#head of mars by unknown: mars | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fxstpace · 6 days ago

Text

oh, snap!

summary. you and jake sim might have been best friends once upon a time, but not anymore. now, you barely talk to each other—so you decide to prove the universe wrong when you find out that he’s your soulmate, because there’s no way both of you are compatible.

pairing. jake sim x fem!reader genres. fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers!au, soulmate!au, college!au word count. 7.0k

↳ warnings. profanity, alcohol consumption, sexual jokes, soulmate lore i made up ↳ a/n. this is a fic i had posted on my now deactivated blog, which i’ve made minor modifications to. thanks for reading!

The universe has to be fucking with you.

You aren’t one to believe in manifestation or the law of attraction or whatever other nonsense your TikTok feed provides you with. You think it’s a total waste of time, energy, and resources.

Right now, however, you’re manifesting with all your might—eyes screwed tightly shut, hands clasped in front of your chest, only one thought running through your head: Please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be Jake Sim, please don’t let it be—

You open one eye cautiously. You lift up the pinkie finger of your right hand equally carefully.

Fuck.

You drop your hands and let your head fall onto the desk in front of you. A dull thud echoes around you, and normally, you would be apologetic since you’re at the library, but because you’re wallowing in self-pity you can’t bring yourself to care. A frown mars your forehead. Maybe you’re manifesting wrong. Is that even a thing? Perhaps you should ask your friend Yizhou how to do it; she’s pretty popular on Instagram so surely she’d have some idea. Maybe one of her fellow influencer friends is a manifester. (Is that what they call it?)

You lift your head up and stare morosely at the red thread twined around your little finger. It winds down the floor, swirling and looping in gentle curves. You glare at the person it’s connected to.

Jake Sim, that little piece of shit.

The object of your disdain is seated one table away from yours. He’s hunched over his laptop, occasionally scribbling something into the messy notebook in front of him. His glasses keep slipping down the bridge of his nose, and every time he pushes them back up, you feel a tug on your finger.

This brings you to the following question: Does he not know you’re his soulmate?

You have three answers. One: He knows, but he doesn’t care. Two: He doesn’t know. Three: He doesn’t care.

The second option is rare but not unheard of. There have been several cases where people vehemently deny the existence of soulmates and refuse to believe in it. Such people never get to see the red thread that is wrapped around their finger, even though it exists. Truthfully, you feel bad for the people on the other side of the thread—the non-believer’s alleged soulmate. They will forever watch from afar, never going too close, but never straying away either. It sounds lonely, more than anything else.

You push that thought away. If Jake doesn’t know, it should be a good thing, right? You don’t need a soulmate to survive. You can just continue with your life as it is—attending classes, hanging out with your friends… Yeah, you’re happy with everything you have.

Another tug at your pinkie forces out an annoyed huff from your mouth. You glare at the perpetrator, still engrossed in his work. To be fair, you didn’t know Jake was your soulmate until very recently either. You knew the thread existed but didn’t know who it was connected to. When you were younger, you and your friends would have tons of fun pulling at the thread to annoy your unknown soulmate. Getting a pull back was a source of glee for seven-year-old you. Now, it just fills you with dread.

“Oi.” Someone’s breath tickles your ear.

“Fucking hell!”

You swat at your best friend’s face, successfully smacking his cheek. Taehyun grunts in pain. “Uncalled for.”

“What the fuck, Taehyun?” You grouse. “Don’t scare me like that. Sorry ‘bout your cheek.”

The boy rolls his eyes, sitting down on the chair next to you and dumping his tote bag on the table. “I’d feel better if you actually meant your apology. Also, why aren’t you studying? Our midterms start in a week and staring at Lover Boy isn’t gonna help you pass your classes.”

“Don’t call him that,” you snap. “And I was… studying.”

“Right. That’s exactly why none of your books are open.”

“Shut up, people are staring.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows but doesn’t comment. You’re not wrong—people are staring. Well, specifically, one person. You flex your little finger a little, straightening it out and then bending it again. If Jake feels any sort of yank, he doesn’t show it. Not that you’re interested, of course. You’re just… observing. So is he, clearly. He peers over his glasses at you both, his expression not betraying anything.

You flinch when Taehyun pinches your side. Turning back to him, you’re ready to yell at him for being an annoying asshole, when he fixes you with a pitying sort of look. You swallow.

“Hey,” he says softly, “don’t overthink, okay? He’s alone right now, you might as well talk to him about this.”

You blink uneasily, eyes flitting between your friend and the unopened book in front of you.

“How long are you gonna avoid him? You’ve been hiding this for months. And… he has a right to know,” Taehyun finishes, flicking a strand of hair out of his eyes.

You swallow again, around the lump in your throat that’s been sitting there for months. You found out that Jake was your soulmate months ago. Yet, you can’t seem to bring yourself to confront him or tell him about it. A far cry from the whole entire concept of soulmates—isn’t he supposed to be your missing puzzle piece? Certainly not, if you’re too nervous to even approach him. The universe must have made a mistake. Whatever higher being exists must have assigned you to the wrong person.

Taehyun is right, though. (You’re not going to admit it to him, of course; there’s no need to boost his already inflated ego.)

Jake Sim does have a right to know that he’s your soulmate.

You shift uncomfortably. Taehyun drops his gaze with a sigh. “I know you two have a history but can’t you just sort this out?”

“I… can’t,” you say lamely.

Your best friend looks sadly at you. You look away, fidgeting with the cover of your textbook. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a girl make her way to Jake’s table. He perks up immediately, greeting her with a soft smile. She sits down next to him and grabs Jake’s laptop, angling it towards her like it’s second nature. It probably is, you think bitterly.

Another reason why you can’t tell Jake Sim about this whole Situation: He has a girlfriend.

Park Chaerin meets your eyes and waves at you cheerfully. You wave back, feeling sick to your stomach.

You press the tip of your pen into your notebook, fighting the urge to close your eyes. Even the half-empty cup of coffee next to your laptop has done little to wake you up. Morning classes are the bane of your existence, and as a night owl, you vehemently dislike getting up early. Your professor rattles on about an assignment due in a week. You stifle another yawn behind your hand.

Feeling a yank on your little finger, you press the palm of your hand on the desk and ignore it. Jake Sim is sitting right next to you—courtesy of both of you having arrived five minutes late, and the only seats left were in the last row. Your Friday 8 AM lecture on the Quantum Theory of Electromagnetism is normally interesting, but Professor Jang makes even the most stimulating topics seem dry. You usually end up resorting to self-study sessions in order to understand everything.

Jake is scribbling something next to you. He’s probably doodling. He used to do that a lot when he was little, too. You recall pages upon pages of maths notes interspersed with tiny drawings of dinosaurs and dragons in the margins. They had made you laugh at the time.

“Hey,” he whispers.

You blink.

“Hi,” you say.

Jake grins at you—and you’re dazzled, for a moment. It’s been so long since you’ve had that smile of his being directed at you. You’ve seen him smile at other people on campus—his new friends, his girlfriend, acquaintances—all from afar, and you push down the bitter sting of rejection that pricks you every time. After so many months, it feels like you were in a pitch-black room all this time, and someone suddenly turned on the lights. It’s blinding.

Your former friend caps his pen and leans back in his chair. “Did you get enough sleep?”

“Um, yeah,” you answer. Just to be polite, you add, “...Did you?”

“Kind of.” Jake winces.

“Oh.”

“I was trying to understand the topic before this. Y’know—” he meets your eyes expectantly— “the whole Kronig-Penney model and the Bloch function and all that. I spent, like, two hours on them,” he says sheepishly.

“Oh, uh, yeah, those are kinda difficult,” you offer.

You’re still perplexed by this whole situation. Admittedly, after weeks of minimal contact with your childhood best friend, this isn’t how you imagined your reunion would go. All awkwardness aside, however, it feels… nice, talking to him again. It’s hard to move past the last few months, but there’s nothing wrong with this, right? You can think of it as two classmates bonding over a hard course they willingly chose. Two classmates who’ve known each other since they were toddlers just learning to walk, but you deliberately don’t think of that.

Jake hums. “The graphs get super confusing.”

“I guess,” you say.

He leans forward abruptly, elbows knocking on the edge of the desk. His stare on you is intent, focused. “Is your number still the same?”

You gape at him, mouth open like a blown-out fish. “Uh… yeah. Why?”

“So I can text you if I don’t understand anything,” Jake says simply, easily, still sporting that same easygoing smile of his. Your stomach twists into knots, and you force yourself to appear calm and not like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I think you should’ve asked me first,” you manage to say.

He looks at you strangely, a dip in his eyebrows. “Why would I do that?”

Why, indeed.

Jake has known you for years; this is an undeniable fact. Even now, he probably knows you better than anyone else does—or ever could. So there’s absolutely no way he can’t make sense of the stifling awkwardness that surrounds you both.

However, the same holds true for you: You know Jake Sim just as well as he knows you. You know he’s trying to bridge a gap, make amends in a way only he does. You would be a fool if you didn’t take it in stride.

You crack a small smile. “Fair enough.”

He picks up his pen and twirls it between his fingers idly, before saying, “I’ll text you about other stuff, too.”

“Okay.”

“Great.”

Jake is all smiles and sunshine. He starts doodling again—what looks like a misshapen traffic cone of some sort. You look away, and tuck this little slice of goldenness into your rapidly rabbiting heart.

This is not good. You pay no heed to the thread around your little finger, and pick up your own pen. Angling your notebook away from your deskmate, you begin to write.

REASONS WHY JAKE SIM CANNOT BE MY SOULMATE FUCK THIS SHIT IM OUT

#1. he doesn’t know you as well as he should (okay, maybe he does)

You have no clue how you ended up studying with Jake Sim and Park Chaerin, of all people.

Your own friends, Kang Taehyun and Kim Gaeul are utterly nonplussed at this new situation. You give them a helpless shrug when they elbow each other and raise their eyebrows at you. The library is fairly empty at this hour, which makes it an ideal time to study without the distractions of other people. Of course, you didn’t consider the two people who’ve decided you’re a physics expert and require your guidance.

You humour them because you’re a nice person—not because you’re weak to Jake’s entreaties and his offer of buying you food for a whole week.

Chaerin smiles at your friends. “Hey, guys! Come join us.”

Taehyun is the first to blink out of his confusion. He moves forward, pulling out the chair opposite yours and settling down. “Thanks. We won’t bother you guys much.”

Gaeul nods her head. “Yeah, I have a bunch of assignments to finish.” She chuckles nervously, smoothing out her hair.

“No problem,” Jake supplies. “Your friend is super smart.”

Taehyun raises his eyebrows, pointing an incredulous finger at you. “You mean…?”

“Hey!” You swing your leg and kick Taehyun’s shin from under the table. He winces in pain. Gaeul giggles, and so does Chaerin. Jake lets out an amused snort.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” you say, “this bit isn’t that important from a test point of view, so just go over it to get the general idea.” You mark the paragraph you were referring to with a pencil.

Chaerin and Jake nod in tandem, like a pair of bobbleheads. You bite your lip to stifle your smile—they’re so perfect together, it’s ridiculous. You wouldn’t be surprised if Jake’s end of the string was connected to Chaerin’s instead. Is that even possible? You’ll have to google it up.

The thought puts a significant damper on your mood, and you turn away, drawing back from the pair sitting next to you.

Instead, you lock eyes with Taehyun, who’s glaring at you with enough intensity to drill a hole through your forehead. Talk to him, he mouths. You give him a small shake of your head.

You can’t talk to him about anything serious. Explaining physics to him and his girlfriend in the presence of your own best friends is a sort of safe zone; you don’t have to discuss anything personal whatsoever. All you have to do is prattle off a list of formulae and derivations and graphs, and hope that what you’re telling them to study is actually going to be asked on your midterm next week.

Taehyun rolls his eyes so hard, you wonder how they haven’t popped out of their sockets. He’s exasperated, you can tell—and Gaeul has probably been receiving the brunt of it all, because he would never outrightly say he’s upset with you. He would rant to Gaeul instead, trusting that she would tell you everything he told her but more nicely. That’s how your little trio circles back to each other.

You shift uncomfortably. Gaeul catches your eye and gives you a small, sympathetic smile. Your lips twitch upwards slightly.

“Wow,” Chaerin says, “I can’t believe we finished a whole unit in, like, one and a half hours.” She directs the next part to you. “You’re really smart. Don’t listen to Taehyun.”

“Y/N doesn’t listen to me anyway,” your friend grumbles. Gaeul hides her snort behind her styrofoam cup of coffee.

Speaking of which, you could really use some caffeine too. Anything to get away from Jake Sim and his quiet, knowing… aura, is the word you settle for. He wasn’t always this quiet—he used to be loud and raucous when it was just the two of you in high school—so while this new development isn’t surprising, it certainly is jarring.

“I’m going to get some coffee,” you announce to the table at large. “Anyone wanna come with?”

“I’ll come,” Jake says immediately. “I owe you for teaching us.”

“Oh, um.” You attempt to smile. “I—”

“Please go,” Taehyun says suddenly, his tone beseeching. “I need coffee too but I don’t trust Y/N to not put salt in mine or something.”

You gape at him, betrayal flooding your features. Gaeul snorts again. Chaerin just looks at you and Jake alternately. Jake’s lips twitch upwards. “Y/N still does that?”

You whirl around to face him. “What?”

“Oh, this is getting interesting,” Gaeul pipes up. “Do elaborate.”

“I second that,” Chaerin adds.

You feel your cheeks and the back of your neck heat up. You want to implore your former best friend to keep his pretty mouth shut, but your ego doesn’t let you grovel in front of three other people. Jake raises his eyebrows, lips parting to form a small ‘o’. He smiles, a little bit sheepish. Before he can say anything, you intervene.

“That was one time, Taehyun!” you snap. “And it was by accident. Why would I willingly put salt in your coffee?”

Taehyun raises an eyebrow at you, but inside, you know he’s laughing uncontrollably at your predicament. “Who knows? You might wanna poison me for being cooler than you.”

“What is this, high school? And why the fuck would I want a murder on my hands? I’m too young to go to jail.”

Chaerin tries to muffle her giggles with her hand. Both you and Taehyun turn simultaneously to look at her. “Sorry.” She giggles again. “You two talk like an old married couple.”

“Gross,” you say, at the same time Taehyun draws out an, “Ew,” and extends the last syllable like a child in kindergarten.

“Oh my God,” Gaeul says. “Chaerin, you’re a genius. I see it too.”

“Not you too,” Taehyun groans.

The two begin bickering again, and Chaerin joins them with enthusiasm, adding her own little tidbits of support for Gaeul in between the conversation. During all this, Jake remains remarkably quiet, an amused smile tugging on his lips.

You turn to him, a rush of sudden embarrassment making your cheeks heat up. It occurs to you that he’s never seen you like this—laughing and joking around with your friends. Friends that don’t include him. “Sorry,” you mumble. “Let’s go get coffee.”

“Okay.”

You and Jake push your chairs back under the table and exit the library. The coffee shop is two storeys down, so you make a beeline for the staircase. Your former best friend follows you, his undone shoelaces slapping on the tiles. He still doesn’t tie his shoelaces properly, then. Perhaps he hasn’t changed as much as you thought.

“Hey, by the way,” he says, “I was gonna tell Taehyun about the time I put salt in your coffee.”

“...I know.” Your answer is short, clipped. You force your shoulders to relax—there’s no need to tense up when Jake Sim is around.

“Oh. Uh, okay then.”

You don’t look at him, but you’re fairly certain he’s doing that thing he always does when he’s feeling awkward: A little rub of his thumb against the corner of his mouth. It’s a tic he’s always had, from the time you were in elementary school, and it isn’t any different now.

A stifling silence falls upon you both. You almost wish Taehyun and Gaeul were here, bringing Chaerin with them in tow. The three of them seemed to get along well; the chances of the five of you hanging out outside of college are high, now.

Of course, that also means you and Jake will have to pretend like everything’s alright between you both, and that your decades-long friendship wasn’t shattered by one single argument.

You round the corner to the staircase and begin the descent downwards. Jake holds onto the railing on the other side. Despite everything, you think Jake is the braver one between you two.

He breaks the silence as easily as he broke your heart, and asks:

“Do you still take your macchiato with two packets of sugar?”

“Yeah,” you say softly.

#2. he wants to be friends again (why?)

You blame Kang Taehyun for this.

Of course he had to forget to pick up the pizza from the local restaurant before coming back to his place. Of course he didn’t check the weather forecast beforehand, and even if he did, of course he didn’t tell you it was going to rain. Of fucking course he asks you to pick up the food for him because your classes only ended at 4 and the get-together to celebrate the end of midterms was at 4:30.

If you had the power, you would curse your best friend to oblivion. You grip your phone in your hand, gritting your teeth and staring down at the screen.

Group Chat: the holy trinity of dumbasses 🤡 [16:12] You: it’s fukcing pouring here and i didnt bring my car [16:12] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): *Fucking [16:13] You: yeah it’s something you’ve never done before [16:13] You: i have the pizza [16:13] You: come and pick me up or im throwing it in the dustbin. [16:14] gaeul 🤍: u shouldn’t waste food y/n >:( [16:14] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): You’re making Gaeul cry >:( [16:14] gaeul 🤍: girl what [16:15] You: aw cute [16:15] You: seriously tho [16:16] You: come pick me up [16:17] taehyun (mega asshole 🤬): OK, I’m on my way [16:17] You: FUCKING FINALLY

The plastic bag with all the pizza boxes dangles off your wrist, cutting into your skin. The steps that lead to the inside of the restaurant are slick with rainwater. You open Instagram and scroll through your feed mindlessly, clicking on your classmates’ stories.

You shiver. Rainy weather always makes the temperature drop by several degrees, and your flimsy jacket isn’t enough to drive away the chill. Forget Taehyun, maybe you should’ve checked the forecast instead. Sometimes (read: most of the time) you can be just as stupid as him. You wonder how Gaeul puts up with the single brain cell you and Taehyun toss between each other like a hot potato.

Honestly, you just want to go somewhere where it’s dry and warm.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, and it takes you a whole minute to comprehend the name that shows up on the caller ID.

Jake Sim.

Why is Jake Sim calling you?

You chew on your lip nervously before swiping your thumb up and accepting his call. Bringing your phone to your ear, you let the plastic bag sway gently. The line is silent for a few seconds, as though neither of you can comprehend the fact that you’re on a call with each other. It makes sense; this is the first time in months he’s calling you.

Finally, Jake’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I’m outside. Can you see me?”

“I, uh.” You look around quickly. The parking lot in front of you is mostly empty, a good chunk of people having escaped the rain. It’s not hard to make out the solitary figure standing outside a beaten-down Toyota, holding an umbrella aloft. “Yeah, I see you.”

“Oh, good,” he says. “Do you have an umbrella?”

“Nope. Just… pizza.”

Jake makes a noise that sounds like a warbled chuckle. “Okay, I’m coming over there.”

“...Okay.”

For some strange reason, you don’t feel like ending the call. You fumble for something to say, because it’s weird just being on a call with someone you can literally see. The tug on your little finger as he comes closer to you makes a lump form in your throat. You take a deep breath and push it down into your stomach.

“You haven’t changed your car,” you say lightly.

Jake hums, the sound so familiar it doesn’t even surprise you until you register it. “Can’t afford a new one. Plus, it works decently.”

He strides over to you, and it’s unnecessarily sexy—the way he holds the black umbrella up with one hand and his phone to his ear with the other. You can see the speckles of rain on his grey hoodie where the raindrops bounce off the ends of the umbrella. His hair is swept to the side, lips pink with chapstick. Another yank on your pinkie finger; you clench your fist.

“Please,” you snort. “The last time I was in it, it took twenty minutes to start the engine. That was a year ago, Jake.”

He’s closer now, nearing the steps. His eyes don’t leave yours. They trace over all your features, as though he’s committing you to memory—you, with your tangled hair and tired eye bags, chapped lips and dirty sneakers. You swallow.

He puts his phone down and speaks to you directly. “I think that was the driver’s fault. But don’t worry, I can drive better now.”

You let your hand drop limply to your side.

“Hi,” Jake says.

“Hi again,” you manage to say.

“Here, let me take that.” He reaches out for the pizza bag, but you don’t give it to him.

“It’s fine. Just… hold up the umbrella and don’t get us wet.”

Jake laughs, a short, bright sound. “I won’t.”

You step towards him, quickly slipping underneath the shelter of the umbrella above your head. It’s a tight fit—one of your shoulders pokes out, as does one of his. You grimace when your sleeve gets splattered with rain.

Jake leads the way to his ancient car, scratched and scuffed with years of use. It was his dad’s old one, a gift for him on his seventeenth birthday, one that his mom had told you about to surprise him with. It seems like a bygone history now.

“I thought Taehyun was gonna come,” you comment.

Jake looks at you strangely. “I thought you asked for me to come pick you up.”

“I… did?” You gasp at the realisation. Kang Taehyun, that fucker. “I’m sorry,” you say awkwardly. “Taehyun probably told you that I was stuck in the rain.”

“He did,” Jake confirms. “Don’t worry ‘bout it. It’s not a problem at all.”

“Oh… okay, then.” Still, you feel guilty. Jake came all the way in the rain just because your best friend couldn’t stop being a meddling little nincompoop.

“Why wouldn’t I come?” Jake continues. His voice sounds deliberately casual. “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“...Yeah. I guess.”

Jake stops near his car, fishing around in his pocket for the keys. “Look, I—I know things haven’t been the same lately, but I—” he licks his lips, another nervous tic of his— “I want you to know that I never stopped thinking of you as my best friend. Okay?”

You blink, sucking in a breath sharply. “I, um, yeah. Yeah, okay,” you say lamely.

Jake nods once, not meeting your eyes. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’ve found friends like Gaeul and Taehyun. They’re good people.”

“So is Chaerin,” you say. “And so is Sunghoon.”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling faintly, unlocking the door. “And so are you.”

Sometimes, you wonder if Jake also feels a pull on his little finger. If he does, does he ever wonder where it’s from? Or does he not feel it at all? You bend your finger and shuffle into the passenger side of his car. He closes the door for you before crossing over to the other side and climbing into the driver’s seat.

Whatever the case is, one thing is for sure: Jake Sim is your soulmate, and even if he wasn’t, you’d still be in love with him.

Just like you were one year ago.

#3. his parents adore you (and so do you, but there’s always the yearning and the aching)

“Hey, mom and dad are asking when you’re gonna visit again.”

Jake swings into your periphery, putting his phone back in his pocket. His mom had called about fifteen minutes ago to make plans for Jake to go home over the weekend. Potentially, you could also go—your childhood home is right next to his. It’s been a while since you last visited; your little sister sends you texts about how much she misses you.

He sits down on the chair next to yours, looking at you expectantly. You’re at your favourite spot in the library, one that’s been designated as you and your friends’ table. Jake and Chaerin have been officially integrated into your tiny trio; Gaeul and Chaerin get along really well, and Taehyun and Jake follow the same sports teams. Occasionally, their other friend, Park Sunghoon, joins you but he’s very quiet and mostly keeps to himself.

You don’t look up from your laptop screen when you answer, “I’m not sure.”

“Huh. Mom says you’ve said that to your mom every time she asks.”

Things between you and Jake have reached a semblance of normalcy, too. It’s not the same as it used to be—it can never be the same as it used to be—but at least the pang you feel in your chest whenever he talks to you has dulled somewhat.

“I’ve been busy,” you say vaguely.

“Oh, c’mon,” Jake retorts. “Our midterms were over a week ago. What’re you waiting for?”

You don’t reply. He waits for a moment before saying, “I could drive you.”

That gets your full attention. Your gaze snaps to him, mouth pressed together.

“I mean, we literally live right next to each other, Y/N,” he continues. “It’ll save gas. And the environment.”

You snort. “Your car is more of a hazard to the environment than us not carpooling is.”

“You don’t know how to drive,” he deadpans.

“That’s not true! I can drive, I just choose not to. Saving the environment and all.” You point an accusing finger at him. “If you really care about the environment, you should take the bus home with me.”

Jake shrugs loosely. “I don’t care how we go home, as long as you come with me. I’m sure your sister misses you too.”

There it is again: That easy, light way he says things. Nonchalant and unaffected—though it affects you more than it should.

“You’ll pay for the tickets?”

Jake’s grin is golden. “If that’s what it takes.”

That’s how you find yourself crammed in between Jake Sim and an old auntie with a flower-patterned bandana, on the bus back to your hometown three days later. The auntie gives you and Jake a few cookies she’d packed for her grandchildren, and then promptly falls asleep on your shoulder (Jake couldn’t stop laughing for ten minutes when he saw the line of drool she’d left on your shirt sleeve). He offers you his own shoulder in case you want to sleep too; your cheeks heat up at the thought. It’s a bumpy ride, but after stopping at the bus stop nearest to your house, Flower Auntie sends you off with a few more cookies and a box of homemade kimchi, and you and Jake begin walking back to your neighbourhood.

Some things have changed—the playground is being renovated, your old elementary school is being repainted, the Kims who owned the local ramen shop retired and set the place up for rent. But at its heart, it’s all the same, you think. Kids still run around holding warm bungeoppang from street stalls and cartons of strawberry milk from the convenience store. Their mothers sit around and gossip about celebrities and complain about their husbands. People working corporate jobs curse under their breaths about their bosses and their unforgiving schedules. It’s late in the evening when you arrive, a bag containing all of Flower Auntie’s goodies hanging off Jake’s arm. All the local eateries are opening up for the dinner rush, drawing people in with the offer of free beer and soju for every meal purchased.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Jake says, a fond smile on his lips.

“Yeah,” you agree softly.

Despite everything, it’s still home.

The two of you cross the streets to your houses, sneakers slapping against the pavement. Several neighbours who’ve seen you both grow up call out and wave hello. You’re stopped by Mrs. Lee’s son, Heeseung, who makes you both promise to go out for dinner with him tomorrow.

Finally, you stand in front of your childhood home. The rusted door and peeling-off paint greets you like a best friend. You shoulder your backpack and ring the doorbell, saying goodbye to Jake as he walks into his own house.

The door swings open—only to reveal Mrs. Sim standing at your doorway. Before you can voice your confusion, she pulls you into a tight hug, mumbling your name into your hair.

“Welcome home,” she says, moving aside and letting you in. “Your mother is in the kitchen. She’s just started making dinner.”

“Oh, okay.” You grin. “It’s great to see you, Mrs. Sim.”

“I swear you love Y/N more than me.”

You turn around and see Jake standing by the door, an affectionate look in his eyes. You direct your grin at him, too.

“Suck it up, loser.”

Jake’s guffaw rings in your ears even when your sister screams with unabashed joy as soon as she sees you.

#4. he broke your heart once (he could do it again)

You stare at the red thread wrapped around your finger. It’s dulled a bit now, compared to how it was a few years ago. Some of its shine is lost; it looks more opaque now. You crook your finger experimentally, knowing it's futile but still holding on to some hope that maybe Jake will feel it too.

To live for the hope of it all, as a wise song-writer once penned.

You startle when Jake sets a mug of coffee in front of you. His house is empty—your mother and Mrs. Sim went to buy groceries together and his father is out of the city on a business trip. Your sister is hanging out with her friends but told you to call her if you needed anything.

“Here you go,” Jake says, sitting down on the chair next to you. “Have some and then we can go buy some hangover soup.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, curling your fingers around the mug and savouring its warmth. The liquid inside is not too bitter, but not too sweet either—just how you like it.

“Feeling any better?”

You wince. Going out for dinner with Heeseung meant drinks were also attached. Being back in your hometown after weeks meant you had to check out all your favourite restaurants again and visit the ones that popped up after you left for college. The result: You swallowed down entirely too much soju, Heeseung and Jake had to physically carry you home, your head is killing you right now, and your embarrassment is at its peak.

When you woke up in the early afternoon to texts from your family members detailing their various absences, you reluctantly made your way out of your bedroom and to the Sims’ place.

Which brings you here, perched on a chair at the Sims’ dining table, fiddling with your red string of fate, while the object of your thoughts sits right next to you.

“Yeah, a little,” you murmur in response to his question.

“Good.” Jake stretches his arms above his head, exposing a sliver of his midriff. You swallow. “Your alcohol tolerance is still the same.”

“Yours isn’t any better,” you counter. “You didn’t drink more than one bottle of soju.”

He raises an eyebrow. “You were counting?”

You huff, ignoring the warmth that spreads to your cheeks. “That’s not the point.”

“I’m just joking,” he says, bringing his hands back down. “I was kinda surprised Heeseung has a girlfriend now.”

You hum, taking another sip of your drink. Your head still pounds, but the caffeine is kicking in and making you more lively. It is strange, though, seeing your childhood friend settle down. Judging by the way he talks about her, he’s completely smitten. She’s my soulmate, he had said, and I don’t even believe in my thread.

The memory makes hurt bubble up inside your throat, so you chug the remaining liquid in the mug.

“It’s nice, though,” Jake continues, something… wistful crossing his face. “I wish I had someone like that.”

You look away, staring down at the ring of coffee left on the wooden table from your mug. “Yeah, I guess… Aren’t you dating Chaerin, though?”

You bite the bullet—what’s the point, anyway? There’s no use in dragging it out. Not when he clearly doesn’t know that his soulmate is sitting right next to him. You can deal with the hurt that comes with rejection later.

Jake stills. You glance at him—he tilts his head confusedly. “Chaerin? No… What makes you think that?”

“Everyone said you guys were dating,” you say with a small, uncertain shrug.

“I mean…” He blinks. “We hooked up once, but that’s really it.”

It’s your turn to blink now, bemused. “Huh?”

“Yeah, we were drunk and it just sorta happened? I dunno,” he says sheepishly. “We didn’t remember any of it later, so we just agreed to remain friends. Plus, her soulmate is Sunghoon.”

“Wait, what?” Your teeth worry your bottom lip. Your mind is swirling with questions—was it possible that you had misread Jake Sim all this time?

“Yeah,” he says softly. “It’s no big deal.”

“...Oh. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed things,” you apologise quietly. Despite all this, his words make a swell of optimism rise in your chest.

He shrugs. “I, uh, wouldn’t blame you. We didn’t talk much after… after everything.”

“Yeah.” Your admission is soft, regret burning a hole in your tongue.

“So, um…” Jake trails off, looking unsure of himself. That’s a first, you realise with a start. He’s usually so calm and collected, even in the worst times. “Do you still feel the same as you did a year ago?”

You suck in a breath. “Why—why would you ask me something like that?”

“I—just curious.”

His eyes land on yours, beseeching and glorious. Even when he’s just woken up, he looks like he’s been dipped in the sun’s golden rays. Your heart hammers inside your chest.

“Wait, can I ask you something else? Why… did you reject me that night?”

As soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re transported back to that fateful evening in July.

You stuttered the words out, and explained that you were in love with him, that you were pretty sure he was your soulmate, regardless of who your string was actually connected to. With every new sentence you tacked on, the emotion on Jake’s face vanished. Towards the end, you felt your face crumble.

He left you alone on the pavement, broken-hearted and lovesick.

Jake clears his throat awkwardly. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to come off so harsh on you that day.”

“I don’t care about that, Jake,” you say simply. “I just want to know why.”

“Because I was stupid. I didn’t believe in the soulmate bullshit, but I know you do. You’ve always been a hopeless romantic. I—” He licks his lips before continuing— “The truth is, Y/N, I really, really like you… But I didn’t want to hold you back from finding your true soulmate—whoever was on the other side of your string—’cause I know they’re gonna be the one for you.”

If you weren’t sitting already, you’re sure Jake’s confession would have swept you off your feet and you would be a bumbling mess on his dining room floor. Seeing the forlorn look on his face, you nearly crumble. How stupid your soulmate is. How kind and caring and selfless.

“So I rejected you. I thought I wouldn’t be able to make you happy.” He pauses for a moment, his voice dropping. “It’s still the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

You finally find your voice. “Jake…”

He laughs somberly. “You probably think I’m an asshole.”

“I could never think that,” you say firmly. Your hand finds his on the tabletop, and he laces your fingers together, staring at your connected palms with awe.

“I do think you’re a little bit dumb, because I’ve liked you too since, like, forever—”

“Define forever,” he interrupts, not unkindly.

“Well—maybe since the time you surprised me with all the physical copies of that book series I wanted for my fifteenth birthday?”

“Then,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand, “I’ve loved you since before forever.”

A surprised laugh bursts out of your mouth. You feel a tug on your little finger as Jake moves his hand away from yours and cups your cheek with it instead. “I’ve also wanted to kiss you since before forever.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he confirms, drawing closer to you.

