#and them as demons would be just so wretched

[loreandletters]

The most important fact is that Jake’s is fine. He is a-okay with being left in a haunted cemetery. All alone. In the middle of the night. He’s also pretty poor, and since fear is costly, being fine and being is his only option. 

Ghosts? Psha! Try looking at his bills, those are scary. Eyeless ghouls? Good thing it doesn’t cost much to scribble out a talisman or sprinkle some salt. Some wannabe witches trying to summon the devil? Not on his fucking watch! Those candles leave a mess, don’t they know that?

People look down on cleaning, but doesn’t anyone realize that the sanitation department runs the world? Garbage men keep the streets clean, ushers man the stores, and Jake weeds and washes graves. What better honor is there than guarding the deceased from moss and mold? No better money too.

Jake’s lamp flickers as he pulls up another weed. 

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, forcing himself not to rush, “must be funny, in a rich man’s world.”

The grave is illuminated poorly, the mossed over letters just barely spelling out ‘here lies Jasmine Helma, the sweetest wife a man could ask for.’ It’s also just barely enough to see the half-screaming ghostly face sticking out of the stone. Jake hums patiently, plucking more weeds that are growing at the foot of the grave.

80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year. Jake chants, the mantra beating religiously within his cranium. The numbers aren’t exactly accurate, but what rich man counts pennies? (he also heard somewhere that rhymes help ward off misfortune) 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

Yeah, he hasn’t been here more than six months, so what? He makes it a year, that’s a six figure salary! All for picking weeds and scrubbing stone (along with the occasional security). He doesn’t need a degree or some nepotism (both of which he doesn’t have), just a spine of steel. Honestly, he doesn’t have that either, but for 160k he does. He’ll fucking sprout wings and fly if they asked him to.

….Jake’s really poor.

Not for long though, he promised himself.

“I’ll kill you!” the ghoulish face shrieked, mouth cranked inhumanly wide, unmoving yet still speaking, “you cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

“I work all night, I work all day, to pay the bills I have to pay,” Jake sings. Ghosts like these forget they’re dead, and only repeat what the last thing they said before they died. It happens the longer they stick around. Their looks fade, their voices lose any recognizable lilt, leaving them with a dragging, wretched voice that is indistinguishable from any other ghost. 

“I’ll kill you! You cheating manwhore! I’ll kill you!”

 “Ain’t that sad?” Jake wasn’t shivering out of fear, he was just cold. Who cared if she was screaming? That wouldn't pay his rent, picking these weeds would. 

“I’ll kill you!”

“And still there never seems to be, a single penny left for me,” Jake fixed his flickering lamp, hand dipping into the bucket of soap and water to fetch the sponge.

“You cheating manwhore!”

“That’s too bad.” Jake began to scrub. He scrubbed around the headstone, around the ghost, and when he was done, everything but that one spot was sparkling clean. The night chilled his drying hands but Jake muscled on. 80 bucks an hour, 560 a night, 3,300 a week, 13,00 a month, 160,000 a year.

“Cleaning again, Jacob dear?”

“If I got me a wealthy man, I wouldn’t have to work at all,” James' voice immediately became louder, singing now ringing across the graveyard, “I’d fool around and have a ball!”

The floating annoyance chuckled, “if that’s a yes to my offer, I’m afraid you’ll have to be more clear.”

It was a month ago now that he’d chased off the amateur witches. They were ambitious kids, and like all kids, stupid. Breaking into a graveyard to play with powers beyond their control, who does that? Without Jake they likely would have died. Unfortunately, they were skilled idiots. Skilled enough to summon something, just not a demon. Jake isn’t a witch so he can’t say what exactly, only that it isn’t one of hells many soldiers. That’s why the thing calls him by a fake name. He may not know much, but he isn’t stupid enough to be giving out his real name to anyone who asks. For some reason It’s stuck in the graveyard, and because Jake’s only job is to clean the graveyard not fix the graveyard, that isn’t his problem. It’s just another thing he needs to ignore.

“Money, money, money, must be funny, in a rich man’s world!” Jake has been singing this song for the past hour, stuck on a couple verses because he doesn’t actually know the whole thing, and he’s too scared right now to think of another. He’s fine though! Don’t lose it now, Jake. Remember, 80 bucks an hour, 160,000 a year - keep your eyes on the prize!

The next grave has a ghoul hiding behind it, the monstrous thing shivering as it tries to take refuge in the shadow of the headstone. They’re relatively harmless so long as you don’t start chasing them. Just to be sure, he has a shitty talisman that he’d haggaled a priest for, though to be honest he probably shouldn’t have bothered. They tend to feed on happier victims. 

It’s their form that unnerves most people; twig like limbs, far too long for the small torso they’re connected to, with muscles all distorted and twisted. Freaks folks out. Luckily, they're more shadow than physical, so he doesn't worry about stepping on them. He begins his process again, picking weeds and trashing rubbish. Must have been the teenagers again. Don’t they have anything better to do with their time?

“Money, money, money,” Jake sings, loud as he can. The not-demon thing trails behind him. 

“Oh Jacob, I could give you money and so much more,” the being takes on a young man's form tonight, chest exposed by an open shirt, the body underneath toned, skin shining in the moonlight as It lays back in the air. Confident in the image It’s made, as if Jake will fall over at the sight alone. “All you have to do is ask.”

Thick manicured hands run across the shapeshifted body in a lustful fashion. Tonight, the face is sharp and beautiful, wet lips and curly hair, with green eyes as sparkling as gems. There’s a pout on his lips. Last shift the thing had taken on a woman, and before that a large wolf, and before that, a cripple - anything to pull his heartstrings. Friendship, romance, companionship - what will it take for Jake to say yes? There’s only one answer, of course.

Money. Money is why he’s here. Best part? This job will get him all his desires without asking him for his soul. He’ll pay off his debts, his rent, his brother's medical bills and he’ll get to be alive to enjoy it. 

So, Jake grits his teeth and bears it. The ghosts, the ghouls, the not-demon; just sings, scrubbing at a leisure pace so that maybe he can get an extra hour on his shift tonight. I mean, c’mon, it’s 80 an hour. Wouldn’t you? 

You've been hired to clean a graveyard every night for 80 bucks an hour. Its haunted. And by god you are going to make that 80 bucks an hour

[ultravi0lence14]

Butterfly

sam winchester x angel!reader

1k | fluff, fem pronouns

summary: you and sam were complete opposites of each other, and sam had no idea how a gorgeous, pure girl like you could even chose him in the first place.

sam sometimes just stared at you when you weren’t looking, wondering how he got so lucky in finding a girl like you.

you were so sweet, someone sam thought his wretched soul wasn’t worthy of. he’s got demon blood running through his veins, the vessel of lucifer himself. why would you — an angel as pure as snow — even remotely look his way.

that was the funny thing with you angels though. you guys always saw the best in people.

before you touched down from heaven, you had learned the copious stories of the winchester brothers lives. how their mother died, springing them into the hunting life. their tragic upbringing, and how their father raised them poorly. but most importantly, you learned about the youngest.

sam winchester. the boy with demon blood. every angel you spoke to said he was an abomination, but you thought differently.

this wasn’t sam’s fault. he was a defenceless baby, having this curse brought forth onto him by his mother’s actions long before his conception. sam was a victim, a child forced into this life with no say whatsoever; and you felt like the only angel who truly saw it like that.

when you had made it to earth, cordially meeting both sam and dean for the first time, you wondered why your brother’s and sister’s talked so poorly about the man.

he truly was a friendly giant. too sweet for his own good. he cared. about people he didn’t know, his brother especially, and all the strangers he came across on hunts with dean.

watching him console a victim for the first time tugged on your heart strings. he was so kind, so thoughtful and unlike anything said about him up in heaven. it was at that moment you felt your first human emotion. a surge of fondness rushing up your body like bile coming up your throat.

for a fleeting moment, you experienced what human love was truly like.

as time moved forward, you and sam got closer and closer. more often than not, you decided to stay back and research with him instead of going out with dean and cas. you talked with him, learning about his childhood from his mouth and truly understanding the full truth and severity of his life growing up.

the day that he kissed you for the first time was magical, better than the feeling of all angel grace combined. he was nervous, hands shaking as the cupped your face and shyly asking if this is what you wanted.

of course you wanted it. you wanted sam winchester since the moment you saw him, and now you were finally getting what you hoped for.

just as you believed, sam truly was the perfect boyfriend. he was caring and considerate, always willing to drop anything and everything to make sure you were okay. though he was also tough and protective, turning full hunter mode whenever someone bothered you or made you uncomfortable.

one thing you loved was how he spoke to you. he held you at the highest point in his mind, addressing you with the upmost love and respect that he could muster.

because that is how he really saw you. sam in his heart believed that you were possibly the most gorgeous being he’d ever laid his eyes on. you were truly the apple of his eye, and he wouldn’t dream of letting someone as perfect as you go.

he even called you his butterfly. a gorgeous creation of God that flys around and somehow always lands somewhere on him. which was true, because you were a very clingy person.

you two were always holding hands, arms linked, or sam’s arm wrapped around your waist or shoulder. dean had to stop himself from hurling 24/7, and you had to stop yourself from getting cartoonish hearts in your eyes whenever you looked at him.

the peace and serenity that you brought to sam’s life was all he could ever ask for. when you decided to take up drawing and painting, he cherished the times you two would find an empty space, setting down a picnic blanket and drawing whatever your heart desired surrounded by nature.

when he joined you for the first time, and you handed him over a intricately detailed drawing of him sitting down at that very moment, eyes opened and staring woefully at the large trees and flowers surrounding him, he couldn’t help but let a couple tears fall.

“oh no,” you had exclaimed, sitting up on your knees so you could get nearer to him. “you don’t like it, do you?”

he instantly snapped his head towards you, watching as tears filled your bright coloured eyes. his heart shattered staring into your glassy irises, and he cursed himself for ever making you feel like that.

shaking his head and putting down your sketchbook so he could cup your face, sam pulled you over to him so you were delicately perched in his lap. eye’s boring into his as he delicately stroked your cheek.

“i love it butterfly. that is the prettiest drawing i have ever seen. even prettier cause it was made by you.” his cheesy words made you blush, not caring in the slightest how silly you two probably looked to on lookers. with your finger reaching out to trace the slope of his nose, you looked at him with a soft smile on your face, pouring your heart into one look. “you mean that?”

“of course i do.” his eyes held that glossy puppy dog look you loved so dearly, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. “i am not trying to sound cheesy when i say this, but you truly are the best thing that ever happened to me, butterfly. you’re the one of the only one’s who believed in me.”

his words brought a gleeful smile on your face. and as the midday sun trickled across his, you thanked your father for whatever he did to make you and sam come together.

[scrimblyscrorblo]

Back to Sanegiyuu doodles babbyyyyyy they’re so fun actually

Bonus: Demon Sanegiyuu, they’re even more competitive as demons, it’s a nightmare for literally everyone else. Oddly enough, I think they’d respect each other more though

Maybe…just even….thinking of each other as their one true rival…..

[starlitscars]

Made of ice

Jackson era! Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: One stormy night in the safety of Wyoming, it occurs to Joel that even though life has turned his heart into a slab of ice, there's a soft, melting spot buried deep inside... Only reserved for you.

Word count: 5.2k

Masterlist

Tags/warnings: MDNI, NSFW, implied age gap, canon-typical violence, Joel Miller needs his own warning, protective! Joel, soft! Joel, angst, fluff, smut, finger sucking, fingering, pet names, praise kink, language, no use of y/n, soft dom! Joel, negative thoughts, dea*h wish, self-doubt, self-confidence issues, Joel is a sweetheart here (but he doesn't think he's worthy of peace), rain, lots of rain, lightning, stormy weather, kinda established relationship, let me know if a tag has gone unnoticed.

Author's note: This is my very first attempt at writing for Joel Miller. I've had the idea in my mind for a few weeks now and it's hard to resist when it comes to him (did I say Pedro Pascal?) So I hope the details are accurate and if you decide to read this one shot, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did while writing it. If you want to be mutuals, I'll be more than glad <3

Divider by: saradika-graphics

Made of ice

You should've seen what you made of him.

The calm, slow beats in his chest are strikingly different from how he remembers them. In fact, he vaguely recalls the way those racing, dreadful patterns had carved themselves into his memory. With a rigid heart made of ice, it was nearly impossible to find the pulse in him, even at his most frightened, disappointed state. 

Joel used to walk into the face of danger with a rifle clutched in his dying grip, a life to save and thousands to destroy, and in all those moments any sign of life was nonexistent in him. There used to be rage, hatred, regret, and frustration... Oh lots of frustration, running through the veins in his body. He used to walk, talk, and breathe. But he wasn't alive.

Now he doesn't find it in himself to call it miracle. But somewhere between the lines, you happened. You happened and fuelled the dying fire in the far corner of his heart. He used to keep it empty and dark, like a deserted house with no furniture, a perfect place for the noises in his head to become loud and maybe help him stand the never-ending days of what everyone called life. 

You entered his life and now most of what he feels in these old veins is warmth, safety and attachment. Yes, he doesn't call it miracle, because his past doings are too  stained and unforgivable to deserve a miracle. To deserve you. The real miracle. The fathomable idea of what it feels to be alive.

Joel feels alive.

Some days, it feels like his wretched past is clawing its way back into his mind, calling those demons to end his days of peace with you. Some nights, he's restless... So terribly restless. What if you get injured on your next patrol? What if the Raiders attack you when you're out of the gates of Jackson? What if something bad happens to you the moment his eyes close? What if these damn what ifs come to life? This old mind tricks him into seeing pictures of what has never happened and probably never will. You always assure him that you'll be careful. He trusts you and your abilities, but he does not trust his fears. Because if life is too good, it scares him. 

It scares Joel Miller, way more than it would if he was trapped in a dark room with all of his fears and demons creeping on the cold hard floor towards him. He'd rather spend every day fighting off the Clickers and Raiders and every nasty threat out there, instead of pacing around the room and waiting to see if your patrols end well or not.

So he has no choice but to either convince Tommy to pick him as your patrol partner every damn time you have to do it – which he makes sure is as limited as possible – or occasionally keep an eye on you from a distance and let his thoughts consume him at the same time. Just like what he's doing now. 

His persistence in being close to you tends to earn him annoyed eye rolls and "She's more capable than that, Joel." comments from his brother... almost all the time. But he simply can't help it, and he thinks that you know it. Because you never complain nor haul him over the coals for his instincts and worries and the immense amount of care his rigid heart feels for you. He's silently thankful for that understanding.

You are safe here, he thinks. Even though he feels restless, his heartbeat has never been this calm. He sits and watches you on nights like this and there's only one thought ringing in his head. All the scolding is worth it. You're sprawled out peacefully on the bed. His bed. It must be straight out of a fucking impossible dream. You're here, in his atmosphere, in his menacing, guilty, dark presence... And you have chosen it knowingly. It's all he can ever ask for. 

The dim moonlight is swimming in through the curtains, casting a soft, silvery shadow over your face. Your hair is falling all around you like you're knowingly doing it... Posing for an artist just to paint this delicate beauty on a canva. 

Despite his bitter mood, a content smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. Tearing his gaze from you, he downs the remaining whiskey and silently places the empty glass on the table, deciding that he needs a short walk to free his troubled mind. One morning, Maria woke up and decided that Joel needs to stay behind and help Tommy in fixing the issues in the town's only library. So you should have another partner for your patrol days for god knows how long. He fucking hates being told what to do. He fought tooth and nail to prevent that, and if you weren't there to stop him, he would as well turn the mess hall into another ruin that needed to be fixed – which only meant more time away from you. 

