#i can’t scratch but got fucking dammit I want to

[femboyyghostface]

TATTOOS. ITCHY. DANTE LIED THIS IS ACTUALLY THE NINTH CIRCLE OF HELL.

[cathnospam]

Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.

“It was not that damn funny.”

You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.

At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.

But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.

You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.

He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?

“Who pissed in your breakfast.”

“What?”

“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”

The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”

It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”

He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.

You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.

It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.

After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”

“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“

You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”

“We know.”

You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”

“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.

It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.

“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”

“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”

You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.

Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.

Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.

But Bakugo missed it the most.

Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.

[strang3lov3]

Lie to Me

Joel catches you red handed (3.7k)

Tags- dark!joel, i think we should call him darkdaddy!joel all in favor say aye, one shot, smut, dubcon, just the tip, oral sex (f! receiving) fingering, come shot, comeplay, overstim, handjob, coercion, masturbation, daddy kink, innocence kink, inexperienced/virgin!reader, biiiig girthy yet unspecified (legal☝️) age gap, weird feelings and some good ol' fashioned shame, hitting, implied abuse, Joel is fatherly in a hot and disgusting way, calls himself 'your old man', gratuitous use of the nicknames kiddo and pumpkin, Depeche Mode references because you can’t stop me. Balanced mix of Joel being mean and tender.

A/N - been a while since we’ve seen this guy, huh? Everyone give him your warmest welcome <3 i wanted to warm up with him before getting started on this joel's whole story so, here it is. and I am FINALLY done with this semester, so for about a month you’re gonna get a heavy fucking dose of strang3lov3. Apologies in advance. @endlessthxxghts, you know what you did you sick fuck. thank youuuuuu ♡ and thank you @beefrobeefcal for your eyes!

The warm bath Joel gives you each night is your favorite part of the day. Always. Washing it all away, both the good and the bad. All that dirt swirling down the drain. The delicate soap, the tingling when the water is a little too hot. Bath time is quiet. Joel doesn’t talk much, and neither do you. And he’s gentle, gentle as he washes you. Tender hands rubbing your skin, mindful of the bruises and contusions and the scratches and scrapes he leaves you. He tells you he doesn’t like to hurt you, but that you leave him no choice when you disobey the way you do. 

After helping you out of the tub, Joel thoroughly dries you off with a clean yellow towel. He’s a little rough as he does it, rubbing your skin too hard, tugging at your hair as he squeezes out the water. “Joel,” you whine. 

“I know, I know. M’tryin’ to be gentle,” he says. “You’re tender-headed. Makes my job difficult.”

“You always call me difficult.”

“‘Cause you are difficult, pumpkin. Challenging. Got my work cut out with you.”

You shiver when Joel hangs your towel back up. He unscrews the lid of a container of lotion, scooping out a generous amount. He rubs the cold cream into your skin, up and down your arms and legs. You’re not such a big fan of this part. “It’s cold, Daddy.”

“Sorry, kid. Nothin’ much I can do about that,” Joel replies.  

“Could warm it in your hands.”

Joel eyes you, brow raised. You’re testing him. He knows to expect it, you pushing his buttons. “And you could grow some thicker skin.” 

After moisturizing your skin, Joel reaches in the cabinet for a tube antibiotic cream and dabs a bit on each of your wounds, rubbing the ointment in. “Yeah…they’re healin’ up good,” he murmurs. “Be gone in no time. Alright now, sweetheart. Bedtime.”

Joel lightly swats your ass and sends you to your room, following closely behind you. His knees crack more frequently with his steps, fuck, he’s getting old. 

You bounce on the bed as Joel opens a drawer of your dresser, pulling out different pajama sets. “Let’s see what we got here,” Joel says, more to himself than to you. He shows you both options, “Blue stripes or green plaid.”

“That’s not green,” you point out, “That’s teal.”

“Mm. Clever, smartass. Now pick.”

“Neither. I wanna wear one of your shirts.”

Trouble. You know exactly which strings to pull with Joel wrapped around your finger. He rolls his eyes, biting down on a smile as he puts both pajama sets in your dresser and leaves to fetch you one of his t-shirts. “Arms up,” he tells you as he returns. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

Joel pulls the shirt over your head, the fabric covering just enough of your body to keep you decent. You pull back the quilt on your bed and slip under it, and wrap a plush blanket around your shoulders. 

“Scoot.” Joel sits right next to you, the springs of the bed groaning and creaking with his weight. “God dammit,” he hisses, adjusting for his sore back. Joel reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls out his slightly crooked reading glasses to put them on, annoyed at the way they never sit quite right on his face. He runs a hand through his graying curls, then turns on your lamp and reaches for the book he’s been reading you. He uses the dog-eared page to find his place in the book, something that makes you cringe. “I don’t like when you do that,” you tell him. 

“Do what?”

“Fold the pages.”

“You sound like the librarian,” Joel jokes. “Why don’t I find you some paints or somethin’ and you make me a pretty bookmark then, deal?”

“Deal.”

“Whatcha gonna paint for me?” Joel waits for your response, peering down at you as he pushes a bit of hair out of your face. “Don’t know yet?”

“Mm-mm.”

“S’okay. You got time to decide.”

Joel begins reading to you, making sure you’re following along with him. You rest your head on his strong bicep, your hands wrapped around his forearm. You trace the veins there, counting the scars and marks on his skin. His hands are so weathered and large. 

When Joel finishes the chapter, he closes the book, this time putting a penny between the pages to hold his place instead of folding the corners down. “We’ll read more tomorrow. Maybe watch a movie instead,” he offers. Joel puts his massive, warm hand against your cheek and pulls your head towards him, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then both of your cheeks, then the tip of your nose. “Get some sleep, pumpkin.”

Joel leaves then, shutting your door but not before turning on your nightlight. You miss his warmth immediately, the weight of him on the bed with you. He didn’t make you finish tonight, either. You’re sort of…itching for it, like you didn’t know how much you need it until now that it’s out of reach. 

You’re not supposed to do it on your own. Joel says you don’t know what you’re doing, that only he can touch you there, be it his fingers or his tongue. But you’ve touched yourself there on your own before, and it felt good. Not as good when Joel does it, but almost the same. 

You spread your legs wide, your hand going straight for your clit only for a moment, then bringing your fingers to your mouth to spit on them, just how Joel does. You reach for your pussy again, rubbing tight circles into your clit. 

It feels okay. Fine. You close your eyes, focusing on the small amount of pleasure you feel. Picturing things you find erotic, like the romance books you read in without Joel’s knowledge or Uncle Tommy, Joel’s brother. It makes you feel a little guilty to fantasize about him like this, but it feels thrilling, too. A special, private secret only you know about. 

You hold your breath as you work yourself, alternating between clockwise and counterclockwise circles in an attempt to determine which way feels better. Which direction does Joel do it? You spread your legs wider, testing out bigger and smaller circles. It’s been maybe five minutes maximum, and you’re feeling impatient. That’s another thing Joel tells you that you are, along with being difficult. Impatient. Stubborn, too. 

Joel pushes his fingers inside you when he makes you come, so you try doing that to yourself. Nothing much happens when you do it, sort of like when you try to tickle yourself. Your fingers aren’t as thick, as long, as deft as Joel’s are. But you try all the same. 

Whining, whimpering Joel’s name, the squeaking of the bed while you rock your hips into your own hand, Joel hears it all on the baby monitor hidden in your room. Broken moans in the crackling static. 

He’s only curious, wanting to measure your self control, if you even have any. You know you’re not supposed to be doing this and yet, you’re doing it anyway. Defiant. He gives you an inch and you take a mile, every single time. Always touching what’s forbidden to you, be it the handle of a door left unlocked or your own cunt. 

Maybe he’s gone soft. Maybe Joel’s too easy on you. He doesn’t like to punish you, but what else can he do when you leave him no choice? 

In truth, Joel likes this about you. It’s the thrill of the hunt, the game. And when his fingers are inside you, despite all that whimpering and crying, what’s really there? Arousal pooled at your entrance, twitching thighs and moans you do your very best to swallow. You’re all bark, no bite. You like it this way. His way. You just need a little guidance. 

Joel listens to you fuck yourself on your fingers for a little while longer, palm pressed against his bulge as your frustrated noises pour in through that tinny speaker. He understands, truly. Can’t sleep without orgasming - he can’t either, for fuck’s sake. He’ll be listening to you all night if he doesn’t make you come soon. And therein lies the problem - Joel gives in too much. He’s spoiled you rotten. 

Joel gets up and out of bed, takes heavy steps toward your bedroom. He can practically see you behind that oak door even before opening it - legs spread beneath the quilt, brow pinched together as you huff and pant in both frustration and focus. 

Joel twists your door knob slowly, and silently pushes the door in. He takes the quietest of steps toward your bed, standing above you with his arms crossed over his chest as he stares down at you. You look just as wrecked as he predicted. 

“Psst.” 

You freeze, eyelids flying open to see Joel glaring at you in the dark, his features harsh under the lack of light. You quickly move your hand-

“Nuh-uh, don’t you move,” Joel interrupts. “What’re you doin’ up so late? S’well fuckin’ past your bedtime, young lady.” 

“I’m not-”

“Think it through. You really wanna lie to me? Even after what happened to ya the last time you pulled that shit?”

Your cheeks heat up, your hands shaking. “I’m…uh…” your voice wobbles, you swallow thickly. 

“Spit it out.” 

“I’m touching myself.”

“I see that,” is all Joel replies. A silence hangs as you wait for him to continue. The ticking clock sounds louder, the groaning wind against your window. “But you know you ain’t s’posed to be doin’ yourself, kiddo. We talked about this. S’the rules, right?”

“Right,” you whisper. 

Joel nods, biting his inner cheek as he sits down on your bed, holding one of your feet through the quilt. “You’ve got quite the tendency of disobeying your daddy, you know. What’m I gonna do with you?”

You shrug and turn away from him to avoid his disappointed expression. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, “I just thought you forgot to make me come tonight, daddy, but I needed it. Please don’t be mad at me right now. I’m really sorry.” 

Your apology tugs at Joel’s heartstrings. “Got me wrapped around your fuckin’ finger,” he groans, rubbing his large hand up and down your leg. “You win, kid. I’ll let it slide. But you promise me it won’t happen again, ‘cause I don’t like havin’ to punish you.”   

“I promise.”

“Attagirl,” Joel whispers, smiling at you. He leans forward to press a kiss against your forehead, his wiry facial hair both scratches and tickles your skin. “Alright, now. Let’s see what you’re workin’ with,” he says, folding your quilt down your torso, and bunching it at the end of your bed. “Sounded like you were havin’ trouble, hm? S’that right?”

Joel doesn’t have to wait for your answer to know the truth. He pulls your hands away from your center, fingertips pruned and slick with your arousal. “Oh, pumpkin,” he tsks. “Look at the mess you made.” 

He spreads your legs far apart and sits between them, then licks one of his thumbs and brings it to your core. He slides the digit up and down your folds, circling your clit here and there. “Joel,” you whine breathlessly. 

“I know, I know, I know. Poor thing. You’re all outta sorts, huh?” he coos. “Gimme your hand. You don’t know what you’re doin’ at all.”

You hold your hand in front of yourself. Joel takes it, sucking on your fingers, growling at the taste of your wet before lowering it to your pussy. “Gotta give her a bit of finesse,” Joel instructs, dragging your fingers up and down your folds, just how he did with his own fingers. “Can’t dive right in. Gotta work up to it. See?” 

“Yeah,” you whisper. “Am I doing it right? Like?”

“Yeah, jus’ like that. Give her a lil’ more, now. Rub that clit. Gentle, steady,” he directs, helping you to touch yourself. It fills him with a primal sort of power, being able to instruct you how to best touch yourself, knowing you’ll never be able to replicate his perfection. “Nice an’ slow, now. That’s it. Nope, slow it down,” he reminds you. 

You whine his name, frustrated with how long this is taking. “It’s not - it’s not working.”

“Easy, sweetheart, I know you’re hurtin’. M’only tryin’ to help,” he says. “Gotta work on that attitude.”

You speed up your ministrations, frantically chasing a release that is painfully out of reach. Joel swats your bare thigh, a warning. “Gotta breathe,” Joel advises you. “Can’t force it. Let it come to ya.”

“I’m try-”

“I know you’re tryin’.”

Your tummy rises and falls with your uneven breaths, fingers slipping on your wet heat. You can’t seem to find the right pace to rock your hips at, and you’re biting your lips raw to conceal the words threatening to spill that Joel doesn’t let you speak. 

