#i am holding on to it so tight emotionally

[bookwyrminspiration]

Gloria Anzaldúa saying "In the Borderlands / you are the battleground / where the enemies are kin to each other" taught me what people mean when they talk about poetry understanding and devastating them and I'm not kidding

[pinguuu-ni]

yeah u remember the fwb situation? 1 month later this really ain't feeling like an fwb at all

[cherubfae]

Hi! I was wondering if you write Hazbin Hotel x Reader. And the Hazbin Hotel characters would comfort a reader who is dealing with a panic attack

𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔠 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰 || {𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔟𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔩}

tags: fluff, gn pronouns used, implied masc!reader for Angel, implied afab reader for Vaggie, comfort, mentions of anxiety, established relationships

Alastor

Soft static crackles in his throat, neck tilting at an awkward angle. You sat on the front lobby sofa, turned away from him while covering your ears with your hands. He's never seen you like this before. "Are you alright, my dear?" When he receives no reply, his static increases. Why won't you look at him?

Kneeling in front of you, he's taken aback by your facial expression. A dreaded frown has replaced your beautiful smile, tears streaming down your cheeks, and you're absolutely trembling. What has happened? Has someone hurt you? Tell him who.

Alastor isn't quite sure what to do. He could usually say something nice to Charlie and she'd perk right up, but you aren't her. You're his darling, his sweet rose. And he hates seeing you unhappy. Lifting you into his arms, he dissolves into smoke and shadow to reappear in his tower. He places you down on the bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Clawed hands gently tug your own from your face, wiping away your tears.

"Tell me what I can do." Alastor whispers, a desperate twinge edged in his words. "I am here." He's gonna try his best to cheer you up. Playing some classical light jazz on his gramophone, humming and tapping his shoes. If you're lucky, he might even dance for you once you've calmed down.

Lucifer

Gentle hands cup your cheeks, thumbs soothing against your skin. He's breathing with you, encouraging you to follow his example. "Remember sweetheart, do the three three three rule." Lucifer whispers softly. "Tell me three objects, three sounds, and move three body parts." Your teary eyes wander his frame, touching his hands, his cheeks, and then finally his lips.

Kissing your fingertips softly, Lucifer never once ceased his gentle touches. A soft reminder that he's always close by.

Charlie

Oh, no! Oh no, no no! Okay! She knows what to do! Her Dad taught her how to do this when things felt too loud. Carefully, she cups your face making you meet her eyes. "What three objects do you see around your room, sweetie? Can you tell me?" Her voice is soft. Her warm body presses close to yours, her hand sliding down your arm to take your hand.

"Good, yes." She breathes. "Light, bed, and stuffed animals. Very good, honey." Charlie encourages gently, nuzzling your cheek with her nose. She pulls up your softest blanket around your shoulders and hugs you to her chest. When you've perked up a little, Vaggie is quick to suggest relaxation. "How about a nap, hmm?"

Vaggie

Carefully, she approached you from behind. Her hands, cold like ice, gently press to the back of your neck and begin to soothe and work any tight knots at the base of your neck and shoulders. She hums a soft tune, an old lullaby that was sung to her when she was little. It brought her comfort and she hoped its comfort would find you too.

"There you are, take it easy, love." Pressing a kiss to your temple, her hands comb through your hair. "I can run a bath, if you'd like? Might feel good." She wipes a stray tear from your eye, smiling as you squeeze her hands softly nodding. "Yeah? Alright, let's go, love."

Angel Dust

He knows that look well, he's seen it on his own face many times. Angel's first instinct is to bring you somewhere quieter and less populated. Crowds and loud noises overwhelm him when he's already feeling too emotionally overstimulated. Angel will sit with you as long as you need, holding your hand until you calm down. He'll gather whatever comforts he's able to grab, heck, he'd even ask Charlie for help if he felt really stuck and unsure of what to do.

"I didn't know what to get and so I asked Charlie, and she, well," he laughs softly. "Gave me one of everything. Chocolate, popcorn, chips, soda, juice, a face mask-- shit she really went full-out! These are luxury bath robes?!"

Husk

If there's something Husk understands it's that being a bartender you see people in all sorts of states in their lives. Happy, sad, depressed, divorced dad listening to rock music; he's seen it all.

So when you're on the verge of an anxiety attack, Husk drops everything and quickly approaches you, kneeling down to your height. His paw slips into your hand, allowing you to squeeze it, his other hand stroking your hair and pulling you to lean into his soft fluff.

"Easy there, tiger. Focus on your breathing, that's it." His deep voice rumbled against your skin. "That's it, kid. Keep on breathing for me, sweetheart." He nuzzles you gently. Husk may start purring too, as a cat's purr has been known to calm someone down.

Vox

To be honest, he's not quite sure what to do. Seeing you start to panic would probably make him panic a bit. He will approach you slowly, arms raised up almost defensively with his palms facing upwards. Is it okay for him to touch you? Yeah? "Okay, darlin', c'mere." Voxy's gotcha. Breathe in and out, in and out.

Vox will bring you to a quiet, dark room, curtains drawn shut for you to rest and recover. His display screen is the only low light provided. Tucking you in, Vox will sit curl up behind you and carefully stroke your hair. Want him to play one of those black screen meditation videos? Whale sounds? He certainly will for you. "Try to get some rest, baby. That's all that matters right now."

|| ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏꜱᴛ, ʀᴇᴜꜱᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴇᴅɪᴛ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴀʏ! ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ɢɪᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪꜱꜱɪᴏɴ. ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜱɪᴛᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ɪ ᴘᴏꜱᴛ. ᴀʟʟ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀꜱ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜰᴜʟ ᴏᴡɴᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ © ᴄʜᴇʀᴜʙꜰᴀᴇ 2024 ||

[sordidmusings]

jealousy headcanons and scenarios r my kryptonite! especially for emotionally constipated characters lol. for shanks, mihawk, and crocodile seeing their crush interacting with someone that turns out to be said crush's ex? there's chemistry between the exes and are those lingering looks he's seeing?! 🫢

OOOOOOOO GOOD CHOICES GOOD CHOICES 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 I must say I am weak for some jealousy too 💀 why does it have to be so hot in fiction huh??? Or make me feel wanted????? Rude 😤

Three jealous DILFs coming right up 🫡

Jealousy from Shanks, Mihawk, and Sir Crocodile

Your ex comes back into your life and stirs up some feelings - How are these men taking it?

Form this took: started as a bulleted headcanons but then became a scenario/ficlet for each ahsdjajskdajs

Word count: Shanks - 1.1 k, Mihawk - 1.2 k, Croc - 1.2 k

Shanks

The clinging and diverting type

This mf tries to be sneaky about it

Key word: tries

It’s no secret that Shanks is the jovial sort and that his welcome and cheer extend easily to newcomers. However, something curious happens when the next one joins your large table.

You always have at least a part of Shanks’ attention, so the way you shift uncomfortably and curl slightly in on yourself is not going to go unnoticed. You catch yourself and relax back into your usual posture, but Shanks knows you well enough to see there’s a posed touch to all your expressions. It tames them from the genuine displays of your thoughts and emotions that Shanks so loves into something more suited to a diplomat seeking favor. Now that had him wary.

It took no genius to notice that each time a great laugh broke out your eyes would sweep to that newcomer to take them in, or how your would flicker your gaze over to them every time you had the spotlight, as if seeking approval.

Gods Shanks hopes that isn’t the case

Driven to seek comfort in your presence, Shanks leans into his affectionate nature to keep close to you. You can’t think too long on someone else with him constantly leaning into your space to whisper dumb jokes and silly observations. He made those laughs and he gets to enjoy them up close and personal. You may look to others but you always look back to him when he ventures to lay his hand on your shoulder or hand or thigh and give a happy, hearty squeeze before retreating. He relishes in the fact that you had been uncertain of his touch when you first met yet now you trust and even welcome his hand on you.

Shanks is burst right out of his bubble of avoidance when you suddenly jolt and sit straight, separating yourself from his side.

The cause of his sudden and very dire lack of you is that very same newcomer. The newcomer, who is leaning in so close to you. The newcomer, who now has all of your attention. The newcomer, who is giving you a smile that Shanks very much does not like. It’s very charming and holds a twinge of remorse that Shanks knows from experience would strike straight and true right to your heart

“I’m glad to see you in happier times. You look good,” they have the audacity to say, the words even seeping with honesty. Shanks isn't sure he focused on anything in his life as hard as he does on your reaction in this moment.

Your smile is breathtaking, one he isn't sure he’s seen before, all affection and understanding and a dusting of yearning. It turns his heart to goo right before it clamps it tight and squeezes, because that smile isn't for him. He needs that smile to be for him. His mouth is moving before the thought even sinks in.

“We do like to keep things cheerful here!” Shanks chuckles to the newcomer. He turns to you, making sure to catch your eye. “Life’s too short to anchor yourself to your sorrows.” Now back to the newcomer. “And this one-” an arm slips around your shoulders, hugging you to his warm side, “-helps keep it that way.”

The smile you give him isn’t quite as overflowing with emotion as the one you gave the newcomer, but he loves it all the same.

Unfortunately, that’s not the end of it and the newcomer actually sits down on your other side and insists on catching up. Shanks is a damn charmer though, and he knows it, so he’s not one to give up on keeping your attention through the night.

He stays in the conversation easily, not deterred by the newcomer outsider bringing up shared memories with you, even though they squeeze at his heart and lungs tighter and tighter. He uses it to get to know more of you, a part of him truly enjoying the new insights. However, a much larger part is simply set on keeping the reminiscing light instead of romantically charged.

As the time and drinks flow, his and the outsider's tactics get more obvious yet you get more oblivious, simply cruising on the comfy fuzz everything had taken on and enjoying the company. Your unintentional refusal to pick a favorite has both of them getting desperate and daring.

Try as they might, the outsider is clearly outmatched

By the end of the night you’re wearing Shanks like a perfume, he’s stuck to your skin at the heart of your body, chest always tight to your back or side, chin often hooked over your shoulder or on top of your head. His slight scruff tickling at your ear when he moves and talks is exceedingly distracting. So is the softness of his hair on your neck when he turns his head to bed his cheek into your shoulder and pull you a little tighter to him, saying its just 'cause he's a little sleepy and trying to get comfy. He unearths himself from his resting place only to seek it again every few minutes.

His arm is always around you when he wasn’t using it to drink (of course) or toy with you - tugging at your clothes for attention, tickling your sides to interrupt you, sweetly scratching your scalp to derail your train of thought, teasingly rubbing a thumb into your hip or thigh to feel you squirm.

Shanks is a handsy motherfucker (ironic right-), so you don’t take any of this as a proclamation of his love. The most you think is that it has just hit that point in your journey together where his vast appetite for partners has finally swept its way to focus on you.

You end the night giggling the whole stumbling way back to the ship, tucked into Shanks’ side. You manage to stay there despite being at the mercy of both of your swaying, constantly blending who’s supporting and who’s slipping. Your ex is far from your mind when Shanks tucks you in sweetly (well… sweetly to a drunk; in all reality you kinda flopped in, but he did make sure you were shoeless and properly under the blankets, and he even shuffled back in to put water, crackers, and medicine where you could reach).

Shanks does however have a flash of your ex in his mind when he's happily gloating to himself that he had won.

His last blurry thoughts are of how to make sure you and everyone else unquestionably knows that you are off limits. The unspoken claim understood by the crew while he works at winning you over doesn't seem to be enough anymore. Especially if that pesky ex comes sniffing around again. Maybe they just need a lesson in what staring down Conqueror’s Haki truly feels like.

