#throwing your heart out into the void. be free

[acaciapines]

If possible I would VERY much like snippets or more info on that au because that sounds SO SICK

Poinsettia imposter syndrome is REAL

so your heart au was born when stars said 'wouldnt it be funny if settia had its own body so it was just this 12 year old facing down secret bosses trying to protect noelle' and then we made it literally so fucking sad. the main idea behind it is that at some point toriel and carol sign up to be foster parents as a way of. not 'moving on' from the kids they lost, but that's certainly how asriel and noelle interpret it <3 noelle here remembers kris and dess so when poinsettia joins the family she very much resents it and sees it as her mom like, replacing kris and dess with this new kid she can mold to her tastes bc clearly noelle isnt her mother's favorite child.

like in canon noelle has a real rocky relationship with her mom...a lot of my carol ideas WERE made before we met her in canon so stuff is subject to change but the idea here is that like, okay one in drk unlike in canon deltarune there IS no getting dess back, bc her being presumed dead is a LOT more final than it is in canon, so carol isnt really trying to bring her back bc theres nothing left, right? and the way she deals with this is like. shes not talking about it. she very much holds her emotions so close, so like, in noelle's eyes her mom just moved the fuck on from her dead daughter and nibling without a care in the world. replaced them with this new human kid. it is even wearing kris's old clothes.

(also with the new chapters drop i had the terrible terrible idea of carol maybe wanting to do something with the dark worlds. trying to find dess and kris's bodies if nothing else. and. i mean. she needs a human soul to close the fountains, doesnt she. and poinsettia is this human kid. this unrelated human kid she has no attachment to.

of course this fails bc carol DOES get attached to poinsettia. but.)

ANYWAYS the main idea of your heart is that poinsettia's life has sucked so badly up until this point that this is like the best home it has ever been in. carol and toriel are actually really good foster moms to it. noelle and asriel fucking hate it so so so so much but mostly they just ignore it and leave it out and poinsettia is holding out hope that they can be friends one day, taking all their dislike and trying to smile through it. even having good foster moms isnt enough because it is so clear that whenever toriel or carol are affectionate on it that just pisses noelle and asriel off more.

noelle's arc on her part is that. on top of all the dark world stuff going on (which poinsettia does get involved in--it sneaks out after her one night, discovers castle town, and now not only does noelle have to share her family but her FRIENDS, too, this one place that just belonged to her not even hers anymore, so long as this god damned kid follows her into it), she has to deal with her slow realization that like. all this hatred she's putting onto poinsettia? thats just because it is the easiest target. and especially when dess comes back and noelle's life starts to untangle even more (bc remember she didnt repress kris and dess here), she is really truly hit with the fact that like. shes been so fucking awful to poinsettia and it still looks up to and loves her and how is she supposed to be a good big sister to it after all of this?

theres for sure more if you wanna ask other questions but you asked for snippets HERE ARE SOME SNIPPETS. mostly i write for noelle and stars for poinsettia but not always. under the cut bc. i mean. its long.

from the first your heart fic by stars (@hyperfixations-go-brr)

Hesitantly, you pull open the door and squint into the darkness, trying to let your eyes adjust from the semi-lit living room to the dark outside. Oddly far away, you can just make out the silhouette of long hair and antlers. You were right about it being Noelle going down the stairs earlier, then, but. Why is she all the way down the driveway, turning to head into the rest of town? It’s so late, and Miss Toriel would know if she had a club meeting, right? Someone in the family always drives her to the track meets she goes to. Maybe she’s checking the mail for some reason? You don’t know where their mailbox is, so it could be that, but can’t it wait until the morning? You take a deep breath. You’ll just go to the end of the driveway and try to see where she disappears to, you tell yourself as you tug on your shoes. Plus, this way you can get a look at the stars and maybe relax enough to go to sleep once you get back! And it won’t be a problem, because none of them will ever know! You step out into the chilly night air and kind of wish you had a jacket you could take with you. Oh well, you won’t be long! Just to the end of the driveway, then you’ll come right back up. You open the door more and see Noelle's silhouette disappear around the turn. You pull the door shut behind you as gently as possible and head down the path. It’ll only be a minute, you promise

it was not a minute <3

the poinsettia & noelle & asriel relationship by me

As it reaches out to grab another handful of puzzle pieces, it looks to Asriel and Noelle on the other side of the kitchen table, giggling together. Asriel’s laptop is open between them but Poinsettia can only see the back of it, which has a bunch of rainbowy stickers.               “You’re gonna—” Noelle is saying, shoving as Asriel as she looks at something on the screen, “Azzy, I keep telling you, stop checking the cameras so much!” “But they’re trying to kill us!” “And they’ll kill us faster if you waste all our battery! Here, gimme—” Noelle does…something. Probably on the laptop. Like it said, it kinda can’t see what they’re doing. “Look, just stop freaking out and we’ll be fine. There’s only two hours left.” “You’re such a backseat gamer,” Asriel mutters, though he must do what she says ‘cause Noelle makes a sorta satisfied sound. “Being bossed around by my baby sister.” “You bet!” Noelle scoots back to her own seat as Asriel reclaims the spot of controller-of-the-laptop. “You wanted to do this.” “I mostly wanted to not go to class,” Asriel says, but he’s grinning, and Noelle is grinning, and it… It… It. Wants. Poinsettia looks back down to its puzzle piece pile. Sorts out a few of the blue pieces to add to the blue it’s trying to build. It wants, it thinks, to get up and go sit over there. Where it can see the laptop too. It doesn’t have to play!!! Just…look… Asriel laughs at something Noelle says. Poinsettia pushes around a beat-up blue piece. Its edges are all bent up so it won’t fit anywhere in the puzzle. Which means it’s never gonna fit anywhere ever. What are you playing? maybe it could ask. And sit down and sure it would be real crowded but it would be okay. It might say like Nelle what game is this. And then she’d smile and tell it. And Asriel could ruffle it’s hair like he does to Noelle and it would shriek-laugh Azzy like she does and. It would. It… It stands up from the table and pushes in its chair, real hard. The wood feet scrape against the floor. Noelle is shaking Asriel’s shoulders as he swears at something on the screen. Neither of them look up. They keep not looking up when it stomps right past them, out into the living room.

settia and carol by stars

Now you crawl back onto the couch, closer to her, looking at the various tabs on her screen. You think she has an email application open, as well as a handful of other tabs that you can’t really tell what they are. None of it makes sense to you, but you like to watch her type smoothly on the keyboard, the sound quiet and pleasant to you. You could fall asleep, honestly. You wish her white noise machine sounded like this, and not that awful static-y sound that overwhelmed the room. (You aren’t going to ask her to turn it off though, that would be rude, so you just cover your head with the blanket they gave you to block it out.) You hesitantly lean against her side, just to watch her work, and she doesn’t say anything or push you off or glare at you, so you stay. Your presence can’t be too bothersome, as she keeps typing without much of a reaction at all. You’re really, really sleepy. Which makes sense, you never really get the best sleep, its not the fault of anybody here, its just how you are. You either wake up anytime someone gets up (which, in a house with four other people, is pretty often), or you wake up every hour on the hour burning with anxiety, or you just dont fall asleep in the first place until four or five in the morning. Point is, you’re fighting to stay awake by now all because you didn’t sleep well last night, and the light rhythmic keyboard clicks are nice to listen to as you lean against Miss Carol’s side. You really hope she doesn’t mind as you doze off, head resting against her side now.

THEY MAKE ME SCREAM BTW GOD. all our carol stuff for this au was written before we met her like i said but Man. Man.

noelle isnt jealous of a 12 year old you guys by me.

“I just never wanted it to come here,” Noelle finally says, wrapping her arms around herself. “Why did it have to come here?” “I don’t know,” Susie says. “And yeah, that really sucks. I don’t want to be responsible for some little kid. But—it’s not going to replace you, okay? It literally can’t. You’re way too cool for it.” “Yeah,” Noelle says, softly. She’s not so sure she believes it. Not at home, where her mom and Toriel both dote over it. Her mom barely even talks to her, most days. And yet without fail Noelle finds her mom and Poinsettia on the couch together, into the late hours of the night. Or it helping Toriel with dinner. Kneading dough together. Barely even tall enough to peek over the counter, and yet. It even gets to sleep in their room. What did we do wrong? Noelle still remembers asking Asriel, the night after it arrived at their house. Why aren’t we enough? Asriel hadn’t said anything at all. But that night she’d sobbed into him, and he held her close, and she’d thought, then, and still thinks, now, why won’t my mom ever hold me like this? But Noelle takes a breath. Another. Until all the ice has melted off her fur, off Susie’s bed. “Uh. Sorry,” she says. “Eh.” Susie shrugs. “Not a big deal. Now. Want to go try to figure out how to make cool-ass combo spells work?” Noelle giggles, taking Susie’s offered hand as she stands, allows herself to be hauled to her feet. “Ralsei’s going to make you fix anything you break.” “He’ll have to beat us first,” Susie says, “us and our mega-powerful combo spell!” Noelle doubts they’ll get it to work. Probably they’ll just manage to absolutely mangle the practice dummy, and fire off spells that follow each other but don’t actually combine in any neat ways. But—she can’t help it. Susie’s excitement is contagious. They have to pass Ralsei and Poinsettia, on the way to the practice dummy. The human kid is giggling, watching Ralsei as he holds a soft, gentle flame in his hands, gently presses it into theirs. Noelle’s never heard it laugh before. Ralsei doesn’t look their way. But—Susie’s right. She is part of this world. Ralsei was her friend first. She’s…she’s better than some orphaned human. And she won’t let herself be replaced.

settia and toriel by stars. i was fighting for my life to pick out a snippet from this one the entire thing is SO SWEET.

“Would you mind if I brushed your hair? I’m afraid I might have messed it up a bit,” she explains, and you’re pretty sure she’s just saying that to make you feel better about your messy hair. (Just because it works doesn’t mean you don’t know why she said it!) “It’s okay, you don’t have to,” you reassure her uneasily. You really don’t want your hair pulled by the brush through your tangled hair. “Are you sure, little one? I promise I’ll be very careful. Bows aren’t the only things I have experience with. But if you don’t want me to right now, that’s alright too,” she says gently. You chew on your lip. You do hate the tangles and knots. “Okay,” you respond quietly, and she smiles. “Wonderful! I’ll go grab the brush, you go wait for me on the couch, alright?” You nod and she turns to walk to the bathroom, so you go and sit on the couch, kicking your feet and waiting for her to come back. After some rustling through the drawers and you’re pretty sure knocking something to the floor, she comes back and sits on the other side of the couch, holding the brush and a few hair ties. “Would you like your hair up or anything, dear?” She asks, and you shake your head. You don’t want your hair being tugged on to get it looking nice right now. “Alright,” she smiles, tucking the hair ties into a pocket on her cardigan, “Turn around and sit in front of me, then, dear, and I’ll get started.” You do as asked, bringing your legs up onto the couch and crossing them, tapping your fingers on the soft fabric of your leggings. Miss Toriel quickly, and, as promised, gently, begins brushing through your hair. It’s not super tangled or matted or anything (your hair got really badly tangled once - never again), but you still wince whenever she catches a knot on the brush and works through it. But she’s gentle, and it only pulls a little bit and she apologizes if you ever suck in a breath through your teeth or make a noise. It’s surprisingly nice, and it’s over after a few minutes. “Um, thank you, Miss Toriel.” You turn and smile up at her before hopping to your feet. “Wh-what time is it? I don’t want you and Noelle to be late.” Miss Toriel checks her watch and gently waves you off. “We have plenty of time, dear, but I’ll go check on Noelle to make sure she’s ready to go,” she laughs, standing up. “I’m ready,” a voice comes from the far side of the kitchen, making you jump a little. “We can go ahead and go.” You’re surprised - you didn’t even hear her come down or anything, which is such a surprise because normally you would notice someone going down the stairs? Or even walking around upstairs? But it doesn’t really matter you guess, and Miss Toriel and Noelle are already almost out the door so you hurry to follow them.

takes place directly after the one above but from noelle's pov, by me

There’s not a lot to talk about. Toriel tries to start conversation, asks Noelle how her days have been, what she’s learning in school. Noelle’s answers are a few words each. She’s doing fine. Yes, she understands the material. Ms. Alphys is still nervous all the time. She and Susie are making good progress on their project. All through it Poinsettia holds Toriel’s hand and watches Noelle with big wet eyes. Its hair has been brushed out nicely, and the bow on its back has been tied in such a way Noelle knows Toriel did it, because it’s not like the kid could’ve done that on its own. Sometimes it even talks, in its soft voice, and Toriel beams when it does. Noelle swallows down her bitterness. Clenches her hands, and imagines her magic building up in them. Something sharp and cold to focus on. But they make it to the school, somehow. Poinsettia furrows its brow and tries to leap over all the cracks in the tiny parking lot, giggling to itself when it succeeds, yellow bow billowing out. Noelle closes her eyes, and tries to imagine—another life. Where her not-really-stepsibling didn’t die. Where there was never any need for a replacement kid. She doesn’t even remember what Kris looked like.

poinsettia's first birthday with the holiday-dreemurrs by stars

You don’t think a single other one of your foster families really celebrated your birthday before, not as far as you can remember anyways. You honestly kind of forgot you had one. You were really surprised when mama Tori and mama Carol brought you a small gift while you were eating the breakfast they made. Noelle and Asriel were out doing something that you don’t remember, so they weren’t there, but mama Tori asked you if you knew what day it was. You didn’t, and she smiled and ruffled your hair, saying “It’s your birthday, silly!” You definitely felt a little silly, but she quickly encouraged you to open your gift. Inside the wrapped box was a set of simple gold earrings in the shape of a star, and a gold necklace with a feather pendant. You’ve had your ears pierced since forever, but you haven’t worn earrings in a while because you didn’t have any. But today, mama Carol helps you put on your new earrings and clasp your new necklace around your neck with a smile before ushering you off to get properly dressed for the day. So you’re in your usual outfit, with your hair nicely brushed by mama Tori, and your pretty necklace and earrings on, in the diner with your moms, doodling in your notebook and kicking your feet under the table happily. Lunch passes by in kind of a blur of you and your moms talking about anything and everything, and they ask you to pick out a dessert to have from the menu, which!! Yay!! When your dessert comes, you let your moms have some too, of course. You aren’t finished yet when mama Carol pulls something out of her bag - a slim box that rattles a little bit, wrapped in striped pale yellow paper. She sets it in between you two and you put your fork down and nudge your plate out of the way, looking between both of them quickly. When mama Tori nods, you gently pick up the box and pop the tape on the neatly folded edges and tear away the wrapping paper. You take the box out and open it, and inside is a collection of things just for you. In a small case, two normal pencils, two charcoal pencils, an eraser, and a sharpener sit, visible through the clear cover. The largest thing is a leather bound sketchbook with a laser-engraved centered flower on the cover, and, at the bottom, written neatly - your new name, Poinsettia. “A proper sketchbook, since you spend so much time drawing in those notebooks, And some basic art supplies,” mama Carol says to you quietly. If you looked up at her, you think she’d be smiling. You can’t tear your eyes away, though. You blink back tears as you stare at it, feeling them fall down your cheeks anyways. You hold the sketchbook close to your chest, running your fingers over the lines on the cover, and lean against mama Carol, closing your eyes and whispering a quiet “thank you.”

what noelle's up to on poinsettia's birthday, by me.

“I don’t want to be replaced,” she whispers, like if she just says it into his fur, it won’t be real, “they’ve already replaced their other kids. Ralsei…we never talk about Kris and Dess, and—sometimes I’m not even sure they were real, I think they’re just dreams I made up, I don’t even know if I remember them, if I miss them, but—but Mom and Toriel—but they never, they’re just…moving on, and I…if I—” “Noelle,” he murmurs, and somehow her name in his voice is like—the dam breaking, or something. She’s wracked with a whole new wave of sobs. Sort of wants to vanish and never show her face here again. Sort of never wants to part herself from Ralsei again. “…I’m…I wish I knew what to say, but…you know I’m your best friend, okay? No—no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ever replace you.” “You keep teaching Poinsettia magic,” Noelle sniffs. She is almost certainly getting snot on Ralsei’s robes. “It’s human, and I’m just—” “My best friend,” Ralsei says, and there is something about the possessive—my, mine—that makes Noelle shiver. “Of course I’m teaching Poinsettia magic. It’s a kid, and it’s so scared down here, and it shouldn’t even be down here, but it is. I’m not going to stop that. But—how could you ever think I’d replace you?”      “Everyone does,” she says. “Mom. Toriel. Asriel, one day, I bet.” “Everyone?” Ralsei nudges her, and she looks up through watery eyes at him and the small smile across his muzzle. “What, me and Susie too?” She ducks away again. “Can you just let me be angry and miserable?”     He laughs. A sound like the sun rising. “Of course not!” he says. “Noelle…I can’t fix your relationship with your moms. And…I don’t know how to help you, with all of that. But—thank you for telling me. And…you do know, all of this anger…you’re taking it out on an innocent child.” “Don’t say that,” Noelle mutters, “don’t make me feel worse.” But she hugs Ralsei, finally manages to sit up under her own weight. “…I can’t do it,” she says, “I—I can’t go to its birthday, not…I can’t, Ralsei. I can’t.” “Okay,” he says, softly. He’s still holding her, she notices—he’s taken one of her hands in his, tracing the lines of her palm. “Baby steps, then. I think…if you actually had a conversation with it, you two could be friends. I think it’s mostly just very scared, Noelle. And…when it does talk about you, it only ever has good things to say.” Good things. Noelle doesn’t think she’s exchanged more than the bare minimum words necessary to exist in the same household with Poinsettia, and it only tells Ralsei good things. It draws a laugh out of her, one that makes her lungs ache, which makes her laugh even harder, and then Ralsei is fretting over her, the warm wash of his healing magic settling into her skin, and that turns the laughter back into sobs. She curls up on her bed with her head in his lap. “This is so stupid,” she tells him, tilting her head back so she can see his face. “I’ve been so stupid.”

oh shit is the plot of drk starting. by stars.

Asgore sits next to you on the bed, holding the remote and ticking up the volume as the grainy outdated logo pans across the screen and music plays in the background. Before the tape can actually get to the movie, though, he pauses it and looks at you. You stare up at him, confused. “Is something wrong?” You ask, worried. He shakes his head and you relax a little. “No, no.. I just wanted to say, Poinsettia… No matter what happens with Dess and Kris, we aren’t going to make you leave. Your mothers truly do care a lot about you.” Your skin crawls and you bite your lip. You came here to get away from all of that! Why does he have to bring it up? But, your anger quickly gives way to sadness and you break eye contact and just lean into his side. You don’t know if you can believe him, but… “Okay,” you whisper. “I trust you.” He smooths down your hair soothingly and wraps his arm around you before wordlessly unpausing the movie. It’s nice. You hope he’s right. You really, really want to believe it will last.

what poinsettia ran away to the flower shop to escape. by me. this is like my favorite dess ive ever written btw.

“December Mistletoe Holiday!” Carol’s voice rings out in the ensuing dead, empty silence. Dess’s voice catches in her throat, like she’s eighteen again and fighting with her mom about school, the future, her latest stint at the jail, her lack of interest in anything afterwards. “Hyacinth,” Dess says, and her voice is barely more than a whisper. “What?” Carol snaps. “Speak up, nobody can—” “Hyacinth,” she repeats. Louder, this time. Her voice never shook. “Dess Hyacinth. That’s my name. I’m not one of you.” This time, her mom does meet her glare. Dess certainly isn’t about to be the one to break first, and she isn’t, her mother finally saying, “well—whatever you have changed your name to—do you understand what you have done? What you have put all of us through? For nearly a decade, we thought you and Kris were dead.” “And I’d make it a decade more!” Except, fuck, she blinks first, even if her mother spoke. Dess grits her teeth. What right does her mom have, to still—she’s an adult, she isn’t bound by anything anymore. “Stop acting like you care, Mom! We both know that wasn’t ever true.” She laughs. Wonders what memories are drawn first to her mother’s head. Their screaming match when Dess first cut her hair short and jagged? The silent treatment that could last months? Dess, when she told her mother she had no plans to go to college, and left the room no matter how loudly she was lectured? “We both know,” Dess continues, voice dangerous, the sort of thing that would fit right into a schema, “that you were counting down the days you could be rid of me. And look!” She blinks. Are her eyes wet? “You went and got a whole new kid, to mold into the child you always wanted!”   “D—don’t be mean to Settia!” Noelle bursts out, literally out of nowhere, having not said much of all since they all started fighting in here. And Dess—laughs. At this little baby sister she gave up everything for, this girl who barely remembers her and is apparently siding with the replacement. “It…it never…asked for any of this to happen…” “Oh, really?” Dess says. “Well, newsflash, neither did I! I’ve been doing just fine before you all had to drag me into this!” Again, she can’t help but laugh. The fuck was the point of everything she’s been doing, if the very people she left for can’t be assed to care? “Noelle,” she says, stopping right next to Noelle’s chair, and her sister is bristling, eyes icy, not backing down. “Why do you care?” “B—because—” Noelle shakes herself, sucks in a breath. Dess would recognize someone steeling herself up anywhere. What she doesn’t expect are the words that come out of her sister’s mouth. “Because you aren’t my sister!” “Noelle,” Asriel says, before Dess can say anything, when she’s still staggering backwards. There must be a schemabeast in the room with her. She thinks it has clawed her through the heart. Noelle smacks Asriel’s hand away from her, pushes her chair back and stands from it. “I don’t know you!” she says. “I don’t know what’s going on! I—I hate all of this!” She turns an accusatory glare to Dess. “Why did you have to come back? I was finally figuring things out!!! I have friends and I was making up with Settia and trying to be better and—and—and—” She sniffs. Tears are building up in her eyes. And then, before any of them can say a single thing, she darts out of the room, to the front door, and is gone, leaving nothing behind but a loud slam and an emptier room.

and finally the most recent thing written for your heart. by me.

Poinsettia creeps into the living room, hesitating just before the couch. “…Noelle?” “You don’t want to sleep alone, right? And Mom and Toriel aren’t cutting it?” The couch is not the most comfortable place to sleep, but Poinsettia’s pretty small still—it at least should be fine. She pats the cushion next to her. “Well, if I try to sneak back into my room, I’ll probably just wake up Asriel. So I guess I have to sleep down here for the night.” Poinsettia says, “Asriel’s a really heavy sleeper.” “Is he?” It blinks. Watches her. She isn’t really sure what it is thinking—if it, like her, remembers all those times she’d turn away from it. All the days she spent in Castle Town, just so she wouldn’t have to look at it’s stupid human face. The same face looking at her right now. It crosses the gap and climbs up next to her on the couch. Doesn’t even leave any space between them. Just settles there right at her side, its tiny frame leaning into her own, pressing its face to her arm. “Thank you,” it squeaks out, ducking its head, and then, so fast she nearly misses it, as it squeezes her arm in something like a hug, “I love you Noelle.” Noelle’s pretty sure her entire life flashes before her eyes. Poinsettia is warm, so warm, already starting to drift off, its eyes fluttering shut as its grip on her slackens with sleep. This tiny human kid, falling asleep against her side; this tiny human kid terrorized by nightmares, falling asleep because she is there to watch over it. Angel fucking damn it. “Yeah,” Noelle says. Her voice catches, wet, in her throat, and she smears tears across her face. “…love you too, Settia.”

I HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE YOUR HEART SHOWCASE IF YOU CANT TELL UM. WE THINK ABOUT YOUR HEART A LOT.

[sixeyesonathiel]

THE ARCHIVE OF AFFECTION (AND OTHER CRIMES)

— ongoing case files, tooth-rotting exclusives, and other crimes against literary sanity. updates are irregular, but the delusion is consistent. read tags and descriptions on your own risk.

౨ৎ FRONT PAGE EXCLUSIVES .ᐟ

— red string of fate collection

౨ৎ HIGH-PROFILE CASES: LONG FICS .ᐟ

— free throws and figure drawings , told the nerd to film it and he exported inside me instead! , diet pepsi , a treatise on inconvenient attraction , the curious case of satoru gojo , in case of academic emergency, kiss me

౨ৎ ONGOING INVESTIGATIONS: SERIES .ᐟ

— a guide to ditching the world’s most persistent nerd! , love comes in small sizes , love thy neighbor , kill switch , wanted: dead or wed

౨ৎ LOCAL DISRUPTIONS: SHORT FICS .ᐟ

— roses bloom the prettiest in ruin , no one else needed to notice , all’s fair , love & war , wherever you want it, baby, i’m taking you there! , bet on blue , ivy , panopticon , illicit affairs , warmth waits here , skip me again and i’ll glitch your heart , shy girls suck the best , infinite void? more like infinite errands! , even softer than expected , co-parenting? no. co-pettying. , bite your tongue, i like it better bloody , call it first aid , you ever draw someone so hard you ride them? , your goddess loves you this much , something warm and golden , this love survives bad haircuts

౨ৎ PSYCHE PROFILE: SATORU GOJO .ᐟ

— rich boy roommate satoru , frat boy satoru , roommate satoru , clanhead satoru , pirate satoru , nerd satoru , academic rival satoru , sugar daddy satoru

౨ৎ OFF THE RECORD: DRABBLES .ᐟ

— satoru x oblivious reader , making satoru blush , satoru’s pint sized copy fails the quiz satoru helped him review , satoru being a tease , yandere satoru w/ servant reader , isekai’d game protag nerdjo x not so npc saintess reader , lost princess reader x etiquette teacher satoru , satoru ’helping’ you take a pregnancy test , satoru vs your period mood swings , temporarily genderbent satoru showing up on ur first date , satoru bakes cookies , magical girl reader x satoru , delulu & yearning nerdjo x shy reader , kid satoru and shikigami reader <- pt. 2 , pt. 3 , basketball player satoru drawing his artist girlfriend reader , childhood friend satoru carrying you so your socks don’t get wet , satoru accidentally tasting your mascara while comforting you , satoru and the five second rule , ragebaiting nerdjo , satoru taking too big of a bite on your cheeseburger , married off to the mysterious gojo heir , cowboy satoru saving you from bandits (you’re one of them) , brushing time with satoru , luxury shopping with satoru , male manipulator satoru and girl failure reader <- pt 2 , satoru and correction kink , soldier satoru and nurse reader , knight satoru and princess reader , photography club pres satoru and journalism club pres reader <- pt 2 , vampire satoru and gf reader <- him eating u out on ur period , love is war: divorce edition , i love you more competition with first year satoru , satoru overdoing it in his first date with you , so-called village guardian satoru and vampire reader , testing a sex toy while satoru watches, corruption + ntr w/ tutor satoru , a whisker away au

[luna-azzurra]

A Free E-book on Writing Characters That Feel Real

A year ago, I sat down to write this book. At first, it was just an idea, a fleeting thought that whispered, Hey, maybe you should do this. But if I’m being honest, the only reason it actually exists today is you.

You, who kept showing up. You, who kept asking questions, sharing your struggles, and pushing me to keep going when I wanted to throw my laptop out the window. You made me believe this book was worth writing. So here it is. And it’s completely free on Amazon, because I want you to have it.

Now, This isn’t your typical “Here’s how to write a character” manual that tells you to slap on a few traits and call it a day. No, we’re diving deep into the messy, complicated, and downright chaotic process of creating characters who feel real, the kind who make readers laugh, cry, and scream into the void when they suffer.

What you’ll find inside:

🔥 Backstory – Ever met someone whose past didn’t shape them? Me neither. What happened to your character before page one? What traumas, triumphs, or late-night existential crises made them who they are?

"So you mean I have to give my character trauma?" Yes. Or at least something that matters. Nobody wants to read about someone who just woke up one day and decided to be interesting.

🔥 Motivation & Goals – What do they want? More importantly, why? What’s driving them forward or holding them back?

"So, can I just say my character wants to save the world?" No. You need to know what’s underneath that. Do they want to save the world because they failed to save someone before? Because they crave approval? Because they feel powerless and this is their way of taking control? Go deeper.

🔥 Relationships – Nobody exists in a vacuum. Who do they love? Who do they hate? Who’s their worst enemy, and who’s the person they’d take a bullet for?

"But what if my character is a loner?" Cool, but even loners have people they avoid, people they secretly miss, and people who haunt them. Nobody is truly alone.

🔥 Character Arc – People change. Or they don’t and that says something too. How does your character evolve (or refuse to) over the course of your story?

"Can my character stay the same?" Sure, if you want to show the cost of not changing. But readers love growth, whether it’s for better or worse.

🔥 Personality, Voice & Expression – Strengths, flaws, quirks, habits, the little things that make them Human.

"Can I just give them a scar and call it depth?" No. A scar is cool, but why does it matter to them? Do they trace it when they’re nervous? Does it make them self-conscious? Does it remind them of a promise, a failure, a night they wish they could forget? The details mean nothing unless they mean everything.

This isn’t some dry, theoretical textbook. This is a no-BS, straight-to-the-heart guide to crafting characters that breathe, bleed, and break hearts—characters that matter.

📖 Get your free copy on Kindle now! (Here On Amazon!)

And seriously—thank you. This book wouldn’t exist without you. 💖✨

[sinner-as-saint]

we dance inside a burning room

Morpheus x Immortal!Reader au 

Summary: It happened so long ago. Your memory of it was blurry. Was it a wish come true? Was it a curse? Was it punishment? A boon, a bane? An experiment? Or was it simply the consequence of your hubris? Whatever it was, lifetimes ago, you stopped being entirely human. You could walk between realms, you stopped aging, and worse of all, you befriended the gods and cosmic beings you once prayed to. And after spending centuries beside them, always welcomed in their realms, always having a seat at their tables, you learned a thing or two about them. You learned that they were as kind and warm as they were selfish and cruel, more arrogant than some gods, and were always so ready to discard whoever they didn’t need anymore. Yet, you were still foolish enough to fall in love with one of them. You tried your hardest to forget Morpheus, thinking that if you simply distance yourself and try to erase him from your memory, that he would simply… go away. But one cannot just forget the Prince of Dreams that easily. Especially not after Morpheus suddenly shows up in the middle of your sex club. 

Themes: immortal!reader, dom/switch!reader , switch!morpheus, bratty!morpheus, mild bondage (because you know, the train scene), smut, lovers (?) to enemies to lovers (?), lowkey toxic!morpheus (he’d kind of a terrible ex to have, let’s be honest) 

He’d found you. 

You knew it the moment Morpheus stepped into the mortal realm with the intention of finding you. A weird, but familiar, shiver danced up and down your spine. He was here. You knew he was coming straight for you. He was on a hunt. You, the prey. There was one question bothering you though. Morpheus knew where you were this whole time, why come find you now? 

Deep down, you knew the answer. As bitter as the truth was, you knew the answer. Dream was heartbroken. Alone. So he was seeking that which is familiar, an old friend, anything that would stroke his ego and soothe his pain – something you had the habit of always doing, lifetimes ago – letting him know that he was still loveable. That he was not someone you could easily leave behind in the past. Cajoling him, uplifting his mood, there was a time when you’d do anything for him. Anything. But not now. 

Not anymore. 

You knew he was here, still you went about your day like it was just another one. Of course, like the nocturnal creature you’d become ever since opening your clubs all over the globe, your ‘day’ began after nine o’clock at night. 

You got ready and drove to the heart of the city, to your own little, salacious slice of heaven. Your clubs were everything to you. And you knew it meant a lot to your members as well. A safe place, a judgement free zone where they could meet others with similar tastes, kinks, and desires; where they could explore and experiment in a safe environment, where they could mingle and get away from their mundane lives. Where they could hide in the shadows and whisper their deepest, darkest secrets to people who would understand. 

The dark red interior, the dimmed scones on the walls, the private rooms… the sound of hushed voices, giggles and laughs, muffled moans and the energy in the air. Buzzing. Alive. Intense. 

But it all ceased. Everything stopped for you. The sounds, the excitement, that feeling of utter belonging – it all stopped the moment you caught a pair of painfully familiar dark eyes. In the sea of red decor, dark shadows, soft dim lights, Morpheus both stood out and blended in at the same time. 

Morpheus, darkness personified. With ridiculous soft lips and yearning in his eyes. He carried himself like a king, like an old god. “There you are.” His calm, steady words both soothed and irritated an old wound. He sounded relieved. 

“Dream.” You whispered, your voice void of all emotions. You always thought you’d have so much to tell him when you’d see him again. So much hate. So many harsh words to throw at his arrogant face. But this was all you could utter in the moment. Just his name. Nothing else. 

He stepped closer, ignoring the people scattered about around you like they never existed. This was how he was. How he always was. Long ago, you were too blind to see it. To blind to see how he treated others because all that mattered was how he treated you. Until, it was your turn to be discarded like an unwanted toy by a petulant child. Only then did you see him for who he was. 

Yet, even now, you hated how fast your heart began racing the moment he stepped closer to you. The moment he took up all the space in front of you. When all you could see, hear, smell, and feel was him. You hated how your body reacted to him. Even now, even so many lifetimes later. You hated feeling that sense of belonging. That feeling of puzzle pieces slotting back into the right place. 

“This is not where I thought I’d find you.” He said. “You look different.” His eyes lowered, roaming all over your body. 

You watched him as he took you in. You knew exactly why he had that look on his face. That betrayed look. Because you looked good, in your little, lacy red dress. Your dark red undergarments very much visible. Your outfit didn’t leave much to the imagination. Except this time around, you weren’t dressed up for him. Anyone who walked by could see you. Could want you. You weren’t his anymore. You watched him realise this. And Morpheus had always been jealous. 

He continued, “The last time I saw you–,” 

You couldn’t help but scoff and cut him off. “Do you even remember when that was? The last time you saw me?” 

The surprised look on his face told you that he wasn’t expecting this tone from you. This defiance. This boldness. So he frowned and said, stepping even closer, “Need I remind you that you chose to come and hide in the mortal realm?” 

“It’s not hiding if you knew where I was the whole time, Dream.” You reminded him. You knew. He knew. Everyone fucking knew where you were. “Why are you here?” You taunted, for a moment you forgot what he was capable of and carried on goading him. “I take it she left you for good then, Nada? And now you need to prove to yourself and everyone else that you’re still loveable, so you’ve come to find me?” You chuckled, dryly. “I’m not who I used to be, Morpheus. I won’t be your little toy. That vicious cycle, that push and pull, those games… It's all over. I won’t fall for it, for you. Not this time.” 

“I can see that.” He hissed. 

“Oh good then.” You rolled your eyes, sighing, “I was wondering if I’d have to kick you out or if you’d get the memo and–,” 

“Come back to me.” It was his turn to surprise you. His voice firm, and cold. “It’s never been the same without you. Everyone misses you.” He said. “I miss you.” 

Everyone misses you… your friends. You hadn’t thought about them in a long time. You felt a strange weight on your chest upon remembering your time with The Endless. The fun, the laughs, the parties, the pranks. 

“Go away, Dream.” You sounded tired. 

But Dream didn’t move. “I won’t leave without you.” It sounded like he had his mind made up. 

“Oh?” You taunted him again. “So now you need me? Now that Nada has left you? Now that you’re all alone again? Now you want your little toy back?” 

Your tone was so condescending and insulting that Morpheus visibly flinched. Again, not expecting it. Not from you. How could he? You used to be so obedient. His most well-behaved little plaything. 

He was careful when he spoke next. His voice just as steady as earlier, but colder, deeper. His cadence slower when he said, “It was her departure that brought me back to my senses. Nada was the forbidden fruit I was never meant nor allowed to have. And she left, rightfully so, because I gave her hell.” Literally. “But you,” He paused, “You were always mine. And I was to blind to see it. I cannot escape you. I’ve tried everything. I cannot let you go.” 

You had to laugh in his face. He looked offended, pissed off, and guilty all at once. 

“Truly,” Your laughter ended with giggles, "I had forgotten, and frankly I’ve missed, your theatrics.” You gave him a fake smile and said, “Leave,” You told him, “Surely this place isn’t suitable for you, my Lord.” You added, “Desire would adore this place though. They’ve always been much more fun and just better than you in every way.” You knew exactly how tense Dream and Desire’s bond was. “Go back to your castle, Morpheus, and craft away your precious dreams and nightmares. And maybe think about what you did while brooding.” 

“Careful.” He warned. 

That pissed you off. “Why? You get to be selfish, and cruel, and heartless. But I must be careful?” 

A slow blink, then he said, “You don’t belong here. Not anymore. You’ve forgotten who you are, you were almost a god once, do you remember?” 

“Don’t patronise me!” You hissed, leaning in just a little, really getting in his face to say, “I was always “almost” everything, wasn’t I, Dream? Almost perfect. Almost yours. Always, almost. But I was never good enough for you, was I?” 

“You’re angry.” Was all he said. 

“Yes, I am fucking angry.” You refused to look away from his eyes, no matter how intense his stare got. 

“Tell me how to make it better.” 

“Leave. Go away. And never, ever come back here.” 

Morpheus sighed, “And leave you alone here? In this… place?” 

You get defensive. “It’s my club. What’s the issue?” 

“This isn’t you.” He argued. 

“Oh stop it, Dream.” You almost laughed again. “Stop acting like you know me.”  

“But I do know you.” He argued in that calm, collected, annoying way of his. “I have known you for so long. You’re my oldest friend. I have known you for so long I barely remember what it was like before you. It’s almost as if… there never was a before you.” 

You scoffed. “Always so dramatic, Dream.” 

“I know I’ve hurt you. I abandoned you. I never checked in. I thought…” He closed his eyes and sighed, like it pained him to say it. “I thought you were better off without me.” 

“No,” You corrected him, “You discarded me like I was something you had no use for anymore.” 

It angered him when you threw the truth in his face. “I never asked you to leave, I never kicked you out–,” 

“You didn’t have to!” You raised your voice a little, not that it made a difference. The music, the sound of glasses clinking, the sound of laughter and soft conversations all around you concealed your anger. “It was… understood that I was nothing other than a distraction.” 

“No.” He began, “I thought you–,” 

“Oh that’s your problem, Dream. You think you know everything.” You shook your head and tried to leave, but Morpheus grabbed you by the wrist and pulled you into him. “Don’t.” You said, “Don’t do this.” 

“I need you back.” He repeated his words from earlier, his one hand tightly wrapped around your wrist while his other arm wrapped around your waist, keeping your body pressed against his. 

For a moment, only for a moment you felt like you could so easily give in. His warmth, the intensity in his stare, his lean body… you almost gave in. But you quickly recovered, “It doesn’t work like that. Not here. Not anymore. You don’t make the rules here.” 

“Then make them.” He offered. “Make your rules, punish me. Use me. Take whatever you want. Hurt me, if you must. But please forgive me. And come back to me.” 

You didn’t know how it happened, but you weren’t thinking straight. And next thing you knew, your hand was firmly wrapped around his delicate neck, you squeezed just enough to surprise him yet again. “Stop telling me what to do, Morpheus.” You whispered, your voice darker than you expected. 

His hand released your other wrist immediately, almost as if in shock. “Fine.” He swallowed, whispering, “I won’t.” He was breathing heavier, you could also feel his pulse quicken. 

Could it be…? 

“You want to be forgiven?” 

“Yes.” He answered quickly, a softer look in his eyes. 

“You’re gonna have to earn it, Dream.” You knew exactly how much that would hurt his ego. He was Dream of The Endless. The Lord of The Dreaming. One of the most powerful cosmic beings to ever exist. 

Surely he wouldn’t– 

“I’ll do anything for you.” He said, surprising you yet again. “Anything.” He sounded breathless. 

— 

Finding your way to your private room was easy, and Morpheus followed you without any word said. 

And upon entering, you tried to visualise the room through his eyes. It was so obvious that this was your playroom. And he could tell. And he wasn’t entirely happy about it. You could almost hear the questions he asked himself mentally. 

Who else had you had here? Who else had touched you? How many times? Did you like it? Were they good to you? Were they better than him? 

Even as you shut the door behind you and faced him, he was so quiet – not in control for once. His unanswered questions bothered him. You could tell because he looked at you like you’d betrayed him. Like you were the one causing him pain. His stare was accusatory. You almost smirked at the thought. 

“We’ve played these games before, haven’t we?” 

“We have.” He answered, probably also thinking back to all those hours you’d spent in his bed. Always his to play with. Always ready. Always eager. 

“And you know the rules.” 

“I do.” 

You advanced towards him. “Just one little difference this time around, you are not in charge. You understand, Dream?” 

“Yes.” He stood so perfectly still, it was like he was not here at all. But he was. And he was powerful enough to leave whenever he wanted. You both knew that. The fact that he chose to still be here… it meant something. 

But you refused to give in. Not yet. So you just said, “Good.” 

He was surprised, and slightly disoriented as you led him to the soft bed and pushed him down. You climbed on top of him. You settled comfortably, your legs around his lean waist, your dress barely covering your body but neither one of you cared. 

Morpheus looked up at you with nothing but surprise, adoration, and lust. “I’ve missed you.” He murmured, as you leaned down to gently brush your lips with his. He gasped, surprised and maybe overwhelmed. His hands immediately rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. Like an old habit of his. 

“It’s funny how everyone says the same thing whenever I bring them in here and get on top of them.” You whispered, your lips brushing with his ever so gently. 

A pause. He processed, then got angry. His grip tightened as he grabbed you by the hips. “How dare you let someone else touch what’s–,” 

“Shh,” You cut him off, pulling away a little to look down at him. “Watch your tone.” You said, sternly. Morpheus tried reaching up to press his lips to yours, but you pulled away really quickly. “So bratty, Dream.” You smirked. “For someone so powerful, you’ve always been so bratty. I wonder why no one’s ever punished you for it.” 

He scoffed. “I wonder.” He taunted, his tone as pompous as always. Dream did like to gloat. 

“Drop the attitude, Dream. Else I will do something about it. And you won’t like it.” 

Morpheus smirked, with you still straddling him, your core pressing down on his crotch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” He sassed. 

Ah. Yes. He always did underestimate everyone else. You reached out and slowly traced his mouth with your finger. You spoke softly when you did. “I’ll shut your bratty mouth up. That’s what I’m gonna do.” You promised.

And there it was again. That defiance in his stare. The hunger, the lust. And the mischief as he looked up at you. You could feel his muscles tensing underneath you. You smirked when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your almost naked body on top of his. At least some things remained the same. 

“You need to learn how to not be such an arrogant fuck sometimes.” You trailed your fingertips down and back up his slender neck, making him squirm just a little as you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look you in the eyes. “Need to learn how to be less of an entitled prick.” 

Morpheus was pleasantly surprised. “There was a time you’d tell me I was perfect. That I was everything you ever wanted.” 

“I was an idiot, clearly.” 

That smirk on his pretty lips annoyed you. “No.” He dared argue, touching you wherever he could. “You were mine. You were happy. With me, by my side. Where you belong. You left and now look at what’s happened. You’ve gotten–” 

“You talk too much.” Without another word said, you grabbed both his hands and pulled them away from your body and pinned both of his wrists above his head, down on the pillows. “And keep your hands there.” You ordered. “Don’t touch me.” 

But as expected, Morpheus didn’t listen. He wasn’t used to being ordered around. So he moved his hands back on you, pulling you closer and caressing your skin. He just needed to touch you. 

But you were running out of patience. You grabbed both his hands and pinned them above his head again. “I said, keep them there.” You said slowly, in a strict voice.

He smirked at first, but upon seeing that you were reaching for the silky black ropes on the small bedside table, his smile faded at once. “You won’t dare–,” 

You chuckled, “Oh, Dream. You keep forgetting the rules.” Maybe it’s because he was in shock or maybe he finally surrendered, because he didn’t struggle as you carefully tied his wrists together. He just looked up at you with those eyes, and pouty mouth. The cool, silky rope glided against his skin. You secured his wrists to the metal headboard. 

Once done, you pulled away to get a good look at him, beneath you, tied up and pink, soft lips parted as he awaited what’s next. You smirked at how he gave you his best tortured, teary, puppy dog eyes. “There, now stay still. I don’t have much time, my… friends out there must be waiting for me.” You said, making him even more furious. One thing about Morpheus, he did not like not being a priority. Plus, you made this sound like a chore. 

He clenched his jaw.  

You felt a sudden rush at the mere thought of having him like this. Completely at your mercy. Of course, he could get out of the weak knots you tied him with in the blink of an eye. But the realization of how he chose to play along and be there, all for you to play with, filled you with pride. 

Morpheus’s face was flushed, and you could tell he was flustered and hot and bothered already – and you had barely touched him yet. “You think you can always have your way, don’t you, Dream?” Your voice barely above a whisper as you beckoned that power from deep inside you. 

After spending centuries beside the Endless and other gods, you’d learned a thing or two. You had no powers as destructive as the ones the Endless had, but magic could still be learned. And given you were no longer fully human, it came easily to you. So you perfected it. 

A wave of your hand and you were both naked, warm skin pressing against one another. Hearts racing, because while you had done this before, you’d never taken control in bed with Morpheus. And while it was a long time coming, it was still new. 

But, he deserved this. To be messed with and for once, not calling the shots. So you ignored the doubts and did what you did best. 

You put on a show. 

