#and for whatever reason he just latched on and kept it

[anxious-lee]

|| These Moments That I Treasure || Arcane Tickle Fic

A/N: holy cow does this fandom need some fluff right now 😳. this takes place before season two, but other than that, it can pretty much be whenever you want. if for whatever reason, you don't like these kinds of fics and you stumbled onto this, SCROLL AWAY

Summary: During one of their quiet moments in the lab, Viktor learns something about Jayce

Lee: Jayce

Ler: Viktor

---

Sometimes all it takes is one touch. One sweep of skin on skin to dissolve all your worries. The throes of passion are nice too, but even they cannot replace the value of a simple, delicate touch.

Viktor and Jayce knew this truth better than most. In Viktor's condition, delicacy was crucial. Sometimes in between work sessions, they would prop themselves up on the table, and just hold each other. Playing with fingers, rubbing shoulders, combing through hair, it didn't matter. It was what kept each other grounded when the obstacles seemed too insurmountable; when the weight of living was too difficult to bear.

It was in one of these gentle moments, that Jayce let something slip.

Viktor was exploring the skin underneath Jayce's shirt, taking in every crevice and contour, when he felt his partner shift.

Then came a huff. "Be careful down there."

Viktor's concern was immediately piqued. He hadn't realized that there was a boundary there not to cross. If he had, he would have been much more careful. Jayce had told him about the sort of trouble he used to find himself in, and the memories that his body kept record of.

"You have scars here too?" Vik asked.

The fret in his partner's voice was laughable to Jayce. Absolutely laughable. But only because it was severely misplaced.

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm just..." He trailed off, smothering his sheepishness long enough to say, "... a little ticklish there."

A moment of relief. A moment of quiet. A moment of opportunity.

Viktor chuckled. "You shouldn't have told me that."

Before Jayce could process that threat, nimble fingers were dancing over his ribs like they were plucking a harp. It was electrifying. He was so unused to this feeling that he choked on his own laugh.

It was a sound of shock, but more importantly to Viktor, it wasn't a sound of discomfort.

Jayce tried to hold it in like a breath, but some part of him didn't want to. That part of himself just wanted to enjoy how ridiculous this all was and laugh about it. But alas, his pride was stronger, and so was his will to stay quiet.

Viktor wouldn't let him. He moved his hands down the front of his belly and around to the backs of his sides. Jayce's bubbling laughter was his reward.

"It's funny. I never thought to try this. Now you'll have to listen to me when I tell you to go to sleep at a decent hour."

"You're one to talk," came the giggly retort.

The devilish hands trailed higher, drawing higher chortles. Jayce was now folded in half like a mouse trap, flinching but not quite shifting away.

"I see I'm not the only one having fun," Viktor smirked.

"SHUHUT UHUP!"

Viktor couldn't contain a chuckle of his own. "Where else are you ticklish?"

The audacity to expect Jayce to reveal himself like that amused him. That was such a Viktor thing to do.

"I'm nohot telling yohohou that!"

"That's okay. You don't need to," he said simply.

Suddenly Viktor's hands abandoned their post under Jayce's arms, and instead latched themselves onto his thighs.

The shriek was incredible.

Jayce could do nothing but cling to his torturer's shoulders. He was so overcome with hysterical laughter that he couldn't see Viktor's smile, bigger and brighter than it had been all month.

"I love you like this" Viktor said.

"LIHIHIKE WHAT?" Jay wheezed.

"Glowing. Happy. Not thinking," Viktor would have had half a mind to be embarrassed of how sappy he sounded right now, if he wasn't so enamored with his partner's smile.

At the unexpected sincere words, Jayce looked up at Vik for the first time since this whole game began. He got a good look into the eyes of warmth and love that were reserved only for him. How he treasured those eyes.

Viktor hadn't realized he had stopped tickling. He also hadn't realized how close his lips were to Jayce's.

The gap between them closed, and whatever they were working on today was entirely forgotten. Nothing in this dusty laboratory could replace the value of a loving, delicate touch.

---

i really need this after yesterday's episodes 😭

[synthwavecryptid]

Pardon the out of left field thoughts but do you think Dutch had siblings. Like. I know his mother’s grave outside blackwater only denotes him, but bear with me a minute

Was this man an only child with slightly skewed delusions of grandeur (or rampant fantasy, depending on how you look at it) who fucked off into the wild world at 15 with rose colored glasses and the spirit of adventure?

Or was this man a middle child, bookended by brothers and sisters and chafing at the bit to be Known, the teenage desire to be seen as a profound individual in his own right and on his terms, away from the flock. wanting to be the benevolence that feeds the hungry mouths instead of being one of those many?

Did he have his mama’s soulful eyes, his daddy’s proud nose, his grandma’s restless wandering spirit that demanded following the north wind??

I am once again getting too in my feelings about back stories and history

[unearthly-doting]

the wind will guide you home

a/n: idk idk i just really like the anemo characters soso much. kept it pretty vague i think so you can decide if the reader is willing or unwilling. no faruzan or lynette bc i couldn't think of anything for them :(

includes: aether, lumine, venti, jean, xiao, kazuha, sucrose, heizou, and wanderer.

premise: you wandered a little too far away from your partner for their liking. maybe you were trying to escape, maybe not. but don't worry, they'll find you.

warnings: mdni, yandere content, gn reader, implied/referenced kidnapping, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied drugging, stalking, unhealthy relationships, vague mentions of dependency, uh whatever the fuck is happening in wanderer's section.

AETHER — is immediately panicked the moment he realizes you aren't by his side anymore. he never lets you travel with him, it was dangerous and you were safer tucked away in the little area he kept you in, safe from the dangers of this mysterious world. it was his fault, really. he had forgotten to lock the door the last time he visited, having been in such a hurry for one reason or another. you, for some reason, had decided to leave even though he had told you time and time again that it was dangerous. he wouldn't waste any time looking for you, hurrying outside, and using everything he had to his advantage to search for you. if you have a vision, he's definitely using his elemental sight to track you down. and when he does find you, he's immediately latching himself onto you, clinging to you and breathing a sigh of relief. he was completely oblivious to the horrified look on your face, just glad to have you in his arms again. "let's get you home. it's not safe for you out here."

LUMINE — would more than likely notice immediately when you vanish. she keeps you at her side at all times to ensure that she can protect you, so you're rarely ever away from her. the moment she sees that you're gone, she's abandoning whatever it was she was doing to find you. it doesn't matter if it was a commission or some important task that will help her get a better understanding of this world. you were more important than that right now. you needed to be back by her side. her tracking skills were incredibly good, so you wouldn't get far before she had you in her sights again. it doesn't matter if you were trying to escape or if you were just distracted and wandered off, the grip she had on your wrist was tight once she caught up to you, and she refused to let you go until the two of you were back at whatever inn or camp you two were staying at. she'll bind your hands together and tie the end of the rope to her wrist if you try arguing with her. "i can't keep you safe if you refuse to stay by my side."

VENTI — is honestly the only one here that will find you like almost immediately. even if he isn't paying attention to you and instead wowing a crowd with his amazing bard skills, the wind will tell him the moment you're gone. he'll stop midstory at the news, politely excusing himself and promising to be back later with an even better story. he'll let the wind guide him, listening to the whispers as he hurries down the streets of mondstadt, picking up pace when the wind tells him you were heading for the main gate of the city. if he uses his powers as the anemo archon to cause a harsh gust of wind to knock everyone away from the gates of the city just so he can catch up with you, then... well... it's not like anyone will know it was him. other than you, of course. and the moment you recovered from hitting the ground, venti was at your side and helping you up. he let you keep your freedom, most of it at least, but he didn't want you to leave the city if he wasn't at your side. he doesn't let go of your hand as he drags you back, an upbeat smile on his face as he playfully spoke, "you're missing my performance! you know i can't perform without my biggest fan watching me." you miss the tightly concealed desperation in his eyes as he stared at you. you can't leave him. he won't let you.

JEAN — is so busy with work that she rarely has the time to keep track of every little move you make. honestly, she probably won't realize you're gone until kaeya or amber drop by and tell her that they saw you wandering outside the city, seemingly heading in the direction of liyue. she's immediately abandoning whatever paperwork she had been looking through, hurrying out of her office and rushing past the citizens in the city to get to you. her mind was running wild trying to figure out why you would even think about leaving the city, let alone leaving without telling her. she's almost out of breath by the time she finds you, the sun starting to set as she crashes into you in a tight hug while rapid-fire questioning you on why you were leaving mondstadt and if she did something wrong and what she could do to make it better. it isn't hard to calm her down, cutting off her questions and explaining that you were simply going to visit some family in liyue and that you had left a note for her at home because you didn't want to bother her when she was so busy. whether or not that was the truth, she didn't care. she was pulling you back in the direction of the city, shaking her head. "no, i can't focus on anything when you aren't here. i need you."

XIAO — felt a little hurt, finding you gone. he was one of the hardest to get away from, always at your side unless the traveler called him away or something happened that required his attention. he thought you had gotten used to him by now, seeing as you never shied away from him when he was around anymore. so yeah, he was real fucking hurt when he returned to the inn and found your room empty. not even verr knew where you had gone. he isn't the type to immediately panic, but he is tense and will gradually get more agitated the longer it takes to find you. if he finds you quickly, the most you'll get is a cold glare as he drags you back to the inn. if he finds you after searching for hours upon hours, he will cling to you as if you would disappear if he let go. his breathing would be heavy, his face buried in your neck as he grounds himself. you were back in his arms, and either way, he wasn't going to let you leave his sight until he was sure you weren't going to pull a stunt like this again. if you want to wander around, then just ask and he'll go with you. "don't ever do that again. don't... don't ever leave me like that."

KAZUHA — would feel torn. while he understands the need and desire to roam the world and take in all that one can process, he also felt uncomfortable when you weren't around. a sick feeling budding in his chest, wondering if maybe you weren't wandering off but instead trying to leave him. he wants to trust you, and most of the time he does, but... you've tried leaving him before. many times, actually, that he's lost count. so, as much as he would love to leave you to your own devices, he just didn't trust you enough. he would ask other travelers if they'd seen you by chance, and some would point him in your direction while others would shake their heads. no matter, he took any and all help given to him until he finally spotted you. his approach was quiet, and you were startled when you had finally noticed him. he didn't say anything for a moment, just staring at you. there was something about his gaze that felt more intense than normal. it was like he was studying you, deciphering your actions. it didn't last long, because the look was replaced with a soft smile as he held his hand out, beckoning you to take it. "let's walk together."

SUCROSE — also didn't immediately notice. similar to jean, she can get pretty busy with work and gets so invested that she'll often times forget her surroundings. it's only when albedo or noelle make a comment on you not being by her side that she snaps to attention, looking around with a puzzled expression. when had you left? how long had you been gone? when she had last spoken to you, the sun was high in the sky. it was dark now. she would stutter out a quick departure to whichever friend had told her you were gone before scurrying away to try and find you. she would have the hardest time finding you, nervously approaching strangers on the street and asking if they had seen you or not. one person mentioned seeing you at the barbatos statue, and she immediately darted off in that direction without sparing the informant a second glance. and she was damn near tears when she found you. she wouldn't understand why you had left without telling her first, wondering if maybe she had done something to upset you. she'd be apologizing, telling you she was sorry if she made you mad, and begging you to come home. given how you two were in public, you felt a bit out of place so you agreed just to stop having people look at you. she would hug your arm the entire time, refusing to let go until the two of you were back at her home. and then she'd offer you something to drink! as an apology! and, well... if she puts a little something in it to tire you out, then that's too bad. "o-oh, you feel sick? maybe you should try to rest... don't worry, i'll be here to take care of you."

HEIZOU — would be the second one to find you quickly. he's a detective, so obviously he'll be able to track you down with ease! your attempts at trying to cover were tracks were adorable but futile. he had found you probably a mere hour after you had gone off, though he didn't immediately make his presence known. he was curious as to why you had left so abruptly without telling him, wondering if maybe something had happened or if you were, perhaps, trying to leave him. but you wouldn't do that! right? either way, he's following you in secret. some may call this stalking, but he calls it... lovingly admiring from afar. this'll go on for hours, more than likely. he's not in any rush to drag you home, and he gets to partake in his favorite pastime! so, by all means, continue walking. he'll probably do a few things here and there to startle you, making noises by shaking bushes and branches or throwing rocks. he likes seeing you on edge; he thinks you're cute when you're constantly looking around, searching for him. of course, once you get too close to ritou for his liking, he'll bring the fun to an end and finally make his presence known by hugging you from behind, a cheeky smile on his expression as you tense up. "caught you!" he hums, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as if to prove to you that he was actually there. maybe he'll lock you up at home for a few days just to keep you all to himself. y'know, as his prize for catching you.

WANDERER — thinks it's amusing, honestly, that you think you can sneak off without him noticing. he'll let you go off on your own and let you think you have the freedom of doing so, but only because he has other pressing matters to attend to. he'll take is time too, going about his tasks at a languid pace, not at all worried about where you may be or where you might go. some people may ask about your whereabouts since you're usually almost always with him, and he'll just offer them a smile that... well. it puts them on edge, to be honest, and it makes them drop the topic. he'll even occasionally take breaks, enjoying a drawn-out lunch with nahida and even deciding to indulge the traveler a bit and walk with them through the city. but the moment he finishes all of his tasks for the day, he's going after you. you've had enough freedom today, and he wants you back at his side. it's where you belong, after all. he won't lie, it's exciting, searching for you like this. he wonders if you know whether or not he's after you. maybe you've been looking over your shoulder the entire day, wondering if he'll be right behind you. the thought alone fills him with an almost gleeful joy. and when he does find you, he's not wasting a single second before grabbing you, lips twitching upwards slightly at the startled shout you let out. "did you have fun?" he'll ask, though it would be hard to tell if he wanted a serious answer or not. he doesn't really care, in all honesty. you're back in his arms, right where you belong. his prized possession.

[redflagshipwriter]

Check yes ch 11

masterpost

Jason repressed honest to god giggles until Danny phased them out of the building and to ground level. Then they started running back to where he had left his bike, laughing with adrenaline as Jason’s footsteps beat down on the pavement. They ran through a thick cloud of smoke outside a barbeque place, bathed in spice and meat essence. “The look on his face!” Jason gasped. “Why did that looney tunes plan work?”

“That’s how my battles go,” Danny defended himself, grinning so hard he glowed under the yellow tinted streetlights. Jason wasn’t sure he was actually running, per se. Was he touching the ground? “I do shit like enter video games and physically fight firewalls. You people are not prepared for me.”

“No shit, Bugs Bunny.” Jason snickered and wiped tears of laughter away before he unhooked his helmet from his bike. Danny shied away like he was worried Jason would force him to take head protection. Jason had fought enough of those battles for today, so he let it go when he never would for a normal passenger. After a moment Danny skittered back into grabbing range and Jason jokingly snagged his arm to reel him onto the back of the bike. “Where to, Prince Charming?” he teased.

Danny went stiff and cold behind him, which was really on brand for a corpse. But it also made it very obvious that he was trying to suppress some kind of reaction.

Okay. That nickname was either really good or really bad. Jason kept his body language loose and open, not really concerned but very aware that he did have an interdimensional monster guy on the back of his bike. “Brr,” Jason complained mildly. For real, it was like having a big ice pack pressed up against his back. How did it permeate his leather jacket and layers of tactical material so easily?

“...Sorry,” Danny said, voice flat. He reached out and gripped onto Jason’s front pockets. “Please don’t call me that one, for mysterious reasons.”

