#or got to a non silent floor of the library

[noonetoldmeineededausername]

how the fuck do people get to uni and not understand that silent means I should not be able to hear your crinkly crisp packet, take that outside

[viccz]

Confessing to the brothers.

!non gender spes mc! !flUff-

Lucifer

He was lying in his bed. Diavlo had given him a break from paperwork, so Lucifer was relaxing as much as he could. He was listening to his music when he heard a knock on the door. He sighed “Mammon! I’m not giving you any grimm!” When he opened the door he saw you. His demeanor changed. “Ah, Mc. Please, come in.” You timidly walked in. He motioned you onto his bed and sat next to you. “Well, whats the meaning of you coming here, Mc?” You glared down at the floor, unable to look at him. He held your chin, forcing you to look at him. He didn’t say anything, he didn’t need to. His eyes said everything for him. Pleading for you to tell him why you’ve shown up to his room in the middle of the night. “Lucifer, I think i’m in love with you.” He was shocked. He stared at you, eyes widened. He was so happy that you felt the same way. “Oh my darling Mc..I’ve waited so long to hear you say that to me.” He hugged you, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were going to be there with him for a while.

Mammon

He was scrolling through devil-gram when he heard a knock on his door. “Eh? Who’s there?” When he opened the door he saw you. His face lit up. He was so happy to see you. “M-Mc! Whatcha doin’ here?” You walked further into his room, sitting on his couch. He followed behind. “Mammon, I wanna be with you.” He paused. What? Huh? Is he hearing ya right? He froze. He just stared at you, mouth dropped. He didn’t know wether to wrap his arms around you or hide his face in the pillow cushion. “We-Well of course you wanna be with the great Mammon. You’re lucky cause..I..I wanna be with you too..” You smiled at him and wrapped your arms around him. He couldn’t help but tear up. He rested his temple against yours and held you in his arms.

Leviathan

You and him were watching an Anime together. He was really involved with it. “Uhm..Levi? There’s something I need to tell you.” Oh god. You were gonna tell him you hated him. You were gonna call him a loser otaku. You were gonna- “Levi, I love you.” He quickly turned to you. “You-You-You love- me!?” his face turned crimson red so he quickly hid his face in his hands. “I..I feel the same way..” You hugged him and he froze again. He couldn’t believe someone as sweet as you would ever love a loser otaku like him. He feels tears flow down his cheeks. You noticed his sniffles and wiped his tears away. You held his head in your hands and kissed his temple. “y-y-you M-Mc w-whdhdhdhd” Levi.exe has stopped working.

Satan

He was sitting in the library. Fully focused on the words on the page. So focused on fact, that he didn’t notice you sitting down next to him. He felt a tap on his shoulder and flinched. He was about to yell at the person until he realized that it’s you. “Well, what a nice surprise. What brings you here?” You couldn’t muster the words out of you. What if he got mad? What if he didn’t feel the same? You stuttered but went silent, giving up on what you were gonna say. “Mc, tell me. Im not feeling very patient toda-“ “I-I love you!” the second you said that, you got up to leave. But he grabbed onto your arm, not letting you go. He sat you back down and he stared into your eyes. “Oh, Mc..I feel the exact same way about you.” you blushed. He glanced down to your lips and smiled. “Why don’t we go to my room? We can have some more privacy there..”

Asmodeus

He had just got done spring shopping. He invited you over to see the clothes on him. He had bought you both matching outfits and he had you both try them on. “You’ve got a great fashion sense Asmo. That’s one of the reasons I love-“ you stopped yourself. Asmo felt himself blush. “Kyaa!! Mc!! I love you too! I really mean it. I love you sooo much!” you blushed and looked away from him. “You’re just saying that.” He grabbed your hands and pulled you closer to him. “Mc, I mean it. You mean the world to me. Your beauty is second to mine, how could I not?” He giggled at your reaction and hugged you. To celebrate you two being official, you two took a nice relaxing bath together.

Beelzebub

He’s been a little worried about you. Recently you’ve been acting shy around him and he had no idea why. He came up to your room and knocked on your door. “Mc? Can I please come in?” He heard rustling behind the door and you slowly peeked through. “Oh, hey Beel.” He made his way in and sat down on your bed. “Mc..are you mad at me? You’ve been avoiding me lately and..” he trailed off. He looked down at the floor, awaiting your response. “Beel, I’m not mad. It’s the opposite actually. I’m..i’m in love with you.” He stared at you. He couldn’t believe it. You loved him too? This was great! He stood up and hugged you. He wouldn’t let you go. He nuzzled into your cheek and smiled.

Belphegor

Belphie has been confusing you lately. He always hugs you and insists you two sleep side by side, but you’re both still just friends. You were planning on confronting him before your nap session today. When you got to the attic, he said “Ah Mc, you’re finally here. Welp cmere, let’s get to napping.” you frowned. “Belphie, you’ve been sending me mixed signals. I’ve just been thinking about us and..do you like me back or not?” He stared at you. His mouth curled into a smile and he started laughing. “You humans always have to overthink things don’t you? Of course I like you Mc. Now let’s cuddle.” He pulled you into his arms and nuzzled into your chest. You kissed his head goodnight and drifted off to sleep.

HAHAHAH IVE BEEN WROTONF THIS FOR HOUR HAHAH. hope y’all enjoy this as much as teh kags one.

[dotieeee]

The Dream That Got Away

Chapter 5

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x You (no Y/N!)

This is a multi-chapter fic — Weekly updates (either Saturday or Sunday) because I found a rhythm of sorts lol

(The entire fic has been outlined, so I will see this to the end, you have my word)

*******************************************************************************************

Link to the Masterlist

Overall Warnings!! Take heed:

Morpheus is DARK – in canon, he changes for the better (or at least, tries to – but we don’t do canon lol, so he goes even more batshit crazy) cue obsession, manipulation, possessiveness, powerplay

18+ ONLY – explicit scenes will be present, some explicit language

DUB-CON and NON-CON scenes

Character death (sort of)

Creator vs Creation drama

And other dark stuff that may be added in the future

This chapter’s warnings:

Non-con touching and kissing

Graphic depictions of violence

powerplay

You have been warned!! Proceed with caution!!!

Link to the previous chapter

Chapter 5: Your King

Perhaps you had been foolish to think that your master’s blossoming infatuation was just a passing fancy – that he’d eventually set sight on someone else if you’d just kept avoiding him. That faint glimmer of hope was your only solace; but even that, and your chances of living a normal life as a nobody in the realm of the Dreaming, was just crushed by no more than a simple bunch of stupid red flowers. You had nothing going for you now: you had no one you can trust and nowhere to go. Like he did in the library, he had completely backed you into a corner with no chance of ever escaping.

You had never felt so helpless in your entire, albeit still short, existence. And this was all the doing of an Endless you had sworn to devote your life to.

Not that your loyalty to your duties and his realm has wavered – it never will for as long as you breathe – but what he has so far implied seems to ask for a whole new kind of commitment altogether.

So, why you?  He is Dream of the Endless - he, of all beings, could easily woo any goddess, queen, or celestial being. You had heard he was wed once to one of the Greek Muses. Surely, any of them would make a perfect match to one such as him. Not you, nor any of his creations could possibly meet their creator’s needs.

Never mind what he needs – is this something you want? You had been avoiding this question in your head since the Dream Lord kissed you. Would you be able to look at him as someone else besides your king? Would he take it well if you said ‘no’ right now and be done with it? Would he force you? Perhaps it’s better that you give up and let him have his way. And where is that useless little voice when you need it?

“What do you think of that now, huh? Where are you? Why won’t you fucking talk to me?!”

You’re in your chambers, yelling at nobody in the dark. Just a few moments ago, after you read that awful thing in the florist’s manual, you ran to your room and dragged the sofa to the door, barricading yourself in. You closed the door to the balcony and drew all the curtains, so you’re left with just the faint glow of the setting sun coming through the brocade drapes on the windows, and the soft shimmer of the painted night sky in the ceiling.

You’re now huddled behind the four-poster bed, knees to your chest, scared out of your wits. Your screaming turns into uncontrollable sobbing as you hug your legs for comfort that won’t come.

“I need your help, I don’t know what to do anymore,” you whisper through your tears, hoping for even just one snarky retort from that resident at the back of your head.

But it stays silent, and you’re left without help, alone to deal with that storm of emotions in you that refuse to let up.

***

You’re lying on the floor in a fetal position, never having moved an inch from behind the bed’s headboard. You’ve lost track of time since you had drawn the curtains and had been drifting in and out of sleep. You had heard knocking and perhaps the faint voice of Morwyn calling from outside your door. You also vaguely remember responding how “you wanted to be left alone,” but you’re not sure if she heard. Frankly, you don’t care – you know you’ll eventually need to snap out of it, but right now, you just wanted to stay away from anyone and anything that reminded you of him.

There’s that knock, again.

“M’lady? Lady Mera?”

It was the muffled voice of Morwyn from the other side of the door.

“Please, lady Mera… it’s been more than two days,” she calls out imploringly. “I just wanted to know if you’re all right…”

So, two days since your self-imposed lockdown. Perhaps it’s the genuine concern in her voice that compels you – you slowly get to your feet and approach the door, not quite ready to open it yet. You sit on the chaise you had barricaded the door with. Your voice comes out hoarse from being unused for over 48 hours.

“Morwyn?”

“Lady Mera! Are you okay?” There is a hint of relief in her tone, having finally heard from you.

“No need to concern yourself with me, Morwyn. I’m doing fine. There was this dream that just… drained all my energy. I just need time to recuperate, please,” You lie through gritted teeth, doing your best to sound as feeble as you can.

“Oh my! Do you need Lucienne? I can call her for y –”

“No!” Realizing that you might’ve sounded a little too forceful, you amend, “No, you don’t have to do that, she’s already busy enough as it is.” Lucienne had a habit of asking questions you’d rather not answer, and you’re still not sure how much information she relays to the Dream Lord. There is no way you can trust her to keep this to herself should you ask for advice.

Maybe you could trust Morwyn?

“M’lady? Please. I wouldn’t know what to tell the Dream King when he comes back, he’d be so worried.”

Maybe not. You had to distract her then, so you can make a run for it.

But, where would you go?

“Morwyn? I’m kind of hungry, actually. Would you do me a solid and get me some food, please?”

“O-of course! I could run quickly to the kitchens and get you breakfast. They prepared muffins and clotted cream…”

That won’t do – you need her out of the way for as long as possible. “I was thinking something more comforting… could you make me some soup, please? Preferably with beans, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, absolutely! Anything. It’ll take me some time, but I’ll have it ready. Will you be letting me in, then?”

I’ll be gone by then, you think, but respond, “Yes, yes, I will. Thank you Morwyn.”  And I’m sorry, you add in your head.

“Not at all, m’lady. I’ll be back!”

Leaning against the door, you strain for the sound of her retreating footsteps. You wait for a few more minutes to ensure she has gone down the staircase before you pull the chaise lounge away from the door and quietly step out of the room.

Descending the wide marble stairs in a hush, you get a terribly brilliant idea of where to go.

But you’d be breaking one of your master’s supreme laws in the process.

***

Whenever you’re a bundle of nerves – and you have been more often than before for the past few weeks – a visit to your dreamers always lifts your spirits. This time, however, in a recurring dream of Misaki Sato, you pace to and fro in the flat she shared with her partner. Your anxiety grows by the minute – you’re aware that what you’re about to do would be extremely reckless, not to mention frightfully dangerous for a myriad of reasons. And once you did it, there was no going back: you’d forever be branded an outlaw, cut off from the land you called home, for eternity.

Which is why you take your time recalling the conversation you had with Fiddler’s Green when you asked him how to get to the Waking World.

***

“Ah, but would a young, little dream such as yourself do with that sort of knowledge?”

Fiddler’s Green, or Gilbert, as he liked to be called, seemed to be genuinely surprised at the question you had brought up. His gentle breeze whooshed against your sitting form a tad more urgently as if trying to dissuade you from your line of questioning.

You gave him a shrug and said, “Nothing, I suppose. I just heard that some nightmares have gone there. The Dream Lord has been looking for them.”

“Well, I suppose if it’s for the sake of curiosity, then I shall have to oblige.”  His good-humoured voice echoed in your head and with the wind, the grass, and the leaves of the trees he cradled waving in his response.  “You see, we Dreaming folk have this incredible ability to will ourselves into the wonderful world of the mortals whose dreams we shape. It is quite humbling how much power our Dream King was willing to impart to us. In fact, with a thorough and detailed imagining of the place you should like to appear to, you can manifest the form with which you prefer with little to no effort.”

“You have to keep in mind, though, little one, that such a world isn’t so welcoming of our kind,” He continued, his tone morose, the atmosphere stilling with it. “You could easily find yourself trapped in its innate darkness, and the more malevolent forces of humanity might sap your strength and use it against you. The Dreamfolk whom I’ve known had spent their time in the Waking return an empty shell; the Dream Lord’s act of unmaking had been but an act of mercy. The nightmares, however, mirror that evil, and it is by the use of, and even by inspiring it, that they survive.”

Cautioning you with a final gentle blow that whipped your hair in the air, he said, “Perhaps it’s best that you occupy yourself with much more pleasant thoughts of our Realm, little one, lest curiosity gets the better of you.”

You only hummed in reply.

***

You had ceased your pacing a few moments ago. You now sit on the secondhand, threadbare sofa, mulling over what Gilbert has told you. According to him, you needed only to will yourself to appear in a place you know in great detail, or there could be dire consequences if you land somewhere you weren’t familiar with. Finally, you get on your feet, looking around the dream you’ve brought yourself to: it’s one of Misaki’s memory of her partner, Gillespie, leaving her in the flat – her final memory of them together, before her dear Gillie disappeared, never to be heard of again.

Meaning no disrespect to this recurring dream, you ask yourself: is this dingy Victorian-era flat detailed enough for you to make an appearance?

You walk around, trying to find inconsistencies with the dream. The most glaring one is the odd fact that in the two small rooms of the tiny flat, there were no closets. You had been closely following the recent fashion trends at the turn of the century, and you had known for quite some time that women in general owned more articles of clothing compared to men. You’re looking at two women who lived together, so the absence of a wardrobe is suspicious. The other, more subtle clue is that every mirror you find in the entire flat seemed to have a single, large spider-web crack with unusually similar patterns.

Realizing that Misaki must be suppressing this memory, you halt your inspection and decide this wouldn’t do. You had to move on to a different dream that showed all the signs of being copied down to the least visible hairline crack on the walls. You make a mental reminder to come back to Misaki in the future to see how you can help her move on from her girlfriend’s disappearance. Workwise, there was nothing you could do to a memory she refuses to acknowledge.

***

It was an exhausting feat trying to find a dream that met your qualifications. Thankfully, after a long and arduous search, you land in the well-kept greenhouse of Rafaela Murray.

Rafaela and her husband own a mini grocer known for their inventive and unique flavours of homemade jam, jellies, and marmalades which you had inspired in her previous dreams. Her business, formerly on the brink of bankruptcy, is now thriving, not only because of their famed mixed-berries jam which you had helped her discover but also because of the lush garden that supplied most of their fresh ingredients. Taking slow steps around the lovingly cared-for greenhouse, you note the rows upon rows of little berry bushes, all heavy with fruit nearly ripe for harvest. Outside, Rafaela herself is picking oranges from the citrus trees, humming to herself. In the air is the delicious smell of sugar and fruit boiling away in her kitchen.

In this memory-dream of hers, you find the most optimal location to make your first-ever appearance in the Waking realm.

Taking in a deep breath, you mentally search for that figurative link between the Dreaming and the Waking. Inside your mind, it manifests in the form of a string – instinctively, you knew that once you gripped the string, you would be taken to the Waking World and ultimately betray your sovereign.

As soon as your fingers touch the string, you feel the beginning of a tug in your belly button, a telltale sign that the link is starting to work. A sense of panic overwhelms you the moment the tug grows more insistent – as if burned, you withdraw your fingers and break the connection.

Treason. What in the ever-living fuck were you thinking? You mentally scold yourself, breaking out of your trance. A part of you is disappointed at yourself for backing out of the plan cowardly, but a bigger part of you seemed to struggle greatly with the idea of leaving behind the Dreaming and in turn, abandoning your dreamers. Gilbert was right – knowing this information had almost led you to desert your function and seal your own demise at the hands of your King. Without preamble, you go back to the sandy shores of the sea of dreams and hurriedly return to the palace before your absence is reported and he gets wind of what you had just attempted.

You get into the castle without being approached by anyone, but that luck soon dissipates before you even ascend the marble staircase on the way to your room.

Your name is called by Lucienne before you take the first flight of steps. You watch in trepidation as she makes her way to you.

“Mera, have you been to the dreams again? Morwyn has told me that she left to get you breakfast, but you weren’t in your chambers when she got back. That was two days ago.” She says, tilting her head and arching her eyebrows in a questioning manner.

Before you could respond, however, she delivers a blow that you had hoped never to hear.

“You’d better explain that to the Dream Lord. He has summoned you to his throne room.”

Her news has you reeling, and although you try not to show it, Lucienne must’ve seen a flash of fear in your eyes, for she looks over you with concern. She gives you a short rub on the bicep and softly says, “You’ll be fine, Mera. He’s not angry, he just wants to see you.”

This fact does not reassure you – in fact, it heightens your sense of dread, but you follow her as she leads you to the towering doors to the Dream King’s throne. She pushes the doors open, their sound reverberating throughout the vast halls and starry ceilings. Both your heels echo against the stone floors as you approach the winding staircase leading to the monarch’s imposing, intricately carved throne.

