#(but that is genuinely just for my own comfort & i like the discomfort when i talk about them in detail!!!)

[poniko-w]

⚠️GETTING AUTISTIC ALERT⚠️

one of my absolute favorite things abt mo4 is understanding just how terrible a lot of the main cast is.. i've changed fukurou and morikaze to be more normal in my mind for my own comfort (as someone still recovering from trauma), but am still heavily critical of their characters as i am with every other main numa!! i love discussing the intricacies of the mo4 cast without defending any of their actions, and i really dislike when people mischaracterize them and refuse to accept canon for what it is.. no guys bachikin was not a girlboss girlqueen she was a war criminal & an awful person & part of her character is the fact that she is trying to fix what she did!! holding her accountable is part of the story im afraid, you cant fake-feminism your way out of this one💔 when you remove the bad parts of a character meant to be a bad person u are left with a very bland & uninteresting character. learn to love a character despite the shit that makes them a bad person while still holding them accountable it. i love talking about the mo4 characters who wants to let me ramble about the mo4 characters to them

[eiloveir]

→﹐naruto imagines !

naruto men and their jealous streaks

genre: fluff, fluff, and more fluff—very romantic

characters: uzumaki naruto, uchiha sasuke, nara shikamaru, gaara

warnings: none, aside from the potential cringe and the relationship dynamics

author’s note: this idea sprang from a post i saw on pins (again)

uzumaki naruto

“is everything alright? you seem a bit off,” you asked him, concern evident in your voice. he had been his usual cheerful self, but when you both said your goodbyes to the people of sunagakure, his behavior had shifted dramatically. he hadn’t uttered a single word since then, and his silence was starting to worry you. You couldn’t help but wonder what had happened to cause this sudden change in him. but he didn’t answer right away. instead, he folded his arms across his chest and slouched slightly, his shoulders sagging. he turned to look at you, his eyes holding is something else you couldn’t quite place. his mouth was set in a pout, lips pursed tightly, making it clear that he was upset about something. his expression was a far cry from his usual upbeat and energetic self.

“you don’t do that with me...” he mumbled under his breath, but his voice was just loud enough for you to hear. “the... what?” you asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion. you could sense the tension emanating from him as he shifted uncomfortably beside you. his eyes flitted towards you, searching for some sign that you were pretending not to understand. when he realized that your confusion was genuine, he let out a sigh and averted his gaze. “why do you talk with him that way?” you blinked in surprise, taken aback by his sudden question. his behavior was so unlike his usual self, and you struggled to understand the root of his discomfort. “what do you mean?” you asked, trying to grasp the meaning behind his words. his sulky demeanor was puzzling, leaving you to wonder why he was so unsettled over what seemed like a minor issue. naruto fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with having to vocalize his romantic feelings. he toyed with the hem of his jacket, his gaze fixed on the ground. “when you talk to him,” he began hesitantly, “it’s different. you’re... softer, kinder, almost like you’re more patient with him. it feels like... like you don’t talk to me that way.” as his words sank in, you began to understand what made him act like that. seeing him like this, open and hurt, tugged at your heart. you reached out, gently placing a reassuring hand on his arm, “naruto,” you said softly, “you mean a lot to me. i had no idea i was speaking differently to him. maybe it’s just because i’m trying to be respectful. but that doesn’t mean you’re any less important to me. you have a special place in my heart, always." he lifted his gaze to meet yours, his eyes reflecting a roller coaster of emotions—relief, doubt, and hope. a small, hesitant smile began to form on his lips, and he leaned in slightly, seeking the comfort and reassurance of your presence. “really?” “really,” you confirmed, giving his arm a squeeze. “you’re special to me in ways you can’t even imagine.” his expression softened further, and he let out a deep breath, as if releasing the jealousy he had been carrying. his earlier sulkiness melted away, replaced by a shy, contented smile that made your heart flutter. he leaned closer, resting his forehead against yours, closing his eyes as he sought solace in your closeness.

uchiha sasuke

“i’m not upset,” he said, though his tone betrayed him completely. the words were delivered within a composed manner, but beneath the surface, there was an edge—a trace of irritation that he was trying, and failing, to mask with an air of indifference.

you watched him closely, your own expression of skepticism. raising an eyebrow, you crossed your arms over your chest in a gesture that was both defensive and doubtful. his posture was a clear signal that you weren’t buying into his attempt at denial. “sure,” you replied, your voice thick with irony and disbelief. “you’re not upset.”

he exhaled a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh, slowly turning his head away from your gaze. “i’m fine,” he insisted again, though his voice lacked the strength and certainty it usually carried, betraying his true state. the rigid tension in his shoulders and the way his stance became unnaturally tense suggested he was preparing for a confrontation he was clearly not eager to face. an air of unease enveloped him, and it was impossible for you not to be drawn to the sight of this usually composed uchiha, now so visibly disturbed. the very essence of his discomfort piqued your curiosity, making you wonder what could have unsettled him.

you tilted your head, examining him with a more scrutinizing gaze. although his expression remained a carefully maintained mask of neutrality, his eyes—dark and turbulent—spilled secrets of struggle he could scarcely conceal. despite his repeated claims of being fine, it was evident that something was troubling him. with a decision to probe a bit more, you leaned in slightly, a mischief dancing at the corners of your mouth. “you know, for someone who insists they’re not upset, you’re coming across as unusually grumpy right now.”

sasuke’s response was immediate. his eyes momentarily flashed with irritation, and he shot you a look — powerful enough to make most people instinctively retreat. “i’m not grumpy," he snapped back, but the low, grumbling quality of his voice did little to support his assertion. the sharpness and defensiveness in his tone only served the truth of what you had already surmised—something had clearly gotten under his skin, and he was making a strenuous effort to conceal his discomfort.

you let out a soft chuckle, feeling a strange sort of affection for his defensiveness. it wasn’t every day that sasuke allowed himself to lower his guard enough to show his true feelings, and it was even rarer for him to be visibly unsettled by something that seemed so minor. this glimpse into a side of him that was usually hidden from view brought a sense of pleasure to the moment. “it’s actually kind of charming,” you teased, your eyes dancing with amusement as you took in his uncharacteristic display of emotion.

sasuke’s glare grew more intense, yet you couldn’t miss the subtle blush that began to rise on his cheeks in response to your words. he swiftly turned his head, clearly attempting to conceal his embarrassment. “shut up,” he muttered, though his voice was softer than usual, lacking its typical edge. the vulnerability in his tone tugged at your heart, even as you maintained your playful teasing.

you couldn’t help but grin, feeling an irresistible urge to push his buttons a bit more. there was something endearing about seeing sasuke, who usually projected an air of composed detachment and aloofness, becoming flustered over something so seemingly insignificant. it was clear to you now that his irritation wasn’t just a reaction to your teasing but stemmed from a more personal place. perhaps he was feeling a a pang of jealousy—an emotion he rarely displayed openly. seeing him struggle to maintain his usual facade while clearly bothered by the situation made the moment all the more entertaining. “aw, come on, sasuke. don’t be like that,” you said, your tone light and playful. “it’s okay to admit that you’re jealous, you know.”

at the mention of jealousy, sasuke’s head jerked back towards you, his eyes widening in surprise and a blush crept across his cheeks. “jealous?” he said, clearly flustered by embarrassment. “what do i have to be jealous about?”

you shrugged casually, maintaining your smile as you observed him with a keen eye. “you tell me,” you replied in a calm and tone, “it seems like there’s something bothering you, or should i say, someone bothering you?” you added with a teasing edge, your gaze fixed on him, searching for any subtle hints that might reveal the true cause of his agitation.

sasuke’s cheeks turned a deeper shade of red, and he tried to mask his embarrassment with a scowl. “i’m not jealous,” he insisted, crossing his arms over his chest in a defiant gesture. yet, his reluctance to meet your gaze betrayed him, making him appear almost like a child caught in a lie, desperately clinging to his facade. you couldn’t help but smirk, clearly seeing through his tough exterior. “really?” you asked, raising an eyebrow with a playful glint in your eye. “then why do you get all grumpy whenever i talk to someone else?” you took a step closer, closing the gap between you. the warm, charged atmosphere between you made his struggle to maintain composure all the more evident. sasuke’s glare deepened, but there was a flicker of something else in his eyes—something that resembled uncertainty. “i don’t get grumpy,” he growled, his voice a low, petulant rumble. yet, as he spoke, you noticed the way his jaw tightened and the slight tremor in his hands as he clenched them into fists. you snickered, thoroughly entertained by his defensiveness. “oh, you do, actually,” you countered, taking another step closer. the warmth radiating from him and the thick tension in the air made the moment feel charged. “you get all moody and irritable when i talk to other people. it’s kind of adorable.” sasuke’s eyes widened at your comment, and for a brief moment, he seemed lost for words. “what do you mean ‘adorable’?” he snapped, his voice rising slightly in pitch. you moved even closer, a mischievous grin spreading across your face. “well, it’s cute seeing you all pouty and jealous,” you said, batting your eyelashes at him in an exaggerated manner. the playful teasing seemed to throw sasuke off balance, and he took a small step back. sasuke’s face flushed even more as you continued to tease him. he opened his mouth to retort, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. “i’m not pouting,” he protested weakly, though the pout in his voice was undeniable. the vulnerability in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. you chuckled, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. “oh, you definitely are,” you said, closing the final distance between you until you were standing right in front of him. reaching out, you gently tapped his nose with your finger, a gesture that made him flinch slightly. for a moment, sasuke looked like he was about to argue further, but then he seemed to deflate, his shoulders slumping in defeat. his cheeks were still burning with embarrassment, but he finally relented. “fine,” he muttered, looking down at the ground to avoid your gaze. “i am jealous. okay?” he took a deep breath, gathering his thoughts. when he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost hesitant. “it’s just... whenever you talk to someone else, i can’t help but feel annoyed. like they’re taking your attention away from me.” his admission was quiet and vulnerable, making your heart ache with a mixture of sympathy and affection. sasuke’s gaze finally lifted to meet yours, and you saw the sincerity in his eyes. “i don’t want to feel like this,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “but i can’t help it. it’s like... i want you all to myself.”

nara shikamaru

shikamaru’s gaze was sharp, a steely glint in his dark eyes that pierced through the quiet hum of the room. his brow furrowed, deepening the lines on his forehead, and his lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. the weight of his scrutiny was noticable, and it felt as though the very air between you crackled with an unspoken accusation. he stood with an air of nonchalance that belied the tension simmering beneath his calm exterior, his arms crossed firmly over his chest in a stance that spoke of both confrontation and a subtle, guarded defensiveness. his fingers tapped impatiently against his biceps, a gesture that conveyed his agitation despite his otherwise relaxed posture. “the hell was that?” he demanded, the question hung in the air. the way he pronounced the words made it clear he was not merely curious but genuinely perturbed. it was as if he had caught you in the middle of deception and now sought an explanation that you were not entirely prepared to offer. his tone had a biting edge to it, the kind that suggested he was not in the mood for excuses or evasions. you stood there, attempting to maintain a façade of innocence, though you could feel the telltale signs of discomfort creeping into your demeanor. the corners of your mouth twitched ever so slightly, a smirk that you struggled to suppress. you knew exactly what he was referring to, the stunt you had pulled earlier—a move so calculated and audacious that it was almost as if you had choreographed it with the intention of provoking a reaction. the very thought of his jealousy bubbling beneath the surface was almost amusing, though you maintained your composure with practiced ease. “what?” you replied, feigning ignorance with a slowness, the memory of the earlier incident was so distant that you needed to retrieve it from the recesses of your mind. the subtle arch of your eyebrows and the slight widening of your eyes were all part of the act, a display of confusion that was more theatrical than genuine. his eyes narrowed further, and his expression hardened as he stared you down. the slight twitch in his jaw betrayed his struggle to contain his irritation, and the silence that followed was thick with the tension of unspoken words. he seemed to be grappling with his emotions—jealousy and frustration—as he waited for your response. “the thing you did earlier,” his gaze remained fixed on you, a demand for an explanation that would either placate his concerns or further ignite his displeasure. the accusation was implicit, wrapped in the layers of his carefully controlled demeanor, and it was clear that he was waiting for you to explain mystery behind your earlier actions.

his words caught you off guard, making your heart skip a beat as if it had been yanked into a sudden stop. the intensity in his gaze revealed that he was acutely aware of the event that had taken place earlier. you knew, with a feeling, that he was referring to the kiss you had planted on choji’s cheek—a mischievous act that you and the others had planned with the intention of testing his reaction. it was a prank meant to stir up some emotions and see if shikamaru could be nudged out of his usually imperturbable demeanor. your own curiosity had driven you to participate, intrigued by the prospect of seeing the usually unflappable strategist display a hint of jealousy. tilting your head slightly to one side, you allowed a coy smile to surface, a playful glint in your eyes that you hoped would mask your true understanding of the situation. “what stunt? i just gave choji a friendly kiss on the cheek,” you said, the words slipping out with feigned innocence. even as you spoke, you could feel the tightrope of deception you were walking on, knowing full well the motive behind your action.

