#have you consumed any liquid today?

[meowuff]

…………………………………………what?

[morikosa]

REMORSE

SUMMARY: He doesn't realize how valuable you are until he loses you.

Things could have been different. If he had stayed home, you would still be alive. You would still be alive…

''My love… p-please don’t go''

Gojo froze in his tracks, feeling your delicate arms wrap around his waist from behind. Despite himself, a small flicker of surprise coursed through him, momentarily halting his steps towards the door. Your trembling voice reached his ears, filled with desperation and a plea for him to stay.

"I-I will prepare a dinner for you, my love… p-please don’t go,” you whispered, your lips pressing softly against his back in a tender kiss.

For a brief moment, the gentle touch and your plea tugged at a minuscule fragment of buried empathy within him. However, he quickly squashed that flicker of compassion.

He twisted his body to face you, his expression turning cold and unyielding once again under his blindfold. He roughly pushed your arms away from his waist, forcing you to release her grip on him. The action was swift and unforgiving.

“Your feeble attempts to keep me won’t work, y/n.” he spat, his voice laced with cruel indifference. “I have no use for your pitiful displays of affection. I am leaving.”

He turned away from you, resolute in his decision. He regretted his words at the moment he saw the pain and sadness in your eyes. But he couldn’t show it, he couldn’t show any sign of weakness.

After all, he was the strongest

With a last glance, he walked towards the door and left you. As he crossed the threshold, his heart remained hardened, untouched by the anguish he left behind. 

...

He was a terrible husband. He didn’t pay any attention to you. But he wanted to change that, so he bought you a bouquet to make it up to you, and today he was going to take you out to dinner. He was going to fix everything, you were going to be happy together.

“My sweet wifey~, I thought we could have dinner today, husband and wife–”

Upon entering the house, Gojo was met with an eerie silence that sent a chill down his spine. The door wide open, the lights on – everything seemed off. As he stepped further inside, his heart raced, confusion clouding his thoughts. The scent of carnage enveloped him, the heavy air thick with tension.

Then he found you.

Lying lifeless on the floor, your limbs twitching slightly as the waning moments of your life escaped from you. Blood pooled beneath you, the crimson liquid staining the once pristine floors with its haunting presence. A profound sorrow washed over him, accompanied by a wave of guilt – a bitter taste in his mouth.

The flowers he had intended to apologize with dropped from his grasp, the vibrant colors now tainted by the horrifying scene unfolding before his eyes. He watched in horror as you struggled for your last breaths, your fragile body betrayed by the curse that sought to end her life.

The irreversibility of the situation dawned on him at that moment - her fate was already sealed, your time running thin. Tears welled up in his eyes as realizations flooded his mind; regrets of his callous behavior, anger, and neglect came racing back and consumed his conscience.

If only he had stayed... if only he had paid attention.

Gojo fell to his knees beside you, reaching out tentatively to steady her limp form. “Y/N. Stay with me,” he pleaded, a foreign word in his vocabulary. “Please, don’t go.” His tears fell in torrents, landing beside hers on the muddied ground.

“Who. Who did this to you-”

His hands shook as he cradled you close, your warm breath steadily fading in his embrace. The pain of losing you was like a dagger piercing his heart, a relentless torture he could never escape.

What was the point? What was the point of being the strongest if he couldn’t even protect his wife?

At present

Gojo stands before your grave, a solemn figure with his head bowed low. The air holds a heavy silence, broken only by the soft rustle of leaves as a gentle breeze caresses the surrounding trees. The weight of his loss rests heavily upon his shoulders, his heart burdened with a mix of grief and regret.

“Hey, it’s me again,” he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion as he addresses the earth beneath him. “I don’t know if you can hear me, but I wanted to let you know… I’m doing my best, even though it feels impossible without you here.”

His fingers trace the engraved letters of your name on the tombstone, his touch both reverent and pained. Memories of your time together flood his mind, each a bittersweet reminder of what he had lost. The weight of his remorse for not cherishing those moments to their fullest becomes evident in how his shoulders slump and his breath hitches.

“I miss you, more than words can express,” he admits, his voice breaking with raw vulnerability. “I wish I had realized sooner what you truly meant to me. I wish I had been a better husband and person for you… worthy of the love you had for me.”

His grip tightens on the flowers he brought, his knuckles turning white. He places them gently upon your grave, his gaze lingering upon the fading petals.

Tears glisten in his mismatched eyes, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “I love you, and I always will. I’m sorry I realized this so late. Wherever you are, I hope you’ve found peace. And just know… you’ll forever have a place in my heart.”

With a final, lingering look at your tombstone, he puts the bouquet on your tombstone and turns away.

He will live a lifetime with the pain of ruining the perfect future he could have had with you.

[wakeup01]

From Behind

(A horror themed butt growth story.)

Why do you keep doing this to yourself? It’s like you set yourself up for disaster. You are travelling home alone from a rather productive session at the gym. That is the good news, the bad news is you have just entered what is known as a run down area of town affectionately referred to as ‘The Crack’, everyone tends to avoid it if possible. There have been recent reports of missing people in the area too, but no one is very surprised, or seems to care. But today you were in a rush and despite your reservations, this was the quickest route back. At least, in theory.

Passing down a street of derelict warehouses you notice a side passage that appeared to lead down an alleyway. That was odd. You’ve been down here before, but had never noticed this back-alley before. Paths don’t tend to spring up out of thin air. You try and calculate where it should lead and come to the conclusion that it would let you save some time, maybe? Look, it’s extremely unlikely anything bad could happen within the minute it would take to make it through to the other side. Yes, that is what everyone says before things go horribly wrong but that was absolutely, definitely not going to happen here.

You step into a puddle that splashes an unidentifiable liquid up your bare leg. Mental note: never wear shorts in ‘The Crack’ again. Trash was piled up high on either side, it was obvious these buildings didn’t get a huge amount of use anymore. You always thought horror movies had done a real disservice to alleyways, but this one certainly wouldn’t be changing anyones mind. In the distance you see the silhouette of someone standing in the middle of the alley. From their stature it seems to be man, but something about them throws you off. You feel a pang of trepidation, a chill runs down your back. It’s only just occurred to you how deafly quiet the passage is, the sounds of the street feel like miles away. You turn around and the uneven pavement seems to impossibly stretch away from your feet. You hear a dull droning, fizzling just within your hearing range. Looking back and the man appears closer than before, you swear he hasn’t moved and yet…

“Uh hello?” You call out, to no response. Strange. But then, you see it. The most beautiful sight your eyes have been graced with. His butt.

Butt.

His grey joggers are having a hard time trying to contain what he’s packing, not that you’re complaining. It’s bigger than what you thought possible, it’s captivating. And now you’re just staring. Staring at another dudes gigantic butt in the middle of an alley, try not to overthink it. You see it jiggle just slightly and your eyes follow it’s repetitive movement hypnotically. What doesn’t occur to you is how your body is starting to….adjust. There’s a barely perceptible malicious force entering your form, you welcomed it in the second you laid eyes on the perfectly sculpted ass. Not a wholly bad trade off.

It wastes no time in making itself at home. Assessing the prey that wandered into it’s lair, before going to work on you.

The energy is gathering in your nethers, passing down your head and pulling through your torso. It seems to be taking something with it as your rear begins to heat up. You feel a light throb. It starts slow but soon increases in intensity. Your modest stature is being ‘enhanced’, your average ass cheeks piling on pounds as the rest of your body flattens out. Muscle and tissue is consumed, just food to bolster your hindquarters. All your body fat melts away until you have a tight slim chest. Your arms thinning out into effeminate twigs, hands slender. And through it all you continue to watch the rotund cheeks in front of you, not daring to take your eyes off them. Wouldn’t it be nice to have that too? Any sacrifice would be worth it, no? You want that, that -

Butt.

The thin polyester fabric of your shorts is pulled taut across your enlarging rear. Straining as it struggles to cage the hungry beast within it’s confines. Today was perhaps not the best day to decide on going without underwear. But lets be honest, underwear isn’t going to have much prominence in your future.

With your body adequately slimmed down, the insatiable parasitic-like force begins to target any identifying features you have left. It focuses on your head, a couple of twitches and it’s done. Nose itches, eyes water. It leaves your face with an uncanny quality, like it was unsettlingly sent though a algorithmic generator. It’s you, but an eerie idealised version of you. Plasticised perfection. Your skin is now unnaturally even, without a single speck or blemish. Anything that could distract from your main asset is smoothed clean. Absorbed by the mound of flesh expanding in your pants. There’s only one thing people should be paying attention to. That’s quickly becoming less of an issue. The inevitable missing poster they put up will only vaguely resemble you.

“Guh.” You hear yourself pant.

The low droning of the alleyway grows more prominent, pulsing rhythmically, akin to the low bass of a dance track. Your buttocks instinctually vibrate to the beat.

It’s increasingly hard to ignore the obvious changes happening to you. Your rotund behind is becoming so heavy. And while, yes, it is slightly concerning - can the issue wait just a little bit longer? You’ll deal with it later, after fully grasping the scope of this dude’s bountiful booty. For a second you wonder what the mans face looks like but then you think better of it. His face isn’t important, in the same way that yours isn’t.

You shift your feet apart, trying to balance out your rear heavy centre of gravity. The slight movement sends your round cheeks wobbling comically like a bowl of jelly. They bounce together, creating a wet slapping sound in your tight shorts. Your lower half is at risk of putting fuck toys out of business.

You’ve never had the word ‘butt’ enter your mind with such frequency in your entire life, it begins to loose all meaning. A collection of random letters.

Butt.

Are you perhaps forgetting something? That 4 letter word isn’t about to share a space with that bump between your legs. At some point you may have believed your cock was of some importance. All those times it had made you feel good, where for a second your concerns would fade from view. But things change. You are changing. Sometimes you have no choice but to embrace it. You start to feel a light tugging at your crotch. It’s slightly uncomfortable but there’s a pleasant tingle too. You reach down and feel it’s length diminish within your hand, sucked up like a vacuum by your ever thickening arse. It doesn’t stop until a mere nub protrudes from your groin. It dribbles the smallest amount of pre down your leg and spreads across the cracked concrete of the alley. No amount of stimulation is going to produce much down there. Your pleasure centre realigns a little further back. A deep itch that requires constant attention. A cock is something that other people have, you instead have an open socket for them to plug into.

Your shapely bum must almost rival that of the one your eyes are glued to. Not much further to go. Other people will stare at yours in the same way. You didn’t know you were so jealous of it but who wouldn’t want THAT?

You’re not sure how long you’ve been watching his rear end, or how long you plan to continue doing so. No better ideas come to mind right now. That might be because with your body and cock sucked dry, your brain is the next best source of fuel. So much useless power being used up there, where it can serve a much better purpose. It’s like a battery being drained, squeezed right into your juicy fat ass. Churned away just to add another inch of thickness.

You don’t think you really want this to happen, maybe you’re big enough back there? But what you want and what it wants are two very different things. Unfortunately for you, it doesn’t appear to be up for debate.

If you round up all those little idiosyncrasies of your personality, you might even squeeze another few millimetres into your hips. There’s only one thing around here with much substance anymore, and it certainly isn’t your brain. You can admit it, not much of value has been lost. It’s not like you were getting around to solving world hunger. At least now you have the opportunity to solve a different kind of hunger.

Your thoughts provided a decent amount of sustenance as they were sucked out of your brain through a figurative straw. You feel the benefit push out. Your hips flaring out instantaneously while your globes inflate to the size of footballs. With your brain emptied out of anything complex, thoughts and instructions to your body start to arrive from the new master of the domain. Neurones rewired, your butt was now command central, your head was just the go between, mostly irrelevant. Simple instructions and desires like ‘bend’, ‘twerk’ and ‘facesit’ overwhelm you. But -butt- right now the main one was ‘stare’; you weren’t done yet after all.

Your cheeks moisten as they rub together, their new sensitivity firing bolts up your spine. Your shorts grow damp as the leaking fluid soaks into the polyester and clings tightly to your skin. It only helps to make your arse seem bigger, the fabric bunching up between your crack, creating a noticeable crease down the centre that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again you feel your ass throb and shudder, each jiggle pushing it just a little bit further from your body. Just when you think you couldn’t get any bigger back there, it keeps going, inflating to cartoonish proportions. Sticking out like a depraved shelf. Your waist thins out and your hips expand to accommodate your new form. Women would be jealous of what you’re packing, and men will be queuing up to test it’s suspension.

It’s okay to smile. Happy people smile. Aren’t you happy? You must be, everything else in your head was consumed. The entity did you a favour in that regard. Think of the words ‘bouncing booty’. Go on, give it a try.

Your lip quivers in a last ditch effort of restraint. Don’t let ‘it’ win. The defiance is vaguely amusing in a pitiful way but your face muscles start to give way. Your mouth stretches wide into a broad, earnest grin. The most sincere display of joy you’ve ever shown, who cares if it makes you look ‘dumb’? It doesn’t bother you at all that people can take one look at you and accurately guess, that not a single word of value will exit your mouth. Dumb people are happy. Why worry? You had different priorities now. You can feel safe knowing that your most prominent feature is taking the lead, that it knows what’s best for you. Give it the keys and good things are bound to happen.

See, and doesn’t smiling feel good? Doesn’t it feel right to smile as your hole is used like a cum receptacle? Or when your cheeks are surrounding a mans face? People don’t want to see their toy sad.

A lone giggle falls out between your pursed lips.

You reach back around and place your hands on your two buttocks, your palm is dwarfed in size. It no longer stretches across its surface. Like palming a basketball. You can feel it push against your fingers with immense pressure as it expands within your grasp. Just another centimetre, and another. It’s curvature widens, expanding out from your hips. You press your finger into the skin and rub. The surface is completely smooth and the texture has a slight friction to it, creating a light satisfying sqk. No one for a second will believe that it’s real, it’s obvious fake-ness is by design. Authenticity is so overrated, nothing real would bounce so tightly back to position, would shine so brightly in the light. Would be able to withstand so much pounding… People don’t actually want real, they want a fetish image come to life, they want no maintenance, no downsides. They want someone to just nod and agree while they fuck them without concern; they want a rubber butt like yours. You’re not about to question it, and neither will anyone else.

