#under and around and within all of the pain

[carnalcrows]

DEADBEAT BABY DADDY - JUNHEE

pairing: jun-hee x guard! male reader

synopsis: A very pregnant and very pissed-off Jun-hee finds an unexpected way to relieve her stress—with a little help from you.

content warnings: 18+, ooc characters, breast sucking, lactation kink (?), clitoris stimulation, semi-public sex.

word count: 0.8k

A/N: had fun with this fic lolol. req

The dormitory was filled with the usual dull hum of  players chatting and masked guards going about their duties—shuffling boots, quiet conversations, and the occasional scolding from a higher-up. But above all that, a sharp, familiar voice rang out.

"You absolute bastard, Myung-gi!"

A few nearby players and guards turned their heads ever so slightly before quickly minding their business. No one wanted to be caught in the crossfire when a pregnant woman was pissed.

You, however, had the misfortune of standing right next to her as she advanced on Myung-gi, who had the audacity to look amused despite the absolute fury radiating off of her.

"You knew I was pregnant, and you still dragged me into this nightmare?" she hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest.

Myung-gi scoffed, shoving his hands into his pockets like this was all some minor inconvenience. "First of all, I didn't drag you into anything. Second, you needed the money, didn’t you?"

Jun-hee actually looked like she might strangle him. "I needed money to take care of my baby, not to be stuck in this hellhole surrounded by trigger-happy idiots and—"

She gestured wildly in your direction.

"—him!"

You blinked. "Me? What did I do?"

She turned on you like a storm brewing, eyes fiery. "You're the one who keeps following me around, Triangle Boy!"

You raised your hands in defense. "That's because someone needs to make sure you don’t pass out from stress!"

Jun-hee groaned, rubbing her temple. "I swear, if I survive this, I'm killing you both after I give birth."

She stomped away, muttering under her breath, leaving you standing there awkwardly with Myung-gi.

"...So," he said, stretching, "you two got something going on?"

You shoved him as you walked past. "Shut up."

Later that night, you found her in the dimly lit bathroom, leaning against the sink, breathing deeply. Her hands cradled her stomach instinctively, her frustration from earlier replaced by something softer.

"You okay?" you asked, shutting the door behind you.

She huffed. "No. My feet hurt, my back hurts, and my brain is melting from being surrounded by morons all day."

You hesitated before stepping closer. "Anything I can do?"

She eyed you, skeptical. "Anything?"

"Uh... within reason."

A slow smirk formed on her lips, but it quickly faded into something more vulnerable. "It's stupid, but..." She exhaled, shifting uncomfortably. "My chest is killing me."

You furrowed your brows. "Like, heart pain? Or—"

She shot you a deadpan look.

"Oh. Ohhh." Your face heated. "That’s... um."

Pregnancy was making her breasts sore and swollen, and yeah, you’d read somewhere that relieving the pressure could help, but—

"Forget it," she mumbled, moving to leave.

You grabbed her wrist before you could think twice. "No! I mean... I can help. If you want."

She looked at you carefully, searching for any sign of mockery or hesitation. Finding none, she sighed and leaned back against the sink.

"Fine. But no weird comments, got it?"

You nodded solemnly. "I promise to be the pinnacle of professionalism while sucking your—"

She smacked the back of your head.

"Shutting up now."

You slowly slid off your mask– this was definitely against the rules but– when in need, eh?

Carefully placing your hands on her waist, you lowered your head to her tits as she adjusted herself slightly. The warmth of her body, the gentle rise and fall of her breath—it all felt strangely intimate. As your mouth latched onto her, a shudder ran through her, and she let out a soft, relieved sigh.

You held her waist with one hand as you kneaded her free breast with the other. She let out soft moans, arching her back in such a way that you took more of her into your mouth.

Your hand slid from her waist to the hem of her track pants– tugging at the hem as a silent ask for permission. She let you– shimming down the tracks, along with her panties. You rubbed lazy circles around her clit as you latched onto the other breast, giving both equal attention.

"...You’re surprisingly good at this," she breathed out, her fingers absentmindedly carding through your hair.

You pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze. "Do not make this weird, Player 222."

She smirked lazily. "Too late."

You rolled your eyes and returned to your task, focusing on helping her relax.

For a while, the world outside the bathroom didn't exist. There were no games, no fear, no guns—just the warmth of her body against yours and the steady rhythm of her breathing.

And then the door opened.

You froze. Jun-hee froze. A shadow loomed in the doorway, and through the dim lighting, you could make out none other than Player 001 himself.

There was a long, excruciating silence.

"...Am I interrupting something?" His voice was flat, but you could feel the judgment.

“Boss–It’s uh, not what it looks like–”

“BOSS?!”

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[jollyhunter]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐝 𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐟 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐕𝐢𝐱𝐞𝐧

Puffy parted lips make way for a guttural moan. Hips roll up to meet you with languid motions, drawing out every thrust. Slow, deep and steady strokes. Thick swollen tip pushed in and out, pulled along your tight walls all the way up until he rams your cervix and back down until your tight muscles grip onto him.

Eyes flit across the ceiling and dive under your eyelids. Another, louder groan echoes through your bedroom at your family’s house.

“Shhh-“ Calloused fingers lock your jaw closed, choking back a whimper of yours. Dean's thumb pulls at the tip of your lower lip, his gravel voice low and yet enough to shaken your breath. “You’re so vocal, baby - but you gotta keep it down. I don’t wanna get a speech of your dad in the morning.”

Your lips chase his thumb as he draws it down your chin, catching it between your teeth and pulling it in like you’d just trapped your prey.

A low, dangerous growl rumbles in his chest when your lips tightly wrap around his knuckle joint and you start to lick and suck on his coarse digit.

The vibration travels down to your core, tingling, sending a shiver across your body. The growl is a warning as much as a grudging praise. Green orbs flash up at your cheeky smile. Like you’re testing his authority, poking the wolf.

And he fucking loves it.

You were playful. And dirty. You challenge him. And to him, you were deadly.

“C’mon my sweet little vixen.” He coos with a mock-innocent expression when he notices your depleting energy. “You can do one more for me, can’t ya?”

You nod, your eyes halfway hidden behind your heavy eyelids. You were somewhere caught in a state of lust and drowsiness. Your hips rock against his hardness that's buried deep within you, but you lack any rhythm.

And it wasn't really a surprise, seeing as Dean's fingers had just lured you out of your sleep not too long ago.

Parts of you wondered why you were even up here right now. Straddling your boyfriend’s hips in this ungodly hour. Would you have been more rational, you'd have never agreed to this. The knowledge of your parents sleeping two doors down the corridor, while you were riding him inside you? God no.

But it didn't take much incentive to coax - what Dean called your 'sweet little vixen' - out of you.

Fingertips had stroked you up and down, parting your folds, and a rough thumb had flicked across your sensitive bundle of nerves until his hand began to soak in your slick. His nose had brushed along your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your shampoo. Meanwhile his teeth had skimmed your skin in ways that sent a dangerous shiver down your spine.

Your breath had quickly turned heavy and laced with soft, shy moans that slipped past your sleep. Moments later you found yourself on top of Dean's. Riding his bucking hips as well as you could in your drowsy state.

Another moan of yours gets muffled by Dean's thumb still jammed in your mouth. He had roughly snapped his hips up to coax those sweet sounds from your throat. But also, Dean had noticed how you were barely holding onto your wake mind.

Your hooded eyes keep rolling back with soft whimpers and your legs are shaking like they had been riding a bull for the past half an hour.

"C'mon little vixen, don't tap out on me now." He chuckles lowly, his lips quirked into a sly smirk as he watches you try to regain your balance on top of his bucking hips.

You slump forward and bring your hands down on his chest. And Dean's heart skips a beat when he could swear that he’d caught a glimpse of you narrowing your eyes at him, a smile flashing across your lips. And you did.

Long claws leave red marks in their wake as you rake them down Dean's chest. He hisses from the pain, his eyes narrowed at you with a warning glare. But this wolf couldn't fool you with his snarls, and you both knew it.

"Careful there," he adds in a verbal warning, his voice dropped an octave.

Your lips pull into a tired smile as you lean down to whisper something into his ear. And Dean lets out groan at your dirty sex talk.

To the world outside of this intimate act of yours, you were a shy, innocent girl. For strangers, an introverted pretty girl and for your family, the perfect, little angel.

But in his touch you turned into a sex-drunk, confident and bold woman. Kinky, naughty, and oh so willing to be taken any time by him. You were his clever, sassy, little vixen. Only his to take.

The thought of him being the only one allowed to see this side of yours... Knowing that he could coax that little vixen out of you. That you were nothing like you made the world believe, nothing close to the innocent image you had. That he was able to corrupt you in the most beautiful way possible. That you'd trust him enough to let him witness this downright sinful side of yours…

...It all turned him on, made him proud. Made his lips pull into a wolfish grin of satisfaction.

You were like a fox trapped in the jaws of a wolf. And you relished it. The knowledge that only he was the harbour of your beast. Only he held the key to get it out.

Only you held the privilege that he could snap you in half in a heartbeat - like anyone who'd just look at you the wrong way - but never would. Only you could be rest assured that he’d never bite you.

Only you could roll him over onto his back and have him whimper.

Dean pulls his thumb from your mouth, both his hands gripping onto your hips now in a merciless grip. When your eyes meet, he bucks his hips. His hard length gets slammed inside you, triggering a surprised whine from you that pulls his lips into a satisfied smug grin.

When your hips try to pull away, his large hands pull you down to meet his next thrust with your core flush against his pelvis and his tip bruising your cervix.

You whimper, buckle and fall forward. Your forehead comes to rest on the reddened marks on his chest while your fingers claw at his shoulder where you hold onto him.

Whimpers of yours mingle with his grunts and groans as he rides you both towards your climax. His fingers dig into your flesh when he notices you shaking, holding you close as your walls start to flutter around his cock. His tight grip was leaving you no chance for escape, leaving you completely at his mercy. And you loved it.

You could squirm in his jaws, knowing the fangs that surrounded you would never pierce you. Fangs that held you down but never back. Jaws that didn’t keep you in but others out.

You tamed the wolf that has seen through your innocence. The only man who’s allowed to tame your secret wild spirit.

A/N: A "BadWolf!Dean x SweetVixen!Reader" drabble I had to get out of my system ahhh I've been holding onto this thought for way too long. Idk yet where this is going or whether anybody else needed this lmao, but you're welcome if you did. Also I'm sorry I didn't get to proofread or anything I just typed this out on the way to work. I still have so much to catch up on with all your writings!! I hope I’ll get the time to reply, read and comment on them all on the weekend! <3

EDIT: Not me changing the head banner 'cuz that one image had to be edited

Dean tag list:

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell

[batboysanonymous]

Breaking Point (Pt. II)

Cassian x Reader

Summary: In the heart of the Illyrian wilderness, courage is a blade honed by fear—but it takes more than steel to survive. As the forest becomes a battleground, Cassian is forced to confront what he stands to lose—and whether it’s already too late to save her.

Word Count: 1.2k

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The mountains were silent except for the wind, carrying whispers of tension and regret as Azriel followed the path Cassian had taken. Shadows wrapped around him like armor, but it wasn’t to shield himself—it was to prepare for whatever storm brewed within his brother.

Azriel found Cassian perched on the edge of a cliff, wings stretched wide as though he were daring the wind to carry him away. His posture was stiff, his broad back to Azriel, but the tension in his wings betrayed his inner turmoil.

“You shouldn’t have stopped me,” Cassian said without turning around, his voice rough, raw.

Azriel’s boots crunched on the rocky terrain as he stepped closer, the sound swallowed by the vastness of the landscape. “You were going to make it worse,” he replied evenly.

Cassian finally turned, his hazel eyes burning with frustration. “She’s my mate, Az. I had every right to go after her.”

Azriel crossed his arms, his face an unreadable mask. “And do what? Throw more fuel on the fire? You think shouting at her again would’ve fixed anything?”

Cassian’s wings twitched, and he looked away, his jaw tight. “You don’t understand. She doesn’t get it—what she means to me, what it would do to me if something happened to her.”

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows trailing behind him. “You’re right. She doesn’t get it, because all you’ve done is shout and insult her. Do you even hear yourself, Cass? The way you spoke to her back there?”

Cassian flinched, guilt flashing across his face before it was buried under his stubbornness. “She’s reckless, Az. She throws herself into danger without thinking, and I can’t—” His voice broke, and he looked down, his fists clenching at his sides. “I can’t lose her.”

“And you think tearing her down is the way to keep her safe?” Azriel’s voice was low, cutting. “Do you even realize what you said? What you implied? You’re not protecting her, Cassian. You’re pushing her away.”

Cassian’s wings drooped, the weight of Azriel’s words settling heavily on his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to…” he muttered, his voice barely audible. “I just—damn it, Az, I don’t know what to do.”

Azriel’s gaze softened, but his tone remained firm. “You start by apologizing. Not with excuses or justifications—just an apology. But more importantly, you need to let her prove herself. She’s not some fragile thing, Cassian. She’s your mate. Treat her like one.”

Cassian exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “And what if she gets hurt? What if I lose her because I gave her too much space?”

Azriel stepped closer, his shadows brushing against Cassian’s shoulders like a reassuring hand. “You can’t protect her from everything, no matter how much you want to. The only thing you’ll lose her to is yourself if you keep this up.”

Cassian didn’t respond, his gaze fixed on the horizon as if it held the answers he so desperately sought.

──────────────────────────────

The trees closed in around her as Y/N stalked through the forest, her emotions a whirlwind she couldn’t contain. Cassian’s words echoed in her mind, cutting deeper than any blade.

“Failing miserably.”

The phrase replayed over and over, each time twisting the knife further. She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms as she fought the tears that threatened to fall.

She wouldn’t cry. She wouldn’t let him see how much his words had hurt.

But the pain festered, mixing with anger and something darker—something reckless.

She couldn’t just sit around and let his doubts define her. She needed to prove him wrong, to show him that she wasn’t some fragile thing that needed constant protection.

Which was how she found herself standing at the edge of the Illyrian hunting grounds, staring at the dense forest where the beasts prowled.

It was a place even seasoned warriors approached with caution. The creatures here were deadly, their strength and ferocity unmatched. But that was exactly what Y/N needed—something to prove her worth, to silence the doubts Cassian had planted in her mind.

──────────────────────────────

Cassian was pacing when Azriel’s head snapped up, his shadows suddenly writhing around him like agitated snakes.

“What?” Cassian asked, stopping mid-step.

Azriel’s face darkened, his expression one of grim determination. “She’s gone.”

“What do you mean, she’s gone?” Cassian demanded, his wings flaring in alarm.

“She left the camp,” Azriel said, his voice tight. “And I think I know where she’s headed.”

Cassian’s heart plummeted, a cold dread settling in his chest. “The hunting grounds,” he said, the words barely a whisper.

Azriel nodded, already moving. “We need to move. Now.”

Cassian didn’t wait for further explanation. He took off, his wings slicing through the air as he flew toward the forest. Azriel was right behind him, his shadows keeping pace as they raced against time.

──────────────────────────────

Y/N’s breath came in sharp gasps as she moved through the dense underbrush, her senses on high alert. The forest was eerily quiet, the usual sounds of birds and small animals replaced by an oppressive silence.

