#Lucid Shield

[nachtbus]

Tracklist:

Mute Swan - Sedative Sun Animal Ghosts - You Lucid Express - Prime of Pride Guitar - House Full Of Time Luster - In My Head Flyying Colours - This One Zoon - Bleached Wavves Infinity Girl - But I’m Slow Ringo Deathstarr - Day Dreamy Death In Vegas - Girls Parannoul - 아날로그 센티멘탈리즘 ねこぼーろ - 嘘と絵画 Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas

[thecupidwitch]

Herb's Properties part 2

Apple: Garden magic, love, healing and wisdom, vanity, marriage and beauty.

Agrimony: Shielding and hex-breaking, aids sleep, brings luck towards you and is powerful in spell reversal.

Allspice: Money, luck, healing, love

Benzoin: Purification, prosperity, helps to soothe tension by dispelling anger and lessening irritability, de stressing, helps with depression, concentration, astral projection

Catnip: love, luck, happiness, beauty.

Cardamom: Lust, love, and fidelity. Sweetens the personality

Cumin: Fidelity, protection, exorcism.

Damiana: Love, lust, lucid dreaming, astral projection

Elder Tree: Sleep, releasing enchantments, protection against negativity, banishing.

Ginseng: Love, beauty, healing and lust.

Hibiscus: Love, lust, dreams, divination.

Hawthorn: Change, rebirth, protection, emotional healing, and happiness in relationships

Lemon Balm: Love, fertility, anti-depressant, and soothing emotional pain

Mandrake: Strengthens spells, protection, fertility, and courage

Nettle: Courage, breaking curses, healing, protection, crossing thresholds, and renewal

Patchouli: Connecting with spirits, attracting money, increasing fertility, love, and seduction

Rue: Protection, health, clarity, and purification

Sage: Longevity, wisdom, protection, dispels negative energy

St. John’s Wort: Preventing colds and fevers, banishing, protecting against hexes, prophetic dreams, and increasing courage

Witch Hazel: Protection, chastity, easing grief over a lost love, and warding off evil[

Yarrow: Healing, divination, love, promotes courage and confidence

Tip jar Herb's Properties Part1

[harmonysanreads]

OMG could you just imagine how smug wanderer will be if he gets to lay on darlings lap? A dream come true for him, as for the other party members.... well-

It's almost comical to compare Wanderer's past deeds to the shenanigans he's pulling at present. Make no mistake, he's completely lucid of his actions and how unbefitting it should be for him to do them. But there's the matter of you, with your annoyingly endearing kindness that attracts all sorts of malicious attention. He can't quite complain about it either because it saved him as well and even though Nahida emphasized how relationships aren't about balancing the books — his mind convinces him that that's why he's doing all of these. But in truth, he leans into that perception only because it suppresses the smidgen of guilt that gnaws at him (ew). Wanderer knows there's a boundary and he treads carefully around it. In any case, as long as he's cautious, he knows you'll always be his shield.

Kaveh is so flabbergasted, astonished and dumbfounded at the uncensored audacity of that brat that he chokes halfway through his sip of the wine — but even if the beverage wasn't in his hand, he's sure he would've choked on his breath anyway. To this day he's still dreaming about holding your hand and here's Wanderer, showing him the thumbs down while soaking in the comfort of your lap! His shock gradually fades as he wonders if he needs to pretend to be sick or something to get that treatment. But, knowing his luck he's sure it'd backfire as well. So he just seethes in his seat, for now.

Alhaitham doesn't even give the impression that he's looking at the fiasco — except he is by the rim of his book, more keenly than the rest present at that. To be even more honest, his eyes have never left you since the moment he entered the tavern so, he's acutely aware of every moment that lead to this... display. While the rest watch in disbelief, he's taking mental notes and running various simulations in his mind to picture the perfect scenario where he will instead be in the position of Wanderer. Or at least, doing so distracts him from succumbing to the less than pleasant feelings that arise at the sight.

Tighnari is exasperated. Yes, no dramatic response, just exasperation at its purest form. He's a busy person and it's only because of you that he's made his visits to Sumeru city regular. He does not have the time or energy to tolerate such incidents every single time. He's tried to convince you that the harmlessness of Wanderer is faux and just an act, but for whatever reason, your trust in the boy seems to be resolute. So he can do nothing but bear witness to these stunts with increasing audacity and that makes him want to tear his hair out at this point. Just you wait, he will find a way to expose the brat one day.

Of everything Cyno was expecting to see this evening, this was not at all in that list. He's not unaware of how touchy Wanderer tries to get each time he and the others are in the vicinity. A seasoned Matra's senses are far sharper than ordinary folk and Cyno is the only one that gets the message of this gesture immediately. He knows it's a warning and a claim. He can tell that there's something off about Wanderer and no, it isn't his act of being a goody-two-shoes. This stunt further justifies his suspicions and paired with the strength he displayed at the last round of the InterDarshan Championship — Cyno has made up his mind. He will challenge Wanderer to a duel right then and there, have fun settling this dispute.

[xxkissesforchanniexx]

𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐞 𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈

𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐋𝐮𝐬𝐭: 𝐑𝐞𝐝 𝐋𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

𝐀𝐜𝐭 𝐈𝐈

Pairing: demon!chan x fem!reader x demon!hyunjin Genre: SMUT NOTHING BUT IT aside from the tiny bit of plot Word count: 6.2k Warnings: Insomnia, lucid dreaming, demon!skz, sleep paralysis, possessive chan, jealous channie, jealous hyunjinnie, sin of pride Chan, sin of lust hyunjin, mentions of angel felix, aphrodisiacs kinda, overstimulation, dacryphilia, p in v, oral fem receiving, fingering, unprotected sex USE PROTECTION. Minho is very "scary", Changbin and Jeongin mentioned at the end >.> hyunjin is kind of a dick, i think that's all??

A/N: >.> I kinda went a little crazy... I hope y'all like it

Virtues forgotten dance in the mind. They linger on sleepless nights, bathing the purest rooms in red light as if it were iron to rust. Of humility and purity, in the lord we trust.

You stared around your room, putting down your phone and looking at your bedside clock. 2:47 AM it read. You weren't getting sleep tonight. Again.

You sighed and rolled over, pulling the blankets up over your head, shut the world out and sleep. Sleep did claim you after about ten minutes but it was a restless slumber, one that wouldn't do much to help you in the morning. It was a miracle you hadn't been laid off from work yet, always sleeping, always late, your work always looking like you didn't try.

You opened your eyes and looked around, you were no longer in your room, but a dark hallway, you walked down it staring at the walls. Who in their right mind put wood flooring for walls? Bright light was on your left and you shielded your eyes. What kind of moron puts lights in the w-

You stumbled cutting off your train of thought. You'd bumped your toe on something, your winced and rubbed your toe, looking back for what you hit.. a doorknob.

You stood, looking down. The person who built this place wasn't crazy, you were walking on walls like a spider almost.

You started walking again and then you heard a crackling surge of electricity before the light beside you burst. You shrieked in fear and jumped looking back as all the lights behind you shattered.

And then you saw it.

You saw them.

A pair of bright green eyes stared at you in the darkness.

You held your breath and stayed still. Maybe it couldn't see you.

Whatever had those eyes lunged for you. Quickly slimming the distance between you and it. You took off running the other way, as it grew closer and closer, light after light shattering before you could make out what it was.

You stepped on a door that was ajar and fell into the room, screaming as it dove in after you, the lights exploding, plunging you into darkness the only light its green eyes locked on you, growing closer and closer.

Hands wrapped around your throat as it finally closed the distance between you and you clawed at it in defense of yourself. Your nails throbbed in pain as they snagged on something and you tried to cry out.

As your vision blurred you saw a burst of light and the thing fell off you, you scrambled away and stepped out an open window in the darkness. Waking up with a scream.

You looked at your clock. it read 4:01 AM.

"You look rough." Your friend, Jaehwa said in the breakroom at work that day. "How many cups of coffee have you had?"

You racked your brain for a moment. "7-"

"That's enough." Soojin, your other friend took the cup from you. "Y/n. How long are you going to keep living like this?"

"Like what?" You look at your friends.

Jaehwa sighed. "Like you're being haunted by something."

You made a face.

"Maybe you should take a break," Soojin suggested. "Go out for drinks? Catch a movie? Stay home and sleep?"

You nodded. "I'll ask for time off next week I guess."

"You really need it." Jaehwa said, shaking his head.

"I'm going off next week so you might not be able to." A woman said behind you, stirring her coffee, "Someone's gotta write the story."

You returned to your desk, practically green with envy, and got back to work on your current article for the paper. But your fingers flying swiftly across your keyboard came to a halt. Your thought fogged. You felt like something was staring at you.

You felt vulnerable... Your breath picked up the pace and your eyes darted around for a moment. Then you saw it in the corner of your vision... A man with short, dark hair and piercing green eyes looking at you.

You almost shrieked.

Almost.

Instead, you sighed and threw paper over the divider between your cubicle and your other friend, Jake's.

"What was that for?!" he grumbled.

"Nothing." You shrugged feeling a bit safer now that there was someone else looking at you.

"You know.." The woman to your right leaned over and whispered very loudly. "If you're so scared.."

She could tell...?

"Write an article about the paranormal.." She nodded, fixing her big framed glasses and moving back to her cubicle.

You didn't say anything for a long moment. "Yeah maybe."

You got immersed in reading some interview record about a singer's affair and possible divorce when a paper ball smacked the back of your head, and you were pulled from the website you were reading on.

"Working yourself tired isn't any more healthy than overdosing on caffeine." Soojin grabbed you. "We're going for drinks, come with us."

"Like that's any more healthy." You rolled your eyes but let her drag you out.

In Jaehwa's car, another coworker, Joohyeong was singing loudly to the radio with Soojin.

"AH!" Jaehwa finally snapped and turned off the radio.

"Hey!" Joohyeong huffed.

"Turn it back on." Soojin reached to the front to turn it on and Jaehwa smacked hr and Joohyeong's hands away, only semi-paying attention to the road.

"Jae-" You started, as he came to an intersection.

"Lemme listen to the damn radio!" Joohyeong snapped.

"I will not listen to your horrendous voice." Jaehwa said.

The light at the intersection turned red.

"You're no fun!" Soojin grumbled as she reached from the back over the console for the radio.

The blare of a horn and the glaring light to your left made you scream. "Jaehwa!"

He whipped his head around and just as you thought you were dead the other car screeched to a halt, bumping the car.

You stared in shock for a moment...

"It's a miracle." Soojin breathed as the other driver reversed.

Jaehwa sighed. "Food?"

You opened your mouth to speak.

"Enjoy life now, worry about insurance later." He continued again and you relaxed into your seat.

You got to a small pizza place and looked around as Jaehwa ordered then sat to call his insurance company about the small dent in his car door. You closed your eyes for a brief moment trying to catch up on your thoughts, the blank darkness didn't last long. You saw a hallway a man sat in a chair, surrounded by red yarn. Like a spiderweb.

You stared at him for a moment and he tilted his head before pointing behind you. You turned and gasped as a man with light brown hair and furious red eyes raised a power drill and stared at you.

You took off running to the man in the string chamber down the hall but the man behind you was faster pouncing on you as you screamed. You hissed in pain as you landed awkwardly on your wrist. He turned you over and aimed to drive the revving power drill through your eye.

"Minho.." A sleepy voice said.

The man on top of you looked over his shoulder and you shoved him and sprinted. You crashed through the string and someone grabbed you and slammed you against the wall with such force it broke and you fell into darkness.

You opened your eyes with a gasp and grabbed your wrist, there was a dull aching there, Jaehwa, Joohyeong, and Soojin stared at you. You got up before any of them could speak and ran out of the restaurant, sprinting down the street and bumping into a very shady-looking man.

"Woah there." He grabbed your shoulders. "Calm down."

You tried to pull away. "I'm sorry-"

"I'm serious calm down, what's wrong?" He squeezed you a bit tighter and you tensed.

"Please let go of me." You tried to pull away.

"Where are you headed? Maybe I can take you there?"

"Please just let go." You pulled free and shoved him, backing up.

His eyes narrowed. "This is what I get for trying to help a senseless bitch." He grabbed for you and you put your arms up in defense of yourself. He gripped your face roughly almost choking you. "Stop being such a crybaby."

"Don't touch me!" You thrashed and tried to get away but he dragged you.

"You think you're so special, eh?!" He raised a hand to hit you.

You braced yourself for a blow... that.. never came. You opened your eyes and saw a man with dark hair and piercing eyes. A glint of violet in them making your heart race. The dark-haired man held your assailant's wrist.

"What?" Your attack fired at the man. "This your whore?" He shook your shoulder roughly.

"Release her." The man said.

"If I don't? You'll hit me, pretty boy?!"

The man tilted his head slightly. "You're quite cocky... Good for me."

Your eyes widened as his grip on the other man's wrist visibly tightened until you heard cracking. Your assailant screamed and crumbled to his knees.

"You litt-" he started.

"You don't fear death... do you?" The dark-haired man leaned down.

Your attacker's eyes widened and then he screamed in terror.

You stumbled back, looking between your attacker and the man.

The man finally released the writhing criminal and looked up, eyes meeting yours.

You held your breath for a brief second before you took off running.

By the time you got to bed, you were exhausted. Every muscle in your body ached and your head pounded. The moment you were situated your eyes drifted shut quickly. You opened them to a long dark hallway, the few lights that illuminated it were red. Your eyes widened slightly as you realized you weren't walking on the walls.

As you walked you noticed how quiet the place was, you could hear your own feet padding softly on the wood floor. You peeked into a room, seeing nothing but pitch black, then a blaring white light came on, a chandelier of circular lights and with strange images on the walls, you walked in and looked around the room for a moment before the lights in the hallway burst. You froze, staring at the door like a deer in headlights. And there he stood. The man who'd saved you earlier, albeit a bit different.

His hair was straighter a soft gingery color, and he wore all white. You could've said it wasn't him but there was the unmistakable glint of violet in his eye.

He tilted his head, staring at you. "You shouldn't be here."

You held your breath for a moment.

"You did a lot of screaming earlier. It's a little too quiet now don't you think?" He stepped into the room, his muscles flexed as he dragged the chains in after him, and the door slammed shut. "Well, aren't you going to thank your savior?"

"Savior..." You stared up at him. "What even are you, where am I-"

He reached out and hesitated. "Seungmin and Minho said the angel lingers around you.." he leaned in close, breath against your ear. "Where is he?"

"I don't know who you're talking about." You backed up, tensing as you felt a wall behind you.

"Godforsaken cun-" He looked back at you, stopping himself. "You haven't seen him yet?"

"I don't even know who you're talking about." You started rambling. "I swear I've never seen any angel or anything. I don't even know how I'm here or why. I-" You shrieked as his hand slammed against the wall beside your head.

"Answer the question you're asked." he said, eyes narrowing.

"No... I haven't seen him." You swallowed.

"Good." He grabbed your face gently, thumb rubbing over something.

You made a face.

"That man left a bruise.." he muttered.

"Oh- I-"

He rubbed the mark gently and smiled. "All gone."

You pulled away and cupped the side of your face, rubbing your jaw slightly. "Thank you..."

He raised a brow, smiling gently at you.

"For saving me." You shrank slightly under his gaze. Fear. You should feel fear. You should cower at whatever this man was but no, as he leaned closer your heart raced not out of utter terror. But something else..

His lips met yours gently. You stiffened for a brief moment before relaxing as his hand moved to cup your face, before his fingers entangled in your hair and he forced your body impossibly closer, tongue prodding for entry to your mouth and you granted him it. His full being shrouding your mind in dark clouds as he fogged your senses. His lips broke away from yours and kissed your jaw gently before you felt something sharp rake across your neck.

Your eyes widened but he sank his fangs in. You gasped. Was he a blood sucker? A vampire? EW!

