#his face is slightly more like. reptilian but not all the way reptilian

[athanasius-symposium-of-writings]

I absolutely love n adore your writing especially your IDV Norton/ Fool’s Gold ones (I am a huge ! major ! simp for him). I need MORE OF FOOL’S GOLD— the size difference is getting to me!!

I hope you’re taking requests! :> Fool’s Gold is just sometimes always in thought at how different the size is between him n reader? Like. Just how do they handle him so well ?? Or even, just like the idea of cat and mouse BECAUSE OF THE SIZE DIFF.. this can be a nsfw oneshot or drabble but it’s up to you entirely!!

rated Explicit | Warning: it kinda feral

Norton Campbell has always been the one who towers above you, Andrew, William, and himself being the tallest in the survivors' group. This translated to his hunter counterpart who is the tallest of the hunters next to Disciple, Evil Reptilian, and himself.

When he is around you, he is often standing beside or behind you, a grin on his face as you watch you crane your name to look at his face— The same thing you do with his other self, but is different.

There is arrogance, cockiness, and sadistness in his wide toothy grin. Especially, when he has you all alone and his excitement is clear by the way he has you on a medical bed at the second level of the Sacred Heart Hospital.

He was particularly vicious in this match. He is of course a vicious hunter, but this felt a bit personal as he had downed Freddy, Kreacher, and Servais. It was like he was… God, you should kick him for being territorial— None of them are a threat, but you know Norton never particularly liked them.

“So small.” Keeping his deformed hand pinning your arms above your head, “To think this has taken all of my cock.” His other hand cupping your crotch, “Bet you can take us both.”

The idea of both Nortons being inside of you as you flustered, embarrassed thinking how many times that was close to happening. You fear if that happens, you might not be able to walk properly for a while. Yet, the idea excites you and he chuckles at how you bite down on your lower lip. His hand moved up and down. Your hips raised begging silently for more.

“Say you can, no, say you will take us both, sparky.”

You try to speak knowing he is going to use it as an opportunity to have you moaning louder midway— Still, you foolishly try and once again you are moaning.

“Sensitive today, huh?” Raising an eyebrow at how you easily moaned a little too loudly. His hand moves under you grabbing the waistband of your pants, a push up and a pull as exposes your ass and legs to the slightly warm air.

“That little bastard.” He yanked your pants with your underlings off your legs taking a shoe with it before tossing it on the ground beside his feet. Now he can see why you were sensitive, the bite marks on your thighs and your hole smelling heavily of arousal— That weak brat made sure to cum inside of you too, giving Fool’s Gold the sloppy seconds of your hole.

“Fine,” Unzipping his pants, “This will only make it easy for me!” You squirm as he picks up your leg and brings it up to your shoulder, “Let's take that pretty voice of yours from him in return.”

You would have thought he was gonna slam right into you, no he made sure to drag out the sensation of him filling you. Norton is well endowed, to say the least and he is always something you might not ever get used to— Fool’s Gold is bigger, considering he can reconstruct himself… Of course, he made himself big enough to have a bump appear on your lower stomach from him filling you so much. And he loves to not only point it out but touch it to actively remind you: he is bigger.

So competitive, not that it does not have its advantages but, God, you are always sore.

“Now say what I told you to say before.” Now fully inside of you, “Say how you can take us both, sparky.”

You say it softly with your face turned away, then you say it again louder when he starts a rough pace making you immediately realize you are in fact that sensitive.

“That's it,” Laughing as repositions you to have both your legs pressed against your chest so he can reach even deeper, “Go on, tell me how bad you need us.” He wants to feed into his ego, loves hearing you admit how you love Norton Campbell so much— How you love every fucked up piece of him like he is a diamond rather than Fool’s Gold. “Fuck, every time so tight.” You moan out his name, the desperation for release with each ‘Norton, Norton, Norton’ you say.

“Whore,” Groaning, “My whore.” His hands, both of them holding your legs. Your hands gripping the dirty surgeon table as the Hunter fucks you relentlessly. A mix of spite and his own desperation for you.

[tiredmamaissy]

Non-Unrequited Love: Part II

Read Part I, Part III & Special Ep. I here. (Links are also below)

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Lo’ak Sully (18) x Omatikaya Reader (18)

Warnings: nsfw, heavy smut, profanity, foreplay, oral sex, lo'ak in rut

Word count: 3.8k

Authors Note: enjoy!

Synopsis: Now that you're lo'aks mate, you calm him during his rut.

Previously on, Non-Unrequited Love:

...’Now we are mated, before Eywa.’ Your chest gets hot.

‘For life.’ His leans in and kisses you passionately...

You are yet again exploring his mouth with your tongue, but this time with a little more experience. He’s grabbing you by the waist and manhandling your hips, pulling you as close to him as he can. You can feel the urgency in his touch, his hands searching each inch of your untouched, unfucked body, eager to make it his.

You’re both moaning into each other’s mouths, panting, and gasping for air, while you search each other’s bodies clumsily. There is so much to explore, and so much to learn about one another.

“Lo’ak, touch me here” you bring his hand to your breasts, “it felt good when you did it earlier”.

His hands fumble with the thin cloth covering your breasts, eagerly trying to unknot it. Out of frustration, he rips the cloth down the middle, exposing your aroused breasts. It’s the first time that he’s seeing you naked like this. He stares longingly at your chest, admiring the different textures and colours before him.

“I said touch them, not burn holes into them” you cover them with your hands, feeling shy.

“Why are you hiding? You’re beautiful.” He says, gently pulling your arms away from your chest.

Can I taste them? he looks at you through faded eyes, kneeling slowly.

You’re so out of it. You smile, bringing his head to your left breast. His lips part slightly, blowing hot air on to your breast, making your nipple even harder. You guide his open mouth to your nipple. When he takes it into his mouth, you can’t help but moan.

“Ngh!” He sucks your breast harshly, succumbing to the urges of his rut. “Ah! Gently...” you hiss.

He looks up at you, with reptilian eyes and unlatches. He wipes his mouth, and mumbles through pursed lips “Sorry”. You look at your breast to see a rounded bruise-like mark left on your areola - a hickey, bright and pink, with small red dots. 

You smile at him, reassuring him with your eyes that it is okay. “Now, this one” you say, nudging his head over to your other nipple.

He starts by licking your nipple with the tip of his tongue, listening to your breath to know what feels good. He slowly takes you into his mouth, and suckles awkwardly, trying to find a good pace and rhythm. His quick sucks send small shocks throughout your breast, making you take a sharp breath.

“Feel good?” he mumbles between sucks, drunk off the flavour of your skin.

“Yes” you close your eyes tightly, “f-feels great”.

You pull his head closer to your breast, gripping his braids tightly. He sucks rhythmically, occasionally tickling the most sensitive part of your nipple with his tastebuds. You feel his hand slide slowly against the soft flesh between your thighs, rubbing it as gently as he can. Your loincloth is soaked, wetting his fingers that fondle you innocently.

Surprised by his glossy fingers, he pulls away from your breast, his mouth making a popping noise, and moans “Shit. You’re soaking wet, y/n”. He smells his fingers eagerly, trying to pick up your scent.

Soo good. He sniffs your natural scent once again, holding his breath to savour it.

“I want to taste here, too” He pleads, fiddling with the knot on your undergarments, making his way down your body.

Jeez, Lo’ak. You blush, slightly humiliated.

Placing your hands gently on his jaw, you pull him back up to you, and plant kisses all over his face. These kisses morph into your flushed cheeks caressing one another, cherishing the smoothness of each other’s skin. You work your way back to his wet lips, covered in saliva from suckling at your breast, and kiss him sloppily.

Your hand falls down to his crotch, feeling the warmth of the bulge in his loincloth. His quick pants turn into groans as you rub against the imprint of his cock.

“It’s so thick...and stiff.” You whisper, between frantic kisses.

He breaks the kiss, peering down at your hand fondling his bulge. His face stains pink, as your touch feels so, so good. You slide your hand into his loincloth, and his head slowly dips back while squeezing his eyes shut.

“Nggh... y/n.” he pants, rubbing himself against the palm of your hand.

You see your chance to take advantage of his exposed neck, sucking on it harshly, leaving behind the same marks that are on your breasts. You feel his swollen head, resembling that of a mushroom in shape, pulsating in your hand.

The pressure in your chest builds, and you feel a new feeling in your own pelvis growing. You struggle with the knot of his loincloth, eager to free his throbbing cock.

Easy, pretty girl. He holds your shaky hands.

“Look at us, two na’vi, in a jungle, all alone” he smirks, helping you unknot it.

You watch as it flips up, hitting his stomach, leaving a wet spot behind. Your eyes bulge at the sight of it. It’s so much bigger than you had imagined - than in the filthy dreams you’ve had of him. He notices the shock on your face, “didn’t think I’d be so big?” he lets out a breathless laugh.

Your eyes fall to your feet, realizing that you’ve been staring too long. “Why do you smell like the rain?” you change the subject, shyly.

It’s my pheromone. You can smell it because I’m in rut.

You smell good. You nestle your face into the crook of his neck, wrapping your fingers around his cock.

He bucks his hips slightly, reacting to the firm grasp on his member. He slides his knee between your legs, using it to put pressure against your slit as he kneads your breast. You find yourself humping slightly against his leg, breathing heavily into his neck.

“I want to taste you too” you say desperately, now stroking his entire length.

Losing control by the second, Lo’ak shakes his head. “Soon, mate. Hold on a little longer.” He kisses your neck, sucking on it lightly, trying his hardest to cherish this moment as himself. He swiftly replaces his knee with his hand, rubbing circles in your soft, most vulnerable area.

“Mmnhh” you purr into his ear, trying to keep your moans to a minimum.

He moves your loincloth to the side and feels your wet, hot slit, “you’re so warm, here.” He mumbles between kisses. “So slippery, and wet.” He pants hot breaths onto your neck. He moves his fingers towards the top of your slit, gently rubbing your swollen clit. “All because of me?” he nibbles on your collarbone.

A strange feeling builds in your chest, getting more and more intense the longer he rubs you “Mmh! Yes!” you whine, stroking his cock even faster.

He works his way back up to your lips, kissing them ravenously. You feel him getting rougher, and more insistent with his movements. He inserts his middle finger inside of you, hooking it upwards to massage the spongey part of your heat. The pressure building in your chest overpowers the slight sting from his rough fingering. A loud moan escapes your mouth, as you grind your pelvis onto his hand.

Soon his massages turn into thrusts, his body language driven by his impulses. “I want to be inside of you so badly, y/n” he growls deeply into your ear, humping into your hand that grips his cock.

“So, fuck me Lo’ak.” You demand, surprising him and yourself by your lewd words. The feeling in your chest is so overwhelming you feel like you’re about to implode.

Without warning, he roughly withdraws his finger from you and pushes you away from him, breaking tsaheylu. He looks at his feet, panting heavily. “It is time.”

“Time for what?” you huff, somewhat frustrated that he stopped so soon.

“Remember when I said to do as I say? It’s time to tie me up.” eyes still locked on his feet.

You’re shocked by his suggestion. “Tie you up? Is that a kink of yours or something?” you ask, staring at his cock that dangles freely between his thighs.

“’Tis not that.” he peers at you through his brows, restraint plastered on his face. “Ha... Ha” he pants, “I - I’m gonna lose it.” His cock twitches when the words come out of his mouth.  

 He crouches suddenly and searches his bag in a hurry. He hands you a long rope. “Tie my hands behind my back, and then secure it to that root over there.” He motions to a large root, jutting out of the soil, making a small arch way next to the lake.

You nod, understanding his request. You crouch and shuffle behind him, tying his wrists together with shaky hands. After tying the knot, you decide it would be a good idea to double knot it.

“Ssst!” he hisses, “Too tight.”

You loosen it slightly, “Sorry Lo’. Can’t have you getting loose, can we?” you grin, enjoying this a little too much.

“Hurry...” he moans.

His soft noises bring you back to reality. You lead him like a direhorse to the root jutting out by the lake and help him sit. “Are you sure you want me to tie you up like this?”  you ask, concerned for his comfort.

“Just do it.” He growls.

The depth of his voice frightens you, making you obey his order. You tie him tightly to the root and kneel before him.

“Just do as I say...” he gazes up at you. “...and I won’t end up hurting you.”

You can see how badly he’s trying to restrain himself from completely slipping under his trance. “Okay, my mate.”

“Good girl. Now lay in front of me, and spread your legs.” he commands.

You raise an eyebrow and widen your eyes; the way he says these words makes your heart skip a beat. You shyly obey him. You lie flat on the ground in front of him, and open your legs, exposing yourself to him.

You lift your head and see that he too has his legs open, his hung cock freely brushing against his thigh, and his hands tied behind his back. His head is tilted downwards, allowing a few of his braids to hang in front of his eyes, which are staring immensely at the sight before him.

Oh, Great Mother. You think, as you witness his cock grow, getting harder and harder, leaving his thigh, and laying against his stomach.

Shit. He realizes that you can see him get excited just from looking.

You both stare at the erotic sight in front of you.  

“Don’t stare... Lo’” you close your legs a little, feeling timid.

“’tis more beautiful than I’ve been imagining” he murmurs, mesmerized.

You blush, opening your legs even wider than before, exposing your dripping slit. Knowing that you’ve been the one he pictures while spending his time here on this island alone makes you feel overly confident.

“That’s my girl.” He praises, “Now, put your finger inside of you, just like I did”.

You insert your finger inside of you and pump it in and out. It doesn’t really feel all too great, no where near like it did when Lo’ak did it. He could see that you weren’t really enjoying it.

“Is it hurting?” he watches you, his stiff cock aching.

“It doesn’t feel the same. Can’t you do it?” you huff, shifting your hips to the side.

“Calm. You must be stretched. I will please you soon” He growls, “have you really never pleasured yourself before?”.

“Not really…” you whine quietly, feeling flustered.

“Bend your finger upwards” his eyes fall directly on your slit, you hook your finger up, and jolt from the pressure in your bladder.

“That’s it, pretty. Feel that spongey part?” he asks, raising his brows.

“Ngh.. yes.” You squeal, feeling the same strange sensation build in your chest.

“Tell me how it feels” Lo’ak pants, heavy eyed.

“It feels... weird.” You moan softly.

“Now, move your finger and your hand at the same time.” He breathes, getting more excited by the second.

You move your hand up and down, massaging your sweet spot. The feeling in your chest starts burning, “Lo’ak!” you moan loudly, curling your toes inwards.

“Yes, that’s it. Moan my name until you cum.” He’s grinding into the air.

“Oh, Lo’ak... I don’t know, I don’t know...” you mumble, focusing on the sensation.

“Add in another finger when you feel ready.” He instructs huskily, intensely watching the erotic sight in front of him. He wanted nothing more than to break out of his constraints and help you – no, fuck you.

You thrust your finger inside of you, making circles into the spongey part of your heat, watching your mate stare at you longingly, nibbling on his bottom lip. There’s something about having Lo’ak watch you do this that turned you on even more.

As more and more slick starts flowing from you, you plunge another digit deep inside of you. Finally getting the hang of it, you start grinding into your hand, watching your mate buck his hips.

“Ugh! Lo’ak... It feels so – so weird!” the strange feeling is getting more and more intense; it feels like you’re about to burst. Knots form in in your lower stomach, and your chest feels like it’s on fire. “ngh... Lo’ak, what’s happening? I feel like I, I- ngh!”

“Say it.” He growls. He feels like he’s going to cum just from watching you go over the edge. He’s never been this excited before and being in rut just made it even more intense.

“I – I don’t know! I feel like I’m gonna explode...” you whimper, your walls clench around your fingers.

“You are going to cum. Say it.” He pants heavily. Strings of precum are dripping from the slit of his pulsating cockhead onto the ground, making a small pool of his slick.

Your moans pierce the air as you hump your fingers eagerly, chasing your first orgasm. “Ah! Hah! Ah... Oh! Oh, fuck!” the knots in your stomach pop, and the fiery sensation in your chest runs down your spine and out your slit.

“Say it!” he demands, head tilted back slightly, looking down at you.

“I’m cumming, Lo’ak!” you cry loudly, listening to your hand slap against your skin.

“Let it out. Cum for me.” He commands. His cock is moving from throbbing so badly. You force your fingers out of you as your body convulses, and your cunt pulsates uncontrollably. With shaky legs, you dip your head back in ecstasy, gasping for air.

“Shit, y/n.” seeing you cum like this sends him into a fit, bucking his hips into the air, his cock dying for friction.

“That was... amazing. I’ve never felt that way before, I –” you down at your mate, to see that he’s completely wet, covered in your juices. You look at him, dumbfounded, to see that he’s in complete and utter bliss. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know that I could do that” your face turns purple.

“Come here. I want to taste you.” He says between breaths.

Wide eyed you stare at him, he’s still slightly rutting into nothing, his cock, twitching for attention. You creep towards him, kneeling in between his legs with your tail curled around resting on your thigh. 

“Put your fingers in my mouth.” He demands. 

You take your wet fingers and slide them slowly into his mouth. He sucks, and swallows. He pulls back “it’s… sweet.” He looks up at you with siren eyes, “I want you to come in my mouth”.

The lewd words coming out of his mouth made your heart sink and your tail sway, accidentally brushing against his cock. 

He whimpers at the slight touch of your soft tail, caressing his bulging head. 

“Turn around and bend over, now.” he becomes more demanding as his slips further into the fog.

You turn your back to him, and bend over.

“Good girl. Now, back up and put your sweet, sweet pussy in my mouth.”

Much like you’re in a trance yourself, you follow his orders like a good little girl, slowly creeping back until you feel his warm, wet tongue press against your cunt. Your face gets hot as your now staring down at his raging cock, which is begging for attention.

He laps up your juices greedily, parting your lips with his tongue. It was like he was kissing your pussy, sucking on your clit and gulping the juices that flow out of you. You look underneath you and see that slick is dripping down his chin, onto his neck, as he eats hungrily.

The feeling is like no other. The bean at the top of your slit heats up, as he rubs it side to side with the flat of his tongue. Suddenly, it’s like his body knows what to do once slipping into the thick of his rut. It feels too good. It feels like when you first came, but this feeling is rawer and more sensitive.

