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maneskinwh0re · 5 months ago

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ghostface!sevika x feminine!reader 👻

impulse fic for arctober 29th {sevika day}

men/minors dni, nsfw 18+

middle pic art creds to @ guccipussay 🖤

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cw: dom!sevika, sub!reader, cnc, a man…(reader has a bf but dw he don’t last long :3), blood, gore, violence, cheesy horror movie clichés, implied murders, mask k!nk, choking, kn!fe play, wlw smut!

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♱ halloween night — you sit next your boyfriend, cuddled up on the couch with your legs draped over his lap. his eyes linger up and down the black lingerie dress that hugs your curves, while your own eyes are focused on the horror movie playing on the tv.

♱ saw. a great franchise and the original being one of your all time favorites. as you watch, with every jump scare, your boyfriend grabs at your waist or tickles you, which is usually followed by you screaming and then playfully hitting his arm or chest.

♱ you want to like him. you do like him, but he gets on your nerves. yeah — you often go on errand trips and gym sessions with him and yeah — while you’re there, he occasionally flirts with other women when he thinks you aren’t looking. but spending your favorite holiday with him is a must. after all, what could go wrong with a simple horror movie marathon? everything is perfect, yet the night is still young.

♱ the city has been getting more and more dangerous recently, and as the clock nears midnight, all the kids must’ve gone home. the neighborhood is quiet with the exception of owls and chirping crickets.

♱ suddenly, the movie is interrupted by your phone ringing — a call from an unknown number.

♱ typically, you don’t answer a call unless the number is in your contacts, but your boyfriend irritably pauses the movie and insists you pick it up.

♱ with an agitated sigh, you answer. “hello?”

♱ “hello,” the person says on the other line. the voice is deep with a feminine undertone, laced with a rasp that almost catches you off guard.

♱ “who is this?”

♱ “you tell me your name, i’ll tell you mine.”

♱ “i don’t think so. can i help you?”

♱ “i just gotta ask you one question, baby.”

♱ baby? who does this creep think she is? you can’t help but admit her voice sounds attractive. “yeah? what is it?”

♱ “what’s your favorite scary movie?”

♱ your stomach drops and you end the call with a shudder, tossing your phone to the cushion next to you and breathing slow. something in your gut is telling you not to engage.

♱ “so… who was it?”

♱ “probably just some bratty teenagers prank calling or something.”

♱ “you lying to me?”

♱ “no! what?” you blurt out, almost angered with his distrust towards you. with a huff, you push yourself off your boyfriend’s lap and head towards the bathroom. “keep it paused, gimme five.”

♱ after rinsing your face with water, you take some deep breaths in front of the mirror. calm your nerves, it was just a phone call. the tense feeling in your gut still lingers as you walk back to the living room only to see your boyfriend is nowhere to be found. calling out his name, you sit back down on the couch and pick up your phone to dial his contact.

♱ “ugh- i’m not in the mood for this shit!” you yell out to him as you call his phone.

♱ you hear his phone ring in the other room and decide to make your way to the kitchen. you see it buzz repeatedly on the counter, watching it and zoning out as if waiting... something’s not right. where the hell is he?

♱ “your call has been forwarded to an automated voice messaging syste-” the sound of your call going to voicemail snaps you back to your senses before hanging up and looking around. you’ve seen too many scary movies to know this is how it all starts, and you try not to let the thought freak you out.

♱ startling you again, your own phone buzzes. unknown caller id. taking a deep breath, you tap the green button on your screen. “hello?”

♱ “hello again, beautiful.”

♱ that damn voice again. your anger rises at the woman on the other line. “what is this? some kind of sick joke? a prank?”

♱ “no no, baby. a game. a real easy one. y’ wanna play?”

♱ “what the f… do i have a choice? what’s stopping me from hanging up right now?”

♱ “maybe it’s your fear that you may not live through this very night.” yeah, right. anyone could make threats like this. she continues through your silence, “you never told me your name…”

♱ “why do you wanna know my name?”

♱ “i wanna know who i’m looking at.” your anger fizzles and breath hitches. fear smothers all the oxygen in your lungs and words are caught in the back of your throat. “you do have a choice, dove— to play or to die.”

♱ “fine,” you agree with a shaky breath, you internally scold yourself for turning to grab the nearest knife. who cares if you’re overreacting? you’re not dying tonight. you grip the knife’s handle tight as you hold your phone up to your ear. you start walking out the kitchen and down the hallway before your question is cut off with her single word. “how do i-”

♱ “colder...”

♱ you stop in your tracks. as a horror film fan, you have yelled at your television screen when a character makes a dumb decision or if you’ve wanted a better plot line. you always thought you would make logical choices if you were ever —hypothetically of course— put in a situation like this. but in this current moment, your head is only clouded with uneasy thoughts and vicious worry. you take a step backwards and start to return to the kitchen.

♱ “warmer… warmer,” her voice trails on as you play the game step by step. you pass the living room and enter the kitchen, stopping when you hear her voice again. “ah ah- cold.”

♱ you turn around and slowly creep your way back to the living room. the thought of her eyes constantly watching causes you to feel a mixture of fear and something else. your short steps continue towards the sofa where you sat care-free maybe only 10 minutes ago.

♱ “warmer… warmer… keep moving, baby. you’re doing so good… red hot. riiight there...” the mysterious woman taunts as you look around. and once you catch the sight behind the couch, you can’t help the horrified gasp and shriek that escapes your lips.

♱ your boyfriend lays motionless, face down on the floor in a pool of his own blood. deep gashes and slices have left his body mutilated. yet no weapon is left anywhere.

♱ fuck. this means she’s already in the house. your heartbeat races and your ears start ringing. no- that’s the phone—the sound of a dial tone. she hung up.

♱ you go to grab a bigger knife from the kitchen but they’ve all been taken. what’s the next best weapon? the only other option you see is the dirty pan that’s been left on the stove from dinner. looks like you’re sticking with the smaller knife you grabbed earlier.

♱ your phone goes off again, causing you to yelp at the ringer and then internally curse yourself for being so jumpy. it’s her again. you try to sound confident, but anxiety and dread involuntarily rises from the back of your throat. “what the fuck do you want?”

♱ “you, baby,” her voice is low and sultry, and you try not to let it get to you.

♱ “you’re psychotic…”

♱ “hm… sorry about your boyfriend. all those muscles didn’t help much,” she replies before ending the call again.

♱ you wander the house, preparing yourself to fight at every corner you turn. “where are you, motherfucker?” you whisper to yourself as you start to creep down the hallway. and before you realize what’s happening, a gloved hand reaches around to cover your mouth from behind, muffling your panicked scream that follows.

♱ your phone drops to the floor as you quickly swing your arm back to stab the tall figure behind you. your aggressive attempt to defend yourself is reversed as the woman dodges the knife and spins you so you’re now pinned against the wall. her right hand still muffles your mouth and the left holds your wrist above your head.

♱ your hold on the knife above you is weak as you freeze in her grip, your free hand clawing at her forearm. you can feel the size of her muscular arms in your struggles. once your vision clears, your squirming slows to a stop as you are face to face —or face to mask— with your intruder. her towering figure is clothed in black-hooded fabric and a long black and white mask is layered over her head, its mouth shaped as if screaming.

♱ you breathe through your nose in short gasps. “look at you… even prettier up close.” she tilts her head as if studying you. you’re unable to see her eyes but it’s obvious she’s looking you up and down as if you’re her next meal. “scream for help and you die. y’ got that, angel?” her hand tightens its grip on your mouth and her tone is short and stiff, like a merciless general commanding orders to a feeble soldier. you confirm you understand with a small nod, eyes still welled with tears until you soon blink them away. once your breaths even, she lowers her hand. “there you go, now was that so hard?”

♱ “what the fuck do you want from me?” you ask accusingly, making sure to not get caught up in anger. luckily, your shaky words don’t provoke her and only bring her to a deep chuckle.

♱ “such naughty language,” she says with a tut, almost amused with your fear as she lifts your chin with a gloved finger. you try so hard to push away the butterflies that form in your stomach. “besides, i thought we went over this already.” she lifts her leg between your thighs, teasingly pressing her knee up against you and trapping your body against the wall. a short gasp escapes your lips at the sensation, and she smirks under her mask. she uses this position as leverage to take the knife from your grip and lazily toss it down the hallway. the sudden sound of it clattering to the floor makes you flinch and her hands quickly return to your wrists, pinning them high above your head. “i’m not going to hurt you, angel,” she whispers, her disguised face leaning in close. “not unless you want me to…” and at the end of her sentence, your name rolls off her tongue. how the hell does she know your name?

♱ “y-you’re a damn creep,” you spit back less harsh than intended, and she can tell your barriers are wavering. if you’re being completely honest with yourself, it’s difficult to focus on your frustration when her actions are affecting your body like this. your mind is fuzzy, your chest feels tight, and your core aches. a moment passes as you stare at the woman in front of you, her broad build dominating your figure. the flesh of your bare thighs involuntarily clench on either sides of her knee. you’re in short, black lingerie… of-fucking-course you’re feeling vulnerable in her arms. “what ‘re you gonna do to me then?”

♱ “only things you want me to do, sweetheart.”