You lean forward and capture his lips with yours, running your tongue along his bottom lip. He parts his mouth with a sigh, tilting his head and deepening the kiss. His other free hand comes to rest on the nape of your neck; you wind your arms around his neck. The position is a bit cumbersome—the edge of the chair digs into your thigh, and he nearly knocks his elbow on the back of his chair—but his touch is searing hot, the welcome kind, the kind that makes you crave more and more and more.

“You promise you won’t do it again?” you ask later, out of breath and flushed.

“I promise,” he says, and he links his pinkie finger with yours to seal the deal.

The thread tied around it glows golden.

#5. he doesn’t even believe in soulmates (but he’ll try)

“You can’t see it?”

“I’ve told you a million times already,” Jake says patiently, “but I can’t.”

“How?” You look at him dubiously. “It’s literally a glowing golden thread connecting you and me.”

“I don’t need a thread to connect us,” your boyfriend quips. “I can think of better uses for a rope.”

You make a sound of disgust. “We’re at the library.”

Jake Sim grins at you, all bright and shining and vivid. “So?”

Taehyun lets out a pointed cough, typing on his laptop. “There are other people here,” he says, motioning to Gaeul, Chaerin and Sunghoon. All three of them are very obviously avoiding your gaze. Even the tips of Taehyun’s ears are pink. You stifle a giggle.

“Sorry,” Jake says, not sounding sorry at all. He picks up your hand again, thumb brushing against the knuckle of your little finger, right above the knot where the golden string is tied. He whispers to you, next, “I just don’t believe in it.”

“I know,” you say. “But you’re missing out on a lot.”

Jake hums. “I don’t believe in soulmates. But I believe in you.”

You roll your eyes, ready to chew him out for being a sappy romantic again, when his next words make your heart stutter.

“I think that’s good enough for me.”

876 notes · View notes

helslastangel · 2 months ago

Text

Random Astro Placement Observations

Original individual posts combined into this single post. Based on personal interpretation. If it doesn't apply, LET IT FLY. Enjoy.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Uranus in Aquarius in 1H

-Free-spirited and eccentric with a unique way of thinking and inspiring change

-Does not care to conform to societal norms; wants to carve their own path

-Others associate their unconventional approach with leadership potential

-Highly innovative and good at communicating their ideas to others

-May endure setbacks and unforeseen changes in their life; unpleasant surprises

-Can fall into a rut if their progress is interrupted too drastically and too often

-Can appear to be attention-seeking at times, especially in dress and mannerisms

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Jupiter Sextile Neptune in Synastry

-These two dream together so well that they might as well be lost in Wonderland.

-The Jupiter person hates stagnancy and always wants to be growing, expanding outwards into who-knows-where.

-The Neptune person has a huge imagination and enjoys venturing into the unknown, even if only through the mind.

-When the Jupiter person gets stuck in a rut, unable to think of a path forward, the Neptune person floats in to whisper a little random something in their ear that revives the spark and saves the day.

-The benefits don't only go one way either, when the Neptune person gets lost in all the mist in their head, unable to act on anything, the Jupiter person can gallop in to hoist them up above the fog and carry them forward to a real destination.

-That is, assuming they both don't start having too much fun poking holes in the clouds instead.

-A risk with this aspect is that both people could end up enabling each other's inaction and being too content to build castles in the sky if they're not careful. But if they keep an eye on that, this can be an incredibly creative pair who will never grow bored with each other.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Pluto Trine Ascendant

-Projects a strong outer appearance even when feeling the exact opposite inside

-Charismatic people who others find attractive or at least intriguing

-Can be blunt but are perceived by others as charming and "just being honest"

-Shares what they want to; hides their life from the public eye without trying

-Can leave others feeling left in the dark or excluded from their inner circle.

-May be the subject of many rumors; some true, some false

-Others assume this person is healthier, wealthier, or more popular than they are

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Sun Sextile Mars

-With Sun Sextile Mars in your natal chart, you are brave, full of energy and often look young for your age. Some of you might be into sports or some kind of intense activities (dancing, martial arts, rock climbing, HIIT, etc.).

-If you’re more of a homebody, you could be the type to engage in causes online, standing up for endangered or marginalized beings.

-People might hit on you often or even if not, you might have a little trouble with the people who DO show interest in you mainly being interested in sex. At least, at first. Depending on your personal preferences and other placements, this may or may not be a problem.

- You’re the type of person who can work equally well alone or in a group, though you may prefer solo work if the groups you end up in can’t keep up with your energy.

-You’re usually popular and make friends very easily, though your direct way of speaking can rub some people the wrong way. However, people get used to you and quickly overlook this, as your honest nature and authenticity is very refreshing for most.

-The dynamic between you and your father/father-figure may be unique or just noticeably strong in some way. Others may often describe you as a “chip off the old block,” “Daddy’s girl” or some other phrase that highlights this connection.

-This can also go either way - You may have a positive or negative relationship with the masculine parent, it will just be a strong one regardless.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Neptune Trine Lilith

-Unafraid of things others find controversial, extreme or taboo

-Tend to be open (or at least comfortable) with their sexuality

-Highly expressive and does not bend to societal expectations

-Refuses to be controlled or held back by anyone but themselves

-Surprises others with their unconventional, free-spirited approach to spirituality

-Met with curiosity and acceptance rather than scorn for their views

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mercury in Libra

-You're diplomatic and fair, but also take forever to make up your mind.

-People love you for the way you consider everyone's point of view, but it's okay to have your own opinion and stand on it too.

-Your partners love you because you'll never embarrass them in public.

-You believe in a united front and will stand by those you love in public and correct them in private.

-Somehow you have the best advice. Even if you don't always take it yourself.

-One thing about you, you're gonna make a list of pros and cons.

-Your voice is so smooth and sexy. People fall in love with the way you sound and you don't even know it.

-Your friends call you when they can't sleep, and not in a bad way. You're just so calming to listen to that it takes their stress away.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Sun Trine Moon

-You are popular and generally likable, but may be somewhat private or secretive.

-Others see you as someone who has mastered the balance between showing humility and displaying confidence. This fact alone makes you so much more attractive to others.

-Speaking of attraction, people are often attracted to the sense of security they feel around you. You're generally easygoing, or at least you try to appear that way.

-Harmony is important to you and you'll go lengths to maintain it. It can be difficult for you to understand people who seem to be at war with themselves, because your own ideals and feelings are rarely at odds.

-If there aren't enough challenging aspects in your chart to make you more familiar with inner conflict, you could find yourself becoming avoidant and sweeping things under the rug or delaying tough conversations with others.

-People think you know what you’re talking about, even if you don’t. There’s an aura of “knowing” about you and may often be picked to lead teams or call the shots in some way. This can be either flattering or annoying, depending on whether you enjoy being in charge.

-You’re a friendly person and avoid conflict, but you can certainly defend yourself if necessary and others are sometimes surprised when a more firm side of your personality comes out. Overall though, you're most likely to live and let live whenever possible.

-You can be extremely accepting of others and yourself, but sometimes to a fault. It's a good idea to get in the habit of questioning things or seeking out perspectives on life that are different from your own.

-Family can be your Achille's heel as you’ll put up with things from loved ones that you’d never tolerate from anyone else.

-There are many things you’re good at, but you’re unlikely to brag. Your efforts may go unnoticed for a short time simply because you never bring them up and don’t point out anything you’ve done to anyone.

-You may embody the sentiment of “if it doesn’t affect me, then it doesn’t bother me." Can have an easier time achieving goals since emotions won't get in the way.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Sagittarius Sun in 11H

-Optimistic and freedom-loving; constantly seeking adventure

-May be a strong presence in their social circle, if not the leader

-Values friendship highly and wants to work/live/travel with friends

-Can be idealistic but surrounds themselves with people who think differently and can offer varying perspectives

-Could be involved in social justice matters and be a voice for change

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Sun Sextile Mercury in Synastry

-Conversations between the Sun person and the Mercury person are lively and extremely enjoyable for both of them.

-These are the friends or partners who can easily spend hours on the phone or facetime, talking about anything and everything under the sun from why humans speak so many different languages to what color socks goes with what outfit.

-The Sun person brings new concepts and raw perspectives to the conversation, which the Mercury person is all too happy to process and put into the best combination of words.

-This aspect is especially sweet for pairs who have compatible hobbies or skills/professions, e.g. a singer/musician and a writer/poet, or a web/software developer and a copywriter.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Ascendant Conjunct Uranus

-Original thinkers who can usually back up their ideas with actions

-Like to be around open-minded, progressive types of people

-Love to play the devil's advocate; can rebel or argue for the sake of it

-Others view them confident and creative, yet also eccentric

May sabotage themselves by constantly trying to shock people

-Looks for partners who need freedom and personal space, like them

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Moon Conjunct Neptune

-You are highly imaginative and creative. Possibly a great storyteller who can take the most mundane experience and recast it in an interesting and theatrical light. This can make you popular and very well-liked by others.

-You might make an exceptional actor, whether professionally or in everyday life. Though if overdone, this trait can backfire and lead to you being loved for who you are not.

-This is rarely malicious on others' part: Neptune's misty illusions, combined with the changeable nature of the moon cause you to unintentionally fool others and sometimes yourself.

-Internally, you could be quite sensitive, but whether you wear this on your sleeve or conceal it depends on your moon sign and other aspects. Regardless, you often absorb all the energies in a room and constantly process everything you see and feel.

-Sometimes, it could feel like you have no idea where you end and others begin. Struggling with emotional boundaries can be a negative theme in your life if not balanced out by other aspects.

-People who do not this (or similar) placements can find it difficult to empathize with you and might spread rumors or make your personality a frequent topic of their conversations.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Venus Trine Saturn

-Extremely loyal; can be reserved and controlled in social settings

-Not obviously introverted or extroverted; quiet but not shy

-Usually attracted to older partners or people with mature energy

-Afraid of rejection but will try to hide this from others at all costs

-Highly determined when their mind is set to achieve something

-Can be creative and will usually finish the projects they start

-Blends structures with aesthetics well; may enjoy interior design

-Extremely responsible people who others look up to and rely on

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Juno in Scorpio

-While Venus may show how we fall in love and what traits attract us most, Juno shows what we truly need to feel safe and secure in a marriage or long-term partnership, regardless of what we're attracted to.

-In my case, I have both Venus and Juno in Scorpio, so there isn't much difference between what I need and what I desire in a partner. But some may not be so fortunate and experience a war with themselves.

-Juno in Scorpio natives like an element of mystery around their relationships. The allure of having a whole other side to their lives behind closed doors that the public knows nothing about.

-Traditionally ruled by Mars, Scorpio approaches emotion with a lot of passion and a sense of urgency. When Juno is placed in this sign, the natives can experience intense power dynamics with the object of their affection. A fear of betrayal and obsession with loyalty is also present.

-Scorpio Juno people NEED depth in their relationship, otherwise they will fall out of love. If they cannot connect deeply with their lover for any reason, they will do everything possible to reestablish the bond.

-However, if their partner makes no effort to restore the connection, they can often grow to hate their partner just as deeply as they once loved them. Depending on the rest of their chart, they may either stay in the relationship out of obligation, but entertain secret affairs, or they may sever the relationship entirely and seek another, or become celibate and closed off to relationships entirely.

-Scorpio Juno people will not be happy with anything less than a true soulmate relationship. Despite being slow to open up themselves, they desire partners who are trusting, loyal and unafraid to show vulnerability.

-The ride or die type of relationship is usually the only kind of relationship these natives feel truly satisfied in. They can often find this kind of connection in people with whom they have Juno-Mars, Juno-Venus, Juno-Sun, or Juno-Sun synastry, or people with significant/many planets in Scorpio.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Ascendant Conjunct Mars

-Cares about others but does not over-identify with their emotions.

-Can spend hours trying to figure out why everyone else is so upset.

-Joyful (unless depressed) but also impulsive and easily angered

-Comes on strong, which thrills some and overwhelms others.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Venus Conjunct Jupiter

-You’re a gentle peacemaker. Aggression and conflict grieve your spirit in ways that words can’t express.

-Harsh personalities can drive you to step out of character yourself, so you tend to seek out agreeable people to be friends with. This isn’t difficult as you’re generally popular in your social circles unless other placements in your chart suggest otherwise.

-Anytime there is a dispute, you’re likely to walk away or try to delay getting into the argument.

-You may be physically attractive, but the brightest aspect of your appeal is how affectionate you are to those you care for. Unless depressed or otherwise weighed down by circumstance, your presence is naturally cozy and very soothing to others, even if you don’t quite understand why.

-Others can see and feel the warm aura that surrounds you and makes them feel like anywhere with you is a safe space.

-Another thing you may notice is that people open up to you very easily, telling you all about their dreams, hopes, aspirations and other things that you wouldn’t normally discuss with a stranger.

-You also may be extremely creative, whether in the way that you think and dream, or in the things that you do (music, design, writing, dance, poetry, etc). This is one of the more promising aspects for love and relationships, and these may come relatively easily without too much effort on your part.

-Of course, for every dawn there is dusk: you may be rather lazy, self-indulgent, and greedy, if not careful to keep your desires under control. However, with a bit of self-reflection and determination to improve, you will get along in life just fine.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Moon Trine Venus in Synastry

-If your Moon trines someone's Venus (or the other way around), you could have more compassion for each other than for other people.

-There will be a strong emotional connection between you.

-Others might complain that you let each other get away with everything, lol.

-There's an unspoken "handle with care" vibe between you that's very sweet.

-It can be hard to suppress this vibe if being close with that person is wrong or taboo in some way (e.g. coworkers, boss, etc.).

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mars Opposite Neptune

-May try to present an image that fits the social expectations of their environment instead of their current reality (esp. with 1H Mars).

-Tends to hide internal insecurities with external confidence that may seem unnatural or "fake"

-Depending on where Neptune is placed, certain people or places will appear to be safe, leading the native to reveal themselves more clearly, only to find out it was a trick.

-People who can see past their brave façade will either try to be safe space for then, or will study their insecurities to take advantage of them

-Can be a prime target for energy vampires, narcissists, etc., if unhealthy/unevolved

-They are a frequent topic of discussion in their social groups; can be positive in some cases or if other aspects outweigh this one, but with mars opposing neptune, these natives are usually gossiped about/slandered more than anything else

-Their morals/ethics can appear questionable to others due to Neptune's influence clouding the native's good intentions and honest motivations behind their actions.

-They may notice that people often accuse them of being sneaky or seeming "sus" without being able to give any real reason.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Venus Square Jupiter

-Highly motivated to create things, but often lacks the right skill set to do so

-May try to sooth their frustration by spending large sums to own luxury goods

-Draws others in with their playful, mildly risky sense of humor

-Makes friends easily but can lose them all to long periods without contact, irreconcilable differences in religion or politics, or generally drifting apart

-Charming and fun to be around, but can be extremely selfish in connections

-Often has lonely spells because their loved ones find them too demanding

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Saturn in Pisces

-You may be hard on yourself and not see your talents and abilities for what they truly are. Learning to trust your intuition and nurture self-confidence will help a lot.

-You could tend to hold on to the past and have trouble letting pain go. Often paranoid or defensive as a means of self-protection

-Highly compassionate and may be extremely practical too, Can struggle to draw the line where you end and others begin.

-You are patient and will often forgo your own comfort in the present to help others or to achieve a greater good in the future

-Usually artistic, or highly appreciative of artistic traits and creations from others

-Might turn to religion or some other kind of spirituality for structure and faith in life

-Your feet can give trouble, perhaps pain in the bones or issues with walking/gait

-You're sensitive and feel vulnerable or unprotected in life, even if you don't admit it.

-Victim or martyr complexes are common if not avoided through self-reflection and overcoming negative thoughts and emotions

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Mercury in Leo in 12H

-Can have a dramatic or over-confident way of speaking

-Very charismatic, enthusiastic; impossible for others to ignore

-Wants to be noticed and admired for the things they choose to say- May share their thoughts and opinions often hoping for feedback

-Sometimes aloof, reserved; struggles to express certain emotions

-Might keep part of themselves locked away from others at all times

-Tends to explore their environment more than their inner world

-Could have sporadic issues with short-term memory or comprehension

-Too much overthinking can lead to depression and self-imposed isolation

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Neptune Opposite Ascendant

-You might not have a set persona and will appear one way today and completely different tomorrow.

-It's possible that your appearance, mannerisms, and speech change drastically from one day to the next.

-Others may see you as a shapeshifter or even deceptive in some way. At best, you're generally unpredictable and confusing to those around you.

-Only a few can see clearly through the fog without you having to explain yourself. These people often become your best friends or even romantic partners.

-You give off varying auras at different times to different people so it's not uncommon people with this aspect to have one set of friends who know them to be one way, and others who know them to completely different.

-E.g. seeming reserved or shy in one friend group, naïve and innocent in another, mysterious and dark with a 3rd, outgoing and free-spirited with others, etc.).

-Depending on your personal tolerance for chaos, you may spend an enormous amount of time and energy keeping your friends/friend groups from ever meeting each other.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Sun Conjunction Mercury

-The self is expressed in a natural, flowing way; charismatic and a great talker

-May enjoy intellectual topics but struggle to be objective about them

-Connects well with other as they easily & quickly adjust their tone and delivery

-Talks more than listens, easily distracted unless others are equally engaging

-Great public speakers, writers, etc., but can be unreliable and procrastinating

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Jupiter Opposite Sun in Synastry

-This can signal a difference of opinion between you and your partner on key topics, such as religion, philosophy, politics, etc.

-This does not have to be a bad thing, but it can cause conflict between partners with strong egos who aren't so invested in making things work.

-But if both are committed to going the distance with each other, they should hear each other out and see their differences as opportunities to learn and grow together.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mars Trine Neptune

-Highly creative; can bring fantasies to life in some shape or form

-Usually cultured and can hold their own in a variety of environments

-Action-oriented, yet charming and persuasive; liked by others

-Quick to defend those who cannot defend themselves

-Has knowledge of theoretical things, but struggles in day-to-day life

-Could easily become a starving artist due to their impracticality

-May seek partnerships with people who possess life skills they lack

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Moon Conjunct Uranus

-Requires a lot of personal space and almost total freedom. Highly independent and hates relying on others for anything or being misjudged.

-Has a busy aura or a buzzing kind of underlying energy, even at rest, but is easily drained emotionally. People view them as unpredictable and hard to pin down.

-May be called energizer bunny or simply get lots of comments from people telling them to relax/slow down, even when they're not doing anything.

-Can inspire others easily, from the small things like getting chores/assignments done, to the big things like career changes, moving overseas, starting a business or relationship, etc.

-Lives life completely on their own terms; very unhappy if forced to submit to anyone else's agenda

-Has strong words for those who try to control or "fix" them; will only befriend the most open-minded people.

-May seem open and like the type to wear their heart on their sleeve, but are quite detached and show only what they want others to see

-Prone to conceal their true emotional state and convince themselves and others that they've said how they felt when they have. Hold things in until they inevitably explode.

-Can be stubborn or not like being told what to do, but makes up for it with their conversational charm and quick-thinking/problem-solving abilities

-Wants to be included and important to the family (biological or otherwise) but does not want to held hostage or smothered by others' emotional demands

-Can become very restless if life becomes too dull/stagnant. Needs constant stimulation and may spend a lot of time consuming media on the Internet.

-Might feel differently about things from one moment to the next. Highly impulsive

-Starts new friendships/relationships with a lot of passion and attentiveness; struggles to keep this up long-term; often accused of becoming nonchalant

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Mercury Conjunct Pluto

-Seeks challenges; does not like to deal with anything that is too easy

-Persuasive speakers who convince others with flawless arguments

-Can be extremely stubborn and believe that they are alright right

-May study psychology or be more interested in the topic than most

-Highly diplomatic; they would rather sway than slay their opponent

-Quick, but chaotic thinkers. Others find it hard to keep up with them

-Naturally inclined to the sciences; easily notices causes and effects

-Leaves no stone unturned; will not try to escape their problems

-Can be somewhat overzealous in communication and alienate friend

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Chiron in 3H

-Might talk a little too much at all the wrong times. Even if the quieter type, they can end up oversharing without realizing it, which might not be the worst thing in the world if they are generally popular and well-liked, but it can be devastating if people already don't like them before they even open their mouths.

-Regardless of social standing, they can have problems in the workplace if they reveal the wrong things to the wrong people. Either getting into hot water with HR because of the way someone interpreted the things they said, or losing opportunities for promotion because something got back to a manager and ruined their reputation.

-Often, these people had social problems in childhood that never got resolved and continue to follow them into adulthood. A lot of it has to do with not being listened to and feeling ignored or like they had to outdo themselves constantly to be noticed. This often leads to people pleasing or becoming clingy with anyone who shows (or appears to show) genuine interest in them as a person.

-People with this placement can go from being the chatterbox or trauma dumping friend to being THAT person who everyone goes to for advice or even just to listen to because of the interesting stories and thoughts you have to share.

-People with Chiron in the 3rd house can overcome the negative aspects of this placement by becoming more mindful of how quickly one gets comfortable with others. That's not to say you have to be standoffish or aloof, but just consider whether something really needs to be said before saying it. With time and practice, you can become an excellent and highly empathetic communicator who knows what to say and when to say it.

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

Natal Lilith Sextile Ascendant

- Can physically manifest in the native being extremely tall or short

-Often appears confident no matter how they really feel about themselves

-Usually gains genuine confidence and increased self-esteem with age

-Might enjoy saying or doing things that shock or surprise others

-Attracts sexual attention without intending to, or realizing others feel this way

-Can trigger very strong reactions in other people, especially if female/feminine

-May be shunned by the majority of women, or the topic of their conversations

-Misjudged by people who have no intention of getting to know them or the truth

˖°.🪐.ೃ࿔*:･

↤ go back to the masterlist

#astrology observations #astro notes #astrology #astro posts #astrology signs #astrology tumblr #astro observations #astrology blog

856 notes · View notes

mrmeowski · 11 days ago

Text

˚✧𝐂𝐚𝐧 𝐈…?✧˚

Synopsis: Curiosity often pushes us to seek answers to the unknown, but sometimes, those simple questions lead you down unexpected paths. What seems innocent at first can stir deeper emotions, and what’s shared may reveal more than anticipated. The question is, are you ready for them?

CW: Slight angst [Boothill], slight 2.5 spoilers [Jiaoqiu], suggestive

Word Count: 5.5k

Characters: 🧡༻✧ Blade [668] 💜༻✧ Boothill [627] 🧡༻✧ Dan Heng • IL [628] 💜༻✧ Dr. Ratio [880] 🧡༻✧ Jiaoqiu [776] 💜༻✧ Jing Yuan [993] 🧡༻✧ Sunday [935]

⋇⊰BLADE⊱⋇

"Can I… help you with the bandages, Yingxing?" His eyes shift toward you, a flicker of irritation crossing his gaze as he starts unwinding the bindings on his arm.

You stand in the doorway, watching him. He sits silently on the edge of the bed, half-turned toward the wall, his top discarded. Shadows play across his scarred skin, deep lines from past battles marring his form, history of his trials and rebirths.

To anyone else, this sight of him unguarded would be fleeting, barely a moment before he'd forcefully shut them out. But you aren't just anyone, and for you, he’s left the door ajar, though he denies it.

"I’ve told you not to call me that." His words are gruff, but they lack the bite he'd have with anyone else.

Ignoring his protest, you step inside, letting the door slide shut behind you as you settle beside him on the bed. The mattress dips slightly under your weight, and he tenses, though he doesn’t move away.

"So I take that as a yes?" A playful smile tugging at your lips as you leaned your head on his shoulder.

He huffs but doesn’t pull his arm back.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” he mutters.

Feigning a pout, you slipped your arms around his waist, feeling the subtle hitch in his breath as your hands brushed over his skin.

"Oh, come on," you teased, nudging him gently. "Can't I care for my dear husband?" For a moment, he was silent, his jaw clenched as he stared at his hands, as if trying to decide whether to give in.

With a reluctant sigh, he handed you the bandages, though his voice still held a touch of exasperation.

"Fine. But make it quick." With a smile, you took the roll from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for a brief moment longer than necessary.

His warmth radiated under your touch, and as you began to carefully wrap the bandages over his scars, your movements were gentle, almost reverent, tracing the lines of his past with a tenderness only you could offer him.

"You know," you murmured, "You don't have to do everything alone." He tensed, his gaze flicking to you.

"I don't need help," he said, but his tone had softened significantly.

You only smiled, pressing lightly on his shoulder to make him hold still.

"Maybe not," you replied, "But that doesn’t mean you can’t let me help anyway." A rare softness flickered in his eyes, and for a brief moment, he let himself lean into your touch.

Silence settled between you, a comfortable, unspoken understanding. And as you continued your work, you could feel his heartbeat—a steady rhythm beneath layers of pain, guarded by walls he let no one else cross.

When the last bandage was secure, you paused, fingers lingering on his skin.

"See?" You grinned proudly. "Not so hard to let someone in every now and then., hm?"

He huffed, turning his gaze away to hide the faint blush that crept onto his cheeks. But he couldn't deny his heart any longer, nor the warmth that had stirred within him since you'd come into his life.

Taking a breath, he lifted his hand, the wedding ring that decorated his finger gleamed faintly in the soft light of his room—a reminder of the promise you’d both made, binding him to you more deeply than any scars ever could.

His hand found its way to your cheek, rough and calloused from battle, yet gentle as it cupped your face. You leaned into his touch. There was a vulnerability in his gaze that is only known to you. Slowly, he leaned closer, his lips capturing yours in a tender, lingering kiss that spoke more than words ever could.

You melted into his embrace, responding to the quiet passion he’d held back for so long.

Between breaths, his lips hovered close to yours, and in a whisper that trembled with sincerity, he said, “Thank you… for staying by my side all this time.”

⋇⊰BOOTHILL⊱⋇

"Can I... wear your hat?" You asked, unable to keep the curiosity out of your voice.

You knew what they said, curiosity killed the cat, but really, it was just a cowboy hat, right?

You’d seen him without it on a few rare occasions, but never anyone else wearing it. Boothill was... particular about that hat—almost as if it was an extension of himself.

So when you found yourself sitting close to him on the old, worn sofa, his metal arm resting around your shoulders and pulling you in just a bit closer, the question slipped out before you could stop yourself.

For a moment, he was silent. You could see the faintest trace of color rise to his cheeks, darkening his usual calm expression with a blush you’d never quite seen before.

He chuckled, his hand reaching over to tousle your hair playfully, “Well now, darlin’,” he drawled, an easy grin spreading across his face, sharp teeth glistening, “What’s got ya so interested in this ol’ thing, huh? Don’t tell me you’ve gone and developed a taste for a dusty cowboy hat...” You rolled your eyes, fighting the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Oh, come on, I just want to see what all the fuss is about. It’s not like it’ll bite.” He tilted his head, watching you with a mix of amusement and something softer, almost hesitant.

“Ain't no ordinary hat, ya know," he muttered, that faint blush deepening as he looked away for a moment, “But if ya really wanna wear it... who am I to say no to a pretty thing like you?”

You watched as his hand came up slowly, taking the hat from his head. He held it for a moment, as though second-guessing himself, then handed it to you with an almost reverent care. The weight of it settled in your hands, and as you gingerly placed it on your head, his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening.

“There,” he murmured, his tone lower, “Looks like you’re all set to join the rodeo now.” You laughed, adjusting the brim so it sat just right, feeling a rush of warmth at the way he was looking at you, like you’d just stepped right into his heart.

He shook his head, grinning as he leaned back, his arm still around your shoulders. “Enjoy every second now, sugar—ain’t every day I let someone else wear that ol’ hat of mine.” You turned to face him, feeling bold, your gaze meeting his.

“Guess that means you trust me, huh?” He chuckled again, that easy, lazy grin spreading across his face as he looked back at you with a glint in his eye.

“Trust, interest… somethin’ like that.” Pulling you in a little closer. His fingers trailed down your cheek, slow and lingering, as he let his thumb trace along your jaw. “Just means you might be in for a bit of trouble now,” he whispered, his voice low and warm, his gaze flickering to your lips.

The brim of his hat dipped, casting a shadow over your faces, and you felt his lips brush against yours. The kiss was gentle at first, but quickly deepened as his sharp teeth grazed your lower lip, pulling at it in a way that made your heart race.

Deep within something weighed heavy in his chest—a deep, unspoken grief that seemed to tug at the very core of him. The moment you wore that hat of his... it reminded him of her, of a time long ago, when he was still human, when he had something to protect—someone to care for. His daughter. The one he had lost, the one he would never get back.

His heart, once broken, was mended only by one thing: you. He pulled away slightly, his lips hovering just above yours, his breath ragged.

"I ain't the man I once was... but I’ll protect you, darlin'. With my life, even if it goes against everythin' I ever knew. As long as it's you... I'll do it."

⋇⊰DAN HENG • IL⊱⋇

“Can I… touch your horns?" Your voice barely above a whisper.

The very moment Dan Heng shed his human form to reveal the graceful, imposing figure of Imbibitor Lunae, an undeniable curiosity had settled within you. Those glowing horns, the soft fur trailing along his tail—they all seemed to call to you, sparking a fascination that you just couldn't ignore.

He glanced up from his book, his calm demeanor briefly faltering as a faint blush colored his pale cheeks.

“Excuse me?” His tone was guarded, but you could see the faint flicker of surprise in his eyes.

It was as if he needed you to repeat it, to confirm you’d actually asked what he thought you did.

You had always urged him to embrace his true Vidyadhara form. At first, he resisted, but your persistence wore down his resolve. Eventually, he relented, but only within the privacy of his quarters or the quiet of an empty Astral Express.

“You heard me,” you said, inching a little closer, fingers itching to reach out. “I just… wonder what they feel like.” Your gaze drifted to his horns, mesmerized by the gentle glow that radiated from them, casting a warm light across his features.

For a moment, he looked away, his shoulders tense. “It’s not... something I’m accustomed to,” he murmured, his voice low. His gaze returned to you, a quiet understanding in his eyes. "But… I-I suppose I can allow it."

He leaned down, bringing his face closer to yours, giving you an unspoken invitation.

With a him, you raised your hand, reaching out to trace the gleaming, curved horns that adorned his head. The moment your fingertips brushed against their smooth surface, he inhaled sharply, and a low, involuntary growl escaped his lips.

His book snapped shut in his hand, and his whole body seemed to shiver from the contact, the sensation reverberating through him. Surprised, you flinched, your fingers halting as you pulled back.

“A-Are you alri—”

He let out a strained sigh, his hand darting forward to gently capture yours and place it back on his horns, “Why’d you stop?” His voice was rough, with a hunger you’d rarely heard from him.

Wait... is he purring? Half-lidded, his gaze locked onto you, eyes softened by the warmth that has always there when you're around.

His horns weren't usually so sensitive to the touch, but perhaps it was because it was you—the one person who had grown so close to him, the one person he felt tethered to in a way he couldn't fully explain. His body seemed to respond to even the slightest touch, and the very air you breathed seemed to send him spiraling.

As you resumed tracing his horns, the low rumble of a purr rose in his chest, almost too soft to catch. You blinked, your breath catching as you noticed his tail slowly curling and swaying behind him, giving away his pleasure. The purr deepened, reverberating through him as he leaned into your touch, his control slipping.

And then, before you could react, he pushed you deeper into mattress of his bed. You felt his chest press against yours, his tail curling possessively around your waist, pulling you closer as he buried his face against the side of your cheek, his purr vibrating against your skin.

He brushed his nose along your cheek, purring with an intensity that left no doubt about his feelings. You felt his heartbeat echoing in rhythm with yours, and his arms encircled you.

There was no mistaking it now. He knew the moment you stepped foot into the Astral Express, the moment you entered his life.

His head rested against yours, the glow of his horns casting a soft light between you, whispering into your ear, “You’re mine...”

⋇⊰DR. RATIO⊱⋇

“Can I... touch your arm?” The words slipped out before you could even process them, and by the time you realized, it was too late.

You were constantly drawn to the unknown, to things that fascinated you—and today, Dr. Ratio’s arm, the one exposed by his rather bold style of clothing, had caught your attention.

You could feel eyes shifting to you, a mix of shocked and bewildered looks coming from the students surrounding you both. Among them, you could practically feel his sharp, glaring stare boring into your skull.

He sighed, clearly irritated, before passing the clipboard he held to one of the astonished students. He grumbled something under his breath, clearly struggling to keep his composure.

“Excuse us for a moment… continue with your project,” he ordered through gritted teeth.

Before you could react, he had his arm around your shoulder, guiding you swiftly out of the room and into a quiet, secluded hallway.

Once out of earshot, he released you, crossing his arms and fixing you with a stern, no-nonsense glare.

“Do you realize the kind of attention you’re attracting with those questions?” His brow arched.

