#no wrestling with his humanity or anything

[dark-moonlust]

Deck the Halls Part 1

Pairing: Krampus x fem!human reader

Summary: you secretly start to decorate the house only for your grumpy husband Krampus to find you out.

Warnings: established relationship, grumpy x sunshine trope, decorating, caring and possessive hubby, fluff, cuteness.

I just had to include Krampus in my Christmas stories! This version of him is unbelievably sweet, with only a small bite (for the time being). Happy reading! Find part two on Patreοn. ✨Happy Holidays!

The attic was a maze and a death trap, but you made it through. It was where you kept all your seasonal decorations and other unnecessary items. You moved through the jumbled mess until you dragged down the four large boxes containing Christmas decorations. Sure, it was still early November 28th—a point that Krampus, your husband, would never let you forget—but he wasn't home, and you weren't going to let his grumpy, anti-Christmas attitude deter you.

You only struggled with the last box as it refused to move. "You're just a box," you growled, tugging on it fiercely. "I'm not letting you win.”

The box eventually collapsed with a shriek, and you lurched back, almost landing on your bum. Well… you’d done it at last. With a huge grin, you dragged each box downstairs and got to work. You had all the time in the world because Krampus was currently caught up in the company he worked for. He worked as a specialist for a corporate organization, investigating unethical activities such as embezzlement, fraud, or employees "breaking the rules." He was incredibly good at his job, and his frightening appearance made others think twice before doing anything dirty.

Without realizing it, time passed, and the living room gradually began to transform into a gorgeous, chaotic mass of garlands, lights, and glitter. You'd managed to wrestle a seven-foot pine tree into the corner, which had been funny given that it was higher than you and weighed around a thousand pounds. You were climbing the ladder with a garland of lights in your hands, humming "All I Want for Christmas Is You" at full gusto when a familiar growl caused you to freeze mid-note.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

You froze. Fuck indeed. 

Krampus was back.

You turned slowly, your hand still holding the lights, to see Krampus, your monstrously handsome but now angry husband standing in the doorway. He looked massive in the wide living room, standing nearly seven and a half feet tall, wearing a dark suit that screamed danger and dark beauty.

Twisted horns twisted from his temples, and dark lustrous fur protruded from his wrists and neck. His penetrating red eyes swept across your form. His jawline was sharp enough to cut, framed by a shadow of a beard. Sharp claws tipped his fingers and a long, serpentine tail flowed behind him, which was currently swinging back and forth. He didn’t wear shoes, he had hooved feet and walked to you with a predator's grace.

“Surprise! It’s decorating day,” you said, forcing a small smile.

“Get down.”

Krampus snarled, his gaze fixed on your body perched dangerously on top of a ladder. He hadn’t planned on coming home early, but something in his gut told him you were up to no good. And of course, he had been right. The sight of you balancing on that wobbly-ass ladder, stringing lights made his heart lurch. Only you did that to him. Made him so fucking worried and out of his mind.

Plus, you had no business looking so damn cute, wearing a short-ass red dress, glitter dusting your cheeks and hair.

But cute or not, you were a menace.

You've always acted like this around Christmas, but this year you started decorating so early that he didn't have time to prepare himself.

“Relax, big hubs,” you called out, a little sassy despite his furrowed brows. “I’ve got this.”

Krampus grunted. Nope. Absolutely not.

“Get down. Now.”

“Silly, I can’t do that. I haven’t finished decorating.”

"It's still November," he muttered, creeping closer. His hooves clicked on the ground, his tail swinging behind him like an angry cat. "You couldn't wait another week?"

"You wouldn't let me decorate even if I waited!" you shot back, wagging your lights at him. "So I have to do it when you're out, obviously."

"So you thought this was a good idea? Climbing on that death trap without me?"

You rolled your eyes. He was so overprotective. "I am fine. You're being dramatic."

“Come down or I'll get your sweet ass down and you don't want that."

Releasing a huff of a breath, you carefully stepped down. Krampus waited patiently at the ladder, gripping it for balance. He only let go when your feet were safely on the ground, tossing away the lights and tugging you to him as if you weighed nothing. He pulled you off the ground to make up for your height difference and you smiled, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

“You’re not climbing that damn thing again unless I’m standing right here,” he growled, his claws gently digging into your hips as he held you close.

“You’re such a worrywart,” you muttered, your fingers trailing the sharp lines of his jaw.

“That’s because you’re careless, wife.”

You pouted and made puppy eyes at him. “Oh, come on, hubby. I want to decorate. It makes me so happy! Help me out? Please? Please?”

Krampus grumbled something about you having him wrapped around your little finger and eventually agreed. He’d rather take you to bed and fuck your brains out but that would have to wait. Sadly. But he had plans to ask for a big reward for helping you, so his dick stayed good in his pants while he helped you out.

In the end, he ended up doing the majority of the decorating. He hung string after string of garlands and lights across the living room. Before he knew it, he had decorated the massive Christmas tree, the steps leading upstairs, and your bedroom. You had joyful music playing continually and were dancing and smiling sweetly at him.

Well, that made all his efforts worthwhile.

Everything sparkled with soft, golden lights, garlands hung neatly from the fireplace, and the aroma of pine and cinnamon filled the air. You stood back, hugged your husband, proud of the seasonal metamorphosis, despite his occasional growls and eye-rolls.

“You’re always so grumpy about the holidays, but here you are, helping me decorate. Thanks to you we’re almost finished! Only the driveway’s left and the garden.”

Krampus narrowed his eyes, his tail flicking. “Don’t push your luck, wife.”

"Everything looks so good," you murmured, secretly planning to decorate the yard tomorrow.

“Just good?" he rumbled, his voice low. "I just spent three hours untangling lights and garlands and all you've got to say is 'good'?“

You smirked. “Fine, it looks amazing. Totally amazing. Thanks for helping out, hubby.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something, wife?” His gaze flicked to the room briefly before lingering on you.

“Forgetting what?”

“My reward,” he murmured in your ear.

“Oh, your reward,” you said, playing cool even if your belly clenched with desire. “You mean for today? For being such a good hubby and helping me out?”

“Yes, damn it,” he said, his voice a deep, velvet growl. You were infuriating—deliberately driving him to the brink of madness even if he could smell your arousal in the air. He wanted to pin you down, kiss you and fuck your cunt until you stopped sassing him.

“You’re impossible,” you whispered, shivering as his tail curled around your legs, pinning you to him. His hands dragged up your mini red dress, you knew it had driven him mad. Just as you’d planned. Your breath hitched when he let his claws brush against your upper thighs.

“And I think you’re in need of a good fucking, little wife,” he rasped, his lips hovering over yours. “But for starters, I think I’ll have a kiss.”

Head tilting, he claimed your lips, his horns creating shadows on the walls. Your breathing caught, mouth opening and accepting his hungry tongue. Krampus was rough and demanding, thrusting his tongue with yours as if he wanted to devour you, pin you to the wall and make you forget all about the decorations.

And you wanted the same. Were just as needy for him as he was for you.

Part 2 is already up on the app plus much much more to enjoy! Things will get hot. Let me know what you think of my take on Krampus!

[kissme-withyour-cherrylipstick]

Merry Kissmas, Day 24—Christmas Eve

Arthur is pretty sure now. The events of the last three days have been enlightening.

Merlin feels it too.

He wanted nothing more than to tell Merlin that it was okay, that he had nothing to be sorry for, that Arthur wanted the second kiss too. And a third and a fourth and—

He heaves a sigh as he stands in his kitchen on Christmas Eve morning, waiting for his coffee to brew. There is no work today, but he’s going to Morgana’s Christmas Eve party tonight, which will be in the office, and Merlin will be there.

He didn’t get a chance to tell Merlin anything yesterday. It seemed far too private to say in front of anyone else, and he worried Merlin would be too afraid to meet him in his office again. He considered texting and that was how he realized he didn’t know what to say. Well. He knew what to say, but every way he could think to say it sounded weirdly pathetic. Then he started to doubt if it was the right thing to do at all.

Maybe this is just what it's like when you kiss someone every single day for twenty-three days. Maybe he would have fallen in love with anyone if he did this with them. He certainly didn’t expect to fall in love with Merlin of all people.

This is the doubt he’s been wrestling with, but somehow he knows it’s not true. Somehow he knows this is real.

He knows because of how he always looks forward to Merlin’s kiss. How he always finds himself smiling when he thinks about Merlin, which he does a lot now. The warmth that spreads through him whenever he looks at Merlin, his tousled hair, his ears, the line of his neck, his dirty shoes that are completely inappropriate for an office setting.

He supposes he’s always been a little bit in love with Merlin. But this past month has really brought it to his attention.

At a loss for what else to do, Arthur calls Morgana.

“Hey, Morgana,” he greets, “I was just wondering... is Merlin coming to your party tonight?”

“Yes, as far as I know,” she answers.

“So he hasn’t told you that he won’t be coming after all?”

“Why, is there some reason you don’t want him to come?”

“No, I want him to come. I really want him to come.”

“Is there some reason you think he won’t?” When he doesn’t respond, she continues, “Why don’t you ask him?”

“Er....”

Morgana sighs. “Does this have anything to do with the weird game you two have been playing?”

“How do you know about that?

“Gwen.”

“She told you?”

“I have a right to know when you’re making a fool of yourself.”

“I should never have done any of that stuff in front of her.”

“Oh, she told me about the ones you didn’t do in front of her.”

“Ugh. Merlin. Is there no such thing as privacy?”

“So what’s the problem? Have you fallen in love?”

Arthur is silent.

“Oh my god, you have. Oh, Arthur,” and a hint of humanity slides into her voice, underneath a thousand layers of irony and condescension. “What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know what to do.”

“Oh, that’s why you called, you want advice.”

“No, no I don’t want your advice.”

“My advice is simple: follow your heart. Do what it is that you want to do.”

“That’s your advice? Why?”

“Because, I’m pretty sure Merlin wants you as much as you want him and I want him to be happy.”

“You really think that?”

“Yes. For some reason, he really likes you. God only knows why.”

“Thanks, Morgana,” Arthur says, then his sincerity runs dry. “I still think this is a trap.”

She laughs.

He hangs up.

In his own shitty flat that gets shittier the longer he stays at Arthur’s flat, Merlin is also thinking about the last three days and dreading the party tonight. The difference is, he’s still thinking about it in terms of the game. There’s no way he can win, and he doesn’t want to anyway. He thinks a tie would be the most preferable outcome, but at this point, it doesn’t really matter.

Except that Arthur will be insufferable if he wins. And he’ll remind Merlin about it at every opportunity, driving the knife deeper each time. But still, he can’t seem to bring himself to care.

Let him kiss me , he thinks, brooding into his morning tea. I want him to kiss me .

He spends the day dreaming about what it will be like and planning his reaction to it. He has every intention of kissing Arthur back. He’s done that several times and nothing has come of it.

As he’s sitting there, spiraling inside his own mind, he gets a phone call from Gwen and immediately answers it, desperate for anything. “Hello.”

