#they r very silly and dear to me

[casmiick]

you felonious fiend 😠 !!!

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

i love my curse user!reader sm because they’re soooo fucking pathetic . they have beef with several children . they live with their ex. said ex has two daughters who want them Gone. they can only sleep comfortably if they’re hugging one of their curses. they pick a fight with everyone they interact with (and laugh while getting their ass beat.) they’re sooooo lonely. they reject help they reject healing they still stare at suguru’s smile in the only picture they have of him. etcetc

[aroacesigma]

love how sigmas like . the most babygirl to ever babygirl . hes a real sweetheart who will happily help a random customer out . but also they'll blow your fucking brains out with the gun he has in his fancy ass coat for some reason .

[noxtivagus]

DEATH UNTO DAWN ON SPOTIFY 🥹🫶🏼

[lady-of-tearshed]

Adore you

Cassian x plus size!Reader

A/N: Happy birthday to my mentor and very dear friend, @sarawritestories 💕 Hope you'll like this good old filthy smut with your favorite bat boy. Enjoy!

Sumarry: Nesta forces you to buy the set of lingerie you told her you found pretty despite your insecurities. Cassian, your mate, hopefully knows exactly how to soothe those insecurities of yours.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: SMUT. Rated 18+. Mature content. Weight insecurities. Spanking. Biting. Oral (f receiving).

Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears 💕

“Nes- Stop it! That clearly won’t look flattering on me.”

“You said it looked good on the model!”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the same shape!” You complain, trying to resist as your friend keeps stubbornly pushing you inside the fitting room.

She frowns at you, shoving the meticulously sewed lingerie in your hands, and closes the curtain right in front of your face. Maybe the light curtain wouldn’t be really helpful to keep you inside the cabin, but the thought of Nesta’s fury if you didn’t at least try on the outfit definitely is convincing enough to stop you from trying to escape the fitting room.

“Come out when you’re done saying bullshit! You’re a fucking goddess, it’s time you realize it for yourself!” She practically shouts, making your whole face turn bright red, a perfect matching color of the pretty set of said little unmentionable. You clearly have made a mistake by admitting to your friend that you find this lingerie set pretty. You shimmer out of your clothes before she can get you even more flustered by practically getting all of the shop attention’s on your silly little fight. You make a quick work to slip into the lingerie.

Nesta is right on one thing. It does quite look good on you.

Stupid, stupid Nesta!

Your heart is pounding in your chest as you keep still, waiting for your mate to come home from the mission Rhys had sent him off to. You stand there up straight, right behind the front door of the house of the wind, wearing only the light lacy red fabric.

That, and a matching silk nightgown you had insisted on buying with it.

“Why?! You’re going to cover up every interesting thing!” Nesta gasps when you add the silky nightgown on the counter to pay.

“Well it’s either that, or I’m never wearing this again!” You scowl at her, already questioning the decision of your purchase.

You roll your eyes at the memory, and you tuck the nightgown closer to your slightly cold body. The fire in the hearth crackles, and the heat coming from it soon warms up the room. “Thanks,” You chuckle, and the lights flicker, as if the house was giggling too. What a nosy house…

Cassian, as usual, almost barges inside your shared home, the house of the wind being gifted from Rhysand to the pair of you as a mating gift. No wonder why Azriel is the spy master of this court and not him. Delicacy is clearly NOT your mate’s thing, except on certain occasions. The freezing weather of the Illyria’s mountains seeks quickly into the house, brushing against your skin as the house tries to keep the room warm. Cassian just stands there, chin falling all the way down to the floor, dumbstruck. He looks quite funny like this, only one boot off and the door handle still in hand.

“Cass… It’s huh…” You gulp, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious of how little you were wearing in comparison to him, “It’s cold.”

Cassian jaw closes, and he makes quick work to close the door and drop down his weapons right in front of the door. He doesn’t even bother to align his boots on the carpet, leaving the entryway in a mess. Usually, you would have scolded him for not putting his things back in their usual spot, but the way his eyes are devouring you on the spot… It leaves you speechless.

A breath you didn’t even know you were holding escapes your lips when his cold hand brushes against your cheek, lifting your head up to meet his burning eyes. “How was your day?” You whisper the question, it has become an automatism in your routine. He would come back home from the camps or whatever mission he was sent to, and then he’d tell you all about his day, then ask about yours.

“It’s about to get a whole damn lot better…” He growls into your ear, the nibbles he leaves on your lobe sends jolts of electricity up your spine. “How was yours, princess?” He asks, kissing his way down your neck, leaving a warm wet trail on his way down to your collarbone.

“Good, I went shopping, uh-” You gulp, words impossible to form logical sentences when he is relishing on your skin like that.

His hands fall to your hips, squeezing them lightly as he urges you to keep talking. “You did, huh?” His fingers gently pull the bow of your nightgown, but you flinch slightly, your hands moving to stop his instinctively before the last piece of clothing covering you can fall open. He lifts his face from your neck quickly, his eyes frantically searching your face as he tucks your nightgown closer to your body in order to comfort you. “I’m so sorry, love, I should’ve-”

“No, no,” You cut him off by pressing your fingers to his lips.

He takes your hand in his gently, placing gentle kisses on each of them, then on the palm of your hand, your wrist… His eyes were soft, begging for you to explain, to tell him what made you uncomfortable. He silently leads you to the couch for you to sit down and talk with him, offering you the option of either sitting on his lap or on the spot beside him. When you settle for his laps, his arms carefully wraps around your waist, attentive to each of your movements, ready to stop at any sign of discomfort showing on that pretty face of yours.

His thumb traces soft circles on your hip, his eyebrows scrunched with worry. “Tell me what’s wrong,” He whispers, his eyes pleading. You hide your face in his neck, raising your knees to your chest and sigh, his santal wood scent immediately calming down your nerves.

“I just… I got scared that you wouldn’t like how I look behind that silky thing…” Cassian raises a brow, pulling you further up his lap to get a closer look into your eyes. His face was the face of a general now, the way he is staring at you is firm, his hazel eyes deadly serious.

“Will you please let me prove you, princess, how fucking much I love this body of yours?” You can feel his breath fanning on your lips as he speaks, a wicked temptation to kiss them sparks in you. You clutch tightly onto his leathers, the soft glow of his siphons and the fire dancing in the hearth illuminating the room in a soft glow. He could see your every feature in this light, this would be in no way a similar experience to everytime you and Cassian had made love, in the darkness of your shared bedroom. If you agreed, you would agree to him seeing you fully, every shape of you, on every angle. You would lay bare, naked, vulnerable in front of your mate.

The thought only made your arousal grow, and Cassian nostril flared at the sweet scent of it. He almost growled at the smell and trepidation, still waiting for your consent. You nod, biting your lips softly, but actions aren’t enough for Cassian, he needs words. “Do you want me to worship you, Princess? Will you let me adore your body the way it deserves to be?”

You clench your thighs together for some friction at the sound of his deep, guttural voice. You were desperate for him, all insecurities vanishing at the way his eyes shine with lust and delight when he looks at you. “Yes, I want you to. Please.”

He doesn’t wait for you to ask him twice before he quickly bends you over his lap, your chest pressing against the soft pillows of the couch. He growls, bringing your hips closer to his already rock-hard member. He bucks slightly against them, his hands working on massaging your thighs. “Such beautiful legs you have, Princess… And those delicious thighs…” He wraps his hand around your ankle, lifting the lower part of your leg up, and brings his mouth to bite down the soft flesh of your calf.

You moan at the pleasurable pain of his teeth sinking into the sensitive flesh, and your ass lifts up on his own. You feel his hardness twitch against your hip as it brushes against his length from your movement, your arousal shifting even more at the thought of the effect you have on your mate by just being sprawled over his muscular thighs in your little nightgown. A gasp flies from your lips at the burning sensation of Cassian’s large calloused hand meeting your plumped ass with a small smack. A warning. “Stay still for me, pretty girl, will you?” He pins your hips back down, the peak of your very lightly clothed core brushing against his leathered work pants. You nod frantically, your mind already too dazed by your arousal to think straight.

Cassian moves his tongue flat against the reddish mark he just left on your calve, groaning against your skin as if he’s devouring the most delicious thing, which is kind of what he’s doing. “I said will you?” He whispers, his voice so gutural, so primal, it makes you even more soaked than you already are. As if he senses it, his fingers release your ankle and he slides the silky fabric of your robe up, still waiting for your answer.

“Yes.” You breathe out your answer, already panting in anticipation.

“Yes what, Y/N.”

You gulp, your name rolling off your mate’s tongue feels like the most sensual caress in your ears. “Yes, Cassian, I will stay still for you. I promise.” You whine, begging for his fingers to keep touching you.

“You’re so perfect…” He purrs, gently brushing his knuckles against your newly exposed skin, enjoying the ridges on your thighs against his fingers, caused by the cellulite. You almost swear that you can hear his naughty little smirk when he speaks, even though you don’t dare move your head to see it for yourself. You keep your chin down onto the pillow, staying very still. “Mind to remind us of our safe word, Princess?”

“Our safe word is Siphon.” You whimper, feeling his fingers moving dangerously close to where you need him the most.

“Good girl.”

His fingers push the lacy fabric away from your core, exposing your glistening naked sex to him. He hums in content at the sight, and slowly slides his fingers through your folds, still not penetrating you, only coating them with your natural lube. Your inner walls clench around nothing, begging to have him inside of you. You instinctively squirm, dying to feel him closer, and you realize your mistake, unfortunately too late.

Cassian tuts and moves his fingers away from your sex, sucking them clean, not wasting any drop of your essence. After unbearable seconds of silence, Cassian dries his now clean fingers on the fabric of your nightgown. “What did I tell you, Princess…” He sighs, lightly scolding you.

You whine, and turn your head to look at him, tauntingly pouting. “To stay still?”

“To stay still,” He confirms, groping your right buttcheek tightly, his finger digging into your skin hard enough to mark what’s his. “And did you stay still?” He teases, now stroking the curve of your ass.

“No…” You mutter, and his hand lands on your other buttcheek in response, a pleasurable tingling sensation soothed by the sweet caress of his palm right after.

You squeal and giggle when he suddenly pulls you over his shoulder in one swift movement. His teeth teasingly nibbles your belly rolls, then, with one last little smack on your ass, he leads you to the bed. The way he lays you down on the mattress is gentle, careful, mirroring all of his love for you.