Her grip tightened on the sword she carried, the weight of it grounding her as she pushed forward. She knew the risks of being here alone, but she didn’t care. All that mattered was proving that she could handle herself, that she wasn’t the liability Cassian seemed to think she was.

The first sign of danger came in the form of a low growl, the sound vibrating through the air like a warning.

Y/N froze, her eyes scanning the shadows for the source of the sound.

The creature emerged slowly, its massive form dwarfing her as it stepped into the faint light filtering through the trees. Its fur was dark and matted, its eyes glowing with a predatory hunger that sent a chill down her spine.

For a moment, fear threatened to take hold, but Y/N forced it down. She tightened her grip on the sword, her jaw set as she prepared to face the beast.

This was her chance to prove herself—to prove Cassian wrong.

The creature lunged.

──────────────────────────────

Cassian’s heart was pounding as he and Azriel landed at the edge of the hunting grounds. He didn’t wait for Azriel’s guidance, his instincts driving him forward as he plunged into the forest.

“Cassian, wait!” Azriel called, but Cassian didn’t slow down.

“She’s in here, Az,” he said, his voice tight with fear. “I can feel it.”

Azriel followed without argument, his shadows fanning out to search the area.

They moved quickly, their senses heightened as they scanned for any sign of Y/N. The silence of the forest was suffocating, each second that passed without finding her only fueling Cassian’s panic.

And then they heard it—the sound of a struggle, the clash of metal and the guttural roar of a beast.

Cassian didn’t think. He surged forward, his wings propelling him faster as he tore through the trees.

When he burst into the clearing, the sight before him made his blood run cold.

Y/N stood in the center, her sword raised as she faced a massive beast. Blood dripped from a wound on her arm, but her stance was steady, her expression one of fierce determination.

But she was outmatched.

The beast lunged, its claws swiping dangerously close, and Y/N barely managed to dodge.

“Y/N!” Cassian roared, his voice shaking with equal parts fear and fury.

She turned toward him, her eyes wide, and in that split second of distraction, the beast struck.

The world seemed to slow as Cassian watched the creature’s claws swipe toward her, its fangs bared in a deadly snarl.

Azriel’s shadows shot forward, but even they weren’t fast enough to stop what was coming.

And then the clearing was filled with the sound of a scream—raw and piercing, echoing through the trees as Cassian’s heart shattered.

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Want to join my tag list? Drop a comment or check out this link to submit a specific series you would like tagged in! (Or if you just don't want to comment, that's okay too)

[mythauragame]

Development Update - January 2025

Hi there everyone, welcome to the January development update for Mythaura! 2025 got off to a strong start: art and writing for the content needed for launch are already well underway and have been scoped out in detail for our team to measure ourselves against, and as you'll see below, Koa and Sark knocked out a TON of work that is making Mythaura into an immersive world that you will eventually be able to play within!

We've got a lot of ground to cover today. We've been keeping fairly quiet on in-universe lore and worldbuilding, but plan on sharing more content about it with you all over the course of 2025. Today's update will focus on the city of Talon's Rest, which is where the player will find themselves at the very beginning of their journey through Mythaura.

We're opening up our first Beast Creator Contest of 2025 as well! We'll be picking three winners, whose characters will be turned into a minor NPC in town. We also have the results from the Ko-fi Winter Quarter rewards voting, Mythauran astrology for the month of February, a beautiful new color for the color wheel, Quetzal expressions, and more!

Talon's Rest

Players will begin their journey in the burgeoning city of Talon's Rest, a garrison-turned-city built around a Cipher Pedestal. The Long War, which carried on ceaselessly for over a century, took almost as long to properly recover from. As formal trade routes began to follow the newly-built cross-continental roads, Talon's Rest found itself in a unique position: they were the biggest city in range of the Arena, a popular destination since Atticus commissioned its restoration at the end of the war. It has become the de facto stopping point for the crowds traveling to the Arena.

Talon's Rest has put the money toward the beautification of its city's public places and the sposorship of artists, scientists, and mathemeticians, but is still grappling with the growing pains associated with a social infrastructure that's not built to support this many people all at one time. Residents have mixed feelings about the influx of new businesses, the changing economy, and the cultural identity of Talon's Rest. Many are willing to air these grievances and sing these praises with whoever will listen to them.

Setting

Talon's Rest is situated at the edge of a north-facing cliff that overlooks both Lake Kali and the dense, dark expanse of the Waspwood. It is situated in an agriculturally rich fieldlands broadly referred to as Wind's End, as it is one of the nothernmost stretches of Griffin territory. The monolithic Arena crowns a dormant volcano off to the northeast.

It sits well above sea level, but not quite alpine. The region is located at the foot of a mountain range and enjoys snowpack melt that replenishes streams and the lake with clean, drinkable water. During the summer, it gets dry and the forests around the town can be prone to forest fires as a natural part of the forest lifecycle.

It experiences all four seasons, with warm, dry summers and cold, snowy winters.

History

Talon's Rest is, all things considered, a young city, built around the Pedestal situated at the highest point of the cliff. The first permanent building erected around the pedestal was a garrison used to house the troops of a prominent drift, who'd managed to secure access to the Pedestal and leverage their significant number of Cipher Bearers to ensure that the only Pedestal in the surrounding region stayed under their control. With the surrounding area primarily subsisting of farms with miles and miles between them, they faced little resistance and enjoyed control over the Pedestal for almost twenty years.

Atticus's campaign to unite all Griffin drifts under one banner (known as the Reformation) and regulate Cipher Pedestal usage saw one of its greatest victories take place at this garrison. Atticus, having wielded a powerful military of his own prior to being forced to act in this civil war, had amassed one of the largest single militaries ever organized in Griffin history. The Battle for Talon's Rest was brutal but decisive: the family that had manned the garrison for decades was rendered extinct, and the fort itself was aspirationally renamed as Talon's Rest. Historians consider this the final turning point for the War, where Atticus's success in uniting the Drifts was all but inevitable.

Economy

Talon's Rest was populated by Beasts who worked the farmlands surrounding it; agriculture has been the primary driver of the economy since the very beginning and still serves as the largest revenue stream for the city. Local farmers hybridized different kinds of wheat until they yielded a soft, sweet white crop--the chaff goes to their livestock and the grain is milled into flour to make one of their main exports. It's famed across the continent for its mild and slightly nutty flavor.

The city's position as a natural pausing point for those traveling to the Arena has meant that more taverns, inns, and other lodgings have cropped up. As it became known as a hub for the area, mercenaries and adventurers flocked to Talon's Rest find work, paying a fee in exchange for being able to audition themselves for work in town. There is never a shortage of Beasts showing up to the Recruiter's tavern, ensuring a steady selection of new Beasts for your adventuring roster.

A prevalence of copper mines in the area means that it is the most commonly used metal in architecture, art, and machinery. A rich blue-green pigment, created from ground-up copper patina, is another popular export. Artisans and masons often infuse this pigment into their work, which is why the facade of the highly-regarded medical university in the middle of the city was made using blue-green bricks with copper accents. This pigment fetches a fair price for regions without ready access to copper mines.

Arena Concept Art

Social Media Refresh

We've created a few new social media accounts, standardized the names across the different platforms, and will be posting content more regularly to each of these beyond just our monthly update! We can't think of a character better suited to be the face of Mythaura than Pollis (he/him), an elderly Quetzal merchant and one of the first NPCs you'll run into on your journey through Mythaura.

Next month we will be running a giveaway on Instagram. In the February update, we'll be doing a deeper dive into Wolfwasps, an enemy so powerful and pervasive that the forest around Talon's Rest is named after it: the Waspwood. We'll have some rather radiant items to give away to some lucky contestants. ✨🐺

All of our offical Mythaura social media can be found at the following:

Tumblr: mythauragame

Instagram: @mythauragame

Note: We also own @mythaura on IG, but we have been indefinitely locked out of the account and had to create a new one!

TikTok: @mythaura

BSKY: @mythaura

Twitter: @mythauragame

Facebook: /mythauragame

Sponsored Color: Flytrap

Courtesy of ShiningMoth we have a beautiful new color for the color wheel: Flytrap!

Flytrap is now active in the Beast Creator. We can't wait to see what you create with it!

Ko-fi Winter Quarter 2025 Winners

Thank you to all the Ko-fi sponsors who voted for the Winter Quarter 2025 rewards. Next month we will show the finalized artwork for the Ornaboros Companion and the Snow Drift Shire Unicorn Glamour. Stay tuned!

NPC Design Contest

As we begin to populate Talon's Rest, we'll need plenty of NPC designs—and that's where you come in!

We've created a Google Form for you to submit up to three Beast designs for consideration. Please be sure to include the Beast Creator code or else your entry will not be considered.

In addition to their design being used for a shopkeeper, winners will receive a bundle of useful items for their adventures through the local Wild Area, the Waspwood Forest.

The winners will receive*:

1x Soulshift Coin (breed-changing item) of your choice

1x Godspeed Potion

3x Lockpicks

3x Crude Torch

3x Travel Rations

3x Small Energy Potion

3x Small Health Potion

1x Beta Key

NOTE: * These rewards will not show up in your rewards lookup tool since that tool only looks up Ko-fi rewards, but they will be applied to your account directly!

Quetzal Expressions

Our art team continues to knock it out of the park with the Beast expressions project. They've completed all Specials/Supers/Mutations for both the young and adult Quetzal models.

Luci, Sour, Koa--you never fail to impress. Amazing job to the team!

Mythauran Astrology: February

The month of Frbruary is referred to as Aurora's Canvas, representing the resplendent and plentiful auroras that billow across northern skies. This month is also associated with the constellation of the Stargazer and the hematite stone.

Mythaura v0.34

Overworld Events: Added events like discovering chests, gathering berries, and more.

Fishing & Lockpicking Minigames: Now integrated into the overworld for interactive exploration.

Shops & Restocking System: Built a system to manage shop inventories and periodic restocking.

Elite Enemy System: Elite enemies are now marked on the minimap with new icons. They produce footsteps as they move and appear with a skull icon in battle.

Sealed Contracts: Added support for sealed contracts, which generate a random beast into your abode.

Contract Termination: Added support for contract termination, which deletes a beast from your abode in exchange for items & currency from a loot pool.

Recruitment System: Developed the prototype UI and logic for recruiting G1 beasts into your abode.

Beast Titles: Introduced titles to differentiate and enhance beasts.

Species Movement Overhaul:

Winged beasts can double jump.

Non-winged beasts move faster.

Beast Profiles & Editing: Progress made on profile management, beast dossiers, and customization options.

Map Travel Support: Added the ability to travel between maps (e.g., entering a building and appearing in its interior).

Stair/Ramp Support: Overworld now supports elevation changes like stairs and ramps.

Wall/Interior Support: Built a working prototype for handling interior building walls.

Temporary Loot System: Loot from events (e.g., chests) can now be stored temporarily before claiming.

NPC Battle AI: NPCs can now participate in battles and make action decisions.

Redesigned Battle UI: Improved the battle action selection interface for clarity and usability.

Image Processing Optimization: Refactored how beast images are generated, significantly boosting performance.

Fixed Frame Rate Bugs: Resolved animation consistency issues where player movement was faster at higher frame rates.

Profanity Filter: Added to maintain a safe and friendly community environment.

Loot Collection: Temporary loot from overworld events (like chests) can now be stored and claimed later.

Various Bug Fixes & Cleanup: Addressed numerous bugs and optimized multiple systems for smoother gameplay.

Thank You!

Thanks for sticking through to the end of the post, we always look forward to sharing our month's work with all of you--thank you for taking the time to read. We'll see you around the Discord.

[twst-drabbles]

Divus 4

Summary: Class is over and you and Divus are hanging out in his classroom. Divus gives you his pointer and you used it against him for the fun of it.

(I look at Divus and think 'brat.' Both a brat and a brat tamer at the same time. How fun! Anyways, nothing explicit, no need to worry.)

The day was over and all the students are meandering about, doing whatever after class activities they've signed up for. Usually you'd be in your designated closet, setting up your cleaning cart, but you've had to help Divus with his class all day, so you're more than a little tired.

That and Divus insisted and you're not one to fight a break when you can grab it. If Dire throws a fit, you can throw him under the bus and make a quick getaway.

"Now then, I'd say today went well. Almost suspiciously so, it almost makes my skin crawl." Yeah you can see why. Imagine that, having rowdy students year after year, and suddenly this particular generation of students decide to start behaving. A change like that would rattle people of Divus's type.

"You were itching to punish a student, huh? Starting to miss your 'rowdy pups' I take it?" You stood up from your chair and gave a big stretch, popping a few spots in your spine. You sighed in relief then dragged your chair over to Divus's desk. You two will probably be chatting for a while.

"Haa… a little bit yes, but I have to admit, it's a good thing they're starting to listen to me more. Can't begin to imagine why that's happening though, not with the headmage that we have." Divus flicked his pointer back and forth as he sat down, as if longing to snap it against a desk. "It probably won't be long before I have to put this down, to gather time and dust. How sad."

"A tragedy." You almost expected him to start dramatically sniffing, but he prides himself on not being childish. He settled for a fake little frown. You held out your hand and on instinct, Divus gave you his pointer. "Did you pay a lot for this thing? Feel custom made."

The teacher pointers you've seen all have a uniform flavor to it, where you can easily imagine boxes upon boxes of the stuff inside a teacher's closet. This one though, you expected to have it's own fancy red velvet pillow right besides Divus's bed. It's perfectly polished, and now matter how much you scrutinized it, you can't find a single scratch. He really loves this thing, huh?

"Yes and it makes replacing it such a pain," Divus leaned on his hand, exhaustion covering him like a second fur coat, "but I say it's well worth the thaumarks. It matches me perfectly, doesn't it?"

You paused in your playing around with the white gemstone and looked towards Divus. He gave you a playful wink, as if to tease you for staring. With a deft hand, you snapped that pointer on the table, right on the space between his thumb and finger. Divus jumped a bit, eyes wide open as you stroked the cold golden pointer over the length of his neck. His throat bobbed, his smooth skin sparkling with a sudden light sheen of sweat. You stopped right under his chin. With a nudge of your hand, you forced Divus to look up at you.

There was silence, with only the sound of Divus's breath growing heavier. You didn't waver in the slightest as you held his gaze, his lips lightly parted as if anticipating something. Only when a lock of black hair fell loose from behind his ear did you smile. "Yup, suits you just fine."

Divus went stone still as soon as you took the pointer away and laid it on his desk. Within a few seconds, he rebooted, but the smile he gave back to you was stiff, as if clenching his jaw. His eyes thinned to a very nasty glare.

"Well, wasn't that a nice little prank. Would you like me to show you one of my own?"

"Yeah yeah, maybe later Divus, I know you're not angry at all." You waved him off as you settle back against your chair, stretching just a little bit more to get more parts of you relaxed.

Divus held onto that look for just a minute longer, probably hoping that you'll crack and take him seriously, but he deflated first with a shake of his head and a tired smile. "I really can't pull one over you, can I?"

"Nope. Now, can I hear more about your dogs?"

[eminemily05]

Ratchet x AFAB Reader—Periods—

Currently, I’m battling some cramps of hell of my own. And I wanted to write a story to make myself feel better. Now that I have, I’m sharing it with you all.

I hope this at least helps some of you feel better. Periods are never fun, but always make sure you take good care of yourselves. Treat yourself to sweets, take a nice warm bath, and just..be kind to yourself.

