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couldyoustay · 2 years

Text

Drawn Together

pairing: bruce wayne x gn!reader

premise: An up and coming Gotham artist keeps running into trouble. Good thing there's vigilantes and awkward billionaires to help them out.

[a little slice of life slow burn with battinson- fluff and self indulgent soft touches abound]

warnings: very mild spoilers, some violence and cursing, attempted kidnapping and assault, blood and injury, stitches, mature themes

extras: reader is gender neutral, reader is an artist, Bruce Wayne is touch starved, Gotham has an art scene, probably ooc but i'm having fun

chapters: 5 // word count: ~24k

Read it on AO3

chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5

CHAPTER 1

Searing pain punches into your side as a thick boot slams down on you- a sharp cry escaping your lips. Your backpack full of aerosol paint cans is tossed around and strewn across the soaked alleyway, jeering voices ringing out through the rain.

Tough critics tonight. Gotta learn to work faster these days.

“We told ya before…” came a gruff voice. A hand reached down and yanked you up by the collar and you were met with a blurred face, flushed and grinning wickedly. The man grabbing you had a barbed wire tattoo across his neck and had been ‘voicing his opinion’ about your work whenever he caught you around your neighborhood.

“Now you’re gonna think twice before throwin’ more shit like that up around here, huh?” He slurred, his breath stinking of booze.

You grit your teeth, knowing you’re about to regret your venomous reply, but before you can get a word out, your captor’s eyes go wide and he crumples before you, taken down in a blur flecked with red.

You feel yourself drop suddenly, not ready to have your own footing, and a large hand cradles the back of your head before settling you to the ground.

Just as quickly as the group of men jumped you while you were absorbed in your work, they were mowed down, your eyes barely able to comprehend the dark blur that was your savior. As the stars fell from your vision, you uncurled your aching body, your head snapping up to meet eyes with him- the Batman.

He was frightening in person- too still to have taken out six men only seconds before. And those eyes. How could eyes so dark blaze like that? You felt frozen like a deer until he cut through the silence with a low rasp.

“You alright?”

His voice rippled through you and suddenly you felt hyper-aware. The rain soaking through your jacket, the grit of the pavement in your knees and cheek, the mere feet between you two that you knew he could cover before you had the chance to breathe.

Those eyes had you locked in. They glanced from you up to the wall where you had been working before you were interrupted. Dripping smears of black and yellow. It was a symbol. His symbol. The one that would light up the sky on the most suffocating, pitch-black nights. You’d watch it from the window of your apartment, eyes scouring over rooftops for a glimpse of the masked vigilante who had inspired you, and many artists like you, to start making statements around the city. You’d been pretty unlucky tonight, however. Not everyone was a fan of the Bat. But he had started to stand for something more than fear- more than a bump in the night and a shadow bad guys had to run from. Batman, this very symbol, stood for hope- and that was what you believed in.

But at this moment it was a little mortifying.

“Y-yes.” A furious blush threatened to creep up from your collar and reality slammed into you, your hands grasping to replace the contents of your bag. “Thank you,” you managed, glancing back and forth from the tall, imposing figure to the bodies on the asphalt.

A clatter on the ground made you startle, your nerves fried. You looked up to see a spray can roll toward you from the direction of the masked man in the shadows. He took one last glance at you, almost seeming to assess you, then back up to the wall. You could have sworn you saw a slight tug at the corner of his lips before he slunk into the night, a low, “Get home safe.” bidding you farewell.

The lazy drizzle of rain was turning into a pour and some of the bodies around you had started to groan so you figured you’d heed the Bat’s words. Slinging your bag over your shoulders, you raced out of the alleyway toward home, your footfalls slapping against the wet pavement in time with the thunderclaps above.

*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

SNAP!

You jumped and scoffed at yourself, dropping the broken pieces of charcoal from your clenching hands. Careless. Where’s your head today, y/n? you asked yourself. Thinking about that night again. That’s three weeks now. You sigh, placing the broken stick pieces with the others in a nearby tray.

The afternoon light from your apartment windows falls warmly on your studio-slash-living room setup and onto your large sketchpad. Charcoal had been your tool of choice for your renderings lately, and you felt it suited the Bat. Not only his signature color but rough, easily abstracted. A pitch black blur with blazing eyes.

Through your window, you could see people out and about on this uncharacteristically nice day for Gotham. And where are you? Cooped up inside and slumped over your desk shrimp-style trying to capture the likeness of a masked weirdo you’ve met once. And even the word “met” is a stretch here.

Another sigh and you attempt to blow away the dust from the broken pieces littering the space below his mask. His only visible portion of skin- a curious choice for a man of very few words. You wondered what those lips looked like from up close.

Ok. The daydreaming was starting to get out of hand. The guy could be crazy- hell, he definitely is after all the shit he pulled with that serial killer with all the riddles.

You’d watched the water come in that night, way up from your balcony as the lights started to go out. You wouldn’t call yourself a faithful person but you hoped against hope to whoever was out there that Batman was alive and fighting that night. From that point on, it was like a switch had gone on amongst the people of Gotham. They knew there was someone out there who thought they were worth protecting, worth saving. An artist like you knew where to recognize symbols of power, and you knew you had to keep the momentum going. You had to do what you could to keep hope alive.

You had to stop touching your face while you were in the middle of projects. You scolded to yourself, realizing your charcoaled hand was pressed against your face as you wandered away, lost in your thoughts.

Damnit. You needed to get out. It’s about time you stopped by the Center this week anyway. After a considerable amount of scrubbing and tossing on some clean(ish) clothes and your trusty backpack (lighter today without any aerosols), you made your way down the street toward the subway.

You surfaced from the underground a few songs later, pulling off your headphones and shoving them onto your pack as you made your way up the steps to Gotham’s Community Arts Center.

“Hey y/n!” you were greeted in the entryway by a cheerful looking woman in a daisy cardigan with color-coordinated hair beads at the check-in counter.

“Hey Dahlia,” you smile, signing in on the registry with one of those pens an enthusiastic art teacher had taped a flower to the end of. “I love the new piece,” you say, remarking at the cardigan you knew she crocheted herself.

“Ttttttthank you, darling,” she says grandly, as if she’d been waiting for the compliment all day. “Took me all week!”

“I don’t know where you find the time,” you chuckle, glancing over at the stack of forms she was compiling into her laptop as they spoke.

“I’m a multitasker!” she replied with a grin.

“Well you let me know when commissions open up again, babe,” you say, making your way further into the building.

“You get a discount since you’re special,” she called after you, laughing, probably at the thought of your usually dark-clothed self in one of her bright, whimsical pieces.

You walked through a set of doors propped open with painted rocks and into the building’s large main hall. Scores of fold out tables were covered in projects and the air was filled with a familiar buzz: people chattering, the clink of brushes in water cups, the scratch of pastels on paper, the art students scrambling to affix falling clay to a monstrosity of chicken wire in the corner. The Arts Center was always open to the public and was always housing a variety of local exhibitions.

Practically a second home to you, the Center had known its share of wear and tear over the years but you loved the old place. You loved how it brought people together to celebrate things worth living for, and fight to keep them alive. Years of painted handprints and messages and murals lined the walls, the floors and tables littered with color from years of spills and the whole place smelling like art supplies. Perfect.

You stepped carefully around a set of drying protest posters, waving to familiar faces and dashing to catch a paper-mache dragon head as a shock of bubblegum pink hair yelped from atop a nearby ladder.

“Jamie, your creature’s escaping,” you laugh, holding up the head to face them.

“Y/N!!” They scramble down and tackle you in a hug. “Thank you thank you thank youuuu!” they exclaim, taking the head from your hands. “That would have sucked so bad, I really liked how this one was turning out..”

“Well it looks awesome so far- just be careful,” you chuckle, Jamie grinning sheepishly.

“What’re you up to, we hardly see you around here lately!”

“Just gotta talk with Pete about the mural thing,” you replied. “Do you know if he’s in his office?”

“Ohh I hope you get it! And yeah, I’m pretty sure. He usually takes his lunch late.” said Jamie, already perching themself back onto the ladder.

“Thanks,” you say with a smile before heading past the artists and out another set of doors leading to a long hallway lined with pictures, cards, and all manner of posters. Many of them seemed to congregate around a particular doorway to your left- Pete’s office.

His doorway was plastered with thank you cards, many of them depicting whales- his favorite animal. One of the directors, a retired arts professor from the university, Pete had made it his life’s mission to bring art back to the community- and make some pretty epic whale sculptures. You respected the guy immensely.

You gave the door frame a few quick raps and Pete looked up at you from his computer.

“Well, y/n! Good to see you!”

“It’s good to see you too, Pete,” you said, taking a seat in one of the old chairs in front of his desk.

“What can I do for you on this fine day,” said the old man, taking off his wire-framed glasses and rubbing his tired eyes.

“I was just wondering if there were any updates on the 15th street mural.”

“Oh! Yes, indeed, they’re moving forward with it!” he said happily.

“Oh my god, really?” you smiled, taken by surprise.

“Yes, yes, it wasn’t easy- took a lot of convincing on my end, I hope you know,” he said, mocking sternness in his tone, but his cheery face gave away his true feelings.

“Thank you, Professor!” you breathed, hardly knowing what to do with the rush of happiness that was running through you. Pete shuffled through stacks of papers in trays on his desk until he found what he was looking for.

“There you are,” he said, handing you a stamped permit. “They really loved your design. I’m so excited to see it come to life.”

“Thank you!” you said, hugging the page to your chest.

“The directors and I were going to wait until the showcase this weekend to announce it, but I know you like to plan for these things,” he said kindly and you chuckled. “You know, there’s still space if you wanted to show a few pieces,” he offered.

“Ah, I haven’t done anything too noteworthy recently,” you said, internally squirming at your notepad full of Batman drawings.

“Well, I find that hard to believe,” Pete said with a smile. “Just let me know.”

You stood, reaching out to shake the old professor’s hand. “I can’t thank you enough Pete, really,” you said earnestly, placing the permit gingerly within the pages of a hardcover in your backpack.

“Anything for my former students,” Pete said and bid you farewell.

You walked back into the main hall beaming.

“I take that as a good sign?” said Jamie loudly, now on the ground surrounded by fresh newspaper and a few helpers.

“I got it!” you exclaimed, rushing over.

“The mural? No wayy!” “Heyy congrats!” said Marcus and Leah, both friends and regulars of the Center.

You were given affectionate squeezes and pats on the back, the group of you so caught up in your celebration that you almost failed to notice a hush fall over the room. All eyes were turned toward one of the large tv’s on the back wall which had been quietly playing the news. Someone had turned it up louder for the whole room to hear. You turned as the reporter said his name.