♱ and at this, she has you. her words bring a breathy whimper from your lips and you grind yourself against her knee. like a slut. you’re not proud, but it feels good— fear and distress not dissipating but mixing perfectly with pleasure. it’s exhilarating. intoxicating. arousing. it’s a way you’ve never felt before in relation to sex, with your boyfriend or anyone else for that matter.

♱ “y’ dirty little thing. you like this? tryin to get yourself off at the threat of your fuckin life?” she asks, her degrading tone not doing anything to help you come to your senses. “if y’ want help, jus’ use your words.”

♱ “h-help… please,” you nod up to her, squirming and going to cover your face with your hands until you're reminded of her own gloved hands restricting you by the wrists. you want to hide— hide from her, from your shame, from the lust, from your lack of wanting to fight whatever this is. but as soon as she lowers her hand to feel how wet you are through the fabric of your underwear, all negative thoughts abandon your mind.

♱ “give up the fight, dove.” the masked woman’s voice is rich and warm, and you finally pinpoint her subtle puetro rican accent while she speaks. she feels you relax into her hand at her words and loves hearing the quiet sounds you make as one of her fingers slowly circle your clit through the thin, dampened material.

♱ “i give up- i… i give up. please, just-”

♱ “you want me inside you, baby?” she whispers into the nape of your neck, the bloodied plastic of the mask grazing across your exposed collarbone. your hurried nod cues her to remove her right glove, and her left hand lazily shoves it in the back pocket of her black jeans under her cloak. you catch a glimpse of her veined hand before she pushes your underwear to the side and thrusts two thick digits into your wet cunt. you clench around her middle and ring fingers, watching how white rings of cum drip and gather at the dark skin of her knuckles.

♱ her free hand trails up your chest and grips you by the neck, squeezing lightly and bringing a strained moan from the back of your throat. “been watchin' you for a while now. 've seen the way your fingers wrap around this throat as you touch yourself, thinkin' no one could fill those filthy desires o' yours.” your hands grasp at her forearm again and force her grip harder against you. she chuckles once she realizes what you’re trying to do, and decides to give you what you want, a tightening hold that's hard enough to leave bruising. “you like my hand right here? choking the damn life outta you? y're a sick little slut, it’s adorable.”

♱ as her long fingers thrust and curl inside your heat, you find yourself at her mercy while she fucks you against the wall. the thought of your boyfriend's cold, rotting body in the other room is long gone. and you can only focus on how warm this womanly murderer feels against you, killing just so she can get to you. now that thought is what makes you weak in the knees.

♱ “can y' keep yourself standing, baby? or do i need to fuck you on the floor?” she asks as her fingers quicken their movements.

♱ “mph- i can stand!” you insist, trying so hard to keep your jelly knees from buckling under your limp self. you feel your back start to slide down the wall, disproving your protest. you're visibly unable to hold up the weight of your own trembling body. it's not your fault your trespasser just makes you feel so fucking good. so fucking close... until she stops.

♱ her fingers pull out quickly and she seizes one of your arms, not bothering to wipe your juices off her fingers. you feel how soaked two of her fingers are as her large hand grips your upper arm, tightening to a painful squeeze.

♱ “clearly, you don't have the strength. so we're gonna try s'mthin' new,” she says before tearing your underwear off and throwing you to the wooden floor. you lay there for a moment, shock hitting you as you try to take in oxygen again. facing away from the intruder, you bring your forearms close and try to crawl towards the other end of the hallway. your hips roll to the side with every other crawl so you can rub your thighs together, attempting to recreate that same friction you felt seconds ago.

♱ in the state of hysteria, you miss the foul act of the masked woman tucking your underwear into the other back pocket of her pants.

♱ you turn your head up to see her slowly bending down to pick up the kitchen knife she tossed away minutes ago. you see the back of her head through an opening in the mask's fabric. her dark hair is short, maybe reaches just past her ears. but any further sight of her human characteristics are cut short once she stands up and her posture straightens. her head turns to you. and your breath quickens. she begins walking. every brisk step passes faster than the last as she gains more speed down the hallway, knife clutched in her fist.

♱ is this how it truly ends? a trick to get edged and then end up killed? some scary movie.

♱ alarms blare in your mind and genuine fear takes over as you try to crawl away. prey chased by predator. think y' know who wins in this twisted game.

♱ a gloved hand clutches the flesh on your shoulder and flips you onto your back. you can't seem to help your panicked scream that erupts into the fabric of that same damn glove. she removes her palm with a forceful shove away and pins both your wrists to the floor on either sides of your head. she lowers her body on top of you and straddles your hips, shushing you and reassuring she won't hurt you.

♱ you almost believe her until your frightened eyes watch her arm lift, the knife held tight in her fist. she brings it down hard causing you scream again and squeeze your eyes shut, too scared to watch how she guts you. when you don't feel any pain, you peek an eye open to watch her laugh. laugh at your terror, knife still in hand.

♱ rightfully pissed off now, for both fearing for your life and the pleasure she has delayed you of, you spit up at her ghost of a face. your saliva scatters across the plastic, but surely she felt mist of it directly through the patches of the eyes and mouth. she pauses. and if only you could see that sadistic smirk of hers, just so proud of your little defiant act.

♱ but every bad action has its consequence.

♱ the knife lifts again and is slammed down into the floor, just inches to the right of your head. the handle points up to the ceiling and your ghostface girl guides your hand up and wraps your fingers around it, then follows suit and wraps her own left hand around the handle as well. it's sentimental, you tell yourself as you focus on calming your breathing.

♱ her right hand trails down your chest and returns to its place at your cunt. she teases a finger before pushing in two again, and you can't tell how long she keeps delaying your needed orgasm. one moment, you're a pleading mess. the next, you can't speak because her gloved hand clutches at either your mouth or throat. she smells of dried blood and alcohol, bringing you close only to pause her movements for the second time.

♱ “please, i can't keep doing this. i... need to-” your begs are cut off by her taunting words.

♱ “need to what?” she asks, her mask leaning close to your face. “say it.” her intensity rises a blush to your cheeks, and when you can only let out a shy whimper, she withdraws her fingers from your aching heat again.

♱ ignoring your protests, fusses, and pouts, she shoos your hand off the knife's handle next to your head and yanks it out of the floor in one swift movement. she trails the sharp point of the blade down your torso, from your chest all the way to your mound. you can't help the little buck of your hips as the cold metal lightly grazes your clit.

♱ that little movement brings her to a chuckle. “i know a lot o' things about you, dove. but i wasn't sure you'd crave knife play this badly.”

♱ you can only muster a strained groan. and with that, she flips the weapon and gently pushes the handle into your soaking walls. the most provocative of sounds is brought at the contact, and it's music to her ears. she groans in satisfaction and ogles at how well you take it.

♱ her thrusts are slow, careful, gentle, turning and pushing and pulling... mindful of how easily she could injure the flesh of your inner thighs or even your pretty pussy with one wrong move. her skilled hands work you up again, probing your body with her calloused skin.

♱ you feel that knot in your core grow tighter and tighter. in a moment of impulse, your shaky hands reach up to grab hold of the ghostface's mask and pull it up to reveal your intruder's real identity. she just lets you, casually watching your wide-eyed reaction to her appearance as she fucks you faster.

♱ she's fucking gorgeous. you first notice her eyes, a shining grey in contrast to her darker skin. her nose is wide and hooked, her lips are plump and soon turn upward in a sly smirk as you study her. she notices your focus lingering at her lips, so she allows herself to lean in and place a light kiss to your slightly open mouth. your jaw is slack as you continue to take staggered breaths, yet you want more. you chase the kiss once she begins to pull away. connecting your panting mouth to hers again, she pushes her tongue into your mouth with a groan and swallows every sweet whimper she brings from the back of your throat.

♱ the handle of the knife continues to pump in and out of your leaking cunt. she knows you won't last much longer. you can't. you break the kiss at the last possible moment to gasp for air, and she uses that short second to pull her ghostface mask back down with her gloved hand.

♱ she wants her lips to be on yours again, but she'd be damned if she returns to the sensation. she's already internally scolding herself for becoming too attached to the taste of you, but she is just loving how you make vulgar curses sound sweet in the ways they spill from your panting lips. “f-fuck, fuck! i'm gonna-”

♱ “i know, baby, i know,” she says, her deep voice slightly softens as she speeds up her pace and grazes your clit with her thumb. “sevika,” her deep voice mutters close to your ear. and when you bite her clothed shoulder as a way to mute your own uncontrollable whimpers and moans, her gloved hand returns a threatening squeeze to your throat. after forcing you back down to the floor, she speaks again. “scream for sevika. scream my name as you cum on my fingers, dove...”

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♱ blue and red lights move across the walls through the windows. the blaring sounds of sirens are heard from outside. you think you find peace until you hear muffled yells from police officers at your front door, warning anyone who is in the entryway that they're breaking it down. you hear a countdown and loud pounding, but the ringing in your ears is louder.

♱ by the time the officers run down the hallway and get a sight of you, there's scattered radio chatter followed by paramedics springing into action and bombarding you with questions.

♱ “ma'am, can you hear me?” ... “can you tell me your name?” ... “have you been stabbed?” ... “is there anyone else in the apartment with you?” ... “who did this?”

♱ you're coughing and sputtering. your body is in a heap of blood, sweat, and tears (and cum but it's not as noticeable). at this point, you only remember little flashes.