“Hi, Merlin, are you busy?”

“No.”

“Would you like something to do?”

“Yes, please. God, yes.”

“Wow. Okay. I’m helping Morgana decorate for the party tonight and we could use an extra set of hands. And someone taller.”

“I’ll be right there.” He hangs up, leaps off of his chair, and gets ready in minutes flat. He already has his outfit picked out: black jeans that he thinks make his arse look good and an “ugly” Lord of the Rings Christmas jumper with all four hobbits on it.

“That was fast,” Gwen greets him at the door. She’s wearing a red velvet off-the-shoulder dress with her hair pulled back at the nape of her neck except for a couple ringlets that frame her face.

“You look amazing,” Merlin says, taking her in.

“Thank you.” She looks down. “I like your jumper.”

“Thanks.” They hug, and her embrace fills him with a sense that maybe everything will be okay.

“We’re in here.” She leads him further into the building where the party will take place, in the employee break room on the first floor and the wide open space in front of it. It’s a mirror of the second floor where Merlin works and he can’t help but look at and notice all the places that look like the places where he and Arthur have kissed. The front door. The desk that looks just like his. The boss’s office to the side. The table. Against the wall. He tingles at the memories and it makes his heart hurt.

“Lance!” Merlin cries when he sees Gwen’s boyfriend helping Morgana with decorations.

“Merlin!” Lance cries, then comes over and gives Merlin a hug.

“Long time no see,” Merlin grins.

“Yes, too long.”

“Hi, Merlin,” greets Morgana, who is stunning as usual in a green dress, her glossy black hair cascading over one shoulder. She wraps her arms around him and he feels blessed by her presence.

“Wait, I thought you said you needed someone tall,” Merlin says to Gwen, glancing at Lance who is roughly the same height as Merlin.

“We could use two tall people,” she says.

“I can give you a boost and you can help me with these,” Lance says, holding up some artificial mistletoe sprigs.

Merlin looks annoyed at Gwen. “Seriously?”

“Sorry,” she winces.

Merlin shakes his head and turns to help Lance. After Lance gives him a boost and he hangs the mistletoe, he slides down in his arms and they’re left standing together underneath it, looking into each other’s eyes. Merlin blushes, then lets go of Lance, pulls away, grabs Gwen, and throws her into Lance’s arms.

“Hi,” she blinks, grabbing his shoulders.

“Hi,” he smiles, looking at her with the most loving expression.

Merlin watches as they kiss, his smile fading after a moment, wishing he could have the same thing with Arthur.

He feels Morgana’s hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Merlin. I have a good feeling about tonight.”

“Oh yeah? What do you know about it?”

“I know.” And there is a strange twinkle in her eye that gives him an unfathomable sense of hope.

Arthur always arrives fashionably late to Morgana’s Christmas Eve party, but tonight he finds himself impatient and eager to get there, so, after delaying his arrival as long as he can stand, he shows up less than an hour after it ostensibly started.

It appears to be in full swing; there are many people there, most of whom he knows, but there’s really only one person he wants to see.

“Hello, dear brother,” Morgana greets in her sarcastically sweet tone, coming at him from the left and putting her arm around him, a glass of what is probably champagne in her other hand.

“Hello, Morgana,” he sighs, slipping his arm around her waist halfheartedly.

“Merlin’s over there.” She points with her glass and Arthur sees Merlin’s dark hair just poking out above the heads of some other people whose faces he tunes out as he hones in on Merlin.

His palms sweat and his breathing is shallow as he makes his way into the breakroom where Merlin is standing beside a spread of Christmas desserts and, to Arthur’s dismay, is talking to Gwaine, looking very excited to be doing so.

Merlin turns when Arthur comes close and immediately looks annoyed. “Oh, of course you’re wearing a Lord of the Rings jumper. And of course it’s that one.”

Arthur looks down at Merlin’s chest and notices he is also wearing a Lord of the Rings jumper. “What’s wrong with this?” he asks, indicating his own jumper, with the White Tree of Gondor on it.

“You’re wearing that because you fancy yourself Aragorn.”

“And you fancy yourself Frodo.”

“Frodo is the main character.”

“And Aragorn is the rightful king of Gondor.”

They stare at each other in hostility for a moment, before Merlin breaks it with a smile, and Arthur has to smile back. “It is a pretty cool jumper.”

“Thanks. I like yours too.”

“Thanks. Would you like something to drink?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hi, Arthur,” says Gwaine as Merlin turns to fill a champagne flute for Arthur.

“Oh. Hi, Gwaine.”

“Looking forward to tonight?”

“Yeah, it should be fun.”

“I’ll meet you under the mistletoe.” He winks.

“No, you won’t.”

“I’m sure someone will.”

Just then, Merlin hands him his champagne. “Morgana always has the best drinks,” Merlin says. “She has some new purple... punch or something over there.”

“What’s in it?” Arthur asks.

“I dunno.”

“Is it good?”

“I dunno, is it, Gwaine?”

Gwaine takes a drink from his cup. “Very.”

“A bit of advice, for both of you,” Arthur says. “Don’t trust Morgana.”

“I trust her more than I trust you,” Merlin says.

“Oh yeah?” Arthur says, and steps closer to Merlin, who shrinks away just visibly, and Arthur fights the need to back off because Merlin is being ridiculous. “What do you think I’m gonna do to you?”

Arthur sees Merlin’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “I dunno. What are you gonna do to me?” He stands up straighter, practically daring Arthur to kiss him.

Arthur barely manages to tear his eyes away from Merlin’s lips. “Nothing.” He steps back and turns toward the table full of Christmas treats. He picks something up without even knowing what it is and puts it in his mouth. A biscuit.

“Well,” says Gwaine. “I guess I’ll see who else I can trap under the mistletoe.”

Merlin is surprised by how normal his and Arthur’s interactions are that night. All his anxiety melted away when he saw Arthur and they fell into their usual banter. They are inseparable all night. They eat. They dance. They drink. But still, Arthur doesn’t try to kiss him.

Merlin can’t understand why. Arthur would win. He’s got nothing to lose and everything to gain. It’s like he doesn’t want to win. It drives Merlin mad, and he’s torn between drinking as much as he can and staying sober so he can enjoy Arthur’s kiss when it does come.

The night creeps by and still it doesn’t come.

Finally, a slow song comes on and people are actually slow dancing to it. Lance is of course a great dancer and Merlin watches him and Gwen for a moment before Arthur approaches.

“Are you going to dance with me on this one?” he asks, slipping his arms around Merlin’s waist.

A spark crackles through Merlin’s body at the touch and his arms are circling Arthur’s shoulders before he can stop them. “Yes,” he hears himself say.

Arthur smiles at him as they begin to sway and Merlin can’t help but smile back as it goes on. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against Arthur’s. They are the only two people in the world and it feels so strange but so right, moving like this.

“What’s up with you tonight?” Arthur asks after long moments stretch out before them.

“What do you mean?”

“You haven’t tried to kiss me at all. You could tie, you know.”

“I don’t want to tie.”

“Why not?”

This is the moment. Arthur is so close and Merlin could tell him everything, but as he stands on the precipice, he finds he is too cowardly.

Merlin is driving Arthur insane . They are together the whole night, so close they are almost touching, then when they do eventually touch, Merlin won’t tell him what he wants. Maybe it’s all the other people around.

He steps away from Merlin before the song is over and gives him a hard look. Merlin looks surprised, apprehensive even. Arthur looks around for an escape route, sees a broom closet, takes Merlin’s hand, and drags him in there, closing the door behind them.

“A closet? Really?” comes Merlin’s voice in the dark.

“Hang on, I think there’s a light in here.” Merlin is leaning against the wall and Arthur has to reach behind him to find the switch. When the light turns on, he’s crowding Merlin up against the wall.

“What are you doing, Arthur?”

“You have not tried to kiss me all night. Why?”

Merlin’s look of indignation fades into something far sadder until he looks so completely miserable it makes Arthur feel like a terrible person for having done this to him. His arms are crossed, protecting himself from Arthur, but he goes slack, leaning against the wall, all possible traces of anger gone. “You know why.”

All Arthur can hear is his own breathing as he takes it in. He does know why. He’s known it for days. He feels it himself. Neither of them care about this stupid game anymore. It’s gone so far beyond that, it’s impossible to even remember what that was like.

Arthur closes his eyes, then opens them. “Let’s tie.”

“Hm?” Merlin’s brow quirks hopefully.

Arthur takes Merlin’s shoulders in his hands and leans even closer. “I don’t care about the game,” he says, his voice just above a whisper. “I just want you. Let’s tie.”

Then Merlin is leaning forward and Arthur has felt his kiss before, in fact, he’s felt this exact fervor behind it, but this time it is unbound by any pretense and Merlin tilts fully into it, grabbing Arthur and holding him close, so close it’s as if he can’t get close enough, their entire bodies pressed together in the closet, and Arthur finally lets himself go too, exploring Merlin’s mouth like he’s always wanted to and it’s warm, heat spreading like fire throughout his body at every contact point between him and Merlin. He pushes forward, crushing Merlin against the wall because he really can’t get close enough.

He has to pull away for breath and to look at Merlin, flushed and disheveled and beautiful in the harsh lighting.

It is far more than Merlin ever hoped for. Even with all the assurances from his friends and his decision to just let it happen and how seemingly romantic Arthur is being, his heart soars like he can’t believe when Arthur says, “I just want you.”

It is like a dream and despite how dirty it probably is in that closet, Arthur’s kiss is pure and right and sets Merlin alight his entire body over and there is nowhere he’d rather be than between Arthur and that wall. He tastes like biscuits and peppermint and champagne and love.

When Arthur finally breaks away, he is glowing. Even the fluorescent lighting loves him.

Arthur strokes Merlin’s face with his thumb. “You are so beautiful, Merlin,” he says breathlessly. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

Merlin swallows. “Me too.”

“Now that it’s finally over,” he says, nosing Merlin’s cheek, “I wanna take you home,” a kiss to his jaw, “and I won’t stop until there isn’t an inch of you I haven’t kissed.”

“What? You don’t just say things like that.”

“I do now.” He presses closer to Merlin and a surge of arousal flows through his body like never before.

“Oh god, yes,” Merlin breathes. “Arthur. I don’t know if I can wait that long.”

“You’ve waited this long, what’s a few more minutes?”

“An eternity.”

Arthur kisses him again and it’s the first kiss that is free from the confines of the game. It’s strong and it’s sweet and so quintessentially Arthur. Merlin is thrilled yet not surprised at all that he knows it so well.

As they duck out of the closet, saying a rushed goodbye to the party in general, Gwaine can be heard saying to Gwen, “Finally.”

[turtleblogatlast]

Raph amassing a decent squad of stuffed animals when he’s little and coming up with wrestling matches between them.

Captain Cuddles is the winning face, and Cheech is his long-standing heel rival. Their fights are legendary.

