#I love the dynamic in this fic

[moonchild-nissa]

One Piece & Scars (part 1)

[rayveneyed]

bakugou katsuki proclaims, quite often, that he doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body. he snarls it — cheeks flushed an angry red — when you teasingly ask him for homemade chocolates, or to change your name in his phone to something cheesy. you’ve had him down as pumpkin from the moment you started dating, after all, and he’s long grown used to hearing baby and sweetheart and darling in place of his given name, even though he swears he hates it. you often tug at his wrist and point to bouquets of red roses, whining why don’t you ever get me those? just annoying enough to have him pulling your head under his elbow and roughly ruffling your hair, cursing the way he’s spoiled you.

kirishima got mina a heartbeat bracelet, you say pointedly, tucked under his arm on the couch and peering up at him with those eyes — those eyes that say you’re looking to push his buttons a little. (internally, he scoffs — as if he didn’t know. as if he wasn’t the one that gave shitty hair the idea in the first place. it’s just — it’s different, isn’t it, when he’s getting it for himself? for you?) shouldn’t we get something like that, baby ?

he grunts something unintelligible — something about how they’re gimmicky, how they probably don’t work, how it’d distract him when he’s kicking ass, how it’d probably melt with the use of a single howitzer impact, blah blah blah. you shrug. it’s not that big of a deal, anyway. you mostly brought it up to pull his leg a little — you know he’s not one for grand gestures like that, preferring his acts of service above all else — but for all the fight he’d put up, two heartbeat bracelets arrive at your apartment not even a week later. amazon prime expedited shipping, no less. 

he ignores you when you bring it up — lets you fasten it onto his wrist with little fanfare, the tips of his ears turning red, muttering something about he’d probably never use it, anyway, and he only got it so that you’d shut up about it all — never say i don’t do shit for you, woman!

but when he’s halfway across the world, tangled up in schemes larger than you have the capacity to think about — when you’re watching the news with teary eyes and bated breath, hands clutched to your chest, it always comes without fail: a small buzz on your wrist, gentle and thudding and rhythmic. ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump.

[hothammies]

getting caught cuddling with your "bro" gotta be the most embarrassing shit ever (fic from @campbyler)

[coffeecatcraze]

The fact that Vaggie knew it was a HORRIBLE idea for her to go to Heaven because there were so many things that could go wrong and so many bad memories there, but her girlfriend needed her and she couldn't say no to her cute face; the fact that the headstrong, optimistic, determined, powerful Princess of Hell knew she couldn't handle taking this huge step alone and the only one person she could imagine being by her side in that critical moment was Vaggie.

The fact that even when she felt so hurt, heartbroken, and betrayed and tried for a second to deny it, Charlie never stopped loving Vaggie, still referred to her as her girlfriend, and had full faith that she was completely succeeding in her task (getting detailed sensitive information from a weapons-dealing Overlord) while Charlie herself was struggling and failing with her own.

The fact that even with Charlie so upset that she intentionally threw a painful commentbat her (a comment with a subtle double meaning, though Charlie herself was definitely NOT thinking clearly enough to realize that implication and only meant to make a jab at the secret-keeping), Vaggie still wanted so desperately to protect Charlie out of love that she regrew angelic wings despite having been in Hell for years.

The fact that one gesture from Charlie told Vaggie everything she wanted to say to her, and that mutual understanding was so complete that she didn't hesitate to run to her knowing she would be accepted because her girlfriend still loved her and forgave her.

The support, love, and intimate understanding these two share even when things are hard and painful is so beautiful. They've been together for years; they've been through so much; and it's wonderful to have that respected and portrayed canonically instead of dipping into that easy, fan-craved trope of dramatically heavy relationship angst. I'm glad they left that angst itch to be scratched by fanworks instead, because these ladies aren't that type.

They are powerful; they are determined; they balance and complete each other; and most importantly, they are so head-over-heels and experienced in their love for each other that it took one day for Charlie to deeply consider everything and fully reconcile with Vaggie, who never doubted her even for a second. Their relationship isn't just established; it's stable, and I love to see that for a wlw couple. <3

[nonpoppie]

bingyuan sillies

[casieyfran]

Sith raised anakin x padme amidala dynamic be like XD

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

how deep is your devotion? ; satoru gojo

synopsis; you’re his knight, and he’s your prince. if only it were that simple.

word count; 6.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, royalty au (..but no effort put into making it historically accurate in any way oops), knight!reader x prince!toru!!, childhood friends, mutual pining, fluffy overall, some hurt/comfort too, vague allusions to abuse (reader is punished by one of the castle maids as a child but it’s only really hinted at), knight!reader is horrendously devoted but prince!gojo is arguably worse, he would burn the world down if u asked nicely <3

a/n; big big BIG thank u to @softgirlgonehaywire for having the biggest brain in the world and infecting me w this concept <33 if u pay attention while reading u can tell the exact moment i started slowly spiraling into insanity

you are five years old when you meet the prince.

five years old, a mere child, and too young to be blinded by such brilliance. too young to be where you are; curled up in a dark alley, back against a grimy brick wall, covered in bruises. like a beaten dog — scrawny and afraid. waiting for a strike that never comes.

the boy in front of you is also five years old, but you don’t know that. something in him looks older, somehow, something in the way he carries himself. like he doesn’t have anything to be afraid of. like he’s never even felt fear. he parts his lips and speaks like he has the right to, like he’s comfortable in his own skin, a radiance so blinding you could mistake him for the sun. too much for you to bear.

”does it hurt?”

the words fall on deaf ears. but you flinch, your body reacts, a tremble down your tiny spine. you hear the sound but not the words. too mesmerized, too paralyzed, unable to look away from the blue of his eyes, painted with rich watercolour hues. seeping into the world around you like ink on paper, cobalt and aquamarine and something else, something you’ve never seen before —

a blue so jarring it makes you shiver.

the boy has an innocent face. almost girlish, plump cheeks and long lashes, clean clothes and smooth skin. a little too pretty to be out here, you think, in this part of town — too pure to be anywhere near someone like you. he’s above you, that much you can tell. a pretty, innocent face, untouched by dirt or ache; the face of royalty. an entirely different species.

there’s something keen in his eyes, a contrast to his childlike features. a sharp gaze, something that sees through you, something that won’t look away. something mildly frightening. enough to have you cowering in fear, hugging your knees closer to your chest.

but then he smiles. and it’s sincere. sweet, vibrant, all honey and milk and a world you cannot reach.

a smile so captivating you take his outstretched hand, and let him drag you away to god-knows-where.

(that's how it begins. the dynamic that’ll follow you into your adult lives; satoru takes the lead, and you follow. no matter where he’s going.)

satoru gojo, as you soon come to learn, is the prince of the nation you reside in. the only child of the royal family, born with talent and prestige, fame and fortune, set to become king. a different species, indeed.

but he brings you home with him, to a castle so grand you feel as if your very presence is an insult to the architects who designed it, and convinces his parents to let you stay. it’s surprising, but you don’t protest; following him like a puppy at his trail. and he’s stubborn, insistent, demanding that he get to keep said puppy. 

the king and queen don’t care one way or another. they glance at you with apathy, and tell satoru to do what he wants — but convincing the scary and displeased castle maids takes some work. 

satoru doesn’t waver, though. he holds your hand in his, and demands that you be treated with respect.

and he wins. he always wins.

that’s how you become the prince’s playmate. raised alongside him, allowed to stay close, eat from the same food. he won’t settle for anything less. defending your honour, always, before you even know what honour means. before you care.

time passes slowly. joyously. every day is a new adventure, as you attempt to get used to the miracle that is your new life — sweet and silky, apricot blossoms and fresh peaches, duvet pillows and a bubbly laughter you didn’t know you still had. he coaxes it out of you, with every secret midnight outing, every bout of mischief he drags you both into. 

satoru has nice hands, uncalloused palms, fingers that grasp yours and don’t let go. he takes you outside, to see the stars, to catch fireflies in the dark of night on top of the hill that oversees the castle. to take a dip in the river just below it, gleaming a silver hue under the blue shade of the moon. you worry about getting in trouble, but he reassures you — the prince can do what he wants.

that might be true, but you are no prince. not even close. satoru may safeguard you, but all you’ll ever be in the eyes of the world is a stray he got to keep.

and one time, only one time, you do face the repercussions of your midnight outings. you, and you alone. a bad influence — seething words, buzzing in your ears. an angry castle maid, and a stinging pain in your cheek. blurry tears. 

but that’s an incident no one in the castle dares to speak of.

(you’ll never forget that look in his eyes.)

satoru is an odd boy. he keeps you close, always, clinging to you like he needs you to breathe. you don’t understand why, but you’ve learned not to question him. the castle guards all know you as the prince’s best friend, and some part of you knows that’s all you’ll ever amount to. but you don’t mind.

because you love him. at five years old, six years old, seven and beyond, you love him. satoru gojo, the kindest boy in the stratosphere. 

a boy who keeps finding you, no matter where you are, who tugs you along as naturally as the rise of the sun. who raids kitchen cabinets with you and always makes you laugh, little giggles and chuckles that have him beaming proudly. a boy who cleans your wounds with a serious expression, and tells you that he’ll protect you forever. 