You’ve only been to this hall a handful of times; you could only describe it as beautiful in a cold and haunting way. The galaxy-laden skies and the stained glass provide a stark contrast to the gray hues of stone arches and pillars, and to the rich, black robes that the waiting king preferred to wear at all times. You avoid looking in his direction as much as you can and instead focus on the images that the stained glass portrayed. To your horror, every panel had but one image: you, clad in blood-crimson, with that ruby on your head. Lucienne seems to ignore this detail, and as you arrive at the foot of the stairs, she announces your presence.

“Lucienne, leave us.”

Bowing solemnly, she turns to leave, but not before flashing you an encouraging look to try to calm you. But then she closes the heavy doors behind her, effectively leaving you at the mercy of the Endless you had tried so hard to give a wide berth to.

The Dream King starts descending from his perch on the high throne with slow, deliberate steps. Looking down at your feet, you could hear your heart thrumming heavily in your ears as he draws closer, so you clutch your hands to your chest in a vain effort to soothe it. As you wait with bated breath, his footsteps come to halt just mere inches before you, invading your personal space just as he did in the library. Inside, you quell that growing urge to run from him, knowing any escape would now be futile.

He starts speaking in this velvety, breathy voice you know so well.

“Lucienne tells me you have been quite elusive these past days, my little dream.”

Trying to gauge his reaction, you finally turn your gaze to him – only to immediately regret it, his heated smirk freezing you on the spot. He starts circling you closely, like a predator about to zero in on its prey.

“Don’t think I’m not aware of your little visits in the ocean of Dreams, my Mera.”  He drawls in a teasing tone.  “Naughty as you have been, I can not find in myself to be upset. In fact, it just further solidifies my choice.”

Abruptly he stops before you once more, addressing you with all the authority of an Endless sovereign:

“I trust that you know my intentions by now, my dream. I hereby declare your new purpose: you are to be bound to me as my only consort. You will now serve me alone, your king and your master. This my new function for you, my Mera, and for the rest of eternity.”

His declaration, echoing in the throne room, sends chills down your spine and finally breaks your composure. He looms in on you to kiss you once more, but you take a sidestep before backing away from him.

No…this can’t be.

“'No’?”  His voice dips dangerously low, his jaw clenching and his eyes narrowing on you.

Belatedly realizing you said that out loud, you make an effort to amend your words to appease the controlled rage emanating from him in waves.

“I mean, my Lord, I c-can’t possibly perform those duties to your satisfaction,” Your voice comes out faint and shaking as you continue to back away from his approaching figure. “Please, I’m only a dream …”

Your back hits a pillar, and he’s immediately on you, trapping you between the pillar and his unmoving body. His eyes, furious and disappointed, bore into yours.

“Did you not give me your word the day I gave you life? Or have you forgotten?”

You’re now visibly frightened, and your palms move to push him away, but he grabs your wrists roughly and pins them above your head. In an instant he covers your body with his own, his head dipping into yours and whispering closely in your ear:

“Do you truly have it in your heart to defy your creator?”

Your lips tremble as you fight back a sob threatening to surface; you’ve never seen this side of your master before, and now that you have, you’re deathly afraid of him.

“Please, my King…” you plead softly, closing your eyes to prevent the tears.

But in response, he growls in your ear, “I am, indeed, your king, and you belong to me. I will not be denied by my own creation.”

And he captures your lips into his in a fierce kiss. It was the library all over again, except his kiss now seeks to bruise and possess, trying to sate his endless hunger. You squirm, but it’s no use – in your defiance, he bites your lower lip, earning a pained gasp – and immediately his tongue is on yours, marking every corner of your mouth. Letting go of your wrists, he holds the back of your neck to control the angle and deepen the kiss, seemingly seeking to punish you for even thinking of saying ‘no.’

You whine in his mouth as he starts lifting your gown and running his hand up and down your thigh. Perhaps growing tired of your refusal, he grabs the back of your legs and pushes you upward against the pillar. He then wraps your thighs around his waist, hiking your dress up further and now exposing you to the cold, giving you goosebumps. You’re left with no choice but to hold on to his shoulders, sobbing and whimpering in his mouth at the unwanted contact. His lips move from yours down to the groove of your neck, where he begins suckling and biting your flesh, hell-bent on leaving angry welts and bruises: a mark of his possession. In your compromising position, you start feeling a hard bulge rub against your core as he bucks his hips, indicating his arousal. Against your wishes, an unfamiliar heat starts to pool in your lower belly as he grinds into you more urgently, desperate for his release.

Wanting an end to this, you beg before your body starts betraying you further.

“Pl..please, my Lord, l-let m-me go…” you choke between your tears.

This earns a deep growl of disapproval from your master, but he stops his ministrations, his lips hovering over your collarbone in seeming contemplation. To your relief and surprise, he releases you from his hold on the pillar. He drags his palms from your thighs to your waist to grip you in place. Seeing your tear-stricken face, his expression slightly softens.

“You are right. This is not the time for such activities.”

With a sudden swirl of his sand, he transports you to his chambers and, sensing your panic, his hold on you grows firmer in an attempt to reassure you.

“We have much to talk about.”

He steps away from you, although there is reluctance in the way he lets go of his grip on your waist. Fearing more retaliation from him, you stay rooted to the spot, awaiting his word.

“I have a rogue nightmare to capture. The Corinthian. I should like you to wait here until my return. We will then discuss the extent of your duties to me.”

He has his hands on the door, but turns to face you to leave a warning:

“Remember, my little dream: if I find you gone, your punishment will not be so light.”

***

But he doesn’t return that night. Or the day after that.

So, on the third day of his absence, you deemed it safe to finally step outside his chambers, growing tired of the anxiety staying in there brought you. You remember the moment he left; you had bawled your eyes out at the helplessness you felt in his touch – his chambers only reminded you of the shame you felt at your body’s reaction to him, even if you knew you couldn’t control it.

But you also grow weary of moping. Your king might’ve sealed your fate with your new… role, but he had not yet taken your ability to form dreams – and so with that, you hold on, resolving to stay the same dream you always have been, regardless of function.

But, like any obedient subject, you return to his chambers at night; whether out of acceptance of your fate, or fear of the repercussions, you don’t know. Perhaps you can one day convince the Dream Lord to allow you to continue shaping dreams for his dreamers, all while fulfilling your other responsibilities to him – perhaps you can ask him to grant you that one boon when he returns.

If he returns.

***

The first year of the Dream King’s disappearance in his realm was uneventful – for some of the residents, it was even welcome – having no brooding monarch breathing down on their necks and ordering them about was a breath of fresh air. Sure, a number of things started disappearing: several pots from the kitchen, a few knickknacks from Cain and Abel’s houses, a few rooms from the staff quarters – they were inconsequential, and life in the Dreaming seemed to move without its ruler.

But in the years that followed, these losses would only keep piling up – entire sections of the castle would collapse, the once-lush gardens would wilt, and parts of the realm would disappear without a trace. To yours and Lucienne’s consternation, books started disappearing from the library by the bookshelf – and soon enough, some of the residents, in their mounting dissatisfaction at their king’s prolonged absence, started packing up and leaving the realm.

Morwyn once revealed a rumor making rounds among the dreaming folk: that the Endless has finally tired of his functions and ditched the realm forever. This was a rumor you had tried to suppress, but the others shut you down like they always did. Cain was quick to point out that he wouldn’t be the first Endless to do so: Destruction, Dream’s sibling, had once abandoned his own and was never seen again.

“You want to hear another story? Lord Morpheus offered residence to a creature of Destruction’s – and a dangerous one, to boot. Word has it that anyone who crosses its path will meet their ultimate demise. Not too far-fetched, if you ask me.”

Abel had tried arguing with him over tea about how Lord Morpheus couldn’t possibly keep a creature of such devastating abilities. Still, Cain proceeded to bludgeon him with a marble bust before he could complete his sentence.

The realm you loved with all your heart – once teeming with life and beauty – began decaying right before your eyes. It was nothing short of heartbreaking.

You and the Dream Lord had unresolved matters between you, but the Dreaming needed him. So you one day offer to Lucienne to start combing through the dreams of the humans and track his whereabouts. She was against the idea at first, but given no other alternative, she eventually relented.

The humans also had it rough. Dreams started becoming more volatile. With your powers, you could still shape them and tame them, but who knows what goes on with them when you, or any other dream, weren’t there? You had caught several of your kind taking refuge in their own pocket-dreams – cutting the human off from the rest of the dreaming and placing them in a bubble of their own creation – but you were in no place to reprimand them or take them back. Day after day, you had to go back to the crumbling castle and report to Lucienne empty-handed.

The waters had also become more violent without its master to keep them in check. It had gotten even more strenuous navigating through, and sometimes you’d get stuck there for days on end, lost in the increasingly unstable dreams of the mortals.

One day, the journey proved almost fatal.

You had been trapped in the water for six straight days, unable to connect with your usual link to the shores – so when you started feeling a flicker of the link come alive, you will yourself to it, only to come face-to-face in the waters with yourself.

Or a mirror of you, to be exact. It looks exactly like you – same hair, same clothes, same ruby headpiece, save for the eyes: they’re completely black and glinting with malice, an emotion you have never felt before. You brush the image away and try to make it ashore, but it grabs you by the ankles and drags you further into the depths.

In your thoughts, it speaks: “Dream of the Endless will destroy you and that realm you claim to love.”

Without warning, its hands wrap around your throat and begin squeezing.

For a mere illusion, it has surprising force – you kick and punch at it and try to scramble away, but it wouldn’t let go. All you could hear in your head is your own voice, cackling with hysterical laughter. In one last desperate attempt to get it off you, you grab ahold of its head and start pressing your thumbs on its eyes – blood starts flowing from its sockets, and its otherworldly screaming fills your head – the illusion then disappears in a puff of gray smoke. With no strength left in you, you close your eyes, and a name escapes your lips in a whisper, before drifting off to unconsciousness.

***

Elsewhere, Dream of the Endless stirs in his glass confinement, having heard a voice he had not heard of in decades – the voice of the precious little dream he had left behind in his chambers.

He had regretted leaving you in such a distraught state, especially with that threat he had left you with in the heat of his emotions. He had hoped to make amends with you the moment he returned, so he could finally claim you and have you by his side as he had always envisioned – but it was not to be. Mortals seem to have gotten more foolishly arrogant over the centuries to have dared to initiate the capture of one such as him.

What had become of you that you had to call his name in such a weakened state? His insides boil with a flaming rage he hadn’t felt in eons, worried for you at your current predicament, and frustrated at his inability to reach you when it seemed you were in dire need of him.

But he had complete confidence in your ability to get yourself out of trouble – he knows, for he fashioned you to perfection. He closes his eyes and lets the rare warmth spread in his heart at the fact that you had called out to him in a position of vulnerability.

Once he opens them, however, they bleed entirely to black – he gives a silent vow that his captors, especially Roderick Burgess, would rue the day they robbed him of his time with you.

***

Link to the next chapter Author notes:

Thank you, THANK YOU for reading!!

Please engage, comment and reblog!! I love feedback from you guys :) This is my first ever fic, so kindness is truly appreciated!

Thank you to my queen @queenshelby @endlessdreamqueen3 for encouraging me to pen this, as well as to my fellow Dark!Morpheus writers whose work I have thoroughly enjoyed and keep rereading :)

Post date: 11/19/22

Edit date: 11/20/22

Taglist: Just lemme know please if you want to be added, too!

Tagging the following:

@wt-fxck

@sandman-33

@reallystressedhoneybee

@akiraquote

@safe-teycar

@ponyboys-sunsets

@izzicle

@spygrrl99

@intothesoul

@thecrazytealady

@tastyinspection8860

@kittensssss-blog

@trinittyy

@mxacegrey

@sarahbullet235

@tastyinspection8860

@blu3what

@justporple

[shiggyscumrag]

Echoes?

I know I disappeared for months but I'm back for my own self pleasure babyyyy!!!! Enjoy this incredibly self-indulgent Schlatt fic because I’m hard core simping again. It’s a college au, with simp behavior on the behalf of schlatt.

Schlatt had contemplated many a times about dropping out by now. He had enough money and success from streaming that he could easily afford his own place and make streaming his full time job. He just hasn’t made the leap yet. He felt like maybe he should at least finish this spring semester and then he could dip. No point in just throwing away all his hard work when the semester is almost finished. Schlatt would never admit that it was all excuses. Who wouldn’t be nervous about making a life changing decision. He spent long grueling hours working his ass off to get into this university, so what would be the point to throw that all away. Then again, school was getting in the way of streaming. If he wanted bigger and better opportunities from streaming and YouTube he needed to put all his time and effort into it. Still he was hesitant. 

When Schlatt found himself getting deep into his thoughts he always tried to walk them off, clear his head. He didn’t have a set path, just kind of wandered all types of places across campus. Sometimes the library, going up and down the dimly lit isles filled with books, or the small park on campus taking in the fresh air and changing leaves. Today he just so happened to wonder into a building he had yet been too. Something new, something to distract him and really get his mind off things. 

There seemed to be multiple floors so plenty to find. He worked his way down the first floor, peaking into empty classrooms every now again to see if anything caught his eye. Nothing. To the second floor he goes. He climbed the stairs and pushed open the obnoxiously squeaky door, wincing at the high pitch sound. Shaking his head he continued his march down the hall when suddenly he heard something, maybe someone? Then it was quiet again. Maybe he was hearing someone on the first floor that he just didn’t see. Choosing to ignore his curiosity he continued his way down the hall when he heard it again. There was definitely a person here. He waited for them to make a noise again, and they did. It was confirmed now, so of course he was gonna let his curiosity get the best of him. He made his way to where he believed the source of the noise was coming from. 

It was a girl. 

He peered at her through the small glass window on the door and saw she had a bright yellow book in her hand. Puzzled he stood and watched, waiting for her to speak again. She began to read from the book aloud.

“If ignorance is bliss, Father said, shouldn’t you be blissful?” she paused in a questioning tone. It looked as if she sat there digesting the question as if she was the one who got asked the question before she began again. “You should check to see if you have the right kind of ignorance.” 

This was the moment Schlatt took it upon himself to enter the classroom quickly and quietly to sit in the very back row. To just get a better show. She continued.

“If you’re not getting the benefits that most people get from acting stupid, then you should go back to what you always were-” she paused pursing he lips into a sly grin, looking to the non-existent audience “being too smart for your own good.” She stood silent, soaking in the moment before looking back down at the book again shaking her head and mumbling to herself. Then her head rose when she heard the resounding claps that sounded from the back corner. Schlatt standing and giving a whistle while continuing to clap. She was too stunned to speak, so he spoke first.

“Nice little show you put on there. This a private show? Cause if not I think the turn out should have been a lot better.” Leave it to Schlatt to pull some snarky sarcastic quip out of his ass. Usually people just ignore him, but today was just full of surprises. 

“No actually, this room was booked for rehearsal time. One you seemed to rudely be interrupting.” Sassy. Interesting. 

“Well toots, don’t get your panties in a twist. I just heard you spewing away in here and got curious, so I thought I'd pop in and give a listen. But now that the shows over I’ll leave you to your precious rehearsal time.” Exiting his seat he started towards the exit. Pushing the door open he heard something. “What?” he asked turning partially around. 

“I said would you mind critiquing my performance. I have to perform a poem for a class tomorrow and I need some opinions. Since you’re already here, I thought I'd ask.” 

plot twist, he thought in his head. he also thought...I've got time. So smacking his lips dramatically he sat back down and nodded his head in agreement.

You pause a little confused then you start again. He sits and listened attentively as you perform. Why is he doing this again? Oh yeah, cause he has time. It was getting a little boring to be honest, but you were pretty so he didn't mind.

This all happened a couple years ago. Now he's an even bigger streamer/youtuber, he's filthy rich, and has three golden ball monkey statues. And he has the most gorgeous girl in the world. He never knew that meeting you on that day would change his life in such a drastic way like it had, but he was glad for it.

He didn't know if keeping it a secret that he was married to you was the best idea but he didn't care. He knew he loved you beyond words can describe but didn't want the world to see that love. It was just for him and you. So he kept you a secret. And he couldn't be happier.

[goodgirlofglory]

In the balance - Chapter 4: Put

Chapter 3 - Chapter 5

/Masterpost/

Pairing: Dark!Steve Rogers x reader

Word count: 3,1k

Warnings: non-con, dub-con, depression, angst, anxiety attacks, panic attacks, smut, non-con smut, vaginal sex, lack of hygiene, starvation due to depressive hungerstrike.

Summary: As it dawns on you how trapped you are, you take poorly to the captivity.

Note: Allright you guys, this is officially a series. It will be 10 chapters AT LEAST!! Seeing I really got myself into it with the set-up of the first three parts, I have no idead how often I will update this. Last time I wrote a series, I had finished virtually every part before I even posted the prologue, so this is also the first time I’m writing and posting parts simultaneously. A masterlist will be made momentraily and all parts updated with it!! I’m excited!!!

Your media consumption is your own responsibility, but I advise you to not interact if the contents of the warnings trigger you. Minors DNI! 

My work is not to be distributed outside this blog. 

Likes, replies and reblogs are amaaaazing💞💞

You slept as if you were dead that first night, the shock to your system knocking you out cold as soon as Steve left the room. 

You woke up alert, instantly remembering everything about where you were and how you got there. In the early morning sun, the room shone in a warm light, every piece of furniture and fabric looking soft, inviting - like something out of a magazine. 

A surge of panic had you moving up and out of bed. You found your discarded clothes on the floor and hastily put them on, noticing you had nothing else on you - neither your phone, wallet or keys were in sight. 

Didn't matter, you just needed to get out. This wasn't happening.

