#damn the mortal really feeling it huh

[uzurakis]

Can you do like (if you want of course 😎) where like reader pushes them (jjk men) away when they tryin to give you a kiss cause you felt their mustache growin? Pretty pweaseeee😍😍😍

NOT YOUR STUBBLE, AGAIN . . .

featuring: fushiguro megumi. gojo satoru. itadori yuuji. geto suguru. nanami kento.

n. this is such an adorable prompt ughhh i love writing every single one of these, hope u do too!

the moment his skin touched yours, you instinctively pulled away, feeling the scratchy sensation of his growing stubble.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI. “really? you’re rejecting me because of a little stubble?” megumi asked, slightly (and playfully) offended. he raised an eyebrow, sassiness came out from his mouth. “now you’re being dramatic, babe.”

you laughed, rubbing your cheek where his stubble had grazed it. “it’s just . . really scratchy, megumi.”

he sighed, shaking his head with a smile. “then does it really bother you that much?”

“yeah, kinda. but it does look good on you. but, again, no kisses, ‘gumi.”

“fineeee,” he slightly complained. “i can shave it off if you want.”

“you don’t have to do that just for me,” you replied, feeling a little guilty for making a fuss.

your boyfriend chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “if it makes you more comfortable, i don’t mind. i’d rather you enjoy my kisses than avoid them.”

ITADORI YUUJI. “aww, come on! i just wanted a kiss!” itadori whined, his expression turning adorably pitiful. he stuck out his lower lip in an exaggerated pout.

“nu-uh, not until you shave, yuu,” you explained, wiggling your index finger.

he looked genuinely confused and a bit skeptical. “are you seriously serious though? it’s that bad?” he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, clearly doubting your reaction.

“mh-mmm” you hummed, still smiling at his cute pout.

itadori sighed dramatically, his shoulders slumping as if you had denied him his greatest wish. “i guess i’ll just have to shave then,” he said, still pouting but with an amusing glint written over. “just wait here, i’ll be back in a flash!”

well, at least you know itadori yuuji would do anything for your kisses . .

GOJO SATORU. “ughhh, satoru, your damn stubble!”

gojo’s eyes widened as a small chuckle fell from his lips, intentionally. “oh, come on, it’s not that bad,” he said, a grin spreading across his face.

“it is!” you insisted, laughing despite yourself. “it’s like kissing sandpaper.”

his grin turned into a challenging smirk. “oh, really? let’s see if you can resist me now,” he teased, leaning in closer.

you tried to back away, but gojo was relentless. he put on an exaggerated, over-the-top seductive voice, drawing out his words dramatically. “you can’t resist me foreverrr,” he purred, inching closer with each word.

you couldn’t help but laugh at his antics, but still, you tried to push him away gently. “satoru, stop! your stubble, seriously!”

but gojo wasn’t having any of it. he continued to lean in, his lips hovering just above yours. “c’monnn, just oneee kissss,” he pleaded, and once more, you have to succumb into his charms.

GETO SUGURU. suguru’s expression immediately shifted to one of exaggerated drama. he clutched his chest as if mortally wounded. “okay, i see how it is baby,” he declared, standing up and moving to the other side of the room with a dramatic flourish. “my stubble and i will just be over here.”

you couldn’t help but laugh at his theatrics. he stood in the corner, pretending to sulk, but you caught the glint of a smirk as he glanced back at you over his shoulder. “so my stubble has betrayed me . . ” he said, voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

rolling your eyes as you tucked in a smile, you continued. “oh, come on, suguru . .”

he turned back towards you, his fake sulking replaced with a cheeky grin. “guess i’ll have to make up for it later, huh?” he said, winking at you with a smile.

despite your earlier complaint, you felt a flutter of anticipation at his words. you couldn’t deny that deep down, you wanted to kiss him, stubble or not. “we’ll see about that,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

“or you simply have to get used to it, baby.”

NANAMI KENTO. “hmm, i knew i should’ve shaved this morning,” he said, a hint of self-mockery in his voice. he looked at you, testing the waters with a tad wit. “does this mean no more kisses until i shave?”

you laughed softly, still feeling the lingering itch of the hairs. “maybe just a little less enthusiastic with the kisses until then,” you teased, giving him a light push.

nanami’s smile widened, and he made a mental note to remember to shave next time. “noted,” he said with a nod. the man leaned back slightly, still holding your gaze. “but surely, there are other ways i can make it up to you?”

you raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “oh? and what did you have in mind, kento?”

he leaned in closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “well, i could start with a back massage,” he suggested, his fingers already moving to gently knead your shoulders. whatever happened next, perhaps you've already forgotten about nanami’s stubble-trouble.

@uzurakis

[lurochar]

Racy Reverie

In response to this ask

18+ MDNI

-------

“Finally, you don't know how much I need this!”

You smiled at Angel Dust, who collapsed on the opposite side of the couch from you. “I don't mind talking about your job if you need to, Angel.”

“You sure ‘bout that, Toots?” Angel Dust snickered at you, but then sighed almost wearily. “Not sure why you're the only one willing ta listen to me after a hard day, ya know? I mean, everyone in this hotel is a secret freak, right?”

You blinked.

“Little Miss Sunshine and Vagina – you've heard them go at it when they forget to put up their soundproof barrier, huh? Like damn, wonder who's using the strap there?”

That was true, they were quite loud when they failed to remember that important little detail.

“And c’mon, ya think that pussycat wasn't drowning in pussy himself back when he was an Overlord? Or maybe he likes cock better? I can’t tell with that guy. He’s got a good poker face, I can tell you that much.”

Honestly, you had no idea either which gender Husk preferred – he would probably choose a bottle of booze rather than a warm body if you had to guess.

“And Snakes? He has two dicks. Nuff said about that. And he calls me the whorebug?” Angel Dust scoffed. “And Niffty? Uhh, yeah, let’s… let’s just not get into her little mind of horrors.”

Well said.

“And so,” Angel Dust glanced up, a frisky smile suddenly gracing his face, “that just leaves you and Smiles. Spill, Toots. No need to be shy ‘round me. Don’t hold anything back. Everyone here knows you’re both a ‘thing’. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Creepy is into some fucking weird shit, isn’t he?”

You bit the inside of your cheek. “Alastor… isn’t–” You struggled to put it into exact words. “He doesn’t, well…” You scratched the side of your head in frustration.

“Ah, is he pulling the whole ‘proper gentleman’ bullshit? Doing the courting thing?” Angel Dust shrugged. “I remember you mentioning he died in the ‘30s or something? Does he really believe in the ‘no sex before marriage’ crap? Cuz let me tell ya, I died not that long after that, people weren’t as proper as you’d like to think they were back then.”

You glanced away. “Maybe… that’s a part of it.” You knew Alastor had little interest in the more intimate aspects of a relationship and he had admitted to you he had never done anything with anyone in either his mortal life and afterlife.

Of course you desired to touch him and for him to touch you beyond his own little affections – usually him placing his hand on the small of your back and perhaps a kiss on your forehead.

Alastor was not an affectionate man and you knew that going in and you respected that, but he had never outright told you it would never happen and so you could only hope it may happen one day.

“But this is about you! I said I would listen, you had a tough day, right?” You said quickly, earning a sympathetic look from Angel Dust, but he got the message to change the subject back to himself.

“Bleh, yeah, you got that right! Val’s into this thing called ‘bukkake’ right now, ever heard of that?” He earned a shake of your head. “It’s some Asian shit. It’s where multiple guys cum on you. So I’ve got like twenty Hellhounds cumming on my face – and fuck, dunno if you watch porn or not, but the loads some of those dogs are packing! Felt like I was fuckin’ drowning–”

Your face felt hot and Angel Dust’s voice felt distant as you unconsciously squeezed your thighs together. You weren’t a virgin, but you weren’t exactly swimming in experience either as you only had a few sexual encounters in life and none had involved… that.

What would it be like, Alastor cumming on your face?

Would you be on your knees in front of him? On a bed beneath him? Would he stroke himself to completion or would you use your mouth? Would he call you endearing pet names or be degrading towards you?

Oh fuck– 

“Hey, Toots! Still there?” Angel Dust broke you out of your fantasizing and you jumped, blinking and feeling your face burn with sheer embarrassment. “Shit, was that too much?”

“No, no!” You tried to wave it off like you weren’t affected. “I-it’s fine! You can continue!” You swallowed thickly.

“Nah, don’t worry ‘bout it. I think I got what I needed off my chest. Thanks for listening to me, Toots.” Angel Dust stood up from the couch. “Wanna get a drink with me?”

You could definitely use a drink right about now. “Yes. Yes, I would.” You got up, heading over to the bar with Angel Dust.

Neither of you noticed the shadow listening in.

[itsabouttimex2]

I have been going insane about the not beloved au.

The idea and sheer emotions of it just cling to me and haven’t left me for days and I blame you. Just the idea of [User] not only not being the beloved- but in a way being solely viewed that way- and in a sense being completely treated as such where it is very obvious- just- I love it.

The pure angst potential with the au is there and I -‘ screeching about it.

Y/N’s Not The Beloved?

(Monkiefam)

Exactly- Y/N is so heavily defined by being “not the beloved” that it kinda becomes their entire character.

Just like some people get jammed into slots they’re undeserving of by born traits or mere appearances, Y/N is out here getting pigeonholed into the “not our favorite” just because MK is the little monkey demon that their parents dreamed of having for so long.

And it doubly sucks ass, because Sun Wukong and Macaque are such good parents to MK that any criticism on your part will be questioned and “debunked” by well-meaning peers who probably just see you as “spoiled” or “jealous”.

Like, imagine this: your classmate, Y/N, is the adopted child of the fucking legendary hero, Monkey King. He’s married to; of all people, to the infamous Six-Eared Macaque. They have an adorable adopted son who is also a demon monkey.

And if what Y/N has to say about this whole family dynamic is “they spoil my brother too much/love him more than me/expect me to constantly look after him” and like…

From their perspective?

Bitch! You are privileged beyond compare and comprehension! You have two unimaginably powerful parents! They could crumble a civilization and raise a new from the smoldering ashes! They could impose themselves as gods and demand proper tribute! And instead they adopt a silly little mortal out of the goodness of their hearts, and you have the gall to “whine” about it not being enough?

Some of your classmates get beaten for bringing home bad grades? Some of them have dead parents? And a few were disowned for being queer! Others live in filth! Some have literally nothing! Why are you so damn “ungrateful”, Y/N?!

And then desperately trying to explain that yes, you are grateful for them and everything they’ve done, it’s not right for you to miss out on fundamental life experiences just because MK didn’t want you to go, or to nearly flunk a test because you couldn’t sleep on account of MK demanding your attention, or to lose friends that you were never allowed to hang out with because MK didn’t like them.

It’s especially bad in the situation that Y/N is particularly young, around say… under thirteen, or maybe semi-verbal, if they’re shy or anxious, and they haven’t learned how to properly communicate and express themselves in a conducive and effective manner, which leads to exchanges where what Y/N says is utterly ineffective at conveying what they mean, like:

“My parents love MK more than me.” (My parents unhealthily prioritize him even at a cost to myself.)

“Aww, sweetie! He’s just new to your house! You’ll get used to him!”

“I have to babysit MK so much that I don’t get to hang out with my friends.” (My budding social life is beginning to crumble under the weight of being a caretaker to my little brother.)

“You’re such a good older sibling! I bet your parents are really grateful to have a babysitter on hand!”

“MK wanted to go somewhere new yesterday, and he made our dads take me. I didn’t get to sleep.” (MK’s immediate happiness is becoming more important to both of our fathers than my physical health.)

“I bet you all had a lot of fun if you’re this tuckered out, huh? You’re lucky they took you!”

It gets to the point that Y/N, as they grow up, turns to the internet for validation and support in their life, probably to results that are equally split towards positive/negative.

“NTA- Clearly your fathers do not respect your health or feelings! Pack up and move out!”

“I can’t move out though? We live on a sacred mountain and I’ve never had a job because they make me babysit MK instead.”

“ESH cause y’all sound exhausting. I’d beat the fuck out of this “MK” TBH. What a brat.

“He’s nine though??? WTF dude?”

“Honestly all these NTAs and ESHs are so confusing clearly OP is a fucking ungrateful brat who’s gonna regret pushing their family away when they’re alone and have nobody. MASSIVE YTA kiddo.”

“I just want to stay home and sleep because I’m tired as hell from all the other family trips that I went on with my family? This is the first time I’m saying no?”

And slowly growing more and more ostracized and confused by everything in their nonconventional little family and how MK’s obsession with them is both fueled and enabled by Wukong and Macaque’s obsession with him, all slowly heading to a peak-

And when you snap, you are inevitably going to snap hard.

[arminsumi]

WHO IS SHE?

↳ GOJO さとる + fem!reader

A Kyoto student gives the Six Eyes a run for his money during the tournament. Are they really fighting or just flirting?

M.LIST

1.2k

Summary : during the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, a student Gojo encounters someone who can match his strength. It's not humbling. It hurts his pride. But neither of you can deny the tension between you two. You and him are just flirting back and forth like crazy, forming a lustful rivalry.

