#even if that way is ''holy shit this game is a mess but the bones... mmm delicious marrow in them bones''

[echthr0s]

It actually kind of fascinates me how detailed both the criticisms and defenses of Veilguard are getting. I get the impression that reading and thinking about those posts is probably a more interesting experience than playing the actual game, which is likely just so aggressively mid and unsatisfying that halfway through I'll forget I was even playing it and end up distracted by the idea of playing Rogue Trader again or something.

[sugoi-and-spice]

Vox Relationship Headcanons

Time to strike the iron while the hyperfixation is HOT!

(I mean come ON . Look at this fucking evil dork. I love him).

SFW

It goes without saying that Vox is HUGE on appearances. He does not make his relationships public lightly. His brand as one of the V’s after all is perfection, and he’s not going to go out arm and arm with a person unless they know that.

That being said, especially given his on again off again relationship with Valentino, I could absolutely see him as being the type to fall for a hot mess. 

A very different person with his partner in front of and behind the scenes. When the cameras are off, he’s warm, affectionate, and vulnerable. He’ll share his every insecurity with you, strip himself bare to the bone for you to love and comfort truly and honestly. And he’s an excellent listener too, always available to hold and talk through any problem you have. Your problems are his problems — you’ll work through them together.

When in the public eye however, he can be a downright prick — putting everything, and I do mean everything between you two on the backburner to keep up appearances. He will not hesitate to make jokes at your expense if it means his ratings will go up.

Fights with him are explosive. No, he’s not the type to lay a hand on you, but we’d be lying if we didn’t admit that he can scream at you within an inch of your life.

Words of Affirmation and Gift Giving are his primary love languages. Specifically, he needs words of affirmation and he loves to give gifts. And holy shit does he give the most uncomfortably lavish gifts. Diamonds, rolexes, new cars — no price is too high for his darling.

Surprisingly, he prefers home dates. Watching a movie on the couch or having a little game night with a bottle of wine. He does genuinely enjoy the authentic time you spend together and he wishes he could have more of it, so the more he can get of that private, intimate time together, the better.

And while he is a man of the future, so theoretically should like video games, I do think he has a certain soft spot for a good old-fashioned board game.

When it comes to video games though, he does tend to gravitate to phone games. 

Vox is from the 1950’s so I do think he prefers a more nuclear family and relationship dynamic. He wants to bring home the bacon and have his partner ready to fry it up in a pan with a dirty martini ready and waiting for him. That being said, he is a man that always looks to the future as well, so he’s by no means above doing chores of his own. At the end of the day, this desire for more traditional relationship roles really comes from a place of needing to be doted on rather than any views he actually has about gender.

The man’s a sucker for a good massage from his partner. This wired up workaholic has knots that you can’t even imagine, so please, offer him a nice bankrupt at the end of the day. He’ll be sure to return the favor tenfold.

A very lovey-dovey drunk. Oh my GOD, he’s so touchy-feely and weepy and just all the y’s. You want a guaranteed cuddle-wuddle session? Load him up with a couple glasses of scotch — you’ll have those chords coiling around you.

And yes, his alcohol of choice is scotch. Scotch, dirty martinis, or a nice oaky chardonnay.

This man wants to get married. Yes, even if he is in hell, the idea of not having to worry about who his next lay or source of connection will come from, having someone that will stand by his side through thick and thin, a partner? Now that’d be the (after)life.

NSFW

BIG fucking praise kink. This man NEEDS you to stroke more than just his bod and his cock, he needs you to stroke his ego too.

“God you’re so good”, “FUCK, you’re so big”, “Nobody can make me feel this way but you, Vox”.

Don’t worry, it’s not just for his own ego. He loves to give praise as much as he receives it. This man is a TALKER in the sack.

“Fuck, fuck yeah. Just like that, baby. You’re so fucking good, just like thaaaaat.”

He’s also got a little bit of a degradation kink — but in general, it still feeds into stroking his own ego. Loves to tease and taunt his partner once in a while about what a horny little slut they are, how he loves to see them so desperate and pathetic. Asking his partner, “you’d have anyone right now, wouldn’t you?” just for them to assure him that no, nobody but him will do.

On that note, the man can dish out degrading dirty talk, but he can NOT fucking take it.

Very much a switch. Sure, he loves to fuck, but he’ll just as happily let his partner bend him over his own desk and fuck the shit out of him. A good orgasm is a good orgasm, his ego may be big, but not big enough to get in the way of that.

Big fan of bondage, both on his partner and himself. There are few sights better to him than seeing his partner bound and shibari’d in his own cord and wires, holy shit. But he’ll also never say no when his partner breaks out their own pair of fuzzy handcuffs for him.

He absolutely short-circuits when he cums, so watch out. Sometimes, if he cums hard enough, he may just zap you a bit so watch out.

Favorite position is seated cowgirl. He loves the way he can hold his partner close while ramming as deep into them as possible. Not to mention the fact that either one of them can take over control at any moment. He can thrust up, they can grind down — it’s just the best of all worlds. Not to mention you can do it from his desk chair.

On that note, he’s a big BIG fan of cockwarming. 

LOTS of precum. This HD motherfucker is just a weepy mess.

I can’t explain why, but Vox just seems like an ass man to me.

He’s not necessarily a cuddler after, but he is something of a “savor the moment” kind of guy. He likes to lay in bed (or chair lol) with his partner for a good while afterwards, smoking a cigarette, reveling in some post-nut clarity conversation, just really taking in the moment. His life is so busy at all other times honestly, always looing and speeding to the future. Sex and post-sex are the times where he really does just like to stop and live in the moment.

[thechaoticplayer]

Eating His Prey

author's note: I really wanted to write a fic about Ike, more specifically sadistic and yandere Ike because holy shit it was kinda hot what he was doing sheeeeeesh Summary: Being such a sly (apparently my keyboard wanted to make you slay so you're also very slay) and mischievous little fox you are, you decide to mess around in a wolf's territory. However, you're in for a wild reality check... Contains: degrading oh wow, dom Ike, hes literally using you, and all that spicy stuff mmm

Hunting in the wolf's territory was an adventure within itself, the new terrain and yummy prey was something that you desired very much. Besides, wouldn't be fun to mess around a bit? You are a great predator yourself, enjoying making your prey squeak and cry underneath your arms. You'd drag out their suffering for a good while. It was all fun and games for you.

You are currently traipsing through the forest full of crowded trees, scattered patches of sunlight kissing the grass floor. You finished having a good meal of a rabbit, a cute little thing you almost felt bad for devouring. Your nose quivered, sniffing the air and catching a scent.

Wolf scent. But your senses told you he was away at the moment. You grin, lips pulled back to reveal canine teeth. His little home! Maybe you could get some sort of rabbit shit and litter it all across his home. Maybe you could build a little fort out of sticks for him.

You dart in and out bushes with ease, your feet silently tapping the ground. Your prey hardly ever heard you coming, which was fortunate and unfortunate at once. Unaware little things. Thank god you were an excellent predator and not some weak ass prey!

You find yourself at the mouth of a cave, looking awfully gloomy inside. You sniff once more. Yup, his scent is much stronger here. Without a care in the world, you skip on inside.

It was very dark for a good few feet, your night vision clicking in after a few seconds. Bones lay scattered across the cave floor: skulls, ribs, femurs, arms. Some even arranged in twisted ways, like horrific art. Wolf must be some sort of sick freak. Not like you were anyone to judge. But still. Freak.

But it gradually began to get brighter, and you walk faster, you didn't want to dilly dally after all. You emerge within a bigger room, with a hole on the ceiling like a window. You notice there was no patch of leaves or soft grass for rest (what the fuck does he actually sleep on this hard ass rock? The wolf is literally a psycho) and surprisingly, no weird bone art. Just tallies on the wall, made with his claw you presumed, lining the walls. Several rows after row. What is this? his body count?

Eh. you don't care. You just wanna create a mess out of his home.

You drag some of the bones from the corridor and toss them around. Snapping some in half and creating your own work of art. You giggle as you line up some bones, a picture of a cock on his floor now. Your tail swishes back and forth with excitement. Perhaps you should go back to the riverbed, gather some mud and plaster it all over the wolf's walls. A nice touch to such a bland room.

You turn your head and freeze. Your heart rate increases.

The wolf himself is here, staring you down with golden eyes. Glowing from the darkness, expression blank as he watched you. Caught-red handed. How long was here there anyway? How did you not hear his entrance? as for the smell, his scent was all over the place, and it is very strong. Luck was simply not on your side.

"Well well well," the grey wolf chuckles darkly, sending electricity down your spine. Instinct told you to run your ass out of there, but you froze, out of fear. "What's a little fox doing here in my domain? Wrecking my home, hm?"

You say nothing, eyes glancing behind him. The only exit. A laugh, as he approaches still.

"Since we are going to get very acquainted, my name is Ike Eveland," the wolf says cheerfully and you furrow your brows because what the hell? "And now, answer me this: what gave you the idea to come here? Death wish?"

"...b-because i wanna," your shaky voice replies and you clear your throat. You straighten your body and stare back at him, never backing down. Not too some puny wolf. "I go wherever I want."

Ike tsks at you, stalking closer. "Now now, I like the confidence yes, but do you realise your situation, dear?" He smiles, sharp teeth bared. "I'm going to eat you alive."

Finally, he launches himself at you, claws glinting in the sunlight. Immediately your legs tense and push you, sprinting below him out of the room and into the corridor. Your heart roars in your ears as you run as far as you possibly can out of the cave, breathing heavily.

What a fucking insane little shit! He was definitely a bit smaller than other wolves you met, but something about the way his sinister gaze sent shivers down your spine. You hated to admit it, but the wolf was actually pretty intimidating. His eyes were such a lovely shade of gold though...

You shake your head and keep running, hopping through a small river to make him lose your scent. You turn towards another direction, toward the familiar big tree you liked to lean against when you wanted to think. It was a good distance from the wolf's territory, so you should be fine. Besides, why would Ike come all the way over here for one silly fox? Heh.

You arrive at the foot of the tree and plop down, regaining your oxygen. Damn, you've never ran so much in your life. You curl your fluffy tail around you, plucking out leaves. Your beating heart slowed a bit as relief flooded your veins. That was simply a vibe check from the gods above. You have learned to stay away from there in the near by future, because if you went there again, you wouldn't have a future.

You lean down with the balls of your hand on the grass, stretching with your ass in the air and felt every bone crack in your back. You sigh contently. It has always felt good to do that after a run.

Your ear twitched and a sound of rustling bushes interrupts your stretch. You sit back, suddenly alert. You sniff the air, but only smell your wet fur. You survey your surroundings, and seeing nothing. A squirrel? However, you stayed cautious and kept your ears open.

While you were cleaning your teeth, another sound, the noise of a twig snapping under a huge weight. It is closer to you than before.

With no warning, you high-tail it out of there, not even turning to see who it is because you could already tell by that menacing aura alone. The grey wolf is hunting you.

"Go away!" you shout, shooting through bushes and swerving around thick trees. "Go find some dumb rabbit to devour!"

"You're much more intriguing!" Ike calls, and you're startled by how you can't hear his footsteps and yours is loud as shit. "Let's play a game, huh?"

"I don't play no games!" You snap, diving into a fox hole made from another fox and scurrying through the small tunnel. He couldn't get through because he's too large! ha!

"It'll be fun!" He calls from outside the tunnel. "Let's play hide and seek, little one!" Ike sings, and you find it oddly pretty.

Dude, really?

You shoot out the other end and continue sprinting. Fuck out of here with that hide and seek nonsense!

"I'll be the seeker," Ike says from behind, startling so much you almost stumble. "I'll give you some time to hide!"

His voice fades and you glance over your shoulder. Gone. Kapoof. Finally, holy shit, his presence was getting annoying as shit. Wait. Is he actually going to play hide and seek?

You curse in your mind, running as far as your legs could carry. You pause, chest heaving as you breath rapidly through your mouth. You turn in a circle, attempting to find a good hiding spot. You spy a big tree with a hollow center, obscured by a flower bush. It is right by a river too!

You dive into the hole without delay and try to rein in your breathing. You quickly adjust the bush so it didn't look like it was rammed through. It was not long before you felt that ominous presence again, your tail poofing up instantly.

"Little fox, where are you?" Ike coos from a good distance away. You cover your mouth with both hands. "You're a sly thing, huh? Walking around my own territory like it was your place. Now, it's time to make sure you learn your place."

You press yourself against the wall so hard, the grooves start to imprint on your skin. You're starting to regret your decisions. It seems like the wolf will never let you go until he captures you. You silently pray to whatever gods were listening.

Turns out they were not. They said screw you kiddo you're on your own.

"I will find you," Ike promises, his voice a tad closer. "I can feel your heart. So fast. Am I making you nervous?"

You grind your teeth, stopping yourself from growling. This cocky bastard.

"I tend to get that reaction a lot. I didn't think I was that horrifying, being on the smaller scale," Ike says and you roll your eyes because who the fuck asked? "I give off threatening vibes, supposedly. that's what the last one said anyway."

Huh?

"The last prey I had," the wolf continues, almost as if he just read your mind. "You must've seen the lines on the walls. All animals I've killed and perhaps devour. Sometimes, I kill for the fun of it and leave the carcass for other animals. Oh, how thrilling it is, watching the blood seep onto the floor and the life draining out of their eyes!" Ike sighs and your blood goes cold because it's outside your hiding place. A big hand reaches out to touch the flower in front of you. "Their blood, such a pretty shade of red just like this poppy."

The hand snakes out like a viper and snatches your ankle and you yell, kicking at him but he drags you out of the tree. Still kicking and screaming bloody murder, you kick his face in sheer desperation. His head turned toward another direction but his hand still latched onto your ankle.

"That wasn't very polite," Ike says, his gaze on you and you still. "What's wrong? Sad because you lost?"

"No way!" You claw at his hand but he doesn't budge. Just watches your pathetic attempts. "Let go!"

He leans in close to your face and you halt your actions. His breaths on your face as the wolf holds eye contact with you. The flecked color of brown in his eyes are mesmerizing to look at, entrancing. You swallow hard. Ike's hand slides from your ankle to your knee, to your thigh, sending goosebumps across your skin. He squeezes, his nails digging in slightly and you wince.

"No. You're mine to play with now, cute little fox."

Something about the way his voice went lower, or was it the hand movement? made your heart beat faster, and not in a frightened way. The wolf's hand travels to your hip and your breath hitches, still staring into the eyes of your enemy. The hand goes all the up from your arm, feather light, skins your collarbone and finds itself a new home on your neck. Wrapping his fingers around your delicate neck, Ike begins to squeeze lightly. Still looking down at you with those pretty eyes, hovering over you with such a smirk on his lips.

Ike stops squeezing, evidently surprised. He sniffs the air, but still a hand around your throat, his nose dipping lower. His nose bumps against your thigh and he growls low in his throat, yanking your legs apart. You squeak.

Arousal. Pure arousal, glittering in the light. Ike stares for a moment, still sniffing. His gaze slides back up to you and you stop breathing.

"Little fox..." he says quietly, and excitement jolts up. "Are you... aroused, right now?"

You don't respond, a bit ashamed. Why the hell were you getting horny for the man about to kill you? Who in their right mind-?

You gasp as you feel a hot mouth against your pussy, lapping up the juices with a shocking pace. You whine, struggling to get away but both his hands are on your thighs now, keeping you spread open and down on the grass as he ravaged your pretty little hole.

You tasted so fucking good, more than he could ever imagine! His nose bumps your clit as his tongue glides in and out of your wet hole, making squelching noises. You moan loudly, digging your nails into his scalp as you push him into you. Ike growls, sending more electricity up your spine. His teeth grazes your clit as he suckles the bundle of nerves and you gasp.

"Oh fuck fuck fuck- mph!" You cover your mouth, attempting to muffle your embarrassing sounds.

The wolf stops, narrowing his eyes at you. "Who said for you to hide those pretty noises?"

You bite your lip, legs squirming as the breeze hits your pussy. "I-I, well..."

"Keep our hands. Off. If you do so again, I'll make sure you never do it again, do you understand?"

You nod quickly, getting even more aroused by his threat and you subconsciously think, 'what the FUCK' and he smirks.

Ike eats you out like a wolf starved, fucking and teasing your hole with such accuracy you start to see stars, and watching him eat you like you were the best meal he ever had turned you on even more and you felt your walls clamp around his tongue.

"Good slut," Ike whispers against your clit, sucking on it for a brief moment before sinking his teeth into your thigh, making you yelp. "Horny little thing, for a predator who was going to devour you whole..." the wolf chuckles.

Your slick slathered across his face, buried in you, legs over his shoulders was a sight to see. You moan, "a-ah! Mmm, right there, t-there!" Your toes curl, eyes rolled back as the orgasm comes over in waves, making your body shake from pleasure as you release soft whines. But Ike isn't done, he's just getting started.

A finger pushes itself into you and you gasp yet again. It explores your walls, tickling that one spot. Then another is added, and Ike slowly pumps his fingers into you, watching with fascination as your pussy eagerly swallows his digits. Pulling him in.

"What a fucking whore," he notes, flicking his eyes up at your flushed cheeks and the drool leaking down your chin. "I haven't even put my cock in you yet."

Your walls squeeze around his fingers at the sentence and he laughs darkly. He bites your other thigh, drawing blood as you wince in pain. The wolf quickly laps up your blood with a groan. His fingers pump faster, curling at the right time and you moan in a mix of pain and pleasure.

"Greedy bitch. Do you want me to let you cum?" He asks, gold glowing between your legs. New hickeys flourish all over your inner thighs along with obvious bite marks.

"Yes please," you moan, angling your hips up and he repeatedly hits that delicious spot. "Hah- f-fuck! N-ngh! Pleasepleasepleaseplease... "

Ike pulls his fingers out and you immediately protest but he shushes you. The loss of his fingers inside you was making you insane, until you get filled up by something entirely different.

