#it's SUCH a freak i love this awful creature

[toovaeloe]

curse biologist!reader x assistant!gojo hc’s

content: gojo pining off his ass . little flirty lab partners . tw for sliiighhtest mention of an autopsy and related tools . warning for gojo poppin’ a stiff one in the lab cause he’s a freak like that (ur a freak like that), so mildly suggestive

mdni

curse biologist!reader— the higher ups want you dead and gone, that’s for sure. You, who has a cursed technique that turns cursed energy into something tangible. After applying your technique to a cursed spirit, it becomes visible to a naked human eye, and instead of disintegrating, leaves a corpse behind. You’re dangerous. Crazy. And well…too weird. But they just hate progress, don’t they?

Not Gojo. He really doesn’t think you’re doing any harm to be honest (and he’ll do just about anything if it creases another wrinkle into Gakuganji’s ugly mug)

I mean, who else has been able to make waves in the integration of curses into science like you have? You’ve uncovered an exponential amount about the inner workings of curses in a few years when the rest of Jujutsu society’s had centuries, only to scratch the surface. It’s really admirable how you deep dive into the nitty gritty, as he calls it.

assistant!gojo— who loves being your little go-getter. Your own personal cursed spirit Fetch-Fido— maybe if you squint hard enough you’ll be able to see floppy ears perked to attention in his snowy hair or an eager tail whipping up a hurricane behind him as he brings you back his latest catch: a detained grade 2 curse manifested by the fear of monsters under the bed. Yeah, he knew you’d like something like that.

assistant!gojo— loves witnessing the way your eyes light up and it’s as if he can see the cogs immediately gearing to life in your smart little brain. He’s saluting exaggeratedly with a puffed out chest when you give him the go ahead to kill the thing after you’ve had your hand at it. It’s all he can do not to ask for a pat on the head and praise of how well he did. Getting a “Good boy,” out of you is on his mental vision board.

assistant!gojo— sticks around for the autopsies. Likes watching you poke around inside the creatures and is waiting on your hand and foot through the entire process. Scalpel? Bone saw? Enterotomy scissors? The bread knife??? He’s even starting to become attuned to your whims, tool already in hand before you extend your palm.

If you murmured an awed, “look at thaaat,” he’s quick to huddle in close under the pretense of observing whatever oddity that’s intrigued you. Only to squish his cheek against yours with a feigned, “hmm…mhmm…” nodding stiltedly, and not so discreetly nuzzling his face closer to yours with an impish glint in those azure eyes as he casts a sidelong glance to your skeptical neutrality.

assistant!gojo— staring at you with the widest puppy dog eyes as you discard your gloves and begin sketching diagrams of the latest brain you’ve picked apart, comparing it to the contradicting one of another curse, and contrasting from the drastically different human model you have. He can listen to you babble for hours, if only absorbing every other word of your theories on why a curse’s blood runs violet or how you’re so excited to get these samples to the lab. He’ll still chip in with his own question or hypothesis from time to time, because he’s curious too, but more than that he loves the way you answer.

assistant!gojo— purposely uses candy and sweets as a metaphor whenever you plead with him to explain how he views the electromagnetic spectrum through those eyes of his, just because he thinks it’s funny how desperate you are to know. To this day you can’t decode however the fuck that analogy about laffy taffy and rock candy was supposed to relate to infrared waves.

assistant!gojo— Satoru can’t decide what’s worse; the fact that he can’t get you out of his head or the fact that you want inside of his head

This whole situation is basically him giving you googoo eyes and kissy faces as you scribble down something on your clipboard and try to stick him with a needle

assistant!gojo— who’s willing to be a bit of a lab rat for you. He’s all giggles as he prances up to your vertical operation table, huffing lightly when you strap him against the cool steel. “Don’t be shy now, y’could go tighter than that. You know I like it when you tie me up,,” he encourages oh so unhelpfully.

assistant!gojo— chiding you to be careful when you begin application of the biosensors across his chest, cause he’ll get “a little too excited.” You don’t pay mind to his little quip until you see his already irregularly R-R intervals spike impossibly short on the electrocardiogram readings. And then again as you finish hooking him up to the machine.

assistant!gojo— thinks you might be overthinking what environmental stimuli might have caused that anomaly, or maybe judging by that poorly veiled smile and half-hearted “My mistake,” you’ve purposefully placed that one sensor node a little too low on his pelvis this time. Now that he’s thinkin’ about— yeah—there definitely wasn’t any need for you crouch so low until your nose was practically level with the apex of his thigh. Or for you to look up at him in a way that had him failing to suppress a shiver and his breath hitching when you smoothly rubbed the padding of the damn thing into his hip with your thumb. Aaaand fuck, he’s bricked in the lab. (again.)

He’d kill to know what’s going on in your noggin. And frankly he’s dying to get the pants off his fave smartypants.

a/n: as soon as I got this idea i was like ooo biting my lip and bigbig smile,, onto something? am I onto something??? would anybody maybemaybe read a one shot with this concept 👀? okay I love you byyyee

[jadeshifting]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ SUPERNATURAL DR. ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺ .　. 　 ˚　.

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

the thing about me is that i’ve always been a little off. not in a way you could put your finger on—rather, it’s the kind of strangeness that sneaks up on people. i hum under my breath, something old and haunting. sometimes people notice the way i watch the world, like i’m expecting it to crack open and spill something glittering and awful at my feet. i’m like a girl who stepped out of a gothic storybook and never quite made it all the way back

˚　.˚ . 　 ˚　.　.˚ BUNNY ( not telling the Winchesters my real name, or anyone else)—magnetic beauty, occupying the knife’s edge of angelic and eerie. luminous skin, bright and expressive eyes, my hair thick and pitch black dark—i look like i’ve just stepped out of a wildest dream, or maybe a grave

this story finds both its beginning and its end at the crossroads—with a deal

my soul—inevitable currency—for ten fleeting years of bliss. freedom to wander, promised a family—the word, “family,” trembles on my tongue, foreign and brittle after years lost in the abyss of solitude. do I even remember how to say it? i seal the pact with a kiss, tasting brimstone and rot. the demon smiles, and in that sulfurous breath, the contract is etched into the marrow of my being

when the Winchester brothers roll into town to deal with a poltergeist, neither of them question the strange feeling in their chest that screams take her with you. they just do

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ “what the hell are you supposed to be?”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ “i’m Bunny !!”

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

BRAIN-TOUCHED BY THE SPIRIT.

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˚　.˚ ♱⋆. LUCK O’ THE BUNNY—in other words, i seem to possess an almost supernatural amount of luck. coincidences break in my favor constantly—drawers contain exactly what i need, elevators arrive just in time, and once, a ghost’s axe misses me by a hair. i insist it’s just good energy, but the boys are convinced i’m beyond charmed in some way they can’t even begin to untangle, let alone explain

“a head full of ghosts,” my Sunday school teacher used to murmur, a prophecy cloaked in piety. perhaps she saw the truth before i did—whispers of the unseen curling around my mind, spirits pressing their truths into my bones. the air trembles with unseen forces, and i feel them, pulsing through my veins, screaming in my ears. creatures lurking in the shadows and the unspoken intentions of souls crash into me, a cacophony of the damned that never sleeps—knowledge that guides the Winchesters’ hunts with eerie precision

SAMMY. ( antichrist, boyfriend, etc)

the vessel of Lucifer managing to be deeply in love with the only individual who manages to be more of a freak oddball than him—and still entirely human

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⋆♱ it takes time for Sam to warm up to me (necklace of teeth, roadside shoplifting tendencies, unusual passion for motel mattresses), and i don’t entirely blame him. maybe it’s the proximity we have to eachother—rescinded to the Impala backseat when we both piss off Dean, shoved into diner booths, sharing the same single room at the motel and sleeping four feet away from eachother.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⋆♱ perhaps it’s the way my eyes linger, drinking in every word as he unravels the threads of paranormal lore, or how I remain by his side deep into the night, sifting through ancient texts when his own resolve falters. or maybe it’s the unflinching gaze I offer him, never clouded by judgment, even when shadows of his past paint him as something other than human. unlike those who have called him a monster—father, brother—I see him, wholly. i’m not sure. regardless, he finds himself enamored by my curious gaze and my striking ability to always do the most off-putting thing available

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

PAST. ( a long, long time ago. )

i grew up in the kind of sleepy Catholic town where everything smelled like incense and old wood. i was the quiet girl at the back of Sunday school, too pretty to ignore but too odd to keep close. while the other children were memorizing Bible verses and coloring in pictures of saints, i would sit cross-legged and staring, chewing thoughtfully at the ends of my hair. i asked the kinds of questions that made the nuns cross themselves

“if i buried my teeth in the yard, would something grow there?”

.　　. 　 ˚　. my parents weren’t cruel, but they were tired. maybe you’d be tired, too, if you had a daughter who always seemed to be somewhere else, even when she was standing right in front of you. they tried, but i was like smoke slipping through their fingers. when i was sixteen, my mother died suddenly, and my father didn’t last much longer. grief, they said, but i didn’t believe that. i knew grief didn’t leave fingerprints on the inside of windows or whisper my name when i was falling asleep

after that, the house was mine. it was a big, empty place that groaned when the wind hit just right, and i filled it with things that made sense to me: bones i found in the woods, tarot cards i stole from a flea market, broken dolls, and the leftover echoes of prayers i couldn’t quite remember

i met the demon on an ordinary Tuesday. i’d been wandering barefoot down the pale stones of the road, not realizing it even crossed—red iPod in my ears, humming along to Fleetwood Mac—when i heard the voice. smooth as silk, it coiled around me like smoke, whispering things i didn’t want to hear but couldn’t exactly ignore

“pretty girl like you, all alone. doesn’t that bother you?”

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆♱ “why don’t you show me your face and i’ll tell you if you’re worth my time?”

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when he did appear, all fire and shadows and hungry teeth, i just tilted my head and smiled, unbothered. i wasn’t afraid of him. maybe because i’d been expecting something like him my whole life

he offered me power. i declined. he offered me money. i laughed. but when he promised me a way out—out of that house, a new family, nothing to keep me stuck to the town whose fear rattled my skull like an animal in a cage—i paused. “and where would I go?” i asked

“anywhere,” the demon said. “everywhere. you’d like the road, Bunny.”

i met the Winchesters not long after that

I’M A LOT OF THINGS. ( useless isn’t one of them )

 ˚　.˚ ♱⋆ “VIBE-CHECKING” ( intuition ) — though it’s a combination of psychic power and an ability to read things, i can sense the energy of a place or person immediately. while Sammy and Dean are often skeptical, i’m never wrong. if i say “this diner is cursed,” you bet your ass we’re eating elsewhere

˚　.˚ ♱⋆ “POTION” MAKING — crafting strange, makeshift remedies that should not work by any medical or magical standard, but just do. a mix of intuition, vibes, and my great-grandmother’s old herbal tendencies—need an antidote for a venomous bite or a charm to keep spirits at bay? i’ll whip something up with ingredients i foraged on the motel lawn, a packet of sugar, and maybe a splash of tequila

 ˚　.˚ ♱⋆ EVASIVE DRIVING. — i’m good behind the wheel (considering i only get practice on podunk roads when Dean gives me a shot), particularly when it comes to outrunning angry spirits or law enforcement. my style is horrifying, but i’ve managed to lose pursuit on multiple occasions, all while blasting Ethel Cain at full volume (i take full advantage of Dean’s ‘driver picks the music’ rule)

  ˚　.˚ ♱⋆ DREAM INTERPRETATION. — dreams are the key to everything. i’m scarily accurate when it comes to interpreting them, which unsettles Sammy, especially when i casually translate his nightmares into cryptic warnings

“you dreamed of a crow flying into a window? oh, Sammy, that means we’re probably dealing with death omens. exciting!”

　　　 　　a game i love: WHAT DOES BUNNY KEEP IN THE BACKSEAT WITH HER ??

a deck of tarot cards, Burnett’s whipped cream flavored vodka, rosary, a jumbo kit kat, leatherbound journal, snow globe i stole from Wyoming, lemon blueberry tart perfume, tiny scissors, jingling bag of soda caps ( you get the vibe, truly )

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˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔

[thegreatyin]

if she just want and asked happles "hey do u want to fuck" it would probably be down for it (if only to check everything it implanted was working and have the rare chance to test interesting chemicals in a bat human hybrid)

truly sad

honestly i'm not sure what the in-universe reason is for happles not fulfilling all of the scoundrel's horrible bat fantasies. she's doing literally everything short of offering herself up on a silver platter. maybe it thinks her pining is funny

[wollfling]

I've been having a hard time finishing illustrations lately and it has me panicking that I'm falling into another art block after being productive for a few months. It's genuinely been nerve-wracking 😞 I was able to get the monster illuminated manuscripts/ carnis script. stuff made though still. But its not what most of the people who follow me care about.. but them I'm like why should I care if I'm having fun... but also 😭 not sure I have the luxury to think that way..