“This just in, Batman has been sighted at the scene. Breaking news, if you’re just tuning in, just minutes ago, Mayor Reál was kidnapped just outside of City Hall. The Mayor’s vehicle was hijacked by disguised usurpers. Police are en route but as you can see, the masked vigilante is hot on their tail. Speculators are wondering if this incident is in direct response to the Mayor’s pending Watchlight Bill…”

You all watched the screen in silence, mouths agape with shock that something like this could happen in broad daylight. In a moment of startling realization, you watched as the helicopter footage showed the kidnapper’s route nearing the Arts Center.

“Should we lock the doors?” someone piped up.

“But what if the mayor-” another started before voices started to raise. The Batmobile had grazed the black SUV the mayor was being held in.

Just outside, the screeching of tires and honking of horns could be heard. In a flash, people were running to the front doors, fears suddenly foolishly abandoned to catch a glimpse. And of course you were with them, your backpack thudding against you with each bounding step. You watched the doors burst open in front of you, showing a scene right out of an action movie.

Cars swerved to avoid each other as the black SUV came careening around the corner, herded by the Bat’s monstrous car. The hijacked vehicle slammed against the corner street post with a sickening crunch and completely flipped around, its tires skipping up the first few steps to the Center. The Bat reversed in a flash and slammed into the front of the SUV, trapping it between the now-leaning street post and another car.

“Everyone back inside now!!” Yelled Pete from down the hall, quickly making his way toward the group. But no one heeded his warning, eyes glued to the caped figure practically ripping the kidnappers from the car and onto the pavement.

Shots rang out and you gasped, the crowd of onlookers surrounding the scene dropping to the ground in fear. The gun had been pointed right at his chest and he’d barely flinched. You hadn’t seen much of that night after taking such a beating, but in the light of day you could see just how fast and brutal Batman worked.

Everyone pulled the Center’s doors shut and crowded the windows, Pete still admonishing us to keep our distance.

“Look!” someone shouted, pointing. There, from the backseat of the car, Batman took the hand of the mayor, looking shaken but otherwise unharmed. The onlookers who had stayed cheered at the sight of her. As police cars started to file in, so did a number of unmarked cars from the other direction. This was about to get even uglier.

“Mayor Reál!!” came a shout from the Center’s front doors. It was Dahlia, beckoning furiously for the Mayor, who upon closer inspection, appeared to be limping, Batman shielding her with his body.

As men spilled from the unmarked cars and cops took up their positions, you realized this place was about to become a shooting gallery.

You dashed from your place at the window, just beyond Pete’s grasp, and booked it outside and down the stairs, Dahlia hot in pursuit. Adrenaline pumping through you, you barely had time to register the proximity between you and the Bat- so much closer than that night before. He handed off the mayor, you and Dahlia taking places on either side of her and helping her up the stairs as quickly as possible.

Her usually imposing figure feels light under your support and you wonder at how such a person can carry the weight of this cruel city.

The pounding in your ears almost drowns out the shouting from behind you as more hijackers try and make a move. Batman makes quick work of them, his fists a deadly flurry grounded by something graceful in his footwork.

If all of these thoughts weren’t jumbling your brain into a single instinct: go forward- you might have had the good sense to duck at the masked vigilante’s shouted warnings. A strong arm yanked the hood of your jacket and you were momentarily unable to breathe before being flung back down the stairs, landing hard against the Batmobile, your breath leaving you again.

You manage to choke out a jagged, “GO!” to Dahlia when you see her hesitate for a split second. You’re grappling for your attacker’s clothes, anything to slow him down before he gets to your friends. You manage to catch his shoe, yanking him off his feet and sending him crashing onto the stairs. He yells in rage and before you can ruminate upon what a poor decision that was, you scramble through the open window of the Bat’s car.

You feel your backpack being ripped open by the zipper as the hijacker makes another grab at you through the window, his bloodied face twisted with anger before being overcome with shock- a look you’ve seen before. Right before the inevitable.

With a growl of rage, Batman rips the man from the car’s window and knocks him to the ground. You shrink back from your spot in the passenger’s seat, hearing the thick and horrible thud of fist against flesh over and over from the other side of the car door. When it stops, so have the gunshots, and everything around you feels startlingly quiet. The click from the door startles you into focus, and it slowly opens. It’s more out of breath than that night and tinged with something raw, but it’s that same low rasp.

“You alright?”

You shiver, hearing that same gentle inquiry from someone capable of such violence. Your nerves are rubbed raw again and you just want to curl up here, feeling hands upon your back and neck, phantoms pulling at you, grabbing at you.

“Hey,” came the voice again, pulling you back into focus. He’d crouched down to your level beside the car but didn’t dare come in closer. “Are you alright?” he asked again, softer.

You will yourself to breathe slowly and manage a small nod, testing yourself to move. Your body aches again, like you ran a mile, the absence of adrenaline leaving you hollow and shaken.

He looks more reassured and reaches out a hand for you. There’s something in his eyes as he looks at you, they bore into yours and it’s almost hard to look at. After a pause, you take the hand, feeling his strong grasp beneath his gloves as he pulls you from the vehicle.

The crowds’ cheering reaches your ears and you glance around at the scene, cops cuffing hijackers and putting them into vans one by one. You turn to say something but you’re crushed into a multi-pronged embrace- Dahlia and Jamie clutching you as if you would run away at any moment. They’re soon joined by Leah and Marcus and a few others and you can’t help but laugh, maybe just to distract from the tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

“Okay, I’m okay!” you insist, trying to reach out for everyone but stuck in place by your friends.

“Don’t ever do that again!!” Jamie screeches and Dahlia seconds, a chorus of admonishments and assurances echoing after.

“Your friends are right,” came a voice from up the stairs. The mayor herself, supported under one arm by a worried-looking Pete, made her way down to them and shook all of your hands, expressing her gratitude. “Really, a thank-you doesn’t cover it. You were all very brave today. But that was extremely dangerous. Next time, I need you all to think of your friends and yourselves too.”

You all nodded gravely, still grasping each other.

“And don’t you worry about me. My guardian angel’s gonna have plenty of time to get his skills in check to help me out.” Reál smirked over at Batman, who amidst all the praise from the crowd, looked stiff and out of place, especially with the last of the day’s sun shining on his usually shadowed frame. He nodded at the mayor then at your group. It could have been your imagination, but you could swear his eyes lingered on you for a split second longer than the rest before he turned and made his way over to the Commissioner, already engaging in quiet conversation.

Your gaze strayed over to him again and again as you all made statements and comforted one another. As the sun dipped below the skyscrapers and the city began submerging into shadows, they began sending everyone home, Pete insisting that we all do so safely and message at least one person that we did. You bid your friends farewell, declining insistent pleas for you to come and stay the night to just sit for a moment.

With a loud rumble, the Batmobile roared to life and shot off into the oncoming night. You stood to watch it go from your spot on the steps and felt the contents of your bag spill, having forgotten to have closed it after it was snagged. After replacing everything one by one, you notice a distinct lack of something.

No hardcover. And with it, no permit.

You scramble around on the ground, looking where you stood, by where the car was, back into the building and outside again. Maybe it had been tossed amidst the madness earlier. Maybe picked up as evidence. One thing was for sure- it wasn’t here.

“Fuck!!” you exclaimed, gritting your teeth, your eyes blurry with anguish. There goes four months rent. And Pete’s trust. And the notoriety you'd get all around town. They don’t just give these out every day! And after all Pete did to make it happen for me. You cursed and cursed yourself.

It was getting dark and you needed to head home and be somewhere that wasn’t here. What a shit way to wrap up the day. The subway jostled you all the way home as if nudging you over and over. Thought you’d be a hero like the big guy? You can’t even keep track of your own shit. Stupid, stupid.

You fumbled for your keys to the door of your building, slumping miserably up the stairs and tossing your things to the ground as soon as you made your way through your door. You crashed on your couch with a heavy sigh, switching on the lamp and messaging your friends that you’d made it home safely. You go to turn on the tv, your hand reaching for the remote, when suddenly, two hard raps hit your window. Your ears prick up, eyes darting to the dark glass.

You live on the 9th floor.

Sitting up slowly, you grab the nearest blunt object you can reach- in this case it’s a duck statue Jamie knew you’d love. You round your drawing desk and slowly reach for the curtains, steeling yourself with a breath before ripping them aside, duck brandished menacingly to find- nothing. Of course. You sigh and place the duck gently on the desk, feeling silly.

Probably just a pigeon or something, you think, when out of the corner of your eye, you spot something rectangular on the floor of the fire escape. You pop the latch and slide your window open slowly, leaning your head out tentatively. It’s a book. It’s your book. And peeking out from between the pages at the book’s center, a folded page- your eyes catch dark movement from the platform below.

“Wait!” you exclaim, clambering oh-so-gracefully out the window and onto the fire escape, grabbing the hardcover from the floor. “Thank you!” You breathe, leaning over the railing a bit too quickly- the ground, far away and swimming before you.

You can see a shadowed figure below you, paused mid-stride. He’s so still, so quiet. “Really, it…it means a lot.,” you try, willing him to stay just a moment longer. He looked ready to bolt at any minute. You watch him turn his head, the light illuminating half of his face. The proximity between you two stirred something in your chest and you searched his eyes, dark storms of gray-blue.

“It…seemed important,” Batman finally replied in a low voice.

You smile, flipping through the pages, the permit just as you’d left it. “H..how did you?” you ask slowly, the implications suddenly swirling in your mind.

“Found it in my car. Your address is on the permit,” he added quickly, clearing his throat.

“Well I..really appreciate it.” you say sincerely. “Everything,” you add, immediately regretting sounding so awkward. He shifted below, looking up to meet your eyes. You felt your breath catch in your throat.

“I’ve seen you before,” he said. “In that alley- that was you, wasn’t it?.”

Your eyes went wide and if it weren’t so dark, your reddening face would be on full display. You nod, swallowing down your nervousness. He’s just a man…you think.

“I-” you start.

“You should stay away from all this,” he cuts you off. “You could get hurt.” It wasn’t mean. But something ached in you all the same. There was something somber in his eyes that gave you pause.

“So could you,” you say. He stared up at you without a word.

You looked away, shriveling under his gaze yet again. “Thanks again,” you say quickly, giving the Bat one last glance before climbing back inside. You shut the curtains quickly and back up to the couch, sitting down hard.

Did that just happen? The thudding of your heart answered yes. God, get a grip, y/n. You repeated it over and over, your face in your hands. He was right, of course- but he was the one who helped make you brave. Thoughts swirled in your head through the rest of the night, and as you drifted off to sleep, you wondered at the sadness behind those burning eyes.