You gave him a sheepish grin, scratching the back of your neck as you looked away.

“I didn’t mean for it to slip out,” you admitted, your voice light. “At least… not in front of everyone. But really, it’s tempting.” You glanced back at him, letting the playful curiosity seep back into your gaze.

He sighed, shaking his head slightly as he studied you.

“I can never truly understand what goes on in your head, [Name]. Nor how someone like you manages to be one of the best researchers here,” he muttered, sounding exasperated but almost... begrudgingly impressed. “You were always like this, even back when we were students.”

It was true. Back then, you’d always ranked either at the very top or just below him, your carefree demeanor had led him to believe you didn’t take anything seriously. You had an uncanny ability to get under his skin, and no amount of stern lectures ever seemed to change that.

“Don’t judge a book by its cover, right?” You shrugged, clicking your tongue playfully, adding, “So, is that a yes or a no?” He gave you a hard stare, brow furrowed.

“You’re serious about that?” His frown deepened, and for a moment, he seemed genuinely perplexed.

You were a puzzle he could never quite solve—a Rubik’s cube with infinitely shifting sides, always challenging, always just out of reach.With a heavy sigh, he finally relented, unfolding his arms and extending one toward you.

“Fine,” he said, his voice resigned. “If this will put an end to your pestering, then go ahead.”

You couldn’t hide your delight as you grinned and reached out, fingertips brushing against the firm curve of his arm.

The instant your touch met his skin, a subtle shiver that ran through him, though he tried his best to keep his expression steady. His poker face remained composed, yet you sensed the faintest twitch in his jaw.

Every time you were near, there was this unexplainable spark between you, something that always lingered just beneath the surface.

He’d told himself countless times that he kept it well-hidden, convinced that his practiced, stoic mask shielded him from your perceptive gaze. But there were whispers—others had noticed how he’d look at you, and sometimes he wondered how long he could keep this under wraps. At least, he reassured himself, you hadn’t noticed… yet.

His arm was exactly as it's displayed—defined, solid, with the firmness of something sculpted. As you trailed your fingers along his bicep, you looked up at him, caught in that same sense of wonder you often had when encountering the unknown, that glint in your eyes like a spark of discovery.

He held your gaze, his own expression softening against his will. Somehow, the realization that he could inspire that curiosity in you made something inside him stir—a quiet pride, even if he’d never dare admit it.

“Done?” Arching a brow, though there was something almost gentle in his tone.

You couldn't resist giving his arm a playful squeeze—only for a surprised sound, almost a groan, to slip from him. His cheeks flushed a faint pink as he shot you a glare, yet neither of you moved, frozen in place.

A second passed in that charged silence before you broke it with a shaky laugh.

“A-Ahaha… I-I think that settles it,” you said, flashing an awkward smile as you tried to compose yourself.

He muttered something under his breath, flustered, “This is the last time I’ll indulge any of your whims.” Yet he wasn’t certain he could keep that promise.

“Oh, well, at least I enjoyed my privileges,” you teased, grinning as you attempted to brush past him to rejoin the others.

But before you could slip away, his hand gripped your arm, halting you.

“Since you’ve had your fill… I expect you’ll indulge my curiosities as well,” he murmured, voice low.

You tilted your head, looking up at him, but he didn’t move back. His hand lingered as he traced the curve of your cheek with a feather-light touch, his gaze intent.

“So?” he asked softly, his voice almost a whisper. “Is it a yes or a no?”

⋇⊰JIAOQIU⊱⋇

“Can I… touch your tail?” It was out of the blue to suddenly asked him fot his.

But really, who could blame you? His tail was just there, brushing against your legs with that irresistible fluffiness. It was practically begging to be touched!

Jiaoqiu’s ears perked at your request, and though you couldn’t see his expression entirely, you caught a glimpse of his grin hidden behind his fan. He had been waiting for this, teasing you by letting his tail drift closer until you could no longer resist.

“Oh my, aren’t you bold?” He purred, his tail slowly winding around your waist as he leaned in closer. “You do know it’s quite… rude to ask a Foxian such a thing, hm?” His tone was light, yet playful, and his words left you flustered.

Your face heated up, and you scrambled to apologize, “I-I’m sorry, Jiaoqiu! I didn’t mean to—”

“—For strangers,” he interrupted, his voice soft as his free hand reached out, fingers gently brushing against your cheek. His thumb traced a small circle, grounding you with his touch. “But you… you are no stranger to me.”

His voice was a low whisper now, an invitation that made your heart skip a beat. “Go on… touch it,” he urged, his words making your nerves flutter with a mix of excitement and hesitation.

You hesitated, fingers trembling as they moved closer to the soft, salmon tainted fur. Finally, you brushed your fingertips over his tail, feeling its warmth and softness.

His breath hitched, his fan lowering just enough for you to see his lips part slightly.

Each movements sent a shiver through him, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his ears twitched with your every touch. As your hands roamed deeper into the soft fur of his tail, he didn’t try to hide how much he enjoyed it.

But then again, he never really had been hiding it from the start, had he? It was you who had been oblivious to how he truly felt—how close he had always been to you.

His tail curled further around you, brushing against your body as if drawing you in. It wasn’t just his tail; his scent had already imprinted on you, marking something only the other Foxians could understand.

Even after he was gone, that trace of him stayed with you, lingering on your skin as if to remind others that you belonged to him.

“Feel free to touch me…” His voice was low, inviting, with a grin that never wavered. “I don’t mind.”

Was this what heaven felt like? You wondered, your fingers still lost in the softness of his tail, your heart racing as his words settled in the air between you.

Your gaze drifted to his ears, noticing the faint flush at the tips. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips at the sight.

Curious, you cautiously reached up, your fingers brushing gently against the soft, white fuzz inside his ears. His reaction was immediate—a slight quiver running through his body as his grin deepened.

“So this…” you murmured, your fingers lingering near the sensitive spot, “Is alright?”

His breath caught again, and he gave a slow nod, allowing you the freedom to explore. “That’s perfectly fine,” he purred, the words dripping with a quiet satisfaction.

He leaned into your touch, his cheek brushing against your arm as you ran your fingers over his ears. A contented purr vibrated through him, but then you felt something... wet?

You froze, confusion flickering across your face as you glanced down. He was nipping at your arm, leaving soft kisses on your skin.

"Jiaoqiu...?" Your heart raced, pounding in your chest as you tried to process what was happening.

He chuckled softly and for a moment, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his eyes. Though his vision was obscured, his golden irises seemed to meet yours through the half-lidded gaze he offered. Even without seeing, there was an unmistakable intensity in the way his eyes stirred with deep and raw emotions.

"When I spoke, you can touch antyhing... I was hoping for something else... [Name]," he whispered, his lips pressing a delicate kiss into your arm again, this time lingering just a fraction longer. "I suppose I need to be a bit more clear, hm?" His tail unwound from around your waist, and the warmth of his hand moved, sliding down from your cheek to gently grasp your hand.

His fingers intertwined with yours, his grip firm yet gentle, his touch holding an unspoken promise. The playful edge in his voice deepened.

"Why don’t we go to your residence, my little bunny?"

⋇⊰JING YUAN⊱⋇

"Can I... pet Snowmoon?" You ask, your gaze fixed on the lion sprawled lazily beside Jing Yuan’s desk.

All the while the general is hunched slightly over the mountain of paperwork. It’s rare to see him actually working, and you’d be lying if you didn’t occasionally wonder if he just pretended to.

Hechuckles, his eyes lifting from the stack of documents as he props his chin on his hand, watching you with that familiar, teasing smile.

“It’s not me you should be asking for permission… that decision lies with her.” He pauses, giving her a fond glance. “You know she has a mind of her own.” You grin, shrugging with a spark of confidence.

“Oh, please—she only acts so aloof because she’s around you,” you tease. “Animals tend to mirror their owners, after all.” He raises a brow, a flicker of amusement in his eyes, though he lets out another soft chuckle, his gaze warm as it lingers on you.

“Fine,” he relents, a playful warning in his voice. “But don’t go running to me if she growls.” You roll your eyes, standing from the sofa and making your way toward the lion.

The first time you met her, you were admittedly a bit nervous—after all, it’s not every day you come face-to-face with a lion—but any hint of fear quickly melted into awe. Her coat is as pristine as freshly fallen snow, her gaze a clear, serene blue like the depths of the ocean.

As you crouch down beside her, you reach out a tentative hand, stopping just before her nose. She sniffs your fingers curiously, then surprises you by licking them before leaning in, her soft fur brushing against your fingertips.

Her fluffy coat is even softer than you imagined, and you can’t resist a small, quiet “Aw” as you scratch the side of her neck. Her eyes half-close, and you feel the gentle vibrations of her purr against your touch.

“See?” You call over your shoulder, unable to hide your grin. “She’s just a big, fluffy kitten.” She leans in closer, enjoying your attention.

He leaning back in his chair with a feigned huff of indifference, “Hmph, don’t get too comfortable now." You can’t help but notice the slight pout in his features as he watches the scene unfold.

She is notorious for growling at him when he tries to get close. And yet here you are, someone who only occasionally visits his office, getting all the affection.

It’s unfair! But there’s also something undeniably heartwarming about it for him. As he watches you, a faint smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. Two of his favorite things, together right before him. If he could freeze this moment, hold onto it, he would.

Time slips by unnoticed as you sit there, nestled against her, your hands combing through her fur. The big kitten has dozed off, her steady breathing and occasional soft purrs filling the quiet room.

You’d intended to move at some point, but every time you lift your hand just an inch away, she lets out a tiny, sleepy whine and nudges closer, demanding more affection. It’s hard to say no to her.

The thought crosses your mind that she really does resemble her owner in some ways. There are rare moments where he gets... needy. Although her insistence on cuddles is much cuter than his endless, persistent begging.

A low, familiar voice pulls you from your thoughts. “I think that’s enough." Arms crossed as he looks down at you, trying to maintain a serious expression.

There’s a slight frown and a hint of jealousy in his gaze. You smirk, raising a brow.

“Oh? I didn’t quite catch that. What was it you said?” You reply, a playful challenge in your tone.

He sighs, running a hand through his hair, and steps closer. “Don’t make me repeat myself, [Name]. I think I’ve given you more than enough time with her.” She stirs, looking up lazily before resettling against you, as if she’s decided you’re staying right where you are.

With a soft chuckle, you glance up at him, “She seems to disagree, General.”

“Well then, I’ll just have to insist." He takes a few steps toward you, but his progress halts when a low, warning growl rumbles from the lion.

He stops in his tracks, momentarily caught off guard, a rare look of surprise flickering across his face.

You chuckle, shaking your head as you tease, “Aw, poor General. Looks like I’m staying here after all—”

Before you can finish, he moves in a flash, sweeping you up in his arms and lifting you away from Snowmoon’s side. His grip is firm, yet gentle, holding you securely against his chest. How can someone who naps so much move with such speed?

She rises and lets out another displeased growl, her tail lashing slightly as she watches you being spirited away from her side. You glance back at him, and it almost feels like a silent battle between a man and his lion.

His arms tighten around you possessively, and he huffs, “[Name] is mine!”

The lion stares for a moment, then flops down with a disgruntled sigh, clearly deciding the effort isn’t worth it.

He chuckles in triumph, settling back in his chair with you still cradled in his lap. Without a moment’s hesitation, he leans in, nuzzling his head against your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin. You shiver, feeling the softness of his hair brushing your cheek.

“Are you actually jealous of her?” you ask, unable to keep the amusement out of your voice.

He pauses, his gaze meeting yours with a glint of playful mischief.

“Jealous? Me?” He lets out a low chuckle, drawing you even closer, his arms tightened around your waist. “Maybe. But can you blame me?” His voice drops to a whisper, lips now close to your ear. “After all, I’d rather be the one keeping you all to myself...”

⋇⊰SUNDAY⊱⋇

“Can I... see your wings, S-Sunday?” you ask, feeling the name catch slightly on your tongue. After all the time you’ve spent calling him ‘My Lord,’ addressing him by name still feels foreign, as if you’re crossing some unspoken line.

His gaze lifts from his desk, and his eyes meet yours, expression unreadable. It's only been a few months since the two of you moved past mere formalities and into something deeper, but sometimes you still feel like a servant asking for a favor rather than a partner making a simple request.

“Pardon?” His tone is calm, yet curious, those small wings behind his ears twitching slightly.

“Your… other wings?” Your voice barely above a whisper. “I-I mean, if it’s alright with you, of course. I wouldn’t want to—” You stop yourself, feeling the awkwardness bubble up, regretting how impulsive your request had been.

He smiles, a faint chuckle escaping his lips as he observes you. “My dear,” he says, his voice soft and soothing, “Never feel shy to ask anything of me.” Slowly, he rises from his desk, each step deliberate as he approaches you. “Whatever you wish, I am yours to command.” There’s a quiet confidence in his steps, his gaze never breaking from yours.

His fingers tilt your chin up slightly, and his eyes soften, lips curling into a smile that always leaves you a little breathless. And as if it were the most natural thing, he shrugs off his coat, draping it neatly on the sofa beside you.

“Uh... w-what are you doing?” You stammer, trying to keep your composure as he slides out of his outer layer with a practiced ease.

“I thought it was clear,” he replies, voice rich with amusement. “You wish to see my wings, yes?” He finishes folding his coat, his gaze never wavering.

In a single, fluid movement, his two hidden pairs of wings unfurl, and you find yourself awestruck at the sight before you. Each feather fades from an ash-blue at the base to a rich midnight hue. That last pair was far darker, the outermost tips tinged in a shadowy, ashen black.

Though darker than expected for a Halovian’s wings, they exude a potent aura—divine, yes, but laced with an undertone of something almost… sinister. It’s mesmerizing and daunting all at once.

As you sit there speechless, he lowers himself onto the edge of the sofa, his thighs bracketing yours, his wings forming a slowly enclosing cocoon around you. His gaze is unwavering, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

“Well?” Voice smooth as butter, his eyes glinting with intrigue. “What do you think?”

“T-They’re… beautiful…” You manage to whisper, captivated by the midnight elegance of his wings.

Almost instinctively, you lift a hand, fingertips itching to trace the delicate lines of his feathers, but you hesitate, unsure if your touch would be welcome.

Noticing your hesitation, his expression softens, and he tilts his head slightly.

“Go on,” he says quietly, a hint of amusement in his tone. “Feel free to touch them.” You reach out, hand trembling just slightly, and your fingers make contact with the nearest feather.

It’s softer than you imagined. You let your hand glide down one of the dark feathers, marveling at the subtle gradient of color and the warmth radiating from his wings.

As your fingertips brush against the soft feathers of his wings, a shudder ripple through him. A low sound escapes his lips, and you glance up, a hint of surprise crossing your face. His grip tightens around the cushion behind you, his knuckles whitening as if he could tear it apart at any moment.

You don’t notice the intensity of the effect your touch has on him, too caught up in the sensation of his wings, twirling your fingers around the delicate feathers.

Halovian wings are known to be sensitive, fragile even. But his wings, especially these two pairs that had been hidden away for a long time, are more so.

They’re darker than most, a reflection of the weight of his past actions, and he’s always kept them concealed, ashamed of what they’ve become.

When you asked to see them, a quiet surge of happiness stirred within him. To have someone, someone he holds so dear, ask to see this part of him… It was something he didn’t expect but longed for. And even more, when you found them beautiful, it filled a void in his heart that had been empty for far too long.

"My dear..." His voice drops a few octaves, darker than usual, as he watches you with half-lidded eyes.

You glance up at him, finally noticing the slight hitch in his breath, the flush creeping across his features. A sudden wave of concern floods you, and you start to open your mouth to ask if you’ve hurt him in any way.

But before you can speak, he leans in, his lips crashing onto yours in a kiss that is anything but gentle. His hands move to cradle your face, pulling you closer as the kiss deepens, his wings fluttering slightly

You’ve always known Sunday to be a gentleman, always composed, always polite. But you had also know that there’s a side of him that’s far more… chaotic. His kiss is desperate, hungry, as though he’s been holding back for too long.

The moment his lips part, the air around you seems to grow thicker, charged with an unspoken tension. His breath, warm and steady, brushes against your skin as his voice, barely a whisper, slips from his mouth.

"My dear... do you wish to see something more.. pleasing?"

Request» Masterlist»

#honkai star rail #hsr x reader #hsr blade #blade x reader #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #dan heng hsr #dan heng x reader #dr ratio hsr #dr ratio x reader #jiaoqiu hsr #jiaoqiu x reader #jing yuan hsr #jing yuan x reader #sunday hsr #sunday x reader #hsr headcanons

555 notes · View notes

astrocafecoffee · 4 months ago

Text

Astro observation (part 2)

✨ For entertainment purposes only, enjoy ✨

✨ MASTERLIST

✨ ASTRO OBS. (PART 1)

🔥 Taurus sun individuals usually eat slowly and savor their food enjoying each bite. They dislike being rushed during meals.

🔥 Sagittarius rising peoples thrive on variety in their excercise routine. They might regularly switch between different types of workouts to keep things interesting.

🔥 Capricorn rising peoples might enjoy dishes like roasted meats , stews and well balanced meals that provide both comfort and nourishment.

🔥 Sagittarius sun - very good in mathematics and calculation.

🔥 Groom conjunct your vertex/ Hera asteroid in draconic synastry can indicate they being your spouse/ you have a soul tie with them.

🔥 I have seen many Libra 12th house peoples often have people pleasing tendencies and have problems with creating healthy boundaries.

🔥 11th House mars people's communication style with friends can be direct and assertive, which can sometimes come across as agressive if not managed carefully.

🔥 Mercury in its debilitated sign ( Pisces) individuals may struggle with tasks that require precision, detailed analysis or strict logic.

🔥 I have seen when someone's 9th lord in their 12th house or vice versa , they often marry people from other states, cultures, and countries .

🔥 Aries moons can be quick to anger but also quick to forgive and forget.

🔥 juno in 7th house of Groom persona chart means your fs is your wish fulfilment, ( dreams come true 👀)

🔥 Virgo placements may excel in stock market.

🔥 Aries placements tend to tackle problems head on with immediate action. They prefer to address issues rather than letting them linger or escalate.

🔥 water placements are obsessed with beaches and coastal environments , where Earth signs with mountains.

🔥 I have also seen this many water placements either love water areas or hate it. There's no in between. I have seen cancer moons/ Pisces rising peoples having thalassophobia.

🔥 in Vedic astrology, Rahu in 7th house / rahu conjunct Venus/ rahu conjunct 7th lord indicates foreign spouse.

🔥 Webb asteroid in natal 11th house is self explanatory 🙃.

🔥 prey Asteroid ( 6157) in 4th house individuals often see their home as refuge where they can shield themselves from outside world. If it's negative side manifests in someone's life then there might be themes of feeling vulnerable or taking advantage within the family and home environment.

🔥 Gemini placements individuals are often misunderstood by peoples.

🔥 cancer moons emotional up and downs can weaken their immune system , making them more vulnerable to infections.

🔥 Scorpio placements likes to feel in control of their surroundings and emotions and they fear situations where they feel powerless.

🔥 Aquarius mars peoples value their independence highly and can be quite stubborn about doing things their way.

🔥 Jupiter in Aquarius people may involved in activism , volunteering or supporting charitable organisations.

🔥water moons , Capricorn placements often prone to depression.

🔥 Venus in Capricorn peoples may fear being vulnerable or getting hurt , which is why they often appear guarded more in relationships.

🔥 Aries mars often have fear of rejection . If they sense any hint of rejection they might quickly pull back or move on to avoid facing their fear.

🔥Pluto in Sagittarius peoples maybe fascinated by esoteric subjects, occult and hidden truths. This interest in the mystical and unknown can lead them to explore astrology, tarot or other metaphysical studies.

🔥 Asteroid Medusa conjunct midheaven in natal chart means this individual's career may dealing with controversial and taboo subjects , leading to transformation and growth. They could work in fields related to psychology, healing, crisis management or any area that requires confronting difficult truths.

🔥 Asteroid Born conjunct juno in synastry suggest a relationship that feels spiritually significant , with a strong sense of being " meant to be" or karmic linked.

🔥 Hera asteroid conjunct sun in synastry means the Hera person might view the sun person as an ideal partner, seeing them as someone can commit to for the long term . This aspect can indicate a relationship that has potential to lead to marriage or a deep , committed relationship.

Thanks for reading 🖤

- piko ✨

957 notes · View notes

fiber-optic-alligator · 10 months ago

Note

Hello! I’ve always been curious about the “human in a space shuttle somehow ends up on a cybertronian ship and all the bots are trying to figure out what this random metal this is while the human is terrified” plot.

It would be interesting to see it played out with any character, but for the sake of direction, I’d like to request this with the Lost Light Crew?

It could be vore if that’s what you feel like wrong at the time, but I’d also go for some good ‘ol fearplay.

I apologize if this is too vague, have a good day/night and I love your writing!

Thank you for the request Glitch! I hope this is up to your expectations! I hope you don't mind that I picked specific members of the Lost Light crew to include in this story. Feedback is always appreciated! Have a great day/night as well! :D

Doctor’s (And Scientist’s) Orders

Pairing: IDW Ratchet, IDW Perceptor, and IDW First Aid x Human Reader

Word Count: 3115

Summary: You are a teacher who is being sent from Earth to a colony on Mars. A new life as an educator for the red planet’s children is on your horizon…until you are thrown terribly off course and end up in the bowels of the Lost Light. All seems lost for you when you find yourself injured and cut off from human society, at the mercy of the three Cybertronians who end up finding you and taking you in, whether you want them to or not.

The first thing you hear when you come to is the horrid screeching of your ship's alarms.

You groan and sit up. Smoke and flickering emergency lights greet you when you open your eyes. Electricity sparks from the stasis tank you were asleep in. Gas spurts from the ceiling, and everything is strewn about with the chaotic air of a tornado that just tore through an entire town.

“Warning,” your ship’s AI urgently alerts. “Breach detected. Damage is collateral. Warning-warning-” It sputters and fizzles out.

You rub the back of your head and feel something warm and sticky coat your palm. When you pull your hand back to take a closer look, you see blood.

Shit. That’s not good.

Standing up makes you feel like you are going to puke. Your head throbs and every breath you take sends piercing pain through your chest. Dragging yourself out of the stasis pod takes longer than it should while black spots dot your vision as you stumble to the dashboard and press your hands against it. “Run ship diagnostics,” you manage to rasp. The voice that struggles to exit your mouth is one you hardly recognize. It is thin and strewn with violent coughs. A metallic taste coats your tongue. More blood.

The AI glitches as it attempts to answer you. “Severe damage to hull. Severe damage to engines. Severe damage to thrusters. Life support online, but rapidly depleting. Escape pod offline.”

“Shit,” you breathe. “Try contacting Earth control.”

“Communications systems offline. Attempting self-repairs. Current status…5%.”

“How long until repairs are complete?”

“Estimations indicate repairs will be completed in…5 days.”

Not good. Not good at all. You push yourself away from the dashboard and take in all that has happened. This was not how the mission was supposed to go. When you were chosen to be sent to Earth’s Mars colony as a teacher for the young children growing up on the red planet, you thought it would be a smooth seven month trip with you peacefully slumbering away in stasis. You were supposed to be woken up by fellow human beings, not a devastating crash resulting in your ship being decimated. Something must have thrown you off course. A freak asteroid strike probably. Which begs the question…where exactly are you?

Ignoring how much pain you are in, you hobble through the remains of the vessel and head for the airlock doors. They remain tightly shut when you make it to them, hiding the knowledge of where you are from view. “Open the doors,” you call out to the ship.

“Warning. Remaining onboard is strongly recommended. Current exterior environment is unknown.”

“Override. Open the doors.”

The doors whoosh apart. You know there’s oxygen outside. If there hadn’t been, the ship would have prevented you from even entering the airlock chamber in the first place. Stepping off, you expect to see the barren landscape of Mars, or the alien environment of some other planet you might have ended up on. Part of you thinks you might still be on Earth; perhaps something went wrong with the ship before you could even break the Troposphere.

What you see surprises you. You are in some sort of…massive cargo hold.

Gigantic metal crates surround you, most of them exuding a pinkish glow. There are lights on the ceiling far above you, but they are dim, and serve little aid in giving you an estimate of just how large this place is. Turning in a circle, you feel awe fill you. “Yeah,” you murmur to yourself. “The ship definitely didn’t crash on Mars.”

Speaking of your ship…you take in the damage. It's an absolute mess of warped, crippled metal doomed to remain collapsed on its side until self-repairs are complete. It would take days, maybe even weeks, for damage of this caliber to be fixed beyond the communications systems. With no way to contact Earth or Mars, you truly are stuck.

You close your eyes and pinch the bridge of your nose. Calm. You are calm. There is absolutely nothing to worry about. Yes, your ship is destroyed. Yes, you are suffering from critical wounds. Yes, you are in an unknown place with seemingly no way out. But you're alive. That’s what matters. And now you just have to survive for five more days.

You hear thumping in the distance.

It takes you a moment to register the pattern of heavy steps that are coming towards you. It’s something alive, you realize with dawning horror. Wherever you are, you have obviously made quite a racket, and now this planet’s local faunal residents are going to seek you out. There’s no way for you to know exactly what sorts of animals live here; any technology you might have used to your advantage is directly connected to the ship. With the ship offline, thus go the tools as well. You are completely in the dark, relying only on the little information about alien lifeforms you have to keep you safe.

You don’t need that information to know you have to hide right now.

You scurry back into the ship, biting back a shout of pain. God, there’s pain everywhere. How have you not passed out yet? Adrenaline does wonders for the human body, you sourly think to yourself when you have to lean against the wall to catch your breath. A hacking cough swells within your chest. When you cover your mouth with your elbow and release it, blood is splattered over your suit sleeve.

That’s when you hear the growling.

It’s unlike anything you have ever heard before. You’ve studied a multitude of animals. You’ve heard big cats roar, wolves howl, hyenas cackle, and birds screech. This is not a growl you can associate with any of those. It…holds similar qualities. But there’s something about it that remains blatantly off.

It sounds strangely like the growl of a machine.

You look outside of the airlock doors, and something huge lumbers out from behind a stack of crates. The first things your brain registers are its red and white armor platings, its bright blue eyes, and the horn-like finials extending from its forehead. It’s humanoid, yet possesses qualities that remove it from any such grouping. This thing is definitely not like you in any sort of way beyond having a face and walking on two legs.

“It’s…a robot,” you whisper. It’s a giant fucking robot moving all on its own, and looking none too happy to be here.

The mechanical creature snarls, lips upturning to reveal sharp canines that are probably longer than your arms. It hasn’t noticed you yet. Its focus is trained on the datapad it holds in its hands. Your mind is blown. This is obviously a member of a clearly intelligent race. Have you just discovered a new extraterrestrial species?

The robot looks up. At first, its eyes scan the crates around you, and it doesn't seem to notice the little ship nestled between them. You remain still, prey instinct taking its course and demanding you freeze where you are. Hopefully it will just move on…

It backtracks, and to your utter horror, it makes direct eye contact with you.

Fucking shit, you think.

The robot stares at you with an expression of pure shock. You stare right back with an equal amount of terror.

It steps towards you. That’s all it takes for you to scream at the ship. “Close the airlock doors! Close them now!”

The doors slam shut. You hear a shout from the robot, and everything shakes as it thunders forward. You stumble and fall with agony ripping through your poor body when you make contact with the floor. The cry that leaves you is riddled with pain.

“A-Activate self-defense protocol!” you order the ship.

“Self-defense protocols offline,” it says back.

“Well, how long until they are online?!”

“Estimated time equals…ten hours.”

“That’s not enough!” you scream rawly.

A gentle tapping echos from the other side of the doors.

You push yourself back, heart pounding as you listen to the robot move all around you. It’s growling softly to itself, and you can hear it touching the ship, running massive mechanical fingers across the walls that act as the only barrier between you and potential doom.

You don’t know what to do. Panic makes you frantic and you desperately try to think of how you can get yourself away from the monster outside. You have no way to defend yourself. You can’t even run. This thing wants you out, and you know it has the power to rip your ship apart in order to get to you if it wishes for it.

Suddenly, everything rocks. Your stomach drops when the entire ship shakes and you feel it being lifted into the air. Realization of what is happening hits you: it’s picking it up. If it can’t get you, it’ll just have to take everything.

“Nononono!” you cry out. The ship tips a little, and you slam into a wall with a grunt. “Stop!” You bang your fists against the metal. “Put it down! Put it down now!”

The robot simply growls in reply. You don’t even know if it hears you. There’s nothing you can do to stop this. You slump back and cover your face as hot, helpless tears finally begin running down your cheeks.

“What exactly is it?” First Aid asks as he peers down at the mangled hunk of metal sitting before them on the medibay berth.

“It’s a ship,” Perceptor flatly replies with a silent “What else would it be?” evident in his tone.

“This is a ship?” First Aid looks horrified. “But it's completely destroyed! How could it have gotten here?”

“It must have crashed during our last refueling.” Perceptor lays his servos over the top of the ship, examining it closely. He huffs and straightens, looking at Ratchet. “Where did you find it?”

“The cargo hold,” the medic replies. “I was down there searching for some extra medical supplies I know we have stored. I wouldn’t have seen it if it hadn’t been for what’s inside.”

“There’s something alive in there?” First Aid gasps.

“A human,” Ratchet replies. “It locked itself inside when it saw me.”

“Impossible.” Perceptor shakes his helm. “Humans are an endangered species that only occupy a small sector of a primitive solar system. They don’t have the technology to make it this far out in space.”

“Well, clearly they do. I know what I saw. These old optics aren’t that far gone.” Ratchet raps his knuckles gently against the ship. All three mechs have to lean in close so they can hear the soft squeak from inside.

“How do we get it out?” First Aid asks. “It could be hurt!”

“It is hurt,” Ratchet answers. “I saw it before it hid itself away. I don’t know how severe the injuries are, but I know it's in pain.”

“Then what are we waiting for? We need to help it!” First Aid presses his forehelm against the ship and whispers softly. “Hello, little human? Please don’t be afraid! We aren’t going to hurt you!”

A whimper is all he gains in reply.

Perceptor crosses his arms. “I can force it out, but you won’t like how I do it.”

“You can’t hurt it,” Ratchet sharply snaps. “That would be cruel.”

“I’m not going to hurt it,” the scientist bites back. “I’m simply going to pump a nontoxic gas into the ship that will cause it to eventually lose consciousness. It will have no choice but to come out, and then we can go on from there.”

“Are…are you sure?” First Aid wrings his servos nervously. “I don’t want it to be scared of us.”

“Whether it’s scared of us or not doesn’t matter,” Ratchet says. “It’s injured, and if we don’t do something, it’ll succumb to those injuries. It’ll understand we don’t want to hurt it after we patch it up.” He nods to Perceptor. “Go ahead, smoke it out.”

The scientist’s right servo transforms into a syringe. Ratchet watches with anxiousness churning in his tank as Perceptor presses his left index digit against the side of the ship and presses a small hole straight through with little resistance to stop him. A terrified shout from the human within causes First Aid to whimper.

Perceptor sticks the upper part of the syringe into the hole, pumping gas into the ship and pulling it back out after a moment, wisps of vapor trailing from the tip. A few seconds later Ratchet hears a string of weak coughs from inside. There is a tense moment where all three of them stand there, and then the doors open and you stumble out with a cloud of gas nearly enveloping your tiny form. You wheeze into your servos, then notice the mechs staring at you and try sprinting right back into the ship. Perceptor cuts you off, slamming his servo down and pinning you under his digits before dragging you back even though you yelp and thrash. You squirm one last time in his grip before suddenly going limp.

Perceptor gently shifts you to lie in the center of his palm. For a terrifying moment, Ratchet thinks you are offline when he sees how still you are with your optics closed. But then his sensors pick up on the rapid beating of your organic spark, and he relaxes. Not dead. Just simply unconscious.

“Give it here.” He holds out a waiting servo. Perceptor hands you over; you are given a quick look-over as Ratchet scans your body. There is a nasty cut on the back of your helm, and your vents are gravely bruised with terrible red marks. “Internal bleeding,” he mutters. “As well as external wounds. The crash really messed it up.” He curls his digits lightly over you and brushes his thumb over your forehead. “Doesn’t have a fever though, which is good. Damage is minimal, nothing life threatening. I can have it fixed in a few hours.”

“You know how to heal organics?” First Aid questions.

“I’ve been around for a long time. War changes you. I’ve had my equal share of saving Decepticon-ravaged planets inhabited by organics as well as machines.” Ratchet walks over to another berth, being careful not to jostle you too much. “First Aid, go grab the restrainers. We’ll have to keep it still so it doesn’t accidentally hurt itself when it wakes up.”