Mihawk

The intimidating and biting type

Mihawk would likely be the most covert of these three, at least as far as your notice goes

Your ex has no questions about Mihawk’s dislike for them. With his reputation as emotionless and solitary, it’s not guaranteed that your ex will put two and two together to realize that Mihawk's dislike stems from their previous relationship with you. Even if Mihawk hints at it, they'll tell themselves that they're imagining things. It’s much more likely that they’ll think it’s because Mihawk is that way with all but the Few Exceptions, and they have definitely not made the cut.

It definitely didn’t help that they were a marine

Mihawk is already unhappy to see a marine on his doorstep, no doubt sent to yip at him about some nonsense or other that the admirals were in a twist over. That unhappiness quadruples when he hears you tentatively call to this marine by name, and then it multiplies again when the marine responds by breathing out your own name with shock and hope

This pest needs to be out of his castle quickly

Yet he can't bring himself to simply throw them out when you come over so disgustingly happy to see them. There were a few times where he'd interrupted or snuffed out your joy while adjusting to you joining his home, and he found the feeling it gave him insufferable. That's what forces him to let the pest in and guide them with you to the smaller dining room.

He’d simply have to find what the pest needs fast and expedite whatever catching up you two apparently must do.

That's easier said than done; you and the pest are insistent on taking time between flustered pleasantries to share uncertain smiles and lingering looks of longing in charged silence.

It's giving him the worst mood he'd had in years.

At first he tries to discourage this lingering with his mere presence. He knows he's capable of pumping out enough sheer displeasure into the air to knock out a squadron, so he keeps it to his other tools: body language that makes him feel larger than the room and a glare sharp enough to split hair. Both make the pest cringe and shy away, but the chance to gain your favor makes them push through it. Even though he hates it, Mihawk can't blame them.

Mihawk can tell that his mood is setting you on edge too - almost anyone would with the perturbed looks you've been sending his way - but that isn't technically taking your joy, so he doesn't back off.

In fact, he decides it's time to push even more.

He begins interjecting in your conversation, mostly with little insults to take the wind out of the pest's sails.

You aren't yet tipped off that there's something hiding behind his mood; he was never fond of braggarts so it isn't so out of the ordinary for him to humble someone. Of course, you wouldn't exactly call what your ex is doing "bragging" so much as filling you in on their growing career. They are actually relatively humble about it, clearly just excited to fill you in and not phrasing things to seek your praise.

Then Mihawk starts complimenting you.

Mihawk is not one to dish out praise. You've had to fight tooth and nail to get the mere drops of it you'd tasted so far, so his sudden highlighting of your positive traits trips your sensors. It isn't exactly alarm bells ringing, more it makes you feel like there's something you're missing. You figure it's the sudden disruption and old instincts from his Marine Hunter days cropping up.

You would have never guessed that his aim with his nitpicking and praising is to make sure your ex knows for a fact that you are out of their league. They don't deserve you. But he could.

No matter the reason though, you certainly relish in Mihawk calling you things such as "necessary for [his] castle", "smarter than those inane marine trials", "finally proficient and needing no distractions to ruin that", and "better company than a bunch of sea monkeys". Sure, from most anyone else they'd feel slightly insulting, but from everything you've so far seen of Mihawk that's a glowing review.

The uncanny nature of this whole interaction, from Mihawk's tank in mood to the sudden praise, keeps your focus away from your ever shrinking ex.

Mihawk is simply delighted to see your attention going to its rightful place, on him. You should be looking at him with such interest and joy. You should be seeking his approval; not some simpering swine's.

He figures he's been patient enough (it's been almost a whole ten minutes after all) and it is time to end this farce.

Mihawk stands from his spot and goes to sift through the wine rack. He returns with an above average vintage (even by his tastes) and two glasses. He sets them at the corner of the table so he can deftly open the wine. The silence as you both watch him work elates him.

The first glass is placed in front of his seat and swiftly filled. You watch the action with admiration for his fluid and confident motions. The pest watches with growing envy.

The second glass is filled while still sat in the corner, keeping its owner ambiguous.

The bottle leaves one hand and that glass enters the other, coming with Mihawk as he moves to stand behind your chair.

His full height set strongly in sharp shoulders and straight spine cuts a devilish figure behind you. Your ex's first impression was that he is haunting you, but there's some little whisper in their mind that, no, Mihawk is protecting you.

That whisper gets stronger as Mihawk leans forward over you, getting much too close to be polite while he places the wine glass down directly in front of you. His eyes hold the pest's with an air of warning the whole time.

Mihawk settles back upright, placing a hand on both carved corners decorating the back of your chair. The act seems clearly possessive. But surely Mihawk couldn't have found some special fondness for you?

You are none the wiser to Mihawk's antics behind you, too enraptured by the closeness of his reaching arm then too distracted checking out the color and aroma of your gifted wine.

Having at least enough pieces of a functional brain to pick up on that cue, the pest begins rushing out some excuses and makes to leave.

Kind as you are, you tell them they don't have to rush off, but they're adamant. You're a bit sad to see this chance meeting end so quickly, but your mind quickly settles on thinking it's for the best. Your memories of them are distant enough to be cherry picked and seeing them scamper off so easily reminds you that there are reasons you parted.

Mihawk chases escorts them out and returns to you looking much less belligerent and much more at ease. You figure it best to not risk ruining the positive turn by questioning it, yet you can't help but ask one thing.

"I usually have to pour my own wine from the kitchen's rack. What's the occasion?"

Mihawk takes a sip and the comfort of one of his favored wines coming over his senses coerces him into loosening his tongue.

"You've been good." Another sip and he thoughtfully adds, "I could give you more rewards."

Sir Crocodile

The assertive and analytical type

Despite Croc being a plotter, I see him as being quite direct in this situation

Ok yeah maybe he insists it’s because you can do better and you’re definitely above crawling back to an ex (“you broke up for a reason didn’t you?”)

But maybe he also takes this as his opportune moment to get you into his clutches.

Who could blame him when he feels the threat of such an unworthy little nobody working so hard to catch your eye.

Croc always keeps an eye on you, no matter what else demands his attention. Sure, there's an obsessive edge to it, but he just needs to know what you're up to - has to know you're safe near for when he needs you. You are the best assistant he's ever seen after all, and he's been through an army's worth. He's sure his new organization would've crumbled if you weren't there to balance out the clown and his circus monkeys constantly shooting themselves in the foot (sometimes literally).

Many of those circus monkeys were even stupid enough to try and approach you themselves. Luckily for him, you seem about as enthused on the idea of you having a partner as he is.

Which brings us back to his irritation that you haven't swatted that bug away from you. No, instead you seem to be rather tolerant of their buzzing. Maybe even fond.

That just won't do.

The crowds at this schmooze-fest, thrown to entice more pirates and criminals alike, part easily for his beeline to you.

It only irritates him even more that you don't notice him until you're swallowed by his shadow. You even have the audacity to look surprised when you turn to him.

And you truly are surprised - as far as you know there's no reason for Croc's usual grimace to turn into something so stormy, especially directed at you. It quickly jumps to your ex however and focuses that torrent there.

"I don't know you," Croc states gruffly.

"I'm-"

"Your name doesn't matter," Croc interrupts. "What do you do? Why are you here?"

And thus begins the interrogation. You can only watch perplexed as Sir Croc tugs every bit of information he could want out of your ex, making sure to cut off anything he didn't care to hear. That frustrated look and tone become more bored by the second. Every tone tells your ex that they're barely worth the breath to speak, causing them to shrink even faster than Sir Croc's anger did.

You catch their eye and send them a sympathetic smile, and then Croc moves on to you.

"And you," he starts roughly. He lets you sit in suspense while he drags those hooded purple eyes from the crown of your head to the toes of your shoes and back. "Why are you here?"

You're taken absolutely aback by the question, mouth flapping from a mix of shock and offense. You have quite a list of things you keep your eye on at these parties; did he want you to go down the whole thing? After a deep breath, you try, "To gather informationof and from possible allies and help build relationships?"

"Wrong."

Well, at least he let you finish your sentence. Time to try again.

"To make sure the night runs smoothly," you say much more surely. It's an apt description of your overall job.

"Wrong again." Yep, that grimace is now definitely a smirk. One that only widens when you purse your lips and stare him down. You notice the genuine amusement shining in Croc's eyes and relax a touch, content to let him guide this to whatever destination he has planned.

"Then please, Sir, tell me," you relent. "Why am I here?"

He takes a deep puff of his cigar before pulling it from his lips and watching the smoke swirl out with his exhale. You watch it too - admire how handsome he looks reappearing through the haze. Enjoying how small you feel as he leans over you through its last remnants.

He rarely touches you with his golden hook, always using his hand (you've yet to realize it's because he prefers to feel you on his skin). Now, though, he raises it towards you. You're surprised yet again when the curve touches beneath your chin to tilt your face just a little higher; the metal isn't cold like you thought it would be. It must be warmed from resting on his thigh. You shake away the thought of warming it further.

He takes his time assessing you, giving you your own time to look over his breathtakingly chiseled face, admire his striking scar, forget everything else but his eyes on you.

Without intention, you gravitate towards him, leaning forward enough into him and that golden hook drawing you that you have to catch yourself with a stumbling step. The fond chuckle he gives in response resonates deep and rich and feels like a reward flowing over you.

"You, my dear," Sir Crocodile says with unfamiliar mirth, "are here to keep me happy."

"And how would you like me to do that, Sir?" you whisper back.

At first, that just earns you a smile. Then he's drawing his hook along your jaw, tickling the tip around your ear, drawing it gently across your cheek. It ends its journey on your lips, ever so gently pulling your bottom lip down before letting it flick back up when he draws his arm away. You watch the glimmering gold retreat. He's greedy for more of the longing he sees in your eyes. He leans slightly lower and gives you back that hook, this time in the form of an offered arm.

"With your company, of course," He finally answers. The warmth you hear in the drawl of his voice is beautiful.

You slip your hand into the crook of his arm, happy you can feel his body heat through the soft fabric of his shirt.

Halfway back to his previous spot, you realize that you'd become so distracted that you hadn't even said goodbye to your ex. You had wanted to exchange numbers, maybe truly get back in touch and feel out if things would be better this time. Noting how deep your draw to Croc is, you already feel that that would be a dead end. Well, maybe some time rekindling things would help your daydreaming and wishing for Sir Croc finally start ebbing away.

"Did you see where they went?"

Croc has to hold in his smile at your question. "They scurried off on you. It's for the best though; they were exceedingly unimpressive."

You couldn't help but snort at his assessment.

After guiding you to your chair and pushing it in, Croc settles down himself. When he reaches for his awaiting drink, he notices Daz Bonez come back into the room, wiping his hands off on his pants. Their eyes meet and Daz Bones gives a firm nod before heading back to his other duties for the night.

Sir Croc smirks and takes a heavy sip of scotch.

~ ~ ~ ••• ✦✦✦ ••• ~ ~ ~

There you are sweet anon, I hope you enjoyed and that it properly scratched the itch❣️ Thank you for the ask 🤍 Sending much love!!!

Part of a little celebration

[p0orbaby]

Little fic where is alexia dating an English player who finds it difficult how affectionate Spanish people are with each other. Alexia having to reassure her that it’s a Spanish thing and she’ll try to be less touchy etc.

-

You’re not sure when exactly it starts to get on your nerves, but by the time you notice, you’re on a sun-bleached terrace in Barcelona, watching Alexia kiss three people hello in under five minutes. It's an odd thing to obsess over, and yet here you are, eyes narrowed as you sip on an overpriced cortado that tastes like dust and regret. You’re not jealous. Of course not. That would be absurd. You’re simply... perplexed by the excessive touching, the relentless stream of hugs, kisses, and arm squeezes that seem to form the bedrock of Spanish existence. Everyone’s always touching someone.

