#he’s in denial that they’ve broken up

[zoeysandin]

“what the hell do you think you’re doing with this fucking idiot, maia, that’s what,” he rebels, scoffing and pointing at him with his thumb and then laughing incredulously. “seriously man, get lost, she’s taken, jackass,” ricardo says and shoves him back. the other guy throws the drinks he’d gotten for maia and him in ricardo’s face. that pisses him off — he punches him.

once he’s done he looks up at her. “you happy?” then he just tries to leave, pushing past her.

open to: w / m / nb

muse: maia power. twenty five. wildlife rehabilitator.

plot: based on this.

“ what the hell are you doing? ”  the last person she expected to see was her ex, and especially looking like they were about to punch the guy she had just been completely wrapped up with not too long ago.

[viiennie]

we’ve all had our tough moments. phases of our lives when everything is a bit too much to carry. you’ve had your fare share of those hardships, but ever since meeting gojo satoru, they’ve been more bearable.

not only because of the fact that you at least have someone by your side, but also because of the fact that he was always there willing to holding your hand, with that cheerful smile and those loving eyes.

when you had to job hunt and got rejected probably hundreds of times, he stayed by your side day and night, helping you with the bills and giving you comfort whenever you needed it.

when you had to grieve the loss of your childhood cat, he was there to pat your back and wipe your tears, bottles of water and snacks ready by his side.

and even when you had broken up with your boyfriend of 2 years, he was there, (although with a guiltily relieved heart) holding your hair back when you threw up in the bathroom from a hangover. he was there by your side, helping you heal, no matter how long it took.

shamefully, it took you a long time after that event to realize that you harbored deep feelings of love for your blue eyed best friend. you’d been in denial, thinking you’d rather die than sacrifice the friendship you had with him, your soulmate.

but when you had come home to an apartment full of candles and roses scattered around the floor with the phrase, “will you be my girlfriend?” decorating the living room space and a gojo standing in the middle of it all with a nervous smile and a bouquet of your favorite flowers, you had cried your heart out, enthusiastically screaming yes, over and over again as you practically pounced on the poor man, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

now, 5 years later, you lean against the doorway of a bigger and prettier house, watching as your husband fondly plays princess and dragons with your daughter, their giggles making your heart full. “daddy daddy! show mommy your make over!” your daughter would squeal, pointing at you with a wide smile.

gojo turns, his face covered in pink glitters and lipstick, a big proud grin plastered on his lips. “don’t i look pretty like a princess honey?” he asks, posing cutesy much to his daughter’s appreciation

memories of your time together with him come rushing in all at once, and you can’t fight back the tears that brim your eyes. with a quivering lower lip, you walk over and envelope your husband and daughter in a tight hug.

“i love you both so much.” you’d say with a shakey voice, tears wetting the fabric of your husband’s shirt. “i love you satoru.”

he pats your back with soft coos, “i love you too angel.” he peppers kisses all over your face, wiping the dripping tears from your cheek, ignoring the ‘ewww! daddy’s kissing mommy!’ from your child.

“and i love our little girl!” he cheers, now being the one to wrap the two of you in a soul squeezing hug.

———

a/n: i actually broke up w my boyfriend of 2yrs so i wrote this to feel better LOL

[hazbinshusk]

blitzø x fem!afab!reader. during a lazy day on the couch, the imp decides to distract you from your work in a way he just knows will work. and despite your protests, how could you possibly resist when he's just so good at what he does?

featuring: imp reader, tail play, sex, orgasm denial, cream pies, dom!blitzø, I use the word 'fuck' too much, and degradation because calling you a whore is just how blitzø's broken ass shows affection.

anon request. 2.25k.

Hell might suck in large amounts, but times like this weren’t so bad.

You were curled up on the couch, some terribly cliché action movie playing on the TV in front of you. Blitzø was stretched out at the other end of it, legs kicked up over the arm the couch and his head propped up on pillows. Honestly, you had no idea how it could possibly be comfortable for him to lay there with his neck twisted towards the screen like that, but he seemed content. And honestly, it was nice to see him so relaxed.

Your tablet pings on the coffee table and you sigh, straightening reluctantly in your seat. Its yet another alert from the other organizers of the Lust Ring’s annual Fertility Festival, and you scoot to the edge of the couch cushion to swipe the device up off the table and check the latest in the long list of requests they’ve had for you to handle. Apparently, a day off doesn’t exist when you’re running errands for one of the Seven Deadly Sins.

Scrolling through the new list of potential vendors you need to go through for approval, you glance up as you hear Blitzø shift beside you, reaching for the remote.

“You don’t have to stop it,” you assure him apologetically, but he does anyway. He groans quietly as he sits up, and you smile softly as you feel him crawl across the couch and slot himself behind you, thighs on either side of yours. Your body warms as he wraps his arms around your middle, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “I promise I’ll be quick.”

“Eh, I’ve seen this one before,” you feel him shrug, the heat of his body pressed against your back. “Helpin’ you pick out porny-ass stalls for this slut fest?” he presses a quick kiss to the side of your neck. “More fun.”

“Fertility Festival,” you correct him patiently, rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “And I don’t know if whatever you’re gonna suggest is exactly the vibe we’re going for.”

He snickers, breath tickling your collarbone. You feel his tail slide up to curl over your thigh, the spade of it tapping slowly against the side of your opposite knee.

“Oh, yeah?” he challenges, pointing at the screen in your hands. “Tell me what exactly the fuck is wrong with ‘Aunty Annie’s Aphrodisiac Ass-Pops’?”

“Aside for the godawful name?” you reply with a wrinkle of your nose. You tap their file, scanning the information provided. “How about the fact that the main ingredient in this shit seems to be ‘Auntie Annie’s’… ewww.”

He cackles, arms tightening around you. One hand plays with the hem of your shirt, claws just grazing your bare stomach as he lifts it slightly.

“I don’t even want to know why they think that would help turn anyone on,” you continue, quickly marking the stall as a no-go for all future Asmodeus-sanctioned events. You lean over to grab the remote, pressing ‘play’ again, before you continue scrolling through the list of vendors, checking each one as either a potential ‘yes’ or a firm ‘no’.

Blitzø watches the movie from over your shoulder for a while before you feel his lips return to the side of your throat, dusting soft, teasing kisses over the sensitive flesh. You raise your shoulder to ward him off, laughing despite yourself as he simply switches to the other side of your neck. His teeth graze over your pulse point, tongue following the mark he leaves behind. Heat trickles through you to settle between your thighs, your eyes closing for a moment as you feel his hands play with the waistband of your pants.

“Dude.”

“Hmm?” Blitzø hums the question against your skin, and your breath catches as he gently sinks his teeth into your collarbone. A shiver runs through you as he presses a lingering, teasing kiss to each individual mark his teeth have left in your skin. His tail edges up along the inside of your thigh.

“…Dude.”

“Fuck do you want?” he asks, the words at odds with his innocent tone. Still, you can hear the mischief at the edge of his voice, feel it in his smirk against your skin as his tongue slides up the side of your neck to the corner of your jaw. “I’m tryin’ to watch something here.”

“I know what you’re doing, B.”

He snickers against the nape of your neck, claws dipping beneath the waistband of your pants. “And I knooooow you like it…”

“I’m working, Blitzø.”

“And you’re makin’ this into fuckin’ work,” he retorts. “Are you gonna take your pants off or am I wreckin’ these ones too?”

“Satan, you’re an asshole.” you eye-roll and Blitzø reaches up to take hold of your chin. He turns your head towards him roughly, claiming your mouth in a hungry, heated kiss. He slides his tongue into your mouth, his hand moving from your chin to encircle your throat.

“And you’re a fuckin’ tease,” he replies against your mouth, the last word almost lost as he kisses you again. He squeezes your throat reflexively, and you whimper into the kiss. You can feel him hardening against the curve of your ass, his other hand moving down to clutch at your upper thigh, fingers dipping between your legs to tease over your denim-covered cunt. “Bein’ all sexy and professional like a slutty little— fuuuuck…”

You’d wrapped his tail around your fingers, and squeezed, pulling it firmly enough to make him groan, loud and drawn out. His head fell back against the back of the couch, hands taking hold of your hips. He pushed his own hips up against your ass, grinding into you.

“Bitch…”

“Oh, c’mon, Blitz-baby,” you taunt, turning around to kneel between his thighs. You slide your fingers up along his tail, stroking the length of it with your fingertips, and squeeze again. He whines through grinding teeth. “I know you like it.”

He lets out a noise that’s somewhere between a chuckle and a growl. “Oh, you filthy fuckin’ whore.”

“Sweet-talker,” you laugh, the sound cut off as he grabs ahold of you and kisses you fiercely again. Blitzø manages to keep kissing you as he manhandles you across the couch, fumbling with the fastenings of your jeans. He manages to undo them and have the pants and your underwear shoved halfway down your thighs before he turns you around to face the other end of the couch, baring your ass to him.

“Oh, now you’re gonna get it,” he warns you, his body pressing against your back. You hear the rustling of his own pants, feel him slide his erection up between your thighs. You whimper, bracing your hands against the arm of the couch and arching your back so your ass is pushed back against him. He growls again, low in the back of his throat, his cock throbbing and so fucking hard. “Shit, you’re a needy little slut…”

“I’m sorry,” you say, the way you feign casual ruined by the breathless anticipation in your voice. You shift your hips, and the two of you moan quietly as the head of his cock presses into you slightly. “Were you planning on just insulting me all day, or are you actually going to fuck me? I’ve got work to do.”

Your dismissiveness has the exact effect on him that you want it to, and Blitzø thrusts hard into you with a snarl, bottoming out in one brutal, toe-curling thrust.

You moan throatily and he agrees with one of his own, his tail curling around your middle. His claws clutch at your hips, digging into the flesh.

“Christ on a titty-fuckin’ stick, always so fuckin’ tight…” he groans, withdrawing almost entirely before slamming his hips back into your ass. Your fingers tighten on the arm of the couch, your own claws digging into the fabric. “Feels fuckin’ good, doesn’t it, slut? How’s my cock feel in your tight little cunt?”

There’s that thread of affection under his harsh words that you know he’d deny, but it still makes your eyes roll back. “Blitzø…”

You move to reach between your thighs and he catches hold of your wrist, pulling your arm up behind your back. His tail unwinds from your waist to instead wrap around your wrist and hold it against the small of your back. He scrapes his nails down over waist, dark lines forming under his touch, squeezes the curves of your ass.

“No fuckin’ way, princess. You wanna cum? You’re gonna milk every drop of cum outta my dick first like a good little cock-sleeve.” he sneers, and you bite back a needy whine, unwilling to admit just how much it’s turning you on. “Now answer the fuckin’ question: how’s my cock feel?”

“So good…” you whimper, your own tail entangling with his around your wrist. “Sooo fucking good, Blitzø…”

“Damn fuckin’ right it does,” he replies, smugness torn with his own arousal. He’s thrusting into you so hard that your whole body bounces forward each time his hips meet yours, and he grinds deliciously against you on each stroke. It’s enough to bring you to the precipice and keep you there, an infuriating tease of almost enough. You push your hips back to meet his, forehead pressed to the arm of the couch. “Take it so fuckin’ good…”

“Thank you, baby,” you moan, eyes rolling back. Blitzø curses, hands tightening on your ass. You know damn well the effect praise and gratitude can have on him during sex, and the sincerity burning through your breathless voice is enough to make his hips stutter against yours. There’s an ache in the way he’s stretching you, filling you, and your thighs are quivering. “Shit…”

“You want me to cum, slut?” he taunts, his voice betraying just how close he is. It’s reedy and gruff, and he groans as you flex around him on the pull back. He rewards you with an even harder thrust back in, the sound of his flesh meeting yours well and truly drowning out the sounds of the TV. “Wanna feel me fill you up? You gonna get all quivery and moan like a good little whore when you feel my cum dripping out of your cunt?”

“Please, Blitzø,” it almost comes out as a sob, your whole body tight with your need to feel that release. “Please, I want you to cum…”

“Where?” you can hear the smirk in his voice, and he laughs brokenly as he sees the hand he still has behind your back shift to give him the finger. He rolls his hips into yours the way he knows makes you keen in retaliation. “Say it, slut.”

“Fucking… shit, Blitzø, cum inside me.” you beg, eyes squeezed closed. “Please, baby… I need you to… fuck…”

Blitzø snickers, and you feel him lean over your body to press an open-mouthed kiss to your shoulder blade, his teeth grazing over your skin as he tells you, “Good girl.”

Between the husky cadence of the praise and the way his fingers finally find your clit, you can’t help but curse, collapsing forward on the couch. Blitzø’s grip on your hips keeps you on your knees in front of him, and he thrusts into you in one final, hard slam of his hips to cum deep inside your quivering, swollen cunt.

“Fuckin’ Christ,” he groans, a growl sounding under the words, and he keeps himself buried fully inside you as he quickens his fingers over your clit. Each flex of your pussy around him milks him further, and you can barely register the sound of the string of curses it elicits from him over your own moaning.

Your thighs do shake as your orgasm finally crests, your voice catching slightly as Blitzø grasps a fistful of your hair and jerks your head back so you can’t muffle it in the cushions. Your moan is rough, too-loud for the apartment, and Blitzø laughs, cum-drunk as he releases your hips and you collapse, boneless onto the couch in front of him.

You hum a breath deliriously, rolling onto your back with some difficulty as your legs tangle with his. Blitzø straddles your hips, running his hand up over your hip and up, over your waist and your ribs and to your breast. He squeezes it teasingly, flicking his claw over your nipple, and he smirks as you jerk under his touch.

“Asshole,” you mutter breathlessly into the cushions, feeling his hand smooth up over the swell of your ass.

He squeezes, kneads the flesh, and you hear him exhale admiringly as he watches his cum slowly drip out of you. “So fuckin’ pretty…”

“So... can I get back to work now?”

Blitzø laughs at your attempt to sound impatient, pinching your nipple and leaning down over you to catch the resulting gasp with his own lips. He kisses you languidly, hand grazing up over your chest and the side of your throat to cup your cheek. The… tenderness of the gesture surprises you, but you let yourself relax into the embrace.

“Depends…” he says against your lips, kissing you again before pulling back to meet your eye. That infuriating smirk is playing on his lips again, an eyebrow arched challengingly. “You gonna sit there and do your work like a good little girl while my cum drips outta you? Or are you gonna come and get your freak on in the shower like I know you want to?”

[starsofang]

Call of Duty || Coraline AU || Part 5

Running away to start a new chapter and escape the troubles of your past, you find yourself in a darker predicament than you had hoped for.

Coraline with a twist. And COD men. Obviously.

PT.1 / PT.2 / PT.3 / PT.4

You knew you shouldn’t have gone back. Everything in your body, mind, and soul were telling you to turn back, to lock up the door and keep it locked – yet there you were, on your hands and knees, crawling through the fluorescent tunnel once again.

It welcomed you as if waiting for your return, pulsing and swirling with the bright, galactic colors as you made your way through. Si wasn’t with you this time. There were no tufts of fur to tickle your skin, no yellow eyes to pierce into you like mean, little daggers.

When you reached the end of the tunnel and pushed open the familiar door, it was too late to turn back. You stepped out of it, carefully surveying your surroundings. Everything looked the same as before – tidy, neat, and very well decorated compared to your little home.

You weren’t sure why you returned. You hated your mother with every fiber of your being, but this other version of your mother was practically calling your name, seeking you out. Maybe that was her plan all along, but to your dismay, it was working in her favor.

“Hello?” you shouted, voice echoing throughout the house. You heard nothing in return, and for a moment, you thought that perhaps you really should turn back. Maybe it was a sign that this wasn’t a good idea.

“Coraline!” A voice responded before you could finish that thought. You released the breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding, shoulders deflating in what you told yourself was relief. “I didn’t hear you come in, dear.”

In the doorway of the kitchen, your other mother stepped in, beaming brightly at you. Her smile was just as unsettling as before, and you convinced yourself it was only because you weren’t used to seeing a smile on your real mother’s face.

“Hello again,” you greeted quietly, fingers wringing nervously in front of you. Her button eyes, though unable to necessarily look at anything without pupils, seemed to notice the tension in your body. Her smile twitched, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

“You came back! I’m so happy to see you. Come in, I have a surprise for you.”

She turned her back to you, stepping further into the kitchen and out of sight. You followed after her, eyes taking in the way she moved – so calculated and precise, it was a bit unnerving.

When you entered the kitchen, you noticed an array of cookies on the table. Just like last time, she remembered your favorite sweets.

“Those aren’t the surprise,” she said in amusement. “The neighbors have actually invited you over! They’ve been waiting for you all day, and I just knew you’d come back.”

“The neighbors?” you asked with a frown. “What for?”

Your neighbors certainly weren’t that welcoming. Sure, they had greeted you out of politeness and would hold the occasional conversation with you, but it always ended with unanswered questions and them seemingly bothered by your presence. Gaz was the epitome of that, what with the way he glared at you like the scum of the Earth.

“The men downstairs love to play card games. They’ve invited you to join them, if you’d like. I’d hate for them to be disappointed.”

The way she spoke of it made it seem more like a warning than an offer. She wasn’t asking you to go – she was telling you. And though she kept that pointy smile on her face, even you could see right past it.

Maybe a part of you was living in denial. You found an unwanted comfort in this other mother of yours, and you didn’t want to disappoint her, either. She was all you ever hoped for in your own mother, and that broken part of you was desperate for approval.

“Will you be joining us?” you asked, to which she laughed and waved a dismissive hand your way.

“No, I have much to do around here. You and I can spend time with one another after, yes?”

You weren’t sure what on Earth she could’ve possibly had to do, but you took it with ease, sending her a nod in understanding. She seemed happy with that, and she flashed you another grin, placing a hand on your shoulder to guide you to the front door of the house.

You watched as she used her free hand to open the door, noting how long her nails were. Long and black, slightly pointed, and you briefly wondered if she did them herself. It was always a dream of yours as a child to get your nails done with your mother, and maybe she’d be able to provide that for you.

“Out you go, dear. You know where to find them,” she urged, squeezing your shoulder before letting go. Her smile never left her face, and you wondered if she ever didn’t smile.

She watched in the doorway as you made your way down the familiar set of stairs. The outside of the home looked better than yours on the other side. The grass was perfectly cut and green, bushes filled with beautiful flowers blooming and stretching out towards you in curious greeting. Even the sky was clear, filled with glistening stars that seemed to smile down at you. The moon was large and bright, beaming light across the yard and making it appear much more breathtaking than the home you were growing used to.

Descending down the stairs, you lifted a hesitant hand to knock at the door of your neighbors. As if waiting for your arrival, John opened the door with a blinding smile. The sight of him had your mouth growing dry.

It was your neighbor John, with the perfectly groomed facial hair and beanie slapped on his head, but his eyes… were just like your other mother. Cold, empty, buttons sat in the sockets, glistening in delight when he saw you.

“Coraline, lovely of you to join us. Your mother said you’d join us,” he greeted politely. It was then you noticed Gaz behind him. Instead of a harsh glare you had received the day before, he was smiling beautifully, full cheeks puffed out and straight teeth shining back at you.

Swallowing your nerves, you offered a tight smile in return, allowing him to pull you into his home. Much like your other mother’s, it was wonderfully decorated and easy on the eyes. Comfortable furniture, shiny, wooden floors, and trinkets of all kinds sitting on shelves.

“Are you up for some card games, Coraline?” Gaz asked from where he stood beside you. He leaned down to your level to continue smiling at you, and the proximity of him so close to your face nearly had you jumping back. Those eyes caused a flutter in your heart to roar, and you wished it was in a sweet way rather than a fearful way. Part of you found the buttons on Gaz disappointing. The real Gaz had such beautiful eyes.

“I may not be very good at them,” you confessed honestly, but it didn’t waver them.

“Nonsense. We’ll teach you,” John offered, and just like your other mother, he guided you with a hand on your shoulder to a table that had various decks of cards neatly stacked.

The three of you sat around the table as John’s skilled hands began shuffling the cards. You watched silently, hands twisting in your lap in a fit of nervousness.

“We can start simple. Blackjack,” John spoke as he placed the deck of cards on the table, hand remaining on top of the deck. You weren’t sure how to play Blackjack, but he seemed to already be aware of that from the way he smiled at you. “I will give you and Gaz two cards, facing up. I’ll receive two cards of my own, one facing up, the other facing down. Copy?”

You nod, watching his hands as they slipped cards from the top of the deck and placed them in front of Gaz and you. While Gaz had a five of hearts and an eight of spades, you had a ten of diamonds and a nine of spades. When John flipped his first card over, he had a six of hearts, while the other remained facedown.

“Your set of cards has to add up to as close to twenty-one as possible. You have the opportunity to ask for another card if you want to risk it and get closer to twenty-one. If it goes over twenty-one, you lose. If it doesn’t, then at the end of the round, I flip my hidden card over. If my cards wage higher numbers than yours, I win. If yours are higher, you win. Pretty simple, aye?” John asked, throwing you another smile while he gestured to the cards set out in front of you.

That seemed simple enough. You were already off to a good start for your first try, sitting with a number of nineteen, while Gaz sat with a number of thirteen.

“Hit me,” Gaz spoke, scratching a finger along the table where his cards sat. John flipped a card off of the card deck and turned it towards Gaz, placing it down in front of him – a ten of hearts, causing him to go over twenty-one. He let out a groan, causing you to smile to yourself.

John turned his button-filled gaze to you, silently asking if you wanted to risk it or stay.

“I’ll stay,” you murmured, to which he nodded and flipped over his last card. Shifting your eyes down to it, you noticed it was an ace of spades, making his number seventeen.

“Beginner’s luck, aye, Miss Coraline?” John teased while Gaz threw you a grin.

John proceeded to reshuffle the cards, the slight sound of them sifting together filling the room. You watched while you pondered, thoughts running through your mind of what exactly this was and why you were here.

“John?” you asked, and he hummed in question, continuing to shuffle. “What exactly is this place?”

John glanced at you briefly before back down at the cards in his hand. He began setting out the cards once again, just as before.

“This is your home, Coraline. Is it not?”

“Well, yeah, but…” You sighed, taking in your cards. A six of hearts and a five of clubs. John had a ten of hearts, with the other card remaining hidden. “It’s not really my home, is it?”

“It could be if you want it to be, Coraline,” he offered with a smile, turning to look at Gaz, who had a stack of a ten of clubs and a three of spades. “Mother would really like it to be.”

“But she’s not my mother,” you defended with a frown as Gaz scratched his finger once again. John planted another card in front of him, revealing a two of diamonds. He let out another groan, resting his head on his fist.

“She loves you,” John urged, button eyes boring into your own. “Mother wishes you saw that. You in?”

It made an uncomfortable tightening in your chest erupt at the thought of that. How he referred to her felt so strange and out of place.

“Yeah,” you sighed, and he hummed in approval, placing a new card down for you. An eight of clubs, making your number nineteen. Once John was confident in your play, he turned over his next card, revealing a seven of diamonds. You had beat him once again, and part of you felt like that was the plan.

“Wow, Coraline, twice in a row, look at you!” Gaz cheered proudly, sending you a beaming grin. You threw him a forced one back, and once again, John shuffled for the third time.

“What do you mean she loves me? She… doesn’t even know who I am,” you asked John.

“‘Course she does. Mother knows all about you. She wants you to stay here so she can show you what a real mother is like,” he explained calmly, his eyes focused on you as he shuffled. “She only wishes to love you, Coraline. This place is much better than your real home, isn’t it?”

“Aye,” Gaz agreed.

You looked back and forth between the two of them, unsure of what to say. You had gotten your answers, but at the same time, you felt even more stumped than before.