So it's going to take only two weeks, at worst. Only a terrible fortnight before things go back to normal. It's almost unbelievable how you have managed to awaken a sense of normalcy in him that he hasn't known in decades. Your absence is an instant threat to this normal life.

Maybe it's about time he gets used to it. He's not that weak. He shouldn't let his angers and worries run him. More importantly, he shouldn't ruin your much needed sleep with his usual problems right now. You've still got the weekend. He'll take a walk and be back here before you as much as stir in your deep slumber.

Oh. The damn library.

...

Jackson is eerily quiet in the middle of the night, enveloped by darkness and as isolated as it can be in this corner of the world. It's a stark contrast to how busy the whole community is during the daylight – bustling with happy greetings, careless jokes, movie days, small parties, and lots of work to do. It all asks for social interaction and he deeply hates it.

He hates when every passer-by's attention turns to you every time you step out in the open. He hates how prying eyes rove up and down your frame every time you walk into the bar. He hates how... He shakes his head, almost rolling his eyes at the loudness of these thoughts. Joel has to remind himself that he is the one you hold onto and introduce to everyone in every social gathering. The proud gleam in your eyes always placates him. There's no need to break a jaw in this town... Perhaps.

Lights flicker by the porches and the sound of his boots on the ground is the only sound that disturbs the silence. The sky is clouding over, distantly promising another stormy night in its gloomy wake. Occasional flashes of lightning light up the road and before Joel knows it, he's passing by the Tipsy Bison. It's 3 past midnight, no wonder why its doors are locked and closed. Either way he comes to a halt, letting the gears turn in his head as he opts for a very familiar path.

Your house. It's a short walk away from the bar.

Joel still recalls that day. How long has it been? Five, six, seven months? It feels like yesterday to him.

He'd had a terrible conversation with Tommy, not at all the way he'd planned it on his first day in Jackson. Things got heated up pretty quickly, leaving a bitter taste of rejection lingering on his tongue, the burn of the whiskey only worsening his mood.

"Just because life stopped for you, doesn't mean it has to stop for me..."

The words were ringing in his head as he stormed out of the bar. Shrugging his jacket on, all he wanted was to walk as far away from that area as possible. This affronted, begrudging, irrational sting was boiling in him and in that moment he was more than ready to leave the gates of Jackson even if it called for more danger. Life had really ended for him years ago, but to hear it from Tommy right after the hell he'd went through to find him... It really hurt. 

The pain was resurfacing in rapid tides.

If his boots could dig deeper, get stuck in the snow and propel him into the cold biting blanket of the earth, he'd welcome it. If life had really ended for him, he had to make it make sense by ending himself as well. This... There was this distant melody echoing in the air and cutting through his troubles thoughts. The wind was harsh against his ears, and each step brought the melody closer. 

It really could be the last song that played before his funeral.  

Joel was surrounded by all the colors, and all he could see was white, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't pay much attention as he bumped into someone. He barely lifted his head to apologize, and then his gaze settled on the crackling fire on the left side of the road. 

Red and orange and yellow hues. It was a fresh contrast. His eyes were hurting from all the white snow.

He came to a halt, mindlessly waving at the person he'd bumped into. A dozen of kids had gathered around the burning logs in a barrel on the porch, rubbing their hands together and listening to the same melody he was entranced by. The same melody that he thought would be his burial hymn.

Joel's eyes followed their excited faces, wondering who they were looking at. He saw you mirroring their hopeful gleams first, and then he registered the guitar on your lap. 

To make the matters worse, you had tilted your head, shooting him a funnily quizzical look. He might've looked weird back then. The town's newcomer, with a permanent scowl on his face, maybe plotting murder as well (considering that it was the main topic in all the words that already flew around about him).

He didn't answer, still dead in his tracks as if he was immobilized by some invisible force. So you shifted in your seat, silently offering him a spot among the children as if to say "You can come over and join us."

He had two choices in that moment, either a polite decline was on the table or a dismissive frown. He looked over his shoulder at the bar and finally opted for the third choice – or so his mind created another choice for him – and he nodded, joining in on your little gathering without as much as saying a word. He really wanted to hear that song.

He never asked whether you knew the words to that song, but that night when he lay in bed and his thoughts were far from the idea that he wanted to bury himself in the snow, he vaguely remembered the lyrics. And it hit him hard, like a punch to the gut.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

He wanted to ignore how the words affected him in the middle of the night. It was the first night he could feel some semblance of peace, not sleeping with an eye open in case someone attacked them. Ellie was safe in another room. So he really considered that. He considered the possibility of staying. He was relatively new to the community... And so damn unaccustomed to the whole arrangement. He almost woke up the next morning and started packing before he remembered where he was.

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Those words stuck with him.

And his first encounter with you was a harbinger of different things to come.

One day of patrolling with you led to another, one night of inviting you for a drink led to another. One peaceful afternoon in the stable led to another. One gloomy evening in the clinic did not lead to another. He was way too protective of you to let that happen again.

He truly feels lucky. You could be anywhere else, better off if you picked anyone other than this grumpy, old man. And yet you still want him. You silly girl. You've melted his heart with your warmth. 

But he's like a lake, deserted in the middle of a haunted forest and engulfed in coldness. Even though the center is warm and gooey, he keeps the surface frozen and rigid and menacing. Hard enough to keep his instincts sane and alarmed. Cold enough to let everyone know that you're his and he will not fucking share. 

Lightning strikes again in the sky.

He lifts himself up and off your front stairs with a heavy grunt. An hour has passed since he left for a walk. The clouds have fully gathered in the sky and he thinks that he should be by your side now.

Joel really cares little for the details, always asking Tommy and Ellie to spare him the explanation and get straight to the point. But with you, it's hard to forget a couple of things. One night, a few weeks ago, you were pulling him past the threshold of your house. So adorably drunk and inviting. He was still a little pissed by how the rainstorm had ruined your nightly walk. Despite your complaints about sharing a kiss in the rain, he'd dragged you back to the nearest shelter possible, because he just didn't want to get fucking soaked. Joel didn't find it romantic at all. He was frowning, still pinning you against the wall for a begrudgingly needy kiss. You giggled into his mouth, playful fingers pocking at his chest. "Come on Joel. Let yourself enjoy it... All these neverending drops on the roof, the fresh earthy scent that comes after it... It's just really beautiful. One of the few things that kept me sane before I came here..." 

He's not really against the idea. But the changing weather doesn't bode well with him. One day is sunny, and the next is rainy and it just goes to show how he has no power over the situation.

Hell. A part of Joel is really terrified of the changing weather. One day it was scorching hot, and the next his boots crunched against the white blankets of neverending snow, reprimanding him for his carelessness. Time would pass whether he wanted to or not. He is still terrified, wishing he could stretch the time he could spend with you. God knows he wants an eternity with you. 

He has seen enough rain for a lifetime. He hasn't seen you enough. How could he enjoy getting soaked in tiny drops of water when all he wanted was to bury his face in the crook of your neck and stay there for a while – maybe forever and a little more?

But he has considered it since then. If there are a few things that keep you happy and rainy days have to be one of them, he'll give you that. He'll get used to that. There's no pattern with the rainfall in here, and the weather forecast is pretty much nonexistent. He has promised himself to tell you whenever it rains, even though he despises the idea of you catching a cold after minutes or hours of dancing in the cold, letting droplets of water wash over you without a care in this wretched world. 

He also despises the idea of waking you up.

But he knows you'll like it. You careless, adorable girl. He lives to see that excited gleam in your eyes. Everytime you show it, this old heart pounds impatiently in his chest and it all feels like the first time it has happened.

He's back home in no time. 

So, kicking his boots off as silently as possible, he trudges over and settles down by the edge of the bed, suppressing a low groan. His knees still ache from all the never-ending effort he's put in repairing the library over the past few days. Jesus, he just wants it to be done as soon as possible. It feels like he's losing so much time when he's away from you. Now that you're still pretty much asleep in the same position he last saw you, all Joel wants is to lie down by your side and melt in your warm embrace instead of having to fight with his thoughts and the world to not take away yet another precious piece of him. He can't afford to even think about losing you.

Each flash of lightning illuminates the contours of your beautiful face and he can't help himself when he lifts a hand and lets his knuckles gently stroke your cheek. Your lips are parted ever so slightly and you look so innocent in your unconscious dream. He almost backs down, part of him hoping that it rains throughout the day, just so he doesn't guilt trip himself for the pout on your face if you miss it. You need to rest.

As if you sense his hesitation, you stir in bed and lean into his touch. A low hum escapes you, and Joel is too weak to deny himself the softness it brings. His wounded knuckles are soon replaced with a calloused thumb and he wonders what's so interesting about these hands that never ceases to catch your attention.

One night at the bar, Joel had caught you actually staring at them and when he teased you a little about it, you just shrugged and grinned mischievously. "I mean... I just like them so much. Your hands are always warm, and... and that's all."

He shrugged it off that night. Ellie had also considered it a flex for him to have warm hands even in the coldest days of winter, but with you and the way you looked at him... It was different. He knew it was more than that. 

And when the nights he shared with you went further than his sinful thoughts had planned, you showed him that it was more than that. It was more than the warmth you found there. If anything, your helpless whimpers were an indication of how capable and strong these hands were.

Heat blooms in his chest. It simply is endearing. The way you always seem to recognize his touch and send his head spiraling with the idea that you want him to do more. You've never been afraid of him. You've never pushed him away. You've never judged him for the horrible things he's done. Jesus, it should terrify him. Joel should've pushed you away at some point, because he knows you'd be better off without him, but how could he muster the strength to do so? Since that fateful moment on your porch, your presence keeps on inviting him for more. More than simply existing. And God, if you knew how he wants to do more than that every second of the day... Only if the world lets him breathe a little.

There's another bolt of lightning and raindrops finally begin to drum against the window pane.

Joel shakes his head to get rid of those worrisome ideas. Propping himself on one elbow, he leans over ever so slightly and lets his thumb trace its way to your chin, up to your jawline, and then back to the soft skin on your cheek. He draws circles over the blooming flush and then his thumb is traveling down to your lower lip. Your mouth parts just a little more, breathing even and content and if he gets a grip on himself, he may notice that there's a ghost of a smile in there as well.

"Baby..." He whispers softly, his gaze drifting all over your adorable face. You really are a piece of art, tangled in the sheets, in the safety of his house, and your innocent hums are doing something to him. Some obscene voice that silently pleads for more. More and more... Just to give you more. 

You stir a little more.

He leans over and places a gentle kiss on your forehead, the sweet, fruity scent he's come to like a lot about you engulfing his senses. He watches every little movement with amusement. "My sweet baby... You want to see what's waitin' for you outside."

"Joel," you mumble sleepily, voice drowsy and laced with a hint of confusion as you rub your eyes and stretch your arms before looking around the dark room with a quizzical expression on your face. It doesn't take long for the realization to hit you and the familiar gleam in your gaze makes him smile. You stare a him, wide-eyed. "is it- again?"

He chuckles and gestures at the window. "Yes, a heavy one at that."

Again, there's that hum of delight as you follow his gaze. The pitter-patter of the rain cheers you up like a lollipop would do to a child. It's maddeningly adorable.

You should be running to the backyard by now, but instead you stare at him for a while. It's his turn to be confused. Your smile gets broader by each passing second as your delicate hands trace his face and run over the salt and pepper patches of his beard. When you playfully ruffle his hair, your eyes are still droopy and dreamy and so damn kissable that he just can't help himself.

His other hand fondles with a loose strand of hair beside you on the pillow before twirling it between his fingers. You bite your lower lip and lift your head just enough for a brief peck on the tip of his nose. He chuckles, letting his fingers draw a line over the column of your neck, down to your chest, and at last they disappear beneath the sheets, settling comfortably on the warm expanse of your belly. 

Joel assumes that his presence is not too close to lock you in place, and yet not too loose to let you drift back into unconsciousness. You just have the perfect moment to escape. For goodness sake, rain is the one thing you choose over anything else. The thing you like a lot.

But you're still here, dazed eyes flickering all over his face and it just gives him a second thought. A new idea to test your patience. Seeing you still pinned under him and unmoving, was not really in his list when he decided to walk back home and wake you up. He chortles with amusement. If you want what he thinks you do, he could give you that... "Come on sweetheart, what's stoppin' you?"

His fingers drift lower, exploring the bare flesh of your thigh, right where his mouth was hours ago. Still as warm as he remembers, maybe a little bruised too. "It's all rainy outside. Ain't that what you wanted?"

"I know..." You mumble, an undertone of need sewn in your voice as you look down over the sheets that cover every movement of his hand. It's too dark for you to see anything anyway. He could easily toss the covers aside, but it's wickedly satisfying this way. "I'm- um, just feeling a little under the influence...and it's- uh, it's distracting."

His hand caresses its way to where he knows you need it the most, and you barely repress a shudder when his fingertips glide over your folds. But he barely feels you, a ghost of a touch hovering there as a smirk threatens to flicker at the corner of his mouth.

"Wonder if my hand's makin' a good influence or a bad one. What d'you say, baby?"

It pelts down steadily outside, but you don't seem to care the slightest about it. Neither does Joel. A low gasp emanates from you when his touch becomes proper, rubbing circles and spreading the slick over your clit as slow and unrushed as he physically can manage. You're still indecently wet after he'd brought you over the edge again and again before you dozed off... and the fact that some of his cum might be gathering in his hand is fueling his lewd thoughts.

You naughty girl.

"A very bad one, I see." He tuts, feeling your chest heaving up and down beneath him. It's easy to rile you up this way. Desperation is written in your expression... and he hasn't even started yet.

"She needs fixin', doesn't she?" Joel asks, bringing his movement to a sudden halt. You're too distracted by everything he does to form a coherent thought. He lifts an expectant brow, now actually waiting for an answer.

"Yes- yes Joel... need it so bad... so bad it hurts." You breathe, a helpless pout forming on your lips.

"I know baby. I know... Jus' lay down and let me take care of it, hm? How's that sound?" He demands again, but this time he doesn't give you a chance to respond as he pushes two fingers past your weeping hole, burying them knuckles deep within your warmth. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, eyelids heavy as you grasp his arm, squirming like a helpless, needy girl.

What a cruel man he is.

"Not off to a good start, angel. I know you can be more patient."

You nod quickly, biting your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from wriggling and twisting on the bed. For a split second, Joel considers pulling out to nuzzle his face between your legs and let the heat consume him. A perfect place to brave the cold, restless seasons. 

But his fingers aren't shy either. He starts with slow thrusts, effortlessly sliding in and out before picking up the pace. He makes you adjust to his rhythm, and when you let go and open up, the obscene moans and chocked out cries are all that fill the silence of the house. Jesus, he lives to hear them every day. He rewards you by curling his fingertips to hit that spot that makes you see stars.

You shudder particularly hard at that, more arousal pooling inside you and soaking his fingers. You're losing your grip with reality, and he can sende it as your legs begin to shake and your knee brushes over the denim of his jeans, but you still remember to abide by his "No squirming" rule.

You're so pliant and obedient in his hands that it does nothing but to spur Joel to give you more. And so he does.

"I like these sounds," He adds a third finger, tilting his head to whisper in your ear. "I dream about them all the time."