“You’ll have to keep it sedated too,” Perceptor says. “I can help with that. Just a little puff of the gas will keep it asleep.”

“Thank you,” Ratchet says, then pauses. “Listen. Don’t tell anyone about this yet. I don’t want everyone flocking into the medibay and stressing it out. We could accidentally scare this thing to death if we aren’t careful.”

“I won’t.” Perceptor nods. “Just…make sure it heals properly. I don’t doubt your expertise, but…” He looks down at you, and his optics soften. “It hurts my spark to see something so small in so much pain.”

First Aid returns with the restrainer. It’s a small mechanism that runs on magnetic power, created by the Lost Light’s resident mad scientist, Brainstorm himself. Ratchet places it directly over your lax form. With a quiet beep, it presses lightly over your midsection, and magnetic bindings weigh down your ankles and wrists. Seeing you trapped like this makes him feel guilty. This obviously isn’t going to be something you will like when you wake up. But there’s no other way for this to go. You won’t understand his good intentions until he heals you. Until then, he has to keep you still.

He grabs a small serum of glowing blue liquid and bends over you, gently pinching your little fleshy cheeks and working your intake open. “C’mon little one, drink up,” he whispers when he carefully forces the liquid down your throat. He sees your faceplate tighten with discomfort, but your throat pulses as you subconsciously swallow. “There you go. Good human, good human.”

“What are you giving it?” First Aid asks.

“Something I learned to make back in my early days,” he replies. “It heals from the inside. Works on both organics and machines.” He pats your cheeks praisingly and draws away. “There. That should help with the bleeding. It’ll be fine now. I’ll continue to monitor it over the next few days.”

First Aid exhales a relieved sigh. Perceptor reaches out a tentative hand and brushes your hair away from your closed optics. “It’s so small…so soft…”

“We have to be careful with it,” First Aid frets. “We don’t want it to break.”

“Listen.” Ratchet’s tone hardens authoritatively. “I said this before, but I’ll say it again. We have to keep this between the three of us. Don’t tell anyone about a human being in here.”

“But what about the captain?” First Aid asks. “Shouldn’t he know?”

“The captain can’t know. If he finds out there's a human on the ship, he’ll go nuts with excitement and probably end up accidentally crushing the poor thing. Until I confirm it’s not going to drop dead at any moment, we keep it a secret. Got it?”

Both bots nod. Ratchet nods with them. “Alright. I’m going to stay here and make sure it’s condition remains stable. You can come back tomorrow to check in on it and see how it’s doing.”

Perceptor dips his head and leaves without another word. First Aid lingers, optics never leaving you.

“It’ll be fine,” Ratchet reassures him. “I’ll take care of it. Go recharge.”

It takes a lot for the other medic to step back and exit the medibay. Ratchet watches him go, then sighs and drags a servo over his faceplate. Becoming the caretaker of an injured organic lifeform was not something he had planned for today. Primus, how the hell am I going to tell Rodimus?

A soft noise drags his attention away from the alarming thought of what might happen if the extroverted captain learns about his new “crewmate.” He looks down at you and startles a bit. Your eyes, foggy and unfocused, are staring right at him. There’s a fatigued expression of utter terror on your face that once again has his spark feeling like it's been ripped from his chassis and stomped on.

“You’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. “I promise.”

You close your eyes and let your helm loll to the side. Ratchet watches the soft rise and fall of your chassis for a few moments longer, then dims the medibay lights and returns to his previous work on the other side of the room.

Never do you stray far from his mind.

1K notes · View notes

atrologynuances · 5 months ago

Text

astrology observations pt 3

these are based on personal observations as well as acquired knowledge from books, websites, and other observation posts.

(some of these are brutally honest and some are very very general)

all signs included!!

⚜️ aries mercury are the type of people whose intelligence you don’t hear because their voice is too loud. oftentimes they’re described as hardheaded or bold when in reality they’re the reality check not everyone is ready to cash out. they’re also fairly messy, too many thoughts with no clear direction.

⚜️ aries men make for irresponsible fathers. the ones that are present but in reality they aren’t.

⚜️ libra placements can be very charming! however, this charm can become obnoxious and overstimulating very fast.

⚜️ I never hear anyone talk about how beautiful the eyes of scorpio risings are!! not only captivating and mysterious but they look like they hold the weight of the world in them and with that comes the secrets of manipulating you without you ever finding out. like an online library with an organized database and when they look for your name there, they know all your secrets.

⚜️ talking about scorpio risings, do any of you have weird experiences while you sleep? sleepwalking, sleep talking, people being scared of you when you’re sleeping?

⚜️ natives with north node in the 4th might have more conflicts at home when they find a full time job. it is hard to find a balance between the home and work life. this is more prominent if the north node is aspecting a malefic planet.

⚜️ a specific placement that will love their pet like a mother loves their baby is moon in the 6th!

⚜️ natives with pluto in the 10th house have to change jobs often because their coworkers subconsciously feel these people are overqualified for the job and envy them or envy how fast they were able to get promoted so they start hating on them. this creates a tense energy within the workplace making the pluto native to just quit the job and move onto the next. I find that there is nothing a pluto in the 10th house can’t master.

⚜️ natives with chiron in the 11th house attract friends with the same sun sign chiron is sitting on. this might be true with other chiron placements but it is especially true with chiron in the 11th. the sun sign person will bring challenges and leave the chiron native in the cold. the sun person also tends to belittle the chiron person a lot, thinking they are better than them.

⚜️ most taurus women have long torsos and short legs. I find that they’re also more prone to getting plastic surgery or cosmetic procedures. also, they have a very standardized beauty, like they don’t have a specific feature that sticks out, their face just blends together very prettily to the eye. i’ve also noticed they like gold or gold colored jewelry.

⚜️ gemini risings have gapped teeth. they also tend to have a bigger head than the rest of their body and be on the skinnier side. one thing i’ve noticed is that their energy feels light and familiar but also unknown. like a new friend whose vibes you like but you don’t really know much about them.

⚜️ unevolved gemini moons have a need to be liked by people; they want to feel and be included. in general, when you hear about them from other people they sound mean and intimidating, but when you get to know them they’re actually pretty cool to talk to. they also make for great listeners, and will have you saying things you wouldn’t have confessed to other people as easily or fast lol.

⚜️ sagittarius mercuries are story tellers! what I love about them is they know how to identify the interesting points with the ones that aren’t so their story is always fun to listen to. the thing with them is they’ll tell you the same story multiple times lol.

⚜️ I have personally noticed that cancer mars MEN are more likely to commit domestic violence. this is a very broad accusation I know. it is just an observation i’ve made with celebrities and men with this placement around me. they tend to act out on their current emotions. on the other hand, cancer mars women are veryyyy passive aggressive lol.

⚜️ venus in leo always attract people that get them better jobs, better deals on something or an upgrade of some sort lol. or they tend to be in good terms with a superior which later helps them get promoted.

⚜️ virgo mars are hard workers!!! I love love love this mars sign. they can come off as know it alls sometimes but sometimes they do know it all lol. a lot of actual life experience. they’re the ones you should call if you’re looking for a job, because they always know of a place that is hiring lol. if you ever need something done efficiently, call a virgo mars! not only are they willing to do it, keep if between you two, but they also do it well! three for one deal.

⚜️ a lot of capricorns make bad friends. they’re not the type to embarrass you in front of people type of bad friend, I find that brings embarrassment to them as well and they can’t have that. they are the type to belittle you throughout the friendship to check off their competition list though lol.

⚜️ aquariuses fall in love with their friends a lot! even when they are in a relationship, they still fall in love with other people. they’re very individualistic and if they think being with someone else will bring them happiness they will pursue that without caring about their current situation. that’s why they’re more prone to “sleep around” lol.

⚜️ pisces risings daydream a lot, sometimes they’re ashamed of how far they go when daydreaming. also, pisces risings might look like they’re on cloud nine, but nine times out of ten, they read the room before stepping a foot in it. i’ve also noticed that sometimes they act gullible just to see how others react to it. like you think you’re manipulating them but they’re the ones manipulating you by letting you think they’re actually getting manipulated lol.

guide

#astrology #astrology observations #astro observations #astrologynuances #cancer #pisces #leo #libra #gemini #saggitarius #capricorn #age of aquarius #aquarius #taurus #aries #virgo #scorpio #moon #planets

948 notes · View notes

facioleeknow · 5 months ago

Text

The art of pleasure ch.3

Mars ° Seo Changbin

When one girl in your class makes fun of you for being a virgin at a party, you are left distraught. It’s only natural that you decide to whine about it to your best friend, Bang Chan; but he does more than lending a shoulder to cry on, he comes up with a solution. He and his 7 friends will help you and teach you all about the pleasure of the flesh. What could go wrong?

Genre: College AU, SMUT 18+ ONLY wc: 1.4k+

Warnings: fraternity skz, inexperienced reader, experienced changbin, oral m receiving, fancy dinner, alcohol mention, rich changbin, car sex in a way, coke can cock changbin

Chris-py boy <3:

How was it? Did he treat you well?

Damn he got you good mh

Are you alive?

Y/N????

I’m coming over

The activities with Minho had left you exhausted, both physically and mentally. Trying new things had always been tiring for you and paired with the physical tiredness, it wasn’t a surprise that you passed out as soon as you came home from the little date you two had. Minho had been kind and gentle through the whole date, his behavior perfectly gentlemanly. The words and touches and words you shared had left a warm feeling inside your belly that expanded and cradled you to sleep quickly. So you weren’t even a tad bit surprised when you woke up still with your clothes on, on top of your bed, what did surprise you was the arm that was around your shoulders and the warm chest your head laid on. An inhuman scream ripped from your throat.

“Why are you screaming?” a familiar voice.

“Why am I screaming? Why the hell are you here Chris??” you tried to pull yourself together, he was your best friend but he was still a hot guy in your bed.

“I texted you but you didn’t answer, I got worried.” You laid your head on him once again, your cheek squished against his hard body.

“Everything went well. Minho was very nice and kind,” you paused, thinking how to phrase your next thought, “he seems pretty skilled, if you know what I mean.” Thankfully he wasn’t looking at you, because he would’ve seen a look of pure embarrassment.

“He is, once we shared and the girl couldn’t stop talking about what he could do with his mouth,” Chan said nonchalantly, that man really had no shame.

“You have shared girls before me? And here I was thinking I was special,” you half joked.

“You are, we usually don’t invite the girls for ice cream after we fuck,” he giggled.

“Yeah alright mister playboy, get out of my room, I need sleep.”

The start of the week was always chaotic, but after your little weekend treat it seemed even worse than usual. Lessons had been so hard and draining that the only thing you could do once you got back to your room was study and sleep. When you woke up to start another day the cycle continued. Lessons, study, sleep. By the time Thursday rolled around you needed a long awaited break.

Unknown number:

Hey, this is Changbin

I was wondering if I could take you out tonight and then have our lesson

The repeated pings from your phone broke the atmosphere of focus and desperation that filled the room.

‘Shit the lessons, I forgot,’ you thought.

You:

Hey Changbin

Yes, tonight works for me, do you have a place in mind??

Changbin:

It's a surprise eheh, wear something fancy

See you tonight

The secrecy was killing you. The books were quickly pushed aside to make space for new more pressing matters. Suddenly your wardrobe felt empty and nothing looked good on you. You hated fashion emergencies.

By the time you had pulled yourself together, it was time to leave. Changbin was already waiting for you in front of your dorm, in a black expensive looking car.

“Hey, thank you for picking me up,” you greeted as soon as you got inside. He looked absolutely breathtaking. Black slacks and a white button up hugged his muscles in all the right places, his sleeves were rolled over your forearms so deliciously that you almost asked him to skip the dinner. Almost.

“I couldn't let a lady walk alone in the dark,” Changing offered you a smile before driving away. Seeing the world from inside a stupidly expensive car was a whole new experience, so good that you spent the whole journey gawking out of the window. You felt almost sad when the car stopped in front of a restaurant that looked too expensive to exist.

In a matter of seconds Changbin was at your door opening it for you.

“Thank you.”

After helping you out, Changbin gently placed his warm hand on the small of your back, giving you enough time to push him away. You didn't, it was comforting, you liked the feeling of his hands on your body.

The inside of the restaurant was even more dashing, everything tied together beautifully. You felt out of place but at home at the same time thanks to the man at your side. Your thoughts swirled and filled your head so much that you only realized that you had arrived at your table when Changbin gently pushed a glass of champagne against your hand.

“To you and how beautiful you look tonight,” he raised his glass.

“Thank you for all of this Changbin.” Your glasses clinked together.

Changbin was funny and respectful on top of being stupid hot. He made you laugh and the dinner passed in a blur of exquisite food and teary laughs.

“I had a good time tonight.” Unlike the last time you were in the car you were looking straight into his eyes..

“I'm glad, I didn't know if it was too much, I didn't want to overwhelm you,” he chuckled, that small and cute chuckle that only Changing could make.

“Every girl wants to be pampered like that, I assure you. You didn't have to pay tho, I feel bad.”

“Don't worry, money is not a problem for me.” He laid his hand on your thigh. During the dinner the volume of your laughs wasn't the only thing growing, your pussy was absolutely drenched and you couldn't help but rub your legs together every once in a while.

“Changbin, I want to touch you.” You didn't care if you sounded desperate, you didn't care if you sounded petulant. You need him, you were going to die if you didn't have his dick in your mouth in the next five minutes.

“Are you sure? Is that what you want to do today?” he tucked a small strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yes, please can I touch you?” he didn't answer but pressed your hand directly on his bulge. He felt hard and warm. You wasted no time in opening up his pants and tugging them down with his underwear, you don't know what over you but all shyness was thrown out the window replaced by intense burning desire.

His cock was exactly like him, not the longest but deliciously thick, so much that you knew your jaw would ache the next day.

“Don't worry baby, I'll guide you through it. Do what feels comfortable,” his words spurred you on and you reached down to wrap your hand around him. His skin felt hot and soft, it turned you on. In a second your mouth was on him. Small kitten licks were placed all around his girth.

“Just like that baby, enjoy yourself,” Changbin assured you with a breathy voice.

You liked the taste of him, it was intoxicating, you wanted more. The sides of your mouth stretched and burned when you took him into your mouth. The weight of his cock on your tongue felt welcome and you moaned at the sensation which sent Changbin into his own series of whimpers.

“Touch my balls pretty.” You complied without having to be told twice.

His balls were big and round, perfect to feel in your hands and to play with. Your head bobbed mercilessly up and down while you felt around his sack.

“God baby, I'm so wound up, I think I'm gonna cum.” You moaned again, trying to tell him that you needed it, you needed his release down your throat like you needed air. But taking your mouth off his dick was not an option, so you just sped up your ministrations. Wet sound from your throat and hand filled the car and pushed Changbin over the edge.

“Pretty, you sound so-” a long, breathy moan cut his sentence in the middle and his warm release shot down your throat.

His muscles finally relaxed and he fully laid against the car seat, he was beautiful and the fact that you had the power to make him a breathy mess was even more beautiful.

“Come here,” he grabbed the back of your neck and placed a gentle, affectionate kiss on your lips.

“Remember, real men kiss women after they cum in their mouths.”

“I will,” you giggled. Silence fell on you two. Changbin’s chest rose and fell slowly, he was happy and so were you. His hand lightly caressed your face.

“How about a second date?”

#kpop #reader insert #stray kids #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #changbin #changbin x reader #changbin smut #seo changbin #seo changbin x reader #seo changbin smut

442 notes · View notes

fushipurro · 5 months ago

Text

The Nature of Depravity

Masterlist

☆ Synopsis: You were an angel, a saint, one of the most profound icons worshipped by mortal kind. There wasn’t a soul in paradise or the fire below that didn’t know your name. It seemed that everywhere you went, you left behind a trail of all things good.

You were one of the best heaven had to offer ─ up until the day you fell from grace and into the hands of a sinner.

☆ Content: 18+ MDNI, AU - fantasy, religious imagery, mentions of blood/violence, implied murder, biting, creampie, scratching, p in v, foreplay, angst, everyone's bad at feelings, true form sukuna, tonguefucking, loss of virginity

☆ Word Count: 10.7k

It wasn’t like one day you woke up and decided to rebel against the heavenly utopia.Rather, it happened like any other day while you were making your rounds to several war-torn villages recently burnt to ash. You sought to aid in the recovery of those lucky to survive, but unbeknownst to you at the time, a group of demons were awaiting your arrival.

With one precise throw, they managed to impale one of your wings with iron weaponry, effectively knocking you from the sky. From there, everything that followed seemed to happen in the blink of an eye, and the next thing you knew, you found yourself here ─ bound in chains, brought before the King of Demons.

Ryomen Sukuna.

Otherwise known as the Fallen, or the Disgraced One, Sukuna was once a proud angel of similar status to your own. It’s unknown how his departure from Heaven came to be. Some claim that he was the bastard child of an unholy couple, while others claim he was never an angel to begin with ─ merely a forked-tongue creature living under the guise of your virtuous ways. At the end of the day, he shed his wings and took over the hellfire realm with unyielding strength.

You stand before him, trapped to an iron pole that burns you to the touch. The metal rod from earlier still marring your wing ─ no doubt broken as it lays flat at your side, oozing with golden, angelic blood.

“What do we have here?” The voice of king stretches across the room, inciting the demons that brought you here to bow in his presence. Something you already have no choice but to do. The intense pain and your lack of energy from the earlier fight affects you greatly now, killing any hope of refusal.

“My lord, we’ve capture this angel we now offer to you.”

“That much is obvious,” Sukuna responds coldly, rolling his eyes. He presses a bored fist to temple. “So what? You’ve come here seeking something from me, haven’t you? Go on, spit it out.”

The demon at your side sputters with nerves before another takes over, “This is no ordinary angel we’ve brought you,” he says, stating your name to the demon king, “We desire your protection, and means for our survival. Our families are poor and struggling to keep those foul humans out of our land.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then the sound of a cruel laughter meant to mock the demons uttering such filth.

“My lord?”

“Quiet,” he commands with no such amusement from moments ago. “If you’re too weak to fight then you deserve to lay down and die. Your kind is meant to be chewed up by the strong.”

“But Sir–“

A flick of his finger, and blood sprays out in all directions, some of its droplets even landing across your face. In the next second, that demon’s head rolls into view. The others behind you gasp in fear, a few even daring to step back only to meet the same demise.

“You’d do well to remember that everything you have belongs to me. Your homes, your land, your lives.” He laughs again. “All of it belongs to your one true king. Now get out of my sight before I change my mind on letting the rest of you live.”

The demons leave in a hurry, and all that remains is both you and the devil.

Sukuna approaches you slowly, like a predator cornering their prey, uncaring that he has to cross a puddle of black demon blood to reach you. With two fingers, he lifts you by your chin, allowing you to drink in the sight of someone who used to be just like you.

Black ink binds to his skin, visible across the expanse of his body from what you can make out. With four arms, and a set of eyes growing from the side of his face, he’s the textbook definition of a demon by human standards. But as an angel, well… you’ve seen more unique creations in the first sphere of your celestial hierarchy. Different doesn’t always have to mean repulsive.

“Such a pathetic sight,” he murmurs, moving your head as though you’re a fruit being examined for its quality. “A broken, pitiful excuse of an angel in my domain.” A grin appears on his face, ripe with his malevolent nature. “How the so-called mighty continue to fall.”

You should bite back. You should be saying something, anything to defend heaven from the one who for whatever reason forsake it, leaving it all behind to become the enemy of virtue. Yet, you’re unable to come up with anything like all your peers would.

Sukuna appears to be studying your expression carefully, finding himself perplexed by your lack of animosity.

“You’re not afraid?” he asks with a hint of curiosity, though his face remains neutral.

“Should I be?” you respond, and without much thought or consideration for the position you’re in. He could do whatever he wants with you, and it would as easy as it is for him to take a life.

He laughs again, letting it echo throughout the throne room.

“Most creatures tremble in fear before me. You even got to see what happens to those who annoy me.” He pauses, revealing sharpened fangs as his grows wide. “And yet, you ask me if you should be afraid. Well, I think the answer is quite obvious, don’t you agree?”

“If it is my fate to die by your hands, then so be it.” As you tell him those words, you feel your strength slipping. The weight of your head sinking deeper into his touch. Even your sight is starting to cloud with black spots.

“Fate? Hah! Don’t make me laugh.” He leans down, mere inches from your face. “You’re just like the rest of your kin, always preaching the gospel of a false king. Your paradise is nothing but a garden of lies.”

You can’t help but wonder from Sukuna’s words what happened to birth such hatred for your shared homeland.

“Being scared would do me no good. In my current state, I pose no threat to you,” you point out. “What reason do I have to fight you?”

He scoffs, “There’s a war going on, and you and I are on opposite sides.”

“That’s never mattered to me.”

He clicks his tongue, swapping the fingers under your jaw with his whole hand. His nails dig into your cheeks, but you can hardly feel it. You can hardly feel anything but coldness.

“I understand if it’s my time; do as you will with me.”

“You speak as if your life holds no value.” He seems to be evaluating you again, tracing his lower set of eyes across your broken wing with scrutiny in his gaze. The other two remain locked with yours. “I wonder if your dear paradise would even allow your return… you may as well be one of the fallen now.”

His words barely register before everything goes black and you succumb to the darkness swelling around your form. You’ve held the hands of many humans on their way into paradise, and many speak of death’s embrace being so warm and inviting.

But all you feel is cold.

So, so cold.

“Sleep well, angel. I’ll be seeing you again soon enough.”

Slowly but surely, everything starts falling back into place. Reality returning to your lifeless form as you awaken from your slumber.

With a tired groan, you open your eyes to an unfamiliar room. Nothing about where you are screams paradise, and in fact, it’s more of the opposite. Currently, you lay atop a large bed, surrounded by red silk sheets and pillows. The room itself is especially decorated with lavish details and portraits bordered with gold, its imagery ranging from acts of debauchery to icons painted with blood. Something about those specific paintings raises an unsettling feeling in the back of your mind.

“You’re awake,” a voice calls from the doorway. The richness of his voice makes it obvious without turning your head that you’re not actually dead, but still within Sukuna’s castle of sin. “How are you feeling?” he asks, though his demeanor remains calm, devoid of any underlying concern or true empathy.

You try and sit up, but quickly fall back from the pain, almost forgetting the trauma you had been through. You only realize now the number of bandages wrapping your body, the majority contorting your wing into a makeshift sling.

“You saved me?” you ask with disbelief in your tone. You thought for sure your time was up, yet your heart still beats, quicker now in Sukuna’s presence. “Why?”

“Yes, I saved you. And as for why…” He crosses his arm, maintaining his cold stare. “Let’s just say I have my reasons.” A subtle smirk appears.

“Whatever the case may be, thank you, for not letting me die.”

“Don’t mistake my kindness for charity,” he says bluntly. “In due time, you’ll be fulfilling your usage to me. That is the only reason you’re still alive.”

You raise an eyebrow at his words. “What use would you have of me?”

That devilish grin makes a reappearance on his face as he strides closer to the bed, towering over you. “You’ll find out soon enough. For now, you need only to focus on your recovery.”

So much for getting any answers or having any chance of leaving.

“Charity or not ─ I still thank you,” you say back to him, smiling all the while despite the fact you’re now akin to a bird confined in a gilded cage. Better than an iron cell, but not the same as the freedom that calls to you. At the end of the day, however, and for whatever reason he has, he still chose to help you.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he chuckles, eyes darkening. “It’s far too early for that.”

Sukuna’s amusement fades as the doors to your room open, revealing a white-haired servant holding a tray of sorts.

“My lord,” they greet, bowing to the King of Demons.

“Good, you’re here, Uraume. See to her recovery now that’s awake. I have work that needs to be done,” he announces, stepping out of the way for the one called Uraume to approach. Sukuna eyes fixate on you again as their servant helps you sit up. “I’ll warn you now, angel. You’re in my domain.” His tone is stern, full of unspoken promise. “If you so much as try to escape, I’ll clip both of your wings and leave you to rot this time around.”

You can’t help but laugh at the irony in his words. “Don’t worry, I think we both know I’m in no condition to leave. Nor do I plan on trying either.”

Despite the humor of it, one look at your wing is enough to question what life will be like for you from now on. There’s a question that when you recover, will you ever be able to fly again? You can’t help but feel off about the dull coloring of your wings now.

All angels radiate a celestial glow across the span of their perfectly white wings ─ like light scattered through a prism in every hair and fiber. That glow is seemingly gone from yours, and you think you spot some gray forming at the base. To be absent of that symbol of your connection, one can only assume it to be a sign of what’s to come.

“See that you don’t,” he remarks, turning away to let Uraume work.

Uraume makes careful work of changing out your bandages. They work quick and with deft fingers, trying their best not to aggravate your wing further. All the while, you face away towards the head of the bed, hiding your now exposed chest with your arms. You feel them pause, tracing a finger down your back. In your mind, you assume it to be one of the many marks left behind from the demons that captured you, and thus, you don’t focus too much on it.

You fail to notice Sukuna’s gaze transfixed on you from the doorway. Although silent, a darkness looms over his features. He exits the room moments later, shutting the door with more force than necessary, making your body jolt.

It’s a while before Uraume finishes, and they leave you with some fresh fruit to dine on. While you’re supposed to be resting, you find it difficult, especially after learning you’ve already been asleep for several days. That knowledge is precisely why you ditch the sheets to walk out onto the veranda connected to your room.

The moon is high in the sky, basking the courtyard garden with its sheer, red-toned light. Down here in the realm of fire, it’s as though the moon forever mirrors the flames conjured up from demons. That, or it reflects the many pools of blood from a millennium of suffering.

“Don’t you look like a broken bird,” Sukuna comments from behind you. For someone of his stature, it’s a wonder you didn’t hear him approaching.

“In a way, I am,” you muse, moving your eyes forward again. “One that flew too far from her nest.”

“Fallen from the nest and into the hands of a monster, how your precious fate seems to curse you.”

“Monster?” You snap your head in his direction with an incredulous look. “I hope you’re not referring to yourself with that comment.”

“You would deny what I am?” His voice is tinged with arrogance as he comes up beside you, not bothering to spare a glance. “I am the King of Demons, the most despised of life’s creation. How am I not a monster?”

“I’m still alive, aren’t I?” you respond, tilting your head. “Whatever the case may be, you chose to let me live, and even saw to the treatment of my injuries. You could’ve kept me in chains, plucking my feathers one by one, but you didn’t. You even have me in a room made for royalty.”

He scoffs, but you don’t let it stop you from continuing.

“Your title aside, I don’t assume anyone to be a monster ─ only a victim of circumstance. Is someone truly born evil, or is evil nurtured?”

Sukuna appears mildly surprised by your speech, giving you his attention. You spot the hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip. “A victim of circumstance, you say?” he repeats with an added air of mockery. “You raise an interesting point, but that doesn’t make you any less of a fool. Tell me, do you believe that because you’re an angel, you’re exempt from the original sin?”

“Not at all,” you answer quickly, and full of conviction. There’s not a drop of fear or hesitation as you openly speak your mind to Sukuna. “All of us ─ angels, demons, humans… we’re all doing what we can with the lives we were given. Angels rise and fall; some sinners beg for forgiveness while others let it define their nature. What’s important to me is how you treat others.”

“By that logic, what of the demons that maimed you? What of me, who has already killed in your presence?” Sukuna refutes. “Most would agree those to be the act of monsters.”

“Does being a demon mean you automatically deserve to be punished for the title you brandish? Does one act define your whole being? The demons who brought me before you sought help and protection ─ for that, I cannot blame them for their actions upon me. What difference is there between heaven and hell if I’m blinded by namesakes instead of looking at all the good and evil that can come from anyone, even of my own kind?”

Sukuna appears almost at a loss of words from your rambling. In truth, he wasn’t expecting such philosophy from someone so high in the celestial hierarchy, but he can see now why the humans would think to praise you as a saint.

“You make it sound so simple… so noble.” He’s looking at you now a deeper gleam in his eyes, intrigued enough to forgive your bold speech to him of all people. Most beings would never get away talking to him like you have after all. “So you would say there’s no difference between you and me after everything you’ve witnessed? How many in heaven would even agree with you?”

“I believe morality is a wild card that’s been muddied one too many times. There’s good and evil in everyone, even the almighty creators that chose to allow lesser beings to suffer in order to achieve growth. I can’t say I know many who would agree with me, but I understand their feelings and I’ll continue to trust in the potential for good.”

“You speak with a passion despite your predicament,” he huffs amusingly. “Still, I must admit, you have a unique way of thinking for an angel that’s uncommonly seen.”

You acknowledge his words with a hum, drifting your eyes to your wings lying flat at your side. “Most likely why heaven doesn’t seem too keen on my return,” you murmur, referencing the missing glow. “In return for saving me, I’ll see if I can be of use to you.” You’ll need a new purpose if you are to fall from grace.

Sukuna chuckles, the sound almost sinister. “An angel, offering her services to a demon. How… poetic.”

Silence takes over as you both admire the red glow of the garden. All that can be heard is running water from the fountain pond, and the occasional splashing of its scaled inhabitants.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You may,” Sukuna responds with one of his lower eyes pointed your way. “Whether or not I’ll answer is a different matter.”

You choose your next words carefully. This back-and-forth debate has been an unexpected treat after the pain you’ve endured to get here.

“You were an angel once too, yes? What happened that led your fall?”

His jaw clenches from the sudden inquiry. “There was a time I too preached the seven virtues; as for how I came to become the monstrosity I am today is a long, dark story.”

After telling you this, Sukuna starts to walk away.

“I see… I hope one day I’ll have the chance to hear it.”

He scoffs, giving you a sidelong stare over his shoulders. “I’ll consider your words, but it’s best now you return to your quarters and rest. Don’t go flying off anywhere.” His twisted laugh echoes from down the halls, and despite the cruelty of it, you can’t help but smile.

Days pass, and while you’d like to say you’ve gotten into a routine, even an angel like yourself isn’t immune to going stir crazy. To be grounded like this for as long as you have now is unnatural, and as your feathers seem to darken each day ─ so do your thoughts on the situation.

Currently, you’re seated out on the veranda again, admiring the servants working from afar to keep the courtyard clean and the shrubbery trimmed to the king’s liking. There’s a feeling that bubbles from within at the sight of those taking to their wings to reach the heights of certain trees, or cleaning along the palace rooftops. A feeling you aren’t sure just what to call as of now.

“Bored, are you?” That familiar tone reappearing. His arrival is the only bearable part of your stay as he forces you out of your own mind.

“I have the gift of life; I could never be bored,” you state, not taking your eyes off the demons that cling to the skies. “I am however… longing, I’d say.”

Sukuna’s eyes find you, moving from your face down to your wing. You’ve gotten to where you can feel his burning stare at times, even when he’s not around. While it may come off as intrusive, you find it a comfort.

“You miss it, don’t you? Being up in the skies, untethered from the earth.” he asks with understanding, but also that same recurring hint of his typical mockery.

“The wind between each feather, the sights you can only see from above…” You can’t help but sigh at what now feels like a distant memory. You’re certain your wing will recover, but whether you can maintain flight is a mystery in itself until the time is right. “Will you tell me now what purpose you have in keeping me around?”

Purpose is something you need right now to stave off the thoughts.

“Impatient, are we?” He holds your gaze silently for a moment before continuing. “I have my reasons, but I’m not ready to divulge them. For now, let me make it clear that you’re too valuable of a prize for me not to keep around.”

“A prize, huh?” You ponder the thought, leaning your body against one of the columns for support. “Am I even worthy if my connection to paradise has been severed?” you mumble on instinct, not intending for him to hear such thoughts you never knew you had.

He does though, and it leads to him furrowing his brows, and averting his stare to elsewhere in his domain.

“Who cares about heaven?” he starts, keeping his voice low and full of what you believe to be spite. You wouldn’t be surprised if he rolled his eyes as well. “Even if they abandoned you, your existence still holds value to me. Fallen or not, you’re a walkingcontradiction that’s piqued my interest. As far as I’m concerned, heaven was holding you back from your true potential.”

Moments like these are why you’ll argue with him for as long as necessary to prove he’s more than what he makes himself out to be.

“Is that so?” You smile. His eyes flicker back to you at the sound of your giggling. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Sukuna finds himself grinning as well. “Am I?” he questions while reaching to your feathers, running his fingers along them with a delicate touch. “And what would that be in your eyes?”

