#i do think he gives off more dog energy

[wolfram-but-art]

Narysuj kotka inżyniera z uszami i ogonkiem, ale ogon to jego kabel :3

I szpieg bawiący się z nim wędka dla kotów 💥😭❤

"Draw kitty engineer with ears and a tail, but the tail is his cord :3 and Spy playing with him with a cat toy 💥😭❤"

hehehe sure thing!!!

you guys seem to enjoy the tail, that's good because i do to. weirdify my blorbos.

[cherrygarden]

,

[rememberwren]

A Girl (Not Mine) || 1

Ghost is a little obsessed with Soap and a lot obsessed with Soap's girlfriend--you.

About this: ghoap/fem!reader, suspension of disbelief regarding anything military related is actually necessary for enjoyment, canon-typical trauma for Simon, intrusive thoughts, slut shaming, voyeurism, fingering, accidentally seeing nudes not meant for you, poor writing unless you squint, try squinting. 4k

-

“I’m so glad I got a girl to think of, 

Even though she isn’t mine.”

-

The first time Johnny mentions you, the 141 is fresh from a month-long leave.

Ghost has a love-hate relationship with time spent off duty. He’d like to enjoy it—to do fuck all, to hike through Clayton Vale twice in a day if it suits him, to drink tea for every meal. But all leave does is remind him of the glaring emptiness in his life, the one he usually fills with violence. So he spent the month climbing up the walls and crawling out of his skin, waiting to be called back like a dog brought to heel. 

Here was his comeuppance for craving something to fucking do instead of relaxing the way Price had told him to do. Now they were on their way to San Lorenzo in Ecuador dealing with Ghost’s least favorite flavor of criminal: drug cartels. 

It’s too close to Mexico. Too close to that which he would forget gladly if it didn’t come with the loss of so many valuable skill sets. He’s crawling out of his skin for a whole new reason, watching the water fly by beneath them, deep in memories. 

Ghost takes all those feelings, fears, remembrances and swallows them whole. Lets them sink to a sour, dark place in his belly. He sits tense on the helo, still except for the rise and fall of his chest, his rifle a familiar weight across his knees. Sometimes he has to shut his eyes, swallowing against the rising nausea. 

He only has half an ear on Garrick and Johnny’s conversation beside him, but it is all he needs to follow along. 

“—lass of my own now,” Johnny is saying around a laugh, his accent thick enough to chafe at Ghost’s skin in a way he doesn’t want to examine, one that leaves him feeling raw but not necessarily hurt. “So no more picking up the barflies back in Hereford.”

“She making an honest man out of you, Tav?” 

“Aye, you could say that.” Johnny sounds proud of the fact. It all is so far from anything Simon has experienced in his life that he feels no distant stirring of empathy, not even a muted sense of familiarity in the words. Honest men do not exist. 

Not to mention, Simon’s never had a woman (willingly) and he never will. 

“You love her?” Garrick asks, earnestly interested to hear the answer. Ghost couldn’t care less.

“Aye. There’s something special about her.” 

“What, she’s cool with anal?”

Johnny crows with laughter, and now Ghost does feel something: annoyance, cloying, creeping up his spine like a spider in a web headed for the wiggling maggot of his brain. 

“Will you two ever shut up?” he snaps. “Not a moment’s fucking peace since we boarded.”

“Sorry LT,” Johnny says, sounding genuinely apologetic. Ghost cuts his eyes toward the other man, assessing for honesty. Johnny’s face is too expressive: brows lifted, eyes wide and earnest, mouth tipped into a tiny grimace, like the thought of irritating Ghost gives him real pain. Between the two of them, Ghost can’t help but think that it’s Johnny who needs a mask if he wants to survive in the world. 

Ghost doesn’t have the energy for this. He goes back to watching the scenery pass by. They are over trees now: thick lush jungle, the scent of which he associates with pain—plenty of which was his own. Plenty of which he caused to others. 

“What about you, LT?” Johnny asks, calling out over the sound of the helicopter blades. “Do you have a woman back home?”

Ghost lets his head turn, slow and dangerous. Johnny’s audacity never fails to surprise him. “What do you think, Johnny?”

“Honestly?” 

“Go on, then.”

“You look like if yeh’ve got a woman, she’s probably locked in yer basement.” 

(right where she’d belong.)

Garrick slaps Johnny’s thigh, his face mottled with panic. He hisses under his breath, something like, There are faster ways to die, Tav! Less painful ways, too, Ghost thinks. He fixes Johnny with a dead stare. The silence stretches, growing long and thin and dangerous, like the blade of a knife, until Johnny looks away. 

“Think less about my private life, Sergeant,” he warns him. 

“Not often you tell me to think less, LT.” 

Ghost just grunts, finished with the conversation, returning his unseeing eyes to the trees and slipping back into his own memories. 

-

That should be—well, not the end of it. He expects Johnny to become insufferable about it; that’s just the other man’s way. Still, Ghost had never expected to see you. 

He’s doing paperwork in the rec room, too stifled by the tiny, enclosed space of his office to remain there. Paperwork and debriefing are always his least favorite parts of an op. Give him a gun with which to kill and he will gladly kill; give him a pen with which to write and he spends half the time thinking about burying it in his own eye. Garrick and Johnny are there nearby fucking around on their phones having finished with their easy portion of the work ages ago. 

A phone is what Johnny thrusts beneath Ghost’s nose. It takes all of his mental fortitude not to flinch away from the unexpected action (or, more likely, not to rip Johnny’s arm off and beat him half to death with it). His eyes flicker down to the screen on instinct and—there you are. 

You have one eye squinted shut, your hand up to create a visor against the overbearing sun. The picture shows you from the bust upwards, and Simon sees it for approximately one full second before he grips Johnny’s wrist in a brutal hold and forces the hand and the phone away. 

It’s already too late. He’s committed you to memory. The way your hair sits, its color in the blistering sun. The curve of your lips (fuckable, he thinks against his will) as you give Johnny behind the camera an exasperated smile. The arch of your nose (images now—fingers pinching noses shut, forcing mouths further down his cock just to watch them choke and struggle)—

“Get that out of my face,” he grits out through his teeth. His thoughts won’t stop, not now that the floodgates have been opened, and it makes him feel like a dog backed into a corner, frightened-violence rising up in the back of his throat like bile. 

—the smooth line of your throat (and his hands around it, choking the light from your eyes just to fuck you when you’re soft and pliable and he doesn’t have to listen to you crying and begging)—shut UP!—

“It’s just my girl, sir,” Johnny laughs, his own eyes flickering back down to your image on the phone, like they are drawn to you. Like it is hard to look away. Ghost doesn’t have that problem—he has some  discipline left. “And it’s not as if she’s naked.” 

Ghost grips the pen in his hand so tightly that the plastic shell cracks. He’s barely keeping it together, sick and afraid and horrified and angry that Johnny has done this to him—has done this to his own girl—

His voice is rough when he croaks out: “What makes you think I care to see her, Sergeant?” 

“‘S it wrong to share the most important person in my life with the other most important people in my life?” Johnny says, eyes too guileless to be taken seriously. 

“Share less,” he snaps. 

“Been saying that to me an awful lot lately, sir.” 

“A good Sergeant would take my words to heart.” 

“A good lieutenant would know a futile lesson when it’s biting him in the arse.”

Ghost’s eyes narrow. “Careful, Johnny. As much as I hate paperwork, I’d write you up—gladly.” 

Johnny gapes. “What for?”

Ghost grins without mirth, mask stretching around his features. Even grinning cruelly like this, his face feels unused to any expression that is adjacent to happiness. He swears darkly: “I’ll find a reason.”

It would send anyone else running. Even Garrick looks fearful, though fascinated: the same look a man wears when he’s watching a car crash in progress. But if sense were dynamite, Johnny wouldn’t have enough to blow his nose. Instead, he just flops down on the couch close enough to flutter the pages in Ghost’s lap. Close enough for their knees to brush. 

“Jesus, you’re a tadger today,” Johnny says quietly, boot knocking against Ghost’s, a touch he feels all the way up his leg. “Shove off some of that paperwork on us. What’s the use of being a lieutenant if you can’t lord it over your sergeants?”

“I’m sorry, us?” Garrick asks. 

“I don’t shirk my responsibilities, Johnny,” Ghost says coldly, gathering his papers. His elbow brushes against Johnny’s ribs, the firm, burning warmth of the other man’s body. He jerks away. He’ll take the stifling seclusion of his office, that makeshift coffin, before he subjects himself to any more of this. “You’d do well to follow my example.”

-

Ghost resolutely does not think of you. Not during quiet lazy moments on base, not during the frustration of training recruits, especially not during the eerie calm of missions. You do not cross his mind. 

His dreams are another thing altogether. 

There are the dreams where he hurts and the dreams where he is hurting, and he doesn’t know which are worse. He only knows that they are made worse by your strange presence: your body bent and being broken in by others; you, bent and being broken in by him. He wakes in cold sweats, jaw aching from gritting his teeth in his sleep. 

He hates himself for this last place where he cannot execute control: his subconscious. 

-

“Mail?” Johnny asks cheerfully at the sight of Garrick seated on the bench outside the DFAC, a stack of papers and letters laying on his lap. 

Johnny is sweaty, gray t-shirt clinging to his toned body as he (for once) keeps a companionable silence at Ghost’s side. They have been training recruits all day—work which Ghost considers far beneath his pay grade, but which he can’t refuse when ops are so slow to arrive and when he is so eager (desperate) to keep busy. Ghost lets himself sit heavily on the bench a safe distance away from Garrick, sweat cooling on his own body. 

He’s not ready to be alone yet. 

He’s allowed to do that. To want company. Of all the people on base, Garrick and Johnny (and Price) might be the most tolerable of the lot of them. During the rare moments when the pitiful piece of humanity left inside him craves companionship, this is the least painful method to mainline it. 

He ignores the lack of letters for him. There is no mail for Ghost—there never is. 

Garrick passes Johnny no less than four envelopes. Johnny’s soft smile as he flips through them speaks volumes. Ghost can guess who they’re from: his mother likely, who writes as often as she can. One of his various sisters, surely. Take your pick.  Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Johnny flip through the letters and settle on one in particular, thicker than the others, tearing it open and tugging the letter out. 

The pictures slip from the folded piece of paper and fall to the ground. 

Johnny dives to grab them, but all it does is bring Garrick’s attention to them more. Even Ghost’s interest is piqued, his dark eyes giving up pretending to watch the recruits limp back to their barracks to shower before dinner and following Johnny’s hasty movements instead, watching the hot flush that crawls up the back of his Sergeant’s neck. 

“What are those?” Garrick asks. 

“No’ a thing.” 

Garrick lights up. He practically tosses his letter to the side. “She sent you pictures?” 

“Possibly,” Johnny says smuggly, the images—old fashioned Polaroids, a nice touch—pressed to his chest. His eyes narrow at the expression on Garrick’s face. “Don’t even think about it, Gaz—!”

Garrick pounces. The two begin grappling, both of their faces split into wide grins. Johnny can only defend himself with one arm, his other protectively clutching the photographs to his bosom. They take each other to the ground and Ghost watches, half interested and half irritated, wondering who will win. 

The pictures go flying—and fate’s invisible bitch of a hand causes them to land at Ghost’s feet. Garrick and Johnny freeze.

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, the same way he knows that he’s going to. Ignoring their renewed struggles on the ground as they fight to untangle themselves and stand, he leans down and reaches for the photographs.

The white of the Polaroid’s edges contrast nicely with his dark gloves as he gathers the pictures together like a deck of scattered cards. 

“LT—“

They’re relatively tame. Perhaps you knew the high risk of sending them. In one you are kneeling on a bed amongst a sea of mussed, white sheets, wearing nothing but a t-shirt that you have tugged down between your parted thighs to offer yourself some modesty. It is painful to flip to the next one, but pain calls to Ghost, lures him in. In another you’re wearing some strappy lingerie but still covered artfully by the sheets, both hands covering your eyes, a grin on your face like you are mid laugh. Did Johnny take these photos of you himself? Did a stranger? A friend? Another shows your side profile, back arched, topless, every inch of you curved and poised. 

You’re (a filthy little slut) so fucking pretty. 

“Give ‘em back, LT, please,” Johnny asks gently, like he expects Ghost to tear them to shreds. Or confiscate them. 

Ghost drops the photographs to the bench, wishing he could scrub the images of you from his mind. He shouldn’t have picked them up in the first place. It’s adding fuel to the fire of his broken brain, and he knows that he will pay for it dearly. 

Johnny is talking. “—shy, she’d just die to know you saw.”

“She’ll only know if you tell her, Johnny,” Ghost reminds him. His mouth feels numb, his brain the quiet granted by white noise, a conglomerate of screams. 

Johnny frowns. “Suppose so. You alright?” 

“Since Ghost saw—“ 

“No, Gaz.” 

Ghost watches the two of them enter the building. 

His hand burns, where he has palmed the picture of you topless. He stands and slips the Polaroid into his back pocket. It’s on the tip of his tongue to call out for Johnny and give him the picture back—he could find some excuse, and Johnny would believe him, he knows it—but he doesn’t. He makes for his room, feeling sick with himself. He isn’t hungry. Not for food. 

-

Ghost is compromised. 

