#once again got curious and asking the masses

[sorryitsmyfirstdayonearth]

Treat your mouth as if it's heaven's gate

(Sam Winchester x female reader)

Summary A case brings you and Sam to church, which means Sam needs to dress up as a priest. It's not your fault that it brings such sinful thoughts to you, but it is your fault that you start acting on them… CWs Priest!Sam. They're gonna have to burn down this church. Is it a daddy kink if you call someone Father? Rated 18+. 5.4k words.

Sam Winchester masterlist ⏐ SPN masterlist

You walk into the church dressed as one of the parishioners, right behind an elderly couple who nod and smile at you, but then your eyes fall on Sam and you have a hard time controlling your expression. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson don’t need to know that the sight of their new priest just made you very wet.

Sam and Dean are off to the side, greeting everyone coming in. Dean looks damn nice too - it’s hard for him not too, but your eyes are glued to Sam. The way the black accentuates his long limbs, his broad shoulders. The way he’s just listening intently to someone telling him something, slowly nodding along. It makes your mouth feel dry. You’re a lapsed Catholic so you weren’t exactly excited about this case. But things are looking up.

You make it to the front of the line, where Sam and Dean make a show of introducing themselves, some throwaway Irish names.

“Deloris Van Cartier,” you say with a coy smile as you shake Dean’s hand. He only makes a face that shows his renewed annoyance at the name you insisted on, but when you extend your hand to Sam, you see the small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. His mouth that you’re really taking an interest in right now. He must notice, because when you look up into his eyes again, his hand still hasn’t left yours, his index finger splayed over the inside of your wrist.

“Anything?” Dean mutters and you blink to break the eye contact with Sam, look over at him.

“Nothing so far,” you say, then look back at Sam, only to catch him looking down at you with an unreadable expression. “But I’ll keep watching.”

Service is boring, but it allows you to keep looking at Sam. He and his brother are sitting in the front row, exchanging low words every once in a while, both looking around. It allows you to see his strong profile, expression awake and curious. His hair is sticking out a little on one side, and you want nothing more than to brush it behind his ear. Or tug your fingers into it, make him look at you. You shift in your seat, earning you another friendly nod by Mrs. Johnson. If only she knew. 

After mass, the church empties. Some people stand around, talk, and it’s a good way to ask about the recent murders. The downside is that the Johnsons introduce you to their single neighbor, Jerry. Jerry talks at you like he’s trying to say something like I’m gonna give you the night of your life, then rub at your thigh for two minutes, before asking if you came. You manage to disentangle yourself from that conversation quickly.

When Sam, Dean and you finally check in with each other again, everyone else is gone.

“There’s something suspicious about that padre,” Dean says, blue steeling hard, so you know he’s picked up a trace. He’s capable, so you don’t feel bad about what you suggest.

“Maybe you go and follow him,” you say, “and Sam and I make sure there’s no other clues here?”

For once, Dean doesn’t catch that you’re just trying to get his brother alone. It’s shocking actually, but you’re not gonna question it. Maybe the idea of you and Sam fucking in a church is a little too salatious, even for Dean. He pretends to be the sex-crazed one, but you’re almost certain he’s pretty vanilla.

Not Sam though. Sam is a goddamn freak. Literally.

So Dean leaves, but then Sam, to your utmost disappointment, actually starts searching the fucking church for clues. That’s okay. You’ll get him where you need him.

You watch Sam as he moves, all the way on the other side of the church. He’s got that intense look on him, the one where his lips are pressed together, his forehead knotted. You stop where you are, two rows of pews between you and him. Take a careful look around to make sure there really is no one else there. Then your hands go to your knees before travelling under your dress and quickly pulling down your panties. You push them into your handbag, then put the bag on one of the seats. You also take off the cardigan you were wearing over your summer dress to cover your shoulders, lay it next to the bag. Clear your throat.

“Sam, I think I found something,” you say and his head snaps up, eyes searching you out. You nod at the ground. “Some kind of weird inscription. Looks like it was scratched in recently.”

And Sam, sweet lamb, he thinks you really found something, walks over to you with long strides, expression attentive. 

He looks at the ground before you and you can immediately tell he doesn’t see the made-up scratches, but is too polite to say it. He stops at arm’s length from you, head bent down.

“I don’t see it,” he says and you point at the ground. 

“That’s cause you’re all the way up there, giant man,” you say and Sam huffs and then lowers himself, drops into a squat.

You step forward before he can tell you again that he doesn’t see anything. You gently lay your hand on the back of his head and then you’re pressing his face against your crotch.

Sam’s hands shoot to your thighs and for a second you wonder if he’ll push you away. Sam has a hard time initiating stuff, but when you do, he’s like a switch that’s flicked. 

His hands wander up, quickly, under your dress, up the back of your thighs, roughened, tough hands against the milky softness of your skin there before his big paws find your ass cheeks, squeeze them hard and then pull you harder against his face.

He takes a deep breath, so deep and lustful that it makes your eyelids flutter, and you make a fist of his hair at the back of his head, pull it without pulling him away, while Sam keeps massaging your ass. 

You can feel the tip of his strong nose pressed against your softest parts, the thin fabric of your summer dress still separating you, but not by much. Sam’s shoulders rise again as he takes another deep breath. He must smell your wetness, the earthy musk. The one that's all for him.

He pulls back his head a little, lets go of your ass cheeks, but only to grab the hem of your dress, push it up. His eyes are on your pussy, and he groans when he sees you're not wearing any underwear. He tilts his head up, chest rising and falling slowly while his strong fingers press into your skin.

“For me?” he asks, voice husky and you feel a messy grin sneak onto your face.

“Always for you,” you say with a smile that you’re only pretending is coy. Sam narrows his eyes up at you.

“Is it a… priest thing?” he asks, just slightly tilting his head. You shrug, all innocence.

“It’s mostly a you thing,” you reply, then bite your lip, drawing Sam’s gaze there. “But the priest thing isn’t hurting.”

You see the small tug at the corner of Sam’s beautiful mouth, the slight raising of his chin, the same one he does when he discovers something interesting in a book, but also the one you’ve learned to spot when he’s thinking up something nice for you.

With your dress still bunched up in his fists, Sam pulls you in. 

His mouth lands high on your thigh, warm breath fanning over the skin before determined lips press against it. You feel another gush of wetness join what is already there as you scratch your fingernails down the back of Sam’s head, eliciting a low groan from him, but then he detaches from you, looks up at you. 

“Sam,” you breathe, “don’t stop.” But he just raises his eyebrows a little.

“Sam?” he asks. You need to swallow, almost painful arousal shooting through your core, a tight fist of need.

“Father,” you say instead and Sam nods slowly.

“Keep your hands by your side,” he says, voice low, but you’d think he shouted with him quickly your hands leave his head and drop to your side. One side of Sam’s mouth twitches into a half-smile.

“Good girl,” he says and then lowers his head again.

Your eyes nearly roll up and a needy whimper leaves you at the mix of his words plus the feeling of his open mouth pressed just to the side of your pussy. He’s kissing you, strong lips and wet, hot tongue darting out, like he would kiss your mouth, but he’s keeping an inch of distance from your clit, taking his time as his mouth makes you wetter than you were before.

His stubbled cheek brushes against your lips and it feels like a hundred volts pumped into you, only that little touch making your breathing come out chopped, your hands form into fists to keep them where he told you to keep them. You can feel your wetness start to travel onto the inside of your thighs, desperate and waiting for any relief, and at the same time sure that direct contact will kill you on the spot.

Sam’s tongue and lips are still exploring you, taking his sweet time, and if you had the wherewithal to look down, you’d see his eyes are closed in reverence as he is lost to the taste of your skin, the warmth of it. 

“Please,” you mutter, the word leaving you without intention, just the single thing your brain can still come up with. But if anything it makes things worse, because he pulls his head back and looks at you again.

You must be a pretty sight - cheeks flushed, eyes closed, brow knotted, hands tight fists at your side. Sam squeezes your thigh where one of his hands is holding it, and you manage to blink your eyes open, look down at him.

“What do you want?” he asks, his voice stern and challenging. You lick your lips, try to calm your breathing, concentrate on what you’re saying.

“Your cock, Father,” you breathe out and you can see the effect it has on him, the tensing of his beautiful features.

Sam lets go of you, presses himself up to stand. He briefly sways, his hands already going to the fly of his pants, his large, imposing body so close to you you can feel his body heat radiating off him.

“Oh yeah?” he says, his own breathing heavy as you hear the clink of his belt buckle. “Down your throat or in your cunt?”

You press yourself closer to Sam, his words nearly making you dizzy, but not as dizzy as the need between your legs. Still, there is nothing better than seeing Sam lose it like this, watch all his self-control and strength come apart.

“My mouth,” you reply, voice breathless, and you’re almost certain Sam didn’t expect that, because he looks away from where he’s opened his pants, at your face, eyes going wider for a second, before his hand shoots to your neck.

He pulls you up towards him so hard you feel the stretch in your neck and calves as you try to meet him as much as possible. Sam’s kiss is hard, all lips and teeth and uncoordinated as he pants into your mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts, “you’re gonna drive me crazy.” You just have time to grin against him before you drop down again and then go lower, your hands wandering down his body. 

Your knees meet the cool stone floor as you keep looking up at Sam’s face. He looks even more hulking from down here, miles and miles of long, lean limbs, making you feel tiny. Since you no longer need to hold on to him, your hands go to his opened fly, one diving in and taking him out.

You can’t help the moan that leaves you at the sight of him, thick and quickly hardening. Since you don’t have the self-control Sam has, you lean forward immediately, lips wrapping around his head, gently suckling.

A long, deep groan leaves him, making your eyelids flutter. Two things you were more than happy to learn about Sam once you started hooking up: he’s well-endowed, fitting his large frame, and he’s vocal.  

Popping your lips off him, you stick out your tongue, begin running it along Sam’s length, the soft skin of him kissing your cheek and lips, spreading your saliva over your chin. His hand wanders to the base of your neck, long fingers tangling in your hair there and gripping it hard, whether to encourage you or control your onslaught impossible to say.

You go back to the head of his cock, suck it into your mouth as you hollow out your cheeks, before taking in more of him. Sam grunts again, his hips slightly rocking forward before he controls himself.

“Touch yourself,” he breathes out and it takes a moment for the words to seep into your cockdrunk head. Your eyes open, just for a moment, and then your hand drops between your legs and you begin petting yourself.

You’re careful with how sensitive you are, your thighs slightly twitching. You’re uncoordinated, blind with lust, can’t settle on a rhythm, on a spot. Your middle and ring finger dip into you, their entry easy with how wet you are, but they feel all wrong, they’re not bringing you any relief, only more need, more want.

The sound you make around Sam’s cock must betray your frustration, because with his grip in your hair, he pulls you back, tilting your head so you look at him. There’s spit all over your mouth and your eyes must be misty as you open them, your chest rising and falling quickly. Sam’s raised eyebrows ask a question without words.

“Can’t reach where you reach,” you press out, unable to form a full sentence. “Doesn’t feel as good as you.”

Sam’s upper lip pulls up and then suddenly the hand at the back of your neck is gone, only for it to wrap around your upper arm like a vise.

Sam pulls you to your feet and then forward, and you nearly go tumbling with your needy lack of coordination. But he’s there to hold you up, and when you see where he is dragging you, renewed arousal makes your knees buckle. 

Your front meets the altar at the head of the church, not too hard, but hard enough that your hands go out to steady yourself. Not that you could go anywhere, not with how close Sam crowds in behind you. One of his hands flies to your front, under your breasts, running over the fabric of your dress, blindly searching but only touching, only taking you in, while his other pulls up your dress again.

“You need my help to go deep?” he pants and you nod, before Sam’s other hand pushes against your back, making you lean forward until your cheek meets the surface of the altar, cold marble burning against your hot skin. “Need me to show you the depth of His love? Of mine? Hold up your dress.”

Your hands go to your hip, bunching up your dress and how exposed it makes you to Sam sends an intense shudder through you. His hand wanders higher, to rest between your shoulder blades, keeping you down and in place where you belong, while his other moves behind you.

It’s his finger that enters you, though, not his cock, and despite that being a significant improvement, you still mewl in disappointment.

“No, need more,” you moan, your voice cracked and broken. “Need your cock, Father, please.”

Sam huffs as he slightly twists his finger inside you, making you feel how deep his long digit is going as he explores your inner walls.

“Don’t be greedy,” Sam answers, his finger only blurring the edges of your need. “You’ll get what I give you.”

You flex your fists, bite your lip, then clench your pussy in the hope of feeling more of him, but Sam is taking his time, until he finally pulls his finger most of the way out of you, and pushes in again with two.

You turn your head, your forehead pressed against the surface below you, as a long drawn-out moan leaves you. The urge to rock your hips back is overwhelming, but you’re too worried that Sam will take the game to the next level, will withdraw to teach you a lesson. Still, it’s almost impossible not to.

“You need to be opened up,” you hear his low voice, the sound of it making you feel like a feral animal. “Be a receptacle for the Lord.”

You have something brewing in your brain and on your tongue about what you’d much rather be a receptacle for, when suddenly you hear voices.

Your eyes fly open and Sam’s fingers stop moving. You’re pretty sure the voices are coming from the vestibule, the door luckily closed. The volume of the voices remains the same and it sounds like they’ve stopped outside, but still. They could walk in any minute.

Sam pulls his fingers from you, and you’re getting ready to push down your dress, mentally already flattening your hair, calming your breathing, even though you know there is no way someone could walk in now and not know what you have been doing. But that’s not what happens.

You feel the pressure of it against your entrance, and for a second, you are struck dumb by what is happening, and then Sam’s cockhead penetrates your folds, slipping into you and you know.

The sound that leaves you is accidental and animalistic, the surprise and stretch making you feel like you’re losing your mind. One hand lets go of your dress and shoots forward until your hand is resting just below you, and you lean down, sink your teeth into the skin on the back of your hand to stop any other sounds from leaving you.

It’s a good thing, because Sam presses deeper, your whimpers muffled against your flesh, eyes squeezed shut. He’s breathing hard, but low, his fingertips squeezing you where he’s holding on to you.

“Can you be quiet?” he half whispers and you’re honestly not sure you can. But the alternative is having him pull out, and that is not an option, so you quickly nod. Sam must see your head move because he presses deeper.

The voices are still there but either retreating or just difficult to hear with the sound of blood rushing in your ears. You can feel Sam disappearing into you, know that the sight of it is like a magic trick being performed, how much of him fits inside of you. It’s why you love being able to see how he fucks you. But right now, you can only feel.

Sam bottoms out, his pelvis pressing against your ass as if he’s hoping to bury even more of himself inside of you, but there's no room, no more room anywhere in you with how absolutely he fills you. You concentrate on your breathing, in through your nose, out through your mouth, but already you can feel your own desperate clenching around him, your body looking for friction, release, anything.

And then Sam pulls out and you can’t help but arch your back, needing to feel as much of him as possible. The pull in your back muscles is almost painful, but it’s a wonderful accoutrement to the drag of Sam’s cock. He pushes in again before he’s fully left you.

Your clit is screaming for attention, your body is screaming to come and you want nothing more than to grab all parts of Sam, inhale him, suck on his skin, but all you can do is lie there and take what he is giving you. His thickness rubs along your most sensitive spots, begging for more stimulation, but you get what you get.

Sam pulls out and pushes in a few more times, and then you’re finally sure the voices are retreating. Your body relaxes somewhat and Sam lets out a long, tense breath. His hand on your back finds your shoulder, squeezes it.

“Oh God,” you whimper, finally daring to make a sound again and his hand moves again, wraps around your face, fingers pressed against your lips.

“Never heard that thing about using the Lord’s name in vain?” he asks, voice shaking a little, but you can barely hear him, instead press your tongue against his fingers, then suck two of them into your mouth. Sam groans roughly, his next push into you harder, less controlled.

“Fuck,” he grunts and then pulls his fingers from your mouth and his cock from your pussy. You whine, but only until his hands grab your hips, turn you around.

He is a sight to behold, when you turn around and face him. He looks like the Almighty himself, wrathful and powerful and beautiful. He leans his head down, presses his forehead against yours and you press back, desperate to touch him.

“Need to taste you,” he says, and you moan at his words. “And then I need to really fuck you.”

With that, he leans down a little, his arms going around your waist, yours around his shoulders, and then Sam lifts you up onto the altar. He pushes you back, bullies you into position until you are lying down. Roughly hoists up your dress again.

This time there is no preamble, no playing around. Sam goes for your clit, sucks it into his mouth and your body bucks up at the sudden assault, loud whimpers bursting from your mouth. He lets go of your clit, then drags his tongue along your entrance, swirling as if he’s tasting ambrosia, before running it up and going for your clit again. He must be tasting so much of you, plus his own pre-come, and momentarily you’re jealous that he gets to savor the cocktail of both of your essences mixed, and you don’t.

You want to grab his head, press him against you, but you remember his words from earlier. Keep your hands by your side. Maybe he still wants you to do the same. So instead, you extend your arms to both sides, hoping that keeping your hands as far away from him as possible will do the trick.

You raise your legs though, and Sam uses his big hands to press them up against your torso, slings his arms over them to keep you in place. The last glimpse of him that you see is him staring down at your pussy, his own lips parted, heavily panting.

Sam dives in, licking and sucking and even nipping at you when he can’t control himself. He’s pressing his face so hard against you you’d be worried how he’s still breathing, if you had a single coherent thought left in your brain. You feel his thick nose crush against you, the press of it making the muscles in your stomach contract.

You can only lie there, eyes closed, lips parted, needy, desperate and pathetic noises leaving you. A high whimper when Sam sucks on your clit hard, making your lower body buck, half to meet him, half to get away from him, but Sam keeps you in place. There’s no way for you to move.

You feel your orgasm approaching rapidly and for a moment, you let your eyes flutter open, the darkness of your eyelids making you feel almost too much. You look up, at the vaulted ceiling, the rich, gold decorations and then, as you press your head back, your shoulders twisting up, pushing yourself down to feel more of Sam, your body making the choice for you, you see Him.

His arms are stretched away from his body in a mirror position of you. Long, dark hair, on his head and shorter on his face, a lean but muscular body. His face filled with such deep longing. Just like yours must be.

You burst into your orgasm, fingers desperately trying to hold on to something, body bucking up as Sam keeps tongue-fucking you roughly, and you are filled with so much light and heat you think you’re about to implode. Your cries are high and loud. Someone walking in wouldn’t know if you’re in pain or ecstasy. 

As your body stops its shaking Sam gives your clit another quick suck, making you gasp and flinch. He lets go of you and you drop your legs, then close them, roll onto your side. You’re painting and shivering.

You feel Sam’s hand low on your spine and you turn your head when you feel him lean over you, meet his lips. His kisses are frenzied and you can taste the sweet tang of your pussy on his lips and tongue.

You shuffle, bring one leg under him and then to his other side, Sam now between your thighs and his lips twitch, a sinful smile on them, before he grabs your hips and with one hard tug pulls you closer to the edge of the altar, closer to him. He straightens a little, positions himself to penetrate you again and you raise yourself on your elbows, chase his jaw with your lips.

“Make me good, Father,” you pant, licking at him, only getting the dimple in his chin. “Fuck your goodness into me.”

Sam pushes one of your legs open, then looks at your face as he presses his cock into you. Your eyelids flutter as you’re tossed between the shores of feeling too much and already feeling like you could come again. He leans over you, his hair falling into his face, and sinks home.

You kiss him again as Sam starts fucking you, deep, intense thrusts that immediately respark the flames of your arousal. One of the straps of your dress has fallen off your shoulder, and Sam hooks his finger into the fabric, pulls it down, revealing your breast to him. You move your leg higher on his side and in response, Sam hooks it over his elbow. He drops his head, finds your nipple and runs his tongue over it, then sucks it into his mouth and gives it a gentle bite. You moan loudly, grab his biceps to have something to hold on to as Sam begins snapping his hips against you.

The stretch of Sam’s thick cock is rooting you perfectly in the moment, your body rejoicing at the intense intrusion. He’s breathing hard now, low grunts leaving him as your pussy drags pleasure from him, your lips meet his cheek and lips, your fingernails dig into his arms. He’s got you under him, strung like a taut wire, but it’s his groans that are becoming more intense, more uncontrolled. 

“You want me to make you full?” he asks, voice deep and cracked, so raw you feel it in the tips of your fingers and down to your toes. “Make you full of His love?”

“Yes,” you moan. “Make me so full, so full it runs out over your big cock.” Sam groans, picks up his speed.

“Come with me,” he pants. “I want you to.” You’re pretty sure you nod, but you can’t be fully certain. What you do know is that you bring one hand away from Sam’s arm to between your legs, to where Sam is opening you up so perfectly. It’s all wet and warm there, and you begin petting yourself.

“You’re gonna come on my cock?” he asks, his voice becoming strained.

“Yes,” you breathe, barely able to make any sounds anymore.

 “You’re gonna let me ruin you?” he asks, interrupts himself with a loud moan.

