#if biting was a love language

[violetsastrocytes]

whenever i write rosekiller the vibes are 🍴🔪🫀🫦🥀💥🥩🧨⛓️ but i'm listening to 'this love' by taylor swift

[lotus-pear]

"dazai would princess carry chuuya" "dazai would hold chuuya bridal style" no shutup dazai would pick chuuya up like he's a sopping wet kitten or a sack of potatoes

[mydarkgothikana]

Halloween may have passed, but the need to sink my teeth into a beautiful woman's neck hasn't

[dire-wolf-days]

“I love you”

“I love you too”

<3

[hyunpic]

DAILY HYUNJIN GIFS UNTIL HIS BDAY: love you and all your little things - ferretism

[pettyprocrastination]

Art “oral fixation” Donaldson ya’ll. Type of kid who always got a pop upside the head from his momma because “quit chewing on your nails arthur! You’ll get pinworms.” A habit that was once curbed as a child but still rears it’s head in times of stress. You can always tell when he’s nervous about something because you’ll catch him absentmindedly chewing on a pen cap while working or studying. 

Art being the sloppiest and most selfish kisser on god’s green earth. It’s never one kiss (he always promises it will be though). One turns into two, then another to your cheek, then the other side and down your neck until he’s leaving hickies and humming against your skin and the funny thing is he doesn’t even have to want to have sex he just loves having his mouth on you that goddamn much. You start keeping a small travel bag of concealer in his dorm because of how often you need to hide the goddamn hickies he leaves on you everytime you visit him. 

“You might as well just not bother with covering them up.” 

“You’re not the one who looked like they got jumped by Dracula, dipshit.” 

You see the way he was waiting to kiss Tashi when she was kissing patrick? Eyes all glazed over and mouth open? Yeah that. Baby boy will gladly just suck and kiss and bite you all over- you dont even have to do anything! Just lay there and run your hands through his hair and maybe tell him he’s doing a good job now and then he’ll be in fucking nirvanna. 

The way he eats you out verges on being selfish tbh. He’s practically drooling over your cunt, moaning against your clit like it brings him more pleasure than it does for you. He won’t pull away until you’ve cum more than once and even then you’ll have to pull him away from his spot between your legs, where he’ll look at you with confusion wondering if he’s done something wrong before it melts into that grin and he’ll lay his head on your stomach, content to simply sit in this moment with you before the pair of you have to return to the normal hustle and bustle of your lives.

[strawberrylemongrass]

biting you to show affection

biting you to show aggression

biting you to show playfulness

biting you to show boredom

biting you just because :)

[tremordusk]

rio chews on stuff a lot as a stim and sometimes just chews/bites agathas arm

Rio: Where’s my infinity cube! *nervous fidgeting*

Alice: Not sure

Rio, spots Agatha: Mi vida!

Agatha: Rio?

Rio, proceeding to chomp right down on Agatha’s bare shoulder: *nom*

Billy: CANNIBALISM—

Agatha, cackles: That used to be one of our kinks back in the early days—

Alice, concerned look: Agatha, she’s biting down harder

Agatha, looks to Rio who has unlatched herself from her shoulder and chomps lower on Agatha’s arm: You are all acting as if she doesn’t do this to me in the bedroom

Jen, walking in: TMI Agatha!

Agatha: No one asked you, Jen!

Billy: Why does she look hungry? Why is she glaring at me with your arm in her mouth—

Agatha: Billy, let my wife stim in peace.

[archiarthur]

Smh im sick of them/lying

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

The Human Bit the Werewolf?

Chapter 1: The Bite of 2013

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 2

Stiles chews on things almost compulsively, always has.

He has a binky as a toddler that had to be ripped away crying and screaming even though he'd chew through them. He chewed the lid to every sippy cup he had and the straw to every cup after.

It was funny at first, they'd call him a little chipmunk or a bunny. When it inevitably got annoying, people made thinnly veiled insults about being like a poorly trained doy or a goat.

As a kid, he chewed on the loose-hanging bit of his backpack straps. He was once gifted a cross necklace and he'd always put it in his mouth to fidget with until his dad took it away during church. He chewed on his erasers. When they were taken away, he'd chew on the metal bit of his pencils, and then he'd start chewing on the pencil itself when they took that. If they ever took his pencils, he'd start chewing on his nails or his shirt.

He still chews on his pencils. In fact, he tends to rip the clip off the mechanical ones to chew on them. He’d stick the jeep key in his mouth and rub it between his teeth. At least now, teachers don't freak out if he has gum.

It'd always been like that. Stiles didn’t really know why or what drove it, probably his ADHD since he's never had an original experience in his life(barring the supernatural). That was only half of it, though.

Then there was the biting. And, if Stiles had been a werewolf, things would have gone awry much sooner.

He often got the urge to bite things or people he cared for– after many hors of stressed googling, he figured out it was probably just a form of cuteness aggression his brain didn't properly filter. That said, he used to regularly bite his parents and Scott when he was little, before he was taught not to.

Then he started dating Malia and it got worse. He stuffed the urge down for a while, chewing his pen or nails instead.