The thought replays in his mind over and over again as he drives to Price’s house in Solihull. You and Johnny have crawled beneath his skin and infected him, dug your way into his DNA and are affecting everything from his decision making capabilities to his dreams. He knows that going anywhere where you both will be is a mistake, but it’s one he can’t seem to help hurdling himself toward at high speed. 

Nothing will happen, he tells himself, knuckles white against the steering wheel. He only does what he allows himself to do—no more. The others will be there at least, Garrick and Price and Johnny himself. Physical barriers between him and you. Human meat shields, if necessary. Ghost wouldn’t dare to lay a finger on you. (But who would stop him if he tried? Who could?) You are safe, he tells himself. 

He is the last to arrive, dragging his feet up the concrete steps to the two story brick historical home that Price owns. He lets himself in the way that Price told him to and can tell by the eerie silence of the house that everyone is already outside enjoying the well-landscaped yard. Already he sees the evidence of you: a purse (go through it) laid neatly on the dining room table. He sets his keys beside it but does not touch it. 

Ghost doesn’t bother trying to delay the inevitable. Every part of him wants to run, but that’s all he’s ever wanted his whole life. He’s used to it by now, used to being forced to walk toward the thing which terrified him. He squares his shoulders and slides open the patio door, slipping back out into the muggy heat of the afternoon, face mask in place, hood up.  

The landscaping is one of the best features of Price’s house. The privacy fence is tall and appealing to Ghost’s seclusive nature, the lawn neatly clipped. There is a hedgerow running along the southern edge of the fence that is meticulously maintained. Flower beds lined with bricks rest along the house full of geraniums and phlox. The patio is smooth stone with an inlaid fire pit that would be crackling if the weather were any milder. An iron-wrought table sits nearby surrounded by chairs, and seated there are Garrick, Johnny, and Price. 

You are over by the flowers, kneeling in the soft grass, picking phlox just a few shades darker than the sundress you’re wearing, the one that skims your soft thighs. Ghost’s eyes roam over you and away all before your head even turns at the sound of the door opening. 

“LT,” Johnny calls, lighting up. “You made it!” 

“Didn’t think you’d show, Lieutenant,” Garrick says with a smile. 

“As if he’s got something better to be doing than spending time with us,” Johnny crows. 

“Jesus, will you two leave the man alone? Wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already regretting coming,” Price says. Ghost inclines his head, grateful for the backup. 

He hears your approach, the soft sound of your flats against the patio stone. You are small (weak) compared to him, craning your head up to look in his eyes. He hates the dark part of his brain that calls you easy prey as he watches you twist the phlox stems between anxious fingers. 

“You must be Simon—” Johnny shakes his head a little, subtle, visible only out of the corner of Ghost’s eye. “—ah—Ghost? I mean—” 

“I don’t care what you call me,” he admits.

“Ghost,” you settle where it is nice and safe. “It’s nice to meet you. John talks about you all the time.”

“Likewise,” Ghost says flatly, hoping you will not mistake it for a compliment. 

Garrick snorts. “Never shuts up about you is more likely.”

There aren’t enough chairs for everyone, so you sit on Johnny’s lap, legs crossed demurely, skirt riding up around your upper thighs. He wonders about the softness of your skin, wonders if his calloused touch would hurt you or if you’re used to Johnny’s by now. He could make it hurt. The thought doesn’t come with any zing of pleasure, just the cold apathy of fact. Has Johnny ever tried that? Has he ever—

Ghost’s gloved hand clenches into a fist, curling around the iron armrest of the chair. He takes a measured breath and holds it until his lungs ache. Those thoughts aren’t his own. They come from the dark part that Roba seeded inside him, that part with creeping vines too deep to root out. That part with thorns. 

He could hurt you, the same way he could hurt anyone, he tells himself. But he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want to. 

He does only what he allows himself to do. No more. No less. 

You and Johnny stand, heading into the house to retrieve a round of drinks for everyone. Ghost watches Johnny’s hand dip low on your back to the curve of your ass as he guides you through the open door, shutting it behind you. 

“Are you alright, Simon?” Price asks around a cigar. “I know meeting new people isn’t exactly in your repertoire.”

“Don’t mother me.”

“Don’t have to be your mother to care about you.”

“Garrick—get lost,” Ghost barks. 

The iron chair legs screech against the stone of the patio as Garrick stands hastily. “Had the same thought, sir. Hedges look lovely this time of year.”

When Garrick is properly out of earshot, pretending to find amusement in the neat hedgerows along the fence line, Ghost says: “I shouldn’t have come. I’m… I— can’t be left alone with her.” 

“With—? Soap’s gal?”

Ghost grits his teeth in shame and nods. 

“Do you know her?” 

Ghost shakes his head in the negative, but it’s not necessarily true. He knows a thousand women just like her, soft and unexpecting. The betrayal always cuts deeper than his cock could reach (estoy preso, somos lo mismo, por favor).

He stands, chair legs dragging against the stone. “This was a mistake. I need to leave.” 

“If you say so,” says Price, knowing better than to argue. “Go around the side. You won’t even have to see them.” 

“My keys are inside. I’ll be quick.” 

“Take care of yourself, Simon,” says Price, his eyes dark and lips downturned as he watches Ghost stalk to the patio door and slip inside. 

-

He braces himself to see you and Johnny in the kitchen, but when the door slides open near-silent, neither of you are anywhere to be seen. Like a fool, he considers himself lucky. Quiet as his namesake, Ghost goes to the table and picks up his keys, palming them. 

That’s when he hears it. The unmistakable muted slap of flesh on flesh. 

(Go look.)

He shouldn’t. He knows he shouldn’t, but that is his modus operandi these days: failing himself, doing what he isn’t meant to, seeing what is not for his eyes. His feet carry him silently to the door, which is cracked open just wide enough for him to see through into the room. It is a guest bedroom judging by the bland decor, the queen sized bed. Johnny has you sprawled on it, your sundress hitched up around your waist, his fingers buried to the final knuckle inside your cunt. Ghost can hear the way it squelches from all the way outside the door, knows that you must be dripping down Johnny’s wrist. 

“Keep quiet, love,” Johnny pants, one hand over your mouth (he’s not doing it right) to muffle the whines and groans trying to slip past your lips. “Needy little thing, aren’t yeh? Squirming in my lap, making my cock hard right there in front of my Captain, in front of my Lieutenant—“

You whine something back, but it is lost into his palm. 

“Don’t have time to get my cock in you,” Johnny sighs, twisting his fingers inside you, hooking them to press against that tender spot past your pubic bone that has your knees knocking together. He shifts his palm down to grip your neck, your panting breaths filling the room. “But you can bet this dress is coming off as soon as we’re home, do y’hear me?”

“Yessir,” you whisper, and it has Ghost’s cock throbbing. 

This is not for him. He thinks about Johnny’s words from months ago: that you are shy. There’s no chance you would ever want to be seen like this by him. Reaching out, he grips the doorknob and quietly tugs the door closed, til the sound of Johnny’s palm slapping against your clit is muffled behind the wood. 

He takes his keys and is gone before you ever know he was there. 

-

Johnny texts him later that night: 

Why’d you leave early, you numpty? We wanted more time with you. 

Ghost doesn’t respond. He’s too busy spiraling in his own flat, losing control every few minutes and slipping back into that place of pain and blood and dirt. 

An hour later, Johnny ends up adding, My girl wants me to say she was glad she got to meet you. Only Jesus knows why! Ghost definitely doesn’t respond to that. But he doesn’t delete the messages either.

[ashasdiary]

Pretty Nails

Pairing: Choso Kamo x fem!reader Synopsis: Choso finds that he loves when you get your nails done, especially when they’re his favourite colour.  CW: established relationship, smut — voyeurism, masturbation, fingering, hand job, mutual masturbation  WC: 1.4k A/N: I got a new set and that inspired this, enjoy <3

It’s not often that you get your nails done. On occasions and once in a while, you’ll embrace your femininity and brave the energy of the nail salon to get a pretty set. 

Your boyfriend, Choso, had not yet seen you have your nails done in the few short months you’d been with him, and you were unaware of just how much he would fucking love them on you. 

You’d opted to get them done in the morning so you could spend the rest of the day with Choso. You arrive back to his place in the late morning, two cups of fresh squeezed juice in hand. 

“I’m home, Cho! I got us some juice, too…” As you toe off your shoes by the door, he rounds the corner with a small grin. 

“Hi,” he greets you with a gentle peck to your forehead. “I made you breakfast since you didn’t eat before you left.”  

You give him a puppy dog look, pouting your bottom lip, “Cho…you didn’t have to do that, I would’ve waited and had lunch with you soon anyway…”

You both walk through the hallway and into the kitchen where you set down the cups of juice that you had. You gesture to them, “Try it, I think you’ll like the combination.”

It’s the flash of blood red on your hands when you’re gesturing that makes his head snap up in concern because for a moment he thought you’d hurt yourself somewhere and were bleeding. 

You stop when you see his concerned gaze, “What’s wrong?”

His face relaxes as he realises that it’s not a cut or blood, but rather, your new nails. He lets out a low chuckle, stepping in front of you and taking your hands in his to admire them. 

“Oh! Yeah…look at them, aren’t they pretty?” You hold both hands out and wiggle your fingers as he inspects them. The deep red colour, the shape, the cleanness of it…it was very sexy. He didn’t expect to find it this hot.  

“They really are,” he breathes out, caressing your fingers gently with his thumbs. Choso didn’t have a hand fetish — was that even a thing? — but god, your hands looked so beautiful with these nails. They were perfect. 

“I’m glad you like them. I picked this shade just for you,” you admit bashfully and he grins. 

“That’s…really sweet,” he kisses your fingers and grabs the cup of juice, taking a sip before he sets the plate of breakfast in front of you, “so’s this juice. Now, eat.”

You sit and eat and he stands on the opposite side of the counter, sipping on the juice as he watches you. He’s captivated by the elegance of your hands while you’re using the cutlery. 

He finds it quite interesting how a simple thing like getting coloured nails can elevate everything. 

You finish your late breakfast — brunch, really — and clear the counter of the random things that were on there. You eye him and notice him watching you, looking at your nails specifically. 

“You really like them, don’t you?” You ask and he hums. 

“More than I thought I would,” he nods.

You gaze at him for a beat and smirk, an idea coming to you. “Come with me,” you take his hand and lead him into his bedroom where you pull off your top and your bottoms, crawling onto the bed. 

He wets his lips, feeling his blood rushing south at your forwardness. You sit back against the plush pillows and cup your breasts, playing with them and teasing your nipples. “Come sit, Cho,” you invite him and he does so, sitting cross legged in front of you. 

You slide your hands down to your hips where you hook your thumbs into the waistband of your panties and slowly drag them down, making sure to showcase your nails for him. 

He’s breathing slowly, watching you intently with big, dark eyes. 

“Take off your clothes for me,” you request, and he obliges, pulling off his shirt, sitting opposite you.

You pull your underwear off and toss it to the side, “Bottoms too.”

He fucking loves when you’re bossy with him and take the reins like so. His cock grows harder with each of your teasing movements; you spread your legs gradually, and he’s unhurried as he steps off the bed briefly to take off his pants, his eyes never leaving you. 

The sight of your pretty pussy on display makes his dick twitch with excitement, but it’s when you start to play with yourself, those pretty nails being front and centre— oh, he could cum right then and there. 

“Fuck…” he sighs, hand wrapping around his cock without a thought. 

You slide your fingers through your folds, spreading the slick that had gathered, circling your clit a few times with a breathy sigh of his name. 

Your eyes flutter closed as you gently dip your fingers into your entrance, biting your lip. Choso strokes himself in tandem with the slow and steady pace you’d set, and as he watches your middle fingers disappear into your tight cunt, he has to grip his cock to control himself so that he doesn’t cum too fast. 

He can’t pry his eyes off of you, he’s transfixed on the way you’re playing with yourself so sensually, drawing your fingers out and back in again, pumping them leisurely, your fingers and pretty nails shining with your slick.

“O-oh…Cho…” you let out a little moan and you open your eyes to see his boring into yours. 

He’s stroking himself a little faster and you watch him while he watches you. Your wetness seeps out around your fingers and you roll your hips against your hand with a soft whine. 

“Let me, pretty,” he kneels forward and sits directly in front of you. You sit up, slipping your fingers out of you and you bite your lip when he takes your hand and sucks your fingers clean with a deep, guttural groan. He brings his fingers to your folds, humming in contentment as he coats them in your juices and dips them into you. 

At the same time, you wrap your hand around his big cock and pump him in your fist, mewling when you feel him curl his fingers inside you. 

“Did you like that?” He husks and you moan in response, trying to focus on your ministrations on him rather than his on you. You look up at him, wanton, as you stroke him a little harder, a little faster, thumb teasing his slit.

His breath shudders as he looks down at your perfect, pretty hand wrapped around his veiny cock, and he can’t help but jut his hips up into your hand because fuck, the view. 

You’re both getting close now, and he leans in to connect your lips in a bruising kiss while he fucks you with his fingers. He alternates between curling them and straightening them, and he presses the pad of his thumb onto your swollen, throbbing clit and rubs it furiously, eager to send you over the edge. 

“Cum on my fingers, sweetness,” he murmurs to your lips, letting out a low groan shortly after. You rock your hips up against his hand, your release imminent and closing in on you. 