(you tell yourself the same. that you’ll protect him forever and ever, until you run out of air to breathe. a boy so sweet you’d die for him.)

a pledge is made. you make it before you know what a pledge is. pledging to protect him, to become his sword, because even as a child you understand that his life will be difficult. you see it in the dullness that sometimes comes over his eyes, the apathy of his so-called parents, the hours he spends locked up with nothing but a pile of dusty books to keep him company. 

so you decide to become his knight. his, and his alone. 

it’s challenging. but you push through; training with another aspiring knight, miles better than you, black hair tousled by the breeze as he knocks you off your feet for the thirtieth consecutive time. wincing as the girl who sometimes watches your sparring patches you up, soft hands cleaning your wounds so tenderly that you almost choke up.

and eventually, as the apricot blossoms of the castle orchard wilt and bloom over and over in a flurry of pure white, your dream comes true. 

there’s something playful in satoru’s eyes, when he places his blade on the curve of your shoulder. something sweet and fond, and just a little bit ironic — as if you’re still seven years old, and playing house. 

you want to tell him that it isn’t a joke. that you’re serious, about this, that you’d tear your stomach open to keep him safe. but you know he’d just laugh. so you let the words clog up your throat, honey-sweet devotion sticking to the walls of your esophagus. breathing in through your nose, as he speaks. as the words you’ve waited to hear flow from his glossy lips.

when all is said and done, satoru smiles. he calls you his little knight, and you can tell that he’s teasing you. indulging you, as if he’s in on some joke that you aren’t. but you’ll take what you can get.

you call him my prince, expecting him to laugh it off, but his smile begins to fall. and a pang of ache rushes through your soul, instantaneous, guilty, although you don’t understand why.

so you keep calling him satoru. even though it’s more than a little unprofessional, and you become painfully accustomed to receiving a few judgemental looks here and there. a knight and a prince shouldn’t be so very close, they think, and you don’t disagree. but there’s nothing they can do about it, anyhow.

the prince and his knight can do what they want.

not much changes. you’re his knight, but he treats you the same as before. he’s playful, a little goofy, and you indulge him. as always. attached at the hip, bickering and bantering, bouncing off each other effortlessly. and satoru never bothers to hide your history, the soft spot he has for you; it’s in every fleeting glance, soft tilt of his head, teasing call of ah, there’s my favorite knight. 

(you’re no stranger to jealous looks. sometimes a pout on the lips of a pretty girl, a crease between the brows of one of your fellow knights. and sometimes a glare, from his fiancée — a woman he was engaged to before he was old enough to speak.

but you don’t mind. you’ve never cared what anyone but satoru thinks of you.)

satoru never loses his smile, that effortless air of confidence. the charm that makes people want to follow him, a charisma you know well. one you fell victim to at five years of age. he’s still just a prince, far from being a king, but he receives the same respect.

and that keen, sharp glimmer in his eyes never quite goes away; the hardened shell around his heart unbroken. you see it in fleeting glances, during meetings, ones he allows you to attend despite your status. when he speaks to a room of people with more power than you can imagine, his voice unwavering. back straight. elegant, serious, the presence of royalty — enough to receive respect without even trying. 

but he still shoots you a smile, easygoing, when your eyes meet. one only you can see.

as for you, the step into knighthood is a clumsy one. but you take your duties seriously, and adjust properly. a deep devotion runs through your veins, from your beating heart down to the tips of your fingers, where a sword lies clutched. you keep it close, always, ready to serve. to obey. to protect. 

all of it for one person.

all you do is for him. duels in his honour, beasts slain for his peace of mind, and he’s always there to welcome you back. wiping the blood from your cheek, tenderly, smearing his untainted skin with red; all while he looks at you softly, a coo or word of praise waltzing on the tip of his tongue. 

that’s only for when you remain unscathed, though, when the blood on your cheek isn’t your own. when you get hurt, it’s different — something begins to brew inside his eyes, and you can’t tell what it is. but he insists on bandaging you himself, paying no mind to your meek protests.

sometimes, you’re more reckless than usual. your injuries worse. sometimes he looks upset, angry with you, and doesn’t speak. you don’t, either.

a strange look comes over his eyes, every now and then. when you get down on one knee, to kiss his hand, the metal of the ring on his finger — and if you look up, you’ll see it. simmering inside those blue depths, something just as fond as it is sad. troubled, you think.

(something tells you he’d kneel, too, if only you’d let him.)

the bond between you remains intact. even as you begin to shoulder more responsibilities, more duties, even though you don’t have as much freedom as you used to. even though you seem to get less time to spend with each other every single day. but you stay together, even so; just like when you were children, running around and causing trouble, more than you could get away with now. 

despite everything, satoru has grown up into a fine man. and you couldn't be prouder.

“do you think i look good in black? be honest.”

you throw him a glance. curious, somewhat perplexed, eyeing him up and down.

satoru is wearing a white blouse, puffy sleeves and a low neckline, showing off the skin of his bare chest. no black colours to be seen. you think back to that banquet he attended last month, forced into an expensively tailored black coat. a corset around his waist. and then you hum.

“sure you do.”

”suguru said it makes me look like a try-hard,” he scoffs, crossing his arms. tilting his head in your direction. ”do you think he’s jealous?”

”definitely.”

a moment passes. 

satoru narrow his eyes, and gives you a dubious look. clicking his tongue. ”… something tells me you aren’t taking this seriously.”

”i am,” you assure him, a lazy smile at your lips. meeting his gaze, that displeased little pout. still smoothing a brush down the mane of your horse, the smell of hay soothing your muddled senses. ”just tired. you look good in anything. you know that.”

he hums. silent, the sound of a spring breeze filling in the gaps.

it’s late. outside the stables, the world is engulfed by a dark sky, almost too murky to see anything. hazy stars glimmer in the distance, and a sense of fatigue gnaws at your bones. it’s been a long day, and yet you’re here — doing even more work. just a little more.

and satoru’s right there with you. even though he’s just sitting there, on the floor, not lifting a finger to help. not that he has to. insistent on spending some quality time with you, keeping you company. just talking and munching on the food he snuck in, bread and cheese and an expensive bottle of wine, that he leaves completely untouched. he tries to leave some of everything else for you, though. keyword being tries.

a sense of peace simmers in the air. palpable, almost enough to taste, as midnight air streams in from the opened doors, chilly and pleasant on your skin. ruffling the thin fabric of your clothing.

and it’s nice, you think, just to have satoru there — talking about this and that, complaining about all the annoying people he had to meet yesterday, yawning every now and then. nostalgic. like this, it almost feels like you're still kids. back when you spent every single hour of the day by each other’s side.

it’s been a long time since you got the chance to speak like this. satoru’s been busy, and so have you. more so than usual.

”are they running you ragged?” he suddenly asks, and you don’t realize you’ve spent the last minute staring into space. resuming your brushing, with steady hands, but turning your head to meet his gaze.

”need me to…” he makes a slicing motion with his hand, right over his throat. a glint of mischief in his eyes. ”handle it?”

and you scoff. amused, but answering him seriously; unsure if his question is all-together humorous, if it doesn’t carry a hint of something genuine too. ”of course not.”

there’s a weariness in the way you blink. the way you pet the animal in front of you, having finished getting the dirt and blood clots out of her mane. she lays down in her stall, and you smile. turning around to rest your back against the wooden border between you, a respite for your aching bones.

it gets just a little bit tiring, sometimes. fighting, patrolling, helping townsfolk. protecting the castle, making sure everything is in order. killing whatever needs to be killed. cleaning the stained silver of your sword.

but…

”it’s my duty,” you answer, seriously, and it comes out sounding like a vow. because it is. 

you avoid his gaze, but you can feel it, as you pick up the wine bottle by your feet and pop the cork. soft moonlight flits in from the windows, illuminating the green glass. a chartreuse glow that reminds you of fireflies, shimmering in your grasp, and for some reason it soothes your heart.

satoru only hums, far from approving. popping a piece of cheese into his mouth. 

after a brief pause, he continues. ”you don’t have to be so serious all the time, you know.” his voice comes out a little raspy. it’s got a certain tilt to it, one that means he wants you to take him seriously. ”not around me.”

you take a sip of the wine. expensive, blood red. it’s too sweet for your taste, heavy on your tongue.

”… i’m less serious with you than i am with others.”

satoru sits up a little straighter.

”yeah?” he grins, a kind of satisfaction blooming in his eyes. cerulean and sweet. almost smug, you think, like the cat that got the cream. ”that’s good. you really should loosen up, though.”

a glance. fleeting, just to see him — but he isn’t looking at you. he’s looking outside, through the opened window, at the sway of the apricot trees. white petals flitting in, landing by his feet. in his hair.

when his eyes meet yours, they’re smoothed over by that something you can never put your finger on. a blend between longing and fondness. crinkled at the edges.