"Yes," you gasp, your orgasm within reach, so close you can taste.

“Gonna let me make you a sinner?” Sam asks, voice raw and forced.

You open your mouth to answer, but it’s too late - the feeling too intense, too overwhelming, as a high whine leaves you to accompany your second orgasm.

Sam grunts loudly, maybe at how tightly you’re squeezing him, how eagerly your walls are pressing against him, trying to keep him there, sucking him in, and in the next second, just as you barely manage to open your eyes, he comes too.

His shoulders are heaving, his eyes squeezed shut, the most sinful, perfect moans leaving him. He presses his open mouth against your jaw as he keeps grinding into you to fuck his come deeper into you.

Sam goes slack over you, his big body untensing, his broad chest expanding against you on every breath. His face is still pressed against your neck and you run your hands from his arms to his back, stroking him, just needing to keep touching him.

You both lie there as your breathing slows and ultimately syncs, as you both come back to yourselves and each other.

“What the fuck? ” he mumbles against you, sounding very much like himself again. All you can reply with is a fucked-out chuckle.

“I think I skipped Sunday school when we covered this part,” you say, your fingers running into his hair, twirling one strand between your fingers. “I only remember the part about the good Samaritan.” And Sam doesn’t react, just keeps breathing delicious warm breath against you, so you poke his shoulder.

“Get it?” you say. “Sam-aritan?”

Sam’s shoulders begin shaking, and then he presses himself up, the breath and the press of his nose against you disappearing, but at least you’re rewarded with seeing his face. He looks down at you, expression amused and critical at the same time. The way you know him.

“You just got me to fuck you in a church,” he deadpans, “and now you’re making bible puns?” You shrug.

“I contain multitudes,” you reply. Sam raises his eyebrows.

“That’s Walt Whitman,” he corrects you. You press your lips together.

“It’s a good think you’re handsome and fuck like a god,” you reply, “because you’re a goddamn smartass.” Sam chuckles, making your heart bloom with warmth, and then he pushes himself up.

"Language," he says, but there's little authority in it now.

Once he’s standing, he slowly pulls himself out of you before helping you sit up. He wraps one arm around you to help you drop off the altar, and you can’t resist getting both your hands on him to steady yourself. And as if you’re not swooning enough already, Sam’s hand goes up, runs over your hair where it must be messy from how hard he fucked you.

You both flinch when you hear the creak of the door and then you turn, and there’s Mrs. and Mr. Johnson walking in. You drop your hands off Sam quickly, forcing a polite smile, while Sam clears his throat, crosses his hands in front of his body.

There’s a short moment where the four of you just stare at each other, no one saying anything. You blink repeatedly and hope no one notices your shifting around when you suddenly feel Sam’s come begin to run out of you.

“There’s a…” Mrs. Johnson starts, pointing over her shoulder at the door leading to the outside. “We were… looking for you…” You nod, widen your smile.

“Father and I were just…” you start and then you realize you have no idea where you meant for that sentence to go.

“Praying,” Sam quickly adds. “We were praying.”

“How… nice,” Mrs. Johnson says, and her husband nods along.

“But now we’re gonna go outside,” you say, and then you quickly cross the distance to the bench where you left your things, strategically holding the cardigan in front of you. Sam is right behind you, throwing the older couple another friendly smile. The two just continue staring. 

Sam presses his hand against the small of your back to get you moving, and then you’re both hustling it out of the church. However you can’t stop yourself from grabbing his hand once you’re out of sight, just as you’re about to walk out of the church into the sunlight. 

You squeeze Sam’s hand and he squeezes back, and when you look up at him, you see his dimpled grin, barely contained.

Maybe you should consider going to confession this week, you think, as you try to hide your own grin.

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Surfacing

"Power dynamics, they're fluid."

Session 1 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Routine patient visit and care performed. Patient is stable, mostly corporative, and only mildly rowdy today. Vitals are clear, appetite is normal, nothing of interest to report other than slightly abnormal behavior resulting in the [REDACTED] incident, pending Nurse deliberation on how to proceed with patient disciplinary action. 📋 Length of Session (w.c): 5.2k out of "we will cross that bridge when we get to it ����" 💊Intake Chart (tags): this is a full-blown AU with a slowww build-up, yandere-ish behavior, pet names, angst, compulsive flirter Gojo (he literally cannot help it), mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️doctor's angel’s note: there’s something very, very special about how this story was born. extended author’s note at the end of this chapter if you’re curious|kk I'm done talking - enjoy Satoru’s Psyche. 🎼 Waiting room music: Child's Play|SZA

They all worshipped the strongest. 

But no one saw the man; no one noticed the cracks until it was too late.

The first appeared after the Star Plasma Vessel mission—Gojo's near-death experience and first awakening. 

Then, it was his best friend, Suguru Geto. His betrayal, death. Murder. 

The blood on Gojo's hands left such a deep mark.

Devastation. Irreparable damage.

No matter what Gojo did after that, death followed him like a loyal dog. 

And when the final crack happened in the Prison Realm, with no distraction from his own thoughts and burdens and painstakingly harsh reality, Satoru Gojo bent..then snapped.

He can't remember what happened after being unsealed. 

All he knew was the blood that came afterward.

Apparently, he went on a rampage, but in his psyche, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

And he didn't feel guilt—not in the slightest. 

They must have gotten what they deserved, right? 

The thoughts were deafening.

But Gojo’s natural tendency to play the hero was even louder and got the best of him. The realization of what he’d done was haunting—plaguing and persuading him like a Devil in his ear until he turned himself in to shut the voices the fuck up. 

Once again, good ruled over evil and the world was safe.

In Gojo's own sick and twisted way, he had once more saved the day.

And as a thank you? He's here, in a fucking straitjacket, seals all around to make his cursed energy dormant. At least, that's what those old fools believe…

Gojo can't help but scoff, recalling all their nonsense. 

“You're unstable. The mind needs to be healed.”

Blah fucking blah. What a load of bullshit. 

However, society never took too kindly to a little mass murder, so fine.

Gojo will play nice... for now.

And for the most unexpected reason why.

His grin only deepens, a borderline predatory look as he hears those familiar footsteps. 

Ah...how wonderful.

“There you are.”

The man waits by the door, shoulder framing your entrance and leaning on the wall. Welcoming, warm and expectantly, before the locks can disengage. 

Like many times before, your eyes meet through the window pane. A dull blue under snowy white lashes, heavy and following yours, but barely piercing the plastic—small and artificial—only a thin layer of careful separation, but you both see right through it. Neutrality on your face but wavering sharpness in your eyes. And a glint in his as the familiar buzz! ushers you into his world.

“How’s my favorite nurse?” he asks like a broken record. All casual-like, as if his arms aren’t meticulously tucked into tight restraints that work hard against his muscled frame. “Missed your favorite psychopath?”

He couldn’t sound more arrogant, but still has to smirk watching you brush past him—expecting nothing less—but feels a different air.

There’s a pep in your step, carrying you into the stark white room and making it impossible to miss the subtle sway of your hips and dangling supply bag on your arm. Naturally fluid as if you’re oblivious to its sensual nature.

Gojo rarely saw you wear any emotion on your sleeve, let alone what he thought was hints of joy, but something was slipping through the cracks.  

And what’s that? A slight grin on your face? 

What exactly do we have here?

This attitude is foreign. Better than the blank slate or frequent exhaustion you usually walk in with, but this was a side of you that was unfamiliar. 

What’s got you in such a mood, he wonders? And what else could it be, if not him? 

It’s all because today is an “okay day”. And in places like your ward, “okay” is as good as gold.

Rounds have been fairly simple in the usually chaotic hospital—a small win if you put things in perspective, but it’s enough for you to feel good about it. 

Hell, with the way things usually go around here, it feels like Christmas came early and you got just what you wanted. 

A big, whopping present called “all of your co-workers showing up to work”. The standard for most workplaces but here, such miracles only exist in your daydreams to get through your usually fucked schedule.

But not today. Today, the angels personally visited your ward to carry your burdens and lighten your load. For the first time in months, you didn’t groan the second you saw your patient roster for the day and instead had to do a doubletake because the list was surprisingly short. Only your regulars sat on it and that could only happen if the ward was fully-staffed.

You thought it was a mistake when you checked the schedule this morning, but no, everyone’s name sat prettily on the sign-in sheet at the front desk—a sight you hadn’t seen since orientation and was confirmed with every familiar and slightly foreign face you passed in the halls. 

There were no call-outs, no extra work, and the best part, no unexpected shift changes. 

Overtime would not get its hands on you today and the thought alone made you feel lighter because enough time is spent in these melancholy walls as is. 

With thoughts on the week’s end, you found yourself drifting through the day on autopilot. Wondering if you should make plans—doubtful you’ll see them through—and time seemed to be flying by with your thoughts. Following the rarely-seen routine you know like the back of your hand helped you blaze through the morning and grow closer to sweet rest for your already aching feet. 

Miracles were coming in left and right, proof that today just might be your day. It’s still early, but no one had broken out of their room or flung any property around yet. Guards sit comfy and reclined at their posts, lounging around more than they’re being called, and you haven’t even had to run off to the lockers to change your scrubs that are usually ruined by now. Luck is keeping you high and dry—free from accidents or patient tantrums, both of which are all too common. And always seem to have your name on them.

But the cherry on top, second to none, pièce de résistance.

Is a possibility.

Just the teeniest, tiniest, sliver of a chance…to walk out of these doors early. 

Be still your beating heart.

Early release?? Unheard of. You almost skipped through the halls thinking about it. Dreaming of the reclaimed time—the deliciously healthy heap of rest. 

With no signs of trouble, aside from forcing yourself to chug a wildly unhealthy energy drink to fight off tendrils of sleep, you just may be in the clear.

Things seem steady in the sleepy ward today. So sure, you’re in a relatively good mood. 

But is it good enough to deal with Gojo? 

It puzzles you, how he always knows you’re coming before he sees you. How he sort of announces your presence before you get the chance. Like the honor belongs to him.

The psychopath. 

Your head tilts at the diagnosis, hearing it come from his lips for the first time. Even if unseriously. 

He’s self-aware, at least. Not that the confession makes your visits any easier. 

Over time, after working so closely with a personality like Gojo’s, you’ve learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt. Especially when it comes from such shameless lips.

Answering his question with an eye-roll, you set your supplies down to pull out your clipboard and check his vitals. Something that once upon a time made your palms sweat and throat dry, but never showed on your face. You knew what the role required, what it would need for you to survive—intimidation and cowardice were not a part of it—and eventually, after you banged that into your head enough, even if you had to fake it til you made it, you became used to the routine.

As has Gojo, complying with each step on the checklist like it was second nature. Walking over to his favorite spot to be taken care of, the bed. Lifting his tongue to take his temperature. Offering his arm to check his blood pressure. Noting that his eyes aren’t bad today—not needing to wear his blindfold due to the security system. Doing it all without needing you to say a word. All within his control.

But the one thing he can’t get a grip on is how his heart begins to beat. Every time like clockwork the moment you lay a hand on his back to listen to it. Racing in his chest—thumping through your stethoscope—while he wears the calmest face. 

Curiosity called you after noticing it a few times once you determined it wasn’t a condition. Guaranteed to start up with the gentlest touch that he was surely used to. 

So, what exactly goes on in his mind in these moments? Despite hiding it so well? 

What could possibly be making Tokyo’s most unhinged, mass-murderer, so flustered? 

You never have much time to think about it because it won’t matter in the next few seconds anyway. Sitting still enough to get through vitals was as serious as Gojo gets, making the quickest part of your visits with him the easiest. 

Everything that follows the second you put your kit away is pure…surprise. 

“So…are you gonna undo the straps this time, sweet nurse? My arms are sore.”

He pouts. Sweetly. So devilishly charming. As he did so often with a flash of those cerulean, blue eyes that could make and break hearts.

You sigh. One could almost forget that by society’s standards, he’s a “dangerously unstable individual.” 

Something you’re acutely aware of. And trained for. Which is why you don’t mind the coquettish jabs he throws your way—and why he keeps on throwing them.

You aren’t aware but these hourly visits, along with his agreement to stay put, are the only reasons why he’s still here despite being Satoru fucking Gojo and simply walking out. It’s not like anyone could stop him if they really wanted to, and he knew that. 

Truth is—it pissed Gojo off, being stuck here. Cooperative. It was fucking irritating, to say the least. 

He’d rather be tortured than bored and might’ve second-guessed his decision to surrender if he knew the punishment would be…this. 

But lo and behold, here you are. Relief in the flesh while he bides his time. One that he wasn’t expecting.

“You sure are possessive today.” You hide a smirk, draping the stethoscope around your neck, his heartbeat returning to normal after losing your touch. “Am I really your favorite?” The leather straps hug his pale skin a bit tightly, but his mobility is good enough to ignore his request to loosen them. That would be suicide. 

He tsks, eyes sparkling at your words—a warning glimmer hidden beneath the icy gaze. 

Chilling. But the least bit surprising. 

Gojo and cattiness go together like love and war—and he wears it with his whole chest. 

Even when unprovoked, he’s known for being….testy. Trying his hand again and again until he gets some kind of reaction. Waiting to see what makes someone bite. 

But there was something disingenuous about this petty quirk. The repetition and how it seemed to lack a goal. How he seemed almost…desperate for interaction—attention—any attention.

Eventually, once you sat in his face long enough to learn how to disassociate with a straight face, you figured out that he just loves to hear himself talk. Like that one kid in class who’s always inserted themselves into every conversation and made it about them. 

He rarely gives you a hard time though—less than most of your other patients in fact—and usually sends more kisses than cuts. Occasionally, when you find them…okay, or tolerable enough, you indulge him and this charade between you two—like the high school crush it resembled. Strict. But harmless. 

And you’re only entertaining him now because he’s one of your last patients for the day. A fact not lost on him, but disregarded nonetheless. Even if you were just playing along, he knew there had to be more depth. All the masks in the world couldn’t hide that smile on your face.

His laugh breaks the tension. “I'm a yapper, not a liar...Am I yours?” He raises a brow. “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

His low tone carries an unspoken weight. Cryptic. Eerie. Needy. Almost calling you like a possession more frequently than ever.

It isn’t lost on you that his affections have blossomed as you’ve spent more time together. Visits are supposed to be 10, 15 minutes tops—collect vitals, serve meals, give meds, and avoid accidents. But Gojo? He drinks up your time. Going on 30, sometimes 45 minutes of routine maintenance and “extra care”. This wasn’t standard practice, but they didn’t tell you that, among other things when you accepted the position.

Every time you cross Gojo’s threshold, you’re reminded that you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re just a nurse after all, not a therapist, and lacked the credentials to even begin to handle a patient like Gojo. But in the end, qualifications don’t matter when his staff has a famous history of running away. 

A fate shared by his previous nurse and therapist. Both fell victim to Gojo’s whimsical and relentless personality and suffered a mental breakdown from hell before quitting the ward. Capacity for hospitality completely shot, they nailed the coffin shut by ditching the healthcare industry altogether. 

And that was after only a few hours. 

In the beginning, you had absolutely no faith in yourself. Swore it was a sick joke as you couldn’t begin to fathom why they would even consider you for the job. 

You??

Gojo the Psycho’s nurse? It would’ve been easier to turn in your resignation right then to avoid living in hell.

You wondered how your life would change as you got to know the world’s most hated man. 

How long you would last—if he would let you. 

Anxiety and nausea gnawed at the back of your throat as time grew closer to meeting him. But eventually, after running the scenario in your head a million times over and trying to come up with some sort of plan or plea for your life, the day came, and you stood before the unpredictable man who looked like he saw right through you. 

Just the idea of being in Gojo’s presence is enough to let you know it’ll be unnerving. 

But the moment was…odd. 

Naturally, you wanted rely on book smarts and previous patient experiences to get you through what you knew would be a short and traumatic failed attempt at connection. But then you took a second to really look at Gojo, not study, but a kind of look that catches something…a conflict in his eyes—and instantly knew he was no ordinary patient. 

He was something you’d never met before, and any attempts to use a cookie-cutter facade would quickly be chewed up and spat out. 

So, you went with your gut—hoping to escape with some remnants of your sanity at least. 

Who knew you’d end up surprising not only yourself but also the Director and all the other staff in the ward who watched with held breaths? 

Gojo practically welcomed you with open arms. Flashing his pearly whites and dimples in a closed-eyed smile. You could hear a pin drop.

He didn’t bark, he didn’t bite. Only teased, feeding you sultry words with cunning lips until your face visibly flushed with blush. They didn’t warn you about charm. Debatibly the “worst” part about working with the blue-eyed lady-killer. Or that his devilishly handsome face would make you second-guess his sanity and guilt.

But you knew what this was. Or at least what it wasn’t and quickly put on blinders to every distraction he threw. Holding your breath the whole way through and surprising yourself every time you walked out his room. After your trial period had run for a few days with no mishaps—the opposite, really— you were promoted. And given a big, fat new check (certainly not for collateral). 

You didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or concern.

Congratulations! You were now in charge of Gojo’s physical AND mental health. 

Which meant longer, more thorough visits.

The idea was nerve-racking for weeks, to say the least. And because he has the nerve to be a karate-chopping ‘sorcerer’ or whatever it is that makes the man so dangerous, he needs careful safeguarding. Which means having his very own wing and accommodations in the ward. The only barriers between Gojo and doing whatever the hell he wants is one guard stationed near the entrance and some type of security system they can’t disclose to you. It’s supposed to suppress his abilities or something, you don’t quite understand itself yourself, but most importantly, it keeps him tame.

Still, choosing to grace his space almost daily always feels like tempting a snake. 

But somebody has to do it. 

And in a way, by his own means, offering a satisfied grin and all, Gojo had chosen you. 

Even in the confines of a cell, with seemingly nothing left to live for and no room for emotions, you, this wonder, have managed to catch his eye. In a way that made him want to sink his teeth in and soak up your attention. For reasons you couldn’t be more unsure of. 

“It would break my heart if it weren’t true,” he continues, sitting in the only chair in the room, “You’re my entertainment, you know? My doll to play with.”

You scoff, arms folding. The word doll echos in your ear like a chamber. That was a new one. 

“You sure talk a lot of game for someone in your situation.” 

“I love games.” He leans, eyes drinking in his favorite powdery blue scrubs that hug your frame in an all too professional manner. “Play with me, Nurse.”

Time belonged to Gojo, and he chooses to bide it with a little fun until release—or escape. His ever-changing mind hasn’t decided yet but it was far from a concern. Because the truth of this truce was painfully obvious. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever. And is quick to mention that he’d love to take you with him.

“If you can handle me.” He licks his lip. “Unless I’m too much for you.”

And there it is. That cool smile that sends shivers down spines. Irresistibly stirring your core every time he parts his lips. 

You hated it—no one could deny his charm or his intimidating presence. Even in chains, shackled and restrained, he maintains some kind of control: crumbling walls with his charisma, waving around his amorous, overassertive reputation like a big red flag.

But you’ve already proven to not be like the rest, easily swayed or reduced to puddles. Your wall is firm. Solid. He baits you time and time again—a smile here, a sinful gaze there—only to be met with dismissive yawns. Rousing something inside of him that deemed you a challenge. Something worth exploring. You were…difficult.

You’re the one who laughed this time, shaking your head and tucking a hair behind your ear. He oozes confidence from every fiber of his being—and bores you.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like to lunch today or just keep bothering me?” 

And goddammit he has the audacity to grin. To tuck his lip under his teeth slow enough to make you catch it. 

Your insolence is adorable, yet maddening; a cocktail he drinks with delight before realizing how much he loves the taste. 

You were becoming really good at it, beating up his ego and turning a blind eye to his silly little flirts, but interest never faded from his gaze no matter how careless you seemed. Or were trying to. 

He tsks. “C’mon, Nurse. If I can’t have fun here, where can I? Besides,” Sunlight streams in from his barred window as if on cue. “You’re the only thing here worth talking about.”

Butterflies? Knots? Maybe both fill your stomach.

Neither can be good for you in a situation like this.

The dreamy words whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and stroke your ego with a delicate thumb. Soft and gentle—and from a shell of a man. 

A good turned evil. 

And you don’t have to look too far to remember how he got here—to remember why the enchanting man before you is dressed in heavy white restraints and public enemy number one. 

Guilt tugs at you for even joking around with him sometimes. You picture his victims. The lives forever changed. And how he didn’t seem sorry for it. 

Besides, even if Gojo wasn’t a basket-case, it’s hard to look past how childish he is anyway—something you heard has always been a part of him. Something you couldn’t imagine dealing with for too long, even casually. It certainly wasn’t your taste, and under different circumstances, you’d no sooner fall for him outside of these walls than you would now.

But above all of the boundaries, restrictions, and pep-talks you give yourself, is the simple fact that you aren’t the day-one nurse he once knew. Now, you have a backbone and don’t hesitate to remind him.

“You’re such a flirt, Patient Gojo.” You make sure to catch his eye when you say it, “But compliments only get you so far.”

Patient. 

