#i hate the feeling of cold things touching my skin generally

[glacierruler]

That feeling of boredom in between boiling one large pot of water multiple times to take a hot bath because your water heater is broken is not fun. Because it boils quick enough that while I can draw, if I'm doing something precise that I need to keep the app open for, I can't or else I mess with the time I actually spent drawing. But there's really nothing else I can do.

[sp4ceboo]

Atonement: Feyd-Rautha x Reader

A/N: fic i wrote with @triluvial 's lovely idea

tw: 18+, smut but pretty soft, oral (f recieving), so so so so much angst, fluff after tho dw, swearing, hints of sa and pedophilia from the baron, baron is also creepy to reader but not explicitly, u gotta bear with my yapping in the beginning but it gets good i promise, inkpie

wc: 3.9k

headcanons for this universe

When you married Feyd-Rautha, you were warned of many things. His cruelty, both in and out of the bedroom, his bloodlust, his uncontrollable rage, his violence, his complete and utter lack of mercy. They told you he was psychotic, he was a cold blooded murderer, he was insatiable and that you’d be lucky to last a year with him, and yet, they never cautioned you of his sheer, unerring indifference.

Before your marriage, you fancied that he’d be like fire; raging, searing to touch. You went as far as to wish to tame his inferno. Late at night, when you could not sleep and doubt wreathed your thoughts, you also considered that he’d be like ice, like the colour of his piercing eyes, glacial and cold, devoid of anything soft or sweet.

As a child, you saw him fight in the arena. There he blazed with passion, his victor’s smile a cruel curve upon his face, his knife blade stained dark with fresh blood: he was mesmerising. At that time you were beginning to understand that your future had been sold to this violent man, and you resented your parents for it - now you realise that it went deeper than that, that it was rooted in generations of religion, of whisperings of the Bene Gesserit. Still, even then, you found the way he burned intriguing, and you were drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

But you were wrong. He turned out to be neither fire nor ice, just stingingly, dismissively apathetic. His eyes slide right over you when he happens to pass you in the corridors, as if you’re lower than a servant, lower than the rare rats that survive Giedi Prime’s conditions. You suspected your marriage would be painful, wedded to a man such as he was, but you didn’t think it would be this damn lonely.

You wished he hated you.

That way, at least you’d mean something to your husband. At least then vehement, savage emotion would rise within his gaze whenever he looked at you, not that horrible, polarising blankness. You wish you disgusted him, because then he’d at least he’d speak his mind - you had learnt that he spoke with brutal honesty, uncaring of the consequences.

Maybe to him, that’s all you are. A consequence of being high born, of being the na-Baron. You mean nothing to him, and he treats you as such; to him, you are less than the speck of dust on the floor, less than a grain of sand in his beloved arena.

It’s not that you wish for him to dote on you, nor love you or devote himself to you. You just wish he would look you in the eye and feel something; you’d rather him stare at you in revulsion and call you names that you can’t even think up yourself than the dead, lifeless detachment that clouds his face when he sees you in your shared chambers.

Feyd-Rautha has never laid a hand on you in violence; in fact he rarely touches you at all. The last, and only time he kissed you was during the wedding day, and he makes no moves to be in bodily contact with you any more than he has to be. You are obliged to produce an heir from him, yet even in these infrequent encounters it seems as if it is a chore for him - he takes no pleasure in your body nor does he try to pleasure you, and he makes no sound when he takes you, staying as long as it takes for his seed to fill your womb before leaving without a word. On those nights, your thighs tremble as you stumble to the bathroom, only allowing your tears to fall once the shower water is searing on your skin.

During the first month of your marriage, you did everything in your power to please him. You thought maybe you weren’t pretty enough for him, maybe you were not desirable as a wife, so you always smiled at him, made an effort to fill the silence that pervaded the air around him, bringing up topics you knew he would enjoy, like the arena, like his love for knives and duels. To even that he would not reply, rebutting your questions with monosyllables or simply ignoring you. You stopped once he began to leave the room while you were mid sentence.

It is now your fourth month locked in this marriage with an uncaring man, and all you feel is bleak, crushing resignation. Somehow, Feyd-Rautha seems to take more interest in conversing with his brother than you.

You wonder if he has forgotten your name. He addresses you simply as ‘wife’ - that, and nothing more, the title leaving his lips like an accusatory curse, reminding you that if you did not serve a purpose to him, and if decorum did not restrain him, he’d have disposed of you by now, either by slitting your throat or simply abandoning you outside the palace grounds, not even bothering to end you himself.

The palace in question is lonely, but you feel the loneliest when you lay awake at night, shivering on your side of the bed as Feyd-Rautha slumbers to your right. Tears always prick your eyes during those moments, but you stifle them, afraid that you’ll rouse him with your crying; you do not know what you’ve done to garner his mistrust, but many times you’ve glimpsed the knife he keeps beneath his pillow, the cold blade glinting in the moonlight.

Often you wonder if he has a secret lover, and that is why he does not bother with you. You wake up sometimes and he is gone, but soon you realised that he would visit his concubines, especially after he had bred you. You would finish your shower, unable to wash off the feel that you were dirty, you were just an animal, a mindless thing to produce an heir for him, and he would be lounging in the antechambers of your quarters, ignoring your presence with the three harpies wrapped around him, whispering in his ears and caressing his moonlight skin. They accompanied him everywhere he wished, even in public, and to begin with, you felt humiliated that he would so explicitly show that you were not to his satisfaction.

Now, it just makes the solitude even worse.

You find solace in no one. More than once, you have walked in on the servants laughing behind your back, and as it became evident your husband was uninterested in you, they did not hide their mocking. The Baron’s other nephew you hardly saw, and the Baron himself terrified you: there was something in the way that he stared at you, his beady eyes glittering from where they were set deep within his putrid flesh, that made you feel more soiled than even after Feyd-Rautha took you.

So you remain isolated, speaking only when spoken to, drifting through the palace’s wide, dark hallways like a ghoul, a mourning spectre. You can barely remember your life before, just wisps and fleeting flashes of colour that ridicule rather than comfort you.

To Feyd, it is obvious who you are. A spy, commanded by his uncle to report every single one of his doings to you; he cannot slip up once around you, cannot reveal his weaknesses, that he is desperate to be loved, to be seen as someone whose only use is not war. He sees the way his uncle looks at you, hungry for information you do not have because he does not impart it, the way the Baron comments on you and the way you flinch at his words, pretending that you do not report to him.

Feyd is determined in his resolve to give nothing away. His uncle has held power over him since he was young, he refuses to give him even an inch over him now. He still has nightmares of it, which he wakes up from with his pale skin sheened in clammy sweat, clammy like the hands of his uncle.

Sometimes, he sees the tears in your eyes after he fucks you. The first time, he almost stopped, almost asked you where it hurt, but you turned away before he could, acting, always acting; acting when you smile graciously at him, acting when you ask him what his favourite type of blade is, what his favourite form of swordsmanship is. You are good at pretending, but of course you are - his uncle is the Baron, a man who bathes in power. No doubt he would get only the best of spies.

Tonight, you are not where you normally are. At this hour, you are usually asleep, or feigning it in the very least, curled up small on your side of the mattress, yet the bed is still made, the sheets unrumpled and smoothed down as they were this morning. Feyd thinks that maybe he might catch you reporting to his uncle, so he strides out of your shared chambers, pausing in the doorway to listen carefully; as a boy, he hunted in forests that have now been chopped down and industrialised, but he has maintained his keen ears long after the last wild plant on Giedi Prime’s surface choked on the fumes of pollution.

There’s a soft noise, barely perceptible, that echoes down the corridor to his right. Silently, he tracks it down the labyrinthine passages of the palace, servants scurrying out of his warpath, bowing their heads to him - he wonders if they too report to his uncle, if they travel now to his quarters to inform him of his beloved nephew’s whereabouts.

Feyd wishes he and Rabban were brothers first before rivals. Then he could have someone to rely on, someone who he trusted in this palace built on lies.

Pausing, Feyd cocks his head. You huddle in a crumpled heap at the end of the corridor, your knees hugged tightly to your chest, head low as if under a crushing weight. It occurs to him that maybe the Baron was displeased with your efforts to gain information and made it known to you - a pang of pity tugs at him, for he knows what his uncle’s wrath is like. At least you have been spared from the sole thing worse than that - the Baron’s thirst.

‘What are you doing, wife?’

Your head snaps up, Feyd-Rautha’s unfeeling voice kindling a rare burst of temper from you. Is it not evident to him what you are doing? Or is he just too blind to see the tears streaking down your cheeks? Your words are injected with venom when you speak, and you hope that it stings him for leaving you alone in this cold, dark place.

‘So now I am of concern to you?’

Feyd is taken aback by the indignant arch of your brows, the resentment displayed in your eyes. It takes him a moment to register the harshness lacing your voice - you have never addressed him in this way - and another to digest your words. There’s a bleakness in your wet, tear stained face as you stare up at him, and shock too, as if you did not expect yourself to speak against him this way.

Something clicks into place.

Feyd recognises that look in your eyes. He recognises it, because he’s seen it in the mirror a hundred times before; haunted, harrowed, lonely. He remembers nights when he trembled beneath the cold sheets of his bed, when he was small enough that he felt like he was drowning in the black satin, his eyes wide as the fabric seemed to wend around his limbs, tying him there as he lay fearful of everyone, fearful that his uncle would summon him. Even young, he was so terribly aware of not knowing who he could trust and who would turn to the Baron, bearing information like knives to split open his childish skin and spill his guts on the freezing stone floor.

It broke him. He is barely a shell of a sentient being, repressed emotions wreathing like ghosts around his frame, his eyes hollow, his heart decaying. In his fear, he was blinded, and he pushed you to the place where he had been all those years ago, so terribly, terribly alone - you are stronger than him, for lasting this long.

Sharp, plunging, dread sinks in his stomach, weighs down his soul; he has done unspeakable things to you, treated you like a dog, like a whore - worse. How can you look at him without hatred in your eyes, spite?

Bile rises in his throat, his heart seized by a dark, burning anger. He has done this to you, he has slashed your skin and left you bleeding, and yet all you did was try to please him. In an effort to save himself, he trampled you under foot; in order to keep you out, he left you surrounded by shadows. Feyd has never hated himself so much, has never despised who he has become with this much furor.

Slowly, he crouches before you. Eyes wide, you shrink away, misreading the direction of his rage, flinching when he reaches out a hand. Pressing your back against the wall behind you, you turn your head away from him, fear causing tears to spill down your cheeks: he sees the way you will the stone to swallow you up, knows the feeling.

‘Please don’t hurt me,’ you choke out, hands trembling uncontrollably.

Something deep within Feyd’s soul withers and dies at your words. Forcing his jaw to unclench, his hands to release the fists they held, he shoves down his anger. The fury is for later, for when he has made things right - for now it is you that is his priority. Too late, a voice whispers in his ears, too late, too late, too late -

Gods, he deserves to burn at the fucking stake for this. He deserves eternal hell for this, he deserves worse. He is a fool: a blind, blundering fool, stuffed to the brim with paranoia and cynicism.

He sucks in a breath. ‘I will not hurt you. You have my word, whatever it is worth to you. I - I have made an irredeemable mistake, I - ’

After his first sentence, you have not heard him. Tears of relief soak your face, and you whisper needless apologies for them; it is an arrow through his heart that you fear him so - yet the pain is where it is due, justifiable for the way he has shamed you, belittled you.

‘May I - may I touch you, my wife?’

You do not know why you nod in reply of your husband’s strange request, but the moment you do, strong arms pull you into a solid chest, and a sob leaves you - he is so warm, warm enough to banish the seeping cold embedded in your bones, warm enough to let your sorrow flow anew, soaking his shirt as your hands bunch in its fabric, so that if he is cruel enough to leave you here, at least he will have to fight to do so. You have not been held in a long time.

Each of your shuddering sobs is a knife blade twisting in Feyd’s spirit. He lets the pain wash over him, clings to the way you burrow into his arms, a kind creature in the embrace of a monster. At one point, in the throes of your crying, you beat at his chest, telling him that you hate him, and he takes it with a bowed head, stroking your hair and holding you tighter once you exhaust yourself; this is only a fraction of his atonement.

You fall asleep in his arms. He carries you back to your quarters, and only once the door is closed behind him does he let his tears mingle with yours. Keeping you cradled to his chest like a child, he pours a glass of water for you to drink in the morning, knowing you will be dehydrated; he sets it on your bedside table before laying you down on the mattress.

You don’t let go of him, even in your sleep. His heart clenches, tight in his chest, and he drops a kiss in your hair before lying down beside you.

He believes he will love you, if you will let him.

Consciousness leaks slowly into your mind, and you blink, squinting through the beam of light that filters in through the curtains. From your months spent here, you’ve realised that Giedi Prime’s atmosphere is normally churned up with violent storms and choked with pollution, so this ray of sun that falls against your pillow, warming your face is far from unwanted - nor is the pale forearm tucked around your waist, firmly so, but not trapping you either.

Your husband’s chest fits snugly against your back, his breath warm and steady against your skin; his fingers splay out across your stomach, gentle, communicating so many things that were left unsaid. Vaguely, you remember falling asleep, nestled against his chest, tears drying on your cheeks.

When you roll over, you’re unsurprised that he’s already awake. With blue eyes softened by the sunlight, he regards you, fingers settled at the small of your waist. Something clouds his gaze, and he shifts, propping himself up on his elbows.

‘I owe you an explanation.’

You wait silently, unperturbed by the way he clenches his jaw. He vowed to you last night that he would not hurt you, and you trust that. Wordlessly, his lips open, then close, and you patiently watch him, far too well acquainted with how this man struggles to let down his guard - even now, you cannot read the twisting of his features, the way his eyes squint as he looks at you.

‘I - I thought you were a spy sent by my uncle,’ he finally confesses. ‘My uncle… when I was younger, he,’

Reaching out, you cup his jaw in your hand, running your thumb along his cheekbone until he relaxes. You see the battle in his eyes, to let go, to tell you the knowledge that he thinks you deserve, but you see with it the years of hurt, of solitude. Something hopeful, something beautiful blossoms within you - the realisation that this wounded beast before you is someone that you could grow to love; you want him to bare his scars to you, those that are long healed and those that still seep with blood.

‘All in good time, Feyd,’ you assure him quietly.

He sighs, touches his lips against your palm. ‘I am sorry, my wife.’

Slipping your hand down to grip his shoulder, you lean closer towards him so you can kiss him. An anguished sound leaves him, and you see clearly how he realises that he has wronged you, how it pains him, and yet how the taste of you awakens something tender within him - you marvel at it, that it has survived, buried within him for so long. Perhaps he will let you love him.

Feyd is neither forward nor insatiable in the way he kisses you. In fact, he pulls away first, moving to get up from the bed despite the way your hands grip his shoulders, and you almost doubt that he wants you before you glimpse the longing in his eyes that lingers before he pushes it down. You wonder if this man knows how to make love or if he just knows how to fuck, you wonder if he feels the same molten feeling in his stomach that you feel and that is why his movements are tinged with nerves as he gently escapes your grasp. It is clear to you: he does not want to scare you.

‘Must you go?’ You ask, tugging at his fingers.

He tilts his head. ‘I don’t know if you want me here, after what I have inflicted upon you.’

A streak of bravery takes ahold of you. ‘Please, Feyd, I want you.’

You delight at the fire that ignites in his eyes upon your words. He wastes no time in returning to your side, dropping a sweet tasting kiss to your lips before taking your chin in his hand, eyes searching yours as he sits between your thighs.