”you’ve got a pretty smile,” he exhales. ”be a shame not to show it off.”

when you look at him, really look at him, you see it. that fatigue. it slips out when he talks to you, a sincere way of speaking that never quite allows him to hide his emotions. you hear the hint of a yawn, can practically feel the weight on his shoulders. the weight of an entire nation. a weight he was always bound to carry.

(you could never bring yourself to be even remotely alright with it.)

“have you been doing okay?” you ask, and satoru blinks. there’s a soft look in your eyes, as they trail over the contours of his face, his lashes catching the light of the stars. an innocent, pretty face. but he looks tired. frail. like he hasn’t been sleeping properly.

something rotten bubbles up inside your throat.

”they’re running you ragged, too,” you say, hand settling on your hip. where your sword usually is. unconsciously, on instinct — or maybe just to make him laugh. ”need me to step in?”

satoru chuckles. husky, mellow. dripping with soft amusement.

”settle down, little knight.”

a moment passes. silent. his eyes flutter shut, for a second, and a breath slips from his lips. almost a sigh. in the distance, you hear the quiet coo of an owl. 

”of course,” he eventually answers, opening his eyes. and you think he looks a little resigned. but smiling. self-deprecating, you think, although he’d like you to assume otherwise. ”all of it is just preparation, anyhow.” 

a flimsy smile, as he looks into your knowing eyes. ”it’s what i was born for, wasn’t it?”

you purse your lips.

“… i don’t think so.”

another chuckle. a little delighted, this time. 

“yeah,” he cranes his neck, emitting a low groan. “me neither.” something sweet blossoms in his eyes, sweet like the crunch of the apple he bites into, juice dribbling down his chin. ”but it is what it is.”

a beat. you part your lips, trying to find the right words. ”tell me if there's anything i can do,” you settle on. the same words you always choose. ”anything at all.”

satoru smiles. “right.” his voice carries a teasing tilt; almost a purr. ”there’s nothing you wouldn't do for me, hm?” 

“— there isn’t.” you smile. “nothing at all.”

he blinks. a little dazed, for a second, and you watch as his ears redden. slight, enough for you to notice, but gone before you can bring it up. a contemplation smooths over his features. and a pleasant breeze flits in, ruffling his hair, apricot petals kissing up his skin. he looks at the apple in his hands.

then he sighs. placing his palms on his knees, and rising to his feet. his arms twitch, muscular beneath the flimsy blouse, and you gulp. although you aren’t sure why.

“alright, then.” his eyes flicker in the dim light, sharp and decisive. he crosses over to you with long strides. “there is something you can do.”

when he’s close enough, satoru reaches out his hand; opening his palm. a silent beckoning. you look at him, not saying a word. his expression is unreadable. 

then you intertwine your fingers with his. unquestioningly, even in the midst of your confusion.

(it reminds you of that day. when he pulled you up to your feet, held your hand in his and refused to let go. leading you to the promise of something better.)

no matter where he goes, you follow.

and satoru grins. it’s sweet, just like back then, a smile so vibrant you wish you could tuck it into your sleeve and keep it there forever. he curls his fingers around yours, gentle, fondness bubbling up inside his eyes. for a second, you think you see the sun.

“come with me.”

at first, you truly aren’t sure where he’s going to take you. hand in hand, you begin to walk, feeling the midnight breeze nip at your skin. beyond the castle walls, away from the hustle and bustle of the nearby town. satoru holds your hand and smiles, tousled tufts of white hair swaying with the wind, leading you to a place you know well. a place where the air tastes like freedom.

it’s the river you used to play by as children.

gleaming a solemn silver under the evanescent moon, framed by bushes of lilacs, blooming indigo and violet and pure white. butterflies flutter about, almost glittering, blue wings settling down on the leaves. the scent of nectar hangs heavy in the air. on top of the hill just above you, you think you can spot tiny little glowing dots; green and yellow, buzzing around. dancing merrily, now that there aren’t any troublemaker children left to trap them.

satoru lets go of your hand, to roll up his sleeves. the hems of his pants. then he’s taking a step forward, dangerously close to the edge of the river, and you can tell what he’s thinking.

“ah — wait —“ you stumble forward, to grab hold of his arm. a worried crease forms between your brows. “that's dangerous, satoru. you could slip and fall.”

he turns to face you, a teasing mirth in his eyes. smirking lightly. “oh? is that so?” he hums, a slight tilt of his head. then he’s stepping closer, so close you feel his warm breath on your skin, but you will yourself not to step back. “wanna know what i think?”

he leans forward, just a little further, warm air brushing against the shell of your ear. flushing beneath it. his voice comes out low, a sleepy lilt, dangerously raspy. hand ghosting over your waist.

”i think you’re too scared to get in.”

you blink.

”… really?” you deadpan, stepping back a tad. satoru looks pleased with himself. awfully amused.

“really,” he purrs. “you were always like that. could barely dip your toes in without shivering.” he reaches out to pinch your cheek, a coo on the tip of his tongue. ”scaredy-cat.”

you raise your brow. unimpressed.

satoru steps back. inching closer to the river, until a quiet splash tells you that he’s standing in the water. lapping up his bare legs, not enough to even reach his knees — it felt a lot scarier when you were smaller. he’s still holding your hand, very loosely, fingertips ghosting your own. 

“c’mon,” he coaxes. soft, encouraging, a playful glimmer in his eyes. teeth catching the light of the moon. “or is it too much for my brave knight to handle?”

satoru laughs, when you furrow your brows, attempting to hide the flush of your cheeks. a warmth spreads through your chest at the term of endearment, and you bite your lip. melting a little. 

his knight. his favourite knight.

“.. fine,” you tangle your fingers in his own. sighing deeply, taking a tentative step forward. “just be careful, okay? i don't want to deal with your whining if you hit your head.”

“ah, but you’d kiss it better, no? if i asked?” he flashes you a honeyed grin, eyes rich with amusement. you hope the darkness of the night is enough to hide the red of your ears.

a grumble buzzes in your throat, locked behind your pursed lips. something in your jaw goes tight.

the man in front of you softens. parting his glossy lips. he says your name; slowly, thoughtfully, as if savouring every syllable. dragging them out, speaking with a lilt that tells you he’s being sincere.

“— loosen up. it’s just you and me.”

so you do.

and it’s odd. how easy it is to get lost in him, the watercolour of his eyes, the brightness of his grin. how pliantly you let him whisk you away. before you know it, you’re playing in the water — because satoru splashed you, laughing at the shock on your face and the shiver of your spine, and you had no choice but to retaliate. 

the sound of his laughter fills the air, sweet and bubbly. deep and giddy. strands of hair stick to his wet skin, droplets running down his neck, but his grin never falters. bright and toothy, boyish. he looks younger than you ever remember him being. like there’s no weight on his shoulders, none at all, only soaked fabric weighing him down. a flimsy, see-through blouse.

you think it’s ridiculous. two grown adults, splashing each other like children. but his melodic giggles are contagious, and before you know it, you’re laughing too — and satoru looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. through dewy eyelashes, with cerulean eyes that melt into the pale blue of the moon and the silver of the river. filled with wonder.

a particularly ruthless splash knocks him off balance, and he has the instinct to reach for your arm; stumbling, slipping, dragging you down with him. you land on his chest, cheek against his neck, his pulse against your skin. erratic, joyous. fluttering happily.

his chest is heaving. lifting you up and down, a little, rhythmic and comforting. 

a sudden yelp slips past your lips, as you get snapped back into reality, into the realization that you basically just pushed your own prince into a river and used his unfairly soft chest as a cushion. a mumbled string of apologies escapes you, as you attempt to get up, scrambling to find footing.

but satoru wraps his arms around you. tucking you under his chin, keeping you flush against his chest. nice and still. 

and then he sighs. a blissful little breath, fatigue seeping out of him. into the air. 

“stay like this, for a bit,” he rasps. ”it’s okay.”

his heartbeat resounds in your ear. warm and rapid, like claps of thunder, coaxing you into closing your eyes. satoru has always felt so very safe. the water of the river is cold, seeping through the fabric of your clothing and sticking to your skin, but…

(he’s warm.)

silence. and then, a whisper; frail, slipping past his lips, gently slicing the silence in half. softer than you've ever heard him speak.

“i missed this.”

…

nuzzling into his neck, you breathe him in. he smells like sandalwood and dried roses, buzzing with warmth, heavy arms around your waist. solid. when did he get so big? you used to be taller. 

then again — that was a long time ago, wasn’t it?

“… me too.”

“missed you,” he continues, his jaw on top of your head. it’s a sincere confession; childlike in its innocence. “missed hearing you laugh like that. feels like it’s been so long.” 

you stay silent. unsure of what to say. satoru continues, and you let his husky voice carry you away, the tremor of his chest running through your entire body. soothing like a lullaby. 

”we haven't had much time together, lately. i’ve been worried,” he admits, and something about it strikes you as rather sheepish. a little ashamed. ”it bothers me that i can't be there to watch over you. make sure you're treated with respect, you know.”

a sleepy chuckle. muffled into his shoulder, almost a scoff — slightly exasperated. little droplets cling to his skin, sticking to your lips.

