#like its so hard to create when you KNOW that anyone you show will just be a dick even if its behind your back

[justtheclippy]

Tips and FAQ for Asks

Hello beautiful humans, I want to do my best to get to everyone's asks so here are a few things you can do to help make that happen! (if you're looking for the cast stream master list, skip to the bottom)

Please don't spam the same question repeatedly. I will get to you eventually, I promise! But when you submit the exact same thing multiple times, it just slows me down. I've got one single brain cell, please have mercy.

No spoiler requests. I cannot tell you anything about future episodes, when they will come out, what will happen to certain characters, how the story ends etc. We're limited on what we can say in general until more episodes release. The entire cast has signed NDAs (non disclosure agreement) preventing us from revealing anything, but more than that, we wouldn't want to ruin your experience of watching and engaging with the show organically! Trust me, just enjoy the ride, it's better that way.

Don't take anything too seriously. Please keep in mind most of these answers will just be for fun. My thoughts and opinions on the character, both for silly things like favorite dessert and more serious things like character analysis, are not hard and fast canon. Same goes for any of the actors. We can speculate about our characters, we know and understand them well, but when in doubt, assume its allllllllllllll non-canonical haha

Read through previous asks. This will help prevent asking things I've already answered. I'm going to be tagging (i swear I'll do it fr) my answers with #amanda asks and #tadc asks so you can find them more easily. If you do ask a question I've already answered IT'S OK DON'T PANIC I won't be upset haha

Even though I'll be tagging my answers so you can easily find them, here are a few frequently asked questions just to get them out of the way. If you decide to ask me something I've already answered, or something that goes against the guidelines above, I'll probably skip it, you silly geese.

Q: I've seen people use several different pronouns for you, what are your preferred pronouns? A: They/them and I prefer masc leaning terms generally! I'm queer, NB and very open about my identity. But people will sometimes use she/her because they don't know. I will never get upset with someone for not knowing- it's ok. But now that you've read this, you know! So you can go forth educated. You're welcome to correct anyone who doesn't know, but please be kind to each other. We've all been the person who didn't know before.

Q: What do you think of X ship? A: I love and support all the ships! Ships are part of a healthy fandom, keep creating content that makes you feel seen and that YOU want to see, that's the foundation of creativity. And if anyone disagrees with you, remind them that a lot of classics are just fanfiction about the gods at the time. It's always been here.

Q: What is your favorite ship? A: Bunnydoll and Buttonblossom, because the dynamics are so much fun.

Q: Do you like X AU? A: Yes. It doesn't matter what it is, yes. I love the AUs and if it's a new one, you better include a link so I can find it. I want all of them, thank you so muuuuuuuuch~

Q: Have you seen or played X game/show/movie/meme etc.? A: Always happy to chat about other media! But if you wanna ask about something specific, please include a link or explanation because lets be just so very honest, half the time my brain is off in adhd land so there's a good chance I'll have no idea what you're talking about at first.

Q: Have you watched Raggedy Ann & Andy: A Musical Adventure? A: Not yet! But due to VERY POPULAR REQUEST I will be putting together a watch stream to watch it live with yall. Once that's happened, I'll put the link here.

Q: Have you seen Queen's second game and will you be playing it? A: Yes, we've all seen the trailer and we're very excited! We will be playing it as a full cast, just like last time, as soon as the game is finished. For now, please go enjoy the demo and support the team! Once it's out and we're ready to stream it, I'll post the link here.

Q: Can you come to X convention? A: I will come to any convention that yall want to see me at!

BUT

In order for that to happen, you have to request me directly with the convention. Most will have either a request form on their site or a specific email for requests. Just write in that you would like to see me at their event, and then they will get in touch with my agent to book me!

Q: Can I request a song for you to sing? A: Of course! I promise yall I'll do my best to put out more songs this year. If there's a cover you want me to consider doing, or an artist/composer you'd like to hear me work with, let me know!

Outside of that, if you just want a little clip, you can drop requests in the asks and if I know the song I might record a bit. This is COMPLETELY dependent on time, especially if I'm busy. Please understand ❤️

You can also make requests during stream signings, which is easier to accommodate in the moment. Just put the request in the order notes, and I'll sing a little bit for you while I sign IF I know the song. So choose wisely.

Q: Can I write an ask just to show you cool stuff or tell you you're awesome? A: Of course you can! You can also tag me in stuff, that's ok too. I appreciate all the love and support yall have shown for me, Ragatha and the show in general. Yall are truly incredible. ❤️

Q: Do you have a PO Box so we can send you stuff? A: I'm setting it up THIS WEEK. I will post it here when it's ready.

Q: Where can I find X stream that the cast did? A: Moving forward, I will keep a master list of our group streams in order of date aired, to the best of my ability. If I miss one, let me know and I'll get it on here!

Saberspark TADC Cast Interview

Streamily Signing #1 (Amanda, Michael, Alex, Marissa)

Streamily Signing #2 (Amanda and Michael)

Streamily Signing #3 (Amanda and Sean)

Streamily Signing #4 (Amanda, Sean, Alex, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish)

TADC Fan Game Stream: Game 1

Streamily Signing #5 (Amanda, Alex, Ashley, Sean, Michael, Marissa, Vera, Hamish, Wiz)

Fast Food Simulator Charity Stream (Amanda, Lizzie, Marissa, Michael, Ashley)

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

watching juvenile justice is way harder than i thought it would be...

[felidthing]

i just had a very long complicated dream about some very ooc homestuck kids. jade might be rooted in some form of fanon at least but i dunno

[redr0sewrites]

Viktor general romance hcs!

🥀A/n: HES SO POOKIE I LOVE HIM‼️

🥀Cw: fluff, smut, slight angst if u squint, switch!viktor

🥀minors dni with the nsfw portion

sfw:

this man is such a workaholic, he genuinely never thought that he would fall in love

viktor is very inexperienced in the romance department, so he's definitely a little awkward at first

once he's close with someone, he definitely starts to open up to them a lot more! he'd really appreciate a partner that he can have deep, philosophical conversations with and definitely asks for your opinion on a lot of things

your a very valuable person in his life, and viktor makes sure that you know that. while he may not be great with words, his actions show that he truly cares for you

while he may not admit it, viktor loves when you complete acts of service for him or help him at all. he loves when you visit him in the lab and bring him some coffee, it always makes his day

because he works so much and spends so much time in the lab, viktor will often invite you to join him there. you two often spend hours together, just sitting in near-silence and working in tandem. viktor would love it if you got along well with jayce (and sky too but mostly jayce), you are his favorite people and he would love it if you all got along

viktor isn't the most cuddly person in the world, but he makes some exceptions for you! after a long day, he loves just melting into your embrace and having you play with his hair. viktor would spend hours just laying in your lap and rambling about hextech if he could

he's not big on pda, but he loves holding your hand. viktor holds your hand anywhere and everywhere, he always wants you as close to him as possible and he'll sometimes trace words into the back of your hand with his thumb when you are asleep. before he said "i love you" out loud, viktor probably traced it against your skin at least a million times.

viktor prefers to stay in for dates, and definitely enjoys staying up late with you. idk if they have television in the world of arcane, but it seems a little shocking that they can have giant magical teleportation portals and literal magic orbs and magic flying blimps and body enhancing drugs but haven't created a tv. so like. lets just pretend they do have television. cuz if they do, than you and viktor DEFINITELY have movie marathons and movie nights together

he loves making you little trinkets and gifts!!! whenever there is extra material leftover at the lab, viktor's first thought is to make something for you! he once made you an entire bouquet of fake flowers out of scrap metal, and told you that he would love you until the flowers withered (it would never wither cuz its made of metal ☹️). your home is practically overflowing with these little trinkets, but you REFUSE to get rid of any of them (i think i saw the flower scenario on a tiktok, but URGRHRHRH i wanna write it so... if anyone is interested... 😇)

honestly, the best time spent with viktor is in the comfort of your own home. you have a very domestic relationship, and he likes sitting with you in comfortable silence.

he'll call you pet names in zaun, even before you two are together😭

overall, viktor is genuinely such a sweetheart once he trusts you and will stay by your side no matter what

nsfw:

SWITCH LEANING SUB 🫵🫵🫵

because of his leg and overall sickness, viktor definitely prefers simpler positions that don't require a lot of physical stress

he likes having you on top of him so that he doesn't have to put pressure on his knee, and he definitely prefers not having to push himself too hard

i'd say his favorite positions would probably be you riding him, sitting on his face, lotus position, and maybe 69 or missionary too (but the last two are only on good days when he isn't in too much pain)

at first, viktor was insecure about sleeping with you because he genuinely does not think very highly of himself and didn't want you to think that he was weak or ugly :( please reassure him

ON THAT TOPIC!!! PRAISE!!!!!!

praise is literally SO important to him, while it is one of his kinks i genuinely think he appreciates it outside of the bedroom as well.

lots and lots of communication. "is this ok", "can i touch you here", type of stuff. he's very gentle with you, and obviously you are with him as well

because he wears his leg brace literally all the time, viktor has a handful of bruises and scars from the brace rubbing against his skin 24/7 (idk if he sleeps w it on tbh- im assuming not but u get the point) and he can be a little insecure about them. PLEASE kiss them and show his body a lot of affection in general

viktor isn't super vocal at first, but once he trusts you he lets out the neediest whines and moans. he curses a lot under his breath, and he has a verrryyyyy pretty fucked-out expression.

this man is a switch 100%. most of the time he subs and bottoms, but sometimes he'll dom from the bottom and very occasionally he'll dom from on top. when he's a sub i definitely see him as, like, the male version of a pillow princess. he definitely just wants to lay back and get taken care of, and will get very pouty if you do not do so. he loves being pampered and praised and he's SOOO sensitive when he's subbing. when he's in a more dominant mood, i see him getting off on your pleasure a lot more than his own. he loves fingering you, and definitely loves overstimulating you

viktor loves being marked and also marking you. he bites down on your shoulder a lot to muffle his moans, and he loves giving you hickeys. i genuinely think that's another one of his kinks as well

TOYS!!! im sorry but this man definitely has an extensive collection of sex toys you can't tell me im wrong bc im not. he isn't inexperienced by any means, but he probably got a lot of toys over the years because he just didn't really have that many partners and just wanted to try a bunch of things on his own yk? anyways, he fucking LOVES using them on you and teasing you mercilessly is definitely part of your guys' foreplay

this man has the most gorgeous hands and definitely puts them to good use‼️ you cannot tell me viktor does not have amazingly skilled hands bc your wrong. he literally does jayce told me

i don't think he's super vanilla but i also don't think he's into like SUPER hardcore bdsm? i think it would intrigue him but he's probably the type to be into what you are into and if you want to try something new, he's more than willing (as long as its safe. either of you getting seriously hurt is a major nono for him). that being said, i don't think he'd mind being handcuffed or experimenting a bit with shibari, but you guys DEFINITELY have a safeword. like even if you have 100% vanilla soft sex he still establishes a safeword with u and makes sure your comfortable.

overall, his kinks include: praise (giving and receiving), little bit of edging (receiving), overstimulation (only giving), marking, and kind of a wildcard but also maybe somnophilia. like he would NOT complain about waking up to head lmao- he's def the type to have wet dreams i want to write this omg

i am so! tired!!! still feeling very crappy but i am pushing through my classes until the end of the year 😭 i am so close and yet so far 🙂‍↕️

ANYWAYS HOPE U ENJOYED!!! FEEL FREE TO SEND IN ARCANE REQUESTS!!! ive also been on a huge jayce x viktor streak lately? im not usually a big shipper but their dynamic intrigues me. i want to put them in a jar together and shake them around a bit. but yea i love them both!!!

[nochepsicodelica]

NSFW

Thoughts of stalker!Toji who knows where you live by now from the many times he's followed you home after you leave work. What a pretty, stunning, captivating dumb girl. Who would allow you to walk home alone at this time? Normal people are sleeping by now, you should be, too, but it's fine, it's fine. He's there to make sure you get home safe.

Stalker!Toji is careful, always maintaining his distance and taking his time to turn the corners you turn into, just to make sure you don't catch onto his unshakeable, looming shadow. He doesn't take too much time because, again, it's late. You could be snatched up by anyone. He won't let it happen. He'll protect you. Maybe if he lets something happen and he jumps in to save you, you'll consider him a hero and introduce yourself. He's tempted to create more distance from you to possibly see through this scenario. Nah. It's tempting, but he can't shake the fact that it would make him a really bad guy.

Stalker!Toji who has a spot he camps at while he waits for his favorite part of the night. You continue to prove that you're a woman in need of protection—his protection— with the way you leave your bedroom curtains open and your window unlocked. Yeah, he could easily slide those windows open and familiarize himself with your home while you're gone, but that would be disrespectful. He'll just stay outside where he usually does, crouched by the part of your window where your curtains stay bundled up until you signal that you're in your room by turning on the lights.

Stalker!Toji who comes with the moon every night and just waits for you to get home around the same time, now that he's memorized your address. He loves seeing you drag your tired self into your room, turning the light on with a careless flick of your fingers before walking towards your bed like you have stones weighing down your feet. You sigh and begin to unbutton your blouse, revealing a black lacy bra that cups your breasts so nicely. Oh, how he wishes he were there to relieve your stress by pawing at your chest. He wouldn't mind massaging your tired body. It would be an act of service for his favorite girl.

