#and maybe also let go of heaven and hell?!?? | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

iamthatonefangirl · 2 months ago

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So I'm curious on your take on the winter soldier causing some genuine damage by accident in the middle of sex.. like . Maybe forgetting his strength or something

I love your writing ❤️

ok I fwt anon... here's how I imagine it would go

(lmk if you'd like to choose an emoji!!)

also disclaimer: homicidal ideations (NOT towards reader I promise.) fully consensual by both parties although not explicitly stated. pre-established relationship. dark themes. read at your own discretion.

~~~

like always, he's up on his knees behind you, while your own knees are digging into the sheets. you're holding yourself up on your forearms and whining, keening into every thrust.

there's nothing more than the sounds of his hips pounding against yours, the little breaths he takes with every movement, and your endless moans as he gives it to you just the way you both like it.

he's holding your hips, moving you against him in time with his rhythm as he fucks you.

maybe you try to move, try to adjust your positioning, and as you do, his next thrust hits wrong. it's some fluke thing that makes you scream out in pain.

he's immediately taken aback, hands falling from where he's gripping you, removing all contact entirely. his eyes open wide, scanning you from head to toe, unsure of what the fuck just happened as you fall to your side. you bring a hand to your abdomen, clutching your stomach in pain, and your other hand comes to your face, biting down on your knuckle as you try to hold it together, and try like hell not to cry.

you don't know what the hell just happened. he doesn't know what the hell just happened. but something went majorly wrong and now you're cowering in pain, curled in a ball, burying your face in the pillow and hiding your tears from him.

his mind is almost blank, staring at you, hands moving even further away from you so he can't hurt you any more than he already has, apparently. he's trying to figure out what he did wrong, what's wrong with you, what he's supposed to do now??

you lay there as the cramping in your stomach begins, hissing through your teeth. he glances down to see a trail of blood dripping between your thighs.

you're the one person this isn't supposed to happen to.

the one person he doesn't want to see bleed. the one person he doesn't want to see crying in pain. the one person he doesn't want to inflict damage on.

he's not a man of words.

so in less than a second, he's up, running for whatever he can find to help you. you assume he's not coming back, and through the cramping and stinging pain, you mentally plan the way you're going to curse him out later for leaving you here like this.

he comes back, carelessly throwing a water bottle next to you as he carefully maneuvers you onto your back and brings a warm cloth between your legs.

you just lay there as he cleans up the small trickle of blood and holds the cloth in place for a few minutes.

don't bleed out. don't bleed out. please.

when it comes to his victims? he loves watching the blood pour from every orifice, from every nook and cranny as the life slowly leaves their eyes, their skin going pale and cold. it feels like heaven to him.

not you.

this is his own personal hell.

after a while, he gets up and discards the cloth in the bathroom. you're not hissing in pain anymore, recovering quickly enough. he stands in the corner of the room and debates what to do.

you watch him for a minute, holding eye contact with him as you try, and fail, to read what he's thinking.

he's thinking about leaving and never coming back, if only to keep you safe from him. from what he's capable of, from what he can't, won't do to you.

"please," you say calmly, holding out a hand to him.

he waits. thirty seconds go by. a minute.

you roll your eyes and look up to the ceiling, letting your hand fall to your side. you should've known better than to ask.

and then the weight on the bed shifts next to you, and he's wrapping himself around you, burying his head in the crook of your neck. he looks so small and vulnerable in a way you've never seen.

you thread your fingers through his hair as he breathes you in. you can hear it, his shaky inhales, as he listens to your heartbeat and feels the heat of your body against his. the signs of life he usually puts out are all still there, thank god.

he's cautious, ever so cautious to not put any weight on you below the waist. if he caused you any more pain, he'd be out the door without hesitation.

he clings to you like never before, and you hold him tightly. you know what it means. this is his version of an apology.

the closest he can get to telling you he cares.

~~~

I'm literally a sucker for this weird, fuck ass relationship they have. they're so weird I love them. send more ideas.

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bucky tag list:

@clavedelune @starfly-nicole @avengersfan25 @thewiselionessss @hextech-bros @a-book-lover-things @ruexj283 @mrsnikstan @sleepysongbirdsings @sapphirebarnes @bananababygirl10 @multiversefanfics @winchestert101 @andziabarnes @chrisevansleftnipple @daisydark @luckyhornet @maryevm @avengemepercy @mandoloriancookie @starstruck-cowgirl @doubledizzy22

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lizaintheduster · 1 month ago

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Oh my god, the idea that God keeps bringing Cas back because he thinks Dean moping around the bunker is boring is so funny. Like the first two times God brings him back, he does it right away cause he's like, "This freaky lil Angel is pretty interesting to have around. Let's throw him back into the mix." But then when he betrays Dean and dies in season 6/7, at first Chuck is just sipping Mojitos and luxuriating in the man pain, but then the man pain just. doesn't. stop. And fuck that's boring, Dean just won't stop moping.

So fuck it, let's give Cas amnesia and some weird wife, he won't have to be plot relevant anyway cause obviously he'll take on Sam's hell trauma, boom two birds, one stone. Now we can get back to the brothers brothering. Except fuck, somehow Cas has wound up going to purgatory with Dean, ugh lame. Well, let's just give Cas a few nightmares that really play into his self-loathing, that should be enough to get him to stay behind, the self-deprecating sad sack. But shit, didn't think this through, Dean's out and he's already looking pretty mopy.

No worries, just gotta push Naomi in the right direction, just a little nudge, there we go. Cas is back, but with a tasty little twist of Heaven mind control to keep him out of the narrative. Excellent. Screw it. Maybe Naomi could even get him to turn on Dean? Dean could kill him, that would be awesome. Wait, why the hell isn't Dean fighting back? Get off your knees! Cas can't kill Dean, that's lame, I'll have to think of some way to bring him back... wait, wait what? Did he just snap out of Angel programmed mind control? Oh for fuck sake, this is gonna be such a pain in the ass.

Blah blah, several more seasons of trying to keep Dean and Cas apart including having Gadreel fall near the hospital, retconing how Reapers work so one can try to take out Cas, pointing that weird pink Goo Angel in a Cas shaped direction, having it so that stolen grace is a thing that drains away, but nothing is God Damn Taking. The Angel is still up and kicking, and for some reason, Dean seems hung up on the broken little thing.

Right, time for mental warfare. If just the right digs are made at just the right times, maybe, maybe the Angels self esteem will drop low enough to... that's it. There it is. Say yes to Lucifer. Another betrayal, right, Dean? Right, Dean? Dean? Oh for crying out loud he's not even dead! Dean get over it, he said yes to Lucifer, he sucks Dean, why do you care? Ugh fine, let's say Amara's juice blasts Lucifer out of Cas, happy now? Fuck he's so boring when he's worried about what? A defective Angel?

Whatever, let's just throw some random side quests at them for a while. Surely, Dean will just lose interest eventually. Oh! Idea! Trap Dean and Sam in a government facility and then sabotage every attempt the Angel makes to save them. Again, two birds, one stone. Cas will feel useless and pathetic for failing to save Dean, and Dean will surely realise what a useless waste of celestial intent Cas is.

Okay, at this point, I should have seen this coming. Oh, thank me, Lucifer kebabed him. Light show, big burnt out wings for dramatic effect. This time, let's just wait it out. Dean can't stay single minded, drunk and hung up on Cas forever. Eventually, he'll realise he needs to step up to the plate and start parenting the Angel kid, I have some amazing Abraham and Issac stuff lined up, so we need to get moving with the bonding. Any minute now. Any minute now. Come on Dean, he's not even that strong anymore, why do you care? Jesus Christ Dean, you know your mom is also dead, right?

Screw it. Let's say Jack's powers can reach the empty. Shit does this mean I need to figure out how the empty works? I never got round to writing any of that. Okay, wow that was a choice, maybe I'll retcon the accent later... let's just focus on getting Cas back to earth, so Dean... aaaaand Dean has it wearing a fucking cowboy hat. How, out of all my universes did this glitch wind up infecting the original. Should have let the Angel just stay dead that first time, would have made my life so much easier.

Well, it's the final hour, might as well get one last hit in. Let's kill off the alternate universe people first, that should be just the right push to... perfect, yep, Dean blames death, and of course, Cas will follow. Hook line and sinker. I'll just let Death kill Cas, and then I'll have Death's weird poison thing wipe her out at the last second so Dean's still around for the end game. Oh? Oh, no way? You have got to be kidding me. This is priceless. He's actually saying it? That's the money shot right there. Wow. I need a margarita. Oh, but wait. Idea! Wouldn't it be perfect, just perfect, if Dean's childhood selective mutism were to make the briefest reappearance. Just for a second. Ahhh. You have outdone yourself, Chuck. No more revivals, Dean. I'm already bored.

#destiel #dean x castiel #supernatural #castiel #destiel fic #spn #chuck #dean winchester

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a-little-ray-of-fantasy · 1 year ago

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An analysis on how Sir Pentious' character design represents his personality and development perfectly (beware of Hazbin Hotel spoilers)

Let's get this out of the way: Sir Pentious is a snake, an animal mostly known for generally believed negative traits such as poison, deceit and betrayal. We don't know WHY he's in Hell, maybe he was a "snake oil salesman" considering he comes from the Victorian times and he's into hyping up what he does, or maybe he was into war. Thing is, he's a Sinner whose design just scream "Evil".

(BTW, a snake could also represent "fertility": looking at you, Egg Boiz!)

He always had eyes all around him not just because of a stylistic choice.

Sir Pentious always felt like he was watched, and had to watch out for any danger.

"Everyone here is too nice: obviously it must be a lie! I can sense they are planning to kill me, but when?! HOW?! I must be PREPARED!"

Sadly, he's been constantly berated by other demons, far more effective in destruction, status, cruelty and charisma. Alastor won't ever bother to remember him, Cherri always ones up him, and the Vs, the ones he admires to most, won't care less about him.

To the point that Vox sent him as a spy without the intention to save him if things were going to fail. Heck, he even openly tells him to die while calling him a failure.

So of course he's got reasons to have trust issues, or taking everything so seriously, being constantly reminded of what he can't accomplish. So he puts an air of grandure that may be very flamboyant, but is VERY frail.

But, if we have to be frank here, his biggest source of insecurities... is himself.

He has eyes on his tail (his softer, more vulnerable side, which is ironically made even MORE lieable to getting hurt because of how sensitive those organs are), and inside his hood, so he could look out better for danger when on alert mode.

Heck, even the mark on his hood kinda resembles one eye.

Problem is, when you see his hood folded, when he's at ease, neutral or sad, those are not looking at outside sources.

They're looking at him, at his back. A constant stare that happens everytime he lets his guard down and shows how vulnerable he is. A gaze that can sense all of his weakness, his struggles, his insecurities.

And it's all him.

Pentious constantly believes that his inferiority complex will fade away once he'll accomplish something grand that will make others accept him. But he is his biggest critic, his worst enemy: HE is the one who believes he's a failure, that he'll never gain approval from others.

This show takes place in Hell, but this is Sir Pentious' personal Hell: insecurity born out of self hatred. Doomed to feel everyone's gaze upon him, including his own. Believing the danger to his self esteem is from others, when it's really from him.

But then he's accepted at the Hazbin Hotel: Charlie forgives him, he bonds with Angel, Husk and Niffty who don't care a bit about what he's accomplished or not, or what he's done in the past.

He feels more comfortable in showing his vulnerable side, and no one judges him for how easy it is for him to get emotional.

Of course he's still very insecure, considering how he struggles to confess to Cherri, but notice how he stops building machines or planning to attack others as soon as he starts bonding with the others: he doesn't have a reason to destroy or attack, now that he knows he's loved.

And his final design, when he goes to Heaven, shows how much he's changed, yet stayed the same. He may have died a hero, but he's still the same awkward snake we've come to love.

Speaking of love, let's talk about that!

No more eyes on his tail, now it's just on his chest (showing he's opened his heart), his glasses are now heart shaped, and even the markings inside his hood resemble kiss marks more than anything else.

And look: the mark on his hood is now heart shaped!

Why all these hearts? Why did all the eyes disappeared from his body? Even his eyes that were looking at his back?

Simple: love. Love defeated his insecurities and self hatred. He died for love.

He died protecting his friends, his new family, his new home.

He confessed and kissed Cherri knowing full well he wouldn't have made it, and yet he went anyway.

The usually cowardly and timid Pentious actually faced a great danger with courage and determination: he acted selflessly by putting himself in harm's way, he didn't steal (naturally) and by going against Adam he did indeed "stick it to the man"!

He used his weaponry knowhow and battle experience not to conquer, but to save his loved ones.

His only thought up until his demise was: "I'll go down protecting them".