”relax, your majesty,” you tease. ”i promise the other knights aren’t bullying me.” 

satoru pouts. you can hear it, when he speaks. ”i’m serious,” he huffs, squeezing you lightly. ”and it’s not them i’m worried about. suguru’s there.”

another scoff threatens to escape your throat. you want to tell him the only knight that should be suspected of bullying you is suguru himself, but before you can even think to part your lips satoru’s beaten you to it.

”they all treat you so carelessly.” there’s something cold to his voice, an irritation tugging at his teeth. oddly seething. ”like you exist to serve them. like you’re disposable.” 

a moment passes, heavy with a silence so thick you don’t dare break it. when he speaks again, it’s an order. a demand. 

”i want you to tell me if they go too far.”

silence. again. you can do nothing but gnaw at the flesh of your bottom lip. 

(he isn’t wrong. but that’s simply what it means to be a knight — half-human, half-weapon. an unattainable ideal, stuffed inside a suit of armor.

when a weapon breaks under the force of a slash, the only choice is to throw it away. that much you know.)

”it’s fine. i’m not that fragile,” you weakly protest, but it’s not enough. satoru huffs.

”you’re a human being,” he reminds you. strangely stern, for once. chastising. ”you deserve to be treated with respect. knight or not. fragile or not.”

a deep inhale. he breathes in, and the rise of his chest carries you with it. his voice buzzes with something, a slumbering kind of fury. one you haven’t heard in years. 

“if anyone gives you trouble — if anyone hurts you… if anyone makes you feel unsafe,” he almost spits the words, like they’re venomous, sacrilegious. ”tell me. i’ll destroy them.”

silence. and then, a chuckle.

that’s all you can manage; that one meek little breath. resisting the urge to cower, at the love that clings to every word he speaks. angered affection. a promise, dangerously genuine, like a growing wildfire.

”i can take care of myself, satoru,” you remind him. hoping it’ll soothe him. ”you know that.”

but his grip around you only tightens. gentle, even still. as if you’re made of glass, a firefly cupped in his palms. he lets the silence linger, for a moment.

and then; 

“i’d do it, you know.”

a questioning hum. “do what?” you ask, though some part of you already knows. 

satoru’s reply is instantaneous. an arrow hitting its target, cold and concise, decisive. frighteningly honest. almost a growl, flattened, a hint of teeth behind his soft lips. ”destroy them. anyone.”

”i’d tear this nation apart if you asked me to.”

…

(ah. that look in his eyes — one you remember well. strung together with blurred memories, the sting of a palm on your cheek, a castle maid you never saw again.)

you search for the words. biting back a gulp, hesitant. “… i wouldn’t.”

“i know.” satoru yawns, breathing you in, voice shifting back into the softness you’re so used to. your shoulders relax. “but i would. if that’s what you wanted.”

and it’s a little scary, the depths of his devotion. but you’re almost certain you’d do the same for him. maybe you're both a little sick in the head, a little too eager to serve your hearts on a silver platter.

“it bothers me, you know.” satoru breaks you out of your thoughts. gentle, a soft lull of his tongue. ”when you get hurt. when you fight for me.”

“i know,” you murmur. you’ve seen it in his eyes, a worry he’s not as good at hiding as he thinks. ”i want to, though.”

“and i want you to be safe.” a chuckle bubbles up in his throat, just a little bit rueful. “you never listen, do you? so stubborn, i swear. always worrying me.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds… a little sad.

“… sorry.”

a moment’s pause. then he shakes his head; cradling you close. “it’s fine. i’m here. always,” his palm runs down the small of your back. ”in case anything happens.”

he inhales. ”and when i become king —” a beat. he swallows thickly. ”you’ll never have to worry again. no one will be able to touch you.”

”satoru,” you crack a small smile. amused. raising a single eyebrow. ”i’m not worried. i can protect myself.”

”i know. but i’m saying you don’t have to.”

and then he’s pulling back. just a little bit, just enough to see you. cheek smushed against his chest, comfortable and soft, more unguarded than he’s seen you these past few months. it’s enough to get his heart racing.

enough to have him reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your hand, tangling your fingers together. bringing it to his glossy lips. a chaste kiss, brimming with unspoken murmurs of love.

”— i’ll protect you forever,” he vows. ”remember?”

there’s devotion in his eyes. heavy, a vow he’ll never quite be able to voice in full. something that makes the blue of his eyes glow even brighter, cerulean, aquamarine, a blue so jarring it makes your heart beat faster than it should.

you blink. starstruck, caught in a daze, lost within that sea of blue. distracted by his warm breath on your cold skin, the soft whisper voiced against your knuckle. something shy blossoms in your chest, enough to have you averting your gaze. 

“... you really don’t care about the dynamic here, do you?” is all you can reply. a meek scoff, a weak attempt at hiding how flustered you are. “i’m the knight. i’m your protector.”

“oh, i know.” a smile sticks to his lips, playful, the back of his hand caressing your cheek. a coo on his tongue. “my little hero. what would i ever do without you?”

a roll of your eyes. satoru chuckles. in the distance, you hear crickets chirping, a breeze rustling the lilac bushes all around you. he’s still cradling your cheek, smoothing over your wet skin, brushing a drop of water away with his thumb. clinging to your bottom eyelash.

“i don't get it, though.”

you blink. when you meet his eyes, satoru looks a little perplexed. muttering under his breath, absently rubbing circles over your cheekbone. you resist the urge to close your eyes again, biting back a blissful sigh.

”a prince shouldn’t care for his knight…” he repeats, like he’s heard the string of words a million times before. ”the idea of that. i don’t understand it. never have.”

the smile that blossoms on his lips is soft, indescribably so, as if he’s looking at the most precious thing in his life. rich and warm, like wine in your veins, nectar on your tongue, a chest pressed against your own. dripping with fondness.

satoru tilts his head, as if in confusion — but he’s smiling. “what’s so strange about wanting to protect the one dearest to my heart?” 

…

his hand slips from your skin, a warmth leaving your cheek. only to search for your hand, again, cradling it in his larger palm. placing it right over his chest, against the soaked material of his blouse. ”feel that?”

you do. a rhythmic rise and fall, a soft flutter from the depths of his ribcage. as if it’s itching to break out, out of the cage that binds it, the hardened shell around it. a heart too big for his body.

”it’s you,” satoru whispers. ”all for you.”

a moment passes.

silently, you lean forward; tucking yourself into his neck. into that comforting warmth, wet skin beginning to dry, the steady thrum of his heart right by your ear. you listen. not saying a word, afraid of what might leave the confines of your strangled throat. it feels as if your heart has begun to crawl upwards, sweet honey blocking your airways, and all you can do it feel it pulse. 

all while satoru gazes at you, fondly. placing a big palm on the back of your head.

fireflies dance in the distance. butterflies flutter about. strings of lilacs bloom under the glow of the moon. and satoru’s heartbeat never changes, never falls out of tune, a sound you would recognize even if the sky were to shatter, if the world were to end. the sound that saved you, the boy who dragged you out of hell. into his light. 

satoru gojo is everything. he’s the beat of your heart, the silver of your sword, the reason you believe in goodness. he’s your prince, your favorite person, and you’ll protect him until your very last breath. until the world runs out of oxygen.

a boy so sweet you’d die for him.

(a boy so sweet he wouldn’t want you to.)

a shiver runs down his spine — sudden, a shudder of his bones, and a quiet little sniffle. you feel it, hear it, and don’t attempt to bite back the fond smile that slips into the curve of your lips.

”c’mon,” you beckon, almost a coo, placing your palms on his chest to hoist yourself up. ”let’s go home.”

but satoru shakes his head. and then he traps you again, strong arms around your waist, pressing you against him. you could escape — you’re almost certain you’re stronger — but you don’t quite have the heart to. ”it’s fine,” he huffs. almost a whine. ”stay.”

”you’ll get sick.”

”i never get sick.”

a deep exhale. tumbling from your lips, just a little bit humorous. mostly exasperated. ”that can change,” you mumble, fingertips dancing along his exposed skin. absentmindedly.

a smile. one you can’t see, but you hear it clear as day. he sounds content, like he’s got everything he needs right in front of him. ”some things never change,” he informs you. pleased. ”just look at us.”

and he’s right. so you don’t say anything else. 

but your heartbeat quickens, only for a beat or two, and you’re almost certain he feels it. if he does, he opts not to tease you for once, and you’re grateful. and so the silence lingers. as if time has begun to freeze, into an eternal dusk, a string of silent seconds. broken only by low melodic chirping from the faraway fields, his soft breaths in your ear. 

until satoru suddenly chuckles.

“hey,” he hums, shifting a little, the river swaying around you. pulling back to meet your gaze, eyes crinkled and voice raspy. “wanna know a secret?”

you raise your head. a dubious look on your face, one that has him breathing out an amused puff of air, like you’re getting ready to hear a bad joke. “... what is it?”

before the words have fully left your throat, he’s resting his forehead against yours — breath fanning over your lips. a pleasant shiver trails down your spine, at the close proximity, goosebumps spreading across your chilled skin. only exacerbated by the whisper that follows, so quiet you almost don’t know if you heard him correctly. childlike in its sincerity. a sunlaced smile woven in between the vowels.