[a-simple-spiders-oc-dump]

love procrastinating going to bed and then suddenly thinking about how I need to give at least one of my characters VERY strong opinions on different animal species RIGHT FUCKING NOW

[mamayan]

Yandere! Dark Fae King x Darling! Changeling (Part 2)

Part 1 (Here)

cw: NSFW • Sub! Reader • Dom! Yandere • Dark/Yandere Themes • Gore/Death • Monster Fucking • Fae • Kidnapping/Imprisonment • Dubcon • Fem! Darling • Dumbification • Praise • Overstimulation • Pheromone Drugging/Aphrodisiac • Manipulation • Breeding

A/N: Upon multiple requests and asks, I’ve decided to expand and make a part 2 for Avarice and Darling’s story. Enjoy♥️

“Freak!”

“You should be ashamed to be alive! When your own sister died, how dare you appear here!”

“Jinx.”

“I hope you die worse than she. Poor soul…”

You snapped out of it when he finally left again. The nightmares of your past seemingly haunting you as the death of so many rested on your shoulders.

Your fault. It was always your fault, wasn’t it? That’s what you were after all. A jinx.

Ava… he haunted you more than anything. His eyes so dull as of late but you couldn’t find it in yourself to assure him of forgiveness you did not want to give. You’d said horrible things to him though, when he’d confessed to killing your entire village due to your pressuring. He killed your family, or at least, the only family you knew. He killed the women and children, the old and innocent. Ava had no discretion when it came to slaughtering humans.

“Of course I love you! You’re my little sister, why are you asking me such a silly question so late?” Your human sister had looked so befuddled when you’d questioned her love for you. It must’ve been a rebellious phase, for she raised you and your younger human siblings much like a mother should’ve. The mother which birthed your siblings and the child swapped for you had lost herself to alcohol and gambling, her husband and your father too loyal to leave her despite the pit she began to dig for the entire family.

Your fault.

“Come eat. This sickness of her’s seems to be affecting us all. Father shall return with a fresh kill, I’ll make a stew. You like deer stew right?” You hated it but nodded anyway, your sister’s cooking so awful it even made your father’s eyes water but… “I do. I love it… and I love you too.” You’d replied, and it was the warmest moment you remember in that small wooden house.

You’d picked your nail beds bloody, eyes numbly staring at the broken skin and wondering why it wasn’t telling you the right answer. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t leave, even if you wanted to, and that was the problem. You didn’t want to leave Ava, because aside from your deceased sister, he was the closest living creature to your heart. He owned part of your soul now too, but you could feel him in you too. It wasn’t one sided, and while Ava certainly was full of cruelty, you knew him capable of care. He cared for you, his people and subjects, and his kingdom.

So why did he do it? Harm so many? Oddest of all, why did he abhor humans to much? He wouldn’t answer anything you asked, merely stating it was a necessity, that they needed to die, or be cleansed as he’d phrased it. You had loved a human dearly though, her memory still filling you with the familiar taste of warmth and overcooked venison. She was not a sister by blood but through life and trust.

Would Ava have killed her too?

You could only wonder endless dark halls of a castle you never saw an exit to. The windows revealing what appeared to be an entire kingdom below, built into a forest much like in tales of your childhood. This was a community, one which you now shared responsibility to help grow and flourish.

You didn’t feel like you were home though.

“Look at me.”

He’s impossible to ignore.

“I will force you if I must.”

You turn, giving the barest of glances upward, head forced to tilt completely back to meet his dark golden eyes. He, in all his immortal and frightening glory, looks tired. You admit it makes something within you ache to see it, but you aren’t ignorant to the fact that you look tired as well.

“You are not sorry at all… are you?” His lips press tight, eyes narrowing a fraction as he cocks his head, a few dark curls spilling like waves to follow the movement. He stalks closer like a predator, and even now, when you know he intends no physical harm to you, it raises your instincts to run. His towering form lowers to the floor where you’ve seated yourself, endless marble surrounding you in an empty ball room, the enormous glass window you’ve opened allowing fresh air in.

“Do you wish me to apologize for eliminating those vile creatures… or for upsetting you?” He cracks a rueful smile, teeth all sharp edges and eyes hardened by your distance. “If it is the latter little flower, then I sincerely am apologetic, I never wished to upset you.” You can tell he’s sincere, see it even, but something still nagged at you that wouldn’t leave.

“Ava…” his full attention is trained on you, “Why do you hate them? What did they do to you?”

His wings shift as he settles himself fully on the ground with you. An image unbefitting of a King yet also suiting him as he leans back on his palms and directs his gaze at the tall ceiling above.

You liked the sight of moonlight bathing him more than candle.

“I thought I loved a human once.”

You flinch, despite knowing it must’ve been so long ago, it stung nevertheless. He twitches, as if to move towards you before he stops himself and settles again, talons scraping along the floor as he continues.

“That human used my youth and ignorance against me and destroyed my entire existence for a time. I lost my position as a rightful heir and prince, lost my home and family, and lost my freedom. I stayed alone a very long time little Faery,” his gaze slides to you, glowing molten gold in rage as he remembers. “All alone, because I did the one thing no Faery is allowed to do, the most forbidden art which exists amongst our kind, all for one measly deceitful human.” His lips pull back in a grimace, even as you crawl a little closer.

He likes that your gaze is upon him again, filled with that familiar compassion and empathy he adores. He just loathes it is directed at him because of his disgusting past.

He watches as your tongue dips out to lick your lips, eyes filled with curiosity as you sit beside him, close enough to nearly touch yet not quite.

“What was it?”

“I granted them access to the Tree of Life. The tree which gave birth to all Faery kind.” His expression turns mocking, jaded as he seems to recall with perfect memory. “I had been ready to pluck the stars from the sky for that filthy ungrateful thing, and they dared to use me to gain eternal life by drinking from the tree’s fountain.”

He sees the look of astonishment and horror, clearly upset as realization dawns. It was said the Tree of Life would die if touched by human hands, destroying all of Faery kind should it occur. If it was true or not was unknown.

“…they touched it…?” You broke the dense silence first, curling your limbs around yourself as you feel the itch of your wings notify you of the awkward arch you’ve made with your spine.

Ava barks a dry laugh, dark amusement sparking in his eyes despite the serious story.

“Of course not little flower. My younger sister killed them before they could dare, becoming a hero for all Faery alike for protecting the race against a treacherous prince and a foul greedy human.”

He’s amuses himself with watching you through a small handheld mirror. Decorated in gold and jewels, the delicate ornate trinket has a spell cast to view his target at will.

You were asleep, tired from the seamstresses which had fussed so long over your dresses and you, face peaceful as you rest on the large expanse of his bed.

You sleep where he awoke this morning. Curled into the spot like you’re attempting to reclaim any warmth left over from his own slumber.

“You’re making quite a disgusting face, your majesty~” his eyes narrow as his mood sours in an instant.

“Leave witch.” He hisses, undisguised displeasure painting his sharp features as they scrunch in revolution.

“Make me faery,” a lithe feminine voice hisses back, his eyes finally lifting to acknowledge the vermillion haired woman which had appeared before him. “What has you making such a warm expression? I nearly lost my breakfast seeing it.” She glides more than walks, shamelessly spreading the floor length fur coat wrapped around her open, sitting on the arm chair of his throne.

“And your presence is going to make me gouge your eyes out and feed them to my hounds,” he flashes an equally unfriendly smile, the air becoming volatile towards the witch.

“Don’t act as if I wish to be here anymore than you wish it. You were the one who requested my potion.”

“Your potion not your presence.”

Dark eyes roll with a flutter, her red painted lip curling in disdain as she snaps her fingers, a small wooden box appearing in her palm.

“It cannot be delivered frivolously faery, or so you trust your servants so deeply?” He doesn’t answer.

She laughs, handing the box over with a smile as he pulls out a silver dagger and plunges it into his forearm.

Gold leaks from the wound, the witch quickly frowning and removing an empty vial to collect the liquid.

“Don’t be wasteful now, your blood is in high demand amongst my coven. It’s an incredibly binding agent.”

“Silence or I will bind your tongue for all eternity.”

“As if you could.” She cackles, vanished and gone before his talons could sink into her throat.

The box rests in his free hand. His distaste for the witches strong, but he admits they create the most potent and stable magical concoctions. They’re good in business too. He notes she didn’t allow a single drop of blood to go to waste before his wound sealed and closed.

“Drink for me, petal.”

You look lovely. Dressed lavishly in the finest silks and slowly becoming more confident in your true appearance. You no longer sit before the mirror and grimace, instead you play absently with your wings, more accepting as time continues.

He would rather just take you by force.

This method somewhat feeling beneath him, but in the end, he was already a wicked monster. What was this compared to his true nature?

You still curl or turn away when he touches you, less trusting of him now and though you should be, he finds it irritating. He wants to feel you melt against him again, blink your pretty eyes up at him and whisper his name with your kiss bitten lips.

You eye the delicate glass cup warily.

His clawed hand holding the pretty pink clear cup was nearly comical. He could tell by the quirk of your lip which you quickly tempered to avoid his detection. He caught it all though, still hoping he’s not forced to make you drink it. Though he doesn’t mind the act, pouring the drink in his mouth and laying his lips over your own to create a seal.

You take the cup gingerly with both hands, licking your lips as you bring it close to sniff.

“What is it…?” You look confused, nose scrunching up adorably, and he finds he wishes to kiss you there.

He’s forced to stay where he is though, aware you will wiggle and run if he touches you.

“Tea, made from milk, honey, and dried fruits.”

“It smells sweet…” you still eye him with mistrust, but you take a sip anyway, eyes lighting up as you take another. “It’s very good,” you’re not immune to bribery, “Thank you.”

For just a short moment, he feels his chest warm and a genuine smile grace his lips.

“You’re welcome, little flower. Thank you as well.”

“Huh?” You’ve finished the tea. “What for…?” His smile grows as you tilt your head in confusion.

“For being so foolish.”

You’re burning from the inside out. Tears and drool soaking your face and the bed as you cry out again.

“Why?” Digging your nails into the fabric, you find the texture appalling compared to usual, too rough and cold. “Ava…” you struggle to breathe, chest heaving as perspiration clings to you like a second skin. “It hurts…” you were fading into a blur of dizziness as your lower belly cramped again, more wetness coating your inner thighs.

“Shh…” he coos, ignoring your weak flinch as he slides his long tongue from your chin to your cheek, drinking your tears as his chest rumbles like a giant cat. “Do you need something sweet girl? Use your words.” He murmurs, groaning as he sees the amount of fluid you’ve leaked, your pussy swollen and glistening as you buck your hips and whine.