“I don’t want to stay here forever.”

John’s smile tightened, and he threw a quick glance at you before setting down the third round of cards.

“Whatever you wish, Miss Coraline. We only want what’s best.”

“I shouldn’t go back,” you muttered to yourself. You had returned to your real home hours later, spending the entire night playing silly card games with the men downstairs, as well as talking over dinner with your other mother. Just like the first time you had met her, the time was spent speaking of your inner thoughts, expressing to her the turmoils of your mind while she provided you with the perfect things to say. It was as if she had a script imprinted in her mind, and she was reading to you everything you wanted to hear.

You were conflicted, terribly so. You felt such a comforting aura with your other mother, and you found yourself enjoying time spent with the neighbors and their games. The company is something you’d been craving for a long time, and finally, you felt accepted in a world where normally you were tossed aside like a meaningless pet.

On the same note, you knew there were red flags, and it showed in Soap’s warnings, the way your other mother’s smile would occasionally turn into a sneer for a fleeting moment, and the way John spoke about your other mother as if she were a god to be worshiped.

You knew you shouldn’t return, and maybe some time apart would clear your head.

To rid yourself of your worries, you forced yourself to sleep, succumbing to a late night full of worries and lingering thoughts.

It always seemed as if one of your neighbors was around at the right time. When you exited your home with plans of stopping at the market, you noticed John and Gaz in the large front yard that seemed to go on forever. They were on their hands and knees in the dirt, tugging out old weeds, sweat dripping down their foreheads and necks.

“Hello,” you greeted politely, and John looked up at you in surprise. He smiled, and under the facial hair, you couldn’t tell if it was forced or genuine.

“Afternoon, Caroline,” he offered, continuing to pluck a stray weed from the root. “Heading out, I see?”

“Mm. Need some new groceries.”

Gaz stared at you when you spoke, unmoving. He looked conflicted, unsure of if he wanted to say anything to you. He was no longer glaring at you like last time, but instead, he looked almost pitiful. Why, you were unsure of.

“Say, John, do you like card games?”

John’s eyebrows rose up and he sat up from where he was hunched in the dirt, resting his arms on his bent knees. “I do. Gaz, Soap and I play them on occasion. How’d you know?”

Ah. So the other neighbors really were carbon copies of your real ones.

“Just a hunch. I’ve been learning how to play, but it’s not fun by yourself. Figured I’d ask if you would like to sometime,” you offered with a smile you hoped looked polite.

John hummed in thought, lifting an arm to run it over his sweaty forehead, wiping away the glistening shine from the heat. He glanced over at Gaz, who looked back at him. They had a silent conversation, before Gaz cleared his throat and John threw you a nod.

“Sure, Caroline. We’ll let you know when we play next.”

You let out a breath of relief, giving him an enthusiastic nod and another warm smile.

“Great. I’ll see you!” You waved them goodbye and began your journey to the market, leaving the two of them behind to tend to the yard.

When you were gone, John and Gaz looked at each other once again.

“You reckon she’ll be the one to stick around?” Gaz asked John. John frowned, returning to his weed work.

“Let’s try our best to make it happen, hm?”

—

i haven’t played blackjack in years so mind u, i tried my best 😭 praying ur enjoying the story so far, stayed up to write this and do not regret it

[danpuff-ao3]

Bottom!Snape Snarry Recs

If you're craving Snarry fics featuring bottom!Snape....I have just the list for you!

Disclaimer: all rec lists are based on my personal experiences and preferences. This is not the be all end all of rec lists and we all have our own tastes. All opinions are mine and mine alone.

An Evening Adrift

by alhaz_red. Rated: E. Words: 4,966. Dirty talk. Canon divergence.

Severus and Harry keep themselves occupied during a lull in the War.

Imperio

by asharie (@ashariewrites). Rated: E. Words: 2,308. Dubious consent. Hogwarts 8th year.

Strictly speaking, Severus had asked for this. He just was never any good at giving up control.

Close Encounters

by @bleedcolor & @likelightinglass. Rated: E. Words: 35,494. Awkward romance. Accidental bonding. Hurt/comfort. Praise kink. Anonymous sex.

Years after the war, Harry Potter and Severus Snape meet and fall in lust, then love. Too bad they don’t know who they’ve fallen for.

A Light in the Silence, a Voice in the Dark

by Cayce_Morris. Rated: E. Words: 76,153. Brief non-con. Underage (17).

Severus lives, just barely. Now what’s going on between him and Harry is too shocking for words. Everyone around Harry fears he’s lost his mind, but could there be more to this situation than meets the eye?

Lover Boy at Play

by danpuff. Rated: E. Words: 4,448. Parseltongue kink. Virginity loss. Voyeurism. Harry/others. Angst with a happy ending.

The sex is bad. Yet Severus wants.

The Tumtum Tree

by eldritcher. Rated: E. Words: 4,039. Impotence.

Harry figures out a thing or two.

Leo Season

by Ephemeral (@fleetingdesires) & JacksWild. Rated: E. Words: 2,215. Established relationship. Crack. Quickies. Dirty talk. Orgasm denial. Mentions of switching.

Severus and Harry test a lust potion. It works too well. Two horny men be doing what they do.

Unnatural Desires

by IvvyMoon. Rated: E. Words: 13,385. Parseltongue kink. Magical accidents. Mild dub-con.

Written for the prompt: Harry has some kind of accident and can only speak in Parseltongue, which drives Snape mad with desire. Can be taken seriously or as crack, with Snape jumping Harry every time he says something.

Hunger

by JoyousRapture. Rated: E. Words: 2,431.

Severus didn’t know what to think. He’d intended to bed the boy, certainly, but it had never occurred to him that he’d be the one on all fours with a cock shoved deep in an arse that he’d never known might be hungry for it.

Finding Freedom

by Leela. Rated: E. Words: 1,997.

Having Potter in his mind left Snape feeling wide-open and vulnerable, but held to the earth by the weight of Potter's body, he finally felt free.

What Ever Would an Honest Hero Do?

by neymovirne. Rated: E. Words: 8,000. Romance. Humor. Fluff & smut. Light angst. Getting together.

Harry must slay a dragon to save his prince.

Warm

by perverse_idyll (@perverse-idyll). Rated: E. Words: 11,323. Established relationship. Rimming. Mentions of switching (Snape usually tops).

Severus still suffers the after-effects of Nagini's venom, especially in winter. Harry knows just how to warm him up.

Sheer Dumb Luck

by rexluscus. Rated: E. Words: 7,842. Captivity. Torture. Voyeurism. Humiliation. Somnophilia. Legilimency.

For once, Harry and Voldemort want the same thing, and they want it from Snape.

Magic Words

by Serpenscript. Rated: E. Words: 1,863. Fluff & humor. Orgasm denial. Cock rings. Make up sex.

Severus is a bastard at times, but Harry knows how to make him say the magic words. A drabble that grew too long to be called a drabble, prompt was "Does that hurt?"

In Perpetuity

by starcrossedgirl. Rated: E. Words: 11,830. BDSM. Hurt/comfort. Character study.

Some stories in life repeat in the same old patterns. Until they change.

Folie à Deux

by thesewarmstars. Rated: E. Words: 7,783. Christmas. Meet the family. Homophobia.

My Snarry Holidays 2009 gift for torino10154. Basically, I took Torino’s prompt of ‘meeting the family’ and ran with it.

made to be broken

by theshopislocal. Rated: E. Words: 10,334. Established relationship. Mild dub-con. Sexual dysfunction. PTSD.

For all Severus is softer, warmer with Harry than he is otherwise, he’s still a prickly bugger and notably maladjusted, with strange, almost inexplicable habits that Harry is only now beginning to truly understand.  In hindsight, Harry wonders how he hadn’t seen it before.

Whispers of Intent

by tiranog. Rated: E. Words: 30,213.

Auror Harry Potter has a life changing encounter at a bar.

Fly by Night

by twisting_vine_x. Rated: E. Words: 2,647.

It was one too many dark nights, one too many nightmares. One too many meetings in the late hours, with neither of them wanting to be alone. One too many moments of weakness, and it’s somehow gotten them here, with Severus pressed up against the wall of his chambers and Potter sucking a bruise into the side of his neck.

[obae-me]

Hi, are you taking requests? I really like your one-shots, they really help me in learning how to write emotions. So, what about the Demon Brothers getting injured for some reason (either because Lucifer punished them, or they were attacked by some creature, got into a fight, etc.), and MC notices it, even with the Demons best attempt to hide it, and decide to take care of the injuries. At first the boys are embarrassed and reluctant to accept their help, but quickly gave up and let MC take care of them. 👉👈

Anon...this is a beautiful request. I love love love hurt/comfort, especially whump tropes like these. I will absolutely do this. 100% I will do this, no questions asked. 

Although I owe you an apology because...this is another instance of mine where I take things...way too far...I should’ve known when I was almost 6000 words deep and had only briefly gone over three brothers, that I was in over my head once again...so...this is a big one...really big...well maybe not that big by fic standards, I don’t really know what the average fic holds...Anyways, enjoy! 

Rest Easy. I’m Here.

Word Count: 16,038

Warnings: Blood, Broken Bones, Bruises, Vomiting, Cuts, Concussions, Injury, Medication Use. A lot of general hurt for this hurt/comfort. 

(Please pay no mind to the fact that all these little picture banners are cropped slightly different sizes, consistency was never my strong suit.)

As Always, Read Safely! Please Enjoy! 

“Someone get Asmo!” 

“Satan, look out!” 

“My lord, Mammon can't dodge forever. He’s running out of stamina.” 

“Beel, don’t be stupid! Don’t be a hero, ya idiot! Beel!” 

“Belphie, take him away!” 

“Levi!” 

“Diavolo…we’re becoming overwhelmed, you need to leave.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You are royalty, and as such, I have to – Diavolo, move!” 

“Lucifer!” 

“They’ve been gone for a while…” You put down your D.D.D., placing it in your lap, a sigh coming from your chest as you stared at the front door to the House of Lamentation. How long had you waited here now, a few hours? Nearly felt like days. Every taunting tick of the clock twisted a new knot in your stomach. You knew they could take care of themselves, obviously they could. Their Deadly Sin titles weren’t just for show. There was probably very little they couldn’t handle, especially when they were all together…but…then why were they still not home? The moon might be ever-constant, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t extremely late. It was beginning to stretch into the early hours of the day now. 

They all had been suddenly called to meet Diavolo, Lucifer’s phone ringing at dinner, the prince summoning them immediately. Plates half-empty, they left. Now their dinner had gone cold…and so had the House. You couldn’t help but worry. It wasn’t too often all of them were needed at once, leaving you alone in this large and quiet mansion. None of them had answered your messages either, something else that was rather uncommon. Levi surely had his phone on him at all times, and Lucifer was pretty swift in responding to you as well, and despite Mammon’s fervent denial, he always leapt at his phone whenever you messaged him. But no, nothing. Just silence…Even the nocturnal critters outside appeared to abandon you, unable to hear their nightly cries. 

As your head tilted back, resting against the wall of the entrance-hall, you nearly drifted off. You had been sitting there for quite a while after all. If you did fall asleep, it made time warp, only feeling like a second, or perhaps it had just been rather perfect timing. The doors swung open, cold night air rushing gusting inside, the wind outside whistling as seven demons stumbled into the house. You scrambled to your feet, almost dropping your D.D.D. you’d left in your lap. Luckily you managed to catch it, shoving it in your pocket. “Welcome back!” Suddenly, the tenseness in your shoulders seemed to lift, the lungs in your chest not as tight. You could breathe easy now. 

They all looked tired, but quickly grinned as they noticed you...well a few of them did at least…actually only two of them. The others stuck to the shadows. “We’re back!” Asmo raised his arms in celebration, sounding much like normal to you, and yet…something felt…off. Maybe he was just exhausted, they had been out for hours at this point. 

“Sorry...we…took so long,” Satan spoke up, speaking at a strangely slow pace. Levi, not even looking at you, scrambled up the stairs to his room before he could speak. The demon of Wrath held his arms behind his back, a stance he hardly ever took, using his body to block off your view of Envy. “We got…caught up…in Student Council work.” 

“You did not need to wait for us,” Lucifer tilted his head…but even he seemed to not look at you quite as directly as he usually did. There was an odd air about him, a look in his eyes like he just remembered something he had forgotten. “It is late for us all. Let’s…get…” His voice got quieter and softer with each word. It seemed as if he was losing the energy to even form words, his head drooping ever so slightly. “...Some rest. You as well,” he addressed you, using an arm to usher his other brothers in the direction towards their rooms, some of them lowering their head from you strangely, some of them supporting the others up the stairs. 

None of them said anything else, and before you could even appreciate them all being home…they were gone. 

You had hoped the next morning, at breakfast, that things would return to normal. After sleeping it off, certainly the weirdness you had felt in the air would dissipate. Unfortunately…that did not seem to be the case. Most of the brothers didn’t even show up to breakfast. The only ones to arrive were Beel, Asmo, and Satan. Everyone else was gone. Asmo, with a smile over his face, tried to assure you all was well. “They’re probably still sleeping! Last night was a long night after all!” 

You raised an eyebrow, a little offended that they were clearly keeping something from you, but more worried than anything. “None of you are wearing your uniforms today,” you noticed, jutting the end of your utensil towards Satan and his common clothes, finding it difficult to eat your morning meal. 

Beel, after shoving a plateful in his mouth, somehow more voracious than usual, licked his lips and nodded his head at you comfortingly. “Diavolo gave us the day off.” 

“You can still head to classes though,” Satan chimed in. You noticed he was only using one arm to eat breakfast today. It was an odd detail to notice, but one you spotted nonetheless as he struggled to cut this morning’s pancakes. He always used a knife and a fork like a proper person, always getting irritated when someone else like Mammon would wedge the fork back-and-forth, tearing off the pieces and shoving it into his mouth. Now Satan was doing the very thing he ridiculed others for. 

Suddenly settling your utensils down, you straightened your back. “I think I’ll stay home too.” 

Each of the brothers looked at each other, flickering secret messages between them with only their eyes. Satan shifted uncomfortably in his seat, subtly wincing as he shrugged his shoulders. The next thing he said was the final nail in the coffin. Hell had frozen over today apparently. Either that or something was terribly, dreadfully wrong. “I don’t think Lucifer would like that very much.” 

“You never care what Lucifer thinks!” You suddenly shouted, a sick feeling in your stomach, your insides doing flips with anxiety. “What’s wrong with you all?” 

Apparently you surprised them all with your outburst more than you intended to. Beel suddenly started coughing, bending over in his seat. You stood up quickly, afraid he had started to choke, but Asmo beat you, making it to his little brother’s side in a rush. “Breathe, Beel, breathe…Eat slower, you can’t handle going too fast right now.” You could hear the faint wheeze in Beel’s voice, the pain in his lungs obvious, his arms hugging his own body. And yet, they still wouldn’t tell you. Not even when it was so abhorrently obvious that something had happened last night. The brother’s voices sounded muffled to your ears now, the stress fogging your senses. You faintly recalled Satan going up to take Beel to his room, Asmo the only one left. The demon of Lust cleared up the plates, doing so hoping you wouldn’t notice the way he gripped the tops of the chairs, guiding himself back to the kitchen with a hand pressed against the wall, limping. 

You had intended to remain steadfast in your stubbornness. If they weren’t going to go to classes, why should you? After all, you had stayed up almost all night, restless with worry. However, any dreams you had of staying home were dashed as the haunting doorbell to the House rang. None of the brothers were likely to answer it, and if it was a package or something of that nature, someone should probably grab it for them. Although, you knew well in the back of your mind that hardly any mail was delivered this early in the day. The idea of a package was better than more bad-news, you figured. You shuffled your way out of the dining room, rather downtrodden, opening the front door without preparing yourself to look a little less depressed. 

“MC?” You weren’t expecting to hear your name spoken by a voice so familiar. Taking a few blinks, you brought yourself out of the little slump you were in. “Is everything alright?” Simeon frowned, taking another step closer to the entrance. 

You had to quickly grin, although you knew it came off rather weak. “Just didn’t sleep a lot last night. What are you doing here?” 

A little figure jumped out from behind Simeon, almost like it was meant to surprise you. “We’re here to go to RAD together!” Luke beamed. He seemed so pleased, absolutely beside himself with joy at even just this simple thing. How did he never realize why everyone called him cute? 

The third figure outside nodded, waving at you in greeting. “Imagine our surprise when, out of the blue, all of us receive a text from Lucifer of all people, telling us to bring you to RAD.” Solomon looked quite pleased with himself. Although, that only made you feel warier. So none of them knew what was going on either? 

Simeon was the only one who seemed to share your confusion. “It’s not everyday that he asks for favors.” 

“It didn’t seem like a favor to me,” Luke scowled, unfortunately coming off more like a pout than anything. He folded his arms. “It was practically an order.” 

“Regardless of the reason,” Solomon waved his hand through the air, moving away from the brothers as the topic at hand. “Are you all ready to go?” He looked at you with a glint in his eye. That feeling in your gut still remained, but was slightly lessened. At the very least, the members of Purgatory Hall were as they usually were. Any form of normality you could get was gladly accepted. You nodded, taking a step forward and shutting the door of the House behind you. 

Simeon outstretched a hand towards you, perhaps sensing that you were feeling a bit down. You took it, feeling the warmth in his palms spread over you like a comforting blanket. Was it angelic magic or just simply his presence that calmed you so? “Don’t worry,” the angel attempted to assuage your anxiety. “If it were something threatening, Diavolo would certainly tell you about it, wouldn’t he?” 

Based on his track record…not really. Not as quickly as you would like him to anyway. Mysteries and riddles and royal duty be damned. You’d have to talk to the prince. 

You were one second away from knocking on the door to the student council office before it opened for you. Barbatos welcomed you with a calming grin, lowering his head in a little respectful bow as you stepped into the room. “We’ve been expecting you.” As the door shut behind you, you felt your shoulder gently touched by the butler’s gloved hand. He wasn’t often one to express emotion, or perhaps you’d gotten to know him well enough to tell that the slight lift to his brows was one of sympathy. “I’ve already prepared some tea as well as Devarian Cream Eclairs.” In a blink, he was over by a little table, pulling a seat out for you as Diavolo remained seated on the other side, waving you over with a grin, although even from here you could notice that his usual dazzling and thrilled smile was subdued. 

“You knew I was coming?” You took a few tentative steps before settling yourself in the chair, your hands rubbing themselves anxiously in your lap. 

Diavolo was the one who spoke up this time, nodding a bit as the corners of his mouth tugged downwards. “If I know my student council, you probably have many questions regarding last night, don’t you?” 

Your mouth felt a bit dry, and so you picked up the little teacup, smelling the sweet aroma before taking a little sip. “They didn’t tell me anything…” The teacup made a gentle noise as it settled back down on the table. You turned your head up at the prince, a pleading look in your eyes. You may not have had a pact with him and he might’ve been royalty while you were just a human, but you were hoping that the person sitting in front of you was not just the Demon Lord but Diavolo, your, dare you say, friend. Surely, he would answer your honest question. “Will you tell me what happened?” 

There was a flicker of guilt in his eyes as he spoke, and while Barbatos was naturally quiet, there was an eerie sort of silence about him, one that was abnormally noticeable. Diavolo paused but then explained everything to you. Apparently, every few millennia, an ancient Devildom Beast rises from its deep hibernation to feast. Left unchecked, it can go on a rampage, causing needless destruction and chaos. It typically follows a very regular schedule, the brothers and Diavolo able to create a plan and barrier to keep the monster away from civilization. However, without any warning, it suddenly arose, centuries early. No one could figure out why, and deep in your soul you wondered if this was somehow your fault. Strange things always happened when you were around, after all. Although, you knew it was rather silly to blame yourself for something like this. “Without any preparation, we were all forced to subdue it ourselves…and refusing it to feed naturally made it quite aggressive. There were…casualties…Forgive me.” 

Barbatos finally took a breath, shuffling a little closer to the prince. “Young Master–” 

“I will take the blame for this,” Diavolo, despite the guilt, raised his head proudly. “It was under my orders that this happened. And it was because I was there that–” He cut himself off as the words caught in his throat, something the prince was not known for. He couldn’t seem to finish his statement, but you could connect the dots. Here he was, hardly a hair out of place like usual. He had been protected. You knew the others, especially Lucifer, would do whatever it took to keep Diavolo safe. Before you really knew you were doing it, your body urged itself out of your seat, wrapping your arms against Diavolo’s body. You heard Barbatos take a sharp intake of air before letting it out in a gentle sigh. Normally, such actions like these towards the prince would’ve been unheard of, perhaps punishable even. You didn’t often like to think you were being given special treatment, but in this case, you were glad you were able to do something like give Diavolo this little embrace. You felt him chuckle, the power of his lungs rattling your ribs. He took your arms and lowered them, the smile back on his face, although perhaps a bit embarrassed that someone such as he needed an action as common as a hug to make him feel better. “I was hoping you would come see me, seeing as I have a favor to ask of you.” 

“A favor?” 

With a little nod, he glanced at Barbatos who helped you back to your seat, the butler’s hand settled on the back of your neck for just a moment, his subtle version of a thank-you. The prince cleared his throat, looking at you seriously. “I’d like you to help care for the brothers till they are back in good health. Knowing them, they’ll hide away from any of us till they are back to normal. Lucifer might be Pride, but it seems as if the stubbornness runs through all their veins. But you…they have a soft spot for you, even Lucifer.” There was a flicker of jealousy behind Diavolo’s eyes. Yes, they were close, but Lucifer’s respect would always hinge that tiny social barrier between them. “Besides, they might heal quicker with you by their side, and that’s beneficial for everyone involved. I know…it might be a lot to ask, but would you be willing to do this for me?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little. “After everything we’ve all already gone through, do you even need to ask?” How many times had you been the one to clean up a mess caused by some magical or mischievous misfortune? And almost always, you were the only one unaffected by it all, always waiting for the others to return to normal. “I had planned on doing that anyway.” 

He closed his eyes as he sighed. “I had a feeling, but I never like to assume. I’m glad, though... If there’s anything Barbatos and I can do to assist you, don’t hesitate to ask.” 

“There is one thing,” you brought up, making the prince raise an eyebrow. “Can Barbatos make me a portal home?” Learning all this information suddenly made you feel antsy, practically itching to be back in the House’s familiar halls. “I feel like I’ve already been away from them long enough. I want to be there for them now.” 

Out of everyone, you figured Asmo would be the least likely to turn you away. He loved being pampered, and he seemed perhaps the most normal of the bunch. Besides, he might be willing to shed some more light on what happened to the others…and the severity of their injuries. You tried not to let the silence of the house overwhelm you as you prepared a little tray to take to Asmo. You filled it with lots of helpful but adorable things. A little yogurt cup with glistening and juicy fruits, an herbal tea that Barbatos recommended that was a rosy pink, a little vial of Devildom Medicine that you put a few stickers on in an attempt to make it ‘aesthetic’, and a few other things you just grabbed since you had no idea what Asmo was going through. Tray settled against your hip, you knocked on Asmo’s door. 

There was silence for a moment, but then a whine on the other end. “Whaaat? I’m trying to recover as much as you all are too, you know! Don’t make me get up.” 

It was clear to you that he assumed you were one of his brothers. You suddenly showing up might not be as thrilling of a surprise as you had thought it would be. “I can come in if you’d like.” 

Clattering could be suddenly heard from inside, a whimper of pain was made before the door swung open vivaciously, Asmo, wearing a silky nightgown, was leaning against the doorframe with one leg tucked behind the other. “MC, hun! What’re you doing home?” His eyes flashed down to the tray you were carrying. His smile faded, his bottom lip jutting out in a small pout. “Ah…Who told you?” 