♱ sevika. you never got to tell her how pretty that name is. you remember the outlines of her face. the trace of her fingers... the trace of that knife before it was plunged into you. not deep, nor anywhere vital. you remember being in that post-orgasm gaze... a whisper in your ear — “for evidence...” — and then a sharp pain sliding its way in and out of your side, bringing you to a pile of blood and pained tears on the floor. you were already covered in sweat — she had made sure of it, but then she had to go ruin you again. ruin your body twice.

♱ a flashlight is shining in your eyes, bringing you back to the present as well as attention to the obvious growing blood stain in your clothing. your breathing becomes strained and labored as your vision starts to cloud.

♱ “victim has three visible injuries-” you overhear paramedics take note of your body's condition as they bring in a stretcher to carry you. “stab wound and two abrasions, neck and chest...”

♱ a subtle grin sneaks its way onto your face once you realize why sevika left you in an open pile on the floor. she didn't want to kill you, but she also didn't want to see your name in a court file. seems like getting found with a stab wound would lower your chances of being high suspect for your boyfriend's murder. they have no other leads so far, but sevika made it seem like you were at the wrong place at the wrong time.

♱ you know police will pester you with further questions and investigations, but you don't care. your lips are sealed.

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♡ this was so rushed i actually don’t like it but WHATEV

♡ hope y'all enjoyed! lmk if y'all want this to be a series bc i love halloween too much to only post spooky themes once a year...

- 🐝

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tag list: @lovinglywriting ♡

#sevika #sevika x reader #ghostface #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #sevika edit #scream #happy halloweeeeeeen #bee #maneskinwh0re #lesbian

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rottenherbs · 3 months ago

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Lover

Pairing: F.W x Reader Request: “It sounds so cliche, but my request involves Taylor Swift's Lover song — I think this scene of mine might be fitting around the time of GoF for the yule ball scene and his long hair era. And on behalf of the reader's house, it's really up to you, but I would say her demeanor is a shy or a lone type of girl that prefers to avoid attention and crowded places at all cost (for the sake of the plot 🥲). And because of this, it took some time for Fred to eventually notice her, but when he did, she got him wrapped around her fingers entirely just by existing. Word Count: W/C: 3.2k A/N: Ravenclaw was chosen! Though I must say it is not mentioned frequently so reader! Could be easily manipulated to be Hufflepuff or Slytherin. I also think playing the song once the Yule Ball scene starts is ACTUALLY so cute. Thank you so much for requesting <3 [masterlist] Much Love, Saige

Unbelievable. Your mother has sent yet another letter through the post asking about what you were going to wear to the Yule Ball. It was not your definition of fun…perse, but that was only because you knew no one was going to ask you. Even just the thought of going stag made your hands shake.

Sitting in the great hall alone, you hesitated to open it. The thought of being berated yet again to ‘gain some courage’ or ‘go with a friend’ just frustrated you slightly. You knew your mother didn’t understand your social anxiety or lack of relationships at school, but reading the words felt like a stab in the gut. You set it to the side as you finished your jam and toast, relishing in the morning light. After a few minutes, you took a deep breath, picking back up the envelope slowly.

A boisterous crowd entered the great hall catching your attention; letter still in hand. Their scarlet and gold uniforms almost gave it away before their fiery red hair did. As they walked, they laughed and hit each other on the back, plopping themself into the gryffindor table just a few feet away. Luckily for you, they sat with their backs turned; but even then you could recognize which twin was which. Fred often would whip the dangling hair in front of his face with his head, while George would tuck the hair quickly behind his ears. Their movements mirrored each other in many ways, even the food they grabbed as they built their breakfast plates, but something made you see Fred differently.

After a few moments you looked away, embarrassed at yourself for staring. You held the letter in your hands, slipping your nail under the fold opening it delicately. In her usual fashion, your mother wrote on beautiful blue cardstock, a small drawing of an eagle, sloppily, yet endearingly, on the envelope.

Flipping it open, it read;

“Darling, I know you have read the last two letters I have sent. I know it seems daunting to go to a school dance but you wont regret it. Life is short. Whether or not you get asked should not hold you back from having a good time by yourself.

I love you.

Please don't hesitate to write back~~

Ps. I hope the owl dropped off a sack with this letter. Maybe you could use it to find a nice dress on my behalf.”

Just as you finished the letter, a small owl dropped a sack of coins on top of your empty plate, sending crumbs all over the table. With a small chirp, the owl flew away leaving you alone once more. You sat there for a moment, letter still in hand, looking at the cloth of coins in front of you. Exhaling, you thought over the possibilities of going to the ball. Could you muster up enough confidence to go? What if someone did ask you? You sighed lightly, conflicted with the letter and your own mental gymnastics. Fiddling with the coin sack, you made a mental note to write your mother back after class today.

Glancing over at the twins, you started daydreaming. The idea of being asked by Fred romantically at the Yule Ball, being swept away to the dance floor just as a slow dance started, what the smell of his cologne would be like, how tall he would be with you in his arms, how he would lean down to kiss yo-

Breaking you from your trance, a large old owl barreled through the postal entrance, hitting several candles on its way down. The eyes of all students in the great hall followed the train wreck as it dive bombed towards the gryffindor table.

“Errol! No!” George yelled. The bird hit the table, dropping a large parcel while knocking over several drinks and meals in the process. Your hand flew to your mouth, stifling a laugh as the chaos ensued. You watched the twins attempt to clean the area, opening the box, shooting the bird off quickly.

“Oy, looks like this ones for our little brother.” Fred chuffed, shoving the box down the table towards Ron. A ghastly red dress suit with ancient frills could be seen from miles away. As the table enveloped in laughter and disbelief, you cleared your plate gathering your belongings in your arms, quietly leaving the great hall without a trace; the thought of being whisked away by a certain tall suiter is still fresh in your mind.

———-

Over the weekend before the ball, you decided to shop around Hogsmeade in one last ditch attempt to find something you felt comfortable in. If you didn’t find something today, you were not going at all.

Wrapping your neck tightly with a scarf, you topped your head with earmuffs ready to face the elements. Snow crested the hills and paths; crunching softly under your feet.

Just ahead, two ginger boys formed snowballs in their hands, one sending it up in the air while the other attempted to hit it down with another snow ball. They frolicked and played, stopping students who walked passed.

As you got closer, you crossed your fingers; praying they would let you go through without acknowledging your presence. Of course you dreamed of kissing Fred in your free time, but the idea of him even perceiving you sent shivers down your spine. Walking with your head held down, you took one step after another, thinking if you just kept moving nothing would happen.

“Hey! Sorry to bother you.” You heard a voice shout just to your left. You stopped in your tracks, eyes widening. Please don't be talking to me. Please don't be tal-

“Hey! Wait, sorry.” Fred's voice got closer with each step. You gulped, turning to face him, a small polite smile across your face. Your hands held each other in your hoodie, gripping your coin pouch tightly in any attempt to calm your nerves.

“Could you settle a debate? We could use an outside interpretation of something.” He gestured towards George just off the path. You made eye contact with George, waving you over. The words were caught in your throat. You attempted to find a response.

What could you say?

You stumbled over words, stuttering slightly before huffing and just nodding your head in agreement.

“Great! You wont regret it.” Fred said, pulling you over to George. “I think…” He added, just under his breath. Your arm was intertwined with his for only a moment as he pulled you to the side. George walked up to you both, a smile plastered from ear to ear. You suddenly became aware of what was happening, stopping in your tracks.

”I swear if you are pranking me.” You mumbled, brows furrowed. Fred stopped just a foot ahead of you, his eyes widening. His hands released your arm, holding his hands up in defense. You couldn't help but notice how his eyes glistened against the snow. His nose and cheeks red from the cold, sniffling slightly. He took a small step towards you shaking his head. Fred could feel the sudden apprehension from you, worried you thought they would do something cruel.

“No no I promise. Purely just need your opinion for our business.” Fred waited for a moment, both of your eyes attempting to read the emotion on the others. His heart fluttered as you looked over his face, suddenly taken aback by your beauty. His brain wracked any previous memory of you, in the hallways, or in class, at meals. He had never seen you before and it astonished him. He thought he knew everyone.

You didn’t respond, just a small smile building across your cheeks walking towards him with more confidence. George looked between you and Fred several times, already sensing something growing between the tension. George smirked but kept to himself, knowing he’d be able to inquire later.

“Simply put, we need a consensus of the general public, you see, from students we don't typically sell to, and that's where you come in” Fred gestured to a small box behind George, hidden in the snow. You fiddled lightly with the coins in your pocket, waiting for the big reveal. Fred leaned down, picking up the box and holding it in front of you.

“Now. Just tell me which item you would be more compelled to buy.” Opening it slowly, two large spheres wrapped in foil laid neatly in the box; one gold, one silver. You leaned in, trying to get a better look. The twins stood silent, awaiting your response.

”Gold.” You spoke, looking up at them both. They looked back at you, and then at each other for a moment. Fred nodded in acknowledgment, his bottom lip out slightly almost as if he was impressed by your answer. He closed the box quickly and turned to George. Their movements were fast and abrupt, taking you by surprise. They slid the box in a satchel, Fred lifting the strap over his head and across his torso.

“Thank you so much for your participation.” George dramatically bowed, Fred following. Fred glanced up at you as he leaned, winking at you before he looked back down. Your heart raced, standing still. As they rose, you stayed silent, just watching the way they proceeded, mesmerized by how Fred kept looking your way.