And he's been rewarded not only by becoming an angel, but also being spawned directly in front of Emily and Sera, two Seraphim, the highest rank for an angel to have, who have also been depicted as snakes of fire throughout history! Sir Pentious, the lowly demon considered a failure by everyone, actually has been noticed by the Seraphim! He's come so far!

He's now come to represent the REAL symbolism of a snake: the duality of death and rebirth, transformation and immortality (ironically a reference to the fact he's been around since 1888 without ever dying from any Extermination or blessed weapons).

And isn't so poetic that a snake, the "source of the original evil", was the first sinner to ascend to Heaven? Or that this episode was released on February 1st, or National Serpent Day?

And of course, as the Bible itself says:

"Greater love has no one than this: to lay down one’s life for one’s friends."

(John 15:13)

And knowing him, I'm confident in saying he'll keep helping his friends even in his new position, like the soft hearted noodle he's always been, but was to afraid to show it up until now.

#Vivziepop #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel Spoilers #Hazbin Spoilers #Sir Pentious #Fave Character #Comfort Character #Personal Rambles #What a wonderful lovable character he turned out to be 🥲#Character Analysis

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hoshifighting · 8 months ago

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Can you pleaseeee also write staff mingyu x idol reader🥹🥹

staff!mingyu

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, jealousy, suggestive. may be triggering because of; extreme diets, blackout, getting scolded by the choreographer, fingering, a bit of possessive talk, hair pulling, cock riding, devoted mingyu too.

staff!mingyu who you're in one of those tiny-ass dressing rooms with, the ones where you can barely move without smacking into a light fixture or tripping over cables, andhe's , towering over you, big frame almost making the room look even smaller. he’s your stylist-slash-PA-slash-damage-control-for-whatever-stupid-thing-you-say-in-interviews guy, which means he’s there to check every last detail on you, no matter how close he’s gotta get.

it’s day four of this overseas tour—barely halfway in, and you’re already feeling like you’re running on fumes. you’re dodging local food left and right, not ’cause it doesn’t look good, but ‘cause it’s either not on this wild diet they’ve shoved you on or it just doesn’t sit right with your stomach. for real, you didn’t think there’d be a point in your career where you'd be skipping meals, just ‘cause the food doesn’t fit some "ideal look" they cooked up for you.

and staff!mingyu... always there, at the exact moment when your stomach’s about to start an opera of complaints, hands full of grocery bags and this half-smile on his face, like he’s in on some inside joke only the two of you share.

“alright, sit down,” he says, like you’re gonna argue, and starts unloading enough ingredients to feed a small village. he moves around the hotel kitchenette—pots, pans, seasonings, a whole rotation of stuff he’s pulled outta his endless stash. he even managed to drag around a few of those little plastic spice bottles from home, ‘cause apparently, foreign supermarkets don’t stock paprika exactly how he wants it.

“didn’t know your resume included chef duties,” you joke, propping your chin on your hand as you watch him chop veggies with the same focus you’ve seen when he’s backstage, touching up your makeup or fixing your outfits.

he laughs easy. “oh, it doesn’t,” he says, glancing over his shoulder with a grin. “but you looked like you were about to faint this morning, so i figured i’d make an exception.”

“what, you gonna make a whole buffet?” you tease, but the moment he sets that first plate down, you’re quiet. it’s nothing fancy, but it smells like heaven—garlic, spices, veggies mixed with something hearty, real food for the first time in days.

“look, you eat this, or i swear i’m shoving it down your throat myself,” he says, crossing his arms, and even though he’s joking, there’s this serious fringe in his eyes. like, he won’t let you get away with just picking at the food.

“alright, alright.” you dig in, taking that first bite, and it’s somehow exactly what you needed—warm, filling, like someone wrapped you in a blanket from the inside out. you’re not even halfway done, and he’s already cleaning up, telling you about how he once had to do this for himself, back when he was training and could barely afford takeout, let alone proper meals.

“so, yeah, i’ve been cooking for years,” he says, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. and it hits you then, this guy, who’s supposed to be here to make sure your eyeliner doesn’t smudge, is actually going out of his way to make sure you’re not just a shell of yourself on stage.

“you know, if this whole career thing falls through, you’d make a damn good chef,” you say, and he just shakes his head, laughing.

“nah,” he says, “i think i like this job better. get to keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t faint halfway through a song.”

staff!mingyu who notices everything, who noticed how you walked into the practice room that day looking like... hell, honestly. there were bags under your eyes so dark they could’ve been bruises, and your skin was that shade of pale that came from days of no sleep, maybe a crazy diet, who knows what else. mingyu was hanging out with a bunch of the other staff in the corner, narrowly paying attention at first, but then he caught sight of you—really looked at you—and yeah, it wasn’t just fatigue. he knew what he was seeing; it was that same look he’d seen too many times in trainees and idols back in the day. the look that meant you’d been pushing way too far for way too long.

by the time you got through the first set of counts, your choreographer was already on your case, his tone sharp as knives. “again,” he snapped, crossing his arms, and you could practically hear his frustration from across the room. “you’re not even hitting the moves properly. what is this?” he scoffed, giving you that disappointed stare that always made you feel about two inches tall. “do you even want to be here right now?”

mingyu’s fists clenched a little. he’d seen you pull off that choreography a hundred times before, and he knew damn well it wasn’t that you didn’t care. it was that you literally didn’t have anything left in the tank, and this guy was still going in on you like you were some slacker.

but you didn’t argue back, didn’t defend yourself, nothing. just bowed your head, muttering, “i’m sorry,” in this tiny, defeated voice. mingyu could see the exhaustion written all over you, the way your shoulders slumped, how you couldn’t even lift your head all the way back up after bowing. you just stayed there, bent over in that apologetic pose, like maybe that was the last bit of strength you could pull together.

but then, as he watched, you didn’t straighten up at all. in fact, you didn’t move for a solid couple of seconds. and then, like you were a puppet whose strings had just been cut, you dropped. one second, you were still standing, and the next, your knees buckled, and you collapsed right there on the damn floor.

for a split second, no one reacted; it was like the room had frozen.

but then mingyu snapped out of it, his heart racing as he lunged forward. the rest of the staff started moving too, voices rising in panic, but mingyu was already at your side, leaning down and calling your name, voice barely hiding the worry.

“hey! hey, can you hear me?” he said, reaching out to gently shake your shoulder. you were breathing, but it was shallow, and your face had gone even paler than before, if that was possible. mingyu felt this pang in his chest seeing you like that. you’d been pushing so hard that your own body just gave up on you.

someone behind him was calling for water, another person was getting the choreographer to back the hell off.

jobs in general weren’t easy, he knew that. but for mingyu, there was nothing worse than watching idols, the people he was supposed to support and protect, get wrecked like this—shoving themselves into diets, swallowing the criticism like it was part of the gig, sacrificing sleep and health just to fit into a pair of jeans or to mold into some industry standard that kept shifting.

he’d been in this job for years, and he’d seen it all before. too many nights spent watching trainees lose more weight than was healthy, idols pushing themselves until they’d practically faded away. sometimes, in the back of his mind, he wondered if it’d be worth leaving, finding a path where he didn’t have to witness it all so up close. he’d think about it on those long nights when he was running on four hours of sleep and too much coffee, wondering what the hell he was doing here when he could be somewhere else, not dealing with the cycle of pushing and breaking and then pushing even harder.

but then there was you. you, with your stubborn smile and that relentless drive he couldn’t help but admire. maybe it was that same drive that had you here, running yourself down like you’d forgotten how to stop. but mingyu had felt that pang deep in his chest at the thought of not being around you—of not being there to see you through the highs and lows, to make sure you had someone who cared about more than just your stage presence.

it was that thought, that tiny, persistent ache, that kept him rooted here every damn day. even if he had to watch you crash sometimes, even if it drained him dry just trying to keep up, he’d stay. he’d be right there, whether you knew it or not, making sure that someone in your corner would be looking out for you, whether you wanted it or needed it, or not.

staff!mingyu who’d quietly made it his side mission to keep you fed, like he’d added it to his job description without anyone even asking. it started small, maybe just a little sandwich he’d stash in his bag for you after seeing you collapse that one time. but then it became routine, almost sacred, the way he’d show up like clockwork with that lunch pack in hand, looking half like your bodyguard in his all-black staff gear, half like your own personal chef with a menu that he swore changed every time he showed up.

“mingyu, what’d you make me today?” you’d ask, bouncing into the dressing room after each performance, all amped up and practically beaming because, let’s face it, you’d come to love his little surprise meals more than you’d admit.

and mingyu, with that smug but bashful little smile, would act all nonchalant. “oh, nothing much… just a little chicken and veggie stir-fry,” he’d say, but it was always something next level—some five-star recipe he’d learned just for you. and the best part? he’d make it seem like it was nothing, just a side gig he’d taken up on the fly, when really he’d been researching recipes, planning, and even practicing to make sure it came out perfect.

he’d hand you the lunch pack like he was passing off something top secret, keeping a close eye as you took that first bite, watching for any sign you didn’t like it. but, of course, you always loved it. because mingyu wasn’t just making food—he was making damn art. you’d take a bite, eyes lighting up as you hummed in appreciation, and he’d try to hold back that grin but always failed, shoulders relaxing like he’d just won something.

“you don’t get it, mingyu,” you’d say, mouth full but smiling like a kid on christmas. “i think you’re the reason my performance’s getting better. you’re, like, my actual secret weapon.”

and he’d laugh, pretending to brush it off, but inside? he was proud. because knowing you were hitting the stage with a full belly, with energy to burn and that spark back in your eyes—that meant everything. it was his way of giving back to you, even if you never asked for it, even if you didn’t realize how much he cared.

staff!mingyu who somehow became the world’s best photographer without ever meaning to, taking these casual, almost-too-good photos of you that drove your fans insane. you’d be walking through some cobblestone street in italy or leaning out of a coffee shop in tokyo, and he’d be there, catching that perfect shot with his phone. no fancy equipment, no staged poses—just mingyu, with his natural eye for what made you shine, snapping photos that were somehow intimate and made you look like everyone’s dream. fans called them “girlfriend pics,” and if only they knew the man behind the lens.

you had to admit it—he was stealing your heart a little more with every click. at first, you brushed it off as some harmless crush, a side effect of him being so damn good at his job. but then he’d do something small, like bring you soup when you were sick, or drape his coat over your shoulders when you got cold during a late-night rehearsal, and it’d hit you all over again. mingyu, with that goofy smile, the biggest heart, and hands that somehow felt gentle and grounding as he adjusted your hair or let you lean on him during those endless backstage waiting times.

it was easy to fall for him. too easy, really. and the way he cared? the way he was there for you, always? how could you not? he had this way of making you feel seen, like no matter how chaotic things got, he was your solid ground, always steady, always there to keep you safe and keep you going.

but, of course, staff!mingyu was a catch to more than just you. you’d see the way the other staff members watched him, the way some of them giggled and whispered, eyes lingering a little too long. and mingyu, ever the nice guy, didn’t even seem to notice—or maybe he did, but he didn’t really care. he’d give his number when they asked, smile back when they flirted, just being his usual, friendly self. you’d tell yourself it didn’t bother you, but the truth was, it was like a little ache in your chest every time.

after a show one night, you and the whole team went out to celebrate, and mingyu was right there, laughing, clinking glasses with everyone, in his element. when it got late, exhaustion finally started to settle in, and you decided to call it a night. you told everyone you were heading back to the hotel, hoping he’d maybe do the same.

but mingyu didn’t. he stayed behind, still chatting and laughing with a few of the girls from the staff, and you could feel it—that twinge of jealousy, the frustration, knowing they’d probably spend the rest of the night with him, hanging on his every word, maybe more.

as you looked back one last time, watching him, it hit you like a punch in the gut. maybe to him, all this was just work—a job. you were part of that, someone he cared about, but just someone in his care. and the pang of that realization stung. maybe you weren’t so special after all.

what you were about to do wasn’t right. hell, it felt downright selfish. you sat in the bathtub, hot water swirling around you, trying to drown out the nagging voice in your head that told you to just let it go, that this was a bad idea. but you couldn’t shake it off—every thought twisted into a knot in your stomach. you felt almost sick, like you had this strange, heavy weight pressing down on your chest, something that felt more like heartbreak than anything else.

“god, what am i doing?” you muttered to yourself, scrubbing at your skin like it might wash away the confusion. you knew mingyu was just doing his job, that he was sweet and caring and everything you admired. but watching him flirt with those girls, knowing they’d likely take him away for the night, made you feel like you were going to hurl.