“Diavolo.” You snuck past him in his room, settling the tray on the end of his bed. “He didn’t tell me absolutely everything though.” You suddenly turned around a hand on your hip. “What’s wrong with you? Out with it?” I sound too much like Lucifer, you thought to yourself. 

Much like you were expecting, Asmo gave in almost instantly, his eyes turning glossy with tears. He shut the door and moved away from the doorframe, one of his feet curled away from the ground. As you looked at his left leg, you noticed that from the knee all the way down, Asmo’s skin was covered in bruises, the tone to his complexion a different blend of purple, yellow, black, and even red. It was swollen. “It hurts…” The little crack in his voice broke your heart. You came over to him, offering your support as he settled an arm around your shoulders. You helped him limp back into bed, fluffing up the pillows behind his neck. 

“Why didn’t any of you tell me?” You shook your head a bit, looking down with a mixture of concern and disappointment. 

“And have you look at me this way?” A tear slid from the corner of his eye. You unconsciously brushed it away, his face leaning into your touch. “Just look at it…it’s hideous! I never wanted you to ever see me this way…” 

“Asmo…injuries happen.” You traced little hearts into his shoulder before you stood, getting to work. Grabbing some throw pillows from various pieces of furniture, you brought them next to his injured leg. “Can you lift it?” With a wince, he grabbed at his left thigh, lifting up his leg enough for you to place the pillows under. With a little flourish, you covered him with a blanket. “I brought you medicine. Barbatos said this kind should help with the pain. I also made you a little snack. You need to be well fed and rested. Do you want me to grab you some ice-packs?” 

The ever-usual confident Asmo appeared a bit meek at the treatment. “Yes…please. I tried going back downstairs for them but…” 

“No more getting out of bed,” you demanded. “You’ll just make it worse.” With a few steps, you moved over to the nightstand, grabbing the tray and settling it right next to Asmo. One of your hands brushed Asmo’s hair from his face. “I’ll be right back.” Some pink flared in his cheeks at your stern orders, but he didn’t stop you from rushing downstairs to try to find something to ice his leg with. Unfortunately, if the House did have ice-packs, they weren’t in the freezer. So, desperate measures called for frozen vegetables. You found a little hand towel in the kitchen, wrapping the pack up in that before heading back upstairs. You were pleased to find that he was in the middle of eating his snack with a little grin on his face. 

“MC…you’re so precious,” he praised you, almost purring at the mere sight of you. “You’ll be my nurse till I’m all better, right?” It was his best attempt at sounding like usual, but even the flirtatiousness of it was muted. He simply sounded exhausted. He settled down the little bowl as his arms outstretched towards you, waiting for you to come over and hug him. You placed yourself against his hip on the bed, letting him wrap his arms around you. His nose settled against the base of your neck, practically absorbing your affection as additional sustenance. Who knows? Maybe it did work that way for demons. Maybe they quite literally sucked the life out of you. Maybe that’s why Diavolo seemed to think they’d heal faster with you around. Little parasites…You parted from him after a while, holding the cold pack in your hands. 

“I’m going to place this on you. Are you ready?” You waited till he nodded before you settled the weight on his injured leg, covering his ankle and the better part of his calf. He winced, but after a minute, seemed a bit more relieved. You took this moment to curl up at his side, stroking his hair, watching the more strained and exhausted lines in his face fade. “Will you tell me more about what happened? I want to take care of all of you the best that I can, but I can’t do that if I don’t know anything.” 

“It all happened so fast…” He tried to snuggle into you without moving too much. “We were all just fighting to calm it down, but I got knocked out of the air and…it trampled my leg. I don’t remember the last time I felt so much pain. But, even so, I think I got away the luckiest…” Your poor boys…You knew that…as a human, you would’ve been little to no help in such a situation like that anyway, but still, you felt a little guilty that you weren’t there in the moment to try to help them. “I don’t know what happened to everyone, it’s still all a blur. I blacked out for a bit…but I think Satan has a broken arm. Maybe he knows more than I do.” 

“Really?” Your gasp almost sounded breathless. “What do demons usually do for broken bones?” 

Asmo slowly shook his head. “We don’t need much. I’m sure he’s already got it wrapped up. It should only take a few days to go back to normal. He’s probably upset that he can’t read his books very well, though.” After talking for so long, he whined a bit, trying to pull you closer. “It’s so cold…” 

You moved your arm to shift the ice-pack to a different part of his injured leg, letting him hold you so he could absorb your body warmth. “You should take that medicine soon and then get some rest,” you encouraged. “Sleep is often the most important step to recovery.” Asmo simply made a little whine, vocalizing his disappointment but unable to disagree. At the risk of never being able to leave his room again, you planted a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I’ll have my D.D.D. on me, so if you need anything else, just call or message me.” You tucked the blanket tighter around him, guiding his arms away from you and down to the bed. Despite him usually distressing over his hair, he smiled when a few of your fingers brushed through the strands atop his head, his eyelids flickering, like even such a simple gesture was coaxing him to rest. “Meds then beds, Asmo,” you repeated once more, watching him blush at the childish-sounding mantra. You got to your feet, making sure the lights in the room were dim. “I’ll be back to check on you later…Feel better.” 

You watched him blow you a kiss before you left, heading in the direction of Satan’s room. 

Satan would be a risky one. You had no way of knowing if his injuries would keep him from being angry or if they would make him even angrier. Not to mention he’s not the most vulnerable of the brothers. He had already tried to hide his broken arm from you –although rather poorly. However, at breakfast, he did seem rather calm about everything. Even breaking character and telling you to go to classes just to keep Lucifer in a good mood. Definitely not like Satan. Which either meant Wrath’s injuries were bothering him so much, he couldn’t even be angry towards Lucifer…or…what if Lucifer had been hurt enough to…No. He didn’t seem that bad when he addressed you in the entrance hall. Lucifer had almost seemed normal. There was no way Satan would worry about his older brother over mild wounds. 

Ah, but thinking about this was keeping you from what you should actually be doing, which was action! You might’ve been stalling a little bit, worried that as soon as you knocked on Satan’s door, his demon form would rush through. Fortune favors the bold, you recited in your head, hoping it would work as a spell of sorts. You knocked on Satan’s door, only just now realizing that you didn’t prepare or bring anything with you like you had done for Asmo. Although, maybe it was for the best. If you had come in with armfuls of stuff you thought he would need, trying to fuss over him, it would probably irritate him. He’d just have to tell you what he needed himself. 

There was no answer. Should you head in yourself?...No, that might be a death sentence. Should you announce yourself? But then would he even open the door if he knew it was you? He’d probably just shout back ‘there’s nothing to worry about’ or even ‘do you think I’m incapable of taking care of myself’. So you knocked once more, remaining quiet, trying to strain your ears to see if you could hear even just the faintest of pages moving. Of course, just as you were pressing your ear up against the door, the entire thing rattled. Even the doorframe shuddered. “Go away!” 

Well…so much for your hopes of him not being angry. What did you really expect? His title was Wrath. You shuffled on your feet for a moment, lingering by the door. Knocking a third time might set him off…maybe you should say it was you right as you opened the door. Or maybe–

“I can still hear you!” The voice in his chest rumbled, a strong aura approaching rapidly from the other side. “I swear to Diavolo, whoever it is better be gone in five seconds before I teach you what it means to –” The door opened so violently, the air almost sucked you forward. 

You jumped back, already giving your apologies. “Don’t be mad! I came back home because I heard what happened, and I already checked on Asmo and he told me that you got hurt and that I should check on you, and –” 

“MC?” The aura of fury mostly faded, the door partially shutting again as you assumed Satan was trying to hide the injured arm behind the wood. “What’re you doing at home? We told you to go to classes!” 

“I said don’t be mad!” 

Satan took a deep breath, a little glare staring at you from through the crack in the open door. “You said that Asmo told you what happened?” Well, technically Diavolo was the first one to tell you, Asmo giving more details but…now was not the time to argue over semantics. “And he told you to come check on me?” You nodded, thinking naively that maybe Satan would be touched that his brother was concerned about him. Instead, a darkness clouded his eyes, the door opening once more, only this time, Satan stormed out, fully intent on marching down the hall, probably to give Asmo his personal feelings on the matter. 

Without thinking about it, you grabbed the back of his shirt, pulling on it with as much strength as a human could muster. “Stop! He’s hurt enough already! I just put him to bed! If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me!” 

Satan’s feet stopped, of his own free will obviously, seeing as you were probably not impeding his progress as much as you were hoping. You stood your ground, although a little bit shakily, and your eyes finally noticed his arm. He, as you and Asmo both expected, had already treated it to the best of his abilities. It was wrapped in bandages that even you could tell were soaked in something magical, and it was resting in a makeshift sling he had seemingly made out of one of his pillowcases. It had several different adorable cats on it, which was a strange contrast to the furious look he was giving you. “First you scream at me to not be mad, and now you’re telling me to direct my wrath towards you instead of Asmo? Which is it?! Pick!” 

“I’d prefer neither, if I’m being honest!” You exclaimed, releasing his clothes so he could turn around fully, facing you. Your shoulders slumped a bit as you stared at his arm, your eyelids drooping in sorrow. “But it’s fine. Yell at me.” If this is what he needed… “Take your anger out on me!” If you could prevent the others from being hurt again…you’d do anything. “Whatever you need to feel better.” You lifted your head to stare him down only to lower it as soon as you felt a little bonk on your head. 

As soon as the side of his hand gently struck the top of your skull, he deflated. “Are you an entire idiot?” An exhausted sigh left his lungs, rubbing at his eyes before lowering his good arm. “Taking my anger out on you would leave you hurt or even worse. Don’t you know better than to provoke a demon? I thought we all taught you better than that.” 

You rubbed the part he had hit, although it had startled you more than hurt you. Squaring your shoulders, you changed your stance to one to make it look as though you had planned this to work all along. Wait…who was supposed to be scolding who? You came here to look after him, not the other way around! “And I thought maybe you all would trust me a bit more to actually tell me the truth rather than sneak around and skulk in your rooms!” As you both locked eyes, his gaze almost flickered away from you at that. Time to double down. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re just as much of an idiot.” Normally, statements like that would rile him up again, but you were, perhaps, riding on the fact that you knew he had a weakness for you. That, and the fact that you came up and wrapped your arms around his waist probably saved you from retaliation. “I might be an idiot, sure, but I’m not completely stupid.” Your head rested against his good shoulder. “I know when something feels off with you all. Did you really expect me to stand idly by as you all suffered?” 

His little huff disturbed a few strands of your hair. “I guess I was hoping it would take you a bit longer before you found out…We all underestimated you again, didn’t we?” 

“Never forget that humans thrive on stubbornness and spite,” you reminded him with a little grin. You pulled apart from him and took his good hand. “Let’s get out of this cold hallway. You should be in bed.” A noise of mild surprise stuck in his throat as you tugged him back into his bedroom, shutting the door, carefully stepping over and around little piles of books to bring him back to his bed. He sat back down on his mattress, glaring daggers at a hardcover lying face up and open over his covers. With a swipe of his hand much like a cat, he batted it clean off his bed. Something in the back of your mind clicked. The knock at the door wasn’t what made him upset, was it? Asmo mentioned something like this, didn’t he? “Are you mad that you can’t turn the pages?” 

Heat suddenly flared up in his cheeks, almost growling. “It shouldn’t be that hard!” His broken arm was his dominant one…

“What happened to your e-book tablet? That should be fine for now, right?” 

“I lent it to Levi…” He settled back against his pillows, staring out the window. “But it’s fine, I don’t need it. Don’t bother him.” 

You looked out the window with him, wondering if there was something fascinating out there or if it was another excuse to not look you in the eyes. You sat down beside him on the bed, your forefinger resting on his good hand, tracing circles into his knuckles. You caught him trying to glance at you out of the corner of his eyes, gaze a bit softer than it had been. “Do you know what happened to the rest of your brothers? I remember Levi ran off before I could even get a good look at him.” 

Satan’s jaw tightened, a little bump forming in one of his cheeks as his tongue pressed against the side of his mouth, struggling to talk but luckily finally sharing some information. “Asmo’s knee got dislocated and has multiple fractures throughout his leg. We managed to fix it up mostly, but he still can’t walk on it very well. I remember trying to get to him, turning my back for just a second. Just one second. Then I think I was kicked. Next thing I remember, I was waking up far away from battle, my arm completely broken from the shoulder down. I returned to the fight when it was nearly over.” Against his own better judgment, he tried to shift his injured shoulder as if maybe it had healed in the little bit of time you had been with him. He winced, cursing a bit, squeezing his eyes shut till the sharp pain went away. As you rubbed his other good arm, you had to wonder to yourself if the brothers had had very many instances with pain like this. For humans, it wasn’t really rare to break a bone or dislocate something at all. What usually hurt you was nothing more than perhaps mild discomfort to these demons. So for them to feel this much pain… “We’re supposed to be your protectors…” Satan found your hand with his and gave it a squeeze. “For all of us to be put out of commission like this…” 

Your heart tugged at that. “Satan…” You stroked the side of his face with the back of your other hand, shaking your head a little. “Don’t be so dramatic. I don’t think any less of you. Not for any of you. Let me take care of all of you this time. I may not be super strong, or super fast, or insanely powerful…but I can do this at least. So please, don’t push me away. Let me help. Do you want me to go get your tablet from Levi’s room?” 

For a moment, he was speechless, slowly tilting his head towards your touch before closing his eyes completely. “If you would…yes, please.” 

“Then I’ll go do that,” you beamed. “Anything else you want me to get for you?” 

He shook his head, rubbing his cheek against your hand like his favorite felines till it was settled in your palm. “Not right now…but listen, Levi’s not…doing well. Please, be careful.” 

“What happened to him?” 

He straightened, obviously wanting more of your attention but turning serious. Sure, they all taunted and joked around with each other, fought with each other, said they couldn’t stand each other, as siblings are wont to do, but even Satan seemed upset when he spoke about his older brother, a special sort of worry swirling deep behind his eyes. Once he told you, you stood straight up, stomach churning. You gave Satan’s hand a kiss before dropping it, sprinting out of his room as fast as you could. 

Nothing prepared, no plan in your mind, you approached Levi’s room quickly. If what Satan had said was true…Satan wouldn’t lie about something like this. Which meant…Levi…You threw the door open, not even bothering to knock, which yeah, was kinda rude, but you couldn’t help it, you were riddled with concern. It was a good thing you did too, because he was doing worse than you had imagined. “Oh god…Levi…” You whispered, almost losing the strength in your voice at the shock. 

Unlike his other two brothers you’d visited so far, he seemed to have taken no steps to take care of himself from earlier. You could hardly blame him though, seeing him like this, clothes still filthy from the flight, covered in dirt and…blood. His blood. It was all over his face, matting his hair, coating his eyelids. His hands were also covered in it, clawing at his scalp, rolling around on the floor in pain, silently crying. Had he been this way for hours? And no one bothered to tell you? No one bothered to take care of him this way?! It hit you suddenly, that perhaps no one was here to help Levi because no one could. Were all the others this way?...Or were the ones you had yet to see even worse? 

Glancing at him was enough to figure out a list of what he needed. Sneaking back into Asmo’s room, you were at the very least pleased to see that the medicine bottle had a smidge less of its contents, meaning Asmo had taken some for the pain. This was what Levi needed now. You held onto it carefully, allowing yourself to look at Asmo’s sleeping face for only a split-second before leaving Lust to his beauty sleep. You dashed around the house in nearly a panic, gathering a few other things until your human arms couldn’t carry anything else. You returned to Levi’s bedroom, shutting the door behind you with your foot, nearly dropping all the items on the floor beside him, careful not to break any of the valuables. “Levi?” You spoke gently, voice filled with compassion and yet sorrow. You hated seeing him like this. You frowned as the demon continued to squirm, gasping, unable to focus on anything other than the unimaginable pain he was going through. You almost reached out to touch his head, but that would’ve been the worst idea right now seeing as how…his horns were gone. 

Heart breaking in pieces, you grabbed his wrists, trying to prevent him from causing any more damage to his head. Although his eyes were still closed, he reached out for you, gripping your clothes so tightly, he ripped holes in them with his fingers. “Help me…” He cried, not embarrassed at being caught this way, just desperate for some relief, for someone to care for him when he could not. 

“I am…I’m here,” you assured him, placing your arms under his, suddenly doing your best to slightly pick him up, dragging him over to his wall so you could prop him up against it. Somehow, you did this successfully, the adrenaline in you giving you strength you didn’t know you had. Fumbling with the medicine bottle, you poured the proper dosage into the cap. When Barbatos had given this to you, you almost laughed, ready to question why it was a liquid kind rather than in some capsule form. Now you answered your own question. Levi was hardly in a state well enough to consume this much, you didn’t want to imagine the kind of pain you would have put the both of you through if you had tried to get him to swallow a pill. Keeping him still with a hand against his face, you told him to open his mouth, dumping the medicine past his lips. 

Magically, it seemed to almost work as soon as he swallowed it. His twitching lessened, his breathing not as shallow. “MC?” He muttered your name weakly, trying to open his eyes, but finding that his dried blood had essentially sealed his eyes shut. It’s a good thing you brought a rag and a little bowl of clean warm water. 

“It’s me,” you confirmed, getting the rag wet and brushing it over his face, working on clearing up the eyelids, getting it off his eyelashes. Soon, his tears were no longer limited to slipping from the corners of his eyes. They dripped down his face, streaking down more grime as they did so. You were quick to wipe that all away, getting his face clean, trying to ignore the way he was rubbing his head against the wall. Although doing so seemed to bring him some relief, as long as he didn’t accidently touch the two bloody nubs just barely peeking above his blue-hair. After you’d cleaned his face, the medicine, your presence, and the steady motion against the cold wall had his crying stop completely. Now he simply seemed two steps away from passing out, and while you knew he desperately needed sleep after all that, you did hope you could get him fully clean before then. “Let’s try to get you to the shower, come on.” You took both his hands, leaning your full body weight back, persuading him up on his feet. 

A small wave of despair flooded over you from him as a little bit of his negative personality came through. “Gross…” He muttered, hardly having the energy in him to speak. “And dir…dirty…” He did get up eventually, almost falling forward, leaning a ton of his dead-weight on you instead. 

“I know, Levi, I know…We’re going to work on you getting clean. I’m going to need you to try to stand up though…or we’ll both fall…” Your legs were already shaking at the added pressure. Demons sure were heavy…He managed to find the strength to carry himself, holding your hand tightly as you led him through the doorway to his room. He kept wobbling, unbalanced on his own feet. Was he that exhausted or…was the sudden loss of horns on his head throwing off his entire natural stability? You tugged him away from the doorframe he was about to walk straight into, carefully and slowly leading him towards the House’s main bathroom. 

Despite being really out of it, he suddenly seemed to realize where you both were as soon as the bathroom door closed you both in. “I…I…I…” Was all he could stutter. You grabbed one of the bathroom’s chairs – an interior design choice you always questioned, but one you were grateful for now – and settled him in one, working to pull his dirty hoodie off, some of your fingers brushing over the blue scale-like details in his skin. Finally, this last act was enough to bring him almost fully to his senses. “Don’t!” He held onto his clothes while you had brought them nearly fully off, the fabric bunched up over his head, covering his face. “I…I can do it…I’ll be out– be out soon…” 

You allowed yourself to take a breath, thinking about the fact that you were essentially tearing off his clothes. Shaking your head, trying to gather yourself and your own senses, you agreed. “Okay…just remember no shampoo or anything, alright? I’ll bring you clean clothing and be right outside the door.” He didn’t exactly have the power to deny you, so he just agreed with a groan, pulling his hoodie off the rest of the way, letting it fall to the floor. Giving him his privacy, you left the room, turning back down the hall to gather Levi some clean clothes. You didn’t really know how to treat broken horns…Satan had briefly explained enough to assure you that they would grow back, it would just be extremely uncomfortable to say the least. You had to just hope that you were doing enough…and if you could help Asmo and Satan recover, they could probably help the others in ways you could not. One step at a time though. Folding up a set of clean and soft clothes, you hurried back to the bathroom, giving it a small knock. “Levi, I’m going to open up the door enough to put these inside, okay?” 

“F–Fine…” It was faint, but you heard it, opening the door just wide enough to settle the clothes on the floor before shutting it again, resting your forehead against the wood. There was silence other than the sound of rushing water. Then there was a little squeak as the showerhead turned off, a few stray drops striking the floor. You then heard him shuffling, moaning a little bit in pain as he worked to get himself dressed. As you finally took a step back from the door, it opened, Levi grasping on the door handle, his fresh clothes you’d brought him clinging to his still-soaking body. 

You sighed a bit and pointed to the chair that had remained in the place you’d left it. “Sit,” you demanded, careful not to let the magic of the pact work its way in your words. With how weak he was, you didn’t want to force his body to do anything. Levi looked at you with wide eyes before lowering his head, almost whimpering, sitting in the seat. You stepped inside, finding a soft towel, beginning to run it over his body. This was probably a useless gesture. The brothers had already explained to you that temperature, little things like staying wet, they weren’t that hazardous to demons. Yet, you couldn’t help but do it anyway, getting his arms and his legs, his neck. His hair still had a decent amount of dried blood in it, but you’d have to worry about that later. Even just touching his hairline almost had him flinch. “Okay,” you told him once you felt satisfied, going over one last spot with the towel as you cleared the water from dripping into his eyes. “Let’s get you to bed.” 

He had no complaints at that, letting you drag him back to his bedroom. It probably wasn’t needed, but you held onto his shoulders as you helped him hoist himself into his strange nest of a bed. He immediately curled up into it, a sigh leaving his chest as he finally seemed to have a reprieve from constant pain. You unfurled one of the blankets you’d brought from your room, the one he always seemed to tug away from you if he spent the night in your room. Pulling it over him, he finally looked up at you, eyes almost wavering with emotion as he gripped at the comforter. 

“Get lots of sleep. I’ll bring you food when you wake up as well as anything else you need.” You wished you could stroke his head, petting him softly. You’d have to resolve yourself to rubbing his arm instead. “Do you know if any of your other brothers really need my help right now?” You could only start to imagine what the others might be going through in silence. Levi suddenly looked frightened as he began to recall the others. He raised his head enough to speak clearly, a pleading sort of squeak in his voice. “B-Beel.” 

You steeled yourself as you approached the twin’s room. On one hand, this would be an opportunity to take care of two brothers at once. On the other hand, you knew you would suffer seeing the state the two youngest brothers were in. Levi had finally passed out as soon as he uttered his brother’s name, unable to stay awake any longer, so you had no idea what afflicted Gluttony and Sloth. Beel had shown up to breakfast at least. Yet, you had to wonder if any injury was enough to keep him away from food. He’d probably be hungry now…maybe you should’ve made him something. Best to check on them first though while you were here. 

At least you knew the twins were not as likely to turn you away as the others. Beel didn’t have that sort of stubbornness in him, and he was hardly embarrassed by anything. Belphie might initially be irritated, but he was the spoiled one. He would probably quickly change his feelings as soon as he knew you would do anything for him. A little sigh came out of you as you gathered yourself. A few of your knocks seemed to echo down the quiet halls. With these two, you announced yourself without hesitating, hoping to hear a voice on the other side. “Beel? Belphie? It’s me. Can I come in?” Nothing. Not too surprising actually. Perhaps they were both asleep? That would be a preferable scenario. “I’m coming in,” you warned, pausing for a few seconds before pushing the door open. 