Stalker!Toji who gets frustrated when you walk out of his line of sight. You've removed your work clothes, and you're strolling around in a simple camisole and your undies. He wants to see you, but you keep going into your closet or into the bathroom next door to finish up your nightly routine. He knows he has to be patient for his reward, but fuck, you make it so hard when you tease him like that, parading around the room until you're out of sight.

Stalker!Toji who finally gets to enjoy the rest of the night once you lay down to sleep. He loves this time of year. It's too hot for you to be bundled up in blankets or layered in clothes, so you lay down in bed, half naked for his eyes to absorb. You leave very little work for his imagination when you stay so light in clothes. He can see your nipples poking through the thin camisole and your tummy is slightly exposed. His eyes rake over your thighs and the cute pattern on the fabric that covers the space between them. His mind stumbles on something that makes his dick throb in its confines. How sweet do you taste?

Stalker!Toji who internally fights the urge to fuck his fist every night when he gets turned on by the sight of you. You toss and turn in bed like a puppy doing its little spins to try and get comfortable before laying down. He gets to see the way your clothes shift on your body, revealing more skin or clinging tighter to where they rest. Sometimes you can't sleep until you make yourself cum and he gets a full on show that he would gladly lose the battle of not touching himself for.

Stalker!Toji who gets to see how kind you are to yourself, gently tracing your skin, pulling down the top of your camisole enough to expose your pretty breasts so that you can rub your nipples with one hand while the other drops to your inner thighs. He can't be kind to himself on such a time crunch, so he quickly unbuttons his jeans and pulls down his boxers enough to whip his drooling cock out, never letting his eyes leave you and your wandering hands. You finally stop teasing yourself and drag your cute little fingers over your panty clad cunt. He can see the way your tummy sinks and your chest puffs out with your touch. It's so cute.

Stalker!Toji who creaked open the window to hear your moans when he noticed the way your jaw hung open, presumably crying out in pleasure. You were angelic. Just straight up heaven to his existence. He was grunting with every buck of his hips into his fist. Why couldn't it be your pretty cunt wrapped around his cock? He could love you down so well, he could soothe you and put you to sleep with his body every night if you wanted him to, but no, he's stuck having to touch himself to the sight of his own private porn. Not that he's complaining about you. He could never.

Stalker!Toji who thinks you sound so cute when you're about to cum. You're gonna make him cum with all that sweetness in your voice. Your fingers are so much tinier than his, yet your whimpers and moans as you fuck yourself with them are so loud. With a couple more curls of your fingers you're gasping out moans and crying out in release. There's no name on your tongue, and it truly is a shame because you could make his name sound holy. He follows after you a few seconds later, thick spurts of cum landing all over his hand and the bottom part of his shirt. He has no choice but to bite his lip to muffle his groans because you've gone quiet and he can't risk drawing attention to himself. You sluggishly pull your panties up and tug your shirt over your chest again before dragging a hand down to your tummy. He watches as you draw shapes on your bare skin until you doze off. You tired yourself out... how precious.

Stalker!Toji who wipes his mess onto his shirt since it's already dirty and tucks himself away again before watching over you until he hears the morning birds sing. His gaze plays over your dormant body once more before he stands and goes back to being the normal person he was before you were caught in the web of his mind. He'll do this every night because you're a simple pleasure that he can't deny himself of. As for what happens when you catch on to his night watching tendencies, not even he knows where things will go from there.

[frmisnow]

play pretend ! ₊⟡⋆ nsfw.

the premise of fake dating your best friend, for just a weekend, is hilarous.. and scary. but what happens after is even scarier.. it's just play pretend right?

warnings / includes — sex, heavy fwb themes, bit of angst

shame coated you when you woke up in one of the guest rooms, carefully placed onto the bed at about 3am by no other then jungkook while you were dead hungover. pure rotten shame rests in your cheeks, paints them red when you say bye to his family a few hours later as jungkook couldn't quite even look at you.

everything about him was different. the way he moved around you, the way he avoided looking directly at you. hell, even his voice sounded quieter, less confident, like he didn’t know what to do either.

something had changed him, for the worse.

and it was all your damn fault.

you had thought the car ride would give you both time to defrost, pretend that whatever happened the night earlier did in fact not happen, crack some jokes but to no avail — long, defening silence.

silence and shame don't go well together, the color they create on the canvas of yours, it soaked through you. stayed with you for the next five days, it's the color of the message you send him at 11 pm on saturday, asking him how he was doing.

it's the ugly color of the 'delivered' button that stays there for the following two days.

the dress you wear to the next party is bright, anything to drown out the guilt that was eating you alive.

the music is loud, and so are you. laughing a little too hard, moving a little too close to anyone who shows you attention. you take another sip of whatever is in your cup, the liquid burning its way down your throat but dulling the ache in your chest.

and then there’s him.

you don’t see Jungkook immediately, but you feel him before your eyes catch his across the room. you feel the way the air shifts, the way your stomach churns when you notice the familiar set of his jaw, the way his eyes flicker toward you.

you almost drop your drink.

because it feels like a candid flashback of that night—only now it’s all so different. why did things have to be so complicated?

you��re pressed against some guy you barely know, his lips grazing your neck in a way that should distract you. you’ve been letting it happen, letting him flirt, letting his hands wander because it’s easier than thinking about the mess you left unresolved.

but then there’s jungkook. he stands on the other side, the neon light painting his face; his look wasn't judging. maybe light disappointment but more observing then anything, really. and it reminded you of how you used to stare at him whenever he was going after various girls at these exact sorts of parties.

it makes you sick, makes the unfamilar hands on your body feel foul and uninviting, it's not the fire burning through you like it had that night, it's cold ice, slowly creeping through your veins, making it's way to your brain.

said ice whispers things you don't want to hear, reminds you of things you don't want to think about.

"fuck, i think i like you."

you run of upstairs to the nearest balcony, the house was familar one of your mutual friends', this place was where you used to play spin the damn bottle in high school. now it feels haunted, just as univiting as the guy's hands felt a few minutes ago, why did everything feel so distant now? first jungkook, now everything else. why was it so consuming?

you light up a cigarette, you didn't usually smoke but you wanted to feel that fire again, the warmth, the pure need from a week ago. you regreted not having fucked the guy because you were sure he could've made you forget for longer then this cig could.

“thought I might find you here,” he says behind you, kneeling next to you yet keeping a safe distance, his voice low and cautious.

"you shouldn't have," you respond coldly, because anger is a better emotion to feel then regret and you had plenty things to be frustrated about, "you've been avoiding me for a whole week, don't pretend like you give a fuck." you don't meet his eyes, just take another drag.

but you see him flinch in the corner of your eye. great, the guilt sits in you once again.

he shifts slightly, and you can feel the tension radiating off him , “i know I’ve been a jerk, but it’s not that simple—”

“then make it simple.” your voice is sharper than you intended, but the hurt has festered for too long. you finally turn to face him, “i need to know what you want. because this? whatever this is? it’s fucking misery.”

the words hang heavily in the air, and for a moment, silence stretches between you. jungkook looks like he’s grappling with his thoughts, the tension in his body palpable. then, slowly, he closes the distance between you, his eyes softening as he cups your face in his hands.

“can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice a whisper, as if the question itself is laced with vulnerability.

you nod, and the moment your lips touch, it’s like everything else fades away. the kiss starts soft, gentle, as if he’s savoring the moment, and you can feel your heart begin to race.

it's nothing like the previous fire you had wished to experience earlier, it's delicate warming sunlight, brushing over your skin, washing away the hideous color that had built over the last few days.

“friends with benefits,” he murmurs against your lips, his breath hot and sweet. “we get to have this-” he kisses you again, slow and lingering, “—without the pressure of expectations.”

“expectations?” you echo, your mind racing as you try to process his words.

“yeah,” he replies, his lips brushing against yours, each touch sending shivers down your spine. “we can enjoy each other without worrying about where it’s going. just... pure fun.” his hands toy with the hem of your dress, before returning your gaze.

time slips quick, it all feels so raw, so different from that night yet all so much better.

his hands grip your thighs, pulling you closer, driving deep inside you with a primal urgency. you can feel the way he fills you, stretching you perfectly. you're so glad you aren't drunk, that you'll remember this in the morning and the day after.

you claw at his back, nails digging in, urging him on, needing more, wanting all of him. and he curses, runs his mouth like the talkative brat you knew he always was, degrades you one second, tentatively kisses your cheeks the next.

his hands rest on your tighs as he kisses along your clit once again, sweet, real. taunts you 'for the mess you made on your friend's coach' but he doesn't give you time to feel guilty, just starts nuzzling his face back into your pussy, licking along.

no, jungkook will never make you feel the same guilt again. you're sure of it, well — not that you could really properly think under these conditions anyway.

[cinderellakinnie]

people are so unnecessarily mean about people they knows art and will talk behind their back about how shitty it is, ESPECIALLY if theyre not friends, and its just like, why? people like that are the reason why people dont talk about their passions or think theyre even allowed to do that stuff. all youre doing is creating an environment where people are too self conscious to express themselves and were never going to get "good" art thats not just made by pretentious assholes who think they're better than everyone else

[snipersfucker]

An apology, but we all want to read how they are inside and possibly the Autobots lose control when what they have been imagining for so long happens (like Mirage / Bee / or Optimus) you made us addicted to you writing

there are special little places where yall can get help with your addiction!! im not the remedy!! (i bite the walls every single time i get a compliment) ALSO lets just pretend bees vocal cords werent ripped out to the point he couldn't moan like a slut :) dubcon:/

Bee was desperate.

The way your hips swayed when you walked, the way the soft tone of your voice echoed in the insides of his helm, the way you'd wrap your fragile fingers around his steering wheel and squeeze it ever so slightly in a playful manner—he needed you.

And one day, after spending countless nights on imagining you stretched out on his throbbing spike, your tits bouncing with every slap of his hips against your bare ass, he finally got the honour of actually seeing you underneath him, not just picturing it in his mind.

Bee was desperate for you, but he was also shy. Which meant that you had to initiate all the talks, all the touches, and all the kisses. However, when he finally understood that he had you exactly where he wanted you, and when he heard you vocalise your desire for him, he just couldn't stop himself.

The soft exchange of pecks on each others' lips turned into a heated make-out session, his glossa quickly asking for permission to slip into your mouth just so he could get a proper taste for the first time. His metal body began overheating as soon as he felt your body straddling his lap, your legs on both side of his hips. Your bold move made him only crave more of your touch, him barely able to restrain himself from just having his way with you, manhandling you until you'd beg for him to stop absolutely ruining you for the pleasure of you both.

And he wanted to continue making a mess with his lips on yours, especially when you were making so many sweet noises just for him... But he had to take things further, feeling like his spark might just explode if he didn't.

So he pulled away slowly, making eye contact with you for just a mere second, only to see the needy expression on your face, which gave him a silent permission to jump right into what he'd planned to do. His lips quickly found their place on the side of your neck, his servos landing on your hips, subconsciously pushing your core into his abdomen to create more friction between you.

He began licking, kissing, nibbling, and sucking the skin gently into his intake to create pretty bruises on your neck which would show anyone that you belonged to him.

Your breaths were getting heavier, much more chaotic, them hitching in your throat every time he paid special attention to a particularly sensitive spot. Your needy whimpers were mixing with the sound of his vents trying to stop him from overheating, his reaction to you making you want more of him than you already had.

And you didn't know you already had him whole. He was yours.

"Bee, please..." you whined, your eyes closed shut, hands on both of his shoulders with a strong grip which he didn't mind at all.

Your words made him transform the area under his abdomen, now a hard spike on full display, its length slapping against your stomach with every intense throb. He didn't stop taking care of your neck for even a second, every whimper and groan of desperation being muffled by your skin as he continuously planted wet kisses all the way down from your jaw to your collarbone.

He was growing impatient.

His spike touching you was sending constant pleasurable electric shocks down his bipedalism cord, his spark nearly exploding when you grinded against it with your clothed core.

The grip of his digits on your hips tightened, and you'd probably have endless bruises on your sweet, soft skin tomorrow, and this thought should've made him feel at least a tad bad but he adored knowing that he left something while doing such sinful things with you.

When you moved and brushed against his length again, he groaned in impatience, pulling away just to lift the hem of your loose shirt with his digit to signal to you that he needed it off. You made eye contact with him as you got rid of the piece of clothing on your upper half. But it wasn't enough for him—he had to have you naked against him, every inch of your warm, human skin against his hot, metal one.

Before his digit moved to the waistline of your pants, you were already unbuttoning and unzipping them, getting out of his lap just to be able to take them off fully alongside with your panties, them ending up somewhere on the floor, probably next to your shirt.

His optics immediately shot to your cunt, the temptation to put his spike inside you overwhelming his body. He didn't even wait patiently for you to get back onto his lap on your own, as soon as he stopped devouring the sight of you in front of him in just a bra, he immediately pulled you towards him with both servos on your hips again, placing you on his lap, exactly where you belonged at that moment.

