#Cheshire // Visage

[themadnesslinkedtoahat]

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

When do they fake a smile? How often?

* Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)? *

ROMANTICALLY? Neither has the ability to really experience this. Platonically, Cheshire was sure they had squish on Jefferson [ they still do but will deny it till the day Hell freezes over ] He is one of their closest friends and one that despite everything has always come through. Thankfully Jefferson hasn't the faintest inkling. For Jefferson it was Alice. She was someone so much like him yet at the same time someone completely different. She shared incredible stories of a world he could only imagine and made him look upon his home in a new light.

[ A Squish is a platonic crush, where one strongly desires to be close to a particular individual, but not in a romantic way. It is defined as the desire to be close friends with a particular individual, or to become closer friends with a particular individual if one is already friends with them. ]

* What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them? *

JEFFERSON NOTICES THE BAGS UNDER HIS EYES. Other people tend to be drawn to either his uneven pupils, his fluffy hair, his stretched lobes or the scar stretched across his neck if he's left it uncovered. With Cheshire, it's their eery smile that people tend to notice first. [ We all know the classic Cheshire smile where the corners of their mouth tear deeply into their cheeks ] A dick move of a party trick just to spark a reaction. They're another one to take in the state of their hair before anything else. 

* When do they fake a smile? How often? *

FOR CHESHIRE IT'S KIND OF THEIR TRADEMARK. Showing off their fanged teeth that all too often have them mistaken as a vampire. An allegation they easily brush off with a scoff. It also drives the Queen of Hearts crazy! So all the more the reason to do it. Jefferson is not so unlike us in the sense that he'll smile to show no hard feelings, to hide what he's really feeling, mostly it's usually when he's performing to a crowd or charming his way out of trouble. It's when you can see the creases near his eyes that you know the smile is real.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS - accepting

[stripedcuriosity]

Tag dump part 1

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Summary: You were Alastor's weakness. Something about you drew him closer into your orbit. He knew this weakness would be his downfall, but he couldn't pull back. No matter how hard he tried.

☒ Contains: fluff, gender!neutral reader, slightly angsty undertones, affectionate!Alastor, also possessive!Alastor, sleeping together (literally), implied established relationship, cuddles, one forehead kiss, Alastor undresses the reader but it is not sexual

☒ Word Count: 1,374

Alastor was alluring. 

The mystery surrounding the radio demon made the man all the more interesting to you. The moment Alastor showed up at your friend Charlie's Hotel all those months back, his gaze fixated on you.

His crimson gaze was intimidating at first. But as more time passed, Alastor's stare became somewhat of a solace to you. You felt safe around him. Especially because overtime he seemed to become possessive with you.

Any time you would get a little too close to the other patrons at the Hotel, Alastor's eye would twitch. He would be at your side in an instant- ushering you away. Keeping his hand firm at your waist as he shot the poor sinner a death glare. 

It was flattering, really. You just didn't seem to understand why. 

Why you? 

But hey, you weren't complaining. Plus, it was probably best not to question it. 

It had been an overwhelmingly exhausting day at the hotel. Charlie had you working overtime in preparation for the newcomers ready to be redeemed. You couldn't help but yawn as you trailed down the corridor. Sleepily swaying from side to side as your half-lidded eyes got heavier with each step. 

Suddenly, you felt yourself slam face-first into something- or rather, someone. 

"Careful now, my dear! If you don't watch where you're going, you could end up in a rather dangerous predicament!"

The static crackle in his voice was all too familiar; Alastor.

One of his hands came up to your waist; fingers playfully tapping along your side. Alastor's other hand grasped your chin, tilting your face up so he could get a good look at you.

"My, my! You're looking rather worn down, my dearest! Seems like Charlie's working you to the bone, hm?"

His Cheshire-like smile caught your eye before your gaze met his crimson orbs. Alastor's eyebrows were knitted in concern, making your heart flutter in your chest. 

"Ah, sorry for running into you, Al. I'm just really sleepy. It's been a long day," Your yawn cut you off before you could say more. Your arms snaked around his slender neck as you rested your head against his chest.

Alastor and yourself never discussed the gravity of your relationship. He was bad with feelings, and even worse at expressing them. What you two had was an unspoken thing, and you felt honored to be able to embrace him in this way; knowing no one else had the privilege to do so.

Alastor let out a low hum, static grumbling in his chest. The vibrations lulled you further into dreamland. That was until Alastor's hands swiftly pulled your thighs up, and on instinct, your legs wrapped around his slender waist. Your eyes fluttered open from the swift gesture, and you tilted your head to read Alastor's expression. 

"Al... what are you doing?" You mumbled softly, tightening your hold around the back of his neck as he began his descent down the hall. 

"Why, I'm taking you to our room, my dearest! Seems as though it's way past your bedtime." His radio static voice held a playful undertone as he pulled the bedroom door open. Carefully, Alastor placed you at the edge of your shared bed. 

On most nights, you slept while he worked on his plans for the next broadcast. Alastor rarely slept, but he adored the peaceful sounds of your labored breaths while you rested. Your captivating visage distracted him- only slightly, most nights while he typed up his script. You were just too adorable for your own good, too entrusting. Too tempting.

"Arms up, my dear!" Alastor quipped in a sing-song voice. Sharp gloved fingernails grazed the bare skin of your waist as he tugged your shirt over your head. You shivered slightly from the touch, a coy smile adorning your features as Alastor worked on removing your pants next. 

Alastor hummed along to a tune you couldn't quite put your finger on as he finished undressing you. You couldn't help how your heart pounded against your ribcage from the way his crimson orbs raked over your frame. Strangely, you felt like he was looking at you as if you were his prey. It sent a wave of adrenaline through your entire being.

"No need to feel demure, my darling. You are truly breathtaking! Quite a sight for sore eyes." His voice lowered slightly at the end of his sentence. Alastor made himself comfortable between your parted thighs as he began undressing himself, crimson gaze never once leaving yours. 

He allowed his overcoat and bowtie to cascade to the floor as he unbuttoned his red dress shirt, slumping it off his broad shoulders. "Thank you, Al... you flatter me too much," You chuckled softly, looking at him quizzically as he began looping your arms through his crimson button-up. 

"Nonsense, my dearest! I speak nothing but the truth." Alastor's voice softened as he fastened a couple of buttons of his shirt around your frame, leaving it rather loose-fitting on you. You smiled up at him softly as he lifted you up once more, carrying you to your side of the bed. Slowly, Alastor lifted the sheets, tucking you under them snuggly.

"There, now my darling is ready for bed!" He cooed. Placing a gentle kiss on your forehead before darting back up. Just as Alastor was about to turn on his heel to begin his work for the night, your hand wrapped around his wrist. Alastor slowly turned his head, gaze fixated on where your delicate fingers held him.

"Al... can you lay with me? Only for a little- just until I doze off, please?" Your pleading eyes struck something deep from within him. Alastor swore you were his biggest weakness of all, though he would never admit it aloud. Let alone allow any lowly wretch to discover his drawback; you. 

"Well, how can I deny such a sweet little request from you? You did say please, after all!" Alastor wasted no time slithering in beside you, pushing you gently toward his side of the bed. His scarred flesh was cold to the touch as your hands came up to his bare chest. Alastor stiffened slightly under your touch before allowing himself to relax into the plush mattress. 