You go to bossily tell him no, but your words are lost on you as a loud moan takes their place, your orgasm washing over your body, making you tense up and your walls clench around his fingers, “Ah— fuck, Cho…!”

You grip his cock, the movement of your hand stuttering as you try to regain control in the midst of your high. He grunts, wrapping his hand around yours and guiding you to jerk him off. You pant as you feel his cock throb and then he’s cumming, his hot load spurting out over your joined hands. 

He curses, groaning your name as you both watch him cum. 

You pull him on top of you and into a deep, open mouthed kiss. He laps his tongue against yours, sighing contently before he breaks away and rolls onto his back. 

“Did you even drink your juice before?” He asks, eyes hooded as he lays back against the pillows with you. 

“I got something better,” you grin and shift over, dipping your head and licking up the spillage of cum over your hand, tongue running over the tip of his dick and licking him clean. 

“Touché. Protein, I guess,” he snorts. 

Do not copy or translate my work. © ashasdiary, all rights reserved.

Divider by cafekitsune

[onismdaydream]

no no i see the vision - nanami teaching yuji patience… discipline. yuuji who’s so eager and excited and nanami just reigns him in, its unspoken but nanami is in charge and when his voice cuts through the moans and whimpers as yuuji gets carried away…..

anon i am kissing u omg thank u...

this is so messy but my brain just kept going ! so um ramble under the cut :3

yeah exactly like. the first time yuji meets you, he absolutely falls in love. doesn't even realize it, he just becomes obsessed with you. you just look so cute and perfect.. soft little dog ears and that cute little tail that always wags so fast... you're so affectionate too, licking and kissing yuji as soon as nanami introduces him to you. because of course, if your owner trusts yuji, then he must be a good person.

i think nanami knows he has to go away for a longer mission, knows that he can't leave you alone for that long, so he asks yuji to do him a favor, to take care of his puppy. not only is yuji eager to please his mentor (i thought i told you not to call me that.), but hes always been curious to spend more time with you, so he easily agrees and finds himself packing his stuff to stay with you. (nanami is not letting his sweet puppy stay with yuji in his own apartment - he's seen how yuji lives)

and because you're so precious to nanami, he takes the time to show yuji how exactly to take care of you - what you are going to expect from the pink haired sorcerer. when you eat and what you like to eat, how to help you bathe and get dressed and how you like your hair brushed, anything to make sure your schedule doesn't get messed up. your owner might spoil you a bit, but can you blame him? (i think nanami just wants to take care of someone, so he does spoil and baby you a bit, but you don't complain one bit)

yuji listens intently to everything nanami says, wanting to earn your trust and prove himself to his mentor even more. he blushes when nanami mentions bathing, though the older man says that you should be able to do it on your own, sometimes you still ask for help - something your owner could never refuse.

the puppy-sitting for lack of a better word, goes relatively smoothly. yuji gives nanami updates for when he can check his phone and on the night before your owner comes home, you video call him. nanami's face instantly relaxes as you come on screen, grinning from ear to ear. you tell him how much you love yuji (not as much as you love nanami of course), hugging his arm and pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek, and you ask if yuji can visit more.

and nanami, never able to say no when you look at him with those big eyes and pouty lips, allows yuji to spend more time with you. it works out because nanami sometimes doesn't have the energy after long work days to give you the attention you deserve and ask for. so yuji steps in. yuji has a bit more free time and a lot more energy to play with you and take you out around the city.

but then, your heat hits you when nanami is at work. he asked yuji to check on you and tell you that he'll be home an hour or so late. yuji finds you in nanami's room, hips frantically humping his pillow as you whine and cry. he immediately calls nanami and tells him what he saw (apologizing because he feels guilty, especially because he might've stared longer than he should've..), but instead of getting berated like yuji believed he would, nanami asks him if he could comfort you in some way. just until nanami could get home and properly take care of you.

thats how you ended up grinding your drippy cunt on yuji's thigh, his cock straining against his shorts as he tries desperately to not lose control. nanami said he could do anything that you asked him to (within reason) but yuji still felt guilty, felt like he was taking advantage of you. you whine and pant, drool falling from your mouth as you get off for the nth time, though it's still not enough. you're about to try begging yuji to fuck you again when nanami comes home, your ears instantly perking up as you hear the lock jingle, though you don't run towards him like yuji expected. no, you keep grinding your hot core on him.

and nanami doesn't stop you either. he asks you how you feel, big hands gentle on your overheated face as you cry out for more, tears springing in your eyes. yuji feels entirely out of place, feels like he's intruding, but you bury your face in his neck and plead for him to help you. "p-please, need to be fucked, yuji, please."

you sound so pretty, how could either of them deny you? so nanami instructs yuji on exactly what you like, his fist around his thick cock as he watches the pink haired sorcerer slide himself into you, his eyes fluttering shut at the warmth surrounding his length. yuji wants to move fast, needs to move fast with the way you're squeezing him, but nanami's stern voice makes him savor it. telling him to go slower, to make sure that you really feel everything yuji's giving you. and yuji always listens to nanami (well, as much as he can..), so he does. he slows his hips, full and lazy thrusts that make each inch feel even longer, each drag against your spongy spot even more intense. nanami tells yuji to spit on his hand and rub your clit, so yuji spits and rubs, keen eyes watching your expressions to find the right movement.

the way your pussy tightens around him when you cum makes him grit his teeth, a hiss slipping through as he tries to not bust his load. but god, you feel so good. you look so pretty, too. it feels like an eternity before your walls relax, letting him slip out. he's done this before, always pulls out and strokes his cock to finish, it's what's expected of him. but nanami's voice stops him once again.

"did i tell you to stop?"

[avtrbee]

the prince [2]

✢summary: what happens when your husband brings home a son that is not yours?

✢tags: arranged marriage gojo satoru x reader, reader is a clan kid, she’s v traditional, obvious cat and jon snow references

✢tw: implications of cheating, mentioned abuse, misogyny ig, fanfic gojo, ooc gojo

✢ a/n: here's part 2! i'd like to emphasize that depsite this being a gojo x reader fic, the main realationships i'll be focusing on are y/n and the kids gojo brings home lmao. also im raw dogging the lore as we go so if there are any inconsistencies, please lmk. as always, have fun and lmk what you think!

i don’t do taglists.

part one ✢ masterlist

If it were up to you, you would have shut the gates of the Gojo estate as soon as the child entered the grounds, but your husband had given him the the maids so quickly that you’re sure they have spread the word around already. You could hear the rumors in your head. Gojo Satoru has brought home a child out of wedlock. Gojo Y/N is barren. Gojo Satoru has a mistress.

You expected Gojo to be frantic, stumbling over his words in explanation as to why he has a son- it was his son, there was no doubt about that- reassuring you about his vows remain unbroken, or whatever else but silence. You are silent too as you watch the child get scurried away by the estate staff to scrub the dirt off his face and to get a change of clothes.

Even as he is being escorted away from you, his cursed energy did not fade. You feel it like how everyone feels Gojo’s, but more raw and untamed. Whoever this child is, it is Gojo Satoru reborn again. 

Silence. Silence is what took the Gojo estate into a chokehold as the maids finish bathing the child and then put him in a spare bedroom a good distance away from yours. The maids must think you resent him. 

Satoru pretends like everything is the same as if the boy had been there since the beginning. During the first night, you watch with a blank face as the cake you've baked for him is eaten by the child. Neither the boy nor Satoru expresses their gratitude towards you. You doubt they even know you baked it.

To his credit, Satoru had treated the child better than you had expected. He is blossoming into fatherhood, you realize and you feel the rage and anger burn in your stomach.

He pats the boy's head and messes his hair, before pointing to his own messy mane exclaiming, "See? We match!"

Satoru had tried to include you in conversations with the boy, even daring to seat him on his right at meals. Satoru would blab after seeing the child gobble mochi. "Mochi is Y/N's favorite too!" He turns to look at you with a bright smile. "Right, Y/N?"

You want to point out that the boy had gobbled everything served to him, but you just give a brief nod.

At night, you sleep like a log- rigid, straight, and quiet. Satoru, on the other hand, remains comfortable, snoozing the day's exhaustion behind him.

Tonight will be the same as it has been for the past few weeks. You stare at yourself in the mirror of your vanity, wondering if your reflection is the perfect example of a foolish woman. How stupid of you to think he was different.

There was nothing but quiet as you prepare yourself to sleep, brushing your hair quietly. You hear the door creak but you do not turn and greet him with a smile like you used to.

“I expected you to be more emotional about this,” came Satoru's words beside you. Me too, you want to reply but held your mouth shut.

You had expected yourself to scream, and let your anger flow through your voice. You wanted to cry until your tears were dry and there wasn't any left. Neither you nor Satoru would be surprised if you use your technique against him in a fit of fury, and if you truly knew your husband, you know he'd take your anger like it was penance. You want to be the fire that burns him badly. But you did none of those.

You are as cold as their blue eyes. You are quiet.

You continue to brush your hair.

"Do you want me to get rid of him?" offers Satoru. "Just say the word, and I will."

You blink in surprise. You meet his eyes in the mirror. Satoru looks nonchalant in his posture with his hands in his pockets. But the fact that his glasses were nowhere to be seen tells you he is not joking.

Your ears recall the promise he made months ago. My wife, my equal. A promise to try, to try to be happy to spite everyone who was determined to make your lives miserable. 

The sudden exhaustion hit you, your shoulders slumping from your previous postures. You lean back, letting your nape rest on the back of the chair. You stare at the ceiling, your head forbidding you to forget how the child looked like. White hair. Blue eyes. You hear Satoru sigh somewhere near you. You hear his footsteps come. From your peripheral, you see his figure beside you. A feather-like hesitant hand touches your shoulder. “I was not unfaithful to you.”

Satoru moves to kneel in front of your sitting figure. He reaches out to your head, and touches his forehead against yours. You find yourself looking up at his eyes, the same shade of eyes that he shares with the child. His hands cradle your face, desperate for you to believe him. “Please. Please, Y/N.”

You remain silent. 

“You’re the only one I have left, Y/N, please.” He begs. There are tears threatening to spill down to his pretty face, and you find some sick satisfaction in them.

That is not true. Your husband has his clan, his estate servants, his high school friends, and his teachers. It is you that has no one but him. By your culture’s traditions, you do not belong to your clan anymore. You know that some elders have begun to doubt their choice in choosing you as the wife of Gojo Satoru with the obvious lack of children, but with the sudden appearance of Gojo-sama’s bastard child, they might annul your marriage by force- or, god forbid, cast you aside for another, more fertile woman.

You do not wish to share your thoughts, but your husband grips your head so desperately. You have made a god beg.

“I know.” You say. The child may be young, but he was old enough to walk and talk small phrases on his own. He must be at least two years old. The child is older than your marriage.

His shoulders immediately drop in relief before quickly detangling himself from you and wrapping his arms around your waist. He slides his head to hide in your neck and like instinct, you welcome him wrapping your hands around his waist.

"Where would you leave him?" You manage to ask, still not believing his offer.

"The cabin," he says. You can see the cracks on your husband now. You spot his hand making a fist inside his pockets, like it pains him to speak. “The one by Nagasaki, remember? I’ll send a maid and give him money every month. We can send him right now. The maids will not say anything outside the estate, not if I threaten to chop their tongues off. We can send him off with a caretaker to a cabin somewhere and leave him there. I- I can visit him a few times a year- just to make sure he’s fine.”

You blink. You did not expect Satoru to offer that. You let the fantasy linger in your head. You imagine the boy’s life so far- abandoned by his mother and unknown by his father. Children do not understand things the way older people do, so it is up to the adults to help and explain certain things. But he has not had an adult in his life before. Would you be happy if you were left alone in the cabin in the middle of the woods with no one but a caretaker for company? Better yet- will the caretaker even stay to care for him without anyone around?

That sounds incredibly lonely, you realize. The premise sounds all too familiar to you- an empty house with no one but servants. But this boy will only get one.

He needs people to protect him, but you are unsure if you’d like to. Your instincts tell you to agree, get rid of the boy before he becomes more of a threat.

“Satoru,” you say slowly, thinking of your next words carefully. “He is just child. He is no danger to me.”

You hold your breath, suprised to hear the words out of your mouth. From your lap, Satoru holds your gaze- piercing eyes trying to read your mind. If he caught your lie he does not show it.

"Are you sure?"

No. "Yes."

-

Hiroki. Satoru had names him Gojo Hiroki.

He spends most of his days inside the estate surrounded by maids or inside his room playing with the toys you off-handedly ordered the day after he arrived. The maids gush about him already, the older ones excitedly murmuring how the little lord acts so much like your husband as a child. You would be a fool not to agree.

Hiroki runs barefoot through the estate, tracking mud on precious tatami floors before a servant finally catches him. He likes people, likes the maids and the servants, and thus has migrated to the kitchen a few weeks after his arrival like he was addicted to places were people are the most. He draws. He draws so much it’s almost ridiculous. You could have a library full of childish scribbles.

Like your husband, he devours his dessert the best before any dish. He eats mochi, ice cream, cookies and whatever sweets there are on the table like it was his last meal. You recall one of the maids gasp as a drop of cream lands on your cheek when he slammed his fork in his cake. 

