#i like trees and i should draw them more often

[wantedplantlife]

today’s repostober is three bookmarks that started out as one bookmark

[cuteniarose]

Each time I think I’ve finally become normal about This Fucking Family my brain comes up with shit like “Hey have you noticed how much Liba looks like young Sunat?” and now I want to throw up

[theradicalace]

in which cuddles pines like a lovesick fool and petunia Doesn’t Get It

[cowsabungus]

Art Hacks for Physical Disabilities!!

I know art can be inaccessible to physically disabled people for a lot of reasons, and I think art should be accessible to everyone, so here’s a couple of the things I found to help for a few different issues you may face that stop you participating!

I have a link to all these items (UK) in my link tree!!

IMAGE DESCRIPTION

Slide one: illustration of a white woman with pink hair, wearing a pink outfit, sitting in a power wheelchair, looking at the viewer with thumbs up. Text Reese “hacks to make art more accessible”

Slide two: illustration of three different kinds, using three different types of pencil grips. One hand uses a circular grip. 100 is a large, rectangular grip. Another uses a grip that is ergonomic and fit into the hand. Main text reads “Paul, grip, strength and dexterity”. Subtext reads “there are loads of different types of pencil, grips or design for different disabilities and conditions. Increasing the width of the pencil can give more texture for a better grip using a pencil with a thicker with also reduces the amounts of pressure needed to hold a pencil you can make your own using items like pool noodles. KT tape an air dry clay. You can also put these groups on things like paint brushes.“

Slide three: illustration of a hand using a tool that looks like a wrist support with a paintbrush connected to it text next to it reads “this talk next a paintbrush to your hand in a way that means you don’t need to hold the paintbrush with your fingers and you will need to move your arm around“ on the bottom right hand corner is in photograph of a guided hand device. Text read “regarded hand as a tool designed to reduce the need for moving your hands and fingers and relies on the movement of your shoulder and upper arms and can be used with different materials like paintbrushes, pencils, pens and styluses.

Slide four: main header reads “when in bed“. Illustration of an iPad pillow with a iPad in it is next to text that reads “iPad pillows, put your tablet at an easier to access level when sitting or lying down“. In the bottom left hand corner is an illustration of a girl sitting in bed in her pyjamas with a pillow behind her and a bed table as she is drawing. On the left hand side is a photograph of a bed table with the text reading “bed tables are used to give you a flat tire up surface while in bed, and are often height adjustable”. In the bottom right hand side is a bedsit, a pillow with the text underneath, reading “ bedsitters of specially shaped pillows that you put behind you in bed to help you set up and give you a soft surface to lean back on”.

Slide five: maisie had a read out “at a desk left”. On the left hand side is a photograph of the document holder with the text “document holders put your paper at an angle to help prevent crane in your neck down”. On the right hand, middle side is an illustration of someone using a armrest and on the bottom left hand side is a photograph of the armrest. Text next to them reads “economic arm rests clip onto your table or desk and give you a surface you lean you’re forearms or elbows on. This can be used to steady your arm and reduce pain and fatigue while sitting at a desk”.

Slide six: maisie reads “foot and mouth painters” . on the right hand side is an photograph of swapping Augustine, an Indian woman with no arms, wearing a sari painting with her left foot. In the bottom left hand corner is an illustration of a woman with green hair painting using her mouth. Text reads “foot and mouth painting is a technique used by artists who do not have, or cannot use their arms so hold the paintbrush in their mouth or using their foot. Swapna Augustine is a foot painter who has painted with her feet and participated in multiple exhibitions of foot and mouth painters. Her art is stunning and I would definitely recommend checking some of help work out.“

Slide seven: main text reeds “art without brushes and pens”. On the left-hand side is a photograph of a spin art device. Text next to read it reads “spin out involves using bottles of ink and squirting them onto a spinning piece of paper to create spiral art. On the middle right hand side is a illustration of a laptop with coding art written on the screen. Text me next to it reads “coding art involves making programs that design and create art pieces digitally. This could be used in conjunction with an eye tracking software.“ On the bottom left hand side is a photograph of a child in a power wheelchair with paint on their wheels painting onto a large piece of paper. Next to this is text reading “wheelchair painting involves putting paint on your wheelchair wheels and moving around and large piece of paper. Sometimes you can connect a roller to create more marks.“

Slide eight: text reads “what do you do to make art accessible for you?”

End of ID.

[ceilidho]

take me home, country road

[ao3]

You have nothing on your person apart from a hastily packed suitcase and the dress you came into town wearing, on the run from trouble back home. Too bad John's missing a bride that matches your description. Or: the 1800s (mistaken) mail order bride au (part 8)

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

-

Now a nocturnal animal emerges into the daylight hours.

A week becomes two and your shoulders untense. It’s not something you notice at first because you’re used to an ever present strain between your shoulder blades and an ache in your jaw from grinding your teeth at night. Then a fortnight goes by without so much as a missive with your name on it floating across John’s desk or a stranger appearing in town after tracking you down, and you wonder if maybe the world really is big enough to hide in. 

It sure feels that way at times. The woods beyond the bounds of John’s property stretch out farther than the eye can see and even walking it feels like you could disappear into another realm. Old spruces shoot up high into the clouds, and deeper into the woods, huge rock formations grow more and more prominent as you near the mountains. John takes you through the woods on horseback, following the rough trails carved into the dirt by a century of wagons and carts using the same path. The footprints of a different time. 

Up in the trees, birds warble and chirp, talking to one another in songs that you’ve never heard before. A woodpecker drills into the side of a tree. Pinecones snap out of the upper branches and drop to the forest floor. 

There is only a single trail and it’s easy to lose. You grow a bit nervous when John takes you off the trail and deeper into the woods, but he does so with the confidence of a man that knows these woods like the back of his hand. You go quiet when he stops Buttercup to let a herd of deer wander by, the stragglers hurrying to catch up with the group, throwing the two of you nervous glances before they disappear into the thicket. 

“Should we be out this far?” you ask in a whisper, reluctant to disturb the silence. Though the woods are full of animals that bleat, chirp, chatter, and hoot, the sound of your own voice feels preternaturally loud and shrill. 

“We won’t get lost, darlin’. I know my way around,” John reassures you, curling an arm around your waist to hold you to him. These days, you hardly worry about tumbling off the horse. Not with him at your back anyway. 

“That wasn’t really my worry,” you mumble, trailing off.

“Then what’re you getting all worked up about?”

“Aren’t there wolves out here? Or bears?”

He snorts, the sound making you jolt. You don’t topple over because he has such a firm hold around your waist. “They don’t usually come this close to town. They’re more scared of you than you are of them.”

“That sounds like something mothers tell their children to stop them crying,” you say flatly. You draw your legs up automatically when John directs Buttercup through a shallow basin, a shortcut back home. It makes you anxious for a moment, but the water barely goes up to her ankles, so you relax when you realize that you’re in no danger of being swept away by the current.

“That doesn’t mean a bear or wolf can’t wander by, but it’s rare.”

“And there it is.”

You can feel the heat of his glower on the back of your head. “We could spend the night out here if you want to see for yourself.”

At that, you shut your mouth. Even if he were to prove his point, you have no interest in camping out in the woods now that you’ve become accustomed to the luxury of a soft bed. Granted that you’re forced to share that same bed, still you’ve never slept half as well as you do these days. You wake up rested after nine hours of blissful shut eye, a sleep so deep that your dreams only come in half-remembered flashes. Often they involve the man you wake up wrapped around, and for that you’re grateful that they remain submerged. 

A new desire has started to burrow its way into the back of your mind in recent days. It starts out as a thought so brief that you hardly notice it before it skitters away. 

And then it lingers. 

You wake up in the middle of the night hot, sweat dripping down the nape of your neck and a fire burning in your loins, a red-hot coil wound around itself, fit to burst. Pulsating. At some point throughout the night, you must have thrown a leg around John’s waist because it rests there now, your hand planted in the middle of his chest and your sex all but rubbing up against his thigh. Under your hand, you can feel his heart pump strong and steady.

You hold very, very still, waiting for him to wake. But John sleeps on, his palm loose where it rests along the curve of your hip, fingers curling into the flesh of your backside. 

You can hardly look at him these days without shaking. You’ve come to fixate on the sway of his hips when he walks and the flecks of silver in his beard. The grooves in his weathered hands. The way your head fits in the palm of his hand when he cradles it to his chest. The fond glimmer in his eyes that shines the brightest when he puts his hat on your head and it slips past your eyes, too big for your head. 

When you tip it up in order to see, the folds around his eyes become more pronounced with the force of his smile.

“There you are, bug,” he says, taking the hat off your head to set it back on his and reeling you in for a kiss. 

Bug, love, honey, darling. The constant flux of endearments makes your head spin. John never calls you by the name on your marriage license. It’s like that name means nothing to him, cast away at the first opportunity and replaced by an endless stream of pet names.  

He hasn’t touched your sex since making you come on the porch swing the week before. He pulls you into a chaste embrace at night, the only evidence of his own desire being the stiff shaft nestled against the small of your back in the early morning hours, which he takes care of on his own in the bathroom downstairs after pressing a kiss to your cheek. You feel robbed of something, though you don’t know quite what. 

You’re tempted to offer your help, but you don’t know exactly what that would entail. Inexperience and fear of rejection hold you back, stay your tongue. In the two weeks you’ve been married, he hasn’t once tried to pin you down and rut between your thighs like you expected and dreaded that very first night. 

Now that that time has passed, you don’t know how to initiate that moment again. 

John promises to teach you how to ride a horse. You can’t see a reason to protest, much to your chagrin. Despite your apprehensions, even you can’t deny that it would be a helpful skill. A train only goes one way after all, confined to a single track. A horse has no such laws to obey.

The thought stays nestled at the back of your mind as the days continue on.

You flounder around in the kitchen on the day that John invites his deputies over for supper. You’ve met the big one—Simon—now a small handful of times, each encounter marked by a silence that sucks the air out of the room when he turns his gaze on you and holds it. Perhaps you’ve simply ascribed too much importance to his person, given that every time you’ve seen him, your life has changed irrevocably. His presence is always followed by revelation it seems. The archangel of vicissitude. A harbinger of uncertain times.

The other two are new. John introduces you to them when you bring out the cutlery and crockery to set the table, and you nearly go cross-eyed when they reach across the table at the same time to offer their hands. You go to meet them halfway, but flinch when John brings his hand down on the table with enough force to make the silverware jump.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he apologizes to you first before turning his glare on the other two. “That ain’t proper, boys. You wait for the lady to offer her hand first—you don’t treat a woman like she’s a mutt you’re teaching to shake.”

“Ah, sorry, hen,” the one on the left says, his voice a thick Scottish brogue like a purr. He’s possibly the handsomest man you’ve ever met, but there’s something dangerous and wild in his eyes. When he smiles, it curls up in a roguish sort of way that makes you falter, like he’s in on a joke that you aren’t. “Dinnae mean to offend. No’ often we get ta meet such a pretty lady.” 