Alastor let out a hum of approval as you drew shapes into his chest with your fingertips. "Thank you, my love," You yawned. Finally, permitting your droopy eyes to close shut for good tonight. Alastor quietly shushed you before bringing his hands to your waist, holding you firmly against him. 

He became accustomed to your touch, something Alastor never believed would be true in his case. But you were just darling; he couldn't get enough. You were his and his alone. He would make sure everyone in Hell who dared to lay a single finger on you would be the next guest on his broadcast. 

Alastor's smile deepened as he played out his little murder fantasy in his head. Your labored breaths began filling the dimly lit space. The crickets chirped quietly from beyond the forest on the other side of the room. Your legs were tangled beneath the sheets as you sleepily weaved your hands in his two-toned locks. Alastor's breath hitched as your fingernails lightly grazed the base of his ears. A crimson color coated his cheeks. 

As Alastor allowed himself to succumb to your touch, his mind wandered. Just how did he get so soft? How did he allow you to sneak your way into his cold dead heart? His feelings were conflicting. Alastor cared for you deeply, but fuck did it frighten him more than anything. He was a prideful man, cool, calm, and collected. But you caused his mask to slip ever so slightly. 

Just what was he to do about this revelation?

A small sigh crackled out of his throat as his smile slipped; a rare sight to be seen. Alastor's eyes closed softly as he rubbed small circles into your hips with the pads of his thumbs. Allowing himself to drift off into a deep slumber. 

The workload would still be there in the morning after all, but this moment with you was fleeting. So he planned on greedily allowing himself to enjoy your embrace to the fullest tonight. 

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a Chesshire reader x yandere demon slayers were they're out on a mission and come across demon reader and after the demon slayer sees the demons skill they want them but before they can get the reader, they vanished so now the slayers are after the reader on a search for them

(You don't gotta do this,I know it sounds weird but I thought of it and since I suck at writing I thought you could write it Please?)

Cheshire Demon Reader | Yandere Demon Slayer

You are like Tamayo, acting on your own from Muzan Kibitsuji. With a smile as wide as the crescent moon you can easily make yourself disappear long before the drop of a hat. Something you seem to use in order to avoid others from apprehending you both against demons and their slayers. You’re akin to a mischievous yokai that simply appears to mildly inconvenience the townspeople, who are probably well aware of you. But when confronted about you they just shake their heads and wave their hands–”Ah them? They're no problem, just a sneaky yokai that likes to play tricks but when it counts they’ve got our backs.” 

And you do, enough to attract the attention of the demon slayers whose targets are no longer existent. Wondering who or what is killing these demons that have been so hard to track down. Only to find your smiling visage disappearing into the dark of the night:

Kyojorou Rengoku

“WELL….YOU DON’T SEE THAT EVERY DAY!”

He’s been put on a mission to catch a demon on the run

Eating people and destroying the remaining lives in its wake

So he arrives greeted by the people who both curse and rumor about Cheshire (Y/n)

And when night hits he finds a civilian in distress 

Only to be seconds behind at the flick of your disappearing tail 

The demon is subdued and he can only look at the demon pleading to die

“Oh, flame guy! Don’t you have the sword that’ll kill that thing? Go ahead, I wanna see what it looks like to die that way.” “OF COURSE! I PLAN TO! BUT WHY HELP ME?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He’s persistent 

And he decides to keep finding out more about you

“Why don’t you make like a tree and leave flame boy?”

“YOU’D LIKE THAT RIGHT? THEN COME WITH ME, I DON’T THINK I’D BE ABLE TO LIVE WITHOUT YOU AFTER THIS!”

He loves you for your willingness to protect the humans around you

He doesn’t mind your mischievousness 

But he’d appreciate it if you weren’t so slippery to catch

“COME DARLING! There is no reason to run! I have no plans to eliminate you. IN FACT IT’S QUITE THE OPPOSITE!”

Tanjiro Kamado

Same mission 

He’s led by the scent of the demon

Only to catch another

It smells like Ms. Tamayo except its more curious

“Well well, who is this young sprout? I’ve never seen you before, what’s your name?”

You meet him earlier on 

He probably doesn’t realize you're a demon though

Instead blushing at just the way that you are 

Completely unaware of the way you’ve stolen his food

“Huh!? I just had it?”

“Ah, it must have been (Y/n).”

“(Y/n)?”

“Yeah, they’ve been awfully curious about newcomers as of late.”

 He doesn’t mind it until he’s getting slapped around by the demon

Ready to pull out all the stops until you intervene

Saving his life and further making him fall in love with you

“I-I-I–”

“Awww don’t get your kimono in a twist baby Tanjiro.”

“I–”

“Ciao.”

It takes some time away when he decides to pursue you

You’ve broken away from Muzan so it's a given that he should want to know more about you

Don’t mind the weird bets he tries to instigate with you 

“I-I-I’ll have you marry me! If I win you have to marry me!”

“Whoa whoa, that’s hilarious little boy…Let’s do it.”

Iguro Obanai

“I’m sorry but I’m going to have to kill you, now.”

“Oh, will you then–!” 

You’ll have a blast with him

He’s such an antisocial outcast he’s perfect prey for your antics

He’s such a downer the townspeople are slow to inform him about your reputation

“Stop! Stop moving!”

“Ha ha okay.”

“No wait–don’t!” 

“Hehehehe.”

He gives up on killing you 

When you interrupt him again 

It’s to bring an end to the demon

And he quiets the attraction that bubbles in him when you terminate the demon

“Why…why would you save the people? As a demon.”

“ Don’t know. It’s fun here. And I won’t stand for anyone disrupting that.”

He figures he can take you 

After all, they let that stubborn kid keep one

Why can’t he?

“Just come with me and I’ll stop bothering you.”

“Hahaha, that’s hilarious. Why would I stop now!? This game of cat and mouse is one I’m quite good at!”

[ravstars]

Let's get outta here.ᐟ

⌇Wanderer/ Scaramouche x Reader.ᐟ

જ⁀➴Spicy fluff: Wanderer and you go out on a coffee date and he can't stop teasing you... Modern AU, Wanderer/ Scaramouche refered to as Kuni~

a/n: This is a little more spicy.... I'm gathering courage writing more spicy online so please enjoy!! Thank you for all the love <33

"Kuni... not here...!" You whisper-yell to your boyfriend, your hand stopping his from moving further up your thigh. He just snickers, coming closer to your ear.

"Why not? 's not like anyone can see. Unless, well, you want people to see." He teases you, his brow quirking up and matching the smirk on his alluring lips. His features are divine, you note, the mole under his right eye making his already fox-like visage appear even more magnificent.

His hand wiggles out under yours, now brushing up and down your thigh slowly, enticingly. His breath fans over your neck, and you don't want to guess how red you are right now.

You're starting to regret going on this coffee date with him now, already feeling some eyes on your trembling shape. You can feel Wanderer's complacent aura radiating off of him and bouncing off of your skin, it was too much.

You lower your head and take a deep breath and he only uses this new opportunity to lean in even closer and bite your ear lobe softly, just enough for you to feel his teeth. Galvanising pleasure blooms through you, making you bite your bottom lip to stifle the compromising sound that was about to leave you.

"Ha! I got you." He pokes his nose into your cheek, grinning like a cheshire cat, as you were practically drowning in embarrassment at the very same time.

You lift your head and turn it to him, with him still so close making the whole situation way more intimate than before.