Satoru is free in his affection for the boy, unexpectedly flourishing in fatherhood. He remains firm in his belief that children should be children and makes an effort to see Hiroki out. Satoru becomes known to sneak the child away from the estate to parks, to mini-vacations you begrudgingly join after Satoru’s incessant pestering. And of course- school. Hiroki made history once again when Satoru announced his decision to enroll Hiroki in a totally normal, public Japanese preschool.

You realize that Satoru was meant to be a father. And one good one at that. It brings you comfort that any children that he is at least good to his son after he confessed his plan to be a teacher after graduation.

Tokyo’s jujutsu highschool would be blessed with his presence, thought one of Satoru’s female seniors would disagree.

“Yo, Y/N-chan,” came a voice.

You twist your body over to the source of the voice, and your face lights up at the sight of a familiar face. “Getou-san!”

If Satoru's presence is an overwhelming force, making everyone and everything bow to him as if he is god, Getou is a dark, uneasy, slinking feeling. His cat-like features morph into a happy expression with a polite smile on his lips.

“Is there a mission today?” You ask as Getou comes nearer. Satoru would try his best to keep any of his classmates away from his estate, but there is nothing he can hide from Getou and Shoko. "Can I come?"

After you had let slip that you wanted to become a licensed sorcerer, Satoru had made it a habit to sneak you into some missions with Getou. You had fretted about the technical legalities and questioned the safety of the public when an inexperienced sorcerer like you enter the battlefield but Satoru merely shrugged and simply gestured to his best friend. We're the strongest!

Getou leans his shoulder on the wall. "Nope, not this one Y/N."

“I see,” you say, failing to hide your disappointment. Sometimes you wonder why you enjoy the missions so much. Was it the thrill of doing something you never would? Perhaps it was the freedom of it all, unleashing your power to poor curses who quiver beneath your feet?

Your ears perked at a familiar high pitched laugh, and your eyes immediately lock to the window where Hiroki soon runs across. He has dried soil on his feet. His pale hair is slicked back with sweat and it glistens against the sun like snow.

A maid forces a laugh in panic as she tries to catch him with his shoes on one hand.

Away from him. That’s why you enjoy it.

Getou follows your line of sight. “How is he?”

You glare at him. “How would I know?”

Everyone knows that Hiroki is a taboo topic if it’s within your earshot, lest they want the you in a foul mood. But Getou does not shy away from his question and only raises an eyebrow, calling your bluff.

“You’re telling me you do not know your own household?”

“The garden is his place,” you sigh., and admitting it felt like defeat. “He likes the grass on his feet and likes big spaces. He gets angsty when a room is too small.”

“Mmhm,” Getou agrees. “Did you know Satoru plans to enroll him in a daycare?”

Your eyes widen in horror. “In a- what?” You shriek. “He has a dozen of servants here willing to serve him-! Does he even realize the risk he’s putting the boy in? Assassins, curses, cursed users…” you trail off, remembering your own childhood. It was strange to be surrounded by servants but feeling so alone at the same time. “I see.” A daycare meant potential friends, friends that you never got to have. “Does…does the boy like it at least?”

“Me?” Getou barks out a surprised laugh. “Shouldn’t you know that?”

You glare at him. Getou meets your gaze unapologetically, almost as if he was challenging you. Finally, he sighs. “Have you ever talked to him at least?”

You roll your eyes. Your sharp tone echoes around the room. “And why would I do that? He is no concern to me.”

"He needs you."

"He does not need me," you snap, suddenly impatient for Satoru to come out of wherever he’s hiding so Getou and him can go. “He will resent me when he’s older, I know it.”

You have seen this same scene over and over again. Children and the wife of the husband do not get along. Both suffer at the existence of the other. This is the fate that Satoru had subjected you to. This is the fate you have set upon yourself when you refused to send him away. You wonder if your kindness will cost you one day.

“Well,” Getou shrugged nonchalantly. “You haven’t given him any reason to like you either.”

You opened your mouth to retort, only to be interrupted by Satoru.

“Getouu,” he whined, comically trudging towards his best friend with a hunched back. “Why are you so early?”

You see Getou open his mouth to reply, but you are lost in your head. You watch Getou ignore Satoru’s childish gimmicks, already dragging him out of the room and towards the door. You feel Satoru kiss your cheek before waving goodbye, but your head was in a daze mindlessly repeating Getou’s words. You feel shiver creep down your spine before shifting your gaze towards the garden where Hiroki’s presence was last.

-

thank you so much for reading guys! i’d love to hear all criticisms and suggestions for this universe <33 please lmk through comments :>

here’s my masterlist

[ellecdc]

I don’t know their ship name! Do they have a ship name? Anywayyy, I was thinking long and hard about this, I want it to be 🤌🏻

So I was thinking, Remus x James x reader, possibly hyper Jamie and reader, and Remus is chasing after them

or maybe the most beautiful hurt/comfort (because who wants straight angst?) where James is upset because he feels like he’s too much sometimes (even though he’s my perfect baby Angel) and it’s just reader and Remus comforting him

(Fem!reader if that’s ok) (also reader should have a cat named Birdie, is it because I want Birdie content? Yes. Do I live laugh love Birdie? Also yes.)

kisses 😘

okay, I love you, thank you for this request. New rule: NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO HURT OUR SWEET SWEET JAMIES FEELINGS EVER AGAIN 😭😭😭😭😭😭 also I couldn't figure out how to incorporate Birdie but I have another request about a reader with a cat so you'll be able to see her there ;)

poly!moonchaser x fem!reader who is in Slytherin

CW: James cries and it's horrible and Marlene should be sent to Azkaban for this.

James was feeling pretty good about Gryffindor’s odds this year for the House Cup. He’d been working his team a little harder than usual, but he was certain the extra effort would pay off this weekend in their game against Ravenclaw. He wasn’t on the quidditch pitch to make friends; he was there to win.

Off the pitch, however?

Off the pitch he loved his friends.

Which was why he’d told everyone to hit the showers whilst he cleaned up the pitch for Madame Hooch.

After James had stored the last of the brooms and quidditch balls in the equipment locker, he began to head past the Beasts classroom for the castle.

He saw Marlene leaning against one of the posts of the building, and James began making his way over to catch up with her but thought better of it once he saw Dorcas Meadows sitting on a table in front of her. He smiled to himself at the thought of his friend’s happiness and took the path on the opposite side of the building in order to give them some privacy.

“Potter’s not working you lot too hard, is he? You’re actually making Slytherin sweat this year.” Dorcas taunted, earning her a chuckle from her girlfriend.

“Ha ha.” Marlene deadpanned before she let out a sigh. “He’s working us like dogs. I know he loves quidditch, but Godric.”

James knew he was pretty competitive, but he had a job to do as the coach, and like Dorcas said – it was paying off.

“He can be a lot.” Dorcas assuaged.

Marlene scoffed dramatically. “Sirius is a lot; James is too much. Honestly, I don’t know how Remus and Y/N keep up with him; he’s exhausting.”

James’ ears filled with cotton as his steps faltered and his heart sunk.

Is this really how his friends thought of him; was he exhausting? Too much?

James knew he could be a lot sometimes; a lot of energy, a lot of fun, a lot of love, a lot of mischief, a lot of noise...

But was he too much?

He loved you and Remus more than anything; he never knew it was possible to love two people so much.

Remus: the moon to his sun, his safe space, his level head, the cool side of his pillow.

And you: his sweet girl, his biggest supporter, his confidante, the quiet in the chaos.

And what was he, then? What was James?

He was loud, he was chaos, he was constant.

Maybe he was too much...

He’d spent five years with his sights set in the wrong direction before he realized he had everything he could ever want in the two of you, and by some fucking miracle, he’d managed to snag the two most wonderful people in all of Hogwarts, perhaps all of the UK; nay, the world.

Was he losing the two of you? Was he slowly pushing you guys away? Exhausting you? Were you two going to grow tired of James?

He couldn’t lose you guys; he couldn’t let that happen.

He wouldn’t let that happen.

You and Remus had been sitting at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall when Sirius came back from practice.

“Where’s Prongs?” Remus asked quickly, earning him a scowl from his long-haired friend.

“Gee, hello to you too, Moony.”

Remus’ sigh was accompanied by an eyeroll as he corrected himself. “Hello, Sirius. How was practice? Where’s our boyfriend?”

Sirius adorned a cheeky smile as he began loading up his plate. “Hi Remus, Y/N. Lovely evening we’re having. Practice went well; James is working us hard, but I think the extra work is paying off. We’re shoo-ins for the House Cup this year and-”

“Sirius!”

“Circe’s tits, Moons, is it almost your time of your month?”

He was answered with a dinner roll being thrown at his head.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grumbled. “Prongs is tidying up the field, told us all to hit the showers and head to dinner.”

“Black, you’re a dog.” You grumbled, earning you a boisterous laugh from the dog-like-man himself.

“You have no idea dollface.”

You groaned. “I can’t believe you left our poor, sweet boy cleaning up after you tossers out there all by himself. It’s getting dark.” You whined, looking to the windows.

“He’s far too nice to you lot.” Remus agreed, starting a plate for James pre-emptively.

You liked that about Remus. You loved that about Remus; predicting his loved ones needs, always one step ahead the rest of you.

You perked up when you saw the familiar head of hair make his way into the Great Hall, but had an uneasy feeling settle in your stomach when you noticed his demeanour.

“Hey bubs.” Remus greeted, seemingly unawares of James’ dour mood. James smiled kindly at Remus, but you noticed the smile never reached his eyes.

You hated it.

“How was practice?” You asked quickly, earning you a scoff from Sirius.

“What? Don’t trust my word for it?”

“Sod off, Black.”

James itched the back of his neck and avoided eye contact. “It, erm, it went well, I think. It went well, right Pads?”

Sirius looked inquisitively at his friend but nodded nonetheless. “Yeah mate, I think we’re definitely going to see a difference with the extra drills. Fenwick and I were just talking about it.”

“Fenwick? What’d he say? He thought the practice went well?” James asked eagerly.

Sirius and Remus exchanged a bemused glance as you watched James; he seemed to notice the silent conversation going on between his friend and his boyfriend and curled in on himself.

“Sorry.” He muttered quietly, poking at his plate with his fork.

“No worries Prongs. Fenwick said he was tired, but the good kind. He’s looking forward to the match this weekend.” Sirius said carefully. James hummed but that was the extent of the conversation.

“Everything okay, James?” Remus asked cautiously as Marlene and Dorcas sat a few seats down. James lifted his head and nodded quickly, offering a quiet “yeah.”

“What’s the matter?” You asked quietly, causing James’ eyebrows to furrow.

“Nothing, nothing. I’m not that hungry actually, I think I’m going to head upstairs.”

He didn’t give you any time to argue as he stood from his full plate and left the Great Hall.

You went to stand to go after him, but Remus grabbed your sleeve.

“You should eat, dove. No sense in both of you going without.”

“But-”

“We’ll bring him his plate in a little; let him take a minute to himself.” He offered, and though Remus sounded awfully reasonable, you didn’t like the idea one bit.

In the perhaps 45 minutes you and Remus spent in the Great Hall, James had already done his bedtime routine and had the curtains to his fourposter bed drawn shut with what sounded like a silencing charm cast around it.

You let out a sigh and moved towards Remus’ bed.

“It’s probably just an off day, dovey. He rarely has them; we can grant him this one, can’t we?” Remus lamented.

It didn’t feel like an off day, though. Not to you.

He’d been just fine when you bid him farewell before practice; he’d been talking your ear off about all the new drills he prepared and the extra practices he booked. He’d been your enthusiastic, sunny boy just a mere few hours ago, and now he was...well...this.

Had you done something? Had you not been enthusiastic enough about his stories? Had you said something to offend him? Maybe he didn’t want you here; maybe he wanted to spend tonight with Remus – he’s known him longer, maybe he’d be talking to Remus if you weren’t here right now.

“I can hear your brain in overdrive, dove. What’s going on inside that head of yours?”

“Maybe I should go to my own dorm tonight?” You asked shyly, earning you an unimpressed look from Remus as he pulled his sleep shirt over his head.

“Fat chance I’m sending you down to the dungeons. I’ve already lost one cuddle partner.” His lip jut out comically at the end of the sentence and you felt some of the tension leave your body.

“Okay, big baby.” You acquiesced with faux resentment, laying back on Remus’ bed and welcoming him into your embrace.

“We’ll fix it tomorrow, yeah?” Remus said into your neck. “He’ll feel better in the morning.”

Except James did not feel better in the morning and now you were spiralling.

He’d woken up early to go for his run but didn’t ask if you wanted to join him (he usually woke you up as he extricated himself from the bed and would always ask if you felt like joining him. You’ve never said yes, but he always asked you anyway).

He changed quietly and sat at the desk to do some schoolwork. You woke up and pressed a kiss to his cheek on your way to the washroom, which earned you little more than half a smile and a quiet “morning”.

You couldn’t take it anymore; the nerves were eating you alive, and they were only made worse when Remus woke up and James was just as cold with him.

“Jamie, have I done something?” You blurted, causing both boys to look at you in horror.

“What?” He asked quietly.