The room was dark, a slight glow coming from the sun and moon decals behind the twin’s bed. It allowed you just enough light to keep from tripping on your own feet. The first thing you noticed was surprisingly Belphie’s bed. Empty. But not even just devoid of a demon, empty entirely. Pillows, blankets, stuffed cushions, even the sheets, all tugged off Sloth’s bed in what appeared to be a fit of frustration. Nothing was damaged but the mattress was bare, the nest Belphie usually slept in was in heaps on the ground. Luckily, Beel’s bed was not in the same state, a large lump under the covers, a few ginger tufts sticking out from the blanket’s hem. He usually snored, but it didn’t seem to be the case this time, which had you wondering if he was awake or not. He was, however, wheezing a little, each breath taken in shakily and painfully. You came over quietly, nervous about trying to tap him or shake him when you weren’t sure about the state he was in. So, you simply pulled down the comforter enough to see his face, rubbing the top of his head, assuming with imaginary crossed-fingers that he didn’t share Levi’s injuries. His eyebrows were scrunched in pain, but as soon as he felt your hand on his head, his eyes fluttered open. “MC?” 

“Hi, Beel,” you tried to grin, sitting next to him on the bed. “How’re you feeling?” 

“Huh?” His eyes closed again as he seemed to be thinking, humming once he came to a conclusion. “How did you know? I was told we weren’t supposed to tell you.” 

So this wasn’t some unanimous brotherly bond of secrecy? Which one of these stupid, pig-headed, prideful– ah, Lucifer told them all to hush, didn’t he? You’d have to give the eldest a scolding of your own later, even at the risk of your own health. It was what he deserved. However, that wasn’t your main concern at the moment. You nodded towards Beel. “Diavolo told me. So, I’ve been checking in on all of you. I’m here to take care of you. Anything you want– within reason –and I’ll get it for you.” 

Unlike his other siblings, Beel actually smiled. “I’m glad.” He tried to let out a relieved exhale, but only twitched in pain as soon as he tried. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen a lot. I’m sure some of them don’t know what to do…so I’m glad you’re here for them.” 

“I’m here for you too, you know,” you had to remind him. “Can you tell me what happened to you so I can help you?” 

Suddenly he frowned deeply, a sulking and guilty look crossing over his face. “I tried to help…but I ended up causing more problems for everyone…” He seemed one step away from crying, but managed not to, looking away from you instead. “Mammon was the distraction, but everyone could tell he was getting tired. I didn’t want him to get hurt so I…” He moaned a little as he took a breath to keep talking. “It ended up charging. I took the hit. I play Fangol, so I thought I could take it…but I…” He pushed the rest of the covers off him with one hand, the blankets folding up around his feet. You noticed that there were several little packets resting on his body. At least you discovered where the ice-packs were now. They appeared to all have melted though, deflated and warm. You’d have to put them back in the freezer. Beel pulled up part of his shirt, revealing the huge discolored bruises that covered his torso. He rested his hand beside him on the bed, trying to look at his own injuries with a little bit of confusion, like he wasn’t used to feeling this way. “Hurt my ribs,” he finally stated. “And it was all for nothing…my brothers all got hurt anyway…” 

“That’s not your fault, Beel.” With a kind hand, you turned his head towards you. “It’s not. You all did what you thought was best in the moment. You won’t start to feel better if you keep beating yourself up over it. Let yourself rest physically and mentally, okay?” You rubbed his head again, the gesture making him grin again. It was an act he mostly saw happen to his twin, so he was probably internally thrilled it was his turn this time. “Promise me you’ll rest.” 

“I’ll try…it’s hard though…I’m worried.” 

“About your brothers?” 

He slowly nodded. “Yeah…I know a lot of them got hurt pretty badly. Belphie seemed pretty restless earlier. I think that’s keeping me up too.” 

“So I take it you won’t be able to sleep till I take care of the rest of them?” 

Either he was taking this whole thing extra hard, or perhaps he heard the exhaustion that was beginning to creep into your voice. “Sorry…”

You tugged his shirt back down over his bruised body, picking up the multiple used-up ice packs that needed to be refrozen. “Don’t be, Beel. It’s nice that you care for your brothers that deeply. I’ve checked on Asmo, Satan, and Levi already. They’re on their first steps to recovery.” At that fact, a few lines of worry left Beel’s forehead. “I’ll put these in the kitchen for a little bit, make you a snack, and bring you some medicine, and then I’ll go take care of the rest of your siblings, okay?” 

At the mention of a snack, his stomach rumbled. “Please?” 

For a giant, muscular demon, he really could be adorable. “Of course. I’ll be right back, okay?” You tucked the covers around him for now, getting up to leave the room to finish up your new tasks. First off, the medicine you’d left in Levi’s room. You opened the door quietly, glad Levi was sleeping soundly. While you were here, you’d better find Satan’s tablet before Wrath got too impatient. Luckily, it was simply resting on Levi’s desk. Tucking that and the medicine under one arm, you left Levi to his dreams, rushing back down to Satan’s room. You were glad when knocking didn’t result in making him angry again. In fact, he didn’t respond at all. You were surprised to find Satan fast asleep when you took a peek inside his room. You couldn’t help but smile a bit at his peaceful face, setting down his tablet on his nightstand, leaving him to head to the kitchen. 

As you opened the kitchen door, you nearly walked into someone else. The demon blinked. “Beel? Oh…you’re not Beel.” 

“Belphie!” You were a bit comforted at the fact that he seemed to be walking around just fine. “What’re you doing in here? Shouldn’t you be resting?” 

“Looking for Beel…” He muttered, his eyes glazed over with pain and exhaustion, and yet despite that and being Sloth, he didn’t seem up for sleeping just yet. 

“He’s up in your room. He’s been there since breakfast…did you not notice him?” You walked around the demon for a moment, trying to multitask, putting the warm ice-packs in the freezer. You placed down the medicine on the counter, pulling out a few things to make and bring for Beel. Something easy to eat. 

“I don’t…remember…my head hurts…” Belphie lowered his head, looking away from the light in the room. 

He was acting a bit odd… “Come sit down for a minute,” you coaxed, coming over to take him by the shoulders, making him sit down at the kitchen island. “If your head hurts, take some medicine. Here.” Like you had done for Levi, you poured the medicine in the cap, holding it out for Belphie to take. Rather than taking it in his own hands, he parted his lips slightly, waiting for you to do it for him. Like you said earlier…spoiled. You couldn’t help but chuckle just a little bit as you gave him the medicine, turning your back to him to wash the cap again. Your humor was short-lived as you heard him rush out of his seat so fast, he knocked the chair over. “Belphie?” You turned just in time to watch him bend over a trash can, purging the medicine you’d just given him. Almost dropping what you’d had in your hand, you rushed over to his side, keeping him steady as he continued to be sick, a few coughs and cries between heaves. 

Once he was done, he fell to the ground, using the fabric of his sleeve to wipe off his lips, pressing his forehead against the cold floor. “What’s…wrong…with…me?” 

A headache, light sensitivity, restlessness…nausea…As you hurried to grab him a cup of water, you tried to connect the symptoms to something. Although, it’s not like you were a demon doctor or anything, how were you supposed to know for certain? You did have a guess though…You knelt beside him, grabbing his arm to pull him up upright just enough so he was sitting up against a cabinet. You tried getting him to hold the glass of water, but he kept batting you away. “Belphie…drink some. Here, take sips.” You supported the back of his head, making him drink in little doses before you felt satisfied. “I’m sorry for making you take the medicine when your stomach was upset…I had no idea.” You frowned, trying not to lecture yourself too harshly, gently placing the back of your hand on his forehead. 

At the touch, he collapsed forward, his arms wrapping around you, keeping you in a death-like grip. “So…tired…where’s Beel?” 

It would be bad if he fell asleep on you like this…You wouldn’t be able to leave…”I just told you…in your room. Did you hurt your head, Belphie?” Could demons get concussions? This seemed close to that, whatever it was. You rubbed his back at the risk of lulling him to sleep. 

“I…think so…” 

“Poor Belphie…” You couldn’t help but say aloud, letting him squeeze you a bit. “Let’s take you to bed. Can you stand up? I can’t carry you…” 

“Bed?...” 

“Yeah, in your room. A nice soft bed. I just need you to stand up for me…” After a bit of processing, he managed to stand…although he was still holding onto you, only shuffling his feet whenever you moved. His head rested in the crook of your neck, arms around your waist. He was making everything a lot harder…but if this is what he wanted…Placing a few snacks and the bottle of medicine on a tray, you somehow managed to hold onto it while having Belphie cling to you like his life depended on it. “Let’s go…” This would be an adventure. Each step you took towards the twins room, you felt more of Belphie’s strength leave him, leaning on you a little harder the further you got. By some miracle, you both made it, trying to not collapse to the floor while almost fully dragging Belphie around. 

As you opened the door, you noticed Beel brighten at the sight of you two, holding his sides as he sat up. You almost warned him against it, but if he was going to eat, better to do it upright. You weren’t sure if you’d be able to give a demon a Heimlich Maneuver if he started to choke. “Belphie! You found him.” 

Gritting your teeth a bit, you managed to pull the mentioned twin further into the room, settling the tray on Beel’s lap. “Yeah…he’s not doing so well…Can you take him off of me so I can make his bed?” 

Beel’s face fell a little bit, ignoring the snacks for now, grabbing both of Belphie’s arms, having to pry his twin off of you. You stretched a bit as soon as the weight left your shoulders. “Thanks…” Time to tackle this mess of a bed now…At least you knew Belphie wasn’t exactly picky when it came to his sleeping spots. Still, you wanted to do your best. You worked on finding the sheets first, tugging them over each of the corners. You heard the twins muttering to each other behind you, both of them trying to support each other in their own ways despite being injured. It warmed your heart, giving you a bit more energy to keep going. After the sheets were on, you threw all the cushions, letting them settle wherever they fell, spreading out the blankets and tucking back one of the corners. “Alright, Belphie, let’s tuck you in.” 

The youngest’s knees were on the floor, the top half of him resting on Beel’s bed, his body slowly slipping towards the ground. You came over behind him, hands on his sides, trying to pull him up and over to his bed. “I want…to stay…with Beel…” 

“I think it’s best if you stay in your own beds for now…” Although you were pretty tempted to do whatever he asked. Especially since he sounded so broken-hearted over leaving his twin despite only being a few feet away from him. “What if you hurt his ribs while trying to hug him? Or what if you accidentally hit your head against something since you’d be cramped trying to stay in the same bed? Once you both feel better, you can sleep wherever you want.” He didn’t really fight you, huddling up into a little ball on his bed once you’d guided him into it. You made sure only the softest of his pillows were placed under his head as you tucked several blankets around him, hoping he could sleep despite the pain he was in. 

“He looks worse than I remember…” Beel whispered from his own bed. 

“I think he must’ve hit his head pretty hard sometime during the fight,” you shared, trying to get Belphie to fall asleep by rubbing circles into his back over the blankets. “He was wandering around looking for you, and then threw up the medicine when I gave it to him. I’ll try to have him take some again after he sleeps. Maybe his stomach will settle by then.” 

Suddenly, Beel found it hard to eat his snacks, like he could feel his brother’s nausea as his own…or maybe he found it hard to enjoy himself while all his other siblings were suffering. He still managed to eat, just slowly, the two of you sitting in relative silence for a bit, observing Belphie as his eyelids struggled to stay open, finally shutting and remaining still. “MC?” Beel called your name softly, waving you over. You got up and approached him, an eyebrow raised. He surprised you as he took your face in his hands, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re the best. I’m glad we have you looking after us…Thank you.” 

“You all can thank me by getting better as quickly as you can.” You kissed his cheek, pulling away from him with a hand settled on one of your hips. “Try to rest too if possible. Leave your brothers to me…and let me know if you or Belphie need anything.” 

“Okay,” he agreed, some worry leaving him now that his twin was back in the room, knowing that the others had you caring for them. He stifled a yawn, still unable to take deep breaths. “And MC?” He made sure to address you before you left the room. You looked over your shoulder at him. “Look after yourself too, okay? You already look tired.” 

You were…but you were far from being done…but, yes. You wouldn’t be much help if you got hurt from pushing yourself too hard. “I will, Beel. Don’t worry.” 

Only Mammon and Lucifer remained unchecked. Out of the two of them, you figured you’d save the most problematic for last…which meant you’d head to Mammon first. While Lucifer did have a special soft-spot for you, if he was hurt, it meant his Pride was doubly wounded. There was little chance he’d let you into his room. Maybe Mammon would have some idea on how to convince the eldest to let you in, and you could care for the second-born in the meantime. You were a bit worried though…Despite his grumblings, Lucifer always looked after his siblings. So why…when they needed it the most, was Lucifer nowhere to be found? He had sent that message to the members of Purgatory Hall to ensure you’d make it to RAD safely, and that was it. There had been no sign of him since then. Focus, you encouraged yourself, pacing in a little circle in front of Mammon’s door before channeling your inner Lucifer and knocking sternly. Silence. 

Somehow, despite having been met with similar disappointing responses several times today, Mammon’s missing voice sent a chill down your spine. There was no grumble, no yelp, no noise inside his room whatsoever. “Mammon?” You opened his door to spy inside. You were a quick jumble of conflicting emotions. The quietness was simply due to Mammon being completely absent from his room and not because he was so hurt he…For that you were grateful…and yet…where in the world was he?! If he was hurt, now was not the time to be out! You could only hope he was still inside the house…You’d have to go find him. 

Trying to remain quiet enough not to disturb the others attempting to rest, you sprinted through the house, checking every room you came across, playing this weird and stressful game of hide-and-seek you didn’t remember signing up for. Maybe the couches in the common room? No. The music room? Sadly not. The library? Not unless he had hidden himself amongst the books…Think, think! This was Mammon. If he wasn’t in his room, where would he be?...You closed your eyes, hands pressing against your temples as if you could squeeze the information into your brain. And then…an idea. Running back through the hall, you made your way down past the brother’s bedrooms and towards your own. He always did say your room was practically his own as well, seeing as how he was there so often. You had found your room empty when you grabbed the blanket for Levi, so it had almost slipped from your mind. But there was always the possibility Mammon had snuck in there while you were off helping the others. 

There it was…your door just ahead of you…opened by a crack when you had sworn you shut it completely when you’d left. He had to be there. Taking a moment to catch your breath, you padded slowly up to your bedroom, pushing the door open softly. Hair covering his face, breathing in little gasps, Mammon was resting at the end of your bed on his back, legs dangling off the mattress. You nearly jumped on your bed beside him, trying not to jostle him too much, touching the side of his face as you observed his split bottom lip. “H–hey,” he rasped, either having been awake the whole time or suddenly up at your touch. “You’re not–” His head tilted back as he groaned, biting his lip tightly, making the split in his lip worse, some of his blood dripping down his chin. 

“You’re hurting yourself,” you lightly scolded. “Don’t bite on your lip like that.” 

You could tell he attempted to look at you with annoyance, but it fell very short, looking like a beg instead. “Don’t…tell me what to do…” 

You had several things you wanted to say to that, most of them sarcastic, but you could tell he didn’t need that right now. “We should get you back to your room…” Running your fingers through his hair, you felt how cold his skin was…You wedged a hand under one of his shoulders, ready to help push him up, only to hear him shout in pain, his cry so sharp it rang in your ears. 

“Don’t move me!” He panted, cold sweat running down his forehead now in little beads, gulping down the pain. “Don’t…move me…” He repeated it, quieter this time. 

Hearing him like that forced tears to prick your eyes, but you didn’t dare let them fall. “Why’d you come in here then if you were hurt that bad?!” You couldn’t help but raise your voice a bit, the tone almost breaking in a little bit of panic. He looked worse for wear…beyond that, even.  

“Heh…” It was a mix between a whine and a chuckle. “I’m the stupid one…remember?” That appeared to be his only answer. He turned his head away from you and closed his eyes. “Just leave me here…yeah?” You wanted to do something, wanted to say something, but you suddenly found yourself at a loss. What should you do? What had happened to the troublesome Greed to make him like this? 

“Where?...” You finally spoke, voice a little strained. “Where are you hurt?...How badly?” He didn’t respond, and for a moment, you were worried he had blacked out. But then slowly, he reached for your hand, weakly holding it in his own. 

“Badly…” 

“Where?” You asked again. 

There was a wheeze as he tilted his head towards you again, the life draining from his face, blinking slowly. “Got me…right in the chest…’batos patched me up, but…hurts like hell…” He tried looking you in the eyes, but cast his gaze away quickly, probably embarrassed at the way he looked right now. ‘Not cool at all’, he would probably say under normal conditions. Gradually, despite his stubbornness, he lifted up his shirt. His chest was tightly bound in bandages, three large lines of blood bleeding out through the cloth. He’d been cut…or clawed at was probably the better term. Greed was selfish, ‘scummy’ most called him, and yet, he took a deep and painful breath, using up energy he didn’t really have to ask you a specific question. “How’re the others?” 

“I’ve been helping them as much as I can…” 

“Lucifer?” 

“I haven’t seen him yet...Is he bad?” 

He licked at his dry lips, swallowing some nervousness. “Don’t…tell him I told you…” His eyes looked around like he was worried his older brother might pop out of the walls. Once he figured he was safe enough, he sighed. “Idiot’s worse than I am.” 

The words struck you harshly, leaving you feeling almost numb. “Worse? He seemed almost fine when you all came home.” 

“That’s pride for ya…” 

Your head lowered, trying to ignore the worry pounding in your chest. One step at a time… One brother at a time…Now was not the time to sulk. “If we can’t get you to your room, let’s at least try to straighten you out…” 

“You’re askin’ a lot of me here…” It came off as a little bit of a joke, Mammon mentally preparing himself. “The Great…Mammon will move for ya…You might have to help a little though.” He gestured towards his feet, having you grab his ankles to swing him around vertically. Meanwhile, he dug his elbows into the mattress, pulling himself up to where your pillows were. Unlike before, he kept himself from shouting this time, probably to save some face. However, now his body was slightly trembling, pain wracking his body. 

“You did it,” you praised, tugging the remaining blankets out from under him so you could place them over his body. You pet his head, trying to dab away some of his sweat with the corner of the covers. “Good job…” You noticed your own hands were shaking. “...Hey…you’ll be okay, won’t you?” Finally, without your permission, you felt some tears slip from your eyes. “You’re not going to die on me, are you?”

The corner of his mouth twitched in a smile. “Nah…It’ll take a lot more…than some measly scratches…to do me in.” 

“Promise?...” 

He reached a hand up to brush away one of your tears, only to quickly lose the strength, his arm dropping limply to his sides. “I promise. I wouldn’t lie to ya. Give me a few days…and I’ll be right back on my feet.” You didn’t mean to doubt him, but you’d have to contact Diavolo to double check. Although, if Barbatos truly was the one to mend these wounds, you doubted he would’ve let Mammon go if he was in critical condition. 

“Barbatos gave me medicine for the pain. I’ll go get it for you, okay?” You ran your hand up and down his arm. “Do you want anything else?” 

 “Eh…if you’re askin’, some water would be nice.” 

“I can do that!” You didn’t mean to sound so enthusiastic, but if that’s all he wanted to feel better, you could do that easily. It made you feel a little less useless in this situation. “I’ll be right back!” Thank goodness the kitchen was right next door, although you left the medicine in the twin’s room…Maybe at this point, you should just have it strapped to you, since it seemed everyone needed some, making you run back for it all the time. At least it gave you an excuse to peek in on the twins again. Heading to the room first, you tip-toed in. Both twins were asleep. Now, you weren’t necessarily the prayerful type, but even you were tempted to slip in a little thank-you to the universe or whoever else might be listening. You grabbed the bottle of medicine once more and bolted back downstairs. In this situation, you would’ve been tempted to fill up the fanciest glass for Mammon, but if he could hardly move…a glass probably wouldn’t cut it…What did they have in here? You rummaged through the shelves and cupboards, looking for something that might be more useful than just a glass. Ah! One of Beel’s sports water bottles! It was one of those kinds where you hit a button and a little straw pops out. If only it wasn’t so large…oh well. Beggars can’t be choosers. You filled it up with filtered water, leaving enough empty space so if you were to tilt it, water wouldn’t come spilling out. Then you made your way back to Mammon, almost out of breath with as fast as you had been moving. You crawled up in bed on your knees, already in the process of pouring him some medicine. “Here…” You could only hope he wouldn’t be sick like Belphie. You helped him tilt his head up, pouring it into his mouth, watching him grimace. 

“Awful stuff…” Although, like for Levi, it started to take effect immediately. He took a moment to himself, breathing clearly, his body no longer shuddering. Then as the pain subsided, he started to realize just how dry his throat felt. “Water,” he demanded, a little bit of warmth coming to his cheeks…thank goodness. “Please,” he added. 

You handed him the water bottle and watched as he greedily chugged it down, almost emptying it entirely. “Easy!” You warned. “Don’t make yourself sick.” 

He gasped for air once he had gulped down enough, already looking worlds better than when you had found him, although he still was looking rough. “--’is the best water…ever had…” 

You sighed, releasing a ton of tension you’d been holding in your lungs. “It’s a good year…Vintage.” Not the best joke you’d ever made, a pretty terrible one actually, but one you shared nonetheless. Anything to break the tension. 

A breathy huff left his nostrils, the best he could manage for a laugh while his chest was in tatters. You suddenly felt his fingers weave through yours, holding your hand as he closed his eyes. “Thank you…” 

You brushed some of his hair away from his eyes, feeling the temperature in his skin begin to return to normal. “You’re welcome…Get some rest. Please don’t move rooms while I’m gone.” 

“I won’t…” He cracked one eye back open. “Gonna see Lucifer?” 

“I’ll…try. If he’s worse off than you are, I have no idea how he’ll let me even near him.” You rubbed your thumb comfortingly against Mammon’s, thinking as you frowned. These demons…You felt like your already shorter-in-comparison life-span was shrinking even further at the stress. 

Mammon hummed a little bit, releasing his hand so you could go, although you felt his hesitation. He didn’t want to let you go, but he knew he had to. “If he’s doin’ what I think he’s doin’, he’s in recovery mode right now. He’s shut himself down to heal as fast as he can to not disappoint Diavolo.” One of his fingers raised to point towards your door. “His door is probably locked, but I know Lucifer keeps an emergency Master Key somewhere in his office.” 

That sounded like a lot of work for something Lucifer would probably hate you for rather than be grateful. Intruding his office just to further intrude his bedroom after he locked it…If anyone knew what he was doing, it would be the eldest…Maybe you should leave him be. “Sounds pretty scheme-y.” Mammon almost looked wounded at that…joke not intended. “He’s the strongest out of everyone…He probably doesn’t need my help.” 

“MC…” Mammon pulled at the sleeve of your shirt, his eyes suddenly glaring at you with an unusual firmness. “Did ya not hear what I said? He’s shut down. If I can hardly move, there’s a good chance he can’t either. There’s no way he can take proper care of himself right now. ” He let go of you as he realized that he wasn’t exactly being clear. “Listen, he took a heavy hit for Diavolo. Got his wings messed up pretty badly. He was so stunned, he probably didn’t even know how badly he was hurt till he got home. If he’s not checking up on us, that means he’s unable to.” He went quiet for a moment, pressing his lips together, looking at the ceiling to your room like he was trying to sense something. Maybe he could. Maybe he had some sort of connection to Lucifer you hardly heard about, or maybe Mammon just could easily guess after having been around him for so long. “I hate to imagine it, but I have a bad feeling he’s completely unconscious.” 