Now your bare core was brushing against his spike, and he couldn't refrain himself from letting a couple of desperate noises roll off him glossa. You decided to undress fully for him, taking your bra off and tossing it onto the pile of long forgotten clothes. His optics could barely take in the view before his lips found themselves on your tits, his intake giving attention to both, switching from teasing, licking and kissing the left one to doing exactly the same to the right one. Your hardened nipples made it possible for him to gently bite them, making you buckle your hips and moan his name shamelessly, your own noises not allowing you to hear your thoughts, as if there was anything else on your mind other than how good Bee's glossa felt when it curled up on your nipple, it getting sucked into his intake.

The remains of self-control he could find within himself were slipping through his digits, the force of his touches increasing with every passing second. At the same time, he was also getting more and more intense reactions from you, your body craving more as it pressed against his.

Bee groaned, impatience getting the better of him, as he wrapped his arm around your fragile, human body, lifting you up with your chest still to his.

He moved fast like a starving man, placing you gently on the hard floor of the garage, its coldness radiating to your body, adding a completely new sensation. You arched your back, exposing your chest even more to him, hoping he'd put his mouth on your already swollen and sensitive nipples, but he seemed to have other plans when, without a heads-up, he grabbed the back of both your thighs, and lifted up your hips so that now the only body parts of yours making contact with the cement underneath you were your upper back and your head.

Your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head as you bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at the absolutely sinful sight of Bee kneeling down and hovering over you, spreading your legs and holding them pressed to your chest for better access to your dripping cunt.

You felt the tip of his spike teasing your hole which has been clenching over nothing for the past couple of minutes, finally about to get what it needed the most. And then, with one swift motion, Bee slid into you, the wet sound of his length entering your core echoed against the walls of your head.

A loud moan escaped the depths of your throat, lips parted, eyes closed themselves shut before you could even stop them, wanting to watch as the robot began trying to bottom out inside your warm cunt, but unfortunately his spike was too big for you to take for now.

It felt good. The pain from being so suddenly stretched out around him mixed with the pleasure from his spike hitting all the sweet spots inside you with the very first thrust of his hips.

Bee felt as if he no longer had control over his own body, the feeling of you wrapped around him, your warm cunt so inviting to just ruin it without second thoughts. And he could find absolutely no strength within himself to stop the almost animalistic desire to make you his in every meaning of this word.

His optics were trained on your face for mere seconds before his gaze shifted to the place where your bodies connected, your cunt covered in your own slick, the hole visibly stretched out to take his spike, even if it was only a half of his full length.

The idea of pushing the entire thing in only made him groan, the images of the bulge in your lower stomach he'd create flashing in front of his optics.

He threw his head back when he felt you clench around him, the sensation too much to handle.

You knew he was about to begin pounding into you as if it was the only thing he was made to do, the expression on his face and the look he was giving you the entire time confirming it.

"Bee..." you whined his name, not being fully aware what that sweet tone of your voice was doing to him.

So he just positioned himself better, pressing your thighs harder to your chest, taking almost the entire length of his spike out of your begging cunt, only to slam into you and put even more of him inside you.

You couldn't even control the noises escaping you anymore, your head thrown back because of the overwhelming pleasure.

Bee has had enough of waiting, the memory of him sitting in the corner of this garage, his spike in his servo as he kept fisting himself, overloading onto the hard floor multiple times just to get some relief after having to watch you walk around in your damned little dresses, your hips innocently swaying, your tits deliciously bouncing with every step.

Before you could register it, the robot was destroying your needy cunt with aggressive pounding, feeling as if he able to put more and more inches inside you with every slam of his hips against your ass.

His speed and the way he could hit all the best spots, even though the tip of his spike was kissing your cervix, made you constantly moan out loud, as if the walls of the garage were soundproof.

He kept making noises as well, although his were much deeper, more frustrated, as if he was chasing something he was so closed to catch but right before getting it, it'd just slip away from him.

He thought of this moment for a long time, the pink transfluid painting his servos on many occasions as he was imagining you in this exact position underneath him, squirming in pleasure.

But then, he came up with an even better idea, his body immediately following through, without even analysing it. He stopped mercilessly pounding into you just to manhandle you on your stomach, lifting your backside by your hips, spreading your legs to allow him to penetrate your needy cunt even more deeply. He positioned himself over you, his spike yet again pressing against your core for just a second before finally entering you once more. He didn't even waste time on preparing you to take him, just like the first time he pushed his length inside your pussy.

Now he had the opportunity to properly grope and slap your ass as much as he pleased, his hips constantly hitting it with every hard thrust he'd make. Tears began forming in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being so perfectly stuffed by his spike making you shudder, moan and squirm beneath him.

His movements were rapid and chaotic, but he never slowed down, only increasing his speed, making mental notes of the noises you were making while he was fucking you so good.

"Bee, 't hurts..." you whimpered weakly in-between your loud, slutty moans, him taking it as an encouragement to continue ruining your cunt which was now clenching around him more than ever before. His one servo went to the back of your head tilted to the side, his digits gently stroking your hair as if it was supposed to help ease the pain mixing with pleasure, while the other one was still on your hip, pulling your body towards him at the same time he was pushing at it, making your skins hit each other with even more force.

You told him it hurt you but he couldn't stop.

He felt himself getting closer and closer to overloading, the warmth of your cunt getting sweetly unbearable as his movements became more sloppy, yet still as hard as before.

"Fuck." Curses kept spilling from your sinful mouth, feeling his thick spike throb inside you, indicating that he was probably about to finish.

The discomfort and pain of his metal hips hitting your much softer backside were slowly becoming less and less noticeable as complete pleasure washed over you, making you a wet, moaning mess underneath him.

With his two servos on your hips, he increased the speed of his movements once more, chasing the so desired release.

"Bee, please..." you whined again, your tits bouncing with every thrust, your hardened nipples brushing against the rough floor, "Overload in me..."

Your words were enough to tip him over the edge. With only a few more harsh slams into your tight cunt, he felt himself spurting his thick transfluid into your cervix, multiple groans and whimpers leaving his intake as he did so. He kept fucking the pink liquid into your cunt, not wanting a single drop to escape.

You could still feel his hard, metal hips hitting your ass, all until you clenched around him so tightly, he swore he could overload again just from that sensation alone. You came all over his thick spike, moaning loudly, your body shaking with indescribable pleasure from both his rough pounding as well as the knowledge that his transfluid was deep inside you.

Bee didn't pull out instantly, his thrusts decreasing in speed and force with every passing second, trying to ride out the remains of his and yours overloads.

You were panting and the robot was most definitely overheating, his metal body much hotter in touch than ever before, now his chassis pressed against your back as he began planting gentle kisses to your hair, his vents not being able to catch up.

After a long time that didn't feel long enough for him, he decided to pull away and take his spike out of your core filled with his transfluid, practically begging him to just fuck it again. But now, that his lust for you was somehow taken care of, he could regain the control over his body, and allow you to rest after getting absolutely ruined by him.

You rolled over onto your back yourself, clenching your thighs together when you felt his pink juices flooding out of you, wanting to keep them there for as long as possible. He smiled at your attempts to keep him inside you, the desire growing in his optics once again.

Bee gently wrapped his servos around your bare, exhausted body, lifting you up to place you down on the sofa he was previously occupying with you in his lap. As soon as you felt the plush against the skin of your back, you pulled the robot in your direction with your hands on both sides of his helm, making him bend his body so that you could kiss him passionately for the last time that night, knowing that he was most likely about to leave you to take care of his Autobot duties. He obliged without complaining, ready to slide into you again right then and there. And how disappointed he was when you pulled away with a soft smile, exhaustion finally catching up to you...

The corner of his slips curled up as he looked around in search for something to put on you. An abandoned blanket sitting on a wooden chair since he could remember would do. Before you could even notice he left you alone on the sofa, he was back, covering you from the neck down quickly but still making sure your whole body was under the soft fabric.

"Prime needs you?" you asked in a weak tone, your voice now only confirming how tired you actually were.

Prime needed him but he needed you.

Bee only nodded, to which you responded softly, "I'll stay here." And before he could even give you any sort of a physical confirmation that he got that, you already closed your eyes with a content expression written all over your face.

He smirked to himself, the sweet feeling of finally achieving his goal washing over him, him practically having been able to live in his dreams for a moment. His smile only widened when he came to a realisation...

He finally managed to mark you as his.

don't know if i made it he-lost-control enough but i tried and that's what counts in my books. also, i made it an oneshot but if you wanted separate hcs for these characters ill be more than willing to write it

[toournextadventure]

when you love it pt.2

Summary: Learning to accept yourself again is a hard task. Thankfully, you've got two lovely Outcasts to help you

Word Count: 5.4k Warnings: swearing, talk of blood, typical vampire violence Pairing: Wenclair x Reader (part 1) A/N: Surprise, this is not the last part, there will be one more. So sorry but... it gets better

“Have you ever eaten somebody?”

Ah, there they were. The Little Bane of your existence, as you had come to endearingly call them over the last few months. A menace at best, the little wolf had, for some unknown reason, made it a point to attach themself to your hip. Even on the full moon, the pup would sniff you out and remain with you until they turned back into the headache they truly were.

Admirable.

“Why do you ask?” You asked without looking down to meet their eyes. The eyes of an Addams, you thought.

“Mother said people go insane after eating human flesh,” the child said. “I’m trying to collect evidence to prove her wrong.”

The question was pure Addams.

“I believe it’s only if they eat the brain matter of a human,” you said, finally looking down.

“So you have then?” They asked. “Eaten someone?”

“What do you think?” You asked.

Their head tilted just like Enid's as they thought of an answer. After all this time, you were still finding more and more similarities between them and their mothers. It was almost comical. The toothy grin, the troublesome look in their eyes. A perfect mix of two perfect women.

“No,” they finally said. “I don’t think you have.”

You smiled, showing your fangs. “Correct.”

You both looked back out toward the scenery in front of the cabin. Winter was always the most beautiful time, if anyone asked your opinion. The snow coated the trees in the finest powder, creating an almost constant appearance of fresh snowfall. To the back of the cabin was a lake that froze over so thoroughly, you could skate for hours and never fall through.

Though falling through was always an adventure of its own, you would admit.

Perhaps you could get Enid to skate with you again. Oh, wouldn’t that be grand? It had been ages since you had last danced together upon the shimmering ice. The amount of trust that came with such an act… would you be able to skate as before? Could she put her life in your hands once again?

You deflated; you wouldn’t blame her if she couldn’t.

“Have you ever had blood from someone you know?”

Each cell in your dead body froze.

Teeth ripping through flesh. You could hear the blood pumping from the wounds, pouring out over your hands as you tried desperately to stop the flow. Your own blood cascaded down your throat, erasing any satisfaction you had previously received.

You could still smell the blood. It made your mouth water.

You still wanted more.

“What do you think?” You asked, looking back down at them.

They didn’t look away in contemplation. No, they kept their eyes locked with yours. It was uncomfortable. They had Wednesday’s stunning brown eyes. Eyes you had stared into night after night before watching the light slowly fade from one mistake. Just one.

“Yes,” they said.

“Aunt Yoko’s here!” One of the other children yelled from the house.

You looked back out to the scenery before your Little Bane ran off to join the others.

“Correct,” you mumbled with a sigh.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t forget the feel of her blood falling down your throat. The heat that pooled in your chest and had your dead heart wishing to beat. Each inch of scar tissue embedded in your skin ached at the memory. She’s just inside, your Instincts whispered. Just a sip.

Your lip caught on your fang as you snarled at the thought. An animalistic sound; pathetic. But the sound made you feel as if you could quiet the Instincts. You would not drink from her again. Had it learned nothing from the last time? There was blood in the fridge, you would survive just fine.

Heavy footsteps came up behind you.

“Aunt Yoko wants to speak with you,” your Little Bane said.

You exhaled slowly and nodded to yourself. Of course she would. She had never truly been your biggest fan. Vampires don’t trust other vampires, she had said, if you remembered correctly. Which you did. Her Instincts may have dulled over the generations, but her intelligence remained as sharp as ever.

“Lead the way,” you said.

Your Little Bane’s lip caught on their canine, so reminiscent of Enid you wanted to laugh. At times, the child was pure Addams. Every cell of their being practically screamed it. Yet, at moments like this, you were reminded that Enid was also an Addams in her own right. And that child, though outwardly appearing as Wednesday, was Enid’s little copy.

In the past, Yoko Tanaka had never intimidated you. After all, why would she? Her family had gone soft, adamantly refusing to drink from a source regardless of its humanity; or lack thereof. There had been a few instances during your college years where she had debated your own family beliefs, questioning the primality of it all. And it was, you wouldn’t deny it. Drinking from the source was what your ancestors had done, and the Instinct continued to flow through your veins whether you liked it or not.

You had silently agreed with her, though you would never let her know.

Now, however? After what Enid had jokingly titled The Beatdown - which neither you nor Wednesday found very humorous, but if that was how she coped then who were you to deny her such a trivial thing - Yoko terrified you. And given how she was looking at you as you walked closer…

She was aware of it.

“Tanaka,” you said with a polite nod and smile.

Her arms crossed tighter over her chest.

“In the car, pup,” she said in a tone that contradicted her body language.

“Aunt Div is in my spot,” they said without hesitation.