You find yourself whining in circles on his tongue, chasing yet another orgasm, holding onto his knees tightly. Now at the height of his rut, he bucks his hips instinctively, unintentionally brushing against your cheek. He lets out a guttural moan, his cock finally thrusting against something other than air.  

Feeling sorry for his swollen cock, you take it into your warm mouth, and caress the underside of his head with your tongue. Surprised by the pleasure, he thrusts harshly, pushing his cock even deeper inside of your mouth. You let muffled moans vibrate through your nose, as you will yourself to take as much of him as you can into your throat. Lo’ak lets out a loud groan, already nearing his peak.

“Mmmh! Mmnhh!” he whimpers as you take in even more of his shaft, your eyes fill with tears.

He picks up speed, moving his head side to side in hopes of sending you over the edge before he does. You can’t even form a coherent thought, you’re too focused on making him cum first to pay attention to the burning sensation building in your pelvis. Instead, you bobble your head up and down his length, sucking as much as you can.

“Ugh! Mmmnnh!” he groans into your cunt. Just as you feel like you’re winning, he forcefully shoves his cock to the back of your throat. You can feel it pulsate, spurting warm, thick cum down your throat. You stop moving, allowing your mate to empty his seed down your throat.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck” he moans, pulling away from your dripping pussy, his head dipping back in exhilaration.

You swallow loudly, gulping down his huge load. You sit up and wipe your mouth, looking at his cock between your legs, which is still throbbing and rock-hard. You glance back at him, and the look on his face you’re met with is priceless, it’s like looking at a frightened yerik. Not only is he shocked by your lewd behaviour, but he seems flustered from cumming first – in your mouth at that.

“I’ve been wanting to taste you, too” you reassure him, licking the salty taste off the corner of your mouth. His irises flicker between a dark and light green. “How many ruts did you say you spent here alone?” you ask, out of breath, trying to get off of him.

“This would’ve been my fourth” he pants, peering at you through his brows.

“Okay. One down, three more to go” you hum, turning around to face him.

With shaky legs, you try to mount your mate, feeling eager to fuck the sense back into him. A rush of blood stains his cheeks, his eyes following yours as you mount him.

“You should really take all three of your fingers before trying to take me” he suggests, breaking eye contact to glance at his raging, 13-inch cock, rubbing at your opening.

You scoff loudly, and try to squat down on his cock, taking him inside you. His cock slips against your hole and slides past your clit. “Ahh...!” You look down at his member, which is poking your belly button, and realizes he was right – It wouldn’t fit inside you this tight.

You dismount him and turn back around and bend over once more. You support yourself with one hand flush on the flora beneath you and swoop your other hand under your belly.

Your cunt’s plump lips are bulging out between your thighs, with slick dripping down your slit onto his cock, mixing with his. Rubbing the bean-like bump at the top of your slit, you arch your back, pushing your ass into the air.

“Fuck” he mumbles under his breath, “it’s even prettier at this angle”.

He wants nothing more than to slam his rock-hard cock deep inside of you, but no matter how hard his bucks his hips he only just brushes against your hole. It’s like torture. “y/n. Fuck yourself. All three fingers.” He demands of you, smothering you with his pheromones.

Under the influence of his strong scent, you obey his every word, sliding all three of your fingers into your slippery hole, hooking them upwards and fucking yourself. The huge stretch stings at first but subsides quickly when the familiar hot feeling in your chest returns full force. You find yourself digging even deeper to reach the sweet spot in your cunt, whining on your fingers in the process.

The electricity surging up and down your spine makes your tail quiver from side to side, wrapping tightly around Lo’ak’s throbbing cock. Your touch sends him over the edge, forcing him to buck his hips into it.

“That desperate?” you giggle between your moans, using your tail to grip him harder. You peek behind you to see that he’s fighting with the rope that ties his wrists tightly behind his back, trying to break free of his constraints. “You wanna fuck me, don’t you, pretty boy?” you tease, knowing he can’t get loose.

“Fuck. Yes, y/n!” Hearing your filthy mouth tease him for the first time drives him into a frenzy, making him moan noisily as he thrusts through your tails grip like an animal. Just seeing him thrust his hips like that makes the strange feeling in your chest more intense, but hearing him moan your name makes you spiral.

“I’m gonna! Ugh! F-fuck, Lo’ak! I’m about to cum!” you release silent screams as you finally reach your peak.

“Oh fuck. Me too *thrust* me too! *thrust* Ughh!” he growls, pushing his cock as far as it can possibly go.

Your legs tremble beneath you as you push your fingers out of you, using them to rub your swollen clit, while you gush your sweet nectar on your mate’s cock. He holds his position, letting out guttural groans as he finally spurts thick, sticky ropes of cum in the air.

Exhaustion washes over the both of you as you gasp for air. Releasing him from your grip, you turn around and tower over your mate. “That’s number two.” You pant, trying your best to mount him yet again, with weak, shaky legs.

Read part I & III here:

Part I:

Part III:

Special Episode I:

[lexsssu]

Possess (Xiao)

TAGS: Xiao/Dragoness!reader, jealousy, dirty talk, smut, drabble Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Your persistence is as admirable as it is aggravating. Don’t you have any other unfortunate soul to target?” 

The yaksha’s low, irritated voice didn’t perturb you a single bit. Rather, it only seemed to spur you on even more as you leisurely circled him, molten gold orbs glinting with mirth and a hint of possessiveness. 

Arriving at a whole new world was daunting to say the least, especially since this world was filled with both powers and dangers alike. You were simply fortunate enough to be transported here within your game avatar's body, including ALL her powers and items. However, waking up in an unfamiliar place by your lonesome can make even the most level-headed person feel so lost.

You were simply lucky that a passing antisocial adepti spotted you and offered his assistance, albeit acting surly and taciturn the whole time he begrudgingly accompanied you to the nearest safe haven, Wangshu Inn to be precise.

“But Xiao...you know you’re my favorite person in all of Teyvat”

There is no shame to be found in your eyes nor your movements as you slip your arms around his slim waist from behind. If you weren’t wearing a glamour right now, your reptilian tail would have been wagging right now as you unabashedly press your body against the male’s. So close that you could smell the scent of earth and nature that eternally clung to him, even that small hint of copper underneath wasn’t unknown to you.

Xiao stiffened instinctively, almost summoning his lance but managing to stay his hand when he both heard and felt rumbling from you. You were...purring? 

“Only you deserve ALL my attention”

The yaksha decidedly chose not to pay attention to the warmth of his body as you press the full softness of your own body against his own battle-worn one, the stiff peaks that decorated your plush bosom making themselves known through the irritatingly thin clothes you wore that almost seemed like a second skin. (You yourself always had a higher temperature unlike normal humans so of course he felt hot and not because you affected him in any sort of way of course!).

You’ll be the death of him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why is it that the moment I turn my eyes away, you’re already entertaining that Fatui mongrel?” Writhing shadows enveloped the adepti’s form as a malevolent green glow bathed his body. “Are you so starved for attention that as soon as any willing male appears before you, you’re practically ready to spread your legs for them?”

Laid against the green grass with only the remnants of your tattered clothes to cushion you, you were savagely taken by the jade-haired warrior beneath the light of the moon and stars. Despite the tranquility of your surroundings, there is only desperation and a primal urge to possess you in every snap of Xiao’s hips as he ground his cock into your warm, wet, and welcoming cunt. The tip knocked at the very entrance to your womb with how fiercely he plowed into you, a small bulge slightly poking from your stomach each time he shoved the full length of his dick into your pussy.

“If I truly allowed myself to release ALL my inhibitions...I’d have tied you down already for all eternity. I’d breed your womb again and again until my seed takes and you’d bear all my young” 

Maybe it was the light of the moon above, but Xiao’s own gold hues were brightened by an unearthly light as they bore into your own. His perpetually frowning face was replaced by a feral snarl, possessiveness leaking out of the yaksha in waves as he fucked you into the ground like an animal. The mating press he had you in ensured that you were as close to one another as possible, allowing you barely half a second of respite before he plunges his heavy girth up to the hilt.

“Regardless if it was merely a ploy to gather my attention...I hope that you know there is no more escape from me. Our fates will now forever be intertwined until time itself ceases to exist.”

[black-suns-rim]

Cuddling a yautja

Summary: you had a hard time sleeping, so you went to go get a late night snack but ended up falling asleep right next to your yautja friend while watching a movie with him.

Contains: some wholesome platonic cuddles

The endless buzzing of the ship's interior slaving away to make sure it runs well was somewhat of a soothing noise that you've gotten used to after the past couple of months. Maybe buzzing wasn't the right word... more like humming or the sound of vibration. Almost every night you fell asleep to that noise, but this night you just couldn't. It didn't have the soothing touch you had experienced last night. Laying on your plush floor bed, your gaze wondered around your metalic room.

To the books that hung from your wall on smooth selves, from the warm yellow Christmas lights that dangled from the ceiling and the various other objects of entertainment, memorabilia, or every day use. Your mind could not just rest as your eyes grew tired. Huffing in agitation for your lack of rest, you sat up, tossing the furr skin blanket off of your body. You pressed your back to the cold metal of the ship's interior and closed your eyes.

You recalled the first day of agreeing to go on this mission, but you never truly knew what you were getting yourself into. You recalled how you freaked out seeing this alien ship from the outside and in. You recalled how meeting another life form that didn't originate from earth made you extremely anxious, nervous but excited. It's not everyday that you get to be part of a crew where one of your members wasn't human. The thrill of learning everything you could about them was something you never found boring. Even though it's only been a few months, you have grown pretty close to this alien. Closer than to any human you've known.

As the soothing cold metal wall began to warm up from your hot skin, you leaned forward and rubbed your face. You peeled open your eyes and sluggishly stood to your feet. Unlocking the padlock door, you exited your room and placed your hand on the wall, trailing the lines with your fingertips as you walked. You knew everyone was asleep by now, so you made sure to step quietly. It was easier to do so with some kind of padding on your feet, but your feet were bare. You just liked how the freezing metal felt compared to the slightly humid and muggy air of the ship.

Perhaps a late night snack would be able to get your mind to finally rest. The walk to the kitchen wasn't too long since the ship was a decently small one. Though it could hold well over 20 crew members, the design of the ship itself made sense and wasn't as confusing as the other ships you've been on. But then again, the other ships you've been on weren't alien in origin. You were somewhat surprised to see someone was already in the kitchen at this time, but when you realized who it was, your surprise left and it was replaces with understanding. The alien, the predator some called it, a yautja others said, the only alien on board that also owned this very ship, was cutting up some fresh vegetables and meat.

He turned his long-haired head towards you as you walked in. The metal jewelry in his hair-like tendrils hit together in somewhat of a musical way like wind-chimes in a breeze. His bulking but soft stature and body shape gave him the nickname "Big Papa" amongst the crew since not many knew how to pronounce his actual name correctly. His pearcing crystal watery blue eyes followed you as you sleepily grabbed an apple from the small fruit basket that had been undisturbed for a while. All the while, he kept chopping away. He slowly clicked his tusks together as he focused his attention back to the cutting board.

You still weren't used to the strange noises he made, but you found all of them fascinating. Just like his reptilian skin and earthly colorations. But the thing that you found the most striking about him was the brilliant crystal blue thin striped lines on his tendril hair. You leaned on the counter as you ate the sweet crisp and juicy apple. Though you struggled to keep your eyes open, your mind was still trailing off. The feeling of loneliness creeped in which caused you to rub your face and rub under your eyes. Big Papa picked up on you not feeling well. He had a knack for sensing ones emotions.

He ceased his chopping and you looked up at him. His mandibles rubbed together slowly, thinking. "What?" You grumbled. He let out a chuff with a small trill, turning his head to the cutting board and dumping the chopped pieces into a bowl. From what you gathered with the time spent with him, he couldn't speak English, but he understood it well enough to function with this crew. Sometimes he used a translator to speak to you and the others if things were dire or important, but most of the time he would gesture, grunt or mimic speech to communicate.

You finished your apple and he placed a hand on your should. Clicking his tusks together, he gently moved his hand to your back and rubbed it. You felt a wave of calmness hit you as you closed your eyes. You could feel yourself drifting to sleep when he suddenly stopped. A little disappointed, you opened your eyes to see him placing the bowl of chopped vegetables and meat into the cooling storage unit. It wasn't exactly a refrigerator, but you often called it that. The both of you exchanged glances before he left the kitchen. You threw the apple core into the compose bin and drousily walked over to Big Papa to catch up with him, "Wait-"

He stopped and gazed down at you, his eyes filled with such a tenderness to them. "Could we hang out for a while? I'm having a hard time sleeping... and I don't really wanna be alone." He nodded in response. He headed to the recreational room he had made just for the human crew. You followed right behind him. You almost felt like a kid following a parent due to the height difference. Though he was bulky, he tried to make himself as little indimidating as possible. The rec room had a couple of things from Earth like couches, chairs, board games, wooden tables and a TV with many DVD movies to watch. Big Papa grabbed one of the DVDs and was careful to take it out of its case. He had learned the hard way that DVDs were fragile after trying to take one out from iys case the first time around. He places it in the player and turned on the TV. This technology was very primitive to him, but he found it fascinating anyways.

He sat down on the couch opposite of the room from where the TV was mounted to the wall and you sat right next to him, a couple of inches away. The couch dipped down drastically from his weight and it felt like you were going to fall in right next to him. As if you were being sucked into a black hole. He hadn't taken much time, to your knowledge, to watch any of these movies. Seeing an alien like him watch something that was human was amusing to you. It was more of his expressions that you found funny and how he reacted.

You suddenly remembered a question you wanted to ask him from earlier today but didnt have the chance till now, "Hey, do you mind us calling you Big Papa?"

He looked down at you and shook his head no. He clicked his tusks together and turned his attention back to the TV. Halfway into the movie, you began to drift to sleep when you felt a warmth and pressure around you. It felt comforting and safe. Something you haven't felt for a long while now. You felt the need to open your eyes. You saw Big Papa's arm around you and you realized you were leaning against him. You were slightly embarrassed, but you felt too comfortable to move. You closed your heavy eyelids again and everything around you grew silent and distant.

When you woke up, you were smooshed between him and the cushions of the couch. He had his arms around you like a body pillow. His hot breath heaved down on your head but surprisingly it didn't stink like half of the other men's on the crew. You couldn't tell what time it was, but you felt like it was early. You couldn't hear any other movement on the ship from where you were. As you laid there, with his arms around you, you felt as if all of your stresses, all of your negative feelings, you felt that they just didn't exist anymore. It has been so long since you've laid with another being in a platonic way. You didn't want this to end.

You nuzzled your face into his chest, listening to him breath. He took in deep long breaths as he slept and it reminded you of a sleeping dragon. You still felt sleepy but now your mind was active. You realized that you've never cuddled up with this hulking mass of an alien before and you would've never guessed he'd be the type to cuddle. Maybe he was lonely too? Your thoughts were interrupted when he began to shift in his sleep. He placed a leg over yours and the heavy amount of pressure almost felt uncomfortable. Your body sunk into the couch and you shifted to try and feel a little more comfortable with the added weight on you. When you were finally comfortable again, his grip around you slightly tightened and now you felt you were being smothered and constricked.

You gave up on moving and just tried to relax. Closing your eyes, you already thought about the daily chores you'd have to do. Almost every day was the same which started to make you bored. You had all of the chores memorized by heart at this point. Most of your chores involved cleaning. Clean the kitchen, the bathrooms, the halls. Stuff like that. Big Papa would get upset if his ship was even slightly messy. You noticed how he liked things very clean and organized. The organization part you didn't understand though. He organized in a sort of messy way, but it was still organized... to him at least.

You moved an arm to reach over his side, but the air was surprisingly cold, so you moved it back to the warmth that had been accumulated between the both of you. Big Papa was like a heater. You thought it was strange since he was reptilian-like. You would think he was also cold blooded, but apparently not. You suddenly felt someone staring at you, so you opened your eyes just to see one of your co-workers looking at you and Big Papa. This co-worker was an early bird and she usually woke up around 6 am. She held a cup of coffee in her hand and her phone in the other.

"Don't you dare." You whispered. She grinned and took a picture of you being smothered by the alien. You knew this wasn't a devious act since she had a hobby of taking funny or silly pictures amongst the crew. The crew nicknamed her Pinkie because of her upbeat and hyper personality. It was also somewhat of an inside joke.

"This is so going into the scrap book." She whispered back and walked over to one of the tables nearby. Since the rec room was close to the kitchen, everyone ate their meals here. Soon, the other crew members would be waking up and you really didn't want to be teased for cuddling an alien, even if he was a good friend to you. You sighed and decided it would be best if you'd fall back to sleep. At least you wouldn't have to know who saw you like this. This time, it was easy falling asleep unlike the struggle you had last night. You weren't asleep exactly though, somewhere in between awake and asleep. You could hear everything around you, but when you had woken up again, Big Papa was gone and you had a large fur blanket covering you. You felt a little sad but relieved.

You sat up and stretched your body while yawning and rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You folded the blanket and set it on the arm of the couch. You made your way to the kitchen where a couple of your co-workers were making themselves breakfast. Time to get ready for a new day on the ship.

[r0-boat]

How to Break a Dragon's Heart

Yan!Dragon Hassel x Gn!reader

Sfw, Shitty Angst, confession and rejection.

Cw:yandere, kidnapping, killing your entire village just quirky Dragon things

This was the same dragon that kidnapped you? The same dragon that was feared by all, whose mighty roar haunts their nightmares, even for the strongest of knights who's shaking fear when your father even utters his name.

The same dragon that is now hiding behind a "big" rock, its golden eyes watching you closely with awe as if you do not see its pitiful attempts at hiding his large body and how his tail thumps at the ground with each powerful slam, causing the ground around him to shake.

Before you were tense and alert, thinking that he might eat you or torture you, but now, since death has never come and this is the first time that the dragon has made direct eye contact with you, only for him to look…f-flustered? you're just confused…. Hassel watched you a distance; however, when he noticed you were walking toward him, he felt his heart leap out of his chest.