He pulled away slowly and you grabbed your neck the area throbbed.

"What did you-" You started.

"Before anything else." His voice was in your head and you stared in fear. "You are mine."

You woke with a gasp and grabbed your neck. The area throbbing. You turned on your lamp and looked at yourself in the mirror, eyes going wide at the sight of a cross seated on a bruise on your neck.

You tried hiding the mark on your neck the following day with makeup. After you were positive it was hidden you went to work, only to be greeted by a "Y/N GOT A TATTOO!?"

You cringed. "Yeah..." What the fuck... I covered it. I know I covered it.

"She must've gone to the liquor store without us." Joohyeong sighed. "Got drunk and made a mistake."

"Yeah." You lied through your teeth as you sat.

"You know..." The woman in the cubicle beside you said, "It's not a bad look..."

You looked at her. "Thanks." You smiled tightly and turned to your work.

After an hour of diligent work, you went to the break room. You got hot water in a mug, about to make yourself a cup of instant coffee when you remembered what Soojin said and you made grabs for the tea instead.

As you opened the cabinet, a bit roughly, you reached in for the tea bag and the cabinet door swung back to your hand you were about to pull back to try and rescue your hand from the impending blow but the door stopped.

You stared at it for a moment, poking it. The door swung back gently. Your brows furrowed and you got the tea and turned to the mug, you opened the tea bag and set it into the water. When you moved to grab the cup, your hand bumped the counter and you retracted it in pain just as the scalding hot tea splashed onto the counter.

You blinked slowly then the memory hit you like a freight train. "Seungmin and Minho said the angel lingers around you.."

"Talk about a guardian angel." You hummed and cleaned up, grabbing the now much cooler mug and going to your desk.

Hyunjin made a face. Here I am protecting you and you compare me to that angel bastard...

You went home and stared at the mirror. The mark on your neck was very noticeable even if you covered it in makeup it seemed to resurface on your skin. You got in bed and stared at the ceiling. What if you ended up there again... Your eyes drifted shut after a while and for the first time in a long time, you dreamed a good dream. You were lying in a flower field, butterflies fluttering around under the sun as birds sang.

You turned and smiled at a blonde haired man next to you, his innocent smile filling you with such warmth as his lips moved. But you couldn't hear him. You looked back at the sky and reached your hand up.

The man beside you grabbed you gently, brows furrowing as he stared at you... at your neck and his eyes flicked up and met yours. He reached and pressed his hand to it pulling away with a pained expression.

Then you fell through the ground and everything became loud. You fell through the darkness grabbing for something, anything. Why weren't you waking up, usually you woke up, what was wrong?! You did grab something, you stared at the man. The one who'd marked you.

"You-" You started but he pulled you up with such force you stumbled as you landed, falling into his chest.

"Didn't I tell you you're mine?" He looked down at you.

You pulled back and pointed a finger at him. "I don't even know you! I don't know what you did to me but undo it!"

He blinked and raised a brow. "Did the angel give you the mouth to speak to me like that?"

"What angel!?" You shouted.

He grabbed you and pulled a flower from your hair. "You saw him."

You opened your mouth then closed it. "Who? Who are you? What is this!?"

He sighed and sat at a big desk, staring at you from his leather chair. "Come here."

You stayed where you were.

"I said 'Come here.'" He said lowly.

You walked to him. "What the fuck-" You hadn't wanted to move.

He hummed softly and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you into his lap. "I wouldn't get too angry, you might wake Minho." He rubbed your thigh and gave it a soft squeeze.

"That doesn't tell me who you are." You stared at him.

"My name is Chan. I am as kind as you will ever get here." He said, moving a finger and opening a book on the desk "You're a very proud woman. Easily scared but proud."

You stared at him. "What are you?"

"Now you're asking the right questions." He smiled at you, squeezing your side gently. "I am the oldest of 8 brothers, Chan, sin of pride. At your service."

You blinked slowly. "I'm dreaming."

"Are you?" A soft voice said in your ear.

You jumped and Chan held you tighter.

"Hyunjin." he turned to the long haired man. "Don't scare her."

Hyunjin stared at you. "I'll do more than that." He smirked and turned to Chan's shelf. "She looks cute scared."

"Excuse me?!" You huffed loudly.

"Chan you see she's bound to get killed." Hyunjin hummed. "Let me have her."

Chan had a blank expression. "Who's going to kill her?"

"Minho is going to find her with how often she's showing us her rage. Just imagine how he'd tear her to pieces or feed her to the dogs."

"Hyunjin!" Chan shouted.

You stiffened slightly in fear, a man stood at the door. The man who had the power drill, whose eyes were an enraged red color.

"Minho." Chan said, looking at him.

You held your breath for a moment. The moment didn't last long as a trident spiraled straight at Hyunjin who shrieked as you covered your eyes, telling yourself it was a dream.

It's all a dream.

You woke up with a start, eyes flicking around in fear.

Sleep didn't come to you much after that. It wasn't that you ever fell asleep, you were too scared. At a company dinner later that week you met Juwon, he was very nice and seemed to understand your sleep problems.

"I know it's really unconventional, but have you tried running around your house? It's very tiring."

You giggled. "No, I haven't, I'll think about it though."

Juwon invited you out for drinks and he was a bit cute, but somewhere between getting shit-faced and falling asleep, you ended up in his bed. Of course, you got knocked out right after but the feeling of being well rested despite the soreness between your legs the next morning put a pep in your step the next day. Friday. Finally...

"That wasn't very nice of you." A voice whispered into your ear as you sipped your coffee in the break room.

You jumped, turning to see none other than Hyunjin, poking at the coffee machine. "How are you-"

"Shh." he smiled, "They might think you're crazy."

You pursed your lips as he leaned in close.

"I didn't think Chan's little human was such a slut." He said lowly.

Your brows furrowed. "You aren't real-"

Hyunjin rested his hands on either side of the counter, caging you in. "I'm very real, pretty." He said, pink eyes seeming to glow.

"How-"

Hyunjin kissed you. Your eyes widened and he pulled away. "It's not fair that he claimed you first... You summoned me." Hyunjin muttered.

You stared at him. What did he mean you summoned him?

Hyunjin grabbed your waist and lifted you onto the counter. "What I'd do.. If I had you..." Hyunjin muttered. Your eyes met and he smiled gently, "I'd worship you.." His hand moved between your legs.

There was something about his eyes that wouldn't let you look away. Something about his beautiful rose-colored eyes. It had you in an anaconda's grip. Your hand flew to cover your mouth as you moaned, Hyunjin was rubbing gently at your clit. When had he gotten your pants off... How had you let him...

"I want to hear you, y/n.." he muttered, lifting his finger to examine it before slipping it back into you.

You moaned and almost hit your head on the cabinet, Hyunjin grabbed you and pulled you to him. You held onto his shoulders tightly, whimpering and gasping as his finger moved in and out of you quickly before he added a second and a third.

He pulled back and kissed you hard, tongue dancing with yours as his taste filled your mouth. He curled his fingers against your g-spot and you moaned into his mouth.

You felt the knot in your gut tightening, dangerously close to breaking. You moaned louder, tears pricking the corners of your eyes.

"Cum for me.." he breathed against your lips.

You came, hard, it was an earth shattering orgasm the made your head go blank for a moment. He pulled away with a satisfied smirk and you whimpered, legs weak, trying to hold yourself up against the counter. You looked up and Hyunjin was gone.

But as you collected yourself and left the break room a voice in your head told you, "You've already sold your soul."

You fell asleep the moment you hit your bed that night, this was exhausting, trying to stay up purely out of the fear that you might not see Chan or Hyunjin but one of the other monsters haunting your dreams was becoming unbearable. You looked at your phone, 10:46 PM. You set it down and tried to sleep, expecting to barely get any, as usual. Then you felt it. The room felt warmer somehow.

You opened your eyes to a room bathed in a soft yellow glow, you looked around for a moment. A small fireplace on one wall and a desk to the left. You turned around and saw a plush bed, you walked over to it, fingertips gently grazing the soft sheets.

"You had fun today.." Chan muttered in your ear.

You jumped in fear. "Don't do that!"

"Says the person in my room without my permission." he huffed. You noticed then, his chest was partially exposed, more than half the buttons undone.

"You act like I chose to appear here." You rolled your eyes.

"The same way you chose to sleep with that human," he said, expression blank.

You didn't speak for a moment. "I was drunk.." You wondered why he hadn't mentioned anything about what Hyunjin had done.

"You're worse than Changbin.." He muttered under his breath.

"How prideful are you really if it bothers you? You must feel threatened." You shot before you could stop yourself.

Chan turned slowly, staring at you. "Repeat that?"

You didn't.

Chan walked towards you, gaze fixated on yours as you stumbled, the backs of your knees hitting the bed lightly. You fell back onto the plush bedding and Chan stared at you, pupils dilating as he took you in.

"He made you feel good?" He raised a brow.

You blinked. "I-"

"Answer." He leaned down.

"Yes.." You breathed.

Chan bit his lip and sighed deeply. "What did I tell you..."

"I belong to you." Your heart was racing, curse this demon with his beautiful face.

"Are you proud of yourself?" He traced a line down your pajama clad body and stopped at your hip.

You didn't know how to answer that.

He tilted his head, "Cat got your tongue?"

You swallowed.

"Move up." He said.

You did as you were told and scurried up the bed, staring at Chan as he climbed onto the bed, it dipped with his weight as he grew closer to you. "Chan-" You started but he pounced on you, pinning you beneath his weight.

"Did I say you could talk?"

Your stomach flipped. "No.."

He groaned and kissed you, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth tasting you. You whimpered into the kiss and grabbed the wrist of the hand he had on your face. His tongue clashed with you and you relaxed, yielding to him.

He pulled away, eyes wide for a moment as if mesmerized before he moved down and dragged your pants and panties off your legs. "He touched you here?"

You stiffened as his finger brushed over your clit, he stared at your womanhood, eyes unmoving. You thought he had no reaction, nothing to say at all to you until your gaze drifted to his crotch and you saw the impressive tent in his pants. A dull ache thrummed between your thighs and you looked up, squeaking slightly at the sight of a smirk on his face.

"You like what you see?" He teased.

"You-"

His finger found your clit again and you moaned. "Who do you belong to?"

"You.." You whined.

"Good girl." He dragged his middle finger over your folds collecting your slick. He stared at it for a brief moment before slipping his finger into you.

You gasped, bucking up slightly.

He let out a breath before his thumb joined the slow drag of his finger.

"Chan!" You whined, trying to move your hips for a faster pace.

"No, no." He tutted, holding you down by the hip and plunging his finger into you only a bit faster.

You squirmed, shuffling your hips a bit to take more of his finger into you. "Please!"

"Please what?" Chan tilted his head, that smirk on his face getting to your head.

"Fuck me.." You relented softly.

"What was that?" Chan hummed, finger still dipping into you with languid thrusts.

"F-fuck me!" You said louder this time, eyes pleading.

"Oh... Poor girl..." Chan reached his other hand to caress your face, it was a gentle action as if that same hand hadn't left bruises on your hip from how tightly he held you.

"Please.." You begged.

Chan let his head fall back before rolling it back to look at you. "How could I refuse you.." He rasped before drawing out his finger and shoving in a second.

You wailed and bucked, he smirked as his thumb found its way to your nub, moving over it in quick swipes and figure 8 motions over and over as his fingers fucked into you faster.

Your cries bounced off the walls and you feared for a brief moment, you'd be heard. Thighs shaking, pussy walls fluttering, you could feel the coil tightening in your abdomen. Your moans and pleas grow in pitch at your impending orgasm.

And then he pulled away.

"WHY!?" You sobbed.

"Don't worry about the others," Chan muttered, staring at the slick on his fingers. "They'll get their turn." He licked his fingers, tasting you and moaning softly before pressing them to your lips.

Your cheeks went redder if that was possible.

"Open." He ordered.

You did and he pressed his fingers to your tongue. "Suck."

You got wetter as you followed his command, your disrupted orgasm building again when he wasn't even touching you.

He smiled and shrugged off his shirt before lifting your legs. You gasped as he dragged you partially onto his lap, your heat level with his plump lips. "Did that human bastard touch you like this?" He breathed against your cunt.

Your walls fluttered helplessly around nothing. "No-"

Chan raised a brow.

"N-No.." You stammered.

"Has anyone?" He questioned, gaze darkening.

"No." You panted.

"Good.." His tongue slipped out giving your pussy a tentative lick before releasing a shaky breath into your heat.

Your cunt throbbed and you whimpered. Chan licked a big stripe of your pussy, tongue pressing flat against your opening and thinning to flick at your clit. You moaned and squirmed but he held your hips tightly tongue pushing between your folds as his finger rubbed at your clit. You felt the knot in your belly tightening again, you moaned louder, begging him not to stop and as if on cue. He stopped.

"Please!" You sobbed.

He pulled back after a moment staring at your womanhood slick with your essence and his saliva before gathering saliva in his mouth and spitting on your hole.

You tensed slightly at the impact, he rubbed three fingers against your pussy before sinking them into you and curling them to find your g-spot.

Your body jerked and he smiled, whispering. "Found you."

You gasped as he pulled away letting your body fall back flat against the bed, he spread his fingers every now and then stretching you.

"You like that?" He asked as he leaned over you, fingering you roughly.

You gasped and moaned, "Please please!"

"You wanna cum?" He asked, fingers losing rhythm, every few moments slowing.

"Ye, I want to cum Chan please!" You sobbed.

"Ohh. My poor baby." Chan cooed as your pussy clenched tightly around his fingers. He pulled his fingers out and slapped your pussy, not hard enough to hurt, but just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up your spine.

"Please Chan." You sniffed, tears filling your eyes.

"Fuck..." Chan pushed his fingers into you, his thumb working at your clit. "Don't cry baby." He said, resisting the shit eating grin that wanted to come to his face.

You mewled as his pace became furious and uneven, and as the pressure built in your abdomen again you begged, "Channie please, please let me cum."

Chan's eyes met yours and he leaned down, "I'm going to make you cum... This is my pussy eh?"

"Yes, yours!" You moaned.

"Doesn't matter who's in it, you'll come back to me, because you belong to me!"

You nodded, brain fogging and pussy clenching.

"Say it." He grabbed your face. "Say it!"

"Yours I'm yours!" You screamed as the band in your belly finally broke and you came hard, eyes rolling back as you let out a broken sob, Chan kept fingering you, stretching your orgasm thin. "Too much, Chan oh god!"

"Too much yet your pussy is still taking my fingers so greedily." He taunted, fingers slowing to a deep drag between your walls.

You trembled, panting and trying to collect your mind.

"That human can't make you cum like that can he?" Chan asked, pulling his fingers out of you.

You shook your head, dazed.

"Glad you know, I might just ruin you for anyone else." Chan pulled off his pants and boxers, exposing his thick length.

Your eyes widened slightly. "I-" Of course, you'd stare, no wonder he'd spent so much time prepping you, he was big. Big enough to make your pussy clench on nothing while your stomach flipped. No wonder he was the sin of pride... he has something to be proud about alright.

Chan smirked and got between your legs, taking hold of his manhood and slapping it against your sensitive clit, huffing a small laugh at the whimper you let out. "Cute.." He breathed, rubbing his length against you. Then he lined himself up and sank into you, brows furrowing.

You gripped his muscular arms, nails digging into his perfect skin as he split you open, going in deeper and deeper, slowly. The stretch was a lot, you panted and bit your lip, Chan's eyes were fixated on the way your pussy gave way to his length, his tip met your cervix and you gasped. He held himself there for a moment, letting out a breathy moan before pulling out slowly, letting out a low almost growling moan. He lammed back into you, knocking the air from your lungs.

His body pinned yours to the bed, rutting into you over and over as your moans filled the room, the bed creaking under the force of his thrusts. His lips hovered over yours, breath mingling as your eyes met, your walls clenched at the intimacy of it. Chan smirked and kissed you, tongue roaming your mouth and tasting every part of you. A grunt or groan responding to your moans and whimpers.