You whimper and tighten your hold around Joel's arm. When he feels that your orgasm is creeping impossibly close, his thumb joins and rubs rapid circles over your bundle of nerves and that's your undoing. You clench around him, walls tightening and squeezing his fingers deeper – if that's even possible – as waves of white-hot euphoria crash over your worn out body and take over your senses. Your back arches involuntarily into him. A sound between a groan and a curse escapes his throat.

"That's it. Atta girl... that's it, so fuckin' beautiful."

His touch is unrelenting as he talks you through it with a string of sweet nothings. 

Only when you come down and rest back on the bed he slowly pulls out. You're panting heavily, face flushed and heated and so effortlessly seductive that Joel is sure no fucking artist could ever capture it in words of a poem or colors of a painting. Joel is the only one to witness this moment and it swells his chest with pride. He wants to drink it in, let it run through his veins like never-ending liquor.

He lifts his hand, smirking as you gape at the way it's glistening under the dim light. You're in awe. He softly places the tips between your swollen lips and you waste no time in swirling your tongue around them, licking the slick off as if it's a delightful lollipop. And the hazy look on your face says that it's more than just a sweet treat.

His own breathing hitches when you open your mouth a little wider and take him fully in, sucking and humming and driving him absolutely crazy. He shakes his head slightly, catching the playful gleam in your gaze.

"Hm. Still a very bad influence."

When you're fully recovered and satisfied, Joel lifts you up in his arms and walks towards the backyard, chuckling at your confused expression. You give a squeal and wrap your hands around his neck to keep yourself steady, at the same time trying to gauge what his next plan would be. You really have forgotten about the rain, haven't you?

He comes to a halt, making sure the blanket he'd just picked off the bed is not leaving any part of your body uncovered. The rainstorm has eased off considerably over the past hour, but he doesn't want to risk it. Keeping you warm and safe in the cold is and will always be his top priority, no matter if his back or knees protest from how much they ache. Hell, he aches for you and that content smile on your face. Nothing beats it.

"My girl still wants to go out, hm?"

Your eyes flicker between him and the half-open door, filled with excitement and delight and a tiny flicker of doubt. "Yes Joel... but...you sure you want to join in?"

"I don't know," He feigns innocence, pretending to think for a short while before his face lights up with an idea. "Do I get a kiss for it?"

You laugh and lean up to press your lips into his in a soft, lingering kiss. It's so tender and reassuring that he has to pull back before changing his mind and taking you back to the bed.

"Then it's settled."

It has been settled for a long time.

Maybe he can get used to it. Maybe you get a better idea of what you've made of him with your presence at times when he easily complies with things that make you happy. A heart made of ice, molten enough to experience the world with you all over again. Even if he gets soaked in the rain, he's alright with it. You kiss him and all the discomfort is forgotten.

He should give it time and learn to breathe again. Learn to stay, to settle. To let you know that you're all he sees.

Yeah, I don't want to hurt

There's so much in this world 

To make me bleed

Stay with me

Let's just breathe

Stay with me

You're all I see

The words are carved in his head. He chances a glance at the living room before walking past the door. Your guitar is placed on the couch. Maybe one day he'll bring himself to play his melodies for you too. He think that he's got a lot of time for it now. He wants an eternity with you, and in this wretched world, eternity lasts as long as you'll have him.

One, two... Ten droplets fall over him. He kisses you again, harder and longer. His ice-cold heart melts just a little more at your careless laughter. Just stay with me.

[redflagshipwriter]

Snitches the cat and his favorite bat

I wrote up dpxdc fics based off of prompts I happened to see in the last day to add to the reading pile for anyone who didn't prep for the archive down time today.

EDIT

The idea for Danny as a cat came from @shycorvid, thank you so much for correcting me and letting me play in your sandbox!

Snitches the cat comes from @garbagewith-a-cherryontop (I think??? I couldn't find a definite first post!) but the fantastic linked post is the one with how I think Snitches the cat looks here.

Word count is 1053.

Tumblr reference

masterpost for my AO3 downtime fics

“Ugh- that's not- did we just summon a demon cat?”

“It's so messed up looking. Ew.”

Danny blinked and swayed on his feet. He'd had a tail a minute ago, speeding across the GZ to check in on Walker. There had been an unpleasant lurch in his stomach. And now he was on his feet. All four of them.

Wait, what?

“You fucked this up.”

His ears twitched at the sound of a slap. Danny swiveled towards the sound and then got distracted by the feeling of his ears swiveling back. Whaaaaat?

He looked down at his precious little feeties. They were adorable paws.

“Oh, you motherfuckers,” he said. It came out as a conversational yowl.

The humans looked at him from about ten feet away and five feet up. “Annoying…”

He was pretty sure they were high schoolers. There were five of them, two girls and three boys. They were all bigger than him. High schoolers were usually bigger than he was, but this was just ridiculous.

“Count yourself lucky, dimwits,” one of the older kids said. He took a step towards Danny. Danny pressed his ears flat against his head and hissed at the approach. “If you managed to sacrifice Patches to a demon, your Mom would straight up murder you.” He laughed when he said it, like anything about that was remotely funny.

Uh- what now?

Only now, Danny noticed a very distressed calico cat underneath a laundry basket on the other side of the room. There was a stack of textbooks weighing the basket down. A large rug had been rolled up and- he sneezed rapidly, eyes watering. Chalk! They'd drawn on the floor with chalk!

‘This is some incompetent summoning,’ Danny realized, way too late. ‘Did they- how did they turn me into a cat?’ He looked at his unfortunate brethren under the laundry basket. Her ears were flat against her skull and she looked scared.

He remembered the word “sacrifice” and his blood flushed hit with fury. They'd wanted him to eat her! They'd wanted something to eat miss Patches!

The teenagers froze and looked at him, aghast at the angry sounds that were coming out of his throat.

“Shut up!” One hissed. She took off her shoe and threw it at him. Danny dodged and then threw his head back to yowl even louder. Sonic attack! Aural damage, you big jerks!

“The neighbors are going to- make it shut up!”

Danny had to run, dashing over furniture and tearing his way across a crowded table to avoid being grabbed. He screamed the whole time, eager to alert whoever they were so afraid of. Someone should see!

The window burst in.

Danny stopped running, shocked. He hadn't actually expected-

Someone snatched him up from behind and smacked him on the face with a palm. His jaw exploded with pain. It cut off his yowling.

Stunned. He was still for a moment and then he struggled for his life. The grip on his ribs was way too tight-

He looked over at the sound of a sword being pulled from a sheath. Holy shit, that was bomb as hell. His eyes went wide at the sight of a heavily armored small child crouched on the windowsill. The boy's eyes were covered, but Danny could still see him look at Danny and the poor calico under the laundry basket. He sneered.

“Unhand the cat or lose your hands at the wrist, you wretch.”

Danny loved him.

The teenager dropped him. Danny caught himself with a stumble. He let out a sad mraow before he could stop himself.

Fight club baby was enraged. “What have you done to this animal?” He hopped down into the room, revealing he was at least a foot shorter than the smallest girl in the room.

Danny trotted to him and started winding around his ankles admiringly. What a good kid! He purred.

“I will be taking both of your cats with me. If you ever harm an animal again, it will be your head that is found in a chalk-”

“Robin.” A hugeass grown man squeezed himself through the window that the kid had broken. Danny craned his head up, up, up, to see him case the joint.

The older man radiated incredible judgment. “I see that you require education on animal welfare and demonic summoning. Go on, Robin.”

“That's my Mom's cat!” One of the teenagers protested. “You can't take her!”

Robin growled at her. Danny jumped in his skin at the sound.

“Then we shall return it to your Mother and her alone, when we explain what you've done.” Danny let murder baby scoop him up and purred at full volume. Hell yeah. He looked at the cowering teenagers with condescension.

“Not that fugly thing.”

Danny blinked. He ended up making an inquisitive mraow. Why was a finger being pointed at him? He was baby.

“That thing showed up, you can get rid of it. But Patches is Mom's cat, and you can't steal a cat because-”

“Batman can steal any cat!” Robin bit out, gathered up Patches, and jumped out the window with both cats in an expert grip.

That didn't sound right, but Danny just enjoyed the night air as a line pulled Robin up to where yet another masked vigilante was waiting, cackling himself to tears.

“Batman can steal any cat,” he wheezed. “Brilliant. Good detour, Robin. Can I hold one?” He held out his blue-striped palms expectantly.

He faltered when he saw Danny, visibly surprised.

Danny… was starting to feel bad. He curled into Robin, hurt. He wasn't ugly. Why did people keep reacting to him weird?

“No,” Robin said curtly. “You have damaged his pride, and Patches is still reeling from her shock.”

The man let out a sigh but let the topic go. “That's Patches, and this is…?”

Robin hesitated. “He is the Snitch.”

That unlocked cooing. “Snitches? Snitchy Snitch Sni- ow!”

Danny snapped at the hand that came way too close and he let out a warning growl. No baby talk!

Robin seemed very pleased. He rubbed behind Danny's ears. “Snitch… I suppose that Snitches will suffice. We are taking him home.”

“....Maybe, just for fun, we should take him to get treated for mange first!” The guy made jazz hands to go with his statement.

Robin and Danny both growled that time.

[evilminji]

You think the Zone has its version of Comic Con?

Like? Think about it. You have literally all of time to work on it, your Magnum Opus, your life's work. That DREAM comic. All the supplies you could ever wish for. Endless paper. Endless ink. You can practice and practice for CENTURIES until it's JUST right.

Wouldn't you want to share it?

There are definitely Ghosts who have Obsessions that make them collect.

And two people meeting would lead to a group. Lead to a bigger group. Lead to a large group. A gathering. A crowd even. Eventually you need a Lair to meet IN. It becomes An Event.

People hear about it.

Want to bring other art mediums. Food stalls. Report on it. It grows. Shoot offs start happening. Niche meet ups.

But like?

Unlike comic con? It's all FREE. Sure, you might have fork over the ecto to make your copy. And yeah, weaker ghosts can only do that so many times. Will have to prioritize. But? They can come back after leaving for a nap. Ask a buddy to come with. There ARE work arounds.

Just? Imagine the unbelievable HIPE? Danny would feel? But be unable to TELL anyone about? Zone Con happens several times a year! Cause so many people wanna come. The Zone being infinite, after all.

Problem 1? They're using THEIR standard of a "year". Which is actual 5 earth years. So it's only happens every year and a half for him. And Problem 2? He can't even TALK about how excited he is about Z Con with anyone (outside his friends and family) because they haven't heard of it and might Ask Questions.

It's ALSO held in a part of the Zone that's like? Three days of flying away from the portal. And no amount of begging is gonna get any of his loved ones to camp in the Speeder for around six-ish days just to go to a Con.

So you can imagine his DELIGHT. His utter JOY and *Target Spotted* "!!!" Noise, when? In the crowd? He spots A HUMAN! Hi fellow human!!! Omg, wanna be Con Besties? *doesn't even wait for an answer*

So now? This sad, blonde, deeply lost and kinda alarmed, trench coat dude? Is Danny's new Z Con Going Bestie! You got a map yet, bestie? No? That's cool, he has one. By the way, he has human food in the Speeder if you nee-

YES!

Cause, see, here's the THING. John? Lost to the Realms Infinte. Or Infinte Realms. Translation was iffy... and on fire... like the rest of the building. It was him or the kids those psychos had kidnapped, for what fucked "ritual" the voices in their heads, that THEY thought were demons but frankly he's pretty sure was just feedback from-

Look, doesn't matter, he had to choose. He always knew someday he'd have too. That even twisting Luck and talking fast wouldn't quite be enough. And he had to decide, in that moment, which outcome mattered more to him. They get out safe, or he does.

Wasn't much of a question, was it?

So, there he is. Staring down oblivion and all those debts unpaid. 'Bout to see who's gonna come for him this time, and take what left of wretched soul. When? He bleeds on the FUCKIN two-bit crap circle they squiggled in God only knows what. Remembers that "oh YEAH, set dressings!" Sometimes when you focus too hard on insuring a Good Outcome?

You weird weird as shit byproducts happening on the side to balance it all out.

Or BAD ones.

He wakes up someone fucking green and crowded. For the life of him can't tell you which one it is. And THAT was of course, bout two days ago.

Biggest and most immediate problem? He... does NOT recognize what flavor of magical fuckery this is. Doesn't seem Fae. And doesn't smell like Hell. There are... there are honest to God BOOTH BABES hanging around. Hunks too. The view is LOVELY.

And nerdy.

Very, very nerdy.

But he isn't THAT out of touch. So he should recognize SOMETHING. Or at least the languages. But nope! It's like aliens and magic had a nerd baby and dipped it in GREEN. And the worst thing? Is there is food everywhere, but it all glows and John's not stupid enough to eat it.

Then? Sweet merciful fuck. Salvation! Some teeny bopper Barely No Longer Teen fresh faced INFANT of a Hero kid. With a SHIP. Who has FOOD and a clear idea of where they are. Hello~ John's new BEST FRIEND. Yes. Absolutely. Con Buddies, whatever.

Just feed me, kid.

Only? Once he inhales like 5 "Fenton rations"? He only gets half way through introducing himself before getting interrupted. Kid hears "magic" and "occult Detective" and just? Goes "oh! So you wanna check out the magic Ally with me? Sam wanted me to pick up some witchy stuff!"

..............how magic?

(In Which? Constantine becomes Danny's interdimensional Con buddy)

@the-witchhunter @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation @lolottes @nerdpoe

[baldursgate3tempobsessed]

Astarion Jealousy Part 2

The graphic extension to this but a lil less serious and definitely not sfw.

CW: Jealous spawn astarion who is still a sweetheart, but the drow twins get under his skin. graphic sex scenes, oral, relatively tame honestly. The sex part will be under the cut btw which is m/f. Also vampire man drinks blood. mentionable incorrect language for sex workers

~

It was odd, being home in Baldur’s Gate without the threat of Cazador always looming. Odd, but equally as wonderful. It had been so thoughtful, if not a little idiotic for Cazador to end up being your first stop in the city. The fight itself had been a blur, a barrage of intense emotions and bloody violence. Astarion had come so close to losing himself back there, losing everything that made him better than the man who almost ruined him. But then… you stopped him. You saw something more in him, a chance for a better life. A more meaningful life, away from the shackles of vampiric power obsessions. 

He was officially free. Now he could exist without any fear of his disgusting master’s retribution. He could just… be. Well… not including his darling’s own myriad of enemies that seemed to follow them about everywhere. And there was still the matter of defeating the elder brain, and lord knows if any of you made it through that alive. But at least his personal demons were slain and out of the picture.

Every little step counted after all. Perhaps some of your delusional hopefulness had finally started to rub off on him, but Astarion was actually starting to look forward to his future. Your future, together. All he had to do was get through a few more perilous adventures and then he’d really have you all to himself. 

All that said, Astarion could really go without the frequent visits to the local brothel. Was it the best place in the city for gathering information? Yes. It seemed that every walk of life in Baldur’s Gate found their way into Shar’s Caress and if you were going to find alternative passage to the underworld, this would be the best place to find it. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. For one there were the unwelcome advances to his own person, the concept of grace and personal space apparently left at the door. He was so very close to breaking the hand of the next person who thought it was appropriate to grab his ass. And if they could afford to get kicked out he would have by now. Your verbal, angry tirades in his defense could only scare off so many. 