You made your way into the hallway and followed it down past several sets of double doors, side tables with beautiful flower decorations and little else. Your feet made no sound on the plush, mauve carpet. In fact, the house was completely void of sound. The grand staircase looked even more impressive in daylight. The ceiling had stained glass that painted the white walls in a flourish of coloured light, and the marble of the staircase felt cool under your bare feet. It was all obscenely grand, like a home belonging to someone who didn’t know who they were and had too much wealth to know what to do with. For all his mystery, you would never have imagined Steve living in a place like this. It kept dawning on you how frightfully little you knew him. 

Steve had taken your shoes, maybe even as early as when he’d strapped you into the jet - or maybe you lost them running in the woods? You didn’t even remember, your mind growing hazy with the urge to get outside - to just get away.

The double-door entrance was locked when you went to slowly pry it open, and you noticed the second lock needed a key - a key that was nowhere in sight. Okay, next door, a window, anything. You moved silently through the entrance hall and into the living room, remembering how you’d come in through a back porch door the night before. You found it easily enough retracing your steps, but this was also locked with a lock that needed a key from the inside. You contemplated throwing something to break one of the huge, floor length windows in the living room, but that could make too much sound. You didn’t know if Steve was in the house or not. Outside, you saw the garden, the landing patch with the jet still on it, and around, a lawn large enough it could be more aptly described as a field, and behind it, thick forest. No buildings, no city, nothing. You had no idea where this mansion was or what surrounded it. But anything would be better than staying here. 

You took a new path out of the living room, peering around corners into an office, a large bathroom, a huge library with stuffed bookshelves in dark wood, big, old chairs that looked like they would swallow you whole and lastly, a kitchen. And across from the large kitchen island there was another set of porch doors - wide open, the light drapes blowing softly in the breeze coming from outside. Your feet carried you towards it on instinct, stepping into the spacious kitchen. 

“Good morning,” came Steve’s familiar voice, jolting you. Glancing to your left, you saw him, casually reclined in a chair by the dining table to the right. Great, he was waiting for you, the open doors bait. 

You didn’t even halt as you marched for the door, instantly relieved as you cleared it, feeling the direct heat of the sun on your face as your bare feet touched the small porch outside, and then - deliciosuly soft and cool grass. Ahead was another mile of neatly mowed lawn and the treeline in the distance. 

Steve’s booming steps sounded on the porch behind you. 

“Sweetie, come back. There’s nothing but forest that way, and a very high fence you can’t climb” Steve called behind you, somewhere between amusement and exasperation. 

Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. Was it true? Were you so remote? Recalling the night before, you figured any attempt to outrun him would be pointless. And a fence, enclosure all the way around, no doubt with a locked gate, if there even was a road leading in and out of this place. For all you knew, the only way in was via fucking jet plane. The pit in your chest threatened to swallow you whole, and you gulped in a fortifying breath. You wouldn’t give up yet. 

Turning on your heel, you marched back up to Steve, shoeless feet not exactly intimidating in the soft grass. Reaching him, you craned your neck to stare him down. You reached your hand out. 

“My car keys,” you stated, your voice surprisingly even. 

Maybe if you just showed Steve that you were not going to play along on this, he would return to his senses and let you go home. It wasn't too late to just go back to the way things were. Surely you would have a, if marginal, say in this. 

Steve cocked his head at you before turning on his heel and walking back to the house. 

“Breakfast is the most important meal of the day,” he said, not even looking back as he slipped into the kitchen. 

You briefly considered continuing across the lawn and into the trees, but ended up following Steve back inside the house. He’d returned to his previous seat, sipping a coffee cup. You stepped up to him, careful to keep a foot of distance between you. It was never a good idea to let Steve get too close. 

“I need my car keys. I need to go to work,” you said simply. In any sane world it should be more than enough. But your stomach was turning, glooming doubt trickling along every nerve in your body. 

“That won’t be necessary. I’ve already turned in your resignation, and your car is on its way to a landfill,” Steve said, looking up at you with a calm demeanor, no doubt thinking he was reassuring. 

The world threatened to spin as you processed that. 

What?

“You can…you can’t do that!,” you protested. “You have no right to do that! That's my income, my livelihood!,” you said, voice coming out trembling, your throat feeling tighter. 

“You don't need it anymore. Besides, a woman in your condition shouldn’t slave away -”

“B-but, how am I going to pay for my apartment?” you interrupted, mind scrambling to get a grip on your thoughts. Your heart was pounding painfully again.

Steve reached out a hand to grasp yours, too hot as it enveloped your hand completely. 

“Sweetie, I thought we agreed on this last night. You’ll live here now. I’ve already terminated your lease. I can’t believe how much your landlord charged for that cupboard. It was practically a scam,” Steve said, and his tone was so reprimanding, it made you feel chastined, humiliated, like a child. 

You liked your apartment, your landlord was a nice, old man - the closest thing you’d had to a friend. Sure it was a bit costly, but it was yours. Your safe place, your sanctuary…

"No, p-please," you whimpered, a sob lodged in your throat, your mind quickly collapsing on itself, anguish spreading like a puddle in your chest. "Please, don't do this," you besieged.

His hand squeezed yours as it felt like you were sinking into yourself. Bile rose high in your throat.

“It's already done," Steve answered calmly, his words like boulders pulling you down into dark gloom. "I told you, honey, not to worry about a thing. You won’t ever need to go back to that sad, dreary life you had. I’ve taken care of everything. Now, breakfast,” he ended triumphantly. 

You wrenched your hand out of his. Body hunching forward, you hurled. 

§

You hadn’t showered in days, hair greasy, smelling faintly of sweat and grime. You hadn’t eaten either. Anything you dained to eat didn’t stay down either way. The god awful nausea had settled deep in your gut, making every movement slow and strained. Steve hadn’t gone so far as to force feed you. Yet, that was. 

You'd gone completely off the rails after that first fit of vomiting. The details were fuzzy, but you'd started by wrenching Steve’s cup out of his hands before hurling it to crack into a million pieces against the wall. Then you'd upended the table before Steve got you locked in his arms. He had dragged you back to your room while you screamed your voice hoarse, your feet kicking out against anything in your path, a brief moment of sweet, petty vindication surging as you knocked a vase over in the entrance hall and he groaned in responding frustration, filling the room with a cracking sound as it split open on the marble. You’d never heard sounds like that before, let alone from your own body. 

Steve carried you up, not even breaking a sweat against your struggle, laying you on the bed and pinning you there until you ceased your thrashing, your howls shrinking to groans. 

"I know this is challenging, darling. You'll stay here till you reach your senses again, til you become my sweet, good girl again," he said, so easily dismissing you fighting for your life.

As soon as he locked the doors behind him, you bolted from the bed and started throwing things, destroying everything you saw, knocking over furniture, tearing clothes, breaking vases, animalistic sounds ripping out of your mouth. You would be embarrassed if desperate, white hot, crawling panic wasn’t exploding through every atom of your body, seeking vengeance and rescue all at once. You hated him, hated, hated, hated him.

You only stopped when the vertigo hit you, sparks of light dancing before your eyes and your feet giving out under you.

Steve wasn’t pleased by your behavior, but for once he was so uncharacteristically non-invasive in the days that followed. He moved you to another room when you blacked out from distress, and by that point you didn’t have enough energy to throw things. It doesn’t matter anyway, the hopelessness in your chest whispered to you. The biggest fight you could muster was only a spot of inconvenience and a renovation cost for Steve. 

The mansion closed like a tomb around you.

He prepared meals for you, but didn’t go further than implore you to eat them. There were soft towels and deliciously smelling shower products from the most high end lines in the bathroom, but he didn’t force you into the shower. He didn’t touch you at all. And you ended up thinking of your lack of hygiene as a form of armor. A form of buffer that held his touch away, let you simmer in your rage - and filth - alone. 

You slept, vomited, went to the bathroom, slept, cried, ate a little, vomited, slept - all the while simmering with rage and self-pity.

Steve went away to work on your sixteenth day of no shower and limited food intake. He lingered by the bed, brows drawn down in concern as he took in your lethargic form nestled in the messy bed sheets of your room. You still wore the clothes you’d come in, having refused all of the soft, silken and plush clothes that hung in the closet, creamy and light pastel color, all in your exact size. It repulsed you, how he had so clearly pictured you barefoot and soft, mellow and compliant as you leisured around the house without any protest. 

“I’ll be back in a few days. Please eat and drink something, take care of yourself. If not for you, then for the baby” he implored silently, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your duvé. You wanted to swat his hand away. 

The baby. You had completely forgotten about that. Didn’t matter though, maybe you’d lose it if you starved for long enough, and then Steve would cast you out. No, he’d promised to keep you forever in that case. Maybe you would die before that time. 

You were tired, so tired, and if you didn’t move a muscle, the nausea was manageable. You’d already hurled several times that morning, heaving until spots appeared before your eyes, nothing but bitter stomach acid coming up and into the bucket by the bed. 

He went away, and you stayed in bed until darkness settled outside the window. Groggily, you got up to use the toilet, your piss a dark brown as you took in the poor state of your dehydrated and famished body. Wilting so fast in your captivity. 

But with Steve gone, you could breathe. And you slowly made your way down to the kitchen, finding a meal of cold pot roast with vegetables in the fridge, managing to get about three bites down before your stomach threatened to knock you out. You drank a glass of cold water, soothing as you felt it go down. Outside, the whole world was in darkness. Shouldn’t you be finding a way to escape? 

Maybe, but right now all you could think about was returning to bed, to obliterating, dreamless unconsciousness. Returning to your room, you glanced inside the luxurious bathroom en suite. It had a large tub, star spots in the dark blue ceiling, a tropical shower head in the spacious shower stall and shelf upon shelf of luscious oils and lotions, hair products and soaps that smelled like something out of a five star spa. 

You pressed your nose into a simple bar of lavender soap, eyes fluttering shut as the pleasant and clean scent soothed you. You looked at the shower stall for a while, contemplating. If you dressed in the same clothes and got into the same sheets, maybe Steve wouldn’t notice you’d used the facilities you swore you’d forever refuse. 

Maybe Steve would die while on the job…

You undressed slowly, nearly falling as you struggled to take your hoodie off, the hassle making you dizzy. 

How had you ended up here? What had you been thinking, all those months with his visits? That it would forever stay like that? Why hadn’t you run away sooner, disappeared. How stupid you’d been, just staying put like sitting duck, just waiting for him to do this. To steal you away to be kept like livestock, locked away, your previous life, your home, job, things - everything you’d worked so hard to obtain - taken away and obliterated, like dust on a shelf. Bitter tears stung your cheeks for what felt like the millionth time. 

You’d worked so hard for that job, even harder for the apartment. You’d slaved away all your life, with no connections, no inheritance from your dead relatives, practically no skills or talents. Working your way up to full time at the yarn store was the achievement of your life, the stepping stone to an honest, hard working life. And now it was just gone, thrown away by Steve like trash. 

The shower was heaven. The warm water battered your aching muscles, loosening your stiffened joints. Your plan of rewearing your old clothes was swiftly disregarded as the new scent of lavender permeated your floating, sated state. You trudged out of the bathroom half asleep before dumping into the messy bed, already slipping into unconsciousness. 

§

You awoke to the sensation of warmth along your back. You lay on your side, your cover thrown off somewhere, the night air chilly on your naked skin. Something tickled your neck, pulling your hair away. You murmured, your lips not quite moving yet as you trudged the edge of sleep. Your neck tingled again, and then something distinctly hard against your asscheek tore you from your slumbering state. 

You jolted forward before being promptly tugged back by a large arm around your middle. A frustrated whimper escaped you as you wiggled against your restraints. 

Steve hushed you quietly, his breath tickling your ear, his lips touching just under it. He inhaled deeply before letting out a pleased sigh ending on a soft groan. 

“You smell so good tonight, I hardly believed my luck finding you like this, naked and clean and ready,” he murmured into your skin, making goosebumps rise along your arms and back.  

“You were supposed to be gone,” you said through gritted teeth, hands fisting in the sheets in rage. 

He didn’t answer, only continued to kiss your neck, slowly unwinding his arm from around your middle, gauging your reaction all the while. You didn’t move until you felt him prod along your asscrack with his cock, leaking tip smearing your skin. That’s when you tried to bolt again, only to end up rolled onto your stomach, Steve’s hand pressing you down into the mattress as he straddled the back of your thighs. 

“I’ve been patient, tried to wait. But you’re just too much for me, honey,” he said as he used his hand to prod his cock between your cheeks again, searching for your entrance. “Do you feel what you do to me? The hold you have over me?” he asked, finding your hole. 

Hold? You would have laughed if tears weren’t strangling you, your whimpers muffled by the sheets underneath you. What a pathetically ironic thing to say… 

He pulled back and spat crudely at your hole before unceremoniously pushing inside, making your flesh yield to him. You cried out at the sudden pain before your breath hitched in your throat. Your stomach recoiled. 

Steve groaned above you, his hand moving from his cock to hold your cheeks open as he started to rock back and forth in a filthy grind inside you. 

“God, I’ve missed you, you feel so fucking good,” he grunted out, and your muscles slowly seized up, stiffening against your will. You slapped a hand back on his thigh as the pain persisted with his grinding thrusts. 

“H-hurts,” you stuttered out between small gulps of air. 

“It’s okay, sweetie, it’ll feel good in a moment. Be good for me now,” he said, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone, too far gone in his own pleasure. 

On your next exhale, it felt like you left your own body. Just went away, floated up to the ceiling, looking onto the scene like a passive bystander. You grew limp, your muscles loosening to a puddle of limbs. You weren’t there, this wasn’t real. None of it was. Steve wasn’t there, doing this, and if he was, it wasn’t you he did it to. 

Steve bent down to lave at your neck, his mouth moving up to yours. You stayed limp underneath him, rhythmically rocked on the bed by Steve’s steady thrusts. He tried to kiss your mouth, but you stayed unmoving, and you could feel him grow frustrated at your lack of response. 

Good, he might as well be fucking a corpse, you thought as he pried his tongue into your mouth, only managing to lick over your teeth slightly. 

You don’t know how much time passed, but when Steve’s hips stuttered and he moaned his release quietly, you exhaled in relief, just longing to go back to sleep. But before you could drift off, you curled over the edge of the bed and gagged, nothing but choked air coming up.

This was what your life had amounted to. This pitiful existence at the hands of this man. 

§

Note: Our girl’s not doing so great, unfortunately. I’m dying to know what you think of this developement!!

[cbsxreader]

I've been carrying this idea for a while now and wanted to put it into my OC!CBS story that I thought I told you about, but I still want you to develop it for yourself and others.

So ..

What about Christian Brutal Sniper, who comes to the reader smeared in blood after several murders, kneels before her and asks her to scratch him. And she, in turn, puts her hands in his prickly beard and scratches this cruel purring lump of a man while he purrs like a bloody cat.

Eheh

Funny thing is, I have also had an idea of CBS getting scratched and purring, like, I'm being serious, I think we share braincells or something because we both think of him as a giant cat!?!??!?

"Guilty pleasures"

CBS x (F!)Reader

Cw: (Swearing)

You made your way to the couch after a long day of working your ass off, wanting to relax and have some time for yourself. A coworker had recommended a book to you, so you stopped by the library to pick it up and enjoy it at home. Grabbing the pillows and placing them on one end of the couch, you got comfy and stretched out your legs. You let out a content sigh and opened the book.

Later

You didn't understand what your coworker found so enticing about the book. So far it was uninteresting and bland, the main character was unlikable and, for a while now, you had been giving the book multiple chances to turn around. But it seemed to trip at every single hurdle.

The sound of the front door being opened made your ears perk up and your eyes went wide. The excitement of your lover arriving completely ripped you from the book. The sound of Christian's footsteps came closer and closer. You finally decided to turn to the door, greeting Christian with a smile.

"Hey, love!" He called out to you with a smile of his own.

Just like you had suspected, Christian was covered in blood, clearly fresh from a murder spree. He came closer to the couch. He came up behind you and leaned forward against the back of the couch, crossing his arms.

"How's it going?" He asked, curious about your day.

"Well, I was recommended a book after work, it ended up being shit and ruined my mood a bit..." You explained, closing the book and placing it on the small table infront of the couch "But atleast you showed up." You smiled again and shrugged.

Christian's smile grew even wider as he let out a low chuckle. "You're glad Oi showed up?" He asked playfully but also out of curiosity.

You stood silent for a small moment, before speaking up "I suppose I am."

You sat up from the couch and placed a hand on the side of Christian's face. His smile slightly dropped, wanting to know what you'll do next. You placed a quick kiss on his non-blood-stained cheek, colouring his face a light red tinge. You smiled at the sight of him getting flustered.

"What made the book so bad that it ruined your mood?" Christian questioned. He never read books, so he couldn't grasp what could have possibly make you hate the book.

You stretched out your arms and relaxed into the couch again, letting yourself melt into the cushions "Eh, it just wasn't very good, and I stopped reading it halfway. Just a waste of time really.." You closed your eyes and let out a sigh.

You heard Christian come over to the front of your couch, the sound of his footsteps guiding you to where he was. There was a moment of silence before you felt something heavy on your stomach. You slightly writhed in discomfort before cracking an eye open to see what was on you.

Christian had sat down on the floor and placed his head on your torso. His eyes were closed and his face showed content as his head went up and down when you breathed in and out. You smiled at him, placing a hand underneath his hat and tangling your fingers in his dark hair. You relaxed again, leaning your head back again as you petted Christian's scalp. Another quiet moment passed as you both just enjoyed eachother's presence.

"Sheila?" The rumbling voice of your lover cut the silence and sent vibrations through your body.

"Mmm?" You responded, not bothering to use words.

"Could you do me a favor?" He asked, his voice peaceful from you petting him.

