#fangs fully displayed

[theonepiecebrainrotisreal]

How does it feel to be on the recieving end of this picture sabo??? The first panel has that same sort of potent judging gaze in it i couldnt resist

ANYWAYS

MY PRAYERS HAVE BEEN RECIEVED AND MY WISHES HAVE COME TO FRUITION!!! I WIN!!!

Water is Thicker Than Blood Chapter 64

Sabo a smart cookie. Sabo not gonna fall for their bullshit

{Start} {Prev Next (coming soon)} {MasterPost}

Drew this whole thing last night and a bit this morning, i usually space it out between a few days, but i was possessed. with the NEED for SP E EED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader part 2

in the girls’ locker room the fluorescent lights buzz overhead. perfume clouds thick in the air. flat irons sizzle, flip phones chirp, and someone in the corner is crying over their boyfriend breaking up with them.

you’re standing in front of your locker. glossy lips pursed, sidekick phone in the pocket of your low rise jeans, your hands pulling your tank top off slow, dramatic, giving the girls (and let’s be real, mostly one girl) a show. dramatic push up, leopard print, hot pink VS bra on full display.

now that girl? ellie williams. corner bench goblin. hoodie up. knees turned in. glasses slipping, lip bitten raw, sketchbook trembling in her lap.

she’s not even pretending anymore. just fully drawing you. boobs front and center. pink glitter gel pen already on standby. there’s a little bubble by your nipples that says:

“soft?? or dangerous??”

then she gasps. you turned your head and looked at her. and because the universe hates her, her stupid clammy hand jerks—

sketchbook goes flying.

sprawled open on the tile.

right at your feet.

you look down. brows furrow. blink. then, slowly, you bend over—boobs still out—and pick it up with two manicured fingers like it’s covered in germs.

“…what the actual f*ck is this.”

ellie’s already stammering. “i-i was just—it’s for a project—i’m in—uh—figure drawing—?”

you hold up the page. “is that supposed to be me? are these my tits?”

she’s practically vibrating. “they’re—they’re really distinctive.”

now, the whole locker room is watching. girls whispering. dina’s jaw is dropped. someone’s filming on their pink razr.

you flip through the sketchbook. pages of you in different bras. different outfits. one of you in a bikini you haven’t even worn yet.

you hold one up. “why am i in a schoolgirl skirt with whipped cream on my chest?”

ellie squeaks. “i—it’s symbolic?”

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “symbolic of what? your weird little loser nut fantasy?”

she shrinks.

“geez,” you mutter. “you’re so pathetic.”

that made ellie wet as if she wasn’t already. she opens her mouth. closes it. opens it again. “i think I’m in love with you,” she says.

you burst out laughing. “no sh*t, perv.”

ellie freezes. she looks like you just stabbed her in the chest with a glittery gel pen.

“wait—hold on—please,” she says, voice going higher than her GPA’s ever been. “you can’t—you can’t keep that.”

you arch a brow, already flipping to the next page. “i absolutely can. possession is, like, nine-tenths of the law. ever heard of it?”

ellie lunges forward instinctively—then thinks better of it. hands up, like she’s in a hostage negotiation. “okay. okay. let’s talk. we can talk. that sketchbook—it’s not safe for the public. you haven’t even seen the worst pages.”

you pause, intrigued. “oh? there’s worse?”

she twitches. visibly. “page sixteen is a crime. i drew that at 3AM while watching wild things and—i wasn’t in my right mind. please.”

you start turning the page. she yelps.

“i’ll pay you!” you glance up. “with what? your lunch tokens?”

“i’ll sell my PS3. i’ll—i’ll do your homework—“ you hold up a page. “is this me… as a sexy vampire?”

ellie visibly short-circuits. “okay, that one was experimental.”

you smirk. “you gave me fangs.”

“it was a metaphor!”

“for what?!”

she just breathes. hard. ragged. “desire?”

you’re wheezing now, flipping faster. “why am I in a maid outfit on this page?”

she slaps her forehead. “that one’s not done! you’re supposed to be stepping on me!”

you look up, stunned.

“i was in a weird place, okay?!”

you cackle, stepping back as she reaches forward again. “if you touch me, i will literally call coach vera and tell her you’re having a pervert episode.”

she groans, dropping her face into her hands. “i was gonna burn it. i swear. i had a lighter and everything and then i remembered i have asthma and the fumes might kill me—”

you flip another page. pause. “is that… my bra on your head?”

she’s now just crouching behind a bench like a feral animal. “i was doing character study.”

you tuck the sketchbook under your arm and fix her with a smile that’s all teeth. “i’m keeping this.”

ellie just whimpers.

you lean in, giggle mockingly, casually evil. “i’m putting sticky notes on the ones i like best.”

she makes a strangled noise. and not in the usual creepy, horny way—this one’s real. “page seventeen has smudges—don’t judge me by that one!”

her shoulders slump. glasses fogged beyond saving. she’s blinking a lot, like she’s trying not to cry. it’s giving tragic victorian orphan. if victorian orphans wore spider-man boxers and thought about your boobs 24/7.

you pause.

“huh.”

it’s not like you feel bad, exactly. but it’s… visible. pathetic, even for her. she’s gone quiet. staring at the floor like the sketchbook was her only shot at happiness and now you’re gonna frame it above your bed like a serial killer trophy.

you sigh. loudly. dramatically. like it pains you to be merciful.

“my goodness, fine.”

you shove the sketchbook toward her chest. “take your little porn diary, freak.”

ellie grabs it like it’s a newborn baby. cradles it. whispers, “thank you” like you just pulled her out of a burning building.

“i don’t want your loser fantasies anyway,” you mutter, tossing your hair, adjusting your bra strap. “half of them didn’t even make sense. why was i riding you with a neon penis in thigh-highs?”

ellie doesn’t answer. she’s too busy clutching the book to her chest like it’s her oxygen supply.

you roll your eyes. “ugh. you’re welcome or whatever.”

she looks up at you, eyes glassy behind her crooked frames.

“…you have a really beautiful soul,” she says.

you just pat her head like a dog. “clean your glasses, williams. you’re fogging up again.”

and with that you flip your hair over your shoulder and start walking away back to your locker, muttering just loud enough for her to hear:

“sick in the head. go draw a tree or something, loser. get a grip.”

just like that, you’re gone—lip gloss shining, the kind of exit that belongs in a teen movie finale. girls part like the red sea. you don’t even look back.

ellie just stands there. silent. cradling her returned sketchbook like it’s the ark of the covenant. knees weak. boxers sticking.

she flips open to page sixteen. stares at the half-finished drawing of you in a silk robe that’s barely on, licking frosting off your finger in a kitchen that says “boobie bakery” on a pink neon sign in the back. you’re surrounded by cupcakes. in the bottom corner, ellie had scribbled in shaky handwriting:

“i’d let her eat me like dessert. respectfully. or not.”

her hand trembles. she closes the sketchbook gently. holds it to her chest. eyes wide. flushed.

you’d seen it. maybe not that one, but enough. enough to know.

and you still gave it back. called her sick in the head, sure. but didn’t kill her. ellie sinks to the bench.

her chest is tight.

her glasses are fogging again.

she’s pretty sure her boxers are ruined forever.

she whispers, “she noticed me…”

then slowly slumps against the locker, eyes wide, cheeks pink, heart doing backflips.

she’s never been more down bad in her life.

and tragically? she’s only gonna get worse.

taglist : @deliciouslydeviantsatan, @valeisaslut, @lovelessswan, and @dollinrehab. lmk if uu wanna be added. :)

[butterfly-wingss]

Medicine.

prev part | next part

Jason fucking hated making this call but he had too. “Can’t get to the phone right now leave a message. BEEEEEEP”

Of course, of fucking course “Hey, Danny,” he shakes out through ragged breaths. “I- I need more ecto, I- its just. I need”

He felt like an addict, calling him up begging for something to make him feel alive. It’s pathetic, he’s pathetic.

Pain shoots through him in a flash. A burning fire in his bones, smoke in his lungs. ‘Withdrawals’ something dangerous in the back of his mind whispers.

“Find me when you’re free yeah?” Jason is barely able to get out before collapsing.

————

Danny hated how his fraid never asked for help until it was too late.

He dose the same but that’s irrelevant.

By the time he got to Jason he was curled up in a corner, scratching at his chest.

Danny gently took the other mans hands in his. “I’m here Jay,” rubs small circles into his hands. “I got the ecto.”

Jason bares his teeth then cowers further into the corner. “We can fight if you want?”

He tries to yank his hands back but otherwise doesn’t try to fight. Danny bundles him up in his arms. Jason squirms but doesn’t thrash like he used too. That’s good.

He situates them so that Jason is in his lap held in place with Danny’s arms and legs. He hates it but they both agreed that its important that Jason get his ecto; heads in duffle bags after all.

He tips Jason’s head back and gives him the ecto shot. He doesn’t need to force it down, once the body realises what it is he gulps it down and practically begs for more, if its this bad he probably needs it.

Danny gives him another shot. He squirms a little more, mostly just turning around in Danny’s hold until he’s crying into him.

“’M sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” He mumbles. Holding Danny’s shirt tight.

“It’s okay.” He runs a hand through Jason’s hair. “Let’s get you to bed yeah? I promise it’ll be more comfortable.”

———— Jason wake up groggily and slowly. His chest is warm. His pillow is ice cold.

Danny.

He doesn’t want to get up yet. He just wants to lay here, ice and fire in equilibrium. Once he fully wakes he has to be Jason, the red hood, the phoenix knight.

A knight can’t live in this moment. He can’t force that of his king. Jason’s just being needy. He got the ecto and now he needs more, needs the gentle touches Danny always give him, need the comfort of his presence, needs the very air in his lungs.

Jason’s greedy. He’s addicted. He’s violent and he should never have been made a knight. They were kids, they shouldn’t have been able to decide.

Cold fingers rake through his hair “You should have called me before, why don’t you ever call me before you need me…” Jason doesn’t reply.

He doesn’t want to wake up, he doesn’t want Danny to stop. “I love you, I don’t want you to hurt.”

It’s not like that, Jason reminds himself. He knows Danny doesn’t love him like he wants. Danny loves all his fraid. It didn’t mean anything. A protector spirits love is a blessing, especially one so powerful.

He doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t even notice, but he leans into Danny more. What he does notice is Danny’s please little hum. Jason allows himself a few more minutes to be greedy.

Eventually though he has to wake. “Good morning.”

“Danny.” he mumbled. Shit, he can’t do this.

“You feeling better?” Icy fingers still run through his hair. This is unfair. He needs to move.

“Breakfast, what’d you want?” it take every ounce of his self control to get up. He faintly notes he’s in sweats and and one of his biggest hoodies instead of his Red Hood gear. He can’t let the thought linger.

“I’ll eat anything you make, your cooking’s amazing.” Danny says with a bright grin, adorable fangs on full display. Fuck this was gonna be difficult.

————

Jason made pancakes, he didn’t do much, Alfred gave him a jar of pancake mix all he did was add milk and eggs and it was ready.

They eat and made pleasant conversation about what they’ve done since they last saw each other, Jason steering far away from his night life. Eventually they finished up, Danny insists on washing the dishes and practically shoves Jason into the shower.

When Jason comes back out to the living room there’s a pillow fort set up on his couch and Princess Bride ready to go on his TV.

“Danny.” It’s barely a breath but Danny still hears it.

“Jay. Oh hot chocolate or coffee? You have a bunch of tea too but I don’t understand tea so you might be better off making your own if you want some. Or you could show me.” No one smiles like that in Gotham.

All causal and soft and blindingly bright. Either you can’t afford to smile, so anytime you do it takes all the energy out of you. Or you’re rich enough to by a plastic smile and plaster it on constantly.

The only good thing about living with B was finding out those rich fucks were as miserable as Alley kids.

“I can do it, just start the movie.”

“He says like it’s not his favourite.” Danny mocks.

The spend the rest of the day in their little fort. Watching movies, eating snacks, all cuddled up.

It’s not good for Jason’s heart or his sanity but he’s greedy. He doesn’t want to push Danny away so he’ll take what he can get. Even if it feel like being stabbed every time he lets go. Even if it’ll be impossibly colder without this block of ice next to him. He’ll take it. And he’ll hold the memories close like they could provide a fraction of the comfort Danny so freely gives him.