“I’m sorry if I’ve done or said something to offend you. I know I can be harsh sometimes and I know that I’m not often as kind as the two of you; certainly not as nice as you, Jamie. But I often think you guys have worn off on me a bit and I’m a little less Slytherin-y and-”

But Remus cut you off as you started to ramble. “Whoa, dove. Take a breath, yeah? You’re alright.” He said gently, placing his hand on your shoulder and gently rubbing his thumb along your collar bone.

“I’m really sorry, Jamie.” You said again, feeling your eyes well with tears.

James' eyes mirrored yours as he looked at you in horror. “No, angel. No! You’re perfect, I swear!” He said, tears finally betraying his inner turmoil.

“What has you so upset then, Jamie?” Remus asked gently, which caused whatever dam James had set up behind his eyes to fully burst.

“It’s not you guys, honest!” He cried miserably.

You felt all the blood drain from your face at the sight; you’d never seen James this upset before.

“Oh, Jamie.” Remus cooed in an exhale moving towards him, obviously just as distressed at James’ upset as you were. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve been exhausting you lately. I don’t mean to be too much.” James whimpered between sobs. Your hands twitched as you stood uselessly, staring at Remus cradling James’ broad frame and gently rocking him back-and-forth, rubbing broad strokes up and down his back.

“Why...why would you say that, Jamie? I’ve never found you exhausting. ‘Too much’?” You asked incredulously, feeling sort of nauseous at the insinuation that you could ever grow tired of the effervescence that was James Potter. 

“I overheard people talking about me.” He admitted shyly from the crook of Remus’ neck. Remus’ movements stuttered before he quickly resumed his ministrations.

“Who?” You said simply, hands balling into fists at your sides. 

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell it doesn’t.” You argued.

“Easy, dove.” Remus placated, pressing a gentle kiss into James’ hair. “I don’t need to know who it was, because they are so far off from the truth.”

“Can’t be too far off, I’ve known her my whole life.” James muttered.

“McKinnon?” You asked with a scoff. You were answered by James’ silence.

“Jamie.” You said sternly, stepping towards your boyfriends and causing James to look up at you. “You have been nothing but pure joy since the moment I met you, and any moment I get to spend by your side is an absolute honour; do you understand me?”

James sighed and tried to turn back into Remus’ shoulder, but you gently grabbed his chin and forced him to look at you.

“I love you so unbelievably much, I worry about my sanity sometimes. One of the best things about me is getting to love you, and having convinced you to love me back. Okay?”

“Okay.” He whispered back, offering you a soft smile.

“Yeah?”

James chuckled sadly and took your hand in his. “I love you, Y/N.”

“That makes me the luckiest girl in the world.” You promised him.

Remus continued rubbing James’ back and whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you got into uniform. 

“You okay, Rem? I’ll catch up with you guys later?” You asked him quietly. Remus nodded at you and accepted a chaste kiss to his lips.

You pressed a kiss to the top of James' head, reminding him again that you love him and you’d see him later before heading out in search of the person on your radar. 

Sirius had gotten up today to find James already gone on his morning run and you and Moony still asleep in bed, so he decided to take the initiative and organise the supplies for the Marauder’s next prank.

“Oi, Black.” Sirius heard, causing him to pause in his steps down the corridor. 

“Y/N, we’ve known each other since we were in nappies; I’m pretty sure we were engaged to be wed at one point. I think you can go ahead and call me Sirius.”

Your eyebrows furrowed almost comically as you looked him up and down once, seemingly almost disgusted at the thought of calling him by his given name.

“Right, I will not be doing that. Listen, you’re friends with McKinnon, yeah?” You redirected, falling into step with him as he carried on towards the potions supply closet. 

“Marlene? Yeah.”

“‘Kay, deal with her then, because it won’t be pretty if I have to.” You said darkly, causing Sirius to pause again and grab you by your elbow.

“Whoa there; what are you on about?”

You turned towards him with darkened eyes, quite possibly the most like your parents he’d ever seen you. “She upset James.” You said simply. 

Sirius scoffed. “Please. James doesn’t get upset. She probably just cheered for his rival team at the World Cup or something.”

“Black. My sweet, lovely, wonderful boyfriend is upstairs crying right now because he was told he was too much and exhausting.” You said severely, causing Sirius’ heart to stutter. 

His heart picked back up in double time when he noticed your eyes fill with tears.

“And if McKinnon is left to me, it won’t be pretty.” You concluded, sniffing quickly and stuffing your emotions back down deep into your stomach like Sirius knew you’d been raised to do.

“Crying?” Sirius asked breathlessly.

“Sobbing.” You corrected.

Well.

Well, this just wouldn’t do.

Turns out, Sirius was going to get detention for hitting a girl today. 

“Oi! McKinnon!” Sirius called out when he spotted Marlene sat under a tree on the Hogwarts grounds. “Take your earrings out, you and I are fighting.” He called as he got closer, pulling his earrings own out pre-emptively. 

Marlene scoffed. “Have you taken one too many bludgers to the head there, Black?” 

“What’d you say to James?” He carried on.

“Potter?”

“Sod off, McKinnon. What’d you say?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since we all left practice yesterday!” She argued.

“Well you said something, seeing as he’s now apologising to his boyfriend and girlfriend for being ‘exhausting’.”

Sirius watched understanding pass over Marlene’s face as she sighed.

“Oh for- …he wasn’t meant to hear.”

“Make it a habit of talking poorly about your friends behind their back?” Sirius accused.

“Take it easy, Sirius… she didn’t mean it.” Dorcas interjected, causing Sirius’ stormy glare to look her way.

“Then why’d she say it, huh Meadows? Are you calling her a liar then?”

“I was just tired and sore after practice yesterday, Sirius…” Marlene mumbled.

But Sirius didn’t care; he didn’t want excuses. He wanted everyone to see the James that he saw:

James, who had so much love to give.

James, who gave everything he did 110%.

James, who took care of everyone around him like his life depended on it.

James, who pushed his team to victory because he knew they were capable.

James, who knew he was pushing his team hard so let them all leave early whilst he cleaned up after them.

James, who brought out the best in everyone around him.

James, who offered him a home when he had nowhere to go.

James, who was everyone's safety, smile, sanctuary.

“Maybe if you didn’t spend so much of your life finding flaws in everyone else, Marlene, you’d have a little more time to work on your own. I suggest starting with your poor fucking attitude.” He shot at her, feeling the generations of vile, vicious Black’s creep into his psyche. “Perhaps then you’d manage to be even a quarter as loved as James is.”

“Was that really necessary, Black?” Meadows barked angrily. Sirius scoffed in return.

“No more necessary than what she said about James. No one upsets Prongs like that, you hear me? So tell your girl to watch her fuckin’ mouth.”

And he stormed back up to the castle. 

Remus was understandably distressed.

If having his usual bright, sunny boy so down and turned in on himself wasn’t bad enough, you seemed to be equally if not more distressed on his behalf.

He’d been sort of nervous when you took off this morning, but when Remus saw Marlene in one piece in Charms later in the day, he knew you hadn’t done any (permanent) damage.

James was glued to your and Remus’ sides for the remainder of the day, and you were both more than happy to fawn over him as much as he needed. His mood didn’t seem to improve for your efforts, however.

The three of you were eating dinner with Sirius who was carrying most of the conversation on your behalves, which you and Remus (and likely James) appreciated, when Barty approached the Gryffindor table.

“Hey Y/N, I just had the most brilliant i- whoa, wait, whoa, what the fuck?” He cut himself off, looking to the group in horror.

“What’s up, junior?” You asked calmly, feeling particularly defensive of your boyfriend and keeping an eye on James in your periphery.

“What happened to Potter? What’s going on?” He asked, sounding particularly disturbed causing Remus’ brows to furrow bemusedly. 

No one seemed to have a good answer; Sirius and Remus exchanging confused glances, James lowering his head in shame, and you rolling your eyes at your friend's dramatics.

“Who did this?” He asked then, voice taking on a shrill quality. “Y/N? Did you do this?” He demanded, gesturing to James.

“I did not do this!” You shouted back.

“Okay well this is bad!”

“I know it’s bad!”

“No, this is bad, bad. This is like… this is. I have no words. Y/N, fix it, fix it right now.” Barty insisted, roughly jostling your shoulder as if you were simply standing here negligently as your boyfriend suffered. 

Remus, James, and Sirius all watched in abject fascination and horror.

“Who did this, Potter?” Barty asked quietly, turning his attention to James when he felt he wasn’t getting answers from you. “Give me names; who disturbed the delicate balance of the universe?”

James’ eyebrows were in his hair as he looked between you and Barty.

“Oh gods,” Barty breathed. “It’s worse than I though.”

Barty shoved his hand into his robe pocket and pulled out a lolly. “You like candy, Potter? Here.” He said as he threw the lolly at him without waiting for a response. “I have more, one sec.” 

With that, Barty turned his pocket inside out and piled what had to be almost thirty lollipops in front of James.

“Why do you have so many lollies, Junior?” Sirius asked, reaching over to grab one from the pile which earned him a squeal and a harsh smack on the wrist from Barty.

“None of your sodding business, Black.”

Remus delighted in hearing a slight chuckle under James' breath.

“Why do you have so many lollies?” Remus asked instead, knowing Barty was slightly less volatile with him than with Sirius.

“I was trying to quit smoking. Now I’m just addicted to sugar and cigarettes. Also, Y/N likes them.” He said, producing one from your pocket with a flourish to hand it to you.

“M’lady.” He said with a bow before resuming his piling of more lollies in front of James.

“I think that’s enough lollies, Junior.” Sirius suggested, earning him a scowl.

“The world is fucking topsy-turvey right now, Black! I don’t see you doing anything to correct it! Absolute tosser, thinking I can just go about my day when everything is wrong.” Barty was mostly muttering to himself at this point as he pulled his bookbag over his shoulder and started discarding various things onto the table.

“Why are you all just sitting there? Do something, for the love of Salazar!” He shrieked. “Fix this Y/N! Fix it now; I’m running out of candy!”

And with this, James dissolved into a fit of laughter, causing Barty to pause and whip his head to face him.

Remus wasn’t always Barty’s biggest fan, but he knew that you cared for him and more importantly, he cared for you, and right now Remus could kiss the sod right on the mouth for managing to bring a smile to James' face.

“Is this a fucking joke to you, Potter?” Barty asked incredulously, causing James to laugh harder and even encouraging a laugh from you. Barty’s face softened immediately at the sound and turned to beam at you. 

“There!” He proclaimed then. “All better!”

And with that, Barty headed towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

“You’re welcome everyone! I just corrected a major blip in the universe; but this is the last time I do it for free!”

James began to catch his breath and wipe away tears from under his eyes. 

“See?” You said, reaching across to gently shake James’ wrist. James caught your hand before you could pull it away from him. “Even Barty likes you just the way you are. And he hates Gryffindors.”

James barked another laugh at that and let out a steadying breath. 

“Not as much as we do, though.” Remus pressed, resting his forehead against James’ temple as he pulled him closer into his side. 

“Thank you guys.” James admitted quietly, squeezing your hand that he still held captive over the table.

“There’s nothing to thank us for, bubs.” You insisted, causing Sirius to snort.

“Yeah. These two did fuck all; you should be thanking Junior.” 

You all started laughing again, distributing lollies to the younger students sitting around you.

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Yandere Coyote Hybrid x Small Dog Hybrid Reader

When we talk about hybrids being brought to a loving and caring home 

from the cold facilities or the dangerous streets

But what about the other way around

You are the hybrid

Pampered and adored by your owners in the comfort of their home

Let out to play in the gated back yard filled with toys all specially chosen just for you 

But recently you’ve heard something or someone call for you

For all the attention your owners give they’re still human 

Shorter attention spans, less energy, and just a lack of interest in anything that you enjoy

But the one who’s calling out there understands

The howling and yipping just like your littermates from way back when

Just begging for you to come out and play 

So one day you’ll sneak through the door 

Excited to finally play with the one who’s been calling for you for weeks now

When you do meet him you had no expectations 

But his rough coat and skinny body say he’s nothing like you

“I’m so glad you came out, I’ve been calling to you forever.”

It’s so much fun 

He plays just like the dog hybrids you see on their walks

It’s such a fun time you don’t even realize how late it gets

Or how much you’ve ventured past the hole in the fence 

And by the time you realize 

It’s too late

“You dumb dog, you make it far too easy.”

The coyote who you’d been tricked by takes your disoriented confusion to drag you into the woods

The coyote who’s watched you from afar and found that they’d love nothing more than to add you to their pack

Even though they’ve massacred and fed hundreds of other unfortunate dog hybrids to their pack 

This one 

You are mighty special

He’ll easily latch onto your collar and pull you along 

Your measly kicking and yelping are drowned out as you're taken into the deep patch of the woods

The coyote hybrid–Kyte doesn’t let up in his insults to you

“So helpless without your human owners aren’t you? Bet they’ll be happy to know I’ll be taking you off their hands!”

“But I’m good! They love me!”

“Ha if they loved you they never would have let you out!”

Kyte means that as he shoves you down a ledge deeper into the cave his pack calls home

Swarmed by coyote pups and curious members of the family 

All you get are a few curious nips before Kyte chooses to take you aside

With no other familiar faces just glowing yellow eyes you retreat to Kyte’s side as he takes you to his area in the cave

“Y-you tricked me! And abducted me!”

