#might find a ask game to flesh them out

[fantastic-mr-corvid]

rough concepts for six of Ramettas cohort of stand users! i dont have many names and just vauge ideas for history/personality and some images but they have existed for less than 24 hours [Edit: Redid the formatting & added more info!]

Name: Valentina[Birthname: Bianca] Pronouns: She/her Nationality: Italian Stand: Favorite Crime. Stand Power: Makes anyone she is touching 'fall in love with her' and do whatever she wants, however the longer the contact the more obsessive towards her they become, with contact past a certain amount of time increase the chances they stay obsessed with her.

Personality: Overlooked an neglected as a child, she wanted attention and to be loved, however she found out that its not easy to find genuine love and care, and hurt herself trying, ending up entangled with Passione in the process. As an adult and after making proper friends, she gets less desperate for connection and more confident, visually she demands attention with her wild clothing and bright pinks.

Role: she distracts as well as makes people grant them entry to places, the face of the group

Name: Veronika aka Nika. Pronouns: She/her Nationality: Ukrainian Stand: Winter Mist. Stand Power: Releases a mist that only she can see, that ripples based on movement through it, as well as changes colour based on the emotions of people within it. as long as she is within a certain distance she can always sense in her minds eye, able to understand the ripples and colours to create a 3d map in her mind.

Personality: A Ukrainian immigrant, her parents went from farmers at home to the same in italy, and she learned how to hunt and trap at a young age from her father. She takes those skills into becoming an assassin, her prey turned from animals to humans. Contrary to that, she has a bright personality and sense of dress, though a strong practical streak

Role: lookout, trap setter and assassin

Name: Harumi [春海, "spring, sea"] Pronouns: She/He [+they if speaking english] Nationality: Japanese Italian Stand: Shadowplay, stand power: Able to disappear into shadows and travel through them at will [akin to mirror man, travels similar to black sabbath]

Personality: While her parents loved her, she was singled out as a child and badly bullied to the point she wanted nothing more than to disappear into the night and evade watching eyes. he acted tough as a teenager to ward people off, but hides a heart of gold. She is a strong fighter, especially when using her stand to disappear and reappear from the shadows to avoid hits and surprise enemies

Role: fighter, following people unnoticed to gather information, assassin

Name: Marina/Mariano [Used depended on the situation] Pronouns: She/He [+they if speaking english] Nationality: Sardinian Stand: Deep Water Stand Power: Pulls your soul/conscious from your body and pulls it away though liquids such as the ocean or pipes, the further away from the body, the harder it is to fight as you slowly lose yourself, counteracted either by calling out to the soul and convincing it to fight back, or by moving the body closer to the stand.

Personality: After a quiet childhood in a fisher village, she was lost at sea, and ended up drifting in the ocean till he washed up in the middle of some of Passiones dealings, finding the child protected by his stand, she ended up running errands and being raised among criminals

Role: Takes enemies out of a fight, is well versed in the underworld

Name: Loreto Pronouns: She/Her Nationality: Italian Stand: Nobody. Stand Power: she can make herself and anyone she touches be overlooked by everyone else, while its not true invisibility, peoples eyes will skip over them and their ears will ignore their sounds. If someone is very very focused on seeing them, helped by being aware of the trick, they can see them but it will be hard for their brain to process them.

Personality: Once shy and avoidant and desperate to be ignored because of bullying for not performing masculinity well enough, she now dresses wildly and acts loudly, confident that she can be forgotten or disappear at a moments notice.

Role: Escorting the group and providing cover, as well as following people like Shadowplay

Name: Disorder. Pronouns: She/Her Nationality: Italian Stand: Interzone. Stand Power: Interzone can be assigned a person to search for, and it will obsessively hunt them down and then follow them, invisible to even other stand users. Every now and again at uncontrollable intervals until its revoked, it will put the information its learned in Disorders head, a painful and confusing experience.

Personality: Contrary to her name, Disorder is very orderly, having many rituals and thinking very logically and struggling with emotions [Ocd & autism] She loves the question mark motif to a degree she rivals the riddler, and constantly seeks out more knowledge. Her curiosity lead her to digging into Stands and Passione, resulting in her getting her stand after witnessing the lighter ritual, and being forced to join.

Role: information gatherer and logical strategist

[purple-plum-petals]

Can I pretty please get some headcanons of mr chopped with a s/o that loves to grab him sudenly just to give him kisses?

 ⊱ Smothering Him in Kisses ⊰ || Mr. Chopped Headcanons

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮ Character(s): Mr. Chopped (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Nothing! Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship Word Count: ~420 words Request: “Can I pretty please get some headcanons of mr chopped with a s/o that loves to grab him sudenly just to give him kisses?” Author’s Note: Yes, you may!! Thank you for sending in such an adorable request – Mr. Chopped is just too cute. I wish we had more moments with him in-game. 😭 This one is a little on the shorter side since only one character was requested, but I hope you enjoy it nevertheless! 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

🗣️: Honestly, his reaction depends on his mood or when you decide to randomly smother him in kisses. If he was sleeping and you suddenly grabbed him to place kisses across his cheeks, he might get a bit pouty and scold you for scaring him out of a dead sleep. Don’t you know that’s rude?? However, if he’s fully conscious, he’ll take your kisses with either a bright smile or quietly sulk while he allows you to shower him in affection. He has mixed feelings about being manhandled unless he explicitly asks you to carry or hold him, so just ask for his consent before you decide to smother him in your love (you should ask for consent no matter what, folks)! 

🗣️: He does love your kisses, though… He enjoys the feeling of your hands gently cradling his face, your thumbs brushing over the apples of his cheeks while your lips leave feather-light touches across his flesh. He knows he’s safe there with you, and that you’ll protect him from anything that wants to bring him harm. Honestly, he’s never slept better than when he’s with you, resting on your chest or lap or stomach, nuzzling into your body for more warmth and comfort. 

🗣️: Mr. Chopped seems like the kind of person who would adore butterfly kisses. He finds the action endearing and will laugh softly when your lashes lightly brush against his skin. Another type of kiss besides your traditional cheek and/or lip kiss is nose kisses. His nose will scrunch up as you rub the tips together, and he finds it to be the most wonderful feeling in the world – that fluttering sensation he gets despite having no heart or stomach. My man just eats up any attention or affection that you’re willing to give (as long as you don’t catch him off-guard – he hates surprises). 

🗣️: If you wear lipgloss or colored lipstick, Mr. Chopped gets really embarrassed since the marks of your lips are pretty much stuck on his face until either you or Mr. Silvair wipe them off of him (which neither of you will do unless he starts whining about it – you both find his reaction to be entertaining and/or cute). He prefers it when you wear lipstick more than lipgloss, though, since the gloss can be pretty sticky and somewhat uncomfortable on his skin. Mr. Chopped notices that, whenever he does have the mark of your lips on his face, he doesn’t get kidnapped nearly as frequently as he used to… did you know about this, or do you just do it to make him blush? 

[thebarneschronicles]

The Edge of Patience

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Synopsis: You’re no stranger to the overprotective nature of your boyfriend, Bucky Barnes. After a heated argument about wanting to join him and Sam on their missions, you knowingly push his buttons until his patience snaps. What starts as a battle of wills turns into a raw, unrestrained encounter—punishing, heated, and entirely irresistible.

Word Count: 1.8k

Author’s note: This is my first Bucky Barnes fanfic, so bear with me. If you have any requests or ideas, please send them my way - I’d be happy to get my Bucky obsession out into more fics! B xx

The argument was still fresh, the tension lingering in the room like static electricity. I could feel it in the way Bucky was moving—too stiff, too deliberate—as he paced back and forth. His shoulders were squared, his jaw set, and his hands, one flesh and one metal, flexed and curled at his sides.

“You’re not doing this, doll,” he said, voice low and clipped.

“Why not?” I crossed my arms and met his glare head-on. “I’m not fragile, Bucky. I can handle myself.”

“You don’t understand what you’re asking for,” he snapped, stopping mid-stride to pin me with his icy stare. “You think this is some kind of game? You want to be in the middle of a firefight with me? With Sam? You think that’s a good idea?”

“I think you’re underestimating me.” I knew I was pushing him, testing the limits of his patience. But part of me wanted this, craved this. The way he tensed, the way his control slipped just a little when I got under his skin—it was intoxicating.

His nostrils flared, his teeth grinding audibly as he stepped closer. “You don’t listen. You never fucking listen.”

“Maybe if you actually talked to me like a partner instead of some porcelain doll, I’d have a reason to.”

His glare sharpened, and for a moment, I thought he might lose it completely. But instead, he took a deep breath, his jaw working furiously as he fought to reel himself back in.

“I’m done arguing about this,” he said finally, his voice dangerously calm. “Drop it.”

But I didn’t. Not until I saw that last thread of his control snap.

It happened fast after that.

We didn’t even make it to the bed. Bucky had me against the wall, one hand curled around my neck, the other tearing at the waistband of my pants. His grip was firm, just shy of too tight, and his metal fingers pressed cool and unyielding against my skin.

“This what you wanted, doll?” His voice was a low growl, and his breath was hot against my ear. “Is this why you were being a little brat?”

I gasped as he pushed my legs apart, his knee driving between my thighs to hold me steady.

“Bucky—”

“No,” he bit out, his hand tightening around my neck just enough to make my words falter. “You don’t get to play innocent now.”

He thrust into me hard and fast, no warning, no hesitation. My head fell back against the wall, a cry spilling from my lips as he set a punishing rhythm.

“This what you wanted?” he snarled, his metal hand sliding down to grip my hip, holding me in place as he drove into me again and again. “Wanted me to lose my patience, huh? Wanted to see how far you could push me?”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Every thrust knocked the air from my lungs, the sheer force of him overwhelming in the best, most torturous way.

“Look at you,” he growled, his hand leaving my hip to grip the back of my thigh, pulling my leg higher to angle me even closer. “You’re so fucking needy. You piss me off, and now you’re begging for it.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t lie to me.” His grip on my throat tightened just enough to cut me off, his lips curling into a wicked smirk as he watched my eyes flutter shut. “You like this. Don’t you, doll?”

I whimpered, my nails digging into his shoulders as I struggled to find any sort of control. But he wasn’t giving me an inch.

“Answer me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding.

“Yes,” I gasped, the word barely audible.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I like it.”

He rewarded me with a particularly brutal thrust, a sharp cry tearing from my throat. “That’s my girl,” he muttered darkly, his lips grazing the shell of my ear.

The edge of his control was razor-thin, and I could feel it in every rough touch, every growled word. He wasn’t holding back, wasn’t pretending to be gentle. And God, it was perfect.

He fucked me like he was trying to prove a point, like he needed me to understand the consequences of pushing him too far. And maybe I did. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t do it again in a heartbeat.

“Next time,” he said, his voice tight and low as he buried himself deep inside me, “think twice before you try to test me.”

I could only nod, my body trembling as he finally slowed, his forehead dropping to rest against mine.

But I knew better than to make promises I couldn’t keep.

[urdreamydoodles]

X-MEN x FEM!READER

X-Men with a S/O who is shy and has social anxiety

Characters: Logan Howlett, Remy LeBeau, Kurt Wagner, Scott Summers, Jean Grey, Ororo Munroe, Rogue, Erik Lehnsherr, Charles Xavier, Wanda Maximoff, Pietro Maximoff, Hank McCoy, Emma Frost, Laura Kinney & Wade Wilson

Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

- Logan is a storm, a hurricane contained in flesh and steel, and yet—he softens for you. You, who tread lightly in a world that feels too loud, too sharp. You, who flinch at attention, who hide behind the safety of silence. He doesn’t ask you to be louder. He just makes sure no one drowns you out.

- He has seen too much, lost too much, but your quiet presence is the one thing that stills the restless beast inside him. When your hands shake, he catches them in his own—warm, steady, calloused from wars you will never have to fight. He doesn’t say much, but then again, neither do you. That’s why it works.

- If someone mocks your silence, Logan doesn’t waste words. He just looks at them, eyes dark with something primal, something ancient. “You got somethin’ you wanna say?” His voice is quiet, but the threat is thunderous. No one ever says anything after that.

- When the world is too much, when your anxiety grips you in invisible chains, he pulls you close, his heartbeat steady against your ear. “Breathe, darlin’,” he mutters, voice rough but impossibly gentle. And you do—because he is an anchor, and he is yours.

- He does not call you fragile, though others might. Fragile things break—he has seen you bend, but never shatter. And when he kisses you, slow and reverent, he tastes the quiet fire in you, the one you don’t even know you have.

Remy LeBeau (Gambit)

- Remy is a poet wrapped in mischief, a man whose silver tongue could charm the moon from the sky. He has danced through danger, whispered promises into the night, but he has never met anyone who made him want to whisper softer, until you.

- Your shyness is a puzzle to him, one he doesn’t try to solve but simply admires. Where others fill silence with empty words, Remy listens. And when you struggle to find your own words, he waits. Because, chérie, he has all the time in the world for you.

- If someone tries to mock your quietness, Remy just laughs—low and slow, like he knows a secret they don’t. He leans in close to them, eyes glinting red beneath the shadows. “Funny, how the ones who talk the most tend to be the least important.” That shuts them up real fast.

- He makes it his mission to draw you out, but never forcefully. He teases, flirts, turns every interaction into a game where you always win. And when you finally laugh, finally let yourself meet his gaze without hesitation, he swears he falls in love all over again.

- When your anxiety flares, when your hands shake and words tangle, he just presses a kiss to your knuckles and murmurs, “Ain’t no rush, chérie. Take all the time you need.” And for the first time, you believe that maybe, just maybe, you are worth waiting for.

Kurt Wagner (Nightcrawler)

- Kurt understands the weight of being different. He has spent years learning to navigate a world that looks at him and sees something other. So when you shrink from the crowd, when your voice trembles in the presence of too many eyes, he does not judge. He understands.

- He never pushes you to be louder. Instead, he offers the comfort of his presence—always there, always patient. When you hesitate to speak, he smiles, waits, gives you all the time in the world. If words fail you, he speaks for you, in that gentle, accented voice that feels like home.

- If anyone ever mocks your quietness, his golden eyes darken. “Perhaps you should learn the virtue of silence yourself,” he says, voice as sharp as a blade. And then he vanishes in a cloud of smoke, reappearing behind them just to watch them jump.

- He finds ways to make you feel safe in a world that often feels too large. Holding your hand as you walk through crowds, teleporting you away when your anxiety becomes too much, whispering soft reassurances in German when you tremble.

- And when the night is quiet, when you curl up beside him and sigh against his chest, he holds you close, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Du bist perfekt, liebling,” he murmurs. Perfect, just as you are.

Scott Summers (Cyclops)

- Scott understands control—he has spent his entire life mastering it. But when he meets you, he realizes that not everything needs to be controlled. Some things—some people—are meant to be cherished exactly as they are.

- He notices the way you hesitate before speaking, the way your hands tremble when too many people look your way. And so, he makes sure no one ever forces you to be more than you are comfortable being. He does not push, does not pry. He simply stands beside you, unwavering.

- If someone dares to mock your shyness, his voice is like steel. “That’s enough.” No raised tone, no unnecessary anger—just quiet authority, a command that demands obedience. And it works. It always works.

- He is structure where you are uncertainty, certainty where you are hesitation. When your anxiety feels too heavy, he steadies you, an unshakable foundation in a world that feels like shifting sand.

- At night, when the world is still and you are curled up beside him, he presses a slow, lingering kiss to your forehead. “You don’t have to change for anyone,” he murmurs against your skin. And you know, in the deepest part of you, that he means it.

Jean Grey (Phoenix)

- Jean is warmth, is kindness, is the gentle strength of a woman who has walked through fire and emerged unburned. She sees you—not just the way the world sees you, but truly sees you, beneath the layers of hesitation and anxiety. And she loves you all the more for it.

- She never speaks for you, but she always makes sure you are heard. When you struggle to find words, she waits. When your anxiety tells you that your voice does not matter, she reminds you—gently, lovingly—that it does.

- If someone ever mocks your quietness, Jean does not raise her voice. She does not need to. She simply tilts her head, and the offender suddenly forgets why they were speaking in the first place. Perhaps it is telepathy. Perhaps it is the sheer force of her presence. Either way, they never make the mistake again.

- When your anxiety becomes overwhelming, Jean does not try to pull you from it. Instead, she grounds you, her presence like sunlight breaking through the storm. “Breathe with me,” she whispers, and when she exhales, you do too.

- At night, when you are tangled together in sheets and soft whispers, she runs her fingers through your hair and murmurs, “You don’t have to be louder to be strong.” And you believe her, because when she speaks, the universe itself listens.

Ororo Munroe (Storm)

- Ororo Munroe is power incarnate, a goddess who commands the skies, yet she never seeks to command you. She has seen tempests rage within the human heart, has seen the way the world can be unkind to those who walk softly. And so, she offers you shelter, the kind of protection that does not smother but instead allows you to breathe.