He pulled back and grabbed your shirt, lifting it over your breasts, to watch the way they bounced with every thrust. Your hands reached down wandering helplessly, aimlessly as you tried to get your bearings. Chan clouded your senses, completely fogging your mind, all you could think about was how his dick stretched you, the way he bruised your cervix, fucking into you mercilessly.

"Feels good baby?" He asked, grabbing your arms and pulling you into his thrusts.

You couldn't make a sentence, brain was completely turned to mush by the man- demon above you.

"Look at you..." He grunted. "All dumb on my cock."

You couldn't keep your eyes open, it was too much, you felt the pressure building again and you clenched your fists in Chan's grip.

"Fuck-" Chan grunted and you opened your eyes looking down, you moaned as he pushed in completely, gaze glued to the way your tummy bulged slightly with every thrust. His free hand roamed over your tummy before pushing down gently.

You moaned loudly and your walls clamped down in an orgasm that knocked your brain off the rails. Your fluids coating his lower abdomen and cock. You let out a choked sob as Chan kept pounding into you.

"It's too much!" You moaned.

"Take it." He growled.

Your eyes widened as he pinned your hands above your head, not letting you recover from your orgasm as his cock hit you deep. "CHAN!"

"I'm going to put a baby in you," he drawled, almost drunk. "You want me to fuck my seed into you?"

You moaned and couldn't figure out how to respond.

"I'm going to fill you with my seed, make you a mommy." He grunted.

Your pussy clenched hard, and Chan came hard inside you, pelvis meeting yours as he released rope after rope of his seed into you, letting out a stifled whimper. His climax pushed you over the edge and you spasmed, tears clouding your vision.

Chan pulled out, releasing your wrists, and stared at you laying there, pussy clenching around nothing. He adored the sight of you ruined, by him... he wanted to do it again but he restrained himself. yet as your legs trembled he stared with wide eyes at your pussy leaking his seed.

You gasped as he flipped you onto your belly and lifted your ass, pushing your shoulders down, making you arch your back. He gave your butt a sharp slap then gripped the flesh. He took his cock in his hand and collected his cum on the tip. "Don't waste my seed.." he said lowly before shoving his cock into you, hips smacking against your ass.

You moaned into the pillow, gripping the sheets as he pushed his seed deep into you. Chan groaned at the way your backside jiggled from the impact of his pelvis, eyes watching intently as your pussy swallowed his cock. He leaned forward grabbing the headboard and grunting as he fucked into you harder. You came quickly, sobbing and babbling into the pillow from overstimulation. Chan kept rutting into you, you could feel every pulse and throb of his cock before he came inside you again. Groaning as your cunt squeezed the life out of him. He fell onto your teeth latching onto your shoulder to muffle the strangled whine that escaped his throat. You lay there panting and trembling as he pulled out.

You felt the bed dip as Chan moved, getting up to go somewhere. You hadn't been expecting much from a demon. The demon of pride no less, he didn't time for a human like y-

You felt the bed dip as Chan returned, cleaning you with a damp cloth. Your heart fluttered.

He left again for a moment before coming back and hugging you to his chest. "You're mine." He muttered against your hair.

You were quiet for a long moment before you whispered, "... before anything else."

When you woke up, your heart stopped. It was still dark out. But you couldn't move a muscle. And then you saw it in the corner of your vision... a pair of bright golden eyes staring at you. Closer to your door, the shadow of a shorter muscular looking man.

"Jeongin," a gravelly voice said, "I can't believe Chan kept this all for himself."

© 2024 xxkissesforchanniexx. DO NOT COPY OR TRANSLATE MY WORK

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 if your name is in blue i can't tag you very sorry Reply to this post if you want to be tagged for this series

𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐦

@asahisimpnation, @seolarsonlyloveisyou, @leeknowsnot @oddracha @juskz

@duinst @palindrome969 @armystay89

[sscarletvenus]

yes suguru's plans to exterminate a vast majority of humanity is undeniably evil, but to say that he is murderous from the very start, cruel for the sake of being so, or lacks compassion or any emotional nuance is a gross disservice to his character's writing.

suguru is a case study of a romantic idealist and self-sacrificial saviour whose absurdly rigid, quixotic ideals are shattered brutally by reality intervening. the intense hatred he has for humanity is born out of, is an inverse of, the intense love he once possessesed for it. this is also why even though satoru is portrayed as brash and selfish and arrogant in the hidden inventory arc, it is suguru that turns "villainous."

suguru places his faith in the goodness of humanity, believes the duty of shamans is to protect the weak, their existence solely hinged upon saving the lives of non-sorcerers, and for that he is disappointed so tremendously, betrayed to an extent that makes it impossible for him to recover his ideals and past self.

ultimately there are also more than one reasons why satoru doesn't become "evil" : 1) "protecting humanity" was never his cause to begin with. he hardly cared about preserving human life, as is evident in his intentions to kill the cultists who cheered on riko's death, and 2) he had someone shielding his inner self : suguru. for it is suguru that tells him the duty of shamans is to protect non-shamans and the weak, suguru who asks him to sympathise with riko, suguru who persuades him to not kill meaninglessly.

satoru is indeed attached to riko, as well. he is the one who decides not to hand riko over to tengen if she wishes to return home, and tries to enliven her last days as a lucid person. it would thus not surpass one’s expectations if satoru turned to villainy post riko's demise, since he never even liked non-shamans to begin with. and yet, he doesn't. suguru protects his heart, which is a part of why he is able to steadily process his grief and anguish over riko's death.

suguru doesn't have anyone to do that for him, he is strong in his own right but not the "strongest", nobody notices how deep of an abyss his soul has sunken in, and he succumbs to the lethal loneliness, falters in this marathon of sorcery.

suguru is brimming with love and compassion: it is what drives his heroism in youth and villainy as a cult leader. he is able to protect gojo's heart but not his own. he fluctuates between two polar extremes : utter distaste of humanity Vs. a duty to protect it despite its horrors. three things serve as final nails to the metaphorical coffin : yuki's words, haibara's death, miminana's abuse. he describes imbibing curses for curse manipulation is "like eating a rag used to clean vomit". how macabre, how grotesque, how enlightening - who is he doing all this for? the humans who killed riko? it was these humans haibara died serving, these same humans violently mistreated miminana.

toji and sonoda encapsulate evil very blatantly, and aren't enough to shake suguru's belief in humanity. but the turning point is the non-shaman cultists rejoicing : suguru is thus forced to confront the banality of evil.

and suguru responds by rejecting what he once loved, embraces the darkness plaguing him. believes the only way to eradicate curses is to uproot their source : humanity. humans, for as long as they will live, will give rise to curses born out of their negative emotions. there is no one to tell him any better, or protect his self-identity. he loses himself to his own sense of empathy, his own ideals.

he isn't indifferent at all, cannot pick and choose whom he loves and doesn't. his love and hatred is collective, in both he gives his all. even amidst his hatred, he doesn't lose his love.

who does he choose to target first, once amassing enough money, power, and reputation? sonoda, the man who ordered riko's assassination. someone who lies in wait to enact vengeance does it out of love. if he was nothing more than a corrupt tyrant, he wouldn't remember the circumstances of riko's demise or care enough about them. suguru's rise as a hero and his subsequent fall as a villain has always been about love. and it seems, to me, up until his death, he prioritizes satoru over himself. doesn't see satoru as a weapon at all, or he would have directly asked satoru to join his cause. instead he poses to satoru a question, presents him with a choice - which in turn makes satoru shaken enough to question his identity, his place in the system, becoming a teacher and dedicating his all to a fitting reformist centrism from an isolated and dare i say, individualistic person such as himself, who stands on the pinnacle of power. but he wouldn't have come to such a conclusion without suguru's experiences shaping his worldview (he himself apologizes to riko during his fight with toji because rather than feeling depressed over her death, he feels the pure pleasure of the world in that moment. killing toji endows him with a sense of duty towards megumi, and riko's death but obviously impacts him, but the change from full apathy, to neutral indifference except in the case of his students, was losing suguru.)

as evil as suguru becomes, he is not a hypocrite. that he kills his own parents is to show the seriousness and conviction he has in his ideals. his code of operation is consistent, even when it turns from pro-human to pro-shaman.

reminds you of what mahito tells yuuji: does yuuji ever consider how many curses he kills? so why should mahito account for how many humans he kills? suguru geto presents us with a possible answer : someone has to care about how many shamans are killed.

you can condemn him for his use of collective punishment, but suguru is a villain!

you can criticize his killing of innocents, but jjk conveys the carefully crafted narrative of a villain who once held staunch traditional and moral ideals.

suguru is evil for proposing collective punishment, but it is incredibly consistent with how emotional he is. he is empathetic because he cares about a girl like riko, doomed by the actions of the rest of the world, forgotten in her misery. he cares and it drives him to the deepest pits of despair, where life loses all color and meaning, despite only knowing her for so long and haibara as well, he enshrines haibara in his memory, when no one other than nanami does. hardly anyone remembers riko's existence, haibara's laughing face, but he does! and for that he spends each moment sinking in the quagmire of his grief and torment. his empathy is a sword of damocles hanging over his neck! to say that he is cruel and unfeeling is to contradict the very agony that drives his (wrongful?) actions. and he is indeed wrong for externalizing this indelible pain, wanting to inflict it upon innocents. but suguru is a villain! has been set up as such!

mahito raises this question to junpei,"is the opposite of love really indifference?" to satoru, it is. but to suguru, it is hatred which is the opposite of love.

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Full headcanons of MC being forced to attack M6 please 🙏🏽🙏🏽

The Arcana HCs: When MC is forced to attack M6

~ oh boy, anon friend, we're really not holding back today are we XD Hope you enjoy this sequel! ~

CW for non-gory injury descriptions, trauma disassociation, and intense guilt

-- to set the scene --

You don't know if you'll ever be able to forgive yourself.

In the moment, all you could feel was terror. The mage you were fighting rippled away as a haze of fear washed over your senses, and suddenly your worst nightmare was right next to you and readying itself to tear you limb from limb. You don't know how long you screamed and lashed out for. You don't know how many rules of fair fighting you abandoned to stay alive.

All you know is that, eventually, the terror subsides, and now you're looking at the pained face of your beloved as blood slowly trickles down their temple.

Julian

The first thing you feel is the way his arms are pinning you to him, effectively restraining you with a desperate hug

He's quietly talking to you, watching your eyes clear as you return to your senses, whispering "hey. hey, I'm here" over and over again until you're able to stop struggling and meet his gaze

You're almost relieved to see that you only managed to hit his head once, until he shakily loosens his grip and you can feel where your hands have angrily clawed and pummeled at his back

He's already nudging you to get back home, leaning a little heavily on your shoulder and telling you over and over again that it's not your fault, the threat's gone, nothing's hurt that can't be fixed

Refuses to take care of his own wounds until you've let him tend to yours and until you've started to believe that things will get better

It's hard not to let your heart break when he finally takes off his shirt and lets you get a look at his back. You tore it to shreds

Not to mention the cracked ribs that clearly make breathing hurt

He doesn't let you dwell on it, instead passing his doctor's tools back to you and talking you through the process of patching him up. Any apology is interrupted with "ah ah ah, my dear, doctors don't say sorry when they're helping people. It's not your fault."

Beyond the initial fear of losing you to the madness, he's not shaken up by your capacity to hurt him. If anything, once he's healed up, he starts praising your ferocity whenever he can

Asra

They're a little ways away from you when you regain lucidity, one shaking arm extended to hold up the magic barrier you were just struggling against. They look terrified - and heartbroken

As soon as you stop fighting and your legs begin to give out, he's sprinting the several feet over to catch you. There's a stream of apologies and reassurances leaving his mouth as he reaches you

"It's okay - it's okay - I'm so sorry, it's going to be okay - I'm sorry I didn't stop it sooner. Just hold on, my love, it'll all be okay -"

Doesn't want to let go of you. Mostly because they're injured and exhausted too, but also because it's easier not to let you see how badly they're hurt if you're both hiding in each other's necks

Won't let you look at him until he heals you first

When you do, you have a to keep a strong face, or you know they'll cover it up and take care of it themself. You didn't get through the barrier, but it seems your powerful magic attacks did. Effectively

The arm that was holding up the shield has bruises and cuts all over it. There's angry red lines reaching from his elbow across his chest where you apparently sent lightning dancing over it

They let you heal them because they know it'll help you, but they won't talk about such a painful thing openly. They don't want you to feel like you have to apologize. The nightmares think otherwise

When he does talk about it, it was seeing you so scared of him, like he was a threat to you. Like he'd hurt you. It's his greatest fear

Nadia

You open your eyes to find yourself at the other end of her drawn sword, the blade carefully hovering at an angle where only the flat of it will strike you. Her eyes look wide and scared - vulnerable

You can tell she's been moving defensively this whole time because she doesn't take advantage of your sudden pause. Rather, she watches you cautiously as you sink to the ground

She wants to believe it's over, but she's not putting her sword away until she knows for certain that it's done. Prove you're back to her

Can't bring herself to touch you or to let you touch her until you're both finished talking. You need to tell her what happened to make you act like that. She needs you to know what she did and why

She did everything she could not to hurt you. She promises

Doesn't hold it against you at all. She knew from the moment your eyes went hazy that you weren't acting of your own volition, and she feels truly sorry for the frightening thing you must've endured

But that doesn't change how startling it was to be on the receiving end of your fear and aggression. She needs to know you're okay. She needs to know she's okay. She needs to know it'll stay that way

Has a Palace medic tend to your wounds separately, but does eventually let you use healing magic on her once she's comfortable with your touch again (though that might take a few hours at least)

Insists on holding you close that night and the following evenings. She knows she's safe with you and refuses to feel otherwise

Muriel

The more your vision clears, the more your terror changes to horror. He did nothing to stop you. He did nothing to stop you

The blood trickling down his temple meets with several gashes on his jaw and neck, there's jagged gouges across his chest and shoulders, and bruises already blooming across his stomach

And yet he's giving you the gentlest look, reaching out to you slowly the same way you've seen him calm wounded beasts in the forest. You've still done much more damage than a scared rabbit

Doesn't say much, just catches you by the shoulders when you start to fall and carefully cradles your cheek when you start to cry

You don't realize how much trauma he's fighting until you've made it back to the hut and the fine tremble in his hands hasn't left

And it's because he's so busy fighting his own awful memories that he accidentally shuts you out, not saying a word, not hearing a word, turning away after setting you down so you can't see him numbly dab at his wounds and try to get the blood out of his sight

Doesn't start to break until you start to break. Somewhere in his mind is a conviction that he's not allowed to feel bad about this because he's had worse, and your tears are his permission

Healing really begins late that night as he holds you in his lap by the fire, learning to let his own tears fall while you tend to his injuries and lament the fact that Muriel didn't protect the person most precious to you - himself

Portia

When the haze lifts, you're flat on your back, all of Portia's weight on your middle while she pins your hands to the ground above your head. The worst part is that she's openly sobbing

You can feel throbbing aches and pains all over your body where you know she fought back and you've never been so happy to be injured in your life. Sadly, you still did a fair amount of damage

So relieved to see you stop struggling and recognize her that she collapses into hugging you and telling you it's over and it's okay and she loves you so much and she's so glad you're back

Furious at the mage that pulled this kind of trick on you, to the point that she can't even hear you bring it up without immediately venting all her anger at them and all the things they deserve

This accidentally makes it impossible for her to accept any kind of apology from you, because to her you're a victim. (which, you are, but that doesn't change the injuries your hands gave her)

Quick to try to cheer both of you up, dragging you home to her cottage, pulling out her first aid kit, and handing you what you need to patch her up while she gets started on you. It'll be okay

