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nanaslutt · 24 days

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Throat goat (satosugu)

ʚ cont: established relationship, throat fucking, oral (gojo!r), fingering (gojo!r), dirty talk, cum eating, implied bottom gojo satoru

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Geto rested his weight on his knees, his sharp, dark eyes looking up at Gojo’s flushed face as he jerked the length of his cock up and down, rubbing his precum all over his dick. Gojo panted at the feeling of Geto’s large, burning hands on his sensitive cock. His pants slipped further down his porcelain leg with Geto's help, his free hand wrapping around the back of Gojo’s bare thigh for support.

“Put it in your mouth… please” Gojo begged, his words needy and breathless. “so impatient, Satoru. you were too spoiled when you were young.” Geto teased before leaning forward and taking the head of Gojo’s cock between his lips, his tongue laying flat inside his mouth against the head, tasting the bitter-sweet flavor of Gojo’s cum on the head of his dick.

“Oh god-“ Gojo whined, patting his legs further from the small stimulation, his head tipping back against the cold wall of his apartment. Geto internally smiled to himself at how sensitive Gojo was, moaning and crying from such a simple touch.

Geto wasted no time in pushing his head forward and taking Gojo's cock into his throat with ease, resulting in a strangled whine from the man above him, who reached down with a shaky hand and gripped his hair tightly. Suguru wanted to curse him out for pulling his hair so hard, knowing Satoru was going to lose himself and tangle his hair up in a mess, but the way Satoru looked while getting sucked off was too pretty to interrupt.

Gojo’s head tipped back, his jaw opened as whines and moans left his pretty lips, the dark blush across his cheeks that spread down to his neck and under the collar of his shirt. Geto bet everything his nipples were the same color, hard and begging to be touched.

Geto bobbed his head back and forth, rolling his tongue around Gojo’s cock as he took him in and out of his mouth hands-free, the hand previously jerking him off resting on the back of his thigh like his other hand. "A-ahh nggghh!" Gojo was a whining mess above him, his hips wiggling from side to side, fighting the urge to fuck Geto's face as he knew how much Suguru hated that without warning.

Gojo brought one of his hands up to his mouth and stuck two of his long, slender fingers inside, his tongue licking around them and getting them wet. Geto watched with lidded eyes as he pressed his fingers too deep inside his cavity and gagged, a gasp being released from Gojo's lips when he pulled them back from the feeling, a string of saliva connecting his fingers to his lips.

Geto took the entirety of Gojo's cock into his throat and stayed there, face pressed against the soft hair on Gojo's pelvis. Suguru could feel his cock jump inside his mouth as he swallowed around him, tasting the pre-cum that leaked from his needy boyfriend's cock. "Your throat is so tight-" Gojo cried, his eyes rolling back in his head as he reached his wet fingers behind his body to find his tight, unprepped hole.

Geto moaned around his cock, acknowledging his words. The vibrations went straight to Gojo's balls, getting fuller by the second. Gojo rubbed his wet fingers against his hole in circles before he pressed them inside together, stretching himself out. Geto couldn't tell what he was doing from there, but he could see how Gojo's eyes fluttered back in his head, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he pushed his fingers inside.

Geto pulled back and began his pace again, bobbing his head back and forth on Gojo's cock. The lewd noises from Geto's throat only tightened the coil inside Gojo's stomach. Gojo began thrusting his fingers in and out of his ass at the same pace Geto was taking him into his throat. "H-ahh hah- s-shit-" He moaned, his whole body tingling when he just barely grazed his prostate.

Geto rubbed his hand up the back of his thigh, stopping in his tracks momentarily when his hand bumped into Gojo's which was in the way of where he was trying to go--his asshole. Suguru caught on quick, caught on to why Gojo had gotten so much louder. Geto popped his mouth fully off his cock with an "ahh," sound, before he pressed the tips of two of his fingers against Gojo's which were stuffed in his ass, wet with his spit.

"You're gonna need something a lot bigger to stretch you out." Suguru teased, pressing his fingers in with Gojo's. "You- fuck-" Gojo whined at the stretch, Geto's fingers were so much thicker and bigger than his, but god did it feel good. Geto smiled, making eye contact with his boyfriend before he took his cock back into his mouth, taking him into his throat with ease as he matched the pace of his fingers with Gojo's.

"Right there Suguru, don't stop-" He moaned, his legs shaking when Geto's fingers hit his prostate right on, massaging it in a way only he could. Geto moaned around him, letting him know he heard him, though he knew that wasn't going to stop Gojo from running his mouth. "H-harder, do it harder-" He begged, his own fingers moving weakly with Geto's as he let his boyfriend do all the work.

Geto licked the underside of Gojo's cock, rubbing his tongue all over the sensitive vein he knew drove Gojo crazy as he slammed his fingers harder into his ass how he wanted, how he knew would make him cum. "Suguru l-let me cum in your mouth, please," Gojo begged, his fingers curling into the back of his head, not allowing Suguru to pull away even if he wanted to.

"I'm gonna c-cum, I- Im cumming!" Gojo groaned, his hips jerking against Geto's face as he came deep inside his throat. Suguru's face scrunched in discomfort as Gojo forced his hips flush against Geto's face, making sure his dick was as deep as possible as he shot his load down his throat. Geto choked a bit, trying to swallow each time he felt Gojo cum.

Their fingers were getting squeezed by Gojo's tight hole with each wave of his orgasm, Geto's fingers only making his high last longer as he continued to jab his fingers against the sensitive bundle of nerves in his ass. Gojo collapsed to his knees in front of Geto with a whine, his head falling on his shoulder, his soft hair splaying out on his shoulder as his cock hung between them, twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm.

Geto placed a hand on his sore throat, coughing and swallowing the residual cum in his mouth. "Eat more fruit please, your cum tastes horrible." Geto jabbed,patting Satoru's naked thigh with his other hand. Gojo lifted his head and smiled at his boyfriend with that signature cocky smirk of it, "Says the man who swallowed it allll up." he replied.

"Not like you gave me much of a choice, whining about wanting to cum in my throat while you keep my head glued to your dick," Geto said, his eyebrows furrowing in displeasure as he looked at Geto. Gojo smiled and leaned forward again, placing his head back on Suguru's shoulder. "I eat plenty of sugar, I bet it tastes sweet and you're just being a big baby." He replied, sounding sure of himself.

The corner of Geto's mouth twitched in annoyance. He was going to retort but he decided to keep it in and opt to just heave out a loud sigh in response. "See? You know I'm right." Gojo added, pushing his luck. Geto reached his hand behind Gojo and smacked him on the back of the head, resulting in a whine from Gojo. "Next time I'm gonna spit your cum into your mouth, see how you like it." Geto threatened, though his threat didn't exactly elicit the effect he was looking for when his boyfriend turned his head to the side and wiggled his eyebrows at him, "Kinky."