#battinson fanfiction #reader x bruce wayne #reader x battinson #reader x batman #batman fanfiction #the batman fanfiction #the batman #the batman 2022 #battinson #bruce wayne #touch starved bruce wayne #gn!reader #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #i havent written in forever so this was really fun #by brain is still full of battinson ohgod

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yandere-wishes · 4 years

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MONSTERS

👹 Yandere Ryomen Sukuna x Reader

👹Summary: Monsters aren’t born they're made, but Sukuna stumbles across the rare exception...

👹Warning: dehumanization, mention of gore, blood, slight dub-con mentioned in passing, death, past trauma, and abuse

👹 Edited: By the lovely @tealyjade-libran !

👹 Wordcount: 2,480

👹Alternative Tittle : If Roxanne ( from the Police song) lived in ancient Japan.

👹First Jujutsu kaisen fic! I hope you guys like it, please let me know your thoughts! Likes and reblogs appreciated!

Monsters were made.

Slowly created as once blazing ideals, withered and died under harsh strokes of reality. Stitched together with broken promises and the ashes of rotting memories.

Monsters were made

whisked into a role they once dreaded, once feared. Beaten into the role of the villain, the reprobate, the sinner.

If anyone ever asked Sukuna when was the exact moment he turned his back on the laws of "good" and "evil", shedding his human skin to regrow a pelt of hate and destruction,

He would simply answer, "Never".

Because skin is skin no matter how much it decays. Even if the epidermis turns into a rotting orange shade, littered with eyeballs and teeth that shouldn't grow there.Even if the blood from all those he's slain has finally stained his dermis, tainting it in a permanent crimson that all the waters of Lake Biwa could never wash off. Even if his hypodermis is no longer made of fatty tissue but rather spiritual energy sucked from the atmosphere. It's still skin, the same old skin he was born with.

Sukuna had never shed his skin, he'd only perfected it, enhanced it, molded it into its perfect form, until he was no longer held back by foolish human limitations.

He'd never been "reborn" only recreated; only perfected.

Spike, talon and teeth covered arms sprouting from oozing, bleeding scars, charred over by begriming infections that burned worse than the strikes he'd endured as a child. Knuckles and bones cracking over and over and over again until they grew as solid as the rocks that were thrown at him when he was all too little to understand the malice behind the insults and threats. Breaking until they could break no more, until they'd become strong enough to split a boulder with a mere flick.

There had come a time when he'd given up licking his wounds, leaving them to be kissed by the mold-covered worms who left an urticating sensation he'd soon come to associate with victory. Rotting flesh growing covered in thick layers of black tar tattoos that hid every cut he'd endured when he'd once been too weak.

Monsters were created from quarter truths buried neck-deep in fables that snipped like red-eyed scorpions.

Until the blood dancing through their veins was as black as the void they now called home.

Sukuna knew the exact moment he realized he was a monster. The day he realized he liked the crunch of skulls beneath his feet, the pitiful spark in mortified eyes staring at the heavens for a scrap of mercy. Mangled mouths barely held together by fractured jaw bones, uttering prayers and pleas that died in the scorching air.

Sukuna knew he was an abnormality, patched together by broken heirlooms and shattered family traditions. Sitting on a throne made from skulls of those who thought they could ever kill him.

You can't kill a monster, for you can not kill that which was never born.

You can't slay something made from good intentions with malevolent methods, something so vile that it might actually be pure. At the end of the day, no monster really admits that it is a monster, a nightmare that should have never existed.

Yet...

Tattered hearts and cruel orbs are never quite enough. No monster is complete until they dive off that last edge, plummet into the sea of nothingness, and finally, finally break their souls on the spiked soil. Monsters, spirits, curses any malicious being that had been mended together like a half-done ragdoll was not complete until they truly let go. Until they erased all the former humanity that they had been born with. Until their eyes reflected nothing, no emotions, no malice, no want, no need. Just the absolute emptiness.

The void in all its glory.

that was the symbol, the true markings of a real monstrosity. The void that took over their existence, that had replaced every inch of their former self. Only then could it be said that you were above all other beings, the true perfection of this world.

There are worse things created than monsters, things that are made from nothing and everything. Things above "Yin" and "Yang". Things that have no scrap of humanity, monstrosity, or anything in them.

Things that are just empty.

So maybe -just maybe- that's why when Sukuna's rotting orange eyes landed on the epitome of emptiness, a...girl, whose face was sculpted to disreflect emotions and intents. Someone who was the void of darkness itself. The true personification of nothingness.

His heart -for the first time in countless centuries- began to throb.

a truly dead face swarmed by a sea of buzzing ants, chasing their routine happiness. Smiles of delight and carelessness carved on their aging faces with sunlight knives and the melody of golden coins. The lust for life leaking from every pore of their bodies.

With every face being a carbon copy of each other it was no wonder yours stood out.

There was a silver chain of attraction, dragging Sukuna towards the village girl. Not love, never love, the king of curses was beyond certain, that neither you nor he could feel such a honey-laced sensation. It was more like....something. Something paranormal, inexpiable. Some magnetic force outside of everything's control.

It was easy enough to explain why he liked you. Why you stood out from the other insects of this middle-of-nowhere-village.

You had dark matter for blood and dead seas for brains.

Your eyes radiated an endless abyss. Making others shy away from your lifeless gaze. Scared to look into the void in fear that it may respond.

You were a thrown away doll,

A living dead,

A dying star,

You were the daughter of the number zero,

The monster that had no maker nor mother.

Something not born nor created.

Just an entity that roamed the earth, with no desire nor hope, no wish nor dream. Not leaving, not dying, just existing in the space between today and tomorrow.

There'd been no need for pleasantries, for hiding behind ghostly tree branches and frozen windows. There'd been no need to kill or ravage for you. No competition to eliminate, because no one ever came near you. Humans don't like what they can't explain, Sukuna knew that all too well.

Sukuna watched from a close enough distance to almost touch. Lingering around like a phantom begging to be noticed. Orbs trailing over you, but never approaching. Until one day he'd just stood still. Waited for you to turn your head just a fraction to the left, just to see him in all his menacing terror. To finally notice the clawing, crawling sensation that had been creeping up your spine like a hoard of spiders.

And when your dead eyes did finally land on him. Sukuna could swear that his breath hitched in his throat for the first time in his seemingly endless life.

You weren't human. Humans didn't have hollow faces or marbles for lips.

You weren't a curse. Curses didn't lack venom dripping from their souls.

You were something better than a monster. You were the divinity of monstrosity, the void itself. Black holes for eyes, answerless paradoxes for hands, and an endless maze where your torso should have been.

Exploding suns danced around you, burning, burning, till they died out, leaving behind no trace that they once lit up the universe.

The space after the end, that's what you were.

Perfect, to Sukuna you were perfect.

You hadn't run, hadn't screamed, hadn't even bothered to talk. You didn't care about him, couldn't care about him. That's what made him want you, made his mouth salivate with the thought of your flesh between his teeth.

That night the world stood still, as Sukuna's claws penetrated your flesh like twirling needles. You were as light as a feather. You weighed nothing, were nothing. All so easy to pluck and throw about. You never made a noise when your body collided with the bamboo walls, just letting gravity and Sukuna play a twisted ball game with your lump of a body.

You hadn't protested when he violated you. As his lips bit every inch of your body raw. For some unearthly reason that even the gods couldn't understand, would never want to understand, you had found the Curse's violent actions rather...adoring. Taking every slap and slash with the earnest pride of a small child getting praised for a day of relentless chores. letting the dawn-tinted-haired monster adorn your body in blue and purple jewels. It felt right, in a pathetically, nauseating, twisted way...it just felt right.

It was disastrous, sure, but it was right. Like two universes crashing. Destroying each other with every kiss and every bruise.

But...

For the first time in your meaningless life, you had truly understood what "happiness" felt like.

For the first time in his endless life, Sukuna had truly understood what "intimacy" felt like.

///

Was it wrong to kiss you? For a fraction of a second Sukuna hesitated, blood tinged lips hovering millimeters away from your own stone-set ones. The moon's cursed rays acting like an unnoticed barrier, keeping two things out of each other's grasp. His lips curled back revealing two rows of knife-like teeth. The last resort, a final hope that you'd run away, that you'd act somewhat normal. The king of curses, the evil among men, didn't mind your lack of regularity. He didn't mind how you leaned into every bitter strike, every painful display of fading affection . He adored how you merely giggled as he slashed open your uncharged skin, creating slits for your blood to spill through, onto his waiting tongue. He admired your lifelessness, the way you radiated death.

Oh, how you filled him with a startling aftershock every time he touched you. Every time his tongue lapped at your bleeding skin he'd feel the sort of electric shocks that came after the storms had passed. Your body had no shape, it molded to his touch, turning his favorite shades of red, with just a little pressure.

But sometimes, in fleeting, endless seconds. He wished he had a name for what you two were. You weren't his per se, you could never be his. Being his would indicate that he cared about you, or heck even loved you and that could never be true. The king of curses did not love, nor care. He merely tolerated you; you fascinated him, that's all.

It had been many moons since he first found you in that no-name village. Months upon months since you'd been by his side. You'd watched as he'd destroyed cities, helped him even. Eyes never shedding a single tear. Mouth never uttering a single protest.

The two of you had become the best, the King of curses and the Queen of nothingness. With the dying speed of laboring bees, Sukuna had carved himself inside of you. Twisted emptiness into flower-covered destruction. Into molten gold lava.

Leaving you with wounds that were stuck in a cycle of healing and opening. Until they began to harden like his. Until the need for spilled blood lingered on your tongue like the burn of boiled tea. Until under your nails were coated in a decaying crust of dried blood. Sukuna hadn't turned you into a monster, he'd simply showed you the powers that came with your apathy. With a heart as torn and cold as yours, it was a shame to let it go to waste.

"You're not half bad," his tone is never approving. It's always laced with a strictness that keeps you nailed into place. His words are oxymorons sounding like praise, but once you peel back the lather layers they're just taunts in disguise.

You don't answer, words die on your tongue as quickly as they are born. Sukuna can't even remember what your voice sounds like outside of small whispers in heat filled nights.

However, to the two of you, things like that didn't matter. Your lack of being even semi-alive and Sukuna's endless abuse had become a norm for the two of you. Where else were a two-faced monster and a lifeless girl going to find love anyway?

Sukuna was all you had, all you ever had. You'd die for him, kill for him, turn into anything for him. Because he gave you life.

A purpose to life, made out of raging fires and endless screams. A life fabricated from the pain and suffering of others. That was what the king of curses had given you, all wrapped in a human skin parchment. Maybe that's why all logic withered away the first night he kissed you, maybe from the first second that you sensed his presence you had finally gained a reason to be alive.

///

Whoever said the end of the world was beautiful? Whoever said the final days would be bright and glowing and pure?