It may suck, but your body is actively doing what it does best for your health. Even if that means cramps every month…or few months, depending on your situation..

Now, please enjoy this little Drabble I’ve made. And I hope it brings some warmth to your hearts (and cramps, 🙏)

———————————————————————————

“Ratch…”

Your soft call tore the medic away from his current focus at the main console. Voice wavering and weak…was that hurt he sensed..?

Looking over, he glanced at your small form. Curled up atop the tatted yellow couch, head perked slightly. Your expression was scrunched in one of discomfort and pain. Olfactory sensors flared and flagged a key chemical scent wafting over.

Blood.

Immediately, he abandoned his current project. Taking a few hurried steps to stand behind the raised platform, glancing down at you with worried, appraising optics. You looked back up at him, a pained whine leaving your throat.

You squirmed around, hands pressing down against your abdomen to try and quell the spikes of discomfort. “I-It hurts…”

Scanning you, he gave a soft sigh. Concern flashed through his optics, antenna dropping just slightly. He knew this was a rough time for you.

You had explained to him what it was the first time this had happened. Naturally, it was going to occur in their presence, within the months you’d stay there. So, you figured if anyone needed to understand your predicament with periods, it was Ratchet.

At first, he’d been horrified. Not at you. Gods never. But at the fact that this was so normal. The idea of a Cybertronian bleeding Energon every couple times of a Quartex nearly sent him into shock. Not to mention how painful you had described it to be.

I mean, on par with a human heart attack? For something so small, your species seemed so durable.

But, as the team’s hybrid medic for human and machine, he took it upon himself to learn. Through the web, and you. He learned what he could, and asked for help when he needed more explanations. Now, he felt well equipped.

Ratchet gently set a digit against your lower belly, taking a measure of any inflammation or otherwise unseen pain. He could just hear how painful the cramps sounded.

“Did you take any anti-inflammatory medication? Pain relievers or Acetaminophen?” He glanced at your face as you nodded. Hmm…clearly it hadn’t kicked in yet..

You gripped onto the digit against your lower stomach desperately. “I-I took them some few minutes ago…but I forgot my heating pad at home…” Looking up at his optics, you gave an expression of discomfort.

His spark flared at the sight, audials flicking down as he sighed.

“Of course…” Glancing back at the console, he weighed his options.

He still had piles of work to do. Formulas to refine, tools to repair, files to decode. Then, he looked at you. His human. His pained human, and he didn’t need any other convincing.

Gently, he lifted you in both servos. Whining slightly at the sudden movement as a flare of cramps spiked in your belly. He pulled you against his chassis, engine rumbling gently just under the surface.

“Relax, Sweetspark…I have you..” he mumbled softly, finials clicking up just a notch as you nodded and curled your body against his frame.

Carefully, he made his way to his habsuite. Cautious, as not to rile more cramps in your poor body. His engine gave a worried whine as he glanced at you, body desperately seeking warmth. He crooned at the sigh, optical ridges drawn in concern. “I know…I know..”

Curse your biology for making you suffer like this. He couldn’t even imagine the pain you were dealing with. And it hurt that he couldn’t do much to relieve it.

As he punched the code in for his habsuite, he pressed you to his warm chassis and entered. Metal thumb rubbing soothingly against your hair.

He carried himself over to his berth, settling into the malleable metal that accommodated his back kibble. Gently, he settled you on his chassis. Watching as you squirmed around for a comfortable position.

Eventually, you rested flat on your tummy. Stomach pressed against the warmth radiating from his chassis as soft whines left you. The pain continued to spike as you sought out the heat.

“Ratchet..” You cried desperately, soft hands gripping onto any purchase of his frame you could find. “I-It hurts.!”

His spark flared, plating hissing at your pain. He couldn’t help but feel helpless, useless. Watching his little partner as they wriggled and cried, unable to really do anything.

Curse the gods for bringing this upon them. If he could smite this pain-

Without even thinking, his engine rumbled and revved loudly. The vibration, combined with the rising heat of his cylinders firing, seemed to quell you somewhat. He watched as your little frame untensed a hair, and he needed no more time.

Gently, he set his engine to a low rumble. Idling it quietly and relaxing as the vibrations and warmth slowly settled into your form. Your brow unclenched, a soft sigh of relief escaping as you glanced at him.

He sighed, resting a large servo over your form. The metal acting as the perfect insulation—and bonus weighted blanket— for your body. Steadily, you relaxed and practically melted against his plating.

Yet, he couldn’t help but still feel bad. “I’m sorry…I wish there was more I could do to relieve you of this..” he grumbled, tone full of annoyance but optics full of silent shame. Shame he couldn’t help his own mate.

A gentle kiss against his chassis soothened his thoughts. You looked up at him, eyes lidded with a sense of exhaustion.

Had they taken that much out of you? Curses!

“This is perfect, Ratch.” Your soft smiled cut through the berating thoughts of his spark and pride. “Best heating pad I’ll ever need.”

He chuckled softly as he watched you settle in against the plating. Eyes closing softly as the warmth pulled you closer to sleep.

“Besides…” you mumbled, a happy smile on your face. “Having my big, metal partner to help me makes it feel just a little bit better. Don’t beat yourself up.”

The last part was a bit muffled, as your cheek pressed against his chassis and you were out like a light. Humming, he ran a thumb over your hair. A soft smile graced his faceplate as he watched you subconsciously lean into it. Shutting his own optics in the process for recharge.

“Sleep well, sweetspark…I’ll be here when you awaken..”

[discowingneckline]

snippet of my arcane one-shot

working title: this truth drives me to madness

i'm exploring jinx's time in the "bunker" when she is imprisoned. it will feature a dual perspective between jinx and caitlyn as they (reluctantly) learn more fundamental truths about the other. this is not a ship fic. i just thought it'd be neat.

With a harsh shove, Jinx found herself stumbling as she entered her new home. Faintly, she could hear the jeers of enforcers, but they were drowned out by the sound of metal hitting metal and the twisting of keys that locked her in. Her eyes flickered from corner to corner, taking in her surroundings. It was a relatively spacious cell, and she found herself not really caring there wasn’t a bed or sink or toilet—those were reserved for people, and Jinx wasn’t a person but a monstrous thing. 

Knowing this fact, it was easy deciding where she wanted to hide away. One corner was absent of the lighting in the hall, as far from her guards as she could get, and perfectly fitting for a jinx. She found herself sitting down, facing one of the corner’s walls while leaning on the other, drawing her legs up and curling in on herself as her chest burned itself empty and her mind turned over the last few hours again and again and again. 

Helplessness was something Jinx had thought she’d gotten rid of within herself—working tirelessly to be the scary monster, the one who shouldn’t be tested because she would handle whichever sorry motherfucker that tried. Yet here she was once again, frozen where she stood with her eyes wide and mouth gaped.

In front of her was Caitlyn fucking Kiramman pressing down on Vi’s wound, trying to slow the bleeding while some dude who came out of absolutely nowhere was talking. Whatever he said was lost on Jinx as her eyes drifted up at the gaping hole in the ground and the dust that spun with the growing flames. Just a bit to the left and much closer to them is a helmet, and Jinx was screaming at her legs to move and collect it—the one piece of her baby left—but they refused. Distantly, someone called her name once, twice, and finally a third time as they yanked her arm.

Jinx looked down to Caitlyn who was yelling at her.

“—and your sister needs medical attention! Is there a doctor near here?” 

Vi looked so pained even while unconscious. The edges of her vision started blurring, and something wet was coating her cheeks. Her lips pulled back, and her eyebrows furrowed. How did she lose everyone in a split second? How did she—

“—JINX!” Caitlyn barked, commanding her attention away from Vi’s pitiful state. If Jinx didn’t know any better, she’d say Caitlyn looked scared, but that couldn’t be right. “A doctor. Is there one close by?”

It took her a second, maybe another too, before her question clicked. She shook her head and watched as Caitlyn’s eyes darted around. Another brief moment passed before Caitlyn opened her mouth again, “Jinx—Jinx, I need you to help me carry Vi. We need to get her to the Upper City. Can you do that?”

This time, Jinx found herself nodding, crouching down to help move her sister. They moved almost in sync, putting an arm under Vi’s to pull her up. 

“Okay,” Caitlyn muttered, eyes baring right into her own. “On the count of three, Jinx. One…two…three!”

It was almost laughable to Jinx—the whole fight, maybe even her whole life—how she somehow had gotten her entire family killed: her mom, her dad, Vander, Mylo and Claggor, Silco. Hell, she even got Benzo killed. If it wasn’t for her in the apartment, he wouldn’t have died. Another face popped into her head then, with dark skin and bright white hair, and Jinx’s blood went cold, closing her eyes as she tried shaking him from her thoughts.

The one that took his place was worse—far worse. Her brown hair splotched with blue dye, determined eyes baring into her soul, a finger-gun shooting at her. Jinx could feel her soul pouring out with her tears, a sense of longing that surpassed all else. Her baby was gone, turned to ash and scattered on dirt as though she was never there. She’d never feel her daughter’s warm skin against hers, never hold her world in her arms again. 

 It was all her fault, always had been. Her fault. Her fault. Her fault.

Cool handcuffs snapped close, digging through her gloves and itching her skin. Jinx didn’t really know what she expected to happen when she told Caitlyn she was done. Vi was getting treated by one of the best hospitals in Piltover, and without the urgency of getting Vi there, they both were at a loss.

A glance to her left revealed Caitlyn, now relieved of the duty of monitoring her, sat in one of the hospital chairs, leaning forward with her head in her hands. For all the shit she gave Vi about her sorta ex-girlfriend turned fascist dictator, Jinx couldn’t say Caitlyn didn’t care for Vi in her own fucked up way ‘cause, well, Jinx was the same. 

But Jinx’s love burned everyone. 

She shouldn’t be here. If she didn’t jinx her sister’s operation, she’d surely fuck something else up. Shit, her mere presence was already scaring off nurses and patients alike, who’d all scurried away from her. A small, deep part of her rejoiced in their fear, but it was smothered within the next second by the reminder of who wasn’t here to enjoy it with her. She wasn’t perfect like her dad said. If she was, he’d be alive; if she was, Isha would be too.

One of the enforcers by her shoved her forward, towards the entrance to the hospital, and maybe this was what she deserved. 

[bybloods]

HE FINDS HIMSELF SEARCHING HER FACE, inspecting it for signs of disappointment. the routine is familiar and yet distant, one that he hasn't engaged in since a time in which his mother was alive. so desperate was he as a boy to please all around him. so desperate was he as a man to please only himself. "i have little to say to strangers, perhaps," he admits, lowering his gaze and rolling his shoulder backwards as he lowers himself into the indicated chair. a dull ache pulses within it. "i was, once." cerion feels no need to lie to ryella. yet simultaneously, he feels no need to elaborate. his relationship with the seven had always been fitful at best and tumultuous at worst. his prayers had petered out long ago. the smile that alights cerion's expression is there only fleetingly. a glimpse of a bird as it darted from one tree to another, the flash of a knife before it became embedded in its target. a mundane sight, but perhaps one worth noting. "your very blood alone is of value, lady ryella. there is little need to speak of yourself dismissively." his own hypocrisy burns acrid on his tongue. when one measured themselves on a scale created by former ruling lord gerrick lannister — a scale so rigged as to keep you clawing, grasping, and lunging, animal-like, at every opportunity to measure up – their sense of value remained skewed. "besides. it is the noblest of uses — is it not?" he clears his throat, voice having fallen in volume since he'd sat down. his eyes watch hers as she examines his wound, the threat that she may look back diminished for the time being. he nods as she chides him, continuously and without much commitment. he does it to placate her, whether or not the attempt is successful. "i have had worse," comes his explanation for his nonchalance. the scars on his jaw prickle with feeling, despite being long healed. "no," he shakes his head, sitting up slightly in his heat — bracing for it. "i should feel the pain if only to remember it next time i think it wise to forgo mail under my plate."

At the rejection of prayers her lip will twitch, fighting back a smile. Ryella was religious, ever since she was a little girl she had known gods to be real, to be true. Only, over time she had grown to resent them, to be angry with them, to reject them. It seemed to her there was no love to be had from the mother, not the one who had birthed her, nor the one who had watched over her in divine wisdom. There was no protection to be had from the father, nothing to gain from any of the seven. Only pain, only suffering, and injustice, and indifference. Who could care for gods that allowed for such things? Who could truly reason their motives? Their actions, their inactions, their silence? "No prayer is truly wasted." she says anyway, entering the small room at the side where her guards remained by the open door. "Gods may not listen -- but I find speaking to them does ease the mind." she did not pray, but she did say prayers. They made her ponder on things that mattered, helped her lay out and sort through her own thoughts. -- Brows will rise as she reaches for the small cabinet, to take out the herbs and the bandages, and her eyes will peak over her shoulder as she asks, "Are you a religious man, my lord?" there is no true curiosity within her voice, but she did care to know. When his thanks born of manners and expectations find her, she will not take it any which way. 'Stead she points at the chair and gestures for him to sit down as she reaches for the water and a stack of clean cloths. "You need not thank me. It is an entirely selfish pursuit on my part..." a beat "-- helping others, that is." she sits down beside him, washing her hands over a bowl that now rested upon her lap. "It is the only time I am of any value." bowl aside, her eyes are on his, wondering where his own value had lied, and her voice remains calm, and quiet and stoic. Then, without a word, she will reach out to him and unwrap the bloodied bandage, before proceeding to examine what hid beneath. "You will be fine." she assures, preparing another cloth to wash over the skin surrounding the open wound. "But I must advise not to downplay you injury. You wish not bother, I understand, there are certainly those in more dire need." she squeezes the cloth over an empty pot, stained red water dripping from fabric between her fingers. "But you are injured." her gaze shifts to the herbs next, and the cleansing brew which stood beside them. "And you do need look after it." it mattered little to her, if he would heed her words. But men were stubborn, and they succumbed more often to an infection, than they did to lost limbs. "I will clean the opening now." she says leaning forward. "Would you like something for the pain?"

[cumironi]

‘ SSSHH, BEWARE OF THE FOOTSTEPS！

feat. gojo, geto, toji, sukuna, nanami, shiu

𖧷 sum. “ssshh, keep quiet,” they moan in your ear, breath burning your skin despite the cool air of the night. sēx outside can be very tricky, but. . . getting caught or not, it’s up to you: whether you can’t keep your moán to yourself or. . . not.

warning. outdoors/public space, exhibitionism, dōuble-penetration ( sukuna ), petnames, overstim, praises, name-calling, choke(s), under influence ( gojo, all consent ), dirty talk, spank(s).

＃ GOJO SATORU

your giggles grow louder rhythm along the way you bounce on gojo’s thick cock, the friction sending waves of pleasure through your body. the alcohol has loosened your inhibitions, allowing you to be more carefree and playful in your lovemaking. “baby...” you whimper, grinding down on him harder as you ride his lap. your wet cunt clings tightly to his shaft, the heat, and tightness driving him wild.