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #satosugu smut #satosugu #gego smut #gego #gogesmut #goge #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #geto smut #suguru geto smut #geto x gojo #gojo x geto #gojo satoru x geto suguru #geto suguru x gojo satoru

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goatmilksoda · 1 year

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Learned today that apparently crab and Russula mushrooms are not supposed to taste similar and crab is also not supposed to turn your hands red and make them itchy... I thought it was like mango skin...

#turns out my dad is really allergic to crab but still likes the taste so he eats it anyway #and he passed that allergy down to me #and i didnt know until tonight... when we had a crab dinner 😭😭 because i love crab #goat talk #ut was delicious though #its just like how i thought sore throat tea was SUPPOSED TO make your throat feel worse and that was a sign it was helping #but really im just allergic to rose hips

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vampirecorleone · 4 months

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"I'm gonna slash and gash, cut another hole in your ass. I spill blood on the walls, then play tennis with your balls. If the phone rings, don't answer the call. Gonna slit your throat, fuck you like a goat, peel your foreskin off and make a winter coat. Peace!" | "Yo! That was the illest rhyme I ever seen!" Scream (1996) || Scary Movie (2000)

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charliemwrites · 5 months

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Okay so the poll results were for an OC captain, though it was close enough that I still hesitate to name him in the canon of the fic.

I’m also going to be taking my time fleshing out his character because it’s been a while since I made an OC. So please be patient while I add tidbits here and there to build his character.

Content: safe/sane/consensual sex, descriptions of scars, mentions of past torture

Nikto beats you and Nova twice out of three rounds — but that’s no surprise. The man moves like a machine. Even against two opponents he controls the battlefield like a chess master. Neither you nor Nova take it to heart, especially since he always gives you both advice at the end, helping you to improve.

He’s a great partner, a great teammate; you’re sure to show him your appreciation after sparring with a kiss to his nose-plate. His hands spasm on yours as he helps you unwind your wraps, gloved thumb sweeping over your bare palm.

“You did good today,” he says, voice rough and accent thick. He must be pissed about earlier still, when Ghost and Soap threw your matches with them.

“So did you,” you reply, squeezing his hand in return.

“Stay with me tonight?” He asks.

You damn near melt. Nikto has an open invitation to your room, but his is a sacred place, only for him unless otherwise specified. That he’s asking you to come to his tonight…

“Absolutely,” you reply, squeezing his hand. “I just need to see the captain first. Okay?”

He grunts in understanding, eyes flicking to the door the 141 left through earlier. He mutters something in Russian — some insult about goats and mothers you think.

“Yeah, exactly,” you reply, voice dropping with simmering irritation.

A good spar with him and Nova has helped ground you a bit, but it hasn’t helped the anger. You don’t spar any of your team with anger; they don’t deserve.

Luckily, you and your captain worked something out a while ago when you’re feeling a bit… aggressive.

“Cap?” You call, still holding Nikto’s hand. “Could I stop by for a nightcap later?”

His eyes flash, a sinful twist to the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, babygirl. I’ll leave the door unlocked.”

Over his shoulder, you see Nova arch her eyebrows and Keegan grin wicked into his water bottle. Gossip fiends.

“Showers. Now,” the cap says, slapping them both on the ass. “Double time. I need to have a word with Price still.”

—

Long after the sun has gone down, you’re standing outside your captain’s door. Take a breath. Remind yourself of your mantra. He wants you, always will, and he’s going to take care of you.

Then loosen your shoulders, unboxing all the frustration and aggression you set aside earlier. Feel it burn through you, make your hands twitch in and out of fists.

One more inhale, and then you shove the door open.

“There you are,” he rumbles. “C’mere.”

You flash your teeth, “No.”

He tilts head back and forth, cracking his neck. “Alright then.”

There’s no real fight. You’re not looking to get away or actually hurt him. And he’s not looking to actually make you submit. That’s not the point of this game.

He strides across the room and shoves you back, pins your shoulder to the wall. You grip at his forearm, nails scraping, and squirming as the hot, hard length of his body squishes you flat.

“Settle,” he orders.

“Fuck you,” you snarl back, nipping his lip.

He growls, tangling a hand in your hair and tipping your head back. Leaves a searing trail of kisses down your throat, bites a bruise into your collarbone. You wriggle and fuss all the while, safely held still and supported by his hands and body.

“Brat,” he rasps in your ear.

“I’m not,” you snap.

“Oh, yes you are, babygirl,” he replies, a mean smirk on his flushed face. “But that’s alright, I like you bad.”

He pulls you from the wall, bullies you onto the bed. You try to grab at him, get him under you. He doesn’t indulge like he normally would. Pins you on your back so that you can keep fighting, yanking at your wrists in his firm grip, pushing your hips up to grind into his as if trying to flip you both.

He slots his hips between your thighs, positions just his knees under your ass so that your back is arched, shoulders on the mattress. Limits your mobility, but that doesn’t stop you from kicking at air, making half-angry, half-desperate noises in the back of your throat.

“Gonna say please like a good girl?” He teases.

“No,” you hiss back.

He has the audacity to chuckle, which just riles you up more. (It’s supposed to). You curse as he works a hand beneath your shirt, palms at your bare breasts and pinches your nipples until they ache. You gasp like a pornstar, surprised and turned on.

“Pretty noise,” he coos. “Do it again.”

When he twists, you mewl, face immediately burning up as you renew your “efforts” to get away. All it does is make the treatment rougher than if you just laid still and took it, but that’s what you want, what feels good. A little edge to the pleasure as adrenaline and energy electrify you from head to toe.

He grinds against you, cotton of your loose shorts sticking against your soaked cunt. Christ you were turned on before you even barged in. Now you’re fucking throbbing for it.

“Gimme,” you grit out, rocking against him. Gears successfully shifted from physically taking control to just ordering him around.

“Give you what, brat?” He goads, slapping your pussy. The thin fabric muffles the sting, but it sends a white-hot ache through you that makes your eyes roll. “My cock? You think you deserve it?”

Another slap. You cry out, notice the sly look on his face when he notices that you’ve soaked through your shorts.

“Yes,” you reply, all confidence and reckless arrogance.

He yanks his underwear down to mid thigh, thick cock springing up to smack lewdly against his toned stomach. Precum smears over the pale scars there, sticks in the trail of groomed hair there.

“Yeah?” He growls. “Alright then.”

He yanks the crotch of your shorts aside (you hear stitches pop) and then he’s plunging into you. It’s too much all at once and you cry as much, knees squeezing around his tattooed ribs.

“Fuck.” His voice is shredded, so rough and low you feel it more than hear it. He lets your wrists go to grip at your ass, grinding deeper. Can feel the fat head of his cock bullying at your cervix, his favorite passtime while you adjust to the thick base of him.

“How does that feel, babygirl?” He murmurs in your ear. “You needed daddy’s cock, huh? Needed it to set you right again?”

You whimper out a curse at him, gripping at his biceps. He croons mockingly, thumb slipping between your bodies to press at your clit. Not rubbing or grinding, but just pressing. Just the right amount to make you sweat and pant, start trying to squirm to get any friction at all.