"Not here. Please." You try and not sound too worked up, your eyes narrowing down on his feverishly. It seems this new found closeness has taken at least the tiniest toll on him, as his breath hitches and his eyes look down onto your lips. Contrary to your words you can't help but press your lips together, pressing your soft lips onto his perfect ones. He smiles into the kiss, a small, small smile only you'd be able to recognise after years of decoding and solving him and his thoughts.

You pull away and when you realise that you're pressing your thighs together, mentally slapping yourself for taking it way too far. You cough in an attempt to break the tension before hesitantly looking back at him.

"Don't look at me like that," wiping your lips you mumble, "Let's just pay and get out of here."

He gets the clue. You're sure by the way he immediately gets up to pay the bill.

[catsoupki]

CHP. FIVE | YOU'LL FALL IN LOVE ON YOUR OWN PACE (WITH MY LITTLE THINGS)

SUMMARY: Katsuki has settled into a routine-like dance with you ever since your debut as a hero. He takes care of you like harmonious clockwork, but as he peels layer after layer, he’s caught up with his own tantalising feelings when he finds your blood staining his hands. You teach him, slowly, of what it means to fall in love.

TAGS: pro hero au, fem reader, banter, hurt/comfort

CHAPTER LENGTH: 1,288 | SERIES MASTERLIST

When you wake up, the sight before you is beyond gorgeous. 

Last night, plagued by the heavy sleepiness in the afterglow of sex, you two had tumbled onto the bed before he had the chance to shut the curtains. Now, rays of golden sunlight stroke themselves across Katsuki’s face meekly, as if they’ve afraid of being grazed by the sharp corners of his visage. The ash blond of his hair becomes sandy in colour, edges rounded as he stirs in his sleep. You breathe, and you get lungs full of him— woody caramel sweetness. 

You fight the urge to hold his face with all your might, so much so that your concentration wakes him from his slumber. He looks domestic in the way he slowly blinks to get the drowsiness out of his eyes, eyelids barely staying open as his pupils begin to focus, and you see the moment everything registers in his head, the memories flowing from last night and the view in front of him right now clicking— and he lets his eyes widen and his lips part, before yawning and rolling into the bed again, with you in his inescapable hold. 

Getting up proves to be difficult after that, only with the umpteenth ringing of your alarms that you finally decide it’s time to leave the safe haven and begin your day. 

You can tell he’s in a chirpy mood, despite not being a morning person. The way he shuffles from hallway to bathroom and back, the way he slips on his clothes, they’re all done with less aggression. 

You also cannot deny that your mood has been lifted from the slight change in routine. Your morning run was shorter— two minutes faster than your usual time; when you had your shower at the agency, the cold water hit your back more pleasantly; usually insufferable sidekicks became more compliant, easier to deal with. 

An hour before your first patrol, your manager stalks into your office with a cheshire grin, demanding you to tell her every little detail of last night’s rendezvous with the Nation’s favourite hero. You put up little fight, though you knew you’d tell her someday anyway, you comply and begin the retelling of your favourite story, how careful he had held you in his palms, how loving he had been shampooing your hair, and all the other moments in between that are still burned into your mind as clear as day. 

Your work goes by in a breeze. You find that little inconveniences in your life can be smoothed over by imagining how Katsuki looks when he wakes up, but recalling might be a better word. 

It’s six o’clock, you’re packing up and getting ready to leave the office, your glass desk is wiped clean, shreds of paper thrown away. The door knob is cool when you hold it, you have your earphones in your pocket, for when you finish greeting the passionate interns working overtime out in the hall with tight-lipped smiles. 

The evening sun is particularly orange when it hits the tall potted plants, giving the sacramento leaves a brownish shine; the off-white walls look old, like they’ve already been filled with memories of past owners. When you walk through the corridors and lobbies, you’re thankful that you haven't lost your quirk, your heartbeat, nor your Katsuki. Maybe a few months back, the disappearances of these everyday occurrences wouldn’t cross your mind, they’re regular constants in your life that have made their markings on you— made you a mosaic of them. It strikes you that just as Magnesium is a metal, death is always walking next to you, no matter where you go, he’ll be stepping with you when you cross the road, when you go on the balcony, and when you cook dinner. An inescapable truth that cannot be denied by anyone, not even the most powerful parts of society. 

So when you leave the door of your agency and see a familiar-looking Lexus parked on the side of the road, with that unruly bunch of blond hair that you’ve found yourself too enraptured by, your smile is uncontrollably vehement. 

When Katsuki drives you home, it’s done without a word. You know this path by turn, every street name and every corner is familiar, you know that he’ll strum his fingers against the steering wheel aimlessly while he waits for the red lights to turn green, and when he pulls into his penthouse building’s parking lot, you know that the monthly cost is roughly ¥70000 and that his assistant pays it on the first day of each month. 

You know him, so you’re not surprised when he opens the door for you, his house unfurled and vulnerable in the dimming golden rays, laid bare in front of you, letting you take in all its glory when it’s still daytime, and similarly, you do the same to him, Katsuki. 

You think he had just finished showering before he came to pick you up, the way his hair sticks up is funny-looking, wild in every sense of the word, when he walks past you to grab your bags and shoes to set them down, the woody scent trails after him. You wonder whether you look awkward and out of place, unmoving in the entry with your hands at your sides, covered in fabrics that are dark in an apartment that is warm and next to a person who is bright. 

He doesn’t let you think far, he soon takes your hand in his, and gently leads you to his living room, where your feet drag and thump on the carpet in dull thuds. He leaves you, awkward and out of place, in the middle of the room, in front of the TV and next to the signed All Might poster he framed, he walks over to the— oh, the record player you gave him for his first ‘Hero of the Year’ award. It’s placed neatly on a dark wooden stand, and under it are stacks of vinyls, from local bands to overseas artists that you introduced to him, he clicks it on and gravity takes you with both hands as you put one foot in front of another, stumbling along the rhythm of music. 

Bakugou has always been a hummer, but when he sings to you for the first time tonight, it’s thick and heavy, laced with something he can’t say aloud, it sounds a lot like a confession that soothes over you like a second skin.

In a few, dinner will be served, you two will eat shoulder to shoulder with a quiet chatter, and in between are the whispers and soft spoken words, as if there’s someone eavesdropping behind you, he’ll lean closer towards you as the night settles in, drowsiness and exhaustion will begin to creep onto the way he speaks and into the way he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. 

In an hour, you’ll be hands deep into his sink, scrubbing hard at the dishes while he stands next to you with a torn rag in hand and with a dish rack to his right, he’ll take the two plates and the four chopsticks you hand him, then he’ll place them tidily into the rack, like you’ve been doing this for years— like harmonious clockwork. 

You’ll shower, then his fingers will tease and dance around yours under the sheets, you’ll feel for his callouses, the rock solid proof of his hard work, and you won’t be able to brush lotion onto them, but only snuggle your head closer and tighter and more intimately to his shoulder. 

He’ll learn to say I love you on his own terms, he’s got all the time in the world. 

[vangbelsing]

Emmrich X Rook: Laugh Together Prompt for DADreams

WOW, A STORY I'M ACTUALLY RELATIVELY PLEASED WITH? AND THAT I GOT OUT EARLIER THAN BEFORE MY BEDTIME??? Wild. Anyway, this is set at a point where Alina and Emmrich aren't together yet but are very clearly already in their pro yearning stages. I had SO much fun writing this, especially the more flirty bits 🤭 ENJOY 🫶

Her long legs draped over the arm rest of the chair in his study, swinging back and forth mindlessly, the occasional bump of her feet into the wooden surface causing a subtle thud every now and again. Once in awhile, she would peer up passed the little book in her hands that she skimmed with only a shred of interest, looking to see if perhaps the man at the other side of the room had finished with his papers.