“Sorry—” the one on the right apologizes in a voice far more earnest than his counterpart’s. “And sorry for him. We think he was raised by wolves.”

“What’s yer excuse then?” the Scot sneers, knocking his knee into the other man’s under the table. “Dinnae see ye waitin’ for her fuckin’ hand like a gentleman—apologies, hen.”

“Christ,” John sighs, leaning back in his chair and staring up at the ceiling. 

Simon stays silent at the other end of the table, but the whole table jumps when he aims a kick at the Scott’s leg. He hisses and blurts out a word in a language you’ve never heard before, the word unmistakably vitriolic. He clutches at his shin and shoots a nasty look at Simon, though he doesn’t make a move to retaliate. 

“Name’s Kyle. Kyle Garrick,” the other introduces himself, and you finally reach across the table to offer your hand. His hand is warm against yours when he takes it, dark skin burnished in the candlelight. There’s something inviting about him; something about his eyes, so dark that you almost fall into them. Thick lips curl up into a smile. “And this here is Soap.”

You frown. “Soap?”

The man in question runs a hand down his front, emphasizing the cut of his shirt and the way it clings to the muscle of his chest. “‘Cause of how well I clean up.”

Simon barks out a laugh at that. The sound comes so sudden and sharp that it startles you. “You got it ‘cause your mum had to wash out your mouth with soap.”

It’s the most you’ve ever heard out of him and you can only stare wide-eyed at the lot of them as they dissolve into bickering and squabbling after that. It’s almost a relief to head back into the kitchen to finish cooking. 

Dinner is a similar messy affair, punctuated by the sound of Soap practically gnawing the meat off the bone. He only apologizes when John barks at him for making a mess, more food on the floor around him than on his plate, but his table manners don’t last very long. John doesn’t seem so much embarrassed on their behalf as annoyed, but it’s an annoyance that comes with an aftertaste of warmth. You can tell without asking that they’ve known each other for years. 

There’s room enough in you for food and envy. Back home you had friends. Never close friends, but acquaintances at least. Maids you could recognize by face. Small talk while ascending single-file up the servants’ staircase. Perhaps little more than that. You’d never been particularly close to any of them, but how could you? You worked from morning ‘till night, up and down the stairs, moving in the shadows. Never making too much noise lest your employers take notice of you. 

Like he did.

You shake it off. That’s no matter now. You’re hundreds of miles away and living under a new name. A married woman, to the county sheriff no less. It only sometimes hurts your heart to think of how lonely you’d been. 

When they leave, you stand at the window and watch as they disappear into the black of the night, Simon at the front of the pack, his torchlight leading the way. The sound of horse hooves beating against the dirt recedes the farther they get. 

His hands warm your shoulders. You don’t know how long he’s been there, standing behind you while you stared out the window after the boys. All you know is that his hands are warm, and the kiss he presses to the back of your head makes you arch back into him, unconsciously gravitating closer to him. Needing to be near. 

In bed, you curl your fingers against his chest. On a rough exhale, you wake. You dream still of something terrible that happens somewhere else, in another city, in an old life. His heartbeat lulls you back to sleep.

John takes you to the local seamstress to have you fitted for a pair of pants and suddenly you’re out of excuses. They fit you comfortably, like a second skin, and you find yourself pulling at the legs at your final fitting as if to stretch out the material. The seamstress nearly jabs you with a pin and glares up at you until you stop fidgeting. 

You come to terms with it when he brings you into the stables and makes you fetch the saddle from where it rests on its stand. It’s heavier than you expected. You stumble back over to where John now has Buttercup standing in the middle of the stable, holding her by the lead fixed to her bridle. 

“I don’t know if—” you start, trepidation climbing up your chest until it grips you by the throat. For as many times as you’ve ridden her, you’ve never done it alone. 

John fixes her lead to a post and walks over to you, taking the saddle from your hands and letting it drop to the ground. He cups your face in both hands to tilt your head up. “Hey, honey. We’re not doing much of anything today, alright? Just a walk around the paddock so you get used to sitting on Buttercup on your own. I’m not gonna smack her ass and send you down the trail at full tilt..”

That gets a laugh out of you. “You promise?”

He smiles. “Promise, darlin’.”

And he keeps it. The only thing you do that day is learn how to tack a horse and how to properly mount and dismount her. The latter part of the lesson is devoted to you trying to find your balance while John leads the two of you around the pen at a leisurely pace. He calms you down when he sees you grow too stiff, stopping to coo and rub your thigh until you gradually relax. It’s heartwarming until Buttercup begins to tense up too for a reason unbeknownst to you and you watch in righteous fury as John calms her down the same way.

John gets you a hat to keep the sun from beating down on you, but there’s little he can do about the soreness between your thighs and the stiffness in your legs the next day. All you can do is hiss and moan in pain, hobbling around the house until he forces you down into a chair and hikes up your dress in order to apply an arnica salve to your inner thighs. 

It’s a relief and an affront at the same time. The duality of man. The salve soothes much of the ache, but you twitch nervously around John for the rest of the day, the memory of him pinning you to the chair and forcibly spreading your thighs haunting you. The lingering ache in your core is just the salt in the wound. 

It rains another day. A light drizzle while the sun is still out.

Every day you sit and you think, will it be today? And then the wash basins are emptied out in the field, the horses are taken out to the paddock, you pin the laundry up on the line to dry, and John presses a farewell kiss to your forehead when he leaves you with Kate and nothing happens. Every inch of you waits for more, anticipates more. Throbs when he leaves you wanting, only a chaste kiss and a squeeze around your waist before he’s off. 

You can feel it coming to a head. An itch you can’t shake. 

That day comes with another ache you can’t shake. 

“Please,” you beg, clasping your hands in front of you. “One day of rest. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t do this anymore, John.”

John snaps the lead in his hands. “Let’s get a move on. We’re burning daylight.”

You hang your head low on the march over to the stables, John taking up the rear like he expects you to bolt. An executioner’s walk. The thought of escape has never seemed further away—not even because of its feasibility, but because all you want to do is lie down and rest.

“You can quit your moping,” he says as you tack up Buttercup, a pout on your lips. “Got something special for you today.”

That makes you perk up, regardless of the fact that he doesn’t specify what that is. Anticipation mounts in you when he helps you up onto Buttercup and then climbs up behind you himself. He steers her away from the paddock and towards the trail leading into the woods, the sun at its zenith now, illuminating everything as far as the eye can see.

You’ve ridden this trail before. A week ago, with John at your back as he is now. Through the fields and over the hills until the trees start to number in the tens and then the hundreds, no clear delineation between plain and forest. Simply there and then everywhere.

By now, after hours of sun beating down on the path, the trail is mostly dry, yesterday’s rain long since having sunk into the earth. You think it’d still be a tough hike on foot, but on horseback you cover acres of land at a brisk pace, Buttercup hardly breaking a sweat. You cross paths with a small group traveling by horse and wagon, but John breaks off from the path not too long after that, steering Buttercup deeper into the wilderness, where the only gullies are the ones carved out by years and years of rainfall. 

You only see it when the land begins to dip and you’re forced to hold onto the horn and tighten your thighs around the fenders to keep steady. At the bottom of a hill, a small stream opens up into a larger river, narrowing out at the other end where the land rises again and the water can only trickle over the pebbly riverbed. On the other side, a rocky outcropping cuts the stream off from view.

“Is this where you used to come to bathe?” you ask, recalling an earlier conversation.

John sighs. “Thought I’d take you for a swim as a treat, but if you’d rather just tease me—”

“Well now, let’s not be hasty,” you say, already trying to dismount on your own, eyes glued on the stream glimmering in the sunlight. John chuckles, keeping you pressed to him until he guides Buttercup under a tree for shade and dismounts first, helping you down after him. 

All you want to do is wade in the stream up to your ankles, so that’s what you do. Boots kicked off, Buttercup relaxing in the shade of a tree, John standing by the water’s edge with his hands on his hips and watching you tiptoe over the smooth rocks below. You roll up your pant legs, but eventually you feel the ends grow damp as you venture farther out. At its deepest, you would probably sink up to your waist.

“Don’t you want to swim?” John asks from somewhere behind you.

You splash around a bit, kicking your feet through the water. “Hard to do that with clothes—”

When you turn back around to face him, your eyes dart down momentarily at the sight of skin before you squeak and whirl back around, sending up an arc of water. Twice now you’ve seen him naked. 

“You’ve no clothes on,” you state, bluntly enough that it almost sounds stupid. 

You hear the water splash and ripple when he takes his first step in. “Right—you better think about doing the same if you don’t want to ride home soaking wet.”

“I was perfectly fine just getting my feet wet,” you say indignantly.  

“We came out here to swim, not get your feet wet,” John laughs. You stiffen when his hand comes down on your shoulder, conscious of the fact that your husband is standing right behind you, entirely divested of his clothes. “So best get to steppin’.”

“You can’t make me.”

“Oh, honey,” he says pityingly. “Yes, I can.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as you make your way back to shore, careful not to allow yourself a glimpse of him. Your boots are stacked beneath the shade of another tree, John’s clothes folded neatly beside them. You strip slowly, attentive to the world around you; though unlikely, it’s not impossible that someone might wander by. Your only consolation is that John is still within sight, though you keep your back to him because in recent days, you’ve developed a hunger for him that even now makes your stomach hurt.  

Though the air is warm, you shiver. When you turn around with your arms crossed over your breasts to hide them from sight, you find John wading in the river up to his waist. You’ve seen him like this once before, the hearty body of a man in his prime. Sturdy and strong. The hair on his chest is darker than that on his head, wet too from the dip he must have taken when your back was turned. His hair is slicked back too, a wet hand combing it back. 

“Come on, darlin’,” he calls, beckoning you forward with his hand.

The water is a cold shock when you step in past your ankles. Ice cold tendrils wrap up your legs, sucking the warmth from you. 

You suck in a soft breath when he pulls you into his arms and heaves you up, big hands gripping under your thighs. Your breasts press against the wet skin of his chest, nipples already pebbled. The river is deeper than you assumed; John pulls you deeper in until it pools around your waist and then your chest. Cold enough that you shiver until John dips his head down and the kiss he presses to your lips melts you from the inside out. 

You can’t escape the intimacy of water-slick skin. When John drags you up his chest, your nipples brush over his and the shudder that passes through you is violent, toe-curling. You know that he can feel the heat of your core even underwater. With your legs wound around his waist, every inch of you is plastered to his front. Even your fingers play with the ends of his hair, arms draped over his shoulders. You can’t look away.

“C’mon,” he murmurs, breath hot on your face. “Eyes on me.”

As if you could look anywhere else. 

He reaches down under the water to readjust himself and you gasp when his shaft is suddenly right there, trapped between his belly and your heat. It’s the closest you’ve ever gotten to coitus, his glans nestled between your folds. You’d only have to shift slightly for him to slip right in. The thought makes your breath quicken. 