Starts processing it pretty openly the next day, at which point you're finally able to share more of how you felt through the whole thing and make the apologies you want to make (she forgives you)

There's a short period of time where you're both extra careful about consensual touch, but all in all, she bounces back quickly

Lucio

You can see his golden arm up and guarding his head while he readies his human hand to push you away again. His gaze is scared and worried, and yet vacant enough to know he's acting on instinct

Stays frozen as you fall, still mentally struggling to realize it's over, before finally collapsing next to you and reaching out to pull you into a hug. You're back. You're here. He's so glad you're here

Shaking and terrified that everything's going to fall apart after this. He just saw you more scared and angry than he's ever seen you before - as scared and angry as he's seen others often look at him

He knows deep down you were under a spell that made you see something else, but there's a worry present in his brain that this was actually you awakening to your true feelings about him

It doesn't help that he doesn't remember what all he did to fight back. Years of combat experience and battlefields kicked in, and all his thoughts went on hold while his body went on autopilot

And the last time someone he loved fought to kill him - well - it was his mother. That did not end well

He can't bring himself to care about injuries until he knows you won't leave him, until he knows you're going to work through this with him. Until he knows you can still love each other

Once you're reconciled and bandaged up, he's in his element. The amount of tender attention you're showing him is feeding his soul

Still subconsciously keeps his guard up around you, for a while

[suashii]

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ 𝒮𝒜𝐹𝐸𝒯𝒴 𝒩𝐸𝒯

info ⭑ suna rintaro x reader. 1.3k wc. sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ spider-man!suna 

note ⭑ i cannot stop thinking about spider!suna !! possibly expect a few more drabbles in this au :3 

you’re toeing the line between wakefulness and slumber; about to slip into dreamland but lucid enough to hear the tick… tick… tick… of the alarm clock situated on your beside table. the rhythmic sound begins to grow distant the deeper into the sleep you fall.

and before you actually drift off, you’re jolted awake by a noisy bang! at your window. the sound rips a startled scream from your throat as you scramble to sit up. the comforter bunched up in your fists is held up to your face to shield you from whatever just slammed into your window. you peer over the top of your flimsy safeguard, hoping that the source of the jarring noise is long gone.

unfortunately for you, it isn’t. although, there’s no reason for you to be so nervous anymore.

you recognize the glimpse of black and white haphazardly swinging at the corner of your window. rubbing your tired eyes with a sigh, you toss your blanket aside and leave the warm comfort of your bed to approach the glass. 

you’re met with a groan of pain and some muffled swears when you reach your destination. your lips wobble, threatening to break out into a grin upon hearing the familiar voice.

the clicks of your window unlocking sound throughout the quiet of your room before you lift up the pane. a chilly draft enters the space and goosebumps raise on your arms almost immediately. you ignore the unpleasant sensation in favor of greeting your clumsy, untimely visitor. “did you seriously just swing straight into my window?”

regaining his balance, suna perches himself on the concrete lip of your window. with one hand by his feet to keep steady, he uses the other to snatch the black mask off his head. strands of dark hair stick up in different directions and it takes a moment for his grayish-yellow eyes to adjust to his normal vision outside the mask. when it finally does, he’s met your face, the corner of your lips twitching with a smile. somehow it makes him feel less embarrassed—but only a little. “i meant to land on the ledge but i came in too fast.”

“if you’re all this city has to rely on as a hero, we’re doomed.” you only mean it as a joke, you know that and so does suna, but he still feigns hurt at your comment, poking out his lip in a pout. he’s mastered the kicked puppy expression but you only offer him a sickeningly sweet smile in response. you jerk your thumb behind you as you take a few steps back to allow him some space. “come in, you’re making my room cold.”

he does as you say, climbing into your window much more gracefully than he had arrived. he closes it behind him as you scurry back to the warmth of your bed. you’re busy getting comfortable under your blanket when suna plops down beside you. you’d chastise him for lying on your bedding in his suit that’s been who knows where, but there’s something more pressing at the forefront of your mind.  “what brings you here so late? you’re not hurt or anything, are you?”

“would you kiss it better if i was?” he asks, his eyes flitting over to meet yours. his tone is entirely serious but it’s accompanied by a grin that tells you he’s trying to get a reaction out of you.

you’re tempted to shut him down, just so he isn’t allowed the satisfaction he’s so desperately seeking, but the more you consider his question, the more you think about his circumstances.

this role of superhero, protector, defender, was thrust on him without his say—against his will. the once normal college student who played volleyball and video games in his free time now risks his life every day so the people around him stay safe. he downplays the danger he faces and you try not to show that you worry for him but you do.

you don’t know what you’d do with yourself if he ended up hurt.

so, even if he came to you with some minor injury like a bruised cheek or a split lip or a sprained ankle, you’d do anything in your power to make him feel better—even if that remedy was a kiss.

rolling onto your side so you’re facing him, you prop your chin in the palm of your hand. suna’s gaze is still glued to you and you challenge it with a stare of your own. “you know what? i would.”

the curl of the corners of his lips falls upon hearing your unforeseen reply. a weird feeling overcomes him, too. he can feel his heart rate pick up and can hear the ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump of the organ in his ears. the closest he’s felt to this sensation before is when he’s soaring through the air evading villains and crooks. but those are real threats and you’re the farthest thing from it. you’re his safety net, there to catch him whenever he feels himself falling.

why is he falling now?

he blinks and clears his throat. “what?”

“i said i would kiss it better if you were hurt.” you proudly tell him, sporting the smile of someone who beat the master at their own game. it isn’t often you render suna speechless and a sense of satisfaction washes over you knowing that you were able to do so by simply saying something you meant.

it’s difficult to see him in the dark of your room but you do pick up on the way his fingers nervously tap at his stomach and how he’s mindlessly chewing on the inside of his cheek. he isn’t looking at you anymore, either. you wonder what’s going on in his head, what thoughts are swimming in his skull. outside of his joking, he tends to keep a lot to himself.

you suspect he’s doing that much now. between his uncharacteristic silence and the fact that he never told you why he dropped in, you think it might be something he isn’t quite ready to share yet. it’s not something you’ll ever hold against him and if you’re the comfort he seeks after a long day, you don’t want to ruin that by pushing him. so, instead of waiting for suna to speak up, you ask, “wanna stay the night?”

he turns his head to face you. “can i?”

“mhm,” you hum, nodding your head. “you left a bag here last time, there might be something you can wear to sleep in it.”

you point to the bag propped up in the corner of your room. his gaze follows your finger and lands on the drawstring pouch he’s been looking for since last week. he internally chuckles at himself—he should have known he could find it here, where else would it be?

suna pulls himself up from his reclined position to make his way across the room. though, partway through the process, a sharp pain shoots up his side. his hand shoots out to hold his aching ribs as he bites back a groan of complaint.

you quickly sit up with him. there’s concern painted all over your face. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, it’s where i—” he stops in the middle of his explanation, remembering the humiliation that blanketed him earlier.

“hit the window?” you finish his sentence with a quiet laugh that you fail to hold back.

he nods in confirmation, dragging the palms of his hands over his face in a show of bashfulness. it’s cute and so unlike suna. you can’t help but want to tease him just a little more.

“aw, don’t be embarrassed. want me to kiss it better?”

hiya, it's manon! thank you for giving this a read! if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging and/or leaving a comment! much love from me to you ❤︎

[essentiallyleaf]

day 20. cockwarming. with. jisoo.

1105 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, cockwarming, angst, i don’t even know anymore, possibly the coldest cockwarming fic to ever exist, so much angst and for what.

notes.

short and a little rushed. sounds just like every day of my life. exhaustedly, leaf.

You plop down on the bed, barely able to take your black dress pants off before the dizziness gets the best of you. Jisoo is there, laying still, facing away from you and towards the cloud-shielded moon outside of the open window, like she always is. You can’t really tell if she’s awake or not, and the alcohol certainly doesn’t help.

This must be what they mean when they talk about magnetic fields. We’re immersed in them all the time, but we can’t see it, something about a wavelength our eyes are not tuned to. It’s like even when it’s past your bedtime (which on a weekend night like tonight is at least three hours after your regular bedtime), the sky completely starless, when you zig-zag through the streets and keeping your balance requires a voluntary effort, when your white shirt has more than one almost fully dried Bordeaux stain on it, you don’t know why or how, but your red needle always points back home, back to her.

You always manage to find your way to your shared bed, well, shared right in this moment, but often, too often one could easily argue, the bed feels hollow and freezing as Jisoo’s in it alone. Maybe that’s why the first thing she does when you lie down on it, is take your strong arm and wrap it around her waist to hold her close and share some of your alcohol-boosted warmth, and keep her own arm over it as if to ask you to never let go, never leave her again. She’s awake. Your natural response is to use your other hand to brush her long, silky black hair and watch it flow through your fingers, but as she feels your breath caress her shoulders, she knows that you can’t promise much more than that.

This shouldn't work. Well, to be fair, it isn’t working. But throwing stuff away, whether it’s dropping old photos in the fireplace, or leaving an entire relationship behind you to possibly never see your special person again, that hurts. It’s not just about the value of it, no, if that was the case, if that thing you’re throwing away still brought value to you, then you wouldn't be getting rid of it, right? It’s about admitting that something went wrong along the road, that things didn’t work out, that a wrong turn was taken, and that maybe, you were the one who took it. So the only thing you can do is turn away, keep going down that road, and if you ever happen to look back in a moment of accidental lucidity, justify your own mistakes.

So Jisoo reaches back and starts rubbing the outer side of your naked thigh, slowly traveling up to your ass as you lay a trail of quick kisses on her shoulder. Once she starts fiddling with the hem of your boxers and pushing her own butt back towards you, you get the message. You take your underwear off and stroke your dick a couple times before her nightgown is hiked up and her cheeks fully envelop your length. Your pecks take a trip up to her neck while both of you start shifting your hips up and down, back and forth against one another’s, a couple of low moans leaving your mouth.

It was your fault, but what if it wasn’t? What if that girl, what was her name even, hadn’t asked you for a lighter? What if she hadn’t looked at you all night with those warm brown eyes, what if she hadn’t asked you for a ride home? Any of those would’ve fixed this. The nights of yelling at each other’s faces and the nights of dead silence, the feeling of unbridgeable distance even when holding hands, the cool air of beach days in the middle of August. Maybe invisible walls are the best solution in some cases, and fuck it if they break some people’s immersion, as long as you can see the sun rise in the distance, you can live with not being able to touch it.

Jisoo suddenly stops her motion just to raise her thigh a little, suggesting you to enter. You align yourself with her slit and penetrate her warmth, her slick coating easing you through her walls and quickly letting you bottom out inside her, but as soon as you try to retreat, she puts a hand on your hip, halting its movement. She just places her thigh back down and stays still for a few seconds. A few seconds that enclose some kind of understanding, or, a feeling of understanding, at the very least. Most of the times when you have a revelation, an epiphany, you have no idea what the fuck is being revealed to you, you only see the light bulb turn on. Your kisses get wetter and longer, traveling from her upper neck to her ear and to her jaw, your hand finds itself on her soft, perfectly sized mound. She starts contracting her abdominal muscles repeatedly and rhythmically, squeezing your shaft between her tight walls, your pelvis still fixed in its place. You see her skin glow more than usual under the faint moonlight, and you think you taste a little salt as your tongue brushes her cheek, which you can’t help but groan on every time Jisoo tenses around you.

Invisible walls are not meant to be broken. They’re meant to disengage, to discourage. What does it say about us when they manage to do what they’re meant to? Is it sad, disheartening? Does it speak about our sense of agency as a whole? What if you did something different, what if it was your fault? You can’t go back, so what can you do about it now? Another night of getting drunk, another night of having sex, in each other’s embrace but miles away.

Your hand feels up her thigh as hers reaches between your legs from the back and starts massaging your testicles. You can’t hold back anymore. Her abs contract once, twice. You stop counting, she feels too good. Your thigh wraps around hers as you cum inside, letting out multiple guttural moans right next to her ear. You drop load after load of white paint onto her walls and into her womb.

You think you hear a little sniffle. Again, the only response is to caress her hair and leave one long kiss on the back of her head. Not more. Sometimes we hurt people that love us, love people that hurt us. And if it’s true that opposites attract, then likes must also repel.

-

footnotes.

sorry if this is depressing. how can i help you get back to horny, the superior mood? lunatically, leaf.

[yanderenightmare]

poly kiribaku with a small captive darling!! badcap/goodcop dynamic where kiri's the really cruel one, and baku cant help but enjoy watching him break little darling over his knee despite feeling a little guilty about not doing anything????

Bakugou Katsuki & Kirishima Eijirou

TW: NSFW, dubcon/noncon, yandere, good cop/bad cop manipulation, size-difference, poly, abuse i.e. slapping, hair-pulling, etc

The slap to her face sent her to the ground, and Katsuki cringed – face flinching as the redhead towered with unfair height over the small girl at his feet. His large hands, rough like stone, hoisted her up by the arm she raised to shield herself – only to shove her down on the bed – looming and pushing himself onto her where she fought so uselessly, so desperately to protect herself – despite knowing it only motivated the brawny male to get even rougher.

A fist latched tight around her throat kept her down with disorienting strength – spluttering on strangled air while her head thumped hot and blinding, only barely lucid enough to catch the sharp sounds of his belt unbuckling. 

The other cruel fist twisted her dress until tearing it off, leaving her even more vulnerable to his harsh handlings – ripping her panties down to her legs while she kicked in distress, caught beneath the unjust muscle mass with no ounce of hope to escape him.

Sobbing, she fervently tried stopping him – winding her thighs shut with a pair of small hands pushing at his chest to keep him distanced. But it was all just silly of her, as it took little more than an effortless push to have her completely flattened beneath him – knees spread wide open on each side of his hips.

Katsuki stood and watched – rigidly – listening to the pitiful sounds of her whimpering cries overrun by Kirishima’s much domineering groans. 

It happened fast, and soon it was already over with – and he’d done nothing but stand there all the while without a word – and still simply stood there speechless even now – as she knelt on the floor by the redhead's feet, cowering as he fisted her hair tightly in a mean grip – asking her in loud growls if she had anything to say for herself.

“I'm sorry- I'm sorry, Eijiro-” She spluttered out, eyes squeezed tight with hands thrown up in surrender – failing to shield herself from even the loud rashness of his voice where thick tears mercilessly streamed in streaks down her stinging raw cheeks.

“And your other master.” He added, yanking her head back with another hand gripping her jaw to face the silent blond.

“I'm sorry, Katsuki- I'm sorry- I'm sorry-”

It took him a second too long to shake free of the stiffness that had taken its toll on him – as though he had somehow forgotten he wasn’t just a spectator. Feeling ill at the sight of how meaty and big Kirishima’s hands were in comparison to her head, where the massive male held her tight like a football while she hiccupped and hitched on uneven breaths, all riddled with terror and hurt.

“There you go~ We learn, don't we, sweetie?” Kirishima continued his brutalities, fucking his coarse fingers into her mouth – making her choke and wretch – though still scared in place, obediently kneeling beneath the male with her hands held steady on the hard muscles of his thighs.

“Kiri, take it easy….” Bakugou finally managed to voice – taking a cautious step towards the two of them.

“What? Oh, look- now you’re making him worry.” Kirishima scolded, pulling her up by her hair, with her wincing at the sting before she was shoved onto her other large captor. 

“I’m sorry- please don't-” She begged, knees quaking as she sagged against him weakly – face twisted in plead with a pitiful furrow of mercy wrinkled between her brows and eyes impossibly large with tears and fear – hopelessly searching for any ounce of kindness he had to spare.

“Show him then.” Kirishima voiced brashly. “Show him how sorry you are.”

She shook and obeyed, taking the ever-so-silent blond by his big hands – hoping he wouldn’t use his strength on her like the other one – while guiding him back to the bed.