“...Alright.” Jason took that on board. He’d stepped near some kind of trigger. He made sure to remember it. “I have questions that are answered by the ‘mysterious reasons’ clause at the end of your sentence. Fair play. Let’s go to the arcade. It’ll take him a while to follow us.” He latched his helmet and kicked up the stand. “Hold on.”

Danny snorted. “Hang on,” he said scathingly, but there was a teasing lilt under the words. “You cannot possibly throw me off. Grungier men than you have tried.” 

Grungier? Not bigger or meaner or whatever? Jason choked down a laugh. Danny sounded so serious about it, too.

“Odd flex.” Jason turned on the engine and started off before Danny could do more than sputter at his deadpan response. They weaved between heavy Gotham traffic, protected from car fumes by Jason’s breathing filters and Danny’s nonchalant attitude regarding reliance on oxygen. 

Click

Danny jerked behind him, a clear indication that he heard the tiny sound of Jason’s helmet mic turning on. 

He hadn’t done that, so the list of suspects was very short. “Hello, Barbie,” he drawled.

Her unfiltered voice rang out in his ear. “Let’s go party,” she dead panned. Danny pressed his palms a little harder into Jason’s stomach in what might have been proprietary. Was he jealous? “Terrible of you to set a fox in the henhouse when I am off work.”

“Dick started it,” Jason whined honestly. He hit the brakes as the light ahead turned a yellow that cast eerie shades across lingering puddles. “I’m just trying to have a nice night out, and he wants to bother us.”

A female voice faintly floated across the background of Barbara’s call. “Poor baby,” Babs cooed mockingly. “Are you really so innocent? No instigation?”

“Not a word,” Jason lied. He put his feet down to brace the bike. Danny was the weirdest passenger he’d ever had, by virtue of being weightless and having no wind resistance. It was like driving alone except that there were hands on his front and a face pressed against his left shoulder blade.

Someone laughed in the distance. “I want to play,” Barbie sighed. It came across crystal clear into his ear.

“On my team?” Jason asked hopefully. 

She snorted. “Depends on how the chips are falling when I’m done with this presentation. Right now, it’s two to one, isn’t it? Dick’ll look for someone to play on his team before too long. It won’t be me, at least for an hour.”

Information was never free. “Thank you,” Jason said, already mentally allotting a couple hours next Saturday to moving heavy things around the Clock Tower. “Damn decent of you. Wanna say hi to Danny?”

Babs paused. “He’s not wired in, is he?”

The light turned green. Jason kicked up and breezed through the intersection. “No, but he can hear you.”

Danny’s chest became a little more solid against Jason’s back and he- slithered? Was he slithering?

“Hello, Barbie,” he said, politely and somehow inside Jason’s helmet.

Jason was very still. Wow. Bad. His hindbrain did not like this. 

“Call me Barbara, please,” she said. “Danny, right? Are you boys having fun at Dick’s expense today?”

“I dumped water on him,” Danny said happily.

There was a long moment. “How?” Barbie was hiding it, but she was a little disturbed. Jason got it. Dickie was one of the best in the game. 

“I phased through the ceiling when he was distracted, talking to a waiter.”

“Ah, you can fly. That’s pretty ghostly.”

Danny made a grunt. “Well, yeah, but actually I went zero gravity and made it look like I was lizard-crawling on the ceiling with glowing eyes.”

“...Can you hand the helmet back to Jay?”

“I’ll just back out,” Danny said, and slid back down Jason’s back. He suppressed a shiver. It was like- it was like being partially overlapped with some kind of cooled gel. It wasn’t just on his skin, it was sliding easily against the first layers of muscle or something underneath.

‘Interdimensional monster,’ Jason reminded himself. ‘Hot interdimensional monster.’ He put his questions away for later. “He’s fabulous, right?” he drawled. “We’re about to our destination, if it’s alright to get off the line.”

“Stay safe out there, loverboy.” Babs cut the call abruptly.

“She seems nice,” Danny lied. Or maybe he was just a bad judge.

“She will become our enemy real quick if it’s more amusing to her,” Jason corrected. “She’s a terrible enemy to have. I hope her date goes so well she doesn’t check in.”

Danny sulked against his back and slid his cold fingers through Jason’s jacket to rest of his skin directly. Jason suppressed a yelp, barely. “Boring,” he moaned. “If she’s powerful, she should fight me.” “Don’t buy that trouble,” Jason muttered. Jeeze. This dead guy had no self preservation instinct.

[phantasmique]

Summary: it's moments like these where you can hardly recognize Sukuna as the terror that he is. But you aren't complaining.

Warnings: some mentions of violence but overall, just a bunch of fluff. Short and sweet.

Clingy.

It isn't a term that you ever could have imagined using for Lord Sukuna, but as of late, you've been struggling to apply a different word. Possessive certainly comes to mind. And it's definitely fitting for a man like him.

He doesn't share. He doesn't allow other people to so much as entertain the notion that he'd be willing to let another soul touch you - or any of his other concubines for that matter.

But it wasn't a secret, that for whatever reason, you are his favorite. It was a well-known fact in the estate. A truth that was aware to each and every servant housed among his staff. The details of your relationship with the King of Curses are exchanged quietly amongst the laborers and servants. Spoken in confidential hushes within the cover of darkened hallways and private corridors as they all speculate what you might have done to captivate the attentions of the man - an entity, more like. Hardly human anymore.

So it was odd that a beast as sadistic and self-serving as he would allow himself to be fascinated by someone as lowly as you. Even with your own cursed technique, you were hardly anything to gawk over, especially not by the likes of Ryomen Sukuna, a being that could rip you apart in the blink of an eye.

And yet, he does just the opposite, often demanding that you keep close to him. Always ordered to trail after him, expected to be just as consistent and loyal as a shadow.

You aren't ignorant to the glares that it earns you. Mostly from the other courtesans. Not that you could entirely blame them.

In this world, Sukuna's attention equals protection, and if you were in their positions, to him so entirely focused on another person, would feel like a death sentence.

But their desperation leaves them to try too hard. Coquettishly batting their eyelashes and swinging their hips in the hopes of enticing him. It was all too heavy handed. Their desperation was all obvious, and some of the most skilled amongst the harem are crumbling beneath their attempts to keep him intrigued.

He pays them little mind. Nights are still spent with them yes, a hedonist like him always indulging in the pleasures of flesh and life in any facet he can, but he doesn't request for any of them to trail after him in the way you're commanded to.

They are all free to wonder about the estate unrestrained, but you are to have your movements under constant scrutiny. If on the off chance you aren't at your position at your lord's side, you're accompanied by an escort in some capacity. It doesn't matter if you're safe within the estate grounds, you're to be monitored.

He keeps you guarded. Kept hidden like some sort of relic. Some sort of revered treasure that's been contained and bound down tight for his eyes only.

But you'd be lying if you didn't find some pleasure in it.

There's something empowering about having a man - a monster - as infamous as the King of Curses entranced by you. Even if he vehemently denies such a notion.

A displeased scowl always mars his features whenever the idea of it is implicated. A scoff puffing from his chest as though he's equally amused and offended, but you know that you have him.

His affections aren't sweet or docile. He doesn't care in a way that's light, delicate or embracing. He's all teeth and hunger. An endless chasm of want and greed that latches on like a parasite, sinking his claws into you until they're bone deep, rooted into your marrow to consume you from the inside out. Until there's nothing left.

It would be so easy to trick yourself into believing that he's some sort of old god. A deity of discord and avarice that's been written out of history, smeared from ancient scrolls and bygone texts by the very mortals that were meant to fear and worship him.

But he was human once long before he had become twisted and gnarled by his own corruption. Many see his existence as a blight on the earth. Sorcerers deeming his being as a blight on jujutsu. A disfigurement. A creature. More monster than man.

But to you, his horror only made him even more bewitching. There's a beauty in his violence. It's a temptation that you can't ignore. It draws you too him like a lure. A fly foolishly gliding into a vat of honey, willfully weighing down its own wings in the adhesive glimmer of gold and amber, drowning itself in the rich saccharine pools. A moth fluttering closer and closer to an open fire - not a single ember, not a delicate flame, but a full inferno; a pyre scorching its path across a forest, carving its destructive mark across the earth in licks of blazing, molten heat. And you long to burn.

You'd die a thousand times to gaze upon him.

Fortunately, you don't have to.

He wants you alive. Safe and secure regardless of how indifferent he expresses himself to be. You can see past the slivers in his facade - well, it's not quite a facade. He truly is callous. Apathetic and cold. He's an entity that deals in extremes. That lives to satisfy his own hubris and hunger, but you think that's why you've managed to slip past his rough exterior and nestle a place for yourself near that motionless, dead heart of his.

It was your determination. Your own unyielding pride that would endear you to him, as much frustration and sadistic glee that it had caused him in the beginning. He had delighted in trying to wear you down. Prodding and clawing at you in the hopes of seeing the head that you always held high hang down in defeat.

To snuff out the confidence in you that had been fostered and inherited from the generations of sorcerers that have come before you.

He's yet to succeed, and you think that is what has drawn him to you. Your refusal to roll over and bear your belly merely because he ordered it. It took years for you to yield to him without rebuttal or open annoyance; for him to know that you weren't simply a dog taught to heel, but you think that he takes pride in knowing that you've fallen to his violent allure.

You doubt he realizes how subdued his become with you. Blind to the extent of his own affections - as edged and barbaric as they often are. But every once in a while, he grows lax underneath your hands. Turning malleable and warm like melted wax. The sharp edges that make him shifting and softening just enough for your palms to glide over him.

He's so different from the beast you had met all those years ago, forced to kneel in order to save your throat while scrutinized you from the height of his throne, all arrogance and cruelty.

And now here he is, face cradled in your palms while you both lounge about, shielded from the gentle golden light of the evening sun by the roof of the yuka. Using your lap as a makeshift cushion while he reclines fully on the floor, his long legs stretched out, a pair of his limbs limp on either side of him while the other set are clasped together by their fingers, resting on his sternum.

It's not exactly the image that you would associate with a king. Much less the King of Curses. Yet here he is, all four of his eyes shut while he draws deep, steady breaths into his lungs.

It'd be easy to think that he's asleep, but you know better. Still, it doesn't keep you from allowing your gaze to dart across his face, taking note of his placid, almost peaceful expression, free from its usual scowling or sneering. The shape of his lips no longer pulled back into a taunting smirk, but neutral and almost soft.

It's a state that not many are honored with seeing, and you can't help but to indulge in it now that you have him here.

You nearly feel like a glutton as you sweep your vision over him in a shameless observation. Letting your focus trace over the tattoos that decorate his body. Slashes of black against the pale shade of his skin.

You've always wondered the meaning of them. You know that some sorcerers will get tattoos that represent aspects of their technique; it bonds them closer to their cursed energy and makes it more fluid to wield. But you can't help but to be reminded of the tattoos forced upon criminals. The markings on his arms are suspiciously similar to the same ones you've seen stamped upon the flesh of delinquents - the lowly men and women that you had been warned about by your mother and escorts while within the city. People who had been branded for their crimes as punishment.

The dark bands encircled around his wrists and biceps share somewhat of a similarity to the tattoos given to thieves, though the placement of them is a little off to be considered truly alike.

With how demented he is, you wouldn't be surprised if he intentionally made them look similar as some sort of twisted way of honoring his many crimes.

It has one of your hands lifting, your fingers slipping from the delicate grip they had on his hair to slip along his chest, feeling his muscle rippling beneath your palm as you brush your fingertips along the ink imbedded into his skin.

A low rumble reverberates from the depths of his ribcage, rising somewhere from within his lungs. It seems like a warning almost, one that anyone else would have heeded, but you keep your hand fixed in place, caressing your thumb just beneath his collarbone.

His eyes peal open then, squinting just enough to glare up at you from his place cradled between the plush of your thighs. Searing red, but the irritation reflecting from them is lazy. An echo of the languid way he's positioned himself within your space.

"I don't recall permitting your hands to wander." It comes out like he's berating you, but he makes no effort to correct your apparent error, remaining motionless and relaxed as you continue to card your other hand through his hair, lightly scratching your nails along his scalp.

You don't miss how his lashes flutter when you do it.

It makes a smile long to pull at the corners of your lips, but years of self-restraint and etiquette keep it from showing. Though you're sure that your mirth is revealed in your eyes.

"What's with all the staring?" He complains idly. His brow raising to further pronounce his question.

"I'm simply admiring my lord," you answer. A truth, and yet the playfulness in your voice is clear.

"As you should be."

You'd scoff if the hand on his chest wasn't so close to the mouth on his stomach. You wouldn't be surprised if he decided to snap it between those massive jaws to reprimand you.

You've seen it yawn open to gnash at limbs, massive teeth sinking into flesh to tear and rip, drinking down blood and shattering bones as easily as brittle branches.

It makes you mindful of how close you allow your fingers to drift, not allowing them to slip past the swell of his firm chest and down near the indention that slices across the width of his abdomen. A hint at the starved chasm that lurks behind it, the rows of fangs that wait to bite and eat.

He's used that mouth against you many times, none of them in such a malicious manner, but you still can't help but to be a little wary of it. You swear that it has a mind of its own sometimes, and you'd hate to be on the receiving end of a more violent kind of appetite.

It still can't keep you from your previous musings, and now that you have him focused you can't ignore the questions that are gathering in your mind.

"Your tattoos - are they amplifiers? I've seen a few sorcerers apply them to ground their technique."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would. That's why I asked."

He glares at you then. Eyes narrowing in a way that makes you feel like a target. It nearly forces you to brace for a sudden rush of cursed energy, the instinctual part of you warning that he might lash out as punishment, but nothing comes.

There's no prickle that bite across the air, stinging and sharp before it strikes you down, only a delicate brush of a summer breeze as it glides along your skin.

"Are there no bounds to your insolence? I should kill you for that." He grumbles, baring his teeth as though he means to ward you off.

"I apologize, my king. " It sounds like a bluff, even to you, so you're certain that he isn't convinced. The clipped hum you get in response only confirms that he doesn't. "I was only curious."

"Keep your musings to yourself."

It's said sharply. A clear command for you not to prod at him further. Such an ornery, brash creature. You have to fight off the urge to roll your eyes at his curt behavior lest he chastises you more.

He acts as though it's a chore to be in your presence. As though he wasn't the one who had sought you out during your private time - a brief respite from the harsh nature of his courts and the routine of your daily schedule - to crowd himself within the structure of the gazebo, fitting himself along the wooden floor to rest the weight of his head within your lap.

Despite his apparent annoyance, he still doesn't tell you to cease touching him, and you know that one of the easiest ways of coaxing him back into a calm state is to give him attention. Regardless of how that attention is bestowed. Usually it's fear and dread that feeds into his ego the best, the screams and blood of others fueling that sadistic emptiness in him.

But you'll settle for touch for now.

He doesn't command you to halt your movements as you continue to sweep your hands along his body, messaging his chest and gently scratching along his scalp. If possible, it has him relaxing even further, going boneless on the floor with a heavy sigh, but his eyes don't slip shut this time. His lids fall heavy, nearly closing but staying open just enough to continue observing you through his lashes.

It's a cruel juxtaposition that someone who commits so many hideous atrocities is so beautiful.

The sun has crept a little lower in the sky, drifting downward in its course to reach the horizon and it allows glints of light to pour in past the small roof of the yuka. Traces of it catch in his hair, spilling along the soft shade of his hair, sketching over his features in gold. It puts fire in his eyes, glints of light flickering against rich red.

You can't help yourself this time when you allow the hand you have threaded in his hair to shift further down, sketching your fingertips along the structure of armored skin that rests over the right half of his face.