“We will keep in touch.” Fred whispered, turning on his heel and walking away with George. You stood alone for a moment, watching them both go down the path back to the castle. You looked around in disbelief, not sure what happened. Turning back towards hogsmeade, you couldn't stop replaying the conversation, the way he held your arm even for a moment. Maybe you were more inclined to go to the ball, the thought of seeing Fred there made it more appealing.

———- ((Lover By Taylor Swift))————-

The day had arrived and you couldn't be more tense. Like you had thought, no one had asked you to the dance, yet a part of you was happy that you could come and go at your leisure. You told yourself if it was a terrible idea, you could come back to your room and end the night early.

You sat in front of your mirror applying makeup to the best of your ability. You slipped on your gown, struggling to zip the back up, jumping around in any attempt to shimmy up the zipper. After a few minutes of bouncing and movement, you successfully adjusted the dress, looking at yourself in the mirror.

Slightly shocked in the confidence it brought you, you admired the way the dress sat on your hips and flowed to the floor; a slight swish as you moved left to right. Taking a deep breath in, you slipped on your shoes and practiced walking around your bedroom before leaving and heading out to the common room. Many of your peers all dressed in bronze and blue, a slight nod to your house colors. You could feel the tension in the room as students paired up with their partners, walking awkwardly together out of the common room. It seemed more people were more nervous than you thought, reminding you that it was just a bunch of teenagers going to a dance. Conversations in the hall were light; students attempting to participate in small talk, many stumbling over their words, fingers grabbing each other. The nerves were almost palpable coming off the students the closer you all got to the great hall.

Following the crowd, you arrived at the great hall, your hands held tightly together with your clutch, finding it to be a great fidget as your heart raced harder. Students from all houses joined together outside the great hall, not yet entering as they met and chatted with friends. The large group made you hesitate, moving through it slowly to enter the exquisitely decorated room.

You almost couldn’t recognize it. The large tables and benches were replaced with several tall round tables. Beautifully decorated christmas trees lined the walls. Snow fell from the ceiling, magically disappearing before it hit your head. You smiled, turning in a circle taking it all in. The room was beginning to fill, still giving you time to become comfortable in the space before the event started.

Fred was outside in the large crowd, watching you as you passed. He noticed you as you turned the corner, the first thing catching his eyes was your gold dress. His hands shook slightly, gripping the edge of his coat pulling it lightly. Ever since you caught his attention by hogsmeade, George hadn’t stopped teasing the way that Fred talked about you. His mind was constantly elsewhere, not able to focus on their pranks or schoolwork. As much as it annoyed George with how distant Fred was, he knew how smitten he had become and he was happy for his brother.

“You alright mate?” George whispered, noticing how Freds eyes followed you through the crowd. Fred didn’t respond, just sighed and looked at the floor.

“I’m lost Georgie. I don't know what I'm doing here.” Fred whined, his hands shoved deeply in his pant pockets. George rolled his eyes, nudging Fred over in your direction.

“She showed. That’s all you were moaning about all week! Just go talk to her. You did it once before.” George whispered, gesturing towards the entrance. “If you don't ask her, I just might.” George added, a cheeky grin growing across his face.

“You wouldn’t dare.” Fred furrowed his brows, his voice husky and dark. George just laughed, shaking his head.

“No way. That’s all you.” He patted Fred’s shoulder, pushing him towards the great hall, physically prodding him to take the next step. Fred stumbled slightly, taking a deep breath in before attempting to walk in casually.

You took a table close to the stage, sipping a small glass of punch. Glancing at the clock, you noticed a familiar redhead enter the room, your breath hitching in your throat. Almost choking on your drink, you turned and faced the front, trying to look distracted in the band setting up. You held the glass lightly, not letting your agitation show in your body language. You were cool, calm, and collected. Right?

It felt like minutes passed before Fred joined you at your table. Your back facing the entrance, not aware of his presence. He stood for a moment, admiring you from behind, the way your hair laid on your shoulders, how your back was exposed and glistened under the lights from above. He swore he could feel how soft your skin was, even from feet away, his fingers itching to know how you’d react if he reached out right then.

Instead, he cleared his throat, garnering your attention. Your eyes meet with him in a soft embrace. His chest swelled, the feeling of his body tingling just by looking at you. You smiled at him, leaning your arms on the table leaning over slightly.

“Hey.” You blushed softly, inexplicably happy to see him. Fred took a step closer to you, looking at the stage for a second. “Looks like you kept your word.” You added, looking at the band with him. His elbows leaned on the table, his muscles relaxing slightly.

“I'll always keep my word.” He cooed, looking back at you. Every time you made eye contact his brain went blank. He was entranced every time he laid eyes on you. He swore it could’ve been 20 seconds or 20 years, yet he felt under your spell.

“So. Who’s the lucky lady with you tonight?” You asked, lifting your cup to your lips. Part of you hated that you asked, but you’d rather rip the bandaid off now than be in emotional torment all night. The thought of watching him dance with someone else made you sick, but who wouldn’t ask Fred Weasley to the dance.

Fred cleared his throat, surprised by your question.

“Um..” His hand raised to the back of his head, ruffling his hair. “I may have just come for the experience. See where the night takes me.” He smiled down at the table, his eyes unable to meet yours. You nodded your head, feeling of relief rushing over your whole body. You set the cup down, both of your hands only inches apart.

“Huh…. Me too.” You mumbled, smiling at your drink. You swore you saw Fred bite his lip, but he quickly coughed, ducking his head into his elbow. You laughed, watching him regain his balance. He patted his chest dramatically, his hand now outstretched towards you.

“Please, may I get you a refill m’lady?” His voice was dramatic yet sincere, making your stomach flip. You chuckled, your hand reaching up to your lips, thinking for a moment. You reached down, handing over the glass. Both of your hands meet, the feeling of his fingers overlapping yours sending bolts of electricity through your body. Both of your eyes met each other, your hands still touching each other, as if time had stopped. He reached further, holding your hand over the glass entirely.

”Ill be back.” He smiled, your hand releasing the cup into his. Your cheeks were flush, the touch of his fingers still reminiscent of your hand. As much as you’d love a drink, you hated the idea of him leaving, even for just a moment.

“Can i go where you go?” You asked softly, your eyes bouncing between his. Fred swore he would walk across hot coals barefoot in order to hear you say that again. He felt like he could tear down mountains to get you a refill of punch. He couldn't believe what he heard. His empty hand reached down enveloping yours, the feeling so natural and warm. He pulled you lightly, walking ahead of you through the crowd.

Walking across the great hall, you swore the entire school was watching you both, the feeling surreal and uncomfortable, but all you could think about was the boy pulling you forward, hand in hand, just to get you some another drink.

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

Take me out

Take me home

Your my my my my my

Lover

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screamingcrows · 2 months ago

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HSR characters as ways animals court and mate

Welcome to the (hopefully) weirdest biology lesson you'll ever have! Essentially a shitpost. I shouldn't be allowed near blorbos. There might be better suited animals, these are all my takes on the characters and animals picked from ones I knew.

Repost from my old blog so I added more characters as compensation.

Characters included: Sampo Koski, Veritas Ratio, Ruan Mei, Jing Yuan, Argenti, Sunday, Kafka, Caelus, Moze

Warnings: nsfw in the way a national geographic documentary is, there are no graphic details but proceed at your own discretion, breeding mention for Jing Yuan, Sampo's ridiculously large appendage, Caelus slander,

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Sampo Koski - Limax maximus (leopard slug)

Truly, few people are as slick as Mr. Koski. You might not even notice at first that you are being observed by a mysterious, handsome stranger. Sure, his methods may be a little on the unusual side, but he values being well-informed before acting. Once he does decide to act, you may find yourself in quite a few unfortunate situations, luckily, your good friend Sampo is there to help you out. He is quite well endowed in certain departments, but where others might feel shame or even outright fear for their partner's comfort, this ingenious entrepreneur prides himself on always having the right tools for the job. Rest assured, your comfort and pleasure is of the highest importance! Or, for the right price, he will gladly put himself on the receiving end to satisfy your desires. Limax maximus is somewhat unusual in its mating habits compared to other slugs. They also have a ridiculously large penises (largest observed being 92cm or 36 inches) - mind you, a snail's penis emerges from their gonopore which is located on the side of their head. The leopard slugs court by circling each other for hours before eventually climbing a tree, coiling around each other and producing a string of mucus to hang upside down from - letting gravity unfold their penises. Since these slugs are hermaphroditic, both receive a sperm package and goes on to lay eggs.

Veritas Ratio - Strix varia (barred owl)

While Veritas might not exactly be keen on grand gestures to express himself, your persistance in seeking him out and staying close does eventually lead to the realisation that his days wouldn't be the same without your presence. Though he prefers to save his words, there's never a shortage around you, always talking, asking, listening, engaging in conversation that only you can provide. The shift in behavior is endearing, Veritas becomes keen on inviting you home, cooking for and with you, bathing together (something that had been near unimaginable for him). His hands gravitate towards you as often as possible, either just resting there or rubbing tension from your muscles. He takes care of you and lets you take care of him. It's a beautiful everyday life, after all, why would he confine himself to expressing his love a few times a year, when he could do it every day in countless ways instead? Strix varia - as many owls - remains mostly monogamous, with the exception being in instances of younger, widowed birds. Their courtship usually involves the owl hen following around the male for a time before they both begin engaging in duets and mutual preening. Every year for a period of time before mating, the male will take up all hunting responsibilities and dote on his partner :3 These owls are also, compared to closely related species, known for disliking man-made nesting boxes (microbiome is inferior to a hollowed out tree trunk) and they're considered some of the most curious and polite predators.