“Alright, enough of that.” Joel pushes your hand away, and you cry in frustration. “You’re hurtin’ her. Daddy’s gonna take care of this now,” he whispers more to himself than to you, lowering his body. His hot breath fans over your slick cunt as he puts both of his wide, meaty hands on the backs of your thighs, opening you up wide for him. Poor fucking pussy, all swollen and throbbing and aching. Joel swallows hard and presses his lips against your folds, mumbling, “Gonna kiss her all better,” he says.

He begins with kisses, kissing your lips, nipping at your inner thighs. You’re dripping, leaving a puddle of arousal on the sheets. Joel can feel the heat radiating from your sex, how you vibrate with a need only Joel can satisfy. He squeezes the generous flesh of your thighs with his fingertips harshly, just shy of bruising you. Though he could, if he wanted to. But he is curious what your skin looks like unblemished by his violence. 

With a flattened tongue, Joel licks a long stripe from the bottom of your slit right to the top, rounding your clit before repeating the action. The room is quiet, save for the way Joel breathes steadily in and out of his nose that’s pressed against you, teasing you. And your quiet moans, sweet little whimpering noises spilling from your lips with every exhale. 

Joel circles your entrance all wet and sloppily, taking care to press a couple of more kisses against your folds before dipping his tongue inside you, tasting your arousal from the hole it drips from. 

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper. 

“Hey.” he swats your ass cheek. “Is that how good girls are s’posed to use their mouths? Hm?”

“No, daddy.”

“Uh-huh. ‘Cause those pretty lips of yours are for kissin’ daddy’s cock. Right?” 

“R- yeah. M’sorry.”

After chastising you for swearing, Joel dives right back in. Your hands find Joel’s scalp so you can tug on his hair, twirling your fingers around those silvery curls. The action makes Joel smile. God, your innocence. 

He licks at your slick folds, sucking one into your mouth and then the other, neglecting the little part of you that needs him the most. He savors you like this, the scent of your musk, your arousal like honey on his tongue. When you’ve soaked his face, when your thighs are twitching under his wide palms, only then does Joel circle your clit. You shake and shudder, muscles straining under Joel’s grip as he forces you to stay wide open to eat the most sensitive piece of you. You’re dripping wet, clit throbbing and pulsing under his tongue. “Focus right here, pumpkin,” he murmurs, reaching up to grab your chin and tilt your face down. “Daddy wants to see his favorite eyes.” 

Once you nod, Joel lets his hand trail back down your body. Instead of using it to hold you open, he turns his head to the side and brings two calloused fingers to his mouth, soaking them in his saliva before pushing them into your entrance. He curls them against the spongy spot inside you, its location is committed to his memory. You dance on his tongue, squirming and whining and writhing as he works you with his fingers. Joel pulling your strings, watching how you move. You’ll do anything.

“Yeah, daddy’s fingers do it better, huh?” he taunts. “Poor girl.”

God, it’s hard for Joel to eat you in the way he knows he should. It’s meant to be an act of love and it certainly is in some ways, sure it is. But really, it’s all for Joel. It’s all selfish, voraciously consuming you like you’re the first meal he’s seen in days, biting at your flesh like he means to tear it off the bone. His tongue laves over your sex, wiry beard rubbing your inner thighs raw - he’ll put ointment on your skin there, too, to calm down the irritation. 

He strokes that sweet spot inside of you with his fingers, pleasure building quickly. It blooms deep in your gut, roiling up your spine and down your legs. “Oh, Joel,” you moan, babbling incoherently. “Oh, f- oh…” 

The wet, sticky noises as you’re kissed, licked, sucked, lapped at, teased, stroked. The quiet as release approaches - holding your breath, muscles tightening, a pressure building. And then oh, there it is, there you are. Coming on Joel’s tongue, gushing into his hand. 

Joel licks his palm, then sits back up. He sets your feet back down on the bed, mindful of your achy thighs. Your moans have quieted, replaced with peaceful breaths as you lie with your eyes closed. “Nuh-uh, I ain’t finished with you quite yet,” Joel says, lightly smacking your cheek to wake you up. “You know the drill. You get yours and daddy gets his.”

Slotted between your legs, Joel kneels then, knees cracking as they press into the plush of your mattress. He pulls the string of his worn-out pajama pants and pushes the waistband down, and his hard cock lands against his tummy with a smack. “Gimme a hand, pumpkin,” he says, and you hold out your hand for him. He spits into your palm, then wraps your fingers around his thick shaft. “All the way up an’ all the down,” he reminds you. “Jus’ like I showed ya.”

Joel leans over you as you begin stroking him, gliding your palm up and down his length. 

“Tighter,” he says, reaching between your bodies to squeeze your hand tight. He keeps his hand there as you work him, keeping the pressure to his liking. “Attagirl.”

He works a twist into the motion now, bucking his hips into your hand. You admire the look of his soft tummy, the gray and white hairs smattered around the base of his cock. Joel’s cock pulses under your touch, in time with his beating heart. Tip red and swollen, aching for more, more…

Joel presses his forehead against yours and drops lower, taking control of the moment. With your hand still under his and holding his stiff length, Joel guides the tip of himself to your slit. He groans when the head meets your pussy, the warmth and the wetness. He lowers himself, the end of his cock prodding right at your entrance. “I think you’re ready for it,” he tells you, notching the tip inside. 

Your heart pounds, and you put a hand against Joel’s chest. “N-no, not yet, daddy.” 

“Toughen up, kid,” he urges, pushing in a little bit further, then pulling it out again. “Gotta rip that bandaid off sometime. Gonna let me do it?” Joel taunts you with the threat of fully penetrating you, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your folds, fitting it inside your tight entrance before pulling it out again. “On three. One, two…”

You shake your head.

Joel sighs deeply. “You’re breakin’ your daddy’s heart, pumpkin. I hope you know that.”

But it doesn’t change your mind. Joel tsks, then goes right back to fucking the head of his cock on your vulva. He focuses less on getting himself off, but rather getting you off again. Rubbing the blunt head of his cock against your still-sensitive clit, tapping it momentarily before rubbing it in the opposite direction. 

You breathe heavily and shakily, “T-too much,” you say. 

“Y’wanted to come bad enough you broke the rules for it,” Joel replies in a calm voice. “You’re givin’ me another, jus’ like this, and you’re gonna say ‘thank you, daddy’ when it’s over.”

He pushes his pelvis forward and resumes teasing your clit, moving the head of his cock in circles around your clit, causing you to twitch at the sensation. A quick dip inside your cunt and then he’s doing it again, but rubbing left to right. Like the good girl you are, you rock your hips in time with his movements, moaning as the pleasure builds once more. Joel coaxes one last orgasm from you, leaving you a twitching, throbbing mess. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, daddy,” you whisper. 

Joel kisses your forehead and allows you to relax on the pillows as he works himself, still using your hand. He breathes heavily, grunting and groaning as he quickens the way he pumps himself, thumb swiping over the head and the underside of his cock where he’s most sensitive. The pressure builds deep in his gut, just as it did yours, and his balls tighten. His brows knit together and he grits his teeth as he comes, growling as he paints his spend onto your sex. “Oh, Christ. Goddamn, fuck. Yeah,” he breathes, gathering his come onto the tip of his cock, then pushes it inside you before he softens. “You’re a good kid,” he tells you. “Good girl. Good girl, pumpkin.”

-

more dark daddy!joel here

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Kitty gifs instead of pics for you today I hope that’s allowed 🥹

[dragonanon]

Shameless Satan x Reader headcanons because I am a whore- 😩

- As much as everyone would probably assume he’s into “meek wittle UwU princesses” he can dominate with ease, Satan in fact prefers a little spitfire who won’t hesitate to fight back

- You won’t just lay down and take his BS, and it’s part of what drew him to you to begin with. He was probably raging about some stupid shit in the courtroom, and you (probably a desk clerk or something there at the time) got sick of it and yelled back at him “Oh stfu you big red fucker!” And he was so taken aback that someone had the balls to yell back at him that he was left speechless and mildly aroused

- Calls you things like “little flame”, “spitfire”, “dove”, and his “treasure”

- Knows that the sheer size difference between you two flusters you to no end, and he’s a goddamn menace about it. Making short jokes, holding things out of reach, and randomly picking you up just so he can hear you squeak in surprise. Getting cursed out by you is worth it so long as he gets to see that precious look on your face

- Aside from Yogirt, you’re really the only one who can get Satan to calm down when he’s angry and you have a much easier time doing so than Yogirt does. All you have to do is scratch his chin and croon at him, and the big bastard just melts into your touch

- Purrs SO GODDAMN LOUD but insists that he doesn’t. The lying bastard, he sounds like a tractor engine on steroids. He gets SUPER pissy if anyone besides you comments on it

- SO fucking full of himself, mans REALLY thinks he’s above Lucifer and deserves to be regarded as such smh. Your love and affection only further strokes his overinflated ego, as does any compliments and praise you give him. Mf actually grows BIGGER in multiple ways lol the more his ego is stroked

- This man is a cowboy/rancher and I will take NO criticism because I’m right. He’s got THOUSANDS of cows, and lots of horses too

- When he’s not in the courtroom, he’s working on his ranch. Probably has hundreds, if not thousands, of Demons he employs as farm hands to help with all the work, but there are some things only he can do and TBH he likes the physical activity of the work and it’s a free show for you lol

- He gave you a little chicken coop so you can keep a little flock of chickens. You LOVE your chickens, and your personal fav is a tiny rooster you named “Marshmallow”, and he looks like a more demonic version of this lol

- Says he’s not jealous of Marshmallow, but he TOTALLY is. He gets all pouty and grumbly when you pick up the tiny rooster and coo over him, because dammit you should be cuddling and cooing over HIM! Not that stupid bird!

- Has a big, fancy, mansion on his ranch that he lives in with you. In true dragon fashion, he unironically sleeps on a mountain of gold and other treasures lol. How he doesn’t have back pain is a mystery, but you get to sleep on his tiddies so you have no complaints lol

- Runs SO fucking hot! You’ll never need to pay for heating again, let alone HAVE an actual heating system, because this mf puts out heat like an industrial incinerator. It’s FANTASTIC during the winter because he’s so warm you can just cozy up to him and be in bliss, but in the summer it’s fucking agony and you can’t escape it because he gets upsetti spaghetti if you don’t sleep and cuddle with him

- Would prefer you to NOT be in the courtroom with him. He says it’s because you distract him, but in reality it’s because he doesn’t want you to have to see him explode with rage and live up to his title as the embodiment of wrath. He actually tries REALLY hard to keep that part of himself away from you, because even though he’ll die before ever admitting it, a TINY part of him is terrified that he’ll end up hurting you during one of his outbursts

- If for some reason you HAVE to be there, he has a special little balcony set up for you that’s not only a safe distance away from any potential danger, but ALSO has a magic force field protecting it (that part is a secret tho because if you knew about it, you’d yell at him for thinking you’re weak enough to need protection lmfao)

- If anyone so much as blinks at you wrong, he beats the shit out of them. The ONLY reason he doesn’t kill them is because he knows you’ll yell at him like “Dammit Satan, again?! I can’t go anywhere with you!”

- Yogirt 100% uses his love for you to get him to chill. “I know you’re feeling some pretty big feelings right now, but think of (Y/N)~ She loves you and would be so sad to see you this angry~”

- It’s funny because he and Satan both know damn well that you wouldn’t be sad, rather you’d be yelling at him to knock that shit off lmao

- The entire courtroom once got to hear you sit him the fuck down because he got a little TOO spicy in the courtroom one day, and didn’t believe Yogirt he he not-so-subtly threatened to call you. Sure enough, he pulled out his phone and called you on speaker phone, and everyone got to spend 30 minutes listening to you rip this mf a new one while the mighty king of wrath sat there like a sad puppy and occasionally mumbling something like “I know…I’m sorry treasure, I’ll do better.” (No one is allowed to comment on it or else he’ll get VERY angry about it. Plenty of memes have been made about it tho much to his chagrin)

[arahusk]

It’s unbelievable just how much it hurt. The pulsing on the right side of Husk’s head, along with the ache that was set just behind his eyes, so that even shutting away his sight did nothing to help. He woke up with a parched throat, everything tasting like sawdust. He coughed, and his entire body shuddered from the effort.

He hadn’t experienced this bad of a hangover in so long.