He pulls on your hips, dragging your ass right on the edge of the bed. “Now rest on your elbows, and I want those stunning eyes of yours to stay focused on mine. Got it this time?” He orders, like the general that he is. You simply nod, earning a teasing grin out of him. He undresses quickly, his length springing free of his trousers to slap against his abs. Just as you thought that he was about to pound into you, Cassian sinks to his knees and settles your knees onto his shoulders.

You mentally paint the image in your head. Your mate, the lord of bloodshed’s face framed by your thighs, tying up his hair, about to slide into battle.

Well, more like about to slide his tongue all over you.

Cassian’s large, calloused hands slide under your butt cheeks and yank you closer to his face. His lips are so close that you can feel his breath on your sex, but you stay still, even though your instincts are screaming into your head to just buck your hips and rub yourself against his face. Sensing your impatience, Cassian chuckles a little, but quickly ends your suffering by licking your core on all its length. You want to throw your head back and let your eyes fall at the back of your head, but remember Cassian’s two simple rules.

Stay still, and keep your eyes on your mate.

Cassian’s smirk grows as he keeps taking his sweet time relishing your sex, his eyes gleaming with lust, pride, and adoration. You could almost see “good girl” written in the darkness of his widely dilated pupils. He picks up the pace of his tongue, flicking the bundle of nerves settled at the apex of your cunt occasionally. Your legs start to tremble as your orgasm grows closer. “Cass…” You whimper, and he digs his fingers into the soft flesh of your hips, pinning you tightly to the bed so you can stay still and let him do his job. He wraps his lips around your clit, and sucks it hard, releasing it with an audible pop as you come undone all over his face.

Predictable. He knows you, and your body, all too well.

Cassian’s hazel eyes never leave yours as your whole body quivers with spasms from your orgasm. It’s only once you slowly start to get back to your senses that he looks away from your eyes to peer down at the bow tie of your still closed nightgown. He flicks his thumb over his lip, sucking off all of the remnants of your juices, then raises to his feets. His fingers unties the silky fabric in one swift movement, and he’s very quick to remove it from you, revealing the taunting lingerie you’re wearing. He bites his lower lip and growls. “Mh… Princess…” His hands move up to cup your breasts, flicking his thumb over your perked nipples . “So fucking beautiful…” He moves his head down, to the side of your stomach, and bites down on your belly rolls.

Cassian makes sure to leave a path of hickeys as he makes his way up to your mouth, marking every place his lips have explored, and enjoyed. His face then lifts up, and he crashes his lips on yours. His fingers tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, and he pulls them back to tilt your head. You moan, and he takes that opportunity to slide his tongue against yours. You slide your hands to grip onto his shoulders, then he pulls away, both of your breathless from the searing kiss. “See how good you taste? Do you understand why I’m addicted to it now, why I’m addicted to you?”

You grin shyly, but nod in confirmation. “Yes, I think I'm starting to understand…” You stroke his cheek, and kiss his lips lovingly. “Good… Now, get on your hands and knees, Y/N.” You shiver at the tone of his voice, but obey. You feel him moving behind you, then hear the flick of the bedside lamp. Underneath this light, even if the lightning was dull, Cassian could see all of you. You hear him pick up something, and walk around the bed before he appears in your field of vision.

With your vanity mirror that he settles on the wall facing you, exposing the reflection of your practically nude body, chest down and ass up.

“Look at you…” He says, walking back behind you, staring at your reflection in the mirror. And you can see it clearly now, the way he looks at you, as if you were some of those Day Court marble statues. You stare back at yourself in the mirror, looking at you.

And for the first time in a whole damn while, you really see yourself. Like he does. You feel…

“Ravishing,” Cassian praises, his fingers moving your underwear to the side. He didn’t want for one second to remove that breathtaking lingerie off of your magnificent curves. He presses his tip against your burning core, then bucks his hip to sheath in completely.

He tilts his head back as your inner walls squeeze around him perfectly, his fingers tightly gripping onto your hips. He forces his eyes back onto the mirror to stare at you, and he is delighted to see how your face, his mate’s face, twitches with pleasure, your eyes cock drunk at the feeling of being so full. “Cauldron Y/N, take what you need. Fuck yourself onto me, princess.”

You moan, his words making you unbearably hot and needy. You move your hips, thrusting yourself onto him as your soft inner walls needily clutch around his cock. Cassian throws his head back, his hand squeezing your ass in encouragement. “That’s it, make yourself feel good. Just like that, fuck…” Tears prickle your eyes as your hips roll against his, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, and you feel you can see in the mirror how your legs shake from your growing pleasure.

Cassian, sensing that your legs were about to give up, lifts you up to his chest. He wraps one arm around your shoulders, and his other hand reaches down to circle your sensitive button. “I'm so close..” You mumble, surprised to still be able to articulate anything through the ecstasy of the moment.

The general growls into your ear, biting down onto your neck as he picks up the speed. “Me too, gorgeous. Me too.”

You cry out his name as his dick keeps hitting that mind-blowing spot inside of you. His hand leaves your clit, and his still wet fingers hold your chin, forcing your eyes to stare at the obscene reflection of you two. “Eyes on you, on us. Look how good you look princess…” He traces his hand up your side, his eyes fixed on your reflection. “How perfect we fit…” Your eyes dart to where your sex meets, and you reach your orgasm at the sight, head falling onto Cassian's shoulder, eyes hardly keeping focus on the mirror. His thrust grows sloppy as he spills inside of you, a guttural moan leaving his lips as he comes.

Cassian lifts you into his arms, slowly pulling out of you, and places you down comfortably in the middle of the bed. He joins you back in bed seconds later, a damp rag in hand. His movements are loving, careful, as he cleans you up in a comfortable silence while you both try to catch your breath. He unclasps all of your lingerie, discarding it into the laundry basket, before lying down and pulling you up into his arms, your head resting on his chest.

His fingers trace soothing circles on your back, and before you fall asleep completely, he kisses the shell of your ear, and whispers in it softly. “We should go shopping so I can buy you more of these… Soon.” You smile lazily, all of your worries about if these kinds of garments were made for your body type almost vanished. “You look pretty in anything, my love.”

You giggle softly, lifting your eyes up to meet Cassian’s confused expression. “You have a weird way to teach life lessons.”

His hazel eyes twinkle with mischief as he tucks a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear, stroking your cheek with his thumb. “Did it work, though? My little… lesson.” He wiggles his eyebrows, and you roll your eyes, snuggling closer to his chest, his arms embracing you tightly. They make you feel secure, and so incredibly loved.

“Yeah yeah. It worked.”

And without any more words needed, you both fall asleep in the comfort of each other's arms.

Taglist: @lilah-asteria @mybestfriendmademe

[frogchiro]

I hope I’m not bothering you with my ancient greek mythology stuff my little brain is going into overdrive👉👈

Just…sculptor/painter reader using the gladiators as her nude model…running your hands over their muscles and gushing how strong they are and how amazing your latest piece is going to come out!

You don’t even notice they’re getting hard as you run your fingers over their adonis belt commenting how they’re your new muse for your art

I almost (s)creamed the moment I saw this ask nonnie dear you're a genius ;;

Also I feel the need to mention this; please do keep in mind that this is only my silly au and most probably will have historical inaccuracies so if you're a true history/ancient greece/roman enjoyer, please go mild on me ;;

But back to the drill...You are so right??? Like...I imagine that reader would be a young, aspiring artist with a knack for painting. Maybe she doesn't come from a wealthy family so any true school for it is out of the question, your own parents only came along when you started selling your painting and doing commissions for nobles and it actually started to bring in money. Your road to success is still long but you're managing! Plus you're 'stupidly determined like your father' as your mother says so you try to stay positive!

The one problem you had was something you believed many artists suffered from; inspiration and models. Specifically human models. The human body and physique fascinated you from an early age, the moving muscles, facial expressions to different stimuli and so much more but...the problem were the models, or rather the lack thereof.

You could probably hire someone but the money spend on that would be way too much for your limited budget so the next best thing was the coliseum! It was a blessing in poor disguise, the gladiators trained there almost daily and luckily the head keeper of the arena begrudingly let you stay there and practice in exchange for a satchel of money but to be honest...the practice wasn't the only thing you longed for when visiting the coliseum almost daily, it was the gladiators.

They were huge, burly men in their prime, all of them looking like they were born with a sword or spear in hand and to grow up to become warrior and you'd be lying if you said that warmth didn't spread through your body and centered in your lower belly whenever these big, loud and boisterous men didn't call out for you and purred in dripping, low voices how pent up they are and what they wouldn't give for a pretty soft thing like you :((

The worst (or best) part was when you were practicing nude drawings which were equally fascinating and hard to draw, especially with all these men being so...shameless with it. You loved the human body, all artists do but still you were a young lady and watching all the gladiators walking around the barracks all naked and proud was...an experience to say the least and brought a pang of warmth between your thighs, especially when they were so happy to parade themselves like proud stallions in front of you :((

Strong, toned bodies glistening with sweat and water, their hardening cocks proudly on show whenever you run your soft hands over their toned torsos to study the way muscles move and twitch whenever you run your fingers over a sensitive spot, the most reactive being two of the many foreign gladiators, Johnny or like he insisted to be called 'Soap' and Kyle or 'Gaz', like he wants to be called.

These two are always purring low withing their chests to you as you look all over them, their backs, chests, stomachs, making you promise to do a special commission only for them but you're just nodding dumbly because you're too transfixed on the god-like bodies to draw :(

Another gladiator you're very fond of is a huge, blonde foreigner named Simon, or 'Ghost'. A formidable warrior, a veteran for sure, it looked like Ares himself send this one here to grace the people with a demigod of war. He was always incredibly patient with you, letting you roam your hands over his body and all the numerous scars decorating his skin. Once you saw Simon up close you immediately realized why people called him a demigod-he was beautiful. A strong and powerful man in his prime, his muscles jumping and twitching beneath his thick skin and a layer of fat, power and virility was literally radiating off of this man, and you insistently tried not to look at the long and thick cock hanging between his legs, twitching and pulsating with arousal whenever you marveled over his body and your fingers ran over his adonis belt <3

[pickingupmymercedes]

Lewis Masterlist

Series

It comes with the territory p.1 / p.2 / p.3

“This… this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But no love is worth losing my sanity over. Not even ours.”