The immediate change in Yoko’s body was comical. She turned to look into the car where Divina - with whom you shared no ill will, though you knew it was no mutual feeling - was sitting in the front passenger seat. Her head was facing the back of the car where she was, supposedly, talking with the other Addams children.

Yoko rapped her knuckles against the window. “You’re being displaced, babe,” she called out.

Divina’s shoulders slumped, but she promptly unbuckled her sit and got out of the car. The look she gave you was anything but polite as she slid into the middle seat, pushing one of the children into the back. They were all laughing and smiling; truly Enid’s children.

“Good luck,” your Little Bane said to you.

“Thank you,” you mumbled back as they climbed into the car and shut the door, leaving you alone with Yoko.

How enjoyably torturous.

“Hello, Tanaka-”

“-Cut the bullshit,” she interrupted. Straight to the point as always. “No one wants you around them.” Her finger jabbed into your chest. “No one trusts you around them.”

“I understand,” you said.

“No, I don’t think you do.”

A wet gasp-

-snarling-

-relief-

-pain-

“I very much do,” you mumbled.

“I should rip your heart out now and eliminate any chance of the past repeating itself,” she said. Silence hung thick between you before she pulled her arms back to her body. “But I won’t, because Enid would cry and Wednesday would bury me six feet under.”

“This is my house, Tanaka,” you said. “I am more than prepared.”

“You’d better be,” she said as she started moving at a glacial pace toward the driver’s side of the car. “Because I’ll kill you and curse your entire line if you touch a hair on either of their heads.”

The threat was enough to have you shiver. Oh, if you failed and your family was cursed? They would never forgive you. They would start hunting you for sport, and it would be no less than you deserved.

Yoko stopped before opening her door.

“Not that I’ll need to,” she said. “You’re proof Enid can do it herself.”

Her words bounced around your skull as the car finally pulled away, taking all the Addams children with it. A part of you was almost… disappointed. You had grown to tolerate them over the past few months. They were rather enjoyable at times even, constantly inviting you for games. Or movies, once games had quickly become outlawed due to the… unruliness.

“I wish I had gotten another goodbye hug,” Enid said, appearing beside you seemingly out of nowhere.

You should have been able to smell her approach. Wolves were… not the most pleasant. Not horrific, simply not as appealing as humans. She had asked you to describe it once, what the difference was between her and Wednesday. Like a Christmas candle during the heat of summer, you had explained. So not like in Twilight? She had teased.

She’s my Christmas candle, you thought with a smile.

“It’s only for a weekend,” you told her. Her eyes sparkled. “Then you can have hello hugs instead.”

Her smile could have illuminated the world. “I do like hello hugs.”

“Come inside,” you said with a gesture toward the cabin, “I believe it’s going to snow.”

Enid’s joyful disposition had never waned over time. If anything, she almost seemed more joyous and carefree. Something lightened its load on your chest at the observation. You hadn’t ruined her outlook on life. She was, for all intents and purposes, outwardly okay.

A werewolf was across the room, hovering over Wednesday even as it transformed back into a person. Back into Enid. Her bare skin was shredded.

Wednesday was precisely where you had left her earlier; sitting in your small library, a book in hand and a cup of tea on the table. It was one of your more obscure books, having come from your long line of ancestors. In other words, from some murderous Frenchman’s basement. The pages were probably stained with blood.

“I had almost forgotten the joy of silence,” she said as Enid practically fell into her lap. With practised ease, she made way for her wolf without taking her eyes away from the book.

“It’s too quiet,” Enid said with a sigh.

You walked over to the record player you kept in the corner of the room as your married women talked silently amongst themselves. It was endearing to hear them talk of their young. To talk as if they truly loved them. What was that like, you wondered? To care for your young in such a deep, conditionless way?

Cold fingers ran against the thin spines of records in their cases, unsure of where to stop. Would they have ever had children if you had stayed with them? Younglings had never been in your future; you wouldn’t dare bring a child into your bloodline. But they seemed so very happy and content with their choices in life. Perhaps it was going to happen for them regardless.

Without looking, you picked a record out of its case and gently placed it on the player. Could you be trusted around their whelps? The children themselves seemed unconcerned, but what about Enid and Wednesday? Would they trust you? You weren’t even sure if you wanted them to trust you. Children were creatures you had yet to conquer.

You had attacked them. Both of them. The women you loved. They were bleeding out. Because of you.

The beautiful sounds of jazz fell from the record playing, encasing the room in a warmth that had previously been absent. Deep down you knew it wasn’t the music that made the house feel correct. But things were still new - again. You weren’t ready to make that admittance just yet.

“What are the plans for this weekend?” Enid asked when you sat in the second chair in the room. Only a small round end table was situated between you and your girls. Could… you still call them that?

“We should enjoy the silence while we can,” Wednesday said.

Enid huffed. “You know they aren’t that bad, Willa.”

They continued to bicker - lovingly, of course - while you just sat and watched. Unlike the soiree those few months ago, they were far more relaxed. Casual even, if you had to put a word on it.  Enid was bundled in warm clothes - funny, considering she ran hot - and Wednesday was in a simple black sweater and leggings.

Everything about them in that moment reminded you of college. When you would all relax in the evenings. You were usually stuck with your nose in a book, terrified you wouldn’t manage to pass your classes, let alone the bar exam. But you could never properly focus because Enid and Wednesday were always around, bickering like an old married couple even from the very beginning.

Would you ever have that relationship with them again? Simply existing with them without fear of injury or betrayal. Whether it was just you or all of you, there was tension so thick in the air it was suffocating. You didn’t want to keep a tense, cordial relationship with them. Though, it did no good to dwell on the fact. You would respect their wishes until your dying breath.

Something warm grabbed your hand. Something with claws that pressed deep into the palm of your hand. There would be indentations left behind. If she didn’t ease up, perhaps a spot or two of blood. With you, she had never learned to manage her strength; there was no real need.

You never minded.

“What do you normally do?” Enid asked.

You exhaled slowly. “I sit here, listen to jazz, and work.”

“Both of you are so boring,” Enid groaned. “It’s our one full weekend without the kids,” she continued. “We can’t waste it by working.”

“I’m not working,” Wednesday said as she placed the book down on the table and looked at her wife with the softest of smiles. “I’m reading.”

The way they looked at each other was mesmerising. It was pure, unadulterated love. You hadn’t known either of them back when Wednesday was - as Enid so endearingly described - emotionally stunted. You two hadn’t been as outwardly romantic as Enid - she set the bar rather high - but you would’ve never considered her stunted. Especially now, watching the way she looked at her wife.

“We should do something,” Enid said. Her hand squeezed yours; her nails pricked your skin. “All of us.”

“All of us, you say?” You inquired. She glared at you.

“What a scandal,” Wednesday chimed in.

“I forgot how annoying you both are,” Enid mumbled to herself with no attempt to hide her little smile.

Her smile. The thing you had looked forward to seeing every morning before everything had crashed down around you. Even on the worst of days, you knew her smile would be enough to fix everything. Just the same as you hoped you could have fixed everything for her.

Until you couldn’t.

Outside, you could hear the snow starting to fall.

“What is there to do around the cabin?” Wednesday asked; her eyes never left Enid’s. “So our winter wolf doesn’t get too antsy?”

Another squeeze of your hand, digging the sharp, colourful nails deeper.

“Well,” you drew out the word as you thought. “There’s a frozen lake down the path.” Enid’s ears perked up slightly. “Or the town over usually has a winter market around this time.”

That was what did it. At the mention of a market, Enid practically jumped up from Wednesday’s lap. You kept your eyes on her even as you saw Wednesday smile out of your periphery. Her hands clasped together and she looked between the both of you with an excitement you hadn’t seen from her since before that night.

“Grab your winter coats, we’re going to the market!” She proclaimed excitedly.

You looked over at Wednesday with a raised brow but didn’t bother stopping your smile. She smiled back; anything for your wolf.

—---

It had only been a year or two since you had last attended the market and, as such, everyone still remembered you. As such, it was a little more complicated to get through everything than you had initially thought. With everyone stopping you to talk and catch up, you felt like you were holding Enid and Wednesday back as opposed to letting them have their fun.

The sweet older lady who ran the flower shop was still talking to you when you saw Enid walking off, leaving Wednesday to sidle up beside you. Had she done that on purpose? Clearly, she hadn’t just abandoned Wednesday, right? Not in your care, at least. None of you had trusted you two alone just yet.

Even though it hurt, it was a necessary precaution.

Finally, after what had probably been an hour of conversation with the sweet flower lady, you managed to separate with a polite goodbye and a promise to stop by next time you were in town. Whether she knew of your… infliction or not, you had no clue. It didn’t matter. At least she was kind.

“Where did our pup run off to?” You asked as Wednesday all but led you through the market.

“She saw some hot cider,” Wednesday said softly, stopping at one of the little booths. “She can never turn down a sweet treat.”

“Oh, I remember. We spent far too much money on her sweet treats,” you grumbled.

If you had kept track, you would have been horrified at how much both you and Wednesday spent on Enid. It hadn’t been with the intent to brag, or show off, you just wanted her to have everything she wished. Most of the time, that included drinks and sweet treats. And you were nothing if not eager to please.

“At least it’s not chocolate,” Wednesday said in a voice so soft, you wouldn’t have imagined it had actually come from her.

She was looking down at some of the trinkets at the table. They were brilliantly made, and you smiled politely at the woman in charge before standing behind Wednesday. Over her shoulder, you could see it wasn’t particularly anything interesting. Not to her.

Her body tensed up when you brushed against her. This close, you could hear the blood coursing through her veins. It was enticing. More than enticing. Your fingers twitched with the very thought of tasting something so delectable once again. Pain pricked at the inside of your lips as you re-positioned your fangs. It would be a simple thing.

The scars on her neck looked angry; they held shame not even thousands of years of instinct could fight. You had done that to her. You had nearly killed her. She was deathly still as you lifted a shaking hand to lift the collar of her coat, hiding the guilt you could never erase.

“You look cold,” you said softly, pulling your hands back to clasp them behind your back.

You both knew you were lying.

“I’m quite warm, actually,” she said. “I figured you could tell.”

You swallowed loudly. It didn’t ease the ache that was growing in the back of your throat. If anything, it made it worse. Each time she breathed, you could see the pulse in her veins. Enid wasn’t around. Surely you could handle it this time, you were far more mature this go around.

“I still believe I was correct,” she said.

Your head tilted to the side. Correct about what?

“Your fears of being a monster are unwarranted,” she said as she gripped the blade tighter. “You wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Right.

“We must remember that night very differently,” you said as you looked up; there was a mirror in front of you. She couldn’t see you, but you could very well see her. “I remember proving you wrong.”

You weren’t prepared for her to lean back into you. To be touching you after so long. She was cold; not from the snow starting to fall. And as ridiculous as it sounded, she felt like she trusted you. Did she? After you had very nearly killed her, could she trust you?

“You didn’t hurt me,” she said softly as she pulled your arms to wrap around her waist.

“My dear,” you whispered into her ear, “I very much did hurt you.”

“Yet I’m still here.”

You barely held back a laugh. “All that means is Enid kicked my ass.”

“And I would do it again.”

Part of you urged you to pull apart from Wednesday, like you had just been caught doing something you shouldn’t have. There was nothing wrong with holding her again; hell, your girls had practically encouraged it. But the last time Enid had seen you both together was… not pretty.

Wednesday was bleeding out from more than one bite mark.

“What are we talking about?” Enid asked after she practically squeezed herself directly in between you and Wednesday.

“Your sweet treats,” Wednesday said effortlessly. “Is it worth it?”

She wrapped her hands around the paper cup and shrugged her shoulders high. “Always.”

“I think there’s some chocolate covered strawberries a few booths away,” you said while Enid continued to shimmy her way into more warmth. “White and dark chocolate.” Both women’s eyes lit up. “My treat.”

Wednesday looked at you with soft eyes. A look she hadn’t given you since… it was nice. Without uttering a single word, you were left with a warmth in your chest that your dead heart could never replicate.

“Lead the way,” she said softly.

—---

For reasons unknown to you or Wednesday, Enid was still freezing hours after getting back to the cabin. Hot tea had been made. And remade. And remade again. Then you had finally given in and lit the fireplace, as well as setting up a pallet on the floor in front of it so she could curl up and try to warm her fur.

And she was still shivering.

“Cara mia, please.” Wednesday’s voice carried from the living room to the kitchen. “Will nothing ease your cold?”

Enid hummed. “I know something that could warm me up.”

Her quiet giggle was all you needed to hear to know what she was implying. Your darling pup was the most insatiable creature you had ever had the pleasure of knowing. Perhaps that was why she seemed to fit so well with two other partners; it would take at least two to keep her satisfied.

Outside, the front porch creaked. If you hadn’t already been accustomed to the sound, you would have brushed it off as wind. After all, it was still snowing steadily outside. But it wasn’t the sound of snow falling onto the porch. No, it was something else. Something that wasn’t supposed to be there.

In the living room, you could still hear the soft sounds of Enid and Wednesday enjoying their time together. As you passed, you could vaguely see them on the pallet in front of the fireplace. Every aspect of it reminded you of your times in university, each living your own lives, yet doing it together. Perhaps you could get back to that again. Surely their children wouldn’t mind another… parent? Hmm, that wasn’t quite right, you could figure it out-

“-Hello, bon ami.”