There had been some effort in trying to crawl out of his bed, but every throb of his veins made him want to hurl his insides against the ratty carpet of his room. It took all of his effort to not make a mess, even if he felt like one, disgusting and unkempt. He had sweated through the sheets, and his fur was probably a horror show for anyone looking in. And that was one positive to his day, that no one could see him at his very lowest—

“Husker! You’re late.”

God fucking dammit.

Husk only had enough effort to open his eyes while his head lay over the bed at an angle. He saw the infuriating shine of his boss’s shoes, red tips searing into his brain until he thought it simmered inside his skull. For a while, he just stayed that way, looking down, waiting for his brain to drip right out of his ears and stain the leather of those shoes.

A cane lightly nudged against his head. “Anyone home?”

Husk hissed through his teeth. “Can’t you just—” Another awful throb, shooting through his skull. He pushed away the cane with an unsteady hand. “I’ll be down in a fucking minute. Not like anyone needs it.”

“Ohh, I see now! You drank too much yet again. My, your tolerance levels are rather poor, aren’t they?”

Husk would have been more insulted if he hadn’t remembered just how often Alastor drank him under the table. The man had a taste for hard liquors that even Husk found himself struggling with.

With a small beat of his wings, Husk pulled himself just enough to crawl back into bed. “Least let me deal with this headache without you here.”

“Well, it won’t go away like that! Don’t you know a little stimulation to get that blood flowing should do the trick? But you’re not much of a stimulating fellow, I suppose.”

All this yapping was incredibly not helping. In fact, he was sure it was just making his hangover so much worse.

“I don’t give a shit. Leave me alone!” Husk placed both hands over his ears, pressing against his head as if that would be enough to distill every toxin that was running through his body. “Unless you’re going to do something about it…”

What he got was silence—he could barely pick up on any frequencies with how dense his headache was—and for a moment, he thought he got some reprieve and that his boss had actually left. He couldn’t imagine Alastor would have that much fun watching him suffer.

Instead, what he soon felt was a dip on his bed, and a touch against the right side of his head. He froze until he felt those fingers begin to scratch.

Husk hated to admit how good that felt. He struggled against the hold, but Alastor didn’t let go. “Hey, what—”

“You’ll make it worse.”

Another growl. But it barely made it through his throat, all as those fingers rushed through his fur. Claw tips kneaded against kin, carefully to not tear or cut. Another hand rested against his chin, massaging his jaw until Husk could barely speak.

The whole thing was too soft. Too sympathetic. Husk struggled again, but gave up shortly. He found himself leaning against those hands.

Experienced hands with gentle, tapered fingers. The touch moved to the underside of his left ear, while a thumb slid upwards to press against his forehead. Firm touches with a measured rhythm, going up and down in circles. And then those hands pulled him forward, gently, towards warmth that was nearly impossible to resist.

Husk gritted his teeth, but the petting was almost too perfect. The horrible throbs and constant nausea was lessening. He could close his eyes, and the sharp jabs that pricked into his skull finally stopped. There was only Alastor’s hands, the same that had probably steeped themselves in so much blood and gore, that kept such pain at bay.

How did Alastor even know how to do this?

“Nmf…” Husk mumbled, trying to wrench his head away. Instead, another finger massaged down the bridge of his nose, and it made his fur bristle in pleasure. His tail flicked, and his eyelids fluttered open, then closed.

“Why…?” he finally managed out.

Alastor grinned. He pressed down on one of Husk’s fluffy ears with a thumb, rubbing it gently before moving to his cheek.

“I used to have a cat.” Another gentle rub, all as he brought Husk’s head to lay in his lap. “Sometimes, you remind me so much of him.”

He should have been offended. He should have felt demeaned and small.

Instead, Husk pressed his head deeper against Alastor’s stomach, and made his head limp against those hands.

The pain had went away. That was all that mattered.

[daryltwdixon]

The Ruins of Us: Chapter 34

Summary: you're caught under Shane's grip, whose violent intentions and past manipulations come to light as you fight to survive. At the same time, Daryl uncovers disturbing evidence of foul play and realizes you’re in danger, prompting him to urgently follow the trail into the woods.

warnings!!!! violence toward fmc

x flash forward x

x flash forward x

You

Your heart stutters, panic surging through your veins as you struggle beneath Shane, but his weight keeps you down. He managed to throw you to the ground with ease when he had emerged into the clearing after you. His boot presses harder now, grinding you into the ground, and all you can manage is a choked breath. Shane crouches down, his face close to yours, the smell of sweat and dirt overwhelming.

Where the hell was Rick? But you already had the terrible sinking feeling in the back of your mind. When you took off running, that had never been part of the plan. Shane was never supposed to reach you, or at least Rick was supposed to be there when he did. But when he didn’t come and no one stepped out of the trees for you— you knew you were alone. The fears you felt about the holes in this plan were coming true. You’re alone with Shane, and he’s ready to do what it takes to get what he wants.

“You think you’re clever,” he spits, his voice dripping with disdain. “Thought you’d sneak Randall out, keep playin’ hero. You always did like to get in my way.”

You try to twist away, but his grip is iron, his fingers digging into your arm as he drags you roughly to your feet, only to slam you back against a tree. The bark scratches at your back, pain radiating up your spine as his hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make breathing a struggle.

“Y’know what else?” Shane growls, his face close enough that you can feel the heat of his breath. "I saved you countless times, Y/N, and yet you always fought against me. When it was me who got the medical supplies the day you were shot. It was me who made the move to kill the walkers in the barn— protecting everyone. It was me who tried to save you from the trailer trash you were becoming. But you could never let him go, even though he was always bringing you down. 

"And now, even after everything I’ve done for you, you can't ever back off. Can't stop gettin' in my way. I’ve kept this group alive. I killed Otis to get back to you, I never once put you at risk of getting hurt. But all you can think of is how I’ve controlled you, Jesus. I can’t control you, you’re a fucking mess, you can’t even control yourself, dammit!" His fists on you tighten with anger as he says the last words, and you feel your world narrowing to this--here and now, where Shane might actually kill you.

"God, and watchin’ you and Daryl fall apart back then... All that whinin’, all that cryin’ over him? Sure, I tried to actually protect you, keep you from ruining your life. But seein' your friendship crumble was the highlight of it all. Though, you would hop to any man who gave you some affection, huh?”

Your vision swims, panic clawing at you as you try to shove him off, but his grip tightens. You can’t break free. Every muscle in your body screams to fight, to run, but Shane’s strength overpowers you. He leans in, his words biting into your skin like a poison.

“And you wanna know somethin’ else? You remember that day you called Daryl, beggin’ for him to talk to you again? Yeah, you remember. You cried my ear off all night over the phone after that. Me and the guys beat the shit outta him after that. I wanted to teach him a lesson—show him what happens when he doesn’t keep his promises when it came to stayin’ away from you.”

Your blood runs cold, the weight of his words hitting you like a punch to the gut. Daryl. He beat Daryl because of you. The night at Henderson’s when you’d seen him with  a black eye and busted lip. After weeks of not talking, only that one phone call when he finally picked up. It was your fault he was beaten to a pulp. You called Shane that night to tell him about the phone call, how you didn’t understand why Daryl was pulling away so fast. The tears prickle at your eyes, from the memory and the feeling of Shane’s hand crushing your windpipe. You try to lash out, to shove him off, but Shane’s fist slams into your stomach, knocking the wind out of you. You double over, gasping for breath, pain radiating through your ribs.

“God, it was all too easy! Threaten Daryl that I’d plant some evidence, give his dear old junkie nobody brother some serious time, and he was quick to move off you! Didn’t take much,” he leers at you. 

“I was hopin’ when the world went to hell, I’d be done with you,” Shane continues, his voice rough as he steps back, letting you fall to your knees. “Thought I’d be through with all your bullshit, all that whinin’ over Daryl. You stopped bein’ a hot piece of ass and turned into an annoyin’ kid. Nothin’ but a liability.”

You try to push yourself up, your whole body trembling, but Shane’s boot connects with your side, sending you sprawling back to the ground. The pain sears through you, but the physical hurt is nothing compared to the sting of his words.

“And then Lori...” Shane’s voice turns darker, more twisted. “You know, I always liked Lori. Even when I was with you, I was thinkin’ about her. Hell, I was like a brother to Rick, able to stay so close. Lori? She lapped it up, but of course wouldn’t do nothin about it back then. Then Rick went into that coma and the world went to hell. Thought I finally had her all to myself.”

His words twist deeper, more cruel. You choke on the pain, your vision blurred as you try to crawl away, but he grabs you by the collar, yanking you back.

"I had something good with Lori before you and Rick showed up," he snarled, "And then you came and she saw that you were a little too close for comfort--afraid of what you and I were. You pushed her further away from me without even having to fucking lift a finger. Always in my way. Always keeping me from what I want. Whether it was you or Lori. And now you’re keeping me from being a father to that baby in her,"

You manage to get a hand up, shoving at him with what little strength you have left. “I didn’t—” you start, but Shane’s fist connects with your jaw, the force sending a sharp crack through your skull. The world spins around you as you hit the ground again, stars exploding behind your eyes.

“I was done with you back then,” he spits, standing over you, his eyes wild. “But here we are. You keep stickin’ your nose where it doesn’t belong. Thought you could run, huh?”

You struggle to push yourself up, your body screaming in protest, but Shane’s foot presses hard against your ribs again, forcing you back down. Every breath feels like a knife in your chest.

“But you ain’t runnin’ now, sweetheart. You’re right where I want you.”

The cold finality in his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You know you can’t escape. No one was coming to save you—to stop this. Not this time. Your body feels weak, your mind frantic, searching for any way out. But his weight, his presence, is overwhelming, suffocating.

-----

Daryl

“He’s got no bites,” Daryl mutters, crouching down to inspect the lifeless body of what was once Randall. His flashlight beam flickers over the decaying skin, but there are no visible signs of a walker bite.

“Yeah, none that you can see,” Glenn replies, his voice shaky, still catching his breath from the struggle. He wipes his forehead, sweat and dirt smearing together.

“No,” Daryl insists, his voice firmer now. “I’m tellin’ you, he didn’t turn from a bite.” He angles the flashlight, highlighting the snapped neck, the unnatural bend in Randall’s spine. “He died from this,” Daryl says, pointing to the jagged break, the proof that someone had to have done this.

“How is that possible?” Glenn asks, his voice quiet but incredulous. They look at each other then, their eyes meeting. The weight of that truth hangs heavy in the air, unsettling. Glenn swallows hard, the realization dawning on him, the idea that someone killed the kid in cold blood gnawing at his already frayed nerves.

“Get back to the farm, Glenn,” Daryl says, his voice gruff but steady, his gaze locked on the dark woods ahead.

Glenn hesitates, his brow furrowed in concern. “But what about—” His eyes dart to the woods, worry etched into his face.

“Just go,” Daryl snaps, already moving again. There’s no time for discussion. No time for anything but finding you.

Daryl watches him disappear into the shadows, then turns his attention back to the woods, his flashlight sweeping over the darkened path. The tracks are hurried now, you’ve spun on the spot and run fast. The other pair of footsteps—larger, heavier—are right up behind you for a while. Daryl sets into a trot, following your hurried, messy, panicked steps further into the woods. There’s only one person who would follow after you like this, someone he hadn’t seen searching the barn earlier—Shane. The thought alone makes his blood run cold.

[wildemaven]

Sweet Creature: Epilogue

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x F!Reader

WC: 1609

Warnings: 18+ Blog: p in v, established relationship, fluff, Dieter in distress, mentions of sobriety

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

Previous

The morning light filters through the sheer curtains, a harsh reminder of how time is of the essence. 

A sheen of sweat drapes over your bodies, a give and take shared effort, bedsheets lost in the shuffle of positions and tangled limbs. 

“Yes, Dieter— Don’t stop! Please!” You whine. 

Your fingers digging into the bulge of his biceps, his arms flexed and teasing you, delicious eye candy from where you're situated below him. 

“Fuck! Poppy, I’m close— shit! You gotta help me out here babe, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ cramp in my ass cheek.” His hips begin their signature staggering thrusts, signaling his climax is imminent. 

You snake your hand between your bodies, bypassing your tiny bundle of nerves, your fingers sliding through your spread folds, feeling the way his cock sinks into your pulsing cunt repeatedly. 

“Dammit, Poppy! Quit fucking around— fuckfuckfuck! I fucking love that you want to enjoy this, but I n-need you to come with m-me— ah!” His neck tensing as he tries to stave off his mind-blowing finale. 