His eyes open a little wider then, latching onto your form with curiosity, and the hints of something more guarded present in them.

It doesn't stop you though. Perhaps a little foolish of you while it feels as though you're wandering into dangerous territory. A hare darting in front of a wolf's maw. Inviting itself to be bitten.

You feel possessed as you continue to cradle his face in your palm, struck by an emotion that is far too tender and enthralling for a being like him, but you have no desire to resist it.

The almost mask-like structure on his face is hard beneath your fingers, softened only slightly by the layer of calloused skin that's molded over it. The only comparison that you can make is if you were to touch a bit of bone poking out beneath the skin, like the jut of someone's hip or the point of an elbow. Rigid and tough, but also smooth in a way that's organic.

You make sure to be light, to keep your fingers from accidentally slipping close to his eyes and possibly irritating them. Surprisingly, he doesn't order you to remove your hands, allowing you to continue your exploration, letting your fingers sweep over the harsh edges and the divots of the natural armor.

You aren't sure how long you remain that way. Sweeping your hands over him, feeling the soft tufts of his hair on your palm and the rigid texture of his face along your fingers. Time slips away from you like this, and the delicate hiss of the wind threading through the trees and the perfumed scent of blossoms that it carries all fades into the background.

It all seems so unimportant. Useless as he stares up at you with something conflicted in his gaze. As though he's torn between lashing out or sinking further into your warmth.

"You're beautiful." It leaves you so naturally. The ease of it catching even you off guard. It's as though your soul is admitting a truth, one that you've been aware of but never had the courage to speak.

Suddenly you feel so bare. As though you've accidentally shed a meticulous piece of armor from yourself and allowed him to peek past. And the captivated look that you can feel weighing on your features certainly isn't helping.

He's equally as surprised. His eyes widening just the slightest in his shock, but it doesn't take long for him to recover, masking the expression with a scowl. You're certain that it's the exact look that many of his victims have been pinned by just before their death comes, delivered to them in a serrated rush of cursed energy or the lethal cut of his talons. And yet you can't bring yourself to be afraid. Not while he's cradled in the shape of your lap. Lazy and content despite his flaring.

"I'll cut out your tongue if you mean to insult me."

"I wouldn't think of such a thing." You promise. You're being entirely honest. The sincerity in your voice is as alive and burning as a fire. You can hardly place exactly when you've grown fond of him, just when exactly he had managed to bury beneath your skin to make a home for himself within your chest.

It's worrying just how much you've come to care for him. A development that your past self would have denied vehemently; you would have seen it as an ultimate betrayal to yourself, to your lineage and purpose. But you truly can't be bothered to worry about any of that now.

Not while something that nearly looks vulnerable passes through the rich shade of his eyes. A brief, defenseless show of emotion that he's quick to snuff out and hide with that typical brand of cold indifference; so quick that you hardly register it at all.

A hum leaves him them. More of a grumble. As though he's unconvinced of your assurance. But he doesn't bother with a verbal comment, only a sigh as he somehow settles further into your lap.

"Some of them are."

"Hm?"

"Amplifiers." He practically growls it out. Like clarifying is something tedious. A personal affront. He's glaring again. Squinting up at you like you're an annoyance - a gnat buzzing around his ear even while he's all but invited himself into your personal space.

It doesn't take you long to reconnect to your previous line of questioning. You can't help but to be a little surprised that he's bothered to circle back and answer them. Of course he has to do it on his own time. When he feels like doing so, dragging it out for the sake of keeping you from being in control - even in regard to something as simple as a couple harmless questions. Such a bullheaded bastard. Not that you'd tell him that.

A part of you longs to ask him just which ones specifically are amplifiers, which technique they belong to. The concept of such tattoos has always been fascinating to you. You've crossed paths with a fair share of sorcerers who have marked their skin with charged ink, rituals and their cursed energy directed to bind with the dark pigment.

Like a chain used to tether a wayward dog. A binding used to manage energy that's often too potent, too volatile otherwise.

With how practiced Sukuna is now with his abilities, wielding it with ease, bearing it like a second skin, he must have gotten the tattoos when he was still young and learning. Still a little disconnected from the cursed energy projecting from his body, simmering through his veins like the blood of a demigod, but too inexperienced to properly control it.

It makes you wonder what he may have been like way back then. It nearly seems impossible to imagine him as a child, with him being more beast than man. You're just barely able to visualize it, a much younger version of his current self, the sharp contour of his jaw much more rounded and youthful, shaping into chubby cheeks. Plump with stubborn baby fat.

He's probably always had that glare of his. Now it's an expression that induces fear and panic. The lethal hue of red that seems to burn in his eyes turning some of the bravest of sorcerers into pale comparisons of themselves. Back then that fearsome scowl must have been little more than a pout. A petulant furrow between his brows as glared up with wide, peevish eyes.

He must have been a handful for whatever soul had the misfortune of taking care of him, not that he's any easier to please now.

"You've got that stupid expression on your face again. Get rid of it." He snaps, fangs glinting from past his lips. "And did I tell you to cease touching me?"

You hadn't realized that your hands had slipped a little from crown of his head, fingers lifted to hover of his hair. The command doesn't annoy you as it probably should, as it would have in the past, it has a smile perking at your lips instead. Amused and soft. A reflection of the warmth blossoming inside the pit of your chest; a drop of sunlight burning and thriving.

You'd love to point out to him that he was complaining earlier about you doing just that, and now here he is, ordering you to touch him like some kind of spoiled house cat.

You'll keep your comments to yourself for now. All snide remarks and annoyance aside, he seems to be in a fairly good mood today, and you'd hate to ruin it now that you've got him rested in your lap.

Your hands seem to have minds of their own, muscles shifting to thread your fingers back through his hair, scratching your nails along his scalp. You don't miss the minute way his neck twitches, the movement nudging his chin back just the slightest to press his head into the gentle glide of your fingers. Subconsciously seeking out the comfort they provide.

He looks calm. At peace, eyelashes fluttering lightly before they slip shut. He sags down fully. Going lax and almost boneless. The weight of his head in your lap is nearly crushing, but you can't be bothered to voice complaints or to try and shift him into a more comfortable position.

You'll gladly bear the weight of him regardless of how much discomfort it might bring. And in moments like this, with him cradled by your body, relaxed and content from the warmth of your skin and the sun, you think you'd do anything for him. You'd kill for him.

You think you'd die for him too.

[hobiebrownismygod]

miles 42 x touchy reader?

im on a trend of writing 42 rn I love him so much 😭 anyways I hope you like this!! Wasn't sure if you wanted fem or gn reader so I made them gn! <3

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Miles was never the touchy type. Ever since his dad died, he'd kept to himself. He stopped giving and receiving hugs (unless it was from his mother), and he absolutely refused to let people touch him.

That was...until he started dating you. That was a whole different story. Sure he didn't like being touched, but how could he say no to his adorable partner?

When you got close to someone, you were always touching them in one way or another, whether it was your finger hooked through their belt loop, your hand holding onto their elbow, or just your hand on their leg. You needed to be holding onto someone.

You weren't sure why you were like that, if you had some sort of unsolved trauma, or you were just really touch-starved, but you knew you loved being close to people.

So, even though you knew your boyfriend didn't like being touched much, and he wasn't the touchy type, you made sure to shower him with all the physical love and affection you could.

It was your love language!

"Milesss" you dragged his name out as you interlocked your fingers with his, pulling him into yet another store. "Come on! We've only been here for an hour!"

He groaned in response, shaking his head and letting you lead him into another clothing store. "I'm tired" He grumbled, letting go of your hand and folding his arms over his chest like he was having a tantrum. "Haven't you bought enough clothes?"

"We both know that's impossible" You scoffed, your hand latching onto his elbow to hold him down as you walked through the shop, already shoving some new shirts and items into your bag.

"Hey...do you like these?" You asked, stopping in front of a display of matching bracelets and oogling over them while he stood back with an unamused look on his face. "Yeah, they're nice babe" He said absentmindedly, eyes wandering elsewhere.

"We should get them! Matching bracelets, isn't that cute?" You asked, taking his hand and pulling him in a little. He scowled slightly, looking down at them and giving you a forced half-smile. "Sure. Whatever you want."

Your expression faltered slightly but you pressed on, looking through them for a pair that you thought would suit the two of you. "We could get blue and red...or we could get purple and green. Which do you like more?"

"Purple and green, probably" he said, taking his hand out of yours and shoving it back in his pocket.

You raised a brow at this. "You okay?" You asked a little softly, feeling your heart drop slightly. "I'm fine." He said normally, giving you a little shrug. "Why?"

"No reason...you just seem a little distant today." You said quietly, folding your arms over your chest. He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just one of those days, I don't know" he mumbled, looking away.

"Do you not want me to hold onto you?" You asked automatically. The first thing you always asked people when they acted off was whether you'd made them uncomfortable. You knew you were touchy and you knew some people didn't like that, but the fact that your boyfriend might've been getting sick of your touching was off-putting and made your expression fall.

"What?" He asked confusedly, putting his hand down. "Of course not. I'm fine with you holding onto me" He said half-heartedly.

You shook your head, looking away from him. "You're lying, I know you don't like it. I'm sorry, Miles...I just like holding onto people" you apologized awkwardly, starting to feel bad.

He shook his head at you, a smile forming on his face. "Hey, you know that's not the reason" He reassured you, taking your hand in his. "I'm just...not used to it much. But I like when you hold onto me, really."

"Really?" You asked glumly, looking up at him. He nodded, pulling you a little closer and kissing the palm your hand gently. "I love you, and I love how touchy you are." he said with a smile. "I'm just being a dick. Don't worry about it." he joked.

When he saw you didn't respond, his smile faltered slightly. He sighed. "Would you feel better if I gave you a hug?" he suggested, holding his arms out slightly.

Your face immediately lit up and you nodded shyly, walking into his outstretched arms. He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace and kissing the top of your head gently. "You know I love you right?" he murmured.

You nodded, a quiet laugh escaping your lips. "yeah, I know Miles" You whispered back, looking up at him and giving him a quick peck on the lips. "I love you too." His expression brightened in response.

He put one arm around your waist to hold you against him while he picked one of the bracelets up. "How about these ones hmm? I'll take purple, you take green?" He suggested while you adjusted your head against his chest. "Okay."

"Mm, okay. Let's go get them then. My treat."

"Your treat?" You laughed, looking up at him. "Miles, you're broke!"

"Uh, for your information I can afford a pair of ten dollar bracelets" he said with an eye-roll, inspecting them in his hands. "But yeah actually, I am kinda broke."

With a snort you took them from his hands, taking a step back and twirling them between your fingers. "I'll pay for it." You said, shaking your head.

"That's why I love you" he teased, gently putting his arm around your shoulder as the two of you walked towards the register. "And I know you love spoiling me"

"Hah! You're lucky I'm nice."

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Tags: @therealloopylupin2099 @l0starll @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @vileviale @puff-hugs @d0uble-tr0ubl3 @choccymilkdrinker @breadglasses @sunasslut69 @a-cinnamonbunny @ask-1610-miles @axels-garden @miniaturesuitfox @spotconlon55 @s6onder

[anantaru]

— cuddles after work

including heizou, alhaitham, ayato, scaramouche x gn! reader

genre: fluff, cuddles, sleepy boys

— heizou

the wind outside was cold, the night pressing, and as you had just finished getting ready for bed, you hear the kind, alleviating tune of your boyfriend's voice from across the room.

"come here, come here."

heizou couldn't wait any longer to branch his arms around your frame and cuddle you for what he'd love to be an eternity, it's a given for him, because the moment he steps inside your shared home, he had already decided to act like a little, whimsy baby, for whatever reason, theatrically whining and singing to you, so you'd hurry up in the bathroom and come back to bed.

without pretense, you make him wait on purpose and heizou knows, he always does.

but in the fullness of time, finally, you roll into the puffy, silken bedsheets before sloping into his chest, surrendering in that fleeting moment. "i'm here, i'm here." you giggle, banteringly rolling your eyes at him but by now you can certainly tell that he's at ease, of course when you cuddle him, accept his touches, quite flustered when you kiss him in time.

heizou adds on to his previous words, "i was waiting for hours." and latches his arms around your entire body. he observes himself now, and his heartbeat on the face of it kept a steady rhythm until the touch of you arrives, then its tempo rises into a new genre all together.

but it's pleasant, and kind.

your boyfriends countenance turns slightly more soft, blending hand in hand with his handsome, tired face.

you hope he's not trying to be this cute on purpose, because heizou was surely aware of the great, bristling weaknesses he'd inflict on you whenever he did it.

interesting, how fast time flew now, with the entire room being pitch black, and you swing one leg over his body before using his chest as your own, personal pillow for your head, "i'm here now."

heizou sighs against your ear when you say it, keeping his eyes closed, "yes, finally." and his slender hands, careful as always, touch you with such matchless, unequaled lightness, rolling down your sides and ultimately settling on your hips.

— alhaitham

alhaitham's eyes close at the leisure, watchful strokes of your hand gyrating over his scalp, with his head cushily drowsing on your lap— his breathing slowed, from his chest coming the first guttural snore.

he sighs, sputtering and struggling to find the right words, "this, this is good." and you touch his face repeatedly, whether it was neatly squeezing his cheeks or patting his head, in the present moment— alhaitham felt like he truly arrived home, something that wasn't a daily occurrence for him.

"we should get ready for bed soon." you attempt to reason with the man, but only get greeted with a half enthusiastic groan, rumbling from his chest, as if he was trying to voicelessly tell you that no, in fact, he was quite comfortable now and wanted to remain this way— quick to note that he'd absolutely love to read a book while resting on your lap like that, if only his eyes weren't so damn heavy right now.

he blames his work, the night, maybe the heavy food he consumed earlier as well.

moreover, he pulls his arms around your body, breath holding, so he could briefly slump you into him and share your rising body heat with each bother.

none of you speaks at first, it's not necessary and in the face of the night approaching, your frames had gradually gotten more fatigued and tired— but you are also content with each other, exchanging everlasting glances, the lightest of touches that melt on your warm prickling skin, lovely jokes and closeness, no more was needed.

you are the match for the scribe, you are his flame. that's love he never experienced before, like a blessing and challenge all in one.

for alhaitham, you're it, you're all.

— ayato

"I certainly could get used to this."

from the warm tones of ayato's cologne, to those of his soothing voice and well chosen words, he truly was easy to listen to— in addition to being unbelievably cozy while you closed your arms around his chest.

your boyfriend still hasn't undressed himself off his work garments to change into something more comfortable and light, because the second he rushed home, stepped into the secure place of your bedroom, there was no other way for him than to pull you into his chest, and never let go, or at least it felt that way.

you do not complain though, if things would only be so easy to be hidden for eternity, in the arms of the love of your life.

an unexpected kiss was placed on your forehead as you watch ayato's sleep stricken face under your doused lashes, "what was that for?" you're teasing him, asking as if there was supposed to be a deeper, more meaningful revelation for adding a small, not to mention sweet kiss on your face.

"i missed you." he admits blatantly, humming in thought, "and i crave you."

you cuddle yourself in, feeling the rise and fall of your lover's chest, the rhythmic tune slowing his own breathing and your emotions rise in all ways when his words embrace you, you can feel the love in your chest, spreading like the butterflies in your garden— how it sits on top of your heart, everything was perfect;

the air sweet, the weather outside calming, you can hear birds sing in the sky but also behind the windows of the room, and you can hear him, whilst silent, you listen to whatever ayato said.

humming, you reply, "i missed you too."

