#thirst trap alert | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moni-logues · 9 months

Text

Morning

Pairing: Yoongi x f. reader (Kintsugi couple!)

Genre: pwp/smut, established relationship

Summary: Yoongi's favourite way of starting the day

Warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), it's first thing in the morning, there are two orgasms

Word count: 1.2k

A/N: me: i'm so glad to be able to focus on writing for other chracters! I'm taking a break from teh Kintsugi couple! Also me: finishes the series and immediately writes another thousand words for them. 🤡🤡🤡 you really don't have to have read Kintsugi for this, at all, because it is literally pwp but if you HAVE read it, y'know, enjoy this snippet of their relationship (about a year in, fwiw).

***

You woke to Yoongi’s hand cupping your breast, his body pressed against you. You hummed.

“Is that for you or for me?” you mumbled with your face smushed into the pillow, eyes still closed.

“Me,” came the answer, more alert than yours, more awake. It was followed by a kiss to the back of your jaw, below your ear, in exactly the spot that always made you shiver. This morning was no exception.

You hummed again, unconvinced. Especially when he kissed your neck and brushed over your nipple with his fingers – far too deliberate a gesture to have been accidental.

“Baby,” you said, trying to make it sound like a warning, succeeding in only making it sound moaned.

Yoongi hummed, a little buzz against your skin that made the hair of the back of your neck stand up. He continued to play with your tits, gently, teasing, squeezing just enough to get the smallest noise from you (involuntary, accidental, just like the way your thighs squeezed together and your stomach dropped).

“If you keep that up, you know you’re going to have to fuck me.”

You felt Yoongi’s lips stretch into a smile as he chuckled.

“Is that a promise?”

You rolled onto your back to face him and he was grinning at you, not the slightest hint of remorse on his face for waking you up with his dick hard and pressed between you.

“You’re incorrigible,” you told him, nevertheless rewarding his behaviour with a kiss.

“You love me,” he returned and you couldn’t deny it.

You let him snake his tongue into your mouth and move his hands down your side until he was pulling at you, twisting you so your bodies pressed together, chest to chest, and you hooked a leg over his hip. It was accidental, too, when your hips tipped, rolling against his clothed cock. At least it was accidental at first, but then you were chasing it, tugging at his hair and sucking at his tongue, swallowing his groans as he moved his kisses down your neck, as he sucked your nipple into his mouth and bit down gently around it. He pushed you onto your back again and continued south down your sleep-warmed skin, so hot that the wet trail of his tongue almost steamed.

He didn’t bother pulling your underwear down, just pressed his mouth against it so it was wet from both inside and out. He liked working you over like this, like a taster, a preview, the cotton gusset of your underwear a barrier to sensation, so that he could take them off and do it all over again.

He didn’t even touch you, kept his hands on your thighs, his fingers gripping tight while you ached with a sharp, tight emptiness, squeezing nothing, soaking through your underwear.

Yoongi ran his tongue over it, sucked at it, moaned at the taste of you. He felt a boiling in his abdomen that screamed at him to undress you fully, properly, to lick through your folds and tongue-fuck you until you soaked his face. He knew, though, that what he wanted was too much for you, that he could spend an hour with his head between your thighs but you couldn’t. So he did this. He made you squirm and squeal and come with a safety net, with his hands gripping you tight enough to cramp so that he wouldn’t move them, with his mouth watering, sucking at the cotton trap like he was dying of thirst.

And then when you sighed and your hands released the sheets from tightly-clenched fists and your gasping breaths got deep and heavy, he peeled your underwear down your legs and took a second to palm over his own wet boxers, his cock hard and leaking and just as desperate for you as his mouth.

You had never liked overstimulation. You were sensitive enough as it was and you just couldn’t take it, but Yoongi’s tongue was so soft against you that you almost couldn’t feel it there at all. He was so slow and so gentle with you, turning you on over a gentle simmer, lapping at you carefully, considerate, using all his patience to delay the gratification of the moment when he got to suffocate in you, drown in your juices, and feel your thighs clamp together over his ears so that he could hear nothing but the boom of his heart and roaring of his blood.

You could die from this – you thought it every single time. Your blood was at a rolling boil, steam rising from your body like an actual animal in heat, your pleasure shimmering at the surface like sunlight sparkling on a deep, dark pool. You could never tell the exact moment it began to climb; the flames licking up around you started to burn and sizzle, but you were already so hot, you didn’t notice until you were on fire. Then it was just white-hot pleasure. It was just Yoongi’s mouth, not so gentle anymore, his face pressed into the apex of your thighs, his face smeared and sticky, the groans he couldn’t keep to himself reverberating a tantalising buzz across your cunt.

Then he finally moved his hands, first pushing your thighs even further apart, then pushing inside you, not just one and not just two but three fingers, for the fullness and the stretch that made you arch your back off the mattress, that made you cry out as he pressed those three fingers hard against your front wall, as he sealed his lips tight around your clit, and as he made you see god for the thousandth time.

You’d never exactly been quiet, but you’d never been loud either. Before Yoongi. You made the effort, at first, to make more noise, because you wanted him to know what he was doing to you, wanted him to know that every whimper, whine, and moan was just for him; you used to drag his name from the depths of your chest as you came, claiming him as yours, letting him know. He didn’t need the reassurance – that you quickly learnt – but you did it anyway and then he started to respond in kind and the noises he made were nothing short of exquisite so you kept it up.

And now you barely noticed the noises you were making, could hardly hear them over the hammering of your heart in your chest. You heard them only distantly, muted, like from another room or another realm, one in which you still had control of yourself, in which you weren’t writhing and keening and climbing up the bed as lights popped in front of your eyes. You came with your feet planted, lifting your entire body up and Yoongi followed, sucking and pressing and drooling until you closed your legs around him, felt his ears against your thighs, and flopped back, dizzy and lead-limbed.

“Baby,” you gasped, twitching your fingers (the only part of your body you could move), encouraging Yoongi back up the bed, back to your mouth so you could kiss him.

“Morning.”

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts x reader #bts fanfic #yoongi fanfic

382 notes · View notes

thewickedjazzy · 1 month

Text

⌞𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰⌝

Part I : 𝙒𝙞𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙙 𝙉𝙖𝙧𝙘𝙞𝙨𝙨𝙪𝙨

Pairings: Chuuya x mafia boss fem!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mention of death, mention of other dimensions (could trigger derealization), please let me know if I forgot any Xx.

Author's note: Hey fellas!! Hope you enjoy my story ahead. Note: It consists of 3 parts. I've been toying with the idea of this story for a while now and honestly I am very satisfied with how it turned out!!

P.s: it's written in a 3rd person perspective.

Word count: 5.7k

In the deepest recesses of the human heart, there exists a haunting paradox: the insatiable thirst for power clashes with the equally profound yearning for connection. These two opposing forces, entwined yet in constant conflict, shaped the existence of a mafia boss who ruled Yokohama's shadowed underworld. Her life was a testament to this struggle—a legacy of power forged in the crucible of blood and betrayal, passed down as both a gift and a curse. Power was her birthright, a mantle she wore with unyielding resolve, yet its weight was a burden she bore in solitude, isolated by the very force that defined her.

At her side, Chuuya Nakahara stood as her most loyal confidant, a kindred spirit shaped by his own battles and scars. In the murky depths of their world, where loyalty was a currency as rare as it was valuable, their bond was forged in the fires of mutual understanding. Yet even with Chuuya's unwavering support, she knew that true power came at a steep price—a cost paid in loneliness and the silent suffering that accompanied her every decision. The shadow of her legacy loomed large, casting its darkness over every connection she sought to make until all that remained was the cold, unyielding pursuit of control.