You sighed again, hoping it wouldn't include you moving much "Well, depends on what it is.."

He stood quiet for a little bit "Could you scratch my beard?"

The odd question made you stop petting his head and you opened your eyes in surprise "What?"

Christian still looked at you with questioning eyes "There's this itch that's been bothering me all day-" he started to explain.

"No, why do you want me to scratch you?.." You cut him off, still confused by his question.

"Well, your fingers are smaller and you could get in between the hairs bettah. And, y'know, your nails would be more effective." He explained, looking at your hands.

You felt like you wanted to say something else, but ended up staying quiet. The request was simple, just...a bit odd. You could help him out, it was just the fact that you've never been asked to do this.

"Come on...just a little bit? Just a little scratch?" Christian gave you a slightly pleading look.

Oh what the hell...

Christian's sight followed your hand as you reached out to the side of his face. You came in contact with his sharp beard and started to scratch him. His eyes slightly widened when your fingers fought through his beard, but soon after his eyes slowly closed in content. Christian leaned into your touch, relieved you agreed to help him. But you still had your doubts and he could sense it.

"Oh, that's so much better..." He revealed, wanting to let you know he was satisfied.

Your confusion was gone and replaced by a sort of comfort feeling when you saw Christian so thankful. You couldn't help but smile at your partner, happy that he's happy.

You decided to bring your other hand to the other side of his face and began to scratch again. Now it was like his face was getting massaged from both sides. He couldn't hold back his happiness anymore and let himself crack a smile.

"Could you move a bit lower, kind of where the beard ends?" Christian suggested.

You lightly chuckled at his request "Okay!"

You moved your hands to his jaw, finding the place where his beard starts to fade out. As soon as you resumed scratching, Christian lifted up his head so you can get to that spot better and his smile grew wider.

"Fuck, that's the best..." He said, squinting his eyes in delight.

You chuckled "If someone were to listen to us from the other room they wouldn't think we're doing anything close to this."

"It's not my fault you know all the best places to give me a scrrratch. You'rrre the one making it weirrrd..."

Christian's speech suddenly was slower and he rolled the R in his words. It was only after he stopped talking when you heard an unfamillair sound coming from him. It was quite deep and rumbly, synchronized with his breaths.

''Are you...purring?'' You asked, surprised and confused all over again. ''Since when has that become a thing?''

The noise became even louder as you continued to scratch him.

You grinned "You're full of surprises today, Christian..."

The purring became more quiet and his smile dropped ''One morrre comment and it will stop.'' He said in a more serious voice, his purr still present in his speech.

You internally shrugged. You didn't want him to stop purring, so you stood quiet.

Instead, you decided to experiment a little bit. You changed the amount of fingers scratching him, sometimes using only two or three fingers. You needed to figure out the speed too, so you went a bit faster. He leaned into your touch more, pressing his skin to your fingertips. Seeing this, you decided to scratch more roughly, fighting through the hairs of his beard. In response, Christian's face scrunched up and purred even more loudly than he had before.

You smiled at the blood-covered man before you, continuing to scratch his sweet spot. But you were suddenly cut off by Christian lifting his head out of your hands. He adjusted himself and put his cheek on your chest, placing his torso on top of you. His weight, combined with his purring made you feel like an engine was on top of you. Christian wrapped his arms around you, wanting to be as close to you as possible. When he was comfortable, you reached under his chin again, continuing to make him purr.

''You're like a big lap cat!'' You couldn't hold the comment back.

The purring stopped as Christian cracked open an eye to look at you with a serious expression.

"Alright, alright, I'll stop." You explained yourself with a sheepish look.

He closed his eye. You continued to scratch his beard and he started to purr again. After a small while, Christian calmed down, his purrs becoming more quiet until only his breathing was heard. You already thought you did something wrong, since he threatened you earlier. Maybe he took the lap cat comment too personally. You had already grown to love his purring and you didn't want it to go away.

"Why did you stop purring?" You cautiously asked.

No response, your lover just continued to lay on your chest in silence. Your eyes slightly widened in realization.

"Christian?..." You asked cautiously and tilted your head to the side to get a better look at his face.

He had fallen asleep on you. A warm, loving feeling overcame you, Christian had felt comfortable enough around you to actually fall asleep. After a murder spree, his senses are usually still heightened because of the adrenaline spike. But you, out of all people, calmed him down enough to make him drowsy.

You smiled to yourself as you decided to settle down as well. You took Christian's sunglasses and hat off and placed them beside the book on the small table next to you. It was only when you turned back when you realized he was still doused in blood, already noticing some stains on your clothes. But it was nothing a little bit of hydrogen peroxide wouldn't fix.

(If you plan to implement this into the OC, is he gonna be a cryptid or have some sort of animal features? Bc that would be fucking awesome. Also, sorry for the book sub-plot at the beginning, I needed to start it off somehow :,) )

[bhhstilinski]

Chapter 2 (cont)

The library stood out in the small town, a newer building against the old, concrete against the brick, wide against the thin. It was a few minutes’ walk away from the cluster of more central shops that housed stationery and trendy clothing. Although Annabeth loved the store offering a selection of planners and pens, her destination today was the library. She pulled into a parking space, noting the plethora of empty spots, and twisted the key to turn the car off, her music stopping abruptly.

Annabeth took her keys and phone from the front of the car, pulled her bag from the backseat, and locked it as she walked towards the front doors. Once inside, she made a beeline for the stairs, bypassing the children’s section. The bottom floor of the library featured tables with picture books on display, enticing young potential readers. Annabeth remembered getting her first library card and excitedly running around the building, collecting books from all the tables and shelves, curating a diverse taste from the moment she had the opportunity. She would read historical fiction, fantasy, mystery, and to the librarian’s surprise, books about architecture.

As Annabeth reached the top of the stairs, she surveyed the top floor. A few chairs were arranged around a table in front of her, all facing a fireplace with a TV above it. The TV silently advertised different events the library would be hosting over the next few weeks, including storytimes for little kids and an arts-and-crafts day. Beyond the sitting area there were rows of bookcases that held the selection of fiction for teens and adults. Individual seats with attached desks lined the wall of windows to Annabeth’s left, each seat closed off by a screen that made for a more private study space.

She continued past the fiction section and turned to the right before reaching the non-fiction area. Her footsteps muted by the carpet, Annabeth approached the study rooms. Each room offered a table with several chairs and a whiteboard on the wall, so this hall was a hotbed for high school students. Since it was still the beginning of the school year, Annabeth had her pick from plenty of open rooms. Each had a clear glass wall, making it easy to see if they were occupied. She chose the one at the end of the hall that featured a window on one wall.

Offloading her backpack onto one of the chairs, Annabeth glanced outside. The sky was a vibrant blue, with puffy white clouds skidding across it. She wished she could go for a hike through a park rather than buckle down over calculus homework, but the life of a senior was not one to be desired. Especially one with aspirations as high as Annabeth’s.

Despite not knowing which college she wanted to attend next year, Annabeth knew she wanted to do great things. Her dream was to design an entire city, using her knowledge of architecture to create a masterpiece. Whenever she visited a new place, she analyzed the features of its buildings and its layout, knowing she could improve upon it if given the chance. The second she’d had a space in her schedule, Annabeth had jumped at the opportunity to take the Architecture and Design course offered at Olympian High. It was her favorite class, and not just because it was one of the only times she got to see Emi during the school day. She was truly invested in learning as much as she could; one day she would prove herself to be the best architect the world had ever seen.

Unfortunately, this also meant she had to battle her way through calculus. Annabeth grabbed her dark blue math binder along with a pencil that had a sufficient amount of eraser left and set to work on the newest worksheet. As she analyzed graphs and completed equations, Annabeth thought longingly of the days when math worksheets simply required you to prove you could add two-digit numbers.

~flashback~

“Thank the gods!” Percy exclaimed, his gaze landing on Annabeth as she walked down the bus aisle. “I need your help on this worksheet.”

It was the end of the school day, and the sun shone through the window onto Percy’s face, giving him a golden hue. His curls seemed to glow, their beachy look enhanced by the late-summer lighting. Annabeth slid into his seat beside him and dropped her backpack on the floor. She leaned in to get a better look at the paper in Percy’s hands.

Columns of addition and subtraction problems lined the page. Annabeth could see Percy’s scribbled pencil marks on a few of the problems, noting where he needed to carry a number and guessing at the solution. “Oh, this is easy, come on Seaweed Brain. We just did one like this yesterday. Here,” she said, reaching for the pencil.

“Sorry if I don’t have a mind like a sponge like you do, Wise Girl,” Percy retorted, smiling. He held out his hand to give her the pencil. Annabeth took it, their fingers brushing, and pressed the worksheet against the back of the seat in front of them. She walked Percy through one of the problems and explained his mistakes on the questions he’d struggled with. By the time the bus reached Annabeth’s stop, there were only a few problems left.

She slid out of the seat and pulled her backpack with her, hooking her arms through the straps. Straying from their usual routine, Percy stood up with her.

“I should get off here with you,” he said earnestly.

Annabeth stared at him, contemplating. With the way he was turned now, the light sparked his blue eyes. She thought they bore a resemblance to the reflection of the sun’s rays on the surface of the Atlantic. “You’re not allowed to,” she reminded Percy. “I think the driver has to have a note from our parents or something.”

Percy shrugged. “So?” he said, grinning. Annabeth couldn’t help but smile back. She felt a very strong urge to pick up her backpack and follow the boy down the bus steps. “We need to finish the worksheet,” he urged her.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble,” Annabeth said. She frowned when Percy’s grin fell from his face. “Get on your email at exactly five, and we can talk!” she offered.

“Okay,” he conceded, and she hurried down the bus aisle before the driver could pull away from her stop.

As the bus’s folding door squeaked and slammed shut behind her, Annabeth turned around. Her eyes scanned the windows, landing on Percy’s faint shape through the window. He waved to her, a simple goodbye that always made her happy. She lifted her hand and waved back as the bus lurched and drove away from the street corner.

~present day~

Annabeth pulled herself out of the memory, returning her focus to finding the limit of some equation on the paper in front of her. She found herself wishing a certain blonde-haired boy was still sitting beside her, offering a brain to bounce ideas off of and promising to email her. It was ridiculous. They had phones now anyway, and his number was blocked, although her calendar still alerted her to his birthday every year. She always found herself annoyed by the notification, but for some reason never turned it off.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Annabeth’s phone chimed. She knew by its tone that the text was from Emi. The smile that this revelation brought was dimmed by the remembrance that she’d given Percy’s messages a unique sound once, too.

Annabeth opened the text and paused her music to play the voice message from Emi, which detailed a disturbing occurrence of a rat hiding behind a box. She shot a sympathetic message back and returned to her homework, mentally cursing herself for taking calculus instead of statistics, the other AP math option. But as Annabeth worked her way towards the bottom of the page, her mind drifted back to her former friend, once again questioning herself and what she had done wrong that had led to the emptiness of the seat to her right.

[coopigeoncoo]

The 3-Cs of 3-A, Chapter 3: You've Got the Talking Down, Just Not the Listening

Chapter Links: First, Previous, Next

Pairing: Eventual Bakugou Katsuki x Fem Reader (it's a very long way off though)

Rating: Explicit. 18+

Tags: Mineta Redemption, Fem Reader, AFAB Reader, Sexual Harassment, Abusive Parenting, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Statutory Rape, Dubious Consent, Underage Sex, Underage Drinking, Domestic Violence, Blood and Injury

Tags are subject to change as story develops.

---

Mineta Minoru is a perverted misogynist whose antics should have had him expelled from UA long ago.

But he wasn’t.

And now it’s your job to fix him.

May God have mercy on your soul.

–--

“Well then, I’ll leave myself in your capable hands,” Mineta purred before popping open the top two buttons on his shirt, sending you a coy look from under his lashes. “Mold me into the perfect hero, Pygmalion!  Make me your Galatea!” he screamed as he ripped open his shirt, buttons flying haphazardly through the air and pinging off the walls and floor.  You throw your arms up to cover your eyes, as though blinded by the pale skin of his belly.  

“Why do you always have to make this weird?” you moan forlornly, already bending down to search along the floor for the missing buttons.  

---

Continue Reading below, or follow the link to Ao3!

Chapter 3:

You've Got the Talking Down, Just Not the Listening

In which You have to acclimate to Mineta's personality.

Results are mixed.

The next day had you setting out of Kayama's apartment just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.  It was far earlier than you were used to being up and moving, but between years helping out on fishing boats and waking up early for Hero training, Mineta's schedule was built around getting an early start.  It also meant that your walk this morning was much cooler than yesterday, which you greatly appreciated.   

The plan was for you to meet up in one of the study lounges in the main school building.  It wasn't the most ideal location to work from, lacking the plentiful resources of the Library, but the scathing look the Librarian leveled at you both as you exited yesterday afternoon was all the encouragement you needed to stay away until the ruckus you both caused faded from her recent memories.  Which, based on her pachyderm-like trunk and ears, could be quite a long time if the adage about elephants and recollection held true.

The vinyl on the couch was already overly soft and unpleasantly warm from the previous day's blistering heat, which strengthened your resolve to work quickly and efficiently to keep the backs of your legs from becoming permanently spot welded into place.  You pulled a selection of slim binders and folders out of your bag as Mineta crept silently into the room and slithered into place on the couch next you; personal space non-existent as the meaty part of his thigh pushed into yours.  

You froze in your unpacking efforts as you felt his arm worm its way across your mid back, his fingers casually plucking at the band of your bra through your shirt.  

"What are you doing?" You hiss sharply, bringing a hand up to Mineta's pudgy cheek and pushing with as much force as you could muster. You'd intended to shove him away from you, but his bare calves were already stuck to the couch by a thin sheen of sweat so instead he just sort of toppled sideways into the arm of the couch.  Undeterred by your rejection, Mineta shifted himself into a casual lounging position with his head propped up on his hand, staring up at you with a quirked eyebrow and smarmy grin.  

In an instant you were up on your feet, the backs of your thighs ripping away from the couch vinyl like an old band aid from skin.  You stormed around the coffee table littered with your project materials and threw yourself down onto the opposing couch, pointing a shaking finger directly at Mineta.

"Keep your hands to yourself and away from me," you spat, ignoring the fearful pounding of your heart and focusing instead on the indignation burning in your chest.

"Woah, there!  Where is all this coming from?" Mineta asked, brow furrowed as he shifted himself upright and raised his hands placatingly. "I thought we were really connecting yesterday.  We had a good time on our date, didn't we?"

"Date?" you screeched in disbelief. "That wasn't a date!  I took you out for shaved ice because I felt guilty for making you cry!"

"Agree to disagree," Mineta huffed, crossing his arms across his chest petulantly.

"Okay. I need you to listen to me very carefully, Mineta," you groaned in frustration, scrubbing at your face with clammy hands.  "I am here as your project partner, not your romantic partner.  We are not lovers.  We are not friends.  We are, at best, distant acquaintances.” 

"Oh my God," Mineta huffed in exasperation, rolling his eyes as he slumped down into the couch. "Why are girls always like this?"

"Like what?" you hiss, narrowing your eyes in anticipation of an answer you knew you wouldn't likely care for.

"Like- like this!" Mineta belts out, gesturing broadly over your entire person. "Always saying one thing and meaning another!  It's like some sort of bullshit test where you keep switching the answer key to keep guys from passing!"

You stared at Mineta in wide-eyed disbelief, words completely lost to you as he continued his rant.  

"Just yesterday you were fine cozying up to me- laughing and leading me on.  And now here we are, less than a day later, and you're acting like I'm repulsive!  Make up your damn mind already!"

"I was being friendly, not flirty!" you screech, upset that your gesture of kindness had been so wildly misinterpreted. "And honestly, it's incredibly worrying that you can't tell the difference!"

The quiet peace of the early morning was well and thoroughly shattered at this point; barbed words from both of you hanging in the air and prickling sharply at each other's skin. Acknowledging that there was no possible way to salvage the situation at hand, you grab a purple colored binder off of the table and toss it down onto the couch next to Mineta.   

“Just- fill this survey out while I work on finding common times in our schedules, okay?" you huff as you sank down into the couch, determined to make some measure of progress today. "Did you bring a copy of your timetable like I asked?”  

“Yes,” Mineta says stiffly, pulling out a half crumpled piece of paper from his backpack and setting it on the table situated between you both.  You pull the paper towards yourself while Mineta grabbed a pen with a scowl and silently got to work filling out the paperwork you gave him, the pages nearly tearing under the force of his angry scrawling. You quickly snap a picture of the crinkled schedule with your phone and move the screenshot into your project folder for future reference.

Mineta's schedule is, unsurprisingly, packed. 

Between classes, training, and studying, nearly every moment of his day is already accounted for.  You'd been hoping to meet in person at least once every other week or so to touch base and get through another batch of paperwork, but it looks like your dream of keeping everything on physical paper is unrealistic.  Digitizing documents for him to fill out at his leisure might be the only reasonable way to get things done and submitted in a timely fashion.  

A deep sigh is dragged up from the depths of your weary soul as yet another task is piled onto your overburdened shoulders.  Deciding the best way to keep track of everything is to create a shared calendar, you get to work entering in Mineta's schedule; squeezing in project meetups whenever he has availability. You'd likely be late to a class or two in order to meet with him, but hopefully your teachers would be sympathetic to your situation- all the other Business Course students were likely in need of similar accommodations.

The sound of the thin purple folder impacting the table was unexpectedly loud and jarring- a clear indication that Mineta had thrown it down with a decent amount of force to make up for it's relatively light weight.

"Do you need something else or can I leave now?" He spat, face stormy as he glared at you from behind crossed arms.    

