#weak and eepy now

[swampy-witch]

tired from the gym (send help)

[luxiingzhe]

;;ooc: Actually my Lumine right now.

@glaciescustodia @memorytidex

[whats-it-mean]

sigh it seems @eslover is forcing me to engage in a somewhat less fucked sleep schedule (cringe) so off i go to honk mimimimimi guys

[mothergold]

taking a break from bingeing mha to sleep some more just as god intended for me 💀

[junkmailmusubi]

first day of prescription adderall visualized

[whathorselegs]

Once again thinking about this manga panel, but not because of eepy Chuuya this time. (though that's usually why asdfhjk)

But because Dazai, who was previously knelt down and teasing Chuuya, completely relaxed now that the fight is done, stands up as soon as John emerges from the trees.

John who is an enemy, who even though he's unarmed is an ability user who could still easily attack Chuuya and comes into the clearing behind Chuuya.

Chuuya who is too tired and worn to defend himself right now, Chuuya who has a weakness to attacks from behind and surprise attacks.

And Dazai stands up, he plays it off nonchalantly, but he's alert because an enemy has just appeared and could decide to attack them if he wanted to. If he wanted vengeance for his fallen comrade. So Dazai stands and he leans towards Chuuya, ready to shield him from an attack from an ability when he's practically defenceless.

[sh1-n0bu]

𝔫𝔬𝔟𝔲’𝔰 𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔱𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 2023!

day 5: caught masturbating with jing yuan from hsr

warnings: caught masturbating, slight exhibitionism, dry humping, undergarments stealing, handjob, praise, thigh riding

notes: hehehehehhe pervy eepy general<333

having a person in a position of power and authority as a lover can be so stressful and scary sometimes. although jing yuan tries his best to make time for you and to spend some quality time together, being the general of the luofu can be so much.

not only was your lover an important figure, so were you. being the most famous merchant in the xianzhou alliance itself gets hard. but it is all worth it to see your sweet lover getting giddy over a new souvenir you brought back. whether that be a tea that helps to relieve stress or now his favorite pair of undergarments that you bought from a different world.

the very same pair now in his hand, wrapped around his hard and angry red cock as jing yuan tries desperately to reach his high without your help. can you blame the poor man? he went so long without your touch and caresses or even smooches to help him out, he was getting desperate.

biting down harder on his lower lip, so hard to the point he could taste the familiar metallic taste of blood on his lips, jing yuan forces himself to stay quiet as his hand moves to become tighter and more desperate on his weeping cock. being in his office in the seat of divine foresight, anyone could easily walk in at any moment and see their perverted general, desperately humping the undergarment of his lover.

and that did happen. you just happened to come back from a business trip to another one of the xianzhou ships earlier than you said you would. and what better sight to greet your tired eyes than that of your lover, fucking his red cock into his fist, barely held back moans and whines of your name tumbling out of his lips.

oh, what a sight to behold.

everyone on the luofu knows and regards jing yuan as the ever so calm and composed general. one of the seven arbiter general of the alliance, one of the six charioteers, always so dependable and perfect. everyone but you.

only you know how weak this man is. only you know how tired he is of his position as general. only you know how with a simple pair of undergarments of yours, your lover of many centuries would turn into a weak fool who would do anything just to get a taste of you.

the white haired man has still yet to notice your presence nor hear the sound of the lock on his office door quietly going click!. he only comes to his senses when he feels your arms wrap around his head, pulling his head close to yourself to rest over your beating heart.

the single whiff of your usual cologne was more than enough for the poor pent up general. hips bucking in his seat as he lets out a loud moan of your name into the fabric of your shirt before his cock spurts out ropes of cum, staining your undergarment that was still wrapped tightly in his grasp.

wasting no time, jing yuan’s free hand pulls you down to sit on his large seat as he settles himself on your lap. you knew this position well. having done this many times before in this same seat, in this same place, in the same position. your lover was quite the pervert underneath the aura of calm and sleepy facade he shows to the world.

“m-my love! aawhhh.. you’re back. you’re back you’re back you’re back! i’m so glad… missed you. missed you so much, my love—!” jing yuan wastes no time. with frantic movements and an embarrassingly hard again cock, he starts to rut himself on your thigh, humping your thigh over the fabric of your pants with weak whines and moans.

nestling his face into the crook of your neck, the white haired man places gentle kisses on the exposed skin on your neck as much as he could. the way his lips would tremble, whines and moans slipping out as he barely holds himself together to place revering kisses on your skin making you feel loved. and love him in return.

“‘m sorry. i have been gone for so long that i left you all alone and pent up, dear” you coo softly, your hand coming to wrap around his hard cock. how he manages to get hard again so easily just by being in your presence should prove just how utterly whipped he was for you. and it does. and you love him immensely for being so infatuated with you just as you are with him.

“no… no no, it’s okayyygh! it’s okay… you’re back, my love. that’s all that matters to me aanh! aaahmg♡︎—!” the general shakes his head, trying to reassure you through salacious moans and rutting himself on your thigh.

when your hand wrapped around his hardened cock again, thumb pushing on the underside of his sweet mushroom tip causing the general to let out loud, debouched sounds akin to a mewl of a cat. his hips buck weakly into your closed fist, trying to reach his high again on your hand and the soiled undergarment of yours.

it was wrong to greet his tired beloved back without a welcome back kiss beforehand, but the fluffy haired man in your lap was desperate and you seemed to understand. how he managed to be so lucky to become your lover was a mystery to him.

with soft coos of praises and how you missed him as much as he did, your hand expertly teasing his drooling slit, fucking his cock into your tightly closed fist, jing yuan lets out delirious babbles of how much he loves you as he comes on your hand.

placing a gentle kiss to his temple, your clean hand runs through his untamable white mane, the two of you simply bask in the peaceful afterglow of reunion and pleasure. cupping your cheek with his clean hand, jung yuan tilts your head to look at him before leaning and giving you a soft peck on your lips. with his signature cheeky grin and heart shaped pupils, he softly whispers,

“welcome back, my beloved.”

[nackrosor]

~Warm, Soft and Alive~

Captain John Price x sergeant fem!reader

8,5 k. - Your captain comes knocking at your door in the middle of the night after the umpteenth nightmare of you dying in his arms jolts him awake.

warnings: porn with plot & feelings, light angst, emotional hurt/comfort, soft dom, light power dynamics, praise kink, sleepy sex, multiple orgasms, mildly dubcon (just because you're very eepy), dry humping (except it's very wet), first time together, underlying romantic fluff, I'm not sure if this can be counted as somno but just in case I'm mentioning it.

John has seen many people die. He has witnessed a great deal of bloodshed, both among enemy's and friendly' line. He had his own soldiers fall on missions, fine men and women giving their own lives in order to save others. Some even took their last breaths in his arms. He remembers each one of them.

Everything was heightened during the early years. Every death devastated him, causing him nightmares and awful flashbacks... But as the years went by, his skin thickened and his mind grew used to the atrocities. Nothing could get through to him anymore.

Or so he thought.

He can't seem to shake off the image of you bloody and unconscious, laying in his arms as he puts pressure on the gnashing wound on your side, trying to reduce the blood loss. He can't forget the anguish he felt while looking at you in such a miserable state. How on edge he was on the frantic ride back to camp, with you falling in and back from consciousness the whole time. Those weak groans and cries of pain that left your lips still echo in his ears. He can't forget how lost he felt as the medics took your limp body from his arms and rushed to the operating room to get you under the knife. To save your life. You had lost so much blood on the way... There was a high possibility that you wouldn't... That you... He wouldn't have been able to forgive himself if you did. Thankfully, you’ve always been so strong. One of his best soldiers. You perdured. You lived. You healed. Still, he can't forget a second of it all. The sight of your limp battered body sagged against him haunts his dreams to this day. Months after the event. No matter how many times he sees you strolling about the HQ, chatting with your mates, smiling and nodding at him as you pass by. Every night he has the same nightmare of you dying in his arms, and his mind is pestered by fear and doubts. What if he truly lost you? What if you didn’t make it?

Another nightmare has woken him tonight, robbing him of sleep. And at this point, he knows there will be no peace for him until he sees you breathing and standing on your feet with his own two eyes. He can't wait for the morning, for you to wake up. He needs to see you right now, lest he loses his mind entirely. 

That's why he's marching to your quarters through the dark hallways of the HQ. Pace hurried, heart aching in his chest, head still whirling from the dreadful images of your life slipping away from those pretty eyes of yours. He can't take it one second longer. His fist hits the metal surface of your door a bit harder than he intended to, but he needs you to hear him and come open the door as quickly as possible. 

You jolt awake at the sudden knock on your door. Your heavy eyes flicker to the alarm clock on the nightstand, a groan leaving your lips upon noticing the green light signaling 2:40 am.

With much effort, you turn on the lamp then drag your feet off the bed and towards the entrance, groggily swaying the door open.

"Who the fuck-" You're ready to protest and tell off whoever dares to interrupt your sleep, but the words die on your tongue when your half-closed eyes land on your captain.

One glance at your half-asleep, messy look and all the tension washes off of his body like soothing water. 

“Can I come in?” John’s voice sounds shaky, the relief of seeing you battling with the effects of the nightmare still lingering in his mind.

"Uhhh-" you look up at him, momentarily taken aback by his request, your mind still clouded by sleep. Why is your captain at your door, at such a late hour, asking to come inside your room? Perhaps you're still lost in your dreamworld. 

With a sluggish shrug, you eventually move aside and let him step inside. 

John shuts the door behind him, quietly. It is darker inside your room than out, but he can make you out in the darkness thanks to the faint yellow light coming from the abajour on your nightstand. 

His eyes trail down your body, checking you over as discreetly as possible for any signs of injury; a habit he’s taken on since that day. There’s an urge to grab your arms and hold you still so he can run his hands over you, check that you’re real and solid in front of him.

