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little-diable · 2 months ago

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Commands - Draco Malfoy (smut)

A small Drabble I wrote at work lol. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Draco is reader’s step-brother, something he doesn’t seem to care about while asking her to put her mouth to work. Pwp

Warnings: 18+, oral (m), degrading, stepcest, dumbification, slight slapping

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x fem!reader (1.1k words)

“Draco?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes burning in exhaustion as she looked at the dark frame. She had been woken by the sound of his feet stepping onto the one spot of the old wooden flooring creaking too loudly. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet!” Her breath instantly hitched in her chest, eyes zoning in on her step brother who stepped closer to her bed. She didn’t dare speak another word, too focused on the man who had always treated her with spite and anger, at least for most parts of the day. At night he behaved differently, as if his demons finally managed to get the upper hand, guiding his lust and longing for his step sister.

“I’m tired, Draco.” (Y/n) sighed her words before plopping back down on the mattress. She was about to cover her barely clothed body with her blanket, but Draco was faster. He ripped the fabric from her fingers, exposing the shirt of his she wore, managing to cover the lacy pair of panties she knew Draco loved.

Perhaps she had hoped for another visit, perhaps she had prayed that he’d find her again. Longings she didn’t dare put into words, at least not out loud.

“Don’t lie to me, we both know you’re a greedy fucking whore for your step brother, aren’t you?” He kneeled on the mattress, forcing her legs apart to settle between them. His cold fingers danced over her arms, moving up to her shoulders before one hand came down on her throat, letting his fingers grasp her. “Answer me.”

“Yes.” She only managed to press a whisper past her clenched teeth, trying not to give in all that easily. Draco had always managed to gain the upper hand, to guide her while she got lost in the waves of pleasure like a raft losing its path in the icy river it was sailing on.

“Good. I need those pretty lips wrapped around me.” He hadn’t been able to find any rest, unable to give in to sleep's quiet call. Draco’s mind had been too active, thinking of the woman sleeping only a few rooms down from his, wondering what she was dreaming of. (Y/n) was haunting his thoughts, had been ever since their parents had gotten married years ago. He had tried to stay away, all until her twenty-first birthday they had celebrated together, a night where he had claimed her for the first of many times.

(Y/n) rose to a sitting position before she put her weight onto her knees. Draco’s hand on her throat pulled her in for a kiss, momentarily distracting her while her hands rested on his chest. Her body was covered in goosebumps as if he was winter itself, embracing the biting cold that left marks on her body, burning straight through her system.

He was the darkness, the bleak midwinter she had eventually found enjoyment in.

Draco leaned back against the headrest of her bed after pulling off his shirt, exposing his abs to her wandering eyes. He watched her free his cock, watched her spit down on the red tip just like he had taught her to months ago. By now she was a natural, knowing what he was aching for, how he needed to feel her to get that push to clear his racing mind.

His ringed fingers found her head almost instantly, forcing her down on his cock with a satisfied groan clawing through him. With his eyes pressed shut, Draco sank into her touch, allowing (y/n) to bob her head fast enough to leave him moaning. Her sounds were almost as loud as his, clawing through her while she worked her mouth on him, a sinful, forbidden mixture both had fallen in love with.

“Atta girl, your mouth’s so perfect for me.” Heat flushed through her, set on gaining as much praise as possible. Draco wasn’t one for complimenting her, wasn’t one for showering her with attention, only in those secret moments where she touched him like that would he give in and tell her how much he adored her – her body at least.

With her eyes set on his features, on his closed eyes, on the teeth nibbling on his lower lip, she kept sucking him off. The corners of her mouth were still hurting from yesterday night, a strange deja-vu she couldn’t shake as she took as much of him as possible. She didn’t care much about her own pleasure, didn’t worry much about her own highs he’d give her either way. All (y/n) was focused on was Draco, his pleasure, his sounds, the praise his body would wordlessly share with her.

He twitched in her mouth, resting heavily on her tongue. (Y/n) knew that he’d cum soon, painting her tongue white with his release – a fulfilling taste she was already aching for. Seeing a man like Draco cum was an experience itself, a moment so raw, so intimate, she sometimes found herself wondering if she was only dreaming it.

“Tell me what you’ll do, tell me the rule.” Draco pulled her off his cock, watching her saliva drip from her chin while her hand kept pumping him. (Y/n) needed a second to collect herself, pondering over his command while her throat begged for a break. She heavily swallowed as his hand came down on her cheek, not hard enough to hurt her, just with enough pressure to refocus her. “Such a dumb slut, all because you have the privilege to suck me off.”

“I’ll swallow, swallow it all!” It seemed to be good enough for Draco. He nodded his head with a smirk tugging on his lips, head tilted back down to his cock to wordlessly guide her. Almost instantly, (y/n) got back to work, lips finding their way back to his tip to suck on the head. Another moan broke through Draco, a moan that slightly trembled as his orgasm started to build.

With excitement laced in her gaze, (y/n) watched him come undone. Sweat was pearling on his forehead, making a few bright strands of his hair stick to his skin, lips parted, cheeks rosy. A moan left him as he came, filling her cheeks with his cum as she kept pumping his cock with her aching fingers.

Draco pulled her off his cock once again, staring down at her as she exposed her empty tongue to him. His thumb wiped along her lower lip, collecting some saliva before bringing his digit up to his mouth. They held eye contact as he sucked his finger clean, gazes wandering over one another’s features.

“I want you on your hands and knees when I return. Don’t you dare move.”

#Draco Malfoy smut #draco malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x Reader #Harry Potter smut #Harry Potter

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selfaware-bungou-stray-dogs · 11 months ago

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Imagine, Shibusawa accidentally activated his ability in real world.

The whole house is covered in fog. And all abilities are on a loose.

Even Crime and Punishment are gone.

But, they don't attack their respective ability users.

They are nowhere to be found.

You are also nowhere to be seen.

Worst of all, Dazai is also missing.

BSD Cast are panicking.

What, if abilities hurt you?!

BSD Cast is searching through the house.

They found you, surrounded by abilities, on the attic.

And all abilities are trying to get your attention.

🐯 Beast Beneath The Moonlight is chuffing, rubbing its head against your chest.

📒 The Matchless Poet creating knick-knacks for you.

👘🗡️ All Men Are Equal is guarding the window, taking short breaks to pet you.

🩺 Thou Shalt Not Die is applying cute bandages on smallest, almost healed cuts.

🌨️ Light Snow is recreating movie scenes with its power.

🐄 Undefeated by the Rain create stone figures with its bare hands.

🐰 Demon Show holding a plate with snacks.

Futon is manipulating electronics, changing channels, so you can watch some interesting show.

🍰💉 Vita Sexualis is making accessories for you.

🍷 Upon the Tainted Sorrow making things float for your entertainment.

🌂 Golden Demon is bringing you nice clothes.

🇫🇷 Demonic Beast Guivre is curled around you.

🎧 Illuminations is creating a hyperspace over you.

🗣️ Lippman's ability is sitting near you, guarding you.

🧥 Rashomon is glaring at everyone, who is trying to get close to you.

🚬 Falling Camelia entertain you by pushing around different things.

🩹🧲 Midwinter Memento is controlling metal pieces to create some cool figurines.

⭕⭐ Dogra Magra, as a little doll, sitting on your lap.

🍋 Lemonade is creating fireworks for you.

�� Flawless is playing cards with you.

⛩️ Hail in the Begging Bowl preparing non-alcoholic drinks for you.

💻 Discourse on Decadence is writing down interesting memories, it read from anything he could find.

🥷 Yesterday's Shadow Tag is sitting near Rashomon, protecting you.

🕶️ Another is bringing you dolls from Ayatsuji's collection.