An Invisible String Theory Story p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"I’ve always felt that string pulling me closer to something. But never, not even in my most beautiful dreams, had I imagined that it was to bind us together."

It was bound to come out p.1 / p.2

"Do I look like I'm joking? This is not a joke! My father has seen a video of us... the one video that couldn’t leave my phone!"

Not just a pretty face p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / bonus

"because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

Maybe in another life - p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"A what-if that will forever linger in the quiet corners of my mind."

She’s here and she’s ours - p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / p.4 / p.5 / p.6 / p.7

You couldn’t really tell if he was telling you or himself that. "How you feeling dad?" "Amazed, hopeful, scared... in love"

Get me out of here p.1 / p.2

“Why are you defending him?” “Because we need to think this through, babe. Toto’s not one of us anymore, you saw it.”

Your future was Ferrari - p.1 / p.2

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again. Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in. Or would he?!

Multichapters

Ways to say “I love you” p.1 / p.2 / p.3(NSFW)

All these little things p.1 / p.2

Small firsts p.1

Firsts - NSFW p.1 / p.2

Ways they show they love each other p.1 / p.2

One-Shots

Angst

It had to be enough - "I’m so fucking tired of fighting, of trying to prove that I still belong here." "I can’t keep watching you tear yourself apart like this. It’s killing me, Lewis."

Home is wherever you are - "You shouldn't have come" "Had to"

An impossible dream - "Don't you ever wonder what could have been?"

I didn't get scared. I'm always scared - “Do you even understand what it’s like for me? To love someone who lives every day like it might be their last?”

Not now, not ever - "You don't have to go through this alone, you know"

I'll come find you - “I’m scared… of how things have been, of how things are going to be.”

If these wings could fly - “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like Sunday. It’s been so long and everyone’s worked so hard for that”

And just like the sun, we will rise - “I can’t promise to have all the answers, but please let me in”

Fluffs

Happy you're home - "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

Later it is - “But that safety pin right there is holding on for dear life.” “I only care about what you think.” “Flatterer.”

Of thorns and blooms - "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread"

He always rises - "Like I knew I'd given it my all, every lap, every strategy meeting. And finally, finally, it’s paying off. It feels… good. It feels so damn good."

R for Roscoe, C for Coco - "You went through all this trouble just for Father's Day with Roscoe?"

Boy from Stevenage - "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

Whispered fairytale - "The point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

A thousand times over - "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me, again?"

It sounds silly - "I'm a grown woman who’s achieved success in life, yet… I find myself comparing to those other women."

NSFW (+18 only)

Very First -“I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

Salty -"Told you” she whispered, her thumb brushing against his bottom lip. "It’s salty."

Damn him -“I believe you’ve got two things that are mine” “My hair tie you took with you this morning. And you babe, you're mine.”

Give yourself some credit - “I’m gonna give you five minutes to mourn that shit qualy” “You think you can handle me, pretty girl?”

What those arms can do - "Let's focus on you for now, love. And what these arms can do to you."

Warm enough - "Did you know there were no doors in this place?" "I might have known. Thought it could be romantic"

It's not just a win - The 104 special - "I just...I needed this. I needed to win. To prove to myself that I still can."

Improvised Compensation - "My plans definitely involve you" he continued, "but they can be done anywhere"

As good as chocolate - "That's a new way to claim your share"

I'm yours, only yours - Vegas special - “You really thought she was any match for you?”

It always points South - “Your compass tattoo, huh?”

My Venus - MET special - "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

I want South - "Hello, miss explorer”

You only need to ask - "Seems like someone's forgotten how we got here in the first place"

It's Mrs. Hamilton - “Mark me, show me who I belong to”

The things we do for fashion - "Like what you see?" "More than you'll ever know."

Show me you care - “I’m asking you to, show me how much you want this, because I know you do”

My mark - “I’m not one to leave things unfinished”

NSFW alphabet

Senna!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Thank you for everything - "It doesn't matter how long it's been" "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Under an Ipê tree - “He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure."

Drabbles

Do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes all of my works.

copyright © 2024 pickingupmymercedes all right reserved.

[lewisvinga]

real reconoce real ! | carlos sainz x fem! football player! reader!

summary; everyone knew carlos is a huge madridista, nobody ever expected for him to date one of their female players

fc; athenea + girls from pinterest

note; idk how to explain it but ‘crack’ is like slang for cool😭 but carlos being a madridista is everything to me

masterlist !

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc and 1,039,937 others!

carlossainz55: fue un placer a ver el nuevo estadio santiago bernabéu, muchísimas gracias ! hala madrid!🤍 [it was a pleasure to see the new santiago bernabeu stadium, thank you very much!]

tagged; realmadrid

vinijr: fue en placer, smooth operator 😎🌶️[it was a pleasure]

carlossainz55: igualmente, nuestro 7! [likewise, our 7]

username: madridista carlos is everything

username: as a culer, i love carlos

charles_leclerc: oh i wish to see your reaction 😂

yourusername: never seen a man so excited before 🤣

yourusername: nice jersey!

carlossainz55: it’s gorgeous, right?

camavinga: 🔥

username: historia que ti hiciste historia por hacerrr

username: mr smooth operator 😎😎

liked by carlossainz55, judebellingham, and 596,927 others!

yourusername: otra victoria en casa! hala madrid! 🤍 [another victory at home]

tagged; realmadridfem

judebellingham: crackkkkk

liked by yourusername

carlossainz55: nuestra potm 😎 [our player of the match]

yourusername: ya tu sabes 😁 [you already know]

username: porque nadine resiste tus ganas de vencerrr

username: my goat

username: prettiest ever

username: y’all seeing carlos sainz in her likes 👀👀

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username: carlos sainz dating a female player from his childhood football club is everything🥹

[wh0reforcoriolanussnow]

Daemon x oc, where oc is alicent's 4th child and her favorite, but the oc also inherent Otto's scheming skills and so much better than him and overly can't stand rhaenrya and knows that rhaenrya likes daemon so she goes for daemon and daemon falls harder for the oc AKKKK and rhaenrya pov where she realizes that she is losing daemon to her much younger half-sister, please 🥺🫶

Half-Blood Rivalry || D. Targaryen x oc

GIF by @mad-witch-moon DIVIDERS by @straywords

a/n: tysm for this request!!! anons please continue to send me requests pls!!! I hope you guys are happy for Catarina to play oc as Rhaella :) also please imagine that this takes place in ep 2. when rhaella is born is around the time daemon is banished for taking rhae to the brothel. rhaenyra hasn’t married laenor or has children yet.

The youngest child of Alicent Hightower and Viserys Targaryen was sweet Rhaella. When Rhaenyra first held the girl when she was only a babe, she had a strange feeling about her half-sister. As years went by and both girls no doubt got older, Rhaenyra could not seem to shake off the uneasy feelings she felt towards her youngest sister.

“Happy Name Day, sweet child” Alicent goes on her tippy toes to kiss her youngest and—anyone with eyes could see— favourite child. “Thank you, mother,” Rhaella kissed her cheek. It was then her father’s turn. Rhaella and Viserys had always had a complicated relationship, the two never seemed to see eye to eye, quite similar with her other siblings.

Rhaella and her siblings knew that their father didn’t favour them as much as he does with Rhaenyra. Nonetheless, Viserys was still her father and he cared for him.

“Happy name day, sister” Rhaenyra bursts through the doors of the throne room with a drunken smile. Everyone in the room stared at the platinum white haired Princess in shock. Her appearance was dishevelled and she reeked of alcohol. It was only morning.

“Are you quite alright Rhaenyra?” Alicent raises an eyebrow as she looks the Targaryen up and down. Rhaella lets out a scoff. Typical Rhaenyra. “Quite so, I wouldn’t dare miss seeing my dear sister on this special day” She raises a cup towards the younger who rolls her tongue against her cheek in annoyance.

Rhaella looks to Viserys, a wide grin on his face making her scoff. Rhaenyra somehow always seems to pull Rhaella’s buttons without even realising. In her opinion, she was a stuck up Princess that was never grateful of what was given to her.

Rhaella could not stand her older half-sister, maybe it was because of the fact that their father always placed Rhaenyra on a pedestal and could never do anything wrong in his eyes. Placing a fake smile on her pretty face, Rhaella speaks up. “Thank you Rhaenyra, your presence here means so much to me” She pops a grape in her mouth.

Otto lowly chuckles yet shakes his head lightly at his granddaughter’s tone. There was no denying that out of his four grandchildren, Rhaella too was his favourite. The young Targaryen was very much like him in many ways, even better in some aspects you could say.

There was silence at the table for a bit as they all ate, when all of a sudden, the doors once again opened. This time, Ser Harrold walked in. “Your Grace, he’s back” Was all the kingsguard said. Rhaella and her siblings stop chewing their food and look to their father.

Viserys wore a shocked face before standing up quickly and walking away. Rhaella looks to her mother in confusion as she gives her a sad look and rubs her arm. “Father, where are you going?” The young Targaryen turns in her seat as she watches him walk away. What even stung the young girl was the fact that he didn’t respond.

“Daemon’s back” Rhaenyra says to herself with wide eyes. “Don’t be silly, uncle Daemon has not returned to court in how many years?” Aegon questions as Rhaella replies, “Since I was a babe” She shrugs. “But who else would Ser Harrold have referred to? Did you see father’s face,” She humorously scoffs, “That was Daemon alright” Rhaenyra shrugs.

“Enough talk about your uncle. It is Rhaella’s name day and I want you all behaved for her birthday celebrations today” Alicent sternly speaks before continuing to eat. The Targaryen siblings all give each other one final look before going back to their meal.

-

It was the night of Rhaella's name day where a huge feast was held. Alicent demanded the celebration to be extravagant for her favourite child. You could have mistaken the event as the King's name day.

Rhaella sat beside her mother and her siblings beside her, Rhaenyra on Viserys' side. When her father stood up to announce a speech, he was interrupted by a figure walking into the throne room.

It was no one other than Daemon. Young Rhaella had not seen him all day, him showing up there was her first time seeing him really as she could not recall him when she was a born.

Of course, the Targaryen often heard stories about her uncle. He held a bad reputation and yet everytime anyone would speak of him, Rhaella always found herself wanting to hear more about her uncle.

He sauntered in with a smirk on his face. "Brother, I thought you weren't going to come" Viserys puts a smile on his face as Daemon stands in front of the table, his hands clasped together. Rhaella could have sworn she saw a glint of mischievous in his eyes.