Ruan Mei - Timema (genus of stick insects)

While you might be interested in Ruan Mei, chances are she won't be interested in the same sense. There is little time for such 'pleasantries' and even less willingness to make time for it. Whether she cannot, or doesn't want to, understand the concept of love, she recognises the value it holds in terms of reproduction and evolution. And even then, she has gone about creating life by herself just fine. So, perhaps she will let you into her bed for a night, but it's unlikely that she lets it lead to more. Members of the genus Timema primarily reproduce through the process of parthenogenesis (virgin birth), meaning they reproduce asexually and males are very few and far between. Sexual reproduction is incredibly rare and speculated to only be done by a few individuals to keep a diverse enough gene pool.

Jing Yuan - Panthera leo (lion)

It's no secret that Jing Yuan has had ample time and opportunity for sexual experiences. Nor is it any secret that he's attractive (which he's aware of), despite his long life, Jing Yuan appears to be in the prime of his life and health. All that experience doesn't make his time with you any less special, it simply means that your pleasure and desires are exceedingly important. Anything you could want to try he will indulge, of course, you'll have to tell him, use your words, even if the answer is written all over your face. The one thing he does often want to indulge for his own sake is finishing inside. Other than that, Jing Yuan is more than happy to lay back and watch as you pleasure yourself with him. If you ask, he's happy to help, he knows your body quite well by now - ah just don't ask him in the afternoon. He's napping. Male lions are - apart from on the rare occasions that they have to defend their territory - very relaxed individuals. The females hunt for him while he sleeps (and looks good). The mane serves as a 'sexual ornament' and shows off how 'healthy' a male is. A more pigmented mane means higher testosterone levels (Ignore the pigmentation part for Jing Yuan and just consider how healthy and well taken care of he looks). A few days before the female enters estrus, the male picks up on changes to her scent and starts following her around. Female lions are known for having incredible stamina during estrus, often to the point of tiring out the male to a point where he will try to stalk off and sleep. Also worth noting that lions have a barbed penis that scratches the vagina upon pulling out, this can cause the female to ovulate just like I would if Jing Yuan did me

Argenti - Panthera leo male x Panthera tigris female (Liger, hybrid)

A knigh of Beauty passing by, not exactly the smartest choice to throw your heart at, is it? Argenti is kind, chivalrous, perhaps a little odd, and beautiful. He sees in you a work of art, compliments you as though he has no choice but let the words flow. Unfortunately, he doesn't let anyone get close. Perhaps he will indulge you for a night, find pleasure in seeing you come undone while he remains clothed. There is no settling down for him, no family life, he swore an oath that he must keep. Ligers are incredibly rare and only found in captivity. As with other hybrids, ligers follow Haldane's rule meaning the heterogametic sex (in this case the male) is sterile. These hybrids are stunning creatures, highly social, and the biggest living cat. But there is no 'successful' mating for them. Reproductive behavior in females follow that of their parent species.

Sunday - Anthochaera phrygia (regent honeyeater)

Once Sunday becomes free to act for himself, it's not particularly hard to recognise his little displays of interest. They're sweet and awkward at best and downright embarrassing at worst. He tries his best - he truly does - by learning from those around him. Unfortunately, those people are now the Astral Express crew, and aeons above, some of them aren't great at flirting to begin with, but having Sunday attempt mimicry? Horrendous. Once he gets a little more confident (perhaps you should reassure him that you enjoy who he is) you can expect him to open up more. Expect his care and love to be presented with something akin to devotion. With time, perhaps he'll even sing for you? Unfortunately, regent honeyeaters are critically endangered. This is in part due to the loss of their unique song. During early life, birds spend months learning various calls that will be important for signalling. These are typically learned from the parents, but regent honeyeaters leave the nest before this happens and a loss of habitat meant fewer individuals to learn from. Males have begun copying other bird species, leading to significantly lower interest from females, accelerating their decline.

Kafka - Crocuta crocuta (spotted hyena)

So you're enamoured with Kafka? Difficult not to be, she truly just... has a certain appeal wouldn't you say? Approaching with care and submission rather than aggression will see your chances of success increase. Kafka is confident in herself and her abilities, knowing what path she walks and the destination. But that doesn't mean she won't indulge in a little fun from time to time, after all, the script she has doesn't dictate every single action. She's in control throughout it all, even in the occassion of you being allowed on top, there's still no doubt about the hierarchy. She would have every stellaron hunter ready to protect you if your safety is deemed worthwhile. The spotted hyena lives in highly complex social groups with females most often ranking higher than males. Anatomically, the spotted hyena females have developed a 'pseudo-penis' (very enlarged clitoris) complete with faux scrotum and testes that cover the vagina - making forced copulation by a male impossible. The female needs to retract the pseudo-penis which is also what the male will insert his into. Males that remain passive and subservient have higher chances of successful mating compared to aggressive ones.

Caelus - Ailuropoda melanoleuca (giant panda)

Teeny tiny penis. Caelus is very easily goaded into doing things, sometimes you don't even have to suggest a stupid idea before he's halfway done trying. Poor man has no idea what to do with himself the moment things turn spicy. Very cute, very sweet, probably good cuddles. But you're gonna need a toy. At around a whopping 3cm (~1 inch), the giant pandas aren't giant everywhere. Courtship can involve males doing a handstand against a tree and peeing as far up as possible to signal that he's near. Famously, giant pandas seemingly lose interest in mating when kept in captivity and there's been a lot of initiatives to figure out how to get the spark back (this includes showing them panda-porn and giving them an equivalent to viagra)

Moze - Canis lupus (grey wolf)

Though he may appear reserved (and a little scary even) once you get to know Moze, it quickly becomes clear that he just.. he has a certain way of showing his affection. It's almost like having gained a shadow with how he follows you around. At first, he may be more inclined to keep you away from any and all danger, but gradually warms up to the thought of being partners in every sense. His trust in you is absolute and nothing could sway his loyalty. Still, Moze does enjoy seeing you well taken care of (going so far as having Jiaoqiu give him lessons on your favourite foods). Once he loses himself in the pleasures of your body, it becomes near impossible for him to stop. All that careful control slips from his grasp until the moment you're both panting for breath and utterly exhausted. During those times, he wraps his arms securely around you, keeping you there for as long as he can justify. I think we all know how dogs mate, no? Mounting, knotting, all that. Wolves are monogamous and form tightly knit packs. Mated pairs are excellent at cooperating, both for hunting and raising pups. The male wolf hunts for the first couple of weeks after the female gives birth, making sure she can rest in the den and look after the young. Interestingly, the more newly bonded a pair is, the more frequently will the male scent mark their territory to dissuade any potential intruders.

#didn't want to add any of the amphoreus cast because I haven't played the quest to end and even then #it wouldn't be enough for me to be comfortable with picking an animal lmao #anyway sorry for the repost - i hope the three added characters can make up for it just a little #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #sampo x reader #dr ratio x reader #ruan mei x reader #jing yuan x reader #argenti x reader #sunday x reader #kafka x reader #caelus x reader #moze x reader #hsr fanfic #crow with a pen

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paradlselost · 3 months ago

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. ⋮ ULTRAVIOLENCE .ᐟ ֹ

doctor phosphorus x female reader

⎨ 𝐀𝐍 ⎬ fun fact i’ve wanted to eat uranium for a long time so he is the worlds most perfect man to me . also sorry for not writing anything in so long , i’ve been busy and jumping from hyperfixation to hyperfixation for a while now as you can see by my unfinished mouthwashing fanfics . but i watched the show last night and he is my favorite and there’s almost nothing about him so i had to . enjoy !

⎨ 𝐂𝐖 ⎬ monster ! reader , mentions of body dysmorphia and imposter syndrome / depersonalization , religious trauma + blasphemy ( cause i can’t help myself ) specifically in catholicism , catholic rituals , depictions of eating raw meat , depictions of wounds , hurt / comfort , depictions of cannibalism , described body horror . smut : fire / burning kink , dry humping , fingering , male moans ( yay ! ) .

3 . 1 k words ++ not beta read .

PART TWO OUT NOW : CINNAMON GIRL

Eyes flutter closed, allowing darkness to wash over you. Soft sounds of birds chirping fill the room around you, drowning out the constant humming of the chip in the back of your neck. You’re hyper aware of everything, the fabric of the blanket that covers you and the cold air that stings your nose as you breath in; chest rising and falling in rhythm.

You remember how reluctant the guards that watched over you were to allow you the sounds you so desperately needed to sleep, not believing your pleas to quiet your constantly racing mind. Nearly a week without rest made them understand rather quickly, when, despite the power dampener locked around your neck, talons began to grow out of your hands and your spine contorted with the growing of fleshy wings.

It seems you’ve been blessed, something has gone right for once in your life as you’re now able to change the sounds to whatever you wish instead of the constant rushing of waves. Secretly, you’re happy to have been put on this mission. Grateful, even, as much as you could be to a monster like Waller. Perhaps you could even forgive her for the electrocution you’d been put through.