He doesn’t make a move to take you though, even knowing that he could. How easy it would be. How it’s due to him. Your husband that’s waited a fortnight to take you as his own. John kisses you until each slick pass of his lips grows sloppier, clumsier—his lips barely parting from yours before they’re on you again, rendering you a creature of base needs. 

But his hands don’t shift from your backside where he holds you in place. His fingers dig into the flesh hard enough to bruise, but they don’t move to part your folds to make room for his manhood. You expect him to—practically yearn for it and squeeze him around the neck all the harder when he subverts your expectations, doing no more than letting you grind your heat against the base of his shaft. 

“John—John, please,” you beg, mindless for what. You don’t know what you’re asking for. 

“What d’ya need, darlin’?” he asks into your mouth, stealing your answer with another kiss. 

You fall under the swell of another wave. When the root of his cock glides over your clit, your core clenches on nothing, a sob half-bitten off in your mouth, ripped from your chest. 

It doesn’t matter how close to him you get—he gives you nothing. The heat could very well burn you from the inside out. Cold water caresses your skin as it flows past, but the center of you runs so hot that you hardly notice it. 

When he hikes you higher up against his chest, you clench your fingers in his hair, whining when he takes your nipple into his mouth. Your gasp comes out sharp and hurt when the coarse bristles of his beard rub rough against your breast. He sucks at your breast tender at first, gentle, eyes half-lidded like his mind has gone somewhere else, but there’s a glint in his eye that grows wild and dark, that turns him rough. You don’t know what to do except shake and let him use you how he wants. 

Desperation nips at your heels, urging you up the length of him. If you had more nerve, you’d reach down and grasp him under the water, notch the head of his member against your sex and sink right down on him. You need him like you've never needed anything before. Every part of you aflame, searing hot under the sun at its highest point; right overhead, right on top of you. 

His teeth sink delicately into your areola, tongue lapping over your nipple to soothe the hurt, and suddenly, you break.

“Please—” you gasp, wrenching his mouth away from your breast and whimpering when he resists at first, glaring up at you like he might bite. “Please, John—I can’t take it. I need you.”

His eyes darken, the pupil swallowing everything up. “Need me where, wife? Here?”

A hand dips between your thighs, pointer finger gliding over your sex, plump with blood. So tender that your mouth hangs open on a whine when he touches you. 

“Y-yes,” you whimper, gaze swimming. 

John’s breath comes out in a harsh, ragged pant. Completely undone in a way you’ve never seen before. “Get out, darlin’. I’m taking you home. Gonna give you what you need.”

[lxkeee]

Hi, could I request a Lucifer morningstar x darkness demon overlord reader? She lurks in the shadows like a boogeyman, she acts like morticia adams from the adams family, how would he meet or act around the gothic queen👁👁✨

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

Part two

Lucifer was just wandering around hell, unknowingly entering a territory of an overlord.

He doesn't know okay? It's just a forest of dead wilted trees with ominous aura.

His first instinct is to investigate.

This is his first time coming here, he only discovered this area after flying by to return to the palace.

Lucifer was walking around the dense forest, with his guard up.

The forest was quiet. A little too quiet.

He isn't afraid, unfortunately. He knows he can kill any demon who would try to mess with him.

Crack. A twig snapped

His head whipped to the direction of the noise, “Who goes there? Show yourself!” he threatens, wings in full display.

Shadows moving around him and finally stopping in front of him, morphing into a figure.

Lucifer expected a lot of things, but this.

A very tall and gorgeous woman, large deer antlers on her head. Sultry eyes and a smirk on her face.

Oh fuck, she's beautiful. Dangerous. He can sense the power she has.

“Good evening your highness, I didn't expect to see you here wandering around my home.” the woman says with a chuckle, making the man become a little flustered.

“Your home...?” he asked hesitantly and the woman nodded.

“Yes, this is my home or rather my territory. My home is somewhere around here. I just sensed a presence around these grounds and decided to check. I didn't expect to see the king of hell to be here.”

“M-my apologies, my lady. I simply didn't know.” he stammers a bit. Ah, calm yourself Lucifer. You're more powerful so you shouldn't be intimidated, he says to himself internally.

“It is alright, if you don't mind. Do you want to join me for a cup of tea? I just so happen to have finished brewing some.”

Lucifer is cautious around sinners, especially her. He doesn't know why his heart is palpitating this much. The best reason he got is fear loud incorrect buzzer noise

“I don't want to intrud—”

“Nonsense! You're not intruding.”

“But—”

“Do not fret, I am not going to hurt you. I should be the scared one as you are much more powerful than me. I am sure you can obliterate my existence with a flick of your finger.” the woman laughs softly, a kind of laugh that reminds him of the books he's read. The kind of laugh that draws you in.

“How about this, how about we get acquainted with each other? So that you'll be more comfortable?”

Lucifer's eyes narrowed, “Why are you so insistent?”

“Well, I just love making friends and you my dear seem to be an interesting character that I don't mind befriending.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes but eventually nodded, “Fine, My name is Lucifer Morningstar.”

“Wonderful, then... It's a pleasure to meet you Mr. Lucifer, my name is [y/n]” She says before gently holding his hand and placing a small kiss on his knuckles.

With a smirk on her face as her eyes looked at him as she did so.

Lucifer's cheeks reddened, quickly snatching his hand away from the demoness.

“So, about that tea?”

Lucifer is beginning to see a pattern.

A type even.

It's been a few months since he's met the deer demoness.

Surprisingly he managed to get along with her, despite her... Rather questionable actions.

He often visits her mansion at the middle of the forest where he met her or the other way around.

She often surprises him by popping out of the shadows with her presence concealed.

She's playful, mysterious, dangerous, beautiful.

And tall.

He likes his women tall okay?

And he likes them a little deranged.

Anyways.

She keeps teasing him.

Just like the other day, he came to visit at the wrong time and she forced him to help her get dressed.

It was inappropriate! She only asked him to zip the zipper of her dress.

Poor guy was blushing.

She didn't make fun of his obsession with rubber ducks.

She even made ducks out of shadows and made it swim around his room and of course, he made one too with his powers.

The shadows and gold dust ducks swimming around the room and in the air.

It was... Cute...

Lucifer has gotten to know the woman better too, he has gotten the chance to see many sides of her.

Lucifer isn't stupid, he can tell he's developing feelings for her.

He's afraid, he's afraid of getting hurt again or hurting her.

He has issues he needed to fix first.

Though, he is slightly a flustered mess around the woman.

Can you blame him? She calls him endearing nicknames! She calls him sweetheart and it just makes his heart flutter.

He is cautious around her not because he's afraid of her but because he fears his feelings for her would accidentally be known.

And she just appears out of nowhere!

It took awhile for him to sort his emotions and he thinks he is finally ready to confess.

But first, Lucifer needs to find hints if she feels the same way.

“Thanks for the coffee, [y/n]. It tastes amazing as always.” Lucifer says, admiring the duck shaped cream that is floating on his coffee.

“It is a pleasure, sweetheart. Drink to your heart's content. I know you've been stressed lately.” She says with a gentle voice.

“I have a question.” he started, already planning a discreet way to ask her.

“Hmm? Go ahead.”

“What if let's say... You have a close friend and you've only known him for a couple of months but they fell in love with you and now they're planning to confess to you? Would you date him?”

Don't mind him guys, he's trying his best.

[y/n] tilts her head slightly, confused before giggling.

She's not stupid but she kinda wants to tease him.

“Depending on who this friend is.”

“Just answer.” he deadpans.

“Yes, would you confess though?” she asked as she leans forward to reach him across the table, holding his chin. Lips just a few inches away from each other.

Lucifer.exe has stopped working.

“Y-yes...” he stammers, beginning to feel shy as his cheeks heat up.

“Do you want a kiss?” she asked teasingly.

“Please...?”

“Good boy.” she says before finally pressing her lips against his.

It was the most addicting kiss he ever experienced.

“I like you.”

“I like me too.”

“[y/n]!”

“I am just joking, I like you too.”

[gaywarcriminals]

Remember that time Xiao Jiu wanted to beat a kid with a brick?

The scene where Shen Jiu threatens Shi Wu is possibly my favorite scene in the whole novel because it tells us so much about qijiu's dynamic, both past and future, and namely, that they're both little freaks (affectionate) who show love in weird ways. I think it particularly exemplifies several of Yue Qingyuan's traits that often go overlooked!

I am just going in order. All excerpts are from the Seven Seas official translation, Volume 4, Chapter 24: Yue Qingyuan and Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Jiu fights for resources

“Shen Jiu, don’t think you can just throw your weight around. You don’t own this street. What gives you the right to tell us we can’t stay?!” This main street was wide and even, and many people came and went upon it. If one wanted to beg, it was the best and prime location. Some of the passersby watched this group of children fight, but even more hurried on their way. And this new brat had the gall to challenge him. Shen Jiu looked down and around, preparing to find a brick with which to teach him a lesson, when a tall youth happened to walk over. He saw Shen Jiu rolling up his sleeves, head lowered, and hastily went to stop him. “Xiao-Jiu, let’s go somewhere else.” [...] With Yue Qi standing in front of him, Shiwu grew bold. He leaned forward and yelled, “Every time we go to a new place,you always hog the best spot!

From this we know that Shen Jiu, without fail, tries to claim or fight for the best begging spots in every city. This isn't fully textually supported, but add to that the later section that mentions how Shen Jiu was far better at begging than Yue Qi and I think that, on some level, SJ feels responsible for both his and Yue Qi's wellbeing. Chasing off the other children is not just a selfish act, but also a protective one.

According to the orders given to them, Yue Qi should have wailed and wept, but no matter what, he never could manage to cry. Therefore, this task had instead fallen to Shen Jiu, even though he was faking an illness that supposedly left him too feeble to weep. But he was small and his face wasn’t too unsightly to look at, so whenever he sobbed and bawled, the passersby found him pitiful and generously opened their wallets. It would have been no exaggeration to call him a money tree.

Xiao Jiu fancies himself the breadwinner lol.

How Yue Qi reacts to accusations against Shen Jiu

That first youth took the opportunity to tattle. “Qi-ge, he’s bullying me.” “That wasn’t bullying, Shiwu,” said Yue Qi. “Xiao-Jiu was just joking around.” “Who’s joking?” said Shen Jiu. “I’m telling him to get lost. This is my territory. I’ll kill anyone who tries to steal it.”

I've anyways found this passage so telling of their eventual adult relationship! First of all, Yue Qi implicitly takes Shen Jiu's side, and immediately defends him. This seems to be taken for granted by all characters, so we can assume this is their standard dyanmic. Yue Qi, notably, does not deny that Shen Jiu was threatening Shiwu. In this situation where SJ is actively gearing up for a fight, it would be a very poor defense, and that's probably true of most messes Xiao Jiu got himself into! 

Most of Yue Qi's actions in the scene are attempts to de-escalate. This is just my theory, but I think in Yue Qi's mind, who's at fault is much less important than making sure no one gets in trouble with a higher authority. Even if he knows SJ could win the fight, it would only gain SJ more animosity, and possibly the attention of someone who would be a real danger.