You settled on his right thigh. His warm, smooth skin pressing against your bare, wet core. You rolled your hips gently against his thigh and you felt the familiar tingle dance down your spine. “Fuck…” 

Morpheus watched you ride his thigh slowly, lips parted, his cock beginning to throb and leak. He knew then that this was going to be a long, hard night for him.

“You will regret this.” He said, sounding a little out of breath. His voice deeper somehow. 

You chuckled, pressing both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him right where he needed you as you worked to get yourself off by humping his thigh. “Oh, will I?” 

You were leaving behind a damp patch on his skin, breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you made yourself come. 

He watched how your soft moans got louder and how you humped his thigh faster, getting higher… and higher… you tilted your head back, purposely putting on a show just for him. “Oh,” You gasped, “Morpheus…” 

“You’re cruel.” He groaned when you whined wantonly, and he gently lifted his thigh – pressing further into your clit. He felt your wetness smearing all over his skin and he hopelessly wanted a taste. “Let me touch you.” 

“No.” 

Morpheus’s cock was leaking by the time you came undone above him, leaving him still hard and throbbing.  

“Let me…” he murmured as he watched you come down from your high. He was desperate, and hungry and he just wanted you wrapped around him. He needed to feel you, and your warmth. “I–,” 

You cut him off quickly, “Don’t make me gag you, Morpheus.” You chuckled as you slowed down and finally came to a stop, still straddling his thigh. “Let me…,” You mimicked in a voice that was sure to annoy him. “Let me touch you.” You mocked him, chuckling. “Such a brat. You’ve never known patience, or learned how to ask nicely, have you?” You smirked again, leaning in to trace his lips with your tongue, kissing the corners of his mouth. “You always just take whatever you want. You never ask, you never wait. You just take, and take, and take.” 

You gave him a brief kiss before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. He almost hissed and whimpered as he closed his eyes and gasped, relishing your touch. He felt nice and hard, and big. 

“Not so scary and mean now, are you, Dream?” You lazily stroked his length, up and down. “All tied up and helpless in my bed.” Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin feverishly, leaving your marks behind as you bit and sucked around the base of his throat, making him shudder in pleasure and moan quietly. 

A soft chuckle left his lips. “Go ahead,” He spoke again, clearly not understanding your previous threat. Hence the condescending tone. “Use me and have your little fun, pet.” He tilted his head back, exposing his throat. 

You froze. That damned nickname. Then you pulled away to look down at him. The arrogance in his eyes was back now that the surprise had vanished. And you had to do something about that, didn’t you? 

“Oh, Dream.” You said, reaching for the nearest piece of clothing you could find. Your lacy, dark red underwear from earlier. How perfect. You held back a giggle as you balled it up and shoved it in his mouth before he could process it. And he allowed it. “I did warn you about keeping your mouth shut, didn’t I?” 

It was rare to see Morpheus so… defeated. So… submissive. You placed your palm over his stuffed mouth and said, “Now that you won’t interrupt my fun, where were we?” 

His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you resumed touching him, your hand moving carefully up and down his cock. His whines were now muffled. His face in a pleasurable frown. He was… quite a sight to behold. Dream has always been so… heavenly to look at. 

Morpheus opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock up into your fist but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of him. 

“Don’t even try, Dream.” You glared at him. 

So he didn’t do anything except let you toy with him however you liked. Morpheus, arrogant Morpheus, was quiet for once. 

You chuckled each time you felt him twitch under you. You smirked as you brought him right on the edge, the sound of music from the main area of the club reached your room but it was muffled, as were Morpheus’ moans and groans. He was painfully hard and throbbing and desperate. You leaned down to kiss him on his hip bones, gentle kisses at first, which turned into greedy nips and bites until you heard him groan even more. 

Without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. You placed your mouth on his tip, your tongue slowly circling his tip before you sucked him in. 

Morpheus was a mess as you took him in until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, red fabric obediently stuffed into his mouth, his lips parted as he tilted his head back. 

He looked godly, even when he was tied up and powerless. 

The muffled gasps and moans which escaped his lips as he squirmed made you smirk. It only made you want to tease him even more, and keep him on the edge. It made you feel even more powerful than usual. 

Morpheus relished the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, perfect like he had dreamt of so often over the past many, many years. 

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction just yet. You took him out of your mouth, licking his cock from bottom to top. Morpheus moaned, the sounds he made were weak and desperate. And so unlike The Dream King. 

He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit of his tip lazily. You chuckled as he tried thrusting his hips up, hoping that you would stop messing with him already. Your ability of bringing him right to the edge and mercilessly keeping him there for as long as you wished to was driving him insane.

And he could break out of the bondage anytime. He knew that. You knew that. And yet, there he remained. 

All for you to play with. 

But while you desperately wanted to, you couldn’t play all night. You had your club to look after, and you had Morpheus to kick out when you were done with him. Maybe then he’d know what it’s like to be discarded once you were no longer useful. 

Morpheus lost all self-control the moment you sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him, making him groan in pleasure and sensitivity. 

You leaned in, not quite moving like how he wanted you to just yet, and caressed his pretty face, looking him deep in his pretty eyes as you took the now wet fabric out of his mouth and replaced it with three of your fingers. Sliding them gently across his tongue, in and out in slow strokes. 

Morpheus gasped, his warm breath sending shivers along your arm while you rocked your hips against his. He was quite a sight, lean body, strong, and handsome but tied to your bed. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked, moving against him perfectly, feeling him somehow get harder inside you. 

He nodded, applying just the slightest bit of suction to your fingers. You slid them deeper, messing with him. Testing. Teasing. Owning. 

You kept moving, so slowly that it was agonising even for you. And then just when you felt him twitch inside you, you lifted your hips up and pulled him out of you. You watched as he almost whined. Wild eyes, gasping for air, he was not used to this. Not used to being the one begging for someone to touch him. Just touch him. Make the pain go away. Make it feel good, please… 

“Come on,” You already knew what he was thinking. “Ask nicely, Dream.” You teased. “I don’t have all night.” You added, purposely reminding him that you’d built a life without him. “Beg me. Beg for it.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth, lips hovering above his parted ones. You removed your fingers and leaned in to kiss his wet, warm, open mouth ravenously. “Beg me to give you what you want.” 

“Please… I need you.” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. But you heard it. His desperation was quite clear. And he was so sensitive, from all that teasing, that once you started riding him again, he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your movements. 

But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it. 

“Yes,” You gasped, “This is familiar isn’t it, Dream?” 

At some point, he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you, messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. But you wanted more, you wanted to hear him whine some more, you wanted to hear how desperate he could get. 

You messed with him for as long as you could, and Morpheus got loud, very loud, growling as you teased him, and whining your name whenever you kept him on the edge for too long. Begging constantly… please, please, please. 

You alternated between having him in your mouth and riding his cock, and there was nothing else he could focus on in that moment. 

Just you. Only you. He was yours, yours to toy with and tease, yours to use as you pleased.

“Haven’t you tortured me enough?” He asked, breathless and sensitive. 

“Is it? Is it enough?” You taunted. “Do you have any idea what it was like being away from you?” Your voice cracked. “You don’t. You were busy while I was here licking my fucking wounds. Wounds I got while thinking I could ever be worthy of your love.” 

“But I’m back. And I’m not leaving this time.” 

“Yes you are.” You admitted. “You will leave the moment I’m done with you and you will never come back in my life, you hear me?” 

Your walls clenched around him, gripping him and milking him perfectly. He was completely gone, begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. Once, twice. 

His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast. 

“Please,” He begged one more time. 

You made him come again, then finally, you came right after. Both of you gasping for air. The room felt warmer, your head felt cloudy. You calmed your racing heart then grabbed him by the jaw and looked deep into his eyes while you spoke, bitterly. His hands were still tied, and they were itching to just reach out and touch you. “You don’t get to just walk in here and want me back.” 

Morpheus simply said, “But you are mine.” He argued, his voice growly like he was losing patience. 

“What kind of fucked up logic is this, Dream?” You could see how he was gasping for air, how he was unsure of what you intended to do next. So you left him guessing for as long as you could. “You and I were always like this, weren’t we? Too much. Not enough. Always crossing lines and boundaries, trapped in that vicious cycle because we couldn’t get enough of each other.” 

“Let me fix us. Come back to me. It will be different this time. I promise you. I will be yours, wholeheartedly.” 

You smiled. “No.” 

You went to get up and get out of bed. 

But everything happened all at once. Morpheus got his wrists free from the rope with efforts so minimal you gasped in shock. He reached for you, grabbed you and pulled you back in bed so quickly that you barely had time to form a thought. 

Next thing you knew, you were lying on your stomach with Morpheus’ hard, warm, lithe body on top of you, his chest pressing into your back, his hands holding you firmly. And his chuckle echoing inside your head. 

“Had your fun, little one?” He asked, keeping you trapped in his grip. “Are you done? Hmm? Are you done showing off? Are you done proving your point? Are you done punishing me for what I did? Are you done pretending you’re in control?” 

“Dream…” You gasped, feeling his hand finding its way in between your legs. And you whimpered at the feeling of his fingers touching your sensitive clit. Teasing it relentlessly as he spoke. 

He scoffed. “What? Did you think you’d tease and taunt me however you’d like and you’d simply get away with it?” He chuckled, “Oh, little pet.” His voice alone sent shivers down your spine. “I suppose it’s time to remind you who truly makes the rules when it comes to you and I…” And just like that, that vicious cycle started all over again. It wasn’t over. It would never be over.

[daegall]

☆ when the candles burn out.

➷ Jeno Lee has everything he's wished for, except for you.

pairing: best friend!jeno x (implied fem!) reader

genre: bff2l!AU (WE R SOOO BACK), birthday!AU, university!AU, fluff, slight angst

warnings: none, but feel free to lmk if you find any

word count: 2.6k words

a/n: happies birthday to the (officially titled!) birthday boyyy!!! wishing him the very very best and hope that he knows we're so proud of him and love him sooo much!!!! I've missed writing sm so this was soo fun to make!! sorry if i've been super inactive, i've still got a lot to do before graduation ♡ i hope you all enjoy!!!

If he was asked, Jeno would say his life is very fulfilling, and that he's completely satisfied with it. How could he say any differently? He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends and a steady side job to support himself. He shouldn't be complaining.

But he's lying to himself. He knows he feels empty inside. And he knows what could fill that void.

It's you.

Jeno always felt he was missing something—he figured he would fix it later in life. He never knew it would hurt this much, he never knew it would be this hard to fix it. Frankly, he wishes it was something else that would be the glue to fix everything in his life.

It's not that Jeno hated you, no, he loved you. So dearly—he's never ever felt anything so intense in his life. Every time he looked at you, it was like he was reading his favorite book, unable to peel his eyes off the pages. Every time he heard your voice, it was like listening to the soft chirping of birds in the morning—the breeze in the afternoon—the comforting sounds of the bustling city in the evening. And when you touched him, a hug, or even something as simple as a high-five, it's as if you're a fireplace in winter, keeping him warm, inside and out.

God, he wanted you. Bad. Jeno never know one could yearn so deeply. He was never one good with words, but you make him want to write thousands of poems and sing melodies dedicated just to you.

The echoing questions that all his friends constantly ask him haunt him.

'Why don't you tell her?'

'She doesn't know yet?'

'What's the worst that could happen?'

'Why are you so scared?'

That's what Donghyuck always asks him. Jeno can't begin to tell him, he doesn't know where to start, Donghyuck wouldn't understand the turmoil he feels.

Jeno's scared that he's not what you expect. That you have a completely different vision of him than who he actually is. Jeno thinks you need someone who is able to love you loudly, who isn't afraid to give you everything that you not only need, but want, too. Jeno is sure that he's not your ideal man.

Today's his birthday. 25th. He knows because Jaemin greets him the very first this morning, calling him 'halfway-50 year old'. Jeno only rolls his eyes at his usual strange antics, pushing him out of the way of the fridge to grab his yogurt from the fridge.

When Jeno checks his phone, he realizes that Jaemin isn't the first one to say happy birthday. He finds out with a mouthful of yogurt, and a heart full of love, that it was you. On April 23, military time 00:12, you left a long paragraph wishing him a happy birthday, thanking him for everything and for being a great friend, and wishes of love and luck.

"Friends don't send birthday messages that long."

Jeno barely catches on that Jaemin is shamelessly peeking at his phone, throwing him a pointed look. "Maybe she does."

Jaemin's eyebrows raise—a deadpanned look. "She sent me a sentence on my birthday. At 5pm."

"That's cause you gifted her a giftcard for her birthday."

"That's what friends do!" Jaemin retorts. "You gifted her animal crossing—that shit's expensive!"

Jeno has to admit, he's right. About one thing. Friends don't send an essay's worth of a birthday message.

Okay, yeah, saving up for animal crossing for you took some time, but Jeno would do anything for you. And he means everything.

Like meeting up at your place for a birthday celebration with others. He would much rather spend it with only you, but that doesn't seem to be an option, considering how you love to make a huge deal about his birthday every year.

Now here he stands, at your door, knowing full well that you've planned some 'surprise' party. Despite that, he'll still pretend to be shocked—just to make you happy.

Jeno only needs to wait about 3 seconds right after he knocks, before the door swings open, the music inside finally distinguishable and—oh, it's... you. Just you.

Nobody else is seen behind you in your apartment, the familiar living area he recognizes so easily dimmed with a low, warm light, the walls filled with handing streamers of red and green—his favorite colors.

Jeno's heart has never swelled this much with love, his head has never been so clear and unbelievably messy at the same time, his practiced surprised smile completely fading in an expression of shock, his jaw hanging lightly.

"Hello, birthday boy," You grin. God, Jeno might kiss you.

The way you can't seem to stay still in excitement, the anticipation on your face and the way you wear his sweater, something he's definitely left accidentally somewhere inside there—he adores it all.

He never thought his feelings could get even more eager and heartfelt, and yet here he is, feeling it tenfold right in his heart.

"Come in," You smile, grabbing and tugging at his sleeve gently.

You want to laugh at his surprised expression, your excited smile falling shy. "Surprise! I bet you thought it was like all the surprise parties I hosted, huh?"

Jeno should have seen it coming. The fact that you saw through him almost immediately. A soft huff of a laugh leaves his lips as he nods, growing more comfortable as he ventures deeper into the surprise. His eyes trail over the streamers reflecting the warm light from your lamp, his gratitude growing almost unbearable.

Finally, his eyes land on the cake. Unlike the usual ordered or store-bought cake you make Mark Lee get every year for the party, it's sloppy, and it's clear that you made it yourself. The icing barely covers the full surface of the cake, leaving blank, splotchy spots along the cake.

"I tried my best," You comment, noticing his gaze on your cake. You really did, practicing some nights and watching multiple videos to find the best recipe to use.

Jeno grins even more his gaze shifting to you. If you weren't mistaken... he looks at you differently. Well, he looks at you as he always does, with a twinkle in his eyes and with utmost attentiveness, but tonight... it's different.

You think—and this is a big assumption—that he's looking at you with love. You could only dream that he would admit it.

"I love it," He reassures, slowly approaching you. "thank you, Y/N, I love everything about this."

Your cheeks feel sore from all the smiling, but you can't seem to stop smiling, pulling him into a hug, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders. "I'm glad. You deserve the best, Jeno."

Jeno holds you tight, his nose burying into the depths of your hair, eyes shutting to savor the moment as long as possible. His hands are warm, you can feel it through his sweater that you wear, one hand on your lower back, the other between your shoulder blades.

It's as if his hands have burnt through the fabric, because you feel every single movement his hands make. The way his thumbs rub gently up and down—the way his palms tensing up as he holds you closer—this feels better than it should.

When you pull away, the warmth finds it's way to your heart, beating faster suddenly and soaring, as if it was searching for his own to entangle in.

When you lead him to the couch to finally blow out the candles (with he candles now about a third of it's original height), Jeno has never felt happier, leaning in close to the cake.

He laughs when you suddenly panic, halting him to search for your camera.

"Why do you even need to film this?" He chuckles softly, it's a rich sound you find yourself enjoying more than you should.

You roll your eyes, finding the camera on your messy study desk, hidden behind a stack of books you never seem to finish reading. "To remember this! I want to look back on this when I'm eighty and reminisce like a stubborn old lady."

When Jeno blows out his candles after an awkward minute of you singing him 'happy birthday' by yourself, he finds himself wishing that you'd be a stubborn old lady with him. He wishes with his whole heart that he'd be there, reminiscing with you, that'd your grandchildren would be gagging at your love story, he wants to spend the rest of his life with you.

Jeno gives you the first slice of the cake, despite your protests, handing it to you with a stern look. His heart melts when you take it from his hands, a small playful scowl on your lips. "I wanted you to taste it first..."

"Fine," He sighs, picking up the two forks you prepared. "we'll eat it together, yeah?"

Jeno dismisses your objections, already stabbing the forks into the cake and scooping it up. He laughs heartily when your words die in your throat, offering the fork to you.

You stare at the piece of cake on your fork with intent. "If it tastes like shit, I'm sorry,"

Even if it did, he'd pretend it was the most delectable delicacy he'd ever eaten. He would believe so, with his whole being. Even if it was bad, your stunning smile would be sweet enough for it to substitute the taste.

You're surprised when Jeno brings his own fork up to your lips, blinking in shock. When you look up at him, he gives you an encouraging look. "I'll feed you, you'll feed me."

You don't think he's aware of how intimate this is. Not when he's looking at you with such innocence and care. But with the dim, warm lighting from the distant lamp, and the music that still plays softly in the background, this feels too romantic—too real.

You go along with it anyway, knowing that you'd do anything and everything for him.

As your lips come in contact with the cake, and your teeth clash just slightly with the metal of the fork, you realize the strawberry jam you used for each layer—it's sour.

Instantly, you gaze up at Jeno, to gauge his reaction and his opinion of your cake, only to see that his mouth is closed, lips stretched into a soft, loving smile as his face his dodged from your fork.

"Jeno, you—how could you!"

In a moment, both forks are on the ground as you lunge forward to grab at his shirt. On your lips is an embarrassed smile, your eyes shut as you shake him back and forth. "You ass! I made this for you..."

"Sorry, sorry!" Jeno laughs, his hands enveloping yours, holding on top of them as you continue to shake him. "You just looked so cute—all anticipated and excited,"

"Yeah! For you to taste it!"

"Fine, fine! I'll taste it! Just stop shaking me!"

When you scowl and release his collar, his hands don't leave yours, instead, he takes your hands in his, his fingers slotting almost perfectly between yours with ease. You don't shy away from this, it's normal for him to do this. It's a typical tactic he uses so you don't start fooling around once more—but this time... it feels different. His touch seems gentler, his thumbs rubbing softly up and down the sides of your palm. You have to admit, it has your heart in a twist.

"How are you going to try it if you keep holding my hands?" You smart him, sticking your tongue out at him.

Jeno's eyes search yours, his gaze deep. It's almost as if he's trying to look into your soul—trying to find the place you keep the thought of him. He should look into your heart, then.

His right hand suddenly leaves yours, and just as you think he's about to grab the fork once more, his hand inches towards your face. You don't dodge it, despite your shock, your lips parting in surprise, and Jeno knows that he's interrupted one of your sassy, smart retorts that he loves so much.

It's like instinct when his palm envelops your cheek, that you lean into his touch, your head tilting into his hold. As his thumbs rub at your cheek, his eyes search your entire face, searching for any signs of discomfort or rejection. He searches, and keeps searching, only to find nothing. You want this. As much as he does.

"...so are you going to try the cake?"

"Give me a minute, you dork,"

You laugh, and he laughs when you laugh. Your laughter entangle in the air and echo, like a resonating song on repeat—the kind that no matter how many times you play over and over, you never get sick of it.

Suddenly, Jeno's nose is brushing against yours. His thumb gently caressing at your bottom lip. He searches your eyes once more, and at this proximity, he can finally tell what you feel. In your eyes, it's him. In his eyes, it's you. In your heart, is his. In his soul, is yours.

The tender exchange of affectionate looks screams only one thing.

I love you.

When Jeno's lips press to yours, you're not surprised. Instead, you welcome it warmly, reciprocating and leaning into it.

His hands travel, one to your neck, the other your waist to tug you closer. Your own find comfort in the hairs of the bottom of his neck, tousling the strands there. You feel his lips curl into a smile, as his neck cranes to find an angle to grow closer to you, if it were possible.

Jeno slowly and gently lowers you to your back, his hand protecting the back of your head as he settles you down on your carpet, hovering over your body. As your arms wrap around his neck, his tongue finds yours, tangling tenderly and lovingly, declaring his care and affection, all his feelings for you.

You smile against his lips as Jeno's laugh vibrates against your own, content and devoted, finding the whole situation unbelievable. Luck truly is in his favor, and he thinks he's one step closer to his birthday wish coming true.

When Jeno pulls away, his breath is warm against your lips, the tip of his nose grazing against yours.

"...tastes sweet," He finally elates, smiling. His eyes find yours, pupils dilated with love.

You laugh out, eyes squeezed shut, and head throwing back against his hand that still holds you protectively. You snort when he gives you a confused, almost lost puppy-like look. "The cake jam was sour, Jeno,"

"Oh," he hums. "must've just been you I was tasting, then..."

You push playfully at his shoulder. "Oh my god, you sappy idiot!"

"No, no," He retorts with a grin. "you taste sweet. I didn't get a single taste of sour,"

"Taste the cake, then!"

"Don't wanna, just want you,"

Despite his words, you make him taste the cake, laughing as his nose scrunches up. "It's—oh god—it's sweet! I swear!" He insists.

Finally, Jeno feels complete. He no longer feels an empty void inside of him, he no longer feels lonely or hurt when he looks at you—though he does feel his heart hurt, swelling with the amount of love he has for you. He can finally say wholeheartedly that he's satisfied with his life, that he feels fulfilled.

He's doing really well in University, he's got amazing friends, the best girlfriend he could ask for, and a steady side job to support himself and his girl, you.

Jeno is dead set on making his birthday wish come true.

[jeondesu]

ೀ⋆ 🍂 LOVE ME HARDER !

── ✧ ˚. ꒰ 𝓹airing ꒱ ˒˓ idol!han jisung x f!reader ˒˓ established relationship 𝓰enre/𝓽ags. fluff, a bit angsty in the beginning but fizzles out quickly, kissing, semi-suggestive but nothing explicit, reader is implied to be shorter than jisung, 𝔀ords. 2.0k

[ 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆. ] — i had originally wrote this on my old blog for taehyung but i rewrote some parts and made it a little better. let me know what you think <3 pls feel free to reblog/leave a nice comment, it always helps me out ヽ(>∀<☆)ノ

𝓼ong 𝓲nspo: love me harder by ariana grande

Lazy Sundays were your favorite day of the week for a good reason. One of them being that you got most stuff done on Sundays as you felt more in a productive spirit. It became your ritual, dedicating the day to deep cleaning your room, tackling piles of laundry, and tending to the much needed self-care you so often neglected during the week.

