#while hes powerless to stop it

[sirgawainofgalifrey]

Gumworth Week Day 1: Injury

This one's called "Not Again."

[slankyyy-revs-the-world]

Been playing through 3Hopes atm… Finished rawdogging Chp5 Green Ally dialogue for Rancid Gautier Man and am on Chp7 of Azure Gleam

Ngl I really love how Hopes has way more Fodlani NPCs who are just guys in your army and you can hear their opinions about the current events of the game…

Recent example are two camp NPCs in Chp7; one NPC calls Dimitri stupid for returning to Fhirdiad while a priestess NPC worries about Rhea’s wellbeing in Camulus

I also love that in battle, when you defeat enemy forces - they have defeat dialogue ranging from ‘aw fuck I lost this sucks :(‘, ‘oh god I can never show my face to my comrades’ or ‘you’ll pay for this!! but also I don’t wanna die so I’ll run like a little bitch’

The world feels so much more alive and that it exists beyond just the named characters

[mirchloe]

rambling about strongman and ambassador under the cut since i'm drafting the next b-movie chapter

i'm really glad i made those archetypes since strongman is who bobby needed to be as a kid (violent, brawny, the king of the castle) while ambassador represents someone he wants to be (still ruthless and confident, but more level-leaded, willing to bend and change, considerate). strongman came from a place of trauma and having enough of his shitty home town and the incident in sasha's lab, a way to no longer be hurt by others if he's strongest and meanest, so strongman is literally strong and mean and cannot change, even as bobby grows up. he still looks like bobby at 12 despite bobby being 18 in b-movie. he's inflexible, but he's scared - he might be strong, but compared to ambassador, he starts to notice that he's not being needed as much when bobby realizes he has archetypes. he's not who bobby needs to be, even when bobby is angry and lashes out. he doesn't want to disappear, doesn't want to be forgotten, so he isn't going to tell bobby his anger and lashing out are wrong. he encourages it, believes it's the right thing to do because he's self-preservation. no one can hurt him. he's going to keep making it, even if he can't see the the depths of the hole bobby dug for himself.

ambassador came from a place of bobby sitting down with chloe and actually designing him (without realizing he was, in fact, making a new archetype pop up in his mind). he has a background that bobby wishes he had. he has a personality that bobby wishes he had. he's bobby's ideal, though at the same time, he's *chloe's ideal.* that distinction is important because bobby started trying to be a better person because of his friendship with chloe, because he believed in her stories about aliens and going to live in space and be among them, to start over. ambassador carries all of the violent horror stories bobby thought of for him, and to him, they are a very real past. he's trying to be better, though, and he's the one willing to tell bobby when he's not acting in the right, but because he, too, is bobby, he can be aggressive and lash out just the same. just like strongman, he's capable of letting his hurt get the best of him. so, even when he's the one bobby needs, and there are times when he can tell bobby stories or calm him down, he'll argue back with bobby. he'll tell bobby he's wrong, and bobby makes him disappear in a burst of paper - scenes that make strongman afraid, because bobby threatens to get rid of him, too. so, when ambassador is locked away for a year, punished for a misconception, he's bitter and vengeful, and he *knows* he should be bobby. he was always bobby, the real bobby, every ounce of self-improvement is because of him.

they're both selfish in their unique ways and blame each other. strongman can be a coward. ambassador can be just as cruel as strongman. bobby is both of them just as they are a part of him, and neither of them could be what bobby needed with "that thing" getting a stronger grasp over bobby as his negative thoughts keep accumulating. no one can self-reflect until it's already too late.

[macbethheadband]

Theres something so scifi about the way bj and hawkeye experience time so differently. Has anyone seen 8.06 period of adjustment recently.

[cherienymphe]

Basic Training XVIII

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, mentions of MURDER/violence/kidnapping, captivity, public sex, degradation, forced pregnancy, forced marriage, stockholm syndrome, ptsd, housewife kink, cop!Peter

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @whimsicalrogers

➥ series masterlist

summary: A pit stop during a road trip ends tragically when a small town cop sets his sights on you. You’re the newest addition in a long standing fucked up family tradition.

~

What had once been a great fear of yours had turned into something akin to a comfort.

The basement was a lot of things—dark, isolating, and creepy to name a few—but in the weeks that you’d been exiled to it’s suffocating walls, you slowly found solace in being left with nothing but your solitude and your thoughts. At least it felt that way. In truth, you didn’t feel much of anything at all and had grown content in that feeling.

Or lack thereof.

The days blended together until it was one long endless stretch of darkness, and it gave you so much time to think. You thought about every decision that had landed you here, all the way from your first conscious memory to that fateful day when you and your friends stopped in some seemingly unassuming town for food. If you thought about it too hard, you could feel a chill creeping over your still form.

Lingering on the day your friends were murdered threatened to put you back in that headspace you’d been in when you were first brought to this house. Your breathing would become shallow at the memory of your erratic emotions and your inability to hold your bodily fluids and the time you’d nearly lost your mind at the mere sight of blood.

You had quite literally lost your mind.

You’d been driven insane by the abuse you’d suffered and had been forced to witness, mind shattering and falling apart from the actions of the same person tasked with putting it back together in whatever manner benefited him. Peter had torn you down and built you back up like some demented caregiver and despite the fact that you knew this—recognized this—you were essentially powerless to do anything about it.

You were in too deep, this was your life now, and such a thought was both comforting and suffocating. On the one hand, you knew what was in store for you. The rest of your days were laid out before you so meticulously, a breakdown of what every single day would be like for the rest of your life. In a way…it was relieving to think that you’d never have to expend any more effort into planning a single thing about your life ever again.

…but in the same breath, that was so tragic.

The excitement of possibilities and opportunities was something you’d never feel again. You’d never have that wonder about what the next day or month or even year would bring. You briefly recalled fleeting thoughts of grad school once and possibly living abroad for a while. Peter would never allow that, and even if he wanted to, Steve would never allow him to even consider the thought.

This was your life now.

Such a simple sentence brought on far too many emotions for you to handle, and so you didn’t. Handle them, that is. You didn’t feel anything and it didn’t just start and end with the complexities of your heart. You didn’t feel the pillow beneath your head nor the thin sheets over your frame. You didn’t even feel the shift in the room when someone—no doubt Margaret or Christine—opened the door and descended the stairs to bring you food.

Surely you ate.

You were still alive, after all, but you didn’t recall eating. Truth be told, you didn’t even recall bathing or using the bathroom. If you thought long and hard about it—struggling with your memory so much that it made you frown in the darkness—you could recollect brief flashes of memories that painted a picture.

Sharon’s worried face before you as she held some orange juice in front of your face, Margaret standing in front of you in the bathroom, tone pleading as she encouraged you to empty your bladder, and even Tony and Pepper standing over your bed as Pepper said something to him, her stricken expression clear even in hazy memories.

The days and everything that happened in them blended together so seamlessly that it all started to feel like a dream. How funny it was that you once feared the basement so much it was enough to give you a panic attack, and now that you were down here you felt the calmest you’d ever felt in months. You felt unreal—untouchable even in a way—and it wasn’t long before you forgot that this wasn’t meant to be forever.

You forgot that a day would come where Peter would come down—likely with Steve in tow—and tell you that your punishment was over and you could finally rejoin him amongst the world above ground. You didn’t know how you felt about that, and you found yourself wondering if you even wanted that.

Of course, you wanted that.

You couldn’t live in darkness and solitude forever, but stepping out of this room meant going back to the problems the basement currently shielded you from. When you stepped through that threshold again, Steve and Bucky and all of the other husbands would likely still be upset with you with the mentioned being more cross than the others. You would have to step back into an atmosphere where you weren’t trusted—again—and you’d have to earn it all back…again.

You supposed you still had friends in the wives, but who was to say. Yes, you’d remained silent when you witnessed Nat escape, but you had a feeling that someone like Margaret likely wouldn’t agree with what you did. You recalled a conversation you had with her once about the needs and sanctity of the house coming first. Allowing one of the wives to escape and possibly ruin everything wasn’t exactly in line with that.

Nat didn’t seem upset with you, at all the last time you saw her, but you didn’t truly know verbatim what Peter had said to Bucky to get him to take her out of the basement. Sure, he could’ve insinuated that keeping her down here and punishing her in a harsh manner after they’d been trying for a baby wasn’t smart, but he also could have flat out said to him that according to you, Nat thinks she's pregnant.

You only wanted to save her, and while you liked to think she’d understand if she knew you told Peter, you also weren’t so sure. You weren’t sure of a lot of things anymore, and your uncertainty about so much—the result of whatever truth you thought you were living being turned upside down—made you retreat into yourself even more.

“Y/N, you need to eat something…”

The familiar voice faintly reached your ears, and as you slowly turned your head, you thought to yourself that you hadn’t even heard Margaret open the door and walk down the stairs. She was staring at you with an expression you couldn’t quite name, and it was only after some time did you register the weight in your lap.

Your gaze landed on a tray of food, and as appetizing as the toast and eggs and sausage looked, you had no desire to eat. You felt lucid for the first time in ages, and you slowly blinked before shaking your head. The words to tell her you weren’t hungry were on the tip of your tongue, but the redhead spoke before you could find your voice.

“You barely ate anything yesterday. And the day before…and the day before,” she breathed. “Steve wants to see an empty plate.”

You blinked again at that, and despite the fact that she was repeating Steve’s words, you could see her own concern in her eyes. You struggled to recall just how long you’d been down here and just how many plates you’d barely touched. You couldn’t recall, and despite the nagging at the back of your mind, you couldn’t bring yourself to want to eat.

Even so, you and Margaret knew better than anyone how Steve could be, and so you slowly reached out for a piece of toast.

“I’ll eat,” was all you said.

