#also rake brush my beloved

[cherrytraveller]

colgera better watch out, stay frosty❄️

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[theelvishfiddler]

Amongst the Branches

The full illustration I made for the cover of “Ruins” my LoZ fanart collection.

🌸  Ko-Fi  🌸  Inprnt  🌸

[snailto0th]

I missed their birthday because I’m a terrible person so happy late birthday to Finn and Fern! Will I finish rendering Fern? Who knows :)

Some zoomed in screenshots to show detail under the cut:

I did not crop these equally do not look too close LMAOO

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀cowboy!matt x farmer's daughter!reader

based off this bot here. cowboy!matt my beloved. warnings / smut, oral (m!receiving), naive!reader, virgin!afab!reader, p in v, pet names (sugar, darlin', sweet girl, baby, pretty baby etc.) i know nothing about horses so like. THIS IS LONG 😭😭 no clue how many words idk long. cum on. ass !!!!!

"you've got a good heart, darlin'," matt's voice is gentle, warm. characterised by that accent, words oozing out of his mouth like fresh honey. his blue eyes linger on you for a moment, he's trying hard to not rake them over you, to look over your curves beneath the denim of your overalls. you're adorable. the bows on the buttons and all. he's taken a little off guard by the sight of you looking at him with those soft features, his attention grabbed again by your words.

you let out a soft squeak when he grasps at your chin gently, calloused fingers from hard work against your skin. a small smile adorns your lips at the touch, eyes searching his for a moment. matt wishes the absolute best for you, he really does. he wants to ruin you—but maybe also take you away from this shitty farm. "just.. wanted to be nice, 'n' helpful, y'know?" you tell him, rolling your shoulders in a shrug.

"but thank you," you add afterwards, a giggle bubbling from your lips. matt feels that familiar pang of warmth in his heart at the sight and sound of it.

fuck, he's done for.

he notices how quiet you are, seemingly nervous and thinking of something to say. a small smirk adorns his lips for a moment. he goes to speak. however you get to it first—"what's their name?" matt glances over and sees you're staring at his horse. a soft gleam sparkles in his eyes and he's more than happy to tell you whatever you please about his best girl.

the smile on his face grows wider at your interest, and he adjusts his cowboy hat, looking back at his mustang too. "mmh? 'er name's angel, my pretty little mustang, hm?" he lifts a hand to brush over her mane, quiet for a minute before he looks back over to you. "wanna brush her f'me, darlin'?" he asks, already rummaging in his saddle bag for the brush.

your eyes light up instantly, and you're practically finding the brush for him with how excited you are. "yeah, please?" your head nods fervently, fingers fiddling with the straps of your overalls as you eye the brush he comes up with.

there's a soft, breathy laugh that escapes him at your excitement at the prospect of brushing his angel. a soft hum comes from him and he nods his head. he swears he can feel his heart aching in his chest with every glance at you. you're too cute. he's gonna pick you up and never let you go, he swears.

"all yours, sugar," he tells you, smiling as he hands the brush to you. he holds the eye-contact, searching your gaze for a minute. "be real gentle, now," his words are soft, voice warm as he guides you over to angel. "she's a sweet girl, the sweetest, but she'll get antsy if you're too rough. she's a diva like that. got it, baby?"

honestly, you know exactly how to brush a horse since you do it nearly every damn day on your dad's farm, however because he sounds so sweet and is beinf so sweet, plus he called you baby? yeah, you'll pretend like you've bever seen a horse in your entire life. taking the brush, you nod your head, "got it," the feel of his hands on your arms makes a warmth flutter in your stomach.

this is his horse, so you're extra careful with angel, murmuring quietly, "you're really pretty," as if the horse could hear you. this makes matt's heart melt where he is, and his tongue darts out to lick over his bottom lip for a moment. matt leans back against the wooden fence, both hands grasping at the top as he watches you brush angel's sleek coat, his blue eyes fluttering over the two of you. his best girls.

"gettin' all loved up on her, ain't you, sweet girl?" he muses quietly, his words are light hearted, eyes tracking your every movement.

"i love her," you affirm, a smile playing on your lips once more as you look to angel again. she's whinnying and leaning towards your touch, content beneath the brush. when you look back at matt, you murmur, "she's adorable." matt nods in agreement, a soft sigh escaping him.

when you're done, you look the mustang over for a minute, glance back at matt, then back again. you're quiet again, thinking about what it'd be like to ride her, but you shake yourself out of your thoughts soon after. matt's brows cock for a moment. "she's the prettiest, ain't she?" he takes back the brush, putting it onto the fence by where he was before he steps up behind you. he can't help but place his hands on your hips.

he draws you back against him, squeezing at your hips for a moment with draws the line between appropriate and well, inappropriate, a lot closer. "you wanna ride her, don't you, sugar?" he feels you relax against him, almost immediately, and he meets your gaze for a minute. seeing you nod, a soft, amused smile settles on his lips again. "daddy doesn't let me ride our horses," a frown settles on his lips at your words.

another quiet hum rumbles in his chest when he feels you lean against him. matt's grip on your hips tightens, and he's resisting the urge to tug you back against him.

"course can, pretty girl," he says gently, tilting your head up for a minute. "daddy ain't here. i am. so, c'mere, now. let me help you up."

you're practically beaming when he says that. he's so damn sweet, you're realising. maybe you really are into cowboys. and really, you hadn't met many guys before, but regardless, he's so damn sweet. "daddy ain't here, you are," you agree, nodding your head. you can get with that logic.

god damn it, you're sweet.

"atta girl," he murmurs, coaxing you closer to angel. he had to admit he's having some very impure thoughts the moment he gets his hands on you, helping you up onto angel's saddle. he's quiet for a minute. you look so damn good up there, on his mustang. thank god for these cowboy pants because damn, he's straining a little here.

he wanted to settle you somewhere other than the saddle, definitely.

matt hops up too, sitting behind you. his chest comes flush against your back, the urge to run his hands over your body is palpable but he holds off. he sees the way you shiver a little, and he asks, "you doin' good, darlin'?" his words are soft. "not gettin' scared, are you?"

admittedly, yeah, you are. you feel so tall and high up, having never been at this height before. however the feel of angel beneath you, unmoving, not budging, makes you feel better. and matt's hands on you too. "ain't gonna let you fall, baby. i'll take good care of you."

"okay," you nod your head, leaning back against matt. feeling angel start to move beneath you, you grasp onto the reins. the mustang trots beneath the two of you, making some ground as she wanders about a bit. this makes you relax, it isn't as scary as you thought. besides, matt behind you, holding you tight, there's no way you'd get hurt.

matt could barely focus with your body against his, ass flush against his crotch and practically grinding back against him every minute or so. but he knew he had to be responsible and keep you safe, so he tries to calm the thoughts running through his head at that moment. thinking about how he wanted you bent over a hay bale beneath him wasn't exactly a good idea considering he had your safety to focus on. "you like it?"

you can feel matt's hands on your stomach, warm and gentle. his voice is low in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and your hands tightening on angel's reins. "feels good, pretty thing?" he murmurs, and you nod, though unsure whether he was talking about riding around on angel or his touch on your body. albeit, it's definitely both. "yeah," you say quietly to his words, glancing around the field idly for a moment. "daddy shoulda' let me ride horses earlier, this is amazin'."

the farm looked so pretty. the sunset glowing down onto the grass and the two of you, the fruit trees swaying idly and the faint sounds of the animals in the barn only adding to everything. plus, you had a cute cowboy helping you ride his horse. it's the most free you'd been in.. well, ever.

a shiver goes down his spine too at how relaxed you are, how gentle your words are. his mind's spinning, you're so damn soft. it's like you're meant to be against him, your body moulding perfectly into his. he keeps his hand firm against your stomach, before he speaks up again.

"you know.." that gets your attention and you look back at him, "i wanna show you somethin', pretty baby, you trust me?"

despite the fact that that you'd only talked to matt a little bit, this being your first ever proper meeting, you did trust him. perhaps you were naïve (you are) but you were enjoying his company and he radiated warmth. "uh, yeah, alrighty," might also be the warmth of his hands against you clouding your judgement but he does seem genuinely caring and compassionate. "i trust you."

a grin settles on his face the moment he sees your agreement, and he gently encases your hands on angel's reins, bringing his body closer against yours. that's it, you're doing so well.

"s'not far," he assures you, spurring angel forward so she leads the two of you away from the farm. you glance back almost immediately, lashes fluttering against your cheeks. it's getting late out, but you were sure matt'd bring you back before your daddy started to worry, so you settle against angel and continue riding.

you couldn't remember the last time you'd been outside the farm, to be completely honest. and you're sure matt can feel the excitement rolling off of you as angel leads you both further and further from the farm. the sun is setting, slowly but surely, purpley pinks and golden oranges glowing down on you. matt's eyes drift over you, how damn pretty you look under the sun's rays. he's so taken by you. finally, the two of you make it to a little clearing. though, in the centre is an old, worn down barn. how charming.

matt helps you off the horse, hands grasping at your waist as he sets you down onto the grass. "s'got character," you say, finding the nice things in the otherwise.. a tad bit run down exterior. maybe he's thinking too far ahead, he could be, but he could imagine you and him fixing up the place, making it your own one day. the two of you admire it for a moment, the charm and whimsy of it.

he keeps his hands on your waist despite the fact he doesn't need to, his hands smoothing over the denim of your overalls. his grip keeps you against his chest, and he's quiet, just taking you in. "right, c'mere," he says finally, urging you foreard with a nudge of your hips and coaxes you forward with a nod of his head towards the barn. "wanna show you somethin' inside, baby."

you glance up at him, brows cocking with curiosity, "what've you got in an ol' barn like this?" your eyes dart around for a moment, just looking at the surroundings. matt lets out a quiet chuckle at your words, because you're right, an old barn like this? not much going on. but he silently leads you inside, knowing you're completely unaware of his thoughts at that moment. or any of the moments prior.

it's basically pitch black inside despite the flickering rays of fading sunset peeking in from the top windows. you can't see much, if anything at all, eyes having not adjusted to the darkness yet. matt, however, can see perfectly fine at that moment. as a cowboy, he'd seen his fair share of the dark already.

the inside is basically bare, some old couches, hay bales, dirt on the floors and scattered wood, straw too. he can see your mind working in the darkness, and his hands on you are gentle, reassuring that you're fine. he guides you forward slowly, till you bump into a bench, and end up sat down. you try to meet his gaze in the darkness, however it's a little fruitless considering you can't see shit. "matt?" your words are soft, curious.

matt moves directly in front of you, pushing between your legs so that they spread out to accomodate him. now you can see him better, a sliver of light behind him making his figure clearer to your eyes.

"you trust me, sweetheart?" he asks once more, and of course, you nod once more too. his hands come and clasp yours, fingers interlacing with yours. bringing your hands up to his chest, he splays your fingers against him. matt's hot breath fans against your face. "of course you do," he murmurs quietly, smiling gently at the sight of you.

you watch as he slowly leads your hands over his body, hot, warm and firm beneath your hands. matt guides your hands down to his stomach, and you pause there, his blue eyes darting to yours. "keep going," his voice is low and quiet, "lower, honey."

now, your hands ease over him, over his hips to feel the plaid fabric of his shirt end and shift to the cold metal and hot leather of his belt. your fingers brush his belt buckle, and he looks at you once more. "undo it," he coos, "undo my belt."

"i've never.." you go to warn him, but he knows, he knows and he's okay with the fact that you've never done this with a guy before. as he watches you undo his belt, tugging it from the loops, a soft smile settles on his lips. your breathing picks up, chest rising up and down in quickened breaths. it's a good look on you, all breathless and needy.

"that too," he brushes his fingers over your face, touching your skin gently when he sees you undoing his jeans. as soon as he tells you to, you do it, and that makes heat warm his abdomen. matt strokes his thumb over your neck, head tilting to the side. "pull 'em down. there's a girl, that's it," he shivers a little, as do you, as you pull down his jeans, a breeze hitting his thighs.

"you like what you're seein', baby?" he stands above you, wearing his plaid shirt and boxers. matt grasps at your hands once more and he guides them over his bare thighs, a low grunt escaping him.

you had to admit he's good looking. so good looking. you may have been sheltered your entire life but you'd, of course, watched a hell of movies before. and he's like prince charming, the way he treats you, so gently and patiently. "uh-huh," you mutter, shifting your weight where you're sat. "you look.. good."

"just good?"

"uh, really good. like.. woah," that makes him laugh, and he tilts his head for a moment, as he guides your hands now to the waistband of his boxers. curling your fingers into the fabric, he mumbles, "god, you've got such soft hands."

"i do?" feels like you haven't done a single bit of hard labour in your life.

"every part of you's soft, sweet girl," that's true. he knows it, you know it. he squeezes your hands over his boxers, grunting quietly as your palm brushes over the front. he's straining against the fabric already, not wanting to stain them with a wet patch he knows is impending. "pull these down for me," he lets you tug at the elastic, groaning when you finally tug them down.

the way you obey literally instantly, without any hesitation, makes his blood throb. especially as his cock comes free from his boxers, aching and leaking from the tip. precum oozes from the head, and he watches the way your eyes linger on him. "you ever touch a man like that before, sweetheart?"

"no," you shake your head, not sure what to do with your hands now. you're trying so hard not to look down between his legs, but it's practically impossible. a soft smirk settles on his lips and he hums, "never?"

"never," you agree quietly, your chest rising and falling in more picked up breaths. matt's intimidating in a gentle, caring way, if that makes sense. he's so much of those things that it's intimidating.

"m'gonna teach you. y'alright with that, honey? we ain't gotta do nothin' y'don't wanna do."

that makes you relax a lot more and you consider it, "nothin' i don't wanna do?" you confirm, and when he nods, you offer your hand. you notice how his eyes gleam almost instantly, and the speed in which he takes your hand into his. "there y'go," he says quietly, wrapping your hand around his shaft slowly. it twitches in your hand a little, and he lets out a throaty swallow. "wrap that pretty hand around me, that's it."

"like this?" you wanna do this perfectly for him, perfect. your fingers wrap around him, all gentle. he watches you for a minute, before he speaks up again.

"y'know how to give a man pressure, darlin'?" you're quiet for a moment, before you have a spark of confidence and tighten your grip on him ever so slightly, and he lets out a quiet, strangled moan from his throat. "like that?" your head cocks to the side a little, and he nods his head once more.

"just like that," his voice comes out deeper than he means for it to. the moment you start to stroke him, his head tips back a little and his lips part to let out a low sound. "keep at it, baby, just like that.." matt mutters, fingers brushing over your cheek gently.

as you start getting a hang of things, your hand pumps his cock a little faster and more proper. eyes lifting to his, you smile gently, a little proud one. he was proud of you too, really damn proud. "does it.. feel good?" does it feel good? 'course it fucking does.

"you're a natural, sweet," matt agrees quietly, hips stuttering a little towards your warm hand to try chase the pleasure you're giving him. a quiet grunt escapes him and he shifts his weight, chest rising and falling in quickened breaths too. the fact you're so eager makes his heart race, makes even more precum ooze from the tip and onto your hand.

he's quiet for a minute, before he mutters, tone lilted with gentle curiosity. "you wanna try somethin' else, baby? think you'd be a real natural at that too, hm?" he murmurs, an amused sound escaping him.