You lightly hum as soft lofi music played in the background while dusting off your pretty antiques and fold your clothes. Time slipped through your fingers like silk, the afternoon fading before you could fully grasp it. By the time everything was in it’s place, you felt that familiar ache of burnout settling into your bones.

Jisung was supposed to come over today but he hasn’t texted you back in hours— you were almost positive by the time you were done he would’ve texted you but nope. No text. No call. Pure radio silence.

You kept checking your phone periodically, as if each glance might summon him— like a message would magically appear on your screen by sheer will.

It never does though unfortunately.

Sighing and huffing, you throw your phone across the bed in frustration. What’s the point in even having a phone if he isn’t going to properly communicate with it?

You head downstairs to make a smoothie to keep yourself occupied, hoping the motion would quiet your thoughts, but your mind subconsciously betrayed you. All you could think about was Jisung. His voice, low and velvet-smooth, replaying in your head like a song that you couldn’t turn off, a distant memory that was out of reach. The more time you spent away from him left you needing to fill the void, constantly keeping yourself busy not out of habit, but out of necessity; because the stillness always brought out your melancholy, and you weren’t sure how much more of that you could bear.

It wasn’t easy at all dating someone like him— not knowing when he’ll text you, not being able to just call him whenever you feel like it. Those intense feelings of yearning cloud your mind and turn you into a lovesick pup. You also don’t want to come off as clingy and text him too much since you know he’s probably working.

You hear a set of keys jingle from outside, unlocking the door. You felt frozen in time, not making any sudden movement— it was like the universe had bent in your favor and a guardian angel just answered all your prayers.

Slowly walking up to the door, heart fluttering in anticipation, you see the man who’s been occupying every corner of your mind. A smiling Jisung in front of you with a large bouquet of pink roses in his hands.

“Surprise!” Jisung beamed through the open doorway, voice bright and familiar.

What a pleasant surprise indeed. You’ve been quietly longing for this moment practically the whole day, waiting for him to come through that door and chase the ache out of your chest. His blond hair fell messily into his eyes but you could still see that he looked a bit tired. It was nice of him to give you the flowers and all, but you still felt sort of neglected by him not calling or texting. You’d spent majority of the day wondering if he’d forgotten how much space he took up in your heart.

“Wow, these are beautiful! You really didn’t have to Ji, thank you.” You flash a soft, appreciative smile as you set the flowers on the table.

“That’s my apology gift for not being able to call you all day,” he spoke earnestly, inching his way closer to you. “Things just got hectic and I didn’t have time to. I saw this really beautiful flower spot on the way here and wanted to get you a little something. Again, I’m really sorry…”

Sometimes you wonder if he’s a mind reader, he always seemed to know when something was off— doing his best to resolve a problem before it gets too out of hand. He doesn’t handle conflict very well and shuts down if the argument gets too heated.

“It’s okay Ji, I get it. You’re a busy man… you’ve got more important things to worry about than me.” The words left your lips before you could stop them— and the second they did, regret followed like a shadow. You hadn’t meant to guilt him. You just… missed him. More than words could ever convey.

“What’re you talking about y/n? You’re the most important person in my life.” Jisung expresses, voice heavy with disbelief. “I can’t believe you’d say such a thing like that.. maybe I need to do better in showing how much I love you. How much I appreciate you.”

As if he were worried you would disappear right in this moment, he steps forward, tightly pulling you into his arms. You felt as though you could cry, but you held your tears back— you couldn’t fall apart, not when he was finally here, you had to remain strong in front of him.

“N-no Ji, you’re perfect just the way you are please don’t change! It’s just… the communication could be a little better on your side.” You tried to phrase it carefully, choosing your words in a way that wouldn’t hurt his feelings.

He simply nods in agreement, “you’re absolutely right. From this day forward I’ll try my best to communicate with you better. I truly never realized how much of an effect that can have on you. I’m so, so sorry.”

“Jisung please, it’s fine. Stop apologizing so much, I’m just… I’m glad you’re here with me right now.” You nuzzle into his chest and play into the palm of his hand, allowing the beat of his heart to calm any of the persisting doubts that loomed over you.

“Me too y/n, me too.”

‧ ꙳ ੭ * ‧ ⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ‧

You cuddled in bed with Jisung for the rest of the day, the glow of random Netflix movies flickering across the dimly lit room. Not that either of you were really watching to begin with— your mouths found each other too easily, too often, kisses bleeding into each new scene as if you were writing your own story between each breath.

His leg was sprawled over yours with his arm wrapped around your waist, peppering gentle kisses to the side of your face, pressing up against you— both your body heat combined was hot enough to light a match. It didn’t matter how long you’ve been with him for, the tension between you two was beyond frustrating.

Jisung never pressured you into things though, he liked it better when you initiate something more because he knows you’re having a good time. He cared more about you than he did himself and what you said earlier still weighed heavy on his mind.

“Am I a bad boyfriend to you y/n? Be honest, I can take it..” Jisung asks on a whim.

You blinked slowly, caught by surprise. “No, what the hell? You’re not at all, I love you so much my JiJi.”

“Then why do I feel so bad for what you said earlier? There’s gotta be some truth behind you thinking that you’re not important to me.”

You sighed as your head hung low, tracing idle patterns across his chest. “I don’t know why I’d say that… it just came out I’m sorry. I know you value me, I know you love me, I was just upset in that moment and should’ve have said it. We both have things to work on so I’m glad we’re talking more about this actually.” You feel better now that you were able to healthily communicate with him about all this.

“Yeah, I agree.” Jisung admits, running a hand through his hair. “I need to work on actually looking at my phone sometimes. I’ve just been so tired from all this back and forth traveling, I get jet-lagged easily.”

“I get it, it’s hard and although I may not understand I can definitely sympathize. I’m here for you whenever you need me Ji, I’m your ride or die until the end, right?” You look up at him again, getting closer in proximity to his face.

“Right.”

He leans in to capture your lips into another kiss, which leads back to you making out yet again. Things grew a little too heated when his hands sneak down a bit lower than they’re supposed to. You tsk at him and he turns red as a tomato, looking away at you with a sheepish grin.

“Later Ji, I was sweating a bit earlier and would like to freshen up before we get into… all that.” You know he definitely doesn’t care and a little bit of swear wasn’t going to turn him off but he wants to do what’s best for you anyway— he always respected what made you feel most comfortable.

You rose from the bed to get ready for your shower and he gets up to examine all the things on your dresser. Eyes curiously scanning over the newly reorganized collection of beauty products— neat rows of perfumes, palettes, and perfectly arranged lipsticks.

“I never realized you had this much makeup y/n, how do you even keep track of it all?” Jisung probes, fascinated by all the different kinds of makeup there were.

“You literally wear makeup too… you should know that it’s always important to have lots of options!” You exclaim, shaking your head at him going through your different shades of lipstick.

He spots a pretty light pink color and applies it on his lips, dramatically turning towards you to show off the final look.

“You think this shade suits me?” He points at his lips that formed a tiny pout and jokingly winks at you.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Honestly? That color looks way better on you than me, you should keep it!”

Curse this man’s insanely out of this world good looks.

He chuckles at your comment and continues looking through your stuff, swatching the eyeshadows on his wrist, he looked like he was having a field day.

“You seem to be really enjoying my things, huh?” You inquire, eyeing the vibrant colors on his skin.

“I just think it’s cool,” Jisung mused, still aimlessly swatching colors across his wrist like tiny brushstrokes on a canvas. “I find things like this to be artistic in a way. Makeup can be used as a form of self expression, you know? I always liked that.”

You love how your boyfriend can be so secure in his own masculinity, that it doesn’t matter for him to find interest in these things. It’s what made you even more attracted to him, his inner femininity shined through so beautifully.

He wasn’t scared to break norms with you either, he enjoyed doing the cooking (if he didn’t burn the house down), house cleaning, and running small errands for you without even asking. His love for you stretched so far that he’d do anything to prove he deserved you. It was a very healthy and balanced relationship but still, he did get in his head a lot about if he was good enough for you.

Before you get in the shower, Jisung holds your arm in place to say one last thing.

“I know I’ve probably said this for the millionth time today but, I love you y/n. Truly, I do. There’s not a single person in this world I’d imagine being with other than you. Thank you for being so patient with me and sticking by my side. You really are my person.”

He pulls you in for another warm hug, holding you like this was his last day on earth— he slightly towered over you, he could just kiss the top of your head. You couldn’t stop smiling at him, it was precious moments like these that you cherished near and dear for the rest of your life.

“I love you so much Ji, you’re everything I need and value in a partner. I know that as long as we have each other, we can get through anything.”

perm taglist: @justwonder113 @emilyywhyy @leeknowslefteyebrow @min-doesnt-know @velechi @kayleefriedchicken @jeonginsbaee @thelittletobsterthatcould @queenofdumbfuckery @met30rc1ty @mouthfullobats @geni-627 @amarecerasus @emma-your-goofy-girlfie @n4tr3ad5 @cowboylikemalika @obsessivemuso-withnofriends @skzfangirl143 @mmarusa @velvetskize @seungmyynie @trixiekaulitz | if you wanna be tagged in any of my future posts fill out this form here. ♡

[gay-dorito-dust]

Remy fic for @littlekidsteve

It has only been a little while since you and Remy had managed to escape the void along with Electra, Laura and Blade before biding them farewell, all the while you and Remy took a long walk as you both tried to figure out what you were going to do now that you were free.

Out of everyone you and Remy were the closet and so the idea of saying goodbye to one another after everything felt wrong, Remy had become apart of you as you became a vital part of him, so much so to the point neither of you could fathom an life without the other being apart of it some way or another.

‘Got any plans now that we’ve escaped the void?’ You asked him and he hums while shuffling his playing cards, a habit you noticed he had whether he was in need of a distraction or in deep thought.

‘I have been in the void for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever get out mon Cher, nor would get out so I made my inescapable prison a home, so all this is…rather new to me.’ Remy admits as he looked over at you with a soft expression before nudging you with his shoulder. ‘You have lived a life before the void, I think you’d be better suited for that question.’

You chuckled as you rubbed the back of your neck. ‘Yeah well I’m pretty sure they’ve pruned it by now, so I’m just as lost as you are and I haven’t been in the Void nearly as long as you have.’ You told him and Remy couldn’t help but chuckle as he went to grab your hand, intertwining it with his own. ‘Then we shall find a way to navigate our new life, together.’ He promised as he then brought your hand up to his lips before softly kissed it.

‘You promise?’ You asked.

‘I promise mon Cher.’ Remy echoed and suddenly everything felt like it was going to be okay, the void was long behind you both as the future was on the horizon, waiting for your both to take it

And soon enough with time and patience you and Remy found yourselves in your own little apartment -that was funnily enough not far from where Wade, Blind Al and Logan lived- and living a quiet, domestic lifestyle, just like you had wanted for a long time but couldn’t due to certain circumstances. You couldn’t help but smile softly upon first seeing Remy with an peaceful expression on his face as he slept, he looked beautiful and at ease with everything that you found yourself admiring him in silence, not wanting to ruin this moment by sneezing or shifting your weight and waking him by accident.

‘Wade is right. You are beautiful.’ You muttered lowly as you memorised his face and the way the light from the window made his skin glow an almost golden hue, making him look ethereal, as you took the time to appreciate the way his eyelashes kissed the apples of his cheeks. Remy was a handsome man and you were in no shape or form to deny it when you were more then aware of this face since the moment you met, but it wasn’t his physical appearance that drew you in but more or less his heart and his ability to light up anything that he touched, and soon enough you found yourself falling for the Cajun Frenchman more then you’d originally thought.

Remy has consumed your every waking and sleeping thought, claimed your body and heart as his own with how his eyes never seemed to leave you the moment you entered the room, smiling at you warmly before cross over to stand next to you for the rest of the day while occasionally showing off a new card trick he learnt. Even during combat Remy would stay close by to keep you safe when he felt that someone was getting too close for comfort by throwing one of his kinetically charged playing cards at them, and when you look over at him he just winks at you and continues the fight.

‘I can sense you watching me mon Cher.’ Remy said as he smiles cheekily, opening one eye to look at you as he brought a hand behind your head, pulling you in for a brief but sweet kiss before pulling away to look at you. ‘Am I really as beautiful as you say?’ He adds in a whisper as though he didn’t want anyone else to hear your conversation.

‘You can’t be blind to your own beauty can you Remy?’ You asked as you moved a hand to rest upon his chest, tapping your fingers against his skin in an unheard rhythm.

‘I’m not, I just want to hear you say it.’ Remy replied as he found his eyes wandering across your face with fondness and admiration. You couldn’t help but laugh as you rested your head against his chest, nuzzling into him. ‘You are indeed beautiful Remy Lebeau, the most beautiful man I have ever laid my eyes on.’ You admit as you look at him, pressing a kiss to his chin as you felt his arms tighten on you, restraining you from moving away from him.

‘You flatter me Cher, but it is you who’s the most beautiful.’ Remy says as he presses a kiss to the top of your head, breathing in the shampoo and conditioner you used and closing his eyes, never having the luxury of experiencing peace before in his life but finding himself falling in love with it as fast as he did with you. Remy felt as though he could stay in this bed forever with you but knew with your plans for later today he wouldn’t, though that didn’t stop him from doing whatever he could to keep you in his arms.

‘Wade, Logan, Laura and their friends are coming over soon.’ You murmured.

‘I know.’ Remy relied.

‘We should get up soon.’ You continued.

‘I know.’ Remy repeated as he kissed your head again, cuddling you further into his chest. ‘We’ll get up soon, but for now can we just…stay here, please Cher.’ He adds in a plea and you couldn’t help but feel yourself slipping into sleep the longer you stayed in Remy’s comforting and strong arms.

‘I guess five minutes wouldn’t hurt.’ You said as you nuzzled yourself into his neck, kissing it. ‘Then we’ll have to…to…wake.’ Before you could finish your sentence you had found yourself fast asleep as Remy smiled down at you. ‘I’m sure they won’t mind Cherie, they’ll understand.’ He says before joining you in dream land.

Bonus:

‘Where the fuck are they?!’ Wade shouted as he, Logan, Laura, Al, dogpool and the rest of his friends stood outside in the hallway to yours and Remy’s apartment after banging on the door for the past five minutes.

‘They’re probably still asleep, best we leave them be before we fucking wake the rest of the apartment complex.’ Logan said, side eyeing Wade as he sifted the welcome gifts in his arms.

Wade pouts and just as they were about to leave, a rugged and scruffy looking you and Remy opened the door to greet them as Wade laughs. ‘You two looked like as though we’ve interrupted something between you two.’ Wade the leaned towards you to whisper. ‘Is the French dick that good?’ You glared at him as you flicked him on the forehead, watching him as he winced and rubbed his forehead with a pout.

‘We may or may not have overslept thanks to someone.’ You nudged Remy in the side as he smiles cheekily and brings an arm to your waist, tugging you into his side. ‘Guilty as charged.’ He said proudly as you both stepped aside for everyone to enter your shared apartment before joining them, happy to have known such weird yet beautiful people.

[angelsassassin]

Home • Spencer Reid x reader

In which Spencer comes home to you

Spencer was a free man, and you were there waiting for him.

Details: fem!reader x spencer reid, established relationship

Warnings: nothing that I can think of to be honest.

Caution: MINORS DNI!

AN: I spent like ten minutes looking for this gif it’s actually so sad.

Spencer was a free man. After three months of being in prison following a wrongful conviction, he was free. JJ had come to tell him the good news, telling him that after a few days, you’d be coming to pick him up.

When that day finally came, Spencer woke up feeling better than he had in those months. He woke up knowing he was finally able to hug you again, kiss you again, touch you again.

He had missed you so much, more than he could ever imagine was possible. When the guards came to get him, he began to feel nervous. As he put on the suit he had worn the day he was sentenced to prison in court, his heart began to beat quicker than it ever had done before.

He had instructed the team to not let you see him while he was in prison, not wanting you to see how broken he was. He hadn’t seen you in three months, and only spoken to you over the phone a handful of times.

But now, he was finally able to be with you again.

You were waiting outside the prison, leaning against your car. You were shaking due to how nervous you were. Every sound that came from the prison would make you look up, hoping to see Spencer, your loving boyfriend, finally walk out of there.

Eventually, you heard a different noise, and you immediately knew it was time. You looked up, seeing guards exiting the building, and Spencer following behind. His eyes found yours almost immediately, as if he knew exactly how to find you. The guard opened the last gate that stood between the two of you, and let Spencer walk out of it.

He was a free man.

Upon seeing him walk out of the gate, your legs moved quicker than your mind could register what was happening. You jogged up to him, almost throwing yourself into his arms when you finally reached him. You wrapped your arms around him, and he wrapped his arms around you.

The two of you stood like that for a few minutes, before he pulled away and looked at you, really looked at you.

“Hi.” He said, with a small smile growing on his face.

“Hey.” You replied.

Those two words were all it took for Spencer to grab your face, pulling you closer to him and placing his lips down onto yours. The kiss was electric, it was passionate. Three months worth of missing each other, of uncertainty, it was all poured into the kiss.

Once you pulled away, needing to breathe, you placed your head on his chest. “I love you so much.” You mumbled into him.

“I love you, angel. I love you so much.” He says as he kisses your head. “God, I missed you.”

It felt like eternity before you finally pulled away from each other, looking deep into one another’s eyes. “How about I take you home?”

Spencer eagerly nodded.

The drive back to your home was silent, but it was a comfortable silence. Spencer kept his hand on yours the entire time you drove, not wanting to let go and be void of your touch for any longer. He glanced over at you several times, each time he did, his heart swelled with love.

As you entered your home, he looked around, noticing that it hadn’t changed at all; everything was the exact same. The pictures that lined the walls were the same, his satchel still in the exact same spot he had left it in.

“This doesn’t feel real.” He whispered. You turned to face him and placed both of your hands on his face.

“It is, Spence. You’re home. You’re back. It’s over.” You assure him. “Everything’s over.” At your words, Spencer wrapped his arms around you, burying his head into the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent.

Spencer never admitted it, but your smell, it always gave him comfort. The way your hair and your body smelled like the shampoo you use, the one you insist on never changing, it made him feel at home. It made him feel like he was safe, and okay. And in that moment, that was all he needed.

He needed to know he was safe, and that he was okay. He needed to know that he was home, and that he would never go back to prison. He needed to know that you were there, that you would always be there, even in his worst moments.

You wrapped your arms around him, and let out a sigh. “You know, I finally feel like I can breathe again. It feels like… like I’m complete again.” You whisper into his chest.

Spencer didn’t reply, afraid that if he spoke, he’d break down. All he could do was hold onto you tighter, pulling you even closer to him, if that was even humanly possible.

Despite not saying anything, Spencer felt the exact same way. For three months, it felt like pieces of him were being chipped away, like he was becoming a shell of a man. There was a very real possibility that he would never be able to be the same man again. But as he held you, he felt complete. He was a changed man, of course, but the one thing he knew would never change, that could never change, was his love for you, and how much he needed you.