[theangel-aziraphale]

So, not as obvious as the statue....okay. So it's gotta be something smaller, more discreet then.

I'm thinking books or a painting, something that could have a sheet thrown over it easily enough. you can't hide this forever

...

I think you've asked enough.

I don't have to tell anyone anything... Much less tell them that I have a rather extensive collection of both of those.

But those are part of the private collection, I'm afraid. Like my diaries, they are unfit for others' eyes.

[saprophetic]

behold: limewire, the unaligned human space pirate. his ghost is in lesbian with another ghost and they rezzed their respective lightbearers together because their bodies were found near each other! except wire's ghost's girlfriend's lightbearer is a hive knight and he and wire cannot fucking stand each other. not for hive vs humanity reasons either because neither of them give a shit. they just find each other really fucking irritating. wire grinds his teeth in his sleep etc

[elizzsush]

Beastmen Courting Rituals | TWST

Savanaclaw Dorm X Reader

Leona X Reader, Ruggie X Reader, Jack X Reader,

---- BeastFolk typically have instinctual ways they begin 'courting' or a relationship, some even taught from a young age certain courting rituals. (Non-Human courting rituals part 1/3)

Note: Fun fact, I began making Fae courting first but then I posted the future kid thing and didn't want to post two Diasomnia so close together!

Octavinelle Ver | Diasomnia Ver.

Jack:

It started very small, one day he was there, the next he was there again, and the next he was also there.

He was always there.

Then it got a bit... weird? You noticed that when he would approach you, he was making this grumbling, whining sounds? You don't even think he realized it. You chose to ignore this fact for now, maybe it was just because he was a beast man? You didn't want to be rude by saying anything- or make him feel embarrassed.

After that he began to help you with your hair more as well. Well, your general appearance. He'd help you fix your uniform and brush off any dust or anything you'd may want or need help with. In turn you helped him back, it was only fair after all!

Never mind his flushed face while you did this, moving small hairs back in place and picking any particles off his own uniform.

"There's our dynamic pair! beauty and the beast man." Ace teased, a confident grin on his face while you sat down at the table, Jack not too far behind you.

Jack just rolled his eyes, a small blush on his face as he ignored Ace. Aka, while he did the smart thing to do. You, however, have yet to learn that Despite so many months of friendship and raised an eyebrow at the Card boy. "What are you talking about." You rolled your eyes at the boy.

"You don't know? but it's so obvious!" Ace frowned, Grim nodding beside him in agreement, though you doubted he even knew what the boy was talking about. "His tail is always wagging like a fan when he's talking to ya! He's totally in l-" just as Ace was about to finish speaking Jack piped up, his ears straight on his head in an alert manner and his tail stiff behind him.

"I didn't get anything to drink when we got food." He excused himself, you tried to get a look at his face because he wasn't looking at you but he didn't look back and stood up.

Glancing at his tray, you didn't fail to notice the milk carton on it. Plush, Jack was always the prepared, diligent one. That was so odd... You glanced back at Ace only to find him laughing to himself like the funniest thing just happened. "Whatever, where is Deuce?" You rolled your eyes.

"Why should I know? I'm not his mom."

After that, Ace started calling you dense. Maybe you were because you really didn't know what the hell he was talking about.

After that it was like there was a switch in Jack. He began to be touchier, not that you minded of course! Cuddling with friends is always nice, and you liked to think it was because of his more... animalistic features and instincts he was cuddlier.

But somehow it felt more intimate. He'd nuzzle his face into your neck and hang off of you like he was a coat instead of a large man who was... well jacked.

You'd often wrestle him off of you because he had gotten into the habit of, as you said before, hanging off of you! He'd whine and almost instinctually wrestle you back to stay into his place.

You may not be as strong as him, but you also didn't hate the way he'd run with you at P.E. You knew he could easily run laps around everyone, but instead he stuck with you. Smiling at you exhausted look and cheering you on. "I'm sure Coach Vargas wouldn't mind us taking a break?" He laughs a bit awkwardly after you glared at him for suggesting it when he barely even broke a sweat.

It wasn't till after Leona off Handly mentioned something about you smelling like Jack. Even wrinkling his nose and saying that he "didn't have to lay it on that thick." That you started to think, maybe, just maybe, something else was going on here.

So, you went to the library. Got yourself your very own book (that you had to return in two weeks) on Beastfolk Mating rituals.

Suddenly, it made sense why Ace thought you were dense. Apparently, this was commonish knowledge in this world! And maybe you were ignoring pretty obvious signs now that you thought about it.

So, one afternoon when Jack was hanging off of you, that look in his eyes you hadn't noticed till now. You bit his hand. His ears straightened in surprise and he looked at you for a moment. A thick blush on his face.

"Am I dense or are you courting me?" You finally asked now that you had his attention.

"I have been for a while now..." He sheepishly admitted while not looking you in the eye.

____________

Ruggie:

He avoided you like the plague, at first.

Even now, sometimes when he's approaching you, you noticed that he might backtrack and hesitate.

Now he is a lot more relaxed, often hanging off of your shoulder. Now that he knows you won't bite his head off. His tail would wag behind him slightly while he interacted with you. A stark contrast to the stiff, alert eared boy he was just a little while ago!

You will say though, it did take some of your lunches to get here. You'd equate this process to that of getting a scared cat to approach you with treats. Now, you didn't even need the treats to get him around! He'd approach you first now too. Still with hesitance, but once he did come up to you he did seem to enjoy himself.

"He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck. "He loved hanging off of you and cuddling up to you. He was very handsy, (Like most beast men, you'd later learned) His face often nuzzled into the nook of your neck.

"It's so weird to see a Ruggie-Senpai hang out with you so much." Deuce said off handedly one afternoon. You two were studying together when he thought of this.

"What do you mean?" You couldn't help but ask the card solider. Putting your pen down as you looked at him curiously.

The boy just shrugged, a odd look on his face. "I don't know, I just thought Hyena beast men were more... You know." he added a bit awkwardly. You decided to drop it there.

"Yeah... Anyway, I think I remember-"

The interaction stood out in your head, however. What exactly did Deuce even mean? After that interaction, you noticed a couple things as well. Beast students would look at you and nodded at you in recognition? Leona's nose would scrunch up a bit when you spoke to him (though he never made any comments on it), and when you walked into Savanaclaw a beast guy once mistook you for Ruggie before he looked at you?

What did any of that even mean?! When you asked Jack, he just said you smelt like Ruggie.

That small interaction you had with Deuce quickly began to send you down a hill of thinking about everything Ruggie ever did! How he hung off of you, and how you two hung out. It got even weirder when Ruggie offered you some food. Like he had been for a while.

This was very out of character for the Hyena boy! How did you not realize it before? So, you asked him about it. "How come you always offer me something when we eat together?"

He blushed a bit looking at you with wide eyes for a moment before shaking his head, "I do that don't I?" he laughed awkwardly, "I mean I bring food home for the neighborhood kids too. We all got to eat; you know?" He shrugged it off. You wondered what that meant, because he didn't do it with anyone else, but you failed to push him on the subject.

Your sad to say, you never fully realized what was happening till someone explained it to you.

He knocked on Ramshackle door with a handful of pretty dandelions and asked you on a date. "Perfect, would you like to um... go out with me?" he asked hesitantly, a nervous smile on his face while he put his head down. Like he was trying to protect his neck...

You said yes and it was after that Leona explained how annoying it was watching you two and basically inadvertently explained everything to you...

"That would have been helpful to know sooner." You grumbled to yourself after talking with the lion.

"Eh? Ignore him shyhehe!~ Ruggie just snickered with his usual sly smile.

____________

Leona:

Leona didn't really have time for games. If he liked, you he'd just come out and say it. At least, that's what you had first thought. Yes, he did use your lap as a pillow and you two did cuddle somewhat regularly. That didn't exactly mean anything. Right?

And yeah, Ruggie did scrunch his nose up and complain that you smelt too much like Leona, but that didn't matter. Leona probably didn't mean to do that; he was probably sleeping.

Did Leona roar at you? Yeah, so what? It was like a yawn; it just came out. No, he wasn't blushing! He couldn't be because you were already looking away in embarrassment.

Leona just didn't like you like that. No matter how many Courting book you read on beast men!

The Lion man in question invited you out to a Spelldrive tournament he had been practicing for. Obviously, you went without a second thought. It would be nice to see the lazy lion not lazing around for once! At least that's how you justified it.

You definitely didn't want to just see your crush play a match.

You couldn't help but notice the whole time, how Leona kept looking at you in your seat. Making sure you had just seen him perform. You'd smile and cheer for him and maybe, just maybe, a sense of pride would build up in his chest.

And maybe it was really nice to hear you cheer, and see you jump up from your seat in excitement. And maybe it was really nice to be able to cheer for him.

So you planned to confess to him after this game. "Leona I really liked you! I have for a while now!" And you did.

"Finally." He yawned and rubbed the back of his neck, you two then went to cuddle in the garden.

Did that mean you two were together now...?

____________

A/N: I know that some dorms aren't like nonhuman, but I can imagine that like Riddle was taught like courting customs in The Queendom of Roses, (Some queen of heart rule) or like the scalding sands have some costumes? Like the world changes because of beastmen/Fae customs and people adapted to that and added it to their own ways of approaching a relationship? Idk lol

Sorry Leona's part was quite short, I was getting tired and just wanted to get this out! But thank you for reading!