“yeah, sure,” he said, the sarcasm in his tone sharp and unmistakable. “because kissing someone on the cheek is a completely normal way to be friendly.” His voice dripped with disdain, the sarcasm was heavy, the sort that carried an implicit critique of your attempt to trivialize the situation. his eyes narrowed, a storm of emotions flickering within his gaze.

you could not help but chuckle, a sound that was part amusement, part nervousness. the realization that shikamaru was not fooled by your act was relief and further tension. his reaction was as potent as you had hoped, the jealousy you had intended to provoke now clearly visible in his demeanor. “okay, okay, you caught me,” you admitted with a playful sigh, raising your hands in a gesture of mock surrender. the smirk on your face widened as you leaned slightly forward, your shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. “it was just a prank.”

his expression softened just slightly as he rolled his eyes with exasperation. his arms, still crossed tightly over his chest, seemed to loosen a bit, though the trace of annoyance remained etched on his face. “a prank, huh?” “yeah, a harmless one,” you replied with a playful smile dancing on your lips, trying to diffuse the tension. “sakura, ino, and i thought it’d be funny to see if we could make you jealous.”

a small frown tugged at the corners of his mouth—his gaze, however, remained locked onto you with a level of intensity that suggested he was not entirely dismissing the matter. “and was it funny?” he questioned, it was pointed, as though he was challenging you to justify the prank, to explain whether it had indeed succeeded in its aim of provoking a reaction. you couldn’t help but tease, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “well, it’s a bit entertaining seeing you get all worked up,” you admitted with a grin, “but i didn’t mean to make you feel anything other than jealousy, and i wouldn’t do anything to hurt you intentionally.” the reassurance came with a warm tone, you wanted to ensure that despite the prank’s impact, your intentions had never been to cause genuine harm or distress. “not like it meant anything?” he repeated, his voice rising slightly, “you’re my girlfriend. i don’t appreciate other guys getting close to you like that, even if they’re just friends.” the words came out more forcefully than he probably intended. you raised an eyebrow at his overt display of jealousy, a small, secretive thrill running through you. the fact that your plan had worked was evident in his reaction, and you couldn’t help but take a bit of pleasure in seeing him so visibly affected. “is someone getting a little possessive?” you teased, stepping closer to him with a confident stride. you traced a finger along the collar of his shirt.

his eyes narrowed further at your touch, though a subtle hint of a blush began to creep up his cheeks. he seemed to be fighting a smile, the struggle apparent in the tight line of his lips and the faint flush of color on his face. “i’m just saying, you don’t see me going off and kissing any girls on the cheek, do you?” he retorted, his voice lowering slightly as if he were trying to keep his irritation in check. you laughed, thoroughly enjoying the playful exchange. “well, maybe you should. it’s not like i would get jealous or anything,”

he rolled his eyes, clearly not buying into your facade. “oh, please. you’d be mad as hell if i went around kissing other girls.”

gaara

gaara had always considered himself immune to jealousy or the idea of love itself, believing that such emotions were beyond his reach. that was, until you entered his life, almost as if scripted by fate. your presence stirred feelings within him that he had long thought inaccessible. now, he found himself grappling with an unsettling jealousy when he witnessed you and his brother, kankuro, engaging in playful banter right before him. he made a conscious effort to disregard the lively interactions between you and kankuro, attempting to ignore the way you both teased each other so effortlessly. yet, despite his best efforts, he could not suppress the rising tide of jealousy and possessiveness coursing through him. the sight of you laughing and enjoying yourself in kankuro’s company felt like a painful irritant, no matter how hard he tried to remain indifferent. his fists tightened into clenched knots as he observed you from the periphery of his vision. as kankuro’s teasing continued, gaara's frustration only intensified. he attempted to dismiss his growing irritation, but the heat in his cheeks and the tension in his jaw betrayed his internal struggle. eventually, gaara could no longer tolerate the scene unfolding beside him. the casual, affectionate banter between you and kankuro became unbearable, prompting him to rise from his seat, unable to mask his growing annoyance any longer.

“kankuro, knock it off,” he snapped, his voice taut with irritation. the lively, carefree banter between you and kankuro came to an abrupt halt, and the room fell into a heavy silence. the air was thick with the sudden tension that gaara’s commanding tone had injected. kankuro’s smirk faltered for a split second as he turned his attention to his brother, his expression shifting to one of feigned innocence. “oh, come on, bro. we’re just having a little fun,” kankuro said, his voice oozing with casual nonchalance. you looked up at gaara, your heart thudding in your chest. his reaction was intense, a side of him you hadn’t seen before. his irritation was noticable, and it was evident that he was struggling to mask the emotions simmering beneath the surface. gaara’s jaw tightened, his features hardening as he fixed a steely gaze on kankuro. “cut it out, kankuro. you’re being annoying,” he said, voice devoid of warmth and edged with frustration. the sharpness in his tone cut through the room, making it clear that he was no longer in the mood for light-hearted banter. kankuro raised an eyebrow, a sly grin spreading across his face as he leaned back in his seat with exaggerated nonchalance. “oh, am i annoying you, lil bro? it seems like someone’s feeling a bit jealous…” gaara’s irritation flared, his fists clenching into tight, white-knuckled balls. he turned to face kankuro fully, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. “i’m not jealous,” he asserted, though the strained quality of his voice betrayed the falsehood in his declaration. kankuro’s grin widened, clearly enjoying the effect he was having on his brother. “oh really? then why are you so worked up? you’re practically vibrating with anger.” his face flushed with ffrustration and embarrassment. he knew kankuro’s words were striking close to the truth, but admitting it felt like a defeat he wasn’t willing to accept. “that’s beside the point!” he snapped, his voice rising in volume. “just stop being such an idiot and leave us alone.” kankuro leaned back even further, crossing his arms and adopting an exaggeratedly thoughtful pose. “‘us? so it’s ‘us’ now?” he noticed the shift in your expression, the slight frown on your lips, and his grin grew wider, clearly reveling in the situation. sensing that the situation was escalating further, kankuro decided to heed gaara’s command. “alright, alright, i get it,” he said, raising his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. “my bro’s here is getting a bit too worked up for my taste. i know when i’m not wanted.” with a cheeky grin and a playful wink aimed directly at you, he made his exit, the door closing behind him with a soft click that seemed to echo in the now quiet room. with kankuro gone, the atmosphere in the room felt almost eerily still. the laughter and playful energy that had filled the space were replaced by a heavy, uncomfortable silence. gaara’s gaze remained fixed on the empty space where kankuro had been, his jaw still clenched tightly. after a tense moment of silence, gaara finally turned to face you. “sorry about that,” he muttered, his voice softer than before. he seemed unsure of how to handle the sudden shift in the dynamic between you two. you took a step closer, your eyes filled with concern. you reached out and placed a comforting hand on his arm, your touch tender and soothing. “it’s okay, gaara,” you said softly, your voice carrying a warmth meant to reassure him. “i didn’t realize it would bother you so much.” gaara shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, his eyes darting back to you. “i didn’t mean to overreact,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a quieter, more vulnerable tone. “it’s just… i don’t like seeing you so close to someone else. it makes me feel… unsettled.” a small, understanding smile touched your lips as you moved even closer, your hand gently cupping his cheek. “gaara, you don’t have to be jealous. you know i care about you deeply,”

his eyes softened at your reassurance, the tension in his posture easing slightly. “i know,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “it’s just hard for me sometimes. i haven’t felt like this before, and it’s… new.” you nodded, the vulnerability in his confession resonating deeply with you. “it’s new for me too,” you admitted, your thumb gently brushing against his cheek. “but i want you to know that you’re the one i choose. you’re important to me, and that won’t change.”

[wh1msic4lwasab1]

˚⟡˖ ࣪ ⋆˚࿔ 𝑩𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑩𝒐𝒏𝒅 𝜗𝜚˚⋆˚⟡˖ ࣪

synopsis: Sylus takes care of you when you start your period

tags: mentions of blood,, no penetration, service dom! Sylus, Soft in its own way (?), praise, fingering, lots of reassurance

wrd cnt: 1.5k

musical immersion: okay chat hear me out i listened to this song while writing this and ESPECIALLY THIS ONE it’s exactly the kind of vibes i was going for in terms of fluffiness when writing god i need sylus

a/n: I unlocked the “exclusive care” secret times with sylus and…GODDODJDJXJD please sylus take care of my on my period forever !! Anyways enough of that enjoy guys hehe

Your fingers trace delicate patterns along the rim of your wineglass as you sit across from Sylus, the soft clink of cutlery and the warm hum of conversation filling the air. The candlelight flickers, casting gentle shadows on his chiseled features, making his already piercing red eyes seem even more captivating. The aroma of fine cuisine wafts around you, but it's overshadowed by the palpable tension between you two.

Suddenly, a dull ache blooms in your lower abdomen, catching you off guard. You shift uncomfortably in your seat, hoping it's just a temporary discomfort. But as the sensation intensifies, you realize with a sinking feeling that your period has arrived. Mortification floods your cheeks as you feel a warmth seep through your clothes.

Sylus notices your sudden discomfort and furrows his brow with concern.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly, his voice laced with genuine worry.

"Yeah- I just think I got my period though," you admit hesitantly, heat rising to your face. "I didn't expect it today."

A look of understanding crosses his face, and he smiles warmly, reaching across the table to gently squeeze your hand.

"There's no need to be embarrassed. How about we bring the dessert to the couch and watch a movie instead? We can just relax, if that would make you feel better?”

You nod gratefully, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

Sylus directs you to the cupboard in the bathroom he stocked with products just in case for this exact situation, before you make your way to the living area.

Carefully, you position yourself on the plush couch, Sylus sets up the movie — a romantic drama that promises to tug at the heartstrings. He sits beside you, pulling both your legs up to drape inbetween his legs, caressing your warm skin as you lay against the armrest with a pillow behind you. The warmth of his body is comforting, easing some of the tension in your muscles.

The movie begins, and as the opening scenes unfold, you find yourself getting lost in the story.

Sylus's presence beside you is a steady anchor, grounding you even as the film whisks you away into its world of love and longing. You adjust your position slightly, trying to find a more comfortable spot, and inadvertently brush your thigh against him. The contact sends a jolt of electricity through you, and you freeze, waiting to see if he noticed.

He does. His breath hitches ever so slightly, and he turns his head to meet your gaze, a smoldering heat flaring in his eyes. "You keep doing that, and I might not be able to concentrate on the movie," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

Embarrassment makes your cheeks burn, but there's also a thrill running through you. "Sorry," you whisper back, though you don't move away.

Your legs remain nestled between his, your close proximity to him both thrilling and nerve-wracking.

Sylus's fingertips begin to trace lazy circles on your knee, gradually increasing pressure until he's caressing you with deliberate intent. "Don't be sorry," he says, his voice gravelly with desire. "I like when you touch me."

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you let out a shaky breath. The movie continues playing, but all you can focus on is the way his hands are gently exploring your body, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they land. He shifts slightly, angling his body towards you, and one hand moves down to rest on your hip, his thumb teasing the edge of your waistband.

"You feel so good against me," Sylus whispers, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks.

His touch becomes bolder, sliding further underneath your shirt to caress the sensitive skin of your lower back. You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself from smirking as his fingers dance closer to the curve of your hip. The heat in your face forcing a blush, and you instinctively press your hips against his hand, seeking comfort.

Sylus responds to your silent invitation, his grip tightening on your waist as he pulls you closer. "Do you want me to stop?" he asks, though his tone suggests he's hoping for a negative answer.

"No," you manage to breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper. "…don't stop."

With your permission, he keeps his large hand on your back, rubbing it lovingly as the movie plays, his other hand soothing up and down your knee and legs.

Your breath hitches as Sylus's hand continues its slow, deliberate exploration of your back. The warmth of his touch sears through your spine, sending tingles down your entire body. You can feel the heat radiating from his body, a palpable reminder of the growing tension between you both. The movie plays on, but neither of you is paying attention anymore. All focus is on the electrifying connection that has been building all evening.

"Sylus," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of worry and excitement. "I don't know if this is such a good idea."

He leans in closer, half his face illuminated from the screen and the rest in darkness. "Why not?” He asks, examining your face for the answer.

“Ahhh, I know why.” He says with dramatic intent, “You’re worried about the mess? Or perhaps that it bothers me?” He says with a teasing tone.

“Well- yes both of those.” You admit.

You hear a rich and deep laugh escape his lungs, his hand soothing higher up your thigh now.

“Kitten, you really expected me to care about something so trivial?” He says with upturnt brows.

You feel a sense of relief wash over you.

“Now…May I?” He asks, pointing to your nervous fingertips toying with the zip of your jacket.

At your nod, Sylus's hand slips higher, deftly unzipping your jacket without breaking eye contact. The cool air hits your skin as the garment falls open, revealing that you're wearing nothing underneath. A slow, wicked smile curves his lips as he takes in the sight of your bare chest and pulls your body into his lap.

"Such a naughty girl," he murmurs, his fingers gingerly circling one of your nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. "Didn't think I'd enjoy this as much as I do...you’re so searingly beautiful”

With that, he lightly presses down on one of your erect nipples, causing you to gasp and arch into his touch. "Sylus..." you whimper, your body betraying your initial hesitation.

"Shh," he soothes, leaning in to capture your nipple between his lips, his tongue swirling around it as he sucks gently before pulling away, a string of spit connecting his mouth to your chest. “I’m going to make you feel good, mmkay?”

His other hand migrates down to your core, fingers slipping under the elastic band of your panties to tease your entrance.

"Blood doesn't bother me sweetie," he assures you, his voice muffled by your breast. "If anything, it makes this even more intimate, don’t you think?” He adds, looking up into your eyes with his mouth full.

As he continues to lavish attention on your chest, his fingers dip into your slick folds, finding your clit and rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles. You cry out, your body trembling with the intensity of the sensations. Sylus watches you intently, gauging your reactions with every movement of his hand.

"You like that, don't you?" he purrs, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit as his fingers slide deeper inside you. "Tell me how good it feels..."

Your mind is fogged with lust, barely coherent enough to form a response. "It feels... amazing," you manage, your hips bucking involuntarily against his hand.

Seeing your reaction only fuels his desire, and he changes tactics, sucking harder on your nipple while thrusting his fingers inside, painfully slow and deep. Each push and pull drags another moan from your lips, and you clutch onto him desperately, your body desperate for release.

"Looks like someone needs to come," Sylus teases, his fingers continuing to spread your wetness over your throbbing clit.