But as terrible as his own discomfort was, it was nothing in the face of how often you were being fawned over. What was it about you that seemed to drive everyone mad? Yes you were objectively attractive, but this was frankly getting out of hand. First there was the green skinned druid doing something sensual to your mind, then there were the general stares and whispers as you walked by, and now a pair of gorgeous drow twins trying and failing to proposition you. 

It was getting tiresome. There were only so many times a man could take his lover being offered “free” services before he snapped. 

On one hand, he could respect the dedication they had to the craft. He could be considered something of a hired whore himself in his time, the old, “the first one’s free” was a tried and true trick. And he also knew, vaguely, that no one was actually trying to steal you from him. But on the other, he couldn’t help the fact that he wanted to claw their eyes out for looking at you so brazenly.

He hadn’t expected the eyes of the woman to wander over to him, like she was just noticing the possessive arm he had wrapped around your waist, “Is that your partner with you? How would you both feel about having a little fun?”

Absolutely fucking not. Maybe the old Astarion would have smiled and nodded, ready to do whatever was asked of him. But the man from that wretched era had died, or at the very least was dying. And he would be damned if he let you lay with another, never less participate in it. 

Astarion interrupted your overly-polite attempts stuttering of a refusal. He glared at them both, a sneer painted on his face, “We’ll be passing on that. You’d think the first no would have sufficed, but I suppose it’s not fair to expect everyone to have basic language comprehension. Now as illuminating as this conversation has been, we have places to be. Excuse us.”

Then he was pulling you away, happy to ignore the offended huffs of indignation he had left in his wake. 

“We’re supposed to be investigating, remember?” You said with a giggle, not even questioning him as he dragged you to the second floor, “Being rude is not the way we’ll find travel to the hells.”

“I highly doubt they would have been of use,” Astarion said as he pushed you into the first empty room he could find. He felt off, maybe even a little crazed as he turned to you, “Tell me darling, what is it about you that makes you so irresistible, hm?”

He crowded you against the closed door, ducking his head into the crook of your neck to breath you in. You smelled heavenly, you always did. He could trace the barest whiff of your blood from beneath your skin, always calling to him. You were the sweetest thing he ever tasted. Delicious even, for more reasons than one. 

“T-They just wanted my coin,” You gasped when he started to suck bruises into your skin, “That’s all.”

“I think they wanted a bit more than that,” Astarion bit out as he shoved his thigh between your legs, “What will it take for others to realize you’re mine.”

His hands were wandering, resting low to grip your hips. He was using them to move you, forcing you to grind against his thigh. You grasped at his shoulders, trying to bite back a moan as you stared at him with wide eyes, “You want to do it here? Does that door even lock?”

It looked like it didn’t, not that Astarion cared. Maybe walking in on him ravishing you would finally start getting the point across of who you belonged to. Astarion shrugged, "There are less appropriate venues than literal whore houses."

“But-”

“But I can tell you want it,” Astarion interrupted with a smirk, his hands barely working to move your body anymore. But that wasn’t stopping you from rubbing yourself all over him, “Just look at you darling. Desperate little thing. But if you really don’t want to…”

Astarion made a lazy attempt to step back, laughing out loud when your desperately pulled him back, your desire finally winning out over your common sense. But you were glaring at him, obviously annoyed that he was so good at riling you up. He had seen that look before, the one that just screamed that you were scheming something. 

He just hadn’t expected you to drop to your knees in front of him, huffing as you started to undo the fastenings to his pants, “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a bit of a shit?”

“Maybe,” Astarion said with a strained laugh, his breath catching when you pulled his half-hard cock out, “But it seems to keep getting me the things I want.”

You rolled your eyes before licking a wide strip up his cock, like you weren’t directly proving his point. You looked amazing own there, you’re half-hearted glare morphing into a blissful haze. 

Gods, how were you real? Astarion wasn’t quite sure why you were such a fan of getting him down your throat, but he knew that he was a lucky bastard for it. 

“Sweet girl,” Astarion sighed, letting a hand drift down to tangle in your hair, “Sweet girl with a perfect mouth. And you’re all mine, aren’t you?”

You made a small, affirmative noise around his cock, taking him in deeper as you clutched at his thighs. You were so good at this, so well-trained after months of being together. He loved the soft, wet sounds that would escape your lips as you swallowed him down, the pretty way your eyes would water as you encouraged him to fuck your throat, how you would squirm in place on your knees, no doubt ruining your panties with how wet you were getting. 

And no one else would ever know. No one would get to see you like this again, feel you like this. Needy, desperate, and his. Oddly enough, that thought was what sent him over the edge. He came down your throat, groaning as you eagerly swallowed around him. 

You pulled off of him slowly, panting while you smiled up at him. There was the smallest string of spit mixed with his come, connecting from the head of his cock to your lips. You licked it up, still clinging to his thighs as you hazily stared up at him. Sweet enough to make his heart skip a beat, and his dick give a valiant twitch.

He pulled you to your feet, not wasting any time in smashing your lips together. He spun you around, pushing you towards what he prayed was a clean bed. 

He pushed you back onto the sheets, making quick work of tearing your pants down your legs as he grinned down at you, “Your turn.”

He kneeled in front of you; spreading his hands over your splayed thighs to peel off your underwear. The core of you was already glistening, slick enough to make Astarion’s mouth water. He licked his lips as he spread your legs further apart, shameless as he feasted on you with his eyes. 

You were shaking in his hold, biting your bottom lip when you whined, “Stop staring already…”

“But you’re so pretty here my sweet,” Astarion cooed, tracing a single finger over the seam of your cunt, “And you’re dripping. Poor thing, have I kept you waiting too long?”

You nodded excitedly above him, your hips bucking when he let his fingers dip in further between your pussy lips. He lightly traced your clit, softly laughing at the way the simple touch made you whine.

It was his own fault that you were so needy, a fact that brought a smirk to his lips. You always got so wet after you had him down your throat, soaked and gorgeous. 

Astarion dove right in, loudly moaning as he licked into your folds. He dragged his lips upward to suckle on your clit, basking in all the cries and whimpers escaping you.

He licked back down, teasing your hole with his tongue as your legs quivered around his head. He let the sharpness of his fangs scrape against you as he started to fuck you with his tongue, threatening your most intimate places.

He knew you liked that; little minx that you were. The slight risk of pain that was always looming. It made him want to sink his fangs in you for real, a hunger that he'd sate after he had you gushing into his mouth.

You were already close, he could tell from the way your cunt was tightening around his tongue; too worked up from the thrill of being in public and the taste of him still lingering on your tongue. Astarion trailed talented fingers up to rub against your clit, his tongue still curling inside of you as you cried out. Finally falling over the edge. But that wasn't stopping him from continuing to play with you.

You had to tug on Astarion’s hair for him to finally pull away, too over sensitive to handle his talented tongue. You were still trembling by the time he leaned back, licking his lips. He rested his head on your thigh, obviously pleased with himself as he grinned up at you. He could feel your heart racing against his cheek, the sound of your blood pumping singing through your veins. It had his mouth watering for a completely different reason. 

He let his fangs drag against the delicate skin of your inner thigh, looking up at you through his lashes, "Can I?"

A superfluous question. Not when he already knew the answer before it escaped your lips.

“Y-yeah," You mumbled, lovingly gazing down at him. He would never tire of seeing that look on your face, "But be gentle? Please?” 

"Of course my love," Astarion murmured, before promptly sinking his fangs into your flesh. He had to hold you down from the way you were still trembling, your quivering only getting worse at the pleasure mixed with pain. He didn’t let himself go rabid, just enough to get a taste. He was pulling back too soon, smiling to himself at the little whine you let out. He gently licked over the wound before standing, not yet swallowing the last drops on his tongue.

Instead he leaned forward to kiss you, more than happy to share the sweet taste of your blood as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

“Thank you my dear,” Astarion sighed as he pulled away, “That was exactly what I needed. Now I think that’s enough investigating for one day.” 

You sighed, taking the time to card your fingers through his hair, “Agreed. Though you might have to carry me out of here now.”

Wasn’t that a wonderful idea?

Astarion hummed as he pulled your clothing back on, “I think I like the sound of that," He didn't give you time to respond, too busy sweeping you up in his arms with a grin, "I'll be taking you up on that."

You squeaked when he hefted you up, bridal style, “I wasn’t being serious!”

But it was too late, Astarion was already kicking the door open. He shrugged at you, completely shameless as he winked at a few onlookers, "Then you shouldn't have suggested it."

You groaned, hiding your face in his shirt as he happily took you outside, “I’m going to get you back for this. I hope you know that.”

Astarion laughed as he kissed the top of your head, “I’m sure you will.”

It was a childish stunt, borderline on par with a jealous tantrum, but gods, did it feel good. Good enough to sate Astarion's obsessive tendencies for an impressive amount of time. Under normal circumstances. 

But what about your lives were normal?

[lurochar]

Before It All (Pt. 3)

Warnings: Obsessive Alastor

Part 1 + Part 2

---------------------------------

It really was you.

His nameless Doe.

You seemed tense, clearly uneasy by the static he emitted and his presence alone by the looks of your erect ears and puffed fur of your tail.

(How cute, you had your clothes altered for your tail. A shame he hadn’t noticed it back when he had summoned you).

Alastor was now used to fellow demons being unnerved and frightened in his presence and so they should be, but you – there was no reason for you to be so anxious in his company, though he supposed he could understand it somewhat.

The power dynamics were completely turned around.

You had no advantage over him, he wasn’t that weak human anymore.

But still, Alastor didn’t like the fact you were so wary of him, so he needed to lighten the mood, break the tense atmosphere, and there was no better way than reminding you of your encounter with him when he was the weaker one, when you had the power over him, was there?

“How I’ve missed your wonderful ears, my nameless Doe.”

Alastor always did find your ears fascinating.

He may have his own pair of deer ears now and they had their uses – his auditory senses were vastly superior when compared to his human self, so much so, it took a week or two for him to adjust to sensory overload. They also gave any would-be attackers a false sense of security, he was just a deer demon, so he had to be weak.

Ripping those sorts to shreds felt much more satisfying.

But his ears were so damn sensitive to touch that Alastor had no idea how you didn’t just melt into a trembling mess when you allowed him to stroke your ears all those years ago.

He needed to move on from these thoughts before–

You blinked at his odd greeting, your body relaxing slightly from its earlier tensed position that had been poised to flee at any given second.

You blinked again.

And then you let out a loud yelp of surprise, springing forward when you felt icy cold hands playfully tug on your ears from behind. 

–before his shadow acted upon them.

You reeled around to see what had touched you, not expecting to see a grin right up in your face and you stumbled back a bit, happy enough that you didn’t embarrass yourself in front of the Radio Demon/Alastor by letting out some sort of pitiful sound like a scream or shriek.

“I do hope you can excuse my shadow’s behaviour. The poor thing can hardly contain itself, seeing it is a reflection of me.” Alastor gestured the shadow away, which it did after giving you a last glance before it vanished. “Well then, should we do now what we should have done twenty-four years ago?”

You’re unsure what he is talking about.

“Introductions, my nameless Doe! Unless you prefer that name over your real one.” Alastor bows in a flashy way. “Alastor Hartfelt! But you already knew that, correct?” He stood up straight and eyed you expectantly.

“It’s nothing special, it’s just Y/N.” You shrug before eyeing Alastor intently and you hope you don’t get killed or worse for your question. “You just seemed like a miserable boy brought up in a miserable situation, so I gave you a pass. I thought if I got rid of your main problem, maybe you could live the rest of your life normally. You didn’t even make it to forty. What happened?”

Alastor hummed. “It would turn out that my father was only a drop in the bucket. After that wretch was gone from our lives, my Mama instilled in me the importance and value of women. Women are not second-class citizens nor are they property, but this way of thinking was uncommon and misogyny was everywhere.”

You think you can guess where this is heading to…

“I killed men, men like my father. Men who see no problem in beating their wife. Degenerates that stalked the alleyways for their next rape victim. For over a decade, I was the ‘Bayou Butcher’. It’s only due to the incompetence of a hunter that I am here now.” The expression on his face was that of delight. “I have no remorse. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of it.”

Oh.

It’s… it’s not what you wanted for Alastor, but you remembered that sheer hatred in his eyes. Something that deeply rooted wasn’t so easily erased, even if the main cause was taken out of the situation.

Unfortunately, you were not wrong in guessing Alastor would eventually condemn himself to Hell.

Fortunately, you had held onto Hartfelt for the past twenty some years.

You do have another question, but you know better than to ask.

Some demons don't care, but some demons can get quite offended if asked about their appearance and why they ended up looking the way they do. It’s personal, tied to their sins in life and their manner of death.

Asking Alastor why he ended up as a deer demon, a prey-based demon, could get you killed or maybe worse.

“I was mistaken for a deer by an inept hunter who took a shot before bothering to confirm what he was shooting at.” Alastor answers easily and casually, as if reading your mind and knowing what you want to ask. “Do not be afraid to ask me anything, my lovely Doe. I assume you heard my message on one of my broadcasts, yes? I meant every word of what I said.”

Lovely Doe?

‘I told him my name…’ You decided it didn’t matter too much as it wasn’t demeaning or degrading. You’ve been called much, much worse and on a regular basis by Hartfelt, so hearing an affectionate(?) nickname was a bit of refreshing change–

Should you be thinking that way?

Your ears dropped.

“Listen, Alastor,” you noticed his eyes seemed to glow brighter from you simply saying his name, “I messed up that day. I… I shouldn’t have touched you, let alone hug you. There are countless reasons why most demons don’t have free access to the human world. Contact with demons tends to screw humans up. Even just one night with a Succubus or an Incubus can fuck up humans for months and they’re low-class demons.”

Alastor simply tilted his head.

“I’m mid-class and… and I should have known better.” You sighed. “I think I messed you up in some way by touching you and letting you touch me.”

You were taken back when Alastor started to laugh and your ears flattened completely, slightly bothered by his reaction to your words.

Did you say something amusing?

“Oh dear me, you have twisted it all around in your worrisome mind, haven’t you?” Alastor chuckled. “So you have yet to realize you saved me and my Mama from that piece of scum I had to call ‘father’? My life even? Had you not killed that man for me, I would have made a clumsy attempt to murder that man, whether I succeeded or not. Such a thing would have cost me my life much earlier. I would not have been able to pursue my career and take good care of my Mama until her final days.”

You flustered, not sure what to say back.

“I lived my life the way I wished to because you freed me from that man. I am here in Hell purely of my own actions, though perhaps a little earlier than expected. You are very much downplaying what you are to me and I cannot say I care much for it.” Alastor couldn’t help the loudening crackle of his static.

“...okay…”

“Pardon?” Alastor’s ears twitched at the mumble of your voice, though he heard you just fine. He wanted you to clarify what ‘okay’ meant and look him in the eyes as you did so. He wouldn’t trap you in a contract like the fools whose souls he owned, but with his guaranteed protection for nothing more than just staying at his side and within his sight, how could you refuse?

(Though, if you wanted to give him your soul, he certainly wouldn’t turn it down).

“Okay! Maybe I didn’t fuck you up! Maybe you were… a little ‘different’ from the start!” You weren’t sure how to say ‘psychopathic’ in a nice way. “I still felt guilty about it this entire time. I hoped differently, but I knew you would probably end up in Hell.” You admitted, huffing when Alastor let out another chuckle. “So I did something to try to make up for it in case I did mess with your mind somehow.”