"Human, what are you doing?" his voice bellowing deep and rumbling, but there was a hint of nervousness that you had picked up, giving you more confidence. "What is your plan with me, dragon?" You ask, glaring up at the Beast staring into pools of gold. Its eyes Pierce through your soul; you can see the dragon fangs poking from its maw, sharp like knives built for tearing through soft flesh. Your bravery was one of the many things Hassel loved you for; despite what he was known for, although you're more unsavory opinion of him, you still give him a chance to answer bravely and politely. Realizing that it would be better to talk to you in a more comforting form, a bright light surrounds the figure of the lizard as he shrinks from quadruped to bipedal one, his paws turned into more human hands, though his nails are still sharp like claws. His reptilian maw disappeared completely in favor of a human face. And you dare say, handsome, those same golden eyes that struck fear in the hearts of many knights were now on the face of an older man with a gentle smile. His golden scales disappeared completely in favor of golden locks of hair instead of a low, scratchy, growly voice. His human form sounded smoother and husky. You're he would have captured the hearts of women in your village if he wasn't the same dragon that attacked said village.

"I mean you no harm, little one, I promise."

Even now, in this human form, he still towers over you; small and aggressive like a little firecracker, the way you tense up and bear your teeth at him, the way you stand your ground, narrowly reminding him of a hissing kitten. Hassel, that's all back to his urge to hold you in his arms and nuzzle his face into your neck.

"Lies! You have taken me from my family, holding me in your nest. Tell me the truth, Dragon!"

Hassel sighs, scratching his head with a finger, hoping he could avoid telling you why he had come to your home, setting many people in a blaze to carry you delicately into his claws. He could feel heat rush to his face, his heart starting to beat with nervousness, setting trying to find his words.

"I- I'm in love with you. I wish to court you."

Those words hit you harder than a cart going down a hill at full speed. You expected many things, but a confession from the most terrifying dragon in all the legends was not one of them. And even now, Hassel stands before you, fidgeting with his fingers, eyes looking nervously at the ground, waiting for an answer, which is struggling even to be a concept in your mind.

Your hesitation is apparent to him; perhaps he owes you an explanation. He gives you a soft look full of love, approaching you; you stand before him, still frozen and dumbfounded; it hadn't fully occurred to you when fingers gently caress the side of your face, looking deep into your eyes. An arm snakes slowly around your waist, pulling you slightly closer to his body. His voice, low and husky, lowers it even more to a whisper. To tell you something only he wants you to know

"I've been watching you with every chance I get, whether it be perched upon high cliffs or in my human disguise. Your kindness warms my heart; your smile is brighter than the sun despite your kind, greedy, and nasty tendencies; you still bless them with your love, giving things up to the less fortunate and working hard alongside your fellow man. Your soft heart is something I rarely see in my kind. I can't help but be attracted to you."

The dragon poured his heart out to you. You hate to admit it, but his confession was cute. You had almost forgotten that he'd burned down half your village just to kidnap you.

Your face flushed as embarrassment slowly turned into anger, pushing him away. Hassle's eyes widen, filling with her as he stepped back from you when you escaped from his arms.

"I-I don't love you, and I never will take me back! If you truly loved me and brought me back to my Village to my home!"

You practically scream, your voice raising at the sick monster that claimed who loved You after killing half of those you cared about and burning down your home. Hassel chokes up, heartbroken, and it hurts to no end. He could feel his body shake; his chest tightened so much it was hard to breathe. It hurts being rejected by someone he loved quietly for years, conscious teeth trying to fight back the tears, studying his breath; he wanted to escape into his den to cry. But he didn't want to lose you years of pining just to be yelled at? No, he needed you. His heart hurts, but he can't let you go. Those golden eyes that looked at you with love lost their shine, darkening as he walked closer. Suddenly, the air has changed, feeling more hostile. Instinctively, you step back, which only makes him stalk closer. His voice was no longer gentle; it was direct and commanding as he growled. "I apologize, but I can't do that." This is when you realize he was much stronger than you, grabbing you and yanking you back into his arms with ease. Like you were a mere rag doll, was he only humoring how weak you actually are compared to him? Maybe, just maybe, if he keeps you, perhaps you'll fall for him. To love him just as profoundly as he left you. Only time can tell, and unfortunately for you, he has an eternity.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Your bird adeptus reader posts have me gnawing at the bars of my enclosure theyre so good

Okay okey I see your Bird Adeptus Reader and I raise you one Dragon Adeptus Reader, bonus points for that “not quite mastered shapeshifting yet” human disguise that has reader running around with dragon features.

This doesnt have to be considered a request but I feel compelled to share my thoughts with you in gratitude for the absolutely fantastic works you put out okey brainrot time lets go

Bumping foreheads with Foul Legacy like cats (lets be real here dragons are just lizard hardware running cat software) and having to be extra careful because of y’all’s horns so that makes it even more special. Or reader kneeling to like meditate or something, their tail is swishing behind them, and Legacy goes “!” before swatting at reader’s tail because he’s just Abyssal Moth Beast hardware running cat software.

A Dragon Adeptus would likely be very durable as well, so Legacy doesn’t have to worry about squeezing reader while cuddling or knocking into them by accident; they’re still soft and squishy and cute, but very very sturdy and able to handle all that Moth Affection.

Mutual purring, also another good thought. Legacy likes shiny objects, reader is compelled to hoard shiny objects: you really cannot lose in this situation.

It’s cat-like creatures solidarity babey!!

*unlocks your enclosure* i like the way you think anon

amongst dragons and dragon-type creatures you're considered a bit of an oddity. dragons are grand, powerful beasts that command attention or at least respect, like your secondary caretaker Zhongli (Cloud Retainer is still your adoptive mother- just because you're not the same type of adeptus doesn't mean you're not her child!) but you're smaller with softer scales and a long tail with a tuft on the end of it, still plenty durable and armed with sharp claws and adeptal powers, but you don't really have the same intimidating presence as most dragons. that's just fine with you, though- you're far more content keeping to yourself and spending time with Foul Legacy, who, in contrast, looks strong and vicious but has the softest, sweetest personality you've ever encountered, and that includes the few humans you've met and your fellow adepti

you both share several of the same habits, being essentially cats covered in either scales or armor with you being slightly more put together so you can listen to people's wishes and prayers, meditating for a couple of hours each day. whenever you sit down and close your eyes Foul Legacy always sneaks up behind you, not to spook you or anything, just to playfully bat at your tail as you work- you've taken to handing him a brush whenever he does, feeling him happily comb through the tuft of fur on the end. once he tied a little bell around it and broke into chitters of delight when you stood and instantly started jingling. you got your revenge by adoring his horns with some of the ribbons and ornaments you have for yourself- although, he seems to rather like it, so now you take a few minutes each day to pick out accessories for each other's horns, and you have plenty of shiny items to choose from

napping together is essential, particularly in sunny patches of grass. the warmth makes both of you drowsy and lethargic, Legacy nuzzling his head against your cheek and your tail wrapping around his leg. if you're particularly tired you'll change into your draconic form and completely curl around your very happy Abyssal beast, your purrs synchronizing with his. you also nap together in the most smushed clingy positions, since you want to be as close as possible- someone's face is always buried in someone's neck or chest, at all times. Legacy does make a point to be more alert in sleep than you are- you seem to fall into the deepest sleep whenever you doze, maybe it's something to do with you being a reptilian adeptus- just in case someone comes walking by, so he can wake you and help you cover your horns and tail

[kiame-sama]

Yandere Chase Young who decides that for some reason you're his mate? Btw, I love your work.

Mixed Signals- Yandere!Chase Young x Reader

Warnings; Display dance, reference taken from several different species, yandere behavior, exophilia, noncombatant reader, drake instincts are strong, yandere chase young, adult themes, NSFW, noncon, mating, breeding kink, female bodied reader,

When you had gone for a walk in a more wooded park, you had not been expecting the dilemma you now had to face.

Standing ahead of you, between you and freedom, was an impossible creature that terrified you to your very core. The razor sharp teeth lining the beast's muzzle and the wicked claws the beast flashed made your heart race in complete and utter horror. You had no way out, stuck with thick thorn bushes all around other than the way you had come and the exit that was blocked by the reptilian monster that now stared silently at you.

In truth, the beast was a walking nightmare that stood at about 4ft tall on all fours and more than doubled in height when standing on hind legs. As it alternated between the two forms of locomotion, you realized that no matter how the beast chose to pursue you, it would be faster and stronger than you. Rows of razor sharp teeth lined the elongated maw of the beast and black stripes broke up the deep green hide.

The odd red coloration on various parts of the beast seemed to flush an even deeper crimson, splines extended and teeth bared. Amber colored eyes watched you closely almost like it was judging your reactions as the beast stared in silent observation. Each movement was smooth and seemed rather natural to the beast that stared at you, where you watched the beast with uncertain eyes and unsteady legs.

A surprising snap of teeth made you jump slightly as the desire to run filled you, the only things stopping you being that beast and the daunting woods behind you. If you ran back, you would very easily get lost among the towering trees, unable to find your way back. Beyond the beast was home, and no doubt the creature would never let you pass.

The monster snapped it's jaws again as if demanding your attention, noticing the slow way the giant lizard bobbed its head up and down at you. Now the red color along the splines was burning crimson, that color quickly traveling down the throat of the beast as it softly made a chuffing sound. It almost seemed like the monster was trying to coax you to do something, though what that thing was, you didn't know.

The fold of skin between the jaw and neck flared out, expanding and flushing with deep red as the reptile chuffed. In some ways it reminded you of how male birds would puff themselves up to look good for prospective mates. You hadn't seen another one of these lizards, but it was always possible that the beast was posturing for another who you had not noticed yet.

After a moment of chuffing, the beast hissed loudly, making you cry out in fear and stumble back, tripping backwards over a tree root and onto your ass. Before you could scramble to your feet, the creature leaped on top of you, thick forelegs pressed razor claws into the dirt on either side of your head. You were left completely pinned beneath the hulking brute, seeing those amber eyes closely examine your body.

The creature lowered that muzzle full of razor sharp teeth down to your neck, gently prodding at your flesh as it snorted hot air onto your skin. Even with how badly you wanted to run, there was nothing you could do to squirm away from the beast, whimpering as it clacked those fangs together. Your whimper made the beast freeze, and sharply raise up to look at your expression, the creature's cheek pressed against your nose due to how closely the beast stared at you.

A slow secondary eyelid slid across the gleaming amber eyes, the gleaming flecks of gold seemed to sparkle. The smooth scales across the beast reminded you of the slender scales of a snake despite the crocodilian figure. Slow breaths fanned over your skin, almost like the beast was taking deep inhalations of your scent.

Again you heard that low chuff, the sound accompanied with a deep vibrating from within the beast, much like the low rumble of a cat purring. As that maw opened again and glinted white teeth in the light, you felt yourself becoming lightheaded, spinning away from consciousness.

~~~~~~~~

The frightening beast examined the now unconscious figure beneath it, keenly aware of what was typically a sign of submission. A deep chuff rumbled from the chest of the drake, purring so affectionately at the soft female that carried such an alluring scent. Each slow snort gave him more of that attractive scent and his reptilian brain was thrilling in joy.

It wasn't often that he found someone he truly adored the scent of. Usually most people had the scent of prey, not the scent of a mate, yet here this woman was. Some part of his brain that hadn't yet been taken over by the beast realized that falling unconscious was a fear response and the woman was terrified, not being submissive. However, the beast mind was stronger and it couldn't help but salivate in anticipation at the prospect of having found a suitable mate.

~~~~~~~~

There was an intense warmth above you, like someone laying their body across your own and trying to press as close to you as possible.

As you slowly returned to consciousness several things occurred to you. The first was the way you lay on your front, hips propped up on what felt like a pillow. The second was that a rather hot rod was sliding in and out of you at a brisk pace. Along with your second realization, you let out a startled and strangled cry that came out more as a whining moan.

Where you expected soreness or some other pain to come crashing down on you due to the unwelcome actions, only a burning pleasure registered to your mind. The sensation of movement in your violated hole paired uniquely well with the warmth of the beast that lay across your back. Each thrust seemed to send more pleasure into you and you could feel your walls restricting around the large length.

A deep growl rumbled out in response to your body clenching down on the hot length, the thrusting only becoming more wild and frantic. The beast was growling- or perhaps it was purring- as it panted moist warmth onto the back of your neck, long slimy tongue laving over your exposed neck and shoulders. You tried to get your bearings but it was difficult to do when you didn't know where you were and had a giant lizard pummeling your insides.

For a moment, the beast stopped thrusting, adjusting the way it lay over you to rest its chin on your shoulder. The large muzzle of the creature left visible fangs and shot fear down your spine as you realized just how close those fangs were to your face. Somewhere your mind begged you to struggle, but you didn't want to anger the creature that seemed to want to mate you instead of eating you.

As it began thrusting again, that pressure returned with a vengeance inside of you, building and climbing higher with each movement. You were panting and letting out loud whines, gasping for each breath as it was forced back out of you.

When you finally reached that climax that the monster had been pushing you towards, you let out a hoarse moan that only spurred the beast on. Your body twitching and writhing with every following thrust as tears collected in your eyes from the continued stimulation. The beast let out a frightening hiss much like the percussive rumble of an alligator as it stiffened above you.

Heat splashed into your abused channel, spurting with surprising force inside of you as it filled you up. Even when you felt as if you couldn't possibly become any more stuffed, more poured into you and distended your soft stomach. You felt the way the beast softened inside of you, your head falling limp to the bed with an exhausted sigh.