— scaramouche

the word you searched for was luscious, perhaps, because for something that was a fixed point in your daily routines, even you struggle to know on how to properly describe an intimate moment such as the one following.

yet it‘s also uproarious that you can, on the spot, detect whenever scaramouche was particularly worn out and beaten from his work, how he's keeping his eyes open with the last abutting power of his body.

"is this comfy, kuni?" he grunts at your words, especially the way you said it, how come you utterly loved to tease and pester him like that, especially when he had just melted into your arms, in accessory to the smell of the freshly washed sheets brimming over his nostrils.

little fun fact if you don't mind and he'd never admit it with a straight face but something about being the little spoon was very alleviating and consoling to kuni, the pure feelings can barely be described in one sentence, or so he saw it.

but scaramouche scoffs at your gentle teasing at last, he'd even search for a great rebuttal in his mind if he wasn't in such condition right now, sensing the shuttering of his synapses, the quite lure into sleepiness, all his energy slipping over his hands, but he doesn't grab it.

"hmpf." he closes his eyes, and for some reason he thinks that it would be possible to escape your sweet and flustering words with something so simple.

"what an insightful answer." you remark and cock a brow, squeezing your arms relatively strong around him while stretching your body to get the stiffness out of your shoulders.

"i'll answer tomorrow." scaramouche lightly opens his eyes again to look at you, arching himself into you more, just a little, "—way too sleepy." he's almost full asleep, his head lolling back and forth to find the most comfortable spot and the muscles of his face relaxing.

personally, he thinks he needs to savor this, because even though you were in a relationship, he still believes that one day you might be gone for good. granted, he was getting better at handling such thoughts, stopping himself whenever he realized he was too clingy, but you do not mind it, obviously treasured it whenever he showed you clear signs of love and trust.

"of course." you whisper, "sleep now." and watch him through the darkened room, shutting your eyes while finding unmatched relaxation by the soft breathes and pitched up sounds of your boyfriend.

the world can be dull, monotonous even, that much you were aware of, but with scaramouche by your side, it made the presumably small moments such as those in particular— simply coming home from an engaging day full of working, all the more unique in your eyes.

©2023 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[thestorycomesalive]

I Wish I Was

Din x Reader

Based on the song by the Avett Brothers

SUMMARY: While living on the Razor Crest with Din, he finds even your most simple acts to be the complete perfect declarations of his love for you.

Din was always pretty quiet. Before you and Grogu came along, there was never any need for him to voice his thoughts or actions. He would simply just do. Do whatever he thought he needed to, letting the silence seep into every crevice of the Razor Crest, until the inside of the ship itself became naturally soundless. The only sounds echoing off Din’s helmet came from outside the ship. The engine and the hum of hyperspace.

That was until you came along. If Din gathered anything, it was that you were much more willing to talk and fill his noiseless space with sounds of your own. The idea once annoyed him. But now, rather, he finds himself searching out for the small sounds you made. Whether from your own voice, the blabbers of the child, or the signals of either of your simple, daily actions. The sounds became a comfort. Where he once craved being alone, in his silence, he now craved the reminder that he wasn’t. He craved the everyday knowledge that the sounds that came from you or Grogu gave him. They were the sounds that reminded him that you were near. Although, he would never admit this to himself… and especially never to you. He told himself he sought out these sounds simply to ensure neither you nor the child were getting into trouble. But every great once in a while, he found his mind trailing down a path he often labored so hard to keep it from.

...............................................

He wasn’t sure precisely when it started. But he became familiar with the tug he felt when his heart pulled his ears and his mind towards the sound of your existence. The very first time he noticed it, was a night that Din sat, resting in his pilot’s chair of the Crest, staring out at the quickly fading streams of light that were tied to hyperspace. The lights had blown on the Crest, earlier that day, leaving the ship pretty dark and hallow. Din had mumbled out, alerting you that he would find the right repairs on Nevarro when you landed. For now, you and Grogu had spent most of the day searching the ship for any source of light. You kept Grogu latched to your hip, so not to lose the small green baby. He had a streak of curiosity, and you knew the moment you let him out of your sight, it would be a riot finding him once more. So there he sat, attached to your hip, as you distracted him, turning your search into a small scavenger hunt for the doe-eyed baby. Din had heard the muffled sounds of you opening doors and cabinets from the cockpit all day. He had sworn to himself that your mission was going to be fruitless, considering he had never found any reason for flashlights or candles since his helmet provided all of the visibility he needed. That was until he heard the shuffling stop and the creak of the ladder to the cockpit start.

He didn’t turn to look at you when your footsteps stopped next to his chair. Instead, he knew that if you had something you needed from him, you would undoubtedly voice your concerns aloud. But you stepped in front of the line of view, next to his chair, the child on your hip, and a small lantern with a tiny flame in it, held in your other hand. This did catch his attention. He was surprised that your search had been successful, but he was even more surprised that he did not recognize the small lantern or the candle within it at all. He figured he must’ve plucked it off of a random bounty years ago, when disarming them before flushing them through the cryofreezer. He watched as you gently placed the lantern next to him on the dashboard, ensuring the lid was on safely, once more. He bit back a small smile under his helmet, recognizing your anxious tendencies as you ensured the flame would stay within the small lantern under any circumstances. Once it was settled in front of him, you took the child and moved to your passenger’s chair, placing Grogu happily on your lap, as your arms wrapped around him. Once you were seated, you simply turned your chair towards Din’s as you routinely did, with a soft smile gracing your face as you studied his T-shaped visor. He watched the flame dancing being the tiny glass shields with curiosity, his attention breaking from it when you started.

“I know you have your helmet, but I thought we could share it anyway…”

He turned to look at you, taking in the sight of you and the baby bouncing on your lap. Your gaze held his, the soft smile lingering. Once you felt his eyes on you, you felt all confidence drain from your body, your eyes faltering to the side, studying the carved, plated glass that held the small flame. He tilted his head slightly. You hadn’t always done that. In fact, you had been so bold, so outgoing when he met you. It wasn’t until recently that your gaze would falter after meeting his. And it was more often than not. He began to wonder if he made you uncomfortable. He knew you weren’t scared of him, although he thought you likely should be. Or perhaps you truly just were so entranced by the beauty of the small trinket, that your gaze had been true and purposeful, though, deep down, he knew you better than that. So his eyes lingered as he contemplated where your possible sudden timidness had originated from. After a second, his eyes shifted back to the candle. And as you three sat in the warm glow, he too let his eyes study the small trinket. Not the glass, nor the candle. But rather, the flame itself.

He let his thoughts take over once more, as the sounds of the crackling whisp filled the air. With you so close to him, under the warm, romantic glow of a single, small fire, he couldn’t help but feel his brain take him away to that place that he so desperately kept himself from. He couldn’t help but find beauty in the small fire… but what truly tore him apart, was that the small fire made him think of you. You were much the same. A small flame, contained like this, lights up his ship, warms the pit just enough to keep them happy. But if he truly let go, let it in, and rid himself of the glass. He was sure he would burn. Consumed in the flames of you, setting him alight, burning his every being. But once he let it burn, should the flame ever go out, he was sure he would never be able to live without it again. Cold, dark, alone once more, the remnants of everything he once had, lost to the fire, obliterated… So, he would have to keep it small, confined in its beautiful cage. He would have to ensure he had just enough of the light and the warmth to not be alone, but not so much that he risks it all.

But then his thoughts shifted. Did you look at the flame and think of him too? He thought he’d prefer it if he were the flame instead. You would light him, give him your attention, as you did every day you were with him. And then one day, you would leave him, put him out, when you were done. He figured it would save him the pain. It would protect his glass walls so that he would never burn. You would give him a glimpse of a life with you, just enough to enjoy it, and allow him to return to his confinement and solitude. He figured that would be the best case for both of you. He let his mind trail to all of the times that he felt your eyes falter under his in the past weeks. He wondered if you thought this might be the best too. If one day, he might get his wish, and his candle would return the hollow of whatever cupboard you found it in, never to be plucked out again.

He pulled himself out of his trance and stole a glance at you from the corner of his visor. You were in a trance of your own, studying the flame in your own way. Your eyes concentrated, and a small, gentle, beautiful smile silked to your face. Tiny snores sounded out from where Grogu slept on your now steady lap. He turned back around, trying to push away his own smile he felt creeping up his face, like an unwanted visitor.

...............................................

The next time he recalled his thoughts taking a path towards the heart of you, he had been on a bounty for a few weeks, and he had wanted nothing more than to find his way back to the Crest and Grogu… and begrudgingly, most of all, you. But he reminded himself he just longed for the sounds echoing through the ship instead of your actual presence. The thought itself made his betrayed heart push against his chest plate with a vengeance.

He walked up the ramp of the ship, quickly tucking the bounty away in cryofreeze as he always did, away from where you would be, ensuring the safety of you and the child. His heavy, tired footsteps trudged up the small, indoor ramp to the tiny living space where his pace stalled. His breathing hitched once he heard it. It was a sweet song, echoing off the walls of the ship, a pure, melodic voice, tracing over every inch of the room. He’d know that voice anywhere. And for a moment, he thought he might head straight to the cockpit, avoiding you and your siren song all together. He wasn’t sure his walls could withstand the sweetness of your singing. But as if a hypnotized sailor, his footsteps carried him through the doorway, his mind racing with what visual he might find.

And the reality was nothing short of his fantasy. There you were, standing in a beautiful sundress, Grogu on your hip. You were swaying your body as your hair nestled around Grogu’s face, that held a toothy smile. The song came soft and sweetly from your honeyed lips, as you nestled the side of your face into the top Grogu’s head lovingly. The sight nearly brought Din to his knees. He stood there and let the syrupy sound taint his ears and fog his brain, his mind going to the place he dared not go. That sweet song. How he longed to be the words and the notes flowing from your lips. He felt a pang of envy. They were awarded the taste of you… the feel of your lips upon them, and that was something he would never have. If given the chance, he would gladly trade his life for the life of your song. He would trade his long, lonely, broken life, for the short life upon your lips, ending whenever you’d choose, at your mercy of quieting down. It was the sudden silence that pulled him from his mind, clearing his throat slightly, pulling himself back down to reality.

You stood in front of him with wide eyes, Grogu still on your hip, your movements frozen, as you breathed for a beat and that familiar gentle smile lifted those same lips he had longed to inhabit. He could hear the sound of your small exhale, your face flushing pink at having been caught.

“You’re back,” you murmured through your smile.

He just nodded his head, swallowing thickly, trying to remind himself that he cannot afford to let his mind linger on you the way it so terribly wants to.

“Yeah,” was all he was able to mutter out.

He couldn’t stop the warmth he felt when he saw your smile grow bigger.

...............................................

Din was scheduled to abandon the hearth of his home for a bounty on the cold, torturous climate of Carlac. He worried about leaving you and The Child, frightened that his absence would leave you vulnerable and weak to the frigid air around you. He knew, sensibly, the ship was heated, and you would be safe, but he could not stop his wandering mind from fearing all of the fatal possibilities. What if the ship’s heat broke while he was gone? What would he come back to? His two great loves frozen in peril, his own heart freezing once again with their deprivation. No. He wouldn’t let that happen. When you next saw him, he was digging frantically through his collection of unwanted things for anything that could keep you warm, should any impending dangerous circumstances occur in his leave. He plucked a large sweater that looked like it once belonged to a creature the size of a Bantha, and a woolen blanket, just as big. You stood, giggling at him. And that’s when his ears were hit with your sweet melodic sound.

“We’ll be fine, Din.”

He practically grunted. You were too naive. How could you be so sure? No. He wouldn’t take any chance. He couldn’t afford any chances.

“You don’t know that. Carlac is a dangerous place… Here, take these. I want you to wear it. No questions asked. The blanket is for the baby.”

He handed you the large sweater and blanket, your warm fingers brushing his gloved ones, the contrast making him shiver. Your sweet gentle hands that tended to The Child, daily. They ensured life and prosperity. His gloved hands prepped to deliver death and violence, ready to end the same things you nurtured. He watched as you took the objects, knowing better than to argue with him, sensing it would be futile. You lifted the sweater over your head, without even placing The Child down. Simply shifting Grogu in your arms, Din watched the sweater linger over your fingertips, falling tranquilly over your knees. The whole sight was much too domestic for his heart, watching as you wrapped the baby in his own blanket. Din scanned the sweater with a hum of approval. It would be suitable enough to sustain your warmth. To protect his heart’s very owner. And once again, he found himself longing to take the place of the sweater. Wishing to stay on the ship with you, to hold you, to be the one to provide you warmth and shelter, protection. He wanted to swaddle you in love and fortification forever. And although he knew, in reality, he must abandon the ship and leave you to the confines of your knitted pattern, he found himself internally promising to be your sweater, the moment your little clan left Carlac. He would surround you, guard you, always.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a pink tinge on your cheeks. Why were you blushing? Had he been staring? He was thanking his Maker that his helmet was forever glued to his face so you would have no way to guarantee. Perhaps the sweater was uncomfortable.

“Are you alright?” he worried.

You took a breath, murmuring, “Yeah, sorry. It’s perfect, thank you.”

He just nodded, hesitating. He turned to trudge, leaving awkwardly, bluntly, his thoughts filled with images of you.

Maker, he was in deep.

[paperclipninja]

I feel like it's been pointed out before but it never hurts to reiterate- that look on Aziraphale's face just before he breaks into the wild grin in the elevator, this one:

The way he holds his mouth, that expression is exactly the same as

To me, it's his battle face, he's ready to fight.

I see an angel who is committed to protecting, no matter what, and is steeling himself for what is to come.

Now this one might be a little straw clutchy but there is another, fleeting, expression that for some reason my brain latched onto as one we have also seen before.

This is a blink and you'll miss it flicker of an expression just before he says (CW: Final Fifteen™) "I forgive you".

I kept thinking, where have I seen that microscopic mouth grimace before? And then I realised, it reminds me of the same tiny mouth movement here:

The difference is really what happens next. In the Job episode, Aziraphale pulls this expression immediately after the line, "I give you my word as an angel", when he is committing to the lie about Job's children and the tight mouth eases into the hint of a (very tense) grin as he waits to see if Gabriel believes him. It's part hoping the lie lands and part preparing to protect Job and his family.

The same mouth expression (is that a thing? For the sake of this flimsy tying together of moments it's a thing), flashes across Aziraphale's lips after he sort of composes himself after the kiss, before he utters the forgive you line.

It's almost as though he is preparing himself to deliver a line that he knows isn't true (or more, that he doesn't want to deliver), just as he did with Job. Only this time he knows the impact the words will have, on both him and Crowley, so of course there is no anticipatory smile afterwards. But in both instances, I think, he's wanting the person he's spoken to to believe what he's said, only for very different reasons.

But wait, there's more! In the final fifteen™ moment, Aziraphale's mouth actually moves through two expressions before he says the line. There's first of all the bracing for the lie/I'm about to say something I really don't want to say mouth, as seen above.

But then, it quickly shifts immediately before he speaks:

Terrible screenshot and possibly extraordinarily tenuous, but I'm choosing to think that in that moment, Aziraphale is readying himself to do what he has to to protect. Just as we've seen previously.

And he can only do that by going through with what has now been set in motion, and so he says "I forgive you", knowing it'll push Crowley away but it's not what he wants to say, it was something he had to brace himself for.

And I'm also hoping there might be a moment where the emphasis in s2 on Aziraphale and Crowley being able to read one another and communicate without words might come into play, and Crowley will realise Aziraphale was doing what he had to, and that those words pained him to say. And that he'll know that Aziraphale would do whatever it takes to protect him and their fragile existence (but I'm also ok with it being full of tension and not talking and getting an amazing reunion so, yah!).