It's just a blaze of stray flames and red crystal droplets that may or may not be your blood. Funny, Sukuna had always thought that your blood would be as black as the moonless sky, not a mundane red like everyone else's. He'd expected a grander death from you. Some sort of black hole opening to swallow the world whole. Not just another corpse motionless in a pool of their own blood.

Although he's not one to talk. His own 'death' is lingering on the horizon. Sukuna's head tilts back looking for the flashing jujutsu sorcerers.

"S-sukun-a..."

He smirks, fangs sticking out at odd angles. Your voice is sweet, for the first time in forever he'd even dare say it held some semblance of emotion.

What that emotion is, he doubts he knows or even really cares. He'd long since stopped trying to identify all those "feelings" and their associated names.

His orange eyes lock with your fading orbs, one last time. No, not the last time, just the final time in this lifetime. He's sure he's going to see you again. In any other life, Sukuna knows he'll be able to recognize you despite whatever flesh suit you'd be wearing.

"Shh little one," he's halfway gone before he finishes his sentence, leaving you to relish in his memory in your final moments. "We'll see each other once more, someday in another life..."

His four eyes lock on the approaching sorcerers. He finds it humorous how desperate they look. How alive and ready they seem, such a stark contrast to your ever lifeless face and dead eyes, it repulses him.

"Or maybe in one of the circles of hell."

The flames encircling his fingers remind him of the heat your body radiated in the dead of night. The crack from bones hum as they meet his knuckles, flash memories of your days wasted together doing nothing and everything.

The two of you will meet once more, he's sure of it. After all...

Monsters never die.

How could something that was never even born in the first place, ever die?

725 notes · View notes

oh-boy-me · 4 years

Text

Demon Outfits Discussed

The wait is over :) thank you for your patience and all the lovely comments on the casual discussion!!

I feel like it got longer this time, so I hope it’s all an enjoyable read! Also, I apologize for the ugly pictures--it was the easiest and fastest way to both have all the design in one image and also prevent it from stretching so far.

Like last time, please don’t take this too seriously; we love these boys and Justin doesn’t know them but has no grudges against them. We’re just harping on their fashion sense. Absolutely no hate is intended towards the boys or the design team!

Participants in the discussion were

Jo ( @jodaneko ), our art major with storyboarding/character design experience, who finds they have more in common with Satan each passing day.

Justin ( @justinlester0629 ), our fashion expert, who dressed up and filled a wine glass with water for the occasion.

Noodle (Me), our untrained eye who owns the Barbie as the Island Princess video game on three different platforms. It’s not even that good.

Featuring emergency guest star Megan ( @maggo77 ), my sister who is physically near me as we look at the backs of their designs for the first time.

Edit: Distracted by the pretty jacket, we made a mistake when putting in Levi’s silhouette rating. It’s the worst. 2/10, not 6.

Lucifer:

“Boy looks like he’s about to swing open the doors of an expensive mansion during a debutante party and give some SCATHING NEWS.” —Justin

“Short shoulder cape and a long split butt cape lol” —Jo

Jo has realized that based on both outfits, Lucifer doesn’t want people looking at his butt. Possible reasons are: he doesn’t have one, or Diavolo someone was getting distracted.

His shoes match his outfit. After last time that’s all I care about.

A triple popped color, and how many layers is the middle one? Is that a book? Dude has like 27 collars.

The forehead diamond is very important and it’s great that there are diamond buttons to match it. But uh. How about those red diamonds on his sleeves. They. They sure are there. (I actually like the red accents and that they match his gloves; I just can’t take the diamonds seriously.)

Lucifer 🤝 Some Horses Diamond on the Forehead

The peacock motif is HERE and we’re all living for it. HOWEVER, the feathers on the cape and coattails should have matched, OR there should have been more lime green because there’s so little of that color.

The pants have a pleat in the front, which Justin says means he responsibly irons his clothes, and Jo says only heightens the fact that under the capes this is a marching uniform.

Can he fly? Jo says these are baby wings that can’t support his weight, and his cape has a hole for the top pair but blocks the bottom pair? Can’t believe Lucifer handicapped himself for the sake of fashion.

The red makes it regal and the wide flowy design makes it imposing. Good job, Lucifer! I might actually be intimidated if I saw you.

Definitely the classiest outfit. You can tell they put care into it.

Mammon:

“BITCH MY BODY CANNOT TAKE THIS KIND OF SEXY, I THINK I AM OVERHEATING! NO MORE FURTHER COMMENTS, YOUR HONOR. HAUTE AND HOT.” —Justin

The whole thing does amazing with only three colors. We’ve noticed the trend of black and white + one color, but I mean hey. It’s working so far.

Damn those pants sit low. No wonder literally all of you wear belts.

The leather jacket? The studs and harness? Bless. Justin calls it “the perfect blend of stylish and ‘I’ll see you tonight *wink*’”.

Kind of don’t like how the belts connect to the pants, though. It looks better in the back.

“He found a really cool jacket, but it didn’t pair with anything so he just didn’t wear anything.” —Jo

Honestly though? We’ve all made fun of Mammon for having big hoe energy in his outfits, but like, he knew he had wings and planned his outfit to accommodate for that. He’s the only one who didn’t cut holes in his outfit. Maybe Mammon was the smallest hoe after all.

Also if there’s a motif it repeats elsewhere, like the studs and diamonds on his jacket and pants. Did he and Lucifer have a “tastefully putting diamonds on my outfit” battle? Because Mammon definitely won.

One of the charms broke off the belt loop and he never bothered to replace it, and honestly thank god there isn’t two of those anymore.

Torn between wishing the boots were tighter to match the rest of the outfit and saying “yoooo they’re open in the back!!!”

Ok so so far we’ve said generally only good things, but there is one major issue with the design: Its gravity. Everything points down, his tattoos, the diamonds, even his wings. The center of gravity in the image is his shoes. Bitch loved his shoes so much he made his whole outfit point to them.

Either way this was universally considered the best and I mourn Justin who doesn’t know how far Mammon’s standards are gonna fall from here.

Leviathan:

Diagonal zipper

“Levi what the fuck.” —Megan

He looks like an e-boy.

Honestly it looks like he borrowed something from Justin’s wardrobe for Pride but he didn’t know how to put it on.

APPARENTLY the biggest hoe. Abs that he shouldn’t have coming through a mesh t-shirt. I thought Mammon’s pants were low, but Levi’s whole-ass ass is out. Ok Levi, I see you.

The shirt pattern is good but he probably leaves it partially unzipped because it’d look really dumb fully closed.

Justin loves the funky pants pattern and Jo likes the pants but not with the outfit. It’s because the devs were too coward to give him a thick tail base so his pants had to fill that role by sharing the pattern.

The shoes are good, and not just because they incited Justin’s deep-set hatred for Christian Louboutin and his uncomfortable red-bottom shoes.

Justin is offended that he’s hiding his suspenders; either show them completely or not at all, no in between. Jo’s not fully convinced it isn’t just one suspender. What are his suspenders doing? What are they attached to? Are they holding anything up? Apparently not.

Jo pointed out that if you squint the belt on his waist looks like fangs and the orange dots on his sleeves looks like eyes so it’s like theres a snake head on his outfit. Cute!

The gloves are throwing us off though. Why is Levi of all other brothers need gloves? I bet he has sweaty hands.

Ok really, does his sweater unzip all the way into two pieces? Or does it hang by that tiny thread underneath the tail hole? There’s even a button, just in case.

Can’t believe this antler-sporting, suspender-wasting nerd went diagonal zipper on us because we beat him at a trivia game. Should have just zipped his hood.

Satan:

HONEY.

“I hate everything about this.” —Megan

First of all, he’s straight up wearing Lucifer’s casual shirt. Does it only button down the back? Can he take it off?

Then he spilled bleach on his pants. Like I get what they were going for but with the white on black that is literally just bleach stains.

Incredibly differing opinions on the belt. He got it in the cowboy department. Justin adores it. Jo despises it.

And are those… athletic slip ons?

And now the elephant in the room. The ribcage made of ribbons. The ribboncage. The idea is great! I love that they gave him a skeletal theme without throwing him into a Hot Topic.

But if you take the ribboncage and feather boa off he’s literally just wearing a dress shirt and some nice jeans. And that’s the problem with Satan’s demon form. Not that it looks goofy. It’s that they took risks but then hid all the risks behind business casual.

Also Megan said that the back of the ribbons look like a rock climbing harness. Someone (probably Justin) said the front reminds them of the underbelly of a green cockroach. Ew.

The feather boa would look better if it was over something you wouldn’t literally wear at the office. (And also didn’t look so much like worm on a string.)

“He is going to Dragcon 2020 and is definitely going to take a picture and ask to lip sync, but accidentally start beef with Acid Betty.” —Justin

On a good note, loving how the tail fades to highly radioactive green. Feels dangerous. Megan pointed out that it’s a pretty wimpy tail, though. Jo enjoys the self-conscious posture it expresses.

That’s basically the only good thing we have to say, though.

I just????

Merry Christmas.

Asmodeus:

The kanji on the picture is just saying that the coattail is the same on both sides.

Ok now with that out of the way, HONEY.

I’m sure he says that to others but I hope he says it to himself too when he looks in the mirror.

Starting with the good. The wings? Adorable. The heart-shaped hole to accommodate them? Adorable. One of the only good adjustments.

And I love that the tips of his horns look venomous, like a scorpion tail!

We love a good floral design and a good twin tailcoat.

But once again, the shirt just has too much going on. The flowers. The buttons. The brick-pattern stitching. The brooch. The long collar. The fact that if he closed the last button it’d end in a diamond covering his crotch. Sometimes less is more, Asmo.

That scorpion brooch is the best thing to ever grace my computer screen and it shouldn’t have to share the spotlight with the rest of his shirt. It should have wrapped around his arm and been paired with some more jewelry. Then he could have ditched those giant cuffs.

The bleeding heart tattoos are a really good idea! But they should have been angled better and not like someone else put them on at the roller rink. And maybe they shouldn’t have been outlined in pink. Those aren’t tattoos, those are gaping holes in his arm. Is he ok.

I’ve been avoiding the pants, but. The pants.

“Oh dear god. Oh no that’s… I thought you were a designer…” —Jo

One side is buckled the ENTIRE way down, and then the other side is COMPLETELY plain. It’s too extreme on both ends. It should have been only half a leg of buckles. Not whatever this is. I still don’t think he can bend that leg.

The shoes are ok but they COULD have been a stiletto so.

Jo is DONE with these demons’ inability to wear socks.

We expected better from you, Asmo. I hope you have to fasten all those buckles every morning as retribution.

Beelzebub:

He said “how many belts can I wear on one outfit.”

Justin said it’s like Barry B. Benson and Post Malone had a beautiful baby boy, and Obey Me! is cancelled for creating a sequence of events that could lead to me hearing that with my own two ears.