The beast wasn't done yet, though. As you struggled to get your breathing under control, the creature stiffened and began slowly rocking its hips again. You had little energy in you to try and fight or stop the creature as you lay limply beneath it.

~~~~~~~~

Returning to consciousness was difficult when all you wanted was more rest, but your body was crying out for hydration of some kind. Your throat felt dry and stuck together, compelling you to wake and search for a drink. The first thing you saw was a table next to the bed you lay on. It had a cup of what seemed to be water, so you quickly drank it down, grateful for the soothing feeling on your raw throat.

"I see you're finally awake."

A deep and smooth voice startled you, making you jolt and pull the blankets closer to you in an instinctual desire to cover yourself. Standing in what looked like a doorway was a man with deep ebony hair that shined the faintest green in the light. He was lean and muscled which added to his intimidating presence. The thing that made you pause was the color of the man's eyes, a shining bright amber that overtook where the whites of his eyes were supposed to be.

"Wh-who-? Where-?"

"You are in my home- my fortress- and I am the master of this place, Chase Young. Many call me a prince of darkness or a monster, but you may call me your mate."

"You-you're the creature..."

"Technically a Drake. I do apologize for the... State... You found me in. It appears my instincts got the better of me and recognized you as a potential mate."

"Please, please let me go-"

"No. I have already claimed and marked you, you're not going anywhere. Better you get used to the idea now, because I refuse to let you slip away. I have clothes prepared for you at the bedside, feel free to dress- or not, I do like the view- and join me for breakfast. You must be starved by now."

[mint-leaves-in-coffee]

The one who wants more Dragon Tamer Mc: Well 👀 I mean, there are too many things that can be done with that idea, too many wholesome scenarios 😤 such as:Sleeping with the dragons and Mc, Malleus and dragons becoming friends... ah, along with a Dragon Malleus and all his now children with Mc, so many scenarios, really. I would love anything you make since the idea in general is wholesome 😌 cute, and I'm dying!

I'll just turn off anonymous since it's easier for me to get the notification.

Dragons for now are a no-no for sketches. Just imagine they are better looking and they are more(??)

TOOTH!!!! ROTTING!!!

I'm takin this and runnin with it 👍🏻

This is really long because Malleus brainrot go brrrrrrrrr

I write this in my car as I wait for my shift to start waaaaaah

Part 1

Malleus had become accustomed to spending time at the Ramshackle dorm, so much so that they'd given him permission to enter whenever he pleased

The dragons would watch for him out the window and wait for him to approach during his nightly strolls

Then greet him at the door when he entered

The serpentine dragon that always coiled around the prefect's waist would now coil around his

And the other dragons that lived in the dorm building would dip their heads at him both in greeting and as a show of respect

He'd grown quite fond of his time with the prefect and their many dragons

Currently he was sitting next to the prefect in the Ramshackle dorm common room, listening intently as they talked about their day and their classes

Occasionally he'd offered to help them with their studies, but it seemed today that they needed no such help

So he indulged himself in their conversation, responding where he needed to

As his listened though, his mind wandered

Malleus?

They'd asked at one point

Would you show me your dragon form one day?

He'd agreed

In time

When they finished speaking, they stared at his face

They were curious about what had been distracting him, and he knew

Child of man

His voice was questioning, despite the sentence having been formed as a statement

His expression was serious as he looked them in the eye.

Yes, Malleus?

They were slightly concerned about what he would have to say, but that did not change the curious gleam in their eyes

Do you still wish to view me as I appear when I take on the form of a dragon?

Their expression changed to surprised but a wide smile crept across their face

Of course.

Wordlessly he leads them outside, being too big to show them indoors

And when he does their jaw falls open

It was very quick

A blinding green light forced them to cover their eyes and when they looked back Malleus was gone and replaced with a large dragon

They looked up at him in awe, admiring the scales of onyx

With a beckoning motion of their hand, they signaled for him to dip lower his head so they could reach

He obliged emerald eyes closing as he moved to their level

Immediately their hand found his snout and they ran their fingers across the reptilian skin

His scales were smooth to the touch and had a lingering coolness

They moved past his head and wrapped their arms around his neck

Thank you for showing me

Malleus lifted his head up so the prefect dangled off the ground

They yelped in surprise, but slid down onto his back and clung to him.

They could tell from the gleam in his eye that he found it amusing.

The other dragons inside Ramshackle watched from the windows in interest, some even being brave enough to approach Malleus

As he sat, one of the dragons coiled around his tail

The prefect smiled widely at the sight, and wrapped their arms once more around his neck, cheek pressed against his scales

The dragons had taken to him rather quickly, some climbing all over him, others just lying next to him.

The serpent that liked to coil around the both of them had climbed its way to the top of his head and wrapped itself snuggly around one of his horns

As the prefect slid down from his neck, onto his back and down his tail, his wings engulfed them when they touched the ground

They ran their fingers over his skin and as they give him a gleeful smile, he turns back in another flash of green

Thank you. Truly

The fae smiled

Was it all you wished it to be?

They grasped his hand

And more.

Malleus was content

And so were they

[gossipsnake]

TIMING: Daytime, June 7, 2024 LOCATION: Downtown PARTIES:  Anita (@gossipsnake) & Paris (@welcometoparis) CONTENT: n/a SUMMARY: Anita comes across a strange newcomer and offers Paris some friendly lamia advice and some slightly less friendly fashion advice.

After a long trek of reading maps and pickpocketing the right people to afford the bus fare, Paris was in Wicked’s Rest with no more than the powder blue scrubs he wore and the camera he’d taken with him from the lab. He was practically vibrating with nerves, looking around at all the people who walked about the downtown area. Some people stared at him funny, and he was completely unaware of the spectacle he was making of himself, barefoot and lost. Not to mention the tail he had partially shifted with. No one had bothered to tell him, what would they say? Hey buddy, did you know you’ve got a tail? No, no one was going to make mention of the large scaly black and yellow tail that dragged and flicked around behind him. 

His hair was long and unkempt from years of not being able to cut it, not able to take care of it. “Excuse me,” he finally spoke to a woman who stared at him. “What are people staring at?” Paris asked simply, innocently. He shifted back and forth on his bare feet, tail swishing behind him. His English was too proper, clear that it wasn’t his first language, that all of this was foreign to him. This wasn’t his mangrove back home. This was a town full of people who didn’t know of his kind, didn’t know of the atrocities that had been forced upon him. 

He shuddered, then forced the memories of that terrible place out of his mind. “Oh. I am Paris. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” He thrust a hand out toward the woman, a bright smile on his face, though it didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

__

Over the years Anita had seen far too many things - not just in this town but in life - to find herself truly shocked with any frequency. So as she was making her way through the summer crowds of downtown Wicked’s Rest and she came across a man, looking more out of place than anyone she had seen in a while, shock was not her first reaction. It was the reaction of a lot of people around her, however. Normally she didn’t care to put herself in the way of a negatively perceived spectacle so publicly. This was still a small town and people spread enough rumors about her drinking, womanizing, and strange fascination with insects. But this man had a tail. Not just any tail, a distinctly reptilian tail. 

“They are staring at you, amigo,” Anita replied quickly, scanning the area for the most secluded area to hurry him off to. They were close enough to the bus terminal that she had to presume Paris was new to town. With the way he looked, the way he spoke, the way he wasn’t fully shifted -  Anita didn’t know much but she knew this country was hard to come to as an outsider and only harder the more differences that were piled up. “You can’t be like this in public. If certain people see your tail they will not treat you well. You understand, Paris?” She took his hand, shaking it briefly before leading him down a side street off the main walk, hoping he would follow. 

__ 

Tail? What tail? Paris whipped his head around and caught a glimpse of it, suddenly aware of why people were staring. “I did not mean to… I am not used to this.” He explained as he was made to follow. Who was this woman? Would she lead him somewhere that would lead him back to where he came from? Would he go back to that lab full of white coats no, he couldn’t keep thinking of that, he couldn’t let himself think of the atrocities that were committed against him. The tail disappeared after a moment of concentration, but he stayed where he was, too apprehensive to move. He couldn’t let himself be dragged somewhere he couldn’t escape, but… he also knew he needed someone to explain things to him. 

After debating for a few moments, Paris finally forced his feet to move from under him, walking after the woman who may have been able to help him. Anything was better than nothing. It was hard to take that first step, toward someone who could very well be working for Ryan. He had approached her, so he had to take that leap, at least once. So that’s how he found himself off the path with the woman. “I do understand,” he spoke with a tone dripping with hesitation and apprehension. “At least, I am trying to understand.” 

__

A few steps down the more secluded side street Anita stopped, partly to see if the stranger had followed and partly because if they were going to continue further out of the downtown area Paris would need to shift completely into his human form. She was pleased to see that he was, even if several feet behind her, following. “I’m Anita,” she offered, upon realizing she had never responded with the same courtesy he had offered. “It is obvious you are not used to this.” Just as she was about to go into a lecture about his tail, she looked behind him to see that it had been shifted away already. “Oh. Okay, good. So you know how do shift, yes? You just, what? Did not realize you were hauling that tail around?”

Looking up towards where they had come from, there were a few straggling onlookers who peered down the side street. Anita didn’t like how exposed everything felt. A few conversations to a few unsavory people about a strange new guy in town with a reptile tale and the local entomology professor who helped him out wouldn’t be good for either of them. “I don’t know where you were before here,” she paused as she gave him a once-over, “but to be in a town with so many humans around. You have to be careful. Did nobody teach you to be careful?” 

__ 

Her name was Anita. It was easier to hold someone accountable for their actions when he had a name to call them by. Anita. The first friendly face Paris had come across since escaping the lab. Escaping or being allowed to leave? No, he still wasn’t thinking about it. It was easier when he didn’t have to think about it. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to bring himself back to the present, back to where he wasn’t trapped in a cell where people would poke and prod and pinch and stab and– Paris suppressed a full-body shudder that threatened to overtake him. 

“I… am used to a tail. I suppose that I did not realize that it was there since I am so used to it.” Paris admitted, looking away in shame. “I know how, I simply am not used to doing it at will.” Was that too much information, would she be able to figure out his truth from one small admittance? Lie more, that same voice told him. “I do not know where I was before either,” another truth uttered from his lips, another reason he ended up the way he was. Too trusting, too curious. Dammit, dammit dammit, lie! 

“I have not seen my family in many years,” Another truth.

“They taught me, but I…” didn’t listen, he didn’t say, brows knitting together at the realization. “I will be more careful,” he spoke decisively, nodding his head. “I am not used to humans if that was not made obvious enough already.” He swallowed. “Are you like me then? Not human?” He found himself asking. It would be easier to trust if he knew the person he was speaking with suffered the same fate he did, the fate of having to be amongst humans when they were not one.

__

The pauses, the way he seemed to avoid direct eye contact, the matted knots strewn throughout his hair - the pathetic picture that it all painted said a lot but the one thing it said loudest was that none of this was an act. She had no idea where he had come from or why he was here but Anita knew that if he kept wandering around looking and acting like this that his trip to Wicked’s Rest would undoubtedly be a short one. 

“It just takes practice. Doing it at will.” Even though the crowd at the end of the street had dispersed, most of them having seen stranger things around here lately, the area was still too exposed for Antia to feel comfortable letting her own tale loose. Instead she allowed her scales to spread up across her chest and most of the way up her neck in response to his question. “Quite like you.” The scales dissipated just as quickly as they had appeared. “And I wouldn't want it any other way.”

 “This town is dangerous, moreso if you’re not used to humans. If you’re just passing through, maybe I can help you get where you’re trying to go.” Oh god, Anita thought as she wondered if the insult Siobhan had hurled at her back in Ireland was true, was she getting soft? 

_ 

As Anita revealed herself, the scales spreading up her upper body and neck, Paris’s eyes went wide with recognition. “There are more of us here?” He asked, leaning forward, eyes alight with excitement. “Zhēn de ma?” Really? This was good news, news that he hadn’t been led astray, that all those things he had heard were true, this place was a place for people like him. And if he couldn’t get back home to where he belonged, to his Mangrove in his little corner of the world, he could at least be here. That would make Dallas happy, his hatchmate who he had been closest to above all other siblings.

“I am glad to know that I am not alone in this town. There were many reasons why I shouldn’t have believed the rumors I heard.” Paris admitted, running a hand through his matted hair. “First, I need to find out how to get clothes and cut my hair,” he muttered more to himself, switching between his native tongue, English, and French. “I can do portrait art,” he then spoke, pointing to the camera that was around his neck. “I have skills, I just need to find a way to market it.” His face fell, realizing that he wouldn’t be able to succeed as he wanted to, but as a human did to make it in this world. Capitalism. 

“I appreciate your help, but I think I shall take up residence here.” He decided, nodding his head, his expression full of conviction as he stared at the woman in front of him. “I do not trust humans, I have… experiences.” His tone darkened, as did his eyes. “I have heard of this internet, do you think they will like my portraiture?” Paris then asked, changing tracks as quickly as he could, not wanting to delve into his experiences with humans. He didn’t ever want to speak of it. 

__

“What rumors?” Maybe they had been the same ones Anita had heard years ago that led her here, stories of how this placed seemed to pull in supernatural beings from all over. Even though she only understood every third word, it seemed apparent that he at least knew enough to know that he needed to make himself more presentable if he was going to get by. It, unfortunately, seemed like his plan to make money to make himself presentable involved performing a service that ultimately would require him to already be somewhat presentable for. “Yeah, photography’s a great skill. People love getting fancy photographs of themselves taken.” It was her, Anita was people. “Kinda a career you’ve gotta be on the grind for, though.” 

If he weren’t a lamia this is probably where she would have walked away. Hell, if he weren’t a shifter she probably wouldn’t have even interfered back on the street. But he was, and while Anita didn’t have a clue what ‘experiences’ he had previously had with humans, she knew enough about this town to know that desperation led to dire consequences. “Okay,” she sighed, having mentally accepted to at least get him some basic necessities. “We’re going shopping, Paris. You need shoes. In this stupid fleshy form there are lots of things that can hurt our feet.”

She took a few steps further down the street, turning back this time to make sure he followed, “Vamos, pequeño ciervo.” Paris was lucky Anita was who found him. He was lucky she was being so generous. Did he have any idea how lucky he was? “Now, why do you not know about the internet? If you are going to do photography you need to use the internet, it’s the only way anyone does anything.” 

__ 

“This town attracts all kinds,” Paris replied simply to Anita’s inquiry. He spoke as if it were obvious, as if everyone already knew it even if it weren’t the case. Paris looked down to his camera, flipping through the photos that had thankfully been kept safe, that hadn’t been deleted after all this time. It made him sentimental about home. He looked at the portraits he’d taken from earlier, how he’d been able to get here in the first place. Besides pickpocketing, he’d offered to take people’s photographs in exchange for directions. Turned out, that vain people like getting their photograph taken and providing assistance to those that seem unworthy of their time. Was Anita one such person? 

Paris shifted on his feet, then looked back up at Anita from the camera. “I can take your photograph.” He told her, showing her the work he’d done previously, all carefully shot portraits with high contrast. “I know what I am doing, despite not having a formal education.” He let go of the camera, letting the strap around his neck hold the weight of it as he decided that he could, in fact, trust another lamia. If there was anyone he could trust, it was his own kind, but no one else. Even if it was trust, it was only going so far. “Shopping?” He echoed, disdain dripping in his voice. “I have never dressed myself before.” He admitted, fidgeting with the camera strap around his neck. 

“I know of the internet, but my family kept to our mangrove, we did not trust humans.” He explained as they walked, Paris now acutely aware of the stares he was getting from strangers. He wasn’t blending in, this would attract Ryan’s attention. He had to try harder. “I can share my work on the internet?” He asked, figuring that it would be as good of an opportunity as he was going to get, all things considered. “You will teach me about this internet, yes?” He asked, leaning toward her with keen interest. 

“And shoes… human bodies truly are too fleshy for their good, aren’t they?” It was the first time since springing free of the lab that he was able to talk freely about the wonders of the world he had not yet experienced, about how he had stepped on a sharp rock earlier and it hurt like hell, something that wouldn’t have happened if he were in his true form. “I do not think I like human innovation,” Paris grumbled as they walked into a store, eyes narrowing at the choices. “Clothes are overwhelming,” he decided then and there.

__

“Yes, it does. And all kinds includes very dangerous kinds.” Some of his scars were visible, not covered by the scrubs. Anita’s eyes traveled from those scars back to meet his gaze and she simply raised up her eyebrows in a knowing way, not really wanting to breach the topic explicitly. Thankfully, the topic shifted to his photos. She looked through the ones he showed her and they were quite good. Anita loved taking photos too but never of people only of insects. “Yes, you may take my photograph. But not here. Not today. I want to do my hair differently if you’re going to take a nice photo.” Then she paused, smiling softly, “Actually, maybe you could take my photo how I truly look.” 

“That is obvious. But no worry, I will pick the shoes and the clothes. I have truly exceptional taste, you’ll see.” They were already downtown and there were a few decent boutiques nearby that would suffice for the time being - and a barbershop along the way, which was desperately needed. “My family did not trust humans either. But they taught me how to live among them instead of how to live in fear of them. They are just humans.” Anita nodded, thinking back to when she first met Metzli, thinking about all the things about society and pop culture that she had to teach them. “You will owe me many portraits, but yes, I will teach you about the internet. You’ll need to get a phone, at least. I might have an old laptop you can use until you can get one of your own.” 

Shoes were an obvious first thing that they needed to get, though. One of the three basic requirements most establishments would kick you out for not having. “Very fleshy. Very vulnerable. But there is some protection in fitting in. Rangers, those who hunt us, can't detect us when we are fleshy. So we are vulnerable but we are hidden.” Anita walked over to the wall of shoes and grabbed a stylish yet seemingly comfortable pair of white and black sneakers. “Stand on this mat here, where the footprints are, it will say what size you need for the shoes.” As he did so, she grabbed a pack of socks from the wall nearby. “Clothes are fun. But, yes, some find them overwhelming. Put these on, I’ll grab you some clothes that are comfortable but stylish. This blue is really not doing anything for you.” She handed him the socks and sneakers in what appeared to be the right size and then wandered off towards the men’s clothing racks. 

__ 

To say that Paris was overwhelmed with the fluorescent lights and hustle and bustle of the crowded store was a vast understatement. He followed Anita around like a lost little lamb, holding onto what he was given and doing as was instructed. The woman seemed to go around picking out things that worked for his color pallet, whatever that was. It was confusing and far too much, but he was grateful for the assistance all the same.