She seemed relieved as she left you—albeit reluctantly—and you nibbled on the bread in your hand. The taste of it on your tongue made your stomach twist, and you put the rest of it back down without thinking. You had every intention of finishing it later, but once your food was set aside, all you wanted to do was sleep.

Your sleep wasn’t dreamless, and it rarely ever was. Sometimes you dreamt of your mom and your friends and your life before Peter took you for himself like some villain. Those dreams served nothing more than to torment you, and you often woke from them with tears in your eyes, vision blurry even in the darkness.

More often than not though, you dreamt of Peter and your life here. Sometimes it was awful nightmares about Steve—and even Bucky sometimes—where his handsome face was contorted in that perpetual frown it always seemed to be in when he laid eyes on you. Only it would be so much worse.

Your brain liked to conjure up visions of him where he was absolutely murderous, and it was no secret as to why. There’d been the brief moment here and there where you wondered if Steve would just say ‘to hell’ with all of his rules and get rid of you—in the most violent and dismissive fashion—and force Peter to find a sane wife. 

A better one.

That left a bitter taste in your mouth…and you hated it.

You liked to think that the thought of Peter with someone else only upset you because you didn’t think any woman deserved to be subjected to this. You liked to think that righteously and noble of yourself, but the truth was much more demented and depraved and twisted. No woman did deserve any of this, that was true, but the thought of Peter loving someone else made your stomach churn.

You could say it until you were blue in the face that this wasn’t love—it couldn’t be—but it didn’t change how you felt. You couldn’t fathom the thought of being tossed aside and replaced, and being replaced by someone better would only add insult to the injury. It wasn’t fair that they got to break you until there was hardly anything left only to cast you aside because they didn’t like the inevitable results of their choices.

The thought made you want to be sick.

Peter would never, and you knew without a doubt that he would never, but for all that he put you through, the least he could do was remain by your side and look after you forever. Something deep within you hated him so much for what he did—the dark-haired man worse than you initially thought him to be—but a larger part, the part that had been carefully put back together by him, only wanted him to show an endless display of apologies for the rest of your days.

You deserved that.

You deserved to be free, but that was never happening, and as it were, could you even function properly if you were allowed to walk off of this property tomorrow? Your mind didn’t work the way it did before you were brought here. It had been taken apart and scrambled and replaced with one that wasn’t your doing. You feared that you would never be able to function right again, and who would want you?

Who would want you besides Peter?

You were an abused, broken, and genuinely unwell mess…and Peter loved you for it��in his own way. You could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at you that the thought of losing you would send him over the edge, and you knew you felt the same, but you were sure it was for entirely different reasons. At this point in your life…what were you without Peter?

When you weren’t dreaming of your friends and family, and when you weren’t conjuring up nightmares of a familiar blond, you were dreaming about the man who put you into this mess. Sometimes you dreamt about who he actually was and in those dreams there was no doubt about his motives and his actions and you felt the appropriate fear when staring into his eyes.

…but more often than not you dreamt about the man he manipulated you into loving. You dreamed about welcoming him home from work and kissing him and touching him. You dreamed about the days where he simply held you as you cried, conveniently ignoring that he was the reason for your tears. In this house of horrors, Peter was your safe place, and you knew that was purposely done, but again, you felt powerless to do anything about it.

It shouldn’t be that way, but your only other choice was to spend the rest of your days in torment.

“She hasn’t eaten properly in weeks,” the soft words reached your ears, and you knew they weren’t meant for you.

There was a beat of silence, and as you were slowly gripped by consciousness, you took note of the smell of food. It didn’t tempt you, and you almost turned your head away.

“Do you think it’s because of Peter?”

Jane.

You absentmindedly wondered why she was down here and not resting. You hated to think that she’d come down here just to check in on you when she should’ve been looking after herself. You felt her hand on your head.

“She hasn’t seen him in a month…and we know how she—how they can get…”

You squeezed your eyes tight at that, heart aching for the first time in forever at those words. Had it been that long already? Had you really gone a month without seeing him, talking to him, touching him? Was that the cause of this…numbness? You were sure Peter wasn’t the only factor here, but you couldn’t deny that you missed him. You weren’t used to being without him, and this was the longest you’d ever gone without being with him since you first woke up in this house.

…but you knew that this was as much of a punishment for him as it was for you.

What if he didn’t miss you at all? What if you were in hell while each day only brought him more peace not having to be around the crazy one? That thought made your heart ache more, and for a brief moment, you never wanted to see him again.

“Steve only thinks it’s been a handful of times, but she’s not eating. At first, we weren’t too alarmed, especially considering…”

You placed Margaret’s voice now as she trailed off.

“...but then every tray just went basically untouched, and she’s lost a lot of weight. I think we need to tell Steve to contact Dr. Banner.”

You recalled a familiar face with glasses and dark hair.

“She doesn’t use the bathroom every day either. She mostly sleeps,” the redhead added.

“Have you mentioned this to Peter?”

“So he can come barging down here and start a whole other thing with Steve? They’ve only just settled back into being civil with one another. If Peter finds out she’s like this…”

Margaret scoffed, and you detected the unease in her tone.

You had never thought about the aftermath that followed your punishment and how it might have affected things upstairs. You had never thought to, you supposed. You had just assumed that Peter would fall in line with what Steve wanted as usual. After all, no matter how you felt about what you’d done, the household—or more importantly the husbands—did not agree. You’d broken their rules, and rules were rules.

It had never occurred to you that this whole ordeal—and you being at the center of it—might cause friction between Peter and Steve.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the sound of your name, and you were loathed to admit that it took so much of your strength to open your eyes. Jane was as pregnant as ever and glowing, and she gave you a small smile when your gazes met.

“Do you want to try eating something today?

Her tone was light, but you detected a hint of pleading.

Your gaze shifted, and you looked at the tray of food in Margaret’s hands. You eyed it, wanting to eat for their peace of mind if nothing else, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. You swallowed, and Jane must have seen the guilt and conflict in your eyes.

“It’s okay,” she assured you. “You don’t have to.”

You didn’t miss Margaret’s look.

“We’ll leave it here, and you eat when you’re ready.”

She touched your face, and with a few lingering looks, they left you.

It wasn’t long before you dozed off again, but it wasn’t a deep sleep, and you drifted in and out of consciousness. It felt like no matter how much you slept, you just couldn’t shake the feeling of being exhausted. Exhausted, not tired. Your whole body seemed to ache, and you dreaded the moment you’d have to get up and shower.

The next time you were even halfway lucid, you felt a hand at your back and a spoon at your lips. On instinct, you turned your head away, but the person’s hand was firm.

“None of that. You need something on your stomach,” the voice was just as firm as the grip, and it was comfortingly familiar.

Your eyes widened a bit at the familiar face, and you unintentionally parted your lips, allowing her to give you a taste of broth. It took you by surprise, and you coughed a bit, but swallowed it nonetheless. Nat gave you another spoonful, and so in shock at her presence, you accepted it.

“Sharon’s supposed to be in my place…but…Steve and Bucky are at work,” she shrugged, and you couldn’t take your eyes off of her. “...and I had to see you.”

For the first time in a month or so, you felt…something. For a brief moment, your perpetual numbness had lifted, and you both spoke at the same time.

“I’m sorry.”

It was said by two different voices, but it echoed as one.

“You’re sorry…?” Confusion filled you. “Why are you sorry?”

Your voice was small and unsure, and Nat looked so like you were unused to seeing her. She was normally so strong and fierce—a great source of envy for you—but now she looked sad…and regretful.

“You felt more obligated to protect me than yourself…and had I thought for a moment that you’d see me…I never would’ve left.”

Your shoulders fell at that, and you hated that Nat felt…guilty over your predicament. Your own choices had led you here, and that was what you told her after clearing your throat.

“It doesn’t change the fact that I thought the best thing that could happen was I’d get help and we’d all leave this place…and the worst was that I’d get dragged back,” she fed you more broth. “Not once had I considered that someone else would get dragged into my mess.”

You didn’t quite know how to respond, because after all, you didn’t really agree with her. You hadn’t felt obligated to do anything. It seemed like a no brainer to you to not say that you saw her that night. It was never even a question, never even a consideration to tell Peter Nat had escaped.

You swallowed, only taking a tiny sip when she offered you another spoonful. The green-eyed woman frowned at that.

“Nat…”

The words were on the tip of your tongue, but she merely shook her head.

“Bucky was practically ready to flog me for leaving him,” she lightly said despite the severity of the topic. “When they threw me down in here, I was prepared for it. Even with my possible delicate condition.”

Your eyes met hers, and she sent you a crooked smile.

“I knew only one person could talk them out of whatever they prepared to do to me…and I knew there was only one thing you could say that would change their minds…” you bit your lip at that. “Thankfully, I thought wrong, but even if I was pregnant, I’d still understand why you did it.”

She gave a small, bitter laugh.

“I may not have agreed with it nor been the biggest supporter of that decision…but I get it,” she shrugged. “After they found out what you did, I think I was scared for you more than I’d ever been scared for anyone…and I imagine that’s what you’d felt like.”

Your gaze found the sheet on your legs.

“If I had known something that could save you too, I might’ve done the same.”

When she offered you more broth, you sadly shook your head. A look passed over her features at that, and her face fell. She set the spoon back in the bowl with a small sigh before standing.

“I had to check on you,” she told you. “They said you haven’t been eating, and I didn’t realize how bad it was…”

You noticed the way she eyed you, and you suddenly had the urge to find a mirror. She set the bowl down, and she looked unsure about it.

“I’m going to leave this here. Just in case…” she trailed off, a bout of worry crossing her features. “I’ll come check on you again when I can.”