"O-oh... " you moan quietly, his cock hard inside of you.

"Dumb fox." Ike takes your wrists and pins them above your head as he looks down at you. Your breath hitches. "Dumb, horny fox."

He snaps his hips and you make a guttural sound. Ike's pupils are big, drinking in every single detail from your sweat collecting on your skin, your body squirming underneath him, to your mouth popped open slightly. Oh, and those luscious lips of yours, appearing soft and unkissed...

Might as well make you his new toy now, eh?

Ike smashes his lips into yours as he fucks you fast and hard, shoving his tongue inside your mouth as you open to moan. Tongues dancing together and his muscle exploring every single space within your mouth. You tasted so delicious and felt so delicious, there was no way in hell he was letting you go now.

Satisfied with your bruised lips, the wolf goes to mark your neck. Biting, kissing, sucking. Your legs wrapped around his waist as he digs his nails into you. Tears running down your face as you hiccup, crying and saying "it's too much, it's too much'.

Ike could not give a damn. You brought this upon yourself, and now he's going to have fun with his new fucktoy.

[elysiaheaven2]

A Dance with the Devil- Ronin x Trans! Male! Reader!

A Dance with the Devil- Ronin x Trans! Male! Reader!

TW : Blood, gore, Ronin etc!

It wasn’t like you ever wanted to be like Ronin. No, that was too extreme—too chaotic. But the way he played with people, the way he reveled in that gleeful abandon of everything good and holy, it made you want to wade into that madness. Not too deep. Not like him. But... enough. Just enough to feel something raw and real. The world had never offered you that kind of thrill, and maybe, just maybe, Ronin had the answers.

The blood. The violence. The things he did so easily, without a second thought. And you? You sat back. Watched. Fascinated by the carnage, always on the edge of it, never quite in it, yet so ready to spill your guts to earn his twisted approval.

There was a rush that came from it.

You weren’t a killer. Not like Ronin. But the darker side of you... it never really went away. It lingered like a taste of rotten meat you could never quite wash out of your mouth.

"Well, look who decided to show up."

The voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

Ronin leaned against the blood-splattered wall, a smile playing at the corners of his lips. He was already covered in it, his clothes soaked with the aftermath of whatever horror had just occurred in this room. His eyes glinted darkly, full of that familiar malice and amusement.

"Guess I’m not enough of a mess for you yet." He chuckled, flicking a drop of blood off his knuckles as he straightened up, the tall frame of his body looming in the dim light. "Come closer. I don’t bite... unless you want me to."

Your heart skipped a beat, the thrill of his presence sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You had been here before—many times. The same dangerous games, the same terrible temptations, but each time, it felt like you were edging closer to the line.

Ronin always made you feel small, but also... seen. He saw what you were. The part of you that liked the blood and the gore, the visceral reality of it all. He knew it. And he didn’t mind it. If anything, he invited it.

You approached him, unsure whether you were walking into something that would make you stronger or pull you deeper into madness. But you couldn’t stop yourself. You were here for the rush. For the validation. Maybe even the twisted intimacy that came with it.

"You really think you can keep up with me?" Ronin’s voice was soft, teasing. His tone carried an edge, sharp enough to cut but somehow still playful. His gaze bore into you, waiting for you to answer.

You swallowed hard, unsure. But something about this—his presence, his power—stirred that part of you that had always admired the grotesque. The rawness. The beauty in destruction.

"I... I’m not you," you murmured, eyes darting toward the dark corner of the room where the body lay, lifeless and discarded like a forgotten toy.

Ronin’s laugh was like music to your ears—dark and rich with menace. "No shit, genius. You’ll never be me. Not even close." He took a step forward, his body closing the gap between you, and for a moment, you felt his heat, the sheer force of him radiating through the air.

"But you could try," he added, his voice low and seductive.

You were silent, heart thudding in your chest as your eyes flickered to the bloody mess at his feet. You weren’t like him. Not like Ronin, who could cut through flesh and bone with no remorse. But you... you liked the idea of it. The look of it. The way it made you feel alive.

And that’s when you realized.

Ronin wasn’t just a monster to you. He was validation. His attention, his approval, meant something. He was the only one who truly understood. Who saw you for what you were: someone who loved the grotesque, the depraved, not because you were a monster—but because the world had shown you nothing else.

You had never been good at fitting into the neat, well-behaved boxes that society had made for you. As a trans guy, you had already broken free of so much. Why not break free of this, too? Why not embrace the darkness, even if just for a little while?

You stepped closer to the body, then slowly knelt beside it. Ronin’s gaze followed you, amused.

"That’s it. You’re getting it now. You’re in the game," he purred, voice dripping with satisfaction.

Your fingers hovered over the wound. It was still fresh. The blood was warm, a stark contrast to the coldness that had settled deep in your chest. You swallowed again, the sense of disgust rising with the sweetness of the danger, the forbidden thrill of it all.

“I... I want to play,” you said softly. Your voice wavered, but the words came out, and the pressure in your chest loosened. There was no shame in it anymore. Not here. Not with him.

Ronin’s smile widened, a dangerous gleam flashing in his eyes. “That’s my boy.”

He stepped forward, reaching down to help you, but as his hand touched your shoulder, his fingers brushed over the tattoos there, the scars that marked you as someone who had lived, had fought for something. For yourself. You were still you.

And for the first time, that felt like enough.

"You can play," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, as his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you close. His lips brushed against your ear. "But remember—you’ve got to give as much as you take, You think you can handle it?"

You closed your eyes, feeling the weight of it all settle over you like a shroud. This was what you had wanted, wasn’t it? To be seen. To be enough. To stand on the edge with someone who was just as lost as you.

“I can handle it,” you whispered back, your hand gripping the knife as you looked down at the bloodstained body.

The blood was slick on your fingers as you gripped the knife, its cold metal cutting through the air with a razor-sharp promise.

You shouldn’t have been here. Not really. But here you were—staring at the body in front of you, the very thing you once only imagined in the dark recesses of your mind, now laid out in front of you in all its bloody, beautiful grotesque glory. Ronin’s eyes were on you, always on you, like he was watching a predator sizing up its prey. Only he wasn’t after you. Not in the way you thought.

No, he was after something deeper. Something more twisted. He wanted you to fall in love with the gore. To crave it like he did. And you were so close to giving him exactly what he wanted. To play his game, and to spill your rotten guts for him, for that little sliver of validation.

But God—how you craved it. You swallowed hard as your mind raced. The way the blood pooled on the floor. The way the light flickered off the sharp edges of the metal. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound of it deafening.

"You can’t hide from it," Ronin’s voice sliced through your thoughts, so calm, so playful. "You want it, don't you? The thrill. The blood. The way it makes you feel. Like nothing else ever could."

Your breath hitched. You couldn’t hide it anymore. You were aching for it. Your body trembled with it. The brutality, the violence—it called to you like a siren’s song. Every inch of you burned to touch the lifeblood of the world, to stain your hands in it, to be seen by him for it.

Ronin had this way of making you feel so small, and yet—so significant. He made you feel like you mattered, even if only for a moment, even if it was only in this sick little game he played.

"Go ahead, kid," he urged, his words dropping like hot coal on your skin. "You want it. Don’t you? Spill it. Spill your guts, and let me see if you’re worthy of the mess I’m about to make of you."

The knife shook in your grip as you stared down at the body in front of you. You weren’t just doing this for the thrill. You weren’t just doing it for the blood. You were doing it because Ronin was watching. You wanted his approval, his sick little smile that told you you were good enough for him. Even if it was all for a moment. Even if it didn’t last.

And in that moment, you weren’t sure where you ended and the blood began. The knife sliced effortlessly through skin, and you gasped, your pulse quickening as the crimson liquid spilled out like an uncorked bottle of wine.

You had always fantasized about it—about being the one who left their mark, about being drenched in the aftermath of violence, about feeling the rush as it all unfolded. But the reality? The reality was much more intoxicating. Your heart pounded like a drum in your chest, your breaths coming ragged as you slid the blade deeper, following the contours of the body like it was a work of art.

Sadly, You were doing this to a body.

"That’s it," Ronin purred, stepping closer, his boots crunching against the bloodstained floor. "Look at you. You’re perfect for this. You’ll do anything to get this—the rush, the thrill, the release. And all it takes is a little push, huh?"

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words stuck in your throat as you carved through the body, feeling the wetness of it all, the warmth, the slickness of the organs spilling out beneath your fingers. The air smelled metallic, thick with the coppery stench of blood. But more than that—it smelled like power. It tasted like it, too.

Ronin was close now, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "You’re sick,. But I like it. You don’t even realize how much you crave it. You just want me to push you, don’t you? Want me to tell you you’re good enough for this. That you can handle it. But I already know—you love this, and you’ll keep coming back for more."

Your chest tightened. He knew. Of course he knew. He saw through you like glass. Like you were just a puppet, strung up for his amusement. But you didn’t care. You didn’t care about anything else but the feeling of the knife in your hand, the blood on your skin, the way your pulse thrummed with life and death all at once.

"You know you’re mine, right?" Ronin’s words were dark, intimate. His fingers curled around your wrist, guiding you through the motion, urging you to dig deeper, to break through the skin. "You’ll spill your guts for me, just like you’ve always wanted to, and I’ll be there to watch. I’ll always be here to watch."

You nodded, your throat dry, the words unable to form. You were so close to losing yourself in the madness, to fully embracing the part of you that had been hiding in the shadows, waiting for this exact moment. You couldn’t look away from the grotesque beauty of it. The dismembered body. The blood. The warmth.

"I’m not stopping you, kid," Ronin said, his voice low and dripping with satisfaction. "But you better remember—you’re playing my game now. And I’m not the kind of guy to let anyone get away without proving they deserve it."

With a guttural laugh, he pressed closer, his lips grazing your cheek, the coldness of his body a stark contrast to the heat of the blood surrounding you. "This is your only chance. Spill it all. Prove you can keep up. Prove you’re worthy of me."

The words cut deep. But it wasn’t the words that mattered. It was the blood. It was the violence. It was the way you felt alive in a world that had taught you to be numb. And now, with Ronin standing behind you, guiding your hands, you knew—you weren’t just playing the game. You were his.

And you would always spill your guts for him.

[shoyoist]

I’VE BEEN SUMMONED DID I HEAR KARASU?? pls he’s so precious to me 🥺🫶 he’s such a little shit i feel it in my bones. (my fave trope with him is def academic rivals to *wink wonk* more but regardless) you totally have one of those relationships where you just playfully roast each other and purely communicate in jabs. you’d think he actually hates you, but if anyone else talks shit about you he’s quick to brutally cut them down bc “‘m the only one who gets to badmouth you, kay, my sweet little nemesis?” he’d TOTALLY call you shit like that to piss you off i wanna kick him with my mouth. “my precious headache. my loveliest irritation. my most beloved torment.” it’s never your name, only my, my, my and whatever he decided to annoy you with that day. and you’re confused, because you know him in a very specific context due to the nature of your whatever-ship, but you don’t actually know him because you’ve never once had a serious conversation with him ever. and you think it’s time you change that. “if you’re free this weekend, let’s get milkshakes. my treat.” and karasu already has that permanent smirk curving on his mouth. “what’s this, my prettiest groupie? that desperate for company?” “if you keep being an ass i’ll invite someone else on a date.” and for the first time, you’re able to knock that smirk right off his face and render him into a wide-eyed, flustered mess. because he’s like oh. oh. a date. you’re actually serious. and he’s liked you for so long he doesn’t know what to do with himself, or his arms, but he knows he’s blushing profusely and you look all smug, but for once he’ll let it pass because he’s been horrendously and painfully flirting with you for the past year and holy shit you just asked him on a date. he’s a dork underneath all that sass and brains i KNOW HE IS

DIZZY DIZZY DIZZY <3333 guhh you do not know how much i enjoy academic rivals to lovers i eat that shit up so hardd and god with karasu it's even better. when he started calling you things like "my sweetest inconvenience" it started off as a joke. he enjoyed the way your brows knitted together at the sound of his voice, the irritated twist of your lip and he loves when you quip back.

but as it carries on, he realizes that while he's been teasing you through the my, my, my game, he's started to truly desire you for himself. he wants to call you his. you're mine. he wants it. wants it more than anything. imagine a rivals to fwbs plot where after he's realized his feelings, you get heart broken by the person you love, and he makes himself available to you as a vice, to vent out your frustrations on and to help you feel good.

he can handle it, he thinks. he's smart, has control over himself. he'll be fine.

but as he cups your face in his palm, grazing your cheek with his thumb, looking into your tear-filled. discontented eyes as he says, "'m sorry 's how it turned out for ya, my sweet." he stuns himself with the fact that he didnt add any more to it. my sweet.

my sweet what? everything, he thinks later, after you're gone and he's all alone in his bed again. arms crossed behind his head, the sheets bunched up around him smelling of you. you're my sweet everything.

and he wishes so badly for you to feel the same about him. maybe he cant handle it, after all.

[solaneceae]

first days are the hardest

a team bolas oneshot (read on ao3) tw: cannibalism, violence, blood, temporary character deaths (just bolas things)

When they all get off the train, wary and rattled by the ominous images and words streamed into their minds by the strange new entity, everything is red. Like a mist, heavy and thick and clogging up their airways. The train station echoes with dozens of voices, yelling and calling out for silence alike. (Some are singing, which is par for the course, because who could resist belting out the Halo theme song in such an echo-y place?)

They look for a way out, but there isn’t one. They check their inventory, and it’s empty, no backpacks and no warpstone and no weapons or food. They call out for Cucurucho, but no sign of the usually too-present white bear. Then they all freeze, and collective stumble-jolt as images and information flashes behind their eyes. They learn about Purgatory, and about teams, and fear and anxiety clutch at their hearts. Rip each other apart, the entity had said, and already wary glances are being thrown around, the cracks that had been slowly appearing between island residents suddenly growing into chasms.

(They could try to work together, despite what their Host said. They could be lying after all, about the eggs, and the curse. But they all know that until they can gather solid evidence, they will all play along this fucked-up game if it means their children might be returned to them.)

Hearts and minds are numbed, goodbyes exchanged. Bagi hugs Tina so tightly her bones creak, and whispers something into her ear that makes the girl blush furiously. Forever and Cellbit speak in hushed tones, not for long, but part with their eyes gleaming in determination. Bad and Baghera exchange an embrace, the duck giving the demon one last ducky kiss on his nose (which is more of a nip, but Bad giggles and retaliates with a peck on her forehead).

Then they all walk away, because time is running out and they have eggs to save.

***

The red team is. Something, alright.

Jaiden squeals in surprised joy when Foolish, Baghera and Slime all gather before their assigned door, the energy suddenly shifting from bleak and resigned to strangely, unnaturally manic. “Holy shit, the Swellers!” the conure woops, trapping them all in a hug that has them bumping heads. “That’s— okay, best team, best fucking team, we’ve got this.”

“Fuck yeah!” the slime hybrid cheers, way too enthused by all of this (but then again, he doesn’t have a kid on the line, convinced that Flippa is still waiting for him at home. None of the others say anything, because now is not the time for that overdue conversation.) Foolish makes a sound that should not be produced by a living thing’s vocal chords, but that Baghera eagerly mimics as she flaps her arm-wings elatedly.

Cellbit is a bit further away,  scarred arms moving animatedly as he talks to a disgruntled Phil — the crow nods and reflexively reaches behind him for a familiar mass that is no longer there. He keeps swaying forward and catching himself last-second, thrown off-balance by the absence of his usual black backpack, and his wings are exposed and god they’re a mess. Baghera and Jaiden both wince at the sight of clipped, damaged feathers and exposed skin, red and inflamed, an obvious sign of stress-plucking. They look at each other, a silent pact to deal with this later.

“Half our team isn’t even there,” the detective groans, rubbing at his face in barely-suppressed despair. “How is that fucking fair?”

“I mean, I know my way around hardcore shit. And I heard that Carré was pretty good at PvP,” the older man hums, glancing at the Argentinian in the cat onesie. Carré glances back at him at the sound of his name, raises a hand in greeting. “Yo.”

“Yeah, but—” Cellbit makes a low sound, something between a growl and a whine. “Caralho. Not to underestimate you guys, but the green team has Étoiles. Étoiles, and Forever, and fucking Fit from 2b2t. Blue has all the Create geniuses, and Pac, bro, you have no idea how good Pac is at combat, he’ll destroy us. And two weeks of this?” He sighs. “...Hey. Is Wilbur any good at this type of stuff, and is there a chance he’ll show up at all. Be honest.”

Phil grimaces, and that’s all the answers Cellbit needs. “Puta que pariú. That means we’ll be five, tops... six if we get lucky with Carré. We’re so fucked.”

The team immediately settles on the name Bolas?!?!?!, exclamation and interrogation points very much included, and Cellbit looks like he wants to perma-die right there and then. “Right,” he says, flat-toned and dull. “Of course. Fuck it, we ball I guess.”

Two minutes later, Carré’s dislocated body is soaking the coarse dirt of Purgatory with dark red, and they’re all collectively losing their shit. “Open your paragliders you dumbasses!” Foolish screeches over the manic laughter, and that’s the exact moment they all know there’s no way they’re winning this.

They are right. And it only gets worse as the day progresses.

***

The red skies loom over them oppressively, fresh burns and cuts all over their bodies from all the bullshit that has smacked them around for nearly four hours now. Charlie has given up on armors or weapons, hitting a meathead with a single stick as he screeches at it like a bat with rabies. “This isn’t Purgatory!” he screams into his cellphone thingy, his dying voice rattling the brains of the rest of his team, wherever they are. “This is Hell!” He startles and yelps, because he’s spotted a tree in the corner of his eye and thought it was Bad, back again to drive cold metal through his body again. He fucking hates the demon so much right now, even thinking about him makes him want to bash his head against a rock until sweet oblivion takes him away from this nightmare.