You don't notice his scrutinizing gaze as you rub your hands over your face, trying to wipe the sleepiness out of your features.

"Hm, cap?" you call out for him, your voice raspy and drowsy. One of your hands lazily tug at your thin top, adjusting the straps on your shoulders. "What happened?"

The way you pull at your clothes has John quickly sweep his gaze over the exposed skin. He’s seen you in a similar attire countless times before, but for some reason tonight this sight of you has his stomach flipping.

“Nothin’ happened. I just-“ he breaks off. John can’t admit that he’s here because he woke up from yet another nightmare of you bloody and broken, dying in his arms.

“I needed to see you.”

The words take a moment to register in your hazy mind, and when they do, you blink at him in confusion.

"Hm. Me... ? Why?" you ask him hesitantly, a slight frown taking form on your face. You shift awkwardly on your feet, your head tilting to the side as you look up at him with your doe eyes. Your fingers scratch mindlessly at an old scar on your bicep.

His eyes flicker to your arm. The sigh has his heart twisting in his chest. He knows all of your scars, old and new. And he remembers that one clearly, even more than the others. Perhaps because he wasn’t the one to patch you up that time.

John takes a step forward, closing the space between you two. It’s suddenly stifling in your room, and he’s hyper aware of how thin your top is and how much he wants to touch you. 

Your head cranes upward as he steps closer, your eyes unwavering from his face.

"...Cap?" you whisper softly, your frown deepening at his silence. You hold onto your arm with undisguised unease, warming up your bare skin with your palm.

John reaches to brush some of your messy hair away from your face. Your skin is warm beneath his palm, soothing the coldness in his chest. All those moments of seeing your lifeless body flicker in and out of his mind, and here you are. Warm and soft and very much alive.

He can’t stop himself. John brings his other hand up to lightly touch your shoulder, his fingers tracing the slope of your bare collarbone.

Your flinch of surprise to his touch is delayed, your tired eyes widening imperceptibly as they dart to his hand on your collarbone before moving back to his face.

You're not sure what's happening. Sleep still lingers in your mind, muffling your thoughts, slowing your instincts.

"John...?"

The way you say his name, all soft and quiet and surprised, has his heart giving a thump against his chest. John is aware he’s being too forward. He’s your Captain, he shouldn’t be here, this close to you. Touching your bare skin, in your room. It’s not right, it’s not proper. But after waking from those nightmares for the umpteenth time, all he wants to do is touch you. Reassure himself that you’re safe, that you’re real and here standing in front of him.

John can’t look away. In the low light of your room, your eyes still manage to stand out, full of life even when clouded by fatigue. His fingers trail from your collarbone to your jaw, the rough pad of his thumb brushing along the underside of your chin. The contact has you shivering and your eyelids fluttering. You lean into his touch on instinct, heart stuttering in your chest.

He’s suddenly reminded of many a night spent together on a cold ground, of times when you’d curl up beside him and he wrapped his arm around you and kept you warm and safe and alive. He doesn't know if you remember, if you've ever noticed, but he does remember. He craves that feeling again. 

John lets his touch wander down the side of your neck, feeling the quick beat of your pulse. Alive. Alive. Alive.

"What's the matter…?" you whisper drowsily, heavy eyes locking onto his again, your hand reaching up to wrap around his wrist.

He can see the tiredness in your eyes, hear it in the groggy whisper of your words. You don’t seem to register what’s going on, not like he does. The way your hand gently wraps around his wrist causes his heart to miss a beat, a pang of possessive need filling his chest.

��Just-“ he swallows roughly, trying to control the sudden urge to push you down on the bed and cover your body with his own. “Need to make sure you’re okay.”

Your brows furrow at his words, head tilting again in confusion, your doe eyes staring deeply into his.

"Why wouldn't I be?" 

That pout you make when you're confused? He finds it adorable. And you’re pouting now, staring up at him through heavy eyes, not a clue in the world about the memories or the nightmares that have been tormenting him.

John’s fingers grip your chin, holding your face steady so he can look at you. To really look at you. Your soft face, your slightly chapped lips, the dopey eyes that don’t seem to understand.

“I need to make sure,” he repeats. His voice gravelly and deep, rough in a way that even surprises himself.

You blink slowly, sluggishly, keeping your eyes on him despite the urge to close them.

"Cap, I'm all in one piece." you say softly, a hint of protest in your voice. Lazily raising your arms as if to point out that you are in fact all intact, you add, "see?"

The innocent gesture has his stomach twisting. Your top rides up, baring more skin, a slice of your stomach exposed in the dark. When you drop your arms again, the movement causes the fabric to ride up even more, the top shifting along your shoulder and causing the strap to dip down, just enough to show the upper edge of your breast.

John’s eyes fix on the sight, on that sliver of smooth, naked skin. The need to run his hands all over you, feel everything and confirm you’re here, is so strong that he releases your chin and grabs at your forearms instead, fingers curling around your soft flesh.

He pulls you a little closer, until he can look down at you easier. A rough sigh leaves his lips as he gives you a slow glance over. One hand pulls your top back into place. His fingers linger on your bare skin, brushing along the strap.

"I can see that.” 

Your stomach flips at the way he grabs onto your forearms, at the way he stares down at you with such intensity. You still can't wrap your head around what's happening; it all feels like a dream, both so vivid and dazed.

With your arms restrained by his grasp, you bend your head to one side and rub the corner of your eye with your shoulder, causing the strap to drop again. This time, he does not slide it back on. 

"Then... Can I go back to sleep?" you ask him softly, quietly, a hint of plea in your voice. A yawn escapes you right after.

John’s grip on your flesh tightens at the sight of your yawn, but it’s the sound of your slight plea in your quiet voice that makes his stomach do a flip.

“Not yet,” he mutters, not sure if he’s doing it to make himself feel better or because he’s enjoying the rush of power it gives him, holding you. “Gotta ask you somethin’ first.”

A breathy groan leaves your lips at his words. Your eyes, heavy and droopy, blink lazily at him.

"What... is... it?"

John’s fingers wander down, tracing along your collarbone again and lingering at your pulse point. You’re so tired and half out of it, that you don’t even seem to realize what he’s doing. He’s having a hard time controlling the urge to pull you against him, wrap himself around you and let the feeling of you pressed against him ease the flashbacks in his mind. You’re so soft and warm beneath his hand. The fact that he’s touching you like this, that he’s touching your bare skin and you’re letting him, is making him feel drunk on power.

“Do somethin’ f’me?”

You simply nod, slowly and mindlessly, bleary eyes drooping and resting for just a moment before you return your gaze to him.

"Whatever you need, sir..." you murmur under your breath, your words garbled from weariness.

Sir.

He nearly winces at the sound of his title coming out of your sleepy mouth. It does something to him, hearing you call him that when you’re like this. Soft and malleable and so compliant in your groggy state.

John is a strong man, but that? That makes him weak. So weak that he almost pulls you flush against him right there and then, to just hold you and feel you, really feel you. His mind immediately conjures up the many things he needs from you, some of which have nothing to do with his nightmares. You’re barely even fully aware of what you’re agreeing to, how vulnerable you are right now... But he takes a deep breath in, keeping his thoughts under control, focusing on the matter at hand.

“Need you to not be so reckless in the future.”

The words are gruff, but there’s an underlying hint of worry in them. He hates how much the sight of you lying limp and wounded in his arms messed with him, screwed with his mind. So much so that he hasn't been able to get some shuteye in months. 

"Reckless?" you parrot, looking lost. Your face lazily scrunches up in a puzzled frown, your eyes dropping to slits. Your mind is too muddled to connect the dots, to realize what he's referring to. The incident that almost took your life is so far off in your thoughts, so far off in time too, that you barely remember it happening at all. The only poignant memory you're left of the event is the large but healed scar on your side.

"Reckless." John repeats, his fingers leaving your collarbone to trace along that one little faint scar on your bicep, his mind instantly reeling with images of that nasty gash on your side he tried so desperately to clog with his hands. “You could have died.”

The rough tone of his voice seems to lift some of the fog from your mind, the words 'you could have died' resonating within you. Your hand twitches, yearning to move to your face and rub your eyes again, but his hold keeps your arms still.

"But I didn't." you whisper, your voice raspy. "And it's been months since."

John's fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around your arms. It's been months since it happened, and he still gets nightmares about cradling your bleeding body in his arms. Even months later, the sight of you being so close to death causes him to jolt awake with his heart hammering in his ribcage. Yes, it has been months, but for him, it happens again and again every fucking night. That moment is ever present in his mind.

“And I don’t want a repeat of it.” He says darkly. John glances down at you again, trying not to get caught up in the sight of you. “I don’t want that to ever happen again.”

You blink at him, his voice making your stomach churn. When he adopts that imposing tone of his, all you can do is nod and whisper, "Yes, sir."

John lets out a low huff out of his nose at the immediate obedience. That sense of power he’d felt earlier spikes, burning hot in his chest. 

He should back away. Let you go back to bed and get some sleep. You’re tired, you’re vulnerable and sleepy… and wearing that goddamn skimpy excuse for a top.

But instead, he hears himself saying: "Lie down... and let me see the wound." 

His order has your fuzzy mind spin. Your tired eyes widen in disbelief and confusion, seemingly regaining some focus.

"T-The scar's perfectly healed, cap. Why would you need to-"

The words stumble from your lips, groggy and tired, as you try to make sense of his demand. He can see the surprise flash in your weary eyes at his request, can feel the way you go to protest against his order. John’s grip on your upper arms tightens, his fingers pressing down into your soft flesh, shutting you up before you can finish your sentence.

“I'm not asking.” he says gruffly, his voice that low, authoritative tone that you’d usually instantly comply with. He moves even closer, making you have to crane your neck to keep looking at him.