He had not.

She groaned, staring at the way his quill swayed rhythmically in his hold, the motions very near to hypnotic, but not so much as to keep her attention. She groaned again, this time with far more force and intentionally higher in volume, her arm slumping down to her side while her fingers maintained only a meek hold on the book she had barely even read half way.

"Have I failed to rouse your enthusiasm, madame Crow?" Emmrich asked rhetorically from his spot at the desk, the question tinted with a hint of playful sarcasm. His head did not so much as twitch to look back at Alina, instead continuing to flip expertly to another page, dabbing his quill into the ink pot beside him.

Alina shifted positions, propping herself up on her elbows to shoot a pout at the mans back as she allowed the book to fall from her hands entirely, the spine contacting the stone floor with a quiet thump.

"Well, professor, when you said I could wait in your study with you while you finished some business, I had assumed it would take a few minutes... maybe even several... But an hour?"

The man flitted back and forth between two pages now, inspecting his prior work to ensure there were no inconsistencies. He settled on one sheet of paper again, flicking his writs slightly as he leaned forward to write once more, the motion producing a sweet little symphony of clinks and jingles from his bejeweled arms.

"I did say I would fetch you afterwards if you preferred not to wait, I happen to recall."

Oh, he was grinning. She couldn't see his face, but she knew it for a fact. She could just tell from the pitch of his voice and the little flicks of his free fingers how decidedly amused he was by this.

Alina rolled her eyes, pushing herself up from her seat to stand before starting a particularly lethargic saunter in Emmrichs direction.

"True, but back in Antiva, we have something of an unspoken rule:" The raven tressed elf began to purr, striding forward until she reached the spot where the older man sat, his head still set on his work.

She gripped the back his seat to spin his chair around, forcing him to face her. Surprisingly, he didn't seem the least bit perturbed, his mouth quirked up on either side into a lazed smile, his eyes attempting to feign a look of reprimand. She leaned into him slightly from where she stood above him, leaving little distance between them now.

"If a pretty girl is trying to spend time with you, you don't make her wait. Especially not an hour."

He hummed mindfully in response, taking his chin between his thumb and pointer finger, "A wise convention. Though, we have our own saying in Nevarra."

"Oh?" She cooed, setting her chin atop her hands as she rested her elbows on the arm rests on either side of Emmrich, their faces now more level, "You have a better one?"

His expression shifted, his face more overtly amused, "Better is a matter of perspective."

"Uh huh. And how does your, 'better according to ones perspective' saying go?"

He allowed himself to smirk fully now, as if emboldened. "Any time passed in the presence of a beautiful woman is always time well spent."

The grin on Alinas countenance was cheshire, her comely visage exuding satisfaction. This had been what she wanted when she suggested she and Emmrich spend time with one another. Banter, ribbing, gossip; anything bracing. So long as they were doing it together.

She released her grip on his chair, moving with a felines graceful fluidity to seat herself on the edge of his desk instead and crossing her legs in a single motion. He turned in his place so that only the side of his face was visible from her new perch.

"I see you Nevarrans have some universal practices. But don't you think there are better uses of a - oh, how did you put it?" Alina pressed a long, delicate digit to rest at her chin, pretending to search her memory, "a beautiful woman? Yes, that was it. Surely there are better uses of a beautiful womans time."

The necromancers chest swelled with self satisfaction. The way she emphasized his words, how she brought overt attention to them. He thought she might like that.

"I believe women are capable of choosing the best possible use of their time. Though I suppose they have something to say about that in Antiva as well?" His tone was clearly teasing.

She reclined on his desk, supporting her weight on both arms. "Only that the one thing more likely to spill your guts over an offense than a scorned woman is a Crow."

Emmrich smiled, but paused a moment, his face twisting thoughtfully as if weighing his next words with care. He grinned then, the look more playful than teasing, obviously having deemed that the risk would be worth the reward.

"I should have known you Antivan Crows would be so... ma-caw-bre."

Silence enveloped the room, natural, at first, and then quickly not. Emmrich maintained his composure, but the bead of sweat forming on his brow betrayed the tension he had begun to feel creeping in.

'Was that a bird pun?' she thought to herself. 'Did he just... make a bird joke?'

She gaped at him, her verdurous eyes wide like plates and her mouth parted. She looked as if he had grown a second head rather than tell a corny pun. It was so stupid. Utterly nonsensical. It wasn't even a good pun.

Yet...

As if possessed, Alina barked one sudden laugh, then another, until she fell into a continuous stream of mirthful chuckles. Emmrich frowned, the blush spreading from his neck to his ears, his composed shell thoroughly chipped.

"What?" He asked, the question defensive as his voice cracked somewhat.

Alina paused, trying to regain her breath, but failed, almost immediately returning to her laughing fit. She pointed to him, tears in her eyes and incapable of uttering a word not broken by laughter.

"You...!"

"I what?!" He mimicked her, pointing to himself now as his tone grew more affronted, clearly embarrassed.

"You said... You... That was so stupid!" She fell on her side, now balling up on the desk.

Emmrichs first instinct was to feel somewhat offended at Alinas display, her reaction far more animated than he would ever have thought her capable of over something so trivial as a poor pun about birds.

But looking at her there, her eyes pressed tightly as tears pricked the corners of her eyes, her cheeks reddened and lifted into the most jovial mien he had seen her wear in all the time he knew her. And her laugh; not the breathy chuckle of a woman with the intent to beguile or the sharp cackle of mockery, but a laugh. True, pure and filled with gaiety. To see her so happy and carefree, to know he had been the reason - it was worth feeling like a fool to see her this way.

He smiled, his face still pink as he settled in his chair again. "It wasn't that bad..." He practically pouted vocally.

They sat there for a few moments, the only noise filling the room being the laughter Alina couldn't seem to stifle. Steadily, it slowed, the once gleeful, high pitched and continuous echoes dulling to the occasional throaty giggle.

She sighed, apparently having caught her breath and regained her composure. Her bright eyes blinked open in the direction of the necromancer, who had, it seemed, watched her display without pause, the visible aura of delight that surrounded him abruptly making Alina feel flush.

"That was really bad." She asserted quietly, the scathing words contrasted by the sweetness of the tone in which she spoke them.

"Well," he started, crossing one leg over the other, "it was intended to make you laugh..." he rolled his eyes over her frame, taking special note of the wet streaks of eyeshadow that had left a teary trail down her cheeks, "And its results can't exactly be called into question."

Alina hummed at that, breaking the eye contact to stare off to the side at the numerous rows of books, which lined each wall neatly. Emmrich quickly caught the twinkle of mischief in her verdant eyes, her nose scrunching as she appeared to suppress a grin.

"Still, saying something like... It must have been embarrassing for you. I could never force myself to say anything that ridiculous." She then whipped her head to him, her gaze capturing his, demanding his utmost scrutiny.

She had it completely.

The smirk she hoped to hide now showed itself in full, despite her efforts, "I've always fancied myself as being more... caw-tious..."

Emmrich stared, unfazed for only a moment, before tearing his eyes away from her, his head turning as if he was physically incapable of staring in her direction, a long chortle escaping from him.