“you’re such a naughty girl, always begging for more of my cock,” gojo teases, his hands gripping your hips as he thrusts up into you. his blue eyes sparkle with mischief and arousal, drowsy from alcohol. “i think ’m going to have to punish you for being such a bad girl. you couldn’t even wait until we got home, huh?”

gojo grins at you, crocked, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you hard and fast, his massive cock stretching your cunt to its limits. “yeah, looks like i’ve got a little slut on my hands,” he says, his voice low and husky with desire. “a filthy girl who can’t control herself around me.”

he lifts your skirt higher, exposing more of your ass as he slaps it hard, the sound echoing through the quiet yard. “this is what happens when you’re a bad girl, sweetheart. you get punished.” gojo thrusts up into you again, his length hitting deep inside your womb. “and right now, i’m the judge, jury, and executioner.”

you laugh before a sharp cry escapes your lips the second gojo’s palm— big and cold— connects with your ass, the stinging sensation mingling with the intense pleasure from his relentless pounding. your cunt clenches around his thick cock, drawing him in deeper with each thrust.

“you are so silly,” you cringed between your giggles, bracing yourself against his chest as you continue to ride him wildly. the combination of the cool evening air, the warmth of his body beneath you, and the intoxicating liquor coursing through your veins has you lost in a haze of lust and euphoria.

“sshh, we should be quiet,” you whisper, again, giggling, your voice breathless and desperate between the laugh. nails dig into his shoulders as you grind down onto him, seeking that perfect angle to make you come undone. gojo chuckles darkly at your whispered plea, his grip on your hips tightening as he continues to fuck you mercilessly. “shh, yeah, keep quiet, baby,” he murmurs, his hot breath tickling your ear. “we don’t want anyone hearing how loud and dirty this little slut is getting fucked out here.”

his words send a tingling, flames of stars from your shoulder straight to your cunt, and you bite your lip to stifle another giggle. gojo’s cock is so deep inside you, stroking that sensitive spot within your core with every powerful thrust. you can feel his balls slapping against your cunt, adding to the overwhelming sensations crashing through your body.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” gojo groans, his face contorting in pleasure. “i can feel your cunt squeezing me like a vice. you love my big dick, don’t you?” your legs tremble as gojo’s thick cock stretches and fills you completely, the pleasure bordering on pain as he hits that sweet spot deep within your core over and over. you throw your head back, your long hair cascading down your back as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations.

“your mom and dad might see us,” you declare between the giggle instead of answering, warm breath fanning your boyfriend’s face the minute you lean closer. the mix of the rough grass beneath you, the cool night air, and gojo’s searing heat enveloping— a dangerous mix of cocktails of lust and pleasure that sends you spiraling out of your mind.

gojo smirks up at you, his piercing blue eyes gleaming with lust and mischief. “let ’em watch,” he says, his voice low and husky. “they already know i’m a perverted bastard. nothing new there. they know better than to disturb me when i’m fucking their daughter-in-law.” he grips your hips harder, pulling you down onto his cock as he drives upward, burying himself to the hilt inside your dripping pussy. “fuuuck, you feel amazing,” gojo groans, his forehead pressing against yours as he starts to lose himself in the pleasure. “i could cum inside you right now, fill this naughty girl up with my seed.”

his words send a jolt of excitement through you, and you begin to move faster, riding him with reckless abandon. the thought of gojo marking you, claiming you as his, pushes you closer to the edge. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the yard, punctuated by your high-pitched moans, giggle and gasps.

he leans in, capturing your mouth in a fierce kiss, his tongue plundering yours as he continues to pound into you relentlessly. gojo breaks the kiss, panting heavily, his blue eyes blazing with intensity. “you’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you, baby? i can feel your pussy twitching around my cock.”

# GETO SUGURU

gasps sharply as geto’s thick cock plunges deep inside you, your body jolting against the cold metal railing. you bite your lip hard, trying to stifle a moan at the intense sensation of being taken so roughly out here in the open air. “sh-shh...” you manage to whisper, your voice trembling slightly. “fuck— sugu’ be quiet,” just a second, you glare at your boyfriend over your shoulder.

fingers curling around the rusty, dirty balcony fence tighter, your knuckles turning white as he pounds into you relentlessly. the force of each thrust makes my breasts bounce and rub against the rough fabric of his shirt that you wear. you can feel every ridge and vein of his shaft stretching you wide, hitting all the right spots inside you.

“oh god— baby,” breathe out, your words barely audible over the sound of your heavy breathing and the creaking of the wooden floor beneath you. “hah! look who’s talking tough now,” geto chuckles lowly, his breath hot against your ear as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his hands grip your hips tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he uses them to pull you back onto his cock with each brutal thrust. he is not even bothering to keep his voice down as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. his mission is only one : make the stupid neighbors stop flirting with you.

“you’re the one making all those cute little noises,” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. “i bet they can hear you moaning all the way down the hall. ’m surprised they haven’t called the cops yet,” he teases, his breath hot against your ear as he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your neck as he growls, “and i’m going to keep doing this until you can’t take anymore.”

geto reaches around to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly through the fabric of the shirt. he pinches your nipple between his fingers, meannn, twisting it just enough to send a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to your cunt. the action earn a choked whimper escapes your throat at the cruel twist of your nipple, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. geto’s pace quickens, his hips snapping forward with increased urgency. the balcony’s fence creaks ominously under the force of your coupling, but he shows no signs of slowing down. “come on doll, scream for me,” he commands, his voice low and husky with desire. “let everyone know who’s fucking you senseless out here.”

your pussy clenches tightly around geto’s thick cock, milking him as he continues to ravage you with wild abandon. “ah-ahh! s-suguuuu’!” you cry out, unable to contain yourself any longer. the rough treatment of your sensitive nub, combined with the relentless pounding of his shaft, pushes you precariously close to the edge.

geto’s mocking words only fuel the fire within you, igniting a dark, primal desire that demands release. as he grips your hip harder, pulling you back onto him with bruising force, you surrender completely to the overwhelming sensations. “hhn! oh f-fuck, s-shouldd- quiet,” you wail, your voice rising to a desperate keen, whispering like a mantra to yourself.

geto grins wickedly, pleased by your desperate attempts to stifle your cries. however, he clearly has no intention of letting up anytime soon. “that’s right, let it out,” he encourages, his voice dripping with sadistic glee. “moan for me, doll. show everyone how much you love getting fucked raw by your boyfriend out in the open.”

he punctuates his words with another vicious thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you. the obscene squelch of skin meeting skin echoes loudly across the balcony, mingling with your ragged breaths and the creaking of the railing beneath you. geto leans in close, his lips hovering mere inches from your ear as he whispers, “come on, i know you can be louder than that,” his breath burning, spit all the pleasure with his dirty talk. “show me how much you love getting fucked in public. let everyone know who’s making you cum so hard.”

you can tell geto was loving seeing you struggle to hold back your moans. he continued to push deeper and faster into your wet heat, stretching your walls around his thickness with every powerful stroke. his grip on your hips tightened, fingers digging into your skin as he used your body for his own pleasure— and his punching-jealosy bag. you could feel the veins in his cock pulsing against your inner walls, throbbing with need.

a strangled sob tears from your throat as geto’s words wash over you, each syllable a sharp blade cutting through your last vestiges of restraint. the shameless, public nature of your tryst, coupled with the unrelenting assault on your senses, finally shatters the fragile barrier holding back your climax.

“fuck, fuck, fuuuck,” you shriek, your voice a raw, guttural cry that seems to reverberate off the very walls of the building. your body convulses violently, back arching as wave after wave of intense pleasure crashes over you. your pussy clamps down around geto’s pistoning cock like a vice, rhythmically milking him as you ride out the aftershocks of your orgasm. the sheer intensity of your release leaves you gasping and twitching, utterly spent.

# TOJI FUSHIGURO

breathless moans escape your lips as toji pounds into you relentlessly, the bamboo walls creaking with each powerful thrust. the sound of waves crashing outside mingles with your ragged panting, creating an erotic symphony.

“mm— baby. .” you gasp, your hands bracing against the rough bamboo as he grips your hips, pulling you back onto his thick cock each time while you, uncontrollably desperate to keep your mouth shut from spreading the moan and sin to everyone around— there are children around for fuck sake. the cool ocean breeze wafts through the open ceiling of the structure, sending shivers down your spine even as your body burns with desire. your clit throbs in time with toji’s sleepless strokes.

“shhh... i gotchu, ma,” toji whispers huskily in your ear, feeling your body tremble beneath him. he tightens his grip on your hips, fucking you harder, faster, driven by lust and the thrill of getting caught. the thought of someone discovering them sends a dark thrill through him. leaning over your shoulder, he nips at your neck, sucking hard enough to leave marks making a sharp cry tears from your throat as toji bites down on your neck, his teeth sinking deep enough to draw blood. his free hand snakes around to rub your clit in firm circles, pushing you closer to the land of climax and pleasure just for a second. “gonna fill this tight pussy up, ma,” he growls, his voice low and rough with arousal.

the pain only heightens your pleasure, making your inner walls clench greedily around his pistoning cock. the bamboo structure creaks ominously under your frenzied coupling, but toji doesn’t care. all that matters is claiming you right here, right now, consequences be damned. you whimper, your head thrown back against his chest as he assaults your sensitive flesh with his fingers and mouth. the knowledge that you are so close to being discovered only fuels the fire raging within you.

your hips buck wildly, meeting each of toji’s powerful thrusts as he drives into you with primal intensity. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the small, tiny, wee space, mingling with your ragged breathing and toji’s guttural grunts. toji’s arms snake around your slippery skin for the nth time, to press firmly against your belly, encouraging you to arch into him, to meet his thrusts head-on— bend your stomach deeper into the bulge of his thick cock that peeks at your abandonment.

“fuck yeah— come on ma, i know you can do it,” toji snarls, pounding into you with reckless abandon. he can feel your body starting to tighten around him, and it spurs him on. he wants to push you over the edge, make you scream his name for all to hear. fingers dancing lower, he roughly pinches your clit, rubbing it between his fingers in harsh, rapid circles. at the same time, he leans in close, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he whispers filthy promises. “gonna cum so deep inside you, mark you as mine. everyone will know who you belong to.”

# RYOMEN SUKUNA

whimpers softly, overwhelmed by the intense sensation of being filled so completely by sukuna’s enormous cocks. tears continue to stream down your cheeks— struggle to even do as much as catch your breath, each thrust sending waves of pleasure-pain crashing through you.

# NANAMI KENTO

panting heavily, i manage a weak, “my lord. .” your voice is barely audible over the sound of skin slapping against skin and sukuna’s lewd grunts of satisfaction. his twice or three times bigger mouth on his stomach lick the small of your back— it smirks, your cunt can feel it.

sukuna chuckles darkly at your feeble attempt to address him properly, his four arms gripping you tighter as he pounds into you relentlessly. the tongue on his stomach licks up your spine, leaving a trail of saliva that tingles on your sensitive skin. his upper pair of hands reach around to grasp your breasts, squeezing and kneading them roughly as he fucks you harder. the third hand slides down to rub your clit, making sure to hit that sweet spot with every stroke.

“foolish mortal,” he sneers, his voice low and menacing. “you should be grateful i deign to use you for my pleasure. your pitiful cries only spur me on.” one of his hands slides around to fondle your breast roughly, pinching and twisting your nipple between his fingers. his other hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, forcing your body to respond despite your mind’s protests.

cries out sharply as sukuna tweaks your nipple, the sudden jolt of pain mixing with the overwhelming pleasure from his cocks and touch. “ah! m-my lord, please...” your hips buck involuntarily, meeting his thrusts as his skilled hands work to push you closer to the edge. “this is— too much, i-i can’t...”

trembling, you clench around the thick cocks stretching your inner walls, desperate for some respite but knowing it won’t come anytime soon. “just- just give me a moment, i need...” your eyes hooded, half-heartedly open and find the open garden surrounded you, few of his servants passed by— yet, despite them didn’t have enough the courage to look directly, the voice of skin roughly kiss, your desperate-slutty moan, and sukuna’s rough grumble was obvious.

sobbing quietly, you try to gather your fragmented thoughts, dreading what further degradation or humiliation sukuna might inflict upon you once he’s finished using your body for his twisted amusement. sukuna laughs cruelly at your pleas, his tone dripping with sadistic glee. “a moment? how quaint. you think you have control over this?”

instead, he speeds up his pace, the wet sounds of his cocks pistoning in and out of you growing louder. the tongue on his stomach slithers up to your ear, licking the shell before whispering, “i think you need to learn your place, silly mortal. and if begging for mercy is what it takes...”

his fourth arm moves to wrap around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. “perhaps a little choking will help you focus on the present. now, beg properly. beg me to let you cum, to grant you this fleeting pleasure.”

the hand on your clit intensifies its ministrations, rubbing circles that send sparks of ecstasy shooting through your nerves. with that, he redoubles his efforts, slamming his cocks deep inside you with brutal force. the sounds of flesh meeting flesh echo through the garden, mingling with your choked sobs and the occasional gasp from passing servants who can’t help but steal glances at the depraved scene.

the servant who dared to glance your way quickly looks away, not wanting to meet sukuna’s wrathful gaze. they all know better than to disturb their master when he’s indulging in such carnal pleasures. sukuna tightens his grip around your throat slightly, his smirk growing wider as he watches the effect it has on you. he leans in close, his hot breath washing over your ear as he whispers, “look at them, pet. can you see how they’re staring? envious of the privilege i’m granting you, of the pleasure you get to experience at my hands.”

his fingers dig into your neck, applying just enough pressure to make your vision blur at the edges. “they wish they could be in your position right now, don’t they? wishing they could feel my cocks inside them, wishing they could hear their own desperate moans echoing through the garden.”

your vision starts to blur from lack of oxygen as sukuna tightens his grip around your throat. panic sets in as you claw at his wrist, desperate for air. he chuckles darkly, amused by your struggles. just as you're about to pass out, sukuna releases his hold, allowing you to gulp in a ragged breath. he watches with perverse fascination as you tremble and wheeze, your body still wracked by the aftershocks of his relentless pounding.

sukuna’s hand on your clit becomes a blur of motion, rubbing and pinching in a relentless rhythm designed to drive you to the brink of insanity.

he wraps an arm around your waist, holding you close as he rocks into you slowly. his voice is low and husky, filled with desire even as he tries to keep things discreet. with his other hand, he gently cup your cheek, tilting your face up towards him, thumb brushing across your lips as he tries to silence your pleasured moans. “shh, my love... i know it feels amazing, but we need to be quiet so no one knows what we’re doing here.”

his brown eyes filled with adoration and lust, blend like a mix of cocktails under the dim blue and purple bar lights. “i want to hear you, but not like this. let me take care of you when we get home, okay? right now, just relax for me...” he punctuates his words with a deep, slow thrust, making you gasp despite yourself. his deep voice is a soothing whisper against your ear as he rocks his hips. one after another while keeping his hard length buried within your cunt. “just focus on how good i make you feel, okay? let me take care of everything.”

your body shudders at the intensity of his words, his touch igniting sparks that race through your veins. you nod frantically, unable to form coherent responses over the crescendo of pleasure building inside you. instead, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, nuzzling into his warmth as you cling to him desperately.

your hips buck involuntarily, seeking more friction, more pressure against your sensitive clit. you can’t help the whimpers that escape, muffled against his skin, as he continues to stroke that perfect spot deep within you. each deliberate thrust sends waves of ecstasy crashing over you, threatening to consume you whole and drowning you all the way.

desperate to stifle the sounds of your desperation, you press your mouth to his throat, sucking gently on the pulse point there. the subtle pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure. the sound of music and everyone push painfully far away to the back of your head, and everything becomes grey with how much the sounds of nanami’s breathing kissing your ear. all warm, soft and just him. “baby..”

he inhales sharply as you suck on his throat, the sudden rush of sensation sending a jolt straight to his aching cock. his grip on you tightens reflexively, fingers digging into your hip bones as he struggles to maintain control. the urge to claim you harder, faster, more forcefully is almost overwhelming, but he resists, determined to please you rather than succumb to base instinct.

with a herculean effort, he steadies his movements, focusing on long, slow strokes designed to stretch and fill you without jarring you against the seat or drawing unwanted attention. he lets out a low groan, the sound vibrating against your ear as he fights to hold back his own climax. “my love... the love of my life,” he breathes, the endearment barely audible over the thumping bass.

overwhelmed by the intense sensations coursing through every fiber of your being, you can only whimper and tremble in nanami’s arms. the steady rhythm of his thrusts, the heat of his body enveloping yours, the sweet ache of his fingers digging into your flesh— it all blends together into an exquisite symphony of pleasure.

it was painfully slow, but when he was sensing your impending release, nanami’s hands begin to roam your body, tracing the curves of your waist, the swell of your breasts, before coming to rest on your thighs. he spreads them wider, angling his hips to hit that magical spot inside you with precision. the added pressure sends you spiraling toward the edge, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his thick length.

nanami’s eyes darken with lust as he watches you lose yourself in pleasure, your body tensing and trembling in his grasp. he leans in, capturing your lips in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing the desperate little noises you make. his tongue dances with yours, matching the rhythm of the loud music, alsooo, mirroring the rhythm of his hips as he continues to stroke into you, hitting that sweet spot again and again.