“ugh, this is so dumb,” you groaned, splashing water around, the sound echoing off the bathroom tiles. “why can’t i just be normal about this? it’s not like i’m his girlfriend or anything.”

but then the truth hit you again, a sharp stab of clarity amidst the chaos. you wanted to be.

after a few more minutes of spiraling, you said “fuck it,” feeling a rush of determination surge through you. you fished your phone out of your towel, thumb hovering over his name. your heart raced as you typed out the message.

“hey, mingyu. i know you’re probably busy, but i just wanted to say... i’m not feeling great. kind of sick, actually. do you think you could come by?”

you hit send, the knot in your stomach twisting tighter as you leaned back against the tub. was this too much? but then again, maybe it was time to stop hiding how you felt, to admit you needed him without a million excuses holding you back. it was either that or let him slip away for good, and you weren’t ready for that.

mingyu came in a rush, as if he’d been waiting for your text the entire time. you barely had time to wrap yourself in a towel before he was at your door, knocking frantically. “y/n! are you okay? open up!”

you opened the door, and the sight of him—hair a little messy, eyes wide with worry—made your heart race. “yeah, um, just feeling a bit under the weather,” you replied, trying to keep your voice steady, but it wavered slightly. you didn’t want to come off as dramatic or needy.

he touched your forehead and you leaned into his touch without even realizing it, closing your eyes for a brief second “you don’t have a fever at all,” he said, confsed.

you pulled back abruptly, the warmth fading as reality crashed back in. clutching your towel tight around your body, you walked over to the window, pretending to be fascinated by the view outside. the city lights twinkled in the distance.

“y/n?” mingyu called, confusion clear in his voice. “what’s going on?”

you couldn’t believe you took one of his rare moments of lounge because of being selfish. mingyu leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his brow furrowed in confusion. “y/n, you were perfectly fine just a few hours ago. what’s really going on?” he asked, the suspicion creeping into his voice.

“i told you, it’s just a little... off,” you replied, avoiding his gaze. the guilt gnawed at your insides, knowing you were lying, but the way he was looking at you made it hard to come clean.

“off?” he echoed, raising an eyebrow. “that’s the best you can come up with? you don’t just go from fine to ‘i need my staff member to check on me’ for no reason.” he took a step closer, eyes narrowing. “you’re not actually sick, are you? what’s up?”

you shifted uncomfortably, the towel clinging to you. “seriously, mingyu, it’s nothing. maybe just a little headache or something,” you said, hoping the casual tone would brush off his concern.

he let out a huff of disbelief. “a headache? so bad that you needed me to rush in here? that doesn’t add up.” he studied you, like he was piecing together a puzzle. “just tell me the truth. are you really feeling sick, or is there something else bothering you?”

“i just thought maybe you could... keep me um... company, you know? just for a bit.”

“keep you company?” he repeated, tone incredulous. “so you fake being sick just to get me in here? you could’ve just asked! you know i’m always down to hang out.”

“mingyu—” you started.

but he cut you off, his voice firm, the playful light fading from his eyes.

“why would you do that? this isn’t some joke, y/n. my job isn’t a game. it’s serious.”

you pressed your lips together at his louder tone, the shock of it stinging more than you expected. you hadn’t meant for things to escalate this badly, and as you felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes, it hit you like a ton of bricks: you never thought mingyu would raise his voice at you. it felt so out of place, so foreign, and your heart sank.

“hey, hey, i’m sorry,” he said, the anger melting away as he noticed your expression. he stepped closer, the care flooding back into his eyes.

you quickly wiped your eyes before the tears could fall, you could feel the heat rising in your cheeks. “you know what? i hate it,! you blurted out, unable to hold back any longer. “i hate when they’re all over you, mingyu! it makes me sick to my stomach!”

his brows furrowed, clearly caught off guard. “wait, what? you hate it when who’s all over me?”

“those girls! the staff!” you said, your voice rising with every word. “the way they throw themselves at you like you’re some kind of trophy. and you smile back at them, like it’s all just a joke or something. it drives me insane!”

mingyu looked stunned, blinking at you as if he were trying to process what you were saying. “y/n, are you—are you... jealous?”

“i — well— hell yeah, i’m jealous!” you shot back, frustration spilling over. “you’re so kind and caring, and they see that. they want you, and it feels like they think they can just waltz in and take you away from me. it’s infuriating!”

“but it’s just… it’s just me being friendly,” he stammered, “i’m not trying to lead anyone on. you know that, right?”

“i know, but it doesn’t change how it makes me feel,” you replied. “it’s like you’re this perfect guy, and they all want a piece of you. and here i am, just trying to keep my head above water, feeling like i have to compete for your attention.”

mingyu shook his head, a soft smile creeping onto his face despite the tension. “you don’t have to compete for anything. you’re… you’re the one who has my heart. all those girls? they’re just… coworkers.”

you pause, processing his words, and mingyu scoffs lightly, a teasing grin on his face.

“oh please, it’s true. you think i’m not bothered when i see those idols shoving their numbers on your sandwiches?”

you blink at him, completely taken aback. “wait, sandwiches? what are you talking about? i only eat the ones that you make for me.”

he interrupts you with that signature smile of his, one that always makes your heart race a little faster. “yeah, exactly. that’s ‘cause i always give those sandwiches to someone else.”

“mingyu, what the hell?”

“y/n, what the hell?” mingyu mocks, raising an eyebrow at you, a playful smirk creeping onto his face. “you seriously thought you could pull this off? lying about being sick? that’s low, even for you.”

you roll your eyes, trying to maintain some semblance of defiance. “i wasn’t lying, i just—”

“sure, sure,” he cuts you off. “and is wearing just a towel part of your grand scheme too? because if it is, you’re gonna need to step it up a bit.”

“and what if i just want you to come over… in a towel?”

“then i’ll take that as a personal invite,” he grins, his gaze flickering to your towel before meeting your eyes again. “just know, if you’re gonna pull this kind of stunt, you better be prepared for me to take advantage of the situation.”

staff!mingyu who wastes no time, pressing forward until you’re caught between his solid frame and the cold glass, as his body pins you in place.

“you really went all out for this hm?” his fingers trailing down to the knot of your towel.

staff!mingyu who tugs the fabric free, letting it drop to the floor, leaving you fully naked. his hands spreading wide over your back, fingers firm as he turns you around to face the glass. your chest presses against the cool surface making you gasp as mingyu’s hand trails up your spine, steadying you.

staff!mingyu who grips your hips, pressing you forward, and then trails his hands up over your sides, his fingers brushing along your curves until he reaches your shoulders, leaving no part of you untouched, as though he’s marking every inch of your skin as his.

staff!mingyu who leans down, one hand sneaking around to splay across your stomach, pulling you closer to him, making you feel his hard erection on you.

staff!mingyu who lets his hand slip lower, teasing over the sensitive skin of your thigh before slipping higher, his fingers skillfully finding your pussy as he watches you through the reflection, face contorting in pleasure, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“don’t look away.” he instructs, his tone a command softened by that grin of his.

staff!mingyu who keeps one hand firm on your hip, controlling your every move as he slips his fingers inside you, “all this just because you couldn’t stand seeing me with someone else, huh?” he curls the fingers, trying to pull a response form you. “admit it,” he coaxes as he presses you harder against the glass, his fingers never relenting. “tell me you wanted this—wanted me.”

staff!mingyu who doesn’t stop until he feels you melt against him, a soft, teasing chuckle escaping as he takes in your breathless state. “next time,” he murmurs, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, “just say the word. i’ll come running.”

staff!mingyu who yanks your hair, tipping your head back to meet his lips as you twist in his grip. it’s a little clumsy, the angle throwing you off, but he holds you steady, his mouth hot and insistent on yours. you’re all melting into him, trusting the way his hands keep you secure, letting him take control as his grip on you tightens.

staff!mingyu who, somehow, maneuvers you both towards the bedd, he scoops you up with ease, laying you back as he hovers over you, he presses his hands into the mattress on either side of your head, caging you in as he dips down, pressing soft, lingering kisses along your collarbone, down to your shoulder, and back up to your jaw.

staff!mingyu who takes his time, exploring every part of you with slow touches, like he’s determined to map out every reaction, to memorize every place that makes you moan.

staff!mingyu who, even in bed, is all about making sure you’re comfortable, arranging the pillows just so, adjusting the blankets if they’re too rough, whispering “is this okay?” and “tell me what you need” like he’s got all the time in the world. his hands are warm, grounding you, and he never rushes, taking the time to check in, to make sure you’re exactly where you want to be, that he’s giving you what you want, down to the smallest detail.

staff!mingyu who lets you wrap yourself around him however you want, all limbs and tangled sheets, whispering soft reassurances in your ear as his hands trace your back, making sure you feel safe. he’s patient, careful, coaxing you with soft, murmured words, taking his time until you’re both lost in it, every sensation heightened.

staff!mingyu who surprises you by pulling back, catching his breath, and suddenly flipping the roles—guiding your hands to explore him, encouraging you to take control. “i’m yours too, you know,” he murmurs, watching you with that familiar smile, the one that’s equal parts playful and sincere, as he lets you explore, giving you the chance to take the lead.

staff!mingyu who’s all breathless and desperate under you from the moment you take the lead FORREAL and ride him, his hands gripping your hips, trying to guide you even when he’s struggling to keep up. soft, wet sounds filling the room as you roll your hips in slow circles, making him whine. his head tips back, eyes fluttering shut, but you bring a hand to his cheek, making him look up at you.

“tell me,” you murmur, lips brushing just against his ear, “tell me you’re mine, mingyu. that none of these hoes matter.” he looks up, his eyes hazy but still so focused on you, like he’s trying to pour everything into that gaze.

“i’m yours—yours, only yours,” he chokes out, his voice rough and pleading, like he needs you to believe it. he’s babbling now, his grip tightening on you, thumbs pressing into your skin, anchoring himself as you move, each drag pulling another whimper from his lips. “none of them—none of them mean anything,” he gasps, desperate, brows knitted together. “just you. only want you.”

staff!mingyu who’s practically begging at this point, his hands sliding up to your waist, trying to pull you down, closer, as if he could somehow get more of you. “please.” he whispers, his eyes filled with so much want it makes your heart pound.

“you’re mine, mingyu. no one else. got it?” and the way he shudders, that choked, relieved sound he lets out, is everything. he nods frantically, hands gripping you tighter as he starts to lose control, bucking up into you.

staff!mingyu who’s wholly ruined beneath you, lost in every kiss, every whispered word, clutching onto you as if he’s scared you might sneak off, even when you’re right there, telling him over and over again—“all mine.”

#seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen headcanons #svt imagines #seventeen #seventeen smut #svt smut #mingyu smut #kim mingyu x reader #kim mingyu imagines #mingyu x reader #kim mingyu smut #mingyu x y/n #mingyu x oc #mingyu x you #kim mingyu x you #kim mingyu x y/n

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peanutheaddd · 3 months ago

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NEW PEANOR AU YYYYAAAAYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! dm DIVINE LIBERATION AU!!!!!!!!! deets below cut as always

im gonna preface by saying idk anything about the christianity lore and im not all too interested in learning it either. i was a christian for much of the early years of my life and i dont care much to go back to that era LMFAO most of this au is js using christian imagery bc the christians lwk ate so hard w their religious imagery . neon genesis evangelion type beat . anwyays moving on.

a bit obvious but i gotta start my lore dump somewhere. dm is a priest in this au and petey is a demon

petey is a fallen angel . as in he was born an angel but he was expelled from heaven

in this au there is corruption in the heaven and hell system . god is dead type beat. but not rlly . maybe dormant? maybe god has lost faith in humankind and has gone into hibernation? god cannot exist without faith smth smth Aaanyways.

that being said petey only got expelled from heaven for reasons almost entirely out of his control. he is still graces son and im thinking grace got involved in some anti heaven stuff bc yk heavens system was becoming more and more fucked up . so i reckon when they found out they executed her and as they were in the process of executing her petey tried to protect her but obvs he couldnt be he was a kid. so they executed her and expelled petey for being a traitor . this all happens when peteys like the human equivalent of 12-14 years old maturity wise

anwyays that being said lil petey is an angel. considering when petey was his age he was still an angel . i will go more into lp later

petey is sorta in denial about falling at first bc hes scared but eventually he just leans into the demon thing bc he feels helpless (parallel to canon petey) and just causes a shit ton of trouble. his causing trouble is a way of protecting himself Essentially

eventually he causes a little Too much trouble and he gets turned into a powerless imp by the higher up demons . hes doomed to stay in that form unless hes able to corrupt a priest whos been causing a lot of trouble for the demons . Guess who this priest is.