"mhm?" you look up at him, biting your bottom lip for a moment before you release it as your lips part. you search his gaze, and matt smiles, coaxing you to look at him properly. he looks down at you through his lashes, "open y'mouth for me.. look at you, doin' so well." your lips part, mouth open as soon as he asked.

his thumb drops to your bottom lip, brushing over it. you're so damn pretty, the way he looks you up and down making your stomach flutter almost instantly. he steps infront of you, letting the head of his cock brush against your lips gently. matt wraps his hand around his base, giving himself a few languid strokes. "keep that pretty mouth nice and open," he tells you, words soft.

your eyes fall down to his cock infront of your mouth, feeling his warmth so close to you, and a soft moan escapes you. when your hot breath hits his tip, his hips stutter forward a little bit instinctively. "tongue out," he watches you stick your tongue out and he gives himself a few more strokes, a quiet grunt slipping past his lips. "such a good girl. so damn good."

you look so good down there, eyes soft and curious as they search his. matt bites his lip for a minute, slowly tapping his cock against your inviting tongue. damn it, you look so good. so, so fucking good. letting his free hand come up to the back of your head, he brings you closer to him. "gonna put myself in, alright? don't worry. remember, okay? breathe through your nose, relax your mouth."

he watches as you do what he'd said, relaxing your mouth as best as you can. you're absolutely wracked with nerves, but he's making it easier for you, not as bad as you thought it'd be. matt's dying to feel the inside of your warm mouth. he's quiet for a minute, "don't have to take all of me, alright? take as much as you can," before he starts easing himself into your mouth, a shuddering breath slipping past his lips.

employing what he'd told you immediately, you relax your throat and mouth, starting to breathe through your nose as opposed to your mouth. "that's it, shit, there we go, darlin', pretty, pretty mouth.." you gag the tiniest bit, and he pauses, "you alright? want me to stop?"

"no, no, no, no—" you mumble around his throbbing length, and he lets out a quiet laugh.

"alright, alright, i got you," he eases himself further, till you tell him to stop. "there we go, takin' practically all of me, hm? that's it, relax.. don't wanna hurt you," matt coos, rubbing your cheek for a minute. perfect. you look absolutely perfect with his cock down your throat, and he has half a mind not to start thrusting into your mouth, but he's promised to teach you gently.

when you go to speak, he shakes his head, "ah, ah, no, honey, just.. just feel it for me, make me feel good," he slowly eases himself back, "gonna start moving, okay? tell me if you wanna stop." with that, and your nod which inadvertently bobs your head on him, he starts moving his hips back and forth. the length of his cock disappears between your lips with every thrust, a ring of saliva slowly forming around fhe base of his shaft. "doing so good, got a perfect mouth. never done this before, baby? i'd beg to fuckin' differ, shit.."

any nerves you had prior practically dissipate with how good he's reacting to what you're doing to him. his grip onnthe back of your head tightens, and he's grunting with his every thrust and bob of your head, his own falling back a little. "face of 'n' angel but mouth of a sinner... my god.." he whimpers quietly, his lips parted with his breaths.

if he could keep at this, he would, he really would. he'd use your mouth to get over the edge a million times and he'd cum all over you—your face, your.. he's getting a bit ahead of himself now, he knows. so he gently taps your cheek and pulls himself out for a moment, a grunt escaping him.

you look worried, confused, as if he didn't like it or had some critique. "was i—was i doing it wrong?" you look so genuinely upset that he has to quickly console you that no, he's fine, great, amazing even, and he just wants your warm cunt instead of your mouth.

"no, no, you're doing perfectly," you really are, he feels so fucking good. he fists his cock a few times, a shiver running down his spine before he gestures to you. "take those overalls off for me, alright?" you're so eager to, you practically rip off the buttons. you slip your overalls off your body and you know for a fact that matt likes the look of you, the sight of your lacy little bra and dainty panties clinging to your hips.

"c'mere, come.. c'mere," matt growls, practically lifting you from where you're sat as he looks around for somewhere to bend you over. he finds a hay bale, in which he unbuttons his shirt and lays it out so you don't get scratched up all that much by the hay. in seconds, he's got you bent over.

"wait, wait—" your words cause matt to stop instantly, fingers releasing the elastic of your panties. his eyes dart to yours, and he looks worried that he'd hurt you or something. "be gentle, please?" he relaxes almost instantly, and he smiles, "i got you, baby. i'll be gentle."

his hand smoothes over your ass, squeezing at it for a minute before he mumbles, "can i take this pretty pair off you, baby?" he sees how you're quiet for a minute before you nod, and he grins as he eases them off your soft thighs. the sight of your pretty, puffy pussy makes his dick throb between his thighs once more, twitching. a string of your arousal clings to your panties from your hole, and that only serves to make him want you more.

"please," you say quietly, weakly. matt hums quietly, letting his fingers ghost over your folds. he swipes a finger through your wetness, seeing whether he'd need to loosen you up for him. he knew you'd be tight but you were wet enough he could probably push right in without much resistance, if any at all. "yeah? need me?" he coos quietly, his hand slowly wrapping back around his cock as he slowly rubs himself against your cunt. the quiet, wet sounds your core makes makes him groan.

"hold on tight, okay? real tight for me," you grasp at the hay as best as you can, feeling it scratch at your hands a little. but the pleasure he's about to give you outweighs any thoughts of getting your hands a little scuffed. the feel of his tip pushing into your wet hole has your knees buckling beneath you, and he slides his free hand underneath you to hold you up. "matt," you whine out, quietly, and he coos, "i know, i know. feels big, huh? you feel tight, honey, so tight 'n' warm."

he pushes in slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you anymore than you already are. matt's eyes flutter shut for a second along with your own, when he bottoms out, and he grasps at your hips tightly with an almost bruising grip. "can i—"

"yeah, please, oh.. please.." well, if you're that eager. he rocks his hips back before he pushes himself back into you. you gasp out, grip on the hay tightening. he's so big, having to practically bully his cock into your pussy, because you're so damn tight too. matt's quiet but still vocal, grunting, groaning and faintly whimpering with every thrust of his hips.

you hiccup softly, "so good, oh, oh god," your chest rises and falls in heavy breaths, tits shaking beneath your sweet little bra, spilling from the lace. this catches matt's eyes immediately, and he smirks, sliding his hand under your chest and squeezing to hold you up. he swallows thickly, "you like that? yeah? feels good, i know, baby, mmh, yeah.." he squeezes your chest again, before he slides his hand down your side to hold onto your hips and squeeze again.

matt's thrusts pick up, hips smacking against yours with the sound of skin against skin echoing throughout the barn. the way you cry out, legs trembling, god, you're gorgeous. so, so damn pretty. "matt! matt, oh my god, mmh—ah.." he can tell you're getting closer from how the trembling in your legs picks up, and how your inner walls clench around him. he swallows hard, "you gonna come? yeah? all over me? that's it, give it to me, wanna feel it, fuck."

you're squealing, grasping tighter at the hay bale beneath you. his words only throw you over the edge, your orgasm hitting you like a truck. he gasps shakily, feeling the way you squeeze around him so tight. he feels your release ooze down your thighs, and his too, and he growls shakily with each buck of his hips now. "gonna come, fuck, hold on, baby, hold on," he slowly pulls out of you, his fist flying to his cock as he pumps his hand quickly, whimpering under his breath with every stroke. "m'comin', shit, my god—that's it, yeah.." his abdomen tightens and eventually hot, white ropes of cum spurt out from his tip and coat your ass, dripping down your soft skin.

you look so pretty like that.

"you okay, baby? he asks gently, eyes meeting yours as he grasps at the hay bale, chest rising and falling in picked up breaths. when you glance up at him, all wide eyed and hazy, nodding, he knows you're okay, and wanting more. "feel so good," you admit, and you glance away for a second before meeting his gaze again. "want.. more."

"more?" matt's eyes rake over you for a second, and he nods, a hum escaping him. "turn around, i got you, honey. always got you."

taglist ／ ⋆ ۪ @lovesickgrlsrh0t, @pettydollie, @dayzeandhaze, @dqzzlingsummer, @slut4chriss, @pillwebb, @https--roman, @amaris444, @yutafairy, @theognatster, @v33angel, @fxlklorelover, @mattsturnswhore, @sturncakez, @flouvela, @mattsdolll, @ifwdominicfike, @httqvi, @imyesterdaysproblem (some tags. didnt work my bad pooks)

[thunderingwisdom]

morning daze

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Rating: Mature/Minors DNI

Pairing: Jing Yuan/Reader

Word Count: 1340

Summary: You're used to your partner coming home late, and you're used to him lavishing his attention on you. It never gets old, and your love for him only grows.

a/n: mom I LOVE him!!! also I tried to keep this one as gender-neutral as possible, I think it worked out?

honestly i just have jing yuan brainrot-wrote this in a rush might edit later?

tags: mature themes, implications of nsfw themes, cuddling, toothache

Consciousness beckons, curling around you, pulling you closer. The morning light tries to reach you through the thin barrier of the linen curtains as you cling to the last vestiges of sleep. 

An arm tightens around your waist. 

Perking up, but fighting to keep your eyes shut, you try not to react to the warm breath ghosting over your neck, to the smile pressing into your skin. 

“You got in late,” you murmur, voice thick with sleep. It was nothing out of the ordinary–he would either come to bed really late or not at all. “Did you get any sleep at all?”

His mouth doesn’t leave your shoulder; a long inhale is his first response, followed by a sound of laughter low in his throat. 

“With such a beauty in my arms, sleep itself insisted on postponing our meeting,” he tells you, hand ghosting across your ribs. There’s not a hint of sleep in his voice. He laughs when you squirm and moves to press it low on your belly, moving the sheets aside. 

“Flatterer,” you accuse sleepily. “Even an accomplished general needs sleep.” 

“Maybe this general needs the warmth of his beloved more.” An edge of possessiveness underlines his touch, his hand continuing its journey over your hips, leaving a trail of warmth that you swear you feel down to your bones. 

“…you have to go back soon, don’t you,” you ask resignedly, fingers reaching for his bicep, dancing over his skin. Old scars littered throughout, a story you quite enjoy following with your mouth. “Jing Yuan..”

“In a few hours,” he reassures you, nipping at the delicate skin below your neck, chuckling at the way your shoulders jerk. “Preparations for the Wardance are about to commence.”

“Perhaps these few hours would be better spent asleep, regaining your strength?” You grumble, knowing he would be fine but unable to help it.

“My dear, you severely underestimate the influence your affections have on this haggard soldier.” 

“And what kind of affections are on your mind?” You ask, amused, as his hand creeps lower; you turn your head to brush soft kisses where you can reach, readily meeting his mouth when he leans in. 

A rush of warmth low in your belly, familiar–it never fails to find you when you feel him smiling into your kisses. Which is almost always. A soft curve to his mouth, gentle eyes, leaning into your touch–a side only you get to see. 

“Whatever my beloved sees fit to bestow upon me,” he murmurs, the lightest of sighs leaving him at the butterfly kisses you leave on the corners of his mouth, his cheek, his jaw. “Although, if you keep this up, my simple mind will surely be lured down wicked paths…” 

“Simple,” you muse out loud, turning over in his arms to see him properly. Jing Yuan meets your eyes steadily, giving you a moment to search his face. Tired, but in good spirits. “If our general’s mind is rendered such, what would become of the rest of us?”

“There are people more than capable of taking over. And we get to live out the rest of our lives in this bed, of course,” he responds easily, both his hands teaming up to stroke up and down your back. “I’m sure we could scrounge up a meal or two.” His palms slide lower, curving over your rear to press you closer. 

You laugh into his skin, sliding your arms around his neck. Questing fingers sneak into his wild hair, gentle as they rake across his scalp. He groans into the crown of your head, melting in your arms. “I don’t think I could live with starving you.” 

“A life spent between your legs is a life without regrets,” he says promptly, if a little dazedly. “Truly, that would be the one thing I couldn’t regret even upon pain of torture.” 

You roll your eyes, fondly yet exasperatedly, hands gliding down to knead gently at the nape of his neck. A burst of affection has you kissing him deeply, a foot sneaking up his calf. 

He’s not one to turn his brain off easily, but you know after all this time spent together that kissing him long enough will get you close. Whether it’s fierce, fueled by a need to be as close as possible—or slow, gentle, pulling you in with the desire to just feel. You’ve worked hard to give him this, a place to feel safe and shed his armour. 

“One of these days, I’m going to keep you here for days, coaxing you to sleep and filling your belly until you grow round,” you inform him, the hint of a playful growl in your tone. And yet, it’s your heartbeat that quickens at the darkness that shades his eyes. 

“Filling my belly? Not with food, I hope?” He purrs, teeth sinking into the soft flesh below your jaw. His hands dig into your skin at the sounds that escape your mouth. 

You long to pamper him more, kneading away the knots in his muscles and chasing away the shadows in his eyes. When you get the occasional evening together, you’re eager to spend it lounging in the tub, exchanging lazy kisses and tales of your lives before each other. Or you cook together, finding new dishes to adore or experiments to laugh at. 

The first time he let you sit him down and work a brush through his hair, he fell asleep in the chair. It relaxes him in a way nothing else can, even if it often leaves you giggling at the way he paws at you, pressing his face into your stomach. The claws of self-consciousness had long faded, with each worshipful touch of his hands, and his greedy mouth. 

That was another thing that came as a surprise. 

“You leave me unable to form a coherent thought, and yet I can nearly hear you thinking,” Jing Yuan comments, nuzzling your hair. “Rather cruel of you, darling.” 

Once he let himself settle into your life tougher, you began to see glimpses of it. He’s greedy–for your gaze, for your thoughts, for your hands on him, and the taste of your skin. 

“Would it help to know you’re the one in my thoughts?” 

“But of course. If it were someone else, I’m afraid I would have to put in extra work to eradicate the very thought,” Jing Yuan declares. A shudder climbs up your spine at the thought of him doing more work, although you being the focus of it might not be a bad deal. “Hmm, actually…”

“Who could ever find the space to slip into my mind with this greedy general occupying every inch?” 

It makes him laugh, eyes curving at you. “Now who’s the flatterer? And if you spoil a starved beast too much, it’s only natural for it to become greedy.” You feel his breath against your mouth—hovering, teasing. The intent in his gaze is clear as his prowling comes to a close.

“You’re right. I should’ve trained you better,” you lament. “Is it too late now?” 

“I’m afraid it is,” he tells you somberly, a twinkle in his eyes. “The hunger is ever-present, and it feels endless.” 

“I have food in the fridge,” you suggest innocently, fighting a grin as you tap his chin. Jing Yuan snaps at it playfully, and your laughter leaves you in sputters. 

“Good. You’ll need it,” he nods decisively, before turning you over onto your back, climbing over you with more grace than is truly fair. You want to sigh at the way your legs fall open, accepting his place between them. “I hope you won’t mind if I eat first?” 

He leans in for a kiss, then another. You want to tell him to get more rest, and he waits, watching you with a smile. But you love giving him what he wants and know you’ll get to hold him after, when he’s sated and dozing against your chest.

You’ll try your luck then, to keep him close a little longer. 

[sulfies]

this been in my doc for a while decided to just put it here, Its a bit edgy lol and tbh Im just not that into this kind of dynamic to build upon it. I don't even know what I did w Desmond in my head the apple kinda put him in this restart/reboot stage where it will take a while for him to come back (if he ever does). also didn't rlly re-read or edit this so probably there are some typos :D enjoyyy I wont ever finish it

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

“You cannot keep him here Ezio!”

“And where else? Don't suggest jail because I already told you he is of no danger to us!”

A Hand slammed on the table “How would you know! He has only been here for a week, It is not hard to keep up an act of mental handicap that long!”

“Machiavelli! Are you crazy-”

The door muffling the conversation slammed open with a boom of voices “Crazy?! The only crazy ones here is him and YOU for not getting rid of him, Ezio!”

The shouting figure pointed at him.

Desmond blinked slowly from where he was sitting.

“I know you are not as dumb as you talk to be Ezio , so please! This screams enemy spy all over the situation, please don't let the whole brotherhood be compromised for… him?”

Ezio sighed, he of course knew Machiavelli was right to be worried but he just did not understand it. He looked at Desmond's silent sitting form, as doll-like as ever. Barely blinking.

“I… listen if anything… anything happens it's on me okay Machiavelli?”

The other scoffed as he turned his back to exit “as if at any point of this I had a crumb of fault in on it, of course it's on you. Always is. Will bring the collapse of this branch just as you built it!” 

He stopped at the open door.

“When this goes all down, and you and I know both that it will, I will not help you clean it.”

Ezio smiled after him “You are the best…”

His reply was a slammed shut door.

“I swear he is nicer once he gets to know you” He turned to Desmond who stood exactly as he was left a moment ago. Ezio’s smile stood on his face.

“And he will come around… he just doesn’t get it but how can he?”