He lets you — could stop you if he wanted, or pull away entirely — but he likes winding you up like this. Likes seeing all that vicious energy turned to seeking pleasure from him.

“Fucking move,” you try to snarl, but your voice breaks midway through and comes out more pleading than you’d like.

“What was that, babydoll? Are you talking to me?” He teases, rolling his hips.

Your mouth falls open, a moan ripping from your chest, deep and needy.

“Daddy, move,” you cry, voice going up in pitch.

“There’s my brat.”

He pushes one of your knees up against your chest and slams into you. You scream and he doesn’t even try to cover your mouth, whispering filth as he tilts your hips for the best angle with his other hand. Fucks into you deep and rough, grinning at the obscenely wet noises every time he plunges into you.

Can practically feel him fucking your cervix open to get just that little bit deeper. Licks his lips when he sees the little bump in your stomach. You give as good as you get, squeezing down tight, bouncing to meet him, nails scoring lines down his back and shoulders.

“Gonna ask daddy to make you cum?” He goads.

“Earn it,” you reply.

He laughs and pulls out, flips you onto your stomach while you’re still dizzy with emptiness. Hikes your hips up and sinks into you like coming home. Your knees almost give out but that’s fine by him, he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up all on his own, using you like a noisy little toy for his own benefit.

“Fuuuuck,” you whine, feeling overwhelmed, pleasured tears gathering in your eyes. Then, in a whisper, “Daddy…”

“Feel like being good yet?” He asks. A large, rough hand circles that back of your neck and pins you face down to the mattress.

“N-no,” you whine, fight gone out of you now that you’re getting exactly what you want.

Fuck it feels so, so good. Every inch bullying you wide open and loose, so wet you’re dripping down your own thighs, wetting his ball as they slap against you. You feel split open and pinned, unable to do anything but take it, tortured stupid on ecstasy. He licks a stripe up your back before pressing you down prone, ankles locked around yours to keep you open and accessible.

“S’alright, doll, don’t need to be good to be mine.”

He’s barely pulling out halfway before ramming home now. You can barely get a breath in, the weight of him pressing whatever resistance was left right out of you.

“Daddy, daddy,” you sob. “Fuck, I wan’ it.”

“Want it, huh?”

“Mhmm,” you moan, pressing your face into your arms. Cant your hips just that little bit to get him abusing that bundle of nerves.

“Oh, right there, huh?” He coos. “Did daddy find your little sweet spot?”

A series of short, ruthless thrusts right there, making incoherent, desperate noises fall from your mouth. Before you realize it, he’s wedged a hand beneath your hips and has two fingers toying with your poor, neglected clit.

“‘M gonna… f-fuck, fuck,” you whine, writhing (or at least trying to) against him. Not sure if you’re trying to urge him on or get away. Doesn’t matter, he’s in charge, has been since the beginning. “Daddy, I wanna…”

“Whenever you want, babygirl,” he replies, voice going all warm and gooey. Your chest hitches. “Squeeze around me nice and tight. Let me feel you cum on my cock.”

Didn’t realize that was what you needed, but you fucking scream as you clench down around him, stars bursting behind your closed eyes. He fucks you through it, tapping against your g-spot again and again until you dissolve into a weak, wet whimpers.

“Daddyyyy,” you whine.

And that sets him off, flooding you with heat. He loses control for a second as his hips jerk, pounding brutally into your oversensitive, swollen pussy. Makes a few tears finally slip down, soaking into the sheets along with your drool. The sound of him groaning as he cums makes you spasm around him again, a little aftershock that milks the last of his release.

“That’s it, easy,” he groans, brushing kisses over your trembling shoulders. “Easy, doll.”

He lies over you for a few minutes, letting you feel him there. Right there with you. Breathing and recovering, holding you through the endorphin rush. When you squirm a bit, he eases off you, cock slipping out. You shiver at the feeling of his cum trickling out of you, glassy eyes fluttering.

“C’mere,” he soothes, tugging you in. Lying on his side, he hitches one of your thighs up over his hip, tucks your arms between your chests and rests his stubbly chin on your temple. You splay your fingers over his peck, over the bold, dark symbol for SpecGru. Feel his heart settling back into rhythm and sigh, snuggling in.

The hormone drop is a monster on your emotions, often leaves you shivery and lonely, a little sick in your own body. First time you did this with him ended in tears, expecting him to get up and leave. He didn’t, never has, but you both learned that as much physical contact as possible in the aftermath eases the comedown away from a total crash.

“You did so well, babygirl,” he whispers, leaving kisses everywhere he can reach without dislodging you. “Such a good girl. Even if you think you’re being bad.”

You flush, hide your face against his neck. He chuckles, honeybalm on your soul. Can feel his hand start to move, then pause as he remembers that you can’t handle that stimulation right after sex. So he just squeezes, slow and gentle, helps get you back in your body.

“I still want you,” he assures, echoing your mantra back at you. “Always will. You’re mine.”

You outline a heart shape onto his forearm, not quite able to speak yet. He recognize the feeling though and gently guides your face up to place a slow, gentle kiss to your lips.

“Love you, too, babygirl. Ready to clean up?”

You nod. He eases you up, lets you cling onto his hand as he walks you to the en suite. Fills you a glass of cool water to sip on while he gets the shower running. Turns his back while you use the restroom and wash your hands, then guides you into the hot water.

You lean into him, near boneless, as he washes you, calloused palms with soap instead of a cloth. Then sits still, hands on your hips, while you return the favor. This part is one of the most important for you, getting to freely return touch.

(Simon hardly ever let you touch, especially in the aftermath. Sure, you could scratch and grip at him during sex, but during foreplay it was all part of his dom persona that you couldn’t just touch at will. And afterwards… well. It’s not like he didn’t do aftercare. He did! But the almost formulaic warm cloth wipe down, glass of water, doze for a bit before he left was not… not ideal. Not like this.)

Your captain hums, eyes half-lidded but trained on you, while you smooth your palms over the firms planes of his muscles. Fingers tracing over tattoos and scars. Squishing and patting at the healthy layer of tissue over his stomach and thighs. Lets you nuzzle and kiss his soft cock, even though it makes his fingers twitch with oversensitivity.

Squeezes when you lace fingers together to stretch his arm out, inspecting the lines your nails carved into him.

“M’okay, baby,” he says before you can ask. “Feels good.”

You similarly assure him over the bruises on your wrists and hips, smiling and leaning up to kiss his jaw.

When the shower is over, he dries you off, playfully ruffling your hair just to kiss the pout off your lips. He dresses you in one of his shirts and a spare pair of your own joggers, found in his duffel.

You sit with him for a while longer still, enjoying how he lets himself relax once he knows you’re taken care of. He lies with his head on your chest, your fingers fluffing his hair, while the two of you watch an episode of some stupid show Keegan got the rest of the team into.

Only when it’s over does he ask if you’re ready to go to Nikto’s. If you wanted to stay, you could. Nikto would understand. But you’re looking forward to a night with your quiet Russian while the other three have a little movie night.