You nodded at her words, but the shock from Nat’s presence and the few sips of broth had taken more energy than you cared to focus on, and you were already sliding back down in bed.

It took her a long time to climb the stairs and shut the door behind her.

It could’ve been days later when you heard the low timber of a voice that wasn’t wholly familiar to you. It scratched some part of your brain, but not enough for you to pinpoint where you’d heard the tone before. Unfamiliar fingers were prodding at your face and neck, and the feel had you frowning in your semi consciousness. 

The man hummed to himself.

He was speaking, but you were in and out of sleep, so you couldn’t tell—nor cared—if he was speaking to you or someone else whose presence you weren’t aware of. A voice spoke back, and both sounded so muffled and far away to you.

You felt those same fingers on other parts of your body, as well as cold metal, and the intense temperature against your warm skin made you jolt a bit. You pushed at the hand, but a voice shushed you, but it didn’t sound close enough to have the intended soothing effect. Words were exchanged again, but you were already falling back asleep.

It was a dreamless sleep, the first in a long time, and it made the passage of time feel like a blink.

A voice so hauntingly and achingly familiar to you reached your ears, and you thought you were dreaming.

“I don’t give a fuck about what Steve would’ve wanted. His wife is healthy and coherent and probably getting ready to give him another Goddamn baby,” the voice hissed, interrupting a smaller more feminine one. “She’s been like this for weeks, and no one said a word to me.”

“Peter-.”

“Dr. Banner should’ve been here weeks ago. I should’ve known about this weeks ago. I should have seen her weeks ago…!”

Sleep was pulling you back in again, and the louder the voice got, the more it started to fade. The wrathful pitch grew higher and higher but also fainter and fainter until it was gone entirely, and sleep welcomed you again.

Your mind was struggling to put pieces together, and in your sleep, you thought to yourself that those words sounded like they came from some demented doppelganger, the tone sounding so much like Peter but not at the same time. You had never heard him so angry, and a voice in your head convinced you that you dreamt it, used to a sweet disposition from your dark captor, the dichotomy of which never failed to throw you into greater mental turmoil.

When your senses came to you again, you felt stronger than you had in probably two months at this point. You weren’t entirely sure, completely confused by the passage of time. The basement smelled different, and even the bed felt different, but as you shifted, you understood why.

The numbness that you had started to find comfort in was gone, and you could feel the bed and pillows and sheets beneath you…and they felt familiar. Too familiar. They felt like home. They felt like the place where you’d spent hours in Peter’s arms and hours sleeping and hours accepting the affections of the man who’d kidnapped you.

You thought you might have conjured the feeling up, but then you inhaled, and Peter’s scent filled your nose, and you thought of the nights he’d slept here alone in your absence. The faintest of touches disturbed the back of your hand, so featherlight that you could almost ignore it, but the slight pressure in your chest wouldn’t let you.

When you opened your eyes, his face was the first thing you saw.

His hair was a little longer, a little curlier and brushing his ears, and his face was as pretty as ever, but the dark circles beneath his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. Had you the strength to move, you would’ve reached out to touch them.

Peter was knelt beside the bed you shared and his hand was in yours and his brown eyes lit up at the sight of your own. His face shifted so suddenly and seamlessly that you would've sworn he’d been smiling at your sleeping face this entire time instead of with that pinched brow and clenched jaw you’d been initially met with.

“Hey,” he softly and slowly greeted, dragging the word out in a whisper. “...my pretty girl.”

You swallowed, blinking a few times before briefly glancing around to confirm you were where you thought you were. Your gaze caught onto the medical equipment by the bed, blinking at the bag two feet above you with unidentifiable liquid in it. You absentmindedly reached up with your free hand as you traced the direction of the tube.

“Hey, hey,” Peter softly admonished, taking your other hand too. “Don’t touch it.”

You looked down at the feeding tube going into your chest, and you felt your heart skip a beat. Confusion filled you, and you were just about to speak when Peter let one of your hands go to take your chin instead. Still in the process of escaping sleep, you could only blink at him, a million questions running through your mind that you didn’t have the capability to voice.

“You’re really weak and…you haven’t been eating,” you watched his face as he said this, and you took note of the dark shadow that passed over his features, and you thought to yourself that perhaps you hadn’t dreamt that interaction at all. “Dr. Banner gave you that because you need to eat.”

Peter appeared to get choked up, and your eyes widened a tad. Sniffing, he rose a bit to press his lips to yours, fingers brushing over your cheek.

“You need to eat, you need all your strength,” you felt his tears on your face. “...because we’re going to have a baby.”

He pulled away only enough to look into your eyes, his own looking between them as he spoke.

“My pretty girl is going to have a baby,” he whispered more to himself than you. “...and you want her to be healthy and fat, don’t you?”

His thumb brushed over your lips, but it was hard to focus on anything he said after ‘baby’.

“I need you both healthy,” he said, voice cracking, and he kissed you again. 

His arms circled around you, and you felt his wet face fall to rest against your neck and shoulder. He kissed the skin there that peeked through above the large shirt, his whispered happy words reaching your ear.

“My baby’s having a baby.”

[obsesssedblerd]

more sukuna with his baby daughter pretty please? 🥺 love the idea of a big evil scary monster being so soft also ily ❤️

Early Mornings

The sound of tiny hands pitter-pattering across the floor wake Sukuna up instantly, and he looks towards the ground to see his daughter crawling towards the bed you two share. When he remembers that she was, in fact, put in her crib last night, he scoffs at her. “How did you escape?” He asks tiredly.

The baby girl stops crawling once she reaches the bed, then smiles when she looks up at her father. She coos, reaching her arms towards him, requesting that he pick her up. Uppies, you called it. 

“That does not answer my question.” 

“Bwah?” she coos again, and Sukuna knows that she means, ‘please?’ from spending countless hours speaking with her.

She pouts cutely, and Sukuna rolls his eyes before giving in, reaching low enough to gently scoop her up in his arm. He carefully places her in between him and you, who is just beginning to wake up. Upon seeing your daughter, you gently smile, still a bit sleepy. “Hi, my sweet girl,” you greet quietly, using a finger to stroke her chubby cheek. “Did you sleep well?”

As the young princess giggles, you look over at Sukuna, who was watching you two closely. You’re always so beautiful, even first thing in the morning when you wake up. “The brat has escaped her enclosure,” he mumbles. 

“...Enclosure?” You snort. “Ryo, please, it’s called a crib. You make it seem like she’s a wild animal.” 

“She may as well be. I knew she’d be crawling around this age, but I wasn’t expecting climbing. That’s the only way she got out. She learns fast.” 

“I expected that,” you say, allowing your daughter to wrap her hand around your finger, her scarlet eyes glimmering with happiness. “She’s the daughter of the king of curses, after all.” The baby yawns, and you laugh quietly, reaching over to your bedside table to grab a spare pacifier. “Someone’s still sleepy. Just wanted to lay down with us, didn’t you?” 

Sukuna watches his daughter crawl across the space between you and him, and he allows her to move into the crook of his large, muscular arm. She curls up and settles there comfortably, and he feels his heart warm at the sight.

She just wanted to sleep with him holding her.

“Aw,” you sigh as the baby’s eyes begin to droop. You place the pacifier in her mouth, which she accepts almost immediately. When she falls asleep, you look at your husband, whose eyes are soft as he stares at the tiny bundle in his arm. “After a little while, I can put her back in her crib,” you offer. 

“No,” he says with a gentle shake of his head, his voice quiet so he doesn’t wake her. “She can remain here. It’s what she wants.” 

You smile sweetly. When it came to your daughter, Ryomen Sukuna was truly powerless.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

a/n: a naga kofi request!

warning: yandere behavior, restricting, double peen

It had been about a year since you had been taken to live with the naga who kept you prisoner. You had done an act of kindness, helping a snake cross the road so it didn’t get hit by oncoming traffic.

Unfortunately, though, a certain someone watched this from the treeline. He seemed almost amazed, realizing that perhaps there were some humans that did not think a snake like creature was a hideous abomination.

No, he soon realized you were nothing like any other human. The naga kept an eye on you, learning your daily schedule, never straying too far from the wooden area outside of your home.

At night he’d slither in, watching over you with possessive yellow eyes.

It wasn’t clear to him if he felt love for you, but the naga knew for sure he wanted nothing more than to have you for his own.

It was clear that soon, he wouldn’t be able to take the distance between you two any longer. He already considered you to be his, a thing he owned and got to do whatever he pleased with.

Late that night, he slithered into your room, his torso leaning against your bed as he took a moment to take in your sleeping face.

You looked peaceful and he could feel your soft and warm breaths against his face. Something about being so close to you had him all excited, his heart thumping painfully in his chest.

Why did he feel so… strange? You made his body heat up, something that shouldn’t be possible for a reptile like himself. But still, he felt warm and fuzzy all over every time he made his way to your bedside.

To keep you asleep while he carried you away, the naga sank his fangs into your neck. His venom could be many things, but tonight he made sure to give you a dose high enough to keep you asleep for a few hours.

Once you were in his den, he set you down on a pile of furs, unable to stop himself from staring at you. His lower body coiled around you tightly.

“So pretty… like a doll…”

While you slept in his arms, he gently brushed back your hair. The naga was being uncharacteristically gentle and tender with your unconscious body, his face nuzzling into your neck.

He was desperate to mark you.

You woke up in a huff, struggling the second you realized something was holding you in a tight grip. He attempted to calm you with soft kisses to your jaw, but when you wouldn’t stop moving he frowned deeply.

It couldn’t be helped, his snake body began to tighten around your body, his fingers working on your clit as he restricted all of your movements.

It was hard to breathe, but he didn’t dare to loosen his grip. You were his, and you’d learn who you belonged to soon enough.