Chuuya understood this truth with a clarity that bordered on despair. His unwavering loyalty was not merely a matter of duty; it was rooted in a deep, unspoken love that lay buried within the shadows of his heart. This love, a secret he guarded fiercely, was both his greatest strength and his inevitable downfall—a double-edged sword that he could never wield openly.

She, the one who controlled the very fabric of the underworld with her formidable ability, the "Malevolent Marionette," held the power to command not just armies, but the delicate balance between life and death itself. With a mere thought, she could pull the strings of fate, bending the wills of others to her own, yet this power, so absolute in its reach, left her isolated in a world where love was both a weakness and a danger. Chuuya, in his silence, bore witness to her lonely reign, knowing that his love for her could never be spoken, for to do so would unravel the delicate threads that bound their lives together.

In the dimly lit office of the mafia headquarters, the mafia boss was going through some paperwork as usual, on the top floor of the headquarters, her gaze fixed on the writings and patterns of the file she was holding, broke the silence first.

"Chuuya..." she said softly, her voice carrying a weight of unvoiced thoughts, "Do you ever wonder if the price we pay for control is worth it?"

Chuuya, leaning against the edge of the desk, met her eyes with a mixture of solemnity and affection. "Every day," he replied, his voice low but steady.

"But even in this world of shadows, it's your strength that keeps us going. Without it, we'd all be lost."

A fleeting smile touched her lips, but it was a rare moment of vulnerability.

"And yet, even with all the power we wield, it feels as though we’re trapped in a cage of our own making," she murmured.

Their conversation, delicate and laden with the gravity of their shared existence, was abruptly interrupted by a piercing alarm that sliced through the air like a knife. The blaring sound was a sharp reminder of the perpetual danger they faced.

“Alert: Intruder detected,” the automated voice declared with relentless efficiency.

"Ugh, give me a break," the mafia boss muttered, rolling her eyes as the alarm blared incessantly through the headquarters.

The shrill sound grated on her nerves, but it was more of an annoyance than a cause for concern.

She leaned back in her chair, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the armrest as she considered the situation.

Chuuya, already halfway to the door, paused and glanced back at her.

"You really think they’ll get anywhere near us?"

She gave a small, dismissive shake of her head. "They won’t make it past the third floor, let alone reach us up here. But it’s still a nuisance."

Chuuya smirked, his confidence in her words evident.

"I'll handle it quickly, then."

With that, he turned and strode out of the room, the door closing softly behind him. Left alone, the boss exhaled, her eyes drifting to the window where the city sprawled beneath her like a living, breathing entity.

The layers of protection she had built around herself—both physical and emotional—were nearly impenetrable. No one had ever made it to the top floor, where she and Chuuya resided. And no one ever would.

She pushed herself up from the chair, moving to a hidden compartment in the wall.

She pressed a button, and the hidden compartment slid open with a soft hiss, revealing a sleek monitor embedded within.

As she activated the screen, a grid of camera feeds flickered to life, offering her a bird’s-eye view of the entire headquarters. She wasn’t one to micromanage her subordinates—she trusted them, especially Chuuya—but the instinct to keep an eye on things, especially when it involved him, was something she couldn’t quite shake.

Her eyes scanned the feeds, taking in the chaotic scenes unfolding below. The intruders, a small but highly trained group, had made it farther than most. The lower floors were a warzone, with her men locked in fierce combat, but it was clear that they were holding their ground. For now.

She switched to the third-floor feed, her gaze sharpening as she saw Chuuya enter the fray. He moved with lethal precision, a blur of motion as he tore through the intruders with the ease of someone born to fight not using his gravity manipulation ability just yet.

Despite her earlier confidence, a sliver of unease crept into her mind as she watched him. These intruders were no amateurs; they were too coordinated, too familiar with the layout of the headquarters. Her finger hovered over the intercom button, but she hesitated. Chuuya didn’t need her guidance—he was more than capable of handling the situation. Yet, the feeling persisted, gnawing at her as she watched him confront a particularly skilled opponent, their clash sending shockwaves through the walls.

Suddenly, something on one of the other camera feeds caught her attention. A figure, moving with uncanny stealth, had bypassed the bulk of the defenses and was making their way up the emergency stairwell—a route rarely used and known only to a select few. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized the intruder was heading straight for the top floor.

“Damn it,” she muttered under her breath, quickly switching the camera view to track the figure’s progress. Whoever this was, they were dangerous—calculated, and possibly someone with inside knowledge.

Without wasting another second, she hit the intercom button, her voice steady but urgent.

"Chuuya, we’ve got a problem. There’s someone headed for the top floor, and they’re taking the emergency stairs."

Chuuya’s voice crackled through the speaker, laced with irritation.

"You sure it’s not just another grunt?"

"No," she replied, her tone leaving no room for doubt.

"This one’s different. They know exactly where they’re going."

There was a brief pause on the other end, then a sharp intake of breath.

"I’m on my way. Don’t do anything reckless."

She smirked at his concern but didn’t argue. "Hurry," was all she said before ending the call.

Her smirk faded as she watched the intruder move with calculated precision through the stairwell, each step deliberate and unhurried. Whoever this was, they were no ordinary assassin. They were heading straight for her, bypassing the usual layers of defense as if they knew exactly where to find her.

Her fingers itched to grab her weapon, but something told her this encounter would require more than brute force.

She had an ability—one she rarely used, because it was as dangerous as it was powerful. But this was different. This intruder was different.

She closed the compartment and stepped away from the monitor, moving to sit on a nearby desk near the door, her senses on high alert.

Every second stretched into an eternity as she waited, listening for the faintest sound of approaching footsteps. Then, just as she had predicted, they stopped right outside her door.

The handle turned slowly, and she felt her heartbeat quicken, her muscles tensing in anticipation. The door opened with an almost deliberate slowness, and the intruder stepped inside—a tall figure cloaked in black, their face hidden beneath a dark hood. They paused, surveying the room as if searching for something, before their gaze finally settled on her and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. But instead of striking, the figure remained still, as if weighing their options.

She didn’t wait for them to speak. “You’ve got five seconds to tell me why you’re here before I kill you,” she said, her voice sharp and commanding, yet calm, with an underlying edge that promised she would follow through.

The intruder lifted their hands slightly, a gesture of surrender, though there was a calculated caution in the movement. “I’m not here to fight,” they said, their voice muffled by the hood. “I’m here to deliver a message.”

She narrowed her eyes, distrust gnawing at her. “A message?” she echoed. “From who?”

The intruder took a cautious step forward, reaching into their coat. She tensed, ready to strike, but they slowly pulled out a small, sealed envelope instead of a weapon. They held it out to her, and she got up from the desk as she eyed it warily before snatching it from their hand, tearing it open with a swift, practised motion.

Inside was a single sheet of paper, the handwriting elegant but unfamiliar. Her eyes scanned the words quickly, her breath catching as she read the message. It was simple, yet devastating:

" 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳. 𝘚𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘶𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘶𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯. 𝘐𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘬 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯, 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦—𝘢𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘦. 𝘙𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴—𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘢𝘺, 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘢𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘵𝘴. 𝘐 𝘢𝘸𝘢𝘪𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘪𝘤𝘦. "

At the bottom of the note was a name—one that sent a cold chill down her spine. Her stepfather. The man who had been a shadowy figure in her life, part of a past she had tried to bury. But he wasn’t buried—he was back, and he had her sister.

The intruder watched her carefully, reading the shift in her expression. “He told me to give you that,” they said, their voice low. “And to tell you that this is just the beginning. If you don’t do as he says… your sister will suffer.”

Her hands tightened around the paper, crumpling it slightly as she fought to keep her emotions in check. She couldn’t let the intruder see how deeply this cut, couldn’t afford to show any weakness.