If you hadn’t been frozen in place, you would have slammed the door in his face. What the hell was he doing? In your home? No, he wasn’t supposed to be there. He was supposed to be back home, hunting humans for sport like everyone else. He knew better.

“You gonna let me in?” He asked in his thick accent that charmed some and repulsed others.

“Go home, Bas,” you said quietly.

“Why? You got company?” He inhaled deeply. “Oh, I’m a’comin’ in.”

He pushed his way past you into the cabin. If your mind hadn’t felt like mush, you would have had the good sense to stop him. Or at least to have warned Enid and Wednesday. But no, you were simply stuck wondering how he had even found you in the first place.

“I smell a rougarou.” His smile was sadistic and his fangs were sharp. Lethal. “What if Daddy found out, huh?”

“How about some tea?” You asked, gesturing to the kitchen.

He tilted his head to the side and looked at you. Just looked. Was that what Wednesday had seen in you that night? No, surely you had been more vicious. Nothing curious about you, that was for sure.

“Got some of that boudin left?” He asked.

You nodded once.

“Lead the way.”

He continued to look around as you did your best to lead him as far away from your girls as possible. If he wanted to make a pop-in visit, fine. But you weren’t going to let him torment everyone else in the cabin. He could have a cup of tea, some boudin, and be on his way back home.

“Make it the good way?” He asked as he practically fell into one of the chairs at the table. “I’d hate to have to help myself in this house of yours.”

Without waiting for him to finish, you tossed a bag of blood onto the table. It slid across the smooth wood until stopping directly in front of him. He didn’t even look down, just kept his cold eyes glued to yours.

“Keep your teeth to yourself,” you said.

He laughed while you turned back to the stove. The sooner you got the tea going and could get him fed, the sooner he would leave. That was all you really wanted. Things were going well, and Enid and Wednesday were in good moods. You didn’t need him to ruin it.

The stove lit with a single spark, and you gently placed the kettle on top. It would still take a minute to boil, and you had it all planned out. You would grab the blood and boudin from the fridge. Put the food in the oven, make the tea, and get him fed and out of your house.

But you should have known better.

“I smell meat,” Enid said as she practically skipped into the kitchen.

And stopped short when she saw someone at the table.

“Oh, couyon,” he said with a smile toward you once Wednesday walked in. “You naughty thing, you.”

You sighed and crossed your arms over your chest. Wednesday was looking at you with her “explain Or Else” look. Something you hadn’t minded before, but now? Now it made your skin crawl. Like spiderwebs caught on every inch of your body, and you couldn’t get them off.

The pan slid smoothly into the oven, and you started the timer.

“This is Bastien,” you said with a lazy gesture toward the parasite at the end of the table. “My brother.”

“Baby brother,” he corrected quickly. “And you two must be the delectable little snacks.”

“Told you to keep your teeth to yourself,” you said with a raised brow. You quickly looked at Enid with far softer eyes. “Food will just be a few more minutes.” Then to Wednesday. “I’m making tea.”

Carefully, slowly, both Enid and Wednesday sat down at the table. Across from each other, but not near Bastien. The whole time, he watched them like a predator. Biding his time, the way he had been taught. You met his eyes.

His gaze towards your girls turned softer.

“So,” Bastien said as you turned back to the stove and grabbed the kettle. “Which one of you gave my sweet sibling all those scars?”

You poured some blood into the bottom of two mugs.

“I did,” Enid said. “So don’t try anything or you’ll have some to match.”

Bastien howled; a deep, obnoxious belly laugh. It… was nice to hear. As much as you didn’t want him there, he was your brother. Baby brother, as he constantly reminded you. There was comfort in the sound of his laugh; there always had been.

“That’s good, I like that,” he said, still failing to keep his laughter in check. “So that means your witch was the blood bag.”

You practically slammed the mug onto the table in front of Bastien. He looked up at you again, tilting his head to the side. It reminded you of Enid. He reminded you too much of Enid. No, you weren’t going to be phased. You knew the vampire charm; you wouldn’t fall for it.

“Serve yourself,” you demanded.

“Come on, cher,” he said as you proceeded to pour tea into Wednesday’s and Enid’s mugs. “I’m just askin’ if that’s what you almost died for.” You set the teapot on the table and walked back to the oven. “Simple curiosity.”

“Almost died?” Enid asked.

You didn’t turn around.

“The scars didn’t give it away?” Bastien asked.

You grabbed the kitchen counter.

“How did you know?” Wednesday asked.

He started talking, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t have to. The entire night was engraved into every fold of your brain, etched into the walls of your skull. No amount of alcohol, or nicotine, or blood, or the occasional line would erase. It stayed there, taunting you. Teasing you.

Blood pumped in your ears. It was loud, but not loud enough to ease the growls and screams that were bouncing off your skull. The trees soared past you. Each step of your foot was jarring as it practically bounced off the hard ground.

Wednesday’s blood still coated your lips.

The pain in your throat was harsh; it wouldn’t heal fast enough to ease the ache. Miles and miles flew by without you ever noticing. The sun rose, then set, then rose, and finally set again. Each new day was a blur. It didn’t matter. It couldn’t matter.

You hoped Enid was okay.

And Wednesday was alive.

Oh. The thought of Wednesday, lying there with your teeth marks in her flesh. Blood pooling around her; her life pooling around her. All because of you. Because of you. You killed her. You killed one of the loves of your life.

Panting breaths came faster. You killed her. Everything slowly came to a stop. The bark was rough under your fingers as you leaned against a tree to stay upright. Around you, the bugs from the bayou were loud in your ears. Still not louder than the fight.

You killed her.

Possibly killed Enid as well.

You killed them both.

Something scratched against the soft tissue inside your throat. It grew and grew until you couldn’t tell where your exterior wounds ended and the interior ones began. Only when you inhaled deeply did you discover the cause.

“What you screamin’ for, cher?” Daddy said, appearing out of thin air. Or directly in front of you. You didn’t know. “Thought you were up at that fancy university of yours.”

“Looks like you brawled with a hunter, little monster,” Bastien said. “Did you at least get a snack out of it?”

A snack.

Wednesday.

You leaned over and expelled every bit of blood you had gotten into your body. It didn’t make you feel any better. If anything, it only exacerbated the sharp pain in your chest to see just how much you had taken from her. From your girl. Your Wednesday.

A chunk of the countertop broke off in your hand. The kitchen went silent. You blinked slowly before looking down. It wouldn’t be an easy fix. But you could do it, it would just take a weekend or two. Hopefully you wouldn’t have to replace the entire counter.

“Boudin’s burnin’, cher,” Bastien said softly from beside you. When had he gotten there? “Go sit down, I got it.”

Niceties would get him nowhere. And yet, you still went and sat at the table between Enid and Wednesday. They were looking at you, you could feel it. But you couldn’t take your eyes away from the scar on Wednesday’s hand.

The scars you had caused.

You killed her.

“I know I asked for dinner,” Bastien said, “but I think I should head out for the night.” His hand rested on your shoulder; it was cold and soft. “It was nice meeting you both.”

He leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss to your cheek. His lips - much like you believed of your own - were cold. It wasn’t long before he pulled away. His footsteps were loud against the wooden floor, slowly getting softer and softer until the door opened and clicked shut.

Leaving you alone with your two girls.

Your two girls you nearly killed.

A monster.

[flwrkid14]

Love, in All its Impossible Forms

Tim Drake loves with everything he has. He always has. And maybe that’s his fatal flaw—he doesn’t know how to hold back. He throws himself into it the way he throws himself into everything else: completely, recklessly, without a second thought for his own safety.

But love, for Tim, is never simple. It comes in forms that twist and tangle, leaving scars even as it gives him something to hold onto. And if you ask him, he could probably tell you exactly what kinds of love he’s experienced.

There’s love that is doomed.

Steph was chaos, energy, and unrelenting determination wrapped in a bright smile. She was Tim’s equal and his opposite all at once, and when he loved her, he did so fiercely, wholeheartedly. She didn’t just step into his world—she tore through it, unapologetic and unstoppable, showing Tim a version of himself that didn’t have to be so calculated, so controlled.

But their lives were chaos, a whirlwind of masks and missions, and when the dust settled, there was never enough left of them to make it last. Tim loves her in a way that feels like holding sand; no matter how tightly he grips, she keeps slipping through his fingers. And maybe that’s why he held on so hard—because he knew she’d never stay. Steph was never meant to be tamed, and Tim loved her too much to try.

Even when it ends, there’s no anger, no resentment. They don’t blame each other for the way things fall apart. They don’t have to. They always knew, deep down, that no matter how much they wanted to hold on, it was never meant to last. It wasn’t about a lack of love—it was about the world they lived in, the lives they led, and the way they could never quite fit together the way they needed to.

Steph was the love that burned brightly but couldn’t last, no matter how much either of them wanted it to. She was the fire he couldn’t hold onto, the storm he couldn’t contain, and the one who left her mark on him in ways he’d never forget. They were love, doomed from the start.

Then there's love that dooms them.

Kon wasn't just Tim's best friend—he was everything. A partner in every sense of the word. Loving Kon felt like second nature, so easy and so effortless that Tim didn't realize how deeply it ran until it was too late. Until Kon was gone.

When Kon died, it destroyed Tim. Grief didn't come in waves-it came in obsessions.

Tim couldn't let go, so he didn't. He turned to stolen data and secret labs, creating clone after clone in a desperate attempt to fill the void Kon left behind

It wasn't about moving on. It wasn't about closure. It was about holding on to the only person who ever made Tim feel like he could breathe, even when it was killing him to do so.

When Kon returned, whole and alive, it should have been everything Tim had dreamed of. But the shadows of what Tim had done lingered between them. The lengths he went to, the obsession that fueled him—it left cracks in the foundation of what they once were. Kon loved Tim, he always would, but part of him wondered if he'd ever been loved for who he was, or for what Tim couldn't let himself lose.

And Tim, for all his brilliance, couldn't figure out how to bridge the gap he'd created. He oved Kon with everything he had, but love born out of desperation carried its own weight, and he wasn't sure how to lay it down.

So they stayed in the gray space between what they were and what they could have been, bound by love so fierce it hurt, but too fractured to fully mend. They were doomed by their love.

Finally, there’s love that dooms anybody else.

Danny is chaos, but not the kind that breaks Tim—it’s the kind that grounds him. Danny exists between worlds, between life and death, and yet he’s more alive than anyone Tim has ever met. He doesn’t fit neatly into any box, doesn’t follow any rules, and yet there’s something about him that feels inevitable, like gravity or the pull of the tide.

Danny doesn’t ask for Tim’s sacrifices. He doesn’t need to be saved, doesn’t want Tim to burn himself out in the name of love. Instead, Danny challenges Tim to slow down, to stop trying so hard to hold the world together and just be. With Danny, Tim learns how to live in the moment, how to breathe without feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It isn’t an easy love, but it isn’t supposed to be. It’s a love that demands courage, the kind that doesn’t come from donning a cape or taking a hit for someone else. It’s the courage to be vulnerable, to stop hiding behind plans and strategies, and let someone see every cracked, raw piece of himself. Danny is relentless in breaking down Tim’s walls, not to fix him but to show him that he’s worthy of being whole.

Together, they are something untouchable. Their love is an anchor and a storm, a lighthouse and the waves crashing against the shore. It’s a love so big, so consuming, that it leaves no room for anything else.

And that’s where the doom lies.

They are the kind of love that consumes the world around them, leaving it scorched and battered in their wake. Not because they want to hurt anyone, but because their connection is so fierce, so all-encompassing, that nothing else can survive in its shadow. They are the eye of the hurricane, calm and steady, while everything outside is chaos.

It’s the kind of love that makes people ache to touch it, to understand it, even as it destroys them. The kind of love that people will write stories about and linger in though, long after the last page has turned. Love, that will echo through time in whispers and legends. But no one will ever truly understand it, because no one else could ever bear the weight of it.

Danny is the love that makes Tim believe he might deserve to be happy after all. Together, they are the love that dooms anybody else—unapologetic, overwhelming, and utterly unforgettable.

[cheralith]

— these violent delights

feat ; director!nanami kento x assistant director!reader | word count ; 1.9k contains ; gn!reader, no pronouns used, angst, pining (men who yearn are men who earn), mild making out (suggestive) a/n ; some minor errors possible sorry! (シ_ _ )シ

RENOWNED WORLD CLASS DIRECTOR KENTO NANAMI commands his production teams of every movie he creates with an iron fist, and his hard work pays off considering the majority of his films and their actors have been nominated for tonys, BAFTAs, golden globes, you name it. and when it's rumored that he'll be directing his largest project yet—a modern re-enactment of romeo and juliet. it's no doubt that many people are anticipating for its arrival, considering that despite shakespeare's most famous production having multiple versions, but nanami's style of production is distinct that it will for sure stand alone as its own film that isn't just another lazy and cliche remake.

which is why the production studio figures that he may need some extra aid, which is why they hand-pluck an upcoming creative genius that may just rival his own—a young filmmaker a few years fresh out of grad school. your short films have won some minor awards since you earned your first degree and the studio thought that your mind with his would be a perfect match.

and ultimately, they're right. introductions were a little awkward, of course, it was clear you were trying not to burst at the seams when you met one of your all-time favorite directors, but you eventually prove yourself worthy and dependable. your input proves to be the most valuable out of everyone's on the team. nanami seems to only listen to you whenever he needs a second opinion, blatantly shooing away anyone else in line.

you work with nanami privately at times, joining him at his townhouse to discuss the next project on the movie. others that have worked with him for a while have never seen the normally stoic and stern director be so... warm to another person before. even his closest colleagues often don't see nanami so unbelievably attentive when someone suggests for him to do something even the slight bit different from what we original had in mind.