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp my good sir, may I ask for a desperate Phantom

ehehhe i remembered this hc that i mentioned once so here you go, just a little related thing

gill licking, hand jobs

There is something in the air tonight. Obviously; everyone is on edge.

A horny edge, all the ghouls and Papa are pent up for no apparent reason. They are all professionals, though, and they can—mostly—keep it in their pants during a show.

It’s slightly different with Phantom.

He’s still new and he’s rightfully compared to a perpetually horny teenager who, in fact, can not keep it in his pants.

For whatever reason, tonight he has his eyes on Rain. He was all but attached to his hip throughout the ritual, even skipping some parts of the choreo to stay close to the water ghoul. It’s not that serious, nobody will be upset with him for it, but it was noticeable.

Especially when Phantom tried to shove his face into the crook of Rain’s neck and failed—growling when their helmets kept him from actually getting to his neck. Rude piece of garbage.

Rain, though, knows well enough what the quintessence ghoul wants. If he thought Dewdrop and Swiss were insane about his gills, Phantom outranked them by far. Ever since he was...well, introduced to that part of water ghoul anatomy, Phantom was insane.

So there Phantom was, horny and trying to get his mouth on Rain’s gills during the show. Nothing especially shocking.

Now that the show has ended, the poor quintessence ghoul is whining and pawing at Rain, begging him to get rid of his damn helmet and balaclava and unglamor already.

“Batsy, gimme–gimme a second,” Rain grunts and finally rips the balaclava off of his head, throwing it carelessly onto the greenroom floor. Phantom lets out another loud whine and clings to the water ghoul as he unglamors with a shudder.

The moment the frills of his gills reappear, Phantom tackles him and throws them both onto the stinky couch. Better it than the floor. Before Rain can even notice what’s happening, Phantom has his mouth latched on his neck—tongue prodding into the slits as he suckles at the delicate flesh of his fins.

“Fuck, Phantom,” Rain moans, feeling his cock twitch in interest. Phantom’s own was hard rock for the better part of the last hour, and he whimpers at finally getting what he so desperately craved.

The quintessence ghoul is perched atop Rain’s lap as he passionately makes out with his gills, and it’s Rain who takes care of other unnecessary pieces of clothing covering them. He pulls off their vests and opens their shirts before unceremoniously shoving his hand down Phantom’s pants and wrapping his long, elegant fingers around his cock.

He moans obscenely and it reverberates through Rain’s whole neck. It has no right feeling this damn good, but it does, and the water ghoul waits no more to put his other hand on his dick.

“There we go, batsy,” he moans. Phantom only clings to him tighter and shoves his tongue so far down Rain’s gills that he can taste the inside of his throat. The water ghoul chokes.

[yngtort]

—skintight ❄️

Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock

Kinkmas day 3

xfem!reader mdni. 1.6kw. In which Chris really likes that dress you’re wearing

Baby, what’s taking so long?

“We’re gonna be late.” Chris said he knocked on the bedroom door.

He waited impatiently for you to come out, not knowing what was taking you so long. He just wanted to make it to his parents dinner party on time.

Like he gets that you want to impress his family, but it’s not really that big of a deal. His mom and dad already loved you for who you are, and he felt like you didn’t have to go all out every-time you see them.

“Y/n, come on.” he said, finally opening up the door.

his plan was to come in and drag you out the house, half naked if he had too. But when his eyes landed on you, wearing the cuntiest mrs.claus dress he’d ever seen, he changed his mind.

He was losing it, looking at how the dress hugged everything just right, showcasing every curve that he’s touched and kissed.

And those fucking fishnets.

The way your thighs strained against the diamond pattern made his mouth water. it took everything in him not press your face into the mattress and fuck you until bed gives in.

“What do you think?” the question was almost taunting as Chris watches you do a little twirl.

“I think I want to stay home.” He moves closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I don’t want anyone seeing you looking this good.”

You chuckle softly, “sorry, love. But we can’t ditch your parents.”

Chris groans, dramatically throwing his head back like a child. As much as he knew his parents wouldn’t actually care if you didn’t show up, he also knew that you were really excited to see them.

“Fine, fine.” He pouted and you can’t help but place a kiss on his soft lips.

“One more-“ “Chris.”

-

From the moment you stepped in the house, chris just couldn’t keep his hands off of you. with every step, he was trailing behind you, keeping his hand latched to your side.

you tried to brush him off as you talked with his mom, helping her set up the dinner table. And you’re more than happy when mrs.bang declines his offers to come along as well.

“What’s gotten into that boy? It’s like you casted a spell.” mrs.bang jokes as she sets the last plate down.

“It must be all the eggnog.” You reply and the older woman laughs.

“Whatever it is, I hope it gets me some grandkids.”

This was the reason why you adored his parents so much. They’re so lovable and easy to get along with, much like their son.

“What are you two over here gossiping about? The foods gonna get cold!” Mr.bang says with a hearty chuckle, taking his designated spot at the dinner table.

You watched as the rest of the family followed suit, sitting down at the table. you do the same, taking the empty seat beside chris.

“Hey you.” He says with a cheeky grin, hand automatically landing on your thigh.

“Hey.” you reply

Throughout the course of the dinner, his fingers just kept playing with your fishnets. Slipping his them through the holes, feeling the thin layer of stockings that your wore to keep you from getting cold.

His mind went rampant, thinking about ripping them right off you and using them to tie your hands together.

“Right, babe?” Your voice pulls him out of his thoughts in an instant.

“Huh? I’m sorry, what were you saying?” He said blinking at you like a dear in head lights.

A sigh leaves everyone’s lips at the table.

“your mom suggested that we stay here for the night, since it’s so late.” You explained.

“And you agreed?”

“Of course I did. Why wouldn’t I?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

Because he wants to go home and hear you scream his name, that’s why.

Chris press his lips into a line, not saying a word. you had already taken up his parents offer and he really didn’t want to make a scene by begging you to leave.

So in the end, he’ll just have to fuck you here.

-

you’re at the sink, watching the dishes on your own after offering to do so.

Of course everyone protested, but you convinced them that it’s the least you could do since they’re letting Chris and you stay there.

you sigh to yourself in relief as you get down to the second to last plate, hands tired and pruned from all the washing.

“Love,” a voice calls from behind and you don’t budge when two bulky arms wrap around your waist.

“I’m almost done, Chris. go to bed.” You say, rinsing off a dish.

“But I wanna help you." He whispered, grip only getting tighter as his head fell into the curve of your neck, placing soft kisses there.

“I don’t need help.”

"Yes, you do." He insisted, his voice husky with desire. “You’re taking so long already.”

“You’re so stubborn. Just go-“ your breath hitches, feeling his innocent kisses switch to sucking and biting.

“C-Christopher stop it.” You slap his arm, “that hurts.”

Chris hummed softly, letting go of your skin with a soft pop. “Can’t help it. You just look so delicious standing here.” He whispered, rocking his against you and you gasp.

“you’re hard..?”

"Been like this since I saw you in this dress." He admitted, his voice rough. "I want you so bad, y/n."

his hands slid up to cup your breasts, pinching and rubbing your nipples through the thin material.

“We can’t do this in your parents' house.” You protested despite how turned on you were getting.

"I don't care." Chris rolled his eyes, "We’re going to make love. Right here, right now."

he pushed you against the sink, his thick, hard cock rubbing against your backside. You don't even have a chance to think before your fishnets and stockings are being ripped open.

“Wait, wait.” "No more waiting." He hissed, sliding his hands over your lace panties and pulling them to the side.

"I want you bare for me." his fingers traced the slick folds before sliding inside you, filling you up with two fingers.

“Y-you’re insane”

“You love it," he grunted, punctuating his words with hard slaps against your ass. “You love being taken like this.” He pushed his fingers deeper, stretching your tight channel.

You absolutely fall apart on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as he pumps you restlessly.

“Gonna come on my fingers, hmm?” He whispers into your ear, nipping at it right after. “Go ahead then, beautiful.”

you bite back your moans as your orgasm rushes in, still trying to be mindful of the people within the house.

“That's it." Chris praised as you coat his digits. He pulls them out slowly and your hole puckers for more. it was such a pretty sight, ripped tights, soaked thighs— his dick twitched in anticipation.

Chris hands shook slightly as he pushed his pants and boxers down to his ankles. He positioned his tip at your entrance, teasing it just to get a reaction out of you.

“channie, please.” you whine, wiggling your ass back.

Your boyfriend chuckled, “soon, sweetheart.” he said before sinking inside. He hissed at how tightly your wrapped around him like he hasn’t fucked you enough.

“fuck, you’re so big.” You mewled.

"Not big enough." He growled, starting to move within you, his hips thrusting hard. The feeling of his cock stretching you walls drove you wild, every nerve in your body was in flames. “Wanna break you open, make sure you can only fit me.”

The kitchen was filled with heavy breaths and the sound of the water running. You had no idea if his parents could hear you from their room, but at this moment you didn’t care. Just wanted to be used by the man behind you.

Chris' thrusts were hard and fast, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he took you from behind. every time he hit your g-spot he got closer and closer to cuming.

“I love you so fucking much.” He groaned into your ear, hips stuttering. “wanna cum inside today. Can I? Fill you up with my seed?”

“yes, please” you granted, feeling your peak rise for the second time. “I need it.”

“Take it.” his fingers tore into your skin as he emptied himself inside. His cock throbbed, pulsating with each powerful stroke, leaving you quivering and sated. the white liquid dribbles down whatever’s left of your outfit, eventually getting soaked up in the fabric.

“I’ll have to buy you a new pair, won’t I ?”

“Not if you’re just gonna fuck em up again.”

Tinytag list (open, comment if you wanna be added) : @foxinnie8 @panjakes @sydnerss @sunnyyangie

[x-blue-spring-x]

Omg i dreamt that a random being came to me at night when I was in bed and started fooling around with my body. I kept my eyes closed because I was scared, but he was pretty good at it so I got horny and into it.

He started fucking me slowly but deep, with a long, smooth not too thick cock, and it was goooood. I started groping his body, because duh, and it kept changing between forms- from a super buff guy to something less human and more gelatinous??

Then he switched from my pussy to my ass, and to help the transition, some kind of soft and wet protrusion was rubbing my clit a lot like a tongue would, then he stayed in his buff form to fuck me like that. Omg it was amazing. He also asked me to look at him. Since he was staying in his muscley man mood, i looked and wasn’t quite sure what i was looking at, other than a buff dusty dark purple skinned monster. Whatever counted as a mouth came down and latched to my right nipple, sending me into overwhelming pleasure that i was simultaneously trying to escape and have more of.

I only wish i was able to stay in the dream longer to come. Alas, I woke up before that could happen. In any case, i kinda like to think thats how fucking a gentle sukuna would be like, except sukuna would have a thick monster cock obviously, and probably two of them.

Oh i just remembered! I was begging the monster to change his form to have two cocks! Imagine that, a cock for each hole, sukunas tummy tongue to play with your clit and grind on, and him trying to suck your soul out of your tit.

For some reason i felt like i had to share this with you.

I am so glad you shared this with me my bby! My first JJK ask I could cry!!

Here’s some very gentle Sukuna for you ❤️

He doesn’t come to you often, the king of curses, yet most nights you find yourself waiting for him.

Not a soul knows about your strange guest. Every shared breath is trapped between you and him in a silent lovers promise. The people in your village would be frightened, and admittedly you thought it was a sign of an impending apocalypse when you first saw him, stood at the end of your sleeping pad. Impossibly tall, four arms muscle bound and ringed with the blackest ink, his red eyes had gazed at you through the velvet darkness, seeking and searching for something unknown.

He smelt of death wrapped in a smile, cinders and ashes against the heaviest amber. Intoxicating, it made your head swim, all thoughts muddied and confused like the banks of a river after heavy rains. Perhaps that was part of his strange charm, the heady drunkenness you feel in his presence, enough arrogance to drown in and a wide mouth that curls across pointed, sharp teeth.

Still, the power he holds over you, over the lands your people farm daily, is enough to encourage you to spread your thighs for him. To give the monster softness, somewhere gentle to rest for a few hours before he disappears into the mists again. You would be lying if you said it was just that through. He’s insatiable, hungry and brimming with furious need, but beyond that there’s a curious softness displayed only to you and no other. For you are chosen, special above all humans. Marked in a way that leaves no room for argument.

Dreamlike, the low moon paints everything in a blue cast, cool and dappled through the thin walls of your room. The nights are drawing in, a chill settling over the forests and mountains surrounding the small place you know as home. Your breath is steady, a little tug of the sheets to cover your shoulder. Then you hear it, the creak of the wood under his heavy feet, a scent of smoke clinging to the midnight air.

Sitting up, you’re confronted by the full breadth of him, chest rising and falling rapidly with the promise of what’s to come. He tilts his head, cat like. Those duplicate crimson eyes blinking lazily at you, dark lashes fanned under them.

Quietly you shrink from under the soft cotton, inviting him closer without needing to speak. His nose twitches as he inhales, a smile curving across his broad mouth until his sharp teeth snare his bottom lip.

“So eager. Did you miss me?” Voice a low rumble, thunder purring beneath the surface of it, Sukuna regards you. There’s something burning in his face, a hunger that he’s never able to satisfy when it comes to you, so pliant and weak in his wide palms and under the bite of his canines.

Your response is a nod, shy and timid as it’s been months since you last welcomed him into your bed. The jet coloured markings across his body seem to grow darker, framing a jawline cut like glass. He lets out a low purr, padding towards your mattress while his stare narrows, taking in the flesh ripe for him, your body the only altar that’s ever seen a being like Sukuna sink to his knees. Your mouth meets his, hot and heavy, never the gentle soft kisses you expect from a moonlit visitor. His tongue flicks against yours almost at once, so greedy, wholly devoid of propriety or valour.

Sukuna pins your body beneath his vast one, lower arms making short work of your night clothes as he dominates your lips, sucking until they tingle and bruise under him. His upper hands find purchase in your hair, tugging your face closer still roughly, winding against your scalp until you let out a whine of protest.

When your eyes flutter open he’s watching you, both pairs zeroed in on your expression, as his broad lower palms grip the meat of your hips.

“Don’t be rough.” You whisper. It’s a strange feeling, understanding that no other could ever demand a thing from him without receiving instant death in result. He’s still holding your locks tightly, forcing your throat close to his grinning mouth. Sukuna doesn’t look angry, instead he seems faintly surprised, probably because the nature of your relationship has been mainly carnal as opposed to intellectual.

“I know no other way.”

His voice is husky, strained even. So carefully you run your own fingers across shoulders bound by ridged strength. He purrs again, this time lower and far more gentle.

You jump slightly as a droplet of saliva hits your stomach, threading its way along the skin of your navel. The mouth on his torso matches his grin, the huge tongue lolling and seeking out the hot scent of your tight cunt. Wantonly you angle your hips up to meet it, allowing it purchase on your mound until the wetness trickles lower and you whimper at the feeling.

Sukuna lets out a noise of fierce approval, rearing up to slot your pussy against his torso, watching the way his tongue immediately dives into the heat of your core, the thick muscle lathing unforgiving strokes along your seams.

“Fuck!” He exhales, lowered eyes closing briefly with ecstasy, pale pink hair bleached white in the low light. “My little human whore did miss me then.”