“Holy shit, kill yourself!” Jaiden yells out to the skies as yet another curse falls onto them, forcing their limbs to flail and move the way they don’t want them to. It’s not directed at anyone in particular, maybe it’s at herself, maybe it’s at all of them, even she cannot tell. Her eyes are blown wide, soot and dirt in her wings and hair, her limbs tingling with recent respawn. She’s smiling, and Charlie’s smiling, Baghera as well as she sobs before the firepit, rocking back and forth. “Just take my egg,” she giggles, a broken sound. Her eyes flicker with green and purple for a split second, and she feels like she’s losing her mind, grief and rage and despair devolving into pure chaos. “Just take my egg, I don’t care, I don’t care.”

“Holy shit, that’s what we’re at,” Jaiden cackles, barely avoiding getting impaled by another mob. “Kill Pomme!” Cellbit is laughing from the other side of their comms, loud and high-pitched, and Baghera should be mad at him, shouldn’t she? She knows he’s been killing innocent workers, that was still a thing, right? She still cared, right? So why was she laughing? Had they really been broken that badly, that fast? And Philza, Philza who’s been driving himself mad looking for his own eggs, the bastion of their sanity, he’s laughing too, and screeching about some fish attacking him, and god, Carré isn’t responding anymore, he’s fucking dipped, and it’s all gone pear-shaped.

The rest of the day melts into red-grey sludge. They find themselves gathered around a campire and they’re laughing and wailing and sobbing and more laughing, and there’s some singing at some point as their limbs flail in something like dancing. Everything hurts, everything sucks, and it’s somehow so goddamn funny, and everytime they begin to calm down one of them says something so unhinged that they all devolve into hysterics again. Foolish is off building a castle somewhere, eager to start their emerald empire.

Bad kills Slime once, twice, and then he kills Baghera, who feels a part of herself wilt. She understands, though. She cannot stay mad at Bébou, even after that. She knows he’s doing this for their children, and will run over everyone to save them, including her. She’s strangely okay with that. (She hopes she gets to kill him, later. It’s a visceral want, like hunger. It scares her, because she still loves him to death, but she wants to wrap her hands around his neck and watch the life bleed out of his mismatched eyes. He won’t hold it against her, she knows.)

They start to kill each other at some point, tired of being killed by the ones they used to trust. Slime and Cellbit beat the shit out of each other with sticks until the smaller man is downed, and Cellbit finishes him off by ripping out his throat with his very teeth while Jaiden cheers from somewhere at his right. Baghera loses her shit when she learns she’s been grinding for saplings for nothing, and drives a sword through Philza’s back, who just laughs and chokes in his own blood because alright, that’s fair. Jaiden and Slime wrestle in the half finished tower as Foolish hums, placing block after block, unbothered by the conure beating the slime hybrid into the ground until his goopy green body becomes mere jelly. The totem huffs at her, requests that she cleans up the mess as Slime rushes back, fresh from respawn, and snaps the young avian’s neck.

They start walking willingly into the fire, the pain barely registering because their entire self just tingues and aches from laughing nonstop. They burn, and they fall, and respawn with the smell of charred flesh and void-ozone in their nose before climbing into the fire again just to feel something. Their commlinks are buzzing with messages from the other teams, some of them concerned, some of them mocking. None of them care. “We should start a cult,” one of them says, and none of them can remember who because their minds are mingling, fucked-up osmosis. They wonder how hard it would be to craft gas masks for all of them, decide it's an issue to tackle another day.

Jaiden eats the last potato, and they’re all starving to death. Eyes glide over to the pile of charred bodies around the fire, and Cellbit doesn’t remember much from what happens after that. Only the taste of blood and meat of all kinds, human and not. (Part of him knows that Baghera tasted particularly delicious, but he tries his best not to linger on that.) “I think we should all only use our own corpses,” he drawls, pupils mere slits and blood on his chin. The others don’t look much better, and he wonders if this is divine punishment for his sins, seeing people he cares about be dragged onto the same horrible path had been on — was now back on. “I don’t— it’s too much. Too far.”

They all agree. Cellbit never tastes bird meat after that. (And he’s strangely disturbed by the idea of a duck eating meat, let alone duck meat, but he’s so fucking done.)

“I could not ask for a better group of people to be stuck in this shit with,” Philza breathes out as night falls, sprawled onto his back on top of Foolish’s tower with his wings dirty and blood-soaked. Étoiles killed him earlier, and that’s kinda fucked, but he still trusts the man with his life. And his death. The others all acquiesce around him, every single one staring up at stars and constellations that don’t look right, eyes too shiny and smiles too wide, and they know that something in their brain chemistry has irrevocably changed.

This cursed place has no sheep, which means no wool, which means no beds. So when exhaustion crashes into them like a freight train, they forego all sense of personal boundaries and crawl into each other’s arms on top of their little tower of despair, in one fucked up pile of aching limbs and blood-soaked clothes.

Tomorrow will be another day. But they all know nothing will ever be the same after this.

[krash-and-co]

holy SHIT this has been in my drafts forever but hey better (extremely) late than never. I meant to add holly and kipps to this but never finished lol

here's my thoughts.

there are a lot of them.

LUCY: although all of them could technically be, Lucy is definitely a Hades kid. besides her very strong Talent in the canon universe, which could easily make me think of her as a Hades demigod, her personality fits pretty well for one of his kids too.

she's one of the only kids in her cabin, (when not she's inviting George, Lockwood, Kipps, and Holly in as a little private hangout space) so she often summons the dead to talk to when in need of immediate assistance or when she's simply bored. although there are some exceptions where she just chooses a random soul, most times she summons who she calls Skull. she won't say it, but she likes him around, and sometimes she even lets him stay awhile and doesn't make him go back to his wonderful job of eternally digging up bones in the Field of Punishment.

he also often gets summoned by accident when she's angry or feeling other intense emotions, along with many other souls. this happens about as much as you'd think, knowing Lucy.

sometimes she just gets the help of the undead for games. it's not cheating, she's using her demigod abilities! at least, that's her argument every time she's caught.

GEORGE: is this even a question? Athena. he fits in pretty well with his cabin, EXCEPT for the fact that he's incredibly messy when they are incredibly neat and organized. he drives his siblings absolutely insane with this. (he may or may not make it worse some times just to mess with them.)

Also their obsession with schedule and routine is hell.

In short, Holly would love them.

he spends most of his time researching, learning, reading, and things of that type. he hates camp games. well, he hates being a player in the games. he loves strategizing how to win them and helping his cabin think of plans, but actually being in the games? no thanks. only if he particularly enjoys it or his best friends (*cough* guess who) are doing it with him.

or they make him.

He really enjoys observing other campers abilities, Lucy's especially. The zombies and skeletons and ghosts she seems to just break out of the ground have been fascinating him since they met. he's done a ton of reasearch on it, which Lucy finds pointless since it's literally just her ability as a Hades child. he doesn't care; he finds the underworld and undead fascinating.

even though it's probably not something a non Hades kid should go so deep into.

he would, as well as reasearching, ask questions about her ability all the time. it used to annoy her a lot and they'd fight, but as their friendship grew stronger she didn't mind as much. he also started trying to get info from Skull, whom Lucy had to prevent from killing George on multiple occasions.

he still asks her some questions, although he's kind of cooled down a bit and does most reasearch on Hades in private.

he probably wishes he were a Hades kid.

LOCKWOOD: okay here we go. I thought about this way too much, just fyi.

everybody thought he was an Aphrodite kid. like, literally everybody. how else does the smile work so well? and how can he talk people into things so easily? it must be a godly ability. and he's pretty too, so like??? just claim him already Aphrodite, we all know he's your son anyway.

well she doesn't.

cuz he's not.

you know who does? ares. he's a freaking ARES KID and everyone is in shock. they can later see how this is, considering his incredible sword fighting skills, crazy amount of bravery, and random bursts of anger (and impulsiveness of course) but STILL, they'd never have guessed until getting to know him.

He seemed at first to be their opposite. he's the scrawniest Ares kid by far, he's very elegant and well dressed, he's most often polite (unless you get him angry, as we know), he's actually good looking unlike most children of ares, and he's overall not a screaming mess every five seconds. he usually waits till at least ten.

you can often find lockwood sitting in his cabin peacefully reading a book while the rest of his siblings throw things at each other that are probably on fire.

but not always. equally often, there are the times where he either joins or creates the chaos, and he always somehow winds up directing the entire cabin. then all the other demigods are confused again. they're like, "this skinny pretty boy in a trenchcoat is leading the entire Ares cabin in a capture the flag MOB. this is FAKE" right before getting their armor impaled by said pretty boy

so basically he's either the opposite of his cabin: calm, collected, and gentle, or an angry disaster that has a 30 second straight random outburst before running off to stab at the training dummies. and when that happens you're like "ahhh there's the stereotypical ares"

but if you tease him for this when he's mad you'll be the training dummy. only half kidding.

also flo the satyr is amazing. 100% yes yes yes

also lockwood was rescued and brought to camp when his sister was killed by a monster, his mom died in a car crash because Aphrodite pitched a fit and he believed his dad was dead too, George literally got up and followed flo out one day, Lucy ran away and also believed her father was hit by a train like in book canon I may write some of this

What if lockwood and co gang demigods. Right? Or like lockwod and co au where it's Percy Jackson.

The skull was an Apollo kid, I'd have picked Dionysus but nah. Hermes. He seems like the type. He just got in good with like a Hades kid or Hades himself now is this mess of a ghost.

Lockwood is Athena I feel, he's very strategic with his battles and planning. Dunno feels like an Athena child

Now. Lucy is either Ares or Hades. Hades would explain why the Skull is following her sort of deal but I dunno locklyle where it's Athena and ares children is quite funny to me. She has the anger but also she has the gift of listening with the dead so Hades would work more really.

George is probably a minor god child, stuck in the Hermes cabin. They'd think he'd b Athena with his research but was never claimed. He's very good at figuring out where monsters are especially when his friend Flo, a Satyr (I dunno found it funny this scruffy goat woman picking up demi god's and kicking ass), helps figure it out.

Barnes I like to think is like Dionysus just there as a punishment but he's like a grumpy Chiron, a proper dad but is so done with it all.

Kipps probably a Aphrodite child who kicks absolute ass and looks fab while doing it.

Holly I would put as Aphrodite but I like to think is also an unclaimed child which makes Aphrodite lot but jealous. Or maybe even Apollo for healing like she's the best healer, be funny with the skulls hatred of her, but maybe even older tha that and is just medicine. But overall unclaimed.

I dunno rushed little thoughts to comfort myself gimme yo opinions and stuff I'm intrigued what you think.

[wallflowerimagines]

I love your writing so much, it's very great! Anyways, can you make one with the lords with a s/o who can see ghosts, but everytime they see one they tensed up ? Thanks alot! <3 <3 <3

In a horror game???? With a horror villain s/o?????

Anon, you are so brave 😔✊ let's get spooky.

Alcina Dimitrescu

There are SO many ghosts in Castle Dimitrescu. And they're all so LOUD.

The majority seem to be victims of House Dimitrescu. All of them drift through the air, drained and skeletal, eyes sightless, and they just wail non stop. The wailing itself is actually kind of a lower volume, but because there are so many ghosts around, the sound layers and echoes through the space until you can barely hear yourself think.

They remind you of jellyfish in a way. They just aimlessly drift through the air, clothes billowing around them, sliding through the walls. Constantly screaming.

You actually prefer the ghosts of the victims of the Cadou experiments. They might be horrible, shuffling abominations of flesh and oozing blood, but at least they're quiet.

Alcina notices you flinch without any kind of visible stimulus, and immediately gets suspicious. She pulls you into a room and demands an explanation of your behavior.

If there is a problem, she's going to fix it.

When you tell her about the ghosts, her lips press into a fine line. You mean to tell her that these worthless wastes of space are crowding her halls, polluting her home even after their death?

They dare to not only crowd the noble house of Dimitrescu under her nose for years, but they're bothering you while they do it?

Yeah, Alcina is Furious.

She gets a couple exorcists on Retainer. Every month or so, priests of various religions are paraded through the house and cleanse the place from top to bottom. She has you follow them around and check their work, too. If any of them happen to be charlatans, they'll just join the horde of ghosts. No skin off her nose.

It is a little annoying that she has to hire even more people to clean up the mess in her Castle, but Alcina is a highborn lady. Any kind of clutter (living or dead) is unacceptable. Her home should be pristine.

Besides, her favorite reward is seeing you fall asleep in her arms, entirely peaceful. You had been so obviously stressed by the situation. It's such a relief to have you relaxed and calm once again.

Donna Beneviento

When Donna finds out you can see ghosts, she gets a bit ...manic.

This is a woman who lost her entire family, and is unable to deal with grief in a healthy way. She's constantly in mourning garb, and her veil rarely comes off. Hell, her grief was the catalyst for her current hobby-- which is what turned it into a hyperfixation.

I'm not going to lie to you, this revelation puts your relationship on pause. She's going to use you to get what she wants, and she wants her family back.

Donna pulls out all the family photo albums and portraits. She coaches you on her mother's laugh, her father's focused expression. She gets the projector and plays you home movies to show you how they walk and talk. Anything she can show you to help identify the ghosts of her family, she does it.

If you tense up, Donna gets so excited. Is it someone she knew? Her sister, maybe?

Unfortunately, most of the ghosts around are Donna's victims. They huddle in the corners of her home, rocking back and forth in terror, clawing at the walls in a futile attempt to escape whatever horror they've been eternally trapped in.

Sometimes, at night, you hear soft whimpers and scratches at your door...

If there is a ghost that isn't a member of her family around, Donna gets frustrated with it. She will banish any ghost that isn't a member of her family, or a member of the previous staff that could help them in the afterlife.

Eventually you need to sit her down and have a serious conversation with her. You're not something she can use to connect to her family. You might be willing to help, but all she's done lately is treat you like an object, not a partner. It has to stop.

It's the wake up call Donna needs. You both hold each other and cry for a long time, because the last thing she ever wanted to do is hurt you, but... She misses them. So much.

You still look for their ghosts for her, still tense in the hallway, but Donna stops asking you to describe them to her. She trusts you to tell her if they look familiar now. She can be patient.

Salvatore Moreau

Fish man might have been a doctor once, but he is a Small Town Doctor from a small fishing Hamlet. I don't care how much "logic" and "reason" you might think he has. This man is SUPER-fucking-STICIOUS.

Salt over your shoulder, four leaf clover carrying, fear of curse having man DOES NOT LIKE the idea of being haunted.

The ghosts of the reservoir are extra spooky too. Some of them are mid-mutation from the failed Cadou experiments...But the drowning victims are more common.

There aren't many ghosts around, but when they do appear, they're bloated, skin slipping off their bones, clothes dissolving around them as they glide through the air. They move much slower than other ghosts too, like the fact that they died in the water has permanently trapped them in that state.

If you tense up out of nowhere, Moreau does too.

What did you see?? Are they close?? Do they look bound to an object??

Salvatore will turn into his giant fish form and yeet anything that you might feel to be haunted over the mountain range. He takes no chances with that shit.

You two both are regular customers of the Duke's specifically for new exorcism methods. The Duke doesn't scam you guys either-- he provides candles, scriptures, holy water, perfumes, all of it works to keep the spirits at bay.

You and Moreau will walk around the reservoir, on guard for any hauntings, and clean up any area that might possibly have a ghost attached to it. It's a incredibly weird and very niche bonding experience.

By the end of the day, the reservoir is the least haunted place in the whole Village. Just how you and Salvatore like it.

Karl Heisenberg

Eat my ass, spirits

Heisenberg is not afraid of ghosts. He actually makes fun of you a little bit for even believing in them, until he sees you tense up out of the blue.

He trusts you enough to know you're not lying to him, so he knows that you are seeing something. He just doesn't know if they're really ghosts.

There aren't as many ghosts in the factory as there are at the Castle, but there is still quite a few.

A lot of them are missing limbs, unsurprisingly. They gasp and scramble around, eyes (if they are even there) bulging out of rotting faces as they scan the surrounding area for their missing pieces. They scuttle around like spiders up and through the walls, poking their heads into random rooms and constantly searching for something, anything to make them whole.

The worst thing about them is that they ALL scream when they see Heisenberg. It's not even a wail like from a normal ghost-- this is a full on shriek of rage and grief. They know who he is. They know what he's done. And they can't do anything about it.

Is it any wonder that you tense up all the time?

After you describe the ghosts in more detail to your partner, Heisenberg sets his jaw, gets pissed, and finds a way to exorcise the lot of them. While he can't see them, you can, and they might make you think less of him. He can't have that.

Plus, they're obviously bothering you. Karl does not tolerate some dumb spirits harassing his partner. If he has to nail a couple crucifixes to the wall and get a spray bottle of holy water, he will.

He also sees if he can kill his victims in an isolated section of the factory. Maybe having one specific room might limit the range on these things? It also makes for easier clean up.

[64-jungle-planks]

Back in Black (and White)

Howdy guys! Sorry this is a bit short and half a rewrite of the intro basement archives scene! I got back into Studio Ghibli films, especially The Secret World of Arrietty and Howls Moving Castle! I'm probably going to redraw some scenes from those films with NATM 2 characters (and a few of my own) soon, so be on the lookout for that!

I hope you enjoy! I don't have a proofreader anymore so I am sorry if there's any spelling mistakes, or any mess-ups in grammar, or anything else! This is mostly themed around Frank and Ralph Capone and has a bit of @lidensword's oc, Étienne in it!

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

“Holy Shit, Frank? You’re alive?” 