"i don't know," you murmured to him once, shifting the different panels of the storyboard around. "i think we can have this scene first, it'd build more suspense."

from behind you, nanami grew quiet, scanning the order of the frames before nodding and agreeing and gently cupping your smaller hand that grips the plastic frame, shifting it backwards. "i agree, i think having a pause between romeo and juliet's first interactions will keep the viewers on their toes just a while longer. especially since that's what they're all waiting for."

it was clear to everyone—except you and nanami—that there was something more between you and him. it was difficult to hold a conversation with nanami that wasn't about the film production, but when you spend the first few shy hours of the morning yapping about a new restaurant you visited over the weekend, it shocked everyone when he showed you a soft smile and said he'd like to visit it sometime (he says the "with you" part in his head).

his affections for you were rather apparent, considering he'd always ask aloud, "where's my AD?" before shooting every single scene, like your approval was the only one that mattered. at some points in time during the production, some of the crew members witnessed you and him alone at certain moments both in and out of the studio. you ate lunch with him, went out with him for a seemingly casual dinner, usually worked on him alone in his trailer that was always locked to him and him alone, until one stage manager discovered you had a spare key to it when you fetched a spare script for him that he left on his desk.

rumors spread fast, but when interrogated about it, nanami simply told them that he just wanted to help out an aspiring young director out by his own means.

"a potential like that must be nurtured in the best possible way," he'd retort. "rest assured that everything is professional between us. teetering that line benefits no one."

but oh, how nanami despised saying that. how nanami wish those rumors of you being his secret lover were true, that you and him had a relationship beyond just mere co-workers. how you and him consistently teeter the lines between what is appropriate. how he so badly wants to cross it with you, envelope you in his arms and kiss you just as passionately as romeo and juliet did when they first met at the ball.

you're a more free version of him, more passionate, more loving—all the things he wishes he was more. his ideas and ways of going about were traditional, but he found a spark with how rambunctious and spontaneous you were. he adored how you would do something on the whim and how so utterly unique your ideas were. he'd never met anyone like you before.

he caught himself staring at your back when you carefully direct the actors in such a way that accomplishes his vision in one-go, how you weren't afraid to try new things to see what would happen. you were poised and meticulous about your craft, despite your disposition. and it proved to be more difficult than it seemed when nanami tried to fight his affections off for his assistant director.

because at the end of the day, he knew you and him were much too different. he knew that it would be unprofessional to be running about behind scenes with a fellow, esteemed co-worker, knowing how that may look to everyone else; a younger, amateur director fooling around with a distinguished, honored one. while you were only a sparse few years younger than him, from the naked eye, you could just simply be another young creative using their charm to get ahead in the game, despite nanami knowing all too well you had more than just charisma to you and that there was no such flattery involved between your relationship.

and even though his own films their actors have been nominated and won a plethora of awards, he has yet to receive a credential of his own name. all of nanami's work and energy was pouring into this project to prove himself as a director worthy of one of the highest titles the film industry could offer—the academy award for best director. love is distracting, relationships are distracting. and he can't be having distractions for his most highly-anticipated film yet.

he can't afford to ruin his and your reputations at the cost of his pleasure, for these violent delights and have violent ends.

he knows he should put a distance between you and him. that the line of professionalism and personalism should be kept strictly at bay.

until it all comes tumbling down one night. choosing to film the most tense scenes last so the actors had proper time to get comfortable with each other, you and him are quietly rehearsing a very loose version of act two, scene two—the famous balcony scene—to properly get a grasp of what he was looking for before the official shooting.

you're seated beside him on the couch, a script for each of you, rehearsing the lines of a longing juliet. "how camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore? the orchard walls are high and hard to climb."

your eyes flicker up when you pause, your former diction faltering a bit when you notice his hazel eyes staring at you so... warmly through his reading glasses, as if he's hanging on to each and every word despite hearing these lines a plethora of times.

"um," you clear your throat, feeling a slight shiver go down your spine when you and him bump knees on the couch, neither of you moving. "a-and the place death, considering who thou art, if any of my kinsmen find thee here."

nanami adjusts his script before speaking his lines as romeo.

"with love's light wings, did i o'erperch these walls," he begins and you quietly admire at how punctual his delivery is when he delivers his lines. his eyes go up to share your gaze again and he curses himself when he briefly looks at your lips, plump and almost inviting.

suddenly he remembers how close you are to him, that only a hairs breadth lie between your body and his. amidst the yellow light of the lamp and the quiet night that stirs outside the trailer, suddenly you appear a little more beautiful than usual.

"... kento?" you call out quietly, tilting your head oh-so charmingly to the side when he falters from his continuing line. the way you say his name startles him, even though he's been allowing you to call him on a first-name basis for a few months now. but even though, it stills feels so right when you say it.

"sorry," he coughs, adjusting his glasses and returning his gaze back to the script. "for stony limits cannot hold love out; and what love can do..."

he can't help himself. his head doesn't budge, but his eyes still return back to your visage, where a look of what seems to be yearning is painted over. he swallows. although he's reading these lines as romeo, something about them seems so sentimental that he feels like he's saying it to you directly, not juliet.

without looking back at the script and instead, meeting your eyes, he mutters, "... that dares love attempt."

it's your turn to swallow thickly, trying your absolute best to regulate your shallow breathing as his body nears yours.

he knows, he knows damn well that there's still the line between you and him. it wears down with every interaction he has to you to his dismay, and it still stands before you and him, but it's thin. it's so thin that it's barely there. akin to a strand from a spider's web, all nanami has to do is wave it over and it's knocked down—it's just his decision whether he wants to leave it alone and let it stand as it or destroy it down completely from his urges.

his body moves on his own. with the only border separating you two being the space between the two couch cushions you and him sit on, he crosses it with his arm that is moving on its own to the warmth of your cheek. his mind is screaming to not go further, to respect the line, to ensure no distractions, to secure that academy award, but his heart's longing overpowers it, and nanami isn't so sure if he wants to silent it. not when you look this ethereal from the light of the lamp.

you don't seem frightened. you're actually allowing him to do what he wants, and that you don't move away when his hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb stroking the cusp of your cheekbone so tenderly, so lovingly.

"therefore," he whispers, his skin on fire when your own hand goes to hold his that holds your face in the same manner. your eyes hold a certain longing, one that he mirrors from behind his reading glasses.

the line reduces to an invisible, flimsy string.

"...thy kinsmen," he brings your face closer to his and he drops his script entirely on the floor, your own following shortly after. the distance closes in; it's still there, but it's so small enough that you're able to feel his breath on your lips, and the gap between you shrinks with each millisecond. up until your hearts conjoin as one with each other through your chests.

"... are no stop to me."

the line is now nothing but a concept.

and he kisses you so deeply, hungrily, ardently. until his lungs are pining for air other than your own. parting is such sweet sorrow, indeed, because when you disconnect from him for a brief moment, it only takes a short second before nanami pulls you into him again.

[chogiwow]

before our lips touch | enhypen, hyung line.

silent vulnerable moments that lead up to the kiss. 

pairing: gn!reader x hyung line enha genre: fluff, angst, hurt/comfort wc: 3.9k+ warnings: a lottttt of kissing, gets heated, suggestive, mentions of blood and wounds in jay's part, reader can be a bit hard on themselves, mentions of alcohol in jake's part, an argument in sunghoon's part a/n: ya'll sumn happened ig but i wrote this all in one sitting and its been so long since i've written im surprised i was able to string words together coherently.

heeseung // the kiss that brings quiet to your chaos.

heeseung watches through the mirror, the glazed spots on its surface blurring you slightly from his vantage point on the bed. his eyes follow the deliberate way your fingers smooth lip balm over your lips, a soft, languid motion matching the rhythm of the rain tapping against the windows. the dim light bathes you in a golden hue, like a scene out of an old romantic movie. you’re beautiful, and you don’t even know it – that’s what gets him every time.  

you approach the bed, the glow of the bedside lamp casting shadows on the rain-speckled window. the storm outside creates a soothing rhythm, the sound of water wrapping the room in a cocoon of calm. lifting the covers, you slip in beside him, your movements heavy with a quiet fatigue that lingers in your bones.  

the mattress dips under your weight, and heeseung shifts instinctively, his freshly showered warmth seeping into your skin as his arm drapes over your waist. his damp hair carries the faint scent of your shared body wash, a scent so familiar it feels like home. you press closer, the subtle chill from the rain fading as his body heat encases you.  

his hand moves in slow, unthinking patterns along your back, the weight of his touch grounding you in a way nothing else can.  

your exhaustion shows in the way you sink into him, as if letting go of a weight you’ve carried all day. heeseung watches the delicate flutter of your lashes, the softened curve of your lips. he doesn’t touch your face, though the temptation is there—he simply lets you come to him, offering quiet comfort.  

your breathing shifts, deepens, and heeseung feels the faint tremor of your sigh as it escapes. the sound pulls something in him, a quiet ache that makes him tighten his hold on you ever so slightly. his lips find their way to your neck, the kisses he leaves there slower, heavier.  

there’s a vulnerability in the way you melt into him, a kind of trust that heeseung holds delicately, like it might shatter if he pushes too hard. you’ve always been guarded, giving only what feels safe. but with heeseung, you let go in ways you don’t with anyone else, and he treasures those moments like fragile glass.  

heeseung’s hand slides up to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading through your hair. he tips your face toward his, pausing for a heartbeat, his lips hovering so close that you feel the warmth of his breath. there’s no rush, no urgency – just a quiet anticipation hanging in the air.  

when his lips finally meet yours, it’s as if the world slows to a stop. the kiss is soft at first, tender and searching, like he’s memorizing the shape of your mouth. the rain outside fades into the background, its rhythm a distant murmur compared to the unspoken conversation unfolding between you.  

he deepens the kiss, his movements unhurried but sure, his lips fitting perfectly against yours as though they were made to. there’s a sweetness in the way he kisses you, a deliberate care in how his mouth moves over yours. he invites rather than demands, coaxing you to meet him halfway, to let go in the safety of his touch.  

when your lips part slightly, he takes the opportunity to taste you more fully. his tongue brushes against yours, soft and slow, drawing a quiet gasp from your throat. heeseung smiles against your mouth, the curve of his lips betraying his satisfaction at the way you respond to him.  

the kiss deepens but never loses its tenderness. his hand cups your face, thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he tilts your head to deepen the angle. he kisses you like he’s pouring something of himself into you, something steady and grounding, a balm for the chaos you carry inside.  

you sigh into his mouth, your body relaxing further against his. heeseung’s other hand presses against the small of your back, pulling you closer, as if the space between you is still too much. his lips slow again, brushing over yours in soft, lingering kisses, savoring every moment, every touch, every breath.  

he doesn’t rush or ask for more than you’re ready to give. instead, he holds you with a patience that feels infinite, his touch steady as his thumb brushes along your waist. when he kisses you again, it’s slower, deeper, the kind of kiss that speaks without words.  

the tension in your body dissolves completely under his touch, your breaths coming softer, your head tipping back slightly to grant him more access. heeseung doesn’t need permission; he takes what you offer with quiet gratitude, his lips tracing the lines of your collarbone, the hollow of your throat.  

your skin warms against his, the rain outside a muted symphony matching the rhythm of his movements. every kiss, every caress, carries deliberate softness, as though heeseung is reminding you that with him, you don’t have to carry anything alone.  

time feels suspended in these moments, the space between breaths filled with unspoken emotions. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, anchoring yourself to him. heeseung smiles faintly against your skin, his lips pressing against the pulse in your neck.  

when you finally lift your head to meet his gaze, there’s a quiet understanding in his eyes. the storm inside you has quieted, replaced by the steady rhythm of rain and the warmth of his arms around you. heeseung presses one last kiss to your temple, his touch lingering as he holds you close, his embrace a haven from everything else.

jay // the kiss that is a reassurance.

life hasn't been kind to you this week. but it's a particularly hard day today. you're exhausted and drained but even as the day progresses, you can feel the heaviness sagging in your bones, pulling you down.

and however good you might be at resisting gravity, jay has an uncanny way of just knowing when you're fighting. yet all you do is seek him across the room to pass him a tired smile. no call for help, not an inkling of a hand stretched out to seek him. it makes jay clench his jaws. why won't you ask for help?

but maybe, it's something in jay's nature that is cautious of downplaying your own efforts, so he approaches you gently, like a silent breeze that soothes your soul.