“Mean—!” He chuckles at your accusation, smiling shamelessly as he continues his chaste kisses against your skin.

“To you, petal? No, mean would be if I left you like this, no release for your poor little body.” He threatens, ignoring your silent pleas and body language for him to touch you more, keeping just enough distance to have you clawing at him to come back. “I’m nice though, I’m going to kindly fill your womb and make it all better.” It’s like a demon whispering in your ear as you writhe beneath him. His large frame cages you though, presses down on you as your bare chests connect and you can feel the thundering in his rib cage through your own. “Are you going to be good and let me breed you, little feary?”

You can’t think. Not when the promise of something hot and big going inside you, stretching you out like your body is begging for now. You nod, mind already gone as your clouded eyes connect with his own. You look high, pupils blown as he brings two fingers to his lips, opening his mouth and breaking off two of his sharp claws to blunt them.

“Spread your legs.” You obey, pliant body opening at his commands as he uses his fingers to dig into your slick gooey hole. He delights in your moans and reactions, hips moving for more friction as he fucks your tight entrance loose enough to take his cock inside you. “That’s it, petal, you don’t need to think anymore. Let go for me,” he murmurs, kissing you gently, tongue melting into your mouth while he digs his fingers up and rubs until you’re coming around his digits.

He pulls them out slowly, eyes drifting down to catch the sticky wet mess you’ve made and the jump of his cock in response. He laughs, deeply to his core as he brings them to his lips and lets you watch him clean them, blissed out expression marred with tears from pleasure and pain.

“You’re mine. For eternity, you will be always be mine.” His eyes are wild, something frightening entering them as he laughs, face so pleased and enamored you feel the urgent sense to crawl away from him, to run. “There is no escaping me. No where you can go that I won’t find you.” You feel too weak and sluggish to move, to even fight back, as his dark hand wraps around your neck, magic and gold swimming beneath his flesh. He feels warm, hotter than even you and your feverish mind. “I am no longer a patient a male, no longer content to wait and watch for results. You deny me, your mate, for humans which wanted to sacrifice you to a false deity, planned to rape and defile you,” he’s squeezing tighter, not cutting off air but blood flow instead as your mind becomes fluffy and unfocused. He speaks directly into your ear, the pointed tip curling down as he settles himself between your thighs. “They wanted to burn you, did you know? They called you a jinx, hated you, only wished you harm and destruction in the most vile and painful ways… and yet you still choose them?” He looks mad, smile filled with malicious intent and eyes glittering like jewels.

You speak with what little focus you have left…

“My sister…loved me.”

His smile falls, eyes narrowing in displeasure.

“Always…she loved me.”

He shakes his head, disapproval clear. “You think she loved you. Humans aren’t capable of love, my sweet flower.”

“You’re wrong…” he halts, watching as you weakly claw at his hold on your neck. “She loved me..! I know she did! You’re wrong! Take it back!” You cough as he releases your throat completely, eyes wide as you look at him with burning resentment even so deep under the influence of an aphrodisiac.

“I love you, but you,” you look filled with hurt, “you don’t love me.”

He’s shocked into silence as you seethe beneath him, face firm and eyes resolute as you declare his feelings for you.

He snarls, snapping his teeth at you, rage filling him as his wings spread out and magic and malice fill the air.

“I am not afraid to punish you, petal. I will not tolerate disrespect—,”

“Neither will I!” Even in tears, shaking as you are, he shifts back, the overwhelming force of your emotions startling him. “You treat me as if I am not worthy of respect, as if I’m not worthy to be listened to. You aren’t—,” you heave for air, struggling to draw in enough oxygen as you whirl on him, “—asking me. For anything. You just take…”

He’s silent, body frozen and tense as he watches you.

“Was it all a lie… when you said you’d be my friend? I thought faery couldn’t lie,” you’re in tears once more, sorrow endlessly streaming down your cheeks.

“No, don’t cry like that,” he feels oddly sick seeing you so upset like this. His frame once more curling around you, but to simply wrap you in the blanket and bring you to his chest. “We are friends, mates, I do not lie.” He whispers, cradling your body to his chest, trying to urge you to look at him.

“Friends don’t sneak away and do things that they know I wouldn’t like,” you calm after a while, swollen tear streaked face turned into his chest while he pets your hair.

He knows it must be painful, still under the effects of the drug he’d given you. His touch helping ease some of the heat.

“Okay. Okay, I was wrong, I…,” his teeth bare as he forces it past his lips, “I apologize…for not respecting your wishes…,” it makes him want to tear one of his hearts out and crush it. His hatred for humans no less despite his apology.

You look hopeful though, eyes returning some of the light he adores within you.

He’ll apologize everyday if he’s allowed to see that.

“Oh gods…!”

He’s trying to kill you. He must be.

You can’t struggle away though, no escape in sight, and true to his word Ava has filled your womb over and over again. You’re delirious on the pleasure, the second his heavy cock had entered you the earlier burning pain subsided into mind numbing euphoria. Each powerful snap of his hips has your body jolting upward, one large palm wrapped around your neck keeping you anchored. You could feel every vein and inch searing into you, eyes going in and out of focus on him face as he heaves for air and fucks you into another orgasm.

“Please, more, I need more—!” You’re reduced to a tearful mess, wantonly begging for his seed as he grimaces and fills you up again, balls drawing up tight as your cunt ripples around his length.

His face is ruined, eyes more red than gold as his pupils remain blown out, thick lashes holding a small cluster of tears as he licks his lips and continues his ravenous pace inside you. His hair clings to his face and horns, black curls damp with sweat and your cum, taking on a nearly purple hue. He wears a delirious expression like you, drugged out into oblivion as you both pant and moan as the heat devours you.

He’d felt badly for drugging you, especially as you writhed and cried in pain. His solution had not been to find the witch he’d bought the elixir from though.

He’d simply drank the remaining fluid while smiling mischievously.

“Let’s just fall into complete depravity petal,” he’d said, before your world went in and out of darkness. Only the scent of sugar and spices dominated your brain, and the feeling of fullness and completion each time he spilled his load within you.

“Are you ready for another sweet faery?” He knew you couldn’t answer, knew that words were too far away for your cotton filled mind to conjure. He asks anyway, drawing your hips off the bed, leaving your upper body limp on the soaked silks while he bounces you on and off his cock. “I’ve always known it is hard for Fae to conceive.” He speaks with a slur, as if it is liquor intoxicating him and not a lustful spell. He laughs as you cum around him, moan so breathy it appears like a silent scream as your back arches higher. “I have a good feeling it will not apply to us.” He nods, slamming down to the hilt as he collapses on you while he comes too, nose buried in your collar bone as he humps out his remaining seed and presses deep to ensure it stays.

“I think your little cunt likes being bred, gripping me so tightly so I can’t leave it,” he huffs, breathing labored as he sees you’ve lost consciousness again.

“Looks who’s mean now…” he murmurs tiredly, but his smile is fresh as he licks up your sweat and tears, cock already hardening again as blood swims in his ears like a river.

“I can’t anymore—!” It’s a squeal and a whine mixed, as Ava grunts against your throat.

“Can’t what, petal?” He asks rhetorically, humming as he slowly rolls your hardened nipple between two clawed fingers. His free hand between your legs, messily rubbing your clit as he works his cock inside you. His thrusts are no longer as violent or heavy as they were two days prior when he’d taken the drug, but his body still howled to press you flat and fill you up. To mark his mate up for all to see.

You look divine to him, too weary to even bite him anymore, nails broken from scratching at his back and arms when he’d blacked out and taken you too roughly. Even still, you looked beautiful, skin less sweat soaked and more simply damp, his care to ensure you drank water paying off in between rounds of riding him.

“I think your cunt has finally relaxed,” he teases, enjoying the sloppy squelching which echoes as he drives into you, your pussy indeed finally accepting it’s fate to be subjected to his cock for eternity. “Your womb has dropped too,” his hand stops torturing your clit to press on your lower belly, purring as you weakly complain.

“Let me rest…”

“No. I took the drug later than you, so it’s still in effect for me.” He chuckles, merrily still using your exhausted body. “Just a little more sweet girl, be good for me,” he moans, head falling back as his eyes close in bliss, cock twitching once again to fill you up.

“I truly am…with child?” His eyes are as wide as your own, cradling you close away from the vermillion haired woman who sneers at Ava.

Rolling her eyes, she nods, fingers pressed to her temples as if her mind is aching.

“Yes. You are with child, as I’ve confirmed four times already. Congratulations little Queen, you managed to love the unlovable.”

“Watch your tone and words witch,”

“My race is not an insult you foul monster—!”

They halt as you giggle, features radiant as you smile and hold your hands over your belly.

“A baby!” Ava is stricken at your delight, throat closing as something sweet tickles him inside. Your floral scent warmer these days, his keen hearing picking up on the second beating of a heart quickly.

“Yes,” he nods, like a love sick dog he grins and answers each time your repeat it in amazement.

The witch truly feels revolted to her core, but wordlessly leaves a book for new faery parents. Leaving without thanks as the happy family gushes over the good news.

As if the disgusting King didn’t know how powerful an aphrodisiac and fertility drug he used on his mate was.

She shrugs, teleporting away to her coven to return to work, minutely pitying the poor faery captured by the dark Fae.

They’re the only fae that can lie after all.

Dividers/@cafekistune

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Can I please have an order of time traveling Stiles but with a twist.

Stiles is in the present time, and is a spark training after Deaton after his mother died and he never knew his father . One night in the clinic he gets attacked and so he runs the nemeton and begs it to take him somewhere safe.

It boots him years in the past, to the Hale dynasty right in the middle of Derek Hale bride choosing ceremony.

Derek is absolutely confused but takes this as a sign from the goddess that this man is to be his, and to be honest he doesn’t want to marry any of the girls brought before him. Peter is absolutely ecstatic to have a spark in the family. Stiles is so confused to see his favourite history figure standing over him. Stiles gets adopted by captain of the guard Stilinski, whom he shares a scary similar likeness with. 

Cue Derek trying to woo a very confused stiles with a language barrier. Honestly stiles is such a little shit whenever anyone his pissing him off he switches from English (which everyone is slowly picking up on) to polish. (Jokes on Derek, stiles has been dying to fuck him since he found his picture in a history book)

And stiles is trying to save Derek from his untimely and tragic death. The Nemeton that sent him back is the same one on Hale lands and is cheering him on. Everyone is in awe of the mythical figure who can talk and lecture the deity tree.

Unfortunately for Derek because stiles is not officially his others are allowed to approach him. They get him gifts and things so Derek being Derek, goes out and hunts a mythical beast and brings it to stiles. Stiles freak the fuck out (in happiness) because this mythical creature is super useful in potions.

I would also like a side of strong menace stiles, Wolfy and possessive Derek. Just overall everyone is absolutely in love and impressed by stiles thanks. maybe omegaverse??

Now I can’t decide if they are soulmate separated by time, or if the nemeton really liked the Hales and wanted a happier ending and when it saw stiles was like ooh freebie, or the nemeton was bored and was like “this would be funny”

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.2) NSFW

W/C: 3.2k #NSFW, THEY FUCKIN', bottom!reader, top!sukuna, mild yuuji/reader, yuuji and gang are v early 20s, heian sukuna, male reader, typical kitsune shapeshifting, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, sukuna ignores feelings through the force of sheer willpower, unhealthy relationships, power imbalance, dubcon elements, blood as lube (SORRY), Sukuna unhinged horknee, ABO elements

A/N: I wanted to make this include more parts, but I am so flabbergasted and in awe of the response to this fic that I feel the need to feed y'all feral creatures LMAO. JKJK but 👀 Thank you for all the feedback and support! It really gives me the motivation to continue writing and to interact with the JJK community. I'm having a lot of fun!