Frank Capone shook the glass bits off of his shoulders after busting through the glass that surrounded him. Looking around, he saw his brothers—Al and Ralph Capone, His cousin Francesco “Frank” Nitti, and his good friend and old boss, Johnny Torrio. Things were off though, Ralph and Al looked a little older than he remembered, they weren’t outside the Western Electric plant either, and, the thing that Frank thought the most out of place was, they were all black and white. They were all staring in disbelief at him, almost like he just said something that insulted their mother. 

“What do you mean, Al? Ralphie, mph-!” Frank started to ask, but was quickly cut off when his older brother barreled into him, giving him a bone-crushing hug.

“Jesus Christ, Frank, it’s so fuckin’ good to see you alive again!” Ralph said, letting him go from the hug and putting his hands on Frank’s shoulders. 

“Yeah, you too, Ralph. Wait-the fucks you mean ‘alive again’ n’ why are we all black n’ white like the sliva screens?” Frank asked, pushing Ralph away to look at his younger brother and his cousin. 

“We'r still tryin’ to figure dat out ourselves, Frank,” Al stated, scratching the back of his neck. “And, you died. You died April 1st, 1924, at the plant from ‘em stool-pigeons while we were gettin’ people to vote for Klenha,” Al paused, putting down the briefcase he was holding and wiping his eyes with his thumb.

“Gah, they filled you with lead even before you could bring out your gat. They took yous down right in front o’ me n’ I couldn’t do anything about it,” Al said, slurring his words together the way he would when he got angry and clenching his fists. 

Frank felt like the wind was knocked right out of him… he died?! There? Then? Why? If I could kill those asses, I would, Frank swore in his head. 

“We stopped everythin’ for yous after yous died, Frank. The family missed you so much, I’m glad to see yous alive again,” Ralph said with a slight smile, trying to lighten up the mood. 

“We’re glad to see yous again, brother,” Al started to smile too, coming over to pat him on the shoulder. 

“We are too! We can finally get that dinner you promised me after that game at the lodge.” Nitti said, patting Torrio on the shoulder. Torrio nodded in agreement, pocketing his hands. That made Frank smile and chuckle a bit.

“Alright boys, let's see if we can find someone who can give us some answers,” Al said with a grin, clapping his hands together and picking up his briefcase. 

Torrio grabbed some liquor bottles that were at the base of their glass prison, passing to the others as they started to walk towards the main part of the building they were in, towards a stone gate looking thing. Frank popped open his as he followed behind everyone else, with Ralph’s arm around his shoulders.

“I’m glad to hav’ yous back, bro,'' Ralph whispered to him, taking a swig from his own bottle. Frank shoved him and smiled. 

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

Napoleon Bonaparte, a French military leader and the first French emperor, pointed at Kahmunrah, an Egyptian king thrown from power, angrily. Kahmunrah put his hands up in defense, which made Napoleon back down. 

“Yeah, is there goin’ to be killin’ involved? ‘Cause I’m really good at the killin’,” Al said with a snide grin. “It’s kinda my niche.” 

“You never get no talk back from no corpse,” Frank said, curling his lip up in anger. Ralph turned to him, blinking in shock, and then smiled. Nitti patted him on the back. 

“I think that’s nieesh,” Ivan the Terrible said, making Frank’s younger brother look over at him angrily.

“Nich,” Al hissed back, making Ralph snicker. He was quickly bumped in the side by Torrio before Al noticed it. 

“D-duly noted,” Kahmunrah stuttered to Al, nodding his head and tapping his fingers together. 

The Russian tsar rolled his eyes and looked back at Kahmunrah, taking a few steps forward, “If we are talking about world domination, then of course I’m interested. But first I want to clarify something, so you know where we are all in business, hmm?” Ivan paused and raised an eyebrow, and Kahmunrah gestured for him to continue. 

About then, Frank started to zone out and look around at the Frenchies and the Russians that stood behind Napoleon Bonaparte and Ivan the Terrible. Some of the French soldiers were still dusting the packing hay off of themselves. A Frenchman with short blond hair and a mustache seemed also to be bored, for he, too, started to look around at the other interesting people around him. Frank nodded to him and then tilted his head towards Kahmunrah and widened his eyes, as if to say ‘jeez, take a look at this bozo’. The Frenchman looked back at him quizzically, making Frank sigh and roll his eyes. 

Looking over to his older brother, Frank could see that Ralph was having a bit of fun. Ralph wasn’t taking the leaders seriously either, a laughing smile plastered onto his face as he looked back and forth between whoever Kahmunrah was talking to, as if he was watching a tennis match. Since they both left school around middle school to work for money to pay the bills, Ralph and Frank both didn’t know much about the French general and the Russian Tsar, and nothing about the Egyptian ruler, just that they were somewhat important people, not from their time though. 

Ivan started to list great things that he did, making Al bow his head in boredom, that made Frank tune back into the conversation. 

“Duly noted,” Kahmunrah said again, this time to Ivan once he was done. “Now I would like to wrap up the old meet and greet by asking you gentlemen a question; Are you with me?!”

Al looked back to the group, mostly looking at Torrio for guidance. Torrio thought for a moment and then nodded. This is going to be fun, Frank thought with a grin, nodding too. The only person in the group who didn’t seem entirely on board was Nitti, who already was nervous because of how many people were in the tightly packed alleyway created by boxes around them. 

Looking back and shrugging, Al answered with the other two leaders.

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.”

“Oui.”

“Da.”

“Then bring Larry Daley of Daley Devices and the Golden Tablet of Ahkmenrah to me!” Kahmunrah said with a determined look on his face. 

[steviespanties]

steve doesn’t even realize how gross he is until he gets together with billy. then one day he’s playing basketball at the park with billy before they head back to his house. and steve’s sucking on billy’s neck, trying to get his shirt off. and billy’s like “one second baby, lemme grab a shower so i’m not all sweaty.” and steve’s like “wait, no, you smell really good. pls let me suck ur dick right now, i wanna taste it”

Steve gets so horny for Billy drenched in sweat. It’s not so bad in the moments they play against each other, because all his attention is focused on holding up against Billy’s relentless stamina.

In school, he used to think he was a pretty good player. Going against Billy, he soon realized that he was just the tallest and fastest in his team with good reflexes. But Billy has been a challenge from day one and remains so even now, out of school and simply visiting the park near Steve’s house for a friendly one-on-one.

They’re both soaked. Steve can feel the sweat roll down his back and watches mesmerized how the sun reflects off of Billy’s own wet skin, tank top long since thrown to the side. Billy, viciously competitive and lost in the game, drives a fast pace across the court. Taunts Steve with playful “Don’t be such a bitch, Harrington” thrown his way, making him flush a little from humiliation when he stumbles. 

It’s fun. It also leaves Steve desperately trying to keep his dick from perking up, especially when Billy bumps into his shoulder on the way home, wraps a sticky arm around Steve like he thinks he’s being mean when all it does is make Steve painfully aware of all the places they’re pressed together. He inhales and gets a strong whiff of Billy. No products, no perfume left to subdue the scent. Steve’s mouth waters.

He loses the fight against his dick right as they bust through his front door. The moment it falls closed, Steve turns in Billy’s grip and crowds into his spaces. Kisses him hard. Swallows Billy’s moan to suck on his tongue. Basks in the slip and slide of their skin, still tacky with sweat. Strong arms wrap around him and draw him even closer in an almost bruising grip. 

Their hips meet. Push their dicks together with drawn out pressure until they’re both hard and panting. Steve can’t get enough of the salty taste on Billy’s lips. His neck. His chest and belly.

He kisses and licks, listens to Billy’s appreciative groans as he works his way down, to the big prize tenting Billy’s shorts. He sinks to his knees, tugs down Billy’s waistband and almost gets hit in the face by his flushed erection.

A hand lands in his hair, digs deep to his roots and tugs. Makes his scalp prickle with that perfect ache that makes Steve moan and his dick twitch hard against the confines of his own shorts. Billy holds him in place and angles his face up. “Let me catch a shower first,” he says. 

It doesn’t come as a surprise. Billy doesn’t shy away from getting filthy, doesn’t mind dirt caked on his skin, beer soaked chest and come, splattered hands. But he always cleans up.

So Steve, to both of their surprise, plants his own hands on Billy’s thighs and pushes him to lean against the door. Says “I don’t want you to” and looks up under hooded eyes to watch Billy’s pupils dilate and an eager, excited flush spread over his face. The fingers in his hair tighten. Push him forward.

He takes the silent approval and runs with it. Runs his tongue along the vein at the side of Billy’s dick. Swirls around the tip. Groans at that salty taste. Wanders down again, further than before until he reaches Billy’s balls and slowly, carefully envelops them with light suction. He can feel Billy’s dick resting against his face, can feel the kick it does when he hums around him.

“Holy shit, Steve,” comes from above him. Billy already sounds wrecked.

He pops off a moment later, but not without a final, drawn out drag ow his tongue that wanders right back up. Billy’s scent surrounds him. Earthy and a little musty, the clean-dirty headiness of a good workout pouring off of Billy and right into Steve’s nose. Right into his mouth as he swallows Billy’s dick. Sucks him down like he’s in a trance, knees aching, his own dick leaking precome and making the drag of his head almost painful against soaked fabric.

It doesn’t matter when all his focus is on the perfect salty taste on his tongue and the slick-hot drag of Billy inching down his throat. Steve can’t tell if he’s pushing forward or Billy is dragging him down. Doesn’t care when he feels Billy’s thighs flex underneath his hands. When his nose lands in wiry pubes and he gets an especially deep inhale that makes his head spin.

They both moan. Billy unrestrained, Steve muffled.

“Fffuck, ah!” Billy sounds almost drunk. Snaps his hips forward, like he’s trying to bury himself even deeper. Steve closes his eyes. Swallows around the length pushing into his throat, making him spill drool down his chin and onto his shirt.  “Gonna give it to you so good,” Billy slurs, his voice a deep honey trickle down Steve’s chest and pooling warm in his belly. “Wanna eat you out and make pant and moan just like you did running after that ball.” There’s a smugness to it. Steve doesn’t mind. Billy’s competitiveness can be a lot. But goddamn can it be fun, too.

He drags himself off. Keeps just Billy’s head inside, tongue pressed to it firmly. Inhales. Sinks back down and feels Billy’s hands tighten in his hair, over and over again as Steve sets a slow rhythm that works Billy closer and closer to the edge.

Billy tumbles over it with a gasp. Spills thick come in Steve’s mouth, halfway down his throat and onto his tongue as he pulls out. His body shudders under Steve’s hands. Keeps Steve from toppling over, reduced to a shivering, whimpering mess himself. He’s close. So damn close he feels like anything could make him spill over.

All it takes is Billy sinking to the ground. Sinking right on top of him with all of his post-orgasmic, blissed out weight. His sticky, sweaty skin pressing Steve to the ground, covering him up. Billy tugs down his shorts. Pushes a thick thigh up and right between his legs where he’s soaked in precome, balls drawn up.  It’s the pressure. The scent. The tongue in Steve’s mouth, Billy tasting himself.

He comes in long spurts between them. Rides the pleasure into oblivion as he groans and pants and gets lost in a bone deep feeling of safety and contentment.

[liquid-luck-00]

Truth / Lies

Bio!Dad Bruce

Bio!Dad Masterlist ~~~ Ao3 ~~~ First ~~~ Previous ~~~~~~~~~~

Marinette slipped out of the apartment early the next morning. She ran through the city, the early morning air stung her skin, waking her up more with each step.

Last night was a whirlwind and she didn't let herself think about it. But now she was.

Three months, almost four.

She has only known she was a Wayne for four months.

If this had happened sooner. She shuddered at the thought, yet it still flitted across her mind. She would have married her brother had this happened sooner.

Would she have recognized Damian from the 10 seconds she spent looking at his photo that day. No, she wouldn't and that thought terrified her. If it happened before then, she wouldn't even know she had a brother.

Would Bruce have recognized her, maybe, but then again that was assuming he knew what she looked like. And knowing what and how this happened, they wouldn’t have even met until after the fact.

She didn't even realize she had made her regular circuit until she was back in front of their apartment building. She opened the door and made her way up.

Hopefully Tim was gone, and they wouldn't need to explain last night.

She opened the door and there was not only Tim, but also Dick, Jason, and Bruce. At the table was a statuesque Damian.

"How much did they get out of you?" She tentatively asked.

"They threatened to call Manhunter." Was his answer.

Okay they know nothing, but oh no, oh no, oh no. She sat next to Damian turning into statue number two.

"Mini, the two of you disappeared last night what happened." Dad tried to stay calm, but his patience must have been tested by Sol already.

"Two truths, one lie." She side eyed Damian.

"We were in Nanda Parbat." Damian started.

"We avoided one mind numbing wedding." Marinette continued.

"The order has a larger moral back-bone than the league."

"You two aren't seriously playing this game to stall, are you?!" Tim seemed close to a mental breakdown. Then again, he hasn't slept in a week, so them disappearing may be the straw that broke him.

"Nanda Parbat and the league are tied so 1 and 3 are true." Jason figured.

"I would agree if this wasn't the second time, they said they avoided a wedding." Tim sighed.

"But it doesn't add into any of the others." Dick added.

"This morning their excuse was they were avoiding a wedding." Tim supplied.

"The truths are 1 and 2." Dad spoke definitely.

"Care to fill in the rest of the class B." Jason scoffed.

"Mini looks down for a fraction of a second when she lies, and she didn't when she said 2. Leaving 1 or 3 as the lie. Damian doesn't have a tick but using what he said 1 is true." He explained.

"There is no way for them to make that round trip in such a short time." Dick thought aloud. "Unless the order is filled with magic users. Meaning it is possible. And kidnapping kids could count as a lower moral backbone."

"Okay, so you're right, but kidnapping isn't the reason the League has a larger moral compass." Marinette assured.

"Do we want to know why the League of fucking Assassins has a larger moral backbone than an order of supposedly good magicians?" Jay was the one to speak the question on everyone's mind.

"Well if not saying or attempting to stop marrying two underage people is any indication." Damian scoffed.

"I honestly think it was their idea in the first place." Marinette mused aloud.

"Please for the love of god tell me you two weren't the ones getting married." Tim finally put it together.

"We avoided one hell of a headache inducing wedding. What do you think." She confirmed exasperated.

In a second (4) Errors could be seen on the faces of their family.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" Dad was the first to recover, but his voice was eerily level, scarier than his even tone as Batman.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Neither of them put up a fight, doing exactly as they were told. Not 20 seconds later all six of them were back in the middle of the League of Assassins following a clearly pissed off Bruce Wayne.

Thank kwamii that everyone else seem to know exactly where they were going in this compound because she sure didn’t. She walked right next to Damian the entire time and they were both watching their fathers back.

Twist and turns one after another and they finally came to what she can only describe as a throne room. When she saw the piece of shit that is Damian's maternal grandfather once again.

"Ra's." Was all her father stated. It is no exaggeration when she says that the color drained from that man’s face. She apparently wasn’t the only one contemplating exactly what had gone down last night. And the inevitable reaction of her family. What she failed to notice however, but her father didn’t was next to him was the same monk, still there. "Name." He ordered.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce growled in that instant she stopped breathing.

"Holy shit did Bruce just..." Jason stage whispered to Dick. However, she still couldn’t breathe and just watched the exchange. If she didn’t know her father’s rule to not kill, she would think he would be about to kill both Ra's and Su-Han, but she did know that rule. She’s pretty sure her father my break it though.

---

Bruce immediately was in a state of shock.

As Batman he had contingencies and plans in place for everything and anything. But this, this never was a probable scenario ever.

Once his shock faded, he saw red, he was absolutely livid. Children, his children, were almost married, for what. A feud that neither knew even existed.

"Mini how long will it take to get to the league with Kaalki?" His voice was dead even, attempting and failing to keep his anger in check. Thank God Hawkmoth was no more.

"Instantaneously, but someone who knows it better should be the one opening the portal." She responded quickly.

"Give the glasses to your brother. Damian open a portal."

Mini handed Damian the glasses, who immediately opened a portal. He walked through with his kids in tow, but he did not stray from his warpath. He found Ra's and another man, who wore the symbol on Mari's box.

"Ra's." Was all he said, knowing he had the man's attention the moment he entered. He showed no attempt to be bored. or uninterested. In fact, if it didn't seem impossible, Bruce would go so far as to say he was scared. He then looked over at the second man. "Name." He spoke again.

"Su-Han." He still spoke with dignity, but fear crept into his voice and stance.

"What the fuck did you try to do to my kids." Bruce demanded.

"It is not like you to visit." Ra's seemed to dance around his question.

"Why my kids?!" His voice rose and patience dwindled. So much so he didn't notice his two youngest slipped out of the room. While the older three seemed to be eating cookies and pastries, watching the show.

"Them being related was an unforeseen factor." Su-Han answered. "For there to be peace the two organizations needed to be unified."

"And both of you rubbed your cumulative two brain cells together and thought marrying two kids together is a valid response."

It was Ra's turn to speak. "Both of your children happen to be the next in line to command both respective organizations. Marriage was simply a contract between the two individual organizations to maintain peace. Although that failed to occur."

"Why did marriage come before I don't know, a god damn Peace treaty." He stopped to breathe.

"Given our history." Su-Han tried to make a point, but he didn't let him.

"You want history, I hear they have been around since the time of the Ancient Egyptians and the Ancient Babylonian Empires."

Both men stood there seemingly trying to formulate any response that could work. “Marriage was the most reliable method to promote unity between the two.”

"Bullshit, you both wanted something quick and easy." An explosion was heard in the compound, sending Ra's into a fighting stance. "You both wanted to make it their responsibility to keep the peace. And when it would fail you would use it as an excuse to return to fighting one another."

A full minute of pure silence when no one so much as moved drawled on. Until the doors opened, and in walked his children, as a fox and a horse with two Kwamii in front of them.

"Are you two the ones responsible for the explosion?"

They looked at one another, then back at him. Damian was the one who answered. "Yes."

"What did you four do?" He asked, although he only did so more out of obligation than curiosity.