��Damn Lucifer and his tenacity to keep things hidden!” Hissing to yourself under your breath, you went about Lucifer’s office like a little whirlwind. No cushion, no folder, no shelf was safe while you were on the hunt. You knew once he was better, you’d get a proper punishment from Lucifer for rummaging through his office, but you could cross that bridge when you came to it. Right now, there was a stubborn demon in desperate need of your help. Maybe you should’ve checked on him first. You knew something felt off about this whole situation. The little voices in the back of your head were trying to clue you in as soon as Satan expressed mild worry about the first-born. Yet, you had pushed those aside, because Lucifer was always so put-together. It was what choked Diavolo up during your little meeting. 

 “And it was because I was there that–” The prince had said. ‘Lucifer was wounded’, you could finally finish that statement with your own conclusion. You pounded your palms down on Lucifer’s desk, your head low, wishing that things were different. If you were smarter, you could’ve found the key by now. If you were stronger, you could simply break Lucifer’s door down by force. If you weren’t just a human…maybe you could’ve gone and fought with them. But then you would’ve gotten hurt too…you had to tell yourself. 

You sat in Lucifer’s office chair, imagining him lecturing you. ‘Pitying yourself over circumstances you have no control over is a waste of time and effort,’ he’d probably say. He would be right. Although since this was you thinking it, technically you were right. Getting frustrated wouldn’t get you anywhere. Since you were already in the process of thinking like Lucifer…where would he hide a key? Somewhere away from anything valuable for fear of Mammon finding it. So nothing near his records or anything he held dear. Being in or behind any books was probably a negative as well, just in case Satan came down to borrow some. Checking the cushions had perhaps been a waste of time, for if Belphie ever came in here to take a nap, he might knock it loose. Ugh, why did he always have to overcomplicate things? Wait…maybe that was it. Anyone who tried looking for the Master Key would probably try to think like he did, complexly. So maybe the trick was to think of this as simply as you could. Where would be a dumb place to hide something important like that? With a swift motion, you opened up one of his desk drawers, careful not to mess up the order of any important papers. Nothing. And while you did feel around for a fake bottom, you figured Lucifer’s brothers would be clever enough to check for that. Just…double-checking, following through with the ‘so-simple-it-hurts’ theory, you felt around with your hand pressed against the underside of the desk. This was probably another waste of time. The demon of Pride wouldn’t try hiding a key by just taping it under his…Your fingers brushed against cold metal. You nearly felt like screaming. With a firm tug, you pulled it free, twisting it between your fingers as you looked at it. Definitely looked like a master’s key. 

Giving yourself a few seconds to mentally settle, you took a deep breath. Then, not wasting any more time, you dashed from Lucifer’s office, scrambling through the House to make it to his bedroom. You knocked on his door simply to save your own skin. Lucifer was practically a lie-detector test. Later, if he was going to ask if you even attempted to knock first before breaking in, you could rest easy knowing you did...kinda. You nearly dropped the key trying to shove it in the proper slot, heart almost sinking when it didn’t turn as easily as you felt it should’ve. With a second, more firm try, the door clicked. You opened the door so hurriedly, you nearly stumbled inside. “Lucifer, I’m–” You had heard what Mammon told you, and yet somehow, despite being told directly that Lucifer was in a bad state, you had still half-expected to see him sitting up in bed by now, glaring at you with the fury of a thousand suns. Such was not the case. When would you learn that locked doors are locked for a reason? “--here…” You found yourself still finishing your announcement, 

The eldest was face-down on his bed, not even under the covers. One of his arms dangled from off the edge of his bed, hand still grasping a roll of bandages which had completely unrolled, trailing all the way off to the side. Black feathers rested in various places. Some on the floor, some over Lucifer’s unmoving body, some still fluttering down from his four unfurled wings. When Mammon had mentioned them being in bad shape, he wasn’t kidding. Each of his wings were held out, bent in ways they probably shouldn’t be, the feathers disturbed, the ones that were covered in blood were the ones that were doing him the favor of falling, like they were purging themselves of imperfections. Every so often, the silence would break with the sound of a snap. It sounded like someone was popping their fingers. It took you longer than it should to notice that Lucifer’s wings moved with that sound, albeit slightly. Was this…Were his bones fixing themselves that rapidly? In front of your eyes? You were a sickly sort of fascinated, although mostly sick. After a good few minutes had passed, you finally turned around, taking the master’s key and tucking it into your pocket, shutting the door so, at the very least, Lucifer had some semblance of the privacy he had hoped to keep. 

You walked closer to him, coming around the other side of the bed to see that his other hand was gripping his sheets tightly, his knuckles white the smallest hint of a tremble in his usually firm hand. It was probably unimaginably painful… Again, you had to stop and wonder what you as a human could do in this situation… You couldn’t heal him…but you could finish what he had started, since it appeared he blacked-out before he could finish. Starting with the more obvious details, you took the rolled out bandage and took it from his hand, picking it up off the floor. It would have to be disposed of now. You chucked it in a trash can, taking Lucifer’s hand that had held it and lifted it, resting his arm near his head. There was a little pause as you waited for that to wake him up. At this, he usually would’ve grabbed you, or at least turned his head at you. No. Nothing. Not even a change in his breathing. You were almost disappointed, but it was probably the best for you both if he stayed unconscious for now. Next, you took the shoes off his feet, tucking them neatly against the foot of his bed. You really tested how out of it he was after that by tugging his blanket out from under him, draping it over his legs 

Now what?...As you stood there, you noticed the bruising over his back, a few thin lines of dried blood suggesting that he had been clawed at too, only the flesh-wounds had already healed. He truly was powerful. Perhaps those ice-packs you’d put in the freezer were ready to be used again. Lucifer could use one. “I’ll be back,” you whispered, leaving him to his own devices for a little while as you headed down to the kitchen once more. 

As you opened the freezer, you prodded one of the ice-packs with your finger. Good enough. Gathering them into your arms, you noticed that you counted seven of them. Perfect. You stopped by Asmo’s first, going in the order you had taken care of them. He was still fast asleep. You removed the bag of frozen veggies you’d used as a last-ditch-effort, replacing it with a fresh ice-pack. Asmo moaned a little in his sleep, but did little more than that. Next was Satan, also resting, although it seemed he had woken up for at least a little while since you came in his room last, the tablet you’d left on his nightstand was now over his chest. Careful not to wake him up, you wrapped the ice-pack in a cloth before trying to tuck it in his sling, placing it over his arm. His eyebrows scrunched but that was all. Levi next. You guessed it, asleep. You settled his ice-pack on the top of his head. He tossed and turned a little at the disturbance, but didn’t open his eyes. You readjusted the pack as it began to slip from its place. Levi sighed aloud probably in relief. Now for the twins. 

The entire House was noiseless as its residents continued to slumber. They all looked comfortable, at least as comfortable as they could be. You yawned a bit. What time was it? Was it that late? Or was seeing all of the sins sleep making you tired? You carefully removed Beel’s blanket after you’d entered their room. He woke up at that. “I fell asleep?” 

You nodded, giving him a little grin. “Seems like it. Sorry to wake you up. I brought you one of these.” You handed him one of the remaining packs in your possession. 

“Thank you.” He settled it where the swelling seemed to be the worst, wincing. “Did you check on the others? Mammon? Lucifer?” When you nodded in silence, he seemed to take the message, although he already knew they weren’t doing great in the first place. He watched you head over to Belphie’s bed, observing you as you lifted Sloth’s head gently, letting him rest on the ice-pack like a little pillow. Belphie muttered something in his sleep, almost reaching out to grab your hand, but missing, his grasp holding tightly to his body-pillow instead. “Have you had time to rest yet?” Beel asked, voicing his concern with a little rumbling groan. 

“I will soon,” you assured him, coming back to ruffle the hair on his head. “I gotta finish looking after Lucifer.” 

He looked at you with such compassion. “When we feel better, I want to take us all out to eat.” 

“I can’t wait.” You pulled the blanket back over him, telling him to return to his rest before you left, circling back around to your room. Probably not the most efficient of paths, but the only one you could seem to follow. Mammon was out like a light, not even a twitch as you rested one of the packs in the middle of his chest. You noticed that the water bottle you brought for him was already completely empty. You’d refill it for him…and perhaps grab Lucifer one as well. “I’m back again,” you announced to the counters and cabinets. Did Beel even visit the kitchen this many times in one day?...Probably. You refilled Mammon’s container and pulled another identical one down for Lucifer. Thank goodness Beel got gifted so many of these for sports sponsorships. Water. Mammon. Dropped off. Back up to Lucifer. 

Once you got back to the eldest’s room, you rested for a second against his wall, taking a breather. “Every time something like this happens,” you spoke aloud, knowing Lucifer probably wasn’t listening, “I gain a new respect for you. Taking care of this many people is exhausting.” Placing the water on Lucifer’s nightstand, you sighed, wrapping this last final ice-pack in fabric to keep it from freezing his skin. Now you could stop thinking the word ‘ice-pack’ as it was starting to lose its meaning. Carefully, you approached Lucifer’s side, careful not to touch his outspread wings to place the bundle down along his spine. “Not even the cold will wake you, hm?” You tried looking down at his sleeping features, only to remember that he was completely face-down. “Can you even breathe like that? Honestly, when it comes down to it, you’re just as bad as the rest of your brothers.” Not even mild lectures worked, huh? You reached down, finding his chin, turning his head just enough so his face was partially exposed. His slightly parted lips seemed to breathe in the air a little easier. You brushed his hair away from his closed eyes. “There you go.” Your hand seemed to linger on the side of his face. He was so warm. Almost too warm. “Rest easier now.” Your thumb rubbed at his sharp cheekbone. “Your brothers, your worries, leave them with me.” You got away with pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Return when you are ready, and not a moment sooner, you hear me?...I’ll be back in the morning to check on you.” With that, you figured you had done what you could for the time being. You dropped your touch from him, quietly striding from his room, using the key to lock his door behind you. 

Hot…Why were you suddenly so unbelievably hot? You opened your eyes, trying to remember where you had last closed them. Ah, that was right, you had fallen asleep in the living room on one of the couches, not wanting to disturb Mammon’s sleep in your bed. Sure, you could’ve probably used greed’s own bed in return but…that didn’t feel right. However, when you fully opened your eyes, you were confused to find you were in your own room. Had you come here half-asleep or something? Or did… You raised your head, sitting up, or at least trying to sit up. Something, or someone was holding onto you. Actually, as your senses began to clear, multiple someone’s seemed to be keeping you in their grasp. Mammon was where you had left him on your bed, now to your left, holding your wrist in his hand. Belphie was to your direct right, clinging to your side. Beel was somehow right next to his twin, managing to fit himself on the small sliver of mattress that remained. Then there was Levi…curled up over all four of you, sleeping over the covers directly on your legs, wrapped up in the blanket you’d left for him. Satan was propped up against the wall at your feet, Wrath’s legs curled up to leave room for Asmo. The fifth and fourth-born were leaning against each other, keeping each other from falling over, a blanket loosely draped over the both of them. And then there was the eldest…seated in a chair beside the overstuffed bed, leaning forward to keep his back from touching the support of the seat, one of his arms outstretched, resting over both of the twins, his hand somehow managing to find yours in this mess of limbs. When they had gotten here, how they had gotten here, how you had ended up here, you had no clue. They were all asleep again though, still in the process of recovering. You had half a mind to wake all of them up, giving them a stern reminder on what it means to stay in bed! 

But no…you couldn’t do that. Not now. You’d let them have this moment, even if you were impossibly warm from all the body heat. Not that you could exactly break free from these demonic binds nor could you carry them back to their rooms. They had all probably come in one-by-one. You chuckled to yourself at the sheer ridiculousness of it, at all of them. “Sleep well, all of you,” you whispered. “Feel better soon.” 

[gege-wondering-around]

WIP Whenever

@dontcallpanic tagged me for this and im so happy to participate! here's another sneak peek into the fia au i'm writing - maybe it's not the most exciting part, but i can't spoiler too much, can i now? (but i'm sure @patolemus may enjoy - this is your lucky week my friend, so mcuh is coming out about this work!)

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“Stiles.”   The man had been calling by his first name in the past few months, the boy didn’t really mind it happening, it felt refreshing to be respected and not called whatever name passed by the mobsters’ minds while in the training arena; with body turning around to face him, putting on a shirt long enough to reach the end of the boxers, he let out some words: “yeah, master?” He had been using that little name they’ve told him to say; not a fan. Nothing escaped the sealed lips of a stone still judge scanning the slim figure of a doll in waiting; the Hale’s underground cave of processing trainees seemed too humble for its owner and purpose, empty and naked; yet fit for how everyone who actually knew the man within described him as: a man of simple life. Stiles had never been more tempted to test people’s opinions, however something disturbed the articulated thoughts a clever mind was already forming; “why don’t you come here for a moment?”  Nothing other than oblige, bare feet made no sound of steps on the hard floor; at least he wasn’t just out the shower, with nothing on if not a towel wrapped around his hips; he knew Derek wouldn’t mind that. In a few long movements he was standing patiently with the elegance of a ballerina on stage, where was the first note of start for the dance? “Sit by my side, won’t you?”  So many questions at which Stiles couldn't actually disagree without setting back the plan… Somehow the man was never of a threatening imposition, so calm of demeanor and even more gentle in gestures; it was strange but welcomed by the boy, glad to not have to deal with a barbaric man any more than he had to during training; he had broken so many bones on that concrete pavement, a few drops of opponents’ blood were sewed in it each time after his passing. He did as he was asked, mimicking the man’s way without appearing disrespectful, and did so much willingly despite the tense posture he sporadically had whenever Derek asked him to come so close; it never felt quite right, but he accepted the hardship of endurance to avenge the caring father he had lost. He could deny the man, but denial could never fit into a full grave. “I have a question for you.” It was expected, the man had been asking many in the last week; Stiles hoped it could be about an answer that would speed up the undying plan that was eating his heart. “What’s it about?” Never once an answer of his was longer than necessary, with an everlasting flat tone with no emotion in it, and somehow the man picked him for such a molecular characteristic; there was no need to chit chat with Derek Hale about the weather. A calluses hand caressed a pale tigh, Stiles didn’t move it away but the muscles flexed in memorized response, unwillingly sharing his truest thoughts; Derek never did more than that, for a reason the boy didn’t mind digging up. He was fine, any price was manageable by the poor, as he was so even in his heart; nothing to lose. Why the man seemed to never be able to avert his eyes from Stiles’, he could never tell though; yet the hand, the touch, the feeling… Everything was never a gesture that could ever feel as threat, Derek didn’t seem to be a man of harmful pleasure, whatever enjoyment he might search from the few dolls he kept close; they were four or five, each so peculiar and deemed worthy by the wolf, yet none was ever enough to be his favorite.

Besides, it was his role to fill, he just needed to be patient and let the man open a way for him to slither into; Stiles could mold into anything and a cast just came his way to take a step further. “Would you like to be one of my personal dolls?” His words were accompanied by another sentence, much useless as Stiles would’ve said ‘yes’ without a need for anything more; “no more market training, just a bed and a stable role for you, wouldn't that be nice?”  Lips perked in a smile, fists tightened and a long exhale left rosy nostrils; Derek collected everything, stored it well and secured in the depths of a sophisticated mind, waiting patiently for an answer he already knew from the start of the day.  “Would love to if you want me.” Another part of the plan sailed for good, he achieved another inch of closure to the woman he wanted to bring down to the misery he was in, hidden so well beneath all the scheduling that the cold nights have provided him before putting his name in the list of possible dolls.  A hand held his waist in place to stick close by the man’s side; something had escaped his crafted figure of immovable doll. “Ah, here it is that smirk of yours,” Derek promptly remarked; Stiles tried to make it fall, “don’t.” He listened.

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ahh, i will add more to the chapter this comes from cause this was a big chunk of it and i feel like there wouldn't be much more in the chapter if you read this, anyway i hope you'll enjoy and i'm tagging my usuals @dontcallpanic (yep tagging you back, feel free to post more or not🩵) @patolemus @hellameyers @seaweed-water @jadezdominion @demonicfaerie

if they are interested @sterekloverforever @oldefashioned (miss you buddy)

[pparadiselost]

command & master.

kageyama tobio x fem reader the best pet is one that's disciplined. warning(s): nsfw, femdom, bdsm, orgasm control, orgasm denial, analplay, male masturbation, petplay, commandplay, ruined orgasm, scentplay, voyeurism minors do not interact. author's note: inspired off of owaranai hibi by dhibi.

“good boy, tobio. you worked hard.”

there’s a weight that lifts off of kageyama tobio’s chest the moment you lock the front door behind you. a switch flips inside his head at the sound of his given name slipping past your lips, and his knees threaten to give out underneath him at the sudden shift in his behavior. his head feels foggy, and he has little recollection of how he even made it back home. 

It’s all a blur in his head. he can see snippets of you holding his hand and his ragged breathing going up the stairs, but he’s gotten home in one piece and that’s really all that matters to him.

“what’s wrong?” your voice has a softened, affectionate tone to it, but kageyama knows by now that underneath the honey and sugar lies a trap. you reach out towards him, and when your palm brushes against his cheek, he unconsciously nuzzles into the touch. “your face is so flushed… poor thing.”

his body feels hot. if he had to describe it, he would say it was similar to running a hot fever. he almost feels like he’s trapped inside of his own body. his mind and his physicality are utterly disconnected, with the scraps of his pride struggling to thrash around in his subconscious while the rest of him veers dangerously towards winning your approval.

and you know this. you know this all too well.

as if you can read his thoughts, the corners of your lips curl into what he can only describe as a sadistic grin. despite the way you carefully caress his cheek, the beautifully contained words poised as worry, your eyes are absolutely dancing with glee. he’s miserable, and you know it. you’re fully relishing the fact that you’re the cause and the cure of his inner turmoil, and it makes him shiver with dread and delight.

“oh, alright, alright. i’ll quit messing with you. you’ve been so good for me, tobio,” you practically purr the words, enjoying the way the syllables roll off of your tongue. the atmosphere is thick and heavy, like electricity hangs in the air waiting for the singular spark to set it all ablaze. “it must have been so hard for you. but you did it for me, didn’t you? you’re almost there, i promise. one last hurdle, okay?”

his legs are jelly as he wobbles after you. he’s never been this hard in his life, his cock actively choking behind the thin fabric of his athletic shorts, and he’s glad that his jacket is oversized enough to cover his crotch. he’s like a moth led to a flame, trailing after your beautiful silhouette as you lure him into your bedroom.

“let’s go over what we’ve learned.” you flick the lights on your way in, and the dim lighting casts long shadows across the walls of the bedroom. if kageyama was more coherent, he’d think they resembled ghosts. maybe one of them would be a whisper of the proud and unwavering man he once was, unafraid of the world and of anyone that might come his way. 

you plop down on the edge of your shared bed with him. he stands in front of you dumbly, staring at you with unblinking glassy eyes. his limbs feel heavy, like they’ve been filled with metal. he strips himself, and his cock hangs like a deadweight despite being so hard that he thinks he’s going to suffocate. his clothes crumple off to the side, in a lifeless pool of fabric and threading that oddly resembles him.

you click his tongue before he can get too distracted. he snaps to life as if he’s been zapped with a taser. 

“tobio, kneel.”

fuck.

his body reacts before his mind can, and his legs give away. he crumples to the floor in front of you with a dull ‘thud.’ some deep recess inside of his broken mind feels full, fuzzy, and happy in following your words blindly. his knees throb slightly from the impact, but the pain grounds him a bit. the warmth coiling in and out like a pulse inside of his stomach flutters for a split second, and kageyama swallows the saliva in his mouth, feeling it ooze down his esophagus.

he tips his head upwards so that he’s looking up at you. your legs are crossed, and you look down at him proudly. you’ve propped your face up with one hand, and you peer at him like you’re observing some kind of specimen. a lower being. someone no longer human and most definitely underneath you.

“good boy. tobio, stay.”

he swallows again desperately, and you wait a second to make sure he won’t budge before lifting yourself off of the edge. he follows you with only his eyes as you saunter over to where you keep your belongings, and he hears you tinkering with your things before coming back with a perfume bottle in your hands. it’s your perfume. the same scent you apply on yourself every morning whenever you go out, and the same scent he can make out lingering in your hair or your pillow.

you slowly uncap the bottle before holding it out in front of the air above kageyama’s sunken head. you spritz once, twice, thrice and watch the particles linger before disappearing. kageyama’s heart sinks to his stomach, and you must have seen the split second of lucid panic flash in his eyes. 

he debates holding his breath, but you click your tongue reprimandingly again.

“bad boy. tobio, sniff.” you chastise him, lips turning downwards into a disapproving frown. you’re going to be the death of him, but kageyama’s obedient if not anything else. he weakly lifts his head again, and he takes in a deep inhale of your scent.

it goes straight to his dick. the absolutely tantalizing aroma of your personal scent makes him feel crazy, fighting against every maniacal instinct clawing and burying its nails into his body to not leap to his feet and stuff his nose against your body. he wants to fuck you, wants you to fuck him so bad, to cut to the chase and quit turning him on so much that it’s starting to physically hurt him.

“that’s a good expression,” you giggle to yourself. you know he’s fighting to keep control over his broken body. you’ve seen him bury his head into the crook of your neck and inhale like a fiend one too many times to turn a blind eye to his not-so-subtle scent kink, and you think it’s magnificent to see him fall apart over a little bit of perfume. “okay. how are you feeling? i’ve forced you to keep up with this game of mine for… is it two weeks now already? gosh, time goes by so fast!”

you pause momentarily, and then you laugh, smacking your forehead gently. “oh! i almost forgot! tobio, speak.”

he croaks like a dying, wounded creature. “...‘t hurts. you’re torturing me. you’re going to kill me.”

“i won’t kill you. i care about you too much for that,” you hum with a satisfied expression. kageyama doesn’t know how he’s survived the past 14 days. he knew from the start that some of your fetishes were unconventional, but he still found it exciting to know that you trusted him enough to ask him to do these things for you. there was a part of his heart that fluttered when you first shyly pressed a cock ring into his big palms and asked him to keep it on whenever he could so that you could control every single one of his orgasms.

he still feels the drunken pangs of love intermixing with arousal and pain swirling in his head when he looks up at you with such broken eyes. his balls are heavy from not being able to cum for so long, but the unabashedly delighted expression on your face makes him think that it might be worth it.

“we still have a lot of work to do though,” you muse. “but i’m a person of my word. so i’ll let you have a reward today for meeting the two week milestone, okay? what do you want as your reward?”

tobio doesn’t need to think twice. his tongue is heavy and sloppy and uncontrollable, and yet he’s drooling and pushing the words out like a dam’s broken inside of his swimming consciousness. “please- please let me fuck you- let me fuck your pussy with my cock, please…! wanna put it inside you, wanna cum inside you, wanna have sex with you-”

you barely stifle a mocking laugh. you wonder where the bravado of one of the world’s most coveted athletes has gone. you can remember the rush in your heart when you first laid eyes on him, enchanted with the sheer charisma he had on the court, making each and every one of the players dance to his finely tuned beat. 

but instead, the man in front of you is no more than a starved dog. you’re lucky that you’re someone who keeps a tight leash. breaking his prideful spirit was no easy task, but you’re glad you did it. otherwise, you might not have been able to delight in his misery so openly.

“don’t be ridiculous, tobio. i said i’d reward you, not let you do whatever you want.” you lean forward, and your pussy throbs at the way the shock settles like the touch of winter’s frost in kageyama’s shattered eyes. you swear you can make out your reflection in his widened pupils, and like a lovesick puppet, kageyama veers shakily forward when you move in so that he can be a bit closer to you. you’ve got him dancing in the palm of your hand, and nothing makes your heart race faster than seeing him this ruined.