💰 The Great Fitzgerald is bringing you cases, full of money (don't worry, it simply took them from Fitzgerald).

🦝 Black Cat in the Rue Morgue is ready to send you in any book you want.

🐋 Mody Dick is floating outside the window, ready to fly with you anywhere you want.

🍇 The Grapes of Wreath is growing grapes for you. Don't worry, they are edible.

☕ Annie of Abyss Red is playing ball with you.

🪶 Little Women is planning your weekends, while sitting in the next room

👒 Gone With the Wing is using wings to make paper butterflies fly around.

♊ Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer are floating above you, telling jokes.

✝️ The Scarlet Letter is writing your name in the air with its power.

😷 A Feast in a Time of Plague simply observing you from the corner.

🫖 The Precipice is outside, rumbling happily.

👻 The Perfect Crime is bringing you mystery novels.

⚔️ Mirror Lion is entertaining you with its sword skills.

🦇🧛 Bram's ability is handing from the sealing upside down. Protecting you.

🃏 Sigma's ability is laying near you, with its head on your lap.

🤡 The Overcoat is doing a circus performance for you.

🐀 Crime and Punishment is playing with your hair.

👧👩👵 Gasp of the Soul is cuddling your left hand.

💧 Priceless Tears is floating through the vents all over the house and bring you whatever you ask for.

🌸 Plum Blossoms in Snow is using its power to cut fruits.

⌚ Strait is the Gate is observing surroundings.

🐈‍⬛ I am a Cat is purring and doing tricks for you.

🪢🦀 Dazai, somehow, got captured, and how is in a cage, far away from anyone, he can touch to nullify.

The moment, BSD Cast stepped to the attic, abilities turned towards them, glaring at their 'hosts'.

So, you, either, will be stuck here, until Abilities decide to let you go.

Or, until BSD Cast manage to free Dazai.

#self-awarebsd #self-awareau #bungou stray dogs au #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

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dottores · 2 years ago

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HELIOTROPES

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding for snezhnaya & fatui, no other warnings

notes: i enjoyed writing this one ajfdhuaisdfuhs it was a bit of a character study for dottore, i love being able to get into his head like this

MIDWINTER

He was born without a mark. It’s not abnormal--statistically, half of the population would be born without a mark because you don’t receive your mark until your soulmate is born. Most receive theirs within the first five years of their life, if they weren’t born with one. Others are unlucky, and they have to wait up to ten.

Dottore never received his.

He waited years. When he was five years old, and other kids his age were starting to see the red thread that connected them with their soulmate, he was still waiting on his mark. When he was ten years old, and other kids his age were starting to feel their soulmate's emotions, he was still waiting on his mark. When he was fifteen years old, and other kids his age were finally seeing random words scrawled on their forearms reflecting their soulmate’s thoughts, he was still waiting on his mark.

When he was younger, he tried to convince himself it didn’t matter--that one day, his mark would show up, just like how it did for everyone else. But it was hard to convince himself of that when everyday he was reminded that he didn’t have one. He was reminded by nasty kids who would push him to the ground and laugh at him, he was reminded by equally nasty adults who whispered that only the soulless and the damned didn’t receive their soulmarks, and he was reminded by his parents who stripped him down to search him for his mark everyday so they could prove their son wasn’t cursed.

Dottore accepted that he did not have a soulmate. He would even go so far as to say he embraced it. It took him a long time to reach that mentality, years of coming to terms with it, but he firmly believed that he was better off. Having a soulmate was a mortal weakness that he was freed of--he had seen it be the downfall of many men before and he refused to meet the same fate.

Without a soulmate, he could focus on more important things. He could devote his time and energy to his research, further the Fatui in their rebellion against Celestia, and he could do it all without the weakness that all of humanity had.

He was stronger without a soulmate. It proved he was above mankind, beyond the limits that humans were confined to. He was better without a soulmate.

A harsh gust of wind battered the window of his room, ice webbing at the bottom of the glass, creeping up the sides. Dottore sighed as he lifted his hand to his face, pulling off the mask that hid him from the rest of the world.

He wasn’t sure why he was thinking about this again. His gaze drew to the mirror on the opposite side of the room, eyes tracing the rough, jagged skin across the top of his face--a product of the demonization cast over him by the people of his old village. Dottore’s lips twisted into a deep frown as he forced himself to look away, it had been a long time since he had even had a passing thought of it, much less dwelling on it as he was now.

He turned away from the mirror over to the candle resting at his nightstand--dimly lighting up the dark, spacious room. Shadows reflected eerily across the room from the trees swaying in the wind outside to the small flame dancing at his bedside. A blizzard rattled the palace around him, he wondered if it was the doing of the Tsaritsa or if it was just a natural storm.

Dottore hated the winter.

He always had. It had nothing to do with the bone-chilling weather and frequent storms. He barely could even feel the cold anymore, and he thought storms might be better for him because he could coop himself up in his lab without having to worry about the Jester disturbing his research and telling him to go on some mission. He had hated the winter even before he had left Sumeru for Snezhnaya, where the temperatures were five times as warm and the earth of the forest started to dry from a lack of rain.

Winter had always been the unluckiest time of year for him--it was when he was originally chased from the village, it was when he was cast out from the Akademiya. Winter was when he had faced some of the biggest failures of his life regarding his research into Archon residue. Winter was when the first segment he had created was destroyed. Winter was when he was dealt a fatal blow that had made him abandon his body for an artificial one.

Dottore despised the winter.

He sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes. He was tired, that was the only explanation for why his mind was wandering to such a topic. He had been able to free himself of the shackles that many mortals were restricted by--aging, natural death, even unnatural death could be avoided, for the most part, but he still found himself chained by fatigue and hunger. He could suppress it longer than the average person but it never failed to limit him.

He supposed that he should rest. Tomorrow there was to be a meeting with all of the Harbingers--discussion on what was to be done about the spots of the late 9th and 11th, who had met their end on a failed mission in Natlan earlier in the month. With the Captain finally returning with their bodies, it would be time to put them to rest and figure out how to move forward. He could already hear the bickering of Sandrone and Scaramouche, Arlecchino’s snide comments that just set the other two off even more.

Dottore thought that the whole situation was ridiculous. There had been no need to send two of the newest Harbingers down to Natlan when they all knew very well that Natlan was getting more and more aggressive to the Fatui within their borders. They had been sent on a diplomatic mission, to observe, but the Pyro Archon claimed that they had made an attempt on her life. A blatant lie, but the only ones left alive to corroborate the story were the Pyro Archon’s sycophants.

It was meant to be a challenge. The Pyro Archon was challenging the Tsaritsa to do something about her butchering two of her most loyal followers, she was hoping for a war… but Snezhnaya could not afford a war right now. Their economy was failing and the dead of winter was nigh, when all crops would start dying and animals would freeze mid-trot. Famine would begin to wrap its chilly fingers around the throats of the citizens of Snezhnaya, the bitter cold would seep into the warmest homes and it was not the time for the Fatui to war with Teyvat’s strongest military. They were already struggling politically with the old-blood aristocracy breathing down their necks and with the support of the masses, there wasn’t much that the Fatui could do to press back until they were in a better position, even with the support of the Tsaritsa herself.

Dottore pinched the bridge of his nose, the meeting was hours from beginning and he could already feel the incoming headache. He had no interest in Snezhnayan politics, he had no interest in what was to be done about the empty seats amongst the Harbingers. All he wanted to do was continue his research--the Delta segment would be returning from Sumeru at some point tomorrow to give him an update on the Irminsul project and his input was needed before Delta or any of the other older segments took any further steps.