“Why should I believe you?” she asked, her tone cold. “How do I know this isn’t some trick?”

“You don’t,” the intruder replied, their voice devoid of emotion. “But you know who he is. You know what he’s capable of. And you know he’s not bluffing.”

She hated how true those words were. She looked at the intruder, her eyes narrowing in calculation. “What’s your role in this?” she demanded. “Why are you helping him?”

The intruder hesitated, then finally pulled back the hood, revealing a face lined with weariness and resolve. “I’m just a messenger. But I know what he wants. He’s not just after you—he’s after Chuuya.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Chuuya? What does he want with him?”

The intruder shook their head. “That’s all I know. My job was to deliver the message and make sure you understood the stakes. What you do next is up to you.”

She stared at the intruder for a long moment, her mind racing. This was no ordinary threat. It was personal, and it was a game she would have to play carefully. Her sister’s life was on the line, and now, Chuuya’s safety was in jeopardy as well.

Finally, she stepped back, allowing the intruder to leave. “Get out before Chuuya gets here” she ordered, her voice icy. “And tell your boss that if he harms her, I’ll burn his entire world to the ground.”

The intruder hesitated, their eyes flicking towards the door as if they were weighing their options. But the cold determination in her voice left no room for argument. With a slight nod, they pulled the hood back over their head, turning to leave the room as quietly as they had entered. The door clicked shut behind them, leaving her alone once more.

As the silence settled back into the room, she let out a slow breath, the weight of the situation pressing down on her. Her sister—her only remaining family—was in the hands of a man she had long thought buried in her past. A man whose very existence she had tried to forget, yet he had resurfaced like a ghost from a nightmare, bringing with him a threat that was as personal as it was terrifying.

After a few seconds the door opened once again as Chuuya stepped into the room, his presence like a force of nature that filled the space. His eyes immediately went to her, scanning her for any sign of hurt.

“What the hell just happened?” Chuuya’s tone was sharp, cutting through the tension that still hung in the air.

She turned to face him, her expression carefully composed, though the turmoil inside her was anything but. “It’s handled,” she replied, her voice calm and controlled, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within her. “The intruder was just a messenger.”

Chuuya’s eyes narrowed. He knew her too well to be fooled by her calm exterior. “And what was the message?” he asked, his voice laced with suspicion. He took a step closer, his gaze locked onto hers, searching for the truth she was trying to hide.

For a moment, she hesitated. The urge to tell him everything—to let him in on the danger that now threatened them both—was strong. But she couldn’t. Chuuya was too important, too precious to her, to risk him being dragged into this mess. Her stepfather was a dangerous man, someone who thrived on manipulation and deceit. If Chuuya knew he was a target, he would rush headlong into the fray, putting himself at risk for her sake. She couldn’t allow that.

She forced a small smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “It’s nothing we can’t handle,” she said, trying to sound reassuring. “Just someone trying to stir up trouble. But I’ll take care of it.”

Chuuya’s frown deepened. “Don’t give me that crap,” he snapped, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “You’re not telling me something. What’s going on?”

She exhaled slowly, knowing she had to give him something to keep him from pressing further. “It’s about my sister,” she admitted, her voice softening. “She’s been taken, and they want me to come for her. Alone.”

The truth in her words wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole story either. Chuuya’s expression shifted from suspicion to anger, his fists clenching at his sides. “Taken? By who?” His voice was low, dangerous, the fury in his eyes barely contained.

“A man from my past,” she said vaguely, refusing to give him the details that would send him charging into danger. “Someone I thought I’d left behind. But he’s come back, and he’s using her to get to me.”

Chuuya’s jaw tightened, his eyes burning with determination. “Then we’ll find him,” he growled. “We’ll get her back, and we’ll make him pay for this."

She shook her head, placing a hand on his arm to stop him. “No, Chuuya. This is something I have to handle alone. It’s too dangerous, and I can’t let you get involved.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “Like hell I’m staying out of this. You’re not facing this bastard by yourself.”

Her grip on his arm tightened, her voice firm. “You have to trust me, Chuuya. I need you to stay close, but out of sight. Let me deal with him. I promise, I’ll bring her back.”

He stared at her, his expression a mix of frustration and concern. He wanted to argue, to demand that she let him fight by her side, but something in her eyes—something resolute and unyielding—stopped him. With a frustrated sigh, he finally nodded, though his reluctance was clear.

“Fine,” he agreed, his voice begrudging. “But I’m not letting you out of my sight. The moment I think you’re in danger, I’m coming in, whether you like it or not.”

She allowed herself a small, genuine smile this time, grateful for his stubborn loyalty. “I wouldn’t expect anything less,” she replied, her voice softening.

Chuuya’s anger seemed to dissipate slightly, replaced by a deep, unspoken concern. He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto hers. “Just promise me you’ll be careful,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “I can’t lose you.”

Her heart tightened at his words, and she nodded, her voice barely above a whisper. “I promise.”

For a moment, they stood there, the weight of unspoken emotions hanging between them. She wanted to reach out, to tell him how much his presence meant to her, how much she relied on him, how much she cared about him not because of his ability but rather because of who he is. But there were too many walls between them, too much left unsaid. So instead, she simply held his gaze, letting the silence speak for them both.

The distance between them felt palpable, an invisible barrier made up of all the things they hadn’t yet confessed, of all the emotions they kept locked away for the sake of their precarious world.

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before finally placing a hand on her shoulder. The touch was light, almost tentative, as if he was afraid to overstep the boundaries they’d both carefully constructed. “You know,” he began, his voice softer than she’d ever heard it, “you don’t always have to carry everything on your own. I’m here, not just as your right hand, but… for whatever you need.”

His words hung in the air between them, laced with meaning that went beyond the professional bond they shared. She looked up at him, her breath catching slightly at the sincerity in his eyes. It would be so easy to lean into that touch, to allow herself the comfort of his presence, but the walls she had built around her heart held firm. She had spent so long keeping everyone at a distance, even him, that it felt impossible to let go now.

“Chuuya…” she started, her voice wavering, “you don’t understand how much this means to me. But it’s precisely because I care about you that I can’t afford to let you in too close. The world we inhabit is fraught with dangers—dangers that neither of us can escape unscathed.”

His hand moved from her shoulder to take hers gently, the gesture tender yet firm, as though he was determined to bridge the distance between them, however insurmountable it seemed. “Do you think I’m blind to that?” he replied, a trace of frustration colouring his words, though it was softened by a plea—one that echoed the vulnerability he rarely allowed himself to show. “We’ve faced every challenge together until now. I’m not asking you to tear down all your defenses—just to let me in, if only a little. We are stronger when we stand together, aren’t we?”

She turned away slightly, her gaze drifting toward the window where the city sprawled beneath them, a living testament to the power and control she wielded. But even as she looked out over the empire she had built, there was an emptiness, a hollow ache that power could not fill. She had sacrificed so much to be where she was—her freedom, her innocence, her very humanity. And yet, here was Chuuya, offering her something she had long forgotten how to grasp: connection.

"Chuuya," she said, her voice barely audible, as if she were speaking more to herself than to him. "In our world, everything is a transaction. Loyalty, trust, and even love—they all come at a price. I’ve always believed that the cost was too high. That to let anyone in was to invite ruin."

He didn’t respond immediately, allowing the silence to stretch between them, heavy with the weight of their shared history. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet, almost contemplative. "Maybe that’s true," he admitted, "but maybe the price of keeping everyone out is even higher. We think we’re protecting ourselves by building these walls by staying distant, but all we’re doing is trapping ourselves in a cage of our own making as you always refer to it."

She smiles and nods. He was right... of course, he was right, yet she couldn't help but stay in that cage.