‘Tell me if you want to stop,’ he says. ‘Yes?’

‘Yes,’ you echo, blood heating your cheeks.

Feyd kisses you again, giving you time to rescind your reply if you want, but you just tug at the hem of his shirt, drinking in his sculpted chest when he pulls the black cloth over his head. Delicately, he trails his lips down your skin as he undresses you, his broad hands warm where they encircle your waist, holding you flush to him as his calloused palms explore your body, skimming over your spine and caressing your breasts before settling on your thighs and pulling them open.

You’re terribly aware of how wet you are when his eyes settle on your pussy. Instinctively, your knees tip inwards, your face growing hot at the hunger in his gaze, but his broad shoulders block your legs from closing, followed closely by his hands which gently push them back open. He smiles at the blush high on your cheeks, rubbing his thumb over your ankle in order to put you at ease.

The sound you make when he pushes his fingers into your cunt and curls them almost makes Feyd moan. You tremble for him, bashful, and he can feel himself rock hard against the mattress, aching for the tight clamp of your velvet walls. He wants to bury himself between your thighs, and so he does, your sweet slick exquisite on his tongue - he presses kisses like butterflies to your thighs, your hips, worshipping you as his fingers pump in and out of you to the same pace as your heaving chest.

You look beautiful, gilded by the sunlight, lower lip trapped between your teeth, but he doesn’t miss the way you grip the sheets with one hand, the other clapped over your mouth, panting as he pleases you. Stroking your thigh, he pauses, licking your slick off his lips.

‘Let me hear you,’ he bids.

You blush again but obey him, tremors wracking your body as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over it until you throw your head back, eyes rolling as you come, your honeyed moans and hot release exquisite upon his senses. He wants more, needs more of the taste of you, but you tug at his shoulders, whining for his cock, and he’d rather die than deny you.

The way you say his name when he buries himself inside you sets his soul on fire. You look beautiful beneath him, shaking and whimpering from the hot pulse of his length, clawing at his shoulders until he wears red marks that he’s proud to bear, moaning into his mouth when he kisses you. It seems you cannot get enough of him, and Feyd is more than fine with that because he finds himself addicted to the feel of you under his hands, begging him for more.

Feyd remains entranced long after he comes inside you, with you, your cunt spasming around him. You draw close to him, intertwining your legs with his as he kisses your face, your neck, your chest, making sure he has not hurt you, making sure you are sated. Curling your fingers under his jaw, stopping him, you look him in the eye and smile before kissing him, and he finds himself mesmerised again by you.

He is certain you will let him love you. He is yours.

[helenazbmrskai]

Mating Act (m)

Title [Mating Act]

Pairing [Alien! Yoongi x Human Slave! Reader]

Genre [Alien AU, Sci-fi, Smut, Angst, Fluff]

Summary [You make two choices that change your life entirely. First, you make a choice when you decide to save a family and get kidnapped instead of them, the second you make is when you force imprinting on an alien that takes one wife in his life which you decide will be only you.]

Words [5,2k]

Warnings [General warnings: slavery, bad treatment, dystopia setting, human trafficking, Sexual content: playful neck grabbing, teasing, sexual tension, first-time sex, dirty talk, manhandling, mention of human and wife a lot, alien anatomy (black ink, coldness and a very hard, big and cold dick also magic saliva), fingering, oral (f and m), unprotected sex, belly bulge, size kink, positions (cock riding, doggy, missionary), y/n cries that is how good she feels, overstimulation, buckets of cum, creampie(s), begging, blow job, possessive alien yoongi]

Rating [+18]

A/N: I’m very excited to share this with you guys since I think this would be a great successor to my previous work that many of you liked called “Mating Season” It’s kind of the same but entirely different. This story is in the same universe but it takes place before mating season!

Masterlist //

Your scrunched eyes open slowly, first, you only see a blinding light your ears focus on the cracking sound of neon. It’s cold and you’re not wearing enough clothes for the cool temperature. It takes a few seconds for your senses to return to you and then you can fixate on your surroundings, it’s outdoors and midday as you see the sun going up high in the purplish blue sky.

It seemed that by the time you were unconscious, you arrived at the slave trading planet. The light grey iron bars are cold to the touch and it’s extremely noisy out there. Different species roam the cells it might be hundreds if not thousands of cells lined up for sale, and you’re one of them: a rare find, a human.

Your introduction is displayed for the buyers in numerous languages. There are a few that you speak so you can read it with ease: female human, breedable, young. You hate how the aliens size you up some even get threateningly close until you back up. They openly talk about you thinking that you can’t understand a single thing. Humans are stupid and weak. You’re a race that is almost at extinction. Only a few of you are left and your life expectancy is around eighty years old, it’s short compared to others but all too long for you humans. You managed to survive this long which is a miracle on its own. How pathetic of you to get caught in international body trafficking because you decided to save someone. At least you hope that the family you tried to protect is safe somewhere else you don’t have anything left to protect so you accept your faith.

Deep in your thoughts, you thought you lost all faith in survival. You don’t have anything to go back to but you’re still unable to give up.

You still don’t want to die.

Your defiant gaze meets with a young male. Shorter than his friends he has bland black hair with the same eyes that almost look human. You know that he’s not one of your own though he speaks a different language with his friends and has weird marking on his skin that looks exotic in your eyes.

“Do you like her?” A man next to him stops to read your description. They almost look sorry for you as they see you behind the cell.

“No.” Black hair says without giving it a second. His eyes bore into yours and when he decides to stop looking at you you make a second split decision. You’re going to choose him. Your hands grip the bars as you get as close to him as you can. It’s been a long time since you used that language but you have to try.

“Take me.” They can clearly understand your words, you speak their language. You point at the black-haired man.

“Oh, it seems to like you Yoongi.” A friendly voice slaps him on the shoulders. They talk animatedly among each other finding you intriguing. Books say that the human race is stupid and weak but you look none of those things. His friends encourage Yoongi to get closer to you and for once you don’t step back as he approaches after a little push in your direction. His hands grab onto the bars before he can regain his posture and you use that opportunity to put your hands on his. His hand is cold to the touch the cold blue veins on his hands are in contrast to his pale white skin.

“Yoongi.” You call out the word you heard them say that you think might be his name.

“We’re running out of time. Let’s take her and leave.” A man speaks up his eyes fixated on the holo panel that shows the time and some kind of message. He has some weird-looking glass in his eyes, you think he might be the captain of the ship. You’ve seen that type of accessory somewhere before.

“I didn’t say I will buy it.” Yoongi pulls his hand away like you dirtied him. You rack your brain on how to make him take you with him. Black hair and black eyes, cool skin and vine-like black ink make you think of a race. You loved to read books this is how you taught yourself a few of those languages and you remember reading about his species once. This decision might take you closer to your end but it will be better than rotting in this place so you grab his clothes and smash your lips on his through the tiny gap between the bars.

A race that takes one wife in his lifetime. You’re going to bet on that.

Your tongue forcefully enters his mouth using his surprise against him to successfully imprint your taste on him. After his mind catches up he pushes you away so hard that you land on your butt. His eyes almost look feral as he watches you, he’s very angry but closes his eyes to push the feeling down.

“Get up.” You haul yourself up from the floor getting close to him despite his hard gaze on you. You don’t flinch when he grabs your hair and pulls you close so that your faces are inches away from each other.

“You want to come, then come.” It’s not a calm and collected sentence that he whispers so close to you. It sounds like a threat but you smile and nod. Even if he hates you he has an obligation to you. With that kiss you sealed your fate with his, you’re his. His one and only human wife for all eternity.

Your back collides with the wall behind you as soon as you see your kidnapper his torture that you had to endure is replaying in the forefront of your mind as he fiddles with the cell keys your hostility is not lost on the young men that wait for your release. Yoongi paid for you in digital cash don’t have more time to waste.

He intends to take you with him so he asks for the ownership process to be sped up.

The kidnapper yanks you out of the cell not caring about how you almost land on your face through the force he uses. Yoongi catches you easily lifting you in his arms. You forced him into accepting you but he still does his job of protecting you. His glare is not meant for you this time as he looks displeased by your idle treatment right in front of him. His big hands are curled around you in pretence protection. You must be crazy because you actually relax in his secure hold.

“Hi.” One of his friends gets your attention as he waves. He looks at you with curious eyes he seems like he has a lot of questions for you.

“Hello.” You reply in a hoarse voice. You don’t remember the last time you ate or drank something.

“What’s your name? I’m Hoseok.” He points at you and then at himself. It’s nice of him to talk slowly so you have time to interpret his words. No one else speaks to you as you go. Probably on their way to their ship since one of them implied some important business. Yoongi doesn’t look at you but his hands are firm around you.

“Y/N.”

“Your name is weird.” Hoseok slaps his friend but you don’t take it in the wrong way. Of course, for them, a human name will sound weird.

“You’re being rude Taehyung.” Hoseok scolds the other guy before he turns back to you swaying in Yoongi’s arms. “I think your name is pretty and you speak our language pretty well. How did you learn it? On Earth?”

You shake your head. If you think about your home planet your heart starts aching. “No. I taught myself reading books.”

Now his other friend looks interested in the conversation. The one who has that weird-looking glass.

“Fascinating, to find a smart human like you. I want to run some tests.” Hearing that crazy scientist talk again brings back bad memories as your face becomes uncomfortable and your relaxed figure goes rigid inside Yoongi’s arms. He could feel you tense up in fear and he reacted by holding you more firmly to his chest.

“You’re scaring her. Stop it.” This is the first thing he says after he bought you. Namjoon looks sheepish and apologises and even Hoseok reassures you that he’s just not good with words and you won’t be a lab rat at all.

You accept their apology. You think they mean well and are quite friendly to your utter surprise. They seem like good guys. You feel like it’s a good time to reveal some of your thoughts.

“Just because you read my description doesn’t mean you know anything about me. I wouldn’t reveal anything that would put me at a disadvantage. This is how I could survive until now.” The words taste sour in your mind and you think about all the things you had to do and endure just to be here. Was it worth it? This life. You have thought about it more times than you would have liked to admit.

“It must have been hard for you.” Hoseok shows you empathy and you give him a smile back in silent thanks.

“Why did you choose Yoongi?” A younger male looks at you with curious eyes. They don’t show it but this is the question they all were curious about all along. Even Yoongi perks up when he thinks you’re not looking.

“My instinct told me to trust him.” As for why, you don’t know either. You saw countless men and women walk in front of your cage but you only wanted him to buy you. The moment his eyes unknowingly lingered on you you decided to go with him. He must have felt something too. You saw him before he saw you. He never looked at anyone else but you. If you ask him he will probably deny it but you’re sure of it.

You probably looked desperate. Now that you replay your impulsive behaviour in your mind colour blooms on your cheeks in embarrassment. You learned how to kiss from a book it didn’t occur to you before but what if you were a bad kisser? You started spiralling until your surroundings faded and you locked yourself inside your head. You didn’t register when you arrived on board or when he carried you to his room.

You shiver when he puts you down on his bed. The temperature of his room is colder than you’re used to.

You panic when he tugs your clothes without a word. You grab his cold hands and look into his eyes with widened ones. He looks back at you with predatory. You once read that humans had a ceremony to be pronounced wife and husband. You never experienced it as a human but it sounded romantic.

Thinking back on what you read.

Yoongi is an alien. His species only takes one wife and their ritual is different from yours. The road to becoming his wife is simple enough.

“Look at you being surprised. As if you didn’t know what you did when you kissed me first.” You didn’t know, you just acted impulsively without thinking. You wanted to say that to him but only a gasp left your lips as he pushed you down on his large bed. He won’t listen to any of your pathetic excuses now.

“You forced my hands. Even if you don’t want it anymore you have no other choice but to be mine.” You gulp down the saliva that accumulated in your mouth, his fierce eyes pin you to the spot lying helplessly under him. His hand is so cold as he wraps it around your neck gently he can feel your heartbeat accelerate under his palm. He studies your features taking in every inch of you from head to toe. Committing everything about you to memory. Yoongi curls a few locks of your long hair around his fingers inhaling your scent his nose rubs against your pulse point. Your hands hold onto his waist digging your fingers onto his side but he doesn’t care about it as he kisses the skin on your neck.

You’re dirty and dishevelled in appearance your captor was not kind to his prisoners and you look like a shell of yourself after everything that you’ve been through. Your average beauty doesn’t matter to Yoongi. He’s going to take you regardless of how beautiful you look in other's eyes or not. The kiss already sealed your fate as his bride. Imprinting your taste on him means that he can’t escape you. While Yoongi wants to take you right then and there he realises that you need to be in a better shape to undertake the ritual. He did get a reaction rise out of you. So amusingly innocent.

“Take a shower, you reak.” You awkwardly look to the side unable to meet with his confident smirk. He likes to watch your face turn red. He pulls away from you and you take in a long-needed breath of fresh air. The coldness seeping back into your body makes you sober up and you scurry to his joined bathroom. Yoongi laughs as he sees you hide behind the door he makes sure you can operate the shower before he goes out to get some food for you. You don’t have any clothes to wear but you’re at least clean.

You find a clean cloth to wrap around your body in makeshift clothes it’s better than nothing as you need something to shield you from the cold.

Yoongi comes back before you can organize your thoughts. You could barely calm your heart as your mind kept replaying his soft lips on your neck and his body weight on you not to talk about those alluring black eyes. You could still see your reflection in them as you lock gazes. You look away when he puts the tray down in front of you full of food that you don’t know the name of. It’s not too bad once you take a bite but it’s bland the more you consume. It meets the purpose of filling you up as you no longer feel that gnawing hunger in the pit of your stomach.

You jolt up when you feel his hand pull your wet hair to the other side making his way to your neck. He takes a long whiff of air finally smelling your natural scent that was previously masked by the dirt and sweat. He takes the opportunity to cover you in his scent rubbing his nose up and down your throat.

You can’t concentrate on eating anymore.

“Eat. You will need it.” As if he could read your mind he halts all movements simply deciding on laying his head on your shoulder. You pick up more food and try to ignore how his possessive touch engulfs your body in a backhug. You remember how angry he became once you forcibly kissed him he even pushed you hard enough to lose your footing. The way he accepted you is too sudden.

“Are you going to …” Unable to say the words you stop in the middle.

“Am I going to fuck you? Yes, I will.” You gulp.

“Don’t you hate me for kissing you?” You close your eyes when Yoongi wraps his fingers around your neck again this time with more force but gentle enough that you’re not choking on air he just pulls you against his chest holding you by the neck as his nose rubs against your left cheek.

“I am angry. You selfishly decided this on your own. I bet you don’t realise half of the mess you got yourself into. I don’t hate you though. There’s something about you that caught my eye.”

It’s only a small peck on your cheek but your hands tighten around the tray. You take in a much-needed breath when you realise he doesn’t hate you. It makes you feel better knowing that it’s not entirely your imagination. He did look at you.

“I admit I don’t know much.” You sheepishly reply confirming his words. You read some things about his species but there’s no proof that everything is accurate.

“It doesn’t matter as you will be mine anyway.” His hand pulls you close his fingers splayed over your stomach. You only have a thin cloth over your naked body while Yoongi is fully clothed.

“Put down the tray.” You follow his order bending down slightly to put the tray down onto the floor. You let out a surprised yelp when his hands find your ass under the thin material, your backside is on full display for his hungry eyes. Your fingers have a deadly grip on the edge of the bed as he kneads the soft flesh.

“Your smell comes strongly from here.” His thumb parts your folds some wetness is gathered there that sticks to his finger when he pulls back. “I read a few books about you too, enough to know that this means you like the idea of me fucking you.”