“I’m sorry, Katsuki- please don’t worry~” She tried soothing – gently pushing him back on the bed so she could crawl over him and offer some comfort like how Kirishima had taught her he liked.

“You hear that?” The redhead spoke. “Go on, Tsuki~ touch her.” He encouraged him while a rough hand came to make her flinch despite it only gently stroking her ass where she hovered over Bakugou’s clothed bump – painfully stretching out the fabric keeping it trapped.

He barely wanted to look down – afraid to admit to himself why he was so fucking hard – knowing it had everything to do with the fact that Kirishima’s so cruel and she’s so cute it’s cruel in and of itself – feeling so reluctant to acknowledge it as it would mean he could no longer deny the fact that he’s something really very sick for enjoying it.

“Please. It’s fine- touch me.” She sweet-talked, kissing with wet lips and tongue against his neck – making his heart pound harder with tremoring hands subconsciously lifting to card guilt-ridden yet greedy fingers into the plush softness of the thighs cradling him.

About to groan when pushing her hips down to grind on him – stopped short when the redhead raked his hand back in the girl’s hair and yanked her back – ripping her from lathering his neck with sweet spit and pleasurable little whimpers.

He watched her crane, arching back to look up into Kirishima’s face – a collection of ferally pointy teeth smiling down at her with a gleam nothing short of sadistic.

“What gives, buttercup? You’re never this sweet with me?” He accused, fist only tightening to make her wince.

She lifted her hand and stroked his cheek, encouraging him to lean in. “I’m sorry, Eijirou~ I’m still learning~” She tried, and successfully – he humored her – kissing her lips with tongue and teeth while tangling his hand softer into her hair, soothing fingertips brushing reassuringly against her scalp rather than twisting it from their roots.

His other hand rounded her and flicked her budding nipple, making her yelp into his receiving mouth – where he bore a toothy smirk – rumbling out a low chuckle in response while continuing to rub the nub between coarse fingers.

“Have you already forgotten about someone?” He asked after a while, hot against her lips – and Bakugou realized a second too late that it meant another punishment was due – watching her struggle with yet another cry as Kirishima ensnared her neck in a harsh chokehold.

Her smaller hand clawed on the paw without merit while he continued kissing her breathless mouth, desperately gulping for air he wouldn’t allow.

“Kiri-” Bakugou interjected once again, and the redhead let up, making her suck in harshly – slumping forward against the blond’s chest in a coughing spur until she ended up simply crying into his collar with fingers clutching tightly onto the cotton of his shirt.

He felt her shiver all the way down to her toes – his stomach brewing with stirs in return – bubbly and boiling as he watched the continued cruelty before him where the redhead played with her like something inanimate.

“Oh- you can handle it, right? Can’t you, sweetie?” He feigned tenderness, softly stroking the top of her head where she had it buried in Bakugou’s neck, gripping him for safety he was sorry to say he wouldn’t give her.

He thought he heard her whisper out the teeniest tiniest plea where she clutched him even tighter – molding her body flat against him – as close as she could while goosebumps shock-rose all across her exposed skin.

“I’m just teaching you to appreciate us, buttercup.” Kirishima defended, his stiff lips pressed against her shoulder, leaving a wet trail of sloppy kisses up her neck as he positioned himself behind her.

Rough hands lifted her by the fat of her ass – and soon she felt the stiff structure of his thick member brush against the raw puff of her sore cunt.

“If I don’t, who will?” He whispered, stroking her hair over to the other side to get a clean shot at her ear – whispering upon it. “It’s not like Mr. Perfect here is gonna get his hands dirty.”

[the-californicationist]

The Simple Mistake (Ghoap)

Ghoap fluff, hurt/comfort (please be nice i dont write ghoap)

Johnny wasn’t often the smaller man. In most situations, he was the aggressor, or at least the larger of the pairing. But, he felt himself being lifted as if his body were mostly air. He was being carried like a sack of flour, hoisted over a huge, mountainous shoulder, and tossed into arms that cradled him with ease. The sergeant could feel the way his captor’s muscles bent and twisted, even under all his black gear, and although the gunfire and the flashbangs were deafening, he could hear the hollow, steady swell of the man’s breathing as it filled his wide chest. 

“C’mon, Sergeant. Just a few minutes and you’ll be right as rain. Hold on,” the dark, muffled voice told him. 

The man had been making these threats the whole time, promising him freedom and safety, telling him he’d be alright. Johnny didn’t much care either way, not anymore. Right now, all he wanted to feel was more of the same, more of these shoulders, more of this expansive back whose lats were pulled wide like spread wings. A great bird of prey, or a vulture come to claim its carrion. 

Bullet wounds were always a fucking mess, that was for sure. Luckily, the pain of it was being covered by an immense layer of shock. Johnny could feel the symptoms; chills, loss of sensation, trembling… it was all there. But, he was thankfully lucid, so they may not have hit him in a vital spot. Because of the vest and all of his gear, he hadn’t been sure exactly which bullet had landed the blow, but he felt the punch of the projectiles in his leg and chest, so something was bleeding… that much was clear. 

It wasn’t his symptoms that concerned him; it was the tone of his Lieutenant’s voice as he reassured him over and over and over again, killing Makarov’s men as he made his way out of the warehouse with a series of pistols that he procured from the piles of dead terrorists. Having to stop and murder more Konni operatives made their journey a slow one, and Johnny could tell Ghost was becoming more and more frustrated. 

“Where are these fuckin’ bastards all comin’ from?” The strong English accent was a comfort to the Scot, as much as it was an annoyance. 

He didn’t reply to the question, not even with a snarky jab, and he stayed as still as he could, trying to make it easy on his carrier. 

“You alive, Sergeant?” The concern had increased by an octave.

“Solid,” Johnny managed to respond, but it was getting a little hard to breathe. 

“Almost there, mate. Almost… there,” Ghost rushed into a heavy, lockdown facility and shut the door behind him.

There were three inches of steel between them and their enemies and absolutely no communication service. The silence of the safe room settled around the two men like a dark blanket, shielding them from the outside world. The light was dim, the floor was mostly sand, and there was a marked lack of furniture. 

Johnny felt himself being gingerly laid down on a desk, all of its contents fiercely strewn on the floor of the room, and Ghost began to remove the sergeant’s gear. 

“Jesus, LT,” Johnny panted, “Feels like you didnae even break a wee sweat, sir. I wanna be just like you when I grow up.”

The lieutenant was too focused for his jokes, his voice flat and cold, focused on ripping Johnny’s gear from him piece by piece,

“You’ll be better than me, Johnny.”

Johnny felt like he was being mauled by a bear. His body was jostled around like a ragdoll as Ghost pulled plate after plate from his chest. Eventually, his vest was ripped away, and then Johnny saw the glint of a huge knife. He barely had time to gasp when Ghost sliced up through his shirt and sleeves, yanking it off of his body, revealing his chest, sweaty and hairy, tanned in odd lines where his tank top and tee shirt had been. The sergeant chuckled a bit, nervous, smiling up at his commander,

“Maybe I already am, sir.”

Ghost didn’t reply. He was too focused on the task at hand. His eyes were wild, checking and rechecking Johnny’s body for the source of his blood. Finally, the sergeant was turned, lifted with ease from the desk, so that Ghost could inspect his leg. 

“Trousers have to come off, Sergeant,” the lieutenant explained. 

It was barely a warning. In one swift rip, Ghost shucked Johnny’s pants down to reveal… all of him. 

Johnny wasn’t really one for underwear, but he was kicking himself for that habit today. 

“LT! Christ!”

“You’re hit in the side of this leg. Need an XStat here. Deep breath.”

Johnny didn’t have time to breathe at all. The searing pain from the insertion of the wound-sealing device made his face twist into a wild grimace, and he shivered from the hot flash of agony. 

“Fuuuuckkk…” Johnny moaned, writhing and fully naked on the shitty desk.

Ghost was on the ground, digging in his gear bag, and he produced a foil shock blanket. He unwrapped it, ripping through the packaging, and lay it over his sergeant, tucking it around him. 

Johnny was shuddering, and his voice shook, but he tried to smile,

“Th-thanks, LT… Wish I had a wee bit more warmth, though. Cannae seem to stop shakin’.”

Ghost pulled off his gloves, and then, to his shock, Johnny watched as he removed his mask. He didn’t see Simon’s face often, but when he did, he tried not to stare. It was just a face, after all. There were no odd deformities, but it was as if some version of Zeus had just revealed himself through a swan or a bull; it was meant to be witnessed. 

The lieutenant didn’t meet his eyes, but he scooped him up, his huge arms curled under his back and in the crook of his knees, and brought him down to the ground. Then, he just… held him there. 

Johnny tried to remember the last time he had been held. A wee lass from high school, perhaps? But, she had not cradled him like a bairn. Perhaps it was his ma, when he drug his knee climbing through nettle at his uncle’s farm, burning up like the idiot he was, sniffling about the sting. 

Now, here he was, a grown man, cradled again in the same way. The bulk of Simon was warm against him, but the gear dug into his naked flesh. Ghost could sense his discomfort and moved him aside for a moment, shrugging out of his vest, and replacing Johnny right back into his arms. 

“Are you warm?” Simon asked quietly, a little under his breath.

“Aye, sir, thanks for tha’.”

“Are you in pain?” This question came out like a prayer, and it unsettled the younger man.

“Aye… but, it’s better now, sir.”

“Good. Help’s comin’. Sent Laswell a ping before we got locked in.”

Johnny chuckled, resting his head on Simon’s shoulder,

“She’ll find us in a right state.”

Simon shifted a bit, and there was a long pause before he muttered,

“I’m sorry, Sergeant. When they arrive, we can —”

“Haud yer wheesht,” Johnny interrupted him, pressing his forehead into Simon’s warm, bare neck, “It’s a fine state.”

“Aye.”

“Aye?” Johnny’s blood rushed through his veins, “So, you have taken a shine to me, then.”

“Aye,” Simon said, finally turning to meet Johnny’s eyes as he lay in his arms. He pressed his nose into Johnny’s space, close enough for a kiss but speaking to him instead, 

“I’ve taken a bloody shine. It’s bright enough to keep me awake at night, and it’s blindin’ me now. Everything in me says that I should leave you alone. Your rank, your future… you rely on me. But, I can’t stop staring at the shine of you. So bright. All the time.”

Johnny’s arm crinkled through the foil blanket as he reached a hand up to touch the coarse shadow on Simon’s jaw, drawing those full lips into his, petting his cheek, tasting the cigarette smoke on his tongue. He moved against him, feeling Simon’s enormous strength respond in a generous outpouring of affection, like a statue once frozen now come to life. They sank into each other, melding together, melted like hot wax, fusing, tumbling until there was only the shine of love between them.

[lookinghalfacorpse]

long overdue cdream seizure drabble for @icecreamvi. dream is finally healthy enough to fight again, but seizures still hit at inopportune times.

/dsmp /rp

It was good to see Dream fighting again.

In all fairness, this fight in particular was a bit annoying. Technoblade and Dream were on their way back home after some errands when they were ambushed in the forest. Techno learned over the years that people who got lost in that enchanted forest, designed by the Goddess of Death to disorient and confuse, grew desperate quickly. They were little more than petty thieves, but even stray dogs are dangerous when they're hungry.

And their archer was infuriating.

Dream raised his shield a bit above his head, stopping an arrow before it landed in Techno's shoulderblade. With his shield occupied, Dream held his opponent at bay while blocking with his axe. "You couldn't afford to watch your back a bit more?" He joked.

"Eh," Techno replied. He was more interested in tossing one of the swordsmen into a tree. Humans are too easy to throw around.

Dream wasn't anywhere close to his former strength, but he could hold his own in battle, and he still overpowered most opponents. It was impressive to watch. He was quick and clever, and he knew how to use his bodyweight as a source of power, even after all the weight he lost. He was quick to disarm the swordsman that opposed him, and while the poor soul scrambled back to his feet and scanned around him for options, Dream stepped forward and smoothly raised his axe above his head--

--when suddenly his shoulder shuddered, and the axe dropped to the snow.

Dream gasped as air was forced out of his lungs, a hand raising to his chest in panic. Techno was familiar with the warning signs of a seizure. He's helped Dream endure countless seizures, both in the Vault and outside of it. He heard the creak of the archer's bow and bolted over to Dream just in time to guard him from an arrow. Instead of landing in Dream's skull, it sunk deep into Techno's mid-back.

Techno tried not to react to the sting. "Hey, Dream--"

Dream made a pained sound as the seizure took hold, his knees giving out and his shoulders spasming. His right shoulder twisted backwards while the left trembled uncontrollably. He fell fully into Techno's arms, his moans giving way to silence as he ran out of breath.

A second arrow hit Techno's shoulder. A third near the base of his neck. The swordsman, seeing his opening, lunged towards his blade.

They needed to run.

Techno gathered Dream's body in his arms and sprinted for the forest. With any luck, its disorienting effects could lend them an advantage. Dream's hands clawed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it at odd, uncomfortable angles. Techno had to keep adjusting his grip as the young man squirmed and seized, desperate not to hold him too tightly and risk hurting him.

As soon as he couldn't hear arrows fly anymore, Techno ducked behind a large tree and set Dream on the ground, hunching his body protectively over him. If that damn archer found them again, he'd see nothing but piglin.

"Breathe through it," Techno instructed, his own breath heavy from the exertion.

Dream met his eyes. Sometimes he seemed lucid throughout the seizure while other times he seemed more unconscious. This time, his gaze was watery and heartbroken, but intelligent. "Te-- Tech-- Tech--"

"I said breathe, not talk, nerd." Techno placed a hand on Dream's shoulder, rubbing along the fabric of his jacket slowly. "Relax."

Fully encompassed by Technoblade's body, half-buried in snow, and surrendering to a seizure, Dream looked so small.

"You're--bleeding--" Dream coughed, his voice strained as his jaw tightened.

"And you're seizin'. I'd say we're both doin' pretty great."

"I'm--"

"Dream. Hush."

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr--"

Techno bowed his head until their foreheads touched, letting his eyes fall closed. They'd ride this out together, like they always did.

"--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Heya!! can i request for yandere john wick (headcannons or give anything will work)

You probably know which Anon i am. Please forgive me i got a little too happy cuz you write so good for such good stuff!

Yandere John Wick Headcanons

Warnings: Obsessive Behaviour, Stalking, Snooping, Very Brief Implication of Smut, Just John in Love <333, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: I wanted to get these out before I watch the new John Wick film; one which I have been waiting for for the last 4 years <3

O B S E S S I V E

Absolutely an obsessive lucid yandere – he may be in love, but he’s not delusional.

Regardless of whether you came before or after Helen, John knows how cut-throat his profession is; how quickly everything can go from an is to a was.

Thus, nothing is certain. Not you, not him, not your relationship.

So when he realises he’s in love with you – a process as gradual as the construction of Earth itself – he’s never letting you out of his sight.

This might manifest as something as subtle as him visiting you more than usual, staying, longer during movie nights, trying to get you to spend the night more often; inconspicuous displays of a strengthening friendship you and John had accrued over the last couple years or so.

But, unbeknownst to you, he’s around even when you’re unaware.

An unmarked black car parked a house or two down the street, shielded by the shadows of the trees as moonlight casts a stark white against the black.

An inconspicuously-dressed civilian who’s been sat on that park bench for the last two hours as you read your book.

And, eventually, the tiny camera attached underneath your sofa, monitoring every coming and going of your house.

You know about none of this, of course.

Sure, you may have suspicions that the car down the street – one you’ve never seen before in your life – could be doing something… but who were you to judge ? There could be a perfectly logical explanation !

But John keeps enough of himself – and you – in the dark so you’d never suspect him.

I mean, why would you ? He’s John Wick ! Nicest, quietest guy on the block.

If ever he’s on a mission; John relies on that camera more than he’s like to admit.