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah

“What the fuck is this?” Sukuna drawled, an intense fury simmering through his being. His gaze couldn't tear free from you, not even to size up the blindfolded weirdo watching him intently. 

He shattered the coffin, freeing you from the makeshift cursed bath some freak had forced you into. He smoothed damp hair from your sickly face and searched for sparks of life somewhere in the cold stillness that'd overtaken you. And there was something. He found it, a little glimmer of vitality in the smallest, shakiest inhale. 

“Good,” he praised, brushing your hair back more and more to get a better look at your face. You looked like the frail little thing he saved all those decades ago.

“You know,” Gojo interrupted, but Sukuna paid him no mind, “If I didn't know any better, I'd think you actually cared about that kitsune.” 

“Then you don't know what this is,” Sukuna decided blandly. “Figures.” Kenjaku kept him off the record, huh? Guess that's a bonus.

“Oh? Do you wanna enlighten me before Yuuji comes back?” Gojo smiled, as if he really expected Sukuna to play nice and be honest with him. “Come on, come on, it's your chance to be vulnerable~” 

“Tch. Pretty damn sure the fox'll be the one to tell you.” His hand smoothed over your stomach and rubbed slow, gentle circles against your skin as reverse technique sought to bring you all back to him. “He yaps about as much as your insufferable ass does. Granted, he talks a lot nicer.” 

“Wow, rude.” Gojo sighed and clapped twice as if clapping on a light. “Okay! I've had enough bullying. Yuuji–” 

“Brat, don't you fucking dare–” 

Yuuji inhaled sharply. He blinked owlishly at your calmed expression, your eyes now closed and breathing now steadied thanks to Sukuna's aid. 

Aid. That wasn't something the king did. 

“Sensei,” Yuuji managed, voice quivering under the weight of memories’ emotion. “Can you fix this?”

Somehow, you were stuck in the throes of flirtation with the malevolent king of curses. 

“It may be courtship,” Uraume guessed, soft smile brightening their cold exterior. 

(They'd been smiling more recently, actually, ever since you completed that overcoat and presented it to them. Nary a day went by when they did not don the sentimental garb.)

But you weren't so sure; the event of courtship was serious business across all lucid creatures. Animals and creatures of primal existence sought out partners with favorable genes and strong constitution, whereas humans and the like yearned for merit or love in their coupling. You didn't quite grasp the way humans thought. Not yet. 

Well, save for flirting. You decided it was a sort of pre-courtship where nothing became serious and nothing was on the line, but frivolous touches and haughty words of praise ran rampant when those concerned crossed paths. 

Much like today.

(Much like the days before and after.)

You walked along the stone-paved path most mornings, lost in thoughts and mumbling to yourself bits and pieces of poems. Most were unfinished, but in their own time, verses would find one another and complete the incomplete. 

A groggy yawn hummed from the palace entrance. And moments later, Ryoumen Sukuna fell into step with you, grumbling and mumbling complaints about the nippy Spring morning while he tucked his arms away into his sleeves. 

He followed you, idly looking around the expansive space you'd helped curate and maintain when you weren't busying yourself with the girls or decorating clothing. The gardens weren't a mess before, not at all, but now they had a certain taste–trees and flowers were planted with specificity, stones were moved, paths reworked. You took the outside over completely. The king didn't mind. 

“Sukuna-sama,” you said, voice melting in kind with the morning frost. “I'll need to leave for a short while.” 

Sukuna quirked a brow and looked at you. You gazed upon the large, thick koi flashing their beautiful scales and ornate patterns of orange and white as they swam and followed you. Tch. How come even the fish were drawn to you? 

“And how do you think you'll accomplish that?” Sukuna tossed a rock into the koi pond, making the fish scatter. “Getting away from me isn't something you can do.”

You huffed and looked at him. “I understand. I simply seek your permission.” 

“Denied.”

“Ah.” You deadpanned. “Why?”

“You're mine; I decide where you go, how you breathe, if you eat. Or are you forgetting that?” 

You sighed and let your ears droop sadly with your tails. “Surely you jest.” 

“Are you laughing?”

You whined like a sad, sad street pup before cozying up to him, slipping your hands up his stomach and chest like you were supposed to. “Please?” 

“No.” 

You chittered and pressed your face against him, but didn't protest and complain much more. 

Sukuna’s thoughts whirled. The show was amusing, sure, but you didn't do anything without reason, especially when it had to do with breaking character and acting out like this out of–

Oh? 

Sukuna leaned down and sniffed you, searching for the intriguing coil of flowery citrus he nearly missed on the warming breeze. It was so, so faint, but decadent and alluring in a way that made the master of toxins cautious–most poisons tasted sweet, after all. 

You pulled your head back, shrinking down the slightest bit with your ears flattened against your skull. Your eyes, wide as a full moon, stared up at him, expectant. The touch of your hands on him never left, though.

“Brassavola nadosa.” Sukuna tilted his head. “You smell like it.” 

You blinked curiously, relaxing. “Is that so?” 

We don't have that orchid in the garden. Sukuna hummed and lifted a lock of your hair, catching another weak waft of the flower's faint scent. 

It's coming from him, then. Hm. 

“Tell me again why you want to leave the palace?” Sukuna asked on a hunch.

And that hunch doubled down when you fidgeted with the cloth of his haori and looked aside. 

“I wish to bear children," you admitted, shy and quiet. "To try, at the very least. Perhaps find a mate, too.” 

Children. You wanted children. After everything those sorcerers put you through for who knows how many years, you still wanted to mother a runt of your own. And you were willing to run off into the wild to, what, let some random man knock you up? Fill you with seed of unknown origin, unknown value, unknown potential?

Sukuna's ego flared. He leaned down to you, tilting your chin up to make you look him in the eyes regardless how small you felt in that moment. He deserved to witness you. You deserved to witness him. 

“You're not leaving,” he breathed, and he swore he could hear your heart break. “If you want a brat, you'll get a brat–only if you stay here 'n give up on those shitty thoughts of finding a sire out there.”

Your eyes scanned his face, tracing over serious lines and honest creases. Clearly, you searched for an answer–

“How?” 

–one that Sukuna didn’t have. Or maybe he did. Perhaps he just couldn't find the words for it. 

He scoffed and ruffled up your hair, unable to answer you. “You're not leaving. Not unless I say so.” 

The first time he let you go, he left scars. 

He found you in your chambers come early evening. Your tails swished and flicked as you sat amidst a nest of his robes and the missing linens from his chambers while you futzed over the embroidery of another haori, this time adorning the plain thing with the darkest scarlet one could find. Sukuna could already guess why. 

Your being burns as wildfires do. Lively. Emphatically. Devouring more and more so long as the earth lets you. Yet where you do not lay ruin, you grant warmth and light in a divine way. Wildfires are not such horrible things if one stays a respectable ways away. 

Your poetic nonsense irritated him to no end, but he fell enamored all the same; you spoke to honor him with every utterance of his name. You didn't try to kiss his feet nor did you bask him in compliments–you only spoke into existence that which hummed through your mind, unprovoked. It just so happened to be everything Sukuna liked to hear. 

So when he found you secluded away, beckoning so sweetly with intoxicating scents of citrus and gardenia, what choice did he have but to lay claim, to give you the brat you so sorely yearned for?  

You sensed him. Your gaze flicked to him, stoic and unmoved as ever, as the energy in the room built into suffocating silence, something like tectonic plates caught in deadlock, holding their disastrous energy, waiting for the right moment to devastate the world with a single, cataclysmic shift.

And of course, it was the impatient predator that moved first, setting a catastrophe into motion. 

The hours blurred together. 

Every minute of the chase was thrilling, invigorating, surprising–you were filled with tricks and traps, never slowing down for a second to think or doubt as the beast of a sorcerer pursued you through his palace, through the city below, and now into the looming forest in the mountains. 

Admittedly, he'd gotten carried away. He lost himself in the rush of it all, the adrenaline and pure, destructive desire pushed his self-control into unraveling just the slightest bit; honest attacks tore through space and time, hoping to maim and cripple you if they were to hit. And, honestly, the way you avoided his attempts to strike you down enthralled him as much as it enraged him–he was seconds away from unleashing his domain until a less-than-satisfying ripple of cursed energy tore across your thigh and put you down.

It was then, walking up to you, to his prey, that Sukuna remembered you weren't a sorcerer. Most would be able to stand and walk it off, maybe even heal with reverse technique, but you could only grasp at your weeping wound and grimace. Because you were not a sorcerer, you were a kitsune: a trickster, a creature full of mischief and void of cursed energy. 

Yokai. Not a human. Not a curse. Not like the rest of the boring souls wandering his earth. 

Sukuna pinned you the second you tried to make a break for it. Fangs and claws gnashed and tore into him while his hands strained to keep you down and rip those damn clothes free from your burning skin. 

Mating's never a pretty thing when it comes to nature. Humans like you made it something more.

Sukuna clasped a hand over your mouth and forced his weight onto you, ripping reedy yowls from your core as you twisted and turned, primal mind urging you to run, run, run, don't make this easy, make him prove his worth–

Rip.

Ribbons of what were once your robes fluttered to the ground, useless and unsalvageable. They were plain black, so unlike what you usually wore. You wouldn't miss them. 

“Make this as difficult as you want, pet,” Sukuna whispered as he loomed over you. His hand slid from your mouth to your throat when you stilled.  

“You know how this ends.” 

His pants were pulled down while another hand wiped slippery blood against your pliant entrance–and that was the only warning you got before he pushed into you. 

Where you should have screamed, you instead sighed. Your back arched off the ground like a work of art. Two hands gave up on holding you down in favour of gripping your waist and hips, pulling you closer to him, forcing you flush against his body. 

He noticed it then: a litany of old scars and discoloured marks shining against your skin. Marks left by those who did not deserve to taste such a delicacy. 

Unsightly.

Blood painted the grass. Cleaves and slashes ate away at those tainted scars, painting over the ugliness left hidden for too long–now, his marks would decorate you. Now, those hidden scars would mean something. They’d mean everything. 

Yet Sukuna's selfish maiming wasn't fitting the bill, and your antsy-ness was proof of it. You tried for the last time to pull from him, but his grip tightened around your throat. You gazed at him, then, eyes so wide and hungry, eager to fight or fuck–whichever came first. 

He braced over you and nearly winced as he dragged out of your suffocating heat. A sharp snap back inside loosened you, the glide of blood and slick aiding him. 

“I'll take you the way you need it,” he drawled as he built the pace quickly, already feeling his own obsession and excitement reverberating through his body, filling every fibre of muscle with electricity.

“Then,” he growled, leaning closer to your face. “I'll fuck you the way you want it.”

“More,” you sighed, digging your nails into the pillow you had your face buried in while the beast fucked you from behind. Sukuna groaned in compliance and lanced into your guts deeper, harder, faster than before–you were the only one that could handle the brutal way he let loose, and he was more than willing to indulge in that privilege. 

The hands all over you rose to the occasion, too; one had your tails fisted in his ruthless grasp, rudely holding you still and pulling you back against his hips; another rested on the curve of your ass, only moving to give a sharp slap or to knead your soft, perfect skin; the last two held your hips in a crushing force, his calloused fingers digging into your plush sides and sharp hip bones like you might disappear at any second. 

A sharp, sweet whine signaled the beginning of the end, as did the restless fidgeting and shifting in the king's grasp. Seeing you, a poised, powerful, mischievous being, come undone beneath him came to be one of Sukuna’s favourite sights, especially knowing it could only be because of him--only him. 

He leaned over you, his heavy chest pressing into your back as one hand released your waist in favour of fisting in your hair and tugging your head back and out of the futon you so desperately clung to. 

“Ah-ah,” he scolded breathily. “No hiding.” It was a familiar sentiment, one he had no problem reminding you of now and again. You had a horrible habit of trying to vanish when overwhelmed, after all. 