In England, a handshake is intimate enough, and in London, where you’re from, if anyone dared speak before your tea even cooled, you’d probably alert the authorities. But here? It's practically a greeting card in motion. You’ve seen grown men embrace in the street like they’ve just survived a shipwreck. It's baffling.

Alexia sits down across from you, smiling in that way that makes you feel foolish for being annoyed by anything. She’s impossibly beautiful, and the knowledge of that fact gnaws at you constantly. She’s all golden skin and nonchalance, legs casually crossed, one hand fiddling with her sunglasses as if she’s in some sort of commercial for ‘cool.’

“Are you okay?” she asks, her accent making every word sound softer than it should be, like it's wrapped in velvet. She’s genuinely concerned, or she’s pretending really well. You can’t tell which.

“Yeah,” you say. “Fine”

And then, because you’re not actually fine: “Do you have to kiss everyone?”

She looks at you like you’ve just asked if the sky is blue. “It’s how we greet people here”

“I know that,” you say, setting your cup down with more force than necessary. “But does it have to be every time? You’ve kissed three strangers today already, and it’s not even noon”

Alexia blinks at you, then laughs. “It’s just being polite”

Polite? You're thinking. In England, you say "hi" and move on with your day. No one has to swap saliva to prove they like you. But this? This is something else.

“Well, it’s... it’s excessive.” You try to explain, gesturing vaguely in the air like you can catch the sheer madness of it all. “People just... touch all the time. And I’m not used to it”

Alexia’s mouth twitches, trying to suppress a smile. “We’re just more affectionate”

“Affectionate?” you say. “It’s like a plague of hand-holding and cheek-kissing”

She finally lets out a laugh, full-bodied, the kind that makes her eyes crinkle. “You sound like an old lady”

“Maybe I am,” you mutter, trying to keep a straight face. “Maybe England has made me emotionally unavailable”

Alexia reaches out to touch your arm, then stops, hesitating, her hand hovering mid-air like she’s not sure if it’ll set you off again. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, no,” you sigh, waving her hand toward you, now feeling like the crazy one. “It’s fine. Just... give me a heads-up before the next 12-person cuddle fest”

She grins, leaning back. “I can try”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “You’re so annoying”

“And you love it

You do. And you hate that you do, which is probably the worst part of all this. She knows you’re wound too tight for your own good, and she’s infinitely more relaxed about everything, like the world bends to her will instead of the other way around.

You finish your cortado, now cold. “You realise you kissed the barista on the way in, right?”

Alexia nods, grinning wickedly. “She made my coffee right”

You groan, but you’re laughing, which only encourages her. “I’m never letting you set foot in the UK again”

“That’s fine,” she says, leaning in, all confidence. “Spain suits you better anyway. You just don’t know it yet”

[fettuccin-e]

Just This Once

Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it before you tap it irl), fingering (r!recieving), squirting, light dacryphilia, Din being feral but also emotionally stunted (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: Guess who fell behind on Kinktober again, womp womp. I will not give up though!! I am determined to finish, so please enjoy this Din fic that I may or may not have gotten too invested in while writing it and stay tuned for some more filth coming (and cumming hahaha) soon!! (for Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s something about the coldness of space, the loneliness of it, that makes you so desperate.

When the Crest is quiet, the baby asleep, all you can feel is the vastness of the universe around you, your body cold and needy for touch. And Maker, the Mandalorian notices immediately, the way you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, curling your fingers into your thighs as the stars fly past the ship. You don’t mean to be obvious, but Din always notices.

He knows how to treat you when you get like this, all needy and desperate for his touch, even when you don’t want to admit it. Din is willing to admit that you are far more than just a friend to him, but you both narrowly avoid the strength of the feelings between you both, the bond that drags you together. But still, Din knows exactly what you need, and he has absolutely no problem giving it to you.

He has you splayed across his lap, your back pressed against his chestplate, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. He’d lost his gloves the moment you’d peeled off your pants, his hands the only skin he’ll allow himself to touch you with. It’s a wonderful loophole for you, but an exercise in torture for him. He wants to feel your back pressed against his bare chest, trace his lips down your neck. Wants to feel your heartbeat against his, quick and warm and alive. 

This is the Way, he reminds himself, despite knowing, deep down, that he’s already broken something just by touching you without his gloves. But stars, how can he resist when your pretty, desperate little cunt pulses beneath his fingertips, begging for more, more, more.

He ghosts his fingers up the slick seam of your pussy, and has to hold back his own groan at the way you whine, pressing back against him as your hips twitch uncontrollably.

“Stars, you’re wet,” he grunts, pressing a thick finger into your entrance, already gaping with your need for something, anything to clutch onto. “Needed me this bad, cyar’ika?”

“‘M so- so empty, Din, fuck, it’s like,” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he starts fucking you with that one thick finger, feeling it drag across your walls. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you touching me, Maker, I need it all the time, Din.” 

And it’s true. When you’d first started traveling with Din and the baby, you’d barely even noticed the loneliness. You’d been lonely your whole life, eager to escape your desolate little planet and see the stars.

But then Din had done this for the first time, when tensions had run too high, when things had gone just a little too far.

“Just this once,” he’d muttered, “Can I touch you?” he’d asked, and you’d said yes without a thought.

He’d peeled off his glove, touching your face gently, so gently with those calloused fingers. He’d laid you out on his small mattress, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead as he let his hand roam the expanse of your body, squeezing your skin over your clothes before brushing them over your clit through your pants. When you’d jerked up and moaned, he could only let out a shaky exhale through his visor as he rubbed tight circles into it, enraptured by the way you whimpered and squirmed beneath him.

“Just once,” he kept muttering, even as he worked one, two orgasms out of your body, “just once.”

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

And now you can barely sleep without wanting, needing Din to touch you. He hasn’t fucked you; there’s an unspoken rule that he’s broken enough of the Creed for you, telling you his name, touching you like he does. You don’t question it, not when you’re the one getting fucked on his fingers until you’re in tears, ravenous for his hands on your body.

It’s like it gets worse as time goes on, your need for him. Even now, pressed against his chest as his thick thighs spread you wide for his hands, it’s like the first time. You writhe against him as he works another finger into your hot cunt, your slick covering his hand. You hump forward into them without meaning to, and you turn your head to tuck it into his cowl as he works you over.

Din fucks his fingers furiously into you, using his other arm to brace across your hips, keeping you pinned to him. He’s practically growling as he pumps his hand between your legs, crooking his fingers up to press against the spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep for a moment, just grinding the tips of them into that spot relentlessly and relishing in the way you cry his name so prettily.

“Din, please- oh fuck! Stars, it’s too much, it’s too much oh my- ah-” you wine, feeling tears start to build in your eyes as you edge dangerously close to that peak you need so bad.

“C’mon, mesh’la, let go for me, squeeze my fingers with this little cunt,” he growls, and fuck, you can’t even breathe as you let him work you over, making you cum so hard that you can’t do anything but gasp for air.

And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fuck, I-” you hear him say, and you turn your head to look at him, even as aftershocks wrack your body, even as his fingers stay buried inside.

“What, Din?” you whisper, and Din nearly curses at the sight of you. Your lashes are wet with tears, stars, why do you have to look at him like that? It wears at his carefully honed control, and fuck, he can practically feel it snap at the sight of you, as the feeling of you.

“Can I fuck you?” he rasps, and you hear him suck in a breath, “please let me fuck you.” You can't hold back the keening whine that leaves your mouth, and Din shivers behind you at the sound of it.

“Please,” you breathe, and Din pulls his fingers out of you without missing a beat, reaching behind you, between your bodies to pull his cock out of his pants haphazardly. You feel the hardness of it press against your lower back, and resist the urge to look. You don’t want to cross any more lines than he’s given you.

“Just this once,” he mutters, pulling your hips back over him, notching the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “Just need to feel you, once, fuck, just once,” and he pulls you down, down, letting his cock stretch you so wide, so perfect.

Months in space, just weeks of having Din touch you, stars, it’s nothing compared to this. You eyes roll to the back of your head as he settles deep inside, so fucking deep that it makes your toes curl.

“Dank farrik, that’s fucking tight-” he grunts, the hot, wet heat of your cunt pulsing around him almost making him fill you up right then and there. He bites his tongue, praying to the Maker that the pain stops him from ending this far too fucking soon.

He uses his hard, strong grip on your hips to roll you into him, grinding you down hard onto his cock. You can only take it as he punches his hips up in aborted, desperate little thrusts that grind into your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Din, it’s so big, I can’t-” you whine, but Din only growls beneath his visor, fucking up into you harder, and your head falls back onto his shoulder plate at the feeling of it. It’s so perfect, it’s everything you’ve needed, stars, how will you survive without him filling you up like this?

“Give me another one, cyare,” he mutters, and he uses one of his hands to bring his fingers to your clit, just like he did that first night. Except this time, his cock is inside you, spreading you so wide and pressing up into your g-spot with every fucking thrust in. You gasp for air, little whines punching out of your throat every time Din shoves in all the way. 

He’s a violent man, always has been, and fucking you is no exception. He fucks you like he hunts: fast, rough, fucking monstrous. Tears finally start to pour down your cheeks, and you hiccup through your moans.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “sobbing on my cock like the needy whore you are.” He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, he’s never talked like this, let alone to you. But stars, the way you moan for him has his head spinning, has words pouring out of his mouth like they’ve been trapped there all this time. “Mesh’la, squeezing me so perfect, never want to leave this perfect cunt.”

“Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna- stars, I’m gonna-” you gasp, your hands scrabbling at the one hand he has rubbing at your swollen clit.

“C’mon, c’mon, let me feel it, need to fucking feel it-” he mutters, and oh-

You’re pretty sure you scream as you cum, but it’s hard to hear it over the ringing in your ears as you thrash in Din’s lap. You can feel him still inside you, his horrible fingers still rubbing dexterous circles into your clit as he floods your cunt with his cum. Your orgasm feels fucking endless, your thighs trying to close but still held wide by Din’s between them. 

When you finally start to hear again, the blurriness fading from your vision, you can hear Din behind you, muttering, “fuck, so beautiful, didn’t- didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do- do what?” you slur, still groggy, but as you look in front of yourself, you can see the mess you’ve made. You’d fucking squirted, your wetness drenching his thighs and the floor of the hull. The sight makes your head spin, and you hide your face in his cowl as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him. The coolness of his armor is soothing to your overly-heated body.

“So good, you did so good for me, cyar’ika,” he mumbles beneath the visor. “So pretty, can’t believe- you looked so beautiful.”

You let yourself relax into his hold, and he doesn’t let you go. “Didn’t know I could do that either,” you mumble, sleep already weighing down your eyelids, exhaustion flooding your body. “We’ll have to try again later,” you mumble. “Don’t think once is enough.”

“It will never be enough,” you hear him whisper, “not with you.”