# SHIU KONG

he breaks the kiss to trail his lips down the column of your throat, nibbling and sucking marks into your tender skin. “so beautiful,” he murmurs against your flesh, his voice heavy with desire. “i could look at you forever.” his hands slide higher, cupping your breasts through the fabric of your top. he thumbs your nipples, coaxing them to hardness as he teases and plucks at the sensitive buds.

breathless, eyes wide with excitement and guilt as you look around at your secluded spot amidst the bamboo forest. gasp as another wave of pleasure crashes over you from your thick cock stretching your velvet walls. eyes flustered closed while your fingers curled up, wrapping the fabric of his suit around.

“fuck, it feels so good...“ you start moving faster on top of him, riding him harder as the thrill of getting caught only heightens your arousal. you lean down to capture his lips in a passionate kiss, moaning into his mouth as you continue to bounce on his lap, your breasts jiggling with each thrust. “we’re being so naughty out here in the open... what if someone walks by and catches us in the act?” you asked, tone nonchalant so the heartbeat once you pull away.

a low groan escapes shiu’s throat, feels your tight heat gripping his cock tighter with each hard ride. his hands grip your hips, guiding you to fuck yourself on him even deeper— panting heavily, he looks up at you with lust-filled eyes.

“let ’em,” he rasps, his voice husky with desire. “i want everyone to see how badly i’m fucking you right now.” shiu’s fingers dig into your flesh, pulling you down to slam your cunt onto his shaft again and again. the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes through the quiet woods, mixing with your high-pitched moans and his deep growls.

“you’re so goddamn sexy like this,” he whispers, his hot breath fanning across your ear. “riding my dick in public, not giving a damn who sees...” your body trembles as shiu’s words, intensifying the burning need within you. you throw your head back, lost in the ecstasy of being taken so roughly, so publicly. each harsh thrust makes you cry out, your voice carrying through the stillness of the bamboo grove.

“sooo dirty,” you tease between giggling, grinding your clit against him as you impale yourself on his thick cock. your hands slide up your sides to cup your breasts, squeezing and tugging at your nipples as you continue to ride shiu with wild abandon. leaning down, you capture his lips once more, kissing him deeply as you move, your tongues tangling in a heated dance.

shiu meets your fervent kisses with equal passion, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as he devours you whole. his large hands roam your curves, squeezing and kneading your supple flesh as he drinks in every moan and whimper that spills from your lips. few seconds and he breaking the kiss to trails his mouth along your jawline, nipping and sucking at your sensitive skin. “mmm, such a naughty girl,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with approval. “wants to get caught, huh? wants everyone to know you’re mine.”

shiu’s fingers find their way beneath the hem of your shirt, skimming up your stomach to pinch and roll your hardened nipples. he watches intently as you writhe above him, your breasts bouncing with each frenzied movement. one hand leaves your hip to palm your breast, thumbing your nipple through the fabric of your shirt before slipping beneath to tease the hardened bud directly. you let out a sharp gasp as shiu’s skilled fingers play with your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your core.

“mmm, feel that, doll?” he murmurs against your lips, his voice thick with lust. “your tits are so sensitive, i bet they’d be perfect for my mouth.” the sensation of his warm breath on your skin and his filthy words make you ache for more. “please!” you beg, arching your back to push your chest further into his touch.

with a wicked grin, shiu pulls your shirt up and off, revealing your heaving breasts to the cool air and his hungry gaze. he wastes no time, taking one pert nipple into his mouth and suckling greedily, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

you moan loudly, head thrown back in bliss as he lavishes attention on your other breast, pinching and rolling the neglected nipple between his fingers. shiu releases your nipple with a wet pop, leaving it glistening and swollen. he gazes up at you with dark, lustful eyes, his own chest heaving with exertion.

“that’s it, baby,” he coaxes, his voice rough with desire. “make some noise for me. let everyone know how much you love having my cock buried deep inside you.” he punctuates his words with a particularly forceful thrust, making you cry out in pleasure. shiu grins, pleased with himself.

leaning forward, he takes your other nipple into his mouth, suckling and nibbling until you’re squirming and mewling above him. his free hand slides down your side, tracing the curve of your hip before dipping lower to rub at your clit in slow, deliberate circles.

“you’re so close, aren’t you?”

[moonymirah]

the only thing you’d willingly let slap across your face is his cock.

after he’s done ramming his length down your throat, he gives you a second to catch your breath, watching his drenched dick glisten with your saliva. your face is so fucked out and the only thing he can do is chuckle and admire how your mouth is still wide open; tongue poking out as you pant for his cock.

“such a pretty slut for me.”

his smirk is heard through his words as he strokes himself with one hand while the other grips at your hair to force your head under his dick.

still holding his length, he swipes his balls across your mouth, tongue immediately latching around them and lips puckering up while he drops them further into your gob.

he can’t help clenching his thighs when he feels you suck around him, loud groans erupting from his chest.

“fuuuuck yes… juuust like that.”

his sounds and curses are like words of encouragement to you so you carry on as best as you can — even though you feel entirely brain fucked — to please him with all your might.

the dirty, wet noises that are made only make his ears perk further before he feels his core tighten and dick throb.

your eyes are screwed shut as he shoves his balls in your mouth as far as he can; stretching the corners of your lips and causing them to pain.

when he feels the rush within him grow, he’s quick to empty your gob and leave you gasping for air while he quickly jacks himself off over your face.

“want your cum !” he can only bite his lip and grin at how desperate you still are despite just being full to the brim with his dick.

his jaw drops at the sight of your droopy eyes and laid out tongue before pointing his tip at it and releasing all his cum. you’re sure not to waste a single drop, swallowing all that entered your mouth as he becomes a grunting mess.

“what a good girl.”

he thrusts himself into you one last time, lips wrapping around his length before pulling out with a pop.

the beam on your face has his cock twitch, hand moving to tap his tip against your cheek a couple times, smile only widening.

[moechies]

riding toji ; what a pain ! 。・゜・(ノД`)・゜・。

finger in butt :o , riding , faux dubcon , anal mention

ever since he asked you to get on top, he was whipped. he doesn’t think there’s anything better than this, pretty tits bouncing up in his face, your twitching cunny fervently around his cock, and your desperate grapples at his arm for help. oh, this is perfect; this is what life is all about.

he especially loves when you give up, your soft body plaint against his bulky, hot one as you hide your flushed face in the cove of his shoulder. you feel his hard stomach under yours, abs and pecs pressing into your skin.

he can’t help but scale his fingers down your figure in your moment of rest, admiring each and every cell that forms your gorgeous shape, gentle fingers pinching the skin of your waist.

he sets his eyes on the mound of your butt, his trailing finger slowly crawling against a forbidden region; your butthole.

you’re dazed and fucked out of your mind, yearning for nothing more but to fall asleep with a click, but the heavy cock that lays within your gummy walls prevents you from doing so. while you’re distracted, you feel a singular ragged finger drag its way along the crevice of your mound, pressing against the puckered, virgin hole above your tainted cunny;

“n—no ! not there toji…” you whine, shaking your head against his shoulder. it’s hard for you to scramble away despite your tried efforts, his lodged cock keeping you still.

you know he would take you however he desired to, despite your little begs of no. nothing you say matters when you’re laying against him without a single ounce of strength remaining in your body, solely waiting for the man to get impatient and end up fucking you to sleep.

his thick finger relentlessly presses into the resisting hole, making you cry out. your nails dig into the sweat-gleaming muscle of the man, causing him to let out a light hiss.

“damn tight, little girl .” he chuckles, bucking his hips up into your cunt, readjusting your position on top. you squeal, pounding your fist against his chest with a complaining mewl. he’s so abrupt. he continues your efforts, a hand laid against your back to keep you pliant against him as he rocks his hips gently against your warmth. a thick finger prodding itself in and out of your butthole, and it’s all too much.

“noooo—“ you cry, humping your ass back into his palm. “hnnn… h—hurts back there.” he laughs at the irony of it all; he knows you’re feeling good, what can he say ? he knows how to make you feel great. he knows it’s all a ploy in able to get him to praise you, praise you for being such a good girl, for taking everything he’s giving you, and it works.

“shh, my sweet girl. takin’ m’finger so well. good, good girl .”

you let out a wanton moan, a mixture of pain and pleasure, just as the chubby tip of his cock pressed against your cervix. his finger pumps a tad faster, a tad deeper and it fills you so wrongfully well.

“y’gonna take my cock in here next time, hm? that’s what the best girls do.”

[yawnderu]

Ex-husband Simon never truly goes away. 

Simon’s stomach twisted into a knot as he heard your muffled sobs, your warm tears seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt, holding onto him for dear life even if he’s the one responsible for your pain. 

“I hate you, Simon.” Empty words that still send an unfamiliar ache to his chest, his soul hurting for you. 

“I know, baby, I know.” He managed to croak out, his voice hoarse. The sight of the gold wedding band on his finger stabbed at something deep within him, reigniting the flicker of emotions he always tried to push aside for an amicable divorce. 

Ten years down the drain, your whole life reduced to nothing but ink and paper. Simon’s duty to the SAS and the 141 took up so much of his time, often only managing to be home for a few months out of the year. Missed holidays and celebrations, broken promises of trying to be more present. As understanding as you tried to be, everyone reaches their breaking point. 

“Give me some time, love. I’ll retire. Y’can get anythin’.” Perhaps it is selfish to ask you to wait, yet how is a broken man expected to give up on the only beacon of light he has amidst all the darkness and shadows? His highschool sweetheart, his beloved wife. 

“How long?” Your whispered question hit Simon like a blow to the gut, so much trust and fear held in only two simple words. He closed his eyes for a moment, his hands tightening around your waist as you still straddle him, nearly cuddling him up even if all you could do was cry. 

“After we scatter Johnny’s ashes. S’ gonna be a quick trip to Scotland, and then I’m all yours.” He paused for a moment, his rough fingers tracing over the band on his ring finger, his touch always gentle in your presence. Despite the ring being a constant reminder of your love and broken promises, it was always safely tucked under the thick material of his gloves. Simon’s way of keeping you with him, of having something that made him cling to his sanity no matter how much bloodshed those same hands spill. 

“Half a month.” He’s more explicit this time, his warm hand running up and down the length of your back, not daring to go lower despite how much his entire soul craves you. It’s a tender moment that gives him an inner sanctity, and he’s not looking into ruining it. 

His eyes flutter shut as your delicate arms encircle his shoulders, hugging his body closer to yours, the smell of tobacco invading your nose. Despite it all, you’re placing all your trust in Simon one last time.

[malewifesband]

EDIT: if this post has made you think about whether or not you are autistic, im really glad! i hope you get some better understanding of yourself and are able to find community and support

however before you go and tell a therapist and seek an official diagnosis please read this thread and consider the points made therein:

autism is highly stigmatized. be fully informed about what you gain and what you lose from having an official diagnosis before seeking one.

EDIT OVER ENJOY THE POST

people do correctly identify that laios is autistic fairly often but a lot of the reasoning begins and ends with his special interest and social difficulties, but honestly it goes far deeper into the build of his character than just those two things

his pain tolerance is wildly inconsistent, unable to tolerate a drop of hot oil (or any heat) but able to shrug off both his leg being bitten off and it being reattached

hes sensory seeking in the extreme. he rubs the bat bones against his face, pets and fluffs the shapeshifter tail.

his desire to eat monsters comes from three very autistic places. 1) the rules for why monsters are not okay to eat but animals are are arbitrary to him so he cannot follow them easily: he cannot understand the 'feelings' argument others make. 2) this too is a sensory seeking behavior. he wants to experience these new things, new flavors and new textures. 3) it completes his knowledge of the monster in question to also have data on its edibility. because he cannot draw that arbitrary line around all monsters, he wants to evaluate them case-by-case and see if real patterns emerge. butchering and eating the monsters improves his knowledge of them greatly and highlights their importance in their ecosystem, as well as making him a part of that same ecosystem

he cannot emote the way others expect him to. he compartmentalizes his feelings (to an unhealthy degree) because he needs a pragmatic solution. so as long as there is a problem to solve, that matters far more than evaluating his emotions and allowing himself to experience them. while this is also a coping mechanism for ptsd, it is a trait found in many autistic people regardless of trauma, as we have trouble sorting the feelings we have and often need time to think about what we feel, so it becomes easier to simply not do it and pretend we dont need to. laios emotions certainly affect him, with or without his processing them, but others do not see what they expect to see and thus dismiss that he is feeling what they would feel

he is incredibly gifted with pattern recognition, observation, and analysis within realms he understands. to understand subjects that dont come easily to him, he must filter them through his established schema (his special interest--this is why they are so special! they help us sort the world). when he isnt sure about the social cues and details hes observed in the shapeshifter arc, he filters it through the lens he understands best: monsters. he was making correct observations about his friends all along, but he could not be confident in that the way he was about their behavior when it came to his interest (chilchucks caution, senshis passions, and marcilles carelessness)

[shotmrmiller]

size difference where the one afraid to fuck you is simon. he thinks you soft. which is what you are. soft. fragile. small.

you're not like him. nothing like the guys. battle-scarred. muscles carved by relentless missions, scars that speak of duty.

your skin divots under his fingers, yielding to his weathered touch and if he squeezes hard enough, you'll have marks by morning. (he needs to be careful, he can't hurt you, won't—)

and so simon watches you touch yourself in the beginning, clever fingers swirling over your slippery clit with practiced movements even though his cock is straining against his trousers painfully. he can hear you mewl his name through bitten lips and it takes all of his self control to not tug his jeans off, slot himself between your spread, inviting thighs and push— stretch open your fluttering walls, so hot and slick, until he meets resistance, until he can push no more but—

he can't. you'd hurt. and he'd hurt because he hurt you. he won't.

after, when your eyes are heavy lidded, mouth slightly parted in exertion, you remind him that you aren't made of glass. that you won't break. you'll shatter— in the way you do when his tongue replaces your fingers— but not break.