They won’t question it while they undress you, or while they find relief inside of you, or even when their own butt begins to expand. And still, when they are reduced to just another butt boy, they won’t question it.

Butt.

That’s right, you’re a carrier. You have been entrusted with a important task, to leave a string of giant asses in your wake. You need to spread it, like a computer virus. Once they ‘plug in’ there’s no going back. Whoever they were, they’ll all end up the same.

You are finished. Your glutes tighten into place. And your hole opens for frequent visitors. Stretching wide as if it had just been treated to a rigorous fuck machine session. You’re just a butt with a body attached. It’s how you view yourself, above all is tending to the needs of your ever hungry rear. The rest of your body is just a mode of transport, a means to an end. A rear end.

It feels like you’ve stood here for hours, but in reality it’s been no more than a minute. A minute was all it took for you to be repurposed as a literal butt boy. A mere sixty seconds for all your thoughts to be hollowed out; maybe you weren’t as smart as you thought, or maybe you secretly wanted this all along. Either way your head is now just a pretty picture to smile at before spinning you around.

The space in your head is about as empty as the hole between your pillowy cheeks, although only one has any hope of being filled up.

“Butt!” You hear yourself blurt out, like a child saying a naughty word. The sound echos down the dank alley.

Suddenly the butt opposite you turns away, his legs moving him towards you. A wordless instruction reaches your body to kneel and so you do, obediently. He turns back away, his beautiful ass only a few inches apart from your face. His joggers lower and his prize springs forth from it’s prison. He slowly backs his cheeks into your face until they eclipse your entire view. He continues until your head is pushed between his round globes with a blomf, encasing you, muffling the sound in your ears. There’s a mild tingle across your forehead/face.

You feel the pressure push against your sides. It makes sure your head is an appropriately vacuous vessel, squeezing out anything left. That little remnant that didn’t want to be butt brained drips away in no time, turned to drool and absorbed into the guys ass crack. This would be good for you; You needed to be made perfect, so you let the butt finish it’s work. A new set of instructions flow into you, into your ass. You feel your consciousness connect to the butt burying your face, assimilating and adding you as one of it’s own, making you part of something bigger. One of many.

The pressure on your head leaves your emptied mind subservient to the mass of tissue straining under you. It gives you a new identity.

I gave you a new identity.

BUTT BOY.

And you’re now ready for service. Butt. Boy. Ready to spread joy. To put it in the nicest way possible, you have a butt for a brain. It has been given full control, and it has one singular goal. You need to make more Butt Boys. It is that simple. It’s not a desire, it’s just something you have to do.

The cheeks spread open again and are unseated from your encased head, your broad smile still unflinching.

Something else is different though. A cold breeze brushes over your forehead. The hair on your head is nothing but a light dusting of what was there before, at most 1mm in length. It was one less thing to worry about, and one less thing to identify you with. It’s unsettling how much of your personality seemed to be stripped with it gone. The buzzed look certainly makes you appear more anonymous. Like a default custom character in a video game. Nothing made you stand out… well, aside from the obvious.

The ass in front of you is satisfied with your ‘adjustment’ and leads it’s body from the spot it once stood so patiently in. You continue to stare as the buttocks juggle erratically in the grey joggers as they leave the alleyway.

Your feet begin to move of their own volition. Movement is awkward, each step your balance is pulling you backward. You’re like a dumptruck trying to make a tight turn.

You are left in silence, aside from the clapping of your bouncy cheeks as you stumble forward to replace the previous occupant. You stand in the exact same spot, thighs pushed together, back straight. Now it is your turn to wait - like an animal for it’s prey, knowing that you cannot leave until you have passed on the gift to another man; ensuring that the cycle continues. The idea of causing someone else to go through the same process fills you with such pride.

It’s unclear how long you stand there, time in the alley doesn’t appear to operate within normal parameters. Like a crack in the world. You see your shadow projected onto a nearby wall, a straight line interrupted by an obscene vibrating speed bump. Doorframes could be your new biggest enemy.

You were desperate to see your reflection, from behind obviously. Most people take selfies of their face, the subject of your attention would be much further down.

You hear a voice echo from behind.

“Excuse me sir.”

One week later:

“Man, how much work did you have done on this, femboy? Unff. You make even my girlfriend look flat.” A towering voice booms down at you.

You’d picked up the jock in a club. He was relatively easy, it didn’t take much to end up back at his place. You stared at him with that horny, open mouthed duck face. But he wasn’t interested in what you had going on up there. It was remarkable how little men cared about how flagrantly airheaded you were once you flash your rear at them. It didn’t matter how ‘plastic’ or fake you so obviously were. The eye see’s what it wants.

He was clearly in the mood to let off steam, and one look of what you had on offer was all it took. You didn’t even need to say anything, which was good, as words were so hard to get right. For tonight, you were his; a light tap of your butt and he owned your body. A breathy ‘mhm’ confirming your obedience to him and his sizeable bulge. Your ass begins to moisten in preparation - it wanted him, in more ways than one.

He had told you his name, but you already forgot it; he soon would too. ‘Jocky’ was good enough for now.

Jocky was obnoxious in all the right ways, wearing his masculinity on his sleeve. That type made for the best, most severe adjustment.

“Love the buzzcut by the way femmy. Yeah…mhm. Very basic, it suits you.” He rubs a hand over the top of your head before running his fingers through his curly hair. It was a good thing he already liked the look.

*plap plap*

The strong man’s 7 inch cock thrusts in and out of your well used hole, pulling between your lubricated cheeks. Your buttocks squished against his member tightly, every bump rubbing across your hypersensitive skin. You were so hungry. He wasn’t the longest but he definitely had thickness on his side. You pant heavily as he has his way with you. Bent over his bed, facing away from him at a wall. He wasn’t as good at this as he thought, you would know, but it wouldn’t matter for long.

“Mmf. You’re a quiet one. Ah… I- I like that in a bottom. Makes a nice change from…hff. Always whining. Know your place. Fuck.” He continues to drunkenly rant into your ear. His deep, self-aggrandising voice quickly grating on you.

“Uuh. Take it all dumb slut.” You let him have his petty insults, it seemed to make him feel bigger, more in control. Evidently, he was obviously very self obsessed, dumb as you may be, even you could tell that much. The constant glances at his own muscles were enough of a giveaway. Eh. You’d seen better; the change will be a improvement.

He speeds up, sending shockwaves up your body and making your butt bounce enthusiastically.

“H…hey it’s real hot in here.” His voice shakes. “Umf. Maybe we should stop?” He puts his hand on your hip in an attempt to steady himself as he continues pumping you. You begin to push back into him, his dick pushing all the way in.

“Wh… what the fuck. My ass feels…mmm.” He groans loudly. You know how it feels. You can hear them rubbing together already.

His grip on your back weakens, the weight crashing into you softens. His body is like a deflating balloon, his diminishing height bringing him closer to the floor. The girth inside of you shrinks.

“Ahh. So heavy…damn. My-“

“Butt.” You tell him. A slight hint of boredom in your tone.

“Oh god, why does my head… so hard to think.” Right on cue, his smarts were being cleared out, in preparation for his ass to take over thinking duties. This part was your favourite; it wasn’t fair he had all that stuff while you felt so…blank. “Feels so good. Unnf.” It was too late for him to stop it, he’d soon be very happy. Happy, eager and ready to comply. “Shouldn’t though…” You take the lead, rocking back and forth along what’s left of his dwindling shaft. Your buttocks slap against his tightened chest.

*plap plap*

“Bouncy…hehe.” He laughs dimly. You can’t help but echo his giggle, it WAS a funny word. One of your favourites - top 5 at least, right after ‘jiggle’.

“Don’t wanna…fuck…b…but I can’t…but…but.” He stutters, like a scratched record.

“B…bu…Butt. Buuuutt.” His voice moans in realisation, mumbling the word over and over to himself. He shudders, squirting inside of you. It’s okay. It’s never enough to satisfy you.

His tiny cock slips out of your hole, dragging a small string of cum across your sensitive rear. That familiar feeling of emptiness sets back in. You get out from under him and assess your work. Turning to face him, you’re greeted by his broad smile and blank, lust-filled stare. His jockish face and body now heavily twinkified; those boorish muscles, gone. His cocky attitude, subdued. The bed creaks. You check on his oversized ass splayed beneath him, a rather drastic change from his previously flat posterior. Looking even more ridiculous with his shortened stature. The slight rubbery sheen was the cherry on top. Those plastic beach balls were made to twerk and put on a show. A vast improvement, he seems pleased by it too. His left hand is loosely fondling his new selling point.

“O…ohh.” A surprised squeak slips out from his mouth. It’s always a shock when they see where everything has gone.

You’re pretty sure he didn’t have much experience back there, if any at all. He’ll soon get the hang of it.

You know what comes next, what’s required of you - it’s instinctual at this point. You push him onto the bed and position yourself on top of him. You gradually begin to lower your huge rear over his head. You sit snugly down on his blushing face, shifting your weight a bit to get into a comfortable position. His gelled hair tickles against your skin, until it doesn’t…

He’ll make a cute Butt Boy.

[aventurineswife]

(Original Idea)

@smokess

It’s been a few weeks since you first arrived in the Devildom. You’ve already made your way through a few of the rougher patches: learning the magic laws, getting used to demon food, and navigating the maze that is the House of Lamentation. But there are still moments when things catch you completely off guard, and today happens to be one of them.

You’ve just been called to the dining room for breakfast, but as you walk in, your thoughts are still buzzing from yesterday’s events. You’re trying to put together how you ended up in this bizarre world full of demons with their own customs, traditions, and... strange ways of doing things.

As you sit down, the brothers—Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, and Beel—are already seated, along with Diavolo and Barbatos, who were visiting from the palace. The atmosphere is relaxed, almost too relaxed. They’re chatting, mostly about the latest human technology (Mammon is in a heated debate with Levi over the newest video game release) and general happenings in the Devildom.

But then, as you reach for your plate, your body betrays you.

You start sneezing, repeatedly. It’s not that unusual for you—back on Earth, you’ve had bad allergies before, especially in the spring. But here? You didn’t realize that it was possible for pollen from another dimension to mess with your system.

"Huh, bless you, I suppose." Lucifer comments, his tone a bit dry. He raises an eyebrow as you snatch a napkin and try to muffle another series of sneezes.

"Are you okay?" Beel asks, his voice sincere, though it’s impossible to ignore that he's already eyeing the plate of food in front of you, the steam rising from it. He’s always hungry, always concerned about food, and while you’re trying to focus on the allergy attack, his concern doesn’t help.

"I-I think it’s just my allergies," you manage to choke out between sneezes, your hand scrambling to find something to wipe your nose with.

Barbatos, ever the composed butler, immediately gets up and makes his way over to you with a tray of what looks like...some kind of odd, green liquid in a cup.

"Please drink this, MC. It should help soothe your reaction. We have a lot of unique flora in the Devildom, and they can affect humans in different ways."

You eye the drink with a mixture of suspicion and gratitude. At this point, you don’t really have any other choice.

“What... what’s in this?” you ask, sniffing it carefully.

“It’s a blend of herbs from the underworld,” Barbatos says with a calm smile. “Completely harmless. It should help with your symptoms. But you might want to avoid consuming anything too exotic until your body gets used to the local flora.”

You take a cautious sip. Surprisingly, the liquid doesn’t taste too bad, and within moments, your sneezing fits subside.

"Thanks, Barbatos," you say, giving him a grateful smile, but you're still mentally processing the fact that you might have to get used to demon herbs now.

“So, MC,” Diavolo begins, his voice loud and friendly as always, his large frame leaning toward you with genuine interest, “I wanted to ask, what kind of... ‘treatments’ do humans undergo back home?”

The question catches you off guard. You look around, noticing the brothers are now all paying attention—Diavolo's curiosity seems to have sparked a sudden group interest.

“Treatments?” you ask, hoping you understand the question right.

“You know, for things like... well, if you get sick, or need vaccinations?” Diavolo gestures, his enthusiasm barely contained. “It’s always interesting to hear how humans take care of themselves!”

You blink, processing the concept of vaccines. You realize that in the Devildom, none of these demons are likely familiar with things like flu shots or allergy medication... or even common human ailments like cold and flu. It’s a foreign concept here.

“Uh, well, humans get vaccinated—shots, you know, to prevent diseases? We also go to the doctor for stuff like fevers or injuries.” you say slowly, unsure if they understand what you're saying.

The room goes quiet. Then, unexpectedly, Mammon snickers.

"Wait, so ya all just get stuck with needles?" he asks, looking at you with wide, alarmed eyes. "Why would ya let someone do that to ya? Sounds like torture!"

You let out a small laugh, trying to explain it in a way they'd understand. "It’s for our protection. Without vaccines, we could get really sick from things we can easily avoid."

The demons all exchange looks of utter confusion. Satan looks thoughtful, though, his hand resting under his chin. “That’s... fascinating. So you just... accept being injected with something? No magical potions or healing spells?”

“Nope,” you answer, shaking your head. “Just medicine and stuff we get from the Earth. No magic involved.”

Diavolo claps his hands together in an amused gesture. “How strange! I wonder if that would work in the Devildom... Barbatos, what do you think?”

Barbatos, ever the pragmatic butler, raises an eyebrow. “I’m not entirely sure, My Lord. But I believe it would require a rather significant amount of effort. Perhaps we should stick to what we know works.”

You chuckle nervously, trying not to feel too alien. It’s weird being the only one who understands what vaccines even are, let alone periods, or allergies...

The conversation shifts after a while to other aspects of human life, which you’re not exactly prepared for. After some time, the talk turns to... well, other human customs—especially biological ones.

"So... do humans have... um... I don't know how to say this," Asmo starts, clearly not sure how to word it delicately. "Do humans, uh, have... ‘monthly’... discomforts?”

You freeze mid-bite, the word monthly hanging in the air like an uncomfortable weight. You’ve always been pretty private about your cycle, especially now that you’re in a room full of demons who probably know nothing about it.

“I, uh... it’s called a period,” you mutter, hoping the subject won’t get too awkward.