“Lie down and show it to me.”

Your breath hitches at the way his grip tightens on your arms, at the way his voice drops gravely as he reaffirms his command.

You only stall for a moment, gulping, doe eyes boring into his, before you gently pull back from his hold and pad to the bed, tiredly easing yourself down onto the mattress. Your fingers roll up the hem of your top to the underside of your breasts, exposing your left side to him.

You’re disoriented and confused, mind fuzzy from sleep, but you still listen to him. You listen to his order. John’s mind is reeling as he takes in the sight of you lying on the bed. You’re obeying him so easily. So readily. And goddamnit, it’s making him feel insane. You’re following his every word like a good little soldier…

John lets his eyes rake down your form on the bed. You look so vulnerable, so soft and tired. It sparks a possessive urge in his chest. His eyes track the way your messy hair splays out on the pillow and the way your top slides up as you bare your skin to him. He follows you to the edge of the bed. His eyes keep flickering down to your stomach, to the bare skin that looks so very soft and warm and inviting.

The mattress dips beneath his weight as he sits down beside you with one knee settled on the bed and the other leg hanging from the edge.

He knows he’s being pushy, taking advantage of you like this, he knows it. You’re half out of it and clearly confused and he’s using it to his advantage. But the nightmares are too fresh on his mind, still replaying in flashes, and you looking so damn vulnerable and soft beneath him right now has all his instincts on edge.

John's eyes hungrily devour the sight of your exposed side, his eyes falling on the soft curves and the pale, fading scar; the wound reduced to a light puckered line, but nonetheless a stark reminder of how close you came to dying. How close he came to losing you.

You lie there, silently, heavy-lidded eyes gazing up at him. Your breathing is slightly altered just like the pace of your heart. Even through the drowsiness, you seem to realize how odd the situation is... The effects John's presence in your room, on your bed, so close to you, have on your tired body are evident. What you can't seem to pick up on is that strange flicker passing across his gaze as he examines your scar.

You keep silent though, simply staring up at him and keeping the fabric of your top rolled up, slightly pulling up your braless breasts with your hand as well, to push them out of the way.

John's eyes follow the way your chest slightly rises and falls with your breath. He notices the way it seems to stutter as his eyes drift over you. He doesn't know what to focus on. Your messy hair sprawled over the pillow, the soft curve of your breasts just barely exposed as you lift up the fabric of your top, your bare stomach and the faded scar. His eyes keep flickering from one part of you to the other, his mind going haywire at the sight of you, vulnerable and lying in front of him like this.

His mind begins to fill up with all kinds of thoughts. Thoughts of taking your top off entirely. Seeing all of you bared to him. Feeling your soft skin against his and running his hands all over you. Feeling your warm body under his own.

No matter how much he tries to resist, he can't refrain from reaching out with his hand and let his calloused fingers graze the bare skin of your scar.

The jolt of your body and the sound of you drawing in a sharp breath has his instincts flare in warning. But you don't recoil, you just look at him with wide, hazy eyes. Your body so close and warm and tense beneath his hand. So responsive to the touch, reacting without you even meaning to.

John's hand continues to graze over the skin of your scar, his thumb rubbing over the skin slowly, gently, feeling the way your stomach flexes beneath his touch. His eyes flicker up from the pale scar to look at your face.

"Does it still hurt?”

"It-" you try to answer, but your voice comes out raspy. That forces you to take a moment to clear your throat and wet your dry lips before trying again. "It itches or tingles from time to time... but it's nothing, really." you admit in a whisper, voice still raw as if reluctant to come out. Your fingers tighten a little on the fabric of the top, keeping it still on your chest.

"I see."

John's fingers keep moving over the scar tissue. Feeling the bumps and ridges of the skin, his eyes fixated on your stomach, on how you respond to his touch. Every breath and twitch and soft gasp makes his entire body flare up. It's a struggle to keep his mind somewhat coherent.

His eyes slowly move to your hands balled into the fabric of the top, the way you're holding on just a little bit tighter. He can tell that you're conscious of the fact that you're not fully clothed and that you're feeling vulnerable. Yet, he can't keep his hand away.

"Does it hurt now?" He reiterates. His hands continue to glide across the scar, fingers slowly tracing along the soft curve of your stomach.

You meekly shake your head in response. Your neck cocked slightly to the side, allowing your gaze to drift to his hand and watch as his fingers travel over your skin, so carefully, tenderly, yet... possessive.

"It... tingles a little." you whisper, muscles flexing again under his touch.

He's intoxicated by the sight of you underneath him, and you're responding so sweetly to his touch. Vulnerable, exhausted, but oh, so soft, warm, and sensitive. It's making him lose his mind, seeing you like this. Feeling your heat against his fingers. Seeing you in that damn top barely cresting just under your breasts.

Without thinking, he shifts on the mattress, leaning down to press his lips on your scar.

You gasp sharply, body arching at the sudden contact. Your tired eyes widen and the fabric of your top falls from your hold as you plant your palms on either side of you on the mattress, slightly lifting your torso from the bed.

John is getting addicted to your noises. To the way you gasp and arch beneath his touch. It's like a sick taste of what it would be like to really have you like this. To have you writhing beneath him, moaning and gasping because of him.

His hand tightens on your stomach. He can feel the muscles flex beneath his touch, the way your body reacts on instinct to his lips on the scar. He doesn't think. He just acts. He kisses the scar again, feeling a sense of possession wash over him at the feeling of your soft skin against his lips.

You flinch again at each kiss, soft gasps falling from your lips as you stare down at him, confused, dazed...

"C-Cap...?" you hesitantly call for him, your voice barely audible, breathless. "W-what are you-"

"Shh."

His free hand comes up to rest on your side, fingers splaying across the skin and holding you in place. Holding you down. He doesn't know what the hell he's doing. He's losing control, feeling drunk just from having you below him, reacting to his touch. Letting him do all these things... letting him take all these liberties without even fighting back.

He shouldn't be doing this. Taking advantage of you like this. But your skin is just so soft, and you're so responsive to him, and he can't stop himself. This is his medicine. His medicine against the nightmares, against the horrible memories plaguing his mind. 

Soft gasp after gasp is falling from your lips, sweet in John's ears. The sound and the sight of your body arching below him, writhing at his every touch, is driving him insane. Your fingers digging into the sheets, your body trembling and shaking in his hold, the way your chest rises and falls with your labored breaths. It's all just so damn good. A stark contrast to the sight that wakes him up every damn night. He needs to see you like this. To have you arching and writhing and gasping under him. To see you alive.

He sucks a hot, slow kiss into the sensitive skin of your abdomen, tasting the salty sweat on your skin. His fingers dig into the flesh at your side, holding you down against the bed and keeping you completely in place. His other hand drifts up slowly, tracing over the soft curve of your ribs, his fingers brushing against the bottom curve of your breast, slipping under the top.

"Oh~!"

The unexpected sensation of his rough fingers touching the delicate flesh of your breast sends your fuzzy thoughts spinning. Is this really happening? You can't think straight. And you're convinced that even without the lethargy of weariness inhibiting your judgment, you wouldn't be able to think clearly. Not with your captain kissing your tummy, cradling your breasts, and keeping you pinned to the bed. Your handsome captain… whom you secretly adore...

Your mewling gasp makes a bolt of heat shoot up his spine and all the blood in his body head straight south. The noise that escapes from your lips has his hand reflexively closing over your breast, his fingers squeezing on the warm, supple flesh. A dark, possessive part of his mind revels in the noises you're making, in the way your body shivers at his touch. In having you pinned down with his hand and mouth on your skin. No fight back, no pushing him away, no words of complaint fall from your lips as he kisses and touches and holds you down with little effort. He would pull away from you if you asked him to, he believes that strongly. He would never hurt you, even with the promise of making you feel better. But you aren't pushing him away. You are not protesting. You're not showing him any signs of objections. And it isn't only because you are worn out. He can see it in your eyes and hear it in the way you respond to his touch. You like it, you enjoy his attention. And that's enough to spur him further.

His fingers delicately caress the smooth curve of your breast, feeling the pillowy and tender flesh just beneath his fingertips. He has lost all sense of control at this point. All sense of reason. All he can think about is how soft you are, how warm and malleable beneath him, how deeply he craves to touch more of you…

He lifts his hands, tugging at the fabric of your top, revealing your chest to his gaze. He can't resist a second longer, and he pounces on your breast, attaching his lips on your hard nipple. His eyes flicker up to your face, taking in your expression, your glazed eyes, the way your back arches up, and your lips part to let those delicious moans escape.

A shiver of pleasure strikes your tired form. One of your hands moves spontaneously to his head, fingers threading in his hair, not to push him away, but to hold him there, against your chest. That provokes a pleased hum to rumble in his throat. It only serves as confirmation that you’re not trying to stop him but rather holding him against you. Encouraging him, even. And he's more than inclined to indulge you.

He's lost every ounce of his restraint at this point. He can't recall why he came to your room in the first place. What was he seeking for? Just to look at you. Or perhaps he subconsciously hoped for more. Now... There is no going back from this. And all he knows is that he's going to make you feel good, make you feel alive and to engrave the sight of you, high on pleasure, into his tortured mind so that it may take the place of any other horrible memories he has of you.

"John..." you whine softly, breathlessly, your half-closed eyes peering down at him, watching as he cradles your breasts and sucks on your nipple, scratching and tickling your sensitive skin with his beard. Your entire body is ablaze, tightening from both fatigue and yearning.

Hearing the sweet quivering sound of your voice uttering his name in the quiet night has his heart thunder in his chest. He keeps his focus on your face, watching how the mist in your eyes seems to intensify. 

He pulls away from your tits with a wet sound just long enough to speak, his voice deep and rough. "Say my name again."