Walking next to him, his hand squeezed Desmond's knee.

“He doesn’t have what we share does he?”

His free hand clasped at the back of his neck and they stood there a bit with their foreheads touching as Ezio inhaled deeply.

“Let's get you ready for sleep”

He straightened up and pulled Desmond softly with him. He knew he could but Ezio was kind of glad he didn't need to carry him everywhere.

Desmond followed him silently as he was led through the hideouts halls and through the open door. Stopping only once the figure in the front did.

“There we are… was a busy day huh”

Ezio turned toward him, tugging at his hand delicately as he led him to sit down on the bed.

It was silent as Desmond got readied. Ezio took his time as he went over their now nighttime routine.

 His shirt and pants were peeled off of his skin, bearing the gold markings that covered his body onto night air. The origin points of the strange lines decorating his tan skin started from Desmond's left hand.

Ezio's finger gave a butterfly touch to one on his neck then pulled over a nightshirt to cover the man's whole form.

Next, his face was cleaned as Ezio wiped it with a damp warm cloth slowly, as if cleaning a beloved hand painted figurine. His fingers raked through his short curls giving them a brush they did not really need.

Few more extra steps and Ezio stepped back with a satisfied gaze. “My, now you look ready”

He lifted the blanket and patted for Desmond to get in “Time for sleep”

Desmond followed, laying down on the bed on his back, letting Ezio drape and tuck the blanket over him. Ezio hummed happily.

“Good night Desmond, go to sleep now”

Desmond's blank eyes stared back at him for a few more moments, his brown eyes gave a short low hum of golden glow before his eyelids closed over them.

Ezio squatted down near the bed and looked at Desmonds sleeping form for few minutes, listening to the mans almost dead silent breaths.

Satisfied, Ezio grunted in a job well done and stretched his back as he got up. Walking upto the couch facing the bed he plopped down face first onto it. Arranging himself to better see Desmond he got comfortable. It didnt take long for him to fall asleep with all the watching rather than keeping watch he did.

[folkwitchofthewest]

Hostage

Author’s note: Hello peeps! This is my first post here on Tumblr. I am very excited, and I hope you enjoy the story. This story was based on a writing prompt I found and immediately fell in love with it. Angst and fluff are 2 of my specialties. Also the reader in this story is a yokai, you decide what kind. Anywho, happy reading!

Description: ROTTMNT Donnie x F! Reader!

During the battle for NYC, reader is captured by the Kraang, and is held hostage. Used as a bargaining chip to force the turtles, mainly the reader’s genius boyfriend, into surrender. After the battle they wake up in a strange place with a familiar voice.

Reader’s guide: Y/N (your name), e/c (eye color), (y/s) your species.

Warnings: Blood, injuries, fluff at the end.

Word count: 2,838

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was bad. This was very, very bad, you thought as the leader of the Kraang slammed you into the floor for the second time during your fight.

A cry escaped past your lips, no matter how hard you tried not to make any noise, you didn’t want to give that thing the satisfaction of knowing how much pain it was causing you. A choked gasp was drug into your lungs as it pressed its seemingly unbreakable and ridiculously powerful robotic hand into your chest, restricting your breathing, like a snake constricting around its prey.

You were the Kraang’s prey, you realized with a shudder. And true to form, as prey would, you squirmed, and struggled as if your life depended on it. Because it did.

“Stop struggling, weakling,” Kraang shouted, as lifted you off the ground just enough to slam you back down again.

Another pained gasp slipped past your defenses, as you scrunched your face in pain, and bit your already abused bottom lip hard to keep from groaning. A ragged cough tore out of your burning lungs, feeling as if someone was raking rusted barbed wire through your chest. Thank goodness you were a yokai, or you doubted you would have survived this whole ordeal thus far.

“Your resistance is futile,” he growled, menacingly lowing his pink face closer to yours,” And yet, I might still find some use for you.”

You shudder as his hot breath brushed against your face. You wanted to gag, scream, cry, push the monster away, but alas you couldn’t make your body obey the simple command to move. Sharp claws wrapped around your limp body and picked you up as if you weighed no more than a feather.

“Come, let’s see just how much these menacing little pests care about you,” your pink captor sneered.

No, he had seen the bond you shared with the turtles, with Donnie. When had he seen it? The invasion had only begun a few hours prior. He planned to use you as a hostage. Oh Pizza Supreme in the Sky, no. You were going to be a bargaining chip in this deadly game of poker. Please no. Donnie would surrender without hesitation if it meant saving you. Your beloved purple turtle has always been your knight in shining technology, your rock, your shield, your everything. The Kraang could not do this. You wouldn’t let it!

An adrenaline rush shot through you, a grim determination settled over you, and you began to thrash, and kick, but to no avail.

“Stop squirming!” Kraang snarled, holding you up by the throat. Out of nowhere the metal fist of the suit punched repeatedly in the stomach. Blood spurted out of your mouth suddenly, coughing and spluttering. The fit left you gasping for breath as warm slick blood ran down your chin and neck. The coppery taste left in your mouth made you want to puke.

‘Coughing up blood after severe trauma is most likely a sign of internal bleeding,’ you remembered Leo telling you once.

Oh great, you would probably bleed to death before this was all said and done, and no one would be any wiser. You suddenly felt extremely light headed, and weak.

“Y/N!” the voice of your beloved boyfriend screamed somewhere to your right.

In a dizzying blur of far to quick motion you were suddenly face to face with Donnie, who looked as if he had just laid eyes upon the most horrifying sight ever. Claws dug into your left wrist and jaw, as your head was lifted slightly, your body going rigid, tears finally cascading down your cut and bruised cheeks. Tears of fear, for your life and your boyfriend’s, and pain as your arm was twisted cruelly behind your back.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, locking eyes with Donnie.

“Don’t apologize, dearest,” Donnie shook his head, ever so slightly.

His white knuckled grip on his tech staff looked as if he could shatter the device with his bare hands at any moment. His body was ramrod straight, and if you looked closely you were sure you could see a small tremble claim him.

“Let her go, and I might let you live,” Donnie snarled words dripping with venom, as he elegantly twirled his staff to point threateningly at the Kraang.

A nauseatingly amused laugh came from the slimy monster behind you.

“You are in no position to make threats, you wretched little thing. You see, if you do not surrender, I will kill this one,” the Kraang smirked, scraping his claws from your jaw to around your throat.

Donnie twitched. He was enraged, and terrified, feeling so many emotions he did not understand nor wish to feel. How DARE this monster threaten you?! The poor turtle stood frozen for what seemed like an eternity in his head.

“Oh, did I touch a nerve, threatening your mate? Lower your weapon and surrender. Or she dies,” Kraang smirked, a strangled sob escaped your lips as it’s cold, hard, claws pressed around your delicate throat a bit harder,” On your knees. Now.”

An ultimatum was laid in front of the genius, and for once in his life, Donnie did not know what to do. If he surrendered, he lost the world; if he did not, he lost his world. His thoughts were racing a mile a minute. You were not his mate, not yet anyways, you were both still teenagers after all. But in the few short years he had known you he had fallen hard, and knew you were the only one for him the moment he laid eyes on you. He could not lose you.

“NOW!” Kraang roared, wrenching your arm behind your back so violently a sickening pop filled the air, and you felt a blinding searing pain rip through your shoulder.

You screamed, loud, long, blood curdling. The hand around your throat the only thing keeping you upright as you suddenly feel your strength leave you. The marrow in Donnie’s bones seemed to freeze. The sound shattered his heart, and he knew what he had to do.

His staff clattered to the ground as he raised his hands slightly in surrender, dropping to his knees.

"Wait, don't hurt her. Please," His voice held tense resignation that you had never heard.

“D-Donnie, n-no. D-Don’t give h-him w-what he w-wants,” you begged, through the tears and blood streaming from between your tightly clamped teeth.

“Beloved, save your strength. Everything will be alright. I promise,” Donnie tried to reassure you, his voice shaking, barely above a whisper.

The sight of Donnie on his knees, head bowed, looking at you as if his soul had been crushed with those heart wrenchingly beautiful eyes, hands in the air to signal he would not put up a fight. The sight forced open a pit in your stomach that threatened to swallow you whole. The pain you felt now, looking at him, was so much worse than the physical pain plaguing your body.

Kraang's laugh echoed in your ears, taunting you and your dear boyfriend. Your eyes squeezed shut, you could no longer keep them open. Your alertness was fading, and icicles began floating in your veins. You were cold, and disoriented. Where was Donnie? You knew he was close, you could hear his voice, muffled as it may be. He always kept you warm and safe.

Suddenly you were flying, weightless and free. And then the world came crashing down, ever so painfully around you. It felt like there was fire everywhere, licking your skin, deep in your bones. Fire so hot, it felt like freezing cold water had been dumped all over your body. And then something soft, and strong lifted you from the fire. You cracked your eyes open, and purple filled your vision. Donnie? Was he…was he cradling you in his arms? You could barely hear his voice over the blood pounding in your ears, crushing your skull. He was saying something, but you could not make out what. All you knew was exhaustion, and pain. Darkness, blessed, sweet darkness beckoned to you. Donnie was here, Donnie was holding you; if he was then you were safe, and everything would be ok just like he promised. You let the darkness have you, while Donnie’s pleas for you to stay with him went unheard.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Something soft and warm was wrapped around you, and something squishy under you. These were the first things you were aware of as your muddled brain emerged from the void. Annoying beeping pierced through your consciousness next. What was that, and wasn’t someone going to turn it off? It sounded like the microwave announcing whatever delicious food it had been warming was ready to be eaten. The thought of food made you nauseous, or was that the oddly salty smell that filled your nose and mouth? You felt floaty, like you were drifting lazily on a cloud through thick and heavy fog.

“Y/N…….ome…ack. Lease…..cme…ba,” a smooth rich voice drifted into your awareness.

It was soft, and comforting. Whoever it belonged to seemed slightly distressed. Who did that voice belong to? You knew them, and you trusted them with your life. That much you remembered. Something soft brushed across your cheek, the touch light as a feather.

“Open your eyes darling,” the voice called again, still muffled, feeling like cool aloe on a searing burn.

Maybe you should do as the voice asked. It sounded important. And you trusted this person, what was their name again? It was right on the tip of your tongue.

“Y/N, please come back to me,” the voice was clear this time, desperate, longing.

A sharp inhale and your eyes snapped open, bright light came flooding in, blinding you. A small quake ran through your body, which felt oddly weak and heavy. A sensation ran through your body, one you had never felt before. It wasn’t pain, simply an uncomfortable burn in your muscles, especially your chest and left shoulder.

“Y/N? Y/N, can you hear me, dearest?” A purple mask and wide, concerned, bloodshot eyes filled your field of vision, shielding you from the harsh lights above.

“Donnie?” your voice barely above a whisper, but full of deep affection.

“Oh beloved! Are you alright? Are you in any pain? Can you breathe properly?” he peppered your tired mind with concerned questions, his hands hovering over you as if he wanted nothing more than to touch you, but afraid you would break like glass under his calloused fingers.

“I’m ok, sore but perfectly fine. I promise,” you reassured him, your hand reaching out to grasp his.

Your throat felt like sand, dry and scratchy. Your e/c eyes drifted over to a cup sitting on a small table behind your dear boyfriend. Donnie followed your line of sight, and quickly scooped up the object of your desires. He gently held the straw to your lips and instructed you to sip, not gulp.

You did as you were told and a sweet reward met your parched throat. Your eyes drifted around the room’s bland walls and obnoxiously beeping machines, while Donnie’s never left your battered face. He looked pale, the bags under his eyes prominent despite the mask, eyes puffy, and red. Had he been crying? Once you had your fill and your voice felt suitable for civil conversation, you looked to Donnie once again.

“What happened? Where are we?” You inquired, softly.

Donnie explained that after the battle the family escaped to a yokai hospital in the Hidden City. After all, they couldn’t very well waltz into a human hospital with 2 frantic humans, an exhausted rat, 4 mutant turtles in varying states of injury, and a critically injured y/s yokai asking for help. Besides every medical center topside was surely flooded with casualties nor would they know how to treat the injured beings. Yes, the Hidden City was certainly their best bet to get the treatment they all so desperately needed.

He also gave you a run down on his brothers and his own injuries before moving to yours. An abundant collection of ghastly looking bruises and nasty gashes littered your body. Plus an unholy number of sprains, tears, and pulled muscles. As you suspected, you did in fact have extensive internal bleeding, a punctured lung from multiple broken ribs, a badly dislocated left shoulder, a severe concussion, and several broken bones.

“I thought I was going to lose you. For 12 deplorable hours I thought I would have to navigate my way through this dreadfully dark life without you, my light. You are the air I breathe, and while we were waiting for news it felt like I was suffocating, terrified of losing my air. My precious diamond, do not ever scare me like that again,” Donnie blurted out, rare emotion filling his voice as even rarer tears flowed from his expressive eyes.

He quickly buried his head in your shoulder. Whether it was to hide his tears, the blush that was rapidly growing on his cheeks, or to find comfort you did not know; however you were left speechless at the uncommon display.

“Donnie,” you stammered, failing to find your words just yet.

You settled for running your hand over his bandana covered head, and caressing his cheek. Donnie was never one for physical touch unless it was someone he was very close with, or he was in need of a way to express emotions he was uncomfortable with. He was never good with feelings either, so such an outright statement driven by emotion was quite unheard of.

“I’m sorry, I just - I was only - I was simply…..frightened. Beyond belief,” Donnie muttered into your shoulder, obviously having a hard time finding the words to express how he was feeling.

Now this was more on brand for your certified mad scientist. He must have put a lot of thought into what he was going to say to you when you woke up, and you suspected had a little chat with Dr. Feelings.

“Tello, look at me darling, please,” you requested, your fingers moving his chin up so his red rimmed eyes met your tired ones,” Dearest, I will never leave you. I swear as sure as Metro Tower is still standing I will always fight to stay by your side. What we have, well, you would think someone tore it right out of one of those nauseating love novels Leo reads. You are my guiding light, what makes life worth living, you are my everything. I love you, Donatello. I always have. Today, tomorrow, and forever.”

His eyes seemed to bore holes into your very soul as he soaked up the meaning and significance of your words. And suddenly more tears sprang forward in both your eyes as a smile graced his lips for the first time that night.

“I love you too. More than you will ever know,” he sniffed, as you brushed his tears away.

“You look exhausted. Have you slept at all?” you questioned, resting your hand on his cheek.

Donnie simply hummed and leaned into your wonderful touch.You let out a sigh, and painfully shuffled over in your surprisingly soft hospital bed. His drawn on eyebrows shot up in a silent question, rather alarmed. You couldn’t help but giggle at the expression on his face, you found it quite adorable.

“Come,” you said, patting the empty space in the bed,” keep me company.”

“Leo would freak if he saw us, spouting some nonsense about tearing your stitches or infection,” a sly grin creeping onto his features as he slipped off his battle shell, and climbed into bed with you.

“Well, it’s a good thing it's only us then, isn’t it?” You giggled.

After several minutes of readjusting making sure not to jostle each other's injuries, you were both comfortable, cuddled up close to each other. Your head rested on his plastron, and his arms were wrapped snugly around you. You began to gently draw patterns on his plastron, this always relaxed him, and you knew exactly how to get him to sleep.

A contented churr rumbled through his chest, deep, comforting. A contented sigh escaped your lips as your eyes became heavier.

"I love you, darling," you whispered.

"I love you as well, beloved," he whispered back, before drifting off to sleep.

In that moment, everything was perfect. Yes, you had all been through hell. Yes, it was going to be a struggle to return everything back to normal. But you would all be there for each other, because that's what family did. You were safe in Donnie’s arms, and he in yours. You had 0 intentions of letting him go anytime soon, vowing to keep away the nightmares you knew would surely come.

But for now everything was alright. You had all survived, and would continue to do so.

You finally lost the battle with sleep, and your last conscious thought was of your purple turtle, and the undying love you held for him.