Always darkly possessive, Sukuna’s thick fingers bite harshly into your thighs, spreading you wide as his lower mouth traces circles on your clit. Gasping, you grip his forearms, feeling the tendons bunch and release beneath his skin. Lights start to pop under your eyes, knees shaking so violently it makes him laugh. A vicious chuckle without any shred of sympathy. Without warning his upper set of hands find your throat, tugging you upwards and into the safe embrace of his lower limbs. You moan at that, wrenched away from the pulse of his broad tongue, the spit mixing with your slick is so viscous it drenches the mat beneath you.

Sukuna lets a tsk out at your moans. Clicking his teeth as you struggle to collect yourself, so close and yet so far from the sweet release you’ve craved.

“On my cocks, or not at all.” Face to face his whirling stare glimmers, lids heavy with the need to sink inside you.

He spits onto one palm, wrapping an arm around you and probing your tight, puckered hole. Massaging and rubbing until he can slip one thick finger in and then two. Vaguely you realise he’s showing kindness in his own way, lessening the intensity of having to take one of his shafts without any preparation.

You can feel them, heavy and dripping with creamy pre-spend as they rest between your legs. Sukuna draws you up closer to him, binding your arms tight to your sides and sliding his cocks between your thighs, coating himself in wetness until a rasping groan leaves the back of his throat.

“So fucking drenched.” Briefly his tattooed forehead rests against yours, like he’s struggling to master himself. Then with no warning, he’s breaching your body, cocks probing and parting your sticky flesh until you almost feel them in your throat. It’s almost too much, you’re so full of him, his scent clinging to your skin and filling your nose like incense. You push backwards against his chest, asking for patience, for some distraction from the burning stretch of him.

“Shhh.” His mouth finds the shell of your ear, warm air making you shiver as he opens you up for himself. That vast mouth on his stomach finds your clit again and you keen, sympathetically rolling your hips as you seek the right amount of pressure to bring yourself down from the ledge of overstimulation. It doesn’t take long for you to grow bolder, digging your nails into his marked back, begging for a movement on his side that will send you tipping off the precipice of perfection.

“Beg me.” His coarse, deep voice sounds far away as he starts to meet your feeble thrusts with the power of his own hips. “Beg me to let you cum.”

“Pp-lease!” You stammer without pausing to think. “Please my lord!”

Sukuna groans into your hair, lower arms still holding you tightly while his weighty palm contracts around your throat. He’s fucking you now without holding back, sinking deep until you drench his balls, the tongue beneath his mouth moving ceaselessly.

“Milk my cocks then, remind me how a human whore does it! Now!”

The command of his voice is final, your body is well trained to it. You cum hard, shattering around him as you choke out a cry, voice box pressed hard under his fingers. He doesn’t let up in his rhythm, but you feel him throbbing inside you, both cocks pulsing as you constrict. The pain of his bite to your neck only fuels the fire, and you lose count of how long he’s been buried within your cunt and ass, filling you to the brim with his potent seed.

When morning comes, he’s gone again. Only leaving the lingering smell of charcoal on your sheets.

Maybe you dreamt it, but you’re sure you felt someone pressing sweet kisses over your collarbone in the early haze of morning. When you wake you’re tucked up tightly, like he’s made sure to protect you from the cold even in his absence. A dainty, blood red flower sits on your pillow, leaves vibrant against the snow white linen.

Perhaps not such a monster after all.

He’s a big softy.

[lovezbrownies]

Yandere! Chief of Police Relationship Headcanons!!

MINORS DNI!!

Character: Grim Ludenhart, 32, Male. 199cm/6'5 ft.

A/n: I had some free time so i whipped this up :3 I'm sorry I yapped and waffled on this one this is so long and descriptive for no reason and no amount of editing will stop this ;;

Content Warning: Obsession, Possessive behaviour, Mentions of violence, Murder, Clingy and needy behaviour, jealousy, unwanted flirting (not from Grim), a lot of impregnation talk but still gn, Grim wants to be a dad so bad, non-consensual drugging, mentions of child abuse and neglect.

Word count: 2439 Words

╰┈➤Life with Grim Ludenhart is absolutely perfect! I mean the metallic smell of blood when Grim comes back home is a bit annoying but he is Chief of Police for a reason right? You’ll just have to help him wash out the smell in the shower, you two can bond and get closer! And have some fun in bed. ;).

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╰┈➤Grim is extremely attached to you, he loves to cuddle up to you when you’re near, hug you when you’re standing, and latching onto you when you’re walking. This man is so damn clingy you sometimes forget he’s even 32 years old! Not like you’d complain, Grim’s skin was so incredibly soft and smooth it felt amazing when you placed your head on his arm, rubbing your face on whatever exposed skin he has, which usually made you extremely sleepy.

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╰┈➤Grim is a very needy man, so when you do move in with him (after he begged you for weeks) he begs you again to quit your job, he can pay for everything anyways so what do you need the job for? If you want to go out you still have the freedom to but you’re only allowed to go around the neighborhood and the nearby market. Anything outside of those two you’d just have to put up with it until the weekend where the both of you go out to wherever. Also while Grim is okay with you going out he still expects you home by the time he’s finished work, if you aren’t he will immediately declare you missing and have a whole team of people looking for you, so best be home by 7 pm dear!

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╰┈➤Not a lot of people know about you at first, Grim kept his mouth shut until he finally put a ring on your finger, he didn’t want to yap on about his beautiful partner and then have them get stolen from him no that wouldn’t do at all! Speaking of your relationship being announced, when Grim finally announced his engagement to some rando from a nasty downtown area most of the court was in shock, the man who rejected every nobleperson’s proposal is now engaged to… some bar server..? Some thought it was a practical joke, but most believed that you either lied to him, charmed him, or somehow manipulated him.

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╰┈➤Grim liked being dramatic so in result the wedding was very grand, with so many different people invited, from his “friends” to his buddies no one was excluded, and thankfully most of everyone was there to witness the union of your love to Grim. Everyone watched on as the man known to be stiff and stoic looked so relaxed and deeply in love. After the ceremony came the reception, and you two spent most of it gossiping about some of the people invited, especially the people Grim hates. You had already met Grim’s family, obviously all of them were accepting of you, especially Grim’s moms!

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╰┈➤Meeting Gen, Grim’s scary younger sister, was frightening for you, she was known for being ruthless when it comes to punishments of criminals or deserters of the military, so when you shakily introduced yourself to the big scary chief while she was all smiles and “I’m so glad Grimy has someone now! And–” She won’t stop yapping, Gen and her mama will talk your ear off about Grim, completely talking smack about him and telling you the most embarrassing tales while Grim was helping his mom cook in the kitchen. All in all a very cute and loving family, the Ludenhart mamas obviously love each other so much, seemingly never being able to keep their hands off each other, Grim and Gen’s were bickering the entire time but in a fun way, you felt happy in this arrangement, they were all so adorable and being part of their family felt like being truly loved!

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╰┈➤Back to our golden boy, Grim, he is fiercely protective, while yes he has an arm around you because he’s clingy but it’s also because he hates the thought that someone might think you’re available. Grim will never forget the time you came to the palace to pick him up as a surprise, and while you were waiting at the reception room of the palace some guard decided to take his chance and started flirting with you, in various different ways, even when you’d ignore him he kept yapping on and on! You tried your best not to give him the time of day. And thankfully you didn’t have t0 put up with the harassment any longer.

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╰┈➤Grim came up behind the lowly guard, he was angry. “Do you know who you’re talking to, boy.” Grim’s voice echoed through the room, the room was quite now, everyone looking at the scene unfolding in front of them. The guard looked back, as he realized his chief was speaking to him directly, the boy bowed and stood straight saluting to his superior officer, “Sir!” Grim scoffed, he didn’t want to do this here, no, not with all these people around him, watching him hold his anger back from absolutely ripping a new one into this fucking idiot in front of him. So Grim decided to just push the guard aside and wrap his arm around your shoulder, taking you along with him to his car, where he proceeded to lecture you about your safety.

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╰┈➤The next day the guard was nowhere to be seen, apparently being reported missing by his concerned father. A few weeks pass and the boy’s mangled, disfigured rotten body had been discovered by the search team that was conveniently too busy to search until then. If Grim could he would’ve assigned the homicide case off to the most incompetent officer, however he couldn’t meddle without being seen as suspicious, but it’s not like anyone would find out it was Grim that had fun shredding the boy to smithereens, he made sure not to leave any incriminating evidence of course!

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╰┈➤Although Grim is more of a mild soft yandere he is still brutal to his victims, he is now a serial killer, with an M.O, that being that he always left two letters on every body he has mangled. G and Y, the first letter of his name and yours. He thought it was romantic what could he say! He also likes to use this new serial killer to his advantage, always telling you to never leave the house without him because heaven knows what would happen if he wasn’t there! He has trained for years, he is built like a monster, and knows multiple ways to incapacitate a person so you don’t even need to worry about safety when he’s right there!

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╰┈➤Speaking of your home life, Grim wants to be a father so badly. He’s always wanted kids but didn’t find anyone to give him kids until he found you, a while after your wedding he asked if you wanted kids yet, and depending on your answer he will wait until you are ready or get started literally RIGHT AWAY. This man is so infatuated with you he’s gonna get hard in seconds if you show that you’re willing to have fun with him in the bedroom. Grim experiments a lot while you guys are trying, every single time he hopes one of the kinks or positions you guys tried will take.

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╰┈➤I want to expand more on the ‘potion’ I mentioned in a comic I made with Gen, this potion should always be mixed in with a drink or some food to help it get digested better, but if two people have the same genitalia they’d both consume this potion, have whatever fun they want and like normal impregnation, the person who’s getting pounded gets pregnant. When it comes to afabs a special type of dildo is needed, essentially stores all of the dom’s cum and everytime the sub cums the dildo does so too, dispensing all it collected and you might have the chance to get pregnant!

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╰┈➤Moving on, you two try as much as you can, and everytime you leave the bathroom with a negative on the pregnancy test the more dejected and hopeless Grim gets. As it turns out, Grim is infertile, he was inconsolable for days, and for the first time ever he had taken a day off work just to stay home with you and be comforted. His very dream was having kids of his own and now, what is the point of it all if he couldn’t even provide kids for you. Although it thoroughly broke Grim you can help him move on with lots of comfort and physical affection, he needs you and your affection during all of this.

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╰┈➤When Grim moves on a few weeks later he still tries, let me be honest he is still a bit in denial so when he’s cooking he’d add pregnancy supplements and all that, hoping to increase his chances of impregnating you someway. This goes on for months, it has become a routine for him, wake up, taking supplements, cook breakfast put supplements, take supplements at lunch at work and so on. This continues even after you finally convince him to adopt instead, and you’ve met multiple kids and orphanages and none of them felt like the right fit for you two. You had stopped suggesting orphanages when the constant attempts turned to failure started affecting Grim again, little did you know that fate had other plans for you two.

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╰┈➤Someone was at the door and acting quite childish, holding down on the doorbell as you and your maid raced to the door, you hurried faster as you kept hearing the aggravating sounds of the doorbell ringing. Yanking the door open you weren’t met with a bunch of annoying teenagers running away but with two little kids, no adults in sight as well. “Mama and Papa didn’t come back, and the food finished, can we have some?” The older of the two asked, looking up innocently at you, acting as if this isn’t anything out of the ordinary to ask of other people.

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╰┈➤You stood motionless, baffled by the appearance of two kids you’ve never seen before, “I- What? Where are your parents?” The older one explained, their parents had left two weeks ago, with food stocked up they told their kids that they were going to visit someone and come back the next day, and yet as the days pass into weeks and the food decreased the kids decided to go and try to find a house nearby, but that also proved difficult as they lived in a tiny cottage in the forest, the same forest behind your own home. A mansion bought in expectation of many little ones walking around, and yet it stands still with no children, yet. You and the maid were still baffled, mouths agape you took the kids in and fed them. 

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╰┈➤As you fed them some hot leftovers you finally noticed all the nasty dirt and grime that was all over them, probably from all the bushes and shrubbery they had to pass by to get here. Once they finally finished their food you picked up the younger one and told the maid to wash off the older one. You should also probably learn their names, but baby steps! You try to start a conversation with the youngest one but they stayed silent the entire time, so you thought better to leave them be. You assume the kid’s too young to bathe themselves, they looked about 5 years old and even slightly malnourished, so you took it upon yourself to draw a bubble bath and bathe the young one yourself.

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╰┈➤It’s been a few hours since the two kids have come to your home, you’re sat in the living room with your maid, Adelaide, and the two kids. The eldest, his name being Red, was seated on the floor and watching whatever cartoon was playing on the Tv while the youngest, their name being Siolis, was fast asleep next to Red, a two pillows and a big fluffy blanket around them. These two kids were so adorable and respectful, it almost made you sad knowing you’d have to let go of them when you do find their parents. 

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╰┈➤And then the sounds of a car pulling up to the house made you jump. “Ah, Grim is early, wait here Adelaide tend to the kids please.” You got up as quickly as you could, you wanted to meet Grim at the door and explain everything to him in case he gets upset. You opened the front door just as your husband grabbed at the door handle, his face twisted from surprise to pure joy at the sight of your perfect face. ”Ah, sweetheart! You missed me that much didn’t you? Oh, so did I! Come now we-” You cut him off by grabbing his cheek, softly making him meet your eyes face to face. “Grim, honey, uh, come with me to the guest room will you?” Grim smirked, ah yes his charm never fails to enchant you!

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╰┈➤As you explain what happened Grim’s face gets all serious, he tells you that although we couldn’t keep them we should take care of them until he can find the parents, he would send out a missing persons report and hopefully they’ll find their parents safe and sound. But that never happened, as it turns out the two had died in their friend’s house, the house had lit aflame due to a gas leak. You and Grim stayed up a little later than night discussing if you two should foster the kids until they found a home or give them up to the government. And at the end of it you chose neither, instead you adopted both of them! 

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╰┈➤What weirded you out was how the kids didn’t seem affected by the news at all. So when you finally asked Red why, he had told you that their parents hated the both of them, neglecting them and when Siolis was young wouldn’t even care for them at all, leaving it all onto 5 year old Red to care for them. A lot of their parents’ actions caused Siolis to go completely non-verbal, something you’re hoping would soon be resolved and they can speak to you. 

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╰┈➤And so concludes the story of your life, surrounded by an amazing adorable loving family, a husband that would risk it all for you, and a life forever perfect. You can always sleep in peace knowing Grim will be there to protect you.

⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇⋇⊶⊰❣⊱⊷⋇

[yourfatherlucifer]

MDNI - Seonghwa

afab!reader

based on when ateez snitched on seonghwa for taking too long in the shower for...reasons..

@yessa-vie @armysantiny @yourlocaljonghoe @hee0soo @minheeskitten @potatomountain

PLEASE REBLOG

"Seonghwa, please hurry! I need to use the bathroom!" Your fist kept pounding on the door, the shower running on the other side, but Seonghwa made no effort to respond.

He never came to the door, which was frustrating you.

You grabbed the door handle and gave it a twist. A surprised gasp left your lips when it opened, "fuck yeah."

When you ran in, you were immediately stopped in your tracks. The sound of Seonghwa moaning and whining, the sound of him fisting his cock filled your ears.

You slowly stepped closer to the shower, "H..Hwa?"

Shampoo bottles hit the floor and a startled Seonghwa smacked into the wall, "Ah, shit!"

"Y/N? What are you doing in here!" The shower curtain slid to the side and Seonghwa's head peeked out. His face was completely red, whether from embarrassment or from the steam, you'd never know.

You looked away from his face, to distract you from the water droplets falling down, "I needed to use the bathroom and you were taking too long.."

"Oh, um." He cleared his throat and removed his hand from his cock, hiding behind the curtain, "Since you're here, can, can you help me with something?"