It hangs in the air. Brisk and stale. A bit sour on the tip of your tongue. And acid in his ears.

With that, Gojo sits back, resting his cheek on a propped-up arm, gaze long and longing. Breathing slow as he thinks and nerves buzz between you two. Then his request comes, simple and direct.

“How about sushi? Raw and fresh.” And a psych ward delicacy.

He’s the only patient in the entire facility with such privilege—envy-worthy and used to his heart’s content. With full-scale unlimited access to all the gourmet treats and fine dining he could ever want, his meals are often better than the ones you bring to work. Gojo is above common hospital dishes, of course, and his indulgent appetite would accept nothing less. 

But it wasn’t just about the food, no, negotiating that was too easy and barely worth mentioning.

This is a conveniently constant reminder that he is still capable of influencing things and making decisions with ease, from those he’s allowed to have access to him, down to his choice of meal.

It intrigues you. How he subdues himself to the masses but finds meaning in smaller wins. What he finds significant.

But none of that mattered right now, you’d finally been given an order and another win, even if it felt like pulling teeth. For now, it’s time to feed him and let him believe whatever he wants.

You pick up his tray from this morning, scanning the room to make sure no cutlery or dishes are missing. “Sushi it is,” you wink and call to be let out.

None of his staff are allowed the room key as a preventative measure to keep his chances of escaping to a minimum. As if a door would stop him but a key does exist and you’ve only seen it on the day the Director introduced you two, and it looked nothing like the keys used for other rooms. 

When you come back with lunch, Gojo grows curious. Noticing how your body has relaxed over time, getting used to his presence every time you come in. Little nuisances like how you breathe a little easier in his space and sometimes smile with your eyes when he tells a stupid joke. The air is…changing. He wonders just how comfortable have you gotten?

“Finally back? I started to miss you.” It’s light but he can’t possibly resist testing the waters. “Would you like to eat with me, pet?” And it takes everything in you to suppress a visceral reaction.

He’s on a roll with the names today and you wonder what his affections might have been like in his life before. Sure, he’s a talker and a flirt, that much is obvious, but you wonder what his actual love was like? How did he show it if he ever got to? And if so, if he ever left anybody behind?

“You know the procedure, Gojo.” You wait with the tray in hand, brushing the thoughts away. Though the temptation savor what you knew would be premium cuisine begs you to do it, you know better than to start breaking boundaries now.

He deflates, brows furrowing. “Is it…really so necessary?” He knows the answer, of course.

You gesture for him to turn around but he holds your gaze, having a little stare down like he enjoys the silent confrontation. You raise an annoyed brow. “The food’s getting cold,” and tap the tray.

“It’s sushi.”

 You huff.

He smirks before finally facing the wall, stilling his body in the tight jacket. When you’re sure he won't move, you set his food to the side and slowly approach to attach him to the latch on the wall. 

Skilled fingers reach across his waist and you have to crouch a little to glide the heavy chain towards the loop at his hip. His skin flushes at your warmth, your proximity, as he can’t help but enjoy the intimacy of the routine power shift. Even if it was a sham, it was still one he reluctantly agreed to. To play nice. To be weak. 

But this exchange, giving himself over to your authority, was oddly invigorating—like placing himself in his victim’s shoes to get a minuscule taste of his own medicine.

“Well, don’t look so happy about it,” he chuckles. Relief finds your face as you gently tug on the chain to make sure it’s secure, amusing the man towering over you.

The thoroughness is cute, all a part of a job well done and strict boundaries that drive a heavy wedge between you two. But it doesn’t bother Gojo. Because he’s certain, he knows, that your guarded walls will crumble sooner than later. All it takes is patience.

“Remember, Nurse,” he doesn’t turn around, “Power dynamics….they’re fluid.” 

And you can almost hear the wink—the implied warning living on his slick tongue that pokes and prods with every interaction and sends heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“You have a way with words, Gojo.” Again your eyes roll as you reach for the key to his restraints. The shackles fall to the ground, shrilling in the mostly empty room to allow him to feed himself.

A mix of groans and relief escapes his lips as he relishes the freedom from the stiff leather. He sighs, “Thank you, Nurse.” and rubs his tender wrists before abruptly filling your space. Nearly knocking you off your feet, but stopping just shy of your face. The monstrous chains strain against the wall, playing tug of war with the beast of a man and the florescent lights cast a spotlight on the sudden distance between you two. 

You had never been this close. 

“But don’t forget, I can turn these roles around. Anytime.”

Twinkles play in his eyes, dazzling you with a shine so bright you can see your reflection. But you also see the unhinged nature behind them just as easily as he sees the quiver of your lip feeling his breath graze the curve of your neck and raise goosebumps on your skin.

This isn’t just idle banter. It’s a stark reminder of Gojo’s capabilities that you had grown comfortable enough to forget. That you thought maybe you had become the exception to. 

As he steps back and leans against the wall he could’ve torn down, there’s an unmistakable silence filling with tension. Hot and sharp like pins and needles. But instead of pushing you to run for the hills, to quit while you’re ahead and savor what’s left of the life you know, for once, your unrelenting mind dares to wonder where this twisted ballet will go.  

It kills you to admit that their is something interesting about cat-and-mouse game he thinks you’re playing. Just as his affections have grown, your thoughts push you to imagine what could happen if you were actually…caught..

It’s idiotic, you know. You don’t need a sign telling you not to play with your life.

This is Satoru fucking Gojo, for Godsake. The murderer. The villain. A literal stain on the face of humanity. 

Forget about what he may have been before. You never saw that Gojo, and he’ll never be seen again. 

Your motto has always been that everyone is redeemable—but these types, Gojo’s type, are so beyond saving that it feels more like babysitting than redeeming a mentally unstable murderous toddler who could destroy a city in seconds.

Even for a man who speaks so carelessly, but teases a sugary-sweet tongue, it’s easy to see how and why he ended up here. Life had made him an example.

Proving that too much of a good thing will always spoil.

And as you watch him turn a wink and begin to casually snack on his meal, completely unconcerned with you or your reaction or response, it’s plain to see that his “affections” spare no one. Not even you. 

You clear your throat and steady a breath. With the lightest voice you can muster, you remind him, “Empty threats are the best you can do, patient.” And turn to leave.

“I’ll be back later for your bath. Or maybe send someone else. Since you’re so excitable today.”  

He pauses. “Oh?”

Is that a challenge?

His laugh echoes around the room like something out of a cartoon, fading away just as quickly as it came. He leans back, hair blending into the wall as he licks bits of rice off his thumbs—gaze sharp despite the jest. 

Because the stakes are clear and you’re both aware. 

But in case you don’t know the consequences he asks, “Do I seem threatened to you?” 

You shift your weight. If Gojo is anything, he’s always playful. The man does not have a serious bone in his body, which makes him damn near intolerable sometimes, but it’s something you’re used to it. But not this tone. This tone has rocks in it, hard and heavy as he calls your bluff. 

“Because my threats—,” he continues eating, “—are never empty.” He pops the last roll into his mouth. “You sure you wanna do this?” 

There’s no denying the chill running up your spine at those words—playing out like casual banter over lunch instead of the battle royale it was.

As if the question were rhetorical, he adds, “Okay but like,” and coughs up another laugh, as if finding the entire idea ridiculous. “Who’d be dumb enough to replace you?”

To feed or not to feed? Now was a chance to bail out.

“Don’t worry about that.” And you don’t as you call to the guard, hoping to catch your break on time. “Just behave yourself.” Gojo would keep you here playing 20 questions all day if he could.    

A bemused smile settles on his face and he shakes his head at your antics. 

You were becoming increasingly enjoyable to interact with. And steadily digging yourself into a hole. You’ve been sitting front-row to the darkness within him enough times to be sure it is, in fact, very real, but still it’s impossible to ignore that there’s something driving you to pick up the shovel. 

It isn’t just his pretty face and boyish charm. No.

It’s like he wants to get under your skin. In the best way.

Yeahhhh, this death wish is turning you every way but loose.

It’s silly, so stupid to even think about. Giving Gojo a smidge of an inch just because you feel there may be something more. Like there’s depth to his pretty words and clashing ways. Who's to say any of it is “real” anyway? He is insane after all. 

Your mind and the door shut behind you, and you turn to peer at him through the small window. A mischievous yet bored look rests on his face. 

You think you actually will send someone else. Just to show him what happens when he crosses the line. To reinforce business and boundaries. 

You could also use a break yourself—Gojo is starting to feel… claustrophobic these days and if you aren’t careful who knows what could happen. 

“Choose wisely,” came his voice from within the room,. “Every move you make counts. And cheating has consequences.” Footsteps approach the door. “You may think tagging out is all it takes to avoid our game, but let me tell you something…” He stops. “...you underestimate how quickly I can escape confinement before I’m noticed.”

And suddenly, this isn’t just a game anymore. And Gojo isn’t just some harmless tease.

Your throat is too tight to swallow and you fidget with your lanyard as if responding to his words. 

Of course, he’s capable of breaking free. That’s not what’s worrying. But if it was because of you poking the bear, you trying to get on even ground with him and have the upper hand, would you be responsible if he did?

“No matter where they send you or who they send instead—” And Gojo’s comment makes it crystal clear. 

“—I promise you, you’ll end up right back here.”

extended angel's note: first and foremost, just to give credit where credit is due, this is a chatbot i turned into a short story🧍🏾‍♀️. it was actually my first time dicking around with janitor a.i. back in like...april? and i came across this gojo bot with a suuuuper interesting prompt. [all of the prompt idea and calibration credit goes to the original creator.] i didn’t decide to actually get serious and start creating a story until around the end of part 2 - i realized i was having too much fun and was in too deep 🙇🏾‍♀️. SO after my decision to indulge madness, i didn't want to run up 10000 messages on janitor a.i. and decided to create the rest of the story on my own from there.  everything after the prompt are my own words and i've had to weave every last bit of part 1 and 2 into a coherent story but everything afterwards is all me.

you can find the chatbot and play around with it yourself here but i strongly recomment doing so after finishing this short - think of it as a choose your own adventure afterwards in case you want my head on a stick after the ending 🤠.

tags list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @blkkizzat @kiwismoother @rune1920 @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @startatdawn @heijihatsutori

@inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk @rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping

@sims-4lifers @bratidol @hyunsuks-beanie @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111

@supsiii @natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko

@strawberrymilkshakes-posts @nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow

[altacctforastarion]

So we know how astarion is a vampire and spawn could i request Astarion with a tav and their domestic life and astarion doing weird vampire things sfw maybe nsfw

Sure thing anon! Thank you for requesting!

Warnings: nsfw at the end, 18+ mdni, Cazador fight mentioned, blood drinking, biting

Astarion’s vampiric quirks were well hidden, he didn’t want to scare you off, wanted to bide his time before your group found out he was a vampire, but then he was starving and you were laying there, peaceful and unaware, and he was so, so curious.

When you allowed him to feed on you he grunted against your neck, like an animal consuming meat, and his hands supporting your head had started out gentle, but by the end he was gripping you like a vice, holding you to him as he took enough blood to leave you almost dazed. When he pulled away his red eyes were darker, blown wide and unblinking, going between staring at your bitten pulse point and your eyes, talking to you while seemingly distracted, looking at you like you were a meal waiting to be pounced on and devoured.

He’d blown his cover, and from then on the little quirks started surfacing. He started with the staring, starting the morning after he’d bitten you. You’d woken up and gone about the morning as usual, thanking Gale for the breakfast and sitting down to eat, when you felt eyes on you. Goosebumps raised on your skin, and you looked around until you saw him, sitting on the stool in front of his tent and staring at you with the same expression as the night before. You’d waved as you pushed away your anxiety, and he blinked, only once, before he smiled at you and bid you good morning. When you spoke to him about the night before he didn’t blink once, listening intently while you spoke before telling you you’re lucky he’s not a full vampire. You’d wondered how creepy a full vampire is, if he was like this as a spawn.

Then he started sneaking up on you, unintentionally creeping through camp when he wanted to talk, nearly sending you flying out of your skin. There were numerous times where you turned around and his face was inches from yours, and he barely acknowledged your panic, simply starting a conversation or asking you a question, but you noticed the smirk on his lips the few times you shrieked and jumped before eventually getting used to his antics.

The first time you slept together, he seemed like any other humanoid, breathing, blinking, the works, but the second time he simply stopped breathing, and when you checked on him he said he was simply lost in the moment, seeming embarrassed. You’d told him it was ok, and you got an odd sense of satisfaction when instead of the normal gasps and moans, his throat had clicked and his chest rattled like a purr.

—

When he confessed that he’d manipulated you, and you’d been understanding, if a bit hurt, things changed again. He became protective, growling if someone that wasn’t in your group got too close to you, and got violent or explosive with his anger if someone threatened or insulted you. When you’d asked him about it after he’d lunged at someone who was a little rude, dagger in hand and growl in his throat, he told you that he wouldn’t stand for someone being that way towards you, but under his confidence was a bit of confusion, so you decided not to push.

You also refrain from questioning him when you notice your “lost” clothes in his tent, or when he starts to sit very close to you, nose nuzzling into your neck, sometimes sniffing, sometimes just rubbing against you similar to how a cat would. Asking might mean he’d stop or feel ashamed, and you’d never want that.

—

When you stood in front of Cazador, the vampire had laughed, his eyes on the scars on your neck, “I look forward to tasting your mate, Astarion. They’ll make a good replacement for you after the Black Mass.” and Astarion fucking lost it, going for the kill and nearly striking his former master before becoming part of the ritual. Cazador had targeted you, showing up behind you and trying to grab you as you freed Astarion, but you’d had a vampire creeping up on you for months at this point, and your ears were trained for any little sound. You’d casted sunbeam and freed your partner with urgency, and watched as Astarion took advantage of the weakness you’d exploited.

After defeated Cazador, you returned to Elfsong and helped Astarion bathe, pretending not to notice the clicking of his throat as he cried. When he was clean you offered him space, but he wordlessly led you to your bed, and held you close until he’d calmed down, his face buried in your neck, breathing your scent in deep. When he was calm he took you to his grave, and told you he loved you for the first time before taking his life back on top of the earth above his coffin.

—

Your eyes snap open, sleep has your vision blurry but you look around the dimly lit room anyways, panic bubbling up inside of you as you feel watched. Eyes stare at you, from the foot of your bed, yellow and bright, and it takes you a moment to register what you’re seeing, making out his pale features first, and relaxing as you recognize it’s just Astarion, his knees on the mattress, as if he just started to come into bed with you.

“What are you doing?” Your voice is rough, from your lack of air, and from the sleep you’d been ripped from. He looks down at himself as if he’s surprised at where he is, and you imagine him creeping towards you, stalking you like a cat stalks a mouse without even thinking about his actions.

His throat clicks as he tries to speak, before you hear him inhale, “Watching.” He moves closer to you, crawling up your body until he’s on top of you, his weight distributed so he’s not hurting you, but keeping you from moving. He looks down at you, and you notice that he’s looking at your pulse.

You tilt your head to the side, offering your neck to him, “You could have just asked instead of being terrifying.” You try to sound annoyed but your face is warm, and you curse him mentally for having the audacity to be so attractive while he’s doing something that would have most running for the hills. Your hands go to his chest, not applying pressure, just wanting to touch him.

“I don’t want your blood,” he says, but then corrects himself, “Well, I wouldn’t say no to having your blood, but I only wanted to look at you. You can go back to sleep.”

“Well no, Astarion, I can’t go back to sleep. You were terrifying and now you’re on top of me. How often do you do this?” He moves to get off of you, nodding as though he hadn’t thought his body on top of you might hinder your ability to get back to sleep, but you grasp at his shoulders,keeping him on top of you. You don’t want to sleep now.

“Oh, would you rather do something else?” He smiles down at you, looking innocent, as if he hadn’t just been watching you sleep before pinning you down. You don’t notice your heart beat pick up until his eyes shift to your pulse point, and his smile turns into a dangerous grin, just slightly too wide and his fangs are too visible to keep up the innocent facade. You shift your eyes away from his, Astarion has had you on this bed a hundred times over but it’s hard not to feel embarrassed when he’s looking at you that way.

You feel the bed move just slightly, but his weight is still on top of you, and when you look back his face is so close your noses are an inch from touching, his eyes lighting up when your body jolts, startled, your heart beating impossibly fast. He looks ready to devour you, and you’d let him, but instead he presses a slow kiss to your lips, and his hips roll just slightly, his clothed cock pressing against you, and you moan into his mouth. He pulls away, his face going to your throat and his lips on your pulse, you feel him breathe in deeply, inhaling your scent, and lets out an animalistic groan, “Mine.”

“Yours, Astarion.” Your hands go to his hair and shoulder, and you pull him closer to your neck, urging him to do as he pleases. He licks your neck before he bites it, one wide stripe up, slowly, and then sinks his fangs in you with another groan, his pelvis rutting against you as he takes your blood. You gasp, and his hands go to your upper back and the back of your head, supporting you and keeping you close, his body pressing against you more and the pressure against your ribs hurts just a little, but the pleasure you get from his rutting and the sounds he makes as he feeds makes up for it.

He pulls away when you start to get dizzy, and you chase his bloodied lips, the taste of iron hitting your tongue as he pushes his into your mouth, spreading your legs and putting himself in between them, breaking the kiss for mere seconds in the process before kissing you again with haste, and his hands go to your nightshirt, briefly fighting with the buttons before ripping it, sending buttons flying everywhere. You make a mental note to demand he find those buttons and sew them back on later, the thought leaves your head when his mouth leaves yours and goes to your breasts, licking and nibbling the sensitive skin there.

“Astarion, please.” You don’t really know what you’re asking for, but he’s particularly feral in a way he rarely is, and it’s really doing it for you.

He looks at you with those hungry eyes, and you watch as they soften for just a second, “Anything for you, my love.” The softness leaves quickly, and he wastes no time removing your clothes, and wouldn’t have removed his own if you didn’t push him away and demand it.

When he finally sinks into you, he growls against your neck, and lets out a dark laugh when he feels you clench around him, a hand cupping your jaw, “Is this what gets you doing, darling?”

He lets you adjust for just a second, thumb stroking your cheek as he looks down of you, his crimson eyes filled with lust, before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back in, setting a harsh pace, groaning in response to your moans. You attempt to pull him down, wanting him to kiss you while he fucks you relentlessly, but he smirks down at you instead, “That’s sweet, my love, but I plan on watching you cum on my cock. You wouldn’t deny me the view would you?”

You whine and shake your head, and he growls again, deep in his throat, and you feel the vibrations on your skin. His hand on your jaw squeezes a bit, not painfully but you definitely feel the pressure, and he looks so lost in his pleasure you don’t even think he knows he’s doing it.

One of your hands grips his hair, your other grasping at his shoulder, nails digging in just slightly, needing to hold on as he fucks you hard, the sound of his skin slapping against yours filling the room and leaving you feeling full. You know he’s close and you are too but you need something more, as hot as his eagerness was, you lacked the foreplay you typically have when you have sex.

Astarion shifts, his arm resting partially on your shoulder, partially on the bed next to your head, resting his weight there so he doesn’t crush you as the hand that had been supporting him goes in between your bodies, teasing your clit and pulling a desperate whine from you. He grins, all teeth and fangs, as he starts to touch you properly, rubbing firm circles into your sensitive clit, watching as your eyes slip shut, so very close to your release.

“Eyes on me, my love, or I’ll stop.” He taunts, voice low, and your eyes snap open at the threat, your hand in his hair tugging as if having a better grip would save you. He grunts when you pull his hair, letting your grip pull his head back for a moment, before refocusing on you. “Cum for me, beautiful, and tell me you’re mine.”

It’s hot and possessiveness isn’t usually your thing, but in the privacy of your room, laying under him while he growls and fucks you like it’s the most urgent thing in the world, it’s enough to send you over the edge with a cry, followed by your panted words, “I’m yours, Astarion, all yours.”

He works you through it, and his fingers never stop touching your clit, even as you start to squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure. He leans down and kisses you, mostly tongue, licking deep into your mouth as he cums with a grunt. “And I’m yours, darling.”

[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

OMG SAW UR ASKS WERE OPEN AND I RAN SO FAST HFJDJSBS

Anyways ok so imagine *trips over my own feet* imagine uhm baking cookies *stumbling* baking cookies with Lilia:3

No pressure ofc! I hope u will enjoy writing this if u do! And make sure to drink after and take care of urself!

Flour Belongs In The Cookies; Lilia Vanrouge

Content; Gender-neutral reader, fluff, some pining

Word Count; 650+

Author's Note; Cloudy, you do know how bad his cooking is, right? Besides that, I hope you enjoy what I did with this little prompt!

As a reminder, do not put my work — or others for that matter — into AI as it steals. Link to Masterlist

You knew full well going into this that Lilia … wasn’t the best person to leave around food. Well, you didn’t know to the full extent how ‘bad’, ‘revolting’, and ‘utterly cursed’ he was according to his dormmates (and adoptive family? Still trying to wrap your head around that one, to be honest). 