In his downtime, while resting up at the Continental, he’ll check his phone, see that you’ve gone to the kitchen to make something or other, and wait for you to return to the sofa until he can put his phone away.

Even with his logical mind, he can’t help but fall partial victim to his superstition that, once you reach the sofa, nothing bad can happen to you.

The idea of putting up more cameras has crossed his mind.

Multiple times.

But you’re attentive. You’d notice something as small as a little blinking light a mile off.

Hencewhy he takes to manual surveillance when he’s not out earning a thriving.

He also lowkey interrogates you.

“You found a boyfriend yet ?”

You give a sharp laugh.

“If I had, you’d be the first to know,”

You already tell John practically everything that happens to you – as best friends do – but whenever you ask John something similar, he’ll skirt around your questions.

“No time for that,” he’ll tell you whenever you try to identify the new mystery partner in his life.

“You’re always so busy, John-John !”

Ah, his nickname. A mythic specialty no other has had the privilege to call him.

And John gives a rare smile.

“I’m never too busy for you.”

And you know he means it.

Whenever you need him, he’s there.

And you try to be there for him as much as possible, but given how elusive he is, he rarely seems to need it.

You want to help as best you can, regardless.

So, one day, out of the blue, you hand John a set of keys.

He’s a smart man. But he can’t wrap his head around what you’re trying to tell him.

And when he stares at you with a narrowed look, your eyes roll, the edges of your lips curling up.

“They’re keys, John,” you say. And you gesture around the living room, general in your manner. “To my house.”

And John stares at you for a moment. Then two.

“(Y/N), I’m not trained to be a housekeeper.”

“Oh my god, John–”

You have to explain to him that you’re not trying to get him to clean your house or care for it. You’re opening it up to him.

“I trust you more than anyone else to know how everything works here,” you say, a hand on his shoulder. He’s trying to keep dead eye contact with you, but the feeling of your fingers holding him with a softness he’s never known is like being branded.

“So,” you smile. “If you ever need it for anything, you can get in.”

Honestly, John has been granted few mercies in his time; makeshift alliances with murderers who were loyal to none, not even themselves, his life saved only by his ability to barter and his renowned skill for death. And never are these mercies granted without a price.

So to have you gift him a set of keys to the place you are most vulnerable takes John a while to come to terms with, shall we say.

Remember earlier when I mentioned John’s idea to install more cameras ?

Well, now you’ve given him a perfect in.

Plus, he now has access to all your personal belongings.

At first, he did try to restrain himself.

Trust me, he did.

But, as the days grew into weeks, your keys sat on his bedside, glinting under any source of light that could find its way inside.

And, as if the Gods aligned circumstance on his favour, you would be away from home for a week.

A trip to such-and-such a place – John had the address memorised even before you did.

You’d best believe that, although he initially had his reservations about 1.) you going on the trip, and 2.) using your absence as a means to snoop around your home, John is not immune to whim and fancy. Especially when it came to you.

He’s phantasmic; he leaves no trace, not even fingerprints as he prowls your apartment, looking for…well, anything, really.

He avoids stooping so low as to rifle through your underwear drawer like a stalker. Instead, he uses what he likes to call ‘environmental storytelling’ to make deductions about you.

He’s a very intuitive, perceptive individual, so the story of your everyday routing unfolds for him as if he were reading a book.

And, yes, the temptation to peek at the…less savoury pieces of your inventory did become overwhelming when he could no longer be satiated with the literature you consumed, the worn look of your favourite outfit, your secret money stash you kept in the biscuit tin in the kitchen.

To make a long story short, John walked out your house with a short of yours.

And, when he got home, he did the only thing he could think to do.

He put it on a pillow and pretended it was you.

Cuddles with it whenever he’s missing you. Or sad.

Maaay have cried into it on more than one occasion.

Maaay have done…other things to it when he wasn’t feeling upset.

He’s absolutely paranoid that you’ll find it one day, despite his aptitude at covering his tracks, so he tries not to invite you to his house as much as he can.

However, as your friendship progresses further, that’s unavoidable.

While you may not be dating yet, just know that John holds you in the highest of regards, and he’ll never let anything – including himself – hurt you.

Just ignore his eye wandering to the walk-in cupboard in the hallway; that’s just where he’s kept his imitation of you.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterpost

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[withoutyouimsaskia]

Sometimes It's Fated (Sandman Short Story Part 2)

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

​GIF: Originally posted by @harleytudinous

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: Reader Self-Insert. After restoring the Dreaming and locating the missing dreams and nightmares, Morpheus turns his attention to finding you, the human he believes fate has chosen for him. (Title inspired by Placebo's "This Picture".)

Warnings: Minors DNI. Dark!Morpheus. Soulmates. Angst. Obsessive and possessive behaviour. Tension. Threat. Dream manipulation. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Plot related cigarette use. Dubious consent.

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So I know I initially billed this as a two shot but the story has run away with me in the most lovely way. Part 3 will be coming soon. Thank you for all your kind responses to part 1, it honestly means so much to me. Hope you enjoy this one too. All my love, Saskia xx

Sandman Masterlist

---------------------------------------------

The veil of sleep comes down upon your weary body with a feather-light touch, trying to coax your mind back into the world of dreams.

Dreamscapes have been a whole new experience for you in the past month of your life. Before, you would wake with no recollection of what had played out. Not even the slightest inkling. Now, you remember everything.

They are staggering; bursting with details and ideas beyond your most outlandish daytime imaginings. The emotions that are conjured by them, both when asleep and also awake are just as bold.

And even though it's been 23 nights since it started you are still finding them predominantly jarring and disorientating. You are baffled by how other people cope with the sheer vividness. The unpredictability. Maybe they have become desensitised. You can only hope that the same will happen for you in time.

One thing you tell yourself with each sunrise:

Thank goodness they weren't nightmares.

At least, you don't think they are. There's no resemblance between yours and what you have heard others describe over the years, nor to those outlined in a dream decoding book you had checked out of the library last week. There's no obvious threat or fear. No re-living of traumatic events. Just weird subtext.

The first dream found you standing barefoot on a beach. A mirage distorted the particulars of the scene making it impossible to see further than half a meter in front of you. The temperature of the sand under your soles was verging on painful and as such, it forced you to walk into the unknown before you.

A groaning wind started to brew and lifted the sand into sparkling flurries. You shielded your eyes from the abrasive particles.

The sun was at its apex when you heard the ear splitting bangs. Unmistakably gun shots; you didn't last much longer in the dream and woke with a start.

For the next week, your dreams had been like a series of video clips edited into a supercut.

Raven wings. Black cats. Hellfire. Ruby red glow. Sprawling library shelves. Landscapes hewn by earthquake fissures. Hotel corridors. A handsome, blond haired man wearing sunglasses, holding a blood covered knife.

If you didn't know any better, you would begin to suspect that your new box of tea bags had been laced with a psychedelic. Alas, no. Your hypothesis was unequivocally disproved when you friends had been completely unaffected after stopping by for a Sunday afternoon catch up.

This quick fire of snapshots eventually stopped, transforming into lucid long form dreams. You often think back to the first one where it happened.

Standing in the the empty room, and the appearance of the figure dressed in black. The colour that had flashed in their midnight eyes had the quality of liquid silver. Sometimes you wonder if you see the same image in other dreams, standing in amongst a crowd.

From that point on, regardless of what dream you are in, you cannot shake the intuitive prickle down your spine that tells you someone is watching you.

You reason that it is nothing to be concerned about. Humans dream, and you cannot deny that some of them - swimming in a sea of clouds, re-visiting childhood haunts, trying out superpowers - have been quite fun.

You roll over on to your left side and close your eyes.

You dream.

The room you see is expansive in breadth and depth. Impressive windows bring brilliant light into the space which bounces off the ivory stone of the floors and walls. There are statues positioned at equidistant intervals, implying that the chamber is a gallery of sorts.

One effigy, fashioned from bronze, and rich in colour draws your attention. The lines and curves of its form intrigue you, despite not knowing the creature it was portraying.

You are about to move on when the feeling of being watched sparks through your skeleton.

Everything changes.

Clarity gives way to haze. Sun is swapped for moon.

You see a man across the room. He stands with a perfect posture. Graceful, powerful. His elbows are bent, fingers interlaced, palms facing upwards. Sheer black fabric floats around his frame. It moves languidly, giving glimpses of his bare body beneath.

The man's face is imperceptible. The distance between you too great but somehow you know you are the focus of his attention.

His robes fall to the floor with a gossamer sigh. The pale, unmarked skin of his slight form glows beautifully in the moonlight. You look down in embarrassment as arousal flushes through you, and you see that you are suddenly as naked as he is.

You gasp, and snap your gaze back up.

The sight you see is rather unexpected. The man is intimately touching himself.

You feel compelled to mirror him. You immediately reach between your legs. The man groans as you make contact.

All it takes is a little bit of attention on your clit before you are ready to slide two fingers into your core. The noise you make at the feeling of the stretch is salacious. The man echoes you with a sound that is just as dirty.

It spurs you on and you burrow deeper.

You curl your fingers until your legs are weak and quivering. You long to sink to your knees so you can finish in a more comfortable position yet you can't. An invisible force is preventing you.

It keeps you on display.

Just like the statues to your left.

You wonder if it is for the man's benefit.

You try to focus on him but it is impossible to do so through the trembling glaze over your eyes. All you are able to sense from him now is the sound of the rhythmic pump of his palm around his cock and his panting breaths.

Desperate whines escape your lips. You are teetering on the edge of an orgasm but you can't seem to lose your balance and fall into the abyss. The unsteadiness in your legs is too much of a distraction. You rub at your clit again in the hope that it will bring the satisfaction you need.

It does nothing.

You are so frustrated by your body's disobedience that it is almost painful.

"Please. Please. Please," you mutter under your breath.

A voice suddenly speaks next to you ear. A velvet voice with the timbre of a thunder rumble. It pours like a soothing syrup into your brain and commands you to do exactly as it bids.

"Let go."

You climax intensely, crying out in relief, squirting all over your fingers and onto your hand as you legs finally give way.

The fall jolts you back into consciousness and you wake with a barely contained scream of pleasure in your throat and adrenaline lighting up your nervous system.

Daylight is peeking through a little gap in the curtains. You take a deep, grounding breath.

That was obscene.

The context, the actions, the sounds. That sultry voice at the end. From the throbbing in your vulva and the twitching of your legs it seems like you didn't just finish in the dream.

There is really no point in looking it up in the dream decoding book.

You were clearly horny on a subconscious level. Or craving attention, hence the exhibitionist behaviour. The latter is not usually in your nature to seek out but if it is the reason, you might not have to wait long before the desire is fulfilled. There is a work event happening this evening that may require you to accept an award and address the crowd.

You love this time of year where community projects get recognition; a nomination alone is a sure-fire way of garnering publicity which in turn helps the charity's outreach.

But first, a normal day at the office. You throw back the covers and go straight to the bathroom to rinse off the evidence of your wet dream.

---------------------------------------------

Your right hand connects with the metal push plate of the function space's front door. The heels of your boots click and clack as you cross the threshold, moving from floor board to paving slab.

It's fortuitous that you brought a long, thick coat with you this evening for the wind is wintery and unforgiving. You stay close to the wall of the building to try and shelter from it as much as possible.

The pavements are slick with recent precipitation, streetlamps bouncing off of the water with caustic white light.

Then you see him; a figure cut from shadow.

He's breathing in such a laboured way that you wonder if he is sick.

Your phone is still inside the venue, currently being guarded by a colleague along with your bag but it wouldn't take long to retrieve it and call for medical assistance.

"You okay?" Concern colours the simple question.

His reply comes quickly and assertively, "I am well, thank you."

You nod, not entirely convinced for the stranger's response was as stiff as his posture, and reach inside the pocket of your coat for the box of cigarettes and lighter stashed within.

You settle one of the sticks between your lips and use your thumb to bring forth a flame. The crackle of smouldering paper and tobacco perforates the damp air and you take a needy drag. The nicotine taints and tantalises in equal measure, filling you with guilt and relief. You've been trying to give up but the little voice inside your head had won this evening. You close your eyes and focus on the pleasure it brings before flicking some ash into the tray mounted to the wall.

Your attention now back on your surroundings, the stranger steps into the scope of the streetlight. The angles of his cheekbones, jaw and nose are accentuated to an incredible extent in the gleam. His dark hair is being buffeted about the wind, locks of it very close to falling in the blue eyes that are unwaveringly trained on you. He begins to talk again, showcasing his deep baritone.

"I'm afraid I wasn't entirely honest with you just now. It is not how I envisaged our first interaction transpiring. I hope that you can forgive me for my deception."

You laugh nervously and take another quick drag. "It makes no difference if you're honest with me or not. I don't know you."

"You are correct. You don't know me. Not yet -"

"Oh," you cut in quickly. "I'm not looking for a hook up."

While you cannot deny that he is arrestingly beautiful, you are technically working and have never been one for one-night stands.

"You mistake my meaning. I have been searching for you for so long. I oftentimes doubted your existence however I was wrong and I find myself humbled to be in your presence at last."

The grandiose declaration is one of the stranger things you have heard in your life and you used to deal with drunken patrons when you worked at a university bar. Maybe he was intoxicated; it would explain a lot.

"Look, this might work on other people but I just came out here to have a cigarette -"

It is his turn to interrupt you now. "You will have no need of those going forward. Your addiction to them will be replaced by me."

"Excuse me?"

You are trying to sound incredulous, however, inside you are rather frightened by the turn the conversation has taken. His gaze is not helping either.

The crystalline eyes are embodying every part of the descriptor; a hard, chill inducing blue. Ash drops from the smouldering cigarette as a tremble of fear rattles through you. The man sees this and the ice suddenly melts to a warmer hue.

His tone turns soft and gentle. "We are supposed to be together. Our union is fated."

He's staring at you expectantly even after your two attempts at rejection. You swiftly stub out the part-finished cigarette and take ownership in ending the interaction.

"I've had enough of this. I'm going back inside now. If you try and follow me, I will speak to the venue's management. If you are still here when I leave later, I will call the police."

You turn towards the door.

He calls your name. Your full name. Middle name too.

Despite your brain chanting at you to go inside, you can't stop yourself from looking back at him. "H-how do you know my full name?"

The profound rumble of his voice resonates deep in your ears. "I know everything about you, Y/N."

He's right in front of you now. His posture is bordering between desperate and predatory. Like he can't quite decide if he is seeking comfort from you, or if he wants to consume you.

You are fumbling behind you to find the door handle. "Please get away from me," you say hoarsely.

He reaches for your hand.

You jump back and struggle to get out of his grip but his strength is inhumanly strong. His skin of his palm is glacial against yours and yet somehow, the touch makes heat snake up your arm and settle in your chest.

You become aware of an internal feeling that you've always had, like that of chapped lips. Low level but something that constantly nags. Something that existed every minute of your life until the moment he touched you.

You grip his hand and look up at his face in astonishment.

"Good. That's it. Look into my eyes. See what you know is there."

You do as he says, totally stunned by the depths that seem to reside within them. It's as if there are universes suspended inside. Maybe there are. Perhaps you could float among the celestial bodies if you asked him to show you how.

You feel so alive and overstimulated that you welcome the delirious thoughts taking over your mind.

You welcome him.

It's like there is a cord connected between your heart and his that is shortening in length. The intensity scares you.

"Give into the pull," he urges darkly, sensing your anxiety.

You obey, feet moving of their own accord and then you are standing before him, just centimetres apart.

He smiles triumphantly and presses you flush against his body.

His free hand comes up to cup your jaw, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of your neck. More heat sears through you from the additional skin-on-skin contact.

Your peripheral vision closes tighter and tighter with every passing moment. The outside world is gone.

He leans in further and you wonder hazily if he is going to kiss you or break your neck. Both options are equally viable given the behaviour he has exhibited. You keep staring at him regardless.

