#i want a man who will tenderly clean my wounds

[cowboy-caboodles]

get yourself a man who will clean your wounds after you get caught in another street fight with the Delancey brothers!!!!

rest of the comic here (ignore me misspelling Delancey)

[crystallinestars]

Taking Care of Them

Short scenarios about Argenti, Aventurine, and Jing Yuan receiving much-needed care and comfort from you. Pure fluff, a little hurt/comfort for Aventurine's part.

I took some creative liberties with Aventurine's character since we still don't know everything about him yet, so this is simply my interpretation of him.

This isn't proofread because my brain is fried from writing.

--------------------

🌹 Argenti:

As a Knight of Beauty, Argenti is a highly skilled fighter who puts his very life on the line to vanquish his foes. Usually, he defeats his enemies with grace and style, but even the refined Argenti sometimes sustains injuries.

In his most recent battle, Argenti made it out practically unscathed, save for a few scrapes and bruises that marred his handsome face. That was how he found himself obediently sitting on your bed while you treated his wounds.

“I apologize that you have to see me in this state,” he murmurs, guilt darkening his expression. “I did not want to cause you worry.”

“No need to apologize,” you brush off his concerns with a smile. “Now turn this way. I’ll clean the scratch on your cheek,” you said as you gently turn Argenti’s face to one side to reveal the shallow, red gash on his cheek.

Argenti complies without hesitance and sits perfectly still as you dab at the scratch with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. It stings, but the Knight of Beauty unflinchingly tolerates the burn with a small smile on his face.

He can tell through the delicate and careful way you clean and dress his wounds that you care a great deal about him. Your touches were gentle so as to not cause him unnecessary pain, yet no less thorough. It felt nice to be touched so tenderly, to be cared for in such a loving manner.

Your heart is beautiful, he thinks. To possess such a caring and loving heart, you must rival the beauty of his beloved Aeon Idrila. Argenti truly believes that you are a wonderful and beautiful person, both inside and out.

As you finish patching up the last wound and pack away your first aid kit, Argenti turns to you and gives you a radiant, sincere smile from the heart.

“Thank you…” he softly says as gently takes one of your hands and kisses the back of it, “You have a dazzling heart—so pure and gentle. I feel like the luckiest man in the universe to have the privilege of receiving your care and affection.”

His words may sound over-the-top and perhaps even fake, but he truly means them. Every single one. Even if you don’t entirely believe him, the amused smile that his flamboyant phrases elicit out of you is all the reason he needs to keep them up.

“You’re welcome. Just try to be more careful next time. I’ll love you no matter how you look, but I hate seeing you hurt,” you murmur in reply and lean in to kiss the band-aid on his cheek.

“There. A kiss to make it all better,” you giggle as you pull away.

The little gesture catches Argenti by surprise, but he can’t say he didn’t like it. In fact, he enjoyed it more than he ever thought he would.

With a small chuckle, he pulls you close to kiss you fully on the lips. If you don’t take his word for it that he feels incredibly lucky to have your love, then perhaps his actions will convey the sincerity of his feelings for you.

🦚 Aventurine:

All his life, Aventurine has faced hate. Hate for being Sigonian, hate for being a dog of the IPC, hate for acting exactly the way that’s expected of his kind. He played into people’s perceptions of him. Why waste time trying to correct their views when they won’t change? It’s easier to just act according to their expectations and hide who he really is behind this playful and sly mask.

Only with you does he let his carefully crafted façade crumble to reveal his vulnerable self.

Aventurine is very good at acting like everything is fine when the world is against him. Perhaps to an extent, he truly believes that life is all about fighting battles on his lonesome. He can use others and get used as a tool in return, but the only one he can trust is himself. It’s the only life he’s ever known.

However, you’ve known him long enough to tell that the hate and isolation get to him, no matter how much he pretends that they don’t. When he comes home one night after a particularly awful day, it doesn’t take long for you to figure out that he feels down.

Aventurine smiled and teased you like usual, but he spoke less and clung to you more than usual. He hugged you from behind and kept an arm around you no matter what you were trying to do, almost as if he was seeking comfort from your physical presence.

Turning to face him, you glance into his tired eyes.

“What is it, darling? See something you like?” he teased, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smirk.

“Hmm, no,” you hummed. Extending your arms forward, you wrapped them around Aventurine and slowly pulled him into a hug. “I don’t see something I like.”

Aventurine is momentarily stunned by your unprompted action, but he quickly recovers.

“Oh? How come? Am I not appealing enough for you?” he quipped, resting his chin on your shoulder and returning your hug. Unlike your tight hug, his arms wrapped around you in a loose hold, as if he was uncertain how to go about it.

“Quite the opposite,” you softly chuckle, “I don’t see something I like, but I do see someone I love,” you whisper and turn your head to look directly at Aventurine’s face.

A beat of silence passes as Aventurine processes your words, before bursting out laughing.

“That was painfully corny, even for you!” he chuckled.

You scoff but don’t say anything in response, simply continuing to hug him tightly. Slowly, carefully, you card your fingers through his blond hair before moving lower to stroke your palm along his spine in soothing circles.

Aventurine’s laughter dies down, his initial mirth now replaced with something fragile and vulnerable as he falls quiet. He won’t ever share what burdens him, but you don’t need to know the details to provide him comfort. If he doesn’t want to tell you, then you won’t pry. At the very least, you’ll do all you can to support him and remind him that he’s not alone.

Being wrapped up in your warm embrace, feeling your gentle caresses—it all felt unfamiliar to Aventurine. It’s been so long since he felt the tender and loving affection of another person. It took a while, but eventually he relaxed and allowed himself to lean into your body, burying his nose into the crook of your neck.

