#maestrations

Jonathan, his broad chest so large you can use it as a pillow. On your side, left arm wrapped around him, and his right arm behind you settled on your waist. You lace your fingers with his, nestled perfectly in his arms.

Caesar, on his side facing you, one hand under your pillow to prop you up for the optimal angle. The other hand on the small of your back, pressing you gently forward to twirl legs together in a gentle knot.

Avdol, who lets you rest your head directly on his beating heart, that warm center of circulation grounding you to this moment. He brushes his fingertips against yours, his lips on your forehead murmuring sweet words that relax your sleeping face.

Josuke, wrapped completely around you like net. He tucks your head into the crook of his neck, where you can smell the sweet, woody cinnamon of his cologne, his arms and legs basically a weighted blanket. His soft breath tickles your nose.

Mista, his arms a belt around your waist, your back to his chest. His chin tucked on your shoulder, leg between yours, low snores directly in your ear. Curls brush your neck, the Pistols curling around your pillow, with his back to the doors and windows.

Risotto, with a cool body like a godsend in the summer. Stripped to your underwear, the AC blasting, his large, scarred hand settled just barely on the base of your neck. White hair mingles with yours as he takes a rare break, foreheads touching.

Hermes, lacing her fingers with yours, her other arm sliding under your pillow, and her forehead bumping yours, sneaking little kisses that make you giggle, smiling as you snuggle closer under the blanket.

*nsfw warning*

soooooo being fr, the charas I picked for that post were mostly self indulgent. not saying I dont believe what I wrote (tho I am going back and forth on Kars… still believe he thinks of you as more of a pet than anything) but that I think the best would HAVE to include Lisa Lisa, Johnny Joestar (?), Hot Pants. might do a lil “types of tamers” post w just names under the archetypes (ie, Lisa Lisa is a classic brat tamer with a focus on discipline and your submission rather than Hermes being a mutual “remind you who it is that makes you feel good” type, etc.)

thinking about the best brats to TAME however…….. (some of these are less straight up brat/dom dynamic, but my point stands)

*nsfw warning*

Ty ty anon!! And oh of course, why do you think it’s covered so much of Battle Tendency?

Bear with me: I’m going to posit it has a similar sensitivity to his dick, but somewhat dulled, like he’s wearing an extra thick condom. He’ll occasionally tap on it, non sexually, just in thought. It can break too, so he’s not going to just have it out.

But say you’re washing his hair, like a good little pet— his neck tilted back over the lip of the pool-like bathtub, muscles glistening with moisture after the cup of water you poured on his hair trailed down. His eyes are closed. A rare moment of bliss, where your hands carefully massage soap into the roots.

It’s only your pinky that brushes it; really it’s hardly even a touch, and he’s never told you not to touch it, you just intuited it might be a bad idea. What you didn’t expect was how quickly he turned around, grabbing your wrist and standing to loom over you— red eyes amused, but freezing your body where it stands. Water trails down his torso, towards the apex of his thighs, where you desperately try not to look.

“What was that?” He asks, deathly quiet.

“I-I’m sorry, my lord,” you stammer. Quick, what’s a way to get out of this? You’d made small mistakes before, and while your god was generous punishments were not completely off the table. How woozy you felt when he drank off you just a bit too much, the feeling of his harsh hands against your thighs and backside— those were simple. Other servants had suffered worse. Heat rises off the water, radiates from his body. Sweat beads in the most inconvenient spots on your skin, under your shirt, prickling and itchy.

As he gazes at you, however, the look in his eyes turns from caution and apprehension to a reassured smugness. “Little one,” he lectures, and pulls you so close that your clothes are bound to have damp spots where you press against him, “Have a sense of survival. Do that again…”

His next words freeze you, a shock of cold in the unbearably humid room.

Half laying across your desk. Leaning so far into one hip when you stand that you may as well topple over. Eyes half closed when listening that you fear for your life, but the terror weighs less than the pressure on your shoulders.

Kars silently picks you up in one arm to deposit you in your bed. Eyes roving your minute form, tsk’ing to himself and you for forgetting the limits of your pathetic body.

DIO smiling to himself as he watches you, your half asleep form shrinking as if in anticipation. He cradles you in his arms in a parody of past life. How silly. How futile.

Happy pride month btw✌️😚

Mmmmmmmm I love when my brainworms infect others hehe, my condolences and my thanks

OOOOOOOGH OKAY SO. Im so torn on this.

Half of me knows that the moment you touch his horn without permission, ESPECIALLY in front of Esidisi or Wamuu, you’re dead. Like, comically dead. Like only the hand remains and Killer Queen blew you away dead only Kars is not as merciful as Kira and you absolutely feel every moment of him destroying your insolent body. Whoops, better luck in the next life.