[hitomisuzuya]

yandere!hybrid scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. porn with a little plot. breeding kink. cunnilingus. masturbation. cream pie. degradation. scara in heat. aggressive/possessive behavior.

i just wanted to write about scara as a hybrid for a bit. don't mind this high nonsense. it turned out way long, oml, i'm sorry😭

you could never have cats growing up. so when the opportunity to take one in presented itself, you naturally took it. scaramouche was very weak, and very injured when you found him laying underneath a cardboard box in an alley.

you couldn't bear to leave him out in the cold, and freezing rain. scaramouche huddled further into the cardboard box, hissing when you crouched down to reach for him. he fought you the whole time, hissing, scratching and biting until you finally managed to wrestle him into your arms, wrapping your jacket around him and cradling him to your chest so he could get warm.

the whole time you were cooing to him soothingly. "shh, kitty, it's okay. we will get you inside, and fed. i promise. and get you feeling better." scaramouche was incredibly startled finding out your voice was soothing.

a few instances on the way home, he thought he almost fell asleep listening to the sound of your heartbeat. it made him focus a little less on the pain in his very injured leg, and pain from being weak and starving. fuck it, it would be an opportunity to rest indoors out of the cold, and get something to eat before he bailed on you the next day.

and he was going to find and fuck up that alley cat he got into a fight with. maybe he would come back to your house, yowling for food before he fled entirely.

scaramouche sure didn't know what to think about you. what the fuck was up with you? any normal person would've just dropped and abandoned him after he hissed and clawed at them, but not you. you took it all with a calm, patient smile. he decided he would fiercely test that patience.

humans weren't as good as they liked to think, in his humble opinion.

scaramouche watched you with narrow eyes as you flitted about the kitchen, looking in cabinets to see what you had for him to eat. "i'm afraid you'll have to forgive me kitty, i still have to go the grocery store this week. if you don't like anything i have, i'll go back out to the store, and see if i can't find you something."

so test you he did. he turned his nose up at tuna, some cubed chicken breasts with gravy on them (even it smelled super good, he thought), some roast beef.

he thought, this is it! he was going to turn out to be right. you would undoubtedly get frustrated and put him back out on the street. or so he thought.

nope, you just made him a soft little nest on the couch with some blankets and pillows. turned on the tv for him, and told him you would be back with some other stuff. that you would find what he wanted to eat, it wasn't a problem.

you even looked happy to be taking care of him. and why the hell were you starting to smell really good every time you walked by him. he waited, curled up warm in your little hand made nest, glancing away from the tv at the door every now and then.

back you came, your scent more magnified than before to him. you brought fish, varieties of tuna, some cat treats and cat nip. you'd even stopped by the deli and picked up different things. for him. you didn't bring home any dinner for yourself.

scaramouche supposed he would feel like an asshole if he refused all of it. you'd gone back out in the freezing rain and wind to get food for him, getting nothing for yourself. he decided he was only going to be half the trouble, accepting some chicken and gravy that tasted better than he anticipated.

after that, you treated his injured leg and read to him until he fell asleep. he opened his eyes the next morning to discover you hadn't slept until he did.

scaramouche was incredibly weak from his injury. so much so that he couldn't transform into his more human form to make recovery easier. and if he had it his way, you would never know about it. a few days and he would be gone.

or so he told himself. before he knew it, one day turned into two. two days turned into a week. he got stronger everyday. oh how you smiled and clapped when he stood up without limping. your smile was beautiful, he admitted.

you'd put up with him all this time. the healing scratches and bite marks on your arms and hands proved that. what was in it for you? nothing. everything you did was for him. he couldn't find one hint of an ulterior motive. you even seemed to purely enjoy his company.

scaramouche was really starting to hate whenever you left the house, especially when you couldn't take him with you. why did you need to leave? he knew you needed to go out for food and things, but it would be so much better if you took him with you. you seemed way too nice. it probably made you really naive.

you were naive enough not to realize he was actually a hybrid with a very human form, and a name. A name you were talking about him needing eventually. a very human form with very human needs. you were smelling better and better every day. he almost couldn't stand it sometimes. it was intoxicating.

he was starting to jump on your bed with you at night to sleep, moving a little closer to you every night. one morning, you found him curled up asleep on your chest, purring softly. he avoided you for hours after that happened, darting off hissing in embarrassment.

that wasn't the worst thing for him. a few mornings later, he'd unknowingly shifted in the middle of the night into his human form, waking up very naked with a very hard cock. his arms wrapped around you, tucking you possessively against him.

to your credit (and his amazement), you didn't scream or send him away. he supposed he should've expected that. you didn't even throw him out when he scratched up your curtains, tore a hole in one of the couch pillows, and knocked what he thought looked the most valuable vase off the table, completely shattering it.

"scaramouche," he grumbled, his ears flicking as he looked away in embarrassment. "scaramouche is what you can call me," he could barely look at you that day. he spent most of his time in his cat form, hiding under the bed, or lingering from a distance, watching you suspicious eyes. undoubtedly your true nature would come out. a strange boy had woken up next to you, naked and hard from good you smelled. how warm you felt.

you, with your soft hair that looks oh so pullable. you, with your pretty lips and fragile body he was pretty sure he could break in half. now that he thought about it, you seeing his human form was really the best thing. now he could leave the house with you, and protect you from all the horrible things that would jump out from around every corner and snatch you away.

snatch you away from him. he couldn't have that, no matter what. especially not when you accepted him so completely.

as much as scaramouche tried to swallow these feelings, he was abruptly forced to accept them one day. he walked into your room while you were changing. he saw every bare dip and curve of your breakable body, caught sight of your breasts reflected in the mirror. something snapped in him after that.

of course, he hid away from you after that. only coming out to kick up an angry fuss about you running an errand. he snapped at you when you asked if he wanted to come with you, refusing out of pride and embarrassment for walking in on you earlier.

he was forced to accept two things that day. he was going into heat. and he was consumed with thoughts of breeding you. breeding you so fucking full that there would be no question who you belonged to.

what the fuck had you done to him?

while you were gone, he spent that time writhing on your bed, fisting his cock to thoughts of impaling you on it. making you cry and claw at his back to cum inside you. even better for him that you were starting to become twice as shy around him, looking at him with a blush on your cheeks.

he scented all your clothes, rubbing on them and rolling around on them in his cat form. he rolled around on your sheets and pillows. and as for you, he scented you while you slept. this is what was best. if you smelled like him, no one would so much as dare to take you away from him.

you are his, damn it.

when scaramouche is in heat, he gets twice as possessive. he was incredibly suspicious and weary of anyone that approached or even looked at you, especially another male. if he thought there were too many people around, he insisted on taking different ways home to avoid them. he can and will snap at people if he felt they got too close.

especially when you let him get handsy with you in a moment of weakness one night. he pinned underneath him on the couch, grinding his straining cock between your legs while he pawed at your clothes. his teeth nipping at your lips and skin in between angry and frustrated kisses. you just smelled so fucking good he couldn't control himself. you moaned and mewled so sweetly underneath him.

it did happen one day. he didn't want you to go into the cafe to get your hot chocolate. he insisted on doing it for you, but in the end relented and let you go inside. everything was going smoothly until the barista asked you for your number. you didn't need someone's phone number to give them a cup of hot chocolate. this asshole didn't need your number.

you already had scaramouche. was he blind? that was what went through his head. he wanted to tear the barista's head off. he bet it would pop off so easy, like a bottle cap under too much pressure. if it wasn't for your voice pleading with him to calm down, he would've gotten physical with the barista.

anybody would've gotten fed up and exhausted by now. especially since he raised a further argument when you both were banned from ever coming back. he bartered down for you to be allowed back but not him, since you didn't do anything wrong. that you really liked the whipped cream on their hot chocolate.

scaramouche is the type of hybrid that you have to isolate with when he is in heat. that much was obvious. and that was what he needed the most right now. to be with you, and hide you away from the world, making sure nothing and nobody touched you while he was in heat.

he knew you were strong, but that's exactly why you needed him to protect you.

after the incident at the cafe, scaramouche only completely calmed down when he was fucking his tongue into your cunt. "such a doting, delicate little thing, aren't you," he hissed, looking up at you from between your thighs. "it's going to be a pleasure breeding you," your fingers tightened in his hair, tugging on his ears in an intoxicating way as you pushed his mouth down onto your pussy.

his tongue swirled around your clit, groaning as you grinded on his mouth. he didn't know what was sweeter. the way you tasted or the way you moaned as he latched his lips around your clit.

how good it felt to finally sink his claw into his delicate little mate. you put up with him. cared for him. doted on and indulged him. you'd made him fall so in love, so much so that it was too late by the time he noticed.

now he was going to take care of you in the way you deserved.

and in the dizzying pleasure of cumming on his tongue, you didn't quite know what happened. but what you did know is that you were in love with him to. you didn't expect this cat you found injured to be the force of literal nature that was scaramouche. complete with cute ears. before you knew it, he'd pulled you right in, and you were happy to let him do it, in all the comforting weight of his dominance.

"i want to hear you scream it, slut," scaramouche moaned, his hands tightening on your hips possessively. he had the perfect view of his cock pumping in and out of your pussy from behind. your walls squeezed around his cock hearing him mock your moans as he bottomed out into your sweet spot over and over again. "babble about how badly you want to be bred."

your sopping cunt clutched tight and warm like a glove, your walls gummy and perfect. his eyes rolled into the back of his head how good you felt squeezing his cock.

"please, breed me. you feel so good inside me," you cried out, drool soaking the pillow under your cheek. he chuckled shakily behind you, you were always so eager to please him. even the way you shook, creaming hard on his cock was an intoxicating sight to behold.

a truly delicate gift for him to break.

the harder he made you cum, the more you begged him to fuck you full of cum. "cock drunk whore," scaramouche moaned, his thrusts turning sloppy as his cock pulsed cum inside of you. he doubted you could hear his soft whimpers of bliss over your own, which were much louder.

[erosology]

slow, sloppy makeout sessions with captain john price :( him coming home late from work, dark, puffy bags under his eyes and the stench of cigars clinging to his skin as an indicator of how stressful the day was. His strong brow furrowed in frustration but smooths out once he sees you; his hands reaching out to you and immediately pulling you in as soon as you’re within arm’s reach; wrestling you into his clutches so you two can watch a movie and unwind together; wandering fingers tracing the bare skin of your hip as your shirt hikes up higher and higher before splaying flat across your stomach; feeling his breath dance across the back of your neck as you try your hardest to follow along to the plot

“this part is really important, sweetheart,” he whispers into your ear. “you need to pay close attention”

but you can’t—not when his familiar scent is filling your nose and you can feel the strong, reliable beat of his heart knocking against his ribs and his fingers are grazing against the band of your underwear. and somewhere along the way, you find yourself facing him and all of the beauty that is him and nearly go blind with love and lust, delicate fingers tracing the outline of your eyes as if teasing to tear them out. it’d be worth it, you think, worth having the last thing you see be your lover’s tired, handsome face

and after some more teasing and giggles, you feel his soft beard tickle your cheek and nearly melt into a puddle of desperation. hands shaking with need, you pull him closer by the collar of his shirt and a chuckle reverberates in his chest—low, sweet, tender

“eager, love?”

“jus’ wan’ you, john.”

“you've got me, silly girl. always have, always will”   

his fingers fiddle with the hem of your shirt as his chapped lips brush against your cheek, and then your nose, and then he slowly grazes them across yours before he slots them together. his kisses, much like him, start off slow, sensual, gentle until the sparks dance together and a fire inevitably starts and you’re choking on cigar smoke and love and other minuscule things. his calloused palms graze your thigh, stomach, sternum, anything that reminds him of how human you both are and how much he adores your skin. soft moans and groans blend together until someone opens their mouth and then suddenly, tongues are tangled together as you try and swallow each other’s pants

somewhere along the way, you’ve wound up in his lap, grinding against his hardening cock, and now his hands are on your hips and encouraging your movement. more moans tumble out of his lips followed by some curses, his lips swollen and his tongue swiping across them

“f-fuck, baby,” he pants. “slow down. i want to taste you a bit more, yeah? kiss me some more.”

and how can you resist? truth be told, you think you might be able to sit on this very couch for the rest of your life, legs wrapped around his waist and fingers tangled in his hair, lips working against his and pulling pretty noises out of his throat. and honest to god, he thinks he would allow it, maybe even indulge in it a little. because he’s here in his living room, some sort of movie he lost track of the plot of long ago playing on his television, your teeth brushing against his bottom lip as you suck it into your mouth, surrounded by love and relaxation

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

33 / 1.8k / shark mermen Gaz and Soap for mermay :)

...