Yoongi hates how he can’t see you acting coy biting your lip so he forcibly pulls you back against his chest and pulls your face to the side. You land on his lap your legs dangling on either side of his thighs. He runs his finger up and down your wetness watching your expression turn hazy and your mouth open to let out a silent moan.

“You like this don’t you? Having your human pussy touched by me.” Yoongi finds your clit quickly finding out how your moans increase in volume when he rubs circles over it. You’re gushing over his fingers.

The black ink on his arms moves to stain your body with blackness until it circles over your thigh in two pretty hoops. Your body is getting overheated as his touches devour your body. Fingers dance around your folds, your hips. The black hoops around your ankles and thighs are a reminder of what you started. You’re going to become Yoongi’s and no one can stop that from happening.

Feeling overwhelmed you reach up to kiss him and he does with a growl. He doesn’t push you away like when you stole his first kiss. No. He pulls you closer turning you around until you’re chest to chest.

Your hand rests against his shoulders your fingernails digging into his skin as you feel one of his fingers enter you without warning. Yoongi swallows your sounds with his mouth pushing his finger in and out of your pussy until your essence is running down his wrist. He adds another one and another one stretching your walls as he devours your mouth your hips moving along without you noticing. Getting into the rhythm of riding his fingers. You need to pull back to get some air in between the kisses. His hungry expression manages to steal your last remaining string of sanity. The cloth around you barely covers you anymore and Yoongi goes to remove it and leave you entirely naked before him.

His attention goes to your perky nipples both hands grabbing a handful and pepper kisses around the mound.

So far he doesn’t look strange. Not that you have any experience of what you should see in a situation like this. You conclude that your newly formed tattoos are one of the few things that are specific to his race.

His tongue is cold it makes you shiver when he sucks on one of your nipples. He’s so cold but his coolness is welcomed by your feverish body.

“Lay down.” You do as he tells you. Eagerly and shamelessly open your legs and welcome him between them. This is really happening you realise when he takes off his clothes. His pale skin is pretty and cool against you. Even his cock lined with cold blue veins is pretty and cold when he rubs it between your folds. It’s big and hard like a rock against you. Yoongi can see how you tense up after seeing his size.

“It won’t hurt if you do as I tell you.” He caresses your cheek with his thumb kissing you surprisingly sweetly.

“O-okay.” You nod. You wanted this. You can’t back down now. This is your only chance to live a life without hardships. You’re going to take everything that he gives you.

“This will make it feel better.” Yoongi licks his finger and when it comes into contact with your clit you feel an overwhelming pleasure bloom inside you. His saliva is heightening your pleasure having some kind of chemical in it that helps you feel kind of high. It blocks the pain when his veiny head pushes through the tight rim of your muscle. You and Yoongi watch how his long cock disappears in you inch by inch. It doesn’t hurt at all as he keeps his thumb on your clit, only making you feel full.

“Too much.” You put your hand on your stomach and feel him sitting inside. He makes way no matter how much your body tries to constrict around the intrusion. He reaches your deepest part shaping you into his size.

“There. All in.” Yoongi chuckles when he sees you struggle. You want to stay still and move at the same time. It feels good and strange but too good. You want him to move but on the other hand, you need time to get accustomed to this fullness. Yoongi can see the outline of his cock bulge out of your tummy and he experimentally pushes against your skin. Your pussy pulse around him and get tighter as he massages your lower belly. “How does it feel my little human? Do you feel good?”

You nod kissing him back with passion as your tongues rub together. He continues his descent down your body kissing your neck and breasts. Filling your body with pretty black ink. You pulse and throb around him as he remains unmoving inside you. Not enough you roll your hips trying to show him you want him to move.

“Answer me. Does my cock make you feel good?” At first, he only pulls out a little before he thrusts back testing the waters before he pulls out more as he uses a steady pace to rock into you.

“Yes. Yes. So good please don’t stop. Fuck me harder.” Yoongi wonders how his wife learned how to say such dirty words in his language but he’s thankful for it as his cock appreciates the compliments. Just like you asked he fucks you harder hitting that spot inside you with more deep thrusts.

“Yoongi. Yoongi.” The way you moan his name spurs him on, grabbing your ankles he sinks the remaining inch inside you.

“Ah. Y/N.” He responds with your own name. Grabbing your hips he pumps his cock in and out of you at a fast pace until you can remember his shape. This is the first time he says your name and your walls constrict around him hearing him moaning it. He’s growing addicted to the feel of you. He can hear and smell and see you. The way your pussy swallows him in your tight and wet heat ruined every expectation he had before.

You feel way better than he imagined.

Your tits bounce with each thrust and your moans never cease to slip from your dry throat as he buries his shaft to the hilt.

“Yoongi, I feel weird.” You grab his hand need something to hold onto as you feel this weird tightness in your belly. Yoongi could sense you were almost there tripping over the edge of bliss you became tighter around him. You’re growing sensitive.

“I know. Hold onto me, my sweet wife.” You hold his hand as he twists it behind your back the position is uncomfortable but the minute his cock slips back inside your heat you forget about it as it reaches new places inside you. Your back is arched one hand is firmly holding you and the other is placed on your hips.

This position allows him to hit even deeper the tip of his cock curves around a spot that has you see stars. You’re panting with your face nearly suffocating against the bed. Unable to move or hold yourself up you’re entirely kept in place by the help of Yoongi. The tightness in your chest explodes as you cream around Yoongi’s cock. He doesn’t stop there he fucks you through overstimulation keeping up with his ruthless pace you tear through the bedsheets. His long fat cock claims your pussy as his with a heavy load of cum. The tattoos on your body all settle down as he finishes with a few sloppy thrusts into your buttered hole.

Once he pulls out you can feel his thick cum pour out and his fingers trace your tattoos painting your body with his whiteness until everything about you is covered in him. He doesn’t stop there, he pries your shaking legs open and latches onto your sensitive bud. Yoongi pushes his cum back with two of his fingers as his tongue flicks over your clit. It’s too much and you try to push his face away but he doesn’t budge. He holds both of your hands in his tight grip on your stomach as he continues to feast on your pussy.

“Yoongi. Oh, uh.” You squirm but you can’t escape his hold. “Please. Stop, i-it’s too much.” Tears start to roll down your cheeks the next orgasm you experience hurts so bad but you can’t deny how it feels incredible at the same time. More intense than the previous one you had you let go with a cry of his name and cum around his fingers.

“No. More.” Yoongi looks up after registering your hiccup and goes up to soothe you. His tongue licks your tears away showering your neck and face with kisses until your crying subsides.

Yoongi looks you over and while he finds you utterly appealing covered in his cum he has a concerned look in his eyes. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” He pulls you close to his chest but after your senses come back one by one you start to feel his sticky cum all over you. Some still gush out of your hole as he hugs you to his body.

“No.” You shake your head reassuring him with a kiss. You don’t want to admit you cried because he felt so good.

This is the first time you experienced something like this. You’re in no way an expert but you know that his dick is not like any human males you’ve encountered in your books. They shouldn’t be so cold and big and the small ridges that kept rubbing your insides felt weird but incredibly good at the same time.

Even when he’s not aroused he’s so big. You want to touch it. “Can I?” Asking for permission you reach for his cock that rests against your leg but you don’t touch it until you get the green light for it.

“Sure.” Yoongi chuckles at your curiosity. It hasn’t been a hot minute that his dick was inside you but you want to touch it.

“It’s cold.” You muse, it’s slick with both of your cum so you could drag it up and down easily. Yoongi’s gasp catches in his throat it’s still sensitive but he lets you pump it until it’s hard again. You grow curious about how it tastes so you lick around the head as your hand moves up and down in slow motion. It doesn’t really taste like anything to you. Easy to swallow. You take your place in between his legs to get comfortable. Yoongi shivers when he feels your hot mouth around his most sensitive cockhead. You dip your tongue into the slit earning a loud groan from Yoongi his hand rests on top of your head only moving to get the hair out of his view of you sucking his cock.

“Do you like it?” You wonder if it feels good for him. This is the first time you’re doing this.

“Y-Yes, keep going.” You take more of him into your mouth encouraged by his hooded eyes that watch you. “Your mouth is very warm. It feels incredible.” You hum around a mouthful of cock he’s too big for you to get even half of him into your mouth. You stroke the skin that you can’t lick and you focus on his head instead of trying to choke on his cock. Even though you don’t think he wouldn’t like to see you choke on his length trying to fit everything. He reassures you that he likes everything you do to him. He doesn’t try to push your head down and you appreciate his thoughtfulness with an enthusiastic bob of your head up and down his length. He fills your mouth so much that it’s hard for you to swallow around it.

He's throbbing between your lips as you kiss the tip. He shows you how much he’s enjoying it with his lewd moans and sweet touches on your face and the back of your head. Contemplating what you should do with yourself you decide to give in to the desire once more. You want to have him again that it outweighs your concern to be able to take him after such a short time but it doesn’t deter you as you climb on his lap.

“Help me?” You ask shyly rubbing on his fully hard cock.

“Of course,” Yoongi replies with a smirk he can see how needy you are and he won’t deny his pretty wife anything. He kisses your lips sucking on your tongue as he guides your hips to hover over his cockhead.

He touches and kisses every mark and tattoo that appears on your skin.

You sink slowly at your own pace feeling full but you overcome the stretch of your body remembering his shape makes it easier for you to bury it fully into you. He’s big and hard as a rock inside you.

You need him to help you move but he’s more than eager to lift you and have you bounce on his cock. He’s wound up from your previous actions he had no idea he would be this turned on by seeing your small hands and mouth wrapped around his dick. You smell delicious he can’t help but kiss every inch he can reach as he guides you through the motions. You bounce on his cock your expression entirely clouded by pleasure as he hits the best spots inside your spongy walls. Yoongi kneads your ass pulling them apart to watch his cock disappear inside your small pussy. Your body might be coated in his cum but his cock is entirely coated in your arousal and cum until he shoots a fresh load inside your spent hole.

The others don’t see you the next couple of days only catch the back of Yoongi as he carries fresh food for you.

[yonseibananamilk]

“𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒅 𝒃𝒚 𝒎𝒆."

synopsis 𓂃𓈒𓍼ོ living with fyodor was the same as living without him. however, the night of his return reminds you, embarrassingly so, just how close the two of you are. literally. (~4k wc)

a/n 𓇢𓆸 i think i may or may not be starting to hate my writing BUT i really stretched beyond what im used to in certain parts of this and i am quite proud of myself for that ^^

content 𓍼ོ𓂃𓈒 canon compliant, suggestive themes(especially around the end), fyodor is very cold temperature-wise, soft!fyodor(hes soft in his own way), references to my work song fic ! + connected directly to it will come back as it is a part 2 ^^

ᡣ𐭩 special special જ⁀➴ this fic is in collaboration with @musamora ‘s new talk!fic ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و please try to check hers out too if you can — shes a brilliant writer and a lovely person overall <3

Books upon books knitted themselves compact inside the towering shelves that pressed into the walls of what you assumed was Fyodor’s home. He had never called it his home, in fact, you explicitly remember when he did bring you here —

“Welcome to this humble abode. Feel free to touch and grab whatever you desire. Everything here belongs to you, дорогая.”

— Ever since that blind date (gone wrong(but then right in the end)), the Russian had let you stay for as long as you liked. One night led to two, which led into you bringing over a few things for just a few more nights.

Which led to you staying with Fyodor for nearly a month now.

You shook your head at the thought. If anything, he was the visitor. The man was hardly ever home, therefore you weren’t even living together. And you were, like anyone else with experience in a leaky apartment, eager to accept a place as generous as this.

The house held two stories; the first floor with the living room, foyer, and utilities, and the second floor with the bathroom and bedroom. Not to mention there was even an accessible attic-study.

In the beginning, he had stayed the night with you on the couch while you remained upstairs. But it had been weeks since then. Your Russian companion, much to your dismayed crocodile tears, was now predominantly busy with his ‘mission’. You couldn’t argue with that.

Though, on one of the times when Fyodor did stay longer than just a few hours…

“Please? I don’t mind, I swear! Besides, we’re both adults, not some teenagers that’ll go off at the first brush of skin. You don’t have to sleep on the couch..!”

You didn’t want to admit that you had actually stained the sofa downstairs on the first day of being here — even if Fyodor knew about it already, with all his observance — and it also felt… wrong to have him sleep on the couch. Cold. In the dark. And very, very, very lonely.

With a desperate and dramatic gesture of your arms, you tried to make the bed as dreamy as possible to his cherry wine eyes. “See? So comfy!”

To prove your point even further, you jumped on yourself with a muffled noise in the comforter.

“How amusing.”

Your point was most certainly not taken.

Therefore, you began to deflate into the sheets. Even more muffled now, and perhaps even softer than before, you mumbled out — “Is ‘modesty’ really the only reason why you won’t share anything with me?”

Everything in the room stilled. As if gauging the weight behind your words. Then, faintly, a gust of a sigh fell into the golden air of your nearby nightlamp. The candle flame was tickled into a dance thanks to the Russian, twisting and spinning hypnotically.

So hypnotically that you failed to catch the shift in the bed beside your head.

Not until a chilled hand fell atop your head. Bony fingers of ice itself urged your face up and away from the fire. Your attention was rewarded with a smooth, humming smile.

“There is more, дорогая.” He admitted. “But those reasons have nothing to do with you. After all, you are the sole reason why I would like to sleep here.”

Briefly, so much so where you barely even caught it this time — a thumb brushed over your lips. Cherry wine eyes batted down at you, reflecting the flame behind your burning face. Like the sun was the center of his very being.

“Then why don’t you?”

As his thumb curled into the corner of your lips, the rest of his hand glided over your skin. Two fingers read the curves of your jawline. Its adjacent pair followed down to the side of your neck.

He could grab your entire head with ease.

Fluttering ties in your stomach unraveled and twisted again in an endless heap of knots. Why wasn’t he saying anything? What was he thinking of? Why is he getting closer?

A chilled breath brought respite to your burning cheeks. But only for a moment.

Why is he moving away?

“Be wary of the fatigue that will eat you, if you do not sleep soon, дорогая.”

Pale feet revisited the cold, yet still warmer than him, floors. Wood welcomed him with a tired creak, following the man’s every step until he reached the doorway. By then, you had turned off your back to finally face him yourself.

“But I’m not tired.” Horribly, a yawn tore through your last syllable. The heaviness of your eyelids was never apparent until now.

Another amused hum brought you back to the Russian before you, hand on the knob as he smirked down at you. Slowly, the sharp edges of his little grin faded into something softer, fuzzier.

A smile, he had gifted you.

“If you are not tired…” Your heart skipped a beat, anticipating every little thing for his next suggestion. As if crying out — “What? Yes? What is it?”

“Then remember this: there is danger in giving into one’s desires, дорогая.” Icy red eyes rove over your laden figure with an unreadable spark. He always looked at you so curiously.

“I would be wise to not fall victim to such dangers. As would you.”

The closing door halted itself instantly when you let out the smallest of huffs.

“My offer still stands…” With a dragging breath of protest, you fell underneath the blankets.

Black swirls encapsulated your mind as you managed to spin his words effortlessly; “Remember this: there is reward for passing through danger.”

…

Unknowingly shooting through the Russian’s morale — you fell asleep with the same singular weight of your own on the bed. However, the door was still ajar in the morning upon your awakening.

But that moment was weeks ago. The memory of it proven by the clear frown on your lips — twitching up and down every now and then based on whatever the book you read said.

You wouldn’t spend your time thinking about someone who wouldn’t even give you so much as a clear answer to ‘How was your day?’