“it’s alright though. there’s no need for you to look so heartbroken. it makes me feel bad,” you pause poignantly. “almost. i have an idea though! don’t worry, i’ll let you cum. it’d be too much even for me to leave you hanging dry after you’ve been this receptive towards my training. good boys always get a fitting reward.”

you point your finger at the first drawer in the little dresser by your side of the bed. your smile is nothing but angelic, and had he seen you looking at him with such devotion dripping from your eyes in any other situation, kageyama believes he would have fallen in love with you all over again. 

“tobio, fetch.”

his thighs ache, and kageyama’s breathing is hot and comes out in short puffs. his cock dangles and bounces uselessly as he crawls over to your dresser. his agile fingers curl around the handle, and his heart pounds like a death march as he slowly pulls the drawer out. 

inside is a singular dildo. your smile doesn’t waver even once as he lifts it gingerly, and he turns to you as if waiting dutifully for your next instructions. it doesn’t take a genius for him to piece together what you’re going to make him do. 

sure, you’ll be merciful enough to let him cum. you just won’t let him cum for his cock. 

“you know what to do, don’t you? such a well-trained boy. you make me so proud. why don’t you do me a favor and put on a pretty little show for me with that? if i were you, i’d make the most of it. you don’t know when i’ll let you cum again next.” your deceptively gentle voice has pre-cum dribbling out of his straining length. 

ah, kageyama knows there’s something deeply wrong with him. this is humiliating in every sense of the word, and yet there’s something to you that has him hooked. you’re everything to him, a person for him to worship, for him to do anything for, have him hooked like a fish on a line veering towards its inevitable end, addicted to the illicit edge of having everything about him dangling at your fingertips. 

it feels good. it feels good when he plants the dildo down firmly on the floor in front of you. it feels good as he spreads his legs sheepishly. it feels good when you scrutinize him from head to toe like every inch of his flesh and bone and skin belongs to you. it feels good when he feels the thick head of the dildo prodding against his taut hole.

it feels so, so, so obscenely good when he sinks down on the toy, letting it stretch the pliant muscles of his ass out and the weeping weight of his poor forgotten cock straining in between his spread legs. 

you’re entranced immediately. he starts off slowly. it’s not the first time he’s taken something inside his ass, and yet, it feels so foreign and new each time he does. he rides the dildo with shallow bounces, carefully maneuvering himself up and down the toy’s length. if you also weren’t aroused out of your mind, you’d marvel at how strong kageyama’s legs were. it’s no wonder that he has the reputation of being prideful: every single aspect of him has been built up through a lifetime’s worth of hard work and tenacious dedication.

he feels the stretch deep in his stomach, the foreign ache in his muscles. he should feel any sense of shame, embarrassment at being this lewd in front of you, humping some plastic toy like he’s no better than an animal giving in to his most base instincts, but something about the scraps of attention you toss his way makes him want to grovel in front of you for more. you’re so strict, so harsh, not willing to give him any wiggle room for him to be selfish. maybe that’s why each word of praise, each little treat you’re willing to indulge with him feels so sweet yet so painful. he’s hard to work for every little bit of it, even if it kills him more and more inwardly.

“how are you feeling, sweetheart? talk to me,” you murmur. your eyes are fixated on his body. drops of sweat trickle down his forehead and the expanse of his beautifully sculpted torso. his chest rises and falls as arousal seeps through every vein in his body. tobio feels like he’s crumbling in front of you. 

“full- my ass feels full- it’s stretching me out- so big- such a big toy-,” the words come out so naturally, despite him knowing that he should be more hesitant. the dildo slides in and out of him as he moves his hips, and he whines loudly as his asshole flutters and stretches out on the girth of the toy. “wanna cum with my cock- wanna touch my cock- want you to touch with my cock, please-”

“nonsense, tobio.” you cut him off firmly. “see? even now you’re talking back to me. it means we’re not quite done with your training yet. i’m your owner, which means you have to listen to me. you don’t see dogs talking back to their owners, do you?”

your stern voice sounds like the most harmonious melody to him, even though you’re so hellbent on making his life miserable. he wonders just how hard and how deep he must have fallen for you, to get turned on by something like you telling him no. he shakes his head shakily. “n-no- i’m sorry- my ass feels good- feels really good! love having it inside me- love fucking myself-”

you smile at him again, and it makes his cock throb. you’re getting off on him fucking himself further and further on the toy, desperately moving himself up and down on its length chasing some form of release. he knows he’s not going to find what he wants, but he’s smart. he’s smart enough to take what little you’re going to give him, because without it, he thinks he might genuinely lose whatever string of sanity he’s grasping onto for dear life.

“ah-,” he mewls pathetically. every part of him feels heavy and sluggish. dull thrums of arousal claw at his stomach, the muscles in his abs tightening and relaxing before tightening again. he’s moving faster on top of the toy now, starting to take it deeper and deeper. the pleasure is shooting all throughout his body. his chest feels tight and his skin clammy, his brain clambering to fight through the fogginess behind his eyes to fully register everything he’s putting himself through. 

“does it feel good, tobio? does fucking yourself on a toy in front of me make you feel good? you look like you’re having so much fun right now…,” there’s a hint of amusement in your words, and you peer down at kageyama with such fondness in your eyes. you think he’s prettiest when he’s at his wit’s end. he’s bucking his hips wildly, going from the shallow thrusts to grinding and wiggling his hips lewdly, so dedicated to chasing his own high but also giving you a show worthy of your time.

he nods, head lolling on his neck. his voice threatens to break. “ye-es…! so good- my ass feels so full- love fucking myself on a cock like this… love it when you order me around… makes me wanna cum…”

“yeah? you like being treated this way?” you say, pretending to be surprised. “gosh, you’re flattering me… are you trying to be someone special to me, tobio? you know that you already are… i’m the only one who gets to see this sweet, sweet side of you. trust me, i don’t take that for granted.”

you know that he doesn’t have any other option than to give into the mindlessness of letting you have complete control, but at the same time, you don’t doubt that he’s being honest, given how red and swollen his tip is. there’s pre-cum leaking almost in nonstop rivulets from his slit, but there’s no relief to be found for his cock. no matter how much his heavy balls quiver and tense up, there’s nothing you’re willing to do for him. 

his ass hits the hilt of the dildo, and he lets out a loud, broken cry. your cunt clenches in on itself as he stays there for a second, savoring the feeling of fullness. the dildo’s head prods and breaches against his g-spot, enough to make kageyama feel like the wind’s been knocked out of him. it takes everything in him just to breathe as he sits there in front of you, eyes glossy with tears and pleasure poisoning the corners of his brain. 

“ooh, you managed to take it all!” you clap your hands together excitedly. “i can still remember when you’d struggle to get just the tip in… you’ve done so well. you’re so hot when you fuck yourself on a dildo like that… and i bet it feels even better to get to fuck it after two straight weeks of not getting any action whatsoever.”

he manages a shaky inhale. 

“keep grinding on it, tobio,” you command him firmly. you’re sure he’s fighting to keep whatever little control of his body he has left, his limbs melting into both pain and pleasure. the head of the dildo keeps fucking against his g-spot, and tobio thinks he’s going to faint from how good it feels. his stomach keeps twisting itself into tight knots, and heat flares up all over his core. he clings to your words, moving his hips back and forth, grinding down on the base of the toy. 

“so-o big-,” his words are slurring together into one big mush. his movements are growing sloppy, more animalistic, doing his best to chase his high without disobeying you. he needs your permission to cum, after all, and doing so without your approval is bound to seal his fate. “please- wanna cum- please let me cum…! ‘m so close- so close to cumming from my ass… it feels good, please- please, please, i wanna cum from my ass!”

“my, such a well-mannered boy,” you coo at him. “you remembered to ask for my permission. but i don’t know, tobio… i want to enjoy you like this a little longer. do you think you can do that for me?”

fuck. your entire body is crawling with heat, arousal pulsing throughout your senses. you breathe deeply, trying to keep yourself controlled so that you can continue pushing kageyama’s buttons. he’s actively falling apart in front of you. his legs are shaking as he rides the toy, going between grinding down on it and mewling uncontrollably as his orgasm threatens to push him over the edge. 

the lewd noises of him pleasuring himself and his sobs echo throughout the room. your mouth feels dry, and you lick your lips. he grits his teeth, eyes fluttering weakly, as he drinks up the tantalizing sight of your tongue dragging across your bottom lip. his cock feels like it’s about to explode, and seeing you in front of him isn’t helping him at all.

what he wouldn’t give to have those pretty lips on him, to feel you kissing the bare expanses of his skin, your soft mouth moving against his chest and abs, kissing up his torso and pressing your lips against his arms. maybe you’d kiss his delicate hands too, circling your haughty tongue against his calloused fingertips. his cock throbs an embarrassing amount at the thought of his fingers inside your mouth, and he has to ball his hands into fists to keep himself from touching himself in a way that would make you angry.

“please-,” his voice is barely a whisper, and he looks at you with watering eyes. fat tears threaten to breach his underlashes, and when he blinks, they glide down the unmarred expanses of his porcelain-like cheeks. “i can’t take it anymore- i can’t- can’t do it… gonna cum! my ass feels so good- my ass can’t take it- please, please, let me cum! let me cum… i wanna cum, everything just feels too good…!”

you purse your lips. it’s not like you don’t disagree with him. you know the past few days have been agony for the poor boy. you don’t know how he managed to perform his best in his games and practice while struggling to keep all of his carnal desires at bay, but at the same time, you wonder what he would look like when you’d crush any sense of hope for him. what would he do if you said he couldn’t cum? even though you said you’d let him? 

would he accept your cruelty without complaint? he’s so desperate to be your good boy, to have you acknowledge his unwavering submission to you. he might simply hang his head and accept it, letting you console him with a simple kiss to his forehead as you wrestle his swollen cock back into its imprisonment.

you tilt your head slightly. “you’re so needy… i didn’t say you could cum yet, did you? Begging like this isn’t going to get you anywhere. you’ll cum when i say you can. your entire body belongs to me, and that includes your ass. you can do better than this. i know you can.”

your words are like knives digging into his overstimulated body. his vision is blurry, and it’s taking everything in him just to keep up with his lewd display. his muscles are straining, aching all throughout his form, but the pain keeps egging him on. bits of drool slip past his mouth, frantic gasps emanating from the young man.

“i’m sorry- have mercy on me-,” the way he looks at you with such pleading eyes makes your cunt squeeze. this is your most obscene dream come true, and the wet sounds of kageyama working his ass up and down the now-slick toy has you curling your fingers into the bedsheets. “you said you’d reward me- you said i’d get a reward- that i could cum with my ass… you’ll kill me… i just wanna cum!”

“i don’t know…,” your voice trails off to demonstrate that you weren’t convinced of his desperation quite yet. kageyama thinks he’s going to go crazy with need. his body can’t take it much longer, and if he doesn’t get your permission soon, he knows he’s going to be in for a world of trouble. some masochistic side of him melts and flutters at the thought of you punishing him even more, breaking down every single one of his senses until nothing else exists in his world except for the thought of you completely monopolizing him. 

he swallows heavily, and his adam’s apple bobs as he frantically racks his brain. there’s not much he can do to appeal to you, but he’s willing to give anything a try. he’s on his last legs, and he’s willing to do anything to appeal himself to you. 

“i love you-,” he cries out, face all flushed and sweaty hair sticking to his forehead in splayed out strands. “i love you! i love you so much- please, let me cum! i wanna cum- love you, love you soooo much…!”

oh, this was new. gosh, he was just too pure-hearted. he was pulling on your heartstrings perfectly, his garbled sweet words in perfect contrast to the depravity you were pushing him through. he was too cute for his own good, digging his grave further and further with each word that he uses to bargain for his needs. so pitiful, so desperate, you just wish you can keep in this broken down state forever.

it’s hard not to be endeared by him. he’s staring at you so pathetically, imploring silently for you to grant him the release he’s chasing so ardently. there’s truly no room for anything or anybody else in his eyes right now. you’re all that matters, the only one who grants him a stroke of salvation in the darkness muddling his consciousness, a true paragon of dedicated domination in his eyes.

your lips quirk upwards into that smile he loves so much.

“oh, don’t beg like that. it almost makes me feel bad,” you laugh under your breath. the sound is soft and melodic, and the young athlete bucks his hips to your words. you gingerly extend a hand forward from where you’re perched on the mattress, and just like he did earlier, you let him slot his face into your palm. you nuzzle his blushing cheek, your thumb smoothing over the delicate skin of his face. “alright. you did well. i've had my fun too, i suppose. go ahead.”

you lean forward. you whisper softly, like a true lover murmuring a tender lullaby to their beloved. isn’t that what the two of you were, despite all the twists and turns, the corruption in its purest form? 

“tobio, cum.”

it’s like something inside of his mind shatters completely. he sinks down onto the base of the toy, and he lets out a piercing cry. pre-cum drips again from his swollen length as his orgasm grips him from head to toe. he buries his face into your palm, trying frantically to inhale more of your scent as heat rushes all over his body. his toes curl into the floor as he shakes and grinds down against the toy stuffed up his ass, milking and tormenting his g-spot.

you sit there, grinning like a predator closing in on its prey. it’s a rush you don’t think you’ll ever get sick of, both pain and pleasure swirling in kageyama’s wavering mind. he must feel so good right now, getting the reward he’s been deprived of for so long, and yet still not getting the actual thing he had been chasing this entire time. his cock hangs and flops around uselessly, straining in between his spread thighs. 

he lets out a string of incoherent cries and sobs, sniffling. you can feel his tears wetting your skin, but you let him have your hand at the very least. it feels like an eternity for kageyama to fully ride out the sickeningly addictive euphoria of his high, but when he finally musters enough strength to lift his head like an ousted prince gazing upon a forlorn throne, you think the joy is over far too quickly. 

“did you have fun?” you ask innocently. he doesn’t have the strength or the brainpower to properly answer you, and you don’t hold it against him. he nods feebly into your palm like the loyal lapdog he is. he practically collapses forward, and you catch him with your legs, letting him slump over onto the heavenly expanses of your knees and thighs. you comb your fingers through his hair, and you watch as the slick toy slides out of his ass, falling over onto the floor next to him without fanfare.

his cock is still rock hard. such a poor thing, you muse to yourself. you commend yourself for getting far along in his training that he knows better than to throw a fit after having gotten some semblance of an orgasm. you’ve been so patient, so firm with him, and you’re starting to reap the fruits of your labor.

“i’m so proud of you. you did so good for me. put on such a good show for me. i’m going to remember this for the rest of my life, you know that? remember how good and obedient and submissive you were,” you praise him gently, even though you know he’s too out of it to really take in any of your admiration. “tobio. do you know where your cock ring is? do you remember where you put it?”

he mumbles something into your legs that you can’t quite make out. oh well. you’re sure he’s stuffed it either into his pockets somewhere or buried it inside his athletic bag. it’s nearly romantic, just how dedicatedly he takes care of that ring, even if it’s a bastardized version of love that you bring to the table for him to feast on.

“good boy.” you let him lay there for now, taking a few minutes for him to catch back up with reality. you think this might be a slice of your personal heaven, enjoying the weight of him slumped over onto you, the lively spark in him snuffed out so breathtakingly by the weight of your sadism. “once you can, let’s go take a long, cold shower, okay? i gotta make your dick go back down so i can put you back into the ring. oh, honey, don’t be so sad. you’ve done so well up until now…”

you have full faith that he’s going to do even better for you in the future.

KINKTOBER 2024—la première semaine.

if you enjoyed my writing and would like to show appreciation, you can do so by donating to help ruba's family evacuate gaza. time is running out for her family, so if you ever had any thoughts about tipping or commissioning me, please extend that generosity to those in need.

[thatmooncake]

The way Sun and Moon have experienced so much hurt and so much horror but in a way they may never be able to fully address because they just may not quite have the full understanding or the drive to unpack all of what’s happened to them in any sort of context beyond just seeing it as another part of their lives as silly jesters performing at the whims of other people as a small fragment of a dying franchise. That denial and where that understanding escapes them makes it even more tricky for them to heal because they can’t even begin to come to terms with the way the virus and their repurposing has affected them both, but the horrors keep on coming and they’re slowly unraveling and they know - they’ve known from the start - that something is wrong, and yet they can’t quite figure out what for the longest time.

When the virus hits, they just carry on as normal because that’s all they’ve ever known. They notice the other one is acting differently and it alarms them but they aren’t listened to. Perhaps they don’t openly voice their concerns, or maybe no one is there to hear them. Perhaps they don’t even stumble upon the answer until a long time has passed, sitting in denial, just blocking out the changes and the concerns, and the other one whose existence has now thrown their lives into turmoil.

Sun carries on like everything’s fine and dandy - that is, until he can’t anymore. What a life. Always on. Always acting. He’s a good actor, sure, but when you’re meant to play one half of a day-night cycle I bet it wears at you when you now have to cover both shifts. The fact that he’s even trying to - he’s desperate not to be pulled back into the abyss so Moon can come out because he knows how broken Moon is right now. And I’m guessing that even if he did have a clue how to fix them (which, maybe he honestly didn’t, or simply wouldn’t come to terms with until he saw the faz-wrench in Cassie’s hand in Ruin), he couldn’t leave the daycare at most hours because he’d be at work, entertaining the kids, or not supposed to be out if the daycare was out of order. And then when the pizzaplex was closed, there were the blackouts all over, keeping him locked in where the generators were, where he’d have a chance to retreat into the light (and we can’t forget how useful Moon was to Afton and co as a retrieval bot, so he’d be out and about of course, they’d make sure of that, but not as himself).

The alternative would have been knowingly risking unleashing Moon upon more potentially innocent victims, and getting both of them in even more trouble when he should have been out. He should have been making sure things stayed working at least a little bit. And we see Sun fighting Moon with everything he has in the Ruin jumpscares just so they won’t do something they’ll regret. How long has he been fighting? How many times might he have tried and failed to stop Moon and woken up with blood on his hands?

How exhausting that must have been. Did he blame Moon at all? Any animosity between them could only have hurt more. And even if he didn’t give in to that frustration, the fact is, he was keeping Moon away that whole time, not letting him out to play. For his own good or not, that can’t have felt nice, and it certainly can’t have been easy.

And then Moon on the other hand expresses little clear awareness that something is wrong in Security Breach itself, at least none that’s addressed to Gregory or any of the others, simply going about his business, but it’s heavily implied he knows - and maybe he always knew - that there is something pulling from beneath the surface from the things he says in Ruin. “It won’t work!” He knows at that point at least that Sun (or perhaps Cassie) has a plan, of sorts. But he denies it. He doesn’t trust in that plan to fix them. He knows Sun is there, fighting to come out the moment the lights come on. He’s determined not to stay locked away anymore.

Imagine that frustration too. He wants Sun gone - he has to - because he’s in pain as long as the lights are on. And we can tell from Sun’s sad little song that he feels every bit of emptiness when he’s not active as well. And yet, being active feels like a desperate struggle on both sides as well. They’re in a constant battle with themselves, and there can be no victor.

Now imagine if Moon’s awareness - or his relative resignation at the state of the virus - had extended way back to the main game, when they first became afflicted by it. Knowing there was nothing he or Sun could do to stop it - because he (because they?) tried, and failed? Or just (optionally, if we’re considering the novels) because he was always the “villainous” appendix FazCorp couldn’t cut out of the otherwise comparatively “functional” working daycare attendant? Because then maybe Moon knew all along that there wasn’t a version of events where he was actually supposed to be here anymore.

(When he was infected by the virus, on the other hand? Moon had a purpose. Not a nice one, exactly, but a purpose nonetheless. Something Sun still had in the daycare that he wasn’t allowed. It’s not surprising that they ended up at odds with each other at all no matter how you look at it.)

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

Some betrothed/royalty au doodles, ft. Reader soothing Eclipse during one of his stressed-to-the-point-of-breaking-down-moments, and the first time Reader met Sun (and, not realizing who he was or that he was a royal, decided to start happily chatting with him as if they were on the same level, which caught Sun off guard lmao)

Some betrothed/royalty AU tidbits n info below the cut!

- Reader is a footman! Or,, lady in waiting. Or foot,,person,,, in waiting. Whatever the gender neutral version is, they’re that to Eclipse!

- They’ve known Eclipse for a long time! They were born to a servant who worked in his castle, and tended to follow their mother around as she worked- occasionally crossing paths with Eclipse, and sometimes playing games with him when he was avoiding his tutoring or responsibilities sjdhdjd

- They’re smart and practical, and Eclipse wants to make them his advisor as soon as he has the jurisdiction to do so. They’re very good at seeing the issues politicians debate over from the outside view, one of the people, but also can keep in mind what the political side to an issues is, and Eclipse often asks them what they think when they’re alone and considers it very unfair that their voice would never be taken seriously if brought up at the table.

- Eclipse has had a crush on them for a while lmao

- Also he’s over protective and jealous and has broken at least one(1) bone in defending reader from a rude servant or pushy royal lol :3

- (he has extensively researched ways he could possibly marry Reader without making the entire kingdom hate them n call them a manipulative vex for it)

- Sun and Moon overlook two neighboring kingdoms and have been ‘betrothed’/co-ruling them for a long time! Eclipse’s counsel has decided it would be a good idea to have Eclipse, when he takes charge of his kingdom, be the third to this ally-ship and make a trifecta of three countries that can act as one

- So they’re not really BETROTHED betrothed, but the social implication is basically the same lmao

- (none of them r super thrilled, Eclipse especially lmaoooo)

- Reader first meets Sun separately from Moon, and assumes he’s just a fellow servinghand at the banquet being held to celebrate Eclipse n Sun n Moon meeting under the same roof for the first time

- They start chatting with him like it’s no big deal and he’s so used to ppl being all kiss-ass or backhanded that he can’t stop thinkin abt it for days

- They meet Moon in the garden! They show him their favorite spots and a small patch of blue violets they’ve been trying to cultivate

- When they realize who Sun and Moon are, they just about die on the spot from pure societal horror

- They try to apologize in a thousand different ways, but Sun n Moon, more than a little intrigued/smitten with them, both won’t have it and encourage them to be just as they were

- Before Sun n Moon realize they have feelings for Reader, they realize ECLIPSE has feelings for Reader, and, definitely not bc they r big jealous and also in love with Reader, make it their personal mission to cockblock make sure Eclipse never has the chance to confess or have an almost-kiss with Reader

- Reader loves Eclipse! When that love turned romantic is unsure, and how they’ve been able to cope is by Not Acknowledging The Feelings At All and also denial lmao. When they start to crush on Sun n Moon, they can’t rlly deny the feelings anymore and have several existential and romantic themed crises over it

- None of the boys tell each other about their feelings for Reader bc they all just messy like that <3

- When they all end up confessing to Reader, it’s separately and secretly, and Reader is so shocked that they just say “HHUH UM YYEA I LIKE U ALSO” without thinking

- So now they have three secret royalty bfs and have several more existential crises about whether this is cheating and how in the good golly fuck they got THIS many sweet mans all 🥺👉👈 over them

THATS ALL I GOT FOR NOW LOL OK BYE SORRY FOR LENGTH N RAMBLES

[phyx-m]

Beneath The Silk | True form Sukuna x Reader

🔗 Masterlist

Chapter 22: Small Blade

Content warning: Fighting, broken bones, mention of vomiting, Sukuna's foot (you heard me)

🔗 Songs for this chapter:

Oh Well - Snake River Conspiracy A Smaller God - Darling Violetta

* * * * *

Chapter 21 | Chapter 23

* * * * *

You blink away sleep as you stare at the subtle hint of amber treetops surrounding the shrine, watching the sun gradually climb into the sky. The morning is calm, beautiful, with a fine mist clinging to the ground and occasional leaves drifting into your path.