Warnings : 🔞 minors do not read/interact : mature/18+ content, not proofread, blood, innuendos / suggestive jokes (use of daddy, kitten), sexual/romantic tension, rivalry, making a sexual bet (bj if gojo wins 🫡), cliffhanger ending ig

Note : ayo... AYOOOOOOO!!! i found this idea in the drafts from 3 months ago and wrote smth for it... LET ME KNOW IF U WANT MORE??? bc there's more content for it... hehe 🤭💗 it's got that rivals that wanna fuck type beat ig

🍒 More from Jay : Gojo works / Gojo fave works / JJK works

There's crimson blood dribbling out his nose, and he wipes it away in amazement.

What the hell just hit me?

"Heyyy Six Eyes~!" you smile, split-sitting on a branch.

Gojo Satoru rears his head up at you and squints from the sun. He makes out your figure, hears your voice, and feels this sense of mortality. It gives him a rush.

Fuck. Who is she...? That Kyoto student?

"Oh. Hey Kyoto Princess." He returns condescendingly. He sinks his hands in his pockets to look at ease, though he's anything but in your presence right now. You really shook him up there.

"The blood looks hot on you." you flirt and cause his heartbeat to accelerate.

"Uh-huh... you gonna stay up there like a scaredy cat or you gonna come down here and show me those claws again, kitten?"

He's trying so hard to scramble up those words. He's trying so hard to seem intimidating. To stand his ground against you. He's trying so very, very hard. He's straining himself. Neck tendons pronouncing with his hard swallow. Sweat beading off his forehead.

Damn the summer sun. It makes the tournament so much harder. Though admittedly, he'd be startled by your technique during any season.

You lean down and make a feline movement that makes something click in the horny region of his brain.

"Nah, I like the view from up here... why don't you climb up 'n come give me kitty cuddles?" you say.

Ooh. That voice is chilling. I like it.

"No fucking way." he laughs incredulously. "You can come."

"Oh is daddy giving his kitten permission to cum?" you play.

His eyes go wide. "What the fu—"

There's a rush of wind, your friend interrupts the awkward flirting and comes to your side and asks you what the situation is.

"Why the hold up? You said you'd come 'round again, I was waiting for you. That bangs guy is kind of a menace... 'coulda used your help."

"Sorry..." you smile and maintain this electric eye contact with Gojo. "I got a bit infatuated with Mister Six Eyes over there. He's quite the cutie pie."

Gojo's heart flutters... and he hates it. He feels boyish because of you. Like he's just some dumb teenager with a crush on the hot girl who gave him a nosebleed. Literally, in this case.

"Uh... okay...? Sheesh. Were you trying to fight him or cause deforestation?" your friend grimaces at the splintered and split trees. "Um... anyways... can we go, or are you two still busy flirting?"

"I'm coming, alright." you wink at Gojo.

"What the fu— SUGURU."

Oh, such good timing. Bangs guy appears.

"What's the hold up?" Suguru asks.

Your friend chimes, "That's what I was asking! These two are fucking flirting!"

"Haha, what? Oh Satoru... why is your nose all bloody?" Suguru asks nonchalantly.

"A cat scratched me."

"...? What? What happened?"

"She happened." Gojo glares at you.

You wave at him. He wishes he could bite you, but he's not ready just yet to approach you.

Suguru looks at his friend, then at you, then at the damaged trees, and his features grow both impressed and confused.

"You're telling me... a tiny thing like her did all this?"

Gojo shrugs funnily, "Yeah, she's pretty romantic, isn't she?"

You wink at him. He feels a pang in his chest and furrows his brows.

"Okay. Yeah. Sam, I see what you mean about them flirting."

"Right?"

You giggle. Gojo groans.

There's an auditory announcement echoing through the forest.

Today's event is ending, please return to the starting point.

"Aw, playtime is over. See you next time, Six Eyes."

"Keep callin' me Six eyes, princess, I fucking dare you." Gojo seethes.

All four of you trek back to the starting point. Gojo is stealing hot glances of you, looking grumpy but feeling his pants tighten. You're sweating from the heat. So is he.

I can make you weak for me. Just you wait.

"Satoru, tell me all about it. I want the details." Suguru leans close and asks in a hushed tone. You're busy talking to your friend, outright humiliating poor Mister Six Eyes to her.

"She's too damn fast." he grumbles, rubbing his neck to get the tension out. You really gave his poor body a beating back there. "Like a flicker in my vision... uh, but the main reason she was a challenge was because of all that flirting, of course."

"Oh, yeah right..." Suguru rolls his eyes, then leans even closer, "Was she really flirting with you?"

"Yeah..."

"Lucky."

"What the hell, Suguru." Gojo laughs.

"You should make a move. I'm sure she's got a thing for you. She keeps looking over." Suguru encourages.

"Are you high? She really fucked me up back there. Anyways... I think her flirting was condescending. That's why I flirted condescendingly back. Shit what if she was actually flirtin' with me..."

Satoru and Suguru look at you. And you look back. Your friend is snickering and it bothers Satoru.

But nothing bothers him more than that smug face of yours. He marches right up to you in the corridors later, when it's just you and him.

He pins you right against the wall and you giggle, letting him show off his strength and height.

His breath tickles your face, his eyes threaten to burn your soul.

"Next time, I'll win." he seethes in a deep voice. He notes how you squeeze your thighs together.

"Wanna bet?" you smile seductively.

"Sure. If I win, you have to tell all your cute little friends about how Mister Six Eyes is stronger than you." he says.

"Okay. Whatever. If I win..."

He listens intently.

"... I get to suck your dick."

He blushes. Stutters. Brain freezes. Malfunctions.

Wow. What. Huh?

"Haha, you're cute. Have you never received head before?" you ask forwardly.

His conscious skips beats, words tumble out.

"I — uh... y-yeah of course I have!" he lies.

"Sure you have, big boy." you bring your lips closer and he dissolves. He's so fucked. He's so turned on by you it's actually pissing him off.

He doesn't move away, just lets you graze your lips over his own. You make him shudder. Make his cock start to strain against his tight uniform pants.

"So... are we taking this bet then?"

"Y-yeah... yes. Um. Yes. Absolutely. Please."

"Haha... okay then. See you tomorrow... Satoru~"

Wow. You just broke him there. He doesn't move or speak, just stands motionlessly blinking at the wall as you slip away out of his pinning grip.

He thinks to himself;

Nah. I don't think I care about winning anymore. Screw pride.

But then comes the next morning and... he swells with pride.

Nah. Screw her. I don't need to feel her lips wrapping around my dick.

"Hey, Six Eyes." you greet him at the tournament grounds, flirting so unashamedly that you earn a very disapproving looks from the teachers.

"Hey, Kyoto Princess." he greets back, "flirting" too. His stomach flips when you lick your lips suggestively, as a callback to the bet you made with him.

"Wish ya luck." you tell him.

"I don't need it." he retaliates.

Suguru and your friend just distantly watch, snickering, at the sexual tension between you and Gojo Satoru;

Your natural rival. When he was born, so were you, meant to exist as the only thing that could weaken the Six Eyes.

© arminsumi

Do not plagiarize / repost / translate / copy layouts / etc.

Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

[apricot-blossomss]

Okokokok hear me out right

The reader is friends with hermes (God or moral reader, your choice!) And they asked hermes to deliver a love letter for them! Days, even weeks go by and Hermes still hasn't delivered it. He doesn't want to, he doesn't want the reader to be directing their attention at anything but him. Maybe this love interest will get tired of waiting! Maybe he should just hold onto it forever. Maybe he should just read the letter himself and decide if this person is good enough for the reader?

And then he reads it and its says something like "hermes I knew you couldn't stop yourself from reading this, I love you, you bastard"

Just an idea <3

☛ hermes steals f!bff!mortal!reader's love letter

☛ sfw; cw: a little suggestive; I got covid so I have some time on my hands

When you asked him for a favor, Hermes couldn't have imagined a world in which he wouldn't fulfill it. Up until now. Staring down at the pink envelope in his hands, he felt his chest constrict with a feeling that could be perfectly encapsulated in the word 'shit'.

"Hermes?"

"Huh?" He looked up into your eyes and kept staring as you laughed about his dumbfounded expression. Your lovely laugh didn't make the situation any better for him, though it usually did. Now, it only added to the growing whirlwind in his stomach, clawing at his insides, screaming at him 'too late, you're too late, idiot'.

"Can you deliver this for me?" you repeated the question. "It's for someone very important to me."

Why not him? Why weren't you sending it to him? He was important to you, he had to be more important to you than whatever douche this letter was for. Hermes had to swallow down the urge to rip the stupid thing to shreds. But it looked like you had put a lot of care into the letter. It even smelled of sweet citrus, which really pissed him off, because the smell was so utterly you and he didn't want any other man associated with it.

"Yeah, sure," he said, forcing a smile onto his face. Gods, it hurt. The worst of it was the way your smile brightened, your eyes so kind and happy when you gleamed up at him. This wasn't right, you only smiled at him like that. Right?

Without turning the letter to look at the addressee, Hermes stuffed it into his bag that was already filled to the brim without much care. Maybe the bag could accidentally slip over the ocean and spill all the letters. Or he could throw it into Hestia's fire and pretend it was an accident. Or maybe he could deliver the letter but hide it somewhere the guy would never find it. Then he would have delivered the letter, technically.

Over pondering this conundrum, his attentive eyes missed the nervous twitching of your fingers and your excited little glances, as well as the way you practically shoved him outside the door with some rushed goodbyes to run into your bedroom and scream into your pillow.

Hermes stood in front of the closed door and had been standing there for a good minute, but he couldn't get his quick feet to move. On the other side of that door was you. You, with the gentle eyes, the dazzling smile and the understanding heart. You, who was his solace after a long day, his joy, his best friend. Right. His best friend he should not have these thoughts about.

Oh, but how dearly he wished to break down these doors, walk up to you and kiss you. How he dreamt of coming home to you, not just in his head and heart but also in reality. Like he already did, he would knock in your window and you'd let him in as if he were a stray pigeon, laughing at his jokes and winks and flirtatious comments. But in his fantasy, it didn't stop there. No, you would kiss him and tell him how much you missed him, he'd surprise you with a romantic picknick and spend the night with you and fall asleep in your warm arms.

Blinking, Hermes snapped out of his daydreams and cursed himself. He was a leecher, thinking about his damn pretty best friend like that. Sighing, he pulled his hat deeper into his face, obscuring his eyes, and set off for his job with flying feet. Knowing damn well he would not be able to concentrate on a single thing today.

🪽

Hermes had never messed up so many deliveries as in the last two weeks- and it wasn't even on purpose. Unlike his father suspected, ever since he had accidentally opened Aphrodite's sex toy delivery. The smacking down still made him wince, even a good five days later. And Hermes tried to concentrate , he really did, but it was hard when the damn letter, still safely stored in his bag, lay heavily on his mind. Stupid, flimsy little thing.

Hermes didn't want to deliver it. He didn't want anyone to get it, and though the guilt ate him up from the inside, he couldn't deny it: he wanted you all to himself. Selfishly, greedily, he didn't want you to give your attention to any man but him- at least not in that way. And, hey, maybe if he procrastinated it long enough, the guy would get tired of waiting and you would just forget him. Maybe he should just hold onto the letter forever.

"Hermes?" you poked his cheek and the god snapped out of his whirlwind of thoughts. Sitting on your couch, he realized you had stood up before him. Your concerned eyes hovered over him and he had to gulp down the urge to pull you down into his lap so he could study them more closely. "Are you okay? You kinda spaced out there for a second."

"I'm fine, baby," he smiled, glancing up at you sheepishly. "I'm not myself tonight." Your forgiving smile was too much for him as he let his upper body slump forward. His head, luckily hat-less as always around you, weighed against your upper body and when it vibrated with your little laugh, Hermes savored the comforting feeling. Choosing to tempt fate and test his luck, he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down into his lap, eliciting the most adorable squeak from you. He had to suppress the urge to bite you- you were just too cute.

Your friendship with Hermes had always been very affectionate. Lots of hugging, sitting halfway in each others laps, even sleeping next to each other sometimes, too which you would always wake up to an arm wrapped around your waist and a face in your neck. This open display of affection had you wonder first wether Hermes might see you as more than a friend, when his hand always dipped a little farther down, gripped a little tighter than necessary, when he buried his face in your neck and hugged you as if he never wanted to let go again.

Apart from the fact that having a literal god cling to you like a koala bear was a major ego boost, you really liked Hermes, in more ways than the platonic love you two shared. For weeks you had pondered how to do it and finally worked out a plan: you would give Hermes a love letter with a false address. If he delivered it, no one would read it, but if he liked you back and would try to read it...

"Where are we, like, in the plot?" Hermes muffled into your neck and you felt a light shiver run down your spine- you hoped he didn't notice, but you felt his signature grin form against your skin, and his hands departing from their grip on your hips with fingers like spiders up your sides. Squirming, you swatted them away and the god laughed, still holding you close.

"She slept with both of them and now she hates herself," you answered quickly to shut him up. Managing to get a hold of his hands, you pressed them down onto his lap with little resistance and squeezed them under your thighs to block their means of escape. A choking sound left Hermes' and the god coughed, slipping his hands away and placing you next to him on the couch.