It doesn’t take much, your fingers nimbly work in circles over your sensitive clit, triggering your cunt to seize up, building up a network of arousing tingles across your spine. 

The room is filled with a blend of explicits and desperate moans— both of you slingshotting over the edge in euphoric unison. 

His head rests on your chest, your rapid heart beat punching up against his ear as you try to regulate your breathing. 

Your fingers scratch at his scalp in a casual manner, his locks damp and clinging to your skin. 

“Happy 6 years sober babe!” You manage to breathe out. 

“Thank you.” Lifting his head, a kiss to your heart then a kiss to your awaiting lips. “I love you, Pops!”

“I love you, babe. What time is it?”

Dieter looks over to your side of the bed where your alarm clock sits on the nightstand. 

“It’s 7:35.”

“Shit! Oh fuck! Get up, I’m late!” You push his exhausted body, his softened cock slipping out of you as he rolls to his side, his cum dripping down your thighs as you scramble out of bed. 

Throwing open your closet door to grab clothes for the day, the clothes you had asked Dieter to throw into the dryer and put away are nowhere to be found. 

“Dieter— did you put those clothes in the dryer yesterday? I can’t find any of my clean work clothes.” Actively searching through every hanger and shelf, only spotting a few pairs of dirty slacks and blouses shoved into the laundry that didn’t make it into the wash. 

“Uh, no— definitely did not. Sorry, Wren and I got sidetracked making cookies and I must have forgotten.” He replies, still sprawled out and naked on the bed. 

“No— it’s fine. I’ll just wear casual clothes again, hopefully the ladies in the office keep their glaring to a minimum this time.” You give him a pointed look.

“What? You say that like this is a regular occurrence.” His hands shoot in defense. 

“That’s because it is, this is the fifth time just this month alone Dieter.” You say as you grab for the jeans and shirt that have been making a regular appearance over the last 5 years that you and Dieter have been together. 

“Well, I never hear you complaining in the moment.” He has a point. 

“Fuck! I don’t have time for a shower either, you're going to be dripping out of me all day!” Using a dirty shirt to wipe up Dieter’s spend that’s smeared between your legs. 

“Not gonna lie, that’s fucking hot—“ The shirt you had used to clean yourself flies across the room and hits him in the face. 

“They should do away with a teacher uniform all together, seems very not with the times to require adults to wear stuffy clothes when they’re dealing with kids all day. Bring that up at your next meeting.” He suggests, pulling the cum covered shirt away from his face, giving it a quick experimental sniff before tossing onto the pile of bedsheets on the floor.

“Yeah, I’ll make sure to bring that up at the next meeting.” You laugh, but you can’t help but agree with him. 

It’s a mad dash to pull yourself together, but you manage to look like you didn’t just get fucked to pieces. 

“Alright, I gotta go— I love you.” Crawling back on to the bed to give him a goodbye kiss. 

“Love you.” He moans as he tries to deepen the kiss. 

“Oh my god! You’re the worst Dieter! I’ve got to go.” 

“Wash your dick today, it was smelling a little musty earlier.” You yell back down the hall, before heading out the door. 

“Really?” Dieter says to himself, looking down at said dick laying flaccid over his thigh. 

*

As predicted, the glares were on display as you walked onto the school grounds, bypassing a stop at the teachers lounge for the comfort of your classroom— you decide the whispered snickers between the office ladies were not high up on your ‘things I want to deal with today.’

Despite your lateness, students must have sensed your off kilter presence and were on top of their responsibilities of reading and writing while you sifted through your daily lesson plans. 

To your surprise, you had managed to forget to make copies yesterday for 3 worksheets needed after the students were done with printing their weekly words. 

There’s a light knock on your open classroom door that grabs your attention. 

Standing in the doorway is Dieter, with two coffees in hand. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” You ask, knowing at least one of the coffees he’s holding is for you. 

“Figured, since I was partly to blame for your tardiness, I thought I’d try and make it up to you.” Giving you his best puppy dog eyes, holding up both coffees in your direction. 

“Two?! Oh my god, I love you!” Grabbing for both of them, giving each cup a glance over to see his cute little notes perfectly placed on the sides of both—- setting them on your desk then returning to where he’s still standing by the door. 

“Are you busy?” You ask, looking over your shoulder to double check your students are still working on their assignments. 

“No, I’m free today. I’ve got the new girl running the gallery on her own, so far no calls of distress.”

Dieter’s hand reaches out taking hold of your fingers, his thumb running over the tops of your knuckles. He tilts his head forward to look at you over the frames of his sunglasses. 

“You need something from me?” His eyebrows waggling at you. 

“Actually, yes!”

His smile grows nearly ten times. 

“I need to make some copies, you think you can watch them for me?” 

Your idea of needing something was not what he had in mind, but he’s more than willing to help you out. 

“Yeah, I got them. Go do your teacher things, I’ve got this handled.” 

*

It takes you no longer than 5 minutes to head straight to the office and make your copies, avoiding every side-eyed glance shot in your direction. 

60 sheets of freshly printed worksheets, warm and neatly stacked in hand, you make your way back to Dieter and your students. 

You can hear Dieter’s boisterous voice as you walk closer to the classroom, taking a minute to watch from outside the door. 

All 20 kids seem less than entertained by him, deadpan stares and little to no excitement— it could be worse and they could be like last year's students who convinced him you let them go to break early, coming back to an empty classroom was heart attack inducing and thankfully no one picked up on the random man with a group of kids chasing each other in the soccer field. 

A hand in the back of the class gingerly raises. 

“Yes, kid in the back— you don’t happen to have a brother with a weird haircut, do you?” His eyes narrowed as he sees a slight resemblance in the hair department to a past student of yours. 

“I don’t have a brother.” 

“Huh, weird coincidence then. What’s your question?”

“Why do you wear your sunglasses inside if there’s no sun?” 

Your hand comes up to muffle you laugh, but Dieter catches the snort that emits from your nose. 

“That’s enough questions for the day.” He retorts quickly, then makes his way to where you’re still standing outside. 

“Okay class, go ahead and pull out a sharp pencil,  I’ll be there in a minute so we can do our math test.” 

You lean back against the wall, taking in Dieter’s defeated demeanor. 

“This class isn’t as fun as your previous ones, those kids in there are ruthless. They refused to call me Uncle Dude too— You need to get a new class stat.” He points in the direction of your students, completely flustered by the fact that not one of them found him fun. 

“If I remember correctly, didn’t you play a teacher once?” You sarcastically ask him. 

“That’s enough outta you.” He smirks, crowding you against the wall, giving you a less than appropriate kiss for school grounds— you welcome it fully.

A passing teacher clears their throat at the sight of Dieter and you, prompting him to pull away and rest his forehead on yours. 

“Thanks for watching them for me, and thanks for the coffee. I’ll see you later Uncle Dude.” 

Dieter leans in one last time, a kiss for the road. 

“I’ll see you at home, Mrs. Bravo.”

A/N: Thank you all for this amazing journey with Dieter and Poppy!! I’m going to miss them so so much!! But, I do have a few one shots already planned, and blind drabbles for them. I can’t thank @gnpwdrnwhiskey enough for diving into every chapter with me and being the most amazing beta to ensure everything was right for these two!! My ‘Asks’ are always open if you ever want to chat or scream about the series, Dieter and Poppy or anything else! Xx

[lumiolivier]

Static

Day 2 of 31 of Kinktober

Prompt: Subspace

Word Count: 654

Matt notices something off about his sweet little angel.

Matt and Mello both fell to the dirty old mattress in the house they decided to squat in for the time being.  It’s not like they were in much of the position to move.  Not after the absolute pounding Mello had just taken.  However, something was odd.  Mello laid on his side, letting his last rush of adrenaline wear off, his back to Matt.  Any other day, Matt would’ve said something crude to him, asking if his positioning was an invitation for another round, where he was going with all that cake, something not like what would be bounced around the locker room of a men’s bathhouse.  But something was off.

“Mello?” Matt wondered, “You doing ok?”

“Fine.” But Mello was, in fact, not fine. 

“Mello…” Matt reached over to him.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Mello snapped at him, “You had enough.”

“Mello…” Matt’s voice took on a much more commanding tone.  One that he knew could make Mello do whatever he pleased at the drop of a hat, “Talk to me, baby.  What’s up?”

“I don’t have anything to say,” Mello kept giving him the cold shoulder. 

“Yes, you do,” Matt wrestled Mello into his arms, “Mello, we just had some of the most incredible sex we’ve had in a long time.  What’s the matter?  Was it not good enough for you?”

“It’s not…” Mello brushed him off, submitting to his embrace, “No.  It’s not that.  It was great, Matt.  You can never disappoint me in that respect.”

“Then, what’s going on?” Matt held him tight, “What’s going on in that cute little head of yours?”

“Don’t call me fucking cute!” Mello shoved Matt off him and found his way back to the edge of his side of the bed.

“But you are cute,” Matt assured him, bringing Mello back to his side of the bed, “Even when you are bitchy.”

“I’m not bitchy either,” Mello only proved his point.  And he hated that he proved his point. 

“Really?” Matt teased him, “Because I have yet to meet a bigger bitch than you.  And I mean that in the most affectionate way I could possibly give you.  I give you bitch as a badge of honor.  You are the bad bitch in the room, Mello.  Always.”

“Even when I’m like this?” Mello still tried to shake Matt off.

“Mello, look at me,” Matt ordered.  And Mello obliged, “Good.  See?  Not too many people can make you do that.  Now, I want you to tell me.  What’s got you bitchy?”

“It’s really nothing,” Mello assured him, “Just…A little bit of self-loathing.  Nothing new.”

“You don’t need to do that,” Matt snuck in a little kiss.

“I know I don’t!” Mello only got worse, “But it’s just hitting hard, ok?”

“And what’s got you in this self-loathing fit?” Matt wondered.

“You.”

And that’s what had Matt scratching his head, “What do you mean, me?  What did I do?”

“Every time we fuck,” Mello grumbled, “I hate what happens after.”

“You mean…” Matt wrapped his arms around Mello and pulled him into his chest, “You don’t want to cuddle anymore?”

“It’s more than that,” Mello admitted, “It’s more like…I don’t fucking know, Matt.  I don’t want to get clingy.  If I get clingy, that means I have something to lose and I can’t afford something like that.”

And that was the moment Matt’s heart shattered in pieces, “Mello…No.  No, no, no, baby…”

“Don’t fucking baby me…”

“No,” Matt hugged him tight, “I want you to get clingy with me.  I love when you get clingy with me.”

“But I hate when I get clingy with you…”

“Hey,” Matt picked Mello’s chin up, “I don’t know who hurt you, but it’s not going to be me, ok?  I got you.  Go ahead, Mello.  You be clingy to me all you want.”

Mello may have kicked himself for it, but dammit, it felt too nice to pass up.

[kitsuneregin]

Blood Crown 2 (Yandere! King! San x Servant! Reader)

Warnings: Non con/ rape (mentioned), abusive nature, psychotic breakdown

You lay on the plush rug of San’s bedroom, you had less than 14 days to escape the psychotic king before he married you and bind you to him. San was as much a coward as he was an asshole, he wanted the marriage to be secret, he worried how his subjects were view him if he announced he was marrying some lowly maid. You were no longer allowed to be away from San, trapped in his bedroom from sun up to sundown. You were going insane being trapped in the room and it didn’t help the San got a sick kick out of forcing you to watch him fuck other servants, a form of punishment for attempting to end you own life.

You tried you best to blank your mind as San would praise them and belittle you at the same time. You would sit with your head lowly trying not to see the vulgar display, and as salt in the wound, San forced you to sleep on the floor like a animal while the other servants he fucked slept in the bed with him. Tonight was one of those nights, San and the Servant were out cold from their fun as you lay awake in a depressed mood. 

You sat up from the rug and wandered into the bathroom the only other area with a window excluding the bed room itself. You peer out of it and see the drop is quiet far, enough to injure yourself, or kill yourself if you went head first. You push against the window wondering if you could break it, a slight nudged move the glass. You felt the gears turn in your head as you made a plan.

It would take 5 days but the time came for you to escaped San, it was late in the night as San had another servant in his bed. You sneak into the bathroom and gently push on the window till the glass popped out you vault over the open sill and brace yourself for impact. You’re body become weightless as you fall to the ground, but instead of being met with scratches from the bushes you landed on a body, you scramble off the person you landed on. It was one of San’s knights, you panic thinking he’ll drag you back to San. “I get that working in the castle is no fun...but it’s not worth ending your life” the knight sighed sitting up.