Although the view is pleasant, you had hoped to rest a little longer after returning from a gruelling six-day journey to the north and back. Instead, Ren roused you at some ungodly hour, urging you to dress comfortably and meet Uraume at the back of the shrine.

Confused and exhausted, you complied. When you stepped outside and found them waiting near the treeline—standing on a patch of thinning grass, holding two miniature wooden bokkens in hand—your curiosity grew.

According to the King of Curses, who is gone again—though you suspect, he’s off dealing with mounting troubles within his domain—he has thrust the responsibility of training you with a weapon upon the white-haired monk.

Why the hell would he want to do that? You’ve never considered yourself a fighter, nor have you trained or wielded a weapon. You’ve only observed. The men of the Kasai clan excel with their weaponry, training, killing, and battling—it’s their passion above all else. 

If anything, you almost wish Sukuna knew about your gift and could help nurture that instead, but that isn’t a possibility. The element of surprise remains your greatest advantage over him.

So, at first, you consider refusing but quickly change your mind. If there’s a chance to learn and expand your arsenal, you’ll take it.

However, you regret that decision the moment Uraume sends you crashing onto your back for the fifteenth time—or perhaps even more; you’ve lost count.

Staring up at the soft afternoon blue above, you watch them circle you slowly, their kimono billowing in the slightest breeze.

"Your footwork is all wrong,” they point out, pink eyes narrowing as they look down at you. "Strength alone won’t help. You need to move with intention, not just react. Watch my steps and mimic them—otherwise, you’re merely swinging blindly."

No shit.

Pushing yourself up, you resist the urge to glare at them, brushing dirt off your leather gloves. At least they’ve improved your grip on the bokken, but you feel nervous knowing you'll eventually be handling a real weapon.

“I’ve never done this before,” you say, rising to your feet, legs weary from hours of being tossed to the ground. Despite Uraume’s fair appearance, they are surprisingly adept at laying you out on your ass.

"That doesn’t matter,” they reply, tilting their head slightly, unfazed by your frustration. "You need to learn how to defend yourself. That's what Master Sukuna desires."

What Sukuna desires…

Of course, that man seems to get whatever he desires. One simple glance from the four burning flames that are his eyes can make anyone crumble.

However, your mind drifts back to a month ago when you had accused him of never knowing the denial of something he truly wanted, and the way his expression darkened and his energy threatened to suffocate you made it clear he didn’t take too kindly to that. Still, you can’t help but wonder if he ever truly understands the weight of desire and denial. All he seems to know is taking and consuming.

“What’s his intention, exactly?” you ask, brushing off the dirt that smudges your crumpled hakama. “Why does he suddenly want me to learn to wield a weapon?”

The white-haired monk circles you.

“Sukuna values what’s useful, and trouble seems to follow you.”

They pause. 

You pause, considering.

If anything, trouble finds you because of your association with him, because you’re his wife. But you keep that thought to yourself.

"It’s what he wants," they repeat, as if expecting you to argue—though you don’t.

"All right," you murmur.

Uraume dips their head, shifting their dominant foot back and bending their knees.

"Now, my Lady." They raise one hand in preparation, the other holding the bokken. "Let’s try this again."

You swallow, nod, try again, and fail.

Try again.

Another failure.

And.

Again.

And, the next day, when the sun hasn’t yet crested the horizon, you’re already swinging the bokken like your miserable life depends on it. Uraume side steps on light feet, barely glancing your way as you lunge. You overextend—again—and find yourself face-first in the wet grass.

Great.

Day three, you’re starting to think Uraume enjoys watching you struggle. This time, when they parry your strike, it’s with minimal effort, turning your own momentum against you. At some point, the bokken slips from your grasp, and you tumble forward, catching yourself just before hitting the dirt.

Uraume’s mouth sinks into a frown.

“Don’t drop your weapon. It’s your lifeline. Without it, you have nothing—you’re dead.”

That’s not technically true, but you huff in response, rising to your feet to try again.

And again.

And again.

On day five, you manage to last a bit longer. The sparring is brutal; your muscles throb, and bruises mar every part of you. Uraume doesn’t even break a sweat, but for the first time, you notice they aren’t throwing you down immediately. Instead, they’re letting you hang on, testing your endurance and footwork. Nevertheless, by the end, you find yourself on your knees, panting.

“You’ll never survive if you waste your energy. Conserve your strength.”

Too winded to respond, you say nothing.

That evening, you prepare a bath and linger in it for hours, praying to whatever gods might exist to bring an end to this so-called ”training.”

However, by day seven, something falls into place—somewhat. Even when Uraume sweeps in to knock you off balance, you anticipate the move, sidestepping just in time. Their expression shifts slightly; an eyebrow attempts to rise as if they are nearly impressed. However, the satisfaction is brief because seconds later, they counter, sending you sprawling again.

And.

Again.

When a week passes, and it crawls into the second, you stop questioning why Sukuna requested this and begin to focus solely on surviving Uraume. The day you manage to stand toe-to-toe with them for more than a few seconds will feel like a goddamn miracle.

Eventually, the day before you’re set to leave for the Kasai compound, the routine is etched into your body: wake up before dawn, meet the white-haired monk, and brace yourself for another round of punishment disguised as training.

But that morning, as you step out of the shrine and plod toward the practice area, something feels different. A heaviness cloaks the air, like dark storm clouds burdened with rain. Perhaps it’s because today marks the first day of autumn, the surrounding forest is already decaying, and the skies are growing colder. Or maybe it’s the knowledge that in three days, you’ll be in Kasai territory, at your home, with Sukuna.

There are so many uncertainties that come with that.

As you finally reach the back of the shrine, your feet slow. You expect to see Uraume waiting for you, arms tucked inside their sleeves, pink eyes watchful.

But it’s not them waiting.

You still.

The King of Curses is there.

Leaning against one of the shrine's worn pillars, his massive frame occupies more space than it should. His four arms are folded casually across his chest, dark haori hanging open, revealing his kimono. When his strange eyes land on you, dragging slowly across your body, you can already feel your heart hammering into your ribcage.

"Wife." He stretches the title out in that mocking tone he seems to enjoy, shattering any self-respect you earned in his absence.

Pushing yourself to walk forward, you tip your head back in acknowledgment. 

"Husband." Composed, but your body tingles with every sense of his awareness.

He arches his slitted eyebrow.

"You seem surprised to see me," he rumbles, squinting his four eyes. "Did you think I’d leave all your training to Uraume?"

You say nothing, lifting a shoulder lightly.

His attention drops to the bokken you grip tightly in your leather glove. His teeth peek out from between a smirk, turning vicious as he stares at it.

The last time you saw him, you struck him across the face for insulting your sister, and you can’t shake the feeling that this look has something to do with that. The brute also narrowly confessed to hiding your letters, but you’re not ready to confront him further without slipping into rage.

Not yet, at least.

So, you simply step closer.

The moment you do, his lower hands retrieve a compact scabbard from inside his obi and toss it into the space between you. It lands with a dull thud on the worn patch of grass, which has become little more than dirt from countless footsteps.

You look at it, then to him.

"Well?” His upper lip twitches. There’s a hungry anticipation there. “Are you ready, or are you just going to stand there trembling with that—” Two massive pointed fingers wiggle at you. “—tiny piece of wood?" 

Fight… him?

There’s no way you can survive. Sparring with Uraume had been one thing—brutal, but manageable—but this? This is something else. Your grip tightens around the wooden weapon.

"Where’s Uraume?" Your voice cracks slightly, and you instantly hate how it sounds.

Sukuna pushes off the pillar, taking a step toward you.

You wet your lips.

"They’ve finished their part." His voice lowers. "Now, it's mine."

Shit.

Everyone has heard the tales and nightmares of the devastation the King of Curses leaves behind, not just in the north but far beyond. Yet none of those stories, however wild, can compare to the reality of being scrutinized by him now. You’ve witnessed his abilities while at the shrine and never imagined that engaging in combat with him would become a part of your reality.

You glance around for some sign of Uraume, but it’s clear—they aren’t coming. It’s just you and him. 

Keeping your eyes on the monster, you bend down, place the bokken on the ground and pick up the scabbard.

"Consider it yours." He nudges his chin toward your hands. Your vision jumps down to it.

It’s light. As you unsheathe the blade, you discover a tantō. Carefully, you draw it out.

While the weapon is plain, it’s well crafted, with a smooth metal surface that feels balanced in your hand. The grip is simple, solid, and designed for functionality rather than flair. There are no intricate designs, nothing gaudy—only a few small engravings on the hilt, mirroring the lines of his tattoos. You drag your thumb across them, tracing each mark.

Lovely.

Your mouth opens to say "thank you," but the words don’t come. He does not deserve them, not really.

"Well?" Sukuna smirks, rubbing his upper right hand across his jaw. "Are you ready?"

You swallow.

No.

"I..."

Do this for Yuna.

"... I’m ready."

I’m not ready.

"We’ll see about that," he says arrogantly, not looking away, sending panic into your mind, urging you to heed instinct and run.

But you don’t.

Slowly and with ease, he raises his upper hands and removes his haori, letting it fall to the ground. You watch as he pulls down the front panels of his kimono, allowing them to hang loosely at his obi and revealing his tattooed chest. The muscles along his torso flex slightly, the maw on his abdomen reduced to a mere slit against skin. His four corded arms extend outward, stretching before coming to rest at his sides.

Almost immediately, embarrassment heats into your face. You haven’t seen him like this in what—weeks? A little less than a month? And, you keep forgetting that in all your years, you’ve never encountered a more perfect body. You hate that about him. Worse still, he feels he doesn’t need a weapon against you; he is the weapon.

Pushing the empty scabbard into your obi, you raise your new blade, ignoring how your hand trembles at the hilt.

The King of Curses’ mouth pulls back into an aggressive sneer, teeth and canines flashing, feral and wild.

Oh.

You are so fucked.

Before you have time to blink, let alone breathe, he moves. And god, he’s impossibly fast—faster than Uraume, faster than anything you’ve seen.

You bite down on his name, suppressing a scream that gurgles up in a burst of panic as the flat of one of his hands—you're not sure which—slams into your breastbone. The blow rattles your insides. Unable to block it, you stagger back, lose your footing, and hit the ground hard.

The overcast sky blurs above you. You blink rapidly at it. Pain tightens your diaphragm from the impact, making it impossible to draw breath.

Oh god, oh god, oh god—

After three heartbeats, you drag in a ragged inhale and tilt your head to him.

Sukuna’s face darkens as he steps back as if needing to restrain himself from going further.

He paces, slows, then paces again. The muscles in his back ripple as his two sets of shoulders oscillate, bunching and releasing before bunching once more.

You fucking hate it when they do that.

“I’m holding back,” he states, circling you like a caged animal. “But, if you were like me—” He suddenly stops, and his mouth drops into a rigid line, his whole face becoming a mask of… nothingness. “—I wouldn’t.”

There’s a beat of silence.

You push yourself up and stare at him, breath stuttering.

If I were like you.

You are like him.

Fuck you are like him.

Beneath your gloves, everything stings to be unleashed. Yet, you have no desire to experience firsthand what it would be like to face him unrestrained. He would annihilate you—it's as simple as that.

Unsteady and dizzy, you get to your feet.

What would he do if he knew?—

There’s no time to think. He’s barreling down on you again. Bare feet crashing into the dirt, upper right arm extending, he delivers a blow to your shoulder, heavier than the last.

Hissing in pain, you step away.

Distance.

You need distance to study him, to figure out how to—

Another blow comes at you, but he pulls away at the last second, chuckling manically as he toys with you.

Bastard!

Desperate, you swing the tantō, attempting to create more space, but he effortlessly catches it with his lower left hand. Unfazed by the sharp edge, he yanks it from your grip, blood crawling away as he tosses it aside.

“Try harder, little snake!” he booms, his eyes flashing rabidly while healing the slit across his hand where he caught the blade.

Without your weapon, you’re defenseless, and Sukuna doesn’t relent.

He steps toward you, striking fast. Panicking, you turn, exposing your back. His blow lands squarely between your shoulder blades, sending you crashing to the ground. Soil fills your mouth as you gasp, reaching desperately for the blade. Your fingers barely graze the hilt before Sukuna kicks it away.

“Pathetic,” he spits, standing there looking bored—two arms crossed, the other two resting on his hips, watching, waiting. Even a pout models his lips. “It’s foolish to give your opponent your back. Now. Get up.”

Pathetic…

For a moment, you lie there, annoyed and inhaling deeply before forcing yourself up, every part of your body screaming, begging you to stay down.

“You’re going to—” Struggling to your feet, you can hardly catch your breath. “—kill me if you keep this up.”

Lifting your head, you see a fiendish grin spread across his face, the eyes on his mask nearly rolling back in some kind of pure, malicious ecstasy. Far from the reaction you’d hoped for.

He inclines his head more, crimson orbs peeking down on you.

“If I break you, I can simply heal you,” he coos dangerously. “Then, I can do it again and again.”

Your eyes narrow, and a tremor flickers across your cheek.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Heh, don’t look at me like that.” He lowers himself into a relaxed stance, clearly unimpressed yet no longer poised to attack.

“You're too predictable,” he tuts, tapping his temple. "Always going for the obvious moves. At this rate, you'll never get anywhere if you keep swinging where I can see it coming."

He must realize he’s not a typical opponent, right?

Rolling your shoulder from the previous hit, you wince and step away from him.

“So what? You want me to stab you somewhere unexpected?” you mutter, “what should I aim for? The softer parts?”

There’s double of them, after all.

His eyes thin, and he inhales.

“If you think I’d let you get that close, you’re even more naive than I thought.” There’s a pause. "But if you did, I might consider it worth my attention.”

You huff, wiping the sweat that slithers down your brow, and before you can react, he’s suddenly stepping forward.

You quickly step back.

But one, two, three steps—he closes the distance until he’s standing before you.

“Don't test your luck, wife.” He looks down at you. "If you want to survive, aim for what stops someone faster—the throat, the joints, under the ribs. Or, right—” his fingers press against the side of your neck, “—here. The carotid. You slip the blade in, then keep going. Otherwise, make use of what you have.” He grins. “I saw what you did to Sayuri. Use those little fingers, your teeth, anything you can."

You exhale, remembering the horrible feel of Sayuri's skin peeling back beneath your nails.

Sukuna presses harder against your neck, just shy of where he left that scar, his fingers firm on your pulse, feeling it jump under his touch. You want to shy away from it, but then, with a soft twitch of his mouth, he steps back.

Another exhale.

“So, not the softer parts?” you ask, moving across the grass to retrieve your blade.

All four of his eyes roll.

"Strike where it matters, and your opponent will be too busy bleeding out to retaliate. Strength doesn’t change that. The weak points remain the same for everyone."

During your first meeting, walking together in the forest, you searched for any weakness to exploit but found none. Now, even as you look at him, you’re still left wondering if he has any at all.

“Even for you?” you ask quietly.

He jerks his head to the side, eyes touching you with a challenging look. 

“You’d have to find mine first." 

Ah, so presumably, he does have a weakness. Curious.

“But I doubt you will ever uncover it,” he smirks, moving away again.

He turns.

“Now, again! And try to stay on your feet this time.”

You look at him, taking in every detail.

His arms—his size—they’re your biggest problems. Aiming for his upper body is useless; he’s too fast, too strong. But his legs, knees, ankles, and maybe the maw on his stomach are your only chances.

Veins hammering in your body, you nod.

“Okay.” Fingers tightening at the hilt of the blade, you take the proper stance.

His red eyes flare, wildfire licking at dry tinder.

“Come here, then, girl,” he provokes, lips tipping into a cruel smile, four arms stretching leisurely like a cat ready to play with a mouse.

The sensation from before returns—scuttling at your fingertips, an aching. You ignore it, and, without hesitation, surprisingly, you rush toward him.

But he doesn’t move. He just stands there. Waiting.

That should have been your first warning.

Heart thundering, you run, you don’t stop.

The ground scrapes underneath you as you drop to your knees, arm extended, blade aimed at his right ankle—the circling of black ink your target. 

Almost there.

Sukuna shifts.

He moves.

And before you can do anything. Before you can think. Before you can even strike. His massive leg pulls back and—

Snap!

It’s a horrible sound that rings into your ears.

Everything goes dark for a heartbeat.

The scream doesn’t come as you realize you’re on your back, staring up at the grey clouds overhead, your breath stolen away and your blade gone, scattered somewhere across the ground.

What just…

Cold shock rolls through your body, and your chest aches painfully as if a heavy stone rests upon it.

Something is wrong.

Your eyelids flutter as you push yourself into a sitting position, the world spinning.

Then the pain comes—a hot, searing wave coursing through your right arm and ligaments, followed by an icy numbness. With trembling fingers, you pull up the sleeve of your kimono and look down.

Vomit stings the back of your throat, thick and disgusting.

The angle. The bone. It’s protruding, bent through angry red, swollen skin. You blink. It’s all wrong. The arm hangs uselessly.

You try to envision that bottle—the one in your mind where you store all unwanted emotions—and attempt to shove this feeling inside. But your lip trembles, and your eyes trail up to Sukuna. He used the heel of his left foot, putting enough force behind it—and—

“Y-you’ve… broken my arm,” you whisper, hand falling to the ground, breathing suddenly becoming erratic—quick bursts in and out that you can’t quite control.

Breathe.

I can’t.

Your brow pinches in distress.

Breathe.

I can’t—

“You’ve broken my fucking arm!” The words escape in an ugly, sputtering hiss. Your glare, nothing but hatred.

The King of Curses’ jaw tightens, and he steps closer, crouching before you. Even then, he looms, casting a long, dark shadow. Tears sting your eyes, and instinctively, you look away—but he grabs your chin roughly, yanking it back and forcing you to meet his gaze.

Angry red orbs narrow.

“If you were anything like me, you would carry yourself with greater strength,” he growls into your face, a deep crease carving above his nose. “Yet here you are, fragile, yielding, so easily within my grasp.”

You flinch, growing nervous at those words, unsure why everything turns to hell so quickly whenever you’re with him.

You stare at him, and he stares back.

A huff expels from his chest. 

Tilting his head, he studies you for a heartbeat longer before sliding his fingers carelessly away from your chin.

“But you’re not,” he continues, voice growing low, quieter this time.

There’s pity there. But you don’t want it. He has no idea what you’re keeping hidden.

His upper left hand moves, sliding into the sleeve of your kimono. His fingers hover for a moment before curling around your disfigured arm, brushing gently against your skin. The contact burns, and you want to tug away, but you know he’s beginning to mend it.

Dammit, you’re tired of being told you’re weak, tired of needing his healing, tired of this twisted game where you’re broken only to be pieced back together.

A sharp crack sounds. You suck in a tight gasp.

Every misaligned shard of bone scrapes together with a grinding noise. You bite down while your arm spasms in his grasp, but he doesn’t let go. Each bone segment fuses with a jolt, just as metal is soldered. Muscles and skin knitting over them feel tight and raw.

Once healed, he leans closer to study your face.

“Next time someone hurts you, focus on your breath.” He drags his hand away from your arm, pressing it firmly against your stomach, just above your navel. Your abdomen clenches as he applies more pressure with his fingertips. “Let the pain come, and then let it go—without holding on to it.”

His hand pulls back. He pauses, taking you apart slowly.

“You cling to things too tightly.”

You look away, hating how those words hold truth.

There’s a silence—a silence for too long.

“Look at me,” he demands calmly.

With a slight incline of your head, you glance up at him through wet, curling lashes, which only seem to clump together the more you blink.

On the side of his demonic face, a muscle pulses.

A sudden war wages across his dual features. The jutting lower eye on his mask flickers down, taking you in and falling to your lips. He opens his mouth to say more, but the words never come. Instead, he rises to his full height and looks down at you.

“We’re done here.” Carefully, he pulls the panels of his kimono back into place before turning to retrieve his haori.

You watch him walk toward the shrine, his body heavy and beautifully agile.

You clench your jaw.

Fuck him.

Just before his looming figure disappears inside, he glances back over his shoulder at you, slumped on the ground.

“Be ready by dawn tomorrow. I’d hate to be late for your clan’s festival. Oh, and wife—” There’s a beat as he takes you in. “—remember, when we arrive, I want that name.”

* * * * *

“What is this?” 

Holding up the sleeve of a new, beautiful kimono spread across your futon, you turn to Ren, who is helping you pack for tomorrow’s ride north. The three-day journey will be trying, especially since you’ve learned Uraume won’t be joining you. It will just be you and the King of Curses—riding, eating meals, sleeping under the night sky. Together. Alone. An ache has been steadily building in your stomach; the thought feels far too intimate for your liking.

You’ll need to master every aspect of maintaining distance. However, avoiding someone like him is easier said than done.

Ren’s eyes lift briefly from the travelling trunk, then drop.

“Master Sukuna wants you to wear it for your clan’s festival, my Lady,” she says, attention returning to the cloak she’s folding.

You bite the inside of your cheek.

Of course, he does.

Looking down at the garment, your silk-gloved hand travels over the fabric.

The outer layer is a rich, muted purple, trimmed in dark charcoal, complementing the smooth black of the layer beneath. Wide, flowing sleeves are decorated with a scattering of embroidered wisteria flowers, the pattern gradually fading toward the hemline, where the thread deepens into a darker, bruising plum colour.

The inside of the sleeves catches your eye—a burnt umber shade that matches the maru obi, fully patterned on both sides with the same design. Soot-coloured gloves rest beside it. They aren’t silk but soft, buttery leather. You can only assume this choice is deliberate.

The garment is lovely, if somewhat unusual, for such an event. Its style and dark colours suggest a mourning aesthetic—an odd thing. However, you can’t deny that the monster possesses a strange sense of taste, even if you are well aware that this is merely another way for him to stake his claim over you.

“He’s going to match with me, isn’t he?” you call over your shoulder as you place the scabbard with the tantō blade sheathed next to the garment.

Ren is quiet for a moment before she responds.

“I’m not sure, my Lady, but it’s likely. Uraume is with him now, preparing what he needs.”

You huff and walk gingerly to the door, body still aching from the earlier beating. Although you spent a few hours soaking your muscles in a bath, you can still feel their stiffness.

Sliding open the door, you peer into the dim passage—a flame spills from behind the massive doors of his chambers. Your brow furrows at the thought of your clan seeing you dressed to match Sukuna. You did so at your wedding, but this will be in front of the entire Kasai clan.

Closing the door, you grumble wordlessly to yourself before rejoining your attendant. Her eyes lift briefly, then flicker away. Since that night in the stables when Sukuna threatened her and Uraume, she has been quiet. Quieter than usual, and this feels different.

"Is everything all right, Ren?" you ask, picking up the new kimono and rolling it tightly before packing it into the trunk.

"Yes, my Lady. I’m fine,” she says, while suddenly becoming very interested in the garment she’s folding.

Well, that’s a lie.

"Are you sure? You seem... distant lately."

She glances up.

"I’m fine, my Lady, truly," she urges.

You don’t believe her, but you aren’t about to dissect every mannerism and word she speaks.

"All right," you say, letting it slip into the background.

Once your trunk is sufficiently packed and dusk settles, you climb into the futon. The intention is to sleep, but rest eludes you. Your body hums with a terrible anticipation for the days ahead—the ride, the festival, your father—the daunting task of providing Sukuna with Onishi’s name. At least you’ll see Yuna again, though, for some reason, even that brings little comfort. You toss and turn throughout the night, and soon enough, morning arrives, with dawn shyly pushing through the narrow window, urging you to rise.