At the door, you kiss your captain goodnight. Hug and kiss Keegan and Nova as you pass them in the hall headed to his room. Nova makes a point of kissing one of the bruises on your wrist, while Keegan whispers that he loves you.

You pad to the first door in the hall, where Nikto has stationed himself as the team guard dog. You tap gently at the door, a pre-determined pattern to let him know who it is.

The door cracks open, one startling blue eye peering from the darkness.

“Evening, Nik,” you coo.

A hand reaches out and gently yanks you inside. And then next thing you know, you’re wrapped up in thick arms devoid of any usual covering. You feel smothered, in a good way.

“Love,” he rasps in Russian into your hair.

You hum in return. Place your palms flat on his abdomen. The muscles clench, you pause as you realize his abs, impressive as they are, feel too defined. He needs water. Taking mental note, you draw your hands carefully around, feeling the raised bumps of wicked scars. Make sure he can track exactly where and how you’re touching until your arms are wrapped around him in a return hug.

“Smell good,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?” You giggle. “Showered just for you.”

He snorts, then scoops you up. You make a delighted noise, wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you across the room. Of course his navigation is impeccable, even in pitch black. He lays you down on the bed, but before he can crawl up with you, you place a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re dehydrated.”

He makes an annoyed noise, sounds like he’s about to protest. You shush him with a quick peck to his chest.

“Get a glass please? I could use some water myself.”

Which has him instantly moving. You politely turn away as the bathroom light flicks on, the water runs. Can hear him chug two entire glasses before he fills it one final time. The light turns off again. The bed dips as he returns, presses the cool edge gently to your cheek.

“Thank you,” you murmur, sipping about a quarter of it to appease him before he sets aside for you on a bedside table.

And then he gets what he really wants, stripping you down and tucking you in like a nesting bird. Practically on top of you while you’re still reeling from how much skin you can feel. Even during intimacy, he tends to stay clothed or mostly clothed. But right now all you can feel is a pair of underwear against your bare ass. Everywhere else it’s miles of warm skin, uncovered muscle and texture of scars.

“This is nice,” you coo. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.”

You wiggle around until you’re chest to chest. Start with his hands. Kiss each smooth fingertip, prints flayed off. Then his palms, the divots from nails driving through. Flip them over to kiss his scarred knuckles, smile at the way he twitches, flexing them outward like he’s trying not to close his hand.

“Okay?” You ask.

“Yes.”

You kiss his wrists, his forearms, to his collarbone. You’ve peeked a blue-black tattoo there before. Stars and the start of something that might be religious. Spend a little extra time there, tongue peeking out. He shifts; you take it as a sign of discomfort and move on.

“Here next,” he says when you dip to go to his chest.

He guides your face up his neck, where you press long (but chaste) kisses until you bump his jaw. And realize that’s all skin too.

“Oh,” you breathe. “Can I…?”

“Yes.”

You feather your lips along his fresh-shaved jaw, the nicked scars on his chin. Then up, ignoring the wicked scar along his cheek. Breathe against his temple, feeling dizzy with the trust he’s showing you.

“I love you,” you whisper, continuing along to his nose, twice broken and poorly set each time. A line over one nostril where a piercing was ripped out. He makes a noise in his throat, think he might be having trouble speaking again. Don’t mind.

He lets you get down to his mouth, where a particularly twisted scar warps part of his upper lip away from his teeth. You think that if you saw it in the light, his canine would be visible. His lower lip is uneven too, like a misaligned seam.

You don’t pay any special attention to any of it, focused more on reacquainting yourself with how your mouth fits with his. He doesn’t lead, doesn’t rush or pull or press. But there’s tension all along his body, everywhere you touch. You don’t ask for more than a chaste kiss, and when you pull away, you tilt your forehead gently against his.

“Still okay?” You ask.

“Still okay.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #the captain #cod nikto #the captain x reader #specgru reader #former 141 reader #nikto x reader

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nvuy · 4 days

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oh, the eldritch horror! — scar

summary. venturing out in the woods to clear your head was supposed to be relaxing, so why is this twisted abominable nightmare of a beast growling in your face?

notes. i rewatched shrek because i was bored and i snatched the donkey & dragon scene right out of it. but like, instead of a dragon, it’s literally baphomet. does this count as monsterfucking bc idkkk… anyway yeah it’s like scar but his goat form. i thought it would be funny. this is just painfully self indulgent.

idk wtf is going on in wuwa but my brain shut down when this loser came on screen and started ranting about shepherds and sheep. whatever you say beautiful.

warnings. scar, very minimal crack (it’s inspired by shrek. idk what to say bro…)

This has to be the worst day of your life.

The creature snaps its drooling jaw in your face.

It looks like a goat from Hell. Like a black sheep that’s wandered from its herd. You can’t see much of its face, but the ginormous pair of curled horns are sharp at the edges. The cartilage could easily slit your throat in half if you were to make one wrong move and lean in too close.

Four yellow beady eyes glare at you, way too close to your face. You can see your warped reflection along rectangular pupils. Giant ears peeled back towards its skull, pierced with two matching golden earrings in the shape of crosses that are the size of your hands.

You laugh nervously in its face.

Oh, god, it’s going to eat you alive. You know it.

You try to take a step back, but you’re met with the roots of a tree at your feet and the trunk digging harshly into your back.

Bad idea. Oh, this was all a bad idea. The bad luck streak should’ve been an indicator right from this morning: you slept through your alarm and were subsequently late for work, you fell over twice at work, you lost your house keys, and then you decided to clear your head and go for a walk.

You ended up venturing off deeper into the trees to search for herbs to help back at the clinic in Jinzhou. You don’t even know which direction the city is anymore.

And now, there’s a creature—and it can’t be a Tacet Discord—growling and snapping its teeth in your face. It’s huge. It’s way too big to be absorbed, let alone actually taken down with brute force. Whacking it with a stick certainly didn’t help.

All that did was manage to slash a decent gash into one of its hind legs and anger it even further.

It snarls at you.

A bead of sweat rolls down your temple.

Uh oh.

“Oh, what large teeth you have!” Your voice comes out shaky, and you’re trembling as you stare up at it.

A low guttural noise escapes from the depths of its throat, and its jaw unhinges.

Your eyes pinch shut. “I-I mean, white, sparkling, teeth!” You let out a nervous huff of laughter, your words almost incoherent. “I know you probably hear this all the time from your food, but, you must take really good care of those pearly whites, ‘cause that is one dazzling smile you’ve got there!”

The creature’s slitted eyes narrow in suspicion. Its jaw snaps closed as it pulls only a few inches away from your burning skin.

You quickly wipe your sweaty palms on your hands.

You clear your throat. “I’m so grateful that your beautiful smile will be the last thing I ever see. Y’know… when you eat me… ‘cause I’m sure you must be hungry!” You prattle on and on, and your knees are weak and wobbly. “Not that you have to eat me. I’d prefer if you didn’t, but– yeah! So grateful!”

You were praying to whatever Gods could hear you that your mindless babbling saved your life. Or some superhero came through and took this thing down in one swing.