She was giving him useful information, giving him tips he’d need to not only fit in but to survive. “I appreciate your assistance,” Paris spoke with a grateful bow of his head. “I will take great photos of you, this is a promise I make.” He put on the shoes as instructed, sitting on the bench to pull them on. They were constricting and strange, but at least they would stop sharp rocks from stabbing into his feet. 

They shopping continued, from T-shirts to button-downs and slacks to jeans and pairs of socks. “I do not have a place to store these things,” he admitted, frowning. “I will need to hold onto the bags.” Paris then narrowed his eyes, looking around. “Never mind, I have an idea.” He spoke, beginning to keep tabs on an elderly couple that was shopping around the store. He would follow them home and take care of things. 

__

Anita spun around on her heels abruptly when he made her a promise, still a bit on edge following her trip to Ireland. “Don’t make promises to anyone. There are some creatures, not shifters but a species called fae, if you make a promise to them they can force you to live up to it. Just don’t say that phrase, okay?” After that warning, she shifted back to her more relaxed demeanor and proceeded to pick out a few outfits for Paris. She didn’t get too out of hand, mostly picking some basic staples so that he would have enough pieces to mix and match to get him through any given week. 

Once he had the shoes on and joined her in the racks of clothes, Anita had him try on some things to make sure that they fit. Unsurprisingly she seemed to enjoy the mini fashion show a bit more than he did. After they found enough clothes to establish a basic wardrobe they went to check out and then she handed off the bags to Paris to carry. As they were heading to leave, however, his comment about having no place made her tense up slightly as she became worried that he was about to try and ask to stay with her. Before she could even think about the possibility, or what her response might be, he thankfully seemed to have an alternative idea in mind. She followed his eyeline and smirked, “Excellent.” 

Anita checked her watch, she had a bit more time before she needed to head home for some party planning details. “Alright, there is a barber one street down and an electronic store not too far. I’ll get you a phone while you fix that mess on top of your head. After that I have to leave. I’ll put my number in the phone before I go.” She paused, not sure if it was a good idea or not but deciding to extend the invitation anyway, “I’m having a party tonight, actually. You should come.” 

__ 

Furrowing his brows at Anita’s insistence, he nodded his head. “Okay, I can… do that.” Paris frowned, still unsure as to why, but then she explained it. He didn’t want to be bound to anyone ever again, and that sounded like a sure way to get himself into trouble like the first time. Fine, no promises. He could do that. 

He enjoyed the fashion show only very little, feeling rather silly showing off these strange clothes to a woman he hardly knew. He’d have to find money for a phone, first and foremost. Then, he’d have to find a place to live. He could figure these things out rather easily. Especially with that elderly couple that was checking out and making their way out of the store. He’d follow them later. 

He nodded his head distractedly as she talked about a phone, something he’d seen the workers of the lab often on, taking calls and typing away to someone unknown. “I appreciate your assistance,” Paris spoke as she took him toward the barber where he would cut his hair to just above his shoulders, feeling instantly better the second it was removed. He’d receive the cellphone and immediately send a text to Anita, which would make him feel less alone in this big, scary world. 

And then? Then he would go to a party, whatever the hell that was, and he would stand in the corner of the room, watching the world go by with wide, terrified eyes. Yeah, it was going to take a while for Paris to finally fit in around town, but at least he had someone looking out for him.

[lavenderbexlatte]

day 14: anonymous sex

monsta x 1.9k words gender neutral reader insert Reader x Chae Hyungwon NSFW

🖤 warnings: music as a form of intimacy(?), anonymous sexual encounter, public sex🖤

kinktober masterlist

connect with me! / masterlist

You don’t like EDM.

Or, no, it’s not that you dislike it, necessarily. You’ve just never counted the genre among your favorites. It’s unavoidable, though, as the soundtrack of choice for festivals, clubs, and TikToks alike.

And concerts, as you’re discovering tonight.

This is supposed to be a pop-rock kind of show, some band that your friend recommended, playing at a dingy little venue downtown that you frequented as a student. You were younger then, looser with the amount you drank, less concerned with the music playing and much more concerned with meeting someone cute in the crowd to take home (or, far more realistically, to just fantasize about with your friends). Bagging the lead singer for one wild night, meeting your soulmate among the sweaty throngs of moshing music fans…you’ve imagined it all, drunk and ridiculous with your friends.

But now, older and less patient and looking for a simple solo night out with good music and a reasonable number of alcoholic beverages, you’re slightly dismayed to learn that the first act you’ll have to sit through before the headlining band is a DJ.

A DJ. Not even another, lesser-known rock group. But a DJ.

It’s your own fault, you reason, for not checking the ticket listing more carefully, or scrutinizing the posters on the way in. You could have arrived later, missed the opener, and taken your time getting ready.

But you snagged a rare high-top table along the side of the open floor, which is exceptionally good luck, so maybe you’re better off having come early, after all. You’re comfortable, perched on a stool, slightly taller and far more relaxed than the milling groups of people standing around, the brave souls already crushed a few rows deep against the front barrier along the stage.

Even if you have to sit through some DJ’s lame-ass set.

Your interest is piqued, though only slightly, when the lights dim and the DJ himself walks onstage.

He’s kind of unassuming at first glance, just a tall guy in a dark hoodie and a brightly-colored jacket overtop. Even when he faces the crowd from behind his setup, he doesn’t look like much. A mop of dark hair, a small delicate face barely visible under the drooping hood of his sweatshirt.

He kind of reminds you of a turtle, if you’re being honest. The slight point to his thick (…pretty) upper lip gives him a slightly reptilian look, complete with dark tired eyes and a kind of slow precision to his movements.

He introduces himself as DJ H. ONE, which strikes you as kind of funny.

Most DJs would take the beginning of their set to plug their socials, try to hype the crowd, or do something else equally as embarrassing, but he doesn’t. No, he just gets into it, hands right at the turntables, skittering across the laptop that he carried onstage with him.

The music’s not terrible, either.

You still don’t like EDM much, though, so rather than dancing like some of the more excited people at the front of the crowd are doing, you’re just sitting there. Enjoying yourself, sure, but not exactly partying. You’ll be happier when the band comes out.

“You’re so hot!”

The call ringing up from the front row surprises you, and it seems to surprise the DJ just as much. But his bemusement passes quickly, and with a strikingly charming half-smile, he pushes the hood off and shakes out his dark hair.

He…is kind of hot, isn’t he?

It’s a small venue, and under the harsh spotlight you can clearly see how the semicircles of eyesmile stand out on his face. He’s relaxed a little bit now, it seems, as he bounces more intently to the beat that he’s manipulating, bobbing his head to the staccato bass.

The DJ’s gaze passes over the front-row crowd, the equal-opportunity party people who are getting down to his music, and then.

And then he looks at you.

He looks at you, he meets your eye, and he pauses.

You can’t figure out why, for a moment – you don’t know each other, you’ve never met, and after a quick glance downward you conclude that nothing Is noticeably wrong with your outfit – until it dawns on you.

You’re here alone, you stand out from the crowd because you’re sitting rather than standing, and you aren’t dancing. Friends have told you before that you’re capable of some intense resting bitch face, and you’ve probably been aiming it directly at the guy as you scrutinize his good looks and his musical aptitude.

He’s looking right at you, eyes unreadable even as his hands keep working the keys and knobs. He doesn’t seem offended by your lack of reaction. Rather, it seems like curiosity.

He breaks the eye contact, focus returning to the task at hand. He tilts his head to the side, telegraphing his careful consideration.

The song changes, the hard beat he’d been throwing down melting away into something smoother, more melodic, an R&B kind of sway. A few whoops of approval come up from the crowd, taking in the new atmosphere.

But the DJ simply looks back at you.

There’s a question in the shrug of his shoulders, and you’re a little self-conscious that he’s even asking.

This is better, you have to admit to yourself. The sultry slow jams are usually your pick over the loud club bangers, hence your general disinterest in EDM. But this guy is playing a game, and you can’t let him win so easily.

You cross your arms over your chest, and you fix him with a flat look. You can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face, though, as he takes in your stubborn dismissal and nods resolutely.

The music changes again, and this time it’s reggaeton.

You laugh.

Why this DJ has decided that pleasing one particular audience member is his main priority for the night, you can’t fathom. But that’s what he’s doing. It’s undoubtable now. He’s trying to get a reaction out of you, feeling out what kind of music you like.

Suddenly, all the fantasies that your younger self had conjured in this very room, the silly and impossible trysts with artists and rockstars, seem very much possible.

You’d laughed at the sudden left turn, but as the DJ smiles at you, baring small even teeth and wrinkling his nose delicately, you shake your head. If he’s looking for music that’s your style, he hasn’t found it.

His set has to be coming to an end, soon. He’s been onstage for nearly 20 minutes, somehow.

He’s still looking at you, eyes gleaming. You raise your bare wrist and tap it, as if showing him a watch face. Time’s up, dude.

The DJ gives you another nod. He grins even wider.

The reggaeton fades away, replaced with the familiar guitar-heavy opening of a song. Even so, it takes you a few bars to recognize exactly what you’re hearing.

When you put it together, you laugh again, harder. It’s a song by the band that you’re here to see that got heavy radio play a few years back, popular enough that even you, a casual fan by the loosest definition, know every word. It’s remixed, of course, but the crowd goes absolutely wild with anticipation. Smart.

The slightly smug look on the DJ’s face makes you want to be contrary for the sake of the game, though, so you shrug through your laughter. It’s a mixed message since you can’t help but sway along to the music, but that’s fine.

He hasn’t spoken for the duration of the set, but as the last chorus of the song comes around, he reaches for the microphone.

“Getting excited?”

His voice is deep, slightly nasal, and tinged with a kind of whine that makes you wonder what other tones he can take on, in other situations.

The crowd whoops back, a little half-hearted, but he grins. “I can tell.”

You’ve never encountered a person of so few words, because he doesn’t say anything else as he taps and mixes his way through the end of the track. And it ends, resounding, as the DJ pulls his hood back up and settles it carelessly over his dark shaggy hair.

“You’ve been great,” he says, leaning into the microphone as he disconnects his laptop from the rest of the system. “Catch you later.”

It’s a casual goodbye, and you’d be a little disappointed to see him go, except for the fact that he sends you another grin and a little nod toward the opposite corner of the room. Toward the backstage access door, you realize.

He can’t be serious.

Despite the daydreams you’ve made in this room over the years, despite your deep fascination with this man and his intentions, you don’t want to look overeager. You really don’t want to go running to the stage door like a teenage groupie, no matter how interesting or cute of a guy is trying to link up.

The stage crew takes away the DJ setup, and lowers the arrangement for the band. The instruments come out, and the lights cycle through a quick test.

And then the headlining band comes on, with no sign of your DJ.

Must not’ve been that serious.

You’ll enjoy the concert, anyway. Comfortable at your high-seater table, with a drink and a good view over the bouncing crowd, you settle in for the rest of the night.

About three songs into the set, there’s a hand on your shoulder. You turn around, expecting a drunk girl doing whatever it is drunk girls do but not-so-secretly hoping-

The DJ.

Smiling, standing there just behind your seat. He says something, but you can’t hear him over the roar of the band. You just regard him for a moment, his pretty face and his dark hoodie.

It would be a shame to lose this prime seat, and even more of a shame to miss the main act that you paid to see.

You stand up, carefully check that you have all your belongings, and you walk toward the exit.

He's behind you, all the way. You can hear his footsteps. But before you can make it to the outside door, there's a hand on your shoulder, slim fingers and heavy rings.

"You actually trying to dip out?" he asks.

"Did you want me to stay?"

He shrugs broad shoulders, peering at you from under his hood. "If you wanted."

It's not even a closet, but a hallway.

Backstage, mostly dark, dingy crushed velvet on the walls. An ill-kempt attempt at luxury, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke and dust.

It feels kind of nice against you, though, as your DJ crowds you between it and himself.

Hurried, is the word for it. His jeans are down just enough, your bottoms moved out of the way. Both of you still fully dressed. There's no time for formalities, no need for more intimacy than this. His attention from the stage was like foreplay, and his fingers up your thigh, between your legs, was even more.

When he buries himself in you, you swear you see stars.

"Don't you wanna tell me your name?" he asks, into your hair.

You wonder wryly if he wants a name to moan. Something to hold onto, while he loses himself in you.

You fix his hoodie on top of his fluffy hair, brush your fingers down his face.

"Ask me next time."

[ithaquasbbg]

Hi! Can I get an idv romantic match up please? I don't care if it's a survivor or hunter but I lean more for male ones.

In personality I am normally very cheerful when I am with people I feel comfortable with but I can be a little too harsh and serious when i'm not in the mood

My hobbies and likings are drawing (specially characters I find pretty), listening to music and reading, I also like musicals a lot and I love reptiles and bugs

My fashion sense is very variable, I can be the most colorful and vibrant person in town one day and the next look like i'm a vampire

I don't know what more to add so that's it, take your time! Stay safe ☆

I dress the same way! One day I dress like somebody’s grandma, then the next day I low key dress like a hoe lol

Matchup 07

I match you with this guy (best name)

Luchino - Professor/ evil reptilian

Why is he so goddamn fine??

☆○o。He seems to also he a generally positive- cheerful type of person, so I feel he’d go quite well with you for that reason

☆○o。He seems like the type to be quite good at reading people, so on days when you’re really not feeling like taking, he’d be able to figure that out quite quickly and leave you alone.

☆○o。I don’t think he’d take you being harsh or serious too badly. He’s probably used to it, especially with his profession!

☆○o。He’s probably not a very good artist, and would try to recreate your drawings himself.. they’d look horrible. He’s a scientist, not an artist. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t try.

☆○o。He’s probably indifferent to most forms of music, so he could probably deal with it if you wanted to play some

☆○o。He loves reading!! One of his favorite things to do would be holding you tight while cuddled up in bed and reading with you.

☆○o。He also loves reptiles! But… not so much bugs. He might be a little weirded out by bugs.. or try to feed them to his experiments

☆○o。He’d be amused by your fashion sense and how quickly it changes. Though he’ll compliment you on how you look in all sorts of things (with a smug smile on his face)

☆○o。In the one Twitter reply that mentioned how low cut his shirt was.. he seemed a little flustered, so maybe return the compliment every once in a while

My favorite babygurl

Alva Lorenz - Hermit

☆○o。He’s a more serious person and would be quite different from you in terms of personality, though you’d probably end up affecting him ever so slightly, catching a smile on his face from time to time

☆○o。Alva would be quick to notice your attitude changes when you’re having a bad day, and would ask about it gently.

☆○o。Don’t worry about hurting him too much if you’re too harsh, he’s probably quite used to it!

☆○o。He’s probably also good at sketching, and would like to doodle with you from time to time.

☆○o。If you look through the sketchbook he keeps his invention ideas in, you may be able to find a drawing or two of you, along with little notes about how much he adores you

☆○o。He may not work well with music, but he does tend to be the “suffer in silence” type, so he’d probably not say anything

☆○o。He may not like your insects.. or reptiles.. but he’d try to respect it. Though, you may find him grimacing at the image of a bug from time to time.

☆○o。Alva would notice how your fashion changes a lot, and he’d find it quite intriguing, asking why you change so much.

☆○o。Not to say he minds it, he doesn’t! Alva is probably more interested in it than anything, especially when it comes to how you can pull so many styles off so well.

☆○o。He probably wonders if you could pull off a jacket or two of his, should he give you one :))

[pianocat939]

✦ Unintentional Murder Part 1 ✦

Word count: 2.6K Character Info (Plz read otherwise you’ll be confused) Unintentional Murder Masterlist

Synopsis: A king almost gets suffocated by a piece of cloth in his sleep. At first, he assumes that the cloth has something against him. But it turns out it doesn’t. Now he and his brother are on a journey to find the mysterious man who pulls the strings of the puppet. What could possibly go wrong on this innocent little journey?

Introduction: *taps mic* Ok so I bring you my fanfic, Unintentional Murder! It is a crack fanfic about the four boyos altered into funky characters who all have different goals. I can't say more, as it would leave the fun out of it, but know this is for the funny.

Tw: attempted suffocation, cursed references, unfair punishment, brief mentions of trauma

Disclaimer: This is for comedic purposes. It has little to no relation to the canon show.

This fanfic is so important to me that I would really enjoy likes and reblogs. It's just too fucking funny not to love it.

On the coast of the sea lay a kingdom named "Uranium." Its waterways glimmered indigo with a shine of white from the sun. The towns and villages bustling with life and joy: prosperous, one might say.

Its name, Uranium, comes from the unique lilac glow of the metal when night falls. Tourists worldwide travel to witness the beauty, adoring the violet hue.

In the heart of the nation is the palace, where the royal family resides. The Hamato family, who've governed the society for centuries, are the main reason Uranium has been able to thrive as it does. As of now, there is a king along with his twin brother. Together, they harbour wealth and peace for Uranium, their beloved homeland.

The older twin, known as the prince, was once meant for the throne. But due to his dislike of such mundane work, he passed it on to his younger sibling instead. He spends his days experimenting with his magic, attempting to master his abilities.

The younger one of the two is an unstoppable genius; who is also king. Despite being so young, he has led the kingdom to glory in numerous ways. While he is not overseeing Uranium, he tinkers and invents technology in his lab: a hobby he loves with his entire heart.

One quiet evening in the dining room, the twins eat at opposite ends of the table. The room is silent, with only the clinks of silverware accompanying the rested minutes of quietude.

The elder twin interjects tranquillity first, "Dearest brother, would you mind sliding over the soup?"

"Ugh, can't you use your magic to do it yourself? I am quite exhausted enough." The younger one retorts, glaring at the other.

"Danielston, I am a table, remember? My magic is weaker than what it was before." He taps his four legs against the extravagant tiles, motioning to his brother about the state of his body.

Danielston snarks back, "Right. And who exactly did it to you? Oh, none other than yourself."

The table chuckles, grinning humorously. "Heed my words, brother, uranium is delicious and has many health benefits. I just seemed to eat more than what's expected."

"Well, you transformed into a table, which altered your name from Leovindus to Tableo. Certified by myself, of course."

Tableo frowns, puzzled by the statement. "What does that have to do with this conversation?"

"That you are no longer a reptilian such as I, which rules out the reason why I need to pass the soup." Danielston smirks, smugly glancing at his brother with a gleam in his eye.

Offended, Tableo kicks the grand table with one of his four legs, annoyance etched on his face. The impact shifts the food, causing some crème to land on Danielston III's coat. The turtle revolts in disgust, his hands slightly trembling in shock.

"Augh! My lovely coat! I can't believe you! Tableo, if you'll excuse me, I need to have this washed immediately!"

He stands up instantly, heading for one of the never-ending corridors of the structure. He sassily turns back at his brother, pointing at him menacingly.

"Know that I will not be handing you the soup."

He walks off, leaving the prince in solitude. Tableo smiles, staring at the floating bowl of soup hovering in his direction. "Ah...I wonder why father let you be king. Then again, I didn't want to do the job."

Later that night, Danielston slides into his bed, relaxing into the plush mattress. His eyes bore into the ceiling, not a single thought running through his otherwise calculative mind. Something was just off today, and he can't place why.

Deciding he shouldn't dwell on the matter any further, he turns to face the wall and closes his eyes, preparing his body for sleep. The faster he rids the day, the quicker this weirdness will end.

And so he drifts off into a dreamworld, carried away by exhaustion.