You nod and approach him, "What is it, Hwa?"

He pushed open the curtain to reveal his soaking wet body, the water continuing to smack into his torso. Your eyes trailed further down, eyes widening when you saw his erected cock. Which clearly had some issues.

"I can't cum, for whatever reason, I've tried to multiple times. That's why I'm taking so long here." He reaches for your hand, "Can you help me?"

A smile spread across your face and you eagerly stripped out of your clothes. This was the perfect opportunity to get with Seonghwa, and he was practically handing it to you on a silver platter.

When you stepped into the shower with him, he pulled you to his wet chest.

The moment he took your hand and placed it around his cock, his head threw back and his mouth opened wide, "Yeah, that's it."

You watched as your hand pumped up and down his cock, the precum sliding down your fingers to your wrist and onto the shower floor.

"Come on, Hwa, you can do it, cum for me, pretty boy." You looked up into his eyes, which were rolled into the back of his head.

"Wait," he peeled away your hand, "wanna do it inside of you, if that's okay."

"Of course it is."

"Then hang on." He falls down to his knees, looking up at you, his soaked black hair slicked back and out of his face.

"What are you doing?" You asked, curiously.

"Hush."

He lifts one of your legs up and places it on top of his shoulder, "Balance yourself on the wall."

Seonghwa's tongue finds it way to your clit, latching on. Your hand flies to his hair and grips it tight, slightly pulling it as he practically made out with your cunt.

His hands squeezed your ass as his long tongue darted around the walls of your cunt.

Seonghwa pushed in a finger and curled it around after removing his tongue, “I can’t wait to stick my cock in you.”

He sets your leg back on the ground, just to wrap it around his as his waist as he stand up, “Are you ready to take it for me? Ready to help me cum?”

He pushed the tip of his cock, moaning out at how you were squeezing him, nearly ejaculating on the spot but held himself back, “Fuck, almost made me cum.” He smiled and cupped your cheek.

When he was to the hilt of his cock, his lips pressed against yours, “Gonna fuck you now, okay?”

You nod and grab onto his very thin waist to ground yourself, while his hips constantly bashed into yours with each thrust he did.

His breaths were heavy and deep, he couldn’t hold back anymore and had cum early, “Ah, shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to hold out.” His eyebrows furrowed into a pout.

“It’s okay, Seonghwa, let’s go continue in your room.”

He grinned and lifted you up to completely wrap your legs around his waist, “Then we might be going all night.”

“That sounds amazing, Hwa.”

[rayas-ryoiki-tenkai]

hate sex pt.1

tags: gojo/reader, 18+ minors dni, smut, grinding, gojo being a little shit, marked flashbacks, lampole is angry

parts: 1, 2 (unreleased)

•°. *࿐ - flashback

Also on AO3

"Oh please, like you know anything about pleasure besides your own..."

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Gojo grips the flesh under your thighs to push you higher and wider, his long, deft fingers shaping your plush skin into whatever he willed so. Fingertips curling around to your hip, his palms sinking in your skin like thumbing into kneaded dough, he squeezes like he could pull off a spongy chunk of you. Satoru exhales particularly at how your flesh gives way to his, letting him in, and how his eyes gravitate to it, so simply easy to give in yet so hard to pull away.

A handprint, like he's marking you, albeit a fleeting sight for as long as he grips you. Your soft curves to the bony back of his knuckles, worlds apart, forged into one.

God, you just had to look this good. He strokes his thumb near your inner thigh and relishes in the shiver that it prompts. Why did you have to look this good? He digs that thumb into muscle.

He's not quite sure why it frustrates him - how supple you are, how your body accommodates for the way he bends you. There's a twitch between your brows, a flickering narrow at the corner of your eyes as if you're frustrated too, but it smoothes into the shape of pleasure. He's glad you lay oblivious to his staring, dumb and drunk off the alcholol and that sweet, sweet way his hip rubs against yours.

He grinds, oh how he grinds, a stiff pressure to translate the strain in his trousers. He's slow, so achingly slow, but catches the bud of nerve endings in every glorious rut. It leaves you gasping, mouth hanging as if to chase the next shot of contact. All your reserve, the feet you dig deep into the ground with a scowl, all of it melts before him, and Gojo drinks up how weak you fall.

Weak. Even beyond comparison for the strongest sorcerer. He could pluck you apart in a breath. You surely wanted to inflict as such on him over the past few years as academic rivals. Tokyo vs Kyoto. A tale as old as time. But now you're spilling 'hmm's in the shape of 'keep going's.

It's quite amusing to spot the damp swatch collecting on your panties, how it clings to your folds in a desperate plea for attention. The fabric settles in the ridges of your pussy, an aimless veil for decency, but one of the straining barriers that kept the frosted-haired freak from digging his cock into you.

Again, your expression reads, but you don't dare give it voice. All that slips are sweet gasps when his bulge presses against your clit, and you can feel just how heavy he's gotten. How big he must be. You'd give him that at least; his ego may have some reasonable substance to it, especially if he's packing a horse for a slender frame.

Fuck, it's not enough. Your eyes shoot open, and by some unfathomable force (the alcohol), you fail to latch onto the tail end of your pride and do best to plead him with your eyes. You know well he understands, that blindfold isn't fooling you. He's towering over in that midnight uniform, almost blending into the dark corners of your kitchen floor if not for the spring of blue slits from the moonlight. The blinds cut light by his jaw and down his neck, painting a pretty pale sheen in the chiseled parts of him. Like a taunt and by God does he look hauntingly beautiful.

Your brows curl to beg again. I need more. Do something.

Gojo grunts low in his chest and immediately wishes to steal back the sound. Why should he give you the honor of hearing his moments of pleasure? If you were so hell-bent on belittling him and his notoriously selfish character to the staff, then why allow erotic, tasteful sounds fall on your ears?

Look at you, he thinks, reveling in how you hopelessly bend to his will, how your eyes glaze over in desperation, anything for him to grind a little faster. Your head falls back again with a thud and your hand frantically searches for the one pushing your thighs higher. Satoru could laugh at how your fingers shake, how pitiful you look, but he doesn't. His jaw angles sharply, hissing between clamping teeth. Where's your bite now?

Your sharp tongue, that utter look of disdain and impossible insignificance. Like he were some bratty kid who'd been screaming between the isles of a grocery store and hauling candies off their shelves in a petty feat. You, you looked at him like he wore muck and slime like an overcoat. Sitting at the bar, sipping away on a stool like it were a pedestal. How was he not supposed to be angry?

•°. *࿐

It had been a sure day, that was until Principal Gakunganji had popped a blood vessel and decided to make it everyone's problem. Of course, the culprit to the fumes steaming out of his ears was none other than Satoru Gojo, much to no one's surprise. The staff had intially planned for a night of celebratory drinks following The Goodwill Event, though the mood had cut short by the devastating hijacking of cursed spirits who were, no doubt, enemies of Gojo lined up in his shadow.

The kids were in danger. Your own second graders, thrown into the impossible task to stay alive amidst the madness. For 'the strongest sorcerer of the present day', Gojo sure took his time to shake the barrier on campus, even had the nerve to goof around when it was all over.

You were having none of it.

"Come on, lighten up," you say, the drink in your hand dangerously edging to the rim in your exclaim. Kusakabe bears you no mind beside you, aimlessly spinning his glass and its melting ice to drown out the hubble. You huff, rolling your eyes.

The bar litters with many of your collective staff, though most of their faces are pulled down in exhaustion. You feel it deeply, the sympathy, the anger, for the overworked sorcerers and staff that looked upon on a friendly night out, now fall on the face of the bar counter with a thud. Just one nice thing. You grit your teeth with replenished rage.

"Gojo this, Gojo that," he mutters. You nudge Kusakabe encouragingly.

"Exactly!" you spring back, "you'll let that lampole dampen your mood?"

Atsuya flinches slightly at how you spur it on, feed into the trash talk, and inevitably sighs as if you were voicing his relentless contempt. You'd already tried poking at Utahime a few times to spill how she felt, but much to the disappointment of your gossiping, and your worry for the welfare of your coworker, she turned it down.

"He's a hotshot with no personality. He doesn't care about the people around him. I don't know why he's allowed to teach the kids in the first place. That 'feather duster' needs his ego shot down a few notches."

You continue, despite the widening look in Atsuya's eyes, "Sure, I get it. Being born into power has its inevitable struggles, but clearly he makes up for his lack of humanity for narcissism. He's got more priviledge in one thumb than we've all seen in our entire lives, yet people bow to his holyness like he's some god. Bless her heart; Miwa admires him. She looks up to him. For what?"

"His height?" Atsuya offers, laughing at his own joke.

You shoot him a look. "Our kids need role models. Not action figures," you take a sip of your drink, "he sure looks like one too."

You've heard it from Utahime herself; Satoru cared little for the average person, maybe a tad more if they were relevant in sorcery, but still, flies on the wall. If something didn't immediately serve him, it didn't exist in his radar. Kusakabe chuckles in agreement but refrains from saying anything; it seems the many near-death incidents and handfuls of casualties racked up on his concious still. You sigh:

"Gojo exists for his own pleasure."

You knock back your drink.

"Curious about my pleasure, are you?"

The voice almost knocks the wind out of you in surprise; you have no idea how you manage to swallow down without choking. Though, what immediately follows courses your blood in cold, wet disdain - because that man could just never stop finding ways to make you hate him more.

Lo and behold, the lampole has arrived.

Sat beside you with an arm propped up to his chin, he wears that impish grin in an effortless attempt to rile you up. You huff at Gojo as if he is the cause of all things uncomfortable and turn to the bartender again, "I need another one of these." A little liquid courage is a necessity when confronting God.

"The hell are you doing here?" you spit at the feather duster, harsher than you intend it to, "you don't drink."

He has the nerve to mockingly place a hand on his chest, mouth dropped in a gasp, "am I not welcome? Ouch." The peaks of his white hair sharpen to emphasize on his need to be dramatic. You roll your eyes.

"Do you not want me here, hmm?" he teases, pulling at the corner of his lips, "aren't you happy? What's with the face?"

God, even his voice is annoying. You can't help but throw, "oh, great. 'What's with the face', huh? So, you do have the ability to see things beyond yourself?"

The twitch of skin beneath his blindfold doesn't go unnoticed. You latch onto the opening.

"Nice to know you choose to be selfish."

•°. *࿐

Selfish.

He leans over, slotting his head between your ankles, pressing your knees into your chest in hopes to snap you in two. Maybe he could squeeze you into something smaller, something that'd fit inside his palm, and maybe that would tone down the weightless whining you did about how much of a terrible person he was. There'll be more where that came from.

If he was so selfish, would he meet the demands of those wet pupils and grind into you in delicious shapes? Would he drag the length of his tented crotch up and down your slit as a trial for what he could gift you?

His height serves to crowd you where his head is higher than yours, and in the unforgiving pace and position he sets you in, you're left craning your neck to meet masked eyes. The sheer size of him shrinks you into submission. Caged to all but feel the bulk of him, all but taste the scent of him and only him.

Ankles on his shoulders, his fingers form a vice grip on your wrists, bound to fall limp at the mercy of whatever the fuck he decides to give you. Selfish, huh? So fucking selfish. Gojo's jaw clenches visibly, nose scrunching in newfound anger. He was going to be selfish alright.

Gojo slows to a pace barely passable for movement. Your eyes widen, bold and wet, your face is priceless.

What's the point of being the strongest sorcerer when you had this?!

Power, to see how you're subject to feel pleasure only if he decides so. Your hands are immobile. Your legs are locked between your bodies. All you can see is the clouded essence of him that leaks off his every breath, the aroma that fans across your face and itches your nerves for more.

Something akin to the devil's henious satisfaction spreads across Gojo's lips, a manic little number you'd never seen on him before. He was still Satoru, stupidly handsome with a wolfish smirk to match, but this tickles your skin in alarm. His blindfold wraps tight around his eyes, but for some reason you feel as if you can see dual beams of blue peering into your every move.

And the way he drags himself, honing the heaviness where you need it most, imprinting the finer veins and ridges of his cock against your clothed sex. You hear it loud and clear; feel this? You'll do good to remember it.

This bastard.

You just want him to fuck you and get over with it, but he's insistent on reminding you how much of an arsehole he is. A groan reverbrates in the back of your throat, your hips all but attempting to buck into him in the little space, and Gojo chuckles like hot honey on your skin, a burn that soothes, posioned pleasure. Of course, you'd trade up your firstborn to actually bash the prick's head in, but you bite your tongue in this losing battle. He knows what you want, and he's well aware he has the means to give it to you.

You groan louder, parts whining, parts breathy, "fuck...Gojo, you self-serving prick."

Surely there are better uses for that tongue, no?

What a sight you are, squirming for a taste more fricition all whilst spitting degradations to mask up your crumbling pride. Look at where you are, baby. Under me. You can't move unless you're moving into me. Is that not what you want, baby? You don't want me to stretch you into my shape, hmm?

"Come on, baby," Gojo painfully strains in the constraints of his uniform, "use that mouth besides calling me a prick. What is it you want?"

His teeth catch his lower lip, a playful tilt of his head lit up from the moonlight. Fuck, the way he smiles is curled in fervor and carnal want, boyishly mischievious.

Say it.

Like he could chew up the skin of your jaw and you'll grate a moan to chase the feeling of his canines in your blood.

Like he could paint your skin in patchy purples whilst you drew your scratches down his back screaming his name. Fuck, fuck, his head dips near your neck, his breath hot in your ear.

"Or I can just get myself off now and call it a night. Never stopped me before."

"God, fuck, Satoru, just-" it trembles when you push it out your throat, your voice losing its timbre, "-just fuck- fuck me already, please."

•°. *࿐

Ever since shaking hands with the administration team, everybody pounced at the opportunity to fill your ears with Gojo's impulsive catastrophes and the ripples all else felt. Typical reckless abandon, to have inherited techniques that few actually understood, you assumed he was burdened by the fated responsibilites that followed. He proved you wrong.

And with some back and forth, and a belly full of alcholol, Gojo has the audacity to step out of the bar in the middle of your pointed rants.

Your feet follow him before suddenly, it clicks; he's offended, "Oh. Oh, ho! I hit a nerve!"

Gojo, decidedly ignoring your existence, continues walking away lazily, hands deep in pockets.

"Good!" You jab at his back, in his shadow, "you should get what you deserve."

To that, he stills. The night drags beyond what the tick of alcholol gave you, and despite feeling the world sways, Gojo stands so still that it recalibrates the sky and ground. You've never known him to be quiet for longer than a handful of seconds, but now the minute drags on, and the nodule in your throat grows and wheezes.

"You hate me." He says, so low that you almost miss it.

Huffing, you scoff, "you think?"

"You hate me."

Okay. Clearly he's so in his own head that he didn't hear you the first time, or literally anytime before that.

"You don't make it easy." You shrug knowingly, "you lack basic morale, Gojo. You step over people. We're pawns of some grand scheme in your twisted little head."

"You don't know me," he turns, and you flinch realising you weren't actually talking to a wall. Usually so animated, it makes you uneasy seeing him so pulled from emotion, a prop at best.

"Do I need to?"

A pause.

"What do you want?"

The streetlamp flickers and solidifies, much like your mind registering the question to the depth Gojo intends. For what purpose did you waddle at his heels to continually jab daggers despite him being the first to walk away? What did this do for you?

Warm tones of golden night lights bathe the space between you two, catching on the tip of his nose and atop his hair, everything else sunken in the shadow. The air feels cool. He takes a step. The air is colder.