The night draped over Yokohama like a shroud, its darkness suffused with the ominous weight of impending tragedy. The air was thick with the scent of rain and the distant echo of sirens—harbingers of chaos that had become all too familiar. In the heart of this city, where shadows wove their own intricate dance, a final confrontation was brewing.

She had indeed managed to save her sister, wresting her from the clutches of the man who had once been a silent specter in her past. Her stepfather—whose dark presence had loomed over her life like a persistent nightmare—stood before her now, his power radiating like a malignant force that threatened to engulf everything she held dear. His ability to subsume other powers was a fearsome weapon, a black hole of dominion that threatened to consume all in its path.

The battle that ensued was a tempest of ferocity and desperation. She fought with the strength of a woman who had everything to lose, her every move fueled by a fierce, protective love for her sister. But as the confrontation dragged on, it became clear that her stepfather's power was overwhelming—an abyss that threatened to swallow her whole.

In a final, desperate bid to secure her sister’s safety, she made the agonizing decision to invoke the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability. The room was filled with a sombre silence as she whispered the usual incantation, her voice trembling with the weight of her resolve.

The master puppet, an intricate symbol of her ability, materialized in the center of the room—a dark, foreboding figure that seemed to pulse with an ancient, dangerous energy.

Her connection to the puppet was immediate and intense. The energy surging through her was both exhilarating and terrifying. The puppet’s power was immense, a dark purple tide that surged through her veins, promising the ability to reshape the world itself if she so wished. But the cost was steep—five minutes of devastation, followed by her own inevitable demise if the puppet was not destroyed.

The minutes ticked by like a slow, relentless drumbeat, each second a harbinger of doom. She fought valiantly, her power a raging inferno that lashed out at her stepfather, but he remained an insurmountable force, his power too great to be overcome. Her breath came in ragged gasps, each exhalation a reminder of the ticking clock that governed her fate.

Chuuya stood at the edge of the shadows, his heart pounding with a frantic rhythm that mirrored the chaotic storm raging within him. He had been waiting for what felt like an eternity, his every muscle tense with a blend of fear and frustration. The stakes had been too high, and he knew that his absence, though well-intentioned, was a gamble with dire consequences. The reality of their world was unforgiving, and he could sense the weight of his decisions settling heavily upon him.

As he watched the building, a sudden flicker of purple neon light cut through the darkness, casting an eerie glow over the structure. The light pulsed rhythmically, a harbinger of something both powerful and dangerous. His blood ran cold as he realized the significance of the display. It was a sign—a signal that she had invoked the full potential of her "Malevolent Marionette" ability —the very ability they had always relied on him to control, to destroy.

The realization hit him like a punch to the gut, and his heart raced with a desperate urgency.

The purple lights, casting long, twisted shadows, illuminated the building’s facade like a harbinger of doom. Chuuya could see from afar her silhouette, framed against the intense glow. Her movements were determined, each gesture a testament to the raw, untamed power she wielded.

Without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted toward the building, his every step fueled by a mixture of fear and determination. The forest trees blurred past him as he raced towards the source of the light, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. Each heartbeat seemed to echo with the dread of what he might find.

The building loomed ahead, its once-sturdy facade now a chaotic wreckage. Debris littered the ground, and the air was thick with the acrid scent of smoke and destruction. Chuuya burst through the entrance, his senses assaulted by the aftermath of the battle. The interior was a scene of devastation, the walls scorched and twisted from the unleashed power.He pushed forward, navigating through the wreckage with a sense of grim determination. His eyes scanned the ruinous landscape, searching for any sign of her. The purple neon light was now fading, its power waning as the last vestiges of the ritual played out. His heart sank as he approached the center of the chaos, where the battle had reached its climax.

There, amidst the debris and ruin, he found her. She stood amidst the wreckage, her form silhouetted against the dying glow of the purple light. Her stepfather lay defeated at her feet, the battle won but at an unimaginable cost. Her eyes, once filled with the fierce resolve of a warrior, now bore the hollow emptiness of someone who had sacrificed everything.

Chuuya's breath caught in his throat as he approached her, his mind struggling to process the sight before him. She had succeeded in her mission, but the power of the "Malevolent Marionette" had taken its toll. The puppet, a manifestation of her ability, had exacted a price that was painfully clear. She had unleashed a force of destruction that could only be contained by her own life force, and now, as the ritual’s effects began to consume her, it was clear that the cost was far greater than he had ever imagined.

Her gaze met his, a mixture of relief and sorrow in her eyes. "Chuuya..." she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling remnants of the power that had once surged through the building. There was a finality to her tone, an acceptance of the fate that had been sealed by her own choices.

His heart ached as he moved to her side, reaching out in a futile attempt to bridge the gap that had grown between them. He had wanted to protect her, to shield her from the worst of their world, but in doing so, he had failed her in the most crucial moment. The realization hit him with a crushing weight—his absence had led to a loss he could never fully comprehend.

As she fell to the ground, her strength waning, he held her in his arms, the enormity of the situation crashing down around him. The world they had fought to protect was now a stark reminder of the cost of their choices, the price of power and love interwoven in a tapestry of tragedy. The light of the neon glow faded, leaving only the echoes of their struggle and the heavy silence of a world forever changed.

In that moment, Chuuya held her close, his tears mingling with the dust and debris that surrounded them.

“Y/N, hold on… You can do this. You’ve got to hang on... I will destroy the puppet. Where is it?” His voice was ragged, strained by the relentless tide of his grief, an anguished plea that seemed to reach out into the void.

She looked at him with eyes growing dim, her strength ebbing away like a fading tide. She reaches out, placing her hand softly on his right cheek. "It’s too late now, Chuuya," she said, her voice a fragile whisper. "Please, take care of my sister and the mafia... I leave everything to you." Her words, though soft, carried the finality of a conclusion drawn long before, as the life drained from her. Her hand hit the ground lifelessly.

" I didn't even have the chance to kiss you. To tell you how much I loved you. Don't leave me alone in this cruel world! " He buries his face into the crook of her lifeless neck sobbing and holding her close.

Chuuya's heart shattered as he clung to her, his voice breaking with anguished regret. "I didn’t even get the chance to hold you in my arms, to wake up to you by my side, to tell you how deeply I loved you. Don’t leave me... please..." His sobs wracking his body, a poignant lament for a love left unspoken and a future now lost.

"You lied to me... you promised me that you'd take care of yourself... please...Y/N..." His plea hung in the air, a raw cry against the encroaching silence of her fading life.

The love they had fought to maintain, the connection they had both yearned for—it had all came to an end. As the life drained from her, he could only hold onto the bittersweet memory of what they had shared, knowing that their story had ended in a way he could never have anticipated.

Days passed, each one marked by the hollow ache of Chuuya’s grief. The world continued its indifferent march, but for him, time seemed to stand still in the wake of her loss. He took on the mantle of the mafia boss, a role he had never imagined he would assume, and every decision he made was imbued with the weight of her absence. Her sister was safe, and the organization continued to function, but the emptiness within him remained a chasm that no amount of power or responsibility could fill.

Each night, the office became a sanctuary of despair. Subordinates whispered among themselves, noting the sound of Chuuya’s sobs echoing through the walls. The man who had once been a pillar of strength and resolve was now a figure haunted by his own sorrow, his once-unshakable confidence replaced by a profound and unrelenting grief. The weight of leadership was no solace, only a reminder of the price he had paid.

Every evening, after the office was empty and the city below was cloaked in darkness, Chuuya would make his way to her grave. It was a ritual born of both reverence and desperation—a desperate need to keep her memory alive, to bridge the gap between the living and the dead. There, in the quiet of the cemetery, he would sit beside her grave, speaking to her as if she could hear him.

