celestialempirehead

[celestialempirehead]

just wanted to share with you my new, quick art. (yes, yes, I'm not only writing :))

WARNINGS: blo0d, fake body

― ᴀs ʟᴏɴɢ ᴀs ᴜ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀɪɴɢ ᴘᴀsᴛ, ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴀʟᴡᴀʏs ʙᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ sʜᴀᴅᴇ ᴏғ ᴅᴀʀᴋ.

[celestialempirehead]

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

、⌯ ʜᴇʟʟᴏ, ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs. ɪ'ᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴇᴀsɪᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴠᴏʀɪᴛᴇ ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍs ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs. ᴀʟsᴏ, ɪ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜs ʀᴇǫᴜᴇsᴛs. ɪ'ʟʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ꜰᴏʀ ꜰᴏʟʟᴏᴡɪɴɢ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ.

ღ 𝐀𝐍𝐈𝐌𝐄:

𝐓𝐨𝐤𝐲𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬:

´｀Tetta Kisaki ― sfw:

`soft hc w him`

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫:

´｀Killua Zoldyck ― sfw:

`his jealousy`

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧:

´｀Megumi Fushiguro ― sfw:

`so afraid to say` :: confession

`pretend to be my bf!`

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

𝐌𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨 𝐚𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐚:

𝐁𝐥𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤:

ღ 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒:

𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐲:

´｀John Price ― sfw:

`your jealousy, your man`

´｀Simon "Ghost" ― sfw:

`it's safe w him` :: u r injured

´｀König ― sfw:

`your pregnancy`

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐞:

´｀Sylus ― sfw:

`aftercare` :: slightly horny!

`new experience` :: u doing him makeup

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐭:

𝐇𝐨𝐧𝐤𝐚𝐢 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥:

´｀Gepard ― sfw:

`replenishment in the family`

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬:

´｀Blade, Avanturine, Anaxa, Jing yuan, Ratio, Locha, Mydei, Sampo, Sunday ― ns/fw:

`What r your kinks?`

© celestialempirehead. please do not plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

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[celestialempirehead]

YOUR JEALOUSY, YOUR MAN

summary: the new girl in the squad is a headache for you, because she keeps climbing up to your beloved man, John Price. It's time to end this and show her her place.

#CHARACTER: John Price

#FANDOM: Call of duty

#WARNINGS: slight violence, jealousy

#TEGS: comfort, jealous reader

© celestialempirehead. please do not plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

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A quiet evening descended on the barracks like heavy velvet. After an exhausting operation, the team returned to base, exhausted, but with a sense of accomplishment. Captain Price, like a stone giant, stood at the hangar, lighting a cigar. His shadow, long and sinister, snaked across the cracked concrete, and the bitter smoke dissolved in bizarre patterns in the cold air. You were sitting on the ammunition crates, sipping your cooling coffee, when her silhouette appeared in your field of vision.

The new girl.

A fragile figure framed by a careless square, and a look that was bold and exploring, as if challenging everything around her. Lera, Valeria... or whatever her name is? The name didn't stick in your mind. And you didn't want to remember. From the very first minutes, she behaved as if she had taken root in this place, as if she knew every dusty corner here. And she was especially attracted to Price.

— "Captain," ― her voice, sickly sweet, like overripe honey, enveloped my ears, ― "could you show me the map of the operation? I'm a little confused.…"

He only nodded briefly, not deigning to look at her, accustomed to such ingratiation. But you saw how her fingers, like predatory snakes, slid along his sleeve, as she demonstratively approached, violating his personal space.

Your cup crashed into the metal surface of the drawer with a deafening clang.

Price jerked his head up, his gaze meeting yours for a moment. A warning spark flashed in the depths of his eyes: "Just don't start." But you've already risen, like a spring squeezed to its limit.

― "Can I help you with the map?" ― There was a steely note of unnatural calm in your voice.

Lera turned around, her gaze, haughty and appraising, slid over you from top to bottom. ― "Oh, thank you, but I've already asked the captain."

— "Yes, but he's busy. But I'm not."

In the silence that followed, one could hear a ringing in the ears. Even Gaz, usually unperturbed, froze, frozen over cleaning his trusty barrel in a dark corner.

Price sighed wearily. — "Ladies…"

But the new girl wasn't going to back down. — "I actually talked to him."

― "Actually, I'm sleeping with him."

Oh, this moment. When the mask of self-confidence cracked, revealing her confused face, and her eyes widened in shock. Price clenched his cigar tighter between his teeth, trying not to laugh.

But Lera quickly pulled herself together. ― "So what? I just wanted to ask a question about work."

"A job?" ― you've taken a threatening step forward. ― "Then why hasn't your hand left his shoulder for five minutes?"

A slight blush suffused her cheeks, but she did not remove her impudent palm. ― "Are you jealous?"

— "No,"— you gave her an icy grin. ― "I'm warning you."

Price finally intervened, roughly pulling away from the intrusive attention. ― "That's enough. Both of you."

But Lera, apparently, decided that this was her finest hour. ― "Captain, she's being rude! I just wanted…"

— "Leave," ― you finished for her, putting all your hate into those words.

She snorted contemptuously. ― "And who's going to make me? You, little soldier?"

The sharp sound of a slap broke the silence.

Your palm slammed into her cheek with such ferocious force that she was almost thrown against the concrete wall. A dead, ringing silence reigned in the barracks. Lera, stunned, clutched her burning face.

— "Soldier," — you hissed through clenched teeth, putting all your contempt into that word.

Price closed his eyes, as if in silent prayer asking higher powers for a drop of patience. — "Damn it…"

Lera jumped up, her eyes flashing, tears and rage splashing in them. ― "You're a psychopath!"

― "And you're a bitch," you retorted, not backing down. — "Remember, it is strictly forbidden to touch someone else's without asking. And if you reach out to him again, the next blow won't be with your palm, but with something stronger and heavier."