His two cocks bulged against his slit, poking out and rubbing your clothed cunt. Watching your struggling slow down and turn into weak squirming made him hard beyond belief.

“That’s it, pet. Don’t you understand you can’t get away? Just let me make you feel good.”

He pushed your panties to the side. Before, he had planned on starting off gentle. The naga would only push one of his cocks in after fingering your fat, sopping wet cunt until you begged for his second cock.

But now that he had you at his mercy, he couldn’t help but shove both of his cocks inside of you, stretching your poor pussy out and making you tear up.

If only you had struggled a little less, he wouldn’t have been so damn horny. It was all futile, nothing escaped his iron grip.

His cocks were covered in slick as his hips slapped against yours. It was so easy to work you up, playing with your clit made you so, so wet, and you rather enjoyed being completely powerless.

The feeling of his lips and fangs on your neck made you shiver, your breasts being groped and played with roughly as you finally stopped struggling.

At this point you were panting, struggling to take in big breaths as you reached your peak. He was hitting that perfect spot with both cocks, and you were seeing stars.

The two of you came, cum pouring into your womb. He groaned against your neck and continued to thrust into you well after he finished cumming. You could tell he wanted to continue… but it seemed he was being nice to his little mate.

For now.

The naga carried you further into his den, curling around your body too keep you safe from any predators or potential rivals.

His teeth sunk into your flesh multiple times that night. He had to make sure everyone could tell you were his property, his little mate.

“All mine, little one.”

————————

YANDERE TAGLIST: @katerinaval @avalordream @atransmuter @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96 @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @sandramalikstyles-blog @anonymouskiwi @pedropascalbabygirl @flamefoxx @an-ever-angry-bi @bath1lda @ilyanadelarosa @iswearimnotadrugdealer @whysageee

[milo-is-rambling]

Had a nightmare last night that many different large scary animals were trying to break into the house I lived in in New Hampshire and I kept running around and locking doors and screaming and crying and begging for my family to help me and they were just sitting and laughing or sleeping or living their lives and I was watching huge black bears pound on glass sliding doors and fog them up with their breath as they drool over the idea of demolishing my family and there were like big mountain lions finding small holes to crawl through trying to get in and I’m sobbing and bleeding and kicking them and trying to get my family to do something and they don’t even notice and act like I’m crazy

[guiltyc0nscience]

⋆˙⟡ yapper, chris sturniolo

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

synopsis. in which chris is yapping away with his fingers in your mouth because you kept interrupting him.

warnings. gagging, suggestive but no smut.

authors note. this has been sitting in my drafts for quite some time, i completely forgot about this.

“there’s so much shit i need to do for my brand tomorrow, like-“ chris says but being cut off by your voice for the fifth time and he’s only been talking for ten minutes.

“oh my god. i’m so excited for you to release the new items, they’re all so cute.” you gush with excitement as you think about the baby tees and hoodies chris has designed.

“yeah. i think this will be the-“ chris attempts to talk but gets cut off by you, yet again.

“that baby pink baby tee? that looks like heaven. it’s so cute, i can’t wait to-.” you say, but quickly stop as you turn to chris and see the unamused look on his face.

“what’s the problem, baby?” you ask furrowing your brows.

“you. you’re the problem at the moment, actually.” he says with a smirk growing on his face as he trails his hand up your arm, holding his hand in place when it reaches your jaw, “you’ve interrupted me so many times.” he whispers, leaning his face closer to yours as he moves his ring and middle finger up to yours lips.

you and chris kept intense eye contact as he pushes his fingers into your mouth until the lay flat in the middle of your tongue.

his finger’s sit in your mouth for a moment before he pushes them the slightest bit further in. “i swear you never let me talk.” his icy blue eyes stay locked on yours as he moves his fingers just a little more.

when he finally stills his fingers in your mouth, you attempt to talk again, “i do, i let you talk all the time” you try to say but it comes out muffled.

“all the time?” chris repeats back with a scoff, his fingers moving ever so slightly in your mouth, clearly not believing you. he knows you don’t ever let him talk. he just loves any excuse to tease you.

“maybe not all the time, but most of the time” you say but when you do chris plunges his fingers to the back of your throat, causing you to gag on his fingers and tears fill your eyes. and when they do chris pulls his fingers back to sit on your tongue, “now let me talk” he says.

his fingers sit with a little more pressure on your tongue as he waits for you to nod in agreement, watching the tears form in your eyes as you try to recover from the gag. he knows you’ll agree, you always agree.

you slowly nod your head. chris smirks then continues talking, “now you’re finally letting me get a word in. so yeah, the new drop is in about two weeks so i have a bunch of shit i need to sort between now and then.”

his fingers sit still in your mouth as he talks, his other hand that’s around your waist moving up and down your side gently. while his fingers don’t move, they do apply more pressure as he talks, making it harder and harder for you to concentrate on what he’s saying.

chris has yapped and yapped for the past 15 minutes with no interruptions, due to obvious reasons.

you let out a hum as chris brings up something you really want to talk about, but he glares at you and pushes his fingers further down your throat, causing you to gag again.

he smirks as you gag around his fingers again, he’s got such power over you at the moment as he’s in full control. every time you moan, hum, or try to say something, he gags you again. he knows there’s something you want to ask, and he finds this whole situation way too amusing, “there something you want to say, baby?” he taunts with a sly smirk on his face.

he watches intently as you hum and moan around his fingers, his smirk never leaving his face. he loves how powerless you are right now. no matter how hard you try to talk, his fingers will always stop you, and it makes him so amused. he knows that there’s something you want to ask, and he’s fully enjoying taunting you.

“sorry baby, it’s my turn to talk. not yours. but you’ll get your chance later, just not now.” he says in a mocking tone. chris lets out a small chuckle as he watches you struggle. he knows how badly you want to ask him the question, but he’s loving this too much to give you the chance too. “you’re just gonna have to wait a while, baby. i still have more to say. don’t worry.”

he continues rambling on for another ten minutes. this time he only had to gag you twice, unlike last time he had to do it countless times. you really wanted to talk so you brung your hand up to chris’ hand that is in your mouth and attempt to pull it away from your mouth, which chris doesn’t like.

as soon as your hand comes up to his, he pulls it back and pushes his fingers even further in your mouth, his smirk growing as he watches you. he lets out a small huff, “no, princess, don’t try that. this is my turn to talk, not yours. you don’t listen. i have to remind you who’s in charge, don’t i?” he says in a mocking tone.

you look up at him with pleading eyes, silently begging him to let you talk.

chris looks down at you, seeing your pleading eyes and he feels his heart fluttering. every time you look at him like that, he just wants to give in and do anything for you. but not this time, though. no, no, no. right now he’s enjoying how much control he has, and he isn’t giving that up. “ah, princess, baby. stop looking at me like that. that’s not gonna work this time. i’m in charge right now.”

your body deflates when he says that. you really thought chris was going to let talk this time, but you were wrong.

chris notices your body deflates, seeing you give up. he lets out a soft chuckle; the whole situation was so amusing to him. he’s got you right where he wants you - at his mercy. he loves having power over you like this; it’s such a huge turn on for him. he can’t help but tease you a little bit more. “aww, princess. did you really think i was gonna let you talk? after all the times you’ve cut me off? that’s really cute.”

[luveline]

hi jade I would love to see spencer post mexico with a BAU intern who’s nervous about her first few weeks, maybe he makes it his mission to see her settle in? 

ty for requesting! fem, 1.2k

“I still can’t believe I missed out on working with Aaron Hotchner.” 

Spencer nods as he stirs a spoon around his fiftieth cup of tea this week. “It’s genuinely a shame. And he worked here for more than half of the BAU’s lifespan, so if you look at it through a–”

“Mathematical standpoint?” you ask. 

“Exactly. It’s a statistical improbability to work at the BAU without him. Even when he wasn’t unit chief, he was still a profiler.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek, glaring down at a tray of coffee and tea, your note resting beside it. 

“If Aaron were here,” Spencer says, taking his spoon to the sink for a quick rinsing, “he’d tell you that you don’t have to make the coffee for everyone. You don’t have to ask who wants a cup every time you make one. That’s… not very American.” 

“Who cares about being American? I’m trying to be polite.” 

“You’re being taken advantage of.” 

“Thank you for helping.” 

Spencer has taken the tea side of things. “You’re welcome.” And he knows a part of him has changed now after the last few shitty months, a confidence at having seen the worst scenario of your life playing out while you’re completely powerless to stop it, but Spencer has friends who love him, and he’s not really as powerless as he thinks. So when he looks at you and he thinks about how worried you are every day that you aren’t doing enough to belong here, he knows he can change that. “Maybe tomorrow, you can make coffee for you and nobody else.” 

“They like me.” 

“Well, yeah, but everyone will like you tomorrow when they have to make their own coffee.” 

You slow your stirring. Under your lashes, your eyes carry a dark sort of glow, mid-lit kitchen and— Spencer doesn’t know for sure, but he thinks you might have the loveliest eyes in Virginia. “Is it really stupid of me?” you ask quietly. 

Spencer shakes his head. 

Your shoulders relax. You’re wearing this cutesy long sleeve shirt, cream with black piping along the neckline cross-crossing below your chest with a little black bow nestled at the valley, accentuating the line of your shoulders, and the lengths of your arms. Spencer tries not to stare, but you catch his looking and peer down. “What?” you ask. 

“Nothing.”

“Do I have coffee on me?” 

“No.” 

“Spencer, were you…” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” he says, glad to hear you laughing, then, to know that you know he’s not a perv. “I was just thinking that I like your blouse.” 

“Blouse. You must be older than you look, Dr. Reid.” 

“How old do I look?” 

You huff a laugh under your breath and pick up your tray of coffee. “I’m gonna start passing these out. You don’t have to do the tea, I’ll come back.” 