“The best way I can explain it is that you’re simply you ─ Sukuna.” You lean back one hand, gesturing with the other. “You try and present yourself as some monstrous demon that burns everything you touch, but here you are treating me with such care. I don’t doubt your strength, but I believe there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

“You’re a perceptive one, I’ll give you that, angel.” A beat of silence, and the flash of what could be read as vulnerability in his typically guarded demeanor. “But remember, I’m still a demon. My nature is not a kind one, so don’t go forgetting that detail.”

You chuckle, “I won’t, but I stand by my point. It’s my nature to see the good in everything that shares the same life as me.”

“Sounds tiring,” he deadpans, rolling his eyes. He removes his hand from your wing, tucking it back into his robe.

“Tiring? Oh contraire.” You smirk, feeling a spark of confidence ─ and maybe some defiance. “Do you only see the bad in everything? Always assuming the worst of others and thus feel the need to extinguish their life before they have a chance to bear their fangs? That to me seems tiring if you must always need your guard up.”

His face darkens considerably, and you realize too late that you’ve struck a nerve.

“You know nothing of what I’ve been through or why I do the things I do, so don’t pretend that you do,” he spits. The underlying wrath in his tone has your feathers puffing up. “Power is all that keeps me alive and keeps me going in this god-forsaken world. When you’ve been betrayed and hunted like I have, you learn quickly that you can only truly rely on yourself and not to trust others, especially not an angel.”

Guilt pangs in your chest alongside hurt from his choice words. You don’t regret what you said, but you maybe regret the timing of it, or not having considered his feelings before letting it all out. Life isn’t as fair to everyone as it might’ve been for you, but his anger has shown you the likelihood that his lifestyle was something nurtured ─ not the nature of sin one might argue.

He couldn’t have been born evil. It had to have been the acts of others that left him no choice but to become the embodiment of said evil.

And you can’t blame him for it, nor can you turn back time to right all of the wrongs. Fate must have brought you here for a reason, and in time you hope Sukuna realizes he doesn’t have to suffer alone. Even if he never pleads for forgiveness, you’ll show him that life is more than the negatives.

“I apologize if I upset you.” You stand up from your seat, tipping your head. A sudden act of submission even he can’t argue with. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be returning to my quarters now to rest.”

His glare seems to soften, if only a slight change. “…Fine. Go rest,” he quietly sighs, shifting back towards his garden view.

You take your leave, unknowingly leaving behind one of your fallen feathers in your previous spot. Sukuna notices this, lifting it to the moon’s light, watching it filter through the hairs. He kisses his teeth before stalking back to his own quarters across the yard.

You don’t see Sukuna much after that, almost like he’s trying to avoid you. Is he really that upset with you? It begs the question whether he still wants you around, or if his anger outweighs your worth enough to kill you and be done with it.

It’s another night where you find yourself out in the garden, enjoying the semblance of freedom it offers. You no longer have a bandage around your wing ─ which now is half covered in shade coloring ─ and Uraume has instructed you to begin stretching it to work back into a routine of physical therapy.

It can’t hurt to see if you can at least lift yourself off the ground, right?

So, you stand at the center of what appears to be Sukuna’s training grounds, as it offers plenty of space to move. With the moonlight against your back, you stretch out your wings in full, covering a good portion of the area around your body. You feel nervous yet eager to fly, enough to push past the dull pain you feel when you finally begin to lift yourself up off the ground.

Already you’re sweating ─ so out of shape from rest ─ but you don’t want to give up. It’s too soon and knowing now you can be off the ground makes you hopeful that this is the day you can take to the skies again. Only you don’t realize how much strain you’re putting on yourself, and how your unharmed wing must compensate more fiercely.

“Come on…” you strain, flapping harder than before when a sudden jolt of pain pierces through your wing, sending you crashing back into the dirt with a yelp. It only gets worse as your weight ended up landing on your recovering wing.

“You idiot!” Sukuna appears, shouting with alarm as he comes up to your side. His usual calm demeanor having been replaced with both anger and concern. “You’re not fully healed yet, what were you thinking?” he snarls, forcing you to sit up off your crooked wing.

You start to tear up from the pain, feeling a wave of emotions crashing into you all at once. Feelings you never knew existed outside humanity. You let it all out by sobbing into the dirt, and out of sheer frustration, you begin clawing at it too, angrily flapping your wings like a child throwing a tantrum.

Sukuna is surprised by your sudden outburst. The sound of your tears and the flapping of your wings is like a desperate cry for the freedom you once felt. He grabs at your shoulders, commanding you with his voice, “Cut it out, you’re only making it worse.”

“It’s already worse!” you shout back at him, surprising him yet again with this new side of you. “Let’s face it, Sukuna ─ my wing is ruined, I’m falling into ruin, there’s nothing left of me!” Your cracked voice tears through the garden, its serenity now clouded in the anger and hopelessness you feel.

This is the first moment of your life you’ve ever felt suffering like the mortals you’ve guided, and for the reason to be something as selfish as self-loathing… it shows how far you’ve fallen from grace.

“Stop being dramatic,” he growls. “If you don’t give yourself time to heal, then how can say for certain you’ll never fly again?”

You throw yourself into Sukuna’s front, unsure how else to cope with the weight of your emotions. An angel seeking comfort in a demon. You may be free falling into sin, but you have to agree with the poetry of it like Sukuna suggested.

He wasn’t expecting you to suddenly cling to him, but besides the mild annoyance he feels, he doesn’t make any moves to push you away. His awkward embrace is warmer than you would’ve thought, but this is the ruler of flames we’re talking about.

You don’t feel as cold as you have when he arms shield you from the world, and the depths of your mind.

When your tears settle and your breathing mellows, Sukuna lifts you from the ground with ease. He carries you back to your room, placing you gently down onto the edge of your bed. His hand moves with practiced care to your wing, feeling for any discomfort. You wince of course, and he lets a frustrated sigh after a minute of testing.

“I’ll send Uraume in to deal with this,” he tells you, and you notice his tone lacks the usual authority or contempt. He shifts his gaze from your wing to your face, reading for any signs of life in your distant eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I don’t know,” you reply, and it’s the truth. As an angel, you were designed to only feel emotions such as humility, kindness, patience… but now you don’t know what to label yourself with, or how to get through it. “What’s wrong with me?” you ask, not daring to look up from your knees.

“There’s nothing wrong with you.” One of his hands comes up under your jaw, lifting your chin to meet his crimson gaze. All four eyes staring into yours with the visage of understanding. “You’ve lost your light is all.”

Your light, your home, your paradise.

“I’ve lost everything.”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” His thumb traces your skin.

“Is that even worth it anymore? I’m no prize in this state, merely a broken bird like you had claimed.”

He furrows his brows, annoyed that you’re using his words against him as you wave the proverbial white flag with your voice.

“Don’t talk like that,” he snaps ─ harsh, but a necessary evil. “If you had no value, I would’ve killed you long ago. You have the mindset I’ve only seen in one other of your kind, and your knowledge and resilience are quite admirable in my eyes.” He lets go of your chin, stepping away from the bed. As he moves to leave, he stops, and without turning to look at you he says, “In time, you’ll realize how worthy you are.”

You weren’t sure if it could get any worse, but as the days continue to pass, you feel yourself sinking deeper into the abyss that is your psyche.

Uraume has been hovering around more often than not, urging you to stay in bed and rest, but you hate it. You hate this feeling of being powerless, of being empty, of not being able to live as you once had. From the moment you could fly, you were wandering the human realm, helping everyone you came across from the largest of creatures to the smallest of insects.

It’s your nature to help others no matter the cost. What’s not is putting yourself first. But now, everything’s changing ─ faster than you could have ever imagined.

You think this is what humans would refer to as fear, and what an unpleasant feeling it is.

Sukuna comes by every day, sometimes more than once to check in on you, and each time he finds you in the same, curled up position with your face buried in the silk.

He’s had enough of this slothful behavior.

“You need to eat, angel,” he says firmly, tapping his finger loudly on the bed post.

“’m not hungry,” you respond, though your voice is muffled and weak.

He lets out a frustrated sigh, and the force he puts into tapping his finger threatens to crack the wood. “You can’t just ignore your needs forever,” he retorts, “You need to eat, now.”

“Why do you care so much?” You don’t mean for the words to sound as harsh as they do, but luckily Sukuna is a patient man, most of the time.

“I didn’t save you just to watch you die in such a pathetic, mortal way.”

“Haven’t I always appeared pathetic since the day we met?” Bound in chains, bloodied with no celestial shine. Weak, broken, a pitiful excuse of heaven’s most revered angel. Complete, and utterly pathetic.

He kisses his teeth. “You’ve had your moments, but if you weren’t so busy feeling sorry for yourself, then you would see all that you are. All that you can be now.”

You’re silent for a few moments as you ponder his words. His unrestraint in speaking his mind may not always be a virtue, but it’s a comfort you’ve come to welcome all the same.

You turn your head his way and ask, “Was it like this for you when you fell from grace?”

“I wasn’t moping like you are, if that’s what you mean.” He then sighs and takes a seat along the edge of the bed, cautious in avoiding your sprawled out wing ─ which has become increasingly black as the days pass by. “But yes, I too had to overcome human emotion to get where I am now. It won’t last forever, I assure you.”

“You were right before,” you murmur, staring past Sukuna into your view of the garden. “I don’t know all the struggles you’ve had to face, or anyone for that matter. It doesn’t matter if I’ve visited one village or a thousand burnt to ash. Until now, I’ve never truly felt pain like this in my heart.”

Both set of eyes look down at you, but not in the sense that you’re beneath him. His gaze is understanding, regretful even for how he spoke to you before. You’ve stirred up Sukuna’s emotions without realizing, forcing him to come to terms with how he feels.

“What you’ve seen in the past has always been the aftermath of war. Until you’ve faced suffering yourself, you never would understand the pain behind it.” There’s a bitterness lacing his words as he remembers that period of his life prior to becoming king.

The moment that changed the course of his life forever.

“For whatever you’ve been through, I’m so sorry.” Tears rush down the side of your eyes, collecting into the sheets. “I always believed heaven had everyone’s backs, even those who hadn’t redeemed themselves, but I was wrong, so wrong. I’m just as guilty as every other celestial being for turning a blind eye and letting you suffer.”

Sukuna’s demeanor softens up at your apology, and he reaches a sharpened nail out to catch one of your tears. “Your apology is unnecessary… but I appreciate it nonetheless.”

The two of you sit in silence as you let the tears flow freely. The only sound aside from your own being the windchime Uraume had put up along the garden doors one evening. It’s the normal glass bulb shape, but the papery sheet that catches the wind is black, with red-spider lilies painted across. The flower’s coloring continuously reminds you of another with that same hue painted four times over.

Your stomach eventually disrupts the scene, cueing what you both were already aware of.

“Sounds like someone’s hungry; are you going lie again?” he teases, now poking his finger into your back.

“I guess I could try and eat something,” you playfully reply, moving to sit up. You feel discomfort immediately in your head, your vision darkening in turn from how long it’s been since you’ve last had a proper meal.

“Rest,” he orders after noticing your grimace. “I’ll have food brought to you immediately.”

Before he gets too far, you call out to him, “Sukuna?” He turns, giving you his attention. “Thank you,” you tell him, the moonlight hitting your face just as you smile. Its red glow is accentuated by your glossy cheeks, almost like a blush.

“You’re welcome,” he replies gruffly, but with the hint of his own smile hidden buried under his scarf.

From there, the days only get easier. Resting has felt less of a routine, and with Uraume’s help, physical therapy has been going well. There’s plenty of new growth in the form of pinfeathers across your wingspan, and the oldest of such white at the very tips still. It appears your broken wing will forever remain deformed ─ no thanks to the stunt you pulled ─ but you find yourself embracing the change.

The same can be said for many things now in your new life, such as how you’ve come to enjoy the night over day. The moon’s light is a comforting touch, as is the serenity felt in the late hours. You let that light guide your fingers across your wings, preening the darkened feathers to look your best.

Another change you’ve noticed are the appearance of marks stemming from the center of your back. According to Uraume, they were present at the time of your arrival, but since then have grown to wrap around your body in a filigree type pattern. You’re reminded of Sukuna’s own markings as you examine your body, and you’ve begun to question if this is how heaven marks their fallen.

Reaching the feathers closest to that part of your body is a challenge, and one you’re struggling to overcome. Angels typically preen each other’s wings in a show of chastity, and companionship. You’re certain Uraume would help if you ask, but the idea stirs a sense of intimacy now for whatever reason.

“Having trouble there?” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the night from behind you as always, making you jolt in surprise.

“Oh– uhh, yeah, just a bit.”

“It’s not an easy task reaching those feathers on your own, is it?” he muses with a snickering laugh. His footsteps are silent as he comes ever closer to the edge of the veranda.

“It isn’t, but I’m positive there’s feathers there ready to be unfurled.” You have a focused look on your face as you try once more to bend your arms in outrageous ways to try and reach.

“Let me help,” he says, brushing your hands away.

Sukuna doesn’t wait for your response before his fingers deftly land on the center of your back. His touch sparks a shiver down your spine, arching yourself upright. Your wings have never felt this sensitive before and it’s becoming increasingly difficult to keep them steady for him to work.

There’s a sudden influx of emotions you don’t recognize bubbling up, and a heat that pools in the base of your body. At times, it feels like Sukuna is purposely working slow to make your feathers all nice and pretty. His knuckles brush you in a way that hitches your breath.

He hums closely by your ear, “Your wings are quite sensitive here, aren’t they?”

Has his voice always sounded so melodic? So intoxicating? From the way he laughs at your reaction, you can tell he’s enjoying himself. Like he knows what’s going on in your mind.

He does.

You shoot up from your position with sudden urgency. “T-thanks for the help Sukuna, if you’ll excuse, I’ll see you later and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your night!” you stammer out with the hurry of a freefalling eagle, retreating back into your quarters before he has any chance to respond.

Sukuna can’t say he wasn’t caught off guard by this, but at the sight of your reddened face and eyes desperate to avoid his ─ he’ll forgive you.

On the other side of your folding screen door, you fall to your knees in a near pant to catch your breath whatever that was about. Temptation has never looked so good than in the form of Ryomen Sukuna, for all that he is. And while you came so close to the edge of a decadent abyss, you realized something.

You’ve grown fond of Sukuna, and in ways that can only be described with one word.

Sin.

From the window view of his study, Sukuna catches you out of the corner of his eyes stepping out from your room and into the courtyard. He doesn’t think much of it having gotten used to you being at the core of his picturesque view night after night. The moment he realizes you’re heading towards his training yard, however, is the same moment he ditches the scroll he was reading to follow..

He’s aware Uraume has given you the all-clear to attempt flight, but that was but a few hours before now. Truthfully, he should’ve known better. Of course you’re going to start right away.

Leaving his study, he makes haste to catch up, hoping to avoid what happened last time. He stands at the edge of the arena stealthily, watching as you stretch your now fully black wings to their limits. The first few flutters betray the confidence you showed in your steps to this place. He can tell you’re fighting a battle in your mind, but to Sukuna ─ those thoughts are useless.

“Why did you stop?” he asks, closing the distance after watching you deflate to your knees into the dirt.

“What if I get hurt again?” you confirm his inner thoughts with that meek voice. Foolish angel.

“What if you do?” he retorts, blunt as ever. “Are you just going to stay grounded forever because you’re afraid of a little pain? You’ve come this far; it would be a shame to give up now.”

“I don’t want to be on the ground ─ hell, I’ve been waiting for this day for so long and now that it’s here…” Your voice trails off, falling back to the low, despairing tone. “I’m afraid it won’t be the same.”

“It won’t be the same,” he says with an added huff. If anyone is in the position to give tough love, it’s Sukuna. “You will always carry that scar”-he gestures with a pointed claw at your wing-“a reminder of your fall, but that doesn’t mean you can’t fly. You won’t know until you get back up in the air.”

“But if I can’t, then what use could I possibly be?”

Sukuna crosses his upper pair of arms, leaving his lower pair to hang off his waist, one finger tapping away at the fabric at his hip. You’re in despair, and your main concern is whether you’re useful or not?

If you were anyone else, he wouldn’t think twice about making you his next meal. The weak are meant to be chewed up, but why can’t you see the potential you have already? (It’s standing right in front of you after all with a scowl on their face.)

“If wings were the defining point of who you are, then would you claim me to be useless?”

The day Sukuna fell from grace was the same day he tore his own wings from his back, tossing aside the last reminder of that accursed realm to embrace his demonic half in full.

“Of course not!” you refute with the same fire he saw when you argued how he isn’t not a monster. You’re not a lost cause yet if you can still manage that passion.

“Then get up and show me what you’re made of,” he commands. “You’re an angel ─ albeit a fallen one. Not the same broken bird you were before.”

Your eyes flash with realization, and with newfound determination, you’re back on your feet.

“Okay,” you breathe. “I just need to return to my roots.”

“Return to your roots? What exactly do you mean?”

“You said it yourself,” you casually say in passing, walking over to where the courtyard backs up against the edge of a cliff overlooking Sukuna’s domain. “I may be damaged, but I’m still a bird, aren’t I?”

Sukuna’s eyes widen.

“And where exactly are you going with this, dove?”

You can’t possibly be doing what he thinks you’re going to do. He doesn’t want you to get hurt, but he also wants you to see this through. Impressive, angel. A manic grin appears.

“Sometimes all a bird needs is for their parent to push them from the nest. Dive right in, even if you’re too afraid to try.”

You spread your arms out with your wings, backing off the edge and into freefall.

Sukuna’s at the cliff’s edge in a fraction of a second, his heart beating uncharacteristically loud in his chest as he watches you fall. It’s a harrowing sight, even for him, but the relief he feels when you manage to catch the wind between your feathers is unlike the emotions he felt before your arrival. Since that day, it’s like he’s had to fall from grace all over again with you, only that much harder this time around.

His smile doesn’t falter either, morphing from smug arrogance to a proud shine. The way you’ve taken to the skies is like you never left. If Sukuna’s domain is fire, then yours is the air that fans the flames in a mesmerizing dance. With a heavy thrust, you push yourself up ─ higher than his palace and the mountain’s peak before diving back down, returning to Sukuna’s side.

“I did it,” you mumble victoriously, a crazed grin of your own that Sukuna loves to see. “I did it!” you repeat, this time turning that smile towards Sukuna, with eyes brighter than any glow a halo could muster.

“See what happens you don’t give up?”

You lunge forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist. “Thank you, Sukuna,” you tell him breathlessly.

He finds himself liking this moment better than when you soaked his robes with tears.

“For what?” he asks, placing a hand on the crown of your head.

“For the care, the healing, the late-night conversations… for everything. For saving me.” Your arms tighten almost possessively around him. “You’ve shown me a kindness like no one before, and I am forever in your debt.”

Sukuna brushes his hand from your hair down to your jawline, tilting your head upwards. Something about the way your eyes shine from his doing makes his cold heart feel that much warmer.

“What kind of saint or angel are you to find kindness in a beast like me?” he mutters, lowering his head closer to yours.

“Like you said ─ a fallen angel, but an angel nonetheless.” His face now a mere breath away from yours. “And like I’ve told you ─ I see you only for what you are, demon or not. To me, you’ve always been just Sukuna.”

The moment your lips meet is when the cord connecting you to paradise officially snaps, thrusting you into an unholy matrimony. You feel a burning sensation come along the markings that brandish you, but it doesn’t hurt. Right now, all that runs through your blood is one thing, and one thing only.

Desire.

As your body rises in heat, so does the intensity of your kissing. You’re doing whatever feels right, and most of all good. Sukuna feels this, just as you feel his lips smiling against your own. His tongue dips into your mouth and for the first time in your life, your body lets off a moaning sound.

It drives Sukuna near feral hearing it, and with his lower pair of arms he tugs you close to body, enough to feel his own desire straining for relief. His mind is quickly becoming a mess of both need and longing.

He pulls you down with him to the ground, settling you over his hips with your legs at either side. Those same hands now driven with lust roam your body in tangent with yours that have found their way to his chest, feverishly working to unveil his body. He grows tired of the struggle, and in a split second he severs your robes clean off, and his to follow. Only now do your lips part, leaving a string of drool to keep you connected.

The moon offers the perfect glow needed to highlight your features. He leans back onto his elbows, admiring the rise and fall of your heated chest, the red hue clinging to your feathers, the half-lidded stare revering his own sculpted figure… there’s only one word that comes to mind when he sees your soul laid out before him.

“Beautiful,” he says breathlessly and in full confidence. His upper set of hands trace your sides before coming into contact with your chest. He brushes the padding of his thumbs over each nipple. His other two hands holding you by the hips, pulling you down deeper onto his core. “Oh, so beautiful, my sweet angel.”

You gasp at the feeling of something twitching below you ─ or rather, somethings. The sound makes Sukuna groan again with pleasure, the slit along his stomach opening to reveal a second mouth before your very eyes. To others, this would be enough to incite fear. But for you, it only ignites a fire between your thighs.

“Come here,” he demands, rhetorically it seems as he pulls you right over the freshly parted maw. A thick tongue flicks upward along your sex, frazzling your mind with symphony of whines. He groans again ─ much deeper this time ─ feeling his four eyes roll back into his head. “I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you would be the most divine tasting meal I’ve had to date.”

Sukuna finds himself struggling to keep you still as his tongue enters your body. It’s at this moment the veil of your chastity is no more, your purity claimed by the King of Demons.

Your body continues to squirm as his tongue shifts around your velvety walls, your wings continuously twitching and fluttering when it taps your sweet spot.

“So sensitive,” he laughs with that familiar mocking sound, but his eyes show only a carnal need with how pleasantly you respond to his touch.

“Feels s’good,” you mewl, a breathy sigh staggering out. You try to balance yourself with your hands, digging into his shoulders with talon-like grip.

“Yeah?” He continues to toy with your breasts, pulling one into his mouth. The feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh ─ eager to mark ─ has you gasping once more. “I know it does, you needy girl.”

“I need you,” you confess with a depraved stare that’s only heightened by the glow of the bloodied moon. It’s so close to mirroring his own, like your soul has already been claimed by the devil himself. After your purity, that’s the next step in this journey of love.

He chuckles, slithering his tongue back into his mouth. “Let’s see if you can handle me then without breaking.”

You’re confused at first what he means until suddenly you’re lifted into the air, watching as he pulls both cocks from his hakama. You knew they were big, but you had thought it was due to how they stacked over the other. How wrong you were to not expect the nine-foot-tall demon to be as equally blessed below.

“What do you think?” he teases, tilting his head to the side slightly.

“Why don’t you let me show you what I’m made of? I’m tougher than I look, you know.”

“Good girl. That you are,” he praises, helping you align yourself with one of his cocks. “I look forward to seeing you worship me with your body.”

It doesn’t take much for you to sink down onto him in full, your cunt a dripping mess thanks to his saliva and your freshly discovered arousal ─ like an untapped spring now bursting forth. There’s little pain that follows from the stretch, your body instead erupting with pleasure. It’s as though you were made for him. That your purpose in life was always to please him in every way possible. Everything you experienced so far was to bring you to this very moment in time.

“Embrace your instinct,” Sukuna says as he guides your starting motions. “Let it fuel your potential.”

You work with his motions, eyes fluttering shut at the incredible sensation. “I’m so full,” you sigh, and he chuckles.

“You’re doing so well; I knew you had it in you,” he purrs. “Soon enough you’ll be taking both in one hole. Would you like that?” You clench hard around him at that, and he can tell you’re getting ever closer.

“W-w-what is this feeling?” You move your hand downwards with unknown purpose to where his body meets yours, fingers gliding along his upper shaft, down every vein, and even rubbing it against your own clit for more of that wonderous sensation that’s building.

Using his own dick to pleasure yourself? My, how far you’ve fallen into his sinful embrace. The primal need he has for you is exceeding what he thought possible. How perfect you are for him ─ a match made in hell.

“It’s euphoria, my dear. Heaven,” he mutters gruffly, hissing with pleasure. “Let it break you and I promise you’ll feel better than ever before.”

“I need you, ‘Kuna.” Your voice comes out as a pleading whine that hitches his breath. The words a desperate plea for something you’re still learning to embrace.

“Tell me what you want, angel,” he growls, his eyes searing into yours. A set of hands glide upwards, one over your breast, the other at the base of your skull. “Say it,” he commands this time, pointed nails digging into your flesh, pushing even deeper into your body.

“I want you ─ no, I need you, Sukuna,” you declare with such staggering force to match your desire.

“Then you’ll have me. All of me,” he responds in turn, flashing his canines greedily. “So take me, angel. Take me for whatever you need.”

That’s all you need to feel your inhibitions slip away. You lean forward until his back is against the ground, kissing him from his lips down to his neck, feeling an urge like no other to sink your teeth into his flesh ─ to mar him as yours.

“More,” you mumble, moving your hips faster, intent on reaching that cascading high. “More, more, I need all of you, ‘Kuna.”

“You’ll have it all. Everything,” he promises in the form of a whisper, so close to your ear. “As much as you need, as much as you desire. I’ll give you everything the world has to offer if you stay by my side.”

You dig your nails into his body as your own begins to unravel before him. Waves of pleasure crashing down with all its might as you preach his name for all to hear. Tears slip from your eyes as you curl in around him, and he soaks each one up with his tongue as you ride out the high.

“Fuck, you’re so… divine,” you purr a sinful tune. “Nothing ─ not even in paradise ─ has ever made feel this way.”

Forget being an angel. In the state you are now, Sukuna believes you could put a succubus to shame. You feel and look so incredible on top of your new throne. Divine as you put it.

“You feel like heaven yourself,” he claims through ragged breaths. “Everything about you is addicting; you’re a drug I can’t get enough of. Mark my words, I’m going to indulge myself in your soul for all eternity.”

“Take me then. Claim me, ruin me, I don’t care so long as you make me yours.”

Fuck, if you knew the power you have over him.

“You’re already mine,” he hisses, and before you can blink, your positions are swapped. His figure towering over yours. “But incase that wasn’t already obvious, I’ll prove it to you here.”

Sukuna leans his head down, kissing you on the lips. The calm before the storm that’s to come.

“I’m going to claim you and make you completely and utterly mine.” He pulls his hips backwards, leaving only the head of his cock inside you. “…and I’m not going to stop until you’re completely wrecked, completely mine.”

Sukuna thrusts forward, slamming his hips into you. There’s no second to spare, no second to adjust before he does it again and again, forcing you to cry out to the heavens how good he’s making you feel. It serves them right for abandoning you, leaving him to pick up the pieces. It’s the only thing he’ll thank that pathetic realm for, because you truly are one of the most divine creations to have existed alongside himself.

It isn’t enough for you yet it seems, no matter how rough he’s being. Your legs try and wrap around him, but you’re only hindering yourself. So, with two arms, he lifts your legs to your chest, placing his knees at your side. This new position allows him to reach even deeper, fulfilling what he knows you need.

He lowers his forehead to press against yours, sharing the air you command like a goddess those beautiful, encapsulating wings of yours. If you can’t wrap your legs around him, you at least try it with your wings. Like a moth’s cocoon, making this moment in time all your own. So selfish; it’s exactly what he’s wanted to see.

“Who’s making you feel this good?” he asks, his hips refusing to slow. If anything, they’re only getting faster ─ more erratic in nature.

“You are!” you cry out.

“And who do you belong to?”

“You!”

“Say it,” he growls, and you know exactly what he means.

“I’m yours, Sukuna! Only yours!”

“That’s right,” he chuckles darkly, drawing out his words. “You’re mine. Mine to do with as I please, mine to claim and take forever.” His voice is strong, carrying his decree like the word of the gods. “Do you see now the prize that you are to me?”

You nod your head feverishly, scraping your nails along his back. Your wings flutter with frenzy at the incoming high you both are flying so close to reach.

“So. Damn. Divine,” he groans between thrusts, almost threatening to truly break you if he isn’t careful. “You’re going to take every last drop of me, aren’t you?”

“Please, please, please, I want it all,” you plead and whimper, drool spilling out the sides of your mouth. “I want all of you.”

He bites down on your neck before stilling inside you, a rush of warmth hitting you both inside and out. You open your mouth in a silent scream at the force your climax hits you with. Desire overwhelming you from the depths of your being. Near the end, Sukuna slowly rocks his hips into you, fucking his seed back into you before leaning back to admire the view of your stomach painted in white.

As he does, you notice the blood trickling from his mouth is black in color. No longer the same angelic gold it once was.

“I love you, Sukuna,” you confess, making him smile with that all too familiar arrogance you’ve come to love, just like him. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life until now. I’ve found purpose again with you.”

“I told you that in time your worth would be realized.” He pulls out from your body, casually pushing his seed back inside with hand. His stomach mouth opens, splaying out his second tongue to clean himself off the front of your body. “You have the makings of a queen ─ one who could stand by my side through the end of time.”

When he’s finished cleaning you off, he helps you up onto your knees. You then take to embracing him in your arms, and even your wings just to hold him close to your heart. “I never realized how constricting the heavenly principles were until you set me free. Thank you for showing me how life should be lived.”

Sukuna tightens his four arms around you, feeling that same possessive desire in his chest that goes beyond carnal need. There’s pride in his eyes to know what he’s taken from those bastards above. Nothing compares to you.

“You don’t need to thank me; you were made to be free. True paradise is removing all restraints to live as you please under no guiding order. Strength is power, and you’ve found it at last.”

“This right here is better than any paradise I’ve seen.” Sukuna feels your smile growing against his chest.

“Damn right it is,” he laughs, grinning like the devil he is.

And who would’ve imagined that heaven’s most revered angel, the guiding saint of humanity, would have fallen from grace, and into the hands of the sinner you love more than life itself now.

Fate is a fickle thing, and you know that now.

In the days that followed that night to remember, new changes began sprouting up. Symbols of your life renewed, risen from ash.

For starters, your wings have taken on an iridescent glow ─ like a black devil boa. No one, not even Sukuna has ever heard of such a thing happening to a fallen angel, but it’s become just another feature that makes his proudness of you show.

You’re one of a kind, and entirely his.

Your old room and clothes are no more. Now, you wear only the best money can buy, tailored perfectly to your form. Sukuna’s hoard contains many riches on top of gold, including a stockpile of gems he’s taken to adorning you with. All are reminiscent of his ruby red eyes ─ perfectly fitting with you. He’s a king in every way, always eager to indulge in the pleasures life has to offer.

You trot through the halls of his palace, making way to his throne. You’re eager to be reunited after a morning spent dancing in the skies, your heart tugging you to his side. He’s hosting an audience by the looks of it, but that doesn’t stop all four of his eyes from landing on you as you enter.

“Perfect timing, angel.” He smiles wickedly, displaying his vampiric fangs in full. “Come and take a seat, the show has only just begun now that you’re here.”

At his words, you come bounding up the bone-riddled steps, arriving before him. Sukuna’s hand reaches out, guiding you to rest atop one of his thighs. That hand remains on the small of your back, with another resting on your own inner thigh ─ his thumb rubbing shapes into the plush.

“You remember these demons, I’m sure?” You turn your head and look down, finding the very demons who had brought you here in the first place. They don’t dare meet your eyes as their gaze bores into the marbled floors. “You see, they’ve come demanding a meeting with me. They seem to be hoping I’ll reward them now with something other than their lives for bringing you to me.”

“Is that so?” you muse, ultimately ignoring their presence as your lips meet Sukuna’s with passion, your hands resting on either side of his jaw. “What do you think of that, my king?”

He chuckles, “I think they were foolish to try and demand me to do anything for them.” Sukuna snaps his fingers once, filling the room with an intense warmth. Fire has never looked more beautiful than when it reflects into yours from the depths of his eyes. The weight of his soul, resting between the palms of your hands.

“Wouldn’t you agree, my queen?”

You do, because all that matters now is one thing, your purpose, pleasure, and every depraved feeling in between ─ Sukuna himself.

☆ Notes: got inspired by a sukuna c.ai bot by @ vittovitto with a similiar premise

I like to imagine that as angels who live by the 7 virtues, that when they fall, they go through like an awkward werewolf kinda phase like I’ve detailed where they start to feel each of the 7 sins. Kinda liked a fucked up puberty with all the hormonal changes idk, I thought it was cool when I thought of it.

Overall though, I had a REALLY fun time writing this. I’ve always loved the idea of fallen angel Sukuna but writing about biblical stuff throws me off a bit. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did while I force myself to get back into my other five ongoing series!!!

song inspo: heaven's a lie - lacuna coil | parade's lust - granblue fantasy (i'm horny for belial, what can i say)

#jjk #jjk au #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #jjk sukuna #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna smut

480 notes · View notes

clauscielo · 3 months ago

Text

✧ yearning

pairing: joel miller & reader, arthur morgan & reader.

warnings: angsty. self-conscious, touch starved men. age difference, slight nsfw for joel.

requests are open!

joel looked at himself over and over again in the mirror. it had been so long since he'd cared about his appearance… last time he'd worried about looking good was in his teens. he would've laughed if someone had told him a few years ago that he'd be worrying about this again.

but here he was. looking at himself with contempt. his wrinkles, his gray hairs… the bags under his eyes, his teeth, his skin marred by sun and survival. and when, somehow, he finally managed to find himself..., not necessarily attractive, but halfway acceptable, he'd then look at you and his whole world would fall apart.

you were beautiful.

no matter how hard he looked at you, he couldn't find a single flaw. in some conversations you had mentioned some insecurities you had, but he was unable to understand them. you were just perfect.