“Terrible beast,” you snapped back, scoffing indignantly when the deep bassy laugh of the man rolled through your body. “Horrible.” 

“You love it,” Sukuna growled back, grinning through every word. 

Something about it clearly struck a chord with you, judging by how fast you choked on your voice and came undone, legs trembling and body tightening around the too-big intrusion. The king groaned and bit at your neck, licking whatever blood beaded at the surface in between rushed, hushed words of praise for you and your efforts–most, if they heard the things he said, would call it out of character for the beast. Most didn't get to see beyond his raw power and crippling cruelty, however. 

Sukuna grunted and spilled inside you, pulling you back by your hair, hips and tail to ensure he forced every bit of his offerings deep into your core. Your body rocked and twitched against his, accepting all he had to offer you at the end of yet another coupling, before he let go of your locks and let you collapse face-first into the futon. 

He pulled out slowly, watching as every inch slipped from your abused hole before popping free and uncorking a dribble of whiteness from inside. He tutted and scooped it up with two fingers before stuffing it back in. 

“Oi, oi, are you even trying to keep it in?” He teased, smirking as you huffed. 

“You've exhausted me. I have no energy to attempt the impossible,” you lamented, nuzzling your nose further into the soft sheets smelling of cedar and fresh blooms–something so uniquely Sukuna. 

Your king sighed and gave your ass a firm few pats. “Guess I'll have to spoil you even more.” He settled onto his back and easily pulled you onto him, yanking you up to straddle his waist right where that second mouth laid open and eager to taste you. 

“This is uncouth,” you sighed. But you rocked back against the thick, heavy tongue pressing into your pliant heat, licking deep into you with a mind and hunger of its own. 

“Seems couth enough for you,” he commented, watching you ride his centre with rapt attention. “Little harlot's getting off on this, hey? Such a needy little brat.” 

His hands smoothed up and down your legs and sides as you shamelessly chased a second high. Your hands clasped over his as he took you into his hand and stroked you back to ample stiffness, the soreness of too many rounds of fucking making you far too sensitive to touch. 

“S-Sukuna-sama,” you stammered. “I can't–”

Sukuna's head tilted with a pleased smirk. “Ho? I thought you wanted to bear children? Are my offerings not enough for you?” 

You scrunched your face up into something of a prissy glare, but the shine clinging to your lashes and the shuddering of your body against his betrayed your crumbling demeanor. Of course, he was impressed with how his fox was fairing considering everything he put you through. 

He maneuvered you onto your back, grinning as you growled and weakly struggled against him. You looked perfect–stomach swollen, hair fanned out behind you, eyes teary but unable to tear away from the creature that’d tormented you for hours upon hours with no desire to give you a break. 

“Greedy god,” Sukuna lamented. One hand came to rest on your bruised neck again, fitting around so perfectly. “Nothing’s ever fucking good enough for you.” 

“You are.” 

That gave Sukuna pause. He stared down at you, all eyes looking over you with rapt attention as he tried to think. Tried to understand. Tried to parse those words and uncover what exactly you tried to convey. 

But it didn't click. 

“Tch. You're lucky I'm a generous god,” he scolded, releasing you from your torment in favour of collapsing down beside you for some much-needed rest. Not only did your beautiful body wear him out (not that he'd admit it), but your whimsical words wore his sanity thin. The worst part was you didn't even intend to damage him so. 

“I am truly honoured to merely be in your presence,” Your voice, light and dreamy as petals fluttering, laughed, and Sukuna's soul did something odd. 

He stared at the ceiling as you shuffled beside him, quickly returning to his side, donned in one of his haori and determined to make a comfortable nest of blankets and clothes around you both for the rest of the night–ah, morning? Huh. What an ordeal. 

You curled up next to him, shoving your back firmly against his side the way you often did when resting as a fox, and Sukuna huffed. 

“Turn to me,” he commanded, and you obeyed. 

He, too, turned to face you to envelope your lithe form with invincible arms and divine protection. Your soft purrs rolled through him, settling his wild spirit into a lazy tempo of an early morning stroll through a garden filled with one sort of white orchid: 

Brassavola nadosa. “Lady of the Night.” Your calling card. Your divine essence.

"Brassavola nodosa (Lady of the Night) is a medium-sized epiphytic or lithophytic orchid species boasting extremely fragrant flowers throughout the year. The blossoms, 4 in. across (10 cm), emit a citrus fragrance at night. Each flower features long, slender, pale green or creamy-white sepals and petals and a large, heart-shaped lip sometimes adorned with purple or dark red spotting." - gardenia.net

[hadesrise]

## not like any other !!

summary──── harry noticed you’re not like any other slytherin

pairings──── harry james potter x male reader

warnings──── fluff, mutual pining, foul language, reader being an adorable slytherin, touch-deprived harry, just the chosen one thirsting over reader lmao, mentions of making out, soft!slytherin reader, pet names ( darling, love )

author’s note──── rewatching harry potter made me recall the time when i used to fantasize about two persons from supposedly rival houses falling for each other and saying “fuck it” to their rivalry before making out. yes, it's typical, but i like it just the way it is.

Of all the houses in Hogwarts, it’s well known that Slytherin is the most disliked one due to their personality that doesn’t seem to include kindness regardless of how others treat them. This might have only been a stereotype that students from other houses pushed on Slytherin, but they had a very reasonable excuse for thinking of them that way because of a particular blonde haired snake and his goons that terrorise anyone and everyone they come across. Not only that, but most people from Slytherin are unpleasant to say the least and Harry can only name a few who aren’t, like Professor Slughorn for example.

So, understandably, Harry thought you’re going to be as unpleasant as other Slytherins too after Hermione accidentally bumped into you and dropped her books to scatter all over the ground. The Golden trio were walking down the hallway leading towards Hagrid’s hut, talking to one another about how Professor Trelawney freaked out again today at Divination, with Hermione carrying books more heavier than usual (the two boys offered to carry them but she refused), before they turned a corner and she collided on a rather hard chest.

She was going to apologise, but her eyes — in sync with Harry’s and Ron’s — landed on the green colored tie with silver stripes, and the blood immediately drained from her face. It’s not like she can’t defend herself, considering she sucker punched Malfoy on the third year, but dealing with a bunch of snakes can be really exhausting sometimes and frankly, she isn’t in the mood to fight with them today.

Without a word, Hermione crouches down to pick up her books. Much to their surprise, the Slytherin knelt down to help her gather the heavier and thicker books Ron and Harry were about to pick up.

When they finally made an effort to look at the unusual Slytherin Hermione bumped into, Harry was surprised to see a very good looking and attractive boy with (h/c) hair and (e/c) eyes that seemed to spark under the light. Despite the books being heavy, you carried it easily as if they have the weight of a feather, placing another book on top of them — Harry figured you were reading it before the disaster struck.

“Are these books from Hagrid?”

The Chosen One felt his stomach fill with butterflies and heart suddenly beat rapidly at the sound of your soothing voice.

He was so used to Slytherins having that obnoxiously annoying voice, where he doesn’t know whether to cover his ears or rip them away from the sides of his head. But your voice was, even with a tone deeper than average, smooth and gentle. There was no hint of venom, distaste, unpleasantness, or despise. Just curiosity and interest. Harry also noticed you called Hagrid by his name rather than the awful big oaf other Slytherins call him all the time.

“Oh, er — Yes.” It took a while for Hermione to overcome the surprise and provide an answer.

“Interesting,” You hummed quietly. “I should drop by Hagrid and burrow some of his books too. He must have the book of Ancient Magical Creatures.” Muttering to yourself, the Golden trio couldn’t help but crack a smile when you seem to forget for a split second that you weren’t alone.

Gathering some courage, Harry decides to break your little bubble by hesitantly speaking. “Er — excuse me?”

“Yes?” You turn to look and catch his emerald eyes.

“You can come with us if you want. We don’t mind.”

A tiny bit of smile forms on your lips, almost unnoticeable. “With pleasure. Though, I don’t suppose it’s alright for Gryffindors to walk around with a Slytherin.” You glanced around, “Some of the people from your house doesn’t tolerate their fellow Gryffindors hanging out with the rival house.”

“I think you’re alright,” Ron says reluctantly.

“If you say so.” Amusement flashes across your eyes. “Also, I’ll carry these books instead.” You didn’t let Hermione protest as you began to walk nonchalantly towards Hagrid’s hut with a slight delay to your steps; Harry figured you were purposely walking slower than your normal pace so it would be easy to walk with your shoulders lining with theirs.

You introduced yourself to them after successfully burrowing a book from Hagrid that you were searching for.

Ever since then, Harry would find himself scanning every classroom he’s in to look for you, taking mental notes of the similar classes you have together, and if you’re nowhere to be seen, he would just attempt to at least catch a glimpse of you in the Great Hall by the Slytherin table. Sometimes, when he’s fortunate enough, your eyes would meet his across the hall and you would give him the faintest of smile before returning to your meal. Other times, when the both of you are free, you would talk with each other for a while until the next class comes.

Spending his time with you made Harry notice things — such as how you’re mostly quiet, which isn’t very common in Slytherin; their loud voices being very distinguishable in the Great Hall explains that. You’re also a bit of a bookworm as he often sees you carrying or reading them around, it made him wonder why you weren’t placed in Ravenclaw, but he suppose being interested in books doesn’t automatically make someone a Ravenclaw. He also noticed the way your facial expression rarely shows rapid or strong emotions, mostly expressing boredom to anyone and anything around you, if not, your face just remains emotionless with a what Harry knew was called resting bitch face. Though, your wonderful eyes do spark seemingly brighter when you’re with him.

Another brilliant thing is finding out you don’t tolerate any of Malfoy’s bullshit.

You seem to disagree with everything the blonde says, which leads to Malfoy spitting some nasty insults in attempt to get under your skin, only to cower away when you raise a brow at him paired with deadly calm expression, which is much scarier than anything in Harry’s opinion. You were definitely not like any other Slytherin he’s ever met.

“Ron, getting a detention at potions isn’t a good reason to set Professor Snape’s office on fire!” Hermione hissed.

“But ‘ermione, ‘e’s horrible!” Retorts Ron and turns to his best friend to plead, “Back me up ‘ere, mate!”

However, he doesn’t receive a response as Harry was too busy ogling at a particular someone by the Slytherin’s table, his hand not moving from the parchment that began to be soaked in black ink due to his quill being pressed on it. Ron and Hermione looked at each other questioningly and followed Harry’s gaze, their eyes landing on you eating quietly while ignoring the chaos members from your house were bringing. You almost looked peaceful despite surrounded by loud chattering, laughter, and the clinks of utensils against the plate.

Your patience isn’t high; you often get annoyed easily, but the way you’re unbothered no matter what’s happening around you made it seem like your patience was limitless.

Hermione rolled her eyes after realising Harry was waiting for you to notice and rolls up the parchment she had before whacking the back of his head with it, successfully snapping him out of his daydream. “What do you think’s going to happen if you just stare at him?”

The Chosen One cleared his throat, taking a glance at you and quickly returning it to his best friends. “What am I supposed to do then? I can’t just walk up to him in front of other Slytherins.”

“I’d rather see you do anything than ogle at him everyday and act like an idiot.” She sighs exasperatedly.

For a boy who survived the Killing Curse and Voldemort’s multiple serious death threats, he was one hell of an annoying dork when it comes to love. He was painfully obvious with his growing crush towards you, even other Gryffindors had begun to suspect it, yet haven’t done anything to change the relationship you two have — sure, it can be called friendship, but Hermione and almost all of their friends could agree it is more than that. They couldn’t honestly contain their frustration at Harry being content with just this.

“It’s no use, ‘ermione.” Ron whispered when Harry went back to ogling at you. “He says he’s not going to do anything about it unless he’s sure there’s a chance.”