dms accident with knight still happened (probs happened as a result of one of peteys Funny Doings but not as a direct result.) and dm copes with it by seeing it as a holy act of salvation or wahtnot. like he was saved by gods blessing and by knights sacrifice. half of this is bullshit since as i said god is in a hibernation state. so it was really just All knight. but anyways

knight was a priest before this and its the only life that dms ever known so he kinda just continues with it . he is lwk a better priest than knight was (he got a lot of secondhand religious education just from being around knight so much and hes smarter than knight) so the church just lets him take knights place essentially.

dm is just more calm and collected in this au as well . he found out pretty early on that him being too energetic got knight into trouble which made him sad so he learned to control himself a bit . there was also the threat of him being taken away from knight if he acted out too much which was the worst case scenario for him so , yeah another incentive to behave himself .

anwysays a lot of petey and dms interactions initially are pretty lighthearted . book1 and 2 core. its js petey annoying the hell out of him and dm trying to ignore him LMFAOOOOO this is how petey gets the genius idea to try and summon a clone so he can be more effective in bothering dm . this is how lil petey is created LMFAAOAOOOOO

for this au peteys denial about being related to lp in any way shape or form is waaaayyy worse bc he still has a Lot of trauma from when he was in his angelic state . and he doesnt wanna associate with angels or heaven in any capacity . so even looking at lp is hard for him.

peteys still able to go into his full demon state, but only for brief periods of time . its also super physically taxing so he has to be really careful about it or else he could abruptly change back into his imp form when hes in the middle of danger

eventually petey "corrupts" dm as in dm just acts like a Human (this is also a criticism on the inhumane standards placed on people and how oftentimes humans are shamed for acting like Humans because theyre being held to some holy standard for the promise of a perfect afterlife . using christianity as a proxy for this since christianity is the shining example of doing this a lot) . im thinking its him going against an angel or holy figure to protect petey and/or lil petey

im thinking the overarching plot of this story is intimately tied to lil petey. the plot starts off with petey trying to corrupt lil petey and turn him into a demon so that he can have a little minion .

this attempt to corrupt lp continues even after petey starts to see him more as his son because then hes like well if im a demon then my son should also be a demon . hes also starting to get scsred of what heaven might do if they find out about him . bc as far as peteys aware once heaven gets wind of lil peteys existence theyd either execute him for being an anomoly or just take him away to raise him in heaven since hes an angel. both scenarios are likely (knowing heaven) and its also literlaly the worst thing that could possibly happen. so he slike okay if i just turn lp into a demon then theres no reason for heaven to take him away .

((semi unrelated but this is a parallel to canon to me. this is js my personal headcanon but i think peteys so obsessed eith having lil petey turn out evil in the earlier parts of the series because for him acting evil was a self defense tactic. its a way to protect himself. so by having lil petey act evil hes essentially teaching him how to protect himself in the only way he knows how . when he was rejected by the world and left all alone he was able to stay alive by being a criminal. and past the nonchalant "u have to be evil just because" facade i truly do think it was . again petey subconsciously teaching lp to protect himself in the way that protected HIM from the world. so yeah ))

i think petey probs doesnt tell dm about any of this because dm is a priest . petey fully believes that if dm finds out about lil petey being his son and thus being technically disconnected from the heaven system he would try to alert heaven about it through some mortal means . so for a lot of the earlier parts of the plot dm thinks that lp is a little angel who just kinda comes down to earth from time to time . hes totally unaware that he and petey are related . yes they look almost the same but an angel and a demon being related is totally unprecedented . so he doesnt even consider it

petey also makes sure that lil petey keeps his mouth shut about them being related by telling him that if dm ever finds out that hes his dad then he might never see him again .

but what petey fails to realize is that dms loyalty doesnt lie with the church . it lies with knight . his loyalty is far removed from any kind of institution . so when he evtnually does find out (i reckon through some way out of peteys control) and petey basicaly begs him not to tell heaven because of systematic issues and the possibility of lp getting executed dm immediately agrees. at this point hes close enough to lp and petey by extension that hes willing to forgo his loyalty to the church which only really existed because of knight in the first place . everything he had done religion wise up until this point was bc of knight . so if hes asked to choose between what knight might have wanted vs the real tangible being that is begging him not to tell heaven then he is going to choose the real tangible being . thats his family dawg.

essentially for dm the real living thing happenign in his world is infinitely more important than the moral system that hes been taught .

plot basically then goes to heaven finding out and sending angels to try and find lp as petey and dm get up to shenanigans to hide him . i reckon hell also gets involved in it . heaven and hell are "opposites" but theyre hand in hand when it comes to their shit polarized system . and lil petey as an angel being petey the demons son goes against this system and undermines their power . so both heaven and hell arent all too happy about it .

the climax is the event where dm is "corrupted" like i mentioned above . i reckon this is the event that brings god out of hibernation . smth smth free will smth smth complete and total rejection of heaven by one of its servants for a holy purpose smth smth . you feel me ? and i reckon the angels are abt to finish them off or smth and god is like HEY. STOP THAT. 👎👎👎👎

petey does not become an angel again at the end of the plot. dm does not become an angel or a demon or anything like that . he just stays a mortal being. and he still stays loyal to religion in knights memory despite being friendly with a demon, despite defying the church for said demon. the whole point is that this polarization of identity bullshit is stupid when humanity is so diverse . theres nuance snd complexity and its literlaly impossible to categorize people into discrete identities. thats not how it works

i reckon dm doesnt stay a priest just because that would require adhering to their standards which dm does not fuck with . so he probs just goes and finds some other job while staying religious. smth smth religion is not inherently evil its only the way that its used by hateful people

holy fuck this might be one of the longest lore dumps ive ever done about an au. god bles. LMFAOOOOOOOOO

#dm divine liberation au #my art

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wendichester · 4 months ago

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please can I request Sam x reader where Sam’s like a lovesick puppy and reader is obvious even though it’s painfully obvious

also plz can I be 💌 anon? (I’m the one who requested happier hehe)

₊ ° ⊹ ♡ truly, madly, deeply,

summary. sammy is absolutely smitten for you but you're clueless

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 607

notes. thank you so much for requesting hon! you always have the best ideas ehe 😙🩷

Sam Winchester is completely, hopelessly, stupidly in love with you.

And the worst part? You have absolutely no idea.

Dean sees it. Cas definitely sees it. Hell, even random strangers you meet on hunts seem to pick up on it within five minutes of talking to him. But you? You remain blissfully oblivious, flashing that gorgeous smile of yours at Sam without realizing that every time you do, it knocks the wind right out of his lungs.

He tries to play it cool, he really does. But then you go and do something unbearably cute—like scrunching your nose when you’re trying to decipher old Latin texts, or singing off-key in the car like nobody’s listening—and suddenly, he’s a goner all over again.

“Dude,” Dean mutters one evening at a dive bar, watching Sam’s gaze track your every move as you laugh at something on your phone. “You’re making heart-eyes so hard it’s embarrassing.”

Sam tears his eyes away from you (which is a Herculean effort, honestly) and frowns at his brother. “I am not.”

Dean just raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You sigh dramatically every time she leaves the room, Sam. If this were a chick flick, you’d be the guy writing sad poetry in the rain.”

Sam glares, but before he can argue, you slide back into the booth next to him, all bright eyes and warmth, completely unaware of the conversation you just interrupted.

“Guys,” you say, holding up your phone. “Did you know baby goats scream like people? Listen to this.”

You press play on the video, and sure enough, the high-pitched shrieks of tiny goats fill the bar. You dissolve into giggles, pressing a hand against Sam’s arm as you lean closer, and just like that, his heart forgets how to function properly.

Dean looks at him like, See? You’re doomed.

And honestly? Sam kinda is.—

It gets worse when you fall asleep on him in the Impala.

You start nodding off somewhere outside of Tulsa, head lolling against the window before eventually finding its way onto his shoulder. Sam freezes. He can literally feel the warmth of your breath against his neck, your body soft and trusting as you curl into him.

Dean catches his panicked expression in the rearview mirror and smirks. “Try not to combust, Romeo.”

Sam ignores him, carefully adjusting so you’re more comfortable, letting his fingers brush lightly against your arm. You sigh in your sleep, pressing closer. He’s pretty sure this is what heaven feels like.

The problem is, Sam doesn’t know how to tell you.

He could. He should. But every time he works up the nerve, you flash him that beautiful, unsuspecting smile, and he panics. What if it ruins everything? What if you don’t feel the same?

So, he suffers in silence. Until one night, when he wakes up from a nightmare and finds you sitting beside him, worry creasing your brow.

“Hey,” you whisper, brushing his hair from his forehead. “Bad dream?”

He nods, still catching his breath. You don’t hesitate. You just shift closer, resting your head against his shoulder, the same way you always do when you want him to know you’re there.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion or the way your hand finds his without thinking, but before he can stop himself, Sam blurts out, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Silence.

His heart nearly stops.

Then, you pull back just enough to look at him, your expression unreadable. Sam braces himself for rejection, for awkwardness, for anything but the soft, breathless way you say, “You think?”

And then you kiss him, and suddenly, Sam doesn’t have to wonder anymore.

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @taurus0queenie33 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril ⋆ @whereiwakewarm ⋆ @nymphet-quenn ⋆ @bluemerakis ⋆ @titsout4jackles ⋆ @hauntedrose555 ⋆ @chevroletdean ⋆ @dulcescorderitas ⋆ @blackmarketfruitrollups ⋆ @impala67rollingthroughtown ⋆ @rulesareshadesofgrey ⋆ @nervoussystems ⋆ @daryls-luvrr ⋆ @sunnyteume ⋆ @drakelover78 ⋆ @angelblqde ⋆ @mostlymarvelgirl ⋆ @whisperingdaze ⋆ @bossyblondie ⋆ @iluvnewtie ⋆ @dyhsversion ⋆ @s0urw00lf ⋆ @mrs-pondwater19 ⋆ @myceliumsunshine ⋆ @idk6505 ⋆ @giggles1026 ⋆ @idontwannabehere7 ⋆ @bamboobooshark ⋆ @ocelotlist51 ⋆ @lelapine ⋆ @pwin098 ⋆ @lacysretribution ⋆ @i-love-gvf ⋆ @lemonswinchester ⋆ @4k1vrr ⋆ @defnot-svnshine ⋆ @szyszoszelest ⋆ @angelicalm3ss ⋆ @writtenbyhollywood ⋆ @larasalii ⋆ @yeehawgiddyup13 ⋆ @xo-zeze ⋆ @jules-pagie ⋆ @freeluigihesbae ⋆ @viarasvogue ⋆ @ladykitana90

#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam wicnhester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx #.req

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rumisgf · 1 year ago

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“ATTITUDE PROBLEM” - bakugou x reader

summary: a match made in hell heaven: a sassy man w a sassier gf. while you’re trying to be productive you end up getting annoyed with him, with how irritating he can be. but, your attitude is nothing new to him. katsuki definitely knows to- no, enjoys putting you in your place.

warnings: college!au, little to no plot, unprotected sex, degradation, dry humping, overstimulation, bakugou talks a lot, reader is black ofc, slight exhibitionism

“what’s the attitude for?”

bakugou dragged you to his dorm after you being all pouty the whole day. it’s currently the afternoon and you’re supposed to be studying, but instead he decides to deal with you. you both studying together is never a good idea, simply because you both have a smart ass mouth.

“cause you keep trynna act like i’m stupid or somethin’ and we’re doing the same thing, won’t even let me check my phone without sayin’ shit.” you nearly mumble, purposefully to show you don’t even wanna explain yourself. he rolls his eyes and you smack your lips, making a “mmcht” noise. “‘n there you go.”

he looks at you, ready to open his big mouth. instead, he looks at you for a good few seconds. he examines your little stank face, your eyes looking at him with your fresh set of lashes done, his beanie that you stole from him on your head. your brat attitude at the moment. so fucking adorable… he thinks to himself as his eyes can’t help but catch your plump lips. “maybe if ya actually got somethin’ done i’d be off yer lil ass but ‘xcuse me.”

just as you’re getting ready to retort back, he cuts you off with a kiss before you can even speak. you stare blankly at him, trying to hide how easily flustered he can make you. but he already knows.

“now can we do this shit so we’re not clueless on our next patrol?”

“who is we?”

this earned you him rolling his eyes again, before swiftly lifting you out your chair and into his lap. “fix this lil attitude you got before i fix it for you, lil bro.” he says with a stern, yet not completely serious tone. he’s messing with you right now, but if you don’t stop he’s about to, how do you say, stand on business. “lil bro is crazyyy.” you reply in a fake annoying tone. just like he likes this, you like agitating him because you know exactly where it leads. no matter if you’re still annoyed or not you’re still having fun.