Weasel kips at the foot of your bed, stuck to your side since the day you had snapped at him: barred your fangs and shoved him away from you. Something about the beast had been so pathetic that you ended up apologizing and giving a hesitant scratch to the back of his ears. He’s good company, loyal if not a bit of a flea concern, and he listens when you speak to him unlike many of the others in the special containment of Belle Reave.

Nina was kind, as well, perhaps a bit out of her element, though. You’d once tried to make small talk with GI but that ended as quickly as it had started with his sudden interrogation on if you were a Nazi. And god, you wouldn’t dare bring anything up to the others.

Crickets chirped through the headphones you had been allowed to wear, owls hooting and birds calling. A forest at night, a beautiful scene you were sure you wouldn’t be able to see freely again, but you do not indulge in those negative thoughts. You can already feel it looming over you, exhaustion and stress mingling to bring it out. The thing that stirrs inside you, monstrous and ugly. Its hungry, and you know better than to ignore that hunger lest the Weasel that kips at the foot of your bed be more than a scrap of fur.

So, you stirr. Sitting up in the bed you remove your headphones and push the blanket from your form quietly as to not disturb him. He’s almost cute when he sleeps, like a crusty old dog that resembles more of a tattered blanket than a pet. Regardless, you close the door quietly behind you and walk down the long winding hallways of the palace. Truthfully, you had never been anywhere quite as lavish, never had a king sized bed all to yourself or a private bathroom. Its almost too big, especially at night when the shadows dance up the walls and cast an ominous glare over just about everything.

You know better than to gaze at your shadow as you pass the large walls with royal family portraits. Unworthy, unrighteous, evil. The rosary marks still pierce your skin, forced to pray this thing away day and night till your palms and knees bled. You’ve grown resentful towards the being that shares your body. It makes demands of you, to feast, a single slip can give way and allow it to control you. Some kind of devil, the reason you’re here in the first place.

Your mouth had begun to hurt in your search for the kitchen, gums beginning to bleed and pool against the base of your tongue.. You’d have thought you’d be used to this by now, that your world wouldn’t continue to be turned upside down, that the Lord’s Prayer wouldn’t recite involuntarily in your mind as it all starts over again. You stumble over your own two feet, finding yourself silently wishing you had that power dampener around your neck once again. Your stomach rumbles more.

It feels like an eternity till you finally find the kitchen, thankful that all the servants had retired for the night so you can spit your mouthful of blood into the sink. Crimson stains the marble, dripping from your chin as you turn on the faucet to wash your mouth of the taste. Your fangs had grown in now, taking space in front of your canines and piercing uncomfortably against your bottom lip whenever you close your mouth. Hunger gnaws at your stomach as if beginning to consume the lining itself.

You throw open the fridge door with little care of the noise it makes as it slams into the counter beside it. Eyes scour for something, anything, till you land on a large, raw goose marinating for tomorrow nights feast. Shaky hands reach out to grab it, allowing the glass tray it sits in to fall to the ground and shatter. The shards prick at your bare feet, cutting and marring your skin with more blood, though you don’t seem to notice.

Fangs sink into the bird, soft flesh breaking at the intrusion. The taste is almost euphoric, never had you tasted a meat so rich and fatty; your body had gotten far too used to the awful prison food they served in containment. You rip out a large chunk; tendons harshly snapping from the body as you swallow nearly without chewing. Your eyes gloss over as you devour the bird, reaching in to grab at the sausage links that had also been waiting to be cooked the next day.

You hadn’t realized how much you had truly lost yourself till a harsh green glow halted your feast. Head whipping around to greet the skeletal face of Phosphorus, a hiss falling from your lips that still wrapped around a chunk of meat like a food insecure cat. He was your least favorite of all, acting as if he knew everything simply because he had been a doctor before his incident. Not like it mattered in Belle Reave, and certainly not in the monster sector they were kept in.

“Woah. Calm down, I’m not takin’ that from you.” A huff came from him, head tilted to the side as he watched you, almost intrigued with the way you acted. He simply stepped past you, walking over to the sink and simply staring down at the blood that had graced the basin. “This yours?”

The link fell from your mouth, rolling into the shards of glass and crimson as the fangs retracted back into your gums, eyes returning to normal. All you could do was stare at him, as if he had asked the most stupid question in the world. Smartest man in the room your ass.

“Who else’s would it be?”

“Don’t know, thats why I’m asking. Flag and I got into a fight earlier and I totally won, so I’m just wondering.”

“Oh.”

He leans back against the countertop, facing you now, the sleeves of his hoodie protecting him from burning through the granite. Part of him had always intrigued you, in a way, everyone but Weasel had a signature outfit; but him? A hoodie and a pair of sweatpants. It was almost comical how simple he was, though you supposed there wasnt much he could keep. A step towards him, wincing at the sudden realization of what you had done.

His gaze followed yours, looking down to the glass and blood that gushed from your feet and ankles. The light from the fridge and his green glow illuminated the space between you two, dancing off the shards on the floor. Your mouth was covered as well, sloppily wiped onto your cheeks as you had feasted. God, you looked a mess, but the pain distracted you from that fact. Biting your bottom lip to muffle a pathetic whimper of pain.

“Cmon don’t cry, what’s a little glass among friends?”

“I am not crying.”

If he had eyes to roll no doubt he would’ve. Stepping over to you and hooking an arm around your shoulder to help you stand without any warning. Your first instinct is to fight him off, to tell him no and shout at him, but you don’t. Instead, you lean into the touch and allow him to help you hobble up the stairs to, what you originally assume to be your room, but soon discover he’s guiding you into his, and then, into his bathroom.

Theres something almost intimate about the way he grabs your hips to help you onto the counter so he can patch you up. You hadn’t asked this from him, but it didn’t seem to matter much now as he filled a bucket with warm soapy water, dunking a rag in a few times and using the help of tweezers to pick the glass out of your skin. You do your best not to flinch, using the time to preoccupy yourself with washing off the blood from your face.

John 13. You detest the thought, Belle Reave had ripped every ounce of belief from your body, but the ceremonies and rituals of your youth had not quite left your mind, and the intimacy of the moment didn’t help. Silence filled the room, the only noises being the soft sounds of the wash cloth being dunked into the water and squeezed out. You’d seen it before, a relatives wedding, the washing of the feet ceremony. It’s meant to be intimate, to be between spouses, to show commitment and love just as Jesus had to his disciples. You feel far more like Judas, however, with the monster that festers inside you.

“So. What was that?” His voice snaps you from your thoughts, eyes fluttering down to look at him, hesitating at his question. You don’t have a good answer, not one that wraps everything up into a neat bow at the least. Just what you know, which isn’t much.

“It’s the reason I’m classified as a monster. Theres… something that lives inside me, a devil of sorts I was always told. It’s been there for as long as I can remember, its why I had to wear the collar back in confinement. It starts to creep out whenever I slip, get too comfortable or let my guard down.” You’re quiet, not wanting to break the softness of this encounter. “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

“You don’t have to apologize. We’re all freaks, its the whole point of this task force.”

“I guess. I’m still sorry.”

A huff comes from Phosphorus as he grabs a clean washcloth, dunking it in fresh water and reaching up to wipe off some of the blood that you had missed, that still marrs your mouth and flesh. He’s close, now, very much so. He smells of sulfur, though it does not cause you to recoil or scrunch your nose; its a scent you’ve grown accustomed to with the monster that shares your body. Can a skeleton be attractive? Is that possible?

You lean into the feeling of the warm washcloth against your cheek; having been so long since someone had touched you. Before you had been arrested you indulged in sin, lust, it had engulfed your body and it wasn’t a feeling you ever wanted to encounter again. How it could consume your entire being, give control over to someone other than yourself. It’s a fine line for you, but you feel the distantly familiar feeling of butterflies flutter in your stomach at the proximity of him.

You feel sick; like bile will creep up your throat any moment, but it doesn’t feel bad. Not with how he lets the cloth be a barrier between the two of you, between his hands that will burn your body at his touch. You’d welcome it, to let him cauterize your wounds and fix you. Your hands creep up to wrap around the back of his neck, protected by the hood of his sweater as you pull him closer. He’s warm, comfortable.

“I don’t like you apologizing, you look like a kicked puppy.”

“You’re smiling, though.”

“Can’t help it, I’m a skeleton, doll.”

His voice is a giveaway, though, possibly the most upbeat you had heard him despite the quiet and intimate nature of the room. You feel it, the radiating warmth from his other hand creeping down to your thigh, rubbing soft, soothing circles against the fabric that protects your skin from his touch. It would hurt, but a part of you almost welcomes it, wants to feel it.

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes focused on the hand that slowly crept higher from your thigh. He’s close, his heat rivaling that at your core. You miss the way his head tilts to the side at your demeanor, hands grasping and releasing the fabric of his hoodie over and over.

Phosphorus said nothing as he continued to wipe some of the blood from your mouth, lingering over your bottom lip while his other hand becomes preoccupied with cupping you over your pajama pants, skeletal fingers pressing in to give you some friction.