Yet, as you were both adding ingredients to the batch of cookies you were making, he had done nothing to tamper with the recipe or mess up by accident. Perhaps Silver, Sebek and Malleus were just overexaggerating it? Lilia has been completely fine, a great helper even! 

“So,” you cleared your throat, breaking the quiet (which was both comfortable yet awkward). “Why did you want to bake cookies with me? Not that I mind, just curious is all.”

Lilia looked up from the wet and dry ingredients he was combining and offered you a cheeky smile with a wink. “Hmm, do I need a reason to do so,” he breathed with a silent chuckle, sneaking some of the raw dough into his mouth.

You tutted, taking the bowl away from him. “I don’t need you getting sick from eating that now–”

But your attempt at lecturing was silenced by a small puff of flour being slapped gently on your cheek; a white handprint now on it. “RUDE!”

Lilia was having a good old laugh, from either getting flour on you, the shocked expression on your face, or a combination of the two (knowing him, it was bound to be the last one). He was actually getting pink in the face because of it; was he even taking breaks from laughing to breathe???

“Ah, lighten up! Plus,” he paused and covered your hand in flour and gently slapped it on his cheek, “there, we match now.” 

His magenta eyes were twinkling with mischief and you found yourself gently shaking your head and chuckling. Sighing, you picked up some flour with your hands and made it look like you were just going to cover the countertop with it, but you swerved, and slapped it into Lilia’s hair.

Lilia coughed, and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get the flour out of his eyes, but once he opened them again, you were gone. So we’re playing games now? But he just wheezed in delight and gave chase, a cup full of flour on hand so he could repay the favour. After all, since you both had matching handprints on your cheeks, you deserved to be bestowed some flour on your head.

“And here you were saying it was rude of me for that first move,” he called out into the dorm. They couldn’t have gotten far now.

He heard the curtains ruffle, and he floated over, not making a sound.

Peaking oh so carefully behind the curtains, he spotted you, silently giggling to yourself. And that’s when he made his move.

“Found you!~” And he sprinkled the flour over your head; much more gently than you did to him.

You groaned, knowing it would take a bit to get the flour out from everything… but the way Lilia floated overhead made it look like he was sprinkling snow… was he always this pretty? Even with him covered in flour, you still felt your heart flutter.

You mentally slapped your cheeks though, and got yourself up. 

“Guess you did… but that was fun,” you chuckled, dusting yourself off to the best of your ability.

The moment though was ruined by your smoke alarm going off; it was a wonder that those even worked, but hey, at least they worked.

Rushing to the kitchen, you opened up the oven to have a mass of black smoke smelling of burnt food of some sort enveloping the both of you.

“What happened?!” You coughed out, trying to open up the windows and doors to let out the smoke.

Lilia grimaced, “Ah… perhaps I set the oven too high.”

And even though you had fun making the now coal-like cookies, perhaps store-bought would have been better…

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Tags; @afunkyfreshblog @eynnwwyjth @identity-theft-101 @ithseem @lucid-stories @ryker-writes @twistwonderlanddevotee @xxoomiii

[blarshwritezz]

This one was inspired by this post by @suiana <3

Yandere Beauty x Beast Reader

M yan x GN reader

TW - obsessive behavior, mass murder, maybe mild stalking(?), people are meanies

You've grown so tired of this life, but it was all you knew. You've been trapped like this for years with nothing but your own rage to accompany you. Many of the once priceless paintings in your palace were now destroyed. It didn't matter. No one remembered this place. No one remembered you.

And it would stay that way until you die.

Every now and then some adventurers or travellers would find your palace, hoping for a place to stay the night, only to run away in fear. They'd rather take their chances with the wolves than with such a terrifying beast.

You expected another one of those interactions when you heard a knock at the doors. Some didn't even have that much decency. You weren't expecting such a beautiful man to he the one at your door. Nor were you expecting him to get down on one knee and ask to be your husband.

"You are the most stunning creature I've ever seen...please, allow me the honor of marrying you!" Of all things, did he have to call you a creature? You were technically a person! At least, you were a long time ago.

Not wanting to go through with whatever he could possibly be planning, you slammed the door in his face with a firm "No." He was probably trying to make a fool of you, or perhaps even kill you. Even though you hated this life, you didn't want to die. Not quite yet

How you wished that was the end of it.

He started sleeping outside the door of your palace, insisting on marriage if he ever saw you. Whether you we stepping out on the balcony, looking out a window, or tending to the garden he'd beg for your hand in marriage.

Even though his appearance became disheveled after the many days he spent outside your palace, he was still more beautiful than any woman you met as a human. Such a beautiful man surely had plenty of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes lined up at his own door, so why did he insist on a life with you? A life of solitude and silence. A life without a single friend. Even your servants were long gone. Broken mirrors, dusty furniture, spiders and bugs infesting the least visited corners, was that really a l8fe to beg for?

You finally got agitated at all his begging and pleading, of all the surely empty promises. As he followed you through your garden on day, you lost it. You turned back and gripped him firmly by the jaw, smooshing his rosy cheeks together as you demanded an explanation.

"You're amazing, your majesty! You're my greatest dream." He admit, a deep blush growing on his cheeks as your grip tightened. "I'll admit, I wasn't planning to propose, so I failed to bring you a proper ring. But I came out here, curious if the rumors were true...and the second I laid eyes on you, I was in love!"

It sounded more ignorant than you expected.

"I fell to my knees once I beheld you. You were too perfect for me to handle, and I knew it was a sign that I had to marry you!"

You really didn't know what to say. Was this guy all beauty and no brains? You didn't realize those kinds of people really existed.

You dropped him, firmly telling him to get lost and marry someone else. Someone better. But he instantly feel to his knees, gripping your legs and begging with tears in his eyes.

"Please! At least give me a chance, my love!" You never realized someone could be so pathetic.

You dragged him away. First you tried tossing him off the palace grounds, but he came crawling back. Then you dropped him half way through the forest. Again, he refused to leave your side. So you left him the last place you wanted to go.

You dragged him all the way back to the village, and instantly received the backlash you expected. You tossed him to the crowd, and they instantly took him. And as for you? They threw rocks, rotten food, and whatever else they could easily throw. The assault lasted until you were out of their sight.

At least now you could continue your days in peace.

Oh, you thought. You wished, you prayed. Your peace didn't even last a day.

That night, when you went out to you balcony to stare into the night, an unfamiliar sight caught your eye. The bright light of a fire. A large fire, consuming everything in its path. A horrible fire, turning the village to dust.

You gripped your balcony, crushing the metal of the railing. What were you to do? The villagers hated you. They loathed your very existence. They didn't remember you as you once were, only the beast you were today.

You were still supposed to be their ruler.

They were still your people.

You had to protect your people.

Without another second of hesitation you rushed out of your palace and through the forest. Only to find one person on the path there. The beautiful man you gave back to them earlier.

"I got rid of them for you, darling. Those barbarians didn't see how absolutely beautiful you are, and they can't keep us apart any more." He knealt down on one knee, pulling out a black box and revealing a stunning ring.

"Now let me do this properly...will you marry me?"

I WAS INSPIRED, OKAY? I know I have requests to get to 😭

[11092234]

https://www.tumblr.com/ikkosu/744179706121912320?source=share

I'm a big fan of this answer. Can you do one with TFP Optimus with fem so who is a big tease so he just gave in? Thank you!

OPTIMUS.FEM.READER

whew!! a little nsfw (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

YOU'RE sprawled across the bed.

The ceilings's pretty interesting : veneered with a thin sheen of dust, cracked concrete that blotches the white, crevices and holes with god knows what spooling through. It's got tiles, too . One, tile. Two, tile. Three tile. Four...

"Optimus?"

Somewhere across your room, a deep voice rumbles back. "Yes, little one?"

He's got his back to you. A hunch over his shoulder plates, his optics are engrossed in the many hieroglyphics his datapad provides. Even when he's mass-displaced, the visage of him taking half of your bedroom with his large legs, are slightly comical.

This wasn't what you had in mind when you asked him to stay over, though.

"Bored." You stretched out the vowels. "How much longer will I have to suffer here and wait until you're done?"

The filials twitched. His helm tilts a little to the side.

"I have five more reports due tending." He says gravely. "It appears that this obstruction might exceed the usual hours you recharge. I suggest you rest without me, sweet spark."

Then, he's quiet again, engrossed in his work. Sweetspark, huh. You huffed, pout, then rolled across the bed. Landing on the carpet with a thump, sluggishly you waddle towards the hunk of metal that's hunching over your desk.

His back was warm. The gentle, thrumming heat is a soft flare against your face when your cheek nuzzles the surface. Optimus shifts on the spot, twisting his torso a little until his servo cups the nape of your neck, kneading the spot before curling his digits through your hair and tousling it.

"Rest. I'll be with you in a moment."He rumbles.

"I'll be dead by the time you're done." You let out a chuff and crawled over his forearm until you're all but draped across his lap. Optimus stiffens. His eyebrows shoot up and a vent follows, after, when you pout.

"As long as you are comfortable." He smiles and a servo rubs your cheek.

But, you don't smile — there's a mischievous twinkle in your eyes. Somehow, and you don't know how but he catches onto that look and an uneasy glance mottles over his own — not without a touch of curiosity.

He turns back to his datapad.

You lift up your palms. His optics, narrowed and still curious, follows along as you lower it, sprawled against your clothed stomach. Then, sliding lower, lower and lower until it hooks over the waist band of your shorts. You pull it down a little—

Then, he grabs your wrist with a warning call of your name. "This is...not appropriate."

"The circumstance or the setting?" You bite back playfully.

He opens his intake then shuts it. Instinctively, his optics skim over your body. Your lack of clothes are an interesting sight : shorts and a soft, loose shirt, displaying much of your collarbone. Your mussed up hair and lips kicked in his cooling fans. The visage bore the same kind of fantasy he confined in the privacy of his habsuite....

For once, the Prime seems incredibly distracted.

"You've tired yourself out enough." He grits out.

"I'd like to tire myself more."

He lets out a grunt when your hand finds his abdominal plating, feeling the protoform tense under your palms — the surface, heated and very much warm. Your fingers pitter patter along the seams-like energon veins that branched from his panel.

An equivalent of a happy trail, huh.

"I'm bored, Optimus." You purred, index trailing a line downwards. "Didn't you say you'll take care of me well, hm?"

"...You do not know what you are..." You cup his lower panel and he shudders, body curling over you, weighted by the pleasurable sensation shooting up his spine. His servos come to rest on the desk, caging you between his arms as he gathers himself. Chassis, heaving.

"Ratchet will be disappointed." Feather like touches knead over his closed panel. "Old friend this, old friend that. Don't you think old friend'll scold you if you're not resting, Optimus?*

You had been so quick, mousing around and pawing with your hands, he lets out a startled vent at the sensation of your plush cheek against his thighs. His surprise sky-rocketed when you part it further and he groans when your soft lips pepper kisses on the panel.

You can hear the pressure behind it — pulsing, pushing, and the heat trapped inside seethed out his cooling vents like steam. Lubricant leaks from the panel seams and your tongue curls out to lap the fluid — which gets a startled groan.

A servo rests on top of your head, the digits curled into the hair, almost in a pleading manner everytime your tongue drags across a particularly sensitive spot. Eventually, your assault on his closed panel ceases and he's left vulnerable with his engine revved.

You peer up to your guardian.

"Open."

And, so he does.

[just-some-trans-nobody]

Male Yautja trying out a period cramp simulator with his ooman mate

Reader is AFAB but only gender neutral prounons are used. In this reader is someone who currently suffers horrible cramps or has in the past.

Warnings: cursing, period pain simulated

Minors Don't Interact!

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The both of you had gone into market to stock up on somethings your mate couldn't go out and hunt like cleaning supplies and a new pan seeing as you mate had accidentally broken the last one, though you suspected he had been playing with it and was embarrassed that he had broken it... again.

Looking around you smiled seeing a booth selling little knick knacks and trinkets. Nothing really caught your eyes until you noticed a small crowd all watching someone in a chair seemingly in pain as they all looked on in amusement. Raising your brow you watched confused on what wad going on and why they found it so entertaining to watch. Your mate seemed interested too as he started walking over wanting to know what was going on too. With quick steps you struggled to keep up with his long strides, damn him for being so tall.

Approaching the crowd it didn't take you long to find out what was going on. It was a period cramp simulator that the public could try out. People of course were using it to show off how much pain they could endure. It made you chuckle that this was being made into a test of strength because of course. The guy in the chair tapped out quickly after getting to the eighth setting. A few people layed at him and patted his shoulder, you assumed they were friends of his. The person running the simulator, a mass of squirming tentacles looked to you and trilled at the sight of a human. "Come come! Try it out show how a quoman deals which such crippling pain!" They squealed gesturing for you to come up to the chairs thst were set up. This got the crowds attention, they wanted to see how well a human could handle it.

This attention on you from the crowd caused your mate to let out a possessive growl as he put a arm in front of you. He didn't like strangers looking at his mate and he definitely didn't want someone causing his mate pain. "No no it's fine love." You said putting your hand on his outstretched arm. "Let's try it together." You suggested giving him a warm smile, if the two of you hadn't been in public that smile would have made him purr. He had mixed feelings he wanted to show off to his mate but he didn't want his mate in pain. The cheering crowd had little to no effect on him, he didn't care about them, only you. "I can handle it love and if I can't I will just tap out. It's ok." You reassured going on your tip toes to kiss his cheek. He almost slipped up and let out a purr feeling your kiss. Oh how he adored your kisses, he couldn't say no to them. Slowly he nodded his head and walked up to the chairs with you.

His chair groaned at the weight of his body when he sat down. Yours didn't make a single sound. He didn't hide his distan seeing the tentacled alien put the pads onto your stomach, he hated seeing someone touch his mate. You didn't mind but you weren't a fan of how cold they were. Next was your mates turn to get the sticky pads put on his stomach. This was terrifying for the slimy alien to do, they rushed the job wanting to make a little distace from the glaring yautja. Once everything was set up they moved away and gave the both of you a warning before turning the dial to the first setting.

Neither of you had much of a reaction from it. Your mate hardly even felt it and you shown no response to it. You only looked to your mate with a smile before looking back to the operator nodding when the asked if you were reay for the next level.

Still not much of a response from the two of you. It felt like a walk in the park to you. "Heh wish my cramps were this light." You joked laughing softly. You mate raised a brow hearing that. He was curious to know just how bad your cramps were, they couldn't be that bad right?

The third setting he finally started feeling somthing but it was well bellow his pain level. Looking to you he noted that you were still smiling happyily feeling rather giddy at this experience. The crowd were a little horrified and absolutely amazed to see you smiling durning this. Usally people weren't this happy to be in pain.

Fourth setting made your mate a little uncomfortable. Just enough for him to shift lightly in his seat. Still you were just smiling giggling softly seeing your mate shifting. "You ok love? You can tap out if you need." You teased boiling his blood. This was a challenge now, he wanted no he needed to get to a higher seating than you.

His stomach tensed at the fith setting. It was a pain he could handle but if he had to deal with it for a week every couple of weaks it would have ade him pretty grumpy he knew that for sure. Glancing to you he was surprised to see you just sitting there lazily as you smiled as of it was nothing. "I couldn't get past that setting. How do humans do it?" Someone from the crowd whispered to another. You didn't hear it but your mate sure did.

Six? Oh boy ow. Still your mate wasn't backing down nd neither was you. His manbles flared into a smirk seeing you wince for a momemt. He hoped you were about to tap out when you opened your mouth but was taken back hearing you laugh. "This feels like one of my lighter days." You said with an amused tone gaining a few shocked gasped from the crowd.

You finally shifted at seven before getting comfortable again after adjusting. "Still not as bad as it get's." You said taking it in stride. The person who had gone before you was in absolutely shock and horror that not only did a human beat him but did it like a champ. Your mate was irritated he still hadn't bested you but was honestly admiring how well you handling the pain. He was gripping the arm rest so hard it splintered in his hand.

He nearly tapped out at eight holy fuck it hurt so bad. Looking to you his eyes bulged seeing that you were only lightly resting your hand on your stomach. "You ok honey?" You asked letting out a shaky breath. Fuck, he was so attracted to you. Look at you hardly reacting to the pain he was struggling with. His little ooman was so strong and he some how was falling even more in love with you than he was before.

Once at nine he was hunched over holding his stomach tight. "D-do you want to tap out?" The operator asked him gaining a loud growl in return. His dreads surrounded his head like a current. He tried glancing to you but he didn't have the strength to pull his arms away to move them out of his sight. You were simply holding your stomach with a frown as you slowly breathed in and out. The crowd murmuring to each other watching in quiet shock and amazement.

He couldn't, he couldn't anymore he had to tap out at ten he couldn't it was too much. Letting out a pained roar he ripped the pads off his stomach and looked to you. Just sitting there focused on your breathing with knitted brows and a frown. "To much for you?" You asked clenching a arm on your stomach as you gripped the arm rest. The crowd cheered astonished that you made it to ten. Quickly the operator turned it off and took the pads off you.

"It must be broken no way a ooman could do that!" Shrieked the male who had gone before you stomped up to the front of the crowd gaining a growl from the very grumpy and possesive mate of yours. "Let me try the one the ooman used!" He demanded. Shrugging the operator put the pad on him and turned it on. "No to the ten! If the ooman can do it so can I!" He stomped his foot acting like a toddler throwing a fit. "You asked for it." The operator warned before setting it to the tenth setting. Immediately he was on the ground walling as loud as his lungs would let him. This caused the crowd to roar with laughter as the operator quickly turn it off. Stand up the male waddled away holding his stomach greatly embarrassed by the scene he had caused.

Your mate was absolutely delighted by this. His mate was so strong. Moving closer to you he wrapped his arms around your waist whispering praises to you. He bought you so many gifts before the two of you finally went home. The whole time he was praising you on your strength. Definitely looks at you in a new light. Who knew you delt with that much pain so often. He understands so much better now why you snap so much or were unable to walk some days. More worried about you now any time you have cramps, he's gone through the pain and now he knows how you feel, he feels so bad you had to keep doing dealing with it unable to just turn it off. Any time you had cramps he was cooing and pampering you as much as you let him.

[doyoulikethis-videogame-song]

Ask Masterpost 2/1/2025

Fourth edition! I changed some formatting things for better readability.

Summary:

Permissibility of creator-leaked/teased soundtracks (Not allowed)

Proposal of demographics poll

Permissibility of Simlish covers (Allowed)

What franchise has the most polls?

Permissibility of remixes of licensed music (Allowed)

Inquiry about duplicate submissions

Permissibility of pinball soundtracks (Not Allowed) and Inquiry about ports of older games

Permissibility of unused tracks in the game files (Allowed)

Permissibility of roblox game tracks (Allowed)

Highest "I like & I know it" song?

Inquiry about revealing the composer before the reveal

Proposal of demographics poll

"Can we submit 'leaked' soundtracks from games if the creator leaked/teased them?"

I'm going to say no, because there's a broad spectrum of scenarios that could happen in between the 'leak' and the official launch of the song that would technically make the 'leak' not indicative of the final product and of course you don't know that until the final product is released :').

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@pomrania asked:

Is there any chance we could get a poll on what people mean when they vote for that they like a song, or that it sounds familiar? For me, "I like this song" means "I'd want to listen to it again once it's revealed", and "it sounds familiar" generally means "I'm not sure whether I've heard it before but I might have" also sometimes it's "I know I haven't heard this SPECIFIC song before, but I recognize the motifs in it".

Or if that's not something you'd want to make a poll for, then I'd still be interested in seeing what people say for how they vote on things, like in the comments.

I think this would be super interesting to do for a special event or something like that! I've been curious about demographics and other general statistics for a while now. I'm actually starting to have quite a good rhythm with managing the blog now so I may begin implementing the fun side ideas I've had sometime soon (or at least, I hope so, this semester is looking rough LOL)

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Can we submit simlish versions of popular songs, like simlish Katy Perry?

They're remixes for a game so absolutely! I think we already have some in the submissions queue.

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Which franchise/game has the most polls?

It's probably destiny (forlorn, distant stare).

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@haellen-o asked:

Is licensed music created/remixed for video games allowed?

(examples being the version of rob zombies dragula in the original jet set radio. And ludens by bring my the horizon)

It's an official remix for the game's soundtrack, so absolutely :).

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Out of curiosity, how often do you get duplicate requests from different people (or maybe the same person, worried you never got their first response, lol)? I think you've said you have around 7,000 requests, is that after removing duplicates or before?

We honestly have a lot of duplicate requests for popular games, and we've been shaving down the duplicates as we go along and queue new submissions. I think we've cut down AROUND ~1000 duplicates so far (we're not done!) and these are mostly very popular (at least on tumblr) games such as disco elysium, sonic series games, in stars and time, final fantasy, pokemon, tf2, mass effect, hollow knight, legend of zelda, just off the top of my head. The 7000 number was from before removing duplicates.

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for older games where the music is ported to different consoles, would the soundtracks be considered separate if the soundfonts impact them enough, or do they have to be very, VERY different? Like if a game was released on pc vs a 32x port.