“and what if i don’t fix it, the fuck? you don’t scare me.”

with that you find your lips smashed onto his, his hands fiercely gripped the side of your face while the other is gripping your waist, moving you on his lap closer to him. “watch who you talkin’ to.” he mutters into the kiss. his voice is still calm, but much lower in tone and more serious. you smirk into the kiss, hands disappearing into his hair. you go to unbutton his pants and he grabs your hand. “nah, watch out.” he instead turns his chair and places you on his bed, climbing on top of you shortly after. his lips travel to your neck, and he revels in the soft noises spilling out your mouth. you can feel him biting down on the flesh, sucking dark spots wherever he wants. you can also feel him grow harder on your crotch through the fabric of your leggings. “kats-”

he stops, and looks down at you, so vulnerable for him already. “hmm? what happened?” he makes himself seem so oblivious, even though he knows exactly what’s he’s doing to you. he becomes even more amused when you start to chase him lips and softly grind on his erection, slowly becoming so needy for him. he simply laughs, then begins to pull down your leggings. his fingers brush past your clothed wetness and the smirk on his face grows wider. “that easy? ain’t even touch ya yet and you makin’ a mess through your panties?”

“shut up..” you can’t respond properly. any smart remark has flown out your brain through your ears, he won and he knows it. “just do somethin’ about it.” and he does just that. he pulls your underwear to the side, and his thumb finds your clit. you whine at his touch, feeding his ego. “like that?” you nod frantically and he chuckles, keeping a dreadfully slow pace that has you feening for more. he looks down, seeing your slick being to drip out your sweet cunny, landing on his bedsheets. “damn..” he sounds breathless, admiring what he caused. “so wet f’ me, princess.”

his hands immediately go to unzip his pants, and he throws off his hoodie. you instinctively slide off your underwear, biting your lip as you keep eye contact with the bulge in his boxers. “yeah take that shit off f’ me.” his voice is making you hotter by the minute. you look up at him puppy eyed, and he smiles at you. “what’chu want?” he asks tauntingly, already knowing the answer. “i need you now, please.” you whine, pulling him closer

he follows that command, pulling down his boxers. his dick springs out of them and you swear your mouth actually starts watering. his hands spread your legs wide open, and he begins to push himself into your sopping entrance. “fuuuck..” you moan, feeling every inch of him go in. he wastes no time pumping into you, hand placed on your lower stomach. “you still got an attitude? huh? you wanna be a fuckin’ brat? you- ah shit- you still wanna get smart with me, slut?” he looks down at you, looking at your closed eyes. you shake your head, leaning into the pillow. he can’t help but fall weak to how wet and warm you feel on his dick as he slips in and out of you. “look at me, baby.”

his pace quickens, thrusting harder into you while looking you straight in your eyes. you moan out his name and it sends him flying inside. “yeah… yeahhh take that shit.” his hand moves to your hips, pushing you down further onto his dick. “fuck, b-baby..i- can’t..” you cry, feeling the knot in your stomach form. but, he doesn’t care one bit. you were gonna stand on how you were acting. “take this dick, be a big girl.” he says, voice much deeper the second time as he presses his hand back on your lower stomach. his begins to pant with his thrust as he feels your walls tight around him. your hand tries to hold onto his stomach in at attempt to push him back, but you can’t even get yourself to reach because he’s too much. “uh huh, such a big girl. take it f’ me like a good lil slut.”

your moans grow louder as your orgasm begins to creep up on you. “kats i’m close- fuck!” you throw your head back in pure bliss. “yeah, you gonna cum? huh baby?” he grips one of your asscheeks and squeezes it. “yess…fuck kats i’m gonna cum..” you can barely speak through your moans. “mhm, let everybody in that hallway know who my little slut is.” shivers begin to flow down your spine as you begin to do what he has said and cream all over his dick, practically screaming and crying out his name as he continues to drill into you. this sends him over the edge as he chases his own high, leaning his body onto yours. he buries his face into your neck as he pounds into you, overstimulating your soaking cunt. “shit.. ah shit- fuck baby, i’m close.” strings of curses flow out his mouth into your ear. the combination of your lewd, near pornographic moans and your warm walls fluttering around him is almost too much for him. then, he starts to let out a sharp, low moan that lingers on as his orgasm comes over him. he pulls out, letting go on your stomach and moans becoming more breathy as his seed spills out in heavy loads.

he immediately shifts up off you, grabbing multiple tissues out the box he has on his nightstand. you’re still fucked out, breathing heavy and eyes barely open so all you can do is lay there as he wipes you off. after both of you are cleaned off with your underwear back on he plops over next to you, then pulls you on top of him. you both take a second to catch your breath, then he locks eyes with you. one hand finds your ass, softly massaging the skin while the other cups your cheek. “you’re a real brat, y’know that?” you look back at him for a second, then smile lazily at him “i know.” he smacks his lips and you giggle into his chest, purposefully unconsciously shifting on his lap. “stop playin’ before fuck the shit out of you again.”

spoiler alert, he did. about three more times actually.

#bakugou katsuki #i’ve had this draft for months #bakugou x black reader #bakugou headcanons #bakugou smut #bakugou katsuki x black reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki smut #katsuki x reader #mha #mha smut

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enviedear · 3 months ago

Text

ON MY WAY TO HEAVEN, TOOK A DETOUR TO MY VICES

｡𖦹° M.GRAYSON

🎧ྀི it was meant to be an easy mission, something mundane—but the second you and mark wake up feverish and desolate, you put those hopes of ease to bed. something's in your bloodstream, festering, begging to be let out—soothed. the worst of it all—whatever the hell’s in your system has infested itself in mark as well. and you’re not sure how long he can bear it.

wc 3.8k | minors dni, 18+ CW | S3X POLLEN FIC so, dark content (i'd say. they're close pre-fic but not this close), main!mark also, college!mark, college!reader & superhero!reader, cursing, ominous villian, they're drugged, pain from battle, body discomfort, characters horny under duress, fevers (is that a warning), mentions of yakking, plot—what plot? smut: piv, unsteady consent (see; s3x pollen), hints of voyuerism.

the ground beneath you doesn’t feel real. just jagged rock and cold dirt, and your heat-slick skin pressed to it like it’ll help. it doesn’t. nothing seems to. you're not sure you even remember when the effects started, but you're sure you've prayed to every god within the span for it all to stop.

you groan, roll onto your side, and blink up at the burnt orange sky. your fingers shake as they press the comm at your ear. nothing. just static. the sound of your own ragged breathing, like it’s echoing from somewhere deep inside your chest.

across from you is—mark—INVINCIBLE. suit torn, chest rising and falling like he ran the globe and back. he shoots a look at you—eyes blown wide. his stare hold recognition first, then confusion, and then something else. something hazy, almost delirious. until he bends forward, on his hands and knees, coughing hard.

his shoulders twitch, wings of tension mar his back. he spits onto the ground, breath steaming in the cooler air—there's too much heat pouring out of him.

you breathe out his name, a weak, inquisitive tone. he flinches like it hurts.

"think i—" he tries, then swallows the rest. “it hit us. during the fight. whatever it was.”

you nod. you don’t say anything. you already know.

because your body feels wrong.

burning. wriggling. like every nerve is two seconds from misfiring. like if you moved the wrong way—against how your body is craving—you’d tear something open from the inside.

you sit up almost impossibly slow, every muscle screaming. mark collapses back onto the dirt beside you, blinking fast. skin flushed. chest heaving.

you don’t meet his eyes. you can’t, instead, you clear your throat, trying to hide some of the discomfort you're feeling. if mark's already far gone, one of you has to keep a clear(er) head.

for a split second, you can hear cecil reprimanding you for getting caught in this situation—whatever it is.

"maybe it’s some kind of toxin.” you mutter, trying to keep it clinical. detached. “we have a fever. we can just wait it out.”

“yeah,” he says, voice low and hoarse. “sure. just a fever.”

except it’s not—and you both know it.

the burn behind your ribs, the pressure deep in your hips, the way your pulse stutters every time you hear him shift beside you—it’s not pain. it’s something else.

something archaic and primal, something utterly abysmal.

you shift, just slightly, and your breath catches—pain threading sharply through your core. it’s not the injuries. not bruises, or sprains, or broken skin. it’s deeper. like an anatomical pressure valve being tampered with from the inside.

mark’s hands twitch where they rest in the dirt. his fingers curl into a fist. his jaw’s clenched tight, like he’s trying not to make any sound.

you follow suit—you don’t speak. the silence stretches, and stretches.

and then—mark's voice, “don’t touch me.”

the words come from somewhere not right. too low, too strained, practically rehearsed. but his words are clear. and they make your stomach drop.

you blink, “i wasn’t going to.”

his adam’s apple bobs, head nodding, “i know. i know. just—don’t.”

the two of you sit there, breathing in tandem, a vile cadence. the feeling, a ribald fever—it’s escalating. second by second. beat by beat. breath by breath.

you try your comm again, the same static greets you.

“we need to move, we can't stay here.” you say. it’s more head-strung than true plan. “get somewhere safer. a building. cave. anything but open ground."

mark shakes his head, scanning the sandy terrain, “don’t think i can fly right now.”

you look over. he’s shaking. his hands, his shoulders, his mouth. he’s not meeting your gaze anymore. his pupils are nearly black with dilation. his lips are parted, breath shallow.

you open your mouth to say something—anything—but your stomach turns. a wave of heat rolls over you so strong it knocks every bit of air from your lungs. like you’ve been anesthetized with pure fire. like your body’s burning up, molecule by molecule.

you fall back onto your elbows, gasping, "fuck—"

mark startles at the sound, eyes snapping to you. but this time…he doesn't look away.

you finally see it—not confusion, not resistance. just raw, scorching lust trying so painfully to wear the face of shame, disgrace, humilation.

his voice is practically a whimper, “hmm—it’s getting worse.”

you nod once, voice coming out unnecessarily gritty, "yeah. i know. it got me too."

and that’s when it hits you.

you weren’t meant to die in that fight. you were meant to survive it. long enough to get away—together. long enough to fall apart—together.

long enough to complete whatever sick, calculated, and meticulously planned sequence someone else set into motion. the thought has you reeling away from the dark-haired hero. your body cries out at the movement, but you force it anyway.

the barely-there logic left within you is screaming at you to get away, to not succumb to the lurid visions invading your mind, to realize that this isn't right—it's warfare of your own body, your autonomy.

you dig your own fingers into the dirt, trying to anchor yourself to something that isn’t your own body, that isn’t his breathing.

you shouldn’t look at him again. you know better. but your body doesn’t listen, and your eyes drag back to him like they have to.

and he's trembling—trembling—like he’s the one doubling over in both need and humiliation. as if this is breaking him, the unbreakable—like it is you.

and maybe he is. maybe this thing, whatever it is, doesn’t care that he’s half-alien, that he’s strong enough to break worlds. right now, he looks damn near breakable.

"we have to fight it.” you say through your teeth, but it sounds less like an order and more like a plea.

“i am fighting it!” he snaps back, but there’s no venom, only pain. he drags a shaky breath in through his nose. “i’ve been fighting it since you said my fuckin' name.”

you flinch. not because of what he said, but because of how much truth there is in it. you're both trying, both failing.

something curls inside you—tight and electric. want, not yours, not entirely. it's something layered, ancient—synthetic. something meant to reduce thinking things to base instinct.

“we must have gotten tagged,” you say out loud, trying to organize your shared chaos, trying to drag reason into your mess. “during the fight—maybe tech, some compound, i don’t know. it’s designed to keep us…compliant. distracted.”

mark breathes out a ragged chuckle, “yeah? i think it’s working.”

you don't laugh back.

because you're terrified that it is, indeed, working. that whatever you were hit with, doesn’t need to be permanent. it just needs to last long enough to make you too weak to resist. the various, "why's" all but lost on you. you just know it can't happen—you can't succumb.

“i don’t know if i can move...” mark murmurs. he’s curled inward now, knees drawn slightly to his chest, like he’s trying to keep something inside. “my body is—i don’t know how to describe it. everything’s too much. you feel that too?”

you nod, far too fast, like it’ll stop the shudder building inside you, “like it’s crawling under my skin. like i'll...lose it if anyone touches me.”

mark exhales, slow and bitter. “yep. like that.”

your tongue feels heavy in your mouth. you taste copper. maybe from biting your cheek. whatever—it tastes rancid.

you can’t stay like this. you can’t.

you scramble onto your knees, nearly retching from the sensation alone, but you stay up, teetering. “we have to get somewhere. underground. shielded. wherever this thing can’t—find us. we’re not safe out here.”

mark doesn’t respond. not at first.

then, faintly, like it’s killing him to admit, “i don’t know if i trust myself to be anywhere alone with you.”

that hurts worse than anything. not because he’s wrong. but because he’s right.

you stare at him, raw and quiet, and your voice cracks like brittle glass, “mark—it's not just you going through this. do you think i even trust myself right now?”

he lifts his head, finally. eyes still wild, but there’s clear guilt beneath it now, a thick and ugly weight pulling down the corners of his mouth. “i’m trying, okay? i’m trying so hard not to think about what this is making me want—from you. i’m trying not to want it too.”

that’s what makes it worse.

because he said it. he feels it. wants it, he does. you do too.

you can feel impulse pulling at the edges of your self-control, grinding your mind down to something basic and desperate. all of it—every broken thought, every sharp-edged craving—leads you straight to him.

your voice wobbles, barely a whisper, “what if it’s not just trying to…divert us?”

mark’s breath catches, you hear it so clearly, too clearly.