"You’re close, I can feel it" he murmurs, his voice thick with desire

"Yes," you breathe out, "So close-," you continue, your hips bucking against his hand in uncontrolled desperation. "Yes, just like that."

Sylus's pace is constant, his fingers thrusting in and out of you in perfect harmony with your own movements.

“So sensitive, aren’t you?” He mumbles, his thumb finds your clit once more, pinching and rubbing the sensitive bud with more pressure. The dual stimulation sends you spiraling into oblivion, your body shaking uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

"Sylus!" you scream, your toes curling as you reach the peak of your climax. Your inner walls clamp down hard on his fingers, milking them for every last drop of pleasure.

Sylus doesn't let up, continuing to curl his fingers deeply, hearing all the gushes from your pussy, warm blood encapsulating his fingers as he rocks you through your orgasm until you collapse on his chest, utterly spent. He withdraws his hand slowly, pulling his glistening red fingers out and resting them to his side.

"Now, was that so bad?" he teases, his voice dripping with smugness.

You shake your head, still too dazed to speak. The intensity of your orgasm has left you weak-kneed and breathless, your entire body buzzing with residual pleasure. Sylus chuckles softly, clearly pleased with himself, and leans in to press a tender kiss to your forehead.

“You don’t ever need to be embarrassed with me, Kitten. I’ll here to take care of you, and every one of your needs.” He assures, planting more kisses all over your face.

whimsic4alwasab1 ™ - do not copy, translate, modify, or claim any of my work as your own.

[tododeku-or-bust]

could you elaborate a bit on that post abt (not) wearing headphones in public/playing your phone out loud? i was under the idea that it was nice to not play stuff aloud bc ppl might have migraines or be sound avoidant, but didn't realize i might just be seeing it from a white perspective, and id love to learn more

All right! First, check this link out: Xochitl does a far more eloquent job of explaining the idea than I would:

I assume that you're specifically honing in on my tag about the "white right of comfort".

Okay, so here's the thing. You're allowed to find public noise annoying. I too, find public TikToks and music annoying! And if you have migraines and such, I can understand how it would be impolite and inconvenient.

But what you're NOT allowed to do, is feel entitled to the public and prioritizing your OWN comfort in it over everyone else to the point of DEMANDING that it conforms to you or it's "bad". Especially when there are things you as an individual can do to prevent this discomfort.

While this gross sense of entitlement is very first world American in nature, it is extremely White American in nature because white Americans actually have the social power to enforce what they believe is the "right" thing based on their own standards.

For many cultures around the world and for many people of color, noise in the community is a GOOD thing. It's part of being a community. I feel safer if the people around me feel safe enough to be outside, to exist and to be, visibly in public.

And you got to understand, while many white people think they're genuinely in the right for believing that being loud on public transit or in the public is worth enforcing as a "bad" thing, people of color have literally already been killed for it. A Black teenager was shot in the face for playing music that a white man didn't like. A Black mentally ill man was murdered in front of EVERYBODY on a train because he was having a mental breakdown. This sort of policing ALREADY HAPPENS to us. Hell, even white gays with any sense of community should be aware of how queer gatherings would be shut down for "noise" (when in reality it was bc it was homophobia).

And now people want me to empathize that YOU'RE oppressed by... noise? On Public Transit?? IN PUBLIC?? Kiss my ass lmao.

I've been on trains where a man was legit growling at me like he wanted me dead. Another i saw Teens high on crack. Another where people beg and people sleep and people listen to music. And you know what I did? I turned my OWN music up and went on my way. Because at the end of the day, the only person I control is me!

And if people were REALLY concerned about others welfare, they would COMMUNICATE. no one is willing to say "hey, I have a headache, do you mind-" bc they're afraid of the rejection, so it's easier to demand "well EVERYONE SHOULD BE LIKE ME". Mhm. Learn to confront your issues. But you're not "unsafe" bc music. You're just annoyed, and you'll get over it.

In summary it really gives me "I can give you something to cry about" energy. Bc y'all swear y'all don't understand the existence of an HOA but here yall are replicating the same Karen behaviors, and y'all don't even realize (or maybe even care) how racist you sound. But why would you lmao, that makes you uncomfortable! And damnit, you have a right to comfort!!

[albertstrustie]

Something a bit different for you. I have a feeling my readers will like it. I know I do.

Let me know if you would like to see other fanfics from other fandoms.

—

Simon, like others who’d spent their lives dodging bullets, bombs, and knives, had trouble sleeping. You realized this the first night you stayed with him. When you woke, he was lying in the exact same position as before, his eyes bloodshot and the bags beneath them even darker. When you asked if he’d slept, he simply said he’d been thinking. It was never a satisfying answer, but you didn’t pry. He didn’t want you worrying about his nightmares. “It’s my problem to fix, not yours,” he’d say.

Simon would lie awake for hours, staring at the wall, the ceiling, or sometimes even at you. The feel of your body pressed against his was the only thing that helped him drift off for a few hours. The steady rhythm of your heartbeat, the softness of your skin, the brush of your hair—it all seemed to soothe him.

“Why do you stare at me when you think I’m asleep?” Your words startled him, and you could tell by the way he tensed beside you. “I’m not mad,” you added, your tone gentle. “I’m just curious why you find me so captivating that you’d sacrifice your sleep to look at me.”

There was no harshness in your question; you were genuinely intrigued. It felt surreal that someone would find you so peaceful to watch, enough to miss their own rest. Simon assumed you were teasing him, as if no one in their right mind could believe a man like him might feel such things. But when you rolled over and looked straight into his eyes, he saw that you meant every word.

"You really want to know?" he asked in that familiar, gruff drawl.

"Of course," you said, nodding.

He sighed, his gaze softening in a way you rarely saw. "The only reason I don’t sleep... is because of you. I’m scared if I close my eyes, I’ll open them and you won’t be here. That’s why I stay up—to make sure you’re really here with me. And in the morning, when I wake, I watch you sleep, just to be sure you’re still next to me."

His words hit you deep. Your heart, your very soul, shattered at the rawness of his confession. This wasn’t like the empty promises of past flings—the guy from the bar who had a girlfriend, or that childhood crush who turned out to be a disappointment. No, this was Simon. Simon—Ghost, if he was in one of his moods. With him, honesty wasn’t a choice; it was all he knew, shaped by a lifetime of loyalty and hard truths.

“Oh, Simon.” You scooted closer, wrapping yourself around him, your face pressed against his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know. I know.” His hand moved to your hair, fingers gently threading through it, softening even more as he traced the strands.

This was a familiar scene—him sharing something raw, you tearing up, and then him comforting you with “it’s okay” even though it never truly was. He deserved every good thing, yet all he could see was darkness. And not just ordinary darkness, but brutal, soul-crushing shadows. He ran his hand down your shoulder, then back up, the warmth of his touch healing something deep within you.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the rise and fall of his chest, grounding yourself in his presence. It was calm. Peaceful.

“You know,” you began softly, then hesitated.

“What?” he asked, his thumb brushing gently over your wet bottom lip.

“I like watching you, too,” you confessed, pressing a kiss to the pad of his thumb.

Simon looked away, a flicker of discomfort crossing his face. “You shouldn’t.”

“Yes, I should.” You cupped his cheek, guiding his gaze back to you. “You’re the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.”

“I’m not beautiful.”

“You are,” you whispered, “and I love you.”

He shuddered, as he always did when you laid your heart bare. He couldn’t fathom how someone like him could be loved by someone like you. But he kept those words to himself, and instead, his thumb brushed away a tear trailing down your cheek.

“You shouldn’t.”

You didn’t take his words to heart. You knew his demons, knew the weight he carried. He might not believe he deserved you, but you’d spend forever making him feel like the most important man in the world—because to you, he was.

“I should. And I do.” You kissed his cheek, then his lips. “I love you, Simon. All of you. The good and the bad, even the nightmares and the secrets you wish I didn’t know. I love it all. I love you.”

Simon’s breathing was uneven. He wasn’t used to this—your affection, your warmth. He wasn’t used to hearing “I love you.” The last person who’d ever said those words to him had been his mother, the only woman who’d ever shown him kindness. Until now.

But here you were, making him feel wanted, appreciated, loved. You pressed gentle kisses to every inch of his exposed skin, and he watched you, mesmerized. You kissed his cheeks, his eyes, his nose, his forehead, his neck. Your fingers were soft, tracing each muscle, each scar, each part of him that he himself couldn’t bear to look at.

“Do you believe me?” you murmured, pressing a delicate kiss to his lips.

Simon couldn’t find the words, so you continued, undeterred. You kissed down his neck, following the steady thrum of his pulse. Sometimes you’d press two fingers there, just to feel it, to remind yourself that he was here with you—whole, alive, not blown apart or bearing fresh wounds. You kissed over his tattoo, the one that symbolized a brotherhood and a past he couldn’t escape. Your hair spilled over his shoulders as your hands rested on his stomach, and he watched as you traced the scars, the ink, every mark he hated.

He watched as you loved him, piece by piece.

You felt the way his skin shivered under your touch, saw the way his pupils flared as he stared at you, lips parted, breath coming in shallow pants. You continued your trail of kisses, savoring every inch of him, letting the words he needed sink in.

“I love you,” you murmured, over and over, knowing he needed to hear it, maybe more than he’d ever let on.

You slid up his worn T-shirt, pressing your lips to the hard plane of his stomach, following the faint line of hair that began at his navel and led lower. You felt his muscles tense beneath your touch, his breath hitching, heat radiating off him in waves.

“I love you,” you said, the words muffled against the strained fabric of his pants, and a deep, aching sound escaped him. His body reacted instantly, tightening under your hands.

“You don’t—” he began, almost protesting.

“But I do,” you insisted, meeting his gaze, steady and unyielding. “Let me show you. Let me show you how much I love you.”

He swallowed hard and gave a slight nod, letting you ease his bottoms down along with his briefs.

You took his cock in your hands and marveled at how pretty it was. Simon was a big man, and his cock was not only a reflection that—but truly a work of art. Long and thick, with a vein on the underside and an angry mushroomed head. His balls hung low and were covered with a thin layer of dark, coarse hair. You leaned down and took him into your mouth, feeling his warmth, tasting him, letting yourself drown in it.

Simon cursed under his breath, hips arching despite himself, overcome by the heat and softness of your mouth. He whispered his amazement, his voice rough, his throat dry as he tried to speak.

Your tongue traced his length, taking him deeper, the thickness filling you, his pubic hair brushing your nose as you lost yourself in the sensation of him. His scent, the taste of him, filled your senses, making you lose yourself completely. Your saliva slicked his cock, and the more you moved your head up and down, the wetter and sloppier it got.

“Fuck,” he groaned, fingers threading tightly through your hair, his breaths coming faster now. You could tell he was close, but you wanted him in a way that left words behind—a kind of love spoken only through touch. Letting his length slip from your mouth, you watched it fall against his stomach, drawing a raw sound from deep in his chest.

His gaze was heavy, half-lidded and heated, and as you began to undress, he licked his lips, his eyes trailing over every inch of bare skin revealed.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest, right above the place where his heart beat strong and steady.

Taking his hands, you placed them on your body, letting his large, rough palms explore. The feel of his touch sent a shiver up your spine, and a soft moan slipped from your lips as he cupped your breasts, his thumbs circling and teasing your hardened nipples. You arched into his touch, barely holding back, wanting him more deeply than you could stand.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire, and you shook your head.

“No, you’re more,” you whispered before leaning down, capturing his lips and silencing his protest with a kiss, swallowing the sound of his moan as he gave in to you.

You reached down, wrapping your fingers around him, stroking slowly, savoring the way his hips bucked, his breath hitching with each caress. He was hard, pulsing, the tip flushed and slick. Finally, you moved over him, sinking down onto his length, and a deep, shared groan passed between you, filling the quiet room as you took him fully, every part of you bound together.

His arms wrapped around you, and your bodies were plastered together. “You’re beautiful. Inside and out. You’re everything good in this world,” you murmured, pressing your lips gently to his temple.

“Don’t,” he whispered, shaking his head, his face buried in the curve of your neck, as though hiding from the truth in your words.

But you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. Not when it came to Simon.

“You’re strong, handsome, brave… courageous.” You lifted yourself, feeling the way he pulsed within you, then sank down again, creating a rhythm that left both of you breathless. “You’re everything. And I love you. Tell me I’m right.”

He shook his head again, his body trembling beneath you, and you could feel his restraint, his need to resist, begin to unravel.

“Tell me,” you pleaded, moving faster, harder, each motion drawing him deeper into you.

“I—I… You’re right.” His voice was strained, a rough whisper as his arms tightening around you, grounding himself.

Your face was buried into his pillow, drool sinking into the soft, cotton case that smelt entirely of his shampoo—but that didn’t stop you either. “And you’re beautiful.”

He only let out something between a moan and a grunt.

“Say it,” you urged softly, your voice barely a whisper.

“I’m beautiful.”

You pulled away to kiss his reddened cheeks, holding him close as his eyes clenched shut, his body tense, every muscle taut beneath you.

“Come for me,” you whispered, and those words broke him. He shuddered as he reached his release, holding you tighter, pouring himself into you, and the feeling of him filling you brought you over the edge too. The release was overwhelming, a shattering wave that left you both clutching each other, chests heaving, bodies entwined.

You ran your fingers through his hair, looking down at him as he gazed back, his eyes now clear, softer, filled with something unspoken but deeply felt.

“I love you,” you murmured, pressing gentle kisses to his cheeks, his nose.

“I love you too.” His voice was tender, and the kiss you shared held all the words you didn’t need to say.