[allyricas]

one of my favorite scenarios is when person a gets wasted and starts spilling secrets about how much they loooove and want person b

and its gotta be like... steve would usually keep his feelings pretty bottled up tight with a general air of aloof bitchiness. make em think you don't care right? but he is so head over heels for eddie that when he lets loose and gets too inebriated, he starts babbling all sorts of delicious things

eddie you're so pretty bambi it's not fair ugh i've got such a big, dumb crush on you pretty boy and ugh i just can't get you out of my mind i fucking dream about you like how am i having wet dreams as a full blown adult and i love your hands and your rings and your lips even love the nerdy shit you say wanna smell you, you always smell so good how do you do that? can i touch your hair?

and he'd be handsy and snuggly with no filter, so every mushy, horny thought that pops into his head, he says with no shame.

and eddie, who is usually pretty un-fucking-flappable, is bright red. he's sputtering and blushing, but enjoying every single minute of steve's drunken affection even if all of his friends are barely holding it together. robin would be literally laughing herself silly but trying to hide it.

steve would be so mortified the next morning as he remembers every single moment.

steve: robbie, i sniffed him. repeatedly. robin: you called him bambi. steve: it's his big, sexy doe eyes- oh my god i told him i have wet dreams about him. take me out and kill me old yeller style, i cannot go on. eddie, literally giddy with joy: you guys know i'm in here right? steve: oh my god, i will never emotionally recover from this. eddie: babe, i have a big, dumb crush on you too. the biggest actually. also, you were very, very cute last night. steve: i am always cute thank you very much. robin: oh god you two are going to be unbearable.

[webbluvrsugar]

Lie To Girls — Spencer Reid x exbau!reader

slightly based on the song sharpest tool by Sabrina Carpenter but it’s more like the song would fit them right (love me some angst, had to do it.)

cw: angst with fluff at the end, no use of y/n, passes a little bit after JJ confessed her feelings for Spencer. - this isn’t a jj slander, only serves for context.

Spencer sweared to you he was over JJ. The blonde had just confessed her feelings for him in a case, and really, you guys used to be fine, at least until he found out his crush of years actually liked him all this time that passed, that he could’ve had a chance all this time if there was no miss communication between them. God, he didn’t even want to tell you, not that he was afraid with the way you’d react but that he knew it was… wrong, in some way, it was. You took it pretty well, but then he confessed he’d been thinking about it more than usual and that just wouldn’t cut it. Which led to the both of you arguing in the living room of his apartment.

“I — I don’t know what you want!” You shout, a mess of tears, he’s been trying to explain that he didn’t really mean anything he said previously. “Sure, you had a chance, but am I not enough?”

It breaks Spencer’s heart to see you like this — so emotionally distressed because of something he said, something stupid and reckless, and it doesn’t seem like it will get better soon.

“No, I’ve.. I’ve never said that, you’re more than enough to me, I just thought—“ he tries to speak, but he’s cut off by you.

“Thought what?” You take a step closer, you’re so sad that he wishes you hadn’t done that. “She’s married! Jesus — she has kids!” You sniff, his head clenches.

“I know.” He admits, ashamed, head hung low.

“I don’t know what happened between you two but there’s no way of fixing it!” Your words are bitter, and they hurt, but he understands why you’re acting like this, he won’t blame you.

He doesn’t respond to that, you can see the look in his eyes, as if he’s heartbroken, and really you don’t know if it’s because of you or Jennifer, it’s hard to tell, and maybe that is exactly why you hurt him even more with your next words.

“If you want me to leave, I will.”

You take another step closer, Spencer gulps, and when he stays silent, you start crying incessantly, hands up to your face as if you’re ashamed of him seeing you like that — you shouldn’t be, he realises how much he really messed up. He’s hurt, confused, but he didn’t realise how this would affect you, and if anything, you’re both to blame.

Spencer’s a nice guy in your eyes, the perfect boyfriend even through his flaws, you don’t know if it’s because of his personality or really because you’re just madly in love with him, but even now, you can’t see malice in the way he acts. He would never need to lie to you the way he did when he said ‘I don’t love her anymore.’, he would always be a saint to you.

He approaches you finally, pulls you into a tight hug at his chest, places a kiss on top of your head and grips you like you’ll fly away if he doesn’t hold you.

“I’m sorry, okay, I just made a mistake,” he whispers, resting his chin over your hair. “I don’t need anyone else.” He breathes.

“Was just a stupid mistake.”

[paisleypens]

dinner’s almost ready | spencer reid x reader

summary: spencer asks for some homely comfort after a case

Spencer Reid trudged into the office, the heaviness of the latest case pressing down on him like a weighted blanket. The gruesome details and tragic outcome had left him emotionally drained, his usually sharp mind dulled by exhaustion and sadness. He collapsed into his chair, staring blankly at the stacks of case files on his desk.

He picked up his phone and dialed your number, his fingers trembling slightly. You answered on the second ring, your voice instantly soothing to his frayed nerves.

"Hey, Spencer," you said, a smile evident in your tone. "How's your day going?"

He let out a long sigh, his shoulders slumping. "Not great," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "This case... it was really tough."

"I'm so sorry, love," you said softly. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

Spencer closed his eyes, imagining your warm, comforting presence. "Could you cook for me tonight? I really need something comforting right now."

"Of course," you replied without hesitation. "Come over as soon as you can. I'll have dinner ready."

He felt a small spark of relief at your words. "Thank you, Y/N. I'll be there soon.

An hour later, Spencer stood outside your apartment door, the familiar scent of your cooking wafting through the air. He took a deep breath and knocked softly. You opened the door almost immediately, pulling him into a tight hug.

"Hey, Spence," you greeted, stepping forward to wrap your arms around him. He melted into your embrace, feeling some of the tension begin to dissipate.

"Hi," he whispered into your hair, holding you tightly. After a moment, you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with concern.

"You okay?" you asked gently, your hand coming up to rest on his cheek.

He nodded, though his eyes still held a shadow of the case. "I am now," he replied softly.

"Come in," you said, guiding him inside. "Dinner's almost ready."

He followed you to the kitchen, where the table was set with two plates and a steaming pot of your famous homemade soup. Spencer's stomach rumbled at the sight, the first sign of hunger he'd felt all day.

You ladled the soup into bowls and placed one in front of him, sitting down across the table. He picked up his spoon and took a tentative sip, the warm, savory broth instantly soothing his frazzled nerves.

"This is amazing," he said, giving you a small, grateful smile.

You reached across the table and took his hand, your thumb rubbing gentle circles on his skin. "I'm glad you like it. It's good you asked."

Spencer nodded, feeling a lump form in his throat. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

You squeezed his hand reassuringly. "You don't have to go through this alone, Spencer. I'm always here for you."

As you both ate in comfortable silence, Spencer felt the heavy weight of the case slowly lifting from his shoulders. The warmth of your presence and the simple act of sharing a meal together made him feel more grounded, more at peace. For the first time in days, he felt a glimmer of hope. No matter how tough the cases got, he knew he could always come home to you. And that made all the difference.

[candy69gurl]

POV: You are Sukuna's Vessel 2

Warnings- private touching

wc- 1.2k

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7

You sink onto your bed, your mind racing with thoughts of the future. With Sukuna inside you, you can't help but wonder what will happen next.

"If they find out the truth, they'll never look at me the same way," you think, your heart aching at the thought of losing your friends.

"Maybe I should tell them the truth," you consider, but the idea is quickly shot down.

"No, they'll think I'm crazy or worse, they'll try to exorcise me," you decide, your heart sinking into your stomach.

"I need to figure this out myself," you murmur, your fingers gripping the sheets, trying to come up with a plan.

But as always, Sukuna has something to say on the matter, "Don't bother, little brat. No one can save you from me," he hisses, his voice like poison in your mind.

"Why are you like this?" you question, your voice shaking with anger and fear

"It is what it is," Sukuna answers simply, his voice devoid of any emotion.

"You're a monster," you accuse, your heart pounding in your chest

Sukuna just laughs, a sound that sends a pain through your mind.

With a deep breath, you get up from the bed, your mind still spinning from your encounter with Sukuna.

You walk to the bathroom, feeling a bit of relief as you undress, shedding your clothes and stepping into the shower. The warm water cascades over your body, washing away the tension you've been holding.

"Ah, this feels good," you say, closing your eyes and leaning against the tiled wall.

"Mhm..", a deep voice echoes in your mind, "What a nice body you have."

Your eyes snap open, a gasp escaping your lips as you realize your mistake. Your naked body is now exposed to Sukuna, the realization making your skin crawl.

"Damn it," you curse, your hands hastily covering your most private areas, feeling heat rise to your cheeks

"So innocent," Sukuna snickers, his voice sending shivers down your spine

"Stop it," you demand, your voice trembling with embarrassment and anger.

"You can't make me uncomfortable like this," you continue, trying to assert your control over the situation.

"Oh, I think I can," Sukuna counters, his voice low and taunting.

"I want you out of my head," you hiss, your fists clenching tight with the effort to keep him at bay. "How am I gonna live like this?" you whisper, your voice breaking

"Go ahead, show let me see more of your body", Sukuna taunts,

Your heart races, your breathing growing faster as Sukuna's voice continues to torment you.

"No," you insist, your voice shaking with determination. You refuse to give in to his twisted games.

You quickly turn off the shower, the water disappearing in a rush of steam.

With shaky hands, you reach for a towel, wrapping it around your body. Your heart is pounding in your ears as you try to get dressed in the darkness, with the lights off to keep Sukuna from seeing your naked self anymore.

"Shy, are we?", Sukuna questions, his voice filled with amusement.

"Shut up," you snap, your voice shaky with anger and fear "You're the one who started this," you remind him, your hands balling into fists at your sides.

Sukuna just laughs, the sound echoing in your mind as you try to ignore it and gather your thoughts.

Exhausted and emotionally drained, you climb into bed, pulling the covers over your head in an attempt to block out the world.

You close your eyes, hoping for some semblance of peace, but it's not long before Sukuna's voice creeps back into your mind.

"Sleep well, little brat," he says, his voice a dark rumble in the darkness

"Fuck off," you respond, your voice tinged with anger and exhaustion.

"Good night," Sukuna replies, his voice hollow and cold.

With a frustrated sigh, you try to ignore him and drift off to sleep, hoping for a moment of solace in the darkness.

As you fall asleep, you can't help but wonder how much longer you can keep this secret from your friends. You cling to the hope that you'll find a way to control Sukuna and protect those you care about.

In the middle of the night, without warning, your body twitches beneath the covers.

Sukuna takes control, his consciousness merging with yours as you remain blissfully unaware, still asleep.

"Finally, some peace," Sukuna whispers, his voice dark and devious.

He moves your body, stepping out of your bed and turning on the lights.

"Now let's start with my experiments."

Without hesitation, Sukuna's control over your body quickly strips you bare, your clothes falling to the floor.

He guides you towards the mirror, standing you in front of your naked reflection.

"Well, well, well," Sukuna coos, his voice dripping with amusement. "Look what we have here."

He examines every inch of your body, his gaze lingering on your most private areas, making your skin crawl even though you're still asleep.

"Nice," Sukuna approves, his voice low and taunting.

He continues his inspection, running his hands over your body, tracing your curves and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

"Oh I really look so pretty," he muses, his voice turning thoughtful.

Sukuna, through your body, reaches for your breasts, gently cupping them in his hands.

A jolt of pleasure courses through him, your body arching slightly in response. The sensation is unfamiliar to him.

"Hmm, yes," he hums, his voice low and satisfied. "Feels so good."

With a hint of anticipation, Sukuna pinches your nipples, his touch sending a shock of pleasure through him.

He gasps, his eyes widening in surprise at the intensity of the feeling.

"So sensitive," he mutters, his voice filled with wonder and desire. "This is so much better than I expected."

Sukuna, through your body, moves towards the bed, lying down on it and spreading your legs wide.

His hand slides down your body, his fingers dipping into your wetness, your body trembling slightly at his touch.

"Ah, you get wet this easily?" he asks, his voice husky with excitement "Your body is so pleasurable."

He begins to stroke you, his movements slow and deliberate, his curiosity growing with every stroke.

A wave of pleasure washes over him, the sensation overwhelming him as he explores your body.

"Oh, this is amazing," he breathes, his voice a mixture of surprise and excitement.