"No.  That's it for now," you said evenly, double checking the next months worth of calendar entries you'd just finished creating to avoid having to look at Mineta directly.  "I'll check over your answers and get back to you as soon as I can.  I know you're really busy so I'll try to keep our meetings short."

Mineta snorted as he shouldered his overstuffed duffle bag. "Don't want to have to spend any more time with me than you have to, huh?  Typical."

Your fingers hover over your phone screen, paused mid way through booking an appointment on some far-flung October afternoon.  Taken aback by Mineta's defensiveness, you turn and watch as he quickly storms through the study room doorway; shoulders drawn up to his ears and feet stomping loudly as he made his way towards the exit.

Stomach churning uncomfortably, you finish filling in the schedule for the remaining calendar year; fingers shaking as you select the button to invite Mineta to share it with you.  

It's a long and disquieting wait before your phone dings gently in your hands; the calendar invitation accepted.  

You unclench your jaw and set about packing up your project supplies, taking careful stock of everything as you load up your bag and return to Kayama's apartment.  

Kayama wasn't there when you returned from your trek across campus, but that wasn't terribly surprising.  Her hero patrol schedule was unpredictable at best and absolutely grueling the rest of the time, so even though you've been technically living together for under two weeks you've already become accustomed to using Kayama's ever growing laundry pile as proof of her continued existence.   

You were like two moons trapped in an orbit together; moving along the same general path but never managing to actually collide with each other.

But even with her persistent physical absence, Kayama still managed to find ways to care for you- tiny gestures of affection that sent shooting pangs of fondness straight through your heart.  You knew for a fact that Kayama had started shopping at a different grocery store because they carried the brand of shampoo you preferred, even though it added half an hour onto her shopping trip.

When you returned home from your disastrous meet up with Mineta you were greeted by another nurturing Nemuri signature move: snacks.  Today's offering was a plate of homemade onigiri with wobbly smiles drawn on with an unidentifiable brown sauce.  You gently picked one up and watched the side of its rice ball mouth slowly melt down into a pained grimace.

"Me too, buddy," you sighed dejectedly. "Me too."

Feeling merciful, you devoured the rice ball quickly to end its suffering; its friends following in quick succession.  

Mineta’s survey results were, in a word: troubling. 

In two words: unfathomably distressing. 

And in sixteen words: a torrent of alarming ideas that spoke of some unaddressed, festering issues deep within Mineta’s psyche. 

As much as you wanted to attribute the horrendous responses to Mineta's poor mood, you were very quickly becoming accustomed to the notion that whatever version of reality you existed in was worst possible one as far as Mineta Minoru was concerned.  

The purple notebook lay open on your desk, Mineta’s tiny and lopsided handwriting carved deeply into the open pages.  

Question 1: Why do you want to be a hero?  

It’s a good way to be popular and impress the ladies.

Question 2: Do you have any costume preferences?

        I like it when female Heroes wear skin tight bodysuits.  But not guys.  They don’t need to be highlighting their junk like that. It’s never a good look.  

Question 3: Are there any heroes you admire?

       I want to be like the Number Two Hero: Hawks.  He’s always surrounded by really hot girls in his paparazzi photos.

How are you supposed to believably sell someone so utterly unheroic as a Hero?

The answer was obvious: you couldn’t.

There was just no possible way to present Mineta as he was in a favorable light. Grape Juice would never make it as a commercially successful Hero- he'd be lucky to be allowed to work private security details and crowd control with his record of atrocious behavior.

The watery feeling of unease in your stomach crept up from your belly, choking your throat and welling your eyes with tears. 

There was nothing you could do to fix this- to fix him in any sort of meaningful way that would guarantee your success. You'd been made captain of a capsizing boat, doomed to sink down into a watery grave while the rest of the crew abandoned ship.

Alone in your room, you put your head down next to a tiny potted succulent and allowed yourself to cry.

Nemuri hadn't been expecting you to still be awake when she returned home from patrol.  But there you were, limbs sprawled out bonelessly over every side of the couch; head lolling listlessly across the arm as a commercial for hemorrhoid cream desperately vied for your attention in the background.  After gently depositing her Go Bag next to the front door, Kayama quietly shuffled into the living room; her feet too heavy with exhaustion for her to lift them up off the floor.  She somehow managed to contort herself into the narrow slices of couch you'd left unoccupied, pinning your calf behind her lower back in the process.  Being old enough to appreciate the comfort extra lumbar support provided, Kayama melted down into the plush couch cushions with a weary groan.  

The tv continued to drone on in that blandly hypnotic way that only late night programming can while you both tried to settle your restless minds. 

“Hey, Kayama?” you mutter listlessly, glassy eyes fully focused on the glowing screen in front of you.

“Hmm?” Nemuri warbled sleepily, nuzzling her cheek into the downy throw blanket draped across the back of the couch.

“I’ve decided to start drinking.  Heavily.”

“Mmkay.  Tha' sounds fine.  Sounds fun,” she mumbled as her eyelids fluttered closed.  Another commercial began, this time for a FatGum branded Takoyaki pan as Kayama’s eyes flew open. Frantically, she ran her hands across her body as she searched for where she'd stashed her phone; eventually pulling it out from in between her breasts and wiping the accumulated boob sweat off the screen with the hem of her shirt.

“Shit! No! That's wrong!" Kayama swore, fingers flying over her phone screen.   "You should definitely not take up recreational drinking because you are obviously too young!  Instead you should, uhh-” Kayama paused to quickly scroll down her screen, squinting her eyes to read the small print on her blindingly bright screen. “- go on a bike ride.  Or get pizza with your friends.”

“Did- did you have to look up the legal drinking age?" you laugh incredulously. "As someone whose job it is to enforce laws shouldn’t you, I don't know; actually know the laws?”

“Ugh!" Kayama groaned, rubbing a hand down her face in frustration.  "I can never remember that one because I was drinking way before I turned twenty!”

In general, you did your best to avoid falling into the ‘dramatic teenager’ stereotype, but right now everything sucked and your life was awful. So you felt fully justified spending the weekend distractedly watching clueless couples attempting to give each other apartment makeovers while you texted with your friends.  Legally, you couldn’t discuss any specific people at your school due to the mountain of NDAs you had to sign to even step foot on the UA campus, but you could vague text with the best of them and managed to convey your plight easily: 

You were stuck in a group project with a misogynistic partner who already sexually harassed you on multiple occasions and there was no way out of it without failing the entire class.  

Most of your friends were sympathetic, having experienced their own share of traumatic group project disasters; while others were beyond outraged and actively threatened violence on your behalf.  But one friend’s advice rose up above the others:

“Just throw the whole boy out, lol.” she wrote; a true sage of wisdom and brevity.

There was no way Grape Juice could be a hero. 

There was no way Grape Juice could be a hero.  

But what if Mineta wasn’t Grape Juice anymore?  

“We have to rebrand,” you whisper breathlessly, leaping up from the couch and stuffing a heaping arm full of snack wrappers into the trash before dashing off to your bedroom. 

Included with the paperwork Principal Nezu had given you was a series of passwords to access various official school accounts.  They had been charmingly penned onto a piece of note paper with tiny white mice tangled up in a daisy chain that curled around the border; a deceptively endearing choice of stationary for someone who had single-handedly made your life a living Hell.

Most of the passwords were for your personal use, like your school email account and log-in to access to the library search engine; but others were earmarked for you to utilize for project purposes.  Specifically, a log-in for the UA student file servers that allowed you access to any file tagged with Mineta’s name so long as it wasn’t marked as Top Secret.  There were obviously quite a few files that met that qualification based on how many gaps there were in the available file dates.  Some months had short runs of days missing while others, more ominously, had multiple weeks unaccounted for.  

Even with the gaps in his record, the amount of data about Mineta that you were allowed access to honestly made you wildly uncomfortable.  Nearly every square inch of campus was being constantly monitored and it resulted in an absolute glut of video footage both heroic and mundane: class exercises, training sessions in the gyms, visits to the vending machines between lessons, sticking a spit covered finger into a blonde guy’s ear- every single moment of his life on the UA campus was accounted for and cached for posterity.  

What purpose saving footage of someone sorting their laundry and picking their nose could possibly serve was an absolute mystery to you.  And even though you were very interested in what the potential answer to that question could possibly be, you were also quite certain that you would never be able to muster up the appropriate amount of gumption it would take to inquire about it with the Principal.   

Time ticked on as you queued up and watched video after video; eyes glued to your laptop screen well into the night.  

After the third time you nearly blew out an eardrum being audibly assaulted by the explosive guy detonating increasingly large blasts, you turned off the sound and went back to jotting down notes about Mineta's in-class performance. 

There was an interesting shift in his fighting style between the earliest and most recent recordings.  During his first year he was hesitant to enter into conflict and stuck to the rear during altercations, which was very understandable considering it was his first foray into utilizing his quirk for combat purposes.  The transformation from civilian to Hero was a terrifying and perilous one that didn't happen overnight.   

Even as he gained experience Mineta still tended to keep to the rear of battle; offering mid-range support, collecting intelligence, and strategizing.  And while it absolutely pained you to admit it, he was a fantastic asset when he kept out of the fray directly.  You had literal pages of notes from skirmishes where his team had achieved victory thanks to his quick thinking and creative use of his Quirk for support purposes.  

But something truly devastating must have happened during one of the weeks you were missing footage for, because when the recordings finally picked back up everything- everyone was different.  

Previously confident students who had casually sauntered into exercises with wide smiles were now flinging themselves into battle; hitting fast and hard with clenched jaws and feral glints in their eyes.  Before, there had been joy spun into their every movement; children reveling in the feeling of power that freely utilizing their Quirks produced.  They had been glorious to watch, radiant and jubilant in equal measure.  The newer footage offered a stark contrast; their postures defensive and muscles tense, eyes scanning their surroundings and constantly assessing for threats. 

They were, you realized, terrified. 

You paused the video as Mineta darted to the front of the group, his arm frozen mid-punch and eyes welling with tears.  The rest of the classmates in frame didn’t look any better off; their eyes sunken and expressions grim and drawn.   

“What happened to all of you?” you whisper into the dark of your room.  There were still more videos you needed to get through but you didn’t have the energy to handle anymore second-hand misery tonight.  Collapsing face first onto your bed, you hug your lumpy pillow tightly to your chest and fall asleep almost instantly; surrounded by the empty walls of your room and greeted in your dreams by empty eyes.    

“So, I've read over your questionnaire and have some thoughts,” you begin, dropping down onto the bench beside Mineta.  

“I’m sure you do,” Mineta scoffed as he took a long swig from his water bottle.  His schedule was packed today so you'd had to squeeze in a quick meeting during the brief cool down time between his morning training sessions.  

"We don't have a lot of time, so I'm just going to cut to the chase," you said, pulling out the folder you had stayed up half the night collating. “Have you ever thought about rebranding?”

Mineta choked on the mouthful of water he was swallowing, turning his face into the crook of his arm as he coughed wetly.  You whacked him firmly on the back a few times; partly to help him regain respiration but mostly because you wanted the chance to hit him without risking retaliation.  

“Ex-excuse me?” he sputtered, spitting water droplets down onto your shoe.  You slap his back again- a bit harder than you had previously; and open up your folder to the first page.

“It’s just that I don’t think your current hero image really matches up with the hero you want to be; the hero you could be," you inform him, shoving your proposal outline over onto his lap.  "The main demographic you want to appeal to is women, right?”

“Yes?”

“Do you really think the name Grape Juice is going to do that?  I don’t even have to put a focus group together to tell you that name would be far more successful with kids as the target demographic.”   

Mineta looked thoughtfully down at the binder, quietly flipping through the pages with an inscrutable expression on his face; pausing for a while on a graph you'd created that showed children were the top consumers of grape juice by a significant margin.

"I can't say I ever really gave it much thought- rebranding, I mean,"  Mineta admitted as he quickly checked the time, closed up the folder, and dropped down onto the ground to do some hamstring stretches to prepare for his next training session. "But I'll be graduating this year and submitting my Hero name for approval to the Commission's official registry.  So I guess now is as good a time as any to think it over and make sure I'm certain about my choice.”

"I don't mean to pressure you or anything, I just wanted to float the idea by you to make sure you weren't totally against it before I sank any more time into working on it," you weakly assured him, hoping he wasn't picking up on your thinly veiled desperation. "I know people can get attached to their Hero personas and I didn't want to offend you by offering unsolicited advice."

"You aren't kidding!" Mineta laughed dryly, twisting his legs into some complicated sort of stretch your legs would never be able to successfully duplicate. "Some of my classmates have had their Hero Names picked out since they were kids."

"That's actually kind of impressive.  I won a goldfish at a festival when I was younger and it died before I was able to decide on a name for it," you admitted with a sigh, thinking of your sickly looking fish that spent more time wedged into a corner eating aquarium gravel than in the large plastic castle you'd spent weeks saving your allowance to afford.

"That's not surprising. Festival fish always die fast," Mineta grunted, his face locked between his knees as he grasped his toes.  

"Mine lived for six years.”  

Mineta, surprised by your revelation, lurched forward with an amused snort and ended up overextending his stretch; body seizing in pain as he tipped over onto his side with a pitiful wail.

“Ow, ow, ow! I pulled a muscle in my butt!” Mineta cried, frantically massaging the afflicted cheek of his derrière.  The hilarity of the situation was too much for you to resist and you found yourself laughing at Mineta’s misfortune as he rolled from side to side on the scrubby grass; the anxious knot in your stomach loosening ever so slightly.  

[aerialsquid]

FFXIVWrite: Day 10

Day 10: Channel

Thancred cannot say he's…comfortable with this new assignment. He's used to doing the bulk of his spycraft alone, or with some extremely trusted ally. But Urianger is the only one who will know the runes in question on sight, and the only one who is available, so Thancred's dressed him up in ragged robes and cheap gaudy jewelry and dragged him out on assignment

The man's smart, sure, no one ever says he's not smart, but there's smart and then there's smart. It's a separate smart that keeps you from being stabbed for a spy than lets you discern the meanings of the stars. As long as he keeps his damned mouth shut, hopefully they can maintain the charade, but the minute anyone in this bar hears a ten-gil word from a ragged pirate the entire jig is up.

But then the unwitting informant he's trying to get drunk enough to show him the new amulet he stole from the Nymian ruins finds himself just a hint of intelligence at the bottom of his glass. "And who's your friend, huh?"

"Come on, Estelluax. You know me," Thancred wheedles, but Estellaux refuses to be swayed. 

"I know you. I don't know him." And he thrusts his stubby-nailed finger in the air toward Urianger. 

"He's not said a word. Just sits there like a damn tonberry, staring at me. And you know what tonberries do, right?"

"I–yes, I'm aware."

"They stab you!"

"Yes, I know they stab you, you've mentioned the stabbing, but my friend here is not a tonberry."

"Okay, then who is he?" Estellaux leans in, snarling as if the tonberry theory is actually up for debate. Thancred swiftly holds a mental debate on whether he wants to claim his dear non-tonberry friend had his tongue cut out by the Amal'jaa or was rendered near-insensate by a horrific trauma.

Urianger leans forward and Thancred feels his stomach clench. Time seems to slow down as the man's lips part and.

And someone else speaks from Urianger's mouth.

"If'n you'd be wanting to know me ye'd either best be paying coin I know ye ain't got, or best be a lot prettier," the alien entity snarls in a perfect Lhimsa Lominsan drawl. "Me sainted mother, of blessed memory these twenty years past, named me Seren, and Seren's all the name ye need to know." He turned and spat on the floor, then settled back against his chair. "Now stop wasting me time."

—

"What in the seven hells was that?" Thancred asks later, when Urianger is transcribing the runes in their tiny inn room.

"Didst thou mean the provincial demeanor I adopted for the purposes of our shared ruse?"

"Yes!"

Urianger chuckles. "For all that thou doth jest that mine father was cuckolded by a library, I did not emerge from the womb speaking in such a manner as I doth do now. All language is learned, and I do not even speak merely of the verbal tongues." 

He continues writing as he spoke, but his free hand gestured about in the air. "Body language, accent, how to speak and when to stay silent, when thine eyes must capture the gaze of another and when one must look away. All these things a child must understand from a young age, but some come to it naturally and others must learn it by rote. I myself have no natural affinity for the matter at all. I learned how to act in society step by step, as carefully practiced as a Kugane geisha's movements but performed just as naturally. It is a trifling matter to simply learn to perform the same act with a new language, once the gargantuan matter of learning it once is put aside."

Thancred chews his lips as he perches on the edge of the innroom bed, watching Urianger blow on the drying ink of his journal.

"Okay, but can you do it again? Because it was a little hot."

[alectoperdita]

Smutember 2022 Day 1: Library

Silence is golden

Part of Lure, a Kaijou yakuza AU

Rating: Explict Ship: Jounouchi Katsuya/Kaiba Seto Tags: Master/Pet, Power Imbalance, Public Sex, Fear Play, Edge Play, Rough Oral Sex, Deepthroating, Come Swallowing

@smutember​​ 2022 day 1 prompt: Library @smutember​ 2022 day 8 prompt: Be quiet!

Jounouchi and Kaiba spend some quality time together at the Domino University library. Set one week after Nothing comes free.

Read on AO3

🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪 🔪  

It was deathly silent.

Jounouchi had been to graveyards with more signs of life. Maybe it was the time of day—early evening meant most students were eating dinner—or libraries were always this awkwardly quiet.

He didn't know. He didn't hang around places like this. He wouldn't even be here if Kaiba had ordered him to come to campus via text message.

So fucking quiet.

Except for the wet, deafening sounds of his throat contracting around the cock plugged inside him and his labored breathing muffled against Kaiba's groin. Mercifully, this meant Kaiba had to keep his trap shut too. No dirty talk. The only acknowledgement Jounouchi earned from the other boy was one hand tangled in his hair.