The jacket? Stunning. “It’s steampunk mixed with Jack Sparrow, mixed with Billie Joe Armstrong,” says Justin. It’s got puffy sleeves! And there’s objectively too much going on with the jacket, but since it’s a leather jacket I can forgive it. Justin and Jo can’t.

I’m not sure why they keep giving him weird jacket collars but I prefer belt number 9 to fur.

“Why is it bucked in the back? Couldn’t it have just been a jacket?” —Megan

Good that the black tank isn’t only black, but he has so little color on his outfit that it would have been nice for it and the matching pattern on his boots to have been a color besides gray.

I don’t mind the belts down the leg because they’re not too in your face. Jo wants the white belt to be thinner. Justin wants him to just pick one and go with it.

Poor Beel, he can’t do his lil thigh pat pose without his right hand being assaulted by studs and that bear trap-shaped buckle.

Justin feels like the cowboy boots are too wide up top and it’s probably because they’re FAKE cowboy boots. I don’t know why he didn’t just get cowboy boots instead of putting fake coverings over his dress shoes.

Can’t fault the twin belt, though. And the wing hole isn’t terrible.

Idk I guess. They knew what they wanted to do at least.

That seems to be the pattern with Beel: they know what they want to do, but something weird happens in the middle of it.

Belphegor:

“I don’t know which Teletubby let their son go through the it’s just a phase mom phase, but they should be ashamed.” —Justin

A toddler who just learned how to cut holes in paper got a hold of his hoodie.

Is it a hoodie? A jacket? A poncho? The cow print actually isn’t terrible. At least it had the decency to be unique in its spotting. And the actual presence of blue is very appreciated.

On the topic of colors, Jo is calling the devs out on their apparent fear of color. “Put the pink elsewhere, cowards,” they say.

We actually don’t hate the horseshoe, and using it for the belt buckles is actually really clever. Even if 75% of them are doing literally nothing. Feel like he didn’t need that many. Could do without the bottom one, maybe even bottom two.

There’s a teeeeny tiny cowbell on the back? Megan apparently finds that VERY important. Why do they go to such great lengths to remind us that Belphie’s a cow? Beel doesn’t rub his hands together 24/7. Mammon doesn’t even get bird wings.

Just like Satan spilled bleach, Belphie has tar pants.

It’s nice to see a change in pant style, but. Am I biased because I hate harem pants? Maybe. Are these harem pants too short on him? Yes. Maybe they were supposed to be parachute capris? But it just looks he outgrew them too fast and Lucifer won’t buy him new pants yet. At least they look comfy.

If he puts his keys in those pockets will his pants fall down? Probably. That’s a problem considering his are the only pants that look like they could hold any keys.

The shoes are fine. I can enjoy a high topped sneaker. …Is that a security tag? Did he steal his shoes. Belphie stole his shoes.

On the tiny tail hole, I appreciate that Belphie went for modesty. But I hope it’s impossible to wear these outfits outside of demon form because I don’t want him walking around with a tiny hole right above his ass.

Honestly he doesn’t even look like a demon? He just looks like… a cow.

There’s one more aspect of their demon forms that I didn’t feel comfortable forcing into a smaller space than it deserved: Silhouettes. Jo puts a lot of weight on silhouettes and their role in character design. Is it dynamic? Is it recognizable? Jo ranked them as such:

1. Lucifer: 9/10. Care and effort were put into this design and it shows. 2. Mammon: 7/10. Points deducted for most of it being form fitting but otherwise still manages to get a passing grade. 3 (tied). Beelzebub: 5/10. His wings have actual mass but his horns being mostly hidden by his head reduce his score. 3 (tied). Belphegor: 5/10. Evens out since his clothes aren’t as form fitting as the others but they also kind of turn him into a blob. 5. Asmodeus: 4/10, and only because he’s got multiple wings and that his tailcoat breaks up the bottom half. 6. Satan: 3/10, for the fact HIS BOA carries most of the work in altering his silhouette. 7. Leviathan: 2/10. The tail and horns prevent this from being a total flop.

Our (surprisingly unanimous!) ranking of their outfits (not counting Megan her opinions deviated) were:

Mammon

Lucifer

Leviathan

Belphegor

Beelzebub

Asmodeus

Satan

In conclusion, any M-rated fic that doesn’t have it take demon Satan 20 minutes to take off his shirt is too unrealistic.

584 notes · View notes

hellisheuphoria · 4 years

Text

Chapter 5: Withdrawn.

The MC skips class, and runs into problems soon after.

[This chapter contains scenes describing blood, wounds, stitching and vivid dreams, so read at your own risk. And thank you for reading <3]

You did not know if your eyes were open, swirling darkness blinding you everywhere you looked. The air was frosty and cold, chilling you to your very bones.

It was silent, but muffled. You opened your mouth to speak but nothing could be heard. The silence engulfed you, lulling you to a sinister lullaby.

The darkness pierced your skin, biting you with its horrible, sharp claws. Black ink swirled through your skin like a tattoo, slowly spreading through your body.

You could breathe it in, you could feel the ink choke you from the inside and drown you slowly, filling your lungs with a feeling of desperation as you clawed at your chest for air.

It trickled down your hair, turning it into a beautifully menacing black. It was intoxicating you, a corrupt pleasure you’d felt like no other.

It whispered in your ears, muttering a mad gibberish than you could not understand. Its whispers echoed in your ears, bouncing and ringing on and off. It all merged into one, deafening your ears.

You could taste it. It tasted like deep mourning, melancholy, the feeling of hopelessness and anguish. A pure lamentation.

Everything came to a still, yet you could feel a presence behind you, frost nipping at your skin as the hair on the back of your neck stood at its end.

You could breathe, but it did not satisfy you. You could breathe, yet it poisoned your insides.

You could breathe, but you were dying.

His eyes were dark and soulless, filled with emptiness and sorrow of a malicious kind.

His arms wrapped themselves around you, bringing your bodies together as dread coursed through your icy veins, your body unwilling to move.

His hands found themselves wrapped around your neck, slithering around you like a noose.

”Oh, my dear, sweet MC...” His lips curled into a venomous smile, the whispers ringing in your ears like alarms, the volume increasing by the second.

”It’s too bad that I hate humans, you see.” He closed his eyes, relishing the aroma of fear dancing around the both of you.

”Otherwise, we may have gotten along quite well.” His claws dug into your neck, your body limp against his.

The only thing you could see was the glow of his eyes, crinkled with the pleasure of watching you die, unable to move and unable to speak.

Before the world melted away, and your soul ceased to exist in such a transparent, spurious world.

———————————————————————

”MC-“ A hand swatted at your shoulder, shaking you from your spot on the sofa.

”MC! Wake up!” You slapped away whoever it was standing over you, refusing to open your eyes.

Suddenly, a rush of cold water slid down your neck and you jumped forward, shivering in shock.

Luke stood over your form, looking guilty and holding an empty cup. He was already dressed in his usual attire, beret and all. You stared at him, and he nervously looked away from you.

”Uh, MC! I’m sorry, but- but you were gonna be late if you didn’t wake up, and I don’t want you to be late so I had to throw water at you.. It wasn’t a lot though! Just a-“

You hushed him, putting a finger to his lips in your drowsy state. “Luke, I understand. Just, let me relax for a bit. I can run to school, we’re at the dormitories anyway.”

He nodded his head vigorously in response, still feeling guilty for his method of awakening you.

”Uh, MC..” You turned your head toward him, eyes droopy.

“I- I’m so sorry I didn’t help you last night! I thought you wanted some space to yourself, and I thought it was the right choice!”

He rambled on, ”I could hear you crying, but I didn’t come to help you, I’m really, really sorry! It was selfish of me, I’m sorry, MC!” He exclaimed, looking down and avoiding your gaze as you stared at him in confusion..

”Wait, crying? Luke, I don’t remember crying last night. I went straight to bed. At least- I don’t remember crying.” His eyes widened, clearly as muddled as you were.

”But, I could- I could hear you crying. Look, there are tear marks on your pillow right there!” Your head snapped to where your head had just been resting a few minutes ago. If you looked close enough, there were really tear stains.

Your fingers unconsciously brushed your cheeks as you looked back at Luke, who stared at you in bewilderment as you had done the same.

Perhaps, these dreams were getting out of hand.

———————————————————————

“MC, will you really be going to school without your uniform on? Won’t you just get sent back?” Simeon spoke, his beautiful eyes staring back at yours.

”Yeah. Either I go, or don’t go. I’m pretty sure that everyone would rather I go.” You nonchalantly replied, glancing at the mirror as you fixed your hair.

”Hey, how about you guys go on to school without me? I might take long, due to, uh, getting ready...? You know, I still gotta look decent. ” You tried your best to act as casual as you could, and hoped he’d fall for the trick.

He sighed and smiled at you, “Okay, we’ll see you at school, alright? Don’t take too long.”

You were relieved he took the bait, otherwise you would have really had to go to school. Who could be asked to go, knowing that there would be a whole bunch of drama waiting for them? Certainly not you.

You heard the groups footsteps become more quiet and quieter, until they couldn’t be heard at all. You silently opened the door and stuck your head out, looking at both sides of the hallway.

You then closed the door and sighed in relief, standing by yourself in Luke’s dorm. He wouldn’t mind, would he? You needed this day for yourself, no questions asked.

You opened the door and then locked it with the spare key Luke handed to you, and took off in the other direction, set on going back to the House of Lamentation to collect your things.

———————————————————————

The floorboards creaked as you silently stepped into the house, closing the door behind you and attempting to try your best at staying as unnoticed as possible, like a mouse.

Nothing could be heard except for the pitter- patter your feet made as they stepped on the floorboards, but you still kept on trying your best to keep them as short and silent.

You opened the door of your room, rushing in there as fast as you could and shutting the door. Everything was in its same place as you had left it last night, your bed unmade and your clothes in heaps of piles everywhere.

You quickly gathered your school clothes, your laptop, essential items and other things you would need. You didn’t plan on staying here for a little bit, maybe a few weeks. You could probably couch-surf between dorms. If they let you, of course. If they didn’t, you always could just roam around for a little bit, pulling all-nighters or sleeping on benches.

The minute your grabbed your laptop, the shelf above it collapsed and fell, causing a huge ruckus. Your froze and your breath ceased, flower pots fell from the shelf and broke, the shards cutting the back of your hand.

You winced and pulled it back, wiping the blood on your shirt, and trying to press on it. It still bled quite heavily, and it looked as though you would need stitches, but you were no professional.

Something ran across the hallway, making their way towards your room, you closed your eyes instinctively, facing the other way when they opened the door, panting.