“Hmm, and what is that, my lovely Doe?” Alastor’s smile seemed to widen and it may be hidden from view, his tail wagged in excitement. “You thought of me, even before I landed myself in Hell? I must say, I’m quite flattered!”

“I looked for him as soon as I got back from the human world and found him before he understood how… things worked around here.” You didn’t feel bad in the least. “So I tricked him into making a deal with me. Shelter, food, simple basics for his soul. He didn’t seem used to living on the streets, so he took it right away. He didn’t understand what it actually meant to give your soul away.”

“Well done! What a delightful little tidbit! I had no idea if you would be interested in the art of deal-making. I would be more than happy to guide you. Why, I already own a great number of souls myself.” Alastor’s smile turned a little more sinister and he felt his blood heat at the thought of watching you trick some desperate fool into giving you their soul.

He would slaughter an entire district just to see that.

“I’ve… never really thought about it? I just do what I can to get by. Prey and livestock-based demons don’t have it easy in Hell.” You were sought out for your meat after all. “Anyway, I thought I’d make it up to you by – well, that demon whose soul I own is your father’s.”

The static around Alastor went completely silent.

You swallowed thickly, suddenly nervous. “I, uh, I always intended on giving you ownership of his soul whenever you ended up here, if you ended up in Hell. You can do anything you want to him, I have no intention of interfering if you… wanted to broadcast his torment or something.”

Shit, why was Alastor staring at you like that?

Was it the wrong choice? Did he want nothing to do with his father?

“W-WAH!” It was the most pitiful fucking noise you could probably make, worse than that earlier yelp when Alastor seemed to melt into the floor through a void of shadows and then reappear right in your personal space before you comprehended what happened. That was not the reason you let out a damn bleat before you could help it, though.

Alastor was stroking your ears just as he had done twenty-four years prior.

“A gift from you is always welcome, but this – I never imagined one that would bring me such… joy. Truly, you were always meant for me, my lovely Doe.”

“S-so, I take it you want ownership of his soul?” You struggled to get the words out, feeling your vision blur for a moment. You let out a breath of relief when Alastor reluctantly released your ears, but he didn’t step away from your personal space.

“Yes. I’m more than willing to give you a soul – ten even, in return. Mama may disapprove of it, but I will pay back a thousandfold and more for what that man put her through. He will suffer the worst torture I can possibly think of.” To your amazement, Alastor’s pupils spun into a shape that resembled radio dials before returning to normal.

“It’s a gift. You don’t need to give me anything back in return.” You blinked in surprise when Alastor poked your cheek, pinching it playfully before tutting at you. “What was that?!”

“You have been here longer than me, but it seems I must teach you a few good lessons.” Alastor held out his hand invitingly. “Before this transaction, would you like a tour of my radio tower?”

You placed your hand in his. “You’re going to have to explain it like you would to a child how this radio stuff actually works. I can turn my radio on and change the station, that’s about it.”

Alastor felt that chill that followed him all his life leave him and his smile felt genuine for very few times that it was as he felt your hand wrap around his.

He may be dead and in Hell, but his (after)life was looking rather bright – he still could enjoy his passion for radio and he no longer had to hide his true sadistic nature and homicidal thoughts. Better yet, he could combine the two and broadcast tortured screams for denizens of Hell to hear!

He was powerful and feared, toppling Overlords to become himself in an extremely short period of time and he owned multiple souls to do his bidding whenever and whatever he wanted – and soon, he could add his miserable wretch of a father to his collection to torment all he likes.

Best of all, he finally found you, the demon who made this all possible for him and now that he had you in his grasp, there was no conceivable way he would ever let you elude him. He could certainly give you the illusion of freedom and space if that’s what you wanted.

He was charming, he knew that, it’s all he needed to win you over.

Perhaps it would take a little time and patience, but he would get what he wanted in the end like he always did.

His lovely Doe. His new wife.

It was a dream that Alastor was going to turn into his reality.

----------------------------------------------------------

I hope this ending was satisfying

Tags: @alishii @yourdoorisunlocked @godsent69 @eris-norwega @catticora @tayraedoll @michi-keinz @martinys-world @n0tmentallystable @xalygatorx @everwolf-20 @yui-onnero

[tatorthots]

— promise you’ll forget me

featured: liyue men x fem!reader

cw: generally gn but uses she/her (an itty bit), pet names, angst, hurt/comfort, a sliver of fluff, mention of character death, a little wholesome if you’re delusional enough (me)

synopsis: “When I die, promise me you’ll forget me. Erase me from your memories, bury me in the past, and live.”

a/n: my 3 babygirls + if I caused anyone any distress from this soft angst then let me know !! so I can continue wrecking havoc :)

── ꨄ︎ Xiao

Xiao stared at you, frozen in place and eyes widening as those words fell from your lips. He was in shock, completely baffled at how casually you uttered those words. As if they meant nothing… he grimly thought, As if you could ever mean nothing. His hands trembled, balling them into fists and digging his nails into the back of his palm. Had his silent affection, loving kisses, acts of devotion, and fierce protection not been testament enough to the impact you had on him? Had you not realized that you wielded the same amount of power over him as his previous master had with his true name? The Yaksha was almost amazed at your ignorance. “How dare you speak so carelessly…” he growled. Xiao was already fully aware of the reality of your inevitable death; it’s a truth that even the Conquerer of Demons, himself, adamantly refuses to revisit. He was bitterly aware that your time in Teyvat — your days together — was on borrowed time compared to his. That’s just the fate of a human's life in comparison to an Adeptus. He knew that the day will come when he would be forced to confront the tragic cycle of life and death once again, and if only for the sake of his Archon, he’ll grit his teeth and face it when the time comes. But to ask him to forget you, to erase you from his memories? You, who he cherishes most of all. You, who stealthily slithered into his heart and made a home in the remnants of his damned soul. You, who he foolishly fell in love with. There was no force in this wretched world that could ever submit him to abandon the little joy he was given in his life. And to ask that of him was to condemn him to a far crueler fate than that of the karmic debt he harbors on his shoulders.

Glowering at the wooden floorboards of the Wangshu Inn, Xiaos piercing eyes flickered up at you. “Do not make such absurd requests of me again.” He sneered. Flinching in surprise, you questioningly glanced at your lover. Shifting your gaze down, you noticed the deathly grip he held on the patio's railing and the cracking lines spreading beneath his fingertips. “Xiao… wait, I didn’t mean to—“ but your words were cut short by the solemn glint in his yellow stare. “There are many things I struggle to comprehend about you mortals, so tell me,” attentively, your ears perked up and your breathing paused as he spoke, “could you forget me so easily if I asked you to? Is your affection for me simply…” biting the inside of his cheek, his expression shifted to one of sorrowful hesitation, “temporary?” Your entire body tensed. Xiao had made a bad habit of hiding his less ‘acceptable’ emotions in an attempt to not burden you — no matter how many times you reassured him — so to glimpse at that fragile vulnerability and find the newly seed of doubt you had planted, it made your heart wrench in your chest. You blinked a few times as each flutter of your lashes only gathered more and more wet droplets onto them. “No! Xiao! I would ne-.. ver….” and that’s when you realized the weight of what you had asked him. Rejected.. I made him feel rejected, You internally groaned. Sighing you carefully took a few steps towards him, “Listen to me,” you softly spoke, “I don’t want you to live in mourning after I pass. You don’t deserve that, Xiao,” and his eyes widened, “I want you to be happy,” softening your gaze, you continued, “I want you to continue enjoying the gifts life brings, no matter how big or small they might be!” Standing in front of him, you reached a hand out to gently caress his cheek and dotingly smiled when he instinctively leaned into your touch. “I want you to keep spending time with humans, and one day you may even find new companions who’ll add to your happiness.” Nonsense, he thought. The Adeptus revers you almost as highly as his Archon and you think some feeble companions could ever compare? Xiao placed his hand atop yours and gingerly kissed your palm. His eyes reflected a tender intensity as he peered down at you, “Our connection is too strong, y/n.” his arms wrapped protectively around you, holding you tightly as if he wasn’t careful enough you’d disappear and be gone forever. Xiao hovered his lips above yours as he rested his forehead on you, and closed his eyes, “No matter what challenges time brings, or what you, yourself, try to do to sever our bond,” pressing his lips on yours, he kissed you as he quietly whispered, “I will love you, always.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

417 years have gone by since Xiao last held you in his embrace. And although he was pleased he was able to offer you a long, happy and loving life, Xiao would be blatantly lying if he said he’d moved on from your death. And if not for your last — somewhat reasonable — request, he likely wouldn’t have intervened with the lives of mortals, or reluctantly accepted their friendship. If that was what you truly would’ve wanted for him then he’ll hold his complaints and trust your judgement. It was bittersweet, really. If you were still alive, he knew in his heart you’d be fascinated by these mortals' new technology and inventions; he wonders what you’d say of this new era. And he can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips as he thinks of how you’d fawn over these silly contraptions, There’s no doubt you’d be foolishly fascinated by such simple trinkets, he thinks, but archons what he wouldn’t do to see your eyes sparkle with wonder again. And although Teyvat has undergone infinite changes, there is but one acre of land that the Yaksha has ensured remains untouched by humans, Adeptus or demons alike. It was a sort of sanctuary for him. A place of refuge, meditation, reflection, and heartache; but above all, it was where Xiao would religiously visit to honor the love he had, and continues to have, for you — his one and only. The area was radiant, nothing less than one of Liyues hidden gems. The ground was vibrant with lush grass, lively wildlife, and blanketed with all your favorite flowers; flowers Xiao had helped you plant and nurture. What once started as your personal garden ended up flourishing with vines, plants and new ecosystems. It could honestly be described as a mini forest, and the Adeptus wonders if it’s prosperity is because of you. Either way, you would’ve loved it, and that thought alone was enough. Thinking back, Xiao couldn’t believe he was so ignorant. Initially, he thought the whole custom was silly when Morax first casually mentioned it one day. ‘Marriage, is a unity humans practice as well here in Teyvat. It is a unity between lovers — a ceremonial alliance, if you will.’ To him, the idea seemed pointless, but the thought never left his head since. He’s already submitted himself to you in every way, but if his Archon had advised marriage was also a custom between mortals then perhaps you would like to marry as well. So this sacred area is where you both wed. The beaming smile and buzzing excitement you showed that day was forever engraved in his memories. Xiao still keeps the silver ring you slid on his finger with him. Though as of recent centuries he hasn’t worn it as much in order to preserve its integrity, but sometimes, when he’s laying amidst the swaying grass and reminiscing of times gone past, he’ll slip it on and think of you. On rare occasions the Yaksha would even stage a performance, the way he used to when he danced beneath the moonlight as you watched in awe. Whether sunlight warms his skin, rain splashes on his hair and wets his clothes, or strong currents of the wind whistles loudly through the air, he’ll dance to the natural rhythm of Teyvat. A performance reserved only for you. Other times he’ll rest on a bed of soft moss as his honey eyes gaze at the starry sky till morning illuminates the world once more. Simply remembering the sound of your voice, your touch, your laugh, and he’ll wonder, wherever you are in this vast universe, if you think of him too.

── ꨄ︎ Zhongli

The sound of glass shattering echoed throughout the mountaintop of Mt. Aocang. The traditional, delicately crafted teacup Zhongli held was now shattered into pieces in the palm of his hand, and the tea previously filling it was now spilled all over the god's lap. Unaware that his sudden vise-like grip was to blame for its broken state. He saw your lips move and your body apprehensively patting his clothes dry with a cloth, but he couldn’t hear a thing. Zhongli simply stayed in place as his golden eyes stared at you. Yes, it’s true that the former Geo Archon has encountered countless tragic fates and lost several friends and close relationships to the erosion of time. And it’s only been recent, with the reawakening of Azhdaha, that he had to reluctantly reevaluate and reaccept his cursed fate of eternity until the last remnants of his body eroded back into the stones of old. Azhdaha reminded him his future was pitiful. Doomed to solidarity as punishment for being a God. It was for that exact reason that Zhongli heavily contemplated the idea of entering a relationship with a human for a very long time before officially committing to you. However, it was also through that slow-burn romance that an unexpected love blossomed. Its tender passion awoke a primal instinct that had long laid dormant in the depths of Morax’s innate desires — it caught the Archon, himself, off guard. The love of a God cannot be easily earned or discarded. It entails complete submission, adoration, and devotion. Then again, it might be the reason Zhongli wasn’t avoidant of the inevitable outcome of this relationship. He fully accepted the consequences of his decision if it meant enjoying just a moment of tranquility in your embrace. He’d be willing to endure a thousand years of heartache if it meant hearing your voice just once, and he’d suffer through thousands more if even to kiss the fabric that clung to your body.

Zhongli, blinked from his trance and looked down to see you patting his clothes dry with red fingertips and scathed palms from the burning hot tea. Swiftly, he took hold of your hands and took the cloth away from you. He felt a pang of guilt as he carefully cascaded his thumb across the searing flush of your warmed skin. “I do apologize, my love.” shifting his gaze up to you, he continued, “It seems that your request has taken me aback.” Tightening your hold on his hands, you knitted your brows in worry, “Oh.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.” you pouted. Zhongli removed his gloves, and your attention trailed to the geo marks decorating his golden skin. So pretty, you thought. “There is no need to fret, darling.” His voice was deep and affectionate. An obvious difference compared to the usual somber and nonchalant tone he speaks with, and it made your heart flutter knowing it was only ever exposed to you. But then suddenly, his expression turned serious. “However, that request would be a breach of contract, and I simply, will not break it.” Your eyes widened for a moment before quirking an eyebrow up in question. You momentarily tilted your head in curiosity, and the Archon couldn’t help but feel his gaze soften, just a little, in response to your small habit. Fluttering your eyes on him, you asked, “What contract?” What contract? He silently mused, as if the answer itself was blatantly obvious — which to him, it was. Lowly chucking, he wrapped his large hand around your wrist and slipped his fingertips up to caress your palm. Raising your hand up to his lips, he languidly met your gaze with his adoring one. “If you do not recall, then allow me to remind you.” Closing his eyes, he placed a kiss on your fingertip, “I have sworn myself each time I touch your skin.” He placed a kiss on another, “Each time my mind had been desperately surrendered by thoughts of you.” Then another, fluttering his long lashes, he peered at you with half-lidded eyes as his pupils dilated to slits “In every moment our bodies intimately intertwine together amidst the heat of our love.” Gasping at his sudden confession, your heart sped up in a fervent fluster. He leaned in close, “I am bound to you, my love, for all eternity.” Zhongli kissed you once, and then twice. He placed his hands on your hips and pulled you in, almost urging you to sit on his lap. Deepening the kiss the Geo Archon could only pray his kisses could hope to portray even a sliver of the love he has for you.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