Ouch.

What you didn't know was the war for self-control raging inside your best friend the minute you placed your thighs so deliciously and grabbable over his hands. When his daydreams had, up to now, consisted of confessing your love to each other and innocent kissing, he now felt the overwhelming urge to grab you by the thighs, flip you over on your little couch and have you scream out his name- and his name only. For that one, Hermes gave himself a mental beating and gave you a little smile to conceal his red cheeks- and the fact that you would get wind of his predicament if you only looked down into his lap.

"Sounds great!" Honestly, he didn't even remember your answer to his question, and his overly enthusiastic reaction had you giggling. And that was really all he needed to be happy. Why did he want more? Why was he so insatiable?

The movie was pretty boring, and you seemed to think so too, because your gaze wandered frequently and you caught his incessant staring multiple times. But neither of you turned it off, because really, it was fine. Sitting next to to each other, your head coming to rest on your shoulder at some point, his hand slipping into yours in a completely platonic way.

“Hermes?” you asked when the love interest on screen started to have an intense melodramatic meltdown (Hermes did feel seen).

“Hm?”

"Have you... delivered that letter yet?" You fidgeted with your fingers nervously, but Hermes' stomach dropped down to his feet at least. Shit.

"What letter?" Hermes could have punched himself in the face.

"The love letter I gave to you," you explained carefully. "It's just... I never got an answer so I thought maybe you lost it or..." Your voice droned off and you bit down on your lip nervously. Was Hermes purposefully avoiding the topic? Had he read the letter and now wanted to ignore it out of existence because he didn't feel the same way? You had been so sure there was more to it. At least he wasn't making fun of you, but it was still humiliating, thinking he had read those lines and-

"Ah, that one!" Hermes exclaimed and you flinched at his loud tone. A nervous chuckle left his lips. "Uh yeah, I'm so sorry, baby, I must have forgotten about that one, I forget things sometimes, lots of stuff to deliver and sometimes letters get left behind and..." His rambling droned off and he bit down on his lip like a child caught in a lie, looking up at you.

Your understanding smile nearly killed him. It would have, if it could have. Hermes felt like the biggest asshole when you sighed relieved. "Ah, good, I was a little worried." Fittingly, the lady on screen screamed loudly about how much she hated herself and Hermes pondered over how he could relate to every single one of these over-the-top characters.

🪽

"Good night," you smiled as Hermes exited the door and turned around to you. You were dressed all oversized and cuddly with those warm winter socks and looked just about irresistible. Especially with the way the stars reflected in your wide, slightly tired eyes.

Following a shy impulse, he didn't give you a hug, as usual, but pressed a kiss to your warm cheek. When he pulled away, he did feel satisfaction at the way your face had heated up visibly, even in the dim light. "G'night, baby," he grinned with new fervor and a dreadful feeling in his stomach.

When he turned to leave and pushed himself off the ground to fly up into the air, his decision was made. He would deliver the damn letter. No longer would he be in the way of your happiness. If this guy really was who you wanted...

But, Hermes pondered as the houses of your neighborhood shrunk down to little lights, like the sky but below him, and one of the stars was you. But he should make sure this person was good enough for you. And have an address in case they weren't.

Stopping mid-air, Hermes pulled out the dreaded pink envelope. Not recognizing the address, he decided to look for clues in the letter itself. If you were to ask him, the envelope just kind of ... slipped open and the letter just sort of slipped out of there. When he pulled it out, the familiar smell hit him. After two weeks in his bag, the envelope had lost your smell, but it still stuck to the letter it self. With slightly trembling hands, he unfolded the paper, surprised to find only a few lines written in your handwriting.

Hermes, I knew you wouldn't able to stop yourself from reading this. The address is fake, this letter is for you. I love you, you idiot.

Below that, you had given him three options to pick: () don't ever come near me again, () let's ignore this ever happened because you are the shrek to my donkey, () I love you too. Your messy handwriting on that part had him smile, because he could picture you writing the letter, becoming unsure of yourself and scribbling three options down.

Hermes didn't even bother ticking off option three. He had no time to waste. Within seconds, he was bolting down to earth with the speed of a meteor, the wind howling in his ears, the letter firmly in his hand. You were completely right. He was an idiot. But an idiot who was about to make all your time of waiting up to you.

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[wonderjanga]

C.C. and Diana

Anyways, this is just me wondering if the two ever met. Probably not, but hey, let me imagine. So for this to work, this is gonna have to be WW2 Wonder Woman who stayed for about a year after the war, working as a museum curator. She could’ve met a C.C. who apparently also was a museum curator. (see the photo at the end) Now, this could’ve been before Billy and Mary were born, but I like to think C.C. and Marilyn were childhood sweethearts because I want them to be super in love.

WW: “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Batson.”

C.C.: “Likewise, Ms.Prince.”

*They shake hands and then proceed to talk about whatever museum curators talk about for a couple hours. They then part ways and proceed to never meet again. Until they do. Sort of.*

Marvel: “It’s nice to meet you, Ms.Wonder Woman.”

WW: “Likewise, Captain.” *thinks Marvel is familiar*

*They also shake hands*

WW: “Say, do you have a liking for archeology?”

Marvel: “Ah. Yes, how’d you know?” (Billy got into it as a way to feel closer to his parents)

WW: “No reason.” (She’s not about to out the man’s “identity”)

*she corners him later in the Watchtower*

WW: “You know, I nearly forgot about you. How are you even alive still? I thought mortals aged quickly.”

Marvel: “Sorry, what?”

WW: “I thought mortals could only age to about one hundred before death.”

Marvel: “Uh… Yeah? I guess that’s true.” *nods head confused*

WW: *raises eyebrow* “Were you even a mortal at the time we met?”

Marvel: “No?” *wondering if she’s referring to earlier that day when Billy met her for the first time, or if she’s talking about something else*

WW: “I see.” *wondering if they met by coincidence or not*

Marvel: “Sorry, I’m a little confused. We’ve met before?”

WW: “Yes? In 46. After the Second World War.”

Marvel: “Oh. Huh. I don’t remember that.” (He wasn’t even born) *shakes head*

WW: “Really?” *thinking she confused Marvel with some random mortal* “My apologies then. I must’ve confused you for someone else.”

Marvel: “No, no, no! It’s fine. Promise.” *doesn’t want her to apologize*

Also after seeing C.C. in this panel… wow. The man is an archeologist, yet also built like a damn tank. This is also my first actual time seeing C.C. in a comic book panel so there’s that too. I mean, I knew Billy was supposed to be a copy of his dad, but I mean… my mind wasn’t connecting the fact that he was a copy copy of him.

[as-the-crows-feather-falls]

Jayvik headcanons :)))))

Jayce:

* Oh my god where to even start with this guy

* He’s ridiculously ticklish. Like, everywhere. It’s insane. But I’d say his worst spots are: under his arms, his stomach, and his hips. But again, get him anywhere and you’re golden he’ll laugh either way. If you wanna get him to shriek though he has this one spot on the back of his ribs that will make him go absolutely insane

* Due to his status as “The Man of Progress” or whatever, not to mention this guy has the build of a brick wall, most wouldn’t suspect this, let alone test this

* Two words. Caitlyn. Kiramman. Jayce would tickle the shit out of her when she was younger, but since she has gotten stronger as she grew up, she has become a formidable adversary with a lust for revenge

* These two have tickle fights almost every time they hang out. I feel Jayce would initiate them most of the time, flicking her like in “Happy Progress Day” or teasing her or poking her. He just loves to annoy her and it bites him in the ass every. Damn. Time.

* Now back to the Jayvik stuff I fear I got carried away with Jayce being a goofball lmao

* Oh my god I can hear his laugh. When there’s intentional tickling going down, there is zero buildup. None. Zip. No giggles, no chuckles, no nothing. His laugh immediately goes from laughing to cackling when he’s tickled

* His laugh is so bold and bright and unapologetic, the only time it really goes quieter is if he starts wheezing, which he will if gotten good enough

* I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL: GIGGLE-DRUNK JAYCE. Jayce gets giggle-drunk obscenely easily. He’ll just sit there limp and giggle out any leftover laughter, and he’ll rest a hand over his eyes so only his smile is visible

* He literally loves tickle-fights. Again, he used to initiate them with Caitlyn all the time.

* He is AMAZING at teasing. He doesn’t do baby talk or anything like that, he’s just a yapper. Like he talks almost the entire time he’s tickling

* “Oooohohoho my god, what was that?” “Is something funny?” “Are you gonna take a break now? Huh?” “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you over your giggles, wanna try again?” He’s also not above calling someone “Giggles.”

* His raspberries are fucking brutal. It’s like a mortal combat finisher he’s mastered them

* Depending on who he’s tickling and the overall vibe, he’s not against going “tickletickletickletickletickle” really quick and clawing at sensitive spots. He mostly uses this against Caitlyn lmao

* He’s just such a goofball I love him

Viktor:

* Let’s just say he’s lucky he has that brace on. He doesn’t know this, but that is the only thing between him and certain death if Jayce were to find out his worst spot was under there

* Speaking of which, his worst spots are definitely his ribs, stomach, and knees, with his hips not far behind. Again, thank the lord for that brace or he’d be screwed, his ribs are a death spot for him

* His ears and neck are giggle spots for him. One night Jayce was feeling goofy, bored of twirling the quill in his fingers, and brushed Viktor’s ear with it just to be a shit. Viktor immediately broke into a giggly smile, bringing his shoulder up to protect himself. That’s one of Jayce’s favorite memories with Viktor, even if he did smack Jayce with a notebook afterwards

* His palms, the inside of his forearm, and his spine are an odd level of ticklishness where he’ll be on the cusp of a giggle fit and falling asleep. Like he doesn’t know if he loves it or hates it because it drives him up a damn wall

* He hasn’t been tickled since his early childhood in the fissures. Jayce put an end to that real quick.

* His laugh is kind of the opposite of Jayce’s (I’m gonna take that “two sides of the same cog” imagery to my grave they make me so ill). Viktor’s laugh is kind of wheezy and raspy, and he’ll cover his mouth with his hand. When you get him well enough, his laugh will rise in pitch and he’ll take his hand away from his face to protect himself from his attacker, and that’s when you can see his bright smile. If they had Polaroids, Jayce would want to take a picture of that smile and carry it with him forever. He loves it so much

* HOWEVER If you catch him by surprise, or if you get him just right, his laugh is super bright and kinda loud, but still a little raspy. Just a really pure and happy sound

* His teases are just sarcasm mixed with faux-scientific questions

* “Remind me again, how many ribs are in the human body?” “How on earth do you get anything done when you’re this sensitive?”

* One wouldn’t expect it, but he is JUST as silly as Jayce, it just takes a little more to get him there

* I love the idea that Jayce kinda brings out the kid in Viktor, not just with tickling but overall. I mean, he had to sneak into the academy and prove himself time and time again to get to be Prof Heimerdingers assistant (canon I’m pretty sure) and then Jayce “Crank it!” Talis come along. He kinda teaches Viktor how to be silly again

Both:

* Tickle fights are not uncommon at ungodly hours of the night

* No surprise, Jayce initiates them most of the time. However, their first tickle fight was actually started by Viktor!

* A very sleep deprived Jayce wouldn’t stop annoying Viktor (all in good fun of course) and Viktor finally had enough and jumped him lmao. It didn’t take long for Jayce to find his bearings and retaliate, but Viktor definitely won that one.

* They’re actually both on pretty even ground during tickle-fights. Jayce may be stronger, but he breaks easier and Viktor has more protection

* On a softer note, Jayce loves pressing kisses into the crook of Viktor’s neck when they’re cuddling just to hear him giggle

* On days where he has better mobility, Viktor can and will chase his target Jayce down if he plays his cards right. He knows just how to get Jayce backpedaling, and as soon as he hits a wall or trips up Viktor lunges forward and gets him lmao

* Unless Viktor tells him off, Jayce will always give him a fighting chance. He knows just how strong Viktor is, but he also knows his own strength as well. Viktor’s disability aside, Jayce is built like a brick shithouse and he knows it very well. He never wants to make anyone uncomfortable with something so playful, so he will always hold back on his strength.

* He’s also very intuitive when it comes to social cues in that sense, he’s always looking to see if his target isn’t having fun or if they’re uncomfortable.

* Viktor has this look that always tells Jayce if he’s fucked up. Like that look plus smoothly reaching for his cane, getting out of his chair, and strolling towards Jayce will have him immediately pleading for his life. All Viktor has to do is walk towards him and Jayce is sweating. Thats when Viktor teases the most too, asking him stuff like “What’s the matter,” or “Did I say something funny?” Their teases are similar in that end, they rub off on each other something horrible.