"Maker, you were right," he lifted a hand to his face, resting his temple and cheek on his pointer, middle and ring fingers, a half amused, half cringing smile tugging at his lips, "it is awful."

She huffed, gaping in mock offense. "I never said it was awful!"

"You should have." Emmrich laughed fully at last, staring back at Alina once again.

They both remained in his study for a time, sitting in a comfortable silence until Alina had insisted that Emmrich read to her, which he did gladly. An hour or so had gone by before Bellara had beckoned them for supper, excitedly announcing that she and Lucanis had put special, coordinated effort into a cultural fusion dish tonight. Emmrich had offered Alina his arm to take, and when she had locked her arms into his, she could just barely restrain the urge to lean her head against his shoulder; a gesture she could not have realized just how deeply he would have welcomed.

Events had been tumultuous at the least strenuous of times of late, but even so, in moments like this, when all that was felt was the presence of another soul, riding out the passage of time in blissful, carefree afternoons spent without the anxieties that pervaded their every day, it kept them grounded, made them realize how much was left to fight for.

[theboywithburninghands]

Hey guys, here’s the next chapter of my Arranged Marriage Funnybunny AU. Hope you enjoy it. It’s a bit short but I love it, especially the first half. Oh yeah and uh @fernstarsblog your tag as always

T/W: Era appropriate sexism (just in case), implied vomit

Primum Peccatum Ch. 4: Hit The Road, Jax

The next day, life resumed as normal. Or at least, a reasonable facsimile of normal.

Vladimir and Mirella were sated by Pomni’s assertions that she was charmed by Jax Krolik upon meeting him, and thus had a change of heart. There were a few “I told you so’s” and apologies issued by both sides. Pomni truly did feel awful about the words she had spoken to her parents, especially her mother, but it seemed that those ugly feelings were muted by excitement about the coming ceremonies.

Pomni’s mother drafted about a dozen letters to all of her relatives, most of them for her Silurian cousins that lived in the sprawling burg of Angel’s Peak in Telychia. Mirella always expressed a desire to holiday in Angel’s Peak, but Vladimir turned her down each time, claiming it wasn't worth the onerous process of renewing their papers. Pomni was always secretly grateful for this, since a city that size would surely send her into hysterics with its overabundance of people and noise.

Vladimir, who had considerably less living family to worry about, had taken to completing all the necessary paperwork for the wedding. Predominantly monetary matters that required careful scrutiny, inheritances, the dowry and the like, but also billing and housing concerns for the construction team that were building Pomni and Jax’s manor on the other side of Primum Peccatum.

As for Pomni, she spent the morning pondering. This Jax Krolik seemed genuine enough in his assertions that the wedding would be a formality and nothing more. As he had stated yesterday, had he been more inclined to have Pomni fill the role of housewife, there was little Pomni could do to stop him. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the beastman was hiding something behind that Cheshire smile.

Perhaps that was prejudiced of her. She should give Mr. Krolik the benefit of the doubt at least. It was a dreadful stereotype that beastfolk had hidden, malevolent intent behind their actions. This generalization was only furthered by the inane propaganda that walnut-brained politicians and mad street evangelicals spewed, fantasies about beastfolk eating human flesh in secret or stealing human babies from their cribs.

Pomni, now restless, left her bedroom, and after her father turned down her assistance with the paperwork, she decided to go and visit Mr. Kinger.

Kinger Rooker was a 48-year-old shapeman who resembled a king chess-piece that lived in the manor neighboring The Shutnyk estate. He had a wife for some years, a shapewoman with the visage of a queen chess-piece, appropriately enough named Queenie. She had passed away in her sleep when Pomni was only four, something about not getting enough minerals, an essential part of any shapeperson’s diet. The Rookers earned their fortune through the publication of various encyclopedias and almanacs, the most famous and successful of which was The Essential Encyclopedia of New Hirnantian Insects, which could be found in just about every library in the country and was a must-own for any aspiring entomologist. Pomni had read the book cover to cover multiple times now, and she hardly considered herself interested in insects.

Kinger refused to remarry and had no children, and was content living out the rest of his days as a widower, preferring to donate his fortune to the state upon his death. But, despite his solitude, he had become close friends with Pomni and her family over the years, as the young Ms. Shutnyk often ran into Kinger in the midst of bug collecting when she went out exploring the pine forests of Primum Peccatum. He had been over to the Shutnyks’ for dinner just about every winter solstice.

Pomni’s most distinct memory of these holiday visits was when she was five years old. Before eating his plate of spaghetti carbonara, she saw Kinger sprinkle some sand onto his food from a small bottle, and eat it no issue. She wasn’t allowed to speak unless spoken to at the table, so hadn’t the chance to ask why he did that. When her parents took her shell hunting on the island’s coast a few days later, she grabbed a handful of white sand off the beach and tried some for herself. She learned a valuable lesson about the difference between humans’ and shapefolk’s dietary needs that day.

Pomni walked over to the Rooker estate, thankful to be wearing a plain black dress and her usual sunhat instead of that gaudy red thing her mother put her in yesterday. It was a sunny day, the sky full of feathery clouds, and the breeze was cool. Pomni intended on telling Mr. Kinger that she was going to be married soon, and would be moving to the other side of the island. But this was by no means goodbye, as she would visit him frequently. She pondered telling Kinger about the plan she and her “fiancé” had hatched the previous afternoon, but thought better of it. Kinger was by no means a quisling, but he did tend to blurt out whatever was on his mind. So best not.

Pomni turned off of the dirt road onto the brick path leading to The Rooker Estate. His front garden had gone to seed, taken over by enormous weeds nearly two decades ago. If she had more of mind for gardening, Pomni might have offered to pull up the weeds and start a real garden for Kinger, but she knew Kinger wouldn’t look after it. His heart lay with insects.

She tapped the toes of her pumps on the bottommost stone step of Kinger’s front porch, chasing off any dirt that clung to their soles, and rapped on the door with the tarnished brass knocker.

“Mr. Kinger! It’s Pomni Shutnyk, I have an… important development to share with you!”

A voice from inside sounded out.

“Ms. Shutnyk! Good heavens, it’s been ages! Come in, the door is open!”

Pomni couldn’t help but smile a little. They had seen each other the previous weekend. The old codger’s memory could be spotty. Her father was around the same age as Kinger, but his mind was still quite sharp. Pomni suspected that the memory issues had something to do with grief. She pressed down on the handle with her thumb and opened the door.

The best way to describe Kinger’s manor was organized chaos. Most every surface was covered in papers of all sorts, postage, scraps of writing, files of important documents, diagrams detailing the anatomy of insects or other animals. The only completely bare surfaces in the foyer were the steps leading to the second floor and the mud mat, where Pomni sat and took her shoes off. It was dusty, certainly, but there was no rubbish or moldy food or pest droppings. Pomni was fairly certain that she could ask Kinger to find a sketch of a certain kind of beetle that he made 17 years ago, and he would be able to find it amid the mountains of parchment.

Pomni coughed politely. She was lucky enough to avoid inheriting her father's beastly dust allergy, but this much dust did irritate her throat somewhat. She took her sunhat off and placed it upon one of the document stacks by the door, clearing her throat.