The giant creature seems to preen at your words. Its sharp teeth retreat behind a now closed mouth. Its horn suddenly don’t appear as sharp as they were before, and the curl of them against the creature’s skull look softer and more defined. They were different to the ghastly sharp edges you saw before.

Your legs can’t keep still. Your hands interlock in front of you to try and quell the shaking. Your bones feel like they’re vibrating beneath your skin.

You try to control your breathing. “Beautiful hair–fur, by the way.” You raise a finger to point at the greyish locks behind its horns. For such a mangy beast, its hair looked a bit silky. Maybe unwashed, and it was full of twigs, but slightly soft. “And I smell a hint of berry…” Lie. “…Did you… wash it?”

Stupid question.

You try to control your breathing.

Maybe the beast isn’t a beast. Maybe it’s a nice creature cursed with being ugly.

The creature is still eyeing you.

Can it understand you? Or is it trying to survey whether you’re a threat or not? You can’t tell. You heard somewhere that dogs don't like when people look them in the eyes. You didn’t even know if that was true.

The correlation is stupid, regardless. This beast is far from even remotely resembling the canis genus.

Its head is huge, even when its jaw is shut. Its nostrils are the size of your hand, and it breathes puffs of hot air in your face. You reel back further into the tree. Your stomach drops impossibly lower than it already has. Your skin is soaked in sweat.

The creature bumps its nose against your sternum and inhales sharply.

You glance to the left.

Is it… smelling you? Is it trying to figure out if you’re edible? Oh, Gods, then you’re embarrassing stalling would have been for nothing. What a day. As if it couldn’t get any worse than it already had been.

You can't outrun it. It’s huge. By the time you’ve sprinted ten feet away it can simply lean over and pluck you by the back of your collar and pop you into its mouth.

Your insides churn at the thought. You were afraid you’d hunch over and vomit out of fear on the creature’s face.

Bad plan? Maybe then it wouldn’t eat you, at least. Or maybe it would. You were afraid to take the chances, and swallow the bile rising up your throat.

Its oddly bent arms smash into the dirt on either side of you. A low garble echoes in its throat and bubbles with saliva.

It sounds like a croak of sorts.

The lamb creature bumps its sharp snout into your stomach. Those beady eyes blink—you notice it has vertical eyelids. Gross. It’s like a giant lizard, almost.

Its teeth are gone for the moment, though, so it offers you a moment of reprieve. Or maybe it’s trying to calm you down so your blood tastes sweeter, or something. Sweat continues to roll down your neck, and you swallow the giant lump in your throat.

The red sashes of the torn clothes on its back pull with its form, ripping at the seams even more.

Your eyes flit nervously to the wound on its leg. It’s a small smear of crimson against grey fur, barely noticeable, and you’re sure the creature can’t even feel the sudden pain from it anymore. It seems to be walking fine, and it does not exhibit any discomfort when it shifts its weight to each hoof.

You wince when you spot the gnarly gash you left on it.

The lump in your throat doesn’t dislodge.

You try to ignore it.

The creature’s long neck pulls into view again. It’s watching you silently.

You figure if it wanted to eat you, it would have done so already. Hopefully you seemed inedible to it. Maybe it was an omnivore or something—but those sharp teeth were definitely not just for chewing on leaves and berries in the wild.

Morphed fingers dig deeper into the dirt beside your feet.

You stare into its eyes.

Its still eyeing you.

Huh.

It’s… curious. It blinks slowly, one eye at a time, as you slowly, and so slowly, slower than you’ve ever moved in your life, raise your hands.

Then, you navigate around its giant leg beside you and step towards the gash on its hind leg. Your foot tramples onto a twig and it snaps loudly. The creature watches you with lidded eyes, but there’s a flash of teeth in warning. You gulp.

You kneel before its wounded leg and pull your satchel from around your waist.

The creature does nothing. Its teeth disappear behind its mouth again.

“Sorry,” you whisper with a wince. You hope it can understand you’re not a threat. Maybe it’s scared of you. Wouldn’t that be a spectacle? A giant predator, some eldritch abomination in the middle of the woods, scared of a little flesh bag. “Um… I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just scared, y’see?”

You had meant to hurt it, but you’d spit little white lies if they saved your life.

The creature blinks creepily again. That uneven slow blink, like a frog.

You’re more disturbed than anything. You’re amazed that ginormous tongue locked behind its teeth hasn’t come forth to lick its sclera wet yet. Then you’d be more convinced.

You try not to let it show. “But, um…” You dig around in your satchel before you pull out a small glass vial. “I have something that might help.” The vial is made of a crystal glass with a cork in the rim. The liquid inside is a deep blue, like the blueberries growing on the nearby bushes, or like thick ink.

The creature lowers its great head down towards the bottle.

It stares at your hands expectantly before trying to sniff around the glass.

Hesitantly, you remove the cork and hold the rim closer to one of its nostrils. It most certainly doesn't smell good; it’s made up of a mixture of herbs and alcohol, but you know for a fact it does a damn good job at shielding wounds from infection. It was fool-proof medicine; you made it. And you don’t settle for less than perfection.

The creature seems displeased with the scent for it seems to flinch away from the rim. It does not swat the medicine, but it turns its head away.

It looks grumpy.

“It might help the bleeding.” It will help the bleeding. You know it will. It will heal the entire wound. But, you didn’t come here to gloat, so you keep your lips zipped shut. “It’ll sting, though.”

The creature makes a noise. It does not sound like a warning, nor an acceptance of your words. It’s simply an acknowledgement, like a toneless hum, but you also don’t speak eldritch lamb, so you could be far from the truth. For all you knew, it was hyping itself up to open its mouth around your head or take off into the trees.

Alas, it does neither of those things.

It sits back on its hind legs despite its wound and then falls into the grass.

Its eyes shut and it stills.

You blink in wonder.

Did it… die?

Nope. It’s still breathing. Its nostrils flare with every breath. There’s a giant pitiful feeling of disappointment, but at the same time, a smaller pang of relief in your stomach.

Your hand reaches out to touch the tender and raw skin around its wound.

The creature remains still. Maybe it’s sleeping. It did chase you around the forest for a good long while.

You hum. It’s like a giant dog, you think. Like a scary, huge, dog.

You take loose cloth from your satchel and dab the medicine generously into the cotton until it soaks it thoroughly. You don’t have anything to properly clean the wound with, but it will have to do. You do have a wrap of bandages, though, and it’s better than nothing.

Gingerly, you press the soaked cloth to the tip of the wound.

The creature blinks its eyes open and snarls.

You try again in the spot next to it, gently pulling any flecks of dirt you see from the gash.

It hisses then, low and horrible, and you flinch away. It watches you cautiously, hind leg pulled towards itself protectively.

“I just need to clean it,” you say desperately. You know there’s a pleaful gleam in your eyes.

The beast tilts its great head towards you before it snorts and rests down on the grass again.

When you press the cloth back to its wound, it makes a noise, but it does flinch.