“Then again it is demon king San we’re talking about” the knight joked. You couldn’t help but giggle, “My name is Johnny, yours my lady?” he asked, “Y/N” you say. “Y/N...well mind telling me why you landed on me from king San’s bathroom” Johnny asked helping you up. “I’m escaping king San...he’s abusive to me and I can’t take it anymore...so I’m leaving while I still can” you explain. Johnny nods and sighs “Well...don’t take it from me, but...there’s a path in the garden that leads to the woods...take it and walk forward the entire way...you’ll soon end up at King Wooyoung’s kingdom, visit him and tell him you were sent by Sir Johnny” You nod taking in the information, you thank him and run to the royal garden. You follow the path and reach the woods without looking back you run into the woods. 

The next morning was hell for everyone, San woke up to you missing, in a panicked state he orders for his guards search for you within the castle only for each one to come up empty handed. San paced his bedroom as he tried to figure out where you could be, needing to relax himself San walks to his bathroom and splash cold water in his face, chirping was heard as San turned to see a bird resting on the edge of his tub. “How did you get in here?” San asked aloud, almost like a response the bird flew out the open window. San’s eyes widened as he rushed to the window and clicked everything together. “Dammit...” he whispers his anger boiling “Dammit!!” San clenched the window sill, “DAMMIT!!!” San roared as he storms out.

He ordered for his knights to search the entire kingdom for you, San’s chest heaved as his blood boiled like lava, the enraged king thought of every harsh punishment. Suddenly San began to giggle, it wasn’t out of amusement, the king’s giggle turned into laughing, it soon turned into hysterical howling, San grabbed a vase and threw it against the wall breaking, he grabbed a picture frame and smashed it. San would go around smashing and breaking everything in his room, tears welled and ran down San’s face. San dropped to his knees as his laughing died down into pained chuckling, San ran his hand through his hair as he smiled insanely staring at the floor. “Oh my dear Y/N…you can’t and won’t escape me” San sighed. “I love you too much to let you go”

.

.

.

You drag yourself to the open path of the forest as you see a village ahead and pray that a nice family would take you in for the night. You walk through the quiet area as you notice most houses were dark meaning the owners were asleep. One house was lit up it was the largest house meaning whoever was there was rich, you whimper at your aching feet as you walk over hoping for help, you weakly knock on the door, moments later a man opens the door, he was handsome. He had lush pouty lips, sharp eyes that bored at your appearance, his skin was smooth and pale, his hair was an unnatural pink. “Why do you knock on my door at this hour?” the man asked, “I come seeking refuge, I have escaped a tyrant king who has abused and sexually assaulted me, I only need sleep for the night and then I am gone” you explain “Where is your destination?” the man asked his thick eyebrows quirking in interest “His majesty Jung Wooyoung sir, I was directed to walk to his kingdom for freedom” you say.

The man hummed as another voice spoke out, “Seonghwa who is that?” another male stepped to the door, he was much shorter than this Seonghwa, his hair was split in two colors blonde and black, he looked almost like a fantasy creature with his sharp and pointed nose, his doe like eyes, and his lips curling in a tiny smile. “A woman escaping a tyrant...she’s seeking refuge for the night and will continue her journey to Wooyoung” Seonghwa said. The other male gasped and grabbed your hands, “you poor thing you must be tired please come in, let us feed you and bed you” you’re pulled into the house as you are hit with the scent of sugar and wood, a fire was lit warming the area, two glasses were on a marble coffee table both half filled with wine.

The floor were cold as the marble actually soothed your feet. “I’ll show you to your room for the night, my name is Hongjoong this is my husband Seonghwa” why did those names sound familiar? You’re dragged to a large bedroom with a connected bedroom, the bed was massive, the sheets a pure white. “I’ll fetch some silks for you to sleep in, for now wash up” Hongjoong said. You take a long bath in the luxurious bathroom letting all the stress and worry melt away for the night. After your done you wear a silk night gown and walk back downstairs. Hongjoong and Seonghwa had papers on the coffee table both reading their own, “Excuse me” you speak up gaining both men’s attention. “I just want to thank you for your act of kindness, I’ll find a way to repay you both for this” you say “Nonsense, you’re very brave for escaping and tracking foot” Hongjoong sighed. 

Seonghwa cleared his throat as you look to him “If you don’t mind me asking...who is this tyrant king you are running from?” Seonghwa looks at you with cold eyes, you look down “King San” you say. The room gets quiet for a moment the tension thick, Hongjoong’s warm aurora gone, his face pale. “King...San? King of the Light kingdom....San?” Seonghwa asked. You nod a yes. The room is once again quiet, Hongjoong cuts the silence “Oh look at the time, its quite late, we should all head to bed now” Hongjoong said. The bi-color haired man guided you back your room. “Get some rest now...you have a long journey ahead of you” Hongjoong said as you climb and bed. 

Hongjoong closes the door as he turn to Seonghwa who is directly behind him, “What do we do?” Hongjoong asked placing his head on Seonghwa’s chest. “What we must my dear” 

[luchicm04]

lost in the forest - part 1

Masterlist

Summary: A normal girl with a normal life goes on a trip, only to come face to face with the biggest enigma of her life.

Pairing: Senju Tobirama/Original Female Character

Tag: #lost in the forest fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 2.2k

Overall warnings: canon-typical violence, adult content, time skips, angst, kidnapping

Walking becomes difficult the more she pushes into the forest, she isn't afraid... It's her fault for losing her guide because of the selfish desire to take photos with her luxurious pro camera. 

She curses the passion in her hobby that made her end up in this situation. She sighs, and stops to raise her hand holding her cell phone trying to obtain a ray of hope. "Dammit, no signal", she growls at her bad luck. The fanciest phone neither the biggest company in the country couldn't keep her from being uncommunicated in such a wooded area. 

She should have guessed this would happen when she decided to enter that tour centered in ecology. 

“Just calm down... Everything will be alright and you’ll laught about it later,” she laughts at herself not wanting to see the downsides of the issue. She carries a small backpack that she easily prepared. 

She’s paranoid and a little distrustful but above all prepared for inconveniences. “I’ve got to keep walking,” she purses her lips bacause she never learnt this type of things. 

She loves travelling, seeing other countries... but she feels stupid by her not attending any survival courses. 

It would have been better. 

She goes on and trips over, almost scratching her fresh pants. She frowns at the lack of mosquitoes she hasn’t seen since she began walking. 

Even so Karen is a very professional woman. She analyzes, observes and assures that something changed in the ambience. She gulps as the trees start to become weird... thicker. There are less bushes and the sounds are null. She looks at the sky. Dusk looms. 

“It’s a good thing I carried a flashlight,” she muses opening her bag and puts away her phone to save energy. Despite having an external battery she can’t get overconfident, judging from her energy bars and the little water in her canteen. 

She could survive five days with that from now one... She hopes someone saves her. 

She swallows hard when she realizes movies were never beneficial to lost people, remembering that TV show where a bunch of friends on a plane end up on an island. She sighs... She rambles and starts to think about other things to try to remove her fear of staying one night on a forest alone. 

And it not being the last time. 

She revises the instructions in her bad memory about the most important things to take into account in these situations. It’s primordial to find a place to sleep away from the ground. She looks up at the mysteriously tall tree tops. 

She doesn’t want to think about the change in the forestation. Sure it’s because she’s more fucked and pushed more into the woods. 

Still Karen... A barely 30 years old woman feels optimistic about it. It’s a good thing she has training, although she knows it’s different from being in a gym. The fresh air enters her lungs when she prepares to climb the tree. 

However... she doesn’t get very far when she feels something sharp near her throat. She raises both hands cursing her luck at being arrested and gulps thinking that she could have entered dangerous lands considering the high number of crimes like this that people easily ignore. 

Her mother had warned her this could happen if she became lost. This is why she told her not to come here! 

“I assure you I just got lost... I’m not interested in revealing your affairs to the police, so please don’t hurt me,” she tries to negotiate with the first thing that comes to her mind. Her heart speeds up, her feet tremble, she sweats... She doesn’t want to cry. 

Showing fear is worse... because being a woman, death is a mercy in this case. 

She keeps calm, but the stranger’s whisper is her only answer. 

“Huh?” She gulps again feeling the weapon at her throat tighten. Her eyes glaze. She sighs... She’s terrified. “I didn’t understand that?”, she declares after hearing that distinct language. 

Could it be indigenous? 

“[...]”, the stranger repeats again. It doesn’t sound like any local native language she heard about in the trip. It’s more like a kind of Japanene, Chinese or Korean that she doesn’t distinguish. 

She always mixed them up. But she could speak a bit in the first one. 

“I don’t understand,” she tries in Japanese. Seriously, if only she had studied Japanese after Spanish instead of German, she would be better off right now. Her mind isn’t making the right questions, neither focusing on the fact that somebody is speaking that idiom in the center of this forest. 

“[...]” The stranger clenches harder. However someone arrives startling her. She doesn’t want to maintain bad thoughts. Two man start to talk and she doesn’t make the effort to understand them. 

Her Japanese is limited. But this isn’t that language. She should have payed more attention to Mr Tanaka’s lessons. And when she feels this could not get any worst for her, being thrown against a tree is the last thing she remembers. 

The headache. 

──

Karen wakes up disoriented, feeling thirsty and of course doesn't react for a few seconds. She's scared. She's in a strange place with old-looking decorations that look straight from those period drama movies her little sister adores so much. 

She doesn't want to cry... Her logic tells her to check where she is, her head is spinning but is proud enough to continue. She's not tied down so she takes the chance to escape. 

First, to know where she is, check for hostile people and that sort of stuff. 

Quietly, with silent footsteps she leaves the bed and she feels dizzy. Leaning heavily on a wooden wall, she swallows. She curses but she holds on not to lie down even though she feels such a terrible headache. 

She hates this feeling. The need to vomit. Until she touches a light bandage on her head. The blow was strong, she sure needs something more than a diclofenac for the pain. 

Hopefully her insurance can pay for it. 

However, it is the door that opens that scares her. She turns back, she wants to run but the only thing she does in her poor state of health is fall on her back. The man only looks at her, he looks strange with a weird outfit that doesn’t make any sense. 

“Get away from me!” It’s silly to say it when you’re clearly at his mercy, now you know why people have the most illogical dialogues in the worst moments. The stranger with white hair does nothing but observe her with his red eyes. 

Contact lenses? She doesn’t know and it’s what she doesn’t process in a physical analysis that she’s unable to do. She turns back until she runs into a hard wall. She doesn’t move and watches the movements of someone who speaks of things she doesn’t understand. 

She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t speak, seeing nothingness in that white face. 

Who is this person? What is someone with almost oriental characteristics doing on this side of the world? Is he involved? She doesn’t know what to think... Karen is alarmed when that strange person with exaggerated features from a convention her sister would love to attend keeps talking. 

“I don’t understand you,” she tries English, German, Japanese and Spanish. She doesn’t care if she understands enough. She doesn’t come any closer and she’s glad that this guy doesn’t pay enough attention to her when he goes out, leaving her alone. 

She sighs with relief at not ending up as another percentage of missing people on this side. 

She feels hatred... although she knows deep down that she is already part of that percentage as soon as they realize she isn’t answering her cell phone. 

“That’s right, my things!”, she tries again when her world moves, making her fall forward with a lost look and the heaviest pain in her head. The last thing she sees are old-fashioned sandals coming from a point above. 

The darkness again... is her friend. 

──

She wakes up again and it’s night. She has a cloth on her head and so very thirsty that she cannot describe it. She sits down with heaviness. She’s dizzy looking around carefully. 

The darkness is firm, the shadows rise oblivious to her problems. Her hands are still not tied so she is sure that she will be able to get out. She swallows thickly with her heart tightly clenched again. 

Karen continues with her plan ignoring her thirst and bad taste in her mouth. She continues her walk and gulps. She curses silently, continuing as stealthily as she expects. 

She was always careful, attentive to all places and avoiding conflict points only to end up in this situation due to a bad trip. She grunts... Her things are nowhere to be found so she continued. She is walking clumsily, sticking her head out of the door and doesn’t see anyone. 

A point for her that she is willing to take, completely unaware that it was just a false feeling that she was alone. But she doesn’t know it yet. Her steps continued clumsily. The sting is light, she doesn’t know if they treated her clinging to that abnormally rustic hallway. 