She looks up towards her father, than to her half-sister. Rhaenyra had a look on her face that Rhaella couldn't quite fathom out. "And miss my dear nieces' birthday celebration? How could I do that to Rhaenrya" Alicent gasps in disbelief and Aemond chuckles under his breath, a kick under the table from Otto shut him up.

"I think your mistaken dear uncle, it is not Rhaenyra you should be wishing a happy birthday, but me," Rhaella irked, crossing her arms. Daemon's eyes move to her. She watched him study her before a grin makes it to his lips. "Apologies...." He trails off, "Rhaella." "My brother failed to mention which niece of mine was celebrating. After all, I have little memory of his children before I left."

Rhaella nods her head politely, he was offered a seat at the end of the table near Rhaenyra. She couldn't help but notice her half-sisters' wanting eyes to Daemon. The young Targaryen knew of what had happened when she was born. In terms of Daemon and Rhaenyra.

But she did not expect her to still long for her uncle, after all, Daemon was gone for nearly 20 years. The whole time as they all feasted, Rhaella felt eyes burning into her and everytime she looked, Daemon shamelessly stares with a smirk on his face.

"I think I would like to dance," Rhaella says before standing up and making her way to her sworn knight, Ser Harwin. "A dance Ser Harwin?" The princess looks up at him with a smile. "It is my pleasure, princess" He smiles back as they start to dance, not knowing a certain Targaryen's eyes were fixated on the two the entire time.

"Your daughter is quite pleasing to look at, Alicent" Daemon chuckles to himself, his eyes still not leaving Rhaella. Alicent nearly choked on her drink as she glares at him. "My sister is nearly half my age uncle!" Rhaenyra laughs.

"Mhm, a shame indeed" He mutters as he taps his fingers on the table. Rhaenyra stares at her uncle in disbelief. The princess opens her mouth but shuts it again when Daemon stands up and makes his way through the crowd to where Rhaella and Ser Harwin were dancing.

"Might I have this dance, princess?" Daemon whispers against her ears as she breathed heavily from dancing. Rhaella gives a small nod to Harwin as he backs off and now dances with Daemon. "You know, you've grown quite alot," He starts off. "Thank you for pointing the obvious uncle," She rolls her eyes playfully, "Into such a, beautiful woman" Daemon finishes.

Rhaella smiles, "Thank you, I assume-" She was cut off by Rhaenyra who taps her shoulder, "Can I steal our dear uncle, sister?" She questions as she doesn't even bother looking at Rhaella, only Dameon.

The young Targaryen looks between the two before nodding her head. She walks away not before locking eyes with her uncle before his gaze floats back to Rhaenyra. "Did you just get told to bugger off, sister?" Aegon laughs as Rhaella approaches the table and smacks his head. "Ow!" He groans, rubbing his head. Alicent shoots a look to the eldest.

"I believe our dear Rhaenyra is still infatuated with Daemon" Rhaella tilts her head. "Not surprised, the way she was eyeing him the whole time, I thought she'd eat uncle on the spot" Halaena says concerned as Rhaella and her brothers laughed loudly. Deep down, Rhaella couldn't push aside a strange feeling as she watched her sister and her uncle dancing and laughing together.

-

“Do you jest, sister?” Rhaella’s mouth hangs open at Rhaenyra’s idea that she had created in her head. “What? Daemon and I are made for each other. We have blood of the dragons coursing through us. Not to forget, he wanted me before he was banished by Father” She paces back and forth in her room.

The young Targaryen only blinked a few times before laughing. Rhaenyra glares at her younger sister. “S-sorry,” Rhaella wipes the tears that escaped from laughter, “Do you still think uncle longs for you? Forgive me for saying this Rhaenyra, but you are no longer a maiden.” Rhaella tilts her head.

“Daemon might have lusted over you at one point but yet again, he did take you to that brothel and just left you there. And now he’s back after what? twenty years and you still think he has his eyes on you?” Rhaella’s jabs stung the elder. Her words were like knives to her heart.

“And what do you suppose? That he’s got eyes for you now?” Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow at the younger. A small smirk forms on Rhaella’s lips, “Time will tell” “Don’t tell me you like Daemon, Rhaella. You just practically met him!” Rhaenyra’s voice loudens. To piss her even more, Rhaella simply shrugged with a playful smile.

“Daemon would make a dutiful Husband wouldn’t he? All that experience and….. well you know. Plus, mother has been pestering me about marriage. What better way to honour her wishes of me staying close to home then marrying our deal uncle?” Rhaenyra scoffs at her half-sister. “Daemon will never want you, you wouldn’t even dare to approach him with those silly intentions-“

Rhaella stands up and storms to her older, and still slightly taller, sister. “Watch me dear sister. Watch me marry Daemon in our old valyrian ways and bear his children. Watch me live a life you only ever got to dream of.” She calmy says yet still, venom laced her words.

Rhaenyra stood still in shock at her sister’s words before opening her mouth, “You are a horrid person.” She said through gritted teeth. Rhaella only wickedly smiles before turning around and walking off. As soon as the door slammed shut, Rhaenyra grabbed the closest object which was a vase and aimed it at the door, shards flying everywhere.

Rhaella stood outside the door with a proud smirk on her face. It was finally time to put her older sister into her own place. She walked through the hallways of her home before she bumped into something hard. “Watch where-“ Rhaella shuts her mouth as she’s met with his figure. “you’re going..” She trails as he smiles at her.

“Rhaenyra is still in her bedchambers” She mumbles massaging her head. Before she could move to the side to leave, he takes ahold of her forearm. “It is not your sister I wish to see but you, princess”

“What could you possibly want to see me for, uncle?” She spoke, her arms folded and her head slightly tilted. “Am I not allowed to spend some time with my niece? After all, I know nothing of you” He says, his eyes wandering nowhere near her face.

Rhaella smirked. She hummed before replying. “I’ve always wanted to her your stories come from you, and more possibly-“ She was cut off by him, “You’ve heard about me and my stories?” He questions.

Rhaella playfully rolls her eyes, “Don’t flatter yourself uncle, your stories are the only entertaining thing to listen to around here” She chuckles. Daemon laughs, “Might you like to accompany Caraxes and I for a ride?” He suggests with smug smile.

~

1 month later…

“Where’s Daemon and Rhaella?” Rhaenyra looks around the table noticing their absent once again at the breakfast table. “Didn’t you hear, sister? Daemon’s taking Rhaella to Dragonstone today for a few months” Halaena says with a sweet smile as Rhaenyra’s jaw hangs open.

“D-Daemon’s taking Rhaella away? To Dragonstone?” She stutters as she processes what was happening. Dragonstone was supposed to be for her and Daemons. Not Rhaellas’.

“Why hasn’t anyone thought to tell me this?” She bangs her hand on the table in frustration. “I didn’t think it would concern you Princess, The Prince and Princess simply want to get to know each other more” Alicent speaks up.

“Get to know each other more? I don’t see why they can’t do that here, why must they be at Dragonstone. Father! Did you approve of this?” She looks to Viserys in disbelief. “My child, these are Daemon’s wishes. And besides, it is finally time that Rhaella chooses a Husband”

“A husband.” The princess scoffs as everyone on the table watch her, anticipating what was going to happen next. “I wanted Daemon to be my husband at her age and what did you do?! You banished him! Why does my whore of a sister get to do what ever she pleases!” Rhaenyra stands up in her seat as does Alicent. They could have sworn they saw steam leave her ears.

“How dare you call your sister that!” Viserys too stands up and hits his hand on the table loudly. “Rhaella is of age and you were not. You were the heir at the time and choosing Daemon as King consort? The realm would have been up in flames by now! My daughter. Your sister! Needs a husband sooner than later. Daemon is content with his position. Those twenty years where ever he was did him some good. Rhaella needs someone like him to confide to”

Viserys sits back down with a sigh, Rhaenyra only stood there in disbelief, shock and hatred for her half sister. Without uttering another word, she excused herself from the table and left. “She’s lost her mind” Alicent shakes her head.

Rhaenyra stormed out of the castle and into the dragon pit. She immediately paused as she witnessed Rhaella and Daemon in each other’s arms as they pat Caraxes. Rhaenyra was never able to do that the blood wyrm, he just never seemed to accept her. But Rhaella on the other hand.

Before she was could storm closer to the two a voice stops her. “Depriving your own sister of happiness?” Otto tempts her, “Just look at how happy they look with each other. I’ve never seen Daemon smile so much, have you?”

“He smiled plenty with me before” She mutters. “Ah there it is, before.” Rhaenyra glares at Otto. “Before he liked you, now he wishes to runaway with my granddaughter and marry her.” “H-he’s not marrying her” She chuckles to herself.

“Oh but he is my dear, he even asked for the King and Queen’s blessing. Your sister, much more youthful, smarter-“ “What are you trying to do?” The princess says desperately, “Stay away from them. Your sister is perfect for him and deserves happiness. Don’t let that childish dream of yours get into the road of them being happy. He’s obviously moved on and so should you Princess” Otto sternly speaks as the two of them look to the couple.

“I lost him once. Now I just lost him again,” The Princess shed a tear as she watched her half-sister get everything she ever hoped and dreamed of.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

*pulls the 45 cents I have to my name out of my pocket and drops them on your table*

I can't believe my name will be forever attached to this but one (1) Kenjaku solo session with Heianera!YN portrait, please

❝ life and death will always lead to love and regret (but you have the answers, and I have the key) ❞

Kenjaku x Heain Era!ftm!reader [one-sided] | Heian Era!ftm!reader x Sukuna Ryomen | r! is a curse-user & sukuna ryomen's concubine, NSFW | sub. bottom. reader (AFAB) | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 4.1K

warnings: creepy/stalker behaviour, Kenjaku is a 'passive'-yandere (in the sense that Sukuna would and will kill him if he tried anything), manipulative behaviour, gore (detailed), Kenjaku jerking off in front of a portrait of r!, very unrequited

authors note: don't be ashamed, Gabriel. I got way too excited writing this and I think that speaks volumes on how I need to get checked, LMAO. On another note - yes, my YN's will always have a harem of men in the JJK-verse because that's what YN (and you, my dear reader) deserve!

I wrote this partially on my phone so bear with me guys...