"A period?" Satan asks, leaning forward, eyes wide with curiosity. "Like... punctuation?"

“No!” you exclaim, mortified. "I mean... it’s a human thing. A... biological process." You sigh, trying to explain without sounding too embarrassed. "It’s a monthly occurrence where... my body, um, prepares for something it doesn’t need. So, it... uh... sheds the lining in the uterus."

The demons stare at you blankly. Even Lucifer, usually composed, looks momentarily baffled.

“And that... happens to you... every month?” Levi asks, horrified. “How do you... I mean, that sounds awful!”

You nod. "It can be uncomfortable. It’s like a... natural part of being human."

Barbatos, ever the tactful one, steps in smoothly, his voice calm. “It seems humans have a great deal to manage in their biology. Fascinating.”

“Right? And we’re just expected to deal with it,” you add, still feeling embarrassed but relieved that they’re not asking too many more questions.

Later, the conversation veers into a discussion about where you came from, your homeland, and your nationality. It’s a tricky subject, especially since most of these demons have never even heard of your country, let alone your hometown.

“So, you’re from Earth, right?” Lucifer asks, tapping his fingers on the table, as if contemplating the situation. “But Earth is so vast. How do you classify your people?”

You pause, unsure how to approach it. “Well, there are countries, and people belong to different nations. I come from a country called...”

The name of your country seems to hang in the air, but as you mention it, the demons exchange confused looks. They’ve never heard of it.

“Wait, so what’s that country like?” Mammon asks, genuinely curious. “What’s ya... currency? What’s the most popular food?”

You try your best to explain, but each question leads to another, and soon you realize how very, very different Earth is from the Devildom.

But as weird and overwhelming as this all is, you realize that these moments of confusion and surprise are part of what makes your time here so unique. The demons may not understand everything about you, but they're clearly invested in learning—whether it’s how to handle your allergies or what a "period" is.

And really, at the end of the day, it's that curiosity and willingness to understand each other that makes the Devildom feel a little more like home every day.

[thatonegreekgodwrites]

“ECHOES OF ELYSIUM”

Odysseus x Fem!Reader

warnings. sexual assault, slavery, a greek retelling, eventual smut, war/gore, this won’t have a happy ending

pairing. odysseus x fem! reader (inspired by epic:the musical)

in the heart of troy, amidst the towering walls and architecture, the city bustled with the vibrant energy of its people. the market squares were filled with the sounds of merchants haggling and children playing, unaware of the shadow of war creeping ever closer. within the palace, the air was different—heavier with the scent of incense and the hum of anticipation.

you, a young slave girl with kind eyes and calloused hands, moved silently through the halls. your life was one of routine and quiet obedience, your existence almost invisible among the grandeur of the palace. today, however, was a day of celebration, and even you could not escape the excitement that seemed to permeate the very stones of troy.

the reason for the festivities was the birth of the heir, the firstborn son of prince hector and his beloved wife, andromache. the birth of the child promised new hope and joy, a symbol of strength and continuity. their legacy now secured if the gods favored them so. the celebration was to be grand, with nobles and warriors alike gathering to honor the new prince and his family.

you had been tasked with pouring wine for the guests. it was a simple task, yet it required precision and grace—qualities that had been drilled into you from a young age. you carried a large jug, the cool red liquid sloshing gently inside, as you made your way to the grand hall.

as you entered the hall, you were struck by the sight before you. the room was adorned with rich tapestries and garlands of flowers. the tables were laden with food and drink, and the air was filled with the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. at the center of it all was prince hector, his tall frame and noble bearing making him easily recognizable. beside him stood andromache, cradling their newborn son, both of them beaming with pride and joy.

you approached the head table with a steady gait, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself. you dipped your head respectfully, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, but you remained focused, constantly reminding yourself to not make a mistake in your mind as you were known to be a bit clumsy.

"wine, my lord?" you asked softly, voice barely above a whisper.

hector turned to you, his expression warm and kind. "yes, thank you," he said, gesturing to the goblet before him.

you carefully poured the wine, the liquid catching the light and sparkling as it filled the goblet. moving down the table, you repeated the process for andromache and the other guests. as you worked, you couldn't help but steal glances at the infant in andromache's arms. the baby boy, unaware of the significance of his birth, slept peacefully, his tiny chest rising and falling with each breath.

the celebration continued, the sounds of music and laughter filling the hall. you retreated to the edges of the room, task completed only for the moment. you watched the scene unfold, a mixture of longing and contentment in your heart. despite your status, you found joy in the happiness of others, even if it was a distant joy.

the night wore on and you remained vigilant, ready to attend to any needs that might arise. you and everyone else were unaware of the storm brewing beyond the walls of troy, the consequences of paris' actions casting a long shadow over the kingdom that would consume them in darkness in due time. for now, in this moment of peace, the future seemed bright and full of promise.

but you knew, as did everyone in troy, that peace was a fragile thing, easily shattered by the whims of fate. and as you stood in the grand hall, the echoes of the past and the whispers of the future intertwined, creating a tapestry of uncertainty that would shape the destiny of troy and all who lived within its walls.

lingering on the edges of the grand hall, your eyes scanning the room for any sign that you might be needed. the celebration for the birth of hector's son was still going even as night fell, the hall being brought alive with music and laughter.

suddenly, the room seemed to tilt as a hand gripped your shoulder, pulling you roughly into the light.

you turned to see hector's younger brother, prince deiphobus, his face flushed with wine and his eyes glazed with a drunken haze. he was known for his roguish charm, but tonight, it was more than evident that he had indulged too much.

"well, well, what do we have here?" he slurred, his hand wandering from your shoulder down your arm, lingering in a way that made your skin crawl. "a pretty little dove in the midst of all these hawks."

you stiffened, your pulse quickening as you bit your tongue, swallowing the surge of disgust that rose within you. you were a servant—a slave, and he was a prince. to resist would mean severe punishment, which meant you had no choice but to endure.

"my lord, can i get you some water?" you offered, hoping to distract him, your voice steady despite the turmoil within.

deiphobus laughed, a sound that was more menacing than mirthful. "water? no, i have something else in mind." his hand moved to your waist, drawing you closer as his breath was hot and reeking of alcohol against your ear. "tell me, does a slave like you know how to have fun?"

you forced a smile, the muscles in your face straining with the effort. "i am here to serve, my lord, in whatever way pleases you."

he grinned, his hand sliding lower. "good girl," he murmured, fingers tracing the curve of your hip. "i knew you would understand."

every fiber of your being screamed to pull away, but you remained still, eyes fixed on the ground. you could feel the weight of the guests' gazes on you, some watching with curiosity, others with indifference—after all, your plight meant nothing to them.

"why don't we find a quieter place, hmm?" deiphobus suggested, his tone laced with a dangerous edge.

"deiphobus," helenus called out from next to them, raising his goblet to his lips as he quirked a brow, voice calm but commanding. "leave her be."

deiphobus turned, a drunken sneer on his face. "ah, helenus. always the serious one. why don't you go back to your scrolls and leave the fun to me?"

helenus' eyes narrowed. "surely you can go one night without tainting another servant. find entertainment elsewhere and by the gods, remember that you're a prince, have some decorum."

deiphobus scoffed, but the firmness in helenus's voice gave him pause. he let go of you with a rough shove, making you stumble back. "fine, fine," he muttered, turning away with a dismissive wave. "always spoiling the fun."

helenus watched him go, his expression unchanging until deiphobus disappeared into the crowd. then, he turned to you, his gaze softening ever so slightly. "next time you ought to remember i won't be able to stop him, i suggest you find a way to keep your hands busy."

you nodded with a tug inside your chest. "yes, my lord, thank you."

with that, he looked away, drowning the conversation of the people around him as his own servants served him grapes. you took a deep breath, your hands trembling slightly as you took helenus' advice, moving around the large room to keep yourself occupied and out of the sight of deiphobus.

you felt the fragility of peace hanging in the air, a feeling of knowing that the celebration of new life was shadowed by the impending storm. yet, within the confines of your role, you found a flicker of strength, a resolve to endure whatever fate the gods had in store for you.

author’s note. comment your thoughts, if this does well I’ll continue it over on here and might put more effort into the account. you can find this story also on my wattpad account. thanks for reading!

[clawsdevour]

hii can i have a kuroo x fem reader who is sick pls??

in kuroo's care

wc: 0.7k content warning: fluff, kuroo x reader who's sick, not proofread, my shitty writing

note: YOU FREAKING GET ME. SICK READER X KUROO WHO TAKES CARE OF YOU UGGHHHHH HE'S SO HUSBAND. HOPEFULLY U ENJOYYYY THIS SHORT SCENARIO !!!!

୭ ˚○,.

Waking up later than usual, your mind was so hazed and scrambled. Your forehead felt like a hot firework about to be released in the sky in the smelting humid air on the Fourth of July. Mustering all your strength to shuffle your head to turn to your left. Kuroo wasn’t at your side in bed with you, he’d already left for work as he usually leaves earlier than you. You groan, feeling horribly cold as you quiver under your warm covers. 

Occupied with promoting volleyball across the nation, Kuroo gets a phonecall from your workplace. He’s been informed as your emergency contact, and learns that you didn’t show up to work today. Kuroo furrows his brows in suspicion from hearing your work tell him about your unexplained absence. Ending the call, getting up from where he sat. Kuroo hurriedly grabs his blazer that was hanging on the back of his desk chair and calls off the rest of his day for work to see you.

You’re laying in bed eyes shut, soundly snoozing until you heard your bedroom door open with a slight clunk. Holding his blazer over his right shoulder, his heart sinks at the sight of you laying in bed with the covers wrapped around you. You’re overheating and struggling to breathe through your stuffed nosed. Rushing towards your side, Kuroo’s hand is feeling the warm temperature all over your face. 

“Kuroo… is that you?” Shifting your heavy head your hoarse low voice muttered out. Through your eyelashes you see Kuroo with an expression of worry spread across his face. You’re trying your best to keep your gaze on him as he’s feeling the heat emit from your face.

“Yes, I’m here. Why didn’t you tell me you’re sick?” Looking into your eyes, whispering to prevent your head from throbbing. “Hold on, let me get you a wet washcloth really quick.”

Nodding your head before he heads to the bathroom. Your eyes droop, letting your drowsiness consume you. Hearing his steps grow louder in your direction, you feel a cool dampness press against your forehead and a large hand caress your furiously warm cheek. Seeing him in the corner of your vision you avert your gaze to see what he has to say.

“I’m gonna head out to get you some medical rememdies to make you feel better, m’kay? Don’t move, I’ll be back.” He’s stepping back, grabbing his wallet out from his pants pocket. Kuroo slips on his blazer, making adjustments as he swiftly strides out of the bedroom.

At the corner of your house, Kuroo’s looking at the medicine and health aisle. He picks up what he believes would be the best remedies to fight back against your cold. Reading all the colored labels that say things that best fits the description of the state you’re currently bedridden in. Scanning and paying for the items, Kuroo dashes back home knowing your sickness wouldn’t get any better if he walked.

Back in your bedroom, he switched out your current washcloth for a cooler one, freshly dipped and wrang out for your warm forehead. Pulling a chair to sit next to you, he’s put all of the remedies on your side table.

Spoon in hand, pouring the thick liquid that takes shape of the utensil. In your deep slumber, you feel a cold metal prob against the opening of your mouth. You fight back against your eyes, peeking at him through your heavy eyelids, Kuroo’s spoonfeeding you some bright blue cough syrup that tasted like mint.

“Say, ‘Ahh’ and take this medicine will you? You won’t get any better if you don’t open up.” Kuroo’s soft silky voice cooes at you. Parting open your lips, the minty syrup enters your mouth which you swallow down feeling the cool mint drip down your throat. Putting the spoon down, he’s observing you with his mouth curved into a gentle smile. “Rest up, before dinner. I’m gonna cook you a nice warm soup to eat.” Kuroo fluffs your pillow at the sides and tucks you into bed, one last glance at you before turning off the lights to let you recover.

masterlist here

[endlessthxxghts]

Joel Nye, The Science Guy

no outbreak!Joel Miller x afab!reader || W/C: ≈4.6k

"Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would."

Summary: Joel stumbles across an article online about the effects of coffee on the body. Determined to uncover the truth, he tests the hypothesis with you as his subject.

Contents/Warnings: Any physical description of reader is neutral (no size descriptions). Joel is bigger than you though (but he’s fucking huge in general, so…). No age mentioned for reader or for Joel. Implied established relationship. No matter what age, Joel is a grandpa when it comes to technology. Mentions of Amazon LMAO. SMUT 18+ MDNI (mutual masturbation on the phone, touching yourself in the workplace, dirty talk, sexting [kinda], ..kitchen activities…reflections…, finger fucking, lots of liquids, squirting, cumming untouched, drinking coffee with an ulterior motive!, allusion to further sexual endeavors). Please let me know if I missed anything!

A/N: Happy New Year, my loves! I just got done rewatching TLOU for the millionth time while drinking some coffee, and for some reason, this was born. I have no idea wtf this is, so don't ask me.💚 Also let’s thank @javierpena-inatacvest for titling this silly thing for me hehe. Fucking iconic. I love you, bestie.🥹 Here's to my first fic of 2024, and to many more! I hope you enjoy.💚

MASTERLIST

Joel’s number one favorite sensation every morning was when the first drop of the bitter, black liquid met his tongue, consuming all his senses into nothing but pure coffee. It was one of his favorite things—past tense—because then he got to experience what it was like waking up to you every morning, what it was like tasting you every morning. The first drop of you blessed his tongue one year ago, and he never looked back.

That is, until now. 

You had work today and Joel had the day off, a rare occurrence. You forgot to set your alarm this morning, so you broke from his hold in a rush, leaving him nothing but a sweet kiss to last him the day. 

Usually your mornings together are spent tangled in his sheets until he leaves you with less than twenty minutes to get ready for your day. Too addicted to the way he makes you feel, you mastered the art of quick change, using the rest of your time to do your morning skincare routine. This, you’ll never skip—subjecting yourself to a few scoldings by your boss because of it.