* One time Heimerdinger caught Jayce and Viktor mid tickle-fight while checking up on them and as they were trying to frantically pull themselves together he said “No, no, no. No worries, dear boys. I only came to check on progress, but what is the point of working the mind if there is no play to balance out the soul. Carry on, gentleman!” And left. After a moment, the two of them just kinda looked at each other and, tickles aside, just started laughing. Like they couldn’t even look at each other without immediately cackling. One of those moments when you think you’ve got all the giggles out then you look at them and it’s rib-clutching hysterics all over again. That’s a memory they both have as a favorite of theirs

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Do You Love Me? (Epilogue prt 2)

Previous | Masterpost

After the happy couple ran off with their rogue friends for a celebration more their speed, but that minors were definitely not invited to, there was little point to everyone else hanging around. Danny’s siblings headed out first, both turning invisible and slipping out, flying off to either race or play-fight probably, ghosts seemed to be big on those sort of competitions. The remaining members of the Wayne family stuck around a little bit longer, but they ran out of things to talk about pretty fast. They had been getting better as a family, getting closer and fighting less, but they still didn’t always get along. Besides, Tim could see Kon fidgeting, standing awkwardly off to the side. 

He took pity on Kon and left his family, approaching him and watching him visibly relax the closer Tim came, till Tim was standing next to him and he was smiling softly. “Are you ready to go home?” He asked, tilting his head a little in a way that reminded Tim charmingly of a puppy. 

“No, but I am ready to leave here,” He said, smiling back a little. “Let's go find a nice quiet roof top to sit on a bit before we go back to the chaos.”

“You really are a bat aren’t you,” He teased, but he nodded. “But I understand. For only having three other team mates the tower does get pretty damn loud huh?” 

They walked away from the restaurant before ducking into an unobserved corner so Kon could pick Tim up and take off with him, flying him to one of the higher, less accessible rooftops. The sounds of the city sounded distant up here, still detectable but removed. It was cold, but Kon was warm, so Tim bullied his way under Kon’s arm and got cozy breathing in the familiar polluted air of the city he had grown up in and loved, despite everything. 

“How was the ceremony?” Kon asked, after giving Tim a little time to decompress from all the noise of the dinner so he wouldn’t get overstimulated. 

“It was nice,” Tim said, nodding. “It obviously wasn’t big, or long, but it didn’t need to be. They really love each other, it was great to see them so happy without the chaos of the big weddings they’re going to have coming up.”

“Weddings?” Kon clarified. 

“Yep, one big one in the mortal realm for the whole hero community, and one in the infinite realms to cement Danny’s coronation. They want me to come to both, but I might not go to the ghost one, that sounds like… a lot.”

“Well I’m sure they’re understand if you don’t go,” Kon said, giving Tim’s shoulders a squeeze. 

He nodded, Danny and Jason were honestly the most understanding and supportive people in his life, he was sure they would understand if he had to miss one of their weddings. They sat in silence for a little while until Tim collected his thoughts and managed to speak again. “It did make me think about some things though?” 

“Oh? Like what?” Kon said, sounding a little nervous. 

“Well… Bruce talked a bit about how Jason and Danny are too young to be getting married. But they’re happy aren’t they? They found their person, it doesn’t matter that they’re young when they know that they’re committed to one another. They’ve been through everything together, they’ve been tested, They know they love each other.” He trailed off and Kon gave an encouraging hum. “Kon? Do we love each other?” He asked, frail and fragile. 

“Well… I know I love you. So the ball is in your court Tim, do you love me?” Kon asked, soft and vulnerable. 

“What do you love about me?” Tim asked, looking up at him uncertainly. 

“I love how smart you are, how passionate you are. You think you’re not good with people but you’re kind, and empathetic and people can see it even if you’re a little awkward. People feel safe with you, I feel safe with you. You’ve accepted me from the very beginning, stood up for me and taught me so much. I-... Honestly, I could go on and on about why I love you. There are a lot of reasons,” He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

Tim nodded slowly and looked down at the city. “You’re strong, not just physically. There’s… a strength to your hope, no matter how many times you’re pushed down you get up because you always believe things can get better. You’re so attentive, and so generous with me and with everyone around you. And to be honest, you’re really hot,” He said, smiling crookedly when Kon choked on air a little. “I love you too. Even if you're a bit of a buffoon.” 

A beat of silence as they processed what Tim had just said, then Kon tilted Tim’s head up with two fingers to look him in the eye. Tim wasn’t great at eye-contact, but he took a deep breath and made the effort to look back. 

“Tim, are you sure?” Kon asked worriedly. 

Tim bit back the urge to back away from this vulnerability and throw up shields again. He held his breath, and nodded, trying to ignore the way his eyes were watering even though he wasn’t sad. He was just… emotional, which usually made him cry when he let himself open up fully, even if they weren’t bad emotions. 

“I love you,” Kon said again, testing the water. 

“I love you too,” Tim said, breathless and unsure, but it felt right. It also felt right when Kon leaned down and kissed him. His lips were slightly chapped, but warm and oh so familiar from all the hours Tim had spent accidentally staring at them in team meetings and private conversations. He slid his arms around Kon’s neck and kissed back.

He chuckled softly but didn’t pull away when Kon started to float unconsciously, just crawling into Kon’s lap so he wouldn’t be left behind on the rooftop. They broke apart, and kissed again, and again, and again. Soft, sweet, chaste little things that still overwhelmed Tim’s stupid emotionally repressed psyche. 

He sniffled and pulled away, hiding his face against Kon’s chest, who made a soft sound of worry and hugged Tim securely against his broad chest. 

“Are you okay?” Kon asked. “I didn’t-”

“No you didn’t do anything wrong, not at all. I’m just happy, and I don’t know what to do with… this much happy,” He said, laughing wetly at how stupid that sounded. 

“Oh,” Kon laughed, giving Tim a careful squeeze. “I’m happy to.”

“Thank you for being so patient with me Kon. I’m sorry it took me so long to admit this.” Tim had loved Kon for a long time really, it was just hard.

“Always,” Kon promised, leaning his cheek against Tim’s hair, happy to just hold him, just to be close as they drifted over Gotham city, lost in their own little world together. 

[miffysrambles]

Hi! I have a request, but feel free not to write it!^^

I also dont know if you have already wrote something like this so sorry if you have! But could you possibly, mayhaps, do a Macaque and Wukong (Separate) x reader where it's THAT time of the month for the reader and she's just in a lot of pain?

Wukong and Macaque with an S/O on Their Period

Wukong:

Since he is a monkey, he kinda freaked out the first time when he smelled blood on you when he walked through the door.

“Did anybody hurt ya peaches? Just give me the word and I’ll take care of it…” He held you by the shoulders as he furrowed his brow, the thought of you hurt made the anger rise in his chest. 

Of course, you explained to him what was going on as you lay in a fetal position, clutching your stomach on the couch. 

Wukong doesn’t really understand it at first, to be honest.

If it’s unpleasant, just stop having one?

Wukong…

After you explain to him you can’t control it and that’s not how it works, he’s more informed about the pain it leaves you in. 

However, it takes some time for him to fully wrap his head around the concept. 

After all, he wasn’t around mortals for many MANY years.

But don’t worry, that doesn’t mean he thinks you’re overdramatic! He can tell by the smell and the way you act you are genuinely in pain. 

Between the way your moods are different and the groaning as you two cuddle, he wished he could take the pain away from you.

You had to deal with this every month?

Damn, he admires you so much to be honest.

As mentioned before, you two cuddle twice as much when you’re on your period and that’s saying a lot considering you two cuddle quite often. 

Will rub your back and/or stomach (if you allow him to) as he kisses your forehead.

Of course, he has all your favorite snacks and drinks ready next to you guys so you can just take it easy!

"You just lay here in my arms peaches, forget about everything while ya rest."

Will even share his peach chips like the generous and oh-so-handsome boyfriend he is.

Praise him please.

Macaque:

Like Wukong, he was caught off guard when he smelled blood on you after you messaged him to come over. 

He was already planning murder in his head before you could even question why he was looking at you so intently.

“Where are they sugarplum… Who hurt you?...”

…Huh?

“You’re bleeding… Who hurt you?” His nose scrunched, twitching with fury.

Ohhhh!

After you explained to him what was actually going on, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.

Unlike Wukong however, he was familiar with periods as he lived in the city and was around humans more often. 

Be prepared to get treated like a princess during your period.

You want food? Sit right there while he goes and gets you takeout along with your favorite snacks.

Need something hot to press against your aching abdomen? He’s already heating a water bottle on the stove for you with some painkillers which he totally paid for. 

Don’t you dare worry about anything right now, you just relax and let him take care of everything.

Don’t worry about mood outbursts as well, he knows your hormones are out of wack during that time.

Your favorite part of your period is when he lays your head in his lap and plays with your hair as you both lay in bed while the TV plays in the background.

Of course, he does it for you all the time, but his fingers running through your hair are just extra soothing and distracts from the pain in your uterus. 

Smiles down at you as he mumbles praises to you, 

“Look at how pretty you are right now. How did I get so lucky, huh?”

“You did get lucky, don’t forget it.”

He laughs at your playful response, nodding as he chuckled some more.

“You got it sweet cheeks.”

[gamblersdoll]

Can you do a mean sukuna that gets mad at y/n because she starts flirting with a random guy ??

it was all because of him, really.

had he actually been decent, gave you small amounts of attention, wasnt always eyeing other women when it came to doing small tasks for the house. it was finally his fault, him having to watch you jokingly flirt with another man— a random guy who just happened to be there.

yet, sukuna— a demon, throws his tantrum and plays the silent treatment. he fucking hated you right now, because how dare you flirt with a man who isnt him?

hes literally a demon, and that guy is a fucking mortal who couldnt possibly have you head over heels. he cant stand to look at you, because the fuck did you mean ‘his large ass print was showing?’

sukuna had a bigger dick, be so for real.

“so you finally understand what i have to deal with or are you still going to flirt with other women?” you scoff, arms folded and tapping your foot. “shit is ridiculous.”

“its different, you damned woman.” he growled, looking to you. “youre fucking going around to random men and then telling them that they have a big cock.” oh, that mustve struck a nerve since you hadnt seen how massive he was. hes got you cornered, hovering and glooming over you. it wasnt your fault, had the damn demon knew how to act and got some sense, he wouldnt have to reap what he sewed.

“and you dont find random women and say they have good hips for breeding? and multiple women? when i only spoke to one man?”

“it’s different, thats just a normal compliment.” he starts to snarl, fangs on display and his face scrunched up. hes got you by your collar, eyes bearing into yours.

“yeah, maybe back in the golden days, but we in the mustard yellow and that ‘compliment’ has expired.” you snarl back, spitting in his face.

he would put you in his place but… you spat in his face? it takes him a second to process that, has a woman ever spat in his face before? what exactly do you do? he blinks at you twice.. and he can tell you have half the mind but you stand firm..

not until he has your face and stomach planted into the mattress, body bouncing up when he fucks into you from behind and has his hands digging and holding him up by your back. he hated having to remind you he was a supernatural being, a creature from many centuries ago who still is from b.c.

“cant spit on me now, can you, brat?” he asks, his hand holding your head into the bed and he spit on you. “some shit when you got me pissed and … fuck.” he groans, feeling your walls clench down on him. “fuckin’ did this probably because you wanted attention, huh?” he asks, a harsh slap to your ass. “answer when im addressing you.”

you try to nod, eyes peaking from the bed to watch the both of you in the mirror.. but he makes eye contact when you see it. “oh, you wanna watch? thats fine.”

he scoops you up, pressing your back to his chest—and your knees to your chest. you can see it, how he splits you open on his cock and how deep it sinks in. “watch me as i claim you, shouldve been did this!” he growls guttural, your body moving up and down on his shaft.

he was using you, something you needed so bad from your supernatural demonic boyfriend.

[transmascaraa]

NYX💃🏻 bet you didn't expect me here did you? (You probably did)

Anyways remember that one time you wrote this><

Could you maybe do that with Xiao?? Anyways gotta go back at texting you at discord lmao

Love you<33

bf!xiao headcannons!

you're not used to such kind words of affection...

bf!xiao x adeptus!gn!reader

author's note: OFC OFC I LOVE YOU TOO💗💗 i hope you guys enjoy this one as well as you enjoyed the one with gaming lol^^ (in the end it came out as smthn like js comfort but it includes praise soooo)

"is this what mortals call— praise?.."

-okay so where do i startttt

-at first, when he met you, he didn't understand AT ALL what showing affection meant

-so whenever you showed him affection(which you never received yourself) he felt warm but weird

-since he never kinda received it himself

-i mean after losing so many friends what do you expect lmao

-and he never really understood "love" as a whole

-the only reason you got with him was because YOU confessed, and he said he felt the same way, unknowing that it was literally love itself

-so after quite some time of him asking zhongli what it is and for his help, he understood it pretty much finally

-and seeing you a bit down one day was his chance to do his best to help you.

-you sat on a high cliff, your knees pressed to your chest, in which you buried your head.

-feeling somebody's presence, you lift your head only to see xiao sitting next to you, putting a hand on your back, gently rubbing it.

-but he didn't look at you, not yet, he just kept looking straight into the horizon.

-"i see you don't feel as... good.. as you usually do." to which you just hummed.

-"and... i understand that it can be tough sometimes.." he continued.

-"but i still think that doesn't make you any less of what you already are. the brave and... kind adeptus you are." now you were a bit surprised, to say the least.

-"you're.. beautiful/handsome/fabolous just the way you are and..." he paused to turn his gaze towards you.

-"you're really sweet to me." that's when he noticed your surprised blushing face that replaced the one of despair just a while ago.