“Hm is that what you think dumb dog, I’ve courted you and you were stupid enough to resist.”

Kyte while shoving his nose into your neck will explain how his playing was an offer 

“Don’t you see it’s as much your fault as mine. Won’t you accept me?”

If you are foolish enough to refuse with his larger stature

And those sharpened teeth lightly gliding over your skin

He’ll squeeze you tight 

“I guess you prefer to let your loyalties lie with your living owners. Well, I guess we’ll just have to fix that.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

YOOO I SEE U FELLOW UNUS ANUSER🫵🫵 i fucking love ur works keep at it bestie pls feed our delusions😫😫

may i ask for, dan heng, blade and jing yuan with a sweet and kind s/o but the moment theyre (the characters) are talked to in a disrespectful way, s/o is immediately turning into a guard dog with a “i’ll tear out your guts with my hand showed down your throat”? idk i just love feral but also gentle s/o tropes so much😔

Thank you 🫵 my fellow Unus Anuser for the ask and enjoying my writings, despite me thinking half of them could be better but I’m not going to complain if ppl enjoy them regardless.

Dan Heng:

He’s taken aback by your sudden threats of violence towards a random pedestrian for intentionally bumping into him.

He was more use to Caelus rummaging through trash cans before waxing poetry about them and whenever March 7th going off on her own as it was expected of their characters.

You however? His sweetheart, his precious jewel and beloved partner? It was extremely unexpected. Dan Heng had to physically stop you from actually fulfilling your threat by holding you against him before putting a good deal of distance between you and the rude individual.

He’s not against you defending his honour, he just doesn’t want you engaging in fights with random people just because they said something about him that you didn’t like. He didn’t want you to stoop to their level and become like them, no matter how good your reasonings for doing so may be. Dan Heng just wants you to be better than them and not give them the reaction that they needed to fuel their own narratives.

That and Dan Heng knew that you could easily kick their ass but he didn’t felt like dealing with being chased by the authorities for unprovoked acts of violence. However some exceptions can be made to this but Dan Heng would much rather that you kept out of trouble, just for his sake and his sanity as he didn’t want to make breaking you out of jail a reoccurring thing.

Jing Yuan:

His interest is peaked.

Who’d knew that someone as sweet and kind as you had such a vicious side, waiting to come out.

Jing Yuan didn’t care for much what others said about him, but having you come to his defence without hesitation had him smiling with pride. His reputation precedes him wherever he went, so naturally he wasn’t going to be easily intimidated by senseless yapping of others, especially those who had not even the slightest clue of the things he’s put himself through in order to get where he was.

While Jing Yuan appreciates your need to stick up for him, he didn’t think it was necessary for you to waste your time and energy on those who lack the capacity to listen to a voice that wasn’t their own.

‘Always pick your battles wisely my dear,’ he said all the while looking at the person who insulted him dead in the eye with that half asleep expression of his, ‘for most aren’t worth fighting in.’ He finishes before gently pulling you by the waist and walking away.

Blade:

He had an inkling that there was more to you than meets the eye. However he didn’t expect someone who went out of their way to feed stray kittens and puppies, patch up his wounds despite knowing he could heal, would ever spout such detailed threats towards another person.

He didn’t give two shits about what people said about him that he hasn’t heard before, he had long grown immune to ignore the comments from those who didn’t know him nor his past. Yet he couldn’t help but revel in the look of surprise on the persons face the words left your lips, chuckling softly at the countless possible thoughts that must be running through their head in that moment.

It was always the sweetest people that everyone was the least suspicious about, it was near enough impossible to fathom that they were capable of hurting anyone.

A wolf in sheep’s clothing is what described you best in this moment as Blade watched you with new found interest. He found this side of you rather exciting and wanted nothing more than to help you hone in on this side of you and use it to your advantage; Yet he found another part of himself wanting to be the one inciting violence, as he refuses you to tread the same path he did, he wouldn’t allow it.

After all he was the weapon.

He was the one stained in the blood of others.

He was the one that inflicted pain onto others and himself and it was something he will continue to do until death was finally granted to him in whatever form that may be. Blade will refuse you from ever embracing that side of yourself if it meant sending you on a projectory much like his own.

You were his light in the dark for a reason and while it was reassuring to know that you had what it took to fight back, Blade would much rather be the one to fight instead and to be the one to keep your hands clean of blood and violence overall.

[luveline]

hiii jade! can you write something for spencer x badass!reader who despite being sick af, still shows up to work? ur writing always makes my day!! :)

hi, tysm for requesting my love ♡ fem

"What's up with you?" Morgan asks. 

You don't have the energy to tell him to mind his business. "Nothing, I'm fine. What's up with you?" 

"Sorry, are you asking me how I am?" 

Morgan seems to think that you don't like him. It makes sense, in a way, because you've never been outwardly affectionate to him or even friendly, and he's constantly teasing you. But the reason you didn't like him or anyone on the team when you first joined beyond civil professionalism was because of how they treated Spencer. 

You're older now, you've learned that they love him. But they don't appreciate him as much as they should, and so you resolve to appreciate them at a similar level. Spencer gets every ounce of love you have to give, and Morgan gets a smidge when he deserves it. 

"Earth to Y/N. You sick?" Morgan asks. 

You rub the space between your brows. "Sick of stupid questions, sure." 

"Feisty. Where's Reid? Need me to give him a talk about being a better boyfriend?" 

"He's not my boyfriend." 

"He's your something." Morgan's grin softens into a more serious expression, and for a few seconds, he takes you in. You hate being looked at with concern, standing as he asks, "Seriously, are you okay?" 

"I'm okay, Morgan, thank you." 

You speed walk away from the desk to the kitchenette on unsteady footing, where Spencer stands like the light at the end of a dark tunnel making a cup of tea. He bobs the tea bag up and down slowly, his eyebrows pinched together, as though this cup of tea is the most important thing in the world to get right. Your chest aches as you move, your breath noticeably shallow. Spencer must hear you, lifting his arm to gesture for you to come closer. 

"Hey," he says. He usually speaks to you softly but this is a new level of gentleness. It goes without saying that if he were anybody else, his tone would drive you up the wall with annoyance, but he's Spencer. It must be the sugary brown of his eyes and the puppy dog essence to his smile, eager to please, that makes his concern a welcome one. "You okay? Come here." 

You stand obediently at his side. 

"You okay?" he asks again. 

"Yeah, I'm fine. Why does everybody keep asking me that?" you mumble, eyeing his cup of tea longingly. Your throat is sandpaper. 

Spencer slides it toward you without comment. "Because you look sick. Not that you look bad, you don't, you always look nice, but your eyes are glassy, and you look a little clammy." He turns sideways. "You want your tea?" 

"It's for me?" 

"Yeah, it's for you. I put honey in it. I don't know if you like honey…" 

You take the mug and drink it. Honey or not, you're gonna drink every sip, and not just because your throat is deteriorating rapidly. Spencer could make you a cup of hot dish water and you'd pinch your nose to knock it back. 

"Thank you," you say in relief. 

"Sure. Wanna go sit down?" 

"I don't need to sit down." 

"I'm not saying you do. I just," —Spencer laughs, his hand on your shoulder— "I need you to peer assess my last witness account file. You do it quicker than Morgan does." 

"Oh, okay. Yeah, let's go do it." 

Spencer shepherds you to his desk. Morgan peers not so subtly over the partition as you sit in Spencer's chair and roll into the front of his desk, reaching for a pen from his pen pot. You drink blind sips of tea between lines, reading over his file slowly. Your eyes grow heavier as the tea warms your chest, and Spencer's hand falls to your shoulder again. 

"You should go home," he says quietly. He tricked you into sitting down, that's obvious now. 

"I'm okay." 

"You need to rest when you're sick or you'll only get worse," he says, his breath fanning against the short hairs by your ear. 

You close your eyes at the sensation. "I can't go home."

"Why not?" 

"Because I…" You list off. You're sure there was something to say, something important, but Spencer's presence stands behind you and your body must realise that if you want safety to pass out, this will be the place. 

"Y/N," he says sympathetically. 

"Can't drive," you mumble. 

"I'll get you home, don't worry. You just sit here for a second while I sort it out, okay? Don't get up." He rubs down your arm roughly. For once, you get a sense of total confidence from him. You trust that he's gonna get you home in one piece. "Morgan, can you watch her?" 

"'M not a kid," you say. 

"Course not. I'm still gonna look after you, though," Spencer says. 

He takes you home in a borrowed work SUV. You're not sick enough to need carrying, but the moment he sits you down on the couch you fall into a deep, sweaty sleep. When you wake a little later, it's to three extremely important things; the first, a bowl of chicken soup with fresh made croutons; the second, Spencer, his top button undone and smiling as he squeezes your lax hand; and third, your saviour, a jumbo box of Tylenol, sleep aid and decongestants included. You remind yourself to kiss Spencer's cheek when you aren't totally dying. 

[onysfavreader]

Random hc of being Ony's hyperfemblack!wife

You getting spoiled way to much but Ony who doesn't mind because his girl deserves the universe and more

Ony who can never have enough pictures and videos of you on his phone because he is quick to show you off at any chance you recording little maintenance vlogs for your photo shoots together

Ony who just loves you so much and never want to not see you smile

Ony being the only one to help you handle your emotions and make you feel better because he knows you can't help but be so emotional "Shh baby tell me what's wrong" "What happened ma why you look so upset"

Picks you up if you try to walk away from him when you're upset

Ony letting you decorate bc you're helping each other create your dream lives and that included giving you your dream pinterest house and closet lmao

You being the only one who gets to see Ony's soft side after you spent forever trying to get through to him like he put you through the worst when you first started talking but now he makes up for it every day and you brag about it to yourself because it took you forever to get him to that point

You not being any better in the beginning of your relationship those half assed ‘situationships’ could never prepare you for your relationship with Ony your the reason ony’s patience and trust for you is as high as it is

You two giving golden retriever and black cat energy Ony doesn’t look like he likes anyone and doesn’t but is the sweetest ever once you really get to know him especially to you and you looking the sweetest on the outside but you’re are worse then people think Ony is

Ony supporting you through everything and you doing the same even if you don't know exactly what he's doing you trust him

You walking around wrapped in a robe or one of many blankets almost everyday bc your always cold until Ony caught on buying you hoodies and jackets in his size just to see how cute you look when they cover so much more of your body than his

Ony giving you all the hugs kisses and praises he can because he knows you fiend off his attention and will throw the worst fits when you don't get it

You holding onys two fingers instead of his hand bc he's so big

Ony who lifts double your weight on a bad day this and just picks you up and you love it until he pisses you off "Put my ass down now" you shout trying to push him away "Why you not talking to me ma what's wrong" "Boy fuck you" "We gotta work on the mouth of yours" "Ony put me down" You laughed as he carried you to your bedroom “Don’t laugh now” “Baby I’m sorry” “I don’t want to hear none of that ma”

You absolutely loving Ony and the life you've built together

You're only piece of gold jewelry is an anklet with an 'o' charm and you refuse to take off even after he offered to get it in silver

Buying Ony just as many if not more flowers then he buys you

Ony and you having two dogs that are your babies. Ony's being some big 'scary' dog like a black pit bull that absolutely adores you and your a cute little brown toy poodle that Ony tries not to trip over bc they follow him almost as much as you follow him

You and Ony would have different "rooms" that would be your own space yours would be in the attic and he would have his in the basement but you two would still have your bed room

Ony never letting you know what he does for work but he keeps you safe and happy so you push your suspensions aside

You and Ony being the cutest together like your head over heels for him and he completely adores you

You being onys entire world and universe sun and all with the brightest smile on your pretty face and biggest heart

You both having to learn to love but know you want to be with each other for the rest of your lives so you push through the rough patches

Ony cooks and you bake

Ony doing the bathroom, dish, taking out the trash, fixing things, lawn work, bills, bugs, ect

You organizing, decorates, takes care of the dogs, cleans laundry, houses maintenance, groceries, ect

You and Ony who spoil each other rotten and love it

You doing Ony's hair and it's just a cute moment between you two every few weeks one of you will set up the bathroom before going to get the other then you'll sit on the sink with him in front of you most off the time it's quiet as Ony watches you concentrate

You rarely buying Ony gifts because you're always making something for him

You never being able to get enough of Ony

You have the prettiest garden with flowers herbs and fruits that you somehow managed to scared the dogs away from and plug!Ony will some times ask for help when growing his weed

- smut

Definitely the daddy dom of your my dreams he can be the sweetest softest dom ever or the scariest brat tamer but a pleasure dom either way

You almost being apillow princess bc Ony loves being the one to make you cum just by using you but you knowing how to suck it off the bone and neither of you can resist having him down your throat

You being a sweetheart but when you aren’t you can get a horrible attitude and smart mouth only Ony can handle because he knows how to keep your mouth full

Ony can't help but come inside of you so he pays for your birth control

Ony's 's so big and strong and so so big especially compared to you and you love it just the thought turns you on like just looking up at him while you standing next to him maybe holding his fingers and all you can do is squeeze your legs together

Ony fucking you in his hoodies

His voice is music to your ears but His praise will make you're eyes roll back and brain go dumb every time "Fuck you're so good baby just like that" "There you go ma"

You calling him daddy bc what is an Ony

Being each other's biggest eaters

Ony will pick you up and carry you away to your bedroom when he needs you and when you need him you’ll wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist or you’ll straddle his lap until he eventually gets it

You are definitely kinker then ony hands down and has to teach him things like

You liking soft intimate sex and Ony who fucks you so hard you go dumb almost every time And somehow he always knows which one you need

[pervcoded]

bloodhound starring yuuji itadori.

content warning: no pronouns used, but reader is implied to be dfab.

reader is dealing with their period/pms.

roughhousing/fighting (they are training), scent kink, yuuji and reader are 18+, sukuna is here too yuuji. funky (very slight) mind-control/subtle influence aspects. perverted thoughts. reader is annoyed by everything. no penetration/sex. yuuji smells you ovulating lmao? begging (from yuuji). dry humping. idk i was just writing shit and the plot got outta hand.