And so a millennium has passed, he hums. 1,231 years to be exact. Since your passing, Zhongli counted each year that came and went. Placing an incense down on the shrine he built in your memory, the Archon kneeled before your golden statue and prayed — he’s not quite sure to who, and he’s not sure if there’s anyone listening, but if there is, he hopes it’s you. Today had been an unusual day given that he doesn’t normally visit your shrine so late in the evening, but no matter what he did it seemed like unforeseen circumstances kept getting in the way of his preplanned visit. And after several attempts of trying to untangle himself from piling responsibilities, he sighed and decided it was best to just visit you by the end of today no matter what or who dared get in his way. Which brings us to now. However, shortly after he started his peaceful meditation, he was disturbed by someone’s quiet shuffles behind him. Fluttering his eyes open, his sharp gaze glared in the direction the noise was coming from. Even though it’s location wasn’t necessarily private, this shrine was his personal alter of worship, a private haven, who the hell was foolish enough to intrude on its sacred premises? Snapping his head around, his menacing gaze immediately widened into one of pure shock. It surely.. can’t be..? He muttered in disbelief. “Oh! I’m sorry I-um- I didn’t realize someone was here!” The voice awkwardly spoke, and as they turned to leave, his lips moved before he could realize he was talking, “What’s your name?” Blinking in surprise, the woman sheepishly rubbed the back of her neck, “Ah. I’m h/n, heh.” Walking closer she carefully inspected the handsome man as he stared at her like she was some sort of ghost. “Is this your shrine?” Looking up at the statue she softly smiled, “I’ve been coming here for weeks.” she confessed, and Zhongli slowly stood from his position. It’s her. The depths of the dragons innate need for his mate had violently awoken from its slumber, and he felt the bond he mourned for centuries, suddenly call out to each and every one of his senses. It’s her. Your reincarnation. Lighting her own stick of incense and bowing, the woman — you — glanced back at him, “I found this place by accident, and I bring my own incense to pay my respects as well. But honestly, I don’t know why I come here.” You chuckled. “Maybe it’s because her statue looks similar to me, or maybe … it’s because I can’t help but feel like this place calls to me.” Shaking your head, you bashfully looked away, “Sounds crazy, right?” “No.. no, not at all….” Softening his gaze, he offered a smile. There’s no mistaking it. I can sense her soul, years of longing and heartache clutched his heart, I could recognize it anywhere. And so the both of you spent the evening chatting away over tea the man you came to know as ‘Zhongli’ had prepared, and when nighttime shadowed the streets you both politely took your leaves. Zhongli deeply considered whether or not he should look for you again, but he soon realized he couldn’t bring himself to disrupt the new life you had built — even if it didn’t include him. He told himself he was happy, satisfied knowing your soul had returned even if every cell in his body painfully yearned to be with his lover again. Being given the opportunity to drink tea with you should be privilege enough. It wasn’t until you visited the shrine early one morning that you finally found him. After a brief catch-up, he noticed you nervously shifting, “Is something the matter?” He worriedly asked. With a deep breathe you confessed what’d been on your mind since your last encounter. “Have we met before?” You began, and his entire body froze, “I know this might seem strange but…” and unconsciously his body leaned in closer as his primal instincts begged him to caress your skin once more, but he forced himself rooted. Until you uttered a single sentence and momentarily tilted your head in curiosity that he felt his heart struck, and daresay, even gave the god hope. “I can’t help but feel like…. I’ve met you before, a long time ago.”

── ꨄ︎ Childe

Strumming his fingertips, Childe hummed in contemplation. He’s well aware of the repercussions that come with being 11th of the Fatui Harbingers, and he’s hyper-aware of the vile leverage his enemies would try to obtain when discovering the infamous Harbinger has taken a lover. However, the thing about Childe is that he actually openly welcomes his enemies to try to even get remotely near you. Honestly, your request is just straight-up hilarious to him. But he supposes he can’t blame you. After all, you haven’t a clue of the extent your lover has and, even as you ask, is taking to ensure your safety. It’s stressful, really, but the man loves challenges — “Let them come, let them ALL come!” He manically laughs, before lowering his head, “I’ll kill them all where they stand.” he snarls. Every loud and flamboyant confession, every playful kiss, every subtle caress of your skin, and each lingering touch holds an ulterior motive aside from just affection. It’s a warning. But you never noticed, have you? While you’re pushing him away in a flustered daze, you don’t notice how his cheeky smile and crescent eyes fall the second you turn in a huff and his gaze narrows to a sinister glare — directly locking eyes with the spies creeping atop rooftops. How he never directly answers your questions when he disappears for a few minutes only to return scathed and sometimes even bleeding. Brushing away your worry with a tender smile as he pinches your cheek, “Heh, don’t worry so much!” He’ll coo. Your request isn’t even an option. Childe would die for you, kill for you, live for you. He’ll do whatever it takes to stand above a pile of bloody corpses if only to force them to bow before you. You, the promised ruler of the world he’ll craft. And should you fall, he would build his empire on the blood of millions just to keep his promise.

Childes eyes glimmered in amusement as he threw his head back and laughed. “Hahah—!! You really do have an active imagination babe!” Playfully ruffling your hair, he chuckled, “C’mon now, don’t say such nonsense.” His lips curled into a beaming smile, but you could tell by the edge laced in his words that he meant what he said. Huffing, you smacked his hand away, “I’m not joking, Ajax!” Sighing, you turned away in embarrassment, “I’m being…. I’m being serious, alright?” Pausing, Childe furrowed his brows, “You’re serious?” Rolling your eyes, you marched away feeling flustered and annoyed by your lover's reaction, “Yes! I’m being serious!” Normally, the incredulous stare Childe gave you would’ve made you tease him in any other situation, but as of now it only added to the searing burn on your cheeks. Following behind you, he grabbed your arm to stop you and delicately tugged you to look at him. “Hey, what are you saying?” Turning around, you were met with narrowed blue eyes and a frown, “Are you calling me weak?” And as much as you wanted to stay mad at him, you couldn’t help but crack a smile at his accusatory tone and pouty lips. Intertwining your fingers with his you stepped toward him until your face was only inches away from his pretty glaring eyes. Running your fingertips against his jaw, you lightly traced them across his freckled skin until you reached his messy, orange hair, “The only thing I think you are is dumb.” You lovingly purred. Scoffing he averted his gaze from yours. “Listen, Ajax,” you started, “I know you worry about me, and yes, even though you’re the strongest man I know—“ “Ever will know.” He corrected. Giggling you flicked his forehead, “Ever will know~” you repeated, before you cleared your throat and steeled your gaze, “If I do pass… promise me you’ll live for yourself, okay? Take care of yourself, and no matter what, don’t let my memory hold you back.” Hold me back? He chuckled. Gently placing both hands on your cheeks, he guided your head to fully face him, “Your life makes me feel alive, y/n, and if the day comes — which it won’t,” he sternly emphasized, “your memory will only serve as the reason I fight to survive.” Pulling you into his protective embrace he buried his face in your soft locks, “I’ll keep you safe.”

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

720 days. That’s 720 archon-forsaken days, and sleepless nights. It was clear to all, that a part of Childe never quite recovered the day he found your lifeless body lying alongside the jagged edges of stone slabs resting beneath a mountain cliff side. The image of your body lying still as a pool of your blood gushed from your mutilated wounds onto the unforgiving surface of the rocks became a memory deeply embedded in the Harbingers mind. Then again, perhaps it wasn’t something inside him that had shattered, but instead completely disappeared. Even now, he still feels likes he’s quietly being haunted by the agonizing screams he cried and tears that he endlessly shed as he held your bloody corpse in his possessive and shaky embrace. However, all of that paled in comparison to the unsettling numbness that nestled within his bones and tainted his heart when he caught sight of the item that dropped from your hand as he cradled you. It was mocking. Taunting, even. “The pendant…” he spoke, barely above a whisper. She protected.. the pendant I gave her? His azure stare darkened as the very last of his compassion died right there and then. Now they only harbored hatred and desolation. Reaching to pick up the pendant, Childe carefully brushed the blood staining it with his gloved thumb. This was the gold entwined, jade pendant he had gifted you during the firework showcase of your first Lantern Rite with him. It was intended as a good luck token — a marker of sorts. He promised you that so long as you held this pendant, he would always come to protect you; your lover vowed this. His breath trembled, and his jaw clenched as he glared at it with blurry eyes. He couldn’t help but wonder, Was she waiting for me, choking out a sob his fingers combed through your hair as he rested his forehead on yours and salty tears dripped down your cheek, to protect her? And that thought alone was enough to sever the remaining domestic threads of his heart. For the next two years, Childe spent every waking moment tracking your killer. His obsession only further manifested as time went by. Even his work as a Fatui Harbinger strained, yet none were brave enough to tell him otherwise. Either because of fear, or because the Tsaritsa ordered it so. During that time there were those who argued that Childe had gone on a blind rampage, and others argued the Harbinger became the vengeful embodiment of a man of focus, commitment, and sheer will. To be honest? Neither were completely right or wrong. He never hurt bystanders, yet he never hesitated slaughtering anyone who got in his way. As for those foolish enough to mislead him or hold information? Well, they suffered a fate worse than death. It wasn’t until he found himself deep within the shadowy crevices of the chasm that he finally met your murderer. It was a wretched demon that had ripped you away from him, a crime even death was too good for. The accumulated rage of a fallen God was nothing compared to the murderous hatred he harbored. In the end, Childe came victorious — albeit at the cost of his own life. Sliding against weathered stone, he sat down and aimlessly stared at the curvatures of the chasm. “Seems I couldn’t keep my promise, huh?” He chuckled, “Don’t be too mad at me.” Wincing in pain, he slipped out the pendent he gifted you from his Foul Legacy’s armor as he felt his eyelids grow heavy. Kissing it’s cold exterior, he took a breathy sigh, “Please, wait for me,” fluttering his eyes shut, a line of blood dribbled from his lips as he smiled, “just a little…. longer..”

side note!: new format ! let’s goooooooooo

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[lonely-lost-soul]

Day 2: Tengen and Rengoku

Day 2: Threesome

Tengen licked his lips, staring intently at the young lady in the entertainment district's kiosk before him. By his side was his most trusted friend, Rengoku, who seemed to be intently staring at the same woman, the way her hips moved as she walked, her shyness evident as the lady of the house seemed to fix up her hair. Almost scolding her as if she wasn't presentable enough as a lady. Uzui thought the hag couldn't be more wrong, “Are you positive your wives won’t mind that we are here?” The man asked, adjusting his leg slowly, one of his permanent injuries from the battle of Akaza. In his own opinion, he was much better off than Tengen; his friend had lost one of his eyes. But both men were forced into an early retirement from the Demon Slayers due to their injuries. Tengen only laughed, turning to face the man, 

“I already told them I’m scoping out another wife, either for me or you." He winked, causing Kyojuro to laugh from his chest, "The main thing they’re not happy about is me returning to this district.” Tengen snorted, hair falling prettily in front of his face, and Rengoku looked at him with a smile, 

“If it’s alright with them, then it’s alright with me! So long as everyone is treated with proper respect!” He shouted, pounding a fist to the palm of his hand before reaching forward to tuck a strand of hair behind Tengen’s ear like a good friend would. Tengen snorted, wrapping an arm around his companion, 

“If you were a girl. You’d be my fourth wife without a doubt.” Rengokou beamed with pride, 

“I’d be honored! And accept without hesitation!”

“Flashy!” 

“Excuse me, the lady of the house said you requested me,” Your soft voice spoke, causing them both to turn to look at you. You were even prettier up close than you were from afar, hair elegantly styled, red and gold kimono covering you just as elegantly, makeup placed flawlessly on your cheeks and eyes, “I’m at your service.”

Tengen hummed, better with words than Kyojuro, “Please sit and enjoy a cup of sake with us for now. We paid for the night, relax.” Rengoku shot Tengen a questioning look, knowing they’d spent a lot of money on you. They'd free you from this wretched district if all went well tonight. You looked slightly surprised at the offer and moved to sit down, “Pretty thing, not there in between us.” Rengoku saw your cheeks burn as you sat beside the two men; Tengen leaned back with a grin, bringing sake to his lips, “What’s your name?” 

You told them your first name, fluttering your pretty eyelashes at the both of them. “I’m Rengoku Kyojuro; if we are going by first names, feel free to call me Kyojuro!” He chipped, grinning fondly at the woman, “This is Uzui.” The silver-haired man winked, “We’re here to make love to you!”

“H-huh?” You sputtered, and Tengen spat out his drink, choking on it, “I-I mean…” You smile shyly, “That’s quite the demand.” 

“Kyo-” Tengen hissed, pressing his fingers to his nose, “Do you even know subtly? So unflashy?”

“No!” He hummed proudly, “The best way to communicate your point is directly and honestly! This also gives our little spark room to decline if she needed to.” Tengen couldn’t deny that point; they weren’t monsters. After all, you’d always have a choice. “Will you spend the night with us?” 

You eyed the two men before you; they were former demon slayers. Even in casual clothes, word spread about the silver-haired man who solely saved this district from two demons and the man with hair of fire who saved all the innocents on the Mugen Train. Honestly, you couldn’t say no to them, not that you wanted to; these men were probably the two most attractive men you’ve ever encountered. “Yes,” you nodded, “it would be my pleasure.” 

“Not your pleasure, little one,” Tengen hummed, kissing your hand softly, “It’s truly our pleasure to be accepted by a beauty such as you.” He delighted in how your face turned a beautiful color as you were flustered. “Come, let's go somewhere a little more private,” He purred, helping you to your feet before turning to his friend and helping him stumble. 

“Ah, my apologies.” Rengoku smiled nervously, “My legs aren’t what they used to be, I'm afraid. But I assure you my performance regarding intimacy is not hindered.” 

“Kyojuro.” Uzui groaned, “She did not need to know that. I’m sure she wasn’t questioning your sexual prowess.” Both men stopped as you giggled, opening the door to the private room, the kimono falling off your shoulders seductively. Exposing your shoulder blades and the swell of your breasts, Tengen shut up almost immediately, eyes training down your body. 

“Beautiful!” Kyojuro praised, hobbling into the room, hands finding your waist, and you helped to balance him as he stumbled into you. “You’re beautiful!” His eyes burned like fire; staring into your own, he captured your lips in a quick kiss, and your cheeks flushed. 

“I’m sure you could find prettier girls here, but thank you-” You squeaked, feeling the other man’s arms wrapped around your waist from behind. His hair tickled your cheeks as his chin rested on your head, 

“Is that self-depreciation I hear?” Uzui mused from behind you, his hands slowly moving up to slide up to cup your breasts tenderly, “because you’re the only one here who caught our eye.” His large hands palmed your breasts, massaging them and causing you to lean against his body. “This is perfect, you are perfect, right Kyo?” 

“Absolutely!” Kyojiro hummed as Tengen slid your kimono down, exposing yourself to the men before you. The room's cold air made your nipples perk up as Kyojiro buried his face between them; his warm lips against your skin made you shiver. “I never wanna leave,” He purred, squishing his head between your chest and pressing kitten kisses to the sensitive area, causing you to mewl. 

“Look at you. Enjoying yourself?” Tengen snickered as you looked up at him through wet lashes, 

“Y-yes-” You breathed, stretching your neck up, “kiss me?” 

“You don’t need to ask twice.” Uzui leaned down to capture your lips with his own, and his lips were skilled as his tongue slipped inside your mouth. You groaned against him as your tongues battled for dominance; yours was easily overpowered. Your fingers tangled themselves in Rengoku’s hair, and the embodiment of sunshine purred, biting the skin on your breasts. You moaned hotly as he trailed marks across your chest, allowing your kimono to open fully as he continued his way downward toward your core. You pulled away from Tengen’s lips to choke out a moan, feeling Rengoku’s tongue prod at your entrance. He hissed a little, trying to settle on his bad knee, and Tengen clicked his tongue, “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

“I’m not; this is worth it.” Kyo grinned and attacked your center like a man starved; you tossed your head back and moaned with delight. Uzui had to catch you as your legs melted against Rengoku’s mouth and tongue. 