She leaves. The are some sliding doors that confuse her for a moment. She clings to logic and adaptability to get out of this problem and continues. The hallways are confusing without any type of decoration or things that indicate how much in danger she is. 

It’s empty... that’s till good but now it feels suspicious. 

If you are in the wolf’s den, it’s not an optimal sign not to find anyone, no guards with weapons or something like that. She thinks the worst, however she’s still optimistic seeing that maybe she found the exit. 

Nevertheless, when she sees the sky she stops in her tracks. Karen is obsessive with many things. She has degrees in matters that her family is always critical of because they have nothing to do with her career just because of the passion of understanding what surrounds and fascinates her. 

One of those things are constellations. “Damn!” is the only thing she says when noticing that the constellations look so clear, so impressive that she swears if she had her camera she would take several photos. 

The moon is high up, surrounded by the majesty of the intermittent glow of such distant planets, but what she feels isn’t so positive when she realizes that the view isn’t the same from her hotel. It is different... and even more so when she tries to find some known constellations. 

Failing in the attempt, her heart stops with suspicion. The disbelief of being in something as silly as this... she’s afraid, but most of all she keeps thinking that she’s dreaming which causes her to laugh hysterically. 

“Yes... this is a fucking dream, that blow sure was hard,” she convinced herself by looking further down. The forest is thick, the house is empty and she sees nothing but darkness. 

“[...]” Someone calls from behind scaring her, almost making her fall if it weren’t for the man who is just younger than her in silly clothes from ancient Japanese times taking her by the wrist. “[...]”, he continues saying something. 

But she doesn’t listen. She walks away, she tries to run. It’s stupid, she’s clumsy. She falls down out of fear of everything that’s happening around, a little effect of hysteria starting to come out. Her tears are running, but not so much to cloud her unique thought. 

‘Run away.’ Not caring about the preparation, the fact that she will die of hunger if she leaves or worse yet, eaten alive by some wild animal... Karen doesn’t think much anymore, she just wants to see her family. 

But she tops dead when that man appears again. She doesn’t want to look at her back, she’s sure she didn’t see him walking next to her. She swallows thickly when he takes a step forward. 

He looks friendly. He raises his hands in peace, so different from the first cold contact she had with that faded man with fake eyes. 

This one is... his hair is ridiculously light with a dark complexion very different from the pale one. His gesture is soft, he looks worried. She doesn’t let herself be fooled by taking another step back. 

“Don’t come near me!”, she instructs. The girl may be an important manager in an international company, a person so qualified in things that no one would imagine. Nevertheless, deep down she is still a simple human. 

One who is terrified at this moment and whose life is in danger. 

The stranger stops. He tightens his gesture but remains soft, he trusts no less with the strange words that come out. However, the lack of ability to communicate is the biggest impediment that causes more problems than it solves. 

Two people there... They look at each other, they get frustrated thinking about other things that have nothing to do with them. 

But not everyone has patience, not when she falls into unconsciousness again for some reason. 

Oblivious to the fact that others thought it was better to get rid of her. 

Karen... just fell asleep again. 

Her head will be the death of her the next day. 

A/N: As you can see, this is another story proposal that I will be working for now. I don’t know if it will update as quickly as the others but here we are, fighting with the muses to bring out another character so different from the others.

She isn’t reincarnated, much less impersonating another character... An isekai? Hahaha well I don’t know if this turned out like it was in my mind, but I’ll be walking along this direction to see where it will stop.

Does she know this world? Does she know where she is standing? How will they bridge the communication gap? Or better yet... will she live long?

These and more questions can be asked... drawing themselves little by little among the corridors of this world... that I simply do not get tired of forming in my head with these variables.

Thanks for reading, we’ll see each other soon.

Author-chan out! 

[hiddenwashington]

neverafter meme pt. 2

a meme made months ago but submitted for clue 12 !!!

“behind you are two geese. one of them is good and one of them is evil.”

“everyone stand on the girl child with broken bones”

“sister– what gives?”

“you got it, dad!”

“hey! be careful who you’re talking to! i’m a really nice pre-teen!”

“great, gender reveal crow”

“two brilliant actors. you guys are going to get into the school play this year, for sure.”

“they’re not dirty here, they’re unnatural.”

“i’m going to do a courageous act of cowardice.”

“i mean, as someone who just ate one, it was great for me.”

“are you also a cusping pre-teen?”

“i gotta get you on the garnish train.”

“we’re all on our own in the dark, little boy!”

“[blank]’s become metal as hell!”

“you were special when you were young, and then you fucking went through puberty, and now you’re just ugly!”

“hey, i’ll trade bites in the name of girl bonding”

“am i always supposed to be scared?”

“and sometimes, i think, you also have to be a little bit scary in scary times.”

“deep in your heart, do you feel that you are a man or a frog?”

“answer however you feel, you’re allowed to grow.”

“and now here they are, hardcore thrashing at a party”

“relax you’ve been at a sleepover party.”

“roll for gaslight” - this is so unusable as an rp starter but im losing it

“it was an adult sleepover! a non-sexual adult sleepover.”

“can i help because i have a keen eye for authority?”

“this kid knows where to tell on people.”

“you’re the man to stand up and say ‘adult sleepover gone wrong, my bad, but we’ll get through this as a community.”

“there is a lot of intuitive knowledge in this little body of yours”

“you gotta accept it before you embrace it”

“you’re not a monster.”

“true love isn’t real! don’t worry about it! i’m going to die alone, and so is everybody else, isn’t that great?”

“i’ll think about it, i’ll give it a good noodle.”

“wet, nude spiders on your 12, your 10, your 11,, your 1, your 2.”

“leave me to the ladies.”

“you’re nodding at me like i’m supposed to get something.”

“meow baby, meow meow– okay.”

“you see the smile of a devil you never believed in”

“the most fairy tale shit we’ve done so far is subject kids to shit they absolutely do not deserve.”

“it feels kinda rude to just start throwing fire around but i’m down.”

“i just like little guys.”

“everyone loves a fucking underdog, but i’m a fucking actual dog.”

“you’re about to get your ass kicked, man.”

“don’t need it, but thanks babe! *kisses on both cheeks*”

“look, there’s two kinds of people. there’s scratches people and there’s deeper into the ink people.”

“you’re nothing more than scratches of ink on someone else’s paper”

“oh god dammit are we an acapella group now?”

“i think this makes me want to disobey my elders, when i hear this.”

“it’s not fun to tell the truth! it’s much funner to lie.” 

“if i sing it maybe it’ll be better.”

“from man to man, you need to chill.”

“do you pick the bits before, or do we just– find them?”

“there’s a lot of mean moms around, huh?”

“sometimes you say things in the heat of the moment because you want to protect somebody”

“i feel like a lot of children, the entire moral of their story, they’re just a tool to tell some stupid moral, and the morals are fucking wrong. the adults are wrong, like, so often.”

“ugh! i’m so sick of adults!”

“you just didn’t say anything! not saying anything sometimes is just as bad as a lie, or maybe it’s even worse!”

“can i say? i don’t fucking know you.”

“[blank], that’s torture, right? that’s, like, fucked up shit, right?”

“i guess, sort of, how?”

“i followed a caterpillar that was chasing a butterfly”

“so what it was my grandma’s time, but not my time?”

“i met death, and death wants me to live!”

“i literally can’t believe what you kids have been through.”

“i don’t think you can be a prick when you’re ten.. you’re just ten.”

“us talking is fucking them over– everyone kiss each other!”

“it’s been kind of hard, but good lessons to learn.”

“don’t learn lessons from my torment!”

[1ts-4ll-1ust-w0rd-v0m1t]

ABOUT JEVA/COLLECTION OF WORK

Hey! I'm who you'll call Jeva!

Jeva is not my irl name, but it is my chosen initials irl. It will work for here!

I'm a novice at writing, but I definitely use it as a coping mechanism. Even further, it's some of my art, and I want to share my art dammit! Even if it usually comes from my pain. Especially since writing is one of my healthier coping mechanisms, and it should be encouraged.

My poems are usually written while having an emotional "high," which so far has only been negative or somewhat bittersweet. Some of my poems were written years ago when I was still a teenager, and I think they contain that specific youth. Two of them (the love poems) were written more recently. I'm planning on getting into writing more as it's always been an interest of mine, just not one I thought was personally achievable. I don't think it's healthy to restrict myself like that, and I'm trying to work on that part of myself to be more free.

The story I'm writing is something I've been planning in my head for years with no idea what to do with. I was hung up on it being just right and everything. so hung up that I became worried that I wouldn't bring it into existence at all! So I decided to just wing it! It's never going to be perfect anyway, so why not embrace chaos!

That was a lot about my writing,

I should probably talk more about myself. I'm 21 year old trans man, and I'm gender nonconforming, so my pronouns are he/they, I'm also bisexual, demi aroace and in a T4T relationship with my boyfriend/partner/comrade of 13+ years. So I'm with all that I'm just a .little gay boy, I don't care.

I'm officially diagnosed with ptsd/left open to c-ptsd, generalized anxiety, major depressive disorder, and autism. So if you're ever looking at my art and wondering "what the fuck is wrong with this guy?" that's just what I have medically recognized. I believe I have more going on, in terms of I think I have adhd/add, dyslexia, a dissociative disorder from trauma, etc...

I want to organize everything somehow attached to here so everyone can have a base to go off of, including myself. I'm okay with people giving me notes on my writing. Depending on what is said, I might implement it into my writing and poetry. It also depends on how what is said is said to me. If you come at me being a dick I probably won't respond well, I don't listen to dicks, I suck them. I believe respect is earned, not given. That being said, if you see anything you believe to be a word error, misspelling, bad or lacking punctuation, grammar errors, it would be appreciated if it was pointed out to me. Sometimes, I purposefully use grammar in a way people may think is off because it conveys the point better. Grammar and language is subjective, and I tell you whether it was intentional or not! As for spelling mistakes and whatnot, as I mentioned, I'm probably dyslexic or idk just illiterate. I legitimately don't see it. It's actually really helpful to have it pointed out. Just be a meany. My excuse for but punctuation is that I legitimately was never taught, like I didn't understand when I was taught and when I asked for extra help I was just told, "well what do you think needs to go there?" So, um, I have a fragile understanding of how punctuation works, I just fake it till I make it. Thank you if you end up helping me!

Thank you for reading this, If you did! I hope you enjoy my chaos!

My poem collection...

My AO3

[searenbound]

*Cough cough* dragon Bakugou and his pretty Princess runaway please nsfw if you want

The strong urge to just write pure smut an hour before work is strong. Let’s see if I can manage it!

Warnings: swearing, oral (both receiving), facesittig, implied praise kink, mentioned breeding, monster fucking, written with plus sized reader in mind

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

-Fantasy equivalent of the bad boy gets the good girl trope

-Seriously though there’s nothing exactly romantic about how they met

-Typical rebellious princess sneaking off to adventure a little too close to dragon territory and what do you know?

-There’s a dragon in that wilderness and oh what’s this?

-He’s absolutely stunning and willing to let her go if she ditches the morals and sleep with him?

-Oh no! What’s a young twenty year old princess who absolutely didn’t plan on this happening to do but have animalistic sex with such a handsome brutish man?!

-Yeah she definitely heard stories about him and wanted to know if they were true

-Besides, what’s a bored frustrated girl to do when the most interesting experience was just a matter of sneaking out in the middle of the night and be where she wanted by early morning?

-Pined under him with either thick leg at his sides and a clawed hand wrapped carefully around her throat to keep her from trying to break free

-Honestly Bakugou would’ve just eaten her if her scent wasn’t just pure arousal and lust wasn’t swimming in her eyes

-What a shameless slut, absolutely perfect for reliving his own pent up frustrations

-They spent the whole day with her on her back with her tight little holes crammed full of him until she could barely walk home

-Sure there was hell to pay when she made it home that night but she didn’t care when all she could think about was the next time she could get out to see him

-And that’s their dynamic for awhile, running off to go fuck him any chance she got until actual feelings developed

-One visit its taking her time to suck his cocks

-Making sure each one gets equal attention

-Stroking the one not in their mouth and taking his tight fisted grip and nails scratching at her scalp as a compliment

-Practically buzzing with pride at his hissed out praise

-Then rewarding her by bending her over a stump and stuffing her cunt with his fat cocks and laughing at the dazed babbling she does

-Another time he has her sitting on his face

-Demand really because he’s not having that what if I hurt you bull

-Let him die a happy dragon drowning in her cute pussy if she must dammit

-He so smug about the way she can’t hold still when she feels his forked tongue licking at her

-What happened to heavy huh?