I think it's evident how Yue Qi's ethos of keeping their heads down and not causing trouble or drawing too much attention would feed into how he handled Shen Qingqiu's less commendable behavior as an adult and complaints against Shen Qingqiu.

In the brothel scene later in the extras, we can see that he's conscious of their image. 

Yue Qingyuan yanked Shen Qingqiu off the bed. He was in a rare fit of anger. “Why are you like this?” “Why am I like what?” asked Shen Qingqiu. “Two of Cang Qiong Mountain’s head disciples getting into a huge brawl inside a brothel—does that sound good to you?”

Imo, now entrenched in the politics of the cultivation world, YQY sees protecting SQQ's image/reputation as an important part of protecting SQQ. Yue Qi spent his childhood managing Xiao Jiu, and as an adult, he's not able to so easily break the habit, not matter how SQQ scorns him

Shen Jiu does not get upset by attacks on his character, only from Shiwu calling Yue Qi "Qi-ge"

With Yue Qi standing in front of him, Shiwu grew bold. He leaned forward and yelled, “Every time we go to a new place,you always hog the best spot! Everyone’s been sick of you for ages! You think you’re all that? That everyone’s afraid of you?” “Shiwu,” Yue Qi scolded. Amidst the struggle, Shen Jiu kicked Yue Qi in the shin. “If you want a fight, I’ll give you one. Only losers would blame their spot for their incompetence. You bastard—who’s your Qi-ge? I dare you to say that again!”

Now granted these aren't the most cutting insults, but it's SO interesting to me that Shen Jiu doesn't react to the insults directly. To me, this is a little bit of evidence that, even at this age, Shen Jiu had already decided he was a bad guy, and stopped caring about what others thought of him. The glaring exception to that was, ofc, Yue Qi. I think part of the reason that SJ reactions to the "Qi-ge" specifically, is that Shiwu just said that no one likes Shen Jiu, and then tried to align himself with Yue Qi. I think to SJ, he sees a real threat in the idea of someone else stealing Yue Qi, the one person who likes SJ. SJ is so possessive of Yue Qi not just because he's Qi-ge, but also because, without him, Shen Jiu would have nothing and no one.

Yue Qi tries to deescalate by coaxing/appeasing Shen Jiu

“You’re the bastard! I bet you’ll get sold off soon and end up a pimp!” Yue Qi didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry. “Where did you learn that kind of nonsense language?!” Then he dragged Shen Jiu off to the side of the road while coaxing him. “All right, you’re the most competent one here. Even if you didn’t pick and choose your spot, you’d be the best. So let’s change streets.” Shen Jiu stepped on his foot. “Get off me! Like I’m scared! Come on, fight me! Wanna gang up on me? Go ahead!” Of course Yue Qi knew he wasn’t scared. If he really let Shen Jiu brawl with the other kids, he would fight dirty. He’d gouge at their eyes and kick them in the belly or crotch or shin. He was terribly vicious, and the other party would be the one to end up suffering and bawling in terror. Yue Qi forced down a smile. “Are you done stepping on my foot yet? If you are, stop it. Qi-ge will take you somewhere fun.” “What shitty ‘fun’?” Shen Jiu asked savagely. “The most fun I’ll have is if they’re all dead.” Yue Qi looked at him helplessly and shook his head.

Yue Qi only barely scolds Shen Jiu, even when Shen Jiu in the wrong (tried to steal Shiwu's spot and then almost beat up Shiwu). Instead, his reaction is to distract, coax, bribe, and praise him until SJ looses interest in whatever trouble he was going to cause. Yue Qi is so biased, and he spoils him 😂. Even when Yue Qi has so little he can give, he managed to spoil Shen Jiu by giving him so much favor, attention, and affection. 

I think this is something that comes naturally to Yue Qi to the point that he can't help himself from doing the same thing as an adult, even when SJ scorns him. It's just the correct response to seeing a Xiao Jiu! He's the "why do we have hands" meme fr 

Yue Qi smiles imagining Shen Jiu beating up the other kids

Of course Yue Qi knew he wasn’t scared. If he really let Shen Jiu brawl with the other kids, he would fight dirty. He’d gouge at their eyes and kick them in the belly or crotch or shin. He was terribly vicious, and the other party would be the one to end up suffering and bawling in terror. Yue Qi forced down a smile. “Are you done stepping on my foot yet? If you are, stop it. Qi-ge will take you somewhere fun.”

I don't have much to say about this, I just want to remind everyone Yue Qi finds SJ's violent, feral tendencies adorable. This man has no desire to train his cat, and he will insist it's friendly even as it gnaws on his arm.

In Conclusion?

This single scene shows us the trajectory of qijiu's relationship going forward, the strengths of their relationships that became pitfalls. It allows to imagine what they could have become if not torn apart by a world set to doom them.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother's friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

The curtains stir in the summer breeze, the smell of pollen wafting in and tickling your nose. You scrunch your face, resisting as sneeze and flip the page of the book, your eyes racing across the letters, devouring them. After another year of academia, you’re all too eager to spend your summer devouring your ‘to read’ list. 

The flick of pages marks the passage of time. You don’t sense how the sky sifts from a beaming yellow to a gentle blue. Not until the knock comes at the door and draws you from the world built of prose. You blink and lift your head, mark your page and leave it on your pillow. You push yourself across the low bed and yawn. Only as you don’t have words to read do you feel the fatigue in your eyes. 

“Peanut,” your mother calls you by the childhood nickname you can’t seem to shake, “gonna help with dinner?” 

You open the door to her and step out, “yeah, should do something.” 

“You should,” she chides playfully. “I already got the roast beef in, just need you to do sides.” 

“Great,” you shuffle down the hall behind her and rub your eyes. You don’t know if it’s allergies or reading that has you so dried out. 

Downstairs, you go into the kitchen and the aroma of the roast has your mouth watering already. In your delve into the land of fantasy, you may have forgotten to feed yourself. It’s not an uncommon occurrence; during the school year, you often studied until your head pounded and your stomach roared. The human body tends only to get in the way of the mind. 

You work at peeling potatoes as your mom takes out a medley of vegetables to put in a roasting pan. She seasons as you chop, the low murmur of her outdated music filling the hazy summer air. You can hear the children next door running around and the bristle of trees swaying in the wind. 

“Oh, make sure to throw in a few extra, pea,” she says as you go to curl over the top of the bag, “your brother’s bringing his friend.” 

“Friend? Johnny?” You wonder. 

“That man from his work, Syverson,” she corrects, “with the beard.” 

“Uh yeah, I remember.” 

You’ve met Syverson, or Sy as he prefers. Your brother, Isaac, started his apprenticeship last summer with the man down at the metal shop. There are vague instances in your mind when you recall the large bearded man sitting at the table across from you. He’s older than your brother, you too. Probably closer to your parent’s age. He doesn’t say much either but he’s polite. You think. 

You shrug and pull out some more potatoes to add to peel and cut. You do so quietly, your mind wandering back to your book even as the real world threatens to wipe it away. You’re so swept up in the fraught quest to reclaim a forgotten world that you can hardly focus on the blade. 

You blink as the knife hits the board, too close to your thumb. Pay attention. Often your mom comments that you look far away and just as often you are. Existing in this world can be so boring. Potatoes and roast beef. 

You rinse off the spuds and put them on to boil. You’ll mash them like you always do and add your mother’s ‘secret’ ingredient; herb and cheese sour cream. You’re pretty sure every mother on the block claims that as their little revolution. 

As the water starts to steam, you hear a car pull up and a louder engine behind it. Your mom checks the beef, letting out a gust of savoury air. You are starving. 

As you toss the peels in the bin, the front door opens. Isaac’s voice carries through the house as he chatters on about sparks and some work thing. Your mom’s head pops up as she waits eager for his appearance. 

He peeks into the kitchen as a pair of footsteps follow behind him. You mom greets him with a kiss, “hello, bubby, how was your day?” 

“Mom,” he scowls and wipes his cheek, “it was fine. Burnt myself pretty good.” 

He shows a bandage on his forearm and shrugs. Your mother gasp, “oh, honey!” 

“Told him to put his gauntlets on,” Syverson stands just beyond the doorway, his shadow looming like an evil orc in a cavern, waiting to pounce. You shake off the comparison as he comes into the light of the kitchen, a case of beer in hand. “Brought something for dinner,” he puts down the six-pack and shifts as you notice the red cap and label poking out from under his arm. He catches the bottle before it can slip and presents it to your mother, “and for the ladies.” 

“Oh, Syverson, you’re always so sweet.” 

“Mm, least I can do, y’all having me, feeding me,” he reaches to rub his neck. “Mind if I use the bathroom? Gotta wash my hands.” 

“Course, dear, you know where it is,” she preens. 

He leans on his back foot and his eyes glint in your direction. Despite his gruff exterior, his shaved head and thick beard, and his work-stained tee shirt, his eyes seem to sparkle, “evening,” he nods in your direction, as if he’s only just noticed you. 

“Hi,” you murmur and turn back to wash the starch from the cutting board. 

Having company is always awkward. You’re the only member of your family who isn’t very social. You have your classmates and a few friends you’ll hang out with on occasion but your parents and your brother always seem to have someone with them. If it isn’t one of your mom’s HOA accomplices, it’s one of your dad’s neighbourhood buddies arguing over the barbecue. 

You continue to tidy up as you wait for the food to be ready. You take out some plates and cutlery, wanting to distract yourself by setting the table. You stack the plates and the utensil slides around on top as you carry them into the hallway. You have to stop short as you nearly collide with Sy.  

“Sorry,” he apologises and backs up, “need help?” 

He points to your armful and you smile and shake your head, “all good.” 

“Don’t mind,” he says as he puts his large hands around the stack of plates. They’re pretty thick and heavy on their own but he takes them from you easily. 

“Um, right, then I’ll get... cups.” 

You turn back and flit into the kitchen. Your mom hums as she strains the potatoes. She doesn’t notice you counting glasses from the cupboard and balancing them all in your arms. You go down the hall, this time without obstacle, and into the dining room. You angle awkwardly to put down all the glasses at once.  

Sy lays out the plates and cutlery one at a time, certain to have each perfectly centered and straight. He focuses on the task intently. The sight of his earnest effort contrasted by his burly figure is almost silly. You plunk down the glasses at the corner of each plate, staying on the other side of the table from him. 

“Your back from school,” he says as he finishes, stepping back to cross his arms, making himself even larger. Most people are big compared to you. 

“Mhmm,” you nod with a rigid tight-lipped grin. 

“You graduate?” He asks. 

You try not to show your surprise. You’re not sure you’ve ever had a conversation with him. It’s just nods and grunts sent in your direction. Just acknowledgement. Just courtesy. 

“One more year,” you say, “erm, I’ll go help mom.” 

“Right,” he drops his arms and grips the back of the chair in front of him, “don’t let me keep ya.” 

You inch backwards and spin around, trying not to run away. It isn’t him. It’s you. It’s easier to read dialogue on a page and pretend it’s coming from your lips than it is to hold a conversation in real life. You would rather go back and finish your chapter then sit at the table and eat with your family, especially now that you’ve made it awkward. 