"not a virgin either, for christ's sake," you groan.

maybe he's thinking too hard about it. he knows your teeth have edges, knows your bite is swift when deserved. but all he's truly good at is making things give. biology made it so with his bulky frame and raw mass.

his eyes trace the contour of your collarbone. delicate. then it darts to the pulse on your wrist. vital. his hands, the size of dinner plates don't coax. they demand. he'd snap you like a twig, leaving nothing but splintered remains in his wake.

you don't seem to mind, however. it slightly alarms him. where's your self-preservation? do you enjoy pain? is this some masochistic thing?

he looks at you, all glassy eyed and dewy skinned (ethereal; you're practically glowing under the soft light of the full moon that paints the room silver) and he thinks of how it's going to take work to make it work. his cock is large (he's seen the guys' eyes pop out of their heads in the showers once they caught a glimpse of what's between his legs) but you're persistent in the end. one too many nights of having him without having him.

he understands. simon knows better than most what it's like to yearn. to want and not have. he'd cause you pain by not giving in, and cause pain by giving in. damned if he does, damned if he doesn't.

so he caves. promises to go slow. careful.

"i can take it," you bravely say but he's barely pressing himself to your entrance and you're already making noises that tug at his pathetic little heart. the way your teeth sink into your bottom lip-- you look so pretty, how'd a twisted creature like him get someone like you to come home to-- as his cock fills you has him feeling lightheaded. it takes every ounce of self control to not sink into your heat, to hook your legs around his thick waist and let gravity do the rest.

an unsteady hand weaves its way down to your stuffed cunt, fingers splitting into a vee, feeling how he splits your puffy lips, and the view makes him buck his hips involuntarily.

his hands tighten around your calves when you keen, a high pitched noise that swells the lust he feels burning white hot at the base of his spine, tips of his fingers, deep within his loins. he feels ready to burst.

and he's only halfway in.

your voice cuts through the ringing in his ears. "m-more, simon, c'mon," the n is low and drawn out.

his fingers bite into your flesh as he pushes slow, oh so slowly, until your vise-like cunt envelops him completely. the sibilant hiss you let out makes his hair stand on end. (shame pricks at his nerves like a thousand tiny needles when his cock twitches at the sound of your slightly pained moans)

simon doesn't move, feeling your swollen walls around his cock ripple, tighten and slacken, like it's got a pulse of its own. he could be here, in you, cock deep in paradise for the rest of time.

"fuck me," you warble out, hand rubbing your swollen clit to well up the pleasure that's being smothered by the searing pang of discomfort.

when simon cants his hips back, he watches his cock come out of you, glistening with slick. his jaw aches from how hard he's clenching it. control. got to keep it slow, gentle. slow, simon, slow, slow--

"harder."

he feels the sudden sharp sting of your nails and jerks forward in surprise, filling you completely in one fast movement.

your moan this time is needy, thick with want, arousal dripping from your voice as it does your pussy, coating him in creamy white, a frothy ring at the root.

simon can see the barest of bumps below your navel, or maybe he's seeing things, your hot cunt putting him in a state of delirium but the way you take all of his cock and continue to beg for more, beg him to fuck you like he means it even though he's twice if not thrice your size well...

you'll just have to forgive him on the finger-shaped bruises they're going to be on your body after.

(you'd looked so cheeky before he flipped you onto your knees, grabbing onto your delicate neck like a lifeline as he pulled your hips to meet his. you'd taken him easier here, cunt sodden with slick but the angle had him reaching a devastating depth no one else could ever dream of reaching and even though it'd sprung tears to the corners of your eyes at the pinch, "mama ain't raise no bitch.")

[jinxthekitty]

Just the tip

You and Heeseung have been dating for 3 years now, the only thing different between the two is sexual experience. Heeseung was older by 5 years with lots of 'bodies' he said and of course you are a virgin. He didn't mind and always told you he's fine with waiting until you're ready, which tonight you were.

With your legs on his shoulders as his thick tip slowly entered your wet cunt, whimpers leaving your lip as Heeseung held onto your hip. "Shit, love. It's just the tip baby, come on I know you can take it~" Shaking your head as you squirm under him with tears running down your cheeks. "It hurts, Heeseung.."

Feeling your body tense up and seeing those tears, Heeseung pulls back, his hard cock slipping out your virgin hole. His emotions quickly changed from desire to concern, taking your legs off his shoulders and leaned down to wipe your tear before covering your face in kisses. "Aww baby, I'm sorry..guess I got caught up"

He shifted next to you and caresses your soft skin "Caught up with your monster cock" He chuckled at your remark. "..can you do that thing you did yesterday" His eyes lit up as you mentioned yesterday actives, he quickly nodded his head. Sliding his hand down your body to your wet folds, slowly rubbing your cilt.

Heeseung's eyes darken with lust as he sees your expressions, his cock throbbing against you. His fingers dance over your clit, circling and flicking the sensitive bud before moving lower, sinking into your wet heat. He thrusts two long fingers inside you, crooking them to stroke that spot within that makes you tremble and moan. His thumb finds your clit, rubbing it in time with his pumping fingers. "That's it, Love... let me hear you... Are you ready for me?"

Eagerly nodding you head, he pulls his fingers out, causing you to whine. Taking this time to lick your juices off his fingers before positioning himself in between your legs, spreading then apart. He let out a soft groan rubbing his engorged tip against your slick folds with a swift, steady motion, he slowly pushes his thick cock into your virgin wet hole.

His hips pressing firmly as he fill you to a halt, he pause to let you adjust to his size and leans down to kiss you. Distracting you from the pain and gripping your hips as he slowly thrusts, setting a slow and deep pace for you. As your whimpers and whines softly start to fade, turning into pleasurable moans.

He takes that as a sign to fasten his pace and pulls away from the kiss and places his hand on your cheek, caressing it softly. "I told you it would feel good love~" you rolled your eyes before somehow managing to say "Shut up".

Heeseung took that as attitude and had the bright idea to deepen his thrust, making you moan louder and him chuckle. The sounds of his skin hitting yours filled the room, his tip repeatedly hitting all the right spot and making you arch your back.

Clenching your velvet walls around him, causing him to groan. "Is my baby close to cumming?" He smiles as he watches you nod your head, tightening his grip on your hips, using this leverage to drill his cock deepen inside you with powerful thrusts.

Heeseung watches as your breasts bounce from his thrust, your nails crawling on his skin. The feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock and your nails digging into him felt amazing, he wraps his hand around your throat and captures your lips once moan.

Swallowing your moans as his tongue dances with yours. His hand slides down your hip to your clit rubbing it harshly and breaks away from the kiss, looking down at you as he whispers in your ear. "Come on baby, make a mess. I know you want to~"

The pleasure from him was truly incredible, making you cum all over him. Covering his cock in your juices, Heeseung let's out a primal growl and slams his cock into you one last time before cumming deep inside your cervix. He continues to gently thrust, riding out his orgasm, his hips jerk and twitch as he marks from inside. Making sure none of his cum spills, before slowly pulling his softening cock out. "Did I make you feel good, love~ he chuckles as you roll your eyes "You're so cocky"

[hcneymooners]

⋆ arcane headcanons but they're all vampires.

multi. vampire!f!characters x f!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: what it says on the tin, baby doll.

cw: vampire-related violence, mentions of gore (nothing graphic), mentions of blood-drinking (duh), dom/sub, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, masturbation, cunnilingus, power dynamics, power play, impact play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, semi-public sex on occasion, unhealthy relationships (in the sense of vampires + their fledglings! no abuse i swear), manipulation, gothic themes, mutual obsession, age difference, older woman/younger woman, morally gray characters.

notes: this includes jinx, caitlyn, ambessa, sevika, + vi. i just watched nosferatu and it’s now one of my absolute favorite movies. i loved it and so now i must invoke the spirit of the vampire into every fictional woman i’m desperately in love with.

this is also fully for @digit4lslut who wanted more evil women. i concur.

The winter is long and arduous and you find yourself hungering for something dark and warm. The world has always seemed to press against you, take from you, eat at you. You’re in bed now, and the spot next to you is plush and warm from your lover’s recent departure. Your neck stings and you press a hand to it, pull it away to find a gleaming sweet mixture of venom and blood. Beyond your hand the door opens and with a few more steps the curtain shielding from around the bed are pulled back. 

This is your lover's return. You look at her, smile softly as she crawls over you and hovers with a blood-wet mouth. Her chest rises, body fevered and aching after a hunt. She places a hand on your stomach, pushes down until you gasp and clutch at her. Yes, this is your forever. You cup her face, turn her toward the light. 

You see her. You see your history. Who is she? What is your history? What is her name?

jinx.

♱ you both were small when you first met. you had a tendency to sneak out into the gardens, tuck yourself under the thicket of white hydrangeas and stare out into the water. one day, the darkness shifted and she was staring back.

♱ she was all wild hair and wilder eyes, skin pale as moonlight. her hair was crystal, ocean blue. you weren't scared—maybe you should have been. instead, you reached out your hand and she took it, fingers cold against yours. 

♱ you let her trace your palm, intertwine your fingers. something began to hum deep and low in your body and her eyes went pink, bright and starlike. she smelled so overwhelmingly of rose and plum, almost sickly sweet. you breathed in deeply, from your stomach up through your chest—like you were swimming.

♱ that was the beginning.

♱ for years, she was your shadow companion. you'd meet in the garden at midnight, sharing secrets and stolen sweets. You’d tuck a cake under the flat of her tongue and she’d hold it, smile close-lipped while it turned to ash. she'd braid flowers into your hair while telling you stories about magic and monsters to distract you while she spit it out.

♱ then one spring, she vanished. you woke to nothing but a puncture wound on the flesh of your palm, the holes almost tender with their dried blood and lack of pain. you didn’t know it then, but she’d spread her saliva, her venom over it to spare you from any pain.

♱ the hydrangeas bloomed without her, and you learned what it meant to mourn someone who left no trace behind. you grew into yourself slowly, carefully, always feeling half-formed without her there.

♱ when you saw her again, you were twenty-three and she was everything you'd dreamed of in the dark. she stood in her cousin's drawing room, all sharp edges and sharper smile. "this is jinx," they said, "she's been abroad." you knew better—the girl from your garden had never left, she'd just become something else entirely. maybe she always had been.

♱ her cousin, viktor, spoke of marriage within weeks. you agreed, but your eyes were always on her. you caught her watching you too, gaze heavy with something that made your blood sing. this was what you'd been waiting for, you realized. this hunger. this need.

♱ you couldn’t be alone with her. you recognized your lack of will, your deference almost immediately and set about avoiding her when you could. you only realized she allowed it, was indulging your fancy, when she cinched your waist with an arm just outside of the dining room and pressed her thumb into your chin until your jaw hinged wide enough for her to see the tissue of your cheek.

♱ “enough of this,” she told you, and then closed your mouth. she leaned forward, flooding your mind with her saccharine perfume as she held your head inbetween her spindly fingers and pressed a kiss to your forehead. 

♱ she took to painting you. at first, it was formal portraits, the kind viktor commissioned. but soon the paintings changed—you in the garden, surrounded by hydrangeas, then by roses. you sleeping, hair spilled across silk pillows. you with bitten lips and eyes that held secrets. 

♱ you never told anyone how you'd pose for her in the dead of night, how your skin would flush under her gaze.

♱ "you're my best work," she'd whisper, fingers trailing over fresh canvas. "my masterpiece." her studio became your sanctuary, far from viktor's polite affections and careful touches. she never kissed you, but god, how you wanted her to.

♱ the sculptures started after your engagement was announced. you in marble, you in bronze, you eternally preserved in cold, beautiful stone. she worked feverishly, possessed by something you both couldn't name. "i'm making you immortal," she'd say, and her eyes would glow like embers. "isn't that what you want?" it was. it is.

♱ you found her old sketches one night—drawings of you as a child, then a teenager right before her abandonment of you, then a woman, dated through all the years she'd been gone. she'd never stopped watching you, never truly left. 

♱ the pages were stained with something dark at the edges. you traced them with your fingers, understanding finally what it meant to be beloved by something inhuman.

♱ "do you ever think about that night in the garden?" she asked once, hands covered in clay as she shaped your likeness. "when we first met?" you nodded, remembering the cold touch of her hand. "i knew then," she said, "that you'd be mine. but you didn’t understand it." 

♱ the way your heart raced at those words should have frightened you. instead, you whispered back, "i understand now."

♱ viktor speaks of jinx with a mixture of fear and reverence. "she's not right," he whispers against your neck one night, and you feel nothing but impatience at his touch. "the things she does in that studio..." but he never finishes the thought. the family—the coven, jinx’s voice corrected you—needs her, so they keep her close. 

♱ you need her too, but for entirely different reasons.

♱ sometimes she watches viktor touch you—at dinner parties, in the garden, during your dancing lessons. her eyes are molten in those moments, and later you find your face torn to pieces, canvas slashed with violent strokes of red. 

♱ anyone else would be terrified, but the desperation with which she wants you makes your body riot with heat. you begin to leave your windows open at night, hoping she'll come to claim what's hers.

♱ "sit still," she commands, and you do. you always do. she's sculpting your hands now, obsessing over every line, every vein. "beautiful," she murmurs, and her fingers trace the paths her chisel will follow. your pulse jumps beneath her touch. she smiles, knowing. you smile back, trembling and wanting.

♱ the studio walls are covered with you now. sleeping, laughing, reading, dancing—moments you don't remember posing for. "my muse," she calls you, but it feels more like worship. every angle of you captured, preserved, devoured by her artistry. you wonder if this is what it feels like to be transformed into myth, and if she would lash out at your desire to be her priestess instead of her god.

♱ you find her one night in the garden, beneath your hydrangeas. she's painting with something dark and wet, and the flowers are turning red beneath her brush. she’s upset, her spin flexing agitatedly. "your wedding is in a month," she says without looking up. "i'm running out of time." 

♱ you kneel beside her in the dirt, press your fingers to her cold cheek. "what do you need me to say in order for you to just take me?" you whisper. her eyes flash in the dark.

♱ the paintings change again. now they're fever dreams—you with wings of thorn, you with a crown of bones, you surrounded by writhing shadows. in every one, there's a crimson figure reaching for you. in every one, you're reaching back. they're no longer paintings but prophecies, and you ache for their fulfillment.

♱ "he'll never see you like i do," she tells you, circling your latest statue. “i know,” you answer. "he'll never capture your essence." her hand hovers over the marble's heart. “i—i know.” "he'll never make you eternal." the way she says it sounds like a promise. "i know,” your breathing is erratic now. “i don't want him to," you answer. "i only want you." 

♱ the sculpture shatters that night; neither of you mention the blood on her hands.

♱ you start finding dead hydrangeas on your pillow, their petals black with age. beneath them, sketches of you in a wedding dress, the train stained scarlet, the veil made of lace and gray shadow. her signature is always in red. you press the flowers between book pages, collecting them like love notes.

♱ "tell me about the night you disappeared," you ask her once, lying among the ruined canvases of her studio. she traces patterns on your throat instead of answering. "i had to become worthy of you," she finally says. "i had to learn how to keep you forever." you turn your head, bare your neck and spread your legs. she lies against you, begins to drag two finger to your center. "show me," you breathe. “please.”

♱ she eats you like she does everything else: wildly, insatiably, and relentless. you feel out of control, grasping at your thighs as you finish over her.