[hauntingcryptids]

Share Your Coat And Jumper

O x Reader (Dhawan!Master x Reader)

Summary - The Reader gets cold on a day out and finds an inventive way to share O’s clothes

Warnings - Mostly fluff and some innuendos, so 18 plus please. O lying about his true identity, but that’s O for you

Word Count - 802

A/n - Gender Neutral Reader. Not Requested.

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

O rarely ever took time off of work. He was offered breaks and holidays throughout the years of working for MI6, but he always refused them and continued his beloved work. Somehow, though, you managed to convince O to take a well-deserved break. There was an autumn festival close to your shared flat with O and you thought that it would be a quiet getaway that he would enjoy. 

“It’s quite cold out today. You should probably wear a jacket, or a jumper, at least.” O worriedly said as the two of you prepared to leave for the festival.

“O, I’ll be fine. It’s not that cold.” You boasted as you walked to the door of the flat.

It was so cold. As soon as you walked outside your apartment you felt the bitter cold of the wind rake through your body. O gave you a questioning look before locking up the door, but you brushed him off and began leading him to the festival.

For O’s enjoyment, you were able to hide how cold you were decently well. You constantly had a cup of hot cocoa in your hands, you huddled around heaters, and you always stayed incredibly close to O. You suspected that he knew what you were hiding, though, but you weren’t going to admit anything to your sometimes prideful roommate. Your coldness didn’t matter, what mattered was that O had a fun and relaxing break from work.

You were successful in that, at least. O loved the autumn festival. He loved the free cocoa and cider. He loved the corn maze. He loved hay bale ride. He loved pumpkin picking and pumpkin carving. He especially loved the autumnal food and the almost Hallmark movie-like autumnal aesthetic visible everywhere. To your surprise, O even loved the carnival rides and festival games scattered around the fairgrounds. You were so happy that he was having fun and smiling.

By the end of the evening, though, you couldn’t handle the cold anymore. O wanted to see the fireworks and because this was supposed to be his break from work, you had to stay to make him happy.

You shuffled impossibly closer to O as the two of you watched the fireworks. O gave you a questioning and suspicious look, just like he had before the two of you left the flat, but you elected to ignore it. You finished your current cup of hot cacao and threw the paper cup into the recycling bin. You couldn’t help but look longingly at O, he looked so happy and relaxed. You wished that you could make him this happy all the time. You also wished that he wasn’t so stressed because of his job. At least, you could cheer him up on days like this.

 A big gush of wind breezed through the festival and your body caused you to shiver and shake and get distracted from longing after O. But then, once you recovered from the breeze, an idea appeared in your brain. You manoeuvred closer to O and snuck your hands under his jumper. You hugged him and rested your head on O’s shoulder.

“What are you doing?” O asked, confused yet overall unbothered by this new development.

“My hands are cold.”

“But you’re hugging me.”

“The rest of me is cold, too.” O chuckled, which rumbled through you, He wrapped his arms around you, causing his coat to also wrap itself around you too and give you some more warmth. This definitely was the best way to watch the fireworks in the cold together.

“Told you so.” O commented superciliously. 

“Okay, Mr Spy, no need to gloat. You must have a super secret, super sciency, alien gadget that fell from the sky that you and your people thought was a weapon but was actually just a weather machine.”

“No, nothing like that. I just watch the news and actually listen to the weather person when they are speaking.”

“Hmm, I don’t believe you. You must have some alien tech.” O chuckled again at your stubborn statement.

“Next time you should just listen to me when I tell you to wear something warmer.”

“Or you could just make me do as you say.” You felt O tense around you, so you looked up at him innocently. His pupils were blown out and his mouth gaped in shock. You were worried that you had ruined the day and everything between the two of you with that comment and you were about to apologise until O spoke.

“Do you want to head home a bit early? You know, to continue my break from work celebrations in a more … private … environment.” A sweet yet suggestive smirk etched itself upon O’s beautiful face.

“I would absolutely love that, O. Anything to help you relax.”

[idyllic-musings]

will you still love me when i got nothing but my aching soul?

summary. wistful musings are exchanged between two friends older than most.

trigger & content warnings. references to genocide.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. comfort, soft angst. eir (genshin oc) & la signora. 1.2k words. eir uses they/them pronouns.

author's thoughts. THE BELOVEDS!!!!! eir fans come get your MEAL of a soft melancholic angst fic that i made <333 my post formatting will remain the same simply because i want you all to know that this is my oc!!!!! also i don't feel like working out new post formatting.

       "Your hair... It's becoming long again, Eir."

       La Signora's well manicured nails raked through their coffee locks with a gentleness she did not display often, tenderly working apart the tangles that had formed due to their lack of care and attention. A fire crackled on in the background, filling what would have been empty silence. The warm flames danced against their skin, mingling with the wistful glitter in their eyes, and similarly kissing the Eighth's face with a warmth she was both familiar and unfamiliar with.

       Said woman grimaced when her finger got caught on a particularly stubborn knot, a small crack now forming in her well cared for nail.

       "Archons above... your hair is thick enough to break my nails."

       "Sorry. I'll take you out to get a manicure done soon, okay?"

       "Hmph. Fine. That is compensation enough."

       "Well, that didn't take much convincing," Eir mused teasingly, to which she swatted their shoulder. "Okay, okay! I get it!"

       "Do you not take care of your hair? Of yourself?" she grumbled, taking a brush to their hair and working apart that particular knot with it rather than her fingers. They didn't reply. "Your silence speaks a thousand words. Take better care of yourself, Eir. I mean it."

       They giggled at her agitation, joking, "Why? I can just cut the damaged parts off if it gets too tangled. You think I'd look good with short hair?"

       "No."

       They laughed again, making the Fair Lady's lips twitch upwards. 'Such a beautiful sound,' she thought. 'Ah, this world is far too cruel for you, Eir...'

       "Aw. It looks so fierce and powerful on some folks. Why not me?"

       "There are some people who can effectively pull off such a look," she agreed, nodding, "but you are not one of them, my dear. If you want a technical answer"—she leaned forward, cupping their cheeks and squishing their face to her heart's content before leaning back again and continuing on with the task at hand—"it's the shape of your face. The structure of your bones. Anything that goes above your ears would not frame your face well."

       "Well... I trust you, Rosalyne. I mean, look at you—you are literally drop-dead gorgeous. I'd imagine you of all people would know what is best for my appearance."

       "You flatter me."

       "As I should."

       Rosalyne smiled, genuinely smiled that time, setting the brush aside and gingerly brushing their hair back over their shoulders. Finally. When their hair wasn't tangled, it was really quite beautiful.

       "Would you like me to cut it again?"

       "If you would."

       "Very well, then."

       Their reflection in the window they were situated in front of looked... tired. They could vaguely make out the shape of their star irises against the bleak darkness, caused by the raging blizzard outside.

       ...Damn. How were they going to leave without getting hypothermia? Not that it would kill them of all people, of course, but it'd be nice to leave dry and warm instead of wet and cold.

       They supposed they would cross that bridge when they got to it. For now, it was no concern of theirs.

       Hair shears snipped away at inch after inch of their hair. With each cut, Rosalyne's nails raked again through their locks to release any loosened strands that were a bit more stubborn than the others.

       "There," she murmured softly, only for their ears to hear. The shears were set aside just as the brush had been. "Is this short enough? I can cut it more if you'd like."

       "No. This is perfect. Thank you."

       Rosalyne leaned forward slightly, again cupping their face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed over their cheeks. With gentle guidance, she turned their face to the right towards her vanity.

       "The glass will never do you justice, Eir. It distorts your appearance in ways unbefitting of someone of your grace."

       Grace?

       They would hardly describe themselves in such a way, but they appreciated her sentiment.

       Their reflection in the mirror was indeed more appealing than what had been shown to them in the dark glass—she was certainly not wrong about that. However, the tiredness still remained, but... surely that was to be expected.

       Immortality was an exhausting burden.

       "Hehe... you know me very well, don't you?"

       "I would hope so," she scoffed. "It would be shameful if I didn't. Five centuries is quite a lengthy time to get to know someone."

       "Indeed," they agreed. "You and I were quite different people back then. I appreciate that our difference in paths is not enough to deter you from continuing our friendship."

       It was quiet for a moment, but then, Rosalyne sighed. Her hand was gentle against their cheek, as if she could not risk being rough with them, as if they would shatter if she ever did.

       "I am certain it is only because I am not here to take revenge on Celestia. I never was."

       "You never were," they echoed, musingly. "No... I don't believe that. You needn't lie to me. You are here to serve the Tsaritsa's will and avenge Rostam in the process—I understand, I do, Rosalyne. I just don't think violence will help in the way she thinks it will. You cannot remedy one genocide with another. An eye for an eye and the world goes blind, as the saying goes."

       "...This is where our ideologies differ."

       They smiled wistfully. "It is, but that's fine. I love you regardless."

       She did not say it back. Her lips parted—as if she desperately wanted to—but then shut again and pressed into a thin line. It... troubled her, her inability to express the love she most certainly held for her friend, but vulnerability was something she had long since forsaken.

       Eir did not take it personally.

       Then, a knock resounded throughout the surprisingly comfortable silence that had settled within Rosalyne's quarters. Her eyebrow twitched with annoyance.

       Nonetheless, she replied as smoothly as she could manage:

       "You may enter. Make it quick."

       With trembling hands, a much lower-ranked Fatui agent entered her room, bowing their head respectfully. "My lady, you are needed elsewhere—"

       "What?" the Harbinger sneered, fingers flexing slightly on their cheek but not tightening their grip at all. "Explain. Now. I do not have the time nor the patience for this today."

       The agent looked as if they were about to cry. Poor thing.

       "Lo— Lord Pierro has requested your— um, your presence, Lady Eighth."

       If looks could kill, they just knew the poor agent would have dropped cold and dead by now.

       Eir tenderly carressed her palm with one of their hands, leaning into her touch. A small kiss was placed on her scarred hands. Rosalyne's shoulders relaxed a little.

       "Go. It's fine. I'll be fine."

       "Eir," she huffed, thumb stroking over their cheekbone, "when do we ever get to spend time such as this together? Can he not simply wait—"

       "Rosa. I don't want to get you in trouble. I mean, I will tell all of your superiors to go fuck themselves if they so much as look at you wrong, but... you know, that's me. You don't have that same luxury. So, go."

       She didn't seem convinced, so they continued.

       "You and I have all the time in the world, love. You know that."

       "...Fine."

       Rosalyne stood up, the tapping of her heels gradually getting further away. Then, a door opened and closed just as quickly.

       Just like that, she was gone, and somehow the fire's warmth felt a little colder in her absence.

[sukirichi]

home from war | sukuna x reader

Home from War | sukuna x reader

featuring: sukuna x reader (historical au) with small moments of megumi x reader

warnings: very mild suggestive content, mentions of manslaughter and slight yandere tendencies + a toxic sukuna + angst + not proofread :D

part two!

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from war?

You ponder about this carefully, eyes dark as you let your gaze travel from the opening door. Sukuna comes in, bare chest littered with cuts caked in mud, blood, and dirt, and you see the way the grip around his katana falters just a little bit. The room is dark – it is late at night, after all, and you had stirred awake in your accidental slumber from waiting too long for him to return home – but you see him under the darkness clearly. Way too clearly.

Those markings on his face you so dearly love don’t even seem threatening. You seriously question your sanity at this point because he is the Ryomen Sukuna; King of Curses. It’s no secret that he does as he pleases, taking someone’s life as if it was second nature to him, claiming territories, wealth, and even people as if they were his own.

You should be scared, and in a way, you are.

But not in that way.

You’re scared because his shoulders slump, those once burning red eyes fluttering close as he drops to his knees on the floor. Without wasting another second, you leap off the bed, your arms wrapping around his figure. He reeks of death, and before you know it, you wash his exhaustion away by peppering his face with the pads of your lips.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between skin, his neck nuzzling in your face. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my love. Safely like you asked.”

Your heart clenches at his words. Immediately, you bite down your tongue and blink back the tears that threaten to fall. Safely? You want to snap back, your nails almost raking down his back. This is hardly considered “safely” when his knees wobble as you guide him inside the bath, nearly unable to keep his eyes open as you wipe away his cuts and the other remnants of war present on his body.

“I’m sorry,” his voice echoes in the confined walls. You don’t even realize the tears had fallen until his rough, calloused hands brush a tear away. He tilts your chin upwards to look him in the eye, lips trembling when those devilish eyes soften – reserved for you and only for you – and Sukuna sighs through his nose. “I wish I could stop the war, but — ”

“It’s not possible,” you finish for him, forcing a smile to help ease his worries. At this point, you’re conflicted between wanting to scold him to not leave the temple anymore and just stay with you, but you also know why Sukuna doesn’t do that.

It’s because he wants to keep you safe. As long as you were around, Sukuna would go the moon and back just to keep coming back home to you. Perhaps that was the most painful part – the fact that you knew he wouldn’t have done this if he hadn’t met you. Sukuna was the fearsome King of Curses, powerful and undefeated even after a thousand years, but he wasn’t omnipotent. Hundreds of jujutsu sorcerers have lost their lives trying to defeat them, and it took about a hundred more deaths before they backed off at the realization he couldn’t be defeated or exorcised.

Until you came.

You were Sukuna’s weakness, the chink in his armour, his Achilles heel.

The moment it was known that Sukuna kept a lover, they just kept coming. The war begun.  Soon enough, your days of rolling around in bed with him, trapped under his arms and weekends spent in whines of each other’s names disappeared.

Sukuna has a temple to defend. A lover to protect. A woman to cherish. A soul to treasure.

It was all because of you, and you know better than anyone else that he was tired. But he’d never tell you that. He would still scoop you in his arms; pull you closer by the hip so he could lay his ears on your chest, eventually falling asleep with the sensation of your fingers massaging his scalp while you hum to soothe him. The sound of your heartbeat has Sukuna exhaling rhythmically minutes later.

The notorious King of Curses, bundled up in the arms of his lover, completely relaxes in the privacy of his shared bedroom with the woman he loves most. It was as if the war didn’t happen at all. He sleeps with a small smile on his face, sleepily mumbling your name and reaching up to kiss your smooth skin every now and then.

It was perfect. It was heaven.

But that wasn’t you.

Because you are not her; you are not even human. You listen to all this on the other side of the temple. If you were anyone else, someone like her, then Sukuna’s intimate moments with his lover would be private – something that would be kept and cherished only between the two of them. But you aren’t human.

You are a curse born from people’s heartbreak and grief. You don’t even remember how you came to life; your first memory hazy of nothing but endless pain and so much anger you lost yourself. Until he came.

Ryomen Sukuna; the King of Curses – he adored you.

Finally, he met his equal. A curse equally as powerful and blinded by darkness, hatred, and bloodlust – you were one of the rare curses whose presence he enjoyed, and it didn’t take long before he invited you to his temple and offered a seat next to him.

You are Ryomen Sukuna’s right hand warrior, his greatest partner when it comes to battle. If he was powerful before, people feared you both even more when you joined powers. He didn’t go to war without you. For days on end, you and Sukuna would traverse villages and slaughter kingdoms to fill the emptiness gaping in your hearts, but he changed when he met her.

That fragile, meak, little human that loved him and changed him.

Because of her, even you are forced to join this war against jujutsu sorcerers. It’s been a long war – consisting of ten days and waning red moons. You and Sukuna barely came out unscathed this time, the Gojo clan seems to have something else under their sleeves, and your yukata had been ripped open in pieces while blood washed over your body like water.

You and Sukuna came back tired, weak, almost defeated.

You lay your back flat against the wall, teeth attacking your bottom lip while you pour potions over your cuts. At the other side of the temple, Sukuna is already fast asleep, safe in the arms of his lover. And you? You couldn’t even let out a small noise of whimper. Sukuna’s heightened senses would pick up on it, mistake that it would be his precious little woman in his sleepy daze, and you don’t want him to be further agitated.

Besides, once he realizes that it was just you, he would only go back to sleep.

Because he knew you didn’t need him, not in that way. You were the Curse born from Heartbreak, possibly the only ever person who would know pain and suffering the same way he did, but that isn’t true. Sukuna wouldn’t understand that this is your suffering – to have him within grasp but out of reach, to know that he was always with you, that he loves you just the same, but not in the way you want him to, not in the way you need him to.