A creak of wood whipped your head around in urgence. Only for nothing to be there.

Nothing but a pang of disappoint. All at the absence of a certain Russian.

Well. Maybe you would spend a bit of your time.

With a ruffled sigh you fell back against the chair, pages still in hand as the grandfather clock behind you whisked the day away. These moments of solitude had become a daily part of your life — ever since popping out of Fyodor’s floorboards like a daisy in the snow.

But they might as well have been your floorboards too.

The creak of wood glided past your ears. Followed by the light shuffle of a coat being draped over the rack nearby. Then the ghosts of footsteps slowly but surely making their way toward the living room.

“Hm?”

Much to his amusement, there you sat. Old book in hand atop the gentle rise and fall of your chest. In a peaceful slumber too.

“How adorable.” The R rolled after his deep chuckle, growing slightly in volume as he drew closer to your laden frame. “Falling asleep to folktales, are we? Hm, дорогая?”

Frostbite ghosted over your cheek. A chill fell over your fingertips — the lingering absence of your now-taken book. Burgundy eyes flitted over the title with a deep hum.

Surprisingly enough, you had managed to find one of the few English books that hid in his shelves. The vast majority were Russian(as he wasn’t the best with learning new languages).

“Orpheus and Eurydice?” His tongue read. “Now what on Earth compelled you to read such a tale..?”

Firewood slid off one another as it ate away at itself in incessant hunger. A desire for something warmer than what it already had. A rod poked it stable in no time.

“Perhaps my дорогая is more romantic than she lets on. It makes me wonder…”

The shadows around him chuckled in tandem before, again, rippling as the fireplace was muted once more.

‘What a foolish thought.’ His brain reprimanded.

Yet his heart leapt not once, but twice — as you began to slowly stir awake. With orange light painted across the dips of your babbling lips in a silent dance with dark.

“Uah… who’s there..?”

Raven locks fell to the side as he tilted towards you slowly. Akin to an animal watching something unusual. Unexplainable. Unimaginable. A thick silence filled the air as Fyodor lagged to translate your words — no thanks to the strange foreign tingling south of his head — all by the sight of you.

‘How vulnerable.’ He mused. ‘How adorable.’

Despite knowing full well what was coming out his lips — despite knowing just what it could risk for him —

“Федя is here.”

He had willingly revived something. Something that had lied dormant for dozens of hundreds of years. All for you. You and your daftly half-conscious state. He hadn’t been called such a simple name since childhood.

And since his family was alive.

Despite his already-dissipating regret, icy tips glided reverently over the crown of your head. The locks of it threaded like yarn. Each part sifted through like flour. The back of it all was cupped tightly — encouraging your limp head to face him.

“Fe… diya…?”

Oh how adorable you were. So sleepy you couldn’t even pronounce a simple nickname. A diminutive. An endearment.

Nor could you realize how special you were right now. Though, that was the norm at this point.

“Yes. Can you indulge Fedya for a moment, дорогая?” The Russian cooed with a smile both condescendingly familiar, and unrecognizably tender.

Your whined nod was enough to coax him closer. Arms atop the sides of the chair. Frosted breath wafting just shy of your pulse.

“Can you tell Fedya what you were thinking of? Hm?”

Lithe fingers haunted the cover of your little folktale with echoed taps. His cherry wine gaze hooked onto the half-lidded glaze in your eyes.

“Tell him what you were thinking of when reading such a story?”

As slurred syllables pooled from your tongue, Fyodor locked himself onto every quiver, bite, and sound. Each was greedily soaked into the prodigy’s mind — held in higher regard than any mazed tactic.

Although just as half-lidded as yours, his eyes were far more awake than they had been during his accursed mission earlier.

After all, if Fyodor knew such a sweet sight waited for him here — he would’ve destroyed everything in his path to get back as soon as possible.

Frosted breath ghosted over the angle of your jaw, waiting patiently for something more.

“I… I thought that Eurydice was very lucky to have been loved so dearly... Regardless of what happened at the end.”

Black brows rose at you. “Lucky?”

“Yes. I’m a bit envious — being loved so dearly is…” A shake of the head pauses your sleepy train of thought. With a deep breath, your head reclined further into the plush of your seat before correcting yourself.

“Being loved is a very lucky thing indeed.”

Well weren’t you the lucky one?

The gentle squeaks of the couch were thankfully muffled by your weight, settling further and further into its cotton fabric. Your warmth soaked into it well. Though, much of that warmth was the fire’s — which only seemed to be growing.

Just along the edges of your peripheral, a certain smiling Russian was also present — leaned over your shoulder closely. Close enough for the scent of black tea to flood your nostrils yet again.

“Could you imagine it?”

A chill ran over the hairs on the nape of your neck. Fyodor’s breath was cold. His lips too.

“Imagine being loved…?” Your voice was far softer than expected. “I… suppose it would be nice. Very nice, in fact. I’d like to be cared about…”

Shifting your eyes, the golden text of the book was now being circled by Fyodor’s idle fingers. Lithe enough to perfectly recreate the intricate cursive. And cold enough to make you shudder at the mere sight.

Nonetheless — the image of such hands snug around you was as warm as the shared fireplace.

“Wouldn’t everyone?” He cooed. Slender fingertips rhythmically tapped atop the book cover.

“Being loved…” Cherry wine eyes reflected the orange fire beside you. “Or wanted…”

You swallowed a lump in your throat that certainly wasn’t there before.

“Is a very human desire.”

Another swallow. Glued to the fiddling hands in your lap, your heart leaped with you upon asking;

“Do you desire it as well?”

Briefly did his eyes widen.

It was borderline impossible to catch Fyodor off-guard. But, as luck would have it, you succeeded at it like any other mundane task. You always did.

It’d be terrifying if not so attractive.

“I suppose…” Once unoccupied fingers found their way atop your shoulder. Chills ran through your arm. As well as an unwelcome spark through your entire body. “Yes. Yes, I do.”

A flicker of your shared fireplace caught your eye. Avoiding the piercing gaze of Fyodor Dostoevsky as he, much to your confusion, stared into your very essence. It was as if he was analyzing every curve and groove before completely committing it to memory.

That sly, condescending chuckle reeled you home to him. All semblance of earlier surprise had drained from his eyes. “What a curious question, дорогая. Were you picturing it in your mind?”

Blackberry strands fell against the white fabric of his shirt, flowing in tandem with the inching of his face.

“Thinking… pondering… wondering…”

Orange light danced within the seeds of his eyes.

“Imagining what it’d be like to be loved by me?”

You didn’t know whether to fuse with the couch or disappear completely.

Whatever happened to the fire danced over your already-burning cheeks — radiating against the chill of Fyodor’s face as he bordered closer and closer.

“Can you imagine it?”

Close enough to count each eyelash.

Close enough to taste the scent of black tea and iron on your tongue.

Close enough to feel the subtle heat of his cheeks.

“Imagine being loved by me?”

Your lower lip began to tremble. Sweat sprinkled from your shaky palms. That same spark shocked you from head to toe yet again.

Everything felt heavy. Heavy and warm.

And your nose itched. Itched and twitched. You couldn’t help but sniff — which only amplified the hot water in your eyes — already glittering in your lashes. The unsaid border between the two of you dwindled like a candle in the wind.

All you knew was that you were sweaty, shaky, and far too warm to be considered normal.

A snort caught itself in his throat. While perfectly timed with just how stiff you were getting, your little sniffle was not out of embarrassment. Simply an incoming sneeze that he would gladly bless you for in: 3, 2—

“Achoo!”

…

He did not want to finish that countdown.

“Woah…! I got my boogers on your face! Hah!”

“That you did.” The Russian begrudgingly muttered, closed eyes subtly twitching under the weight of your giggles and dabbing sleeve. “Bless you.”

Despite all your unceremonious, uncouth, undisciplined whatnots — the sheepish smile you flashed to him was hardly ignored. “Thank you… Did it get in your eye?”

“Fortunately not.”

“Aww. Better luck next time then.”

The caught snort from before clawed its way out of Fyodor and into a throaty, hearty, genuine laugh.

No cocky chuckles. No sadistic grins. No sly hums.

Just a normal laugh. With golden fire reflecting off the sides of his face like framing sunrays. And a usually imperceptible ombre of deep magenta in his otherwise black hair — thanks to the generous amount of light the fireplace provided a few feet away.

Sure, it was akin to the cawing of crows at the crack of dawn — Fyodor most certainly hadn’t laughed like that in what seemed like centuries. But it was touching nonetheless.

Very much so.

“It’s rude to stare, дорогая.”

It was even harder to look away when he was smiling so warmly.

“I bet Orpheus wouldn’t think Eurydice was rude — even when her boogers got in his eye.”

An unfamiliar emptiness frosted over your shoulder when the Russian leaned away. “Perhaps, дорогая. Perhaps.”

You couldn’t recall a time when he was ever so warm.

“There are no more wool blankets.” The Russian patted through the wooden cabinets with a small hum. “Дорогая, you wouldn’t happen to know where they are, would you?”

Looking over his shoulder, a cherry wine gaze poured over your freshly showered & dressed body. You learned to always stay snug for the cold that managed to occasionally sneak its nightly way past the fireplace — crackling happily a hallway down.

You hummed back, offering the man a smile warm enough to rival it. “I do.”

“And whatever happened to them?” Knowing lips cooed. The answer fell sweeter when it was from your tongue than his mind.

“I put them in the attic because they scratched at my face,” Rubbing at your arms, a wave of apology washed over you. Maybe Fyodor preferred blankets that way? Scratchy and itchy. He was a strange man after all.

Even more strange now that he was finally content with sharing a bed. You don’t think you’d ever seen a man smile for so long. However eerie though, at the end of the night, it was… endearing.

Tonight, he had changed out of the usual wear for war(or whatever he did outside of the house) — a fluffy white robe wrapped snug around Fyodor. Tied together by the loose cotton belt.

“And so you have been sleeping in a single blanket? Instead of the multiple wool ones I had given you?” The urge to hang your head was woefully strong. You opted to shuffle your feet instead.

“Yes, Fyodor. I… I can give you the blanket for the night if that’s what you want?”

Briefly, his roving eyes met yours. With a small lilt of his voice, which was another strange way of expressing amusement for him, the Russian cooed; “And leave a woman to fend for herself against the cold?”

Another spark of warmth crackled under your skin. The sensation swam through your bones in a melting frenzy that burned your face once it reached it.

“T-then we can share…?”

Cherry eyes crinkled in delight.

“Wonderful idea, дорогая.”

As your knees slowly crawled up to meet your chest, the sway of his hair encapsulated you in a garden of imagination — with cherry wine eyes to drink and straight locks that rivaled shades of the ripest blackberries. Such sweet attributes for such a cold man.

Literally. He was colder than the air itself when sitting on your bed. The man could’ve drunken up all the warmth in the room, and still ask for more.

“You’re freezing!” You whined out, curling into a shuddering ball. “Maybe you should take that blanket, you might as well take the ones in the attic too.”

A frown quipped its brows at you. Yet, despite all his shown annoyance, there lacked a general sense of danger that once lived within.

Every glare was now punctuated with a cooing riddle of warning but quickly followed by a soft smile — imperceivable to all he knew. Excusing you.

“And I assume that means you are warmer? Hm?”

“Well, duh. I’ve been soaking in the fireplace all day waiting for you.”

“Oh?”

Under the gentle fire of your candlelit bedside, a meek coral bloomed across the slim cheeks of his face. His ears were red too — how long had he been that way?

“So, you were waiting for me?”

“Yes.” An exasperated breath left you feeling flustered and confused.

“Diligently?”

“And I was very lonely the whole time.”

A sense of deja vu sprung over you like a freshly pouring fountain.

Candlelight brewed against his face. Cherry wine eyes raked over your every inch. Pale skin, now painted with pink, smoothly approached closer and closer and closer —

Until the two of you are face to face once again. Illuminated only by generous candlelight and warmed by a singular blanket, except for Fyodor leeching off your heat.

“Дорогая, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume you thought we were married. With you waiting so, what was the word...?"

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets.

"Ah yes. Diligently for my arrival.”

Freezing fingertips grazed along the bridge of your jaw. Dancing over the skin like whistling air, then halting at the chin. Two fingers held it gently, softly, reverently even.

“Though, my words are not necessarily a complaint.”

Candlelight pooled over the side of his face, glistening in the corners of Fyodor’s eyes like water lanterns at nighttime. You could only hope he was staring at you because you looked just as beautiful.

Gulping, a strained noise tumbled from your lips —

“Oh? Whining now?” A chilling thumb ran over the shine of your bottom lip. He was closing in.

“I did not whine.” Your voice cracked. “I just—”

Words left you. Tumbling freely from your throat in an entanglement of broken syllables and whines.

And with each mishap, his grin only grew. Evident by the crinkled underside of his trailing gaze.

At long last, a semblance of defense clicked into mind — spilling out with almost-paralyzing heat inside. And yes. Your voice cracked a second time.

“You caught me off-guard!”

“I did?” He crooned. The weight of your blanket was peeled off — making way for Fyodor to finally join you. Which you would’ve been over the moon about — if your thoughts weren’t so scrambled. You only hoped his were, too.

Every restrained laugh. Every languid movement. Everything he did — you prayed that he felt even a semblance of the bashfulness you did. Maybe then, it wouldn’t feel so embarrassing.

“Oh, дорогая.” Frostbitten lips sighed. “You truly are adorable.”

Time melted into an infinity of simply you and Fyodor. With your brain dry of anything else to say, and his hopefully the same. With one last strained noise, you turned away to bury yourself into the cotton of your now-shared bed.

A candlelit silence bloomed over.

As the sheets’ soft heaviness cradled back over you, Fyodor included now, the man slid himself behind your burning face — peacefully watching the uncharacteristic heat fizz out of your little head.

Blackberry locks stretched over the expanse of the pillow like grape vines across a fence.

Amid all your muffled sounds, the cotton had begun to seep a sense of sleep into your skin, added on by Fyodor’s granted silence. With a sniffle, you reluctantly let go of his blundering words — slowly but surely relaxing into the candlelight bed. But not without an evident pout.

A haze of warmth enwrapped you. Cozy.

The edges of consciousness were held by none other than a familiar pair of cold hands. Which slithered their way around your waist — pulled you snugly against their owner’s body — allowing him to soak in the feast of your body heat.

Oddly enough, as the Russian slid himself closer, not an inch of his frigid temperature leaked into yours. Quite the opposite.

Your slumbering body thawed away at his cold one.

Save for one place that did not need any more warming. Like his cheeks, for example. Or elsewhere.

taglist ᯓᡣ𐭩 @aureatchi @soleelia + people that also wanted to be added but please know time is my greatest enemy

translations! (these are rough translations, and if there are any inaccuracies please let me know)

дорогая - ‘darling’ i just cant envision fedya saying ‘baby’. darling is the only accurate one.

thank you so much to @musamora for betareading again !!! she is quite literally the sweetest writer i know and this fic couldnt be possible without her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂)⸝♡

also thanks to @/saradika-graphics for all the wonderful dividers! the images for the banner were either found on pinterest or edited by yours truly <3 thank you for reading !

© yonseibananamilk 2024 - please refrain from copying, plagiarizing and/or reposting my works on other platforms. reblogs, notes, and comments are very appreciated!