"I want more," he says, his voice filled with determination "I need to explore every inch of this body."

He continues his exploration, his fingers sliding deeper, his touch growing bolder with each passing moment.

"Yes, yes, more," he moans, his voice filled with desire. "I could spend hours on this."

Sukuna's touch becomes more insistent, his fingers moving faster, your body responding to his ministrations even in your sleep.

"Shit this pussy's getting wetter," he muses, his fingers dipping deeper, his touch growing more demanding.

A wave of pleasure crashes over him, his orgasm pulsing through your body, your inner muscles tightening around his fingers.

"Fuck!" he groans, his voice filled with satisfaction "That point.. S-shit.. So tight, so good", he moans thrusting his fingers attacking your weak point.

Soon an orgasm surges through the body, his breathing ragged as he pulls his fingers from your body, leaving you slick and aching.

"That was... amazing," he says, his voice tinged with awe, "I can't wait to do this again," he promises, his voice filled with anticipation

With a final caress, he lies down, your body still trembling from the experience.

"Rest now, vessel."

As Sukuna relinquishes control, you slip back into a fitful sleep, your body still humming with the aftermath of his pleasure.

[fraugwinska]

If it’s okay, can you do Alastor x Reader where Alastor catches you relapsing after a fight with him? If it’s too much, you don’t have to do it. Just wanted some comfort for what I’m going through. You’re also a very good writer! Keep up the great work! xx

Hey anon - I hope you are doing well. I couldn't let this one sit too long in my inbox... Whatever you are going through: I hope this will help you with a bit of comfort. (I do hope I didn't misinterpret your ask...) I send you the biggest hug, my dearest! <3 TW:Self Harm,Depression,Angst - Minors DNI - 1.3k words

You were doing so well. So, so well.

Arguments with Alastor occurred from time to time, but you had done so well in not letting them become full-blown fights. His rationale and your restraint had always managed to hold the worst at bay and settle any troubles with a few deep breaths, calm words and a compromise. It was something you were hugely proud of, something you had never been able to do before, and with him - you finally seemed to manage.

But now, after a tirade of harsh words, hurtful remarks and slammed doors you are alone in your room, curled up in a bed that feels much too big and streaks of cold tears on your cheeks. Immediately after you stormed out Alastor's radio tower you regretted your tone, regretted what you said, the way you got irrationally upset and how you provoked him - just to hurt him. You were unfair, cruel even, and the worst part was you didn't mean a single thing you said in the heat of the argument. Of course, Alastor said some choice words to you too, nasty things said in cold calmness, but only in reaction to your emotionally charged onslaught. And it didn't change the fact that you had done him wrong, over a fucking triviality that spun out of control.

It doesn't change the fact that the feelings and thoughts you feared slowly return, thoughts of your inadequacy, your worthlessness, your shortcomings all coming back into your head in one big punch of guilt and insecurity. Spiraling, you feel yourself getting more and more tense, like a pressure cooker without a valve, ready to burst. Your chest hurts - no, everything hurts: Your chest, your arms, your head, your heart.

You had done so well.

But you are desperate, panicked - you've pushed the one person away that was able to ground you, the only one that could make you feel safe and strong enough to withstand this urge, this need to hurt, to release. You bury your nails in your thigh, but it is far from enough. He must hate you now, and could you blame him? No, no you couldn't, and you push yourself off the bed, almost frantic.

Release, release, release - where is it? The shame you hid when you first moved into the hotel, the valve you had used so often to momentarily drain yourself from this burdening pain, the tool you had to use because you weren't reborn in hell with the fortune of sharp talons.

The loose floorboard creaks under your erratic steps. Ah. There. Hidden under your feet, untouched for so long. You start to cry again as you kneel down, lifting the panel. You feel like a failure.

Sorry, I am so sorry, your head chants as you reach for it with trembling hands, please just let it be a little less, just a tiny, little...

"Darling..."

You freeze. His voice is quiet, tune- and toneless echoing from behind you. It sends a new shiver through your tense, quivering body. Your hand hovers over the small object but you can't move it away, eyes squeezed shut in defeat. Your brain races, thinking of anything to say but coming up empty.

"My sweetling, whatever you're looking for under there...", he continues slowly, softly, each step of his dressing shoes against the parquet resounding painfully loud in your ears. You're so mortified by him catching you in the act that the tight coil in you seems ready to snap. "...will not do you any good."

He halts when when he is next to you, kneeling down. You feel his shoulder brush your back as he lays a clawed hand on yours and gently pulls it away from the hole in the floor. Your shoulders begin to shake with ragged sobs and his tender touch on your cheek prompts you to tilt your head, face hot, and to look him into his eyes that seem both understanding and sad.

"Harming yourself will only make you hate yourself more than you regrettably already do."

You try to breathe, but fail miserably, choking on the air around you. How could you justify what you were about to do, how could you hurt him again like this, with this action, with this thoughts, after everything you both have worked for? You had done so well - Why didn't you have it more under control, like you should?

"I'm sorry, A-Alastor... I'm sorry, s-so sorry, please..."

He pulls you into him, his arms wrapping around you in a tight, steady embrace. One hand comes up, stroking your hair in tender movements, shushing you quietly as he lets you sob into his shoulder. The longer he holds you the easier it gets to draw deep breathes, until you finally manage to draw in the air that your body lacked so much. With each rise and fall of your chest, you feel a tiny bit of the panic fade, as if his soothing static draws it out in humble waves, soft and soothing around and inside you.

"I know, darling...", Alastor murmurs, kissing the top of your head and tightening his hold, "It's all long forgiven already."

A shattered sigh escapes you. How could he do all this for you? Accept you, with all the flaws and mistakes and shortcomings? How can he forgive you with such gentle ease? And still care for you, despite and including it all, why? How?

"Please don't hate me..."

He only loosens his grip when you stop trembling, carefully taking your chin between his claws, prompting you to break the chain of self-degrading thoughts and silencing the whispers in your head as he locks his eyes on yours.

"I could never, darling, even if I tried. But you need to understand: You are fighting the most vicious and cruel enemy there is, my love.", his face is void of the smirk he often wore, the one he doesn't use to tease or ridicule, or mock, it's his serious smile. The one he wears when he's about to be blunt. "Yourself."

A sudden rush of fresh tears cloud your vision. He's right, you know he is - you have always been your own worst enemy. Never giving yourself a fighting chance, the help and care you didn't feel you deserve. It felt so tiring, hopeless, in these moments where you fell victim to your weakness and turned it all onto yourself.

"I'm... so weak."

"We all have our battles. And this happens to be one you exhausted yourself to win on your own. However...", he offers you a sweet smile, taking your hand, "...it's a battle you don't have to fight alone anymore."

He takes your face into one of his large hands - the warmth of his palm is soothing against the rawed skin of your cold cheek as you instinctively lean into it, chasing the gentleness of the touch. The smile he gives you is more serious than you've ever seen before, and he lifts his other hand, waving his fingers for a split second in the corner of your eyes - the loose floorboard squeaks as it magically sets itself back into its place and seals itself with the flooring, eliminating the option of taking it off again. Alastor sighs, tilting his head to recapture your gaze.

"Whatever angry words are exchanged and however vexed we might be with each other... please, my love, let me hold you together in my arms when you threaten to fall apart like this."

How long he held you in his arms that night, settled in your bed instead of his as you usually did - you didn't know. How many soothing touches he planted on your body – you didn't count. All that mattered were the soft kisses that he pressed on your cheeks, the way he held your hand, fingers entwined with yours, and the soothing words he repeated to you, over and over like a mantra.

"You are doing well, my love."

[aviiarie]

⊱ ۫ ׅ ✧ SUBSTITUTE BIG BROTHER. platonic pm!dazai & reader !

synopsis. dazai is reduced to his lowest form: babysitter for chuuya's sibling. contents. PLATONIC. chuuya's younger sibling!reader. gn!reader. they/them pronouns used. fluff. 1.9k words. notes. dazai gets some fluff, as a treat. and as an apology for the amount of pain i am putting him through with the next thing in my drafts. ALSO this is an old, completed draft and was my first time writing dazai so apologies for any mischaracterization.

“You’re kidding me.” Dazai said dryly, staring at the kid before him. They met his gaze with a fiery glare, daring him to continue.

“Do you have something to say?” they snapped. Dazai raised an eyebrow. “Go on, spit it out.”

“I’m only wondering how that yappy little dog’s precious sibling managed to escape their kennel,” Dazai hummed, the corner of his mouth ticking upwards as they began to protest. They sounded just as furious as their brother; the resemblance amused him immensely. “Aren’t you supposed to be… anywhere but here?”

The question was out of courtesy more than anything; Dazai knew the answer very well. Chuuya was tight-lipped about almost every aspect of his life that wasn’t intertwined with the Port Mafia, but his sibling was one detail that Dazai had managed to squeeze out. It wasn’t voluntary, mind you. It was more that Chuuya was explaining his life before the Mafia to Kouyou during one of their evenings drinking tea together, and Dazai had started eavesdropping at the right moment.

When he casually dropped their name during a conversation a week later, Chuuya has gone still for only a moment, before shoving him against the nearest wall and holding a knife to his throat.

“How the fuck do you know about them?” Chuuya had hissed.

Dazai wheezed, for once caught off guard. He’d been expecting Chuuya to react emotionally, but the idea that he would resort to murder within seconds had somehow slipped his mind. “Perhaps Chuuya shouldn’t leave the door open if he doesn’t want his conversations being overheard. I’m sure Ane-san would agree, it was her conversation too.”

Chuuya turned white. His grip loosened, and Dazai slipped away from his grasp. “Shit.”

“Mhm!” Dazai said in a singsong voice, readjusting his collar. “So, tell me about them. How old are they?”

“I’m not talking to you about them, you bastard.” Chuuya tucked his knife away, shoving past Dazai with far more force than was necessary.

“Oh, come on,” Dazai whined childishly, but there was a dark glint in his eyes. “Would you prefer to talk to Boss about them?”

Chuuya’s face turned the prettiest shade of red. “You wouldn’t dare—”

“Of course, Chuuya wouldn’t keep such a key detail of his life hidden away for no reason.” Dazai interrupted. “And maybe I could find it in myself to omit said detail when the Boss questions me about where he’s been disappearing to, for a price, of course—”

“You’re a real piece of shit, you know that?” Chuuya scoffed. “Fine. I’ll owe you a favour, and in exchange you do not breathe a word of their existence to anyone. They don’t exist to you, got it?”

Even when trying to appear confident, there was still a note of anxiety in his tone. The mere mention of his sibling was enough to rattle him, it seemed. Dazai paused for a moment, letting Chuuya stew in his restlessness.

“Well? Do we have a deal, asshole?”

He agreed. He wouldn’t tell a soul about [Name], and Chuuya would postpone smothering him in his sleep until he had reasonable cause. Their little secret, Dazai called it—as if anything could stay secret from the Boss for long.

One of the prerequisites for making sure the Port Mafia never knew of their existence, was ensuring that they took careful steps to prevent contact with members of said Port Mafia. An easy way for that to be guaranteed was to avoid any and all places associated with the Mafia, to minimise the chances of bumping into any unsavoury types that might consider their relation to Chuuya to be a weakness to exploit.

All this to say: the last place they should be was right in the middle of Port Mafia territory.

Dazai sighed. “Chuuya will be mad that you’re here, you know.”

“Who even are you?” they asked, in lieu of an answer.

“I’m hurt!” he gasped, grasping at the front of his shirt like a Victorian woman clutching her pearls. “Is Chuuya so cruel that he never mentions his own partner?”

“Are you Dazai?” they asked, wrinkling their nose at him. “Chuuya won’t shut up about you. He thinks you’re really annoying.”