*song on repeat: Bernadette by IAMX & Rule #34 by Fish in a Birdcage. * YN is described as having long hair because of the heian beauty standard (hair colour and texture not mentioned).

People often compared the years they lived as sand. The hourglass holding it is comparable to the human body. He often thought that metaphor was weak. People — humans — were not hourglasses and their years were not sand. No, no. That’s far too neat for humans.

Humans are messy. They are loud, and chaotic, they defy nature's rules and destroy her for the sake of progress. They had no balance, their compass broke when the synapses in their brains sparked conscious thought.

In that chaos, humans made curses. Or, well, you could argue it who came first but without humans and their silly consciousness — cursed spirits wouldn’t thrive.

People are flesh left under the sun. With their blood drying out, flies and maggots eagerly feast on what they can while the meat greys and rots. That’s a much more appropriate metaphor for a human life. If anything, the hourglass comparison should be used for himself. Constantly turning it over to keep going; uncaring of what kept the sands in confinement so long as it could continue its path.

Down, almost empty, flip, repeat.

Kenjaku had perfected his cursed techniques. He had earned this, he had earned his right to let his curiosities run rampant. He had earned the right to be in the presence of Sukuna Ryomen and you.

“Yuuji, you still owe me for eating my yoghurt from the fridge. It was expensive and it took so long for me to find it!” Nobara huffed. “You might as well just buy some for yourself. I’m labelling my food now.”

Megumi glanced over his shoulder at the lack of reply from the pink-haired boy. Nobara stopping next to him with her brows furrowed, sighing as she looks around for him.

“...I was just talking to myself? Seriously?” she grumbled. Megumi adjusts his grip on the bags. The grocery trips were a good team-building exercise according to Yuuji, a way to get to know each other better. Megumi and Nobara agreed after a particularly harsh mission that aimed directly at their novice team fighting experience.

So far, the results that were yielded from it were found that Nobara had an aversion to pineapples, Megumi had expensive tastes, and Yuuji was very good at budgeting money.

“No, he was right beside you a few minutes ago,” Megumi reached for his phone. Nobara placed her hands on her hips, tilting her head as she continued to scan the crowd.

A gaggle of businessmen came out from the underground train station and between the crowd of slicked-back hair, desperate combovers, and sweaty bald heads, she spotted him.

Tugging on Megumi’s sleeve, she pointed to him. Yuuji was standing and staring up at some sort of vertical banner. As they both approached, they shared a glance.

“Oi, Itadori,” Nobara placed a hand on his shoulder. Smacked it really. He didn’t budge. There was a dullness to his eyes that unnerved her enough to remove her hand. Megumi tightened his grip on his phone as he called out to him again. She took a look at the banner and her brows furrowed.

It was promoting an opening of someone’s private gallery. Some rich kid’s great-great-grandfather’s collection. The painting they used was of a true beauty. A man with long hair, dressed in the finest robes with a serene barely-there smile. It looked to be more European in nature, the art reminding her of the portraits of giant frilly dresses and puffy shoulder sleeves despite the obviously Japanese clothing, accessory, and manner in which the subject was regaled in the painting.

The banner must have costed a pretty penny considering how much detail they could see. Megumi could practically feel the raised textures the artist had used to mimic the pattern of the traditional robe the man wore. The flow of his hair, the texture and pattern it had; and his lashes were surely not that long in reality.

Megumi tore his gaze to Yuuji.

It was like he was in a trance. His mouth was slightly ajar, his brows furrowed and his hands shaking as his knuckles turned white.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji had long forgotten this. This ache in his chest that he sometimes woke up with. When he reaches for the empty space next to him and finds no one. Those moments in the basement when he watches a historical movie and his chest tightens as the nobles courted one another.

“Do you know the painter or something?” Nobara asks.

No, he wants to say. Not the painter. If he knew who it was that did this portrait, he’d tear their heads off their body. But the man? He knew him.

That hellish grin, that perfect face and most importantly those nightmarish eyes.

You’ve seen dolls, right? Those porcelain ones specifically. The craftsmen who make them, the expensive ones with real human hair. To be left on shelves instead of being played with. They would draw these white dots on the eyes, varnish them even, so their eyes would reflect back. A mimicry of humans, that’s what dolls are. But even then, their eyes still twinkled. Not this man. No. It was devoid of light. Pools of (eye colour) and nothing more. These eyes would swallow up any trace of light and diminish the stars from the sky with just a glance.

Yuuji knew him. His soul knew him. His hand clutches over his heart and his friends watch this with trepidation.

It’s been 2,000 years. Sukuna was no longer human and therefore his memory was not as fickle. He still remembers those moments before dawn; the sight of your bare torso breathing softly as you rested next to him. The sun filtering through the windows and making you appear even more ethereal and deadly. How your brows would pinch seconds before you woke. Those soulless eyes that shot through his very soul.

Sukuna could recognize you even if he was blind. He’d be able to hear you just by feeling your chest rumble. If he had to eat one thing for the rest of his life, your body and flesh would sustain him.

In his Malovent Shrine, whilst he sat on his throne, he’d summon his flames in his palm. There he’d watch as your figure danced across his hand. You’d twirl between his digits, a smile across your face as he watches the imitation of you.

It used to be enough. Lately, the action brings him more contempt then fondness. The flames never quite catch your shape anymore. Constantly shifting. That coyness is gone, mini-you petulantly staying hidden behind his fingers. So he snuffs you out in his fists.

He hates you for making him miss you. A King should not be missing anyone or anything. Yet, as his vessel stands here, Sukuna teeters on the edge of breaking the Unbreakable Vow he’d made with the brat just to gaze upon you.

The painter got your resemblance and it was agony for him.

How could he continue to be without you when he’s seen you again? Days ago, he wanted to kill you for making him delirious and now he wants you back in his arms.

“Itadori.” Megumi’s tone is firmer. Nobara smacks his shoulder again and Yuuji jolts forward, nearly falling until his rigid legs quickly come back to life.

“Huh?”

“Are you alright?” Megumi asks, his thumb hovering over the DIAL button of Gojo Satoru’s number. Yuuji glances at his wrinkled shirt and releases it, confusion painted across his face at the fading pain across his chest.

“I...yeah, yeah. I'm okay. I have no idea what that was....”

Rich bodies made life significantly easier.

What was that saying humans used?

Money can’t buy happiness?

Kenjaku chuckles at the thought. Foolish and vain — typical of humans. Clinging onto whatever they can to convince their egos they’re better than most when they’ll all meet the same fate. Kenjaku forgets the exact point where he stopped seeing himself as one of them, but he’s sure anyone would if you’ve lived as long as him. Apathy. Most call it a disease of selfishness. Kenjaku simply thinks they’re lying to themselves.

“Mr Geto?” the gallery was a lucrative endeavour. A piece in his grand scheme that required little effort but great rewards. More personal gain on his end.

“Mr Hajimoto mentioned you specifically in his will. The private room is all yours. Thank you so much for your donation to this fine institution of arts.” Kenjaku offers the man a polite smile and nod. The awkward silence prompts them to open the large doors and Kenjaku is greeted by you.

(Y/N) (L/N). In all your glory. In his favourite colours and his favourite kanza. The bespoke lighting on your portrait makes his hands fall limply to his side. You were a brushstroke away from taking a breath. The colours used to recreate that undertone your skin had, the delicate curves of your lashes and the plumpness of your lip.

The two guards in the corner of the room are a nuisance. But with a simple twirl of his right hand, the Slit-Mouthed Woman makes quick work of them. This curse technique was truly convenient, the mess she made cleaned up by a different curse who laps at the blood with vigor. The noises are all muffled as he admires those vicious eyes.

Just saying your name makes warmth travel down between his legs.

“I’ve almost forgotten how you look like.”

Silence ticks by for a minute.

Then Kenjaku bursts into laughter. Clutching his stomach and covering his mouth as he does. He can still smell your blood. Even if Suguru’s body had never had the pleasure of touching you — Kenjaku remembers it.

The way it flowed out of you like silk ribbons. Warm and wet and virile.

“You are an unusual sorcerer,” those were the first words you said to him. He knows you meant that in a derisive fashion — the curl of your nose was a clear indicator. But that was the day a feverish need was planted inside of his very soul.

You. You. You.

The shape of your face.

The cadence of your voice.

The way the wind carried your scent to his nose.

The sound of your cat-like foot-steps.

The effortless way you carried yourself despite the heavy robes that a revered concubine of your rank would wear, along with the golden hair accessories that would probably break a lesser man's neck.

It didn't stop there either.

Your brain, the wickedness that ran through your very veins and that fire that burns within you. Kenjaku wanted to be inside of you in every he could fathom. To sit within that perfectly shaped skull, to thread his fingers between the locks of your hair and take a scalpel to that skin he so craves to taste. Or perhaps inside in the traditional sense, between your legs, embraced by your warm insides and your deadly arms.

Kenjaku ponders on the time he has. He decides that he should indulge in you. He undoes the robes this body wore and sighs as it reveals the torso. Bodies were all the same but he does appreciate the care Geto Suguru took into his temple — there was no need for shame when he's already desecrated this corpse so viscerally already. His hands travel down his torso and that pronounce v-line and past the patch of wiry pubic hair.

You make him feel young again. Reckless and stubborn. Your eyes watch him as he leisurely spits into his palm and strokes it over the tip.

Evil is such a lame word. So primitive in its nature, another one of human's attempts at letting go of responsibility. If something or someone were evil, they were inherently irredeemable. Humans used to call snakes evil simply for doing what a snake would do when hungry, instead of realising they shouldn't have left the door to their huts opened and their sleeping brat asleep.

Was something evil when it simply did what it was meant to do?

They were simply following natures course.

This act Kenjaku is doing now, is not perverted or evil, he is simply being. Simply living, existing, relishing.

If anything, you were the undoing. The evil. You've made, and continue to make, him lose crave and hunger. You were so cruel, so ethereal — so evil.

Kenjaku groaned your name, walking backwards and dropping onto the low seat the gallery provided. His legs spread and he hung his head down but his eyes remained affixed to your painting.

"He sounds beautiful, Mr Hajimoto," the blonde painter had told him once or twice or thrice. Young but talented, the way he used his brushes on canvas was so impressive and Kenjaku missed you so much (Y/N). He simply had to spread the wickedness of your beauty, immortalize it forever within canvases and lesser non-sorcerers minds.