John's mind is slowly slipping into a haze of lust and possessiveness. He's never heard his name sound like that ever before. It's like a drug, something that hooks over his core and keeps him there, wanting to make you utter his name again and again in that pleading tone as if you were begging for more.

He can't take it any longer. Without any warning, he's pulling back from your chest and peeling his shirt off, discarding it as if it was scorching his skin. He doesn’t give you time to register one action, before he rushes onto another. Rough hands grabbing onto the waistband of your shorts and tugging them down in one firm and swift motion.

Your muffled mind struggles to keep up. Droopy, glazed eyes try to follow his movements, your hands idly resting on the mattress, your bare chest raising and falling heavily, mouth open and drawing each breath in quick, quivering gasps. Your newly exposed thighs press together out of instinct, attempting to give you relief from the ache in your core. You can feel the dampness of your panties as they brush against the inner flesh of your thighs. You can feel how aroused you are for him.

John's eyes immediately catch the subtle movement of your legs bending at the knee and rubbing together. And his hands don't take long to follow. He's now hunched over you, his large build dwarfing your smaller, supple body. His hand travels along the inner surface of your trembling thigh, gliding over the smooth skin till his fingers reach the edge of your underwear, then slide across the thin fabric. He can feel the heat and the wetness through the material and that’s enough to trigger a deep groan from the back of his throat, a sound that's somewhere between an exhale and a growl.

This night has gone so far off course he doubts either of you will be able to look at each other the same way after this. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is being with you, and making you feel good. He's not thinking anymore. Thinking has fled his mind. 

He pushes your legs apart, letting his hands run up your thighs towards your center, feeling your muscles tense at his touch.

“Oh, my sweet girl…” he coos, gliding his palm over the expanse of your panties, making you whimper in response, trembling in delight at the contact and his words.

His voice is low, deep, and full of praise as he looks down at you, watching intently the way your body reacts to his touch.

“My pretty girl…”

He repeats the motion, this time with a little more pressure, rubbing the flat of his palm against your clothed heat, watching with a deep, possessive pride the way your thighs shiver and twitch at his touch. He can feel the dampness leaking through the fabric, the heat and the moisture soaking into his skin.

"My reckless, pretty, pretty girl…." he says, his tone firm and territorial, with a tinge of frustration edging it.

He sweeps his hand over the small patch of fabric that covers you, pressing the heel of his palm to your swelling bundle of nerves, drawing a tight circular pattern over it while relishing the way your thighs spasm and your eyelids flutter.

"Giving me such a fright…"

The firm, unyielding pressure of the palm against you sends waves and waves of ecstasy shooting straight to your core. You attempt to speak, to ask him what he means, but only whimpers leave your lips.

He drinks in the sight of you, flushed and breathless, thighs twitching and clenching, chest rising and falling with you heavy breaths, trying to speak but unable to form coherent words. You're so desperate for him, so responsive to his touch, it's making his head spin. He wants to see more of you, he needs it to forget the nightmares. He needs you. 

He moves closer, his hand still firmly rubbing against your heat, fingers curling on the drenched fabric, as he nuzzles your neck and presses scorching, wet kisses all over your skin. His mustaches and beard tease your skin, amplifying the tingling feeling that spreads throughout your body. 

His gaze burns into yours, holding you captive as he moves his palm over your heat in slow, languid circles, watching every expression and twitch of your face from up close, taking every noise that escapes your lips as a hint, making him adjust his touches until he gets the prettiest, loudest moan from you.

"Getting yourself hurt…"

He rubs his hand even more firmly, his palm moving faster and faster, applying more and more pressure on your sensitive nub, as if to emphasize every word he is saying, but it only causes you to lose more focus on his voice.

“Do you have any idea what it does to me… to see you in danger?” he whispers, his voice deep and rough. His free hand slides under your head, to hold onto the nape of your neck. “To see you in pain?”

If you were out of your mind before, you're being totally pushed out of your body now as he takes you closer and closer to the edge. You hear him, you understand what he is saying, but you are unable to form a single thought; you lack the energy to answer or apologize.

Your whole body is buzzing like a live wire, every nerve on fire, your mind blank with primal urges. 

He's watching your face, watching your eyelids flutter with each stroke of his hand, watching your lips part and your tongue slip to moisten them, watching you shiver and writhe under him, whimpering and desperate for release.

"You give me too many damn heart attacks, you know that? Keepin’ me up every night…"

“M’sorry-” you manage to cry out, gazing up at him but battling to keep your eyes open. Your hands find his tensed arm, and cling onto it for support as you feel the knot in your belly tightening, your body arching in anticipation.

Your apology is hardly coherent. He can hear the slur in your jumbled words, feel the tremors in your frame, see your eyes struggling to stay focused, your body arching and bucking and quivering under his touch, your fingers digging into his arm as if you're trying to hold on for dear life.

“I know, doll…” he croons, lips grazing the side of your jaw, close to your ear. You can feel his warm breath fanning your skin, rising goosebumps all over it.

“You’ll be the death of me… but you’re so damn beautiful-”

You look so helpless, so lovely like this. He just wants to give you what you want. His hand grinds against you, harder but steadier, increasing the pressure in a demanding and relentless motion. His eyes keen on watching the way you wriggle and arch, the way your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw falls slack as he ultimately pushes you over the edge.

"That's it, doll... that's it... come for me... my sweet girl…”

Your release is a sight to behold. Your body tenses like a bowstring before you climax, your moans and gasps turning into mewls of his name with the last shred of breath in your lungs, your eyes flying wide open and rolling back in your head, your nails sinking into his arm… then your entire body goes limp. Your legs tremble and spasm beneath him as he guides you through the aftershocks. John doesn't let up, doesn't stop moving his palm, prolonging your peak until you're left spent and boneless, breathing heavily. Only then does his hand slowly come to a halt, brushing one final time over your soaked panties as he lowers his forehead on yours. His breath comes out in ragged gasps, his gaze glued to your pretty face, his fingers leisurely rubbing the back of your head. When he moves slightly to pull back and take you in, he becomes acutely aware of the strain in his bulge, struggling against the confinement of his jeans. He quickly unzips them and lets his stiff length breathe, with him drawing in a shuddering breath as well.

He chances a look at your panties, the possessive pride in him flares up at the sight; the fabric is so drenched it’s become see-through. His fingers gently move over it, his eyes instantly flashing to your face as you protest weakly at the contact. You're still lost in the high, eyes closed, lips parted, and chest heaving heavily. He’s never seen anything more beautiful; the image is going to be forever burnt to the inside of his eyelids. Well, he hopes so. He’d gladly wake up every fucking night at the memory of this, instead.

John watches you for a moment, letting you regain your bearings. If he could, he would keep you in this state, breathless and blissed-out… but he needs more. He’s only had a taste and he’s already addicted.

“You with me, doll…?”

He murmurs the words against your lips, a small, amused smile tugging at his mouth at the way you don’t even pretend to be coherent. You were barely conscious before, he doubts you’ll be able to keep your eyes open for the rest of the night… but he needs you to be present for what comes next.

He dips in and draws your nipple into his mouth, sucking on it before gently nipping it between his teeth, like he’s coaxing you back to consciousness.

You whine softly, eyes fluttering and slowly managing to open up. Your hand instinctively reaches out for his hair. 

Your fingers pull on his short strands just the way he likes it, making his eyes grow dark. And he can’t help but chuckle as he notices your half-lidded attempt at a smile, watching your tired self struggle to lift the corner of your mouth as if it took all your strength to do so.

He reaches down, fingers curling around your jaw and gently shaking it to make sure you focus on him. “There you are…” He coos, his voice deep and gravelly. “Did I wear you out already, sweetdoll?”

You groan, eyes dropping closed again and slowly opening up a few seconds later.

“Hmm… ‘was already worn out-” you slur, voice hoarse and quiet, almost as if it's coming from someplace distant. 

You’re barely lucid, half-conscious, and yet you’re still trying to sass him. That’s his girl.

He chuckles again, shaking his head as he leans in to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck. He’s smiling widely as he presses open-mouthed kisses to your skin, traveling up your jaw, the corner of your mouth, your cheek.

"I know, sweetheart. I know..." He murmurs the words against your temple, his fingers gently stroking the side of your face, caressing over your cheekbones, your eyelashes, your mouth.

"But you're about to sleep on me. Can't have that…"

He wraps his fingers around your jaw and gives it another gentle squeeze. “You’ll have to stay awake a little longer, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?”

He keeps his firm grip on your jaw, waiting patiently for your hazy eyes to focus back on him. The expression you wear, dazed and exhausted, is like something out of his most depraved, shameful dreams.

“I don’t know if I can, John…” 

His expression softens at the sound of your weak voice. He can’t deny that you look downright adorable right now, your eyes droopy and half closed, your jaw slack in his hand, every inch of you vulnerable and malleable in his grasp. 

He lets go of your jaw and gently runs a hand through your hair, smoothing the loose strands away from your face. “Try for me, doll. Can you at least try?”

Your head lolls tiredly against the pillow, following the movement of his hand, a quiet hum leaving your lips. "M'so tired..." Your slurred whisper is barely audible, your voice growing ever distant. Your eyes cross as your eyelids droop again. 

John sighs. He can see the exhaustion in your face, the way your eyes keep wanting to slip close against your will, how much you desperately want to give into the fatigue. You look like you’re about to pass out at any moment now.

His hand keeps on caressing your hair as he weighs his options in his mind, trying to figure out what he should do. He can’t deny that he wants to do so many things to you… One above all, peeling those ruined panties off your legs and burying his face in your wetness, devouring your cunt and every drop of your juices like a man starved and feeling your soft thighs twitch and tremble and clamp against his head. Then he would sink his cock inside your still fluttering walls and watch your spent body come alive again an again and again as he fucks you all night long.