“are you okay? you were taking so long,” you said, concerned. and he just stared at you, pained, analyzing every detail of your face, comparing it to his own.

“i'm fine. let's go,” he replied with a heavy sigh. his voice quivered slightly, perhaps from the effort he made carrying his backpack, or from something else.

he had long ago realized his feelings for you. normally he wouldn't care about feeling something for someone, attraction, or whatever. but this was different. he wanted you, deeply. he drooled over you. every night, he closed his eyes, imagining how your bare body would look, how your bare breasts would be, how it would feel to be inside of you. god, he hated himself for it, but he loved to fantasize about you before he went to sleep, the image of you being the last thing on his mind before he drifted off to sleep, sometimes even conjuring up dreams that were exquisite to him.

but when morning came, he could hardly look you in the eye. he felt disgusted, ashamed. you trusted him, and joel felt as if he was betraying you, with all these thoughts of his.

you were too young for him. you were too naïve for things to work out between you two. you were… too good for him.

and yet, he still allowed himself the luxury of watching you sleep when you rested next to him some nights, leaning against his shoulder, your lips half-open, soft little snores escaping from them. he loved you. he really did.

“you get some rest,” he whispered, stirring on the couch, a little restless. the scent of your hair flooded his nostrils, he closed his eyes and let his head fall back. he wasn't sure he could take much more of this.

“joel…” you snuggled a little more against him. “take me to bed…?” you whispered, half asleep, if not completely asleep.

“ah… sure,” he murmured. he carried you in his arms and gently, laid you on your bed. you opened your eyes a little and as he looked at you, he felt like kneeling before you and begging your forgiveness, for all the things he craved with you, for being so nasty and for never being enough.

“don't go,” you asked, your voice low. and he nodded, his gaze low with guilt.

“i won't, baby,” joel said, his voice barely a whisper, “i won't.”

you hated washing dishes. you preferred anything to this. you didn't know why, but it disgusted you terribly. the remains of breakfast mixing with the remains of lunch and dinner under water and soap... and when you touched some lump of unknown origin without wanting to, you panicked. was there anything worse than this?

being in a gunfight, maybe. you weren't so sure either.

whenever it was your turn to do the dishes, you procrastinated longer than it actually took you to clean them. you'd spend a whole hour whining, dreading the moment you'd have to face such a horrible, excruciating task. and then it would only take you fifteen minutes to get it done. it was the same thing, every time.

so arthur, whenever he got the chance, helped you. almost every time, he stood in for you, he cleaned up while you stood by his side, chattering about whatever nonsense, his gaze lost in your smile, his mind in the sound of your voice.

and of course, every time he got you off the dishes, you were so effusive with your words and gestures of gratitude.

“i sure do ‘ppreciate this, arthur. thank ya kindly,” you sighed, stroking his arm and squeezing it a little. he relaxed under your touch, a goofy grin creeping across his face, his cheeks warming.

he felt like a complete idiot. a young lady as pretty, as cheerful, as deep and intelligent as you, with a bitter simpleton like him? it was ridiculous. it would never happen.

his smile faded as he stared at the dishes he was washing. his chest ached at the thought that he could never be honest with you, could never touch you, hold you, whisper the words of love he thought every time he looked at you. he was disgusted with himself for being so attracted to someone like you. what the hell was he thinking?

arthur would do anything to make you happy. and it might seem stupid, but seeing you so relieved and grateful for something he did, even if it was as silly as washing the dishes, made him feel... important. important to you. and he loved it when you stayed by his side while he did it, telling him your stories, your thoughts.

he just wanted you to love him. and he liked to fantasize that you did, every time you touched him, every time you smiled at him, every time you got close to him because you wanted to and not because you had to.

“thank ya so much, arthur. you're the best,” you told him, with a coy smile, watching him dry his hands after he had washed each and every one of the dishes. he smiled sadly. he didn't want this brief moment with you to end.

“thank ya? the hell ya mean? that’ll be five dollars,” he replied, jokingly. you laughed.

“how ‘bout one little kiss? that enough for ya?” you asked.

he turned red and stammered, surprised by your answer.

“and what good would a kiss from you do me?” he replied, defensively, flustered. but when he saw your smile fade, morphing into an expression of embarrassment, he regretted it. “i’m sorry. didn’t mean it like that. just caught me off guard,” he muttered.

you giggled, stood on tiptoe, and planted a sweet kiss on his cheek.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller smut

246 notes · View notes

bynineb · 2 months ago

Text

my favorite & least favorite Pokemon from each generation!

GEN 1

FAVE: VENONAT

my lovely buggy boy! this is partly for nostalgic reasons as my very first slot car i built with my father was called VENOM, and had a little Venonat figurine perched on top. but the design is also precious, a Kuriboh style fuzzball gnat in a whimsical purple. also when it runs it hops!!! like a bunny!!!

Runner Ups: Nidorino, Poliwhirl, Porygon, Charizard, Haunter

LEAST FAVE: GOLDUCK

a wet fart of an evolution that loses all of psyduck's walleyed charm and replaces it with... nothing. it has no identity. even its pokedex entries are lame - it can swim fast and that's it. usually the simpler gen 1 pokemon still appeal to me just due to sugimori's art style, but no such luck for the duck.

that being said, i don't completely hate it. it just needs more to latch onto design-wise

Runner Ups: Rapidash, Hypno

(the rest is under the cut!)

GEN 2

FAVE: FLAAFFY

once my all-time favorite pokemon, although that has since been ceded to Venonat, i adore Flaaffy to bits. it has that perfect amount of cuteness and patheticness that endears me to some of my favorite designs, said patheticness owing to its stubby arms, mangy coat, watery eyes, and peculiar bowed stance when it stands up. i love the striped horns and tail, the colors are very pleasant, and the wool gives it a je ne sais quoi that the otherwise similar Ampharos lacks, almost like a wooly muffler and hat. (not knockin Ampharos btw, love it too). there's a reason Fynn took so much inspiration from this fluffy fellow!

(also, the rental Flaaffy in Pokemon Stadium 2 had Thunder Punch and Fire Punch. considering the sorry state of rental movesets in that game, and my lack of an N64 link cable, Flaaffy carrying me through those fights may have helped cement our bond!)

Runner Ups: Skiploom, Dunsparce, Forretress, Unown, Magcargo

LEAST FAVE: TYROGUE

not only does it not really resemble the hitmons - maybe hitmonchan? - it's just not a flattering design. the bandages and ear guards give it some definition and trainee-like character, at least, but the colors are gross, and frankly it just looks too much like a human being. in general i dislike pokemon that too closely resemble humans and Tyrogue is one of the biggest offenders. even its name is dumb! it's not roguish at all! what a hitmonchump

(also the beta version was so much better imo. linked art by @racieb)

Runner Ups: Qwilfish, Smoochum, Noctowl

GEN 3

FAVE: DUSKULL

aww duskull... what a charmingly spooky spirit. the single red eye behind the skull mask is a killer design motif and i love its fishlike phantom body, arms tucked behind its back in eternal contemplation. so halloweeny!

Runner Ups: Trapinch, Lunatone, Illumise, Shedinja, Tropius

LEAST FAVE: DELCATTY

it lacks in personality, and i don't think the color scheme looks good. its head shape also freaks me out the longer i look at it... but i do like that its neck resembling a pincushion, that's clever

Runner Ups: Castform

GEN 4

FAVE: REGIGIGAS

hey look, it's game freak's favorite whipping boy! i'm a sucker for hulking construct-type designs and regigigas is such a thoroughly excellent example of one. the black runes and mossy accessories give it a feeling of ancient, unknown significance. unlike a lot of gen 4 legendaries, it doesn't feel overly busy but still feels complex enough to have that "legendary" impact

Runner Ups: Giratina, Carnivine, Torterra, Bastiodon, Gliscor, Drapion

LEAST FAVE: AMBIPOM

i have to say gen 4's designs usually feel distinct, particularly the new evolutions for older pokemon, which go out of their way to differentiate themselves from their previous form, for better or worse. not so for Ambipom, though!- which is just Aipom but worse in every single way. its once nimble fingers reduced to swollen udders, its cheeky grin slackened into a vacant smile and marred with an unpleasantly singular nostril, that dreadful haircut, and even the introduction of elbows to its vestigial arms that further emphasize the seeming impracticality of those wretched bulbous tail hands. and maybe even worse, it doesn't evolve the base concept in any way, aside from doubling the number of party balloons that limply float behind it, possibly the least interesting iteration on the existing concept

nothing unique to it is good or interesting, and that to me is way worse than a design that tries something new and fails

in terms of what i like about it... i guess it does seem like a pretty friendly guy. maybe he does tricks at parties. and it's nice that they can hold hands with one another in a group

Runner Ups: Gallade, Lopunny, Magmortar, Glaceon,

GEN 5

FAVE: HAXORUS

god if this thing isn't cool! the exquisite color palette, the subtle contours of its armor, the bloodred axe-tusks... elegant simplicity in a terrifyingly brutal beast. it feels out of time, jurassic yet medieval...

Runner Ups: Roggenrola, Heatmor, Scolipede, Cofagrigus, Mienshao

LEAST FAVE: GURDURR

there are very few pokemon that make me feel disgusted by looking at them, but here's one of them. its creepy lumpy head and bulging veins make me deeply uncomfortable. i must give credit for the base concept of a clown-ogre-construction-worker... that's ambitious, at least, and i think it pays off pretty well in Conkeldurr.

Runner Ups: the monkeys, the genies, & the musketeers... the fillerest of filler

GEN 6

FAVE: GOURGEIST

SUCH a fun design. it blends a candle and a jack-o-lantern into its own original creature with a very unique shape, and what a cutie at that! it coming in multiple sizes like a real pumpkin would just seals the deal. another perfectly halloweeny 'mon, it and Duskull would be best friends

Runner Ups: Avalugg, Barbaracle, Clawitzer, Espurr, Trevenant

LEAST FAVE: VOLCANION

one of the pokemon i forget about the most, and i am never happy to remember it. what a waste of the first fire/water type! its face looks constipated, its colors are lame, and it doesn't do jack-all with the concept besides the most obvious "it can shoot out steam." at the very least, though, i can say it has a unique silhouette. i think the design has potential, it's just that a lot of the particulars are very clunky and lame

(also, give me the fireball seal from the beta game freak!!)

Runner Ups: Hoopa, Braixen

GEN 7

FAVE: CHARJABUG

BEEP BEEP!!! oh how i adore this little battery buggy. i didn't think much of it back when it was first revealed, but as soon as i heard its cry i immediately fell in love. it really is unique, too - no other pokemon has this shape. even cooler it has a support-based playstyle unique from its evolution based around its Battery ability, improving its allies' damage passively. thanks charjabug : )

Runner Ups: Type: Null, Celesteela, Bruxish, Stakataka, Melmetal

LEAST FAVE: LYCANROC-DAY

i don't particularly dislike Lycanroc really (Alola's designs are bangers), but the rock typing is so thoroughly phoned in. and if you get rid of that you're just left with a wolf, an animal i don't care about. midnight form is fun though!

Runner Ups: Passimian, Toucannon

GEN 8

FAVE: SNEASLER

this pick is probably not too popular, but i can't help but love Sneasler because it looks so much like what i would doodle in my high school notebooks, monster people with huge claws and wicked eyes. it's a cringe OC and that's badass. it carrying you around in a basket is also just precious...

special mention also to legends arceus for making the diamond/pearl legendaries look way cooler. to me, anyway, i just think they're so much more fun in this surreal state

Runner Ups: Carkol, Cursola, Falinks, Ursaluna, Hatterene, Toxtricity

LEAST FAVE: CINDERACE

i generally don't care for the set of designs made for sword and shield. (my favorite gen 8 mon isn't even from sword/shield!!) it feels like over half of the dex is either a guy with a job, or tries way too hard to be "memetic" and funny. cinderace falls into the former camp, an uncannily humanoid and unnatural design. i also don't like the colors used... that being said, it's going for a very different aesthetic than what i prefer, so i can imagine some people loving this design just as much as I dislike it.

i think the idea of kicking a pebble that becomes a blazing fireball is rad though, and Court Change is a sick move

Runner Ups: Boltund, Eiscue, Kubfu, Coalossal, Skwovet, Greedent

GEN 9

FAVE: GLIMMORA

this perfect angel was one of the most unexpected delights of my scarlet playthrough. i love how otherworldly and surreal it is, its beautiful flower-like blooming petals that conceal its deadly poisonous nature, and its barreleye-fish-like-eyes that are at once adorable and haunting. it's amazing that we're 1000 designs in and game freak's artists are still able to create wholly new feeling concepts that are this cool...

Runner Ups: Slither Wing, Espathra, Houndstone, Ogerpon

LEAST FAVE: RELLOR

WHY DO YOU HAVE THE FACE OF A HUMAN, RELLOR?! WHY!?! i am begging gamefreak to stop giving so many pokemon mustaches and beards. i also don't like the weirdly smooth dunkin-donuts-lookin' dung ball and how none of its colors match the bug's colors... that being said, it does at least have personality, i can't deny that...

Runner Ups: Iron Jugulis, Frigibax, Iron Crown

well that was cathartic! to end on a positive note, i must say that I think Pokemon's overall design track record is very good. most designs have a likeable quality to them, and so many are bursting with creativity and charm. honestly even the ones i just criticized are probably some people's favorites, and they're not wrong to think so. thanks for reading!

#pokemon #venonat #flaaffy #duskull #regigigas #haxorus #gourgeist #charjabug #sneasler #text post #glimmora

284 notes · View notes

bluee08 · 2 years ago

Text

Astro Observations 《1》

Disclaimer : I am not a professional astrologer. This post is only for fun and it is solely based on my observations and experiences. So, please take it with a grain of salt.

♠️ Taurus Mars 🤝 Anger issues. It's either a disaster or unhealthy suppression. No in between.

♠️ Mars-Neptune placements have some wide imagination when it comes to steamy stuff. It be going on in their heads 24/7! Also they might get frequent wet dreams. Infact on a side note they are quite looking forward to it when they go to sleep.

♣️ Mars in 4th house went through a lot of family trauma in childhood. It could be anything like daily arguments, abusive household, domestic violence etc.

♠️ Sagittarius venus and their frequent crushes. If influenced by Scorpio could be secretive as hell.

♠️ Jupiter–Saturn negatively aspected could indicate a hard academic life in the beginning but once you work on it, you will succeed with flying colors. My friend has her jupiter squaring saturn and she was always at the bottom in her class. But once she decided to put her mind into it, she became one of the toppers in our school.

♣️ Venus at 0° has no idea where to began with love. They want it but are clueless about what they actually want.

♠️ Sagittarius people love freedom. Speaking from personal experience, you don't want to tie them down by any means. Like Sagittarius moon hates being emotionally tied down by some melodrama. Don't even think about manipulating them they will run away know right away. Sagittarius venus hates being controlled in a relationship.

♣️ Virgo sun might tease their partner now and then after their night together just to see their reaction. You better blush🔪

♣️ Someone mentioned in their post that having jupiter in 2nd house in solar return chart could indicate buying a lot of books. It's true! I had it last year in my chart and omg I bought so many books in one year! Also I never faced any shortage of money that year so later when I calculated the expense, I was surprised. It's also funny because whenever I felt like, okay I want this book, in the next few days I would have it in my hands by some means. I was obsessed with books. Let it be study material or novels. I still have many novels that I bought last year but haven't read yet. Lol no regrets tho, I love books 📚

♠️ Moon conjuct pluto 🤝 love-hate relationship with their mothers. It's like— I can't live without you. The next moment—but if I die it will be only because of you. And it goes both the ways. I have this and trust me it hurts on a subconscious level.

♣️ Asteroid Actor conjuct moon could mean that when you act, you act flawlessly. No one could tell if you are acting or not. Emotions are always on point. It comes very natural to these people. If underdeveloped, could make sly manipulators, like a wolf under sheep's skin.

♠️ Scorpio MC people always have a strict control over their public image. They are not said to be mysterious just like that. You might think you have them figured out but there is always something going on in their lives which is unknown to the public. And if they don't want you to know about it, you will never know either.

♣️ Pluto in 11th house/Sagittarius/Aquarius could mean that you might have a wide variety of friends all over the world, through online or even through mutuals. But for some of you these people just come along and go. Or maybe you are the one who gets distant for some reason. They still remain good friends though, it's just that the sudden closure is gone. Plus they don't reveal every single secret to their friends. They know later it won't matter.

♣️ Venus conjuct/ Sextile/trine Mercury gives a very pleasant voice. These people should try applying in music industry.

♠️ Asteroid Skip in natal chart could indicate what all things you missed or neglected in your life. For example, in 6th house you could have neglected your health a lot to the point later it backfired. Or in Capricorn it could indicate that you skipped working.

♣️ Jupiter–AC people are very sharp minded. Especially if it's conjuction. They know how to turn the situation in their favour. They are also very versatile in nature, which makes them very well liked by people. Basically the All rounder placement.

♠️ Asteroid Scientia positively aspecting Jupiter/Sun/moon could mean you work good in science fields. Whereas if it's negatively aspected you might face a little difficulty in dealing with science majors and need more effors to put in. I have jupiter square scientia and I know exactly what I am talking about.

♣️ Asteroid Academia in 11th house/Aquarius could indicate changing many schools, colleges throughout your life or living in a hostel.

♠️ Aries risings are the most restless beings alive. They can't sit still for two minutes to save their lives! These people are very competitive when it comes to athletics, as for academics, they are okay with being average. Two of the people that I know who have this rising sign won gold medals during their school lives in sports competitions.

♣️ Mars conjuct MC or Mars in 10th house people are very dedicated and driven when it comes to their profession. They pursue their career with full potential.

#astrology #asteroid scientia #jupiter squar saturn #astro observations #zodiac signs #moon-pluto #moon conjuct pluto #aries rising #scorpio mc #asteroid skip #asteroid academia #Mars-Neptune #sagittarius venus #taurus mars #solar return #Asteroid actor

2K notes · View notes

elysiaheaven · 4 months ago

Text

𝐌𝐢𝐬𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐦𝐛!- 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐅.𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭)

Words:9000 ( Slightly inspired from Azeru's Scar Audio!) Slightly altered from the real quest!

Genre: Smut

Summary: (Taken from the first meeting with Scar and Rover, Reader is Rover.) You didn't know why but you decided to go with him.

( Slightly inspired from Azeru's Scar Audio!) Slightly altered from the real quest!

Rover will remember her name as y/n l/n- Reader is Rover in this.

CW: Mentions of Hickey, Marking, Degradation, Mentions of mirror sex, Overstimulation, Bondage kink, Semi public sex, Dom Scar, Bottom y/n, Uses of nicknames ( Pet, Little Lamb, Baby?, Slut), Dirty talks, Fingering, Rough sex,

"Where's YangYang???" you demanded, staying on guard.

In front of you stood Scar, who proudly called himself the 'cruel and twisted maniac.'

"Don't worry, I don't plan to make you hate me just yet...She's safe now. Well, let's just enjoy our time together for the moment. Forget about that irrelevant person, will you? I have a lot to share with you." Scar said, tilting his head.

"W-what is it?" you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

"To begin with...I heard you've lost your memories?" He looked directly into your eyes, a predatory gleam shining through.

"How did you know?!" You stayed on guard, feeling a chill run down your spine.

"So it's true." He smirked, a twisted expression playing across his scarred face. Oh no, you realized too late—he used one of those psychological techniques. Damn it, Rover, you idiot!

He started walking toward you, step by step, closer and closer. "That makes sense, given how fragile you were when you woke up. Or I would've questioned the authenticity of those rumors." Your mind raced. So he was the one who—

"You were following me?" you accused.

"So you noticed? Aww, I'm flattered. No need to be so on edge. By now you should've realized I'm just one of the onlookers. But out of all the onlookers, I'm the only one who came forward to meet you, with absolute honesty."

"So...?" You stepped back again, his presence unnerving. Why would you be intimidated by this guy out of all people? You took a moment to notice his features.

He was tall, with fluffy grey hair tipped with red, and numerous scars marred his face. A large patch covered the right side, another darker scar cut vertically through his right eye, and a horizontal scar crossed his left cheek. His right eye was red, his left eye grey. He wore golden dangling earrings, upside-down fleur-de-lises. His attire was predominantly red and grey. His pants were grey, fading to red at the bottom, flared. Grey garters extended from his hips to below his knees. He wore black gloves with red fingertips and bright red boots.

His smile was wide and borderline psychopathic, matching his self-description.

"Before you knew anything about this world, you were already the center of conflict."

"What do you mean—?" He looked at you as if you were a little lost lamb.

"You are the unknown variable we've been waiting for. Forces have been fighting for possession over you."

"...I'm not some damned thing! All of you are...only YangYang and the others have been—" He pulled you closer, and you wanted to push him away, but you couldn't. It was as if he wanted to tell you it was a lie.

"Listen to me, Rover. It might be shocking to you. You might need a shoulder to cry on..." His hands stroked your back, the touch so sweet it made you want to melt. Why were you feeling safe...around this man of all people?

"From the moment you opened your eyes, everyone you've met, including that girl you care so much about...they all knew how valuable you are..." His voice was like a knife.

"Ah...you are just—" He suddenly pulled you even closer. You didn't want to push him away. Part of you was already giving in. The truth—no, right? All of them did act like your friends because you were useful?

"The world is a cruel place. You're a living, breathing person, but you're just a pawn to many." His words were starting to make you cry.

"..."

"That's why I'm here. Because I see you as a dear person and I want to tell you the truth. I am so, so sorry for everything you are about to face. The truth hurts sometimes." You were just done and pushed him away.

"As if you were any different. All of you are the same."

"Hehe, I didn't expect you to be this fragile...your expressions are so precious..." You looked at him weirdly and wanted to step back.

"My goal is simple. I just want to deepen our mutual understanding, nothing more. Seeing all those people who use you makes me feel bad. I will be honest—I wanted to have a little fun with you. But I feel bad for you. The truth indeed made your eyes glossy." You felt a tear dropping down. So what if maybe that's why all those people have been kind to you? Why is...?

"You're messing with my brain...I just know it...go away or are you asking for a fig—"

"Rover, all those people who want you are going to use you for their own gain. Imagine, what if that girl befriended you to aid her in battles? What if Miss Magistrate wants you because she wants her job done easy? Well..." You began to feel like destroying everything you see. It was hard to take in.

"You are just the sam—"

"Oh dear, you are one of us, the 'black lambs,' and you have been chosen to join us in ushering in the new world. Once you discover who you really are, you will come to us—no, me—with no hesitation. The Fractsidus awaits your arrival with open arms." He came closer to your ear. "I'll expect your arrival with open arms. If you join us, join me, you don't have to get to work at the start. I will make sure you are fed well, taken care of well, even given respect. If someone doesn't, you just have to come to me, I'll take care of it." The offer was too tempting...

"What do you mean? How can I trust you?"

"So! You are considering it! Huh? Oh...you are indeed fragile, aren't you? What if I became yours?" He smiled innocently while saying that.

"Huh?" He pulled you closer, his lips almost touching yours, sending shivers down your spine.

"What say you? I'm ready to be yours to give you confirmation that I'll treat you better than those pesky little idiots who want to use you." You looked away...this felt strange but...yet, part of you wanted to be free...maybe this won't...

You faced him and pulled him a little closer to show you wanted to kiss him. He smirked and immediately pulled you into it, first lips, then your tongue.

You felt his smirk against your lips as he pulled you into the kiss, his hand firmly gripping the back of your neck. The intensity of the kiss made your mind spin, a whirlwind of emotions crashing over you. His lips were surprisingly soft yet demanding, his tongue exploring your mouth with a tantalizing mix of force and finesse.

As the kiss deepened, you felt his other hand slide down your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. The warmth of his body against yours was intoxicating, and despite the warning bells in your mind, you couldn't help but respond. Your hands found their way to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart mirroring your own.

He broke the kiss just long enough to whisper, "See? You feel it too, don't you? " His breath was hot against your lips, his eyes dark and filled with an intense desire.

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you pulled him back into the kiss, more fervent this time. Your hands roamed up to his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers. He responded with a low growl, his hands exploring your body with an urgency that made your pulse race.

The kiss became more heated, more desperate. You could feel his need matching your own, a fire that threatened to consume you both. His lips moved from your mouth to your jawline, trailing hot kisses down to your neck. He nipped at your skin, eliciting a gasp from you.

"You're mine," he murmured against your neck, his voice a mix of possessiveness and passion. "And I'll show you just how much you mean to me."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you tilted your head back, giving him better access. His kisses became more insistent, leaving a trail of fire wherever they touched. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but feel.

You felt his breath warm against your lips, and with a smirk, he closed the distance. The kiss was electrifying, a surge of emotions and sensations overwhelming your senses. His lips moved with a practiced, almost predatory grace, pulling you deeper into the moment. His hands roamed, one gripping your waist while the other tangled in your hair, holding you in place as if he owned you.

Your mind screamed to pull away, but your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving more. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and you granted it without thinking. The kiss deepened, his control over you intensifying. It was as if he was imprinting himself onto your very soul, claiming you with every movement, every touch.

A small part of you resisted, a whisper of doubt trying to break through the haze of desire. You managed to pull away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and yearning.

"What's wrong?" he whispered, his voice dripping with dark allure. "Don't tell me you're getting shy now."

You looked down, avoiding his piercing gaze, feeling a strange mix of shame and longing. "I...I shouldn't..."

"But you want to," he murmured, his fingers tracing the outline of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine. "Don't fight it, Rover. You deserve to feel good, to be free from all the lies and manipulations. Let me take care of you."

His words were like a spell, wrapping around you, making it hard to think straight. Part of you wanted to surrender completely, to let him take control and drown in the pleasure he promised. But another part, the part that still held onto your sense of self, kept you from giving in entirely.

"I...I need time," you whispered, stepping back slightly.

Scar's smile widened as he saw the conflict in your eyes. He stepped closer again, his voice a low, seductive whisper. "You liked it, didn't you? You don't have to say anything. I can see it in your eyes, in the way your body responded."

You bit your lip, unable to deny the truth in his words. Your silence was all the confirmation he needed. He reached out, gently cupping your chin, lifting your face to meet his gaze.

"Don't be shy," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. "It's natural to crave something real, something intense. Especially after being surrounded by so many lies and manipulations."

His touch was intoxicating, and you found yourself leaning into it despite your better judgment. The warmth of his hand, the softness of his lips as he pressed them against yours again—it was all too much and yet not enough.

"You don't have to be afraid," he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against your skin. "I can give you everything you need, everything you desire. Just let go."

His words were a siren song, tempting you to give in to the dark allure he offered. His hands moved with confident ease, one slipping around your waist to pull you closer, the other trailing up your back, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your resolve was crumbling, the line between right and wrong blurring with each passing second.

Scar's lips moved down to your neck, kissing and nipping at your skin, making you gasp. His hands roamed freely, exploring every inch of you, claiming you as his. The intensity of his touch, the passion in his kisses—it was all-consuming, leaving you breathless and wanting more.

"I'll give you a choice! A free will..! I can say those people won't give it to you. But I'm willing to give you a choice. If you want more of me...If you want this..." His voice trailed off as he unzipped his pants slightly. You felt your mouth begin to water, a primal part of you responding to the sight, but you fought to keep your composure. You weren't this shameful, were you?

"If you want, come here. Go on, choose...Which one?" He eyed you with anticipation, his words a dark temptation. You looked at his pants, feeling a magnetic pull, and began to move forward ever so slightly, hoping he wouldn't notice.

"If you walk away, nothing like this happened! I'll still take you away if you want...or...I still know you want to join, so it's no problem, Rover."

"Uhm..."

"Or you can come closer." You took a hesitant step forward, his smile widening with satisfaction. He could see your desire, but you remained rooted to the spot, unsure.

"I said closer," he demanded, his patience wearing thin as he grit his teeth.

You walked closer to him, feeling the tension in the air thickening. "Are you sure? Because once we begin, I won't let you go."

"It's fine," you whispered, barely audible, hoping it would please him.

"Louder. You do have a mouth." He traced your jawline to your lips, his fingers adoringly brushing over them, sending a wave of arousal through you. "Say it again, will you? Use the correct words."

"I—I choose you. So it's fine—please protect me?" you stammered, your voice trembling but louder this time.

Scar's smile widened even further, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. "That's better. Now come here." He pulled you into his arms, his lips crashing onto yours with renewed intensity. The kiss was possessive, consuming, and you couldn't help but melt into it.

"Please free Yangyang before..."

"Of course, Before that I just need something."

The moment Scar's lips touched your neck, a jolt of pleasure shot through your entire body. You felt his teeth graze your sensitive skin, leaving behind a mark—a claim that made your heart race and your stomach flutter with anticipation. As he guided your hand towards his zipper, you hesitated, but only for a moment. You wanted this, craved it even, and there was no turning back now.

As you slowly lowered the zipper, your fingers brushed against the hard length beneath, making you gasp into Scar's mouth. It was hot, throbbing, and ready for you. You wrapped your hand around it, feeling the smooth texture of his shaft, marveling at how perfectly it fit into your palm. Your movements were tentative at first, but soon, you found a rhythm, stroking him with increasing confidence.

"You are such a-" You snapped your eyes opened.

"I-I wasn't..." you stuttered, trying to defend yourself against Scar's knowing smirk. But the evidence was clear - your eyes had been fixed on his cock, drinking in the sight of it straining against the fabric of his pants. You'd been caught red-handed, and there was no denying it.

Scar chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrated through your body. "Oh, yes, you were," he purred, his fingers tracing gentle patterns along your inner thigh. "And I think we should reward that honesty, shouldn't we?"

Scar's voice was low and commanding as he spoke, his words dripping with desire. "Go ahead, baby. Take out my cock. I want to see those pretty hands of yours wrapped around it."

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing at the intensity in his eyes. Slowly, almost reverently, you reached for the bulge in his pants, your fingers brushing against the heated flesh within. With a soft hiss, you freed his cock from its confines, letting it spring up to stand proudly before you.

It was magnificent, thick and long, the tip already glistening with precum. You couldn't help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer size of it. Scar's chuckle broke the spell, and you looked up to meet his gaze, a blush staining your cheeks.

"Now, stroke it for me," he commanded, his voice rough with need.

The moment Scar's fingers grazed your clit, you let out a sharp gasp, your body arching into his touch. He watched you squirm with an intense satisfaction, relishing in the way your body responded to his touch. His fingers moved deftly over the sensitive nub, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins.

"Fuck, look at you," he murmured, his voice laced with lust. "So responsive, so fucking perfect." His other hand snaked around to cup one of your breasts, thumb flicking over a hardened nipple through the fabric of your shirt.

His cock throbbed in your grasp, demanding attention, but you were too consumed by the sensations coursing through you to pay it much mind.

With a sudden force, Scar pushed you down onto the ground, his hands gripping your thighs firmly. You let out a surprised yelp, but the sound quickly turned into a moan as he bit down on the tender flesh of your inner thigh, marking you once again.

He continued to tease your clit with his fingers, the pressure building until you thought you might explode. His free hand reached between your legs, slipping beneath the edge of your panties to find your slick folds. A groan rumbled in his chest as he discovered just how wet you were for him.

"Look at you," he said, his voice husky with lust. "So fucking ready for me."

The combination of Scar's bites and relentless fingering was driving you wild, your moans growing louder with each passing second. Your body writhed beneath him, desperate for more contact, more friction.

"You like that, don't you?" Scar growled, his voice thick with lust. "You love having my cock in your hands, don't you? Love feeling how hard I am for you?"

His question was rhetorical, and you knew it. There was no denying the truth of his words. You loved it, reveled in the power he held over you. His cock pulsed in your grip, and you squeezed it tighter, a small act of rebellion against his control.

But then his fingers slipped lower, finding your entrance and teasing it gently.

With deliberate slowness, Scar teased your entrance, circling the pad of his finger around your slick folds without actually penetrating you. The sensation was maddening, sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves. You bucked your hips, trying to gain some sort of relief, but Scar merely laughed, his breath hot against your skin.