”MAMMON! What the hell-“

Levi burst into the room, his phone in one hand and a violent aura being emitted off him.

”Wait, you’re not Mammon! You’re MC!” He gasped, out of breath.

”I thought Mammon was in here stealing your things, what are you doing here? Didn’t you run away?” He eyed the bag in your hand, full of your belongings.

”Oh..” His eyes darkened, an envious tone surfacing in his voice.

”So you’ve ditched us, huh?” He grabbed your injured hand and pulled you closer, hurt and betrayal swirling in his eyes.

”MC..” He noticed your pained expression and looked down at both of your hands intertwined, feeling the blood ooze out of your wounds, a horrible contrast to his pale skin.

He looked back at your desk where broken flower pots lay, shattered into fragments.

”Oh, MC! We have a medical kit in the kitchen- follow me there!”

He ran off to the kitchen, with you trailing not too far behind. He grabbed a small kit off the top of the refrigerator and opened it, pulling out surgical thread and a needle. You winced at the sight of it.

”I’ve done this before- it’s a story for another time- but it might hurt for you because you’re human. I’ll try my best, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

Blood was beginning to drip into the table, and so you tied your best to stay still as he disinfected it, trying to wash off the blood at the same time.

When he pierced your skin with the needle, you hissed in pain- and Levi anxiously went red, panicking that he was being too rough. When he finished, he bandaged it and packed up, hiding the evidence that someone had been injured.

”Levi?” He turned towards you, humming in response.

”I’m sorry for getting blood on you, if you want, you can change and I’ll wait.” He looked down, noticing the blood on his shirt, but then also noticed the blood on yours, too. He raised an eyebrow jokingly.

”Oh, right- I have to change too, haha.” You smiled in response, relieved he wasn’t treating you any differently.

You went to your room and Levi went to his. There was still broken fragments everywhere, so you would need to be careful. Especially of your hand, too.

You changed out of your bloody clothes, tossing them to the side onto the pile of your dirty laundry. You then noticed the bag sitting untouched on your chair and picked it up, retrieving your laptop and placing it inside of your bag.

You heard him come inside of your room and close the door, walking behind you. You hummed and slung the bag over your shoulders, finally turning around.

”Oh--“ Your words died in your mouth before you spoke, recognising the person in front of you.

Belphegor.

He stood in front of you, his tall figure looming over you and his usual frown on his gorgeous, yet evil face.

”MC,” he smiled in relief, yet still looking tired and drowsy. “We looked for you for so long.”

You shifted anxiously, your eyes darting everywhere but on him. “I-I know. And I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you guys.” You meekly responded, feeling intimidated by his figure.

He noticed the bag in your hands and his expression soured within less than a second.

”MC.” His voice willed you to look at him, your eyes meeting his.

”You’re leaving?” He looked so hurt, so vulnerable, his eyes glistening with crushed hope, his bottom lip trembling with sadness.

His eyes hooked onto yours, the world being zoned out as you could feel yourself being pulled in, your mind in a drowsy state as your body took a life of its own, unwilling to obey your commands.

”Belphegor...” you whispered out his name in a weak tone, feeling ever so sorry for him. You didn’t realise it, but you were falling deeper into his spell, sin ravaging his aura as he willed you to close in on him and forget your childish tantrum so you wouldn’t leave him behind.

Levi’s voice cut through the air as he crashed inside, holding his phone in the air with a worrying expression.

”MC, they’re on their way here!”

Belphegor and you separated as Levi jumped in, practically bouncing with energy as he yelled.

”Levi, Belphegor,” you worriedly spoke up, grabbing both of their attention.

”I need your help to hide me.”

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isnt-it-loverly · 4 years

Text

little birdie (4)// five hargreeves

Warnings: blood

Summary: When Five lands in the Sparrow Academy, he must convince one of them to help him reset the timeline.

Word count: 1800

Author note: sorry if this is bad, ive been in a rut as of late. Once again thank you so much for all the love and support. I hope you enjoy :)

part one, part two, part three part five

You knocked softly on the door of apartment 217. An elderly lady opened the door with a bright smile on her face.

“Hello, my little birdie! It's been so long!” She said while pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. The wool of her sweater scratched against your skin, and the smell of freshly baked cookies and wild flowers filled your nose. She pulled away and placed her gaze on Five.

“Oh, you’ve brought a friend!” She added gleefully.

“Yes, Granny, this is um… Aidan! We met at the karate class my father has me in,” You explained. You hated lying to such a sweet old lady, but you knew the truth would be too much for her to understand. Plus you really didn’t have the time to explain everything.

You turned back to Five and have a shrug of your shoulders. He was right, he didn’t need a normal name. Five was just too fitting. She moved closer to him and grabbed his cheek, making him very uncomfortable.

“You’re father is just terrible for making you kids do that! Look how roughed up the pair of you are, come inside and we’ll get you cleaned up” She said solemnly.

Five walked beside you and grabbed your arm firmly. Pulling you to the side he whispered a quick “what the hell” in your ear.

“She thinks she’s my grandma,” you replied bluntly, “just go along with it.”

Five sighed in exasperation, this was not helping him find his siblings. He followed you into the apartment begrudgingly, trusting that you were not just yanking his chain. The old woman excused herself and said she would bake a fresh batch of cookies. After she left you grabbed his sleeve and whispered, “follow me.”

You lead him into a side bedroom. It was small and quaint, very homey compared to the academy.

“Remember when I said that I’ve lived a million lives? Gertrude was one of my first, I got stuck in her mind for weeks, and I learned a lot about her. Her husband died right before I got trapped in her noggin, so I switched some memories then added some new ones. I’ve been visiting ever since,” You explained.

“Do your siblings know?” He asked, worry dripping in his tone.

“Not to my knowledge, I don’t think they’d appreciate me having a life outside the academy,” you answered with a shrug.

Five was utterly perplexed by you. You were an enigma, so eager to trust others, so kind, and selfless. How did you end up so different from the others? He watched as you opened a drawer of the cedar chest that was in front of the bed.

“Sometimes, I like to take things from the people I’ve been. Just as little reminders. I think I have some clothes in here that might fit you,” you said with extreme focus. You pulled out a tee-shirt and jeans, something Five was not accustomed to. He turned his nose slightly.

“I’d rather choke on my own tongue than wear that,” He groaned.

You shook your head in annoyance, pulling out a set of clean clothes for yourself as well. You enjoyed civilian wear, it made you feel normal and secure- something your academy uniform could never.

“Just put on the damn clothes before I make you short stack,” you snapped back. Your eyes glowed s brighter blue for a moment and Five now knew he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“At least turn your back,” he grumbled in response.

You gave him a small laugh and did as you were told. You crawled to the other side of the bed and slipped on your new clothes as well. After a few minutes, Five gave you the clear.

“Wow, unknit that eyebrow and wipe that frown off your face, and you look almost normal,” You said with a smile.

It was true, he looked like a regular ole teenager. Something you know that he has never been. You give him a look over before your eyes stop at his forearm. An umbrella tattoo, of course, he would have one.

Five noticed you staring, he followed your gaze to his arm. He lifted it so you could see it better, and an ever-present scowl on his face.

“Do you have one?” He asked.

You nodded solemnly and pushed up your sleeve. You placed your arm against his, the bird and the umbrella practically touching. You wondered why your Father loathed them so much and then it was quiet for a moment.

“The houses of Capulet and Montague,” you spoke up in a mocking tone.

“I didn’t ask you to betray your entire family,” He said. His voice was deep and rough, a sense of anger could be detected.

“No, but you really twisted my arm showing me the whole apocalypse thing. I’m an empath idiot, your feelings became mine,” You were quick to snap back.

Five liked that about you. You were nice and helpful, but you also knew when to stand your ground. He could compare you to a coin, two different sides yet well balanced. A perfect equilibrium.

“I’ve helped you,” you murmured, “now I think you owe me.”

He raised an eyebrow at you, curious and intrigued at what you were going to say.

“I’ve only done this once and it didn’t end well. I need you to keep me grounded, do whatever it takes to get me back. My father believes that I can project my consciousness onto someone without looking into their eyes, so I’m going to try to do that to your sister, Allison,” you explained.

“You said it didn’t end well? What happened?” Five asked, very concerned.

“It takes a lot out of me, I couldn’t get into anyone’s mind and it almost killed me,” You confessed.

“I’m sorry, did you say killed?” He responded wide-eyed. It warmed your heart that he was at least concerned about you.

“Look, do you wanna find your family or not? Unless you have a better plan?” You asked with a slight raise of your voice.

Five shook his head, knowing that this was the best plan You sat on the plush bed, curling your fingers around the soft comforter. You took a shaky breath and closed your eyes tightly. Running the fabric between your fingers you counted every stitch. You pictured his sister’s face in your mind, paying extra intention to her eyes. Five watched intently as you did, he was worried about you- you were an important asset and a powerful ally. It would be a shame if you died. Your eyes opened abruptly and to Five’s amazement and horror there was just white and a soft blue emanating from them.

When you opened your eyes again to find yourself sitting at a kitchen table. Looking up you see Allison sitting across from you, intently reading the newspaper. If she was there, then who were you? Looking down and the palms of your hands the words ‘hello’ and ‘good-bye’ were splayed across them.

“Well shit, I’m the pretty one,” You mumbled to yourself. Although you were very glad and very surprised that you had managed to pull this off, you would have to thank your father for the extra training the past few months.

“What are you on about now, Klaus?” Allison said utterly unamused.

“Actually it’s number five. Not your Five, the other five. Sparrow Five. Ya know what I’m rambling, I’m (Y/n),” You spit out quickly. Holy shit this man’s brain was fried. Everything was happening at a million miles an hour, you couldn’t keep up.

You watched as her expression changed, she stood up abruptly in the same fighting stance Five had used earlier. Her eyes watched you like a hawk and if looks could kill you’d be dead.

“Your family killed my brother, now I swear if you harm one hair on Klaus’ stupid head. I’ll end you,” She spat venom dripping in her words.

“He’s not dead! Five is very much alive, and we’re looking for you guys. So all we need is an address and we will be on our way,” You replied with a smile.

“Yeah right, why would I trust you?” She questioned.

“Look, Five is hurt really badly. This astral possession thing is gonna knock me on my ass, I won’t be able to protect him from my siblings. If you don’t help us, well, we’re both already dead,” You said in a somber tone.

You could tell that the gears we’re winding in her head. You felt a pain in your head that radiates in your chest, you coughed slightly and blood appeared on your hands. Shit its starting, you couldn’t stay much longer. You felt blood begin to slowly drip from your nose. Double shit with a cherry on top.

“What are you doing to him?” She yelled.

“Allison,” you choked, “he needs you.”