His eyes drop to your thighs, his jaw clenching tight. He can feel his stomach twisting and his erection throb painfully in longing even only at the thought of doing all of that to you. But you’re too exhausted. Too out of it. He wants you to enjoy every second of what he plans to do to you, but in your state you wouldn’t be able to.

His eyes flicker to your face again and he leans in to gently kiss your lips. He feels you respond, even if meekly. He pulls back to look down at you again, your eyes reduced to slits but fixed on him. Your hand lazily reaches up to cradle his cheek. He smiles at the gesture, his heart fluttering in his chest.

Maybe he can do one last thing before you doze off to sleep. 

Carefully, he eases himself down next to you, lying on the mattress on his side and gently moving your body so he’s spooning you.

“Stay awake for me just a couple more moments, hm? Just a couple more, doll.” he croons in your ear as he wraps one strong arm around your middle and moves his other hand to his pants to hurriedly tug them further down, together with his boxers. 

You mumble sluggishly in response, but relax into his warmth, head lolling back, forehead brushing the rough skin of his cheek. He places a firm kiss on your temple while digging his fingers into the soft flesh of your belly and pulling your panties to the side with his other hand. He shifts, bringing his hips closer to yours and letting his hard length rub along the crevice of your ass.

“Mmh… John-?”

He squeezes you harder as he presses his cock against you, moving it up and down a few times before guiding it between your thighs and through your soaked folds. A low groan rumbles through his throat, blending with your weak whimper. His breath fans the side of your face as he gently pushes his groin into your ass, coating his length in your juices, his tip hitting the moist fabric of your panties, eliciting one more exhale from him. He pulls you flush against him until your body is molded into his. Only then does he begin to buck his hips back and forth, letting your drenched folds stroke his cock and your panties tease its head. He won't fuck you, not properly, not while you're not fully present, but he is going to steal one more orgasm from your exhausted body - and pleasure himself in the process - before allowing you to drift off completely.

“It’s alright, sweet girl… It's alright…”

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, nuzzling your skin and planting lazy kisses all over it. John keeps his arm wrapped around your middle and his hand splayed over your soft stomach, holding you in place against his body as he moves leisurely against you. His pace is so slow and steady that it feels like it's lulling you to sleep. That's what he wishes to do; he wants to ease you back to sleep by numbing your nerves with pure bliss. He wants you to collapse with his cock grinding against your cunt, stimulating your swollen nub with each slow, deliberate push.

You’re boneless against him. Moaning ever softly, body too tired to wriggle but tensing up in ecstasy all over again. He can feel the flutter of your stomach under his palm, the quick steady puffs of air leaving your nostrils. John moves his free hand to your hip, letting it glide over your smooth skin until it closes around the underside of your thigh and gently lifts it and places it over his leg. Both of you moan at the new position which lets you both feel more of each other. 

He feels your hips shake and hears your shallow breaths getting louder. He knows you’re already close. That’s good. You’re still awake for it. That's all he wanted. The hand resting on your belly glides down your mound, slipping under the fabric of your panties and touching your heat. He groans at the contact. You’re so fucking wet and hot… The pads of his fingers find your clitoris and start to rub tight circles over it. His lips press into the side of your neck, feeling your pulse, while you squirm faintly at the added stimuli. You make such pretty sounds for him. Soft mewls and moans, whimpers and gasps. Even weak and tired as you are, your body’s still so reactive to him. 

“That’s it, doll… you’re such a good girl…” he praises in a breathless whisper upon your flushed skin. “Stay with me… just a bit longer…”

When his hot breath brushes against your neck, he can feel a shudder go down your spine. He can hear your breathing getting heavier, your body twitching and trembling against him, and the whole feel of you is driving him insane.

It just takes a few more thrusts of his hips and flicks of his fingers for you to come undone again, spasming weakly in his arms - arms that hold you snugly to soothe your tremors. You cum all over his length, letting out a feeble cry so deliciously filthy that it makes his hips stutter. He halts altogether before he can over stimulate you.

“There you go, my sweet girl… There you go…” he coos in your ear, lips brushing against your cheek, before he buries his nose in your hair and drinks in your scent. 

John squeezes you tightly in his embrace until your shakes and ragged breaths subside. He watches your eyelids flutter one more time before they drop and remain closed.

He feels your body sag against his, your muscles going entirely limp in his arms. He keeps you nestled into him, his hand resting on your stomach and softly kneading soothing circles over your scar, while your other leg lies boneless over his. He can hear your breathing even out, slowly falling deep and regular, the warm puffs of air hitting his arm with each exhale. For a few moments, he remains still, listening to the sound of your breathing, feeling the rise and fall of your chest… trying to figure out if you’re still conscious, but your soft even breaths confirm to him you’ve finally fallen asleep.

He glances down at your serene expression, eyes closed and lips parted. Even in the shadows, he can see the light drool trickling from the corner of your lips. You’re completely knocked out.

John takes a few deep shaky breaths, his fingers digging into your hip. He allows himself a few more thrusts, taking care not to disturb your sleep. It’s not long before he falls apart, dumping his load inside your undies and muffling his moan with your hair.

He takes a few moments to regain his bearings, breathing deeply, getting drunk on the scent of you and him mixing together. Then, with great care, he fixes your clothes on your unconscious body, as well as his own pants, and wraps your form in his muscular arms, pressing every inch of you against him, until you're completely enveloped in his embrace.

He can’t help but notice how right it feels to hold you like this, to have you nestled against his chest, protected and secure in his arms.

A content sigh escapes his lips.

Closing his eyes, he knows this time no nightmare will jolt him awake. Not with you, warm, soft, and alive, sleeping soundly in his arms. Not with the steady drumming beat of your heart drowning out the demons in his mind.

With one more kiss brushed upon your bare shoulder, he whispers, "Sleep tight, sweetheart." before succumbing to his own exhaustion.

MORE STORIES 🥀

Please also consider leaving a tip on my ko-fi if you want to (but mostly can) support me, thank you ❤️

[minminyoonjii]

hey! how are you? i hope you’re doing well :D

i just found your account yesterday and can’t stop reading everything on your masterlist i recently started getting into fan fiction and i love your writing style so much!

idk if your requests are open since i’ve never done this before but i wanted to make a request for ot8 caregiver!stray kids and little f!reader where they help the reader fall asleep because she’s been really stressed lately.

take your time if you do choose to write about this <33

❤️Ultimate Masterlist

💜Rules and Guidelines

🧡Stray Kids Scenarios Masterlist

🌹CW

Wholesome|Domestic Settings|Fluffy|Anxiety|Stressed Reader|Frustrated Reader|Says 'I hate you' in Hyunjin, not him|Grumpy Little|Tooth Rotting Sweet

💌 This is a work of fiction, I by all means don't force ship anyone. They have the right to love whomever they want.

🍄Wordcount: 1.3K

Bang Chan

"What are you doing up, hm? It's past your bed time, little one," Chan whispered, stroking your hair. You clutched your plush tight, "Bed uncomfy," you grumbled, kicking off your blanket. Chan studied your behavior, "Do you want to sleep in your crib today?" he asked, thinking perhaps your bed felt too big. You reluctantly nodded, "But crib is for babies," you murmured, curling up. Chan easily lifted you in his arms, "Little ones' like you have special powers. They can sleep anywhere they want," he said, kissing your forehead. You looked up at him, "Really, Daddy?" you asked, innocent curiosity sparkling in your exhausted eyes. Chan chuckled, laying you down in the crib, "Of course, baby," he whispered, tucking the blanket to your sides and placed your plush right back in your arms. A big yawn escaped past your lips. "Eepy baby," Chan cooed, brushing back your hair. You nuzzled into your plush, your eyes droopy from sleep. A soft smile etched his lips, "Shh, shh, shh. Just close your eyes, baby. Daddy will be right here," he whispered, gently coaxing you to sleep.

Lee Minho

"Cupcake? Where have you gone?" Minho called out, looking around the dorm. You bit you bottom lip, hiding to silence your weak sniffles. Minho caught notice of your sounds, "Mama's not mad that you're still awake. He's just very worried, cupcake," he whispered, following the soft sniffs. He pulled back the curtain, only to see you curled up beneath with your face buried within plushie. "Aigo-yah. Who made my little cupcake cry, hm?" he cooed, carrying you against his chest. Your sniffles, broke his heart. "Tell mama what's wrong. Little cupcakes like you shouldn't have to struggle alone," he coaxed, hoping you'd talk. "Can't eep," you whispered, nuzzling his shoulder. Minho sighed in relief, "Did you get frustrated?" he asked, kissing your forehead. You nodded, your eyes heavy from crying. Minho bounced you in his arms, "Mama's here now. You can sleep, my little cupcake," he whispered, bouncing you until your soft snores echoed within his ears.

Seo Changbin

"Baba!" you wailed, alerting Changbin's panic. "Are you hurt? Are you okay?" he questioned, examining your entire body. You sniffled, looking up at him, "Baba, help," you whispered, scarying him even more. Changbin felt his heart sink, "Oh, agi-ah. What can Baba do, agi?" he whispered, wiping your tears. You wrinkled your nose, "Baba eep wif me," you slurred, sleep begging you to rest but the stress kept you restless. Changbin bit back a chuckled, "Aww, you couldn't sleep, agi?" he whispered, tucking himself next to you. "Ahm," you hummed, burying yourself into his strong safe hold. "You're going to be the death of me," he whispered under his breath. You curled up against his chest, soft snores leaving your exhausted body. Changbin kissed your cheek, "Sweet dreams, uri agi-ah," he whispered, falling asleep with you.