He let out a heavy breath as he rose back to his feet, intent on changing out of his clothes and into something more comfortable before he finally laid down to rest for the night. As he rose, he felt something soft, feather-light even, brushing against his thumb. Without thinking, he reached for a handkerchief folded tidily on the edge of his bedside dresser.

He wiped off his hands without even bothering to look, figuring that it was just the remnants of the material he was working with down in his lab but as he crossed the room to his wardrobe, that strange, weightless feeling against his thumb remained.

Dottore’s eyes finally drew down to his right hand, curiosity getting the best of him, as always. And he stared, for a second and then two before a laugh bubbled in his chest, begging to be released.

Not for the first time, he thought that the gods had a sick and twisted sense of humor because wrapped neatly around his thumb was that thin, red thread that supposedly tied him to his soulmate, over four hundred and fifty years late.

He thought it was strange how everything around him moved on as normal as if his whole world hadn’t been shattered in a matter of five seconds the night before. He wasn’t able to sleep after noticing the thread and he hadn’t been able to bring himself to look for the soulmark that was undoubtedly branded somewhere on his body.

He felt weak. Mortal, again. He hated it.

“Then we wait,” Sandrone said dryly, her sharp voice drawing Dottore back into the conversation. His eyes left the red thread for the first time since he arrived at the meeting, flickering up to where the woman was resting in a chair, a large automaton standing behind her. “Why give a seat to someone unworthy? We’ll wait until two have proven their strength and they can-”

“And how long will that take?” Scaramouche’s voice was cold and grating as he interrupted Sandrone and Dottore’s lips thinned, realizing the inevitable argument between the Sixth and the Seventh was about to begin.

“However long it takes,” Sandrone responded, voice little over a hiss, blue eyes flinty.

“Ah, yes, yet another a bright idea from the Seventh. Let’s just leave the spots empty when enemies are on our doorstep, show even more weakness,” Scaramouche scoffed, not even bothering to hide the way he rolled his eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

“If you have a better idea, Balladeer, please, speak up with it,” Sandrone replied. “I’d love to…”

The thread was vibrating.

Dottore’s gaze flickered down beneath his mask to where his hands were resting on the ebony table, tuning out the conversation around him as he focused on the red string. He could barely feel it, much less see the little vibrations, but he was hyper-focused on it now. It was uneven thrums, as if someone was flicking the thread over and over again--they were getting faster, more impatient, and Dottore couldn’t help but think back to his childhood, when he was five years old and would watch other kids his age laying in the grass snapping their string incessantly, waiting for a responding snap from their soulmate.

His eyes flickered to the wide windows on the far side of the room, the blizzard still raged outside but he could see the sun rising in the distance.

So, you’re finally awake, he thought to himself, gaze drawing back to his thumb as the thrums got more and more insistent. A child. His soulmate was a child right now--excited at waking up to the appearance of the thread, hoping that their soulmate was just as excited as they were. Dottore had, for a long time, believed that his heart had gone cold and dead and he did not like the ache he felt in his empty chest.

A weakness. Just like that, he was brought down to the level of man.

Soulmates were blinding, they caused people to act with their heart and not their head. Dottore prided himself on being a man that removed his heart from decision making. He put nothing above furthering his research--no morals, no virtues, no principles came before his success and he could not allow this to change anything.

He had gone this long without a soulmate, he didn’t need one now.

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off the vibrating thread no matter how hard he tried. He could hear the conversation continuing around him but it sounded like a distant buzz--nothing could break his concentration on the thread, not even himself, and before he knew what he was doing, he was lifting his pointer finger and flicking it down, right on the string.

He inhaled as discreetly as he could once he realized what he had done, straightening in his seat. The vibrations from the opposite end had stopped instantly, and then all at once: one, two, three, four flicks.

Excitement, but all Dottore could feel was dread sinking in his stomach.

He could feel a pair of eyes on him. Dottore forced his gaze up to where the Tenth was sitting across from him, green eyes trained on his hand. Dottore’s lips flattened. Did he know? How would he know? But even with the mask adorning his face, the Tenth must have felt Dottore’s livid glare, looking up with a sheepish smile as he motioned to his own hand, his pointer finger, as if he was trying to show Dottore what he was looking at.

Dottore’s ring.

Of course, Dottore thought to himself dryly. He should have expected nothing less from the avaricious man.

Brighella had been brought in by Arlecchino--the Knave had spoken highly of the man’s intelligence and fighting ability, but so far all Dottore had seen from the Tenth Harbinger was a greed for wealth and alcohol. Dottore thought the man was more deserving of the title Jester than Pierro was, because all he was good for was his unintentional drunken entertainment during events.

Dottore let his gaze drop back to his hands, where the vibrating had finally stopped--seemingly pleased with finally getting a response from him--and Dottore couldn’t push away the emotions clawing at him from every angle.

He hated it.

He was good at compartmentalizing all of his feelings, pushing away all of the unwelcome ones and storing them in little corners until they finally dissipated but he couldn’t this time. They were too intense and Dottore felt overwhelmed. It had barely been half a day and he was already rattled by the new circumstances--rattled enough that he was struggling to keep himself composed internally.

Anxiety and dread were paramount, yes, but there was also pity.

The people of his old village had convinced him that he was cursed but he knew now that he was not the cursed one--it was the one that shared a mark with him instead.

Delta had arrived. Dottore could feel him approaching the palace, battling his way through the blizzard. He was not alone, he could feel another presence at his side--another segment--and he had a feeling he knew exactly which one it was and he was not pleased.

His movements were sharp as he put away the materials that he was using, annoyed at Delta and his inability to say no to the younger segments. For as stubborn and prideful the older segment was, all it took was a few whines from the Iota or Kappa segment and he was rolling over doing whatever they asked.

Dottore did not know how having a soulmate would affect the segments. He just knew it would be a distraction that they could not afford.

Would they have a mark? Dottore didn’t even know if he had a mark. He had yet to step in front of a mirror and look--it would make it too real, as if the damning thread wasn’t real enough.

Would they be able to see the thread? Would they have their own? Dottore hoped not. He did not want them to know--not yet, at least.

Dottore exhaled, safely storing the final vial in a cabinet too high for the Iota segment to reach and knock down just as the door to his lab was flung open harshly, shaking the cabinets closest to the door. He raised his eyebrows, turning on his heel to face the two arrivals.

Both segments were bundled in layers, cloaks drenched with water and furred hoods littered with snowflakes. The Delta segment was frowning, eyeing the room suspiciously, and the Iota segment was bouncing at his side, head whipping back and forth as he looked around the room--his first time in Dottore’s personal lab.

Something that Dottore had tried to keep on purpose. The last segment he wanted in his lab was the Iota segment--he was the clumsiest segment, one of the two segments with absolutely no sense of self-control, letting his curiosity get the best of him even in the worst situations. He was created in the mindset of his ten year old self, right after he had been cast out from his village. Dottore had thought that he could use Iota to see the Aranara of Vanarana but evidently, Iota no longer had that childlike innocence that allowed children to see the Aranara… which Dottore should have expected considering the circumstances after which he was created.

“You’re late,” Dottore said dryly, wiping his hands with a towel as he stepped out from behind the lab table he was working at.

“Yes,” Delta responded, voice just as dry. “There’s a bit of a blizzard outside, if you didn’t notice.”

Dottore raised his eyebrows at the snark and Delta, the most quarrelsome of the segments--except maybe Theta--only raised his eyebrows right back. Dottore’s eyes narrowed, annoyance worming its way onto his expression at the blatant disrespect. He had half a mind to remind him what exactly happened to the last segment that pushed him too far but instead, he was forced to move forward, right hand curling around Iota’s wrist just as the boy reached for some of Dottore’s notes.

“Do not start,” Dottore said sharply--perhaps he should have watched his tone, Iota was always the most sensitive when it came to tone and the last thing he wanted to deal with was a hysterical child.