[musicalnobody]

The Ghost You Fed - Ch. 1

bunny hybrid!reader X cane corso hybrid!simon "ghost" riley ⋆ Call of Duty ⋆MDNI⋆ 4.2k words ⋆ 18+, explicit in future chapters ⋆ tags to be added as story progresses ⋆

⋆ pinterest board ⋆ AO3 link ⋆ next ⋆

Summary: Being a service animal is all you've ever known, being spoiled as a treat for all you do for your owner. So what happens when you see something, or rather someone, you can't have? (Inspired by 'it will come back' by hozier)

Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, eventual smut, kind of icky simon, stalking, past character death, reader is so spoiled, drug dealing, dog fighting, breaking and entering, semi-public masturbation

A/N: WOOOO NEW FIC TIME!!! To give a little heads up, I will be using italics to indicate sign language between the reader and her owner. There isn’t going to much of a description for the reader, but your hair is fairly long, and your ear and tail color are mentioned, you are also chubby bc come on, a little old lady with a hybrid? She’s gonna fatten you right up. In this universe hybrids have ears, tails, and some have claws and canine fangs. Heats and ruts also exist within this universe but without the whole omegaverse thing. The rest you’ll figure out along the way!

Being a service animal was easy enough. Tell her when someone was at the door, translate when you were out in public, comfort her when she was having a rough day, and in exchange you got pampered. It truly was an easy life.

Agnes had adopted you when you were just a kit, only five years old. She wasn’t fully deaf at the time, able to start teaching you sign language at a young age. She was the kindest woman you had ever met. Her hearing had fully deteriorated when you were 12 years old. Crying for hours at a time when she finally broke the news to you, never being much of a tough one.

She still tried her best to teach you all that she could, cooking and cleaning as well as hobbies like reading, writing, and crocheting fun little projects. You were quite spoiled, and you knew it, having you own room but preferring to sleep at the end of Agnes’ large bed, having a whole closet filled with frilly outfits, getting to be paraded about outside.

Your crème-colored fur doesn’t get dirty anymore, baths becoming a part of your routines. Agnes brushes your hair afterwards, having you sit in front of your vanity while she does. You always feel so special when she does this, especially when she gently grabs your droopy ears to brush out as well, leaving them all fluffy for you. When Agnes starts entering you in beauty pageants, you’re over the moon, pleased that your owner thinks so highly of you. You learn tricks, you show them how competent you are, how nice your coat is.

You display the awards proudly in your room.

Despite being out so often, Agnes didn’t have many friends. Just a couple childhood friends who would visit every now and then, her kids living on opposite sides of the country. They would have tea parties, none of them having hybrids of their own so you were left to bask in their attention. The scratches at your ears and tummy were what you lived for.

You were never bad, always following the rules and orders around the house, helping when needed. You were an easy bunny to take care of, Agnes couldn’t of asked for better. You had gotten your service animal papers the day you turned 13, and Agnes had given you a frilly vest that she had hand-sewed so everyone would know that’s exactly what you were. You wore the vest until the day the seams ripped, and it wouldn’t go over your arms anymore. That’s when she made you a new one.

It was a rainy day, one reserved for baking. Today, you had decided to surprise Agnes with Manchester tarts, some of her favorites. These bite sized deserts had a shortcrust pastry shell spread with raspberry jam, covered with a custard filling and topped with flakes of coconut and a Maraschino cherry. They made the whole house smell like warm raspberries and pastry, something you certainly weren’t complaining about.

You sat up in your room, brushing out your hair after deciding what to wear. Since you weren’t going outside, you decided on a frilly pink top with flowers decorating it, a short white layered skirt with white bloomers under it, and two pink lacy garters sitting atop your thighs. You wore dangly earrings with pink raspberries on the end, as well as a pearl necklace with a matching charm that went well with your pink collar sitting around your neck, proudly displaying your name. You quickly put some mascara on and some lip tint, popping your lips in the mirror. A chill went up your spine and you flicked your eyes to gaze behind you in the mirror, attributing it to the wind from your open window.

You walk downstairs, seeing Agnes knitting you a pink and white striped sweater on the recliner. Going up to her and tapping her on the shoulder, you tell her what you’re doing.

“Going to make us treats today” You signed as you smiled. You watched as Agnes returned the smile and nodded, indicating that she was going to continue knitting. You skipped off to the kitchen, since you were a bunny hybrid, you were only about 5 feet, and that was on the taller side. This meant that you often had to use the stool to grab different ingredients. You looked behind you again as another chill went up your spine, but this time there wasn’t a window open. You chalked it up to the heating not being high enough after not seeing anything.

Throwing the flour, diced butter, white fat and icing sugar together, you began the pastry. Mixing in the water, you then let it set for 30 minutes, idly watching the tv. When the timer finally went off, you leapt up, running to the kitchen. You opened the window behind you so the kitchen didn’t get too hot when you turned on the oven, setting a towel in front so that rain didn’t get on the floor.

After pre-heating the oven to 190°C and putting the baking beans in the tart, you twirled around and put the tart in the oven for another 20 minutes. After taking the baking beans out and letting it cook for another 7 minutes, you took it out and spread the jam along the bottom, sprinkling the coconut atop of it.

You made the custard, boiling the mixture and adding vanilla to taste before pouring it through a sieve. You stirred it for a few minutes, letting it cool, before pouring it into the tart. You sprinkled the top with the rest of the coconut before setting it out and letting it cool. These desserts were something that Agnes had spent plenty of time teaching you how to learn, so much so that you could do it by heart at this point. You set the timer for four agonizing hours and then pranced over to Agnes, kneeling beside her chair to receive the occasional pet as you began your own little crochet project.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon had known the streets long before he knew the regimen of the military. When his mother had passed and his brother fell into drugs, he left. Hybrids like him weren’t treated too kindly, as he wasn’t easily trainable, he wasn’t as obedient and desperate to please like some of the others. Simon found spots in alleys, abandoned buildings, and the occasional hybrid-friendly motel if he saved enough money. But that never lasted long.

When the military found him, he’d had a run in with some old “tamers” that were trying to capture him, he had fought back and paid the consequence, long lashes scattering his arms and back. Price had taken him right under his wing. Teaching him how to be a proper K-9 unit, watching him surpass that and being let on the field without a handler. Being able to be trusted with gun. Everything was going great for Simon. Until the death of his best friend.

Soap’s passing had left such a vengeance in his heart that he was forced to be honorably discharged, they feared what a man like him would be able to do if set off. They had tried to get him housing but nowhere would take his breed. The only option being those damned trainers and underground hybrid fighting rings. Simon quickly realized he could make a quick buck by entering these fights. Learning that he didn’t need a handler when he already knew how to fight. He had plenty of offers, but always snarled at them, telling them to fuck off, that he knew what he was doing.

So, there he was, a world-class soldier now turned into a common stray. Resorting to illegal fighting and other ventures to line his pockets. There was a fresh bruise blooming under his eye, the last fight ending just a couple hours ago. Simon would find a place to sleep for a few hours before moving again, not wanting to stay in one place for too long.

When he woke up to the rain, it was just another day for him, though he noted he would have to stop by a laundromat for his current clothes, thankful for the extra outfit in his backpack. It was early in the morning when he was hopping the roofs of the city. Most of the lights down because of the weather. It wasn’t until he stopped to catch his breath that he noticed the house across the street.

A small baby blue house sat in his line of sight, a lamp illuminating a room on the second story. Having been perched at the far end of the building across the street, he crept closer to the edge. That’s when he saw it, or rather, you.

You were brushing your hair with a brush that looked straight out of the Victorian era, like you were a princess. You were sitting in front of your vanity in an outfit that had Simon snarling. The garters that were sitting on your thighs were things he wanted to take off with his own teeth. He sat there, staring at you as you brushed out your, oh. Oh. You were a little bunny hybrid. He hadn’t noticed your tail tucked under you before, or your floppy little ears until you pulled them out to brush. If your window wasn’t open, Simon would’ve started to howl, but for fear of scaring your owner, let alone you, he didn’t.

He watched as you shivered, ducked as you turned to look out the window. His call sign proving its significance at this moment, his ability to disappear within a blink of an eye. He peeked his head back up, watching as you left your room and bounced down the stairs, truly getting a grasp of how small you were. He groaned, long and heavy. You were perfect. Your skirt was tantalizingly short, bloomers covering what he wanted to see most.

When he lost sight of you in the living room? Well, it was time to move. He snuck down, thankful for the bushes that surrounded your house, and peered in. He noticed your hands moving animatedly until it actually hit him. You were signing. Your owner was deaf. Simon quickly thanked whatever God was out there that he had less of a chance of being caught if he was howling, less chance of getting caught when sneaking around. He watched as you went into the kitchen, moved to the window next to him so he could see you better.

Simon was aware this made him nothing short of a creep, but he was addicted to you. He watched as you stood atop your stool, watched as your body realized someone was staring at you while he ducked down. The thrill was enough to get his breathing ragged, grateful that there weren’t windows open next to him. Popping back up to watch you throw together the dough, hiding when you opened the window next to him. Staring intently as you waited right next to your owner, wanting it to be him giving you all the desperate pets you wanted. The smell of your baking was starting to become more prominent as you put the pastry in the oven.

He could smell the raspberry jam being spread on the tart, matching your cute little earrings that he was getting a close eye of. He watched as you sprinkled the coconut on the tart before starting on the custard. The smell was fantastic, and Simon had a pretty good idea of what you were making by now. A Manchester tart. He hadn’t tasted one in years. His mother had used to make them when he was younger, holiday dinners and such. He was damn near ecstatic when he realized that’s what you were making, already looking for the weak points in your house.

⋆🐾⋆

Waiting for the tart to cool was agonizing. No matter how much crocheting you could do or how much music you could listen to, you were moping around the house bored. Agnes took pity on you, looking down at you as you tapped your foot against the ground,

“Impatient, love?”

“I just know they’re going to taste so good!” You signed back, emphasizing your words by making fireworks with your hands. Agnes simply chuckled before ruffling your hair.

“Good things come to those who wait” Her famous line being signed as you went to lay back down, continuing your little project as you waited for the timer to go off.

When the timer finally pinged, you jumped to your feet. Grabbing the pie slicer, you cut the tart into 10 equal pieces, dishing out you and Agnes a piece. Grabbing your signature mini fork and handing Agnes her piece, you dug in.

Your teeth sunk into the tart, a happy noise coming out of your mouth, it was delicious. The buttery crust melted on your tongue, the tart raspberries pulling it together, and the coconut adding a hint of extra flavor. “It’s so good” You signed to Agnes as you continued to eat. Agnes simply smiled at you before grabbing a slice of her own, making her own noise of happiness when she sunk her teeth in.

“I think you’ve learned how to make it better than me.” Agnes signed back at you, a look of proudness on her face. You smiled, big and wide, happy to please your owner so much. This was the best Manchester tart you’ve ever made, and you knew it. Putting the rest in Tupperware and putting it into the fridge, you shut the door gently.

“I’m going to go take a bath!” You signed to Agnes before bouncing upstairs, opening the door to the bathroom. Opening the window a tad, you started to strip your outfit off, making sure you had 2 fluffy towels to welcome you when you got out. You started filling the tub with hot water, just a bit hotter than comfortable so it wouldn’t get cold too fast. The large claw-foot tub held you easily as you stepped foot in the hot water. You sighed heavily and swung your other foot over, gently setting yourself down.

You began your routine by shampooing your hair and ears, the strawberry shortcake scent starting to permeate the room. You lathered your hair until it was soapy, scrubbing at your ears gently. You went to rinse your hair and felt the familiar chill down your spine despite the water being hot. You wanted to close the window, worrying that that was the problem, but you know the room will get too steamy if you do, so you decide to leave it open.

You then moved onto conditioning your hair, the matching scent adding to the smell in the air. Your hair and fur instantly felt silkier, the bubbles now surrounding you. You grabbed your scrubbing brush and put your vanilla scented soap on it before beginning to scrub yourself down. Using your hands on more sensitive areas, you traced over the area lightly, mewling softly.

Draining the water and closing the window, you pattered over to your room. Putting on a cute little matching set with a sheer pink nightdress on top, you pranced around the house feeling like a princess. You skipped down the stairs to see Agnes. Who simply smiled at your appearance, your hair still drying.