The first time he did bite her– it was more of a nip really– it was done playfully when they were talking and joking after having sex. He really thought he’d fucked up when she pinned him against the bed on reflex. Then she told him to do it again.

She'd tell him to bite her while they had sex so he, of course, thought it was a kink thing. When Malia would catch him staring at her and chewing on his pens, she'd glare at him. Apparently, she got annoyed with him and, in a very Malia way of dealing with things, pinned him down against his bed and interrogated him about it.

"Why do you only bite me when we have sex?"

"Wha—"

"I know you want to do it more often, so why don't you," she asked, glaring down at Stiles.

"You want me to bite you more," Stiles asked, shear confusion in his voice.

"Obviously, dumbass," Malia scoffed.

Stiles might he an idiot at times, but he's not too stupid to do what he's told, especially when it benefits him too. And, sure, it was weird the first few times he did it, but it also didn't at all. He’d occasionally just take Malia's hand in his and bring it to his mouth and nip at her fingers.

It was weirdly normal, an easy habit to fall into. The only thing that made it weird was when people stared at them for it, and Malia was quick to remedy that.

When they broke up, Stiles found himself back at square one, chewing his pencils and trying to ignore his brain. It mostly resulted in a lot of teeth grinding.

Stiles started to notice the need to chewnon something got worse around the pack. He tried to chalk it up to his subconscious reacting to Malia, which he knew was bull shit. He knew what it was, who it was.

When Derek would cross his arms and flex just perfect to frame the muscles in his arms and chest or when he'd use the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, showing off his ab-muscles, or when he'd wipe blood off his face with the back of his hand, or raise his eyebrows at Stiles in annoyance, or– honestly– just exist in the mear vicinity of Stiles, it was like he teeth itched to bite him. Just a little nip, as a treat, ya know? Sometimes the irony of it would hit him, Stiles wanting to bite the werewolf when it should be the other way around. Then again, Stiles had rather regularly bitten Malia, the were-coyote while they dated.

Stiles had problems. Psychological problems.

One late night of blurry-eyed research, Derek snuck in through Stiles's open window and found him asleep at his desk with about a million b's typed into the search bar. He sighed to himself and tried to wake Stiles up. He at least wanted to get the idiot to sleep in bed rather than hunched over the desk.

"Stiles, wake up," Derek whispered, not wanted to alert sheriff of his presence.

Stiles hummed and looked at Derek tiredly.

"Come on, let's get you to bed,"Derek grumbled, lifting Stiles out of the chair so he was standing up even though Derek was supporting most of his weight.

"Thankks Der," Stiles mumbled, letting himself be guided to bed. "Ya know, you’re cute when your nice," he hummed, not fully grasping how much he'd regret it later.

Derek didn't say anything more, rather he tried to ignore the sleepy mumblings.

"So cute I could just..." Stiles clicked his teeth together in a mock bite.

In his tired state, he fully missed how Derek’s face turned red. He tossed the blankets aside and plopped Stiles down on the bed. He didn't stick around much longer, deciding he'd get the info he came for second-hand from Scott.

Stiles noticed how Derek was pointedly absent absent in the next few days. If he wanted information from Stiles, he'd ask Scott or one of the betas to ask. Stiles could text Derek about something and would be lucky to receive a one word text back.

He remembered Derek swinging by and talking some but not about what. He was sure his big mouth was ruining things again, just not how bad.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek started being willing– and able– to be around again. Still, the others ketp giving him weird looks. He also noticed that Derek would look away everytime Stiles looked at his, as if he’d been caught staring.

Of course, things couldn't possibly be normal for more than five minutes in Beacon Hills and especially not with their little group. Inevitable, things went to Hell.

Stiles couldn’t have even told you what it was they'd been fighting– some goat or bull creature with horns. He remembered the horns because he'd gotten the business end of them and a matching concussion. Really, all he remembered was sitting on the cold bathroom floor, watching Derek’s muscle move under his skin as he patched up Isaac or Scott, maybe Jackson.

That bitting itch– pun intended– grew in his head and Stiles just... leaned forward and bit Derek’s arm. His skin was salty with sweat and he could feel the hair against his skin.

He didn’t realize how quiet or still it had gotten when he leaned back. He didn't realize for a while.

"Stiles, did you just bite me," Derek asked as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He was caught between concern and confusion and arousal but was really trying to stick with concern.

"I did," Stiles asked back, surprised he'd acted on the thought. "Shit, sorry dude. I tend to— I don't know why... Fuck, my head hurts," he sighed, trying to form a coherent explanation.

Before Stiles could figure out how to put things into words, Scott was driving him to the hospital.

And, once again, Derek was avoiding him, only worse! Stiles couldn’t get an answer through text. Derek was never there whe the pack met up. When Stiles tried to stop by the loft to talk, Derek was never there. On top of which, Stiles swore he'd see Derek out of the corner of his eye but there was nobody there when he looked. He was genuinely starting to feel crazy.

He was sure he'd fucked up really bad when goddamn Peter showed up at the school to talk to him.