[deadguywalkin]

seb x fem farmer/you hcs

all lot of these can be gender neutral! i probably won’t be making more of these.. i am a bi seb truther, but my blog is gonna continue to be very sebxsamxalex centric since i just wrote these up for sab hehe

fixes your hair/bangs when he sees something wrong without saying anything. just randomly pushes them to the side for you or touches it up a little, cuz he knows how annoying it can be esp when you can’t see them yourself

loves having his chest slept on. a hand up your shirt with his slightly cold hand moving up and down on your back (he has cold hands FIGHT ME.IF YOU DISAGREE!!!!!

also likes having his lap sat on. he likes having slight pressure/weight on him a lot

isn’t very affectionate just right away/generally but randomly ruffles your hair or holds one of your cheeks while pecking the other

random naps in the middle of the day together. it’s a whole routine and this will happen every single day

watching sci-fi/horror/fantasy movies all cuddled up on the couch and just constantly commenting on and making fun of everything that happens. giggling at the way an actor said something weirdly and just turning them into little inside jokes

keeps a hairtie on his wrist at all times

sitting with you while he eats somethign and you’re not eating anything, he just feeds you little bites without even offering it first

‘darling’ ‘my dear’ ‘my love’ , ‘my bat’ if we’re feeling extra emo

face, neck, waist grabber. needs to be as close as he can to you so he just pulls your waist closer while you’re kissing, fingers borderline digging into your skin

does small gestures, no questions asked, doesn’tsay anything. he doesn’t expect anything in return but he just enjoys being there for you

acts tough and introverted but he’s actually very needy and soft. just because he isn’t vocally affectionate doesn’t mean he doesn’t want to be smothered with kisses and loved very gently.

notices all the little things. if you do your hair or makeup a little differently, if you’re wearing a new perfume, anything. he knows you by heart and will notice any little change

random hugs and pushing his head over your shoulder, placing little pecks to your neck

bold and flirty, making suggestive jokes but CRUMBLES the second you flirt back

a lot of hand holding, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. pressing soft kisses to your knuckles before looking at you with half lidded eyes and a little smile that puts his dimples on display

random motorcycle rides whenever you get tired of being in town. riding off to god knows where, but finding a random empty field out of town to sit in and talk in the middle of the night

creeps up behind you and spooks you every once in a while. it is so annoying but a little endearing and it also kind of puts you on edge when he hasn’t done it in a while

not the best at communicating, but he’ll let you walk him through it because he knows you know how to do it better than he does (?) idk how to word it

naturally has very flirty narrow eyes. anything he says sounds flirty with the way he looks at you

HATES showing people his baby photos. he’ll let you keep one in your phonecase though, you’re the only exception for anything to him

very eepy. leans on you a lot,

if you guys are double emo, heart shaped blood vials of each other’s blood that you just carry everywhere or wear as a necklace

[agirlwithglam]

TEENAGE SUMMER (12-16yo)

so summer has finally arrived and school has ended. and ofc, we want that hot girl summer with the perfect body, mindset, habits, holidays, and a great time in general but what if we have sorta strict parents who are just.. parents. so here are some tips to have your dream summer and glow up but also make it family/ teenage friendly!

GLOW UP:

external glow up tips:

numero uno: WORKOUT. yes, ofc this is on here, what did u think? work.out. decide why u wanna workout first: healthy body? dream body? abs? being stronger? for happiness? for fun? then, you can find a workout on youtube / pinterest for the one you want. (also what i love doing is the workouts on pinterest where its related to a tv show- or just search up [movie/ show name] workout)

smell nice! perfume, scented shampoos/ body scrubs, etc.

SUNSCREEN. trust me, u DO want to put it on.

skincare! moisturiser, lip gloss/ lip balm, exfoliation, etc.

put cold spoons under your eyes in the morning to reduce puffiness.

u dont like something? fix it! i didn't like my teeth for a while, so i got braces. you can't fix it? stop worrying about it and just give it to god cus u got better things to do

MANIFESTING:

affirmations!! affirmations in the mirror, listening to them, repeating them, thinking them, they helped me SO much!

Believe you’re hot. As simple as that.

Visualisation. Imagine people giving you compliments and staring at you all day long

internal glow up tips:

confidence. duhhhh! heres a guide to self love& confidence

abundance mindset. everything works out in YOUR favour.

detachment. stop taking shite so seriously. honestly, if someones hating on you then pity them or laugh then move on. like ur too busy to spend even a second of your day to make someone feel bad about themselves or argue about something pointless.

keep learning! educate yourself, expand your knowledge and your mind.

HAPPINESS. the real glow up starts when you're genuinely happy with who you are and where you are. be a light, carefree, bubbly girl but also remember to set standards and boundaries. when you're just genuinely happy, life truly does start to get better.

hotness is a mindset.

other tips:

channel your little kid energy

take a bunch of photos! (at the end you'll basically have a pretty summer mood board)

don't be on your phone all the time. try to ✨socialise✨ your time on earth is limited don't waste it on crusty, unhot stuff. ur parents will thank you for this as well

romanticise it. (laugh. smile. wear nice clothes, talk to people, get lost in a daydream. appreciate the beauty in stuff. even if its just a sofa.)

be positive. quit complaining. be happy and focus on what you have. spread love and happiness! you're privileged and you are a privilege. act like ittt!

stay present minded. live here, now.

listen to groovy, aesthetic-themes music. to get u into the moooddd!

become a better person. a better daughter/ son, sibling, friend, person in general.

GET OUTSIDEEEE!!!! TOUCH SOME GRASS. its sunny, its summer, why tf r u staying indoors????

sleep girl. sleep. just because you don't have to wake up early tomorrow, does not mean you can stay up till 2am watching netflix. sleep makes your skin glow, makes you look prettier, makes you happier and 10000 more benefits. so sleep.

channel your creativity! (paint, draw, sketch, write, poetry, music, etc.)

play. you're still young!! have fun and do silly and embarrassing things while you still can!!!!!!!

create a summer mood board!

channel a certain era- barbie summer, blair waldorf summer, hot girl summer, etc.

bucket list ideas:

go to a park

redecorate your room

spa day (w friends)

girl slumber parties! (face masks, girlie things, movies)

volunteer somewhere

beach day!

write letters and kiss them (like those pretty pinterest summer!)

go biking (i love doing it in the mornings)

bake! (cakeeee)

get back into some old hobbies (childhood nostalgia)

gardening. care for a plant (then talk to it when you feel sad ur won't be insane i promise)

look at the sunrise / sunset

read dude. just read and romanticise it with a pretty comfy space

make a goal. then work on it so hard that you get it!

learn something new (for me i rly wanna learn crochetting)

scrap booking

do a workout with friends

video diary!! (film everythinggg)

make jewellery (u can sell them after if u want. also there are tons of jewellery making kits on amazon or toys r'us!)

donate / sell stuff (like books and toys)

flower press (with printer tho)

dance with your friends

wear jewellery!! summer necklaces, bracelets, etc!

go for walks (w friends)

get your nails done. (you don't have to go out to get them done. you can do it yourself. i dont have nail polish but my friend does so we love putting it on together)

make some new friends! (join clubs, visit new places, talk to people, join classes,)

go to the beach

"what makes life so beautiful is the fact that it ends"

[therandompagesblog]

Hunting Your Soul Chapter 6 🫀Y/N🫀

Trigger Warnings: Stalking, manipulation, self pleasure, orgasm

Could a stalker be seen as sweet? Caring? Attentive? Or, were these things I imagined as the days went on? Chan's nature had changed. He was filled less with riddles and more with statements. Statements of truth. He was going to take me. I knew that much. I knew I was going to be turned into a monster that lived in the darkness. When, was my question, but he never answered. Chan always answered my other questions. My questions about his feelings toward me. They were vague yet unexplainable. He always referred to me as his. That I was meant to be his. That my heart was his. It was an animalistic description. One that frightened me but didn't. Every time I was frightened or worried he would mask it with care. Kindness. Chan never directly spoke to me. Only through words on a screen. Otherwise, he would shower me with gifts. Flowers, pyjamas, iced cinnamon buns. It was a generational romance. Texting. Never to be seen. I hated it. I hated the waiting game. I wanted to see him. I wanted to see what he looked like. I wanted to see his cold gaze, pressing into me. I wanted him to consume me. Feed off me. They were stupid desires. Reckless even. They were thoughts and feelings I gained over the course of three days. Three pitiful days and I was craving him. The only nuisance was he slept during the day. It was Inconvenient for me and I wanted him to know that. I wanted him to pay for it. Pay for the ways he was making me feel. I wanted to play his game. Me: I want to hear your voice. Chan: If you're a good little flower for me. I will. Me: Fine. I'll suffer then. Chan: Careful with that attitude. I have to work today. Be patient.

I rolled my eyes in frustration hitting the bed. I was annoyed at myself. At him for making me feel this way. I should feel sickened, but I wasn't. Chan gave me no reason to. The only thing he did was text, call or watch. He wasn't really stalking either. He was too quiet to be a stalker. Too quiet. Too careful. He was harmless in the eyes of the law. A report would do nothing to him. He was untraceable. He wasn't even real. If I did report him, the police would tell me they could not do anything until something happened. Until the harassment escalated. I could report his number, but all Chan would have to do was get another and he would still keep texting. Calling. But if he was a monster, then he was invincible. He was deadly. Very deadly. And right now that was hot. And I was hormonally hot. It was despicable yet erotic to have a watcher. It was something that kept my mind preoccupied as I started to have sick fantasies. Fantasies about his deep voice. The voice that burned into my soul. Fantasies of his touch and the way he would feel. It was already a catastrophic downfall. I was damned for him and I did not care. I did not care in the way I wanted him to suffer too. I wanted him to feel my frustration at his lack of communication. His lack of verbal communication. His lack of physical communication. His–his lack of presence. I shuddered at the thought of meeting him soon. My body shivered at the thought of his face. His touch. I wondered more about his musky smell. I wanted to smell him again. Throwing my head back with a sigh. I closed my eyes, thinking about faceless hands. Touching me. Guiding me softly. I wondered if the monster had fangs or claws. Or both. Would they cut into my body deep or scratch the surface? My body was starting to get hot as I thought about the blank kisses trailing across my skin. An irrational thought crept across my mind. I wanted to phone him. Force him to listen to my arousal like he forced my emotions to yearn for him. It was a sick and twisted idea but my hormones were everywhere, and considering he stole my tampons. A little moan was the icing on a sweet cinnamon bun. My hand found its way into my trousers. Slowly touching myself as I felt my body getting hotter. I reached for my bedside to grab my silicone vibrator and turned it on. I allowed the vibrating sensations to toy against my clothed folds. My back arched as I pressed harder against my clothed clit, thrashing. I stopped. Smirking to myself as I looked at my reflection. I took my clothes off and spread myself open. Open for him. A stranger. I pressed the toy against my clit. Circling slowly as my hand reached for my phone. I slid the toy across my folds. Then back up to my sensitive bud. I thrashed. Whimpering away. I looked at my phone. Clicking on Chan's number. His phone went straight to voicemail. The beep sent my devious arousal into new heights. "Chan... Ch-chan." I whimpered loudly. Louder than I normally would. I clicked the button. Speeding it up as I arched myself. Allowing the state of bliss to watch over me. Then it came. The dread. The fear. I fucked up. I incredibly fucked up. I could feel it deep within my warm bones as I waited for him.

18+ Taglist for those who are not turning back

@catlove83 @itsyourleilei @whatudowhennooneseesyou @leeknot @estella-novella @fackeraccount @eastjonowhere @cocofia143 @jennibahng @noerinspace @sleepingmissingprincess @ye0lkkot @hiitsmebbygrl16 @shhimhereforsmut @jaeminie-cricket @stayceebs97 @ritiiiiiii @chlodavids @beautystarry @hyunjinhoexxx @hash2013 @jeonginontopforever @catnipchannie @kaqua @fairy-lixie @myflowercloud @galaxy4489 @velvetmoonlght

[istoleyoursk1n]

How do you think the companions would be with a tiefling gn Reader who's insecure about their horns and tail / just in general being a tiefling? Idm which companions!

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

How would they react to a tiefling Tav who's insecure about being a tiefling?

(Little note, I personally love tieflings, I think they're so pretty)

.

.

: ̗̀➛ ASTARION

“Oh, poor thing, you’re gorgeous! Whoever told you weren’t? My, you’re simply the prettiest little tiefling I’ve ever had the pleasure to see, and trust me, darling, I have seen many.”

Baffled that this would be something you’d be ashamed about. I mean, he’d tell you to your face if you were hideous but he hasn't now has he?

He doesn't quite understand what's there to be insecure about, you look just fine in his eyes but if you need his honest opinion then he’ll give it to you.

He thinks tieflings are fascinating in their own right.

With long curled horns, rigid skin, and a gaze as intense as the fiery pits of hell, you’re not exactly the worst thing he's seen.

He’s not a poet but he’d show you how much he adores every inch of your body to prove just how stunning you are in his eyes.

Damn anyone who says otherwise, he’d reject the heavens in favor of a more hellish embrace that comes in your shape.

He really likes touching your horns/grabbing onto them, he’d never explain why but the texture of them under his cold fingertips is something he pleasantly enjoys.

: ̗̀➛WYLL

“Love, you are above the heavens itself. No angel could compare to the warmth I have found in your every touch. You’re someone I am proud to call my lover, horns and all.”

He gets it, I mean he was turned into some sort of devilish fiend by his wretched patron.

He understands how it could make anyone feel insecure. The horns feel heavy, your skin isn't as smooth as most, and there are cases in which people easily judge you for what you are.

Though, are those reasons to make him love you any less? Absolutely not.

You looked at his transformed self and still chose to love him, so of course he’d do the same for you. In fact, he loves you even more now.

He’d call you beautiful in every way he knows how, concealing each thought of you in words that all come to praise everything that you are and more.

Besides, there's something rather poetic about two devils dancing in the moonlight.

Would compliment every part of your body you feel the most insecure about on a daily basis so that perhaps someday you’d love yourself the same way he loves you.

He’d fall in love with you and those fiery eyes again and again if he could. You hold his heart.

: ̗̀➛GALE

“No magic can compare to the spell you’ve cast upon me. Akin to a moth drawn to a flame, I will gladly fall into your fiery embrace.”

Upset that you view yourself in such a way.

He understands that a bad light is often shed amongst tieflings but he didn't think it would affect you to this degree.

He’s completely in love with every bit of you, he can't bear seeing you hate yourself like this.

If anything, this gives him more of a reason to praise you more, going above and beyond to make you feel like the god/goddess he sees in his eyes.

He’d speak in loving whispers about each and every part of your body so that not an inch of you goes unloved.

He loves staring into your eyes, they dilate and pulse in a way that bewitches him to a point where he’d rather meet your gaze than look up at the stars.

You could describe yourself in the most downright horrendous way possible and he’d still look at you with the most smitten expression you've seen a man hold.

He’ll help you get over your insecurities little by little, doing everything he can to make you see yourself as the specialty you are.

: ̗̀➛KARLACH

“What?! Why would you be? You’re only the greatest thing that's ever happened to me! The hottest thing to come into my life! You’re amazing.”

I mean she gets it, there's a dark stigma around tieflings that she faced herself. For a long while, she was seen as this brutish devil who’d kill children!

But tieflings can be cool, she thinks tieflings can and are badass! There's nothing else like them.

Would constantly reassure you that there's nothing you should be ashamed about, you’re amazing as hell and she loves you for it.

Fuck anyone who tries to slander you for who you are, she’d gladly set them ablaze.

The constant heat she feels on a daily basis is nothing compared to the burning feeling you give her. It makes her go weak at the knees.

Very direct about how much she loves the way you look, it's impossible for anything she says to be a lie.

She’d scream it out loud for the hell of it, making sure all of Faerûn knew how gorgeous you were with all your devilish little features.