“Come to the kitchen, Ms. Shutnyk!” Kinger called out. The kitchen was where Pomni had most of her chats with Mr. Kinger, as he had converted the dining room into his office after converting his office into his insect habitat. Pomni carefully walked over the stacks of paper into the kitchen.

The kitchen probably had the most free space in the entire manor, enough room on the counters and stove top for preparing and cooking food, and the end two-seated end table was always unoccupied, for eating a meal or enjoying a cup of tea. That didn’t stop the clutter entirely, however, as by the door to the dining room, a few stacks of paper that hadn’t quite fit on the dining room table or in any of the other designated storage spaces, sat on either side

Kinger sat in one of the end table chairs in his usual purple nightgown with mink, raising his usual cup of plain Permian red tea.

“We were just talking about you, Ms. Shutnyk.”

“We-?”

Pomni froze mid step. In the other chair sat a purple rabbit in a gray waistcoat, lighter gray trousers and black socks, with a crimson ascot just below his chin. Surprise flashed for a moment in his yellow eyes, before his wide, toothy smile spread across his face.

“Well if it isn’t my fiancée!” he declared, raising one hand skyward and keeping the other on his teacup. “Yes, I was just telling Mr. Rooker about our meeting yesterday afternoon!”

Pomni blinked her eyes, both from irritation and the fact that she was still reeling from shock.

“Mr.- Mr. Krolik. What a… what an unexpected surprise!”

“Surprises do tend to be unexpected.” Jax replied evenly, sipping his tea.

“And what, may I ask, motivated you to visit The Rooker Estate? Not one day after we met at my home?” Pomni asked through clenched teeth.

“Visit? Oh, I’m not simply visiting, dearest.” Jax said.

Kinger nodded. “Jax here is renting the guest room. I forgot I had left the lease open, but he’s already given me a month’s rent. In cash!”

Kinger picked up a small bag of crowns tied off with red string off the table. The coins jingled.

“That’s… Would you excuse us for one moment?”

Pomni grabbed Jax by the hand and marched him into the foyer. His glove was damp with sweat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed once they were safely out of earshot. “This was NOT part of the agreement.”

“If I recall, the agreement was ‘I was to leave your house and not return until the day of the ceremony.’ This isn’t your house. In fact, you’re the one who arrived here uninvited.” Jax said.

“You moved into my next door neighbor’s spare room! I knew you weren’t to be trusted..!”

Jax, still holding Pomni’s hand, lightly tugged her wrist so she focused back on him.

“Pomni. If this ruse is going to work, we have to actually appear infatuated. Would you not think it a little suspicious if we both spent the next few weeks avoiding each other?”

Pomni chewed her lip. He… made a valid point. She was never particularly skilled at pretending she was interested in something. If it bored her, it bored her, and no amount of reprimanding from her parents could make her convincingly play-act interest. So perhaps this was for the better…

“Could you please let go of my hand? Your glove is… extremely sweaty.”

Jax looked down. He did still have his hand over hers.

“This outfit isn’t exactly breathable. And if I’m not mistaken, it was you who grabbed hold of me, n’est ce pas?”

He relinquished his grip either way. Pomni wiped the perspiration off on her dress, looking rather ill.

“You really want to live here just to maintain a charade? Wouldn’t you rather stay at an inn?”

“Prolonged stays at inns are costly. Here, I get my own room for a meager fee.” Jax said, tucking his hand into his jacket pocket. “Besides, I quite enjoy Mr. Rooker’s company.”

“He is a charming gentleman…” Pomni agreed. “But please, Mr. Krolik. He is not a sideshow, he- are you quite alright?”

Jax pressed the hand that was just entwined with Pomni’s against his abdomen. His yellow eyes had grown wide and staring. His gaze flicked to Pomni and he managed another, considerably weaker smile.

“Pardon me. I’ve been battling dyspepsia for a while, I- HURK!”

Jax put a hand to his mouth and hurried up the stairs, ducking upstairs towards the lavatory.

Pomni looked up the dusty stairs for a moment before sighing. “Ah… I suddenly have no more desire for company.” She called out. “Mr. Kinger? I’ll be back later, I just realized that I have an urgent errand that requires my attention.”

“Very well, my dear, but do come back soon!” Mr. Rooker replied.

Truthfully, she did feel quite peccant for leaving Mr. Kinger with Jax, but… truthfully, once her sanctuaries had been breached, she had little desire to remain in them. She would have to invite Mr. Kinger over to her house as an apology, even if that did go against her typical routine…

“Farewell! And… farewell, ‘darling.’” she drawled. Jax did not reply. She picked up her sunhat, shaking any dust from it, and slid her shoes back on before exiting the manor, profoundly unsatisfied.

As she walked down the weedy path back towards her manor, a shapeman with an enormous set of dentures for a head in an impeccable red suit jacket, black pants and white gloves, stepped out from inside the manor. He had not a speck of dust on his clothes. He pulled a silver pocketwatch out of his jacket, examining it. There were no needles on the face of the clock, nor numbers.

“Hm… yes. I believe this will be fine.”

He snapped the watch closed, walking back into the manor. The door drifted closed behind him, certainly caused by an errant breeze.

[yanderecrazysie]

Lesson Part 2 (Yandere Oikawa)

Requested on Wattpad and Quotev.

Title: Lesson

Pairings: Oikawa Tooru x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, teacher-student “relationship” (one-sided)

Summary: Oikawa isn’t your model student, to put it lightly. But extra lessons may prove to be your worst mistake yet.

Part 1: here

lesson

/noun/

a period of learning or teaching.

Your only way out was locked electronically and your captor stood opposite you. This was potentially the worst possible situation you’d ever found yourself in. 

A shiver of unease runs down your spine and Oikawa’s smirk grows wider, reminding you a little of the Cheshire cat. You wondered if the smile hurt the corners of his mouth with how wide it had become.

Still, you tried to remain calm.

“Oikawa, what’s going on? Why is the door locked?”

The man chuckled, the laugh almost saccharine, “Relax Teach’, I just thought it’d be better if we had some privacy for our tutoring session.”

You looked at the windows and your heart sunk when you saw that the shutters were down and locked. The door didn’t seem to have any way to unlock it manually. It was if everything was ready for your visit- ready to trap you here forever.

“What do you want?” Your voice came out softer than you’d meant, so you tried to get the authority back in your tone, “Oikawa, you need to unlock the door.”

Oikawa ignored the last part of your plea and instead answered, “I want to learn Spanish, of course! Remember, that’s why you’re here, silly!”

His tone was joking, but Oikawa’s gaze was anything but. More predatory than playful.

“I can still help you, but we need to go somewhere else.” You tried to keep your tone steady and stern, “The library or the school or anywhere else. I don’t feel comfortable staying here.”

Oikawa considered your words for a moment, before shrugging carelessly, “Well, you said we’d study here, so that’s what we’re doing.”

You cursed your poor decisions- what had possessed you to come here? This was all your fault, wasn’t it?

No. It wasn’t your fault, you reminded yourself. You didn’t ask for this. This was Oikawa’s fault.

“Let me go,” You demanded, your tone as sharp as you could make it.

“No.” Oikawa shot back, eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Why?” You tried to keep yourself from breaking and showing him just how frightened you were. You couldn’t let this man see how much he affected you.

His smile faded for a moment, a thoughtful expression clouding his visage. It was almost as if he wasn’t sure himself or, perhaps, wasn’t sure how to express what he was feeling. You waited impatiently for him to answer you as he took a few moments to think.