In the middle of the night, he feels a tightness around his neck, like a vine encircles it. He assumes it's some muscles tensing up for no reason and tries to go back to slumber.

Not much later, the sensation only grows more uncomfortable, to the point he cannot subside to sleep. He groggily opens his eyes, glancing around the room for something odd: nothing.

Until, out of nowhere, his windpipe feels constrained, painfully so. He coughs, touching his neck for the cause of the discomfort. A soft material with rips cut into its edges. He tugs at it, attempting to free himself from its grasp.

He yanks it off his throat, gripping the end tightly. He sputters, inhaling more oxygen into his lungs. Relief floods through his body, but the uneasiness still lingers.

The King holds up the Raggedy Cloth, a disgusted expression crafted onto his face. “How dare they? I will immediately find the person who attempted to suffocate me and my future reign!”

“It was I, Danielston III, who suffocated you.” A mysterious voice speaks, bouncing off the bedroom’s walls.

“What? Whoever could it be?” Danielston III questions himself, searching the vicinity for the criminal.

“Me. The cloth you now hold.”

The king looks downwards, only to see the sight of a face sewn into the cloth. It looks up at him, a devilish grin etched onto its tiny being. “Until we meet again, King of Uranium.”

Suddenly, a short turtle with mouse features barges into the room, his shoes mustard yellow and his shorts a scarlet red. “Raggedy Cloth! We must leave now!”

Due to shock, the king is unable to react in time. The mouse-turtle snatches the cloth and jumps out the window, his figure growing distant into the midnight sea.

“You shall be cursed! Cursed by my wrath and army!” The king takes out a metal staff covered in spikes around its shaft. But before he could pursue the pair, a table slides in, holding a piece of paper on its flat surface.

"Brother! Apparently, our distant cousin, Bowser, is coming to see us! We must surely attend!” Tableo's face glitters with excitement, rocking the legs of his rectangular body.

Danielston III frowns, his brows furrowed in dismay. “Tableo, we need to run after those criminals! That wretched Raggedy Cloth and his new partner, the infamous criminal Mikey Mouse, have tried to suffocate me!”

“Oh, I see…” The furniture pauses, staring up at his sibling. “Anyway, Bowser?”

“Damn you!” He hisses, holding up his hand angrily. "They've probably gotten too far away from us! It's too dark for us to pursue them...If it weren't for your idiotic Bowser announcement!" He stomps up to the window, gripping the frame in enragement.

The table sighs and stands next to his brother, staring outside. "Oh, Danielston, I assure you. They won't attempt something like that again. I'll keep you safe." His voice loses its energetic tone and is replaced by something softer, less demanding.

"Hmph! Whatever. I must sleep, for I have much to do with my absolutely ear-bleeding advisors!" Danielston whips around and heads to his mattress, making a shooing motion to his brother.

"Hm...Whatever you say, my little hermit crab of a younger brother." Right as the prince was about to walk out, he hears his brother yell at him.

"You disgust me!"

Tableo chuckles and leaves the room, letting the king succumb to a dormant state once more.

Danielston, who had gone through quite the terrifying surprise, stares up at the ceiling. Why would the rag try to kill him? He certainly hasn't upset the kingdom, has he? And not only that but how did he know his identity? He's only gone out in public three times in the last five years. And was dressed in civilian clothing every time.

He doesn't remember meeting anyone recently. Not even a few of the servants have seen his face before. He can't think of any point in time when he did somebody wrong.

Before he knows it, his thoughts are muddled together, weariness taking over his body from the earlier traumatic experience. He can't help but close his eyes, letting time flow through freely.

He wakes up in an unfamiliar place, the plush material of his bed replaced by hardwood. The sky above him is a lovely shade of indigo, a colour so rare to find in nature. He sits up and realizes he's on a boat. The water flows moderately, travelling him towards something.

He glances ahead, and his mouth gapes wide open, shocked by the bewitching sight before him. It was a gorgeous castle with a bridge of glitter falling above it. The lights shine like gold, beaming upon the land like a beacon. The word "Disney" appears in the sky, the silver words floating in the sky.

"Dis...Ney?" Danielston sounds out, wondering what it means. He obviously knows it's a dream, but the word seems eerie, almost threatening.

After some minutes, he arrives at the dock: near the castle's entrance. He cautiously steps onto the platform, watching his balance. Once he knows he's stable, he heads for the structure ahead.

He notices not a single guard or castle keeper is in sight, only himself. It is an illusion made from his mind, so he dauntlessly opens the heavy gateway of the entrance, slipping inside.

Inside, everything is grand, just like his home in Uranium. The walls are pearlescent marble, and the tiles are all finely polished: every minuscule detail is perfect. It's so alluring he could stand and observe for hours.

But there is clearly a reason why his mind manifested this illusion. So, it is only right that he investigates exactly what it is. He ascends the stairs, his shoes producing clicks that echo.

He hears a distant mutter down the corridor, indicating someone is alive within these cold walls. He approaches it slowly, careful to not let the heels of his footwear not resonate. There's a crack in the door where the noise comes from, enough for the king to see the commotion.

"You dare disobey my laws?" A dark voice accuses, striking fear in one's heart.

In the chamber, a ginormous turtle kneels before a mysterious man. The turtle's large shell blocks the view of the other's identity. Together, they seem to be in a conflict of some sort: most likely a crime.

The one masked in red pleads, "Sire, I didn't know that it was illegal. I am not of this land!"

But the man does not heed his words. "All civilians know that my Yandere Horse Fanfics are not to be read, nor touched!" His voice booms against the walls, louder than an entire orchestra.

Before the innocent one can answer, the accuser speaks once more, "As punishment, you are to bring me the shell of Danielston III, the king of Uranium."

At first, the reptilian does not answer. But out of nowhere, he breathes, "Why, why thank you! Your mercy will undoubtedly bring you good fortune!" He bows his head, showing a sign of respect.

"Who said I was merciful?"

The terrapin transforms into a piece of cloth, fluttering down on the floor gracefully. He's speechless, only gasps of horror coming from his mouth.

Danielston III widens the crack in the door, wishing to see more. But a voice makes him freeze.

"Hey."

A familiar voice.

"Hey!"

A loud voice.

"HEY!"

Danielston jolts his eyes open, caught off guard by the feral screeching. His brother stands beside his bed, an unamused expression present on his face.

"My, you took an awfully long time to awaken! Odd considering you're a light sleeper." He snarks, tapping one of his four legs against the tile.

Danielston groans and groggily lifts his upper half from the mattress, mirroring Tableo's frown. "Well, I had an odd dream. A dream about Raggedy Cloth, who allegedly wasn't originally a piece of fabric."

"Oh? What occurred, little hermit boy?"

"Shush, don't call me that. He apparently read Yandere Horse Fanfiction of a faraway royal and got punished."

Tableo folds himself and jumps up onto the bed, listening closely to his brother's words. "Is that all?"

"No. He also has to murder me and bring my shell back to the man." The king shakes his head, glancing down at his hands.

"So...What are you going to do about it?" The prince questions, lazily laying on the plush material underneath him.

For a moment Danielston ponders, an awkward pause of silence present in the room. "We're going to go on a journey to find this man. And ask why he wishes to kill me."

"WHAT! EXCUSE ME DEAR SIBLING, BUT I AM NOT MISSING MY 4-TOWN CONCERT THAT IS SCHEDULED IN FOUR DAYS!" Not even a second later, Tableo screams, jumping up and down like a kangaroo.

Danielston sassily waves his hands in the air, glaring right at his brother. "How does your 4-Town concert have more value than investigating the man who attempted to murder me?"

"They're dashing, charming, and oh their charisma is incomparable!" The table swoons, dramatically leaning back.

"Hmph. As king, I order you to assist me on my journey; with no complaints."

"Wha- The audacity! You dare try to split me from not only our meeting with our cousin Bowser but now my precious 4-Town?! You bastard!"

"Eat my jewelled toes, elder brother."

After the long argument in the morning, Tableo reluctantly joins Danielston III's trip to scout the unknown man. Their first target is the neighbouring kingdom across the sea. Together, they ride on a boat, letting the natural currents carry them to their destination.

The twins are silent, observing the waters in a loving matter. For minutes no one utters a whisper, enjoying the sound of the waves.

That is until a melody starts to play, a sad, cold one.

"It is time."

Danielston stands up, placing a hand on his chest. The music gets stronger, with more instruments joining in. Then, he joins in, using his voice as another instrument.

“I was the young boy fearful of the world.

Day and night I tinkered and dabbled at my inventions

My elder twin you run with wings but I trudge with chains.

His voice is soft compared to the louder instrumentals, a deep contrast between the timbres.

The world, how it scares me!

The world, how it kills me!

The people are on the prowl

Ready to slice my head!

The volume changes to forte, piercing the ocean's tranquility.

Now I stand, with a crown on my head.

For I am king, the people's legacy.

I run the zoo called the government.

I hate the idiots I call my advisors

I suppose they cannot do more than be greedy

The tone changes to venom, symbolizing an agonizing hatred.

The world, how it scares me!

The world, how it kills me!

The people are on the prowl

Ready to slice my head!

He repeats the verse again, articulating its importance.

Brother, dare I say, king; we are the highest of the birds

we are the depths of this ocean

Yet the civilians do not cease their cruelty

Even as we serve them platters of medicine

He makes a choking motion with his hands

The people, how it scares me!

The people, how it kills me!

The world is on the prowl

Ready to slice my head!

The instruments roll to a climax, a pounding noise bouncing across the water.

And yet

It seems we are here

On this boat

Mulling our heads over a rag

Never shall we let those criminals ruin us

Danielston points to Tableo, singing the last few lines.

And you my brother

What do you see?"

Tableo smirks, flipping the angle of his legs to face him.

"A homosexual who turned into a table~!"

——————————————————

I love this so much. I can't wait to start on the 2nd partttt.

Anyway, I apologize if it sounds a bit rushed, my brain can't organize details that well (But then again I suppose it could make it even more funnier).

I hope you enjoyed~

- Celina

[shadowedoracle]

The Dark One Doesn’t Get Sick

Summary: The Dark One doesn't get sick. Or so he claims. But since the he clearly has a terrible cold, Belle takes it upon herself to care for him and make him rest up. Cue one baffled, grouchy patient.

Rating: T

A/N: This was originally intended to be my Fluffapalooza fic for last year. It was all drafted in my notebook but I got sick and when it was only partially typed up. And since I felt terrible pretty much all the rest of 2022 it kind of got stuck in limbo ( Like so much of my work. I really do want to go back and finish my WIPs and write new stuff but damn migraines get in the ways). Anyways, I could have left publishing it until this year's Fluffapalooza but, given it was pretty much complete (on paper), that idea kind of depressed me. So tada! I finished typing up and editing a thing!

[AO3]

“I’b not sick,” Rumplestiltskin said with a mulish expression on his face. “The Dark One doesn’t get --” he blew his nose loudly into a brightly coloured handkerchief -- “sick.”

Belle rolled her eyes at him. “The evidence in front of me says otherwise. That cough’s been getting worse since yesterday and your nose is sounded more bunged up than ever.”

He waved a hand dismissively at her, “It’s nothing.” He let out a hacking cough. “It’s just a slight irritation from a dusty ancient tome of potions I was reading. Maybe if you dusted the library more, instant of lying about reading, this wouldn’t have happened.”

Belle leveled a cool glare at him that had reduced many former suitors and her father’s counselors to babbling wrecks. Rumplestiltskin held his ground but his hands started fidgeting in front of him and after a few moments he became very interested in the pattern on a tapestry on the wall beside him. Taking advantage of his distraction Belle darted forward and placed the back of her hand on his brow before her could stop her.

“And I suppose the dust and fumes gave you a raging fever too, did they?” She said, letting the full depth of her incredulity colour her voice.

Large reptilian eyes, which had dilated as soon as he’d realized she had stepped into his space, narrowed into tiny slits to glare at her. “Yes.” He snapped.

She stepped back and crossed her arms, considering the stupid stubborn, sick sorcerer in front of her. Rumple let out another series of hacking coughs and she winced at the rattling sound coming from his lungs. That did it.

“Come with me,” she said, grabbing his hand and dragging him behind her to avoid any argument.

Of course, she knew he could always use his magic to vanish, but had maybe his sickness interfering with his magic or else he’d forgotten its existence (he seemed to do that from time to time) or perhaps decided better of it. And so, after a few moments of dragging his feet, the Dark One meekly allowed himself to be led through the corridors of the Dark Castle by his maid.

“Where are we going?” He grumbled as they climbed the central staircase to the third floor.

“Your room,” she said, not bothering to look at him.

He stopped dead and, when he didn’t move again at her commanding tug, she turned her head back and frowned at him.

“W-w-why?” He rasped.

Belle barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes again. “Because you need to be tucked up in bed, not roaming around making yourself sicker.”

“And… and you plan on tucking me in?” He asked in an odd tone she couldn’t decipher. She thought she saw blush staining his golden-scaled cheeks and his pupils were wider than normal, but those could just be further symptoms of his illness.

Her own cheeks felt slightly hot. She hadn’t actually thought this plan all the way through but there was no backing out now -- anyway Rumple needed to be taken care of.

“Yes,” she said shortly. Rumple stared at her in stunned silence, but didn’t let go of her hand or protest as she began dragging him along again.

This wasn’t the first time she’d stunned the Dark One into silence. In fact, she’d done it often enough now that it no longer felt like much of an achievement. But she did still feel a sense of pride and relief that he’d stopped protesting -- for now.

When they reached Rumplestiltskin’s room she ordered the Dark Castle to light a fire. Orange flames sprang up immediately in response to her request and she thought the room would warm up quickly. Certainly, the fires in the Dark Castle seemed faster, and far more effective at heating even the draftiest of rooms, than the fires in her father’s castle had ever been. It was one of the many small bits of magic that she was very grateful for.

Rumple’s hand had gone slack in hers and she grasped his sweaty palm firmly again tugging in towards his bathing chamber.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” He squeaked, coming to a halt and wresting his hand from hers as she made to enter the small room.

She turned to face him, taking in the rattling of his breathing and the feverish sheen to his scaled skin. “Running you a steamy bath,” she replied striding into the bathing chamber.

She wasn’t sure if Rumple would follow, glancing back she saw he just stood stock still -- stiller than any human or animal she’d ever seen --  and stare at her as she filled the bath with water. She said silent thanks that he hadn’t countered her commands to the Dark Castle or magicked her to some other part of the it.

Deciding to leave him to adjust to the idea, she picked up the bottles around the side of his bath, sniffing them carefully in turn before adding a few drops of Eucalyptus oil and peppermint oil into his bath along with a few other oils she thought would help clear his nose and lungs. A nice cleansing fragrance wafted from the quickly-filling bath and large clouds of steam  spread through the small room.

She turned around, satisfied the Castle could finish the bath for her. At some point Rumplestiltskin had entered the chamber but he was still hovering a few paces from the door, looking like he was unsure what was happening. She hoped his fever wasn’t making his affecting his mind.

“Your bath’ll be ready soon,” she said moving towards him.

“I really don’t see what a bath full of fancy smelling water is supposed to do,” he said casting a suspicious look at the bath.

“The steam should help clear your nose and chest and the vaporized oils will sped up the process and have longer lasting effects. Surely you used to have such baths before you became the Dark One?” His hands fidgeted in front of him. “No,” he finally said, his eyes downcast.

She paused, wondering at his response and trying to decipher his awkward and uncomfortable body language. Myriad other questions rushed into her head that she longed to ask, but now did not seem like the time to press him.

“Well,” she said gently, hoping the soothing tone would mollify him, “it’s very nice and effective. It’s always helped me when I’ve had a cold.”

He sniffed, although whether that was in response to her words or because of his illness, she couldn’t say.

A few minutes later, the Castle finished filling the bath, “it’s ready for you,” she said, smiling at Rumple, but he made no move to come any further into the room or get ready for his bath. She sighed to herself, why do I have to do everything here? Not that this couldn’t have an upside. She hurriedly buried that thought away knowing it was dangerous territory as she walked back towards him.

She stepped into his personal space, only a handsbreadth between them, and heard his breath catch. She waited, but no cough followed. Perhaps the steam was doing him some good already.

Her heart beat quicker at the closeness of Rumple and the heat coming off him (but some of that might be his fever, she thought). Despite the warmth of him, he stood as if frozen to the spot, only the muscles in his face moving. His eyes were wide and round and he was hardly breathing, staring at her like a frightened deer unsure which way to flee.

Gathering her courage she reached out and undid the first button of his waistcoat. As she reached for the second button he suddenly came to life again; letting out a high pitched squawk that was very unbecoming of the Dark One (and that she was sure he’d deny ever making) he jumped out of her reach.

“What in blazes to you think you’re doing?” He cried, now a good few feet from her.

She leveled a steady gaze at him. “Getting you ready for your bath. You can hardly get in wearing all that,” she said waving her hand up and down, indicating the leather jacket, the richly embroidered red and gold waist coat, tight-fitting brown leather trousers -- probably best not to think too much about those right now, she admonished herself.

He was staring at her like she’d grown an extra head and the silence between them was only broken by his raspy breathing and gentle sound of the bath filling itself with water.

As she watched, she saw a range of emotions play out across Rumple’s face: there was yearning there -- a desire to be cared for she could see that. But it was warring with incredulity, reluctance and fear. It seemed to take him an age to decide what mask to wear.

“I’m quite capable of getting myself undressed,” he snarled at her.

She mentally shook her head, he could never intimidate her, for she knew he was all bark and no bite when it came to her. She crossed her arms again. “Fine. Go on then.”

He stared at her. His eyes searching hers as if looking for something although she wasn’t sure quite what.

“Turn around then.” He made one of his signature little twirls of his hand.

She did as he requested, charmed by his shyness. Although a part of her was disappointed not see him strip and stand before her naked… She shook herself mentally. You’re here to look after him because he’s sick Belle, not ogle the poor man.

She heard a splash and a groan from behind her, before he muttered, “you can turn around now.”

She turned around to see Rumple’s head visible over a mound of bubbles. He must have made those himself. Certainly none of the oils she’d added, made thick bubbles like that. But if bubbles were what he wanted, and were what made him comfortable, she didn’t mind.

She smiled at him. “Good. Now you can just stay there until I say you can get out.”

She left the bathing chamber ignoring the muttering about bossy, uppity, little maids, she knew he didn’t really mind those qualities at all. Back in his room. she got to work plumping pillows, and making sure the whole space was nice, cozy and optimally conducive to an invalid’s recovery.

When she had judged sufficient time had passed, she put her head around the bathroom door. Rumple lay in the bath his head back on the rim of the tub, his eyes closed, but the his breathing told her he was still awake. She noticed the layer of bubbles over the bath was still thick and concealing -- there was definitely some magic at play there, for sure.

“You may get out now,” she said, and Rumple’s eyes flew open to meet hers. She smiled at him and continued, “but don’t stuff yourself back into your regular clothes you should wear something soft and loose.”

She didn’t stay to hear his response but instead strode into the bed chamber and stood in readiness beside the bed. After a few minutes Rumple emerged from his bathing chamber, clad in a simple, loose-fitting, light cotton shirt and pair trousers. His wild curls were frizzier than ever, and she longed to comb through them with her fingers to see if they were as soft as they looked.

She smiled at Rumple and patted the bed, hoping her last thoughts weren’t visible on her face. “Now lie on top of the bed here.”

He gave her a suspicious look but, to her slight surprise, he complied without complaint.

“Open your shirt.”

He bolted upright and stared at her. “What?” He spluttered.

She picked up the small jar of lotion from his bedside table and raised it to his eye line for his inspection. “I need to put this on your chest. It with help you breath easier again.”

He continued to stare at her in stupefied silence. “Will you let me?” She asked, aware that this request was tiptoeing along the edge of, and perhaps further blurring, that unspoken boundary between them.