-Sure feels like she’s trying to fuck his face, which good

-She shouldn’t be afraid to take what she wants especially when it’s already hers

-And between all the sex they just kinda bond and get to know each other

-Interest and what they want out of life and it was only natural that so much time together lead to more

-Turned into him missing her the moment he couldn’t easily pick up her scent and her wanting to turn around and run back to him and never leave again

-Then his mating season swings around and he finally brings her to his cave where he’s taken the soft things he owns and made a comfortable nest

-“I want you to stay with me (Yn), want to make you a mother so-” “You don’t have to explain, I’d love to stay. I want to Katsuki so please, breed me”

-Ironically it’s the most tender sex they’ve ever had together

-At least until he gave into his desperate need to breed her that is

[songbirdstyles]

i’m on fire

summary: harry can’t keep his hands to himself after getting home from filming.

warnings: breeding kink, spanking, smut, slight fluff, pregnancy mention, slight dom/sub

word count: 2.7k

song inspo.: i’m on fire - bruce springsteen, girls on film - duran duran, tango in the night - fleetwood mac

You’ve hardly glanced in Harry’s eyes as he walks into the foyer of your London apartment before you feel your back slam into the door behind you - your head thumps against the wood and a groan threatens to rip out of your throat but he steals it before you get the chance to make the noise, lips on yours and tongue stuck down your throat.

Your hands have nowhere else to go but to bury themselves in his hair, fingers curling around chocolate brown curls and tugging until you hear the soft hitch in his breath that indicates just how much your grasp affected him. And, God, it did affect him, clearly, as he pushes his hips further against yours until you can feel the thick bulge in his pelvis grinding against the softness of your inner thigh as you hike your leg up to hoist around his waist. He moves one arm from where he had been grasping your throat as if to steady him to the present and his free hand grasps the underside of your thigh, pulling it further up his abdomen until the stretch in your muscle makes you whine.

“Jesus fuck, Har -”

He shuts you up from whatever you were going to mutter as he deepens the kiss, teeth tugging at your bottom lip as his knee grinds into your cunt until you’re crying out, goosebumps overtaking every square inch of your skin even through the thick sweatshirt adorning your upper half. You hadn’t had much of anything valuable to say, anyway, but it’s the principle of his interruption that makes you grasp for his cheeks and pull his face from yours with a heaving gasp.

“What’s gotten into you, hmm?”

You’d almost be concerned about Harry’s state if you couldn’t feel him rutting his cock against your thigh - his face is red and hot, eyes half lidded and breaths panting and desperate with each sharp inhale of oxygen. Christ, he looks a sight in the best way possible, and your instinct is to snap your thighs shut at the feeling that rushes through your body when he leans in, pressing soft lips to the sweaty skin of your throat so it muffles his response. His hands find the hem of your sweatshirt (or his sweatshirt, really) and you have half a mind to raise your arms so he can pull his lips from your neck to tug the cloth off of your torso before he finds a vein in your throat with a newfound vigor, sliding his other hand up to grope at your bare tit like a teenage boy whose only just seen one for the first time.

“Jus’ wanna love on you, hmm - wanna love on m’girl, please -”

“Hmm -”

He grunts, then. Nips at a vein in your neck that pulsates beneath his lapping tongue and you can’t help but giggle, however childlike and naive the noise sounds, but it’s enough for him to drop your thigh from around your waist - grab your cheeks and spin you around, pushing you backwards and backwards until your feet hardly feel like they’re moving, like you’re floating through the entryway of your apartment until you reach the kitchen. Though Harry loves fucking you every which way in your bed, huge and comfortable and soft, there’s something primal about pushing you against the kitchen table and ripping down your flannel sweatpants and burying himself into your heat that you know he secretly prefers over the sacred oasis of your bedroom.

Your lower back hits the edge of the island but it doesn’t stay there long before he turns you around, pushing the front of your body against the island until your body has folded in half to bend over the slab of marble, cold against your bare tits and stomach. Your boyfriend reaches around to the front of your sweatpants, then, arms wrapped around your thighs to shakily untie the knot that you had carefully tied in the strings of your pajama pants - his chest rises and falls against your back, hips still pushing into yours over and over and you jut your ass out to meet the grind of his cock against the clothed globes of your ass.

“Tied this thing fuckin’ tight, didn’t you?”

“Didn’t think you’d try to rip them off like an animal,” you retort, lifting your hips from where they’re firmly pressed to the edge of the island once Harry has successfully untied the knot, tugging your pants down the slope of your ass until they unceremoniously drop to a puddle at your feet, and you impatiently kick them off as Harry snaps the waistband of your panties just to hear you squeal. “Come on, Har - know you’re impatient -”

“Mmm.”

His finger slide beneath your panties, knuckle dragging through your slit that’s positively dripping with your slick, and you hear his low moan at how ready you are for him but the truth is you’ve been fucking dripping since he sent you a selfie of him in his makeup chair on set two days prior, hair messy and eyebrow arched, and it hadn’t even been a serious selfie but it still made your clit throb when you saw it. He’d been gone for nearly two weeks for filming when you’d gone a full year of almost never being apart and, fuck. Seeing him like that did things to you.

Harry’s yours, god fucking dammit. The thought makes you spread your thighs more for him as he dips his finger into your waiting hole, curling them up once just to watch how your back arches, how you moan as though you’d been coded to do so. It’s a game he likes to play, testing you, seeing just how needy you are for him even if all he wants to do is bury himself inside of you and fuck you until tears streak your cheeks and you’re begging him to cum.

No - no, he does want that, you know that. Wants it so bad it makes his knees weak, makes his stomach flip and turn, but he wants to watch you fall apart more than anything. Needs to know you want this just as much as he does, if not more, and if he were truly dedicated tonight he’d finger you until you came at least twice.

Neither of you can wait for that.

“Jesus fuck,” he breathes, voice raspy and full of sex and wanting and you could nearly sob as you feel him finally start to tug them hem of his joggers and boxers over his cock. “Gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

But - but -

“Wait.”

He pauses. The head of his cock pokes at your ass in a way that would be funny if the revelation you’d just been hit with hadn’t hit you yet but it has, and you turn your head to press your cheek against the marble.

“Wha’?”

“I got my birth control thing out yesterday, the one in my arm. Remember - I told you I have to get it replaced. M’getting it tomorrow.”

There’s a pause in the kitchen, then, that hangs heavy over the both of you as you hear Harry’s shaky breathing behind you. And then -

“Did you just get harder?”

Harry exhales and even without seeing him you can picture the smile on his face as he presses his hips further into yours - “M’sorry - s’hot, babe.”

“Me not being on birth control is hot?”

“Yes,” and as if for extra reassurance of just what he means, Harry pushes his cock between your thighs until it’s slotted in your slit, head nudging your clit and making your legs quiver and shake as the stimulation rolls over you, eyes rolling back and head feeling fuzzy. “Makes me wanna fuck you so bad.”

There’s a quick consideration, you suppose - of the possibility of getting pregnant and the fact that you know there’s probably not even a single condom in your apartment for him to quickly put on, and even if there was the moment would die - and, come on, you’ve been together for almost 4 years and you’ve talked about kids in passing. If it happens it happens - that’s been your philosophy on it with him.

If it happens, it happens.

And it wouldn’t be the worst thing. Harry loves kids and you love kids and more than that, you love each other like the world depends on it - could never picture yourself living life without him at this point, and more than that, there is something hot about imagining him fucking you completely raw.

“Fuck, Har,” you moan, feeling your clit spasm as you grasp the edge of the counter. “I don’t care. Fuck me, pl -”

The final word doesn’t make it out of your mouth before Harry’s slamming himself inside of you and there’s no slow or sweet - it’s raw and unfiltered, giving you half a moment to adjust to his size after two full weeks without his cock, and it’s huge, feels like it’s splitting you open, like you’re back to the first time he’d ever fucked you and you’d had the fleeting question of whether it would even fit. It did fit, though, over and over and over, and yet the first stroke always makes you gasp.

Or scream.

“Oh, shit!” your resounding moan is shrill and punctuated by your legs just about giving up, knees collapsing until the only thing holding you up is Harry’s cock slamming into your cunt over and over, his nails digging into your bare shoulder blade before scratching up to tug at your hair. Forms it into a loose ponytail to tug at your hair like a damn whip, forcing your lazed face off of the marble until you’re staring into the darkened kitchen before you with blurry, watering eyes and a cunt that already feels fucked sore from just a few thrusts.

“Oh - god,” and Harry’s voice shakes and leaks with arousal, breath picking up as he pistons into you, cock stroking spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed before him, before he had fucked you slow and sweet and made you oh so aware of every sweet spot your cunt was filled with. God, he’s good at it, at a fast unforgiving pace that makes your head spin and your throat go raw with sobs, and you slam your palm against the island with a moan. “So fuckin’ tight f’me - made for me, right?”

You don’t respond, words feeling snatched from your tongue with every stroke of his dick into your pussy, milking every drop of arousal for all that it’s worth.

“This - this fuckin’ pussy - s’mine, isn’t it?” And when his seemingly rhetorical question goes unanswered there’s a sharp slap to the bottom of your ass that makes you shout, throat aching with the noise. “Whose fuckin’ pussy -”

“Yours!” It’s a near shriek that’s fucked out of you, and there’s another slap to your ass as you babble, “yours, Harry, yours - belongs to you -”

“Sure fuckin’ does,” and then he pulls out and you want to shout, to slam your head into the island because surely there’s nothing worse than the emptiness that fills you in the worst way possible, but just as you begin to whimper Harry is gripping your thigh, grasp tight enough that you’ll surely see bruises come morning, and he hikes your leg up over the edge of the island, exposing your near-abused pussy to him fully.

The tip of his cock runs along your slit, spreading your slickness around your folds and before you can plead with him to stop teasing he pushes back in, cock drawing along your velvet walls and eliciting a raspy moan that feels nearly involuntary at this point. His grasp on your hair is released and you nearly drop your head onto the island in surprise but then he’s leaning down, clothed chest pressed to your sweaty back, and his forearms snake beneath your neck until he’s nearly caging your neck in his arms, lips pressed to the back of your neck.

His hips pound against your ass, the sound of skin slapping skin nearly overpowering your choked moans and yet it doesn’t quite manage to - you’re sure your downstairs neighbors must think you’re being murdered with the volume of your sobs, or perhaps they’re used to hearing you get fucked within an inch of your life just about every night. Harry going away for filming surely must have been their own vacation from being awoken every night to yours and his pathetic moans mingled together -

But their vacation is over, goddammit.

“Harry, I’m gonna - I’m gonna cum,” you gasp, voice staccato and quiet, and his lips close around the back of your neck until you can feel him suckling at the skin, desperate to watch your skin erupt in hickeys from his work. “Please don’t - don’t stop -”

“Never gonna stop, baby,” is your boyfriend’s response, nearly cruel with how nonchalant he sounds, and his pace picks up where he’s sliding in and out of you with squelching wet sounds. “Cum for me - cum f’me and m’gonna blow it, baby, blow m’fuckin’ load into your cunt -”

You whimper, making a halfhearted attempt to reach behind you and wind your arm around Harry’s neck but you can’t muster up enough strength, feeling the orgasm building in your abdomen build and build like a rubber band about to snap. It’s a feeling that’s all too familiar when you’re with him, like you’re always one stolen smirk away from straddling him in front of everyone and having your way with him -

“M’gonna cum in you, baby,” Harry whispers, voice low and hot against your ear, words being shot directly into your eardrum and sending a chill up your spine that has nothing to do with the chilled temperature of the kitchen. “Gonna knock you up, right? S’what you want?”

“Yes - yes -”

“Y’want me to fill you with my cum, hmm? Get you fuckin’ pregnant? All round w’my fuckin’ kid, fill you ‘till you’re dripping -”

“Oh, God, Harry!”

“Cum on m’fucking cock. Wanna feel y’cum around me ‘fore I blow it, sweetie -” It’s all the encouragement you need, a moan mixed with a sob tearing out of your throat as you throw your head back, body nearly convulsing as your orgasm racks through you like a tsunami on shore - and it’s everything, like he’s set you aflame and left you to deal with the inferno, and not for the first time you think about how you’re fucking made for him, for this, cumming harder than you’ve ever cum in your life, the rubbr band snapping and sending waves of pleasure through you -

“Fuck!”