-"n-no, xiao... but i'm not-"

-"you are. you're... how do they say it again... perfect..?"

-"i'm not, i swear-"

-"i swear on the powerful and almighty rex lapis. you... shouldn't change for anyone but for yourself. your role as an adeptus like me... i understand your struggles, but you'll get through it, just like i did. you're too strong to look at yourself so lowly."

-"xiao, no-"

-"i promise."

-you were a bit stunned by those simple 2 words.

-"huh?"

-"i said, i promise, if that's how it's said."

-you just hugged him tight, burring your head in the crook of his soft neck, letting him gently hug you in return.

-and even tho you didn't accept his praise and words of affirmation at first, they slowly grew on you after some time.

-you gradually got used to them, just as xiao got used to saying the phrases using them with you.

-and he always kept his promises.

~~~~~

i haven't written for one character individually in quite a while but damn this is long

in fact i think this is my longest one-character writing😰

it's not a bad thing smh if only every other was as long as this one lmfao

| @mariaace <3

[vampiric-tempt]

if you don’t mind, could you write kung lao, Raiden, smoke, scorpion, sub zero, Johnny cage, and kenshi being waken up with head by the reader?

↳˳❝ mk1 men waking up to receiving headੈ♡˳🎀

✦ headcanons w/ kung lao, raiden, tomas vrbada, kuai liang, bi-han, johnny cage, & kenshi takahashi

Kung Lao ➤ As heavy of a sleeper that Kung Lao was, his body was very reactive to your ministrations. He shifted and jerked from the way your mouth sucked his dick, your hand cupping his balls to heighten the sensation. His eyes eventually flickered open and his hand immediately shot down to grip your hair for leverage, groans leaving his lips. "Fuck, what did I do to wake up to this babe." He tosses his head back. "S-so good!"

You couldn't help but hum, causing vibrations on his member and driving him to lose himself within the pleasure. Cum soon coated the insides of your mouth when he reached his climax, brows furrowed as he emptied himself. He panted as you crawled up and gave him a cheeky smile. He gives you a lazy smirk. "Does this mean I can wake you up like that too?"

You chuckle. "I don't see why not, but I doubt you'll wake me up as good as I did you."

Kung Lao raises a single brow. "Is that a bet?"

Raiden ➤ He was already squirming in his sleep, brows furrowed and small gasps leaving his lips. You watched as Raiden tiredly opened his eyes and gripped the sheets when you bobbed your head just right. "Y-y/n?" He moans and tries his best to push himself up with his elbows, tired eyes watching you pleasure him, but one of your hands reaches up to push his chest down and he let's you. Too tired and drunk with pleasure to really do anything. "I-it feels so good," He whines. "Y/n, god, you're too good for me."

You pulled away just before he could cum and wiped your lips. "I thought I'd reward you for winning mortal kombat. So stay down and let me please you, my love."

He nods eagerly. "Please continue, I wanna cum so bad."

A glint of mischief reaches your eyes as you slowly trail down to his leaking member. "Then be a good boy and I'll give you what you want."

Tomas Vrbada ➤ Baby boy is whimpering in his sleep. As soon as he opened his eyes at the sight of his dick in your mouth, Tomas let's out a little whine and tiredly thrusts his hips to meet your pace. Your eyes gleamed with pride seeing the effect you had on the man. He couldn't even muster a word as he desperately raced to his climax, head leaning back and groans escaping him. His hand laid atop of your head, just resting there as you continued to swirl your tongue and torture the poor boy. His hand then slightly eased your head down as his hips stilled, cum shooting down your throat and a loud moan falling past his lips.

"S-swallow all of it please." He whines. You do just as he says and when he finally collapses back into the bed, you lean over him, a smile on your face.

"Good morning Tomas." You coo.

He huffs a little and pulls you down onto his chest. "I admit, I'd like to wake up like that more often. I-is it okay if I do the same to you?"

You let out a small laugh. "Of course Tomas, it goes both ways."

Kuai Liang ➤ Just as your lips encircled the head of his dick, his brows furrowed and thighs tensed. You began to suck and bob your head to the best of your abilities around his cock and later felt the palm of Kuai's hand on your head. You peered up to be met with your husband's tired eyes peering back down. Of course it wouldn't take long for someone like him to wake up.

"Couldn't wait to wake me up huh?" He teases, but gets cut into a groan as you stroked his lower half with your hand. He lets you suck him off, hand guiding your head up and down and hips thrusting up into your mouth. He was light-headed and still sluggish, but he was enjoying every damn second of it as quiet groans left his mouth. "Almost there, keep going my love. You're pleasing me so well." He grunts, hips jerking to hit the back of your throat causing a muffled choke out of you. You quickened your pace and let out a satisfied moan as Kuai's cum filled your mouth. You gasped from how much he came, only being able to swallow some of it as the rest leaked down the sides of your mouth. Kuai chuckles and leans up to wipe some away with his fingers.

"What was the special occasion?" He asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Nothing, I just wanted to surprise you."

Kuai hums. "I liked the surprise, thank you."

Bi-han ➤ Quiet grunts left Bi-han's mouth, brows scrunched as his sleeping figure felt the suction of your mouth. You admired the way his body reacted beneath you, his groans becoming music to your ears. Tt didn't take long before Bi-han's eyes slowly opened and quickly took in the sight of your reddened lips around his glistening cock.

He growls and puts a hand over your head with enough pressure to control your pace. "Naughty little one, sucking off your grandmaster while he's sleeping." You choke a little as he positions himself up, now on his knees as he peered down at you with his hair draping down his shoulders. "Naughty consorts should be punished, don't you agree?"

You try and answer but moan feeling him push his hips into your mouth, completely gagging you. He groans beginning to fuck your throat, his cock abusing the back of your mouth over and over. You were already a drooling mess as tears pricked the corner of your eyes. "It's time I reteach you the differences between you and your grandmaster."

To say the least, you were not upset with the outcome of your surprise and neither was the Lin Kuei's grandmaster.

Johnny Cage ➤ He was a moaning mess, dick twitching in your mouth, and hand unconsciously over your head. To him, he probably believed he was having a really realistic wet dream until your actions shook him awake, sloppy wet noises filling the dimly lit room. Johnny's eyes blinked open and he immediately smirked looking down at you.

"Damn, now this is something worth waking up to." He bites his lips, feeling his hips jerk to meet your pace. "K-keep going babe, almost there." He groans. His hips quickening to reach his climax, small curses leaving his mouth as you hollowed your cheeks just right which caused Johnny to choke out a whimper. Finally, a loud moan escapes his mouth, thighs shaking as cum spurted into your mouth. You quickly lapped up the juices and gave Johnny a wink.

Johnny returns a tired smile and quickly switches your positions, your body now beneath him. "My turn babe, don't be complaining when I can't have enough of you."

"Oh, I think I'll be too busy moaning your name Johnny."

"That's what I like to hear."

Kenshi Takahashi ➤ The man woke up rather quickly, his sense of touch more sensitive than others. He was squirming under your touch, small grunts coming out of him.

You smile, lifting your lips to kiss the tip of his dick. "Good morning Kenshi." You say, before enveloping his cock into your mouth once again.

He hisses, tatted hands now entangled in your hair. "Ngn- i-it's a very good morning indeed." He jerks his hips lightly. Kenshi was having a hard time not cumming, the feeling of your tongue swirling his length as you bobbed your head in a torturous pace. He felt everything with such higher intensity and it was so intoxicating for the man. He let's out a loud grunt, tossing his head back when he finally reached his breaking point. Cum filling your mouth as you happily swallowed it with a satisfied hum. You crawled up to him and began biting and nibbling his neck, more moans leaving the samurai's mouth.

"God, you drive me so crazy." He says, tilting his head back for you. "Is there any specific reason for all this, hun?"

You smirk. "Just a little surprise s'all."

╰┈➤ masterlist

[sorrowfulrosebud]

The Lone Wolf (again…)

Wolf! Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Contents: in which Wolf! Katsuki royally fucks up

Genre: extreme angst

CW: this is a very dark fanfic so I can’t really put the tws without spoiling the story. I’ll try my best anyway. TWS for blood, neglect, death and etc.

This is for @vampyrsm s collaboration! I’m sorry it took so long but it’s finally here! It can also be considered an alternative AU for my papa wolf series and can be read as a stand-alone piece.

“I’m leaving you”.

These were the words that made you stop scrubbing the dishes in the basin as the muscular frame of your mate stood unbreakably behind you. Your brows furrowed at the proclamation, wondering where the hell it had come from.

You had had a slight idea that he was unhappy, being more growly and quick to trigger than usual, but you had just assumed that he was nearing his rut again. Determined to see what he had to say, you stood your ground and remained facing the stone basin. The slight trembling in your hand informed Bakugou that you had indeed heard what he had sprung on you and took your silence as a means of continuing his speech.

“I’m getting soft and weak, for god’s sake. I’m a wolf, not some sort of damn domesticated house pet that you can play with whenever you feel like it. I can feel it that staying here is making me lose my edge, and what kind of wolf would stay with some sort of weak little human like you, huh? The very idea would have you slaughtered in my pack for acting like a domesticated pet,” Bakugou spat. The way he borderline snarled the word made it seem like it was some sort of dirty slur.

But I suppose, when you are forcefully ripped from one lifestyle and thrown into another, you’re bound to feel shaken up. That’s the strange thing though. The last year and a half of your life after meeting him was the best time of your life, and judging from the endless belly rubs, walks in the woods and helping him through his ruts, you were certain he had the same feelings for you as you did him.

==================================

The way you had met was less than conventional; when checking your rabbit traps and snares in the forest, you had found Bakugou muzzled, naked and chained by a collar to one of the thickest trees with a huge gaping wound slicing his Achille’s tendon to prevent him from running away. (Not that he could have to begin with. You figured that it was to add insult to quite literal injuries).

As a twig snapped under your hunting boots, the thrashing of the chain ceased as carmine eyes pored into yours. You were mesmerised by how a well-sculpted man could seem so animalistic until you were able properly see the well hidden ash blonde ears tucked in with the rest of his hair and with a quick swish, you were also notified of a fluffy tail being raised on alert. A sharp snarl pierced the air as Bakugou tried lunging at you, secretly dying internally from the horrible humiliation of someone from the species he’s mortal enemies with seeing him in such a disgusting manner.

In Bakugou’s pack (as he explained to you), being even remotely associated with humans would mean that you were the lowest of the low; a domesticated dog who would do cheap tricks for their master. Bakugou had been found sneaking off to the local human village to observe how humans function as a society, to study what they eat, how they take care of their young and how they farm crops. The leaders of the pack (his parents) decided that the punishment should fit the crime:

First, the traitor would be stripped naked as a symbol of stripping their morals for the enemy

Next, the heels would be sliced open to prevent any further disloyalty to the traitor’s new master by running away after the disloyalty for the pack was displayed

Then the traitor would be muzzled since it is a reflection of the biggest rule in the pack: NEVER SPEAK TO A HUMAN

The most humiliating thing was next. The traitor would be collared and leashed to a tree in hunter territory since acting like a pet means that you get treated like a pet, much like a dog being chained to a kennel. If the traitor loves humans so much, they can see how much they enjoy being skinned for their fur and having their teeth torn out for jewellery.

Eager to help the handsome stranger that you found, you raised your arms in peace and ambled slowly in front of him. You were EXTREMELY aware of his claws so you sat a good three feet away. Bakugou couldn’t deny that he was intrigued by your actions; he was still highly on guard but most hunters would have raced away for a spear or bow and arrow to put him out of his misery. With a small smile, you had introduced yourself to him to try to establish some sort of relationship, only to be met with an annoyed growl and chuff of his breath. In an instant you totally remembered that he was naked and rootled through your bag for a spare pair of hunting trousers that you carried. Your soft hands held them out to Bakugou to see if he wanted them instead of sitting there with his whole body on show.

Bakugou made no move to grab them from you, thinking that you had doused them in chloroform or some other drug that would seduce him to sleep. Instead, he just glared at you with intense eyes. The yanking on the chain had stopped completely as he studied you ferociously.

“Go on, you can take them! I can’t guarantee that they’ll fit you but I’m sure it’s better than sitting out here naked and covered in your own blood,” you offered with a gentle smile. Katsuki glowered at you as you set them down for him and turned your back so he could change himself.

Internally, Katsuki was in two minds; accept the clothes and kill you at any point in time if you threatened him, or sit here bound and helpless for god knows how long…

Katsuki growled as the fabric temporarily dug into his bleeding heels. He eventually managed to shimmy them up his legs, toned calves strained against the fabric due to their size.

“Are you done? Can I turn around right now?” You asked him politely. Katsuki let out an annoyed growl at your question, but you took it as a yes. You turned back around, borderline chuckling at the size of your trousers on Katsuki’s lower half before immediately being shut up with an angered glare.

“Okay, I’m sorry. Now you’re going to have to stay still whilst I-” you fumbled in your pocket for a knife, the silver blade glinting in the sun.

You only just managed to avoid the swiping of claws against your skin as Katsuki lunged for you, hackles raised and sandy ears pulled taunt against his head. Your fingertips pressed against the wound and you audibly winced at the amount of blood; even though he nicked you, there was still 4 big slits in the side of your tunic.