For a few more minutes he stared into her eyes, and she found herself holding her breath, hoping he could see the kindness and friendship she was offering were genuine. He must have found that (or another answer he deemed satisfactory) for without another word he carefully raised his hands to his buttons, his fingers shaking, and undid his shirt buttons one by one. She wondered why he had chosen to undo them without magic. She could never work out when he’d use it or when he wouldn’t. He loved using it and yet, at times, he seemed to need to do things himself physically, and sometimes he seemed to forget he had magic available to use at all.

As he opened his shirt, she tried hard not to stare the gleaming green-gold scaled chest he bared before her. He was slender, yet well-built, his wiry form revealing nicely toned muscles.

She wrenched her gaze away, back up to his face, and found he was gazing right right at her. She could feel her face growing hot and couldn’t meet his eyes. To give herself something else to concentrate on, she knelt on the bed beside him and rubbed lotion onto her hands.

“This might feel a feel a bit sticky and cold at first,” she said. Her hands hovering just above his exposed chest.

He sighed, but inclined his head and replied, “Do your worst.”

Her hands were trembling slightly as she lowered them to his chest. He let out a slight gasp, and she glanced up to see him staring up at her, his pupils even larger and darker than usual, and filled with an awe and adoration that made her whole body warm and her breath quicken. Although she could have stared at him like that forever, she found herself the first one to look away, afraid if she said or did the wrong thing the moment would end and he’d not let her continue to care for him. He was sick, his health was more important that this... whatever, it was that this was. She focused her attention back onto his chest and tried to think of calm, boring things and not what had been in Rumple’s eyes, nor the fact that she was touching him skin-to-skin.

After that first gasp, he remained silent (bar the odd cough and squeeze) as she applied the lotion to his chest. He held himself very still at first, his body palpably tense but gradually, under her gentle ministrations, his muscles relaxed.

The cool of the fresh lotion and her slow pace were at odds with the way her heart raced at the sight and feel of Rumplestiltskin’s bare chest. His scales added a slightly raised texture to his skin and she loved the feel of it against her palms and more than anything she wanted to see if he had those same scales all over him. Her eyes seem to glance down towards his waist almost of their own accord and she had to force herself to stare back at his chest, decidedly ignoring the tug of approval in her lower body and the pulsing of her blood telling her just how much she wanted to look.

No she told herself sternly. You are looking after the poor man because he’s sick. You are not here for your own pleasure. He doesn’t actually want you or even really care about you. He couldn’t. Why, of all the women in the world, would he want you? He certainly wouldn’t want you to look at or touch him like that. So you will not be so depraved as to enjoy his sick body for your own titillation.

When at last she had applied the lotion to his chest  and upper back, she pulled away and scrambled off the bed.

“You can close your shirt and get under the covers now,” she told him as she went into the bathing chamber to rinse off her hands.

When she emerged Rumple was tucked up in bed with the covers up to his chin. She broadly smiled at the sight. “Good. Now you just stay tucked up there for a while.”

“But what am I supposed to do?” he whined, looking somewhat bewildered.

She rolled her eyes. “Relax. Sleep. Sleep will help you heal faster you know.”

“The Dark One doesn’t sleep.”

“Ever?” She knew he was semi-nocturnal, and most spent nights at his spinning wheel or locked up in his laboratory, but she had assumed since he had a bed chamber and a bed that he must sleep at least sometimes. Unless he only keeps them for other… purposes. Her mind helpfully interjected. She dragged her thoughts away from that and tried ignore the images it provided, of what exactly he might use that bed for instead of sleep.

Rumple shrugged. “I suppose the Dark One may have been known to doze.” He paused then added, “Only very, very occasionally though.”

“Perhaps this could be one of those occasions?” She suggested.

He shrugged again. “Perhaps.”

She thought about that. She had meant to just leave him to sleep. But if sleep was such an unusual and rare occurrence and she left him alone and he couldn’t sleep… He’d just get bored and leave this bed far too soon.

“I tell you what,” she said slowly, an idea blooming in her mind. “Why don’t I read to you?”

He stared at her, and was silent just long enough she started to worry before he nodded and waved his hand at her. “I suppose that would be acceptable.” He had obviously been trying for the careless, nonchalant tone he used while making his deals but it was thoroughly undermined by a coughing fit as soon as he finished speaking.

“Stay there then. I’ll be right back.”

He rolled his eyes at her and she smiled as she dashed to her own bedroom to find a suitable book.

When she returned a few minutes later he had buried himself deeper into his covers and she smiled at him wrapped up and cozy, frizzy black hair splayed over his pillow.

A comfortable chair had appeared beside the bed and she smiled at the gesture.

“So what story are you going to regale me with?” He asked as she sat down.

She turned the book towards him. “Her Handsome Hero.” He read aloud in a scathing tone and sneered at her. “I suppose this is one of those insipid cheap romances where the ‘hero’” he said the word mockingly, “is a bland and unnaturally good -- and unnaturally good-looking -- sort of man who rides around slaying villains to impress pretty maidens.”

“No. No. This is not like that. This book is about compassion and forgiveness... the things that truly make a hero. But it doesn’t pretend those qualities are easy, and both the hero and the villain are complicated and nuanced characters not just one-dimensional stereotypes. I swear. Why don’t you give it a try and see?”

He had a stubborn and disgruntled look on his face that she recognized well. And with the mass of covers in his large bed swamping him, she was reminded very strongly of a small child pouting.

She sighed internally. She had known choosing this book was a risk. But she wanted to share this book, share her love for it, and share this part of her with him.

“Just one chapter?” She said, when the silence between them had dragged on for a few minutes. “If you hate it, I can stop.”

He remained silent and she thought for sure he was going to refuse, when finally he let own a grumbling sigh. “Fine,” he said and held up a single finger. “One chapter.”

She smiled and nodded, “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he grumbled.

“Well then, ‘Once upon a time…’” She began, settling into her narration voice. Rumple made several scoffing noises throughout the chapter, and muttered a few things she chose to ignore, but didn’t disrupt her reading.

When she reached the end of the first chapter she looked up and raised an eyebrow in askance at him.

“Fine. One more,” he muttered. “And only because I want to cheer on that obnoxious twit’s foes. They better manage to kill him.” He grumbled.

That second chapter, soon became a third, then a fourth and a fifth. By the end of the fifth chapter he voice was getting raspy and sounded almost as bad as Rumple’s, despite the glass of water he’d provided for her.

“I think that’s all I can manage today.” She said, closing the book. Rumple didn’t reply and she leaned over concerned. His eyes were closed and his chest was rising and falling in the gentle rhythm of sleep.

She smiled. Apparently the Dark One did get sick and did sleep after all. She stood up from her chair and glanced around the room, making sure Rumple had everything he needed in here for now. She’d check on him in a few hours. But she ought to give him some privacy to sleep.

As she began to make her way for the door, Rumple reached out and grabbed her hand. She jumped and turned back towards him, clearly he was not as asleep as she’d thought, though his eyes remained closed. “Stay,” he murmured.

She mentally shrugged, well if he wanted her company a little longer she didn’t mind that. She made to settle back into her chair.

Rumple shook his head. “No. In here… With me.” He gestured to the other side of the bed and she stilled, her heart racing.

An invitation to share his bed. She’d wanted it for a long time, almost since the beginning, if she was honest with herself. Of course, she’d wanted something a little different from this. She hadn’t exactly pictured keeping a sick Dark One company as the first -- and probably only -- time she’d receive an invitation to his bed.

“Please?” He said, tugging on her hand.”

She nodded. “All right.” She said and kicked off her shoes and padded around to the other side of the bed. She hadn’t been going to refuse. But the vulnerable note in his voice tugged her mind to the present circumstances and away from thinking about other kinds of  invitations to his bed.

She settled herself under the covers leaving a few hands of space between them. At first she just lay there on her back, wondering what Rumple expected of her and how she was supposed to sleep with him so close by. She had her answer to the first question, as few moments later, sleepy arms pulled her closer to him and Rumple curled up into her side, his head on her right shoulder and his right arm lying across her stomach.

She reached out and gently swept some of his curls from his face -- they were as soft as satin -- and gazed at the softness and the vulnerability in his sleeping form. Her heart expanded in her chest and her breath caught as she realized what an honor it was that Rumple was willing to share this level of vulnerability with her, how much he had truly come to trust her. Perhaps this was a deeper, more meaningful and more intimate invitation than the one she’d originally desired. She closed her eyes, listening to the soft rasps of his breathing. If this was the only night she had in Rumple’s bed, in his arms, then it was enough. It was perfect in its own way and that was -- would have to be -- enough.

***

Hours later Rumplestiltskin awoke with his head buried in something soft yet firm, that was  most definitely not did not feel like his pillow. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, and felt his eyes widen as he realized it was in fact, Belle’s bosom, still mostly encased in her blue dress and white blouse, that he’d been using as a pillow.

He was closer to Belle than he’d ever truly believed possible. She was breathing slowly and peacefully in slumber, and letting out the occasional slight snore that was unspeakably adorable.

He knew he should move away, put some space between them and place his head back on his own pillow. It would embarrass her if she awoke to find him nestled against her chest. But… he’d slept a little for the first time in ages. Much more deeply than he normally did too. It was highly unlikely he’d fall asleep again tonight. So what was the harm in lying against Belle a little longer and only moving away when she started stirring? Belle need never know.

It was depraved of him he knew, but for some reason she’d agreed to share a bed with him tonight but likely never would again. Besides, he’d never pretended to be either good or strong-willed.

He nestled back into her chest and Belle sleepily wrapped her arms around him, holding him in place. As he lay there in perfect contentment, for the first time in centuries, sleep overtook him once more. His last thought, before unconsciousness claimed him, yet again, was: I ought to get sick more often.

[duckapus]

(Follow-up from this) (now edited to get the right Program)

Worm grins wickedly as he feels the sensor flags he set up activate. It's time to properly begin Phase 1, "Garyboy, come with me. We've got a cat to catch."

The eggplant nods, standing up to follow him.

"Mira, I have a job for you as well."

She looks up from what she was doing, "Yeah, boss?"

"It's absolutely vital that you keep Antivirus distracted and away from my position until I signal you. After that, lure him here."

She smirks and starts stretching for a run, "Lead the old man around again? No problem."

As he leaves, he pauses for one last instruction, "and do make sure miss Rose doesn't distract you again. I'd prefer not to repeat my lesson from last time."

She winces and rubs her arm, which still has a dull ache from "last time." It's a good thing she wears a jacket so she won't have to look at it.

"Got it, boss."

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Not that he'd admit it, but Overseer is a bit antsy after Blotch heads out today. It'll be fine, he tries telling himself as he checks his messages again, they travel like this all the time without any problems, so what are the odds that this is the day she runs into trouble, just because there's some unrest in a universe they didn't even go to.

Eventually, he manages to go back to work, and a little while later, right on time, he gets the message and lets the relief wash over him...only to be snatched away entirely and replaced with cold fear when he reads it.

???: You might want to come pick up your cat.

He trembles with fear and rage, before tearing open a portal and making a beeline for his friend's location. A few far-too-long-seconds later he lands in a residential Program server, one designed as a dark, rainy film noir city. Quicker than anyone who may be nearby can detect, he shifts his cloak into an equally obscuring hat and trenchcoat, darkening the shade of green so it could be mistaken for grey in the city's long shadows. Inconspicuous once more, he follows the signal to an alley. There, he finds his target, a virus of unknown make and origin, their bright orange body nearly blinding against the monochrome setting even while veiled by shadow.

"Ah, a prompt response. I'm impressed."

"Where is she?"

"And right to the point, too." The virus smirks, then uses his much larger (and strangely familiar) right claw to signal to someone.

His accomplice jumps down from the roof, revealed to be, of all things, a human-sized eggplant with a face in a strange green and red outfit. For some reason, his code is extremely similar to the outdated Hydra strain of viruses, which probably explains the reptilian eyes. Most unusual are the black plungers on either side of his head, one of which is attached to a thick cord that's coiled like a serpent around-

"Blotch!" Overseer makes to attack, but-

"I'd advise against that." As the orange virus says this, the eggplant tugs on Blotch's program bracelet using some form of hand-like telekinesis, similar to a Goomba or Bob-omb.

"Now, shall we get down to business?"

His eyes narrow, not that either of them can see it.

"Excellent. First, introductions. I am Worm-yes, that Worm, the tales of my death were slightly exaggerated-and my associate here is called Garyboy. Not the most imposing title, I'm aware."

Under any other circumstances he'd be ecstatic to have found an apparently-living legend like the Worm, but right now he'd just like to get to the point. "What do you want with us?"

Worm grins, "In the long run, Power. Absolute, all-encompassing Power. But, that's a ways off. For now..." he tosses out a small diamond-shaped object, which projects a glowing blue circle onto the ground between them, "I simply need you to step into the circle."

Based on the readings he's getting from what is clearly a containment program, once he goes in there he won't be getting out under his own power. He briefly glances over at his friend, processors whirring.

"And don't get any ideas. While I'm sure normally they'd be tough enough to withstand the few seconds it would take for you to beat us and get her to safety, they appear to be a little under the weather at the moment."

He curses mentally as he takes a second look and realizes Worm's right. Clearly, Garyboy's retained the potent venom of his previous Hydra form, because that level of malware infection would be a death sentence for even some weaker programs, let alone an NPC. Until the venom wears off, the moment that bracelet is off there won't even be a Blotch to save.

With one last cold glare, he steps into the containment program.

"Good choice," he says as he opens up a portal, "now, let me show you where you'll both be staying for a while..."

[eternalegohell]

cupping your face in their hands and them telling you, “you. you are the one i love.” heehee Actor Mark beloved <3

SORRY!!! A lot of you lovely folks sent in a bunch of wonderful asks, and as soon as I was finna work on 'em ｄｅｐｒｅｓｓｉｏｎ

But uhh--- I got this one done for ya cheif!!!

Sorry in advance, it ended up as angst instead of fluff :')

Also this story kinda sorta doesn't make any fucking sense, but i had fun writing it, so I hope you have fun reading it!!!

_________________________________



Out Of Character (Actor Mark x Reader)

Summary: Actor Mark tries to persuade to join him in his endeavors, and be his loving partner.

Word Count: 1149

His arms open wide, gesturing towards the sky of the void in gandure, smiling, soaking up the attention from his imaginary spotlight.

X

“I can offer you anything you want! All the luxury and riches you could ever ask for!!!”

The Actor.

The manipulator of stories, of characters. Always keeping your gaze directed towards him at all times, stealing limelight from those he didn’t deem worthy…

“You can be the beloved hero, the protagonist of every story ever written… You, you can go down in history, adored by all… If you, my dear (y/n), would do me the honor… of being mine,” he says, his reptilian eyes emitting a yellow glow in the dark.

You reel back a bit at his proposal, the words of his offer not settling quite right with you.

“If you would do me the honor of being mine,” he says, as if, if you choose to go along with his plan, you somehow will belong to him…

It feels like a trap… 

As if he’s enticing you with worldly possessions in order to better manipulate you…

…But you won’t let yourself slip into his grasp.

“...No,” you state, simple and firm.

The silence that follows is deafening, so much so, it even causes your ears to start ringing. An agonizing crescendo of a monotonous buzz, which is finally broken, shattered by a slightly taken aback… “What…?” which echoes throughout the darkness.

“I said no,” you reiterate, standing your ground with more confidence than the last statement.

The Actor simply looked baffled, shooting puzzled glances into the void, as if there were an audience present to side with his confusion.

The glow in his eyes dim as he clears his throat and looks off to the side whilst he fiddles with the sleeve of his robe “This… is not how it was supposed to go,” he says, a twinge of awkwardness in his voice.

You deadpan, and turn around, beginning to trek in the opposite direction.

“Um— Wait- where are you going?” he questions, his confusion echoing throughout the void.

“Away from you.”

“You… do realize this is a dimension of my own design? You can’t just walk awa— wait- come back here!!!” he says, running after you, his footsteps echoing throughout the emptiness as they clash against the darkness.

“You do realize what you’ll be missing out on…? The fame…! The glitz…! The glory…!!!” he says, his enthusiasm increasing in volume with each word.

“I do…” you say, continuing along your way as the Actor follows behind you.

“Then… why don’t you join me…? You and I together…? We’d be unstoppable…!” 

“I’m sure we would be…” you say “But that’s not what I want.”

“Wh-...Well what do you want…?”

“What does it matter…?” You question “It’s not about what I want.”

The Actor’s expression twists into that of anger, clearly growing impatient with your defiance.

“God DAMMIT, (y/n) WHAT DO YOU WANT?! I can give you the WORLD! I’m TRYING to give you the world!!!” he says, his frustration quickly making its way into his words.

Agitated by his persistence, you stop in your tracks, turning around to bite back at him.

“You couldn’t offer me a world worth living in!”

The Actor’s face turns bright red as he attempts to bite back his growing frustrations. He sputters as he tries to come up with a witty retort, but each failed attempt at words just increases his anger more and more, until his words boil over into a lamenting groan before he yells, an angry growl present in his voice—

“WHY WON’T YOU LET ME DO THIS FOR YOU, CELINE?!”

Taken off guard, you reel back a bit, frowning at the man before you.

Stunned by his own words, tears begin to form in the man’s eyes as he covers his mouth.

A cracking sound is heard as tears of light rip through the void like shattering glass, before—

It all falls apart.

The void shatters, you lose your footing as you find yourself in a new location, an extravagant house whose floors shook violently as if caught in an earthquake. Quickly, you grab onto a banister as to not fall over, as the man before you is brought to his knees, finally swallowed by his own despair.

An aura of darkness surrounds him, blurring your vision as your ears ring so loudly, you feel as if they might bleed… Tears fill your eyes, and your body feels heavy with the weight of an unknown force, though it feels suffocating… It feels like denial… It feels like frustration…like desperation, like helplessness…

It feels…

Like grief…

. . .

This is… his pain…

Though you struggle, through the tears you project your voice, piercing through the darkness emanating off him and ask “WHAT DO YOU WANT, MARK?!”

The ringing peaks, as the house attempts to throw you against the adjacent wall, before suddenly— everything halts.

. . . 

“What do I want…?” he asks, his voice meek, barely breaking through the silence.

He struggles to his feet before stumbling his way towards you…

He looks at you, tears streaming down his face as he gently cups his hands around your cheek, his touch as cold as ice…

“...You… I want you… You, are the one I love…” he says… “I-...” he stammers, “I just want to feel loved again…” his voice trails off, growing softer as the anguish catches up to him once more “I-...” he chokes on his words, “I just want to feel warm…”

His legs collapse from under him as he holds you in his embrace, and he falls to his knees, dragging you down with him.

You cuss as your knees harshly slam against the hard floor.

The Actor’s eyes widen before he begins to fret over you “O- Oh god, I’m sorry—,” he says, panicked “I didn’t mean to— with the earthquake and the— I-I can fix it, I promise!! Just please—” he says, desperately grasping onto your hand with both of his, his eyes squeezed shut in a saddened frenzy “Let me do this… let me make you happy…”

His hands tremble, as does the rest of his body, waiting anxiously for your response…

Having felt the weight of the turmoil swirling inside of him… you can now see the sincerity, and quite frankly, desperation behind his offer to make you the happiest person alive…