"Stiles, let's go for a walk," Peter said in his fake nice, higher than thou, tone.

"I’m not supposed to talk to creepy mass murders," Stiles said back, walking towards the jeep instead.

"Now, don't you want to know why my dear nephew has been avoiding you," Peter goaded and Stiles begrudgingly stopped walking. "I must say, you are a rather forward one. I didn’t expect it, though it seems quite obvious in hindsight," he mused.

Stiles shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"From what I understand, you bit my dear nephew without forewarning and in front of everyone. Might as well have stuck your hand in his pocket and kissed him as well," Peter teased.

"Whoa, whoa whoa, what the Hell are you talking about," Stiles asked, starting to get a little freaked out.

"What, do you not do that anymore," Peter asked rhetorically. "I always thought putting your hand in someone else's pocket was rather uncomfortable, but it was a blatant sign that you were together."

"God, I know what the pocket thing means," Stiles said, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "But why are you bringing it up?"

"I know you're not a complete idiot. That's why you're not dead... Yet," Peter added. "You dated Malia so I'm sure you understand why biting Derek was such an ordeal."

"Not, I actually don't. Explaining things isn't exactly Malia's strong suit," Stiles shot back, internally kicking himself seconds after remembering Peter was Malia's birth father. "That didn't sound right. I—"

"Stop digging the hole now," Peter told him, holding a hand up. "Malia didn't tell you, and it was never anything you came across in your research?"

"Obviously not."

"Oh, dear boy," Peter said with a slimey smirk, "biting for us is the equivalent of announcing someone is your partner. However, I'm even more curious why you did it now..."

Stiles decided quickly he was not elaborating on the why. "So, I basically told everyone - including him - that Derek and I are dating, and he immediately had me swept off the ER and is now avoiding me? Nope, still weird," he said and walked off.

Peter, having not expected this turn of events and having no more cards to play, let him walk away. "Well, this will be interesting..."

[ghouljams]

At this point aphrodite!reader should just bite him in a fit of cuteness agression, maybe then he'll understand

Teeth you know.

They scrape against your skin, dredge themselves through the pitch of night and leave you burning for more.

They follow phantom touches and words whispered in a tongue that sticks to consonants you can't parse.

They are dangerous and gleaming, and oh so gentle with you.

And you arch into the feeling of them, hoping to be devoured,

Only for the dream to leave you.

You pad down to the forge, the heavy clang of Nikto's hammer guiding you like a siren's call. The grit of soot beneath your bare feet reminds you that you've foregone the boots Nikto insisted you wear, but you can't find it in you to mind. The stone floor is so warm, and you let out a please hum at the blast of hot air that hits you as you open the forge door.

Nikto is inspecting an arrow when you enter the forge, holding the silvery thing up to the darkness with his pliers as he inspects it. He lowers it back to the anvil and raises his hammer to strike it anew.

"Zolotse," Nikto greets, his voice just loud enough to cover the sound of metal striking metal, "It is late, go back to bed."

You ignore his command in favor of picking your way to his workbench. A quiver of silvery arrows strewn across the wood, each with perfectly trimmed feathers and sculpted points. You press your fingers against one and find Nikto's rough hand covering yours, pulling you away.

"For Artemis," He tells you, "Don't touch."

You've never seen his worktable properly before. Screws and nails are set in neat plates with walled edges. Tools rest on leather wraps. Raw ingots and metals sit in lumps in one corner waiting to be processed by Nikto's practiced hand. Organized, and yet there's a distinct messiness to the workstation. Claustrophobically cluttered.

Your eyes fall on the plate of food at the edge of the table, warming grapes and olives, bread quickly going stale, ambrosia barely touched.

"You haven't eaten." It puzzles you, somehow. He hasn't eaten, he hasn't come to bed, how is he still able to swing his hammer with such strength? Isn't he tired? Hungry?

"We will eat later." He turns you away from the table, "You will bed now."

You turn back and catch the growl of frustration that Nikto bites off.

"You have to eat something," You insist, reaching for the plate. You're surprised his hands don't catch you again as you break the crusty bread between your hands and tear off a bite to dredge through the wine like ambrosia.

You cup your hand under the bite as you hold it out to him.

"Eat."

You don't know where your boldness comes from, if you were so bold when you married Nikto, or if it's his own curt demeanor starting to rub off on you, but you stand there and wait.

Nikto watches you, his breath puffing through the mask he wears like smoke from a chimney. His eyes are cold, the icy blue like a winter storm in the middle of the forge, and then they're gone, covered by the mask he tugs up as he beds down to take the bite from between your fingers. His mouth furnace hot and his tongue searching.

His teeth scrape your fingers and your body shivers with heat.

Familiar,

like a wonderful dream.

[nattikay]

the constant inner struggle of a Na'vi speaker/teacher browsing Na'vi OCs

[qprconcepts]

qpp “i’m gonna bite you” x qpp “STOP TAKING CHUNKS OUT OF ME?!?!?”

[authenticyuri]

sighhhhh okie. chilaios under cut

[hyunpic]

[yeesiine]

With every bite mark…