- She does not rush your words, does not fill the silence with unnecessary noise. Instead, she listens. Listens to the soft-spoken truths you dare to utter, listens to the way your heart speaks louder than your voice ever could. And she cherishes every syllable, every pause, because they are yours.

- If someone ever dares to mock your quietness, Ororo does not raise her voice. She does not need to. The sky darkens, the wind stills, and the world itself seems to wait for her judgment. “I would advise you to tread carefully,” she says, voice like distant thunder. And they do. They always do.

- When your anxiety threatens to drown you, when the world feels too heavy, she reminds you that even the most powerful storms must rest. She takes your hand and leads you outside, where the breeze is soft and the sky open. “Breathe with the wind, my love,” she murmurs. And you do. Because with her, you are safe.

- At night, when the world is quiet and you are curled beside her, she traces her fingers along your skin, like wind dancing across water. “You are strong,” she whispers, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Not because you are loud. Not because you are fearless. But because you are you.

Anna Marie (Rogue)

- Rogue understands isolation better than most. She knows what it is to feel like you don’t belong, to be wary of touch, of attention, of the weight of others’ expectations. So when you flinch from crowds, when your voice catches in your throat, she never judges. She just holds out her hand—gloved, patient, steady.

- She is fire and defiance, unbreakable and untamed, but for you, she softens. When you struggle to meet others’ eyes, she meets yours first, a silent reassurance that she is here. When your voice trembles, she makes sure no one talks over you. And if they do, well—she’s got a sharp tongue and a mean right hook.

- If anyone dares to mock your shyness, she doesn’t hesitate. “Y’know,” she drawls, tilting her head, “some of us don’t gotta be loud to be worth listenin’ to.” And then she smiles, slow and dangerous. “But I can be real loud if ya want.” They always back down.

- She helps you in ways you don’t even realize. Holding your hand when the room feels too big, leading conversations so you don’t have to, standing in front of you when the world demands too much. She makes space for you, without ever making you feel small.

- At the end of the day, when it’s just the two of you, she holds you close, her accent softer, her touch lighter. “Ain’t nothin’ wrong with bein’ quiet, sugar,” she murmurs against your hair. And when she kisses you, you believe her.

Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)

- Erik Lehnsherr is a force of nature, a man who bends metal and willpower alike, yet with you—he is gentle. You, who speak in whispers where others shout. You, who hesitate where others rush forward. You are the only thing in his life that is not a battle, and that is something he treasures more than he can say.

- He does not ask you to be anything more than you are. In a world that demands strength in volume, he finds strength in your quiet presence. Where others might mistake your silence for weakness, he knows better. He knows that steel does not need to be loud to be unbreakable.

- If anyone mocks you, his fury is a quiet, smoldering thing. He does not need to raise his voice; he simply looks at them, and suddenly, their belt buckles tighten, their watches snap from their wrists. “I would choose your next words carefully,” he says. They never finish their sentence.

- He is protective, but never overbearing. If the world becomes too much, he removes you from it. A hand at the small of your back, a whispered promise—“You do not need to endure what pains you. I will handle it.” And he does. He always does.

- At night, when he lets himself be vulnerable, when the weight of the world slips from his shoulders, he turns to you. He traces your cheek, his voice softer than anyone else would believe. “You are perfect as you are,” he murmurs. “And I will destroy anyone who makes you feel otherwise.”

Charles Xavier (Professor X)

- Charles Xavier is a man who hears everything, who knows the weight of unspoken thoughts and unshed fears. And yet, he never intrudes upon your mind. He waits, patient, always willing to listen—but never demanding. Because he knows how precious it is to be given words freely.

- He notices the way your anxiety grips you, how you hesitate before speaking, how the world feels too large, too loud. And so, he makes space for you. In conversations, in gatherings, in life itself. He ensures you are never drowned out, never overlooked.

- If someone dares to belittle you, his response is quiet but absolute. “The strongest minds are often the most contemplative,” he says, his gaze steady, his presence commanding. And in that moment, the world seems to agree with him.

- He teaches you how to breathe through the panic, how to find stillness in chaos. When your hands shake, he takes them in his own, his touch steady, reassuring. “You are not alone,” he tells you, and with him, you believe it.

- When the night is dark and the silence is overwhelming, he pulls you close, his voice like a lullaby. “You are extraordinary,” he whispers against your hair. And with him, you know it to be true.

Emma Frost (The White Queen)

- Emma Frost is diamond—hard, unyielding, untouchable. And yet, with you, she is warmth where the world expects ice. She is silk where others expect steel. Because you, with your hesitant words and careful steps, are the one thing she allows herself to be soft for.

- She never forces you to speak, never pushes you into the spotlight. Instead, she makes sure no one overlooks you. If someone talks over you, she silences them with a single, perfectly arched brow. If someone underestimates you, she makes sure they regret it.

- If anyone mocks you, Emma doesn’t even blink. “How tragic,” she sighs, inspecting her nails. “Some people mistake volume for importance.” And then, with the barest hint of a smirk—“Would you like to forget how to speak entirely?” They never bother you again.

- When your anxiety is overwhelming, when the world feels too sharp, she takes your hand and leads you away. A quiet space, a soft touch, her voice low against your ear. “You do not have to fight every battle. Let me handle this.” And she does. With ruthless precision.

- At night, when it’s just the two of you, she presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm against your skin. “You don’t need to be anything but yourself,” she murmurs. And coming from Emma Frost, that is the highest form of love.

Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)

- Wanda is no stranger to feeling like she doesn’t belong, to feeling like the world does not know what to do with her presence. So when she meets you—quiet, hesitant, weighed down by a war no one else can see—she understands. She does not ask you to be different. She simply lets you exist, exactly as you are.

- She senses your discomfort before you even speak it, feels the way your heart stammers in a crowded room, how your thoughts spiral when too many eyes are on you. And so, she stands beside you like a shield woven from whispers and stardust, her very presence anchoring you. She lets you speak only when you are ready. And if you are not, she speaks for you.

- If someone ever mocks your quietness, Wanda does not waste words. She merely tilts her head, a flicker of red dancing at her fingertips. “Careful,” she says softly, her voice a lullaby with teeth. “Thoughts have a way of slipping, and I might just pluck yours out.” They never mock you again.

- When your anxiety suffocates you, when you feel like you might collapse beneath the weight of your own mind, Wanda takes your hands, her fingers warm against yours. “Close your eyes,” she whispers. And suddenly, your thoughts slow, like a tide retreating. The world does not feel so terrifying when she is near.

- At night, she traces patterns against your skin, a silent spell only the two of you will ever understand. “You are safe,” she murmurs, her lips against your temple. “You are enough.” And when she pulls you close, it feels like you are wrapped in the very fabric of the universe itself.

Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)

- Pietro moves too fast for the world, but never too fast for you. He notices when your breathing hitches, when your hands tremble, when the world becomes too much. And in those moments, he slows. For you, he will always slow.

- He never pushes you into the spotlight, never asks you to be louder than you are. Instead, he stays close, his presence a constant hum of energy, an unspoken promise that you are not alone. And if you do speak? He listens. Fully, completely, as if your words are the only thing that matter.

- If someone dares to mock you, Pietro is gone before they finish their sentence. And when he returns, there’s a gust of wind, a smirk on his lips, and an unfamiliar weight in his hand. “I stole all their shoelaces,” he announces. “And their car keys. And, for fun, their dignity.”

- When your anxiety threatens to crush you, Pietro does not try to talk you out of it. He does not tell you to "calm down." Instead, he takes your hand and runs. Through city streets, through endless fields, through time itself if he must. “The world is bigger than your fear,” he whispers. And for a moment, you believe him.

- At night, he holds you like he is afraid you will slip through his fingers. “The world may be fast,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against your hair, “but I will always stop for you.” And in his arms, you are not afraid of being left behind.

Hank McCoy (Beast)

- Hank McCoy is brilliance and kindness woven together, a man whose intellect is matched only by the depth of his heart. He does not simply tolerate your shyness—he cherishes it, as one cherishes a rare book, delicate and irreplaceable.

- He does not rush you, does not demand you speak when words do not come easily. Instead, he engages with you in the language of understanding, of patience. When the world is too loud, he sits beside you in silence, offering you the comfort of his presence.

- If someone ever dares to belittle you, Hank does not raise his voice. He merely adjusts his glasses, considers them for a long moment, and then proceeds to dismantle them with logic so devastating they are left questioning their very existence.

- When your anxiety grips you tight, when your thoughts spiral, Hank does not try to fix you. Instead, he wraps you in his warmth, in his steady voice, in the quiet reassurance that he is here. That he will always be here.

- At night, he reads to you in a voice like velvet, weaving words into lullabies. And when sleep finally comes, it is not fear that follows you into your dreams, but the sound of his heartbeat, steady and sure.

Laura Kinney (X-23)

- Laura Kinney does not need words to understand you. She does not need explanations, does not need you to fight to be understood. She simply knows.

- She stands beside you like a silent guardian, always near, always watching. If a room feels too crowded, she is the space between you and the world. If your voice shakes, she ensures no one talks over you.

- If someone mocks you, Laura does not speak. She simply tilts her head, her eyes cold, calculating. They realize their mistake before she even moves. And if they do not? Well. They won’t make it twice.

- She does not try to make you “brave.” She does not try to change you. She simply exists beside you, in a quiet partnership that needs no embellishment. With Laura, your silence is never a weakness. It is simply another way to exist.

- At night, when words feel unnecessary, she presses a kiss to your shoulder, her voice a whisper against your skin. “You are safe.” And somehow, you believe her.

Wade Wilson (Deadpool)

- Wade Wilson never stops talking, but for you, he will. He notices the way the world overwhelms you, the way your breath catches in crowded spaces. And in those moments, he dials himself down—not because you ask, but because he wants you to feel safe.

- He does not mock your shyness. In fact, he adores it. “You’re like a delicate little deer,” he tells you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “A beautiful, anxious, socially awkward deer. And I love you for it.”

- If someone insults you, Wade does not take it well. He doesn’t get angry—he gets creative. The next day, the offender finds their car covered in 500 rubber ducks, all superglued.

- When you feel like you are drowning in your own thoughts, Wade distracts you in the only way he knows how. Bad jokes, ridiculous stunts, a spontaneous trip to Paris because “croissants cure anxiety, probably.”

- At night, he holds you tighter than he ever holds his weapons. “You’re my favorite person,” he whispers, pressing his forehead to yours. “And I’ve met, like, EVERYONE.”

[wlwxreader]

Queen of the Wilderness

not my gif

Yandere!Lottie Matthews x fem!reader

Summary: After the crash, came the need for survival. And with that, came the hunger. When you get selected as The Queen of Hearts, your girlfriend Lottie does everything she can to keep you safe, and starts to think of you of some kind of almighty being

Warning(s): obsessive behavior, possessive behavior, cannibalism, mentions of blood, Lottie being a cult leader, power dynamics, protective!Lottie

Word Count: 2.6 k words

Request: here

A/N: might make a part 2 idk

Masterlist: tba

You had lost count of how many months you have been stuck in the forest with your teammates.

You used to keep a very precise count. Every time you woke up, you would add another number to the figure. You would repeat it throughout the day, like a mantra that kept you sane.

You stopped counting when Jackie died, and Lottie started to talk about the Wilderness.

It made no sense to keep count anymore. No one would ever come to rescue you. You didn’t want them to, after what you had done. You all had broken a sacred human oath; you had eaten human flesh. Your soul would be forever tainted. It was only fair that you had to live the rest of your days like that, always hungry, always weighed down by your mistakes.

Lottie had changed too, but in a way you didn’t expect to. She was the leader of the group now, always keeping everyone on check.

She also kept them fed.

You never questioned her. You knew her. You knew she was doing whatever she could to keep the group together, and alive. You had known her your entire life, you knew she wouldn’t hurt a fly.

You knew it.

So when they started doing the card game, and she was a willing participant, you knew it was for the best.

“We have to do it, Y/N,” she whispered quietly, rubbing your back as you dry heaved over a bucket. You were in the attic, it was late at night. You could see her silhouette only because of the moon light, shining through the naked trees.

“I know,” you whispered. You moved away from the bucket. No matter how much you hated yourself, your weakened body couldn’t bring itself to throw up.

You had just eaten a person, and you were so hungry you would have gone for another round.

“Come here,” she whispered. Her hands were cold, but when you rested your head on her chest, she was warm. So damn warm against the coldness.

“I hate it,” you said. You wanted to sob, but were too tired to do so.

“I know, baby.”

Her voice was soft, unlike when she talked to the group. With you, she was still warm, she was still Lottie.

“What do you think we would be doing now, if the plane never crashed?” you asked. You used to ask a lot of questions lately; you needed to hear her voice, so it would drown out everything else.

“We’d be in college,” Lottie said. She ran her hand through your hair, and you sighed. “We would be in the same university. I would’ve gotten us a place close to college, and we would be living together.”

“You think?” you asked, sleepily.

“Yeah,” Lottie said, with a certainty that made you feel relaxed. “We’ll always be together, baby. Always.”

You hummed, closing your eyes. You fell into a dreamless sleep, and Lottie allowed you, sitting down on the floor. When she was certain you wouldn’t wake up, she carried you to bed and put all the blankets she could find over your body.

She left the attic with a kiss on your forehead. Almost everyone was already sleeping, laying as close to the fire as they could be. Natalie was laying against one of the walls, deep in thought.

“Have we run out of meat already?” Lottie asked. She crossed her arms, waiting for the blonde to reply.

“We have food for tomorrow’s lunch,” she said. Her eyes were on the rifle, as if she was considering how crazy it would be to get out in the middle of the night to find an animal.

“That’s it?” Lottie looked out the window, as she too was wondering the same thing.

“Yeah,” Natalie sighed. She looked reluctant to even speak the words. “Tomorrow, we’ll have to play again.”

Play. Lottie almost laughed at the word. They haven’t played in too long. Not even since the plane crashed.

“Okay,” she said instead. “I’ll work on it.”

Lottie came back to the attic, and laid down beside you. She put her hand on your cheek, and smiled when you moved closer, seeking her out even in your sleep.

Lottie knew what they were doing, what she was doing, would be considered psychotic if anyone outside of the group were to find out. But they couldn’t hear the whispers that came with the wind, they couldn’t feel the hunger that stuck like cheap gum on long hair. They couldn’t, but she could, and she knew she had to listen to the wilderness to keep you alive.

You were the most important person in her life. You were her lifeline. When she first saw you, her breath had stopped for a second. She had wanted you ever since, and had done everything to ensure you stayed by her side. She had the means for it. Especially now, in the middle of nowhere, with a group of people that would do anything she asked for.

“I’ll keep you safe,” she whispered against your hair. “I promise.”

The Queen of Hearts.

The card stared back at you, almost mockingly.

You swallowed hard, looking around the room. You wanted to take it all in, the tranquility of the cabin before you turned the card around and everyone would be craving your meat like wild animals.

Your eyes caught Lottie’s. She looked beautiful, with her antler crown and her dark brown hair falling on soft waves. She looked back, always aware whenever you looked at her, and the smile she gave you froze midway when she noticed your face.

“No,” she said, arms falling down to her sides. All strength seemed to leave her all at once. While the others kept choosing a different card from the stack, she walked up to you in fast steps.

“Run.”

You looked into her wild eyes, feeling her fingers digging into your arms. You blinked once, twice, and then once more, and before you knew it, the card was on the ground and you were running towards the door.

“It’s Y/N,” Shauna said. She looked detached, gone. Her eyes no longer had any warmth in them.

“Fuck,” Natalie said, looking at Lottie. She rushed to grab the rifle and held tight onto it, making sure no one else would grab it and use it to hunt you.

“She can’t get away,” someone said, and it was as if a light switch was turned on.

Everyone except Lottie and Natalie left the cabin, searching for you. They screamed your name, running in different directions to find you.

“This can’t be right,” Lottie said, completely out of it. She stared at the door, eyes out of focus. “Y/N is mine. They wouldn’t hurt her. The wilderness promised. I promised.”

“I—” Natalie was lost for words. She had never been okay with anything they were doing. She felt guilty; if she had managed to find enough food to keep everyone well fed… “I’m so sorry, Lot.”

Hours went by, and you remained hidden.

You moved stealthily, remembering all the advice Nat had taught you in those times you hunted with her.

Keep your head down. Use the woods to your advantage. Never look back, always move forward.

You did as she had told you all those weeks ago. You could hear them all around you, steps that never flattered unlike yours, screams that called for your blood, for your death.

You kept going, until you fell down. You almost moaned, but held yourself back in time. If they heard you now, it would be over.

You looked at your foot, grabbing it. It hurt like a bitch.

Something moved to your left, and you ignored the pain to get up. You couldn’t fight anyone sitting on the floor.

Instead, you found yourself staring at a white hare. You blinked in disbelief. It couldn’t be possible. Nat and Travis had said time and time again there were no animals left to hunt.

So why was a hare right in front of you?

You watched as it dug into the snow, disappearing from sight. You crawled towards the place the animal had just been at, and you noticed a small hole. With desperation, using the last remaining rays of sunlight, you moved the snow away, trying to find what you thought could be your salvation.