“Fuck, shit that hurts! What the actual fucking hell, asshole?!” You yelled at him, “I was going to unlock the muzzle around your mouth!”

Katsuki still growls, but his ears go back to normal. His entire body feels so… sluggish.

“Woah, hey are you okay?” Your face donned a worried look as the adrenaline of his night finally floated away from him and he slumped unceremoniously at your legs.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The pops and crackling of the toasty fire surrounded Katsuki’s senses as he finally started the descent out of sleep. He had no fucking clue where he was; there were certainly no soft couches back in his cave, nor were there little carved woodworks of various woodland creatures.

A soft humming could be heard from what Katsuki would assume to have been the kitchen. You entered Katsuki’s eyesight with a carefully balanced tray of stew (lamb by the small of it), and placed it carefully on the oak coffee table next to your plush couch. Katsuki shot up from the couch, snarl in his throat, ears all the way back and hackles raised as you raised your hands once again.

“Hey, relax, please! I’m not going to do anything, I swear! I just wanted to make sure you’re alright. You passed out on me in the woods, so I took you back to my house to clean your wounds and feed you,” you lowered your hands to your waist and looked at Katsuki for his reaction. His ears slowly went back to their original position, the glint from his fangs could still be seen. His breathing was harsh, toned pecs heaving in his fear rage.

He slowly reached for the bowl of stew before sniffing it.

Well, it doesn’t smell poisoned. He thought. Might as well eat some, I’m fucking starving.

He tucked in with hesitation, but as soon as the first bite of juicy lamb hit his tongue, the bowl was next to empty. You stood dazed at how fast he consumed the bowl before offering your hand out to him. Katsuki immediately shrank back on the couch.

“Woah, I just wanted to know if you wanted seconds? You’re obviously hungry and there’s plenty more in the pot if you want some,” you spoke gently to him, almost like he was a pup, or a wild animal. Katsuki clearly thought for a second before shoving the bowl in your chest with an annoyed huff. You smiled at him widely before trotting back into the kitchen.

It suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t have any extra heaviness from that damned collar on his neck, and upon further inspection, you actually had stitched up the gaping wounds on his ankles. He still wore the trousers you had gifted him, so he was at least quietly grateful that you granted him privacy.

Well. This is going to be one hell of a summer.

=================================

“Katsuki, what the hell do you mean? You’re leaving?? When did you decide this?!” You turned around to face him properly and were instantly met with an annoyed expression.

“It doesn’t matter when I decided it, I’m fucking leaving and there’s nothing you can do about it!” He snarled at you. Deep inside, he loved you more than anything he could ever think of. He wanted to be your mate for his entire life, to wake up with you every morning and maybe if you would let him, indulge in his fantasy of having a few pups of your own. Alas, he had heard rumours around the village about a group of werewolves terrorising the local village’s cattle and he desperately wanted to see his old pack again.

“But Katsuki, please think about it! Where would you go?! You know that if your old pack were to see you again, they are more likely inclined to kill you!” You shouted at him, face crumpled up in tears.

“No they fucking wouldn’t, my pack respected and adored me! I just put my own personal interests before the safety of my pack, and that got me landed here in this shitty fucking cabin with you. A filthy human who would probably sell me to a hunter the minute I started acting like a true wolf,” he snapped back, his eyes dilating to pin pricks in his anger. Your own eyes glared back at him with tears delicately lacing your lash line.

“They. Fucking. Left. You. For. Dead. You went against your pack, and your PARENTS of all fucking people decided that they would slice their own fucking SON and LEAVE HIM FOR DEAD! I have done nothing but take care of you, through each of your ruts, each full moon, I EVEN FUCKING NURSED YOU BACK TO HEALTH.

DAY AND FUCKING NIGHT, I WAS AT YOUR SIDE HELPING YOU TO WALK AGAIN! EVERY INJURY YOU EVER HAD, I WAS THERE TO CLEAN UP AND KISS. SO DON’T YOU EVER FUCKING DARE SAY THAT I’M JUST SOME STUPID FUCKING HUMAN WHEN I WAS MORE OF A PACK TO YOU THAN YOUR OWN FAMILY!” The words were spewing like venom at this point, you couldn’t fucking breath and the tears were pouring down your face thick and fast. In an instant, Katsuki had a death grip on your wrist, carmine eyes reduced to slits and his ears were flat against his head.

“Don’t. You. Ever. Disrespect my fucking pack again. Y’know, my pack was right. Humans do nothing but brainwash you into domestic shit. This was a mistake from the start,” he spat maliciously. His claws were digging deep into your wrist, making your face screw up in pain.

“K-Katsuki, let go! You’re hurting me!” You sobbed as you tried to pry him off. It wasn’t until the smell of blood hit his nose that Katsuki realised that he had actually hurt you. With a cry of pain, you clutched your bleeding wrist to your chest. The red stained your shirt a violent colour.

Katsuki could feel his rage ebb away and was slowly being replaced by worry.

“Woah, hey are you ok-“ he tries before you flinch away from him, hitting your back against the sink behind you in an attempt to get away. Your whimpers physically hurt him in ways he never knew existed.

“Hey, don’t push me away! I’m trying to see-“ he tries again before you finally turn to him and his heart breaks further at your teary face.

This was such a stupid fucking thought, he was so fucking stupid, why the hell would he leave you for his old pack?! Katsuki finally reflected on your words before his blood felt like ice. Why would he say such awful things to you to try to prove to an old pack who left him for dead?!

“Baby, please, I want to help,” he borderline whimpers, ears twitching dolefully. Your face screwed up in anger before you stood at your full height.

“You want to leave you fucking bastard, then leave. I’m not going to fucking stop you. I hope your pack was fucking worth the one person who stuck with you these last few years. Now, get the fuck out of my house.” You snarled lowly, eyebrows furrowed in pain. Katsuki reached out for you with a trembling hand before you started borderline shrieking.

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE BEFORE I CALL THE DAMNED HUNTERS TO SKIN YOU ALIVE!”

Katsuki had never felt so low in his entire life. You started swaying in your rage, trying to shoo him away. He let out a whimper as he looked at you one last time before fleeing out of the house, your screams of pain and fear ringing in his head.

==================================

1 year later…

Katsuki was miserable. Utterly, and purely miserable. He had found his old pack, and for a moment that had hope flutter through his stomach. Until of course, as you predicted, they tried to kill him for his betrayal (and the fact that he still stank of human).

Slurs of “pet” could be heard through the snarls as Katsuki had narrowly avoided claws and fangs, before tumbling down a hill and running for his life. It was against his morals to do so but he couldn’t face losing another family.

For the past year, Katsuki had tried making his own way of life; finding a small cave further into the mountain range near your cabin and stealing from the local village for meats and blankets. He made his own new home, but it didn’t feel the same without you whatsoever.

He missed you. He missed your sleepy smiles, he missed your stupid little jokes, he missed kissing you awake on Sunday mornings, he missed… you. Every night, his hands loosen the thick red collar you had given him as a joke and thumbed it carefully. Trembling hands caress the leather as small tear stains plop onto it and whimpers reverberate around his cave. It may have started as a joke, but he never took it off even after you threw him out, only to lament painfully on his regret. Most nights he substituted your soft body for his tail, clinging on to it until it hurt.

He hadn’t seen you for a year. 365 days without your cuddles, belly rubs, gentle kisses and warm smiles. Katsuki could feel himself going mad, so he made a decision.

He was going to apologise.

==================================

Katsuki checked his appearance in a puddle that had accumulated in his cave; his hair was somewhat kept better, his ears and tail were freshly groomed and he held a large bouquet of wild flowers he found in a field.

Katsuki let out a shaky breath before hardening his face.

“I just have to show her how much she really means to me. I can’t- I can’t be without her.”

And so he began the trek to your cabin.

==================================

He began to walk at dusk; it gave him a cloak of protection from hunters, plus you would be really surprised. It only took him about half an hour to find your cabin tucked snugly in the back of the woods. But the sight before him made his blood feel like ice.

The door was absolutely shredded. Large claw marks had sliced the door to oblivion, as well as the surrounding walls. Even though it was almost as thick as the trees that the wood came from, it was nearly folded in half and torn off its hinges.

Bile raised in his throat. As did his hackles.

“(Y/N?)” he tried anxiously.

No answer. However, he detected a new smell.

Blood.

He crept behind the door, immediately on high alert. Whatever did this was not fucking human.

His heart lurched dramatically at the state of your home; all of your belongings were either torn to shreds or thrown across your floors. Carpets were torn up, pillows shredded, curtains torn from their windows.

“(Y/N)! I’m not fucking joking, if you’re there then say something!” He yelled through the house. Fluffy ears twitched intensely, desperate to hear some call of validation. He was frightened absolutely shitless. The only other time he had felt so afraid was the day he lost you.

Creak…

Katsuki pinpointed the noise to upstairs. All survival instincts flew out of the window as he bolted up the stairs, only thing on his mind was to ensure your safety. He nearly fell down a few steps before reaching what was your shared bedroom.

The bile actually came out.

Your bedroom door was identical to the one downstairs; torn to shreds and laid in pieces on the ground. The soft blankets that laid on your bed had gigantic claw marks slicing through them, all the way down to your thick mattress.

Again, your curtains were brutally ripped off the window. The window itself had been smashed, shiny fragments glittering across the entirety of the room. Katsuki stepped lightly on the floor, the smell of blood poisoning his sensitive nostrils.

It was the strongest in your bedroom and-

“Oh my fucking god, no.”

Strewn like a rag doll, mangled on the floor in an inhumane position was

you.

The exact same slices on your door were buried deep into your stomach and neck. Thick, red torrents of blood seeped from your body and deep into the wooden floor. Your eyes had completely glazed over, staring back at him with gray.

Tears had crept down your face in your last few moments; Katsuki could smell the salt on your face.

“B-baby? Oh my fucking god, please no!” He screamed brokenly into your corpse. His tears dampened the dress you were wearing (the same one you wore when he tore your heart from its chest). All Katsuki could do was scream in pure, unfiltered pain at the loss of his love.

Memories of you both flittered through Katsuki’s mind. Mornings where the sunlight trickled into your bedroom as he studied your face sleepily. Memories of the sweet and shy kisses, of lazy summer days, of comfort from agonising nightmares all cursed Katsuki as he mourned your death.

He truly had nothing now. No family. No friends. No you.

So, Katsuki did the only thing his paralysed mind could think of; the same claws that scarred your wrist brought hell down on his neck, his claws shredding his gullet within seconds.

Katsuki coughed, once, twice before the metallic tang of blood seeped into his mouth and seeped down his face in buckets. Not that he could see before due to the tears in his eyes, but the quickening of the blood down his body reduced his vision greatly, black spots already swimming in and out of his peripheral.

He only managed to sink down beside you, wanting his last dying moments to be beside the very person that made him happy. The very person who changed his life. The very person who’s life he had ruined.

Through the tears, Katsuki nestled his head close to you, tears dripping on to your wounds as he found it increasingly difficult to breath. He gasped unconsciously for breath as he tried to grip on to you, feeling scared of his descent into death. As long as you were there, he would follow you and plead for forgiveness.

He started to feel content.

‘I- I’m so sorry. I’m coming,’ he thought. His face rested on your shoulder as his body started to shut down completely.

But it wasn’t until his final breath did his eyes shoot open one last time at the sound of the four small whimpers across the room.

“D-daddy?”

[aquilapolariz]

memento mori (trafalgar law x reader)

Summary: You can’t help but notice Law’s obsession with death.

Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for Law’s background, headcanon HEAVY, happens right after Punk Hazard

Word Count: 1.6k | Read below the cut or on Ao3 here!

“I’ll be damned,” you started, “so Luffy really can rope anyone into his schemes. Even a Warlord.” You walked over to him, finding a spot by his side aboard the Thousand Sunny. “Ah, excuse me, ex-warlord.”

He looked at you in the corner of his eye, his head refusing to turn away from the shore Punk Hazard. “It’s out of necessity,” Law mumbled.

“My captain wants the same thing you want- necessity and coincidence are all you need.”

Law grasped his sword, holding it tight, trying to seek some comfort. “It’s only the second time running into you Strawhats, but both those times have been…chaotic. Feels like a little more than a coincidence.”

You think back to Saobody and seeing Law for the first time in the flesh; he was handsome, cocky, and intriguing. The holder of the Opu Opu no Mi, and a doctor no less- the perfect complement to his devil fruit, you noted.

Power gravitates to power. Luffy seemed to pull in both Eustass Kidd and Trafalgar Law when they fought off the Navy outside the Celestial Dragon’s auction house.

Intellect gravitates to intellect. As the Strawhat’s Devil fruit researcher, you knew that the Opu Opu no Mi was one of the most versatile fruits to exist. As Law fought, you observed. With just one word he established a room and stood in the same spot in order to fight, separating people’s limbs from their bodies. Why is he tossing some Navy guy’s head in his hand like a baseball? What a weird guy. You laughed to yourself, letting the three supernovas effortlessly take out the marines.