“Fine, just stop whatever you are doing to him!” She yelled in fear of her brother, Moments later she revealed the address, perfect that’s all you needed. Now you could get back and share your triumph.

You closed your eyes tightly and the world began to spin. Round and round, faster and faster. Until finally, you felt your legs give out but you didn’t hit the floor. You opened your eyes slowly to find yourself in Five’s arms. He was looking down at you, fear present in those emerald eyes. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Thank God, you started pouring out blood like a fountain. I thought you were dead,” He scolded. He sounded like an old man when he spoke, it was almost endearing.

You touched your nose and wiped away some of the fresh blood, staring at it intently. You felt so weak, that was too much and you vowed never to do that again. The cost was far too high. You sat up and you felt Five’s hand on your back- ready to steady you if you need it. You had really scared him, he didn’t know why. He had just met you, so why did the thought of losing you hurt so badly.

“I did it,” You mumbled hoarsely.

“Did what?” Five whispered in a soft voice. The tone was foreign even to him, but right now he felt like you needed a friend and not a sarcastic asshole.

“I found them, I found your family. They aren’t far from here,” You breathed out.

Five hugged you tightly and gave you a sincere thank you. You hugged back gently, you couldn’t remember the last time someone hugged you. It was a feeling you could get used to, warm, secure, and safe. You also couldn’t remember the last time you felt any of those things. Perhaps these umbrellas weren’t so bad after all.

“Come on,” You said breaking away, “let’s get some of those cookies, hit the road, and get you back to the right timeline.”

Taglist: alexander-hamilhoe

#number five #five x reader #five hargreeves #number five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x you #five x y/n #five #Umbrella Academy #The Umbrella Academy #tua #aidan gallagher

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ncfan-1 · 4 years

Text

110 Hurt/Comfort Prompts

I wrote myself this prompt list for hurt/comfort fic, since I had a desire to do prompt fic even though I don’t generally open my askbox to fic prompts (I worry too much about being given a prompt for something I absolutely, categorically do not want to write, and saying that I reserve the right to refuse prompts feels like it defeats the purpose of soliciting prompts in the first place). I do plan to do all of these prompts eventually, though it will likely take several years. I just wanted to make a fic series for myself that I could go to when I need to feel warm and fuzzy inside. If any of you want to use this prompt list, feel free; I wouldn’t publish it if I was averse to the idea of others using it.

1. Fainting 2. Insomnia 3. Nightmares 4. Failure 5. Food poisoning 6. Burns (sunburns or otherwise) 7. Crying 8. Magical curses 9. Broken arm/leg/wrist/ankle 10. Stitches 11. Bruises 12. Black eye 13. Broken ribs 14. Fever 15. Broken glass 16. Hiding an injury 17. Bad trip 18. Amnesia 19. Migraines 20. Loneliness 21. Poison/Venom 22. Hurts to breathe 23. House burns down 24. Near-drowning 25. Hypothermia 26. Electrocution 27. Kidnapping 28. Heartburn 29. Warm blankets 30. Whooping cough 31. Soft bed 32. Scars 33. Panic attacks 34. Altitude sickness 35. Bed rest 36. Infected wound 37. Working into exhaustion 38. Trembling 39. Social anxiety 40. Aftercare 41. Transformations 42. Too cold 43. Presumed dead 44. Hot drink 45. Holding hands 46. Tattoos 47. Chronic pain 48. Stranger in a strange land 49. Betrayal 50. Intense cold 51. Intense heat 52. Self-sacrifice 53. Death of a child 54. Death of a parent 55. Death of a sibling 56. Castaways 57. Ghosts 58. Gifts 59. Trapped in a labyrinth 60. Amatonormativity 61. Language barriers 62. Touch-starved 63. Touch-averse 64. Starved for affection 65. Isolation 66. Saying goodbye 67. Dysphoria 68. Sensory overload 69. Shyness 70. Identity crisis 71. Existential crisis 72. Impostor syndrome 73. Culture shock 74. Comfort food 75. Bad day at work 76. Bad day at school 77. Exile 78. Pet injury/death 79. Arguments 80. Starting over 81. Redemption 82. Atonement 83. End of a relationship 84. End of an era 85. Music 86. Perfume 87. Gardening 88. Seasonal affective disorder 89. Hearing voices 90. Quarantine 91. Letter-writing 92. Prayer 93. Menstrual cramps 94. Sympathy for an enemy 95. Stabbing 96. Losing an eye 97. Broken wing 98. Assassination attempt 99. Sleeping on the couch 100. Acupuncture 101. Massages 102. Aromatherapy 103. A merry, crackling fire 104. Cuddling 105. Claustrophobia 106. Reconciliation 107. Rituals 108. Intrusive thoughts 109. Phone calls 110. Tenderness

#Hurt/comfort #Hurt/comfort prompts #Fic prompts

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everything-is-by-design · 5 years

Text

Unpretty

Female reader. Reader has an unusual gift of healing and struggles with body image. Reader is plus sized. I’ve got a thing for Dom!Luci and I am not ashamed. Remember that you are beautiful no matter what size you are and whoever disagrees, send them to me and I’ll take care of it. Enjoy folks!

Word Count: 3.5k

Lucifer x Reader

Warnings: Self harm, body image issues, unprotected sex, Dom!Lucifer

After a date gone wrong, the reader has an emotional outburst. Lucifer shows up just in time to help her out of her funk.

You tried to breathe evenly as you looked into the coffee shop through a large bay window. You hadn’t been on a date in a while and were a little nervous. You met this guy off a dating site and he seemed pretty normal. Which is something that you longed for after living with the Winchesters for the past few months. Angels, demons, vampires, werewolves. So many monsters and not enough normalcy to even it out.

The place you picked out was small but cozy, inside of an old house, it was your favourite place in the outside world. It was called the Tea House, pretty simple but you enjoyed it. You caught sight of him, a little relieved that he beat you there, less chance he would stand you up that way. It was summer so you didn’t have on any heavy layers, nothing to conceal the extra weight you carried. This put you on edge quite a bit. But you decided not to let it bother you too much. Not everyone is an asshole.

You took a deep breath and headed inside. You stopped in front of your date. You cleared your throat. He looked up from his phone. You smiled, “Hi, Cody? It’s Y/N, from Plenty of Fish.”

He hesitated briefly but returned your smile with one of his own. He stood up, “Hey, let me get you a coffee.”

You nodded and sat down, hanging your bag over the back of the chair while Cody went up to the front counter and ordered your drink. You drummed your fingers anxiously on the table as you waited for him. You frowned, already feeling your thighs sticking to the finished wood of the chair. You looked over your outfit again; black shorts and a red spaghetti strap tank, and red converse to match. You thought you looked good and you tried to put your judgements to the side for the time being.

Cody returned with your drink and the two of you began chatting. You talked for a little over an hour and you internally smiled to yourself. Could this be it? An actual normal guy who didn’t have fangs or claws or glowing eyes? At the end of the date you both left the Tea House and stood out front. Was he going to kiss me or should I kiss him first?

“Thank you for the coffee and the chats. I had a lot of fun,” You smiled.

His smile looked genuine but you’d been easily deceived before. “I did too.”

“So?” You asked eagerly, “Do you think we’ll—”

“Listen, Y/N, I had a good time, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think this is going to work out.” Cody stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged, trying to avoid eye contact.

Don’t say what I think you’re going to say. You thought. “Uh, why?”

“I just don’t think we’re a good match,” He said.

Okay, that’s fair. You reasoned. Don’t dig deeper, you don’t need to know why. But you couldn’t help yourself. “Oh?”

Cody’s demeanour changed from being nervous to arrogant in a split second. “Look, it’s cute that you thought you even had a chance with a guy like me. I mean look at me, stellar looks and rock hard abs, I’m a catch. But girl, there’s way too much junk in your trunk. I’m a ten and you’re a two. Maybe ease off the burgers and pizza for a while. Later.”

He left shortly after his explanation, laughing as he passed by you. You stood there, shocked, holding on tightly to the strap of your bag. Your breathing was quick and unsteady as tears welled up in your eyes. A sudden vibration snapped you out of the moment and you looked at your phone. It was a text from Dean.

Hey, Y/N, hope your date went well. Lucifer showed up. Keep your guard up when you get back if we’re not there. Call if you need us.

You blinked through your tears and put your phone away. Immediately you started walking back to the bunker. You got there after thirty minutes and slammed the door behind you. Running down the stairs, you bypassed the library where Sam and Dean were sitting. Dean’s voice called out to you but you didn’t hear it. You reached your room and slammed that door too. You threw your bag across the room. It hit the wall and fell to the floor with a quiet thud. You paced the room, feeling nothing but pure rage devouring any sadness you’d previously felt.

You pawed at your arm, desperate to feel something other than the pain you were feeling in your gut. You looked up at the wall above your bed where various hunting blades were hung. You grabbed onto the closest one, relatively small, and held it to your forearm. You growled as you pressed the blade against your arm but didn’t puncture the skin. You snarled viciously as you threw the blade across the room where it clattered against the wall and the floor.

You could feel the emotional episode taking over you bit by bit. Running your fingers through your hair, you were desperate to find a way out. You grabbed the pill bottle next to your bed. Clonazepam. Before you opened the bottle, something in the corner of the room caught your eye. You quickly changed into a sports bra and active pants and running shoes. You went over and grabbed your wraps and pink boxing gloves and wrenched the door open. You stormed down the hallway until you came to the gym.

Anger was dripping from you like rain falling off a tin roof. You dropped the gloves on the hard concrete floor as soon as you reached the bag. You wrapped your hands and went to pick up the gloves but then hesitated, leaving them on the ground and kicking them away. You took a couple of deep breaths before diving in.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Jab. Jab. Hook. Kick.

Jab. Jab. Upper cut. Kick.

You unapologetically pictured Cody’s face on the bag as you laid into it with an unbreakable fury. Over and over in your head you ran through what he said to you and your insecurities were making it worse. Fat arms. Fat ass. Fat thighs. Fat stomach. Tears blurred your vision, but you didn’t let up, pummelling the bag mercilessly. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up, singling that you weren’t alone, but you ignored it. It was probably Dean trying to calm you down. Or Sam trying to let you know that it was okay to be upset. The boys were oddly protective over you and while you appreciated it, you needed your space. You needed space to be angry.

You heard footsteps approaching you and without turning around you spat venom at the intruder. “Leave me alone, Dean. I have a right to be angry.”

No answer just more footsteps. You couldn’t help the anger exploding from you and you whipped around mid-punch. A hand caught your wrist, but it wasn’t Dean’s. You stopped, sweat dripping down your face and neck as you tried to register who was standing in front of you. “That’s quite a temper you have, Y/N.”

“Lucifer,” You said breathlessly. “Nice to see you again.”