The hare’s den.

Your hands were numb and freezing by the time you found it. There were at least ten of them, piled up together in their home to keep safe from the cold. You felt sorry for a second before you reached for the first one, wasting no time to twist its neck.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered as you sobbed. You took off your jacket, and laid the animal there. You did the same with the others, only thinking of how long they would keep the group fed.

They wouldn’t go rotten for a while if you kept them by the snow, and someone could make broth with them. If the group was smart, the animals laying on your jacket would keep you fed for well over a month.

You got up when you were done, trying not to think of what you had just done with those innocent hares. Your steps were clumsy and uneven, what with the snow and your throbbing ankle. You took a big sigh, and walked back to the cabin, hoping you could explain yourself before you were attacked by someone, anyone.

When you saw lights by the cabin, you almost went back into the woods. They had regrouped, probably arranging themselves into different groups to cover the entire forest until they found you.

Taissa was the first one to notice you, limping toward the cabin. In a moment of loyalty you had thought long forgotten, she shut her mouth and turned back around, giving you some ahead time to run.

But you didn’t. You moved forward, stepping loudly so everyone could hear.

“Y/N,” Lottie said, out of breath. She ran towards you, wrapping her arms tightly around you, knees deep in the snow you had just fallen to, incapable of holding yourself up anymore.

You knew then, with the way she was holding you, that she would die protecting you. She wouldn’t move away from you even if they crawled at her skin until they reached muscle and bone.

“Lottie,” Shauna said, almost weary. “Move away from Y/N.”

“You won’t take her away from me,” Lottie said. You had never heard her sound so fierce.

“We need food,” Misty said.

“I have food,” you said. Your voice was muffled by Lottie’s chest.

“What?”

You moved away from your girlfriend, and rested the jacket on the ground. Silence was the only response you recieved.

Everyone looked at the hares, in complete confusion.

“It’s not possible,” Natalie said. She kneeled down in front of you and grabbed one of the hares, as if to check if they were real.

“It is,” Lottie said, with a conviction that made you furrow your eyebrows. “Y/N has brought us food. She’s the Wilderness’ daughter.”

“What?” Shauna asked, looking between you and the hares.

“Can’t you see?” Lottie asked, getting up. She faced the entire group with a smile on her face. “She is mine, and she is protected by the Wilderness. The Wilderness is her mother.”

You wanted to shake your head, to tell Lottie to shut up, but you were still in shock. In a few days, you would process everything that had happened and finally understand the severity of the situation, of just how close you had been to being hunted by your own friends, but at the moment you couldn’t think of anything except how scared you were, so you just allowed Lottie to wrap her arms around your forearms, trying to help you get up.

“My foot,” you complained.

“Someone hurt you?” she asked, sweetly. Too cheerful given the situation.

“No.”

But Lottie didn’t hear you. She got up again, looking at the crowd with fire in her eyes.

“Do you see what you have done?” she asked. “You hurt her. You know what would’ve happened if someone had taken her from me?”

The group remained silent, looking at Lottie as if they were mesmerized. A few of the girls had kneeled down to grab one of the hares, them checking too if they were real, and had stayed there, kneeling in front of your girlfriend.

“Everyone would have been killed by the Wilderness. She has been benevolent this time, allowing you to hurt what’s mine and still keeping you fed. But it won’t happen again.”

You looked in disbelief as everyone nodded.

“Now go work on dinner, and be thankful for the food she has brought.”

To your utter surprise, Lottie grabbed you bride style and lifted you up. She made you rest your head on her shoulder, and carried you back to the cabin. 

“I’m sorry, darling,” she whispered as she sat you down in one of the chairs that were by the fire. She kneeled before you, and took off your shoes. “I should’ve kept you safe. You shouldn’t have gotten hurt.”

You watched as she got up to get the little medical supplies there were left. She kneeled and grabbed your swollen foot, and left a kiss on your shin.

“I’ll do better next time,” she promised. She wrapped some bandage over the afflicted zone, apologizing when you complained. “I will. No more card games for you. No one is ever going to touch you again. No one but me.”

“Lottie…”

She gave you a smile after she was done with the bandage. It was slightly crooked, and a little tight, and she knew she should have asked Misty to do it, but she would rather die than see another woman touching you.

You were hers. She could finally understand— it had all happened for a reason. The two of you meeting, you joining the football team, the plane crash… It was all for a reason.

“Don’t you see, baby?” she asked, eyes wide open. A smile split her face in half, making you slightly uneasy. “You are mine. My queen. The child of the Wilderness. We both look out for you.”

On any other day, you would have been combative. You would have told her she was overreacting, and that she should calm down. That the entire thing was maddening, and it was no one’s fault.

But you were so tired, and your leg hurt, and you wanted to cry over the betrayal you had felt when your friends had tried to kill you to eat you.

So instead, you nodded, and followed her back to the attic.

“My baby,” Lottie wrapped a jacket around your shoulders. “You must’ve been so cold. But not anymore.”

She kissed your shoulder when you laid behind her on the bed, and you allowed her to hold you through the night.

Lottie smiled when she felt your breath slow down, indicating you had fallen asleep.

She could hear noises downstairs. The girls were already preparing dinner. She would go down in a while to grab food for the two of you, but until then, she held you tight.

[11rosebunny]

How they like to be touched (BOFURIN + SHISHITOREN)

Haruka Sakura

For the love of God please hold his hand and play with his fingers. The second you do that it's possible he could potentially get a fever over 90 degrees. He's not very big on physical touch as many others would think, seen by his behaviour and personality, it almost seems like he hates it because of how nervous he gets.

So when it comes to gentle and thought out touches like holding his pinky and eventually adding two of his fingers to three and holding onto them, he freaks out. In a good way don't worry.

He'll most likely not even look your way when you're holding his hand, afraid he might just burst into a thousand pieces. But to ensure you he's enjoying it, he gives your hand a small squeeze to indicate he feels safe with you.

Hajime Umemiya

Wrapping your arms around his neck. Don't expect to be on your feet whenever you do that because he will start bolting with you in his arms.

He absolutely loves it whenever you hug him from behind if he's crouching down when he's gardening. Hugging him from in front also works for him. But if you're simply just resting your body on his while he's crouching on the ground and you jump on his back, he'll start laughing before standing up and giving you piggy back ride before running around in circles to make you laugh.

Toma Hiragi

Whatever you do, do not caress his face if you're simply just wiping dirt off his cheek, he may or may not give into his intrusive thoughts and bite the shit out of your hand, not out of fear but because he might explode into pieces.

Something about how you stare directly at his face, even if you're not making eye contact with him (he sure as hell is making eye contact with you though) he finds you so beautiful when you're taking care of him.

You'll accuse him of going red but he ends up yelling at you and saying it's because the weather is just hot.

Taiga Tsugeura

As mentioned before, if you ever hold his arm while walking around, sitting on a chair beside him, or if you pull him somewhere to make him look at something, he will now expect you to hold onto his arm for the remainder of the day.

The first time it ever happened he went batshit crazy and couldn't stop thinking about the fact that you, held onto, his arm. He always thinks about if his arms need to be bigger so it would feel comfortable whenever you'd hold onto them.

It makes him feel big and strong, like he can protect you from anything once you do that.

Mitsuki Kiryu

When you play with his hair. The first time you played with it was when you were just bored and decided to braid a few strands of his hair as he was sitting down in front of you on the floor. You were on the couch right above him so it made things even easier. He felt your fingers run through his hair and had to pause his game to process what was happening.

Afterwards, once he felt the way how relaxing and good it felt feeling your fingers run through his hair ever so gently, he sometimes asks you to take out any of his dead hairs as a way to just get you to run your fingers through his hair again.

Hayato Suo

Similar to Sakura, when you intertwine your fingers with him while holding his hand, better if you also run your thumb up and down the flesh of his hand.

He digs for innocent touches and loves to hold hands, even out in public. He doesn't mind who sees him, as long as it's not his group of boys otherwise they'd start asking him the next day with too many questions to answer.

It's become so normalized to him when it comes to holding hands, sometimes he'll just straight up grab yours without even thinking twice.

Jo Togame

He likes touching you more than he like you touching himself. For the most part, he always makes sure you're comfortable and happy and so he touches you in places where he knows you like it, but he doesn't mind it if you touch him back. His favourite way of having physical contact with you is when you're sitting down right beside him so he could place his hand on your inner thigh.

He doesn't do it in any sexual way by any means possible, maybe a few times just to see you go red, but for the most part, he just likes the way it feels. He's a sucker for mitigate acts of touches.

Tomiyama Choji

This one isn't surprising but he likes it when you cuddle with him. He's a very touchy person by heart and will somehow get his hands on you in any way he can, but if you two so happen to be innocently cuddling, he could fall asleep in seconds.

The way your body feels warm and how soft your touches soothe his skin, it makes him melt into a puddle of ice cream, he loves it whenever he feels safe around you.

[getaapologist]

Servant!reader with geta where he brings her to a gladiator fight or he gets her to suck his finger or something 😶‍🌫️🤭

I liked this so much that I tried to satisfy both parts of your request.

[ find an earlier iteration of your servant!reader here ]

[ Geta Masterlist ]

(also don't mind me, this gif is magical, as is this whole scene for him. it's not my fault he keeps leaving his neck out. one day I'm gonna write about it.)

“Are the gladiators not enough entertainment for you, brother? Must you bring your plaything?” Caracalla complained, grey-blue eyes studying every inch of you.

It was unnerving.

Geta rolled his eyes, turning away from his brother’s taunt to look to you, partially to check in with you, but more so to block you from Caracalla’s view.

Your position was not lost on you. Your access to Geta was… quite unique. After a few weeks, it almost felt… normal.

As much as fucking an emperor could feel normal.

There was much to learn about Geta. That in private, he could be playful, even sweet if he wished it. He craved touch. He liked it when you used his title. You hadn’t dared to call him “Geta” yet. Not until he asked it of you. Not that he ever would.

That would imply a familiarity that would cross too many boundaries.

Too much, too close.

Foolish thoughts.

“Do you like the games?” His voice was low and quiet, just for you. A small bubble of conversation, only large enough for you two. These small moments where he genuinely wanted to hear you speak, and didn’t want to share the sound of your voice with anyone else.

That’s what it seemed like, anyway.

“I’ve never been, Emperor.”

Surprise. Satisfaction. Words just on the verge of being arrogant. 

“It’s the greatest entertainment Rome has to offer. Nowhere else can you see strength like this,” he gestured to the arena, currently empty. 

It was far too easy to delude yourself into thinking he was truly interested in you and your thoughts, your opinions. The reality was surely something in between. He might think he wants to hear them, but it didn’t mean he’d ever listen to them.

“I am sure it is wonderful, Emperor.”

Placating, always placating.

The cheering of the crowd pulled his attention away and the bubble burst, though his hand remained on your thigh, pulling your legs across his lap as he made you share the throne.

Blasphemous.

Could you be blamed for your delusions, when this is how you were treated?

“Look, there,” Geta gestured, pointing to the gate opening on the far side of the arena.

And you did look, pressed up against his side, you took in the spectacle, wonder and interest waning as soon as blood was drawn.

The sounds should not have been so clear. They were so far below, away, and yet the wounded cries echoed in the oval, reaching your ears as if the man were right at your feet.

Salt, iron, the stench of death. 

With each slash and stab, Geta’s grip grew tighter. He cheered and jeered, winced and gasped, fully engaged in the violence below.

His brother was quite similar, though he was more energetic, a mad look in his eyes at times. All bluster and leaning against the back of the throne as if in agony whenever his chosen fighter fell.

Another of their servants stepped into view, obscuring Caracalla from view. They held a small plate. It contained some bits of fruit, nuts, honey.

Geta refused to acknowledge it, his eyes focused on the bloodshed before him. With a small smile, you reached out to accept the plate, holding it before you much like they had, waiting for Geta to notice. 

“Hungry, little lamb?” Geta finally questioned, noticing the plate for the first time.

You opened your mouth to speak, but he wasn’t listening, he wasn’t even looking, eyes falling to the plate’s contents, ringed fingers hovering over them as he decided what to choose.

A juicy slice of plum, flesh glistening, drizzled in golden honey. 

His eyes met yours, danger in them.

“Open.”

The command shot down your spine, your face warming. Squeezing your thighs shut, you opened your mouth, eyes on his as his own fell to your parted lips. He was entranced as he slipped the sliver of fruit between them, the pads of his fingers brushing over your lips.

He watched you intently as the sweet and tart flavor burst across your tongue, forcing you to give him a small sound of satisfaction at the taste. His lips slid into a wolfish grin.

“That’s a good little lamb,” he spoke, his voice oozing with glee.

He picked up a smaller piece and dropped it into his own mouth, still keeping his eyes on you.

“Another?” he asked, the piece of fruit already between his fingers.

You couldn’t refuse, because he wasn’t truly asking. You nodded.

He was clumsier, as if on purpose. The pads of his fingers touched your tongue as he slowly released the fruit, his eyes falling to a bit of honey running down your chin. He dragged his finger up, collecting the sweet nectar. He held his finger in front of your lips as you chewed, waiting for you to swallow.

His eyes moved down to your throat as you did, before they rose to meet yours.

“Clean,” he stressed, his big eyes bright with amusement. 

Another order. You couldn’t refuse.

His lips parted as yours did, as if he were in a trance, your perfect mirror. His tongue pushed at the inside of his mouth as you accepted his finger into yours.

The honey was cool, a bit thicker than usual. Your tongue worked that much harder at it, applying pressure to get the sticky sweetness out of the whirl of his fingertip. Once loosened, you sucked, swallowing the sweetness.

A delighted chuckle burst out of his chest as he bit his lip, attention fully on you, the bloodshed occurring below completely out of mind. His grin was otherworldly as you released his finger from your lips.

“Little lamb,” he muttered, “you are…” 

He didn’t finish his thought, just stared at you, as if coming to some realization. What it meant for you, you couldn’t know.

[ more servant!reader can be found here ]

[nastybuckybarnes]

Under the Stars

Pairing: Ghost X Reader

Summary: You love the way the stars look, and he loves the way you feel beneath them.

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, oral (f rec), creampie, kinda size kink, like really minor cum-eating ig???

Word Count: 3K

A/n: Okay so i was supposed to move into my new place on october 1st but I only JUST moved this past weekend so everything has been SO Hectic but here you go enjoy this and please enjoy the lovely soft fluff while it lasts 😌 for my marvel babes - dw, i have a whole bunch in progress right now that I hope to pump out soon!

~*~

"Thought I might find you up here."

You hum, not moving from your spot on the roof of the base.

Ghost walks up behind you slowly, rolling up his mask and lighting a cigarette on his way.

"Wha're you doin' out here alone? Shouldn't be roaming far like this."

You peel your eyes away from the sky above you to glance over your shoulder at him.

"The stars. They are so pretty," you whisper, nothing but awe in your voice.

He nods, glancing up at them, then returning his gaze to you.

"The view is especially lovely tonight."

You grin at his compliment then look back up at the sky.

He makes his way closer to you, close enough that you can smell the smoke from his cigarette wafting on the wind.

Your nose wrinkles and you turn around to face him, looking at the offending item with disgust.

He chuckles at the look on your face and takes another drag.

"What? Not a fan?"

You shrug and look at it for a long moment.

"I never tried."

"Do you want to?"

You think about his offer for a moment and then nod, stepping closer.

Instead of offering you a puff, he brings it to his lips and then presses his lips against yours.

He blows the smoke into your mouth, nipping at your bottom lip as he withdraws, and you can't help but cough a little. You stare up at him with wide, hungry eyes, and he chuckles softly.

"How do you like it?" He asks, a new warmth to his eyes.

You smack your lips together a few times then look up at him through your lashes.

"I try again?"

He nods, cocking his head to the side in confusion when you push his hand down and lean toward him.

You press your lips to his, tongue darting out immediately to meet his, to taste the cigarette in his mouth.

He lets out a hum of surprise. It's not like his little mouse to initiate intimacy like this.

He responds by deepening the kiss, tossing his cigarette onto the ground and wrapping an arm tightly around your waist, keeping you pinned to his body.

You tug away after a moment, giggling breathlessly like a teenager in love.

"Dangerous game you're playing, mouse," he growls, one hand squeezing the flesh of your backside.

You only tuck your bottom lip between your teeth and bat your eyelashes innocently up at him. Your hands smooth over his chest, up his neck where you knot your fingers in his blond hair.

His free hand finds your hip and squeezes you tightly once in warning.

"Don't start something you can't finish, little one. I'll fuck you right here and you know that."

A shiver ripples down your spine at his brash words. He's so blunt and to the point and it makes heat pool between your legs.

You give his hair a gentle tug and bring your lips toward his ear.

"Maybe... maybe I want that."

He grins and leans down, dragging his nose over your throat until he finds the spot he wants to sink his teeth into.

A soft gasp falls from your lips at the stinging pain, and he's quick to smooth over the spot with his tongue.

"Y'want me to fuck you up here? Where anyone can hear? Anyone could see?"