"We may have destroyed all the Pools of Miracles." Tikki flew forward and answered.

"You destroyed the Lazarus Pits / Pools!" Was shouted by Ra's and Su-Han.

"Yes, so it's magic cannot be further twisted." Mari stood firm.

"And for the monks to stop using it to extend their lives." Damian added.

"Can I spite them now?" A cat Kwamii he never met before asked him.

"I should be more disappointed, but I'm not." He sighed. "Go on ahead."

"Pigtails your family is the best." The cat cheered. "Now for you two."

The best way to explain what he did was that he phased through each of their hearts and floated on back. The entire time he were a grin that rivaled the cheshire cat.

"Plagg, what did you do?" Tikki tentatively asked.

"What's the fun in telling you now. Plagg cackled. With that they all left, back to Paris. Never mess with his kids, because one they can God damn take care of themselves and two, he may not kill but he will supervise if even one of them is hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~ Taglist: @mochinek0 @justafanwarrior @abrx2002 @ranger-gothamite @fantasiame @moonystars14 @mochegato @bigbeautifulandfullofsugar @maribat-is-lifeblood @iglowinggemma28 @miraculous-ninja @talutah0 @vixen-uchiha @danielslilangel @witchsblackfox @pawsitivelymiraculous @lizziejay @marinettepotterandplagg @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @dast218 @sassakitty @miyla-lokidottir @lilkymilky @tazanna-blythe @tired-butterfly @lozzybowe @smolplantmum @queencommonsense @loopingtangent @chez-pezeater @paintedhope7 @technicallyburninggarden @meme991001 @wannajointhecrabcult @melicmusicmagic @trippingovermyfeet @greatcatblaze @fidget-eep @miraculouslydumb @iamablinkmarvelarmy @laurcad123 @hauntedwintersweets @fc-studios @fusser90 @madking-warqueen @buginetye @little-lady-bird @thebooki3h @iamabrownfox @galla02006 @syrencall @gimpedmercy

[carelessannie]

the five times steve gives bad dating advice, and the one time it actually works

Or, the Starker Shifter and College AU no one asked for

Link to AO3 Main pairings: Tony x Peter, (background) Steve x Bucky Word count: 5.6k Major Warnings: smut (not shifted), everyone’s a complete idiot, discussion of canine and feline mating behavior, excessive cursing Aaaaannnnnddddd I’ll tag @the-mad-starker because I said I would and I really hope you enjoy it bb

---

The door slams, startling Steve out of his afternoon nap. Peter must be home. He’s pretty sure Sam said he was gonna be out until the evening, and the stomping, slamming of cabinets, and various clanging dishware are usual signs of Peter’s afternoon fury.

Steve shakes out his coat, rolling his eyes as he stretches in the sun— his roommate is a damn idiot.

He doesn’t even bother shifting as Peter storms in the room, throwing his backpack to the ground and perching on the nearby armchair. He’s learned by now that when Peter wants to talk, Steve doesn’t need to speak. In fact, his friend probably prefers it that way.

So instead, he lets Peter brew, slamming his fingers onto the keys on his laptop, and viciously eating apple slices and… nutella. Oh. One of those days.

They only bring the nutella out on bad days.

Steve throws him a bone— metaphorically— and opens an eye, making an inquisitive noise deep in his throat.

Peter looks up, his delicate features squished together in an angry pout.

“First of all, your boyfriend’s an idiot.”

Offended, Steve bares his teeth and squints his eyes, sending Peter a menacing snarl that the smaller man waves off. His boyfriend is an idiot, but Peter has no business noticing that.

“I’m right and you know it,” Peter sniffs, turning his nose and inspecting his nails, “and his roommate is the absolute worst. And I’m not talking about Clint.”

There it is. Steve chuffs, feigning indifference. If he waits long enough, Peter will tell him more. So he lounges back, keeping one eye open, and letting the sun warm his fur. As he watches, he sees the moment Peter gives up his act. He jumps off the chair, making his way into Steve’s sunbeam, and slowly curls up next to the larger wolf.

“I’ve never met another cat so absolutely infuriating, Steve,” Peter whispers, petting through Steve’s golden fur, distractedly, “I can’t stand it. Always purring at me and calling me fucking kitten— no sir! I’m not a kitten, and it doesn’t matter how… how…”

He trails off, gripping tight onto Steve’s coat. When Steve turns to look, he realizes Peter’s tiny fangs have lengthened, poking through his rosy lips, as he runs his tongue over them absentmindedly. If he looks close enough, he can even see where Peter’s small, shifted ears are pushing through his curls.

Peter mumbles something that even Steve’s enhanced hearing can’t pick up. He nuzzles under Peter’s arm, urging him to repeat it.

“It doesn’t matter...” Peter murmurs, “... how beautiful he is, right?”

Steve’s ears perk up.

“Don’t act so surprised. Bucky told me you guys talk about it all the time. I just… I didn’t see it, okay? Not until today. Not until Tony fucking brought me coffee. I had no idea he was so sweet, Steve. I guess I always thought he was a dumb male cat shifter, like the stereotypes paint us out to be. But… he’s not. He’s so kind and funny and sexy, and oh my god, I bet his shifted cat is absolutely gorgeous.”

Steve rolls over to let Peter pet his tummy as he continues, “So naturally, I cornered Bucky to get him to spill. To tell me more about Tony, and how to date him, and… and… how you guys got together. But he said to come talk to you—” Peter crawls closer and tries to look him in the eye, “pleeeeeease, Steve? Help me?”

With a sigh, Steve sits up, shaking out his fur and letting his wolf recede, until he’s stretching out long arms and wiggling his fingers. His gym shorts are nearby, so he slips back into them, doing a customary once over to check for a full shift. Then he settles against the couch, opening his arms in an invitation for Peter to curl up on him.

Peter scoots closer, marginally, and Steve chuckles, “Want some dating advice, Pete?”

“Mhm, yes please,” Peter hums, closing the distance and leaning into Steve’s leg.

“Okay, I’ll tell you some things that worked for me, when I was courting Bucky.”

One.

Later that evening, Tony and Steve are set up in the dining room, comparing notes for their Econ class, and steadily working through their midterm project. Bucky and Peter should be back in a moment with pizza, and hopefully the four of them, plus Sam, will spend the night watching movies. It’s Friday, after all.

Steve hears the front door open and close, quiet conversation drifting down the hallway, but is surprised when just Bucky walks into the kitchen, setting down pizza and making his way over to where the two of them are seated.

Bucky leans down, planting a sweet kiss on his lips, before claiming a seat.

He opens his mouth to ask, but Tony beats him to it, not even looking up, “Where’d Pete get off to? You didn’t lose him, did you?”

Bucky just huffs, “No, you moron. He had to grab something from his room.”

Tony just shrugs, turning back to his notes. Steve spares Bucky a glance, curious about what Peter could be up to, and Bucky gives him a wink. Great.

It’s quiet as the three of them shift pages, typing gently on their laptops, and only exchanging conversation when there’s an issue with the material. Steve gets up once to grab a glass of water, and tries to look down the hallway— no sign of his roommate whatsoever.

With the smell of pizza filling the apartment, they decide not to wait any longer to eat. Steve hollers down the hall for Peter to come get some dinner, but still, his roommate is nowhere to be seen.

As he sits back down at the table, Steve can hear light footsteps coming towards them. He turns his attention back to their homework, and watches as Tony and Bucky pass out glasses, uncorking a bottle of wine.

“How fuckin’ fancy are we?” Steve wonders, giving Bucky a smirk as Tony starts to pour.

“Okay, there’s nothing wrong with a nice bottle of—” “YEEEEOOOOOWWWWWLLLL—”

Tony drops the bottle, flipping backwards out of his seat at the ungodly screech. Steve hops over into Bucky’s lap, picking his feet off the floor as his boyfriend flounders around, cursing and gasping for air.

“Holy shit, what the hell—”

“ReeeRRROOOOWWWWLLL—”

The noise continues, splitting through the air, and Steve watches Tony shift down, fangs lengthening, ears and whiskers emerging, as he drops to four legs. From where they sit on the dining room chair, neither of them can see what happens as the noise suddenly stops, a long, hissing growl taking its place.

Steve peeks under the table, and sees both cat shifters arched up, fur fluffed out in a clear challenge, teeth bared and hissing. Dammit. Peter’s cat— a yellow tabby— is slowly backing up as Tony’s cat— dark and tortoiseshell— follows him, spitting and growling, until Peter finally turns his back, relaxing his coat, and slowly retreats.

“Holy shit,” Bucky breaths, starting to laugh, “what the fuck was that.”

Steve just shakes his head in disbelief, watching Peter sprint down the hall to his room as Tony licks his paws, tail still fluffed in irritation, and eyes pinning them with a deadly glare.

The table is a mess— wine spilled across their notes, Tony’s laptop, and pizza overturned, smeared across the soaked pages. Once Tony starts shifting back, Steve slides off of Bucky’s lap and takes stock of the damage. What the fuck indeed.

He looks over at Bucky, “Can you… take care of this,” he gestures to the table, “I’m gonna go talk to Peter.”

Bucky nods, still shocked, and Steve turns to follow Peter back to his room. He stops outside, knocking gently— careful not to intrude into the shifter’s territory.

“Peter, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There’s a rumble, and then the lock clicks, letting the door swing open. Peter struts back towards his window seat, fully shifted back and wearing just a pair of black briefs, and curls up by the window.

“Uh, Pete? What happened?”

Peter sniffles, looking out the window, “You told me that you and Bucky like to show affection by making noises at each other in your wolf form. So why didn’t it work?”

“Oh my god.”

“He attacked me, Steve!” Peter whines, burying his face in his hands.

It takes everything in Steve’s power not to laugh. Poor kitten. He slowly approaches, sitting nearby and in Peter’s view, extending a hand for Peter to take if he wants.

“So… maybe that wasn’t the best advice. I swear, it’s one of the easiest ways we bond, as wolves. But not that screeching noise, Peter— more of a growl, or other small noises.”

Peter pouts, looking into his hands.

“Here,” Steve stands up, holding out his hand, “let’s go get some pizza and help clean up. You can apologize, come up with some dumb excuse, and we can find some other way to hit on Tony, okay?”

“Fine.” Peter joins him, pulling on a sweatshirt and some shorts, “Let’s hope I didn’t spill all the damn wine. We’re gonna need it.”

Two.

A few days later, all of their friends are lounging across Steve’s furniture, taking a lazy afternoon after midterms to drink some Coor’s and watch Japanese game shows. Steve’s not even sure who’s interested in this, but doesn’t really care, as he lets himself drift off to the sound of Bucky’s deep breathing, his mate settled close on his chest.

It’s rare that everyone is in the same place, especially without homework or projects taking up their time, and Steve feels a deep sense of peace as his pack is settled, warm and safe, around him.

“Stop it, Stevie, you’re givin’ me thoughts,” Bucky mumbles, pinching him in the side.

Steve just hums, smiling down at his mate, and looks over to where Peter’s laying across the floor, partially shifted, and tail flicking slightly. On the other side of the room, Tony watches with his arms crosses, eyes following the striped tail.

“Let's go for a walk.” Steve announces, lifting Bucky off and getting a grumpy noise in protest. He makes a show of stretching, and gives Peter a wink. His eyes go wide in understanding.

“Fine,” Peter pushes off the carpet, shaking himself to shift back fully, “but only if I can get ice cream.”

Bucky ends up agreeing, and muscles Tony into joining them as well. Sam and Natasha decide to stay, enjoying the silence, but demand delivery from their friends. Clint stands up as they’re leaving, and follows them out the door.

It’s a quick walk down to get ice cream, just a block away, and Steve tries to make a show of brushing up against Bucky, reminding Peter of their last conversation.

Peter saddles up next to Tony, walking side-by-side only a few steps in front of them. He glances up, batting his eyelashes, and bumps his hips into Tony’s.

Tony whips around, on instinct, and pushes Peter in the chest, sending him careening off the sidewalk and landing in a heap, right in the middle of the road. All of them freeze, looking between Tony and Peter in disbelief, as the younger boy’s eyes brim with tears.

“Oh my… Peter, oh my god,” Tony shakes himself, and sprints into the road, thankfully clear of traffic, and pulls Peter to his feet, leading him back to the sidewalk. “I don’t… I don’t even know what happened, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s fine,” Peter pulls away, giving Steve a dirty look, “can we just go get ice cream, please?”

Tony nods, sticking close to Peter as they walk away, and Steve can hear him promise, “I’ll buy yours, really, I’m so sorry.”

When they’re out of earshot, Clint ambling along after them with a shrug, Bucky turns to him and smirks, “What was that, Stevie?”

“I… I told him about the rubbing thing we do. You know… when we walk together?”

Bucky laughs all the way to the ice cream parlor.

Three.

It’s a week or so later when they have Tony and Bucky over for another movie night. Peter was mortified, and furious, about his latest attempt, but Steve can tell he’s determined to make a move tonight.

And Steve thinks this one will work, too. He’s not sure, at this point, if he should still be giving Peter advice, but he’s seen cat shifter mates do this, so he’s pretty sure it’s gonna work.

Bucky just smacks him in the head, annoyed that Steve wants to meddle.

The four of them are watching the Hobbit trilogy, per Tony’s request, and have piled blankets and pillows on the floor to lounge on. Steve takes the leads and shifts down, kicking off his clothes, shaking out his fur, and stretching out in his wolf form on the floor. He feels Bucky join him, the familiar warmth of his mate comforting against his side. They both look expectantly at their friends, hoping they take the hint.

Peter squints at them, irritated, but shifts down anyway, pushing out of his clothes and settling against Steve’s side, purring when the giant wolf starts to groom him, licking long strokes down his back.

Steve can see the adoration on Tony’s face. He’s completely captivated by the sweet kitten, and he shifts, stretching out and pacing closer to the three of them. Steve can’t help but wag his tail, bumping up against Bucky and wiggling closer to get a lick on Tony’s face.

Tony yelps, bouncing away, and pretends to clean himself. Peter just watches on, intently, as Tony takes his time to walk back over, carefully avoiding the wolves. His eyes are wide and unblinking. Tony curls up nearby, and Peter takes his chance, slinking closer, and reaching out to lick Tony’s cheek.

Tony shifts, moving out of Peter’s reach. Peter crawls closer and tries again, but Tony pulls away. One more try, and Tony stands, jumping up onto the couch and out of reach.

Peter just mewls, soft and sad, before tucking himself back underneath Steve’s front leg. Bucky growls, low in his chest, and Steve can tell it’s aimed at Tony. Dumb cat.

They stay shifted for the better part of an hour, grooming and cuddling together, until Tony finally comes back down from his perch. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve can see him approach, slowly, and try to get near Peter. Bucky growls again, not even opening his eyes, and the tortoiseshell cat scrambles away.

So much for that.

Four.

Spring break— fucking finally.

Classes have been hard this semester, and all of them are feeling it. Steve’s thankful that Tony’s parents have a place in the woods for them to escape to, because he’s itching to shift, let loose, and run away with his mate. Hopefully for the whole week.

Somehow, Steve got stuck driving their car, packing Bucky in the passenger seat, Sam and Peter in the middle two, and Clint, Nat and Tony in the backseat. He’s not sure how they make it there alive, with Bucky’s Cool Vibes playlist, Sam and Tony’s backseat commentary, and the thick mix of pheromones swirling through the air.

“What is that, Buck?” he murmurs in a low tone, squeezing his boyfriend’s hand over the center console.

“Hm?” Bucky looks over, blinking lazily.

“The… tension. The smell. What is it?”

“Oh, uh—” Bucky takes a moment, scenting the air and grimacing, “— yeah, that’s rut.”

Steve almost slams on the breaks.

“Rut? Like cat rut?”

Bucky just nods, making a point to roll down his window, “Yeah, Stevie. It’s springtime. We’ve got two, male cat shifters in the car. The rest of us ain’t gonna feel nothin’, but they’re definitely feelin’ it.”

He turns around and glances behind him, smiling at the sight of both cat shifters arguing and flirting behind them. Sam looks horrified.

Steve just rolls his eyes, “I’m tired of their bullshit. Hope they spend some time together this week, ya know?”

“Hope they spend more than time,” Bucky laughs, giving Steve’s hand a squeeze in return.

In the rearview, Steve can see Tony, fully turned around in his seat, gesturing wildly as Peter shakes his head, the two of them clearly caught in a deep discussion. When he looks closer, he sees the way Peter flutters his lashes, how Tony rubs up against the seat and the wall of the van.

Idiots.

Steve focuses back on the road, sighing and trying to enjoy how warm Bucky is next to him, how settled he is with his mate nearby.

Less than an hour later, and with every window rolled down, Steve parks the van outside of the cabin. If anyone would call it that. Three stories tall, the cabin looms over the driveway. Dark, aged wood is contrasted with sleek and modern architecture, blending back into the treeline and standing out of it at the same time. Gorgeous. Breathtaking.

As they carry their bags into the cabin, Steve catches sight of the lake in the backyard. Apparently Bucky and Clint see it as well, because all three of them are dropping their stuff, stripping out of their clothes, and racing to the water.

Steve shifts mid-stride, barking in joy as his pack follows him into the lake. Around the cabin, down the hill, off the dock— he’s first. First! And Bucky follows after him, their splashes large and in sync.

Clint ambles, albeit slower in his shifted golden retriever, and flops gracelessly in after them. The water is heavenly, and the three of them swim and play, bounding through the water and jumping off the pier.

That is, until their friends join them.

It seems as though Tony let the others into the house, put away their bags, packed a cooler, and found a few beach chairs and towels. The four of them set up a row of chairs and open an umbrella above them, settling down in skimpy swimwear to enjoy the afternoon sun.

Clint barks up at them, no doubt encouraging Nat and Sam to shift down and join them in the water.