Also, if a pinball cabinet includes a soundtrack, is that considered a video game soundtrack?

I would honestly just submit your PREFERRED version (if the soundfonts did differ), and I would put BOTH versions into the reveal, since I don't think this is a common enough occurrence to be significantly obnoxious/unfair for whatever reason. As for the pinball question, last masterpost answered overwhelmingly 'no', so I'm going to say no as well :').

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Are unused vgms allowed for submission? So in the files but never added to the game itself.

If you can credit the creator of the tracks then yes! (provided they're in the files in the final publicly released version and not from a demo/waiting for a future update to be implemented in a live service game/etc)

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are roblox games allowed?

Yes, if you can credit the creator of the tracks and they were made for that roblox game :).

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what song had the highest "I like it and I've definitely heard it before" percent?

I think it is still #100, which was Megalovania from Undertale (85.20%) Correction: It's Death By Glamour, #460, at 87% :)

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@enderlordisadumbusername asked:

are we allowed to mention song composers before the song has been revealed?

Absolutely!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And please do!!!!!! (This will literally only give away the game if you were already familiar enough to know the composer, so it's actually very perfect)

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Would you or have you ever run a poll to gauge how much of a song your followers listen to before voting?

Definitely considering it after learning a lot of people don't listen to the full song or even at least the first minute...

[palesweetsdeer]

Mausoleum (Rodentbrothers)

A ficlet about the time V ate Copia’s rat Snowball. Find the comic this is based on under the #my art tag and read this and other fun shit on Ao3

His heels clack over the floor as Perpetua strides through the empty corridors of the abbey. It’s a low sound, much softer than it normally would be. A perk of his half ghoul heritage. He moves so much quieter than humans. 

It has helped him a lot, growing up. Sneaking in and out of the monastery whenever he wanted to spend a night in town or the woods. It had been a freeing thing, to know he could just… vanish whenever he wanted to. 

That he could hunt. This was a downside of his genes, although he rarely ever saw it as such. It was not something he could help but also not something he wished or actively worked to get rid of. He’s not even sure he’s ever really felt bad about it. He never hunted humans. Can’t remember he has, at least. 

Perpetua’s memory of his childhood isn’t the best, mostly because of trauma repression but he’s pretty sure he’d remember if he’d ever killed a human. This goes to say he does feel guilty sometimes, for killing. Snuffing out lives to feed a hunger that he shouldn’t have. It doesn’t even do anything for him. Eating human food was totally fine, he’d never felt like he needed to hunt to survive. But the drive is still there. The nagging, obnoxious voice in the back of his head, urging him to stalk, to chase, to kill. 

He’s not sure why he got this trait as well. Why a hybrid would need a prey drive. He’s just glad it isn’t something that happens often. Once a month, if he’s unlucky. Most of the time he can go months without hunting, before the urge returns. It’s never something particular that sets it off, he just gets a tingly feeling and he knows he has to kill something. 

His fingers itch, his mouth is dry, his skin feels wrong. Like he’s too big for his body. Like his skin is about to tear, about to unleash a monster upon his surroundings. Perpetua has always managed to kill and satisfy this hunger before it got too bad, but he can’t deny being curious about what would happen if he were too late one day. If the monster were to come out.    

Now, finding something to kill in the Ministry proved to be rather difficult, if he didn’t want to resort to actually murdering humans, so he was now on his way through the abbey, towards the nearby forest. For sure there would be some animals to hunt there. He knows there are. 

He’s seen ghouls retreat to the woods and return with animal carcasses of all types. Deer, bunnies, squirrels… even possums on some days. He had no idea where they’d gotten those from, he wasn’t sure they were even native to Sweden. 

His ear twitches and he stops in his tracks, turning to the side to search for whatever it was that had grabbed his attention. 

Under one of the pews, half hidden by the shadow, sat a fat, white rat, nibbling on a small piece of bread which had probably fallen off the altar during evening mass. 

He doesn’t move for a while, simply staring at the thing as it happily ate its prey. Prey. 

Perpetua’s ears flick and pin back against his head as he turns on his heel, eyes zeroing in on the rat. It was a very large, very thick animal, well kept fur glistening in the dim light of the candles. Vaguely he was aware that this rat was way too fat and way too taken care of to be a wild animal, that it had to be some sort of domesticated or a pet but he finds that he doesn’t have it in him to care. Not when he’s this hungry. 

It happens the same way it always does. He blacks out and when he comes to again, his lips are smeared with blood, dripping from his chin, soiling his cassock. He’ll have to wash it, he realises. Preferably before someone notices and starts asking questions. 

He licks his lips and savours the coppery taste of blood that blooms on his tongue. He closes his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply as he composes himself. His heart is still hammering but not as wildly anymore and he can feel himself calming down. 

The hunger is sated and judging by his utter relaxation at the moment, he won’t have to hunt for another long while. He coughs a bit, tugging bits of fur from his tongue and grimacing as he shudders. 

“Cazzo… thick fur this one”, he tongues at his teeth, trying to find any other remnants of hair but is happy to remain unsuccessful. 

He slowly rises to his feet, straightening out his cassock and tugging his poncho around his shoulders tightly to hide the dark stains all over his chest. He’d always been a messy eater when it came to hunts and maybe this was the part he was most embarrassed about. 

He turns on his heels to march out of the abbey and disappear into his chambers but stops as his ears catch the faintest sound of footsteps, rapidly approaching. For a moment he thinks about hiding, about fleeing the scene, although there really isn’t much of a ‘scene’ left, is there? The rat was gone entirely, safe for the tiny bits of flesh and fur which he’d been too picky to eat off the floor. 

The door to the abbey is opened, and in flows a gentle, yet cold breeze, ruffling his hair a bit. He shudders and straightens his back, raising his chin to get a better look at the newcomer. 

Copia stares at him for a solid moment, silently letting his eyes flit over his form. They both stay quiet until the former Papa seems to have finished his examination  and tilts his head to the side in question, like a bird. Like an air ghoul. Perpetua smiles fondly at the small motion. 

“V eh… have you ah…”, he frowns and squints as if he can’t see as well as he’d like to. Understandable, the abbey is only dimly lit by a few candles. “Are you okay? Your mouth is all… eh..”, he makes a gesture, motioning to his own lips, “fucked.” 

Perpetua purses his lips again, hiding his blood stained teeth. 

“I’m quite alright, yes. I fell and bit my tongue.” 

“Really? Your eh.. tongue bleeds that much?” 

“If bitten correctly, yes.” 

He doesn’t know why he’s lying. But he is. Maybe it’s habit, maybe it’s the faint sense in the back of his mind, telling him that he did something wrong. 

Copia stares for a moment longer and then shakes his head, clapping as if to ground himself. Perpetua finds, that he likes the motion. It reminds him of himself, when he wants to divert attention from something awkward. 

“Anyways, ah, I’m looking for a pet of mine. Snowball. It’s way past feeding time and he hasn’t shown up. You eh… you wouldn’t happen to know where he is?” 

Perpetua stares blankly. 

This is bad. This is really fucking bad. No, no it’s not. He squares his shoulders, trying to keep his hands from trembling. Copia had just said ‘pet’ not rat or anything of the sort. A pet could be a lot of things. Cats, dogs, birds even. But Copia didn’t look like the kind of man to have cats as pets. Or dogs. Or birds. He looked like he had rats. He’d even written a fucking song about it, hadn’t he? 

Perpetua feels himself start to sweat, cold and shivering, fear and regret making way in his heart. Still, he forces his voice not to tremble as he opens his mouth, making sure to show as little of his bloody teeth as possible. 

“I didn’t.. I wasn’t aware you had… pets. Snowball is a very sweet name, may I ask what kind of animal he was- is?” 

His fingers tremble and he does his best to clasp his hands together tightly, knuckles turning white. 

Copia blinks and frowns, looking around the room as if in search. 

“Eh, yes, yes. He’s a rat. I happen to have a few of them but Snowball often runs off on his own. I usually find him here so I thought maybe he’d come back. He likes to sit under the pews.” 

Perpetua feels like he’s going to faint. 

His heart is racing, his skin is burning and all of a sudden the blood on his chin and clothing feels sticky and wrong, like acid burning away his skin and leaving nothing but shame and bone in its wake. He fucked up. Big time. 

“I don’t think you’ll find him here”, he gets out and his voice is thin and barely audible, clearly shaken by anxiety and guilt. 

Copia waves him off and goes to kneel next to one of the pews, looking underneath it. 

“No, no, he likes to hide. Sometimes it takes hours of searching until I find him.” 

“Yes but I don’t think… you’ll be successful this time.”

At that, Copia pauses and lifts his head, brows drawn together. There are deep lines, etched onto his forehead and Perpetua hates the feeling that tells him that he’ll contribute to them deepening. 

“Why not?” 

There’s a sense of genuine confusion but also fear in his voice. Like deep down, he knows what happened. Which is impossible of course, nobody in their right mind would suspect their twin brother of eating their pet rat. 

Perpetua really wishes this was a fever dream. Maybe it is. How crazy would it be if he just woke up back in the monastery, as a six year old kid, never having killed anything? Ha! It would be too silly, but just what he needed right now. 

Sathanas, he wants this to be over. 

Copia stands back up now, the frown on his face deepening. 

“V. Why won’t I find him?!” 

The first indicator of his breakdown is the way his lip starts to quiver. Perpetua had never been one to cry easily but he’d always felt guilty easily. And if the guilt was as harsh and as unbearable as this… 

He sobs, high and dry in his throat and sinks to his knees, clutching his stomach like he can feel the poor thing move inside him. Like it claws at his insides to let it back out, to give back the life he’d stolen from it, for no other reason than to feed a hunger he didn’t have to feed. 

“I ate him!” 

The abbey is quiet for a moment, safe for the dry heaving and sobs as Perpetua comes to terms with the fact that he may have just destroyed the fragile, friendly bond he’d built with his brother. They’d gotten closer over the past few weeks and Perpetua had genuinely felt like he was home. Like he had found something he loved to do, someone he loved to be around. A family, that was the word. 

Now he’d gone and fucked it up. Like he always did. It had always been like this. Ever since he was a child, he’d built friendships just to fuck them up with his.. his weirdness all over again. No relationship he’d ever had, had lasted. None of them had good endings. He’d always done shit to fuck them up so badly, he never even got another letter from people, let alone a call or a meet up. 

Copia is quiet. Very quiet. He doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, doesn’t even seem to breathe. And he doesn’t yell. That’s perhaps the worst thing at the moment. 

Perpetua wants him to yell, to curse at him, to strip him off his title and send him back to Italy. He’s got the power to do it, no doubt. As Frater Imperator, it’s his decision. Perpetua almost wishes he would do it. Wishes he’d send him back to where he’d come from, leaving him to lead the sad, lonely life he seemed to deserve. 

“You ate him.” 

His voice isn’t angry. It’s not anything. It is completely devoid of any emotion and Perpetua sobs even harder, burying his face in his hands. He feels bile rise to the back of his throat but he doesn’t vomit. Thank Sathanas. The last thing he wants right now is Copia having to face the half digested remains of his rat. 

He’d ripped the poor thing to shreds and then devoured it, bones and all. He’d never cared for bones or fur or anything of the animals he ate. They were annoying because they sometimes hurt his teeth or stuck to his tongue but he’d never minded them much. Not until now. Not until he felt like the tiny bones were poking into his intestines, wanting to rip him open from the inside, to kill him like he’d killed Snowball. He’d let them. 

“You ate him.” 

This time, there are tears in Copia’s voice. If tears of anger or grief, Perpetua isn’t sure. He doesn’t want to be sure either. He can’t manage to look up, can’t face him right now. And Copia doesn’t seem to want him to. 

It takes a few more seconds until the clacking of heels over the floor echoes through the abbey, followed by the slam of the door. 

“Fuck”, he sobs, wiping at his eyes. 

His hands tremble worse now. He’s almost as bad as Swiss with his tremors, he realises. He tries to stand up, to run after Copia and apologise but his legs give out and he unceremoniously face plants onto the marble floor. 

He decides not to get up. 

This is officially the worst thing that has happened to him. Ever. He ate his twin brother’s pet rat, started to have a mental breakdown and now he’s lying on the floor, feeling like he might’ve broken his nose. 

He doesn’t know how long he stays there on the floor, quietly sobbing into the tiles underneath him. Eventually, the door creaks open again and Perpetua wants to get up, but he doesn’t. 

Whoever came in, they are allowed to see him like this. Maybe. He’s not sure. He’ll probably be embarrassed about it later, when he’s done feeling guilty. 

“What the fuck is going on?” 

Perpetua scrambles to sit up as soon as the voice cuts through the silence of the abbey, wiping at his eyes furiously. 

Aether stares down at him, tail lashing in.. is it anger? It might be. Anger and something deep, something primal that Perpetua’s ghoul side recognises as the fury of a mated ghoul. The fury of someone, whose mate had been hurt. 

He’s going to die. 

If not of shame, he’ll probably get killed by Aether. Ripped to shreds for causing his mate pain. He hadn’t been aware that Copia had this kind of bond with any of his ghouls but it did make sense. He’d been at the Ministry long enough to notice that Aether hung around the Frater’s office almost all day long. At first he’d discarded it as a close friendship or work related business, perhaps their respective jobs lead them to work together at times. But now everything fell into place and Perpetua is sure that he’s going to die. 

“I’m sorry”, he whines, wiping at his eyes. 

“Sorry for what?!”, Aether points behind him. “You wanna tell me why the fuck I just encountered Copia, sobbing his eyes out, laid over his couch like a maiden in distress and then come down here to find you sprawled on the floor, FACE DOWN, ALSO sobbing your eyes out?!” 

Perpetua sniffles and hiccups a bit. 

“He hasn’t told you-”

“Told me what?! He said to ask you and I find you laying here, looking like you got your face smashed in!” 

“I ate Snowball!”

At that, Aether stops and Perpetua starts wailing again. The quint stares at him for a long moment and then flicks his ears. 

“You ate Snowball?” 

“Stop saying it!” 

“You started it!” 

Perpetua sobs again, although his tears are mostly dry and he can feel a migraine start to form behind his eyes. Aether looks like he’s going to punch the shit out of him for a moment but then his whole body softens and he goes back to the gentle, sweet ghoul Perpetua has gotten used to. 

“Get up. You’re gonna get a cold.” 

Perpetua shakes his head but squeaks in surprise as his arm is grabbed gently and he gets lifted to his feet, a strong hand steadying his waist to keep him standing. It feels strange, with the way his legs are still trembling. 

“Why did you eat him?”, Aether asks. His voice is soft and he tilts his head, looking up at Perpetua in question. “Are you alright? I’m not sure if your body is used to… uh… digesting this stuff.” 

Perpetua shakes his head and rubs at his mouth. 

“I’ve done this before, I can take it. I just… I feel so shitty.” 

“Yeah, it was a shitty thing to do, wasn’t it.”

”Mhm.” 

Aether looks at him and nudges his horns against his cheek. Perpetua is ghoul enough to feel the reassurance and gentleness in the gesture and he feels himself relax a little. 

“I don’t know why I did it, you see? I just… I was so hungry. I always had this… this hunger- this” 

“Need to hunt.” 

Perpetua looks over and Aether nods, his face stern now. 

“Have you ever killed a human, V?” 

Perpetua shakes his head vehemently and steps back. 

“No! Never! I would never-“

”That’s the problem.” 

Aether sighs and bumps their noses together. 

“Kill a human every once in a while, Papa. It makes the hunger go away. I promise you, it will.” 

Perpetua stares down at him for a moment and then starts sobbing again. 

He’s going fucking insane. He’s sure he is. What the fuck is happening to him? First he ate his brother’s rat, then he nearly broke his nose and now the sweetest, loveliest ghoul he knows is telling him to indulge in cannibalism. It does feel like a fever dream, maybe he’s about to wake up. He hopes he is. He never wants to hear Aether say ‘kill a human every once in a while’ again. 

Aether tugs him against his broad frame, hugging him close as he lets him cry. It’s oddly comforting, even though Aether is one of the ghouls he hadn’t had much contact with. 

“I’m not a cannibal-“, he sniffles, wrapping his arms around Aether’s neck. 

“It’s not cannibalism. You’re not human. All I’m telling you, is that it will be easier for you, if you kill one, every once in a while. I only get hungry every five months.” 

“And you hunt?” 

Aether remains quiet for a moment and then sighs. He doesn’t seem proud of himself. 

“Not always.” 

Perpetua stays quiet for a moment and then rubs at his nose. 

“You kill Siblings of Sin.” 

“Sometimes.” Aether looks over to the altar and his eyes seem vacant. Sad, almost. Like he regrets a lot. It’s a foreign sight, one Perpetua isn’t sure how to feel about. “I know how guilty you feel. I know how it is to take something loved from someone, never able to give it back.” 

“But I ate his rat.” 

“And I eat his subordinates. It hurts him but he doesn’t say it. And I feel so, so horrible for it.” 

The ghoul steps back and swishes his tail over the ground. 

“Come on. You need to get back to your chambers. You’re exhausted. Please, Papa.” 

Perpetua doesn’t say anything and Aether seems to take his silence as an answer. He grabs the man’s hand and they start walking. Perpetua doesn’t look where they’re going, gaze stubbornly fixed on the floor as he feels the guilt eat him alive. He’s never felt this shitty in his life. 

He knows that, technically, it hadn’t been on purpose. He hadn’t made an extra effort to hunt down one of Copia’s rats specifically, it had just so happened that Snowball had been at the wrong place at the wrong time. Which is bad enough as it is. Now he can at least console himself with the thought that he didn’t mean it. 

After a while they stop and when Perpetua looks around he finds that they’re standing right in front of the door leading to his room. 

“Can you take care of yourself?”, Aether asks but there is no malice in his words, no condescension. He seems genuinely concerned and Perpetua wants to scream at him for it. Wants to make him see the monster he is but then again… Aether said he should kill humans from time to time so… Who really is the monster out of the two? 

He shakes his head. Aether nods and guides him inside, where they work to scrub the blood stains out of Perpetua’s cassock and from his face. By the time they’re done, the faint smell of copper on the fabric is the only reminder of what had happened. The only physical one, anyway. 

They walk back to Perpetua’s bed and he sits down, staring at the wall. Aether looks at him for a moment and then sighs. 

“Sathanas almighty, you look terrible.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Yeah…” 

The ghoul looks around the room and flicks his tail. 

“I’ll talk to Copia.” 

Perpetua scoffs wetly, eyes starting to tear up once more. 

“That won’t make him forgive me.” 

Aether hums. 

“Don’t be too sure about that. I can be very convincing.” 

The Papa shakes his head and buries it in his hands, clutching his forehead in despair. 

“No, Aether you don’t get it! I killed and then ate something precious to him! He didn’t like me all that much before, he’ll surely resent me now! He has no reason to ever forgive me!” 

Aether is silent for a moment and then moves over, planting a hand on Perpetua’s chest as if to steady him. The Papa doesn’t get time to react or wonder about the sudden touch because not a second later, his consciousness is ripped from him as quintessence floods his mind and drags him into the claws of a deep, dreamless sleep. 

——— 𖤐 ———

Copia doesn’t talk to him at all for the next week. They see each other a few times in the hallways but every time they do, the Frater makes a big show of scrunching up his nose in distaste and turns the other way. 

They held a funeral for Snowball. Perpetua wasn’t invited. Even worse, he’d gotten a letter delivered to his door, telling him explicitly to not make an effort to show up. 

He’d cried for an hour after that. 

Two weeks pass and Perpetua feels worse and worse. He barely leaves his room and doesn’t make an effort to work on his album or any kind of merchandise. He doesn’t want people to think that he’s sulking, because he’s not, but can’t bring himself to act tough and just continue on as normal. 

Things go downhill and only come to a halt when he’s awoken by someone ripping the covers from his sleeping body, two Sundays after Snowball’s funeral. 

He yelps and half heartedly covers his eyes with his hand, peeking through his fingers to look up at Aether, who apparently had a key to his room. Or maybe not. He leers over and sees that the door is… demolished. It hangs loosely in its hinges, metal edges scraping over the floor. 

“Wha-”

“Get up.” 

Perpetua blinks sluggishly. Even if he hadn’t just woken up, this would be a most confusing thing to witness. 

“I- Did you break down my door?!” 

“I said: get up!”, Aether reaches over, grabs his arm and tugs him into a sitting position and ultimately out of bed, onto his feet. 

He then moves to drag Perpetua with him, out of the room and down the hallway. Perpetua finds himself momentarily stunned, too confused and scared to say anything or feel remotely depressed anymore. After a few minutes he adjusts and starts walking with Aether, jogging to match the ghoul’s wide steps. Aether might not be as tall as him but he’s much faster. 

“Where are we going?”, he manages to get out after a while as they descend towards the cellars. 

“I’m sick of you two acting like this. It makes my head hurt and I feel like I’m dying because my mate is upset. So, I’m gonna make you two reconcile.” 