[hysteria-things]

hi! i recently found your account, and i js wanna say omg ur so talented, like ur fr my new fav writer. could u maybe write something about a virgin reader, whos only ever fingered herself, and so when matt (or chris but im a matt girl and im being self indulgent about this), and she squirts, and is super embarrassed about it and he comforts her about it? u dont have to, but idk i js think u could do this idea rlly well:)

FIRST TIME

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x virgin!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and matt have been together for quite sometime, but never had sex. he knows you’re a virgin and he’s so patient with you, but now you think you’re ready

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT but fluff!, making out, mini panic attack, praising, p in v, squirting

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,066

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: for anon and @mattsleftnipple03

these were pretty much the same so i combined them! hope you like :)

thank you and love you guys🫶

the pen in your hand scribbles on the piece of paper in front of you as you ponder. you’re in art class and your best friend sits across from you at the big table.

art class is basically a free period because let’s face it, you guys don’t do anything except gossip and draw for fun.

you’ve been asking your friend a series of questions about what losing your virginity is like since she has experience. the only experience you’ve ever gotten was your fingers, and to be honest, it gets old after a while.

you’re not embarrassed about being a senior in high school and still a virgin, but your boyfriend who graduated last year lost his with his ex a while back. you guys have talked about having sex for the first time for quite some time, but you were never ready.

no words can describe how grateful you are for matt. he’s been super patient and understanding with you.

but now, you think you’re ready.

“is there a reason you are asking me these questions?” your best friend asks, raising a brow.

you shrug, your hand still having a mind of its own with the pen. “i’m thinking about going all the way with matt.”

she smiles, genuinely looking happy for you. “oh my god! when?”

“i told him i plan on this weekend.”

“that’s so exciting!”

“yeah, but,” you pause to take a deep breath. “i feel nervous.”

she reaches over to stop your drawing hand. “it’s totally normal to feel nervous. matt’s such a sweet guy. i’m sure if you feel the slightest bit of discomfort, he’ll stop immediately.”

you smile at the mention of your boyfriend. she’s not wrong. matt will do anything to make you feel comfortable. he’s not one to force anything on someone. “you’re right.”

she gives your hand a light squeeze. “let me know how it goes.” she winks just as the bell rings for dismissal.

the rain outside is pattering on the window, you and matt cuddling comfortably on his bed. you guys just woke up from the best nap of your life.

you nibble on the inside of your mouth. “matt?”

“hm?” he hums, picking up his head that was resting on your chest.

“i want to do it.”

he beams at you. “positive?”

you bite your lip in excitement and nod. matt lifts himself to get more serious. “don’t be afraid to tell me to stop, okay?”

“i know,” you reply. he leans in and kisses you passionately with a hint of hunger. he breaks the kiss to take off his and your shirt but goes back at it to unclip your bra.

the skin-to-skin contact felt warm and comforting, but your anxiety is starting to take over.

you try to brush it off until matt reaches for your pants. yanking his hands away, you cover your top half with the comforter as you feel tears start to form.

matt freezes, a hint of guilt on his face. you try your best to take as many deep breaths as possible. “i’m so sorry, y/n.”

he carefully places his hand on your arm and rubs soothingly to calm you down. “n-no it’s not you.” you take three deep breaths before continuing. “it’s silly. the thought of a penis about to be inside of me freaks me out.”

you chuckle along with him, the humor helping you relax. “we don’t have—”

“i want to.” you say truthfully. “i just need a second.”

he goes through different breathing techniques with you until you calm down from your mini panic attack. he asks if you're okay at least a hundred times before you shut him up by kissing him again.

he hesitates with your pants not wanting to trigger you again, but after a beat, he pulls them down with your underwear.

his pajama pants soon end up on the floor with the rest of your clothes. he comes under the blanket with you and pecks you on the temple, grabbing a condom from the nightstand. “so proud of you.” he starts, making you blush. “you ready?”

you give him the okay, and he slowly starts pushing into you. the stretch makes you cringe and hiss, causing him to halt. “hurts?”

you shake your head. “pressure… keep going.”

dampening your lips by licking them, he continues to move. his eyes are dead set on your face to sense any discomfort. you let out a ‘mmph’ when he’s all the way in.

when he doesn’t see any bad signs, he starts moving his hips. you moan softly, the pain turning into pleasure.

“you can go faster,” you whisper, and he does. your nails leave crescent marks on his shoulders as he peppers kisses on your chest, neck, and face.

you squeeze your eyes closed, the softest of sounds leaving your lips. then, your legs twitch, and a watery liquid squirts out of you. your eyes widen, and matt stops the second he notices. “what’s wrong? need me to stop?”

“no. i think i…” your cheeks burn, too embarrassed to admit what you’re thinking.

“that’s okay. it’s completely natural.” he reassures, grabbing one of your hands to interlock with his above your head. “you’re doing so well, y/n. so fucking proud of you.”

he continues to rock his hips, this time pulling out more and thrusting back in a smidge harder. “oh.” you moan, arching your back when he starts hitting a certain spot. “oh shit, matt. just like that.”

he tries his best not to pick up speed to scare you, so instead he keeps the rhythm you’re comfortable with. he grunts, taking the hand that’s not holding yours and placing it on your hip.

the grip you have on his hand tightens, indicating that you’re close when his tip keeps abusing your g-spot.

you whimper, your legs starting to quiver from pleasure. “i’m close.”

“cum, baby. you’re doing such a good job.”

you sigh of relief when your cum slowly starts to ooze around him. matt’s right there with you with just a few more thrusts before spilling into the condom.

the feeling of him pulling out of you makes you wince, but then you two giggle. “i did it!” you say proudly, holding up your hand to give him a high five.

he laughs. “damn right you did.” he takes your high five, followed by a handhold.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72

[moonsaver]

I’m just imagining the arranged marriage thing but this time it’s Sunday who is head over heels for reader (maybe he was the one who set this up in the first place! This could also tie into reader being higher status but Sunday does something to make them fall and then saves them by entering a relationship with the head of the oak family) but reader doesn’t like him or is into someone else, the angst….i feel like Sunday would do everything to make them love him but it just won’t work so in the end he just begs them to at least pretend they love him and that’ll be enough. A happier prompt on this could be he does actually succeed in getting some of their genuine love in the end. Anyway just thought of this after seeing a clip of Aqua and Akane from oshi no ko. Don’t judge me.

Okay, tons of possibilities here so lets go turn by turn because i really like this idea and unfortunately let it marinate for way too long

And it might have become unintentionally yandere, so i might redo it lol + there's not much fluff.

1 . Sunday arranging the marriage himself because he really likes reader – normal au

Sunday would definitely do this if he was pushed to his wits’ end. If his feelings for you not only disintegrate, but instead worsen and delve deeper, and on top of that, if he senses you yourself are drifting away from him. The added pressure of not reaching you in time after a conclusion to his own feelings is scary to him. In his desperation, he might as well pull some or the other reason out of his ass to marry you, even going as far as to even bribe your parents/guardians or anyone who has the power to object on your behalf.

Negotiations, contract handling, etc.. are all planned by him, so if you have a problem or you want to object, you can only do it by directly confronting Sunday himself. The added intimidation of his knowing, mysterious smile when he stands before you, almost irking you to continue in silence when you hesitate at wanting to object is something he almost relishes. Any problem you might have, has to be directly communicated to Sunday.

In the actual marriage? He's much easier on you. The hard part of coercing you into the marriage was over. He allows you more freedom in the marriage than he does outside of it.

He allows you separate rooms, reigns in any affections for you until you're comfortable, and even openly lets you know you two won't have to immediately consummate your marriage. He'll generally make sure you're comfortable in your marriage.

Of course, deviations and exceptions occur if you happen to still have lingering feelings for.. some nobody. He's bitter about it, so so bitter you can feel the tension in the air when his smile slightly falters at even the mention of their name. Sunday might try to hasten the process of you getting “comfortable” and perhaps even start forcing a few affections on you, such as kissing or holding your hand, brushing your hair in the morning and before bed, lingering his eyes on your lips. He might even not so subtly try to pressurise you, by telling you things like “at this rate, many might not even think we are married, my dear”. 

He plays slightly dirty, but there's so many moments of clarity that he hesitates still. He doesn't want to force you to love him - he wants it to happen on it's own. He's often so loving to you from afar in hopes you'll notice and maybe even return them, but when you look away in anxiousness or discomfort, Sunday's smile falters into a resigned, solemn expression. It hurts, deeply.

2. Sunday arranges the marriage with a reader of higher rank

Its similar, but you'll find the process is hastier. Perhaps it even causes a few slip ups in the middle.

Sunday would be practically tearing at his own hair before he finds the key to catalyze the negotiations of your marriage with him. If it's something that happens to knock you down or push you into unfavourable circumstances, he hesitates. But if you happen to like someone else? All that hesitation vaporises in an instant. He's practically over the moon when you have no one to turn to, his hand is almost shaking from excitement when he reaches it out to you. 

He's much more.. smothering if it makes sense, but he's not outright/direct about it. He always wants to be wherever you are, sometimes stands too close for comfort beside you, and even puts you in circumstances where you won't necessarily be able to push back in the case you damage your already fragile image or so. He's so elated, it's almost creepy. If you don't seem to be driving the relationship, or remain stagnant, his suspicions will grow immensely regarding your feelings for anyone else. Whenever you aren't present, he probably rifles through your belongings, scours for any possibility of traces of that nobody in your life.

He insists on spending the night with you – a familiar knock at the exact same time almost every night on your room's door. He stays with you, talking until it's late at night and you're too tired to shoo him away. But he'd never think himself superior than you, rather he almost takes advantage of it. He's constantly telling you how much incharge of the relationship you are. He disguises choices he wants to make on your behalf as something you can decide on. “Would you like a separate room for us both, or would you like us to have connected doorways?” , “shall I spend the morning with you, or the night?” , or so on. Not doing anything with him makes him sour, but he hides it with a smile. Sooner or later your plans are sabotaged, and in the end he joins you in “fixing” them anyway, and well.. since he's already been here for so long, it won't hurt to have him stick by until the end of it, right?

In some extreme cases, maybe one where the reader is desperately trying to leave the marriage or push back against anything that solidifies it, Sunday might even insist that you two consummate as fast as possible, regarding it as something necessary or even vital. He's so persistent about what he wants from you, like a dog begging and whimpering, that you're practically coerced into giving it to him.

He often poses himself on his knees to you, and stares so tenderly at you, you might crack. It hurts to not give him what he wants. There's times where begging words almost slip out of his mouth when he has to pull you closer. He wants your love so desperately it hurts.

[arcielee]

sinful

Summary: Lucifer shows you what Adam is lacking. Paring: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader Word Count: 2k+ Warnings: 18+, Reader AFAB, sexual discomfort hinted, sexual inexperience, kissing, oral (f receiving), fingering, cunnilingus from the leader of all demons, and also Bible verses being used to create sexual tension?? Author's Note: Well, I have fallen headfirst into the Hellaverse and needed to get this smut out of my system. Bible verses being used are 1 Corinthians 9-10 & Galatians 5:17. This was inspired by the artwork created by cluffy_25 from IG & TikTok. Maybe now I can finally get some sleep. I hope you enjoy! 😭

On that fateful day of your creation, there was a palpable shift in paradise from the jealousy that was sown into the earth. 

Lucifer was first in the shadows, just another specter amongst the watchful wonderment as the rib pulled from Adam was crafted, flesh intricately woven; the sight of you was a holy splendor, surpassing every and any expectation imagined. When it was proclaimed that your image was the likeness of Yahweh, he had scoffed, ignoring the chorus of angels recoiling; the truth–which he spoke out loud–was that your beauty was a novel artistry all its own. 

He continued that nothing, that no one, could even compare to you. 

It did not help that the praises above echoed this sentiment and further seeded a growing resentment, its envious tendrils wrapping and rotting Eden from within. With it, your novelty was peeled away, but Lucifer remained enraptured with your ethereal grace, with your careful consideration you showed to all living things as you learned your surroundings. 

He also saw the covetous gaze cast from the angels and how they poorly masked it with a cold reserve that was met with your every interaction. 

Lucifer saw how it began to chip away at the kindness you gave freely. He burned when he saw the hurt that touched your lovely features, he fumed at the sound of your disheartened sigh of acceptance that this was all you could expect from this life given. 

Your isolation called to his loneliness, and with Lucifer, you found a kindred spirit. You were grateful with how he returned your genuineness, even finding a sense of comfort, of validation, at the tip of his brazen tongue that did not fear consequence. With him, you found your thoughts could be shared, the ones you carefully clutched to your chest, and would not be met with any judgment–your shy whispers on your divine purpose that came knitted with your existence and the gilded cage that it created. 

Though he seemed an empathetic creature, always kind to you, you were also aware of the stories and his lore. You caught a glimpse one day when you let slip the chore required of you to lay with Adam, a duty you tried to complete quickly and quietly when he demanded. 

The air around you thickened, and you saw the demon that thrummed beneath the surface: the flash of red in his eyes, the heat from the flame on his furrowed brow. Something powerful, something dire that came and went with your heartbeat. 

This was an intimate subject that Lucifer always precariously balanced on the precipice of, always alluring to something unknown by you. He hinted at the shrine you possessed, giving you just a taste of something sinful, of something more that was within your reach. He spoke of pleasure that could be found, but when you mentioned this to Adam, he only sneered. 

For man did not come from woman, but woman from man; neither was man created for woman, but woman for man.

“But do you ever wish for more?”

It was another day in the garden. Adam had been swept away by the angels who remained in awe of the First Man, but this never bothered you. You welcomed the reprieve, slipping away to return to the natural arbor by the river weaving through the oasis. 

Here the branches curled overhead, light streaking through and the leaves blanketing the ground. Your legs were stretched to feel the sun that fell through, allowing Lucifer to lay his head on your plush thighs. His eyes were watching you, waiting for your response to his question. 

Your lips pursed. “I already have all that I could ever need.” You were careful with your words, your fingers moving to comb through his golden hair.

He hummed with your touch. “I did not say need,” his eyes were still trained to you, an upwards curl to his lips. “I asked if you wished for something more, for something else.” 