Your breath hitches and your eyes flutter closed as you tilt your head to the side, giving him more access to your smooth neck.

"You hurt men who look at me before. Nobody will look."

If he wasn't so aware of how fucked up he is, he'd probably be ashamed of how hard your statement makes him.

Because it's true. He's killed men for looking at you, touching you, and that's not about to change.

If anyone thinks they can look at you like that, while he's ravishing you, they have another thing coming.

And if a man ever feels bold enough to try to touch you? He'll be praying for death by the time Ghost's done with him.

He grips your jaw tightly and forces your head back so he can assault your mouth with sloppy hot kisses, a new fire sparked within him.

You melt into him with a mewl that he devours, letting him move you around and maneuver you in whatever way he likes.

Why wouldn't you? He's your Ghost, he always takes care of you. And you're sure this will be no exception.

He hoists you up, big hands splaying across your ass when you wrap your legs around his waist.

Your arms wind around his neck and you cling to him, squeaking in surprise at his quick movements.

He's unfazed, peppering kisses down your neck as he lowers himself to his knees with you attached to his body like the added weight is nothing. And to him, it might as well be.

He doesn't even want to think about how easy it would be to manhandle you, to break you if he really wanted to.

Instead, he focuses on how easily you accept his kisses, his hands on your skin, his hips rutting into yours when he lays you on your back.

You dig your head into the ground beneath you when he gives a particularly firm thrust of his hips. Your eyes flutter open and you gasp at the beauty of the scene before you.

Your Ghost, his eyes full of fire and passion, is all-consuming, and he's framed by the most beautiful night sky you think you've ever seen.

You could die happily right here.

But not before an orgasm or two.

Ghost kisses his way up to your mouth, keeping you blissfully occupied as his skilled fingers work the buttons of your pants, shoving them down your legs.

He does the same with your shirt, yanks it up as high as he can and slides a big warm hand into your bra, squeezing one of your breasts and rolling his thumb gingerly over your nipple.

You whine against his mouth, hips rocking desperately, and he chuckles against you.

"Eager, are we?"

Pouting, you pull your lips from his and give him your best puppy dog eyes.

"Ask for what you want, mouse."

Some of the heat from your core floods upward to your face, and you nervously toy with his sweater.

"Want you," you murmur softly, sweetly.

"How do you want me? Where?"

Your eyes meet his and you take the hand on your breast and slowly push it between your legs, sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of his skin so close to where you need it most.

"Here, please."

He hums, nodding thoughtfully as he gently strokes his middle finger through your folds, rubbing your clit absentmindedly.

"You want me to play with this pretty little cunt? Is that what you want? Want me to make you cream under the stars, my pretty girl?"

You nod, squirming on the ground beneath him when he leans back and yanks your pants off fully. He pushes between your thighs once more, eyes stuck on your core, and you whine softly.

"Please, Simon."

His eyes snap up to yours at the use of his first name, and he feels the need to comply. To do anything and everything you ask of him.

He holds your gaze as he lowers himself onto his stomach between your legs, and you can't help the butterflies that fill you at the sight, the idea of what he's about to do.

Pushing his mask up the tiniest bit more, he spits on your cunt, grinning when you jolt, a sharp gasp leaving you.

"Be good f'me, wanna taste you."

He hooks his arms under your thighs, hoisting your legs up over his broad shoulders. One big hand is splayed on your lower abdomen while the other grips the top of your thigh tightly as he darts his tongue out and finally gets a taste of that which he craves.

His tongue works slowly at first, almost experimentally. Tasting you, exploring you in a way that no one else has, and that no one else ever will.

His eyes roll back for a moment, and he groans at the taste of you. Tangy and sweet, everything he never knew he needed and so much more.

Once he's satisfied with his first meet, he really gets to work, flattening his hand against you to pin your hips down as he latches his mouth onto your dripping core.

A soft moan falls from your pretty lips and his eyes lock onto your face, watching intently as you begin to make the sweetest little sounds.

His tongue works over your clit, massaging at first before applying more pressure.

"Oh!" You cry out, one hand flying down to the top of his head, grabbing a fistful of his balaclava. He snakes one hand away to cover yours, wrapping your hand around the black fabric and encouraging you to tug it off.

You keep your eyes shut tightly as you do, following his guidance as he drops the black fabric onto the ground then brings your hand back to the top of his head, allowing you to thread your fingers through his hair.

The strands are soft against your skin and you can't help but give a soft tug, smiling when he groans against you.

He immediately gets back to work, sucking your clit into his mouth harshly, relishing in the squeak you let out.

He repeats the action a few times before bringing a hand down to join his mouth.

Two thick fingers push their way inside of you, gently massaging your walls while his mouth continues its assault on your clit.

Your back arches, yanking on his hair a little bit harder as you grind your hips against his face.

He eases a third finger inside of you, spreading them slowly and stretching you out before he begins sliding them in and out. Each time he plunges them deeper, and you cry out when he hits your g-spot.

His eyes are focused on your face, watching as your eyes stay shut. Pretty sounds fall from prettier lips, and he wishes he had a camera out to take a picture of you when your orgasm washes over you.

Your mouth drops open and your core clenches, squeezing his fingers to the point he has no room to keep thrusting.

Your thighs clench tightly around his ears, and your nails scratch deliciously at his scalp.

Your shoulders shudder and you suck in a sharp breath, a quivering moan leaving you as you rock your hips through your high.

He slowly pulls his mouth off of your cunt, kissing his way up your body, stopping for a moment to pay close attention to each breast.

His tongue flutters around your nipple, teeth grazing lightly before he repeats the action on the other side. He slips his fingers from your heat, leaving only his middle finger inside of you, pumping shallowly.

Finally, his lips meet yours and you can't help but gasp, immediately melting into it. You can taste yourself on his mouth and it only makes you hungrier, more desperate for him.

"More," you whisper against his mouth, rocking your hips into his hand.

He chuckles, pulling away and latching his mouth onto your neck.

"Greedy girl."

He rolls you onto your stomach effortlessly, pushing you onto your knees and urging you to keep your chest on the rough ground.

The deep arch in your back puts your cunt on display, and he can't help but groan at the sight. All sloppy and wet, dripping and drooling for him.

He shoves his own pants down his legs, freeing his aching cock. He hisses at the feeling of the cool air against his hot skin, shifting forward to slide his length through your twitching folds.

You whine at the feeling, digging your nails into the ground.

"Please," you whisper, wiggling your hips back the tiniest bit only to receive a harsh smack on your ass.

You yelp, and Simon's quick to soothe the stinging area, stroking your skin gently before spreading you apart to watch as he nudges his cock at your wet little hole.

You hold your breath as he slowly pushes inside of you, filling you up inch by thick inch, until he's fully sheathed within you, balls pressed tightly against your clit.

Your body trembles beneath him, and he can't tear his eyes away from where the two of you are connected.

He pulls his hips back, groaning at the drag against your tight walls. Your pussy grips him tightly, visibly clinging to his cock as he pulls out slowly, only to push right back in.

The stretch of him is so good, so much, and it makes your head spin.

He's no better.

He has to consciously stop himself from drooling as his eyes stay glued to your tight cunt, the way it clamps down on him. The way he stretches your body to its most intimate limits, and you let him. You ask him to.

His Mouse, soft and pliant beneath him like he couldn't tear you in half if he tried.

The thought makes a sound akin to a growl rumble in his chest, and he grabs you by the back of your neck and hauls you up, pinning your back against his chest.

His head presses beside yours while he wraps an arm around your waist, keeping your body pinned to his as he begins to bully his cock into your small, waiting body.

"Simon," you gasp, grabbing his wrist as he forces every thick inch of it into your snatch.

It's too much too soon, and you're not sure if you can take it. Your poor little cunt is already aching at the stretch of his fat cock, but he's determined.

Your pussy throbs around him, each thrust hitting that sweet spot inside of you that has you seeing stars.

"S-Simon... oh..."

He groans in your ear, pushing you back down and tugging your arms behind your back.

You huff out a heavy breath, pressing your cheek to the ground as he pins your wrists to the small of your back.

He fucks into you harder, faster, getting off on the power he has over you, the trust you've so willingly given to him.

"Wanna feel you cream f'me," he whispers hoarsely, eyes focused on the mess dripping from between your legs every time he pulls his hips back.

You only whine, cunt clenching at his words.

"Tell me who you belong to," he orders, hand dropping from your hip to find your clit.

You cry out softly when his skilled fingers begin rubbing circles around it, the sensation making your toes curl.

"Say it," he snarls, hips speeding up when he feels your walls clamp down on his cock.

"Simon!" You finally gasp, arching your back as your climax washes over you, the stars behind your closed lids rivalling the ones above you.

"That's right." The words are said more to himself than to you as he chases his own high.

He pulls almost all the way out as his cock twitches, cum spilling inside of you, and then he fucks his way back into you, painting your walls white, claiming you from the inside.

Slowly, he stills his hips, leaning back onto his haunches and pulling you with him to keep his cock lodged inside of you, making sure not a drop spills out between you.

You whine at the movement, nestling your ass against his hips and carefully pushing yourself up onto your elbows as you catch your breath.

Tilting your head back, your teary, lust-clouded eyes find the stars once more, and Simon groans when your walls flutter around him again.

Gently, the way he is with only you, he smooths a rough hand over the delicate skin of your back, smiling lightly to himself at the goosebumps that rise.

Eventually, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you up against him again, this time peppering gentle loving kisses against your neck as he slides his cock out of you.

The two of you groan at the loss, and he's quick to drop his fingers to your centre, lazily fucking them into you to prevent any of his seed from leaving your body.

"How you feelin?" He asks, fingers toying inside of your sensitive folds.

You whine, turning and seeking out his lips.

He's quick to give you what you want, kissing you sweetly and softly as if he wasn't fucking you within an inch of your life only minutes before.

"Can I bring you inside? Run a nice hot shower 'n bring you to bed?" He asks against your lips, grinning when you nod.

He pulls his fingers out of your core and pops them in his mouth, humming at the taste of the two of you.

He helps you dress, ever the gentleman, and spins you to face him before he's put his balaclava back on.

You stare up at him with wide eyes as he finally bares his face to you, and you feel awe bubble in your stomach.

Nervous fingers flutter over his face before finally resting on his skin, and he holds your waist as you take your time mapping out the new skin.

You trace over the scar on his lip, the one you've grown familiar with in all the times he's kissed you. The thin few on his jaw, one on the bridge of his nose that faintly drags across his cheek if you look closely enough.

Then your eyes finally return to his, and you suddenly feel shy under his gaze.

"What?" He asks, tugging you closer when you shy away.

You bite your bottom lip and press a kiss to his jaw, kissing up over his cheek and toward his ear.

"Pretty," you whisper, kissing your way back to his mouth and swallowing his chuckle.

His tongue finds yours for only a moment before he's pulling away again.

"Yeah? Think m'pretty?"

You nod, resting your chin on his chest so you can stare up at him, his lovely face framed by the beautiful night sky.

"Very pretty."

You thought the view was amazing before, but now? Now it's something that will stay ingrained in your brain forever.

And you're not upset about that. Not one bit.

[mina-org]

Yandere Johnny was amazing. Please… more… 🫠🫠🫠🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

What happens at the cabin and great job finding such a remote crazy location for them?! Shivers.

Brain rot aside, it was amazing how well you fleshed out Reader! The backstory and motivations make sense.

♥️

I hope you enjoy <3!! ill be real I struggle to write Johnny because of his dialect I guess? but im working on it and im learning Scots (the language) with my niece so hopefully ill get better but if anyone has any tips let me know

part one here

“come on hen, let’s get ya home.” His words are washed away by the salty air, you’re lost to dreams, he can wait for you to see it, its picturesque, waves crashing over rocks, views of the impetuous sea, occasional seal spotting. He’s sure you’ll love it.

His arm hook underneath you as he pulls your unconscious form into his own, cradling you in his arms like he was always supposed to, the way you nestle your face into his chest just solidifies that you’re his. You know it, your body craves him just as he craves you.

Soon enough he passes the threshold and arrives at your new bedroom, it’s bare, the whole house is a little bare but johnny wanted you to feel comfortable too, he wanted it to be the home of dreams but that took time and the two of you so he had to wait until you were here.

He did, thankfully get the plushest duvet and pillows, he breathes a sigh of relief as he watches you burrow into comfort like a like a little rabbit, his eyes stay trained on you and he can’t help that his smirk widens, lingering in the room like a fox waiting to strike. 

The sent of burning floods your nose as you wake, the soft putter of rain serves as you hear an agitated huff from the kitchen.

You go to see what is going on, you peek past the door and your greeted by a sight that brings the blood to your cheeks and twirls your insides, gym guy, you’ll have to ask for his name, maybe he already told you it and it slipped your mind, you hope he doesn’t take it wrong, you feel your body cringe as you practice how you’ll ask him.

He stands in a white wife beater which accentuates every muscle on his torso and it’s too small, revealing tantalising valleys to below his sweatpants which leave answers for questions you didn’t know you had, like is he big? and where is it? 

You nearly miss the burnt pant he holds, trying to scrap up any remnants of food with a silicone spatula which is just not working out well.

“Sorry hen, nae good in the kitchen but I’m working on it. Cereal alright?”

 “Cereals good”

I know I should’ve asked sooner but what’s your name?

He playfully brings his hand up to his chest and clenches down, the fabric gathers, hiking up and revealing more of his abdomen

“Yer mean ya don’t me name? Yer weans are gonna wear it.” He regrets the comment as soon as it leaves his lip, he doesn’t want you to be scared, mentioning you birthing his kids might be a little too soon but if you were gonna freak out it would have been in the car, right? What if you’re just playing a long game? As the thoughts fly through his head he maintains eye contact, never looking away. It’s only when your voice calls out to him he’s able to pull out his own head and realises he might have been a little, tiny bit unsettling.

“I’m sorry, I just, um forgot and I know that’s not nice but it wasn’t on purpose” a voice so soft, so anxious, sometimes johnny just wanted to lean forward and lick you. He was sure you’d taste like strawberry sherbet, he longed for the gentle fizz on his tongue. 

Johnny almost wanted to giggle, you were apologising to him? After the whole stalking and kidnap you thing? Well you didn’t know about the stalking thing yet and he wasn’t going to tell you, that’s all water under the bridge.

“It’s johnny, hen, can you say it for me?” Suddenly the predator like grin returns and the teasing drips from his voice.

“Johnny,” you repeat softly, tasting it on your tongue, johnny doesn’t miss how your eyes always find their way back to his biceps. 

“What do you like do for work?” You ask quickly, eager to push past the name situation, afraid he’ll . 

“Used to be military but a nasty knock tae me head sent me home, but I didnae really have a home to go to i was just with me mates for a bit.” Johnny can’t help the way his face falls, for as long as he can remember he’s been labelled as disrupted and destructive, his parents had never known quite how to handle and ended up treating him like a dog. This theme of being too much followed him into adult hood where he scared away every lassie who gave him a chance and found he had a handful of friends that only interested in good times and lacked a deeper attachment. Every perceived rejection was another stab, and the knife never stopped twisting, just sinking in further and further. 

“till I found ya ‘nd told ‘em i was off.” He laughs, “promised to invite ‘em to the wedding but we can elope, I know yer a shy wee bird.” 

You tilt your head, looking up at him, trying to stifle a laugh, not wanting to encourage him.

“Do they know that you’re like a kidnapper?” It’s supposed to be playful but johnny misses the tone, he’s your soulmate, not kidnapper. Or that’s how he sees it.

“Done much worse hen,” his voice is different, a subtle warning, that little comment almost felt like you wanted to leave him. Johnny knows what he is, you don’t. “‘nd they know yer safe. No where’s safer than right here.” His hand plants itself on your shoulder, nails begin to bulldozer through tender skin. 

“I’m sorry.” It comes out like a mouse’s squeak.

Johnny has to pull himself away. 

He knows he’s wrong and even if you were mad you had a right to be, but it stings like and old wounds are ripped open.  

“What cereal are yer wantin’?” He asks rummaging through the cupboards and your voice answers him softly, you stare out the window, beginning to question the man before you a little more, maybe you should have jumped ship on the ferry.

[enkvyu]

7:02pm — gojo satoru ; part two to this imagine

"gojo, your hair is in my mouth."

"you're lucky i washed it a few days ago."

you peer up at him over your phone. "a few days? how many? gojo, tell me."

gojo hums to himself and you hate that it might be serious consideration that he's under. "like maybe seven?"

you gag, flailing at your mouth and spitting out the few strands. you faintly hear gojo complain but it's overridden as you deal with your dilemma.

the two of you were curled inside the stomach of one of getou's curses as it flew across the ocean to arrive back at jujutsu high. the cramped space and gooey flesh makes you shiver, effectively increasing your poor mood, but perhaps the biggest detriment was the person you were stuck with.

sure, public transport was a viable option but yaga had specifically emphasised on the "top-secret" and "classified" written in big bold red letters on the mission file. this meant no one was to know, not ordinary people, not curses and not even other sorcerers.

granted, the school had access to one private jet which they were willing to offer, but that jet only had space for one.

the three of you had sat down and played a game of scissors paper rock to determine who takes it, and while you were lucky to win it for the trip forward, getou ends up victorious for the way back.

and now, you were stuck in close proximity with gojo inside the gut of a flying dragon.