Sighing, the bushy haired girl shakes her head and slumped on her seat defeatedly.

How long do they have to deal with a lovesick Harry?

Searching around the school grounds, Harry finally found you reading by the Black Lake, not caring that your robe might get dirty as you sat on the ground and read another book. It was a windy day that sent calm energy throughout your body, the rustling of leaves and the sound of lake soothing you more than usual, allowing you to focus more on the context of your book. You loved the silence where no voices or other noises can be heard, just the sound of nature slipping into your ears.

Harry slowly approached as to not startle you, but felt himself relax after you pay him no mind and sat down beside where you are. The sky seems brighter than he remembers, with only small particles of cloud littered all around.

“Are you feeling well?” You asked without looking up from your book, and Harry hugs his knees to his chest, watching the wind cause waves of water on the lake.

“Better now that I found you.” The seemingly flirtatious sentence was uttered in complete sincerity and seriousness that even Harry himself didn’t expect. The tip of his ears turned bright red in increasing embarrassment as you snapped your eyes to him, seeing an adorable blush spread rapidly across his cheeks, avoiding eye contact with you at all costs.

You hum, bookmarking the page and slamming the book shut. Harry was now staring straight ahead at the lake, as if there was something interesting in it, making amusement appear on your usually expressionless face. “Look at you blushing, Potter. So adorable.” You whispered the last part, almost teasingly, and he blushes even more.

“Well, you’re adorable as well.” Harry dares meeting your eyes. His heart bangs even more loudly in his chest after seeing the almost loving look in them, finding himself admiring you.

All playfulness leaves your face as you stare into each other’s eyes with a mirroring hint of adoration. You shift to lean back on one of your hand while the other rise to brush a hair out of Harry’s forehead, before cupping his cheek, admiring the way his emerald eyes sparked under the warm sunlight. This is your first time seeing his face close and having the time to focus on his features more; you knew Harry was attractive the moment you set eyes on him, but you realised he looked almost ethereal at this point, making your heart flutter.

“Your eyes are really captivating,” You muttered, barely audible but reached Harry’s ears nonetheless.

He chuckled breathlessly, “I got it from my mum.”

“She must’ve been such a wonderful woman then.”

Your thumb gently rubbed his cheek and Harry couldn’t help but lean to your touch and close his eyes. He’s been touch-deprived for long, being touched with care and gentleness made him weak in the knees easily. A coo escape from your lips; an unlikely sound for a Slytherin to make. Before Harry could process what was happening, you had set aside your book and pulled him to your lap, settling him between your legs. Harry blinks, surprised.

“I’m seriously soft for you, Potter. Too adorable.” You sigh, burying your hand through his dark locks and softly scratching his scalp.

Getting over his initial shock, Harry relaxed and made himself comfortable, letting his body rest against yours as he laid his head on your chest. It worried him that you might hear his rapidly beating heart, but honestly couldn’t bring himself to care when you were being so generous, holding him, playing with his hair. If others were to see you and him like this, they would certainly assume it’s the end of the world for two rival houses to be cuddly with each other when they usually spit hatred.

Though, after meeting you, Harry had begun to believe not all Slytherins are bad — it’s just that people, including himself, unfairly stereotyped them as a bunch of evil-doers only because of the choices that older generation made in the past, which the young Slytherins are definitely not in control of. There are questionable Slytherins like Malfoy and his goons, but they’re not a reason for others to start generalising that all students from the snake house is evil.

Slowly and albeit hesitantly, Harry wraps his arms around your back and nuzzles your chest. You’re absolutely different from other Slytherin members, but he still found it odd that a Slytherin is this nice and affectionate, especially when you’re usually quiet and socially distant, preferring to be alone with slightest bit of annoyance directed at your fellow housemates.

Closing his eyes as sleepiness start to fall over his eyelids, the Chosen One wondered why you’re only doing this with and to him. He’s never seen you with anyone before, and when he did, you always maintained clear distance from them, as if they held contagious disease. It made him feel special in any way, but also confused.

“(Y/n)?”

His sleepy voice make you chuckle softly. “Hmm?”

“Why are you so affectionate with me?”

Your hand playing with his hair abruptly stops, and for a second Harry thought he made a mistake of mentioning it. However, relief floods him when you went back to massaging his scalp. “Isn’t it obvious, Potter?”

He shakes his head. Don’t want to assume.

Silence falls as you stop your hand again. Curiosity of your expression plaguing his mind, Harry opens his eyes and looks up without moving from his laying position — his breath almost stopping when he came across a very loving gaze staring at him like he was the entire universe. His heart swell as heat rushes to his cheeks. He attempted to hide his face by burying it on your chest, but you held him still, hand cupping his cheek once again.

You don’t even give him time to react before you captured his lips on yours, practically stealing Harry’s breath away. Just a gentle kiss on the lips, but enough to make his brain fuzzy.

Pulling away before he could reciprocate, you smiled. Not a forced one, but genuine and coming from the bottom of your heart. “Does that answer your question, Harry?”

Despite the fluttering of his heart and the urge to jump up and down in pure joy, Harry pouts. “Not enough.”

You chuckled. “I need to be persuasive then.”

Needless to say, you both missed the next class making out by the Black Lake and not caring about getting caught.

Ron and Hermione were freaked out. The reason lies with Harry, who’s been in an awfully good mood the entire day to the point even Malfoy can’t get through him and he began noticing some good qualities in some of the Slytherin members. Don’t get them wrong, Harry being in a good mood is great because the boy deserves a day without constantly fighting for his life and feeling like everyone’s against him, but attempting to find the good qualities even in Malfoy? That’s when the two gets really concerned.

When lunch break comes around, Harry was still in a brilliant mood, smiling to himself because of whatever Merlin knows. Ron and Hermione shares a look as they continue to eat, observing their best friend who began to look for you in the Slytherin table, his smile immediately widening after he sees you.

Hermione turns around just in time for you to look up from the foods and meet Harry’s eyes. Unexpectedly, a soft smile appears on your lips as you wave at him, not caring when your housemates see it. Harry chuckled, waving back, before you returned to eating your food in silence. The three of them witnessed Malfoy mutter something that caused you to roll your eyes and smack the back of his head with the book you were reading before.

“So,” Ron began after he and Hermione looked back at Harry. “Is there something you’re not telling us, ‘arry?”

The said boy only raised his eyebrows, unable to contain his grin.

“Come on, Harry!” Hermione urged.

Before anyone could respond, however, someone took a seat on the empty space beside Harry — turning their heads, they were surprised to see you there.

“Hello, love.” Harry almost melted at the pet name. You gave his best friends a polite smile, “Excuse him from your conversation for a moment, Hermione, Ron.”

“Of course, go ahead.” Neither of them could honestly deny a polite Slytherin no matter how much they want to.

“What is it?” Harry questioned, more than welcome to talk with you. However, you seem to have a different idea in mind as you leaned in without a word and captured his lips in a lingering kiss, hearing gasps erupt from multiple places — mainly Ron, Hermione, any Gryffindor who were wondering why a Slytherin paid Harry Potter a visit, Malfoy, his goons, and some other Slytherins who just happened to catch the moment. Few students from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had their mouths open in shock as well.

There was a smug look on your face when you pulled away, smirking at Malfoy who was previously babbling some nonsense that you couldn’t possibly like Potter and are probably just using him. By the looks of it, you had succeeded in proving the blonde ferret wrong.

“What was that for?” Harry asked breathlessly. You caught him off guard.

“Oh, nothing. Just proving to gits that a Gryffindor and Slytherin are sometimes compatible if it’s with the right person.” You shrugged, resting one elbow on the table and putting your chin on the palm of your hand. “In short, I wanted to prove people wrong who says we can’t be together since you’re a Gryffindor as I am a Slytherin.”

“Wait, someone told you that?”

“Rumours of us being seen making out by the Black Lake travels fast,” You sipped on Harry’s pumpkin juice, which he didn’t mind even the slightest as he blushed, avoiding Ron’s and Hermione’s wide and intrigued eyes. “One little bird from Ravenclaw thought it’d be wise to practically squeal it in the hallways that the rumour’s impossible because of our houses rivalry.”

You snort, “As if we give a fuck about that.”

For the first time, Harry actually saw the Slytherin in you.

And he wasn’t going to complain, not when you’re not like any other.

© all rights reserved to hadesrise ──── stealing, plagiarising, or using my works for monetary gain is strictly prohibited. ask permission before reposting or translating.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

Heyy! Happy late Halloween 🎃 I looooveee your writing !! Could you do headcanons for how marauders would react if the reader could do legilimacy? They're muggleborn so they didn't think it was that big a deal bc they thougjg all wizards could do it and casually mention it

headcanons for marauders reacting to reader knowing legitimacy

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 tries to brush it off as if he’s totally unfazed, but internally, he's panicking.

➯His first instinct is denial—surely, you’re just perceptive, right? But as soon as you respond to something he hasn’t said out loud, he’s rattled.

➯He’ll keep "testing" you, thinking ridiculous things like "I bet you can’t hear this" on a loop, only to break into a fit of laughter when you answer with an exasperated eye-roll.

➯When he finally accepts that you can actually read his mind, he goes into full-blown soulmate mode, convinced this is destiny.

➯James decides he’s above needing to verbalize “I love you” and will start giving you overly dramatic, lovesick looks whenever he thinks it, just to see if you’ll respond.

James is deep in thought about a prank idea. You: “Exploding ink? You know McGonagall’s going to see right through that.” James: choking “H-how did you know that?” You: “Because you were thinking about it.” James: “No, seriously, who told you? Sirius?! Remus? Who's the traitor?” You: “None of them. Just your brain.” James stares at you with a mix of awe and panic. James: “Brilliant. Terrifying, but brilliant.”

𝐒𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐮𝐬 jumps out of his skin when you first respond to his thoughts, staring at you like you’ve just sprouted horns.

➯He immediately calls you a demon and insists you’re here to haunt him specifically, but secretly, he finds it oddly thrilling.

➯Within minutes, he’s running around thinking of the most absurd things he can just to throw you off, like mentally chanting "I am an irresistible god of charm" to see if you’ll break.

➯Over time, he gets used to it and will sometimes think cute things at you, but never admit it if you notice.

➯Deep down, though, he’s convinced your Legilimency is proof that you’re some kind of witchy soulmate sent from the beyond to torture him, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sirius is debating in his head whether he should wear his leather jacket to breakfast. You: “Leather jacket? Again?” Sirius: whipping around “What?! I didn’t say anything!” You: smirking “You didn’t have to.” Sirius: “I’m being haunted. This is it. You’re a witchy ghost sent to expose my every cool thought.” You: “What cool thoughts?” Sirius gasps dramatically. Sirius: “Betrayed by my own mind!”

𝐑𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬, initially skeptical, quickly connects the dots when you casually respond to one of his unspoken worries.

➯His brain goes straight to over-analysis, and he spirals just a bit, convinced you’re both a prodigy and incredibly dangerous.

➯While he finds it fascinating, he's low-key embarrassed every time you catch his stray thoughts—he didn't mean for you to hear that, really!

➯He starts to watch his thoughts around you, editing his internal monologue as if he’s writing an essay for you to "read."

➯Every now and then, he’ll test the limits by thinking random trivia or book recommendations at you, silently thrilled every time you respond.

➯He’s careful but secretly loves that you can understand him on this completely new level.

Remus is mentally debating whether he should get more coffee or just stick with tea. You: “Coffee.” Remus: startles “I—pardon?” You: “Just get the coffee, Remus. You’re going to regret the tea halfway through.” Remus: nervously laughing “Are… are you reading my mind?” You: “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫, the most openly freaked out, will start squinting at you like you’re the strangest creature he’s ever seen.

➯For days, he’s looking over his shoulder, convinced you’re pulling pranks on him somehow.