Price has finally come between you, like a dividing line. — That's enough of this farce! He turned to Lera, his gaze as cold as Arctic ice. ― "Go to the infirmary. And you," ― he pointed at you, ― "are coming with me, young lady.

He roughly grabbed your hand and dragged you away, leaving the new girl to be torn apart by giggling Gaz and Soup, who seemed to be anticipating the continuation of this performance.

In the cramped back room, smelling of engine oil and gun grease, he slammed the door and glared at you. ― "Are you serious right now?"

— "Well, she started it first!"

― "She was touching my sleeve, not undressing me!"

You crossed your arms over your chest, pouting with resentment. ― "Yeah, and in five minutes I'd be sitting on your lap, humming songs."

Price rolled his eyes, but there was a telltale twitch of a grin at the corner of his mouth. "You're impossible.

— "Oh, I'm sorry, Captain. That's how jealous I am," you purred, pretending to flirt.

He couldn't stand it and burst out laughing, then pulled you towards him, wrapping you in a tight hug. — "Damn it, woman…"

[celestialempirehead]

HE IS JEALOUS

summary: Your laugh is beautiful; but now it hurts Killua's ears, because you are not laughing with him.

#CHARACTER: Killua Zoldyck

#FANDOM: hunter x hunter

#WARNINGS: obsession

#TEGS: comfort, jealousy

© celestialempirehead. please do not plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

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You're laughing with someone else.

This sound — pure, sincere, carefree — should have pleased him. After all, he adores your laughter, loves when your eyes sparkle with fun, and your lips stretch into a wide, infectious smile. But now, every laugh, every joyful sound splash cuts his ears like sharp shards of glass hammering into his heart. He can't understand why this pain is so intense, because there's no bond between you, and he's always avoided talking about feelings. However, burning, suffocating jealousy fills his chest, squeezing his heart with icy fingers.

Killua stands to the side, leaning against the cold wall, his hands sunk deep into his pockets. The fingers involuntarily clench into fists, the nails dig into the palms, leaving semicircular marks. He doesn't even notice the pain; all his attention is focused on you and whoever is next to you. On this man who dared to make you laugh, your warm, sincere laugh.

He watches as you touch his shoulder, as you lean closer, as if sharing a secret with him. How your gaze, usually so bright and warm, gets softer when you look at him. How your smile fills with warmth, sincerity, as if the sun's rays break through the clouds. And at that moment, Killua feels something break inside him.

"Why?" is a venomous, burning question spinning in his head like a jammed record.

"What's wrong with him? Why him?"

Killua knows he has no right to be jealous. But damn, it's so hard.

He wants to come up to you, grab your hand, pull you sharply to the side, and hold you close so that you can feel his heart pounding. He wants to whisper something harsh to you, to make you flinch. He wants you to feel his jealousy, his desire to love you in a way that no one else can.

You suddenly feel his gaze, sharp as a dagger blade, sliding over you. Then he transfers it to the one who dared to make you laugh. There's something cold and dangerous in his eyes, something you've never seen before. But when you turn around, his face is already lit up with a fake smile, as if nothing had happened.

― "Is something wrong?" You ask, coming closer, as if you don't notice his tension.

― "It's okay," he says, his voice a little muffled than usual, but there's still a hint of steel in it.

— "Killua…"

— "I said it's okay," he looks away, but you notice how his jaw tightens, how his fists clench.

And then you realize: he's jealous. This thought flashes through your head as clearly as if someone had whispered in your ear. But you don't know what to do about it. You've never seen him like this, and it scares you.

― "Are you... jealous?" ― you ask, trying to keep your voice calm, but a hurricane is raging inside you.

― "And if it is?" His voice is low, almost like the growl of a wild animal.

You're smiling, but it's not the same smile as always.

— "Maybe then you should just admit that you care about me." ― You say, trying to make your words sound easy, but there's a depth to them that he doesn't want to see.

Killua clenches his teeth, his jaw clenching so hard that it looks like it's about to crack. He hates it when you read him so easily, like he's an open book. He hates it when it happens to him.

― "Shut up, you idiot. Just... don't laugh like that with others," ― he says softly, but there's a steel in his words that cuts you like a knife.

You're smiling, but this time there's a challenge in your smile. You feel a wave of anger and stubbornness rising inside you.

— "And what will you do if I disobey?" ― You ask, looking him straight in the eye.

― "You'll find out if you try," his voice sounds cold, almost indifferent, but there's something in his eyes that makes you shudder.

[celestialempirehead]

NEW... EXPERIENCE

summary: Sylus, at his own risk accepts your offer to do his makeup. But the question is, will he like it?

#CHARACTER: Sylus

#FANDOM: Love and deepspace

#WARNINGS: holysh is that Sylus doing makeup?

#TEGS: comfort, doing makeup

© celestialempirehead. please do not plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

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In a room shrouded in the soft light of a desk lamp, in front of a huge mirror surrounded by a scattering of bottles of tonics, palettes of shadows and brushes of all stripes, you are an artist. Sylus is next to you, and his icy, piercing eyes follow your every move in this sanctuary of beauty with undisguised curiosity.

— "Are you ready to take the risk?" ― You ask, twirling a fluffy blush brush in your fingers.

He tilts his head slightly, and a waterfall of silver hair gently falls on his forehead.

— "Isn't this an unexplored facet of human existence?" ― There's a faint note of anticipation in his normally even voice. ― "If you find it... worthy of attention, I'm at your service."

Your laugh sounds light and casual when you take the sponge, touching its velvety surface of the foundation.

― "Then freeze. And no blinking."

Under your touch, he freezes like a fragile statuette, afraid to break the magic of the moment. His skin is as cold as marble, and immaculately smooth—not a single flaw, not a single pore. It really seems to be made of perfection, created not by nature, but by art. You apply a weightless foundation, as if bringing his face to life with light touches on his cheekbones.