[iliketangerines]

Hey, Tangerine! Love your x Reader fanfics! They're sooooo addictive! I'm wondering if you could write afab!reader x Fujin? I don't think you've written him yet!

Here's my request: Already in a relationship together + they're in a meadow together to forget about their troubles + reader sings him a song w/a beautiful voice, which Fujin loves + he's soft & fluffy & caring w/them, even during sex.

like an angel

a/n: i'm so glad you like my fics!! i've written them a few times, but you definitely sent this in when i had none lol

pairing: fujin x afab!reader

warnings: nsfw (MDNI), pussy eating, pussy drunk

you sit behind Fujin, his head dipped low as he dozes off, and your fingers gently comb through his hair and separate the strands to style the soft strands

the both of you were in a meadow, a slight breeze blowing through the landscape, and beautiful mountains surrounding you on every side

the trees whispered with the soft wind, and in the distance you could hear birds chirping every so often as you hummed along with their song

the two of you lay in the middle of the meadow, surrounded by flowers and sunshine, and the two of you had basked in the warmth of the sun while eating lunch

now, your fingers move through his hair slowly, making sure each strand was the extract width and length and that no strays ever slipped out of your fingertips

you try and remain gentle, stopping your humming every so often to focus on styling his hair and adding in various flowers before continuing again

tapping on his back, you tell him you’re done, and you hold up a mirror for him to see

he smiles at the sight and looks to you, thanking you for fixing his hair, and he leans toward you to give you a soft kiss

a small laugh escapes you as he kisses you, but you grab onto his shoulders nonetheless as his hands encircle your waist, bringing you even closer to him

he hums into your mouth, slightly pulling back and resting his forehead against yours, and you breathe in his scent, like the mountains and the ocean spray

Fujin mumbles that he should properly thank you for braiding his hair, giving you a small coy smile as his hands squeeze at your waist

you let out a breathy laugh and says that he doesn’t have to, that you wanted to do his hair, but he places a gentle hand onto your chest and tells you that he wants to thank you as well

his hands play with the hem of your shirt, fingers skimming the skin of your stomach, and he slowly draws your shirt up, kissing every inch of your skin that it reveals

you sigh, a slight smile playing on your lips, and you prop yourself up on your elbows to watch him, and he looks at you with a half-lidded expression as he mouths at your skin as if it tasted of the freshest fruits

he closes his eyes to take in every sense of you, your softness, your gentle breaths, your sweet taste, and he only opens his eyes to watch your face as he pushes your shirt above your chest and wraps a lip around your nipple

you look at him with a droopy expression, lips slightly parted as you stare down at him, and he closes his eyes once more to ravage  your chest

Fujin swears that you make the prettiest noises, especially as his tongue flicks over the sensitive nipple while his other hand rolls and lightly pinches the other between his fingers

you gasp and whimper at his touch, always so sensitive and reactive for him, and he thinks that he could worship you forever like this

tasting your skin with his tongue, hearing your voice echo in the air, feeling your pleasure roll through your body, it’s an addicting combination, a drug he doesn’t think he could ever get rid of

nor does he want to either

he hums and opens his eyes just enough to remove your nipples from his mouth and see the consequences of his actions, your nipple puffy and swollen

licking his lips, he switches over to the other nipple to give it the same attention, and his hands simply adjust to make sure the other never went without attention

you whine and breathe out his name, bucking your hips upwards to try and get him to move, but Fujin doesn’t budge, simply lapping at your skin

he would move on soon enough, but he wants to enjoy every part of you first

his mouth is relentless, lapping and licking at your nipple before moving onto to kissing every inch of your skin, sucking light hickies into the expanse of it

never once does he stop moaning, his hips grinding involuntarily into the blankets as he tastes you, and he groans and finally moves downward, kissing down the length of your stomach

kissing the slight pudge, he tugs at your bottoms, standing up on his knees to properly take them off of you and watch the reveal of your thighs

as soon as he’s pulled them off of your feet, he hooks your legs over his shoulders, kissing at the inside of your thighs and slightly sinking his teeth into the soft flush

he’s nearly dizzy with how your plush thighs surround his head, and he kisses and licks at every inch, desperate to have all of you

his fingers tighten their hold on you, just enough that the fat of your thighs spill between them as he places the flat of his tongue against your pussy, licking up the length of it

the tip of his tongue presses into your needy clit, and it makes your breath hitch as you finally lay yourself back down onto blanket, arms too shaky to hold yourself up anymore

you resist letting your fingers hold onto his styled hair, and you grip onto the blanket to try keep your grip on reality as he practically makes out with your pussy

he’s loud, uncaring of the noises he makes, and it barely matters with how his hearing is muffled, your thighs squeezing his head to try and bring him in closer

his tongue ravages you, flicking your clit back and forth before lapping at it firmly, and his arms only manage to drag you even closer as he dips his head low so that he can fuck you on his tongue

he grinds his nose into your clit, his tongue fucking into your, and Fujin can’t help but moan at your taste, sending vibrations rumbling through you

you whine and say that you’re close, that you’re going to cum soon, and it only spurs the god further onto dig his tongue deeper into your and grind against your clit much harsher

digging his fingers into the plush of your thighs, he leaves finger-tipped bruises and moans into your pussy, desperate to have a taste of your nectar

your back arches off the floor, and your hands fly up to his hair, tugging at the strands and messing up the flowers and carefully braided locks as you cum

however, Fujin doesn’t care, not when this was the best possible outcome, you writhing underneath him and whining his name like a prayer

he could never get enough of you, and he laps at your pussy, needy to get every single drop he could out of you

finally, he lifts his head up and blinks at you, asking if you were okay, and you frown, saying that you had messed up his hair

Fujin laughs and says that you can fix it later, but for now he wants to taste you again

with that, he dives back in, and you moan to the high heavens your prayers of his name

[navybrat817]

The Animal Within

Pairing: Shifter!Bucky Barnes x Shifter!Female Reader Summary: Bucky can't help but follow you when you go through his territory. Word Count: Over 2.2k Warnings: Shifters, flirting, background character death, mention of blood, slight possessive behavior, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?). A/N: Meet Wolfie and Little Red! My fourth and final Connect 4 (C4007 - Square 4) / Into an Alternate Juneiverse AND Week 2 of Hot Bucky Summer for @buckybarnesevents! Theme - What should I call you? ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby (thank you!), but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by @firefly-graphics and thanks to @targaryenvampireslayer and @buckets-and-trees for the encouragement! ❤️Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

When Bucky was a child, the townspeople warned him not to venture too far into the woods. Dangerous creatures lurked in the shadows and many who strayed far from the beaten path never came back. What they didn't know was that he often did that very thing since he could walk. The townspeople had no reason to fear for him. While they were right that the forest held many dangers, it was also a place of kinship and wonder. He found solace in the trees.

Because even predators had soft sides.

Which was one of the reasons he started tracking you.

Who are you?

Bucky knew every creature in his territory, but hadn’t seen you before. You were stunning and quick as you wove in and out of the trees, a blur of red amongst the green and brown background. You stopped at one point to smell some flowers, as if you didn’t have a care in the world. Something about your scent excited him like nothing else, tempting him to chase you down. He refrained from doing so and maintained a safe distance as he followed, not wanting to spook you. He should’ve alerted Steve and the others the deeper you went into the woods, but he wanted to keep you to himself for now.

As if you were his.

Steve would likely ask him later why he decided to follow you in the first place. The easy answer was that this wasn't your home and he wanted to know why you decided to go through this part of the forest. It also concerned him a bit that you were by yourself. While he had his found family, he wondered why wasn’t someone by your side? Was it by choice?

Why are you all alone out here, little red?

The air was cool in this part of the forest, even with the sun shining through the branches, but it didn't seem to bother you as you stopped to play with a rock. Bucky crouched between two trees, careful not to draw attention to himself as he curiously watched. You were smaller than him and appeared far too sweet for your own good. It was strange how he felt the need to protect you and snarl that you needed to stay alert. You were all alone and anyone could come along and just eat you up.

A snap of a twig drew his attention, lowering his body more when another scent drifted through the air. You, on the other hand, were perfectly content in your own little world. Either you didn't sense the foreboding atmosphere shift or you didn't care.

Why aren't you paying attention?!

Bucky bit back a growl when he spotted the large man coming from the opposite direction, almost blending in with the background as he watched you. The fur on the back of his neck stood up straight when he saw the arrow aimed in your direction. The man had every intention of killing you. It was a cruel way to die, especially when all you were doing was playing in the woods.

Now I have to save you.

As the hunter released his arrow, you surprised both of them by suddenly leaping toward the nearest tree and narrowly avoided getting hurt. You didn’t look down as you climbed up the bark and walked across one of the large branches with more agility than he expected, your eyes on the hunter as he reached for another arrow. You must have sensed him if you were able to dodge his weapon like that. If Bucky didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought you were laughing or playing a game.

No time to play around, little red. You can't stay up there all day.

You must have known that, too, since you leapt from the high height and onto the man below.

With a small scream, you tackled the hunter to the ground. He tried to toss you away, but he didn't stand a chance when you bit into his neck. Bucky didn't expect such ruthlessness from you, but he understood why you attacked since the hunter intended to kill you. And while he didn't normally hunt without giving chase, the tear of flesh and tissue from the man's throat urged the beast inside him to join you. He had to help as you were smaller and could still get hurt.

Pack mentality. Nothing more, right?

Bucky jumped through the trees and charged at the man lying in the dirt. He was still conscious enough to throw an arm up to try and defend himself, but it only led to the wolf chomping down and crunching the bone. He relented after a moment, only to join you in biting his neck. Blood hit his white fur and dripped onto the soil, staining the earth and adding the hunter to the long list of fallen souls in the shadows.

Should've stuck to the beaten path.

You snapped your head up at the sound of his snarl, licking some of the blood from around your mouth as you assessed him. You seemingly forgot about the lifeless hunter as you slowly backed away. Bucky didn't approach you and he wasn't your enemy, but refused to lower his head in submission as you hunched your back. He was almost impressed at the fearless flash in your eyes.

You won't win a fight against me.

Your body collided with his a second later, a firm reminder of your speed even though he was stronger. You didn't claw or bite as the two of you rolled away from the body, but you screamed again. Maybe you wanted to warn him that you weren't a creature to mess with. Or maybe you knew he followed you and wanted to retaliate.

It was for your own good.

Bucky got on top of you as you came to a stop. With a small growl and raise of his lips, he went for your throat. He would've bitten through your neck, but he didn't since his intention wasn't to kill you. He wouldn't let you do any damage to him either. The clench of his jaw was a warning of what he could do if you didn't submit and the hold was enough to make you go lax beneath him with a small sound. And it was the pounding of your heart against his fur that made him loosen his hold.

It's okay, little red.

He let go completely at the sound of snapping and shifting bones beneath him. He knew those noises all too well. The shrill shriek you let out faded to a groan as your body stretched, the red fur disappearing into your skin. Your eyes were still glowing as you completed the transformation from a fox to a human.