"Not yet, little lamb," he whispered, his voice a seductive purr. "I want you begging for it. Begging for my cock inside you."

His fingers left your pussy, trailing upwards to circle your clit once more. You whimpered, your body aching for more. But Scar was in charge, and he clearly enjoyed torturing you with the promise of what was to come.

"You look so damn cute like this," Scar murmured, watching you writhe beneath him. His fingers continued their maddening dance on your clit, drawing out your pleasure inch by agonizing inch. Despite your whimpers and pleas, he didn't push his cock inside you, instead choosing to torment you further.

The pressure built within you, coiling tight like a spring about to snap. Your climax washed over you in waves, your body shaking as you cried out, overwhelmed by the intensity of it. But even as your orgasm subsided, Scar didn't give you the relief you craved.

Instead, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss that stole your breath away. His tongue explored your mouth, claiming it as his own. Only then did he finally push his cock inside you, filling you completely.

Despite your cries for him to stop, Scar only teased you more, his fingers still moving in slow, maddening circles around your clit. Each brush sent another jolt of pleasure coursing through your veins, but it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough.

You bucked your hips, trying to get him to move faster, but he merely laughed, the sound vibrating through your body. His kisses trailed downwards, from your lips to your neck, and then to the swell of your breasts. As his mouth closed over a hardened nipple, you arched off the ground, crying out his name.

"Oh,.. Scar!" you moaned, your hands clenching in frustration. But he didn't seem to hear you, too lost in the pleasure of sucking on your nipples.

Scar's tongue swirled around your nipple, sending bolts of pleasure straight to your core. He sucked on it gently, nibbling at the sensitive bud with his teeth. All the while, his fingers kept up their relentless assault on your clit, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

You writhed beneath him, your body a mass of conflicting sensations. His cock filled you completely, stretching you deliciously, while his tongue worked magic on your breasts. And his fingers... oh god, his fingers...

With a strangled cry, you came undone once more, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. As your orgasm began to subside, Scar slowed his thrusts, focusing instead on your clit. His fingers traced lazy patterns over the sensitive nub, coaxing out every last drop of pleasure from your quivering body.

"Feel good?" he asked, his voice low and husky. "Does my little lamb enjoy being fucked?"

You couldn't form a coherent response, too caught up in the waves of pleasure that rippled through you. Instead, you nodded frantically, your hands clutching at anything they could find - Scar's shoulders, the grass beneath you, your own hair.

Scar grinned, a wicked glint in his eye. "That's what I thought," he said, before resuming his relentless pace.

Scar's tongue lapped at your clit, his fingers curling inside you to hit that sweet spot. Every now and then, he would flick his tongue over the sensitive nub, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. But despite the pleasure he was giving you, he refused to push you over the edge.

"No need to apologize, baby," he murmured against your skin. "I like it when you're demanding."

His words were followed by another flick of his tongue, and you gasped, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him closer to your throbbing clit. "Please..." you whimpered, your body aching for release. "I can't take it anymore..."

Scar's tongue continued its relentless assault on your clit, swirling and flicking in ways that made your head spin. His fingers pumped in and out of you, hitting all the right spots to keep the pleasure building. You cried out, your voice high and shrill, echoing through the clearing.

"Fuck, you're so wet for me," Scar groaned, his voice muffled against your skin. "Your pussy is clenching around my cock, begging for more."

His words sent another surge of arousal coursing through you. You wanted more. Needed more. But Scar was in control, and he seemed to be enjoying the torture far too much to let you come anytime soon.

As your orgasm built, threatening to overwhelm you, Scar slowed down again, teasing you mercilessly.

Scar pulled back just enough to speak, his voice a husky whisper against your overheated skin. "Not yet, We're not done here." His fingers slid out of you, leaving you empty and aching for more. But he didn't leave you waiting long. Instead, he replaced his fingers with his tongue, pushing it deep inside you. The sensation was overwhelming, sending shocks of pleasure radiating outward from your core.

You cried out, your body arching off the ground as he licked and sucked at your pussy. His tongue was relentless, exploring every inch of you, driving you higher and higher towards the edge. But no matter how hard you begged, Scar wouldn't let you cross over.

"You're so close," he growled, his voice vibrating against your sensitive flesh. "But I want you to beg for it. Beg for my cock."

"Please!!! Ah!!"

Despite your protests, Scar only intensified his efforts, his tongue flicking over your clit in rapid succession. Each stroke sent sparks of pleasure shooting through your body, making your legs tremble. But he wasn't satisfied with just your clit. He pushed his tongue deeper inside you, exploring every crevice and curve until you thought you'd go insane.

"You're a bad man-"

"Bad man, huh?" he teased, his voice muffled against your heated flesh. "And here I thought you liked it rough."

He punctuated each word with a firm suck on your clit, sending you spiraling towards obliviation. You cried out again, louder this time, your voice breaking with desperation. "Please... I need you," you pleaded, your body shaking with need.

But Scar only chuckled, the sound vibrating through your entire body. "No, you don't need me."

"Huh? What?!"

"No, you don't need me," Scar repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You're perfectly capable of coming on your own."

He punctuated his statement with a particularly harsh suck on your clit, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. Your body arched off the ground, desperate for relief, but Scar just laughed, the sound dark and mocking.

"Oh, look at her, so sorry she can't get off without me," he sneered, his breath hot against your sensitive flesh. "Such a dirty, needy little slut."

The crude words should have repulsed you, but instead, they only fueled your desire. You were beyond shame, lost in a haze of lust and need. All that mattered was the pleasure he was giving you, the way his tongue could reduce you to a mindless, writhing mess.

"Please!! Ah!!"

Scar's laughter was low and menacing, his tone laced with pure, unadulterated lust. "Oh, you like that? You like being called a dirty little whore?"

His words were accompanied by a particularly vicious suck on your clit, causing your whole body to convulse in response. The sensation was almost too much to bear, but Scar showed no signs of letting up. Instead, he intensified his efforts, his tongue delving deeper into your folds while his fingers worked overtime to stretch and fill you.

"You're such a greedy little thing," he taunted, his voice thick with arousal. "begging for more. needing more."

Despite his crude language, there was an undeniable edge of excitement in his voice. It was clear that he was enjoying himself, reveling in the power he held over your quivering form.

"It's because you-!" You tried to say back something.

Scar's laughter echoed through the clearing, a dark and menacing sound that sent shivers racing down your spine. "Imagine this! IOh I know, you'd love that, wouldn't you? Tied up and helpless while I take what I want."

His words were punctuated by another firm thrust of his fingers, stretching you wide and filling you completely. His other hand never left your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts.

"I'd start with your tight little asshole," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper against your overheated skin. "I'd fuck you raw until you're nothing but a whimpering mess beneath me."

Scar's laughter was low and menacing, his tone laced with pure, unadulterated lust. "Then I'd move onto your tight little cunt," he growled, his voice thick with arousal. "I'd fuck you so hard, you won't remember your own name. Oh wait, You don't remember it anyways."

His words were accompanied by another firm thrust of his fingers, stretching you wide and filling you completely. His other hand never left your clit, his thumb circling the sensitive bud in rhythm with his thrusts.

"And when you think you can't take anymore," he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive purr, "I'll flip you over and take your mouth. I'm going to fuck your face until you can't breathe, until you're choking on my cock."

"I don't think I would choke-"

Scar's laughter was low and menacing, his tone laced with pure, unadulterated lust. "Oh, you think you won't choke on it?" He mocked, his voice thick with amusement. "You really are a naive little thing, aren't you?"

"But we'll find out, won't we?" he continued, his voice dropping to a seductive purr. "We'll see if you can handle everything I've got to give."

Scar watched as your eyelids fluttered closed, your body trembling under his touch. He grinned, satisfaction rolling off him in waves. "Looks like someone's about to pass out from pleasure."

With a wicked chuckle, he leaned down to capture your lips once more, this time pressing a deep, possessive kiss upon them. His tongue invaded your mouth, exploring every inch with a voracious hunger. His free hand roamed across your body, pinching and tweaking your nipples until they stood erect, hard peaks begging for attention.

And then, without warning, Scar pulled back, leaving you panting and dazed. "But don't worry," he whispered, his voice a sultry murmur that sent chills down your spine. "I haven't even started yet."

You felt Scar dress you again, his touch surprisingly gentle. Slowly, he lifted you up.

"Ugh, didn't you promise to leave me alone with Rover?" His voice grew irritated.

"Why is her hair all messed up? Did you fight with her? And what happened to you? How in the world are you carrying her?"

Scar's tone was dismissive. "What? No worries, I know all the dos and don'ts. I don't need you to tell me what to do. As for my darling, she did agree to join us. She accepted it; I only gave her a choice."

"What choice? Joining the—" She glanced at you, fainted and resting peacefully in his arms like a little cat.

"Her neck? Why? You—"

"I did ask her. I didn't give my first yet, Sister. Go on now, I need to free that useless person and carry her. Can't wait to show her my bedroom."

"Keep your words to yourself. I don't want to hear anything."

"Well, you are just jealous I got the Rover to agree with me."

With a snap of his fingers, Yangyang was dropped to the side. The other person with him used her power to ensure she remained unconscious.

"Great work! Let's get going, shall we?" Though unconscious, you were having a dream. You tugged at Scar's clothes and buried your face into his chest. The girl at his side looked worried.

"What was that?"

"Do you think I know it all? Though, she must be having a bad dream for sure."

"Was this your choice?" you heard, awakening to the person you saw when you first opened your eyes.

"I..."

"Are you happy with it?"

"I don't want to be used... Please, I don't think—"

"It's fine. Be yourself. It's your choice... Y/n L/n."

"Who's Y/n L/n?"

"That's your name."

"Ahhh!" You screamed and woke up to a bedroom? You felt someone's hand on your head. You looked up to see a man smiling. Yeah, All the things you did rushed into your head.

"What is it dear Rover? Did you dream something bad?"

"It's nothing..

You felt a sudden rush of clarity as your memories began to resurface. Slowly, you remembered your name, a piece of your identity that had been obscured for so long. With a mixture of excitement and nervousness, you decided to share this revelation with Scar.

"I remember my name," you whispered, looking up at him with wide eyes. "It's Y/n L/n

Scar's reaction was immediate and unsettling. He threw his head back and laughed maniacally, the sound echoing through the room. His eyes gleamed with a twisted amusement as he looked back at you.

"Oh, how pathetically cute," he sneered, leaning in closer. "You chose to tell me something so important first. You really are quite the entertaining little pet." His words were laced with a sinister delight, making you shiver under his intense gaze.

Without warning, Scar pulled you into a searing kiss, his lips claiming yours with a fierce possessiveness. His tongue delved deep, tangling with yours in a dance that left you breathless and wanting more.

As he ravaged your mouth, his hand slipped between your thighs once again, finding your sensitive clit with ease. He began to circle the delicate nub with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

The dual assault on your senses - the passionate kiss and the expert stimulation of your clit - quickly pushed you to the brink of ecstasy. Your hips bucked against his hand, seeking more friction, more relief from the intense pleasure building inside you.

Scar broke the kiss, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he gazed down at you with a hungry, predatory look.

Scar's fingers plunged deeper into your slick folds, pumping in and out with ruthless efficiency. Each thrust hit that sweet spot inside you, sending jolts of electric pleasure racing up your spine.

"You're so tight, so wet," he groaned, his pace quickening as he chased your impending climax. "I can feel you squeezing my fingers, begging for release."

His words were a filthy promise, a dark vow to bring you to the pinnacle of ecstasy before tearing you apart. You could feel your orgasm building, coiling tighter and tighter in your core until it threatened to consume you whole.

Suddenly, Scar withdrew his fingers, leaving you empty and aching. Before you could protest, he flipped you onto your stomach, pressing your face into the mattress as he positioned himself behind you.

Before you could process his words, Scar had swiftly bound your wrists together behind your back, securing them with rough ropes that bit into your skin. The sudden restriction only heightened your arousal, making your nipples harden and your pussy clench around nothing.

"Now, isn't this a sight to behold?" Scar whispered in your ear, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "My beautiful pet, helpless and waiting for me."

Without another word, he aligned himself with your entrance, the head of his cock pressing insistently against your slick folds. With a firm push, he entered you, filling you completely with his throbbing length.

The sensation of being stretched and claimed by Scar was overwhelming, pushing you closer to the edge than ever before.

Scar began to move, setting a punishing rhythm that had your entire body shaking. With each powerful thrust, he drove deeper, hitting spots within you that you didn't know existed.

"Fuck, you're so tight," Scar groaned, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he pounded into you. "I love how you squeeze my cock."

Each word was punctuated by a deep thrust, his cock slamming into your cervix with brutal force. The pain mingled with the pleasure, creating a perfect storm of sensations that had you seeing stars.

"Look at you," Scar hissed, leaning down to bite down on your shoulder. "Taking my cock so well."

The pain from Scar's bite only served to heighten your pleasure, making your cries louder and more desperate. You could taste blood on your tongue, a metallic flavor that only added to the depravity of the moment.

As Scar continued to pound into you, you returned the favor, sinking your teeth into his neck. The action wasn't meant to hurt him, but rather to mark him as yours, even if only for a fleeting moment.

"God, you're such a wild thing," Scar moaned, feeling your teeth sink into his flesh. "Biting me like that... it only makes me want you more."

Despite the bindings on your wrists, despite the pain and pleasure coursing through your veins, you found yourself moving against Scar, meeting each of his thrusts with your own.

As Scar's thrusts grew more erratic, you could tell he was close to cumming. But instead of giving in to his own release, he abruptly pulled out of you, leaving you aching and empty.

Before you could protest, he grabbed your bound wrists and yanked you up to your feet, spinning you around to face the mirror. Your reflection stared back at you, a mess of tangled hair, flushed cheeks, and glazed eyes.

Scar stepped up behind you, his hard cock bobbing against your ass. "Look at yourself," he commanded, his voice low and husky. "See how much you want me?"

He reached around to cup your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples as he leaned in to whisper in your ear. "I'm going to make you wait, Y/n L/n. I'm going to tease you until you're begging for it."

Scar's hands left your breasts to trail down your stomach, his fingers dipping between your legs to tease your sensitive clit. "Count for me, pet," he instructed, his breath hot against your ear. "How many times will I fuck you before you break?"

With that, he drove his cock into you, stretching you open once again. You gasped at the intrusion, your body instinctively trying to push back against him.

"One," you managed to choke out, your voice strained with pleasure and need.

Scar set a relentless pace, pounding into you with abandon. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making it difficult to focus on anything but the sensation of being filled so completely.

"Two," you cried out, your hips bucking back against him in desperation. "Three... four..."

Forcing you to watch your reflection in the mirror, Scar leaned in close, his lips grazing your earlobe as he whispered his filthy promises. His voice was low, almost a growl, filled with lust and domination.

"Watch yourself come undone under me, pet," he murmured, his hand sliding down to pinch your nipple harshly. "Watch as your body betrays you, writhing and quivering with every thrust of my cock."

His other hand slipped between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it in tight circles. The dual assault on your senses had your knees weakening, your breath coming in short gasps.

"Five... six..." you panted, your voice barely above a whisper.

Scar's mouth descended upon your neck, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh with enough force to draw a sharp intake of breath from you. He moaned loudly, his voice reverberating against your skin, as he felt your walls clench around him.

"You're so fucking tight," he groaned, his movements becoming more erratic as he neared his peak. "Y/n."

His voice trailed off into a guttural moan as he drove into you harder, faster. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, along with your muffled cries and his grunts of pleasure.

"Seven... eight..." you whimpered, your body trembling with anticipation.

Feeling your climax building, Scar intensified his assault on your senses. His tongue snaked out to lick your earlobe, then sucked it gently into his mouth, adding yet another layer of pleasure to the mix.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed, his cock pulsing inside you as he approached his own orgasm. "Come for me, . Let go and show me just how much you love my cock."

His fingers abandoned your clit, instead reaching around to circle your swollen clit with his thumb, applying just the right amount of pressure to send you spiraling towards oblivian.

"Nine... ten..." you tried to count, but the pleasure was too intense, your mind too fogged with desire. Instead, all you could do was moan his name, over and over, as your body convulsed with the force of your orgasm.

As Scar's climax washed over him, his cock twitched and spasmed inside you, filling you with his hot seed. But instead of collapsing onto you in satisfaction, he withdrew quickly, his cock glistening with your combined juices.

Without warning, he shifted positions, positioning himself at your entrance once more. This time, however, he didn't thrust in, but rather rubbed the head of his cock against your slick folds.

"I'm not done with you yet, pet," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "Not by a long shot."

Scar continued to rub his cock against your pussy, teasing you mercilessly. His touch was light, almost gentle, but the effect was far from soothing. Every stroke sent jolts of pleasure shooting through your body, leaving you aching for more.

"Beg me to fuck you," Scar commanded, his voice low and husky. "Tell me how much you need it."

"I-!!!!" He starts to blindfold you.

Blindfolded and at Scar's mercy, you were completely vulnerable to his whims. When he finally pushed into you, it felt like a dream - or a nightmare. His cock stretched you wide, hitting depths you hadn't known existed.

Each slow, deliberate thrust sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, making it impossible to think, to breathe, to do anything but feel. Scar's grip on your hips tightened as he picked up speed, driving into you with increasing intensity.

The sounds of skin slapping against skin, your panting breaths, and Scar's deep groans filled the air, creating an erotic symphony that matched the rhythm of his thrusts. With each plunge, he hit that sweet spot within you, sending sparks of ecstasy radiating outward.

"Please untie me for-" Your pleas for release fell on deaf ears as Scar continued to pound into you, his grip on your wrists unyielding. But when you begged him to untie you, his pace faltered for a moment.

"Why?" he asked, his voice rough with desire. "What do you plan to do with those hands if I let them free?"

Despite the question, Scar loosened his hold, allowing you to slip your bound hands behind your back. As soon as you did, you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him closer.

"Please," you whispered, nuzzling your face against his chest. "I want to touch you. I want to feel every inch of you."

Scar laughed, a dark, wicked sound that seemed to vibrate through your entire body. It only spurred him on, and he began to fuck you even harder than before. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, leaving you gasping and clinging to him for support.

He gripped your waist tighter, holding you steady as he drove into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot again and again. The sensation was overwhelming, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

When you dared to reach up and kiss him, your lips crashed against his in a fierce, passionate embrace. Your teeth grazed his lower lip, a playful nip that made Scar groan deeply.

Scar kissed you deeply, his tongue exploring the warmth of your mouth as he savored the taste of your lips. He pulled away only when you started to drool, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"You're such a mess," he teased, his voice dripping with amusement. "And I love it."

He leaned down to capture your lips once more, his kiss lingering and possessive. You could taste yourself on his lips, a reminder of what had just transpired between you.

Scar watched as you slid off the bed, kneeling beside him. He was still hard, his cock glistening with your combined fluids. A smirk played on his lips as he watched you lean forward, your tongue darting out to lick a trail along his length.

Your tongue traced patterns on his shaft, tasting every inch of him. The salty sweetness of his precum mingled with the muskiness of his arousal, an intoxicating mix that left you craving more.

Slowly, deliberately, you took the head of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. You could hear Scar's sharp intake of breath, a sign that you were doing something right.

Scar's hands found their way to your head, tangling in your hair as he guided you. With each thrust of his hips, he pushed deeper into your mouth, his cock sliding past your lips and brushing against the back of your throat.

The position allowed him to control the depth and pace of your movements, and he used it to his advantage. He fucked your mouth with abandon, his grunts and groans growing louder with each passing second.

Every now and then, he would pull back just enough to allow you to catch your breath, only to push forward again moments later.

Scar pulled away suddenly, his cock slipping from your lips with a soft pop. Before you could react, he grasped your face in his hands and pressed your mouth against his abdomen, coating your face with his hot, sticky cum.

"You look so beautiful like this," he purred, his voice thick with satisfaction. "All messy and covered in my seed."

He rubbed his cum into your skin, marking you as his own. You could feel it dripping down your chin, onto your breasts, and pooling in your cleavage. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air, a potent reminder of what had just transpired between you.

Scar pulled you close, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate kiss. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your back, moving lower until they found your ass cheeks.

He squeezed and kneaded the flesh, his touch firm yet gentle. His fingers dipped lower, teasing the edges of your pussy lips before delving deeper. He explored every fold and crevice, his touch light and teasing.

As he continued to kiss you, his fingers worked magic on your sensitive flesh, bringing you closer and closer to the brink.

Scar's fingers worked quickly, untying the ropes that bound your wrists. Once freed, he pushed you gently onto all fours, positioning himself behind you. His cock stood erect, throbbing with need.

Without another word, he grabbed your hips firmly, guiding you down onto his length. As you lowered yourself onto him, he groaned deeply, a sound of pure pleasure that echoed throughout the room.

"Now," he murmured, his voice raspy with desire. "Bounce on my cock, pet."

You began to move, your hips swiveling and grinding against Scar's as you bounced up and down on his cock. The sensation was incredible, his thickness filling you completely with each stroke.

"Yes, just like that," Scar encouraged, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he helped guide your movements. "Take what you need, pet. Ride me hard."

His words spurred you on, and you increased your pace, slamming down onto him with reckless abandon. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, punctuated by Scar's moans and your own cries of pleasure.

Scar's hands moved from your hips to your thighs, spreading them wider to give him better access. He leaned forward, his chest pressing against your back as he began to thrust upward, meeting each of your downward strokes with forceful thrusts of his own.

"Fuck...you're so tight," Scar breathed heavily, his voice laced with lust. "I'm going to fill you up again, pet."

Scar's thrusts grew more erratic, his cock pulsing inside you as he neared his climax. You could feel his balls tightening, preparing to release another load deep within your womb.

With a final, powerful thrust, Scar buried himself to the hilt inside you. His cock spasmed, shooting rope after rope of hot, sticky cum directly into your awaiting cervix.

As he emptied himself into you, Scar's grip on your thighs tightened almost painfully, holding you in place as he rode out the waves of his orgasm. Your own pleasure peaked in tandem with his, sending you careening over the edge into ecstasy.

Finally, Scar collapsed onto you, his chest heaving with exertion. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, staining the sheets beneath you. It was a symbol of his possession, a reminder of the intense connection you shared.

Scar looked at you, a playful glint in his eye. "You know, pet," he said, his voice low and husky. "It might be fun to see how well you can handle things when you're on the other side of those ropes."

A devilish smile spread across his face as he sat up, his cock still semi-hard despite having just climaxed. "Why don't we tie me up and see if you can make me scream your name?"

The suggestion sent a thrill through you, the idea of being able to dominate Scar for a change. Without hesitation, you scrambled off his lap, grabbing the discarded ropes and tying his wrists securely together behind his back.

"I don't know how to do a knot.."

Scar chuckled, shaking his head at your apparent lack of experience. "Well, I guess I'll just have to show you how it's done," he teased, winking at you.

He shifted on the bed, allowing you easy access to his body. You gingerly wrapped the ropes around his wrists, trying to mimic the knots you'd seen earlier. Despite your clumsiness, Scar remained patient, offering guidance where needed.

"I think you've got the hang of it," he said encouragingly once you'd finished knotting the ropes. "Now, let's see how good you are at using these."

Scar's voice was calm and steady, but there was an underlying thread of anticipation. "Loop the strap one more time, pet. Make sure it's snug against my hip."

You did as instructed, carefully weaving the leather strap around his waist before securing it with a final knot. Scar tested the restraints, a low grunt escaping his lips as he confirmed they held him firmly in place.

"Now," he said, his gaze locked onto yours, "what are you going to do with me?"

Scar laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed throughout the room. "Don't worry about me, pet," he assured you, his tone playful yet comforting. "I can take it."

His confident demeanor did little to ease your worries, however. The thought of causing him pain – even if it was consensual – made you pause, your fingers hovering over the knots tha secured the straps.

But then, Scar's expression softened, his eyes darkening with lust and something else – a hint of tenderness. "Just focus on making me scream your name," he whispered, leaning in close enough for you to smell the musk of his arousal.

"But what if your hands turn purple or bruise? What if you get hurt because of me?" Your concern was palpable, your brow furrowed in a worried frown as you gazed at Scar's restrained form.

Scar's expression turned serious, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "Pet, I've been in worse situations than this," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Trust me, I can handle whatever you dish out."

He paused, studying you intently. "Besides, if it makes you feel any better, I'll wear a gag. That way, even if I do try to tell you to stop, you won't be able to hear me." A mischievous glint sparkled in his eye as he added, "And who knows, maybe I'll enjoy the silence."

Scar shifted his hips, drawing your attention to his throbbing member. Even bound and helpless, he had the ability to stir your desire, his cock twitching with every pulse of blood rushing through its length.

Without warning, he started to rub his shaft against your sensitive clit, the friction sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. "Does that help ease your mind, pet?" he asked, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and carnal intent.

Despite your initial concerns, the sensation of his hard cock rubbing against your clit was too much to resist. You bit your lip, stifling a moan as you leaned into his touch, craving more of the exquisite pleasure he offered.

Scar's movements became sudden and fluid as he broke free from the restraints, his strength surprising you given his recent exertions. In an instant, he pinned you beneath him, his weight pressing down upon you as he loomed over your prone form.

"You naughty girl," he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Tying me up like that. Did you really think you could control me?"

One hand gripped your wrist tightly, while the other slid between your legs, his fingers seeking out your slick folds. "Looks like someone's enjoying this a bit too much," he teased, his thumb circling your clit with deliberate slowness. "You wanted revenge, didn't you? Wanted to see me squirm under your touch."

Scar nipped at your earlobe, a sharp bite that drew a gasp from your lips. "I may have suggested it, pet," he murmured, his voice a sultry whisper that sent chills down your spine. "But you were the one who took charge."

He released your wrist, only to replace it with his cock, thrusting gently against your entrance. "Seems like you're not the only one enjoying this," he continued, a smirk playing on his lips. "Your pussy is so wet for me, isn't it?"

With each word, Scar pushed his hips forward, grinding his erection against your clenching walls. The dual sensations – the pinch of his teeth on your ear and the pressure of his dick against your slick heat – left you breathless, your body arching up to meet his thrusts.

Scar continued to tease your entrance with his throbbing cock, reveling in the slick warmth that greeted him. He shifted his position, aligning his tip with your eager opening, and without another word, he plunged inside you.

The feeling of being filled to the brink was overwhelming, stretching your inner walls deliciously. Scar began to move, setting a rhythm that was both relentless and intoxicating. Each thrust drove deeper, harder, leaving you gasping for air as waves of pleasure crashed over you.

"Fuck, pet...you're so tight," Scar groaned, his voice strained with effort. His grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer to meet his every stroke. "You're gonna make me cum soon..."

His words alone were enough to send you spiraling towards climax, but it was the unyielding pace of his hips that finally pushed you over the edge.

As you teetered on the brink of ecstasy, Scar's words cut through the haze of pleasure, his husky tone sending shivers down your spine. "Want to come, pet? Want to let go and ride this wave until we both break apart?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with promise and danger. With each thrust, he seemed to grow larger, filling you completely. The sensation bordered on painful, but it was a sweet ache, a reminder of just how deep he could reach within you.

"I'm going to breed you tonight, pet," Scar rasped, his breath hot against your ear. "Fill this pretty cunt with my seed until you're overflowing with it. You ready to be claimed, to be marked as mine?"

His filthy words were the final push you needed, sending you careening into oblivion

The entire night was filled with lustful love, wet noises and moans, He was louder than you thought. As a joke he revealed that anyone can come if noises were made. The door wasn't locked.

No one came, But you didn't care to hold noises. He kissed you so much that you felt safe...

Joining the Fractsidus...Was it Mistake or Was it the correct choice?

That's up to you to decide.

#wuwa #wuwa x reader #scar x reader wuwa #wuwa scar #wuthering waves smut #scar smut #wuwa smut #wuwa x y/n #wuthering waves #wuthering waves scar #scar x reader smut #scar x reader #wuwa x you

134 notes · View notes

two-white-butterflies · 6 months ago

Text

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part six

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

<<previous chapter

"To hold on, to the days when you were mine." - Peter, Taylor Swift.

These past few days, something has deeply changed in Daemon's psyche. He was always a neat freak, preferring to remain polished and clean on the outside while his mind was an overgrowth of plants that clouded his thoughts. He couldn't think straight then - but he kept a facade, pretending that he was sane. He wasn't.

Since seeing you in St. Joseph, he's lost all remnants of himself - the facade broke down and he was thrown into disarray. "Why is your shirt always untucked?" you chuckled, taking a step forward, as if it was second nature to fix his polo and tuck it into his pants.

"I was rushing," he found himself mumbling, confused at your sudden proximity to him. How long has it been since he's felt you? Had his fingers dance against your skin and body? You were always warm, and that was all he remembered about you.

Everything seemed to zone out in the background. He almost forgot that he was in a parking lot, and the sound of cars zoomed past him. All he could see was you, all that he could hear was you. He takes a deep breath, quickly composing himself.

"I'm sorry about what happened yesterday, Rhaenyra herself even admitted that it was wrong. We shouldn't have fought in front of a guest." he apologized, forcing a tight-lipped smile. "If I'm lucky, I won't be a guest for long." you teased, fixing the strap of the handbag on your shoulder. "Mhm." was all he could muster.

The thought of you being married to his nephew made him want to puke. It made him want to kill himself.

He senses the awkwardness, he decides to clear his throat and look at his watch. "I guess this is goodbye. I'm running late for a meeting." he lied, staring at the side. "Of course, nice talking to you." you answered, equally as awkward as his intonation.

"See you tomorrow?" he smiled, walking past you.

"See you tomorrow." you replied, but he was too far to hear.

(ISLAND NEAR THE GHISCARIS)

Your mother descended from a long line of voyagers. Her family remained in Lyss, and life led her to Westeros. The skill of voyaging was long lost. You couldn't command a ship, even if your life depended on it - luckily, you were able to meet a group of female pirates on their way to the liberated islands near the Ghiscari Empire.

It was untouched due the large wall-like fortress that surrounded the shores. "I am surprised by your aptitude, not a lot of people appreciate the oceans well." Serenei, the woman that promised to keep you safe, handed you a cup of tea, the liquid inside of the cup was moving back and forth due to the waves.

"It's much like riding a dragon, though you shouldn't compliment me that much - I emptied my stomach a few hours ago." you giggled, remembering the reddish hue that your face turned into. Oh, your ancestors were turning in their graves. "Don't worry, it'll only be a few more hours until we reach the shores of Pharmaka." she placed a hand on your shoulder.

There was silence between the both of you, in fear of the unknown. You stared at the small round window beside you.

Would Daemon love the ocean too? You remember the War of the Stepstones. A sigh escapes your mouth, the wars have marred him and he wouldn't have loved the smell of salt air as much as you. "It's an island filled with women, not a single man is allowed." Serenei continued with a smile, and for a moment you pondered if she went though the same things that you did.

You shake your head. You wish that she didn't.

"It must be heaven, then?" Alyssandra leaned on the doorframe, trying to keep herself steady due to the treacherous waves that pumped against the ship's bodice.

"It is - utopia is what they call themselves." Serenei continued telling the story, a smile ghosts your face. Your life had turned into a story indeed, finding true love with a Dragon Prince - losing him and being forced to live through the tragedy in Harrenhal, and now you were halfway across the world, riding a ship that is going to a place that calls themself utopia.

(ST. JOSEPH SCHOOL OF DRAGONSTONE)

The steam of your coffee littered your face with kisses, and a groan escapes your mouth. You couldn't believe that you feel asleep through your entire free period. Those dreams weren't stopping, but the scenarios were drastically changing.

At first, they were filled with love - of scenes with you and the 'Dragon Prince' then they changed into nightmares - of ones that you couldn't remember, only waking up in tears - but now, you were in a ship to some unknown island that made you feel hopeful.

Once the story ends, would you be free of those dreams? Would you be free to live your life without those headaches that forced your head open, telling you that there was something that you forgot?

AEMOND NEW SIM How are you? You haven't messaged me in a while :(

YOU sorry i fell asleep hehehahaha 😭

AEMOND NEW SIM Sleeping on duty? tskk

Daemon interrupts you from replying by sitting next to you. There was a pang in your heart, something deep inside your mind telling you to run towards him and offer him a warm embrace. Flashes from your dreams come to you. The small round window, the small of salt breeze and his lavender eyes that felt like a thousand sleepless nights cuddled by the fire.

"Congratulations." Daemon opened his mouth to speak. He stared deep into your eyes, almost peering inside your soul. There wasn't an expression in your face that he hasn't seen a million times. "For what?" you inquired with a slight smile.

"The students proficiency in math has improved since you started teaching them." he informed, and you quickly remember that he attended a meeting earlier today.