“What else could I possibly want?” Your brow quirked. It was part question, part curiosity. The fallen angel seemed to speak in riddles. 

His eyes glittered. “Free will.” 

“But I have free will.”

“Free will allows you choices all your own,” he argued, still smiling. “Would you have chosen Adam if you had not been given to him?”

Lucifer grinned as he watched his words catch in your throat. It was another intrusive thought he always seemed to uncover, pulling to the surface. Your blood stained the apples of your cheeks and your tongue wet your lips. 

“Adam,” you began, pulling your hands away and placing them at your sides, “was created in the likeness of God.” This was the repeated mantra sung from the heavens, words you spoke now without any conviction. “To not choose him would be to not choose the one true…” 

But it faded to obscurity once you became aware of his close proximity; he pulled himself upright before facing you, leaning in with his intensive gaze. “Adam is not God, but only a man.” His voice was low, fanning against your cheeks, and your skin flushed hotly with his words.

This was not the first time he reminded you that Adam was just a man, merely created from the dust of the earth. You never defended whenever Lucifer spoke of Adam’s failures, his certainty that Adam did not give this pleasure you deserved.

It was a topic that piqued your interest, but you felt too bashful to continue it before. But now…

“Free will should allow you the option to choose for more,” his honeyed tone continued. “Should you not experience all that this life has to offer?” 

For a moment, you could only hear the orchestra life created, the rustle of the leaves with the soft breeze and the water that flowed. You had always thought Lucifer was handsome. There was something captivating about him, and right now, you were entranced with the new emotion that now played in the amber glow of his eyes.

Like what, you dared to whisper, eyes wide. 

Lust of the flesh, he replied with an elegant arc to his brow, with an impish curl to his lips.

You felt your skin prickling, something that flitted along the seams of your being before returning to coil in your abdomen. It was something that pulled you to the precarious ledge he seemed perpetually perched on. 

And you kissed him. 

It was gentle and it was quick, though your heart bruised against your ribs with your bold action. You felt the embarrassment flood your features, but when you tried to pull away, his hand caught the back of your neck, his fingers curling into your nape. His mouth captured yours with vigor and your mind splintered from the softness of his lips, from the warmth of his mouth; a sensation that screamed throughout you, craving for more.

Flesh lusts against the spirit…these are contrary, the one to the other.

He stopped the moment you tensed, pulling back and allowing you a breath. Your lips were swollen and flushed, your eyes glassy as they came to focus on the Prince of Darkness. “This does not have to go further unless you wish it to,” his voice soft with his emphasis.

The choice presented like a thick haze that swirled around you, drawing you towards him again. This pleasure promised trilled your veins, and your hands moved to grasp and pull him closer for another clumsy kiss. 

Your body sang from his touch as his fingers skimmed over to grab into your hips, his warmth alighting your every nerve. His mouth moved to your jaw, to the curve of your neck and lower, nipping at your collarbone. You giggled, squirming against him, and his hold moved to cradle your lower back, a guiding press backwards until you were laying on the grass. 

“Trust me,” he whispered against your skin, his hot mouth trailing lower. 

Lucifer nestled between your thighs, his hands never leaving your body so you were aptly aware of his next movements. His head turned to press a kiss on the inside of your knee, following along with licks and nips of his teeth and tongue, plumes of color following his wake. It was a slow pacing, creeping towards your core, feeling how your blood simmered beneath, your body blossoming with his methodical ministrations. 

Your legs widened, welcoming him and his intimate touch. His fingers pressed a v-shape to spread your folds, his exhaling tickling against your cunt, swollen and glossy with your arousal. He moved closer, a tentative touch of his tongue, and you melted against his mouth. He groaned with your taste, briny and begging for more; his hands curled under your thighs, canting your hips to meet with his lips. 

It was a sensation that seared through your veins, a bolt straightening your spine. You gasped again, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair to ground yourself as his forked tongue moved with precision and with purpose. 

He was mindful of your every sound, your bated breath and your sweet sighs, the mewling noises that spilled like nectar from your lips. He pulled you towards a plateau of pleasure that resonated throughout your core, rattling your bones beneath. 

You felt him swell against you, burning between, and your thighs clenched around him. Your chin pressed down to see him, truly for the first time: his horns curling up from his blond hair, the blood-red glow of his eyes pooling onto your skin. 

Your mouth fell open, shock and pleasure twisting from your lungs. 

Lucifer lifted his head, meeting with your teary gaze, his sharp smile gleaming from your slick. “You may grab onto them, if you need to.” His voice was low, husky. 

Your hands trembled to touch and their smooth texture was warm against your palms. You reverberated with his low chuckle as he dipped his head back to the apex of your thighs, his vitality unleashed. He feasted on your essence, and your hands gripped the base of his horns as his forked tongue carved into your sensitive flesh, a pulsing pleasure that poured hotly in your core. You cried out with the prod at your entrance, and he pressed a quick kiss to soothe as his finger curled within you. 

“You are doing so well for me,” he crooned as his finger searched, brushing against a spot that brightened your vision, curling your toes. He hummed again, and you felt his satisfaction curling on his lips. “Can you take another one for me?”

Your back arched with his touch; the tandem of his tongue and fingers thrilled you, the pulsing pleasure coiling so tight it was as if your heart was beating outside your body. It unfurled, a blinding light, a sobbed release, this euphoria wrenching the air from your lungs and your muscles contracting around his digits; and Lucifer continued his come hither motion to your completion. 

You were eventually brought back to your body, feeling a gentle breeze against the sheen of sweat, the grounding weight pressing to the inside of your thigh. You blinked, seeing Lucifer with his head resting against you, his fingers drawing lazy designs on your skin. His wicked grin was splayed, watching through hooded eyes at the slow rise and fall of your chest as you regained your breath. 

You blushed furiously, feeling the dull throb between your thighs, the last remnants of your pleasure he craftily pulled from you. But there was also an ache, a contrast of emotions playing in the haze of your mind: the purpose you were given and this newfound pleasure had. 

These are contrary, the one to the other: so that ye cannot do the things that ye would wish.

The blood drained as you pushed to your elbows, a prickling fear that followed the curve of your spine. You stammered, your tongue sticking to the roof of your mouth. “W-what did you say?” 

Lucifer tilted his head, his brow furrowed, confused. “I only said that you were beautiful,” and he pushed up, moving to kiss you, softly, sweetly. “You are beautiful just like this.”

You allowed his kiss to comfort you, rekindling the fire he had found within you, with the sweet taste of your sin on his lips. 

arcie's masterlist

[junabuggy]

hello!! i saw you wanted requests and I was wondering if you would be willing to write some platonic headcanons for the Hazbin Hotel crew with a reader who has chronic pain. (i totally get if you don't want to) thank you so much and I'm excited to see what you write in the future 😺

Hazbin Hotel Crew x Chronic pain having! GN! Reader

A/n: tysm for the request !! This is my first time writing something like this so I hope it’s okay :3 (if there’s anything I got wrong, please correct me)

Warnings: Mentions of chronic pain and disability (but like.. that’s pretty obvious lol)

Fluff✔️ Comfort✔️ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 After a while of Alastor observing you, as he does with most, he’d notice your body language and think the way you acted was a bit odd…

📻𖤐 Not in a bad way, he just didn’t understand at first why you sometimes visibly look like you were in pain or even just hobbling around to get somewhere

📻𖤐 it definitely raised his brow…

📻𖤐 Before actually approaching you and asking you about it, I’d like to think he made one of the egg boiz spy on you like he did in that one episode 😭😭

📻𖤐 I don’t know what he was expecting though. The only somewhat valuable piece of information he gathered from what the little talking egg had told him was that it saw you taking pain medication. Which did not narrow it down at all and not much of his curiosity had been quenched quite yet..

📻𖤐 So, one peaceful and early morning in the hotel, he decided it’d be best to just ask you about it.

📻𖤐 “My dear, are you feeling alright? You look to be quite discomforted…?” He’d ask casually as he took a sip from his coffee mug, one brow raised and his eyes fixed on yours, pretending like he hadn’t noticed this before today.

📻𖤐 After a chat, he was informed you had something called “chronic pain”. He asked a few questions, nodding when he got the answers and once he was satisfied, he walked off back to his quarters in the hotel.

📻𖤐 After all, he had so much research to do.

📻𖤐 Adding onto that last once I do feel as though Alastor would do more research on it when you decided to tell him about your condition.

📻𖤐 Mostly for his own benefit of learning something new since he hadn’t heard of this before… but it came in handy if you ever needed a bit of a helping hand.

📻𖤐 Like, if you happened to have a flare up or just a particularly bad day he’d sit with you and made sure you rested up.

📻𖤐 He wouldn’t verbally express it but he did take pity on you. How unfortunate you were in constant agony.

📻𖤐 He is a sadistic little fuck though so he’d probably find it mildly entertaining or at the very least fascinating to see what’d make you tick or was a challenge for you

📻𖤐 Although he’d try to be careful not to push you too much.

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ We all know Angel Dust doesn’t have much of a filter so it wouldn’t take him long to ask you why you could barely stand upright for too long or look like you’re genuinely struggling all the time.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ In fact, he’s more perceptive than people would like to think he is. He noticed it shortly after you two had met.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ He’d probably come off a bit strong, saying something along the lines of “toots? Ya alright over there? Ya don’t look so uhhh.. you don’t look too hot.” As he gave you a one over.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ You could tell he wasn’t trying to be insulting to you though, he was just concerned and wanted to know what was troubling you. It showed ever so slightly on the spiders face.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Once you explained to Angel your condition he felt bad. Like, huh? Whatdoya mean you sometimes have trouble even getting outta bed in the morning because of how much pain you’re in?? Sometimes you neglect your own basic needs because you’re in constant pain?

🕸️ᥫ᭡ As he tired to wrap his head around the thought, he’d ask if there’s anything he could do to help. Of course though, there wasn’t much he could do.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ From that day on, Angel would try to make things at least a little easier for you. You had earned the title of his friend, after all. Why would he let his friend suffer alone?

🕸️ᥫ᭡ He loves to cook and is pretty good at it so expect a few homemade meals on him at least a few times <3

🕸️ᥫ᭡ If you ever had a flare up you better fucking believe he’d sit there with you and just talk. He rambles like an old man lol

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Also 100% has movie nights with you with both of you guys’ favourite snacks.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Oh and of course his pig Fat Nuggets would be joining you two

🕸️ᥫ᭡ And thankfully the little guy adores you. Which gains some points with Angel

🕸️ᥫ᭡ The piggy would crawl into your lap if you were up for it. He’s pretty light and his oinks and squeals are bound to make you crack a smile

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel is no stranger to feeling pain, so he knows how much it sucks.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ That’s why I believe he’d be one of the best people to tell. You’re his friend and wants to make sure you’re okay as possible.

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Husker, much like Angel, would notice almost immediately that something was up with you…

🍺🃁 At first Husk couldn’t place it. He just knew that he didn’t often see you standing up straight for long periods of time and that you looked like you were constantly unwell.

🍺🃁 Was it just bad migraines? He’s never really seen you drunk before so it’s not like it could be really bad hangovers.

🍺🃁 Plus, this has been going on since you arrived here so that seemed highly unlikely.

🍺🃁 Husk was the type of guy to keep it to himself though. If it didn’t concern him, why bother saying anything about it?

🍺🃁 One day though, you sat yourself down at the bar and asked for some water. This time however, you looked worse than usual, practically doubled over as you stared down at the bar.

🍺🃁 Even though Husk usually kept his mouth shut.. he couldn’t help but ask if you had a headache or something and if you needed some migraine medication.

🍺🃁 He wasn’t heartless.

🍺🃁 When you shook your head no slowly and told him you were just having a “flare up” he asked what you meant to which you gave a brief explanation of the condition you have.

🍺🃁 Suddenly, it all made sense. That’s why you looked like you were constantly in pain. It’s because you were.

🍺🃁 He slid you the ice cold water gently and observed you for a few moments before going back to wiping the glasses as he spoke to you.

🍺🃁 “If you need something don’t be afraid to ask for it.” He’d say, his deep voice trying to be as comforting as it can while also maintaining somewhat of a nonchalant tone.

🍺🃁 Then, after that, it became routine for you to sit at the bar with him.

🍺🃁 He definitely wasn’t complaining. It was nice getting to know you and since you had a place to just sit and rest, he got to see you more often.

🍺🃁 you swiftly became good friends with him and he was pretty helpful when it came to your condition.

🍺🃁 he’d do his best to check up on you often :)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie heard about your chronic pain from Charlie so there wouldn’t be a need to tell her about it lol

🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d be a little awkward with attempting to help you out…

🗡️☪︎ Like it’s not like she can really make you feel better so it’s a bit of a struggle for her..

🗡️☪︎ But she does try her best though because she cares about you. You’re her friend.

🗡️☪︎ After a few motivational words from Charlie she’s good to go, attempting to comfort you.

🗡️☪︎ I have a feeling she’d try to help by grabbing you stuff you wanted or needed and chatting with you.

🗡️☪︎ She’s actually quite fun to converse with, she’s pretty sweet when she wants to be and can hold good conversations :))

🗡️☪︎ She’s a good listener so if you wanted to vent or just had something on your mind, she’d listen.

🗡️☪︎ During flareups, Vaggie would just stay by your side and wait it out with you, if you needed anything, she’d be on it and would be back pretty fucking quickly too 💀

🗡️☪︎ Would put a random show on if you wanted a distraction and might let you rest your head on her shoulder if you so desired

🗡️☪︎ I can’t think of much else for her other than the fact she’d try her best. Maybe mess up a few times but ultimately she means well and tries to be as understanding as she possibly can be <33

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ The first thing you did when you arrived at the hotel was inform the very excited daughter of Lucifer that you had chronic pains so you might have to take it a bit slow when showing you around the Hazbin Hotel..