"Did you know him?" his accent was clunky, the Japanese language tumbling on its delicate legs following the rhythm of the painters voice. Still, he — Mr Hajimoto, Kenjaku — gave him a gentle grin.

"Very well. He was my lover."

The small notebook the painter had written your features down in, it was displayed in this very room as well. In a glass casing, handled with gloves to ensure pesky skin oils wouldn't deteriorate his inked strokes.

Speaking of strokes, Kenjaku's was beginning to pick up it's pace. His smile now looser, like an animal that caught the scent of blood, his tongue curled over his teeth as he imagined the disgust on your face. You'd probably cover your nose with the sleeve of your robe and the thought makes his cock jump; you were wearing his favourite colours and it made him moan.

The notebook was filled with sketches of you. Kenjaku recalls correcting the human, correcting him when he disrupted the harmony of your anatomy. You were the humans muse for years, (Y/N). Even as he neared his death bed, the blonde artist kept drawing you. Sketches lose, your shape less tangible, but hauntingly beautiful. Like your dark flames flowing in the wind. Even as his memories of his life escapes him, the artist remembered you. What a blessing. Kenjaku had visited him before he died and whispered your name into the old man's ear.

Sorcerer Society keeps your name hidden. It's their way of control. Making Sukuna Ryomen more monstrous by telling others he ruled coldly and cruelly alone; death was not as harsh as being erased. They say Sukuna needed 20 of his fingers and his mummified heart to be revived. That's what those poems talked about after all.

A misunderstanding.

The heart was Sukuna's, yes.

But it wouldn't revive him.

"You were so angry," he chuckled out, "so defiant even when I was inside of you."

The sky was blood red, the black smoke making the colour more saturated as it seemed intent on blotting out the sun. Uraume had felt a sudden chill, you did too, and they swiftly rose as the scent of deceit was so thick in the air.

“Uraume,” your voice remained nonchalant. But there was a tenseness in your throat that even they could decipher through the layers of regality. They turned, mouth pressed into a thin line as they went on their knees.

You continued to stare, impassively looking down at the patterned swirl of their snow-white hair. The red and black sky turning the colour of your eyes a pleasantly mournful shade; the golden kanza in your hair that your Lord Sukuna himself had commissioned for you glimmered righteously. The teeth of a beast, the curling of centipede legs, and the melded wings of a raven. It was beautiful just as much as it was unusual.

“You leave your Lord’s prized possession to fend for himself?”

Uraume lips reveal a modest amount of teeth. Their face like a porcelain doll as they raise their head. It makes your heart flutter and squeeze.

“You are stronger than these worms, they wouldn’t dare attack you.”

This is true. A fact. You were strong. 100 sorcerers or 1, 000 sorcerers — it made no difference to you. They’d turn into dust and wither right before you. But it shocks Uraume when you place your palm against their jaw, thumb stroking over their cheekbone as you gaze down at them.

“How horrid it is, making me defend myself.”

They see your eyes soften. It was no wonder you were Lord Sukuna’s concubine. Just being touched by you, looked down upon by you; it makes their spine melt.

“I should have your head for your insolence.”

Uraume apologizes, lips stilling when your thumb presses down on them.

“Return to me. Whole. My Lord Husband and I will not be pleased if you do not. We don’t want weaklings to stand behind us.”

Uraume bows, their lips kissing your knuckles as they do before they raise and disappear from your sight. The screams of terror that are heard outside at the sight of them make you slip your eyes close.

Kenjaku appeared before you what felt like hours later. He looks at the scene with a raise of his brow. Your feet were soaked in blood as bodies were strewn across the wide room. The floor was shimmering, looking as though it was breathing as it creaked from his weight. The clothes the bodies wore painted a clear enough picture — they were your servants. Loyalties were swayed as the fight prolonged. These little ants thought they could save themselves from punishment if they showed these righteous sorcerers your head.

He couldn’t smell smoke and there were no signs of charring. The bodies were mangled beyond belief, guts spilling out, eyes gouged, arms bent unnaturally.

Yet, in the gore and horror, you stood across from him with only your feet stained by traitorous blood.

You were a vision. Delicately wiping away blood from the tiger claw kanza with the sleeve of a dead servant. Then, he watches as you carefully put it back in place atop your hair.

“Kenjaku.”

He bows his head, bending at his waist, then lifts himself up again.

“The Kamo clan, your clan, joined this rebellion. I feel that should be a good enough reason to kill you.” The fire in your eyes makes his heart race. He moves forward, casually stepping over a torn torso.

“That would be unwise,” he gives you a grin. This body of his is new. The stitches are still fresh and red. Most likely a desperate attempt of his to hide away while they destroyed his old body. The corpse is younger, and more plain-looking. Despite it’s Curse Technique being a mystery, you’ll take your chances at strangling him.

“I’ve come at the behest of your Lord Husband. To ensure your longevity.”

Your brows pinch. Kenjaku delights at the creases it creates, tucking away this sight into his memories for lonely nights. Then, you scowl.

“You lie.”

His giddiness is palpable. The wide grin on the corpse’s face is clearly not his own; cheeks lifted too high and smile too large and unnatural. Kenjaku must’ve been a truly ugly man with a truly ugly grin. The body struggles to adjust to this display of amusement.

“I’m not.”

He takes a step forward and you lift your hand. The standstill would’ve lasted longer if it weren’t for the yells and thunderous footsteps clambering up to your room.

“You lie!”

Dark flames roared out from the windows. The heat so smoldering it causes a burst of hot air to knock back the men on the stairs, burning their skin and face. The blood on the floor boils, the iron scent now more acidic as the once fleshy bodies now crumble into dust.

You feel his breathe against the nape of your neck. As you turn, he wrings his arms around you like a snake. One across your stomach, the other around your shoulder. That horrible smile is pressed against your skin.

“Kenjaku,” you growl through gritted teeth.

“That’s right. Say my name.”

Fighting feels a lot like sex.

Kenjaku can feel your passion behind every strike, the bruises you leave behind on his skin are akin to hickeys. When you yell out and scream, cheeks so hot he can feel the rush of blood to your face just from looking — the rapid pulse you have and the way your face is contorted.

Kenjaku pins you down. Your legs are thrown over his own while you gnash your teeth at him and spit insults his way. Your hair was so beautiful, thrown back around your head like a lion’s mane. He slides your wrists above your head and holds them with one hand while the other undoes the meticulous array of folds your kimono had.

Sweat drips down his nose. It’s all your fault. Using your Curse Technique in this room, charring the wood and setting it all aflame. Still, he could work in this conditions.

“Ah,” he moans at the sight of your bare skin. Watching the rise and fall of your chest, licking his lips as he places a hand over your heart.

When you kick at his stomach, he acts like he cannot feel it. When you kick again, this time hard enough for a loud crack to be heard, he looks at you.

“If you kill me, you will break the Binding Vow you and Ryomen had made with me.”

He feels your feet dig into his rib, the spiderwebs of cracks spreading further. He allows this with a pleased hum. Your ragged breathing all at once calms and with a blink, your eyes lose that unbridled fury.

“You dare say my Lord’s name so casually?”

Kenjaku laughs. As he leans down, he presses his forehead to yours. Your nose curls in disgust but you keep your lips pursed. The feeling of his sweat sliding down the sides of your forehead and dipping to travel the side of your nose; threatening to get into your eyes as it slips just beneath it.

“Forgive me, venerable concubine.” Kenjaku does not mean this. When he presses his fingers together and imbues his hand with Curse Energy. He enjoys it.

Slicing through your skin at a pace that made the cut more ghastly then it would be if it was done quickly. You remained stone-faced while Kenjaku chewed on his lower lip, every twitch or squint just fueling his hunger.

He is past your skin and now he sees the yellow, when he twists his wrist you grunt as he slices through the threads of muscles. He spreads his fingers and your teeth part as you let out a strained yell.

"You can be louder if you want," his lips brush against your cheek every time he speaks.

"When I return, I'll take pleasure in ripping your head off your body."

"Threatening me?"

He reaches bone. His finger scratching against it before he peels away and settles between your legs. Your hands aren't pinned but you do nothing but curl your fingers into fists as he shoves another hand into your chest. The squelching and pulsing of your flesh, the bursts of blood from your throbbing veins and pumping heart. The wetness and warmth of your insides. He can feel your body clenching around him, and he convinces himself its because you truly enjoy this depravity just as he does.

The size of his hands in your chest is unbearably uncomfortable. Invading you, filling you when you want nothing more than to burn him, as he moves his digits and wrists within you.

He grasps onto your bones and breaks it under the pressure of his wrist. Your blood is spraying him, staining his clothes.

"Your blood looks like ribbons," he whispers to you, "even your insides are like works of art."

You want this to be over with already.

Your arms move down, eyes still set in a glare. You slip your fingers under the soaked clothing and spread it apart further to reveal more of your skin. Shimmying your shoulders so your torso is now bare of any clothing.

The tent between his legs pressed into your crotch. It's hard to ignore, but you push through and grasp onto his elbow and force him to go in deeper.

"Promising you."

Kenjaku's elbow straightens sharply and he moans as he feels your heart beating in his palm. He pulls it out of your body, panting as your eyes slip close and your heart slows. Beating slowly...slowly...slowly...

Kenjaku moans at the memory of your heart in his hands. Your warm blood coating his skin, drying under his nails and crackling in the creases of his joints.

"I wanted to keep you on me forever," he grunts out as his pace gets faster. "The smell of you, of your flesh."

"I didn't need your body, but it was too beautiful not to be admired."

Kenjaku throws his head back, placing his palm across his nose and lips as he sifts through his memories so he can conjure it all over again.

The painting watches on impassively. The croons and purrs of Geto Suguru's cursed spirits echo faintly in Kenjaku's ears while his hips thrusts into his own fist. It's desperate. He usually isn't like this. Even when he was creating the Death Womb Paintings — even when his plans are so close to coming into fruition.

You make him like this. Make him lose control, every thought poisoned with you even when you're nothing more than a mummified heart hidden so desperately away by Sorcerer Society.

"I've gotten a lead," Uraume had informed him just a few days ago. "They've hidden him in the ocean in an underwater research facility."

"Underwater, hah, they think it'll keep your flames contained. Keep your loyal servant away as if the depths of the ocean is enough to scare them, us — Oh, (Y/N)."