He would recount the events of his day, the decisions he had made, the struggles he faced as the new head of the mafia. His words were a mixture of mundane details and heartfelt confessions, a dialogue with the shadows of the past.

"Today, we had another power struggle," he would say softly, his voice trembling as he knelt by her grave. "I managed to keep things under control, but it’s never the same without you. I find myself longing for your guidance, for your presence... I’m lost without you."

With each visit, his words became a testament to the depth of his love and the void she had left. The cemetery, once a place of finality, became a space where he could grapple with his grief, where the echoes of their shared past offered a semblance of comfort in the midst of his pain.

And so, Chuuya continued his vigil, bound by the promise he had made and the love that remained unspoken but ever-present. His heart, though heavy and broken, remained steadfast in its devotion to the woman who had been his greatest challenge and his deepest love.

Then came a day like no other. The world trembled as a force beyond comprehension began to assert its presence. A powerful opponent, whose ability was as arcane as it was formidable, had managed to tear through the fabric of reality itself. This adversary wielded a piece of the reality book, a relic of unimaginable power capable of opening gateways between dimensions. As the fabric of their universe rippled and shifted, a rift emerged, a slit in the world that shimmered with an eerie, otherworldly light.

Chuuya stood on the precipice of disbelief in a scattered forest, his heart pounding as the dimensions collided. The air crackled with energy, and he could feel the weight of something monumental happening. His gaze was drawn to the rift, which grew wider, revealing glimpses of another universe beyond—a place of stark contrasts and unfamiliar landscapes.

And then, through the growing breach, he saw her.

There she was, a vision that defied all logic and reason. She stood amidst the chaotic light, her form illuminated by the strange, shimmering energy of the other universe. She looked different, her appearance altered by the peculiarities of the alternate realm, yet it was unmistakably her. Her presence was a beacon in the tumultuous void, a sight that sent a shudder through Chuuya’s very soul.

For a moment, the world around him seemed to cease its relentless march. Time itself appeared to hold its breath as he gazed at her, his emotions a tempest of disbelief, hope, and an unspoken yearning. He reached out, his fingers trembling as if he could touch the fabric of reality and pull her through.

Her eyes met his, and in that fleeting, impossible moment, there was recognition—a silent communication that transcended the barriers of space and dimension. Her expression was one of both sorrow and solace, a reflection of the love and loss that had bound them together in life and now, impossibly, in death.

The sudden, disorienting realization that had hit them both was almost too much to comprehend. Standing at the edge of the rift, they locked eyes, their shared astonishment mirroring each other’s disbelief.

"Boss...?" they both said in unison, their voices echoing in the charged air of the fractured reality. The word was spoken with a mixture of reverence and confusion, as if the title held a gravity that transcended their own worlds.

A/N : Hope you enjoyed it, fellas! Let me know if I shall continue? I'm very excited to finish writing part 2!!!

➵Want more of Chuuya Nakahara ?

#chuuya x reader #chuuya angst #chuuya fluff #bsd #chuuya nakahara bungoustraydogs #bungou stray dogs #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #chuuya x y/n #chuuya x you #chuuya x fem!reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #bsd angst

76 notes · View notes

luvhhannie · 10 months

Text

yes or no | x. minghao x reader

𓇢𓆸 synopsis: where jaehyun is forced to be yn’s wingman for mingyu, but unbeknownst to him, mingyu is also getting some help from his friend.

𓇢𓆸 genre: romance, fluff, sprinkle of crack, tiny bit of angst, series

𓇢𓆸 cw: twt/text fic, smau, AOT SPOILERS, non idol au! college au! swearing, anime references, silly drug and alcohol use

𓇢𓆸 a/n: idk what to say but pls enjoy! reblogs and likes are appreciated, and so are feedbacks! <3

𓇢𓆸 taglist (open!): @writingbarnes @90s-belladonna @leewonkyeom @to-mi-yo

masterlist

00:00

00:01

12:00

1 | spidey senses

2 | thirst trap

3 | average baroque enjoyer

4 | your fault

5 | eremika exhibition?

6 | ophelia

7 | judie’s rose toy

8 | HOMOPHOBE ALERT

9 | always the artist, never the muse

10:10

10 | ladybug and chat noir

11 | blast from the past

12 | yves boyfriend girlfriend

13 | judie vs soonyoung (& jun)

14 | dancer beef over

15 | hot pot dinner

16 | deja vu in a frat party?

17 | …

#svt fic #svt angst #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen #seventeen x you #kpop fic #kpop #text fic #minghao #xu minghao #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #the8 #kpop smau #smau #svt smau

202 notes · View notes

number1mingyustan · 1 year

Note

Can I request please Father’s Day featuring Mingyu? 🥰

dad!mingyu who's so nervous on his first father's day because he still can't fathom the fact that he's a dad

dad!mingyu who realizes he loves being spoiled on father's day when you wake him up with breakfast and a blowjob and devote all your attention to him during the day

dad!mingyu who almost cries when he comes downstairs to see his infant baby girl dressed in a 'daddy's girl' t-shirt

dad!mingyu who is already plotting for father's day traditions even though it's only his first one

dad!mingyu who sits at his phone smiling at all his happy father's day texts from friends and family

dad!mingyu who also sits at his phone smiling at thirst trap edits referring to him as a dilf

dad!mingyu who spends his entire father's day being showered with love by his favorite baby girls

dad!mingyu who takes lots and lots of pictures on his first father's day

dad!mingyu who also swears your next kid will be a boy (spoiler alert: he's wrong)

dad!mingyu who sings his daughter to sleep before joining you in bed

dad!mingyu who insists on fucking another baby into you because he loves father's day so much

dad!mingyu who actually has a breeding kink and fucks you all night and refuses to let you ride him to make sure you don't waste a single drop of his cum so he can get your pregnant again

dad!mingyu who has to cover your mouth while he pounds you all night to avoid waking up your kid

dad!mingyu who still prioritizes your pleasure on his day and makes you cum until you almost pass out

dad!mingyu who loses count of how many times he's cum inside of you because he's so lost in the pleasure

dad!mingyu who can't wait until father's day next year

_______________________________________________

#seventeen smut #seventeen #mingyu smut #seventeen mingyu #seventee #seventeen drabbles #mingyu drabbles #father’s day #kpop

557 notes · View notes

eiloveir · 2 months

Text

→﹐naruto hc! <3

‹𝟹 :: ⭑⭒ 🗨 !! naruto characters and their social media habits

warnings: rushed and out-of-character

note: this is just something I decided to create on a whim, though I was inspired by a post on a clock app. i imagined how these characters might use social media, so here it is.

characters: konoha 12

𓋭 ۫ ☔️ ﹒ ❊ ͚

uzumaki naruto

this guy’s the reigning king of shitposting. he’s got a knack for calling out anything he deems “overrated,” and he doesn’t hold back. his feed is a never-ending stream of complaints about everything from minor inconveniences to full-blown disasters. you might see posts about how his ramen was too hot or things like pineapple on pizza. he’s the kind of troll who wouldn’t hesitate to pick a fight with kids on roblox, turning every argument into a battle that leaves them in tears and scrambling to save face (konohamaru). he would also be the type to start internet beefs over the most mundane things. if you’re ever scrolling through your feed and see a heated argument about why a certain trend is lame, chances are he is behind it.