There’s far less tea than coffee. “No, I can do it.” 

You nod with determination and turn away. ”Thank you!” you call as you go. 

Spencer takes the tea out. The second to last is for Emily, who’s digging at her forehead with a fisted hand when he gets through the door of her office. “Hey, Em,” he says quietly. 

“Spence.” 

“Brought your tea.”

“Jesus, thank you.” 

He lingers by her desk, glancing over her things. She kept some of Hotch’s stuff before he left. Spencer knows she can’t part with the photo of the group of them at their favourite bar a few months after JJ had Henry, even if she made a bunch of jokes after Hotch left it behind. Good boss, terrible guy. How could he just leave this here? 

Spencer sees it as a passing of the baton. You’re in charge. “You okay?” 

“Headache.” 

“PMS?” 

“Sure, but you shouldn’t ask me that, Spencer,” she says, laughing and taking her mug of tea eagerly. 

“You’re always tired at the start.” 

“Can you stop? You’re being creepy.” 

“Did you want a hug?” 

Emily sips her tea. “Mm, ask me later. So, who made this?” 

“Me. Why?” 

“The new girl steeps it for too long.” 

“Come on, don’t call her that.” 

Emily’s brows rise. “I don’t. To her face, I don’t. She is the new girl, though.” 

“I think she’s more than aware of it.” 

“Oh, you have a big crush on her, huh?” Emily leans back in her chair, her dark hair curled lightly against her shoulders. “She’s pretty.” 

“If it were that easy, I’d have a crush on you.” 

“You don’t?” 

Spencer rolls his eyes lovingly. On the landing, he looks out over the office and follows you moving from desk to desk. You’re quick, and you sit at your own desk to dive back into ViCAP chores glaringly without your own cup of tea or coffee. 

Emily’s right. He does have a crush on you. But it’s not something any of his friends need to know yet. He knocks Luke’s desk lightly as he passes and grabs his tea where it’s still steaming on his own. As he comes up behind you, he notices your fingers clenching and unclenching on your thigh, the tight knot of your neck. God, he’s not good at this, but he’s gonna try. 

“Hey, angel?” he asks quietly. 

You don’t realise he’s talking to him for a few seconds, then your head tips back, and you’re all softness in the April gloom when you smile shyly. “Yeah?” 

“Tea.”

Your lips part. “Oh. Oh, thank you. I forgot my coffee.” 

“Tea has an amino acid called L-theanine. It’s rare in that it can actually cause relaxation in the body. In comparison, coffee–”

“Sucks?” 

He grins. “Sucks. S’that why you forgot yours?” 

“I forgot mine ‘cos Anderson looked like he was gonna collapse, he’s so tired. Is that my future?” 

“Maybe. But it’s worth it. If you can’t do it that’s fine, obviously, the turnover rate isn’t exactly low, Emily told you that herself. But it’s worth it, I promise.” 

You hold his gaze. “I know.” 

Spencer clasps your shoulder, tentative and deliberate at once. He feels the bone when he squeezes, but he doesn’t do it too hard. 

“Sorry about all the fuss.” 

He strokes your arm with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he says, hand falling down the curve of your shoulder to warm your upper arm, “I don’t mind it.” He takes his touch away, not necessarily because he wants to. It’s too early to know what you’re feeling; he hasn’t learned your tells or whiles yet, but he hopes he will. 

Your face drifts toward your shoulder, as though following his touch unconsciously. Spencer’s heart races like a blinker circuit at the thought. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “I appreciate it, Spencer. All your help. I really do.” 

“You’re more than welcome.” 

As he stands up, he rubs your shoulder again, a half a seconds touch he thinks Hotch would be proud of, if he were still there to see it. 

(And you —ViCAP is kicking your ass and the smell of coffee makes your head hurt, but your hot new coworker makes each day easier, ‘cos he touches like he talks. Soft, and gentle, and eager to please.)

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐹𝑎𝑒

Warning: sexual content, age gap (20–???), r4pe, noncon, breeding kink, forced breeding, gagging, choking, spell, mass murder, death of children, black flag oc.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★ @minshookie29 ★ @rosey1981 ★ @thejadevvitch ★ @jellystar-star ★ @sparklystrawberrycloud ★ @cutelittlesugarfairy ★

Divider credits: @cafekitsune ★ @bernardsbendystraws ★

Masterlist

Yandere Fae who has known you since you were a little girl when you wandered into his forest chasing a butterfly.

Yandere Fae who was tempted to kill you when you entered their territory; but he didn't do it since he was surprised by the fact that you passed without any problem the magical barrier that was holding him.

Yandere Fae who for some reason and against his or her better judgment ends up playing with you; He sits on the soft moss-covered ground while you cheerfully arrange flowers and leaves in his long white hair.

Yandere Fae who feels a little disappointed when you tell him you have to come home or your parents will scold you; He acts indifferent and tries to forget what happened, only to be pleasantly surprised when you return the next day.

Yandere Fae who begins meeting with you every day in the same place, but first makes you promise never to tell other humans about his existence.

Yandere Fae who feeds you candy in exchange for promising that you will be his in the future when you grow up and you happily promise it just wanting to eat more of those delicious candy; unaware of the huge mistake you made.

Yandere Fae who during one of those encounters ends up asking you your name and you innocently give it to him, ignoring the enormous and absolute power you have given him over you.

Yandere Fae who scares you to no end when he kills a man who followed you when you went to see him; Although you don't know it, he could see the bad intentions in the heart of the man who followed you.

Yandere Fae who tries to stop you when you run towards your house sobbing, but you sneak outside the barrier and he can't follow you; He waits for you to come back the next day to console you but you don't come back, you don't come back that day, nor the next, nor the next...

Yandere Fae who waits 15 long years with his sanity completely broken to be able to see you again, he feels betrayed and upset by the fact that you disappeared without a trace, leaving him alone again.

Yandere Fae who one day finally gains enough strength to break the barrier that holds him and keeps him chained to the clearing, now that he is free he only has one thing on his mind (besides giving you your rightful place at his side, obviously) to find and punish his disobedient wife for being so cruel.

After destroying your village and cruelly slaughtering all the inhabitants, not even caring about the children, he broke into your humble home and killed your parents when they tried to attack him to protect you. He also killed your innocent little sister right before your eyes. A muffled scream escaped your parched lips, and he approached you, taking you tightly in his arms before throwing you over his shoulder, carrying you to the forest clearing where you two had first met.

You tried to fight him off, twisting and kicking your legs to try and escape. Your fists pounded against his back, but the attempt was pathetic at best. Frustrated by your stubbornness, he muttered something in a language you couldn't understand, and suddenly your body felt heavy and powerless. When they finally reached the clearing he placed you on the soft mattress of moss that covered the floor.

“I apologize for the spell, but your unpleasant attitude was beginning to tire me, dear wife.”

His voice comes out soft as velvet almost like a mockery as his long, pale fingers trace the contour of your face, his long, sharp nails leaving red trails on the skin of your cheeks but stopping short of cutting the skin.

“I'm not your wife! You... are a monster!”

You try to put all your hate into your voice so he can see how upset you are about all of this, about everything he caused, but your voice sounds more like a muffled stutter, your tongue heavy with the disturbing fullness you feel in your body and mind.

“Ha ha ha! You're very funny, dear wife, but you shouldn't say things like that... your husband might get very upset, and who knows what he'd do to you?”

His laughter cuts off abruptly and his voice turns terrifyingly serious; you can't help but shudder in fear; He takes your silence as a sign of submission, so he wastes no time and begins to remove the simple dress you're wearing. His long nails cut through the fabric with terrifying ease. When your body is exposed to his eyes his hands travel to your breasts and he squeezes firmly.

“Such beautiful tits, you've become a real beauty... you're a work of art, all for your husband to enjoy, aren't you, dear wife?”

When you purse your lips, refusing to respond, he lets out a dark laugh; He looks at you with half-closed eyes, a wicked smile slipping onto his lips before he takes your nipples between his ring and index fingers, tugging firmly at your nubs, hardened by the cold, making you let out a stifled gasp and a shiver running down your spine.

“You are a fighter my dear wife and I really can't wait to see you break down and accept your destiny at my side~”

He wastes no time and opens his pants releasing his hard member; the pale length is adorned with a pink mushroom head and glistening pearls of precum at the tip. He pumps his cock with one of his hands while rubbing tight circles on your pussy with the other, being careful not to cut yourself with his nails. you feel a hot shame as your body reacts to his caresses, your pussy slowly getting wet almost dripping with love juices.

“Awww, look at that, my dear wife. Your pussy cries for me. Maybe your foolish mind won't accept its place, but your pretty body certainly will. At least this little pussy is honest with me.”

You frown at his teasing comment, letting out a gasp as two of his fingers delve into your tight heat, his fingers rubbing against your warm, wet inner walls. He leans over you, getting closer to your ear and you can't help but shiver when he speaks and his warm breath hits your skin.

“We'll have even more fun when I take you to the Fae realm with me. With my kind around, you'll think twice about doing something stupid, my dear wife.”

He laughs darkly and removes his fingers from your pussy, your sticky fluids cover his fingers and he smiles before putting them in his mouth cleaning them, when he removes them he murmurs a “delicious~” before taking his cock in his hand guiding it towards your sensitive pussy, you close your eyes as he rubs his fat mushroom head against your wet folds for a few seconds before sliding inside you.

“What a tight pussy you have, dear wife~ you feel like paradise, the wait was worth it ~”

He savors the feeling of your pussy squeezing his cock, your walls throb trying to adapt to his thick circumference, he gives you a few tentative thrusts before beginning to thrust into you firmly, you release gasps and moans at the pain mixed with the pleasure you feel, he notices the outline of his cock that is marked on your belly with each thrust, smiling his hands grab your waist and squeeze the bulge.