Hwang Hyunjin

You tossed and turned in your bed. Annoyance growing gradually as you lose more and more minutes of sleep. Hyunjin opened your door to check up on you. What he didn't expect was a glaring little one. "Lovely, why are you still awake?" he whispered, walking towards you cautiously. "I hate you," you grumbled, frustrated with everything within your vicinity. Hyunjin's eyes widen, "We don't say hate in this household, love," he said, trying to correct your behavior when you threw Jiniret right at his chest. "Go away!" you exclaimed, angry tears forming in your eyes. Hyunjin sighed and carried you up, "I think you need some fresh air," he said placing you plush on your chest. You squirmed in his hold, "No, no, no!" you sniffled, restless from underlying stress and frustration. Hyunjin grunted but held you tighter, "Look up, lovely," he whispered, walking out the back door. You clenched your jaw and did as told. The sight of stars and the cool night breeze surrounded you in a comforting embrace. You rubbed your eyes, sleep latching on your eyelids. Hyunjin exhaled in relief as you began drifting off, "Sleep well, naughty love. Papa knows you best," he whispered, enjoying the night breeze with you in his arms.

Han Jisung

You exhaled deeply, your joints aching "Hhgh," you whined. You grabbed your plush and waddled your way towards Jisung's room. "Appa," you whispered, knocking on his door. Jisung opened it with a worried expression, "What's wrong, sweetheart?" he asked, letting you into his room. You fidget your fingers, "Can't sleep," you whispered, your anxiety weighing heavy on your chest. Jisung gave you a sympathetic smile, "Well, you don't have to sleep right away, sweetie. Do you want to watch a movie with Appa?" he asked, setting up his phone stand. You nodded, "Can we watch Totoro?" you whispered, crawling onto the bed. Jisung opened his arms, "Of course, sweetheart. Come here, come into Appa's comfy arms," he chuckled, seeing you plop yourself right on his chest. Jisung gave you a big squeeze, "One studio ghibli, coming right up," he said, kissing your nose as you both watched the movie.

Lee Felix

"Oh my goodness, sunshine. It's way past your bedtime," he chastised, taking your phone from you. "But-," you said, only to get cut of by Felix's stern tone. "No buts, little sun. The moon has come out to play so little lights like you should be resting in bed," he said, gently tucking you back in. You stared up at him, "I don't feel comfy," you mumbled, tossing and turning for a comfortable spot. Felix pursed his lips, "How about this, mommy will carry you to the couch. You get yourself all comfy like you usually do for nap and if you manage to fall asleep in that position, mommy will carry you back to bed after a few hours," he said, knowing sometimes you needing a more confined place to sleep in. You nodded and raised both your arms. Felix chuckled, carrying you with your favorite plush, "Now let's get our little sunshine the rest they deserve," he whispered, pampering kisses on your face as he goes.

Kim Seungmin

Your head throbbed, hindering your sleep. You crawled out of bed and wobbled to the kitchen for a medkit, "There," you whispered, taking out some pain killers. Seungmin stood behind you, "Why are you still up?" he asked, scaring you into dropping the pills. You flinched, "Seung, you scared me," you whispered, holding your pounding chest. He chuckled and picked up the pills scattered around, "Sorry but you have yet to answer my question," he said, handing you the medicine. You blew on them and took them, "I had a headache," you whispered, rinsing your glass. Seungmin nodded, "Do you need my help? Dada has ways to sooth his little munchkin," he said, rubbing your nape. You gulped, "Dada don't mind?" you whispered, slowly slipping into the comfortable headspace you love. He shook his head, "Dada doesn't mind at all," he reassured, rinsing your pacifier and clipped it against your pyjamas. You immediately took it and popped it into your mouth. Seungmin chuckled and booped your nose, "Time for bed, little munchkin. Just relax, Dada has everything under control," he said, patting your head.

Yang Jeongin

"Ninnin," you whimpered, crawling into his lap. Jeongin pulled you close, "Are you feeling okay, angel?" he whispered, rubbing your tummy. You melted into his arms, "Body achy," you whispered, feeling the aftermath of your stress lingering in your body. Jeongin frowned, "That can't do," he said, laying you down the the couch. You buried your face into your plush, exhausted coaxing your mind. "Just relax, okay. You're in good hands, my little angel," he whispered, kneading your back and shoulder. Soft whines and gasps escaped your lips. Jeongin cooed, seeing your sleeping face, "That's it, just sink deeper and deeper into the feeling," he cooed, rubbing your calves and knees. You hissed when he massaged your knees, "Hah, owie," you whined, squirming away. Jeongin smiled softly, "Sorry, angel. Do you feel sleepy now?" he whispered, patting your bum like a parent would for an infant. You nodded, snoring softly as your drifted off to Dreamland.

[shortkingvince]

Solomon's Lovely Apprentice

Minors DNI

Pt. 2

Solomon wanting to be bred knowing full well it would be impossible to get him pregnant, and the fact he wouldn't even want to actually be pregnant if it WERE possible, but loving the idea of being pounded so hard it defies biology...

Dom!Top!MC x Sub!Bottom!Solomon

Warnings: Solomon has a breeding kink without actually wanting to get pregnant, he just wants to be pounded to death, he wants to be the one to be bred, reader is amab. Pronouns are gender neutral.

No actual sex in this part, just Solomon's imagination running wild. An old man can dream.

Also I wrote this at 3 am with a wrist brace on due to an injury, Obey Me brainrot hit so hard that I defied such weakness /j

This is being posted at 4 am, I am eepy deepy

Solomon: Am I pregnart? /ref (This is not an MPreg fic, I don't do pregnancy fics in general, I just thought it would be silly to write Solomon desperately wanting to be bred until he can't even think)

Yes there will be a part two

NSFW under the cut

Pants filled the air, frustration welling up in the white-haired sorcerer as he desperately palmed at the tent in his pants. This had been happening far more often lately, his fantasies running wild each time he thought about you, his favorite apprentice.

He found himself rushing off to his room regularly now, unable to keep his thoughts of you at bay. He always looked so composed on the outside, but it felt like he had a raging wildfire on the inside. One that only you could quell.

He had been dropping hints here and there. Some were less obvious, with others being so obvious that he knows there's no way you aren't playing dumb on purpose. He had been doing everything he could to rile you up and get you to just take him then and there, but each attempt ended in failure.

His mind drifted away from his frustrations for a moment, fantasizing about the things he wanted you to do to him. He thought about you finally, finally bending him over and practically ripping his clothes off, giving him barely any time to use a spell to sound proof his room and lock the door.

His cock only continued to protest against the confines of his clothing. In one quick move he all but ripped his pants and boxers off, just how you did in his fantasy but without the damage to his clothes. He thought about how you'd waste no time in touching him, exploring his body and the markings he had from all the pacts he was in.

You'd trace each one, teasing him as your faint touches only fueled the blood rushing to his weeping cock. You'd trace your hand around his thighs, going so close to where he wanted you before you pulled back, staring down at him like he was some piece of prey.

He could barely control his breathing as fantasy you went back again and squeezed one of his thighs, making him let out a shaky breath. He finally let his hand start to travel towards his cock, imagining it was yours instead. Fuck, he needed you. The demon brothers were always dragging you away, giving him little time to have you for even a day.

The frustration that was building up at that thought vanished as soon as he touched his cock, making him let out a small gasp of surprise, as if it wasn't his own hand touching him. His eyes were squeezed closed as he continued to imagine you, your strokes were slow and teasing, circling the head of his cock every so often. It felt like you were trying to drive the poor man mad.

He suppressed a shiver as "you" suddenly circled a finger around his rim, hearing "you" mutter a spell that lubricated your fingers as you teased the outside of his entrance. Normally he'd be embarrassed by the moan he let out as his finger breached his hole in reality, but he couldn't care less since all he could focus on was you in his imagination. He gave himself a moment to adjust before he started to move the finger inside of him, and he couldn't stop himself from imagining how you'd look at him as you fingered him. How you'd mock and tease him for getting so worked up over one finger. Or maybe you'd coo at him, telling him how pretty he looks under you. Either one was driving him wild as he slipped a second finger inside of himself.

He started off slow at first, using his fingers to drag along his insides in a way that made him shiver. It wasn't long before his patience ran thin though, quickly ramming his fingers inside and out of him as he moaned your name into his empty room, the wet squelching causing his face to heat up in embarrassment at how he was acting, but he just couldn't stop himself. He used his other hand to tug at his cock, stroking himself fast as he got closer to his release.

It wasn't enough, it just wasn't enough. He needed your cock so badly. He needed to be bred by you even though he knew it was physically impossible for him to get pregnant. Hell, he didn't even WANT to get pregnant if he could, but the thought of you fucking him so hard and deep that it defied the literal laws of nature turned him on so badly that it hurt. He needed your cum deep inside him, pounding your seed from previous rounds even deeper into him until he couldn't even think properly.

He couldn't stop himself from letting out a deep moan as he finally came all over his shirt, having forgotten to remove it earlier in his frantic state. Once he finally snapped back to reality and gently pulled his fingers out of him, he couldn't help but cringe at the feeling of his cum seeping through his shirt. That only made him think about what you'd say if you saw him so desperate like this though, frustration welling up again as he felt himself rub his thighs together.

Fuck.

He used a spell to clean his hands quickly as he grabbed his DDD, searching for your name as he finally sent you a message.

monSOLO: "Please, I need you so badly, just come over and fuck me already."

monSOLO: "I know you've seen my hints. I've seen how you look at me when I've given you them. Come over. Please."

monSOLO: "I know you're reading my messages right now. Fuck...come over. Please."

He was almost ready to give up and accept defeat until he suddenly saw the three moving dots signifying you were typing. He gripped his phone as if it would slip from his hands any moment. His cock slowly started to twitch back to life as he read your message.

MC: "I'm coming over right now. I hope you aren't planning on using your legs too much tomorrow, I'm not letting you go until I've drained every last drop I have into you."

Fuck. You truly were going to drive him mad, in the best way he could ever ask for from his lovely apprentice.