“Did I interrupt something?” He looked at you, amusement rising in his eyes at the idea of you being violent. He looked at your hand and then back at you. “You’re bleeding.”

The tingling sensation in your knuckles intensified now that you’d stopped hitting the bag. Like a fresh tattoo after the needle has stopped. The cool air of the bunker stung your broken flesh. You flexed your free hand and winced at the feeling. Your breathing was rapid but you could feel yourself smiling. Lucifer dropped your arm and pushed past you to inspect the bag. He ran his finger over the small bloody patch and then looked back at you.

“Is this a normal for you?” He questioned, almost looking angry with your life choices.

You sighed, looking down at your hands and watched as the wounds stitched themselves back together. “Anything to feel a little control.”

“You’re certainly acting out of control,” Lucifer jabbed at you.

“Watch it,” You spat, still reeling from your workout session.

He cocked an eyebrow and for a moment you thought he might kill you. You hadn’t known him that long but you could certainly tell when you’d pissed him off. And you certainly didn’t have any wiggle room to be speaking to him disrespectfully. However, you didn’t apologize. Lucifer walked towards you and you instinctually took a few steps back. He eyed you, raising his finger to his chin as if studying you. “What spurred on such rage?”

“It’s not important,” You said, fighting back tears when you thought of Cody’s words.

“It was important enough for you to hurt yourself over it,” Lucifer said. You honestly didn’t think he was going to catch onto that bit. The boys never did. And it’s not like you had any scars for them to see. That was one of the benefits of being a Healer, any cut was there long enough for you to feel and indulge in and then it vanished. It was a sick thought but it was true. “Did you honestly think I didn’t notice?”

“Why do you even care?” More anger flooded through you and you turned away from him, trying not to show emotion but failing significantly. You kept your back to him and pressed you fingers against the bridge of your nose. You accidentally let a few shuddering breaths escape your mouth as you held back the urge to cry.

“Did someone say something to you?” Lucifer pried, stepping closer to you.

“Yes,” You said, surprised that you even answered at all. You kept your back to him, not wanting him to see the silent tears flooding from your eyes. “I was on a date. It didn’t go well.”

The air in the room changed almost instantly. You could hear the venom in Lucifer’s words when he spoke to you. “What happened?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Your voice broke.

Lucifer spun you around and gripped your upper arms tightly. He gave you a little shake. “Tell me,” He said slowly.

You looked down, too ashamed to meet his gaze. “He said it wouldn’t work because I was overweight.”

There was a beat of silence before he responded. “Text him and tell him to meet you and I’ll take care of it.”

A small prick of excitement passed through you at the idea of Lucifer avenging you. You had to be honest that the idea had crossed your mind too. His words made you smile wickedly, “As much fun as that would be, we can’t just go around killing people who are mean to us.”

“Why not?” Lucifer said, smirking back at you. He ran his hand down your arms sending goosebumps every which way. He moved closer to you and you felt your cheeks heat up at his proximity. His eyes softened as he wiped away your tears. “You shouldn’t cry over someone so insignificant and meaningless.”

“Who should I cry over then?” You asked.

Lucifer lifted your chin with his index finger and looked at you sternly, “No one.”

“Why do you care?” You asked again, genuinely curious.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” The angel said, before softly pressing his lips to yours.

When he pulled away, you were stunned. Why did he do that? Why would someone as beautiful as he want to be with me?

Lucifer kissed you again, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards. His kiss wasn’t soft this time though, it was forceful. He pushed you up against the wall, tugging at your pants. You broke the kiss as shame wracked you. “No, I’m not…you don’t want me.”

“Do not tell me what I can and cannot want,” Lucifer said, trailing kisses down your neck.

“B-But I’m not—” You were cut off by Lucifer’s hand as it clamped down over your mouth.

“Don’t,” Lucifer warned, tightening his grip on your mouth. “Don’t think those things about yourself. I forbid it.”

You felt a sliver of confidence rise up in your chest and you tempted to poke at the beast. You peeled his hand off of you. You smiled slyly, “What if I say no?”

He smirked before grabbing you by the throat and pushing you further into the wall. He squeezed your throat and your eyes rolled back into your head. Lucifer chuckled, “Do you really think you can win this game?”

“No, but I do like to play it,” You smiled, bravely reaching out to pull at his pants. Your hand grazed over his clothed erection. Clearly, your defiance was spurring him on. He nodded, a smirk pulling at his lips. He let go of your throat and for a moment you thought you’d gone too far. Your confidence faltered and almost instantly you were consumed with shame. I knew this was too good to be true. He doesn’t want you after all.

Lucifer spun you around, grabbing at your hands and holding them behind your back. You felt his cold breath in your ear and he leaned over you. The angel growled in your ear, “What did I say about thinking badly about yourself?”

You groaned as his free hand pulled down your pants and panties just far enough to slip his hand in. He found your clit and pressed his finger against it. You gasped at the sudden contact, squirming under his touch.

“Well?” He demanded, expecting an answer from you. His fingers moved expertly as he held your arms tightly. He bit down into your neck, finally eliciting a response from you.

“Ah! You told me not to do it,” You gasped. Lucifer praised you by slipping a finger into you, your pussy already dripping with arousal. You moaned against the wall and tried to press yourself against him.

“And what did you do?” Lucifer hissed.

Your breathing hitched in your throat, “I disobeyed you.”

“Hm, then what am I going to do with you?” He pushed in another finger, bucking his hips against your ass. His fingers pumped in and out at a merciless pace but dear god did it feel good.

“You should punish me, Sir,” You said softly, almost too scared to say it any louder in fear of spooking him.

Smack! You yelped at the hard sting of Lucifer’s hand making hard contact with your ass. “What do you think of ten? It’s a good round number.”

“It’s up to you, Sir,” You whimpered as he withdrew the hand that was pleasuring you.

“Correct. Count,” He ordered. He dropped your arms and you leaned on the wall for support. You waited for the next blow, flinching as he moved around you. You heard the unbuckling of his belt and gulped at the thought of what was coming. Smack! His belt came down on your skin hard. You flinched and leaned into the wall. “What did I say?” He snarled.

“One,” You said as pins and needles spread throughout your body. The belt came down again and you flinched against the wall, its cold bricks pressed up against your stomach. “Two.”

An intense heat dripped from your pussy with every blow from the archangel’s belt. Tears escaped your eyes, betraying your pleasure, but he didn’t let up. And honestly, you enjoyed every single bit of it. The belt stung and you were sure the soft flesh of your ass was scarlet by now. You dug your nails into the wall desperately, clawing at it as if you were trying to find something to hold onto. Lucifer’s breathing was ragged. He was enjoying this just as much as you were.

His belt hit you again and you tensed up, almost leaning into his action. “Nine.” He hesitated on the last one, drawing it out. The anticipation grew so high that you whimpered, pleading with him to continue. Smack! It felt like he put his full strength into the final blow. You groaned against the wall. “T-Ten.”

You recoiled slightly when his hand came into contact with your sore skin. He rubbed the tender spot gently and leaned in to place kisses on the back of your neck. He pulled your pants down further and bent you at the hips. He ran his fingers across your slick pussy. “Such a good little whore you are. Getting so wet for me.”

He undid his zipper and pushed down his jeans, freeing his cock. He moved closer to you, his cock grazing your entrance. You leaned back, attempting to mount yourself on him. Lucifer grabbed your hair in response and yanked your head back painfully. Without warning, he pushed into you with one hard thrust. You yelped in surprise at the intrusion. He didn’t take it slow and soft. That just wasn’t his way. But you didn’t want to be coddled right now, all you wanted was him and the intense pleasure he made you feel. His fingers found your clit once more and he caressed the sensitive nub in a circular motion. He pounded into you like a jack hammer eliciting desperate cries that erupted from your mouth.

You felt yourself swirling around a rather intense orgasm but knew you’d never get away with it without asking permission. He tugged a little harder on your hair making you squirm beneath him. “Lucifer, I’m going to cum.”

“Beg for it and maybe I’ll let you,” Lucifer said in your ear. His breath on your neck left you shivering, wanting more of him.

His fingers moved faster and so did his thrusts. You couldn’t fight it any longer. “Please. Please, Lucifer. Oh my god.”

Smack! He let go of your hair and hit your tender flesh again. He wrapped his hand around your throat and brought you up so that your back was against his chest. “You’re going to pay for that.”

He’d stopped all movement, turning you around and forcing you on your knees. You made a note not to say his father’s name again. You looked up at him to see the angel’s eyes flash red. Uh oh.

“Open that pretty little mouth of yours,” He ordered condescendingly.

You did as you were told. Almost instantly, he shoved his cock inside your mouth. He held onto the back of your head to keep you in place and he forced his cock to the back of your throat. You choked on him and tried to push away but he held you there. You moaned against him and pressed your knees together, desperately trying to create some friction. Something tickled against your skin and you guessed it was his Grace. It thrusted inside you making you jolt, pushing forward further onto Lucifer’s cock.

His Grace curled inside you hitting your g-spot over and over again. He began to pump in and out of your mouth. You felt his Grace take hold of your arms and pin them behind your back. You were helpless to his will. You gagged on his cock which made him grin. He leaned against the wall for support and you could tell he was reaching his own blissful torture.

“Y/N, cum for me. Now,” Lucifer breathed. His Grace released you and you cried out around his cock as your orgasm flowed through you. You convulsed, twitching at the after shocks from your climax. Not long after, Lucifer’s thrusts slowed and you felt him twitching in your mouth. Moments later he filled your mouth with hot cum as he panted out your name. He breathed heavily, trying to regain his balance before pulling out of your mouth. He tilted your head up, “Swallow.”

You obeyed and then showed him your good work. He smiled and helped you up. You pulled up your pants and stood awkwardly in front of him. You yelped when he scooped you up and brought you to your room. You leaned your head against his chest, tired from the sudden fuck fest. He shut the door behind you and gently removed your sports bra, pants, and shoes. He rummaged in your drawer before finding a cotton nightie. He motioned for you to lift your arms and you did as he slid the garment onto you. He pulled back the covers of your bed and gestured to it. You didn’t hesitate, climbing in immediately. You were a little surprised when he crawled in next to you. He wrapped an arm around your waist and kissed your forehead.

“You did very well,” Lucifer praised you as he drew circles into your hip with his thumb.

“T-Thank you,” You stammered, still a little dazed.

“You humans are strange. So concerned with body type. It makes no sense to me.” Lucifer murmured against your skin. “You are worth so much more than what you weigh. And don’t let me catch you thinking about yourself like that again, do you hear me?”

You nodded, “Yes, Sir.”

You yawned and nuzzled up close to his chest. He pulled the blankets up over the both of you and rubbed your back, giving your forehead one more kiss before you fell asleep, already dreaming about your next session with the devil.

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