Yuuji’s changed since Sukuna came along.

Not something you acknowledged at first - of course, it would be within reason to anticipate some degree of pushback from the curse. A never before seen bond between human and … less-than-benevolent spirit was sure to have some stubborn aftereffects. It seems that little whisper of a king took care to extend his influence more permanently than you’d appreciate, frankly.

Yuuji’s senses have been unnaturally keen as of late. Not the ‘notice your new haircut’ kind of attentive - that natural knowledge that comes with closeness - but,

eerily observant. Sukuna’s cohabitation of Yuuji’s body seemed to have bolstered his olfactory systems in bizarre ways. Or maybe the curse had just gotten attached to the scent of your flesh.

Like when he noticed when you ran out of lavender shampoo, you started using citrus. Or when he shouted in front of ‘Gumi and Nobara about how you definitely changed your perfume. Weird shit. Mr. Paying-Too-Much-Attention just tried to brush it off.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d swear he was keeping tabs on you. He tried to be completely normal otherwise - even apologized about the perfume; though Megumi and Nobara ensure you never hear the end of it.

But he’s doing it again right now. In the lull of your training, he seems stunned for a moment; seemingly overtaken by the presence of something around him. When you ask ‘what?’, he responds with a question.

“Do you smell that?” He huffs the air like he’s starved for it, the genuine curiosity bouncing around in his eyes confounding more than it intrigued. His eyes are half-lid, dogged and low, like a bloodhound taking index of nearby quarries. He’s paused your flow, stopped your energy, and besides; “The only thing I can smell is you.” You scowl. You stand with your arms akimbo, lips subtly quirked in irritation. He looks gagged by that response, but keeps breathing deep; lids fluttering delicately to half-lids. 

 “Yuuji.” You go to cross your arms, glaring daggers. “Yuuji, c’mon, I need you to focus.” “Mmn." His nose wriggles; it's a little cute. "But it smells so good… You sure you didn’t bring food in here? I can’t focus with that- ah - smell.” He seems labored by it, but it’s not so strange for Yuuji to be incredibly dramatic about most things. “It smells like…mhn.” Failing to describe the scent, you rapidly find yourself disinterested in his little moment. But he’s insistent on having it.

He licks his lips til’ they shine under the fluorescent, fanged teeth poking from his upper lip as he makes a face. A brutal, not-quite-smile, then something else, reserved as he retained the barest hint of control. He looked feral, like a wolf twitching with pent up aggression, holding out for the fawn to tottle past.

You occasionally envied his inclination towards the eccentric- frankly freaky sometimes- but sadly, at present you lacked the patience. You’re not playing games this week, and definitely not today.

It feels like everything and everyone’s been pissing you off for like half the week. Nobody seems to be on the right timing - no, not even Nobara, who seems more to your speed even when you’re in a bad mood with the rest of them. Nothing happened (you think) to make you feel angry, this pent up, but you think the others have noticed and politely adjusted their behavior. Giving you more space during breaks, keeping conversations to polite banter and short chats, getting you snacks… 

Oh, now he’s starting to make you a little hungry. That’s what you think it is, that low simper in your belly as your vexation grows; tired of his antics. “Stop fucking around, man. I know this shit comes easy to you - or whatever - but I’m not letting you get me behind on training. Stand up.” The demand in your voice doesn’t seem to inspire motivation. Rather it just makes him annoyed, his brows now furrowed as he (bordering on obsessively) sniffs the air. Gets a whiff of something beautiful. Like blood pumping through veins, decadent, succulent, dripping, and raw. Rubs a bit of drool from his lips.

Sukuna’s been chittering in the time you weren’t. A faint locust buzz crescendos into airplanes flying overhead, a mantra tittering in the back of his head over and over again. 

It’s you. It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you.  Sukuna didn’t have to tell him that, really - he’s not that dumb - but forgive him for wanting to pretend like you’re not making him tent his sweatpants. He’s been smelling you all week - and after that argument with you and the gang on Tuesday, apparently nobody else noticed anything had changed. Granted, it’s not like he hates it; quite the contrary, actually… 

You smell too good. Like a forbidden delicacy; savory and not too sweet. Oh, if only he could get you on his tongue. The thought is as foreign as it is tantalizing. He’s quick to assume Sukuna has something to do with it - but when he’s still having those thoughts when Sukuna hasn’t spoken to him in days, he’d think it irresponsible to not take some accountability for it. He scowls to himself, glancing at you in his periphery as you practice your striking form.

(You dance through the air, the power in your thrust brought forth from the entirety of your body; each muscle, moving in perfect sync. The more you work yourself up - the stronger the scent of you gets. It’s like a pheromone, wafting irritatingly through the space, driving him fucking mad -)

“Your yearning is pathetic.” Yuuji’s mouth goes dry as Sukuna’s mouth splits open a space behind his ear; but you must not hear him - too busy slicing through nothing. “I’ve never understood playing with your food. If you’re strong enough to take the sorcerer - they’re yours to be had.” He reflexively goes to shut him up.

You’ve barely wanted to be near him all week. Or any of the gang, really. You’ve been acting differently, too. Quicker to anger and cutthroat, more territorial - less affectionate. You’re only training together because you pressed him for it, like you were dead set on showing him up. 

He thinks you’re doing fine. (Sukuna thinks it’s cute how hard you try).

You step too close and Yuuji’s head snaps to you on cue, and for a moment you think something’s wrong. He’s perched low down, searching you. Considering you, staring you up with that look. You recognize it - better suited to a battlefield and carnage - but it’s good to know he’s finally paying you attention. A full-minded, beady-eyed focus, as if you were a spirit in need of exorcism. He looks hungry for it.

You shuffle back reflexively, too wired to go down to some low-blow. “Oh? You ready to get back to it then?” You resume your offense, leaning into your stance as you watch Yuuji stagger to his legs almost drunkenly; and yet not taking his eyes off you. He balls his hands up into fists, feet shifting into position. “Yeah. I think m’ready. If you are.” His curtness is greatly appreciated, though you can’t help but quirk your brow at his change of pace. You squat lower, tighten your grip on your training weapon. 

You push in at the same time. The point of contact - his fist and your naginata - disappears in a  void of darkness. Tendrils of black jut out in all directions, and all you hear is the crrrr - ACK! of your wooden instrument;  split clean in two as the ‘sharp’ end goes flying and leaving you with the blunted shaft. He’s on top of you as soon as you recover, reaching forward with a quick jab you barely dodge.

The sweat runs off your forehead as you dart backwards, swiftly slamming the wooden handle down into his skull.  The naginata cracks into nothing. He is hardly winded. 

He reaches out for you and you dive to the side, throwing up your arm to shield your chest before Yuuji nearly caves it in.

“-shit!”

You’re gasping, nearly falling on your ass as the force of Yuuji’s kick knocks the air out of your lungs.

“- ah, fuck -”

There’s a feeling besides fear, there. A sudden shuddering in your limbs and a faintness in your head that makes you drop low to the ground, your legs wobbling ever so slightly, 

before they give, the blood rushing away from your head as a new pain blooms deep within your stomach. It joins the one in your chest, tormenting you. 

Yuuji’s on top of you when your vision returns from black (did you close your eyes? You hadn’t noticed), half concerned and half… well -

He’s got you pinned to the training mat below, weight audaciously pressing into your stomach as he plants himself firmly on top of you. There’s something hard down there, jabbing insistently into you that perplexes you for only a second; until his face tells you everything to know.

His gaze is hazy, like he’s coming off that high but not quite - got your arms pinned above your head even if he no longer needs to use that kind of force. His face is red, blushed from ear to ear, and your analysis is momentarily interrupted by his voice cutting through the silence. 

“Well, I won,” He huffs, rocking his hips a little. “Don’t I get a prize? Y’know - for winning?” He leans more to your level. You’re in no rush to buck him off - the pressure doesn’t feel that bad; actually.

"What?"

Your voice is breathy and incredulous when you fully come to.

“You want a fucking cookie or somethin’?” To your amusement, he nods excitedly. One of his hands leaves yours to slowly trail down your front. That focus still hadn’t lifted from him, his attention concentrated solely on the line he’s driving down your stomach.

“Yeah, something like that.” 

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami

all content written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

[simplydnp]

be honest with me. what are the chances of a hard launch in june

anon this question goes back years. and the thing is. we have been right once before.

you ask me this this time last year? fuck no. i might even quip that dapg would come back before dnp would hard launch. well. look at us now.

and even then, you look back on the content they started with in the revival--it honestly kind of felt exactly like where we left off, only a lot more explicitly queer (we stan). and then... trying to see without my glasses 2. and bang, spooky week happened. and that shifted the balance. we suddenly got slo-mo replays of handholds. day, after day, after day, finishing with the absolute masterpiece of halloween baking cinnamon rolls. in all honesty it was so much more than i'd've ever expected from them. truly another post-baking universe.

and it never really slowed down. suddenly we had cat prom photos, catboy butlers, catboy dan w/ phil photography credit, theyre 'wrestling' --running us full throttle into gamingmas, the first since 2017. and every day we had a new thing to freak out over: standing close. golf jokes. and then... pinof reacts. i don't know what compelled them to do it but i do have speculations. genuinely, i think they wanted to defang a lot of their history. we treated pinof 1, especially, with this... reverance. and it wasn't talked about too publicly--and dnp didnt do it either. so if they really wanted to move on, to bring down the walls, open the floodgates, define this new era: they had to throw the first stone. and they did. quite heartily too. suddenly this almost taboo part of their history--almost too intimate to be perceived--was on the table. and we were talking about it. joking about it. giving clear signals of 'we see it, it's okay.' and suddenly we existed in a post-pinof reacts world. of anything, i would've never predicted they would've done that. absolutely wild. follow that with it takes two being so chill and fond. incohearant being so blatant and heartfelt. trombone champ being unhinged and chaotic. the genuine and sweet complimenting of each other in the red carpet video. devan wedding... happilyphoreverafter... we crashed forward in time. never knowing what would be next. where is the line? how far will they go.

they teased us with japhan honeymoon and we knew 2024 would be wild. but we didn't know how much. from wdapteo 2023, to specific reminiscing about japan w/ devan, WAD happening, and phil playing a huge role in it all--from the orange carpet hosting, to 'ive been in *sex noises* with phil from the start!', to 'remote crisis manager phil lester', to dan saying he can stay during the thank you.

one of the biggest videos so far this year was the tiktok likes one. i will be forever haunted by the dog eating cheeseburger and willy wonka tiktoks--theres some things i was never meant to know. and yet. they tell us. explicitly.

every single video on amazingphil since the return of dapg has mentioned or featured dan. there's been a palpable shift in the way they interact. have you seen the way phil has been glowing in videos lately? this guy is on cloud nine all the time. it's really not hard to see why.

the energy of keep or yeet w/ dan... the absolute Lack of pretense of it all. phan twitter... watch your step baby girl...

dan and phil fucking crafts. talk about an unexpected return. legacy defining, one might even say. we're still in this tailspin of what everything means and they drop this insanely iconic video on us. from the storytelling to the production to the aesthetic--and its all capped off by explicit handholding. yes, it was part of the sacrifice. but hand in hand, the heart dan ripped from phils chest in one, and the knife that did it in the other... oh boy. we're really in it now. and then they put it on fucking merch. genius. truly no one does it like them.

and the foot has been on the accelerator since. dan and phil connections, shuffleboard & mocktails, getting deep slumber party, acknowledgement & approval of fics (yes previously given but never like this)--hell, even the sims today was wild for 'is their love language horrible banter 👀'.

you didn't ask for an essay but i gave you one. all of this to say, they've been moving the line. quite intentionally so. they intentionally revived their joint branding. they are 'dan and phil' again, and seem happier than ever about it, and i think that means something. they're saying things they never would have before--out of the closet or not.

as for june... 5 years since coming out is a big deal. so is this year being 15 years of dnp. hell, so is this year for being the first out pride month where they're explicitly a duo and regularly making content together. they're sentimental, there will be something.

my craziest idea is reacting to their coming out videos ✌️😔 --but i don't think it'll actually happen. as for more realistic, i could see pride merch. and however that goes will be significant, in my opinion. i'm excited and curious.

i don't know if they'll hard launch. it's hard to put all of the implications, complications, and speculations back into the box once it's opened. dan's talked about it before--wanting to be able to fuck up and not be publically executed, instead, being able to learn and grow and work it out. i think that's a very understandable stance to have. very grounded. we'd have to ask him if tour/dapg has changed that now. i do think he's had some sort of life epiphany--whether it's about that specifically, only he can say. but i think it's there.

even if i portray a lot of level-headedness, i wear my clown nose with pride. sometimes the only option is to go with whatever is funniest at the time. they're both jokesters, so they could commit to a bit like that. but it's also like, it can be too serious for them to want to joke about. i don't know. i think we're in this almost beautiful state right now--the we know you know of it all. there's no expectations, no demands to be met, no obligations of types of content. they're happy. we're happy. it depends on if they feel ready. if they want to. we'll be here, always.