the kitchen is the last place you want to be in right now, but you're still adamant in doing your part, knife in hand, chopping mindlessly. jay can tell you're not really here, his eyes watching warily as your fingers stumble across the chopping board and as if he had brought ill upon you just by imagining it, the blade slips and cuts your skin. the blood starts staining every surface it touches but you just stand there, finally… finally feeling something after a whole week of numbness.

the sting is almost welcoming, jay's footsteps silent as he reaches out and carefully maneuvers your hands away from more damage. you're quiet even as he seats you on the stool, the box of appendages appearing out of nowhere. as if those silly bandages could patch you up.

but they do patch you up. in a way that almost shames you to let yourself be taken care of. in the way jay’s fingers are nimble against yours, blowing soft puffs of wind as he presses against the cut with cotton. it stings. it stings, it stings, it stings.

i can take care of myself.

your eyes are burning, staring at the ground, looking anywhere but into the eyes of a lover that seeks you and your pain. anywhere but into the eyes of a thirsty man that wants to drink your pain away. anywhere but into the eyes of the sailor who lets you rest in his boat while he paddles you away from it all gently.

but you can't look away. not when jay himself anchors his fingers under your chin and makes you look.

i know you can take care of yourself. but i’m here now. so let me.

and you're falling to the ground, surrendering to gravity as jay catches you before you meet your end. his lips catch you midway, prying your weak skin open with a gentle push as he lets you relax in his hold. he'll do the work. he'll do it all for you. all you have to do is let him.

and you do let him. you let him hold your face in his hands like he's holding a broken vase, you let his lips worship you like a fallen goddess, a silent prayer of devotion to you and only you, no matter how much you've fallen from your self imposed grace.

and he worships you well. he lets you sob in his hold, kissing away the pain of the wound on your skin. when your body sags, he picks you up and seats you on his lap but you are so scared.

is it really fine to allow yourself this love? is it really okay to depend on someone like this? your hands fist up his shirt, creasing and wrinkling the fabric, a gasp of a sob escaping your lips when it rubs against your wound again, red staining the fabric. but you're so scared, you don't let go. even though it hurts, even with your mind yelling at you to let go, you don't.

it's only jay’s own fingers that manage to curl up against yours, prying them apart one by one and kissing them one by one. it's okay to let yourself go.

he's as slow as he is calm, a pace you revel in. his hold an anchor that keeps you upright against gravity, your knees pressing against his sides as he engulfs you whole. if there was a way you could become a part of him, you think this might be the closest you had gotten to it.

his lips find solace again on yours, tongue swiping and sliding into your hot mouth that stifles a moan of his name. he's letting you set the pace to your content, sighing into your mouth while you crumble around him in a mess. your hands find purchase across his chest, smoothening the shirt you had wrinkled, a tiny apology.

he's quick to quiet you down, swallowing your sobs and biting your lips till the whimpers of your apology turn into those of longing. till you seek his lips yourself without holding yourself back.

you're his to take care of, body on body, skin on skin; you want to be taken care of. and all jay wants is to worship you.

it's calming to lose yourself in his touch, his hands that roam across your skin, squeezing, caressing, loving. it burns everywhere he touches. it burns to let yourself be loved like this. it burns to love this deeply.

and when your lips part, his warm breath fans your stinging lips, his own skin shades deeper than before. a silent offering of his love for you, stamped like red ink on his lips.

you let yourself be kissed deep into the night as your finger stops bleeding and the sting is long forgotten.

jake // the kiss that says you want each other. 

the summer night is only accentuated by the faraway sounds of traffic as you lay across jake on his bedroom floor, a decision almost mutually agreed upon to savor the cool tiles under your skin to beat the heat after drinking to mark the end of another week you survived uni.

jake is fast asleep, or so you think. you let your gaze follow the curve of his face, the slope of his nose, the lines of his lips and like many nights, you quietly gulp down the longing that bubbles up in your chest. it's been this way for so long, you've lost track of the endless number of times you've let yourself fall asleep like this, gazing at your friend, hoping to be something more than just that.

but tonight, just tonight, it's a little different. maybe it's the empty bottles of beer on the coffee table, your blood still warm and mind still dazed. just tonight, you let yourself reach out for jake's flushed cheeks and run a gentle finger across his plump skin.

his eyes flutter open and almost abashedly, you retract your hand. but maybe you shouldn't have. maybe you should have just let your fingers caress him back to sleep. maybe then jake would not be pushing himself up and catching hold of your hand while he hovered above you. maybe you shouldn't have drunk tonight.

your shoulders press against the cool tile floor when jake pins you down, his own slender fingers circling your wrist as he holds it down gently beside your head. your t-shirt rises up along the movement, a restricted hiss swallowed by your lips when your skin touches the cool tiles, but somehow it seems to burn you, just the way jake's gaze, which seemed to have solace on your lips do. they tremble in anticipation – what if it's just the alcohol? 

your chest rises with every breath you struggle to keep quiet but it's a task that gets harder with jake's eyes tracking the movement. your cheeks burn instantly, audible swallowing and the sound feels loud in the intense quietness of the room.

but jake is long gone now, even if he wants to repress the burning urge that tightens his chest to let you go, he can't. he can't do that anymore, not when you lie under him like that, eyes glossy and lips trembling and chest heaving. maybe it is the empty bottles of beer on his table, but he thinks they might have just been a catalyst.

what do you want? he'll give it to you all. even if you ask him to let go, even if you push him away, he will let you. but what do you want? what is he supposed to feel when you run your fingers across his cheeks like that? when you look at him as if you're silently begging for something you won't allow yourself? when your lips let out a shaky breath that carries his name so sweetly?

“jake…”

i want you, you, you.

your free hand moves on its own accord, finding home against his cheeks. his skin is warm under your touch, his eyes burn you down to the ground with a silent plea though. your thumb traces his lower lip, tremblingly resting at the corner. can't he see you want him? would he want you too? right now, as you lay under him, breathing for him, trembling for him, craving for him?

but don't you see the way he visibly shudders under your soft touch? the way his lips twitch when you trace them so? the way his chest tightens when your eyes gloss over, the fear in them written so clearly, he has to hold his breath, afraid that he might make you cry?

his own hand cups your cheek reassuringly; it's not just the alcohol.

i want you too.

warm breath fans across your lips, the distance moments ago closed and your lips slot together like pieces of puzzles finally in place.

you don't push him away, you don't ask him to stop. instead, you pull him closer, your hands anchoring themselves around his shoulders as your lips shiver against each other in a feverish symphony.

his lips are soft and all consuming, it's a sensation you have craved for so long, now that you can feel it, it's like a thirst being quenched. he draws out sounds from you that make you want to bury yourself alive but when his hands slide down to your waist, they ground you silently, tethering you to him in a way that makes you let him do whatever he wanted to you.

jake is relentless, unforgiving as he sucks and licks and bites, your soft skin is his to devour, his to relish. he swallows your groans like a hungry man;  you'd almost think he was punishing you for making him wait so long, but then just as suddenly as he ravished you, his movements slow down. he pulls apart, but only to give a moment of relief, an obligatory allowance of a breath much required before his lips find themselves painting your face with kisses. your eyes, your cheeks, your jaw, the shell of your ears, and finally your lips again, swallowing your sighs and gasps as his tongue follows yours and god, you taste like nectar. you're a sweet poison he lets himself partake in, knowing too damn well that this was only the start of his addiction.

the night, it seems, had only started and jake is determined to memorise the feel of your lips between his and the sound of your craving etched in his heart. (and it's definitely not because of the empty bottles of beer.)

sunghoon // the kiss that begs for forgiveness.

the aftermath of the argument is a silent storm brewing.

the air in the car is stifling, the silence bone deep and if you tried, you could cut through it in one swipe. it's one of those stupid arguments again, but you're too peeved, too annoyed to try and make amends.

sunghoon is no better, he is already a man of few words but when you decide to stop talking, his throat itches to speak. to apologise, whether it was his fault or not, whether you cared or not.

your face is turned away, illuminated by the glow of headlights and sunghoon aches all over. he aches all over for a piece of you, your forgiveness, your attention, your touch. just you. damn it, he would carve his chest if he could to have you yell at him or sulk at him. but you're so relentlessly cold right now and sunghoon wonders if this was worth it.

he’s quiet though, letting the silence fester, knowing he will be the one abating your cold anger. but for now he lets you be, his only initiative of a truce in the way his hand sneaks its way across your thigh, resting firmly but kindly across your skin. your limbs stiffen, but you don’t pull away, letting him drive quietly with his other hand clutching on to the steering wheel.

it maddens you to no end, knowing that sunghoon consciously makes an effort to ground you and your anger that has always been an aspect you have struggled to maintain. it maddens you that he knows exactly what to do to calm you down, regardless of the way you treat him. for his sake you shut yourself up, swallowing the bitterness that itches up your throat because honestly, he doesn’t deserve your wrath. at least, not in the way it unfurls explosively.

your own apology is late, and it's not through words; no, you would rather anything but open your mouth when you are this emotionally turmoiled. so instead, your hand comes to rest atop his, turning his palm and curling against the crevices of his fingers that leaves a space for you. he thumbs your skin, running along the hills of your knuckles.

it’s okay, we’ll get through this.

in the darkness of his car he provides you with the silence that you need and you settle with memorising the lines of his palm against yours, your only relief against the tides of anger that soon mellow down.

the door to your house is barely shut, before sunghoon has you in his arms. back pressed against his chest, he pulls you against him and holds you in a grip that begs to listen. you long to stay like this, melting against him, his breath warm and lips tingling in the crook of your neck but then his apology is gently written against your skin, kisses littered all across your neck that you bare to him in a silent  reluctance because they feel rather like tiny pricks of guilt that brands you like molten wax. you choose to pull away then, prying his arms apart and walking away.

but sunghoon is no stranger to this. he’s not unaccustomed to you pushing him away and punishing yourself and it’s always been something he could never stand to tolerate. consequently, you’re no stranger to his relentless efforts in undoing your destruction, so when he’s pulling you down on the couch with him, the fight in you already starts to depart. and when his lips find yours, capturing them in almost a frenzy of equal parts desperation and and equal parts anger, you kiss him back with a matched intensity.

it’s messy, it’s loud, it’s passionate. his lips leave no room for air nor conflict. at this point in time, your anger is fully dissipated, drenched under a different passionate endeavour that grips you entirely within his relentless claws.

sunghoon’s hands cradle your face like you’re made of fragile glass, but his lips are anything but gentle. they move with a feverish intensity, a plea embedded in every tilt of his head and brush of his tongue. you taste the bitterness of unresolved tension on his lips, mingling with the faint sweetness of his earlier cologne that lingers faintly in the space between you. his breath is warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine as he deepens the kiss, as if he’s trying to reach the depths of your soul and pull you closer into him.

you want to push him away, to punish him for the sting of the argument still lingering in your chest, to punish him for trying to take your anger away, but instead, your body betrays you. you pull him closer, tighter, as though he’s the only anchor in a storm you’re too weary to weather alone. his hands slide down, fingertips brushing the curve of your jaw, then your neck, tracing the line of your collarbone with reverence. every touch sends a wave of electricity through you, pulling you deeper into a sea of emotions you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

he pulls back just enough for his forehead to rest against yours, his breath ragged and uneven, fanning across your damp lips. his eyes, dark and searching, bore into yours. they are filled with questions, apologies, and a vulnerability that only sunghoon can carry with such quiet dignity.

you’re not ready to forgive yourself yet, not fully, but the way his lips brush against yours again makes you wonder if you’ve already started to. what is it that makes him want to be easier on you? what gives in the way he never stops holding you like you’re all that matters even though your mind rages?

your anger is gone now, burned out and replaced by an aching guilt that nestles deep in your chest. it isn’t fair, you think – how he gives so freely, how he carries your weight without hesitation while you stumble under the burden of your own.

his arms tighten around you as if to tell you that it’s enough – that you’re enough, even in your mess, even in your moments of fire. sunghoon doesn’t need your apology; he needs you, and that truth is almost too heavy to bear. but when his lips find yours again, softer now, like a promise he’s willing to make a thousand times over, you let yourself believe, just for tonight, that maybe you can learn to carry it together.

[krewekreep]

When he grabs your neck while drilling in you from behind. Curving you into a messy kiss. For a moment he releases his tight grip on your hips and softens his thrust the slightest bit. He deepens the kiss wrestling your tongue with his as he moves his hands to massage your breasts. You were overstimulated, no longer able to kiss him back you open your mouth for him and he growls moving one hand to choke you as the other fixates on your nipples. He’s giving his all to you and you receive it gratefully. It’s not usual for him to treat you with so much attention, so much neediness. You watched him with Fuck drunk eyes as his were closed intensely, his brow furrowed so deeply it looked as if he were scowling. His mouth rabid and unfocused against yours while plunging in you from behind. The slightest glimpse of a moan escapes him before reeling himself back in. To not lose to you in a battle only he had in his mind, he pulled you away by the hair pushing you into the mattress. He was never incredibly gentle with you but you felt as if this time he had to remind himself to remain dominant. Since you’d been under his care (kinda held hostage) he eased you into the idea of him ravishing you with sexual flirtations and promised that succumbing to him wouldn’t be all that bad. He enjoyed toying with you gradually increasing physical intimacy until you were a crumbling mess fighting against the pleasure escaping your throat as his fingers explored your warm hole. He took extra pleasure in making you fall for him and would never admit his amusement was laced in a desire to genuinely keep you.