His irises flash silver as he intones his next sentence. "Y/N, I claim you as my soulmate."

-------------------------------------

Taglist: @herfantasyworldd @kpopgirlbtssvt

"Am I your dream girl? You think of me in bed. But you could never hold me. You like me better in your head."

[irishmammonagenda]

Hi girl!!!

I have this idea running around in my head for so long. Can you write the demon bros with little sister reader (around the teenage year)? Hear me out. She's the 8th of the family which means she's the youngest. The brothers must be overprotective of her and they would love her so much. Lucifer would have a soft spot for her. She and Mammon would be partners in crime. Then Satan will help her with her study and Asmo will love to help her do her hair. That's it 😁

Btw I love your writing...

hihi! yeah ofc i can! <3

as per usual I had no idea where this was going🧍‍♂️

but this was super fun to write as well

grma for the ask! <3

[Amazing Title]-Obey Me Brothers + Little Sister! Reader

Summary: The brothers except MC's their wee sister ig, chaos ensues. Word Count: 3.8k+ Warnings: Mentions of Death, Female Reader (she/her pronouns used) MC changes her hair length and colour when she feels like it, also she has a crush on some rando idek,

dividers by @cafekitsune

Lucifer was sick to his stomach. Long broken wings attempted to flap, ivory feathers turning black. Wounds open and bleeding. Shooting through stormy skies like a dying star.

His eyes burnt, the speed of his fall making it almost impossible to take in a breath. His lungs burnt. His heart hurt. He hadn´t understood death until Cain took the Rock to Abel, until Father took the scepter to Lilith.

Was he going to die?

He was falling.

As he tore through the sky at a damned pace, he caught a glimpse of warm bronze skin, unusually cold, stained with blood as red as the long crimson hair of his sister.

Despite the pain, despite the strain in his broken, burnt wings, he used the last of his willpower, the last of his strength, to get to the young girl.

He wrapped his hands around her, pulling her close to his chest, attempting to shield her from the fall.

"Luci?-" Lilith chokes out weakly, skin greying, holding onto her brother like a lifeline, one that was getting further away, as her grip slowly loosened. "Luci...I-im scared..."

"D-...don't be..." Lucifer manages to choke out. He could see some sembelance of land now. Some sembelance of an end to the torture of just....falling. "I'll protect you, L-Lilith."

He held on tight to her as he braced for impact, not registering that his little sister had died in his arms, that six wings became two.

He lost conciousness for a moment, hardly lucid, coming to moments later. The ringing in his ears didn't stop.

He coughed up dirt. Dust cleared to reveal two demons, as he looked around he saw crimson everywhere. Filthy fuil dearg coated the crater he'd created. Lucifer scrambled up, staring at the mangled form of what used to be his sister. Not noticing a pair of his wings at his feet. They didn't matter.

He screamed. Gently cradling the corpse, looking up at the Demon Prince with eyes filled with firey fearg, "Save her! Bring her back! Help her..!" He shouts, anger fading to desperation.

The prince regards him with a sort of impassivity, after backs and forths and emotions unravelling, the Demons agree to revive his precious sister as a human, provided Lucifer swears his loyalty, makes a vow with a heavy heart.

"I Lucifer Morningstar....swear absolute loyalty to Lord Diavolo, Prince of Hell."

"Very good."

With a snap of the Demon Butler's finger, his sister disappeared, a screech erupted, but it wasn't from Lucifer. Turning behind him, the disgraced angel saw one of the wings he had barely registered splitting from him---too focused on the pain of losing his sister than the pain of losing his wings,-- the now black mass of feathers morphed and grew like bubbling tar, emitting screeches.

The creature that formed of it, pale of skin, blond of hair, its face contorted in a pain Lucifer felt was a part of him. The demon races, screeching with a fury unbridled. Destruction followed it.

The Demon Prince and Butler watch on with intrigue whilst Lucifer tries to keep from breaking down a second time. The sound of whistling through the air alerts him of his other brothers falling. He looks up, hoping to see where they landed.

Somewhere amongst the vast Devildom. He had to find them. He couldn't handle another death, another loss. Despite his disgrace, his deportation from the only home he'd ever known, he prays to Father one last time, that his brothers were alive.

"There's no need. I will attend to the fallen angels now." The butler says serenely, both him and the Demon Prince disappearing within a moment's notice. Although the latter was more hesitant.

The creature of his wing is still screeching, like a coyote on the prowl, but inherently more sinister. It bites and screams, eyes filled with a murderous rage, one it directs towards Lucifer, as it comes charging at him like a bull of the plaza de toros.

Lucifer takes a step back, His foot hitting something soft and quishy. He pauses, the thing cries. The wails of a newborn cutting through the thick air like a knife, the creature of his wing stops screeching, tilting its head and staring down at the ground.

Lucifer gently picks you up. Cradling you in his arms. He looks to both you and the Creature of Wrath, both so inherently different, both his.

He looks into your eyes for a moment, such a tiny demon, more suited to be an angel, so unlike the pure cantankerousness of the older of the two creatures of his wings.

Lucifer, in the throws of his grief, made two vows that day, the first an oath of absolute loyalty to the Demon Prince, the second, a móid to always protect you.

You tapped your pen against the desk, biting the inside of your cheek as you stared down at your textbook. Shoulder length black hair tied in a low ponytail so it wasn't pouring over your face as you worked. You sighed in defeat, set your pen down and looked up at your two older brothers who were sitting opposite you, and planning out what looks to be another failed prank.

Satan and Belphie had their heads together, murmuring rather animatedly amongst eachother. You snorted, leaning over the table, your sudden movement catches their attention as you stare up at them, your head tilted.

"What about a whoopie cushion?" You ask softly, Belphie makes a face.

"We are not using...human...pranks, we're demons." He snorts, "We have more class than that."

You pout, Satan pinches him from under the table. His green eyes looking dotingly at you, like he would a cat. Coincidentally, he pats your head, ruffling your hair. "I think a simple human world prank could be entertaining to try." He says, giving Belphie a look, the Seventh Born raises his hands lazily in defeat, before leisurely sliding over the table to sit beside you, you quickly flipped to a blank page in your notebook, lest your older brother see the doodles you'd absentmindedly scribbled of you and your crush, a demon from your Devildom History Class.

Satan writes 'Whoopie Cushion' in cursive on their blueprint plans, tongue sticking out ever so slightly, before going back to his own homework. Belphie leans his head on your shoulder, dozing off.

"How did Fear Gorta come to fruition as an entity in the Human Realm?" You read off of your paper, Satan looks up from his essay for seductive speechcraft--a class which you were too young to take--he blinks for a moment, before setting his fountain pen down, and taking up the seat on the other side of you.

Belphie looks over at you tiredly, stretching his arms.

"Need any help?"

"Need any help?"

They glare at each other playfully, you nod.

Satan takes the textbook from you for a moment, reading the question aloud again.

"Fear Gorta are said to rise from Féar Gortach....sometimes they're just people who died of starvation near Sídhe hills." Satan begins to explain, watching as you nod along.

"They were said to go around with a bowl for begging or almsgiving...travelling, knocking on doors, asking for food." Belphie interjects lazily, head still on your shoulder. "They could hardly keep the bowl from dropping, because they were so weak."

You nod, writing it down, you'd always had trouble simplifying long texts down to their key parts, something Lucifer had assured you would come with time. It was a good thing you had your brothers. They were always willing to help you with homework.

"But what about that has to do with the Fear Gorta coming to fruition in the Human Realm?" You ask, feeling a little dumb.

Satan clears his throat, "Well, some Devildom and Human Scholara believe that the Fear Gorta is what brought the Famine to Ireland. Supposedly, just before the Great Famine, he emerged after a battle of the Fae near Cnoc Meadha."

You scribble that down, your tongue sticking out slightly, an idiosyncrasy developed from your older brother.

Belphie hums, eyes closed, and breathing so even you thought he was asleep. "Mhm, but others believe he's a personification of An Gorta Mór, or the Great Famine himself. That the people of Ireland made him up during the 1840s as a way of coping with and explaining the potato blight."

Upon seeing your confused face, Satan chuckles, "Essentially, the Fear Gorta is an example of how Human suffering can cause mythological beings to be thought up, and how with enough Human Manifestation, they can truly become something that exists."

As if to emphasize, Satan takes a random pen and a scrap piece of paper, drawing little doodles with the summarising he and Belphie had just did.

"Thanks Satan! Thanks Belphie!" You grin, taking the scrap piece of paper, using it to help you jot down the rest of your notes, finally understanding, you begin to answer the question, making a mental note to not let Mammon see the drawings that Satan drew, ever.

It takes a total of ten minutes of pens scratching against paper, Belphie's soft snores, and the dull drill of your own thoughts before you set your pen down, and look up grinning at Satan.

"So...about the prank you're planning..."

The next morning, all decked out in your RAD uniform, you sit on a poof and stare at your reflection in the luxurious vanity. You had decided on long hair, a dark pink so deep it was almost red. That was one of the búntáistí of having the Avatars of Lust and Wrath as brothers, you knew all the best spells for hair, and boy did you exploit that fact.

Short hair? No problem. Long hair? Alright then. Curly? Straight? Wavy? Ask and you shall receive.

Not to mention, Asmo would style your hair, no matter the length, shade or texture, and he would always make it look gorgeous Which was exactly what he was doing now, a gentle comb being ran down your hair, before your brother begins to braid strands in an intercate half-up, half-down pattern.

It's always relaxing when your 5th oldest brother does your hair, always conscious of not hurting you, you let your mind wander.

And wander your mind does, twisting and turning while travelling through the crevices of your brain, eventually coming to a stop at its destination, which just so happened to be the demon in your Devildom History class. They made you feel giddy, with their shoulder length, layered turquoise hair and purposely messy black eye shadow in place of the usual clean cut liquid eyeliner.

"Something on your mind, hon?" Asmo asks concerned as he puts a soft, black bow in your hair, you had been unfocused for a while now.

"Its nothing!" You say a little too defensively, your older brother gives you a knowing look, perfectly threaded eyebrows raising ever so slightly before he gasps and grins excitedly, holding back a squeal.

"Oh!~ And just who is this nothing, honey?~" He asks, you cover your face in your hands and groan, mortification dripping over you as Asmo finishes up on your hair.

Once your hair is done, you rush out, so as not to give the Avatar of annoying you lust any more ammo to tease you with.

Unluckily for you, Asmo was very environmentally friendly, and could make his own ammo.

Your mortification however, is not as short-lived as you'd hoped it would be.

Upon entering the dining room, you make a beeline for Mammon, your partner in crime, and sit beside your 2nd oldest brother, who laughs at you.

"Ye look like yer goin' to a Feis!" He laughs, slapping his knees ad doubled over, you pout and Lucifer, who sat directly diagonal to Mammon at the head of the table slapped him up the back of the head, leaving the avatar of greed choking and spluttering on his own spit.

"S-sorry MC..." He says in between coughs, "Ya look lovely..." He gives you an awkward side hug before resuming his activity of choking to death. You turn to the rest of your brothers as they trickle in, Levi was having an anime marathon, and for the sake of the Devildom seas, and the House of Lamentation not flooding for the nth time, he was allowed to stay in his room, provided he ate something of nutritional value, which meant that some time in the next few hours Lucifer would come into the 3rd born's room with a bowl of freshly cut fruit and force the otaku to eat it.

He was such a mother hen.

Speaking of Lucifer....

"MC," Lucifer drawls, catching your attention. "I received your bi-weekly report last night, you did well in all subjects, though I've noticed your History scores have gone down..." Your eldest brother sets his fork down fully and leans in a little closer to you, only a little bit of concern and a whole lot of care in his eyes, no judgement whatsoever. "Are you not understanding the course material? Would you like me to help you with your work? Or we could get you a tutor."

Asmo leans in to your conversation, eye glittering mischievously, he had taken a little longer to come down to breakfast than he usually did. You were sure he eliminated all of the options and knew exactly what demon you were crushing on.

"Now now Luci!~" He interjects, earning a soft glare from Lucifer, "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, MC's just a little bit....distracted..." He puts his hands on your shoulders.

Lucifer's eyes widen ever so slightly, Belphie and Satan exchange knowing glances, Beel blinks slowly, were you having trouble focusing in class?

Mammon discreetly opens his DDD under the table, if you were having trouble focusing, he knew a few guys who sold some pretty good remedies for that.

You groan, quickly scarfing down the rest of your breakfast before grabbing Mammon and running out the door, your older brother yelling in confusion.

6 other brothers watch you leave, before turning to Asmo.

Belphie is the first to speak, "Alright, who is it?"

"Who's what?" Beel tilts his head, Belphie turns to him with a smile.

"MC has a crush on someone in her History class."

"Oh, okay." Beel turns to Asmo, "Who is it?"

You and Mammon arrive at RAD unusually early, on account of you essentially fleeing the breakfast table like an escaped convict and dragging your brother with you.

Mammon wasn't annoyed at all, despite his outward act, in actuality, he was delighted. You had picked him to drag out of a chair and run with you?! That meant he must be your favourite big brother! His chest puffs out with pride as you both chatter whilst he walks you to your form class. What type of favourite big brother would he be if he let his little sister walk down the scary hallways of school alone?!

"And then Satan said-" You stop uncerimonously when you catch sight of who's at the other end of the corridor, a blush coating your cheeks, barely noticeable on your skin, hardly even there, but Mammon still picked up on it.

"Hey, twerp, what's up wi' ye?" He asks, examining the hallway, taking notice of the only other demon there.

With a baggy dark denim jacket adorned in pins pulled over their RAD uniform, headphones snapped over their ears, messy turquoise hair cascading down their tanned face. The demon is young--Mammon notices--they look around the same age as you, maybe slightly older.

As they get closer and spot MC, they grin, silver braces shining in the light of the RAD hallway. "Hiya MC! You´re in early!" The demon calls out to you, Mammon notes how you swallow thickly before waving shyly at the demon in question as they approach the pair of you.

The demon goes to rub their eyes, but upon remembering the messy yet purposeful placement of black eyeshadow acting as eyeliner, they stop and pout for just a moment before looking at MC and grinning, eyes as grey as stone flickering to Mammon for just a moment, the demon looks to you and raises one of their thick, dark eyebrows.

"This one of your brothers, MC?" They ask, gaze flickering between you and your brother like a faulty lightbulb.

"O-oh uh...yes! Mammon this is C-Caelus....Caelus this is Mammon..." You introduce them.

"Oh, please, call me Cael, everyone does!" They smile politely at Mammon reaching out to shake his hand, Mammon, bites the inside of his cheek to stop his jaw from dropping. You had a....crush on Cael didn't you?"

"Oh aye." Is all he can manage to say.

Cael nods, before turning completely to face you, they eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly, "So, how come you're in early today?..Nice hair by the way!" They run a hand through their dark turquoise hair, messing it up with their long fingers.

"Oh uh thanks Cael!" You bite your lip, trying to figure out what to say next. "I was thinking of getting in early and studying for the test next week...." You lie, though it did sound like a good idea. No way were you explaining the fiasco that was Breakfast.

Mammon watches like a crow, stopping himself from cooing. You were so adorable! His favourite little dickhead's first crush! They grow up so fast!

He cringes internally, thinking, 'What the actual fuck, I sound like Asmo.'

After another moment, he interupts your conversation to tell you that he needs to go, you nod and say goodbye, before continuing to talk to Cael and trying to keep your blushing under control.

Mammon tredges to the courtyard before whistling.

"Hiya Éan!" He coos to the crow that lands perched on his shoulders, the bird looks unamusedly at him, its been a year and the avian was still judging him for the name choice! "Oh stop yer yappin'...." At the unimpressed look Éan gives him, his eyelid twitches. "Well, I know yer gurnin' internally...don't think I'm dim."

Éan caws.