At that, Perpetua starts to sweat, fear and shock clawing at his heart and numbing his brain. He doesn’t say anything, just lets himself get dragged behind the quint, thoughts racing with possible scenarios  that somehow always end with Copia beating the shit out of him. 

They stop at a small door which Aether pushes open, shoving Perpetua into the room. It’s cold. An eerie chill hangs in the air and makes him aware that he’s still in his sleep wear, which consists of silk pants and nothing else. He shudders and wraps his arms around himself as his gaze falls onto the small, marble build in the middle of the room. 

A mausoleum, with the name ‘Snowball’ engraved in the black stone. There are a few couches positioned in a circle around the grave, Perpetua knows is empty. Copia sits on one of them and stands up once he hears the door open. 

“Aether if you lock me in a room again I swear-“, he pauses, looks at Perpetua and his face twists into a scowl. “The fuck is going on?” 

Aether slams the door shut and judging by the click that follows, locks it again. 

“I’m sick of this! Literally. I’m physically getting sick at seeing both my mate and my Papa like this. So, you will talk this out and start loving each other again or so Sathanas help me, I will force you to!”, the ghoul exclaims and Perpetua doesn’t doubt for a second that his threat was empty. 

He finds that he hates the idea of getting mind controlled into apologising more to Copia so he willingly takes a seat on the couch opposite from his brother. The Frater watches him, mismatched eyes narrowed in disdain. 

Aether walks over and taps his tail against Copia’s thigh. 

“Sit, lovely. This is probably gonna take a while.” 

“I’m not five!” 

“Then act like it!” 

Copia snarls but takes a seat, crossing both arms and legs, staring at the ground. He’s angry but even more than that, he’s hurt. Snowball had been the oldest rat, he’d gotten him during his last few years as Cardinal. They’d been through a lot together and thinking about a future without the small ball of fur… it made his teeth clench and his heart throb with pain. 

Perpetua wants to throw up. His lips are pressed together tightly and his leg bounces nervously, silk pants flailing with the motion. 

Aether looks between them and then sighs, standing in the middle of the room. 

“Alright. Both of you are going to talk and listen to each other, okay? If I catch any of you fucking this up, I’m using my Quintessence.” 

Copia looks up. 

“I’m not allowing that.” 

Aether snorts. 

“Sorry, lovely, you don’t get a say in this. We’re mated, you don’t have any power over me.”

Copia clamps his mouth shut and it looks like he’s about to break his jaw from how hard he’s clenching it. Perpetua feels even worse at that because he gets the sense that he might be the reason this relationship is going downhill as well.

Aether looks from Copia to Perpetua and back and then hums. 

“Good. C, what do you want to tell him?” 

Copia fixes him with a stare that makes his heart clench. 

“That he can go fuck-“ 

“Copia.” 

The Frater inhales deeply and then uncrosses his arms. 

“That I’m heartbroken and disappointed. That rat was very important to me, he was one of my favourites and I’ve had him for a long time. And honestly… I don’t get it. I don’t understand what the fuck would drive someone to eat a rat! Whole!” 

Aether nods and smiles, giving a reassuring chirp. The way Copia spoke and the immediate praise he received for it makes Perpetua think that this isn’t the first time they’ve worked out a conflict like this. 

“That was good. Papa?”, the ghoul asks, turning to Perpetua who looks like he’s about to break down again. 

He takes a shaky breath and straightens his back as best he can, clasping his trembling hands together. Why they tremble, he doesn’t know. Might be the cold, might be the nerves. 

“I.. I want to say that I’m sorry. Like.. I’m really, really sorry. I never- never..”, he licks his lips, concentrates and tries to rid his voice of his stutter, “I never meant for that to happen I just… I need to hunt, from time to time. It’s part of my mixed genes, I think, and I really don’t enjoy it but… I just need to do it. And Snowball… Snowball was just… prey..” 

He trails off at the end and drops his face back into his hands. The room is quiet for a moment and then Copia speaks, without being asked to first. 

“You hunt like a ghoul.” 

“Only sometimes!”, Perpetua exclaims, raising his head again. “Nothing like this will ever happen again, I swear! I didn’t know you owned any pets, let alone rats! I promise it wasn’t on purpose!” 

Copia looks at him in silence for a while and then his lip starts to quiver. Gone is the hate and there appears something small and cracked. Something hurt. 

Perpetua blinks and then they both start crying at the same time. Aether watches and sighs, smiling softly. He walks over and Copia gets up, moving to hug the taller ghoul, burying his face against his broad chest as he sobs uncontrollably. Perpetua watches, sniffling himself and all but bolts over to the pair as Aether reaches an arm out for him. 

It feels strange. 

To stand and hug and cry with people he didn’t spend his life with, but still feel like family to some extent.

He’s not sure how long the two of them cry but he does know that they stop at the same time, just like they’d started at the same time. 

And he knows that they both simultaneously make the decision to hug each other and not just Aether, that they both feel the same level of comfort and hurt as they embrace each other. 

He’s never hugged Copia before. But he likes the feeling. 

They hold another funeral for Snowball. This time, Perpetua is invited and it’s just the three of them. 

He even gets to pick some flowers for the mausoleum. As he lays them down and speaks a few prayers, he feels two pairs of eyes, watching his back closely. 

It is not a comfortable feeling but still, it’s better than having Copia hate him. Much better. 

[v1b3ss]

✧A Dance of Synchrony and Solitude✧

♡Neuvillette x fem!reader♡

11:37pm-

Loud.

That's what it was. It was overwhelmingly loud and crowded. So many people, and yet here you were– standing alone by the bar with a glass of half-drank champagne in hand and anxiously observing.

You had been invited to Fontaine's grand ball only because Lady Furina insisted you come. For context, you had been enjoying your afternoon in the city when you spotted Lady Furina whining about something. Curious, you had gone over to see what the fuss was. After a bit of eavesdropping, you had discovered that Furina had left her money at home, therefore being unable to pay for her macaroni. You kindly paid for her and that's when she insisted you come to the ball later that night, so here you are.

You had been scanning the crowd all evening and still couldn't find Furina anywhere. You felt so out of place-- so awkward in this pompous event. Nobles, politicians, and other upperclassmen were present and you were but a mere botanist.

Where is she..? you couldn't help but ask yourself in your mind. It occurred to you that she was probably dealing with adoring fans in some other room of the grand estate.

With a sigh, you begrudgingly forced yourself to push off of the bar and leave your drink there as you went to find Furina. You awkwardly shuffled through people, muttering small, half-hearted apologies and mumbling "excuse me" a few times.

After successfully pushing through the mass of people and making it closer to the stage where a live orchestra was playing, you let out a sigh of relief.

Okay, you're away from people, you have a good view of the room, if you don't find her, the door is just to your left... you thought to yourself, looking around and over people's heads.

No sign of her anywhere...

Sighing once more, you decided to turn for the door when you spotted a figure with white hair and dark blue attire. Ah, that must be Furina!

With a wave of relief you pushed through people once more. You didn't exactly want to leave--this was a grand event. You were just lonely.

You squeezed through people who were rushing to approach the white-haired figure that was calmly walking away. The clamors of the crowd grew louder the closer you got to the figure, making you all the more anxious to reach Furina.

However, just as you were about to call her name, someone shoved you with an aggravated huff, causing you to collide with the person you had been following. Well-- who you thought you were.

You collided head-on with the person, quickly finding that that person was quite tall with a wide chest. You let out a small "oof" as your face was pushed into their chest before you took an unsteady step back.

A hand that was undoubtedly larger than your own swiftly and firmly caught you, holding up your back, pulling you back to your feet.

"Ah-- my apologies. Are you alright?" That was most definitely not Furina. Furina didn't have a deep velvety voice like that.

You were hoping that the person you had just bumped into was, in fact, not who you now thought it was. However, that voice was unmistakably known throughout all of Fontaine. Catching sight of the figure only confirmed your suspicions.

The Chief Justice, Neuvillette, was standing above you, lilac eyes staring at your own with a much friendlier gaze than that ever seen in court. Of course-- he still had that somewhat apathetic look to him. It was simply part of his character.

It suddenly occurred to you that you were staring at him like an idiot and had not answered his question yet. You cleared your throat and took a step back, keeping your head down as you sputtered out a response.

"Oh-- um...yes, I'm fine... thank you..!" You muttered awkwardly, tripping over your words. You could practically feel his sharp gaze directed towards you. You glanced up at him again before looking away into the crowd in the hopes that Furina would be here to save you from your embarrassment. The only thing you were met with were the jealous and envious stares of the citizens and elites around you.

Neuvillette noticed your anxious gaze and let out a small hum, acknowledging the fact that you were uncomfortable in the "spotlight," so to speak. He leaned down to speak to you a bit more privately.

"I assume you would like to stay out of the eyes of the public..? There's a private room here," he said quietly as your head snapped in his direction, staring at him in bewilderment. You hadn't expected him to get so close all of a sudden, especially after bumping into him.

You spoke with uncertainty, your response somewhat forced as you said, "I...wouldn't mind that... can we go now, please..?" You asked, feeling your stomach twist and your heart leap to your throat. There were so many people here and they all seemed to hate you.

Neuvillette, though bad at dealing with mortal emotions, understood that this entire ordeal was rather...overwhelming for you. He gently took your hand and used the other to wave over a few members of the Marechaussee Phantom, giving them a directive to keep the guests away as he softly tugged on your arm and led you away.

You were caught off guard by the sudden movement but followed nonetheless.

A few melusines kept the people at bay as you and Neuvillette disappeared into a dark hallway before turning into a room lit by candles and a fireplace. In one of the loft chairs you spotted another figure with white hair and blue clothing. Furina turned to see who had entered the room and her expression went from suspicion to delight.

"My, my, (Name)!! Neuvillette, how kind of you to bring me our esteemed guest!" She exclaimed with excitement, standing up and approaching you with a smile before hugging you. As she pulled back, she kept her hands on your shoulders and spoke to Neuvillette.

"This is the one I was telling you about! This lovely lady paid for my lunch, so the least I could do was invite such a kindhearted person to our ball."

Neuvillette nodded and hummed, his hand on the small of your back as you stood still, smiling awkwardly at Furina.

"Ah, yes...well, I'm here," you said with an uncertain chuckle. You were never one to be so awkward, but you had just met the Furina this afternoon, and literally had your face in the Chief Justice's chest but a few moments ago.

"(Name)..." Neuvillette repeated your name as if trying to recall if he had heard of you before. With a sigh, he then spoke again, this time, to you.

"Please-- have a seat. I insist," he said, using a hand to gesture to one of the sofas in the luxurious room. Furina nodded and smiled happily as she took your wrist and pulled you over to the sofa, sitting down and pulling you with her.

"Oh, (Name), I'm so happy that you showed up! When I didn't see you, I thought I might've been a little too pushy, but you're here, and that's what matters!"

You nodded along what Furina was saying, taking note of how Neuvillette took a seat across from the two of you and stared at you specifically.

While half-heartedly listening to Furina's ramblings to you, Neuvillette studied you. He felt as if he had seen you somewhere before..perhaps he had seen you in the paper once, or simply recognized you from a walk. Who were you, exactly?

-----------------------12:56am----------------------

After a much-needed break, you followed Neuvillette and Furina back out towards the ball. They said that you could stay with them for the remainder of the night, and for that you were thankful.

For Neuvillette, it was a convenience. He got to learn more about who this mystery woman was and what she was doing here. He wanted to know why Furina had taken such a strong liking to you, and this was exactly how he was going to do it.

Furina dragged you out onto the dance floor as she giggled mischievously. The smooth sounds of the violin and the deep notes of the piano along with the sounds of chellos, trumpets, and other various instruments of the orchestra reverberated through the ballroom as Furina guided you through the movements of the dance.

"No, no-- you're doing it all wrong! Here, it's like this, and then this, and then you kinda go like this..." Furina said, teaching you to dance which left you completely and utterly befuddled. What was all this for?

Furina, on the other hand, was quite happy with how things were going. She had a plan-- a good one. In order for this to work, she needed you to at least know the basics of dancing. If you tripped up, that was fine. As a matter of fact, it was even better.

Then, the slow dance came on.

Marvelous! I'm such a genius. She thought to herself as she glanced over at Neuvillette. She prompted him to come over, as if she had something she had to tell him.

When he stepped onto the floor, Furina pulled him towards you and spoke hastily. "My apologies, I have business with the governor. Neuvillette, be a gentleman and finish the dance with our esteemed guest, will you? It's rude to keep someone waiting, after all!"

Without waiting for a response, she rushed off through the crowd of people, leaving the two of you hand-in-hand.

Neuvillette was stunned for a moment, staring blankly at the space where Furina had run off to. He looked dumbfounded and felt just as perplexed as he appeared.

After a few seconds, he snapped out of it and looked at you apologetically, not knowing what to make of the situation. Luckily, he wasn't the only one feeling awkward. You just stood there, vision zeroed in on where he was holding both of your hands with his own.

You glanced up at him, hoping to be able to excuse yourself, but before you could get the words out of your already open mouth, the slow dance started up and people flooded into the dance floor.

The two of you looked rather surprised as people began to dance. This was when you realized that the only way to get out of this without causing a scene was to join the fray. Only one problem though-- you didn't know this waltz. Or any, for that matter. From the looks of it, Neuvillette seemed just as lost as you were. He too had no clue how to dance.

Seeing as how Neuvillette was seemingly stuck in one place, you took the initiative to pull him along with the rest of the guests, trying to find the correct timing. Luckily, the slow dance was just that: slow.

You attempted to spin with him, dragging him along with you as you copied the movements of other patrons. It didn't take long for Neuvillette to realize what you were doing and put in some effort as well. The two of you clumsily followed in the footsteps of the strangers who were your examples.

Little apologies were heard only between the two of you as you accidentally stepped on one another and maybe spun a little bit too fast.

While Neuvillette was typically a knowledgeable and collected man, he had no clue how to act in such an abrupt situation. He was, quite literally, dragged into this. It was so...out of the ordinary for him. He didn't know how to feel about it, but that wasn't a surprise. He struggled to comprehend human emotions. Give him a break, he's trying his best.

The dance ended just as quickly as it had started, and the two of you were both left rather embarrassed and befuddled. It was quiet, and you really didn't feel like speaking up. You had no idea what to say! Fortunately for you, Neuvillette stepped up this time and took the initiative to speak first.

"I apologize, I have never engaged in a waltz before..." he said rather quietly, hoping that you would be the only one to hear. His gaze was averted as he continued on. "I haven't had the time to learn before. Please excuse my profuse clumsiness."

Wow. Even while embarrassed, he still managed to be so gentlemanly and professional in his apology. What a cutie patootie.

You smiled gently at him and let out a huff of amusement as you replied. "No, no, it's more than okay. I had no clue what I was doing either," you stated honestly. It then occurred to you that the two of you were the only ones left on the dance floor and people were staring.

With a flushed face, you quickly scurried off of the floor, dragging Neuvillette along with you. After all, it's rude to just run off mid-conversation.

You towed the two of you along to the balcony of the grand estate, closing the large solarium doors behind you as you did so. You breathed out a sigh of relief and walked over to the edge of the balcony, happy to get both some fresh air and some space. Neuvillette was just as pleased.

His slow and hesitant steps were heard from behind you as he approached the railing of the balcony, albeit a few feet away from you as he placed his hands on it.

Silence ensued. The only noise was the muffled chatter of guests inside and the soft shuffling of leaves as they swayed in the breeze. It was nice...

After a good thirty seconds or so of complete, comfortable silence, you spoke up. "That was...unexpected. I think we were played," you stated with a huff of amusement.

Neuvillette looked over at you through the corner of his eye, curiosity and a hint of amusement evident in his gaze.

"Indeed... I do think that Lady Furina has decided to play cupid tonight," he said with a more relaxed tone. He had never had an encounter like this before, and the way the conversation so casually continued, even on such a bizarre topic, was refreshing to him. When he said that he was going to learn more about this "mystery woman," he was not expecting this...

You nodded and gave a long hum of agreement as you looked over the mountainous terrain of Fontaine. It was a clear night, and the moon was bright enough to illuminated both of your faces. Neuvillette looked rather ethereal with how the moonlight accentuated his pale complexion. However, if you were to ask him, he would feel the same about how the soft light bounced off of your skin.

He, who was inhuman in nature and struggled to comprehend the emotions of said humans, found himself rather...at peace. When was the last time he had felt as if he belonged? Especially within the presence of a mortal. Far too long, he concluded.

You spoke up once more, bringing Neuvillette back to reality and away from his desk thoughts. "Furina most definitely set us up...but I wonder why," you mused, the perplexion from the situation clear on your face.

Neuvillette hummed before speaking again, his low voice now holding a tone of curiosity within it. "Well, I do trust her judgement, to some extent... she has good intentions. She most always does, but I cannot help but question her choices from time to time," he admitted. You let out a small chuckle which, to his surprise, made him feel a tinge of happiness. How peculiar...

You let out a content sigh as a smile graced your lips. You glanced over at him for a moment with an amused smile, unaware of Neuvillette's pride in making you laugh as you proposed something. "This was fun... I think Furina knew what she was doing," you said as you turned your head back to the green landscape. "If you'd like, or if you have time, I'd like to meet up for lunch sometime. Maybe we can learn to dance properly for the next time an event comes up," you joked lightheartedly.

Neuvillette smiled softly and glanced over at you. How can a man, so infamous for being a cold, strict judge, look so soft and compassionate so suddenly?

"I do believe I would like that..."

-----------------------9:33am----------------------

The memories of the ball were fresh in your mind, even as you sorted through the small jars of herbs within your apothecary. As people entered your shop and browsed your wares, you noticed that a few stopped to stare and whisper.

That doesn't happen...

Eventually, after the fifth person stopped to chat with their friend, you turned around and gave them a confused yet somewhat annoyed expression as you crossed your arms.

"Is there something on my face? People have been whispering all day," you said with irritation clear in your tone of voice.

The people, rightfully surprised, looked at you with astonishment. After a few seconds of silence and wide-eyed staring, one of them spoke up.

"You don't know? People heard about last night," they said, pulling out a newspaper. You recognized it as The Steambird, the local newspaper of Fontaine.

Taking the newspaper with a small "thank you," you read over the front page. You were astonished to see a photo of you and Neuvillette on the balcony from last night. The headline you read made your face heat up in embarrassment.

"Monsieur Neuvillette and Local Botanist Mademoiselle (Name) seen at Fontaine's Grand Ball--Read for More Information!"

Handing the newspaper back to the pair that were in your shop, you thanked them quietly, even through your rather dazed state. They then made their purchases and left with a polite wave.

Not soon after, when you were checking your mail, you found an envelope. You hummed and looked at it with curiosity. It looked important. Wax seal on it, the emblem of Fontaine-- the whole nine yards.

Bringing it inside and sitting at your desk in the back, you opened it. You still had no clue who it was from, but you could tell that it was something from the Fontainian government with how regal and professional it looked. Not at all nerve-wracking. Last time you checked, you had paid all your taxes in time.

Upon opening it, you found polaroid photos of you and Neuvillette, again at the balcony, but from different angles and at different times. Shocked, you searched through them for any clues on why you were sent a legal document with pictures of the brief interaction you had with Neuvillette last night.

There was a small note inside with very elegant handwriting on it. You mentally gave appreciation to the person who wrote it. The note read, "Dearest (Name), I hope you enjoy your memorabilia from your first night at Fontaine's Grand Ball! Hosted by yours truly, of course. Please feel free to drop by any time for lunch! And please, let me pay. You covered last time, so I'll do it now! Consider this your free-lunch-with-Furina coupon. Hope to see you soon! -With love, Furina"

Ah...that made sense. Looking at the bottom, you found another small note.

"Also, I didn't take these pictures-- Charlotte did ♡"

If you were to guess, you'd say that Charlotte also wrote the story that just so happened to make the front page. Well, this will probably be good for business. Unless, of course, some crazy Neuvillette fanatic comes looking for you because you got attention for it...

With a sigh, you set the envelope down, and just as you did, what looked like a ticket fell out. Picking it up, you noticed that it was a reservation. A reservation for a very prestigious restaurant known here in Fontaine. A reservation for two, it said, and your name was listed alongside Neuvillette's. How convenient that it was listed as a couples' night.

Furina could be so mischievous at times, truly.

But oh well-- you would probably never forgive yourself if you didn't take such an opportunity. ♡

𓋼𓍊Hello everyone! I hope you enjoyed this. I've been getting back into writing, and have had this one in my drafts for a while. I haven't posted since 2024, so this is my first post of the year! Yes, late, I know, but hey-- I'm a busy gal. Please let me know if you'd like a continuation of this, and requests are always open! 𓍊𓋼

[thebibutterflyao3]

“Witchcraft”

@pandalilymicrofics - 987 words

part one - part two

**TW: very slightly NSFW (allusion to a sex dream)**

“Another one?” Lily said, pulling a small pink stone from her suit coat pocket. “Where are they all coming from?”