Your orgasm hasn’t even come close to ending when Harry’s hips slam firm against yours, pressed taut against your ass and you feel him, feel every curve and vein of his cock against your walls and your mind goes blank as he cums, warm spurts filling you every which way and it only makes it better when he moves one of his arms from beneath your neck, snaking his hand underneath your body so he can shakily rub three fingers against your clit, milking your orgasm for all that it’s worth. You clamp down on him, every sensation too much and yet not enough in the best way possible, and you swear you see nothing but stars.

There’s a beat of silence, filled only with your heaving breaths and his soft gasps for air mixing with each other in the thick, suddenly humid air of the kitchen. Harry’s chest is sweaty against your back even through his shirt, lips still pressing warm, wet kisses to the back of your neck just underneath your hairline.

“Fuck,” you breathe, soreness already settling in your throat as you swallow, somewhat regretting your vehement moans and cries and shouts but somehow not at all - “Should probably go shower.”

“Not yet.” “Not yet -?”

“Stay here for a few minutes,” your boyfriend murmurs against your damp, sweaty skin, tongue poking out to lick a thin stripe from your collarbone up to the side of your throat, lips pressing just underneath your ear. “Gotta make sure it works. Gotta make sure you’re not leaving this fuckin’ kitchen without m’fuckin’ kid inside you, baby.”

~~

TAGLIST 

@hoeeforstyles @pcterparxer @hhh33-3l @saintsmotels @ficrecrry @bunny-munchkin-luvs-music @masumiyetimziyanoldu @luxplsr @strawberryystyles @shawnxstyles @harryslilkat @harryhub @golden-hoax @repostcentral @harry-styles-l​ @mintchipstyles​ @fallinforstyles  @zhangyixingxing1​ @goldenxstyles7​ @tobefalling​ @hslotcherry​ @alwaysclassyeagle​ @galacticferns @nineteenfiftyone​ @havethetimeeofyourlifee​ @sstarkme​ @stylesfics-xx​ @thecitiesintheseas @harrypinks​ @morethanamelodyy @lovesickrry​ @prettymuchxarreaga 

[cartoonsaint]

800 words, contains swearing and mention of benrey's canonical foot fetish, based off of this post (which happens to be deep in my queue rn). this will hopefully become something longer but we'll see!

Sunkist reaches the emergency meeting button before Benrey's kill cooldown is up. Under the sound of the blaring alarm he hears Gordon in the other room shout, "God, DAMMIT," but by the time everyone's audio kicks in he's composed himself well enough to sound almost convincing when he says, "What, what? Who called the meeting, it's barely been a minute, what happened?"

Benrey exhales through his nose, lips pursed. Not bad, but it's not gonna be enough.

"Grrrawf," Sunkist says, sniffing wetly at her mic for a solid five seconds, and reverse-sneezes twice.

fuuuck, Benrey thinks, watching her cast her vote and Tommy immediately follow. Feetman's screwed. Time to jump ship.

"W-wait, what?" Gordon says, voice way too high to be believable. "What'd she say, I, can someone translate—"

"i saw him too," Benrey says. "in electrical. feetman vented— me n' sunkist saw."

Gordon makes a strangled noise, and the sound of a socked foot kicking the wall between them echoes through reality and Benrey's headphones. He bites his lip to keep his growing smirk from somehow becoming audible.

"Really, Benrey? Did you really?" Oh, man, he's pissed. "Are you— are you sure that's what you saw? Benrey? Because I, I wasn't anywhere near there, so—"

"yyyup," Benrey says, casting his vote. "had to bodyguard sunkist all the way to the button, you were, uhhh—" He considers his words as Gordon laughs in disbelief. "chasin' us with a biiig knife."

"No, no, that— there could be an impostor!! And, also, what you said doesn't even make fucking sense, Benrey, because the game doesn't even—"

"There's two impostors, dumbass, that's how the game works," Bubby says. "I'm voting for you just for that."

"NO, I meant— the fucking, the Shapeshifter, they could have—"

"Well if the... person... they saw, wasn't… you, Mr. Freeman," Tommy's dad interrupts, "then where. Were. You?"

"I— I dunno, some hallway," Gordon says. "You guys are all jumping down my throat, how am I supposed to remember when I can't even catch my breath—"

"Iiii dunno," Darnold hums. "I was on cameras the whole time and I haven't seen you in any of 'em. Also, have we noticed that Forzen's dead?"

Benrey grins, imagining that twerp whining uselessly into his mic as a ghost. Benrey'd merc'd him in the cockpit. He hopes seeing Benrey pass as a crewmate now is eating him up.

"I'm the Scientist, it happened almost immediately," Bubby offers.

"Hmm!" Coomer says. "Gordon, didn't you go off with young Forcebeam early this round?"

"No! I— I mean, yes, but I didn't even—" He'd helped Benrey' corner him. Benrey'd smacked a kiss to his mic as Gordon vented away afterwards; he'd never loved the man more.

Oh well. Priorities change; shouldn't have gotten caught so early. Benrey picks at the scratched edge of his game cartridge as votes are cast and Gordon fumbles.

"It— guys, how do we even know they were telling the truth in the first place?? Both of them could be in on it, together, partners! There's two impostors, right? I bet it was Benrey who got Forzen, we all saw him go that same direction, right, and he and Sunkist could be—"

"Mr. Freeman!" Tommy sounds scandalized, hurt. Benrey bites his lip and pinches his nose shut so he doesn't laugh and spoil the whole thing. "Are you suggesting Sunkist would lie? :("

"I— Tommy, she was literally impostor the LAST ROUND. She killed you. She's been lying this whole game—"

Sunkist chuffs into her mic; the G-Man hums. "I'm afraid I… agree, Mr. Freeman." A checkmark appears next to his name as Gordon groans.

"Nooo, no, I— listen, okay, I, I didn't want to say earlier, but I'm actually the Engineer—"

"Nope!" Coomer casts his vote.

"FUCK," Gordon says, kicking at the wall between them again. Benrey hopes he's not hurting his toes too bad, though he supposes if he is then maybe Benrey'll have to help tend to them later… Maybe if he's good Gordon'll even let him try out the new nail polish he got. It's gonna really pop against Gordon's skin tone. "Did you all already vote for me? God, dammit, you guys, it— I DIDN'T EVEN KILL FORZEN, IT WAS BENREY."

"dude," Benrey says as Gordon casts the last vote, revealing: six beans for Gordon, one orange bean for Benrey, and a lime one for Bubby.

"Oh, Harold, how could you?"

"You claimed to be the Scientist, dearest, when I know well you're really the Professor—"

"BENREY'S THE OTHER IMPOSTOR," Gordon shouts. "WE WERE WORKING TOGETHER, VOTE THAT FUCKER OUT IMMEDIATELY, HE—"

His mic cuts off as his little orange bean falls off-screen. "FUCKER," Gordon hollers in the other room, followed by the crunch of delicate equipment. Red text pops up on Benrey's screen: Gor2inspanish has left the game.

[cah0mie]

Ok how would the brothers react when you use a mood octopus

This ↓↓↓

Like mc is not talking to the brothers instead they respond by flipping the plush inside out or something like taht

I am SO sorry this took so long. I wanted to create a scenario that wasn't so cliché, but in the end I feel like I still did 💦 I hope you still enjoy it regardless.

If you see that I could have done something better, please don't hesitate to inform me. I take all forms of constructive criticism.

To all my MCs that had the Brothers a little TOO concerned

Lucifer: Alright. We have just returned from the doctors, and it turns out MC has strep throat. So they cannot voice anything for at least two weeks.

Satan: Then we should probably get them something to help communicate. Like a notebook, or a dry erase board.

Asmo: Hold on! I have a better idea!! *Runs to his room*

Belphie: Anyone else feeling a bit anxious. ASMO, has an IDEA.

Mammon: Yeah, I'm not trusting this.

Asmo: *runs back holding a doll of some sort* This here is a mood octopus! One side has a happy face! But when you flip it, it has an angry face! We can just ask MC yes or no questions! Keep it simple.

Satan: I still think a dry erase board is much easier, but It's really up to you MC. You being the one having to use one of these.

MC: ..... *Takes the mood octopus* (It's cute)

Lucifer: Alright then, it's decided. Remember, don't make MC do anything vocal. It will only make them worse. MC, I would also like you to watch what you eat in the future. You can't have anything that's too strenuous on your throat. Understood?

MC: .... *Happy octo*

Lucifer: Good, you're all excused.

-next morning, during breakfast-

MC: *getting favorite cereal*

Satan: *snatches bowl immediately* I don't think so. These chunks will scratch your throat up more. You need to have something that will go down easier.

MC: ..... *Mad octo*

Satan: Be mad all you want, you still won't have it. I'll make you some of the creamy human food. I believe it's called Cream of Wheat.

MC: *repeatedly beats mad octo on counter* (I want my damn cereal! Beel is going to eat it!!)

-afternoon-

Mammon: Alright, I'm going out!

Lucifer: Be back by dinner! I don't get into trouble!

Mammon: Wha-!? Of course I wouldn't get in trouble!

MC: *rushes to meet him at the door ready to tag along*

Mammon: uuhhhh... MC, I think you should stay here. You're sick remember? And who knows who will try to talk to you while we're out. And you being.....you, you'll be afraid that they will see you as rude and try to reply.

MC: ..... *Mad octo* (I won't talk to anyone! I just want some fresh air!)

Lucifer: I never thought I'd say this, but Mammon is right....... I REALLY thought I'd never say that.

Mammon: What the hell!?

Lucifer: You should stay here and rest, we can't afford you going out and getting worse.

MC: *swinging around mad octo* (Dammit! I'm getting cooped up!)

Lucifer: I don't care how upset you get, you're not going out. END OF STORY.

MC: ..... *Walks away to room*

-dinner time-

-While the lot share a whole roasted havoc devil, you are stuck with tomato soup-

MC: .........

Beel: Guys, I feel kinda bad. This is their favorite.

Lucifer: Just ignore them Beel, they're trying to guilt you into giving them some.

Satan: MC, this is for your own good and you know it. That soup will help you.

Belphie: If it helps at all the meat is kinda dry, so it's not that great.....

Lucifer: We probably would've gotten better quality if someone hadn't decided to steal the food money and spend it on themselves.

Mammon: *nervously sweating* Ha ha... What a scumbag that guy must be.

Lucifer: INDEED.

MC: ........ *Sets down mad octo as they slowly eat* (all I wanted was a bite...)

-later that night in their room-

Levi: Hey! We can always play video games! That always cheers you up!

Asmo: Don't they get pretty loud and aggressive when they play with you though?

Levi:..... Yeah that's true, they are a bit competitive.

Mammon: Then how about some gambling?! That always helps me when I'm down!

Belphie: That has never helped you. AT ALL.

Beel: ..... MC, are you ok?

MC: ........ *Angry octo*

Asmo: Of course you're not. That strep throat must be doing a number on you huh?

MC: (NO!! You all are fucking smothering me!!! I'm going insane!!)

Beel: In that case, we have to support them! Keep them company! Right?

Belphie: *nods* Yup.

Asmo: Of course!

Levi: I brought some movies to watch instead!

Mammon: I guess I got some time to spare for the human...

MC: ......(Guys ....I love you....but can I be alone for FIVE MINUTES!?!)

-Next morning-

Lucifer: That plushie seems to be doing a good job.

MC: (No it's not!)

Lucifer: Make sure you don't lose it, cause what you did yesterday is going to repeat for the next two weeks. *Leaves*

MC: ....... *Bangs head against the wall repeatedly* ..... (I HATE THEM..... I love them! But I hate them!)

-two weeks go by-

Lucifer: Alright MC. After two weeks if keeping silent, how are you feeling?

MC: ....... *Happy octo*

Mammon: Uuhhhh MC, you know you can talk now right?

MC: ...... *Makes the octo nod*

Mammon: Then why.....?

Beel: Is their throat still hurting??

Belphie: It should be fine now though right?

Asmo: Satan, do your detective instincts tell you anything?

Satan: .... I can't help but feel like they're holding a grudge against us for trying to take care of them these past two weeks and are now giving us the silent treatment.

Mammon: But what did we do wrong!?

Lucifer: MC, care to answer?

MC: ...... *Angry octo*

Lucifer: *sighs* Looks like we're not done with the octopus just yet...

-----

Again, SO sorry how long this took. I loved the idea SO much that I wanted to come up with an equally good idea, but unfortunately this was the best that I could come up with not wanting to make you wait any longer.

I hope you all enjoyed regardless, please inform how it could've been better - cause I know it could've been