“what if it’s trying to make us…” you swallow, the word tastes sour, thick, “bond.”

you don’t need to explain. not to him. not to the guy you shared an anatomy course with last spring. not to a half-viltrumite who knows what it means when instincts override reason. he knows, same as you.

his arms twitch. he covers them over his face as if he can block the thought out of existence. “fuck. that’s—”

“inhuman,” you finish. “which makes sense. we’ve fought worse.”

“but nothing that’s…used us like this.” he shakes his head. “nothing that’s made me want to—oh, god.”

you look down at your hands at his outburst—how they tremble like they’ve got a will of their own. how they ache for something, but nothing you can give them. not without losing everything else.

you whisper, “we need help.”

mark groans, “but no one’s coming—are they?”

you glance back toward the horizon. no sign of movement. no hum of backup. no smoke flares or jets. just the buzz of static and your own ragged breath.

no. no one’s coming.

you and mark are on your own.

and whatever’s been done to you—it’s not done yet.

"maybe we just...touch? something...i'm sorry—just, please." he sounds desperate, and you know he is. equally as needy and out of it as you.

Dismissal passes across your mind, gone in a flash, "just touch?" your question comes out so soft, you wonder if he can hear you over the wind.

"yeah—here," he grabs your wrist, and for a second, you're overcome with solace. in your belly, your heart, your head—pure relief. but then the small touch becomes far too little, far too fast.

he pulls you closer, straddling him now, and you can smell him—sweat and saccharine sin. his breath fans across your neck as he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear.

“here...” he says again, and this time his voice is low, guttural, like he’s barely holding himself together. his hand slides from your wrist to your hip, his fingers digging into the soft flesh there, possessive and demanding.

you shiver, your body betraying you as heat pools low in your belly. his other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip, and you can’t stop yourself from parting your lips, letting out a shaky breath.

"this is so fucked up," you manage. you don't pull away, but you give him the most serious look you can muster, "i'm so sorry."

mark swallows, "i know, i am too. i just want to make you feel better—make us feel better."

you nod—because he's right. you believe him. it’s not a lie, not a trick, not some smooth line he’s tossing out just to get laid. it’s him. desperate, aching, more human than you’ve ever seen him.

and still, it’s wrong.

but so much of you doesn’t care. not now, not when you feel like this and he's staring at you like you're the only oasis in this desert.

his thumb trails your lip again and you don’t even flinch, don’t even blink. instead, your mouth opens for him, and that’s when something in his expression fractures. his breath stutters like a heartbeat skipping a step and he exhales your name like it’s the only word he remembers.

then he's kissing you. the contact brings a new kind of pain and pleasure—sharp and bittersweet. you gasp into his mouth, your hands finding their way to his shoulders. it hurts. everything hurts. but it also feels…so good. like coming home to something you’d never known was missing. he tastes addicting—it’s overwhelming in the best way possible.

his kisses are wet and demanding—hard enough to bruise, and you let him. god, you let him. you need him to. you can't stop yourself from moaning as he drags you in closer, fingers sinking into your hips and waist, pulling you flush against his own body.

your core throbs in time with his heartbeat as he presses against you, free hand digging hard enough into the the ground that the dirt beneath cracks. his lips move down your jaw, teeth nipping at your earlobe, "you feel—really, fuckin' good. Feels good to touch you."

you can tell by the way his words run on, he's rambling. if it weren't for the need in your own system, you'd try to pull this back—make him realize how stupid this is.

but you don't, "does it make you feel any better? am i helping?"

he groans, eyes half-lidded, "not anymore—" his head falls to the crook of your neck, nose inhaling your scent, "i need more."

he says it as such a plea—like it’s the last thing he’ll ever say. it wrecks you.

"okay..." you breathe, fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. "okay, mark."

he shudders, your name desperately falling from his lips again as he kisses at your throat, open-mouthed and hungry. like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he’s ever even wanted to taste. when he drags his teeth along your pulse, your hips jerk against him, and the answering grunt punched out of his chest feels like a prize.

your hands are tearing away at his suit before you even realize it, palms skating across much too warm skin, the heat from his body almost intolerable. his muscles jump beneath your touch as he pulls back just enough to look at you—flushed, pupils blown wide, lips kiss-swollen. he’s shaking. quivering. trying so hard to hold himself back.

"please don't hate me for this. i need you," he pants, voice breaking. "i want—i just want us to get better."

you nod again. not just because you can’t speak, but because you feel like you had given in to this the minute his skin touched yours. every pulse of your body is screaming for him, every synapse firing off his name. you drag his mouth back to his instead of answering, and he whines into the kiss, his hands slipping off your suit like he’s done it a thousand times before.

his fingers are clumsy, yes—but they're reverent. like you’re something sacred and holy. something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch.

you feel his restraint slipping, fraying at the edges the longer you’re pressed together, the more your bodies align. he’s trying so hard to be gentle, to be careful, but his hips keep rolling against yours like they have a mind of their own, like he can’t help it—like he’s fighting himself just to keep from tearing through every physical layer between you.

your head falls back, and he takes advantage, licking into the valley of your neck, hand sliding over the swell of your chest. the contact makes you whimper and arch into him, needing more, needing everything, and you feel his grip falter as he breathes against your skin.

"you don’t—fuck—you don’t know what you’re doing to me," he grits out, forehead dropping against yours. "fucking unfair really—"

"stop—stopping. you're the one being unfair." you whisper, and that’s what shatters him. your rebuttal is all it takes.

his resolve crumbles—and he’s on you like he was made for it.

his hands are everywhere, frantic and greedy, yanking at the fabric of your suit like he can’t stand the damned thing. his mouth crashes into yours again, this time with no hesitance, no restraint—just pure, crude need. his tongue explores every inch of your mouth as if he’s trying to put the taste of you to memory.

you can feel his cock pressing beneath you through his torn suit, and you roll your hips against him, needing to feel more, needing to feel him.

"fuck," he groans into your mouth, hands gripping your hips so tight it almost hurts.

you don’t even think anymore. your hands are fumbling with the yellow and blue material covering him—exposing more and more of his red-tinted flesh. he lets out this broken little laugh at your effort, a desperate sound that only makes you want him more, but then he’s helping you, masks is thrown to the side, then the vibrant colors of your suits follow—leaving both of you bare. taking in eachother—the rise and fall of his chest, his toned stomach—down, to his cock. and fuck, is he perfect—thick and hard and already leaking, tip glistening.

you wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly, just to hear him moan. he doesn’t disappoint. his head falls back, his mouth falling open as he lets out this low, guttural sound that goes straight to your core.

"holy fuuck," he breathes, his hips jerking into your hand. "you’re gonna fucking ruin me."

his words only prove to egg you on, because then you’re pushing him down into the ground, clambering onto his lap like a woman possessed.

your hands are on his chest, skimming over the hard planes of his body as you position yourself over him. he grips your hips tight as you sink down onto him, taking him inch by inch—until he’s buried to the hilt inside you.

he chokes out your name, his head lulling as you start to move. his hands are everywhere now—on your breasts, your ass, your thighs—like he can’t decide where to touch you first. but it doesn’t matter. all that matters is the way he feels inside you, the way he fills you so perfectly you swear you’ll never need anything else.

and then you’re riding him like your life depends on it—hard and fast and needy, your hands bracing yourself on his chest as you take what you need from him. and he lets you—he lets you use him like this, lets you take control, and all the while he’s watching you with this look in his eyes—like you’re eden personified.

"fuck," he groans again, his hands tightening on your hips as he thrusts up into you, wild. "you feel so fucking good. so fucking perfect."

the air’s dry and scorching around you, sun sinking low but still brutal, painting everything in a haze of gold and sweat and dust. your knees dig into the sandy dirt, scuffed and trembling from how you’ve been riding him, but neither of you let up—not when his hands clutch you like you're the only thing tethering him to earth.

“can’t—can’t stop,” he pants, voice rough and cracked from the heat and how hard he’s breathing. his pupils are blown wide, sweat sliding down his temples, dark hair sticking to his forehead. the usual softness in his expression is long gone, replaced with something animal—something ravenous. “feels like i’m gonna lose my fucking mind.”

he shifts, steadies himself with one arm on the ground, and drives up—deeper—hard enough that you cry out, your body jerking in his grip. you go limp in his grasp, falling forward into him. it's the closest you've gotten to relief yet, and your mouth is expelling every sound of pleasure it possibly can.

and god, the look on his face when he hears you. it’s ravaged, desperate, like he’s starving.

“again.” he breathes. “make that sound again. please, fuck—i’ll give you anything.”

your body responds on its own, hips rolling to meet his thrusts, dragging him deeper, tighter.

the compound is still thick in your blood, turning every brush of skin into a live wire, sending every moan into something that echoes inside your skull.

“i wanna come with you,” he moans, almost frenzied now, head tipping back again. “wanna feel you lose it around me. you’re—shit, you’re so wet, i can feel you shaking—please, just—come on, come on, please.”

he thrusts up into you again, snapping his hips. your body gives in before your mind does—tightening, clenching around him, and his whole body jerks beneath you. you're both a mess, just grasping at eachother like you're one. your vision is overcast, blurred and your ears seem to be dialed in on every sound falling out of mark's lips.

his mouth drops open. he shouts your name, follows it up with a slew of curses, praises, prayers.

he grabs your waist like he's afraid you'll vanish, grinding up into you through the wave of it, chasing your high as if it's a storm.

“that’s ittt.” he groans, burying his face against your chest as he spills into you, hips still twitching, breath ragged and rough. “that’s it, that’s it…”

he holds you like he doesn’t know where he ends and you begin, arms wrapped tight around your back, heart pounding against your ribs. both of you shaking, ruined, covered in sweat and dust and heat—but still not entirely satisfied. not really.

you pull yourself off of him slowly, wincing at the sudden absence of his warmth. the ground feels like ice beneath your skin, the coolness juxtaposed with the burning heat that radiates from the two of you.

neither of you speaks at first. you can hear him trying to steady his breath, but it’s labored, like he's still unsure whether he's waking up from a dream—or a nightmare. you sit next to him, not quite looking at him, but not able to stay away either. the weight of the air around you presses down, heavier than the sand and dust under your hands.

mark shifts beside you, the sound of his movements dragging you back to the moment. he looks at you, eyes wide and confused, but there's something else there—something darker, almost desperate.

"we can't tell anyone about this," he mutters, the words catching in his throat.

you nod, your hands shaking slightly as you pull your knees to your chest. the weight of the situation presses down on you like a vice, but his words, though simple, offer some strange sense of clarity. there’s no going back now.

"i know." you whisper, voice strained but firm.

he runs a hand through his hair, fingers raking roughly, but it’s clear he’s struggling to pull himself together. "we can’t let anyone find out what happened," he says again, this time more to himself than to you. "not yet. not until we figure out who—or what—the hell did this to us."

you meet his gaze then, and for a moment, neither of you speaks. there’s a quiet understanding in the air between you, a silent agreement forged in the mess of everything that just happened. the rawness of what you've shared is terrifying, but it’s also…something only the two of you know. and that means, somehow, it’s yours to carry.

"we'll go back." you say quietly, though the words feel like a weight in your chest. "just… we go back home. like nothing happened."

he nods, the tension easing slightly from his shoulders. "yeah. no one needs to know about this. not yet."

with a deep breath, you both stand and grab your suits. the haze feels as though it’s slowly slipping away, but in its place, doubt is bubbling. neither of you are too sure what you got yourselves into—but you know it changed everything.

writer's note .☘︎ ݁˖ this is so unlike anything i've ever written so i hope i did okay—i just had to write something for mark. he's captivated me. also i got through the entire series so fast i had to write just to quell my invincible brainrot LMAO. this fic isn’t beta’d, so if there are grammar mistakes and such i’m sorry! if you enjoyed this—reblog or comment (or both and i'll love you forever)

dedicated to @inthehystericalrealm to hoping we find our own mark variants in this life <3

🖇️ masterlist | askbox | recent works

#⤸ enviedear #mark grayson x reader #invincible x reader #mark grayson x y/n #mark grayson x you #invincible x you #invincible x y/n #invincible x fem!reader #mark grayson x fem!reader #mark grayson #invincible

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lizzyus · 5 months ago

Text

Death Doesn't Exists

ㅤ

────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 Everybody knows that when you die, your body dies. But, what's after that? Is there a heaven? Is there a god? Or it's just... nothing?

this was a personal theory, until yesterday I read a post of "Reyna" in shiftok (I love her).