You emerge from the cold saltwater with a gasp and cling to the only thing you can—a metal buoy, just as freezing as the ocean.

Something brushes your leg. Again. Then you feel a jolt of pain.

A moment later, he surfaces—the mer who cut you off from the boat and pursued you here. He looms closer, curious eyes fixed on you.

"Don't come any closer!" you tell him, half-strangled by seawater. You wish you sounded stronger. Your throat burns raw and your voice is choked. You press yourself up closer to the tower-shaped navigation buoy in a vain attempt to pull yourself away from him.

Gaz cocks his head to the side at the command, his black eyes flickering to your mouth in recognition. He treads the rough water effortlessly, lazily, the shape of his body under the water rolling.

He understands you perfectly. Then he moves closer anyway.

You sputter, fingers slipping as you scrabble for a better hold to—you're not sure, pull yourself to safety? There's nowhere to go.

He looms over you. You turn your face away and press into the buoy as tightly as you can. He rests his hand against the metal near your head, claws digging into the rust. His eyes rake over your body. You’re cold. Wet. Scared. Gaz can’t keep his eyes from moving all over you. From your wild, dripping wet hair down to where you disappear into the sea, thin human skin flat against curved metal. All the soft, exposed flesh in between.

Tentatively—when he doesn’t grab you—you steal a glance at him. His broad shoulders are bare, skin dark and smooth. Scars mark the sculpted muscles of his chest and forearms. Saltwater in the open cuts on your arm force your attention back to the situation at hand. He spots the bloody rivulets running down your forearm at the same time you do. It’s not just a series of cuts—it’s a bite mark. He bit you.

Then something big brushes your leg. You jolt, kicking, your shin banging hard against the base of your safe buoy. You nearly jump out of your skin when a second mer surfaces right behind you.

Gaz follows your stare back to the second mer. It’s Soap.

Soap grins, razor-sharp teeth flashing in the dim light. His dark hair is drenched, swept back from his face and away from his eerie all-blue eyes. When you don’t react immediately, freezing up instead, his hands crawl up your waist. You shriek. Soap laughs at your reaction. He tightens his hands on your waist and pulls you so easily from the buoy into the cage of his arms.

You struggle to keep yourself aloft without anything to hold on to. Soap seems blasé about keeping you high enough above the surface to breathe. He's more interested in your peculiar human features—your gilless ears, your flat teeth, the soft skin that extends well past your waist and hips. Even Gaz moves closer, enthralled with the sight of you wrapped up in Soap’s arms, your comparatively tiny human hands gripping and splashing around in a way they’d consider rather cute. Like a kitten curling its paws around a toy rather than someone fighting just to stay afloat.

Your lungs still burn with salt and your sparse clothes cling to you as you twist in the waves. Desperate to escape, you shove your left hand against Gaz's chest and your right elbow against Soap's, trying to make room for yourself between them and lift yourself away from Soap's curious, clawed hands. But there isn't much you can do.

Gaz stares down at your hand lingering on his chest. You have such short, blunt, thin claws. How are humans supposed to protect themselves with those? He looks up to see Soap attempting to wrestle your squirming, slippery little human body more securely into his arms.

"I had her," Gaz says in their mer language.

You can't understand it. To you, it sounds strange and half-muted, but you can feel the depth of the vocalizations in Gaz's chest and snatch your hand away as if burned.

“And now I have her,” Soap says.

"You shouldn't have grabbed her. She’s riled up now."

 “You just want to be the only one to see her up close. You can share." Not to mention he knows how Gaz can be. If Gaz were to get his hands on you first, Soap would be lucky to see a damn thing, much less touch you. Soap, on the other hand, knows how to share. “Have a look at the skin. Like an eel’s, but with little hairs.”

Gaz glares at him but obliges, dipping under the waves as he moves closer. He can’t resist the temptation of that soft flesh, so different from his own. Especially when Soap’s already got his hands on you and is feeling you up as much as he likes.

He circles you slowly as his eyes adjust to see you better in the low light. The rest of you is just as interesting as what's above water, if not more. You've got knees. Feet, even. He skims a claw from your ankle to your thigh. You kick in response, and Soap's long tail twists in the water to keep hold of you. Your feet, your legs—they’re so tiny. All flesh, no fins at all. Even when you kick, they just slide through the water so uselessly.

Above the water, you cry out at the sudden feeling. Cold dread settles into your gut as you recognize these two for what they are—not just mer, but sharks. Their size and sharp teeth give them away. Not to mention their skin. It looks like human skin, but it's smooth when rubbed in one direction and sandpaper-rough in the other. Exactly like the skin of the creatures they mimic.

You push blindly against Soap's chest, ignoring the bite of his claws as he holds on to you. You're certain they're about to pull you underwater and drown you. Maybe eat you. You've already been bitten.

Then, over the roar of blood in your ears, you hear the distant sound of a boat's bell. You swivel your head to see a small rescue boat. Someone must have noticed you were snatched overboard. Instantly, energy pulses into your limbs again. You push yourself up as far as you can, nails digging into Soap's shoulder, and you wave your arms and shout for all you’re worth to get the rescue boat's attention.

Soap whips his head around to follow the sound of the boat. He knows exactly what it is, and he doesn't like it one bit. The more he tries to hold you still, though, the louder and shriller your cries get. There's no chance the boat will miss you like this. Humans have really good eyesight even without their little lights. He could just let you go. He wanted to see you up close, and he did. But with Gaz circling below the water, and with every little touch reinforcing his curiosity about you, and with the smell of your blood filling his senses, he decides he and Gaz haven't had nearly enough time to study you.

With a beat of his tail, Soap pushes away from you.

You sink instantly, gasping in a mouthful of saltwater as you struggle to right yourself. You break the surface of the water one more time, but all that comes out when you try to call for help again is a watery choke.

A clawed hand wraps around your ankle and pulls you down. Your head submerges. Everything goes muffled besides the sharp stinging in your nose, eyes, and the bite on your arm. Soap's grip is like steel, pulling you down, down, down until the surface is just a glittering ripple far away. Your wild thrashing just tires you out, which makes keeping you under easier. He can only imagine the kind of panic that’s taking hold. Humans are notoriously poor swimmers.

Your vision spots as you struggle. Soap knows exactly what he's doing. His blood sings in his veins, the thrill of the hunt overriding everything. The moment is perfect: you under his control even as you fight like good prey.

The pressure of the water grows immense. It presses in on your eardrums and your chest cavity. You fight against the urge to breathe, but you are well and truly running out of oxygen.

Soap feels your struggling grow weaker. There's no way you're getting away now. You’re all his.

Suspended in the water above you both, Gaz understands exactly what Soap's instincts are telling him to do. His are saying the same thing: to strike while you're vulnerable, disoriented, desperate.

Instead, he dives to Soap and stops him.

"What are you doing?" he snaps. "Humans can't survive in the water."

Soap blinks like he’s turning his brain back on. "Aye. Am only hiding her."

"For how long?"

"Til the boat leaves. Morning, maybe."

Gaz grits his teeth. Before Soap can protest, Gaz darts up and grabs you with a burst of speed, ripping you right out of Soap’s grasp. The way he hooks you into the inside of his elbow knocks the last of the air out of you.

Your head spins. Your body is wracked by a dry, painful cough, and your mouth opens as your body instinctively tries to find air. Water fills your lungs. Gaz feels you convulse. He clamps his hand around your mouth. But it doesn't do you any good.

He propels you both up toward the surface. But instead of breaking through, he swims parallel, leaving the rescue boat behind.

You’re clinging to the final frayed threads of consciousness when you finally break the surface of the water. Your back hits sand. The impact forces your diaphragm to push a mouthful of water loose. That gets you coughing again. You flip over and cough what feels like an unsurvivable volume of seawater out of your lungs.

You cough until every muscle in your stomach hurts. You keep coughing as you get to your hands and knees and drag yourself up the rocky beach. Gravel cuts and burrows into your hands and knees. You don't have the capacity to notice anything besides the air you're desperately swallowing.

As soon as you're not completely convinced you'll die here, you collapse onto your side, curling into a fetal position. You don't notice the two lambent pairs of eyes watching you from the shallows.

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5

more Gaz / more Soap / more mer au / masterlist tag

[vrystalius]

Hello hello, I was wondering if you could please write a story (Short scenario) with the Hashiras and maybe the three upper moons. Where the reader aka their S/O had a small fight and is currently ignoring them but then she needs something from them that makes here go there like "Can you please open this for me/help me with this". I just think it would be cute to see their reaction to the reader being all flustered about having to ask them for help.

(Take your time and stay safe i luv you~) 💛❤️💛❤️

Giving your boyfriend the silent treatment…

…until you need help opening something. (Includes both Hashira and Upper Moons)

Pairing: Sanemi, Kyojuro, Gyomei, Giyu, Tengen, Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza x fem!human!reader

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Sanemi would grow incredibly frustrated when you use the silent treatment against him. He’d try to ignore you as well by crossing his arms over his chest and sit in a different room, back facing the door at all times. He can’t stop thinking about you brooding and being upset with him, wich in return, makes him even more angry! Gods, you’re infuriating sometimes.

But once you come up to him and ask him to open a new jar of jam, he’d try to look mad, even though he wasn’t.

“You sure got some nerve to ask me now.”

He tries to show you that he still is kinda pissed with you, but still loves you. Sanemi would grumble about your timing and attitude from before while wrestling with the lid. After struggling for multiple minutes and failing, he got upset again and just gave it back to you, grumbling.

“Ask someone else, damnit! Don’t annoy me.”

Kyojuro Rengoku

Arguments are the worst for him. Kyojuro will feel and look like a distraught puppy who just got denied love for the rest of his life. He understands that you need space and will provide it, but the silent treatment is really breaking his heart. Kyojuro would sometimes try to start a conversation by asking about you what you’re doing or how you’re feeling.

He will feel absolutely delighted when you talk to him again. Of course he’d open a bottle for you! Happily so!

“Give it to me, I got it!”

Kyojuro popped the lid with ease and handed the bottle back to you, giving you puppy eyes and a bright smile. You seriously can’t ignore him anymore, it’s just too sad to see him depressed…

“Oh! You’re talking to me again! I’ve missed you, my flame!”

Gyomei Himejima

Although he’s not fond of your methods of resolving conflict and considers them a little childish, Gyomei will oblige, for now.

He will give you the same treatment you’re giving him, but will still remain around your person. Gyomei’ll silently meditate or pray while you continue your antics, being just as quiet as you are. He’d ponder about arguments he could deliver to you to break your silence and resolve this issue, but before he could come up with anything, you come up to him with a jar of honey. After you ask him to open it for you, Gyomei would softly smile and take the jar.

“Of course, my pearl.”

He opened it with ease and handed it back to you, but before you could go back to whatever you were doing, Gyomei’d speak up again.