“You look beautiful my dear.” You smiled right back at her, all teeth and giggles. You pranced over to the cabinets, once again grabbing the stool to grab one of your pink bowls with white bunnies all over it. You set the bowl on the counter before grabbing the tub of neapolitan ice cream and scooping 3 large spoonsful into your bowl. Putting the tub back before grabbing a spoon and glancing at what Agnes was watching

It was one of her soap operas, a tale of a hybrid and her handler who lived out in the country, escaping from the crime they were used to. In this particular episode, the avian hybrid was being approached by a large feline hybrid from the opposing organized crime group, you tried to avoid the screen, the scene starting to cause you anxiety.

“More sweets?” Agnes signed as she smiled warmly at you, making sure you knew she wasn’t being judgmental. You nodded, offering her a bite before trotting back upstairs.

Sitting on your bed watching tv, you were kicking your feet in the air as you shoveled spoonful after spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, letting out little mewls and moans at the delicious taste. The movie was just starting, an old silent fairytale that you had seen over and over. Despite the film being old, there were still hybrids in it, having them be the two helping hands that assisted the soon to be princess in getting ready. The scene made you happy, not often getting good representation in the media, hence why this was a comfort film.

But your mind started to become occupied with other things, the movie not holding your attention very well. You tried to write in your diary, writing about how you had baked for the day, coming up with ideas on how to modify the Manchester tart. You wrote about how nice your bath was, how you needed to get more bubble bath solution. You wrote about all the mundane things that happened throughout your day, talking about how you were excited for the summer trip only a few months away, really trying to wind down.

That was until a too familiar chill slipped down your spine again, and you had enough. You stomped overed to your window, thankful that Agnes wasn’t able to hear your steps, and glared out into the open sky.

“Will you stop that!” You said loudly, looking at the moon as the rain that had been pouring down all day continued.

⋆🐾⋆

Simon crept around the house for another hour, successfully finding the back door unlocked and a way to access the upper roof so he could peek into your window. He would come back once the Manchester tarts were done cooling off. For now, he had stuff to do. At least, that’s what he told himself as he tore his body away from the window.

He was a simple man; he had to make money somehow. At least, that’s what he told himself as he gave the next sorry soul another dose of whatever high they were after. If the military could see him now, they’d be ashamed, but pushing drugs was an easy and quick fix. It wasn’t weird to wear hoods that hid his ears and masks that obscured his face, especially when he was dealing with heat suppressants, some of the most illegal drugs on the market.

When hybrids first started appearing in the general market, heat and rut suppressants were encouraged, often being prescribed when a hybrids cycle was especially rough or aggressive. But as more side effects got added and other alternatives were created, they slowly withdrew from popularity, now only being used as heavy birth control. There were also multiple brands that were illegal, brands that Simon was all too familiar with.

While he also pushed “normal” drugs such as coke or weed, there was a much higher demand for suppressants. The more he sat and thought about his profession, the more he thought about you. Wondering if you even had a heat anymore, or if they took your glands away from you when you were deemed unfit to be anything more than a pet, yet another solution they had come up with.

Simon had been offered the surgery when he first entered the military, but he flat out refused. He didn’t like his ruts, as they often fell under the aggressive category, but he would often have someone accompany him or at least keep him locked up. He had found someone that he consistently spent his ruts with, and that’s when the military’s offer came to taunt him, asking after the death of—

He shook himself out of his train of thought, busying it with you again. How your room had been covered in bows and frills, pink and cream, florals, a princess’s dream. How although not in a great part of the city, your house was still perfectly put together. So fitting for the two of you. The yellow and white kitchen looked like it came straight out of a 1950’s nostalgic catalogue, and suddenly he was imagining himself behind you as you baked sweet treats for them.

He was yet again getting too far ahead of himself, hell, he didn’t even know your name. Strays like him weren’t welcome in homes like that, he didn’t have the manners to stay within that little home. He would sink his teeth in to rip and tear at the seams. He would destroy anything he touched. And with him not being a proper working dog, well he just couldn’t let you into this life. That’s when he decided he would stay far, far away from you. Watching you only when it was safe to do so.

After three agonizing hours of wandering around the city collecting clients and thinking to himself, Simon realized that he could return to your neighborhood, return to his bunny. Ducking into his position in the overgrown bushes, he watched as you placed the first bite into your mouth, hearing the faint sound of your overjoyed squeal at the success of the pie. Your voice was a melody he was already getting accustomed to, wanting to be the reason why those sweet sounds came out of your mouth.

He watched as you finished your slice of the tart before signing something to Agnes and bounding up the stairs. It was his time to strike. Pushing open the window his was ducked under, Simon hastily climbed into the kitchen, his hulking body making too much noise for his comfort, once again grateful for Agnes’ lack of hearing.  He quickly swung open the fridge door to grab one of the Tupperware containers before dipping right back outside.

It wasn’t until he made his wander into the backyard that he realized what you must have signed to Agnes. A bath. You were bathing yourself. He couldn’t see much from the backyard, thanking the cramped alleyways of Manchester allowing him to climb the roof of the house behind yours. Giving him a perfect view into— Oh.

The bathroom window was slightly ajar, enough for the faint smell of strawberries to drift over to Simon’s nose and fuck was he already planning how many pups he was going to give you, wondering if they would be little kits or pups, wondering how you would look so round and— Christ you had a way of doing that to him. Making him space out and dream about realities that could never happen with a mutt like him. Not someone so dirty. Nor someone so depraved.

He watched as you washed your hair, taking extra time with your ears, not being able to rip his eyes off you. He glanced away when you washed your body, still wanting to be respectful to you, but you made it difficult. The second he smelled that sweet vanilla body wash he came undone, writhing on the roof before tearing himself away from the picture of you, finally giving you privacy.

He walked back to the house that was across the street, perching on that roof as he ate the Manchester tart. He had to bite his tongue from letting out an overjoyed howl at the first bite, it instantly bringing him back to his childhood. He devoured it in only a couple bites, not having the patience to savor the treat. He would have to remind himself to take another slice tomorrow, before the two of you ate it all.

When he was finished with the tart, he glanced into your room, only to be shocked to see you sprawled out on your stomach in a sheer pink nightgown, kicking your feet back and forth as you ate your ice cream, one treat not enough for you. He growled quietly; you looked simply divine. Cream colored bikini cut underwear with rows of frills caressing your ass, a matching bralette holding in your pretty tits. The sheer nightgown did little to cover you, having little accents of cream-colored lace as well. It just barely covered your ass, leaving so little to the imagination that it had Simon fuming.

But then you were writing in that diary, and all Simon could think of was those pouty lips around him, how silky your hair would be around his calloused fingers, how soft your skin would be. And when you called out into the night? Trying to get his prying eyes off you? Well, he just couldn’t stop himself from cuming right into his hand, wishing he had cum into your pretty little mouth instead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘

taglist:

@hughjackmanadict

[dmitriene]

cw: smut at the end, age gap if you squint, di leon appearance.

mechanic leon scott kennedy, a man well known in the area for his wretched past, as well as the fact that he chose a more comfortable and tranquil lifestyle over becoming an agent many had anticipated him to be, preffering to spend the majority of his time undercarriage, tinkering with broken, unfortunate pieces of iron, cars, motorcycles, and trucks, getting covered in layers of machine oil and grease.

years of military service did him good, even though he is no longer so young, brown hair has darkened and grown out in messy layers, his round, ruddy face has become sharper than a knife, sporting a rough, silvering stubble that gives him a certain charm, he still maintains excellent physical condition and good control over his body, shoulders are broad, tapering down to large, beefy biceps, body is chiseled, displaying every muscle to ogle over, the ribbed tank tops he tipically wears doing well at properly highlighting all contours of his body, fair skin reflecting the intense sun, pale painting of scars that criscross over the arms catch the sunlight.

the thing is, leon is quite aware of his looks and how women react to him, more often than not, without concealing his own qenuine interests beneath a facade of coy smiles and sidelong, appreciative gazes, he's just a man, after all, so he enjoys his modest popularity without compunction, and when you pull up to his workshop with a smoking hood and eyes full of desperate panic, he greets you with a cautious smile and a soft reassurance on his lips, stretched into a smile that balances on a sharp fanged grin, which diverts your attention from the squint of his blue, all consuming eyes, not letting you see the almost perverted excitement there.

your eyes are rounded and nearly shiny like polished glass as tears well up in them, this is a brand new car, and it's unexpected and sudden breakdown cannot but frighten, because the price was big, and the repair itself can end up costing a pretty penny, and you've saved up so hard for it, but all your panicked, nearly choking speech can't help but amuse him just a little, poor, sweet thing you are, so stressed up over an issue he can repair in less than a day, yet he has to confess, leon enjoys being able to soothe you and convince you that everything is good, he won't charge you too much, and you shouldn't worry about the vehicle to the point of crying, just trust him and watch him work.

leon doesn't work for the money, but for the pleasure he derives from seeing young, sweet girls like you entangled in his weight, clothes ripped apart to expose their tender skin, bruised from passionate kisses, throat raspy from pitched keens as he dives down to press his nose into a spot that makes them pull at his hair and legs spread wider, cunt oozing and pulsing, pressed against his eagerly devouring mouth, and when he glances to the side to check where your gaze is wandering, he is not surprised to meet your wide eyed gaze tracing over his flexing muscles, the curve of his hip as he shifts his weight to one leg, rolling his broad shoulders, making you turn away, charmingly embarrassed, and he is not at all surprised, actually quite pleased, to see your thighs clench.

you weren't supposed to end up in your own car, pressed against your own seat, with your legs dangling over leon's shoulders, muscles flexing beneath with the time your toes curl, each jagged exhale turning into a reedy, gasping moan, panting, keening in a quick, capturing kisses he presses against your wide open, round shaped lips, cunt fluttering spread around the sheer girth of his cock, long and throbbing, dissapearing fully into the perfectly tight, sopping heat of your pulsing, clutching hole, hips snapping to bruise, make you feel each thrust, spill down your little whines, dazed on the sensations, head lolling back.

and if you leave his workshop all disheveled and with legs trembling, weak hands that can hardly hold the wheel beneath your fingers, restless in your seat due to the dampness in your panties from the cum that drips out of your still gaping cunt, soaking the thin fabric of your underwear, it's because his service was satisfactory, and the innocently teasing kiss that he plants on your flushed cheek, prickling the sensitive skin with his stubble, means that he will eagerly wait for you to, perhaps, visit him again.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[sunflowersteves]

Secretly thinking about Hobies/Miguels thigh obsession

Ithe reader’s got THICK thick thighs and he keeps playing w them

Either way,

He loves..

squeezing, pinching them, nipping at them anywhere n anytime he can

laying between your thighs, he’d place his head between your boobs

getting his head between ur thighs , tightening the grip on his head while eating u out

When sitting on his face you’re afraid you’d suffocate him with you thighs “Then I would die a happy man”

oh my god 😫

pairing || miguel o’hara x fem!reader

warnings || soft!miguel, fluff, SMUT, thigh biting, miguel has a thigh kink, thigh fucking, oral sex (fem receiving), dom x sub, [18+ ONLY]

masterlist

Miguel knew he was obsessed—that much was completely clear as day. He couldn’t stop his eyes from trailing down to your thighs as they jiggled with each step. He couldn't help when his hands tightened around them, unable to fully wrap his large hand around the plush skin. 

It drove him fucking insane. 

“Cariño,” His voice was quiet in concentration, “y’need to stop moving.” 

You squirmed in his lap, legs perched up across his thighs. While you were watching TV, Miguel had a book in one hand, eyes scanning the page. However, for the past ten minutes, Miguel had been kneading into your thighs. He would squeeze them, feel them, and occasionally pinch them. 

His reading glasses slightly slid down his curved nose. His head was turned to you, ruby eyes intense with just the smallest of smirks across his lips. It was so distracting—he and his hands flushed up against your legs.

“Can’t read with you moving all around like that.” He says coolly. His voice was deep and gruff, the eye contact never wavering. You could feel yourself squirm again. Your body felt increasingly hot as his eyes gravitated towards his lap. He watched you move your thighs once more, and he subconsciously licked his lips. 

His large hand sunk deep into the molding flesh, creating the indents of his fingers into your skin. “Miggy—” 

He slapped his book shut and tossed it onto the coffee table. You let out a gasp as he moved so fast you hardly knew what was happening. Miguel had maneuvered himself so your thighs were slung over his shoulder, and he was crouched down so his chest met the couch. 