“You really are a sweet little thing, aren't you? Look at my cock pushing its way and abusing your pussy, I can't wait to see my son growing inside you, dear wife.”

He laughs darkly at his own words, one of his hands moves up to your chest squeezing your nipple hard twisting it between his fingers, his balls slapping again and again against your plush ass, you feel dizzy at the feeling of his fat cock hitting your cervix along with his fingers pinching your sore nipple, your toes tighten and you roll your eyes lost in pleasure.

“You're really enjoying this aren't you? Of course if I look at your fucked up face, it's very sensual you really know how to drive me crazy, you're really a little slut ~”

He releases your nipple and brings his fingers to your half-open mouth, you choke when he puts two fingers inside, flattening your tongue, he laughs pleased when you suck on his fingers clumsily, his other hand rubs circles over your pussy, your trembling legs tighten around his waist, bringing him closer to you.

He presses himself onto you even more, his fingers are stuck so deep in your throat that you gag, he takes his fingers out of your mouth just grabbing your legs, unwrapping them from his waist and opening them firmly giving him room to fuck you even deeper, his cock goes in and out of your weeping pussy over and over again, his cock throbs as his release approaches.

“I'm going to cum deep inside you and give you the blessing of being the mother of my children, you know my parents had many children... I have forty-three brothers and sisters, but I'm sure that you and I will have even more than that, my dear ~”

With those words and a few erratic thrusts he comes, he buries himself deep inside you while ropes and ropes of his thick semen fill your rubbery uterus and fertilize you, he hardly seems agitated unlike you who is blushing, disheveled and drooling beneath him, he keeps his cock inside you although a little of his semen overflows and falls to the ground beneath you causing many small flowers to grow quickly, he looks at your eyes, your pupils are a dull gray due to the spell, he can't help but smile.

“I think I went a little overboard with the effect of the spell, I should have known that your weak human mind would go a little crazy, but I will take advantage of your good will until the spell fades and returns to you.”

[allfearstofallto]

When you rant to Wanderer about wanting to see the sky, his expression changes for a moment. A subtle change to one of confusion, like you've gone crazy before him. You met his gaze with one of your own before shaking your head quickly at his misunderstanding.

"Not like that!" You correct him while holding his shoulders and shaking him in the way you know that he hates, though he never stops you, "I want to see the sky the way you do! I know I can look up, but you could touch it if you wanted to!"

Visionless and powerless, you were unable to do the things Wanderer did. You were unable to float in the air or command the wind. You watch him fly high up into the air once when he was defending you from a hilicurl camp and the sight was breathtaking. Envy pangs your heart as he performed in your eyes, free as a bird, free as the wind, with the show ending by his feet gracefully hitting the griund. You didn't long for a vision, that was too much pressure, but for just one moment you wanted to be up there like him.

"It's cold up there," was all he said in his usual uninterested tone, brushing your hands off of him and focusing instead back on the way the blades of grass beneath his bottom swayed in he breeze. You tried not to pout, knowing that he would tease you if you did, but his immediate rejection angered you.

You went to shake him again, to force him to listen to you, before a strong gust of wind nearly knocked you off your feet. Papers and leaves scattered in the air and swirled around your form as the wind grew ever stronger and stronger. Until you felt weightless. Until you couldn't feel the ground under yourself. It should've been scary, horrifying even, looking down and seeing the grass grow farther and farther away, knowing that a fall from this height would kill you, if not permanently alter the course of your life. It should've put the fear of death into your heart, but you couldn't bring yourself to do anything except laugh.

Because beneath you, while still trying to look like he didn't care for the whole ordeal, Wanderer was swaying his thin wrist back and forth, making the wind hold your for a few breaths longer. You touched the sky as you wanted to. Or as close as he'd let you, but that was still close enough. He was keeping you safe, even if he himself refused to acknowledge such a thing. Keeping you safe while indulging one of your many whims.

You sank down to the ground a fear heartbeats later, even though a part of you longed to live up in the clouds. Of course, the landing wasn't something you'd perfected, and instead of standing on your feet, you gracelessly plopped down on your rear, a little closer to him than you had been before. The grass was tickling your palms and the smile on your face was painful, yet you couldn't force it away even as you tried.

"How was it?" He questioned, his voice tender, like a breathe of wind blowing into your ears.

"It was cold," you chuckled, earning a rare, but small smile from him.

He laid back on the grass, his hat haphazardly tossed to the side. He spared one glance at you, one look and his face was just a few shades redder than before.

"I told you so,"

[radlovesfics]

ok but what if the Variants had their own version of childhood best friend reader where they DID meet and fall in love (somehow bc we freaky like that) except in every reality besides mainstream you:

Die to Nolan/ Get mercy killed/Eaten bc u know cannibalism and love metaphor or u die before he can do that/ get a terminal illness/ overall just something horrible happens and ur gone and it’s BC OF THAT the variants go “fuck it we ball” cuckoo bananas then after going to mainstream marks world are like “wtf u get to have her but alive???? naw that’s not fair “ and just basically it’s a free for all or with their collective crazy caveman brain they decide some sort sharing custody agreement LMFAO

OR LIKE ANOTHER SCENARIO WHERE U

still fall in love with mark in every reality but mainstream Mark is the only one where he pushes u away for ur own safety and won’t tell u the reason why (if he’s just not told u about his powers) or if he decides to be like fake mean and nasty and pulls a “you’re just a distraction and make me weak” *cut to him flying away sobbing like a baby bc he didn’t wanna do it but felt like he had to* so u hate him and love him but also hate him so much and now all these variants are pulling up and mainstream mark realizes he’s FUCKED when all these other assholes are obsessed and hellbent on finding u bc why would they not love u to their fullest ability?? they’re too selfish for that so queue funny/horrible interactions with all of them bc you’re still so mad and pissed at mark but also so in love with him it’s insane

Same scenario but kinda different: let’s say like u had ur own powers and could actually go toe to toe with mark and that shit he pulls pisses u off BAD bc u can take care of urself!! like mark gets u angry enough to attack him/make u hate him bc he’s such a martyr ofc and u fuck him up!! u both never interact again in any positive form and idk if he still gets with eve here but there’s def still pinning on his end for u anyway ofc the variants invade and reader gets sent out to deal with them while mark is MIA and maybe the variants’ reader was weak/powerless in every reality except the mainstream one so this is like. hard drugs for these crazy marks who are like “oh my god you’re so hot please beat me” u know?? and ofc u do bc u hate mark here and take out ur aggression on them

but I’d like to think (for added drama) ur superhero costume involves a mask to hide your identity and since ur were weak/dead in their realities, as these variants are fighting u they have no idea who u are and are not going easy or pulling punches and are being just awful but u know!! one sends ur mask flying or breaks it somehow and suddenly everything comes to a dead stop and whichever one ur fighting will freeze in disbelief bc wtf this is the loml??? the last person they expected ?? and she’s so strong?? and even more amazing than they remembered ??? u however will not give an actual shit and continue beating their variant asses as they all immediately change their attitude when fighting u and it’s just a LOT of flirting/ snarky compliments/ actually mark being gross and horny on main but this obvs sets u off and they realize mainstream mark never ended up with u and u in fact HATE him as they witness u literally crush one of themselves and well obvs they see themselves as better to the mainstream mark so they’re like “ok we can work with this :)” and blah blah blah run a train on u, kidnap u, lotta hate sex, whatever

and for the mainstream mark (to those that love him including myself): the above scenario ends with him trying over and over to save u and finally some epic and dramatic love confession with lots of yelling and then y’all fight together and have ur cute wholesome reunion and then fuck like crazy LMAOOO

I need to be sedated

[ceilidho]

fear of god

There's someone outside the spacecraft. You don't remember them being part of the crew. Part 11 masterlist

-

The ship is big enough to get lost in, just like your mind.

You open your eyes and you’re back in your room. The lights are off. You feel around the wall for the light switch and when it comes on, it temporarily blinds you; you wince against the burning light. The faint remnants of a dream on the verge of slipping away lingers on the edges of your conscious mind. 

A man stands at the end of a long corridor, shrouded in darkness.

You are powerless to stop him unless he wants to be stopped.

Shaking. When you look down at yourself, you realize you’re shaking, your pinkie trembling independently of the rest of your hand though the tremor soon spreads to your other fingers. 

How did I get here? You want to ask but there’s no one around to receive the question. The door to your room is sealed shut. Looking around the room reveals nothing amiss or out of place. Even your clothes are neatly folded on your desk, and you’re clad in your pajamas as if you’d already gone through your whole nighttime routine. 

The sheets are rumpled and warm from your body, meaning that you’ve been in bed for some time. The problem is that you don’t remember returning to your room or tucking yourself into bed. The last thing you remember is Gaz taking your face in hand and promising you—

Your brows knit together as you rack your brain.

—promising you something. 

You rack your brain harder, searching for a memory that slips further and further away with each passing second. You remember Farah and doubles and your ship hurtling through empty space, and then a sickle slices through your memories and lops it off. 

Your lips tingle when you press your fingers to them. Something here too, but it slips from you when you try to fit your hands around it. 

Sleep knocks at the door of your mind though, putting off anymore thoughts of what you’re forgetting. Maybe in the morning it’ll come back to you.

In your dreams, he appears again, hovering over you this time, thick thighs on either side of your hips. Skin darker under the cloak of darkness. His plush lips part when you touch your fingers to them and he kisses each pad delicately, reverently. 

Your body feels warm and weightless; sticky between your legs. A pulsing pleasure like nothing you’ve ever experienced, desperate for him to tuck his hands under your back and draw you up into his chest. 

I’ve been waiting a very long time for something like you, he whispers against your fingertips. 