― "Now... a little play of light and shadow," ― you whisper, choosing a thin contouring brush.

Sylus is watching you in the mirror, his gaze darting between your face and its transforming reflection.

— "What is the purpose of these manipulations?" ― he asks, as you begin to deepen the hollows under his cheekbones.

— "To emphasize the advantages. To make them... more tangible."

― "Aren't my virtues enough?" ― There's a hint of irony in his voice.

You bite your lip, stifling a laugh.

— "Let's just say it's just a game of shades. The art of nuances."

He silently accepts your answer, allowing you to continue to create. In your hands is a palette of shadows — cold, shimmering, metallic shades that perfectly match the color of his eyes. You carefully shade the silver-gray over the eyelid, adding a little drama to the crease with a dark charcoal.

― "Do you often... do this?" ― he asks suddenly.

― "Painting someone? No," ― you smile. — "You are my first... volunteer participant in this performance."

The edges of his lips twitched slightly, a hint of a smile.

— "I would venture to say that I am incredibly lucky."

You snort and pick up your eyeliner. The most crucial moment is to draw a perfect arrow on such an unearthly eye. But your hand is firm: a thin, clear line highlights the slit of his eyes, making his gaze even more piercing, even more dangerous.

― "Well, what do you say?" — you pull away, appreciating the fruits of your labor.

Sylus slowly turns his head, studying his reflection carefully. His face remains impassive, like a mask, but there is something new, unexplored, almost... human in his eyes.

— "Interesting," ― he finally says. — "I didn't realize that such minor changes could transform perception so much."

― "So I didn't waste my time!" — you declare triumphantly.

He turns to you, and his cold fingers suddenly touch your hand, burning your skin.

― "Thank you. For this... experience."

You freeze, feeling your heart racing. Makeup has really created a miracle — it looks even more mysterious, even more unrealistically beautiful.

— "Come on," you say with difficulty. — "Maybe next time we'll take a chance with lipstick?"

The man sighed and chuckled a little.

― "If you insist..."

[celestialempirehead]

REPLEREPLENISHMENT IN THE FAMILY

summary: childbirth seems terribly difficult and painful, but there is a Gepard nearby who is ready to comfort you for at least 10 hours in a row until the baby is born.

#CHARACTER: Gepard

#FANDOM: honkai star rail

#WARNINGS: childbirth, mention of blo0d

#TEGS: pregnancy, comfort

© celestialempirehead. please do not plagiarize, translate, use for AI-related purposes or claim as your own.

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The quiet evening at Gepard's house was torn apart by turmoil and anxiety, like a fragile fabric. You lay there clutching his arm so desperately that his knuckles turned white under the pressure of your grip. The pain burned in waves, but in Gepard's eyes there was an ocean of fear, much deeper than your own.

— "Everything will be fine," ― his voice, which usually sounded like steel, now trembled like an autumn leaf. He gently ran his palm over your damp forehead, as if chasing away a shadow. ―"I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

The midwife, the epitome of calmness, led the process, but her professional composure could not calm the storm in the commander's soul. He saw how you clenched your teeth, how your body twisted in an agonizing dance of contractions, and his heart was pounding against your ribs like a bird beating in a cage. He was used to control, to power over the situation, but here he was powerless, like a child before a storm.

— "Breathe," — he pressed his forehead against your palm, his breathing became ragged and uneven. ― "You can handle it. You're strong, I know."

You couldn't answer — a new wave of pain overwhelmed you, shackled you in its icy embrace. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching your teeth until your jaws hurt. And then…

A thin, piercing scream, like a crystal bell, broke the silence. The cry of a new life.

Gepard froze as if thunderstruck. His eyes, always sharp and attentive, widened in amazement when the midwife picked up a tiny creature covered with the first blood and mucus.

— "Congratulations, you have a daughter."

You slumped back against the pillow, exhausted, but you didn't take your eyes off him. Gepard stood as if petrified, looking at the newborn, who was carefully wrapped in a soft blanket and placed on your chest.

― "She's..." ― his voice broke like a thin thread. He slowly knelt down next to the bed, mesmerized, unable to take his eyes off the tiny face.

— "Ours," — you smiled faintly, running your finger over your daughter's wrinkled cheeks.

He held out his hand, but froze in the middle, as if he was afraid to desecrate this miracle with a touch. His fingers, accustomed to gripping the hilt of a weapon, trembled before this fragility.

― "May I?" ― he whispered, and tears glistened in the depths of his eyes.

You nodded, and he gently, with infinite tenderness, touched the baby's head with his palm.

— "Hi, baby," his voice trembled, as if touching something sacred. ― "I'm your dad."

His daughter grimaced, then stretched weakly, and her tiny fingers accidentally grabbed his thumb. Gepard froze, as if afraid to frighten off this fleeting touch.

― "She's so tiny," — he whispered, and his voice was a mixture of fear, delight, and boundless tenderness.

You laughed through your exhaustion.:

― "Well, you're definitely not going anywhere now."

He leaned over, pressing his forehead against yours, and closed his eyes.

― "I wasn't going to, sweetheart."

[celestialempirehead]

IT'S SAFE W HIM

Tw: comfort, injury

The forest was quiet, too quiet. Only the crunching of branches underfoot and the girl's ragged breathing broke the eerie silence. Simon led the way, his powerful frame clearing a path through the dense undergrowth, but every few steps he turned around to check if she had fallen behind.

His voice sounded low and hoarse, as if through his teeth. "Hold on."

The girl nodded, gritting her teeth. The hand pressed to his side could no longer hold back the blood — dark drops fell on the moss, leaving an intermittent trail behind them. The wound ached with every step, but fear and adrenaline wouldn't let her stop. She knew that if she fell now, she wouldn't get up.