That nausea you had felt earlier returns tenfold, punishing yourself for feeling anything remotely good. The situation reminds you far too much of the last time, dipping too far into bliss. It seemed you had only blinked when the body of the lover you had found for the night was strewn across the room, spitting half eaten entrails out of your maw. He guides you to lean back against the mirror, your hand clasping over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he slips below the fabric of your nightwear.

You can feel it again, the hunger that rises to your chest. Your hands shake against your skin now, nailbeds aching with the growing of your talons. A whimper, squeezing your eyes shut. You are selfish, greedy. You’d rather relish in this than warn him, to have one moment that allows you to feel human, to feel wanted and loved.

A sudden burning feeling rips you from your thoughts, your hand had been removed from its post over your mouth and was held in his. Tears well in your eyes at the feeling, the searing pain that washed over your body and forces you to see white. It aches, branding you.

“Shit.” Is all that falls from his mouth, moving his hand away before you needily grasp it once more. Intertwining your fingers, keeping him there. The pain had forced the monster away, talons no longer threatening to protrude from your nailbeds and spine ceasing its contorting. You are lucky, graced with an opportunity to feel something beneath the endless pit in your stomach. To feel him.

“Don’t stop.” Your breathless words are more than enough to encourage his continuation, slotting himself between you legs and pressing the suddenly tight fabric of his sweatpants against you. A soft sigh falling from your lips, head tilted back, hair fluffing up on the mirror as he began to rock against you.

“I wont.” Slow, at first, as if testing the waters to gauge your reaction. Soft whines emitting from somewhere behind the skeletal teeth that were on display for you. Your hand scrunches up his hoodie, dragging his chest closer to you as he began to pick up the pace.

Needy and pathetic, his hips grinding rougher against your pajama pants, the tent in his pants catching on your covered clit; pulling a gasp from you as you arched your back. He focused his movements in that spot, up and then down to elicit soft whines and moans from you. Matching his neediness, having been touched starved for so long.

You’d grown up with depictions of heaven, imaginary white fluffy clouds somewhere high above the Earth. But here, right now, you’re more than convinced this is paradise. Rough fabrics rocking against each other, keeping you grounded on the countertop you sit on, the mirror behind you beginning to fog up with your heavy breathing. Your hands still intertwined, the harsh stinging drowned out at the near bliss you faced.

Hes sloppy now, nearing his finish far faster than you despite your state. Harsh whines fall from him as he grinds against you a few more times before panting and leaning against you. He’s winded for a moment, catching his breath, though the hand not holding yours travels back down to rub against your core.

Hes rough, guiding you to gush around nothing. You can feel your heartbeat below, drumming uncomfortably as you bury your face in the neck of his hoodie. His hand slips below your pajamas once more, continuing to tease your swollen clit and soaked folds as tears pricked at your eyes, squeezing his hand to single for him to stop.

Within a moment, he did. Ceasing the torment though not removing his hand from under your pants. Allowing your juices to pool against the cotton of your underwear before guiding his hand lower, placing his palm flat against your thigh and removing his other hand from yours. It stings, the cleansing fire emitting from him, your hand already burned as he brands your thigh with his handprint.

“Perhaps we should act like this didn’t happen… I’m sure it would make being on a team awkward.”

“I-... Yeah. Agreed. I should, um, head to bed.” Awkward you lift yourself from the counter and fix your pajama pants, slipping off the granite and setting against the cold tile floor. Your feet still hurt, though not nearly as bad as they had hurt before and surely nothing in comparison to the feeling of him against your skin.

He gives little more than a nod as you slink out the door, stumbling down the hall to find your own room and quickly running a hot bath. It would soothe you, make everything better, you deemed. Stripping to allow yourself to sink into the warmth as a sigh falls from your lips, eyes drawn to the handprint marked on your thigh.

You trace the outline with your finger, over and over almost obsessively and silently cursing him for his words. An asshole, you remembered, your least favorite in the little ragtag team. Though, with the way he had whimpered and moaned against you, you were halfway convinced you may be able to fuck the sarcasm and ill wit out of him.

#doctor phosphorus #dr phosphorus #creature commandos #creature commandos dc #smut #x reader #doctor phosphorus x reader #dr phosphorus x reader #i need that radioactive man so bad

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rayroseu · 11 months ago

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SILVER'S BIRTHDAY SSR 😭😭😭🤍🤍🤍🤍

source

I SEE WHAT YOU DID

SILVERS PORTRAITS FEATURES THE ARTOWRKS MALLEUS AND LILIA WAS LOOKING AT IN THEIR GROOVY AKIDKQJFJS THIS IS EVERYTHING!!! 😭😭😭✨✨💖💖💕💞 Its like its implyibg theyre his family...

Because in Lilia's pre groovy, it was the goons and Maleficent, symbolizing his "family/home" are his soldiers and the Draconia family

And in Malleus' case, it was Maleficent and Diablo, which are Meleanor and Levan 😭😭✨💞💕

So Silver SINCERELY thinks Lilia and Malleus are his home/family... even if the ones reflected here are the heroes of Sleeping beauty and lowkey the Silver Owls (Philip/Aurora=Dawn/Leah and The 3 good fairies=Dawn's guardian fairies), The fact these are acfually from the cards of Malleus and Lilia kind of implies that even if hes from Silver Owls, the ones that really raised him up/perfectly embodies who he is would be Malleus and Lilia KSJAKJDD

IM CRASHING AAAAAAAA SILVERRRR YOUUUUSBSJSJFBW PLEASE MALLEUS AND LILIA GO HUG YOUR LITTLE PRINCEEEE 😭😭😭😭🤍🤍🤍

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awearywritersworld · 1 year ago

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men are so quick to blame the gods

ryomen sukuna x reader summary: your boyfriend is a heavy sleeper, leaving you to form an unlikely relationship with the curse occupying his body during the late hours of the night. w/c: 2.6k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst/fluff. aged up!yuuji. sa is mentioned but it's pretty much just sukuna saying he doesn't condone it. heavy kissing. obvi features yuuji x reader but it's not at all the focus. cursing. sukuna calls you kitten. i'd like to think he's not too ooc in this but im probably delusional. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: am i rehabbing our handsome vicious psychopath? yes<3 loosely inspired by this post (features manga spoilers) of him being v beautiful and poetic series masterlist // masterlist

humans have always irritated the king of curses— pathetic little vermin scurrying around, utterly oblivious to their own weakness.

so it came as quite a shock to him when he awoke after over a millenia, only to find himself trapped inside the body of some teenaged brat.

nearly 7 years later and he's positive there isn't a person he despises more in the universe. not even the cocky six eyes wielder can elicit sukuna's fury the way itadori yuuji so easily does.

that's why he resolved early on to kill his vessel's pretty little girlfriend, an act he hopes might satiate his spite. he's positive nothing would devastate yuuji more.

luckily for you, life has a funny way of working.

you and yuuji are standing at an intersection in the city, the pink-haired man staring at his phone as he tries to piece together the directions to a new sushi restaurant you've been wanting to try.

when the pedestrian sign on the other side of the street blinks, you step out onto the pavement without checking for oncoming traffic.

"what the-" yuuji's confused voice fills your ears just as a rough hand wraps around your wrist, yanking you backward violently.

a car barrels through the spot you'd just been standing, the driver clearly not paying attention to the traffic signal. you look back just in time to see harsh black marks fading from your boyfriend's arm, though the rest of his body has seemingly remained unblemished.

it's an odd sensation for yuuji because he's never lost control to sukuna in such a manner. he doesn't dwell on it long though, as anger blossoms in his chest.

"do not touch her," he scolds the curse occupying his body.

a mouth appears on his cheek and scoffs. "sure. i'll just let her die next time."

"it's okay, yu," you interject before he can retaliate. "thanks, sukuna. i, uh, appreciate it."

he grumbles something incomprehensible, his mouth quickly disappearing. your boyfriend looks at you bemused, but you only shrug. the fact that yuuji had lost control to sukuna doesn't make you feel nervous or threatened. you're grateful that he kept you from being run over, albeit a bit surprised.

as you continue your walk to the the sushi restaurant, you find yourself not quite able to meet yuuji's eye because... well... you haven't exactly been forthright regarding your relationship with the king of curses.

the first night it happens, you're laying in bed eagerly finishing the final volume of a manga you've been reading. yuuji is fast asleep and has been for hours, though you're used to being the night owl in the relationship.

you keep wiping at your eyes, the cheerful ending tugging at your heartstrings and tying the story together in a beautiful way.

"can you stop with your incessant sniveling? this idiot's brain is so rarely quiet and you're ruining it."

you look over to see the eye beneath your boyfriend's is open, staring at you scornfully.

"can you fuck off?" your tone is obviously meant to mock him. "i'm finishing one of my favorite mangas and you're ruining it."

"need i remind you of your place, brat?" he sneers. "it's dreadfully wretched, crying because you don't like the ending to some stupid story."

"since you're so clearly invested, i'll have you know i'm crying because i do like it."

"..and here i thought you couldn't get any more pathetic."

your eye twitches in annoyance. "just because you're mad about being stuck in 'some idiot human's body' doesn't mean you have to go around projecting your feelings of inadequacy onto other people."

you move your hand to cover the mouth on your boyfriend's cheek before sukuna can respond, hissing out in pain just a moment later.

"oh my god, you actually bit me." you inspect the teethmarks on your palm in disbelief.