His fist stops and Kenjaku stands, removing his clothing fully as he places a hand against the wall of the gallery. The textured wall, the grooves, give way to his nails as he digs them in. He stares into your eyes, imagining the crease of your furrowed brow and Kenjaku groans out your name as he cums all over the wall.

"...Oh, I can't wait to see you again, venerable concubine."

[hp-hcs]

yanxidarlings here~ literally screamed when i saw you followed me because your writings were the direct inspiration for my latest post 💖 but im curious to see your take on yandere! poly! mattheo and theodore with m! reader or just more poly headcanons because i am never. going. to. get. enough. of. them

OH MY FUCKING GOD UR KIDDING I WAS THE ANON WHO REQUESTED UR LATEST POST

IM FEELING STARSTRUCK RN 🙇‍♂️👑

requests open, please dear god

Yk, reader is (lovingly) so fucking oblivious

Like, his friends will be like “hey you’re getting pretty close with like, the two most obsessive and violent guys at this school aha”

And reader will be like “lol they’re so silly goofy aren’t they 😌”

Inspired purely by your “you know people think we're gay and dating, right?” “aren't we?” I present:

“you know people think we’re gay and dating, right?” “aren’t we?” — yandere! mattheo riddle x oblivious! male! reader x yandere! theodore nott

completely unedited cause i gotta sprint to my lecture broski

TWs: possessive/obsessive behavior, brief mentions of violence, one instance of slut-shaming (?)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Honestly, you thought nothing of it when you were informed that due to “space issues” you were being moved to room with The Theos™. You just shrugged and followed the very anxious house-elf who had informed you of the switch to your new room.

Your trunk and belongings were there already, waiting to be set up and organized. Mattheo and Theo were hovering in the doorway looking a bit too pleased with the situation for comfort.

You just quietly said “hi” and moved past them, dumping your school bag on your new bed and flopping down next to it.

Theo and Mattheo practically trip over themselves rushing to “befriend” you. (Their words, not mine)

You all share a dorm, so it wasn’t long before they realized the other was obsessed with you.

Then, it’s all out war.

I’m talking mysterious falls down the moving stairs, getting locked out of the dorm all night, randomly being chased by bludgers—even when they aren’t playing.

Random fistfights between them whenever they see each other in the halls.

That all goes out the window, though, when reader is asked out.

Reader comes back to his dorm after a long day and finds The Theos sitting side-by-side on the edge of the his bed.

“When were you going to tell us that you became the class whore?” Mattheo drawled, his lips thinning in disapproval and disgust.

“W-what?” You ask, completely taken aback.

“We heard that little Y/N L/N’s got himself a date to the Yule Ball,” Theodore adds. “Who is it? That Parkinson girl? The Diggory boy?”

“Wh- no. I said no anyways.”

The boys scrutinize you, exuding an air of judgement.

Finally, Theodore pipes up. “Good boy.”

😳

“Aww, what’s this? Look, Riddle. Y/N’s blushing,” Theodore teases.

They make a quick mental note of that 📝

Anyways, they eventually find out who asked you out. They call a ceasefire on their own personal war, and team up to beat the shit out of the poor guy/girl.

After that, babycakes, if they didn’t already know before, everyone at Hogwarts now knows that you are TAKEN. (Even though you don’t.)

They tolerate each other, but just barely. They can really only stand each other when you three all curl up in one of your beds or on the common room couch.

Then, they’re the clingiest mfs you’ve ever met.

They have absolutely no sense of a personal space bubble. One of them is always touching you in some way, whether it be holding your hand, resting a hand on your hip or shoulder, putting their hand on your lower back…

Theodore charmed your chair in History of Magic to be impossible to move, so you can’t scoot away from him.

If you’re relaxing on the couch in the common room, Mattheo will move to sit right next to you (like r i g h t next to you) and put your legs in his lap. He tried once before to get you to just sit in his lap, but you told him no (like an idiot) and avoided him for the rest of the day. That is, until you woke up to him in your bed next to you.

Homeboy was not happy about that.

He is manipulative as fuck and will gaslight you to no end. He uses his shitty childhood and bad father to get you to pity him.

(It works.)

It’s obviously disconcerting for you when your boyos go from ‘actively out for each other’s blood’ to ‘eh, you’re fine, i guess’

You guys were watching a movie in your dorm one night, all piled onto your bed, and they accidentally fell asleep there. They woke to you already gone for breakfast and them with their arms around each other.

“If you ever bring this up again, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, believe me, they’d never find your body.”

They become way more open about their attraction to you, everything from kissing your cheek, to making you wear their clothes (esp their jerseys with their last name on them), to asking you your ring size.

I completely agree with your headcanon of Mattheo neck kisses 😩🤌

Eventually though, because you are an oblivious gay disaster, you’re just chilling on the couch and you’re like “Hey guys, you know everyone thinks we’re gay right? And like, all dating each other?”

“What, like we aren’t?”

y/n: 😳🤨☺️🏳️‍🌈👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

[jaes1lvr]

🎉　˚　　♡　　 ᶻz HAPPY 1,000 JAE BAES ( >_• ) !!!

— 1K FOLLOWERS??!!! i cant believe its already been a couple years on here 💔😭😭 & with those said couple years, i have grown sm (as a creator and person) & that is all thanks to yall (my dear jae baes) !!! i would have never imagined getting to this important milestone, let alone start making mdbds ⁉️ i thank you all sm, especially to the ppl that have been here from the very beginning! ☝🏽🤓 i have met sooo many amazing & kind ppl in this lovely community & without all the sweet encouragement, i would be nothing without it 😓😣😣 thank yall for helping me keep this silly little blog going & i appreciate each and everyone of you, babies 💌 all 1k of you deserve the world & i hope you continue to stay by my side 😇 wishing you much love, always 💘🫂 <333

SOME OF MY FAV BLOGS 💐 ˚　　♡　　 ᶻz

— @dovedi @gigittamic @p-oisn @yeritos @fairytopea @jenfaery @ni-shimura @wiotas @s-heon @haevrrs @sseulr1n @japnz <3

@7hyein @lil-liaa @weishnie @jazzitos @iluvrei @minslune @softkiseu @rkkuri @aiirene @nothanxxxxx @y2jiz @ujitoon

@y-vna @r-omantically@sugarish @eun-luv @mxlly143 @beom-yy @khroem @seulzitos @yeonzzens @thsv

@iluvrei @h-ao @fllsnz @ryeins @lil-liaa @aegsll @chocothread @yrminji @p-osse ( >_• )/♡ (sorry i dont want to tag too many ppl)

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

thank u @ckducky for drawing funny art of charlie's silly spear jealously and making THIS mental image pop into my head XD

Vaggie: "Thanks for doing this for us again, Ms. Rosie."

Rosie: "Oh my dear you know I'm just TICKLED PINK to help!"

Vaggie: "Well we really need it."

Charlie: "No we don't. I'm acting completely normally for this situation. I am being Totally Rational."

Vaggie: "Sweetie-

Charlie: "TOTALLY. RATIONAL."

Vaggie: "Charlie, you promised you'd be open minded about this...."

Charlie: "I am open! I just also know Rosie is going to AGREE with me on this!!"

Rosie: "Ohoho I suppose we'll see about that, won't we~?"

Rosie: "Now, why don't we put that spear away, hmm? And then the three of us can settling in for a nice long chat while you tell auntie Rosie all abut it!"

Vaggie: "Uh, actually. The spear has to stay."

Rosie: "Oh?"

Vaggie: "I'm kinda just dropping it off?"

Charlie: "Dropping IT off? Oh thanks Vaggie for coming alllllll this way- for the SPEAR."

Vaggie: "Them. I'm dropping THEM off."

Rosie: "... I'm afraid I don't quite follow? You came here for relationship advice, yes?"

Vaggie: "Right. Charlie's having relationships issues."

Charlie: "IT'S NOT AN ISSUE."

Rosie: "You mean, you and Charlie are having issues?"

Charlie: "THIS IS A NORMAL LEVEL OF FRUSTRATION!"

Vaggie: "No."

Charlie: "I'VE BEEN DEALING THIS THIS FOR Y E A R S AND HONESTLY I THINK I DESERVE A MEDAL FOR IT AT THIS POINT!!"

Rosie: "Charlie and... the spear?"

Charlie: "THAT BITCH!"

Vaggie: "Yeah."

Rosie: "I feel as though I understand even less. Isn't your spear-"

Vaggie: "Inanimate, yeah."

Charlie: "Oh don't let it fool you. It knows EXACTLY what it's doing-"

Charlie: "-SEE? SEE!! Look at it GLEAMING all SMUG in the sunlight, all nice and cozy where Vaggie so very CAREFULLY snuggled it into it's own chair-"

Vaggie: "Anyway thanks again Rosie for helping I gotta get back to the hotel."

Rosie: "I.... darling, I'm not sure this quite my...."

Vaggie: (ignores her) "I'll pick th- I'll pick CHARLIE up in an hour."

Rosie: "Wait-"

Vaggie: (smooching charlie's cheek) "Try to talk things out a bit, okay?"

Charlie: "Hmph! There's nothing TO talk about!"

Vaggie: "Okay. But venting to smeone might make you feel better?"

Charlie: "...maybe."

Vaggie: "Good. That's all I care about."

Charlie: (melting) "Yeah?"

Vaggie: "Yep~"

Charlie: "All you care about huh..." (sulking) "What about the spear."

Vaggie: "Literally just a spear, babe." (smooches her again) "Have fun with this, Rosie!"

Vaggie: (leaves)

Rosie: "......"

Charlie: "......"

The spear: (is a spear)

Rosie: "....right then! For this I think, tea will NOT be precisely what we need!" (pulls out a bottle) "One shot, or two?"

Charlie: "Did you know she RUBS that thing with OIL every night?"

Roise: (smiling and nodding) "Five shots it is then~"

[potatobugxo]

Hey I saw your have requests open and I was wondering if you were willing to write a very fem presenting f!reader who is ace but doesn't really care how she is perceived based on her taste in clothes or the infamous being walked into while changing x Alastor and Lucifer (separate, together or just one of the two. However you like it).

How would they react? I think Al would be ever the gentleman and maybe appreciate that he can just be and live with the body he was given and she would look in his eyes even if he'd be bathing or something (ngl I think bathing together is such a cute thing and I hate that lewd minds ruin the innosence in it and the level of trust and comfort with one's self and another one can gain from it)

Like he is not just some hot piece of ass but a person in her mind no matter how he is presenting himself.