She smoothed her thumb over the polished surface of the rose quartz thoughtfully before adding it to the wonky, painted clay bowl of bits and bobs on her night stand. It had been two weeks, and she’d gathered nearly a dozen small pink stones from the pockets of her jackets, purse, and once, even tucked into her shoe. Lily pondered that last one for a good hour, completely befuddled.

At first, she’d found it amusing. A little mystery to entertain her. Searching on her phone, Lily found a number of natural healing and wellness websites that claimed that carrying rose quartz reduced stress, encouraged emotional healing and love, as well as a number of other benefits. There weren’t any negative side effects listed, so she chalked it up to someone wishing her well.

It had been an unusually stressful month with her new clients. The law firm who recently hired her didn’t seem capable of making a single decision. For a commercial interior designer, there was little she could do if they couldn’t even agree on a color scheme, let alone a style or layout.

Doctors were much easier to work with than lawyers, she decided. Doctors dashed out a quick list of must-haves without much thought and were thrilled with anything she added to it. Meanwhile, lawyers spun in circles debating with themselves or their firm’s partners, researching every design style to ever exist, only to opt for an “old world” look in the end.

Boring and predictable. Unlike this mystery.

Rose quartz. A rock that she’d never given any thought to was suddenly appearing in mass quantities every time she left her home. It didn’t make any sense. She didn’t see any one person that often, so how could they be slipping quartz into her pockets?

It was only on a deeper dive into the uses of rose quartz that she found a troubling connection. Rose quartz was used by the Romans as a “seal of ownership or possession.” That definition remained emblazoned on her mind thereafter. Is someone trying to claim ownership of me? Is it a type of witchcraft?

“Good luck with that,” she mused, shrugging off her suit jacket and hanging it in the closet. “If two husbands failed to keep me, I doubt a random crystal fanatic can.”

Just then, a loud whoop echoed down the hall. “Got it!” Harry must be home.

It was quickly followed by a soft giggle that definitely didn’t belong to her son, or one of his best friends. Harry hadn’t asked to have friends over, but Lily was used to finding Ron or Hermione hanging about. They were attached at the hip most days.

Curious, Lily wandered down the hallway as she removed her jewelry. It wouldn’t be the first time her fifteen year old son had invited a girl – other than Hermione – over, but it was the first time he hadn’t asked for permission first. At least, so far as she knew. With her ex-husband, James, as his role model, Harry wasn’t a stranger to stirring up mischief.

She leaned against the doorway to the sitting room and surveyed the scene. Harry was in the middle of the sofa with a controller in hand, his head jerking slightly from side as he played a racing game. On his right was Ron, who was goading him on. On Harry’s left, however, was a petite blonde girl twirling her finger in her hair and resting her head on Harry’s shoulder. As she watched, Harry whispered to her every so often, which made her giggle again.

A new girlfriend, already? I thought he was still hung up on Ginny?

Lily felt as though she was intruding, so she cleared her throat and asked, “Anybody hungry?”

Three heads swivelled to face her at once. Harry smiled and answered, “That’d be great, Mum!” Ron enthusiastically listed a dozen snack ideas. A book waved over Ron’s shoulder in greeting, signalling that Hermione was tucked under Ron’s arm, reading.

Then, the blonde girl turned and met Lily’s gaze with soft, unfocused eyes…in two different colours. One bright blue, one much lighter. Grey? Pale green?

“Oh, hello,” she said, smiling pleasantly. Her voice had a dreamy, breathless quality to it that surprised Lily. “You must be Harry’s mum.”

“Yes, I’m Lily. I don’t think I’ve seen you around before, have I?” Lily asked. She stepped into the room without intending to, drawn closer by an invisible force. “Yet, you look…familiar.”

The girl’s smile widened to an unnerving degree. “Ah, you’ve met my mum or uncle Evan then. We all have heterochromia.”

“No, I don’t think so.” Lily glanced upward as she continued removing her earrings, trying to remember where she’d seen someone similar. “What is your mum’s name?”

“Pandora.”

A flash of memory snatched the air from her lungs. Images replayed in her mind as vividly as if they’d actually happened, instead of coming from dreams. Warm, olive skin pressed against her own. Long, plaited golden hair created a curtain around the two of them as she leaned down for a kiss. Pandora.

Was her name Pandora? Had her eyes been two different colours? Lily couldn’t recall seeing the woman’s eyes in the dreams, which was odd. She normally thrived on eye contact during sex.

Lily blinked, then inhaled sharply. “Oh. I don’t think so? Never mind.” She floundered for a minute as she tried to push aside the images and refocus on her son. “What was I doing in here?”

“Snacks, mum,” Harry reminded her, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Right, snacks.”

It wasn’t until she was in the kitching, dumping party mix into a bowl, that it hit her. Lily hadn’t even asked for the girl’s name. Surprised at herself, Lily planted both hands on the kitchen bench with a smack. What on Earth was going on?

[aloesarchives]

Domestic Headcanons w/ Mama!Reader and the Fushiguros #2.5: Teen!Mayumi (OC)

TW/Warnings: Domesticity, AFAB/Female Reader, Family life, unhinged crack, JJK OC(but not main x Reader), tons of swearing, Mayumi is truly a Gen Z kid

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader

Pronouns/Usage: She/Her, Mama/Mom

So, it's been awhile since I've actually posted anything. College, projects, life in general fuck my ass up frfr. On top of that, I got really bad writer's block and being burnt out. I've been spending time with family and friends and it's been giving me motivation to write again. So I'm trying to finish my long wips before my winter break ends!

I also made reference pics of Mayumi for anyone who's curious on what she would look like. These pics of Mayumi were based on my appearance since she's an self-insert combination of me and Toji lol. I had to work with what I got to visualize her. If you has questions or wanna ask more about her, feel free to drop an ask in my inbox!

(Credits to the creators of the photo generators from Piccrew and Storior. I didn't create the generators but used them to create these pics)

Preteen!Mayumi:

Teen/Highschool!Mayumi:

Mayumi wasn’t a menace or a problematic child. Nothing was too extreme that required strict parenting. As she grows up, she’s not as rebellious as you imagined. She only talks back to Toji, never you. But even then, she’s setting her boundaries up and setting herself up. 

She’s in her own little world, doing her own thing. A go-getter if you will.

Only taking after the green eyes of your hubby, she is a mini version of you through and through. Performing well and evolving into an academic weapon of mass destruction. School has never been an issue for her or will be in the future. She is a competitive person at heart but stays humble as much as she can. She most definitely does Kendo, Kyūdō, and Karuta. You and Toji always go to her competitions. She’s always on the podium in first place. She’s only good because Toji’s the only one who has the physical prowess to match. And Toji doesn’t go easy on her during their training. But your daughter is grateful that her Papa supports her interests and wants her to succeed, which proves your point that you made the right choice in choosing a husband and father for your children.

But Mayumi in her teen years, she turns a complete 180 and becomes a mini Toji. A menace. 

She isn’t a bully nor picks on others. It’s the other way around, she is fully beefing with egotistical kids that think they’re all that and can do anything. Her reasoning is quite interesting because she’s trying to show them that the stuff they pulled off wouldn’t slide in the real world. She’s helping them out because the stuff they pulled can be digging their own graves if they mess with the wrong people. The bullies jump her off-school grounds and after school hours, too bad it leads them to either having a bruised complex, pride, or straight up CTE.

She never fought in school, no never. That's after-school activities for her. Even if that were to happen and you and Toji had to be called down, the only thing that matters to Toji is whether or not Mayumi won. But the answer is always the same, which is yes. That’s you as well but you had to be the reasonable parent in the situation. If any of the parents of the bullies trifle with you, you can pull your connection cards on them and it shuts them up good.

“Oh, you think your threats scare me? Bold of you to assume I could feel shaken by someone like you. It’s not like your company violated several labor and wage laws, or your money embezzlement affairs? Hm?”

Once she got to high school at Jujutsu Tech, no one wanted to shit on her because they all know they’ll get boxed up by her after hearing the things she’s done to people that tried her.

She never explained how she controls her impulses. She credits her strong will power but you remember your husband is Toji. And with that, you know her sudden urges to do something reckless/impulsive are watched under the supervision of her father. You know this because one day you saw her long jump over the koi pond in the backyard of your home. She cleared it with perfect form and footing. You’re dead when Toji starts teaching her optimal forms and techniques so she could have a higher vertical and be nimble in the air like he is. 

She isn’t a trouble-maker. She’s not as reckless or impulsive like others around her age. You ask her why she doesn’t participate in day adventures or nightly escapades. She said most of her friends have curfews and can’t be out late. All of them have different routines so it’s hard to find time to hangout on the weekends. Mayumi also said she doesn’t know what’s lurking at night and wants nothing to do with it. And She knows Toji will know whether she snuck out at night. But she doesn’t want to cause you and Toji any trouble so she either doesn’t get into trouble at all or does but it’s a situation she knows she can easily handle herself.

She is a certified Zen’in hater and the most vocal about it too. She really doesn’t acknowledge that half of herself and purposely avoids talking about them in a familial matter. 

She is definitely stealing Toji’s old clothes and adding them to her wardrobe. The jackets he doesn’t wear anymore? She stole them and is a part of her wardrobe. She says she is repurposing them when she really wants them. 

Most of her teen years were filled with K-pop, her aesthetic is Y2K for sure. The staples of her closet are cargo pants, those long retro denim skirts, oversized t-shirts and jackets.

Because Shui sometimes visits Korea for business, Mayumi is always asking him for a TWICE, New Jeans, or BTS vinyls. She gets him all three in her room on display and plays them when she wants to chill out in her room.

Mayumi likes to spend time with Maki, Mai, and Nobara. Trains with Maki alongside Toji. No wonder Mayumi is so good at fighting. She was literally taught by PEAK.

The sibling banter, oh my god. “Mom, get this Emo kid off his ass and tell him I need him to come with me to watch a movie!” “Why me? Can’t you ask Tsumiki or your friends?” “Ugh, because my friends are busy and Tsumiki-Nii won't come home until after her club. Plus, you’re not doing anything right now and today’s our weekly sibling bonding time!” Megumi groans and grumbles before getting up off the couch and grabbing his wallet. Or her saying, “Gumi-Nii, this is why you got no maidens” when Megumi told her to leave him alone when she went into his room to bother him. 

Megumi has to deal with her as he is the main victim of her antics. Getting teased and roasted endlessly. He knows everyone's footsteps and knows who coming. That's only because he needed to recognize when Mayumi is coming and needs to mentally prepare himself when interacting with her. This is what happens when Mayumi got your looks but Toji's personality.

Begs Megumi to bring out his shikigamis so she can take pictures of/with them. Putting silly accessories on them like bows and hair clips. She puts hats on his divine dogs or take pictures of them at funny angles.

Don’t get me started on her inheriting Toji’s shit talking and banter. Her snide remarks and roasts are creative and out of worldly that Toji takes mental notes. Prime example, upon learning Toji and Satoru’s “shared past”, her insult library grew. “Dad, I don’t wanna hear anything from you! I’m talking to the same man who had beef with a bunch of high schoolers because his pockets were itching!” Turns to you “Can’t believe you looked at this and thought, ‘Oh, I’m definitely gonna make him my husband and the father of my future kids.’” You raised an eyebrow at her when you looked up from your laptop, “Mayumi, Dearest, you can’t be saying that. If I never gave that man a chance, you, Megumi, and Tsumiki wouldn’t exist. Besides, if it wasn’t for me, your Papa would be seeing a Michael Jackson concert or be at a Tupac meet and greet right now.” On second thought, maybe she got the shit talking from you too.

Continuing on the previous thought, Mayumi will say the most out of pocket, unhinged, crazy type of insults and curses you will ever hear. A prime example of this was during the Tokyo-Kyoto exchange event in Mayumi’s first year Jujutsu Tech. It was a 1v1 tournament between the Kyoto and Tokyo students. Mayumi’s opponent happened to be a third year student from the Zen’in clan. As you were watching from the sidelines with Toji, you couldn't help but notice Mayumi’s expression. She was locked in and basically mean-mugging them. Any and all insults were brushed off and unfazed. As she expected, your daughter knew her distant relative would pick her a part for being a celestial restricted user and not having any curse energy. As the fight went on, Mayumi was getting annoyed. Not because her opponent was hard, oh no not that. She was annoyed by the fact her opponent was all bark and no bite. Like her opponent was legit trying but it wasn’t enough for her. She could’ve easily ended the match, Toji and you knew that from the start, but she wanted to hold out in case her fight would get interesting. Alas, it didn’t and Mayumi was disappointed as hell. As she would put it, she’s related to frauds. Her opponent was yapping away with the classic “You got lucky” and “this isn’t my full power” shit. Now she’s just getting mad that her opponent was absolute garbage. Her opponent said something that you couldn’t quite make out, but Toji did as he let out a huff. You guessed it set off Mayumi because she stared them with the iconic Toji glare, clenched fists and teeth, and said “Choke on my dad’s dick and get pegged by my mom, you damn fraud!” Then proceeds to give that Zen’in the most devious combo imaginable, it connected so well it would be a perfect score in any fighting game. The fight was over with the obvious winner being Mayumi. But you and Toji, stunned for a solid five seconds before bursting out in laughter. For as vulgar and out of pocket your daughter was for saying that, it was creative. Toji even had tears in his eyes because he was dying of laughter but also how proud he was of Mayumi. That combo was crispy and only his daughter could do something like that.

She is so much like Toji that when she was fighting a Zen’in member(s) (99% Naoya), she locked in and did a pose. She had this look in her eyes and her grin was done in a way that’s almost primal. Then everything clicks and she’s giving them flashbacks because she’s giving TOJI AURA. She’s reminding them of Toji and piecing them up like her Pops. As Mayumi likes to put it, she’s running it back to her papa. The get back on the Zen’in clan for Toji. And she fucking delivers, ate that shit up and left no crumbs behind. She’s infamously known to be compared to Toji in the Jujutsu world but she wears that shit with pride and honor. “Disrespect my papa, then I’ll give you guys that generational fade that even your descendants will feel the secondhand embarrassment that you’re their ancestors. Straight up Frauds.”

Forces Toji to take selfies with her. Just a teenage daughter dragging her dad around. She’s just a girl, your dearest daughter, just dragging your 6’1 boulder of a husband around. Doing those drink dates and posting them. 

Okay, in my Modern/Toji Lives Au, since Shui doesn’t dip out and go under the radar he has a presence in the kids' lives. Every Time he’s over, he and Toji are yapping away at each other. Every time Mayumi is about to go out, she stops by and greets Shui and Toji before leaving. Usually she would be out the door when she has to go somewhere but there’s always a five minute gap. Turns out, she waits for Shui to give her cash and leaves with at least  29,000 Yen(close to $200 US). Watching this unfold is sometimes jarring because your husband and his friend at one point in time wretched havoc in the Jujutsu/underground world. Now, they’re just two older guys, chilling on the engawa of your home, and having a drink.

Mayumi is running Satoru’s pockets. Gifts, money, anything you name it, he’s getting her something. Satoru told you that as the unofficial oldest child and brother, it’s his job to get gifts and provide some financial incentive to his younger siblings. Since this is voluntary for Satoru, Mayumi is taking full advantage of it. When Mayumi got to that age, Satoru even offered to pay for schooling if she wanted to go to college/university or study abroad. Toji felt a bit insulted with how Satoru was casually flexing his wealth right in front of him. But Toji being the guy with an eye for better deals, he’ll silently let Satoru spurge on Mayumi if it meant he didn’t have to spend a single dime on her.

Ends up having a popular social media presence because she went viral from a post that had you and Toji in it. It was caption with something like "I want what they have/ Why my standards in love are so high" and it's you and Toji doing domestic stuff with Toji having this loving look on his face and you giving him a soft tender expression.

She doesn’t take her account seriously and just posts fun stuff or things for shits and giggles. Probably makes Toji do trends with her or takes videos of him doing mundane things around the house that got netizens foaming at the mouth. Then netizens start foaming at the mouth and become rebid when they find out about you. Doing a mom reveal and people were asking in the comments your skincare/makeup routine, making barking noises, etc. Then she does a family reveal where she includes Megumi and Tsumiki and people say the most unhinged things.

“You guys need a table? I can be a table for you guys”

“If yall need a chair, I’m the best chair to sit on. I can hold everyone.”

“Bro, please, save some for the rest of us! Like, let me have a fighting chance! Please!”

It gets worse when she posts a picture or video of her hanging out with Satoru, Suguru, or Nanami.

When Mayumi reveals both you and Toji’s ages, she did a video of your secrets while you say something sweet and practical like family and dropping your skincare routine then there’s Toji’s portion of the video. Toji just says: “My wife” and that’s it, does not elaborate on it. When Mayumi presses on, Toji responds “Your mom, Mayumi. I mean, do I need to say anything else because I legit got nothing else, Sweetheart.”

She does those livestreams to answer questions, you sometimes watch them when you’re away from home. They make you feel better and you do get a laugh out of them. 

Mayumi doing a livestream: “How old is my dad–? Too old for you all! And he’s married! shows a picture of you in the livestream Married! He’s taken! So stay away from my father! Stay away from my father, guys!”

Did a livestream with you and Toji and the amount of time Mayumi had to chastise Toji because the stuff he says will get her banned is hilarious and you are just watching the carnegie unfold right before you.

She did one livestream with her friends doing the hear me out challenge. And one of them pulled out Toji’s picture and put it on the brownie cake. Mayumi: “gasps! That’s my dad! Why the hell did you guys put my dad in!?” It gets worse when her other friend puts a picture of you in there too. Everyone was laughing while Mayumi was straight up flustered and stressed. Poor girl, she doesn’t need to be reminded that everyone wants to bang her parents.

Mayumi begged you to do that trend where daughters put their mothers in their style/clothes. That post was a hit but Toji wasn’t home for that. So when she made a post of Toji’s reaction to the post where you’re wearing Mayumi’s Y2K clothing, it was a hit too. That’s because as Mayumi sends him the post and he watches the post on his phone, Toji watches the video before looking up at Mayumi, with her phone pointed at him, and saying, “You want a younger sibling, Mayumi?” And she lets out a scream that was perfectly cut at the end of the video. 

Toji definitely spends the most time with her, they are very close to each other. They vibe on another level that you know you can’t even get. You’re aware she confides about anything and everything to you but always goes to Toji first since he’s more empathetic of her situations and what she goes through.

She’s the extrovert of the family (if you weren’t already one) but spending time and being near her is fun and entertaining. Mayumi is the apple to everyone’s eye but knows when to be strong and stand ten toes when she needs to be. She’s still a kind, considerate, and compassionate person. She’s just more outspoken now that she’s a teenager and she’ll stand on that. She’s a wonderful mix of you and Toji and is a certified Gen Z kid who loves her parents and siblings.

Taglist:

@luqueam @ploylulla @tqd4455 @wolywolymoley @captainbabybear @ravenswife @tqd4455 @k-kkiana

Taglist(w/o links):

@szillx @SleppyAnn @g0th1xac1d @kneelarhmstrung

[buggy-samaaa]

Touching his neck...stump. yep. Smut. Non-con? IDK THIS IS WEIRD

---

You had been babysitting Buggy's head lately, and the two of you had hit it off. Buggy flirted incessantly, and you returned the flirts just as much, to the detriment of the rest of the crew's sanity.

One day, you asked Buggy an interesting question.

"Can you feel your ... um. I'm not sure what to call it. The stump? Of your neck."

Buggy raised an eyebrow. "Well, yeah, it's part of my body, duh."

You were still curious about it. "It looks really smooth. Can I touch you there?"

Buggy tried to squirm away as you reached out for him. "Wha-- No!! That's weird!"

"Why?? Does it tickle or something? C'mon, let me touch!"

Buggy tried to hop back with the momentum of his head turning, but he ended up falling and presenting the stump to you. "Ah, shit," he muttered. "This is not permission! I'm simply in an unfortunate position! Lift me up, now!"

It was eerily smooth, the stump. So perfectly flat. Surely it felt like skin, but it looked rubbery? You wondered if it would feel slippery like a sting ray.

"You're doing a lot of not-helping right now," Buggy said, trying to roll and get a look at you, but he just managed to fall sideways and squish his cheek against the table. "Ow! Babe I'm serious, don't touch me there."

You inched forward, still sorely tempted by the wiggling mass.

"Hey-- HEY--" Buggy started shouting as your flat palm got closer to his neck stump. "WAIT WAIT WAIT--"

It was too late, you had already pressed your palm against him. It WAS slippery. And soft, but it had no give to it. Like touching, well, a stump of a tree, but it was... flesh. It was quite possibly the strangest thing you'd ever touched. Then you realized that Buggy had gone silent for once.

Buggy was biting his lip, hard, eyes squeezed shut. You blinked and pulled your hand away, which caused him to release his breath and open his eyes. "Okay, you've had your fun, now get me up."

"What does it feel like?" You asked, still ignoring his request.

"If I answer, will you PLEASE set me upright?"

"Yes."