˙⋆✮ Well, if you're part of shifting community or manifestion community you may know the concept "I am state / void state". If you don't know what it is, there you go:

The "I am state / Void state" Is the state where you're pure consciousness. Your body it's not you, your consciousness is. So it's basically you in pure consciousness and the state where you're god, where you can manifest anything instantly or shift instantly. The void state feels peaceful, like you're in a very calm lake, floating. You also won't feel your body, and you won't experience 3D/CR (this world) emotions. Like fear, anger, doubts, etc. Just pure calm.

What do I wanna say with this? Well...

As I said before, when you die, your body does, not YOU (your consciousness). Cause it's basically impossible for it to just disappear or die. You can access the void state when leaving your body and letting go the 3D world. So, guess what is probably happen when you die. Yes, you enter the void state.

As I explained, void state is basically you in your most pure form. And you may be asking "then how does it look?" "What's inside the void?" "What's gonna happen?" or stuff like that. I'll try to answer some of those.

˙⋆✮ . "What does it look like?"

The void state it's called void state for something, right? So it's basically a void, nothing. BUT, you can choose how would it look. Maybe stars, a galaxy, a bright or dark void, a whole planet, etc. Whatever you want. It will look exactly how you thought it would.

˙⋆✮ . "What happens next?"

You can choose what happens next. As I said before, the void state is basically your god form where you can manifest anything instantly or shift instantly. So you can manifest your void and what happens after.

If you believe in reborn, you'll reborn as someone. If you believe in heaven and think you deserve to go to heaven, then it will happen. If you believe you deserve going to hell, then a hell will be created. If you believe in shifting, you'll probably choose a whole new reality to live. It's gonna happen whatever you choose. It's limitless.

So, basically... when you die, you enter the void state.

this info made me realize that there's nothing to fear. If you mind the pain before dying, I believe you leave your body before experiencing the pain, so you avoid it. You'll watch your body outside, like you're watching a movie and then enter void.

So, there's nothing to fear. You can live the same life you once lived if you decide to, as if it's a second chance. This is why I think death it's a need, where you recognise your power, your eternity, and who you are.

There's is nothing to fear, live freely.

I've learned some of this topic from Reyna in tiktok, so all the credits to her. But I wanted to share this with my words, beliefs, and perception. Also, thanks to her for actually proofing my theory, it's not like she knew I had one, but her info cleared my mind so well.

happy shifting! <3

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#shifting #desired reality #shiftblr #i love shifting #anti shifters dni #manifestation #reality shifting #shifting advice #shifting antis dni #dr s/o #void state #void

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writing-fanics · 1 year ago

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don’t mess with the devil

final chapter: I love you

Lucifer Morning X Human!Reader

Previous parts

The king sized mattress, seemed too big even for the King of Hell. He finally found someone to fill that empty space beside him, You. But now you were gone back home in the living world. Where you belonged. He hugged the stuffed, animal bringing it close to his chest. It lets out a little squeak.

It still smelled like you. Hells, he missed you so much it hurts. Your laughter, your voice, everything. He missed your sighs, when he would kiss your neck. He missed how you would tease him, and take his hat wearing it for a bit. You were a piece of Heaven in Hell, he never wanted to lose.

He remembered when you had gotten sick. You were sneezing and coughing, and wash hot. Your cheeks were flushed, and your voice hoarse. He never left your side, and only did to bring you the essentials. Soup. You got it. Water. No problem. Tea. Here you go my love.

He was at your beck and call, and you loved that about him. He would, kiss your forehead and rub your back. He’d figure out a way to get you ice. If you really needed it he would pay one of the, I.M.P’s to get you medicine in the living world. Demon medicine could and might possibly kill you.

Even though he thought TV, scrambled the brain he had to admit. Laying in bed with you watching, some shows was quite fun. Watching Disney movies and non Disney.

Hells. Tears trickled down his cheeks he missed you. You’ve only been dating for almost a year, and he already saw a future with you. Maybe even some kids if possible.

He wanted to-

“Oomph.”

A body landed on top of him, “Hi,” his heart seemed to stop beating, and he looked up from the stuffed animal. And there you were in all your beauty, looking down at him as if you were some angel.

You smiled, tears trickling down your cheeks. Finally, after so much trial and error you managed to make a portal to Hell. Leaving behind, a goodbye letter to your mother. Letting her know you’ll be okay. While also leaving behind a Hellphone, so she could communicate with you while you were in hell.

He thought that this might be some trick, some illusion trick by that red radio freak. He reached out and placed his hand on your cheek, you leaning into his touch. “I’ve missed you,” you said, placing your hand over his. He cupped your face in his hands so quickly, you didn’t have time to react crashing his lips on yours.

You gasped, before wrapping your arms around his neck deepening the kiss. “H-How did you?” You kept cutting him off with kisses, “Book of Magic,” you smiled, kissing him again. “And a little help from the magic you gave me.” You said, between each kiss your back being pressed against the mattress.

You smiled placing our hand on his cheek, “I knew not all of it returned,” He said, and you leaned up giving him a peck on the lips.

“I love you.” You finally said, and he smiled. Kissing you passionately, a sigh escaping your lips as he kissed your neck. “I love you too,” he said, as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck.

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader

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wemalyri · 18 days ago

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ೀFALLEN FOR YOU જ⁀➴

pairing: devil!heeseung × angel!fem!reader

༘⋆ genre: smut (MDNI), angst, romance ೀ w/c: ~4k

synopsis: When the highest of Heaven and Hell find out about your secret connection, forbidden between angels and devils, you know there is no way out. Your fate is already sealed. Both of you know — when the sun goes up, you two will be burnt and erased from this world for the sin you have committed. However, instead of spending your last moments in agony of suffering, Heeseung and you choose the agony of your still existing bodies. Because this is your last night together. Ever.

warnings: they turned into human forms to fuck, crying + fucking, soft soft soft, soft!dom!heeseung, a glimpse of mean heeseung, LARGE use of petnames (angel, baby, pretty girl, my love), reader is really sensitive, praise (A LOT) and praise kink, we may assume hee has a corruption kink..., fingering, unprotected sex (they're not humans they can, you don't), a really sad ending

a/n: thanks for waiting!! that was supposed to be shorter but i got carried away....kinda inspired by the cartoon 'Angel's friends' (as a kid I was insane)

English is not my native language, sorry for any mistakes!

You two knew that falling for each other, spending nights together in the messy bed, filling the room with filthy sounds was a sin. You two knew it would have its consequences. You two knew one day they'd find out.

It was wrong from the start. From the way Heeseung's eyes lingered on you for too long — too long for someone who was on the other side, who was your enemy, who was supposed to make you turn away in disgust and frustration. From the way you never looked away when your eyes met his. From the way you were craving for his lips to touch yours one more time now.

The highest angels and devils clearly let you know — they were aware of everything. Aware of the slight touches you two shared in the beginning, of your wet dreams about each other, of the way you gave in to the temptation and committed a sin. Knowingly.

They also clearly let you know one more thing — they are merciless, and they do not give second chances. Once the line was crossed, your fate was already sealed. And you two were perfectly aware of it.

You two will be burnt out.

Why not send you in Hell, you may ask. Because even Hell doesn't forgive such sins. Even for devils it's a death sentence. And Heeseung was ready to go for it from the start. To burn himself just to feel your lips against his, your body under him, your soft skin pressed to his. You were his angel. The angel who seduced him and made him fall even harder than other devils ever had. Made him fall for you.

His breath was hot against the sweaty skin of your neck. You could see the lights on the ceiling reflected from the window dance to the devilish, sinful melody only they could hear. The door to the room was locked. Like it could save you two from your destiny.

Heeseung's hands were traveling down your body in a fever full of gentleness, trying to remember every single part. His lips were desperately rushing from the skin of your neck and collarbone back to your mouth, not able to choose what to focus on — he needed it all.

You suspended a moan, biting your lip and throwing your head back, when Heeseung's teeth bit on the sensitive spot of your neck. His hand caressed your thigh with affection.

"Always so sensitive for me, angel. No matter how much I touch you... Always so responsive," his hot breath burnt your ear in a whisper. "But don't hold back. Let me hear you."

You shakily sighed, looking at Heeseung's face, which was almost invisible in the darkness of the room.

"I can't," you took another breath, chest rising up and down, "they will hear us."

Heeseung's eyes softened. Or maybe it was hurt and realization of the situation in them. Guess, you forgot.

"Angel," he spoke in the softest tone — the one that none of the demons had ever been allowed to use, the one that not even all of the angels had in them, "they already know."

Your eyes became glassy. Right.

When the sun goes up, you will disappear.

He will disappear.

Everything will disappear.

"I'm sorry," you whispered like it was your fault, like you could fix something. Tears ran down your face, leaving only wet lonely paths.

Heeseung's eyes were glassy too. For the first time in his whole existence. They were full of hurt, pain, and something forbidden. Maybe...love?

His fingers gently brushed against your face, pulling away the strands of your hair. He neared his lips to your skin, kissing away the paths on the sides of your face left after your tears.

You felt how something wet dripped onto your cheek. Your eyes looked up at Heeseung's face. He was crying.

Heeseung was broken. His face distorted in the way you'd never seen before. He bit his lower lip, trying to hold back the tears in his eyes from spilling out more.

Your hand tapped the back of his head, encouraging him to bury his face in your neck. When he did so, you heard a broken cry that made your heart clench, your own tears running down your cheeks again.

After minutes of sniffles and sobs, you two had calmed down. It wasn't the way you wanted to spend your last moments of existence.

Your fingers were caressing his hair in a slow motion, his face pressed to your neck, the tip of his nose starting to trace lines against your skin that made you smile.

"I don't regret it," you whispered in the silence of the room. "I never did. And if I could go back in time, I would do everything the same way."

Heeseung lifted his face from your neck, a small smile playing on his lips. "Me too."

Then his lips pressed to yours. Again.

You savored the moment. The way your lips were soft and breaths hot against each other, the way Heeseung's hands traveled under your shirt, causing shivers to run down your spine.

You softly moaned, arching your back when his fingers traced a line down your spine before pressing his hand to your back just right.

"Like that, angel. Sing for me," Heeseung groaned, bending your thigh to have more access to your core, pressing his hardness to your clothed pussy. Your hips grinded against his in response. "Shh, don't rush. You'll get everything you want, baby."

Heeseung's hands lifted up your shirt, helping to take it off. Then he did the same with your pants.

"I want to see all of you," he whispered under his breath like it wasn't even meant for you — more like he was talking to himself. "I want to remember you like this — naked, sweaty, wet, underneath me. Carve it in my memory. Forever."

His mouth moved to yours with new urgency, tongue sliding inside, devouring you like he was hungry. His knee pressed to your clothed core, making you gasp, panties already wet with your arousal.

"Hee," you softly whined when Heeseung started leaving marks all over your neck, moving lower down your skin.

He was desperate. Shameless. Not the kind to be regretful about his past or present actions. His movements were speaking volumes. Even if there was a second chance, he wouldn't be able to hold back, to keep his distance from you. Even if you could turn back the time, he would commit a sin every now and then. Would fall for you again and again.

"My pretty angel," Heeseung groaned in your collarbone before pulling away to look at the work he'd done. Your skin was full of marks. His marks. "So sinful. Fallen for me."

Your chest was heaving, eyes half-lidded. You placed a hand on his arm, moving it upper to his shoulder, to the back of his head. You craved his touch, wanted to feel his presence physically, wanted to not let go of him.

"I need you," you said in a quiet voice on the edge of crying, your eyes locking on his. "I need you so much..."

His gaze softened, lips moving to leave a peck on your jaw.

"I know, angel," Heeseung whispered against your skin, your heart melting at the petname and how gently it sounded on his tongue. His lips started leaving soft kisses down your cheek and jawline, moving to your ear and neck. "I need you too. So, so much."

Heeseung nibbled on your neck, licking the pain away after. His hand moved from your thigh to your hip, fingers brushing under the hem of your panties, making you shiver.