Joel allowed himself a few more hours of sleep after you left, his body needing extra rest from his unusually crazy day at the job site yesterday and from the way you pounced on him as soon as he came home. You promised him it would be you doing all the work, but like the addicting little thing you are, he couldn’t help but take charge so he could watch you fall apart over and over and over again. 

Joel pulled himself out of his bed, a chill running down his body from leaving the trapped body heat of the sheets. He was hard, of course, and usually you’re there to help with his morning problem, but apparently today’s full of rare events for Joel. He grumbles to himself as he makes the way to the bathroom, not wanting to take care of himself without you, not anymore. He could wait for you to be home, but he knows he’d be a leaking, grumpy mess all day—God forbid he has to interact with another human in that aroused, frustrated state. He checks the little clock you bought for his bathroom counter when you moved in—so I can watch the time when I get ready for work, you scolded him when he made you late for the first time. 

11:48 the clock displays; twelve more minutes until your break. He can wait twelve minutes. You usually close your office during your lunch, don’t you? Maybe he can call you. He might as well do his own morning routine while he waits. Joel’s old morning routines consisted of brushing his teeth, then washing his face with soap and water. Though, upon witnessing his wretched routine the first morning you two spent together, you were utterly appalled at his actions, forcing him to the store and spending the first half of your morning educating him on proper skincare. His morning routine went from four minutes to fifteen with your influence, but because he didn’t want to be a minute late in calling you, he shaved three minutes off from his task. 

As soon as the clock hit twelve, Joel plopped himself in bed, leaning against the headboard, and reached for his phone, immediately dialing you. 

Two rings later, and your sweet voice fills his ears. “Hi, baby,” you say. He can hear the small smile on your face. 

“Hi, darlin’,” Joel rasps, his voice still groggy from the lack of use. 

“You just wake up?” You jokingly scold, knowing damn well what the answer was. You like when he sleeps in. He deserves the rest from all that hard work he does. 

“Maybe,” he tells you. You can hear the smirk on his face now. “How’s work goin’? On your break now?”

“Work is… definitely going,” you huff. “And yeah, I’m on my break now, which means I’ve got an hour to counterproductively stress about these reports that have to go out.”

“I’m sorry, honey,” he tells you softly. But then he’s smirking again. “Can I help?”

“Help?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he states like it’s the most regular answer ever. “Lemme help de-stress ya,” he adds, his voice dropping an octave. 

A heat consumes your face, but you remain calm. “Yeah?” You breathe. “And how would you help me, cowboy?” You ask him as you swiftly stand from your desk to lock your office door and close your blinds. 

“I reckon you just locked that door of yours, huh?” He asks rhetorically, knowing you better than you know yourself. Not even your past lovers would be able to pick up on the slightest of changes in your voice when you’re aroused. Joel picks up on it instantly. 

“Maybe,” you repeat his sentiment from earlier. 

“If I’m remembering correctly,” Joel says as he rubs his hand over his tenting bulge in an attempt to ease his ache. “You’ve got a couch in there, baby?”

“Yeah,” you whisper.

“Well, you know what to do next, babygirl.” 

Glancing at your door to make sure it’s really locked, you make your way to your couch, unbuttoning your jeans in the process and shucking them down as your ass meets the cushion. Fuck, you’re already soaked. 

“Where are you?” You ask him, your fingers ghosting your core over the wet patch on your panties.

As soon as the words leave your mouth, your phone buzzes. Joel sent you a text. An image. Clicking it, a breathy little whimper escapes you. “Fuck.” He’s leaning against the headboard, legs pushed open, his thick thighs on display. He’s just wearing his boxers, and his hand is inside, gripping onto his length. His leaking, angry tip is showing from the top of his boxers. A little circle catches your eye, and- oh. It’s a live photo. You hold down on the image, and you see his hips jerk into his hand. “Fuck,” you say again, your pussy twitching in excitement yet frustration that you can’t have him inside you right now. “I need you so fucking bad, Joel,” you whine into the phone as your fingers finally dip inside. 

“I need you, too, baby,” he groans, “I’m fuckin’ dyin’ over here.” He sounds so pained. It riles you up even more. Your fingers speed up at his words, breathy moans escaping you. You circle your clit a few more times before reaching lower and dipping your middle and index finger inside of you. Joel hears the faintest sound of a squelch, and the grip on his cock tightens. He pulls his boxers completely down over his thighs, his cock completely free, and he tugs at a slow, teasing pace in an effort to build himself up the way you normally do for him. “Let me hear you, baby, let me hear you touch yourself for me.”

Lord, you hope your room is sound proofed enough because without any hesitation, you’re putting him on speaker and setting your phone down near your cunt, pumping in and out of yourself faster and deeper for him to hear. “J-Joel, f-fuck,” you stutter, “I- I’m-”

“You’re close, baby, I know,” he says soothingly. You can hear the slick sound of his hand speed up. Your other hand falls to your clit as your fingers continue inside. “Let go for me, mi amor, soak those fingers as if it were my cock fuckin’ you,” he rambles. “Just like I know you can, baby, atta fuckin’ girl.”

With the help of his filthy mouth, your body seizes up and you’re seeing stars, your eyes falling to the back of your head as you remove your hand from your clit to slap it over your mouth in an attempt to stop the high-pitched, purely pornographic moan of his name from escaping the walls of your not-so private office. You can hear the moment Joel cums, too, a painful groan roars from his throat as you hear the movements slow but get slippier with each pass over. 

You’re on the phone for a few moments more, listening to each other’s breaths, slowly fixing your clothing as you let your heart rate return to normal. 

“Joel,” you finally have enough strength to say. 

“Yeah, darlin’?”

He hears a faint knock on your door. You pull the phone away to lessen your volume on his end. Just a moment, he hears you call out. “Gonna need more of you when I get home.” 

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel replies more than happily.

After your phone call, Joel cleans and dresses himself up and heads to the kitchen. 

Joel can’t help the way your words bounce around his head. Gonna need more of you when I get home.

“And I’m definitely gonna need a fuck ton of you today,” he mutters to the bag of Colombian coffee grounds he pulls out of his kitchen cabinet. He refills the machine with water, inserts a filter, pours two heaping spoonfuls of the ground beans into the compartment, places a mug, and hits start. He goes to put the coffee away, but it’s then he feels how lightweight the bag is starting to feel. 

Genuinely, he begins to panic. He needs to order more, and he needs to do it now. He cannot go a day without his precious coffee. The brand he orders is online only, and usually he would wait for you to help him place the order, but he doesn’t want to risk hitting the cutoff for same day delivery. 

Joel isn’t that old, and he certainly grows with the time period, but when it comes to technology, he’s worse than your 97-year-old grandmother who attempts to group FaceTime both of you every night. Sure, he knows how to send you pictures, but that’s the extent of his ability. Truly. With his coffee in mind, though, he puts on his bravest face and opens Safari. He searches for the website you’re always on. A, he types. M. A. Z. 

There! Amazon. He clicks the website, not knowing the app is already installed on his phone. He sees the smiling logo, and, proud of himself, he smiles back at it. 

The smile is quick to fade, however, because the intricacies of working the website is giving him heart palpitations. He sets his phone down and reaches for his reading glasses in his pocket and slides them on. He picks up his phone again. 

The thing about using Amazon on a phone through a search engine, though, is that the website is constantly glitching. So when he types in the word coffee, he has zero idea how he ended up on a completely different website, his original search lost in the complicated webs of the internet. 

It takes him a moment to realize what he’s reading, but once it registers, it’s way more interesting than his original task. 

Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee, the headline read. His eyes begin to scan lower. Researchers concluded there was a “correlation between caffeine and sex” after testing its effects on rats.

Oh, yeah, he’s intrigued. 

After reading the article, Joel restarts his original task and ends up ordering a larger amount of coffee than he normally would. In the name of science, he rationalized with himself.

Satisfied with his accomplishments, he grabs his mug and takes the time to enjoy his cup of pure caffeine. He needs the energy after all.

You get off promptly at 4pm, not wanting to spend any more time in your office—especially with the way you’ve been buzzing with need ever since your noon phone call. As soon as you park, you see an Amazon delivery person dropping off a box. They don’t ring the doorbell, and you know Joel doesn’t pay attention to the delivery notifications.

You get out of your car, leaving your things to get later. You reach the front porch and unlock and open the door first, bending down and picking up the box second. 

Joel greets you at the door, immediately cursing himself for not paying attention to the door, resulting in you doing the heavy lifting. He knows you’re more than capable—Hell, you could probably handle his job better than he can—but his Southern upbringing is too deeply rooted into him to allow anything less. 

“Hi, my love, I’m sorry, I coulda brought that in, baby,” he tells you as he takes the box from your grasp, giving you a forehead kiss as a trade off. The warmth of his lips physically relaxes you. 

You two walk towards the kitchen, Joel sets the box down on the counter. “I just parked as they dropped it off, honey, it was no biggie,” you reply softly. 

“I know, baby, but you know I-” he starts. You don’t let him finish as you grab him by his biceps and pull him into you, your arms finding their home wrapped around his neck as his grip completely wrapping your waist. Your lips slot together in a slow, needy embrace—your tongues slowly breaching each other’s mouths. You swallow the groans escaping his throat as you pull away from him. 

“I know,” you say breathily, eyes as dark as his morning coffee. “Won’t do it again, promise,” you smile, knowing this is the only false promise you’ll ever make. At the rate of how hard you work him in other things, carrying a few heavy boxes is the least you could do every now and then. “Now, please undress me, baby,” you whimper, your hand skating down the front of his body, your deft fingers sliding into his waistband. 

With one arm around your waist, another claws at your top, untucking it from your jeans to lift it over your head as he kisses and nips all over your jaw and neck. He turns your body so that your ass meets the counter, pushing his hips into yours, silently telling you to jump up. 

Too eager, you don’t realize the trajectory of your jump, and your ass smacks the package, causing it to almost slip off the edge. The impact to your rear surprises you enough to pull away from Joel and look back. Apparently, your brain is already turned to mush because you completely forgot about that box’s existence. 

However, now that you’re looking at it, you’re confused. You haven’t ordered anything recently. Did Joel order something? But he doesn’t even know how- 

“You okay, darlin’?” Joel asks, pausing all his movements. 

“Did you order something?” You ask.

His cheeks go red. “Yeah.. we were runnin’ out of my coffee ‘n I didn’t want to not have any for tomorrow or for later ‘n I wasn’t sure what time you’d be home to help me-” 

The bubbly sounds of your giggles are what cut him off. “What?” He asks, slightly defensive and slightly giddy at the sweetness blessing his ears. 

“You ordered something!” You exclaim. “You ordered something! And you were successful with it!” You’re gasping for air, speaking your excitement into his chest as you wrap yourself around him. 

“Don’t make fun a’me,” he pouts, grabbing your chin with his thumb and forefinger, giving your face a little scolding shake. 

“Oh, baby, no,” you coo, your laughter calming down because of the pain in your cheeks from smiling so wide. “I’m not making fun. I’m so proud!” your voice raises back up, as if you were talking to a baby who hit their first big milestone. 

He rolls his eyes. “Baby, don’t be like that,” you say as you lean in to give him a soft kiss. He gives in, of course, and he deepens it. “I really am proud,” you say as you attempt to pull away. 

He doesn’t let you. “Yeah, yeah,” he says sardonically in between kisses. 

Your hand drags up and grabs at his jaw, pulling him away so you can speak. “Now you don’t have to ask me to order things for you anymore,” you say with a smirk.

“Mmm, I don’t think so,” he breathes, trying to push against your hold on him. “Worst experience ever, I even-” 

He cuts himself off because he was so caught up in you when you got home, he forgot about the little detour his internet experience took him on today. 

Women reporting intensified orgasms after drinking coffee. 

“Actually,” he redirects. “Can we have some now?”

Your eyes pop out of your head in astonishment. “Right now?” you ask in disbelief. 

He gulps. “Y-yeah, right now. That okay?”

You don’t see why not besides the fact that his erection has been perched right against the soaked fabric of your panties for the last fifteen minutes and you’ll probably go mad if you don’t actually get relief in the next five minutes—but yeah, sure. Why not?

“I guess?” You say. Or ask? You really don’t know anymore. 

Is he really choosing coffee right now over having you? I mean, not to toot your own fucking horn, but seriously. Who would delay an orgasm for some coffee? Apparently, Joel fucking Miller would.

You’re not really a coffee person. Sure, you have a cup here and there—mostly iced and from your favorite local shop on your way to work—but compared to Joel, you are nowhere near the level he is. 

“How do you want it?” He asks, his back turned to you as he prepares two mugs. 

“Rough,” you mutter, slightly annoyed. You can feel the slick in your underwear start to get cold—and dry. 

Joel briefly turns around catching your eye; he points to his ear. “Say that again, sweetheart?” 

Fuck. Okay, maybe you’re being a little too bitchy. You rise from your seat at the counter, perching yourself right beside him, reaching your hand into his curls to give him a little head scratch. “I’ll do it, baby,” you say. “Thank you.” With your hand still at the back of his head, you guide him to look at you as you stand on your tippy toes to give him a soft kiss.

The coffee, honestly, wasn’t that bad. Yeah, you put your usual creamer and sugar, but you put slightly less—curious to get a glimpse of the natural flavor Joel loves so much. You could get used to it like this, you think. One thing is for sure, though: the brand Joel buys is fucking strong. You’re on your last sip, and you are struggling—you can feel your heart pumping out of your chest, and you swear you feel like your entire body is pulsing. Like you can hear your blood coursing through your veins. You don’t tell Joel because you don’t want to sound weird, so you shrug the feeling away and take your last sip. Perfectly in sync with you, Joel finishes off his coffee and reaches for your mug to also bring to the sink. 

Quickly letting the faucet run into the mugs so the coffee doesn’t stain, Joel speaks up. “How was it, darlin’? I know you don’t really enjoy coffee the way I do,” he notes. 

“Actually, baby, I really enjoyed it,” you say with a genuine smile. 

“Yeah?” He asks, a boyish grin sneaking past his lips.

“Yeah,” you reassure. “It was really strong, though,” you add. 