"Do you want me prove that I can care?"

Gojo takes another step, gold hazes behind him, "or..."

Why is he getting closer?

"Do you want me to tend to you?"

You struggle to suppress a sharp inhale. His intentions read clear.

It takes you a moment to recover from a stirring something in your lower abdomen, either by the compulsive drinking or the overwhelming closeness of him. Eventually, you chuckle mockingly, leaning in with half a challenge and the other half jaw tensed with the remnants of your anger, ticking off the last jab of the night:

"Oh, please. Like you know anything about pleasure besides your own..."

•°. *࿐

[narvan-jester]

Just Needing A Break

WC: 2,878

Mountain/Phantom

Tags: Sex as a form of self-harm, Bondage, Rope Bondage, Intimacy, Trans Male Character, Trans Phantom (Ghost Sweden Band), Dysphoria, Safewords, Depression, Phantom (Ghost Sweden Band) Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Recreational Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Subspace, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, only a little bit but want to be careful

Phantom just needed to relax. He just needed to relax, and talk with Mountain a bit. Unfortunately, Mountain wasnt quite fast enough, and Phantom dug himself into a deeper hole than before. Good thing Mountain knows just what to do to pull him out of it.

Or

Phantom gets caught stealing some of Mountain's weed on a bad day. Mountain ties him up to make his day better.

Read below the cut or on AO3

Okay, to be completely fair, Phantom didn't mean to.

He just wanted to talk with Mountain… maybe smoke a little bit, but mostly just unwind before the pot boiled over, so to speak. And he could feel it bubbling, under the surface, fueled by overheard comments and the face that glared at him in the mirror.

When he had knocked on the door and received no answer, he had peeked inside just in case Mountain had headphones on and couldn't hear him. When he had found the room empty, he had chosen to just make himself comfortable and wait for Mountain to come back.

And there Phantom waited, reclined on top of Mountain’s sheets, scrolling on his phone, and in such a state of mind that he was starting to grow reckless, even with the rational part of his brain telling him not to.

Phantom opened his text thread with Mountain for what must have been the thousandth time.

Waiting in your room if you want to hang and talk a bit

Unread

He sighed, clicking the screen off and setting it on his chest, looking up at the ceiling. His tail brushed idly over the sheets and his nose twitched in the air.

Either his mental state was gradually unraveling or the ever-present, lingering scent of weed was growing more alluring by the second, but something made him swing his feet off the side of the bed and stand up, pushing reason into the back seat.

Phantom didn't bother softening his steps as he passed over to the little wooden chest Mountain always kept well stocked, clicking open the latch and smiling privately to himself as he took in the contents.

As he carefully took out a bag and a bit of paper, he began to feel himself bubble with fiery emotion, licking up his legs and arms and making him feel a sick sense of joy at this selfish indulgence.

Phantom slowly went through the familiar motions of rolling himself up a joint, tail swishing languidly behind him. As he was carefully rolling up the paper, the door behind him opened, making him jump.

In any other headspace Phantom would have felt embarrassed and immediately start to apologize for the intrusion, but now he just turned and offered a wave to Mountain before turning back to his joint.

Whatever Mountain was going to do to him, he probably deserved it.

“Bug, what're you doing in my room?” Mountain asked, shucking off his boots behind him and clicking the door shut. He didn't sound angry, per say, more confused.

Phantom shrugged, voice defiant as he replied. “I wanted to talk to you but you weren't here. I texted you.”

He didn't catch Mountain’s sidelong glance directed his way with how focused he was into jamming more weed into his joint. “Sorry, my phone died like an hour ago. I was working in the greenhouse, you know you could have come get me.”

Phantom shrugged and twisted the paper at the end, pushing away from the desk and leaving the chest open and the supplies strewn haphazardly where he had left them. He daringly glanced up at Mountain as he spoke. “I got what I needed now. Thanks.”

His path towards the door was blocked near instantly by Mountain, who growled down at him. “You going to treat me like that?”

That familiar lick of angry, fiery joy shot up Phantom's spine. He had Mountain right where he wanted him, he just had to play it up a little to get what he really needed.

“And what are you going to do about it, Mountain?” Phantom shot back, venom laced with self-loathing as he feigned a step back in fear.

He let out a hiss of pain as Mountain tossed him onto the bed, joint tumbling out of his hands and onto the floor.

If he dug his claws into his thigh a little harder than necessary, it was nobody's business.

Because he deserved this.

Mountain settling over his thighs and sitting down, effectively pinning him to the sheets, managed to snap Phantom back to the moment.

“This is what you wanted, wasn't it?” Mountain growled. “Just wanted my attention. Well, you've got it. Remember the safe word?”

The promise of that safety net wasn't deserved, not to Phantom. He shook his head. “Won't need it.”

Mountain's brow furrowed, just for a moment, before smoothing back out, settling back into his role.

Phantom groaned Mountain flipped him over, pressing one large palm into his back and shoving him down hard enough to hurt. He willed himself to get wet, or else Mountain would stop, and he couldn't do that right now. Not when he needed this so badly.

Mountain dragged his claws down his spine, uncaring of whether they nicked the skin or not, ripping Phantom's shirt in two and throwing it somewhere off the bed. The pain of hot blood pooling on Phantom's back was better than being high.

“Hey, fucker, I liked that one,” Phantom spat with false venom. Frankly, he didn't give a shit about the shirt.

His comment earned him a hand fisted hard in his hair, shoving his face into the mattress. Mountain leaned close, hips pressed tight to Phantom's and hot breath ghosting his ear. “Whores don't speak,” Mountain growled, punctuating his sentence with a sharp roll of his hips before pulling back.

He deserved this.

That's what Phantom reminded himself as Mountain harshly pulled his sweats down.

He deserved this, god, of course he did, and it felt so good.

It felt so good, why the hell were his eyes watering? What the hell was wrong with him?

His legs were spread far open, enough for the stretch to hurt, and the first lap of Mountain’s hot tongue over his heat made him let out a mewl not of pleasure but of pain.

Mountain paused instantly, slowly easing Phantom's legs back together. “Phantom,” he said carefully, name poised as a question.

Phantom sniffed hard, trying in vain to will his salty tears back in his eyes, burying his face further in the sheets to hide it. “No, keep going. Please keep going, Mountain.”

The gentle caress of a hand over his ear made him jump, pulling his hands up towards his face defensively, turning away from Mountain. “No, Mountain, it's okay, I can take it!” He tried to sound genuine, but the shake in his voice betrayed him.

Mountain shifted his hand from Phantom's ear to his shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. “Why didn't you safeword, buggy?”

“No, Mountain, please,” Phantom pleaded, more tears soaking into the thick, soft quilt covering Mountain’s bed at the gentle touch. He tensed his shoulders, but didn't make any effort to move other than shifting his legs apart slightly. “I can take it Mountain, please, just make it hurt.”

“Hey, hey, buggy, calm down for me, okay? You're okay, you're not feeling too well are you? Just take some deep breaths, I'll go get you some water, okay?” Mountain soothed, still petting over Phantom's shoulder gently.

Phantom tried to listen, taking big hiccuping breaths, face still turned stubbornly away from Mountain. When their breath was beginning to slow, muscles gradually relaxing, the pressure from Mountain’s hand slipped off. Instantly Phantom had turned, claws wrapped hard around his wrist and teary eyes pinning him in place.

Mountain immediately settled back down on the bed, shushing Phantom. “It's okay, I'm not going anywhere. I was going to go grab some water, it's okay, we can wait a little longer.”

Phantom sniffled, turning his face back into the sheets and squeezing his eyes shut, little dry sobs wracking his body.

Mountain twisted awkwardly in Phantom's vice grip, fingers brushing reassuringly against his wrist as he raised his other hand up to once again rub over his back, carefully skirting around the scabbing cuts.

As soon as Phantom calmed down again, he twisted again to look at Mountain, grip relaxing on his wrist just enough to slip down to his hand. “Can you please just… take care of me? I promise I'll talk about it later, and I'll safeword if I need to, I just… you don't even have to hurt me, please Mount…”

Mountain rubbed his thumb over Phantom's knuckles. “I'm not sure if that's a good idea, buggy,” Mountain murmured. “You know I love you but I don't think that's what you need right now.”

Phantom shook his head hard, tears gathering in his eyes. “Please, Mountain, I just need to forget, just for a little bit. Just let me float, please. It doesn't even have to be sexual, I just need to be close to you,” Phantom senselessly pleaded, grip tightening around Mountain’s hand as more tears slipped down his face.

Mountain lifted his hand, wiping away the tears dripping out of Phantom's eyes. “Shh, buggy it's okay. Do you want to decide what to do or do you want me to?”

Phantom sniffled, squeezing his eyes shut. “You, please.”

Mountain pressed a gentle kiss to Phantom's forehead, before pulling back and tapping his cheek gently to make him open his eyes again.

“First, I'm going to grab a towel to clean up the cuts on your back and a glass of water from the bathroom. I'll be as quick as I can. Is that okay?” Mountain asked, voice soft.

Phantom nodded, letting his eyes fall closed and loosening his grip on Mountain’s hand, letting his own drop onto the mattress.

True to his word, Mountain was back in only a moment, pressing a warm cloth to the few scratches on Phantom's back, wiping away the blood. Phantom whimpered as he did so, tensing against the touch.

Mountain set the towel to the side before gently rolling Phantom over and hoisting him up against the pillows. Phantom's eyes tracked Mountain’s movements as he pressed a cool glass against his lips, accepting the water that dribbled down his throat.

The glass clinked as it was set on the side table, and Mountain lifted his hands to run through Phantom’s hair. “Next, how about I do a nice harness, in the soft rope for you? I won't restrict your movement unless you want me to, okay? I think the pressure and closeness will help, are you okay with that?”

With each kind word and soft touch, Phantom began to relax, tension gradually bleeding from his muscles. He nodded, eyes slipping closed again as he felt Mountain pull away.

“Mount?” He asked, voice quiet and subdued.

“Yes?” Mountain answered, setting something down on the bed near Phantom’s legs.

“Can I have… boxers on please? I just don't feel… I don't want to…” He trailed off, chest tightening as tears threatened to leak from between his shut lids.

Mountain reached up to brush over the corner of one eye, wiping away the wetness there. “Of course, bug.” He pulled away, returning soon to tug Phantom's boxers gingerly over his legs. “Is it one of those days?” He murmured.

Phantom nodded minimally, trying not to cry again, trying to let himself be taken care of.

“Are you still green for the harness?” Mountain asked, rubbing a hand over Phantom's arm. “Remember, we're going at your pace.”

Phantom took a few deep breaths, trying to will his muscles to relax. “I'm green,” his voice strained out, earning him another gentle kiss on the forehead.

Mountain's hands moved slowly as he began to wrap the rope around Phantom's chest, making knots with care and whispering gentle praise all the way. Each rope pulled comfortably against his skin was a tether keeping him carefully intact.

Mountain finished the last knot, rubbing over Phantom's shoulders once more and pressing kisses over his face. “Are you still green, bug?”

Phantom nodded, arms reaching to pull Mountain into him for a hug, to which he quickly complied. Phantom idly traced shapes into Mountain's back, eyes staring into the distance, before whispering one word into the air, throwing out a tentative request. “More?”

Mountain pulled away, forcing Phantom to meet his eyes. “Is this what you really want, or is it what you think you deserve?” Mountain asked, voice tentative.

“I want it, I promise,” Phantom reassured. “You can… you can tie up my arms and legs but I don't want to be held in place.”

Mountain nodded, smile soft. “Okay, bug. Remember, you say the word and I will cut you free.”

Phantom nodded, content warm tears starting to leak from his eyes. “Thank you,” his voice was nearly too soft to hear.

Mountain smiled, rubbing once more over Phantom’s skin before pulling away and grabbing the rope once more, shifting the shears closer to himself just in case.

“Do you want your arms in front of you or behind you?” Mountain asked, shifting onto his knees on the bed in order to be closer to Phantom.

Phantom pushed himself forwards, off the headboard, turning his back towards Mountain and folding his arms behind himself, hands gripping his elbows. Words began to slip away from him, simply oil off of water. “Quiet,” he managed to force out, tail wrapping around Mountain's waist.

“Are you losing your words?” Mountain asked, rubbing over Phantom's back before lifting the rope to them.

Phantom nodded, feeling his mind beginning to go quiet.

“Can you show me that you remember what to do when you don't have your words and want to stop?” Mountain asked, one hand lifting to gently massage his shoulder.

Phantom snapped three times in quick succession, then tapped Mountain thrice with his tail.

Mountain smiled, even though Phantom couldn't see him. “Good job. Just remember to do that, okay?”

Phantom nodded again, letting him lose himself to the sensation of the soft rope being wrapped securely around his wrists and forearms, focusing on the way Mountain looped the rope into the ties in his back, pulling his arms against his back.

Mountain finished the tie, shifting himself so he was facing Phantom, forcing his eyes to focus on his face. “Do you want me to tie your legs now or not?” Phantom didn't respond, barely acting like he had heard Mountain’s request. “Buggy, can you answer me?” Mountain pressed, bringing up a hand to press against Phantom's cheek. That seemed to clear the film in his eyes as he shifted his head just enough to count as a nod.

“Do you want me to tie your legs or not?” Mountain asked again, brushing his thumb over Phantom's cheek bone.

Phantom seemed to think for a moment, before shrugging.

“Do you want me to decide?” Mountain asked, other hand lifting to rub over the rope laced around Phantom's arms.

Phantom nodded at this, pushing his face forward to knock his horns against Mountain’s, a purr sparking to life in his chest.

Mountain returned the gesture, bending down a little to nudge their noses together affectionately.

“Okay, Phantom. I'm not going to tie your legs right now, okay, but I'm going to ask you a few yes or no questions and I want you to answer them as well as you can, okay?” Mountain asked, gently rubbing over Phantom's chest, arms, and back, pressing his thumbs in to massage every so often.

Phantom nodded, pulling away just enough that he wouldn't accidentally scrape Mountain with his horns.

“Do you want to kneel for me on the floor? It may get you more floaty for me but I don't think that pressure on your knees is what you need right now,” Mountain commented, pressing a quick kiss to Phantom's nose before pulling back once more.

Phantom paused for a few seconds, before shaking his head. Mountain noddedin acknowledgement, once again pressing a kiss to Phantom's forehead. “Okay buggy, that works for me. Do you want me to put in a record or a movie for some background noise?”

Phantom nodded, pressing forward and rubbing his horns with Mountain’s again affectionately.

“A record?” Phantom nodded once more. “Radiohead?” Another nod. Mountain rubbed his horns against Phantom's in return. “Perfect, buggy. One more question.”

Phantom purred again, pressing hard against Mountain's forehead for a moment before withdrawing once more.

“Do you want me to cuddle you?” Mountain asked, kicking up a purr of his own.

Phantom nodded enthusiastically, horns knocking with Mountain’s and making him chuckle. “Perfect, bug, I will, don't worry. Let me go put the record on and I'll be right back.”

Mountain carefully pulled away, carefully placing the needle onto the record and letting it play before returning to Phantom, climbing into bed with him.

Phantom purred more, rubbing his face against Mountain's as he gingerly adjusted them both, pulling them chest to chest and pressing kisses over his face the whole way.

Dew is the one to peek through the door in the morning, finding the two tangled up, rope haphazardly strewn on the floor over the side of the bed, an unlit joint sticking halfway from beneath the side table, room rattling with purrs. He sneaks a picture of the two in the warm morning light before quietly pulling the door shut, leaving the two in their peaceful paradise for a little longer.