To him, you are his beloved friend and partner in crime.

You are not the one who soothes him when he comes from war. You are not the one that gets to feel his harsh tongue soften at the first contact of your lips, to have the privilege of having rough hands that easily tortured others to be gentle as he dips his hands in the dips and curves of your body. You are not the one who gets to see him when he wakes up and he smiles half-lidded. You are not the one who gets to kiss his pain and wounds away, to wipe his tears from his cheeks because looking at you makes him wonder how lucky he is to have you.

Instead, you are the one he brings to war with. You are the one he trusts to keep her safe, to watch his back and guard all possible blind spots during war. You are the one who jumps in front of him when a blast of fire is on his way, and you are the one who heals his wounds in the battlefield when he grows too weak. You are the one he laughs with when you’ve both decapitated the enemy, growing only stronger with each passing day under the belief maybe both of you could rule the world someday.

But does any of it matter?

You always believed that you were okay with it, that having him trust you with his whole life, enough to have you sleeping under the same roof as him, was everything you needed. But after she came, you watched him fall in love, and you felt pathetic.

You could never have him.

You could never have what they have.

Sometimes you wonder, what if you just said it? In those nights where nothing but the moonlight illuminated both of your blood-stained faces, chests rising up and down as it both rumbled with laughter, discarded glasses of alcohol thrown on the ground – it would’ve been the perfect moment, wouldn’t it?

Though deep down, you knew the answer.

Sukuna wouldn’t love you, couldn’t love you. He wanted someone to protect, not someone to fight wars with. He wanted someone to come home to, not someone he wrecked homes with. He wanted to listen to someone’s dreams and passions – all of the things you didn’t have because you were born out of pain, living in pain, and Sukuna was the only thing that soothed you for a bit.

Your breaths came out raspy as your wounds began to close up. The stench of blood remained on your body, the red liquid drying up.

Sukuna wouldn’t want an impure woman like you. It makes sense he loved her. She was as bright as the sky while you were as dark as day, and when she laughed, she lit up the whole room. You don’t laugh, you don’t even smile. The only times you ever got to feel that sort of happiness was when you were still a fresh-born curse, a wild Sukuna more than glad to teach you of his ways.

It’s okay, you lie to yourself, crawling back to your bed while ridding yourself of your clothes. You would shower later; sleep needed to come first. Curses like you don’t really need, but you were too exhausted – inside and outside – that for once, you want to submit to healing.

As you close your eyes, you hear Sukuna stir in their room again. The sounds of faint lip-locking echo in your ears, making you slap your palms on the sides of your head, but you hear it, you hear it, you hear it, you hear it.

“How is Y/N?” she asks worriedly, her dainty, small, and innocent fingers that could never harm a fly brushing against his skin. Warm.

“She’s fine,” Sukuna rasps tiredly, “She’s a little beaten up, but she’s in a better state than I am,” you hear him kiss her on the forehead, a contended sigh leaving her lips. “She’ll be fine, my love. You know Y/N. She is fierce, brave, and courageous. This war is nothing to her.”

“I still feel bad she joined the war just so both of you could protect me.”

Shut up, shut up, shut up!

“She knows I love you,” Sukuna mumbles on top of her head, his hands tracing patterns on her back. Tears flowed out your eyes, your body trembling as you bit your fist, drool flowing down. You couldn’t stop the way you felt your heart torn to pieces. Really, it shouldn’t be anything new to you. You are a curse manifested from heartbreak, after all, but why did it hurt so much this time? “Y/N is a long time friend and ally of mine. She cherishes everything I cherish.”

“But still...aren’t you going to check up on her? I couldn’t even welcome her back. I haven’t seen you both in days and I...”

“Shhh,” Sukuna lulls her worries. “I’ll check up on her right now, although I don’t think she needs it. She’s a strong warrior, after all.”

“Sukuna,” her voice was laced with warning this time, but it later softens, as it always does. “Even the strongest have their weak moments, like how you are with me. Just because someone is capable of enduring the pain, doesn’t mean they won’t appreciate an act of kindness. Y/N has been loyal to you far longer than I have, but you really need to show your gratitude more to her,” she sighs, “Go check on her, my love. See if she’s doing well. If she’s fully recovered by tomorrow, I’ll head out to the market and prepare you both a lovely meal. It’s the least I could do.”

Sukuna chuckles, “My love, we don’t need to eat.”

“No matter. She likes miso soup, doesn’t she?”

By now, you’re frozen in bed. The blood and dirt and your skin have stained your sheets, and your hair is knotted in tangles from endless fighting. Maybe this is the reason why you hated yourself more than you hate her – because deep down, she isn’t really someone you could hate.

It makes sense Sukuna loves her.

Unlike you, she is kind, caring, gentle and full of love. What did you have? Pent up anger, bloodlust, temperamental tendencies and a hobby of withdrawing as a form of isolation because you couldn’t cope with the heartbreak – this is your gift. Your curse.

She is a blessing.

You hear the bed dip feet away, and whispers of, “Be safe, I’ll wait for you,” before a door slides close. Sukuna’s footsteps pad nearer in your hallway, in a place that he had his servants build just for you years ago when you proved your loyalty to him. Back then, you were over the moon when you saw him telling his people he wanted you to have your own room, but now it was like a huge slap on your face that Sukuna cared for you, but he didn’t want you close to him in the way she was.

Your room was on the other side of the temple, at the back, to be specific. While she stays with him in his own chambers, he used his magic to build her a beautiful garden filled with her favourite flowers, while you were somewhat locked away behind it all.

A bitter smile makes it way to your face. Sukuna was coming, not because he wanted to, but because she asked him to.

You want to laugh. Instead, you run out the room in such speed that the sheets fly away from your bed, and the floorboards crack under the force of your movements. When Sukuna raps his knuckles on your door, asks if he could come in (as if he needed permission for that), and you don’t answer, he takes it upon himself to intrude.

He isn’t surprised at your discarded clothes, or how your room remains dark and empty, as if you’d never been there at all. This isn’t the first time you ran away, and this would not be the first time he ran after you either.

He knows you’ll come home.

After all, it was him you kept coming back to – although he didn’t know that.

Breakfast the next day wasn’t any better. She invited you to join them, fretting over the cuts on your cheeks and dabbing at them with a wet towel. She feels like a doting mother who wouldn’t stop worrying about her child who tripped, and again, you realize why he loves her.

The food was good. Like she promised, miso soup is placed in a bowl you painted years ago, and she beams at you expectantly while Sukuna caressed her thighs under the table. Your lips tremble as you take a spoonful of it, letting the warm soup soothe your exhausted body with a sigh. Sukuna peers at you in the same curiosity, head tilted to the side ever so slightly as if waiting how you’ll react.

It’s no secret you don’t open yourself up to anyone other than him. The moment she came to live with you both, he could tell you locked yourself up in your room and even disappeared for weeks under the lie that you were parading in the districts to “look for some fun.”

Sukuna knows you better than you know yourself. He knows it’s a lie, that you’re not someone who “looks for fun” and that you probably just stayed up in the mountains watching the sunrise. He knows you’re uncomfortable with her displays of affection, of how she easily adored you or how she cared for you like you were her sister or even a friend, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

If anything, he only hopes you would treat her the same way.

You don’t finish your bowl. It’s extremely difficult to enjoy the food when Sukuna compliments her on her cooking skills and she turns beet red beside him, nervously giggling that she just wanted to make you feel better. Sukuna bends down to steal a peck from her lips, teasing her that she was his “sweet angel” who had a heart of gold.

They don’t even eat.

They’re just giggling, laughing, kissing, and you understand – you really do. It isn’t every day that Sukuna gets to indulge in the presence of his beloved. But only you are there with him. It’s either he trusts you enough to let his guard down, or you’re unimportant enough that he doesn’t care if you see him completely baby her and spoil her rotten with how he grabs her onto his lap and starts kissing her nose and then her eyelids.

Their cheerful laughter is a great contrast to the sound of your heart shattering into pieces. They don’t notice that you’ve excused yourself, heading out the room and into the back part of the house, passing the servants on the way.

Similar to how they treat Sukuna, they quiver and bow before you, making sure to keep their eyes on the floor in fear you’d slice their heads off. You fight back a sigh. You wouldn’t do that – not when they welcomed you so warmly (or rather, fearfully) and accepted you as their master. You realize that they don’t act this way around Sukuna’s lover. In fact, they light up when she’s around and talk to her freely; everyone was just comfortable in her presence.

You know you’re not her.

You could never be her.

She was a human, and you’re nothing but a lonely, heartbroken curse.

Hours pass by, and no one looks for you. You dare not enter the garden Sukuna made for her even if you also like the flowers, simply because you don’t want Sukuna to be appalled at the thought that someone like you – a Curse who’d killed people and tortured others – would also be enamoured with something as innocent as daisies.

The lake is peaceful that night. It’s painful to bathe back at the temple because the servants won’t leave you alone. They insist on washing your body for you and that you should lay back, but you refuse to be coddled. The lake is on the other side of the mountain, deep in the forest with smaller curses lurking, so no one would find you here.

The moon shines down bright on you, and for the first time since you’d gotten home, you smile.

It looks so beautiful. So big and bright, yet so haunting and peaceful with secrets you could never uncover. You stare at it as you take off your robes layer by layer, feet dipping into the cold water before submerging completely. The ripples on the lake illuminated by the moonlight makes it even more soul-stirring.

You cup the water and wash your hair, finally getting rid of the invisible stains from the war. You felt clean, refreshed – but your heart still rumbled with hatred and darkness. Hatred that you couldn’t be good enough, hatred that you’re destined to be lonely and unloved.

One of the good things about bathing at midnight is that no one gets to see your tears when it mixes in with the water, and you throw your head back in laughter with your arms extended to the sky. This is who you are – a Curse with no future and no past.

Later, you choke as a sob begins, your fist clenching above your heart. It hurt everywhere.

You wanted Sukuna – so much that you felt like you were going to go insane.

If it wasn’t for him, you’d be trapped in an endless nightmare. But he saved you, cared for you, made you his equal. So why couldn’t he love you? You’ve always been there for him. When people turned against him or plotted a rebellion, you were the one who snuck into clan houses and slit their throats, making their descendants and followers witness the consequence of disrespecting Sukuna.

When he was nearly exorcised by an overpowered jujutsu sorcerer, you summoned an army of thousand lost souls to defeat them, nearly ending up with you losing your head in the aftermath. It was always you – you were always there from him since the beginning, so why didn’t he love you?

You cupped your eyes with your palms, unable to stop the tears from coming now. Your whole body shook with sobs, turning number and number at the cold water. Nothing mattered, nothing mattered, nothing did if you couldn’t have Sukuna.

“Sukuna,” you cried out, pushing your hair back as the ripples blurred in your tear-stained view. “Sukuna, help me, please...” Put an end to my suffering, you inwardly begged. Death is a better option than watching him fall deeper and deeper for her, knowing that could never be you. He’d never look at you that way. He’d never touch you that way. He would never be your lover, and your sobs grew more desperate because you know you are his lover.

God, you loved him so much more than you hated yourself.

This sort of madness had you gasping for air. Death – death is a better option. It is a much more peaceful way to go than to suffer each waking day to have what you want be explicitly stated to be reserved for anyone else but you.

You froze when a pair of arms encircled your waist, his grip strong and vice-like. He turned you around, his large hand coming at the small of your neck to bring you down to his shoulder where you could hide your tears. Until now, he knows you better than you know yourself, and he knows it would shatter you even more if he saw you crying.

“Y/N,” Sukuna begins, and your eyes widen when you see he’s still wearing his robe. He must’ve jumped in the water. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. What’s wrong?”

Your lips turned blue from the cold. Unable to help the shiver that ran down your spine, your teeth chattered, and Sukuna pulled you closer to the heat of his skin. He sighed worriedly. “You need to tell me what’s wrong, otherwise, I can’t help you.”

“I” You falter. Your heart drums loudly in your chest. He would reject you, break your heart into pieces all over again but – so what if he did? It almost made you laugh. You’re the Curse of Heartbroken Souls. It wouldn’t make a difference if he hurt you now. Instantly, you weaken in his hold, and Sukuna’s hands grip your waist to keep you upright.

“Fuck, Y/N, what’s wrong —”

“Kiss me.”

“What?”

“Kiss me,” you repeat, more confidently this time. You pull away from him in the slightest bit, eyes blown wide as you peer up at his appalled ones. His hands squeeze your waist subconsciously, his sharp nails piercing through your skin until it draws blood. It makes you gasp a little, but you’re used to the pain. Right now, you want to be selfish and free yourself from this pain. “I want you to kiss me, Sukuna.”

His eyebrows pinch together. “What the fuck are you saying? I love someone else, you know I won’t —”

“Won’t do what?” You challenge, eyes burning from the intensity and ferocity of each nerve humming to life. “This isn’t who you are, Sukuna. You’re the King of Curses. Or have you already forgotten those days you would accept those female offerings and you’d fuck them until they’re out of their mind, then discard them as if they were nothing but dirty laundry? You were strong back then, majestic, but now you’re fucking weak,” You spat out. You know you’re spurning him on and pushing all his buttons, but somehow saying those words gave you great relief.

Now, it was time to see his patience snap, which shouldn’t take long since his grip had turned bruising on your hips, and he growled under his breath. “Don’t do this, Y/N.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t do this,” you growl back, “You haven’t been the same ever since that pathetic excuse of a woman came. Don’t you remember that she left her husband and children just because she was a whore for you? Because you pleased her better than her human spouse?” You push him away with enough force that it sends him a few feet back, and Sukuna scowls. “She doesn’t love you! She only stays by your side because she was nothing but a filthy rat before and now you treat her like a queen! She’s nothing but a lowly human who —”

“Enough!”

“ —made you believe you’re someone she could love! Don’t you get it, Sukuna? We’re Curses, she’s a human! She will never understand us! You’re lying to yourself if you believe she doesn’t cry herself to sleep at the thought she’s next to a monster —”

“I said, that’s enough!” In a flash, Sukuna was in front of you, clawed hands wrapped around your neck. It would be so easy for him to break you and kill you right then and there, your feet already above ground and your exposed breasts just within his sight. Nevertheless, you only laugh cruelly at his agitation. “You know nothing,” he squeezed your neck tighter, “about what it’s like to love someone. How dare you say that she does not love me?”

“I know, because if you let me, I could love you a lot more,” you choked out, clawing at his arm, but he is unfazed by your efforts.

Sukuna lets go of you. You drop in the water as you gasp and breathe for air, but Sukuna’s wide eyes bring you back to reality. It’s that face, the one that tells you he’s been unaware this whole time, and the sudden confession drops on him like a cannonball.

Like a switch has been flipped off, you revert back to your normal self. Using your arms to shield your body, you run away from him, about to make it to the bank when his voice stops you. “Do you truly mean it? Do you love me?”

You close your eyes. “Yes. I always have.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You wouldn’t have believed me,” you pull your hair to the side, squeezing the water out. “You barely believe me now, so why believe me if I said it earlier? It wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Then why were you calling for me? I heard you crying. You said you wanted me to help you.”

You whip around, tears furiously flowing down. “I’m going to the jujutsu sorcerers myself tomorrow and let them exorcise me. There’s no point to my existence, Sukuna. I’m tired of all the wars. I’m tired of fighting for someone I don’t even care about. I’m tired of loving you and watching you look at her instead of me, when I’m the one who’s always been there for you. I’m tired of —” you hiccup, embarrassed that he was now watching you break down in front of him. You were a powerful curse, dammit, you shouldn’t even be crying about this. “—I’m tired of not being the one you love.”

Sukuna stands there gaping. You don’t give him another chance to speak as you walk away, seemingly a new habit of yours now. You haven’t always been this way. Patience was never one of your strongest points, but being around Sukuna for the past years taught you a thing or two. That all shatters now that you’ve grown tired, the shame of patheticness crawling between your legs as you retrieve your robes, not bothering to dry up.

He exhales through his nose, claws balled into a fist to restrain his anger. Now he wants to be gentle with you the way he is with her?

Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic – you keep chanting to yourself. You’re not there yet, but there have already been rumours that you’re the Queen of Curses, the only one who ever managed to be Sukuna’s equal. Although men feared you, they also lusted after you.

How could they not? You were a sexual prowess, and a fearsome figure in the battlefield. Men are confused whether they want to be with you, or if the mere utter of your name had them fainting. Sukuna, on the other hand? He didn’t care. He didn’t notice you. You’re nothing but a war tool to him, his friend and companion during his dark days when he grew bored and would randomly slaughter homes and enslave people.

He’s not the same anymore. The Sukuna you once knew was gone, and you turned back away from him bitterly, the blue flames licking up your skin as a symbol of anger, hatred, but most of all, humiliation.

That night, you didn’t go back to the temple.

And a small, quiet village who’d been loyal to both you and Sukuna had become the victims of your frustration.

The next day, silence echoes in the hallways of the temple. You couldn’t hear even the soft breathings or whispers of the servants. Your ears perk up once you cross the threshold, dropping your bloody katana and releasing your hair from its red tie. The temple servants must’ve already heard that their relatives died the night before – all thanks to your inability to handle your feelings.

It’s okay, you tell yourself, you’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna: killing people, enjoying their screams, basking in their surrender and painting the image of hope fading from their eyes into the back of your school.

You’ve done this a thousand times before with Sukuna, but this is the first time you’ve done it alone. You only ever took their lives because Sukuna asked you. Because he assured it was a way to keep gaining strength and to make a name for yourself; that being a powerful Curse was the best feeling in the world and no amount of woman or alcohol felt greater than power.

Sukuna lied.

To him, his heaven was in her arms.

And you? Utterly lost. Broken. With nowhere else to go. As you enter your room, you’re greeted by the sight of a made up bed and cleaned sheets. Even after slaughtering families, your servants still cleaned your room out of fear, and the previous blood from the other day had been wiped away with bleach.

Then, you see yourself from the floor length mirror. White yukata that might as well have been red from the amount of absorbed into the cloth draped over your curves, and your eyes lost what little light it once held. Blood drips from your fingertips and you swipe your thumb over your lip, a small gasp falling to your lips as you recall a little girl, barely five or six winters old, with the exact same lips trembling as she begs you not to kill her parents.

It’s the splitting image of you when you were younger, when you ran around cities unintentionally wreaking havoc out of confusion over your powers. You have no parents. No past. No memory. You just came into existence because of mankind’s grief, and it only made sense you carried that burden more than anyone else.

But you’re not this. You are not a killer. You didn’t enjoy it. You never enjoyed it. Even when Sukuna convinced you that you did, there was no forgetting the fact that you cried yourself to sleep when you were younger at the thought you grew more powerful because you added to the heartbreak of people.

The word heartbreak lights up a bulb in your head. That’s right...you’re the Curse of Heartbreaks – of pain, of grief, of mourning, of suffering.

If you couldn’t have what you want, then why should he? Isn’t it already written in your fate that your destiny is to carry those pain, inflict it onto others, and make them realize they’re wasting their lives believing a lie that love prevails all? That love prevails even someone as irredeemable as Sukuna?

You won’t allow it.

Without wasting another second, you dash to her room. Sukuna’s out to deal with some clan leaders for whatever ritual he wants to perform or out to get more healing potions. The girl never went anywhere else outside the temple because both jujutsu sorcerers and curses are always ready to prance, and she’s smart to not put herself in harm’s way.

But you are harm’s way.

You run so fast through the hallways that you keep bumping into corners, denting the wooden boards and the floor cracking beneath you. You don’t stop until you reach their room, swiping the doors open, and sliding on the doorframe when you see she’s still asleep.

She and Sukuna must’ve stayed up all night performing...activities. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have been this weak. She’s a lively and bubbly girl, she wouldn’t have – you freeze in your spot.

Tentatively, you reach over to where she softly snored, tilting her to face you by grabbing her shoulder. She only groans in her slumber before burying herself under the covers. “Sukuna...” her brows furrow as she twitches, probably dreaming about something, and she kicks the covers off with a whine. That’s when you see it. And then you see everything.

A small – barely there – bump on her tummy is half concealed by her lace gown that reveals her skin free from scars, a sign that she’d never really been in battle. But she’s carrying his child, and even though you’re not the one pregnant, you feel bile rise up in your throat.

Your knees wobble and you fall beside their bed, your palms shaky as you place it over her belly. First, you hear a baby cry, and then, a man’s scream.

Sukuna carries his daughter’s form, the little thing bundled up safely in towels while her father coos at her. She’s so small, vulnerable and exposed to the horrors of the world, but she didn’t need to worry about that. Sukuna would protect her, and so would you.

You stand outside the room, a small smile on your face with your arms crossed on your chest. Well, you’ll be damned. You’re not a fan of children and babies in general, but you do admit the infant’s cries sound like music to your ears. It means she’s alive and healthy, and even though her existence is nearly impossible considering her father is a curse, the girl was born perfectly fine and well.

Suddenly, a dark, ominous presence looms over the room. You stand on guard, hands drawing your blade to prepare for whatever or whoever attacked you. You’re not a fan of the kid and or her mother regardless, but Sukuna is left open and vulnerable for attack in this state. He’s too busy fawning over his kid to sense any incoming assault.

However, something doesn’t feel right with this one. That dark, suffocating feeling doesn’t travel. Instead, it’s stagnant and somewhat docile, as if it has no intention to attack, but its threat still remains. It doesn’t even seem like it came from anywhere or it’s about to arrive. Rather...it’s like it was always there to begin with.

Your eyes widen at the realization.

What would happen if a curse...fathered someone else? Would it be human? Or would it be something worse?

You slam the doors open, and everything happens in slow motion. The baby’s mother reaches out to a nearly sobbing Sukuna, eager to see her child, but just as her small, grubby hands wrap around her mother’s pointer finger, it falls. She stops breathing, her arm falling limp, and Sukuna stops cooing. The baby’s cries cease, staring up at her father and extending her small arms to cup his face.

It seems he realized it too, but it was too late.

“Sukuna, don’t!”

The child giggles, her knuckles brushing against her father’s jaw, and the King of Curses lose his grip on her. You watch as they both fall, a garbled scream leaving your lips. The midwife runs to save the child before she’s crushed under Sukuna’s weight, but she too has fallen victim the moment her skin made contact with the baby’s.

No...it’s not even a child or an infant. It’s not even human.

It’s the Curse of Death.

And at her birth, the world would grow dark, darker than what you and Sukuna have already caused the world to be. Her words would sound like a fork scraping against a plate; torturous, excruciatingly painful, and enough to have you begging for death. The simple brush of skin upon skin takes away the energy, power, and life even of the most powerful beings. After all, what is stronger than Death? It was the only absolute truth in the world – which all things must come to an end.

You retract your hand from her body, sweat dripping on your hairline. That thing growing inside her body...it must not be born. Sukuna would die.

With a silent scream, you whip out the dagger and force it upon her stomach. Or at least, you would’ve, if not for the blade that had peaked out your chest and nearly poking Sukuna’s lover’s back. Blood stained the silver blade, leaking into your lap.

You drop your dagger.

“I trusted you,” Sukuna begins calmly, pulling out the sword from your body in one swift movement. He ignores the way you cough out blood, your head shaking as if to deny his words. His face remains expressionless as he wipes your blood on his thigh, dropping the potions to aid her pregnancy beside her on the bed. Sukuna crouches down to your level and pulls you by the hair until he’s close enough that you could see his two other eyes also glare at you. “Have I not made it clear she is to be untouched? Just because you’re unable to handle your petty jealousy, does not give you a goddamn right to kill what’s mine.”

“What grows in her is a monster,” you sneer, struggling against his grip. You’ve forgotten that his sword is imbued with his special curses that would immediately exorcise any weaker Curse, but because you’re on the same level as him, you die slowly, and a lot more painfully.

“That child is mine. It was created out of love.”

“It is not a child!” You argue, “It will be born as the Curse of Death, one that will kill both you and your little lover!”

“And if you’re lying?”

You grit your teeth. “I would never lie to you, Sukuna.”

His brow shots upwards, a smirk creasing his lips. “Is that so?” he shoves you until you slam against the wall. Sukuna treads to you dangerously, his tongue peeking out to swipe at his lips. You know that darkness in his eyes better than most – it’s the look he always wore when he decides to go for the kill.  “Then, since you’re always honest to me, tell me this: do you still love me?”

You don’t even think about it.

“Yes. That’s why I’m telling you to get rid of that thing before you and everyone else dies.”

“A concerned little lamb,” he hums in amusement. “That makes it clear then,” Before you could process what happens next, you take your last breath as Sukuna rips out your heart with his claws. It’s not an actual heart, but rather the core of your Curse manifestation and the gem-like object is crushed under his fists. “Queen of Curses, Curse of Heartbreak,” he drops the pieces of your heart into your lap, Sukuna growing more and more blurry in front of you. “Die the same way you came to life: with a terrible, terrible heartbreak.”

Sometimes, you can’t help but feel like you’d been an awful person in your past life. It’s not that you’d ever done anything illegal or rebellious. Your parents are quite proud of your immaculately clean school record, and your grades are even above average. The school’s faculty absolutely adores you for your preppy personality, always volunteering to help others and taking the lead when no one wants to budge.

You suppose you’re quite a role model, but what no one understands is that maybe you’re always going out of your way to be kind with someone because deep down, you have a nagging feeling you’ve once been a terrible person.

Sighing, you wrap your arms around your legs as you hug it to yourself, whacking your forehead in your knees to get rid of those impending thoughts. There’s really no reason behind it, more like an intuition that you’ve forgotten about something important.

You’re pulled out of your trance when warm, soft hands push your hair back, and a pair of even softer lips land at your shoulders. Immediately, you smile, turning your head to peer at the dark-haired beauty that shyly peeks up at you under his long lashes. He keeps peppering kisses all the way up to your neck until you laugh from being ticklish, and it doesn’t take long before Megumi has you smiling again.

He knows you better than you know yourself.

“What’s wrong?” he mumbles on your shoulder, his warm hand drawing comforting circles on your lower back. Again, the simple gesture ignites something within you, something about oddly familiar even if you don’t feel like you’ve experienced it firsthand. “You’ve been deep in thought lately.”

“Lately?”

“Hmm,” he moves up your face, pressing a long, solid kiss at your forehead. It makes you relax and sigh happily, unable to help your urge to crawl into his lap and bury yourself in his arms. “Ever since Itadori enrolled here, you’ve always looked at him...quite weirdly. Is he bothering you? You know if he does something weird, I won’t hesitate to feed him to the Divine Dogs.”

That elicits a laugh from you. Now that you think about it, you’ve been awfully quite ever since Gojo sensei came back with that overly excited kid. You don’t know why, you don’t even realize his presence affects you, but you don’t want Megumi to worry about it when you can’t understand it yourself. So you hug him closer until the scent of fresh laundry wafts your senses, and you brush his scalp tenderly.

Megumi purrs.

“It’s nothing you should worry about, I’m sure I’m just tired from exams.” Unlike Megumi, you’re not a jujutsu sorcerer. You came from a totally human family that lived a totally mundane humane life, unaware that curses exist and people actually die from it. If it wasn’t for Megumi saving you that one time in school when you unknowingly stayed behind the same night the Occult Club did and ran into some freaky monsters, you would continue living without any idea of it.

It wasn’t always easy accepting Megumi’s true identity, but you loved him more than anyone else, and so hiding in his dorms while lying to your parents you were going to sleep over a friend’s house has become somewhat a daily occurrence. You’ve even made friends with the lovely Nobara and Maki senpai who welcomes you with open arms – although maybe it’s because you never fail to bring them food from the city and some fashionable items for Nobara.

Megumi senses your hesitance to talk about it, so he drops it and enjoys the feeling of your skin on him instead, your breaths falling in the same rhythm. Tonight, he and his classmates would go out on a mission again because the idiotic Gojo-sensei was away overseas, and as always, you’d stay up late in Megumi’s room, waiting for him to come back right after he promises you you’ll come back safely.

You close your eyes and wrap yourself around him like a koala, and Megumi laughs at how small you are. He doesn’t brush you off, though. He knows you fear for his life despite the fact you trust him with his abilities, but you can’t help it. It’s only natural to worry about your loved one, after all.

For now, he’ll have to keep cuddling and kissing you for as long as he could before he leaves.

How does one soothe their lover who’s come from battles?

You scramble away from Megumi’s bed the moment you’re waken up by the sound of steady knocks. The first aid kit lays on his study desk, which you swipe with sleepy eyes as his baggy clothes crinkle in your smaller figure. It’s rare that Megumi lets you see his state during after battles, but today, tonight, he allowed you to stay even after his mission.

Your steps are nothing but hurried when you slide the door open, his name about to fall from your lips until you’re greeted by a young man with strawberry blonde hair and black marks on his face. It’s Itadori Yuuji, but at the same time, it’s not him...

His cheerfulness and airheaded self is gone, replaced with a much sinister entity residing within it. The man before you sighs, frowning in distaste at your clothes – your boyfriend’s clothes – before he invites himself in and shuts the door behind him.

Sukuna hums, pulling you closer to him until there is no space between your skin and his, his face nuzzling in your neck. “I’m home,” his lips brush the bare skin of your neck, his breath warm and ticklish. “I made it home to you, my Queen. Safely like you asked.”

“Wha-?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers so quietly you wonder if you heard it at all. “For not believing you, for not seeing you. It took me thousands of years to realize where I fucked it all up, but I know the truth now. And you were right – you were always right. I hope in this life I no longer break your heart in the same way you soothe mine.”

 - - - - - 

A/N: Sounds like a pretty confusing ending, which it is, and I was gonna leave it at that but because I don’t want anyone to go “HUH?” after reading this, I’m just gonna explain :D Sukuna eventually realized how toxic he was to the reader in her past life, how he convinced her to be a bad person with him then emotionally abandoning her the moment he found his happiness. She was the Curse of Heartbreak, and her powers remained even after she was “exorcised.” 

She broke his heart by showing him how he lost everything after her exorcism and his lover’s death (because he also saw the future that the child was the Curse of Death) and all those years of suffering eventually made him realize that the power of heartbreak was the one that destroyed him. So in the present, when the reader was reincarnated as a human girl, he finally found her and tries to make up for his mistakes because she was actually his first love, he just didn’t realize it because both of them were somewhat barbaric and psychotic. Lmk what you think, I hope you liked it!