She thinks the tail and horns are hot, nothing you say can make her ever think otherwise.

She’ll love you until every part of her body burns into ash in the hopes that by then, you will have learned to love yourself.

: ̗̀➛SHADOWHEART

“Hm. Well, I suppose we all have our own insecurities… if it makes you feel any better, I think… no. I know you’re beautiful. You’re beyond every loving word I could ever use to describe you.”

Surprised by this but she doesn't take it against you. Instead, she’ll find her own little ways of helping you out of your insecurities.

The stigma around tieflings is bad but it is something she herself can relate to with once being a follower of the goddess Shar and the misconceptions that come with it.

Gentle reassurances of your appearance and her love for you would constantly come unprompted.

She’d notice you sadly staring at your horns in a reflection and she wouldn't hesitate to walk up to you and remind you about how pretty they are.

If she sees you scratching and your rigid skin, she’d come up to you and gently take your hand into hers, proudly confessing how much she adores your skin.

She wouldn't bombard you with compliment after compliment but she'd certainly be there if the self-hate gets too much.

She would carefully drag you out of that darkness just as you did for her.

She’d gently drag her fingertips across your horns and every rigid part of your skin, entangling her hand into your tail if not for a simple display of affection.

There's not a single part of you she hasn't come to adore and she’ll make sure that in time, you’ll come to adore those parts of you too.

: ̗̀➛LAE’ZEL

“Insecure? How could someone like you be ‘insecure’? Your mind has no place for such degrading thoughts. You’re better than that.”

She doesn't quite grasp the concept of being ‘insecure’ about something other than it being a sign of weakness hence her confusion at first.

She sees you as a brilliant warrior, someone she deeply admires, how do you find yourself hating anything about yourself?

She sees no reason for your self-loathing and may across as rudely direct such as telling you to simply move past it.

But soon enough she’ll realize how much these ‘insecurities’ of yours may be affecting you and go out of her way to try a different approach.

She’ll start off by saying how being a tiefling doesn't make you any weaker or lower than anybody else, in fact, you are more than worthy of praise and respect.

She believes every part of you is attractive, you’d never have to worry about her ever falling out of love for you.

Besides, aren't tiefling’s fire resistant? That's another thing you should be proud of, some do not have the privilege of being able to withstand strong flames.

It's mostly listing every advantage your body holds against others before ever so subtly squiggling in an actual sweet compliment that she sort of hopes you don't pick up on.

She couldn't have asked for a better partner, you are far better than anything she could have wished for and she wouldn't have you in any other way.

: ̗̀➛HALSIN

“Nature has built you in the shape of beauty, my heart, every part of you was intended to be loved. Even the prettiest of roses are put to shame in you’re presence.”

He looks more hurt than you by the newly found information.

He believed nature had made all its creatures perfect to every single degree, that includes you.

He could hardly bear hearing you degrade yourself in such a way, not when you’re the most precious thing he's ever laid his eyes upon.

He’d have to sit you down, and allow both of you to discuss your insecurities and where they could have possibly stemmed from.

After which he goes on an entire monologue about how deeply infatuated he is with you and everything that you are, horns and tail included.

If anything, he thinks your horns and tail are adorable. You’re the very peak of beauty in a world filled of glorious things.

He’ll compliment and praise every part of yourself you've come to hate until you’re a speechless, blushing mess.

Try convincing him otherwise and you might as well faint from the amount of sweet little whispers he’d be sending your way.

There is no way he's letting you get away from this without feeling like the most loved thing on this planet.

•❅───────────✧❅✦❅✧───────────❅•

[diagonal-queen]

sorry for coming again but i’m the one that asked you abt the dazai ranpo and chuuya make s/o one! if writing abt a male s/o is difficult you can do gn reader who wears tang tops if that’s alright!!

hi again! no need to apologise- i love having folks in my inbox! i got a little worried when i saw the male reader lol. i'm so sorry my love but unfortunately i don't write male readers simply because i do not know what it is like to be a boy/masc-aligned. i would hate to write something that makes male readers uncomfortable or dysphoric.

Reader who sleeps with a tank top

♡ pairings: Dazai Osamu, Ranpo Edogawa, Chuuya Nakahara x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: How do these boys react to reader who sleeps in a tank top?

♡ cw: Fluff with a bit of suggestive (damnit Dazai), ~intimate touching~

note: Never had one of these types of requests before so I was excited to start writing this one! Apologies for errors, hope you enjoy x

Dazai:

Dazai is highkey a pervert. He's the kinda guy to sneakily grope his partners in public and is generally pretty handsy. This doesn't stop in the bedroom! In fact it ramps up by a billion

He was veeeery excited to learn that you shed most of your clothes when you sleep.

He claims that he can't sleep unless he's cuddling you, which itself is kinda sweet, but in Dazai's head cuddling just means fondling lmao

If you have boobs he's ABSOLUTELY copping a feel. If you don't have boobs he's still copping a feel. It really doesn't matter what gender you are or how large your chest is he is obsessed and always holding it tbh

Even if it's super cold he'll insist that there is just no need for you to wear any more because he'll keep you warm! Subtle 👍

Nah he's not gonna stop you if you do decide to put on a long-sleeve shirt or something, but his hands are still gonna find their way under the shirt. Man just needs his physical contact and that's okay!

He WILL use this opportunity to kiss your neck/shoulders and give you hickeys. I mean it's RIGHT there

He probably uses this method to try and instigate sex with you (whether or not it works is entirely up to you. If it were me though-)

Ranpo:

Ranpo likes clinging to your arms, skin-to-skin contact, and just generally clambering on top of you and holding you like a koala. Safe to say, he's very happy about your choice of jammies

When he first slept in the same bed as you and you wore a tank top he probably didn't even notice. The most important thing in his brain was 'must cling to Y/N', which he did!

But it felt nice having another person to cuddle with :) especially because it wouldn't get too hot when you did cuddle, as opposed to if you were wearing like flannel pyjamas or something

Ranpo honestly doesn't really care too much about what you wear when you sleep (he is going to hug you either way) but he's not complaining.

Ranpo probably doesn't wear many clothes to sleep either (autistic things <3) so he doesn't really see it as a sexual thing as much as Dazai does. In his head nobody really wears thick pyjamas to sleep so to him it's totally normal

He likes to nuzzle his head into the crook of your neck and inhale your scent, because he finds it comforting.

Also probably nibbles/bites your neck lol

Would he start wearing a tank top as well? ...maybe

Chuuya:

Chuuya isn't a pervert like Dazai (at least not as blatantly, anyway). But he's not at all gonna object to you wearing a tank top because it highlights your chest and torso and that is his favourite place to put his hands when y'all sleep

He's one of those guys who puts his hands under your top and like rubs your stomach/hips (in a comforting way ofc)

The first time he slept with you he was probably a little red faced at the amount of exposed skin, but he eventually got used to it and now he loves it

Chuuya is certainly a cuddler but if it were summer and you were dressed in a tank top he might not touch you as much because he'd understand that you might get a bit too warm.

Chuuya is so polite- he always asks if you're alright with him holding you, and doesn't really let his hands wander too much

Chuuya is not a man who has received very much physical affection, like ever. Like Ranpo he probably really cherishes the fact that you're comfortable and willing to let him be close to you

Traces little patterns on your shoulders :')

Always compliments you on how soft your skin is and how nice it feels to caress. If you have freckles on your arms/shoulders he thinks they're adorable too <3

btw i'm cool with writing suggestive stuff like this- just not like EXPLICIT smut. not only do i feel awkward writing it but i'm also just so bad at it lmao. ya girl loves a bit of sensual cuddling/making out every now and then

[valentine-cafe]

how would rasui feel about a lover who is constantly clining to him because they're so, so cold all of the time? any time he's home or you're around him, you're just attached at the hip, always cuddling just trying to steal all his warmth... of course you reward him with lovings and kisses in return to him dealing with having you around all the time.

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ verse 9948e rasui

. ˚◞꒰ 🍰 ꒱fire elemental x reader, mercenary leader x reader ⊹ ۪ ࣪

oh rasui is all over a lover like this. as someone who is beyond touch-starved - he loves having you hanging off of him 24/7. especially because of how busy at work he can get.

“you using me for my warmth?” he would tease. if only to chuckle and kiss away your soft “noooos” and “don’t say thaatttt.”

he especially loves when you nestle yourself into his lap and cling onto him so tightly. slipping your hands beneath his shirt so that you can feel his skin. he always rests his chin against your head or buries his face into your shoulder.

recently, he found out that you also love it when he lays down onto you. so that you can feel his heat. initially he was a bit hesitant on that because of his body weight but you kept assuring him that you were fine.

“are you sure? last thing I wish to do is break you back.”

“break it, it’s fine.”

“what?”

“break. it.”

in general he also loves how affectionate you get whenever you cling onto him. your seas of kisses and cuddles. he always makes sure to give all of it back as much as he possibly can. he knows that you hate whenever he has to leave in the mornings or during emergency missions.

so he’ll always leave you with a few extra kisses and cuddles. always makes sure to kiss your head when he comes back and you immediately wrap yourself around him again.

[notsodailykurudoro]

Day 50

He clenched his jaw in uncertainty, glancing at the other then at the screens in front of him a couple of times before nodding, perhaps a little more clumsily than he would have liked and instantly thanking the impossibility of such a gesture to reach the ninja's dysfunctional eyes.

“Yeah, go on, suit yourself, hope you washed your hands.” He agreed, vocally this time, feigning nonchalance and pairing it with useless gestures that would go unnoticed.

Dororo looked pleased, that empty gaze brimming with patience sharing an indivisible smile.

“I can assure you that I take good care of my personal hygiene.” He spoke, beneath the mask, emphasizing the statement with both hands in the air.

Kururu held back the need to cackle, the verbal tic dying in his throat as he swallowed. He turned around in his spot, giving the taller frog free space to do his thing, intrigue and anxiety building up in his stomach, perfectly masked and with plenty of advantage.

“If you get to feel uncomfortable, I shall stop with just one word from you.” The ninja warned, getting closer to the technician with smooth, fluid movements.

“Ahhh… Safe word?”

“Uh… If you so desire then, yes.”

“Curry.”

“Very well-”

The Sergeant Major used every fiber of self control he had over his body at that moment to not jump when he felt a hand position itself on one side of his face, considerably colder than the rest of his body and yet abnormally smooth, a phantom touch gradually pressing against the skin. He wanted to swallow again but repressed it too, outlining further the permanent grimace on his face and fixing his attention on the concentrated expression of his partner, his own eyelids closed, brow barely furrowed.

He inhaled, it wasn't hard for him to be quiet, that's how he usually went through life. That's how he managed to scare unsuspecting morons who didn't detect his unnerving presence, and that was just yet another thing that united them both.

Still, the temptation to say something was almost unbearable, almost, he was bad at this kind of thing, he wasn't even entirely sure in which tone of the sociocultural spectrum of his universe or remotely anywhere around it could fall whatever was happening at that moment.

Dororo kept going anyhow, groping, cold phantasmagorical touch tracing the general shape of his face, (It wasn't like it was that hard.) running his fingers along the surface of his skin, at some point adding the opposite hand to the equation.

He could almost see the calculations running through the shinobi's brain, how he processed the new information, how he reacted to it, and he hated to admit that it made him uneasy too. So far Dororo had only heard his voice and a few descriptions of him, he had never let him lay a hand on him and it was more than justified. Nothing personal, he was just very reluctant to foreign contact. Reluctant to show himself to anyone in general, figuratively speaking. Letting himself be mapped by a blind ninja fell into the category of showing a certain level of vulnerability and that made him somewhat nervous.

Dororo ran his thumbs over a certain spot on his cheeks and massaged it a little, the slight movement of his brow rising indicating that he had noticed something. Kururu thought he knew what.

“I don't like them, people usually associate them with something cute.”

“Oh...?” The ninja was slow at getting towards a proper reaction. “Oh! Honestly, I find them unusual in the best of ways.”

Kururu clicked his tongue.

He moved on from that spot, even though he took his time there was a distant premeasured urgency in what he did, just starting to break out in a cold sweat. The technician noticed it and tilted his grin, feeling slight sympathy at their mutual nerves, somewhat amused by the strange intimacy of the situation.

He traced his lips relatively quickly, as if he had already came to terms with the fact that the mocking bite of his words was due to a habit of arching his mouth and only half-confirmed suspicions when he finished. Kururu considered the remote possibility of saying Curry.

He moved up to his eyes, slowly, giving him time to close his eyelids so as not hurt him accidentaly, Kururu moved forward and raised his glasses, letting them rest on the top of his head, held in place by the red cap he wore, he needed a break anyway.

“...You shouldn't have such an unfavorable sleep schedule.” He commented after a moment of inspection, thumbs placed on the heavy bags under his partner’s overly tired orbs.

“You’d be surprised what three days of being awake can do to a motherfucker.” The Sergeant mocked, chuckling to himself with one eye half open.

“We’ll discuss about it later.” His frown deepened, stern, though not annoyed.

“If you can get to remember, ku-ku-ku-”

Dororo shook his head, amused, continuing with his work.

He felt his superior’s face with his entire hand, several times, doing the same with the surroundings of his head, noticing the headphones, which explained a few more things.

He went down, groping, stroking, massaging, mentally drawing his partner's superior build and being rather pleased with what he kept discovering, such feeling spreading towards the happiness with the progress he was making with the yellow devil.

He knew Kururu, he knew what the people said about him, and he had experienced it first hand too; a brilliant misunderstood mind that enjoyed himself committing misdeeds, no matter how far fetched they tended to go, but as the interactions became more and more frequent between them, such only by fate, he not only discovered that there was more beneath the senseless chaos, but they both found out about the similarities between them and at the same time the abysmal difference in their personalities. They had his jabs here and there, a bit of psychological warfare, some gaslight, some failed attempts at moral instigation, some succeeded attempts at moral instigation, but they managed to get along either way.

He recalled for a moment the law of magnetism, more specifically the Sergeant's voice explaining said rule, and he couldn't help but smile.

He accidentally pinched the skin of the yellow frog’s stomach, instantly the unexpected reaction on the part of the shorter one being not only to squirm but to let out a short laugh against his will. He could have sworn he heard a messy try at pronouncing “curry” before his brief outburst.

“Ah, my apologies!” He quickly pulled both hands away, raising them defensively.

Kururu had shrunk into himself, cursing internally. He knew the reason why tickling happened, he was only giving himself away and could only hope that said nonsense would go unnoticed by the shinobi like almost everything else he did outside his non-existent vision.

He swallowed.

“... It’s okay.” He didn’t want to hear him apologize a thousand times.

He relaxed gradually, normalizing his breathing.

“Continue.”

Dororo nodded shortly, returning his phalanges to the scientist’s body. Soft, once again that phantom touch that was becoming more noticeable as it moved along his arms. Kururu wondered for a moment if it was necessary to be memorizing the shape of his extremities, and in general anything other than his face, but decided not to give comments on it.

It kept sending shivers down his spine with every patch of skin that wasn’t used to the contact, which was practically all of him, and he hated it, blaming it entirely to the physical reactions he had absolutely no control over and making more excuses the more scenarios he came up with.

Another deep breath helped him normalize his heartbeat, trying with all his might to not show even a pinch of reaction to the crushing reality of his touch-starved self, a fact he lived trying to push under absolute denial and his in fact very true hatred and discomfort for the physical.

Dororo, to his luck, seemed to remain oblivious to all of this, perhaps unable to understand said affliction, too clumsy to read the room as usual or perhaps too noble to decide not to comment on it.