… but Iota didn’t react to his tone. Instead, his eyes were wide and wondrous as he stared at Dottore’s hand. His right hand. Specifically, his right thumb.

Dottore’s stomach dropped, he released Iota’s wrist in an instant, stepping away, but Iota was persistent, darting forward to grab Dottore’s wrist now, reaching to grab the red string but his hand went right through it.

“What is that?” Delta asked, voice quiet and sharp.

So they could see his thread, but Dottore could safely assume that they did not have their own.

“Is it real?” Iota was still trying to grab the string--undoubtedly to tug at it just to feel the responding tug from their soulmate, just as he had felt from the opposite end this morning.

“It is real,” Dottore wasn’t even sure if he believed the words himself but logically, he had no reason to think otherwise. “It appeared last night.”

The reaction was almost instantaneous--Delta’s eyes shot open and Iota was wailing, clutching at Dottore’s waist, letting out incoherent babbles of how he knew that they had a soulmate, and how he knew that they weren’t damned or soulless, and how Kappa and Gamma would be-

“Do not tell them,” Dottore said sharply and Iota sobered up immediately, bottom lip wobbly and red eyes teary as he peered up at Dottore, questioning. “This is to stay between us for now, do you understand?”

“But Kappa-” Iota sniffled, confused, “and the others, they’ll be-”

“Do you understand?” Dottore asked again, gaze heavy as he waited for a response from both of his segments. “We do not need any new distractions, we’re finally making progress on our projects.”

Iota looked as if he had been physically slapped, brows knit together and biting his bottom lip as he looked between Delta and Dottore, as if expecting Delta to argue with Dottore. Dottore kept his expression steady, challenging, waiting for Delta to say something. Delta was argumentative but unlike Theta, he was not stupid. He knew when to pick fights and when to back off.

Delta was searching Dottore’s face for something, and Dottore made sure to keep his face blank. “You really don’t care?” Delta finally asked.

Dottore didn’t respond, partially because even as Delta asked the question, there was another soft tug at the red thread wrapped around his thumb. He forced himself not to look down at it, ignoring it this time. He did not care, and even if he did, he would force himself not to, just like he did a million times before when he forced himself to not care that he didn’t have a soulmate.

It was better for him, and it was better for the child on the opposite end of the string--who would grow up expecting their perfect match and be met with him.

“You were called back to report on the Irminsul project,” Dottore, a master of deflection, changed the subject rather than responding. Delta scoffed. “So, sit down and report. Enough of this nonsense. This is exactly why the other segments will not know.”

The anxiety, and the dread, and the pity was gone. It was replaced by anger.

Dottore was sick and tired of the gods fucking around with him.

Dottore stood in front of the mirror, lips thin and mask removed as he considered searching for the soulmark that was bound to be branded somewhere on his skin. It had been a long, long time since he had last searched his body for one. He had stopped after he had been cast out from the Akademiya--having given up on acceptance of any kind, be it from strangers or finally receiving his soulmate. He didn’t even want to look now but curiosity had always been his fatal flaw.

What did it look like? Where was it placed? His body was artificial, would there even be a soulmark?

Slowly and meticulously, he removed his shirt, scanning his torso and arms for any sign of the mark. He didn’t know what to look for--as far as he was aware, people’s marks could look like anything. The majority of people had some sort of symbol, be it a flower or animal or even some sort of item that’s a shared interest of the duo.

Dottore had no idea what he might share with his soulmate.

Methodologically, he turned over each arm--just as his parents would do when they were frantically searching him for a mark when he was a child.

Nothing.

Dottore stared at himself in the mirror, the scars that littered his body and face were stark in comparison to the rest of the fair skin. He shook his head as he finally turned around, back facing the mirror. He twisted his neck, looking over his shoulder to scan his back, gaze crawling up from his waistband until it reached his shoulders.

Dottore inhaled sharply, red eyes widening just a bit as he caught sight of the mark branded right between his shoulder blades--a small cluster of purple flowers spread out on his skin.

Heliotropes, he recognized and Dottore didn’t know if he should roll his eyes or laugh at the irony. Symbol of eternal devotion… poisonous to humans.

Of course.

Dottore thought that should be enough of a sign to end this before it weakened him even further--nip the issue in the bud before it could become detrimental. He had never actually seen someone cut their thread before but there were old wives’ tales about it and if anyone could figure out how to do it, it would be him.

For his sake, and for whoever was on the opposite end.

… and then there was a little tug at the string--once, then twice, and then a third time.

The moon was high in the sky now. Night had long fallen. He wondered if this was meant to be a goodnight.

Dottore sighed as he stepped away from the mirror, sitting down at the edge of his bed, leaving the goodnight unanswered as he contemplated what he should do. His gaze shifted back to the window as a branch rattled the glass.

Dottore hated the winter. Time and time again, it proved to be the worst months of his life… but a part of him--deep, deep down--wondered if this was all too bad because as he watched the ice creep up the frame of the window, this time with the phantom vibrations of his soulmate flicking at the string, it was with a bit more fondness than there was the night before.

—-

reblogs appreciated!

—-

#dottore x reader #dottore smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #dottore x you #genshin x you #genshin impact x you

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catsconflictscopicsandchamomile · 1 year ago

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wait. i told u abt Beowulf right

like Dean is Grendel's Mother

Sam is Grendel

and- wait what does YOUR fix-it fic have going on? bc mine has Sam & Dean eventually (in a few hundred/thousand yrs once everything is already well fixed) becoming pagan forest deities, and Dean is a mother goddess (is a goddess but is a dude. he/him male goddess. idk its Dean he's just built that way. Divine Malewife)

@honeyedwhiskey found a whooooole new level of Dean Brainrot wanna talk abt it

the primordial/ultra-powerful being that Dean parallels best isnt Michael OR Lucifer OR Chuck OR Amara

its Eve.

#spn pantheon is like: forest deities + jack o' the lantern + HOO BOI Cas is a whole other subject + misc seasonal guys + the car is a fae #supernatural #or as i call it #“The Usual Harvest & Midwinter Bastards forcefully de-christianize themselves”#Grendel + Mother literally just went “yeah we're not from Christian lore anymore we're pagan again sorry bye”#and then someone drove a length of cold iron through Mother bc he's a pagan forest deity and that is a really effective way to kill those.#“oh you want to be a protector of the wild places again? ok iron nails can kill you now."#btw im imagining this as 16-18 being Demon!Winchesters and actually fixing the finale #and if it keeps going AFTER that then they can do God Stuff #but mannn #they rly said “fuck it” and killed Dean with the oldest known symbol of mankind's dominance over nature & magic huh

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duckduckgoose-exe · 10 months ago

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BSD ROLEPLAY BLOGS MASTERLIST

PLEASE SEND ME AN ASK WITH YOUR CHARACTER I SWEAR TO GOD. I’m trying my best to keep up with this, but if you’re an asshole/not nice when roleplaying/force plots on other roleplayers/etc? Not being added. And if you have a problem with one of the roleplayers on this list, tell me.

(I know I’m missing some im sorry ueueuue)

THSI JS EXTREMELY OUTDATED.