Simon slowed his pace, allowing her to catch up with him. His dark eyes swept over her face, assessing her condition.

"You're losing too much blood."

— "I... can handle it," she gasped, but her leg suddenly buckled.

He caught her before she hit the ground, wrapping one arm around her waist. His palm was as hard as steel, but his movement was careful.

— "No, you can't," he muttered.

Without another word, Simon bent down and scooped her up in his arms, hugging her to his chest. The girl gasped in surprise, but she had no strength to protest — only a vague feeling of warmth emanating from his body, and the persistent smell of smoke and leather.

"You could have done it right away," she whispered, closing her eyes.

— "Don't whine," he snorted, but there was no anger in his voice.

He carried her confidently, avoiding bumps on the way. The forest gradually thinned, and soon an old hunting lodge appeared between the trees — their goal.

Simon pushed the door with his shoulder, and it creaked open. It was dusty and dark inside, but at least it was dry. He gently lowered the girl onto a cot against the wall, then quickly closed the door and slid the latch.

"Now we'll bandage you up," he said, dropping his backpack to the floor and taking out a first—aid kit.

The girl tried to sit up, but the sharp pain made her shrink.

Simon sat down next to her, his fingers already unbuttoning her bloodstained jacket. — This is not the time for heroism.

She wanted to say something, but his touch distracted her — his hands, accustomed to weapons, were now moving with frightening precision. He cleaned the wound, applied a bandage, and only when the job was done did their eyes meet.

— "Thank you," — she whispered.

Simon held his gaze for a second longer, then nodded and pulled away.

— "Get some rest. I'll check the perimeter."

He stood up, his silhouette obscuring the dim light from the window for a moment before he walked out, leaving the door ajar.

She closed her eyes, listening to his footsteps outside. Despite the pain, the fear, the uncertainty of tomorrow—here, in this abandoned house, with him by her side, she felt... safe.

And that was the strangest thing.

[celestialempirehead]

WHAT ARE YOUR KINKS?

Tw: nsfw, kinks, slightly bdsm

Size kink

A muscular man, his prominent abs glistening with sweat, loomed over a slender girl who was lying carelessly on the bed. His massive, throbbing erection protruded obscenely from his groin, his elastic shaft pulsed with every heartbeat. Her eyes widened when she saw the size of his manhood, and her gaze reflected a mixture of awe and anticipation.

"Oh my God," the girl gasped, "you're so big. I've never seen such a huge one before." Her slender hand hesitantly reached out to him, and her fingers touched scalding hot flesh. She gasped at the touch, feeling the weight of his cock and the thick veins running along its entire length.

The man grinned at her reaction, his ego swollen by her awe and apprehension. ―Don't worry, baby,― he purred, his deep voice dripping with lust. I'll take care of it. He grabbed her wrist, guiding her hand so that it wrapped around his massive cock, helping her feel how huge he was.

She could barely wrap her fingers around his width, the head of his penis peeking out from under her phalanges. When she stroked him, admiring the heaviness and heat of his manhood, he groaned, his hips jerked to meet her touch. The pre-cum dripped from the tip, spreading across her palm and fingers, making it easier to glide as she moved it with impressive length.

With his free hand, he spread her thighs, exposing her oozing pussy to his hungry gaze. He rubbed the bulging head of his cock against her smooth folds, getting covered in her juices. She moaned and writhed beneath him, desperate to feel him inside her. He moved slowly forward, the thick tip pushing her apart, sinking into her tight warmth inch by inch, causing excruciating pain.

Her back arched on the bed, a silent scream escaped from her throat as he pressed her against his massive cock. It was almost too much, the searing touch of his elastic shaft pushing her inner walls apart, filling her so completely that she thought she might break.

Swaying her hips in a steady rhythm, penetrating her smooth bosom with deep, powerful thrusts, she quickly adapted to his huge size. Her velvety walls tightened and fluttered around him, getting denser and wetter with each passing second as he continued to enter her.

"Damn, you're so damn tight," he grumbled, sweat trickling down his forehead from exertion. "I feel like I'm splitting you in half with my huge cock."

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Spanking

The dominant male loomed over the submissive female, his chiseled jaw stretched into a grin as he admired her forms spread out on his lap. Her pert round ass was exposed, her smooth buttocks swaying slightly from the force of his previous slaps. He could see the red handprints already appearing on her skin, evidence of his thorough warm-up.

"You're such a naughty girl, aren't you?" He murmured, and his deep voice sent shivers down her spine. "You need this kind of punishment so badly."

She moaned in response, and a mixture of fear and anticipation tightened in her stomach. The rough fabric of his jeans rubbed against her sensitive, tortured flesh, only adding to the intoxicating cocktail of sensations that overwhelmed her senses.

Without warning, he raised his hand and brought it down hard, the sharp crack of skin on skin echoing through the room. She screamed, arching her back as a searing pain shot through her buttock. Before she could catch her breath, he struck from the other side, doing the same to her.

He set a brutal pace, his big hand delivering blow after blow to her tender ass. Each blow sent waves of searing agony through her, but at the same time, there was a strange hidden pleasure. Her pussy squeezed and oozed with each stroke, her arousal growing as the pain intensified.

"You fucking love it, don't you, huh?" he taunted, punctuating his words with a particularly vicious slap. "Do you enjoy being punished like a slutty slut?"

She could only moan in response, tears of pain and desire stinging her eyes as she frantically nodded. "Yes, sir," she breathed, "I like that." I love being your naughty little slut.

＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿＿

Deepthroating

He grabbed the girl by the hair, holding her head in place, and pushed his thick cock through her painfully stretched lips. Her eyes filled with tears and she gasped at his impressive size as he pushed deeper, his heavy balls hitting her chin.