"why are you in such a bad mood anyway?" gojo has the audacity to ask, as if he wasn't the sole reason why you were uncomfortable. you keep your mouth shut though, nothing good will come out of admitting your undying, and unfortunately unrequited, love for him.

"i'm in a perfectly fine mood."

"why do you look like that then, all constipated and everything? did you not go to the bathroom before we left?"

you curl your fingers into a fist and punch him in the chest. it hits his uniform, smearing some of the curses' stomach juice. "of course i did! i'm not a newbie sorcerer."

"ouch!"

"that didn't hurt you."

"how are you going to tell me how i feel?" gojo jabs back. "because it did hurt, it hurt my feelings."

"oh boohoo."

"so you are mad."

you bite your lip and turn away, finding the abdominal wall of the beast easier on the eyes than your own friend. "i'm not."

"you're sulking."

"i'm not." you hiss before taking in a deep breath. "look gojo, can we just stay quiet until we get there?"

gojo keeps staring at you through his glasses and his face fails to give his thoughts away. the suspense is killing you, but before you can relent and ask what he has to say, he clears his throat.

"i have something to tell you."

you sigh, rubbing at your head. "what is it?"

"wait, don't turn around and keeping looking at the wall. hey, what did i just say?"

"gojo, the view isn't really the best to sightsee. why can't i look at you?"

"because if you do, i don't think i can tell you after all."

you close your mouth. "is it that serious?"

"yeah." he clears his throat again, adjusting the collar of his uniform. "look, i know you've been weird around me the past few days and i don’t think it’s because i stretched out your uniform when i wore it last weekend. i don't know why you’re being mean to me, and shoko and getou won't tell me either."

you resist the urge to look at him. "you're having this kind of talk with me now? here? seriously?"

"you won't even stay in the same room as me for more than a few minutes! getou may call this curse his bad-luck curse but for me right now it's the only way to get you to listen to me." he stays quiet for a few seconds. "this is really serious, okay, so don't make any comments. i know you're practically brimming with them."

it was true you had a lot to say, but gojo's serious attitude was putting you off. still, having him call you out made you more aggravated and you let one slip. "well, this is really bad-luck for me."

gojo clicks his tongue and you can see the irritation on his face before his words are even coloured with it. "i'm not telling you this so you can feel the same way but—"

the curse suddenly tilts to the side, throwing you into gojo as the four walls of its stomach becomes a wheel, rotating you around. you yelp as your forehead hits him hard in the chest, tears springing to your eyes at the pain.

“what’s going on?”

the two of you spin round and round, and you can't distinguish your screams from gojo's as gravity plays you like a toy, throwing you around.

the movement makes you sick. "gojo, do something! blast it!"

"getou'll get mad if i kill another one of his curses!"

"are you kidding, we're going to die!"

gojo swears, grabbing you around the waist and pulling you into his chest. with his other arm, he holds out his hand and presses it on the flesh.

you tuck your chin in, squeezing your eyes shut when you realise he hadn't started chanting his technique. "what are you doing?" you look up at him and find him staring at the exit of the stomach through all the goo and chaos.

with a trembling finger, he points to it. you stare into the abyss, squinting your eyes to make out its indistinct shapes. what was that pulsing thing, attached to the side? and was it just you, but was it getting bigger?

with a start, you realise that the curse was about to throw up. and coincidentally, so were you.

"it's going to throw us up!" you share your realisation with gojo but the look on his face tells you he already arrived at the same thought.

he opens his mouth to say something, or scream you're not too sure as the walls of the stomach contracts. distantly, you feel gojo slide his other arm around you and his infinity takes over, shielding the two of you as you're forcefully ejected from the curse's mouth.

a scream escapes your throat as you escape the curse's, wind rushing through your ears. gojo swears again, bringing his arm up to protect your head.

you only know you're safe when you feel air again, the real kind, not the gas built up in the curse's stomach. a thud tells you gojo has landed on solid ground again and you've never felt more grateful to be alive, your entire body relaxing as your soul leaves.

gojo sighs with you, his hold slightly loosening.

getou watches as you're spat out, stepping out of the private jet with a big smile on his face. "you guys look rough."

you feel gojo tense his jaw rather than see it. "what was that for?"

getou shrugs, throwing a bag over his shoulder. he starts digging through it. "i told you that curse is some serious bad-luck. at least you both arrived in one piece.” he looks up and raises an eyebrow at you. “literally in one piece, are you guys going to stay like that forever?"

your mind slowly pieces together your position, still curled up in gojo's arms as he is sat on the pavement, before you leapt out. gojo makes no move to stop you, though you think he might have tsked.

"here, this is for you." getou finally pulls out what he was searching for from his bag and throws it at the two of you.

you catch it instinctively, studying the object in your hand. "a can of soda?"

"for surviving."

"that curse of yours is a safety hazard." you mutter, but accept the can. you crack open the lid and tilt your head back, taking a long, cool sip.

gojo stares down at the drink. "i told you i don't like this flavour!" he complains and you roll your eyes at his antics.

"then don't drink it."

"no. give me your one instead."

getou pauses, halfway to opening his own iced coffee. "huh? i got this for me. and you don't even like coffee! you should be glad i even got one for you in the first place."

"let's play a game of rock paper scissors to decide who gets it."

"no. i just told you i got this for me."

gojo stands up, taking a step forward menacingly. "huh? after what you put me through, you think i'm just going to take no for an answer?"

getou's eyes flicker to yours before he takes up gojo's challenge, activating his cursed technique. black liquid opens up the air beside him, a peering red eye on the other side. "can't handle rejection, gojo? because you better get used to it."

you take another sip as you watch the boys, absentmindedly wiping at a stain on your sleeve. you remember the feeling of gojo's arm around your body and you blush despite yourself.

"are you feeling sick?"

you look up to see that gojo had stopped fighting with getou, his entire attention on you.

"huh?"

"you're red in the face. you look like a tomato."

ignoring the last part, you hide your face behind your drink. "i'm fine."

getou looks between the two of you and there's a glint in his eyes that you've seen before, one that you've grown to dread.

he throws back the rest of his coffee, grimacing as it gives him a slight brain freeze, before crushing the can in his hand. gojo mutters a quick, "show off" that he ignores, instead chucking the can into a bin a few metres away.

"what a time." he starts saying, the words static. "that was great. well, now that i've finished my drink, i should head back inside."

“i should head in too. i smell real bad.” you sigh and give gojo a glare when he agrees.

“actually, can the two of you stay here? i think my curse isn’t feeling too well after eating you two. just until i come back, okay?”

you think there might be an ulterior motive but glancing over at the curse, you find that it did look greener than before.

"where are you going, and for how long?" you ask and hope the look in your eyes will make him stay.

"i need to tell yaga we finished the mission. you guys can just stay here, i've got it." then to you, he says, clenching his fist in support, "you got this."

you want to break his arm.

getou hurries away despite your silent plea, leaving you in an awkward silence with the one person you wanted to avoid most. you take multiple quick sips to busy yourself, but you can’t ignore the person standing by your side.

gojo shifts his balance to his other foot and the sound of his shoe against the pavement breaks the silence. "so."

"so."

"it's really bright, huh."

"you're wearing sunglasses."

"and do they completely cover my eyes? no they don't. i can still complain about the sun."

"just push your glasses up then."

"no." gojo huffs. "i look cooler this way."

"who told you that? because i know for a fact it wasn't anyone whose opinion actually matters." you jab back.

"your mum said that, actually."

"are you a child?"

"what, are you too cool for old jokes? they're iconic for a reason."

"and there's a reason why 'your mum jokes' died and should stay that way."

the natural way in which you banter with gojo gives you confidence. maybe it didn't matter that you liked him, or that he didn't like you back. it was enough that he was here with you now, joking around. perhaps you could even live with knowing that your unrequited love had come to an end, perhaps you could even pair them up yourself without a sense of bitter jealousy.

"i know you like getou." gojo says in one breath.

the peace you had come to, shatters.

"what?" you say in an inhale, and it comes out sounding weird.

gojo pouts, crossing his arms. "i'm right, aren't i? you like getou. i heard what you were saying to shoko that one time."

"don't eavesdrop on other people's conversations!"

"you were saying it pretty loudly, what was i meant to do? shut my ears?"

you wave away his whining. "stop, hold on. you think i like getou?"

gojo nods. "i don't think you do, i know. you said you like people like him."

"when did i ever say that? also, i'm not the one who likes getou, you are!"

"what?"

"what, what? you do, don't you? you told me yesterday that you liked getou."

"i never said that!"

"then who were you talking about?"

"who were you thinking about?" gojo shoots back. "because you didn't even hesitate when you explained your type to shoko. you were thinking of someone, weren't you?"

you gulp. "i asked first."

he looks at you long and hard and you stare back at your reflection through his glasses. his mouth opens and there's a mixed sense of dread and anticipation brewing in your stomach.

"tch."

"did you just click your tongue at me?"

gojo faces away. his jaw is tense as he blatantly ignores your question. "you're really annoying."

"huh? speak for yourself!"

"you have a problem with me?"

"i have a problem with your stupid attitude."

when gojo closes the distance between the two of you, you take a step back out of instinct. it doesn't matter though because gojo steps forward again, pushing you up against the curse getou had left behind. he slams a hand into the flesh of the curse and it makes a startled sound. the both of you ignore it. "it's you, idiot, i like—"

the force behind his slam is frightening, but the thought is torn from you when the sound of regurgitation grabs your attention. with a start, you turn around at the curse and find your phone on the ground at the entrance of the curse's mouth, covered in goo.

"my phone!" you exclaim, bending down to pick it up.

gojo backs up and groans loudly, but you don't care, wincing instead when the item is sticky.

"i didn't even know i lost this! thanks gojo, i think." your voice trails off wearily, holding up the phone and watching as viscous liquid slowly drips off it.

gojo rubs his face with his palm and you wonder why he looks so distressed. "that curse is seriously bad luck." meeting your eye, he points a finger at you. "listen to what i have to say!"

you raise your eyebrow at him. "damn okay, gojo's arrived." you mutter, wiping down the phone and pocketing it.

the clouds overhead parts, sunlight shining down in rays. the trees whistle in the summer breeze and light filters through the gaps in the leaves and branches. it hits gojo perfectly, adorning him in a golden light and you've never seen him so beautiful. guilt fills you at the thought and you hold your soda tighter.

he breathes in one more time. "i don't care that you like getou." he says. "because it doesn't matter to me. it just means i have to work harder to change your mind and get you to notice me instead."

"it's kind of hard to not notice you." you say. "i mean, look at what you're wearing."

gojo hisses. "don't ruin the mood, you're throwing me off. like i was saying, it's not your fault you like getou but i had to tell you this anyway, because it's been making my heart feel all prickly and stuff. so shut up and just stand there looking pretty, or whatever." his last few words trail off uncertainly, as if he never intended to say them at all.

"what are you even saying?" your heart picks up. was he about to confess?

"i'm saying that i think i like—"

"there you guys are!"

your head whips around at the voice, scanning the familiar landscape before settling on a single person. shoko stands metres away, waving a hand to grab your attention. "over here!"

"shoko!" a grin splits across your face. "i haven't seen you all day!"

"am i interrupting something?" she yells to get her voice across the distance.

you don't even look over at gojo as you shake your head. you had a feeling he was just going to tell you something you already knew, that he liked getou, anyway. “no! hold on, i'm coming over."

before you can run up to her, gojo grabs your arm, a deep frown etched on his face. "wait, you still haven't—!"

without another thought, you hand him your half-finished can of soda and wriggle out of his hold. "you can have the rest of that. i'll hear you out later, okay?"

"but the mood was so right!"

"look after the curse until getou’s back, later!"

gojo stands there in front of the bad-luck curse, one arm limp by his side and the other holding a can of blue soda. he watches as you fling yourself into shoko's arm, already listing all the things you've been saving up to tell her.

there's that prickly feeling again, gojo realises, noting the way the sun lightens the shade of your hair, the way your eyes curve up as you smile, and the way you hold onto shoko's hand, wishing that he had enough courage to hold yours.

defeated, battered and drained, gojo looks down at the can in his hand, and notes the slight lipstick stain on the rim.

with a red on his cheeks that didn't come from the sun, he presses the aluminium to his lips and takes a sip. it tastes sweet.

gojo decides that he'll just have to settle for this.

i hope this was okay considering i had no intentions of writing a part two. sorry for all the descriptions of stomachs and throw up, i was studying the digestive system 👎 if this isn’t what u guys expected feel free to leave a request !!

[dekariosclan]

Oh, wise oracle!

I remember reading somewhere that Early Access Gale says or suggests he'd only been with Mystra. Did I hallucinate that?

Ah, Anon! I so appreciate the ‘wise oracle’ greeting, but I do have to protest—I am definitely not the wise oracle of EA Gale! I showed up well after EA, not knowing who this ‘Baldur’ person was or why he felt it necessary to have a gate installed on his property. I then pulled a wizard out of a rock and well…here we are 😂

That being said: thank you for your ask anon! After I received it, I was curious myself as to what EA Gale might have said and if there was more dialogue about his relationship with Mystra. I was able to find this video on YouTube, and it’s a great watch for anyone who hasn’t seen it! It’s really interesting because you can see that originally, a huge chunk of Gale’s Act 1 scenes and his Act 2 romance were lumped together into the Tiefling party. There’s the flirty talk, the Art of the Night, lovemaking, his relationship with Mystra, him getting on his knees and showing Tav the orb, and even a snippet of the morning after conversation where Tav can ask if he still loves Mystra, etc.

This was the first time I ever saw footage of EA Gale’s romance, and I have to say I think almost all of the changes Larian made to it and to Gale’s character for the final game were the right call. Breaking up the scene into more fleshed-out portions and spreading them out over Act 1 and 2 flows much better, making the romance a slow-burn fits Gale’s situation much better, and making him less cocky (though I do enjoy the occasional dashes we see in the video 😂) and more vulnerable were, imho, all great choices that crafted the perfect pixel husband we have today.

But—the one thing I wish they hadn’t changed was EA Gale’s dialogue explaining what happened with Mystra, because it makes it very clear how Gale was manipulated and emotionally abused by her. And even though the essence of what he describes still remains in the final game, the fact that the dialogue was changed to be less direct and more subtle has led to some people incorrectly interpreting Gale’s actions as manipulating/gaslighting Mystra (???) even though one of the main themes of Bg3 is how each origin character is a victim of abuse from someone with power over them.

So I’m going to go over the Mystra portion, not only to answer your question, but also to discuss the dialogue a bit more in-depth.

First, your question: Does EA Gale suggest that he’s only been with Mystra?

When Gale tells Tav that his talents earned him the attention of Mystra, Tav asks what that felt like. Gale responds that it felt like “love,” and then says:

This, I think, is what your question was referring to. This definitely indicated that Mystra was Gale’s first love, and the fact that he was ‘a very young man’ at the time would also suggest that it was his first romantic relationship as well.

I have to say I’m glad that Larian changed this in the final game, with Gale clearly explaining that Tav is not the first mortal he’s been with. I personally think it makes the romance sweeter, because it proves that Gale loves Tav because they’re Tav, and not just because they’re his first mortal lover.

Also, the current game makes it clear that Gale is no longer in love with Mystra (though again, some people seem to misinterpret the fact that he still talks about their past relationship to mean he still loves her?) whereas the EA dialogue had him less certain about being over her. Again, I’m glad Larian changed that and made it clear he only has eyes for Tav.

Now, here’s where it gets very interesting and where I wish they had kept the dialogue the same:

Tav asks if Gale is saying he made love to a Goddess. Gale confirms, then continues:

Tav asks what happened next, and Gale says:

Tav says: “Let me guess: he proposed?” and Gale replies:

Gale then goes into the full backstory of the orb, which is essentially what we see in the current game.

But my god, the Mystra dialogue was so much better here! In the current game, the seduction/manipulation aspect is most clearly explained when Gale says, ‘I was an amusement to her, a mortal to be trifled with, amused, and eventually discarded.’ That line perfectly describes everything that happened, but to also have the EA lines about Mystra’s actions would have, I hope, left a lot less people confused in regards to who was in the wrong:

Mystra sought out Gale because of his talent and because he could be of great use to her

She seduced him, and did so easily because he was an innocent young man and powerless before a goddess’s charms

She toyed with him, let him fall in love with her, then spurned him and broke his heart

She cast him out to die alone after he tried to win her back by proposing to her an with impressive, but dangerous, gift—even though she knew he’d had no idea what he’d done, and he’d only made this mistake because he was a lovesick young man whom she had seduced

And all of that is not even taking into consideration the fact that she later tells him to kill himself in order to ‘earn her forgiveness.’..