[arcaneblaine]

their favorite body part ┈ gvf headcanon

☽ ┈ ft. josh kiszka, jake kiszka, sam kiszka, danny wagner

☽ ┈ cw/tags: nsfw (smut, oral, choking, etc.), fluff

☽ ┈ request

☽ ┈ thank you for this request! sorry we're lagging on posting more but hopefully we'll have a few more breaks in our schedules. in the meantime, enjoy :)

JOSH ┈ mouth

imo josh is a mouth worshipper

catch him gawking at your lips while you’re having a conversation with him, or telling him about your day

for the most part, it’s unintentional but he gets distracted easily

he loves the way the corners of your mouth turn up when you catch him zoning out

or the way you barely bite at the flesh of your bottom lip when you’re unsure of something

he always prefers to be the one biting for you, but it is what it is

he loves you in darker shades of lipstick, finding that the closer your lips are to wine, the more he wants to get drunk off them

he loves the plumpness of your lips when you go down on him as the color you’re wearing smears against his skin

watching himself disappear past your lips is just enough to send him over the edge most of the time, muttering your name as if it were some kind of ancient prayer

he loves the way your mouth looks so agitated after his teeth score your lips, turning your skin various hues as he marks you as his

he loves the wash of bliss that settles into your smile as he finally hits your sweet spot and sends your head reeling

most importantly, he loves the taste of your lips as it blends against his tongue

it’s incomparable to anything else, and it’s so wholely you which is exactly what he likes

JAKE ┈ hands

jake’s mind goes absolutely numb when you slide your hand into his own

he loves the feeling of your fingers interwoven with his, or when you hook your finger through one of his belt loops

he loves the digs and hills that make up the landscape of your knuckles, and the valleys and bends that score your palms

he swears he could draw roadmaps based on the intersecting portions of your fate lines

he’s always admired the way you hold your pen to sign your name or the way your fingers fiddle with one of your shirt buttons when you get nervous

that being said, he loves the nimbleness of those same fingers as you unzip his jeans

he loves the feeling of your nails raking through his hair and down his back when he thrusts into you

or the way your hands tighten around his wrist as he controls your breathing

he loves the look of your hands as you jerk him off, the image seared into his memory for when he’s alone or away on tour

a guilty pleasure of his is kissing each of your knuckles when the two of you are alone, the quietness of the room serving as a barrier from the outside world

he loves when you caress his face with those same hands that are simultaneously strong and tender

SAM ┈ feet legs

oh, sammy my beloved

sam loves the softness of your skin after you get out of the shower, wrapping yourself around him as you settle in for bed

he loves the scars on your knees from grade school recess anecdotes revolving around slides and soccer balls

most days he just wants to rest his head in your lap and brush his fingers along the terrain of your calves as you work or read

he loves when you wrap your legs around his waist and sit in his lap while he’s home, the closeness something he craves when the two of you are apart

your legs are sam’s kryptonite, and you use that to its full meaning

he loves to be buried between your legs, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as he makes you moan his name with his tongue

he loves when you dig your heels into his back and suffocate him slightly when he hits just the right spot

he can’t help but leave various hickeys printed against the soft muscle of your thighs, his fingers also pitting bruises from keeping your writhing body in place

it gets him hard just thinking about pressing your knee to your chest to thrust harder into you

or the way your legs turn to jelly after he’s bent you over a counter

yet, nothing is comparable to when sam rests his hand on your knee while you’re in public, a gentle squeeze signifying that he’d rather just be with you

and in the car when his thumb brushes against your inner thigh because he knows that beneath your clothing are his marks of passion; a secret for only the two of you

DANNY ┈ hips

Shakira knows they don’t lie okay

danny loves looping an arm around you, his fingers settling on your hip and dipping beneath the hem of your shirt slightly while the two of you are in public

the curvature of your body---he feels---fits perfectly against his side

he loves absentmindedly drawing patterns against your skin with his fingers because he knows it’s such an intimate spot that he had the privilege of touching

it doesn’t matter where the two of you are, he’s usually going to have his fingers subtly digging into the skin of your hips, marking you as his own

he loves watching you dance, even if it’s just the two of you in his apartment goofing around, swaying your body to the music

his eyes light up when you pull him close to you, letting his hands tug your hips to bring you closer to him

he loves using your hips as anchors when he’s grinding against you, moaning sweet nothings in your ear

he loves feeling your hips move against his as you desperately search for more frictions, your fingers grasping at his shirt

he loves raking his teeth over the sensitive spots beside your hips as he drags your underwear down your legs

he loves tugging you back against him, fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deeper into you

what he loves most of all is the fact that he’s one of the few people that know you’re ticklish around your hip area

he prides himself in the fact that he’s someone you trust to explore the depths of your body like that

[i'm not tagging bc the post would break lmao]

[bibblelevi]

sar my beloved!! 38+jean from the nsfw list? <3

CASS. OF COURSE I CAN.

Jean Kirstein x Reader

Contains fem! Reader, exhibitionism/semi-public, toys, orgasm denial/edgeplay, begging, crying, punishment, praise kink

Prompt: “i’ll let you do anything if you just touch me now”

Your boyfriend is a fucking asshole.

Connie’s birthday dinner meant wings and burgers at the local bar, but it also meant serving the “punishment” you owed Jean—in the form of a vibrator wedged right against your clit. All night long.

You’ve been stewing silently, nursing a glass of whiskey, fingers balling up the skirt fabric clinging to your thighs. Your thighs are squished together, which you can’t tell whether it makes the low vibrations worse or not; but closing your legs also means feeling the wetness seeping through your panties rub into your inner thighs.

He hasn’t let you cum yet. You don’t think he will, but also you don’t know how you feel about cumming at a table with ten of your good friends. Thankfully, Connie and Sasha’s voices alone are enough to drown out the quiet whirrr sounding from between your legs.

Jean sits beside you, the remote to the vibrator tucked safely in his pocket, his arm strewn around the back of your chair. A piece of your hair slides through his fingertips.

The vibrations are low, then they pick up, your back straightening and jaw wobbling. Jean’s eyes shamelessly rake up and down your body, lingering on your cleavage which rises and falls with every shallow breath.

He leans in, mouth brushing your ear. “You gonna cum?”

You bite your lip, giving a gentle shake of your head. You’ve learned your lesson by now about not cumming without his permission.

“Good girl,” he sighs. You nearly jump when his hand lands on your thigh, fingers sneaking below the hem of your skirt until the tips brush against your soaked panties. “Wow. You’re seriously this turned on being played with in front of everyone?”

“Jean. Please, turn it off. I’ll be good,” you whisper, eyes pleading with him.

“You’ve learned your lesson then?” he asks. He presses a kiss to your temple, some groans sounding from the surrounding people pretending to be disgusted by the public display. It’s all in good fun. If only they knew.

“Yes.”

He raises his brows.

You swallow, whispering so quietly barley you can hear yourself. “Yes, I’ve learned my lesson.”

His face lights up, hand squeezing your thigh affectionately. You’re grateful when the vibrations cease, but you’re still left throbbing and frustrated, especially when he continues tapping your clit through your panties.

You think it’s another couple hours when the party ends. Jean remained a man of his word—mostly. Sometimes the vibrations would start back up, but mainly to keep you on your toes.

On your way out, after saying goodbye to your friends, he drapes his coat over your shoulders and escorts you to the car with a heavy hand on your waist. You think you can feel everything. Every brush of his fingers, every strand of his hair that brushes your face when he leans down to whisper his lewd intentions and promises into your ear.

He opens the car door for you and buckles your seatbelt, a crooked, shit-eating grin plastered on his lips. The moment you think you’re finally safe, the vibrations are turned on full-force, attacking your clit. He watches you squirm, eyes glowing and predatory. You make a pathetic sound as he closes the door with a pleasant “watch your feet” and circles around to the driver’s side.

“Baby, ‘m gonna cum,” you tell him, back arching against the leather. You grip the console and jerk your head towards him. “Jean, ‘wanna be good for you. Please, don’t make me—“

“Hold it back for me.”

“I can’t!”

He listens, slowing the stimulation to an occasional and teasing pulse. At least now you can moan freely without being looked at oddly.

Jean’s hand on your body pulls you from your thoughts. He grabs your breast through your shirt and kneads the skin, pinching a nipple before venturing down, his palm fully cupping your pussy.

“Spread your legs more.”

You moan but obey, tears pricking your eyes when his touch leaves you.

“Jean, fuck. Fuck, please.”

“What is it, sweetheart? You look a little flustered,” he teases.

“Jean. I’m begging you. I’ll let you do anything you want to me if you just touch me right fucking now.”

His brows shoot up. Apparently that’s all it takes for him to pull off into the nearest parking lot and drag you into the backseat.

[subtle-edge-of-rot]

Good morning, I'm still on about this, my brain has so many thoughts all the time.

Especially with Vincent but it would be agony to know that what he's doing is turning you on too. The way he grips and pulls your hips, rolling and grinding his hips against yours to remind you how you work him up. He'll grope your chest and kiss your neck, harsh and jagged breaths while he tries to convince you to relieve him. He's even speaking to you, rasping out pleas while you run your hand over his happy trail.

He can feel your pulse going nuts with every kiss on the side of your neck, nearly groaning while he feels how hot and damp your sex is while he tries to get friction against it. Even the "Fuck, Vinny..." that you moan out when he brushes his thumbs over your nipples makes him more desperate. By now you're usable, surely. If it were how it normally were you'd be cumming for him already. Even better if you do implement a little bit of your own michevious talk, knowing that it's obvious how badly you want him but still following through with his punishment.

You'll make off hand comments about how hard he is for you, about how warm he's making you feel while he acts so desperate. That you've been missing him breeding you and that you didn't know he could want you this bad. But then you have to actually get up and take a lap outside before you break your own resolve, leaving your words and hot breaths to fester in Vincent's brain until the next time when you actually let him put it in. He'd run his fingers through his hair and sigh when you left, always weak for you but especially when you look at him so desperately back.

When he softens up he'd go upstairs to Bo in a similar predicament, the two of them sulking in the kitchen and just making sure that it's not just them going through hell but eachother as well. Vince might even sigh while he rests his head in his arms against the counter, not realizing just how much he needed you until he couldn't have you for a few days.

-💙

Good morning Blue my beloved 🖤 I am also still on this too. It’s been eating at my brain. I’m infected with it.

If I focus my mind hard enough I can almost taste the desperation of wanting him, and the frustration of not following through with what I want out of sheer stubbornness. It’s his punishment after all.

But the desperation behind the kisses on your neck, his fingers raking at your overly warm flesh, his hardness rubbing against you just right—oh it would be incredible. He’d be pleading you with actual words, reaching into the waistband of your pants because he just wants to feel how warm and wet you are. Telling him no and walking away would be torture for both of you…but the reunion later would be so fucking sweet.

He and Bo would be quite the pair, sulking in the kitchen. When Vincent sits down next to him, Bo would pass him a beer out of the six pack next to him. Silent pity party.

Meanwhile you’re taking your sexual frustration out on Lester. What a lucky guy haha, he’s enjoying the ride.

[wondersofdreaming]

My curls, your curls

Characters: Captain Syverson x female reader (3rd person, with thick curly hair)

Word count: 1.256

Warnings: There are a few sexy innuendoes mentioned, else it's fluff and cute and sugary sweet.

Author’s note: This is a boring piece of crap, because I haven't written anything good since January, and even then it was still a struggle to write. So I decided it was time to get out of the deep dark writer's block hole I've been buried in. Even though it's badly written and lacking some feeling and emotion, I hope it still conveys a little about how the captain feels about his wife.

Just a reminder to everyone that this is MY curly hair routine. It might not work for your hair type or your curls, but it works for me. My hair type is between 2c and 3a, I think, not sure though because every hair type website says different things. And I use the LCO method because it works for me, and add a curling gel after the cream because I want to give my hair some extra protection under the summer sun.

A list of the products used in this story is under the cut.

I do not own any characters in this short story, except the reader who is a figment of my imagination.

MY MASTERLIST

Feedback is appreciated.

It was early morning. The sun was slowly creeping its warm rays over Syverson’s naked back. He yawned and turned around, wanting to cuddle with his gorgeous wife, but she was not where he had left her the night before. Exhausted and satisfied, sleeping in his arms. Instead, his hand landed on something furry, his dog Aika, who moved to lick his face.

“Thanks, girl, I’m awake now,” he grunted but smiled at the loving German Shepherd. He listened to where his gorgeous wife could be and heard the shower going.

The captain walked to the slightly open bathroom door and pushed it open. Dan + Shay’s new single ‘Glad you exist’ was blasting through the waterproof speaker. His wife was currently lathering up her hair with her favourite shampoo for curly-haired women. She used something he had learned was called a ‘shampoo brush’, she massaged her entire scalp with it and washed the soap off her hair, while singing along to the music.

Sy leaned against the doorframe, enjoying the view of his naked wife, while she washed her long curly hair. Next was the detangling process. She used a lot of conditioner and the weird looking big round brush with the many different sizes of bristles.

She hummed to the next song, not noticing the mountain-sized man watching her. Finishing up her shower, she stepped out and nearly screamed as she saw her husband smirking from the door.

“You nearly gave me a heart attack,” she told him breathlessly, as her hand went to her heart that was drumming away beneath her palm.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I just couldn’t help myself,” he smiled. The captain stomped into the bathroom to give his wife a long sloppy kiss.

“I need to finish my routine,” she mumbled against his soft lips. He groaned, wanting more, but respected that her hair needed her attention more than he did. Instead, he sat on top of the toilet seat and watched as she flipped her head upside down.

She started with the leave-in-conditioner, slowly raking the creamy substance into her hair, then using a wet brush to comb it through, so every strand of hair would get some of the conditioner. Next in her routine, she squeezed a tiny dollop of hair cream onto her hand and applied it from the middle part of her hair to the ends.

After parting her hair by her temples, she used another brush, a styling brush she called it, to comb the soaking wet hair. Her motions were so soothing to watch, as she brushed through each section of her luscious hair. Next, she applied a frizz control gel. Sy watched as she carefully gathered the clumps of hair in her palms and lifted it towards her scalp before she started scrunching it. He could hear the wetness being squeezed, making the same noise as when she was overly wet and he was ramming uncontrollably into her.

“Why are you doing that?” he asked curiously, wondering how that would help her already beautiful looking hair, and he was trying to control his lustful thoughts.

“It helps define the hair and it creates volume,” she said a little out of breath. “Could you plug in my hairdryer with the diffuser, please?”

“Anything for you, my love,” he smacked her ass on his way to the cabinet, where he knew she stored her hairdryer.

He connected it and sat it down next to the sink. While he did that, she had put her hair in one of his old t-shirts. Sy remembered that he was about to donate a bunch of his old t-shirts when his wife had stopped him and said she could use them for drying her hair. He hadn’t understood why but had gladly given her the shirts. She slept in some of them and the rest were neatly stacked in a cabinet in the bathroom.

It made his heart skip a beat whenever he saw her in one of his shirts, old or new, she looked amazing no matter what.

The captain watched as she went through her skincare routine while waiting for her hair to dry a tiny bit. She was so meticulous about taking care of her skin, hair, Aika, and him too. She forced him to use sunscreen every single day, even on rainy days. Not just that, she had also implemented that he started taking care of his beard, so she had bought him a kit with a beard come, a tiny pair of scissors, beard shampoo and conditioner, and beard oil. His lovely wife had chosen the scent from her knowledge of what he liked, but also something she thought smelled amazing. It was musky with some apple undertones and hints of vanilla.

He was so far in his thoughts he didn’t notice it had been 10 minutes, not until his cheeky wife threw the wet t-shirt in his face.

“Hey!”

“Thought you needed a wake-up call,” she giggled. The soft sound of her happy voice just made his heart soar, and he forgot all about her little prank.

She diffused her hair until it was almost dry, and then turned around to look at her husband, who was sitting, looking scared as she stood with the diffuser like it was a rifle.

“Your turn, captain,” she teased.

“My turn for what?” he looked profoundly confused at his beloved woman, who stood before him in nothing but a bathrobe, her long curly hair cascading down her back.

“It’s time that we start on your curly hair routine too, dear husband.”

Sy looked at himself in the mirror above the sink. He had quit the army a year earlier and had let his hair grow out, not wanting to waste time on cutting it every two weeks. He looked carefully at the dark brown curls sticking out in all directions.

His wife was standing in front of him, ready to guide him through it. He smiled at her and let her do her thing. She forced him into the shower, used her shampoo and conditioner. Then while he was sitting down. She used a curl enhancing cream to make his curl pop even more, and a gel so his curls would hold their, well, curl. He then managed to sit through 10 minutes of her hovering over his head with the diffuser.

The captain was rewarded with a kiss when she finished. She picked up a three toothed pick, called a ‘spriggle’ and lifted his curls for volume.

The last part of her hair care routine was to put in some argan oil to lock in the moisture. She handed Sy the spriggle.

“Will you lift my curls for me?”

He would do anything for his wife. Sit through a hair care routine, walk through fire, eat 40 hotdogs to win a teddy bear she had her eyes on, adopt all the dogs, cats, horses, goats, any animal at the shelter because she felt bad for them not having a loving home.

The woman who was not only his very best friend, having known her since kindergarten, but she was truly also the love of his life. The only human he needed to be happy. And she waited for him while he was in Iraq. She deserved everything she wished for and more.

This captain was utterly devoted to the woman who just threw her robe in his face, catching him off guard for the second time that morning, a soft smirk spread on her pink lips.