“How about we resolve our argument now? I do not want to continue to fight.”

Giyu Tomioka

Giyu would unintentionally give you the silent treatment after arguments, and you decided to give one back. After noticing the lack of conversations and the sound of your voice, he’d feel more sad and try to avoid you all together to avoid even more conflict or your silent side glances. Giyu jumps slightly when you ask him to open a jar of fermented foods. He was incredibly surprised that you’d want to talk to him.

“Mhm. Give it.”

He… struggled with opening it. He tried around for two more minutes until he managed to open it with a spoon and using 80% of his strength. He feels embarrassed for failing opening something for you.

“You’re welcome.”

Tengen Uzui

How unflashy of you to ignore him like this. Do you know how bratty you look like? Sometimes he just wants to stick out his tongue at you when you’re not looking. Tengen would sulk and complain to the other girls about you, but Hinatsuru, Makio and Suma stick to you and your petty silent treatment, but they’d stick to you and would ignore him as well. You’re all ganging up on him at this point.

But once you come back to him and ask him for help opening your favourite drink, Tengen would feign being helpful.

“Gimme that, I’ll open it for you, beautiful~”

He’d open the glass for you and then proceed to chug everything down in one go, right in front of you while making sure to stay out of your reach.

“That’s what you get for being bratty!”

(He was not allowed back into the bedroom that night)

Kokushibo

You are being very immature. Kokushibo can give you the same silent treatment you are giving him, and he will outlast you by far. He will act very nonchalant about you ignoring him and will stop attempting making conversation after two tries. Kokushibo would return to his training or meditation, or sometimes even go on long missions to punish you even more for acting this petty.

Once you come back to him and ask him to open a jar of jam for you, Kokushibo will just stare you down silently.

“…..”

He proceeded to give you the silent treatment and not open the jar for you. You were left to fend for yourself. But at somepoint, Kokushibo could not watch you struggling to open the jar by using a sharp knife in hopes to get the lid loose. He snatched the jar out of your hands and opened it with ease.

“Here. Take it. Don’t try that again, you will injure yourself.”

Douma

Your silent treatment is very entertaining to Douma. Is this your way to punish him? How funny! He will try everything to make you break your silence by annoying you. Douma will nuzzle into your neck, kiss your most sensitive spots, whine into your ear, complain about your behaviour, poke against your cheek and pinch your skin. C’mon, do something with him! Anything! Stop ignoring him! Douma just kept following you around, whining around like a child.

Finally, you he saw you struggling with opening a jar of tea herbs and offered to help.

“Need help with that, lotus?”

Douma snatched the jar out of your hand and opened in a matter of seconds, but didn’t hand it back. He wanted you to say “I love you” before he hands it back. You gave in while heavily rolling your eyes, but Douma wasn’t satisfied with that. After a back and forth, you finally satisfied him by saying “I love you my dearest, lovely Douma” in a sincere tone. In his eyes, he won your silent treatment game.

“I won! Awww, why do you look so mad? Here, take your herbs back…. No thank you? What, are you ignoring me again?! Come ooooonnnn…”

Akaza

He was hurt and slightly scared by your silent treatment. Are you planning to leave him? Akaza would understand that. He’s rough, angry, a demon, prideful, not good with expressing his thoughts… the list of his flaws go on. Your silence is making him incredibly nervous and he let his nervous energy out during training and against the walls of the infinity castle until his knuckles bleed.

Then, finally, you approach Akaza with a problem: you can’t open your jar of candies. He felt himself smile slightly at your defeated face.

“So now you need me? Hm.”

Akaza casually tried slipping the lid off, but it was stuck. He felt his pride crumble bit by bit with everytime he tried opening the lid and failed. His anger rose and he slammed the jar against the corner of the wall, shattering the top of the glas jar off. The glass fell in onto your feet.

“… There.”

💠

This was one of my favourite requests so far! Thank you so much for requesting!! I’m currently working on How the Upper Moons would react to your affection, similar to what I posted with the hashira, so I was kinda switching back and forth between this and the other fic. Somehow, when I feel stressed, I’m the most creative and productive xD

Also, I absolutely love reading all of your comments and reposts. Some made me laugh out loud in public, so thank you for that!

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!! <3

Take care of yourselves <33 I appreciate you all.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Wrapped Around Your Finger

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.1k

Warnings: fluff, arm wrestling

Summary: Tony instigates an arm wrestling contest with Bucky, and no one can beat him until you step up to the plate. The thing is, he’s a superhuman and you’re just a regular person. Something isn’t adding up here.

Squares Filled: thor (2021) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

x

Tony never fails to throw a legendary party. You’ve never been invited to one until you were drafted into the team. You’re not a superhuman, you don’t have powers, and you can easily be killed in a fight. However, you do have amazing hacking skills that have been useful for the team over the past year. You can remotely get into any account, jump over any firewall, and hack into any system with your equipment from your office.

You don’t even have to leave the compound to help.

To be surrounded by such powerful people is a bit overwhelming, but you try not to show how much it’s affecting you. Alcohol always calms you down so you immediately head to the bar. Sam laughs from the right of you, and you see he’s talking to Steve and Bucky over by the pool table. Ah, Bucky Barnes. The Winter Soldier. The hottest man at the party. The hottest man in any room. To look more casual, Bucky sports a backward hat and a thin t-shirt that accentuates his muscles. No one here is scared of him so he’s not shy about hiding his metal arm.

You often fantasize about what his arm could really do to someone like you.

“You should go over and talk to him.” You jump at Natasha’s voice, and you look to see her and Wanda standing next to you. “Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not staring at him.”

“We never said you were,” Wanda smirks.

“You definitely were, though.”

“Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Okay, stop. I’m not crushing on Bucky.”

“It’s okay if you are. He’s hot.”

“Why don’t you talk to him if you think he’s so hot?” you grumble.

“Not my type,” Nat answers. “I’m already a deadly assassin. I don’t need another one in my life.”

“Why don’t I go over to him and tell him how much you love him?” Wanda suggests with a smirk.

“Don’t you dare, Maximoff.”

Both women laugh, and Natasha slaps a hand on your shoulder.

“Lighten up. Have another drink.” Natasha orders you another drink and you take it gratefully. “Seriously, though, you should go for it. You clearly don’t see the looks he gives you when you’re not paying attention. He’s whipped for you. You could ask him for anything and he’d give it to you.”

“I’m nothing compared to him. He’s a super soldier. I’m just a weak human. He’s not into me.”

Nat and Wanda look at each other, and both of them shrug. “You’ll get there eventually.”

With alcohol in your system, you’re more social with everyone but Bucky. You’d have to get seriously fucked up to talk to Bucky. He makes you so nervous and you don’t want to do anything to embarrass yourself.

By the time ten rolls around, most of the people have left the party so only the Avengers are left. This group is more chilled than the previous one because no one is trying to impress someone. Only the elite have been invited to the party, and they were starstruck in the eyes of the Avengers. Everyone here knows what everyone can do so it’s more laid back and chill.

“Be honest with me,” Tony says to Bucky. “How much can you bench with that thing?”

“I don’t know,” Bucky chuckles. “I never tested it.”

“I bet I could take you.”

“Excuse me?”

“In an arm wrestling contest. Get your mind out of the gutter. I don’t run that way.”

Tony is drunk otherwise he wouldn’t be saying this, but Bucky finds amusement in it. Tony is persistent which is how you got here. Everyone wants a piece of Bucky’s metal arm to see if they can beat him. Knowing he can’t do it by himself, Tony grabs one of his Iron Man suit arms to give him that extra boost.

Tony fails, and Bucky doesn’t even look like he broke out in a sweat.

Rhodey tries and fails. Natasha and Clint know better than to take on a vibranium arm without powers. Bruce is scared he’ll turn into the Hulk if he strains himself too much. Wanda doesn’t compete because she’ll probably win with her magic, and she’s curious as to how this is going to end. Steve steps up to the plate and grabs Bucky’s metal hand confidently. The only person who thinks he might actually have a shot. Both men start the match, and Steve looks like he is going to win when Bucky gets a second wind and slams Steve’s hand on the desk.

The only person who can beat Bucky without any issue is Thor, but he’s on Asgard right now so he’s out of the running.

“Who’s next?” Bucky asks confidently.

“You’re so sure he’s whipped for me?” you whisper to Nat and Wanda. “There’s a way to tell if he is or not.”

“How?”

“He’ll let me win.” You step up to the table and take off your jacket. “I can do it.”

“You’re not doing it, Doll,” Bucky chuckles. “You’re going to get hurt.”

“What, are you chicken?” You look at everyone. “Hear that everyone? Bucky’s scared to go up against a girl.”

“Fine.” You turn to Bucky. “It’s your health. I won’t be the one who will end up with a broken arm.”

Bucky changes hands and grabs your hand with his flesh one.

“Why not your other hand?”

“I’m not using my metal arm on someone who doesn’t have any powers. It won’t be a fair fight.”

He has a point. You position yourself and look at Steve who taps the desk. You and Bucky immediately start to wrestle, and you’re using every bit of strength you have. Bucky has to admit, you’re strong for a woman of your stature but it’s not enough to beat him. However, the look of concentration and determination you have is too cute to diminish.

He pulls his strength back and lets you slam his hand to the desk.

You jump back and cheer for your victory, and he can’t help but smile. Everyone knows he let you win but you don’t care. You’re the only one who has been able to beat him whether or not it was a pity win. You join Nat and Wanda’s side with a huge smile on your face, and Steve and Sam approach Bucky with knowing looks on theirs.

“You let her win,” Steve says.

“You’re whipped, man,” Sam laughs.

“Yeah, I did, but look how happy she is.”

“You know he let you win, right?” Natasha whispers to you.

“Yeah, but that proves one thing. I have that man wrapped around my finger. He’s into me,” you beam.

“Finally, you see it,” Wanda laughs.

You look back at Bucky to see him already looking at you, and you smile right back.

x

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[wannaeatramyeon]

Gun Park x Reader: Feverish Confessions

G/N. 1.8k. You kindly take care of Gun. Soft. Masterlists

You were under the notion that Gun Park could not get ill.

That his antibodies also had ultra instinct and there was no virus strong enough to even consider invading his body.

But alas, you found out he was human when you discovered him unsteady on his feet, pink cheeked and sweat sheened.

"You ok?" You ask, reaching out the back of your hand to feel his forehead.

"Don't touch me," he says without any of his usual bite. That was the first warning sign.

The second one comes when he fails to dodge your grasp and you do make contact with his skin.

"You're burning up."

"I'm not."

"You're ill."

"I'm not."

"You're being a child "

"I am not."

.

.

You decide the best course of action is to get Gun home. He's in no fit state to find his own way back and Goo is no help. In fact, no one is any help at all when Gun's energy quickly drains and he struggles to stay upright.

"How fucking heavy are you," you grit out, trying to push his weight off you.

"Fuck you," Gun mutters as Goo whispers something to Kouji and he snorts.