“I want to learn more than Spanish from you,” he said slowly, softly, “I want to learn everything about you. I want to learn how you work, how you think. I want to learn how to get any emotion from you I’d like.”

You shivered, not sure how to feel about this new information. The implication of his words finally sank in. You were alone with someone who seemed obsessed with you somehow. You couldn’t imagine why, but he was completely enamored with you. You could see it in his eyes.

Your heartbeat picked up, your throat going dry as your logic gave way to panic. 

You took a step back, fear choking you as your eyes began to dart around the room.

No knives in sight- where’s the kitchen? Anything sharp? No, nothing… Anything I can use to bash his skull in? That vase maybe? Should I attack him or try to bust open the door? Will he grab me first? What do I do?

You were hyperventilating, vision blurring as you began to lose your grip on reality. You took a shaky step backward, desperately trying to keep your swaying body from losing its balance or passing out on the hardwood floor.

The brunette closed the distance in an instant, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close. You tried to scream, but his hand pushed your mouth against his chest, muffling the desperate noise.

“It’s okay, we don’t have to learn anything right now,” Oikawa cooed softly, “Even teachers need breaks sometimes.”

Panic coursed through your veins. Oikawa was so close that you could feel every inch of his warm skin. You were trapped, helpless. Your mind raced, trying desperately to find a way out.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Oikawa said softly, “I just want to get to know you better. That’s all.”

You want to believe him, but the fear is overwhelming. Oikawa may be charming, but your instincts know better right now.

Oikawa’s hand came up to stroke your hair. On pure instinct, your head swiveled around and bit deep into the side of his hand. He let out a yelp of pain, his hand shooting back as he released you. You seized the opportunity and scurried away from him.

You threw yourself at the door, trying desperately to unlock it somehow. There truly was no way to unlock it manually, as you’d unfortunately thought beforehand. 

Oikawa recovered quickly, grasping his bleeding hand in the other. He grimaced at you, trying to slap that obnoxious smirk on his face but in too much pain to successfully do so.

He began to approach you, his aura suddenly threatening, the air starting to suffocate you.

“You really shouldn’t have done that, Teach’,” he said darkly, “And here I thought we could have a pleasant evening together.”

He leaned down to your trembling form and grinned.

“Maybe it’s you that needs a lesson.”

[en-lista]

BITE ME.  ›  DARK BLOOD ݃ 2023

SYNOPSIS. why fear the words of those who don’t appreciate art?

STARRING. ot8 .. enha's choreographer .. backup dancers

DURATION. 541 words

CW + NOTE. possible criticism from homophobics + lista wasn’t able to participate in promotions ≠ she isn’t part of this era 🤭

“..and calista will be partnered with howl. now let’s all get along and do our best, alright?” dahee concludes, shortly receiving a chorus of agreement.

with everyone ready to learn this new dance routine, they shuffle across the room to get a decent view of the dance teacher. calista removes ni-ki’s arm from atop her head and does something similar.. except her target isn’t a place, but a person.

“excuse me,” easily gaining the choreographer’s attention, she cuts to the point, “why did you pair me with a male dancer?”

“since this is quite a sensual and romantic dance, we want to make sure you exude as much chemistry with your partner as possible. and.. well, given how well you get along with howl, i thought it’d be best to put the two of you together.”

she has to admit it.. there is sense to his explanation. yet, there is a pair of dots in her mind that hasn’t been connected. and while it may seem selfish, she needs to know the answer.

“no offense to howl,” the mentioned dancer waves it off, much more interested in witnessing where this is going than feeling indignant. “but i’m capable of doing the same thing with a female partner.”

..is it just dahee, or did the studio get chillier?

“are you really confident about that?” before he can be misunderstood—a few blank stares from both her members and the dancers tells him he already is—the young man hastily tacks on, “people will already make comments about you dancing with another woman, who knows what they’ll say if there’s a lack of chemistry between the two of you..”

calista shrugs her shoulders, undeterred. “let them talk. at the end of the day, that’s all they can do. besides, i’m sure with practice, my partner and i can build up a connection that’ll translate into our dance.”

“she’s right.” this time, it’s jay who speaks up—ready to defend his best friend. “no matter what she does, they’ll always have something to say. so don’t pay them much attention or else they’ll drain your energy and patience.”

still hesitant about letting the idol pull off such a bold move, dahee turns to ni-ki for his input. it makes sense, seeing as how he did contribute in the creation of this choreography..

all eyes are on the maknae as he coolly approaches the older girl, his verdict readily sitting on the tip of his tongue. his arm wraps around her shoulder, rosy lips curled in a confident smile. “ever since we were rookies, noona has never failed to pull off a showstopper. which is why i’m certain that regardless of who she dances with, she’ll continue her streak.”

3 to 1; the winner has been declared.

resigned, the choreographer sighs and apologizes, “if you’re really set on this, i can pair you with hyeily. but please know that i only made my initial decision because i don’t want you to face the fans’ harsh backlash, okay?”

“i understand, and i appreciate your concern.” a cheshire smirk paints itself upon calista’s visage as she tells him, “but i’m no longer a stranger to that kind of scene, so if they talk then i’ll just tell them..

bite me.”

꒰ TAGLIST.  @stealanity @lost-leopard-beanie @fairiepoems 𐬹 send an ask if you’d like to be added  ꒱

[voxuli]

Starter for @visage-of-hell

She'd ended the moth demon with a whimper, rather than a bang.

Vox thinks Valentino wouldn't have liked that; however, now Val's brains are splattered over the carpet, and Vox can't be bothered to care.

If Visage had thought she was getting away with this in total secrecy, she was sorely mistaken. Nothing went by in this city without Vox's notice. She wasn't subtle, and Vox liked to keep tabs on Carmine as a rule of thumb. The hellhound hounding after Val's territory had quickly landed herself on a list to keep an eye on.

But Vox... Well, the thing that people didn't seem to understand was that the Vees were a business partnership. For all they acted and clowned around on TV, it was strictly work. Valentino had never exactly been what Vox had considered a hard worker. And Vox was getting more than a little tired of constantly having to change out his head.

So if Valentino had gotten too complacent to keep proper tabs on people gunning for his position, well... what right did he have to expect Vox's surveillance on the matter?

So he'd sat back. And he had watched all the moves that she made. And when it came down to it... He'd watched Visage put a heavenly bullet straight into Val's head. Dumbass. He'd told him he should invest more into angelic detector systems.

He has two thoughts. The first-- Good riddance. The second?

He's glad it was this one. She had spunk.

Vox slips into the grid with the practiced ease of several decades, blinking into the entrance of Val's ruined studio from an unoccupied outlet. The corpses around are neater than the average hellish massacre, gore and mess kept to a minimum. He nudges one out of the way with the tip of his shoe and spares a second to schedule a cleanup crew.

A subtle gesture of his claws brings Valentino's latent security systems back online, just in case this goes south. He reaches into the building's intercom system, projecting his voice throughout the entire building.

"You run a tight ship, Viz. I like someone who can operate cleanly."

Vox smiles, a glowing Cheshire grin in the darkness of the lobby.

"How about we have a chat, face to face? I think there might just be a vacancy here with your name all over it."