“Strong?” he asks, eyebrow quirked. 

“Yeah, um-” you start, unsure of how to describe it. “I don’t know, I just- I’ve never had coffee make my entire body feel like- like it’s buzzing or something. I don’t know,” you ramble. 

“Huh,” he says to no one in particular. “I mean, it is one of the stronger roasts,” he tells you. Is this because you were already severely worked up beforehand? It can’t be the placebo effect—he didn’t even tell you about his discoveries. 

Guess there’s only one way to go from here. 

Not giving you a chance to respond, his hands find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest. He kisses your jaw, trailing his lips down the juncture of your neck and shoulder. Your head falls back onto him, your eyes fluttering shut as you give him full access. His fingers skate across the front of your jeans, your shirt already untucked from his earlier attempt. Your hips buck into his hands in response, a whiny little please leaves your mouth. 

“Shh, I got ya, sweet girl,” he rasps in your ear, his drawl licking a heat up your spine. He adjusts himself so he’s the one leaning against the kitchen counter, your body entirely relying on his support to keep you standing. 

He’s unbuttoning your jeans and right away you’re reaching for the zipper, helping him pull your bottoms down in one go. 

You’re shaking in his grasp, too pent up with a need your body doesn’t know what to do with. “Relax, baby, I’ma take care a’ya,” he says with a nip to your shoulder, his middle and ring finger already finding their place running through your soaked folds. 

Your eyes shut at the sensation, your breathing erratic and vocal. He drags your slick up to your throbbing bundle of nerves, circling with a precision only he knows how to provide. “F-fuck,” you moan. His other hand slides down to your sex, his two fingers going straight for your entrance and sliding in with ease with how much is pouring from you. “Fuckfuckfuck-”

“Gonna cum on my fingers, babygirl?” He’s pumping in and out of you at a languid pace even with the squirm of your hips. The stimulation on your clit never falters. “I can feel that pretty pussy flutter ‘round me, darlin’, I know she’s close.”

“J-Joel, please,” you let out, your head bobbing back and forth, unable to keep its heavy weight up.

Before he even realizes what he’s doing, he’s using his foot to kick your legs further apart, settling yours on the outside of his, and then both of you are dropping to the ground. His back is to the wall of the kitchen island while you land perfectly spread open atop his lap. Not worried about his or your balance anymore, he fucks into you harder, applying more pressure on your clit—the kind that makes you want to force your legs shut but you can’t, not with the way his own legs are keeping you open. “Open your eyes, sweet girl, need ya to look at yourself when you fuckin’ soak me.”

You open your eyes immediately and cast your eyes downward to his hands on you. “Nuh uh,” Joel tuts. His hand working your clit comes up to your jaw, your slick dampening your jaw as he guides you to look straight forward. Your reflection stares back at you from the dark oven window. Even in the dull image its showing you, you can see the way your pussy is glistening in the fluorescent kitchen light, the sweat dripping down your temples, your fucked-out face with Joel’s dark gaze ravaging every part of you. 

Everything—all of your senses—is completely Joel, Joel, Joel, and before you know it, you’re gushing into his hand; his newfound liquid gold ever since he met you, collecting into the depths of his palm, all while you’re roaring and thrashing out in pure bliss on top of him. 

The sight, sound, the feel, everything—just like you—consumes him whole. His lust takes over now, and his hands aren’t stopping. They continue their pace—their assault—on your sensitive core. He peers down over your shoulder, and his cock grows impossibly harder at the messy, slippery sight before him. “Christ,” he mutters under his breath. “Gimme one more, c’mon,” he breathes in, your scent beginning to linger into his nose, crawling into his skin and finding its home there. “I know you can gimme one more, baby, always such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

Your head is nodding furiously as you fight with your eyes to stay open and locked on your reflection. Your babbling, spit thick and coating every inch of your mouth as you try and respond. Mhm and one and more and fuck break free from your mouth, giving all the green light Joel needs to know he isn’t going too far. 

You turn your head to face Joel, your hand flying to the back of his curls and pulling him for a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue—an intermingling of each other’s spit as you swallow the other’s coffee-tinged breaths. 

He feels the flutter in your cunt once more, but this time it’s stronger, tighter. The way you’re clamping down on him sends him into a frenzy, his hips rutting his erection into your lower back at the feel of your warmth wrapped around him. “C’mon, baby, let go, I feel you,” he encourages. 

“Fuck-!” A high-pitched gasp turned whine comes out of your mouth as your entire body goes rigid, your pussy uncontrollably fluttering and spasming as Joel fucks you through your high. All you see is white, your body is engulfed by a tingly feeling that only describing it as TV static could do it justice. Your breathing is deep and shallow all at one, but more notably, you feel wet. Completely and utterly soaked, you can feel liquid pooling at your asscheeks and on the hardwood floor. 

You finally gather the strength to look down—Joel too, and he steals the words right from your mouth. “Holy. Fuck.”

You two stay there for a moment, trying to gather your thoughts on what the fuck just happened, and finally, you speak first. 

“I just-” you start. 

“You did,” he finishes, equally as shocked. Amazed. 

“How are we gonna-”

He rubs your thighs. “Can you stand?” 

You think for a moment. “Yeah, I think so.”

“I’ll get up first. Then I’ll pull you up. Just don’t move, I don’t need ya slippin’ on-”

“Yeah, okay,” you stop him, feeling slightly embarrassed about it all. 

He stands up, avoiding the little puddle below; then he pulls you up, kneeling to pull your underwear on for some sense of emotional comfort. “Hey.” He nudges your face with his hand to look into his eyes. “That was fuckin’ incredible. Ya hear me?” Heat washes over your entire face. You say nothing. “It was so fuckin’ hot and sexy and so so beautiful, I’m fuckin’ lucky to have witnessed somethin’ so heavenly, darlin’.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Ya hear me?” he repeats his question, softer this time. 

The embarrassment washes away in an instant. “Well,” you look into his eyes, a flash of trouble dancing across your orbs. “Felt fuckin’ incredible, too.”

“Yeah,” Joel says, grabbing and guiding your hand down to his cock. “It did feel mighty incredible,” smugness written all over his face. 

He dips your hand inside his pants, and you're met with his half-hard, sticky length. “Joel, did you-”

“That I did, baby, that I did.” 

A moment passes, and you burst out into laughter for the second time tonight. Only this time, Joel joins in, completely taking advantage of how sweet the comedown always is with you.

“I think I oughta drink more of that coffee,” you say out of the blue, taking Joel completely off guard as he finishes wiping up your… spill. 

“Why?” he asks, trying to maintain a normal tone.

“I swear, Joel,” you whisper as if there’s other people listening in. “I swear that coffee is the reason I finished so… intensely,” you finish, your eyebrows raised in intrigue and curiosity. 

“You really think so?” Joel asks, a victory smile threatening to escape him. 

“Yeah,” you tell him. “I think we should test it out. You’re off tomorrow, yeah?”

“Well, I am now.”

End note: The article Joel stumbled upon is a real article LOL. Here it is, in case any of you were interested. The article is from 2023, so by all means, picture 56 year old Joel. I’m imagining him a bit younger in this lil AU, but there’s no explicit age description, so imagine whatever the hell you want😘. And in case you were wondering: yes, he ends up telling you about his intentions behind wanting to drink coffee first. Let's just say... you both end up getting hyperfixated on trying to "prove" this theory even though you both damn well know what the result is. ;) All my love, I hope you guys enjoyed.💚

Be sure to follow @endlessthxxghtsnotifs to stay up to date with my stories!!

Utilizing my taglist a few more times just to have a slow transition to my updates blog! @katiexpunk @janaispunk @farmerlarrry @mellymbee @jobee403 @soavenuepenguin @rainbowcosmicchaos @untamedheart81 @lilynotdilly @babygal-babygal @pedritoferg @pedrostories @akah565 @getitoutofmymind @axshadows @survivingandenduring @joels-shitty-puns @its-nebuleuse @axshadows @yorksgirl

[leezlelatch]

On a Moth’s Delicate Wing

Secondo x F!Reader - Yearning, unrequited to requited love, mild Catholic Church bashing, insecurity, comfort, fluff. Written for and inspired by @writingjourney. Secondo enjoys a quiet session of study with the woman he has fallen so rapidly for.

The clock struck the hour. Grey clouds danced in the sky, thunder rumbling in the distance as they opened, cascading rain tumbling to the ground in skipping droplets which created a pleasant thrum of white noise on the roof. Secondo closes his eyes, drawing breath through his nostrils, taking in the smell from the open window. He stands, his dark slacks shifts against his thighs as he approaches the window, opening it wider. He leans his hands on the sill, watching the raindrops patter against his skin, soothing against his arthritic joints.

A book sat open on his desk next to steaming cup of tea, and he turns from the storm to pick it up, blowing a little on the dark liquid before taking a sip. “And what have we learned, falenina?” He murmurs, his eyes finding you, perched on his couch with the same book in your lap. He smiles as your hair catches the breeze from outside, a few errant strays curling around your neck and cheek. He so longed to reach out and brush them back, to glide his fingers through hair you never let air dry. Perhaps the rain on his fingers would wetten the strands, and he would watch in delight as they would curl and spread out in the humidity of the room. Only then may he gain an idea of what you look like when you first wake up, or after you’ve shared your body with someone who loves you just right.

It should be him.

“After the Catholic Church began to sell indulgences, the Satanic Church saw an increase in worshippers,” you murmur, your eyes scanning the page of the book you have both been studying.

“And why is that?” He pushes, leaning against his desk, one arm crossed over his stomach as the other is preoccupied with holding his mug. He takes another drink, his mustache twitching from the heat of the beverage.

“Because selling tickets into heaven revealed to a people already ravaged by plague that the church was corrupt. Is corrupt. And they sought a faith that wouldn’t lie to them,” you conclude, placing your bookmark between the pages. “They still practice something of that today, yeah?”

Secondo tilts his head in consideration, placing his mug down. He makes a turn about the room, his eyes scanning the various paintings on his walls depicting the duality of man, the masculine and the feminine, the Morningstar in his glory. He stops at one. De Goya, Saturn Devouring his Son, and he stands in contemplation. “The Catholic Church regularly consumes those who seek guidance,” he murmurs. “It is their unending covenant. To draw in lost souls and spit them out changed. And sometimes, changed for the worst.” He turns to look at her. “We seek to show them the truth. That paradise is not so easily earned with a tithe.”

“Our Siblings contribute to the Church,” you point out, watching him closely. He likes the way you look at him. Your gaze is searching, and as your pretty eyes pass over his face, your lips curve at the corners. Even now, paint-less and in his slacks and vest, you find him attractive. There are no barriers between the two of you, you see him as the man he is. Long-lived and jaded, you see his flaws and you smile. How could a man such as he be worthy of the little moth’s attention?

“They do. But we are plain in our words, falenina. In our actions. Our Siblings know that any contribution they seek to give will be given back to them. Through renovation and upkeep of the residency, the chapel, the grounds.” He moves to the couch, sitting down beside her, one leg crossing over the other. “The meals we take together.”

Your smile grows, and you close the book, sitting it aside in favor of turning toward him, sitting cross legged on the couch. “You don’t often eat with us, Papa.”

He makes a gruff noise, turning equally in your direction, one arm slung over the back of the couch. His eyes are dark as he watches you, perhaps strange for a man with one green eye and one white, but they were dark nevertheless. Assessing in his stare which held a thousand secrets, and a weary yearning. “I prefer to cook for myself. Which you would know if you accepted my invitation.”

Your cheeks bloom a lovely shade of pink. Secondo wants to run his tongue across your heated skin, tasting your blush. His eyes linger on the apples of your cheeks, a sense of pride filling his chest. He makes you blush. Him. This old, bitter man full of too much loneliness flusters the most beautiful woman in the Ministry. It feels good, to be desirable. Unless…

“You do not wish to,” he concludes, his voice almost strained. He clears his throat to hide how the mere thought of your rejection affects him. The brief flare of agony which makes him want to sweep a hand across his desk, clearing it of everything to silence the cacophony in his mind with the crash.

“I want to,” you say, your voice soft. It captures his attention immediately, his hand dropping from the couch to linger near your crossed legs. Aching to touch you. “But I would want to keep coming back. And then I wouldn’t want to leave.” Your eyes fall to the surface of the couch and Secondo wants to cry out, to scream at you to keep looking at him.

He couldn’t believe his ears, and then he does touch you, his hand brushing against your leg. The small intake of breath, the flush on your cheeks, it would drive any man to insanity. And Secondo was the least sane of them all. “Do you not understand, amore mio?” He murmurs, a sort of laugh to his voice. It wasn’t at you, but at the incredulity of the situation. That you could possibly feel the same as him. “I do not want you to leave. You cannot leave.”

When next your eyes meet his, Secondo suddenly understands everything. The moth, a nocturnal creature, flies toward the light. And this moth, Secondo’s falenina, is leading him from the darkness toward the brightest future. One he never fathomed for himself, but is grateful for all the same. “You are intertwined in my soul like a witch’s knot. Unbreakable,” he whispers. “A gift from Lucifer himself.”

You stand from the couch in a rush, your steps quick across the office floor. He nearly lunges after you, panic entering his heart as you whip around, your eyes wild with bewilderment. And fear. “I can’t be,” you say, your voice breathless. “I’m not…” The words don’t seem to come to you for a moment, and you grapple for a thought, your eyes darting around the room. “I’m me.”

The conclusion and finality in your voice springs him from the couch and his arms are encircling you. One hand is at your waist, squeezing fast, pressing you to him while the other cradles the back of your head, sliding his fingers in your hair in just the way he has dreamed. “Sì, you are you,” he says passionately, pressing his burning cheek against your own. “And I dream of you. I ache for you in the night and my very being writhes in agony when you are not there. I sit here each day, and I gaze you at you, amore mio, I look at you so deeply and I see the most adoring soul. A woman with the cleverest eyes, thoughtful and careful with her words. A woman who has the silliest jokes and makes an old man laugh more than he has in decades. I see you. And I need you.” Those last words are said with awe. He is in awe over you.

You say nothing in response, and he pulls back to look down at you, his eyes frantically searching your face. “I am a fool, sì?” He whispers. “An old fool.”