Products used:

Shea Moisture Coconut & Hibiscus Curl & Shine Shampoo and Conditioner

HEETA Shampoo Brush (Purple)

Michel Mercier hair detangler for thick hair

As I Am leave-in conditioner

Epic Professional Quick Dry Hair Brush

Briogeo Curl Charisma Rice amino Avocado Leave-In Defining Créme

Denman Classic Styling Brush 7 Rows - D3

Briogeo Curl Charisma Frizz Control Gel

Segbeauty Hair Diffuser attachment

The Spriggle

The Beard Struggle (Viking Storm scent)

Aveda be curly curl enhancer

Aveda confixor liquid gel

The Aveda products and the male curly hair routine is inspired by this video from Manes By Mell

[staripheral]

➺ 𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏 1 & 2 𝙈𝙀𝙉 𝘾𝙊𝙈𝙁𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙏𝙃𝙀𝙄𝙍 𝙎/𝙊 𝘼𝙁𝙏𝙀𝙍 𝘼 𝙉𝙄𝙂𝙃𝙏 𝙏𝙀𝙍𝙍𝙊𝙍

𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘤𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘧𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘥𝘦

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 : 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙥𝙖𝙣𝙞𝙘-𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙝𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙧, 𝙝𝙮𝙥𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

★ JONATHAN J. would wake to the slightest of movements, the quietest of whimpers, and to the tiniest of tremors raking through your body as you were squeezed to his muscular side.  He was an extremely light sleeper, something he naturally acquired to remain vigilant (because a certain adopted son of the Joestar Family surely had it out for him).  Immediately, his eyes blinked open and he moved onto his side, cooing gently into your ear and rubbing slow circles with his calloused fingers on your hip.  While he had hoped to simply coax your dreams into something more delightful, you awoke with a loud gasp after a few moments of experiencing his earnest touch.  You hesitantly turned your head towards his large figure in bed and felt the tears trickle from the corners of your eyes; you could see the pain in Jonathan’s eyes as well as his own features contort to express his discomfort of seeing you in such an agonized state.

“My love, please… tell me what troubles you?” He pressed a tender kiss to the crown of your head and brought up his palm to feel the skin of your complexion, carefully brushing away the several tears you could not find within yourself to hold in.

“J-Jojo… Oh, Jonathan, it was horrible!  You-- You were murdered, and I was forced t-to watch the life drain from your eyes and--” Jonathan’s brows furrowed further, witnessing your pain: your damp cheeks, red eyes, and uneven breaths.  He pressed himself further towards your shaking body underneath the silky sheets, and removed his hand from the side of your face only to replace it behind your head and press your face into his bare chest.

“How I hate to see you so upset, my love… But, know this.  I will never leave your side, not even for an instant.  My soul is bound to yours as yours is to mine.  Never shall I part from you, in life or death, and I do not plan on leaving you alone in this lifetime, my love.  I am positive I am to remain by your side for the rest of eternity… and no man, woman, or enemy could ever remove my promise to you, ⌜f/n⌟.” His kind words only made your tears flow stronger, and he panicked for a moment, wondering if he had been out of place to say such things.  But, when he felt your wails begin to even out into soft, short breaths and your trembling vanished, leaving your body moving with every inhale and exhale, and eventually your tears came to a stop, he found he could relax at last seeing as you were not in torment any longer.  “Sleep well, my love.”

He pressed a kiss unto your lips and pulled away with your hand in his, holding both atop his broad chest.  Goodness, what he wouldn’t do to ease the pain of the one he loved most.

★ DIO B. had not been in your presence the moment you had been awoken from your night terror.  Your hands would not stop shaking as they gripped the sheets and pulled them off your damp body and you found that you barely had the strength to move your feet to plant themselves atop the soft rug by your bedside.  You stood up, having to bring a hand to the footboard to support yourself, and a hand to your mouth to stifle an oncoming sob.  There was only one person you trusted yourself with in this kind of state, but he was nowhere to be seen-- at least, not yet.

You wrapped your arms around your torso in an attempt to comfort yourself and your voice echoed through the Joestar Mansion, searching for your beloved.  Eventually, you heard his voice call out to you and you ran (or, at least walked as fast as you could) towards its source; the den area.

The door was cracked open just a sliver and you gazed inside, spotting Dio on the loveseat, reading a novel in the dead of night by himself.  You squeezed through the entrance and closed the door as delicately as you could.

“And what is it that would require my utmost attention in the midst of the night, my dear ⌜f/n⌟?” Dio questioned, not even looking up from the place he was in his book, although you could tell you had his ears open for you, as he had not turned another page in his book.

“...Dio.  It is nothing… I-I just wanted to keep you company.” You whispered, coming around the side of the loveseat and remaining at his side, giving him space to himself, but also being close enough that you were able to feel his warmth from afar as well.  You feared he would push you and your stupidity aside, calling you out for allowing yourself to be overcome by your fears.  Although he was soft for you, you knew he still had his own limits, which you deeply respected.

Dio looked over at you slyly, his usual smirk gone and his eyes narrowed in suspicion.  “After seeing you sound asleep in our chambers, I’m not quite so sure that you could have awoken just for a bit of attention, hm?  What dreams plague you this late?”

You sighed.  Nothing gets past his watchful, crimson eyes.  As you wiped the tears from your eyes, you began to recount the atrocious visions that haunted you; that of death, destruction, and deceit.  Dio nodded thoughtfully, having put down his book, but still staring into the flames of the pit before him.  You wrung your hands harshly, trying to quell your emotions as best you could.

He suddenly took your right hand in his and pulled you towards him so that your back lay against his chest and he picked his book up once again.  “Perhaps you would like to read this with me, to get your mind off of the foolish fantasies you dream of?  After all, how can anything harm you if you are here in my company.” He said, mocking you slightly.

If he were being honest with himself, Dio would admit that this situation made him uncomfortable, almost out of place.  But when he felt your head slightly nod against him, he found himself reading aloud, the only thing he could do (or at least knew what to do at that moment) to provide you comfort in that very moment.

As he read chapters upon chapters, with his deep, rich voice running dry, Dio felt your figure cease its subtle movements and slump into another deep slumber.  He carefully slid out from underneath you and kneeled beside the loveseat, tucking his toned arms underneath the back of your knees and the length of your shoulders and lifting your limp body into his arms, carrying you back to your chambers, where he intended to join and guard you from any more dreams that wished to terrorize your good-natured soul.  

“Don’t believe in such trivial fantasies, my dear.  I would never allow for us to part.  Even fate itself will not be enough to divide us.  Sleep well, dearest.”

★ JOSEPH J. was a very, very deep sleeper.  No man alive could devise a wake up call loud or obnoxious enough to make him arise from his sleep.  But… a woman such as yourself happened to find out what woke him up on the day that you experienced a terrifying dream.  You had tossed and turned, cried out and begged for help, yet no one had come to rescue your pitiful self.  You awoke with a start, your figure flying up from its position in bed.  Joseph’s heavy arm that had once lay across your waist had been tossed to the side, and his eyelids remained closed while his snores filled the quiet room.  You clutched your chest in an attempt to control your breathing, tears dripping down onto the covers of your bed as you tried to maintain composure.  You had to leave the bedroom, and fast, lest you feel even more suffocated than before.

The loss of your presence woke up the goofster.  There was no heat, no mass weighing down the bed in the space next to him; you were gone.  That was his motivation to open his eyes and look at the time by the clock beside him.  2:31 AM.  The horror.  

Joseph knew he would not be able to sleep without you by his side, so he begrudgingly sat up and exited the bedroom, rubbing his tired eyes and groaning at his sore muscles.  His bare feet padded against the floor, making a loud entrance into the kitchen, so loud that he had not even heard your quiet, muffled sobs as you sat on the floor, back pressed against the cabinets with your face buried in your hands.

His eyes softened.  He grew quiet.  He was never quiet.  You were scared to even look up at him.  Was he upset?  Was this another trick of your mind?  You were so lost, so confused, shaking so violently in your nightgown that you became so sure that this was real.  Your gaze finally moved upwards to look at Joseph, who had approached you with soft, saddened eyes as he kneeled before you.

“Jo,” --you hiccupped-- “Jo… I-I’m so sorry, did I wake you?” You attempted to wipe the tears away vigorously, poorly covering up your terrified state.  Joseph, the ever-observant man that he is, knew better than to fall for your words.  You were so scared.  He could practically feel the fear radiating from your body as his fingers extended to tuck a piece of your hair behind your ear and cup his palm against the side of your neck.  “Joseph?”  You asked timidly, as he remained silent and reached your hands out to touch his face.

However, you were the priority in Joseph’s mind, and in no way would he let you suffer as he often found himself after troublesome nights, especially when you were always there for him in his times of need. Instead, he moved his hands to grip your sides and smoothly lifted you to sit atop the countertop, leaving you squeaking in surprise.  This side of Joseph was so unfamiliar to you… yet you loved it all the same. 

His hands tenderly smoothed up and down your sides before engulfing you in an embrace.  He wordlessly connected his lips to your temple, holding them there for what seemed like forever until he finally felt the sobs rack your body, your pain being released into the air.  Joseph’s teeth clenched as you gripped his shirt in your dainty hands, cries filling his unusual silence as he let you rid yourself of the suffering you were experiencing.  He only moved to either smooth the back of your hair by running his fingers through it idly, or to press the lightest of kisses to your temple, so that you knew he was there, that he would not judge, and that he would always protect you from the bad, even from within, until you fell asleep, peacefully breathing against his shoulder with your arms wrapped around his neck.

Joseph was a chatty, intolerable brat at times… but he always, always wished to bring you the kind of serenity you’d introduced into his life.  And he realized that sometimes, just by being at your side he was able to help rid yourself of the demons that lived inside of you, as you had saved him from the demons that once lurked within him.

★ CAESAR Z. woke to your piercing shriek sounding out in the middle of the night.  He moaned something incoherently to his amore as his eyes desperately tried to open, only fully widening as he felt a petite hand shake against the bulk of his bicep.  “C-Caesar, please wake up!”

He sprung up into a seated position to look at you, his frazzled partner.  His head whipped back and forth for signs of any potential danger.  When he found nothing strange, his head turned back to you to figure out what was wrong.  Your lips wobbled, your eyes producing streams of endless tears, and your hand shook as you gripped his arm again.  “Y-You’re alive!?”

“Of course I am alive, tesora, what made you believe I wasn’t?” He questioned, gingerly taking your face in his hands, bringing his forehead to yours, and furrowing his eyebrows in curiosity.  “Did you have a night terror, ⌜f/n⌟?”

Your waterworks were the only response he required to answer that question.  As he wiped away your tears and nuzzled impossibly closer to you, your own hands clutched at his sides, as to ascertain for themselves whether he was reality or some sort of dream.

“Oh, tesora, please do not cry.  I promise you, I am real.  Do you feel my hands on your face?”  You nodded, the air around you feeling a lot thinner than it did before.  You began to wail in a panicked state.  “Shh… It is alright.  My lips, right here, “--he kissed your left eyelid--”and here,”--then pressed another to your right eyelid--”are real.”  His hands began to peel away from your cheeks before you desperately tried to grab at them.  He could tell you were so scared, so vulnerable and afraid of losing him, as he was of losing you.  “Amore-- I’m here.  You can touch me, I won’t disappear.  I will not vanish.  My place is here, loving you forever.  I am not dead, nor will I be anytime soon.  Oh, don’t cry… please breathe with me.”

His continued coos of affection, his whispered words of encouragement, and his gentle touches provided you comfort in due time.  His words were laced with a velvety, relaxing tone that surely would’ve put you to bed much sooner had you not been so frantic in your state of mind.

“I’m so sorry, Caesar… I’m so sorry for waking you up and bothering you with my mindless nonsense.” You spoke quietly, forehead still pressed to his as you laid down next to one another for the second time that night.  He shook his head immediately, his bangs tickling the skin of your forehead.

“Don’t ever apologize… You were scared, and not over something such as ‘mindless nonsense’.  I want you to reach out for me, to find solace in me, tesora.  I want to cure you of your fear.  I want to save you from your darkest thoughts.  You mustn’t be sorry, tesora, for everything that has happened does not bother me in the slightest…  I adore you, ⌜f/n⌟ .” He spoke calmly, slowly so that his words would lull you into sleep, hopefully this time blessed with happiness.

Caesar smiled as you snuggled in close and thanked him for everything.  He did not say anything in return and made sure you were comfortable before shutting his eyes once more.  ‘No,’ He thought to himself.  ‘Thank you, tesora, for giving me everything.’

𝙖/𝙣 : 𝘰𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴, 𝘪 𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘪 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴.  𝘪'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘢 𝘣𝘪𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘴𝘰 𝘸𝘦'𝘭𝘭 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘶𝘮𝘣𝘭𝘳 𝘱𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘴 𝘮𝘦 :')) 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘸𝘢𝘺𝘴, 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦 𝘪𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘳, 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩!!  𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘢𝘥𝘷𝘪𝘤𝘦, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵!  𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 <3

[cyberesc]

Gimme Attention | Damian Wayne

paring: older!Damian Wayne x reader (gender neutral)

synopsis: damian wants your attention however you’re too busy playing animal crossing. 

rating: fluff

warnings: none (?)

word count: 669

note: not so sure how I feel about this one,,also its 3 am and i have class in a few hours,,insomnia sucks but animal crossing helps pass the time <3

“Beloved?” Damian called out as he entered your apartment, slipping off his shoes on the rack by the entrance. “I’m in here.” You called out. He hummed in acknowledgment, slipping off his coat and hanging it on the coat rack. 

Before making his way to your bedroom, he took liberty in looking around your apartment, making sure all your windows were locked and was free of any intruders. Once he was satisfied, he made his way to your room.

His eyes softened when he spotted your figure curled up in your bedsheets. Dressed in his oversized hoodie, you were lying down playing with your Nintendo switch; using it to keep you busy as you waited for him to come home.

He quickly slipped into some comfier clothes, crawling under the sheets to engulf you in his arms. With an arm draped over your stomach and his head resting in the junction of your neck, his eyes drifted towards your screen, watching as your animal crossing character ran around your island.

He hummed in amusement when he felt you tense in slight panic over a spider. You yelped as it chased you, running away from it so it wouldn't bite your character. You pouted as your character got bit, the reflection of your pouty face displayed on the screen once it turned black.

Turning your head to look at Damian, you saw an amused smile on his face. "What are you smiling at, huh?" You teased. "Just at your inability to catch a spider." You dramatically gasped. "It’s not my fault I don’t do well with bugs." Damian rolled his eyes, lightly brushing his lips on the side of your jaw.

He smirked as you squirmed away, trying to maintain your focus on the game. Before you could continue, Damian turned your chin towards him, pressing his lips against yours. Your eyes widened in surprise before closing, focusing on the feeling of his soft lips.

Too engrossed into the kiss, you didn't realize Damian took the switch out of your hands. Instead, you used your free hands to tangle themselves in his curly hair, slightly tugging on the hairs on the nape of his neck as he deepened the kiss.

He slowly parted from you, eyes raking over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Feeling satisfied with your flushed appearance, he turned onto his back, pulling out his phone to distract himself.

You started at him for a second, a pout forming on your lips. "You tease." You whined. You leaned into him, curling yourself into his side, pressing a kiss on his cheek. After a moment Damian clicked off his phone with a sigh, chucking it somewhere on the mattress. “You brat.” He mumbled, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You sighed in content as you were smothered with the warmth of your boyfriend. Shifting from your position, you attempted to grab your switch that was placed on the nightstand. He grunted, nudging your arm away back to your side. Stubbornly ignoring his silent warning, you tried again, attempting to reach for it a second time.

Before your fingertips could touch the console, Damian grabbed your wrist and pinned it beside your head. Hovering on top of you, he placed his other hand on the other side of your head, pining you against the mattress. Flustered from the sudden position, you turned your head, averting your eyes. 

You heard a quiet huff from above you, feeling the pad of his fingertips under your chin. You looked up at him, finding him already looking at you intently. You chuckled nervously at the silence. You opened your mouth, about to break the silence before he squished your cheeks together with his hand and brought you into a searing kiss.

He pulled away, making sure you maintained eye contact, “Pay attention to me and only me.” A smile graced your lips, your thumb gently brushing against his bottom lip before you indulged in another kiss.

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