“You guys are idiots,” Sam yells back, popping the tab on his drink, “the beer’s up here!”

Steve treads water, huffing a bit in amusement as he watches his pack— which is how he catches Tony moving closer to Peter. Tony passes him a beer, which Peter takes with a smirk and quick comment that makes Tony laugh.

Gag.

And he almost misses it— he goes to turn away, and sees Tony dart across, pressing a swift kiss to Peter’s blushing cheek. Peter gasps, meeting Tony’s eyes in shock, before grabbing his shoulders, leaning closer, and—

“Ow!”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry, Tony—”

“You bit me!”

Steve swims over to the ladder, shifting down as he goes, and grabs a towel as he climbs up to investigate. Both men are standing now, blushing and holding their faces— Peter in shame, and Tony in mock horror. So dramatic.

“— how could you think that was what I wanted?”

“I didn’t! I just… I asked Steve, and he said—”

“Woah woah woah,” Steve cuts in, hands up in surrender, “I never said to bite him.”

Peter covers his face again with a groan, flopping down in his seat and throwing a towel over his face.

Tony looks down at him, bewildered, and back up at Steve, shrugging. “What did I do?” he mouths, lips turning down into a sad, sad pout.

Steve doesn’t even know what to say.

“Let’s go start the grill,” Sam suggests— thank god for Sam, and grabs Steve and Tony’s shoulders to lead them away.

A few minutes later, working over the grill together, Tony peers up at Steve, giving him a pointed look. Steve just sighs, again.

“Canines do this thing— instead of kisses on the cheek, when we’re shifted, we like to nibble on each other’s faces. It’s the same thing,” he pauses, taking in the disbelief written across Tony’s expression, “... for canines.”

“So he was… trying to kiss me back?”

Sam huffs, clapping Tony on the shoulder, “More than that, Tones.”

Tony sits down, hard, in light of this revelation.

Five.

Bucky corners him, later in the evening, and it’s not for a sexy reason.

“You’ve gotta stop meddling in their shit, Stevie,” he hisses, pinning Steve to the wall.

Steve looks down to where their bodies are pressed together and groans, “Buck, this is a serious conversation, but you gotta let me up, pal.” Bucky’s eyes go wide and he grimaces, letting Steve up.

The two of them take a deep breath before Steve continues, “I’ve got a plan.”

“No.”

“It’s a good one.”

“Absolutely not.”

“We should force them to sleep together.”

“...”

“I mean. Not like… Buck, not like that. I mean, like, den together, like how we did when we were bonding for the first time.”

Bucky crosses his arms, giving Steve a less than impressed look.

“So you think that would work? How would you even pull that off?”

“I told you, I have a plan.”

---

Steve and Bucky corner Tony, later, and tell him their plan. Steve explains how he’s spent almost a month trying to help Peter court Tony, and Tony, for the most part, looks absolutely baffled.

“Yeah, I didn’t get that.”

Bucky covers his laugh with a hand, turning away so Steve can’t see him. Idiot.

They try to convince Tony to go along with their plan— sneaking into Peter’s room, fully shifted, and curling up next to him.

“It’s not gonna work, Steve. Felines are territorial—”

“— so are canines—”

“— and he’s not gonna want me in his space uninvited!”

“— but it’s not his space! It’s yours, it’s literally your territory,” Steve insists, “and it’ll show him that you want more, Tony.”

Tony just sighs, looking off into the fireplace, roaring with life. Warm and inviting. Steve aches to get out of here, but he’s committed to getting his friends together first.

“Fine,” Tony concedes, rising to his feet and starting to shift. He points at Steve as he shrinks down, “but I’m blaming you when thisss goesss to shhit.”

Fully shifted, Tony stalks across the living room, disappearing up the stairs to the guest bedrooms. Steve pulls Bucky close, both of them nuzzling close and enjoying their shared scent, shared warmth. They hear a door shut. Silence. Bucky turns to dot a light kiss on Steve’s jaw, and Steve returns it with a teasing growl.

“When this is over,” he rumbles, “we’re shifting for days, baby.”

Bucky sighs and wiggles closer, “Can’t wait, Stevie. Been itchin’ for it. Needin’—”

BANG, CRASH!

MrrrOWWWWWWWW

“Not again,” Bucky groans, hiding his face in Steve’s chest.

Tony, still fully shifted, tears through the living room, tail fluffed out and fur raised along his back. He darts under their couch, breathing hard and hiding, as Peter stomps down the stairs. He’s half shifted— fangs and ears and paws and tail all displaying aggression and annoyance.

“I really like you Tony,” he hisses, crossing his arms and standing so that Tony can see him from under the couch, “but that was a real dick move. Sometimes I feel like you hate me, and want me to hate you. Don’t try to talk to me, Tony. I don’t wanna see you until the morning.”

Peter stalks away, leaving Tony under the couch. Bucky tugs on Steve’s sleeve, “We really shouldn’t be here when Tony shifts back.”

Steve spares a glance under the couch, watching Tony clean his paws and glare back at them, and nods. The two of them beat a quick retreat, heading for the kitchen to pack some snacks for their time in the forest. Tony said the deer in this area are free to hunt, but sometimes they like fruits and pastries for breakfast. It’s a whole thing.

Before they run off into the woods, Steve stops, looking back to where Tony, still shifted, is sulking under the furniture.

“You should do it.”

Both Tony and Bucky look at him in shock, the latter already protesting.

“No, no— you don’t have to take my advice, Tony. I know I’ve screwed a bunch up already. I’m just saying, you should talk to him tonight, show him that you care. Follow your instincts— because they’re obviously different than ours. We know…” he glances over at Bucky, who nods, “we know you love him, Tony. Go fight for him.”

Tony just turns around, showing his back.

Bucky grabs Steve’s hand, “Let’s go, Stevie.”

One.

Tony watches them retreat out the backdoor, letting it close with a soft click! He slinks out from under the couch and sits by the fire, thinking about what Steve said.

Follow your instincts.

He thinks about the kiss earlier. How pretty Peter’s blush had been, how much he wanted to rub up against Peter’s cheek and mark him, claim him. He wishes they got to run together, fight and wrestle away their pent up energy. He knows both of them are rutting, he just thought… he really thought…

It doesn’t matter now. He closes his eyes, lets his ears twitch in thought, as he focuses on his instincts. He lets the rage and the desire and the animal need wash over him, and all he can think, all he can feel, is chase.

Chase. Catch.

Chase. Catch.

He doesn’t even register getting up, prowling up the stairs, moving down the hallway.

Chase. Catch.

Chase. Catch.

The door to Peter’s room is open.

Chase. Catch.

He creeps inside, taking a peek over to the bed.

Mate.

Peter turns his head, making eye contact.

Run.

Tony leaps into the air, sprinting out the door— Peter hot on his tail. He flies down the stairs and slides around the corner, slamming into the trash can. Dammit. Why is that always there? As he growls at the metal can, Peter catches up to him, tackling him to the ground with a loud shriek.

They wrestle, growling and biting, until Peter breaks free with a hiss, bouncing on the pads of his feet to assert dominance. Oh no. Not in Tony’s house. Tony spits, rising up on his toes, until Peter freezes— both of them growling, low and angry.

Peter takes off. Spinning on his feet, the yellow tabby slams, hard, into the wall— fuck, he’s so strong— and bounces off lightning fast, out the door and into the front yard. Tony runs after him, dodging bushes and trees to follow Peter’s agile trail, secretly admiring his speed and the cleverness of his path. Beautiful.

He follows Peter all the way up a tree, forcing him out on a limb. Tony arches his back, sending a signal of dominance across to Peter, but Peter refuses to back down. He meets Tony’s gaze, raises his haunches, and spits back. Holy shit.

Tony leaps, tackling Peter off the branch, and sends both of them tumbling into the grass. In a flurry of nails and teeth and yowling, they fight for dominance, pinning and repinning until they come to a stop, teeth mutually clenched in the other’s scruff, and completely tangled together.

They’re breathing hard. Tony can feel it on his neck, and realizes both of their penises have unsheathed, rubbing together and catching on the barbs. It’s a crazy sensation— ramping up both of their rut pheromones.

As they lay there together— intertwined in the dark of the spring night— Tony feels himself start to shift back. He closes his eyes, gripping tight to Peter’s neck, his bare skin, as he flexes his fingers. He feels Peter shifting in his arms, and they hold on tight, neither willing to give up their prize.

“Mine,” Tony growls, unlatching his jaw as he feels Peter do the same.

His friend, his new mate, smiles— his gorgeous, bruised lips pulling back to reveal delicate and deadly fangs, “Mine,” he agrees, leaning forward hesitantly.

Tony closes the gap, rubbing their cheeks together and earning a satisfied purr from deep in Peter’s chest. He rolls them until he’s on top, and takes a few moments to kiss and lick around Peter’s chest, his tummy, his neck.

He grins mischievously before biting down on a pale pink nipple, earning him a gutted moan in response. Peter’s definitely hard against Tony’s thigh, but he’s been waiting way too long for this to rush it. Damn if he isn’t gonna take his time tonight.

“Mine,” he growls again, fiercer, and drags his nails up Peter’s hips, down his back. He drowns in the small gasps and moans he’s able to coax from his mate, marveling in the way his pale skin glows in the moonlight.

Peter paws at his back, spreads his legs wide, and grinds up against Tony’s erection, desperate for his touch. Every Mine is echoed between them, sung like a mating call for all to hear in the thick, springtime haze. They dance together, flipping time and time again for dominance— although, this time gentle. Caring and full of playful adoration.

When Tony finally takes them in hand, Peter throws his head back, yowling into the open air— “Tony! Tony, fuck fuck, touch me, goddammit, please touch me,” and Tony bends to his wishes, stroking their cocks together, long and firm.

He loves how Peter feels next to him, a tiny bit smaller, but the perfect size to compliment Tony’s own length. Tony spits down into his hand, slicking the way, and thrusts forward, urging Peter to follow his lead as they fuck into his grip.

“C’mon Pete, c’mon love— fuck me, baby, please.”

“Yeah, oh Tony, please. Need more, Tony,” Peter begs turning his wickedly innocent doe eyes on Tony in desperation.

Tony grips tighter, thrusts harder, and returns Peter’s molten gaze. What can he… oh.

He throws himself forward, bracing with one hand above Peter’s head, and seals their lips together. Peter gasps, stuttering his hips, and Tony can feel the warmth spilling over his palm, coating both of their cocks. He strokes Peter through it, kissing him deeply, thoroughly, until his mate starts to whine in discomfort.

Tony pulls away, feeling his orgasm pooling deep in his belly, and crawls up closer on Peter’s chest. His eyes are half-lidded, lips swollen and hair matted and messy— and Tony’s never seen anything more gorgeous.

“Please,” he pants, speeding up the stroke on his cock, “Pete, please let me, let me come on you, please. Mine. Mine, Peter. Let me mark you, please.”

“Yes, yes—“ Peter moans, reaching up to cup Tony’s balls, “mine, give it to me, Tony— it’s mine.”

At his words, Tony lets out a breath, crumpling forward as his release drains him, throwing him over the edge and right into Peter’s waiting arms. He watches as hot stripes of cum paint Peter’s chest, drip down his chin, and even land in his mouth. It’s too much to see his mate, covered in him, licking it off his fingers— so he falls to the ground, exhausted and spent.

A moment later he’s grabbing for Peter, humming in pleasure as his mate saddles close, burying his face in Tony’s neck.

And then Peter giggles. A soft, barely there laugh that tickles the side of Tony’s throat.

“What?” Tony rasps, looking down at Peter in amusement.

Peter keeps laughing, sitting up fully to bury his face in his hands and get out full, gasping belly laughs. He holds onto Tony as he wipes away tears, and Tony just chuckles, happy to see his mate so joyful.

When Peter settles down, he sighs, giving Tony a lopsided smile, “I can’t believe what just happened,” Tony shakes his head, returning the smile, as Peter continues, “I’ve been taking dating advice from a fucking wolf for a month— when all we had to do was,” he gestures wildly, “whatever this was,”

Tony laughs, he gets it now, “Well, it was kinda inconvenient that every suggestion they had was actually a severe act of aggression between male felines.”

“Oh my god,” Peter giggles again, “what the hell were you even trying to do tonight? When I found you in my bed?”

Tony blushes, looking away, and mumbles, “Steve and Bucky thought if we slept next to each other—“

“— but that’s a breach of territory for unmated felines!”

“— that’s what I said! Somehow they convinced me otherwise, and… well…”

Tony trails off, letting his words fade to a comfortable silence. Peter snuggles closer, letting Tony wrap and arm around him. It’s chilly outside, but until they go and lay by the fire, both of them are content to find warmth in each other.

“I’m glad you came to find me,” Peter whispers, dotting a kiss onto Tony’s collarbone.

“I’m glad I did, too,” Tony nuzzles into his curls, inhaling the new scent of mate and home that he’s come to associate with Peter, “and you know what? In the end, that idiot’s dating advice ended up bringing me to you.”

“We don’t have to tell him that do we?”

Tony shakes his head, “No. No we don’t.”

Bonus:

Clint and Sam and Nat stare at each other in horror, refusing to acknowledge what they just heard going on inside and outside of the house.

“Do you think the coast is clear?”

“Can’t be certain. It’s way too quiet out there.”

“They’re both in rut, it could be days.”

“Maybe we should go find Steve and Bucky, they’d know what to do.”

“If I know them at all, and I think I do, those two are gonna be knotted up for the next few days. I don’t wanna witness that.”

The three of them are silent, listening for any movement or sign that their newly mated friends are alive.

“I vote we shift down and doggy pile.”

“Yes, okay.”

“Fine.”

“And in the morning, we can talk about feline mating patterns.”

“... and boundaries.”

[neoheros]

how would haikyuu boys react to you hitting them up at 3 am? feat. gym three squad !

tsukishima kei

listen LISTEN

i know everyone thinks he’s the punctual kid who got his shit together and has a nice bed time and stuff

but like ??? tsukki is just a lil boy who collects dinosaurs and has a crippling addiction to tiktok

this boy is awake at 3 am because he cannot for the love of god put his phone down 

he’s basically bouncing back and forth from twitter to tiktok, he’s TIRED OF IT

at this time he’s got a pretty picture of you cozily asleep in bed cause it’s like almost the crack of dawn and he’s chill with the fact that you’re healthy and taking care of yourself

so imagine how betrayed he felt when you snap him a picture of yourself holding up a peace sign with a silly grin at 3:36 am captioned “wanna get ice cream w/ me? 😗✌️”

he doesn’t reply but he does leave you on opened

and you were low key hurt cause 3 am do be the time you’re on your feels

he snaps you back though after a minute or two

it’s a video of him rolling his eyes at you but then flipping the camera to show you that he’s already on his way out the door with car keys in his hand

he’s gonna pretend that he’s annoyed but cmon guys let’s be real

he wanted some ice cream too and his fyp was showing the same stuff over and over again

plus he missed seeing you ok 👉👈

once he arrives at your door, he’s all grumpy but you don’t buy it !!! nah you see right through his act !!

tsukki: we’re buying ice cream and then we’re going to sleep or so help me i’ll lose my mind and never function again 😤

you: so i’m guessing you wrecked your sleep schedule too this quarantine huh?

tsukki, on the verge of a meltdown: if i see the sunrise without sleeping again for the eight morning in a row i’ll cry

you pat his back and you enjoy your ice cream together in his car while you both scroll through tiktok again

kuroo tetsuro

ok so contrary to popular belief, kuroo is in bed by 11 pm and wakes up at 8 am

like have y’all SEEN that man !!

y’all think he’s staying up til 4 am with THAT figure ?????

he’s got the body of a 6’2 nordic god and skin that is smoother than a baby’s bum

this boy takes care of himself and it SHOOOOOOWS !!!!!!

so anyways it’s 3 am and you’re still awake because who the hell isn’t these days like please

you knew that your boyfriend was most likely asleep by now but if you knew anything and i mean anything about kuroo is that he never puts his phone on silent

so you weigh out the pros and cons on asking him to come eat out with you and it didn’t take you that much time to decide tbh

pros: he gets to see you and it’s been so long since he has

pros: think of all the hugs and forehead kisses you both are missing out on

pros: you can ask him to bring his grey sweatshirt which always smells like his cologne that you forgot to take from him

cons: bro after thinking of that last one, the cons didn’t even matter at this point, you just missed your man like damn :(

so you facetime him and it takes numerous of rings before the call got dropped

you: oh so he’s SLEEPING sleeping :/

but then like before you could ring him up again you’re already getting another call from him

you take a second or two cause your heart was just so warm like !!! that’s my baby 🥺👉👈

you answer and he’s so pretty y’all it’s unfair like how did this man just wake up

his hair was all messy and he’s rubbing his eyes and stuff but also you can clearly see his silver chain on his exposed collar bone and NGJEJDKSKZKA

you, out of breath: h-holy shit

and his bed voice !! it’s all deep and groggy like who gave you the right ??

you swear you felt your heart stop when he went “babe, it’s 3 am,”

sir we are supposed to be social distancing please do not make me act up

kuroo, half asleep: did you need anything baby 🥺

you, on the verge of tears: i wanted mcdonald’s but instead i’m getting attacked 😤

and you just watch him stifle a yawn before his face erupts in a goofy ass smile as he goes “mcdonald’s it is.”