"Take it all, darling," he growled, his voice hoarse with lust. "I know you can handle every fucking inch of my huge cock."

She could only whimper and try to relax her throat, fighting the gag reflex as he completely plunged into her hot, wet mouth. The tip of his cock touched the back of her throat, causing her stomach to contract from the deep penetration.

He held her like that, enjoying the feel of her convulsing around his sensitive flesh before he began to move. Slowly at first, he fucked her face, his heavy cock going in and out of her stretched lips. Saliva was running down her chin, and tears were streaming down her face as he used her mouth.

Soon, he was inexorably thrusting into her, his hips hitting her face with each sharp thrust. Her nose pressed against his thigh as he thrust into her over and over, his balls slapping wetly against her saliva-slick chin.

―Damn, it feels so good to have my cock in your throat,— he breathed hoarsely, sweat trickling down his forehead from exertion. "I'm going to fuck your beautiful face until I turn your glands white with my hot cum."

She could only gag and gag around his cock, and drool flowed from the corners of her mouth as he ruthlessly fucked her in the face. Her eyes rolled back in her head, she was lost in a haze of pain and pleasure when he used her so roughly.

With an animal moan, he entered her up to her balls and erupted, filling her throat with his thick, sharp seed. She had no choice but to greedily swallow it all, coughing and spitting, trying to breathe only through her nose.

[celestialempirehead]

Afraid to write about a certain topic because you fear judgment? Take your fingers, open the notes app on your phone, and start writing — pour your soul into it, then boldly post it. Why should you care if someone doesn’t like the topics you write about? You’re writing, first and foremost, for yourself, and only then for your readers. You’re exploring your potential, growing — isn’t that what really matters?

[celestialempirehead]

SO AFRAID TO SAY...

Tw: confession, comfort

And you'd never guess this brunet could be shy.

Outwardly — cold, serious, almost unapproachable. But the moment his gaze lands on you walking beside him, that same serene expression makes your heart skip a beat before betraying you with a frantic rhythm.

The training session had been exhausting. You wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and vanish for two days. But beside each other, everything somehow feels lighter. Fatigue and time melt away.

You’ve noticed his glances. For months now—the uneven breathing beside you, the tense fingers, the hesitations in his voice. Your intuition about people rarely fails. He clearly wants to say something but can’t bring himself to. As if rehearsing a confession in his head, as if searching for an excuse to duck into a café and casually ask you to stay—just a little longer, just a little closer.

Hope lives in his palms—warm, slightly sweaty, gripping just a little too tight. It doesn’t fade or dissolve. Instead, it settles deep in your chest, making you feel truly alive.

"I love you, but I’m so afraid to say it."

The involuntary whisper slips past his lips, so quiet the words are nearly lost. You even have to tug lightly at his sleeve to pull his attention back.

"What’s on your mind? I didn’t quite catch that," you reply, matching his pace. The college is still a couple of kilometers away, but with him… time moves too quickly. And there it is again—the faint blush on his cheeks, his darting eyes fixing straight ahead.

A soft laugh escapes you before you can stop it.

"Why are you laughing? I wasn’t even saying anything, idiot…" Megumi mutters skeptically, though he’s been walking slower this whole time just to keep pace with you. Just so you wouldn’t fall behind. Just so you’d stay close.

Even if he’s afraid to say it aloud, his actions scream it.

He’s terrible at hiding his feelings. Even when he tries.

And those lips—soft, almost sweet. He’d sin for them. For the one who holds his heart captive.

Then, with sudden resolve, he stops. The abrupt halt nearly makes you stumble, but his hands grip yours tightly—so tight his nails leave half-moon indents in your skin. Fear flickers in his eyes.

"Just… come here and let me kiss you."

The last words leave his lips as he leans in. He pauses for a breath, just a millimeter away, as if asking permission. Your breaths mingle. His dark hair falls like a curtain over his eyes.

And then — finally — his lips meet yours. A slow, aching kiss that lasts only seconds but steals the breath from your lungs. A spontaneous act that erases every unspoken question between you.

Something he should’ve done a long time ago.

[celestialempirehead]

ʀᴜʟᴇs:

ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ғᴏʀ ɪɴᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴜᴀʟs 18 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ—ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴅɪsᴛᴜʀʙ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴀʀɴᴇᴅ.

ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɴᴇʟ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ. sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴏsᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ—ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ.

sᴛᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛᴇᴅ. ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴏʀ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ, ᴀsᴋ ᴍᴇ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟʟʏ —ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴅᴇᴄɪsɪᴏɴs ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ.

ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ ɪs ᴀ sᴘᴀᴄᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴀᴛᴇ sᴘᴇᴇᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴏxɪᴄɪᴛʏ ᴡɪʟʟ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴇ ᴛᴏʟᴇʀᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ʙᴇ ᴋɪɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

ᴀɪ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏʜɪʙɪᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴍʏ ᴡʀɪᴛᴛᴇɴ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴜsᴇᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ғᴏʀᴍ ᴏғ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴛʀᴀɪɴɪɴɢ, ᴅᴀᴛᴀsᴇᴛ ᴄᴏʟʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴏʀ ᴍᴀᴄʜɪɴᴇ ʟᴇᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ᴘᴜʀᴘᴏsᴇs. ᴛʜɪs ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ғᴏʀʙɪᴅᴅᴇɴ.

[celestialempirehead]

ɢᴏᴏᴅ ᴅᴀʏ, ᴅᴇᴀʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀs.

I’d like to take a moment to explain what this blog is about and what you can expect from it.

ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ ɪs sᴛʀɪᴄᴛʟʏ ғᴏʀ ɪɴᴅɪᴠɪᴅᴜᴀʟs 18 ʏᴇᴀʀs ᴀɴᴅ ᴏʟᴅᴇʀ.

ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢᴇʀ — ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴇʀsᴏɴᴀʟ ᴄʜᴏɪᴄᴇ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʙʟᴀᴍᴇ ᴍᴇ ʟᴀᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴍᴀᴛᴇʀɪᴀʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ᴅɪsᴛᴜʀʙ ʏᴏᴜ. ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴡᴀʀɴᴇᴅ.

ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀɴ ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ-ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴡʀɪᴛᴇʀ.

ɪ'ᴍ ғʀᴏᴍ ᴀ ᴅɪғғᴇʀᴇɴᴛ ɴᴀᴛɪᴏɴᴀʟɪᴛʏ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ɪs ɴᴏᴛ ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ.

ɪɴ ᴛʜɪs ʙʟᴏɢ, ɪ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ғʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴛᴇʟᴇɢʀᴀᴍ ᴄʜᴀɴɴᴇʟ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ ғᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ.

ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪɴᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴇʟᴇɢʀᴀᴍ ɪs ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇsᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ, ʙᴜᴛ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛʜᴏsᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀsᴛᴀɴᴅ ᴍʏ ɴᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ—ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏ ᴇɴɢʟɪsʜ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴄʜᴀɴɴᴇʟ.

ᴍʏ ʙʟᴏɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄʜᴀɴɴᴇʟ ᴀʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴅɪᴄᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ғʀᴇᴇ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴠᴇ ᴇxᴘʀᴇssɪᴏɴ ᴡɪᴛʜɪɴ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ.

sᴏᴍᴇᴛɪᴍᴇs, ɪ ᴡɪʟʟ ᴘᴏsᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʟ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏᴏɴᴇ—ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ’s ᴏᴋᴀʏ. ɪ ᴀᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ғᴏʀᴄɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴀᴋᴇs ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛᴀʙʟᴇ.

Rules: click

Telegram channel: @CelestialEmpirehead

[celestialempirehead]

PRETEND TO BE MY BF!

Tw: comfort, friends to lovers

— What to do?

Megumi, with his usual emotionless expression, looked at you as if seeing you for the first time.

— Come on, Megs! You heard me perfectly well!

— Yeah, I just thought that if I asked again, you might change your mind.

He stopped by a small milkshake cart and handed the elderly vendor a few slightly crumpled bills.

— One strawberry, one chocolate.

— Megumi, listen, this is really important.

Standing a few steps away from him, you still unintentionally raised your voice. No surprise there — your excessive emotionality was the most noticeable difference between you and the young sorcerer.

— You just don’t get it, they’re like vultures. They’ll tear me apart if I show up alone to this party.

— Thanks. Fushiguro took two cool cups and handed one to his friend, who was so insistently demanding such absurd things from him. — These "vultures" are your classmates. You’ve been studying with them for three years and still haven’t found common ground?

The biting remark made your face flush. Frowning, you took a sip of the cool drink and slowed your pace, letting the breeze cool your burning cheeks. You knew he didn’t say it out of malice—he probably didn’t even mean to offend you. He was just like that: honest, straightforward, and not always mindful of others' feelings. But that didn’t mean Megs didn’t care. Your social isolation worried him even more than it did you — he just expressed it in his own way.

— Fine. ― Megumi sighed, and a warm male hand landed on the top of your head, ruffling your hair slightly. — What do you mean by "pretend to be my boyfriend"?

— Nothing crazy! Just come with me to this party, and if anyone asks, tell them you’re my boyfriend. That’s it!

In your excitement, you nearly tripped over a protruding sidewalk tile. One more step, and your nose would’ve met a puddle on the ground, but Fushiguro caught you by the collar of your jacket just in time.

— Watch your step, klutz, he muttered, letting you go and stuffing his hands back into his pockets. — So when were you planning to go?

— Tonight, at nine.

In a burst of uncontrollable excitement, you shoved your cup into his hands and rummaged through your bag.

— Hold on, I wrote the address down somewhere.

— Don’t bother. I’ll just pick you up.

— Huh? Why?

Megumi rolled his eyes and handed you back the cup, which had already started to sweat under the warm spring sun, leaving his palm damp.

— You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend, but you don’t know the first thing about relationships. Great plan, really.

Casually shaking off the moisture, he pulled out a paper napkin and wiped first your cup, then his own.

— Show me one couple that goes to events like this separately.

His words made you think. Scrunching your nose in displeasure, you finally nodded in agreement.

— Okay, you’re right. Come by around eight, then?

The clock’s hand was inevitably nearing the appointed time, and you stood in the middle of your room, which was in complete chaos. Clothes scattered across the floor tangled under your feet, making it impossible to move as quickly as you wanted. Megumi’s two shikigami hounds lay lazily on the bed, yawning while their owner watched his frantic friend dart around.

— I don’t know!

Finally giving up, you plopped onto the floor, resting your chin on your palm and sniffling.

"This is heading toward tears," Fushiguro thought, shoving the first dress he found into your hands.

— Put this on.

Twisting the blue satin dress in your hands, you tugged thoughtfully at the ribbon that was supposed to keep the ridiculous piece of fabric on your body.

— What if it comes undone?

— It won’t. Get dressed, or we’ll be late.

— Fine.

Mumbling something incoherent under your breath, you disappeared into the bathroom to finish getting ready.

The silver-gray taxi stopped in front of a small private house where music was already blaring. Megumi paid the driver and stepped out first to open the door for you.

Of course, he wasn’t exactly a street thug, but calling him a gentleman would’ve been a stretch—so the dissonance in your head was understandable.

— What’s this about?

Such a simple gesture, yet your cheeks were already dusted with a faint blush, while his face remained as impassive as ever.

— Taking care of you. For tonight, you’re my girlfriend.

Fushiguro took your hand and helped you out of the car. The closer you got to the front door, the clearer the voices and thumping bass of some trendy track became, assaulting your eardrums.