haruno sakura

the feminist and activist extraordinaire! she’s the type of woman who not only supports human rights in every way possible but also cheers on the LGBTQ+ community with gusto—because, spoiler alert, she’s part of it. she’s someone who’s fully aware of the impact social media can have and is determined to use it to amplify her voice and make a real difference. i also think she has multiple social media accounts like a pro—there’s her private twitter account where she rants about how messed up the government is, her ao3 account where she writes fan fiction with a side of social commentary, and of course, her tumblr where she’s a curator of memes, political discourse, and everything in between. (me)

uchiha sasuke

god, bruh. this dude is basically a social media ghost—he hardly ever posts anything, but when he does, it’s like the internet has just won the lottery. he’s that guy who seems to do absolutely nothing yet somehow manages to grab everyone’s attention. he’s not really into posting on social media, but when he does, it’s always so aesthetically pleasing that you’d think he has a personal stylist and a professional photographer on speed dial. he doesn’t even try to make his posts look good; he just rolls out of bed and somehow manages to be effortlessly cool. man could post a picture of his breakfast and it would still get more likes than your entire feed.

nara shikamaru

this lazy ass (me) would probably end up being a streamer, posting about his win streaks and achievements in every game he plays. despite barely lifting a finger to do anything else, he’d be all over social media, bragging about every victory and high score. he’s the kind of guy who’d stream his gaming marathons from the comfort of his bed, racking up followers while casually lounging around in sweatpants. If there’s a leaderboard, you can bet he’s at the top, and he’s not shy about letting everyone know it.

yamanaka ino

girlie is the famous influencer! she’s always buzzing with posts about the latest fashion trends, beauty tips, and social events. like, you know, the kind of Instagram girlie who’s always flaunting her ootd and setting style standards. she’s practically a fashion icon with every outfit she wears. she’s also the type to post inspirational messages like “wear whatever makes you feel good” or “your body, your choice.” she’s incredibly popular across all her social media platforms and has a tiktok account—she’s all about those thirst traps and dance covers.

akimichi choji

my boi would definitely be the type to either watch mukbangs obsessively or become a mukbanger himself. he’d spend hours trying to replicate recipes he’s seen online, turning his kitchen into a culinary experiment zone. and you can bet he’d be posting all about it—sharing his attempts, successes, and occasional fails. his feed would be full of mouthwatering food shots and videos of him devouring his creations, proving that he’s just as passionate about cooking and eating as he is about sharing it with the world.

tenten

she’d regularly post about her daily life, giving followers an inside look at her studies or work. her feed would be filled with a lot of photos showcasing her favorite books, snapshots of her workout routines, and candid moments with her for lifers. she’s all about fitness, making her social media a hub for health tips and personal growth. you’d see her posting everything from meal prep ideas to gym selfies. she’d be the type to inspire others with her discipline and positivity.

rock lee

lee would be the type to flood his feed with gym and fitness content, sharing everything from his daily workout routines to personal fitness goals. his posts would be packed with enthusiasm and motivational messages, like “don’t judge a person because of their appearance” and other self-improvement quotes. despite his positive energy, not everyone’s a fan—especially naruto and kiba, who might be more inclined to roll their eyes and make a shitty rant about his optimism.

hyuga neji

this dude, much like sasuke, is totally indifferent to social media. he doesn’t bother with frequent posts but when he does, they’re thoughtful and deliberate. you might see him sharing reflections on life, articles he’s stumbled upon, or insightful news about everyday occurrences. he avoids jumping into pointless online drama or trends, yet somehow, he’s always clued in. that’s thanks to lee and tenten, who can’t stop talking about the latest gossip and social media happenings. despite his apparent disinterest, he picks up on all the chatter and remains surprisingly well-informed about the buzz. so, even though he’s a low-key user, he’s never completely out of the loop.

inuzuka kiba

his socials would be about random rants and memes. he’d post exaggerated complaints about the most trivial matters. his feed would be a fucking mess of humorous and offbeat content—think sarcastic comments, goofy polls, and plenty of memes featuring akamaru. he’d frequently stir up controversies, posting impulsively and diving headfirst into debates. his online presence would be a whirlwind of arguments, especially with naruto, where they often argue over who’s the dumbest between them.

hyuga hinata

she’s the type to be a crocheter, the kind you see on tiktok with an account just for her yarn creations. her feed would be packed with posts showcasing her latest crocheting projects—everything from cozy blankets and stylish scarves to adorable amigurumi (crocheted plush toys). she’d share detailed photos and videos of her work. her account would also feature tutorials and tips for fellow crocheters, helping them improve their skills. she might post about her extensive yarn collection, offer free patterns, and give followers a peek into her crafting process. whether she’s showing off her latest masterpiece or sharing a behind-the-scenes look at her studio, her feed would be a inspiring hub for all things crochet.

aburame shino

the random entomologist on your feed. he would be all about his shit for insects and the natural world. his posts would feature photos of various bugs, often accompanied by educational captions about their behavior, ecology, and characteristics. his feed would include updates from his fieldwork, observations on insect behavior, and informative posts about conservation efforts. while he might occasionally share glimpses of his other interests or hobbies, the focus would remain firmly on nature and entomology. whether he’s showcasing a rare beetle he’s spotted or sharing insights on preserving insect habitats, his content would be a treasure trove of knowledge for fellow nature enthusiasts.

64 notes · View notes

thatlastdanceofchances · 2 years

Note

oh interesting, thanks. i might get my march treat earlier than i thought then, nice! i am a little surprised they released ianto’s trailer (… launch date? i always forget the title) but nothing for thirst trap. i have only really just started keeping up with the audios so i’m not ‘in the know’ for how it works normally

We now have a trailer for Thirst Trap!

Or here with subtitles.

#torchwood #thirst trap #andy davidson #rhys williams #big finish #rift alert #a conversation with #anonymous

7 notes · View notes

flufffilleddonut · 6 months

Text

Angelic Retribution - Part 2

Summary - Even a whole year later, Adam hasn’t forgotten Lute’s attack on Extermination Day. Luckily for Adam, Lute gets herself in a similar situation, allowing him to carry out his revenge.

Word Count - 1100

It had been one year since Lute ‘convinced’ Adam to deal with his own issues, and the first man seemed to have gotten the message. Lute was called upon less, and given more important duties, which she was pleased about.

However, as Lute would soon learn, she wasn’t the only angel with a thirst for revenge.

Extermination Day had rolled around once again, and Lute was chasing down a sinner. She followed the demon into a rickety old building, where they had climbed the stairs up to the roof, with Lute flying close behind.

Confident she had the sinner cornered, Lute forcefully grounded herself on the roof with a thud. As she slowly approached the sinner, spear raised, she heard a creaking sound below her.

Before Lute could react, the roof gave out beneath her, causing her to fall through. She further smashed through the second-story floor before feeling herself stop in space.

Being as tough as she was, Lute was more dazed than harmed. She looked around at her surroundings in an attempt to gain her bearings.

She was dangling from the ceiling by her wrists, which were pinned on the floor of the second-story by debris from the roof. From her position, she could see the building’s front door, but could not reach the ground. She eyed her spear laying on the floor a ways away.

Lute tugged at her wrists, but they were fully pinned. She flew up through the hole and attempted to push at the debris with her helmet, but it wouldn’t budge. She let herself fall back down through the hole with a sigh. She wasn’t sure how she would get out of this.

That is, until a figure appeared in the doorway.

Lute recognized it as Adam immediately. A wave of relief washed over her.

Adam, alerted by the loud sounds, took a few steps inside before stopping in his tracks, having spotted Lute hanging from the ceiling.

He burst out laughing.

“Luhuhute?! Is that yohohou?” Adam questioned.

Lute’s feelings of relief were replaced by those of embarrassment.

“Yes, sir.” She grumbled, a light blush covering her face. “Mind giving me a hand?”

Adam slowly began approaching, still chuckling to himself.

“I thought you were better than this, Lute. Letting yourself get trapped in Hell? Not quite Lieutenant behaviour…” He commented.

Lute blushed further, starting to get annoyed.