Being shoved under a table wasn't comfortable. Not a new experience for Jounouchi, but the public setting was. They were in a remote spot on the far end of the top floor, as far away as possible from restrooms, elevators, and stairs. This book section must be an unpopular subject because Jounouchi hadn't seen another soul since they arrived. There was one other table nearby, and it sat empty the entire time Kaiba groped him before ultimately forcing him to his knees.

Logically, he knew Kaiba had scoped out the place beforehand. Because as much as the kumicho delighted in sexually humiliating him, Kaiba couldn't afford to be caught in a compromising position either.

Still, the risk of discovery wasn't zero.

And maybe that non-zero possibility was the reason Jounouchi's dick strained against his jeans. He was painfully, achingly hard. He resisted the urge to touch himself, though. Kaiba never forbade it outright, but he knew the other boy would disapprove if he tried. No, Jounouchi kept both hands perched on Kaiba's knees, so it was always clear where they were. Last week's punishment still sat at the forefront of his mind.

Jounouchi was here to please Kaiba, nothing more. To be his personal cock sleeve.

Wood creaked as Kaiba shifted minutely in his seat. A commanding tug on Jounouchi's hair eased the cock head out of his convulsing throat. A moan built in his chest as Kaiba's slick shaft glided across his tongue. He swallowed it uneasily. It was so much harder to stay quiet when his mouth wasn't completely stuffed. Greedily, he lapped at the slit and swirled his tongue around the tip, encouraging the production of more pre-cum that he swallowed without hesitation.

Kaiba hummed, barely audible, but a faint note of approval strummed through it. Jounouchi's blood roared in his ear. His cock throbbed in his pants. He redoubled his efforts, sucking quietly on the head and rubbing the underside with his tongue.

Kaiba allowed him to dictate the blowjob's pace for the next several minutes. But the hand clasping his locks was a constant reminder that Kaiba was ultimately in charge. Not that Jounouchi ever forgot.

He couldn't afford to.

It was in his best interest to pick up the pace. Just because no one had come across them yet didn't mean it'd stay that way. The sooner he got Kaiba to blow his load, the sooner he could get out from underneath this cramped table. Yet he took his time suckling and licking Kaiba's arousal as if it was a lollipop, his favorite one.

Could he get Kaiba to make more involuntary noises? Or even get him to crack and address Jounouchi directly?

Good boy—he so desperately wanted to hear those words from Kaiba's lips.

If only he could see Kaiba's face and Kaiba could watch him worship his cock in return. Kaiba's flesh pulsed in his mouth. He felt hard enough to pound nails. Certainly hard enough to pound Jounouchi's ass until he was reduced to a drooling mess.

Well, even more of a drooling mess than he already was.

Wanton need simmered in Jounouchi's gut. Hollowing his cheeks, he increased the suction and took Kaiba's length into his throat again. He trembled and reveled in the feeling of his throat being split open—in how full he felt—how Kaiba owned him, pure and simple. Under his palms, though, Kaiba's thigh muscles twitched and flexed. If they were anywhere more private, Kaiba wouldn't think twice before viciously fucking his face and throat.

But they weren't home. They weren't even in a public bathroom stall. So Jounouchi did his utmost best to keep quiet as he bobbed his head up and down. Especially when Kaiba's cock slammed into the back of his throat, evoking sharp hunger pangs with every thrust. His scalp stung from how hard Kaiba pulled his hair.

Kaiba was close, as was Jounouchi. Despite being completely untouched, he was already on the verge of coming. He couldn't wait to drink Kaiba's cum.

"Kaiba-san?" A female voice rang clear across the stacks.

Jounouchi froze. The sharp click of high heels drifted over from a nearby aisle, steadily moving toward them. If he hurried, he could tuck Kaiba back and crawl out before this person reached their table. But when he tried to peel off, Kaiba clamped a hand over his neck and shoved him down.

Jounouchi's nostrils flared as his panic deepened. He couldn't contain the choked noise he made when Kaiba slammed deep into his throat again. It probably wasn't audible under the footsteps. Unable to move, his gaze flitted sideways, and he watched helplessly as a pair of pink heels stopped less than a meter to his right. The legs were bare, showing off dainty ankles and shapely calves.

"Inoue-san," greeted Kaiba with a slight strain in his voice. "You're here late."

She giggled. "I could say the same for you, Kaiba-san. My, my, you work hard, don't you?"

At that moment, Jounouchi wished Kaiba was significantly less hard in his mouth. Was the sick bastard getting harder?

"I thought I'd get a head start on the next section of econ," said Kaiba. Underneath the table, he started stroking the nape of Jounouchi's neck.

To Jounouchi's mortification, the touch soothed his anxiety and mollified his protests. It was time to accept his situation. Inoue, whoever she was, obviously had no idea what was going on under her nose. As long as he didn't move and stayed quiet, she'd have no reason to suspect anything was amiss.

Jounouchi could do that. He could be Kaiba's cock sleeve and keep him hard and warm in his mouth until this chick went away. Then they could finish what they started. He'd suck Kaiba dry. Hopefully, there was a reward for him afterward.

And it was thrilling. Jounouchi's body certainly thought so. His heart hammered, racing from a mix of fear and excitement. Blood flooded his burning face and his stiff dick. Saliva pooled in his mouth. It dribbled past his lips and down his chin in sticky rivulets. His skin felt clammy. He tingled from head to toe, desperate and overstimulated. Riding an adrenaline rush to boot.

They were getting away with something unspeakably filthy. A dirty little secret that only he and Kaiba shared.

Times like this made him grateful that Kaiba trained the gag reflex out of him months ago. As the kumicho would say, a good sleeve should always be ready to take cock. The fingers rubbing circles on his skin seemed to encourage him to continue, so he did. He tried wiggling his tongue. It was the only thing he could do without making noise. The flesh laid across his tongue jumped. Kaiba's legs stiffened as he sat up even straighter.

Satisfaction coursed through his veins as Jounouchi repeated the motion. This was his purpose: servicing and pleasing Kaiba. He'd do a good job, too. Wouldn't give the other boy a reason to find him lacking or punish him. 

The conversation continued overhead. Something about a class reading. Jounouchi couldn't care less. Why won't she go away? Didn't she know? No talking in the library, dammit! Even he knew that.

"So where's your friend?"

"Pardon?"

From the corner of his eyes, her legs turned toward the other chair that was pushed in. Jounouchi left his jacket draped over its back. The oversized windbreaker's sleeves hung centimeters off the floor. It wasn't enough to hide Jounouchi completely, not if someone looked straight under the table, but it afforded some protection.

"Jounouchi-kun—"

He couldn't tense at the sound of his name. Not that he could go anywhere. Not with the iron stranglehold Kaiba had on him.

"—I saw you both earlier this afternoon."

Realization hit him with the force of a train. He tensed. That was why she sounded familiar. Inoue—Hitomi, she hit on him last week. She was the reason that Kaiba had meted out such a humiliating punishment. Why couldn't she leave him in peace?

"He had to step away," said Kaiba, continuing to caress Jounouchi's neck. Oh, the bastard was definitely enjoying this turn of event. "I'm not sure when he'll return."

"Oh, that's too bad. Tell him I said hi, then?"

She sounded disappointed. Jounouchi decidedly wasn't.

"Certainly. I'll let him know."

"Thanks, Kaiba-san! Have a good night!"

"You too, Inoue-san."

It felt like an eternity before her footsteps faded. Jounouchi gradually relaxed. A mistake, as he received no warning before Kaiba yanked his head back, then down again. An involuntary whine tore out of him before Kaiba's cock plunging into his abused throat cut the sound short. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably. Kaiba groaned and retreated a fraction before bitter cum flooded Jounouchi's mouth, coating his roof and tongue. He furiously blinked back tears as he struggled to swallow without spilling a drop. Kaiba held him firm for several beats as his dick twitched and pumped the dredges of his orgasm down Jounouchi's gullet.

Jounouchi's chest heaved despite his shallow breaths. Overwhelmed—he was so overwhelmed by the taboo and shame. He hadn't even cum yet. He barely registered Kaiba releasing him. Well-trained reflex prompted him to suck the other boy's softening cock clean of any remaining semen. Finally, he let the dick slip from his mouth and gulped another mouthful of salty fluid.

Before he could catch himself, he rested his sweaty forehead against Kaiba's knee. He panted silently as his mouth and lungs gasped for air. Fingertips grazed his cheek. He flinched, but Kaiba merely scratched behind his ear as if he was a dog. Much like the belly rubs, it was so demeaning, but it felt nice. Powerless, he leaned into it, biting his lips so he didn't whimper.

"Good boy," whispered Kaiba, running his trimmed nail over the shell of Jounouchi's ear. "You can touch yourself now."

Jounouchi didn't need to be told twice. He hastily undid his fly and dove one hand into his underwear. It took less than a handful of rough strokes and ear scratches before he spilled himself into his fist. Nor did he make a peep as he came.

They were at the library, after all.

[jullinh4x]

Doors × The Cursed Robot

Cursed Mega Man and his friends were playing Doors(Roblox) in a Lan house,everyone was having fun.

-I hope some of you have a Crucifix!

-Don't worry,just don't die

Everyone started the game normally,did the objectives,escaped the entities,until the PC that Cursed Mega Man was sitting on started blinking non-stop

-Mercy!is the Rush or the PC crashed?!

-But Rush doesn't flash like that!

-Oh my God!It looks like it's getting worse!

-Chauncy!I'm scared!

The PC turn off out of nowhere and the room went black in the same second.

-I think we better get out of here...

Everyone left the room and wondered what had happened, until Cursed Ice Man looked back and saw a mysterious black puddle

-Mega Man...did you bring Blacky here?

-No,why?

Cursed Mega Man and the others looked back and saw a strange black creature with only one eye emerging from the black puddle.

-RUN!SEEK IS HERE!

Everyone run out of the Lan house and warned the others that they were being chased,the others were confused but soon realized what was happening

-GUYS!HIDE IN THAT LIBRARY!

The other Robot Masters rushed into the library, little did they know that something worse was waiting.

-Jesus Christ!We've got to get out of here!

-Shhhhh!

The Robot Masters crawled across the floor silently so as not to attract the Dermongorgon-like creature and by some miracle,they all managed to get out.

-We need to know what happened here!

-Yes,let's hide in a safe place!

Meanwhile, Cursed Mega Man and his friends were trapped with that creature surrounding them.

-PLEASE DON'T KILL US!WE WERE JUST PLAYING!

-Calm down, idiots!I was just looking for someone to help me,but apparently you don't give a damn

-Ah,sorry...a thousand apologies!

-Alright,maybe you know me...I'm Seek

-I'm Cursed Mega and these guys are my friends,Scythe Woman,Cursed Ice Man,Cursed Cut Man and Cursed Chaoquite

-How did you and the other entities get here?

-I don't know...probably Glicth messed with the game system and ended up taking us here accidentally

-Okay,call the other entities,let's try to get you guys back to the game

Everyone went to the Lan house and Seek called the entities into the Lan house

-Okay,Glicth and me are going to tinker with the game system and bring you guys back!

-Psst!

-He said "Okay!"

Cursed Elecman and Glicth messed with the game system and found the character file, where they started clicking and with that, the entities were teleported into the game.

-Seek,it was nice meeting you, hope we meet again both in real life and in the game

-I also loved meeting you!I hope we'll meet again

Seek hugged Cursed Mega Man and Seek went back to his game.

-Well,you can play normally,maybe nothing will happen

-Thanks Elecman!Seek is happy with his friends in the game

[asksuccubussides]

(Hi, me again.)

I’d like to go with you if it isn’t a bother. I can just scuttle around the walls while you talk to Emile.

Sketch

"Alrightie. Come on lil buddy"

Remus got up from his bed and it was quite noticeably that he'd recently eaten in his unsual demon way. With his skin less pale and his movements less slow and shaky he looked a lot more like Roman, which he would probably vehemently deny.

You followed along the long white halls that made up the succubi living quarters. He made a sudden turn into something that looked like a mix between a library and an office. It stood out from the rest of the halls since it was bathed in warm earth tones. Brown floors and bookcases mixed with green desks and beige mats.

A succubus was sitting up on one of the desks with their back turned against Remus and you. Remus got a mischevious grin on his lips as he put his finger against his mouth to make you shush.

"That's Reeeemmmmyyy! Let's spook the guts out of them!" He was half whispering even if he fully knew they couldn't hear him.

He sneaked on the tips of his toes while laughing. His tail was swinging back and forth behind him out of evil excitement. He stopped right behind Remy and got ready to pounce when Remy suddenly turned around and smacked him on the forehead like a sibling would.

Remus' mouth hung agape for a moment before exclaiming "HOW DID YOU KNOW I WAS COMING!?!? You sneaky fuck! You ruined my scare!"

While he talked he signed every third word or so with his hands. He had a bad habit of skipping signs when he got filled with any sort of extreme emotion.

'I could still see your shadow Ridiot' Remy signed back, signing the letter R before idiot to indicate it was such an idiotic move only one of the R twins could have been behind it.

'Gonna lock my shadow up before jumping on you next time' Remus rembered you were stil there and told you directly "This is Remy by the way. They're a silly bitch with brocoli growing out of their ass and-"

'I can still read lips RIDIOT!' Remy interrupted, making their hand movements bigger to show they were doing the sign language equivalent of yelling.

"And they're deaf so please think of that if you're gonna speak to them" He covered his mouth before continuing so Remy couldnt read his lips "Andasillybitch" He moved his hand away again signed to Remy 'This is sketch. She's one of those weird sunglassed non demons that keep popping up'

He held you up like you were a tiny dog or a ferret. You got a good look at Remy. Their stark white hair stood out the most, you hadn't seen any demons with non human hair colors so far. They wore sunglasses that hid their eyes and their blue horns looked a bit like a rams. Their skin was so pale it took almost a blueish tone that matched with their blue and black clothes.

Remy waved hello to you while giving a relaxed smile.

'You here to talk with Emile?' The sign for Emile was one they'd made up. It was like a mix of the signs for honey and babe. 'Cause you sure as hell wasn't here yesterday when you should have. Y'know Orange's gonna super bitch about that on the next meeting'

Remus waved it off "Yeah Yeah. I'll gnaw off his feet and feed the toes to crows or something"

Remy's expression softened a little as they asked 'Were you on earth?'

He nodded. They silently bumped their forehead against his, they knew he was only on earth if he had to do his job.

They stood up and let him lean his head against theirs as he followed them a bit further into the room where Emile Picani had his desk set up.

Emile was focused on writing something with a pen with a lil elephant eraser on the top of it. He had a beanbag as a chair, a stitch plushie watching from the top of a stack of books and his desk was decorated with stickers from various cartoons.

He shone up like the sun when he saw the three of you. Remy made place for themself on his lap and kissed his cheek. He had a fluffy afro and long reddish horns that nearly created a circle around the top of his head, like a saint. He wore loose brown soft clothes and a bright pink tie.

"Remus! Just the demon I've been looking for" Emile scrambled to find his glasses and report card in the mess that was his desk "Ready to give your monthly report?"

"No I'm ready to assasinate the both of you..Kidding uhuhahauhhhghh...." He let out a sigh "I've seduced 4 humans this month"

"Aw buddy. You must be hungry" Emile commented like he usually did while writing it down "I'm sure you're just a late bloomer. You'll find someone that tingles your tongle someday. The latest bloomed flowers are the prettiest"

"Yeah...I'm aiming for a venus fly trap"

Remy and Emile are now open for asks!

[impossiblescissorspeachpaper]

Basically 1k+ words of Az internally gushing about El. Enjoy x

She really was breathtakingly beautiful. The manner in which her full lips formed around words as she spoke animatedly, the way she did whenever she was talking about her plans for her gardens, really was so alluring. Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled and crinkled in the corners when she described all her plans to expand the flower beds, add a fountain in the back terrace, edge the footpath leading to the front door with begonias in the spring.

Azriel had stopped pretending to read the reports Nuala had handed him that morning long ago, opting to instead watch Elain. Simply watch her work. They sat together in the library at the River House. She lay sprawled out on the ornate rug in front of the deep velvet couch he sat in. She looked so at ease, at home. She had plans and blueprints haphazardly scattered around her, clippings and notes scrawled on scraps of paper, full of her ideas for different gardens across their families’ residences in the Night Court. As if she needed to catalogue her chaotic plans all times of day or night and scribbled onto anything she could get her hands onto before the thought eddied from her mind.

The skirts of her periwinkle gown flowed around her legs which she had elegantly folded beneath her, and as she leant forward, resting on a palm, she made an adjustment to one of her sketches, crossing out a description and jotting down a new thought. Her golden-brown hair fell forward into her face as she did so and she pushed it back behind a pointed ear impatiently, all the while still prattling on about her plans as Azriel silently listened.

And it wasn’t that he wasn’t interested in what she had to say. He cared about everything she said. He never forgot a thing she shared with him. It was simply that so few got to see Elain in this manner; sprawled on the floor, barefoot, hair unbound, speaking almost non-stop about something she enjoyed so passionately. He adored this side of her. It never ceased to amaze him that she had grown comfortable enough in his presence to show him this side of her. And so, whenever this version of the sweet, reserved sister came out, he made a point to just listen, and observe. Track every movement, every mannerism, every word she spoke. He documented it all. He found her voice so melodic and soothing. Even his shadows purred in pleasure around her, settling contentedly and being lulled into a security he seldom felt around anyone else.