“He has no self-preservation truly,” Tengen mused, watching you squeeze your legs around his comrade's head, which only egged him further, his fingers coming up to massage your clit. “You’re just that intoxicating, lovely,” His mouth latched itself onto your neck, nipping and kissing at the sensitive spots there, which only fueled your moans louder. Kyojiro pulled away, lips glistening with your arousal, 

“Umai!” You giggle, hands gently threading through his flame-colored hair, “Uzui!’ He shouted, “She’s close may I make her cum on my tongue?” 

“Don’t ask me; ask the lady you’re eating out.” Kyo looked at you with the most enormous puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen, 

“Yes. Please let me cum, Kyo.” Kyojiro grinned before looking at Tengen, who rolled his eyes. He knew what that look meant. You won’t be able to continue after Rengoku had his way with you, but it was fine you were coming back with them after all; you can cum on his cock another time. With a nod from Uzui, he dove back in between your legs; you moaned hotly as you felt his fingers begin to pump in and out of your pussy working in tandem with his tongue. You felt warm pressure as you yelped a little, standing up straighter, riding Kyojiro’s mouth. His fingers started heating up inside you, and your legs trembled in ecstasy. 

“That’s what he does,” Tenegn purred, “use his breathing technique to last a while, heating his fingers for maximum pleasure.” Uzui continued to play with your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers and enjoying the loud sounds you made against his shoulder. “You feel it, don’t you? His tongue works wonders inside your throbbing pussy, the heat as you clench on Kyo’s face.” You could only nod as Rengoku’s fingers found the spongy spot inside you and began to pound into it repeatedly with his fingers. Wet sounds of pleasure filled the room as you shuddered, coming around the man’s face with a cry, suffocating the man between your thighs. This time when Rengoku pulled away, he looked horny and dizzy, with a red face, 

“Holy. Shit.” a shit-eating grin spread across his lips, “You almost killed me between your thighs. What a way that would’ve been, aye Uzui?”

“Lucky bastard.” Tengen scoffed as you lay limp against his muscular body, shuddering in the aftershocks of your orgasm. “Let’s rest now, little one; we can continue in the morning.”

[a-dauntless-daffodil]

Emily: “I’m really sorry Vaggie didn’t feel comfortable coming back here. If there’s anything I can do to change that-”

Charlie: “Probably not! It was kinda a sign of her endless love for me that she visited haven again at all!”

Emily: “Oh! Oh that’s nice!!”

Charlie: “Which I NEVER would have asked her to do anyway, if I’d KNOWN the truth about her history up here!”

Emily: “Right. I’m so sorry about that too, by the-”

Charlie: “I mean, I’m not the kind of girl who askes her girlfriend to go spend an afternoon sitting across from the people who ripped off her wings! And her eye! And left her slumped against a dumpster looking half dead!”

Emily: “A… dumpster?”

Charlie: “Making the woman you love relive all that without even rEALIZING it would be pretty fucked up, wouldn’t it??”

Emily: “V- very.”

Charlie: “IT HYPOTHETICALLY COULD MAKE SOMEONE FEEL KINDA TERRIBLE AFTERWARDS, DON’T YOU THINK?”

Emily: “I’m sure it did!”

Charlie: “H Y P O T H E T I C A L L Y”

Emily: “Could! I could see that, yes, if it HAD happened, that would’ve been…”

Emily: “…”

Emily: “Are you- um, is she, errr.. doing better now?”

Charlie: “SO much better she’s doing SO great these days!!!!”

IN HELL

Vaggie: (lying face down on the hotel lobby floor) “I promise I won’t stop helping you morons when she dumps me. I won’t let her dream die just because I was dumb enough to think I could be part of it.”

Angel Dust: “That’s nice toots.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Angel Dust: “Not sad or stupidly gay or anythin’.”

Vaggie: “Thanks.”

Cherri Bomb: “Sad? Angie, it’s perfect!” (takes picture) “I’ve been thinking this place could use a new rug…”

Niffty: (stepping on vaggie) “Squishy!”

Husk: “Get the fuck off her.” (at vaggie) “You, get the fuck UP.”

Vaggie: “Why.”

Alastor: “Hmmm, because this is PAINFULLY pathetic to watch, even for me?”

Vaggie: “Guess I’ll be here forever then.”

Angel Dust: “Vag-GAY c’mon, ya girlfirend’s not gonna dump ya. What’s the competition even!?”

Vaggie: “There’s an angel up in heaven who's helping Charlie work towards her life long dreams as we speak, and she's taller than me, got more wings than me, not as stabby as me, and also not a mass murderer or a liar or missing an eye.”

Cherri Bomb: "Hey!"

Vaggie: "No offence to the other one-eyed ladies here, but it's different when you've got a fucked up empty eye socket."

Niffty: (sighs dreamily) "I bet losing it hurt soooo baaaaad..."

Vaggie: "Never telling my girlfriend why I'd actually lost it or how it made me look like the deranged murder angel I was, even while she tried kissing it better for me, ended up hurting way worse."

Angel Dust: “That's a point….”

Angel Dust: “...alright, so Charlie’s PROBABLY not gonna dump ya-”

Niffty: “Oh that’s a weird sound!” (giggling) (bounces on vaggie) “I think she’s dying~”

Husk: “If you fucks kill her, I’m telling her demon princess girlfriend and pouring myself a drink to go with your fucking tormented howls.”

Vaggie: (muffled) “what if she’s my ex-girlfriend”

Husk: “…I’ll pour you a fucking drink and listen to your tormented howls.”

Niffty: “ME TOO I’LL LISTEN TOO!”

Alastor: “Dear one, perhaps if you were NOT standing on her skull and compressing her WRETCHED cries into the floor, we could be hearing them already.”

Niffty: “Whoops~ Heheheeh~”

Cherri Bomb: (recording it) “Damn, that groan’s been going on for ages… Bitch has some lung capacity on her.”

Angel Dust: “Point one for Vag-gay! Probs as good eating out as ya are at HOLDING out on ya girl!!!”

Vaggie: “uuuughhh…uaauuugghhaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaahhhhrrrgh..” (whimpers)

Niffty: “Okay.” (GIGGLES) “NOW she’s dying~” (bounces)

IN HEAVEN

Charlie: “Everything’s totally fine I have NO idea why you’d even ASK!”

Emily: “You’ve spent the entire time up here staring at pictures of Vaggie on your phone?”

Charlie: “I’m allowed to look at my girlfriend!”

Emily: “While crying and sniffling into your sleeve?”

Charlie: (sobbing) (desperately patting down her jacket) “SHE’S THE ONLY ONE WHO KNOWS WHICH OF MY POCKETS HAS THE HANDKERCHIEF IN IT, OKAY??”

Emily: (smiling) “I think you two are going to be just fine.”

Charlie: (BLOWS NOSE LOUDLY INTO JACKET SLEEVE, which catches on FIRE)

Emily: “…..not your clothes, though. You might need a new set of those.”

[urfavlarry]

Fallen Blessings

Alastor x fallen angel!reader

warnings: none!

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 📻 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Alastor stood behind you, hand on your hip as he watched with a insane looking smile as all of hell fall into panic as the angelic exterminaion began. A white angelic light emited hells lonely streets, thousands and thousands of exterminators flying down like hungry animals. “So much for being ‘angelic beings’.” You think to yourself and scoff. Alastor twirls you around, smirking down at you. You stared at him without a bit of expression on your face, examining every inch of his face. Slow jazz music starts to play, Alastor swaying with you as loud screams start to echo through the pride ring. Your mind was else where as Alastor dipped you, your head barely above the ground. You think about how heaven once was, your once pearly white wings were a gray, almost black color, the tips of your feathers still a vibrant gold. You never could have imagined that heaven, a paradise where most of humanity wishes to end up after death would decide on such a cruel thing as exterminations. You get pulled back into reality when Alastor cups your cheek, making your once innocent eyes look into his crimson ones. He pinches your cheek making you wince.

“What’s bothering you mon chéri?” He says and you shrug, looking back at the ruckus outside. “It’s nothing love, just thinking about.. heaven.” You say and he laughs out loud, making you look at him with a raised brow. “Oh but whatever for? You’ve got me down here in this wretched place, don’t you?” He says and you nod, leaning your head on his chest, swaying a bit more slowly. “Just wonder of how things would be if I managed to convince the high Seraphim to stop those exterminations, or if I never even found out about them in the first place.” You say making him stop in his tracks as if he just got frozen in place. He grabs you by the shoulders and looks you in the eyes. “You never told me about this?” He asks with a curious smile, leading you to the couch in the hotels library. He looks at you expectantly, looking like a child that’s about to find out about the tooth fairy, which was a funny sight since this is the radio demon we’re talking about here.

So you tell him about the events before getting thrown out of the eternal paradise they call heaven. Getting caught listening to a conversation the first human; Adam and the high Seraphim; Sera were having about hells overpopulation. You weren’t caught for being loud, no, no. You were too naive to think there wasn’t an angel right on the other side of the door who heard your little gasp after finding about the exterminations. And so you were thrown out, which was a bit stupid considering they added another soul to the already overpopulated hell. Alastor laughed, commenting on how reckless the angels were which you somewhat agreed to. “Maybe things could’ve been different, and maybe that whole event is the reason why i’m here in this hotel. I doubt it will work but I have hopes for the girl. She’s smart but she has a long way to go to achieve this dream, if it’s even possible.” You rant, fiddling with your fingers and look anywhere but at Alastor. He puts a hand on yours, squeezing it lightly as comfort. You open your mouth to speak but get interrupted by Alastor. “They were reckless to kick out such a heavenly soul into hells streets.” He starts making your stomach turn. “They have no idea what a blessing they lost.” Your cheeks redden as he kisses your cheek, pulling you closer by the waist.

“You’re a true angel mon amour, when I saw you I thought I was getting redeemed into heaven that’s how heavenly you are.”

｡ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ ⋆ ˚⋆⋆ ｡

╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 📻 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 24: 𝐒𝐄𝐗 𝐏𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍

title: milk me synopsis: usually demons' poisons just kill whoever was affected by them. this time, it served for something else. something way better. [2.1K] cw: established relationship, eye patch!kyojuro, crystal hashira!reader, sex pollen, public sex, pussy drunk, forced orgasms, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), p in v, dacryphilia, spit, nipple stimulation, accidental voyeurism (we'll say: sorry miss shinobu).

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Monsters, echoed in the demon’s head as he ran deeper into the forest. His arm reattached to his body, fully healed but burning still. With human blood dripping from his mouth, he cursed the slayers after him. Monsters. All of them.

The bastard decided where his body would rot. He was the one to decide over his path. Lurking among the branches, you waited. Concealed by the night, Kyojuro chased. And as the demon laughed, believing to have outwitted the slayers, fire and crystal cut through his neck in union.

Blood burned into ashes on your nichirin sword. As the head rolled, you gazed at the starless sky. Using the moon as a reference, you knew this hunt was too easy. “It’s not even midnight yet”, you frowned. “Sanemi spoke the truth on our last meeting. Those slayers begged for our help to end this weak thing?”

Hypnotized by your presence, Kyojuro cupped your cheek. The head between you two screamed and cursed, but his voice meant nothing for Kyojuro. Talking is a privilege for the living, and he won’t allow a beast to stop him from admiring you.

“Only because of your flawless strategy, flame of my heart!” Kyojuro laughed, thumb caressing your lower lip. He blatantly ignored your last statement, determined to not let worries take you away from him. “How glad I am to fight beside you!”

To feel his hand full of scars, hear his voice full of love, made you come back to the present. Kyojuro knows how easy it’s for you to get lost inside of your own head. Soothing you back into reality, you were the flying pipe and Kyojuro the stone.

How could you care about any other thing when Kyojuro burns this bright? All concerns about the level of those new slayers were quickly forgotten. Moving your face, you kissed his open palm. He was so warm. Welcoming.

“You flatter me.”

“I only speak the truth”, Kyojuro pulled you closer. “As you deserve.”

Peace was disturbed as bones cracked. You looked down to find the demon’s jaw wide open, tongue contorting as he choked on it. You assumed it was agony, but Kyojuro recognized it as a last act of violence. From stroking your face, Kyojuro spared no strength to shove you as far away as he could.

You were about to do the same to him.

As you rose from the ground a heavy, yellow mist came out from the demon’s mouth. Covering your face with your emerald haori, to hear his coughs made your heart stir. The more desperate Kyojuro becomes, the more this pollen will infiltrate his nostrils. The more this wretched demon would hurt your dear Kyo.

In an act of pure logic, you kicked the head away. In an act of pure hatred, you did so with so much strength the head exploded in pieces against a tree trunk.

You turned around in time to see Kyojuro’s nose scrunching.

The pollen was already gone, scattered in the wind. You let go of your haori and held his chin, looking for blisters or burns were the mist touched. As you moved him closer to you, Kyojuro sighed.

More carefully now, you tilted his head. Moonlight revealed his flushed cheeks, forehead already soaked with sweat. His owl eye, always brimming with excitement and joy, never looked so dark. You found nothing. Not a wound, not a scratch.

“Focus”, you demanded, voice stern. Now you weren’t his wife, only a hashira telling a hurt person what to do. “Slow down your heartbeat. Fight the fever. Kyojuro, I need you to breath.”

That damned thing. You doubt that demon could create anything stronger than a common poison. After a whistle, your crow landed on your shoulder. Looking into its purple eyes, you gave the instructions to warn Shinobu of your position.

“Kyo!” You almost lost balance when he collapsed against you. “Listen to me! You need to keep on breathing.”

His arms intertwined around your waist, his hold so tight you could feel his chest moving up and down with every shaky breath. Kyojuro’s knees failed, his weight making you stumble back.

Your mind was a torturous place right now.

Usually, he would fight back. If only his body was threatened, Kyojuro would have stopped that poison by now, but it clearly affected his mind too. You can’t count on Kyojuro tonight. He needs you now.

The best thing is for Kyojuro to get healed immediately, and the only one that can assure that is Shinobu. You want to take him in your arms and run. The sudden movement, the change in temperature, his aching lungs. You want to run, but maybe that would only work to weaken Kyojuro even more. But to stay here, holding a suffering Kyojuro in the hopes of being found? That would make you insane!

And again, you were the pipe flying away, lost in the winds of your head. You need your stone. You need Kyojuro to be fine again.

Kyojuro inhaled deeply your scent, and for a moment you thought he learned how to deal with the poison. Him shamelessly ravishing on your skin made you second thought that.

“Dear”, you whimpered. Trying to move Kyojuro away, you stumbled back once more. This time, Kyojuro stepped forward, putting more of his weight on top of you. “Kyo… What are you doing?”

His warm tongue licked the crook of your neck, tasting your sweat. His nose brushed against you, drowning in your perfume.

“I am hungry”, Kyojuro whimpered, mouth closing around the sensitive skin where your shoulder and neck meet. His lips, soft and plump, stole a little whimper from you. “I burn for you.”

At that, your eyes widened. Aphrodisiacs! That explains why those slayers were so quick to avert his curious gaze and your careful touch. Why they cried as they moved, although they carried no wound. Why you feel something poking at your belly.

His teeth sank on your neck, expelling every thought from your mind. It was strong enough to bring you to tears. A deep moan echoed through the night; a sound so primal a part of you mistook it from an animal’s doing.

Your heartbeat increased, and you knew Kyojuro heard it too.