⭐️☀︎ And of course, Charlie being who she was, was very understanding and accepting of that fact.

⭐️☀︎ She’d heard about your condition before so making accommodations for you wouldn’t be an issue

⭐️☀︎ She’s a sweetheart so quite literally your biggest supporter

⭐️☀︎ Like, oh? You need something??Ohmygodwhydidntyoutellmesoonerhereitis :33

⭐️☀︎ Much like Vaggie, she’d sit and talk with you during your flareups

⭐️☀︎ Maybe make you a tea and discuss future plans and such for the hotel to get your mind off of things. Works sometimes surprisingly enough.

⭐️☀︎ She’s nice to talk to, very comforting vibes

⭐️☀︎ But it may get a bit annoying how many times she asks if you’re sure there’s nothing she can do to make your pain go away somehow lol

⭐️☀︎ Or even just how many times she asks if you need something. “Do you need anything? No? Are you sure? Okay…. But are you really sure?”

⭐️☀︎ Might stress herself out on occasion over it tbh😭🙏

⭐️☀︎ But she only means well, you know that.

⭐️☀︎ Her cat Keekee I’m sure would love to cuddle, the cute cyclopean kitty pushing its forehead against your hand for pets (only if you’re up to it, of course.)

⭐️☀︎ Asides from Angel, Charlie would definitely be the best person to tell in the hotel because like… genuinely she just wants to help In any way she can lol

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Niffty is quite blunt as well, very out there and doesn’t really think before she speaks half of the time it just kinda comes out 😭

🧼𐙚 So.. she’d probably take one look at you, and ask why you’re in pain.

🧼𐙚 To which you’d explain to the little one eyed maid your condition, she’d think about it for a moment before asking a shitload of questions about it to which you answer :))

🧼𐙚 Other than that I don’t think Niffty would like… really do much?

🧼𐙚 Maybe clean for you

🧼𐙚 But there’s not much else she would do, realistically, she might forget about it and then ask again. Once you remind her she remembers tho lol

🧼𐙚 During your flareups I do believe like the others she’d sit with you for a while…

🧼𐙚 Before spotting a roach and scurrying off to go take care of the pest. Once done, she’d come back and the cycle repeats.

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[zapreportsblog]

Eye Contact

➥ summary: earth 42!miles just wants to know why his girl avoids eye contact with him

➥ a/n: this one shot is based off of @the-dumpster-fire-of-life post “eye contact”

➥ fluffy one shot

The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow over the room as Miles and his girlfriend (Y/n) settled into a comfortable conversation. Their faces were illuminated by a soft radiance, but Miles couldn't help but notice a subtle shift in (Y/n)'s demeanor. She seemed hesitant, avoiding his gaze as if there were unspoken words hanging in the air between them.

Concern etched into his features, Miles gently reached out and took (Y/n)'s hand, his touch reassuring. "Hey, is everything okay?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine care.

(Y/n)'s eyes flickered briefly to meet his before diverting to the floor, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her shirt. She bit her lip, her expression a mixture of vulnerability and discomfort.

"I... I'm sorry, Miles," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just find it hard to look you in the eye sometimes."

Surprised, Miles squeezed her hand gently. "You don't have to apologize, (Y/n). You can tell me anything. I'm here for you."

(Y/n) took a deep breath, summoning her courage. "It's not that I don't trust you or anything like that," she explained, her words hesitant but genuine. "It's just... sometimes, when I look into your eyes, it's like you can see right through me. It's overwhelming."

Miles listened intently, his gaze fixed on (Y/n) with an understanding that surpassed words. He knew the weight of vulnerability, the depth of emotions that could arise from the connection between two souls. He gently brushed his thumb over the back of her hand, silently encouraging her to continue.

(Y/n) continued, her voice growing stronger as she found her rhythm. "When I look into your eyes, it's like I'm laid bare. Every fear, every insecurity, they all feel magnified. I'm afraid you'll see me differently, that you'll realize I'm not as put together as I appear."

Miles's heart ached at (Y/n)'s confession. He had always admired her strength, her unwavering determination. Yet, he understood that beneath her resilient exterior lay a tender heart, susceptible to its own doubts and fears.

He tilted her chin gently, coaxing her to meet his gaze. "Listen, (Y/n)," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth. "When I look into your eyes, I see a beautiful soul, a person filled with passion, kindness, and so much strength. I see the love and care you pour into everything you do. Your vulnerabilities only make you more human, and they don't diminish the amazing person you are."

(Y/n)'s eyes met his, and for a moment, she saw the sincerity and love reflected in his gaze. It was a mirror that didn't judge or criticize, but rather embraced and cherished.

"I've had my own moments of doubt and vulnerability, (Y/n)," Miles continued, his voice gentle but resolute. "But being with you has taught me that we all have our struggles, and it's okay to let our guards down sometimes. In fact, it's in those vulnerable moments that we truly connect and find strength in each other."

Tears welled in (Y/n)'s eyes as she absorbed his words, feeling the weight of her insecurities begin to lift. She squeezed his hand, her voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and relief. "Thank you, Miles. Thank you for seeing me, for accepting me, vulnerabilities and all."

The room filled with a gentle silence as (Y/n) finished pouring out her heart to Miles, explaining the struggle she had with making eye contact. Vulnerability lingered in the air, but as (Y/n) looked into Miles' eyes, she noticed a mischievous glimmer dancing within them. She wondered what playful comment he had up his sleeve.

With a teasing smile playing on his lips, Miles leaned in closer, his voice filled with playful banter. "You know, I thought you didn't make eye contact with me because I'm too hot," he said, his tone infused with playful confidence.

(Y/n) blinked, caught off guard by Miles' unexpected remark. Her eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked at him blankly, her expression devoid of amusement. The room fell into an expectant silence.

"That's another reason why I don't," she responded matter-of-factly, her words cutting through the air like a knife.

Miles' jaw dropped, his confident façade crumbling in an instant. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson as he attempted to stammer out a coherent response. "You... you can't just say things like that, mami," he managed to utter, his voice a mix of embarrassment and amusement.

(Y/n) couldn't contain her laughter, a sound that filled the room with its infectious joy. She leaned back, clutching her stomach, the honesty and bluntness of her response sinking in. The sight of Miles, flustered and covering his face, only made her laugh harder.

Seeing her laughter, Miles couldn't help but join in, his own embarrassment melting away in the warmth of the moment. He peeked through his fingers, his eyes twinkling with a mixture of affection and playfulness. "You always know how to keep me on my toes, (Y/n)."

Their laughter subsided, leaving behind a comforting silence, a shared understanding between them. It was in these lighthearted moments, where vulnerabilities were exposed and teased, that their bond grew stronger. They had the ability to find humor even in their own flustered states, a testament to the depth of their connection.

As they sat there, their eyes locked, the room brimming with unspoken affection, Miles reached out and gently brushed his fingers against (Y/n)'s cheek, his touch tender and loving. "You know, (Y/n), your straightforwardness is one of the things I love about you.”

“And you’re big ass forehead is one of the reasons why I love you,” she says planting a kiss on his cheek.

“HEY!”

[uhmimlost]

Simeon has always been one of the most interesting characters in Obey me moreso because he doesn't seem like what he shows on the surface. (Spoilers ahead)

He was originally demoted to an Archangel after being a Seraph alongside Lucifer.

(This whole conversation between them was just sooo good, the mutual agony and the need to comfort each other)

He always talks openly about things he disagrees with even if he knows it opposes his higher ups, he (seemingly) did it after the war and he did so when Raphael announced Lucifer's judgement at Cocytus. All of this despite him genuinely being scared of God (it honestly seems like that is about the only thing that scares this man).

It's very melancholic how Simeon talks about the bonds the brothers have and how he is close to them but never had a chance at being 'a part of them' per say. He yearns for that kind of closeness and love and bonding and it's almost heartbreaking to think someone who often masks his emotions and how he feels had to deal with losing people so close to him so publicly.

And the fact that he didn't want it to happen again, (in this case Lucifer and MC) so he 'borrowed' the ring of light from Michael because he knew he would not be able to get it if he asked directly, all because he strongly believed that's the right thing to do. He does what he feels is right, no matter what and always speaks his truth.

He knew there would be consequences to him doing what he did, but he did it regardless and owned up to the consequences and blamed no one for it.

Here's some of my other favourite things about his character;

1. His relationship with Lucifer

His dynamic with 'Lucy' is genuinely so heartwarming. They seem to know each other too well and feel very comfortable around each other. They know how the other thinks and always seek each other out for advice or chats. It's always fun to see how cheeky Lucifer gets with Simeon and the other way round, both of whom don't show this side of themselves easily. The way Lucifer tries to act all indifferent but was probably the most concerned alongside Solomon when Simeon lost his powers.

2. Nobody can tell what he's thinking; he masks his emotions really well

Diavolo himself talks about how he thinks Simeon is hard to read and in fact difficult to talk to. It's an interesting dynamic in itself because Simeon's the kind of person who has no enemies but there is some level of discomfort distinctly visible amongst the two.

He also has wrath as his attribute, an emotion he does not openly show as often. It's actually quite funny because while he's running his cafe we see time and time again his anger is something everyone is terrified of.

Even in the latest chapter he's struggling but when asked is like nah I'm good. He's very playful in his demeanor, and although immensely kind and patient, he still lacks certain 'angelic' qualities considering he has also been selfish and deceptive.

3. Simeon is a source of comfort to everyone

He's a source of comfort to both Luke and MC and has time and time again been the source of advice and a confidant to MC.

He also made Solomon feel like he has a place to call home and people who care for him (filling some part of one of the issues at the core of Solomon) He goes out of his way to look after this whole grown ass adult.

As Lucifer put it, his ability to get the brothers to calm down with his kindness and quick thinking is something very unique to him.

Lucifer also talks about Simeon really being the only 'normal' one and someone he can talk to in the celestial realm.

----------

All in all I feel like there's a lot more I could talk about him, but feel free to add more to this. Man needs all the love he can get right now with all that's happening to him. :)

[moonselune]

I have had a thought.

I was playing bg3, making a sorcerer tav and I saw one of the options was draconic bloodline and it gives your scales on your face.

I thought it was really cool and I was wondering if maybe you could write something about how companions (mainly astarion and halsin) would react to tav having scales. Like imagine when they first met tav covered their face and then boom! Handsome man with dragon scales.

What do you think about it? TOODLES

Draconic sorceror is literally one of my favourite classes and I love to think what the companions would think of the scales (they would all love them)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

When you first met Astarion, you were prepared for the usual reactions: curious stares, uneasy glances, or the rare, but always tiresome, gasp of surprise. After all, dragon scales covering your face were not something most people encountered in their daily lives. The faint, iridescent sheen that danced across your scales in the light often drew attention, and not always the good kind.

But Astarion’s reaction was different. When his eyes first landed on you, there was no trace of fear or discomfort—only fascination. His gaze lingered on your face, his lips curving into a sly smile as he approached you with that effortless grace of his.

“My, my,” he had murmured, his voice low and smooth as silk. “Aren’t you a sight to behold? I’ve seen many things in my time, but nothing quite like you.”

You remember the way he had reached out, as if asking for permission to touch, his fingers hovering just above your skin. When you had nodded, slightly surprised but intrigued, he had traced the contours of your scales with a delicate touch, as though they were made of the finest glass.

“Beautiful,” Astarion had whispered, almost to himself. His eyes had been filled with something akin to awe, and you had felt a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with your draconic blood. “Absolutely captivating.”

As your relationship deepened -and you became able to trust his honeyed words once more, you found that Astarion’s fascination with your scales only grew. He loved to explore them with his hands, his lips, and his words. On quiet nights, after the day’s battles and struggles were behind you, he would often lie beside you, his eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that made your heart race.

One such evening, you were lying together in your tent, the firelight casting flickering shadows across the walls. The camp was quiet, the others having settled in for the night, leaving you and Astarion in the comforting cocoon of each other’s company.

Astarion’s head rested on your chest, his fingers lazily tracing the lines of your scales. His touch was light, almost reverent, as if he were committing every inch of you to memory. He lifted his head slightly, his gaze meeting yours, a small, affectionate smile playing on his lips.

“Have I told you how much I adore these?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper as his fingers continued their journey across your face.

“Once or twice,” you replied with a smile, your own voice tinged with amusement. But the truth was, hearing him say it never got old. There was something deeply comforting in the way Astarion admired this part of you that others had often feared or found unsettling.

Astarion chuckled, the sound low and warm, before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the edge of your jaw where the scales began. His lips were soft, cool against the warmth of your skin, and he took his time, moving slowly along the line of your scales, kissing each one with care.

You closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you, a deep sense of peace settling in your chest. His kisses traveled up your cheek, his breath warm against your skin as he continued his slow exploration.

“You are truly magnificent,” he murmured against your temple, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “Every time I look at you, I find something new to fall in love with.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to gently run your fingers through his silver hair, the strands slipping like silk between your fingers.

“I’m glad you think so,” you replied, your voice full of emotion. “Because I can’t imagine my life without you.”

Astarion pulled back slightly to meet your gaze, his eyes shining with a mixture of affection and something deeper, something almost possessive.

“You won’t have to,” he said firmly, his tone leaving no room for doubt. “I’m not going anywhere, my dearest dragon.”

He leaned in to kiss you fully on the lips, his mouth warm and insistent against yours. The kiss was slow, deliberate, a silent promise that echoed the words he had just spoken. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the tent.

“Now, let’s see if I can find any more scales to admire,” Astarion teased, his playful grin returning as his fingers resumed their exploration, trailing down your neck and across your shoulders. You laughed softly, the sound filled with both amusement and contentment.