And you want to whisper back, what will you do now that you’ve found me? But when you open your mouth, all that comes out is ash and dust.

By the following morning, Hadir is sick.

You find out in the middle of brushing your teeth when Graves summons you to the medbay over the intercom, giving you only the briefest of explanations before his voice cuts out with a crackle. A line of toothpaste and drool drips down your chin as you stare up at the speaker in the corner of your room, dread pooling in your belly. Even from the outset, you know this can’t be any good. 

That feeling follows you all the way to the medical unit, shoving your arms into your lab coat sleeves while speed walking down the hall and wondering what you’ll find waiting for you. That’s where you find the three of them—Farah and Graves flanking the examination table where Hadir is laid out, the flush and sweat on his face visible from across the room. 

“What happened?” you ask, hurrying over to his side. You drag the computer over with you, the arm it’s attached to gliding over to the exam table. 

“He’s been like this all morning,” Farah explains in a terse voice, not meeting your eyes. “I went to check on him when he didn’t show up for breakfast.”

“Hadir?” Speaking directly to him now, you soften your voice, trying to gauge his mental state. Pupils of uneven size lazily roam around until they land on you. “Hadir, how’re you feeling?”  

His lips are dry when he parts them, and though he stares at you uncomprehendingly for long enough to worry you, he eventually responds with a raspy, “…Bad.”

That gets a shallow laugh out of you. “Yeah, I figured.”

The fever is obvious. What’s less obvious is the cause of his fever. You run through your usual preliminary tests, but nothing seems to stick. There’s a waxy sheen to his skin and boils under his arms that make you think bacterial infection, but coupled with his other symptoms—the fever and nausea—you err on the side of caution and take a few blood samples, plugging in the command for a CT scan. 

“I can page you when his results are in if you’d like” you let Farah and Graves know, looking at them from over your shoulder, the two of them still standing by Hadir’s bedside and watching you intently. “You don’t have to stay for this. It’ll be a little while until I know what’s going on.”

“Farah will stay,” Graves states. The look he sends her feels pointed and you don’t know if you like it. 

Something unsaid passes between their eyes. Excluded from their exchange, all you can do is focus on your work to quell the anxiety brewing in you. 

“Alright,” you assent, practically mumbling the word under your breath. 

Graves leans over Hadir’s prone form to whisper something into his ear before straightening and leaving without another word, not issuing you so much as a glance.

A tense silence fills the room. You try not to let it get to you at first, concentrating more on putting the blood samples into the centrifuge and setting up the scanner. After yesterday though, your tolerance for bullshit is low, almost nonexistent. You can only take Farah’s gaze boring into your back for so long before you snap. 

“What?” you finally ask, your voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

Farah doesn’t answer for a moment, considering whether or not to broach the subject.

“You ran away yesterday,” she finally says. A statement rather than a question.  

You’d been bracing yourself for this exact moment, but when it arrives, you flounder a bit. Tongue heavy and nerves electric. Rooting around in your brain for an answer that doesn’t make you come off as paranoid and crazy when you’ve already revealed your hand to her. 

“I wasn’t feeling well.” You keep it simple. Tell her nothing that she doesn’t already know. 

“You went back to your room then?”

“Yeah. I just needed to rest.”

She lets the silence hang in the air, long enough for you to worry that you’ve miscalculated in lying to her. There’s no sense in telling her the truth though. Even now, you can’t be sure of who you’re speaking to. 

That thought sits like a stone in your belly. 

“We still need to have that conversation.”

She dislocates himself from your peripheral vision when she takes a step away, forcing you to turn your head to find her. “There’s more to talk about?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?”

“You’re going around saying Gaz isn’t human and that we had conversations that I don’t remember ever having with you, and now my brother’s sick. I’d say there’s more to talk about.” 

“I made a mistake,” you lie, hoping that you can put on a convincing enough face. “The other day, I mean, when I said that to Hadir about Gaz. Obviously Gaz is a human. Maybe I was getting sick too.”

“That would be awfully convenient,” she responds blandly. 

“Convenient?” you repeat, frowning.

A sudden antagonistic turn to the conversation. Real or not, it’s been in the air for weeks now, maybe months. Your blood goes hot beneath your collar. Not once has she given you any semblance of grace or leeway. Like you can only do wrong; like she expects treachery or disappointment or worse from you. 

Then someone breaks the tension by coughing. 

“Can…you two…stop arguing?” Hadir rasps, dragging your attention back down to him on the exam table. 

“Sorry,” Farah murmurs to her brother. She slips her hand into his and gives it a squeeze.

You apologize under your breath to him as well, shedding the last of your annoyance. There’ll be a time for that later. Now, you have a patient to tend to. 

The day does not improve from that point on. 

Though you spend hours pouring over Hadir’s blood samples and the cross-sectional images from his CT scan, you can’t figure out what’s wrong with him, all of his results coming back ostensibly normal even though his condition continues to visibly deteriorate. By mid afternoon, his skin is abnormally hot and you sponge his skin with lukewarm water to try and keep him cool while running more tests. His fever holds steady.

You order an MRI on top of his other tests, waiting impatiently for his results only for those images to come back normal as well. Test after test comes back with the same answer. Though Hadir’s white blood cell count is higher than normal, his body doesn’t appear to be fighting anything in particular. 

He becomes less responsive around lunchtime, which doesn’t worry you until it gets harder and harder to get him to open his eyes and grumble out more than a couple words at a time. 

You can feel Farah’s frustration and worry rise as the hours pass. For a time, she’s called away by Nikolai to help work on something else, but she comes back as soon as her work is done, the soft whoosh of the door behind you alerting you to her presence. 

“How’s he doing?” she asks quietly on her return. 

You breathe out heavily, your mask making your breath blow down over your chin. “He’s still running a fever. I have him on an IV to make sure he’s still getting fluids in his system in the meantime.”

Farah idles closer to Hadir’s bedside, gazing down at him almost tenderly. You can almost see the effort it takes her to keep her face neutral. “Is he…in any pain?”

That question is hard to answer. Though all of Hadir’s tests have come back fairly positive—no sign of infection or internal bleeding or anything that could account for his outward symptoms—you haven’t been able to elicit a response from him in hours, not since he was first admitted into your care. Every so often, he grumbles out a couple words, but that’s hardly enough to alleviate your worry. The only comfort you can offer her is that you haven’t been able to detect anything that would be causing him any pain. 

You’re not sure if that comes as much of a relief to Farah when Hadir’s brow quivers and sweat beads on his upper lip.

The situation bleeds from one day into the next. You sleep on a cot in the medical unit instead of returning to your room, setting multiple alarms in order to check on Hadir periodically throughout the night. You try to convince Farah to go back to her room to get some sleep, but when she doesn’t make any indication of leaving, you relent and pull out a cot for her as well. 

Hadir is no better in the early hours of dawn when you check his temperature and vitals again, but he’s not any worse either. Stable doesn’t mean good though. 

It’s only when Graves joins the two of you around midafternoon that the situation turns dire. 

“Well, doc?” he asks after returning from speaking quietly with Farah outside the medbay. “What’s wrong with him?”

His and Farah’s continued presence shouldn’t bother you as much as it is. You know it’s only natural considering this is the first time anyone on board has been sick since you departed Earth. It’s cause for some concern. 

“No prognosis yet,” you sigh. “I’ve done every single test I could possibly think of but there doesn’t seem to be anything actually causing his fever.”

Graves looks unimpressed with your answer. “How long’s Hadir been here—ten hours? And you still don’t have a single clue what might be wrong with him?”

You should’ve assumed his question wouldn’t be in good faith from the way he initially ignored you to call Farah into the hall for a chat. You bristle at his words though, stomach roiling. 

“It may not be a simple answer,” you say through grit teeth. “I’ll keep looking until I can figure out what’s causing this, but in the meantime, he’s getting fluids and rest and I’m making sure he stays stable.”

“Where are all of his test results anyway? Any x-rays I can look at?” Graves asks, meandering over to the counter running along the wall. 

There’s a stack of papers on the counter nearest him that he flips through. You bite your tongue to keep from asking him if he even knows what he’s looking at, choosing instead to just silently hand him Hadir’s scans. He inspects each scan for barely a few seconds before shuffling it to the back of the pile. 

He shuffles through the pile twice before slapping them back down on the counter. “Okay, maybe this’ll be easier if you just explain it to us.”

You’d laugh but it’s hard to find humour in the situation with the two of them staring at you with such obvious disaffection. Instead, you walk them through the tests you’ve ordered and all of Hadir’s results, taking the time to ensure that they understand the purpose of each test and your thought process behind it. 

Graves’ face says he still doesn’t get it. “Well, if Hadir’s fine, why isn’t he getting better? Not to point out the obvious, doctor, but he looks like shit.”

“…I’d tell you if I knew, but as you can see from his scans—”

“Which I’m still waiting for you to explain.”

“—as you can see from his scans, I haven’t been able to find anything actually wrong with him. Apart from his white blood cell count, which is a bit high—which could mean an infection somewhere, but I haven’t been able to find anything yet.”

“You know,” Graves starts, drawing out each word. “Back on Earth, they really sold me on your skills when I was picking through resumes for our staff media, but I gotta say, doc…I’m not seeing much to be impressed with now.”

You balk at his words, struggling at first to form a coherent response. “I’m…sorry to hear that, sir. I’m doing my best.”

“And none of this has anything to do with the other day?”

Your blood goes cold. “What exactly are you trying to say?”

“I’m just trying to figure out if something might be impacting your judgment.”

“Like what?”

Your raised voices must be audible from the hall because Alex enters a few minutes later, followed by Nikolai and Gaz, the latter of which you studiously avoid making eye contact with. 