“Too fucking distracting.” He growls. His hands go to re-grip your thighs once more, spreading them apart. “Your fucking thighs—”

He cuts his own self off as he starts to kiss your thighs. Sometimes he couldn’t believe how much he craved them—how much he thought about them completely enveloping his face. 

He loved when he could kiss them and put his fangs in them. He loved to see the indent of the way his teeth punctured your skin. 

He could feel his cock jump at the sight of them on display for him. He could picture the sweet memory of last night when he had his slick cock in between your thighs and fucked up into them. 

“Fuck, Miguel—” Your hands reach to his hair and pull. He lets out a groan, tongue swirling around your supple skin. 

He unsheathed his fangs and grazed them over the meat of your thighs. He watched as you gasped, head falling back. His hands continued to mold around the flesh, and he groaned, hips bucking into the couch. 

“So fucking thick,” he murmurs. “So fucking good to me, cariño.” 

He goes to kiss your mound, covered by panties and a pair of shorts. You whimpered, watching his glossy lust-filled eyes gaze at the skin before him. 

He lets out one of his claws, hand in the middle of the air, before ripping your shorts in half. “Miguel!” You scold. Another pair of pants and underwear were destroyed. Again. 

He doesn’t waste time, ignoring your scolding. He dips his tongue into your folds and growls at the wetness that sticks to your walls. “Taste—” He licks up to your clit and swirls the swollen bud. “So fucking—” His fingers press deeper into your thighs. “Good.” He gasps. 

Your thighs instinctively get tighter around his head, and he could practically feel his eyes roll in the back of his head. His head backs up as far as possible—wild eyes looking aflame. 

“Baby?” You say, concerned. He looked at you for a bit longer. Your eyes were hazy, your face looking completely fucked out. You had been squirming in his lap for some time, and he relished in the feeling of your body becoming hotter and hotter.

His eyes flashed. “Do it again.” He demands. 

You furrowed your eyebrows. “Do what?” You were being genuine—not the innocent bratty nature that he was so used to. 

“Put your thighs around my head. Again.” He growled out the last part of the sentence. His cock twitched again at the sight of your thighs wrapped around him. 

Your hand subconsciously lightly tugs on his hair. “B-but, Miguel.” Your eyes flicker away from him. “I’ll crush you.”

He takes a good look at you once more. He then chuckles under his breath before kneading your thighs again. 

“Good. I want you to.” He pressed his lips back onto your slick and pushed a tongue between your folds. “I want you to crush my fucking head, cariño.”

He taps your thigh in an inpatient manner, the other hand teasing your entrance with a finger. “Do I make myself clear?” 

“Y-yes, Miguel.” 

He pleasantly hums. “Now sit back and wrap your thighs around me. Be my good girl.” 

You didn’t need to be told twice. 

[lacedinweb22]

Valentine’s Day ❦︎ (smutty one-shot) ❦︎⋆˙⊹ ❦︎ ⋆˙⊹ Miguel O’Hara x Fem!reader

nsfw 18+ ୨୧

You come back from work, feet sore, back sore, in need of him.

First thing you notice are the flowers on the kitchen counter. A massive assortment of red roses, with a note sticking out. “Happy Valentine’s Day, mi princesa. You’re my valentine today and everyday,” your cheeks are warm. You put the note down, slowly taking your shoes off as you look around. “Forever” by The Little Dippers leaks out of your bedroom.

You walk down the hall, slowly opening the door.

There he is. Hair tousled from running a stressed hand through so many times, a snug white button up rolled up at his forearms, muscles on display, black slacks, and a black leather belt… perfect. He’s pouring moscato into the wine glasses on the dresser, he looks up at you calmly, the calm you so desperately needed after a day like today. His eyes soften as they lay on you.

“Baby,” you exhale, walking into him. “Hermosa,” he sits the moscato bottle down, leaning down into you, breathing in the smell of your hair. You dig your face into his chest. The smell of his cologne makes you weak. His hands are snug around your waist, holding you tightly against him. You look up at him, he leans down, your lips meet in the middle.

He strokes your hair, “I’m sorry you had to work today, but I’ll make it up to you,” he whispers before kissing you again. You nod.

You lean against the dresser, he hands you a glass. It’s your favorite moscato. He keeps one hand on your waist, still holding you, as he picks up his glass with the other hand. “Happy Valentine’s, Y/N,” he smiles, tapping his glass to yours. “Happy Valentine’s, Miguel.” His eyes are on yours as you sip. You put it down, then start to take off your coat. He notices and immediately goes behind you, helping you take it off.

“Think I’m gonna change,” you mutter, moving your hair to the front, as he helps you.

You start to unbutton your blouse, but stop when he drops to his knees, slowly unbuttoning your pants. You look down at him, hands in his hair. His eyes are now on your black lace panties, as he slowly pulls your pants down. His fingers trace underneath the thin cloth on your hips, fingers massaging your skin. You don’t feel the need to change anymore. He stands back up, looking at the black lace bra now exposed under your button-up. He smirks, fangs on display, then leans down into your neck, sucking gently. His hands wrap around the back of your thighs and he picks you up like you weigh nothing.

You make out, taste the moscato on his lips. He lays you on your bed, then crawls on top of you, now hovering over you, hips touching, his hard-on pressing into your underwear. You moan into his mouth, as his fingers grip your waist tightly.

“Need you,” you moan in between kisses. He kisses your neck, “I’m here, baby, you can have me,” he mutters lowly into your skin. You look down and unbuckle his belt; he watches you, brushing the hair out of your face.

Finally, he’s in just his boxer briefs, and you can see so much through the stressed cloth. “We have reservations at 7:00,” he whispers in between kisses. “We have time,” you whisper back. He moans in your mouth as you grab him from out of his boxers, and press him against your heat.

He kisses down your neck as you pull his hips into yours, trailing down to your shoulder, pulling your blouse to the side.

He enters slowly, only half of him in you. He bites your shoulder, moaning into your skin. “Missed you, Mig,” you moan, as he slowly inches in and out of you, letting you adjust. “Missed how big you are,” you whine.

He kisses you, then slowly enters, now fully, you both moan at the pressure. He thrusts in and out, kissing you hard.

It’s slow and passionate, and you feel every inch of him intensely. He groans into your ear, “Been thinking about you all day. You feel so good, chula.”

The music is still playing on the record player; he digs his face in your neck.

He slides one hand down to your heat, rubbing at your core. “Does that feel good for you, my girl? Like that?” he groans, which you bite your lip in response, suppressing your gasps.

Perfect pressure and perfect fullness begin to bring you to your end. You start to unravel; you wrap your legs around him, bringing him closer, deeper.

He sucks on your neck, then pulls away to whisper into your mouth, “Baby, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” you exhale, slowly finishing around him.

He throbs inside of you, filling you up. You bite his lip, moans filling the room.

*im drunk AF and I’m ending it here LOVE Y’ALL so much 💌 HAPPY VALENTINE’S 💋💋💋* -G

[nanamineedstherapy]

Ooga Booga Battle Royale

F!Reader x Pre-Historic Neanderthal JJK daddies (Gojo Satoru, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru, Zenin Toji & Ryomen Sukuna)

Summary: Prehistoric, period-accurate Neanderthal JJK daddies fighting over you? With grunts, rocks, & zero verbal communication? Say less.

Trigger Warnings (May contain spoilers for the story): Fighting, Crack, Non-Graphic Violence, Maybe some death but not in a gruesome way-more in a comedy way.

You exist.

That is the problem.

In the grand, majestic, bacteria-infested wilderness, you—a Homo sapien woman—have committed the ultimate sin by having the audacity to be alive in the same vicinity as five of the most terrifying Neanderthal men to ever grunt their way through existence.

And worse? You smell good.

Which, in prehistoric terms, means war.

A cool wind howls through the valley. Birds scream. The grass shudders like it knows something stupid is about to happen.

Then—

THWACK!!!

A rock, massive, heavy, probably could kill a mammoth, lands near your foot. You blink. A club follows, barely missing your toe.

You look up.

Gojo.

Tall. Built. Filthy. Covered in mud, scratches, and an ego the size of a glacier. He grins, sharp teeth flashing, pointing at you. Then at himself. Then—slowly, dramatically—drags his fingers down his chest, smearing dirt as he flexes his pecs in the most unhinged display of caveman peacocking.

Translation: See muscles? Strongest. Best mate. Come cave.

You blink. Slowly shake your head.

Gojo pouts. He actually pouts.

Then—

SNAP!!!

A stick breaks.

Golden hair slicked back. Precise hunting scars like he personally invented caveman Botox. He sighs ( caveman sighs, deep, judgmental ), picks up a rock and chucks it at Gojo’s head.

Gojo barely dodges, screeching.

Nanami doesn’t even grunt. Just turns to you, lifts the biggest kill you’ve ever seen— some prehistoric beast that probably had a name —slung over his shoulder, and points to his cave, all very matter-of-factly.

Translation: I provide. You come.

Gojo throws another rock. It misses. But unfortunately—

BONK!!!

It hits a third caveman.

A low, dangerous growl.

Geto.

Emerging from the literal shadows, draped in feathers, hair long, eyes dark like he’s seen prehistoric horrors and survived. He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t grunt. He stares. Tilts his head. Lifts a finger—crooks it.

Translation: Come. I put pretty thing in Cave.

Gojo screeches. Nanami physically exhales rage.

You take a step back.

Bad.

Very bad.

THUD!!!

Something—someone—drops from the trees above.

Toji.

Bigger. Meaner. Shirt? Doesn’t exist yet . Scars on scars. Wearing the fur of something that had fangs and regrets. He cracks his neck, flexes, and lets out a deep, primal, guttural noise.

Translation: Mine.

He already claims you.

The tension is lethal. One grunt away from Caveman Hunger Games.

Then, the worst thing happens.

A chuckle reverberates. Low. Menacing .

From the mountains.

Sukuna.

He doesn’t walk. He stalks . Covered in war paint, a necklace of teeth—probably human—and more muscle than necessary for survival. He doesn’t even look at the others.

Just at you.

Then he smirks.

He doesn’t argue. Doesn’t peacock.

He just cracks his knuckles.

Disarray!!!

Gojo lunges for you—Nanami intercepts, yeets him into a tree like he’s taking out the trash. Geto sweeps in, silent, precise, fingers inches from you—but Toji body-slams him into the dirt so hard the Earth quakes.

Sukuna? Laughing his ass off. Arms crossed, enjoying the primal disaster unfolding before him like it's his personal gladiator match.

You? You run.

Because no matter what happens tonight, one undeniable truth remains:

You are getting bonked and dragged into a cave.

And frankly, you haven’t decided whose cave you actually prefer.

Gojo, incapable of losing with dignity, screeches like a rabid pterodactyl and launches himself at you again, arms wide—fully committed to scooping you up like an overgrown saber-toothed tiger carrying off its prey.

But—

BLOCKED!!!

Nanami moved with the speed and efficiency of a man who did NOT wake up for this bullshit today. One massive arm swings—and Gojo goes flying Into another tree.

Gojo blinks. Sulks. Pouts. Contemplates his life choices.

Nanami does not have time for this. Adjusts the massive chunk of fresh kill slung over his shoulder—a clear and undeniable sign of superior mate potential—then looks at you.

Steps forward. Expression serious.

Message clear: Come. Cave. Now.

You consider it.

Then—

Geto.

Unlike the others, he does not fight for dominance. He does not lunge. He simply stands there.

Watching. Waiting. Silent as death.

His violet eyes flick between Nanami and Gojo before settling on you. He does not gesture. He does not speak.

Translation: You will come to me.

Unfortunately for him—Toji doesn’t do patience.

BOOM!!!

Toji body-slams Geto into the dirt. The impact is hard enough to shake the ground.

Geto grunts, visibly irritated, but Toji is already moving. He snarls at Nanami and swats a distracted Gojo aside like an irritating cave-fly, and then grabs your wrist.

Bad.

You react immediately, twisting away, but Toji’s grip is like iron. His eyes gleam with primal amusement.

He likes this. Likes that you fight. Likes that you are difficult.

Thinks he claimed the right one.

You will birth strong cubs.

Then the world grows impossibly quiet.

A deep, amused chuckle from the mountain path.

Sukuna is still not looking at the others.

Just at you.

He smirks and cracks his knuckles.

Danger. Immediate. Imminent. Inevitable.

Gojo, pulling himself up from the dirt, grunts.

Nanami exhales through his nose. Already done. Over it.