Mystra, when I catch you—

So, yes, I do wish they would have kept all of that dialogue in, and for one other reason, too: it makes it even more poignant when Gale attempts to ‘propose’ with the offer of Godhood for Tav in the Act 3 boat scene. Because this dialogue would have made it very clear he’s repeating the same ‘folly’ he made with Mystra, by proposing with an offer of power, because he assumes that’s all he has of worth to offer his beloved. So to have Tav say I don’t want/need power—i just want you—it’s even sweeter after everything Gale has gone through.

And finally!

I loved seeing that Gale is still the cutest cutiepie in EA, just like he is in our final game version:

🥹💜

(Edited to add an important note: If you’d like to read some excellent meta from a true EA expert, please check out @galedekarios’s blog which has a ton of info! She also has a great post on this same subject with a more in-depth analysis of how/why the Mystra dialogue was changed.)

[aestrayla]

cherries or peaches? ft. obey me! brothers

summary: do they prefer ass or boobs? ft. obey me! brothers x f!reader

cw: highly suggestive, mdni, fluff??, pet names (darling, sweetheart), fondling, groping, MY HUMOUR..

word count: 1.5k

a/n: sorry for some of them being so short, it was actually kind of challenging trying to elaborate on the ideas rather than just plainly stating them out as they are, but i hope u still enjoy them just as much as i enjoyed writing them ^^ also, don't mind my shitty humour in the last two + i haven’t written for most of these characters before so they might sound off idk??

at first, it was hard to tell whether lucifer preferred ass or boobs.

he would always reply to you with a, "i prefer them both, equally," or a, "why should i choose when i can like them both?"

it drove you crazy because you clearly asked him to choose either one or the other. he was always dodging the question and at some point, you even got the brothers in on this, some bets were made too.

"it's obvious he likes ass more, have you seen the way he looks at y/n when they're wearing that skirt he bought for them?"

"nah he totally like boobs more, he can't keep his eyes off ‘em whenever they're wearin' a tight shirt!"

soon you started to take these signs into account, wearing much more revealing things to try and catch a reaction out of him, but to your demise, he never seemed to crack.

after weeks of bet-making and skin-revealing lucifer had finally had enough. the two of you were both lying in bed, facing one another while his arms were wrapped around your waist.

"y/n," he whispered.

"mhm?" you hummed in response.

"isn't it obvious i like these better?"

he pulled himself closer to you as his face buried against your chest. oh you thought. he had always found comfort sleeping against you like this, his head stuffed between your boobs while his arms wrapped around you tightly, that it became natural and you had almost forgot he did it.

"shit— you should've told me earlier! now we've all lost our bets to mammon!" you whined.

you could hear his muffled chuckles vibrate against your body as you wrapped your arms around his head, squeezing him closer.

mammon is 100% an ass-loving guy, no questions asked.

with mammon, no matter what you're doing, what you're wearing, where you are, or who you're with, he just loves touching you all the damn time.

whether you're walking through the halls of RAD to your next class or taking a stroll through the devildom while window shopping, he won't hesitate to sneak his hands up your skirt to feel your plump ass.

"mammon stop, we're in public!" you glare as you swat his hands away.

"’m sorry can't help it, just gotta have my hands all over ya!"

oh well, maybe next time he’d be lucky enough to sneak his hands further down your skirt and— who knows, you might just find yourself begging him for more.

and if it's just the two of you in your own company, you'll always find that his hands like to slip past the waistband of your panties just to lay onto your cheeks, rubbing and squeezing at the plump flesh. always smiling in delight as you squirm under his carnal touch.

as much as you like to complain, he always swears that "it's just comfortable!" or "my hands were just cold!"

there is no doubt in my mind that leviathan wouldn't be on team cherries.

he always lets you sit on his lap whenever he's grinding a video game or on an anime-watching marathon. a recent occurrence you've taken note of is that, almost as if it's a reflex, he'll always end up having a hand or two resting on your boobs, casually squeezing at it as if he owns the thing.

"you must be real comfortable there, levi." you teased, motioning to where his hand laid.

"huh— OH! um, I-I'M SORRY I DIDN'T MEAN TO!" he shot his hands up in defense. "it's just really soft… and warm... I'm sorry y/n." his face was bright red.

"it's fine, i was just teasing you, silly!"

there was also a time where you scolded levi for owning one of those mouse pads where ruri-chan’s the characters boobs would be squishy.

in desperate need to make it up to you, he custom ordered a version with you on it, only because he swears out of all his waifus, you're his absolute favourite.

it was a rainy night, and in the comfort of the library beside a crackling fireplace, you were messing around on your d.d.d while satan was next to you, reading what you assumed to be a mystery book.

"hey satan?" you put your d.d.d down for a moment, turning to look at him.

"hm?" he hummed, while keeping his eyes glued to the page.

"do you prefer ass or boobs?"

he pauses to look up at you and closes his book, placing it beside him, all while sighing.

"what does it look like i prefer?" he deadpans.

you break his eye contact as you look down to see his left hand buried under your sweater, which was fondling with your boob this entire time.

"so... boobs?"

he replies while picking his book up again, "yes darling, don't ask such foolish questions."

asmo loves boobs. your boobs to be specific.

don't blame him, your boobs are just so pretty and he loves pretty things.

the way they sit when you're wearing a low-cut garment, or the way they shine when you're having a bubble bath together. he loves it all.

as you know, asmo loves pampering you and surprises you with random gifts whenever he finds something that he'd love to see you in.

one night as he's doing your hair after a bath, he suddenly remembers something and stands to walk to his closet.

"the other day when i was shopping at majolish, i found this super pretty bra i thought you'd look just gorgeous in!" he approaches you with a box wrapped neatly with a ribbon.

as you open the box, you set your eyes on a beautiful red laced bra.

"are you sure i'd look good in this?"

"you look perfect in everything sweetheart, you know i’d never lie about that."

he's always buying you pretty things to wear, and trust me when i say, this definitely isn’t the first bra he's ever gotten you.

beel could not care less about choosing between your ass or boobs. they're both squishy and feel nice in his hands so it didn't really matter to him. well, not until today.

getting up from the edge of the bed and turning your heel to face him, you asked, "did you know a new cafe opened up in the devildom recently?"

"really? what food do they sell there?" he asked, his eyes looked as if there were stars in them.

"well apparently their cakes are a specialty, they're pretty popular for it."

"cake?" he drooled, "i love cake! hey we should go to the cafe right now, i'm starving." he sat up from the edge of the bed, drooling like a puppy dog.

little did he know, you decided to be a little jokester today.

"oh you're starving right now? then here," you turn around, bending over.

"what are you doing y/n?"

you turn your head back to look at his confused expression, "you said you were starving right? the cake's right here," you pointed to your ass.

he stares at you for a moment. then at your ass. then back at you again.

"so there's no cafe, is there?" he wipes his drool away with the back of his hand.

"nope. but there sure is cake," you smile cheekily while shuffling closer.

he sighs while grabbing ahold of your thighs, dragging you just inches away from his lips, "you're lucky i like this kind of cake too."

as long as he can sleep on them, belphie will like them no matter what. so when it comes to choosing between your ass or boobs, it can be a hard decision just to choose one.

belphie's "sleepability" criteria is: soft, warm and comfortable; and your boobs and ass were equal competition.

he sighs, "if i have to choose one over the other, i'd rather sleep on your ass all day" his reasoning being because your ass has more of an "even surface" compared to your boobs.

if you're ever just lounging around the house of lamentation, on your stomach specifically, within seconds you'll feel belphie's arms wrap around your legs while he lays his head onto you.

its crazy how instantly he falls asleep on you. he'd stay like that forever if you didn't have to get up to pee or because your legs fall numb.

"c'mon belphie, i needa pee so bad!" you squirm.

"mmmphh," he grumbles, half-asleep, while hugging onto your legs even tighter.

"hurry up or i'll fart on your face!" you threaten him jokingly.

"OKAY, OKAY!" he shoots up from his position and is scrambling to the edge of the bed. you laugh in response because it works every time.

"and i was having a good dream too!" he scowled, while rubbing his left eye from sleep.

looking for pt.2? you can find it here ♡

©2023 aestrayla. do not modify, copy, translate or share.

[ghostieyanyan]

I like to stir up some drama for the Yandere twst boys 😈 I always would like to think that what if a few of the boys fell for MC but they turned them down because they already have a lover back in their world. Or their old lover is dead and MC would never love again since they’re still grieving. I would like to see the boys reactions, especially the more jealous and dangerous ones like Floyd, Jamil, Malleus or even Ace

oohhh yess the drama~ we gotta love some good dangerous jealous boys. i bet theyll get mad and they might do something... awful.

~Mc with lover at home/dead~

Yan!Floyd x mc

Yan!Jamil x mc

Yan!Malleus x mc

Yan!Ace x mc

Warnings: drowning, kidnapping, threats, game of cat and mouse?, stalking, blood, broken mirror

~~~~~

Floyd

Floyd doesnt like a lot of things... he doesnt like it when things dont go his way.. especially if that thing makes him work his butt off. a thing like... you.

From the day you caught his eye, it was when you stood up to azul to protect baby seal, crabby, and little mackerel. For one, a magicless human demanding something of azul was laughable, hilarious even. Plus how persistence you were, which was also a great charm he liked, when your little group, plus sea urchin, had get that photo azul requested. even when you knew you didnt have a chance to pass 2 mermen eels, you still got the photo and tricked azul and destroying all his contacts?! you were tough and he loved it.

after that, he tried to get to know you better any chance he got!!

theres a basket ball game and he wants you to come? he will annoy crabby and sea snake, with his poor performance, saying "if shrimpy isnt going, whats the point..?" he does it so much that the entire team goes to the ramshackle dorm, begging you to come to the game. floyd played great and won the match.

if there was a group assignment in class? Floyd will throw a fit and threaten anyone that even looks at you to be their partner. to the point, where the teachers just have to comply to his demands.

if you and your group of first years come to the Louge, he'll shove everyone off to lay on your lap. isnt he a cute eel?

After a while of this, floyd finally decided to ask you out (from Azul and Jade's suggestion because they were getting tired of complains about floyd's behavior).

He asked if you could come with him, outside of NRC. He wanted to show you something. He brought you to the beach shore. the sun was setting and it shine beautifully on the surface of the water. you thanked him for the pretty view, it almost made up for everything he's been putting you through recently.

when you turned to Floyd, he got on one knee and asked... he had a ring! it was a pretty pearl ring that he got himself. he had to go through a lot of clams to find the "perfect one for shimpy"

you were, of course, startled. but you explained to him that you had someone at home and you bet they missed you a lot. you tried to laugh the awkwardness away but before you could apologized again. floyd stood up and pulled out a potion vile? he quickly gulped it down and grabbed you, shoving you into the ocean with him!

when you opened your eyes, you were underwater and he was in his mermen form. he pulls you into a hug, a tight one. you thought it was sweet at first until..- you needed air! you tried to struggle against him and tapping him repeatedly, in a way to say "i to go up for air!" but he just wouldnt move.

"no."

"...?!?!"

"you arent going to that home. your new home... is with me, shrimpy~ we'll make a new home here~"

you tried to struggle more but it was pointless, you were losing air and it hurts. your lungs burned and his grip on you, his claws were digging into your flesh! you tried to dig your fingers into his sides but it was pointless.

you let out a finally gasp before falling limp into Floyd's arms.

~

~

without text

~~~~~

Jamil

Jamil doesnt really get attached to people a lot. everyone always wanted the "great an amazing Kalim," leaving him on the side lines. it hurt a lot at first but now he's just came to expect it...

Even in NRC, kalim still gets the spot light and jamil gets kicked to the side lines.

Kalim wanted to throw a party in the middle of the school week and jamil was in the kitchen. he was studying for an exam coming up and he needs to be "close" if anything were to happen. Meanwhile, kalim was in the main lounge partying with everyone... we know hes not gonna pass...

while Jamil was trying to study... you step in. you both stared at each other for a second... then you asked if you could get a cup of water? Jamil sighs and stood up to get you a glass..

"why are you here..? shouldn't you be.. partying too..?"

"im just refreshing on the material for the exam.."

Jamil hands you the cup and walks back to his spot on the kitchen table. you meekly followed him. on the table there were textbooks, notebooks, and different types of pens and pencils. you looked at his noted and you noticed how neat they were! some words were under-lined and bolded, some had highlights to help catch the eye. jamil noticed your stare and looks up at you.

"is there anything else i could help you with..?"

"o-oh! sorry, i just... your notes look really nice.."

you awkwardly sipped your cup. Jamil rolled his eyes and got back to his notes.

"ya.. its for kalim, whenever hes done partying, hell look at my notes right before the exam and fails the exam anyways.."

he dropped his pen on the table and rubbed his face, sighing heavily.

"haha! that's what ace, deuce, and grim do! out of the 4 of us, i write the notes! deuce tries to, ace doesn't bother, and grim.. sleeps. and with our study sesh, its not like it helps much. as an 'other worlder' i have better grades then they do combined! haha"

jamil stares at you as you laughed and he cracks a smile. its been a while since someone's situation was similar to his.

"hey... do you need any help with the up coming exam..?"

he's voice stammered while saying that... why? you looked at him and smiled. you both spend the rest of the night studying together. this was only the beginning.

now whenever you're alone, jamil will come by to give a helping hand. grim ate all your food? here, he accidentally made extras. do you need help with homework? meet him in the court yard, he'll help. the more he helped, the more his feelings for you grew, he only wished the feelings were mutual.

but the dreaded day came.. you had to return home. he chose that night to finally confess his feelings for you, hoping you'll throw away this vision on returning home and just come home with him.

when you told him that you had a past-lover that died and that you'll never love anyone again. he just snapped.

...!

with blood mix with mirror shards in his hand, he used snake whisper on you and brought you... home. good thing he did this after you said good bye to everyone.

~

~

without text

~~~~~

Malleus

to say malleus had an eye for the perfect is an understatement. from the day he met them, to the silly nickname they gave him, he had fallen hard.

he had to ask lilia for advice on how to charm the perfect. if flowers were too much for after knowing them for a week..? is his gifts in the night too much?

he just had to leave the gifts in your room because you were either not home or sleeping and he didn't want to disturb you. you liked so peaceful when you slept...

he wanted so badly to make you his then and there but he wanted the moment to be special for both of you. for him, he'll get someone who loves him and charish him. as much as he does you. For you, getting a loving dragon fae husband and becoming a queen of the briar valley. youre guarantee a great life with him! you wouldnt have to be hungry or buying the cheapies things that sam could offer. you will eat and sleep and care for like you are royalty because you will be royalty and be viewed with the highs respect, like malleus.

lilia had warned him to not rush this process. humans can be delikit creatures and some can get startled easiely. Sadly malleus didnt heed his warning and malleus choose to confess to you!

He choose a beautiful forest openning. he had a picnic set up with your favorites and he planned it so that you and malleus would watch the sunset and be out there to watch the stars. it would have been perfect... if it wasn't for you different views.

"oh! im really sorry, hornton.. um.. im actually taken! theyre back in my world but i bet theyre problay worried sicked about now. hehe.."

malleus was still... very still. in that moment, he didnt see red like he thought he would... everything just got dark for him. he wanted so badly to just disappeared and leave you there to be lost in the forest.. but he loved you too much for that. even when you ripped out his heart. the nerve you have to act like this to The malleus draconia...

he walked you home that night.. and told lilia what happened.

"oh dear... im sorry malleus. i didnt know someone has already stolen their heart."

lilia was flying over malleus's head, patting it. the head pats werent helping. the only head pats that will sooth him would be from his child of man, apologizing for their silly joke and saying its just a silly human tradition for courting...

"but... if perfect were to be persweaed into staying in twisted wonderland~ their world would... be nothing but a dream, right~?"

Malleus later asked you to stop by his dorm. he wanted to talk about that night. which you were happy for, you got worried when he didnt come to your dorm at his usial time..

when you got there, it was early quiet... no one in sight. you knew your way around so it wasnt a problem but every fiber in your body was screaming for you to go.

When you got to malleus room. he was at his desk writing something.

"Child of man... i have put some thought on what you said on our outing and ive decided to forgive you."

he stood up and walked over you. it never scared you before but him being so close and how its dark in his room, plus his glowing green eyes, didnt calm your nervse.

"ive decided to show you how prefect we are together... youll love the life i can give you in briar valley~"

in your panick, you pushed him away and made a ran for it to the doors. the last thing you heard made your blood run cold.

"Lilia, silver, Sebek.... after them."

"khee hee~ /Yes, sir. /Yes sir!"

~

~

without text

~~~~~

Ace

Ace is a lot of things! Mean, sneaky, and a liar! He likes to tease you a lot. sometimes it fine cause "youre with your friends and hes just teasing everyone" but sometimes hes comments to you feel too... personal..

"haha! perfect, bet no one is looking for you back home! i mean why would they? youre problay useless there as like here."

you grew quiet as your other friends come to your defence from ace's comment.