♱ the night before your wedding, she asks to paint you one last time. viktor warns against it, but you go anyway. her studio smells of copper and roses. 

♱ she doesn't use canvas this time. instead, her fingers trace runes on your throat, your wrists, your heart. "art needs sacrifice," she says, and her teeth gleam in the candlelight. "and i've waited so patiently. given you up for long enough." you think of all the years she watched, waited, wanted. your hands find her hair.  “stop waiting."

♱ your first night as her creature, you understand why she always painted in red. the world explodes into color you never knew existed—violets deeper than bruises, blues that pulse like veins, reds that sing of life itself. "everything's so beautiful," you whisper. she laughs against your throat. "this is just the beginning, baby."

♱ viktor never makes it to the altar. the coven whispers that he fled, abandoned his bride-to-be. only you and jinx know the truth of his final portrait, painted in shades of crimson and hung in the deepest chamber of her studio. his last gift to art. you understand now—true art should hurt a little.

♱ the garden blooms year-round now, hydrangeas stained perpetually dark with your midnight feedings. 

♱ "do you remember when you were afraid of me?" she asks one night, centuries after. you're both covered in bed, her mouth slick from where she’s been drinking. "i was never afraid," you correct her, licking the color from her fingers. "i think i just always loved you and found myself incomplete. that’s terrifying at thirteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty. and it never stops.”

♱ “good” she murmurs, and you know then that if you ever die she will be the thing that kills you.

caitlyn.

♱ she's been watching you grow into yourself for years. quiet, careful, always maintaining that perfect distance. you think she's just being professional—the respected vampire mediator, keeping an eye on the human liaison to her kind. 

♱ she knows better, knows what you are. she feels the pull every time you enter a room, like gravity shifting to accommodate your presence.

♱ you begin to speak to her, lay yourself bare. you find that she’s so attentive when she listens, her body twisting to match the shape of yours as she leans her chin on hands and never breaks her gaze.

♱ "you'll find them," she tells you one night, when you're crying in her study about another failed relationship. her hand hovers over your shoulder, not quite touching. "your perfect one is out there." 

♱ the lie tastes of rot in her mouth. she knows exactly where your perfect match is—sitting across from you, centuries old and terrified of how young you are.

♱ you bring her wine she can't drink and tell her your secrets. your life spills out of you, a thin timeline that is a speck in how long she’s lived. she collects each one like precious stones, storing them away with all the other pieces of you she's gathered over the years. 

♱ "i just want someone to look at me and know," you confess. she grips her desk until the wood creaks, fighting the urge to say: i know. i've always known.

♱  she can’t help herself in some ways. there are some things she can't hide, one of them being her favor. books appear on your desk about subjects you mentioned wanting to learn. your favorite flowers stay blossomed in winter outside your window. a shadow follows you home on dangerous nights. you think she's just being kind. she's being careful—so, so careful.

♱ "do you ever feel it?" you ask her once. "that pull toward someone? like your whole body already knows them?" she looks at you for a long moment, memorizing the way moonlight catches in your dilated eyes. for a moment, she zones out and listens to your body pump and pulse. she hears your sudden arousal, the sticky syrupy run of your cunt as you watch her the swell of her chest.

♱ "yes," she says finally, slightly breathless. "i know exactly what you mean." you smile, relieved to be understood. she turns away, centuries of control cracking.

♱ when you finally find out, it's not gentle. there's a fight, an ancient vampire who gets too close, wounds you and tells you too much. 

♱ "ask your protector why she keeps you close," he sneers before caitlyn tears him apart. "ask her why she won't let anyone else have you."

♱ you're magnificent in your rage. "all this time!" you seethe, hurling books at her head. "watching me cry about being alone. letting me think—" she catches a particularly heavy tome before it hits her face. 

♱ "i was trying to protect you," she starts. "from what?" you roar. "from me," she whispers. 

♱ you settle and she finds it worse than the rage.“caitlyn, you are my mate. out of everyone, you could only ever save me.” 

♱ "i've lived centuries," she tries to explain. "i've seen everything this world has to offer. i didn't want to take your chance at a normal life. you will resent me as time passes. that is the truth." you laugh, bitter and broken. "that wasn't your choice to make. and it was the wrong one. resent you? it’s as if you don’t even know me."

♱ she finds you in her study at midnight, surrounded by her journals. centuries of entries about you, dreams at frist—about the pull, about fighting it. then you came into the world and it was real, more terrifying. 

♱ "when?" you ask, voice raw. "when did you know?" she kneels beside your chair, finally letting herself touch your hand. "the moment you walked into my office five years ago. it felt like walking into sunlight after an endless night."

♱ "i've memorized all your habits," she confesses one night, when you're still angry but can't stay away. "the way you tap your fingers when you're thinking. how you always have to turn to an even-numbered page in a book before you leave it. the exact sound of your heartbeat when you're about to cry." 

♱ you want to hate how well she knows you. instead, you ache.

♱ she starts leaving collections of letters for you, months of longing bound in leather. you read about the first time she saw you smile, how she had to leave the room because the wanting was too much. about all the times she nearly shattered, nearly told you, nearly gave in. 

♱ "i wrote novels of you," she whispers when you confront her. "i just couldn't let you read them."

♱ "i want to know," you demand one evening, tired of careful distance. "show me what it feels like." 

♱ she presses her hand to your chest, lets you feel the pull that's been tormenting her for years. it's like drowning in fire, like every love poem ever written condensed into a single touch. 

♱ "oh," you breathe. "why did you keep this from me?"

♱ you find her old paintings hidden away—you in every season, every light. she's captured moments you didn't even know she witnessed. 

♱ "i told myself it wasn't possessive if i never showed anyone," she admits. you trace a picture of yourself sleeping, rendered in oils and longing. you turn to her, face open and wet. "what if i wanted to be possessed?"

♱ the first time she kisses you, it's like coming home. "i'm still angry," you murmur against her lips. “furious even.” her hands shake as they frame your face. "i know. i'll spend decades earning your forgiveness." 

♱ you bite her lower lip hard enough to draw blood. "decades? is that all?"

♱ she tries to maintain control even now—always asking permission, always holding back. you learn to break her resolve with casual touches, with bared skin, with whispered confessions. "let go," you tell her, pressing closer. "i want you to trust yourself so implicitly, that you let yourself go. i'm not made of glass." 

♱ when she finally does, there are stars exploding behind your eyes and gunfire in your head. you will never forget the feel of her, her cunt swollen and pink and weeping against you.

♱ "i used to stand outside your door at night," she admits, tracing patterns on your bare shoulder. "listening to you breathe, making sure you were safe." you should find it creepy. instead, you think of all the nights you felt protected without knowing why.

♱  "next time," you say, "come inside."

♱ you start finding little gifts—first editions of books you mentioned loving, antique jewelry that matches your eyes, pressed flowers from centuries ago. "i've been collecting things for you," she explains, shy suddenly. "since before the day we met." 

♱ you wear her history around your neck, let her sink into your blood.

♱ sometimes you catch her watching you with that old hesitation. you've learned to read it now—the fear that she's taking too much, loving too deeply. "i choose this," you remind her, pressing your wrist to her mouth. "i choose you." she kisses your pulse point like a prayer.

♱ "i thought i was protecting you," she whispers one night, when you're tangled in her sheets and her guilt. "but i was really protecting myself. from how much i could love you. from how much it would destroy me to lose you." 

♱ you kiss the confession from her lips. "you will never lose me. but i will ruin you, if you ever try to keep me from you again. in any fashion.”

♱ she shivers, understands that you are saying this as a vow. she rolls you over, climbs on top of you, tries to tear apart your body to find a place to stay.

ambessa.

♱ she never looks at you. not really. you're furniture to her, useful and invisible. you clean lip stains from her wine glasses, replace torn sheets, erase all evidence of her endless parade of lovers. sometimes you find drops of blood on the marble floor and wonder what it would taste like to be wanted by her.

♱ "excellent work as always," she says without turning around. you've just finished clearing away another morning-after scene—scattered clothes, broken crystal, the lingering scent of sex and copper in the air. her praise feels like acid in your chest. 

♱ you want her to see you. you want her to devour you. you want, you want, you want.

♱ you keep track of her lovers in your mind, a masochistic catalog. the willowy blonde who screamed her name. the dark-haired man who left claw marks on her sheets. the redhead who stayed for three nights (a record). 

♱ none of them last. none of them matter. but they get to taste her, and you're just the ghost who cleans up their remains.

♱ "my perfect attendant," she calls you, when she bothers to speak to you at all. she doesn’t even know your name, yet you know every detail of her life—how she takes her blood (warm, with a drop of rum), which silk sheets she prefers (harvest gold, 800 thread count), the exact temperature she likes her chambers (a cool 65 degrees). 

♱ you know everything except what her fangs would feel like against your throat.

♱ it breaks on a tuesday. you find another lover's scarf wound around her bedpost, stained with blood and something else. your hands shake as you untie it. maybe they were kept captive with it. ungrateful. she wouldn’t have to hold you down for anything. you would prostate, beg for her. you would be good.

♱ "leave it," her voice commands from the doorway. you turn, and finally, finally she's looking at you. but all you can see is the fresh bite mark on her neck, already healing. 

♱ something about it needles at you, guts you. she usually doesn’t let them bite her back. "no," you whisper. then louder: "no." 

♱ she raises an eyebrow, amused at your defiance. "excuse me?" the scarf falls from your trembling fingers. 

♱ "i can't—i won't do this anymore. i can't keep cleaning up after them. after you. i can't—" your voice breaks. tears spill down your cheeks. her amusement vanishes. 

♱ “my entire life, i’ve been right there. and i know you know. i know you can smell it.” you practically hiss it. “every day, i debase myself in front of you. i can never hate you but i want to get close.”

♱ "you're dismissed," she says quietly. you laugh through your tears. of course. of course she'd throw you away the moment you showed weakness. 

♱ you leave without packing your things, without looking back. you don't see her expression as she watches you go, the way her fingers dig into the doorframe hard enough to splinter wood.

♱ another coven takes you in. lesser nobles, but they're kind enough. you don't have to clean up after anyone's trysts. you don't have to smell blood on sheets or wonder about the sounds coming from behind closed doors. you should be happy. 

♱ instead, you dream of her every night. hot, detailed, torrid visions that make you wake weak and wet.

♱ a month passes. then two. you learn to breathe again, to exist in spaces that don't smell like her perfume. "you seem sad," your new mistress says. you force a smile. "only tired." 

♱ gyou don't tell her that every room feels wrong, that every bed you make feels empty without gold upon it.

♱ she comes for you on a moonless night. you're changing linens (always changing linens, even here) when the temperature drops. "did you think i would let you go so easily?" her voice slides down your spine like ice. you don't turn around. you can't. “i thought you’d have returned by now, would have reconsidered what you gave up.”

♱ "look at me," she commands. you've never been able to deny her anything. she's exactly as beautiful as you remember, but her eyes are different. starved. "my perfect attendant," she purrs. "do you know how many lovers i've taken since you left?" you flinch. she smiles. "none."

♱ "come home," she says, like it's that simple. you gather your pride around you like armor. “why should i?” her eyes flash. "because you're mine." you laugh, bitter and bright. "i am—i’m not a medarda. i was never yours. i was your furniture, remember? you didn’t even call me by name." 

♱ for the first time in centuries, ambessa medarda looks uncertain.

♱ she starts leaving gifts—not just jewelry and silk, but tokens of attention. oysters, shelled and presented to make your consumption easier. books you'd mentioned wanting to read, when you thought she wasn't listening. a bottle of the perfume you wear, worth more than your yearly salary. you send them all back. she needs to learn that you can't be bought.

♱ "tell me how to fix this," she demands one night, appearing in your chambers. you're still in your evening dress from serving at the coven's gathering, throat on display and adorned with delicate chains. her eyes fix on your nervous swallow. 

♱ "you can't just command everything better," you say softly. "not this time."

♱ she follows you to another gathering, watching from shadows as you serve blood-wine to lesser vampires. you're dressed in black silk, your neck a graceful line adorned with gold. the whole room's attention shifts when you move—too many hungry eyes, too many sharp smiles. you pretend not to notice. the attention means nothing; it isn’t hers.

♱ you hear her growl when one of them gets too close, asking if you'd like to "serve privately." before she can move, you handle it yourself: a polite smile, a steel-edged refusal. you've learned to navigate these waters. you don't need her protection.

♱  (but oh, how your heart races when you feel her rage across the room. you’re almost sick with it.)

♱ "they want to devour you," she seethes later, cornering you in an empty hallway. "i can smell their desire. their need." you meet her gaze steadily. "now you know how it feels." 

♱ understanding dawns in her eyes, followed by something darker. "is this what you felt? watching me with them?" you turn away. her hand catches your wrist. "answer me."

♱ "yes," you whisper. "every night. every morning. watching you choose everyone but me. wanting—" your voice breaks. her grip tightens. "wanting what?" you pull away. "everything. anything. just one taste of being yours."

♱ she moves differently after that. 

♱ no more commands, no more assumptions. she courts you properly, like you're something precious. leaves letters detailing all the things she noticed but never said. how graceful your hands are when you pour wine. how your hair settles against your back when you sleep. how she missed your scent in her chambers.

♱ "i may have taken you for granted," she admits one evening. you're both in her study, you perched carefully out of reach. "i thought you would always be there. my perfect girl." her laugh is self-deprecating. "i didn't realize i was losing my only match."

♱ another gathering. another dress. this time when the vampires stare, she's at your side. "she’s spoken for," she says evenly. you raise an eyebrow. "am i?" her hand finds your waist, possessive but questioning. "if you wish to be."

♱ "make me believe it," you challenge. she watches you, then sinks low. she’s kneeling before you and the sight makes you dizzy—ambessa medarda, on her knees. the room goes silent. 

♱ "i have loved you," she says, loud enough for all to hear, "in all the wrong ways. let me love you properly." you touch her chin, tilt her face up. "prove it."

♱ she relearns you slowly, deliberately. no more invisible servant—now she watches openly as you move through her chambers. "tell me if you want me to stop," she says, but you don't. you want her to see everything she missed before.

♱ "you've redecorated," she notes one night, when you finally return to her rooms. you've replaced the golden silk with deep purple, changed the artwork, rearranged the furniture. made it yours. "i'm not here to clean up after you anymore," you remind her. she traces a finger along your jaw. "no. you aren’t."

♱ the first time she feeds from you, it's like death— you are breaking apart all at once; you are coming together and it is sweet.

♱ "you taste like nectar," she breathes against your throat. you thread fingers through her hair, holding her close. "you taste like mine," you answer. she shudders against you.

♱ the next time she kneels for you is in the drawing room, her head beneath your skirts and your legs on her shoulders. she laps at you, pulls orgasm after orgasm from you until you kick at her back. even then she continues, with fingers instead of tongue. the pain, the pleasure—it’s endless.

♱ old habits die hard—sometimes she still tries to command rather than ask. but now when she slips, you arch an eyebrow and wait. "please," she'll correct herself, the word foreign and stilted on her tongue. you reward her with kisses that always spiral out of control.

♱ you keep one of her old lover's scarves, tucked away in a drawer. sometimes when she's being particularly imperious, you take it out, let her see it. "i could leave again," you remind her. she pulls you into her lap, buries her face in your neck. "you won’t. it won’t be as easy. you know this." you gasp as her teeth sink in.