“You’re… very tense.”

“I’mnot.”

“I can… stop, if that’s what you want.”

“I’mfine.”

Concern settled on the shinobi's features, his eyes opening completely, showing those expressionless pearls that still found a way to shine through his blooming emotions, giving himself away like an open book. Or at least a book only readable by someone with an exceptional ability to analyze other people.

“... Curry?”

“... Yes.”

“Very well…”

He politely withdrew, taking some distance.

Kururu let out the air he didn't know he had been holding. The glasses fell into place.

He practically deflated in his seat, taking advantage once again of not being visible to other’s eyes.

That had been intense and he had no idea why.

“Have I done something wrong?”

“No…”

“I can leave if-”

“No.”

He remained silent, they both did.

Although their long pauses were characterized by not being uncomfortable as both had a certain taste for the lack of sound, now the same stillness seemed suffocating, more so for the yellow sociopath.

“... Did ya get what'cha wanted?” He lazily spoke.

“Oh, yes, indeed, and I thank you deeply for the opportunity.”

“Good.”

And there it was again.

The Sergeant Major bit his lower lip, hard, longing to make himself bleed and take advantage for the umpteenth consecutive time that he couldn't see him. But it would be annoying to clean up afterwards and he was pretty sure that Dororo could smell blood.

He'd gone and done it several times, reminded him of a hound even. Maybe it was pretty obvious if he thought about it for a bit.

Sometimes he can't help but wonder what things are like for him. Like sure he has trouble seeing because he has like eighteen thousand degrees of myopia, but he knows it's not the same thing.

“... Do you smell colors?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Forget it. I was thinking about what I would do if I plucked my eyes out, kuukukukuku-”

“Oh god…” he paused briefly to grimace before processing. “… Were you pondering what it feels like to lack vision?”

“… Sorta."

“I could teach you if you like.”

“You ain't going to pluck my eyes out, shinobi.”

“Good grief, no! I would never commit such an atrocity!”

“Kuuukukukukuku-”

“I mean it!”

“I’m fuckin’ with you, don’t let it keep you awake… What'chu got in mind?”

“Ah…” The ninja pouted, indivisible as ever, before standing up. “Do you happen to have a way to make the place completely dark?”

Kururu already knew where this was going. He thought about it for a few beats.

“Aye.”

He turned back on his chair, then skillfully pressed a series of buttons to write the necessary command, a small confirmation screen materializing on the board that soon disappeared when he pressed the “accept @u@” box next to the “I messed up @m@” one.

A distinctive sound took out all the lights in the place, which, being reinforced and thousands of meters underground, managed to remain completely dark.

“Haven’t done this since that time some idiot snuck in. I think he’s still lost on level G8, kukuku-”

Dororo refused to inquire about that.

“Perfect, now, can you see my hand?”

The Sergeant tried to turn to where he thought the ninja was, obviously failing in the attempt, though not by far.

“No.”

“Can you get up and follow my voice?”

“‘K”

And he tried.

Surrounded by nothing but darkness, he reached out for his partner, muscle memory keeping him from colliding with the scattered scrap metal and other irregularities on the ground.

“Keep talkin’.”

“I’m over here.”

Was it only him, or did he seemed farther away now?

“When one of your senses has abandoned you, the most important thing is-”

“Sharpen the others, blah blah blah, I know, I’ve heard that crap a lot.”

“...”

An unfamiliar hand gave him a small push and disappeared before he could turn around and return the gesture.

Funny.

He was tempted to activate some function on his hearing aids or even his glasses, but they were doing this peculiar activity for a reason, so instead he closed his eyes and tried to concentrate.

Dororo was fast, skilled, too much so for someone who can’t see, however his footsteps and movements sometimes followed a certain pattern, as well as making a sound, very barely perceptible, but it was there, it was like hearing a leaf stick to your face, if that made any sense.

But now he couldn't see, and he didn't know very well where it started either, so the best he could do was guess.

Or listen to what he told him for the first time in his life.

"I think you're cheating."

"Often what you throw can come back to hit you in the face, sir."

"Are you still upset about that time I left you in my mind and forgot about it?"

"N-No-...!"

Kururu smiled, his head turning gravitationally towards Dororo's almost exact direction.

"I should be the upset one, I'm almost sure you saw things you shouldn't have seen..."

“I disagree, that experience allowed me to know that you are a Keronian and not an Oni born from the agony and misfortune of others!”

“That’s where you’re wrong, Doro…”

The ninja felt a chill run down his spine, and before he could respond to Kururu’s provocations two unknown hands grabbed him by the shoulders from behind and pulled towards that direction.

“I am.” Kururu mumbled, gruffier than usual, before giving him a small push and letting go.

If he didn’t know who was there and what they were playing, Dororo would probably have died of a heart attack right on the spot. He put a hand on his chest.

“...Well played.”

The technician's peculiar nasal laugh echoed around the place, as if being cast through speakers, even though he was standing in the same place. He considered the possibility that perhaps he was an Oni born from the agony and misfortune of others.

Freaky.

“So? What did I won?” The yellow frog asked, mockingly.

There was no answer.

“…I won?”

“You did.”

Two familiar hands positioned themselves on either side of his face, immediate panic setting in on the technician’s currently invisible features.

“Hah!?” He practically spat, alarms ringing and bursting inside his head.

He felt an alien breath inches away from him, all of his senses began to sharpen and he feared the allegory as much as the assumption. He froze under the trained assassin’s cold touch, and for some reason the possibility of saying “curry” didn’t even crossed his mind.

He found himself leaning in before he could command his body to do so, and before he could literally process anything they both connected.

shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit

Kururu's mind was buzzing, pure interference mixed with confused and incomplete sensations, all amidst an endless darkness that would remain that way until he staggered to the switch, if he could manage to find it.

They parted, one as stiff as a board left for weeks in an industrial freezer and the other melting from embarrassment, his palms sweaty and his face uncovered.

“cool.” they said in unison, both grateful that eye contact was a near-permanent impossibility.

And a new kind of silence settled in.

It was neither comforting nor unpleasant, much less one they actively fought to combat but neither one they would endure for long.

Kururu cleared his throat, Dororo coughed.

“I’m going to assume that was the… touch lesson, or… some….”

“The what?”

“You know, senses, contact.”

“Ah, yes… AH, yes! Precisely!”

“Well… I think I want to retake the test, didn’t get to study very well, kuukukuku-”

“I shall gladly impart this lesson again.”

Dororo gave a small bow, which was surprisingly caught by Kururu.

And so they kissed in the dark for the next two hours.

This doesnt count as kissing cuz it's not a drawing fuck you..........

[that-one-creepy-hoe]

do you have like general or relationship head canons for ej? :)

I love talking about one of my 348 husbands!1!1

Eyeless Jack General + Relationship Hcs

Warnings:Basically fluff, EJ just being autistic, I think I used no pronouns I think Pairings: EyelessJack x GN!Reader

General HeadCannons

 He is a very big quiet man

To me, he’s probably 6’’9 at his full height

But he does hunch over a lot because he is aware of how much his height makes some people scared of him

While he typically doesn’t care about if regular people, or if the proxies are scared of him, he does do it mostly so the more timid people don’t get frightened 

He’s basically a mute until he absolutely has to speak

His voice is very rough and deep from years of not being used much

I headcanon him to be autistic with slight OCD issues 

Because of this, he sticks to his routine and wears lots of baggy clothes because he cannot stand most skin-to-skin contact

Actively recoils when people are too close or touch him

Tends to obsessively reorganize his things constantly

While he may seem shy he is not a pushover of any kind

He only knows how to be a weird kind of nice that most people don’t take as nice/ Really cold and distant

He’s kind of like a cat where he just watches people he likes without care

He has lots of scars on his jaw and the corners of his mouth from his teeth(I hc that he clawed through his cheeks when he first turned bc he couldn’t handle the way his teeth felt in his mouth)

He’s always unusually hot or ice cold and really can’t tell too well

If you want to ever get close to him you would most likely need to be close to Hoodie, or Sally

He’s a nice guy just very out of touch with the world around him

Romantic HeadCannons 

If you somehow romanced this man I applaud you because he absolutely hates being around people unless he thinks they’re cute (in a small kid/ pet kind of way) or if they can have an actual intelligent conversation with him(AKA hoodie)

But somehow you have wormed your way into his dead heart and at first he will most definitely hate you for it

He doesn’t like the feeling of being attached at first (Since he’s far too used to people betraying him) but soon he craves for you

Expect him to attempt to have charisma (he has none)

Think crow that gives its favorite human weird gifts 

If you try talking to him that might help just try not to be too loud

Be ready to do enough talking for the both of you

Once he warms up he will speak some here and there

He’ll give you things he thinks you might like such as; books, clothes, trinkets

If you give him things he will absolutely adore you and never get rid of it

You will most definitely have to be the one to initiate a relationship even then he may think your joking

If you reassure him then he’ll get soft for you and let you do things that he would normally hate (EX: touching him, being louder, borrowing his things)

He’s really insecure about himself so be ready to reassure him a bunch

Total romantic lover, poetry, letters, candle-lit dinners, all of it

[poppurini]

holding his hand

incl. malleus & f!reader┊reader wears a dress

note. not proofread i word vomit

malleus was deprived of physical touch ever since birth. aside from his grandmother and the country’s trusted general, people and animals alike have avoided him like plague if possible. servants back at the castle bowed their heads and retreated quickly whenever they spotted him, birds have fled and the animals have left their precious dinner behind when malleus stepped into their vicinity.

the man understands since childhood that it was due to his position and the power he possessed, but he would never harm them. he was certain he would never abuse his power and harm innocent creatures, he was not a monster. well, he was a little upset with the way he’s being treated but it never really occupied much of his mind, really. he had stopped gazing out windows, standing on his tippy toes when he was a mere toddler to watch the town children running around and play-fighting with each other. it had stopped bothering him, he had grown accustomed to it. only until this very moment where he’s sat beside you, that is.

to others, it may have been a little embarrassing. the future king of briar valley had fallen quick and deep for this child of man he had coincidentally met during one of his strolls in the forest. it was cliché, really. but how could he not be intrigued by someone who did not flee at the sight of him? instead you held an endearing curiosity in your eyes, clearly alarmed by the stranger but still, you did not flee.

his feet brought him back to the very same spot the next day, hoping to encounter you again and, well, maybe make a friend? he never had a friend. he should take the initiative. malleus preferred you come out from hiding first, though. surely you’re aware of him noticing your presence? he had chuckled a little, this human was poor at being discreet.

and before malleus knew it, his heart yearned for you. not a second goes by where his mind was not occupied by the intriguing girl he had met that fateful day. the young fae finished his lessons quickly and stepped out, he’d hate to be late and make you wait.

malleus hope he wasn’t being too obvious about it but oh, what is this feeling, anyway? he does not know, but he likes it. he likes the way you make him feel, it was such a pleasant feeling he find himself smiling at the mere thought of you.

there is one thing troubling him, however. he wishes to hold you oh so desperately. the distance between you two had closed gradually the more you see each other but he still could not find the courage in him to just initiate touch. yes, the mighty fae was shy. how embarrassing, truly.

he had a hunch you reciprocated his feelings, malleus had seen the bashful look on your face when he draped his coat over your lap. it was windy that day, you looked a little cold to the man and your pretty dress did not cover all of you, he find the way you stuttered thanks adorable.

it was a gesture that occurred to him naturally, he hadn’t thought much about it. but holding hands? oh, how scandalous.

he had given much thought about how he should execute it. i mean, he could really just ask outright. may i hold your hand? that wasn’t hard, but it would be extremely sudden and maybe a little awkward, he admit. or he could sneak his way in? you are sitting very close to each other, after all. if anything the slight graze of your skin against his was driving him to the edge. if only there was something that—

“I pricked my finger today, did you know that some flowers have thorns on them? So scary!” a small laugh escaped you while recalling the little accident you had today, too distracted by its beauty. there was definitely still much to learn for you.

you showed him the small injury, the blood had stopped but it still stings, you told him. malleus’ gaze softened as he gently held your hand. “You should’ve been more careful, child of man.” concern laced his voice as he casted magic, healing your little injury. “Does it still hurt?”

the look you had made him smile. it was but a simple spell, the most basic one, and yet it got you so astonished. there were many surprises to you that he could not wait to unravel them all.

it wasn’t long until malleus stiffened, his heart racing in its cage, threatening to burst. he was holding your hand in his, and you did not pull away. even after the little treatment was done.

he cleared his throat and prepared to pull away, an apology already at the tip of his tongue but you held on. you took his hand in yours and even sat closer to the man with a quiet giggle, almost leaning against him.

“Thanks, Malmal.”

you continued on about the adventures you had today while mindlessly playing with his slender fingers, and it didn’t take malleus long to intertwine them with yours as he hummed in response to your stories.

[mackjlee9]

SONGFIC IDEA inspired on "ilomilo" by Billie Eilish

maybe reader got abducted or kidnapped while in a stablished relationship with Leon, they did so many experiments on him that he doesn't know what's real and what's fake anymore so when Leon rescues him he's so fucked up he believes Leon is part of his mind, that he's not real.

this one could be HEAVY ANGST but i'll leave that up to you since this is just a general idea. Reader could die? Reader could simply stay in a mental facility getting tortured and his only source of happiness is seeing Leon even if he believes is an hallucination? Reader could one day actually know that Leon is real? Get yourself inspired by the song since these are just ideas!

Also this is kinda my first time requesting a songfic so idk if this is good lmao

I love when my own angst makes me cry 🙂

Leon Kennedy x Male!Reader [Angst]

Masterlist.

Resident Evil

"Don't worry, Lee, I'll be back soon, I promise."

Told you not to worry

But maybe that's a lie

Maybe I shouldn't make promises I can't keep, eh? (M/n) could feel his head spinning, all the blood he lost being the cause of it.

He was trying to keep his eyes open, to maybe try and see the person that had done this to him. Perhaps he would be able to identify them once they were captured, but all attempts were useless, his sight was getting more and more blurry as the seconds passed. All he could do was hear the booming sound of a bullet being shot, a few tears brimming in his eyes as (M/n) realized everyone in his unit was dead, or close to dying

"We'll take good care of you, Agent," he heard a woman whispering in his ear, kneeling in front of him, gently brushing his hair out of the way.

(M/n) opened his mouth to say something, but he had used the last bit of his energy, his eyes closing as he passed out. The woman giggled and glanced behind her, the man standing there smirked and signaled to the B.O.Ws standing aside to pick him up and take him to the van waiting for them in the parking lot.

No one would find them, not until he had finished with (M/n) first.

Where did you go?

I should know, but it's cold

And I don't wanna be lonely

Leon... Leon...

Was all (M/n) could think when everything done to him was over, when his body was left twitching and pulsing against his will, unable to stop the reactions of his body to whatever had been injected into him.

He would close his eyes and think of Leon, seeing his lover was the only thing that could ground him, keep him somehow sane.

(M/n) hated being in that room. It was always cold, it made goosebumps cover his skin, and he knew his breath was foggy, but feeling Leon's touch on his was enough to warm him up for days on end. But then, he would see how Leon would slowly disappear, and (M/n) knew he was about to be put through the same thing again.

And every time it happened it just got longer and longer, or felt like it did.

I don't wanna... be alone, Leon, where... Where did you go...?

Blinking a few times, he would be greeted with the same bright light, surrounded by people wearing surgical masks and sometimes, chemical protection suits.

You're... Probably at home, or... Looking for me... Please, find me soon...