“Oh, the feeling is mutual.” He laughed. “What else does he say about me? Does he tell you about how I can shoot a gun better than he ever will? How one touch from me renders his ability useless? How I’ve beat him in every round of arcade games we have ever played together?”

“He actually said you were big-headed, but I think I could have gathered that myself.” They said dryly.

“Tch. Such a mean dog, spreading lies about me.” Dazai complained, but his mind was elsewhere. He eyed the rumpled state of their clothes and dark circles around their eyes. If they were desperate enough to ignore their brother’s warning to keep away while he was working, the matter must be urgent, and Dazai knew Chuuya would bite his head off if he left them alone in such a dangerous place.

“Why don’t we wait for your brother somewhere nicer than here?” Dazai suggested. “I know a place that isn’t too far, that we both frequent.”

“Am I being kidnapped?” They asked warily.

“Why would I want to kidnap someone as unpleasant as you?” Dazai scrunched his nose up at the thought. “Besides, I’m supposed to be helping keep your existence on the downlow. That becomes difficult if everyone in the Port Mafia catches wind of a strange young person asking for Chuuya.”

“They won’t,” they said, but their voice was doubtful.

Dazai turned, tucking his hands in his pockets and walking back the way he’d come. “Come on. It’s not a long walk.”

The lights and sounds of the arcade were a dull comfort on Dazai’s senses. A chime of the bell above the door greeted them both when they entered, the cashier looked up and gave them a nod.

“Have you been here before?” Dazai asked, and they shook their head. “Excellent! As your benevolent guide, I will be happy to show you around.”

“I thought we were waiting for my brother?” They squint at him suspiciously.

“Of course, but we might as well have fun while we're at it.” Dazai steered them over to the corner to the best machine in the arcade, the game that him and Chuuya had a running bet on who could beat.

It was a basic side-scrolling hack-and-slash game, with only four controls and very simple graphics. What made it stand out was not the game itself, but how infamously hard it was. The first few levels were easy, but once the game deemed the player had an adequate understanding of the controls and how the game worked, it would increase in difficulty until the player was left in an aggravatingly high-speed bullet hell that took an inhuman amount of dexterity to defeat.

There were 100 levels in total. Dazai—who had his initials permanently at the top of the high score board—had only manged to get past level 96.

“This is the best test of skill that this arcade offers.” Dazai slid a token into the machine and he was met with a title screen he had seen many times before. The tinny music came out of the speakers, cheerfully announcing the name of the game. The player character appeared—a little red and black silhouette of a person—as well as the first enemy.

“It's deceptively simple—”

Jump. Punch. Slide. Dodge.

It was a pattern, muscle memory that had settled into his fingers. His movements were precise and measured and not a second off the mark.

“—But it gets difficult.”

Jump. Dodge. Punch. Slide.

He was close. So close.

“If you just—”

Dodge. Punch. Slide. Dodge.

Level 97 appeared across the screen—the highest he’d ever gotten before.

“—Keep going...”

Dodge. Dodge. Slide. Punch—

Game over.

“...Ugh.”

Dazai slumped in his seat, miserably entering his initials into the high score again. Chuuya would be cursing his name if he knew that he had managed to once again overtake him, but he could hardly savour the thought when he wasn't there to witness it.

With a sigh, Dazai glanced over to [Name] beside him. They were watching the screen, but their foot was tapping against the ground in an uneven rhythm, and they were picking at the edges of their nails without even seeming to realize it.

The anxiousness had set in again, it seemed. Dazai cleared his throat. “Do you want to try?”

“...Alright.”

Somewhere between the first and twelfth round of games, he’d sent a short message to the contact in his phone labelled ‘Slug’.

come to the arcade. i have a surprise :P

And when that message was left on read, Dazai decided to clarify further with a second.

the surprise is [name] by the way.

By the time their thirteenth round finished and [Name] left to use the restroom, the doors were slamming open and a familiar person with red hair and wild eyes burst in. He scanned the room, locating Dazai’s bandaged self easily heading straight for him.

“Where are they?” he hissed, turning back and forth like they would appear beside him when he wasn’t looking.

“Who? I’m not sure I know who you’re talking about?” Dazai asked innocently, as if he had done anything innocent in a long time.

“Don’t mess around! Where the fuck is—”

“Chuuya.” A voice dripping with relief cut right through Chuuya’s rising yell. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“[Name]!” Chuuya spun around, the tension melting from his stance as he saw them. “Where were you? I got home and you weren’t there.”

“I was looking for you.” They glanced over to Dazai, and lowered their voice. The rest of their exchange was muffled under the sounds of beeping and chimes from the arcade machine. Throughout it, Dazai stood frozen watching the pair.t

“We’re leaving,” Chuuya said, after what felt like hours of whispering. “…Thank you for looking out for them today.”

“You thank me like I did it out of the goodness of my heart,” Dazai said with a laugh. “That’s one more favour Chuuya owes me now.”

“Bastard. See if I ever thank you for anything again.” Chuuya growled, turning on his heel and pulling his sibling along with him.

Dazai watched the pair leave, his eyes lingering on their retreating forms. It was unsettling how easily they molded to fit the other’s company; the way Chuuya unconsciously matched his steps to theirs, the way the tension melted from their shoulders the moment they laid eyes on him. Even the tone of Chuuya’s voice softened when he addressed them, which was a sight that Dazai didn’t think he was capable of.

Was this family? Did Dazai act this way long ago when he had a relatives of his own? He could hardly fathom reaching such a closeness with anyone, let alone a family. Was he even capable of such a thing, being the broken, shell of a being he was?

Dazai shook his head, ridding himself of the trivial thoughts clouding his mind. When he left, he left alone.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai.

[erinawritesheadcanons2]

Could I ask for either a poly or love triangle with the DreamTale twins? They’re my comfort characters and I’m not doing too well emotionally recently. Love what I’ve read of your work! Have a good day! <3

Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans Love Triangle Headcanons, Ink and Error Love Triangle, Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans Love Triangle

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A/N: Hello there @artsyfangirl! I hope you do not mind that I am adding Fell and Blueberry as well as Ink and Error. Just take it as a bonus for you since you don't really have a good day!

Warning: Cursing from Fell

Gender: Neutral

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Nightmare Sans and Dream Sans

Almost impossible because the two of them are different and we cannot forget that Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans would always fight with each other as Nightmare is the leader of Bad Sanses and Dream Sans is the leader of Star Sanses.

It is like a war because the two of them are going to end up fighting with each other despite the war between the Bad Sanses and the Star Sanses ended many years ago but it's not as aggressive between Ink and Error Sans

Dream Sans going to steal your attention by trying to make you laugh with his silly antics or his stupid but funny jokes as he would talk with you.

He would also try to steal your attention by giving small but meaningful gifts, something like little trinkets, keychains, or maybe a hand-made sweet ( I headcanon that Dream can bake).

And he would also always listen to you talking about anything even though he does not understand. He would try to understand them and give the response that you want but sometimes....it fails.

Unlike Dream, Nightmare is much less obvious when he tries to steal your attention away from Dream Sans. He would secretly tell you about all the bad things Dream did.

When Dream is not around, he keeps you in his room and not letting you go out but keeps you around as his tentacles would hold you. Sometimes, his words could make you turn red because he would whisper those 'You look dazzling my dear in this outfit but you look even more amazing if you don't wear them.' (AYO- WHAT THE FUCK)

Trying to impress you by showing you what Dream might not have but he has it (For example, if you love the library. He would allow you to read the books in there and he would be your tutor).

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The stars sparkle under the darkness of the sky and two creatures stand together to see all of the stars since the stars shine the brightest at twelve at midnight. A skeleton with a golden cape and light blue jacket standing close next to his crush. They/he/she has (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length with a pair of mesmerizing (E/C) eye colours and (S/C) skin colour.

Using his powers and the staff he always brought around, he created a portal into the Outertale Universe, a place where the stars were brighter than ever, and dreams seemed to come to life. (Y/N) was completely captivated by the mesmerizing beauty of the Outertale Universe. The stars twinkled with an enchanting light, and the whole place exuded a sense of peace.

On the other realm were a pair of cyan eyes seeing the sight from the crystal ball. A skeleton with tentacles and goopy slime all over him watched his brother being romantic to (Y/N) from the shadows, jealousy brewing within him as he saw Dream Sans and (Y/N) together in the Outertale Universe.

It did not take much time for a dark and swirling portal to appear far away from where Dream Sans and (Y/N) stood together to enjoy the sight of the stars, and ominous black tentacles emerged. They snaked towards you, reaching out like a rubber band and wrapping around (Y/N).

The cold sensation around the waist made (Y/N) (L/N) gasps in aghast, horror, and surprise. It was tight enough so you could not escape from the grip but it was not hard enough to hurt you in any way since he did not want you to get hurt. Nightmare Sans, who had been lurking in the shadows, had seized this opportunity to snatch you away from Dream Sans

Dream Sans was taken aback, a mixture of shock and horror painted across his usually cheerful face. In the blink of an eye, the person with (H/C) hair colour and (S/C) skin colour was taken away from Dream Sans and Outertale, leaving him in a stupor. "Oh no! I should go to Nightmare's castle!" He pulled out the staff from his belt.

On the other side of the world, (Y/N) crosses her/his/their arms together and stares at the goopy skeleton with a black stare. You are clearly not amused by his little stunt. "What are you looking at, don't give me that look," Nightmare Sans rolls his pinpricks. "Really? Suddenly kidnapping me out of nowhere when I was hangout with Dream?" (Y/N) squints her/his/their eyes. "Ughh, what so great about Outertale? I can bring you there every day if you want. I could even bring you to a better place," Nightmare scoffs.

The battle between the two brothers raged on, neither willing to back down as they wanted your attention and no one else could have it. . As this pattern continued, (Y/N) grew increasingly not amused with Dream Sans and Nightmare Sans constantly kidnapping her/him/them out of nowhere.

The constant fighting between the two skeleton brothers had become more of a burden than a romantic pursuit, and they/she/he wished for a way to break free from this never-ending cycle. "You two really acting like five years old. I'm even more impressed nowadays kids seem to be more mature than you two," (Y/N) mutters.

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Ink Sans and Error Sans

If the love triangle between Nightmare and Dream Sans is already bad. Ink Sans and Error Sand would be much worse than those two because they would constantly FIGHT for your attention.

It is so bad that sometimes it feels like you could just take a chair and popcorn just to watch the drama between these two because they would fight for anything, not just your attention.

Ink Sans when trying to get your attention is by bringing you to the portal and showing you all of the beautiful Alternate Universes to impress you since he is the protector of Aus.

He would also just steal you away when you have free time to draw together with him. Sometimes, he would throw bits of compliments on your drawing, even if it was bad. He just likes your creativity.

He would also try to create something out of his paintbrush, small gifts maybe something adorable such as plushies and giving it to you to make you happy.

Error Sans is not as romantic as Ink Sans sadly so he had difficulty stealing your attention but I can see that he would bring you to some beautiful AUS despite him being an AU's destroyer, to watch the star.

Protects you from the other skeletons surprisingly and not letting anyone touch you, especially Ink Sans as he glares at the protector of AU's since he knows Ink also has a crush on you.

Also, he's a bit of a bully. To get your attention, he would make fun of you and give you tons or ridiculous nicknames just to piss you off and he's always amused each time you react to him.

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On the small beanbag inside of the living room, a person with (H/C) hair colour with (H/L) hair length and a pair of (E/C) eye colour as well as (S/C) skin colour sitting on it with books sprawled around the small chair. (Y/N) had been enjoying a peaceful afternoon, nestled comfortably in the bean bag. Their/her/his eyes scan every word of the book.