“Take your time,” you whispered, your voice laced with affection. “I’m not going anywhere either.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

When you first met Halsin, you could feel his gaze on you the moment you walked into the camp. As a draconic sorcerer, you were no stranger to stares—people often found your dragon scales captivating or intimidating. The scales that adorned your face were a visible mark of your draconic heritage, shimmering with an iridescent hue that caught the light in ways that made them almost seem alive. But Halsin’s gaze wasn’t one of fear or unease. No, his eyes were filled with something deeper, something that made your breath catch in your throat.

Halsin was a man of nature, someone who revered the natural world in all its forms. When he looked at you, it was as though he was seeing a rare and beautiful creature, something that had been crafted by the hands of the gods themselves. His brown eyes, warm and earthy, followed you with a mixture of admiration and a hint of something more—a longing that he tried to suppress, not wanting to come on too strong.

It wasn’t long before the two of you grew closer, your connection deepening with each passing day. Halsin’s reverence for nature extended to his reverence for you, and as your relationship became more established, he no longer held back his admiration for your unique features.

One evening, you were sitting together by the campfire, the warmth of the flames casting a soft glow across the camp. Halsin sat beside you, his large frame a comforting presence. He reached out, his hand hovering near your face, and you could see the hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still unsure whether you were comfortable with such an intimate gesture.

“May I?” he asked, his voice low and full of respect.

You nodded, offering him a small smile. “Of course, Halsin.”

His hand, large and calloused from years of working with the earth, gently cupped the side of your face. His thumb brushed against the scales that covered your cheek, and a shiver ran down your spine at the tenderness of his touch. Halsin’s eyes were locked onto yours, his expression one of pure adoration.

“Your scales,” he murmured, his voice filled with awe, “are truly magnificent. I’ve seen many wonders in nature, but none as captivating as you.”

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, your heart swelling with affection for the druid who had come to mean so much to you. Halsin’s hand moved slowly, his fingers tracing the contours of your scales as though he were mapping every detail, committing it to memory. There was something almost worshipful in the way he touched you, as if he believed you to be the finest creature nature had ever produced.

“Do you know,” Halsin continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, “that every time I look at you, I am reminded of the power and beauty of the natural world? Your scales are a testament to that—a blend of strength and grace, as all things in nature should be.”

You couldn’t help the flush that rose to your cheeks, though you knew it would be barely noticeable against your scales. Halsin’s words had a way of cutting through any insecurities you might have had, filling you with a sense of pride in who you were and what you represented.

“I’ve always thought of my scales as a reminder of where I come from,” you admitted, your voice soft as you gazed into Halsin’s eyes. “But you make me feel like they’re something more, something to be proud of.”

Halsin smiled then, a warm and gentle expression that made your heart skip a beat. “They are a gift, as are you,” he said, his thumb stroking your cheek once more. “A gift from the dragons to the world, and I am honored to be in your presence.”

He leaned in then, his lips brushing against your scales in a series of soft, reverent kisses. Each one sent a thrill through you, a reminder of the deep connection you shared with this man who saw you not just as a sorcerer, but as something truly extraordinary.

As he continued to kiss along the line of your scales, you closed your eyes, letting the sensation wash over you. Halsin’s touch was grounding, his presence a balm to your soul. He treated you with a respect that went beyond mere affection—it was as though he truly believed you to be the embodiment of nature’s finest work.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes met yours, and you could see the depth of his feelings reflected in them.

“You are a wonder,” he said softly, his hand still resting on your cheek. “And I will never tire of telling you so.”

You smiled, leaning into his touch, your heart full to bursting with the love and admiration you felt for this man who had so completely captivated you in return. “And I will never tire of hearing it,” you replied, your voice filled with warmth.

Halsin’s smile widened, and he leaned in to kiss you on the lips, a tender, lingering kiss that spoke of all the things he couldn’t put into words. When he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet of the night.

“Stay with me,” he whispered, his voice full of a quiet plea. “Always.”

“Always,” you echoed, your voice full of promise. And as you sat there together, the fire crackling softly beside you, you knew that there was nowhere else you would rather be.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Aww some wholesome stuff with Astarion and Halsin, love it. Hope you guys enjoyed it too! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[vixstarria]

Admit that you love me

Connected with my other headcanon fics, but works as a standalone as well.

Astarion x Reader, Astarion x Tav, Astarion x Bard Tav, Astarion is bad at feelings, Gale is bad at everything

Bit of angst, bit of comfort, bit of fluff, love, banter, humour and all the other good things. Non-explicit. Early Act 2.

Approximately 2,000 words. 

AO3

You traversed the shadow-cursed lands. Earlier this week, Elminster had showed up, eaten all your cheese, essentially told Gale to kill himself and promptly went back to wherever he had come from. And you thought 200 year-old vampires were erratic... You hoped you would never come across a vampire wizard.  

It was an average evening in camp. You and your companions were passing time by the fire before calling it a day. 

You were sitting on the ground before the campfire, as Astarion sat on a fallen log behind you, trying to massage a crick out of your neck and shoulders. You weren’t even being obnoxious about it, your neck had genuinely been killing you and he was trying to alleviate the pain and discomfort.  

You’d closed your eyes and leaned forward a bit, trying to give him better access, when a remark from Gale caught your ear, and the hands stilled. 

“It’s truly heartwarming to see how well Astarion takes care of his livestock.” 

In the sudden silence that ensued, before you had even registered your own emotions for the insult, your immediate instinct was to seize the hand that was still on your shoulder, and say: 

“If you kill him, he’ll take us all with him.” 

It turned out to be the right call, as Astarion re-sheathed a dagger you hadn’t even noticed he had drawn (or had on him), and gave your hand a small squeeze.  

“I... I’m sorry, that was a poor joke.” Gale looked at the ground shaking his head. “If you can call it that. I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He started to get up. “I better-” 

“Disrespect my lover or me again, and I will personally burn everything that you cherish, and rip out the throat of every person you hold dear.” Astarion’s voice was an icicle. “I won’t kill you… But I will fulfill my need to hear you scream.” 

Astarion gave your hand another squeeze and got up. He met your eyes as you turned back to look at him, and gave you a barely perceptible shake of the head before stalking off.  

Gale, who had stood silently through Astarion’s cold outburst, wordlessly turned and left in the opposite direction. 

You still sat on the ground, elbows on your knees, eyes shut, now rubbing your temples. Great. Perfectly normal (in accordance with your definition of ‘normal’, anyway) evening ruined. No Astarion, Gale at a new lowest low, awkward silence, you still with a crick in your neck, and now an unfolding headache. All while feeling like you’ve been spat on.  

“Is that what you all think?” you asked quietly, still rubbing your temples. “That I’m a stupid lamb offering myself to a wolf for slaughter?” 

To your surprise, it was Lae’zel who answered.  

“It is true that the vampire is a predator, and there is hunger and lust in his eyes when he looks at you. But there is also love and yearning. You both carry it. My people are proficient in recognising it, for we are taught from a young age to quash such notions at their conception. Love and attachment make you weak. But you two, you have turned it into a source of resilience and strength. The wizard is as delusional as he is out of line.”  

You were completely taken aback by what you just heard. 

Firstly, by the fact it came from Lae’zel. But also... You hadn’t actually exchanged words of love with each other. Oh, there were the ‘my love’s, but that was more of a silly casual pet name that had started long ago. You both regularly addressed Karlach as ‘love’ as well. It didn’t mean much. 

But to have a githyanki set it out for you so candidly...  

“...I couldn’t have said it better myself, Lae’zel,” spoke Shadowheart.  

“Aw, none of us doubt you or fangs,” added Karlach. “Hells, sometimes I worry my heart will have a meltdown not from exertion, but from seeing you two.” 

You hoped no one could tell your face had coloured scarlet by the light of the fire. 

“Gale just hasn’t been himself lately. I’m sorry you and Astarion took the brunt of it. I’m sure he feels awful about this.” Wyll apologised as though he had anything to do with it. “I better go speak to him, make sure he knows we understand.”  

You excused yourself and went to your tent soon after as well.  

Astarion didn’t return that night. On checking his tent, you noted he did take his weapons with him, though. That’s all you really needed to know. He could take care of himself. After all, he was one of the horrors other people were scared to encounter in the shadows. Still, when you finally fell asleep, it was only due to sheer exhaustion. 

~ 

It was morning when he finally showed up at the entrance to your tent. Probably. You could barely tell night from day in this blasted place. You were sitting cross-legged on your bedroll, getting ready for the day ahead. You didn’t get up to greet him as you continued to fasten the belts and buckles of your equipment. 

“I was worried.” 

“I know,” he said simply. When you didn’t say anything, he sighed and added: “And I was angry. Furious, actually. Murderous. I didn’t want you to see it.” 

You bit back a swear. 

“I can-” 

“Before you say you can handle my anger, that’s not the point. I don’t want you, of all people, to be exposed to it to begin with.” You frowned and he continued: 

“When everyone keeps telling you you’re a monster, eventually you no longer want to prove them wrong – you want to show them just how much of a monster you can be. And you’re the only person who doesn’t think that about me. Why on earth would I do anything that might make you look at me the same as they do..?” 

It broke your heart a little to realise that that’s what he thought. 

“They don’t think you’re a monster, Star,” you said imploringly. “Gale said something stupid which he immediately regretted, yes, but the rest of them were on our side.” You made sure he was taking in what you were saying. “On your side.” 

“...They were?” Astarion’s eyes softened. 

“Yes. Lae’zel gave a whole speech, just about.” 

“Ugh,” Astarion curled his lip. “And I thought you were serious for a moment there.” 

“I am serious! She was quite poetic about it, actually.” 

Astarion suddenly took a step back out of your tent, looking up at the sky in alarm. 

“What is it?!” you reached for your bow. 

“Oh just checking for flying pigs...” he stepped back into the tent. “...So what did she say? I’m intrigued.” He still looked skeptical, but much less guarded than before.  

You paused your preparations, set down your weapons and met his gaze. 

“She said she sees the love in your eyes.” 

You weren’t about to tell him that she actually said she saw love in your eyes as well.  

“Oh...” Astarion seemed momentarily taken aback. “That is quite poetic for a githyanki.” 

You continued to study him without saying a word. 

“...Oh no. No no no.” He waved a finger at you. “I see EXACTLY what you’re doing, and I am NOT falling for it.” 

“What am I doing? I’m not doing anything.” 

“Exactly! You’re not saying anything, forcing me to fill the silence until I start stammering like a fool and admit that I love you!” He paused, turned away and huffed, before turning back to look at you, hand on his hip. “And that is NOT on the agenda!” 

“You’re not going to admit it?” 

Astarion looked away again, wrung his hands, opened his mouth as if to say something, closed it, and looked back at you, cocking his head to one side before finally saying:  

“...Not today..?” 

You burst into a laugh. How long had your heart been pounding? 

“Gaaaaaale! Old buddy, old pal!” you heard from Astarion. 

You lifted your head to see Gale approaching.  

Fucking Gale, you thought.  

You got up to face Gale at the entrance to your tent. 

“Morning! I would say ‘good morning’, only that would be a lie for all of us, in light of-” 

“Oh for the love of all that is unholy!” Astarion cut him off. “Spare me your words and drawn-out explanations, and I will spare you my daggers. We don’t need that. We can sort this out like two mature, adult men.” 

The next thing you knew, Gale was on the ground, looking in disbelief at the blood dripping onto his hand from a possibly broken nose.  

“There. Now, for all intents and purposes, this matter can be resolved, if you wish. As previously advised, in the event of any further disparagement of me, Tav, or the nature of our relationship, I WILL be committing arson and turning everyone you love and care for inside out, Tav being exempt, of course. Now that this has been explained to you, if you accept, the damage you just took to your face can serve as compensation, to the full and final satisfaction and discharge of the idiotic shit you said yesterday. Are we in agreement?” 

Astarion held out a hand 

You stood back observing Astarion, your arms crossed. Theatrics to cattiness to violence to legalese within the span of a minute. How flustered and giddy was this man? 

Gale was still on the ground, also looking at Astarion incredulously.  

“I sometimes forget that you used to be something far worse than a vampire.” 

Gale accepted the offered hand and got up. 

“And you, Tav? Would you like to break the spare lute over my head, perchance?”  

Astarion perked up at that, but you were quick to protest: 

“No, no, let bygones be bygones and all that...” 

“Then it is settled,” Astarion interjected. “Well then, off you go, friend.” 

“Actually,” you cut in. “I think Shadowheart needs to rest a while. Gale could come with us today instead, seeing as you’ve sorted everything out. Gale, are you up for it?” you asked as Astarion stared at you in disbelief. 

After the borderline sleepless night you’d had because of these two idiots, the least they could do was entertain you by suffering each other’s company.  

“...Sure, let me just ah... do something about the blood. I’ll only be a minute.” 

And just like that, you and Astarion were back on your usual bullshit, causing a loud ruckus as you headed out of camp, him on your heels.

“I object! It’s ME or HIM! And if it’s him, you can give me my ring back!” 

Wyll snapped his head in surprise to look at you two, as Karlach gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.  

Astarion paused as if to say something to them, then waved a dismissive hand and continued walking after you. 

“...Because I am NOT dying in camp like a sitting duck just because HE couldn’t keep you safe!” 

“It’s my ring now, and you’re both coming! And so is Lae’zel. Lae, are you ready?” 

“Always,” came an unperturbed answer from the githyanki, as she got up to follow you. 

“There. She can lecture you on poetry, between the fighting.” 

Astarion had finally caught up to you.  

“You cheeky pup,” he said only loud enough for you to hear, his red eyes narrowed and a wry grin on his face. “We’ll need to have a long talk about your behaviour.” 

“Is that on the agenda? For today?” 

Astarion swore under his breath, smiled to himself and fell back again. 

Yep, definitely flustered, you thought, fighting a stupid grin that was threatening to take over your face.  

Oh you were going to enjoy this day. 

~~~~~ 

Author’s note: 

Sorry bloodweave gang, my headcanon is Gale and Astarion are constantly beefing.  

I wanted to work in the “disrespect me again” line from Early Access – although I ended up altering it. A lot. 