As he continued to thrust into you he raised one leg up firmly planting it on the bed creating a deep impression that showed all he had to hold back when dealing with you. He knew his world crushing strength and unlike what anyone would think, took consideration of its usage. Yet, there were times like now as he’s almost struggling to pull out given the hot squeeze of your walls on his dick. He knew he was nearing his edge, having made you cum 3 times already. This last go round was for him. Your face and body blush, shivering as you hear him grunting ever so quietly. It turned you on to no end and began, with what little you had to give, throwing your ass back to meet his thrusts in a loud slick clapping. His moans grew louder as he quickly apprehended your arms holding them behind your back. This image of submission almost made him lose it. His thrust became punishing and you gave up just allowing him to slide you mercilessly up and down his dick. He forgot himself completely. “Ah- you’re so obedient Y/N.” You moan in wanting more praise. Knowing that you’ve grown fond of that he continues, “Mmm my little captured one.” His pace almost brutal as your eyes are falling to the back of your head and drool has slipped out of your mouth onto the bed and your torso.

You can feel how he spreads you with every hit to your core. His pace was becoming sloppier and you knew he was about to cum and fill you as much as he could. He grabs at your hair again pulling back up into a kiss. Your belly tightens and in an instance you push yourself flush on his dick cumming so hard your entire body shakes. His pace has stopped and still holding you by the hair he chuckles and without a word shoots his load into you. He watched you with a certain amusement as he feels his own fluid coating your walls and him. He pumps into you about four times. You were his official cum bucket and he wouldn’t admit how much he loved watching it leak out of you. He kisses you again, more than ever before especially during sex. But he’s still himself as he pulls out with no regard, a loud suction-esque sound that sends a shiver of pain through you. You were spent of all energy barely able to keep your eyes open hanging helplessly onto him. He brushed a finger over your forehead lightly, again amused at how easy for him it is to forget humans are fragile and weak. Not when you take him like a demon yourself. While he has the mind to fill you up some more he decided wearing you out too bad would mean a longer recovery time later. Although called many things in that respect he couldn’t be that cruel, not to you. It is only ever worth while when you practically are begging on hands and knees for him to fuck you. But your tear stricken, snot nosed, drooled covered face, the red marks on you of him forgetting himself too many times, and the sleep (by the deep rise and cave of your chest) meant it was much needed. Much deserved. He relaxed into a position where you were cradled in his lap and watched you thinking over all the presents and gifts he would collect for you. Or whether you’d need a slave assistant. Or the heart of your enemies. And you relaxed into his embrace easily unaware of your capter’s growing obsession and dire need to keep you all to himself.

Who: Sukuna, Madara, Dracula, Alucard (Hellsing), Sephiroth, Aizen, Kenpachi + any other mean fucks

Requests Open

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

[ganondoodle]

(OC Lore and design time!)

(it got longer again ... sorry ... idk how to make things short, i just need to talk, but i guess if you can read the written stuff in the pic thats the barest bare bones of what i wrote here)

i was asked what new lore story stuff i had thought about that made me sad which i mentioned a bit ago, and while that is too hard to explain given all the missing context i thought i could at least talk about lore having to do with it :D

so, (Lord) Eadrya is one of my fav OCs (big blue lad, here a rough sketch in humanoid form) they are both one of if not THE most powerful demon alive and the most battle trained;

at the mid point of the story the demon world gets invaded by the celestials (the angel inspired things i talked about in the previous lore post with Xaror) and Shargon, as the king, should be their first and only frontline, but at this point his life is only being sustained by maschinery after being mortally wounded, he cannot fight (he realizes what is going on, rips himself off the maschinery to get at least his youngest child to safety, barely managing it before dying- the guardian, the demons god, takes over his body to attempt to fight against the celestials but cant keep itself alive long enough since its host is already dead) Eadrya takes the role of the frontline fighter (despite being very full of themselves and aggressive they care about their 'job' of protecting their own, also giving them the chance to show off just how strong they are); the fight was going well for them all things considered, but when the guardian activates it drains the power of all elemental lords (which Eadrya is one of, and since they have the most strength it also takes the most from them), so much so that they lose the fight and suffer deadly wounds (the worst being a spear through the chest made of a material that grows hard, root-like formations when in contact with demonic blood like a fungus but worse, also stopping any self healing processes) after the guardian falls apart it creates a huge shockwave of energy that stuns every living thing within a certain distance and possibly more-

Eadrya (in true demon form, so like a blue whale in size at least) was likely taken through an active gateway to the human world in a large tidal wave also created by the guardians fall; they wash up in the harbor of a small secluded village, the head of which is 'lady 13'; although never having seen a demon before and everyone being afraid (largely thinking its a strange hurt animal, only she suspected otherwise), they still gather all villagers to pull out the celestial spear, which is diffcult and brutal given that its already taken root, but the village lacked both knowledge and means to help any other way- doing so damaged their heart which is how they were able to collect samples of all three demonic blood types ('normal' -red like humans-, energy -essentially purely magic- and heartblood -highly concentrated energy only found within the heart of a demon and the only one to contain genetic material) (this is the start of Eadryas character arc, having to deal with the fact that their world is likely destroyed, them failing what they didnt think they could fail, having lost a battle so badly (even if not really their fault) for the first time and not knowing if literally anyone else has survived .. also being now stuck in the human world, which they dont like)

Lady 13 (placeholder name? stands for experiment 13) is a human that was tricked by demon hunters to enroll into a series of experiments trying to create hybrids of demons and humans, which they hoped would be powerful and easily controllable tools for their endeavours, though the two are inherently not compatible, they tried grafting body parts of demons on humans to make them compatible- all experiments failed except for her, more or less, though she never got to see the hybrid she carried and was then told it had died too, they threw her out believing she wouldnt survive much longer either and all such experiments were cancelled due to the high cost of human life, research material (demons are still rare) and upkeep with no successful results Lady 13 survived though (perhaps even via the pirates picking her up?) and she ended up living in said small village far away, hiding her half demonic body, though most know there soemthing 'wrong' with her (her being this tall when it doesnt fit the rest for one), only few know the full extent; she enjoys the life she has now, perhaps on the more poor side but safer and more loved than ever before; she largely lead the efforts to try and help Eadrya when they ended up in the harbor, though there wasnt that much anyone could do it was still enough- they leave immediately after waking up, but return after really having nowhere to go and struggling to deal with everything that has happened; over time (probably years) they start to open up towards the people there (though not .. very much) enough to get rather close with Lady 13 too- she actually falls madly in love but after Eadrya (extremely aro/ace) rejects all her attempts quite clearly she respects their boundaries

However, after hearing news of potential demon sightings Eadrya decides to leave in hopes of not being the last demon left after all; Lady 13 then decides to reveal her secret to them (though hearing and seeing what lengths hunters would go to for their experiments makes them absolutely seething with rage- she insists on not being out for revenge) and asks if they would be willing to donate a small amount of heartblood; shes always wanted to be a mother but is now incompatible with humans too- through things she picked up back at the experiments facillity, hers and her doctors research she is sure that is all that is needed, she dares to ask since she does not know when, if ever, she will meet another demon, much less one she could actually trust enough for this though Eadrya hesitates (why would she want to go through the same thing again that didnt work and threatened her life, if it does work, do they want to be involved with any of this? what if hunters find out it worked after all?) but after her ensuring that they would have no part in it other than giving up a little blood and would not be considered a parent in any way, nor made responsible for anything that might happen to her, but considering it all in the end they agree to it

only for her to reveal shes had a small bottle of it already, along with multiple samples of the other types, which she collected when Eadrya was bleeding out into the harbor not knowing if they will survive, though not wanting to make use of it without their consent either way (they are actuallly rather touched by this)

alot later the main group returns here and it turns out to have worked (though she is unable to walk/bedridden for a long while bc it did alot of damage to her body, which can heal since its demons parts, but only really slowly bc she does not have a full functioning system and no demonic blood of her own -she uses the other samples for the healing process-) though its a little awkward to explain, especially considering that 13.1 took alot after Eadrya xD (their theory as to why it worked so "well" that time is that even though the sample was already taken, them giving their consent for it still made it less likely to be rejected; demons dont need partners to have offspring, and all can do it, they just have to decide to- so them agreeing to it, even though its long been outside their body, still had an effect on the blood sample)

[ragnvindrgf]

fontanian men and empty places pt.1

☆ pairings: neuvillette x afab reader, wriothesley x afab reader, & lyney x afab reader

☆ warnings: glove kink (?), petnames, dubious consent, mentions of a relationship with a power imbalance, sex in public spaces

nsfw under the cut

neuvillette - in front of the oratrice mecanique d'analyse cardinale (pre 4.2)

usually, if he’s feeling bold, you’ll fuck in his office at palais mermonia. rarely ever HERE. but, on the rare occasions that you do…

it’s a rare quiet day at the opera epiclese. no trials and no shows held by the beloved magician twins. but, neuvillette still had to come down to oversee some maintenance done on the oratice mecanique d’analyse cardinale (omac for short plz). 

“mon coeur, i don’t know why you can’t just assign the overseeing to some garde or melusine. you and i both know there’s no issue with its ability to create indemnitium.” you stand at the center of the stage, pouting with your arms crossed. 

the silver haired man chuckles softly, “i know i could. but you and i both know this isn’t a delicate matter, it requires special attention no matter what,” neuvillette moves close to you and leans down to kiss your cheek, “somewhat like you.”

“please, you pay this hunk of metal more attention than me some days,” you scoff. you were exaggerating, you both knew it but neuvillette still raised a brow. 

“oh? has my sirène been feeling neglected?” the hydro sovereign pauses, you feign puppy dog eyes and look up at him, your eyes meeting his soft azure blue ones. 

“wouldn't hurt to show me how special i am,” you say with fake sniffles

neuvillette cups your cheeks in his hands and your lips meet in a desperate need, lust clouding over you both so quickly. eventually, you part gasping for breath as you hazily look up at him silently pleading for more. 

just as you open your mouth to ask neuvillette to take you home, the man is pushing two of his glove clad fingers past your lips and down your throat. you gag around the intrusion but don’t pull away, keeping eye contact even if your vision blurs with tears. 

“indeed, allow me.”

wriothesley - in an abandoned production zone 

you and the fortress of meropide’s administrator have a hard and clear rule, keep it under wraps, no telling anyone and definitely no pda. so imagine your surprise when the duke himself is walking towards you in the middle of your evening patrol. 

“oh- sir, i was just in the middle of my patrol. did you need assistance in something?” you ask, putting up a facade to any other gardes that may be nearby. 

wriothesley puts a hand up, signaling the coast was clear. “no need for that, princess. it’s just us here,” he grins at your body relaxing, “did you check this area out already?”

you look back, an abandoned production zone. nothing but boxes of unused gear for clockwork mekas, “yeah, all clear back there.” you peer into the man’s icy eyes, wondering what he was doing here. wriothesley was usually in his headquarters’s at this time, or really just sleeping. the confused look doesn’t go unnoticed. 

the duke guides you deeper into the empty tunnel, “what, i can’t check up on my princess?”

you flush at the pet name. despite you being a mere garde in the fortress, wriothesley insisted on calling you such pet names. “no- i mean yes you can but-“

you’re interrupted as you hit the wall behind you, now noticing how deep into the tunnel you are and how close wriothesley is to you. the man flips you around with ease and presses you against the wall, your back firm against his chest. “i got tired of filling out paperwork, i need a break,”

your eyes widen when you feel his hard cock strain against his pants and push into the small of your back. “oh,” you breathe out. 

“think you can help me unwind?” the duke doesn’t even wait for your answer and begins unbuckling his belt, the sound of the light metal making you press your thighs together searching for friction. 

you lift up the skirt of your uniform and push down your panties, spreading apart your legs so the bigger man can fit in between them. wriothesley groans in approval at your eagerness, “such a perfect princess.” 

lyney - behind the bushes at café lutece during nighttime 

do not trust this magician’s innocent face, this man is EVIL!!! i fully believe he has an intense exhibition kink and gets off on the thrill of almost getting caught (poor melusines)

so, deep into the night when the usual bustle of fontaine court is now quiet, hiding from the sight of gardes, lyneys tugged you by the hand, all giggles and shushes, towards café lutece.

“the café is closed, lyney. what’re we doing here?” you question the perky blond. 

“oh but we’re not here for the cafe, ma cherie.” lyney continues to tug you, now behind the bushes near the walls surrounding the building, “i just though this would be the perfect place to make some magic of our own,” lyney winks at your puzzled face, softly pushing you against the walls and hiking your leg up his waist.

‘l-lyney! Have you gone mad?!” you gasp, trying to push off your insane boyfriend. yet, there was little force.

“hmm c'mon now, we’ll be quick,” his hands have already hiked up your skirt and are now toying with the hem of your panties, fingers dipping in between your thighs just quick enough to leave you longing for more. 

your heart skips a beat and you bite your lip to keep from making any noise as lyney gets bolder, his fingers slipping past your now wet folds. 

lyney grins against your neck where he’s been placing sweet kisses, “see, ma belle? just enjoy the show.”

to be continued whenever more fontaine males are released :3