As for Lucifer I think he'd be curious about how she sees those situations as sensual and innocent where everyone else would just jump to sex and maybe find comfort in her view of him.

Or just a very oblivious sweet f!reader with them.

Idk if I make much sense and if you don't want to write it that's perfectly fine. I hope you have a lovely day!

Thank you so much!!!!

i really like the contrast between these two for this idea!! i wasnt sure if you meant them walking in on the reader changing or the reader walking in on them changing (so i went with both sjsjfs) and thank u bby i hope you have a lovely day as well <33 warnings: mentioned nudity (not graphically described) lucifer's part is more suggestive silly

walking in on alastor/lucifer changing & vice versa (seperate)

you walking in on him changing:

"o-oh! uh! sorry, sweetheart! i didn't, uh, see you there!"

very flustered right off the bat. man was in the middle of putting his pants on when you walked in okay he was not emotionally prepared

you just blink at him widely and then smile, saying, "dinner's ready whenever you're hungry!" before abruptly leaving

f l a b b e r g h a s t e d

lucifer knows your ace but he thought you'd have more of a reaction to seeing him with his lil white booty hanging out

he joins you for dinner later and you make conversation about your day as if you didn't just witness his bare cheeks walking in on you changing:

"OH GOOD GOLLY UH, SORRY ABOUT THAT!"

his wheeze laugh really comes through with this one

"oh, it's okay, luci, i was just getting ready for bed."

he doesn't know what to do, should he cover his eyes and turn his back to be polite?? should he leave?? is he allowed to stare??

you just continue to take your clothes off and put your pajamas on while he's gawking like an idiot trying to think of what he should do

by the time he snaps out of it you're shimmying under the covers and patting the pillow beside you for him to join

it's obviously okay for him to change in front of you now so he does and rolls under the covers beside you

poor guy has a tough time understanding how you can be so innocent, a sweet lil smile on your face as you snuggle up to him with nothing but a shirt on and no ulterior motive

you walking in on him changing:

he'd be in the middle of removing his dress shirt when you stride into his room

"alastor are you- oh are you getting ready for bed?"

"why, you're right on time my dear! i was just about to take a bath. care to join me?"

you both are asexual you got no problems here 💀

bathtime is something alastor genuinely enjoys with you because he knows you won't feel uncomfortable or make things weird

he loves when you wash his hair for him and he enjoys giving you shoulder rubs

he's content that neither of you are ashamed of your bodies nor ashamed of showing them as there is no sexual motives to any of it

walking in on you changing:

"oh, my apologies my dear!"

he would be strolling into your room while you're slipping into your regular attire for the day

very gentlemanly, and even though he knows you're okay with showing your body around him he's still polite about it and turns on his heel to avert his gaze

"it's okay alastor, it's no problem!"

sometimes if you'll allow him to, he'll assist you as you change, for example pulling your overshirt or coat over your shoulders, or assisting with pulling your boots on

its a sweet way for him to express his affection for you! he needs to treat his lady right after all!

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hi darling!~ (I'll immediately stop calling you that if you don't like it/don't feel comfortable lol) Lately your girlies been obsessing over the song 'Older' by Isabel LaRosa that's been going BADSHIT popular on tiktok so I thought I'd spill some thoughts~

Teacher!Vil X Yandere(ish)!Student!Yuu

Summary : Yuu who grew up with a bad father and gained heavy daddy issues gets attached to her teacher after he starts giving her the fatherly love and care she never got, always being nice and checking up on her. at first it's a simple silly crush on her teacher but after time it blooms into an obsession where she starts lusting after him and craves constant validation from him. In her eyes he's the perfect guy, he's older and has more experience, he could never treat her wrong. even though he may be colder from time to time she believes he has a soft spot for her. Poor Yuu when the teacher who she fell so madly inlove with doesn't return her feelings and begins distancing himself from her.... Or will he?..

(Your ending <3)

Surprise me sweetheart ♡

-Prev. 🥀🦋 / Now 🎋🪭

I really like that song, might become my newest obsession... 🖤🖤🖤🖤

Yandere Teacher Vil Schoenheit x Obsessed Student Reader 

Vil definitely has that aura of an unbiased but caring mentor much like Crewel. He’s confident and quaint, praising you in any capacity thrills most who receive it. Granted it’s sprinkled with underlying insults and a general lack of faith. But for someone like you, who can barely get your own father to even look at you it means so much more:

So of course you’ll obsess over him 

Putting him on a pedestal you’re willing to do anything for 

Study and pass his class

Tell on all the naughty potatoes in class

Even framing the professor he’s wanted gone since the beginning

“Well done.”

“R-really?”

“Yes, I’m quite pleased you’ve proven to be more helpful than the other useless potatoes.”

“T-thank you M-Mister Vil!”

He doesn’t stop you or even act like he doesn’t reciprocate

A few light touches

A kiss or two

A nibble of the ear

Your friends warn you  when they realize the love of your life is the degrading teacher of etiquette 

“This isn’t a good idea…(Y/n) he’s like much older than you.”

“So? That just means he has experience!”

“He’s thinking about retirement!”

“Early retirement!”

“Nooo!”

Nothing really stops you from your newfound love 

That is until he crashes the illusion himself 

“Oh~Roi du Poison, don’t tell me you’ve fallen for the misguided doe?”

“Please, they’re just a tool I’m sharpening. A potato I’ve decided is worth polishing…for the time being.”

It destroys you

What meaning of life is there if he doesn’t even care about yours

You stop showing up to school

You won’t leave your room

“Where is (L/n)?”

“Pft wouldn’t you like to know!”

“We’re not telling you. You don’t deserve to even speak to them.”

“Fine if that’s how it’s going to be, I’ll give your regards to them.”

“What?!” “Wait!” 

Unbeknownst to you Vil is very much in love with you 

But what did you expect?!

That he’d admit to actually being just as obsessed if not more so than you

He figured the best way to keep you close enough was by taking advantage of your emotional flaw

And while he wasn’t wrong, 

he realized the way it’s been going is all too risky

Nosy obstacles friends of yours, suspicious coworkers, gossiping potatoes

It’s just too risky so he’ll promptly resign putting time and energy into his former hobby

Taking the world by storm he’ll disappear

Giving you the so-called space you want so badly

But he’ll be watching

Watching as you mend yourself together only to fall apart again with every new tragedy

Your grades suspiciously slip

Your house is going to be foreclosed

Your father disappears one evening becoming a missing person’s case

And finally, your dear poor friends suddenly die

Catching some sickness after investigating something they refused to tell you about in  the forest

It’s there, where you’ve graduated and are at your lowest once again that he makes his move

“It’s been a while, (L/n).”

He’ll skew the events that day claiming the doe was someone else or that it was all a cover

And like that, he’ll slither back into your heart with his leash fully keeping you within his grasp

“For all that trouble, (Y/n) you’re irrevocably mine.”

[velvetyvoyage]

Hey there li'l fella!

sypnosis: how some of the bsd charecters react to you (their lover or s/o or spouse or whateva) gifting them a silly lil pet.

includes: fyodor, nikolai, dazai, kunikida

a/n: i honestly should have stopped after fyodor and nikolai but oh well.

the following convo happens through text

->"Fedyaaaaaaaaa when r u coming home???"

"I'm pretty sure I'll be back late tonight. Why? Is there something wrong? or something you need me to get?"

"no no, i don need anything rn" "i just got you a lil something"

"oh? And what might that be?"

"no spoilers!"

"alright alright. I'll try come home as soon as i can"

"okieeeee" "get me ice cream on the way!"

"[insert ur fav ice cream/s]?"

"yep!"

the following happens in real time

-> you're kneeling down on the floor to admire the lil dark-grey furry friend with a white cotton hat in front of you when you hear someone opening the front door downstairs [don't ask me how ur able to hear a door opening downstairs, u just can. ok?]. assuming it's fyodor, you rush down the staircase.

"why are you awake at this hour?" he says, closing the freezer door.

"i was simply waiting for you" "come! i wanna show you something"

"alright, lead the way."

*Insert Time Skip*

"..." "soooooo, what do ya think?"

"Love, why'd you bring a rat into the house?" "says you" *insert a v big side eye from you to him*

"what's that supposed to mean?" "ohh nothing!"

"well... is this your pet now?" "our pet* " "guess what i named it?"

"what?" " i named him... Phyodor. p-h-y-o-d-o-r"

"Dear, doesn't that name ring a bell?" "oh what ever do you mean?" you say, very dramatically.

-> just stares at you like 🤨😐😑

-> "And what if i don't want to keep it?" "well, then I'll simply "donate" phyodor to a near by orphanage or something"

the both of you were on a stroll outside and decided to sit down on a bench in a near by park

-> "y/nnnnnnnnnnn watcha got there?"

"a dove" "it's so... pretty" you say. as you were feeding a flock of doves, one of them perched up on your lap.

"i wanna take it home"

"QUIZZZ TIMEEEE" he shrieks twirling around. "QUESTION 1: why do you, y/n l/n wanna take it home!?"

"because it's pretty and i wanna admire it every day? but... i can't take it home"

"interesting answer!" "QUESTION TWOOO: why can't you take it home? what is stopping you?"

"you." "HUHHHHH!?!?" "even if i want a pet bird, i know damn well that you will set it free and also i don't want to confine it between bars." you say with a perseptive look on your face. "besides i don't really need a pet"

"ohh? why so" "cuz i have you to take care of?" *dramatic gasp* *flabbergasted*

"I! am not a pet!" "but i still have to take care of you" "hmp!" he says as he puffs his cheeks, shuts his eyes and turns his head the other side. (ur looking north (at the birdies), he's facing east)

"why would i admire a mere bird when i could admire you instead" you murmured, a pleasant smile playing on your face.

"what was that?" "oh nothing"

-> why? just why would you give him a pet to take care of? he's one himself and you know it.

-> the poor thing... :(((

-> whatever the animal is, it'd probably take care of him instead.

*cough* @🍣 *cough*

-> does he really need a pet? like cmon?

-> also if you're in a relationship with him, no matter how responsible or independent you are, he'd have to take care of you too.

-> goldfish. he'd have a goldfish

-> it's the most fitting tbh

-> it'd just be minding it's own business in its lil fish tank unlike a certain mackerel.

the pics at the start were only for aesthetic (which failed but oh well) and is not at all relevant to the post.