“Need I remind you that you were in the exact same situation last extermination, sir?” Lute responded.

Adam reached Lute, standing in front of her with a smug look on his face.

“True, true. Tell me, though, what did you do when you found me?” He questioned, beginning to circle Lute.

Lute’s heart dropped. She hoped that Adam had forgotten what she had done last extermination, as, otherwise, she knew that he wouldn’t let it slide without getting his revenge.

“S-sir, we don’t have time for this. Extermination Day is almost over.” Lute said, starting to squirm.

“It’s your own fault, Lute. You shouldn’t have gotten sloppy~” Adam teased, stopping behind her.

Lute was ready to protest further, but suddenly felt fingers wiggling in her underarms.

“Ahahadam! Dohohont!” She giggled.

“Yeah, no. I need to settle the score.” Adam said, continuing his attack. “Besides, you should be thankful that I found you instead of whichever sinner you were chasing.”

Lute, knowing Adam well enough to understand that she wouldn’t be able to get him to stop, decided to focus her energy on controlling her reactions. She hoped that Adam would eventually get bored and move onto something else.

Lute managed to stifle her giggles, with only the odd sound escaping her lips. Adam noticed immediately.

“What’s this? Playing hard to get, huh Lute?” He said, stopping his hands and moving to her front. “Alright then.”

Without another word, Adam took hold of Lute’s uniform and raised it up, exposing her stomach.

Lute was confused before she saw Adam taking in a large breath. She began to panic.

“No, wait! Adam! Adam don’t you-” Lute began to plead.

“PFFFFFBT!” Adam blew a large raspberry on Lute’s stomach.

Lute shrieked and began kicking her legs.

“AHAHAHA! AHAHADAM!” She cackled.

Adam continued blowing smaller raspberries and brought his hands down to Lute’s hips, which he lightly scratched at.

“AHAHAHAHA!” Lute was in hysterics, unable to form words. Adam pulled his head back.

“Jeez Lute, you sure can take a lot.” He said, tracing light circles on her hips.

Lute took the opportunity to recover, regaining her breath through giggles.

In the corner of his eye, Adam noticed her flapping wings, reminding him of how Lute had attacked his own. His smug look returned as he began grazing his fingers over her wings.

Lute froze at the touch.

“Ahahadam, stohohop!” She giggled.

“Come on, you can handle a few more tickles, can’t you?” Adam said as he fluttered his fingers up and down the wings.

“Ahahaha! Nohohoho!” Lute laughed, softer this time. She shook her head back and forth, kicking her legs once more.

Adam continued until he noticed something outside one of the building’s windows. The exorcists were all flying into the sky, presumably into the portal to Heaven that opened when Extermination Day ended.

“Oops, looks like we’re out of time. Don’t wanna miss our ride out of here.” Adam said, pulling his hands away from Lute.

He struck a rock pose and shot a beam of ‘Holy Light’ at the ceiling, bringing Lute and the debris crashing down. Adam caught her in his arms.

“Did you just fall from Heaven, babe? Because you’re an angel.” Adam said with a wink.

Lute groaned and gave him a shove.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding.” Adam said, handing Lute her spear.

Lute took it and tried taking off, but winced, a tinge of pain going through her wings as they tried to support her weight. It seems that they had been damaged from the fall, her current exhaustion making it worse.

Lute felt Adam’s hold tighten.

“Can’t fly? That’s okay, I got you!” He said, exiting the building.

Adam took flight, heading towards the portal to Heaven with Lute in his arms.

“We’re even now, by the way. So don’t think about trying anything again, you hear?” Adam asserted.

“Yes, sir.” Lute said.

Although he could be a real jerk, Lute felt that she had a special bond with Adam. She enjoyed spending time with him, even if that time included him decimating her with tickles. He was right, she could handle it, and she knew that she could return it just as well as he could.

Not that she had to worry about it, since Adam had made things between the two even.

For now.

#hazbin hotel tickle #lee!lute #ler!adam

65 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 17 days

Text

lunch date in florence, italy :: 25 july 2024 (batch 1)

just realized that i never got around to posting these photos because busy brain went "ooh shiny" too many times in a row and completely forgot 🤡 but i'm here now and can i just say the all navy outfit with the wee woo alert was just absolutely illegal here?

sir you are out with ur lady celebrating her birthday this was supposed to be cute and wholesome not a thirst trap for us whores-- 🫠🫠

@lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @michelleleewise @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @xorpsbane @ladyofthestayingpower @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @acidcasualties @liminalpebble @alexakeyloveloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @mischief2sarawr @simplyholl @vbecker10 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @lokiprompts @give-me-a-moose @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @holymultiplefandomsbatman @wheredafandomat @caffiend-queen @km-ffluv @kikster606 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @littlelokilad @glitchquake @gigglingtiggerv2 @november-rayne @viv-annelore @five-miles-over @gruftiela @coldnique @smirkingkitten @raqnarokr @jaidenhawke @mrs-illyrian-baby @tallseaweed @chantsdemarins @cabingrlandrandomcrap @jiyascepter @cl-0-vr @foxherder ++

50 notes · View notes

juliewillruinu · 28 days

Text

Garden of Forbidden Melodies | Chapter three | Sukuna x oc

Tw: None (other than Sukuna being a whole thirst trap👅)

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ, ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ....

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒉𝒓𝒆𝒆: 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰𝒄𝒆

GHana's breath came in ragged gasps as she ran, the cold mountain air cutting into her lungs. The weight of the biwa in her hands was unbearable, a constant reminder of the monstrous power she had barely managed to contain. Her heart pounded not just from the exertion but from the lingering fear that at any moment, Sukuna could break free and lay waste to everything she held dear.

The forest was dark, the only light coming from the thin sliver of the moon that barely peeked through the dense canopy above. Every shadow seemed to shift and writhe, every sound magnified in the oppressive silence of the night. The path up the mountain, familiar as it was, felt more treacherous than ever. But Hana couldn't afford to stop, couldn't afford to let her fear slow her down. She had to reach her brother.

As she pushed through the dense underbrush, branches clawing at her clothing, a sudden chill swept through the air, unnatural and biting. Hana slowed her pace, her senses on high alert. The cold wasn't just the mountain wind-it was something else, something foreign. Her grip tightened on the biwa, the cursed energy within it pulsing with a strange rhythm, as if it, too, sensed the presence of something... or someone.

A soft, almost inaudible sound reached her ears-a rustle, a whisper of movement that seemed to come from all around her. Hana stopped, her breath hitching in her throat as she strained to hear. The forest was still, but the cold was deepening, seeping into her bones, turning her blood to ice.

Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged.

Hana's heart leaped into her throat as she took in sight before her. A person, tall and slender, cloaked in a flowing robe of deep, icy blue that blended almost seamlessly with the darkness. Their skin was pale, almost translucent in the dim light, and their long, white hair framed a face that was sharp, elegant, and utterly devoid of warmth. But it was their eyes that sent a shiver down Hana's spine-cold, emotionless, and a shade of blue so deep it was almost black.

The figure regarded Hana with an expression of mild curiosity as if she were a puzzle to be solved. They stepped closer, and Hana instinctively took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest.

"You've got something that doesn't belong to you," the figure said, their voice soft, almost gentle, but carrying an undeniable edge of danger. "You've got Sukuna-sama."

Hana's breath caught in her throat. She knew who this was-Uraume, the mysterious attendant and confidant to Sukuna, known for their icy demeanor and lethal precision. The stories Hana had heard painted Uraume as an enigma, a force to be reckoned with, always by Sukuna's side, bound to him by loyalty and something darker.

"I don't want any trouble," Hana stammered, her voice trembling as she tried to keep the fear out of her tone. "I just want to protect my village."