“No,” you whisper, eyes wide and glassy with tears. “You are my love.”

Secondo could collapse if he wasn’t holding you in his arms in that very moment. He presses his forehead against yours, a strangled gasp leaving him as his mind and heart absorb those precious words spoken to him. “I suddenly forget what we were doing before this,” he says with a small laugh, voice thick with emotion.

You smile, your arms looping around his neck. A tear falls down your cheek and he kisses it away with a brush of his lips. “We were talking about the Catholic Church.”

Secondo snorts, pulling you backward until he falls to the couch, his grip firm as you land in his lap, straddling him. His fingers capture your chin in a tight grip, and he smiles at you. His eyes are dark again. “Hail Satan.” His lips find yours.

[junipers-archive]

Water

Word Count: 550 Includes: fluff,fluff, fluff! spencer and reader are not together but...well yk. Spencer is concerned reader isnt drinking enough water and reader is not taking the critisism (light-hearted)

You were sitting on the jet with the team, having gone over the case files you had all split up to your preferred parts of the plane in peace.

You and Spencer had taken the two chairs sitting across from one another silently reading your books.

Well, that was until you asked a simple question,

"Does-uh sorry but does anyone have any lotion?" Emily was the first to respond as she started to rummage through her numerous bags,

"yea I think i have some in my go-bag"

That was simple wasn't it?, You had been feeling patricularly dry that week, with patches of dry-spots on you face which sadly you hadn't found the permenant cure for.

Spencer had been noticing but didn't want to add anything as not to offend, but this was getting hard to watch.

"You know, dryness occurs on the face typically when a person isn't consuming enough liquids or in a more common case water throughout the day, to ease this, lotion can be found to help, especially organic lotions containing oats, soothing emollients and no fragrance as to not further agitate the area, but if you're looking for a more permanent solution...drink some water y/n."

You were...preturbed by this comment to say the least, I mean did he really think it was okay to be talking about your water-drinking habits (or lack thereof) on the jet right now?

"I drink plenty of water thank you very much Spence."

He smirked at this remark, "What's in your tumbler right now?"

"What?"

"The tumbler you always carry around. Whats in it right now?"

Was he smiling?

"Thats really none of your business."

"Come on share with the class." he was relentless and snarky.

"Coffee." to your ego's ailment it came out in a whisper.

"And thats what, your third one today?"

Was he really doing this, "Again none of your business..." but even you knew you might have a problem.

And Apparently having everyone stare at you wasn't enough he had to go and make it worse as he stole your favorite tumbler, holding it just out of your reach.

"Give it back Spencer!" You were leaning over the table, causing a spectacle, but you didn't care, you paid good money for that cup.

"Not until you drink some water." He nodded to his own glass, which conveinently for him was filled with water and right between the two of you.

And yea maybe it was childish, this game you two played all the time, but were going to win.

"No."

"Y/n just drink the water." Really now Rossi was involved?

"No! This is ridiculous, ludicrous, overstepping" Now you were sounding like Spencer "absurd, ridiculous and not to mention-"

"Drink The Water!" this came out less clearly but audible enough for you to get the message as the rest of the team, including Spencer essentially yelled at you to drink some water.

In a last attempt to redeem your pride from the pits of Tartarus, you stuck your tounge out at Spencer before downing the glass of water and then making a show the empty glass by turning it upside down.

He then returned your tumbler and grinned.

"See, now was that so hard?"

As you were about to make a quip back, once more Rossi beat you to it having the entire jet in giggles besides you and Spencer,

"Oh make out already!"

[multifandoms27-blog]

First Kiss

Content: TFP! Megatron x Fem! T/O! Reader

Warnings: Drug use

Notes: The T/O above stands for techno-organic. Y'all already know I had to write about my favorite bot

• ───────────────── •

Entering the control room, you looked around at the unusually empty room. Normally Vehicons and Soundwave would be in here, but today, it's just Megatron. He had called for you over the comms, and you hoped you weren't about to get the Starscream treatment.

"You called for me, my liege?"

Megatron stood in front of the biggest screen that was currently off, and served as a window now. The stars and dark sky made him hard to see, if it weren't for the dim lights in the room. He had his servos clasped behind his back, and he slowly turned to look at you.

"Yes, I have called you. I wanted to...address something peculiar I heard." Megatron spoke...softly? Why was he speaking softly?

"And that would be?" You asked.

He let out a small chuckle and fully turned to you, letting his servos fall to his sides. In large strides, he was suddenly in front of you. Raising one servo, he placed it under your chin to ensure you wouldn't look away.

"Soundwave gave me some intel that was most...intriguing to me, and I wanted to double check with you first."

You weren't that high of a rank. You were barely at Knockout's rank, let alone Soundwave's or anyone elses. "Why me, sir? I'm no high ranked officer. Why not double check with Soudwave himself?"

"Because my dear, it is about you and your...feelings. Soundwave was gracious enough to tell me what you are too afraid to do."

You grew nervous. Did he know? "And...that would be?"

Megatron chuckled and looked over at the door. As if on cue, a Vehicon walked through with a tray in his servos. On the tray were two purple energon cubes...dark energon. You blinked in surprise, Megatron never shares his energon with anyone.

"Forgive my ignorance, but please no more dancing around the matter. What is really going on?" You spoke out of turn, you knew it, but you needed to know what this was about.

Megatron chuckled. "I know of your feelings for me."

The Vehicon stopped. Your heart stopped. Time seemed to have stopped. Megatron's smirk however, grew. So time didn't exactly stop. You felt the color drain from your face. How did Soundwave know? You felt a wave of betrayal wash over you. Unfortunately, that's how things go in the Decepticon ranks.

Megatron laughed and took both energon cubes and dismissed the Vehicon. "Do not worry, my dear. I return your affections. In fact, I asked you here today to toast to our new relationship."

"Relationship?" You were still lost.

"Well yes, we return each others affections, so its only natural we become one." Megatron's narrowed optics pierced through you.

"Yeah...yeah that is true." He handed you one of the cubes as you spoke.

"And what better way to become one, than to relish in Unicron's blood together?" Megatron placed one servo on the small of your back.

You were pulled closer to him, and you clutched the cube close to your chest. You had to remind yourself that you could ingest energon, but...what kind of affect would dark energon have on you? Regardless, your heart did all the thinking now.

"Okay. I accept."

Megatron's grin grew wider, showing more of his sharp teeth. He put the cube to his lips and drank the whole thing, and went in for a slow, sensual kiss. His metallic lips moved along with your fleshy ones. You felt the shock increase in your body, but you did relax.

Then you felt liquid enter your mouth, despite not drinking any energon. You thought Megatron had swallowed his...

The dark energon dripped down the sides of your mouth, and he slowly pulled away. He threw the empty cube to the side and caressed your cheek. "Feel the blood of Unicron take over your system, my dear. Soon it shall consume you, and we will be one in our shared interest."

The effects were immediate. You felt the familiar sensation of being high. Light headedness, delayed vision, sluggish movements...you were amazed at how fast it worked. You watched as Megatron slowly pried the dark energon cube from your hands and drank it himself, this time swallowing it. His optics turned purple and he placed both servos on your cheeks.

"We will rule the world, together, my love." Megatron grinned and kissed you once more.

You let the dark energon take over your system, and relished in the blood of Unicron with your new love.

• ───────────────── •

Here's my Transformers masterlist in case you wanna request something!

[fatuismooches]

THIS MIGHT SOUND A LITTLE DUMB. but i was hit with Dottore Thoughts in the car today and was just thinking like. what if that funky little blue fluid in dottie's earring thing serves as like an emergency medication/antidote for fragile!reader just in case of an emergency? it's able to stabilize reader at the least. he's always ready! just my thoughts hehe :-)

Besides being known for his experiments, another signature of Il Dottore seems to be the blue liquid that accompanies him, sometimes in a separate vial but always swirling around in his earring. One can only guess what that blue liquid is, but given the kind of man Dottore is, it probably isn't anything nice. Perhaps some sort of poison or sedative is the guess of most agents. Good for his kind of work. Unsurprisingly, their guess used to be right.

Used to.

As of now, the earring no longer holds what it used to be. Now, it is the opposite - instead of it being used to inflict pain, it is used to help someone. That someone being none other than you (because who else would he sincerely want to help?) As time went by, it was needed for him to adapt to the current you. You could be fine this minute, but in the next, anything could happen. Illness does such things to you. Oftentimes Dottore finds himself swirling around the liquid once more, and wondering if it's time to start working on a new formula. There's no telling what could happen.

Not to mention, the longer you've been with him, the more you want to leave his reach. You want to go outside. You want to go into town and watch plays and operas. You want to start shivering and sneezing from the snow as you play with Zandy. So many ways it could lead to unpredictability, but it is no problem for Dottore. He will always have things under control and be prepared for any possible situation. (A part of it also comes from your complaining about how it's not nice to randomly be stabbed with a needle.)

Needless to say, all the segments find themselves with a new earring, but no one else would be able to tell the difference. Not even you, at first. Which is why you're naturally a bit scared when all of a sudden he snaps the earring off and somehow opens it at record speed. Unfortunately, it doesn't taste like blue raspberry, but it does somehow make you feel better!

Dottore's always working on something to help you feel better, and you couldn't be more grateful, although you are a bit apologetic for all of his time-consuming efforts.

[actuallysaiyan]

I Close My Eyes and I Slip Away(Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader)

warnings: major spoilers, mentions of death, angst, mentions of suicide, alcohol and drugs, very sad, lots of emotions, reader is Yuji's adoptive mother and Kento's wife, not for the faint of heart, dark themes word count: 1.9k pairings: Kento Nanami x Fem!Reader, Fem!Reader & Yuji Itadori(adoptive mother and son/platonic) summary: you wonder how you'll go on after you lost your childhood sweetheart in the Shibuya Incident. the darkness comes to consume you. a/n: this is pretty dark content, so if you aren't feeling very stable right now, maybe skip out on this one. remember, you are truly loved and matter so much

The kitchen is bleak and cold as you enter. You’re wearing the same pajamas you have been for the last few days…or has it been weeks. Everything has been just such a blur since you lost the love of your life. You know you should try to take care of yourself, but it feels impossible to regain any normality in your life anymore. Days just go by like nothing as you drift from the kitchen to the bathroom to the bed and just spend time mourning the one you loved the most.

As you sit at the kitchen table, you clasp your mug of coffee with both hands. You try to at least do the bare minimum to take care of yourself. It’s not much, but the coffee does give you warmth. A tear slides down your cheek and lands into your coffee.

‘This is how Kento used to take his coffee. Just black, no creamer and no sugar.’

You blow on the hot liquid, and then you take a small sip. The clock on the wall ticks by the seconds of this solemn morning. You look out the window, unsure of what else to do with yourself today. You want to reach out to someone, but the darkness has captured you completely and will not let you go. Even if you managed to find the courage to reach out to someone, it wouldn’t matter. You didn’t really want to go on. You were just waiting for the sweet embrace of death either way you looked at it.

Just then, there is a knock on the door. It pulls you out of your morbid thoughts, and for a moment, you hesitate to answer. The voice of the young man you’ve come to think of as your son is what gets you to get up and unlock the door. His eyes widen in concern when he sees the state you’re in.

“Oh mom…” he whispers softly, pulling you in tightly for a hug. “I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner. I’m so sorry.”

You shudder at his words, “S’okay, Yuji. I’m so happy to see you.”

When he pulls away, he wipes the tears from your cheeks. He leads you back inside and sits you down at the kitchen table. He can see the mess has really started to pile up in here. Yuji figures he can help you out now. He’s come to consider you his mother, and with his adoptive father gone, Yuji knows he needs to step up and take good care of you since his father no longer can.

“Let me make you breakfast,”

You nod your head and take a few more sips of your coffee. Yuji talks about the things he’s had to take care of at the school since his father’s passing. A lot of responsibility has fallen onto his shoulders. You worry about Yuji, considering how young he is and how much he’s had to go through since he first joined the sorcerer’s world. You always wished that you could have a family with Kento, and Yuji had been the answer to that wish. Now it feels like you have been fragmented.

“Here, eat up.” Yuji says as he places the omelet in front of you. Your stomach growls at the sight and smell of real food.

He sits in front of you and enjoys his own food. The two of you talk about maybe what you’ll do now that Kento is dead. Yuji knows he’s going to have to keep an eye on you. Despite everything, you may try to join Kento in death. Yuji isn’t ready to lose the both of you. You’re just in a fragile state. He knows you need all the warmth right now.

After you’re both done eating, Yuji suggests doing some chores for you while you take a shower. Just the thought of him doing this for you brings tears to your eyes. He gives you another tight hug and gets right to sorting your laundry. You make your way into the bathroom.

The hot water cascades down your body. It’s so hot that it almost burns, but it feels good in a way. It’s reminding you of all the wonderful times you took a shower with your lover. You begin to cry, but you do as well as you can to hold it all together. You think about the young man who is here with you now. He’s lost so much, and yet he still wants to make sure you’re alright. It’s just so much to take. You don’t know how to return to the normal you once had. You worry that you’ll never ever be the same again. Without Kento, life has lost its meaning and its light. The color has been sucked away to leave such a drab and dreary view for you.

You wrap a fluffy towel around yourself after your shower. You head into the bedroom, and you find some clothes on the bed for you. Your heart flutters with affection. As soon as you slip on the clothes, you can tell you’re starting to feel a little better. And when you enter the kitchen again and see the big mess all cleared away, you know that maybe you can find solace in Yuji.

“Hey mom,” he says softly and he takes you into his arms. “I want you to be okay. Just know that I’m always here for you. Night or day, you can call me. I’ll come by tomorrow, okay?”

You’re not ready for him to leave and for this apartment to be so silent except for the ghosts of the past. You tremble in Yuji’s arms, and he holds you even tighter. He’s not sure if he should be leaving you right now, but he also knows he’s got to run a few more errands. With a soft kiss pressed to your forehead, Yuji vows to come back to you tomorrow with the intention of spending the night.