As he took deep breaths in order to steady his heart rate, he realised in that moment that he could never live without you ever again. He knew that he needed you like he needed oxygen, like he needed water. Spencer Reid needed you, and he was going to make sure you spent the rest of your life knowing how much he needed you, how much he loved you. He was never going to let you go, and he knew exactly what to do, and how he was going to prove that to you.

~~~

AN: This series will not be in chronological order of how they meet and fall in love and blah blah blah. It’s more about the little moments between Spencer and reader throughout their years together.

[lazy-gyu]

CW: NSFW , DOMINANT TOP READER , NON-HUMAN CHARACTER , SUBMISSIVE BOTTOM CHARACTER , MDNI

It was frustrating when you were running late for work and couldn't find a single pair of socks in your closet. Over the past few weeks, you've noticed some of your clothes going missing - at first just small things like dirty boxers and socks, but gradually larger items like shirts and pants. You searched everywhere - the laundry room, the hamper, behind your bedroom door, even under the bed. You emptied your entire closet, but still couldn't find anything. At this point, you were convinced a thief was targeting your wardrobe... but that didn't make sense. Your wallet was still on the coffee table, the fridge was fully stocked, and none of your furniture had disappeared

One random day, you noticed the basement door slightly opened. Curious, you headed downstairs and followed a trail of your missing clothes to a shocking sight - a naked creature with gray skin and empty, void-like eyes curled up amidst the garments. He was sobbing, legs spread as he desperately rubbed his dripping hole, trying to relieve himself. His delicate hands groped his fat nipples, turning them a deep pink from the lewd touches.

The creature nearly jumped when he saw you staring at him. Embarrassed, he used his hand to cover his slicked hole. "Don't... h-hurt me," he pleaded in a soft, trembling voice as he got on his knees and crawled towards you. You backed away, startled, but he gently grasped your hand. His legs shivered from the cold basement floor, making your heart race.

Looking up at you with loving, empty eyes, he trembled and bit his lip nervously. When you turned to leave, he thought you were abandoning him, throwing him away. But you returned with a blanket, wrapping around his shivering form and carrying him back to the living room. His hands clung to your clothes as he sniffed your neck, inhaling your scent deeply. Gratefully, he babbled his thanks as you fed him human food and treated him kindly, he shifted uncomfortably on the sofa, breathing heavily. Unable to contain himself any longer, he crawled into your lap, moaning and hugging you tightly. You gently stroke his head, causing him to purr and bask in your affection.

Your hands roamed his back, making him shiver and whine. Groping his plump ass, you spread his cheeks, eliciting a gasp as his nails dig into your skin. Realizing he may have hurt you, he loosen his grip, looking apologetic. You smiled reassuringly and asked him to hug you again, which he did eagerly.

Coiling your fingers, you began to play with his dripping wet pussy. His eyes widen in disbelief as your digits sank into his needy cunt. Overwhelmed with pleasure, he started grinding against your hand, desperate for more stimulation. Such a needy creature, craving to be mated and bred thoroughly.

As you finger his pussy, he can't help but hump your hand vigorously, his clit rubbing against your palm. You spanked his ass in warning, causing him to sob prettily against you. Gripping his face, you spat into his mouth, which he happily swallowed.

"Love... you... me love..." He whispered in your ear, voice trembling with emotion. "Love... me too," he repeated, gazing at you adoringly. You kissed his cheek tenderly, guiding his hips upward. Freeing your throbbing cock from your shorts, you positioned the tip at his soaked entrance. He gasped in delight as he felt your fat cockhead pressing against his folds.

Wrapping his arms around your neck, you slowly sink your shaft into his tight, wet heat. He wailed and arched his back, relishing the delicious stretch. "You want this, right?" you murmured in his ear. He nodded dumbly, grinding back against you.

"Oh... ah... mmm... fuck..." He moaned wantonly as he rode your cock like a bitch in heat. The burning sensation of being stretched by your thick member made his thighs quiver with excitement. Gripping the his hips, you pounded into his tight pussy with increasing intensity. He cried out in ecstasy, his walls clenching around your throbbing cock. You could feel your orgasm building, the pressure becoming too much to bear. You can feel your cock and balls getting wet because of his slick.

With a final, powerful thrust, you buried yourself deep inside his quivering cunt. He let out a high-pitched wail as you exploded, filling his womb with your hot, thick seed. His eyes rolled back, tongue lolling out as he experienced the most intense orgasm of his life.

You collapsed onto the sofa, both of you panting and covered in sweat. He nuzzles against your chest, purring contentedly. His mind filled of you being his mate and him being your wife... He loves you so much so please breed him everyday ♡

[abbotmohann]

closed doors

pairing: jack abbot x attending!reader

summary: you don’t mean to let jack abbot into your heart but when you realise you did, the only logical response is to push him away and pretend like you can go back to being a cold hearted bitch

a/n: i love reading angst idk what that says about me but anyways this was meant to be just a little drabble but it turned out longer than i imagined but the ending is kinda meh. also not proofread, hope you like it!

jack abbot is a widowed former trauma medic amputee not that he let it define him at least not anymore, the man has been through it and even though he occasionally hangs out on the roof he goes to therapy he makes an active effort to work through his ptsd and improve his mental health. so when jack meets you he feels a sense of kinship just as morbid as he was possibly even more so but he enjoys your deadpan humour.

you don’t realise how or when it happened but over the course of the months working together he worms his way into your life, he gets you coffee most nights and half the time when you’re in the doctors lounge trying to take a moment and eat a protein bar he comes in and offers you half his packed lunch which you insist you can’t take but he never takes no for an answer and when he offers rides home you don’t even fight it.

you come to the realisation the first time he’s off in months and you feel the lack of his presence the whole shift, your mind wandering what he was doing - you miss him and you hate it. you’re anxious throughout the next shift you feel tense and awkward around him, trying to process. you try to distance yourself from him but he makes it so goddamn hard, you couldn’t exactly turn down the free coffee so you find other ways like not eating in the doctors lounge, you keep small talk to a minimum where you used to banter with him you don’t - you’re not mean about it at least you don’t think so and when your shift ends you hang back a good 15minutes. eventually he seems to get the picture, he still gets you coffee and searches your eyes every time likely trying to figure what’s changed but you smile and say thanks like normal every single time leaving him confused but that’s really the only that’s stuck, there’s no back and forth anymore it’s strictly professional and you don’t have to hang back anymore, he doesn’t offer you ride anymore. you hate it you miss him, him still buying you a coffee makes it worse sometimes you want to say something spark it all back up again and every once in awhile he sees it and hesitates but you chicken out. eventually even the coffee stops and that really breaks your heart, he never treats you differently on a professional level which at the very least you’re thankful for not that you doubted him but a sick part of you almost wishes he did, there’s an aching void where he used to occupy that you keep trying to ignore - an impossible task when you see him almost daily.

one night you’re running into work early deciding to buy a coffee from the local spot that jack used to get it for the two of you, you make the impulsive decision to also grab one for jack immediately regretting as you’re walking in. you thought about all the ways this was a bad idea so close to throwing it away but just as you were getting to the entrance with both cups in hand so was jack - this was the moment.

“hi jack! i got you coffee”

he furrowed his brows perplexed, she doesn’t speak to him in months but now she brings him a coffee from their spot - she obviously needed a favour he assumed. “thanks” he gave a tight lipped smile as he took the cup and walked away. the rest of the shift went by as normal and there was no favour to be asked so what was that? he wondered, something to discuss with the therapist he figured.

now at the end of your shift there’s a downpour, the kind of torrential rain that soaks you through to the bone. you’re standing at the exit cursing at yourself for not having an umbrella or anything protective dreading getting onto public transport. jack walking out spots you, he sighs his chest tightening nervous for what he’s about to say dreading your reaction.

“i’ll give you a lift”

“oh no jack it’s fine, it’s not too bad”

he rolled his eyes huffing. “it wasn’t a question” you open and close your mouth not knowing how to respond and jack simply pops open his umbrella waiting so you get under it and walk to his car.

the silence is deafening, you feel sick to your stomach. you feel this wave of anger coming off jack you can’t tell if it’s all in your head your if it’s just own guilt projecting. it silent the whole journey and when you reach yours.

“thanks for the ride”

“here take the umbrella”

“thanks but i can survive a few feet”

you unbuckle your seat but you can’t move, you feel the overwhelming urge to fix this now but unsure of how to approach this you say probably the most ridiculous thing you could.

“i know you live far so if you want you can wait at mines for the rain to calm down” you lived a 15 minute drive away from the hospital but tonight he had taken 30 minutes and you knew he lived a 45 minute drive away. you were being logical in a situation that was incredibly illogical. “please for my sake”

he’s thrown off, irritated at the offer. he wants to be mad at you but your voice soft and shaky just makes him want to grab you into his arms and comfort you, you were maddening he thought.

when he walks into your apartment he’s struck by how clinical it feels, you have the barebones it seems there’s no warmth like it’s not lived in. “do you want something to drink like a cup of tea or coffee?” at ease now in your own domain the guilt temporarily forgotten.

“uh, a coffee would be nice” he stands there awkwardly not sure what to do watching you fuss about around your studio flat seemingly switching the heating on opening the curtain halfway (what was that about?).

“you can go ahead and sit on the sofa jack” and so he does, he mind swirling with a million questions, he decided this was it this was the best time to get his answers once and for all.

you come to sit beside him with two cups of coffee, the awkward tension stronger than ever you know you should say something or else what was the point of inviting him to your place at the very least for the sake of being a good host.

“it was lucky you brought an umbrella i don’t remember seeing it as going rain when i check the weather”

“seriously!? you wanna talk about the weather? not about how you’ve been treating me the past couple months?”

“i haven’t been rude”

“seriously!?”

“what!?” you running your fingers through your hair frustrated this isn’t going how you wanted, not that you had a plan but anything is better than this.

“you’re too smart to be playing dumb right now, you’ve been avoiding me” his voice is harsh now, exasperated with you and you’re inability to be honest. he knew you had walls, he knew you weren’t an open book if anything you reminded him a little bit of him and he liked it cos he understood it.

“no i haven’t” you know it’s stilly to so balantly lie but you’re still too scared to be real.

“you’re never in the doctors lounge, you never wanna speak about anything that isn’t medical anymore and don’t think i don’t know you purposely hang in the locker room so i can’t offer you ride home. i thought you were going through something personal and pushing everyone away but then i soon realised you had no problem with any of our coworkers just me, so if ive done something to hurt you just tell me how i can fix it?”

“jack, i’m sorry i wasn’t clear but our relationship was becoming unprofessional you’re my senior, i was just trying to establish boundaries again and keep it strictly professional”

“you think it’s professional to invite me into your home?” he rolls his eyes, he feels defeated now maybe tonight wouldn’t be the night this would be fixed.

“i’m not a total monster, i can’t have you getting into an accident on my conscious”

jack sighs and you both sit there silent for a beat, jack bumping his legs against yours willing you to look at him and you do.

“god you drive me insane” he lets out a chuckle rubbing his face.

you’re pouting now. “do you hate me now?”

“no! i wouldn’t be here trying to fix this, asking my therapist for advice”

“there’s nothing to fix” it’s out before you even think, wincing at the harshness but you don’t let jack speak. “wait i’m sorry that was mean”

he rolls his eyes “normally i like that about you so i’ll it slide” you chew on your lips at his casual confession, like in what way is the first thought and the second thought is ‘you’re insane’

“you spoke about me to your therapist?” a giggle escapes, it seemed absurd that you’d be brought up, that you had any significant meaning to his life. “i’m sorry it’s not funny, i’m just surprised”

“i know i said this already but god you’re drive me insane, what’s so surprising about that?”

“idk the fact that there’s anything significant about me or us to discuss”

“maybe throwing away our friendship was easy for you but it meant a lot to me, you mean a lot to me. i can’t stop caring about you even if i wanted to and if you really did think the professional lines were blurring and it was making you uncomfortable you could’ve just said so, i don’t wanna ever make you feel uncomfortable.”

“i’m sorry” you look down at your fidgeting hands breaking the eye contact.

“stop apologising”

“i don’t actually care about professional boundaries, i know you wouldn’t let any personal beef getting into the way of work. i just you’re better off without me”

“what’s that supposed to mean? you don’t think you’re good enough for me?”

“jack i’m incredibly fucked up and i don’t go to therapy even though i probably should, i don’t let people into my life but all of a sudden you weaseled your way into my heart and so i pushed you away for my sake and yours. i didn’t wanna go through the mortifying experience of you realising my feelings and rejecting them but here we are”.

“please look at me when i say this.” you oblige considering it’s the least you could do. “did i bring anyone else coffee? did i share my food with anyone else? am i giving rides out to everyone? you think you didn’t weasel your way into my heart? you’re the only thing i look forward to coming into work even when it hurt”

he strokes your cheek as he brushes a few unruly pieces away, “i’ve wanted to do this for so long” he pulls you in to a passionate kiss and you oblige melting into his touch, he’s soon pulling you into his lap the kiss frantic and desperate.

he pulls away to catch ch his breath and remark on the facts. “you know we could’ve been doing this for months instead”

pressing soft kisses along his neck, you let out a frustrated sigh “i know i’m an idiot, i’m sorry”

“what did i say about apologising, you can you make it up to me instead” he winked

“oh i’m not sorry then” you smirk running your hands through his salt and pepper curls.

“you’re gonna be the death of me” his lips are back on you again in a frantic mess, your arms wrapped around him tightly rolling your hips deciding this morning was going to end with both of you naked.

[peachyprophets-blog]

DROWNED LOVE, LET ME SEE YOU AGAIN (Finale)

Epic x Reader

CW: Yandere themes, attempted suicide (only mentioned), death of the main character, PLOOOOT

Description: you have forgotten your past with Odysseus and Penelope, but you still have an empty place in your heart. You have tried several times to throw yourself off the mountain and find peace. And when Odysseus wakes up on Calypso's island, a sudden thunderclap sounds that briefly shakes the world...

AN: This is the last part of this story, how do you like the plot? I hope you liked this fanfiction, I had a lot of fun writing it!

Part 6 Wake up!

PREV

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Emptiness filled you when you were torn from your dream. The dream was a paradise for you, you felt free again after such a long time. Free from the gods, free from the pain, free from the emptiness in your soul and your heart. But the dream shattered when delicate hands glided over your sleeping form and shook you awake. When you opened your eyes you looked into the face of the beautiful Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty. "Oh my darling, you don't have to sleep out here," her voice rang out, filled with concern. With her help you slowly got up and yawned quietly, mourning your dream. But as soon as you realized where you were, the emptiness filled you again. It locked you in a loneliness that no god in the world could have filled. Aphrodite took you into the great hall, you were like a doll that only moved when someone pulled you behind her. Aphrodite didn't let go of your hand either, it had always been like this ever since you tried several times to throw yourself off the mountain. A god always had a hand on you, whether they held your hand, put an arm around your shoulder or waist, or carried you in their arms. Aphrodite pulled you next to her, and so the days passed in which you lived like a doll.

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Reader POV:

I sat at the window of the temple of Athena, the goddess who still treated me as a human. She was my favorite of all because she didn't force herself on me, I waited for her because she was visiting a mortal. When she came back there was a thoughtful expression on her face, as if something was bothering her. "Lady Athena?" I began, "What are you thinking about?" I completed my question. When she looked at me her gaze softened and a slight smile graced her lips before she answered me. "You know, I once had a boyfriend but we parted ways years ago," her voice rang out, she sounded so serious. "But now I know that I have to make it right again." She said seriously. I nodded at her, she told me about her plan to convince her father Zeus to release her friend. I was slowly becoming curious who this friend was, but she didn't really answer that question. I listened carefully to Athena's plans to convince Zeus. Once she mentioned the name of the friend she wanted to save, but the name sounded unfamiliar to me and I can't remember what it was. "I really hope you can free your friend, Lady Athena." I smiled gently at the goddess of wisdom, I felt most comfortable and understood around her. But she still couldn't fill the void, I knew that she was trying too and that made me feel very guilty towards her.

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On Ithaca the sun was high in the sky, suitors gathered in the halls of the palace and craved the attention of the queen: Penelope. Penelope had now waited 16 years for her husband Odysseus and her future wife (Y/N). She missed them both from the bottom of her heart but also had to be there for her people and her son. The Queen of Ithaca knew that something was wrong because her memories of (Y/N) were also blurry. It was as if something, or rather someone, was trying to destroy the connection the three had with each other. Penelope sat at her loom and continued weaving the picture she was working on and thought about the past but could only remember the time with Odysseus and slowly the memories of the young woman she and Odysseus once loved disappeared completely. Telemachus, who was standing in the large garden of the palace, stared at the statue of his father. In his hand he held a small book that was bound in leather. A diary of his father that he had found back then, in it was written everything about the woman who had followed him into the war after Telemachus was born, (Y/N) future wife of Odysseus and Penelope. For a moment, the young prince's eyes glowed gold. "Destroy it." A woman's voice rang out, and Telemachus tried to ignore it again like he had done for the last few months since he had found the book about (Y/N). He wanted to get to know her and love her like his parents did, but this person was against it.

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??? POV:

I had to prevent her existence from being passed on, and the little prince didn't make it easy. I had already robbed Penelope and Odysseus of their memories of her. And I was responsible for her forgetting her previous life. Now I just had to convince the Prince of Ithaca and everything would go according to plan. My golden eyes took over the prince's again and I finally had full control over the boy. As Telemachus I walked through the halls, ignoring his mother's suitors because I had to destroy this book. I came to a carmine and threw the book in there where I watched as it was destroyed in the fire, this filled me with satisfaction. "Telemachus, what are you doing?" I turned around in shock and saw his mother, the Queen of Ithaca, standing in front of me, looking questioningly into the fire. "Nothing mother, I'm just burning your suitors' letters." I answered and she nodded before stroking his head lovingly. "Thank you, Nyx," she said before turning away and disappearing back into her room. Shortly afterwards I left the boy's body and made my way to Hades, who asked me to do all this.

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The light shone brightly on the Queen of the Gods Hera. "Never once had he cheated on his wife," Athena's voice rang out. Hera, who immediately recognized that Athena was telling the truth, looked angrily at her husband. "Release him," her words sounded sharp and were aimed directly at Zeus. Zeus, who had been sitting completely relaxed on his throne until now, twitched his eyebrows. Had Athena tried to embarrass him? She shouldn't get away with that, she wants a fight? She'll get it. The clouds closed in before it started to thunder and flash loudly. When you saw the storm, you just stared up at the sky.

°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•

Y/N POV

It was strange, my whole body started to shake but not out of fear. Poseidon, who was sitting next to me, put an arm around me to calm me down, but it didn't work. And slowly they came back, memories that had disappeared. Absolutely everything came back into my head like a wave and I stood up before I stared angrily at Poseidon, "You killed 558 men, you monster." I accused him. But before he could answer, my legs started running. I knew that I would never be able to escape from here and that there was only one chance. I could only escape from eternal imprisonment if I...

°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•

Everything suddenly fell silent when a loud thunder shook the world. Odysseus, who had already been imprisoned on Calypso's island for seven years, raised his head when he heard that. Athena, who was supposed to be struck by lightning, stared in horror at your figure that had been struck by lightning. The world stopped turning and everything seemed bright to you. Your body felt an endless pain that didn't last long. The gods rushed towards you and Apollo was the first to reach you, lifted you in his arms and tried to heal you, but as soon as he put his hand on your body, it shattered into a thousand pieces that slowly dissolved into nothing. Your existence had been wiped out, at least for the moment. At the same time in the underworld, Hades sat on his throne, he could observe everything that happened on Olympus. He knew that the gods were beside themselves with anger and grief, but that was the only way he could save you. He had found out about you early on through his wife Persephone and felt sorry for you, so he had sent Nyx with the task of wiping out your existence. But he knew that now you would be able to live a life without all the pain.

°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•

Y/N POV

I tried to open my eyes, everything was so quiet that it was already too loud for me. Every now and then I saw old, long-forgotten memories, my parents, Odysseus, Penelope, the war and more. Then I suddenly felt a warmth shining on my face and a loud noise. "What...?" I said in a scratchy voice before slowly opening my eyes.

°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•○☆○•°♡°•

The morning sun was shining in the sky and filling the room of the girl with the (H/C) hair with golden light. When she opened her (E/C) eyes she found herself in her room again. She sat up sleepily and rubbed the sleep from her eyes that was still blinding her perception. When she forced herself to get up to turn off the alarm, she let her gaze wander out the window. It was a beautiful spring day and the sun was shining pleasantly on her face. She let this moment sink in and relaxed completely. The young woman went through the day she had planned in her head. When she opened her eyes she started to get ready, she put on a white long-sleeved blouse and simple black high-waisted jeans. She looked over at a shelf where her jewelry was, she took a gold chain with a sun pendant from the shelf. She had had this chain since she was born, it was tradition in the family that every member receives such a chain as a gift after birth. She also decorated her fingers with gold rings. After putting on matching sneakers the young woman looked in the mirror and nodded contentedly, in the mirror she looked at her desk and remembered that she had to slowly make her way to university. As she went to the desk she looked at a book, it was the Odyssey which they were currently discussing at university. The young woman loved history in every respect, but the Odyssey in particular had won her heart even if it seemed to her as if something was missing from it. Like a person who was never mentioned or was intentionally removed? As the young woman was packing her bag she stared at a fruit that had not been on the table yesterday, a pomegranate….

-Peachyprophet

TAG LIST:

@doodle-with-rhy

[midniqhtt]

james ‘logan’ howlett

masterlist • x-men • 05/12/25

˚‧⁺ ･ ˖ · ୨ৎ recs two

one

𑣲 the great war I @pretty-little-mind33

When you get unwillingly administered the cure, you find solace in someone you don't think you deserve to see again.

𑣲 dear reader I @/pretty-little-mind33

You think Logan hates you but all he's doing is saving you from himself. He didn't think his plan would explode in his face.

𑣲 redamancy I @little-miss-dilf-lover

you often worry you can never keep up with your husband's continuous acts of love and care, your attempts always seeming to come up short. logan catches on and shows you that there’s nothing for you to prove.

𑣲 between your thighs I @logansbaby

𑣲 practice I @selfcarecap

Your roommate Logan lets you practise giving a blowjob on him for your date with another guy.