“Kyojuro Rengoku,” you hissed. It made him froze. “You need to stop.”

Taken back from your harsh tone, Kyojuro tilted his head towards yours. You were mad at him. No, no, no, no! That… That can’t be. He can’t make you suffer. He promised to never make you suffer.

“Forgive me,” he begged. Kyojuro sounded more like himself. Still clouded, flying like a pipe, but real. Caring.

In a merciful act, the moon shone over you two. And in its glow, you saw Kyojuro crying. Heavy tears rolled down his face, sobs forcing out of him.

The great flame hashira reduced to such a beautiful mess.

“I need you”, Kyojuro whimpered. He closed his eyes, all the voices in his head bringing him step by step closer to the abyss. “I feel as if… As if I will go insane if I don’t have you. I am… sorry.” You saw fire inside his eye, heard certainty on his voice. “I just need to… Yes, my flame, I just need to…”

His warmth turned into heat, and Kyojuro moved before you could decide over your next action. Not a second later your back was on the ground, eyes wide as you stared at the predator lurking above you.

Kyojuro kneeled down, thighs closed between your legs. His rough hands tugged at your haori, trembling as he pulled it apart. Like a beast, Kyojuro cut through all the fabrics between you two. He stopped when your breasts spilled out, nipples hard as the wind touched them.

His deep breath made you pay more attention to Kyojuro’s details. Fingers hesitant to touch your skin. Tears staining his face. Lips open, drool falling over you. The sound of his pitiful cries pierced your skull.

Without any words, Kyojuro begged. He begged for your forgiveness. For your help. For you. And how could you deny Kyojuro of what he wants so badly?

“Do it”, you said. You allowed. Supporting your weight on your elbows, back leaving the ground, you bit your tongue. “Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you, my flame”, Kyojuro cried. So beautiful. “Thank you, thank you.”

His warm mouth closed around your nipple, eyes widening as he sucked on it. His fingers yanked the other, rolling it between his fingertips with just the right pressure.

Kyojuro bit your shoulder, this time less feral. It wasn’t possessive, only a need to have you between his teeth. Marking your bust, leaving not a single inch untouched and unmarked, he covered you on his spit.

He is a selfless lover in a way the most selfish one could appreciate. There isn’t a single moment Kyojuro doesn’t think about your pleasure. He is always seeking for it, drowning himself on you and only coming back to surface when you beg for rest. It’s nothing but a mere coincidence that Kyojuro takes his own pleasure from yours.

The more you whined, hips twitching beneath his broad body, the more Kyojuro gave to you. You hissed when his teeth closed around your wet nipples, and Kyojuro saw that as a sign he needed to keep going.

Even in this condition, your man really can’t bear having an empty mouth.

Kyojuro bended your legs, feet high on the air, laying down on the ground. He forced your thighs to close around his head, fingers drawing circles on your hips. You felt his shaky breath against your ignored cunt.

“Itadakimasu,” Kyojuro whispered. Not for you, but for your pussy.

And so, he dived into you. There was no technique, no method on the way his tongue moved. And that’s why you always loved to have his head between your legs. With Kyojuro, you never felt as if your time was running out. As if you had to be quick, so he would finally feel pleasure too. Eating you out, Kyojuro never thought about the quickest way to get you to cum.

He does that for himself. Tongue deep into your walls, Kyojuro rejoices. Teeth pulling at your clit, Kyojuro salivates. Every noise that you make, from sheepish whimpers to weary cries, is a full meal for this hungry man.

You’re in for a long night.

Kyojuro licked your slit restlessly. In his place, your jaw would stumble. His big tongue slipped inside of it, back to his home. The soft and trained muscle, curling at the perfect spot inside of you.

But he never stayed inside of you for long enough, as another part of your glistening cut looked deserving of his attention too. Torturing you, all you did was pull his golden hair and take it.

After the fourth orgasm, his fingers filling you up without mercy, your mouth hanged open. You couldn’t close it. You couldn’t remember to close it. All you wanted, all you could think about, was for Kyojuro to have his fill. To get better. To just drown already and let you rest.

“Inside of me”, your voice echoed, but you had no time to be embarrassed about your screams. Pushing his head away, you tried to bargain with his desire. “Just get inside of me already, Kyojuro!”

But he refused you. Nodding, Kyojuro nuzzled at your core. Impatient, you groaned and pulled his hair harshly.

Kyojuro saw you. All of you. The redness of your tearful eyes. The bite marks around your collarbone. Those half-closed eyes, tired but energized still. Those breasts moving up and down, up and down.

“Now”, you ordered, clenching your teeth.

As if he would be punished by disobeying you, Kyojuro freed his leaking cock and pulled you closer. Rigid for you, sensitive because of all the pleasure he gave you, ready for you.

Your flame hashira, more than ready to burn you alive.

His body was on top of yours, involving you completely, as he thrusted into your walls. He licked your lips, eye as heavy as yours. “You taste so good”, he said against your mouth. “The best meal I ever had.”

Looking into his eyes, you melted. Your legs shaken around his hips; eyes rolled back as Kyojuro used you to get off. Watching Kyojuro finally fell apart, head finding solace in the crook of your neck, you smiled. “Better?”

A husky laugh vibrated through you. “Better.”

Shinobu thanked darkness for hiding her burning cheeks.

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[miharuki]

𝖄𝖆𝖓𝖉𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖁𝖎𝖑𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖓 𝕻𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖈𝖊 𝖃 𝕽𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗 (𝕱𝖊𝖒) 3

Offical theme nomura

A butler hurried through the vast mansion, carrying the morning’s correspondence for his masters. Arriving at the head of the household’s study, he stopped, straightened his attire, and composed himself professionally before knocking on the door.

“Come in,” came the voice of an older man from within. Entering as instructed, the butler held out the stack of letters that had arrived that morning. He stopped before the desk and lifted the pile. “Sir, your correspondence has arrived. However, there is one letter in particular that I believe may interest you.” The lord of the house took the pile of letters and leafed through them, reading the names of each sender, until he came upon a blue envelope with golden accents. His gaze dropped to the golden handwriting on it: Nomura L. Néantazur.

“Call (Mother’s Name) immediately,” he ordered. The butler bowed and left the study. “What could that demon possibly want this time?” he muttered under his breath.

“Why would he send us a letter like this?” asked the woman, standing beside her husband and fanning herself in distress.

“I don’t know,” he replied, disdain evident in his voice. “I’d bet it’s about that brat again.” The man sneered before taking a letter opener and carefully slicing open the cyan envelope. As he read the elegantly penned words, spelling out Nomura’s intent with the utmost formality, his wife couldn’t contain herself.

“He wants what?!” she shrieked, collapsing into the chair in front of her husband, hand on her forehead in despair.

“To think that little disgrace could catch his attention,” the man muttered, setting the letter down and glancing out the window at a small house hidden within the gardens, far from the main mansion.

“It wasn’t enough to keep her on our property? We had to apologize to the royal family, and now that wretched girl brings even more trouble upon us? How could I have given birth to someone like her?” The man stood, stepping over to his wife, who had her face in her hands, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Calm down, dear; she’s not a problem to us… for now.”

Naturally, upon arriving home, her parents had been disappointed—if not more than that.

“So, what do we do now?” the woman asked, dramatically sobbing, while her husband smiled beside her.

“We’ll simply say that the letter never reached us. There’s no way we’re allying with that blue devil.”

“Yes, exactly. Well thought out.” They exchanged smiles, pleased with their scheme.

What they hadn’t anticipated, however, was that just a week later, an elegant carriage in dark tones with a blue gleam would arrive on their estate. The man who stepped out wore costly shoes and elegant attire, his guards surrounding him as he made his way to the door and knocked firmly. After a few seconds, the maid opened the door and, shocked by the visitor, dropped the feather duster she was holding.

With a sweet smile concealing something darker, he looked at her and said, “Will you allow us to enter and summon your masters?”

The maid quickly stepped aside, opening the door further, allowing the young man and his guards to enter. The butler, who had been watching from a distance, hurried over to join them.

“A-ah, my apologies! Please, follow me to the parlor.” The butler passed by the maid, tugging on her sleeve as he whispered urgently, “What are you waiting for? Go fetch them!”

The butler led the way to the sitting room, allowing the young man to take a seat before bowing. Soon, another maid appeared, pushing a cart and setting down a tray with a fine teapot and matching cups. She poured tea for the young man, who accepted it with a smile and took a sip.

The door opened shortly after, revealing the master and mistress of the house. The man’s expression initially showed shock before he cleared his throat and regained his composure. Behind him stood his wife, partially hiding her face behind her fan. They both took seats on the sofa opposite the visitor.

“Your Highness! To what do we owe this visit?”

“Well, it seems you haven’t received my letter, seeing as I received no response,” Nomura noted, setting his teacup on its saucer before looking up at them. The man exchanged a nervous glance with his wife before chuckling awkwardly.

“Yes, yes… no letter here. I mean, you know how postal services are these days, eh? Ha… ha…”

“Very well,” Nomura replied, his tone cool as he leaned back slightly. “I am here to propose a business arrangement. A mutually beneficial one for both of us.”

pt1. Pt2

"I'll possibly do Part 4:)

Should I make a smut? Or do you not like that? I think I might turn it into a series. But seriously, Nomura is officially a profile character now.

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[jyoongim]

Heya! I found your account a couple of days ago and I am obsessed with your soft Alastor fics, they're just so beautifully written! You are crazy talented, I love your writing.

I was wondering if I could request a soft!Alastor x reader fic where Alastor does something scary like threatening someone in his big demon form, and reader witnesses it and just gets a little fright. When he finds out he's really apologetic and holding them and it's all just really fluffy.

Thank you, and have a wonderful day!

- a new anon: 🌻

🌻 anon that’s so cute! Welcome to my shit show!!!

Your request was so cute! And just what i needed to get out of writer’s block.

——————————————————————————————-

You walked beside Alastor as the two of you trailed behind Charlie as she showed Lucifer around. You  hadn’t noticed Husker behind the two of you until he called out to Alastor.

”Hey boss a word” You paused and watched as Alastor’s eye twitched. He spun his neck like owl to acknowledge the cat

”What is it?”

Husker’s eyes drifted to you and Alastor turned his attention to you “Dearest why don’t you go on ahead without me, ill catch up in a few”

You smiled and nodded, letting them have their privacy.

You hadn’t gotten too far when you heard Husker talking about Mimzy’s sudden appearance at the hotel.

”Me and you both know Mimzy only show her ass when she needs you to clean up her mess. That bitch is trouble”

you hear Alastor laugh “Don’t worry about it Husker! Its nothing I can’t handle besides who would dare cross me?”

The flickering of the hallway lights caught your attention and Husker’s yelp made you turn back.

Rounding the corner, your eyes widened as you see Husker cowering on the floor and Alastor is pissed.

He has a green chain in his hands and he’s slowly approaching Husk, wrapping the chain around his arms

”If you EVER mention that again I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams FOR EVERY DISRESPECTFUL WRETCH WHO DARES CHALLENGE ME!”

Alastor transforms just big enough to fill the hallway and towered over the shaking cat

”Do you understand?” He tilted his head

Husker nodded frantically and in a flash Alastor was back to normal “Lovely” before he could turn around you ran.

You were shaken up. Alastor had joined you again and you couldn’t help but distance yourself from him.

You didn’t understand what had made him so angry to threaten Husker.

You had never seen Alastor upset and you didn’t like that he acted like nothing had happened.

It was rather late when Lucifer had left and everyone had gone off to do their own thing.

You usually spent your nights with Alastor in his radio tower, but you opted to be alone in your room.

A knock at your door pulled your attention from your book and the door opened to reveal Alastor.

“I thought you would be keeping me company tonight my dear” he had a soft smile on his face as he approached your bed.

You scooted away from him before he could pull you to him and he quirked his brows,  confused.

”Darlin? What’s got you so spooked?” He asked as he settled on your bed.

You felt guilty being afraid of Alastor, the Overlord had never once made you feel scared, but his actions towards Husk made you feel unsure of him.

”You scared me earlier” you said softly, fiddling with your hands. “I had overheard you talking to Husk and-and I saw you. You were scary Al”

Alastor's eyes widened.  He didn’t know you had witness him lost his composure and now you being distant the whole night made sense.

His ears furrowed against his head as he took in your nervous expression.

He reached for your hands, bringing them to his lips and letting out a soft purr to soothe you. 

You softened as you let him pull you into his lap.

”Oh my dear I’m sorry I gave you a fright. That you had to see me in such a distasteful light” he apologized nuzzling you.

You giggled as he peppered kisses all over your face.

“Just never get big and scary unless absolutely necessary” you poked his chest, trying to be stern.

Alastor let out a low laugh, nodding “I will do my best to not let my anger get the better of me”

You held out your pinky “Pinky promise”

He looped his claw around yours bringing it to his lips, bright green smoke swirling around the digits

”Deal”

[nmakii]

THE GIRL IN MY STORY HAS ALWAYS BEEN YOU!

— in which alastor’s dear is ridiculed. he’ll take care of those insolent wretches later… comforting you is much more important

— lol a little drabble bc i j found out one of my former friends called me ugly last school year and i kinda get it cause i had a huge forehead (i got bangs to fix that) but i just feel a little insecure rn

you hit your head on the pillow, your smile faltering as soon as you were alone. what an awful day… today was exhausting, being ridiculed by those demons in the carmine district was hurtful, to say the very least. most especially when they poked at your looks.

appearance was always a taboo subject to you, all that anyone ever wants is to be beautiful.

creak…

“darling, what are you doing back here so early in the day?” alastor asked, walking over to you as he put his face near your’s. “don’t wanna talk about it…” you frowned, turning away from him.

alastor’s curiosity grew as he turned you back over. “is something wrong, my dear?” he asked, a soft smile on his face. “what is it that happened? c’mon, tell me about it, love.” he said as he sat on the bed, pulling you onto his lap.

“am… am i pretty, alastor?” you sniffed, eyes growing wet with tears. “my dear, of course you are! what makes you think otherwise?” alastor raised an eyebrow.

“uuh… some demons were kinda…” you started, leaning your head on his chest as your tears stained his coat as he waited for you to finish speaking. “t…they were calling me ugly…” you finished, a hiccup interrupting your breaths.

“my love, don’t let those wretches’ blind comments plague your thoughts. you’re beautiful, i promise you that, on my own grave!” he quietly laughed at his own joke. it didn’t seem to calm your thoughts though. “dear, trust me, you are gorgeous. you would not have any idea how many other demons i had to fight off to earn the right to court you!”

it made you feel slightly better, the thought of it making you smile a little. “come now, smile, my dear! you know you’re never fully dressed without one!” alastor’s smile growing wider as he pointed to his own grin.

alastor’s trademark motto making your smile grow wider as he wiped your pearly tears away. “don’t cry anymore, darling. your pretty face is meant to smile.” he said, kissing you on the head. “say… what are the names of these demons?” he asked.

“aah… i don’t know… it was when i was in the carmine district…” you said, looking at alastor’s eyes. “don’t go after them.. you’ll start some sort of overlord war with ms. carmilla…” you frowned at his clear murderous intent

“i wouldn’t care for that at all, darling. a war with carmilla is the very least of my worries right now.” he rolled his eyes at your worry. “not when there are sinners who need to be taught a lesson.”

you leaned into alastor’s touch as he stroked your back comfortingly. “thank you, love…” you sighed. “i’ll always come through for you, darling. don’t ever question that.”