As you close the door, the sadness washes over you once more. But for your son, you try to stay strong. In your bedroom, you turn on the TV. The old shows and movies you used to watch are bringing back some bittersweet memories, but it’s keeping you as comforted as you can. You wrap yourself in the blanket Kento always used to use and you rest your weary body. It’s not long before your eyes close and you’re drifting off to sleep.

“There you are,” Kento says with a smile. Your heart skips a beat when you see him. “I thought you were going to be running late, but you’re right on time.”

You swallow hard. Is this real? There’s no way this could be real. Kento laughs softly at your confusion, then he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Have you missed me?”

A soft, strangled sob erupts from you. Then you throw yourself into his arms. He rubs your back slowly, the warmth of his body feeling so good against your own. It’s all too much for you to even deal with. You never knew an embrace would hurt you in this way. Kento presses soft kisses to your neck and jawline, a soft groan coming from him.

“Shhh…” he hushes you softly. “I know this isn’t easy, but I need you to try and be strong for me.”

You shudder, “Ken…I’m not sure I can.”

He frowns when he hears your words. You two were high school sweethearts that married young. You were the reason he returned to the sorcery world, and you were beginning to blame yourself for his death. You’ve wondered time and time again if you hadn’t convinced him to come back, he might not have died in Shibuya that night. 

“It’s not your fault.”

You shake your head, “But it is my fault! You were safe when you were a salaryman…”

A cold chill passes through your body, and you begin to watch as Kento shifts appearances in front of you. The last time you saw him alive was the same moment he had turned to face Yuji. Those words still ring in your ears. 

“You’ve got it from here…”

The bathroom is cold as you light a few candles. There’s a bottle of wine on the sink counter. And a note written in black ink for whoever ends up finding you. You’re done with this world. You can’t take it anymore.

You twist open the bottle of pills and you pour many of them into your head. With a soft sigh, you toss it all back with a swig of wine. The pills go down hard, but you know you’ll be happier soon. You’ll be free of the pain sooner than you think. Slowly, you take off your clothes. The pills and wine are already starting to affect you.

The water is so soothing and so good on your aching bones. Tears begin to slip down your cheeks once again for what seems like the umpteenth time. You can feel your mind start to spiral a bit as you think of everything you’re about to leave behind. But you’ve got no regrets about this. At least, you don’t realize in the moment that you have lots of regrets about taking your own life. Eventually, your eyes close and you let yourself get swept up in the warmth of the bath water and the feeling of the pills making you shut down.

“Mom?” a voice calls from the doorway. You can barely make it out, so you continue sinking into the water. Your body is no longer responding to outside stimulus.

“Where are you mom?! Mom, please answer me!”

Everything gets fuzzy after this, and your world turns black as you succumb to the painful end you’ve decided for yourself…

Your eyes begin to flutter open as you take in the stimulus of your surroundings. You blink a few times; your body is aching more than ever. Your eyes dart around the room and the steady beeping from machines begins to fill your ears. In the corner of the room, you notice your son is sleeping on a chair. You’re in a hospital bed right now.

‘He saved me. Yuji came back and saved me.’

You blink back a few tears, “Yuji…son?”

Yuji opens his eyes slowly and when he sees that you are awake and lucid, he bounces from his seat and makes his way over to you. You groan softly as he hugs you tightly. It hurts but it feels good as well. You can’t hold back your tears anymore. You’re crying of relief because you know you can try and make it through this darkness and pain if Yuji is there to help you.

“Mom…I thought I was going to lose you.” Yuji says with a sniffle. “I’m so happy you’re alive.”

Your heart swells with love, “I’m so glad you found me. I got so scared and I had a dream about your dad and…”

He hushes you and rubs your back softly. Yuji murmurs a praise for you, a soft and kind word of hope. Then he takes a few tissues from the side table and he wipes your eyes.

“I know it’s not easy with dad being gone,” Yuji starts. “But I promise to be with you every step of the way.”

You smile through more tears, “I’m so happy I have you.”

Yuji holds your hand, giving a squeeze. The sun begins to shine through the window and you see that beautiful smile on his face. It’s a smile that will give you courage as you get through this darkness.

Nanami’s voice rings through your mind, “You’ve got it from here, my love…take good care of our son.”

[tan1shere]

Could you write a Young Miko story where she notices the reader is being distant. And when she asks it’s because of hate she’s receiving online and she’s not used to it. Like Miko comforting the reader maybe? So cute to think about.

My Angel

Young Miko x female reader !

A/n: Your wish is my command my love ! I especially find this fitting right now, so I hope this helps whoever reads it when you're facing hurtful people <3

Warnings: none, comfort only !!! Buttt maybe a bit of hate and language ? Small breakdown ?

Masterlist

It rang through your brain constantly. You couldn't get rid of those same words. Over. And over. Miko had noticed this change in you, she didn't know what was exactly going on but today she decided to get it out of you. You were drifting from her, it hurt her as she missed you. You knew the 'perks' of being with someone in the public eye, it wasn't as easy as you had thought. You were so confident that any hate you got you'd be able to handle it, ignore it even. Boy were you wrong. It kept on going, nonstop of how you didn't deserve her, how they'd be better. That, you could handle. You knew miko chose you for a reason. She wouldn't be here if she didn't want to be. But it started getting more brutal. Little details you even hated about yourself, they'd mention it.

Then it got to the worst of the worst kind of hate. The 'kill yourself' and so on. It was getting to you near the end. You couldn't handle it anymore.

As you sat watching TV, you couldn't stop thinking about this one message you got. "Miko is just sorry for you, she doesn't love you, I mean look at yourself. You don't belong here or even in this world at that point. Go kill yourself." It played in your mind all day, a little voice chanting it. You couldn't let the last part consume you, but you were beginning to let it just happen. We're they truly right? It was tricking your brain into thinking it was. All the voices, all the messages. You couldn't think properly. You get a tap on your shoulder, it was Miko. She was finally home. You look at her, a bit startled but your expression changed back to its gloomy self.

Although you didn't look sad per say, your demeanor was cold, off-putting. "What's up with you lately?" She just asks at random. You furrow your brows, keeping looking at her. "What do you mean?" Fiddling with your fingers, you kept looking at her. But you couldn't bare it. "You've been so distant, have I done something?" She wonders, sitting beside you. You just shake your head. "So is there something?" Now you look to the side, such a stupid give away but you could feel tears pooling and you didn't want to look stupid. She gently grabs your face, and you curse because when she does a warm liquid comes down your face.

There was no stopping them, they had been bottled up inside for far too long. "Shhh, talk to me." She brings you close rubbing your hair. "Please? Im really worried." She continues speaking, doing her same actions. You couldn't form words, you sob and sob. But her sweet heart understands completely, she takes her time with you. Knowing that whatever it was wasn't easy. Gentle touches on your hair and your cheek as you rest your head on her should. Your crying had subsidied thankfully. Your eyes stung so you just closed them. "Want to tell me what's up mama?" Her tone was soft, and comforting. "I've, been getting quite a lot of messages.." You spoke quietly, feeling your throat hurt also. Having let so much emotion out you were just genuinely tired. "What messages love?" A sigh escapes your lips. You grab your phone to just show her as it'd be easier.

She reads everything, comments, dms, posts. It hurt her, not only were they being cruel to the woman she loved, but her own fans. "It's so hurtful." Your quiet voice speaks up. "I know, I know.." She sighs now. "You don't deserve any of this, you've hardly been in anything anyway, this is so disgusting." You hated the fact she was still reading the stuff, you could see how upset she was about the whole situation. You grab your phone gently, setting it aside. "I didn't want to worry or upset you-" She shakes her head. "I'm glad you told me. Although I wish you would've done it a bit sooner, I'm glad I know now." You nod. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you til now." She kisses your forehead. "I chose you for a reason, none of these hating loosers." You smile as she speaks a small laugh coming out of you. "There she is." Shes the one smiling now, you blush at her words. "Keep that, it suits you." She refers to your smile. "Oh Miko. How'd I get so lucky." You put your head back onto her shoulder.

"How did I get so lucky with you." She rubs your arm, as a comfortable silence approaches. "Don't listen to them from now on yeah? And if there's anymore, please tell me. Its no good keeping it to yourself like that." You nod and smile at her. "I'm glad you chose me." "I'm glad I chose you too my angel."

[milkzoro]

backrooms

warnings: MDNI, gore, sadism, dark content, surgery, blood, organs, fucking open wounds, non-con?

minors do not read. please look at warnings.

summary: a doctor does unnecessary surgery on you.

☆彡

“where am i.” your heart shook with each second passing by.

it’s so cold and the room smells thick, like mildew and cleaner, you were almost suffocating. endless hallways formulate as you’re running faster. was there really no end?

someone’s here though. you heard it, a voice calling out a number, “238,, 238?……… shit.” it echoed over and over again, what are these numbers?

the white walls and tiles didn’t seem bright at all, the lighting in the atmosphere was dim, lights flickering the deeper you went.

footsteps… rubber soles squeaked against the ground.

“238? now why are you out here by yourself, let’s get you back to your table.” he handled you with care, effortlessly moving you with him. you wanted to retaliate but was unable too.

the man, or… doctor?, towered over you. his presence scared you but something allowed you to make eye contact with him. his eyes glowed yellow. he was not smiling, there wasn’t any sort of emotion lingering in his face.

you felt tightness suffocating you,, moments’s like this were fabricating out of thin air. these tattered and dirty restraints, the doctor did not put these on you. buckles tucked your arms tightly behind your back, you were choking on your words, unable to speak.

why am i in restraints? what is he doing?

“a-are you my doctor?”

“no.” he continued to lead you towards ‘your room’.

you walked in front of him, feeling his presence guiding you to the correct room. his eyes were glued to you and you dared not to look back. your eyes squinted tightly as panic starts to set in.

the empty walls felt like an additional restraint weight on you, not one aspect of this place was comforting. there was a door though, it appeared after, what it seemed like, hours of aimlessly walking.

“we’re back, let’s get you on the table.” he assisted you and you settled on the cold surface, unsure of what to do next. hinges and rummaging sounds filled the room, hearing a final ‘snap’ of his gloves as he turned back to you. he briefly looked at a document before turning his attention back to you.

“hmm, y/n-ya? i have a lot planned today, there’s something i’ve been wanting. and you’re my lucky guest.”

with your arms still tied behind your back he reaches his gloved hand up to your lips.

terror consumed your face. “please! what are you gonna to do me?”

he looked so evil standing before you. his lips curled into a smirk before answering. “hmm i’m gonna cut you up, play with ya a little bit.”

you froze.

“open up, it would be beneficial if you would swallow this for me. say ahh-”

you didn’t trust this man but there was no way you could make it out of here on your own, maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel if you just comply.

without a word, you open your mouth for the doctor.

“can i ask what that was?”

“ketamine.”

“…”

“it’s like an anesthetic, keep you calm, the pain will be pleasant okay y/n-ya, don’t worry darling. i’ll fix you up after.”

~

you laid still on the table, the effects of the drug taking over your body.

you could barely move, your finger tips traced along the edge of the table to make sure you could still move. not much but there was still a little bit of feeling there, and you noticed your restraints were off as well.

the room now had a glow to it, it felt dream-like. ahh yes this is just only a dream. a soft smile came to your lips while your mind chilled out.

“you’re being so obedient, y/n-ya, thank you. gonna get started okay.”

~

he heard soft whines from you as his blade sliced effortlessly through the first layer of your skin, seeing the scarlet liquid made his eyes sparkle. he cut two deep cuts to test the waters. one placed on top of your right thigh and one smaller on your abdomen, right below your belly button. you were hardly moving. maybe he had given you too much.

“can you speak y/n-ya?” there was a tinge of concern in his voice.

you were unresponsive.

he sighed, he wanted to hear you. but the sight before him made his cock twitch. your parted lips, red liquid pooling around your body, you looked so beautiful.

he couldn’t wait, his cuts were astonishing, like he was proud of his work. they weren’t deep enough though, he had to do some removing..

the scalpel shined under the dim light as his prepared his section. his blade making a fine line of a cut around the width of your thigh. small beads of crimson gathered before he wiped them away, he cut deeper.

it felt never ending, going through layers of skin, fat, muscle and eventually bone. he was finished, eyes filled with desire as he hurried to clean up his workspace. he properly conserved your severed limb. now for the hole.

there was a perfectly snug pocket that was already naturally within the thigh. it rested between the biceps femoris and the intermuscular septum, those were two main muscles and they connected with a soft, fatty tissue that easily broke away with light pressure.

he wiped his hands clean before removing a condom from his lab coat pocket. his hands were trembling with excitement.

the doctor was too impatient, his cock hardened with every sight of you. he took one last look at you before lining himself up with your sciatic nerve. he sighed heavily as he pushed all the way in. feeling your nerves and tendons pop against his shaft made his eyes roll back. “f-fuck.”

he began to slowly fuck himself into your thigh once he felt the tension of tissue melt away. pumping in and out as red liquid squirted onto the operating table. loud groans filled the space, he was so close, but he needed something from you.

he continued his deep thrusts as he shoved two of his fingers into another open hole in your thigh. it was another nerve, this one controlled your movements. he needed to see you writhe in pain.

his long fingers scissored and curled inside your tissues, pushing up and swirling trying to get you to move.

“c‘mon y/n-ya…” his breaths were shallow, he was near his high.

your right leg started to spasm and squirm under the doctors touch. he even stole some groans from you. the pain must be unbearable.

his head fell back as he heard those sweet whines from you. your severed thigh jolted against him causing him to fuck your hole deeper.

“fuckk just like that haah-“ his moans grew more and more sporadic as the heat in his lower abdomen grew stronger.

the blood and fluids made it so so slippery, it was hard to manage his thrusts but fuckk he was enjoying every second of it.

his eyes tightened as he felt his orgasm taking over. one last look at your emotionless face had him there, rutting recklessly into your broken down tissues. he whined and panted, one last pump sent him over the edge.

“shit! fuck. fuck—. fuuuck.” his words were drawn out as he came down from his high, lazily pulling himself out and removing his gloves and ruined condom.

only one limb down and he gets to play with you for hours. how lucky is he.