"well.. jokes on you ace. i do have someone waiting for me back at home! they are sweet and i know for a fact that they are worried sick about me right now! so HA!"

your other friends started to ask questions about your world and this mysterious person that stole your heart. which you were happy to answer their question.

sadly, you didnt notice a sad looking red head as he thought about you returning to this person...

during his afternoon club activities, ace was so out of it, he had to be benched for most the the games...

"aww~ did shrimpy leave crabby high and dry~? hehe~"

"stop teasing him floyd. but really ace.. whats going on? your game play sucks today."

"jamil.. i-"

"hehe~ its because crabby found out that when shrimpy leaves, theyre not gonna think about him at all any more. youll be washed up on the shore, stuck on your back, and shrimpy wont be there to help."

with every word floyd said, he got closer to ace. really digging deep that ace is losing you. in ace's fustrastion, he pushed the two guys away, grabbed his stuff, and headed out..

~

time had past and crowley (finally) gave you the mirror to return home! you were going around each and every dorm to give them gifts and saying your good byes.. but when you were in Heartlabyul, ace wasnt there..? Deuce explained that he problay when out but he'll make sure he'll stop by your dorm to say his good byes..

he didnt come by... and you had to leave without saying good bye to him..

~

it took a long while to get used to everything back in your world and explaining twisted wonderland to your parnter could have gone better. (they were on the fence to bring you to a pysc wraned..). your partner left to get you some of your favorite food that you missed since coming back.

you walked to the mirror that you came from and stared at your reflection.. will your first years be okay without you..? will grim be okay..? you closed your eyes to think on all your adventures, you heard a very familiar sound...

you looked at the mirror and you watched as the mirror ribbles... and then... ace appears.

"hehe~ its been a while, hasnt it? sorry i didnt get to see you when you visited. it just took me a while to make sure your new home.. is ready."

before you could step back, his hands reached for you, grabbing your shirt and pulling you into the mirror.

"i got a nice place for both of us. its a bit far from campus, but for you its worth it~ also~ you problay shouldnt run... or ill make sure you wont have anyone to return to here.."