"Poor oppa," Crystal titters, a smirk on her face, watching you both with sharp eyes.

"Fuck you," Gun now directs in her general direction.

"Yeah, fuck you all," you snap in agreement, staggering under the heft of his body.

.

.

With a strength and patience you didn't know you possessed, you wrestle him into the passenger seat of your car and drive Gun home at breakneck speed.

He murmurs, delirious fever-induced ramblings, between laboured breaths as you hum in response, keeping your attention on the road.

To your surprise, you catch him speaking your name and each time your eyes flicker to his, you find him staring at you, even if his own eyes appear glazed and unfocused.

Gun repeats your name again, like a question.

"Nearly home," you tell him as a way of comfort and seemingly appeased, he doesn't say anything else.

.

.

"All that money and you still live in a junkyard," you comment, holding on to his arm around your shoulder and the other around his waist, slowly ambling towards his shack.

"Shut up."

"I'll shut up when you don't live in a shit hole anymore."

"Shut up."

"Make me," you stop in your tracks and send a cocky grin his way.

Gun, in his weakened condition, only manages to glare back.

"That's what I thought."

"I said shut up."

.

.

Gun collapses into bed, or more accurately you try and throw him off you and hope for the best that he lands onto a more comfortable surface.

You take in his sorry state and actually find yourself feeling sympathy for him. All that money and power but when it comes down to it, who is there to look after him when he needs it? It's a lonely existence.

(Not that you're faring any better but you push that thought out of your mind.)

"Don't you dare kick me," you warn, bending to take off his shoes.

"Stop," he moans, barely lucid and you know that if he was any healthier, you would have been booted in the side of the head.

You look at him again and probably against your better judgement, decide your next move.

"I swear I'm not taking advantage of you," you say, holding your hands up to show you mean no harm and making quick work of his clothes - unbuttoning his shirt and his slacks and removing his socks.

Gun doesn't respond and he doesn't fight you. You know this looks questionable. Undressing an unconscious person is never a good sign. Except he's lying there with his flushed cheeks and clammy forehead, fringe flopping down and sticking to his face and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth for him.

Once he's down to his underwear, you tuck him under the covers.

You hum to yourself, feeling for his forehead again. Gun groans under your touch but he's no worse than this morning.

.

.

Gun's pantry, despite the threadbare surroundings, is exceptionally well stocked.

You know from your many outings together of his high standards though you didn't expect that he was much of a cook himself. Of course, you should have known that Gun Park doesn't do anything by halves.

After rooting through his cupboards and drawers, you find what you need. You cover a saucepan with rice and adjust water levels according to the length of your finger knuckle, seasoning it with various spices and adding ingredients from his fridge.

What you're doing for him is above and beyond. You've already assured his comfort, cooking him rice porridge is unnecessary, and you can imagine unappreciated-

However, you think of all those times you've been out with Gun and Goo, drank more than your fair share of Soju and Gun is the one who has delivered you safely home; Gun’s cruel taunts when you come back from fights with bruises and cuts and his disparaging comments even as he makes time to train you to be a better fighter; how Gun never snaps at you the same way he does Kouji, or talk to you how he does Crystal, or treat you how he does Goo and-

Well. Maybe he does deserve a little of your kindness.

.

.

An hour later, just as the sun starts to dip below the horizon and you’ve had more than your fill of doom scrolling - the rice porridge is ready.

You spoon a small bowl for Gun and set it on his nightstand.

“Who are you?” comes Gun’s croaky voice, hand shooting forward and snatching at your wrist.

“It’s me,” you say, “And be careful you don’t knock this off.”

HIs grip lessens but he doesn’t let go. “Knock what off?”

“I made you food,” you sit down on the bed next to his lying form.

“Why?”

“What do you mean why, look at you!” 

“What do you want?”

“Nothing, don’t be an asshole.”

Two blinks, then - “Why are you taking care of me?”

“Because!” you huff, feeling your face flush.

“Do you like me?” Gun asks, and the question is so left field you’re reeling. You don’t have a chance to respond or even collect your thoughts before he continues on in his fever haze.

“I caught a fragrance the other day that smells exactly like you. It’s odd that I know this.” He looks towards the ceiling, mind a blur of thoughts.

“When did I start to hoard these facts like a pathetic idiot? I barely know who you are, what you like and what you dislike. And yet I look at you and I can tell exactly what you're thinking."

"Can you do the same to me?" Gun turns to look at you, eyes a dull bronze and you forget to breathe. There’s a startling clarity as his gaze pierces yours. 

“Wh-what?” You stammer at his sudden confession, the sight of his natural eyes leaving your sanity further hanging by a thread. Did he just- Did he mean?

“Maybe not.” The clarity fades. Gun closes his eyes and finally lets go. "Only a fool wouldn't be able to tell."

"Oh." Then you add, “Am I a fool?”

"Only a fool would like another fool."

.

.

The bowl of rice porridge is left uneaten. 

.

.

You watch Gun, coughing in his sleep, and message Crystal that you won’t make it into work the next day.

.

.

That night, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Gun’s timeworn sofa digging into your back and his jacket as a make-shift blanket keeping you warm.

It smells like him. Of course it does, it’s his. But you realise you recognise his scent too.

.

.

Gun spends the next day floating between half-conscious and sleeping. He no longer has any burst of energy to compose his thoughts or spill his desires.

You check in on him every now and then, pleased when you find his bowl empty and refilling it each time. 

You hand searches for his forehead. It never fails to smooth the furrow between his brow as he murmurs your name in his sleep.

.

.

It’s sort of funny how those few words changed how you look at this man.

The other day he was a pain in your backside, and you could have sworn you were one in his too.

You’ve lost count of the amount of times you wanted to punch him for his scathing remarks, that arrogant glint in his eyes, that smirk on his face.

Yet now, those feelings don’t really lessen, but you wonder if Gun would keep smirking or would he shut up if you kissed him instead.

.

.

Crystal: Assume you’re not coming into work tomorrow?

Y/N: Sorry, Gun still looks bad.

Goo: Gun????????

Goo: You’re shacking up with Gun????

Y/N: What?????

Y/N: No!!!

Y/N: I’m not shacking up with anyone!

Goo: Liar 

Kouji: Ok…

Kouji: But

Kouji: You’ve been skipping work to look after hyung?

Y/N: …

Y/N: No?

Y/N: Maybe…

Crystal: Yes you have

Goo: What!!! Nooooooo

Kouji: Pay up, Goo Kim. I was right.

.

.

Gun’s fever breaks the day after.

Your hand reaches out to feel his forehead and he opens his eyes, dark as night once more, to look at you.

“You’re still here?”

“I am,” You give him a smile when you feel his temperature back to normal.

He reaches up, large hand and long fingers wrapping around your own, and manoeuvres it down to rest your palm against his cheek.

“You’ve been here all this time?”

His fever has subsided, but the contact makes you feel like you’re on fire, “Yep.”

A hum, then “Good.” 

Gun leans into your hold, turning his head, the side of his lips lightly grazing your skin.

“Can you tell what I am thinking?”

You’re rewarded with a smile, small and serene, when you roll your eyes and tell him yes, and that you're both fools after all.

[r0-boat]

WHB Asmodeus Nsfw Alphabet

This is going to be the most unholy thing I've written aaaa

Cw: feminization Kink, slightly misogynist?? (He thinks he is the ultimate male and anyone That isn't him are underneath him and his to take) , breeding/pregnancy, aphrodisiac, pheromones, Marathon sex, primal Kink, noncon, (honestly I think he should be a trigger warning in itself)

Gn! Mc

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Good males take care of their females; they should cherish their lover's body just as passionately. Since he is the prime partner, he is the king of aftercare.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Yes.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Don't get me wrong, he does like seeing come all over you, but All of his seed must go in you. Whether it be your mouth or your whole body, you had better not waste a single drop. And if any does, he'll just use it as an excuse to fill you up again.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I don't think it's a secret but... He wants to have and orgy with all the kings and you. Even if they don't let him touch them. He would be just fine to see how they fuck you.

Oh how he dreams of seven of the most powerful demons in hell descending upon you like rabid sex addicted beasts ruining you.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Honey he is the experience...

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mating press, pressing your body down, forcing you to do nothing else but take him.

With gravity and the wild thrusting of his hips doing all the work as he jackhammers down into you nice and deep, gravity will do all the work for him when he finally explodes deep inside of you.

All that while he holds you tightly his hands giving access to your body, as well as his eyes and nose to take you in.

The two of you will be consumed in each other

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Yes. He knows he looks intimidating, So it's surprising, but instead of taking you right there and then, he wants to talk to you, crack jokes, tease you, and be goofy; he needs to get all that out before he fucks you so hard. You can only respond in moans and screams.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Sometimes. Really depends on his mood.

Sometimes, he does shave, but most of the time, he has a little bit of hair down there as well as a happy line going up to his belly button.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

I think Asmodeus is very intimate with hugs, kisses, cuddling, and rubbing against you.

He will spoil you. he is the romance. If he really wants you, He will make it known.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Asmodeus jacks off before sex, And it's always before sex. He can't help it. He just gets a little excited :). When you're taking your clothes off? He's touching his dick. When he's kissing you? Fucking his hand.

He's touching himself until he's inside you

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He likes everything but he has a few that drives him wild.

Asmodeus loves primal sex, biting, wrestling, growling, fucking doggy, and predator/prey. Demons, Angels, or humans are all animals and slaves to their instincts.

PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP PLAP GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT GET PREGNANT-.

"But Ro, what if I'm a dude?" Not with him, you're not. He wants you nice and cute for him, a lovely little dress perhaps? Makeup so he could make it run later. Some lovely stocking that hugs your thighs. Why are you so nervous, Child of Solomon? You look so adorable!

He wants to corrupt you and give you kinks that you never thought you would have. Make you drunk on his scent and cock until you're nothing but his mindless little cock slave lover. Wouldn't that be nice? If it were up to him. If it were really up to him. After this silly little war, He would keep you barefoot and pregnant; he's already lost two of his lovers... He will not lose another one.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere everywhere.

However, there is nothing more sexy than taking you in front of an audience That looks at you, hungry for a taste, but they're not allowed to have you until he's done unless permission is given.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Anything could turn him on. You could be with him, his arm around you, and he could start whispering how much he fucking wants you right now. He only gives you warnings and meetings, though. If not, he'll just drag you somewhere else to fuck you. You're not safe.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Nope :) He's a whore your honor

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Mmm, mouths. He likes mouths, inexperienced or not, you'll have you gagging on his cock. Your muffled cries and gags will make him throb.

On the other hand, his mouth tasting your sweet, sweet juices. Eating you out like a starving man, he'll make you cry and scream on his tongue alone.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He likes slow and sensual, but Asmodeus prefers primal. He wants to bite you on the neck and take you hard and fast. Chasing orgasm after orgasm until you are full and bred, and even then, I don't think he'll stop.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies do not exist to Asmodeus, a concept of a quickie for him lasts for a day.