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, the perfect ambience for your novel. You had just begun to immerse yourself in the world of words when, out of nowhere, a mysterious portal appeared in the corner of the room. The portal was glowing with the colour of the rainbow decorating it.

Startled by the sudden appearance of the portal, (Y/N) dropped their book, their heart racing. From the portal emerged the skeleton with a spot of ink on his cheek, a giant paintbrush on his back and a giant brown cape draped on his back. The protector of the multiverse as he would protect the universes from certain skeletons.

"Hey (Y/N)!" Ink said cheerfully, a wide smile on his face. "What are you doing?" "I was just reading, Ink. What's going on?" Still, a bit bewildered by the unexpected visit, (Y/N) stammered to Ink Sans. "Well, I had this idea for some collaborative drawing, and I thought, who better to join me than you? We could create something amazing together!" Ink's pinpricks twinkled in excitement.

(Y/N) was initially hesitant because the books that you had been reading had not finished and it was in the chapter where the main character faced their rival. But the idea of spending time drawing and the thought about the possibility of creating art together with Ink sounded fun too. "Sure, why not? Let's go," (Y/N) agreed with a smile.

With a bright smile, Ink Sans gestured for (Y/N) to follow him back through the portal and leave behind the book that (Y/N) still had not finished. But all of that excitement was gone as (Y/N) and Ink went inside the portal. Unsurprisingly, there is another guest who was not invited by Ink. "Oh no....you gotta be kidding me," Ink sighs.

The skeleton stepped off from the strings once he saw Ink and (Y/N) on the ground. The familiar black skeleton with a black coat, blue hood and black slippers strutted up to both Ink Sans and (Y/N). "iT HaS BeEn SuCh a LonG Time Isn'T it? bUddY?" A smug smile spread across his face. "Error, Leave us alone. You had already spent time with (Y/N) yesterday. Today is my turn," Ink Sans rolls his pinpricks. "NaAh. I Don't ThiNK sO," Another portal appears behind him.

Ink Sans quickly took the giant paintbrush from his back so he could create a shield for you but he was too late because the strings were wrapped on every one of your limbs. Error Sans created another portal of his own and, with (Y/N) wrapped on his strings, stepped into it, disappearing from Ink's realm.

You couldn't help but let out a sigh of frustration. Turning to Error Sans, he was smirking and holding you as if you were his captive. "Error, you know we spent time together yesterday. You could have given Ink a chance. This isn't fair to him," you scold him,your irritation was evident in your tone.

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Underfell Sans and Underswap Sans

A love triangle between Underfell Sans, You, and Underswap Sans might be a little ridiculous because it feels like you are taking care of a skeleton that acts like a golden retriever and also some kind of skeleton that acts like an emo with anger issues.

The other one is going to bully you just to get your attention and just to see your reaction and the other one is trying to hog all of your attention and will follow you everywhere.

Underswap Sans can be a little bit of an attention seeker because he would try to make tacos ( and end up burning all of them or using the wrong condiment and creating something inedible).

If you are busy, would give you that sad look on you before begging you to hang out with him and when Underfell was too late to ask you, he would secretly smirk.

He actually knows that he does look innocent and cute despite he hate of getting called cute but when Fell was angry at him and you saw him. He will use his cuteness to get you on his side.

Underfell Sans can be a bully just like Error Sans but a little bit worse because he won't just be calling you ridiculous names. He would make you dress up for a deal, make you watch a scary movie, and be a menace.

Not surprisingly he would bring you to Grillby's bar to hang out with you and surprisingly he asked Grilly to help him out. Even though, he would end up having more tabs. He would pay for your meals and drinks as he wants you to taste the monster food too.

Underfell Sans also steals your attention by playing games together with you. I believe he knows many great games and he always invites you to play a multiplayer game with him.

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The temperature of the kitchen is rising as the sun goes up in the middle of the day, a person with luscious (H/C) hair and striking (E/C) eyes sat in the kitchen, typing away on your computer. The soft glow of her screencast a warm, amber hue across your face, illuminating the (E/C) eye colours.

It had been a long day, and they/she/he was racing against the clock to finish the mountain of files that had been assigned to her/him/them by the old-bladed head manager. But it won't stop nature from doing its job as (Y/N)'s stomach chooses this inopportune moment to growl with hunger.

You could not help but let out a quiet sigh, torn between your desire for food or the commitment to completing the tasks that had piled up. (Y/N) knew that they/she/he couldn't afford to lose any more time, but the rumbling stomach seemed to have other plans. With a heavy heart, (Y/N) decided to take a brief break.

She/he/they stood up from the chair and stretched their/her/his tired limbs and (Y/N) knew a hungry tummy would only distract the process of working and finishing the papers. In the fridge, you found some leftover chicken and colourful bell peppers. It was the perfect opportunity to whip up something quick and satisfying.

Before (Y/N) could make something, you could hear someone scream, "Mwehehehee! The magnificent blue is here!" Startled, (Y/N) turns around to see Underswap Sans. "Oh, hey Blue. Do you need anything?" (Y/N) tilts their/her/his head a little bit in curiosity. "Human! I heard your stomach grumbling! It was quite loud, human! how 'bout I whip up some tasty tacos for you??" The skeleton asks.

(Y/N) couldn't help but glance up at the ceiling, remembering that the Jolly Skeleton wasn't the best cook. His previous attempt at making tacos had been a disaster, he managed to burn them, and then, in a whimsical attempt to salvage the situation, he had sprinkled glitter on the charred mess. (Y/N) had tried to be polite and take a bite, but it had been quite a horrible mistake.

As (Y/N) hesitated, contemplating whether to accept his offer or not, the door to the kitchen from the living room was suddenly slammed open, causing both Underswap Sans and (Y/N) to jump in surprise. Standing in the doorway was Underfell Sans. "Oi, loser, You said you're hungry? Why don't we get some grillby on the corner? The dumb baby tacos aren't edible for your intestine," Underfell Sans grumbled as he glanced at Underswap Sans.

(Y/N) felt relieved as Underfell Sans gave a solution or an easy way out of the situation. You didn't want to hurt Underswap Sans's feelings, but you also didn't want to endure another round of eating burnt glittery tacos. (Y/N) turned to Underswap Sans and gave him a grateful smile. "Thanks for the offer, Sans, but I think I'll go with Underfell Sans this time. I'm craving for French fries," You told him. "B-but those are unhealthy! They have so much grease!" Underswap Sans said.

Underswap Sans couldn't hide the disappointment that washed over him when (Y/N) rejected his offer. He let out a resigned sigh and watched as Underfell Sans escorted (Y/N) out of the kitchen. There was a pang of sadness in his eye sockets before his eyes shifted to Underfell Sans who silently glared at him, puffing his cheeks altogether.

He turned to look at Underfell, who was secretly smirking at him. Underfell was well aware that he had managed to steal (Y/N)'s attention away, and the competitive edge between the two skeletons continued to burn.

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[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Family Drama

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

To Abarxsis one’s family was something sacred and meant to be treasured. It contained those who were with you from the first moments of your age and would join you along your journey through time longer than any friend or colleague could. It was a feeling he held onto greatly and shaped the foundation of who he was. It was a trait he was glad to see shared amongst many humans as they too sought out family to such an extreme that they would pack bond with anyone or anything to obtain that sense of unity. Yet it was with some great surprise that when he inquired about his human lovers’ family they would refuse to even mention them.

 Whenever the topic of family was brought up their mood would shift like a switch had been flipped and all the joy and expression of them would bleed away and be replaced with a cold chill. Abarxsis learned that it was unwise to bring up the topic, but he still could not let it go until he knew why they were so against their own kin.

One night, Abarxsis was watching human entertainment while his lover slept and saw a strange situation unfold. The protagonist, like his lover, also was estranged from their family and refused to meet them. So the other characters surprised them by inviting their family over without telling them so the two parties could reunite and make peace once more.

This notion of restoring unity gave Abarxsis the idea that he could do the same for his lover and so he set out to track them down himself. It took several months of messages and follow ups until finally he had tracked down their family. When he mentioned that he wished for them to reunite they were thrilled at the prospect and agreed to meet them for dinner.

The day finally came and Abarxsis had taken his lover out under the pretext of a romantic dinner. When the pair arrived the rest of the family was already waiting at the table. They stood and smiled as the pair approached and extended hands of friendship, but Abarxsis noticed his lover had remained frozen at the doorway.

A myriad of emotions went across their face as their eyes focused on the family. Their hands tightened into fists as they looked slowly from the table to Abarxsis, who was still smiling, and glared at him.

“You did this?” she asked through clenched teeth.

The smile quickly fell away from Abarxsis’s face as he realized something was very much wrong.

“Abarxsis did.” He confirmed. “Abarxsis saw how talking of family upset Kelly, so Abarxsis-“

Kelly turned and left the room without hearing out the rest of his reasoning. He turned back and saw Kelly’s family looking confused and went after his lover. She stood out in front of the restaurant pulling out her communicator to summon a hover cab.

“What is wrong?” Abarxsis asked as he came up behind her. Kelly’s head turned to him to see it now awash with rage and anger….and betrayal, much to Abarxsis’s surprise.

“I told you I didn’t want to talk about my family.” Kelly began, her fists still clenched tight. “I had made it perfectly clear that I had no desire to speak with them, or speak of them, or even be near them from the moment we met.”

“Abarxsis know’s this-“  Abarxsis began but Kelly held up a hand to forestall him.

“You don’t speak,” she remarked harshly, “just stand there and listen because I am about to be as fucking direct as I can possibly be.”

Kelly only swore to Abarxsis when she was truly angry so Abarxsis remained silent as she continued.

“My family……”,she stopped and collected her thoughts for a moment as if a torrent of words wished to flow all at the same time from her mouth, “are nothing but parasites; and I have not wanted them near them since the day I left their hellhole of a home.”

“They have leached off me financially, mentally, and emotionally all my life. I was the only one to hold a stable job and they expected me to pay for them while they sat around and did nothing. I was the one they came to when they were dumped by their lovers after they found out they were cheating on them. And when I told them I wanted no more part in their problems they berated me by telling me without them I would not even be here so “it was the least you can do to be grateful”.”

Abarxsis had seen his lover angry before but this was something else. This was not just simple disdain or annoyance; this was a deep rooted hatred that ran through the core of Kelly’s being.

“I left,” she continued, “because it was the only way I could be free from their toxicity and now, despite me telling you otherwise, you have brought that toxicity back to me.”

“But..” Abarxsis spoke unsurely, “they are still Kelly’s family.”

“You were my new family.” Kelly laughed without joy and fixed him with a cold stare. “They stopped being my family the day I left them.”

A hover car slowly pulled up and the door popped open for Kelly. She started to enter when the rest of the family came out and started calling out to her.  Abarxsis watched Kelly look back at him and see her expression now one of disappointment and sorrow, before she entered the hover car and closed the door behind her.

The hover car pulled away as the family came up and began calling out Kelly’s name while shouting recent needs for money or how disappointed they were that she hadn’t spoken to them in so long. Once the hover car was out of sight the family then turned on Abarxsis making the same demands. Abarxsis looked at them with confusion as this was not what a family should be. The love and support he had felt from his was nowhere within the eyes of Kelly’s former family.

Abarxsis came to understand why Kelly did what she did and realized that despite their constant need to pack bonding and need for family, the human concept of family was something not as simple to define.  

[brittscafe]

Pairing: Sukuna Ryomen x gn! reader

Summary: Sukuna saves his s/o from danger and comforts them and it turns into something a little more...