~

~

without text

~~~~~

[amaranthineghost]

Hi there! Can you do a pov/one shot/ fanfic where Lando is dating Y/N and her love language is biting. She randomly and softly bots Lando but he enjoys it knowing that she is fully comfortable with him to be herself. One day Max,Pietra and some other friends of Lando come to visit them in Monaco and Pietra is annoyed with Max for teasingly refusing to sit next to Y/N, P telling him that he can sit next to Y/n cause she doesn’t bite. Lando starts laughing and says that y/n does bite and moves his shirt to show a small bite mark on his shoulder. Y/N laughs it off but she gets insecure thinking that her love language is bothering Lando so she fights the urge to bite him again. After a few days Lando notices that she doesn’t bite him anymore and starts thinking that he did something to upset her. He asks her why and she eventually tells him and he gets a bit upset. He tells her that he actually likes it because its her way of showing her love and the fact that she is comfortable around him.

Idk some fluff or something

Thank you for at least reading this and I really love your work🧡

|  SINK YOUR TEETH INTO ME, MY DEAR ( lando norris. ) |

ꕥ pairing: lando norris x reader

ꕥ summary: reader's love language is biting, but experiences a feeling of insecurity

ꕥ author note: oh to have a boyfriend to experience this with. fair warning, I refrain from using y/n in imagines unless it's really unavoidable because at this point y/n is a whole person by herself. if something is worded weirded, or 'she' and 'her' get repetitive, that's why. but anyways, I really like this request, its so cute and silly and i hope i did it justice :3

HIS BODY WAS OFTEN ADORNED with bite marks, indentions in his skin where you could see the canines had dipped it lower than the rest. it was a reminder to him of her love.

and he happily carried them everywhere with him, smiling to himself with every glance in the mirror at his bare torso. some faded more than others as they trailed along his arms, upwards to his shoulder and across to his collarbone.

the pads of his fingers slowly rubbed over them, a small smile spreading across his face, something he'd done everyday as the new blemishes came and went.

at first, he'd thought of it as strange, taken off guard by the sudden pinch on his bicep as she'd sink her teeth into his flesh. not so hard to break skin, she wasn't a vampire. but it was enough for him to be reminded of it.

as time went on and the occurrences became more frequent, he'd find himself smiling at it. it was his way of knowing she loved him, that she was comfortable around him, that she was safe with him, she always was and she knew that. at least he hoped she did.

to be loved was to be bitten, was what he knew. she had taught him that.

he had noticed a change though, it was hard not to. the sudden pinces throughout the day, he hadn't noticed weren't there because he had gotten used to them being there. if that made sense. it did to him.

but if he didn't notice the lack of sudden but light pain, followed with a trail of thin salvia leading to the culprits lips, he would notice the lack of marks that riddled his body.

lando had woken up that morning, groggy and his body sore from yesterday's training. the warm of his shared bed beckoned him to stay. to lay with her forever.

he wished he could, but he knew better than to lay around, even if it was with his girlfriend. though he might. was there ever any harm to remain within the comfort and grasp of the warm body that stayed passed out next to him, oblivious to his waking?

he always thought not. his trainer thought otherwise but turned a blind eye for the young couple. though their sickeningly love for the other made him roll his eyes behind their backs. all fun and games. something to laugh about.

his veined hands, warm and adorned with rings, traced across the low of her back. he watched the goosebumps take their place on her skin, her face stirring as she pushed herself further into the bed. he chuckled softly at her reaction, his thumb gliding across her exposed skin, dipping below the hem of the cloth on her body.

he lightly squeezed the flesh under his fingertips, pulling his hand across her back before replacing the covers on her. he slipped out of bed, leaning over momentarily.

his fingers slipped through her hair, getting caught in the knots that tied in the midst of her slumber. using his thumb, he brushed the strands from her face to see half her features smushed against the plush pillow.

another low chuckle escaped his throat, tucking the hair behind her ear as he pulled back and stared at the beauty before him. his eyes dilated the more he looked at her, but he wouldn't know.

his journey through the bathroom to get ready would be halted when he noticed a difference on his bare skin. but it wasn't bare because of the lack of shirt he found himself not to be wearing. what was different?

the pads of his fingers traced his skin for the indentions he cherished deeply, only met with the perfect evenness of his tan skin.

his actions haltered and brows furrowed. instinctively, he leaned closer to the mirror, the veins in his hands becoming more prominent as he pulled his skin. he turned in circles.

no blemishes in sight. not the work of his beloved girlfriend anyways.

he frowned, disappointed by the disruption of his routine. his ritual.

he swore to her many times that he could probably differentiate the marks of her teeth in his flesh to any other bite mark he'd come across. he knew her teeth better than his own. he swore he did.

he knew the indentions that littered his skin, but they weren't here. he wanted them to be so bad. why the change?

his heart sunk in his chest. he sighed. how could he not notice?

his eyes met his own gaze in the mirror, his fingers still tracing his bare collarbone and down his shoulder. he pursed his lips, eating away at the pink flesh until it irritated.

his hands fell down to the sink, supporting his body weight as he leaned on them as he pondered.

he surely noticed how faded they looked. how the red inflammation, that manifested on his skin, just didn't. but the change never processed in his brain.

he racked through the events of the past couple of days. nothing stood out.

they'd mostly stayed home together, other than the times lando went out for training. but it surely wasn't that, as she had no problem with it in the past. she understood what he did and the requirements of it that he had to meet.

lando groaned in realization. days earlier, lando and his girlfriend were out on the water with a few of their friends, drivers and their girlfriends.

it was a beautiful day, he had remembered because of the way the sun reflected off her skin, how her pupils shrank at the blinding light, but revealed the capsulating colors behind them.

he sat on the cushioned seats of the yacht, next to her with his warm hand on her inner thigh, a drink in the other. the rest of the group littered around the deck with various drinks in hand as they chatted.

most of them were just hanging out in their swimsuits as none of them had yet decided to take the plunge into the crystal waters.

they had sat next to each other for a while, lando leaning closer to hear her voice, the music was loud. her lips grazed his ear a few times, he remembered. the gloss on her lips left on his skin.

she remembered the scratch of his cheek as he'd forgotten to shave earlier whenever he'd lean into whisper in her ear. his lips ghostly hovered her neck, grazing her skin softly. despite the warm sun, goosebumps took their place down her neck.

he always chuckled at the rising bumps on her skin whenever he did something she liked. it always gave him a surge of confidence to know the effect he had against her.

"get a room!" the brit called out, laughing as he walked over with a drink in hand. his girlfriend followed behind, shaking her head at his words, but a smile evident on her face.

max fewtrell was one of lando's long time friends. their girlfriends also happened to be friends, long before the two guys came into their lives.

"mind if we sit?" pietra asked, not waiting for an answer as she took a place on the leather couch. leaving a space between the two girls so max could sit too.

she looked up to see max still standing, she rolled her eyes and patted the spot next to her, "there's enough room for all of us, why won't you sit?"

max shrugged his shoulder, "I don't know, mate, she might bite me if I try sitting down!" he exclaimed jokingly, inciting a laugh between the group.

she felt her body heat up uncomfortably, laughing along despite her discomfort.

pietra tugged on his sleeve, "she doesn't bite, you're being dramatic." her attempts were futile.

lando laughed and shook his head, "I don't know, mate, you might want to be careful." his hand left her thigh as he pulled up his sleeve to his shoulder, as he hadn't taken off his shirt just yet.

she felt her face flush and reddened, but hid it by laughing with the group, pushing her head into the crevice of his neck momentarily. his hand found her back again.

she felt the cushion next to her dip, followed by a hand squeezing her knee. she turned her head. pietra gave her a sympathetic look when she'd realized the girl's reaction.

pietra leaned close to her ear, like what lando and her were doing earlier. she whispered a few words to her before pulling away and taking a sip of her drink, wrapping her arm around her shoulder. she felt herself smile and relaxed in her seat.

but on the inside, she was eating herself up, overthinking to exhaustion. her stomach felt sick, was her habit a bother to him?

she found herself hiding in the bathroom throughout the rest of the hangout, claiming seasickness but denying medicine for it.

each time she find hersef back in the bathroom with anxious nausea and the door locked, lando would be on the other side. he'd knock on her door, talking her through it, asking her if he could get her anything, telling her he'd wait for her to come out again.

days past and she refrained from sinking her teeth into the perfect skin of his bicep, the valley of his collarbone, or the broadness before the drop of his shoulder.

each time she found herself with the urge to show the love she had through her teeth, she stopped herself.

it killed lando to think about how he could've made her feel. but he needed her to come to him, he didn't want to pry information out of her.

he could ask but he couldn't make her tell.

the door to the bathroom creaked open, lando's head snapping towards the noise, noticing the tired face eyeing him through the slit in the door.

he pushed himself from the counter, his heart beating slightly faster as he sighed. she opened the door more and dragged her feet against the tiled floor. he noticed the way her eyes squinted against the light.

she stopped when she collided against him. her cheek pushed against his chest as she leaned her weight against him.

he pulled her closer when he placed a hand on her head, another one around the low of her back. his lips were against her hair and he inhaled slowly. the faded tropical scent of her shampoo lingered in her hair.

in his head, he debated asking her. not only was she still tired, but he didn't want to push her farther, in case he had done something.

his heart beat heavily in his chest, muttering against her scalp, "what's going on, darling?" he caressed the strands of her hair, "hm?"

her heart skipped a beat, she thought he hadn't noticed, or that he didn't say anything because he had secretly hoped for this to happen.

she decided to play dumb, speaking softly against his bare skin, "what do you mean?" her voice muffled.

"come on, I know your biting habits. what's wrong?" he spoke patiently to her as he cradled her tired body in his arms, swaying softly as they stood admist the cold bathroom air.

her eyes fluttered shut as she mumbled, "I thought it annoyed you."

his head shook against hers, "why do you think that, love?" he held his breath for the answer, but in his heart, he knew what she was going to say.

he was met with silence for a long time, he knew she was thinking it over in her head. she finally spoke, "remember the yacht trip a few days ago?"

he exhaled deeply, his eyes clenching shut as he pursed his lips, "i'm an idiot," he muttered, pulling away partially.

" 's okay," she shrugged, looking up at him with big eyes.

he swore in his mind, if it weren't for the circumstances, he would've folded. he slowly blinked, his tongue gliding along his lower lip.

"it's not, darling. even if max and i were just messing around," he breathed in and out slowly, his hand caressing her pillow-marked face, "i'm sorry you felt that way, okay? you know, i love when you do it," he reassured, and he saw her eyes dilate when he did.

"really? but why?" she questioned him, scanning his face, eyes, body language for any hint of deceit. she found none.

"it tells me you're comfortable, baby, and that's all I want for you."

she listened for his tone. it was sincere.

and they stayed like that for a while. in each other's embrace, they knew all was well again as they talked through it some more.

"ow."

[moonsaver]

Vena jugulară

War carries many things home. Jiaoqiu finds hunger. You find cures.

Warnings/tw; yan!jiaoqiu x reader, cannibal!jiaoiu, descriptions of gore, blood, veins, flesh, all of that nitty pitty, (slightly) suggestive scene, war, ooc definitely, rushed(?) etc..

A/n: 3.4k words. Not that big tbh. I kinda wanted to get it over w/ and thats all. I hope you guys enjoy. I kinda did.

- reader is a nurse who previously assisted Jiaoqiu on the battlefield to help wounded soldiers. I have mainly kept them gn, but i might have slipped up here and there.

"Doctor."

"Hm?"

Jiaoqiu hums and turns slightly to face you. His hands continue to fold the bandages. You eye the stain that's rusting on the off white shade.

"Another one."

"As usual."

A few men carry a stretcher into the tent soon after; dirtied from the filth of war. The stretcher has a man writhing and groaning in pain, but presumably passed out. His leg is injured.

Well, rather, his leg is torn.

A long tear. From the bottom of his knee, just shy of the curve, to the top of his foot. The flesh is almost cartoonishly pink, decorated with blood leaks and torn veins.

Jiaoqiu doesn't flinch, immediately getting to work, registering the anesthesia while guiding you to fetch rubbing alcohol and other surgical equipment. You silently oblige, as the other men leave, dredging on with their heavy boots riddled with mud.

A few moments later, as the last stitch tugs at the skin, Jiaoqiu sputters. You look up at him, concerned. A scruched, disgruntled look on his face, eyes still closed. You look down to see the slightest bit of mara leaking from the body.

"Even if I shall put him back together, what are the chances he may survive?"

He whispers, more to himself than asking you. You stay silent. You stare at his mouth, slightly covered in saliva, most likely from his sputtering.

He continues coughing a few moments more, handing the needle over to you as you hurriedly finish up a knot, then immediately leave to stand by him, shadowing him in worry as he continues coughing for a moment.

"Sorry. I choked on my spit."

You nod, before leaving and proceeding to finish up the work, leaving Jiaoqiu to catch his bearings.

You feel almost traitorous when you have such thoughts, however,

You've noticed an awful lot of things about your senior as of late.

His fur that's seeming to fray, split and gather on almost every surface, making it hard to disinfect and keep things sterilized for the most part. The stressful, or rather constrained look on his face when another soldier is sent his way – soldiers with flesh bursting at the seams of tight skin, blood flowering around the scene. The constant choking he feels from the heavy, thick scent of iron, and more spit dribbling down his chin.

Although, you feel it may be something else.

Granted, you don't ask. You hand him your handkerchief, and continue normally. You don't, however, miss the dilation of his usually thin pupils whenever he stares down at the man on the table. Like a starved predator upon a feast.

His eyes catch yours, too. Both of you stay silent.

–

"Hm, how.. disappointing."

You hum, Jing Yuan reverting to his pondering state, as you beat him at another round of the board game he'd invited you to.

"Battle strategies are your thing, General. I'm almost surprised. Are you letting me win, by any chance?"

Jing yuan laughs, a deep, curt sound that bubbles from his chest.

"Nurse, I would know how much fairness and certainty means to you."

"Hmm.. really,now?"

Your hand grabs his wrist, gripping onto the small guards of his arm, as you catch him trying to steal one of your pieces,

"Touchè".

You huff, letting go of his wrist, his hand languidly placing back the piece, before he repositions to lean the side of his head on it,

"Perhaps your instincts from then still remain."

"Mara struck are awfully dangerous."

"I've heard plenty. And seen, too."

"One tried to stab me with an empty syringe when I turned my back for a second."

Jing yuan hums, his hand hovering over the board decisively,

"Quite peculiar, such a trait."

"Strange indeed."

Jing yuan makes his move. It's time for you to think, now.

You lean slightly over the table, observing and calculating your moves. He continues to speak,

"Were you not infected as was the Chef?"

"Not sure why.."

You mumble out, fingers gently perched on a piece as you contemplate the move.

"You must have. That fever struck you for a month."

Your thoughts stop for a moment. Jing yuan almost smiles, watching the tension of your fingers over the piece,

"It's.. hard to remember what happened."

Your other hand creeps up to wrap around your waist, under the table. Something still faintly aches, but you aren't sure if you can fix it now.

"Chef cared for you quite arduously. That was the last time I'd seen a fox like him so ruffled."

You look up and click your tongue, as Jing yuan's fingers teeter around the pieces. He stays still and smiles, playing it off.

"I was the only one who could assist him. It's a given."

"Hm.. I've been driven to a corner."

You chuckle softly, jing yuan's eyes turning contemplative as you move your piece into position.

"Ah-ah, not so fast."

You blink, looking up at the General as he tuts, your hand hovering over your piece. Did you make a mistake?

He leans over, his hand reaching over to pick a stray hair off of your shoulder. It was short, and pink. Fur.

His hand retracts and languidly dusts it off his finger to the side. Ah, you realise,

"Must be Jiaoqiu's."

"I'd be surprised if it wasn't."

"I have been watching over that pink-haired girl.."

Jing yuan chuckles softly, shaking his head,

"He seems quite irritable since then."

"He's.. clingy. Ever since I.."

He hums, his golden eyes calculative as he decides his next move.

"What a shame."

You yawn, the settling winter thawing under the new sun making the atmosphere more comfortable than chilling, leaning back on your arms.

"I can never understand that man.."

Jing yuan makes his move, and waits for you, as he takes a sip of his tea.

"Foxians are quite interesting."

"Hm?"

Jing yuan's words pique your interest, as you slightly perk up,

"Really? What of it?"

"They react differently to mara."

The board is abandoned by now, as you listen intently, leaning forward,

"Do you know how mara works?"

He sets the ceramic cup down, the liquid in it ebbing gently from the motion.

"Foxians of his lineage have tendencies to act far too soon on their desires, from even a smidge of exposure."

..is he lying?

"It was a strange event he decided to treat such wounds in his past. With you on the line beside him."

"But, I was already working there before him."

"Indeed. That is why I.."

He stays silent for a moment. A small chuckle leaves him, as he shakes his head,

"You should be more cautious."

You blink for a moment, simply looking at him. Under the golden sunlight, it's hard to look away.

Wait.

You look down at the board, as he steadily gets up,

"Wait, you- stole the pieces-?!"

----

You sneeze, and cringe immediately.

Jiaoqiu's unreadable expression is pointed at you, as you look to gauge his reaction. You've always hated the taste of his medicine.

It was more peaceful than anything, other than the looming threat of catching the attention of your "mentor" (or as he insisted). The occasional thick scent of chili and sizzling meats settled into the air, along with the gentle draft of early spring, hints of the winter's cold lingering in the crisp air in the atmosphere. You sniffle and shift in your seat, as Jiaoqiu approaches you.

"Try."

He places a bowl of noodles in front of you. You eye it suspiciously.

"It took me a while to prepare. So don't waste it, disciple."

You look up at him, warily. His closed eyes and sly grin greet you back.

You eye the dark, rich broth that would have had your mouth watering just a few decades ago. The perfectly cut noodles paired with an assortment of seasonings of all kinds – cut meat, hints of vegetables, boiled eggs. It was perfect.

But you couldn't taste it.

Truthfully, after you became sick, nothing tasted the same as it used to.

Your palette must have dulled. You could barely taste anything. It was as though you ate the same food, everyday, every month, every year, with no change in sight. Jiaoqiu's made a bit of a personal mission to try and challenge your dull palette.

"Jiaoqiu.."

You start, softly trying to protest,

"[Name]."

He sits down across you,

"Do you remember when I first served this?"

He leans forward, his chin cradled on his interlocked fingers, knees pressing onto the table. There's a faint smile on his face.

You sigh,

"Yes, back when.. I had a terrible fever, which just wouldn't leave."

"Mhm. It was the only reason you had the energy to walk around."

You continue staring at the dish. A hint of sentimentality at least seems to spark some appetite in you.

"Hm, too soupy isn't it?"

You comment, looking back up at him

"We aren't scarce on resources anymore, are we?"

"You could learn to not alter a few recipes for sentimental value."

"And what? Feed you that ashen bowl of noodles with barely a scrap of meat or any spice?"

You sigh,

"..alright."

You pick up the stationed chopsticks from the side, and stir the noodles slightly. Jiaoqiu's smile widens, as he watches you.

"The broth looks.."

"Remember when your fever wouldn't go down at all? The high temperature was so stubborn."

You shudder at the reminder. You still remember it – the searing burn of the medicine you hastily applied, the following high temperatures and sweat, the constant discomfort of being so unutterably weak you couldn't even sit upright.

You suppose he doesn't like when you nitpick. You resign yourself to eating it quietly.

–––

The sheets are soft, and cold as your bare back settles against them, your head gently hitting the soft pillow behind you. Your fingers absentmindedly trail down to the bandages on your abdomen, tracing the tight-binded edges of it.

Jiaoqiu's back is turned to you as he readies a concoction. One of many he's tried to use to "fix" you.

You sigh, staring up at the ceiling. You would have felt more awkward, more embarassed about having to lay almost half naked in your 'mentor's bed, but considering the recent flare up a few days ago, you couldn't care less.

Jiaoqiu walks around the expanse of the bedframe, and gently settles down on the other, empty side. He placed the paste on the nightstand, as his fingers reach down to undo your bandages.

There is something tender, you think, about having to lay bare under someone who has seen something so ugly, yet persist regardless. Under his fingers, where your flesh seems to either rot, or bloom. Something beautiful, if it weren't for the past pains of war still haunting you two. Something tender, if it weren't for your own flesh rotting into you.

His nose scrunches up a bit as your wound is exposed at the removal of the wraps. Foxians, especially of his kind, tend to have sensitive noses. Specifically for blood, if it makes sense.

Your age-old wound has shriveled and ached for so long, you almost wonder if it's alive on it's own. How have you been? You almost ask, every time you see it for yourself. The tainted flesh almost searing every time another paste, another cure, is desperately smeared on it. Almost as though it is offended.

Jiaoqiu stays silent, for a moment, his eyes slightly opened as he stares down. His hands have moved to your sides, as though framing your outline.

They move up, slowly, as though encasing your ribs. They expand with each breath, skin stretching and moving with the flesh alive underneath. His face slowly dips down, as if in prayer. His lips ghost the dip between your lower ribs, in ancient reverence. You wonder if he might break you open and eat your heart from the cages of your bones.

His lips trace down ghosting over the edge of your skin, where the previously infected part begins. He inhales, slowly, before speaking.

"I don't know how to fix this."

You stay silent. Your hand comes up to the side of his face, his hair tickling the back of it,

"Jiaoqiu. It's alright."

"It isn't."

You watch his face retract, his troubled gaze on your wound. The flesh has been marred and sunken.

"This isn't something you can fix."

He moves, the bed dipping as his weight shifts, the side of his face resting on your chest, one of his hands moving to your stomach, the back of his fingers grazing your skin as it moves up to the centre of your ribs.

"Bitter, sour.. distasteful.."

He murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly tracing your skin,

His face shifts, his lips resting just above your heart,

"Your blood smells like poison."

You still for a moment. His teeth graze your skin. The hot, damp breath wets your skin.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart beats in his ears. He longs to feel it in his mouth. His other hand, still on your side, shifts, the fingers digging into your skin.

For a moment, you wonder what the scene will reel out as ‐ your limp body, a feast under his hungry mouth. Your arteries stringing from the cave of your flesh to his mouth like a bridge, thin veins scattering and puzzling themselves in the crevices of his teeth. You hope he doesn't devour you.

For now, he resigns himself to your skin. His teeth bite. They do not draw blood yet.

---

Jiaoqiu has had more peace, recently.

Here he sits, behind you, entangling the thin stems of flowers within themselves, braiding a flower crown. His nose scrunches, and his ears flit slightly whenever you hand him a fragrant one. You chuckle whenever he comments on it. His head leans forward and rests on your shoulder, as you continue to page through recipes in his book. Medicinal ones.

"Ah, look. It's stained here."

"Hm, gunpowder?"

Jiaoqiu asks, his tail swiping your back, the curled end of it tickling the side of your face,

"I think so."

You continue paging through the recipes, before stopping on a page.

Ah. There's blood.

"Dear, how did that happen?"

Jiaoqiu muses, his fingers paused as he looks at the blood stained page.

"I wouldn't remember."

"Hm.."

The blood smells sweet, despite having sunken into the page almost decades ago. It carries a hint of vitality, still. At least, in his foxian sense.

You turn the page.

---

"Jiaoqiu!"

"Not now–"

"The nurse..!"

Jiaoqiu stops in his tracks, taking his eyes off of his station with slightly furrowed brows, towards the person who's abruptly entered,

"What is it?"

"They're ill! They've fallen to the‐"

Jiaoqiu rushes with those few meager words, swiftly walking past as he asks where you are.

Unfortunately for you, you were trying to gain your bearings on the wooden floor.

This entire month of war specifically, had torn you both down to shreds. Your inventories were looted, leaving you with scarce medicine and many maimed to look after. The enemies were bolstering their presence harshly, and closing in furiously.

Upon stumbling on a rare sight of a wounded enemy soldier, you leaned down to check if they carried anything useful – medicine, maps, anything, when you realised in your haste you should have checked for their pulse first.

And it was in that moment of realisation did you feel a sharp plunge and sting, as the soldier's arm swiftly swung and stabbed you with a small knife.

You wanted to scream, but the overwhelming pain of the intrusion, the visceral splitting of your flesh far outweighed the need to scream. You jerked away, weakly, but hastily, retreating, leaving the enemy with their last bout of energy to laugh bitterly at you.

–––

Jiaoqiu still smells poison on you.

With war came many things. A lost locket on the vast field. A lonely sword in the quiet of the night. A child asleep in front of the door, forever waiting their parent.

And with war, came your eventual poisoning.

Perhaps it was the weapon. Knives edged with venom. It could have made for a lethal weapon.

But something felt odd.

Jiaoqiu's face presses into the warmth of your stomach.

Bitter. Sour. Distasteful. Rancid. Rotting. And Defiled.

Jiaoqiu's mind often wanders to wine reds. The pulling of sinew arteries, the sharp cut of a blade through flesh. The slow leaking of myoglobin or blood through the cutting board.

Sometimes, it had wandered while he tended to patients.

Blooming flesh, at incineration of skin due to sharpnel, or burnings. The vigorous pumping of the heart at the sight of blood draining down slowly, outside it's confinement, ever so oblivious to the lethality.

Jiaoqiu had craved flesh. Flesh beyond the slaughter of a Lamb, of a Cow, of any animal.

Flesh, right under the safe confines of human ribs.

Sweet, sweet viscera of the Liver. The expanse of Lungs. The tightly wound cartilage right above and below the muscles. Bones that leaked marrow.

The heart.

But he hadn't dare consume.

With war, came hunger.

Hunger he had not experienced like any other. Hunger that devoured him whole. Hunger so vast he could feel his insides churning and dissolving for the capacity of the appetite he would need to fulfill.

A hunger for you.

Poisoned, and permanently so. It's safe to say his attempts to 'fix' you, weren't necessarily innocent.

He shifts, his face moving to your neck, nose tickling the edge of it as his lips linger on your nape. Unprotected spinal cord. His canines expose and gently press on the tender skin, the pressure increasing, waiting for the breach of the skin.

You laugh, airy and sweet.

"What are you doing?"

Jiaoqiu retracts, slightly. Staggered, shallow breathing as he struggles to restrain himself.

He stays quiet. You grow nervous at the strange silence.

"Jiaoqiu?"

"[Name]."

His head turns slightly, eyeing the open recipe book on your nightstand. The night's gentle breeze wafting through the open window agitated the pages, slightly uncovering the blood-stained page for a second.

"What is it?"

You quietly ask, sensing the slight tightness in his voice,

"You poisoned yourself."

Your breath hitches, a shock rendering your body paralyzed for a second.

What?

You shift and turn to face him. His eyes are open, staring endlessly into yours. You break into a cold sweat, his slitted eyes almost cutting through you. Your heart beats harshly in your chest, as your breathing staggers slightly.

"Jiaoqiu?"

"While concocting that medicine for yourself.."

He whispers, his hand pushing down on the pliant bed as he leans forward, making you lean back in turn,

"What are you–"

"In your haste, did you ever think to use the right ingredients?"

He's towering over you, as you look at him, eyes almost blown wide, pupils dilated, breathing heavily. You don't notice it until you realise how out of breath you feel, despite the chill of the night air causing chills on your skin.

"The.. ingredients.."

You stumbled into your tent, almost meeting the ground, your arm on reflex grabbing onto something sturdy, as you gasped and panted. Your other hand presses onto the wound on your abdomen, as you cry out, abruptly interrupted by a sharp inhale at the pain. Tears singe your eyes, but your heart is beating too loud, and you're too pained to cry yet. You grunt as you pull yourself up, your bloodied hands sifting through the cacophany of items on your own desk, shuffling in haste for something,

Eventually, you hurriedly concocted a simple but powerful herbal paste, smothering it onto the blaring and irritated, bloody wound, seeping and crying incessantly of blood into your hands as you lathered it onto the wound in great pain. You ignored the uncharacteristic burning of the paste, hurriedly trying to wrap the bandage onto yourself, before too much blood was lost.

"Do you realise? That paste.. if you messed up a single point in the recipe, you'd poison yourself. Each ingredient was selected to neutralize the other."

Erratic, shallow breaths leave you as he looks down at you. What have you done?

This is poison. This is the curse.

The curse you carried after the war. It was never mara that could affect you.

And it was the poison Jiaoqiu had longed to taste.

His face dives down into your neck again, his fangs ghosting your jugular vein,

"Do you realise what truly courses in your blood?"

A cold bead of sweat drips down from the side of your forehead. Death could possibly taste sweeter, you imagine.

"I can't wait to taste it."

And his teeth sink.

--

[slutforalastor]

you never thought this day might come, sat down with the Radio Demon's head in your lap, his gaze lazy and half-lidded as he allows you, generously, so generously, to touch the pronged antlers that extend from the top of his head. His lips pass soft white noise as you run a finger from the base to the tip of his antlers, the vibration that you can feel beneath the hard exterior somewhere between the hum of a domestic appliance and the throb, throb, throb of a heartbeat

You can feel Alastor's shoulders tense up whenever you put too much pressure on them, his calm breathing briefly interrupted every time you push his sensitivity past his tolerance. Each time you find yourself being too exploratory, you correct yourself back to the safety of gentle strokes, letting your fingertips soak in the unique texture. They are somewhere between the firm smoothness of exposed bone, like his teeth when they drag across the topmost layer of your skin, leaving perfect streaks too shallow to bleed, too pronounced to refute their creator, and the spongy give of delicate flesh. You know the trust he's imparted to you to be given this kind of access; not only does he so limit incoming touch, but resents any reminder of his reincarnation as a prey animal.

"I'm surprised you're okay with this," you murmur to him, so unwilling to compromise the sanctity of this moment.

"Only because it is you," Alastor assures you, his tone just as hushed.

You continue, relishing in this opportunity. You explore every hook and divot of the black extensions, marveling at the current of demonic energy that pulses through them. It was your impression that they only grew when Alastor was angry, but not quite: any overwhelming passion, be it joy, theoretically speaking, or fear, or sadness, and they will billow out. You wonder if you can elicit such a response. Your opening gambit is strong: you lean into his ear, whispering "If anyone else were to do this, you'd tear them apart, wouldn't you?"

"For even less than this, dearest. I'd assumed that was obvious."

"But not me?"

"But not you."

"Maybe I want you to tear me apart, love."

The first sign; you feel a shift through the skeletal system they're connected to, a tremor of recognition, of sudden awoken desire.

"I'm sure you just aren't aware of what you're asking for."

"No, I'm all too aware. You want something deeper, too, don't you? It can't be enough just to meet in such a temporary union, only to separate. I want you to bring a little piece of me along with you, knowing you've claimed more than just one part of me, but any you desire."

He shudders, deeper this time, and you feel growth. Sharp edges and deeper curves sprout like curling ivy where there had once been certain ends, like a blossoming tree bursting into life. Your loving strokes down the length of his antlers grow deeper, more pronounced, almost incessant.

"What game are you playing at?" Alastor pants, his breathing hitching every time you push against them with any kind of firmness.

"I love seeing what you do."

His body has seized, but doesn't do anything else. You can feel the efforts of the sinew across his back against your lap. Best of all are his facial expressions; his initial contentment has evolved, firstly into surprised, the edges of his bladed grin peeking out from his thin lips, his eyes squinted and playful. Now it's become a look of desire, his mouth open slightly, droning a steady song with no melody but a captivating refrain, nonetheless. His eyes plead with you; so uncharacteristic, for him to be putty in your hands. To think you could hold the high ground in any situation, much less as a result of this.

"Don't toy with me," he warns, but his voice doesn't sound assured. It sounds needy, like a request for more.

"I would never, love."

"Then end this teasing," he begs.

You do as he asks, taking your hands away from his antlers. With some strain, he manages to get his breathing back under control, his antlers receding like the retreating tide, back to their typical size. "Did you enjoy yourself?" you wonder, after he's calmed himself.

He looks at you with mischief etched in his features. "Not as much as I'm sure I will soon enough." ~~~