‘please just wake up soon.’ he wanted to feel your cunt while your were conscious.

[myseungsunglove]

When darkness comes, you’re always there | Ksm

Pairing: Seungmin x Reader

Warnings: angsty feelings with fluffy comfort

Word Count: 1.9k

Summary: It's been one of those days where your demons win every argument. Beat you down and remind you how worthless you are. There’s only one person who offers any solace when you get this lost and that's Kim Seungmin.

A/N: I had a really rough day on the day I wrote this. Like colossally shitty. I spent the better half of it crying alone in bed wishing I had something like this. So, as my own form of therapy, I wrote.

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

Feedback Welcome

「© August 1, 2023 by myseungsungheart」

Some days you lose yourself and can’t remember how to get back to the light. The darkness consumes you, swallows you whole, and you’re certain you’ll be lost forever.

Today is one of those days. Seungmin has been home late every night this week, and today your brain decided it was the perfect time to wage war on you. It’s a full on assault and you find yourself defenseless and spiraling before you even know what hit you. Every horrible and self deprecating thought you’ve ever had seems to be joining the party. You’re sure you must be a nuisance to everyone around you. The boys, even Seungmin. You convince yourself that that’s why he has been coming home at three in the morning, so he doesn’t have to deal with you. Your polluted mind is certain this must be the truth and the reality that Seungmin is busy preparing numerous events for STAY can’t break through the dark lies that your brain is weaving so intricately.

You haven’t crawled out of the bed, drank water, or eaten a thing today. It’s nearing 10 pm at this point. The rational side of you knows the lack of food and water only compounds the problem and the intense feelings you’re experiencing, but rational you is not in charge today. You curl up into yourself, blankets wrapped tightly around your shoulders and up over your head, seeking solace in puppy m and sob. You’ve sobbed for hours without relenting at this point, and you wonder briefly just how much more liquid could come out of a person who is as dehydrated as you currently must be.

At some point you fall asleep, exhausted from the emotional turmoil of the day.

Something wakes you around 1, but you don’t really register it in your sleepy haze. You're hit with an enormous headache from the lack of any kind of nutrients for the better part of 24 hours and you realize that you’re still alone in bed. No Seungmin. The tears are flowing once more and you’re sure you’ve turned into a never ending water fountain at this point.

Your sobs are pathetic, racking your entire exhausted body. They aren’t loud, but they are mournful. You hadn’t fallen into a hole like this in a while. Seungmin kept you grounded in reality, but he’d been gone so much lately you had nothing to grab onto.

You feel the bed dip, the blanket lifting from your back as a body slides in behind you, arms sliding around your waist. Seungmin. He pulls you back firmly against his chest, his knees slotted in behind yours, his face burying in your neck.

“Shhh baby, I’m here,” he whispers. The pain and worry in his voice are evident. “How long have you been like this?” he asks, brushing your hair to the side and kissing you softly behind the ear. When you don’t respond, only sob harder, he squeezes you tight. “Did something happen?” he questions.

“No,” you choke out. “I’m just worthless is all,” you manage between sobs. “So annoying you don’t even want to come home,” you cry, curling more into yourself.

“What? Why would you ever think that?” Seungmin asks, genuine hurt in his voice.

You roll over then, and his hand moves to your chin, lifting your eyes to his.

“Baby, you know I’m direct. If I ever felt those things, the words would come out of my mouth. And they haven’t. Ever. Not once. Because they’re not true,” he pleads, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. “I know I’ve been working so late because of all the preparations for STAY, and I've managed to miss the signs that the most important person in my life is spiraling,” he says, clearly beating himself up. “I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, his lips pressing gently against yours as if he’s afraid he might break you with his touch.

The kiss sends a warmth through you that you haven’t felt all week, your arms moving to embrace him, snaking around his waist and onto his back to press him as close to you as possible. You want to melt into him because that feels like a safer place than your own toxic brain and body at the moment. He pulls away after several minutes of being glued to you, realizing how dry your lips are. He takes in your appearance, seeing the sheen of clammy sweat on your skin and pale color.

“Y/n, have you eaten or drank anything today?” he asks, his worry renewing as he looks into your eyes.

All you can manage is a broken sob and a small shake of your head as you hide from him and burrow into his chest.

“Shit, baby,” he curses, kissing your temple. He unwraps himself from you. When you whimper at the loss of his warmth he reassures you. “I’ll be right back, I promise,” he says, placing a chaste kiss on your lips and turning to leave the room.

He’s back quicker than you can fully register his absence, a water bottle filled with filtered water in hand. He puts out his hand, asking for yours, and you reluctantly take it and allow him to pull you into a sitting position. He sits beside you, handing you the bottle, his hand resting on your thigh, rubbing up and down soothingly.

“Drink,” he commands, leaving no room for discussion. You tentatively suck on the straw, the cool liquid hitting your throat and you groan a little at the relief it provides. Suddenly you realize the desert your body has become, and you're guzzling the water down. “Don’t make yourself sick,” he warns, noticing your reaction.

You slow down and pull away from the water bottle reluctantly, a small sigh emitting from you as you pull oxygen into your tired lungs.

“God I’m hungry,” you realize, your stomach now growling after the water intake. Your head is pounding from the abuse you’d put it through over the last 24 hours. You hated these spirals and what they did to you. You hated more that it made you feel like you had no control over anything.

“I’d imagine so. When’s the last time you ate jagiya?” Seungmin asks, no accusation in his voice, just concern.

“I honestly don’t remember,” you admit. “With you maybe,” you rack your brain. Yes, you had eaten breakfast with Seungmin yesterday morning. It had been at least 40 hours since you ate, you suddenly realized which immediately made the headache make sense.

“Goddamit,” Seungmin cursed, grabbing his phone from the night stand. “I can’t believe I let this happen. Fucking…” he trailed off as he typed furiously in his phone. You could see him beating himself up for the decisions you had made over the last two days.

“Seung, you didn’t let anything happen. I’m a grown woman. I should be able to take care of myself,” you said, your fingers on his chin pulling his gaze up to yours and momentarily away from his phone.

“I know that, but I needed to be here for you, and I wasn’t,” he growls, finishing whatever he was doing on his phone. “But that ends now. I just told Chan I needed a few days off. I need to be with you right now,” he says, his voice softening again.

“You don’t have to…” you stammered.

“I want to,” he says firmly, his hand reaching for yours and squeezing it. “Foods on its way too,” he adds, standing up, and pulling you along with him. “Let’s get you a shower before it gets here,” he encourages and you groan because you’re exhausted from the day’s emotions and also disgusting. “I’ll help,” he assures you, guiding you to the bathroom.

Seungmin is a perfect gentleman as he steps into the shower with you, taking care to wash your hair and body, no other agenda in mind tonight than to make sure you’re okay.

When he is finished and you’re rinsed and clean once more, he steps out of the shower, draping a towel around his hips, and grabbing yours. You take it from him and wrap it around you, tucking it under your arms. He leans in then and kisses you softly, his lips moving reverently against yours. His phone dings on the counter, signaling the arrival of your food.

“Ah, dinner. Finally,” he smiles down at his phone. “Get comfy and I’ll grab the food off the stoop,” he says as you walk out of the bathroom together. You throw on one of Seungmin’s t-shirts and a pair of his boxers and shuffle down the hall into the living room. Seungmin is setting out a shit ton of food when you pad in, looking up at you with a beaming smile on his face, and you momentarily wonder who delivers this late in the night.

“Babe, I’ll never eat all that,” you can’t help but laugh.

“I haven’t eaten since, hell, I can’t remember. I’m starving,” he chuckles.

You realize then just how busy he’s been if he hasn’t stuck to his pretty rigid schedule he keeps for himself and reality hits you as you allow yourself to understand it fully. The thoughts that consumed you earlier in the day and night are slowly losing their grip on you. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Go put on some clothes, Seung,” you say, bumping your hip against his and shooing him down the hall. “I’ll get us plates and chopsticks and something to drink,” you assure him, and he scurries down the hall, towel hanging from his hips and droplets of water still clinging to his broad back as his feet shuffle along the hardwood quickly. He’s gone no time at all, before he returns in a pair of black basketball shorts and a white t-shirt. Your tip toeing to get the plates and bowls down, and you feel him press against your back and reach up for them. He kisses your neck and moves to head back toward the living room.

“Let’s eat,” he says, smacking your ass gently and you playfully slap his hand away, your mood already much improved from Seungmin’s presence, the water, and the shower. It’s amazing how the simple act of taking care of your basic needs can shift your mentality. You grab a couple drinks from the fridge, chopsticks and a couple spoons from the drawer.

You both retreat into the living room, sitting on the floor by the table by the couch. Seungmin plates your food for you, knowing all the things you like and hands it to you before loading up his own. He smiles happily at you as he digs in.

“Now, I’m all yours for the next three days baby,” he smiles before taking a bite. “Let’s sort that pretty little head of yours out, and I promise I won’t miss something like this again,” he vows, chastising himself.

“Seung,” you start, but he shakes his head.

“Let me do this, okay y/n?” he practically pleads. He needs to take care of you. It’s like it’s coded into his dna or something.

“Of course, jagiya,” you smile, leaning across the table and kissing him quickly.

You're so thankful you have Kim Seungmin in your life. He’s grounded you back to reality many times before and you’ve done the same for him in his times of doubt. You weren’t sure how you got so damn lucky, but you’d thank whatever god you needed to over and over again to keep your Seungmin.

Tags: @krishastumblernow @ohish

[ashley-foster-13]

PLS will you do Minho x best friend reader who is his running partner and they have their first kiss in the maze? Tysm love you queen

The day wasn’t as good as Y/n wish it was.

Nightmares about the Maze and the Grievers kept her awake at night, the dark circles under her eyes were obvious. She’d barely eaten any breakfast because she was late for her usual run with Minho.

Her best friend Minho.

The Keeper of the Runners wasn’t what she wished of him, either. Not that she didn’t like him, quite the opposite – he was perfect. Annoying, sometimes, but she wanted him still.

Maybe, at the same time she didn’t. She didn’t want to want him if he didn’t want her back.

The thoughts consumed Y/n so much she accidentally bumped into a wall, missing the entrance to the Maze by a few inches.

“Ow, the wall must be hurt,” Minho mocked, guiding her and starting to jog, “You cool?”

“Totally,” she turned away, suppressing a yawn.

And so they ran and ran, Y/n tripping over every few steps.

“For Griever’s sake.”

“Holy klunk.”

“Oh, you can’t be serious!”

She already felt a few bruises blooming on her knees and ankles.

“No, seriously, are you okay, Y/n?” he seemed concerned. When she didn’t react, he grabbed and shook her by the shoulders slightly, “Y/n!” he called again.

Suddenly she wished he would kiss her.

Suddenly she wanted to kill him.

Thoughts tangled in her mind and wouldn’t let her concentrate on the situation at hand.

“I told you I’m-”

So she kissed the wall instead. Again.

Her face met with the stupid stone, sending the rush of pain though her nose. Small, but quick drops of blood leaked onto her clothes. Some of the red liquid got into her mouth, the nasty feeling of nausea washing over her.

Oh, that definitely wasn’t good.

She didn’t notice Minho at her side until now. He looked concerned. Concerned for his best friend.

“Y/n, you alright?”

He tried to place his hand on her cheek to get a closer look at her injury, but she didn’t let him. She punched a wall instead.

Why the hell today is so terrible?

She hated it. She hated him for not seeing the obvious. She hated him for… everything. Or maybe she hated herself.

She didn’t want it anymore.

She was tired, and overthinking, and in pain and sick of this place and Minho not loving her the way she wanted him to. She was tired of fantasizing about them at night.

She was tired.

Hot tears streamed down her face, mixing with blood still dripping from her nose as she lowered to the ground.

Maybe she screamed. She didn’t know.

Until a pair of warm arms wrapped tightly around her.

“Don’t hate me,” Minho whispered in Y/n’s ear, startling her, “And certainly don’t hate yourself.”

So she did scream all of that out loud. And he did hear all of that. If there Y/n and her bad day were at a competition of “who makes Y/n’s day worse than it already is”, well, she would win. Twice.

Not having anything to say, or any strength to speak anyway, she just sniffed.

Minho’s arms moved to her shoulder blades, his fingers trailing small patterns on her back, sending tiny waves of warmth down her back. And it felt wonderful, and she had no strength to tell herself otherwise.

“If you’re tired, you can always tell me,” he began again quietly, his breath tickling her skin. “You can have a day off. Oversleep.” He was silent for a few moments, then spoke almost inaudibly, but she heard him, “And I… I do love you. I really do.”

At that, Y/n couldn’t help but look up at the runner, totally forgetting her blood-and-tear stained face.

She could’ve sworn to the Grievers that Minho, the Minho, blushed. Well, she wasn’t feeling any less flustered either.

He let out a small, awkward laugh, running a hand though his hair. “Jeez, I’ve been crazy about you since, I can’t even remember when.”

Tired as she is, Y/n leaned forward, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hands touched his shoulders and squeezed slightly.

Minho hoped she didn’t notice the goosebumps on his neck. “I love you, too,” she whispered sheepishly.

Both were grinning like idiots as they sat there, sharing an embrace. Sweaty, bloody, gross, but all in all tender.

“How about we go back, huh?” after a while said Minho.

“Alby will be mad,” Y/n’s weakly protested. She did want to go back.

“Alby will be even more mad if you won’t make it back at all, and we can’t have that,” he got up, extending a hand for her to take. Luckily they weren’t far from the Glade, because Y/n was already feeling quite fatigued from, well, today.

One corner before the Doors, she stopped.

“Minho.”

And as he turns around, Y/n takes two strides toward him and presses her lips to his.

And, oh, this man really knew how to keep his composure, because while his hands were instantly on her waste and his lips moved in sync with hers, his heart was racing like crazy.

Kissing her was wonderful. And while in his imagination it was pretty much amazing, too, still the reality was far better.

Far, far, far better.

Both leaned back, a bit out of breath. Y/n didn’t looked away, murmured a quiet “Love you,” again and headed to the Glade.

Minho stood there for a few moments, not believing what just happened. Then, followed his girlfriend back home.