"My angel..." he softly whispered again, his thumb brushing above your clit, not giving you what you want yet. "So sweet... just for me…” his voice was desperate, words mumbled and rushed like in a fever. “My baby…My pretty girl…My love…"

You whined at his words and gentleness in them, at the same time feeling how his finger finally brushed against your folds. Your senses were heightened, you were aroused till the point when it hurt. Maybe it was because of the way Heeseung was torturing you with his touch, maybe because of the thought that was playing in the back of your head all of this time, even at such moment — that was your last time together.

Heeseung felt how your thighs tried to clasp together, but his hips in between your legs didn't let you. His hardness only pressed to your clothed entrance with more urgency.

"You're driving me insane," Heeseung breathed out, now tracing lines against your breast with his nose like he was trying to hold back. To savor the moment. To be gentle. Trying not to ruin you.

Yet.

"Hee, please," you almost cried out, hand tangling in his hair. His fingers were slowly tracing against your folds, already letting you two to hear how wet your pussy was. “I can't wait anymore..."

Then it happened. His fingers suddenly switched from the featherlike touch, pressing harder to your folds, pulling out of you a moan. Heeseung started rubbing them against your pussy with such urgency that could make you cum from that alone. Then he slowly slipped one finger inside your entrance, your body tensing.

"Angel, relax. How are you going to take me all in if you can't even take my finger?" Heeseung asked mockingly, rubbing your thigh with a free hand.

There it was. His dark side — teasing, mocking, dominant, and so fucking hot. It was that exact devil you met for the first time in the lobby, the one you fell in love with.

You relaxed your bottom, immediately feeling how deliciously a single Heeseung's finger was sliding inside you. You breathed out in pleasure, arching your back to feel him better.

"That's it," Heeseung encouraged, a smirk playing on his lips. He was intensely watching your body from the top to the bottom with a lustful gaze like it was his favorite view, the movie that was playing just for him. "Such a good girl for me," he praised in a low voice, free hand traveling up your body, brushing your sensitive skin from your stomach to your chest. He wrapped it around your throat, making you roll your eyes. "Yeah? Like it, baby? What a sinful angel..." Heeseung slightly chuckled, sliding inside you one more finger, making you gasp.

You held onto his hand around your throat, head throwing back, mouth aping in pleasure. Your back arched, hips rapidly moved to feel his fingers deeper inside you. You needed him. So dirty, so messy, so desperately.

Heeseung parted his fingers inside your pussy, pulling out of you a moan. Then he curled them, moving them in the way he knew you'd like, his thumb starting to circle your clit.

The pressure in your bottom part was building quickly, your hips thrusting to meet Heeseung's fingers, trying to shove them deeper inside you. The room was not silent anymore. You filled it with filthy sounds — your moans and wetness between your legs that was coating Heeseung's fingers.

“I-I’m close, Hee…” you managed to whine, back arching in an unnatural way that would definitely hurt later. But there was no later. Only now.

“Yes, angel? Are you gonna come for me?” Heeseung replied in the sweetest voice, his eyes so dark and lustful intensely watching you.

You desperately nodded, feeling how the movements of his fingers became more rapid and forceful.

“Yes, baby, of course you are. Such a pretty angel. My beautiful girl…” Heeseung mumbled, leaning against your ear again. His praise only intensified your desire and the pressure in your stomach. You came hard with a loud moan, seeing stars, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Heeseung's fingers helped you to ride your orgasm, slowing down after. He pulled them out, causing you to whine, shoving them in his mouth and tasting you on his tongue.

“The kind of heaven I'm ready to die for,” Heeseung whispered, looking at your fuckuped state in bliss. Your back relaxed, falling to the mattress. The unnatural stretch was already giving away, pulsating in your lower back. Heeseung affectionately rubbed it with one hand, another one doing the same with your thigh. He leaned closer to your face to press a kiss on your forehead. “Angel?”

You hummed in response, slowly opening your eyes, damp hair pressing to your temples. Your hand shakily reached for Heeseung's face, resting on his cheek. His gaze managed to turn soft, even though you could still see lust in his eyes.

“I love you,” you whispered, brushing away a strand of his hair. Heeseung softly smiled, reaching to hold your hand and bring it to his mouth. His lips gently tickled the skin of your knuckles.

“I love you too,” he whispered, hot breath against the back of your hand. You smiled back, making him chuckle. “You can't even imagine… how crazy you made me,” Heeseung jokingly confessed, even though his words held the truth. “Can you imagine? A devil in love… and so soft.”

You chuckled, bringing his face closer to yours. “Well, I can.” Your mouth curved into a grin, Heeseung's eyes lowering to your lips.

You felt something hard pressing against your thigh, making you sigh at the realization. The rush of heat washed over you again. You brought his face even closer to yours, lips smacking against his in the affectionate peck. “Hee,” your voice was quiet but firm. Something serious and sad was in your gaze, but Heeseung couldn't quite catch it. “I want you all to myself tonight."

Heeseung's breath caught in his throat. The way you said this phrase made his stomach flip, his cock becoming even harder — if that was even possible.

"Yeah?" he asked in a hoarse voice, quite affected by your bold phrasing. His eyebrows raised, and the smirk spread all over his face. Yet, his gaze was filled with something deeper, more emotional. Something similar to adoration.

"Yeah," you whispered in reply, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs and studying the lines of your touch with your eyes, trying to remember every single part of his face — his adorable mole on the forehead, his beautiful deer eyes, his plump pink lips, his soft skin. "And I want you to have me too. All of me..."

A lonely tear escaped your eye, soaking the side of your cheek like a reminder of inevitability. Of the predicted future you two were so scared of. The one that was making you doubtful about the next morning, and sure only about the present moment.

One of your hands traveled down Heeseung's torso with a gentle touch, eyes not looking away from his. With the softness of an angel, you tugged on the waistband of his pants, pulling them off his hips. Heeseung's grip on your waist tightened, your featherlike touch clearly affecting him.

With another hand, you pulled his face closer to yours, lips finally touching each other, tongues slowly moving in a gentle dance full of love. You led the kiss and your other hand down his hips to palm his hardness through the boxers. Heeseung groaned in your lips, breaking the kiss and pressing his forehead to yours.

"Teasing is not good for an angel, baby," he breathed out, his dark eyes locking on yours. You gave him a small smile and led your hand under the waistband of his underwear.

"I guess you've spoiled me," your words pulled out of him a chuckle that immediately turned into a moan when you touched him without any fabric in between.

Your hand stroked his free cock, spreading pre-cum all over his length. Heeseung bent your leg, pressing it to you. The tip of his dick was almost touching your core. You ended up gasping at the loss of control when he gripped your hand, pulling it away from his cock and pressing your wrists above your head to the mattress.

"So you're blaming it on me, huh? For the effect I have on you, for turning you into a dirty angel?" Heeseung murmured with a wicked smirk, the tip of his cock pressing to your entrance.

You intended to roll your hips, but he held you still, his free hand pressing your bottom to the mattress.

"Say it, baby. Say it's all my effect," Heeseung's cock teasingly slided between your folds, making you shiver, pulling out of you a whine. "The way you shake and make these pretty noises, the way you're all wet now. Is it all because of me? Answer, sweetheart."

You shakily took a breath, the tension was already building inside your stomach again.

"Yes... It's all you. Because of you. For you," Heeseung groaned at your words, finally sliding inside in one motion. You two moaned from the feeling of being so close to each other, of being in the right place with the right person.

"Gosh, you're insane..." Heeseung stood still for a moment, letting you adjust to his length. Your breaths were heavy, eyes locked on each other.

When you clenched around his cock, he took it as a sign and started moving, settling a slow rhythm. His thrusts were deep, hitting the right spots inside you and pulling out of you two moans. The room was filled with the wet sounds of your hot bodies collided together.

At that exact moment, you realized it. The way Heeseung's body was hovering over you, the way he was pressing you to the bed, the way he let go of your wrist just to hold your hand even when his thrusts were not the most gentle. Everything about it was wrong, yet felt so right. You actually could tell you were loved, happy even. And nothing mattered anymore. You realized that sacrificing yourself for moments like this was your actual fate. And it brought you relief, especially in the moment when Heeseung thrusted deeper, bringing you two to the edge of pleasure.

Heeseung's body weakened, carefully lying on yours, trying not to hurt you. Your heavy breaths became the only sound in the silent room.

You reached to bring his head closer, to run fingers in his soft locks again. He obeyed, burying his face deeper in the crook of your neck, arms instinctively wrapping around you.

Your eyes looked up above you. The ceiling had already started turning light, patterns from the rising sun becoming more evident. While caressing the nape of Heeseung's neck, your hand felt something unfamiliar to the touch. Your gaze moved to his back. That was his wings. Dark and devilish, they appeared on his back, signaling of the fact he was not able to control his form anymore. Your silent tears turned your face wet again.

Heeseung lifted his head from your neck. His eyes, supposed to be dark and sinful, held the unspoken softness and intimacy. His eyebrows were frowned, face wet and slightly red from the tears.

You two snapped.

Your hands cupped his face, pulling him closer to yours. Heeseung held the back of your head, embracing you with his other hand. You sat on the bed, your own wings already making it hard to lie down.

The kiss.

Your lips pressed to each other with unhidden emotion. It wasn't lust or passion, long forgotten in the sheets of this bed. They'd disappeared, turning into a smoke that dispersed around the room. It was love. Maybe something even deeper than that.

When you pulled away, looking into Heeseung's eyes, the tears were running down your face.

"Hee," you said in panic, searching for his reaction in his eyes. He gently held you, eyes soft and — out of a sudden — calm.

"Shhh, I'm here," Heeseung whispered, caressing the sides of your face with his thumbs. But the panic that settled in your soul didn't disappear.

"I don't want you to leave..." you whispered, feeling a lump in your throat from the tears that were blurring your view.

Heeseung gave you a small smile, wiping off the wet paths from your face. "I'm not going anywhere, angel. I'm always here, with you."

The corner of your eye caught a slight smoke coming from Heeseung's wing. You rushed to wrap hands around his neck, lips pressing to all of the possible spots for a kiss on his face.

"Pleasepleaseplease," you mumbled, begging for not knowing who. The panic was hitting hard, the inability to do absolutely anything was only making it worse.

"Angel, you need to calm down," Heeseung firmly said, not loving your anxious state. "Breathe with me, okay?"

You tried to calm down, to breathe. You even managed to do it for seconds. But when Heeseung started talking to you with a dark expression on his face, your face covered in tears again.

"Angel, I want you to know. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. And I am grateful to every single moment two of us spent together. Without you, my existence would be dull, nothing different from other devils' existence. But your presence made it bright," he tried to hold back the sob, but it didn't turn out successfully.

You hurried to hold him closer again, hands caressing his back in panic, lips pressing to his temple a countless number of times. Your sobs collided together, faces wet and red from tears.

"There is one more thing I want you to remember..." Heeseung managed to start, his wing already starting to be erased. "I love you," he whispered.

Tears started to run down your cheeks even more.

"I love you too," you whispered back.

He gave you a small smile. The wings almost disappeared behind his back, which meant that he was next.

You pressed lips to his again. You weren't kissing him like it was the last time. It was your last time.

His face started slipping away from your hands, turning into a little smoke. When you weren't feeling his lips on yours anymore, you opened your eyes.

He was gone.

You silently lay on the bed, not noticing how your wings had already disappeared.

The patterns on the ceiling were the same. They were still dancing in the sunrise just like they did when Heeseung was still there. When he was holding you. When he could tell you to stop overthinking, could call you 'his angel' and wipe the tears off your face. Now he was gone, but the patterns were still there.

Your hands started feeling numb, but you weren't paying attention. The only thing you could think of was Heeseung. You could still remember his dark, warm eyes, but you were craving to be able to actually see them. They were better in real life than in your imagination.

Smoke.

The smoke started blurring the vision, hiding the familiar patterns on the ceiling from your sight. It was getting harder to think with every second like someone was sucking the energy out of you. The patterns on the ceiling disappeared from your sight at all.

It was hard until it became easy. Until you let out the last sigh. Until you turned into nothing.

This is how you were erased from this world. With the last wish in your head. You desired to meet Heeseung again. To be born and able to find him. To see his warm eyes again. To wrap hands around him. To kiss him.

It was your last wish. But did you have a right to ask for that?

No. Because everyone knows that Heaven doesn't forgive those who are fallen.

//tags: @ikeugirly

if you loved the fic, pls let me know about it! (like, comment or repost)

#enhypen #enhypen imagines #heeseung #enhypen x reader #heeseung×reader #heeseung fanfic #heeseung imagines #wemalyri writes #heeseung smut #heeseung angst #heeseung lee #heeseung fic #heeseung scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfiction

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