The shrine is still asleep as you slide open the door and slip out, dressed in your riding clothes. A warm cloak wraps around your shoulders, fending off the chill. Trunk in hand, leather gloves on, you make your way through the hollow corridors and out to the stables.

The cool, dull grey morning greets you, and for reasons you can’t quite explain, your pulse grows unsteady as you step inside.

The stables smell of hay and leather, with dust stirring in whatever light filters in.

At the sound of your entrance, a gaze of fire snaps up to meet yours. The King of Curses is already busy with his mount, adjusting the last of his saddle. Like you, he’s dressed for warmth. His dark kataginu parts over a charcoal kimono, with matching hakama beneath. His pink, spiky hair swept back in the style he favours. It practically glows against the dim fabric of his attire.

You cross the space and dip your chin.

"Good morning, my Lord," you say, forcing your mouth to twitch into something resembling an amicable smile.

He says nothing, directing his body away from you.

Asshole.

You fight the urge to scoff. After all, he deserves the unkind greeting after breaking your arm yesterday.

Instead, his four eyes drop, focusing on Uraume, whom you hadn’t noticed standing nearby. The two speak in hushed tones, their conversation too quiet for you to make out. The white-haired monk’s eyes dart back and forth while Sukuna’s brow wrinkles, the tension in his body growing tauter with each moment.

It gives you pause.

How is he already this agitated when the journey hasn’t even begun? This trip will be exhausting, and you won’t be surprised if one of you ends up killing the other by the end of it.

At least then, everything would be over.

Your fingers brush the scabbard tucked securely into your obi, and its feel brings a small measure of comfort. Coupled with your gift, it’s a reminder that you aren’t, for the most part, completely powerless.

Dragging your attention away from Sukuna, you make your way to Ayana’s stall.

The mare lets out a soft whicker to greet you, her dappled grey coat gleaming in the gentle light. You run your hand along her strong neck, and she nudges you affectionately. While she’s still skittish, her nervousness has lessened over the past two weeks as you’ve spent more time together. Working your fingers through her mane, you notice Ren stepping into the stables. She joins you, helping to fasten your trunk to the saddle while you focus on your mare’s bridle.

Once she is fully tacked, you mount her and guide her outside, where Sukuna is already waiting.

Sitting motionless atop his enormous horse, he rests two arms lightly on his thighs—one on the saddle and the other holding the reins.

He stares at you with a stern, guarded expression.

“Ready?” He raises his eyebrow in question.

Are you?

Saying nothing, you shift and glance back over your shoulder. Uraume and Ren stand at the entrance of the stables. You can’t quite read their faces, but something wavers there—a knowing of some kind. You give a brief nod, though an undercurrent of dread trembles through you.

There and back, and you’ll gain your extra month.

That’s all this is. 

Or there, and… neither of you returns.

You turn to the man who is your husband in name only. Not once does his crimson eyes leave yours. Not once does his expression change.

Briefly, you recall how you felt when you left the Kasai compound weeks ago, when your chest felt incredibly heavy, clutching the red jasper stone in your hand.

Not knowing what awaits is its own form of torture.

Sitting up in your saddle, you blink.

"Yes, my Lord." On an exhale, you look away from him. "I'm ready."

With your gloves gripping the reins, you nudge Ayana forward, cantering past Sukuna and onto the dirt-packed road, leaving the shrine and everything else behind.

* * * * *

🔗 Chapter 23

[1800titz]

could we hear a bit about harry and isla’s dynamic once they’re in a relationship? i feel like he would still be a dom even in an out of sex setting 🫣

OOOO yeah he’s definitely still dommy when they start seeing each other outside of Indulge, and I think he ends up being dommy even in an out of sex setting, too!! I feel like they end up going for more of a 24/7 type deal and the dom/sub sort of dynamic starts to leak into their everyday lives (I’ll be doing extras on patreon going into this more). But I think he does subtle things without even realizing at first like always having a hand on her when they’re out and about, or scolding her for opening the door instead of letting him do it, or giving her The Look if she’s doing something out of line ((Like one time they were eating out and she started throwing chips at him across the booth and then yk. The Look).

It’s like, they’re not innately dommy things, but they are. Eventually, their relationship sort of just evolved and they talked and talked and talked and figured out what worked for them!! 

When it comes to the 24/7 thing with rules, and punishments, and etc, a BDSM dynamic is infinitely flexible, so they end up finding what works for them over time, like I said. And they talk about EVERYTHING. Because safe, sane, and consensual(!!) 

There’s hard rules and there’s “bendy” rules — breaking “bendy” rules is an outlet for Isla to let Harry know she wants a certain type of attention, and “bendy” rules earn funishments that aren’t pre discussed, ie lighter spanking, more sexual forms of punishment like orgasm denial, overstimulation, etc. Harry is very mean dom but he’s also a huge brat tamer, so he’s got a ton patience as opposed to the type of dom that expects outright obedience, and Isla is a huge brat when it comes to subbing, so the “bendy” rules let them explore that more — they’re sort of expected to be broken, to an extent! For example, a “bendy” rule that Isla always seems to break has to do with her attitude/sarcastic tendencies. If Harry asks her to grab him a cup of coffee in the morning since she’s getting up out of bed before him to get her own, she comes back with two cups— a cup of coffee for herself and a cup of literal coffee beans for Harry. Trying to get a rise. Which results in Harry rolling his eyes and telling her she can go ahead and eat a coffee bean if she wants to be a brat (to which Isla incredulously squawks, “No!”) and he teases her about her saying no to him and spanks her a few times. ((Also he steals the coffee she brought in for herself, and then complains and gives it back with his nose crinkled because it’s too sweet.))

Hard rules are pre-negotiated rules in place that earn deliberate, unpleasant corrections that fit the infraction (that are also heavily pre discussed — I literally can’t emphasize enough that Isla and Harry always talk everything over and communicate). The rules are all stuff that Isla and Harry have both decided will improve something for Isla in some way, like self care rules, rules regarding punctuality, etc, and they’re always open to be edited or revised! For example, a hard rule that she has is put her shoes away when she gets home ((because she’s tripped over them 64838483948839493 times leaving them out in piles)) and if she doesn’t do it then there’s a punishment to follow that isn’t any fun, because it’s intended to alter a behavior. Since she didn’t focus on this tiny detail that would take literally a split second to do, she then has to write lines and spend much longer focusing on “arbitrary” details. So, she has to write 100 lines really neatly in a specific layout, and if she messes up on any of the lines she has to start over. 

Honestly, the worst “punishment” for Isla is being told that Harry is disappointed with her. Like. Ouch. And he only does it for the hard rules that she’s broken, when he really is disappointed. It’s pretty effective. Other super unpleasant punishments that Isla has (that they’ve both talked over and agreed upon) are cold showers, harder spanking sessions, being forced to stand in a corner for an allotted time period with no attention, etc. It’s all stuff that fits the crime and Harry gets pretty creative with it sometimes (like she’d been told 748848593943 times to clean up after herself if she was baking in the kitchen, and she doesn’t clean up for the 648839493th time, so he has her eat a crumbly food in the guest bedroom on the bed and has her sleep there, and the crumbs are super annoying because she can’t get them all the way off the bed — very creatively sadistic on Harry’s part). Which isn’t really sexy per say, but it’s more about the power exchange than a sex thing most of the time for them!! Although it does play into their sex lives!! 

This is super important — they also still have their safeword in place!! One to pause what’s going on and another to pause the dynamic altogether, and to just be Harry and Isla, whether it’s during an argument, etc. ((They don’t ever yell at each other. They just converse and disagree dhdjdj)).

Anyways, this might sound a little cuckoo for cocoa puffs, but they are super happy with each other!! Their dynamic is built on loads of trust and communication, and they are both really, really good to each other. Absolutely everything that they engage in is entirely consensual! This felt like a huge amalgam of dom/subby punishments but even with their 24/7 dynamic they are just chilling with each other and hanging out and being a normal couple 99% of the time :D

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I feel like Killer often had to act dumber than Nightmare around him. I just know that Nightmare is the kind of guy who wouldn't take kindly to not being the smartest person in the room at any given time. It mostly stems from his own childhood traumas (I'm sure that the fact that nothing he ever did was good enough to make him deserving of not getting abused stuck with him post corruption), but to me he's a walking inferiority complex.

And the thing is that Nightmare isn't stupid. He's a very studious person and he probably retains a lot of the stuff he reads about. But Killer is undoubtedly more observant and logical than he is. I feel like he probably picks up on stuff much quicker (even though he also probably forgets a lot of it just as quickly because of his memory issues).

And, well, I saw a couple of comics of them playing chess and Killer winning every time. And I do think that, realistically, if he played at full capacity every time, he would win against Nightmare. Chess is a game that rewards his kind of smarts so much more than Nightmare's.

But I also think he'd know not to win most of the time (unless his purpose is to piss off Nightmare that day). But, here's the kicker. I think it would be just as humiliating for Nightmare if Killer dominated the entire game only to make some very obviously porpuseful fumbles at the end. Of course, Nightmare could call him out on it, but then he'd need to admit that he would have lost had Killer not thrown the game. And he's not gonna fucking do that. Not when they both already know and Killer is staring unblinkingly at him, challenging him to say something, to admit defeat.

No, he's gonna take that fake victory and he's gonna massage his bruised ego with it. Denial is always a powerful shield.

Yeah absolutely. Killer knows how to stroke people’s egos and notice their insecurities, he will use both against someone for his own benefit. He knows he needs to walk a fine line with people like Nightmare and Chara—those that tend to have huge egos, that are also very fragile. Those whose first instincts are to lash out, and in Chara’s case, throw violent tantrums.

It’s like managing the moods of very explosive, highly dangerous bombs. It’s just that sometimes Killer can’t resist playing a little careless, in a calculated way. He is not above putting himself in huge danger and playing with his life just to gain momentarily pleasure in pissing them off, or to provoke them into hurting him just to alleviate his soul crushing apathy and boredom in controlled bursts.

Like micro-dosing on a drug that is pain, or simply because he knows (or thinks) it is inevitable that they will hurt him today, so he will provoke them earlier and take away their satisfaction in hurting him by taking away their control and bruising their egos.

Let Chara think he loves them. Let Nightmare think he’s stupid and blindly loyal. Those are the things he knows to maintain control over them. On the flip side, a way to keep Killer under control (particularly Stage 2), is to let him think he has more control than he actually does.

Imagine how powerless Nightmare could make him feel if he were to say, find a way to destroy any pleasure and satisfaction Killer gets out of pain. If he takes away the framing of torture, punishment, and pain as “fun” and “playing” in Killer’s mind.

I wouldn’t be suprised if Killer finds a sense of pride in his ability to not only endure but enjoy vast amounts of suffering—especially if he ever got some form of validation or approval for it. He views it as him still having power and control even as he is being “dominated”—because he can say that he enjoys it and therefore it means nothing and has no genuine impact on him beyond the satisfaction and pleasure.

People being unnerved and annoyed when you laugh in their face after they’ve broken your bones just means that Killer still has control over their emotions.

Yet another way he is views himself as sort of, above others. Not in the self loving ego stroking way, but still in a superior, ‘I’m above you, so don’t try me’ way. He’d likely look down on anyone who runs from or hates pain— or anyone who obviously lets it show. Viewing them as inferior and weak.

If Nightmare can take that away, then pain is just pain. Potentially sending Stage 2 deeper into his apathetic, nihilistic, fatalistic worldview—“just get it over with if you aren’t going to make it fun.”

Which is probably the reason why physical punishment wouldn’t work on Stage 2 at all—not until you can take away his sense of control in these situations—psychological stuff like isolation and sensory deprivation certainly would.

I feel like another way would be to greyrock him whenever he tries to provoke someone into violence and hurting him—not giving him the reaction he expects and craves. Which would either make him quickly lose interest, or motivate him to keep escalating until he gets what he wants.

Killer has definitely greyrocked Chara and Nightmare before as well— refusing to give them any type of satisfaction or control over him by not giving any response or reaction they want from him. And sometimes giving the exact opposite of a reaction or response that they want.

All in all, I can definitely see Killer underplaying himself and his own abilities to satisfy others egos and play into expectations if it benefits him or avoids inconvenience. And he’d definitely use their egos to lure them into little mind games and traps—like the one you described.

{ @stellocchia }

[ashestoashes7]

Thoughts about kevjean and kandrew dynamic ?

So, so many of them. thanks for asking, anon

With Kevin and Jean, they’ve almost grown up together. Jean taught him French, Jean taught him a whole mother ingrate shared between just the two of them. Neil was gone, Jean’s misplaced forever partner was out of his reach and there was no perfect court fill in to take his place, but Kevin was right there. So Jean taught him French, grew closer and closer to a partner who wasn’t quite his but was the closest there could be to someone for Jean to rely on. Promises and secret smiles and how could Jean not fall for someone as beautiful and perfect and flawed as Kevin Day? And even when Kevin was at Palmetto, he had Jean’s number. He called, and Jean answered. What Jean and Kevin shared was special and rare and born from sparks of kindness in a world that wouldn’t tolerate such tender inclinations. Kevin went out with Riko on their press appearances and elsewhere and in a million scattered places he found pieces of Jean in trinkets he saw along the way. Kevin’s affection was in secrets and French and pins and postcards. And Kevin cares enough for Jean to make sure he can get out when Renee brings him back, arranges for his transfer to USC because he believes that is where Jean can have the opportunity to thrive.

Now onto Kevin and Andrew <33

Kevin and Andrew came together when everything was wrong and twisted and falling apart around them. They looked at the ruins of the other—apathetic and grasping at thin air & lost and glancing at every shadow like the broken shards of his future would be taken from his bloody grasp—and sat there handing each other the pieces. Kevin was the first person to tell Andrew he was worth something, and Kevin trusts him. Kevin and Riko originally went to recruit him for the Ravens and perhaps when Andrew refused it wouldn’t have been as clean a breakaway if Kevin hadn’t intervened. A goalie like Andrew? They Ravens would have wanted him, and his denial wouldn’t have stopped them from getting him in black and red one way or another. But I think in TSC they mention that after they didn’t get Andrew Riko mocked Kevin for a while and I wonder if Kevin stepped hard enough on ‘he’s not worth it’ to keep Andrew from Evermore. And Kevin promises him something to build his life around when they seal their deal. It’s a heavy promise to make, especially considering Kevin’s prior promises, but he takes it because he looks at Andrew who practically the whole world has written off as some form of ‘not worth it’s and sees something worth fighting for even if one of his most difficult opponents will be Andrew himself. The first time Andrew smiled once he was off his medication was for Kevin. Kevin branded his progress across his cheek and Andrew actually smiled because Kevin needed to see it, that he was Kevin Day and this was Andrew Minyard who truly believed in him and the future they may yet live to create.

[suzyq31]

Just some casual pining

@jilymicrofics, this just makes the cut at 976 words!

January prompts used: Primal, Apprehensive, Etch

This lightly connects to a few of my other James/Lily stories. Unsure if I'll turn them into a series on archive. Essentially just these two being idiots in love and denial while at school. Also note, this line is very much stolen from When Harry Met Sally.

“What about if they’re attracted to each other?” she asked, apprehension in her tone, and when her eyes met his he nearly swallowed his own tongue.  “Er—” “Or as Sirius put it, that ‘the sex part gets in the way.’”

Thanks to @charmsandtealeaves for looking this over!

Story below the cut 😊

James squinted at the sunlight streaming through the bevelled glass, a light September breeze coming in. Lily had crossed the stone floor within minutes of entering the cramped office earlier, jimmying with the latch on the window, and pressing it open with her upper body, before smiling at him over her shoulder. 

He was already sweating, but his body had only grown warmer at the sight. A year into their friendship and he still wasn’t used to having her smile at him like that, like someone she was glad to see.

They’d quickly gotten to work, both of them still adjusting to their new roles. Lily with far more ease than him. She had a leg up, of course, having been a prefect since fifth year. James found himself playing catch up, learning the patrol schedules, the intricacies of the points systems, and the group dynamics that he was now in charge of. 

Dumbledore had made a good choice the past two years, if he’d had this kind of power earlier, he could only imagine how much more of a nightmare he would have been. He also doubted that Lily would have ever come around to not hating his guts if that were the case.

She was close enough that he could feel her warmth and breathe in the scent of her shampoo, something light and floral that he’d always found pleasing. All at once her green eyes were holding his, and it took him a full second to realise he’d been caught. He stared back down at his parchment, willing himself to think, “Maybe we should switch David and Juliet.”

“Why?”

He lifted his eyes to hers. “Rumour has it they’ve broken up.”

“Oh,” she said, delicate brows furrowing. “That’s too bad.” 

He scratched the back of his neck. “Should I switch them then?”

Lily looked past him, eyes fixed on a far-off point. He followed her gaze towards the fiery sky, the sun giving its best showcase before it would sink behind the green hills. 

“They were such good friends before.”

Her quiet declaration surprised him. 

“Yeah?”

She nodded absently, a hard to read expression etched on her features, voice hushed when she spoke.

“Do you remember what Sirius said?”

“Well, he says a lot of things.”

She rolled her eyes. “He said that men and women couldn’t really be proper friends. He said it about Marlene and Benjy, back in June.”

“Wouldn’t be the first dumb thing he’s said.”

Lily released a delicate little snort. “No…but do you think he’s right?”

“Er—no,” he said, palms suddenly sweating. “He was just taking the piss.”

Out of him. Not that he would add that part. He wiped his palms on his leg which had begun bouncing of its own accord. Lily simply looked at her notes. 

“What about if they’re attracted to each other?” she asked, apprehension in her tone, and when her eyes met his he nearly swallowed his own tongue. 

“Er—”

“Or as Sirius put it, that ‘the sex part gets in the way.’”

His lips parted but no sound came out. His stomach had flipped completely upside down, then rightside up, as if he’d attempted a Wronski Feint 

A smile pulled at her lips, green eyes dancing. Clearly joking, while he was acting like a demented goldfish. 

Finally he cleared his throat. “Depends.”

“On what?”

“I mean a lot of things. If it’s mutual, or one-sided…” He watched her closely and something in her expression shifted. “Are you talking about someone we know, Evans?”

Pink spread across her porcelain cheeks. He’d never outgrown his love of causing her to blush. A strange surge of confidence came to him as he leaned in. 

“So, purely hypothetical?” he added.

She sucked in her bottom lip, nodding. 

For a moment he felt suspended. Like he could tell her anything; like the fact that he was sure that he would always fancy her, even if she never felt the same way. Pathetic really, a truth he did his best to manage. Unwilling to jeopardise her hard-won friendship. 

He forced out a breath.  “I think you can be friends with someone you’re attracted to.”

She tilted her head, hair ablaze in the afternoon sunlight. “You think so?”

“I have it on good authority.”

Lily blinked at him. The pink hue on her face deepened and everything in him screamed to touch her cheek, to see if it was as soft as he imagined. 

His hand fisted where it rested on his leg. The desire burned through him. Being around her had always been like playing with fire; mesmerising, a primal instinct that only she brought out in him. She made the world brighter but with the potential for peril. His heart at risk. 

He stared down at her, the moment suspended. His fingers unclenching, their breathing syncing. He could imagine it so easily, closing the small gap between them, and brushing his lips against hers. 

A loud bang made them both startle, her body tensing before she relaxed back into her seat. The prefects began to trickle in. He was so flustered by the impulse he’d been close to giving into, that he’d nearly forgotten where they were or what they were even doing. 

Lily recovered quickly, standing and greeting the arriving students. He watched her take charge of the meeting. Graceful in her movement, the last bits of sun bathing her in gold. His heart beat erratically in his chest, body too hot in the crowded room. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank Sirius or hex him into next week. 

Then Lily turned back, a curious glint in her eyes that sparked him into motion. He took his place beside her, ignoring the gooseflesh that broke out when her arm brushed against his, pushing down how right it felt to be at her side.

[thecowboykatsuki-anon]

Blink

Word count: 866 Pairing: Bakugou x reader Genre: angst

As a Pro-hero, Bakugou prides himself on being strong, capable, a protector.

But even more than that, he prides himself on winning you over, his partner who had once declared very loudly that you were happier, safer when working alone.

It had taken him a while, but he’d taken the time to show you he could be someone you could rely on to have your back in the field, and your heart when you weren’t.

But right now? He feels utterly helpless.

Concrete slabs press down painfully on his chest from the building that came down on the two of you, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t move it. Smoke and dust fill his nose, make his eyes sting. It’s like his body has stopped listening, and all he can produce despite the sweat rolling down his face is a few pathetic sparks that singe his side where his hand is trapped.

You’re only a few inches out of his reach, his free hand stretching out for you, fingertips raw and bleeding from where he clawed at the ground in an effort to reach you. He can tell he has a few broken ribs too, his body screaming in protest every time he tries to stretch again, every time he tries to free himself and get to you.

He’s not sure if you’re even really recognizing him most of the time now, your breaths shallow and shaky. There’s concrete pressing down on you too, but what’s worse is the two thick bars of metal that you’d landed on when the villains had ripped the building from beneath your feet. 

He can see the torn fabric at the base of each rebar are soaked with red, the stains slowly spreading. He can’t help the irrational anger he feels at the sight, at the realization that they’ve ruined your pretty little hero suit. 

Your eyes fluttering shut once again has him calling out desperately to you, calling your name until they open once again, hardly focused as you try to stay awake.

A cough wracks your body, and he watches in denial as blood stains your mouth, those lips he loves to kiss, to nip at when you’re being mouthy. He’d give anything to hear you mouth off right now, to blame him for the predicament you’re in. 

But you’re silent, using all your energy to just stay alive at this point, and he knows it. So he fills the silence himself, makes you promises of a shiny engagement ring, whatever wedding you want, babies that look just like him. But you have to stay alive. For him. 

It’s selfish, he knows, to demand you keep fighting for him, but he feels utterly helpless- is utterly helpless as he watches you bleed all over the dirt, knows how heavily the concrete is weighing down on your battered body. He wishes he could go back to two hours ago, back to before you followed him in pursuit of the villains, too determined to catch them to wait for backup. He’d assured you the two of you could do it, that it would be a piece of cake, back to the moment you’d laughed and bet him you could catch both the criminals before he can.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying at first, too focused on the soft smile that graces over your lips as he continues to ramble about the life he’s gonna give you, until your gaze shifts to look at him, a moment of clarity as that smile withers. 

“Katsuki, this isn’t your fault.” you murmur weakly, always able to read his mind (his heart), even when he doesn’t want you to. Your voice is soft, shaky, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment to collect himself, stop that sob that’s crawling it’s way from his chest.

When he opens them again, you’re staring right through him. 

Panic fills him as he zeroes in on your chest, for the tell-tale rise that tells him you’re still breathing. 

It never comes. 

Your name slips from his lips in a hushed whisper, eyes blurring with the onslaught of fresh tears as his calls become louder. Desperation overtakes him and he lets loose an explosion that burns a fresh hole into his side, the concrete above him crumpling from the heat but not letting up enough for him to reach you. 

He’s screaming your name now, frantically trying to claw his way to you, a stream of curses and pleas bouncing off the dirt and rubble around the two of you. 

By the time the rescue team finds the two of you, his side is blackened from his quirk, skin burnt and angry from the persistent heat, and his voice is gone, barely a whisper as he continues to call for you. 

A call that’s never answered.

Kirishima’s one of the first to find the two of you, and a year later, he tearfully admits to Bakugou he thought he’d lost you both when he pulled his friend from the rubble. That it had seemed that all life had left the blonde’s eyes, despite the fact that his pulse was still strong. 

Katsuki doesn’t have the heart to tell him he wishes he had died with you that day.