"You want me to stop being inside you because you have something else more important? What's more important than me???"

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Oh, he experiments. You'll not be doing the same thing twice, that's for sure. Well, except for breeding, just let him fill you up, please, just one more time...

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Literally days, literally days... You will not leave that bed for 3 to 4 business dick appointment days

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Oh yes definitely He has a whole closet full of toys and that's not even his full collection. There's more in the prison!

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Seeing you so small and pitiful, having you whine and beg for his cock fills his ego please do it more.

"Just one more whimper? Come on beg me one more time... Oh darling say my name like that again; I promise I'll be inside you soon just do that again!"

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Loud and proud, grunting, growling, groaning, mewling moaning everything

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Asmodeus has bad bad baby fever.

He misses being a father. Not only that, he also misses filling someone up to the brim, knowing full well that they are claimed. He misses the way breasts swell when they are full with milk. And he misses that swollen tummy when it's filled with his spawn.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Not too big not too small literally perfect, beautiful cock that looks so good it's fake.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Yes.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

No. Man has infinite stamina. Infinite stamina to leave you curled up in his bed he'll smile because he knows no one can be as hungry as he can. He'll kiss you and leave you there as he goes off to do something else or do someone else, lol.

[zan0tix]

Any general thoughts on/relating to the Brobot?

Have my half awake scrawlings...

I really love the brobot!!!! People really misconstrue it and also leave it out in a lot of dirkjake talk? Its a big player in not only how dirk expresses his affection/desire towards jake but also in their multi year spanning unspoken game of gay chicken 😭😭(all of dirks splinters are but Not about them rn)

It was sent yknow under the pretense that jake loves wrestling and wished so bad to have somebody he could wrestle with. But at the same time it protects jake from the horrors of hellmurder island (seen before they strife), pushing jake into the Damsel in distress role he wasnt expecting to play even before all the shit in the game, with Dirk being his hero.

Jake says he keeps it on a high difficulty because apparently in the Novice mode he says their interactions become "too tender" and doesnt want to elaborate, Friendly reminder! His convo with jane on the SAME DAY dirk pulled off that big romantic overture and the kiss happens and him and dirk begin "dating".. is the same day he asked jane if it didnt make him weird for wanting to date dirk. And he also says hed joke around with dirk about how theyd soo make a great couple if dirk were a girl haha.

I imagine the brobot and well. Getting physical like that with a robot that supposedly looks like dirk probably gave jake his internal gay awakening at 13 but he just never wanted to actually confront it and instead just wanted to brush past everything 😭😭 (See: every single time sexuality or romance comes up in relation to jake he is literally always thinking about dirk somehow and he never directly talks about his attraction to men or how that reflects/contradicts on his self image of the Movie Star Hero guy)

and jake doesnt actually hate the thing either, he tells jane he thinks it genuinely did improve his fighting capabilities (Which we see it did in collide! he beat basically the whole felt with guns and fisticuffs alone, no hope powers.) Which serves as a pretty evident parallel to dave who also is good at fighting, even if he doesnt want to be. (see dirk + dave convo)

This one comes from hussies authors notes in the aradiabot and equius scene (which equius imagery being invoked with dirk. something i could totally rant about another time haha) but yeah. Jake was being selfish asshat in that log forcing jane into a corner and wringing what he wanted to hear out of her, and also not giving a shit about the brobot (Which served as his protector and only other semblance of human connection since he was 13 and was a BIRTHDAY GIFT FROM DIRK) KILLING ITSELF? But hes so preoccupied talking about dirk. THE REAL DIRK. And immediately after jake loses the dirk splinter that protected him, HE (AND DIRK) CREATE A NEW ONE FOR HIMSELF USING THEIR COMBINED POWERS/?

Hussie is lying.. somebody Does care about dirks feelings. a whole lot to the point they activate their powers unwittingly Because of it. and its jake. but jake just cant admit that himself. (He cannot admit his real feelings until given permission to, dirk would have to concede the game of gay chicken first using his words and not just actions)

ANYWAY. hussie is so right its so easy to get sidetracked times one million talking about this comic. BUT AHH!! BROBOT. his existence.. tragic.. Jakes really smart in knowing that all of dirks splinters enlighten aspects of himself he doesnt oft share, and the brobot served as another dirk action on the pile of dirk actions he engineers to signify his deep immense care for jake, where he lets these grand gestures and implications sit out in the open without ever actually saying what they mean and where his feelings lay.

EVEN IF ITS SUPER OBVIOUS. The d man cant use his big boy words to actually describe his feelings despite how much a yaps! so jake doesnt know if hes even allowed to say anything about his own. Fellas: Is it gay if you labour for supposedly an extended period of time to create a custom robot in your own image to ship in pieces to your best bro guy crush who is HUNDREDS OF YEARS IN THE PAST because you cant be there yourself?

I think this hal message says enough about how bad dirk wished he could visit jake 💀💀

[s9fti3]

emmett cullen + human!reader HCs??

Of course, Lovebug!!

‘You take the phone in your room…’- Emmett Cullen Headcannons!!

• A big problem for him at first is learning how to be gentle. He realizes really quickly that you get hurt way easier than vampires do, so he has to be careful when it comes to certain things with you. But afterwards, he’s like the gentlest person on earth.

• If you are a girly girly and love to doll yourself up, he’ll just watch you with stars in his eyes. He enjoys watching you do things that you love, even if it is just reapplying your lip gloss.

• When you’re sick, expect him by your side the whole time. Of course he’ll be asking Carlisle how to help you in every way possible, but he’ll say he knows what he is doing.

• For whatever reason, he will sometimes eat human food. He just does it. Especially if you ask him to eat with you cause you don’t wanna eat alone.

• The definition of class clown. He is doing everything and anything to distract the teacher and to see a smile on your face. He loves watching your face go from tired and bored to all smiles and laughter.

• He’s so over protective of you when you are some what close to wolf territory. Like if Jacob shows up to talk with Bella, he’s holding you close and keeping an eye on Jacob the whole time.

• He likes letting you win in arm wrestles. Even though he knows he’ll win without even batting an eye, he’ll still let you win so you can get the satisfaction of winning.

[larcenywrites]

Top 5 Logan's kinks 👀?

These are in no particular order!

Top 5 Kinks

Logan Howlett x Reader

Warnings: 18+ NSFW | no pronouns used for reader | there’s like- two cutesy moments if it counts for anything :3

Breeding/bare- Sure, Logan’s a man. He’s obviously going to prefer no condom. It just feels better for both parties! But Logan is a possessive man, and a territorial beast. It’s only natural for him to mark you in the most primal way he can! But in the case you are able to get pregnant… that’s actually terrifying. Logan is terrified of actually having kids… (which isn’t to say he doesn’t want them… but there are a lot of other problems involved with that 😅) But at his core, Logan is an animal. More so than a “normal” human. It’s literally just another part of his predator instinct. It doesn’t matter if it’s a rough fucking or making love, once he gets into it, you’ll have to remind him several times to pull out (assuming you remember yourself 😩). It also doesn’t help that he can literally smell when you’re ovulating 😳 he gets… pretty ornery— if he even can be more ornery than normal! He’s possessive and horny and really struggling to care despite the risk and his fears 😮‍💨 And with his nose buried in your neck the whole time, not very subtle as he breathes in your scent and damn near panting, it’s really all he can think about 🥴

Collaring- It probably took a lot of practice and maybe a little bit of taming, but Logan is very fond of collar time :3 I have a lot to say about this one, so there’s actually hcs right here! And maybe I just couldn’t think of another kink ;)

Play-fighting/Rough play- Obviously, the constraints of this kink will heavily depend on you 😅 But anything from a quick wrestle to digging your nails into his throat to—if you rile him up enough in the right situation—straight-up stabbing him is on the turn-on list 🤠 You could push him back on the bed a little too confidently, and you’ll activate that fighter instinct... and Logan is actually just pretty playful 🥹 He’s far too strong for you to actually push around very much, but he still likes to have you fight back ;) Don’t worry! Even when he puts you in a headlock between his big ol biceps, he’s still gentle! But fight back!!!!! Even if you know you won’t win!!! Bite his arm, kick him, something!!!!! Maybe having you struggle in his grasp turns him on (prey drive???), but actually having you fight back gets him rock-hard 😩 Training in the Danger Room? The others definitely give you both a hard time at every session now after a spar turned a little more hands-on one time… it was one time 😒 Back in the bedroom, he can enjoy some general rough play as well. Maybe it’s the healing factor, maybe he’s become quite the masochist after a century or two of living, but don’t be afraid to claw down his back and bite as hard as you need into his shoulder! Choke him while he’s collared, or when you’re feeling pretty confident while he’s letting you top for once! Unfortunately, he won’t have anything to show for all your hard work :( but he enjoyed it!

Grinding/dry humping- Logan is a man of action! And an impatient one at that when he’s gotten riled up. It probably took a while to get him into the groove of non-penetrative sex! Besides, sometimes that’s your only option 😅 But Logan is definitely a true believer now 😈 Wake him up by grinding bare on his tummy, or invade his little stress relief hideaway where he’s smoking and/or drinking to hump his thigh 😘 Watch him roll his head back and close his eyes with a sighed grunt of satisfaction. He doesn’t need to watch. Much more into the feeling, your smell, pawing at your thigh/ass… When it comes to full-on dry humping, the man probably swears more and gets more choked up than during penetrative sex 🥴 And for once, he prefers to be bottom while you ground your hips into his. He has to admit, there’s something about the friction of his jeans and the fact you’re both still fully clothed that’s surprisingly way more hot… or perhaps you’re even both still in uniform! Sometimes the adrenaline rush after training just can’t wait 😘

Scenting/smelling- Maybe not necessarily a kink? But it’s definitely something he does on a regular basis, sometimes without either of you really thinking about it! Sometimes he’s just being playful with it! Like sticking his head under your shirt and rubbing his face on your tummy a few times before just resting there with that heavy sigh dogs do when they get comfy in their bed 🥰 If he’s in a good enough mood and tired enough, you might even get a head bump or two to the shoulder while out with the others! It’s definitely not always so innocent and sweet, though… He can pick up smells better than a damn bloodhound, and, combined with that territorial instinct mentioned earlier, there’s definitely going to be some freaky stuff going on behind closed doors 😏 Yes, it’s probably going to be a bit embarrassing every time he sniffs your sex before going down on you. And when sticks his nose in the wet spots he just made you leave on the end 😐 And probably when he sniffs your neck before rubbing his face there. He’s absolutely gotten possessive about you smelling like another man… or maybe he just really doesn’t like waking up in bed to the smell of LeBeau lingering right next to him 😒 Cuddling is one thing, but when he starts trying to subtly rub you down with his face? Well, it’s not very subtle 😐 But he’ll make sure you smell like him again 😌 It settles his territorial side. It’s comforting, in a way! But it also definitely turns him on a little without him meaning for it! Especially when you walk through and he can smell his own arousal on you from the day before ;)