So, you work gently. Slowly, like you’re treading through thick murky waters. It feels that way. The creature puffs annoyed noises through its nose, but you dutifully ignore it, watching the shimmer of the medicine in the evening sunlight to make sure it was spread evenly over the gash.

When you’re satisfied, you take its giant hoof in your lap and wrap the bandages around its leg. The size of its calf takes up almost all of the roll, but you make it work, tucking the ends into the wrap. The creature does not deter away from the treatment.

You hope it isn’t too tight.

It’ll give the beast another good reason to close its jaw around your head.

The creature blinks its gross eyes open again, those rectangular pupils drawing thinner. It’s surveying the bandaging like it’s foreign; it probably is, given the creature has probably never received treatment in its life. You notice the ghastly scars drawn over its face.

Still, you’re frightened. The noises that pour from its throat are guttural and flagrant. It’s still huge, even as it lays in the grass. When it raises its head, it’s still taller than you.

You feel a drop of sweat slip down your spine.

It probably hasn’t eaten you because you smell unappetising. You’re thankful, internally.

You stay knelt in the grass, dirt staining your pants as you watch the creature warily.

Then, it coos. It’s snout bumps into your stomach and it coos. You flinch away from the noise, hands raised near your head defensively. Why is it cooing? Does it like you? That’s better than hating you, at least. The creature huffs and puffs against your stomach, and washes of hot air waver over your sweaty face.

You shakily rest a palm on the top of its snout, mindful of the deep scars.

The creature only stares blankly.

Huh. “You’re not so bad.” You swallow nervously. “You’re sort of like a giant puppy.”

The creature lets off a low garble. It sounds innocent, like a passing noise of pleasantries. Like it’s enjoying your attention.

Your hand smooths over the strange fur. It’s coarse between your fingers, withered with age and scars, but it still somehow retains a slight softness. It’s nice. It smells suspiciously like livestock, but that’s better than smelling of blood and sinew.

The creature drowns in the feeling of your hand against its head. The gold earrings are cold against your skin.

Then, it reels back.

You almost jump when its mouth moves towards your face before a long and slimy tongue drags up your cheek. You almost gag as saliva drips from your skin, but you try not to let it show. You shiver instead, mostly out of disgust.

The creature seems pleased though.

You’re glad to be of service. And to still be alive.

Nice puppy.

You try to ignore the slime stuck to your skin as you thumb over the creature’s horns. They’re enormous, much larger than the width of your arm, but the cartilage is so delicate, and you notice chips in the black curls.

It bumps its nose into your sternum and makes a noise.

When you say nothing, it makes the same noise, but it’s drawn out and higher, more irritated. Petrified, you stumble back slightly. You have a clear shot of running now. There’s no trees trapping you with this thing. You could try and make a beeline towards where you think Jinzhou is.

The creature stares expectantly. There’s a slow kiss of a blink, and hot puffs of air fan over your face and send jitters down your spine.

“I don’t– um…” You try to settle your trembling. “I’m not understanding–”

The great creature lets out a frustrated huff, and lowers its head towards you. You think not to place your sweaty palm on its snout for pets again. It doesn’t seem to warrant them at that moment, either.

It’s getting dark now, and you’re growing nervous again. Does it grow violent in the night? Is it warning you? Oh, God, maybe it’s going to pounce.

A cloying scent fills your nose. Your eyes refocus from the tears that melt along your bottom lashes.

You watch, mortified, as the creature warps.

Those giant hooves shrink in size, followed by an engorging shadow of smoke and red dust like sand. It burns your eyes and floods your lungs wrong, and you cough, fanning your face desperately. It stinks. It smells like metals and burnt soil. This mustn’t be good for your health, inhaling all this stuff.

The creature horns curl smaller until they disappear. You can’t see much of it, but what you can see is almost disturbing. It looks painful. The silhouette of the great beast continues to shrink, and those beautiful tresses of white and grey hair curl along what can be assumed to be a more normal looking face.

Its silhouette vaguely resembles a human, but there’s much too little to see you’re not quite sure. Black ripples down those long arms and pulls away the fur covering them.

There’s the snapping and straightening of bones. You almost puke at the sound. You force yourself to look away. Sweat pools in your throat like an oasis.

When you find the courage to glance back, the shadows then peel away from the inky red fog and dust.

You gulp.

It’s a man.

It’s the beast, and you know it is because the scars on the creature’s head match the lines and pulls of his skin. He’s devoid of fur now, and his hair is dramatically shorter, small curls imitating those giant black horns twisting around the now fleshy lobes of his ears and his neck.

His clothes are the same. Ruined and tattered, but still that red coat. His shirt is caked in dirt and his pants are torn where the gash is. It’s still covered by the rolls of bandages.

He is on his hands and knees in the grass. He looks exhausted, like he’s trying to recover from the most painful transformation you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

“Um…” It’s the only thing that can seem to form coherently from your mouth.

A grin cracks onto the man’s face. “Hi.”

You nod slowly in a greeting.

Your spine snaps rod straight in fright.

The man stands to his feet slowly. His bones crack and continue snapping as he moves, and he lets off an annoyed sigh before he stretches and pulls knots from his joints.

Then, he suddenly looks alive. “That’s better. God, have you ever been trapped in your own body?” You briskly shake your head, to which he scoffs playfully and continues, “‘course you haven’t! Silly me.”

“Are you–” You feel stupid for asking, but there’s something forcing you to say it. “Are you a Tacet Discord?”

The man’s face morphs to answer your question. “Do I look like a Tacet Discord?”

Well. He did. About five minutes ago. It takes effort not to respond with irked quips, eyes flitting towards your satchel that’s still resting by his feet where you had left it.

He notices you staring at it and kneels down to pick it up. The thin strap you swing around your body is pulled over one of his fingers like the bag is a foreign object entirely.

You figure he might try and rummage inside. He won’t find much if he plans to rob you.

Instead, his eyes narrow playfully at you. “You are so interesting.” He grips the strap of your bag tight and takes one calculative step forward. “Usually, humans bore me. They’re all cut from the same meat platter, after all.

“But, you…” A pleased, airy little giggle escapes his throat. “Oh, I like you.”

Oh, this is very bad.

That smile on his face says it all.

Very, very bad.

You sucked up way too much to the beast.

You’re in for it now.

You laugh awkwardly in return. You’re not flattered in the slightest.

You hoped the world ended at that very moment. That would fix the problem.

You clear your throat quickly. “I appreciate you not eating me, sir. Really, I do! But I need to get going now. It’s getting dark, y’see, and… and it’s not safe for me to be walking around in the dark…” You’re stalling again. It worked the first time. You hope it works here again.

That doesn’t appear to be the case.

The man watches you closely.

“C-could I have my bag back?” You curse yourself for letting the waver in your voice slip. It sounds hopeless.

As expected, he only snorts. “Nope.” He swings it over his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere just yet.”

You really need your stuff.

Your feet remain planted into the floor.

He’s scary. His smile isn’t normal. The scars pulling around his eyes make it so much worse, too.