➯Every time you respond to his thoughts, he jolts and gives you a suspicious look, half-afraid and half-impressed.

➯It only takes one incident of you responding to something he really didn’t want to say out loud for him to become almost paranoid.

➯After a while, though, he’ll start to use it to his advantage, asking for silent reassurance when he's worried or seeking encouragement without having to say it—though he’ll always look a bit jittery when you respond, as if he still can’t quite believe it.

Peter is internally freaking out about his Potions essay, wondering if he should ask you for help. You: “I’ll help you with Potions later, don’t worry.” Peter: jumps “How did you…?” You: “You looked like you needed it.” Peter: “But… I didn’t… I didn’t even look at you!” You: “You don’t have to.” Peter stares at you, eyes wide, before finally mumbling. Peter: “...are you like… always in there?” You: grinning “Only sometimes.”

[dragon-kazansky]

The song in our hearts

Lestat De Lioncourt x Female Reader

A musician with a heart that sings and an admirer who wishes to see his songbird thrive. Two beings in different worlds get caught up in each other when someone threatens to steal his songbird's spotlight. Loving Lestat isn't simple, and your life will never be the same again. What is eternity without chaos?

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Five - Dark truths

You didn't sleep at all that night. You didn't leave the house all day either. You didn't even answer the door when Amelie and Jack came over to see how you were.

They knew Noah was missing. They didn't know he was dead.

When Friday came around and no one had seen you, Jack came to the house again. He pleaded with you to come and tell him what had happened. He asked where Noah was, but you didn't answer him. You didn't come out at all.

That night the show went on without you.

Lestat had been sitting in his box waiting for you to come on, but when the piano never got wheeled onto the stage, he knew he had messed up. Revealing to you what he was like that had not been what he wanted. He should have been more careful, but Noah was angering him. That meaningless man ruined your performance.

Lestat couldn't take it any more. With Noah gone you would be able to shine. Lestat would have done things differently. You were different.

The vampire didn't stick around to watch the end of the show. Your usual slot came and went and he knew you weren't going to perform tonight.

He went to your home.

I'm outside, Chéri.

Nothing.

Please let me in.

Lestat knew you were inside and he longed to see you. He wanted to hear your voice and see your face. He wanted to reach out and hold you to him. He wanted to explain things properly.

You refused to come outside.

His voice was in your head and it was pricing you crazy. How can his voice be in your head like that? Was he really a monster or were you too freaked out and messed up to comprehend anything?

You were afraid.

I know you can hear me. You have no reason to fear me. Harming you is the last thing I could ever want.

You don't believe him. He knows it too.

Lestat looks up at your window with longing. He yearns for you. He needs you. He wants you.

Please. 

The door opens. Lestat finds himself looking at you. You're a disheveled mess and he can see the fear in your eyes. He doesn't move.

“I am sorry you found out the way you did.”

“What do you mean…?” You ask cautiously.

“Me being a vampire.”

You shake your head quickly. “Vampires aren't real.”

“Oh, but we are.” He smiles at you.

You stare at him in disbelief. Was this man crazy? Oh no… you had been to his house! The house of a crazy person!

Lestat can hear your internal struggle and shakes his head. He steps a little closer. “Listen, Chéri, I am real. I am here. I want you.”

“Why? Why me?” You want to hide back inside your house, but you also want answers.

“You are… everything.”

You don't know what he means by that. Nothing is making sense to you. You can't help feeling like he's dangerous.

“I am dangerous.”

“Stop doing that! Stop… reading my mind!”

Lestat chuckles softly. “From the moment I first heard you play I knew I had to have you. You, Chéri, are everything and more. Talent like yours is hard to find in this world. It also helps you're the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes upon… Well, second to myself.” He winks at you.

He's trying to calm you down. You can tell he's telling the truth. Though you're not sure how much you can trust him.

“Do you not want a taste? To walk alongside the unknown?” He is feeding into your curiosity, luring you in. 

You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. “How do I know you won't just kill me like you did to Noah?”

“That useless man had it coming. He was abusing your talents with his awful voice. He wanted to use you for his own gain in the hope of using your popularity at the theater to get famous. Well, anyone who truly approaches music would know he had no talent whatsoever.” Lestat scoffs.

“He really is dead…?”

“Oui.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Oh God. Oh God! What do I tell Jack?” You pull at your hair.

“Tell him nothing,” Lestat says, coming a little closer to your door. “Noah has left the country as far as anyone is concerned. He had no relatives here, no actual influence on anyone. He's gone. Let me help you soar.”

You look into his eyes. He's looking at you tenderly. You want to believe he's being genuine, but is he?

“I wrote you a song…” Is what you say.

Lestat stares at you in mild confusion and surprise. “You wrote me a song?”

“I did… I was inspired after my visit to your home… and I couldn't shake you from my head.”

He grins. “Is that so?”

You nod. “You… You're like a headache I can't shift. Even when I put you out of my mind, you return later. Your name is always on the end of my tongue. I look for you every Friday night in your box. I sit at my piano and I hope with all my might that my music is enough for you. Why do I care so much about what you think?”

Lestat smiles. “Perhaps because you know I appreciate your art.”

You look at him in wonder. “Is that the case? Or are you just saying that to make me trust you?”

He sighs. “You're making this very difficult.”

“You killed Noah!” You say a little too loudly.

Lestat covers your mouth with his hand. You groan and bite his fingers. He removes his hand and grins. “If you're into biting, I can help.”

You worry if you roll your eyes too hard they'll fall out the sockets. “I need time…”

Lestat lifts his chin up a little bit. “Very well. Time.” He steps away from your door. “But please don't take too long.” He walks away.

Once he's out of sight you close your door and lean against it.

The next Friday you return to the theater and try to ignore the stares from other performers. However, Amelie and Jack could not be ignored. You would have to face them, which was why you had come up with a story. A lie. Lying to the two people who looked after you all these years felt so wrong, but telling the truth would be worse.

They cornered you in your dressing room. Jack had a whole speech for you, telling you he was so worried and he didn't know if he needed ro contact a doctor for you. You let him speak before deciding to tell them the story you had come up with.

“Noah is gone. He left. We had a huge fight and it got out of control.”

“Did he hurt you?” Amelie asks, coming to sit beside you.

“No. Not physically anyway. Just my pride,” you assure her. There was some truth to that at least.

“Why didn't you say anything?” Jack asks, looking at you like a wounded puppy.

“It was my mess. I didn't want everyone to get involved. Noah was using me for his own advantage and I had had enough. I play solo, Jack. No more duets.” You look at him firmly.

“Understood.”

“I was so worried about you! You wouldn't even answer the door…” Amelie looks at you sadly.

“I'm sorry… I just had a lot to deal with.” You give her a hug.

Jack sighs and looks at you fondly. “I should have been more firm with him. Your sponsor hasn't made a donation since…”

“No. I suppose he hasn't. Is my slot still open?” You ask.

“Of course it is!” He assures you.

You smile. “Then I'll be back to playing for you. Tonight too soon?”

“Not at all.”

With all that out of the way the two leave you alone to get ready. You sigh deeply and prepare to face the music once more.

Lestat didn't appear in his box that night. Nor the Friday after, or the one after that. In fact, for the next 2 months he did not appear inside the theater. He did, however, send donations to Jack. He stopped sending gifts to your dressing room too.

Still, you couldn't shake him from your brain.

As you went into month 3 without seeing him or hearing from him, you had begun to miss him. If Lestat had wanted to harm you, surely he would have done so by now. He has plenty of chances to.

You decided to write him a small letter. You had it delivered to his house, not feeling brave enough to go there yourself.

You had chosen to forgive him.

Come to the theater Friday night. Your box is waiting for you.

It was all you could think to do to get him to return to you. As you stood off to the side of the stage waiting for your turn, you felt terribly nervous. You almost felt like you were struggling to breathe. You had sent Amelie out to check the boxes. She seemed to be taking her time.

You had moments to go before it was your turn. Amelie appeared beside you. “What took you so long?”

“Mr De Lioncourt invited me to talk to him. He asked me to give you this.” She holds up the rose. You stare at it, mesmerized by the deep red color of its petals. You take it from her gently.

“This is for me?”

She nods. “He told me he was happy you had asked him to come back. Did you two fight too?”

“Sort of…” You reply softly, still looking at the rose.

“Well, he's glad to hear you perform again.”

“Good. Tonight is going to be special.”

Amelie wasn't sure why it would be special, but she was just happy to see you back where you belong.

Your name is called. You take a deep breath and walk out onto the stage, rose in hand. You lift your head up, but ignore the audience. Your eyes drift up to his box. Lestat is sitting there, smiling at you.

You're wearing the necklace he gave you months ago. You're clutching the rose in your hand. You're looking at him.

Lestat knows you've forgiven him.

You take a seat at your piano and place the rose down where normally the music sheets would go, but you don't need them. You're only going to play one song tonight.

His song.

You begin. Lestat's ears are blessed with a melody new to him. An arrangement he has never heard before. He doesn't need to read your mind to know this is the song you wrote for him.

He's completely enamored with you.

There's a depth to your song. Without words he can understand what you're trying to say. He knows why you wrote this piece.

You felt something that night.

Perhaps the same thing he felt for you.

He wouldn't deny it.

The music ends too soon for his liking. He watches you with keen eyes as you take a bow and exit the stage. He didn't want your music to end. Lestat rose from his seat and left the box. He had to see you.

Jack wanted to question why you only played one song, but you didn't give him time to even get the question out. You went to your dressing room and waited.

The door opened moments later. You stood from your dressing table and watched Lestat approach you. He closed the door behind him, keeping out the outside world.

“That song…” He started. “Was it for me?”

“Yes. Did you like it?”

Lestat smiled as he slowly closed the distance between you both. You felt like your breathing was too loud, that he could probably hear your heart beating too.

I can.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” He asks, grinning.

“Get in my head.”

He chuckles. “It's one of the many things I can show you.” He holds out his hand to you. It's an invitation into his life. An invitation into the night.

You take his hand.

Lestat smiles and pulls you in close. “do you trust me?”

“We'll see.”

For now, that's enough for him.

@awanderingghost @theprettiesthead @cosmixstar @theblueslytherin @katherine2098 @sawendel @floofdeloop @sitkafay @bigbaddie45 @bluscryn

@secretisme4

[tanpopo-towa]

I love how the characters in this game feel more than just characters. They're more alive. The developers gave them actual human characteristics and traits that you can see in day to day life in yourself or those around you. For example Ren,, you can love him or hate him, but he's so human, despite not being one. On one end, Ren has been forced into a situation that he never wanted to partake in. He definitely has trauma with water. He just wants to do his own thing. Haru doesn't even want him to have a job outside of jabberwocky. He's like a teenager trying to escape his homelife. A life he never chose.

On the other, Ren showcases lowered empathy. He might be seen as selfish for not wanting to help out with the animals. That he takes advantage of those more willing around him (MC and Lyca) to do his chores for him.

Humans are not all good and pure, or all bad and evil. They might be manipulative. They might make poor decisions. Ren still cares about living creatures and people. He freaked out when he thought he killed calamari. He taught calamari how to play games and made sure calamari didn't get swept away.

He is not morally righteous, but he's not awful either. He's so complicated as a character and I love that about him.

And it's not just Ren. It's every single character in this series. Every character has something more to them that makes them, well, them. And I think that's beautiful.