Buggy searched for the words. "It's like... I have a wound, and someone pushed their hand inside of it and felt around. But it doesn't hurt. Just feels... super unsettling." He shuddered, remembering the sensation. Buggy waited for you to pick up his head and replace it on the table, but you weren't moving to do so. "...Babe?" he said tentatively. Then he gasped involuntarily when you set two fingers against his stump. "C'mon, you promised--" he was cut off by another gasp when you slowly caressed it. "Baby, you gotta stop," he begged, getting slightly pink in the face.

"It seems like... you kinda like it," you say with surprise. "Is that true?" You run your thumb along the edge slowly. Buggy made a high-pitched sound and shuddered, growing pinker.

"N-No!" he said unconvincingly. But he let out a little moan when you ran your knuckles across the skin. Then he felt your hair tickle his neck as you got close, on your knees in front of the table. "Oh, God," he mumbled, sweating, and he swallowed hard.

You hesitated before you leaned in and breathed against his stump.

"Oh, God oh God oh God," Buggy kept mumbling, starting to pant.

You pressed a soft, slow kiss against the center of his stump.

"Ffff--Fuck--" Buggy said thickly, almost wheezing.

Then you licked it, a long stripe ending in another sweet kiss.

Buggy's tongue lolled out of his mouth as it opened wide with a strangled moan. "Ah--Babe--Please--" he cried, breathing shakily.

Suddenly, the doorknob squeaked. Buggy let out a relieved groan when you quickly stood and placed his head upright where it had been before. Sanji walked in with a smile. His smile faltered when he realized how heavily both of you were breathing, and he noticed your red faces and lack of eye contact. Sanji backed up to the door, opened it again, and left the room awkwardly.

"He knows!" Buggy hissed at you.

"As if he could ever guess!" You hissed back. "He probably thought we were just kissing!"

"Yeah, 'cause I get covered in sweat when I kiss somebody," Buggy spat back at you sarcastically. "Either he knows, or my reputation as a make-out magician has gone completely out the window."

You both sat in seething silence for a moment. "It did feel good though, didn't it?" you asked with a mischievous smile.

Buggy pouted and turned his head away as much as he could. "Once I get my body back, you're gonna wish you'd never tried anything."

"Don't threaten me with a good time. I'll do it again and more, just you wait."

[skyeslittlecorner]

Hi! I love the way you write the characters and your hcs and scenarios are fun to read (even if the angst in the MC disappearing thing tore my heart out)!

So... May I request some headcanons about Satan's reaction to the MC being excited when they find out he has a monster form? Like, begging him to let them see it, complimenting him, cooing about how cool, strong and hot he looks even as a monster, etc...

Thank you, dear! Again sorry you had to wait so long for my response- I love that demons are shapeshifters. I wonder what the demonic forms of other kings look like, hope we will see and maybe fuck them one day.

Satan transforms into his demonic form much more often than you think. Every Thursday, more or less. That's when - what a coincidence! - he has business meetings with Mammon. Under the pretext of entertaining you, every time you are taken far out into the city by the nobles. You were really curious about what these "meetings" were like, so you tried various tricks. Once, you pretended to be asleep, hoping that no one would wake you up, and you would be able to spy. The second time, you had "food poisoning" and couldn't go far from the room, but they quickly discovered your trick. You even tried to pretend that you got lost while walking and ended up back in the palace by accident, but Sitri's sensitive ears wouldn't let you go even a few meters away.

You were walking around the palace, but this time through main corridors, angry as a wasp. Satan himself came to you, feeling that sweet, sweet rage. He wanted to know what brought you to such a wonderful state.

"Are you that curious?" He roared with laughter. "All you had to do was ask."

The angelic white silhouette took a step back. A shadow enveloped him. The puff of smoke grew and gained mass, forming powerful muscles, thick fur and curled horns. From below, all you could see was a toothy muzzle, smiling in a strange grimace.

"That's what they didn't want to show you."

You stood with your head stretched upwards, and your jaw dropped to the ground. Satan folded his arms across his chest.

"You look... incredibly…"

The horned head tilted.

"Incredibly scary?"

"Incredibly good."

You caught him off guard when you went to pet his clearly outlined six-pack. Now you had a demon of flesh and blood in front of you. The masculine scent mixed with a trace of sulfur. Satan, amused by your delight, took you in his arms. To hold on better, you buried your hands in his ruffled mane.

“You’re still my favorite king.” You kissed him on the face. “Maybe even more so now…” The guttural growl that escaped his throat sent your entire body into resonance. Satan was still Satan. And the more body, the more fun. The most interesting thing that came to your mind was whether grabbing him by the horns would work on both his human form and that big mastiff. You let your intrusive thoughts win. After he growled and tightened his grip, you was sure it worked. Since you had the chance, you were going to try a few other things as well. Especially since Satan didn’t seem to mind at all…

[emotionallyattachednerd]

Eternal Soul | IDW Rodimus/Hot Rod x f!human reader | NSFW 18+

Word count: 3500+

Warnings: Smut ( oral, sex, size difference and first time ) and robot on human. NSFW 18+.

Notes: Don't mean to sound creepy, but I enjoy the virgins. Something fun about first timers. Thanks @lonetile for sending through. Sorry for the wait. Once again, like many times before, I went a little crazy with the length of this. Hope you all enjoy. 🥰

☕ Coffee

Being the only human on the Lost Light crew was very exciting, but also hard, though you managed to find some sort of adjustment over time and to fit in with the new species. There is something though that has been on your mind, and you wish you got it done and over with before leaving earth.

You're still a virgin.

The last thing you want is to be a forty year old virgin, not that you were close to that age, but you didn't know just how long you were going to be away or if you were ever going to return to earth. It made you feel weird, and you wish you just hooked up with someone just to get the deed done.

Everyone was great, big, but allowed you to fit in. Each one has their own personality, different characters, but only one stood out. Rodimus is quite the charmer, silly, very flirty with you, and you find yourself falling for his charms.

At first you took it as his type of character, it's how he speaks to a lot of people, but over time you realise the tone difference when he's around others or around you, it's more smoother, husky even.

You never even imagined to be attracted to another species, yet here you are, almost drooling over the sight of Rodimus. Then it happens, he invites you back to his quarters, to talk more in private.

It gets more difficult though when he suddenly downsizes himself. Still large, but closer to your size. Apparently their species can do this and they call it mass displacement. The very sight of him like this gives you very sexual ideas but you force yourself to put these in the vault, for now at least.

Another thing that surprises you is the amount of comforts and silks he has on his berth. You didn't think his species had such things, then again you're still learning about them. More things will probably surprise you along the way.

"Are you alright? You look uncomfortable?" You're snapped out of your thoughts when you hear Rodimus speak right beside you, and you realise that you've been quiet, you probably look so stupid.

"Oh! I'm fine..."

"Sure, you look completely fine." Rodimus chuckles lightly. Damn that laugh. "Come on, you can tell me anything. I promise to keep all your deepest and darkest secrets to myself." He sends you that upturn charming smirk.

"Yeah, right." You can't help but snort softly through your gentle laughter before clearing your throat nervously. "Just...alright, look, you've been really nice to me the moment I arrived, helped me fit in and even spent time with me. You're...nice."

"What can I say? I'm a terrific guy!" He sits with his legs spread wide, cool guy style, helm tilted and optics directly on you. Jesus Christ.

"Is there a real reason you've been nice to me?" You cross your legs, sitting comfortably on the comforts under you.

"Do I need a reason?" He quickly adds on. "Well, I'm curious about you, don't meet many humans, and I find you rather cute." Its time for you to blush. He chuckles noticing this. "Ah! Even cuter when you get that hue going. Guess my charms truly work on you."

"You have no idea..." You murmur, and finally, you ask. Fuck it. "Sorry if this is weird, but I was wondering, does your species have sex?"

"Yeah!" He chuckles, answering as if it was nothing. "We call it 'interfacing' though. Why do you ask? Do you want to fool around?" There it is again, that husky tone.

"I-I mean...maybe?"

"Great! Let's get it going then!" He's suddenly on top and presses you down onto the comforts, about to kiss you but you stop him.

"Wait" You push against his chassis, panting heavily, slowly trying to recover from what just happened.

"Oh, sorry, too much? Thought we were both wanting the same thing? Or is there a weird human thing I don't know about?" Rodimus rambles as he sits up and gives you a little more space.

"I do! I-I do want that, but there's something you need to know about first, and I don't know how you're going to react."

Rodimus narrows his optics, watching them drift down and up your body. "Are you secretly a male? Because if you are, I'm totally cool with that."

You stare at him, baffled. "What? No, no I'm not. Jesus, don't you have any limits?"

"Not really." He sounds so proud of himself, making you giggle lightly.

"Alright, well, you should know that...I'm a virgin."

Now that's something he wasn't expecting, and ends up staring at you blankly through widen optics. The lingering silence makes you anxious and you meet his gaze, only to notice something in his face. "That turns you on, doesn't it?" Of course it does.

"It very much does. Sure, I've claimed some virgins in my time, but never a human, so I feel pretty damn lucky right now." He hovers over you closely, that charming upturn smirk plastered across his face.

Your nerves slowly start boiling up through you. Sure, you want this, but you are still agitated and processing what you are feeling. You weren't oblivious when it came to sex, you've watched porn, and some friends from earth have told their experiences.

"Scared?"

"A little." You admit through a shy murmur. That spunk is gone from him.

"Listen. I don't want you to feel pressured, so if you want to stop we can. But if we continue, I promise to go slow, whatever pace you want. I'm rather skillful so you've got the best offer here for you." All that smugness is gone and he's being all tender and caring. He understands you're nervous, and is being a real gentleman now.

This is happening, you don't want to back out.

"Alright, I trust you." You manage to answer through your shaky voice.

Rodimus is going to show you the best time possible, leaving no regrets and you only wanting to lay with only him. "Let's try this again."

He leans down again and this time you let him kiss you. It's soft and warm, not what you imagined kissing a robot would feel like, it's oddly delightful, and you lean into the kiss slowly, moving your hand up to caress his cheek.

You feel his glossa running across your lips before dipping between them, coiling with your tongue and letting out a low moan against you. There's a warm metallic taste coming from him, but there's a sweetness in it, surrounding your taste buds and causing you to moan softly in return. Sure, you've kissed guys before, but nothing compared to this kind of kiss. It was very sexual, needy, yet calm.

His servos observe over your body against your tight fitted clothes, sneaking under to touch your warm skin. He breaks apart from the intense kiss, letting out heated vents as optic downcast across your body curiously. "So, maybe you could help me out? Not used to these clothes you wear, kind of new to me."

"Alright." You're still nervous but bottle it up as you proceed to remove your clothes. First your tights, then your tank top, leaving you in your undergarments. Rodimus tilts his helm curiously at you, watching you remove your clothes slowly as he admires every inch of your soft body.

Unhooking your bra you can't help but hold it against your breasts for a moment before finally letting it drop. Then you slip out of your undies, kicking them aside and leaving you baren naked for him. You're flushed, heart hammering, feeling very exposed in his lustful optics, watching them glow brightly against you.

Silently he crawls closer, servos running up against your hip and up over towards your breast. Feeling his soft padded digits against them makes your breath hitch and nipples perk out from the contact.

"So soft." You hear him say through a gentle tone. "These can be played with, right?"

"Yeah..." You can't help but flush in embarrassment, earning an upturn smirk from him.

"I bet you've touched yourself plenty of times." His words cause you to stutter silently, earning a snicker from him. "You're so cute when you blush. Don't worry, I'll take very good care of you."

You find yourself laying down again on your back, Rodimus hovering over your naked body as he skillfully touches you all over, focusing on your breasts as he massages them before leaning over to gently drag his glossa against your perk nipple.

This causes you to arch your back, a surprised gasp leaving you, feeling nothing but the buzzing electric pleasure that rocks through your body. He likes your reaction, smirking smugly at her before taking the whole nipple into his mouth.

A lavish moan erupts from you as he does this, humming around your delicate nipple while circling his glossa around the bud, sucking as if he was a hungry baby. You feel his servo drift down between you both and touch your inner thigh making your skin quiver in delight. You then feel his digit glide up across your soft curls and against your pussy. A sudden shame tightens in your chest and he feels your body tense up, making him stop his movements and let go of your nipple with a slick pop.

"Is this alright?" He proceeds to place a kiss against your shoulder as her shifts himself back up a little. The tender contact makes you give him a bashful smile.

"Yeah. I just...don't want you to think I'm weird and hairy." You don't shave often, seeing no point, but you don't want to feel grossed out by you.

"Nah, not even close. You're an exotic beauty, gorgeous, and you have a seductive vibe that is really making me hot." He sends you a playful smirk. "So, can I continue?"

He's not your average guy, not in the slightest, but you think that's what makes this a little better to relax yourself. He's not one to judge, but to enjoy himself and make sure you have a good first experience. All you can answer with is a nod, and he continues, moving down across your body.

His warm kisses trail down lightly, across your breasts, stomach, moving between your thighs causing your breath to hitch from the tingling contact. His servos smooth against your hips and up over your waist, mouth lingering and heated vents hitting your very core, feeling his lascivious optics looking at you for just a short moment, before you feel his servos spread your thighs wider and his digits parting your pussy lips.

A jittery gasp escapes, feeling yourself exposed makes your body fidget slightly. Sure, you've touched yourself before, but no one has ever touched you like this.

"What a pretty tight flower you have." Rodimus whispers seductively, his dentas nibbling at his lower lip while he admires your fleshy pinkness, so much like a valve much to his delight. It means he knew exactly what to do with you. Leaning closer he gently drags his glossa between your folds and across your sensitive clit, letting out a groan that rumbles from his chassis.

A surprised whine erupts from you feeling him do this, so little yet with a strong reaction, it feels intensely good.

“Oh, I love that sound you make.” He drips out lustfully through a smug smile. "I can't wait to hear what other sounds I'll hear from you." He then moves forward again, nuzzling his mouth against your pussy and starts to lap at you slowly and eagerly, drawing out your sweet juices as you crane your neck back against the comforts and let out short blissful whimpers.

His glossa rolls between your folds before feeling it dip into your tight entrance causing your breath to hitch, mewling softly as he starts to feast upon your pussy and lap at your sweet dew all for himself.

Your hands grip at the comforts you lay under, eyes fluttering close as you spread your thighs more for him, melting under his erotic touches and glossa. This is so much mroe different than touching yourself, it's a thousand times better, a growing pleasure you've never felt before. You love it, every second of it.

Rodimus lets out a lingering moan against you, craving your sweet juices leaking constantly for him, drinking up everything you give him as your hips shimmy under his servos, moving in sync with his glossa.

His lips suddenly latch onto your clit and he sucks hard, causing you to mewl aloud as shivers through your body. Rapid pulses rush through you over again, eyes screwed shut as your mouth hangs open with lingering moans.

Suddenly, he stops, making you pout and causing him to chuckle lightly. "Oh don't worry, I'm not going to leave you hanging for too long." He moves back up and kisses you smoothly, tasting yourself at his lips and feeling his digit prob at your entrance before he pushes in your tight depths.

A whined hiss leaves you against his lips, the stretch is new and you are not used to it, but you try to relax by spreading your legs more and letting your body adjust to his exploring digit curling gently against your inner walls.

"So tight." He says as if he was praising you. "Frag, it's going to be a snug fit for my spike. Getting me really riled up here." Your cheeks bloom red hearing his words tickle against your ear.

"Just...please be gentle." You are worried it's going to hurt a lot, even though you're so aroused, you're still nervous about what is about to happen.

"I'll be gentle, don't you worry. You're soaking wet, so my spike should glide in with ease." He assures you before adding a second digit, stretching you further a little.

Your breath hitches but the pain wasn't so bad as you clench around him, hips moving slightly with his slowly pumping digits as he sucks at your tits again, letting out eager moans against you while you arch your chest up against his warm mouth latched onto you.

"Fuck." You breathe out through a moan, eyes closed as you lick your lips ambition.

Rodimus smiles against your nipple before letting out and gazing up at you. "Oh I love these babies, they are so soft and sensitive. I just want to bury myself in them."

Hearing this causes you to giggle tenderly through your growing arousal. "Yeah? Well, you can play with them whenever you like."

You say it before you think about it, however, he lets out a proud grin. "I was hoping you would say that. For now though, I want to make you mine, and claim your innocence."

There's a sound that confuses you, like metal shifting, then you feel something long and warm running up against your inner thigh causing your breath to hitch before glancing down.

There in plain sight was his cock, or his spike as he would call it, and you can't help but swallow thickly at the size of him. He's so thick! Bumpy ridges cascaded along his length, red luminous lines surrounding, and pink fluids leaks from his twitching tip, running around his spike to drip down onto the berth. You didn't even realise you've been staring so long and hear his playful snickers.

"Am I truly that impressive?" He leans closer as he asks this, caressing your cheek as his spike rests against your pussy.

"Yeah." You admit through a bashful smile. "You're rather big. Will you fit?" You can't help but question.

"I'm sure I'll fit. I have no doubt that you'll be able to accept my spike in your tight body. So, shall I pursue?"

All you can do is nod for your answer, feeling his lips against your own again as you rub your hands over his shoulders, a way to distract you as he positions himself and pushes into your tight entrance.

It's happening. You feel his pulsing length invade your heated core until he is met with resistance, lifts your leg up against his hip before pushing more firmly, and you feel the sharp pain snap through you.

You're no longer a virgin.

The pain wasn't so terrible but it does sting and ache still, feeling him going slow as he pushes further in, feeling his ridged spike pulsing rapidly through your channel while he kisses you slowly and passionately. You moan, both pain and pleasure, and he groans in return while his glossa coils eagerly with your tongue.

Rodimus is now pressed firmly against your pussy, fully imbedded, as he keeps still to savour your tightness clenching around him. You feel so full, which causes you to move your hand down between you bodies and your breath hitches when you feel a bulge against your lower belly caused by his vast spike throbbing in you. He does the same to meet your hand and feels it, making him break the kiss and lets out a lazy grin through his flaming arousal.

"See? You took all of me so well. You're so tight, can feel everything in you, feels fragging, wonderful, tightest valve I've ever had. Are you doing alright?" To hear him ask was kind of him.

"I'm alright..." You whimper out softly. "Please, fuck me, I want to feel it all."

"Have it all you shall have, darling." He says before he starts to move, pulling out gently, noticing the wet crimson along his spike indicating your innocence is no more. He feels rather proud of himself to be able to be your first. Gently, he rolls his waist back in, fully imbedded, and sets a calm pace as he fucks you, groaning lowly repeatedly.

Your legs tighten at his waist while your hands wrap around the back of his neck to hold onto him, soft mewls erupting from you as you feel yourself rock gently under his movements. The pain dulls and you casually now feel only the growing rush of heat flooding through you, feeling your clit rubbing against him with his movements in perfect sync.

The bulge repeatedly expands against your lower belly over again as his spike reaches deep, claiming every bit of you. Your body rocks and shakes under his slowly growing movements, thrusts becoming shorter and firmer, heated grunts formed out from him as he holds a tighter grip against your thigh and hip, watching himself entering your pussy over again. His spike hits your g-spot causing your back to arch sharply.

"Fuck! Oh fuck!" You cry out in bliss, the pounding pleasure boiling rapidly through your hot body, pussy accepting every inch of him as he snaps forward over again. There's no holding back now.

"Fragging pit, feels so good! Sucking me whole, such a good girl. Yeah, that's it, keep clenching. I'll fill you deeply with my fluids, over again, make sure your body drinks everything I give. Do you want that, huh? Want me to frag you always?" His heated vents hit against your neck as he leans closer again, pace firm and hard as he tugs you against his solid movements.

"P-please..." You whimper out as you struggle with your words.

"What's that? Go ahead, tell Roddy what you want." His rough movements are intoxidating, you crave every bit of it, clenching around his throbbing spike even more, feeling your pleasure about to snap.

"You!" You cry out in ecstasy. "All of you!"

"Take all of me then!"

Burying his face into your neck he sets an abrupt and hard pace, jackhammering against your body as he bends your leg up over his shoulder, stretching your body and you love just how much you can flex under his strong movements. He grunts hard into your ear, each thrust creating another animalistic sound from him as you fall apart under him, lust consuming every bit of you and him in the rapid movements, before you feel yourself about to crumble and don't hold back, cumming hard around his thrusting spike buried deep in you.

Your orgasim is what sends him over the edge as he lets out a lingering throat loud moan followed by the warm trans fluids flooding your channel, overlosding himself within you. His movements continue, slowing down and giving small jerks against you so he can savour every bit of you still.

You're a painting mess, moaning as you feel his spike still buried deep with the bulge and fluids embedded deeply, allowing yourself to catch your breath as he slowly comes to a stop.

Rodimus tilts your head and shares a kiss with you, tender and loving kind, before looking deeply into your eyes through his hazy optics.

"So, pretty good right?" That smugness in his voice is cute.

"So good." You answer without lying.

"Think you can handle a second round?" He gives his waist a teasing thrust, spike twitching through your inner channel that makes you whimper softly through a cocky smile. Sure, why not?

"Let's find out."