Uraume's lips curled into a faint, almost imperceptible smile, but there was no warmth in it. "I'm afraid that's not possible. Sukuna-sama doesn't take kindly to being imprisoned, especially by someone as insignificant as you."

The words stung, but Hana held her ground, even as her knees threatened to give way beneath her. "I did what I had to. I won't let him destroy everything."

Uraume tilted their head as if considering Hana's words. "You're brave," they said softly, almost as if they were complimenting her. "But bravery won't save you from what's coming. Hand over the biwa, and I might let you live."

Hana's grip tightened on the instrument. She knew she was no match for Uraume-she could feel their cursed energy radiating like a frozen wind, sharp and lethal. But if she gave up the biwa, she'd be condemning her village to certain destruction. And more than that, she'd be giving up the one thing that could contain Sukuna, even if only for a short while.

"I can't do that," Hana whispered, her voice barely audible.

Uraume's eyes narrowed, and the air grew even colder, the temperature dropping to a point where Hana's breath came out in visible puffs. "Then you leave me no choice."

In a blur of motion, Uraume closed the distance between them, their hand outstretched toward the biwa. Hana barely had time to react, her body moving on instinct as she raised the instrument to block the attack. But before Uraume's hand could make contact, a surge of energy erupted from the biwa, a blast of light and sound that sent Uraume stumbling back.

Hana's heart pounded in her chest as she realized what had happened. The biwa-its power had reacted to Uraume's cursed energy, protecting her. But Hana knew it wouldn't be enough. Uraume was too strong, too skilled. She had to get away; she had to find some way to protect her brother before it was too late.

Without a second thought, Hana turned and ran, her feet pounding against the forest floor as she sprinted up the mountain. Behind her, she could hear Uraume's soft footsteps, eerily quiet as they pursued her. The chill in the air deepened, and Hana could feel her strength waning, the cold sapping her energy with every step.

But she couldn't stop now. Not when she was so close.

Finally, she burst through the treeline and into the clearing where the small shrine stood, her brother's figure barely visible in the doorway. His eyes widened in fear as he saw her, but Hana forced a smile, trying to reassure him even as her heart raced.

"Inside," she called out, her voice trembling.

Her brother hesitated for only a moment before retreating into the shrine. Hana could feel Uraume closing in behind her, their presence like a cold shadow at her back. She stumbled toward the shrine, her hands trembling as she struggled to think, to plan.

"Hana."

Uraume's voice was closer now, and Hana whirled around to face them, her heart pounding. Uraume stood at the edge of the clearing, their expression calm, almost serene, as if they were merely waiting for Hana to accept the inevitable.

"Give me the biwa, Hana," Uraume said softly. "It's the only way to end this without bloodshed."

Hana's hands trembled as she clutched the instrument to her chest. She knew Uraume was right-there was no way she could win this fight. But she couldn't just hand over Sukuna. She couldn't just let him loose on the world without a fight.

"I won't," she whispered, her voice shaking.

Uraume's expression hardened, and the air grew colder still, frost beginning to form on the grass at their feet and began to creep towards Hana.

"Uraume." A deep voice echoed from her now glowing biwa. "Stand down."

Her biwa began to glow, and it only intensified as time passed, its energy crackling in the air as Sukuna's deep, resonant voice echoed from within. Hana's heart stopped at the sound, her breath catching in her throat as she watched Uraume, once so fearsome, now kneeling before the presence that had just manifested.

"Lord Sukuna-sama, Uraume murmured with reverence, their cold demeanor thawing as they lowered their head in submission. The oppressive chill that had blanketed the area began to dissipate, replaced by a different kind of tension-a dangerous, intoxicating energy that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the biwa

The instrument in Hana's hands vibrated violently as if the curse sealed within was straining against its confinement. She could feel Sukuna's power, raw and unfiltered, seeping into her very bones. A sudden fear gripped her, but it was too late to react in time. Before her eyes, the biwa's glow coalesced into a blinding flash of light, forcing her to shield her eyes.

When the light faded, a figure stood before her, larger than life, exuding the same aura of overwhelming dominance as when she first met him in the brothel. Ryomen Sukuna had taken form.

Hana's breath hitched as she took in his appearance. Pairs of eyes, each gleaming with malevolent intelligence, stared down at her from a face that was both beautiful and terrifying. A small mask covered the left side of his face, enhancing the sinister allure of his features. His four arms were muscular, each hand adorned with sharp, claw-like nails that looked as though they could tear through anything they touched.

Isamu, who had been watching from the doorway of the shrine, let out a terrified gasp. Sukuna's gaze flicked toward the boy, and a cruel smirk played on his lips before his attention returned to Hana.

With terrifying speed, one of Sukuna's hands shot out, gripping Hana's chin with a firm but calculated force. The warmth of his touch was in stark contrast to the cold terror that had gripped her heart. He tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

"You're trembling, Sukuna murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. "Fear, or excitement?" His gaze swept over her face, lingering on her eyes and her lips as if memorizing every detail. "You know, it's a pity to see such a pretty face hidden beneath that hat." With a swift motion, he knocked the bamboo hat off her head, sending it tumbling to the ground.

Sukuna's eyes, all four of them, roved over her, taking in the details of her figure and her clothing, now torn and dirty from the chase. His expression was one of dark fascination as if he found something about her utterly captivating.

His thumb brushed against her lower lip, lingering in a way that was both unsettling and intimate. Hana's breath caught in her throat, her mind racing as she tried to make sense of what was happening. The danger was palpable, yet there was something else in Sukuna's gaze-a flicker of curiosity, of interest that went beyond mere violence.

"You've managed to capture me, woman," Sukuna murmured, his voice low and smooth. "But it seems you didn't know what to do once you had me. I could kill you now... or," he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, "Now whatever will you do?"

Hana's heart skipped a beat, her pulse quickening. She knew she was standing on the edge of a precipice, one wrong move away from certain death. But there was something in Sukuna's tone, something that made her believe he wouldn't kill her yet, at least.

"Let go of my sister!" Isamu's voice, small but fierce, rang out as he darted forward, kicking at Sukuna's leg with all the strength he could muster. Hana's eyes widened in terror as she realized what her brother was doing.

Sukuna's gaze flicked down to the boy, and without hesitation, he released Hana and snatched Isamu up by the back of his kimono, lifting him effortlessly into the air. Isamu struggled, kicking his legs frantically, but Sukuna held him with the ease of a predator toying with its prey.

"Sukuna, please!" She yelled out in desperation. Oh, how enjoyed the way his name rolled off her tongue.

Sukuna looked at her, his eyes narrowing. The amusement that had colored his tone moments before was gone, replaced by a cold, calculating look. "This brat," he said, shaking Isamu lightly, "means something to you, doesn't he?"

Hana nodded frantically, tears welling up in her eyes. "Please, don't hurt him. I'll do anything!"

A dark smile curved Sukuna's lips as he considered her words. "Anything, you say?" His eyes bore into hers, and for a moment, Hana felt as though he could see right through her, into her very soul.

"Then you will be mine," Sukuna said, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. "My songbird, my pet. Amuse me, entertain me, and I might just let your brother live."

Hana's breath was caught in her throat, her heart beating in her ribs. The choice before her was no choice at all— her brother's life hung in the balance.

Sukuna's grip tightened slightly on Isamu, causing the boy to yelp in fear. Hana's resolve hardened, and she nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. "I'll do it, so please let him go."

"Good." Sukuna's smile widened his thumb once again tracing the line of Hana's jaw. "You made the right choice, little bird. And now," he released Isamu, letting the boy drop to the ground, where he scrambled to his sister's side, "We'll have lots of fun together."

27 notes · View notes