EDIT: hey hey it’s not letting me tag any more people lmao

15!Dazai: @disqualifiedasahuman

15!Chuuya: @doglover556

Ranpo: @ramuneranpo

Poe: @ranpos-rival

Nikolai: @nikolai-gogol-real

Agatha Christie: @agathachristiebsd

Yooko Ota (OC): @yookoota

Kunikida: @notamathmatician

Atsushi: @chazukelover5105

Sigma: @sky-casin0

Fyodor: @fyodorsdostoevsky

Akutagawa: @rashoumonaku

Tecchou: @loveants

PM!Chuuya: @chuuya-nakaharapm

Kyoka: @bunnykyoka

Poe and Karl: @ask-poeandkarl

Yosano: @thou-shaltnot-die

Chiyu Nakahara (OC): @nakachi101

Dazai: @crabbydazai

Kaiji: @creatoroflemons

Kouyou: @golden-demon-pm

Nyx Fleance (oc): @nyx-fleance

Odasaku: @fl4wless23

Ango: @themafiasinformant

Nathanial: @thepastorsblood

Kunikida: @manofhisideals

Jouno: @thesepricelesstears

Sakoto Dazai (OC): @crabisnasty1234

Kyoka: @crepes-is-life

Victor Hugo (OC): @the-wretched-informant

Teruko: @teru-ru-ru-ko

Shibusawa: @eternalboredom

Tanizaki Siblings: @tanizakisiblings

Gin: @thesecondakutagawa

Giacomo Leopardi (oc?): @normal-italian-tourist

Collette Èpine (oc): @collettescorner

Ritsu Satō (oc): @angels-trump3t

Kalma (oc): @rewriting-fate

Bram Stoker: @vampirebram

Beast!Dazai: @yearningfortheend

The Scythe (oc): @thescythe-pm

Beast!Chuuya: @snowydusk

Oni!Chuuya: @onichuuya-yokai

Kitsune!Dazai: @kitsune-dazai

Aya: @worldsbiggesthero

Tachihara: @midwinter-momento

16!Chuuya(?)): @chuuyanakaharalovesdogs

Q: @dogramagra-and-destruction

Elinor Wylie (oc): @elinors-fishing-bureau

Fem!Chuuya: @dazais-biggest-hater

Fem!Dazai: @osamudazaiisawoman

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ariseur · 8 months ago

Note

could i request a slight suggestive makeout session with Nero?

you suppressed the urge to tug at your collar, desperate for even just a puff of air as nero’s body heat travelled between the two of you while he caged you in on the couch. it definitely didn’t help that demons particularly run hot, even if nero was only had quarter of demon coursing through his blood.

your hands found their way to his hair, tangling themselves in short rough strands painted like snowfall as a groan hitched in the back of his throat at the feeling. you felt his sharp exhales on your skin as his hand came to grasp at your waist, desperately pawing at the fabric of your thin shirt and scrunching the material in his hands.

his lips moved on yours in a sloppy rhythm albeit you didn’t mind, for what he lacked in experience he made up for in enthusiasm. nero’s lips chased yours at any given moment, reveling in the feeling of your hand on the back of his neck to pull him in closer while your legs wrapped around his lower back. your heels pressed down as your hips dangerously bucked up into his, causing him to let out a small groan. the only reason the sound came out was because of the small gap that was left between the corners of your lips due to the utter sloppiness of his assault on your lips, otherwise nero‘s moan would be muted in the periodic strings of noises of both of your lips connecting, barely taking breaks for air.

you pressed the back of your head against the cushion of the couch, experimentally rolling your hips once as you pulled away. hearing nero’s sweet sighs was music to your ears, and you definitely noticed the way his lips tried to chase yours, painted and bruised with a cherry red and coated with saliva.

a small whine emitted from his lips as he opened his eyes, painted a similar color to the midwinter sky. and in that moment, you almost whimpered yourself at the proximity of how close you were to him. his scent engulfed you, a familiar smell of a rich musk that always made you perk up when you smelled something similar in public, your mind instantly reeling back to your lover.

your noses practically brushed together as your breaths mingled, although they were more like quickened pants rather than breaths.

and then, you both smiled. you admired the way nero’s eyebrows furrowed and the outer corners of his eyes crinkled while he grinned at you, obviously satisfied as his eyes raked across from lips to your collarbone, looking over his fine work of love bites and kisses. somehow he looked so ethereal above you, even in such an intimate position with a hard on against your thigh, he still possessed that boyish charm.

“you gonna keep kissing me or what?” was all you needed before you gripped his hair again and slammed your lips back onto his. you two didn’t need anymore words as you felt his lips curl into a smile against yours. you struggled to fight the urge to open and roll your eyes at his antics. boy, did he annoy you sometimes, but boy, did you love it.

#devil may cry #devil may cry x reader #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #x reader #nero dmc x reader #dmc nero x reader #nero sparda x reader #nero sparda #dmc5 nero #dmc4 nero #devil may cry nero #dmc nero #devil may cry blurb #nero sparda blurb #ODOTTIE *･῾ ᵎ⌇ ⁺◦ 💘 ✧.*#kiss kiss

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weaveandwood · 7 months ago

Note

Writing prompt - You and Gale are baking a cake - What happens?

Oh no cake batter found its way onto his dick

LMAO. I'm going to write this as Auroria and Gale , post Midwinter In Waterdeep when they're back together. Hiding under the cut because this got WAY more explicit than I thought it would. You're welcome! Thanks for the fun prompt!

NSFW 18+ Word Count: 1331 Warnings: Vaginal Sex

She returned to the cabin two days ago as promised, in advance of Morena's birthday party. Gale said they would typically order a cake from the baker, but Auroria suggested baking one together as a gift for her. Auroria and Gale had been married about a year, but she always felt a tug to try to impress Morena both in penance for the emotional turmoil she put her son through for seven years after their adventure ended and the desire for a mother figure in her life after not having that guiding figure for the last 27 years. Morena had said all was forgiven seeing how happy Gale was, but Auroria couldn't shake the feeling that she should always try harder.

She walked into their small kitchen from the cozy bedroom, seeing Gale already hard at work preparing the ingredients - eggs, sugar, flour, chocolate, butter. She walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her chin on his shoulder.

"We're supposed to bake this together, dear husband."

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. "You know, I never tire of being called that.”

“Good, because I will never tire of calling you that,” she smiled and stood beside him, looking at the neat countertop, everything in its place. “Let’s do this the old fashioned way, no magic.”

“Not even a little?” He looked flabbergasted.

She shook her head. “No, it’ll mean more if it’s completely handmade. Besides, where is the fun if you don’t get a little messy every now and then?”

“Alright, alright, I surrender. You win again.” He laughed and kissed her softly, the spoon that was magically keeping the chocolate stirred, warm, and melted now laying still in the bowl.

The pair got to work, Gale naturally taking the lead and instructing Auroria, who did most of the labor - mixing up the butter and sugar, adding the eggs, the chocolate, and finally the flour. Gale poured the batter into the cake tins and set them into their small oven. She stood with her hands on her hips, proud of the work they did and how well they worked together, even on this small project. Her previous demons were becoming smaller and smaller each time she came home. She loved what she and Gale had become.

“Not bad, we make a good team.”

“That we do, we hardly even made a mess..." He trailed off, surveying his beautiful wife, who had somehow gotten cake batter on both of her cheeks and the small sliver of skin showing at her chest in the opening of her top. He walked up to her, leaning in and used a finger to wipe the batter off her cheek. “I take that back,” he said, “you are covered in chocolate, Ora.” He laughed as he licked the batter off his finger.

She shrugged. “Baking is messy, does the batter taste good at least?”

He leaned in closer, kissing her other cheek, licking off the batter. “Delicious.” He kissed down her neck, hitting that one spot that she liked before kissing down to the opening in her neckline, licking the batter off her chest.

Auroria gasped, her hands moving into his hair, scratching gently at his scalp as he worked his way back up the other side of her neck to her earlobe. She tilted her head as he whispered, “I should see if you have batter anywhere else, my love.” She felt him tugging up the hem of her shirt, and she gladly lifted her arms up to help him. His hands immediately went to her breasts, kneading them gently, feeling her nipples getting hard under his deft touch. He unlaced her pants, pushing them off her hips to the floor, leaving her naked. She left out a soft moan as he touched her, which only made him want her more. “I need you, Ora. Now.”