[fallen-goldfishcracker]

The companions on whether they are morning people or not

Lae'zel: absolutely a morning person are you kidding me? She was raised in the military. She's never heard of sleeping in. That's for weak ghaik. Is consistently annoyed when the other companions sleep in. 

Wyll: morning person but likes to sleep in when he can. But he's always frickin doing Stuff™ so he can't. Monsters don't sleep in so neither can he. He likes early morning cuddles though. 

Shadowheart: a completely unpredictable force. The kinda person you find awake at 4 AM and there's no way to know if they just got up or stayed up. Gets up early and stays up late and goes to bed early and sleeps in late completely indiscriminately. 

Gale: the furthest from a morning person you can get. This guy was up until 3 reading random academic disputations in a field he does not study. If he doesn't have to, he's not getting up. 

Astarion: The Morning Person. beats Lae'zel out for "gets up insufferably early". On one hand, he has an advantage because he doesn't need to sleep like anyone else, but mainly he likes watching the sunrise every morning after not having it for two centuries, and it's very upsetting for him when he misses it. 

Karlach: she is not a morning person or a night owl she is A Sleeper™. She's eepy. She can get up early (not a lot of safe sleeping in the Hells), but now that she's out she's not getting up unless there's an massive disaster. Will sleep anywhere. Big snorer.

[valentine-cafe]

i’m drunk as i write this req, but hear me out. valerius, 9819 jingyi and 209 haitao (+luuleriel) with a reader who’s like the biggest sleepy + clingy drunk. like the reader is more hyperactive without alcohol so everyone thought that they would be an emotional drunk but in reality, they’re super mellowed down and sleepy and would just cling onto them. plus points if they were already clingy to begin with too yknow?

˖⁺. ﹙ multi monster bfs  x gn reader. ﹚ .𖹭 ݁

. . . let's get you home baby !! 🍒 :  drunk reader﹙ multi characters. ﹚

switching to chaotic to calm when drunk

﹙ Valerius. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 :

A blonde brow twitches as your smaller form stumbles into his arms. They wrap around you in concern and curiosity. You have already been clingy with him the way he has, either in subtle or obvious ways.

But now, you cling to him, with hooded eyes that gaze up at him fondly. Sleep threats to come over you each hiccup that twitches at your chest. The alcohol dances you around in a tango, swaying you from side to side in your boyfriend's hold.

"Eepy." Your voice muffles into his shirt and draws a quiet chuckle out of him. Before you know it, your feet dangle far above the ground, as Valerius picks you up to get out of the party you both were attending, so that he can get you home to get some sleep and cuddles.

"Want anything on the way home my love?"

"Kiths. . . "

Oh you made him weak in the knees even when a drunken mess in his arms.

  ﹙ Haitao 209. ﹚. . . !! 🍓 :

Is quick to take you back home from the party at the resistance head quarters you had both been attendees to. He is not used to the sight of you being drunk, much less so quiet. The clinginess is what he recognises but the mellowed state?

"Are you alright baobei?" He calls quietly, looking down at you in slight concern, much like the demon that resides within his mind.

Luu'leriel was from the realm of the most abhorrent creatures alive, hence it's name, realm of the abhorrent. Of course. Yet perhaps living inside of someone who experiences care and love for the people close to him, it slowly started getting to him too whenever something happens to you or you begin acting out of it.

Yet all you do is look up at both of them with a sheepish, drunken smile to reply: "I'm oaky," hiccup and stumble. You cuddle close to the man who guides you through the streets with care to get back home, his coat tossed over your shoulders to warm you up.

"I louvvv you ge-ge!" You chuckle, only to coo quietly to yourself when you earn an affectionate eyeroll from your boyfriend and a little laugh from the demon you love so dearly

  ﹙ Jìngyí 9819. ﹚. . . !! 🍒 :

Became extremely gentle with you the second he noticed the change in your personality. Let you cling as much as you want to as well.

He was quick to take you away from wherever you guys had been and make his way back to the clocktower with you to reassure you got some proper rest and as many cuddles as you want. Each hour he'd bring you some food whenever he noticed you had faded out of sleep.

"Oh Xin. . . " He hushes quietly, as his thumb moves across your brow gently. "You should get some more rest, yes?"

He can't help but not laugh a little when you give him a big sheepish smile and hug onto him for comfort. If giving you cuddles means you fall asleep then he will throw himself into bed at any given moment to help you sleep.

He makes sure you are taken care of at any given moment whenever you get like this. Loud noises? He takes you away, bright lights? They're immediately dimmed. You're hungry? Call for him and he will be there with any of your favourite foods and snacks in mere seconds. Anything to assure you feel okay.

[cronxl]

im. so ill. where does one even begin with?? like

// WL FINALE SPOILERS‼️ (finale yap 💔)

ok. firstly: shiny duo (+ cleo :3) things. (totally not bc im so insane abt them. 100% hahahdvav fucking explodes)

WE DIDNT GET MURDER CAMEL. NOOOO WE WERE SO CLOSE TO THEM HAVING AN ALLIANCE. + CLEO (live laugh luv cleo) WE COULD'VE HAD A NEW KIND OF 3 G'S (w/o this blue haired FREAK /aff i need scott to explode) GASLIGHT, GIRLSLAY (or girlmurder. idk man they both fit methinks), AND GIRLBOSS. (ignore this im posting at 2am. very energetic and also eepy)

THEY ARGDHQ GEM CALLED PEARL PATHETIC AND CUTE AND STILL TRYING TO 1V1 HER. PEARL TELLING GEM THAT HER SNAIL IS LITERALLY NEXT TO THEM EVEN THO SHE WAS TRYING TO KILL GEM. ALSO. WHEN GEM SAW THE G'S AT HER BASE SHE LITERALLY SPECIFICALLY CALLS PEARL. GIRL THEIR WHOLE ALLIANCE IS THERE AND YET THE ONLY PERSON THAT YOU TRULY NOTICE IS PEARL. OK GEM. 😔🤨 NOT THEM CALLING EACH OTHER'S FULL USER. UAGH. THEY MAKE ME SICK.

cough she def misses being w pearl. cough (it goes both ways for them. they miss eachother sm trust) she wants that cookie so bad its actually sososososos insanely painful to watch. i should get a degree in studying whatever the fuck theyve got goin awn. the fact its unresolved is an added thing in there.

moving on bfore i get shiny duo severe stage 10 brainrot. secondly: JOEL WIN. ACTUALLY CRAZY. (<- hes crazy. like genuinely.)

i didnt think that he was gonna win tbh. since yk lizzie is his weakness and lizzie wouldve used that to kill him. honestly if grian hadnt killed lizzie she wouldve probably killed him i think. and lizzies advice to joel to not get scott is so sweet actually <3 imagine trying to kill your husband but at the same time your lowk also looking out for him. she noticed the pattern of him always losing when getting scott wjjwbfm jizzie is os.. precious uaghhqphqvsb

ALSO ‼️ HE AND GRIAN MAKE SUCH A GOOD DUO. I THINK THEYVE TEAMED UP BEFORE ON LIKE LAST LIFE?? I THINK. I WAS ALWAYS WATCHING PEARLS POV. ianfbwnbsl life series brainworms r working overtime on this. too bad im on the verge of eeping.

AND thirdly: the wildcard. er wildcards.

the wildcards returning for the finale is great dont get me wrong. its jst. i guess at the end where all of the wildcards are activated its jst. so much?? like everything happening is too much at the same time yk? i think thats mostly the problem. bc. everyone has to deal with all these deadly wildcards adding up gradually causing some of the players their last life. which i think makes it more.. unsatisfactory? kind of? since the finale for others werent going out in pvp or traps and allat but the wildcards.

all of them happening at the same time is a bit overwhelming?? or maybe its jst me but theres too much going on every moment and such. its jst hard to actually focus/try to kill ppl? we have the slow to speedy thingy happening, the mobs dying and changing, which causes a lot of lag and deaths (gem to a vex is an example of this) cus theres a bunch of mobs to look out for, the trivia bot coming down sometimes at the worst possible moment (a snail chasing u n all), theres also the superpower card its kinda not been properly or well used during all this, and snails since they did end some series and caused a bunch of deaths in their past of being the main wildcard.

and: shiny duo again bc i cant not end this talking abt the wildcard(s) and i love them (sadly true)

them both keeping the bit where gem complimented her red skin. gem saying that she loves pearls red outfit sm. pearl trying to douse gem when her alliance tried to kill her and burn her w lava while they were talking. jsksnwnwbqle ims o sick.

lastly: lizzie having cleos superpower. i am having THOUGHTS abt this.

LIZZIE HAD CLEOS SUPERPOWER. ODLWNWNFNBWKFLD didya guys know that i was more of a shadowrot fan when i started watching last life? now you know !!

kqnebwbf fn also. the shadowrot is being revived w this series. no more thoughts abt shadowrot bfore i get forced into a psych ward.

honorary mention: cleo reaction to pearl getting killed by grian (ignoring the heartache bc i love skyblings sm. uaghhh).

when pearl got killed by grian, cleo ran straight for him. she ignored joel who was stabbing her in the back (literal). she tried so hard to blast grian off that cliff. i dont think she was trying to protect ren, who was getting chased by grian. she didnt yell at him, she was jst quiet and absolutely pissed that pearl died. i mean who wouldnt tbf. pearl was the only remaining teammate of the main 4 g's afterall. ohhhhshdbwb my moonrot heart has been revived.

the life series gals should team up next season i mean WHAT WHO SAID THAT.