𑣲 sharing is caring ft. peter parker I @/selfcarecap

Your new teammate Peter Parker has a huge crush on you, and your boyfriend Logan has always wanted to watch someone else fuck you. It’s Peter’s birthday and Logan decides to share.

𑣲 muse I @/selfcarecap

Logan would never admit it to anyone, but over the course of his long life he has attempted to draw maybe once or twice. He hasn’t done it in years, maybe even decades, but he’s struck by inspiration when he meets you. Of course, no one can know that Wolverine draws, so he does it in the dead of night, sliding anonymous envelopes with the finished drawings of you under your door. When he sees how much you love them, he wonders if you could also love the person behind them. 

𑣲 suspension bridge effect I @d1stalker

You saved one of the younger mutants during a mission, and now he's obsessed with you, much to Logan's dismay

𑣲 a peaceful repose I @/d1stalker

After some time away on a mission, Logan comes home, and all he wants to do is be around you

𑣲 all of you, all of me I @/d1stalker

In a world of black and white, the only person who could bring colour to your life is the last one who'd want to.

𑣲 never is a promise I @joelsgoldrush

You are everything Logan isn’t: sweet, trouble-free, much younger—and, to top it off, Charles' caregiver.

𑣲 epiphany I @/joelsgoldrush

Superheroes and mutants weren’t enough. No—the universe had to throw in soulmates who share scars. Fantastic, right? Except yours had vanished, only to mysteriously reappear with the arrival of a new face: the “Worst” Logan Howlett, fresh from another earth.

𑣲 give me all of that ultraviolence I @/joelsgoldrush

You give Logan head for the first time.

𑣲 guilty pleasure I @/joelsgoldrush

After saving Earth-10005 from impending disaster, Wade convinces Logan, the alcoholic and easily irritated mutant, to stick around for a while. He’s convinced that nothing good can come out of this experience, until he meets you: the charming bartender with a soft spot for swearing that matches his own. Suddenly, sticking around doesn’t seem so bad after all.

𑣲 birds of a feather I @eufezco

the tva erased you from your timeline when logan died, you've been living in the void since then.

𑣲 kid? I @not-neverland06

You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong.

𑣲 you’re not her I @/not-neverland06

You hate him, you really fucking hate him at first. He’s cruel and constantly reminds you that you’ll never be the hero he knew. You’re not her and he’s made that abundantly clear. But what are you supposed to do when he’s suddenly your new roommate and you have no choice but to wake up to his face every day?

𑣲 help me hold onto you I @guiltyasdave

Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

𑣲 sugar, sugar part 2 part 3 I @eupheme

Your eccentric neighbor Wade may drive you a little up the wall… but, you’re willing to put up with him if it means he’ll introduce you to his new, grumpy-looking roommate.

𑣲 casual I @/eupheme

It doesn’t matter that your heart flips when you look at him. It’s Logan. It’s just casual.

𑣲 truth serum I @skywalkerslvt

You and Logan, drugged with truth serum, get trapped in separate cells during a mission.

𑣲 dreams unwind, loves a state of mind I @moonlight-prose

they told him to change the future, to right the wrongs that the world caused. but he didn't do it for them. he did it for the chance to see his lover one more time. even if he shared a different history than them.

𑣲 in the refrigerator light part 2 part 3 I @thebestandworstdayofjune

you are somehow unprepared to run into Logan while on the quest for a midnight snack... in the house you both live in.

𑣲 old!man logan I @rqnarok

𑣲 breeding kink I @/rqnarok

𑣲 innocent!reader I @bpmiranda

𑣲 taste I @logansluvr

You won’t admit it, but it stung when you realized you were just a placeholder while Logan waited for Jean AGAIN. Now that she has him, she realizes that no matter how hard she tries there will always be you somewhere on him…Or Jean and Logan both fucked themselves over while you enjoy the aftermath.

𑣲 mr. darcy I @pandapetals

halloween costumes, logan dresses up as Mr. Darcy, pride and prejudice

𑣲 haircut I @/pandapetals

Logan's hair has grown out and he wants you to cut it.

𑣲 need you close I @wadewnstonwilson

when your busy schedule leaves logan feeling neglected, he craves your attention in his own way—by showing up with small, thoughtful gestures and lingering touches that hint at his pent-up need. despite his rugged exterior, logan’s vulnerability shines through as he tries to remind you he’s still there, waiting.

𑣲 something happens and i’m head over heels I @logaenhowlett

What starts off as a simple favour to watch Laura’s cat sends Logan into a spiral as you continue to make your way into his life.

𑣲 runaway bride I @pedroscurls

on the day of your wedding, you find out that your maid of honor and husband-to-be has been hooking up behind your back... and you run directly into the arms of a stranger to help you cope with the sudden betrayal.

𑣲 into the unknown part 2 part 3 I @yxtkiwiyxt

Logan becomes emotionally constipated when he accidentally hurts you during one of his nightmares.

𑣲 say yes to heaven I @happy74827

Sometimes all it takes is one look. One gesture. One word. One action. To remind them that not everyone sees them the same, and It's enough to send a person over the edge.

𑣲 she wolf I @gothgoblinbabe

You've got a crush on your best friend and he's a bit of a dick. He regrets it and tries to apologize but you're already trying to push yourself to move on any way you can, even if it's in some shady club you'd never been to before.

𑣲 scars I @sacredsorceress

every person has a soulmate. after settling in the future that he saved, logan starts to consider his next mission when a suspicious mark appears on him.

𑣲 snapshot I @shellshocklove

short on money for rent, your joke about starting an only fans account, to earn some extra cash, goes over logan's head. but when an accident with charles puts your life in danger, logan takes you up on your offer.

𑣲 can’t sleep love I @loganficsonly

[claramelooo]

WOVEN FATES (19/20)

Heeeey, my beloved readers!! Well, this chapter is so fucking intense... I don't even know how starts to describe that. So, it's better you guys read it hahaha 😂

Enjoy it <3

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Pairing: AgathaRio x Fem Reader

Warnings: angst, blood, hate sex, anal sex, sex and sex (did I ever said sex?)

Summary: after you wake up you demand explanations, but of course the plan doesn't go as you expected.

Curse

Darkness was the first thing you felt when consciousness returned.

A deep void, like falling endlessly, trapped between reality and oblivion. Wanda’s words still echoed in your mind, blending with the whispers of Alice and Billy.

"You're being used."

The sentence was poison, seeping into your thoughts, corroding every shred of certainty you had.

A source.

That’s what you were, wasn’t it?

Just a source of power, a reservoir of energy to be exploited. That’s what they said. But if that were true, then why were you here? Why were you wrapped in warmth and softness, instead of cold and loneliness?

Your hands gripped the soft sheets beneath you. Sheets? Your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, heart pounding against your ribs.

You were awake.

Alive.

Your eyes opened slowly, and the faint glow of ambient light spilled into your vision. The room around you was familiar—the white walls with dark accents. So elegant, so refined.

Their room.

Shit. You missed this—the unmistakable scent of spices mixed with something floral.

And then, you felt it.

Hands.

Hands gliding gently across your skin, tracing your arm as if to make sure you were still there.

A tender touch, a possessive one.

Your body was cocooned in warmth, protected by presences you knew better than anything else in the world.

"There, there, little one. You're safe now." Agatha’s low, raspy voice brushed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. Her tone was a mix of relief and control, as if she were reclaiming something that should’ve never been taken away.

Rio was on the other side, her touch just as present, running through your hair, along the curves of your face.

"Your mommies are here now, darling." Her whisper was both a promise and a reminder that no matter what anyone said—no matter what you were—you were still theirs.

The warmth around you vanished the moment you pulled away.

Their touch still burned on your skin, but now it was different—it wasn’t comfort. It was a reminder. A reminder that everything you felt, everything you were, had been shaped by them.

Rio's eyes widened as you slipped out of her arms. Her face flickered between surprise and hurt, but Agatha was the first to recover.

"Sweetheart, please—"

"Don't call me that!" Your voice cut through the air like a blade. "Don’t you dare call me that!"Anger bubbled inside you—hot, suffocating.

Your chest heaved, your heart pounding as if trying to break free from your ribs.

The room that once felt safe now seemed claustrophobic, like the walls were closing in on you.

You swayed slightly, dizzy from the sudden movement, but kept your posture stiff.

They were both watching you, waiting, like you were a child throwing a tantrum.

"You lied to me." Your voice was lower now, but so much heavier than shouting. It carried something far worse—disappointment. "You made me believe that I was... that this was real. My feelings... It was all just a spell, wasn't it? A cheap trick to keep me close. That’s all it was, right?"

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, then closed it, carefully choosing her words.

Rio, always the less calculated one, stepped forward. "It’s not like that—"

"No?"

You laughed bitterly, taking a step back."Then explain it to me, Rio."

Her name sounded foreign. It felt wrong to call your Mama that.

"Explain why it feels like I'm dying when I’m not with you! Why I wake up drained after a night’s sleep, like a part of me has been ripped away! Is that just a side effect of this shit?"

The silence that followed was deafening.

Rio looked away.

Agatha sighed, suddenly looking older than ever.

“Fuck.” Rio muttered under her breath, silently cursing Wanda. "Please, sweetheart… sit down. You’re still weak." The green witch asked gently.

You obeyed—not because you wanted to, but because your body needed to.

"We… we never meant for this to happen—" You let out a sarcastic laugh, your head pounding.

"Oh, of course. Because the plan was to drain me dry until I dropped dead!" You were furious. So angry your teeth clenched tight.

Agatha breathed in deeply, searching for patience. She’d need it. You were her babygirl—she should know how to handle you. But she was shaken too.

Exhausted.

Rio closed her eyes for a moment, like your words had physically hurt her. When she looked back at you, there was a raw honesty in her gaze. Almost helpless.

"It wasn’t supposed to be like this," Rio admitted, her voice tight, her hands wringing together like they were looking for something to hold onto.

"At the beginning… yes. You were a source. Your untouched energy was something we couldn’t ignore. But then, you became—"

"Everything." Agatha finished softly. The weight of exhaustion hung on her shoulders, making every word feel heavier. "So much so that the plan didn’t matter. Power didn’t matter. At some point, you stopped being a means to an end."

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. "And I’m supposed to believe that?"

"I love you."

Just like that.

So sudden, it stole your breath.

So sudden, you took a step back.

Rio’s confession came as a whisper, but it thundered in your mind.

"I love you," she repeated, firmer now. "No matter what they told you. No matter what you think about us... I love you. And so does your Mommy."

Your throat tightened. The temptation to surrender, to close your eyes and let yourself be held again, was nearly unbearable.

But no.

They couldn’t just say those words—those three fucking words you so badly wanted to hear—and expect everything to be forgiven.

You shook your head, eyes falling to the floor in disbelief.

They unbalanced you so easily.

Fuck.

"It’s not that simple," you whispered, trying to keep your voice steady. "You can’t just show up in armor on a white horse and say that. Not after everything."

Yes. They could.

Your heart beat wildly, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

Emotion.

Ready to fall.

They loved you. Your mommies. The women who saved you—and held you captive at the same time—from a cruel, hard life.

But you knew you had to resist.

Because it hadn’t been easy for you. None of this.

The one with blue eyes had a shaky breath, and you couldn’t tell if it was from anger or just exhaustion.

"Then tell us," Agatha spoke, her voice low but steady.

"What do we have to do for you to forgive us?"

You stared at them, eyes sharp.

They were drained, weary, almost pleading.

They weren’t in a position to demand anything.

You took a deep breath, your decision already made.

"On your knees."

The order was clear. Irrefutable.

Agatha kept her gaze fixed on you, as if she could intimidate you, bend you, make you submissive again with her presence alone. But no longer. You were no longer that defenseless girl who clung to them for safety without question.

"What?" Agatha’s incredulous voice came out hoarse, spitting the t, laced with wounded pride.

You tilted your head slightly, looking down at her. "I’m sure your ears still work fine despite your age. On your knees. Both of you."

Rio closed her eyes for a moment, exhaling heavily. She was tired, yes, but you saw something else in her—redemption. A genuine need to be forgiven. To have her little girl back in her arms.

Unlike Agatha, who always needed to be in control, Rio was willing to bow if that’s what it took to bring you back to them.

The artist was the first to give in. Slowly, she slid down to the floor, her eyes locked on yours—dark chocolate, burning with desire and despair. A shiver ran down your spine.

That was the power they had over you.

The same power that kept you captive and enchanted, even now, when you should be hating them.

Agatha, however, hesitated. Her fists clenched at her sides. Small flickers of purple energy vibrated beneath her hands, a reflection of the storm raging inside her. You noticed the faint tremble in her fingers.

She was resisting.

You stepped closer, shrinking the space between you. "What’s the matter, Mommy? Is this too humiliating for you?" Your voice was low, almost teasing. "Because it was for me. When I found out what you did. When I realized I couldn’t live without you, but you could live without me. Without pain. Without despair."

Agatha’s jaw clenched, but she said nothing.

"You used me." Your voice was thick with a mix of rage and need. "You tied my heart to yours, made me dependent on something that was never real. But you? You remain free. You think that’s fair?"

The silence stretched.

Finally, with visible reluctance, Agatha dropped to her knees. You watched every small movement—the way her shoulders tensed, the unevenness of her breath. Seeing Agatha Harkness yield to you was intoxicating.

You crossed your arms, chin raised. "If you want my forgiveness. If you truly want me back. You know what you have to do. Bind your hearts to mine. Feel what I feel. Hurt like I hurt."

Rio swallowed hard, her expression vulnerable. "If we do this... there's no going back. We’ll be bound forever."

"Exactly." You looked down at them, a slow smile creeping onto your lips. "And only then, will I decide if I forgive you or not."

You waited. Watched as Rio looked at Agatha, and something passed silently between them—something you couldn’t quite decipher, but it didn’t matter.

You had already won this battle.

The silence broke with the sound of glinting metal sliding from its sheath.

Rio raised the curved dagger, the ancient blade gleaming in the dim room light.

"Blood for blood," she intoned, her voice echoing like an ancestral chant. The blade whispered across your palm with a wet kiss. You didn’t flinch. The pain was sharp, sweet, necessary.

Her eyes were fixed on you—devoted, lustful, and surrendered. The witch looked ethereal, dressed in shadows and power, her hair slicked to her face with sweat.

So beautiful it hurt.

She didn’t hesitate. Drew the blade across her own palm, a precise, ceremonial cut. Blood spilled in thick, dark red streams, pulsing with raw energy. She bit her lip and moaned softly at the pain.

Or was it pleasure?

Then it was Agatha’s turn. Her pale, elegant fingers gripped the dagger, and the hesitation was palpable. The witch’s pride was her armor—one now shattered.

She sliced her palm firmly. She didn’t moan. She didn’t falter. She simply breathed deeply and let her blood mingle with Rio’s, dripping to the ground, sealing the first phase of the ritual.

You watched from above, your body on high alert, breath trembling, latent power buzzing on your skin like electricity.

Fuck.

Sexy as fuck.

The crimson red contrasted perfectly with their skin. Your mouth watered, and you couldn’t understand why it was affecting you this much.

Rio crawled toward you, her knees sliding across the cold floor. Every movement was soaked in reverence and lust. Her gaze was submissive and hungry, her mouth slightly open, blood still dripping from her hand. When she reached you, she said nothing.

She just looked at you.

Like you were her goddess. Her executioner and her salvation.

You barely noticed when Agatha, still kneeling, took your left hand—the one with the scar from the day you cut yourself with glass on set.

Rio watched, her fingers tracing the scar's outline with devoted tenderness. "Aggie was so greedy that day," she murmured, her voice husky, almost a moan. "Sucking every drop of your blood..."

Her touch on your finger made you shiver. The heat, the power, the desire… it all swirled into a delicious and dangerous storm.

"Now it’s Mama’s turn."

Then she brought your hand to her lips.

And licked.

She licked with hunger, with devotion, like she was devouring you. The blood. The past. The pain. She drank it all in.

"Bound. Forever," Agatha growled, more to herself than to you.

Rio pressed her wounded palm against Agatha’s, then against yours. The blood mixed—hot and alive.

"Three hearts. One curse."

The pain was lightning. You fell backward, your spine colliding with the marble altar as you saw everything:

Agatha, as a child, hiding her tears, trying to be brave as Evanora prepared to burn her alive.

A young Rio, accepting her fate, seeing her own face transformed into Lady Death for the first time.

You, curled inside a closet, listening to screams that never ended. Wishing your mother would come back.

The connection was a volcano. An abyss. A womb.

“Fuck!” you moaned. “What is this?” Your mind was foggy, a mixture of lust and confusion.

Rio smiled wickedly. “That, darling… is what happens when three souls decide to bleed together.”

She was panting, her eyes glassy with power and longing, her hand still pressed to your skin.

Magic vibrated around you—purple, green, black—a sensual mist that tinged the air, made the floor quake, and your skin burn. Every beat of your heart ached… because now, it no longer beat alone.

Agatha approached, her blue eyes wild, almost feral. She pulled your body downward.

And you fell to your knees, now just as surrendered as they were.

"You little plague…” she murmured, voice low and hoarse, full of reverence and restrained fury. “You poisoned us with your own pain. Made us addicted to your care. Who’s the real witch between us?”

“You chose to start this,” you whispered, drawn to them by something primal, still dizzy from the vision of having them both at your feet. “Now finish it.”

Rio slipped her knees between your legs, her bloodstained fingers caressing your bare thigh. “Oh. No. You misunderstood.” The taller one said, her words as soft as a snake ready to strike.

“We’re going to do more than finish you, little one,” she purred, her smile feline. “We’re going to start over. Do it all again.”

Your Mama's fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of your neck, a caress heavy with promises.

You gasped, surrendering fully to her touch.

Agatha came from behind, her mouth pressed against your neck, biting in that blend of brutality and softness that only she could master—a possessive gesture that made you moan.

The heat of her body against yours was hypnotic. You could feel her nipples, hard as stone, against your back.

The elder witch’s fingers wrapped firmly around your throat, forcing you to look straight ahead—right into Rio’s hungry eyes.

“Never free again,” Agatha whispered, her voice sounding like a pagan prayer, an ancient spell murmured against your hot skin. “Not you. Not us.”

“Three hearts,” Rio added, and her fingers slid between your legs with a slowness that was almost wicked, as if each second of that surrender had to be carved into you. “One curse.”

You arched, your body igniting like incense on coals—burning, fragrant, unraveling in pleasure.

The room pulsed to the rhythm of something older than desire itself.

The scar on your finger throbbed.

But now, it wasn’t pain.

It was ecstasy.

It was magic.

It was belonging.

It was love.

Three hearts had been sealed. An unbreakable, eternal bond. A fate stitched together with blood and lust. This time, three hearts had bled. Three hearts now bound to one another, tangled in a knot even time wouldn't dare undo.

Rio tightened her grip on the back of your neck, pulling you forward firmly—then held out her cut palm before your eyes.

Blood. Dark red. Thick. Warm.

It shimmered in the ritual light like sacred wine. It dripped, heavy, toward the already stained floor.

Your mouth opened on instinct. You were salivating.

Hungry.

Like a starving dog. Like a worshipper before an offering.

“Do it,” your Mama commanded, her voice hoarse, laced with impure reverence.

And you obeyed.

Your tongue touched the wound with a nearly desperate thirst. The taste was metallic, alive, a silenced scream. You moaned as you swallowed, a muffled and primal sound, like that of a wounded, devoted creature.

Rio watched, chest heaving, eyes locked on you—on how your face transformed as her blood slid down your mouth, dripping from your chin, staining the floor.

What a delicious mess you were.

Agatha pulled you back and turned your face with silent authority. Her eyes burned with a mix of jealousy and pure desire.

She licked the blood from your lips with the precision of someone who knew every taste you carried. And when her tongue invaded your mouth—hungry, possessive—you lost your mind.

Your moan echoed across the altar like a profane prayer—long, trembling, needy.

You began to grind against the carpeted floor, aching for something hard and thick to ride.

Agatha brought her own hand to your mouth, and this time you didn’t need to be guided. You already knew exactly what to do.

Your tongue attacked your Mommy’s palm. The blood just as thick, poisoned by the darkness of impure magic.

You moaned at the taste of sin on your tongue.

“My good girl…” she groaned low, just as needy as you were.

From that moment on, there was no turning back.

No choices. No freedom.

Only them.

Only you.

Three hearts.

One single curse.

Fueled by reckless courage, you pushed Agatha, making her sit back on her heels.

“Get on all fours,” you ordered, your voice deeper than you remembered it could be.

You saw your Mommy’s eyes flare with fury, her jaw clenched—you knew she wouldn’t give in easily. Not yet.

But then, she obeyed.

Her mature body bent forward, proud and vulnerable, like a sacred and profane offering all at once. Her round ass, dressed in luxurious garments, turned perfectly toward you.

Panting with pure anticipation, you positioned behind her, your hands grabbing her waist with the intensity of someone trying to tear out truths.

“Speak,” you demanded, your fingers digging into her skin, your hips pressing firmly into hers. “Tell me how it happened.”

She gasped. Almost moaned. But tried to hold herself together. Agatha knew exactly what you meant. How was the moment they decided to bind you to them. Forever.

“When… you ran away that day on set…” her voice broke. “When… you went after Josh… we snapped. I snapped.”

You smiled at the memory and began caressing the waistband of her clothes, threatening to pull those useless fabrics off her.

You traced the seam of her outfit, making her tremble. “Speak clear, Mommy.”

“We wanted… an excuse,” she confessed, her fingers curling against the floor. “An excuse to hurt you. Just a small cut. Just enough to bind you to us.”

Oh.

There it was.

That small confession that set your chest on fire.

Without patience, you pushed her hips up, yanking down her pants and panties together. And all you could see was your Mommy’s pale, milky skin, begging to be touched by you.

You pulled her closer, your bodies colliding hard. “And what happened then?”

She moaned loudly, losing control for a moment. “Fuck… you were already cut…”

You froze for a second, heart pounding against your chest. “What did you say?”

“When we saw you… that night… your finger…” Agatha turned slightly, eyes glistening. “You were already hurt. It was a sign. That you were meant to be ours. Woven just for us.”

Your heart stopped.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You couldn’t even begin to describe what those words did to you.

It was as if something tore open inside your chest—but instead of pain, there was feverish warmth, something insane, between ecstasy and despair.

You heard those words like an ancient prophecy. Like every time you cried alone in the dark, every scream stifled in your pillow, all those years believing no one would ever choose you—they had all just been the prelude… to this.

To them.

To that damned and magical knot now burning in your flesh.

And the worst part?

You love it.

Your heart beat too fast, way too fast—not from fear, but from twisted pleasure, rooted in the filthiest corner of your soul.

You didn’t know if you wanted to scream or moan.

If you wanted to run… or crawl back to it.

Because if this was a prison… It was the most beautiful, the warmest, the most intoxicating one you’d ever known.

It was love.

It was madness.

And it was the kind of thing you swore you'd never accept. But now you were here, knees on the ground, the taste of blood on your lips and tears in your eyes from sheer fear and emotion, hearing Agatha say you were made for them.

And part of you wanted to scream yes.

Yes, I was.

Yes, you broke me before you even touched me.

Yes, I was born to be yours.

To bleed for you.

To die—and be reborn—by your hands.

It was sick. It was wrong.

And it was everything you ever wanted.

Agatha licked her own fingers, as if reenacting the moment. “I couldn’t resist. I sucked the blood dripping from your fingertip… and the second it touched my tongue…” She gasped, her eyes rolling back. “You became ours. Forever.”

You grabbed her hair and pulled gently, forcing her to look at you. “And Mama?” you provoked. “Did she take part too?”

Rio, who had been silently observing everything, approached from behind like a ravenous shadow.

"I drank what was left on your skin while you slept," she murmured, her fingers sliding over your hip, urging you to invade Agatha's pussy with your fingers.

"We knew it was cruel." Her Mama flicked her tongue along the curve of your ear. "We knew it was selfish. But... we didn’t know it would hurt this much..."

You felt their bodies pressed against you, like a temple set ablaze.

But now, this temple was all yours.

They had marked you. But now, you were the one in control.

You struggled to breathe as your Mama ground against you from behind, the curve of your ass rubbing perfectly against her clit.