A beautiful, naked human.

Though the townspeople feared the woods and knew monsters existed, not everyone believed the myth that shifters roamed the land. But here you were, living proof just like him. Maybe that was why your scent called to him, a mixture of something wild and grounding. It was only right that he changed back into his human form, too. It didn't mean he'd give you the satisfaction of moving away while he shifted back, his bones molding and skin stretching with a grunt. His hair fell in his blue eyes as he exhaled, his breathing harsh as he realized just how close your bodies were.

And that he could smell your arousal.

"You know I didn't need you to save me, right, wolfie?" you smiled, bringing a hand to his cheek. He bristled, but not because it didn't feel nice. It was because you touched him without hesitation. "I had it under control."

Wolfie?

"I think you did need my help," he couldn't help but say. While you were a predator, you weren't as dangerous as him. Your touch was too soft. "You should be thanking me."

"Thank you for not minding your own business."

"It is my business when you're in my territory," he reminded you, placing his hands on each side of your head as he stared down at you. The intimidating look didn't make you cower. It made you smile.

Why aren't you afraid of me?

"I guess so," you said, stretching a little and drawing his attention to your neck. It would look beautiful with his mark on it.

No. I'm not thinking about claiming this beautiful, sly stranger.

"You guess so?"

"Okay, it is your business," you huffed softly. "That man killed a lot of defenseless creatures in the west end of the forest, so I lured him here. And if he didn't take me as bait, I figured a wolf would either scare him off or kill him."

Cunning and smart.

"So you did need my help," he smirked.

"I attacked him just fine without you."

True.

"But if you hadn't, you would've had to rely on me."

"Yes, I would have. Because you're so biiiiig and so strooooong and I'm sooooo helpless," you teased, raising an eyebrow when you purposely lifted your hips to touch his. "Well, you really are big."

His eyes slipped shut, but it didn't stop the blood from flowing south. You were so warm and soft. If he spread your legs a bit more and sheathed himself, he wondered just how tight and hot you'd feel around him. Would you cry out for him or whimper?

"You're also smelly and hairy like a dog," you added.

With a growl, his eyes flew open. Instead of showing fear, you laughed. He was so thrown off by the sound that you were able to use your strength to roll him on his back. The sight of you above him, your breasts lightly bouncing from another laugh, was one he'd later dream about.

"You know the thing about foxes? People always underestimate us," you said with a smile. "Because we're smaller than wolves and so cute. We look almost innocent."

Bucky laughed this time, the sound deep as he brought his hands to your hips to steady you. No other reason. "I know damned well you’re not innocent at all."

He held his breath as you leaned down, your nipples brushing against his chest. "And how would you know that?" you whispered, your lips so close he could almost kiss you.

The scent of blood and death was only a few feet away, but the tempting smell of your pussy had his mouth watering. He had to keep a level head though. He didn't know you. "No one innocent would rip a throat out like that."

He wondered just how many men you lured to their deaths with your act.

The hunter becomes the hunted.

The playfulness faded from your eyes as you sat up. Had he touched on a sore topic? "Sometimes we have to do those things in order to survive," you said, lifting your weight off of him. "Thank you so much for 'saving' me."

"Wait," he urged as he sat up, not wanting you to go away so quickly. That should've bothered him that he wanted you close by. Everything about his pull to you should have. "That's not a proper thank you."

"And what is?" you asked curiously, your eyes moving along his body as he stood up. He wasn't ashamed of his nakedness. If anything, he liked that you saw some of his scars.

"Helping me get rid of this body," he answered, nodding to the hunter. He'd already have to explain to Steve that he assisted in killing him, but he wasn't at all sorry. "And I need to make sure you get back to the border safely."

You nodded after a moment. "Not the kind of 'thank you' I thought you'd want, but I'll help," you said, briefly looking up at the sky and avoiding his gaze. "Don't worry about taking me back. I can manage just fine getting out of here. I'm used to going it alone."

I don't like that.

"I'd feel better if I went with you," he said.

"Fine," you agreed, gesturing to yourself when a breeze picked up, goosebumps rising on your skin. "Just wish I had my red cape to cover up. Unless you don't mind the view."

He licked his lips when you did a spin, giving him a view of every delicious curve of your body. "I don't mind," he admitted.

Hell, he was still half hard just from having you against him on the ground.

"I like you, wolfie," you smiled.

"That's not my name," he said, even if the little nickname made him want to smile.

"What should I call you?" you asked, brushing a bit of dirt off his right arm.

"Bucky," he replied, gently taking your arm before you could walk away. "What should I call you?"

You smiled as you gave him your name and moved in close again. "You can call me little red if you want," you told him, your breath fanning against his ear. "Let's get to work."

Maybe once you finished burying the body, Bucky would convince you to tell him a bit more about yourself. Because he wasn't ready to let you leave his territory yet. Not when he sensed you had no one to go back to. And he had a feeling you weren't quite ready to leave yet either.

Surprise, surprise, I love them already. Love and thanks! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[pursuedbyamemoryy]

HIIII i saw requests were open… can you perhaps write some general relationship hc’s with arthur, john, and javier?? feel free to do anyone you like i just love them😊😊 thank you so much!!

☆ thank you for requesting, i got a little carried away with some of them hehe. i decided to add charles into the mix because he’s my fav and i couldn’t resist ;) i hope you enjoy reading <3 !!

🌾 arthur morgan

- he admitted his feelings to you by giving you a drawing he did of you that had a little note attached

- he draws you. all the time. before you got together, and while you’re together. he’ll draw you doing chores, sitting by the camp fire, sitting under a tree reading. he just admires you so much and can’t help but draw you

- he shows you everything he draws of you

- if you ask he’d try his best to teach you how to draw. he might not be the best teacher but he’d try his best

- he’s protective but not overprotective. he knows you can handle yourself but is always nearby just in case you need him

- once you’ve been together for a while he opens up to you about eliza and isaac. it’s a difficult thing for him to talk about but he trusts you enough to tell you

- he lets you wear his hat. you’re the only one besides himself who gets to wear it. he thinks it looks cute on you, plus he gets to use the cowboy hat rule excuse ;)

- he likes to get out of camp every so often just for some air and time alone. he used to go out by himself but after you got together he’d take you with him. sometimes it’ll be short rides and other times it’ll be staying out for a couple of days

- he can be a bit distant sometimes when he’s tired or stressed, and he prefers to be alone when he’s overwhelmed in any way. the only exception is you. he’ll reluctantly open up to you at first, but gets more comfortable over time, trusting you with how he’s feeling.

- he likes to joke around with you, and he really lets his playful side show when he’s with you.

- not a fan of PDA but loves cuddling with you in private. he prefers to be the big spoon, having you lay your head on his chest. he also really likes when you lay completely on top of him.

- his hands tend to wander while he holds you. he’ll idly trace patterns in your skin, running his hands up your spine or your arms.

- his love languages are words of affirmation and quality time

- he definitely calls you “my girl/boy”, or dear. not huge on pet names but will occasionally use them

🌾 john marston

- he’s a little oblivious to his feelings for you, which means you most likely confessed first

- i feel like he first started to really fall for you after the wolf attack, but just never spoke up about his feelings for you until you said something

- he’s also pretty protective of you, he comes off a little more harsh than arthur does but it’s all in good reason

- if there’s ever a situation where someone’s bothering you or even threatening you, john will step in immediately, doing anything and everything he can to scare off whoever’s causing problems

- is not afraid to get into a fight in order to protect you, which has resulted in lots of scolding and a couple more scars for him. he doesn’t mean to scare or worry you, he just cares about you too much to let someone talk bad about you or threaten you in any way

- he’s very touch starved and doesn’t realize it until you get together

- the first time you hug him is when he realizes. it was an awkward hug on his part, but he loved feeling you in his arms

- a lot of his touches are awkward at first, not because he doesn’t like it but because it’s something new to him. he’s unsure about where to put his hands, where he should look, etc

- he starts to get more comfortable with touch as you spend more time with him. eventually he’ll touch you out of habit. a hand resting on the small of your back, or on your thigh while you sit in front of the campfire together. small, innocent touches.

- he loves cuddling at night, and often prefers to be the one being held

- overall he really loves you and cares about you, he wants to be the best he can be for you

- you’ve caught him staring at you from across camp sometimes, a small, affectionate smile on his face

- his love language is words of affirmation.

- he likes pet names and uses them often, his favorite being babe or baby

🌾 javier escuella

- javier is one of the most romantic camp members in my opinion

- he definitely confessed first

- you both liked each other and were quite obvious about it, constantly flirting with one another, but he’s the one who asked you out first

- i like to think he asked you out through a song somehow

- either that or he came up to you, all flirty and asked you out to a night in the town (whichever was nearest to your current camp) , offering you a flower he found while he was out of camp

- plays his guitar for you ofc

- he also totally writes songs and dedicates them to you

- is more than willing to teach you how to play if you ask

- very touchy if you’re okay with it. he always has his hand on you or his arm wrapped around you

- he is very into PDA. he has no problem cuddling and holding you in front of the gang and he definitely does once he knows you’re okay with it

- you two will cuddle up near the campfire together, you sitting in his lap whenever he’s not playing his guitar

- he also loves cuddling before you fall asleep

- after you’ve been together for a bit he’ll invite you to sleep under his tent with him. he feels safe and comfortable with you, quickly falling asleep in your arms

- tells you stories about mexico and his family and life there. he has so many stories and will tell you each and every one

- you’re the one person he trusts to tell more personal stuff, he definitely opens up to you more after a while of being together. not only about his life in mexico but the harder parts of it, the stuff he doesn’t really tell anyone

- likes getting dressed up with you every one in a while and going out to saint denis or other cities, spending nights dancing and drinking together. he loves little dates away from camp

- takes you fishing with him. even if you don’t fish you’re going with him at least once, per his request

- if you like fishing then he’ll take you out on fishing trips often. just the two of you camping out by a lake for a day or two, fishing and spending time with one another

- overall he really loves when you ask him to teach you things because he can see that you take genuine interest in the things he likes. anything from guitar, fishing, to even spanish, he’s always willing to teach if you want to learn.

- uses spanish nicknames for you. hermosa, querida, mi vida, mi amor, cariño, etc. any and every pet name in the book, except in spanish

- he always flirts with you. even after you’ve been together for a while, his flirting never dies down. he’s always complimenting you, no matter what. even if you’re exhausted and dirty from being out on a job he still has a compliment for you.

- gets you a knife similar to his own. he wants you to be able to protect yourself, and he likes having something matching between the two of you <3

- shares his poncho with you if you get cold

- he lets you play with his hair and he’ll let you put it up for him

- he loves kissing you and he’s not shy about it. he’ll kiss you anywhere, anytime, he doesn’t care who sees.

- his love languages are touch and quality time. he just loves being near you

🌾 charles smith

- it took a while for charles to realize his feelings for you and you definitely had to approach him first.