[yaekiss]

Oh damn shout out to 🪻anon. im gonna try and not spend every moment.thinking about blade and mydei competing

also qi. qi. pretty please. share resurrection thing. 🥺. if u want. but please. but only if u wanna. but 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺 🥺

im eepy i givr u kisses now (*‘ω‘ *)💛

reallll 🪻 nonnie is not only cooking irl but also cooking w the blorbo ideas 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🧑‍🍳🧑‍🍳🧑‍🍳

anyways! the resurrection thing!! half-baked yandere plot idea under the cut! I typed a whole 400 ramble in a dm to myself LOL so forgive me if the formatting or pacing is awful. [post writing qi here. this thing is no longer 400 words...]

You wake up disoriented, unable to remember what happened before you... Passed out? The floor is nice and polished and clean elsewhere except for the spot you laid on. It's a little grimy and darkened but oh well. At least you're not in pain.

You inspect yourself for injuries. Something's definitely wrong when you look down and. Alarm floods through your system.

This isn't your body.

???? What happened? You wrack your brain for memories but all you can remember are snippets from before you blacked out. Despite your best efforts, you can't recall anything that deductively explains this jarring situation.

You'd try to find more clues however, you're snapped out of your thoughts when someone walks into the room, eyes widening as they see you. "You're awake...!" They rush over from the doorframe, immediately fretting over you, asking if you feel alright, if anything hurts.

Although the person's appearance was sudden, a sense of familiarity seems to rise up within you. You're not close friends with them but maybe you've seen them around in passing somewhere? ...Or maybe it has something to do with the person whose body you're inhabiting?

You're now presented with an internal dilemma: Do you confess the truth or play it cool? The person fussing over you right now probably knew the person whose body you're in well, if not, why would they be so touchy? Confessing the truth would backfire, given how much they care for "you". But obviously you're still missing a lot of info about "yourself", so you play it off as a temporary sort of memory lost (hey makes sense after waking up right from something bad enough to worry someone so much over right?) to try and understand more about this situation you've been thrust into.

Feigning weakness, you put a hand up to your head, "Where am I...? What happened?" The person's brows furrow but straighten out again before you can remark on it

"Oh, you poor thing you..." Rambling on and on about something like a high fever or overworking yourself to exhaustion something something.

"I thought I'd never see you again, dearest," their voice carries a hint of grief, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you while you recover." They sound so earnest, and it breaks your heart at the implications.

Well, that settles it then. You've unwittingly taken the place of your poor saviour's loved one. The guilt gnaws at you but you shove it back and rationalise that it's best to stay put and find clues to make the swap back to your old self.

The days pass by in a blur when you're made to play pretend. Maybe it's pure luck when they don't notice anything at all odd with your mannerisms. But sometimes, you can't help but feel uneasy at their blatant disregard and indifference to actions or habits that you've definitely butchered.

It all culminates when you try to leave the house. Perhaps you've gotten fed up with this precarious game of charades. Or you've reached dead end after dead end, unable to find any hints that'll fix this whole situation.

And you're almost out of the place when a door creaks open, rooting you to the ground where you stand. You feel arms snaking and hugging you from behind. Their voice right next to your ear, low and frighteningly calm.

"Where are you going...?"

When you don't reply, not even gracing them with a look, they nuzzle as best as they can into the crook of your neck. Their words muffled, breath slightly warm on your skin as they say, "I can't lose you again."

Their affection is misplaced. You're tired of the constant guilt and pretense. Temper crackling you whirl around to face them head on. Something that you reckon you should have done a lot earlier.

"I'm not even who you're thinking of! I'm a complete stranger!"

They try to reach out and hold you but you shove them off, causing them to slam against the door leading out. So much for leaving, you don't even know where they keep the keys.

However, most of all, you can't stand the way they're looking at you right now. There's no trace of confusion despite the nonsense you've just spat out.

As if they've seen right through you from the start.

Against your better judgement, you run and duck into a side room, hoping to buy some time or sneak out through a side window. Anything just to get away from their searing gaze.

Surveying your surroundings, your eyes slowly adjust to the dimmer lights of this room, contrasted with the brighter lights in the house outside.

Only to find small belongings from your original life (can you even call it that?) littered throughout. They cover the table that's next to a shelf full of books in an indecipherable language. Pictures of you are pinned and arranged on the walls.

Nausea sets in within you. Nothing makes sense.

The door to the room opens and clicks shut softly.

"What is the meaning of this," your voice barely above a whisper, "I don't understand."

They shift to take the spot next to you, taking your hand and entwining your fingers together. They croon out your name, dripping with saccharine, cloying, revolting, sweetness.

"They couldn't find your body you know. It drove me mad." Their other hand mindlessly traces designs up your arm, tone lighthearted despite the topic.

"I was in such a fugue state, I barely even realised what I was doing... Not until I had the whole spell drawn out on the ground." They say so nonchalantly, as if bringing you back from the dead was nothing to them.

Mustering up the courage to pry your eyes away from the shrine they've made for you, you turn to look at them, clinging to your side. Their gaze is trained on you wholeheartedly, lashes lowered as they drink up your attention.

You must be losing your mind because the shadows behind them seem to flicker in and out strangely, inexplicably distorting the surroundings around the both of you like a scorching summer heat wave. Sweat starts to prickle on the back of your neck despite the temperatures in the room plummeting. Cracking open your mouth, you ask.

"Whose body is this?"

HOLY MOLY that. uhm. this got out of hand. this is no longer the original 400 words. anyways I initially wrote this with kylar (dol) in mind so ask me again if you want the more kylar parts LOLL I cut them out for this... also below are just some basic outline pointers I wrote for myself too and I just wanted to chuck em somewhere:

(the character lies to you to get you to trust them) (reader believes them and is sooooo guilty at somehow stealing the place of their lover's consciousness but has to play the part) - {both reader and character are playing pretend but they don't know each other are part of the same game} {character is playing up their innocence so they don't scare you off and you love them back} {reader is playing up the loving role to ultimately survive and get their life back and/or escape}

ok thank you for asking to see the resurrection idea thingy ainsel luv u 2 <333 please please please tell me what you think of this brainfart of mine........ [pleading eyes]

[caliburn-not-calculator]

Shaking MR-SN, shaking him so much

We see so little of his characterisation but I am chewing on every bit there is

I’m like, really hung up on this one line of K-LB’s, ‘he never took no for an answer’. And like, MR-SN is so good and inspiring and kind and such a dreamer but that one thing… I know I’m probably overthinking it but it’s just

A flaw

I’m too tired for fancy words but I have him in a cocktail shaker clanging around

He’s so determined and such a dreamer that of course he’d see what he believes to be the the best, right and true choice and then refuse anything else. He doesn’t take no for an answer cause he’s an unrealistic idealist with a head full of dreams. What makes him so inspiring and such a good leader and someone people gather around to follow is the exact same quality that most taints him…

Anyway I think this might all be actually very surface level but I am eepy and brain is soup and agrhdhgrhrv

Love a double edged character traits

I love when you’re greatest strength is your greatest weakness

I’m now thinking of all other kinds of ways said flaw of not knowing when to back down or accept defeat or consider for once that maybe he cannot do the thing he wants to do could come into play

Fuuuck, the reason why DX-TR followed him being the reason he betrayed him. He followed him because of all the above traits and then betrayed him cause he wouldn’t make the pragmatic functional choice DX-TR thought was necessary… MR-SN always thinking he is right, that he knows the way, always so convicted (don’t even get me started on conviction as a theme with rwd) and then everything falling apart when he’s wrong about his closest and oldest friend and suddenly everything isn’t so ideal and maybe he pushed too far and maybe he should have seen all the nos the universe was telling him and then maybe he wouldn’t have died for it…

Idk guys

Anyway, Himb

[meowmeowgrrrl123]

Got KNY role swap AU brainrot,,,

The Hashira would be as follows:

Kokushibo- Moon Hashira

Douma- Flower Hashira

Akaza- Mist Hashira

Gyokko- Water Hashira

Sekido- Rumble Hashira

Karaku- Wind Hashira

Aizetsu- Stone Hashira

Gyutaro- Insect Hashira

The Moons would be as follows:

Upper One- Gyomei

Upper Two- Sanemi

Upper Three- Kyojuro

Upper Four- Obanai

Upper Five- Muichiro

Upper Six- Shinobu

Lower One- Mitsuri

Lower Two- Giyu

Lower Three- Kanao

Lower Four- Tanjiro

Lower Five- Kaigaku

Lower Six- Kyogai

The demons I didn’t use would be younger or lower ranking slayers. Hantengu was previously the Rumble Hashira but is retired and has severe PTSD and anxiety, Urogi is working on developing Sound Breathing along with Nakime, and Zohakuten has only just passed Final Selection with his Serpent Breathing. They’re all brothers except for Hantengu who is their grandfather. Daki is Water Breathing I think but overall she’s a weak-ass slayer. Rui is Gyutaro’s tsuguko and Enmu is a Kakushi and he’s like totally delusional.

Instead of the Butterfly Mansion being the hospital, it’s Akaza’s Cloud Estate.

Genya is still a slayer and he’s sworn that he will kill Sanemi as both revenge for their family, whom Sanemi killed, as well as to just put Sanemi out of his misery. He also helps out at the Cloud Estate a lot, since Akaza doesn’t like getting help from people and takes on way too much at once.

Nezuko is a slayer and carries around a lil tiny demon Zenitsu on her back. Her brother, Tanjiro, was turned into a demon and he is very rapidly rising through the ranks of Moons. Nezuko is desperate to find a way to turn Tanjiro back and is helped by her friends Aoi and Murata.

Inosuke is a demon too, but he’s super isolated and very protective of his mountain territory.

Also Kyojuro was once a slayer himself but ended up becoming a demon. Not sure how yet. But there aren’t any flame breathers bc he became a demon before he could pass it on and he killed his brother and father as well.

I wanna keep going but now I’m sooooo eepy. I’ll write more tomorrow

Edit 7/25/2024: Part Two of my notes are up now