Caressing the flesh in front of you, you whispered, "What do you want, Mommy?"

Agatha gripped the plush carpet, her skin prickling under your wandering hand.

"Honey, Mommy needs you... needs your fingers..."

You smiled, slow and wicked, as your fingers traced Agatha’s soaked entrance, feeling how she already pulsed for you.

"My fingers?" you repeated, dragging your fingertips in torturous circles without penetrating her yet. "Just that?"

Agatha bit her lip, her hips twitching against your hand, but you held firm, denying her what she craved most.

"Please," she moaned, the plea rough and broken.

Rio chuckled darkly behind you, her hands gripping your hips hard as she rutted against your back, your ass grinding her clit.

"She’s so wet for you, baby," your Mama purred, teeth grazing your shoulder. "I don’t think she can wait any longer."

You finally relented, sliding two fingers into Agatha in one deep, firm thrust. She screamed, her body arching like a drawn bow, nails clawing the carpet.

"Yes, my good girl..." she panted, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy.

Rio didn’t waste time. Her hands slid to your waist, holding you steady as she rolled her hips, grinding against you in a filthy rhythm. You could feel her heat, the slickness staining your back, and it only made you hungrier.

"You’re controlling her so well..." Rio murmured, her voice a growl in your ear. "Make her moan louder. Make her beg."

You obeyed, quickening your pace inside Agatha, your fingers curling to hit that spot that made her tremble.

"M-More!" Agatha sobbed, legs shaking. "Honey, please—"

"What else do you want, Mommy?" you teased, adding a third finger, stretching her wider.

"You!" she near-howled, eyes glazed with pleasure-tears. "I need all of you!"

Rio laughed, dark and satisfied, before biting your nape. "She’s so desperate... So yours."

You knew Agatha was close. Her body was taut, her moans louder, rougher. And when you finally pressed just right, she shattered.

Her orgasm hit like lightning, her body seizing violently, fingers tearing at the carpet like it was her only anchor. You didn’t stop, fucking her through it, prolonging every wave until she was whimpering, oversensitive and twitching.

Behind you, Rio was just as lost, rutting against your back frantically, her moans muffled against your skin.

You smirked, triumphant, as Rio finally tipped over the edge, her teeth sinking into your shoulder to stifle her cries.

"Now, mommies need to have fun too, don’t they?" Rio slid her bruised hand between your thighs, squeezing just to feel the slickness there.

She laughed, dark and honeyed, as her fingers plunged into you without mercy. "So dripping for us, my devoted little slut..." She pinched your swollen lips, making you gasp.

Agatha, still lying beside you, rose with that predatory grace only she possessed. Her blue eyes burned with renewed hunger.

"You think you can dominate me, honey?" She raked her nails down your thighs, leaving red marks. "Think you can reduce me to this? A whimpering, begging bitch who’s yours?"

Your heart raced. You tried to answer, but Rio was already moving, straddling your face with that wicked smile.

"No, no. No more talking." She lowered her hips, smothering you with her soaked cunt. "Our turn now."

Her scent flooded your senses—salty, sweet, hers. You opened your mouth instinctively, tongue lapping at her folds as Rio rode your face in slow, torturous rolls.

"That’s it, baby... lick properly. Like a good girl."

Meanwhile, Agatha settled between your legs, her long fingers sliding through your slick with cruel calm.

"You left us so hungry..." She pushed two fingers into you at once, no warning, making your back arch. "Think it’s fair we suffer?"

You moaned against Rio, the sound muffled by her heat. Agatha smirked, picking up her pace, her fingers hitting that perfect spot inside you.

"We want to hear you beg, darling." Rio yanked your hair up just enough for you to gasp. "Do it."

You panted, drooling, lips swollen from effort. "P-Please—"

"Please what?" Agatha crooked her fingers, hitting that spongy spot inside you, making you scream.

"Fuck! D-Don’t— Don’t stop! Please, mommies... use me!"

They exchanged a look above you, satisfied.

"There she is..." Rio slammed back down on your face, faster now, her hips slapping your chin. "Good girl."

Agatha, meanwhile, added a third finger, stretching you until pain bled into pleasure.

You were a sweaty, needy mess.

Their scent, Rio’s weight on your mouth, Agatha’s fingers ruining you—it was too much. Your body shook, muscles clenching, your mind reduced to pure instinct.

"Gonna cum, aren’t you?" Agatha snarled, her fingers now brutal. "Then cum. Cum like the obedient little bitch you are."

Rio locked her thighs around your head, her own moans pitching higher. "Cum with Mama, filthy girl."

And you obeyed.

Your orgasm hit like a hurricane, body seizing violently, your cries muffled by Rio’s cunt as she came too, her release dripping down your face.

Agatha didn’t stop, fucking you through it, dragging out every second until you were sobbing, overstimulated and twitching.

Finally, they stilled.

Rio slid off your face, collapsing beside you, while Agatha slowly withdrew her fingers, bringing them to her mouth to suck your taste off with a smirk.

"That was... very good." Rio exhaled with a half-sated smile. "But Mama wants more." She knelt on the floor again, crawling over the carpet until she loomed over you.

"Up, pet. On all fours." She patted your thigh three times, positioning you exactly where she wanted. "Mama wants to try something, sweetheart."

Rio shot a wicked grin at her wife, who rose and went to their dresser, pulling out—

A strap.

Black.

Thick.

Massive.

You gasped, your ass instinctively lifting, and Rio cackled.

"So responsive..." She stroked your skin. "Mama wants to claim you every way possible." Her lips brushed your nape with devotion, goosebumps erupting down your spine.

Agatha sits at the edge of the bed, legs spread like a flower. A sharp slap lands on your ass. “Crawl to your Mommy.”

You obey.

Now face-to-face with her swollen, glistening cunt, your tongue slips out instinctively, ravenous for her again.

Rio smacks your ass hard, leaving the flesh quivering. “Look at this bitch already offering her ass without being told,” she laughs, stroking the red mark with her fingers. “Gonna beg for this cock, aren’t you, pet?”

You moan, arching deeper, your body betraying your need. Agatha, seated on the edge of the bed with her thighs spread, slaps them twice.

“Crawl here, slut. Come clean Mommy’s pussy before you take your Mama's cock.”

You obey, dragging yourself across the carpet like a bitch in heat. When you’re close, your tongue darts out automatically, worshiping her swollen lips.

“That’s it, my greedy little whore,” Agatha gasps, fisting your hair and grinding your face into her. “Get that tongue in my ass too, you filthy thing. I want you everywhere.”

Fuck.

The women are relentless.

You feel yourself throbbing, something inside you begging to be consumed.

Taken. Claimed.

As you obey, frantically licking between her lips, Rio positions herself behind you. The sound of a leather harness tightening makes you shiver.

You feel Rio’s fingers trace your rim, sliding one inside slowly, making you clench and swallow her perfectly.

“Shh, that’s it, sweetheart. So good,” Rio praises, stroking your soaked pussy, drawing another moan. She chuckles, the sound like music. “See? When I tease you here, your little ass opens right up. Your whole body’s begging for it.”

Instantly, you grind back, taking two of Rio’s fingers.

“Look at the size of this cock for this needy slut,” Rio taunts, rubbing the thick black strap against your dripping entrance. “Gonna cry when it’s all the way in, huh?”

Agatha yanks your hair, forcing eye contact. Her gaze is glassy with lust. “She loves it, my love. Bet her tight little ass is clenching around nothing… desperate to be stretched, aren’t you, baby?”

All you manage is a broken “Yes” before Rio slams into you, ripping a raw scream from your throat.

“FUCK YES!” Agatha shouts, grinding her clit against your face. “Stuff that tight little ass! Make her feel who’s in charge!”

Rio grips your hips and pounds mercilessly, every thrust bottoming out. “You like that, baby whore? Like being reshaped around my cock?”

Fuck.

Your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Fuck. Fuck. God. Yes! Please—use all my holes!” You scream against Agatha, your tongue still working her automatically as your body is destroyed from behind.

“That’s it, my pet. Suck Mommy’s clit like the good little cunt-slut you are,” Agatha moans, nails digging into your scalp.

Rio picks up the pace, hips slamming into you. “I wanna hear this bitch scream! Scream, slut! Scream who’s fucking you!”

Fuck.

No.

This is too much.

You feel like you’ll die.

The thick cock plunging in and out, splitting you open.

Rio’s rhythm is relentless—every thrust calculated to hit that spot that makes your legs shake. You’re being devoured by them, torn between Agatha’s tongue and Rio’s strap destroying you from behind.

It’s too much.

It’s perfect.

“MAMA! MAMA’S FUCKING ME!” you howl, tears streaming.

Agatha loses her mind, teetering on the edge of a violent climax. “YES, FUCK! STUFF HER LITTLE ASS! BREAK THIS WHORE WIDE OPEN!”

When the orgasm hits her, it’s like an earthquake—her body convulses, but she quickly composes herself and climbs off the bed.

Rio lands a brutal slap on your ass, flesh jiggling. “Enough playing, pet. Get on the bed and spread those legs,” she orders, pulling the black strap free with a wet, filthy sound that makes you whimper.

You obey instantly, crawling to the center of the bed, legs spread, body still trembling. Agatha returns, adjusting a shimmering purple strap around her hips. The contrast is divine—Rio, brutal and domineering; Agatha, elegantly cruel.

“Look at me,” Agatha commands, gripping your chin. “That ass belongs to Mama, but Mommy wants your cunt.”

She rubs the purple strap’s head against your swollen lips, and you don’t hesitate, opening your mouth to lick and suck like a good girl.

“That’s it, my greedy little slut,” Agatha gasps, tangling her fingers in your hair. “Get it nice and wet for Mommy to wreck that tight little pussy.”

Rio, impatient, is already behind you, the black strap dripping with lube and your own slick. “Let’s fill this little witch from both ends,” she snarls, lining the tip at your ass again.

Agatha doesn’t wait.

The moment you release the purple strap from your mouth, she presses its head to your entrance, circling slowly. “Ready to take both, love? Think you can handle it?”

Fuck.

You’re not.

Fuck.

Is this really happening?

Fuck.

All you choke out is a “Yes”—you couldn’t say anything else—before Rio rams the black strap into your ass with a brutal thrust, making you shriek. Agatha doesn’t hold back—once your body adjusts, she drives the purple strap into your pussy, inch by inch, until you’re utterly filled.

“HOLY FUCK!” You roar. God, this is too good!

“FUCK, LOOK AT HER TAKING BOTH!” Rio shouts, gripping your hips hard.

Agatha moans loudly, eyes fluttering shut. “My God, our girl’s so fucking tight,” she whispers, starting a slow, torturous rhythm. “Tell Mommy how good it feels. Tell me.” Her voice is sly, coaxing a needy, drawn-out whine from you.

Your tongue surrenders the space in your mouth, proving what an obedient bitch-in-heat you are.

“Yes, Mommy! Yes! Fuck—so good!” You sob, eyes rolling as both straps hit your sweet spots in sync.

Rio, of course, has no patience for gentleness. She pounds hard and fast, each thrust driving Agatha’s purple strap deeper into your G-spot.

“That’s it, my love! Wreck her ass while I ruin that pretty cunt!” Agatha moans, digging her nails into your thighs. “I want her coming on both of us!”

You’re lost in a storm of sensation—the delicious burn of Rio’s black strap splitting your ass, Agatha’s purple strap grinding your deepest spot, their voices snarling filth in your ears.

“Who owns you, huh?” Rio growls, smacking your ass hard, snapping you back to awareness. “Who’s your queen? Your goddess?” She speeds up.

“YOU!” you scream, clawing the sheets. “You, Mommies!”

Rio yanks your hair back, forcing your head up. Agatha sinks her teeth into your neck with a satisfied growl.

“Oh, Mommies! It hurts! Fuck! It hurts, but it’s so good!” Your mouth runs wild, your brain erased by their dominance.

You’re a dumb slut.

But you’re their dumb slut.

"That's it, our little slut," Agatha gasped, picking up the pace. "Now fucking cum! Cum on your mommies' cocks!"

There was no resisting.

How could you?

All this time, everything you'd done—every act of obedience—had been the spell controlling your mind. But now, more than ever, you wanted to obey.

Not because of the spell.

Because you belonged to them now. And they belonged to you.

Three hearts.

One curse.

Your body erupted in a violent orgasm, your walls clamping down on their straps as if trying to keep them inside you forever. Rio and Agatha didn’t stop, fucking you through your climax until their own moans grew louder, rougher.

Finally, they pulled out at the same time, leaving you to collapse face-first onto the bed, a mess of fluids dripping from your wrecked holes.

You fell back against Agatha’s body as she gathered your limp, exhausted form, cradling your head against her chest.

"Our good girl," she murmured, pulling you into a clumsy kiss. "You have no idea how much Mommy missed you, darling. Mommy loves you so much..."

There it was.

Her confession.

And the smile she gave you was so bright.

So real.

You would never dare doubt those words.

Then Rio wrapped around you as if you were made of glass. The melancholic artist, so cruel just minutes ago, now looked at you like you were the most precious painting she’d ever created.

She brushed the sweat-damp hair from your forehead with fingers still smudged in dried blood and whispered against your skin:

"My little princess."

You closed your eyes. And for the first time... there was no weight.

No exhaustion.

Just warmth.

And the absurd, almost terrifying sensation of being whole.

Rio rocked you gently while Agatha fetched a damp cloth, cleaning between your thighs with extreme care, wiping away the blood, the mess. You whimpered softly—not in pain, but in comfort.

In devotion.

"You were so good," Agatha whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "So strong."

You wanted to laugh. Or cry. Maybe both.

How could you feel like this after everything? After the pain, the madness, the blood?

Whole.

You felt powerful.

And it wasn’t borrowed, like those times you’d faked control.

This time, it was real.

You had surrendered. You had been claimed. And yet, here, with their hands tending to you... you felt like you’d won.

Rio smoothed warm lavender-scented cream over your marked skin, massaging the tender flesh between your thighs where the night’s intensity still pulsed.

"Sore?" she asked, and you shook your head, pouting.

"Mmm... but I liked it."

She grinned, wide and bright, as if you’d just whispered the sweetest secret in the world.

"You're so brave... It's hard to try new things like this for the first time. Fear can get in the way. But you're special, aren't you?"

The smile she gave you was laced with pride, with a love so deep you nearly forgot how to breathe.

Agatha lay beside you, pulling you both into her arms. Her embrace enveloped you completely—a nest, a sanctuary.

"I knew," she murmured. "From the very first day. That you were a special girl. So smart. So creative. You'll have the world." Mommy promises.

You nestled between them, kissing Rio’s shoulder and gripping Agatha’s hand tight.

Closing your eyes, you surrendered to the heat of their bodies, to the mingled scents of magic, damp earth, and lavender.

Rio kissed your forehead. Agatha tangled her fingers with yours. And you, between them, sighed like someone who had finally come home.

There was no more pain. No more doubt.

Just this.

This twisted love.

This eternal spell.

This prison built from the most perfectly perverse materials—desire, fear, madness... and care.

And you accepted it.

Accepted it like swallowing poison knowing it was the only thing that could ever heal you.

Accepted it because this curse... was the best thing that had ever happened to you.

It was the touch that warmed your skin even on the coldest nights.

Their gaze that stripped you bare only to dress you in something better, something stronger, something truer.

The sense of belonging you’d spent your whole life searching for—and only found here, on your knees at their altar, marked in blood and pleasure.

It was wrong.

It was dangerous.

And yet, it was everything.

It was everything you’d ever wanted.

~*~

Well, in their defense, if you hadn't asked for this... you'd have your holes untouched.... Okay, maybe not 😞

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi

[stellaspectral]

Hello again! Your work is just amazing , couldn’t help throw in a second wee request I hope that’s okay!

Bayverse/ 2007/ last ronin

Leo or Raph with fem reader

Angst to comfort

Long term established relationship, have a massive argument over whatever , a very very bad argument Almost relationship ending argument , and reader storms off when the turtle says something that is so hurtful .

no contact from either party for days , then an accident happens at readers work and the turtle of choice can’t get in contact ( readers phone died) just pure panic and regret and stress from Leo/ Raph , they go to readers apartment to find it empty, que even worse stress , in the midst of the panic reader walks in with takeout or something , still upset from the argument days before and slightly confused to see how stressed and close to tears their partner is. Que to reader being swept off their feet and wherever else you deem fit! If you want a little spice in there go ahead aswell!

Thanks for reading this!!

A/N: Thank you for the sweet compliment about my writing! I went with 2007 Leo for this one since I haven’t written anything with him solo x reader. I also let it get a bit spicy at the end, but not full-on smut (though I’d be more than willing to write something more explicit with ‘07 Leo in the future 👀)

Enjoy! 💖

The Sharp Edge of a Word (angst)

💙 2007 Leonardo/Female Reader 💙

CWs: Heavy angst, verbal argument, miscommunication temporary break-up, perceived character in peril, panic attacks/anxiety spiral, hurt/comfort, and a spicy reconciliation (implied sex, but not super explicit.) All characters are aged-up.

You can’t pinpoint the exact spark that ignited this inferno, only that it’s been smoldering for weeks. A build-up of unspoken resentments and miscommunications.

And now it’s escalated with a terrifying speed.

Leo stands opposite you, his usual calm fractured, his eyes blazing with a frustration that mirrors your own. “You deliberately twist my words,” he grits out. “You make it sound like I don’t care, like you don’t matter.”

“Do I, Leo?” you shoot back, your own voice trembling with a mixture of rage and unshed tears. You clench your hands so tight that your nails dig into your palms. “Because from where I’m standing, it feels like I’m just … convenient. Someone to come home to when the world-saving is done for the day. Am I even a priority, or just part of the background scenery of your real life?”

The accusation hangs heavy, unfair perhaps. But born from a deep-seated fear that has festered in the quiet moments when he’s been distant, preoccupied.

“That’s not what I’m saying!” He throws his hands up, his voice cracking with agitation. “My family, my responsibilities as a leader, the constant threat we live under—these aren’t choices, they’re necessities! This is who I am, what I have to do to keep everyone, including you, safe!”

“And where do I fit into that grand, heroic narrative?” you cry, the tears finally breaking free, hot and stinging. “A distraction? A liability? Or an afterthought when the adrenaline wears off and you remember I exist?” You hate the shrillness in your voice, the desperate plea you hear in it.

His jaw clenches, a muscle there ticking furiously. His eyes, usually so full of warmth when they look at you, are now cold, hard. Then he delivers the blow, the words precise and devastating, striking the air from your lungs.

“Maybe you just don’t get it. Maybe you’re not capable of understanding the pressure, the stakes. My family, my duty … has to come first. It always will. If you can’t accept that—if you can’t handle what this life demands—then maybe … maybe this, us, was a mistake.”

The world tilts. Then silence. Absolute, deafening silence where your heart shatters. A mistake. Your years together, the love you’ve built, the sanctuary you thought you had in each other—is a mistake?

“A mistake?” you whisper, the fight completely draining out of you, leaving behind a gaping, icy void.

You see a flicker in his eyes—something akin to panic dawning, a horrified realization of what he’s just said. But the poison is already seeping in, the damage done.

It’s too late.

Numbly, you turn. Your hands, clumsy and shaking, sling your purse over your shoulder. “Fine,” you choke out, refusing to make eye contact with him, “if that’s how you feel.”

You don’t look back. You can’t.

The quiet click of his bedroom door as you close it behind you feels more final, more crushing than any furious slam ever could.

You leave behind the sound of his voice calling your name.

You exit the sewers and drive back to your apartment on autopilot. There, every photo of the two of you, every trinket he’s ever given you—are all fresh stabs of pain. And that night, you don’t sleep.

You lie in your bed staring at the ceiling, replaying every word, every second, every expression on Leo’s face with masochistic accuracy. The worst part isn’t the argument. It’s how easily he said it.

A mistake.

By morning, your pillow is damp, your chest hollow. You move through your apartment like a ghost, barely noticing the sun bleeding in through the blinds. There’s a message on your phone: Leo. Just your name, spoken in a tone that’s almost … pleading. You don’t listen to it, just delete it.

You call in sick to work, citing a migraine, which isn’t entirely a lie. You don’t eat and you struggle to sleep. Lying in bed, you again stare at the ceiling, replaying his words. Your phone lies face down on the kitchen counter. You simultaneously dread and pray for it to light up with his name.

The following day, you force yourself out of bed, shower, and get dressed for work. You need the distraction, the mundane routine to keep the tidal wave of sorrow at bay. You catch your reflection in the mirror—pale, with dark circles already blooming beneath your eyes—and a fresh wave of anger surges through you.

He had no right to cast aside years of love and devotion, labeling it all as nothing more than a mistake.

The anger is a welcome shield, far better than the hollow ache. You leave your phone on the counter again. If he wants to reach you, he knows where you live.

By the third day, the anger has hardened into a grim resolve. This is it. This is your life now. You can do this; you have to. You’re a whirlwind of frantic energy, answering emails, filing reports, and volunteering for the tedious tasks nobody else wants, throwing yourself into your work.

Anything to keep your mind from wandering back to the devastating finality in Leo’s eyes.

For three days, you vanish from his world. No texts, no calls, no visits.

And in those three days, Leo unravels.

He’s called. He’s texted. Left voicemails he instantly regretted, then sent others with apologies. He can’t get through to anyone at your work. The reception desk tells him you’re not answering your extension. They won’t confirm if you’re even still there. His stomach churns.

When Donnie offers to help trace your phone, Leo nearly agrees—then refuses. It feels like crossing a line.

He’s a catastrophic wreck. The initial anger from your argument had quickly given way to a gnawing guilt, then a profound regret. Those words—he hadn’t meant them. He’d been lashing out, being defensive. Stupid. He’d told himself you needed space, that he’d give it to you.

But with each passing day, the space felt less like a cooling-off period and more like an ever-widening abyss.

His brothers watch him, their concern growing. They notice the difference—how quiet he’s become, how uncharacteristically hesitant his movements are during training. Even Raph doesn’t poke at him like he usually would. Donnie offers logical explanations. Mikey leaves cookies outside his bedroom door.

But Leo just drifts.

He barely trains, barely eats. Just paces, the image of your heartbroken face seared into his memory. He replays it all too—your tears, your voice cracking, the way your hand trembled on the doorknob before you walked out.

On the fourth day, the dam of his resolve breaks.

It’s late afternoon when Mikey bursts into the dojo, holding his phone, his face pale. “Leo! Dude, you gotta see this.”

He shoves the phone into Leo’s hand. It’s a local news live stream. A fire. A commercial building downtown, smoke billowing from the upper floors. Your building. Your office.

The world narrows to the small, bright screen. The reporter’s voice is a meaningless buzz in his ears. He sees the location at the bottom of the screen, sees the fire trucks. He hones in only on phrases like “evacuation in progress” and “several minor injuries reported.”

Panic, cold and sharp, pierces through him. He’s dialing your number before he even processes the thought, his breath catching when it goes, yet again, to voicemail. His blood runs cold. Of course it goes to voicemail; you haven’t answered him in days. He tries again. And again.

“Cell towers in that area are probably overloaded,” Donnie says, his attempt at comforting. “It’s possible her phone battery died, or she left it behind in the evacuation.”

The words he spat at you echo in his mind: Maybe this was a mistake. What if those were the last words he ever said to you? He stumbles back, feeling like for a moment, he’s about to faint.

“Leo?” Raph’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, laced with alarm.

“I have to go,” Leo chokes out.

“Whoa, hold on, Fearless,” Raph says, stepping in his path. “Let’s think for a sec. We don’t know anything yet.”

“That’s the point, Raph! I don’t know!” Leo’s voice cracks, the carefully constructed shell of the leader shattering completely. “She’s not answering. I need to … I have to see.”

Raph looks at him—really looks at him—and sees the raw panic, the fear in his older brother’s eyes. So he steps aside. “Go,” he says. “We’ve got your back.”

The journey to your apartment is a blur. Jumping across rooftops, Leo’s heart pounds as he moves with desperate, reckless speed. He pictures you hurt, scared, alone in a hospital. Pictures you thinking he doesn’t care, that he meant what he said. The thought is a fresh shard of glass in his gut with every leap he takes.

He reaches your building, scaling the familiar bricks to your fire escape. He slips open the window latch he helped you rig so he could get in and out easily, then drops silently into your living room.

His world stops.

It’s empty. Your jacket’s gone. No lights. No noise. The silence wraps around him like a noose. The sight of the undisturbed quiet is a thousand times worse than walking into a scene of chaos. It’s an absence. A void where you should be.

“No,” he breathes, a knot of ice forming in his stomach, a crushing weight settling on his chest.

He checks every room, his hope dwindling with each empty space. And there, on the kitchen counter, is your phone. Face down. He was calling a phone that wasn’t even with you.