[themadnesslinkedtoahat]

[heirdrop]

𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗡𝗢𝗧 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟, 𝗬𝗢𝗨'𝗥𝗘 𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟         ╱          @5threquiem

𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝚅𝙸𝙻 𝙸𝚂 𝙸𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝚃𝙰𝙸𝙻𝚂.    (    that's a lie.    the devil is looking right at him,    wearing the visage of kim seunghan.    )

yul wonders how many of them the chairman notices,    if he recognizes mother's touch in this thing    ⸻    the flashes of periwinkle in each table setting,    her counter-clockwise seating charts.    he wonders if the chairman remembers her china and her silverware.    if he recalls that this rooftop bar was where he proposed,    a much less ostentatious affair that should have served as an omen for his first marriage and its tumultuous course.    the woman herself professes to be beyond it all.    she got yul in the end,    a far greater prize than his father.    nice sentiment and pretty words.    doesn't erase the years of daddy issues,    so tough shit.

if yul was his father,    he'd be infinitely more paranoid about a banquet organized by the son he hadn't spoken to in a decade    ⸻    but he supposes that someone already dying wouldn't worry about croaking at some weird bastardization of the red wedding.    and to be fair,    he isn't planning on poisoning and/or stabbing his father.    but it would be nice to see him spooked,    wouldn't it?

lord knows he'd not get anything quite as entertaining from his    ⸻    blegh    ⸻    younger sibling.    his face hurts from smiling at seunghan    (    whether from its sheer cheshire cat width or some allergic reaction to bullshit    ),     his voice frying as he calls out,    ❝    brother!    ❞     the world's most important pair of beady little eyes remains fixed on them,    curved into crescent shapes from a fatherly,    all too pleased grin.    neither spawn is stupid enough to highlight the mendacity.

❝    ah,    you little rascal,    you.    ❞    could yul squeeze the life out of seunghan and get away with it?    oops!    looks like i didn't know my own strength    ⸻    and neither did you,    father.    by the end of this presentation,    you'll    ⸻     yeah.    what a joke.    he thumps seunghan on the back twice.    of course he showed up,    even with only a couple days' notice.    yul knew he should've sent that e-mail on a tuesday.     oh well.    too late now.    ❝    on time,    too!    ❞

it's the closest he can get to a compliment.    anything else would be closing the gap.    they're both smart and charming,    quick and adaptable.    yul is prettier but seunghan is taller.    dad raised one with the kim family's silver spoon and the other clawed his way back into the fray with pure grit.    the choice gets blurrier and blurrier the more he goes on.    that's the opposite of the goal.    so there goes his mission for the night,    yul supposes    ⸻    to serve as their father's handy dandy magnifying glass.     and,    in a stunning display of brotherhood,    seunghan will assist him.

[god-wept]

glorybirth paid with blood.

warnings ; vague references to religious trauma.

author's note! chapter two!! horray!! let's hope I post consistently 😞 anyway drama 😨⁉️ kinda, kinda not

    beneath leather boots is the sound of grass crunching, nikolai walked from his abode to the holy house ; though, it was a decision made out of impulse—mind lacking the clarity of crystal.

 

     as his feet absentmindedly led him to walk the stone pathway, his thoughts linger to a spark that flickered moments prior.

 

     his brain was occupied with an indecipherable thought—he worries, anxiety seeping into the crevices of his mind until the protruded lines that made up his sense of intellect is dirtied with murky negation.

 

      yes, he worries.. yet, what is it that occupies his head so much? what is it that eats up his mind and devours it so?

 

      this cloud—fog, what is it?

 

     the gothic man then pauses, the clacking of boots cease to ring in his ears ; lip between teeth as he gnawed at the flesh, gaze lifting to meet the building he was familiarized with since the day he was birthed onto this land.

 

     the church.

 

     " Oh. " nikolai stops, staring at the building up and down like it had been the very first day he had been brought onto the sacred grounds of God.

 

     It had been years ever since.

 

     suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and ever so slightly did the taller man's figure shake—rattled by the sudden flood of memories that wracked his head like an overwhelming stream of water rushing throughout his body, deprived of the serenity and the familiarity of chastity from God's chalice.

a giggle lets itself pass through clenched teeth.

" It seems you're still the same, hm? " his gaze met the sight of a familiar figure, a grin etched onto his lips as he crossed his arms, visage engraved with a face of amusement.

the latter blinked, moments passing before replicating the same expression from the bulkier build—lips curled into a cheshire grin as dark, violace irises held the same amusement that played across nikolai's eyes.

" I missed you, dearest Fedya. "

@god-wept! do not modify, repost, or translate any of my works.

[tokuteasings]

his pretty web begins

thank you juuga vs olteca trailer for this food for hiromi and i could not stop thinking about this. i might make one for ikki and daiji bc i can and im a simp

Warnings: NSFW and the train did not stop. I’m so sorry. It’s just the reader sucking off Hiromi.

If a temple is where you pray to your gods, your masters, your holy beings whom you devote your entire life to...

Then do not leave this temple, because the snares of the spider have trapped you here. They’re clinging to you, wrapping around your arms and knees and having you prostrating before their maker. 

A soft gasp leaves his lips as he threads a hand through your hair, soft little gasps and moans leaving his lips as a few strands become caught between the gaps. He’s careful to not graze his claws and let them sink deeper and deeper into the brain matter - cracking through skull and bone and tear out your locks.

But the spider’s thighs quiver as you run your tongue upon the underside of his shaft, twitching deliciously as it careens towards you, a flower desperate for the sun it praises every day. It pulses against the entrance to your wet craven, against your Cheshire lips.

A prayer of reverie is uttered from the lips of Hiromi and your hooded eyes glance up at him. “Don’t stop, my love,” your name falls from his lips next as he leans backwards on to the plush bed that you two share - the bed that held you many, many, trysts. 

His visage is painted with delicate strokes of a brush, crimsons dotting spindles of silk against his cheeks and ears - down, down, down to his chest with arisen sensitive nubs just begging to be tongued, to be sucked, to be worshiped and lavished upon. 

The spider has you in his trap now, and he will never let you go. Not that you wanted to be, of course. 

“My love...” It's a murmur of your name, honey upon his lips and nectar to your ears. “Don’t stop...”

He’s almost weeping by the time you take him into your mouth, his head halfway thrown back in this lazy bliss as his taste consumes your soul. His cock shudders within your mouth, and without hesitation you swallow him whole.

It’s a familiar taste that you cannot get enough of. A dazed look crosses his face when you release his length with a gentle pop. 

There is a gentle laugh from the spider who, a glimpse of roles reversed.

Prey and Predator and their sinful little game. 

“Let me take care of you too, my love,” he whispers reverently, ready to worship the deity at their altar after crossing the sun, skies, and sea. 

With offerings of love, adoration, shivering delight; lain out bare before him. 

A feast for the ages. 

[pyromanla]

@eraseur — I’M A 𝐆𝐎𝐃: I’LL MAKE THEM HATE YOU ﹗ˎˊ˗

Fingers curled into a thick, ink hued mane, nails scraping gently along a scalp hidden beneath as the pyro's hand fisted black and tugged, heat swelling to the surface of his skin as his quirk raged with a ferocity—clawed at his epidermis with feral want to be released. His mouth opened, yet no snarky comment was delivered, air pushed from his lungs with a bruising blow while fabric wound its way around the width of his throat, squeezing just right to create a cheshire grin that unfurled along his lips.

"This some kind of kink of yours, Eraser?" His tone held a cocky, teasing drawl, piercing eyes of frigid, calculating cobalt transfixed upon the scruffy man's visage.