- he’s quiet at first, but will open up to you as you get closer and spend more time with him.

- he’ll tell you everything he knows about his family and the stuff he went through as a kid once he feels comfortable with you

- a great listener. he could listen to you talk for hours, and often does. whether you talk about a job you went on, the chores you did that day, a clothing item or piece of jewelry you saw, or stories from your life, he’ll listen.

- not only will he listen, he’ll remember. he’ll remember every little detail, and often surprises you with the things he remembers.

- there’s lots of comfortable silence between the two of you. you’ll often work side by side without speaking a word but enjoying each other’s company. he could be making some arrows or sharpening the camp axe while you read or finish up a small chore like sewing up a hole in someone’s clothes.

- his love languages are definitely quality time and acts of service.

- he’ll do little things to help you out. he’ll do his own laundry so it doesn’t add to the laundry you already have. he’ll clean your guns and sharpen your knives for you. he’ll brush your horse and braid its mane when you’re busy and haven’t had time to. small things that make a difference.

- definitely teaches you how to hunt and track. you’ll go out with him each time the gang needs food, getting time away from camp which you both enjoy. takes you to all his best hunting spots, teaching you all his little tips and tricks to getting a clean kill.

- he’s not big on PDA and often gets embarrassed if someone sees you kissing or anything.

- he definitely gets used to it the longer you’ve been together, but he prefers to save all that stuff for behind closed doors.

- it’s not like he won’t kiss or hug you in front of anyone else, he just gets a bit flustered

- eventually you’ll move into his tent with him, and once you’re alone he’ll be a lot more physically affectionate

- he also enjoys cuddling. he’s spent a lot of time alone, sleeping in the wilderness by himself before he joined the gang, so sleeping next to you if very comforting to him.

- he doesn’t use a lot of pet names, but his favorite is “my love”.

- although he knows very little about his mother’s culture, he’ll share what he knows with you. he’ll tell you old stories that she told him growing up, and the significance of bison. you showing interest in his culture means a lot to him.

[quillpokebiology]

Bisharp Body Language, Behaviors, & Culture

Pawniard and Bisharp behaviors are some of my favorite pokemon to analyze due to their unique groups and interesting social cues. Their social cues and behaviors extend to when they have trainers and are born in captivity, and I think it's important for trainers to understand their pokemon. So, here are some Bisharp behaviors and cultures explained!

Body Language & Behaviours

Tapping

Many trainers might have noticed that their Pawniard/Bisharp will tap random surfaces. This behavior is just used to get your atention in order to tell you something. Maybe their hungry, maybe there's danger, and they want to warn you, but they are trying to get your attention for a reason.

Thiddling

(Idea from Eve-of-Halloween on Deviantart)

I think this behavior is very cute. It's a courting act where Pawniard/Bisharp tap their blades together or tap their partner/potential partner's blades in a rhythmic order.

Scraping

Sraping is a behavior where Pawniard/Bisharp scrape their blades together in order to threaten another Pawniard/Bisharp. This behaviour is used as a warning that they're about to attack. If a wild Bisharp does this to you, turn the other way because it most likely means that you are in its territory and doesn't want you there.

Bowing

Pawniard and Bisharp bow for 2 main reasons; bowing to their superiors to to invite someone to a friendly battle. Bowing to their superiors often includes keeping their blades behind their back, while bowing to initiate a friendly battle has their arms extended forward and their hands out.

Scouting

A behavior seen more commonly in Pawniard than Bisharp, and certainly not Kinggambit. This includes a group of Pawniard leaving their camp to go check their territory for any danger. With trainers or with humans, this behaviour includes getting up early and walking around the house or yard to check for any unwanted company.

Marking

Marking is when Pawniard/Bisharp mark their territory by carving their clan's symbol on rocks, trees, or other materials around them. This behaviour is more common in Pawniard than it is Bisharp, and Kingambit don't do it unless they're in captivity and their aren't any other Pawniard or Bisharp to do it for them. This behavior makes a lot of sense in the wild, but it can be annoying when your Pawniard ends up carving things on your walls or driveway.

Courting

Bisharp have a few different courting behaviors. This includes displaying their blades, gift giving, cutting up their partner's food, or sharpening their partner's blades. This behaviour can be a bit difficult when their mate isn't a member of thr Pawniard line, but they do pair very well with Gallade bcuz Gallade court in similar ways.

Clapping

The line claps for similar reasons we do; they like something. I'm just putting this here to explain the next part.

Laughing

Bisharp don't laugh the same reasons we do. We laugh when something is funny, but Bisharp will laugh to show power. It's common for Bisharp to laugh after a fight, and the behavior is seen as mocking. If you recently caught one, you should teach them that you're not mocking them when you're laughing. Or, if you want to accommodate your Bisharp, try clapping when you find something funny because clapping is also their version of laughing.

Clanging

Clanging is when Pawniard line members clang their heads together as a form of greeting. It's used as a way to form deeper bonds amongst their pack.

Culture

I just want to say that each Pawniard/Bisharp pack/clan has different cultures and behaviors, and they're not all the same. I go over it a bit in my Pawniard Facts post, and I'll go over it as well in my Bisharp Fact posts, but I am going itno more detail here!

Writing & Symbols

Each Pawniard pack has their own symbols for their clan, which they use to mark their territory. While they don't write as much as Weavile do, there have been recorded cases of them drawing symbols that aren't their or other clan symbols that they use to communicate with one another.

Naming

The Pawniard line does, in fact, name each other! It's usually vocal sounds coming from the mouth, and they may even have symbols for their names. This extends to their trainers. If your Pawniard/Bisharp/Kingambit always refers to you with a specific soundz that means that they have named you. And while it's hard to translate what these names mean, as scientists aren't fully sure if what their symbols mean, they have figured out some, and many Pawniard/Bisharp/Kingambit are named after things that are around them; like different trees or rocks.

Affection

Because of the blades all over their body, the line isn't much for physical affection. Instead, the line will show affection to one's they are close with by doing acts of service or do something I like to call "Allogrooming but without the grooming bcuz idk what it's called," where clans will have dedicated times to just relaxing and communicating eith each other. For trainers, this behavior can translate as your partner following you around or giving you gifts.

Honor

So many Bisharp clans have such a high focus on honor. The most honorable thing a Bisharp can do is become a strong leader, so evolving into a Kingambit is one of the best things you can do. But since only one clan can have a kingambit, other Pawniard and Bisharp just focus on becoming stronger for their clan and Kingambit.

Mourning

Like humans, the Pawniard line buries their dead. They're often buried with different stones or beloved objects. Researchers understand the beloved objects part, but they're still trying to figure out what the stones mean. They will have funerals foe their dead and different clans have different ways for their funerals. Some clans will have moments of silence, some will have battles, and some will celebrate their fallen friends next chapter into the afterlife.

Integration

The Pawniard line prefers to keep to their own clans, with integration of clans not being a very common thing. BUT, it isn't unheard of. It mostly happens when a Kingambit manages to take control over multiple clans, resulting in larger territories and more clan members. Integration can also happen with outer species as well. Members of the line are known to accept other humanoid pokenon into their clans, like Charcadet or Gallade, but they also get along very well with the Aegislash line. Researchers believe it is because Aegislash is attracted to any pokemon that has organized societies and have power, making it easier for the Aegislash to befriend said pokemon. Works for Bisharp's favor, since now they have something to protect them from fighting types.

Hope this helps! It was very fun researching the structures of their socities and their behaviours. If you use any questions, please ask me!

[tipsynight0]

Through the rain we find colour

Paring - Toby rogers x female reader

Word count - 800

Synopsis - aurora lights and dancing in the rain

Tw - literally just all fluff

Author's note - well, first time writing Toby so bare with me. I also saw the aurora lights last night so you guys get to as well. Enjoy <3

A soft chill filled the hollow forest, the wind whispering between trees as dark clouds blanketed the sky. Toby and (y/n) walked the narrow path, their steps in sync, each breath tinged with the cool autumn air. It was the night, the one (y/n) had eagerly awaited. They had come to witness the aurora lights, though with the heavy cloud cover, it seemed like an unlucky chance that they’d be able to catch a glimpse. Still, (y/n) hoped. Toby walked beside her, his bandaged hand held tightly in hers.

“I-I don’t th-think w-we’re g-gonna s-see them,” Toby stammered, his fingers twitching in her grasp as his neck cracked with one of his usual tics. (Y/n) had long grown accustomed to his tics—both physical and vocal. They were just another part of him, one she embraced fully.

She gave his hand a soft, reassuring squeeze and frowned slightly, her determination unwavering. "We’re gonna see them, Toby. Just you wait," she murmured as they finally reached a clearing. The forest opened up, and despite the thick clouds, a sliver of hope glimmered in the night sky.

Toby’s tics continued—his body jerking lightly, lips twitching with the occasional uncontrollable grunt. He often bit down on his bottom lip to stop a verbal tic, and tonight was no different. But (y/n) never flinched. Instead, she pulled out the camera she had borrowed (or more accurately, stolen) from Tim, her hands steady as she focused it on the sky.

Toby leaned closer to her, resting his head against her shoulder, trying to get a better look at what she was capturing. His breath was warm against her neck, despite the cool air. “Y-you’re h-hogging it,” he grumbled, a frustrated tic causing him to bite his lip again. His voice held a playful edge, though, a sign that he was more comfortable with her than anyone else.

“Shh, just look closer,” (y/n) whispered, her lips curving into a small smile. Together, they peered through the camera lens. Beyond the clouds, faint streaks of color—purple, pink, green, and blue—began to fill the sky, swirling in gentle arcs.

Toby’s eyes widened in awe. He lowered his mask just enough to press a soft kiss on (y/n)’s cheek. The gesture was tender and sweet, something intimate he rarely allowed himself. His hand found its way to the small of her back, pulling her closer as they both stared up at the fleeting colors above them.

“I-it’s s-so beautiful,” he whispered, a popping sound escaping his lips as another tic took hold. He quickly followed her guidance, pressing the button to snap a picture. “N-now we w-won’t forget it,” he added in a low voice, his gaze locking with hers.

Before either could say anything more, (y/n) leaned in, closing the gap between them. Her lips met his, soft and warm against the cool night air. Toby’s hands slid up to her hair, fingers gently tangling in it as he kissed her back with all the affection he’d kept bottled up for so long. It was a moment of quiet magic between them—just the two of them and the fleeting aurora.

As they kissed, rain began to fall, soft droplets at first, trickling down their faces and mixing with the remnants of the aurora’s glow. A soft shiver ran through (y/n) as she opened her eyes. The rain started coming down faster, steadily soaking them both.

“We should go,” (y/n) said with a soft sigh, pulling back just slightly. The aurora lights had already started to fade, and the sky was dark once more. But Toby shook his head, his expression both serious and playful at once. His hands found hers again, holding them firmly.

“D-dance with m-me,” he stammered, his body jerking slightly as another tic passed through him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her close, despite the rain that was now falling in sheets. The world around them seemed to disappear, and all that remained was the sound of rain and the feel of their bodies moving in sync.