His head tilts curiously to the side. He’s walking right towards you now. His eyes rapidly move from your face down to your legs, surveying every inch of you he could.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear.

“What’s your name, little lamb?”

Your heart spikes in your chest. He’ll follow you right back to the city, you know it. You can see it in his eyes, and his expression—where’s that stick to swat him off? Your eyes frantically search the ground as you move for some sort of branch to stave him off.

Your hands raise in front of you to keep him away, but of course your little frail body isn’t going to deter him in the slightest.

If anything, he only coos again.

You tell him your name reluctantly when your foot stumbles over a stray root. You don’t topple over. You can’t imagine what would happen to you if you had to start crawling away from him.

He repeats it once.

Then, his grin softens. “I like it.” It looks relatively normal now, like he’s not about to dig his teeth into your flesh. They’ve straightened up from how sharp they were prior, but you’re sure those canines could do enough damage. “I like you. You’re so nice. So small. So silly.”

You swallow hard.

He says nothing else.

Your brows knit together in worry. “What’s your name?”

His eyes flit down to himself as if he’s wracking his brain to remember. Then, he says, “Scar.”

Underwhelming. It’s like calling a kitten ‘Cat.’ You don’t voice your disappointment. At least his name is simple, and easy to remember.

Your eyes swarm to his bandaged leg.

He’s not even limping. The gash seems like nothing but a fleeting thought.

The man, Scar, hums thoughtfully, a nail pointed onto his cheek. “It’s not everyday you find a little white lamb away from its flock. It would be unwise to give you up to the other creatures in the forest.”

You swallow whatever courage you have left in your bones. “I don’t need protection, but thank you.”

He can keep your satchel. You are out of here.

You turn away from him this time and continue walking forward.

“Oh, but didn’t you just say it’s not safe for you to be out here in the dark?” His words taper off into a chuckle. His smile twists into something grotesque again. His arms are pulled open into some sort of mocking await of an embrace. “Come, little one. I promise I am gentle.”

You don’t believe him.

You’re sweating again. Hot ash clings into your lungs. You stifle the urge to choke on your spit in fear.

Your head turns back to watch him, suddenly alarmed. Gooseflesh raises on your arms.

Stupid.

Your foot catches onto a thick protruding root in the dirt again, but this time you do stumble to the floor. Your head smashes against the ground but you can’t pay it too much mind. You’re panicked, and ice rushes through your veins like blood.

You push yourself up instantly, but he’s quicker, and a foot stamps down onto your calf. It doesn’t hurt, no, but it’s firm enough to keep you there.

His knees hit the dirt on either side of your legs and you’re cornered. You try to sit up to the best of your ability, but he tuts as if he’s reprimanding a child. “Now, now. You’ve hit your head. You could be seriously hurt, y’know?”

“‘M fine!” You push on his chest when he leans down far too close to inspect you. “Get off!”

There’s no physical damage except for a small welt. You feel dizzy, but that’s to be expected.

There’s something alight in his eyes.

Excitement.

This is a game to him.

Scar lets you sit up, though he’s still very much straddling your lap.

That same wobbly grin pulls onto his lips.

Oh, gross. You should never have treated his wounds. Now he’s staring at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him. You’ve caused some great beast to grow delusional because you wanted to be nice.

You’re never stopping to help lonely animals in the forest ever again.

You swear you see hearts bubble and pop from his head when he blinks at you. He hums a small giggle before his arms wrap around your neck and draw his chest into yours.

He squeezes you tight and you buzz with the excitement that radiates off his skin in heat waves. More and more hearts float from his head, and you’re sure his pupils are a shape to match.

“I want to keep you.”

He squishes his cheek against yours.

“Uh…” What the hell else do you say? Especially to this thing that’s swamped over you like a giant teddy bear. You can’t even breathe.

“So small. Are humans usually this tiny? And you’re so warm–”

You claw at his arms. His grip loosens over your neck.

He doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. Instead, he looks intrigued and experimentally squeezes around your throat again. “Oh. I always forget just how fragile humans are.”

You sigh in defeat.

Oh, boy.

This is going to be a long night.

#wuthering waves x reader #wuwa x reader #wuwa scar #wuthering waves scar #wuwa scar x reader #scar x reader #✦ ( the macrocosmos. )

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tsukii0002 · 13 days

Text

My demons' periods cycles. By Mc

Note: these are purely my headcanons at the moment, they are based on animal ethology and behaviours that I think would suit each character depending on their personality and Lore. I would love to read your headcanon in case you have them.

Warning: Long text. Possible grammatical errors. It's written as if Mc was writing for themself.

Hey, it me Mc, the best human. Here is a compilation of the behaviours of my demons during their periods, cycles, for practical day to day use. It wasn't easy but I sat them down and got to talk to them, with a little effort I now know what they need. So now I am ready to assist them during these complicated times and be prepared in case I find a dead goat on the porch as a tribute.

Lucifer, Mammon & Levi || Satan, Asmo, & Beel || Belphie, Barbatos & Diavolo || Simeon & Raphael

Lucifer

Light does not bother him, but he rarely sleeps during its periods.

During his cycle his wings are filled with new feathers, to make them more noticeable and showy, many are small and iridescent.

His horns are also covered with iridescent scales.

He's constantly preening his wings, and they are always stretched to their fullest extent (Be prepared to be plucking feathers off your head for months)

The more feathers the better health (The stress of everyday life affects his plumage at this time so if at any time you see it scarce don't tell him :()

Unlike what you might think his nest is not in his bedroom but in secret rooms in the HOL.

Peacocks build their nests by making holes in the floor, Lucifer simulates that feeling by making a nest with high walls (good luck trying to get in and out) .

During his cycle he becomes very territorial and protective over his chicks (his siblings) and his mate (Interestingly Satan has woken up in the nest the most times over time, followed by Belphie)

He doesn't go outside his territory (the house), he feels a strong need to protect the fort (so all RAD paperwork falls on this sheep) .

Lucifer has a pre-heat period which is when he starts to grow new feathers, he eats a lot more and stores some food.

During the cycle he hardly eats, for that he has been accumulating energy ( you have to insist and feed him yourself so that he doesn't end up weakened after the cycle) .

He can talk normally, although when someone outside his family approaches a guttural sound comes out of his throat as a warning.

He produces very strong pheromones, but does not mark with them because there is no need (No one will dare steal what belongs to him)

Although physical contact soothes him, don't rub him if you don't see him relax, especially his wings. Let him initiate the contact.

He's always on guard since he does not sleep. But don't want that his brothers see him in his period.

His main way of courtship is to show off, so to get him to let you live, flatter him, tell him how beautiful his wings are or how majestic he is.

It's funny because sometimes he'll expect you to court him back (I don't have wings Luci, I can't do it) .

His senses are uniformly heightened. Nothing gets out of his control. (Good luck going to the toilet)

His body temperature rises (prepare light clothing, more than for him for you, you're going to need it)

Does he purr? Yes, although it's more like the sounds certain birds make before they sing. It is difficult to hear >:(.