But I’m also self indulgent and love Kars :p (suggestive warning)

So for a moment let’s imagine:

How many hours had you been climbing the shelves, up and down the ladder, sometimes giving up and hanging onto it by a hand with both feet perched, leaning out from it and using your other hand to flip to the exact section you needed. Immeasurable, really. Heavy lidded eyes and cramping fingers warned of an oncoming crash. As you step down from the ladder this time, too, your left foot comes down a little harder than it should.

You hiss. Damn. Gingerly, you tap the toes on the hardwood. Thankfully it wasn’t twisted— you already had experience with that from one of your Lord’s excursions into an abandoned Roman villa, where the crumbling stairs promptly quit on you despite how carefully you clung to the cracks in the wall. For days after you could hardly look at any of them, especially when your Lord sighed heavily and tossed you over his shoulder like a lamb, bleating apologies and promising to be careful next time.

After he insisted on wrapping it, claiming you would screw it up, he chained you by the wrist to your bed. As soon as your mouth opened in protest, he gave you a narrow eyed look like you just broke a million dollar vase. Perhaps that’s what you were to him.

Sullenly you stayed in your room, limping to your door for a tray of food every few hours.

Thank the gods you wouldn’t have to do that this time. But your heart still trembles.

You are reaching your limit; it’s the wee hours of the morning, you’re positive, though the house is sealed in a timeless darkness to protect your Lord and his partners in arms. Bringing up your fatigue would be better than ignoring it and fainting off the ladder. But in his position, an impressive arm curled on the chintz chair in front of the fire— you can’t see him, just that forearm highlighted in the glow of the flame. The soft flicker of pages turning. Embers mingle with the scent of cinnamon, blood, earth— the same smell that overwhelmed your senses when he pressed your body to its limits in more sensual, pleasurable ways.

Those memories have you gently slapping your cheeks as you approach the back of the armchair. You inhale. He doesn’t make a sound.

“May I, my Lord?” You ask, polite, soft. There’s a quiet rumble.

“What is it, little one?”

“I… what time is it, my Lord?”

“Time? Ah…” he says it as if the word is foreign. A silver pocket watch raises into your view. “About two in the morning, per your human measurements.”

“I see.”

He pauses. Then, he stands.

You freeze; Kars turns to you, and in all his glory, it’s a fight not to bow.

Warm violet hair glows at the edges, halo-like. Draped in his typical garb— that is to say, very little at all— the carve of each muscle is intimate, immaculate, down to his thighs that could serve as the size as one’s entire body. How he found comfort in what was surely a chair designed for a six foot tall man at best escaped you.

Garnet eyes flicker with a softness foreign to him, or so he would like to say. A brow raises.

“Your tone indicates something. Say what you mean.”

A lump forms in your throat. Carefully, you swallow, and say, “When would you prefer to dismiss me?”

His expression doesn’t shift. Cold. Stern. You shrink in on yourself a little.

“I had no time in mind. But nothing has been found yet, no?”

Clenching a fist, you shake your head before remembering: “No, my Lord, but—“

“I believe I told you that we would be bound to the library until either of us discovered something new. Your departure is disappointing.”

It pinches at your heart, how he says it. “M-my Lord,” you stammer, as he strides toward the shelf, trailing a finger along the spines like he’s looking for something specific. Yet, you see it starting to crack. Frustration lines his expression and it isn’t just for you. You’re sure. Does he want to leave too?

“My Lord,” you repeat, taking another deep breath. “Please do not misunderstand my devotion, I—“

“Devotion?” He scoffs, and tugs out a volume that probably weighs ten pounds like it’s nothing. “What a rich word to use.”

“My Lord.” Your voice cracks, and you take a step forward towards him, where he stares down coldly. But you can’t help the trembling in you hands, the fatigue that promises to cast you into sleep the moment you close your eyes even a microsecond too long. “Please.”

“It is hardly late.” He says.

You press your lips together. “I understand, but I have nearly spent twenty four hours here, my lord. I arrived at six a.m.”

“And? Can you not suffer one night without rest, or are you as weak as I thought?”

“Please listen, my Lord…” tears choke your throat, irritation curdling any trace of anxiety. “I can’t.. I…”

“You wouldn’t—“

What is it that comes over you? A rush of exasperation, or adrenaline kicking in as you fell asleep on your feet, maybe. But the latter is less likely. It has to be, because there’s no way, in your right mind, that you would grab onto his horn like a bull’s handler and drag him to look in your eyes.