[myringtoe]

stairway to heaven 🪽 | lnds men

pairing: zayne x fem!reader, xavier x fem!reader, sylus x fem!reader, rafayel x fem!reader (separate)

cw: talk of spiritual beings and religion.

a/n: the basic premise of this one is that mc is an angel…like a biblical angel. i’ve had this idea for years so this is HIGHLY self indulgent. :3 i’d also love to expand on this if anyone would be interested in that. :)

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

just to preface this, this is kinda based on an oc of mine. but i’ve worded it so it’s still reader pov. :)

zayne 𓇢𓆸

legit didn’t believe you at first.

you’re gonna have to show him, full wings and everything for him to believe you.

so when you do show him, he’s astounded. zayne thinks you’re absolutely beautiful, while also being confused. he has so many questions.

one of the only times you’ll see this man speechless.

once you’ve explained how you came to live on earth, and how everything else works, he really doesn’t care about your supernatural-ness.

all he cares about is him getting to be with you, he doesn’t care what you are.

would be so worried about accidentally hurting your wings.

when you give him a feather from your wings that naturally fell off, he almost cries. it means so much to him. he puts it on his desk at work in its own little area.

whenever someone asks what it’s from, he lies and says it’s from a rare bird he saw while he was in another country.

xavier ☆

he LOVES it.

when you show him your angel form, he’s freaking out. (in a good way)

the minute you show your wings, he’s asking if you to take him flying some time. (if you say no, he gets pouty)

believes you’re the most stunning creature in the universe. will NOT stop complimenting you.

is so curious about your abilities as an angel.

then comes the questions about your origins and how you came to earth. when you answer, he’s completely fascinated.

genuinely thinks this is one of the coolest things to ever happen to him. his girlfriend is an ACTUAL ANGEL for christs sake! (see what i did there? ;))

is practically begging to touch your wings. he’s extra careful around the high points/bones of them. his touch is feather-light against them.

any time you’re in your angel form, he just stares at you in awe. he can’t believe that someone as divine as you, chose to be with him.

sylus 𖦹

another speechless one.

is terrified of “ruining” you. (as he puts it)

he thinks that because you’re angel, that he’s somehow going to ruin your angelic “innocence”.

to which you then have to explain to him that that’s literally never going to happen because that’s not how it works.

he felt like he didn’t deserved you before, now he feels like he REALLY doesn’t. this guy needs so much reassurance that he does deserve you.

(sorry if sylus is a little ooc)

after you’ve explained everything to him. he just wants to shower you with love. telling you how beautiful and amazing you are.

leads to a very lovely and very long night. ;)

he’s hyping himself up a little bit too, like ‘there’s an actual angel in my presence, and she wants ME.’

super protective of you after you tell him. he knows you’re fully capable of defending and protecting yourself, but he 1. doesn’t want others to find out and try to blackmail or take advantage of you, and 2. doesn’t want the people of the N109 zone to try and take the one good thing he has in his life.

let’s be honest, sylus has a cocky and confident attitude, which is admirable. but on the inside, he needs SO much reassurance. (which isn’t a bad thing)

rafayel 𓆝

this little shit.

he feels like he finally has someone he can relate to. with him being a sea god and all.

a mermaid and an angel…what a pair.

showing him your angel form was a mistake.

because now he wants to use you as a muse for every single painting.

literally one of the first things he asks is if he can use you for one of his paintings.

people would ask him who the person in the painting was, and with a totally serious face he would say:

“my angel girlfriend. :)”

and no one would actually believe that you were an angel, so it’s like a little inside joke between the two of you.

but seriously, he feels like he can trust you with his secret so much more, because he knows you’re hiding one too.

rafayel would of course ask the typical questions, to which you’d answer honestly.

he’s probably the most chill about it out of all of them. because he’s a “divine” being himself. while he may not have wings, he does have a fish tail and can breathe underwater.

he understands you the most out of the four.

[sea-lanterns]

I’m imagining all the super tall and stoic ladies (Arlecchino, Sara, Shenhe, etc.) just absolutely melting when they see their newborn child for the first time. Even Arlecchino, who already has several children, still fails to hold any resistance to the sense of awe that comes over her when she meets her newest child.

This is not helping my baby fever, anon ( • ᴖ • ｡ )

Just imagining these tall, intimidating women holding their tiny newborn child for the first time has me writhing around on the floor. I need to take a moment to compose my thoughts, hold on…

sfw under the cut

Arlecchino is no stranger to newborn infants, however; this time it’s different as it’s her newborn infant. Her baby. The baby she had with her gorgeous wife, (you) and was currently squirming around in her arms like the little bundle of joy it was. Usually Arlecchino is able to keep her calm considering she’s held countless of babies before, yet this time it felt different.

How could this tiny, small, creature possibly come from Arlecchino? It was so small and…innocent. It has Arlecchino stunned silent as she cannot believe this beautiful child came from the love of you and her. Her child.

Like instinct, Arlecchino already knows how to properly hold it, feed it, and cradle it in her arms as she looks up at you with the most admiring of eyes. She looks beyond pleased as you lay there in your bed, exhausted from the fruits of your labor as she presses a kiss to your temple, wiping the sweat off your brow and cooing.

“Thank you for being them into the world, my love. They’re absolutely precious.”

The sight of Arlecchino’s black, clawed arms gently rocking your newborn infant has you smiling despite your exhaustion. The father already having fallen in love with the tiny creature in her hands and welcoming the small child into your family.

When Sara’s first newborn was born, she was beyond nervous. She was unsure how her tengu blood would mix in well with yours, and was worried her first child might end up getting teased simply for looking a bit different.

But the moment you handed her a small bundle of heat, Sara practically froze. It was comedically adorable how your newborn had two little chicken wings (without feathers) protruding from the back as a result of Sara’s tengu blood. Sara couldn’t help but admire the adorable little wings, giving them a little poke to watch them twitch and flutter.

Sara is in love. She’s so in love. Tengu babies were so rare, and yet; here she had one in her arms, one of her own flesh and blood. She’s so grateful to you for bringing this baby tengu into the world with her, and she immediately cuddles up to you, shielding your small family in her massive wings, as she smiles and rubs a damp cloth across your face.

“You did so well, dear. Take a rest, you made the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen and deserve it…”

Shenhe was probably the most nervous out of these three. Despite being so calm and collected on the surface, inside the woman was freaking out because her wife had just gone into labor and Shenhe was terrified she would accidentally crush her baby if she held it in her arms.

Poor Cloud Retainer and Ganyu have to help her keep calm or she’d accidentally destroy the hospital. She was just a shaking mess and it took her a while before she could enter the delivery room and help you manage through the labor process. Once her nerves have been steeled however, Shenhe is rewarded with a tiny bundle of joy swaddled up in a cocoon of blankets. Her child had finally come.

She will be hesitant at first to even be near it, afraid her bloodlust energy would scare her baby and make it cry. But after some soothing words of encouragement from you, Shenhe hesitantly holds the frail infant in her arms, literally holding her breath as she was afraid of even breathing on it.

“…It’s so small.” Shenhe whispers under her breath, looking up at you with eyes filled with wonder “…It’s…mine?”

When you nod to confirm that the baby was indeed hers, Shenhe immediately snuggles the infant close. Not another word to be said for several, long, minutes.

[thecroissantwriter]

I love DCA fanfictions where the DCA is some sort of horror creature that knows far more about the multiverse than you, the reader, do and has to hide it, and indirectly themselves, from you for your own safety and sanity, BUT

What if it was the other way around?

What if the reader is the one knowledgeable about things better left swept under the rug, like demons and multiple dimensions and teleportation and all freaks of nature/violations of science?

What if the DCA and the reader need to escape an awful situation and the reader asks them not to ask questions in exchange for getting them out of their situation through teleportation?

I think that would be fun.

[rae-writes]

familiars

Mammon, Satan, Asmo || 0.8k wc || crack post [to make up for all the angst recently] ft. menace mc (Tannie's is my favorite bc that's literally me)

Mammon

The second born was on his way to Lucifer’s office again when he saw you plopped on the common room floor

You had tons of materials surrounding you : scissors, needles, thread, fabric, small stickers— even glitter glue! 

Mammon didn’t have the time to stop and ask why, he just chalked it up to his little human just doing their weird little human things

After he was dismissed from Lucifer’s office (and after a 3 fucking hour long lecture), he made his way back to the common room, but you were gone

In your place was a yellow sticky note that read “Hey Mammon! Don’t freak out, I just went outside for a bit <3” 

And that made him freak out even more

Because it was raining like all fuck out there

So he scrambles to the entrance hall and throws open the front door, ready to yell, when he just stops 

You’re crouched down on the steps with an umbrella over you while his crow familiars hop around your feet

They’re all decked out in tiny rain hats, rain coats, and some of his older ones even have small rain boots

Currently, you’re putting a glittery gold lookin set on Mammon’s youngest crow and the demon’s heart swells

The crows notice him fairly quickly and begin to jump around even more, making you look back and beam 

“Hi Mamoney! Alright little fella, you’re all good to go now! Go say hi to Mammon!” 

He could cry. Literally sob at how fucking cute this is

“Aw, guys! Look at ya!” He pets them over their hats, grinnin’ ear to ear, “Mc. You didn’t tell me you wanted to parent the kids with me.” 

You laughed, making him grin even more. “You mentioned them getting cold when they got rained on so I figured I’d help out! Don’t they just look so cute?!” 

Mammon’s eyes were practically heart shaped, “y-yeah…”

(he absolutely gets you and him a rain set so you can all go out in them like a big family) 

(and yes his brothers made fun of him for it and no he didn’t care— especially not when you slapped them with your wet rain hat)

Satan 

You and Satan were out on a simple walk. A relaxing, uneventful walk

That is until you get approached by a fucking unicorn

You don’t know what the hell to do or say- you just kinda stand there staring for a minute while Satan pets his uh…friend. He chuckles at your response, raising an eyebrow when you hold a single finger up

“Someone either slipped me some severe drugs or you’re just a stone cold traitor who did not tell me he was bffs with this gorgeous creature. Both of which I will take offense to.” 

“I deeply apologize for my transgressions, my love.” 

You glanced at the unicorn with a look of ‘can you fucking believe this guy’ before raising a hand, “May I?” 

You received a neigh, to which you leaned in closer and stroked up its nose, where you then received a delighted huff 

“I would die for you.” 

Satan snorted, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. His laughter only got louder when his familiar looked at him with the equivalent expression of ‘how dare you keep this human from me’ 

“Yes, yes, I should’ve introduced you two sooner. Are we done pouting now?” 

You and the unicorn looked at eachother. Then at Satan. Then back to each other. “No.”

He smiled, still amused, “then how about a ride through town? I’ll walk beside you.”

“Like the peasant you are. Alright- onward, Uni! Let’s go kick a guy in the gut.”

...perhaps Satan had been leaving you alone with Belphie for too long

Asmo 

For once (though not for long), the House of Lamentation was peacefully quiet

Most of them were doing their own thing in the common room, existing without a hitch beside each other— a perfect day, in Lucifer’s opinion 

“EEEEKKK!”

The sound was extremely high pitched and cracked, but it was written off as ‘just Mammon doing something stupid again’ 

Yeah…until he walked through the door asking what the hell that noise was. Then they all did a headcount- you were the only one not present 

Asmo turned into the world’s biggest track star in that moment and made his way to you first, finding you floating in mid air at the entrance hall

And on the floor was a sleek black scorpion just…sitting there

“Hon…don’t tell me you’re scared of my gorgeous little baby?!” 

You stared at him like he was fucking nuts— which you thought so in that moment. “I’m sorry, I was a bit too focused on the stINGER!” 

“He doesn’t sting anyone unless I tell him too, Hon, no worries!” 

…’no worries’ he says, as if the creepy thing wasn’t among the most dangerous animals to humans. And a human, you were 

In fairness, the scorpion was not so horrible looking. It’s tail faded into a hot pink like Azzy’s horns and it’s feet(?) we’re tipped with gold. And it had a faint sparkly coat. Of course. 

“Okay…I can deal with this…I guess he is..kind of..pretty..?” 

“Indeed he is! I shine him myself! You wanna hold him?” 

“No, that’s alrig— STOP BRINGING IT CLOSER!”