She turned in place and pulled a thick, heavy tome from a stack behind her on Horticulture that she lay on her lap, flipping open to a page about water irrigation systems. She continued her monologue, wondering aloud if Rhys had ever considered installing such systems in his Courts’ gardens and parks. She was sure many of the plants in the City’s arboretum would benefit from such a feature and it may even provide further opportunity in the Hewn City to be able to grow more variations of plants in the underground acropolis. Did they grow many plants in the Hewn City? Could she cultivate more varieties with such little sunshine? She would have to take note next time she visited.

He silently marvelled at her. Completely in awe at how she could even perceive beauty and worthy potential in a place as horrid as the Hewn City. That she would even think to insert loveliness in a place so dark, so full of shadows and monsters. He couldn’t help but think that those who thought Elain Archeron did not belong in the Night Court were so sorely mistaken. What utter nonsense that she could possibly belong anywhere else. Where others thought of the Night Court containing only nightmares and terrors, she understood that good lived amongst it, in fact required it, to be what it is. That even though you may not be ready for the night, it cannot always be day. That shadows and darkness cannot exist without sunshine and light. She was the Night Courts’ perfect oxymoron, the opposite side of the same coin. She soothed those dark corners and dim thoughts and balanced them with her own special breed of light and optimism. Not a foe, but someone who saw all the darkness had to offer and simply said, I see you.

And indeed, she saw it all. Not just through the Sight the Cauldron had gifted her. But through the innate goodness that was her. For had it been by an alternate twist of fate that Elain had not been gifted with such resplendent powers, her abilities of empathy would not be diminished in this sense. That this young female saw so much goodness in the entirety of the Night Court gave him hope that someday she may see the good in him too. That she would look upon his shadows and darkness and see a male who was worthy of her attention. I wish I could call you mine! he so desperately wanted to confess. Not that he thought himself worthy of her loveliness, her admiration, her consideration. He pushed the self-deprecating thoughts back down.

He continued watching her, so passionately describing to him how her plans over the next season would hopefully bring to fruition the successful cultivation of moonflowers and wisteria, bred to bloom at night and provide a lovely backdrop for their Starfall festivities in a few months’ time. She explained to him how they flowered seasonally, and their perfume would be strongest at night. Gods. How he longed to reach out and brush her hair from her face and utter that if she were to be present at Starfall, no one would notice the moonflowers and wisteria. They would simply be too enamoured, be irrevocably enchanted, by her. He ached to trace his fingers along the dip of her collar bones, up her creamy neck… To express to her how he valued her and her input in brightening up their lives, in her own unique way. How invaluable she was in this Court and in this family.

But for now, he just settled more comfortably into the soft cushions of the sofa to watch her talk about her plans. And he listened, with rapt attention. Never even considering missing a single word she uttered. Documenting every minute detail and enveloping them in his shadows, for him only. Keeping them safe.

[cursedwriter]

Dancing with your Ghost - Fushiguro Megumi

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist 

Warnings: Deals with death, Megumi has various breakdowns, it’s just really sad over all... sorry for making you cry in advance! 

Words: 4.9k

Author’s Note: Kind of inspired by this song: Dancing with your Ghost - Sasha Sloan // Also, when they dance, I kinda imagined them to dance to this: Technicolour Beat - Oh Wonder 

“Is he still in there?” Yuji pointed at the door by the end of the hallway. Gojo was walking in his direction, his expression unreadable.  

“No matter what I tell him, he won’t come out.” His voice sounded tired, almost worn out. The sight must’ve been hard for him to bear. Itadori gulped. He wasn’t sure if he could take it. “You should try talking to him. Maybe he will listen to you. We both know he would regret it if he missed the ceremony.” Gojo patted Yuji on the shoulder, hand lingering for a few additional seconds in silent comfort.

“I’ll try my best,” Itadori nodded, though, he sounded more hopeful than he was. This was going to be rough.

Soon after, Gojo disappeared behind the corner and out of sight. His shoulders were slouching and his head was hanging low as if he couldn’t walk upright. This was hard on everyone. But the person who had it the worst of all was…

“Fushiguro, can I come in?” Yuji knocked on the door three times. No answer. He tried again. This time more forceful. “Hey, Megumi! It’s me, Yuji! Do you mind if I come in?” Still no answer. Itadori sighed, but he pushed the door open anyways, peering into the dimly lit library of the Jujutsu Tech High school. Admittedly, he’s never been in here before. Yuji wasn’t really the non-fiction reader… or anything that wasn’t manga, really. But upon entering the room, he couldn’t help but gawk. The shelves were stacked to the max, piling up above his head in a seemingly endless supply of books. There were books everywhere. The amount of knowledge that was stored in here was immense. And all about curses and jujutsu? Incredible! Maybe he should’ve come here sooner. He bet that there had to be at least a dozen books about Sukuna here somewhere.

“It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any sense.” Itadori was pulled out of his thoughts by the repetitive mantra that was coming from somewhere behind a shelf. He followed the sound that was mingled with quiet sobs and he had to force himself to keep walking. This was more terrifying than facing all the curses of this world together.

“Megumi?” He peered around the shelf, finding his friend sitting on the old wooden floor, frantically flipping through a book with yellowed pages that seemed to be falling apart at the seams. It must’ve been ancient.

“No sense, no sense, no sense,” he repeated over and over again as if that phrase was the only thing keeping him sane.

“Megumi?” Itadori tried again and finally Megumi’s head snapped up and he looked at Itadori like a deer caught in headlights… only way worse. His eyes were bloodshot with dark purple circles underneath them. A stark contrast to his sickly pale skin. Briefly, Yuji wondered if Megumi had slept at all since it happened. Tears were streaming down his face and it felt like they would never stop. An endless river of sorrow and despair. Yuji was sure he heard his own heart shatter in his chest as he looked at his best friend. He wished he could take some of the pain away. Even if it was just a little, but of course that was impossible. “The ceremony will start soon and-“

“That’s stupid!” Fushiguro cut him off harshly, his voice hoarse and quieter than usual. “Why would there be a freaking ceremony when she’s coming back?!”

“Megumi, she-“

“No! Stop it!” He yelled, throwing the book he was reading against the opposite wall. “Stop it! Shut up!” He pressed his palms against his temples as if he wanted to crush his own skull. “I’ll do it, you’ll see! All of you! You’ll see! I’ll bring her back! I’ll bring her back, okay?! I will – I will!” He repeated it over and over again and it was apparent that he wanted to proof himself right more than anything else. Maybe making him believe would help ease his pain? Should he encourage him? No. Despite wishing that he could provide some words of comfort right now, Itadori knew that false hope would be the cruelest thing he could offer. No matter how much it hurt, but Megumi couldn’t go on like this… searching for something that wasn’t real.

“Megumi, please. You’ll regret it if you don’t come,” Itadori tried again, picking up the book that Megumi had thrown away. He flipped through the first pages and he could already tell that the answers Megumi was searching for weren’t in this book. It was mostly about how sorcerers could reincarnate as curses if their dead bodies weren’t handled properly. If they died you had to make sure that the last hit was infused with cursed energy. Usually, that took care of things. However, if they died of natural causes, diseases or accidents there was a special ritual, a ceremony that made sure their bodies were put to rest accordingly. Kind of like a funeral, but then again, not quite. This was the ceremony Fushiguro refused to attend, even though it was highly valued among sorcerers. It was a way to pay your last respects, value their accomplishments and thank them for their sacrifice. He probably refused to go because that would make her death final and he would be forced to move on, no matter how hard it would be… and it was going to be very hard.

“SHE’S COMING BACK, DAMMIT!” Megumi yelled at him, reaching for another book that was stocked in a pile he’d built himself. The tower crumbled with the way he yanked it out, dozen books falling to the ground, scattering to their feet. It was eerily quiet for a second, Yuji didn’t dare to speak. The atmosphere so thick, he doubted even Maki’s demon blade could cut through it. And then, right when he wanted to say something, anything really to get rid of the suffocating silence in the room, Megumi started sobbing. Not like before. Impossibly, it was even worse. His whole body shook with the action, hands that were clinging onto the book were trembling and despite him hanging his head low, Yuji could see the frequent tears that were hitting the old worn out pages of the book, blurring the ink further, making it almost unreadable.

Hesitantly, he took a step forward, but he wasn’t quite sure what to do. Should he hug him? What could he even say? Should he call for someone? Gojo-sensei? Would he know what to do? Or Nobara? Or, wait! Y/N always knew what to do when it came to him… Oh, right…

Yuji slapped his forehead with the palm of his hand. How could he forget?! It really didn’t feel real yet, huh? Itadori tried to swallow the big lump in his throat as he crouched down and gently took the book out of Fushiguro’s shaking hands. He looked so fragile, as if a single slap to the wrist could break his arm.

“I just don’t get it,” Megumi whispered. His voice sounded far away, as if he was underwater or as if Yuji had cotton in his ears, muffling his voice to a point where it was almost incomprehensible. “It’s just so unfair.”

Yuji placed the book on the ground beside him, skipping over the title “Resurrection and the balance of the world”, it read. He gulped again. Could it be possible?

“I know it is.” He laid a comforting hand on his shoulder and another muffled cry escaped Megumi’s mouth. Yuji had seen a lot over the course of just one year, but not once has he witnessed such utter despair. The sight pulled on his heart strings in ways he couldn’t even explain.

“She fought against the most heinous creatures every day and you’re telling me she died because some fucking asshole thought it was a good idea to drive while being absolutely shit faced?!” Some of his words were swallowed by his sobs, but Itadori understood him well enough. “I refuse to believe that! I refuse to accept that!”

Momentarily Itadori was thrown back to the moment they got the call, he remembered it all too vividly. The shock, the confusion and his scream…

“I’m sorry for your loss,” the nurse led them into the room. The air was chilly and it smelled like disinfectant.  The stench so unbelievably strong, Megumi thought he might throw up. It burned in his eyes and nose and he distantly felt his cheeks getting wet. He couldn’t tell if it was because of the smell or of what was to come… at this point, it still felt like a sick joke, some twisted game or prank. Just not real, like a dream, a nightmare he would wake up from any second.

There was a single bed in the middle of the room, the body underneath covered by a white cloth. Gojo, Nobara and Yuji gathered around it, hands clutched together in front of them as if they were silently praying. Megumi hesitated. He stood in the doorframe, looking at the scene in front of him and nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Everyone was crying. Even Gojo seemed more tense than usual and he was sure he saw a stray tear slip from underneath his sunglasses.

The room was silent, except for the door falling shut behind him as the nurse left them to mourn in peace. This was a dream, right? A nightmare? How could it be anything else?

Megumi’s footsteps echoed off the walls as he hesitantly approached the bed covered in white sheets.

This is just a dream. This is a nightmare. You’re going to wake up any second now. Just wake up. Wake up! Wake up, dammit!

But he didn’t wake up. Not even as he reached for the white cloth. And he didn’t wake up as he slowly lifted it up. He didn’t wake up when everyone sucked in a sharp breath. And he didn’t wake up as Nobara’s knees buckled and she fell to the ground sobbing. He didn’t wake up as he laid his eyes on your peaceful but lifeless face.

Megumi didn’t wake up. But God did he wish he did.

He stood there for what felt like an eternity. Studying your features. How your hair was softly flowing on the pillow, how your lips were slightly parted as if you would wake up at any given moment and tell him something important. But he also noticed that your cheeks lacked their signature pinkish tint and your lips were more blue than their usual vibrant red.

His hand inched closer to your face, connecting to your cheeks and adoringly caressing it. It was cold underneath his touch. Your skin feeling more like wax than it felt alive.

No one said anything, the only sound was Nobara’s quiet sobs that she tried to stiffle to the best of her abilities. Everyone watched Megumi and no one knew what to do. Neither of them has ever felt so helpless. Even Gojo was rendered speechless at the heartbreaking sight in front of him.

And then, everything slowly started to sink in…

She’s gone.  She’s gone. She’s really gone! You’re not waking up! Why aren’t you waking up?! Wake up!! No, no, no. This can’t happen. This can’t happen. This isn’t happening! Tell me this isn’t happening?!

Didn’t I just talk to her this morning? Didn’t we talk about going to the beach as soon as it got warmer? Didn’t we make dinner plans? Didn’t she boast about a new recipe she wanted to try? Didn’t this just happen? And you’re telling me that all of that is just… gone? Just like that? In a moments notice… poof?! Evaporated into thin air? You’re telling me that?

“Wake up, dammit! Wake up, dammit! WAKE UP!”

Everyone stared helplessly at Fushiguro. At first no one knew if he was talking to himself or you, but then he started desperately shaking your shoulders, repeating the words over and over again. “We wanted to go to the beach, remember? You told me you couldn’t wait! Come back, and I’ll drive us right now! Come back! Come back to me, please! Please!”

Gojo couldn’t bear the sight anymore. The way he shook your body as if that would change anything. With a few long strides he closed the distance between him and Megumi and pulled him away from the bed. He was thrashing at him, screaming in his face to let him go, but Gojo didn’t listen. He gladly took a hit or two if that meant Fushiguro could get at least some of his frustration out of his body. To Gojo, the room itself was a hard place to be in – for obvious reasons. The energy here made him feel uneasy and on edge. The amount of cursed energy gushing out of Megumi was immense and almost unbearable. He had to get his emotions in check or else…

Megumi continued to yell and thrash. “Let me go, you bastard! Let me go! I need to see her! I need to see her!”

“I understand that this is hard for you, but you need to calm down!” Gojo’s voice was stern. This was probably the first time ever that he actually put on the façade of a responsible adult. Nobara and Yuji watched the two with wide eyes, but didn’t interfere otherwise. “If you keep this up, you might end up cursing her! Do you want that?!”

“Let me go! Let me go!” Megumi wasn’t listening.

“Megumi, snap out of it!” Gojo’s palm connected to Megumi’s cheek, his flesh burning hot where it had connected. For a moment, the room was silent again. Only Megumi’s labored breaths broke through the thick tension.

“You bastard!” Megumi launched himself at Gojo with all his strength, but that was exactly what Gojo intended. It was better if he directed all his energy towards him than having it leak out of him uncontrollably. Otherwise he had the potential of manifesting a new special grade curse that neither one of them wanted to deal with, especially if you were to be reborn as said curse.

Megumi stopped his relentless attacks, knees buckling under his weight as a single agony filled screamed echoed off the walls…

Megumi slowly opened his eyes. His head was aching, blood soaring in his ears. What happened? He looked around himself. The room was dark, only illuminated by the moon light that peered through his partially closed blinds. He was laying in his bed, the room a mess just like he remembered. That was unlike him. Well, ever since that day he hasn’t been himself at all. Now, he more or less felt like an empty shell, existing but not alive.

He groaned, sitting up while he rubbed his temples, hoping to get the relentless throbbing to stop. Ah, that’s right. A few flashes of the previous events reminded him of what had happened. Megumi’s frustration and anger had gotten the best of him and he started throwing books, ripping them out of their shelves and even tearing some of them apart when he couldn’t find the answers he was looking for. Yuji had to call for Gojo and he in turn had knocked him unconscious.  

Megumi huffed. Great. Now he was probably not permitted to go to the library again. He should really start thinking before lashing out like this. No, matter, though. If push comes to shove he’d find a way in and if it’s the last thing he did. He didn’t really care anymore anyways. What’s the worst that could happen? Expulsion? That was nothing.

He peeled the covers back, his shirt sticking to his body uncomfortably. Maybe he should take a shower before he went back again.

Reluctantly, he got up and walked towards his bathroom, mindful not to trip on anything that was scattered on his floor.

Once he was there, he turned the shower faucet on, letting the water heat up while he stripped out of his clothes. His head was still killing him and his whole body ached. He shivered, even as he got into the shower and the hot water burned his skin. He was still cold. For some reason he didn’t seem to be able to get warm anymore, as if you took all of his warmth with you, when you left him.

“Ew, stop doing that,” you laughed wholeheartedly as Megumi shook his wet hair in your face after coming out of the shower. “Seriously, are you a dog?”

“No, but I love hearing you laugh.” Megumi wrapped his arms around you, pressing your back against his naked chest as you both watched your reflection in the mirror. “I really love you, Y/N. So much,” he whispered in your ear, not taking his eyes off the mirror. He could see the faint blush on your cheeks and he placed a soft kiss to the nape of your neck to emphasize his words.

“I love you, too.” The smile on your lips and the way your eyes sparkled with joy, filled his heart with warmth and light. He could bask in it for all eternity and he would never get tired of it.

Megumi turned the water off, still shivering. It was to no use. His skin was burning red, though, and the whole room was filled with steam and yet, he had goosebumps all over his body. His teeth started clattering as he dried himself and he put on new clothes.

The clock on his bedside table told him that it was three in the morning. He felt like he forgot about something… something important. What was it again?

And then his eyes widened in shock. No, no, no.

“Hey, look!” Megumi felt your slender fingers wrap around his wrist, your warmth immediately warming his cold skin. You tugged him gently and he followed you. It didn’t take long for you to reach your desired destination and you stopped, eyes shining with awe in them as you watched over the city, lights sparkling and illuminating the darkness. Megumi couldn’t deny that the view was breathtaking, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from constantly looking at you instead. The way your face lit up, the way the lights danced on your face and how your cheeks were always tinted in their usual pinkish color, made him fall for you all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and his pulse picked up. Butterflies assaulting his stomach in the best way imaginable and he felt like he was floating above ground. Never has he felt so happy. “There! It’s starting!” You beamed at him as the first flash of light painted the night sky in a bright blue color, then it changed to red and then green. The sound of other fireworks being set off rang through the otherwise silent night. Here, on top of the mountain away from anyone, it was the most peaceful place he could imagine. But he wasn’t sure if it was only because of the view and the fact that no one was around or if it was because you were here. Whatever it was, he didn’t dream to fight it. The feeling so foreign yet so welcomed.