Strength draining from his limbs, he leans against the counter, his head bowed. He is too late. He let his pride, his anger, get in the way, and now you’re gone. A choked, dry sob escapes him. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to block out the image of the burning building. Of this empty, silent apartment.

He failed. Failed to protect you, failed to love you right, and the last thing you will ever know is that he thought you were a mistake.

The sound of a key turning in the lock makes his head snap up.

You’ve always known Leo feels deeply, despite the iron wall of discipline he wears like armor. You just didn’t know what it would look like when that wall cracks.

The door swings open and you step inside, juggling two large paper bags of Chinese takeout. You kick the door shut with your heel, muttering to yourself. When you finally look up, you freeze. Because there in your kitchen is Leo.

But it’s not the angry, defensive Leo from your argument. This Leo looks shattered. His face is pale, his eyes wide and bloodshot, glistening with unshed tears. He breathes hard, bracing his hands on your counter as if it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“Leo?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. The anger you’ve been nursing for days begins to evaporate.

He doesn’t answer with words.

His arms are around you, lifting you off your feet before you can react. You let out a small gasp as he crushes you against his plastron, his face burying in the crook of your neck. You feel a tremor run through his entire body, the shudder of a man who has been to the edge of his personal hell and back.

“I thought I’d lost you,” he rasps, his voice thick and broken against your skin. “I saw the news … the fire … you weren’t answering …”

He carries you to the couch and sinks down, still holding you tightly in his lap as if you might vanish if he lets go. His hands are in your hair, on your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks as he searches your eyes, his own brimming with a relief so profound it’s painful to witness.

“My phone’s dead,” you explain, your mind slowly catching up as you place the bags on the coffee table. “I left it here. I was … I didn’t want to talk to you.” The admission feels small and petty now. “There was a fire in the server room. We all had to evacuate.”

His arms are still around you, and he’s so close it’s like he’s trying to meld his being with yours. He’s shaking. Actually shaking. His breath stutters against your shoulder. “You weren’t answering,” he says into your neck, voice broken and raw. “I thought—God, I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone.”

You go stiff. The memory of the fight is still fresh, still sour in your chest. But the way he’s holding you? It unravels something tight and painful behind your ribs.

You pull back just enough to look at him, to see the sincerity warring with the lingering terror in his eyes. “But you said it,” you whisper, the words still sharp enough to cut. “You said we were a mistake.”

His face crumples. He lets go of you with one hand to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheekbone. “No,” he says, his voice thick with self-loathing. “That’s not true. I was … I felt like you were questioning everything I am, and I said the most horrible, stupid thing I could think of to make you hurt as much as I did. The second it left my mouth, I wanted to swallow it back down. Saying that to you was the single biggest mistake of my life.”

He leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as another shudder wracks his frame. “These last few days, thinking I’d driven you away for good, were torture. But this last hour,” his voice breaks, “this last hour, believing you were in that building … believing I might never get to take it back … That wasn’t torture. That was the end of everything.”

His eyes open, and you see the truth of it there: Leo’s sheer, undiluted terror of a world without you in it. It shatters the last of your anger, the last of your hardened resolve, and the tears you’ve been holding back finally fall. But they’re not tears of pain anymore. They are tears of overwhelming, gut-wrenching relief.

“You’re not an afterthought,” he continues. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the place I go to breathe. You’re the reason I can face everything out there. You’re the anchor that keeps me from getting lost. Without you …” He shakes his head, unable to finish the thought.

You lift a hand, your fingers tangling in the blue fabric of his mask, pulling him closer. “Leo,” you murmur, your own voice trembling.

That’s all it takes.

His mouth finds yours. Full of apology and fear, and a love so fierce it steals your breath. You kiss him back with everything you have, your hands clutching his shoulders. He breaks the kiss only to pepper more across your jaw, your cheeks, your eyelids.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers against your temple. “I am so, so sorry.”

“I know,” you breathe, your heart aching. “I’m sorry, too. I pushed you.”

“Don’t,” he says, pulling back to look at you again. “Don’t apologize. You were right to be scared. I get so lost in my duties, I forget to show you what you mean to me. I’ll do better. I swear I’ll do better.”

Then, without another word, he slides one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, standing and lifting you effortlessly. You let out a surprised yelp, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck. He carries you out of the living room and into your room, laying you gently on your bed.

He follows you down, covering your body with his. “I’m not letting you go,” he murmurs. “Not tonight.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you promise, your hands coming up to frame his face, your thumbs tracing the powerful line of his jaw.

He peels away the layers of your clothing and his gear until there is nothing left between you. He looks at you, his eyes dark with an emotion so powerful it makes your stomach flutter.

“You are the most important thing in my life,” he says, the words a quiet truth in the dim light of your bedroom. “You are my first priority. Always.”

Your heart melts. “Leo …”

His words are a vow, spoken into the fragile space between you, sealing the crack that had nearly split your world in two. His hands slide from your body to brace on either side of your head, caging you in. “I was so stupid,” he breathes. “To risk this. To risk you.”

He moves between your legs, nudging them apart with his knee. The feel of his skin against yours is electric, a fire starter against the kindling of your frayed nerves. “Look at me,” he says, and you obey, your tear-filled eyes locking with his. “You are my world. You feel me? This is where I belong. Right here.”

You arch your hips, causing a tremor to run through him. “Show me,” you whisper. “Show me I’m your priority.”

And then he does.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

A moment of peace

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: Matt has finally found someone who makes bad days easier.

warnings: None? I don't even think there's cursing tbh...this is tooth-rotting fluff with a hint of mopey Matt.

a/n: This is technically set in the "In All The World" verse, but you don't have to read that to read this. I hope you all enjoy! I wanted to write something that was void of angst because there's enough of that going on at the moment. Please let me know what you think! (And feel free to submit a request!!!)

w/c: 1.9k

In the handful of years Matt had been…operating outside the law, he’d encountered more than his fair share of injuries. Bruises, scrapes, split lips and brows, concussions, broken bones, and a pierced organ or two–he’d taken it all in stride and kept on swinging. Any night when blood remained inside his veins, and the wounds he incurred were superficial, was a massive success. Tonight he’d been lucky enough to remain relatively unharmed, yet his movements were sluggish and limp as he wobbled his way back to you. 

Each step sapped more of his energy, his brain solely focused on maneuvering his leaden limbs as he clambered up your fire escape. Oxygen slipped in and out of his lungs rapidly, the harsh pants bringing his aching chest no relief. Clammy hands clinging to the rusted guard rail, he hauled himself up another flight of rickety steps, nearly cracking his head open when the toe of his shoe caught the jagged edge of a stair. 

“Fuck..” He hissed, wincing at the clatter around him as he slapped his hands down on the fire escape, barely managing to steady himself. Frustration clawed at the walls of his throat, threatening to choke him. C’mon Murdock, this is pathetic.

Releasing a stifled growl, he dragged himself forward, ambling onto your balcony with the grace of a three legged dog. Sprawled out on the narrow slab of concrete, his eyes fluttered shut, his senses locking onto the noise within your apartment. Exhaustion fanned the metaphorical flames of his radar sense, sending his focus in countless directions as he tried to find you. 

Your heartbeat trickled through the walls, blanketing his chest with a familiar warmth. Louder still, from somewhere in your living room, a muffled speaker spit out a tune he didn’t recognize, though you clearly did; you were humming along to the music, your sweet enjoyment punctuated by the scratching of pen on paper. 

A pang of guilt welled in his stomach at the realization that it was a weekday. Of course you’d be swamped with grading and lesson planning, the semester was in full swing. And he’d almost interrupted your productivity in a moment of weakness. 

Forcing his plodding body into a seated position, he clamped his jaw shut around a sigh. Another minute beyond your walls wouldn’t cause any harm, would it? A moment to rest before venturing home? And if he happened to overhear you skillfully humming a tune, well, God would have to forgive him for indulging in an incidental pleasure. 

As he settled against the building’s crumbling brick exterior, you shifted, whisking around your living room in a haphazard waltz. Matt’s lips quirked up subconsciously, affection flickering between his ribs. You always had that effect on him, heating his cheeks and stealing words from his tongue with your mere existence. Between your endless compassion and your effortless optimism, the Devil had willingly wrapped around your finger, eager to heed your every command. 

Completely entranced by your quiet song, he stupidly allowed his guard to fall, his consciousness ebbing as you lulled him to sleep. Almost. 

“Cheese and crackers!” Your squeak of surprise startled him in turn, his weight lurching sideways as he hurried to regain his bearings. While he‘d unintentionally been drifting off, you’d meandered to the window at his back, your pristine hands throwing it open after a brief spike in your heart rate. “What are you doing out here, love? You nearly gave me a heart attack.” 

Matt scrambled to stand, apologizing profusely as you slid through the frame to meet him. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart, I wasn’t thinking. I–”

“Are you hurt? What’s wrong?” Your hands hovered over his biceps, as if you expected him to topple forward. Hair swishing around your face, you frantically scanned him for injuries, absentmindedly grasping his hand when he reached for you. 

“Not hurt, promise.” He huffed out, mindlessly leaning into you as you gathered him in your arms. “I should’ve called. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Intrude on what, darling? The dinner party I’m throwing for my stack of 7th grade music theory quizzes?” You joked brightly, cupping his jaw with one hand as he bowed his head, ashamed. “I haven’t seen you all week, love. I was about to unlock the window for you when a mysterious masked figure jumped out at me.” 

“Sweetheart we talked about this,” Matt groaned, sidestepping your attempt to make him smile. “You can’t leave your window open all night, it’s not safe.” 

He could practically hear your eyes roll as you deflected his half-hearted chastising. “My point is: you’re not intruding. You never could, love. You’re always welcome to visit.” 

The pad of your thumb rippled over his facial hair as you gently stroked his cheek. “What’s going on, Matt? Did something happen?”

Shaking his head, Matt spit out an answer without a second thought, trying to stave off the inevitable confession. “I’m fi–”

“Horseshit.” You shot back, your callousness taking him by surprise. “What’s wrong?”

Your earnesty was tangible, prodding him relentlessly as he searched for another excuse. At a loss, he exhaled shakily. “I..I don’t know.”

Abruptly dropping your hand from his face, Matt braced himself for a complete loss of contact as your certain disappointment caused a rift between you. Instead, your arm snaked around his waist as you pressed a kiss to his cheek. 

“Why don’t you come in and we can talk about it.” Your suggestion lingered in the air for a moment before Matt dropped against you with a weary nod.

Ushering him through the open window, you encouraged him to perch on the corner of your mattress while you shut and locked the makeshift entrance behind you. Dramatically brushing your hands together, you blew out a breath. 

“Secure enough for you counsellor?” You asked in jest, heart skipping when he scoffed in response. 

“I suppose.” He tried for a scowl, his forced moodiness immediately thwarted when your skilled fingers lifted his helmet from its resting place so you could scratch at his scalp. Groaning under his breath, Matt arched into your touch.

“Long night?” It was less of a question and more of an observation, but he tried to soothe your worry nonetheless.

“Not too bad, why?” Your nails raked through his hair, tracing the barest touch over his forehead.

“You seem tired, is all,” The steady pound of your heart jumped in his ears as one of your hands crept away from his crown, a knuckle brushing softly over the dark circles bordering his eyes.

He forced a weak chuckle, instinctively wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “That obvious?”

“How long’s it been since you slept?” Ignoring his joke, the question wasn’t more than a murmur. An invisible string wrapped around his stomach, drawing taught as he answered honestly.

“I slept last night–”

“For more than three hours.” You amended quickly, the stern tone you used poorly concealing your building concern. When Matt failed to respond, you tutted in disapproval. “Oh Matty..”

“I’m sorry, angel,” He murmured, chin dipping towards his lap as you stood up. 

Two of your fingers tapped the underside of his jaw, tenderly guiding his attention away from the floor. “No need to apologize, handsome. It’s not your fault.”

“Not sure anyone else could really be to blame,” A wave of discomfort rolled in his belly as you withdrew from his loose grasp, padding towards the cupboard-sized bathroom in the corner. He held his breath while he waited for you to agree, to scold him, to scream at him for being reckless and self-sacrificial and for burdening you in the process.

But the expected fight never came. 

Instead, you returned dutifully to his side, armed with a soaped up washcloth and your perpetually thoughtful demeanor.

“Sometimes we don’t need to blame anyone. Sometimes things just happen.” Carefully dabbing at his forehead with the damp cloth, you swiped away a smear of dried blood surrounding the cut above his left eye. “Let me bandage this and we can get in bed.”

Momentarily stunned by your forgiveness, Matt blinked at you. “That’s it?”

Tongue sliding over your teeth as you stifled a giggle, the sound wavered as you shrugged nonchalantly. “I mean, I can call Claire if you want, but I’m pretty sure I can handle sticking a bandaid on your face.”

“No, that’s not,” A rumbling noise of frustration escaped him as he clenched his fists, brain swinging wildly as he tried to find the words to explain himself. 

“I know, handsome.” Urging him further onto the mattress, you settled into his lap carefully–giving him the opportunity to reject the motion if needed, and beaming at him when he greedily yanked you down. “I’m not angry with you, Matt. You can ask me as many times as you need to, but the answer won’t change.”

His breath stuttered over your earnesty, coasting over your satiny skin as you leaned in to brush your noses together. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet, love. I haven’t told you the bad news.” You snorted, fingers crinkling the wrapper of a small bandage as you slipped it from your pocket. “The only band-aids I could find are for children. Apparently, I forgot to restock my grown-up first aid supplies.”  

Barking out a laugh, Matt slid a hand over the base of your skull, drawing you into a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You giggled, gently poking a finger into his side. “Now hold still.”

The subtle vibration emanating from your pocket froze you in place, the pen in your hand dangling limply as you fished out the device. Tossing the utensil aside, it skittered to a stop on the pile of assignments on your desk. Good enough. With a swipe of your thumb, you greeted the caller. 

“Hi, love! Everything alright?” 

“I have a bone to pick with you, sweetheart.” Matt’s annoyed grumble brought a smile to your face, his supposed anger lacking any real heat.

“Oh boy, what did I do now?” You asked, faking exasperation to humor him.

“You could’ve warned me about the cartoon ponies on my face! Foggy has been calling me ‘Rainbow Dash’ all damn day,” Clapping a hand over your mouth, you smothered a laugh. You hadn’t yet sent Foggy the photo of Matt’s sleeping face mashed into your pillow with pastel horses galloping over his eyebrow, but this was a lovely reminder.

Unamused, Matt continued on petulantly.  “It’s not funny. I should sue for emotional distress.” You could imagine the impressive pout gracing his face about now.

“I’ll be sure to pick up some more manly designs next time.” You promised, snickering when he groaned at you through the speaker. “Let me make it up to you, Matty. Dinner at my place this weekend?”  

“I don’t know, my ego is pretty bruised, sweetheart. Not sure if I can forgive you for this.” He muttered disdainfully, the hint of a smile slinking through his words. 

“Good thing you’re not the grudge holding type, my dear.” You assured him, absentmindedly glancing at your calendar. “How’s Sunday? I promise I’ll make it up to you.” 

“You’d better.” Matt scoffed, his pretend aggravation dissolving entirely when you laughed. “I’ll see you then. Do I need to bring anything?”

“I don’t think so!” You chirped, already brainstorming meal ideas. “I’ll let you know if anything comes to mind.”

“Sounds good, angel. I’ll see you–” A muffled voice cut Matt’s goodbye short, his attention only drifting for a minute. “You sent them WHAT–”

“Love you too! Gotta go, bye!” You rushed out, erupting into giggles as you returned to the stack of work before you.

General Matt Murdock taglist: @marytheweefrenchie @cheshirecat484 @siampie @xxdrixx @gracethyomen @ignore-mp3 @silas-aeiou @screechingphantommaker @spiderstyles04 @paradox-brody-chase @msjb2002 @blue-devil-of-the-lord @pigeonmama @daisy-arien0 @yarrystyleeza @silas-aeiou @harleycao @for-hearthand-home

[castielscaplan]

Black Forests (Deanmon)

Summary: Dean was chasing you, and you had nowhere else to go.

Warnings: knives, threats, deanmon, angst, no fluff because i feel like i've been smothering y'all on ao3 lately.

WC: 1.3K

Read on AO3!

--

The forest was alive with whispers—leaves rustling, twigs snapping, and something else… something darker. The moon hung high, its pale glow piercing through the thick canopy, but it did little to break the suffocating darkness. You ran, heart pounding against your ribs, lungs burning with every breath.

“You can’t hide from me, sweetheart.”

His voice echoed through the trees—smooth, low, and laced with something twisted. It was Dean, but not the Dean you knew. His emerald eyes now burned black, soulless pits that promised nothing but torment.

You tripped, hitting the forest floor hard, damp earth clinging to your skin. You scrambled to your feet, but a shadow moved faster. In an instant, he was there, stepping out from behind the trees like he'd always been watching. His face—so familiar, so wrong—twisted into a smirk.

“You’re making this too easy. for me, you know.”

You backed away, breath hitching, feeling the cold bark of a tree against your spine. Dean tilted his head, black eyes gleaming, as if savoring your fear.

“Remember when you used to trust me?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery. “When you thought I’d protect you?” He chuckled, low and menacing. “Now look at you. Terrified. Alone.”

You bolted again, branches clawing at your arms, but every direction felt the same—endless and hopeless. You could feel him closing in, hear his boots crunching leaves just behind you.

Then, silence.

You stopped, chest heaving, ears straining. Nothing.

“Boo.”

His voice came from right behind your ear. Ice shot through your veins as his hand wrapped around your wrist, nails digging into your skin with inhuman strength. You screamed, trying to pull away, but he yanked you close, his face inches from yours.

His grin widened, revealing sharp, unnatural teeth. “Run all you want. I love the chase; I thrive from it.”

You thrashed in his grip, panic flooding your veins, but Dean’s strength was overwhelming. His fingers curled tighter around your wrist, cold and unrelenting, like iron shackles. You could feel the sharp tips of his claws pressing into your skin, threatening to break the surface.

“Don’t stop now,” he purred, his black eyes flickering with twisted amusement. “We were just getting to the fun part.”

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, you kicked out, your boot connecting with his shin. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to throw him off balance for a split second. You ripped your arm free and stumbled backward, barely catching yourself before falling again. Blood trickled down your wrist where his claws had pierced the skin.

Dean’s grin didn’t falter. If anything, it grew wider, darker. “Ohhh, I like it when they fight back... Makes it more entertaining.”

You ran again, branches slapping against your face, vision blurred with tears and sweat. Your mind raced—there had to be something, anything, that could help. The forest seemed endless, a twisting nightmare with no way out. Every shadow felt like him, every whisper carried his voice.

Then you saw it—a small clearing ahead, the faint glint of metal half-buried in the dirt. You darted toward it, heart pounding with fragile hope. Dropping to your knees, you clawed at the soil, revealing a rusted iron blade, its edge chipped and worn but still sharp.

“Really? A knife?” His voice came again, closer this time. “You think that’s gonna save you?”

You spun around, clutching the blade in trembling hands. He stood just at the edge of the clearing, his form shrouded in shadows, but his eyes—those pitch-black pits—shone like voids.

“Stay back!” you shouted, brandishing the knife.

Dean stepped forward, completely unfazed. The moonlight caught the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the twisted version of the man you once trusted. “C’mon, sweetheart. You know better. That little thing won’t stop me.”

But there was something—iron. It could weaken demons, couldn’t it? You hoped so.

He lunged, faster than you could react, but you swung the blade wildly. It sliced across his cheek, and for the first time, he hissed in pain, black blood oozing from the wound. His smirk faltered, rage flickering beneath the surface.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” His voice was lower now, darker, vibrating with barely contained fury.

But you had your proof—he could be hurt. Maybe you had a chance after all.

“Come on then,” you dared, tightening your grip on the knife despite your shaking hands. “Let’s see how much you like the chase now.”

Dean’s grin returned, but this time it was wilder, feral.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he growled, stepping closer, “you’re gonna regret that.”

You held the iron blade out in front of you, hands trembling but determined. The sight of his black blood dripping from the wound you’d managed to carve into his cheek gave you the smallest spark of hope. He could be hurt. Maybe even stopped.

Dean’s tongue flicked over the gash, tasting his own blood, and then he laughed—low and dark, like thunder rolling over the horizon. “You’re full of surprises. I’m almost impressed.” He stepped into the clearing, boots crunching over dead leaves. His presence sucked the warmth from the air, turning your breath into visible puffs.

You took a shaky step back, the blade still between you. “You won’t win this.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” He tilted his head, eyes glinting under the moonlight. “I already have.”

And then he charged.

You dodged left at the last second, adrenaline surging through your veins. His clawed hand swiped the air where your neck had been, grazing the edge of your jacket instead. Without thinking, you slashed backward with the iron blade, feeling it connect with his side. Another snarl tore from his throat as black blood spilled, but it didn’t slow him.

You needed more than this.

Heart racing, you darted deeper into the forest, weaving through trees, your boots slipping over damp leaves. You could hear him behind you—silent at first, then deliberate, heavy footsteps, like he was enjoying the chase again.

“You really think you’re going to make it out?” His voice echoed through the trees, closer than before. “I could find you in the dark. Fuck, I am the dark.”

You stumbled into another clearing, this one wider and more open—no place to hide. But in the center stood something—a broken-down hunting cabin, half-collapsed, its windows shattered and door hanging off its hinges.

Shelter. Maybe even a chance to trap him.

You sprinted toward it, slamming the broken door shut behind you and wedging a plank through the handles. It wouldn’t hold him for long, but you needed seconds, even milliseconds, to think.

The inside was worse than you imagined—dusty, rotted, but still filled with remnants of past hunters. Old jars of salt lined a shelf, rusty iron nails scattered across a table, and—there. An ancient sigil scrawled into the floorboards, half-faded but still visible.

You dropped to your knees, scraping through your mind for the right words. You’d seen Sam do this a hundred times—trapping circles, demon sigils. Could you piece it together in time?

The cabin shook violently as Dean slammed into the door, his claws raking down the wood, splintering it. “You can’t hide forever!” he roared.

“Just a little longer,” you whispered to yourself, frantically tracing the sigil into the floor with iron nails, adding a circle of salt around it.

The door cracked open, his black eyes appearing through the gap.

You finished the last symbol and stood, the iron blade still in one hand. “Come on then,” you dared, backing into the center of the circle. “If you’re so powerful.”

The door burst open, Dean storming inside, dark and furious. His eyes locked onto you—and then onto the circle.

He froze mid-step, realizing too late.

You thrust the blade down, completing the sigil. The circle flared to life, a blinding light shooting upward, locking him in place.

Dean howled, slamming against the invisible barrier, his black eyes filled with fury. “You think this��ll hold me? I’ll get out. I’ll find you.” His voice dropped, colder than ever. “And when I do, sweetheart, there won’t be anywhere to run.”

You backed away, chest heaving. The sigil would hold—for now.

But you knew he was right. This wasn’t over. Not even close.

You turned and ran, disappearing into the darkness once more.

--

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