//////

The moment Leon was notified of what had happened to (M/n) during his mission, he froze. Everyone's voices faded out, and he felt like he was being kept underwater, he couldn't breathe.

He was monetarily lost in a trance, when the flashing image of (M/n)'s lifeless body appeared in his mind, as if mocking him. Leon slammed his hands on the table as he stood up, snapping back to reality.

I can't lose another life

"I'm not losing (M/n) too."

//////

Hurry, I'm worried

The world's a little blurry

Or maybe it's my eyes

With every minute, hour, or day that passed, everything got worse. (M/n) could feel his body slowly giving up, quicker with each time he got subjugated to these experiments.

It got to a point where he no longer knew what was fake and what was real, he didn't know if he was even alive anymore, and yet, the only thing that continued to work, the only thing that kept him awake every day, was Leon. Thinking about Leon let him that he was alive, the heat he felt surge through his body, the feeling of his heart speeding up, the homey atmosphere Leon brought with him was more than enough for him.

Leon sits with him, next to his bed and they talk, and Leon loves him the only way he knew Leon would.

(M/n) blinks when everything around him gets blurry, and he realizes that it's his sight the one distorting everything. Are they... Done now?

His thought process is slow, difficult, and rather painful for him, but he's able to understand the things happening around him. (M/n) hears guns being fired, explosions going off, people screaming and then alarms echoing everywhere. He grunts in pain and his eyes stare at the door as it opens.

"Leon...?" He whispers breathlessly, his voice gone from all his screaming, so it's impossible to hear him over the sounds of the sirens, but Leon didn't need to hear him to know that (M/n) was calling out to him.

His legs trembled as he ran further inside the room, tripping and falling to his knees next to his bed, picking himself up and hugging (M/n) tightly, tears running down his face nonstop, choked sobs racking in his chest, his hands desperate gripping onto (M/n) to make sure he was there, alive.

(M/n) had a small smile on his face, his arm slowly lifting to stroke Leon's soft strands, making the man look up at him. Struggling to move his body even an inch, Leon held his hand and nuzzled his cheek on his palm, sobbing as he felt (M/n)'s thumb gracing his warm skin as he wiped his tears away.

"I feel safe... When I'm with you, Leon... I'll always will..."

The friends I've had to bury

They keep me up at night

Leon would never forget how (M/n) died in his arms the moment he got to him. The soft and loving look in his fading eyes, the gentle and understanding smile pulling on his lips, the touch of his burning hand becoming colder by the second.

He had been staying on (M/n)'s grave every day since his burial. He didn't care that he was slowly killing himself, he had lost the only thing- the only person in this fucked up world that had given him some hope in his life. (M/n) was his light at the end of the tunnel, but now he was in complete darkness, because lights eventually run out, and sometimes... You can never replace them, because you could never find a light as bright and lasting as that one.

Said I couldn't love someone

'Cause I might break

Every day he stays there, basking in his memories, unable to stop beating himself up for not finding (M/n) sooner. If he only had been there a day earlier then maybe- maybe he would still be alive.

"I just wanted to protect you," he mumbled weakly, his voice breaking as he let himself be drenched in the pouring rain, at least his tears were unnoticeable now. No one would know how long and how much he has been crying for the past two weeks.

No one needed to know. He would only cause problems for everyone anyway.

Was hoping you'd come home

I don't care if it's a lie

[swarmishstrangers]

i’ll give you my entire left tiddy for some more mspar alien difference fluff. written or drawn, with mallek or marvus or pretty much anyone else. warm blooded/cold blooded cuddles with marvus. mallek purring and being embarrassed abt it. mspar not realizing they’re being flirted with til someone spells it out to them. just any troll/human (??) difference shit or any of your hcs please i’m starving

Starve no more!! I'll feed you AND me cause I honestly fucking live for alien differences between trolls and humans like? Omg...I'll try to sneak some Mallek and Marvus for ya since you seem to mention both of them (and I'll throw in some other ones for more comparisons >:])

So for general troll temperature headcanons, let me tell you, you'd better enjoy being cold/not be too bothered by it cause the higher on the spectrum, the colder the blood you're touching and cuddling. The warmest a troll will ever be is if they're a mutantblood, the closest thing to getting to normal human body temperatures and the ones with any real warmth to them. Rust bloods being the lowest on the hemospectrum that aren't mutants don't have as much warmth but still tend to run warmer than other blood types on the hemospectrum. Not exactly lukewarm, little bit warmer than that. When we hit the goldbloods, that's when it starts getting lukewarm temperatures. Smack dab in the middle of the spectrum, the Jades, aren't very warm or anything, but it's a few hairs away from being able to consider them cold feeling. Anything above the jades is when things start getting cold.

Teals you could say are cold, maybe not unpleasantly so, you could feel such a difference that you would no longer feel any real warmth. Cerulean is when the temperatures could be so stark as opposed to human warmth that coming into direct skin to skin contact with it could definitely shock your skin and make you flinch initially. Purples are. Man. Remember how I said you'd better like being cold? This is where the cold could be the brink of being unpleasant for some who can't handle it very well, it really starts setting in the longer you choose stay in physical contact with them. Violets, I'd argue, would be downright unpleasantly cold to the touch, like, you know how if you go outside in the snow and your body feels numb and face would be stinging? Like that.

With that general stuff of how perceive the coldness of some trolls established. Um. Mallek and Marvus :} I'm going to apologize in advance, Marvus is a character I've always been intimidated by in terms of writing. I feel like I just don't get him enough, and I'd hate to mischaracterize him :(( but I'll do my best!! (Putting a break here cause I type a lot)

Marvus and Mallek I feel like have a tendency to be mischievous little shits sometimes, once becoming aware and acquainted with the warmth Mspar emits and how cold they are in comparison they like to have fun with it. Mallek likes to do that thing some people do, ya know, where people take something fucking cold like a thing of ice cream or an ice cold drink and fucking PRESS it against your skin and it makes you scream? That. But no ice cream, it's his hand touching their bare skin (which still makes them shriek and jolt in surprise). They turn around and playfully smack him on the shoulder in retaliation.

Marvus likes doing the same thing but for him GOD FUCK the cold feels so much worse than Mallek. Bitch IS the ice being pressed against your skin. He doesn't even need to use his whole hand, he could press a finger to them and get a reaction. Punching doesn't do much to Mallek anyways, trolls and their thicker skins, but Marvus doesn't have a lot of squish to begin with. It's weird punching someone who feels so..solid? Not to say he's got absolutely no squish, but he has very little of it.

Cuddling... ahehhehehe cracks knuckles.

Since I'm already talking about Marvus lemme get to him already. Since he is a freezer, it'll take a bit to get fully comfortable laying against him. Warmth can overpower or balance out a trolls temperature, this is something that's very hard to do with bloods higher than indigo. Something like either them or Marvus wearing a good amount of clothing to separate makes it to where they don't feel immediately uncomfortable with the chill of his skin. Marvus I feel like is kinda finicky when it comes to touch or laying for long periods of time?? It's kinda funny, you could hug him, and he'd allow it for just a few seconds before he'd wiggle his way out of it, a playful look to his eyes. Or allowing you to rub his skin for a bit before pulling away. Only when he's tired or is ready to be settled in completely is when you can really, for real, cuddle him without him squirming out of it.

Now Mallek? Umpfh. Touch starved. Mspar too actually, I headcanon that they are a touched starved person themselves. So how about two touched starved people help another out..by cuddling. And everything else that involves touch under the moon really.

For him, he kinda loses it when he's in physical contact with them. It's the warmth! It really gets to him, and it makes his brain go nuts. He used to fight the overwhelming urge to wrap them up really tight in his arms cause ya know. Snake brain, cold, friend/flushcrush is warm, curl around the warmth. He didn't fight it anymore when they actively sought out physical touch from him themselves and was actively encouraging him and letting him know it was okay to search for it back.

It was through being around him that they discovered the most surprising thing they never thought of a troll doing. Purring.

They have never heard of a sound as soft as purring coming from a troll.

Trolls only purr in the presence of those they feel the utmost comfort with. To feel the safest with, to trust them the most, and to be at your most vulnerable with. It's super intimate stuff in troll culture. Hearing that anywhere out in public could make trolls snap their head in that direction and make them flush in the face. Get a room!!

I imagine it was one of those many days where they stayed over at his hive. They had just decided that they were done playing video games and it from leaning against each other in silence while the game systems powered off, then it transitioned into Mspar coaxing Mallek to lay on then while they had their back laid down on his lounge plank. His weight against them was comforting to them.

They were just nuzzling his shoulder and rubbing their hands all up and down his back and sides, all with no patterns to it. He had his face pressed against their chest, his arms pushed underneath them to wrap around them. They could feel his smile against their skin, and they were all smiles and happy, too. Then they, well, they felt it before they heard it.

It was something they didn't even notice at first, the rumbling, the small vibrations emitting from his throat and chest. When it was growing stronger and the purring became audible, they still didn't question it at first. They were just so comfortable, and the cuddling was just so nice, his purring could put them to sleep and...wait. Purring?

When the realization of Mallek purring hit them, they temporarily halted their hand movements. Mallek stayed put for a bit before his purring stuttered a little, and he cracked an eyelid open to gaze at them, wondering why they stopped. He finds them kind of staring at him, their hands still under his tank top just stopped on his back.

"you okay;"

This snaps them out of it and they and they lean in to kiss his forehead, Mallek snorts in response and immediately relaxes against them again.

They kindaaa wanted to point it out at in the moment but ultimately decided against it so that he didn't get embarrassed or shy and stops. They think it's SUPER fucking cute.

As for general differences between troll and human romance? Cracks fingers. Obviously it depends on what quadrant a troll is interested in having you in. I'll go with red romance for now unless someone later wants the other quads too lol.

I talked about purring before and purring is a BIG one. Purring is how trolls communicate that they feel absolutely safe and comfortable in their partners presence along with purring being a form to heal when their partner is hurt or isn't feeling well. It leaves them very open and vulnerable and so it feels very intimate for most trolls. A troll purring in the presence of human they're interested in a human may not pick up the significance of it so they just see it at its simplest until explained. Some trolls may feel a little hurt when their human partners don't pick up on their purring and they don't purr back in response, again, until explained that humans aren't capable of making sounds such as purring. Make no mistake though! Troll purring does not sound like how a cat's would. It's sounds like how you would imagine an insect purring would sound like.

Sleeping in the presence of a person you're interested in or around your partner is another big thing trolls do. Sleeping near other trolls is again, a vulnerability thing. To sleep near someone? To be so open and let your guard down like that? To trust someone that much? Wipes sweat from brow. Humans being able to do this with trolls they're even a little comfortable with is absolutely flabbergasting to most trolls.

Okay there's sleeping when someone is nearby...then there's sleeping WITH someone. No not like that ya nasties. Sleeping with someone, in their recuperacoon, it's a vulnerability thing again woo boy. It's the HIGHEST form of trust a troll could show their partner! The significance of this can really go over a human's head, they truly don't understand the gravity of trust at play here.

Here's something not sleep related. Scent marking. This one is more subtle than just. A partner wearing their sign or typing the way their typing quirk is. This one is when a troll leaves something, take a shirt or their socks or something, at their partners hive. It leaves a bit of them, their scent, there and it's meant for their partners + any other trolls that are over know. Humans tend to also seek their partner's scent/how they smell (think stealing your partners clothes), it's another thing that means more deeply than they originally think about.

[ambrosalovesyou]

Just a thought (I am not confident enough w my writing to write this out like as a whole fanfic so…)

- imagine you are a siren, and you work under Azul as a sort of trap for the boys of NRC so that Azul can get more contracts.

- as a siren, you’re naturally alluring, and you amped it up considerably ever since you signed a contract w Azul. You get paid by the amount of people who pay him / sign a contract with him.

- let’s say the way this works is generally simple: you find a man, your target, and flirt with him. Your melodic voice lured him in, and your touches were so fleeting to him. You tell him you love a man who is open about his feelings, so he tells you about his sorrows. You tell him that Azul can fix these problems. (Or, if you’re really cold, you tell him that you can’t be with him because he isn’t pretty enough, causing him to go to Azul to fix that).

- No matter the method, you are very good at luring them in. All for the expense of your love and affections, or that they genuinely believe that Azul can help them because why would someone as beautiful and sweet as you lie to him?

- When the day is done, you make a trip to Azul’s office and collect your payment. You’re so valuable that weekly or monthly paychecks aren’t enough - you’re an expensive siren, and you need the best to keep up your appearance!

- Of course, Azul obliges. Ever since you showed up, business has been booming! You kiss him on the cheek everytime, you were a sort of dog on a leash for him. (And honestly you didn’t really mind, the idea of you with a chain around your neck with Azul holding the other end and smirking down at you is pleasant imagery. You’re a siren! You’re born to be promiscuous!)

- You were easy to maintain compared to the twins, you found it fun to trick people, to see men grovel and weep for you, about their issues, and for them to inevitably not fulfil their contracts and have to work for Azul for however long.

- However, Azul was… changing. He’s been giving you some excuses for you to see him whenever possible, he believed that maybe if you saw him more in his office, you’d leave him with a new kiss mark each time. But no - you’d only ever do it if you’re collecting your paycheck.

- sometimes he would ramble about his business and you’d go “aw, wow, I’m happy for you! Good job, darling~” and his stomach would do flips but he would reprimand you with a blushing face.

- Jade and Floyd are catching on, you can hear them chuckling or Floyd going “hey hey, Azul, you got a thing for the siren now~?” Or “gross… PDA, keep that to yourself!”

- and what doesnt help at all is the fact you have been going online putting yourself on the line. The boys you send in always go “I want (Y/N) to be mine! You can’t keep them here against their will!”

- have you been telling people that you’re kept here against your will? Azul suspects it’s just to make them scared and have a sense of urgency to protect you or to save you like a ‘woe is me damsel/dude in distress’ sort of thing, but what if it’s true?? Do you hate him?

- Contracts have become even more stressful than usual now too. Of course with you on the line, Floyd and Jade have to make sure that the contract fails each time, so that you don’t get taken from him.

- and then you laugh when he tells you off and just blow him a kiss? Like! The nerve! Seriously, listen to him, will you?

- one day, when you came to pick up your check after a week of this ‘I’ll save (Y/N)’ nonsense, you got the check from his desk and walked out WITHOUT giving him a kiss on the cheek.

- “aren’t you forgetting something?” He asked, and you turned around with a smirk. “Oh, did I?” He felt his skin turn red with embarrassment, like a tomato. He always thought he had you on a leash, but it turns out it was the other way around. He’d been waiting all day, like a dog waiting for its owner, for its treat - your affection, your kisses, and your kiss marks which he kept on until the next morning where he HAD to take them off for school.

- you gave him two kiss marks to make up for the fact that you’ve been such a pain the last week, and you know it because he’s been looking more stressed out and crazier than usual.

- “please stop telling people you’ll be with them if it weren’t for me..” “why?” “Because, well, you’re a valuable asset and you made a contract with me, and you have to fulfill it. Besides, you don’t actually hate me that much.. yes? Right?” He asked, clearly seeking for reassurance.

- You shook your head and put a hand on his cheek, and gave him a kiss. He literally nearly jolted like he got shocked from Jade or something when you did. You pulled back and giggled while walking out of the room.

- great seven, why did he have to feel this way about *you*? A siren? This is surely more trouble than it’s worth, and what would pining after you do for Monstro Lounge?

- … well, for once, he might care about something more than the lounge. And it was you; his very own employed siren.

So trash ik but I can’t use it for an oc so someone else pls make this better for me if u can write PLEASE PLSPLSPLSPLSPLSPSLSLL