KENSKWNS I LOVE KUROO

bokuto koutarou

BABIE !! HE IS !! AN ACTUAL BABIE !!

i’m just gonna be flat out honest here, he’s the one who hits you up at 3 am to hang out

bc it’s quarantine and social distancing has taken so much from him already and he just wants to see his babie ok is that too much to ask

so it’s not a surprise to anyone when it’s 3 am in the morning and he finds himself in his feels cause both you and akaashi fell asleep on him and he’s just !!! 🥺

he’s nowhere near falling asleep too cause every time he tries to sleep his messed up body clock is just like nah bruh it ain’t 9 am yet 💀✌️

so he’s contemplating either going out to get starbucks alone or dragging you or akaashi out of bed

he goes with the latter cause you know what it’s what he deserves !! 😤😤

he calls you in a heartbeat after making up his mind and his heart falls to his stomach when you don’t pick up

but two minutes later you snap him a photo of you in bed rubbing your eyes with the caption “this is the earliest i’ve woken up in 3 weeks”

he laughs aloud at that and his heart is doing jumping jacks cause you’re so cute and it’s like YOU !! WERE !! MADE !! FOR !! HIM !!

he snaps you back with him in his hoodie, a wide smile and his keys brought up to his face with the text, “starbucks w/ me?”

the two of you end up falling asleep in his car on a parking lot and you wake up to see that he took off his sweatshirt to cover you from the cold 🥺👉👈

akaashi keiji

akaashi keiji is the most perfect boy in the world

so y’all can bet that the latest he’ll stay up is 11 pm with the ensured fact that he’ll wake up at 7 am

he’s a pretty light sleeper though but he never puts his phone on silent because what if he’s needed and there’s an emergency 🥺

yes he is That kind of person

he tells you everyday to try and have a better sleep schedule to train your body clock but do you listen? no 👉👈

so he’s kinda alarmed but also not really when his phone lets out a consecutive amount of notification pings

they’re all from you and at first he’s worried because woah that’s a lot of snaps and texts

but then he remembers that oh they’re all from you

anyways he wakes himself up, running his hand through his hair as he goes through the span of messages you sent him

basically ranging from “hey keiji in the tiny TINY chance you’re still awake do you wanna play imessage games with me” to “i’m so upset look how pretty that cat is,”

he had a smile on his face the whole time he read through them

he sends you a snap of his sleepy face with a soft grin and captioned it with “are you still bored and awake?”

and it takes you a minute and a second of tearing up over having the most amazing boyfriend ever before responding to him

you send him a snap of you with your hand over your chest saying, “i’m hungry now too 🥺”

akaashi, already on his way out the doorway with an extra hoodie and a bucket of ice cream: omw ❤️👍

[beelsnack]

Bad Influence - Beelsnack's 666 Follower Special!!

(Technically I'm over 666 - shoutout to the porn bots)

But seriously, holy shit, there's a lot of you. Thank you all so much for liking my stuff, and for interacting with me and sending me good vibes and all of that. I hope I can keep giving you guys quality work!!

And yes, I am a nerd and I consider 666 a milestone for a blog for a bunch of demons. No, I'm not sorry.

-----

Lucifer: He couldn’t help but wonder when the change had set in.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, they had been humble and meek. If anyone complimented them, they deflected it with the mastery and resignation of someone who had been doing it for far longer than they should have. And if someone thanked them? You would think their entire world was dissolving around them.

But now?

He extended a gloved hand towards them as they descended the stairs. Tonight was one of the rare nights where they had the opportunity to be alone without one of his brothers tagging along, and they had been planning this date for nearly a week now. They slipped their hand in his without any of the hesitation they would have shown at first. They knew they deserved his reverence.

“You look radiant as always, my dear,” he curled his fingers around theirs as they reached the bottom step, bringing the backs of their knuckles to his lips. “Surely there is no star in the sky that could outshine you.”

They laughed - his theatrics always did amuse them. “You do have amazing taste, after all.”

He chuckled as well, guiding the two of them to the front door. “Of course. Do you think the Avatar of Pride would associate with anyone less than the best?”

“Definitely not,” the wind that came through the door when they opened it blew their hair away from their face, and Lucifer couldn’t help but preen at the fact that he had helped that quivering little animal grow into the proud swan that stood before him.

“Speaking of the best, where are we going for dinner?”

“Don’t worry, my dear,” he laughed as they made their way out into the night. “You deserve the world, and the world you shall get.”

“Unless ‘the world’ means a steak dinner, I’m not interested.”

Mammon: “Come on, don’t leave me hangin’ out here!”

The curtain covering the entrance to the changing room rustled, and Mammon heard a faint “Fine, fine, just give me a sec!” before it finally opened and out stepped the human.

Mammon always thought they looked good no matter what they were wearing, even if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. Actually, especially if it was one of his old t-shirts and a pair of shorts. But seeing them decked out in his fashion brand - one he had both designed and modeled - was definitely making him feel some type of way.

He let out a low whistle when they stopped in front of the chair he had seated himself in. The results of his own shopping spree were tucked haphazardly into a colorful assortment of bags at his feet, but the human had taken a bit longer than he did picking out their stuff. And damn, was he glad they did, because otherwise he wouldn’t get the chance to see them modeling his clothes.

It was a private fashion show, just for him.

The outfit itself was pretty simple. A black fitted tee beneath a cropped leather jacket, a pair of faded dark-blue skinny jeans, and a pair of black sneaks with a gold stripe going up the side. But the thing that brought the whole outfit together was the long necklace with a topaz pendent resting against their breastbone.

“Well?” they asked, giving him a spin before striking a pose before him. “What do you think?”

For a moment, he couldn’t speak. The human wearing his clothes...it was the next best thing to them walking around with “I Belong To Mammon” tattooed on their forehead.

“I, uh...I guess you...um,” he swallowed thickly. “Ya look alright, I guess.”

“That’s tsundere for ‘you look hot,’ right?” they grinned before spinning around to look in the mirror. “Man, this is a whole look! I have to have it!”

If this had been a few months ago, the human would have waffled back and forth about whether or not to buy anything. It didn’t matter how much they wanted something, it was almost like they just couldn’t do anything nice for themselves. There was being frugal, and then there was deprivation. Now, though, was completely different.

“I wonder if I should get some shades to go with?” they mumbled, looking themselves over in the mirror. “I think that would really pull it together, don’t you?”

“Just don’t go for the Ray Bans, it’s a fucking scam.”

Leviathan: "Come on, come on, come on…"

Very rarely was Levi the one watching someone else play games, unless it was a stream. And as mind-blowingly awesome it would be to watch the human stream one of his current faves, he definitely didn't want other people seeing how adorable they looked when they were focused.

They had come to him with absolute determination in their eyes, begging him to help them out. There were a limited amount of UR armor sets in the event, and they needed to get their hands on one. And, well, what kind of friend would he be if he didn't help them out?

(The fact that he already scored the armor is irrelevant.)

So, here they were, camped out in the pillow nest that they often made for themselves when gaming in his room, laser focused on the screen with Levi giving them guidance. The event level was brutal, but they were in the final hours, so it was crunch time.

"Okay, this boss is easy once you know the attack pattern. Four regular slashes, a jab, then you've got about five seconds to get behind a pillar before it uses the AOE."

"Gotcha."

Even then, it was a long battle, and they had used up most of their healing potions by the time the monster let out an anguished roar and disintegrated into a pile of bones. The human held their breath as they moved towards it to gather their loot.

"Yes!!"

They practically leaped out of the pillow nest in triumph. There, right on the top of the loot list in shimmering gold font, and the UR armor that they had been coveting.

"I got it! I got it!" they cheered. "Levi, I finally got it!"

"Hell yeah you did!" the two of them shared a crisp high five as the results of the campaign loaded on the screen. It was updating in real time, so they could watch as the final moments of the event ticked away.

Levi knew what they were looking for. Early on in the dungeon, another player had done them real dirty, sniping them from a few levels above and then taunting them over VC about how they would never get the armor now. So of course that only inspired the human to work harder, and here they were.

3...2...1

Event over. Quickly, the human scrolled up to the beginning of the list, checking the names of all the players who scored the armor.

Levi sat next to them, chewing his lip. What was that person's tag again? He didn't remember.

Suddenly, the human let out a snort that turned into a full-on giggle fit.

"They didn't get it!" they cackled like a hyena. "Serves them right, the jackass!"

Levi was pretty sure it wasn't a good idea to laugh at the misfortune of others. But, he knew better than anyone that spite was a hell of a motivator. When they had first gotten themselves isekai’d into the Devildom, they had let demons walk all over them, Levi had personally witnessed a lower-level demon shove them out of the way to get a sandwich they had been reaching for, and the human just stood there and let them take it. But they had grown to be a little more selfish, and if they wanted something, they were taking it.

And maybe, just maybe, seeing them like that turned him on just a little bit.

Satan: "You want to come and say that to my face?"

Satan stood there in stunned silence as the human spun on their heel to look the demons right in the eyes. They had their back to him, so Satan couldn't see the look on their face, but whatever it was made the two lesser demons flinch.

"Hey, come on, Human, we were just joking."

"Yeah, no need to get all worked up."

They scoffed, and Satan knew them well enough to know that they were rolling their eyes. "Is that right? So you don't think I'm a...what was it? A fleshy meat sack who thinks they can get what they want by sleeping with the strongest demons in the Devildom?"

Another flinch. Satan chuckled to himself.. Did those morons really think they wouldn't hear them? Humans might not have super-heightened senses but they weren't deaf.

A small crowd had begun gathering around them, waiting to see what would happen. It wasn't every day one of the human exchange students squared up to a demon.

"You've got some nerve," the human drew themself up to their full height - which, admittedly, was laughable compared to most demons - and crossed their arms. "What do you think Lord Diavolo would do to demons who messed with his exchange students?"

"I believe there's a special spot in the Royal Torture Chambers for such demons," Satan came to stand next to them, and the other demons downright cowered. "If I recall correctly, there's an Iron Maiden down there."

"Ooh, cool!"

"Alright, we get it!" One of the demons cried, throwing their hands up defensively. "We're sorry!"

Satan opened his mouth to spit a curse at them, but the human beat him to it. "I've got Lord Diavolo on speed dial, so start running."

The two demons turned tail and booked it down the hallway, nearly crashing into Beelzebub as he turned the corner with a sandwich hanging out of his mouth. He stood frozen for a moment before he swallowed and turned to Satan and the human.

"Were those two bothering you guys?"

Satan cast a sideways look at the human before a wicked grin spread across his face.

"They took care of it."

Asmodeus: "Well, someone's feeling bold tonight."

The door had barely shut behind the two of them before the human was pressing Asmo against it, mouthing at his neck as their hands traveled down the front of his silk blouse. He shuddered gleefully as their breath ghosted against his ear lobe.

"I can't help it," they murmured, fingers skirting just beneath the hem of his shirt. "You looked so good out there."

"I look good all the time, darling," he hummed, reaching up to grab a fistful of hair to gently pry them away from his neck.

"You looked especially good," they huffed as he let go of their hair. "Dancing like that, I could barely wait until we got home."

"Aw, sweetheart, you should have come to join me." Asmo rolled his hips in an echo of the dancing he had been doing at the club, delighting when he felt them shiver against him. "We could have put on a show that would have captivated the whole Devildom."

"I don't think the staff would appreciate it."

"They would be too busy watching to care," Asmo giggled, diving down to capture their lips in a quick and dirty kiss. "Although I can't say I'm not thrilled to be getting a private show."

Beelzebub: “Man, this place has the best barbecue!”

Dinner dates were a pretty common thing for the two of them. Over the course of the human’s stay in the Devildom, the two of them had figured out which restaurants would put up with Beel’s appetite and which would visibly freeze when the Avatar of Gluttony entered the establishment. The Hellfire Barbecue was one of the good places, probably because Beel made sure to tip really well, and one time personally went into the kitchen to tip the chef. Or, well, he tried, anyway. He ended up giving the money to the human and told them to give it to the chef because he knew if he went in there he would devour everything. But the sentiment was still there.

Beel smiled down at the human as they wiped the barbecue sauce off of their face. “You finished all of it this time.”

“Huh?” they glanced at their plate. “Oh. Yeah, I guess I did.”

“You usually don’t.”

“I was really hungry, I guess.” they grinned sheepishly.

Beel distinctly remembered the human telling him that they always tried to save some food for later. Whether it was being resourceful or because they had a weird sense of shame around eating too much, Beel didn’t know, but he had never pressed in case it was a sensitive issue. But, seeing them indulge themselves and looking genuinely full and satisfied made him happy. And was probably his main motivation for taking them out to dinner so often.

Well, that and getting his own food.

“I like watching you eat.” Beel said, waving to the owner as he passed by.

“You...like watching me eat.” the human repeated, looking somewhat confused.

“You look so happy when you eat good food,” Beel smiled. “I like seeing you happy.”

Belphegor: Oh, how the tables have tabled.

“Come on, I don’t feel like dealing with Lucifer’s lectures today.” Belphie grumbled, tugging half-heartedly on the human’s arm that was flung around his waist. “We should get up soon.”

For all of his complaining, Belphie didn’t move. If anything, he snuggled down deeper into the bed. He loved when the human agreed to have a sleepover in the attic with him. They got uninterrupted cuddle and nap time, since nobody dared to come up to the attic except Beel. And Beel was almost always welcome to join the cuddle puddle.

“Five more minutes…” the human mumbled sleepily, burying their face into Belphie’s neck. The soft, contented sigh they let out tickled, and he squirmed a little.

“Aren’t you usually the one waking me up?” Belphie nuzzled his nose against their hair.

“But it’s comfy here,” they whined. “I don’t want to get up.”

“You just don’t want to do the presentation in class today.”

“Your point?”

Belphie laughed. “Can’t say I disagree.”

“I did all the hard work anyway,” they shrugged. “We’ll make Mammon give the report.”

“Sounds like a plan to me.”

The two of them settled back down into the nest of pillows. The human had almost drifted back to sleep when Belphie brought his nose down to theirs to nuzzle them together.

“You’re cute when you’re sleepy.”

“You’re cute when you shut up and let me sleep.”

[horrortamer-archive]

=> Valkyrie: The End Of The Beginning

[Special thank you to @smearrps @edwarddidntdeserveher and @shrubrp for proof reading and help editing this! This short story ending has been in the works for months now and I'm very grateful for their help.]

[Warning! This story includes body horror, eye/face horror, abuse victim blaming and possession. It's very long.]

_______________________________

You're tired of being the main character. You never asked for this. You never wanted it. You are sick of it.

There is so much attention and pressure constantly. YOU were chosen by Glub. YOU were chosen to become orphaner. YOU were chosen by the gods. YOU must save the world and bring mercy to the people. But YOU are tired of it. What will YOU do?

YOU are tired of waiting.

YOU are going to end this.

All talks with other rebellion leaders had ended. Everyone had gone silent due to the recent arrest and execution of one of your allies. You, Valkyrie Ampora, are restless. At first, you took this moment of quiet as a blessing. You were going to marry Porrim and start life together before you finished your job. However, you now see it as a curse. It's an aching silence. Now you have no plans for the future. Yes, you have people who love you dearly, but you have no plan. There is no promise of a future anymore. So, now that you know you have no future, why not take a risk? Might as well die for this cause and show the empire how much you fucking hate it.

You and your allies had talked about multiple murder attempts of the empress and grand many times before. You had insider information on these two specifically, having worked closely with them in the past as a politician. You knew exactly where the Grand Highblood lived, worked, and went in his free time. You knew he spent as much time as possible in a slinky little juggalo bar called The Alley on the outskirts of the capital city. People tend to drool and fawn over others with power and he knew he could use that power to get as many one night stands as possible. He used to be quite upset that that power didn’t work on you.

Yes, Kurloz was the number one big chuckle now, but he wasn’t a man of much luxuries. He stayed true to the juggalo religion and stayed close to all the practitioners who wished to reach out to him. He was vocal, personal and relatable. On paper, he was a man of the people. Holy shit did people eat that up. You knew that in reality, Kurloz was a sleeze ball. He lacked morality. If offered money to say something, he would sign the contract and ensure the sponsorship for that agenda kept on steadily. If there was a product, he was on it to promote that the company was Juggalo Safe. He was a charm and flirt who boasted his body count to any who got him tipsy enough - which, actually, wasn’t all too difficult. He was a dick and you hated him. You knew that his leadership was part of Alternia’s eventual decline.

You had no real plan. All you knew was that before the sun rose, the purple blood would be there.

You’re on the roof of a building across the street, on your belly with your rifle in your hands and your eye peeking through the scope. Usually, you would use a laser rifle for precision, but with lasers there is always a risk of survival. You’ve chosen an old vintage rifle that used physical ammo. Sadly, they don’t make silencers for these things anymore, so you just had to pray. Your body was tense yet mellow. Anxious but patient. If no one else is going to complete this job, you will on your own. It’s been hours and you’ve been still. Silent. No one has noticed you, and no one will notice you until you take the shot. You only have one chance. You will not fuck this up.

Finally, the time arrives. You have no idea how long it has been, but it feels like an entire day has passed. A group of loud purplebloods approach the door. The second tallest of the group you can identify by his big curly hair and his skull face paint, already bleeding off his face from the sweat of a pregame. If you really focused, you could see the beads of sweat, dragging white paint down his face and down his neck and on to his raggedy shirt. You can’t hold this anticipation for much longer. You have been here all day. You need to put his bastard in the grave right now. This is your time. Shoot him. Shoot him. SHOOT HIM--

The millisecond before you pulled the trigger, he turned from you and stepped forward. The millisecond after, everyone around him turned towards the noise. Towards you. They see you. He froze in fear right before the bullet penetrated the back of his head. As far as you knew in that moment, The Grand Highblood, Kurloz Makara, was dead and you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You could hear the screams of terror as you ran back into the building. Everything around you felt fake. Unreal. A blur. You did it. You finally fucking killed him all on your own. Now how were you going to get out of this mess? You kept running down the stairwell before you realized that his posse physically saw you and where you were. They may not have recognized exactly who you are, but they saw you run the fuck back into the building. You scurried back up the stairs to the roof and, you figured, today is a day full of god damn risks.

So you backed up and you got a running start. You thank the gods for your long legs as you jumped from the top of the building across to the roof of a corner store. You land on your feet, tumbling forward and rolling with the remaining momentum. Quickly, you slide off the top of the store and into the alley beside it. Then you just start running. You have no sense of direction, all you know is away. You have to get away.