“i think i was born to meet you.”

(a sentiment so sweet you barely even feel the warmth of his lips meeting yours.)

[choccy-milky]

seb meeting clora's parents (clive & margaret) for the first time🤭

they come to hogwarts due to clora being kidnapped by ranrok, so seb had to deal with them all on his own LMAO. sorry seb i just love to watch u squirm🙏😇 (from chap 28 of my fic!)

[chronurgy]

Gortash designs and builds mechanisms so I imagine he has to be able to sketch fairly decently in order to sketch his projects and designs. And I'm imagining a pile of charcoal sketches of Durge, done over their entire acquaintance, starting out with sketches of them in battle and then slowly becoming more detailed and intimate and as they do, the titles changing from things like "The Bhaalspawn" and "Bhaal's Chosen at Their Bloody Work" to "The Chosen in Contemplation" and finally just Durge's name

[mblue-art]

this man. ..

(inspo) (og meme)

[2aceofspades]

Teeth and Tears

~Lil bonus doodle~

(:

[ellitx]

Entrapment | Alastor x Reader

Okay, hear me out. Alastor being a darling husband he is with his darling wifey is cute and all, but what about a darling wanting to escape from Alastor himself?

word count: 2.3k

warnings: alastor is enough to be a warning already, depictions of blood and gore, toxic and unhealthy dynamic

When you were still alive, he always had his eyes on you and controlled you like his little puppet. You hated it, you hated being commanded and controlled for every little thing you did and if you even dared run away from him, he’d always manage to find you. You hate every atomic part of his existence so much that you’d be willing to kill yourself just so you could escape and get that taste of freedom.

But you can’t and he won’t let you.

Alastor would never allow the tip of the knife nor even a simple piece of office equipment reach your hands. And if someone has the audacity to touch his play toy, it’s time to say goodbye.

You know he’s a malicious murderer, and he knows that you know about it. If you’re feeling brave enough to tell it to the police then go ahead, because by the time you report this to them and leave the station, the next day you find yourself throwing up yesterday’s dinner upon hearing the cops were all dead.

No one will ever believe you that the infamous radio host of your city is a murderer. For a puny citizen like you, what power do you hold to convince everyone? They’ll laugh it off and say you’re crazy.

But it’s crazier how they are all deceived by the facade he puts on. His knife plunged into the chest of your coworker, their blood spluttering on his cheek.

Alastor’s wide smile was strained and wicked, the image of the blood dripping from your head and lips when he entered the broadcasting booth was as clear as his collection of polished knives.

The audacity to lay a hand on you and push you down the stairs. Do they have the right to push you off? Of course not! He’s the only one who could torment you until you break!

He’s the only one who could tarnish your being and leave a wounded mark on your soul and heart, a reminder for you there’s no one but himself who could make you so powerless and helpless.

Do they have the right to make you so confused? To put all the blame on you, as if you were the worst person in the world? To try their best to tear you apart piece by piece? Because, after all, it’s always the fault of someone else, right? The audacity to hurt you more than any human has ever hurt another human being before… The nerve to be sure you will never find true happiness again because you're now scarred for life.

He thrust the blade again, the rains of scarlet droplets continued to pour until his face and glasses were doused.

But he didn’t let it hinder him from making sure they were as good as dead. He lifted his head and took a glimpse at the sky above. It was gloomy, gray, and dark. Not much sunshine.

Alastor smiled, stabbing the knife at the corpse's chest before wiping off his glasses with his clean napkin. Then an idea clicked onto him.

It's the perfect time to give you a little visit.

He laughed under his breath and stood up straight.

He knew his outfit was not in good condition, but oh well... Perhaps, he’d instead leave a gift for you on your porch. Oh, how he wished he could make an unexpected appearance, just to witness the shock and horror on your face as Alastor comes to the hospital drenched in a coat of glistening crimson.

The anticipation of your reaction fueled his excitement, the more he thought about it, the bigger his grin became. If this would truly happen, it will surely be a sight to behold.

Still fragile from your time in the hospital, you stepped through the threshold of your home.

You missed the sight of its familiar structure, the only space you feel safe and protected, away from Alastor and your colleagues.

A sense of relief washed over you. The familiar sights and comforting aura of your own space enveloped you like a warm embrace. But something was different, something unexpected awaited you.

There on the polished surface of your entryway sat an elegantly wrapped box, its rich paper adorned with intricate patterns and tied with a luxurious ribbon. Your fingers traced the smooth edges of the packaging and you checked for any signs who sent it. Alas, no name was found.

Who could have left this for you? And why now, upon your return from the hospital?

You had a bad feeling about it.

As you carefully untied the ribbon and peeled back the layers of paper, you stared wide-eyed at the contents hidden within.

Severed limbs, skin deathly pale and stiff.

Your stomach turned violently and you threw the box away from you, the gift spilling across the floor.

"Oh god, oh my god, what the fuck?!"

You were shaking. What was this? Was this a threat? A sick joke? Your heart thudded heavily in your chest, each beat pounding like thunder. You took a step back and stumbled, falling hard to the floor.

It didn't stop there.

Wounds inflicted on every part of your body, the scars on you began to open, rendering the healing done by doctors and nurses useless.

Wounds made by knives, claws, scissors, guns. Every imaginable instrument of torture. You cried out loud. Your voice pierced the quiet of the night, disturbing the tranquility of the neighborhood.

It was a perpetual and horrid nightmare. Just closing your eyes for even a millisecond, the image of his wide creepy smile flashed before you. You could hear his dark cackles, enjoying the sight of your vulnerable form as he tormented you in and out of your work.

“Run as far as you want, dear. In the end, I’ll always be ahead of you.”

The worst part was not knowing when he would strike next. He could appear anywhere at any time.

And it was all because of his sick game.

You didn't know what to do anymore. How long did you have to keep running from him? How many more days did you have to hide from the world? You were so tired of this, tired of having to live in fear of the monster that hunted you.

But God had finally heard your pleas and granted the wish you’ve been wanting for so long. So when the news came to you that the notorious radio host was dead, relief and happiness flooded every vein in your body.

You rejoiced, celebrating the death of the one who had terrorized you for a long time.

The nightmare was finally over.

The radio station was sullen by the news of their popular host, but you didn’t care. Your work became more efficient. You didn’t feel the need to be so wary and anxious by every move you made in the station. You have finally gained your freedom and the chain that was tied to him has shattered.

This was the best thing you could ever ask for.

Even on your deathbed, it was the best dream. Years without Alastor torturing and tormenting you was bliss. A man’s greatest wealth of freedom.

But then, the dream quickly turned into a nightmare, for it was never over. The demon who you thought was dead rose once again. It was only then you realized that he was never human in the first place. He was a monster.

And now, it was you who were caught in his web.

"My, what a wonderful reunion. Did you miss me, darling?”

The demon before you was mysterious.

Unfamiliar.

But his aura and voice screamed for you, the alarms in your body ringing, to run away from him as far as you possibly can.

The wide smile plastered on his face was all too familiar. Too familiar to be hated in the living and the dead. You’d be a fool if you didn’t recognize it.

You knew who he was. You just kept on denying what was the truth, brushing all the facts laid before you beneath the rag, and keeping your pretty little head away from the politics of Hell.

A demon who is powerful, dangerous, and cruel.

A demon who was feared by the other demons in Hell. A demon who is not to be messed with.

Alastor. The Radio Demon.

It was a miracle, or rather a curse, that you were brought back to life. But now you are a prisoner to this Hell. Trapped inside an inescapable cage with a dangerous beast, you could only hope that your second death would come quickly and peacefully.

But it seemed that fate was not on your side, and Alastor was the ever cruel demon. He did not scar you easily and instead prolonged your suffering, making your life a living torture.

Beads of sweat rolled from your temple. Your hands began to tremble and you felt yourself slowly succumbing to your fear. You had nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

You were cornered, trapped.

Alastor had you where he wanted.

You watched him closely, eyes locked on him and every single movement. If he did something, you would see it.

"Are you frightened, dear?" he asked. His eyes met yours and he smiled. "There is no need to be afraid."

"Stay back! Don't touch me!" you shouted at him. The corners of his lips curled up, his smile turning sinister.

"Now, now, let's not act too hastily."

His gloved hand reached out and caressed your cheek, sending shivers down your spine. His red eyes bore into your soul, burning with hunger.

You couldn't bear to look at him. You didn't want him touching you.

"Don't," you whimpered.

"Don't be afraid. You have no reason to be afraid."

Rivers of tears streamed down your cheeks as the fear overwhelmed you. You didn't want him touching you. This man... He was the same one who hurt you, who ruined you.

"Why? Why are you doing this? Why are you here?"

The smile on his face grew wider.

"Do I need a reason? It’s obvious why we’re here," he replied, cocking his head to the side, eyes piercing through your eyes and consuming every little bit of your reactions in his head.