The approaching noise made you wince. This was the main — if not the only — reason you hated these kinds of gatherings. The cacophony of sounds always gave you a splitting headache and nausea. Add the bitchy classmates to the mix, and the equation’s solution was Megumi, who held you a little tighter, as if sensing your urge to turn around and bolt.

— Look who’s here.

A tall brunette in a long dress with a plunging neckline greeted you the moment you stepped inside. It was hard to recognize her as a Shinjuku High student — her appearance screamed of someone desperate to seem older and more glamorous.

— Hey, Himari.

You held out a small box tied with a colorful ribbon. On the way to your place, Megumi had stopped by a bakery and picked up some cream desserts because "you can’t show up empty-handed."

Your hesitant greeting went completely ignored. The girl’s attention was fixed on the guy holding your hand, lazily scanning the surroundings. A stupid habit Fushiguro had picked up since dealing with curses.

— So this is the ‘boyfriend’ you were talking about? I’m surprised he’s not just a figment of your imagination, Y/N.

— Megumi Fushiguro. Nice to meet you.

Despite the polite words, his tone made it clear he wasn’t thrilled about this encounter — but he was tolerating it because you asked. And that made you feel a little better. It was nice knowing that in this snake pit, there was still someone who’d stick by you no matter what.

Himari’s gaze flicked from Megumi to the gift in your hands, then to your dress, making you regret your choice. An unpleasant chill ran down your spine, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter, seeking invisible support. Fushiguro quickly assessed the situation and, forcing a smile, brushed a thin strap on your shoulder.

— We’ll go take a look around, if you don’t mind.

The short phrase was directed at Himari, but for some reason, it was your heart that skipped a beat. Whether it was his charming smile or the gentle touch, your legs suddenly felt weak.

The classmate’s attention quickly shifted to one of her "entourage," and to your relief, she left you alone soon enough.

— Unpleasant person, Megumi remarked, running a hand through his hair.

— Nailed it. She’s just vile.

— Well, now I get why you still don’t have friends at this school. If they’re all like her… my condolences.

Fushiguro shrugged and, lifting a hand, tucked a stray strand of hair back into your neat updo.

The sharp, rhythmic music faded into a softer melody, and glancing around, Megumi leaned in close to your ear:

— I suppose we should dance.

He nodded toward the couples forming from the chaotic mass of jerking bodies, swaying like ocean waves. The air suddenly felt heavier.

— If you don’t want to, we don’t have to...—

He didn’t let you finish. Gently pulling you closer, Megumi placed your hands around his neck and slowly led you into the dance.

Your fragile heart skipped another beat, and embarrassment once again painted your face.

Thoughts tangled and raced in your head, driven by some invisible force.

You’d known each other practically since birth and knew more about each other than anyone else… So why? Why did his innocent touches suddenly stir such strange feelings?

— That dress really suits you. Good thing you wore it, Megumi whispered, barely audible.

His warm breath brushed your ear, and without thinking, you leaned forward and buried your face in his chest.

— Thanks. And thanks for agreeing to help me.

Megumi’s slender fingers idly played with strands of your hair as his presence brought a sense of safety and comfort. Like nothing bad could happen as long as he was near.

— Y/N, look at me.

His voice made you lift your head, but instead of meeting his dark blue eyes—his lips gently covered yours.

Awkwardly, like a teenager, Fushiguro cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer. Your breaths mingled, growing uneven as emotions surged unexpectedly. Carefully, as if afraid of being too forward, Megumi deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing your lips.

— Megs…

Your voice was almost unrecognizable — quiet and trembling, as if your vocal cords were about to snap from the strain.

Reluctantly, Fushiguro finally broke the kiss, and you noticed how flushed his cheeks were. He didn’t pull away, resting his forehead against yours so that the tips of your noses barely touched.

— You’re blushing,― you teased, hiding your own embarrassment behind a smirk.

— No, I’m not. Don’t overthink it. It’s just hot in here.

— Uh-huh, that’s why you just kissed me?

— I did it because people were watching. ― Megumi rolled his eyes and ruffled your hair again. — That’s it, keep quiet, or everyone will find out you just kissed your best friend, not your boyfriend.

Not letting you respond, he leaned in again and captured you in another tender kiss.

[celestialempirehead]

AFTERCARE

Tw: comfort, slightly horny

Sylus never missed a chance to kiss you. Especially to kiss such a delicate, fragile neck, completely soaked in your scent and, most importantly, completely belonging to him.

But would he do something against your will? Never.

He was always especially gentle with you in the absolute sense of the word, but that didn't stop him from teasing you with foreplay every time, driving you to the climax.… He didn't leave a single spot on you untouched, ever.

But after that... when you're lying there, barely catching your breath, trying to come to your senses, to return to this world, to return all your thoughts, when your head is filled with pleasure and nothing more.…

"Is everything okay, kitten?" — After all, Sylus is worried about you and your well-being after sex.

When you nod slightly, still recovering, the man gently presses against you, nuzzling your neck, kissing it lightly, leaving a wet trail from the kiss.

"It's okay. — You whisper softly.

It was already a kind of habit, yet no matter how much he loved to possess you, to mimic you, your safety and your comfort were the first things he ever thought about and remembered, even if it seems that everything is completely different.

He was always ready to tear apart someone who hurt you, he was ready to tear himself apart if he intentionally hurt you or went against your consent.

After a while, when you come to your senses, Sylus calmly picks you up and leads you into the shower. You can't fall asleep dirty.

[celestialempirehead]

SOFT W KISAKI TETTA

Tw: comfort

Tetta Kisaki, in love, sees the object of his desire not as a whole, vulnerable soul, but as a precious stone artfully set into the crown of his future greatness. For him, you are a perfect emerald, complementing the cold shine of unconditional power. A bloody ruby that highlights the power that no one should doubt. His imagination paints a sick picture of the ancient arc de Triomphe, under which you froze, a flawless statue buried alive, an eternal testimony to his genius.