Ever the blunt one, Nikolai is the first to speak. “Why all the yelling? We heard you from practically down the hall. Hadir is not dying, no?”

It’s so much worse to do this in front of a crowd; it’s like something out of your worst nightmare, all of them gathered on one side of the room and you on the other, divided even physically. 

“I’m just trying to figure out if there’s something the doctor isn’t sharing with us,” Graves says, eyes still locked on you. 

Your jaw hangs loose at the implication. “You’re not serious. Are you implying that I did something to Hadir? I didn’t make him sick,” you say, emphasizing the absurdity of the claim being levied against you.

“But you’re also not helping him get better. And that’s what we’re concerned about.”

“I can’t just snap my fingers and fix someone! It takes time—”

“You’ve had over twenty-four hours—”

Gaz takes a step forward, placing a hand on Graves’ shoulder to calm him down. “Commander, I know tensions are high but…you know she wouldn’t do something like that.”

You have a momentary lapse of gratitude in being defended before the anger rushes back up at the thought that Graves would hold Gaz’s words with more weight than your own. That Gaz would need to defend you in the first place when you half suspect that Graves’ distrust is by his own design. 

Graves’ nostrils flare as he exhales, no longer hurtling accusations at you but still deeply suspicious. 

“Can all of you just leave?” you blurt out, at the end of your rope. “I can’t keep arguing with you while I’m trying to take care of my patient. And it might seem like Hadir can’t hear us, but he’s still very much conscious and all of this is just going to put undue stress on him.”

The five of them stare at you with varying degrees of uncertainty, only Gaz’s expression remaining neutral. 

“I’m not leaving my brother,” Farah states, her distrust unambiguous. It stings. 

“You either have to trust me enough to let me do my job or lock me up if you’re going to keep second guessing me,” you snap. Probably unwise to plant that seed, but anger keeps your common sense at bay. 

“It’s probably not good for you to be here. It won’t make you feel any better,” Alex murmurs. Though it’s mostly hidden from view, you can almost make out the way his hand flutters over her low back.

“I’m not leaving him alone.” Even speaking softly, Farah’s voice reaches your ears from across the room. 

 Your hands clench into fists at your sides. Indignation like you’ve never felt before bubbles up, anger at being treated like the threat in the room. Your eyes cut to Gaz, whose stare hasn’t wavered since he arrived. Waiting for him to say something, to indict you like the rest of them. 

His brows bend in sympathy, but he doesn’t open his mouth. 

It’s Graves who eventually breaks the standoff. “Gaz, I want you to stay here until the doctor’s able to give us a better answer on Hadir’s condition.”

“Commander, I don’t know if that’s necessary—” Gaz interjects, but your fury drowns out his voice.

“You’re leaving me with a guard?” you ask in disbelief. “You can’t seriously think I’m keeping Hadir sick? That’s fucking insane, Graves—I’m a doctor. And moreover, Gaz isn’t even part of the crew—”

“First of all,” Graves cuts you off, a hair from shouting his words. “I won’t have anyone questioning my decisions on this ship. I’m the one who’s in charge around here. Second, Gaz has earned his place on this ship just as much as you have. Maybe more so because at least he’s actually done his fucking job!” 

His outburst stuns you into silence. Stock-still. Your bones creak when you rock back on your heels

Maybe because all this time, they’ve never said it in so many words, though you’ve felt the sentiment creep through the pipes and vents, the metal clanging with the sound of it hidden just behind a wall, just out of reach from you. 

For a second, you can see yourself the way they see you. A feckless, ineffectual crew member who hasn’t been able to pull her own weight. An extra bit of cargo for them to carry to Jupiter. Someone who, for some time now, they haven’t seen as equal to the rest of them.

The edges of goodness curl away from you. You’ve felt isolation before but never to this extent.

And not one of them comes to your defence. You stand there under the scour of their judgment and wait for someone to speak up and say that this has all been blown out of proportion, only for silence to reign supreme. 

“I’ll stay,” Gaz finally says, taking a step towards you and turning to face Graves. Physically putting himself on your side, though his words still align him with the commander. You try not to look as pulverized as you feel—you shouldn’t feel that way anywhere. You know he’s never been on anyone’s side but his own. 

The urge to say or do something you’ll regret is strong. Almost overwhelming. All you can imagine is grabbing a scalpel from the drawer near your hip and driving it right through your commander’s throat, revelling in the soft gurgles and flesh giving under the steel blade. The thought turns over your head until it’s nearly unbearable to keep your hand from trembling. Even the room seems to darken with your thoughts. 

Hadir breathes out shallowly from the exam table behind you. You blink and bite the inside of your cheek. This isn't right; this isn't you. Violence won't do anything out in space.

You know no answer will satisfy them, so you don’t even try, turning your back to Graves and his crew and focusing on your patient instead.

“Let me know if anything comes up,” Graves says, speaking to Gaz instead of you. Humiliation burns like bile at the back of your throat.

You hear Alex whisper c’mon to Farah before the whoosh of the door signals their departure. One by one they leave until only you and Gaz remain, and Hadir, still unconscious on the exam table. 

And all around you, the ship hums as it hurtles farther away from Earth.

[pimento-playing-hopscotch]

OHHHHHH.

One moment while I find that gif of Tom Hanks -

Found it!

OVERHATED CHARACTERS POLL: Owen Strand (9-1-1: Lone Star)

Feel free to explain your position in the comments or tags, but any harassment, over-the-top fighting, or personal attacks will result in you being blocked. Do not attack real people, be they fans or creators, over fictional characters.

[hellisharchive]

Hiii!!! I was wondering if you can do headcanons of what kinky/perv stuff that hazbin men (alastor, Lucifer, husk, Adam, val, etc) often do?

Plus I love your Adam fics!/headcanons

Have good day :3

﹒﹒﹒perversions of the soul

➤ [Separate] Lucifer, Adam, Val, Vox, and Saint Peter [Yall know I couldn't NOT include him, right?]

➤ 18+, sexual scenarios, sexual comments

➤ Hi, thank you for requesting! Because I don't write for Husk or Alastor won't include them, but I'll include the others! It's purely because I don't know how to write them in this way! I hope that's ok! :D

﹒﹒lucifer

He is a thighs man, he will stare at your thighs for hours if you let him. You've caught him so many times looking at your thighs and every time you lightly slap him on the shoulder because you know all he's thinking about is shoving his face in between them.

He loves to whisper dirty nothings into your ear to make you flustered in public, he lives for your reactions and red face as you try to remain calm. Just seeing your reactions and you slowly growing horny is enough to make him hard alone.

While that man can fuck good- he revels in giving oral sex to you whenever he can. He loves eating you out and sucking on you until you're cumming over and over again. He thinks you taste absolutely delicious and can't get enough of you. He's cum-drunk in all sense of the word.

﹒﹒﹒adam

This man isn't as kinky as you would originally think- but still explores sexually occasionally. However, if you got boobs, he will never get enough of them, and will motorboat them even if Lute is around. If you got a dick, best be ready for random crotch feel-ups at any given moment. If you don't have either/or- he will grab and pinch your ass and even smack it until its red.

He is big into you moaning, really big into it. It gets him off so easily, one little moan and he's at full mast. His main goal in bed is making you moan as loud as possible and when you do- well, expect to be getting a creampie.

Loves fangirls/fanguys and if you love him in his band before even personally knowing him, one stop to being given a...private show. He lives to see you get excited for his band and looking down at you from his stage, gives him the biggest serotonin rush (and another kind of rush) that slowly builds up over the course of the night as he gets sweaty and out of breath.

﹒﹒﹒valentino

Let's be real- what kinks doesn't this man have? There's many to chose from, but if I had to pick one- you being weak and powerless under him is one of his favorites. Watching you be completely at his disposal for any reason is a big yes to him.

Degredation is another one, oh boy, he loves making you feel like shit at any chance possible. He will tell you that you're a whore, a dirty slut, only good for being fucked by him and him alone.

He is possesive to the upmost degree and always makes sure to leave his marks all over you so others know that you are his. He always makes sure to parade you around the tower with you by his side so everyone knows not to fuck with you- messing with you or trying to fuck you.

Semi-public sex is his go-to when he needs a quickie, he loves fucking you in spaces where anyone can walk in and see you two going at it. He doesn't care who sees his body, he thinks it's hot as fuck and makes him even harder inside you if he hears someone walking by.

﹒﹒﹒vox

Just like Val- he is extremely possessive of what's his and makes it known. He doesn't display it publicly with you around as to not scare you off, but he makes sure every single person in the tower knows not to even touch you.

Biggest perv imaginable. Will watch you fuck yourself silly with toys even if he's just a room away. He never stops watching you, and I mean never. He always has to keep a close eye on you to make sure you don't fuck anyone else like Val or some ramdon schmuck off the street.

He loves getting his dick sucked above everything else, he loves the feeling of your pretty little lips wrapped around his cock swallowing all his cum down your throat. He loves to see you cry as you try to fit it all down, enjoys wiping them away and telling you that you're doing a good job.

﹒﹒﹒saint peter

That man is as innocent as can be what kinks could be possibly have? Well, he has a dirty little secret- one day he discovered that he got hard seeing you with ice cream all over your mouth and imagined it was cum. Naughty I know! Ever since he has not been able to let that thought go and guiltily imagines you sucking on his...

He always offers you ice cream just to watch you smother it all over your mouth as you eat it and he always acts nervous around you because he oh so badly wants to make his dirty fantasies real. But he can't just avoid you! You always ask why he likes ice cream so much and he simply says that it just tastes good.

He also would never admit that just you showing attention to him can get him riled up since almost every person that had crossed the gate never payed much attention to him. So when you showed interest in getting to know him and eventually dating him- he was down bad and it makes him act up a little.