Geto, dusting himself off, glares.

Toji grins.

Gojo lunges. Arms wide, absolutely determined to be the one who drags you home like a victorious cryptid.

BLOCKED!!! AGAIN!!!

Nanami intercepts and swings his hunting club with the force of a father disappointed in all of humanity.

Gojo ducks, cackling—only for Geto to casually trip him with a well-placed foot.

Toji, sensing an opening, grabs you.

Bad move.

You bite him.

HARD .

He yelps. Actually yelps . Stares at you, deeply offended.

Sukuna, bored of watching, finally moves.

The air shifts. The others freeze. Then he snarls—a guttural, earth-rumbling sound that promises death.

They all turn on him at once.

You take the opportunity to run again. Sprinting through the thick foliage, heart pounding like a war drum.

Behind you pure, unfiltered male ego gone feral.

Gojo swings from tree to tree like a prehistoric monkey, whooping and laughing. “OOGH! OOGHAAA!” This is the best day of his life.

Nanami moves with hunter efficiency, gaze locked on you like you’re the most troublesome prey he’s ever pursued.

Geto is nowhere to be seen, which is worse because he is waiting, plotting. Probably already set a trap.

Toji’s laughing. He thinks this is a game.

And Sukuna is gaining.

You hop over a fallen tree trunk. Panting. Twisting. Dodging.

A hand grabs your ankle.

You kick it.

Hard .

Gojo yelps. “OOGH?!”

Suddenly—Geto’s arms snake around your waist. Secure. Steady. You barely have time to react before—

Toji, out of nowhere tackles him. Like a rival apex predator.

You fall —

Right into Nanami’s arms.

He sighs. Shakes his head like you’ve personally disappointed him on a spiritual level. Then, without a word, swings you over his shoulder.

“ Hmph .”

Gojo screeches. Sukuna grins. Toji growls.

The fight is not even close to be over.

Because the only thing stronger than a Neanderthal is his ego.

You are smart. You bite Nanami’s ass.

He gets startled and drops you.

You are fast. You immediately run.

You are not going down without a fight.

But the problem?

Nanami is faster.

You weave through trees. Vault over logs. Chuck random rocks behind you in a desperate attempt to slow the brute down. You dive into a bush, hoping to vanish like an endangered species.

Then—a strong hand grabs your ankle.

“OOGH.”

Translation: Bad Woman!

You shriek, kick, bite—anything to get away.

Then just swings you back over his shoulder like you’re a misbehaving sack of mammoth meat.

Not again.

“BOOGA.”

Translation: Come Cave, Baddie.

You screech. Twist like an eel. Sink your teeth into his shoulder.

Nanami does not flinch. He has suffered worse.

You grab his hair, yank —

He grunts. Approvingly .

Before you could grimace, Gojo, having recovered from his previous embarrassment, swings in from a tree like some kind of prehistoric tarzan.

Again.

“OOGA BOOGAAAH!”

Nanami side-steps.

Gojo slams face-first into a boulder.

(Instant death? Maybe. No time to check.)

Geto appears from the shadows, attempting a silent takedown.

Nanami, without looking, swings his club backward.

CRACK!!!

Geto crumples like a defeated cave possum.

Toji, the bigger problem , lunges in, all muscle and violence.

You cheer. “OHUAOFF!!”

Translation: Yes! Kill each other!

Nanami, unfazed, puts you down and ducks Toji’s first punch, sidesteps the second, then grabs his wrist and yeets him into the river.

Toji does not resurface. Natural selection.

Then, just as you think you're free—a new challenger approaches.

Sukuna’s eyes lock onto you. Hungry. Territorial.

Sukuna snarls, lunges—

Nanami does not argue; he simply knees him in the stomach mid-air.

Sukuna chokes on his own grunt, stunned—but he does not give up.

They brawl. Fists flying. Bodies colliding. Dirt flying as prehistoric dominance reaches its final showdown.

You, watching from the sidelines, are in awe.

Then—

Nanami grabs a massive rock and smashes it over Sukuna’s head.

Silence .

Sukuna drops. Unmoving.

Rocked out of existence by Nanami’s sheer caveman dominance.

One victor.

One mate.

You blink. Nanami dusts off his hands.

You take this moment to run.

Nanami sighs, like he expected this. He lets you go for a solid five seconds before simply jogging up behind you and grabbing you again. He holds you by the waist—grip unyielding, muscles flexing like they’ve been carved from stone.

“AUGHH.”

You start screaming. Flailing. Kicking, biting, pulling out all the stops. You summon every ounce of Homo sapien intellect you have left to escape this prehistoric grip.

You poke him in the eye.

Nanami grunts. Blinks once and gives you a single disappointed look.

Then, without hesitation—the club comes down.

BONK!!!

Slamming against your head like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Darkness.

You, unfortunately, have lost. To the superior Neanderthal.

You wake up in Nanami’s cave. Wrapped in Nanami’s furs. With Nanami’s large, muscled arm trapping you in place.

You blink at the fire crackling nearby.

Nanami, victorious, is already roasting meat over the fire like he didn’t just commit mass homicide for your affection.

He looks down at you.

And smirks .

“Booga.”

You groan. You have lost.

But what’s worse than losing?

The fact that Nanami smells really good.

Like, really good. Like moss and firewood and a hint of leather that somehow makes your brain forget all the reasons you hate being in his cave in the first place.

And as Nanami effortlessly flips the meat over the fire, his muscles glistening in the warm glow, you become acutely aware of just how broad he is—and suddenly, you realize:

It’s throbbing for him.

A/N: And there we have it! You survived the cavemen chaos! 🦖💥 This came to me while I was showering for some reason. I hope you enjoyed watching these ridiculously over-the-top Neanderthals fight for your attention. If you made it this far, you're either a true JJK brainrot survivor or just really into prehistoric aggression & questionable decisions (same). 😏 Don’t forget to leave a comment if you’re still laughing at Gojo’s tree-swinging antics or if you, too, are secretly falling for Nanami's primal charm. Also, who would you pick—cave buddy-wise? I’m personally Team Nanami, but we can all dream about the chaos of having them all, right? Reverse modern day patriarchal society by Reverse Herem, anyone?? Catch you in the next wild ride—maybe with fewer rocks to the head... or not. 🤷‍♀️ Stay strong, stay ridiculous, & remember: you’re the real apex predator here. 😈🖤

Next Chapter because ya'll loved it so much - Ooga Booga Gojo tries to Court you (Tumblr/Ao3)

All Works Masterlist

[dirty-jammies]

Late Night Desires 🌙❤️

Astarion x Fem!Chubby!Reader x Halsin

(Reader is AFAB and is referred to with she/her pronouns and terms like "good girl". )

AN: Pure self-indulgent smut because I have Feelings about Halsin's fingers. You ONOW these two would just adore spoiling a cute plus-size princess~ Enjoy!! (Psst! There's a surprise at the end!!)

-~-

Your other party members have long-since fallen asleep, but in a secluded part of the surrounding woods, atop soft grass, you were giving your lover a midnight snack…

You hummed as Astarion’s lips pressed a gentle kiss to the column of your throat, the elf’s tongue darting out to catch the last few dribbles of your blood from the dainty puncture wounds on your neck. You sighed, the usual lightheadedness settling in and your lover pulled you to rest against his chest.

“Decadent as always, darling,” Astarion murmured softly, his arms cradling you close, “you're far too good to me.”

You hummed blissfully and let out a breathless laugh as those dexterous hands of his moved up the soft curves of your body, fondling your plush waist all the way up to your bosom, “Need anything else, my love?” You teased.

Astarion laughed in reply, “How did you guess?” Those hands set about undoing your shirt, flying flawlessly over the buttons and clasps, you watched him work with a smile. Lockpicking or lovemaking, Astarion was certainly masterful with his hands.

Your pale paramour must have noticed your gaze, as he smirked down at you as your shirt fell open.

“You want my fingers tonight, my lovely,” it was less of a question and more of him stating the obvious. Either way, you bit your lip and nodded, legs spreading almost subconsciously; your bloodlessness had rendered you docile and dumb - just the way Astarion liked it. Astarion grinned, bloodied fangs glinting in the moonlight that bathed the small grassy clearing you were in, “Such a good girl for me, already spreading your juicy thighs… lift your hips for me.” he commanded and you obeyed, him watching lecherously as he rolled your leggings down over the plump swell of your thighs.

Now fully bare to both the elements and your lover’s hungry gaze, you swallowed, excitement swirling in your heart and your loins. With your legs spread as they were, your arousal was on full display.

Astarion did away with his shirt as well, leaving his pale skin almost glowing in the moonlight. You saw his nostrils flare and his pupils dilated, “Oh, darling, do you know you smell absolutely divine when you’re like this, wet and desperate for me?” He spoke lowly, roughly, “I normally find your scent delectable, but like this?” He leaned down and kissed you, nearly growling against your lips, “I just want to devour you.”

You gasped as his fingers finally made contact with your core, easily sliding through your slick folds. You moaned and whimpered as Astarion played around your opening, circling your clit for a brief, bright moment before going back down to smear your slick around more. You opened your mouth, wanting to beg him to put those maddening fingers in you already, when a noise alerted you. You nearly missed it, quiet as it was, but both you and Astarion were perceptive enough to pick it up: a groan. Instantly, your heads turned to face the tree line, expecting an undead or a bandit.

What you didn't expect to see was a shirtless, seven-foot tall druid with his cock in one hand, the other clasped over his mouth, mortified.

You reflexively went to reach for your clothing to cover up, but you were stopped as Astarion finally plunged two fingers knuckle-deep into your pussy. You keened loudly and your head tipped back, feeling embarrassment war with your arousal at the needy sound you let out. You heard Halsin give another groan, muffled by his hand but still apparent, and you watched Astarion’s mouth widen into a grin. You moaned as he fluttered his fingers inside you, pressing upwards into the soft, spongy spot that made you whimper his name.

“Now, now, darling,” Astarion scolded you playfully and leaned back, putting your body on display for Halsin, “don't hold your voice back. Let our guest hear your pretty little screams.” he kept massaging that spot inside you and you gasped, writhing in the grass below your lover. You craned your neck over to look at Halsin, and you felt a jolt of arousal burn through your body at the sight of the normally calm druid bracing himself against a tree, mouth open and letting out ragged pants as he fisted his cock. His hazel eyes were darkened with lust and were focussed intently on where Astarion’s fingers were buried in your wet heat before they flicked up to lock with yours. Your lover kept up his pace, swirling his fingers inside you and prodding your sweet spot. He clicked his tongue, “This is fun enough, darling, but… what would you say to letting Halsin have a go at you?”

You couldn't answer, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to ecstasy. Astarion huffed and yanked his fingers out of you, making you whine.

“Please! Please…” you begged mindlessly.

Astarion lightly pinched your clit, “‘Please let Halsin come over here and fuck me with his massive fingers’?” He supplied for your sweet, speechless self, “I thought you'd never ask, darling.” You could barely hold back an excited smile.

Astarion curled one of his fingers towards Halsin, who put himself away (causing his leggings to strain over his bulge) and sheepishly approached the two of you.

“Forgive me for intruding,” Halsin spoke lowly, “I heard noise out here and wanted to make sure everything was alright.”

Astarion hummed and ran his hands over your spread thighs and soft stomach lovingly, “And once you deduced the source of the noise, you figured you would enjoy a free show?”

“It has… been a while,” Halsin admitted, kneeling next to Astarion and raking his eyes over your supple body, “May I touch you?”

You nodded and reached out to him, taking one of his large hands in your own, “Yes, I can’t lie, I’ve been wanting this for a while,” You guided Halsin’s hand to your chest, letting him feel your racing heart. You looked back at Astarion, who was watching Halsin’s hand slide down your chest with a filthy smile, “Both of you, touching me.”

Astarion laughed lightly and trailed his nails, sharp and ticklish, over your soft thighs, “Such a naughty girl we have, don't we, Halsin?”

“Quite,” Halsin rumbled, his large hands finding your breasts and he smiled at your moan, “What a wonderful body, so soft and sweet…”

“Isn’t she just?” Astarion cooed and helped maneuver you into a new position, leaning you back against his chest. His lithe arms wrapped around your body, “Her breasts, her stomach, these delicious thighs and her arse…” he listed, humming as he pressed a warm kiss to the nape of your neck. You could feel the hardness in his tight pants pressing against your cushiony rear, “they’re all exquisite. She makes me simply ravenous.”