"Look, I need ye ta do somethin' for me, so I do." Mammon groans at the crows shaking of its head. "I'm not askin' ye to assassinate anyone! I just need ye to keep an eye on this one wee demon in m'sister's class..."

Éan blinks, before leaning in closer to Mammon, he pets its head, it leans into the touch.

"Right so listen up, their name's Caelus...but people call 'em Cael...I need ye to keep an eye on them and give me a report back in a day or so, we clear?"

Éan lets out a quiet caw.

"Great!"

After a long day of RAD, you waled into the attic, where Satan and Belphie were unboxing whoopie cushions. Or rather Satan was unboxing whoopie cushions and Belphie was watching him lazily.

"Hi MC." Belphie smiles at you before gesturing to sit beside him, so you do.

"I thought you said my human world pranks were stupid." You look at Belphie.

"I've decided that since I'm such a good role model, I'll give it a go."

You deadpan, about to say something before a bellowing laugh erupts from Satan.

"You? A good role model?" The 4th born wipes a tear from his eye. "What's next? Lucifer breaking up with Lord Diavolo?"

"I don't think they're dating Satie…" You butt in.

Belphie smirks, "Then why are they so gay?"

"He is the Avatar of Pride, I guess." You shrug.

And with that, Satan picks up the whoopie cushion and the three of you begin your descent down the staircase to Lucifer's office. With you making small talk to distract them from Asmo's words in the morning.

You reach Lucifer's office, but now you need to draw him out. Satan walks in.

"Hello Lucifer."

"Your prank's not going to work." Lucifer puts his pen down.

Satan puts a hand over his heart in mock offence. "No, I saw a cat on the streets walking home and I want to adopt it." He says, not even lying.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't need one."

Satan feels wrath bubble up inside him, before he makes a risky move, knowing he needs Lucifer out of his office so you can place the whoopie cushion. "Well if I don't need a cat then you don't need your paperwork!"

He reaches forward and grabs the official documents on Lucifer's desk then bolts.

Lucifer jolts up out of his seat and races after him, out of the office.

That's your cue, quick as a thief on the hunt, you run into your eldest brother's office, and place the whoopie cushion down on his seat, you did it!

"Are you having fun, MC?" Lucifer asks, you jump. Turning around you see a slightly disheveled Lucifer staring at you, eyebrow raised and holding slightly crinkled papers. You back away.

"I wasn't doing anything!" You lie obviously.

"Hmm. Sure….now as for your punishment….I've already strung Satan up in the enterance hall, and I'm certain Belphie has gone somewhere to sleep, when he wakes up he will be appropriately disciplined of course…." He moves closer to you. "Now as for you….." Lucifer clicks his fingers and a desk and chair appear, the waves of magic pushing you into it.

You're going to sit there until I've finished my work. No DDD."

You groan, but don't complain, if it was anyone else out of your brothers, Lucifer would have strung them up like he did with Satan.

An hour goes by, though it seems like several to you, as you're bored out of your mind. Lucifer sets his pen down and stares at you.

"Now, tell me about this Caelus."

You stiffen, knowing better than to lie to your eldest, and strictest brother. "They uh-they're a demon in my class…"

Lucifer raises an eyebrow, prompting you to continue, "And what's this I'm hearing about you having a crush on them?"

"Asmo!" You gurn, covering your face in your hands.

"Asmo and Mammon, actually." Lucifer's lips twitch upwards. "Do you have anything to day for yourself?"

"I won't do drugs."

"MC."

"Okay fine! They're a good demon, I promise! I don't even know if I wanna ask them out yet!"

Lucifer's eyes soften, seeing you now, sitting at a desk, complaining about love…he can't help but be reminded of a different person in a different realm long ago, long passed.

"I trust you, but be careful, okay?"

You nod, something churns in Lucifer's stomach as he looks at you, gracefully moving over to you, and pulling you into a soft hug, arms wrapping around you protectively, as if shielding you from the elements.

"And if ever, you need any help whatsoever, come to me? You understand?"

You nod.

"Say it."

"I understand Luci."

Lucifer smiles, ruffling your hair. "I will always protect you MC."

AND WE'RE DONE!!! this was honetly fun to write, i had no idea where i was going with this and i'm sorry if it doesn't make any sense 🧍‍♂️

fuil (pronounced 'full') means blood, móid (maw-d-ge) means vow or promise, 'to make a vow' would translate to 'móid a thabhairt' (maw-d-ge ah how-ert-ch)

éan (pronounced 'ane') means bird. idk i thought it was funny

[mrsbuckybarnes1917]

← Smutlet masterlist

18+ Pining

Bucky wasn’t sure if it was his memory or just his imagination, but he always found you intriguing. He was sure that you would be able to entertain him for hours on end, even though the chances that you would talk to him were pretty bleak. Steve was the only one who had noticed and Bucky was glad that he had kept his comments to himself, even when he had caught Bucky’s blue eyes constantly searching for your presence, lingering over you when he finally found you.

But of late, you had been invading his mind more often than not. You occupied his waking thoughts and penetrated his dreams. The first time you had visited his dreams, it had been relatively innocent, standing in front of him in a yellow summer dress accentuating your perfectly toned figure. He had woken with a gasp and his cock pointing to the ceiling. Why did it have to be you?

Bucky had seen you working out with the other SHIELD agents, training, lifting, sparring with your colleagues. Your movements were akin to water, the fluidity with which you ducked and weaved, he wondered how you would move on top of him. How he longed to know what he would find under that tiny tank top you sported, under the lycra material which clung to your hips and thighs.

Since he had found you in the gym alone, training alone, he had started avoiding those times, instead he chose to use it in the wee hours of the morning or late into the night. Anything to try and shake you from his consciousness and evict you from his lucid dreams. A part of him wanted to hate you, ever since he had met you, a feeling of loneliness snaked into his heart, how it lingered under his skin. Every thought of you, every dream, he knew one day he wouldn’t be able to stop himself, and then there would be no going back.

Bucky growled quietly, but not quietly enough for him to go completely unnoticed. Several agents, including Steve, turned to glance at him. Steve shot him a warning glance but Bucky only scowled back at him. Of all the briefings Steve had forced him to attend, why did it have to be you leading it? The way you stood in the spotlight, you were literally shining. Your voice was as sweet as nectar, your skin glowed under the fluorescent beams of the meeting room and your smile dazzled everyone in the room into an enchanted silence. Why was the strain in his pants becoming so unbearable?

He was lucky his services weren’t required and he was the first to leave the meeting room, a scowl etched across his features and briefing file pressed against his crotch. He was so intent on his departure, that he missed the way Steve rolled his eyes at him and the look of shock and disappointment on your face.

Once locked in the safety of his quarters, Bucky slid his right arm under his shirt, fingertips grazing his lower abdomen. He hesitated for a few moments before pushing his hand into his pants and curling his digits around his sizable length. He was free to let out the groan of frustration. His tongue moistened the corners of his mouth, held gently between his teeth as he concentrated on freeing his cock from its restraints. He was almost shocked by the clear viscous fluid that was coating the swollen head of his cock. Almost. His lips turned up at the edges as he took his thumb and smeared the precum over his growing length.

“Fuck,” he grunted, finding a little relief to the tension that had been building inside him. He palmed himself roughly, closing his eyes, trying to imagine that it's your silky walls sheathing his member, rather than the reality of his calloused hand pumping it over and over. He pushed his pants down over his knees with his vibranium hand, letting him spread his legs. Better access to himself as he swiped through memories of you in his mind. Flicking from that time you had smiled at him, another when your fingers had brushed his when Steve had asked you to hand him a mission brief, that time he had watched your sparring session. That was it, that was the one!

The way you pinned your opponent to the ground. He was twice your size. You held his hands down and Bucky’s cock had twitched when he saw how your thighs gripped his. His insides burning with envy, he wanted to know how you felt and now he used that recollection to fabricate his fantasy. Bucky's restraint was wavering, his bottom lip buried between his teeth as stifled moans emanated from his mouth.

He could practically see your perky rounded breasts floating in front of him. What he wouldn't give to reach out and knead them in his palms, to taste your nipples, to have you pressed against his chest. Bucky groaned, thrusting his hips upwards into his hand, if only it was you he was pushing up into. He imagined the whimpers and moans you would make as he hit all the right places. Oh, to hear his name tumble from your lips!

Bucky's breaths were shallow now, panting furiously as his orgasm approached. He had lost all his inhibitions, becoming more vocal about his desires.

“Oh fuck, Doll, just like that. Look how beautiful you are. I love you like this.”

It was the image of your eyes, the thought of looking into them, it sent him over the edge. His hand pumping, chest heaving and eyes squeezed shut as the all too familiar coil in his center snapped, sending him reeling. His movements slowed, sloppier than they had been as his body relaxed and spurts of milky white elixir erupted from his cock and painted his chiseled abs.

Bucky took a few moments to regain his composure, a feeling of unease settling in his chest. Maybe one day you wouldn't be just a fantasy.

[chiliyue-archived]

Self care

↬dressing his wounds/scars

includes; dazai x gn!reader

entry; ❛ just relax and let me take care of you. ❜

[Event Navi | M.list] | [Bsd M.List] ♡

dazai wanted to chagrin.

the scars littering his arms gawk back at him tauntingly, provoking a surge of memories to consume him in a numbing pulp. but it was hard to remain wrap in his own demons, not when he felt compelled to copy the smile plaster on your lips. it was the very one he came to be smitten over.

you were seated in his lap, the bathroom too tiny to accommodate the pair of you but he hardly seemed dejected by it. if anything, a grin began to play on his lips when you held onto his shoulders for support, shifting until you got a good angle to work with. " hold still."

he nods, waiting patiently as you brush your lips on his nose and reel away. he stops the urge to bring you back, finding content in just having you close with a hand settling on your back.

he does revel at the glances you steal from him - attention divided between dressing the molded wounds and risking a look. he relishes in the way you display a lift in your lips whenever you catch his familiar brown orbs - only for him to poke your cheeks before you could stray too far from your adjective. and when you went to brush aside the loose hairs that tickle your forehead, his hand was already in the process of tucking it behind your ear for you. his fingers linger a second longer each time - reluctance growing like a tide before holding onto your shoulder.

" my own personal nurse," he sighs, leaning close enough to press his lips on some part of you. the laugh you sent him was infectious.

he found it terribly even cuter, however, how your face became scrunched up as you handle the materials with foucs or when the putrid waft of antiseptic permeated your cramped bathroom. he was sure to kiss the pinched area whenever he saw the crease form, brightening in how it disappears. but internally he prays this wasn't the work of a lucid dream.

the hands on his face tell him otherwise, your thumb trailing the apples of his cheeks and reminding him that you're right there with him.

it was almost easy to forget how vulnerable he was setting himself up to be. almost.

" i'm gonna start."

the grin that found itself on his lips when you first cuddled up nearly fades as soon as you start fiddling with the gauze in your fingers, peeling back his shield and revealing flesh that has been long voided of light. it was instead replace with an anticipatory flutter in his heart, trompering in his sternum as though ero's own blessing was bestowed upon him in that moment.

" does this hurt?" he watched as you carefully ran your fingers over the scars - almost ghostly in its approach.

"it doesn't," he admitted.

"perfect."

and for the first time in so long, skin that has been starved of human touch became filled with vitality again. he wanted to shudder at the exposure, and he felt as though your reassuring rubs were the only thing keeping him from running away. he was so accustomed to patching himself up that it almost felt unreal to how welcoming your touch was.

even when he supposedly got use to it, he still has to suppress the urge to recoil when you feather against him for nth time, shivers riveting along with his spine and eyes squeezing shut.

your hands were so much softer than his, he mentally notes. he couldn't help but be mildly entranced when you handle the material with a steadiness unmatched to his own. you were treating him far better than he has ever and will presumably ever treat himself.

" you're getting distracted." he remarks with a poke to your forehead when he catches you staring again. it was futile to resist the twitch in his mouth that when you bat your eyelashes at him, an unsullied face gleaming unapologetically.

"sorry, you're just handsome." he swallows the lump in his throat but he was powerless to subdue the warmth that flickers in his chest cavity, meandering to the other cold parts in his body.

a form of silence furnishes the bathroom as you coil the new gauze around his arms, mindful to not produce any discomfort. it takes everything in his willpower to not shake when you lean down to capture the covered area in a kiss.

"do you find me handsome with these scars?"

dazai finds himself sucking in a breath when you smile against his second skin. "even more so."

"not many would agree with you."

he blinks when you suddenly shift the limb in your hands, sparing only a quick glance at him as you shuffle closer. and you really surprised him this time. very quickly, his pensive gaze dissipates with a shiver trembling along his body, fingers flexing in your grasp when you capture his knuckles this time in a kiss.

he swore he felt the breath in his throat was about to squeeze away, brain too hazy to recognize anything else. his stupor was accentuated when you blinked at him, irses meeting his own through your eyelashes.

" they're wrong."

"you're so certain?" you nod, moving to kiss the corner of his mouth.

in an effort to garner control the situation, he hand slips to clasp your chin gently, maneuvering your head until your lips met. you savor the way his breath prickles your lower lip, something akin to a breathy hum emulating from him. it's timbre ricochet along from the chaste kiss, jolting your nerves.

you're too engrossed in the exchange to notice the way his fingers weaved into your palm properly, exposed wrist meeting yours. he lets out a sigh as he felt the pulse echo against his, rhythm growing in sync to each other perpetually.

when he withdrew, he didn't let you get too far, a hand resting on your nape and keeping in proximity. his pinky and thumb played with baby hairs, lazy motions in contrast to his palpitating nerves. he was close enough to rest his forehead on yours, eyes peering down to watch you dress the rest of him.

"now, just relax and let me take care of you. okay?"

"okay." you saw him smile in the corner of your eyes, paired with a squeeze of your hand. you couldn't help but reciprocate the same gesture, and once again, the same tickling came to fill his barren husk. he smiles, reaching out to sweep your loose strands aside when it came to sweep over your eyes again but he stills when you capture the limb in your hand. he blinks hard as you adjoin it to your lips, placing a butterfly kiss on each pad.

"you have the most beautiful hands and fingers." he freezes knowing if he wasn't cautious he could reach the cusp of breaking down at any moment. "i could hold your hands forever."

as though proving your point you offer him a tight squeeze - but inwardly the squeezing of his chest was far more pronounce.

he attempts to collect himself with an exaggerated breath. "you're too good for me," he whispers. "i might get addicted to this."

your lips brush on his forehead and he almost shakes, unable to do nothing more than recline into you until it was just impossible.

"good" you hum. "you're also very pretty."

for the first time since he entered the bathroom, a swatch of red began to streak his cheeks. it certainly felt inevitable now with your ceasless antics, not that he didn't complain - the guilty and almost shaky grin that came to his lips was telling of that. notably; it was absent of the mischievous gleam that commonly orbits him; instead, it spoke both of his gratitude and effervescent affections that brew rampant the more you indulge him.

dazai allows his head to fall forward; forehead meeting your collarbone. his fanning breath reminds you of his presence, even when he grows silent as you curl the bandges into its proper orientation. he angles his head just enough for his ear to rest right over your chest.

you could barely hear the words that left him, voice just loud enough to cut the calming ambiance. "you're pretty too."

the thrum of your heart echoing in his lobe, pair with the heedful glides of your hands reaches a form of pinnacle for him; weighing him down to the city of yokohama, in your shared tiny cramp bathroom and encompassing care, covering him with a duvet so thick he could feel his eyes grow heavy.

but he wonders if you knew just how heavy his heart was for you.

-

this was really out of my comfort zone and style but I really like it :) giving all lowercase a try ! i like how causal it feels

anyways, i have a lot of dazai works brewing (and some tecchou :>)

taglist; @eynnwwyjth @anqelically @seisitive @iheartpieck @seiiblue @averagebsdwatcher @solandis

be added or removed here ♡