You gulped and stepped back, trying to create some distance between you and him.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled. "What a silly question! Would a little reacquaintance hurt?"

Reacquaintance? He was talking like this was a casual meeting. Like you were old friends reuniting. But this was the man who hurt you.

"What's the meaning of this?” You sobbed, shaking your head.

Alastor laughed loudly, his grin never faltering, and it makes you sick he finds everything amusing. An entertainment for his delight.

"You never fail to amuse me, dear. Aren’t you the one who killed me?” His antlers grew, his pupils changed to radio dials and his shadow stretched out of him, becoming more demonic in appearance.

You trembled. Your heart beat faster, your legs felt weak, and your mouth was dry.

"I... I…."

He stepped closer, and you stepped back.

Nothing came out of your lips. The words you wanted to say were stuck in your throat. You didn't want to look him in the eyes but his gaze held your chin up high, forcing you to face him. He smiled, and his eyes turned back to normal.

The knees that kept you upright gave in, unable to stabilize you any longer as your body slumped onto the rough pavement.

"Oh, darling," he sighed, the radio static in his voice disappeared as he crouched down. 

Your gaze remained fixed on the ground, avoiding any chance encounter with Alastor's piercing stare. Instead, your eyes trailed to his cane, a silent witness to the tense atmosphere between you.

You dared not meet those fiery red optics that seemed to delve into the depths of your very being, dissecting every nuance of your expression. Fingers clenched tightly, you seek some form of solace in the texture of the barren earth beneath you, as though it could take you amidst the storm brewing within.

Alastor took your chin between his fingers and delighted your vulnerable form. Your eyes were bloodshot and puffy and cheeks stained with tears.

"Fate has intertwined us together, dear. Run from me, I’ll always find you."

You didn't know what was more cruel—being brought to hell when you only wished for peace or being toyed around with him after death.

The nightmare you once thought had finally ceased returned to resume its cycle in the afterlife.

"I'll never get away from you..." You said, voice low and wavering. All hope was lost and so was your faith to continue living in this fiery pit of Hell.

"That's right. Good girl," He patted your head, taking a few strands of your hair and twirling it between his fingers. You fought the impulse to recoil, suppressing the urge to swat his hand away. 

The consequence of such defiance weighed heavily on your mind; after all, provoking one of hell's overlords was a gamble you weren't willing to take. So you held your ground, masking your inner turmoil beneath a facade of obedience, unsure of what consequences awaited should you dare to challenge the infernal authority before you.

In the dim light, his hand tenderly brushed away the tear tracing its path down your cheek. But as your eyes met his, a glint of something primal flickered in the darkness, casting an eerie glow upon his sharp, yellowed teeth.

Upon the moonlight, his crimson irises blazed like embers, drawing you into their hypnotic depths with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

"But fear not, darling. I can promise you a good time. And now that I found you again, we can pick up from where we left off. It will be just like old times."

[devildom-moss]

October poll story

Barbatos - Monster kink

(Barbatos x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (top!Barbatos / bottom!MC) (NSFW tags: monster!Barbatos - non-canon/enhanced demonic features including increased greed and lust, claws, sharp teeth, forked tongue that matches his tail, bigger tail, and bigger "tail"; sex involving magic; no specified sex organs for MC; oral - receiving; penetration - receiving; tail penetration; double stuffed by one man - tail and penis penetration simultaneously; technically masturbation; mild bloodplay, mild primal play; begging; multiple orgasms; seriously judging myself at this point CNC - Somno; mild temperature play; implied being used as a human sex toy; no lube - but tail is naturally wet, so mostly no lube; no condom; overstim - receiving; creampie; mentions of very trusting sex)

(other tags: Plot heavy - in the first half, then it basically all erotica, everyone is annoyed with Solomon poor guy kinda?)

Word Count: +4,600 new longest fic for me?

When you heard that Diavolo was going on an overnight trip without Barbatos, you knew you had to go to the castle and get as much alone time as you could with your favorite butler. Considering that Diavolo was also being left in Lucifer’s very capable hands during the trip, you figured Barbatos wouldn’t be in the anxious state that typically overcame him when Lord Diavolo wasn’t under his close watch. So, when you turned up unannounced at the castle that morning only for Little D. no. 2 to answer the door, something seemed off. You tried not to worry, though. Barbatos was probably preoccupied with one of his many tasks.

“Well, if it isn’t Number 2, how are you doing today?” You smiled and patted his head.

“MC! I’m so happy to see you! Are you here to visit Mr. Barbatos? Ooh, I wonder if he’ll come out of his room for you. No one has seen him at all this morning, and when I knocked on his door to check for him, I heard this weird noise before he asked me to leave him alone. Can you believe that? Well, I thought maybe he wasn’t feeling good, so I brought him some tea – now, it wasn’t anywhere near as good as the tea he makes, but when I brought it, he told me that it wasn’t necessary. I left it at the door, but guess what? When I checked back, the tea was cold and untouched. I don’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to call anyone yet because that seems like something Mr. Barbatos would get mad at me for, but since you’re already here, maybe you could check on him and make sure he’s okay.” The monologue recounting this morning’s events spilled from Number 2’s mouth quickly and with no room for interruption.

Without much thought, you had followed Number 2 in the direction of Barbatos’s room – some attempt to physically follow along with his story as your brain processed the information. You let the words absorb into your mind, fishing for a relevant question. It was already past 10AM. Barbatos was always up and about by now. “Did he sound sick?”

“Can’t say. If not sick, he definitely sounded strange – like he was talking with his mouth half-full or something.” Number 2 hummed and tilted his head to the side. “Or, you know how when you bite your tongue or burn it on your soup because it smells too good not to eat it right away – even though Mr. Barbatos warned you to be careful and let it cool?”

“Sure.” You shook your head and stared down the hall. Barbatos’s room was just a few doors down.

“Anyway, I think something is wrong, so I’d really appreciate it if you could look out for Mr. Barbatos. If he really is sick, you’ll take care of him, right?”

“I’d be happy to.”

“Great.” Little D. no. 2 stopped in front of Barbatos’s door and turned around to face you. “I’ll leave it to you. I’m sure the rest of us can find a way to keep the castle running while you tend to Mr. Barbatos, so don’t worry about anything else!”

“Thank you, Number 2. You’re so reliable.” You could tell how worried and eager to help he was. Number 2 nodded and left you outside of Barbatos’s door. You stood there silently for a second, listening for any strange noises or coughs, before gently knocking. “Barbatos, it’s me. Can I come in?”

“MC?” Your name was quiet and muffled.

“Barbatos? I’m going to enter, alright?”

“Wait. I –” he started to protest in an unusually slurred speech, but it was too late. You had already opened the door.

Barbatos’s eyes seemed to glow in the dim light of his bedroom. He had backed himself against the nearest wall. His typically gloved hands were bare, revealing sharp, claw-like nails. One of those hands shot up over his mouth. You heard his tail thump against the wall a few times before he grabbed it with his free hand, stilling its aggravated motions.

“What’s wrong?” you asked him cautiously. He looked different – more demonic than usual.

“Solomon,” Barbatos responded with his hand still over his mouth, only exacerbating his strange enunciation. He was frozen in place.

Of course. You sighed and shut your eyes. What did he do this time? You closed the door behind you and took a few steps into the room. Barbatos eyed you with every move – even as you reached into your pocket to pull out your D.D.D.

“I’ll call him, okay?”

You waited for the phone to ring once before you put it on speaker. Solomon picked up in seconds. “MC, my adorable apprentice, what can I do for you?”

“What the fuck did you do to Barbatos?” you asked him aggressively.

“What do you mean?”

“Something’s wrong with him, and he said it’s your fault.” Technically, that was a bit of a jump considering the facts you had at hand, but it was a logical conclusion.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Let’s see, slightly glowing eyes and the sudden appearance of claws to start. And – if you don’t mind me adding, Barbatos – his tail looks bigger than before.”

“His tail . . .is bigger?”

“Longer. Thicker. Girthier. Do you need more adjectives?”

“Just his tail?”

“For fucks sake. I didn’t strip him down and give him a full body exam.”

Solomon hummed. “Anything else?”

“He sounds weird – like he has a lisp.” You glanced over at Barbatos, whose cheeks had grown pinker since the beginning of the call. He dropped his hand slowly and opened his mouth, revealing sharp teeth and a long, forked tongue that looked like his tail. A shiver shot down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath before adding, “that’s new.”

“What’s new?” Solomon asked, unable to disguise his intrigue.

“Sharp teeth and a forked tongue.”

You heard a breezy laugh on the other end of the line. “So, good news: I figured out what happened. I accidentally swapped the magical tea blend I made for Barbatos with the one I made for Asmodeus. Oops.”

“Oops?” You sighed while Barbatos let out a low, guttural growl.

“Asmo asked me for a tea to enhance some of his more demonic features for a photoshoot. It seems Barbatos got Asmo’s tea, so Asmo – oh, speak of the devil. He’s calling.”

“Add him to our call.” You looked over at Barbatos, wishing you could apologize for Solomon’s behavior silently.