As soon as his eyes lock with yours, your mistake is realized and you release him, falling back onto your knees.

“I…”

Fuck. Fuck. Every bit of you trembles, and you can barely look up through your heavy lashes to see your Lord looking above you, massive, eyes glowing with a fury that you rarely saw— cheeks reddened even, you realize with horror, barely visible. At this angle, the implication of his arousal, even, swells from his crotch, the shadow along the line of his cock that would absolutely destroy you right now.

You raise your hands to cover your face.

“Please forgive me, m—“

“No.”

You start to shrink back, but he grabs your wrist in one hand and drags you to your feet. Wincing at your still tender ankle, you tilt your head down, until he grabs your chin in his other hand and forces you to look at him.

It’s akin to looking a snarling lion in the face. Only he doesn’t snarl: he smiles. It’s scarier, the fangs gleaming, pearl like, near iridescent in the warm light of the fire. His hand on your wrist basically covers your entire forearm.

He replies, measuredly, softly. “Forgive me, little pet. Sometimes I forget. Your mortal body…”

He lets go of your chin, only to trail a claw down your front— the gauzy top you wore nearly rips under even the tiniest pressure from that talon tip. Barely a fraction of Light Mode. You shiver.

“It hardly compares to my little toe nail, doesn’t it?”

You shake your head, and his large hand rests on your side. The thumb nearly reaches your belly button.

“But you do so well to support me, most of the time. I grant your rest.”

At that, you hesitantly relax. “T-thank you, Lord Kars,” you murmur. “It truly is my only wish, to serve you.”

He pauses, hums, and then scoops you up in one arm.

It’s not unfamiliar, but still jarring; you swallow your squeak and let the being carry you, in striding steps, your head leaning back against his tense bicep.

Your eyes flutter closed, despite yourself.

“Understand so when I say to you, my pet.” His voice rumbles, and you can’t tell if you’re shaking on your own, or if he jostles you.

“You will ascend alongside me. Or else, this wretched body shall decay to nothing, a sacrifice to me. Follow my lead— and I will reward you beyond your ability to understand.”

These are my thoughts on what the pillermen species mating rituals could be. And obviously, things Kars would do :9

I hope u like it ♡♡♡

● As the horn is a sensitive part of the body, pillermen will nudge it against their beloved as an act of trust and affection. They also bump their foreheads against their s/o as greeting. Now, every time you wake up, the first thing Kars does is push your heads against each other as a "good morning".

● Pillerman definitely purr when they're pleased. When Kars is happy his whole body will rumble like a motor... he tries to hide it but you know the truth ♡.

● Pillermen have a well-known love for accessories, so while counting, they'll bring something special to impress s/o!!! Kars would definitely decorate you with the most beautiful flowers, bracelets, pearls, gold, etc! Most of which he's made himself.

● It is important to know that beloved is heathy, eating together is a must! The first bite of their meal is for s/o. It's their way of saying, "What's mine is yours". Kars is watching your every bite, don't leave anything on the plate!

● Grooming is an act of love. Having their s/o willingly vulnerable in front of them is deeply cherished. So when Kars let's you comb his magestic hair, he expects the utmost care, and he'll do the same to you ♡.

● Kars likes to entertain himself with the sound of your heartbeat. In fact, he's memorized it! Along with the sound of your breathing, your voice, your footsteps, and so, so much more!! It is important to know ones mate after all ♡.

● Pillermen can be quite mischievous. Play wrestling with their mate is a important pastime! Wrestling is a form of showing their mate they're strong enough while counting. It's never meant to hurt s/o!! So when you somehow pin down that beast of a man after pathetically losing every match, it's definitely NOT because he's letting you win, you're just as big and as strong as he... Kars is definitely letting you win because he likes seeing you happy.

Tell me your thoughts, love you byeee♡♡♡

HIIIIIIIIII HOMIE I AM CHEWING ON THESE AND I LOVE YOUR VISION

Im actually obsessed with the idea of Kars rubbing his horn on your head… it’s funny to him if the tip pricks you

Also him memorizing all your sounds is so sooooooo good, he knows them by heart so that he’s already in a better mood when he hears you approaching his door; he might not let you on that he does because he likes to see you squirm but he does absolutely memorize every bit about you

Play fighting and play wrestling is so funny to me bc it’s definitely coded as a Pillarmen exclusive ritual, but as a human, Kars neglecting his nonhuman abilities and just using his strength to subdue you certainly leads to many situations with him kissing you and swooning in his arms. But you catch him in a good mood and he lets you sit on his chest, laughing, playfully nudging your knuckles into his cheek.

Your smile is akin to the Stone of Aja. He will secure it for your future.