He genuinely wants to… not only to better your life, but to prove to himself that… he can make somebody happy.

…You lean down, and gently plant a kiss upon his forehead.

He opens his eyes in shock, blush coating his cheeks as his snake-like tongue flicks out of mouth in surprise.

“Get me an ice pack, and we’ll talk about it…”

“R-Right…!” he says, perking up and running to get you an ice pack.

You smile to yourself as you realize…

The villainous Actor finally broke character.

[katyspersonal]

a 0 for izzy thank you very much

Dear GOD! I am better off not knowing how long ago I received this ask and I just happened to forget about it..

Alright, so asks are from this ( x ) meme, and number 0 stands for everything from the asks list, so this will be a long one and hiding under cut! But first I will note that past some point in her story, Izzy uses she/her and he/him interchangeably, so pronouns bouncing might occur. Also here is my recent ref of her face:

1) What would their social media page/activity be like

Hmmm, it is a complicated one, because Izzy is a rebel! The way she'd protest the nonsense in the internet might vary from exposing the scientifical/logical fallacy from the pages of people like Laurence (hello Simon's colleague!) to refusing to engage with the social media altogether since it is all only illusion of a struggle that accomplishes anything at all. Perhaps transition from the former to the latter as time goes by. However, while she's in the internet, she'd certainly troll the 'leaders' by asking rather provocative questions. "Hey, Ludwig, if your god is so benevolent, how comes they condone violence and g3nocide? ;)"

2) What animal they remind me of

She is a multitude, but my initial impression of her was a hyena for some reason... Maybe because back then she was solid in my head as a very dominant female beast. By now, her connection with the beasthood leads her to interchange with female and male (but not the same way as Marika and Radagon; in Izzy's case, that's explicitly the same person and the same name, just with biological sex slider being moved back and forth).

My recent impression of Izzy was the noodle dragon; not a real animal, of course, but what I ended up making his beast form appear like. That's as reptilian as Izzy gets though; otherwise he lived his life way more in tune of being canine/feline, with rare insect features.

3) My thoughts on their design/aesthetic alone

Bwahaha! Jokes on you, Izzy doesn't have canon appearance! xD But my first impression, in my head, was that of Izzy being an effeminate person with two braids held by silly ribbons, despite a large build that could rival Gratia's. Only that back then, I imagined her/him as a blonde, but I decided pale 'brown' hair worked better. I later learned that Izzy's name MUCH more likely is a variant of George (Jiří) that I kept checking over ( x ) ( x ) and realised is very palatable. Everything finally fell into place later; a person raised as a man and even given male name, that can now finally get in touch with the femininity she was denied! Something I feel slightly connected with, because I feel like my first stepdad corrupted my gender identity by wishing for a son and consistently trying to replace my hobbies and clothes with masculine ones (that I was very receptive of as a curious kid).

Either way, I do like how Izzy looks for now in my head. As a woman, she is very muscular and strong but with 'silly' feminine attributes like ribbons and flowers that feel almost absurd. As a man though... I don't even know, this is the only vibe I PHYSICALLY can think of:

4) Physical headcanons (sleeping habits, favourite food, all that)

Izzy tends to feel her body's needs very well and naturally gets craving for whatever elements she is lacking. Even before beasthood shenanigans, she had developed habit of listening to her body and trusting the (seemingly) irrational sensations that she doesn't remember having ever failed her. She learned to not think of it too hard. But, her diet had a LOT of berries, fruit, mushrooms and vegetables before falling for beasthood naturally shifted her cravings to more carnivorous ones. Izzy is a garbage cook though, eating almost everything as raw as it can be. That led her to having mushroom poisoning multiple times in her life, but she never ate any that was life-threatening; simply ones way better cooked.

Izzy is an extreme kind of a night owl - naturally leans towards going to bed in early morning and waking up during early evening. Naturally, social life didn't welcome it very well, so she always had problem with being irritable during the day and struggling to fall asleep during the night. Nights of the Hunt are quite natural and convenient for her.

The scars on her face have all existed before any funny hunting business and were earned by her upon wrestling with wild beasts. It is a person that would try to fight a bear with her bare hands, and there is no guarantee that the bear would win! But, she does have multiple traumas (mostly clawmarks) on her body. Her body is also rather muscular from a lot of power-lifting and fighting training. Also, she was informed that "eating onions will strengthen your teeth" and has been eating them regularly for as long as she could remember, and otherwise taking good care of her teeth, so they are all very strong and white.

5) Social headcanons (what do they think of their friends/allies if they have any, what are they looking for in relationship, what people tend to think about them...)

Izzy has a fault of pulling the 'overfamiliar rudeness' on the people she barely knows, that guaranteed her making some people uncomfortable from the very start. She has a very poor comprehension of social cues and boundaries, doesn't help that she is rather rude. Not because she tries to be mean, but rather because she is blunt and honest! And, well, what will your honesty be when most people around you are idiots? Right, it will be letting them know that they are idiots...

She is, however, opposite of my Archibald; whereas he is polite and distant with people but secretly thinks lowly of them, Izzy is rude and disrespectful with people but tends to be neutral towards them or even likes them. She doesn't seem why they'd get hostile or upset over rude by honest remarks - it is okay to be stupid! It is okay to cringe and fail! It is okay to be selfish! These are human things, and Izzy doesn't see anything wrong with exposing how much humans suck in general and have petty fights over it. Moreover, she invites anyone to insult and expose her back, she would not hold grudges as long as it is fair and accurate.

Izzy has no idea what to gain from relationship or what she wants of it, really. She experienced attraction to someone more than once, but she just doesn't know what to DO with it other than simply care about this person above everyone else, protect them above everyone else and cuddle+kiss them more than anyone else. She wondered whether something was wrong with her for not seeing difference between 'very strong and intimate friendship' and 'romance' that apparently everyone else gets; doesn't help that she experiences sexual attraction to pretty much everyone she starts to trust. She thinks that maybe 'normal' relationship is not for her and her true essence lays within strong and intimate bonds with 'allies' instead.

However, Izzy is the most attracted to the 'contrast' for the lack of better term. She most likes either strong people that could kick her ass, or small and frail people she'd have to protect.

On a more complicated note, Izzy does avoid having strong and lasting friendship bonds, because he is the type to show his love and devotion by tearing one's enemy apart in the most gory way possible. But what if this 'enemy' is someone who simply needs another perspective and guidance towards what they missed? Devotion blinds Izzy's reasoning, which is inconvenient because he is as much a smart person as he is a strong one; so, he tries to keep his friendships a little shallow.

Izzy loves picking up every 'psychological test' she is offered, even if the tester doesn't feel very qualified. Whether it is an offering to draw something and be interpreted according to it, or some charlatan offering to read her soul with the cards, Izzy liked things like this. It comes from deep yearning for people who try to understand her, as opposed to turning her into what they WANT her to be... Even if it might be a fake action.

6) Psychological headcanons (tastes, fears, talents, regrets, how they deal with anger, just anything that comes to mind on the topic)

Many people would expect Izzy to be somewhat stupid and irrational because of how she behaves in society and her temperament, but that can't be further from truth! Izzy is quite open-minded, curious, flexible and even immune to manipulation. Even something she holds the most sacred and dear - if it is objectively not valid, she is willing to know the ugly truth about it! This mindset led her to be an easy target for the influence of Fauna the Great One beast - aside of devotion to her loved ones, Izzy holds nothing sacred or unquestionable, so to be the first to question the importance of humanity itself was only natural. I think there is a great courage in being willing to question even the most solid dogmas, though.

Izzy does like dark green color and flower/butterflies aesthetic, which he later found weird, considering his spiritual connection to Fauna. He believes all along it was a bittersweet reminder that was brought by the fate itself - like how even wolves like Fauna howl at the moon. He could write a beautiful poetry about it.

Izzy is scared of insanity, although many people in his surrounding would've considered it ironic in their disdain to his eventual beliefs. But people like Logarius or Alfred would make him feel cold in fear and disbelief. Although committing to beasthood as the new future of the mortals in the end, Izzy is still acting rational in his own animalistic way; but it is people who act without reason, without even very primordial logic who make him feel threatened. He will always try to identify motivation and reasoning of the person, even as a beast, and if he fails to do so, fear will settle in his heart.

When Izzy was able to break ties with her small family and joined the hunters, she enjoyed it quite a lot. She felt as though she could finally be herself - unapologetically, freely. She had a period of admiring cute things like ribbons, frills, beads, glitter and flowers. However, her violent and hostile upbringing took over, and she was ready to be one of the most eager hunters very soon. Until... well, you know. She feels regretful about having never been able to tell her father what exactly she thought of him, however! The bastard died just when she built enough of a character, and she will carry unsaid grudges within herself for god knows how long!

It is hard to predict Izzy's behaviour under the weight of anger, since his anger can be both cold and wicked, or hot and dangerous. But it will be a dangerous, merciless ordeal in either way, so if someone incurred his wrath, they better ask forgiveness. Izzy is, however, extremely forgiving and understanding, since for him humans doing horrible actions is a natural result of their nature. It is not 'being bad' that is bad; it is 'being bad' in the WRONG way that is bad!

7) Ship(s) with them that I like or at least consider

Izzy x Afflicted Beggar: I think Izzy would be the first (and maybe the only) person to not fear Garlan's strange inherited 'second nature'. Encourage him as a special person, even. That Garlan would've appreciated a lot, having to fear himself his whole life and wondering whether he should off himself for the sake of everyone. I like to imagine Izzy training him to control his transformation into a beast and back and 'eating rationally', and allowing him to fight her with teeth and claws when beastly urges get too much. Garlan would've never been able to live down the emptiness in his heart if they really had something intimate going and then Izzy just disappeared, he'd feel like he'd lost his one true shot of real love forever.

Izzy x Ludwig: They are enemies, as tomb prospecting hunters that discovered the kinship with the antagonistic Great Ones who could never get along and their mutual hostility rules the world. They hate each other, but at the same time wish each other to "come to their senses" and join another's side. I sometimes have mental image of them crying together and yelling at each other - Izzy saying she doesn't want to see him turning into a mindless marionette of the corrupt Moon Presence, and Ludwig saying he doesn't want to see him becoming an abomination to what humanity entails. They are both unaware that their respective Great Ones are both puppeteers convincing them that the opposing side is the 'evil' one, but I think it'd be really bittersweet if they could see each other among all this madness. Never had a place in the canon, though.

Izzy x Valtr: Doomed ship, do not take as real ship in any way. Based on Izzy having "joined" the League because she realised that Valtr knows some secret about the very nature of humanity that she doesn't. But, during her stay, she might have tried to flirt with him.

Izzy x Maria: Izzy of course started off as an Old Hunter of Gehrman's type, not as a hunter of the type that started with Ludwig and the Healing Church. So, back then, Izzy, Gratia and Maria were the only hunters of the type. But Izzy would surprisingly develop much more affection towards Maria than towards some other Old Hunter, fascinated by her complexity, combination of strength and wits, combination of masculinity and femininity. It is both seeing a kindred spirit in Maria and still wanting to get to know what is unique about her that would fascinate Izzy. To think of it, I guess Izzy's attraction had place in 'official' timeline; but Maria was opposing beasthood like a normal hunter is supposed to, so it was doomed.

8) Made-up connections with other characters that weren't in the canon (friends, enemies, whatever)

Ludwig - Like I said, they ended up being marionettes of the antagonistic Great Ones. Well... Izzy is less so of a marionette; Fauna suggests freedom. But that still brought her to care about her beloathed. Izzy thinks he is a complete idiot, but not an idiot by his fault, and hopes to one day see him admitting corrupt and through and through unfair governance of the Moon Presence. She just sees he is not a bad man in the slightest, and simply got tempted by the goals and ideals that can never be fulfilled.

Laurence - Now, THIS man she doesn't pity or root for the same way as Ludwig. Izzy can grasp that Laurence is aware what game he is playing and what God he is making deals with. Therefore, she feels anger and disdain towards him, ready to hold him accountable for everything. Izzy thinks he is a goddamn idiot that never could listen for a good advice and can only be FORCED to act right.... well, she is right, I guess...

Micolash - Izzy positively doesn't understand the guy... Well, until he can see that Micolash, likewise, has a link with a Great One who knows things way beyond normal human realm and what's sacred or cursed for them. Izzy finds strange solidarity with him despite having a slight respectful fear towards him (seeing what he does with animals was enough). Although 'where there is no sea, is dwelling of beasts', Kos and Fauna are nonetheless the deities antagonistic to the order of the Moon Presence, even if in different ways. Izzy does value Micolash as his own person though, he thinks Micolash is a powerful and independent spirit that will shape history likewise... It is just that rather than feeling true allyship, they are connected only on the virtue of 'enemy of my enemy is my friend'. Micolash doesn't feel the same, though - he has a great disdain towards "beastly idiocy". However, Izzy he finds a great aid; a great guardian, even, so he is willing to tolerate him.

Archibald - Ah, yeeeeah, this one. It is not canon, despite how obvious connection of the two people studying Darkbeasts should be xD I just think they could find a lot in common, and even both meet in Yahar'gul as fellow people denying Healing Church's restrictions. Who would spit on every "sacred" rule just to continue the one thing TRULY sacred for them - the research. Archibald finds Izzy's ways a bit extreme though, believing that beasthood is a useful thing to conquer, rather than the answer for humanity's troubles. As result, they have debates often, and Izzy at times accuses him of being a 'coward' that is not willing to abandon the subtle comfort of civilisation for the true knowledge. They are still of very respectable opinion of each other nonetheless, and are true friends.

Fauna - At some point, Izzy was nearly banished to never return from the dungeons for her revolutionary opinions and questions. Healing Church feared the apostates, and feared that they'd sabotage their progress before they could find a way to make everything work. But she found her way in Loran ruins, and had heart and mind open enough to comprehend the message of freedom and true light Fauna was trying to deliver. Long slaughtered by the hero that first forged Holy Moonlight Sword, Fauna lived on only in spirit, and found comfort in being able to continue his ideas through Izzy. She was the only one able to hear his calling in a while and not reject it. Izzy respects Fauna greatly, and can see clearly that out of the two antagonistic Great Ones, not he was the bad guy; he was willing to bring humanity the light of bolt and fire that lets them seek their own way, as opposed to the light of stars and moon, that had its own way planned for every mortal. Fauna, however, sees himself as the 'true' God and as the one worthy to be above Flora and beyond; therefore, trusting him is a risky activity as well. Besides, Fauna suggests the law of survival of the fittest; although one has a freedom, they simply become food for the stronger ones if they are not strong enough to hold this freedom. Izzy simply happens to see more reasoning in his plans for humanity, though.

Henryk, Garlan and Zacharia - Garlan is my name for Afflicted Beggar, yeah! Zacharia is the father of both Henryk and Garlan, the NPC in Bloodborne that has 'Night of celebration!' voice line. Like I said before, Izzy would be the one to accept Garlan for who he is and to help him to train his transformation and impulses. But, she would also strike a great friendship with Zacharia! Henryk, though... Yeah, he always resented how tainted his family was, and thanked every god he believed in that he came out 'clean' from Loran lineage. But he hated himself for not being able to protect Valtr from her sneaky plan, and probably hates himself for it even in death.

Valtr - Izzy noticed he knew something that she didn't, watching him extracting something she could not see from the bodies of his fallen foes and laughing maniacally. So, she used all her actor/actress skills to act on his good side, so she was able to learn his unique rune and see his idea of humans' evil. It was a giant breakthrough for her comprehending the very nature of humanity, and instead of killing Vermin, Izzy started to study it. Albeit limited perspective, but Valtr's vision was good enough, and Izzy forever developed centipede tendrils and legs.

Yamamura - They only met when Izzy completed his transformation into a beast. The storm-bringing beast Izzy, who was a noodle dragon eager to spread will of Fauna across the world via his spark magic. Upon complete transformation, his goal was the faraway land. Izzy managed to place the seed of confusion and detraction in Yamamura's land, but he still killed many people and destroyed many villages. That Yamamura could not forgive, so he chased him for a long while, having harmed him bad enough to not be able to fly that fast and that long. Izzy still had his hunter hat attached to one of his horns; and when Yamamura finally killed him, offered Valtr's Whirligig Saw for it, he got Izzy's former hunter hat as a trophy. However, there was some work to be done, to remove the traces of former blue ribbon, and to patch up the hole from the horn. In the end, the two never knew each other beyond just a beast and just a future hunter, but Izzy did speak his final words, saying it was too late and Yamamura's village was to inevitably witness the truth...

9) Headcanons about their past

Like I said, Izzy was raised 'like a man', in a pretty violent and unforgiving environment. In a strange way, it was an act of protection, in a heavily sexist environment where a woman was an incubator to birth more warriors at least, a useless waste of resources to be killed at worst. Izzy grew in the mindset that 'one gender is more equal than another', that further influenced her life decisions, but in a different way; she wished to abolish such inequality.

Izzy was quickly driven to the Old Hunters faction, who encouraged: they did not care about one's preferences or upbringing. For them, one being able to kill was enough, regardless of the way they choose. This kind of autonomy was all Izzy really wanted - a place to be free at as herself, as long as she could KILL. That Izzy already was good at... However, she didn't quite buy how Hunters and Healing Church cooperated, and how many things they prohibited. She was asking too many questions, trying too weird tools... As result, she was sentenced to no less but to be forcibly held in the dungeons until she'd 'understand her behaviour'. When upon her return, they offered her peace, Izzy's answer was simple - "When you leave someone in the darkness, be careful to ensure they never learn to SEE in it!"

Izzy hit several violent conflicts with Laurence (basically the fire wizard) and Ludwig (basically the Moon paladin), over proposing the will of a certain deity. But, she brought the seed of the doubt upon enough of people. Some of them still search all over Loran in order to find the same enlightenment she found, such as Joseph.

She learned her father was dead through third parties, and was very devastated. She had a word with him, about falling for the corrupted and unfair order of his society and culture, about forcing her to grow in a certain way, about being a 'coward'. She always felt and will feel bitter towards him for not being as strong as her; because her style is to curse the whole world but stand for what is right... And her father was... well, not that. She considered asking Micolash for his necromancer magic multiple times, to bring her father back and have a word with him, too.

10) Content about them I'd like to see more of

LITERALLY ANYTHING. I honestly do not understand how came this character was only worthy of consideration in like... what? 2017-2018? And then forgotten into nothingness? Like... You all have a beast mom/dad/gender-neutral, and you just gloss over it? Feels weird for me xD We should collectively bring back the tradition of making a fully fleshed-out character out of Bloodborne's namedrop!

But yeah, that's it for this character! Thank you for asking, though! Blegh... I honestly have a design for Izzy's armour and stages as a character in my head, I really wish I could share them right here. But... yeah, alas, drawing a full on fanart will take some time.