“Hmm, first I think I need to make sure you didn’t get any chocolate on you, don’t you think?” She smiled, tugging at his shirt, knowing he didn’t have anything on him, but wanting to tease him just the same. She had never seen him take off his clothes more quickly - well, except maybe that first night in the Shadow Cursed Lands or the first Midwinter they reunited. She looked at him, his body softer with age and comfort though still athletic and absolutely, devastatingly perfect. The orb was now a faint scarring of lighter skin, mostly hidden by his chest hair. As her eyes traveled over his body, she saw exactly how much he desired her.

“Sadly, I’m afraid you are perfectly clean, my love,” she said before closing the distance between them, kissing him deeply, reaching down to wrap her hands around him, already hard, and felt him groan into her mouth as she started to stroke him. He guided her back to the countertop as they kissed, then she felt his hands on her waist, lifting her up onto the countertop, still covered in flour.

He broke the kiss and rested his forehead against hers as his hand slid its way down her hips between her legs, rubbing her, feeling her wet for him already. “Gods how did I get so lucky? Look at you, it’s all I can do not to be inside you all day. I want you, please let me have you,” he practically panted, a finger sliding inside her. She loved his fingers for many reasons, but the way they knew exactly how to play her made her wonder if Gale was a musician in a past life. She arched her back, moaning softly.

“Then have me, Gale. Have me.”

Gale wasted no time. His hands went to her hips, pulling her forward on the countertop so she was at the very edge before wrapping a hand around his hard cock, lining it up at her entrance before pushing it in slowly. He would never tire of this - feeling the way she gave around him, taking him in. A perfect fit. As he entered her fully, all thoughts left him, as they usually did. He lightly bit down on her shoulder as he held her legs apart, thrusting slowly at first, then picking up speed. The sound of their bodies hitting together and their soft pants and grunts the only noise in the small cabin.

“I will admit I don’t think I will last long, my dear. You feel too good this morning,” he panted, fucking her harder, feeling the familiar tension in his abdomen as he got closer to release. He could feel her tightening around him, knowing she was close as well. Knowing he could bring her to her own precipice this quickly helped spur him on. He reached between them, his fingers circling her clit, rubbing that precious bundle of nerves he loved to pay special attention to.

She cried out as he rubbed her, holding onto his arms tightly. “Make me come with you,” she panted

He fucked her hard, each stroke punctuated as he almost pulled out of her before slamming back in, keeping a good pace. He knew she liked it when he was steady. He felt her tightening up, her body going still. She was almost there. He leaned in. “Come for me Ora, I want to feel you around me, then I want to come deep inside you.”

His filthy words, his warm breath on her ear sent her over the edge. She gripped on to him, crying out loudly as her body tightened up and let go, orgasm rocking through her, feeling him fuck her through it.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his strokes picking up speed as she came, his groans getting louder as he got closer and closer before he found his own release, crashing into her, spilling his seed deep inside her. He finally slowed down, a satisfied exhaustion creeping into his bones as he laid his head on her shoulder, laughing as he looked at her - she was covered in flour handprints, and he assumed he was as well.

“We should bake together more often,” she teased before he kissed her again.

#my writing #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 #baldur’s gate 3 #gale x tav #gale x auroria #woodweave #whew my first published smut!

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the-mortuary-witch · 8 months ago

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PAGAN AND SATANIC HOLIDAYS AND CELEBRATIONS

PAGAN:

IMBOLC (CANDLEMAS): (February 1st-2nd) a festival dedicated to the goddess of the New Year (Brigid).

OSTARA (SPRING EQUINOX): (March 19th-23rd) marks the Spring Equinox, which happens on March 19th-23rd. Ostara is a Pagan celebration of the German goddess Ēostre.

BELTANE (MAY EVE): (April 30th-May 1st) the Gaelic May Day festival, marking the beginning of summer. It is traditionally held between April 30th-May 1st, or about midway between the Spring Equinox and Summer Solstice.

LITHA (SUMMER SOLSTICE/MIDSUMMER): (June 20th) Litha occurs during the Summer Solstice held on June 20th-21st. More commonly referred to as Midsummer's Night, Litha is believed to be a time when faerie folk pass into the human world at Twilight and offer blessings. Litha is a time to celebrate the abundance and beauty of Mother Earth.

LAMMAS (LUGHNASADH): (August 1st) a Pagan holiday and one of the eight Wiccan sabbats during the year. Each sabbat marks a seasonal turning point. The sabbat occurs on August 1st, which is about halfway between the Summer Solstice (Litha) and the Fall Equinox (Mabon).

MABON (AUTUMN EQUINOX/FALL HARVEST): (September 20th-23rd) represents the height of nature's abundance and usually falls on September 20th-23rd. It is seen as the height of the harvest season and is a time to celebrate nature's bounty. Many also celebrate the balance in nature during Mabon.

SAMHAIN (ALL HALLOWS/FINAL HARVEST): (October 31st-November 1st) a festival dedicated to the dead and a celebration of the New Year.

YULE (WINTER SOLSTICE/MIDWINTER): (December 21st-25th) a Winter Solstice festival. The longest night of the year followed by the sun's "rebirth" and lengthening of days. In most traditions, Yule is celebrated as the rebirth of the Great God, who is viewed as the newborn solstice sun. Some Pagans consider Yule to be the beginning of the New Year

SATANIC:

LUPERCALIA: (February 15th) celebration of bodily autonomy, sexual liberation, and reproduction. Based on the Roman festival of the same name, Lupercalia falls on February 15. In keeping with the ancient tradition, February 13th and 14th are observed as feast days leading up to the actual holiday. What we are translating this to in TST is a "hail yourself" day. This idea offers a parallel to the "others-centered" traditions of Sol Invictus.

HEXENNACHT: (April 30th) occasion honoring those who fell victim to superstition and pseudoscience, whether by. In Johann Wolfgang von Goethe's Faust: a Tragedy (1808), Mephisto and Faust attend the Walpurgisnacht revelry atop Mount Brocken. TST's Hexenacht is a solemn holiday to honor those who were victimized by superstition.

UNVEILING DAY: (July 25th) celebration of religious plurality and shedding archaic superstition. A centerpiece of our religious movement and icon of modern Satanism, the Baphomet with Children statue was commissioned by The Satanic Temple in 2014 and created by Mark Porter with "respect for diversity and religious minorities" in mind. On July 25, 2015, The Satanic Temple unveiled Baphomet to a large crowd of devotees in Detroit, signaling the beginning of the new Satanic era. We observe this milestone in Satanic history by celebrating Unveiling Day.

DEVILS NIGHT (MISCHIEF NIGHT): (October 30th-November 4th) an informal holiday on which children, teenagers and adults engage in jokes, pranks, vandalism, or parties. It is known by a variety of names including Devils Night, Gate Night, Goosey Night, Moving Night, Cabbage Night, Mystery Night and Mat Night.

HALLOWEEN: (October 31st) holiday to celebrate indulgence and embrace the darkness and its aesthetic. Halloween is consistently described as evil, demonic, and satanic by those steeped in religious dogma. Costumes, candy, and facing fears are to be embraced.

SOL INVICTUS: (December 25th) a holiday to celebrate indulgence and embracing the darkness and its aesthetic. The cult of Sol existed within Rome since its early days as a republic, and Invictus was an epithet used for Jupiter, Mars, and Apollo (among others). The festival celebrated these Gods and may have also been used to celebrate the winter solstice.