A nervous chuckle escapes your mouth.

"They're struggling with the basic stuff, things that they're supposed to know in the first and second grade. I try to go back to those topics before getting back into the complex stuff." you explained, and the smile returns to your face, happy to speak about your passion.

"Whatever you're doing, it seems to be working." he continued to compliment, liking that look in your eyes - the fire. Your body shifts unconsciously, your elbows much closer to his. Your coffee has long gotten rid of its heat, but there was still a million things you had to talk about with him.

"By the way, I thought that you were familiar even before I got to know you - then Harwin and the family talked about that trip to Italy that we both had at the same day. I know it sound a little weird, but I'm pretty sure that the picture you posted on your instagram was taken by me." you opened up the conversation, and he freezes like a deer caught in headlights.

August 23. He remembered vividly, right after you took that picture of him, he promptly collapsed on the curb and was brought to a hospital. That was also the day that he finished remembering his past life. His memories were revived by you?

"A funny coincidence," he managed to choke out.

The Gods were playing a cruel joke.

He stares at your face, seeing your squinting eyes - waiting for his reply. He decides that this might be the right time to talk about Tirano. "When you left, I actually collapsed." he chuckled, playing with the ring on his finger.

"What? Why?" your eyebrows merged into each other.

"I don't know if I'm the only one but - when I was younger I used to dream about weird things, dragons, kings, wars. At first, my parents thought that it was just the result of an overactive mind but the dreams persisted until I turned into an adult - actually I think I was in my late thirties or early fourties when they stopped. It stopped after that trip to Tirano." he monologued, now evading your gaze.

If you weren't able to make the connection, then he would've revealed himself for nothing. "I dream about those things too. Strange." you whispered, your voice suddenly decreasing in volume. "I'm not the only one then," he looked to the side.

"But you said that they stopped? How did they stop?" you asked, wanting to rid yourself of those nightmares. He smiled, remembering seeing your face before everything faded to black.

"I dreamed about myself dying, and after waking up in a hospital bed feeling like I slept a million years, I never dreamt about it again." he confirmed and your heart sinks to your chest. "Holy shit, this sounds so fanatically cultish." you cursed. "- you're telling me that I need to die in the dream to stop dreaming about it again?" you repeated.

He replies with a shrug.

"Well that's going to take a long time. I'm in like, Act Three of the whole novel." you decided to keep the conversation light, although the topic was serious and you weren't sure if you were there to believe him. "How many acts are there?" he raised an eyebrow. "How many acts are in Madame Butterfly?" you quizzed.

"Three...so you're near the end." he smiled. "I'm not sure, for all we know it might just be the end of the beginning." you answered.

He stands up, hearing the bells ring.

"Whatever it is, I'm sure that you'll find a cure of your own." he bid his goodbyes and disappeared from the teacher's lounge.

AEMOND NEW SIM Can you pls catch a ride with someone u work with? I'm a little busy here in mom's house She's moving a few things Yknow her trip to Turkey

YOU Okay, what time will u be home?

AEMOND NEW SIM Probably before dinner If I'm out past six have dinner before me

YOU Alright, take care

next part >>

170 notes · View notes

hellshire-harlot · 22 days ago

Text

Father of Serpents | Albert Wesker x Reader Halloween Special

Taglist: @gothghostiie @weskie @destinationtrekk @nomansgunssmoke

The stone altar beneath you is cold, bitterly so, sapping the warmth from your bare skin.

Despite your best efforts, you can’t escape the cruel fetters keeping you bound. Spread-eagle, chained to the slab of granite, you can’t help but writhe, desperate to evade your inevitable fate. It seems like so long ago that you were snatched from the dim street, dragged to this unknown place of shadows and ominous reliefs carved into the stone walls, thrown in a cell to wait. But it hasn’t even been a day; you’d wager the sun hasn’t even risen yet. After all, what better time to perform a ritual sacrifice than on All Hallow’s Eve?

You know you’re being sacrificed, of course. For what other reason would a cabal of silent, hooded men abduct you, strip you naked, and bathe you in rose-water & honey milk? For what other reason would they drag you sobbing and pleading to a stone altar in the center of a spacious sanctum and tie you to it?

Your chest heaves, your lungs unable to get a full breath between your terrified sobbing. You’ve long since given up pleading for your life. You’d done all you could think of- promised not to tell, offered them your money, and when they ripped off your clothes you did your best to play along, thinking your kidnappers were going to simply fuck you and move on. Nothing so far has worked. None of them has even whispered a word. As they washed you in their ceremonial bath, their hands pouring the water all over you and carding through your hair, they never pulled or groped, only touched to clean you. In the beginning, when you had more energy, you struggled and kicked and hit all you could, and one of them evidently had had enough. He’d struck you, a vicious backhand that left your ears ringing and a cruel mark on your cheek.

For whatever reason, the others seemed angry that he had hit you. They led him away, and one turned your face side to side as if to check the damage. Now that you lay on the frigid stone that grows warmer only because your flesh is bound to it, you understand why they cared at all, and it only makes you weep harder.

They didn’t want their lamb to be bruised before the slaughter. It would ruin the meat, wouldn’t it?

Tears stream down your temples as a handful of the cultists circle you. You rest your head against the small cushion beneath it and bite your lip. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction of your terror, but you can only do so much. Your heart pounds as you scan them for weapons. You expected a sacrificial dagger or ceremonial blade, one designed to rip your heart from your chest or cleave your head from your shoulders. But none of them carry any weapons that you can see. Poison, then? Drowning? Smothering? There are many ways they could kill you that don’t involve marring your skin. Your stomach fills with dread as the visions of yourself vomiting blood, writhing beneath a pillow over your face, thrashing against arms that hold your head underwater, parade before your mind. You can only desperately pray for your death to be swift and painless.

As the cultists form a ring around your prone form, you ball your hands into fists and brace yourself. Throat hoarse from screaming and crying, you nonetheless summon your voice once more, a last, desperate plea for salvation. “Please, don’t hurt me,” you beseech, “I- I don’t want to die. Please.”

None of them respond, or even indicate that they’ve heard you. You close your eyes tight, another despairing sob tearing from your chest. I’m going to die here.

You only open your teary eyes when a voice that is not your own echoes throughout the sanctum. “Hac nocte noctes,” a deep-voiced man intones, the words unknown to you but their meaning ominous all the same. You haven’t heard someone speak other than yourself since this ordeal began, and it startles you. Your eyes snap open and you watch as the cultist who spoke raises his arms in prayer, and you glance to the side, heart stopping as you look upon the tens of cultists who now fill the chamber. All of them bow before the altar, heads lowered in prayer, and echo the mantra started by the man near you. Hac nocte noctes.

Another continues, and you can’t differentiate the voices in your terrified state. “Ad te vocamus” and the acolytes follow as your eyes dart around frightfully. You can’t stifle a nervous whimper. You wish you understood what they’re saying.

Vocate nos Patrem Serpentium

Something about snakes, you think? Are they trying to summon some snake-demon out of myth to swallow you whole?

Sicut serpans caudam suam devorat

Bare, spread open like a flower on the altar, you wish you could cover yourself. You try as best you can, grunting as you struggle against the chains around your ankles, but you can’t hide your flushed crotch from view. You hate the way the attention makes you involuntarily heat up.

Tibi hanc oblationem damus

The air around you feels colder than ever. The meager wetness gathering in your core chills, further sapping your body’s warmth. You can feel eyes all over your bare flesh, but with each cultist’s face hidden, you can’t tell if they’re actually looking at you or not. Do they gaze upon your helpless form with unadulterated lust? Do they long to sink their teeth into you and fuck you until you haven’t the strength to say no any longer? Or do they simply size you up like the butcher does his sow? You wish you could say for sure.

In reditu nihil petimus

Half-heartedly, you wonder what god you’re being offered to. Satan? Baphomet? Leviathan? Cthulhu? Kali? Some nameless, formless entity known only to these gathered men? As you were brought here, you took notice of the carved reliefs on the walls. Even now, they surround you, decorating the stone womb you are trapped within. All of them depict snakes, writhing and coiling in on themselves, devouring their own tails and lashing out at unseen enemies. One relief in the far corner depicts a rat in the process of being swallowed whole by a cobra, only for the cobra to be bitten and mauled by a great bear. Another relief, this one continuing the tale, shows the injured serpent biting its own tail and taking new form as a halo behind a humanoid figure, body undefined, unknowable. Then, the halo-snake rides along the arm of the figure, coiling and constricting the throat of a fox. The final relief you can see from your position shows the fox standing at the figure’s side as the same bear from the first relief, accompanied by a jackal, lunges for them. Behind the silhouettes you can make out etchings of roiling flames.

Such evocative, ominous imagery. You can only assume these people mean to sacrifice you to the serpent in their carvings. Do they believe him to be dead, and your blood will revive him? Is he slumbering, and you’re merely bait to awaken him? So many questions, and with not one of the cultists willing to even acknowledge you, each one will die on your leaden tongue and with your terrified heart.

Serva benedictionem intuitus tui

Somehow, you can sense their mantra is nearing its end. Your breathing speeds up. You still can’t see any of them carrying weapons, or anything at all. Each cultist has his hands raised in the air as if offering something to the sky, empty. You pull against your fetters again, to no avail. Do your family and friends even know you’re gone? Are they looking for you? What will they say when you never come home? Your heart aches to think of it. You hope that these cultists at least let your body be found. You don’t want your loved ones to spend the rest of their lives listening for a heartbeat that no longer exists.

You steel yourself. You will face death with gritted teeth, pursed lips, and stony eyes. You will not grant these lunatics the pleasure of turning you into a damsel.

Vivat Uroboros

Now, that phrase you can understand somewhat. Long live Uroboros. Is that the name of their god? Uroboros? Judging by the imagery of snakes all around you, and the mentions of serpents in the chant, you anticipate being swallowed whole by a leviathan summoned from below, or maybe tossed into a pit of vipers.

What you don’t expect is for a suffocating silence to fall over the sanctum.

It feels wholly unnatural, unearthly. Like there’s a bubble that encases you, preventing you from hearing anything save your own frantic heartbeat. None of the cultists are moving. Your breaths become shallow as you try to understand what’s happening, why the shadows in the corners seem to undulate.

And then you look up.

The eyes, unblinking, burn away your bones, leaving only your soul behind. They’re made of hellfire, with only slivers of onyx to act as pupils. They bore right into your own, and you suddenly find yourself even more paralyzed than you already were.

The silence is broken by something new- a low, droning hum, like the gastric functions of some titanic monster. You watch as the void above you shifts, shimmers like oil, distorts into something new. Tendrils- writhing, black, wet, vile, foreboding -emerge from the infinite pitch and encircle you and the altar you lay on, blocking out the rest of the world with moving, living walls. You can barely breathe as those brimstone eyes continue to appraise you, pupils dilating and shrinking as the seconds pass. They come closer, closer, until you can feel them hovering in the air just above your face. You can’t blink. If you do, you’ll die, you’re sure of it.

A nightmare. That’s what this is. All you need to do is wait it out and you’ll wake up at home, hungover from the party, tangled in your sheets and pillows. All you need to do is wake up.

But then, why does everything feel too real? Why does the oily tentacle that prods under your chin, tilting you up to face the unfathomable being it belongs to, feel so utterly visceral?

The appendage retracts, leaving a faint, sticky residue on your skin. Your head falls back against the cushion, your eyes still trained on the nightmare above you. A voice comes to you, a voice that echoes from the depths of your psyche like the death rattle of a vanquished god. It feels invasive, and yet completely native. It feels unearthly, and yet natural.

Hello.

The voice, deep and cold, is overpowering. You finally capitulate, squeezing your eyes shut against the pounding echo of the single word. Bursts of color flash behind your eyelids as the word reverberates, fades in and out, as if your mind is trying to consume it. It’s horrifying, making your skin crawl and your bones itch, but bound as you are, there is nothing you can do. You feel as though you’re being lobotomized from the inside out, the forbidden knowledge somehow contained within those two benign syllables putting a trepanning tool to the inside of your skull and pounding pounding pounding. The pressure builds, your heart running in circles, thrashing against your screaming ribcage, and stars die in your eyes as the pain crescendos and you feel your skull shattering-

And then you open your eyes. Half-blind with tears, you still recognize the form above you, standing astride your hips on the altar.

A man.

The most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

The shock blasts away all the agony in your mind like a bomb at ground zero. Suddenly you see with perfect clarity, cold calmness draped over you like a paper-thin blanket of hoarfrost. All that is allowed to exist in your newly-cleared mind is the image of him. Tall, with blonde hair slicked back perfectly, not one strand out of place. Pale skin, like bone china, and thin lips, an angular face that simultaneously warns you away, lest you cut yourself on its edge, and beckons you to throw your body into the blade. His eyes, the color of magma, are the only indication that this is the same being that hovered over you moments ago. The same being, now in a new, impossibly-beautiful form. He looks down upon you, eyes harsh and stern but curious. Interested. The midnight leather that covers his body drapes around you, the ends of his long coat transforming into the same tendrils that encased you before. He tilts his head, appraising your naked form.

The same voice that scorched your sanity returns, though its razor edge is dulled. Be calm. It’s a command, one you physically cannot refuse. At the very least, this time it doesn’t crack open your skull and drain from it the fluid within. Like a computer given an executive command, your body instantly obeys. Your heart rate slows, your breathing evens out. You watch as his gaze leaves you, looking out over the prostrate assemblage before him.

It’s the same voice as in your head, but now audible to everyone else, that shatters the silence. “I have yet to be disappointed with your offerings,” he speaks, and he would sound like any other man if not for the way the bones of the earth tremble at his words, “it would be a shame to jeopardize our… relationship now.

“Which is why I can’t help but ask- who among you thought to touch what is mine?” Suddenly the detached cadence of his voice breaks away, revealing the cold, calculated anger beneath. For some reason, be it your exhausted heart or the command he gave you, you don’t feel uncomfortable the way you usually do when so close to such rage. You know it isn’t directed at you, but that hasn’t stopped your anxiety from rearing its ugly head in the past. Somehow, you are utterly calm in the face of the wrath of a god.

There is a pause, long and heavy, that clamps down on the room. For a painful moment, no one moves. Not him, not you, not the cultists around the altar or the assemblage before you. And then, a single figure rises from kneeling to stand tall and stiff among the crowd. Somehow, you know- this is the man who struck you. The bruise on your cheek stings with the echo of his attack.

The deity above you, nameless, hums in unknowable emotion as the perpetrator reveals himself. Like a bolt of black lightning, he thrusts his arm forward, gloved hand splayed out as if reaching for the man. In response, the man convulses, body twitching, doubling over and clutching at his stomach. He remains silent save for a few faint gurgling sounds, pained and sickening. Slowly, the summoned god draws his fingers into a fist.

“I haven’t felt the need to demonstrate what will happen to anyone who thinks they know better than I,” he says conversationally, as though a man isn’t dying in the middle of the room. Some of the cultists surrounding him turn to watch the spectacle, while others remain kneeling, albeit shaking. “But I suppose now is as good a time as ever, hm?” The tendrils that make up his coattails are writhing, charged with vitriolic power, hovering just over you. The sight of the man being tormented makes you sick, and you close your eyes to bite back the bile in your throat.

The voice returns, still gentle in comparison to his introduction, but stern. No, little one. Watch.

You already know you have no choice. Your eyelids open of their own volition, against the signals your brain sends. Now that you’re looking, you can’t tear your eyes away, like a car accident of eldritch proportions. It is nightmarish, and yet, you stand transfixed.

“Let this serve as a lesson to the rest of you,” the unholy being continues, watching with bored eyes as his victim falls to his knees, “this isn’t the most painful way I can kill. Lay hands on what belongs to me, and you will suffer. Am I understood?” In response, the cultists assembled nod their heads vigorously, or else give a terse cry of yes, Serpent-Father. Both reactions serve the same end, and their recipient seems satisfied. “Good,” he concludes with a pleasant tone.

His hand clenches into a fist, and the man’s head explodes into a mass of ravenous black tendrils.

Some of the devotees gasp, others flinch, and some remain still, though clearly at great personal cost. You can’t stop the horrified cry that escapes you, but the command of the voice evidently can. Hush. And your mouth closes.

As the body falls, twitching, to the stone floor, you watch the grotesque spectacle continue, more ebon tendrils eating their way out of the torso and abdomen. They detach from the body, slithering across the floor in unison towards the altar, and you realize they’re not tendrils at all, but snakes. They slide up the altar, over your trembling flesh, and up the legs of the man above you, who welcomes his servants with no issue. They obey their master unerringly, coiling in a braid around his outstretched arm, before becoming one with the shimmering leather itself. They are an extension of him, and so they merge seamlessly. One blink, and they’re gone, leaving behind only their master.

To their credit, the cultists surrounding the altar haven’t strayed from their positions, as much as you imagine they wish to. You look up at him, their patron, this Serpent-Father they’ve served you up to. You wonder if that is his name, or merely a moniker. He glances about the room, surveying the mass of devotees in attendance, and nods.

In response, one of the cultists at the altar begins another chant. The words remain unknown to you, but they set a strange rhythm, one that seems to put your soul into motion. Elsewhere, someone rings out a ceremonial bell, a sepulchral beat to accompany the tuneless song. You can’t help but wonder if this is where you die. If the beautiful, terrifying man above you will be the one to spill your blood, in his own name, and devour your beating heart.

But then, he isn’t above you anymore. He stands at the side of the altar you’re bound to, the other cultists having backed up against the wall with heads lowered in respect. He has free reign to run his gloved fingertips across the stone surface, and across your vulnerable skin. The slow, sensual touch makes you tense, expecting pain where there is none. At the frightened gasp you let out, he tilts his head in amusement.

His voice echoes in your mind again, a baritone murmur that curls against your innermost thoughts. He coils across your deepest self, probing, plucking the synapses of your brain like harpstrings. Each gentle tug coaxes your body into a pliant, heated state. Privately, he speaks to you. My pets gave you quite the scare, didn’t they? He hums, his corporeal hands gliding across the length of your leg, your arm, your side. He touches you with obvious intent, though what that intention is somewhat eludes you still. Are you not a sacrifice? Are you not meant to be killed in his name? Don’t mind all that, dearheart. Set dressing, really. You’re here to give me a different kind of offering.

Slowly, deliberately, he climbs atop the altar and sits astride your hips. He continues his exploration of your body until one gloved hand finds its way to cradle your cheek, an unexpectedly-comforting touch that you can’t help but lean into with a quiet whine. The other trails down, down, until his fingertips caress the sensitive flesh of your cunt. It makes you jolt, which consequently gives him better access to you, and his fingers greedily explore the velvety skin, nerves firing off with sparks of pleasure. As one finger dips inside, coating itself in the slick of your inner walls, you suddenly find yourself understanding the true nature of your predicament. “Oh,” you breathe, any and all confusion draining from you to the beat of the chanting.

You’re not here to give your life. You’re here to give your body. You’re here to fuck a god.

Both inwardly and outwardly, said god chuckles, amused by your wide eyes and heated cheeks. Whatever did you think was going to happen, hm? He asks, despite knowing full well what you expected. Your body responds eagerly to his ministrations, skin heating up, hips bucking against the restraints keeping you prone. You summon your higher brain functions to glare halfheartedly up at him for teasing you, to which he only coos condescendingly. “Did you think I’d eat you or something, little one?” He speaks aloud, voice soft but still cool and dark, “Oh no, nothing so gauche. The only screams that will fill the halls tonight will be of pleasure.”

The line is so cheesy; if an ordinary man used it on you, you’d roll your eyes. But in this place, surrounded by devoted onlookers and helpless before a god, it only makes you keen for more. You arch your back against the stone, meeting the languid thrusts of his fingers with the bucking of your hips. He looks down at you with such unbridled desire that your head spins. Speaking of screaming- he whispers into your head -My name is Wesker. You’re among my acolytes now, you may speak it freely. Don’t be shy.

A second finger, just as deft as the first, finds its way inside of you. It’s so good and yet not nearly enough. You can’t help but writhe beneath the god- Wesker -as he teases you. Your restraints hold fast, chafing against your wrists and ankles, denying you from taking more than what is offered. It’s agonizing, but the pain sears you from the inside out so deliciously. Any modesty lingering within you is burnt away in the wake of his fiery eyes and the horrible pleasure he brings. Your own eyes blown out, misty with tears, you can’t help but stare out at the procession of chanting cultists.

They treat your debauchment as though it’s a sermon. They offer prayers over your escalating moans, and you may be delirious enough to hallucinate but surely you aren’t simply making up the visible tents in some of their robes. The knowledge that they’re aroused simply by watching their god unravel you on his fingers, that they have the discipline to continue their worship regardless, sends a piercing bolt of arousal straight to your pulsing clit.

You can feel your climax sneaking up on you, choking you from behind. “Please,” you gasp, suddenly breathless as you look back to your tormentor, “pl- ah- please, make me cum, ‘m almost- almost there…” it’s as much a prayer as the ones being offered by your voyeurs. You wriggle your torso invitingly, begging him with your body to give you the building ecstasy.

Wesker smiles in satisfaction at the mess he’s made of you. The hand not burying three of its deliciously-long, slender fingers in your sopping cunt comes up, grabs your chin between thumb and forefinger. He drinks in your wrecked expression like the finest liquor. “You can have it, pet,” he coos, lowering his face to hover just over yours, and you’ve never wanted to kiss someone more in your fucking life, “go on. Scream my name while I ruin you.”

And you do. By every strange deity in this cult’s perverted pantheon, you do. Your downright pornographic cry of Wesker echoes through the halls of the sanctum, and the way you can see him shudder at the sound of his own name is what finally tips you over the edge. It’s sinful, the flush that comes to his pale cheeks, but it’s delicious. His being pulses with a surge of power at having his name invoked, especially during such passion as yours. The cultists chant a devoted hymn in unison, voices raised in victory, seemingly empowered by your climax. Your better judgment leaks out of you alongside the juices of your orgasm, pooling in a clear puddle of slick on the granite. Of any fluid from your body to give to Wesker, this is the one you would gleefully offer again.

As you come down from the ravenous high, your wonderfully-foggy mind registers something else prodding at your fluttering hole in replacement of his fingers. It feels hot and hard, and though you can’t crane your head enough to look down and see what it is, you can hedge a bet. The thought of having him fill you, claim you from the inside out, is enough to have you writhing desperately again. You keen pathetically as your chains keep you steadfastly held down, wishing more than ever that they were gone and you could simply wrap your arms and legs around this god and cling to him while he gives you all he has to give. You strain your wrists, your ankles, against the fetters, praying for them to just snap out of existence.

As though sensing your frustration, Wesker leans down, pressing his lips against the side of your head in a strange pantomime of a kiss that leaves your chest feeling unexpectedly fluttery and light. His voice swims in your head. Feeling trapped, are we? He asks rhetorically, the hand not guiding his cock to rest against your winking cunt wrapping around the chain on your right wrist. You nod frantically, babbling out quiet, incomprehensible pleas to be freed. Oh, alright. I know you’ll behave for me. After all, I’m sure you remember what I do to pets I find unsatisfactory.

The small ripple of dread in the pool of hot lust makes you whimper. It’s an unwelcome reminder that though you may be enjoying yourself, you’re not here by choice, and you even have the cold corpse of the man who slapped you to act as visual aid. But you’ll be good. You’ve been good thus far, been sweet and obedient under his ministrations, and you have every intention of continuing that. You’ll be good for him. For Wesker.

With a subtle squeeze, the god in mortal flesh releases your shackled wrist. The chain turns warm, scaly, as do the ones on the rest of your limbs. The newly-transformed snakes, just as vantablack as the ones he summoned to kill the errant cultist, slither away from your wrists and ankles, leaving you blessedly free. They return to their master, merging with his writhing coat, but you don’t care, only concerned with satiating the bottomless lust eating through your core. You take hold of the gloved hand cradling the apple of your cheek, entwining your fingers with his. “Please,” you whisper, summoning your headiest, lustiest voice, “I’m ready. Take me, Serpent-Father.”

The deep, lustful growl Wesker lets out at your usage of the honorific you picked up on from the cultists lets you know you made the right call. You brace your feet against the stone just as he finally enters you, hot cockhead breaching your cunt and stretching you around him. Connected to the divine in a way more literal than most could ever hope for, you moan, utterly lost in the heavy liquid pleasure that fills you. Like molten gold, it keeps you pressed down, prone and pliant for your god, unable to even fathom saying no. A new chant begins, some cultists diverging from the herd in their own hymns and calls of prayer, all to the constant call of the ceremonial bell. It’s overwhelming, and you can’t help but feel the devotion of the assemblage is directed to you as much as it is to Wesker. This feeling, being watched with hungry, obsessive eyes, would normally frighten you. But safe within the solid embrace of your god, spread out for him and him only, it only makes you shudder and clench around him.

Another deep, baritone groan rumbles into you from his chest as he pushes inward, filling you thoroughly and making a pleasant weight in your core. Chancing a look down, you see he’s only about halfway, and your stomach drops out as you realize just how much you have left to take. A firm hand grips your cheeks and forces your head back up to his, though not painfully. “Look at me while I fuck you, little mortal. There is nothing else. Only me.” He orders, and you have no choice but to obey him. The hand not clasped in his and pressed down to the stone slab comes up to press at his back, forcing him closer to you. He chuckles at your insistence, but obliges, leaning in closer until you can feel his hot breath against your face.

The first thrust, once he finally sheathes himself in your cunt, makes you white out in sensation. It isn’t pain, nor pleasure, merely the feeling of being filled so profoundly. But it’s strong enough to leave you gasping for air while your mouth hangs open in a silent scream. The second plants a blooming seed of euphoria deep within you, and the third sees that seed take root and sprout. Wesker lets go of your face, assured of your obedience, and presses the hand instead to your abdomen, where you realize his cock leaves a bulge in your belly. The full-body tremor that shakes you and him both as he presses down, constricting your cunt and his cock in unison, is soul-shattering. The part of your brain not melting out of your ears right now is determined to join this cult after the ritual concludes, if only to experience such glorious sex again. You already know no mortal, man, woman, or otherwise, will ever be able to satisfy you now that you’ve tasted the forbidden fruit. Maybe Eve’s garden was tainted by the serpent, but yours is left bursting with new life by his touch. Your Eden is here, with him and him alone.

The rest of the world fades away, leaving behind only the faint chiming of the bell and the singing of your devotees behind the lewd sounds of leather against flesh. You float in a void of ecstasy in which exists only you and Wesker, you and your god. You cling to his hand like the lifeline it is, being fucked half to death as you are, his inhuman thrusts bullying his cockhead cruelly against your cervix. Never before has anything (or anyone) reached so deep inside you, and you’ve heard it said that having your cervix touched is horrifyingly painful. But all you feel is a profound sense of fullness, near bursting, as he rams against your innermost walls. You half expect him to breach even that and make his home directly in your womb, but thankfully, he doesn’t. Your soul sings out, and Wesker hears it, his presence already entrenched in your mind forever. He pulls the strings of your psyche as though you’re the most beautiful marionette, and he the most perfect puppetmaster. Your body, and all that comes with it, is stripped away, and you feel as if he’s fucking your very soul instead, making his home in the space between your astral projection and the back of your eyes. It’s unreal, unlike anything you’ve felt before, like the protective skin around your clit has been stripped leaving only the bare nerves to be stimulated directly. Without the hindrance of flesh, he drags you upwards to a climax more intense than you could have imagined before.

He holds you there, at the edge of the beautiful abyss, taking his pleasure from you first. Your ecstasy builds, peaks-

And when he brings your entwined hands to his mouth and buries his fangs in the delicate meat of your inner wrist, it crests. Instead of being thrown to the wave, the wave throws itself over you, dwarfing you even as you stand on the mountain of built-up pleasure, washing you away. You hear a high-pitched scream, and barely, you register it as your own. You open your teary eyes, seeing double for a moment as you fall back into your body, and watch as Wesker hungrily sinks his teeth into your wrist. It hurts, yes, and your body jolts at the pain, but it’s quickly washed away by the aftershocks of your orgasm. His eyes never leave yours as he laps at your blood, consuming your life essence while you tremble beneath him in a broken mess of cum and slick. He continues thrusting into you, and you feel his cock twitch, and your own arousal stirs again somehow at the thought of him breeding you, filling you with his seed and making you bear his divine children. All at once, he releases from your wrist, letting out a monumental growl of pleasure as he cums deep within you.

Your body simultaneously feels like it’s completely numb, void of any tactile sensation at all, and also oversensitive to the point of pain. A foreign presence makes itself known in your bloodstream, flowing from your bitten wrist to the rest of you. Somehow, you understand that this is his way of claiming you- marking you. No rival gods, much less mortals, will dare lay their hands on you now.

The exhaustion has caught up to you finally. The room splits into four, your eyes barely able to stay open and your body going completely limp. It’s a little frightening, and you look up at Wesker with fearful eyes, asking for guidance. His hand returns to hold yours, squeezing as if to reassure you. You are mine, he murmurs from within you, there is no turning back now.

His. You are his. Mortal plaything of the Serpent-Father, of Wesker. It should horrify you.

But the thought is comforting enough to make you relax. He brushes gloved fingertips across your eyelids, closing them for you. His voice is the last thing you hear. Sleep, pet.

When you wake, the cold stone beneath you has been replaced by sleek, soft sheets, warmed by your body.

Slowly, delicately, you sit up, taking stock of your body’s condition. You feel fine, well-rested, even. But then the previous night’s events flash before your eyes.

Being tied to a stone altar. A god of unfathomable power taking shape over you. Giving you his name, taking the most beautiful form. Fucking you until you passed out. His teeth in your flesh.

A phantom ache makes itself known in your sex, protesting the rigorous activity of the night. But that’s the least of your concern as you look at your wrist. In place of what should be a healing bite mark, there is a rune.

At least, you think it’s a rune. It’s the color of midnight, pure black, in the shape of a striped 8-sided star, with a snake coiling around it. The mark of Wesker. As you think of his name, an echo of the unrelenting euphoria he showed you last night washes over you. Your face heats up, and you subconsciously rub your thighs together.

There are worse gods to belong to, I guess.

You already know you’re not at home. Your bed isn’t nearly this comfy, nor is it covered in sleek silk sheets. You assume you’re somewhere else in the cultists’ hideout, somewhere offerings such as yourself are left to recuperate from their endeavor. You’re also no longer naked- looking down at yourself, sliding off the smooth fabric, you watch the sheer gown you’re wearing billow out around your legs. Like the bed, it’s black, and you can only assume it’s made of chiffon or gossamer given the weightlessness of the fabric. It hugs your body absolutely perfectly, draping over your skin and leaving your back & shoulders bare. It feels like a dream.

A pair of gloved hands suddenly takes hold of your hips. Gasping, you attempt to turn, only for the grip to tighten, keeping you in place. “Hush,” Wesker speaks, allaying your surprise somewhat, “it’s only me, dearheart.”

His body, hot and firm, presses against your back, possessively looming over you. He kneads your hips idly as you recover from the minor scare. His presence is soothing, reassuring. With his claim on you thoroughly set, you know he will keep you safe, even if it is only to protect his investment. “Where are we?” You ask softly, unsure of how to carry yourself around the god who fucked you so well you converted to his religion.

He hums quietly, hands trailing down to your thighs. “We are in my domain. After the ritual concluded, I brought you back with me. And here you will stay.”

“…what?” You breathe. His domain? As in, his realm of reality? A place outside of the mortal plane as you know it? You’re not meant to be here. You should be home, with your friends and family. You belong back on earth, not as a caged pet to an ancient god. As alluring, as magnetic, as he is, you cannot stay with him.

Wesker laughs, a touch of cruelty entering his voice as he takes in your slight panic. “What, pet, did you think that was a one-and-done affair? That I’d be satisfied with breeding you only once? Think again.” One hand comes up to grasp your face, forcing you to turn towards a large mirror you hadn’t noticed. Your reflection greets you, as does his, looming behind you.

The first thing you notice is the band around your neck. Made of black silver, it circles your neck perfectly, staying in place without being uncomfortably tight or even chafing. A collar, shaped like a snake devouring its own tail. Your collar.

Wesker’s calm voice breaks you from your investigation. “I do hope you like your collar, little one. You won’t be parting with it any time soon.

“It’s as I said- there is no turning back now, my dear. There is nothing else for you. Only me.”

And the rest of existence fades away, leaving only you. Only him.

Only pleasure.

#Albert Wesker #Albert Wesker x Reader #Smut #Halloween smut #Ask to tag #Monsterfucking #My writing #Resident evil #Nsft #from the desk of Lovelace #writing #snakes Tw #Eldritch god #Also available on Ao3

97 notes · View notes