Request: Heyo came across your account and you’re a really great writer! Saw that you’re accepting requests. Was wondering if you could do a Sukuna nsfw with a gender neutral reader? The reader is like his opposite: someone who sees the best in people, very soft hearted, etc. And Sukuna will do anything to protect his lover. Maybe slightly angsty where the s/o is in danger and Sukuna protects them. He mad af at whoever tried to hurt them, but his lovers begs him not to hurt the enemy. Sukuna shows mercy for once in his life and then takes his s/o away and takes care of them. Then later after the s/o is ok, Sukuna scolds them for being so trusting. They apologize profusely, feeling bad for making him worry. Then he tells them to be careful, implying he was just worried about them without really saying it cause he’s emotionally constipated. Then things get a bit…heated I guess you could say 😂 before they progress, Sukuna asks his partner if they want to go further to which they smile, giving their full consent. Maybe they’re a virgin and for once Sukuna is gentle in his life? So like fluffy nsfw, but Sukuna still teases them lovingly and such? Sorry for the long post lmaooo there’s no rush! Thank you

A/N: Heyyy! Thank you so much, glad you like my page <3 I hope I wrote the gn! reader part ok for the nsfw, i don't really write gn! for nsfw, but I hope you enjoy, much love!! <3

There is practically smoke pouring out of Sukuna's ears as he stomps on the ground. You're sitting on your knees in the dirt, heart ramming against your chest as Sukuna storms up to the person who was trying to hurt you.

The man crumbles in fear as Sukuna wraps a hand around their throat

"Wait!" your voice rings out and Sukuna pauses, holding his breath for a moment. He glances back at you, his expression softing as he gazes at you.

"What, y/n? Can't you wait until after I kill this idiot?" he snarls out, muscles throbbing. You shakily inhale and sit up on your knees.

"Wait, don't kill him. Please," you beg Sukuna. He glances back at the person who's struggling to breath due to his hand squeezing his throat so tightly, then back at you.

You're teary eyed and a frown is resting on your face. Sukuna sighs deeply and releases the man, who crumbles to the ground in defeat.

Sukuna rapidly spins around and marches over to you. His fists are clenched and he wears a panned expression on his face. You gulp, but a sudden gasp leaves your lips as Sukuna sweeps you up into his arms, taking off.

You rest your head against his chest, feeling so vulnerable in his strong arms as he whisks you away from the site. His arms are tight around you, making sure not to let go until you're back home.

"How could you be so trusting, y/n? It was some random man who turned out to harm you," Sukuna scolds you, hands gentle running over your body and checking for bruises or cuts.

You're sinking into the bed, Sukuna sitting beside you.

"I'm really sorry. I am so sorry. I really didn't mean to make you worry," your voice is wobbly as you rush through your words. Sukuna's eyes soften for a second and he reaches his hand out.

He cups your hand with his jaw, thumb brushing over your skin. "Just be careful, it would be really stupid of you to die," his voice is strict, but also gentle at the same time.

His words aren't the softest, but deep down you know they have a gentle meaning. In Sukuna's way, he's saying he cannot lose you.

"I just can't lose you, y/n. You're too important," Sukuna comments and your facial expression relaxes. He brings your face closer to his, thumb gripping onto your bottom lip and pulling it down.

You gaze into his eyes and Sukuna eagerly presses his lips against yours. You moan because of the suddenness as Sukuna pulls you into him.

Your lips collide together, desperate and needy. Sukuna presses you down into the mattress and climbs on top of you. He pins you into the bed and his hand explores your body.

His hand touches your most sensitive part and your body jolts. He pulls his hand away and breaks away from your warm lips.

"You're so jumpy," he chuckles out with a deep voice.

"Shut up," you groan out, tearing your eyes away from him. Your face is getting hot and you can feel a buzzing in between your legs.

"Do you want to keep going?" Sukuna whispers, lips hovering above yours. You breath wobbles and you smile, nodding your head. A grin spreads across his face and he smashes his lips against yours.

His hands waste no time slipping underneath your shirt and feeling your warm flesh. You press your body into his, gripping onto his shoulders tightly.

Sukuna pulls away from your lips and starts attacking your neck in a pile of wet kisses. He grabs onto your shirt and tears it off of you. His eyes gaze down at your bare top half and licks his lips.

"Stop staring..." you mumble out, bringing your hands up and covering yourself. He scoffs and pulls your hands away slowly and gently.

He sits up and takes off his shirt. Your mouth waters staring at his abs and muscular body. You squeeze your legs shut, trying to stop the buzzing feeling.

Sukuna reaches his hand down to his pants, taking them off. Your heart pounds against your chest and Sukuna's hand travels down in between your legs.

You gasp and arch your back, wanting more of him. He chuckles, hovering above you.

"You're so sensitive," he teases you, voice sending a shiver down your spine. Sukuna carefully takes off your pants and undergarments, along with his.

Your eyes lock onto his hard cock and your lips part open. He inches in between your legs, spreading them and making you feel vulnerable as ever.

"Now, stay still, ok? It might hurt a bit," Sukuna comforts you and you nod your head.

A tiny gasp leaves your mouth and Sukuna chuckles, settling inside of you. A smirk forms along his face as your jaw stays dropped opened, feeling him inside of you in your most sensitive place.

"Easy, y/n. I haven't even started yet and you're about to roll your eyes into the back of your head," he teases you, running his hand down your side and gripping your torso.

You chuckle nervously, stomach churning. "Shut up. I'm nervous," you admit. Sukuna cocks his head to the side and smiles warmly at you.

"I bet you are. So jumpy and nervous, can't wait to get enough of me, huh?" he teases you, slowly starting to move his hips back and forth.

You moan and gasp as he moves, you're so sensitive down there and he's so huge. Sukuna hangs his head low, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

"God, you feel so good. You're already moaning so loud for me," Sukuna groans out, hips smacking in the room. Your moans grow louder and fill the lustful room.

Sukuna's cock throbs inside of you, ready to fill you up with his cum any moment now, but...he's got to hold on. He wants you to feel pleasure before he does, you deserve it.

"Sukuna...," you gasp out, eyes rolling into the back of his head. His cock makes you feel so good and the tears are filling up your eyes. It feels too good.

Your stomach starts to twist into tight knots and your body tenses up. Sukuna feels it and cups your cheek. You glance up at him, panting heavily.

"Just relax, ok? Be good for me, y/n. Let it feel good," he whispers into your ear, pounding into you. The way his skin slaps against yours makes you moan ever so loudly.

Your thighs start to shake as the stomach in your knots come undone. You gasp, letting out a series of moan as you cum hard. It rattles your body as Sukuna continues to thrust in and out of you.

"That's it. How did that feel?" he asks, voice shaky and grunty. You pant heavily and your chest thuds.

"Very good."

"Good. Oh...I'm about to..." Sukuna groans out, unable to finish his sentence.

Sukuna releases his seed in you with a deep throaty grunt, sinking down a bit, his chest almost pressed against yours. It's warm and oozing out of you.

Your fists are clenched around the bedsheets as Sukuna slowly slides out from you. He's panting heavily, collapsing beside you on the bed.

Sukuna wraps his arms around you, holding you close. Your body is still coming down from it's high, sweat gleaming on your forehead.

You rest your head on Sukuna's chest, listening to his steady heartbeat. He cups your cheek, thumb brushing over your warm flesh.

He loves the feeling of your hot laying against his, soaking in the moments after a very joyful one.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

[lunarcrystaldraws]

AxoBill (Bill Cipher x The Axolotl) Personal Headcannons cuz I’m am obsessed with these goobers.

TW// Self Harm mention. Lots of angst too.

(This list is subject to grow and change a lot lol just like you and I.)

Bill Cipher (He/They/It)

(Figuring out his real gender would take too much paperwork.)

Fluff:

Would never admit out loud, but he likes to be embraced. It makes him feel more in control of his thoughts and emotions.

“Yeah! I wooed The Frilly Guy Upstairs with my unfathomable charisma and my unique sense of humor! B)”

Was pleasantly surprised at Ax’s sense of humor. The first time they laughed at one of his weird jokes, the sound of their laughter… caught him off guard… and he wanted to hear it more.

He used to call them “Frills” or “Axxy” in a condescending way, but now calls them that affectionately.

Loves to look at Ax’s starry eyes.

He used to find Ax's voice terrifying at first, but soothing later on.

Angst:

He genuinely thought Ax was going to either let him die or revive him just to kill him again. He believes he is unredeemable, and that Ax made a mistake by saving him and letting him live.

Bill doesn't know of Ax’s dark past. Everything involving that time happened before he was even born. As far as he knows, Ax has always been this goody-two-shoes, preachy know-it-all since the beginning.

Prone to self harm when stressed (Ripping out eyelashes, and damaging his eyelids via, scratching, picking, pulling, etc.)

After an especially bad episode, he is uncomfortable by the sight of his own reflection.

Genuinely has no idea how or why The Axolotl fell in love with his headass. He thought at first that Ax was playing a cruel joke on him.

Bill is just extremely cynical. (He is working on it.)

The Axolotl (Any Pronouns)

(Genderless cuz... why would god itself be tied down to the tight constrains of binary gender 'n shit???)

Fluff:

Very physically affectionate and gentle. Likes to hold Bill and to be held.

The only being in the universe patient enough to put up with Bill’s bullshit and witness his healing journey.

The only being in the universe that can see past all of Bill’s lies, bluffs, and manipulation attempts.

“Seriously! What do you even see in that guy?” “He makes me laugh!”

Has a weird sense of humor somewhat similar to Bill’s that could be considered “uncharacteristic” of them.

Calls Bill star-based nicknames. Ex: “My Star,” “My Starlight.”

During their time as “Frilliam,” they witnessed first-hand humanity’s capability to love and cherish an animal companion, especially one that is a gift from a loved one. They think back fondly to their time under Stanford Pines’ care.

Angst:

Is upset by the fact that Bill was terrified of them. Ax doesn’t want to be seen as terrifying at all.

When their chest is exposed in the air, they wrap their arms around it by habit. They have a visceral reaction if someone touches their chest or tries to restrain their limbs.

Understands Bill’s pain quite well.

A very long time ago, they cried so hard, their eyes fell out. They regenerated after.

May or may not has erased their own memories a few times before.

Wants to tell Bill of their past, but doesn’t know if they should.

Had a twin and Had someone they loved dearly. Someone they used to call “Their little bunny.” Ax would do anything to hold them again, even if just one last time. A time wish cannot bring them back.

Bill’s humor and his more harmless shenanigans reminds them of “Their Bunny.”

Their name is actually pronounced a-sho-loht, but they’d rather separate themselves from that name.

Cosmic Immortality… (See: Sucker For Love 2)

Extras:

Bill’s petty insults do not upset Ax. They have better shit to worry about lol.

Ax can speak every language. Their native tongue is Nahuatl but written in the theraprism’s cryptogram alphabet. (Idk what that specific cryptogram is called smh.)

Ax wouldn’t speak Bill’s native tongue (the color code) in front of him.

Bill’s and Ax’s encounter after his deletion was… emotionally charged, specially for Bill.

Ax’s voice is similar to Satan’s from Adventures of Mark Twain, but less sinister sounding. A male and a female voice overlapping each other, so gender ✨️

Ax was unaware of a lot of the things that went on the Therapism. Something or someone found a loophole to The Axolotl’s all seeing eyes.

Ax does NOT like their gills being touched at all. Bill learnt that the hard way.

Ax can also read people's minds but avoids to do so. They find it distasteful. (They still detect lies all the time though.)

@ ing people who need some nourishment lol.

@skyiiskyii @vimzu @bluecroc29

/hj /Ref sorta

I totally did NOT edit this picture after i posted this cringe ❤️