His concern is a sticky web of silk and steel. He weaves it with threads known only to himself, with knowledge of every step and sigh, where protection consists in isolation, eliminating "unnecessary people": a competitor disappears in a massive cloud of gossip, and a friend moves away under the weight of sudden problems. Tetta is your jealous god in a small, narrow world where only he decides what is good and what is dirty.

• His gifts are poems written with poison and blood. A flawless blade in a highly polished scabbard:

"You'll be safe as long as I'm not around."

A rare book in an expensive binding:

— You are so smart, you will understand the depth of my thoughts.

Every gift is like a brand. The letters of your name are burned like red-hot gold on your soul. An encrypted message, known only to you two, about the fullness of his power, which has cast its shadow over your life.

The jealousy of Tetta Kisaki's lover knows no bounds. She is silent, demanding, and deadly. Your smile, turned to the other, is like a sentence signed in a flourish. His face remains impassive when a poisonous rage boils up inside. Just a little sharper than the edge of a smile, a little deeper is the coldness in the eyes behind the glasses. People like him don't kill quickly, he needs time to think, and later Tetta will certainly decompose the "opponent" like an insect under a microscope, finding a weak spot to drive a wedge there.

• Tetta Kisaki in love is an addiction wrapped in a colored foil of beautiful words and grand gestures. He doesn't say what he feels (because he only feels the hunger for control), but what you want to hear. Kisaki artfully crawls into every crack of your soul, fills the space with itself and pours the viscous poison of understanding, pressing on the sick.

"I'm the only one who sees you the way you are."

"They are unworthy of you, but I... I will build for you a throne of roses and thorns and a crown, as you deserve."

His every confession oozes with uncovered flattery. This is not a spiritual impulse or warm sincerity, but a perfectly fitted key that turns in the lock of your will.

• Any deviation from his own prepared scenario is blasphemy. Everyone in this game has their own role attached to them, and if you just shy away from it a little, their true face will be revealed. His "love" fades at this moment, giving way to cold rage at the recalcitrant instrument that dared to be human.

• Tetta Kisaki in love knows no boundaries. He breaks them under the guise of caring and devotion, and the touches become longer than usual. It consumes the space around the object of desire, demanding to be the center of the universe, the sun, around which the planets must revolve.

• His diaries, like sacred texts, are a kind of altar to the cult of one person. Pages covered with sick poems, words of love. Photos taken secretly and carefully pasted closer to the center of the notebook, an analysis of your weaknesses and a list of your plans for the day.

• Tetta Kisaki's love only breeds monsters. He doesn't know how to lose, and as soon as he feels you slipping out of his hands like an invisible thread, he will fly into a rage, destroying everything in his path. His despair is not silent anger or silent malice, but an all—destroying catastrophe that destroys everything in its path.

"If not for me.".. — his twisted logic whispers to him, - then let it become dust at my feet.

Kisaki's love is not a feeling, but a disease where desire is intertwined with a maniacal thirst for domination. The object of his adoration is not his beloved, but a living vessel for ambition. And like any madman who believes in his higher destiny, he is ready to sacrifice everything on the altar of greatness: someone else's happiness, freedom and life.

[celestialempirehead]

PREGNANCY W KÖNIG

Tw: comfort, pregnant reader

In the first moments, when the news of the pregnancy pierces him, a silent hurricane of panic will unfold under the mask of impenetrable Konig. Accustomed to holding fate in a steel grip, he will suddenly encounter the unknown – the life that is emerging inside you, a process beyond his control. But outwardly, of course, not a single muscle twitches.

Konig transforms into the epitome of hyperprotectiveness. He will become your shadow, making sure that you eat like a queen (and he cooks divinely, believe me), drown in rest and avoid the slightest overexertion. Gravity? Forget that word! He won't even be allowed to lift a cat.

He won't pour out mawkish compliments or babble endearments (well, almost). His concern will manifest itself in a practical, tangible form. Massage tired legs that ache after a long day? Steaming tea and a soft blanket while you're immersed in your favorite TV series? A minute-by-minute, almost obsessive health check? Yes, this is his harsh but endlessly loving style.

Konig will absorb all available knowledge about pregnancy, childbirth, and newborn care. He will know the stages of your child's development better than the periodic table. And yes, he torments doctors with a cascade of meticulous questions.

He's always been your shield, but during pregnancy, his protective instincts will skyrocket. He will scan the space around him like a radar, check every lock and vigilantly monitor your safety, like Cerberus guards the gate.

He will be a little embarrassed to discuss your condition with friends and colleagues, but at the same time he will be overwhelmed with pride, bursting his chest. He may even blush a little when he hears compliments about what a dazzling expectant mother you are.

Konig will approach preparations for childbirth with the composure and strategic thinking of a general planning a large-scale operation. He will make an exhaustive list of necessary items, thoroughly study the route to the hospital, and develop an emergency evacuation plan (just in case!) and he will pack the bag in the hospital with the precision and meticulousness of a special forces soldier.

At the moment of giving birth, he will become your unshakable rock. He will hold your hand, whisper words of support and remind you of your inner strength that can crush mountains. And, of course, he will closely monitor that the doctors act flawlessly.

After the birth of the baby, Konig will open up from a completely new, unexpected side. He will become a gentle and devoted father, ready to spend hours cradling a tiny miracle, changing diapers and whispering fairy tales. And yes, he will sing lullabies in his hoarse voice full of love (only very softly so that no one can hear!).

In general, pregnancy with Konig is an explosive mixture of brutality, touching care and carefully concealed, but still palpable quiet panic. But one thing is for sure: he will become the best, most devoted partner and father in the whole wide world.

Telegram: @CelestialEmpirehead