“What gives, Solomon? Your tea was a total flop. I tested it as soon as I got up this morning. I wanted to check out my enhanced demon features before the shoot tomorrow – maybe indulge in them a bit on my own. Nothing has happened. You promised quick results. I’m still my same, gorgeous self, and all your stupid potion did was give me the urge to organize all of my make-up and tidy half of my closet. I was really depending on you to come through for me here.” Asmo complained, clearly annoyed by Solomon’s failure.

“You basically made Adderall tea for Barbatos?” you asked, staring between Barbatos and your phone.

“Barbatos?” Asmo questioned. “Also, hey, MC~! Are you calling to yell at Solomon, too?”

“Pretty much, yeah.” You nodded.

“Can I speak?” Solomon added quickly, coming to his own defense since no one else was going to. “First, Barbatos asked for something to soothe him and enhance productivity so he could make good use of his day without Diavolo. Second, we had a little mix up, Asmo –”

“ – we?” you interrupted.

“Okay, I had a mix up. You have the blend I made for Barbatos. Barbatos took some of yours. MC is with him now.”

“Ooh. Enhanced demon form Barbatos sounds sexy. Does he look sexy, MC?” Asmo cooed.

“Focus, Asmo,” you responded, too embarrassed to admit the truth. Well, the truth other than that Solomon clearly sucked at making magical Adderall.

“Asmo. I have plenty of the magical blend I made for you left over. I’ll bring it by in a bit, alright? Will that resolve everything on your end?” Solomon’s voice sounded sweet, but there was a grave calmness to it.

“Yes.”

“Then hang up and wait for me, please.” Asmo did as Solomon asked, leaving the sorcerer to clean up the rest of his mess. “As for you and Barbatos, MC, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do to reverse the effects. Depending on how much he drank, it should wear off anywhere within a few minutes to a full day. Until then, I suggest you leave Barbatos alone. All of his demonic senses are heightened – that includes his urges. He may be dangerous to be around until the effects clear up.”

You looked at Barbatos. His glowing eyes were wide and damp, and his gaze hadn’t left you once during the entire call; even when you looked away, you could feel him staring. His knuckles were white from gripping his tail so tightly. He was even trembling slightly. “No. I’m sorry. I can’t do that. He looks miserable like this. I’m not leaving him. It’ll be fine, just trust me.”

“MC.” Solomon wanted to warn you against it again, but there was no use in arguing with you. “Be careful and call me if you need me.”

“Alright, and Solomon? Learn how to label your shit.” You said it sweetly, but he knew you were livid.

“Sorry! Don’t be mad.”

You hung up the phone and returned your attention to Barbatos. He backed away, pressing his shoulders flush against the wall, as you approached him. It was hard to believe that this was a more demonic version of Barbatos. He seemed so timid and scared. Slowly, you reached your hand out to smooth his hair down. His low growl echoed off the walls like there was thunder muffled inside his chest.

Barbatos gulped and opened his mouth to speak, showing you a glimpse of those magic-sharpened teeth and that tongue – now forked and dyed black and aqua. Overcome by a sudden shyness about his new state, Barbatos covered his mouth again to speak. His breath was unsteady, and his words were quiet. “You should go.”

“But you look miserable. Isn’t there something I can do to help?”

Barbatos dropped his hand, and his gaze followed, landing on the floor. “Help? Please don’t tempt me when I’m like this. I’ve been holding back since you walked into that door – since I first caught your scent from down the hall, if I’m honest.”

You inched closer, testing the waters – testing his control before you cupped his cheeks in your hands and searched his face. When you finally caught his gaze, you realized up-close how unusually terrified he was. You’d never seen him like this, and it only made you want to protect him more – to soothe the fear this spell had pulled from him. Barbatos bit his lip, and for a second you worried he might draw blood, but he didn’t.

“Please,” Barbatos begged with a shaky exhale. You rubbed his cheek with your thumb, hoping to ease his mind. “Don’t touch me any further. I’ll only want more. I won’t be able to stop myself.”

Greed. That was his innate sin. You knew that, and it had never been a concern – even when he lost control. There was always a spark of fear – worry on the lighter days – in his eyes when you caused his composure to faulter. It flashed like lightning. Sometimes, you had to wonder if you had seen anything at all or if your eyes – if his eyes – were playing tricks on you.

The love Barbatos offered was a love that said, “I would like to cherish you always. I will treat you sweetly, and if I must be rough, it will be thoughtful and restrained.” He had never pushed your limits – never even toed the line – unless you asked him to. Now, he was warning you that he did not know his own limits. A dark, selfish, possessive need in him threatened to take everything you would offer him and then some. Barbatos was pleading with you to turn him down, to not indulge him. This was your last chance, and you knew it. All his willpower, reduced into one last-ditch effort to dissuade your trust in him – a final, feeble, “please.”

When you brought your lips to his, it was over. Until that potion wore off, he could indulge his greed until he was sick and bursting with sin; until every ounce of it had spilled over into you, you had committed to take it.

Barbatos wasted no time deepening the kiss. His forked tongue slithered into your mouth, wet and oddly cool compared to the heat of his breath. It wasn’t unpleasant; in fact, you felt a slight shame in how erotic you found this strange new sensation. His tongue entwined with yours like it had never done before. Barbatos also found himself aroused by his new abilities – even more so when you moaned for him. Eager to explore further, Barbatos plunged his tongue deeper down your throat until you could barely breathe. You felt seconds – millimeters – away from gagging on him and pressed against his chest, trying to break the kiss.

Barbatos pulled away, allowing your lungs to recover, but the desperation on his face was worse than ever. Panting and ravenous, he spoke in half-growls: “More. I need more.”

His impatience displayed itself in the way he stripped you of your clothes – reckless with buttons and balling the fabric up tightly in his hands. All the restraint he had went towards refraining from tearing your clothes to shreds. He needed access to more of your body, and with every bit of skin he revealed, Barbatos licked, sucked, and bit part of your exposed flesh.

The feeling of his cool tongue gliding up your forearm made you shiver. Barbatos sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder, breaking the skin and sending a tingling pain through your body. He soothed it by running his soft tongue over the bite mark in slow circles before he licked a trail up your neck, paving a path for him to place hickeys along. Time was lost to you between Barbatos sucking your neck and pawing at your naked body. The sensation of his claws gently scraping along your lower back left you arching into him.

When Barbatos was satisfied with his assault on your neck, he dropped to your chest, marking you and teasing your nipples between the prongs of his tongue. For someone who claimed to be unable to control himself, he sure was taking his sweet time building up your pleasure. If he hadn’t dipped between your legs when he did, you might have found yourself reduced to begging for him.

Barbatos took in the sight of how aroused he had gotten you. His breathing was labored, causing his chest and shoulders to heave. He had waited long enough. You felt his tail wrap around your thigh and pull you closer until you were right in front of his face. His warm breath primed your body for that first, slow, tender lick. Followed by another. Then, one more before his tongue was swirling circles around you. He sucked and licked you ravenously, moaning repeatedly into your body. Barbatos’s moaning was peppered with the occasional growl – reminding you, lest the lust caused you to forget, that Barbatos was an untethered beast.

He clawed up your thighs in the same ravenous manner. Claws sank into the flesh of your ass and thighs, scratching you and pulling you back against him whenever you had squirmed too far away for his liking. You couldn’t escape the constant barrage of stimulation and pleasure. Barbatos refused to stop until he pulled an orgasm out of you. Even then, he overstimulated your sensitive skin with a few teasing licks, cleaning up some of the mess he had made of you. Your knees buckled, but Barbatos got to his feet and pulled you close to support you.

You had not even caught your breath nor come down from your high before Barbatos was kissing you again. He slipped his cum-stained tongue back down your throat, ensuring that you tasted yourself. A low growl rumbled deep in Barbatos’s chest that shook you to your core. The storm had not passed. You weren’t even in the eye of it yet.

As Barbatos continued to kiss you, the familiar sensation of his tail wrapping around your thigh caught your attention. This time, instead of pulling you close, he pulled your legs apart. Had he not been holding you tight, you would have stumbled with the sudden jolt. The silky tips of his forked-tendril-like tail teased between your legs in gentle alternating strokes, occasionally lingering to cup you for a few seconds before the pressure slipped away. Barbatos was building you up all over again. You gripped his shoulders, simultaneously trying to ground and support yourself.

Despite the cloud of lust disorienting him, Barbatos recognized the signs of your weakness and dragged you towards his bed. Even as he pulled you across the room, his tail refused to stop teasing you and preparing you for what was to come. Barbatos had no sooner finally stopped kissing you when your back hit his mattress with a soft thud. Staring up at him, you saw a distorted image of the demon you adored. Maybe it was the enhanced demonic features and those glowing green eyes, or maybe it was the look on his face that told you he was not quite the same Barbatos. His hunger for you had never been this strong – perhaps it would never be this primal and ferocious again. Repressing any fear or hesitation, you wanted to revel in his uninhibited lust.