Suddenly your hand appeared in his line of vision and he didn’t hesitate to take it. What he didn’t expect was you starting to spin around. It took him a moment to catch up. “C’mon, Megumi, what are you doing? Don’t just stand there so stiffly! Dance with me!” You urged him on and Megumi felt his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. He could only hope that you couldn’t see it.

“There’s no music, though,” he said, trying to find an excuse to not make a complete fool out of himself. You see, Megumi wasn’t a dancer. Give him a choreographed fighting formation and he could do that no problem, but moving his feet to the rhythm of a song? Nope. That was sure to end in him tripping over his own feet and in the worst case break his leg or arm.

You rolled your eyes at him, but instead of saying anything, you reached into your back pocket to get a hold of your phone. It didn’t take long and the sound of the fireworks was mixed with the soft tune of a song that he didn’t know. “Better?”

Well, not really… Megumi scratched the back of his head, unsure. Better to come clean, I guess. “You see… I can’t really dance… like at all,” Megumi stammered.

“So what? I can’t dance either,” you laughed, spinning around and jumping up and down like it was the most normal thing to do. The smile on your face never faltered and you did another spin, throwing your hands up in the air, moving them around awkwardly. Megumi couldn’t help but laugh at your awkward movements. You looked so silly, it was hilarious. “See? Now it’s only fair that you make a fool out of yourself, too. You can’t leave me hanging like this!”

What the hell, right? Megumi started moving his feet, still super stiffly and anything but graceful, but he did it. He looked at you, following your movements and it didn’t take him long to get the hang of it… well, somewhat at least. He still looked really awkward and helpless, so you reached both your hands out for him again and he grabbed them without hesitation, just like before. You started spinning both of you in circles, giggling at the way his face lit up slightly. He joined your laughter, looking at you with the most adoring smile in the world. It felt… so easy. Everything with you felt so easy.

So now it was just the both of you, spinning around in fast circles, laughing at the night sky filled with stars while in the distance the sound of fireworks slowly died down. The music playing softly in the background, but you didn’t even care that the rhythm of the song didn’t match with your movements at all. Nothing mattered in that moment. Just the two of you. Together. Forever.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d show up.” Gojo scratched the back of his neck, smiling apologetically. “Maybe I was a bit too rough, when I knocked you out. Sorry about that.”

Megumi stared at him sitting in the front row of lined up chairs. The room was only dimly lit by the candles at the other end. The soft light they cast illuminated a picture of you in a black frame. It was the same one he had saved as his phone background. Megumi gulped, feet moving on their own as he approached Gojo, though, he felt his knees wobble unsteadily. The air became thicker and thicker with every other step he took. It felt excruciatingly hard to breathe. It was suffocating.

Megumi sat down on a chair next to Gojo, forcing himself to tear his eyes off the framed picture in front of him. If he didn’t he was afraid he might break down again. So he shifted his attention to the man in the chair next to him. He was already looking at him, his eyes hidden behind his sunglasses, as usual. There was a slight frown in his features, though, and his mouth was pressed into a thin line, a stark contrast to his normally giddy self. So Gojo could be serious, huh? Who would’ve thought? Bet you would’ve loved to see him like that…

“Megumi,” Gojo broke the silence first, his tone soft, but there was a certain sternness behind it that Megumi didn’t know he had until now. It left no room for interpretation. This was going to be a serious talk and Fushiguro didn’t know if he was ready for that yet. “I know that losing someone you care about is not easy and I’m not trying to pretend that I know exactly what you’re going through right now, but I’m telling you as your sensei and as a friend… you have to move on. And that means you have to stop looking for ways to bring her back.”

Megumi opened his mouth to tell him off, but Gojo just held a finger up to show him he wasn’t done yet. The crease between Megumi’s brows deepened, but he kept his mouth shut regardless. “The world works under a few distinct principles. Rules that cannot be broken, if you will. Like we know that after the sun sets, dawn will come. With darkness, there is light and no matter how harsh a winter might be, spring will always come next. And the pinnacle of those rules will always be that with life there comes death. We don’t get to choose when this’ll be or how it’ll happen, but from the moment we’re born we know without a doubt that we’ll have to leave this place at some point. Death is certain. It’s but one part of life and disrupting that cycle, breaking one of the unbreakable rules, would cause the whole system to fall apart. It would level the ground for mayhem and destruction, nothing would make sense anymore. The world would crumble. As sorcerers you know that we protect the ones who cannot protect themselves, but we also maintain balance and Megumi… while I do understand your desire to see her again, I have to warn you… even if there is a chance, I won’t let you do it at the expense of everyone else’s life.”

Silence fell between them again. Megumi had a hard time believing that these words really just came out of Gojo’s mouth. Deep down, he knew he was right. He knew it was a futile plan to bring you back. It was selfish and irresponsible, but he was so… desperate. So desperate to hear your voice again, so desperate to listen to you laugh or complain, so desperate to feel your delicate and warm touch on his cold skin. He was so desperate for these things; he couldn’t think straight. His mind felt foreign to him without you there. He didn’t know who he was, who he would be without you by his side. He didn’t know if he wanted to be in this world anymore with his source of warmth and comfort gone. They said, time healed all wounds but as of now that seemed impossible. Just a thing people told themselves to keep moving forward. A lie that was supposed to protect oneself from the cruel and harsh truth that the world didn’t stop spinning, that time passed by and that dawn always came… no matter what. The world moved forward regardless if you were here or not and it felt like a cruel joke to him. Nothing seemed the same. He didn’t recognize anything, looking at the world with different eyes. How could there be a world without you in it? Why was everyone moving forward while he was left behind? And how could they? How could they move on? Why didn’t the world stop spinning? It should. Because nothing felt right. Nothing was the same. And yet… that only held true for him.

Megumi wiped away his silent tears with the sleeve of his shirt. “But I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” he croaked out. It was the first thing that came to his mind. He replayed the morning with you over and over again and he couldn’t remember if he said goodbye to you when you left that fateful day. Did he? Did he not? In any case, he would’ve never thought how final of a farewell it would’ve been in the end. “I don’t even remember the last thing I said to her,” he sobbed.

He felt beyond guilty for not being able to recall it clearly. Did he say ‘I love you’? Did you say it back? He wanted to believe he did, but he just wasn’t sure and it drove him insane.

“She knew that you loved her very much, Megumi. I’m sure she knew until the very end.” Gojo patted his shoulder a few times, before he got up. “Take all the time you need.” He left the room, closing the door behind him, but not before he turned around one last time, looking at Megumi with worried eyes. “But remember, Megumi… You have to move on eventually, no matter how hard it is. For her sake and your own… Just know that you have people in your life that you can rely on any time, okay?”

Megumi nodded and Gojo let the door fall shut behind him. The silence that ensued was almost deafening. Finally, Megumi let his tears fall freely, sobbing like a child and sucking in air after shallow breaths.

Everything hurt with you gone. How could he ever move on? How could he ever love again? Megumi was scared he might break in half. How much pain could someone even bear? Though, deep down he knew that he didn’t have a choice… He had to try. And he would try his hardest to keep moving forward, holding on to that tiny glimpse of hope that one day he’d see you again. And when he did, he swore to himself to never stop telling you how much he loved you. Always and forever.

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Live Stream Murderer (Part 2) | Spencer Reid x reader

Requested by @thatsonezesty13 / Summary: You’re kidnapped by the Live Stream Murderer, who is in search of his soulmate. He tortures the women for 36 hours and whoever lasts that long is in his eyes; his soulmate. Will you make it through the 36 hours of torture? 

| Part 1 | 

A/N: here is part 2! Thank you for all the attention on part 1! I love seeing all the likes, reblogs and comments, especially the ones asking to be tagged so they don’t miss the next part! <3 hopefully you all enjoy this one as much as part 1!! xx 

*possible trigger warning and could spoil the ending of part 2 for you; blood, talks of death, description of a bloody and headless person 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

**MASTERLIST**

Requests: {OPEN} CLOSED

** Rules for Requesting **

** Who I Write For **

********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Your head was pounding, and you could feel your body was weak from the torture. How long had you been passed out? The last thing you remembered was a hot poker penetrating your side. There sitting in front of you was the man who would probably haunt your nightmares for forever.

He wore a sickening smile, “Hi.. I was wondering when you would wake up.” He stood up and held a red straw to your lips.

“Fuck you.” You whispered weakly. There was no telling what was in that drink and you weren’t about to find out. 

He frowned, “But you’ve made it 28 hours.. only 8 more and you’ll be,” His fingers went to caress your cheek, but you revolted at his touch, “my soulmate.” He said the last word like he was in a loving haze. 

You’d made it through 28 hours with this psychopath? You watched as the man went to the storage closet and pulled out multiple instruments and set them on the table next to you. He clicked a button on a remote and the camera in front of you flashed a red button. You figured it was live streaming now and there was a chance the whole world was watching this freak torture you; including Spencer. 

Oh, Spencer. Your heart felt overwhelmed at the thought of him. He’d suffered the loss of Maeve and you worried he would never recover. This was probably bringing those terrible emotions back to the surface. 

“I have to see if you can withstand more pain.” His voice was behind you and then a knife cutting the ties off your left arm. If you weren’t weak, you’d try to fight him with one hand, but with your injuries suffered so far and the knife still in your leg, there wasn’t much to do. 

“I have to see if you’re my soulmate.” His fingers gripped your upper arm, “This might hurt.” 

Your breathing increased as you wondered what was next. Your eyes fixated on the camera in front of you and you tried to focus on the one thing that made you happy. The one thing you loved most in this world. Spencer Reid. 

~ 

It was a trick you’d been taught during your training. You were keeping your mind preoccupied by coming up with various scenes, happy scenes. Spencer’s face crossed your mind and suddenly you were transported to a library. You were sitting across Spencer, books in front of the both of you. You could see him peeking every once and a while to look at you. You knew because you were doing the same thing to him. 

 “If you keep staring at me, we aren’t ever going to get this finished.” 

His fingers continued to dance across the page as he read and he gave a small smile, “I’m not staring at you.” 

“Okay.” You shut your book, amused, “Tell me what you just read.” 

His fingers stopped and he knew he’d been caught. He finally looked up at you, “I have no idea what I just read.” 

You let out a laugh, “Spencer Reid!” You stood, “We have to finish this paper for Dr. Johnson’s class!” Grabbing the two books on the table, you headed toward a row of library books, “These don’t have what I need.” 

In this imaginary world you and Spencer were young, college students. It was a normal life with no danger. No BAU. No cases. Just you and Spencer living a normal life. 

“I’m sorry!” He chuckles, standing to follow you. He stops behind you as you put the two books back on the shelves, “how am I supposed to concentrate when I’m in front of the most beautiful girl in this universe?” 

You turned around and faced him, “Spencer Reid.” 

“y/n y/l/n.” He copied your tone, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, “I love you.” Those three words. You wanted to hear it again. 

“Say it again.” Your fingers wrapped around his wrist as he cupped your cheek.

His other hand cupped your other cheek and subconsciously caressed your cheek with his thumb, “I love you.” 

~ 

You let out a scream as the man pulled on your arm, dislocating your shoulder from it’s socket. No no.. take me back. Take me back to standing there with Spencer in that library where you heard the words you’d wished he’d confess. 

How much more of this could you take? How much more could anyone take? This was an insane amount of pain and all you wanted to do was sleep. You wanted to give up. 

You sobbed, finally breaking, “Please stop.. just please.” 

“I can’t.” He sighs, “36 hours.” He taps the watch on his wrist. 

You were fading, or at least you wanted to fade away. You’d been strong during all this because you knew you’d get to see Spencer again. He’d been the one to keep you going during this, but right now you don’t know how much more you could take. You wanted to make it through this just to be able to tell him how you felt. Your thoughts slowed and the darkness consumed you. 

~ 

As soon as the live stream was posted, Penelope began working her magic. However, it was still proven to be a challenge on pinpointing the location. 

He had to watch as the man pulled your arm out of it’s socket and listen to your screams of agony. He’d kill him. He knew if he’d ever see this man he’d kill him with his own bare hands for harming you in this way, such a public way. 

“Please.. please hang on just a bit longer.” He pleaded to the screen. 

More disappointment as the live stream cut off when your eyes went closed. You’d passed out from the overwhelming amount of pain and exhaustion. 

~ 

8 hours later there was another livestream, but this time there wasn’t anyone seated in the chair. You were gone and his mind went to worst. You’d lost the battle. 

“I’ve got it! I’ve got the location!” Penelope yelled through the comms, the location immediately sent to everyone’s phone. 

There wasn’t time to think as everyone rushed out the door and toward the known location. However, when they arrived, it was Hotch and JJ who went in first. As Spencer followed, Hotch immediately came back out stopping him at the door. 

“You don’t need to go in there.” 

Spencer was confused, “What? Why not?” He tried to push passed Hotch again and the look on JJ’s face told him everything he needed to know. “Let me see!” 

Hotch lost the grip on the determination of Spencer and he passed through the door way. Spencer skitted to a stop at the sight before him. No no no. 

His knees his the floor.  This wasn’t happening again, please no. He silently begged. “No! No no!” He couldn’t help the sobs that overcame his body. 

There in the middle of the room laying on a blanket where the chair had been was your headless body in a pool of blood. 

Criminal Minds tag list: @thelovelydreamer17​ , @la-vie-en-amour1​ , @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25​ , @astra-inclinant-sed-non-obligant (possibly: @astra-x-inclinant​)  , @bluerose512​ , @lolychu​ , @varsityalthete​ , @televisiondreamstomorrow​ , @harry-hollands​ , @lumineshawn​ , @lyss-xo​ , @rexorangecouny​ , @sassy-hades​ , @britishspidey​ , @ateez-star​

***i’ve added all the ones asked to be tagged in this story to my criminal minds tag list because I only have taglists by the shows and/or character I write for instead of specific stories. In the future if you’d like to be taken off the list, just shoot me a message! xx 

All my works tag list:  @blossomreed​ , @mggstyles  , @simonsbluee​ , @thewolf-and-thesheep​ , @obxrafejjwhore​ , @abbiesthings​ , @itstaskeen​ , @reniescarlett​

[djarinsidebitch]

Hello dear may I please have a Loki NSFW alphabet PLS 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

A/n: Of course doll! again I've never really written for him so I apologize if anything isn't 100% the character but I hope this is good and thank you, darling, for requesting!!

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

He is a literal God at after care, you know he can go from literally railing you into oblivion to caressing your face softly, whispering praises and cleaning you up. 

B = Body part (Their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) He loves your hips- being able to hold onto them in both a sensual and non sensual way, when walking around he likes to have a arm around your waist but in the bedroom he loved gripping onto them hard enough to leave marks marking yourself as his and only his

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person) depends on his mood some days he will cun inside but agains he is possessive so he loves claiming you as his so he wants to paint your body.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) if for some reason you are gone he uses his magic to create a projection of you to jerk oof too- but he has only done it like once. 

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Although he is the epitome of sex he really isnt SUPER experienced, he has done it before of course but they women of asgard where’t throwing themselves at him, but dont worry he got ALOT of experience with you ;)

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual) all of them- but most of the time he likes any that lets him watch your face.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc) he is more serious but he is also the god of mischief so there will be a little joking or comments.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.) he is SUPER groomed, he takes prise in his self care and that is included in it. 

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…) OH BOY This man K I N G of intimacy he will go full send on everything, candles- check, foreplay- check, bought you comfortable lingerie-check, everything you want- he will give you.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon) why jack off when he has the most gorgeous person in all the nine realms in his bed every night.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks) B O N D A G E- but also knife kink- like daymn even maybe an ice kink or overstimulation 

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do) probably the bedroom but with him there is also the kitchen- the bathroom- the library- the wall- the door- really anywhere.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going) You quote poetry or maybe some philosophical book he is so entranced by how beautiful the words sound coming from your lips and that just gets him going, wearing anything close to ‘scandalous’ it will quickly be on the floor or pushed up around your waist. 

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs) hurt you, or force you do do something that you don't want to, he may be cruel to others but he would NEVER do anything that would make you uncomfortable or unwanted pain. He respects all of your boundaries and will do what brings you pleasure not pain.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc) most of the time- he loves receiving just telling you to “Kneel” and watching you instantly dropping to your knees infront of him looking up at him your eyes showing nothing but submission. But dont think he wont give any back- this man isnt said to have a silver tongue for no reason he is SKILLED and has you all mapped out he knows how to have you quivering in no time. 

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Depends on his mood but most of the time it will start off very sensual slowly pulling you apart piece by piece but as the night continues he picks up speed wanting to reach his own end 

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.) ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME. It is a regular thing to fit a quickie in the day he just likes the rush. 

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.) Its loki- so much on the phone with an important call- he decided he wanted to go down on you- out for dinner with friends- he is playing with you under the table- again he is the god of mischief it is in his nature  

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…) Too long- so so long aside from being a trained warrior and god- he is determined and will keep going until you are overstimulated and about to pass out.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) he will definitely have a few vibes here and there but he likes doing it himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) he is such a tease it isnt even funny- its just so much in the morning he would get you all the way to the brink and then stop- and leave for the day, its just rude how much he teases

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make) he isnt “LOUD” but he isnt silent, most of the time he is groaning praises in your ear his voice deep and gravelly telling you how good you feel how perfect you feel around him.  

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice) he fucks you with the horns on- on the throne of asgard. You can’t tell me anything else. That is all

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words) He is longer than he is thick a good 7-8 in slender and perfect in every way

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?) pretty fucking high- like it doesnt take much for him to want some action so sex is a regular thing in the relationship.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) he will wait for you to fall asleep wanting to watch as you drift off and just take in your beauty once more before joining you in rest. 

Taglist: @parzival3 @oliviafaith