#fyp #fypシ #fypシ゚viral #fypage #fyppage #tumblr fyp #satanism #satanist #satanic #paganism #pagan #holidays #celebration #information

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zonzolik · 10 months ago

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Fluffy Good Omens fanfiction masterlist

huge thanks to @heller04, @turquoisedata and @smoxensweetpea from Garden of Eden server for this list of super fluffy angst-free ineffable fanfics🥳

legend: one shot, shorter fic, longer fic, series, a f*cking saga

Temporary Tattoo by cyankelpie - Crowley's snake tattoo wandering around, a lot of people love this one

Anthony J. Crowley, Retired Demon and Airbnb Superhost by TheOldAquarian - the title says it all and it's freaking hillarious

Put Out The Fire by Aleakim - a spell makes everyone fall in love with Aziraphale the moment they see him, except for Crowley, 'cause... you know

I Slithered Here From Eden by Cryptand_Bismol - "yeah, you probably should have kissed him sooner"

air conditioned, love unconditional by fractalgeometry - Aziraphale is a ceiling fan and Crowley is an air conditioner

where the lights burn low and you're only mine by hopelessromantic549 - they move into a cottage and Aziraphale is trying to be rational

Texts from an Unknown Number by GaryOldman - first of the Wrong Number AU series, human AU, Azi's text does not end up where he wanted it to

Family by Association by otherhawk - Warlock finding his nanny

snake time by RosePetalsAndRain - snake Crowley getting cozy in the bookshop

Getting a Wiggle On by Kedreeva - Crowley leaves Azi fake eggs to babysit...

is it that we are dying? by NeverNooitNiet - Aziraphale has to help a dying demon escape from a church in England, 1349 EDIT: put here by mistake, it's sad but with a happy ending!

Press My Petals To Your Heart by ranguvar82 - miscommunication queens talk with flowers

I want it to be an "us" by Mimisempai - first of the Ineffable Growing Love series, S2 fix-it

Fifty Ways to Kiss Your Partner by ICarryDeathOnMyWings - literally fifty types of kisses, how adorable is that, "Fluffy as heck, y'all."

Tangled Up by No1fan15 - just fluff I guess

The Duality of Grief and Forgiveness by SealandRocks - the others arrange a dinner so the ineffable idiots can finally talk

right in front of me by raphvfx - Azi and Crowley finding out about the Good Omens book

Scare me goodnight, my love by The_Rogue_Bard - Crowley being Aziraphale's sleep paralysis demon

The Coffee by Ghostofafruit - Crowley does not like Metatron's coffee

How to Woo a Demon by Bookwormgal - after Armegeddidn't Azi wants to admit his feelings but he just can't do it the normal way, can he

Starting A Trend by somethingscarlet13 - they wanna get married

In the bleak midwinter by HolRose - human AU, a rather confused middle aged bookseller bumps into a handsome red-haired man in black

Miracle me a house by IneffableDemon - After the Amrmageddidn't, the Almighty wants them to play house

Clear As Day by HopeCoppice - Crowley actually knowing Azi's filing system (not a good thing)

Let It Snow by inffablenerd - stuck in the bookshop because of a snowstorm

This Strange Sweetness by KannaOphelia - they admit they're a couple, also there's a pear

Find Out How Much Love The World Can Hold by ineffablefool - Azi starts saying "I love you" at the end of phone calls

The Whole Truth by Aethelflaed - a cursed tome in the bookshop

Forget-me-not by gothikmaus - Five times they erased each other's memory after accidentally confessing their love, plus one time they didn't.

Putting the Endearment in Dear by JoyAndOtherStories - Azi calling everyone my dear, including Crowley

Unrequited by Arielavader - Crowley being a jealous bitch

Happily Ever After by IneffableToreshi - snake Crowley can't change back + ineffable stupidity

Fortune Cookies by PlantsJustWannaHaveFun - Anathema's Armageddidn't afterparty with a bit of future telling

Please tag the authors so they know their work is appreciated❤️

Note: I have not yet read them all but I will be making an AO3 collection as I'll be going through the list

#can i hear a wahoo #fluff #fluffy fanfic #fluffy fluff #fanfic #fanfiction #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #ineffable idiots #ineffable husbands #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 fanfiction #archive of our own

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miss-starlet · 7 months ago

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♤ Bury Your Head Prologue ♤

Prince of Darkness! Yang Jeongin × Princess! Younger Sister of Chan! Y/N

Release Date: Early June

Word Count: 700+

Warning: Devil! I.N, light mention of blood, and talks of killing the uncle

The biting cold of midwinter's wind cut through Chan mercilessly, sending shivers down his spine as he quickly walked to the chapel.

The chapel was nestled in the back of the garden that was located on the side of the royal palace. It was once filled with lavish detail and decor, but under his uncle's reign as king, he sold what could make him more money, and made sure the rest went to ruin. The ornate details on the door were weathered, the stained glass windows shattered and broken, and long vines of ivy crept unchecked along its outer brick. Chan was well aware that if his uncle's reign over the kingdom continued, it would be the end of their kingdom and people, just like this old chapel. He was willing to do anything that was necessary, even the most drastic measures for his uncle's end.

Swinging open the heavy wooden doors, he gets to work. He sits the book he brought with him down on the pew and lights every candle located still in the building. Chan then cracked open the ancient book that contained how to contact spirits and demons. As if the book knew, it flipped open to the precise page he sought. Kneeling on the dusty wooden floor, he etched the symbols shown in chalk before meticulously laying down a protective salt line. Afterwards, he studied the arcane words, reading and whispering them under his breath again and again to ensure their accuracy. Before he loudly echoed the words on the page.

He shivered from the cold air that drifted in the chapel. Yet the cold wasn't enough to distract him from the loud pounding of his heart. It should have worked by now, why hasn't he appeared? Chan threw the book on the floor devastated, he failed his people. Then suddenly the candle's flames went out with a fleeting gust of wind leaving Chan in darkness for a few seconds before reigniting. The sound of hushed whispers he can barely make out before it's back to quiet. Then the chapels doors swung open with a forceful push, revealing the entrance of a striking man dressed in black silk.

The man started taking slow deliberate steps towards Chan. The sound of his shoes echoed around the chapel. The soft colored light from the moon and candles creates a radiant glow upon him, one akin to an angel bathed in celestial light. Each movement of the satin fabric he wore seemed to amplify the ethereal effect. Pausing just before the salt line, he fixed his gaze on Chan and introduced himself, “ I am the prince of darkness, the devil, yet 'Jeongin' will suffice for now.” After the introduction, he steps over the salt line, still heading towards Chan. Chan flinged back and commanded the being, “Stop.” Jeongin stopped for a moment, smirking.

“I am Bang Chan, the prince of Lavender. I seek my uncle's demise, grant me the throne and the title of eternal king," he proclaimed. Jeongin's pauses momentarily, as if he didn't expect that request. "While I cannot claim your soul, I shall instead claim something that holds even greater value than your kingdom and its inhabitants."

Chan didn’t know what to think about this, he was unsure of what could be more important and grand than the state of the people who lived in the kingdom. He cared for his siblings, yes, but they are not more profound than the fate of his people.

Without delay, Jeongin unsheathed his sword attached to his belt, causing Chan to take another step back nervously. He watches the demon slice his palm open before roughly grabbing Chan's hand. Pulling him closer before flipping his hand back to see his palm before repeating the action, before clasping their hands together. They shaked each other's hands, their blood mixed together, sealing the deal.

"Your uncle will be dead by morning, and as for my offering…” Jeongin withdrew his hand, fixing Chan with a chilling smirk. “I will take it when you least expect it." He declared, his tone ominous, leaving Chan wondering if he did the wrong thing. Jeongin turned, and walked out the wooden doors. The candles blew out once more, leaving Chan back in darkness.