A long two years later, aboard the Sunny, and Law looked as handsome as ever. But his weariness was revealed in his constant scowl. He was tired, seemingly ready to throw his life away. Even the setting sun, fiery and blazing, couldn’t seem to melt the ice in his cold eyes.

“Must be fate then,” you concluded. Rather, intervention for Law’s state of mind in the form of your crew.

Your attentive gaze was always noticed by his own, even at Saobody. You looked at him with curiosity as if you could read his every thought, as if you desperately wanted to. If this was a battle of observation and wit, then so be it. Law was a complex man, and you would love to pick apart his brain, and as much as he was loath to admit, he would love to pick apart yours.

“Chopper told me you healed the kids from Caesar’s drug. Thank you,” you said kindly as the Sunny drifted away from Punk Hazard, the children and the Marines waving goodbye.

“You shouldn’t thank me. They still have to go through painful treatment,” Law said.

“So the Opu Opu no Mi has limits?”

“If I could cure everything, I would. Those children have been consistently consuming that drug for over a year. It’s part of their bloodstream at this point. They’ll have to deal with withdrawals, their abnormal body sizes, reintegrating back into society, and any residual effects we don’t know about.”

You breathed in, savoring the salty air that you missed during the chaos at Punk Hazard. “They will suffer, true. But at least…it’ll be a little less than it was before. Their families have missed them.”

Law gritted his teeth. He felt ashamed, complicit in those children’s pain for so long. How dare he call himself a doctor?

“Why do you, as a doctor, have the word ‘death’ on your hand?” Your hand shot out to grab his wrist. You brought it close to your face, studying his tattoo. “A little contradictory for someone who seems to take his job seriously.”

“It’s a memento mori of sorts,” he replied vaguely. Your hand on his sent unfamiliar- and unwanted- shivers up his spine.

“A reminder of mortality, huh?” Law nodded, impressed.

He nodded, “It’s also plastered on the side of my submarine.” It’s been a while since he’s seen his trusty yellow vessel, his Jolly Roger painted black next to the word “DEATH,” just like his own tattoos.

“That I believe. Wait, you have a submarine?” Law noticed your eyes light up as they looked at him.

“Yeah, the Polar Tang.”

You hummed, imagining how wondrous it would be to see the depths of the ocean every single day at sea. “Did you become a surgeon before or after eating your devil fruit?”

“After, I guess.” He called himself a surgeon ever since he extracted White Lead Disease from his own body. A doctor since the age of twelve, only by necessity.

“You guess?” You questioned.

“I guess,” Law smirked.

“You said your devil fruit has limits…?”

“Of course, it can only do so much.”

“I think…I get it now.”

Law raised an eyebrow.

“With your fruit, you are the perfect doctor. But even then…” Your eyes traced the letters on Law’s fingers.

He slowly took his hand out of your grasp. “People still die,” he said.

“Doctors know death better than anyone, huh?” You said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

His eyes widened. After being constantly surrounded by idiots, being in your presence was refreshing, enjoyable even. “Did your research, it seems.”

You shook your head. “Research alone wouldn’t tell me something like that. Plus, I’m sure I’m missing some details.”

And you were. Law knows Death all too well. Death from sickness. His sister, his parents. Death from murder. Corazon. Death by his own hand. The hundreds of pirates whose hearts he gave away to the Navy. The death he hopes to deliver to Doflamingo. To stray away from death would be to stray away from his identity, so clearly conveyed in the ink on his fingers.

“My tattoos constantly remind me of what I’m trying to get my patients to avoid. Sure, it’s a memento mori, but it’s not only for my own sake. It’s for everyone’s, especially the lives I hold in my hand, both as a captain and a doctor.”

No one ever questioned the presence of his tattoos, his fascination with death. Many assumed he just wanted to be an edgy doctor-pirate, living up to his unsettling name of Surgeon of Death. But those inquisitive eyes of yours seemed to see right through him, down to the depths of his very being, past all of those preconceived notions. You seemed to hang onto every word he said, urgently and desperately, making him feel like he was the only person in the world when you spoke to him.

“It’s just that,” he felt his breath catch in his throat, “it’s always a good thing to remind ourselves that we’re not immortal. Even if I help some live longer, it’s only just that. Death is the one thing I can guarantee everyone- I can’t promise life.”

The fiery sunlight danced upon the waters of the ocean, closer than ever to melting away Law’s icy gaze.

“So…how’d you end up a surgeon?”

“My father was one,” he said dismissively, “and I just happened to eat the perfect devil fruit for that line of work.”

“A mighty coincidence,” you noted amusedly, well-aware that Law wasn’t telling you everything.

And Law, too, was aware that you could see that.

“How’d someone as observant as you end up on a crew of idiots?”

You shrugged. “They’re not all idiots though,” you said, glancing at Franky tinkering with his latest device as Robin watched.

“Could join my crew instead.” Law cringed at his own words as soon as they left his mouth. Would he even be alive when all the dust has settled in Dressrosa? What would be the point of you joining his crew if he wasn’t there? But his body and mind, under stress and anticipation since Luffy arrived on Punk Hazard, knew he needed someone like you, now more than ever. And so he spoke it without a thought.

How quickly curiosity gravitates to curiosity.

You rolled your eyes. “Gotta give me something worth leaving this for,” you gestured broadly at the Sunny.

“Like I said, I have a submarine. It’s a whole other world down there.”

“You’ve probably seen things that no pirate has ever even dreamed of seeing, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like Fishman Island, multiplied by a thousand.”

“Fishman Island really was beautiful…I would like to visit your Polar Tang one day. As a visitor,” you clarified. “There’s a reason I’m on this crew- everyone helps each other to live life to the absolute fullest.” A sting of jealousy pierces his heart as Law watches you look at your crew fondly, with all the love in the world. He feels his heart skip a beat despite your expected rejection to join his crew. You sighed. “Law, it’s like you said. Death is sure to happen but…in the meantime, we can’t forget to live.”

But how could he do that when he had a soul to avenge? Corazon’s soul- a death that weighed heavy on his heart, one that he swore to never forget.

“To live?” He asked, his voice shaky as veins in his hands started to feel like pins and needles.

“To live is to laugh…is to cry, to love, to feel.” You tore your eyes away from the crew to look at the broken man before you. “It’s to be free.”

Those words sounded oddly familiar. Corazon’s last words echoed in Law’s mind: “You are now…truly free.” Looking at you, the ice in his eyes started to thaw. With every blink, the details in your face were becoming blurry, the Sunny feeling like it came to a full stop.

A wave of nostalgia washed over Law as he stared at his tattooed fingers. As he squinted at them, the five letters on each finger, spelling out the word DEATH, started to blur. In his vision, those same letters started to waver, each one morphing into entirely new letters. With you in his periphery, he mumbled out the new word that it formed:

“Alive.”

~bonus:

“…Is this…how (Y/N) flirts?” Usopp asked Nami as they hid behind the tangerine trees.

“Through an interrogation? Yeah, seems about right.”

“Hey, what are you guys whispering abo-?” Luffy said.

Nami pulled him behind the tangerine tree. “Shhh!”

“Why does Tra-guy seem to only like talking to (Y/N)?” Luffy frowned.

“Because-“

“Could join my crew,” Law said to you in the distance.

“OH SO HE’S TRYING TO STEAL THEM FROM THE CREW, GUM-GUM ELEPHANT GUN!!!!!!!”

Usopp and Nami threw themselves onto their captain to prevent him from transforming, “LUFFY NOOOOOOOO.”

[chaoticcatbehaviour]

Nero's Imperial Household HCS

⚠️ Anything about the Gods that are written about here refers specifically to the RRverse. I am in no way talking about the actual deities themselves.

• Son of Hermes

- I'm calling him Dolios for now because it's an epithet of Hermes and it makes it easier to remember him.

- Son of Hermes, either one of the athletic epithets or the Psychopomp epithets.

- About 18 years old? Honestly what even was the age limit of Nero's stepchildren?

- Ok so I'm still confused as to what his powers would be but I'm leaning into the psychopomp side of Hermes. Although I'm also leaning on him being stronger than the average person because there's no way Nero didn't teach his step children to defend themselves without using their powers (Also Hermes is the god of Athletes sooo)

- I headcanon the Hermes kid as the oldest, partially because I don't know who else to make the oldest stepchild of Nero, and partly because I have a feeling that Nero would make the "calmer" cabins (AKA Cabin 11 and Cabin 7) really really feral just so he can showcase his strength in a "Hey I made the kids from the calmer cabins really feral HAHA IMAGINE WHAT I CAN DO" kind of way and also because he's an asshole and can't let kids be kids. Also because Nero's a furry.

• Nero definitely gave all of his stepchildren jewellery that represented their godly parent btw. I headcanon Dolios to have something like this.

Because why not? (And no this is not an excuse to show literally every piece of jewellery I have saved in my pinterest board) Meg has half-moon shaped rings that turn to scimitars but I have no idea what weapon these earrings would turn to so if y'all have any ideas tell me!!

• Lucius

- Nero really wanted the entire world to know who his step childrens' godly parent was huh 😭 Anyways onto his character!

- Son of Apollo, specifically Apollo Nomios.

- 16 to 17 years old (probably).

- LISTEN. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT THERE AREN'T CHILDREN OF APOLLO WHO HAVE SHEPHERDS AS THEIR MORTAL PARENT. HOW DARE RICK FORGET ABOUT BRANCHUS MY BABY. Anyways in my head Lucius's mortal father was a shepherd which is how he attracted Apollo. Again, I'm not sure what powers he would have but he definitely knows how to fight (because like I said, there's no way Nero didn't teach his stepchildren to defend themselves without using their powers). Also he can talk to ravens. And crows. And sheep. Because how come Percy is the only one that can talk to his father's sacred animals? That's unfair!

- I'm pretty sure he is one of the oldest demigods in Nero's Imperial Household? In my mind he's the second oldest out of them all.

• His jewellery is probably something like this bracelet.

It turns into a Gladiator btw. Not sure how that works but then again we have no idea how Meg's rings work either so yeah.

Also a bow and arrow seemed way too basic to me. Like may the Gods forbid that their children use anything other than the ones their godly parents use.

• Aemilia

- At first I got really confused over what godly parent she could have but then I searched up the meaning of her name and.... yeah.

- Daughter of Athena, not sure which epithet tho.

- Same age as Lucius, about 17 years old.

- Oh gods I know damn well that Nero made this girl suffer. Like you already have people having high expectations about Athena kids and then your step parent is NERO. Like this girl was probably given some big ass sum to solve at the age of 7 or something ( WISDOM IS NOT THE SAME AS KNOWLEDGE NERO). Oh my poor little girl. We know next to nothing about her but I'm gonna make her and Lucius my pookies.

- Either the third oldest stepchild in Nero's Imperial Household or the same age as Lucius.

- Not sure what jewellery Nero would give her tho. An owl necklace? Something that looks like this?

What weapon could this even turn into? A shield maybe? Y'know the thing with Medusa? (RR messed up her myth so bad in PJO that now I'm confused as to whether it's following the Greek or Roman myth).

• Hunter of Artemis

- I have absolutely no hcs about her whatsoever because I'm still confused as to who her godly parent could be. Like we know that Meg is supposed to replace Demeter which means that his other stepchildren are also mostly the children of the god they're supposed to replace.

- Still, I'm gonna have to make her a daughter of Diomedes and an ex hunter of Artemis otherwise I don't know how it'll work. I'm not sure about her name either.

- Younger than Aemilia and Lucius by a year or two, so that makes her 15 to 16 years old.

- She and Lucius are probably always paired together since Artemis & Apollo are twins. I'm not sure what power I want to give her so I'd love to know what you guys want her powers to be!

- Third oldest stepchild of Nero.

- Her jewellery turns into a bow and arrow because that's usually the weapon that the Hunters of Artemis use. I HC it to look something like these two.

How would this turn into a bow and arrow you ask? I have no idea!

These are only for the four oldest demigods, if you guys want I'll make one for the others too! (I've basically divided it into 3 parts, there are 4 children in each group and the groups are -Oldest, Middle and Youngest, the same way Apollo divided them)

Tagging- @actual-gremlin @arihuntress @humburgercheeseburger @sahebro-apollosangel @lesbianbanana @whats-a-lester @please-be-nice-im-sensitive me if any of you want me to remove you next time!

, ╱|、

(˚ˎ 。7

|、˜〵

じしˍ,)ノ

I'd really appreciate it if y'all actually read it tho....

Please don't let this flop I beg you pls

[sasster]

Civil Matters

I guess that’s that then, huh? [doc] —

Very few trolls can attest to having seen The Restorer outside of the grounds that his safe haven of a city occupies in the many hundreds of sweeps since the passing of his predecessor. If asked after it, he might say there is simply no reason to exert any power over the remainder of his region; they have always more or less followed the norms of the area immediate to the church and its surroundings. Even fewer trolls have seen him move with any more passion than his typically relaxed gait, if his very recent worrying after his son went uncounted.

All of this nonsense feels to him as though it somehow started seconds ago and has been going on for many many sweeps at the same time. Whenever it started, he would like to see it end now, a thought that might have lent itself to why he moves with such swiftness behind enemy lines.

When he enters the Church of the Divine Dreamer, the yellow blooded priest falls short mid-sentence. His wings twitch, and Ailzea supposes that he is in search of the right thing to say in the face of their territory’s overseeing purple blood deciding on a surprise visit. Behind the frozen priest, the Goddess he preaches in the name of tilts her head at the sight of the newcomer.

Then she smiles.

The gathered congregants' heads turn to catch sight of the disruption.

“Father Restorer! Will you be joining us for service this evening?” She asks brightly as her brother bristles.