~~~~~

Next in series - Confession

OR, chronologically appropriate smut - Seeing stars

Series master list

AO3

[solarsa1nt]

𐚁֙࿐ NIGHTMARE

ryōmen sukuna x fem!reader

Tags — fluff , hurt/comfort , nightmares , background established yuuji/reader

Notes — none

With a gasp, Y/N shoots awake, hands clenched tightly into the sheets as she breathes heavily, cold sweat running down her face.

Another nightmare? Y/N wonders, goosebumps spreading across her skin from the cold as she glances at the alarm clock that was set on the nightstand next to her.

3:17 a.m.

Y/N let's out a tired sigh, laying back down as she glances at her still asleep boyfriend, grateful she hadn't waken him up.

Turning the other way, Y/N curls into herself, seeking the warmth the blanket failed to provide, her efforts being ultimately worthless as another shudder runs down her spine.

She could... Y/N frowns pensively, sitting up again to look down at Yuuji.

He let me stay last time but... Chewing on her lip until blood starts to spill, Y/N puts a hesitant hand on her boyfriend's body, cursed energy reaching down—

In an instant, Y/N felt herself falling, landing into room-tempature water as she glances up at the king of curses, who in turn gives her a bored look.

"Again?" Sukuna quirks an eyebrow, head cocking to the side in curiosity— or an act of curiosity, Y/N could never really tell when he was being genuine.

"Sorry..." Y/N ducks her head down in shame, already regretting her impulsive decision.

She should have just dealt with it, why would she think this is a good idea? Should've just counted herself lucky she didn't die last time and—

"If I wanted you gone, you would be gone." Sukuna scoffs, closing his main pair of eyes as his other stay watching Y/N.

"Huh? How..."

"Unlike the brat, I'm not blind, you look like a kicked puppy." Sukuna scoffs before his expression falls back to one of boredom.

"I couldn't care less about what you do, just don't be annoying." Sukuna waves a dismissive hand at her as his other props up his head.

"R-Right..." Y/N nods, pushing herself up to sit on one of the skulls near the bottom of the throne, not wanting to spend anymore time in the water.

Although, her clothes were surprisingly dry. Did the water not affect clothing?

Tucking her knees to her chest, Y/N leans forward with her eyes drooping shut, exhaustion catching up to her as she wobbles between the line of falling asleep and consciousness.

Y/N's eyes scrunch further shut out of discomfort, burying her face further in her knees as her eyes threaten to open, skin feeling all to tight as she shifts uncomfortably.

Before her state could spiral downwards further, cursed energy wraps around her tightly, grounding her as she shakily exhales.

Y/N didn't end up processing who exactly did that until morning, as she fell unconscious soon after.

Sukuna looks down at Y/N unconscious figure, expression blank for a moment before he rises, walking down to stand in front of her.

"It's like you have no grasp I could kill you at any moment." Sukuna grins in amusement, hooking an arm under her knees as the other rests of her back, her head lolling over to rest against his chest

"What a fool." Despite the harsh words, there was a fond look in his eyes as Sukuna looks down at the sleeping girl in his hold.

© 𝓢OLARSAINT 2024 ─── all of my works belong me alone! do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or spread any of my works in any other social media platform. these have only been reloaded on my own accounts on ao3 and wattpad

[freekicks]

I suppose I’m not sure what you want me to do here. I could explain what a kink is or do some psychosexual analysis on why some men are into “daddies,” but I think all that would accomplish is bringing us both five minutes closer to our last breaths on earth. If it’s not something you’re into, and it’s between two consenting adults, then I don’t see why it’s our business. I’m also unsure how, as someone who is reading erotic stories in their spare time, “daddies” is the subject that compelled you to write a letter to your local advice columnist. I have read things in the realm of smut that would make the common “daddy fetish” story look like “Goodnight Moon.” Come back to me when you reach the cold, hard bottom of the slash fic iceberg. You also seem to be conflating real-world relationships with erotica. These are not the same. Sure, there can be overlap, but to go from “this fictional character crossed a line in a fictional story” to “and that’s why I’m uncomfortable with people who remind me of that character” suggests, to me, that you took a wrong turn or two navigating this ethical corn maze. It’s not even a script limited to gays. I mean, mainstream pop culture is littered with what I would consider “daddy trope” dynamics. There’s a whole genre of beauties falling for beasts. There’s a popular children’s movie about it with a singing teapot and a fruity candelabra. What is a beast, if not a daddy by another name? You be the judge. I’m certainly in no place to dictate what makes you uncomfortable. I can see how you might look at, say, a large age gap between two adults in a sexual dynamic and think, “weird!” I’ve had thoughts like that as well. But I think discomfort in and of itself is not always a surefire sign that something immoral is afoot. Discomfort can be caused by any number of factors—personal experiences, biases, preferences, and so on. [...] Sadly, it’s all too common to see people exploit power dynamics—experience, money, fame, access, etc.—for personal gain. But this isn’t exclusive to age. All three times that I’ve been violated by men, the men have been around my age. Abuse can happen in any dynamic, and while I, too, find comfort in the notion that abuse can be easily sniffed out ahead of time, that there will reliably be telltale red flags, that’s just not how things typically work. I’m also reluctant to abide by the increasingly popular belief that “power dynamics” are inherently manipulative. The reality is, there are power dynamics in every relationship. If you are involved with another person, then you have entered an uneven playing field or two. No two people will be exactly the same age, same economic class, same appearance (I hope????), and so on, and so forth. This is not violence. This is dating. These are things that have to be worked through and navigated with mutual respect. There is risk involved, yes, but risk cannot be entirely avoided in life. I hope I’m not coming across as harsh, Confused! I think, or at least hope, that you’re coming from a place of genuine concern for others and, to be sure, I’d never want to outright dismiss anyone on a subject as serious and prevalent as abuse. But on the other hand, I find myself a member of a community presently under attack by accusations of “grooming” and predation. It’s made me particularly sensitive to insinuations from any political stripe that the gays are sex monsters trolling for their next victim, or that we’re all just victims in waiting, idling around until one of those nasty older gays creeps up and takes advantage of our vulnerabilities. I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing here, but again, what two consenting adults (ADULTS) do is not my business. I can make my own judgments, but I don’t have to give my rubber stamp of approval on it. I don’t have to formally condone or condemn it. If harm hasn’t been explicitly stated, then I won’t read harm into it just because I’m uncomfortable. I am not entitled to a perpetual state of comfort.

-Advice Columnist Hola Papi (aka John Paul Brammer) responding to a letter writer who was uncomfortable about the prevalence of daddy kink in gay erotic fiction.

just thought this might be relevant to a certain fandom right now...

[mahoushojo-chan]

Astarion x Tav || sickfic

can you keep me close? (can you love me most?)

synopsis: her vision is foggy, but she's fairly certain she can discern an angelic figure by her bedside, radiating a brilliant white or perhaps a gentle golden hue, accentuated by the candlelight in the dim room. then, the soothing radiance recedes slightly, and the angel utters, "you're an idiot," with a casual air, the words tinged with a devilish tone.

an excerpt of 'cause my love (is mine, all mine)

word count: 1435

pairing: astarion/tav

other tags: f!reader, bard!tav, half-elf!tav, hurt/comfort, sickfic, non-sexual intimacy, romantic tension, friends to lovers, the usual at this point, song inspo: someone to stay - vancouver sleep clinic

ao3: here

concept: sickfic!!

Tav isn’t really sure what’s happening.

Actually, the whole past twelve hours have been a little blurry—memories and movements kept blending themselves in a non-cohesive way, she kept forcing her limbs to move but they would trail sluggishly behind, and she isn’t sure where she is right now.

When she feels something cool on her forehead, she finally startles.

Her vision is foggy, but she's fairly certain she can discern an angelic figure by her bedside, radiating a brilliant white or perhaps a gentle golden hue, accentuated by the candlelight in the dim room. Then, the soothing radiance recedes slightly, and the angel utters, "You're an idiot," with a casual air, the words tinged with a devilish tone.

Ah, naturally. She had never expected to receive her very own angel. It seemed more likely that the gods would send an eerie, skeleton-like old codger, draped in tattered robes, who would speak in cryptic riddles to assist her, or a dream guardian that, in reality, turned out to be a peculiar, haughty tentacled creature with aspirations of dominating all other races in the world with mind-controlling parasites.

She squints and blinks repeatedly until Astarion comes into sharper focus. He's seated in a chair, legs crossed, arms folded, and appears quite displeased. She vaguely recollects a caregiver mentioning bringing some medicine, and fervently hopes that her current company isn't the result of that promise. After all, her companion is one of the last individuals she wishes to see right now.

The situation is rather embarrassing. She's cocooned in blankets that are overly warm, her hair is in disarray, she can't quite manage to open her eyes completely, and her muscles are protesting, urging her to remain at rest. She's determined not to let Astarion witness her in this state or feel sorry for her.

Her first instinct is to apologize, especially under his scrutinizing gaze. Instead, she insists, “I’m dying. Can’t you be a little nicer?”

“Oh, goodness me. Perhaps I’ll just leave you to suffer this horrible affliction alone,” he offers, hand on his chest in mock offense as he gets up, pretending to leave.

“Good. You don’t need to take care of me—”

She reaches out for her hat and makes an attempt to rise, but Astarion places his hands on her shoulders, gently guiding her back onto the bed. His touch, once more, carries a soothing coolness, alleviating the hot discomfort and muscle soreness. "Oh, no, no, no. Absolutely not. I am not suffering another heart attack because of everyone’s favourite idiot again," he admonishes her, and she blinks in surprise, as it almost seems like he's expressing genuine concern for her.

“I’m not everyone’s favourite idiot,” she protests, weakly, even as he presses her back into the mattress to lie down.

“No, but you’re mine.” He says, perched on top of her. He's leaning above her now, effectively pinning her to the bed. He senses her slight movement beneath him, though it's hard to discern if she's merely shifting or genuinely attempting to break free, given her frail state.

Nevertheless, he gazes down at her from above, her hair splayed across the pillowcase, her face flushed, eyes half-closed, disheveled clothing, and heavy breaths. He realizes the position he’s in and releases her quickly, flustered. He hides this by opting to fetch a drink of water from his waterskin for her.

“You—you could have said something, you know.” He continues, smoothly. “Before it got this bad.”

“You had other things on your mind. Didn’t want you to worry about me,” she mumbles, but Astarion detects the slight slur in her words. He lifts the glass to her lips, eyes lingering on its shape, and she takes a sip of the cold liquid, letting out a soft moan of relief.

“Don’t want you to get sick, either.” She adds, snapping him out of his reverie.

“Thinking your companion is going to die after they randomly collapse is very worrying, so you know.” Astarion chides, putting away the waterskin. “And also, I’m far too dead to contract such a simple illness. Dalyria says it’s from exhaustion—something you’re suffering from more than me, for once.”

He’s really sure that she’s dying now. She does not retort, and against all odds, it seems that she actually managed to fall asleep again. It makes sense to him that her sickness might be getting slightly worse. When he first touched her forehead, it felt scorching to the touch, and she's now buried beneath several layers of blankets, almost swallowed by the bedding.

Astarion takes in the sorry state of the room. There's a soiled towel nearby with remnants of vomit. He observes her shivering, her clothes clinging to her body, drenched in sweat.

Astarion sets out to gather some supplies—more towels, additional water, and some rations. They were running low on food, but as long as she could sustain herself, he wasn't too concerned.

He watches her as she drifts in and out of consciousness, noting her increasing confusion, likely due to the worsening fever. She mumbles about things he can't quite make out as he settles with a book to keep her company while he monitors her condition.

He glances up from the pages periodically as she rests on the makeshift bed, wrapped in old, dusty blankets. Astarion stokes the nearby fireplace to provide warmth, even though she appears to be sweating profusely, so he's unsure if it's the best idea.

She did seem to be relieved by his touch, though. To check on her condition once more, he reaches out and gently brushes her hair to the side to touch her forehead. She initially flinches, and he moves to withdraw his hand—until she grips his wrist. It’s a feeble hold, but she keeps his hand pressed against her face.

He realizes he doesn’t feel repulsed by her actions at all. It’s true, she’s using him—quite literally, as some sort of relief—but it feels like she needs him in this moment. He can’t pretend not to like the thought of being needed, even wanted by her.

He wonders, as an extension of that line of thought, if he would be okay with kissing her. Reflecting on his past experiences with the drow, he remembers the familiar, lingering disgust and self-hatred that typically arose. However, Tav doesn't evoke any of those emotions within him. His hand drifts, and his thumb traces her bottom lip gently. It's not smooth or plump; it's dry and cracked. Somehow, that makes it feel more authentic, and the question lingers in his mind.

But he doesn’t need that. He can get physical affection from anywhere. He just… likes this. That’s all it is. That’s all it has to be, right? This is rarer—he wouldn’t give this up for the world.

So he doesn’t allow his thoughts to wander beyond that.

But seeing her reluctance to let him go stirs something within him. It’s a tug at the depths of his chest, an undeniable ache. Well, if he could be of help to her like this, then who was he to deny her? After all, it wasn’t as if they hadn’t shared moments like this before.

He proceeds with caution, making every effort to avoid disturbing her as the bed slightly dips underneath his weight. He pulls the blanket over both of them and he draws her near, and she emits a soft sigh as her arms instinctively encircle him, warming his chest.

In the absence of a clock, Astarion loses track of time as he remains in bed beside her. He devotes most of it to observing her, running his fingers through her hair with a gentle touch. It's an act one might do with a lover, although she remains unconscious. He could murmur tender words, and she would remain unaware. Even if she happened to hear, he suspected her current state of mind would prevent her from retaining the information. No, this is for his own solace, and he finds it strangely comforting.