At the praise and the two sets of hands exploring your body, you felt your arousal start to grow again. Halsin’s hands were huge, caressing your breasts gently and thumbing your nipples like a string instrument; you could tell he was holding back.

“You don’t have to be too gentle, Halsin,” you spoke, voice trembling as Astarion’s hands sank into your plush waist, holding you steady as he ground his covered cock against your ass, “You can touch anything you want, h-however you want.” Your breath was getting heavier, anticipation making you wet. Halsin seemed to sense it, his nostrils flaring as he took in your heavenly scent.

“So generous,” Astarion purred from behind you before nipping a fresh mark into your neck, a quick spot of cold amidst the warmth of their caresses, “Go ahead, Halsin, I want to see you ruin her.” The vampire’s voice was low and heated and you shivered in anticipation as Halsin's hands left your breasts to travel down your supple form.

“Your body is magnificent,” Halsin rumbled lowly, as if to himself as his hands felt up the soft swell of your belly, “like a Goddess of bounty and fertility…” he locked eyes with yours and you let out a soft moan at the sheer intensity behind his gaze.

Astarion purred and licked up the new blood he drew, “You want to breed her? I don't blame you, her body is practically begging for it,” his soft hands reached down and you felt heat rush to your face as he spread you open, parting the soft folds of slickened skin to show off your hard little clit and needy pussy to Halsin, “Open her up, she’s dripping for you.”

Halsin groaned at the sight of you and he bowed his head, almost in reverence. You could see a smile bloom on his face as his fingers played around your impossibly soft, pillow-like mound, fluffy with hair. It was ticklish and infuriating, it wasn’t enough.

“Please, Halsin,” you whimpered, squirming in Astarion’s hold before he bit you for your disobedience, “Ah! Halsin, your fingers…” you bit your lip and stilled yourself, hoping he would fill you up where you needed most.

“Start with two,” Astarion commanded and you could hear his smile, “she can handle it.”

Halsin nodded and you gasped in surprise as he leaned in to kiss you, full, slightly-chapped lips caressing your own tenderly. Your gasp turned into a loud moan as two of Halsin’s thick fingers slid into you. Astarion opened you up with two of his earlier, but Halsin’s were far thicker, they stretched your walls, eased by your natural lubrication, and you clenched around them needily. You whined into Halsin’s mouth as he gently started fucking his fingers in and out, slow and steady, making your hips grind down onto his hand. Halsin groaned and sucked on your tongue, spreading his fingers inside of you and making you moan.

“Silvanus preserve me, you’re hotter than a brushfire,” the druid panted, “and so tight and wet…”

“Isn’t she positively intoxicating?” Astarion shifted you so you were straddling Halsin’s lap. You instinctively wrapped your arms around Halsin and nuzzled into his neck. You heard the quick snaps of buttons being undone and you could tell Astarion was touching himself, watching his lover be pleased by another. The vampire groaned, “Give her another.”

Your eyes widened slightly, about to object as you were still getting used to two of those thick digits inside you, but all thoughts of stopping immediately left your mind as Halsin’s ring finger pushed into you and pressed firmly against your sweet spot.

“Oh, Gods!” You cried, voice high. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you were stretched further than you have been before. You could feel your pussy pulse around Halsin’s fingers and drool even more slick around them. It burned, but it was so good, “They’re so big…” you panted and put a hand on Halsin’s broad, hair-dusted chest.

“Is it too much?” Halsin asked, rubbing your back with his free hand soothingly. His fingers were still.

You shook your head, “No, it's good,” you looked up to him, all hazy eyes and warm cheeks, “Please, go on?”

Halsin smiled and took a deep, steadying breath, “As you wish.” He slowly withdrew his fingers until only the tips remained, and you whined at the loss before they slid back into you, making you moan again.

Slowly, he continued this steady rhythm, getting you ready, getting you wetter. You relaxed in his hold, taking in his scents of musk and cedarwood.

“Does that feel good, darling?” You heard Astarion purr from the side, “Oh, he’s treating you so well~”

At the praise, you felt the Druid's breathing hitch, and, gone as you were due to blood loss and lust, you picked up on Halsin’s apparent praise kink pretty quickly, “Yes~ Halsin, you feel so, so good!”

“You two will be the end of me,” Halsin chuckled and pushed you back to lay on the grass. His fingers curled upwards and pressed into your soft spot, making you cry out, “There we go, now we can both see you.” Halsin pressed one hand on your belly, appreciating the softness as he once again started moving his fingers.

This time there was no restraint, Halsin plunged his three thick digits in and out of you fast and deep, and you couldn't contain your noises. Sweet moans and whines as Halsin fucked you, stretching your cushy walls and using his palm to rub your clit on every inward thrust. Your head thrashed around, feeling yourself getting closer and closer to your peak. In and out, in and out, in and out…

“Fuck yes,” you heard Astarion moan, “Fucking give it to her, make her cum!”

Halsin was panting at this point, his other hand mindlessly groping every soft swell in your body; your jiggling tummy, your bouncing tits, your pillowy mound, everywhere. His arm was like a piston, filling you up and hammering you until, finally-

You screamed, back arching, body shuddering, clenching and squirting around Halsin’s fingers. Your hands fisted in the grass under you, toes curling. Your mind went blank as pleasure overtook you, feeling nothing but Halsin’s warm arms holding you steady.

“Shit!” You heard Astarion grunt, and you knew he had come as well. You could see him out of your peripheral vision wipe his hand clean on the grass next to him.

“There you go,” Halsin groaned, thrusts slowing the tiniest amount, fucking you through your orgasm, “there you go, good girl…” he took your face in his other hand, caressing your cheek gently, “Beautiful girl…” he pulled his fingers from you with a wet squelch, and you and Astarion moaned as he licked up your flavours from his hand.

You could do nothing but catch your breath with a smile, feeling lighter than air as you bathed in your afterglow. You looked up at Halsin, then over his shoulder as Astarion sidled up beside you two.

“Did you enjoy that, darling?” Astarion purred and wrapped his arms around Halsin’s broad chest.

“Yes.” Both you and Halsin sighed at the same time, making Astarion laugh, light and playful.

“Good to hear,” the vampire hummed and dragged his lecherous gaze up and down your plush, pliant body, “mmh… Halsin certainly did a number on you, didn't he, love? But we shouldn't make our guest go without,” he pouted, “that would be terribly rude.”

You sat up, letting out a little moan as you put pressure on your oversensitive, well-fucked pussy, “You’re right. Halsin,” you looked up at the druid, all doe eyes and soft cheeks, “what else can we do for you?”

Halsin let out a gruff laugh, “You’ve already been so generous, but,” he rubbed a large hand on your thigh fondly and turned to look at Astarion with simmering heat in his eyes, “I would enjoy just about anything you two have in mind.”

You and Astarion shared a dirty look. You had something in mind, alright...

AN 2: Polls??? In MY smut!? Lol I was a little stumped on just how to get Halsin off, so I figured why not get some reader interaction going and let y'all vote? Don't worry if I don't do your fav pick, I'm planning on writing loads more of these guys -w-

I hope you enjoyed! And don't forget that your comments mean a lot to me! 😚💕

[bigassmoth]

Sebastian Michaelis x fem!Reader nsfw drabble

He loved attention, he never wasted an opportunity to show off and garner the respect and awe he deserves. But no crowd would ever compare to the delight he got from your appraisal.

So its no surprise that sex with the demon would last for hours, often with him teasing you the entire day. He wanted you to always be thinking about him, he wanted you to walk and be reminded of the wet between your thighs and anticipate the next time he pets you so sweetly. After a day of Sebastian sliding a hand under your underwear to give your clit a few tight rubs within empty corridors, you finally had each other for the evening. You were exhausted and sensitive, occassionally jolting in his lap as he lazily thrust into you. Ever mindful, Sebastian nibbled at a spot below your collarbone so it was easy to cover. He then cleaned up the sweat that trickled between your breast- then pinched each nipple and lifted the breast up to lick underneith. You groaned and the huffed- abusing your clit throughout the day wasnt enough, he had to make sure your nipples would be sore while rubbing against your clothes tomorrow. Reminders of him and what he does to you when the sun sets.

Wiggling with discomfort, you eventually push him down on the bed and lay on top, angling your hips so that his length is no longer fully inside you. Less than half rests in your walls, and the cool air on Sebastians shaft is far inferior to your velvet grip. Before he can readjust you- and begin fucking you at a brutal pace- your hands clasp his cheeks.

In your hands, he freezes and meets your eyes. He feels seen, its intimate. You feel vulnerable, Sebastians lust and voracity on full display as he looks at you with a manic reverance. Often times during sex or heavy petting sessions in closets, he whispered possessive orders. "Look at me. Dont close your eyes. Dont think about them. Watch me."

But you are used to his infernal gaze, and lean forward to press a gentle kiss to his also sweaty forehead. You tuck the hair stuck to his skin behind his ears, and lightly massage his temples. Sebastian melts under you, eyes closing as he soaks up your affections. The sudden tenderness you would display during sex always caught him off guard. It was so direct, so intentional, he was absolutely addicted.

He deepens the kiss, and coos in delight when you open your mouth for his exploration. Your sweet little tongue slides against his fangs and you shiver in delight.

Unknowingly, your hips have begun to rock, taking in his cock in shallow humps. Sebastian lets out a breathy laugh and presses your hips further down so you have to take in more of him.

"You must be in high spirits if you have the breath to kiss me. In that case, use that energy. Ride me until you finish." He sits you upright and you whine as his hands return to teasing your breasts.

[carionto]

Humans really like space wildlife

As Humanity integrates itself within the Galactic Coalition ever further, trade and travel between Sol and neighboring member systems is growing at exponential rates. In particular, their interest in the native wildlife of other planets is the most widely expanding sector for tourism and commerce.

Even though it is also the most heavily regulated and restricted one, Humans, who typically display a desire to subvert the normal procedures to expedite any process they can, for this they are surprisingly willing and eager to fill in all the necessary paperwork and spend hours upon days making sure they follow and adhere to all the requirements to import some of these creatures.

While such level of determination is not uncommon for new member species who discover a certain non-native creature or something that to the respective natives is commonplace but for them is the pinnacle of exotic, the variety of requests made by Humans is nearly as great as the entire list of known fauna species. And the reasons listed on the forms are even more diverse:

"That's a unicorn! I've always dreamed of having a unicorn and you're telling me there's a dozen subspecies?! Yes, please!!!"

"After reviewing their behavior, this bear-sized fluff-ball is the perfect cat I've always wanted, but couldn't because of allergies. I'll treat them with love and care, my life is incomplete without this fella."

"Tiny. Elephant-duck. Want."

"Our company was looking for a mascot, and these six-legged spindly beaver-crabs are perfect. Here's our mission statement and prepared accommodations for a flock."

"They all said I hallucinated the lizard sasquatch when I was on that acid trip, but now I'll show 'em. It's real. I knew it all along!"

"Aww, these baby puppies are so adorable (referring to the four meter, 800kg Fanged Widowmaker of Abyss Valley predator). My kids were looking through your alien picture books and instantly fell in love with these ones."

And so on. At first we had to reject quite a few, mainly because half of them were deadly beasts from Deathworlds that are almost impossible to capture in the first place. Then the Human officials informed us that, while they will try to stop it from happening, if we don't make importing and adopting even the most dangerous animals in the known Galaxy reasonably possible for them with Human help and expertise in the field, some Humans will set up illegal smuggling rings to "fill the market gap" as they said. Historically, they explained, that causes more problems and expenses than just handling it through official channels.

Reluctantly we were persuaded and have set up a new organization to quell this, apparently, unquenchable Human pack bonding condition. Even if said pet can kill them. We think, as horrible as it may be, that for some that is part of the appeal. Even the ones that breathe out literal poison.

"We'll wear a mask around them. This wendigo-like one is too cute to not get belly rubs."

Said the OFFICIAL Human Representative of a monstrosity that can only be described as the living incarnation of countless teeth, fangs, claws, vivid seizure inducing iridescent feathers, and a body that extends from a inconspicuous ambush pose to a fully 8 meter tall six limbed nightmare machine of Death!

[faerievampling]

Tender

Summary: After the tadpole is gone, Spawn!Astarion's newfound vampiric strength must be tempered when making love to Tav.