#stray kids x reader #yang jeongin x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #stray kids au #i.n x reader

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bsdrandomness · 11 months ago

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#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd anime #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #bsd chuuya #chuuya nakahara #bungou stray dogs chuuya #bsd s5 #soukoku

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mishlady · 21 days ago

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YeeHan Week 2024

Day 4: Halloween

~~~

Echoes Through Time

The demon had been alive for a very long time. It had been long enough that he no longer counted decades of life, but centuries. So it was that he was in his thirtieth century of counting, not paying attention to the years before that. It had been that long since he had last truly felt connected with the world, felt like time was worth counting…..or himself even worth the effort to remember his name. Since he had lost his heart mate, the one whose heart beat with his across space and time.

They had both been travelers specializing in the arcane when they had met, somewhere in the wilds of Tibet. He had saved the man from suspicious locals, who thought that the bronze skinned foreigner was some form of bad omen. They didn’t realize he was there to help stop the entity causing the issue. He still remembered when their eyes first met; they both had felt the tug around their hearts and deep within their souls the pull of the string of fate.

They had quickly become friends and partners after that in the weeks that they worked in Tibet and the plains of Mongolia. The love came after, on the swift breeze of the sea on the boat back to Nihon. His love, tall and sun kissed, looked ethereally real, here and not, his shoulder length hair whipping in the breeze. His own hair was up in its usual topknot, wisps of hair falling from it. Time had held no meaning then as well, buoyed by their love and companionship.

They had helped the young and defenseless, creating a sense of peace around their home. The demon with his martial arts, and his love with his crossbow and knives. He had often allowed his eyes to rove up and down his love’s body, clad in dark leathers and linen shirts. His love had returned the looks, a crooked sweet smile on his face.

It had been midwinter when his love, his mate, had been ripped from him. They had of course gotten on the wrong side of people, even if they had been helping those people in the process. That, plus some wild idea that they were both men in love and that was some sort of hellish evil, had their enemies striking. He had become concerned when his mate had not come back from his midafternoon walk through the snowy woods. It had taken him until the early hours of the next morning to find him, laying up against a tree and surrounded by blood, bodies, and scuffed snow.

His love was barely clinging to life; enough to open his eyes around the thick red and golden cloak still wrapped around his stabbed abdomen and chest. His hands shook as he stroked through his lover’s hair and along his jawline. His mate smiled at him, lips already blue from the cold and loss of blood.

“I’m glad that I got to see you one last time on this side of the veil, sweetness,” he had said in a whisper. “I think one of them got off one last little spell, one of amnesia and/or separation. I’ll be coming back to find you, my love, but it may be many lifetimes before I remember you. Please hold on for me as I find my way back to you, H—o love.” Even in his dearest memories, said by his heartmate, the demon did not feel worthy enough of his own name to be able to even think of his own name.

He should have been able to save him, should have been able to do something - but no. All he could do, all he had done, was hunt down and punish those who had done the deed. In the process, though…..he glanced down at his gray, claw tipped hands. The revenge had been worth the living damnation, a curse laid upon him by the last enemy. The demon learned to shape shift and hide his now true form, living amongst humans for the years that followed. As time had gone by, the demon had indeed found his heartmate. Not in every single reincarnation - no, just enough to know that his mate was coming back - but the curse had rung true. His heartmate did not remember him, did not recognize him.

The string of fate remained tied to the demon only, loose and fluttering.

~~~~~~

The demon decided, in the middle of his thirtieth century of counting, to finally visit the home soil of his mate. The world had updated so much from centuries before, and so he was able to fly through the air without using any of his magical powers to get to America. As the flight landed and he got his bags, the demon reflected upon the last time he had seen his love. It had been forty years previously, as an older man who lived in the mountains. There had been more of a glimmer of recognition then.

The heat was something that the demon had been mentally prepared for, if not physically. The streets of Santa Fe were an explosion of heat and geometric colors, with an underlying aura that brought tears to his eyes. It reminded him of his love so much that it brought an ache to the hole in his chest where that love used to be. Then…..came a familiar tug. A tug that he hadn’t felt since a cold winter’s morning in an era before one who would be called Christ would preach.

He followed it, needing to walk around some buildings instead of going straight through them. When he used his Sight, he could see the red string of fate pulled taut, leading away into the distance. It led him into a neighborhood full of houses, and when he saw the decorations he realized - it was Samhain. The decorations were of the more modern, non religious Halloween variety, and as the sun set people came out in droves in costume. The demon then felt that he could let loose the glamour, and blend in. He got a lot of compliments on the cool costume as he walked along to finally stop in front of a red adobe house with an ivory slate roof.

The door opened for the inhabitant to give out candy, and the demon felt his heart squeeze for the first time in those centuries he had been alive. It was his love, his mate - still with the shaggy hair, still with half a left arm missing. He waited until there were no more children and night had fallen before he walked over to knock on the door. It opened with the man saying something good natured about “kids being late,” yet he could not hear it through the rushing in his ears. Their eyes met, and the man’s widened as he realized that what he was seeing was NOT a costume. A familiar red glint rose and faded in his left eye.

“Is….is that you, sweetness? Please tell me it’s you.” The man’s voice was again a whisper, ragged and full of emotion. The demon nodded, pressing a shaking hand to his mouth.

“It is me, my love,” he replied, voice deeper and with more of an echo to it. His mate ushered him inside, taking his bag and putting it somewhere. The demon looked around, finding the same style of cloak he always remembered his mate wearing all those years ago. Then he saw the little nook, set up as a miniature shrine from Nihon. A sakura bonsai sat next to a set of twin dragons made of jade, with a bowl of sand with three sticks of jasmine incense in the sand and standing straight up. They were burning in front of a memorial plaque, made of acacia wood and having kanji burned into it.

With a start, the demon recognized his own name staring back at him, and knew it to be made with love and intention. He heard the other walk up to him, and turned to face him. They stood there, both feeling so awkward after so long apart.

“What happened, Hanzo? How did this…” his voice trailed off as Hanzo flinched at hearing his name. Hanzo then found his face being cupped by a warm callous hand and a cool metal one. His face was lifted up, and through the tears he saw the same love and devotion pouring out of him as Hanzo remembered.

“I had to avenge you, my love,” Hanzo said. “The way I went about it had the gods deeming it fit to sentence me to a living purgatory as a demon. I….I have been alive since you died that first time.” Hanzo was pulled into a warm, long hug. Both of them cried, allowing for a catharsis of all the pent up longing and pain. They went slowly, catching up and becoming familiar with each other once again. Including a name change.

“While I like the name Jesse, I’ve decided to go by Cole,” Cole said. “I’ve got just as many bad memories with that name as good, and I wished to set it aside.” Hanzo nodded, understanding yet knowing he would remain as Hanzo until he fully reached the end of his reincarnation and took steps into Nirvana. The days passed after that, along with learning how to live together again. Times had changed, as had viewpoints on the same sex loving each other. They came out to their neighbors; hung a rainbow flag outside of their house; and even made friends with a sapphic couple next door.

It took another fifty years and moving back to their original home in Nihon for Hanzo to wake up one morning and notice something different in the cool morning breeze. It wasn’t the flowery scent, or the warmth of Cole spooning him from behind. No, it was the complete sense of peace deep within, next to his dragons, that alerted him to it. It took staring at his human hand for about thirty seconds before he realized he didn’t have his glamour on. Hanzo cried silent tears of joy at that.

For now, he knew as sure as his own name, that they could now grow old together. The universe and the gods had relented, seeing that they had truly grown and learned from their past. Now, they could die together, as in love then as they were when they first met all those ages ago.

#overwatch #hanzo shimada #cole cassidy #yeehan #mchanzo #yeehan week 2024 #demon skin

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