Ailzea nods his head. “Please forgive my tardiness. It is quite a bit out of the way from my own home.” He says and then takes a seat at the back.

Promptly, the attention of the congregation returns to the priest at the pulpit, whose visible eye darts wildly between them and someone unseen at the other end of it.

The godling closes her eyes and settles back in, while her brother clears his throat, taking a moment to recalibrate his thinking and relocate his center. He begins to move again, there is something familiar about the way he carries himself that fills the Restorer’s mind with a weight that he is uncomfortable with carrying.

Cylion suddenly smiles.

“Yes, thank you for joining us, Father Roatus! It is truly an honor to have you.” Clearly not one to let an opportunity slip through his claws, the yellow blood places those same hands down onto the lectern with gusto, and sweeps his gaze over the crowd in a manner that suggests hunger. He practically laps up their attention. “In times of uncertainty, even other religious leaders make the time to visit our Dreamer.” A quiet murmuring starts to spread among the congregation, from what Ailzea listens in on there is a range of reaction in the small gathering that ranges from doubt to astonishment. To him it seems that Cylion really grew into the perfect little priest that Ailzea’s own predecessor looked for within him. At least someone came to learn from the brute. A shame about everyone catching strays as a result of that learning.

“The dream world that you know of is a bridge between the divine and mortal worlds,” he continues, explaining what must be an introduction to the religion for new comers. There is a nervous edge to his movement as he gestures to the furnishings and decorations that resemble or allude to Nymira within the chamber. “And our Dreamer is a gift from the Divine, sent here to show us and teach in its name the ways we can become closer to it…”

Behind him the Goddess sits motionless, save for the swaying of her tail fanned out behind her. What a massive undertaking for such a young troll. The pair of them must be under tremendous stress.  Trollkind was never meant for the burdens of godhood, but damn do they keep trying.

Cylion continues to ramble on in his indoctrination and Ailzea finds himself drawn to the artwork of the young Goddess, allowing the light blues and dreamlike qualities of the pieces pull him away from the sermon. It is a wonder she doesn’t feel completely smothered with all of this attention, that the only pressure she claims to feel presently is the way her brother has started to behave.

He will not get a better understanding of the situation until the three of them sit down for a real conversation. Four if Favion chooses civility. Ailzea is unsure that it’s something he is capable of these days, however. A conversation to have with Weaver when this has all ended.

There is a sudden, almost flighty, tap on his shoulder that serves as a welcome interruption from the thought of his old friend’s descent into madness, and he turns to give his full attention to that disruption. He trades the view of beautiful artwork, depicting scenes of the whimsical and fantastical, for an uneasy looking troll with a bowl cut. Arkiro would find that juxtaposition hilarious.

“Can you come with me?” The disruption mumbles under the priest's lecture, and Ailzea can’t tell if those pupil-less eyes are on him or the speaker at the far front.

He casts a look to the Dreamer before he responds. Nymira gives him an encouraging smile. Somehow, despite the circumstances, she still believes her brothers operate on goodwill. He nods and stands to follow the troll that stands in front of him.

They walk until they reach a part of the compound that seems a bit more residential, their slice of land surely impressive and no doubt a result of Favion’s masterful use of manipulation tactics when he’s in his best mind. 

“Cylion will speak to you in here,” the troll with the bowl cut says as he leads him into a dining area flanked by two closed bedroom doors. It is all he’s said the entire trip. “In the name of privacy.” He explains.

“I understand. Thank you.”

Then his escort moves to exit the way they entered, but Ailzea speaks again before he can get very far. “Will the elder Lefera be joining us as well? 

He freezes in the doorway and seems to wince or shudder at the thought.

“Yeah, I’ll,” a pause. “I’ll check on that for you.”

A curious response, but not one the Restorer can fault him for.

Favion is not a troll to be invoked lightly.

Some time passes before the young priest finds his way to the room that Ailzea waits for him in. In that time, Ailzea has found himself regretting not bringing something with which to keep his hands and mind busy. Though he dares not craft under that savage of a man’s roof. The ghost of a horrible memory looms somewhere in the back of his mind. He sighs it away.

Cylion enters the room briskly, already having tugged the collar out from his shirt, the sunflower from his eye, holding each in his hand as he pulls the rest of his ceremonial garb up over his head to reveal a tanktop underneath. The ceremonial clothes seems to Ailzea to hide much of the bulk of the yellow blood’s wings, but his under shirt allows him the freedom to stretch them out. Which he does.

He discards his accessories on a counter on his way to where the Restorer sits. Finally, he gives him his full attention.

The eye contact fills Ailzea’s head with an uncomfortably pregnant fog.

“Father will not be joining us.” He asserts.

It must be that he is over the original shock of the Restorer’s presence enough for the coolness of his facade to have taken root again. Something tells him that it was in the name of that facade that he was sent away in the middle of the sermon.

“I am afraid my visit largely concerns your father and his recent behavior, regarding my children and otherwise. I would like him to be in attendance.”

Cylion’s nose nearly scrunches, almost twisting his face up at the mention of children, but he stops himself partway through. Ailzea imagines the protest of Marrie as a child dying on the tongue he sucks against his teeth.

Cool neutrality returns to his face. “We are deeply sorry for that–”

“Favion will join us. Nymira as well.” There is a level of force alien to even Ailzea that the words leave his mouth with. “Please.” He amends.

The younger priest’s mouth clamps shut with an audible clacking of his teeth, clearly unused to his authority being challenged. “Father is unwell. And Nymira must rest.”

“Cylion. I am no longer asking.”

Something familiar that isn’t forcibly repressed in the Restorer’s mind bubbles behind Cylion’s eye and just below the surface of his features. Ailzea’d seen that look long ago, hundreds of times, just before Favion would do something reprehensible.  The expression passes over the younger Lefera like a ghost.

At least he has some level of self control.

“Of course.” He grits, takes a moment to step away to give the instruction to Bowl Cut at the door, and returns to sit near the Grand High Blood finally tossing his weight around. “It would be easier with me.”

“I am not looking for easy. I am looking for finished.”

Cylion shakes his head and averts his gaze to his own perfectly manicured nails, tongue sucking against his teeth again. “You’re as stubborn as Archie.”

–

Nymira arrives first, also changed into clothing designed more in the name of comfort than presentation. She practically floats ahead of Bowl Cut as they enter.

The two yellow bloods exchange an indecipherable look as the godling crosses all the way to the side of the table the Restorer sits at.

“I’m so happy you made it, Father Restorer!” Her enthusiasm as palpable as one brother's dread and the other’s anger. “Did you enjoy the service?”

“I did, thank you for having me.” He looks at the brothers for a brief moment and then returns his attention to her. “I have been thinking about our conversation, my child. How does some time away from home sound to you?”

The silence that wraps itself around the room as the question leaves his mouth is as thick and impenetrable as the block that prevents Ailzea from properly focusing on the winged yellow blood.

“She can’t just–”

“I will not force you,” Ailzea continues once Cylion’s bewildered, close to the tipping point, voice pierces through the blanket of silence. “However, there is a space for you within my walls should you choose to take me up on that offer.”

Nymira stares back at him with eyes wide and shaking, bright shimmering pools of black that could suck him in with her desire if he wasn’t careful. She chews on the idea, her gaze shifting from the elder priest to the younger, then back again.

“Nymira-” Cylion’s protest is quelled as quickly as it starts by a wave of Ailzea’s hand.

The Goddess fidgets.

“Father Restorer,” her voice catches and he waits for her to find her balance. She chances a glance at her brother, he stares back as though he means to bend her to his will with his mind. She shrinks. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I trust that your brothers will handle business while you are away.”

Now it is Ailzea’s turn to put the full brunt of his attention on Cylion, the younger priest does not flinch in the face of it, a stormy look taking hold of his own features. Both sets of wings flare and fold in on themselves in time with the breathing he fights hard to regulate.

Cylion exhales hard through his nose.

“Father Roatus,” he begins, silver tongue searching for a line to pull. “There are people here that rely on her here. She can’t be taken from her people.”

“That is a decision she will make when she has had her rest, should she choose to take my offer.”

Cylion opens his mouth to respond, but he pauses. His attention is somewhere else, brought toward the entrance to the room, by the sound of a low thud that spills into it. All eyes fall on Favion as he crouches into the doorway.

Immediately the elder Lefera’s attention is grabbed by the sight of Ailzea.

He breaks into an uneven grin.

“Favion,” Ailzea acknowledges him with a nod. “We were just discussing Nymira’s break from her duties.”

The hulk of a yellow blood stops just beyond the threshold and grips the doorframe, he works his jaw for a moment. Then he speaks.

“Interesting proposal,” he gravels, the words struggling through a rock tumbler before falling out of his mouth. “My sprout stays here.”

“It is not a request.” Ailzea asserts as he stands up.

A rattle of a growl shakes loose in the beast's chest, Cylion and his brother look between each other, Nymira takes a step behind the Restorer.

“Favion, I only asked you here so that your children are not made to explain to you what has occurred.” The Restorer turns his attention to the godling and nods again in her direction. “The decision is hers.”

There is a sharp snap, and a crack begins to form along the door frame from beneath Favion’s massive claw, then another silence descends on the group. The silence vies for dominance over the new wave of tense atmosphere that smothers them. Nymira says nothing, shrinking from her father and closer to the purple priest when he lets loose another growl and steps further into the room. This time the growl is punctuated by the sound of his teeth grinding together.

Cylion’s anger looks right at home on his father’s face.

Beyond the ferocity, Ailzea finds something else mixed into it. Something that he cannot place.

Not on Favion’s face, anyway, the way his lips always twisted into a fierce snarl ready to rip someone apart. Beyond that, there was something soft. A tenderness.

Love. He thinks. For his daughter.

And here she was hiding away from him.

“Nymira?” Ailzea asks softly, tearing his attention away from the hulk. “What do you say?”

“I would like to go with you.” She responds in a voice meant for a mouse, unable to rip her own eyes off of her father’s threat display. “Just… For a little while.”

“Sprout,” Favion advances, enough that Ailzea can make out the age which aids the deterioration that mars the yellow giant’s face. The ghost of a fearsome sneer finds itself locked behind the gentle expression he wears like a mask to look at his daughter with. “Why?”

There is a lull, the Restorer looks from Favion to his descendant behind him. The winged troll looks furious, staring coldly at his sister, once against doing his best to control her with that steely gaze.

Ailzea turns slightly to obscure her from his view.

Nymira breathes, he feels her grab hold of his robes from behind.

“Father,” her voice wavers. “You hurt my friends and everyone was ready to lie to me about it! Cylion has been cruel and he…” She hesitates, Ailzea imagines that she might’ve brought up Little Friend but thought better of it in present company. He is grateful for this. “He let a bad man take me away! To teach me some sort of lesson. He made sure I would forget things… That his words meant more to me than my own thoughts. That’s no way to treat someone you care about!” The words rush out of her quickly, a poorly made dam coming down in the face of her flood of emotion.

Favion stands statue still, teeth grinding all the while he processes the information. It would take a moment for him to catch it all even on his best day. Behind him, Cylion cannot help the growl that thunders from his chest. Bowl Cut fidgets with the edges of his shirt.

“I just need somewhere to breathe. Please, Father.”

Ailzea speaks before the broken yellow blood finds use of his mouth again. “Go, Nymira. Gather your things.”

“Okay. Thank you Father. Thank you, too, Father Restorer.” She says breathlessly and takes the long way around to the room’s exit so she does not risk crossing the path of her explosive brother and frozen father.  Her failed prophets.

When she is safely out of the room, all compassion leaves Favion’s face. His expression twists into one of pure animosity, then his lips part into a snarl that brings Ailzea back to all of those daymares where his children are mutilated right before his eyes.

One of the brothers makes an involuntary sound.

The yellow blood advances on him, claw angled to grab him up by the horn.

Ailzea sighs.

“Favion. I have had enough of this!” Once again, the force that Ailzea manages is alien even to himself. “If you cannot behave civilly, return to your chambers!” This time his own voice rings loud in his ears, leaving behind the echoes of all the times in his youth that he’d been on the receiving end of one of his predecessor's tyrades.

He sounds just like Matere Roatus. That man’s voice on Ailzea’s tongue leaves a metallic taste behind. How many times was that line used on him, followed by the destruction of something dear to his heart?

Ailzea would never stoop so low.

When he refocuses on the scene in front of him, the beast of a troll has already fallen still. He stands in a neutral position, perhaps awaiting an order. At the same time, the pair of brothers have found themselves on the other side of the kitchen, not keen on a bath of blood if it came down to it.

“Favion, you will let her do as she wishes.”

Favion grunts, and though he appears to comply, contempt poisons his features and taints the air between them.

Cylion opens his mouth to protest, anger paints him in a grim light, but Ailzea shoots it down with a glower of his own.

“The game is done. Nymira has made her decision.”