“J-just l-like in y-your r-romance movies,” he teased, brushing her wet hair out of her face. They swayed together, their movements slow and deliberate, their laughter the only sound filling the rainy forest. The water soaked through their clothes, and their shoes squelched in the mud, but neither of them cared. For this moment, it was perfect.

As the wind picked up, whipping through the clearing, they finally made the wise choice to dash for the mansion. The mud squelched underfoot, sending water splashing as they laughed together, drenched but happy.

[rs-hawk]

Idea since I saw you might want to work on more trans monster works, thoughts on an MTF orc? I already saw one on an FTM orc so why not give some love to the transfems too?

I haven’t done much with Orcs in general so this should be fun 🤗

When you saw her, your entire body felt like it was on fire. Your eyes trailed down her physique, a lump forming in your throat as you watched her muscles ripple under her clothes. Rationally, you knew that you should be terrified of her. One of the beasts that had been destroying your home, hunting survivors down, was mere feet from you. If she looked up, she would certainly see you.

Yet, you couldn’t help yourself. She was gorgeous. How could you do anything but stare? Even when she tilted her head up, sniffing deeply, you couldn’t tear your eyes away. It was clear she was about to find you. As her eyes locked onto yours, despite the branches and leaves hiding you from view in the tree. You felt a clenching in the bottom of your stomach. Her eyes were intoxicating.

She smirked as she reached for you. Despite finally snapping out of it and trying to back up, she still grabbed you, pulling you out of the tree.

“Hello little human,” she chuckled as she tossed you over her shoulder.

“Please don’t kill me,” you whimpered out, knowing it was pointless to try to fight her to escape.

“Kill you?” she repeated as she carried you deeper into the forest. “No, that’s not why I want you.”

You swallowed another lump in your throat but didn’t respond. After a brief hike, she brought you to a cave. It was lit up with torches that lined the walls. It was sparsely furnished but what was there was fur lined or made of animal hides. She set you on a mound of furs that reminded you of a nest.

Before you could ask anything else, she started to shed her armor. “Humans and Orcs are very compatible,” she said as she tossed her clothing to the side, revealing more of her hard muscles. Your mouth was watering as you watched her. “We even often have mates that are human. We can smell them.”

“Yeah?” your voice was hoarse and your throat tight that it was all you could get out.

She chuckled as she stopped taking off her clothes, her hard she-cock straining in her underwear. You could see a wet spot from her precum already forming. Your cunt started throbbing excitedly as you wondered what she looked like. How big she was

“Yeah,” she muttered as she crawled on you, grinding her cock against your cunt through both of your clothing. “That’s just why we’re here. Why we’re all here. We just want our mates.”

“Okay,” you whispered as she palmed her cock over her underwear before pulling it out. She was huge. Far larger than any human could ever hope to be.

She slipped her hand into your pants, teasing your clit as she started stroking herself. “You’re so wet for me already. Can you feel the mate bond?” she asked in a gruff voice, breathing and panting in your ear.

All you could do was nod and whine as you felt her start to draw an orgasm out of you. Then, without warning, she plunged two of her long, thick fingers into you. Just those was more than anything you’d ever taken. You clung to her, panting and whining as she kept fingering you, letting go of herself to strip away your pants and underwear. You didn’t even care that she was spreading your legs, watching with hungry eyes as your greedy cunt took everything she gave you.

You had to stretch around her fingers, but you were glad she’d done that because as she drew them out, she lined her cock up with your soaking wet hole. She kissed you deeply, forcing her tongue into your mouth just as she forced her too big cock inside of you. Her lips silenced your cries as she ravaged you, hitting every part of you as she tried to force her entire cock inside of you. You were stretched wide, but even then, you couldn’t take all of her yet.

She pulled back, watching you whimper and cry out now as she rammed into you. She set her hand over your stomach, pushing on the bulge her cock caused each time she bullied into your cervix. Your cunt was spasming as she drew orgasm after orgasm out of you by hitting your g-spot and playing with your clit as she filled you.

Just as you felt like you were on the verge of passing out, she flipped you on your stomach, pushing your face into the furs and lifting your ass up. Just as you realized what she was doing, she forced every too thick inch inside of you. In this position, it felt even larger. You don’t know how you took it.

Tears pricked your eyes as she drew her tusks along your back, leaving angry marks and kisses as she pumped rope after rope or hot cum into your poor cunt. You couldn’t even think. You just laid there as she picked you up, continuing to use you like a toy, filling you with her cum and cock. Vaguely, through the haze of pleasure and pain, you watched your blood drip off her tusks from where she had cut you with them.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

hey! question/something you could turn into a concept if you wish. do you think yandere scaramouche (fatui era) would act differently than yandere wanderer? or do you think they'd act generally the same? it's so interesting to see peoples interpretations of different versions of scara lol :3

ah this was such a fun concept, i could talk endlessly about the differences between them but i kept it short and sweet for now! i hope you enjoy :D

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including verbal abuse, scaramouche being a douche, delusional behaviors, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

There are very noticeable differences between Scaramouche and Wanderer and some that only those close would pick up on. For one, Scaramouche always walked with confidence, drawing attention to himself and commanding everyone’s eyes, Wanderer now prefers a different approach, lingering on the sidelines and watching others, observing.

Scaramouche’s porcelain was pristine, his cracks repaired and his joints flawless. Wanderer is rougher, some small hairline fractures and other larger chunks missing from different parts of him, patched over with bandages for the time being. His joints are no better, with him always in the forest he’s prone to getting dirt and rocks in them, making it not only difficult but also painful to move them. He often has to get assistance in cleaning them.

Those are some of the more noticeable ones, but less noticeable ones are how they would speak to a darling. Scaramouche is rough, standoffish to ensure he isn’t abandoned once more, left behind and forgotten again. Wanderer is snarky, a bit rude, but there’s less of an edge to it. He’s snippy to maintain a facade, not wanting others to see how soft he’s gone despite him being wiped from everyone’s memory. 

“You disgusting waste of space, you should be grateful I even spare you a minute of my time. Honestly, what purpose do you serve aside from keeping my bed warm? Pathetic.” Scaramouche doesn’t even look at you as he scoffs out insult after insult, his focus on himself in the mirror as he looks over a crack he’d recently gotten. He’d have to go to that wretched doctor to get it fixed, couldn’t go around looking broken, looking weak.

“You’re in my way, move before I make you.” The crossing of his arms and the annoyed, melodramatic tone of his voice are enough to move you away from the bookcase. Your eyes are wide, an apology caught in your throat as he huffs, grabs a book off the shelf without even pausing to look before stalking off again. It was like he’d done this before. As he walks off though, you can’t help but notice the strange way he moves, his left leg swings strangely, like there was something stopping it from bending all the way when he lifts it. Strange.

Neither are particularly nice or sweet, but you’re more likely to get Wanderer to warm up to you than Scaramouche. The cold-hearted puppet that was a Fatui member didn’t need anyone, nor did he want them, he only wanted power, wanted to be recognized for what he was and what he could do. Wanderer isn’t after that, he’s looking for himself in the trees, hoping that by rescuing another lost child, eliminating a camp of bandits, freeing one more Rishboland tiger from an illegal trap will tell him something. Will give him some hint or clue as to what he was really made for. 

Scaramouche works best with a willing darling who is ok with being pushed around, ignored, and verbally degraded. He won’t ever say he loves you, won’t coddle you when you cry or get hurt, won’t buy you gifts or make things for you. But he always returns to bed with you at night, laying beside you as he watches you sleep. He’s above it, but there’s a comfort in watching you sleep, a time where he can just shut his mind down and pretend he’s nothing and no one.

Wanderer works best with a darling who is a little more forceful in asserting themselves, showing up at the bookstore he frequents, following him into the forest to see what he’s up to, asking around about him until word gets back to him and he confronts you about it. It takes a long time for him to open up to you, even more so before he starts to seek you out himself, but slowly he grows to become as much a part of your life as you have his. And he doesn’t entirely hate it.

[batneko]

okay, time to actually type up my thoughts on this AU! With some new art to make it worth it.

for context, here's part one and part two.

so the basics are, Bowser is continually trying to conquer the city and being fought off by the bros, who do have superpowers (I thought about drawing lightning around Luigi's fist but I don't know how to make that look good in lineart) and costumes and "hero names," but don't hide their faces so they don't exactly have secret identities. It's more like being an actor with a stage name. Since they're fairly average-looking dudes they don't get recognized all the time, especially when they're apart, but Mario definitely does more often than Luigi.

But even when they're not recognized by the starbucks barista, people expect a lot of them. Not just stopping Bowser, but stopping everyday problems, rescuing cats from trees or standing in for a broken TV antenna. Eventually the pressure gets to Mario and he decides to fake his death and make a run for it. He's not really thinking clearly at the time and he regrets it almost immediately, but he can't bring himself to go back and face everyone's disappointment. He needs to figure himself out first.

He does at least contact Luigi as soon as he's out of the city to reassure him he's not dead. He doesn't tell him where he's going though, and Luigi can't contact him back, he has to wait for Mario to call, so Luigi does genuinely miss him and can fake grief when he needs to without too much prompting.

Bowser, meanwhile, was genuinely not expecting to "kill" his greatest rival. He never really wanted Mario dead, he just wanted the city! But he's not going to let this opportunity pass him by- Or so he thinks, until he's beaten into a pulp by the other hero that he usually forgot about.

Okay, fine, Bowser can still work with this. Heal up, regroup, give it another try- Aaaand this time he's ganged up on by three heroes he's never even seen before. What the heck is happening?

Turns out that without Mario's charismatic leader act keeping everyone reassured (and complacent), a bunch of people are stepping into the gap. Luigi, Peach, Daisy, probably more than one Toad or Yoshi... Bowser can't plan for this! They all have different powers, different strategies, different types of banter. He's overwhelmed.

So Bowser gets the idea that he needs just one hero to fight. Maybe with a sidekick, but still. That way he can time his cool speeches and minimize the amount he gets punched in the face. He already killed one of them, maybe if he works his way through the others one at a time he'll finally win. Eventually. Someday.

He gets the super crown disguise watch (I still haven't decided if there's a real guy whose appearance and name he is copying) and finds his first hero. Mario's sidekick. Should be the easiest one to fight, right? Bowser just needs to convince him that it's better for everyone if the city only has one hero at a time. It's about continuity. It'll reassure them. Give them a symbol.

Unfortunately for Bowser (and fortunately for us) Luigi is way too nice a guy to chase off some random bear person just for recognizing him and having Opinions about all this hero stuff. Luigi talks to him, addresses his concerns, answers his questions, and the guy is actually surprisingly willing to listen. Most people who try to tell him how to do his job don't care about facts and logic!

Next thing Bowser knows, he's been invited for coffee next week. That's... fine, right? This is progress! It's not a date, it's just getting close to his target! And it's definitely not a problem that Luigi is really cute and sweet and patient and has big blue eyes and a nice smile and the warmth of his handshake lingered for the rest of the afternoon...

Everything is totally fine! 👍