"just wait until i win control of this body— the punishment you deserve for such insolence. you'd better hope you're miles away, but even then—"

"holy shit, enough already. i'll go to sleep. enjoy your peace and quiet," you growl angrily, flipping off the lamp and turning away from him. for some reason, you still find yourself mumbling, "good night."

sukuna's eye widens before promptly closing, the silence hanging in the air heavily. it's the longest conversation he's had in years and the first casual pleasantry he's heard in a millenia. he tries to feel satisfied that he got what he wanted in the end, before returning to his quiet solitude.

over the next few months, your late nights are graced somewhat frequently by the king of curses. he mainly complains— the friends you hung out with earlier were annoying, the tv's too loud, it took yuuji twenty minutes to exorcise a curse that sukuna could have dealt with in seconds.

it doesn't bother you nearly as much anymore and he's no longer able to get under your skin like he did that first night. it seems as if he's losing his touch, or perhaps he just isn't trying as hard.

it's around one in the morning, a book resting in your lap while your boyfriend snores softly beside you. sukuna's eye pops open, peering over at the text. "you're reading homer?"

your body jerks, startled by his sudden question, but you recover soon thereafter. "yeah, were you two friends or something?"

"no, you fool," he derides. "he lived far before my time."

though you don't comment on it, you find it amusing that your sarcasm had gone over his head. "oh, you're right. how silly of me to think you had friends."

"such profound witticism. i can hardly contain myself."

you sneak a glance over to find he's narrowed his eye at you and you actually giggle. "sorry."

it doesn't dawn on you how bizarre the interaction is, but sukuna abruptly realizes that something feels different. not once before tonight had he made you laugh.

he pushes the thought from his mind. "i did, however, indulge in his works during the heian period."

"really?" you perk up. it's not often you give him your full attention. "what'd you think?"

"i suppose i liked him well enough. one of my favorite lines comes from the poem you're reading."

you motion your hand for him to continue. "well don't be shy. i'm sitting here with bated breath."

he rolls his eye, but speaks nonetheless.

"men are so quick to blame the gods— they say that we devise their misery..." you realize for the first time how gruff his voice is, the deep reverberations sending a shudder down your spine. "but they themselves, in their depravity, design grief greater than the griefs that fate assigns."

his eye flickers between each of yours before you look back to your book, fiddling with the corner of the page. you're suddenly feeling rather shy. "does that mean you think humans are even crueler than you?"

he muses over your question briefly.

"if i recounted how men would flee the villages i burned, leaving their families behind in a selfish attempt to save themselves.. who would you find more revolting?

you swallow nervously. "i.. i don't know."

"what if i told you of the men who would eagerly offer their wives and daughters to me, hoping i'd spare them.. who would you deem more wicked?"

you're so busy avoiding his gaze that you don't see the way he carefully regards you. a question you're unsure you want the answer to tumbles from your lips before you can stop it. "did you accept? the.. the husbands' offers—"

"no," he responds. "i have little interest in unwilling partners."

"oh. well that's, um, good."

he hums in response, leaving you to process everything he's told you.

"you should stop," you blurt out eventually.

"stop what?"

"being nice to me." you wouldn't normally consider discussing literature then reminiscing about the egregious stories of his past life particularly kind, but then again, it is sukuna you're speaking with. "it's weird."

he rolls his eye again. "you're hardly in any position to be giving me orders, you insufferable brat."

"see? that's much better."

"why are you crying?" his tone is even, conveying neither annoyance or concern. truthfully, he has no idea what compelled him to ask in the first place.

you don't answer, hoping he'll leave you alone. you really don't have it in you tonight, even if sukuna's been much more tolerable recently. it's been weeks since you finished reading homer's epic poem.

the moon is already setting and it's just a few days before your date at the sushi restaurant.

when you sniffle again, he calls your name. you don't register that he doesn't say brat or idiot. it's the first time he's used your actual name.

"w-what do you want?"

"i seem to recall asking you a question."

you're laying on your side, facing away from yuuji and by extension, sukuna.

"i'm not crying," you declare.

sukuna briefly wonders why he's stuck dealing with you while yuuji sleeps, but his inward 'annoyance' is half hearted. "you're an awful liar."

you exhale and turn to look at him. the only light in the room is coming from the tv, but it's enough that he can see you clearly. "sometimes.. i can't help but worry about the execution."

yuuji has told you countless times that gojo has a plan, that he won't let anything happen, but you know what the higher ups are capable of.

and while it's down right shameful, you know that much, it's not only your boyfriend you worry about these days. sukuna's become so commonplace in your life, you almost look forward to talking with him at night.

"the thought of losing yuuji... of losing.. you.. it scares me," you murmur.

your words stir up feelings he's never once experienced and it's confusing to him. "i'd have figured you'd at least be pleased to be rid of me."

"well, i-i kind of thought we were friends now," you share without thinking.

"don't flatter yourself."

he regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth and the guilt he feels as he watches your face fall is unbecoming of a being so powerful. you apologize meekly, shifting (too late) to hide your hurt.

he can't remember a moment in which he's hated being trapped in his vessel's god forsaken body more. he wants to reach out to you, even if the idea feels entirely foreign to him.

but he can't, so he just sighs. "if you think i'm going to let a few feebleminded sorcerers execute me and the brat, you're even more foolish than i thought."

you peer at him, the smallest smile gracing your lips when you realize that's probably as close to an apology as sukuna would ever get.

"promise?"

for fuck's sake. he feels utterly pathetic. completely deplorable. laughable, even—

"yes," he states impassively. "now go to sleep."

"okay." your smile is just a little wider as your fingertips brush the spot below his eye and above his mouth. you wonder if he can even feel it. "good night, sukuna."

"...night, brat."

less than a week after sukuna saves your life at the intersection, yuuji kisses you goodbye as he heads out to a mission. he assures you he'll be early tonight, as he only has to exorcise a semi-grade one cursed spirit in roppongi.

though things don't go quite as planned because in addition to the semi-grade, he finds himself standing before two special grades. he manages to defeat one of the special grades, but the other two leave him badly hurt, his breathing labored.

he has to beg sukuna to switch out with him. the king of curses hasn't forgotten his promise to you and he's no fool— it's clear this is an ambush by the higher ups— but he'll be damned if he wasn't going to have a little fun with the brat first.

he makes quick work of the curses, each of them going rigid with fear as soon as he appears, and it soon becomes apparent that yuuji is too weakened to take back control of his body just yet.

at last, sukuna has his long yearned for freedom and a new world at his fingertips, but there's just one problem... all he wants to do is find you.

when the lock to your apartment clicks, your eyes shift to the door, an excited grin on your face. you can't hide your shock when it isn't your boyfriend that steps inside.

you don't say anything at first, simply following his frame across the room as he approaches you. he leans against the wall a few feet away from where you're sitting on the couch, folding his arms across his chest.

"seems your concerns about the execution weren't unwarranted."

"w-what?!" you exclaim, rising to your feet and taking a step toward him. "what happened?"

he relays the story to you, emphasizing how 'unimpressive' yuuji's power was and how 'terribly simple' it was for him to finish the job his vessel couldn't.

you narrow your eyes at him, only half joking when you ask, "what are you doing here, then? shouldn't you be off pillaging tokyo or something?"

he chuckles. "such a dark mind you have. it wounds me to hear you assume the worst of me."

you bite your lip to hide your smile. "just figured it'd save time."

he closes the space between you and though you can feel the heat radiating from his body, you don't shy away from him. instead, your eyes trail over the dark lines adorning his face and chest.

he reaches up and your breath catches in your throat when the back of his fingers ghost over your neck. his nails graze your skin and a sly smirk forms on his face. "aren't you frightened? it'd be all too easy to kill a little thing like you."

"but you won't."

he can't tell if your assuredness pisses him off, but it certainly makes his heart rate pick up. his hand now occupies the space where your neck meets your shoulder, his touch surprisingly gentle. "what has you so convinced?"

"well you saved me, didn't you? and.. and you kept your promise."

he hums in response and your hand seems to act of its own accord when it reaches up to rest atop his. any lingering sense of amusement is gone in an instant, the air now fraught with tension.

"so why are you here, sukuna?" you murmur.

the king of curses has never known goodness. he's wrought untold destruction and misery, his name inspiring fear even after millenia. he's a legend— a god, even— yet here you are staring up at him and he swears the look in your eyes is almost tender.

"i don't know."

"and you had the nerve to call me an awful liar."

you know you're taking a risk when you lean up and press your lips to his. he freezes for a moment before his mouth begins to move against yours tentatively. his arm stays at his side, so you grab his hand, moving it to your waist.

it's as if that flips a switch in sukuna. he backs you up against the wall somewhat roughly and you can feel him smile against your lips when you let out a squeak of surprise.

he uses the opportunity to take your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging at it before moving to your neck with the intention of leaving a trail of marks across your delicate flesh.

you know you should care, but you just can't bring yourself to tell him to stop. you're too preoccupied with the feeling. he revels in the little gasps he's pulling from your throat, in the way you grab weakly at his biceps.

"you are divine, kitten," he growls. "been waiting so long to touch you."

just as he finishes speaking, he pulls back a few inches and his body stiffens.

"damn it. not now, you stupid brat—"

the words die in his throat as the black lines begin to fade and you're met with the perplexed face of your boyfriend. he breaths out your name, clearly worried. "what.. what happened?"

#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #ryomen sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff

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