During the cycle his anxiety is accentuated.

Normally demons end up exhausted after their cycle, but because he is so proud he doesn't let you take care of him, and he ends up much worse off.

Mc: So the nest is important?

Lucifer: Very important, yes.

Mc: Essential?

Lucifer: Yes

Mc: … *thoughtful* Are you going to let me leave the house?

Lucifer: No.

Mc: And from your nest?

Lucifer: No.

Mc: …. Let's buy cervical pillows then

Lucifer: *grinning*

Mc: So if I forced you, will you eat?

Lucifer: I think it's possible.

Mc: *grinning * And how do I do it with a spoon or mouth to mouth like the chicks?

Lucifer: *blushing * You… don't make me regret having told you all this

Mc: *half asleep* Everyone is sleeping.

Lucifer: *watching them in the dark with his eyes shining*

Mc: Everything is in order *trying to climb the nest*

Lucifer: *picking them up and lifting them to the nest* … *purring*

Mc: Now, now, let's try to sleep…*still half asleep* you are warm.

Lucifer: *covering them with his wings* Rests Mc.

Mammon

He can stand the light but doesn't like it, during these periods he has a reduced sleep schedule.

During his period he feathers, these feathers help him to be more aerodynamic.

He needs to groom them but as he normally doesn't have that many he is terrible at it (So be prepared to give him a hand) .

He nests, but like crows he does it high up, (make sure you prepare a hanging platform on the second floor of his room or he will end up nesting on the roof) .

Unlike Lucifer, he goes out almost every day, looking for small prey or presents. And don't care if his brothers see him in his period.

During his cycle his obsession for shiny things is accentuated, they don't have to be valuable, just shiny: stones, crystals, metals, floors or polished surfaces (thanks for the idea)…

He is a collector and will bring these objects to the nest.

Mammon is not overly territorial, he doesn't expect his parnert to be in the nest for 24 hours either, but when he comes back from his outings please be there or he will panic. Last time the house almost burned down.

He produces pheromones, and he will only use it on his mate.

He does not have a pre-heat, but you can identify that he's approaching his period by her lack of attention (more than usual).

Mammon eats throughout his cycle, more than usual, mostly meat, but also certain grains and seeds that his relatives collect for him.

He will want to feed you and you will want to feed him. You can't get away from that, you just can't.

His pupils dilate and constrict in an exaggerated manners. And his eyes shine in dark.

Although he talks, he prefers to communicate by squawking and growling.

However, when he is affectionate mood mainly with taps and caresses.

During the cycle he becomes very needy of physical touch, at sleeping, eating and grooming times he must always be skin to skin. Stroke him between the wings or plumage and he will start to purr.

He is happy for you to initiate contact, he doesn't mind if you do it whenever you want.

He sleeps curled up on his companion.

Does he purr? Yes, like his brother it's a similar sound to certain birds, but it's easy to make him purr (pretty much whenever you pay attention to him)

And you always have to pay attention to him.

His form of courtship is to bring you gifts, where did you get coins, pretty stones, luminescent flowers … you can not refuse these gifts or he'll cry (however give a stone or a coin and will not leave the nest in hours, he will think that you have reciprocated the courtship and will be happy)

His senses are sharpened especially his hearing and sight, he can see for miles, there is no threat that escapes him, that is why he is able to leave the territory so much.

He is more honest than usual, if he wants you to hug him he will tell you straight out.

Mammon: *trying that mc eat a leg of an unidentified animal*

Mc: No- NO!, youuuu stay baaaack

Mammon: *grunt*

Mc: *giving him part of their bread * take it

Mammon: *with pupils dilate* Oh *happy bird noises*

Mc: *holding back laughter*

Mammon: Farther to the left

Mc: Here?

Mammon: *stretching his wings higher*

Mc: Here?

Mammon: *purrs*

Mc: How the hell did you preen your feathers before?

Mammon: *curled next to Mc holding tightly a monopoly coin*

Mc: *smiling while stroking his feathers*

Mammon: Love you...

Mc: So your period makes you soft…I wish you were always as honest.

Levi

Nocturnal, light bothers him and can hurt his eyes.

During his period he sleeps more than usual (although he should sleep more often).

His scales cover his whole body and become more colorful. And his horns grow new branches.

He does not need as much grooming as other types of demons, but he needs constant humidity.

During his period the bathtub in his bedroom is full, but sometimes a humidifier is enough.

However during the final part of his period he needs to be totally submerged (so be prepared to go diving)

During this phase Lucifer puts a spell on him to track him. Because his envy can lead him to hide in the deepest pit of the ocean.

Some snakes nest, but most do not, so Levi's safe place during his period is under a pile of blankets, thin cloths and other things (like a burrow).

Since Levi is Levi, you have to make sure to give him wet towels every so often to moisten his body.

Levi is very territorial but he is more elusive and prefers to hide, his insecurity increases and there is no way to get him out of his burrow ( make sure he hydrates because it wouldn't be the first time he gets sick)

He doesn't eat much during his cycle, and if he does it has to be raw, but he has poor hunting skills, guess whose turn it is to take care of this?

Although the final phase of the period (Underwater) Lotan often takes care of finding nutritious prey for him.

When sleeping he wraps his tail around your body, first because you are a source of warmth and second because you are you.

Levi becomes partially non-verbal, he uses a lot of hisses and grunts. After two days they can be easily identified.

He likes physical contact, but he is the one who has to initiate it. (Touch him without his permission and be prepared to search for him in the depths of the Devildom water bodies).

Levi's courtship occurs underwater.

First he shows off, where all his scales glow many colors, this is indicative of health (as Levi does not have a very healthy diet or routine, his color could be better, but we won't tell him that)

And in the second instance it gives a single stone of sea crystals.

The sense that develops the most is the sense of touch and hearing. His skin becomes super sensitive so he can only wear certain types of clothing. And excessive friction hurts him.

His body temperature decreases a lot, more and more as the period progresses because he can not thermoregulate ( that's why he needs to be submerged and that's why you will wake up underwater)

Does Levi purr? Of course, when you talk to him or when he is embarrassed.

After his cycle he will need several days to look you in the eye again.

Levi: *sad hiss*

Mc: I'm telling you that your scales are very pretty.

Levi: *self-deprecating hiss*

Mc: No, I'm not just saying this... but if it really makes you feel bad, starting tomorrow you're going to eat more protein.

Levi: *hiss of indignation* >:0

Mc: Levi, I bring you the food!! Levi?

Mc: *looking for him in the burrow* Levi?

Levi: *poking his head over the bath water*

Mc: There you are… Ah! The humidifier has turned off!!

Levi: *grabbing their sleeve*

Mc: *sighing* we have to be more attentive…. *getting into the bathtub* but now you have to eat.

Underwater

Mc: Who had said that automating a spell would save my life.

Levi: *snuggled next to them with his tail wrapped around their body*

Mc: Are you confortable Levi?

Levi: *nodding*

Mc: Good, love u.

If you have made it this far, thank you very much 🩷

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