Ao3 Link Here!

pairing: Astarion x Female Tav

word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+. Cunnilingus. PiV. Vaginal Fingering. Blood drinking. Spoilers for end game content.

Astarion brushes his lips against yours; his touch is so tender, as if he fears he may break you. You sigh into him as his strong hand trails up your neck to cup your jaw. He cradles you to him as he deepens the kiss, swirling his practiced tongue around yours.

When Astarion’s full vampiric strength came back to him after the defeat of the Netherbrain, he had hurt you - by accident, of course. 

His lovemaking had left bruises on your delicate skin. Astarion was torn up over this, that he had hurt his lover, the one person he truly cares for. But Astarion had been used to using you as he pleased. You never told him what to do, and he was in control of the bedroom.

He hadn’t realized his own strength. He was always starved and weak before the tadpole; but now, he is a very well fed vampire, and he found that he was inhumanly strong nowadays.

But now, Astarion realizes just how fragile you are, and how careful he must be.

Astarion places a hand on your waist as he delicately leads you to lie on your bed. When you meet Astarion’s gaze as he climbs on top of you, his eyes are rounded, his soul open and inviting as he bears his heart to you.

Every time the two of you made love since you defeated Cazador, it was like this. Astarion would often get emotional in one way or another, but you worked through it together. You were to follow his lead, let him explore, and intervene only when absolutely necessary. Astarion trusted you to know when the ‘absolutely necessary’ clause of this agreement should be applied. 

Letting Astarion explore sometimes lead him to be rough with you: not that you minded, of course, quite the contrary. But with the tadpole gone, things had changed. 

The two of you take each other in for a moment: his curls, which tendril down wildly as he hovers above you, frame his cute pointy ears. His full lips are parted, showing you the tip of his fangs as he often does when he’s feeling lustful. 

Astarion puts his hand on your neck before he moves up to thumb the plump of your lower lip. He then gives you a little smile before using a knee to spread your legs, fully putting your wet cunt on display. 

A low growl escapes Astarion’s throat at the sight of you. Your pale lover hooks one of your legs on his shoulder as he lies beside you, his eyes glued to your sex. 

“So pretty…” Astarion murmurs as he swipes a finger from your entrance to your clit, causing you to tremble with need.

Your cunt is already so wet, your folds swollen and muscles relaxed, ready and desperate for Astarion’s touch. He gently slides a finger into your entrance with little resistance. You clench around him as you search for his lips, which find yours instinctively. 

Astarion slides his finger out of you slowly. Your beloved was still mastering your body, but he always seemed to know when you were ready for more. As he slides a second finger into your entrance, he breaks your kisses, watching you as you take more of him. He pushes his long fingers into you until he is knuckles deep, which evolves your little whimpers into breathless moans.

Astarion watches as he unravels you with the curl of his fingers deep inside your cunt. Your eyes roll at the intense sensation, and you’re already seeing stars.

“Such a good girl, my sweet darling.” His deep, silky voice gives away how much he was enjoying this. He loved the smell of your desire, your reactions to his touch, and your full trust in him. 

As Astarion is hitting that sweet spot deep within you, his thumb begins to circle your clit, causing your eyes to go wide as carnal pleasure possesses you. 

Suddenly, Astarion pulls out his fingers from you slowly, watching your needy expression with a smirk. He lowers himself before he takes your swollen clit into his mouth, wrapping his lips around your sex and gently sucking.

A moan escapes your lips, which Astarion thinks is rather cute, and he smiles against your sex before returning to tasting your folds. 

Astarion loves the way you taste, and can’t help but ease his tongue into your entrance. His fingers move to your labia, spreading your lips so that he may devour his lover properly.  

Once Astarion is done teasing you and building you up, his tongue moves to your clit, making soft circular motions that make you writhe beneath him. 

You try to tell Astarion you’re about to come, but you’re breathless, and all you can do is tangle your fingers in his lovely curls and brace yourself for your impending orgasm.

Luckily, your body is able to speak for you, and your lover is very attentive. 

Astarion brings a hand up to squeeze your nipple as you come on his tongue, and your scent nearly drives him mad. He desperately wants to take you, to fuck you, to sup of your blood just as he had your delicious cunt.

His lips stay on your core until you squirm away from him from overstimulation. He grabs you by the hips and pulls you back to him before placing a kiss on the inside of your thigh. 

“May I?” Astarion asks through his lashes. You nod, and you see the excitement flicker across his face. 

Astarion kisses you once more before he slides his fangs into you, slowly drinking you in. He savors it, because he needn’t take too much; he didn’t like you feeling bloodless, and anything more than a few sips was a treat enough for him.

He moans against your skin after releasing you, lapping up the spilled blood as he undoes his trousers, freeing his cock from its constraints. 

Astarion is already primed and ready to take you. He feels so connected to you after drinking in your essence, and he wants more. Sitting up on his knees between your legs, his hands harshly grip your splayed thighs as he pulls you to him, ready to fuck your brains out until you’re a drooling, sobbing mess.

But he remembers himself; remembers the bruises he left on you. In these moments, he deeply misses the tadpole, and how alive it made him. Now, he has to be vigilant. But it is worth it for you. To love you properly, the way you deserve, whichever way Astarion can show you how. 

The one thing he knows he can do is protect you, even if it is from a part of himself. 

As Astarion lines his cock up with your entrance, he leans over and presses a tender, almost chaste, kiss on your lips. He meets your gaze as he pushes himself into you, a moan escaping your lips as he fills you.

Astarion hooks both of your legs on his shoulders as he strokes you. His motions are slow, consistent, and he is so incredibly deep, the tip of his cock kisses your cervix. 

He is cradling you, holding you so close and fucking you slowly: it had never been like this for him before, but he loves it. He loves you. 

Astarion doesn’t last long like this - you feel so perfect in his arms, and your cunt so warm, so tight, it feels like heaven once he finally comes deep inside of you.

Astarion rolls off of you before pulling you into his chest, not wanting to end your skin to skin contact so soon. He could get use to this, Astarion thinks.

Masterlist

[vampsywrites]

Can you do one where Ao'nung is an asshole with everyone but his wife/courted. Like he'll forget to use manners, one gentle but reprimanding tug of his ear and he adds a, "please" to the end of his sentence.

I can see Ronal finding this very amusing.

my soul, you really took my soul

synopsis: moments where fishlips is soft for you <3

tags: established relationship, kissing n making out, lo'ak trying to impress fishlips, i believe in whipped! ao'nung supremacy

author's note: sorry for the late response! my laptop exploded <3

Your laughter filled the air as Ao'nung planted warm kisses across your face, his large hands cupping your face delicately.

"Hmm, Ao'nung," you purred, a soft grin adorning your lips as you inclined your head, reveling in the tender affection.

The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this precious moment. But even amidst the sweetness, a gentle reminder of reality pulled you back.

"There are people around," you managed to say between your laughter, fully aware of the curious eyes that might be watching your affectionate display with the chief's son.

"Yeah?" Ao'nung's mischievous smirk only grew broader, his eyes dancing with a playful glimmer as he cast aside any concerns. He pulled you in even closer, his hands resting upon your hips as he drew you into a deep kiss.

"Let them watch then," he grinned, his fangs lightly grazing against your bottom lip as he spoke.

Just as the two of you were fully immersed in this intimate moment, it was abruptly interrupted by a shout.

"Fishlips!" Lo'ak called out, brandishing a fishing net, his tone dripping with self-satisfaction.

Ao'nung cursed under his breath, distancing himself from your embrace as he directed a scowl towards Lo'ak.

"What?" he snapped, his voice tinged with impatience, yearning to be away from the unwelcome disruption.

Undeterred, Lo'ak displayed his spoil. "Look what I caught," he smirked, raising the net filled with a writhing dinicthoid for all to see.

Even from a distance, the creature's appearance was apparent, with its gargoyle-like features, beady red eyes, and razor-sharp teeth. Despite its dangerous allure, the dinicthoid held great significance to the Na'vi, and capturing one during the hunt was a testament to a warrior's bravery.

"Got it on the first try," the Omatikayan boasted, dropping the squirming fish at Ao'nung's feet with a resounding thud.

Ao'nung regarded the catch with narrowed eyes, a trace of admiration flickering beneath his facade. "Must have been a lucky shot," he grumbled, trying to downplay his surprise in front of Lo'ak.

Tutting softly, you reached out and lightly swatted the side of his head, a gesture that only you could get away with. Ao'nung felt a mixture of embarrassment and affection as he gazed at you with mild bewilderment.

"Come on," you said, your tone light. "Give him some credit. Lo'ak provided for the clan, and we should appreciate that."

Ao'nung sighed, ears flickering back. By your command, he turned back to Lo'ak and offered a begrudging nod. "Well done, forest boy," he mumbled, attempting to conceal the annoyance that gnawed at him.

Satisfied with the acknowledgment, Lo'ak swaggered away, his pride evident in every step.

"Finally," Ao'nung huffed, a mix of relief and exasperation in his voice. He turned to you, a slight smile forming at the edges of his lips, as if your presence could chase away all his frustrations. "Thought he would never leave."

"Well, now he has," you replied, a glimmer of mischief dancing in your eyes as your tail playfully trailed up his thigh. "Now, where were we?"

Ao'nung's gruff exterior melted away, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips as he leaned in to meet you halfway. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his embrace.

As the night settled in, the village gathered around a crackling fire, its warmth and light creating a cozy atmosphere. The scent of roasted fish wafted through the air, mingling with the sounds of laughter and the rhythmic beat of drums. The clan was in high spirits, celebrating the fresh snd successful hunt.

"Right here," he whispered, voice a gentle rumble as he connected his lips to yours.

You sat beside Ao'nung, eating with him from your shared plate. It was a routine you two had grown used to after so many years together. He had always appreciated your presence, finding comfort in the familiarity of your company amidst the bustling celebration. The way your laughter blended with the melodic chants and the soft murmur of conversations added to the sense of belonging and togetherness that filled the air.

"Yawne," Ao'nung called out, his attention momentarily drawn to his meal. "Pass me that sauce."

Instead of obliging immediately, you gave him a playful look, and with a mischievous glint in your eye, you reached up to pinch at his ear. Ao'nung jerked back, letting out a grunt of pain.

With a knowing expression, you met his gaze. Understanding your unspoken message, Ao'nung heaved a dramatic sigh of defeat.

"Ma'yawne," he called out again, adding a hint of contrition in his voice. "Please pass me that sauce," he grunted out, emphasizing the word you oh so wished to hear.

"That's better. It doesn't hurt to be polite," you grin, fingers brushing against his momentarily as you passed the bowl, sending an electrifying warmth coursing through him.

Your smile widened, and you reached for the wooden bowl with a nod of approval.

Ao'nung grumbled good-naturedly, but his heart swelled with warmth as he wrapped a strong arm around your middle, pulling you flush against him. The little tug-of-war between you had always been a part of your relationship, and it was something he treasured deeply even if he didn't say it out loud.

Across the table, both Ronal and Tonowari watched the scene before them in amusement. No matter how many times they saw it, your interactions and dynamics were always so entertaining to them.

Ao'nung notices their states and turns to them with a irked look, brow raised, "Is there something you need?"

"No," Ronal hums, lips curling into a half-smile at her son's annoyed glower, "We are just glad someone has finally managed to tame you."

[tfanatic]

Mason stopped by an oddity shop on his way home, drawn in by the flickering neon sign and the promise of strange curiosities. The store was cluttered with shelves of dusty books, taxidermy animals, and glass cases filled with tarnished jewelry and mysterious trinkets. As he wandered toward the back, something caught his eye.

On display was a necklace, unlike the rest—an amulet fashioned from a large, curved tiger tooth, its surface worn smooth with age. The leather cord looked brittle, but the tooth itself gleamed unnaturally in the dim light, as if it pulsed faintly with energy. A small tag next to it that reads,

"Tiger Tooth Amulet — Protection. Power. Price to be paid."

Mason couldn’t explain why, but he reached out and took it. It felt warm in his hand. Too warm.

He laughed to himself, the sound echoing faintly in the quiet store. "Protection and power, huh?" he muttered with a smirk, flipping the amulet in his fingers. It was probably just a hunk of bone some guy carved in his garage.

Still—something about it kept his curiosity burning. He made his way to the front counter, paid in crumpled bills, and stepped back out into the fading evening light.

Settling into the driver’s seat of his car, Mason hesitated for a moment. The amulet swung slightly in his hand. With a shrug, he slipped it over his head.