Fortunately, Barbatos’s tail had a natural wetness to it that aided in the insertion. He lacked the clarity and patience to apply lube before the tips of his tail squirmed into your body. Barbatos delighted in the way your face contorted in pleasure – how you bit your lip to hold back a moan. The prongs of his tail felt cool and soft as they stretched you out, applying pressure to the most sensitive places inside of you. You writhed under him, but it wasn’t enough. He needed to touch you more.

Barbatos scratched his claws gently down your ribs and towards your navel. He fucked deeper into you with his tail and applied slight pressure to your pelvis with his palm, stretching his fingers out above your stomach. Those claws loomed threateningly above your skin while his tail pumped in and out of you. You thought his tail had looked bigger than before, but now you could feel just how much thicker he was. However, you only had a few seconds to dwell on the size before the threat of claws came to fruition and dug into your stomach. The outermost layer of skin split for him, and five distinct pink marks appeared on your stomach; he nearly drew blood. You whined at the pain, but the way your back arched and your muscles tightened told Barbatos that you were in more pleasure than pain.

A brief flash of normalcy came when you heard Barbatos chuckle and saw his lips tug into a wicked smile. “Are you cumming again?”

The noises you were making as another wave of intense pleasure overtook you were the only response Barbatos needed. He was kind enough to slow the movements of his tail as you tried to bring yourself down. It wasn’t fair. Barbatos was making you feel incredible. You were supposed to be the one taking care of him, but there you were, stripped and writhing on your back. All the while, Barbatos was still fully clothed – barring the lack of his standard gloves which had already been removed prior to your arrival. You wanted to make him feel good too.

You reached out for his pants, trying to undo them so you could at least touch him, but Barbatos took hold of your hands and stopped you. “Please, let me focus on you for a bit longer. Please?”

There was no sweetness in his begging – only desperation. It was less of a plea and more of a demand. Refusal seemed off the table, even if you chose it, but you couldn’t. You could hardly refuse Barbatos when he said “please” under normal circumstances – and even less so when he stared at you with such wanton desire.

Barbatos entwined his fingers with yours and held your hands while he watched you come apart on his tail. The way you rolled your hips to get him to press the spot that left your mouth agape was so cute. If he had been gifted with more patience and less greed, Barbatos would have relished in the sight of you fucking yourself on his tail and using him – especially in the exhausted, fucked-out state you were in. Did you realize how flushed you were? Could you feel how hot your skin had become? Were you aware that you had scarcely stopped whimpering and moaning for him in the last few minutes?

“You’re taking it so well,” Barbatos cooed. His affectionate gaze held your attention, even as he pulled another intense wave of pleasure from you. Something about the dim glow of his eyes captivated you. “You’re doing such a good job for me, but can you keep it up?”

Barbatos slid his tail half-way out of you as he dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed. He was trying to go back down on you, but with no opportunity to recover, you weren’t sure how much more you could take. You tugged his hair and stopped his lips and tongue from overstimulating you, earning a whine from him.

“Barbatos, I need you to fuck me now,” you demanded. You couldn’t take another round without at least making him cum once.

Barbatos savored that desperation in you – even if it was just a fraction of his own. He nuzzled your inner thigh playfully. “Just one more taste?”

“No.” You pulled his hair again and made him look at you. “I need it now.”

“Very well.” Barbatos pulled his tail out of you completely and got to his feet. For a second, the way he spoke was so calm that you believed the tea must have been wearing off. Those shining green eyes stayed fixed on your body as he removed his clothes, tossing them into a dark corner of the room. Perhaps the storm was showing signs of passing.

When Barbatos dropped his pants, you couldn’t keep your eyes off the bulge in his underwear and the damp stain, but he didn’t stay contained for long. He stripped fully, finally releasing his cock. He was so hard, and he dripped precum onto the floor. Your mouth watered. Well, if Solomon asked again, it wasn’t just Barbatos’s tail that was bigger than usual. However, you had already taken his tail; you could take this, too. You wanted it.

Your eyes glanced back up at Barbatos’s face as he aligned himself, rubbing his dick against your entrance. Those glowing eyes caught yours, stalling your breath. Even in the dim lighting, those eyes now seemed to be the darkest thing in the room. A low, satisfied growl escaped Barbatos – the last warning from a predator closing in on his prey. The storm was not over, you had merely found yourself in the eye of it for one brief, relenting moment.

He rocked his hips into you, relying on precum and the combined fluids from you and his tail to lubricate himself as he slowly pushed every inch he could get into you. You gasped. The sensation was so different from his tail – so much warmer, pulsating and throbbing inside of you. That initial slow thrust was for your benefit, but it was not intended to set his pace. Barbatos quickly picked up speed, transitioning into rapid, shallow thrusts that repeatedly rubbed against your walls. Still, he seemed to be focusing on maximizing your pleasure.

“I need more,” Barbatos warned you, but you were drowning in too much pleasure, moaning and panting beneath him, to register his warning.

Instead, you whimpered at the shock of Barbatos slipping his tail inside of you. The forked ends swirled around Barbatos’s cock as he continued fucking you, stimulating you both at the same time. It felt like thick, cool, squirming ridges around a hot, throbbing core. Not even an advanced toy could do this to you. But it wasn’t enough for him. Barbatos reached down between your legs to stimulate you further – somehow lucid enough to take care not to scratch you. His touch was light and gentle, contrasting his other insatiable actions, and making your head spin. It was all too much for you. You came again, tightening around Barbatos as you did. He kept fucking you through it.

A pleased moan escaped Barbatos, signaling that he was close. His hands slid up your body slowly, and then, without warning, he clawed down your sides and grabbed your hips. A stinging sensation immediately followed. He gripped your hips so firmly that his claws broke the skin as he forced himself so deep into you that it almost ached. Barbatos gave you a few more deep thrusts before he bottomed out and held you in place. He pumped his cum into the deepest parts of you, filling you up.

Barbatos lolled his head back with a sigh and a smirk. His chest heaved. It took you squirming against his pelvis for Barbatos to realize that he was still holding your hips up against him. He slid his cock out of you, released his tail’s grip around himself, and gently laid you back down.

You looked so blissful and exhausted, but Barbatos had just gotten started. Simply looking at your flushed face and heaving chest was making him hard again. He caressed your cheek; some of the blood he had drawn from clawing at your hips smeared onto your skin. Barbatos leaned down and licked up the mess. When your cheek was clean once more, Barbatos whispered into your ear, “I’m so sorry, lovely. I’m not done. Do I have your permission to keep going?”

His words floated around your hazy mind. You smiled at him affectionately with your eyes half-lidded and reached up to stroke his cheek. Exhaustion was overcoming you. “Yes. Take whatever you need until you feel better.”

“Even if you fall asleep?” Barbatos asked with some of the timidness from earlier.

“Even if I pass out. Even if it hurts. Even if I cry. Be as greedy as you have to be with me.” Maybe you were cum-drunk. Or maybe you just wanted to make Barbatos feel better. Either way, you resigned yourself to being used for the next few minutes or hours or days.

“Thank you, my love.” Barbatos kissed your cheek sweetly.

You watched the dim glow of his eyes dreamily, focusing on them until the rest of the room began to disappear. With your body spent, all you could do was whimper as you felt Barbatos enter you again. Even the pleasure began to dull as you let yourself slip further into the haze. His deep growls and panting were the last thing you heard as your mind fell silent.

Your last thought before a sweet dream swept over you was that, without a doubt, Barbatos would be a mix of grateful and apologetic when you woke up again.

In the morning, Barbatos would ensure you were hydrated, well-fed, and tended to. He would be an affectionate, doting butler for you. And then, someone would have a hefty price to pay.

A/N: I did not think this was going to end up so long, but please enjoy. I am worried I got a little too carried away here. . . but this was still the less deranged Barbatos monster kink idea. Anyway, requests are open and will be until the end of Nov. 5th. And I hope this one does something for some of you.

[aquaticflames]

Cal may have started off shy, but Obi-wan was pretty sure that was purely based on walking in to find his thesis advisor face down on his desk.

short panel strip for @shortcuts-make-long-delays's cwrb fic 'sourdough: flour, water, and starting over' which, as well as being a hilariously clever and super adorable codywan piece, has this mentorship scene between Cal & Obi-Wan that made me positively melt.

[collophora]

This fic is leaving rent free in my head since a week so go read it: Haunting by @iiidunno : https://archiveofourown.org/works/54832273/chapters/138984958 [Edit] ok I put half a BG 'cause really It was bothering me

[frownyalfred]

I know I’ve written before about ideas for angsty “Bruce is Clark’s fixer” stories before, but also the cracky possibilities are endless.

Clark keeps shattering glasses at restaurants and picking up things he absolutely shouldn’t be able, and it’s only through the power of 17+ generations of Wayne breeding for charisma, Bruce’s flawless ability to lie about literally anything on the fly, and the fact that both of them are ridiculously attractive that keeps anyone from truly thinking any of those “accidents” through.

“My friend gets unlucky around glassware,” Bruce says, smiling, “You understand, of course.”

Confused waiter staring at 17 shattered water glasses while Clark hides his head in his hands: “Um….yeah, whatever man.”