♱ "do you miss it?" she asks once. "taking care of me?" you run your fingers along her spine. "i still take care of you. i just do it as your equal now."

♱ she presses you into silk sheets, whispers "show me" against your skin. you do.

♱ you catch her watching you dress for bed, something vulnerable in her eyes. "what is it?" you ask. "i suppose i keep waiting," she admits, "for you to decide that you would like something different." you straddle her lap, cradle her face in your hands. "i decided that i deserve exactly what i chose."

♱ the other covens still whisper—about how the great ambessa medarda let a servant become her consort, about how she kneels for you in private (did it in public, even). they don't understand that she's never been stronger than when she's yielding to you.

♱ besides, it is you who often submits. she drives you insane with how much you need her. you just force her to work for it. 

♱ "sweet girl," she calls you now, never attendant. occasionally, she speaks your name, usually in the midst of pleasure. you're arranging flowers in her study (old habits), and she's watching you like you're something holy. 

♱  you meet her eyes in the mirror. "yes, mistress?" 

♱ her eyes darken. she rolls up her sleeves, comes over.

sevika.

♱ she comes to collect on a sunday. you're serving tea to your mother when the door creaks open—no knock, no warning. just sevika, silco's enforcer, filling the doorway like an omen. 

♱ "time to pay up," she drawls, flashes teeth. your mother starts to cry. you pour another cup of tea.

♱ "would you like some?" you ask, steady-handed despite your racing heart. she blinks, caught off-guard by your composure. "what?" you gesture to the cup. "it's jasmine. very soothing." 

♱ her laugh is sharp as broken glass. "you think tea will save you from your family's debts?" "no," you say simply. "but it might buy me an hour to pack." 

♱ she studies you over the rim of the teacup she doesn't remember accepting. you pretend not to notice how she watches your throat when you swallow hard. "one hour," she agrees. you hide a smile in your cup.

♱ one hour becomes one day. becomes one week. becomes one month. you're clever with your delays—always just reasonable enough, always with something to offer. "you're playing a dangerous game, priya," she warns you. 

♱ your fingers brush hers as you hand her another cup of tea. "i know."

♱ she begins to linger after delivering silco's threats and your family home becomes a strange fairytale in this winter—ice flowers blooming on windows, shadows moving like living things, sevika's footsteps echoing on wooden floors. you serve tea in your grandmother's bone china cups, and sometimes there are teeth marks on the rims that weren't there before.

♱ you always meet in your mother's parlor, all faded elegance and desperate pride. snow falls outside like ash, and the samovar steams in the corner, waiting. when sevika enters, the dark worn world follows her—frost crawling up the windows, ice crystallizing in your lungs. you never stood a chance at escape. so you just shift the goal.

♱ you learn that her mechanical arm aches in the cold, the phantom of the real one haunting her. that she has a secret fondness for your mother's butter cookies. 

♱ "you're stalling," she tells you over and over. "yes," you agree. "is it working?"

♱ your mother catches on first. "oh, clever girl," she whispers, watching sevika watch you over dinner. "but be careful. a jaguar is still a jaguar even if it hides its teeth." you think of the way sevika's hands shook when you touched her last, how she pulls back if you flinch even slightly at her approach. "mmm. the jaguar is still a cat."

♱ your first kiss tastes like smoke and metal. she's furious about something—another clever excuse, another day bought—and you silence her with your mouth. she pulls back, eyes wide. 

♱ "you can't seduce your way out of this," she tells you, her voice almost dead. you trace her bottom lip with your thumb. "i’m not trying to. my desire for you is a separate thing."

♱ she brings you gifts that feel like warnings: a silver hairpin sharp enough to kill, a red cloak lined with raven feathers, a ring set with stones that look like frozen blood. "are you trying to save me or damn me?" you ask, letting her fasten the clasp at your throat. she kisses your pulse point. "both. neither. everything."

♱ you find out she's older than your great-grandmother's grandmother. "does it bother you?" she asks roughly. you're curled in her lap, mapping the scars on her human hand. "does what bother me? that you're ancient?" she pinches your side. you kiss her neck. "you're just well-preserved."

♱ eventually, your meddling works. after one too many unsuccessful collections, silco summons you both. 

♱ "fascinating," he muses, taking in sevika's protective stance, your carefully blank expression. "you've found quite an interesting solution to your family's situation." you meet his knowing gaze. you let your heart marr your face with its emotion. "oh, how sweet,” he murmurs. “marry my enforcer, erase the debt. is this what you want?"

♱ “i want to live,” you answer, with your jutting out. you feel sevika turn and look at you, feel the realiztion come that she’s been a (delightful) means to an end. 

♱ "you’ve been using me," she accuses later, pressing you against your bedroom wall. "from the first day.” you wrap your arms around her neck. pull at her hair until her head falls back."yes." she shudders. "why?" you kiss her mechanical knuckles. "because i see you and you see me. really see me. you know i am wicked and you still drink my tea.”

♱ she fucks you hard, fast. your stomach is bruised from where she holds you, your legs nicked by her claws as she grabs you when you try to scramble away. she’s mean, understandably confused and maybe even feeling betrayed. you let her rut her frustration onto your cunt, gasp softly as she laps her slick from between your folds. 

♱ “i should drain you,” she murmurs into your sweat-slick neck. you pull away, grasp her jaw. “i often thought that you should eat me. dreamed of it. sometimes,” you confess, “i even came. i had to squirrel away the sheets before my mother could find them.” she shakes, slips a finger inside of you. “liar,” she accuses. “if that makes it easier,” you respond.

♱ "my mother believes i did this to save us" you tell her one night, snow gathering on the windowsills like secrets. "she thinks i'm sacrificing myself." sevika's hand whirs as she pulls you closer. "aren't you?" you smile against her throat. "i only reward myself in this life. it’s not a sacrifice if you really want it."

♱ your wedding preparations become a dance of power and submission. you choose a lavish black dress with silver threading for the rehersal, drape yourself in diamonds cold as death. "you look like you're already one of us," sevika murmurs, and you can't tell if she's pleased or terrified. "isn't that what you really want?" you ask. her silence tastes pleasant.

♱ the night before your wedding, you find her in the garden, snow melting around her feet. "having second thoughts?" you ask, wrapping your arms around her waist. she rocks into you. "wondering when exactly i lost control of this," she admits. you press closer, sharing warmth she doesn't need. "bold of you to assume you ever had it."

♱ your wedding is a power play, a business transaction, a love story written in blood and tea leaves. you wear red and gold, traditional colors for a vampire's bride. sevika looks at you like she's drowning. "still think i'm just a clever little girl?" you whisper during your first dance. she kisses you hard enough to break your jaw. "you're the most dangerous woman i've ever met."

♱ you move into her quarters in silco's mansion—all dark wood and darker secrets. at night, you hear screams from the lower levels, but you never flinch. instead, you pour tea rigidly in cups rimmed with gold, light candles that smell of grape and amber, create a home in the heart of a monster's lair.

♱ "you should be more afraid of me," she tells you one night, after you've watched her tear someone apart. you're helping her clean blood from her joints, gentle and thorough. "what’s the point? i’m in this now. anway, you should be afraid of me," you counter, pressing a kiss to her gore-stained knuckles. her laugh catches in her throat.

♱ silco watches you at dinner parties, amused by how you've tamed his beast. but he doesn't see how you feed her morsels from your fingers, how your soft touches leave her trembling, how your love is its own kind of violence. how you aren’t afraid to lash her with it, refuse her affection to keep her in line. you know she needs this, that she’s rarely had it before.

♱ "you've made her weak," he accuses. you smile, all teeth. "i've made her mine."

♱ you develop rituals together, sacred as prayer and sharp as knives. every night, you clean her mechanical arm—each gear, each plate, each deadly piece. your hands never shake, even when they're stained with someone else's blood. "my good girl," she murmurs, and you pretend not to notice how her voice trembles.

♱ the tea ceremony becomes something close to holy between you. your grandmother's samovar, polished until it shines like a mirror, brewing tea dark as sin. you pour with steady hands while she tells you about the night's violence. 

♱ sometimes you taste copper in the cup and realize she's kissed the rim, leaving traces of her work behind. you drink it anyway.

♱ you draw her baths after hunts, water turning pink with vicera that isn't hers. she lets you wash her hair, lets you trace the scars on her back, lets you piece her together again. "i could kill you just like this," she says when you massage her scalp. you kiss her shoulder. "i’d drag you down."

♱ on cold nights, you brush and braid her hair, weaving in strips of leather and small, sharp blades. your touches are gentle but your intentions aren't, and she knows it. "am i pretty enough yet?" she teases. you rest your chin on her shoulder, dig down. "you’re easily the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen." her pupils dilate and her legs part, so you reach a hand around her waist to drag between them.

♱ the other vampires think it's sweet, how you wait up for her. they don't see how you position yourself by windows, arranging your reflection to watch all the doors. how your devotion has teeth.

♱ you keep her schedule in a leather-bound book, writing in codes you invented as a child. meetings marked in red ink, kills in black, feeding times in gold. "my good little wife," she coos, but you catch her studying the patterns you create, trying to decode your secrets.

♱ sometimes she brings you presents from her hunts—jewelry still warm from its previous owners, books with bloodstained pages. you accept them with genuine delight, arrange them carefully in your shared space. "magpie," she calls you fondly. "collecting pretty things." you don't tell her that she was your first collection. your most prized.

♱ your bedroom becomes a museum of decadent violence—diamond necklaces with broken clasps, antique daggers hung like artwork, silk sheets that have seen both birth and death. you keep her arm's spare parts in a velvet-lined box beside your perfumes.

♱ "do you ever regret it?" she asks one night, watching you stitch up a wound on her human arm. your needle is silver, your thread is silk, your hands are sure. "falling in love with someone—someone like me?" 

♱ you tie off the suture with precise fingers. "you simply have claws and i’ve always believed love was meant to scar." she kisses you, surging forward to suck you up.

bonus: vi. 

♱ you first notice her at the local underground fighting rings, all raw power and feral grins. you can smell what she is - werewolf, obviously - but she's so young and unrefined in her movements that you assume she must be newly turned. still, something about her draws your centuries-old heart.

♱ you only dare to attend the fights under the guise of accompanying your brother, a known patron of these brutal entertainments. each night you tell yourself you'll stop coming, stop watching her. each night you fail, drawn to the way she dominates the ring with savage grace. you wonder if she could make you fall like that. 

♱  she catches you watching one night, corners you in the shadowy hallway with a grin that's all teeth. "see something you like, vamp?" she asks, and you flush. 

♱ you turn, run away, your chest clenching tightly as you remember her in the privacy of your rooms. your fingers work deep inside you and you let out a small wail as you think of her tattooed hands inside you instead.

♱ she keeps showing up at your usual haunts, those golden eyes following you with an intensity that makes your dead heart flutter. when she finally approaches you again, her flirting is clumsier but endearing, and you find yourself charmed by this baby wolf despite yourself. 

♱ “it’s good to meet you under proper circumstances, vi,” you say and her eyes shine at her name.

♱ your "guidance" begins with teaching her to hunt properly, but she always seems to know exactly where to find her prey. you chalk it up to natural instinct until you notice how the other wolves defer to her in passing. still, the way she looks at you with those eager eyes makes you forget your suspicions.

♱ quiet moments become your undoing - the way she brings you still-warm blood in crystal glasses, how she curls around you on cold mornings like you're pack. you find yourself sharing centuries of secrets, and she listens with an ancient patience that should have been your first clue.

♱ the first time she takes you to her territory, deep in the woods where the trees whisper ancient songs, you feel the power thrumming through the earth. she presses you against the bark and holds you as you’re ravaged by the first feel of the werewolf bond. you let her. her hands leave bruises that heal too quickly.

♱ you convince yourself it's only in your head, her unwavering attention, just the mental thrill of forbidden fruit. but then she starts leaving little gifts where only you'll find them - a baby blue ribbon for your throat or hair, a wolf's tooth on a golden chain. each token makes your dead heart ache with something you dare not name.

♱ but the world cannot allow you peace. the tension between covens and packs grows thicker than old blood. you see it in the way your kind bare their fangs at passing wolves, in how the wolves' eyes gleam with barely contained violence in return.

♱ still, you meet her in secret, pretending the world isn't fracturing around you.

♱  when the council announces the marriage alliances, you volunteer quickly - anything to make living easier for her. she is young, has so much ahead of her. you arrive at court in your finest blacks, ready to do your duty. then you see her standing among the pack leaders, power radiating from her like the sun.

♱ it's when, in the middle of this supernatural court, that someone addresses her as "heir apparent" and your world tilts on its axis. the realization hits like a stake to the heart. 

♱ vi, heir to the most powerful pack in the territory, had been letting you believe she was some untrained pup. the way you’ve been treating her is deeply disgraceful. you can feel her eyes burning into you as you swear your agreement to whatever contract, make your excuses, and flee under the pretense of preparing for the following diplomatic talks.

♱ your pride wounded, you avoid her for days that stretch into weeks. but she's persistent - leaving gifts at your door, handwritten notes that smell of earth and pine. your resolve weakens with each gesture, even as you try to stay angry

♱ she finds you anyway, because of course she does. she corners you in your own haven, and there's nothing puppy-like about her now. her power fills the room like smoke, making your knees weak. "enough games," she orders, and when she kisses you this time, there's no pretense of submission.

♱ "i know i withheld, but i only wanted to keep this.” you say nothing, raise a hand to sound the servants bell. she grasps your fingers, holds your hand. “i know you’re upset, but did you really think i'd let them marry you off to some other wolf?" she’s walking you forward, backing you against the library shelves. 

♱ "i've been working for months to position myself as the logical choice for this alliance." her laugh is dark and rich against your throat. “even brought up the damn idea myself.”

♱ “i wasn’t listening,” you finally say. “i only answered to leave faster. to be less humiliated.” she softens at that.

♱ "that wasn’t ever the intention, my love.” you look away. “but did you really think i was some newborn pup?" she whispers against your throat, teeth grazing your skin. "i've been alpha-in-training since before you noticed your first gray hair, little bat."

♱ "all those nights at the fights," she continues, "watching you try to hide your interest from your brother, from everyone. knowing you thought you were being so careful with the naïve little wolf." her hands grip your hips possessively. "when really, i was just waiting for the perfect moment to claim what's mine.”

♱ the way she manhandles you onto your own bed leaves no doubt about who's really in charge. 

♱ "my sweet girl," she groans as she marks your throat, your chest, your thighs. "watching you try to show me how to track when i could smell your desire from miles away. how to fight when i've led warriors. but gods, the way you touched me like i was new to this world…"

♱  she bullies her fingers into you, milks you until you cry. after, her mouth finds your cunt and she eats of you—slurping so loudly that you cover your face with embarrassment. she only grins, laps at you harder. you white out as she orders you to cum again.

♱ and so the war that threatened to tear your worlds apart becomes the very thing that lets you keep her. your nights are filled with new lessons now - how her pack honors the old ways, how the moon-song flows through her bloodline. in public, you play the part of diplomatic necessity. in private, she follows your body like law until your weeping and can barely stay up.

♱ she returns from hunts, blood-drunk and fierce but still gentle as she pulls you close. you think that perhaps being prey wasn’t the worst thing. this was your way of finally belonging to something wild and true.

© hcneymooners.