It rested heavy and warm against his chest.

The moment it touched his skin, the warmth deepened—like a low hum under his sternum. He blinked, looked around. Nothing unusual.

“Probably just in my head,” he muttered—and started the engine.

As Mason turned onto the main road, the afternoon sun poured through his windshield, casting sharp light across his forearm on the steering wheel.

That’s when he noticed it.

The sunlight caught something strange—his arm looked… different. He squinted. The fine hairs on his skin had thickened, deepened in color. Orange? He rubbed his arm with his free hand, expecting it to wipe away like dust or something from the shop. But it didn’t.

It was real. His skin was warm—hot even. And the hairs were unmistakably turning into a coarse orange fur.

“What the hell…” he muttered, eyes flicking from the road to his arm, to the mirror, then back. The amulet pulsed faintly against his chest like a second heartbeat.

His hand tightened on the steering wheel. Panic prickled at the back of his neck.

This wasn’t just in his head anymore. Something was happening.

And it was only beginning.

Mason pulled into his driveway, tires crunching over gravel. His hands trembled as he shifted into park, still staring at the patch of orange fur crawling higher up his arm. He fumbled the keys out of the ignition and slumped back in his seat, breathing hard.

Then came the ache.

It started dull, just behind his upper gums—but quickly sharpened into a pressure that made him wince. He rubbed his jaw, trying to soothe it, but the pain only grew worse. Like something inside was pushing its way out.

He leaned forward and flipped the rearview mirror toward his face.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

His canines had lengthened—noticeably. Too sharp. Too animal. They caught the light like tiny blades, glinting unnaturally. His lips curled back in instinctive revulsion.

“No, no, no…” he yelled.

Another jolt of pain surged through his mouth. His teeth shifted again—grinding, reshaping, becoming something not human.

Mason burst through his front door, slammed it shut behind him, and took the amulet off. He threw it off to the side, hitting the ground.

He collapsed to his knees, clutching his chest. He begins pulling on the fur in panic, tearing his shirt

His muscles ached and stretched, bones popping subtly beneath the surface of his skin. Thick orange-striped fur now covered most of his arms and shoulders. His hands had twisted, nails elongating into dangerous claws that dug into the carpet as he braced himself.

Then came the roar—his own voice, filled with raw animal power

His fangs now jutted fully from his mouth, jaw widened unnaturally. He clutched at his throat, eyes shut with fear and disbelief.

“I took it off,” he growled through his new teeth. “Why… isn't it stopping?”

The amulet lay still on the floor… but its curse had already taken root. And Mason was no longer just human.

His legs trembled, no longer shaped quite right—his ankles lifted unnaturally, muscles warping, bones shifting to accommodate a new gait. He could feel the tendons tightening, reshaping. His toes curled as they realigned, becoming more paw-like with each inch he crawled.

Then came the sensation that nearly made him scream—a tug at the base of his spine. Something was growing. Extending. He twisted, panting, just in time to see a thick, striped tail unfurling behind him, swaying with a life of its own.

But through the haze of transformation, one thought burned clearer than all others:

The amulet.

Without it, he felt exposed—vulnerable. As unnatural as the changes were, being without the amulet felt worse. As if something ancient had been stirred inside him, and only that relic could keep it from consuming him entirely.

His claws scraped the carpet as he dragged himself across the floor, eyes locked on the amulet where it lay. With trembling fingers—now more beast than man—he grasped it and pulled it back over his neck.

The moment it touched his chest, everything slowed. The pain dulled. His breath steadied. Not reversed—but contained.

He collapsed, breathing hard.

With the amulet back on, the chaos inside Mason eased. Power pulsed through him—steady, controlled.

The claws, the fur, the tail—they were still there. But now, they felt natural.

With the amulet on, he wasn’t afraid.

He felt safe. He felt strong.

[officialbruciewayne]

Observations on Kryptonians:

Their Biology, Behavior and its Dynamic with Beauty

An anecdotal entry by Bruce T. Wayne, regarding his experiences with the Kryptonian People.

Over the course of the last century, Earth and Humanity has become aware that not only are we not alone in our universe- but that we are not alone on our world. At an undisclosed moment in our history, our homeworld became a refuge for the last children of Krypton, a world that was lost to unknown disaster.

Kryptonians are mysterious and alien, a recipe for rejection and prejudice on this planet. Not only this, but they have exceptional powers, which lure our worst impulses of greed and exploitation. We have not always treated them with kindness.

Despite our own lack of humanity, the most notable Kryptonians of our society continue to share their unique gifts and perspectives, choosing to help wherever they can.

As a Jewish man, and a Father, the legacy of the Kryptonian people, both in entrusting our world with their children, but with it, their future in the face of diaspora, humbles me.

I would like to offer my voice of support to our kin from beyond the stars. I have some personal experience with Kryptonians, and will attempt to demystify their habits and nature, to present them to you not as strangers from the skies, but as part of the infinite diversity of our world.

Not to be feared, not be used, but to be welcomed.

ברוכים הבאים לבית שלנו

Caveat on Kryptonian Powers

Most discussions of Kryptonian biology begin and typically conclude with a long list of the powers typical to Kryptonians. These powers are considerable, but are generally used to justify how they are treated. There is no value in me lingering on this much-speculated aspect of our Kryptonian kin.

Instead, I would like to discuss the lesser known traits that I have found to be personally charming.

Diurnalism and Sun-seeking

Kryptonians are naturally diurnal by nature, and are drawn to sunlight. When relaxed, they enjoy basking in our sun's warmth and when injured, or unwell, should rest in either natural sunlight, or be placed near a sunlamp.

Many Kryptonians display a tanned or dark-skinned complexion, which I found initially counterintuitive since it indicates protective melanin in Humans. In a Kryptonian, this coloration is actually indicative of stored solar radiation. In layman's terms, it's a sign of good health in your local Kryptonian.

(Art credit to @domnorian, please support the original work here, it is used here as an example)

Dentition and Diet

The intense demands of the Kryptonian body are supported by an incredibly high metabolism. Although they are primarily sustained by solar radiation, they can and do display a remarkable appetite. This energy is readily burned off by their bodies, so it should be considered offensive to shame or draw attention to how hungry a Kryptonian may appear to a Human.

Instead, attention should be paid to the variety of their diet. I have concerns that Kryptonian nutrition is not necessarily met by traditional human foods, and believe that supplements of various metals, sillica and crystalized minerals may be of great use to them. Further research is indicated, but consider they may not be fully satisfied.

This viewpoint is supported by the Kryptonian dentition, which features a diminutive but handsome set of fangs. As this is one of the more readily visible distinguishing features, some Kryptonians experience self-consciousness when smiling.

If it is of comfort to any Kryptonians reading this, Humans enjoy 'teefies' and like to remark upon the canine teeth of our companion cats and dogs. We find it 'cute'.

Ocular Notes

It has come to my attention that Kryptonian vision is more specialized for use during flight. It has great telescopic capacity, amongst its other various modes, but this can put them at a disadvantage in our society. Being so far-sighted, Kryptonians may struggle to read letters, smaller signs and newspapers without assistance.

If you see a Kryptonian puzzling over a piece of paper, and holding it at arms' length, any offers to help should be gently made. However, Kryptonians are notoriously friendly and inclined to offer help as much as receive it. You may well make a new best friend. In fact you probably will. Statistically.

A smaller note is that Kryptonian eyes- on account of the multiple facets to their vision -all appear to be a unique type of blue. This particular shade is potentially a generative emission of scattered sunlight, though it would require more detailed research and a far longer examination on my part to confirm.

They Purr

Yes, it is true. Kryptonians purr. It is a delight to listen to.

From my observations it seems readily triggered by the presence of children, or a desire to comfort others. As well as by their own contentment, whether physical, emotional and often both.

The frequency of the oscillations seem to differ between the two circumstances, supporting my current theory that this purring is both a form of communication, but separately resonant to encourage bone growth and soft tissue repair in the sick and injured.

Reproduction and Courtship

Having not conducted a relationship with a Kryptonian, I speak from a limited capacity of research. That said, to Humans looking to court Kryptonians, they appear to be receptive to forms of lip contact, and saliva exchange.

Further erogenous zones are speculative, but there is marked sensitivity along the length of the throat and just below the occipital bone.

Love

I put it to you that Kryptonians are not powerful - they are uniquely vulnerable. An endangered culture and people who have shown us compassion alone. They deserve our protection and understanding.

This is the only home they have ever known. They are not strangers from the stars, they are our friends sharing the same sunlight.

They love us. We should love them in return.

B.T.W

PS. @official-clark-kent I am no reporter, but I did enjoy trying my hand at a small thinkpiece. Perhaps we could go fishing sometime?

[undyslady]

Belmont's Newcomer

Alucard x Reader

☆

The small village was slowly turning into a fully functional one. Everyone's work was reflected in the small but comfortable houses around the large haunting castle. The castle did not seem so haunting now, actually.

Under Sypha's commands, everything fell into place and everyone had no one to thank but her because even in her pregnant state, she put together a prosperous community.

The village had attracted some newcomers here and there but not many had stayed long, except for her.

It was the calmness and seclusion of the village that had pulled her like a moth to the light. It was something she craved, quiet and tranquility.

It was one of those rare hot days, where the meals had to be prepared outside and everyone would hold a large picnic. Sypha separated portions to everyone, prioritising the children, while Trevor handed out water and fresh juices and that was only because Sypha spent 30 minutes bullying him into doing it.

To Alucard, this crowd helped ease his loneliness and kept his dearest companions near him, he felt the most content he had been in a while. The sun warmed his skin,  sighs left his lips as if his exhaustion evaporated into the heat of the day.

The small moment of stillness was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on grass, something so quiet yet nothing was ever quiet to Alucard. He opened his eyes, to be met with a face he was not too familiar with.

A face of pale complexion, large brown eyes staring down at him with something akin to curiousty, plump lips formed into an awkward smile and long brown wavy hair put into a side braid summed up the woman before him. She held up a plate of food and water hurriedly, as if she feared he'd ask why she was there.

"I do not know if you can eat this food but.." she knelt to place the food on the warm grass next to him and looked up at him "here it is."

"I am sure I can eat it" he said in his usual velvet and smooth voice. "Thank you". He gestured for her to set the playe beside him and expected her to leave, however he was proved wrong.

"Do you care for company ?" she asked, but she was already sat beside him before he could answer.

"Suppose I don't mind company" he replied, eyeing her in an analytical manner.

"AH, so easy to befriend.." she exclaimed, leaning to the side* "...all you care about is draining me of my blood isn't it ?"

What a strange woman..

"You caught me, all I care about is trapping you, and pouncing on you so I can feed" he said, chuckling slightly.

"Oh dearie me!! I am caught with no escape!" She exclaimed dramatically as she fanned herself, faux worry written on her face.

"Oh yes, completely at my mercy" he played along, an odd smile in his face.

She cleared her throat, looking up at him with the best puppy eyes she could give.

"Then...if you help me get water from the pond, I promise not to put up a fight" she batted her eyelashes at him. It was adorable to him, a small part of him melted to this display but it was clear she only meant it as a joke.

"AH, I am being used..." he said shaking his head, standing up slowly "tsk tsk, here I thought I found a true companion"

He extended his hand to her, who gladly took it and hoisted her up.

"Well perhaps you may guarantee a true companion if you entertain me while we walk to the pond" she said, giving him a sly smile as she began walking, Alucard beside her.

"I have many stories to tell" he trailed off, glancing at her.

"Oh oh oh! I have a question!" she practically jumped at the thought of being lend the knowledge of his year.

She inched closer to him, awaiting permission.

"Well, how could I refuse a companion like you.." he said, shrugging and taking slower steps so she would not fall too behind.

"Okay, okay.." she inhaled deeply, "do your fangs suck blood in or are they there only fore piercing the skin?" she asked, but  before he could answer her voice rang through the space again. "Can you eat our food because you are half human ? Do you ever get tempted to drink from a human ? Please don't let it be me, we are very secluded right now! Ohhh but I am so curious to how it would feel...can you make it less painf-" a loud sigh cut her off as he only shook his head, rubbing his temple.

"I should have never let the villagers open their gates to you"

A sarcastic remark that left her standing in one place, mouth agape as she whined.

"Heeeeyyyy!!!"

"Hurry, or I will leave you behind in the woods." He gained another companion.