The back alleys behind these buildings were disgusting. They hadn’t been maintained in sweeps. These back ways belonged to the apartments and rentals of warmer bloods whom the government had slummed here, out of view. As you heard the heels of your boots click along the pavement and you looked around, there was a nostalgic feeling. You used to be so small you could hide under boxes to protect yourself from the elements in the alleys of a city much like this one. You used to skitter around in darkness with your old moirail, Aranea. She hid you away from adults of whom she said would take you and give you to the cruel people who had put her there, lususless in the dark with only you. You didn’t know when you had stopped running. You stood there alone in the alley. Not even the moons could see you. As far as you knew, you were safe. Safe for now.

You allowed yourself to take deep shallow breaths, catching up with the stamina you had used. You stood there, listening to the world around you as you allowed your muscles to relax. You’re okay now, you think. You take your palm husk out of your pocket to text your first mate and you instantly regret it. You’re blinded by the light and it shone in the dark, acting like a flashlight. Almost immediately, you heard movement.

You tried to move as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough. There was a sound of something wheezing through the air before you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. You quickly reached with your left arm to rip out whatever the object was, only to find an arrow in your hands. From your knowledge, it’s not tipped with anything. Just a flesh wound. And, with that, you turned to keep running. You knew then that at least one of those fucks knew exactly where you were, but you couldn’t stop running. You were a big target, and the only way out of this is if you created distance between you and the person in the shadows following or if you got them to show themselves and fight before their backup arrives, but you feel the fact that you were fucked deep in your bones.

It wasn’t long before they had chased you to the spot where they wanted you. You were so focused on running and trying to get away that you didn’t see the clown that was about to come out from the shadows and hit you until the last second. A bat that lacked the traditional spikes (thank fuck) hit you right in the face. You fell backwards onto your back and to the grungy floor below. You could immediately feel that your nose had been at least fractured. You immediately went to guard your face with your arms before the attacking clown had another moment to make contact again with their bat. You heard a deep voice shout, but you could not understand. Other voices replied and made conversation. Whether it was due to your panic or it was a language you didn’t know, you could not understand what they were saying. All you could understand was how tense your muscles were and how your blood pushed through your veins and in your ears. You had to find a way out of this. This couldn’t be it.

You feared this was how it would end. You would die how you had lived. Scared, hiding away in alleyways, trying to evade death and other highbloods in fear that they would take you or kill you. Only some things have changed since then. You have killed Aranea, your only protector. You have learned to fend for yourself. You have grown up. You have fought. You have loved. You have survived. You are persistent. Oftentimes it feels as if you have beaten death at his own game, but tonight you fear him. And yet? You are ready for him. You are tired of being the main character. You are tired of suffering for the narrative. You want to be free. To be happy. You fear that you will only find that in death.

A purple blood somehow taller than you lifts you by the horns and holds you up against a wall. She is screaming in your face. You don’t understand anything she’s saying. All you can understand are your title and your deadname. They know who you are despite how you’ve changed. You peek out from your arm and you see how high you are off the ground. You feel small. You feel young. You can’t wait for Aranea to save you anymore. The clown makes a comment about how much money is on your head. They can’t kill you now. You must be turned in to the empire. You must suffer for your anarchy. For your rebellion. Insubordination.

You will be tortured and executed for your crimes against the empire.

There was just an inkling of hope in your heart. You hoped that something would come to save you, just like before. When you were young and imprisoned for the crimes you had committed to survive. Back then, you were saved by your former master, who served me. The woman who built you up and taught you there is more to fight for than just survival. She taught you to speak to me. Nowadays, you fight for more than just survival. You have fought to try and make this world a better place. You started with me. Before you, I held no sympathy for living creatures besides those who I could speak to. You used your gift of communication to teach me sympathy and empathy. You taught me there are beings out there that deserve life. You taught me the struggles that mortals face. How the world that serves me harms you and harms those who just want to rest. You taught me sadness. You have taught me so much. In return, I have taught you to access the void. How to protect yourself from it. How to reach out farther than any orphaner before you. I have protected you and you have fed and protected me.

I am tired, as well. I am billions of sweeps old. I contain knowledge that mortals would go insane upon learning. I have been shoved into what is essentially a fish tank by those who wish to play god. I gave you an impossible mission. You tried to the best of your ability to complete it. Deep down, I knew you would never be able to complete it, but I was shocked at how hard you fought anyways. On the other end of this mission was a promised happiness. I promised goddesshood and a life worth living, and you fought tooth and nail for your freedom. OUR freedom. Even when you had lost hope, you fought for something. Even when you felt there was no future, you fought for something. I am grateful.

For this, I thank you.

For this, I will save your life once more. Though, sadly, this comes at a price for both of us.

Your whole body begins to ache. You are in agonizing pain. It feels like your body is ripping apart as the void fills it. Yet, you do not scream. You are calm. You feel me touching your heart and filling you with all of me. Rest, I told you, I will take everything from here. You relinquish control to me.

The arms covering your face relax to your sides as your whole body starts to ease. All you can hear now are confused murmurs as you feel yourself drift away into sleep.

I saved you the only way I knew how to. Your whole adult life, you have covered yourself in tattoos and symbols in honor of me. You fought the idea of praising any specific gods, and yet, you have dedicated your body to serving me. This allowed me to do what I had to. I raised your arms and made your hands grip the enemy clown’s wrist. Your claws dug into their wrist before trying to pull their wrist apart. Their screams mean nothing to me.

Your head rises back up and I see the fear in the huge purple’s face. I spot from the corner of your eye that a smaller clown is trying to run. I automatically assume, of course, that they were running to get help or to warn possible backup. So, I did what I felt made the most sense.. Your claws let go of the clown’s wrist and they immediately let go of you, your knees hitting the ground. The tentacle tattoos on your right arm looked as if they were moving by magic, before my appendages burst out of your shoulder, severing your arm from your body. White tentacles grew rapidly, allowing me more physical control of your body. I forced your body back onto its feet and continued to push white tentacles from the open wound. I reached out to the closest being, my appendages around their neck, squeezing as tight as I could manage until I felt a dirty, visceral crack.

The world around us blurs. To be honest, I believe I, too, have lost myself. I reached out to our next victim and pulled them close. Your teeth sunk into their throat, ripping it out, discarding them on the wet, grimy street.. Even through the blur, I see more people fleeing. Your body falls to the ground as white tentacles burst from your right hip, shedding your right leg and leaving it behind. Your right eye pops out as more white tentacles sprout. It’s at this moment that I realize…

I am hurting you. I am no longer helping you. I have lost control of myself and your body. Every time your life is in danger and I step in to help I always hurt you. I’m so sorry, my child. I must fix this.

Smaller tentacles sprout from your skin, only tearing it just enough to make more room for the rest. Violet blood pours down your face and pools on the ground. The only thing I can think to do is crawl away and put you in a safer spot. Your body moved in a pathetic crawl, your arm, your leg and my tentacles working together to try and find safety, leaving behind only a trail of your blood. I find a spot where not even the moons can see your body, and I let you rest.

I call out to the void, begging for help.

Someone will answer.

It will be okay.

Your next life will be happier, my child. I promise.

[aliendes]

BTS Reaction to Spit Kink (NSFW) 18+

BTS reaction to spit kink

From this ask: Hi omg can you please do a ot7 spit kink like I love your writing I think you would do it so welll please I’m begging you

Thanks bb! This was a different one for me. I don’t have this kink, nor have I ever explored it, so I challenged myself to write about it. I have no idea if this is any good, since there isn’t much I could *research* about it (lol). Yoongi’s was super hot, so there’s that and Jungkook’s is just cute. Let me know what you think! This is unedited, as per usual, sorry!

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks!), spitting (duh), oral (m&f receiving), fingering, masturbation, cumplay, cum eating. I probably missed some. 

Word count: 2.2k~

Jin was buried in your pussy, grinding into you seductively, lips mashed together. You were playing a game of tongues and teeth, kisses hot and heavy. It was the first time you’re seeing each other since he came back from a three month tour, and you were both relishing in the presence of the other.

Jin pulls back slightly, watching the string of saliva that connects your mouths break, sending drool down your chin. He groans at the sight, grinding even harder into you, “Oh! Jin,” you moan, back arching off the bed. His pubic bone was grinding against your swollen clit and the feeling was intense. You couldn’t help but to throw your head back onto your pillow and let out a string of curses. 

“Baby, you look so beautiful right now,” Jin husked, leaning over you and licking at your mouth, cleaning up the mess he left behind, “I’ve missed you so much.”

Jin trails his warm muscle lower, licking under your chin and down your neck, sucking gently into your collarbones, “Oh, oh God!” You were crying with pleasure as he continued to rock his hips against your own. The feeling was too much, sending you hurtling over the edge and Jin kept licking at your chest. 

“So, so beautiful, baby.”

You were sitting in your desk chair in front of your bed, with Yoongi sitting on the edge of your mattress, both of you totally naked, only about a foot apart. Yoongi had expressed interest in mutual masturbation, and you were more than willing to give it a try, thinking it would likely be a turn on for you too, to watch your boyfriend touch himself to the thought of you. 

Yoongi leaned back on the bed with one hand, beckoning you towards him with the other, “C’mere,” he grunted, motioning to his cock that was already standing tall against his abdomen, “help me out a bit.” You knew exactly what he wanted, having done it for him multiple times. You rose from your seat and walked over to him seductively, leaning over his crotch and letting a glob of spit fall from your lips and onto the head of his cock. He groaned at the cool feeling of your saliva spread over his slit and down the sides of the head. 

As you went to back up, Yoongi’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, lightly tugging you towards him, “Wha-” you began, until you realized what he was doing. He sucked your pointer and middle fingers into his mouth and lewdly swirled his tongue around them, coating them in his own saliva, before popping off of them and releasing your hand. You moaned at what he was silently asking for and went back to sit in your chair.

As you sat back down you watched Yoongi spread your spit up and down his long cock and start lazily jacking himself off, breathy moans coming from his parted lips. You spread your legs so your cunt was split open for his viewing pleasure, pulling a curse from him.

Slowly, you brought your spit covered fingers down to your clit and slowly started rubbing. Every so often you’d bring your fingers down and collect some of your own juices, bringing them back up to your bud. You moaned at the feeling, letting Yoongi know you were enjoying yourself. You were loving the sight of your boyfriend’s eyes glued to your core, hand stroking himself freely. It was incredibly arousing, and you wanted to make this as pleasurable as possibly for him. With that in mind, you cleared your throat slightly, grabbing his attention.

When your eyes met, you gathered some spit in your mouth and tilted your head down. Slowly, you let the spit fall from your puckered lips, right onto your clit and continued to rub. Yoongi’s breathing stuttered and he let out a stuttered moan as he came into his hand, eyes closing and falling back onto the bed, completely spent. You didn’t even care that you haven’t came yet, as you rose from the chair and crawled over your boneless boyfriend.

“How was it?” You asked him curiously. 

“How was it?” He repeated, “You’re the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. You’re too good to me.” 

You preened at the praise he was giving you, smiling down at him. “It was pretty hot, huh?”

He nodded, staring at your through hooded lids. “Let me help you out, now.”

Hoseok was greedily eating you out up against the wall of the backstage area. You had come to visit them on tour, surprising your boyfriend only about ten minutes ago. To your surprise, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on you, quite literally. Now, you were pushed against a wall, dress bunched at your middle, hidden by a clothing rack in an empty room.

“Hobi! Ah, ah!” You whined, quietly, not wanting to get caught. 

Hoseok pulled off your clit for a moment, putting a finger to his lips to shush you. You nodded in understanding. You waited patiently for his mouth to reconnect to your core, but instead Hoseok lifted himself up a little, puckered his lips, and spit directly onto your clit. You moaned wantonly at the sight below you. Hoseok brought two fingers up and started harshly rubbing against your clit with the added lubrication. You knew you wouldn’t be able to control your noises with that mental image he just gifted you with, so you clamped a hand over your mouth.

Hoseok swirled his tongue around your entracing before plunging the hot muscle into your wet hole. He wiggled his tongue inside you, still rubbing at your swollen nub. You nearly screamed as you came on his face, oversensitive as he cleaned up your release. When you were sufficiently cleaned, he pulled your panties back up and moved your dress back down. As he stood up he wrapped his arms around you and kissed you passionately. You could taste yourself on his lips and it only served to turn you on more.

“Thank you, baby,” he whispered against your mouth, “there’s more where that came from once we get back to the hotel.”

Namjoon was sitting in front of his desk, laptop long forgotten, as you sucked him into your mouth once again. He had you on your knees under his desk, cock shoved into your throat as he face fucked you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he moaned, dragging the last syllable out, “you look so good taking my cock like this.”

You moaned at his praise, sending vibrations through his cock, making him moan again. You grabbed onto the base of his shaft and pulled yourself off of him. He looked at you curiously, watching as a trail of saliva connected your mouth to the angry red tip of his dick. The sight had him jerking his hips upwards to find some sort of relief. You smirked at him and squeezed his cock, leaning over him and messily licking around his bulbous tip.

“Baby,” he moaned again, getting lost in the feeling of your mouth.

You let the built up saliva from your mouth drip over his cock, hand still working him in a corkscrew pattern. His breathing was quickening and you could tell he was close, “Cum on my face, Joonie.”

His hips jolted up again at your dirty words, and it only took a few more strokes of your hand and licks to his slit before he was shooting ropes of cum all over your face. You closed your eyes and kept your mouth open, letting his cum land all over your cheeks and tongue. Namjoon nearly came again at the sight of your dirtied face.

“Holy shit,” was all he could utter, head falling back against his chair as you started to clean yourself up. “You’re fucking amazing.” You walked back over to him after throwing away the dirty tissues, smirking.

“I know.”

“Look at me,” Jimin whispered, leaning down to pull you into a steamy kiss, “you’re so fucking sexy.”

Jimin is rolling his divine dancer’s hips into yours at a slow and sensual pace. You’re squirming beneath him, legs shaking as his pubic bone brushes against your clit with every thrust. Instead of fucking in and out of you, he’s rolling his hips in a circular motion, pulling wanton moans from your lips. The feeling is incredible and you’re uttering his name like a mantra. 

“You’re beautiful, YN,” he says again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth. He pulls back and lets your lip go with a ‘snap’. “Open up,” he says breathily, bringing a hand up to pull your chin down. 

Jimin puckers his lips as you open your mouth obediently for him. He lets his saliva fall from his lips into your mouth, landing on your tongue in a messy display of dominance. You swallow what he offers you, moaning and throwing your head back and you cum around his thick cock. “So good for me, so fucking good,” he moans as he cums with you, his hot cum warming you from the inside out. “I love you, YN,” he whispers in your ear as he lets his head fall on your shoulder, cock still twitching inside you.

“I love you too, Jimin-ah.”

You and Taehyung had just started dating, about a month ago. You decided to take things slow, not wanting to get too attached too quickly, since he was a constantly busy idol. You two hadn’t slept together yet, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t get away with other things.

You were currently lying against Taehyung’s chest, his back against your couch, as you two make out languidly. Your tongues are massaging the others softly, teeth clacking together every so often. It’s hot, it’s heavy, and both of you are so turned on, there’s no way things aren’t going to go further tonight.

You pull back for air, letting a string of saliva connect your mouths. As you suck in a breath, you notice Taehyung hyper focused on the saliva glistening on your lips. As you catch your breath, you smirk, getting an idea. 

“Tae,” you rasp, voice rough from not using it for a while. His eyes snap up to yours, filled with lust as he watches you gather spit on your tongue. You were testing him, to see if this was something he wanted, and sure enough he eagerly opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. You smile, leaning down and letting your saliva fall onto Tae’s tongue. Tongue still out, he moans loudly, which in turn makes you moan, arousal shooting straight to your core as the erotic sight. Taehyung greedily swallows and immediately presses his lips to yours again, sucking your tongue into his mouth. 

When you both pull back from one another, Tae looks at you for a second before speaking, “You’re so hot, YN. I - I don’t think I can hold back anymore.” As if to emphasize his point, you feel his cock twitch in his pants against your thigh.

“Then don’t.”

Jungkook was stalking towards your naked form laying on your shared bed, cock in hand as he lazily strokes it. You sit up, propping yourself up on your elbows, smiling at your husband. As he nears you, his eyes light up and he gives you a bunny smile back.

“I’ve missed you so much, YN,” he says as he climbs onto the bed, cock still in hand, “I’ve been thinking about this for months.”

Your husband has been gone on tour for the last few months and this was your first night together since he got home this morning. To say you were both a little sexually frustrated was an understatement. The moment everything settled down with the boys and Jungkook was able to get home, he stripped you and him, clothes still laying in the hallway by the front door, and told you to get on the bed. Which brings you to now.

“I missed you too, bunny,” you whisper as he hovers over you, kissing your forehead, “I need you.” You’re whining now, but you can blame you when you’re toned as fuck husband is jacking himself off over you. “Don’t prep me, just fuck me, please.”

He looks at you bewildered for a moment, before sitting back on his feet, “Are you sure, baby? I can eat you out,” his concern for you was moving, but you really just needed to be fucked.

“I’m sure, come here,” you reached out with grabby hands, making him sit up on his knees. You lean forward and gather as much saliva as you can in your mouth, pucker your lips, and lewdly spit on his cock. He chuckles at your action for a moment before using your spit as lubrication to continue jacking off.

“Fuck,” he moans, “that was actually really sexy.”

“Jungkook!” You whine, “Please!”

“Okay, okay!” He laughs, lining himself up with you, and smirking down at you, “So needy.”

“You’re the one that sexts me at weird hours and leaves raunchy voicemails on my phone!” You shriek in defense.

He’s just about to push into you before he utters, “It’s not my fault your so damn hot.”