[honeydazai]

₊˚⊹♡ midday sun and canned crab

feat.: Dazai / f!reader

content: soft pining stage flirting with Dazai (who is insufferable), some suggestiveness

join my tag list here! 🪻

When push comes to shove, Dazai appears to be resolute, will seemingly impossible to shatter.

His unwavering determination when it comes to matters important to him, as far as you're aware, extends to mercilessly crushing his enemies, to pursuing women in order to convince them to commit double suicide with him — and, apparently, to eating crab.

“You're too cruel, bella”, he whines, voice taking on a pathetic tone, “Do you have no issue whatsoever with seeing me starve?”

Your eyes narrow. “You're obviously not starving when you still have the energy to complain and annoy me.”

He blinks. “Ah, but I'd always have the energy to do that, though. Even after death.”

“You're still not getting my lunch.”

“Just a tiny piece”, he insists, giving you his best begging expression, a dog asking for scraps, “I haven't eaten in days. It hurts, you know?”

As if to prove his point, his stomach grumbles; with Dazai, you wouldn't be surprised if he knows how to make it do that on command. He's tugging unnecessarily hard on your heart strings.

Still, you've been looking forward to this, too. Having skipped breakfast, the idea of a warm lunch got you through the day — only to now be threatened by brown doe eyes.

“And whose fault is that?” Your protests are half-hearted, walls already crumbling, and he knows it.

“Well, for starters it's definitely Kunikida's fault. He's been working me to the bone lately. Don't you think I deserve a bit of a reward for that?”

“Not any more than I do.”

Dazai hums. “Well, I guess that's true.” Leaning forward, his puppy eyes morph into a smirk, oozing with the confidence you're used to from him. Reaching for your chopsticks, cold skin grazing yours, he leans in closer, causing your heartbeat to pick up. “How about we share, then?”

You were hoping to devour the whole meal yourself. For a moment, you consider remaining hard, stubborn. Unyielding. Dazai's fingers rub gently over the back of your hand, drawing faint patterns onto it. With how close he is, you're able to discern the different shades of brown in his eyes; some dark, some warm amber, though you're quick to look off to the side again, flustered by the constant eye contact.

Every single thing about Dazai is intense. Sometimes, you're not sure just how to deal with it — though, usually, you give in; when he's asking you to come along to a café with him, not quite a date but something close to it, when he's begging you to stay over the night, touches fleeting and suggestive, when he's telling you that Kunikida won't mind it if you're half an hour late the following morning, chin hooked over your shoulder, lips against your jaw.

You give in now, loosening your grip on the chopsticks and allowing him to hold them instead, his smile content. Not surprised in the least.

“I knew you couldn't resist me”, he coos, lifting a piece of crab meat up to your mouth, waiting; his grin widens when you close your lips around it. “You're adorable. This is how couples should be eating together.”

Butter and salt spread on your tongue, downright heavenly. “Except we're not a couple.”

Dazai merely hums in his throat, melodic and unconvinced, and feeds you another piece.

notes: i have. dazai disease.

tags: @irethepotato @beandaifuku , @the-foreigner , @ranpobb, @arixsux, @dei-lilxc , @atsyushi @satoruislove @pastelsbaby @marina-and-the-memes @texchou @shiggysredhead @savagemickey03 @rosepxtlz @nikolaiswife @okura-s @ladykatakuri @lunerenzo @berywritesstuff @xelia25 @yuuotosaka3 @double-black-dazai @alice0blog @fyodorstolenushanka @ttaiyaki @itsnovariella @black-rose-29 @fyodorscumsock @ayshaashaya @qxxstuff @Irethepotato @serenareiss @atsvsh1 @dilucshandholder @reiikonee @1-800-mocha @xvocadooo @hexiisexii @cupxfcxffee @jodidann @Happymoon16 @yumidepain @nchuuyahq @janeinerz @Aaronthegreatestsimp @fanfiction-waifu @KimxKiba @Morigumy @villainouspotential @ashthemadwriter-uwu @mrsdostoevsky @nikolaisgoofyahhhat @yeonwoomyheartbelongstoyou @hellgirlwhore @c4xcocoa @lyrstybsd @angelsrunes @wuaoqu @disa-ster @aspookyscaryghost @nikolaisboner @urgodmoon @polish-anon @arisu-chan4646nsfw @eroscastle @somnobun @birbysaur @senpaiable @hyunlixie143 @dababyurmom @urgodmoon @4nthonyyliving @brokeniced @nikolaisdove @dxwnstxr @scinclaitnoir @snips18 @flowzel @satohruu @squigglewigglewoo @rainy-dazie @itzashlyn123 @rheeeeeeeesiees @eggcoreloser @mariaace @mello0cat @warriordemigosworld @thescrunkly @ainegueneres @maroj23 @dazaiserectnips @little-miss-chaoss

@hattersrabbit @suve32 @v4mpash3 @fairlyfuji @seraphxoxo @inojuuy @suicide-with-dazai

[lucifers-rubber-duck]

𖤓 Can we keep them? 𖤓

Characters: Charlie, Lucifer, Alastor, Angel & Husker.

Warnings: None.

Summary: Reader suddenly appears with a baby Hellhound on their arms and asks to keep them, what would their reactions be?

𖤓Charlie

• She's extremely surprised when you appear with a baby Hellhound on your arms, even more when you asks if you could keep them.

• She would probably say yes without thinking, with her eyes shining of how cute the little dog looks, before she quickly shakes her head and tries to stand her ground better.

• She would probably lecture you of how much of a responsability it is to adopt a Hellhound, especially when they're still little and can't do much by themselfs, she would probably also info dump to you about them.

• She makes you promisse that if you're going to keep them you'll take good care of them, she actually helps a lot since she grew up taking care of Razzle and Dazzle. She acts like the cool aunt of your new baby.

• She's probably the best influence you could get for your child, she's just the sweetest and will help you teach the baby what's right and wrong, will read them bedtime stories, will teach them to sing and to dance. She's simply the best person you could ask for.

𖤓Lucifer

• He's a little confused at first, he never put much thought onto the creatures of Hell, but the moment you show him the cute puppy's face, he's melting and allowing you to keep it.

• He would try to help to take care of them but wouldn't be very good at it, he never did a proper research on the beings of Hell, he disliked sinners already, he saw no reason to even pay attention to the other beings his past actions had created.

• But after you adopt the little hound, he will personaly go talk to Beelzebub and ask her what he should do. He asks her tips, about the best snacks to give them, how many baths should a pup get by a day, he's going full dad mode.

• He doesn't take care of a child since Charlie was little and everytime your new baby runs to his arms when he walks in the room to say hi he's in the verge of tears, he'll hold your child on his arms and act like he's the actual father.

• Don't even think twice if you need anything for your pup, he's going to give it. They got sick and need a doctor? He's calling someone from the Ring of Sloth just for them. Need diapers or clothes? Boom, they're already at your door. Want to take your child somewhere fun? He'll give you two free access to his theme park Lu Lu Land all rights reserved.

• Man is just happy to be able to experience being a father all over again.

𖤓Alastor

• The moment you show him the Hellhound you can hear static piercing your ears and the air getting colder, a green energy coming out of him as his antlers grow bigger and his eyes turn dark with only red dots to be found in them.

• You get that it's a no pretty quickly and hides the puppy away before he can do anything about it.

• But you're not known for giving up easily and keeps the Hellhound even so, making sure they never get too close to Alastor, and by to close I mean in the same room, breathing the same air.

• You'll have to try your best to make Alastor slightly fond of the puppy. First trying to give up some signs that you wanted to adopt a baby, then start talking about all the perks a Hellhound has and then later slowly introduce both of them in the same spaces.

• Is like showing your old pet your newer pet and praying they get along, but the old pet in question is a powerful Overlord that can easily kill both of you and broadcast your screams to all of Hell and the new pet is a creature that is in the bottom of Hell's hierarchy.

• After weeks of trying he would just let you be to be honest, he says you can keep it if you stopped annoying him about and forcing him to interact with them. But sometimes you would find yourself trying to calm him down because the Hellhound decided to walk too close to him or even chewed a part of his coat off.

𖤓Angel

• He probably wouldn't mind and say that you could stay with them, it's not his business, it's yours, you do what you want.

• Would eventualy grow attached to the hound, probably not as much as some others, but he does enjoy their company.

• He likes being the bad influence and would 100% teach your child swear words. He wouldn't be as inappropriate around them tho, he knows his limits and was scolded by you enough times about his actions around such a young figure.

• I think if the hound ended up getting friends with Fat Nuggets he would care more, he treats his little pet pig as his own child and would find it rather adorable if they got along togheter, you know for sure he's snapping photos.

• Likes to play dress up with you and your child, he would already lend you some clothes and help you take care of your skin or paint your nails, etc. He would do the same with your Hellhound, dressing them up to look all fancy, brushing their fur and giving them little accesories. Y'all probably have matching shirts he buyed for fun.

• “Where did you found them again toots?”; “Doesn't matter, check out this new trick they learned.”

𖤓Husker

• Would probably say something like “I'm not your dad, do whatever the fuck you want” and keep going with his day.

• He would try to ignore the Hellhound as much as he can, he doesn't like children very much and his cat instincts can get the best of him sometimes, making him hiss at the sight of the dog.

• But he'll definitely call you out if you end up doing something wrong while taking care of them, he says he doesn't care while teaching you the proper way to hold and to feed them. If you ask how he has so much experience he'll flip you off.

• After some time with the Hellhound around, he'll start to accept babysitting them if you ever need to go out to work or to do a importat thing, don't blame him if the pup ends up learning a bad word tho, you are the one leaving them with a drunk bartender in his bar.

• The Hellhound and him would start to go really well together and you would find them sleeping in the couch of the hotel's lobby when you return late to the hotel thanks to work, your now adopted child sleeping on top of the man's chest, snoring and with Husker's wing around them both.

• You took a photo just to always remember the sweet moments and maybe use against Husker if you needed a favor from him, it always works and you get cute photos so it's always a win-win for you.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling various CRP pretty boy

Yoinking this prompt from the slasher version of this post because i kind of enjoy this prompt a more than normal amount and I like feeding all my followers regardless of what fandom they follow me for

Characters: Slenderman, Masky, Hoodie, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Laughing Jack, Jeff the Killer

Notes: reader is GN, written on mobile

CWs: none

SLENDERMAN

He gives little to no reaction to you, as expected as a lot of forms of affection dont mean all that much to him

Not that he doesn't treat you with love and care, he does because he knows you like it

Receiving is just a little odd for him, possibly because it's so foreign to him- but at least he doesn't reject you!

Asides from his lack of response, there isnt much else to note! Over time he does begin to respond to it if you keep calling him that

MASKY

He doesnt talk all that much so the lack of verbal response doesnt surprise you all that much

He prefers being called handsome, if you insist on saying something about his looks

Mild confusion because hes never taken his mask off around you, the most hes done is lift it up to eat or kiss but even then...

Suspicious that you've peeked when he wasnt aware or conscious- probably not the best nickname

HOODIE

Doesnt talk at all, so once more the lack of verbal response doesnt come as a surprise

You haven't seen his face yet you call him pretty boy... you might actually be able to convince him to take his mask off for you so you can confirm if he really is a pretty boy

He does respond to the name and seems to at least enjoy it a little bit

Will occasionally ignore you until you call him pretty boy, not a common occurence though

TICCI TOBY

Mix of leaning into the name and calling you pretty in return, but I can also see him slightly rejecting it

He knows you mean it, more than likely- but hes so used to not being treated nicely that he cant tell if you're secretly making fun of him or not

Brings it up passively and hides it behind jokes but it's so obvious hes a little suspicious of you

Firmly reassure him that you really do think hes pretty, bonus if you point out specific parts of his face that you like!

EYELESS JACK

He considered himself average before the cult, nowadays he cant look in the mirror... though that's less of a self confidence thing and more of a trauma thing

He has mixed feelings about being called pretty boy, in general and due to the circumstances

Let's you continue calling him pretty boy, quietly keeps his thoughts to himself

He may grow onto it with enough time

LAUGHING JACK

Giddy, he already has the idea that hes cute but the thought that you think hes pretty really does it for him

Returns the energy and says he thinks you're really cute, he could just eat you up!

Takes the sudden nickname really well and adopts it as a new pet name between the two of you

He kind of perks up like a dog when you say a word they like around them

JEFF THE KILLER

Honestly he would expect you to call him pretty boy, though be doesnt need to remind you of something he already knows as fact

Pretty, handsome, cute, beautiful... call him any of those and hes going to let you know he already knew he was attractive

WILL notice if you stop calling him pretty boy, making it a habit... and you just stop calling him that out of the blue

A little huffy about it but hes going to act like hes not pressed about it- he doesn't want to come off as desperate for attention