Silence lingered in the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. There was something soothing in not having to talk. It was freeing to not worry about pretending to be okay or be pressured to talk about the things that trouble him.

That hug—that simple act of human affection—made him feel safe and protected in your arms. When you leaned back slightly to plant a tender kiss on Aventurine’s forehead, something inside him snapped and he had to hold back tears. Burying his face deeper into the crook of your neck, he clung tightly to you while you continued to rub slow circles along his back.

“It’s okay. It’ll all be okay, I’m here. You’re not alone…” you whisper, hugging him tighter.

Being wrapped up in your warm hug, feeling your affectionate kisses and gentle words is something Aventurine never knew he needed until now. Just for this moment, he lets his walls come down and bares his wounded self to you with the hope that you can soothe his pain if only a little.

And you do. With whispered reassurances and loving caresses, you ease his hurt, even if just temporarily. He is safe, you promise. He will always be safe in your arms.

🦁 Jing Yuan:

Jing Yuan is notorious for disliking the abundance of paperwork and other leadership tasks he has to take care of on a day-to-day basis as a General of the Xianzhou Luofu. Despite his woeful sighs about how tedious it is, and how the work never seems to end, Jing Yuan still accomplishes all his duties in a timely and precise fashion.

Jing Yuan is a hard worker, you are well aware of that. Which is why when he snuck out of the Seat of Divine Foresight to come spend some free time with you, you offered him to rest on your lap. And who was he to turn down such a tempting opportunity?

Sitting outside on the veranda with Jing Yuan’s head resting on your lap, you softly ran your fingers through his fluffy, white hair, marveling at how silky it was. It was as soft as it looked.

“I could get used to this,” Jing Yuan said with a sigh, relaxing into our touch. His golden eyes were closed as he enjoyed the sensations of your fingers combing through his hair, gently massaging his scalp and soothing any tension he felt.

Chuckling, you looked down at him, mirth dancing in your eyes.

“Really? I wouldn’t mind having you as my lap cat like this more often. Why not come see me every day and get pets?” you tease him as you lightly poke his cheek.

Jing Yuan cracks open one eye to give you an amused look.

“Being your lap cat sounds like a wonderful idea,” he sighs, “Laying on your lap and getting pampered sounds like my ideal life.”

Both of you burst out laughing at the ridiculous notion of Jing Yuan being a lap cat, your spirits lifting as the mood brightened even more.

“Ah, but if you ever want to take a break and relax, you’re always welcome to see me,” you say in a softer voice this time, resuming running your fingers through his tresses.

“I’ll keep your invitation in mind,” he replied, his voice dropping an octave as he relaxed into your touch once more.

The minutes pass in a comfortable and serene atmosphere, with you pampering Jing Yuan with affectionate caresses, meanwhile, the man listens to you talk about your day. You both knew that after this he would have to go back and complete the mountain of work waiting for him, but for now, you were content to spend this little bit of time with your beloved.

Under the warm sun and gentle breeze, with his head resting comfortably on your lap, Jing Yuan felt himself growing drowsy. His eyelids became heavier, and his body didn’t want to move from his position on your lap.

Noticing the General grow sleepy, you fought the urge to tease him. If you pointed out his sleepiness, he would most likely apologize and put a stop to this tranquil moment by getting up and heading back to work. He already saw you less than either of you wanted, simply because work kept him busy. Moments like these were a luxury.

Keeping quiet, you gently massage his scalp until his breaths even out and become deeper, seeming to have fallen asleep. His expression looked so serene and vulnerable, something that very few people have had the chance to witness. As his lover, you were privy to this sight more than most. You watch over him with a small smile on your face, gently tucking away a stray strand of his hair.

Thinking he was asleep, you lean down to press a lingering kiss to his forehead, but as you straighten, you notice Jing Yuan peering up at you with an amused glint in his eyes.

Growing flustered, you quickly look away, feeling your cheeks heat up with a blush.

Jing Yuan only laughs in response, but his laughter quickly turns into a contented purr as you shut him up with another head massage. Whatever teasing remark he had prepared, immediately died on his tongue as relaxation washed over him and he felt sleep take hold of his mind again.

“It’s ok, take a nap. I’ll wake you up in a few minutes,” you murmur, willing Jing Yuan to finally get some rest. You could tell he wanted to protest, but with a light brush of your thumbs over his temples, he released a sigh of defeat and conceded.

“You certainly know how to take advantage of my weaknesses,” he chuckled, voice a little hoarse from drowsiness.

Despite his initial reluctance, Jing Yuan fell asleep fairly quickly. The continuous days of endless work had left him exhausted, but your tender pampering and sweet company were just the respite he needed.

“Sleep tight,” you whisper, gracing him with another sweet kiss on his forehead.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #33

MC: Eating chips with chopsticks is unironically Galaxy brain. Your fingers don’t get greasy and it lasts longer

Solomon: Fork

MC: Oh yeah I’m going to stab my crunchy foods and make them fall apart like an absolute absent minded dunce fool, clown, jester, like a monstrous moron, an idiot of Shakespearean proportions, a cretin

Diavolo: Uhm, you seem to forget that chips can also mean fries? And that’s probably what they were talking about haha

MC: I did not forget anything. I purposefully ignore the idea of using British vocabulary to do my part in helping it die out

•

Belphegor: An alarm clock except it’s set to every time

Leviathan: We touch

Solomon: I get

Diavolo: This feeling

•

Beelzebub: I was talking with my brothers yesterday and we decided the best way to own a guy who takes off his shirt to fight you is to pick his shirt up and put it on

Mammon: That might be one of the ultimate power moves

Simeon: Or pick it up and say “lift your arms up” and try to put it back on him

•

Leviathan: By day I appear to be no more than just an average run of the mill office worker, but when night time strikes! I’m crying alone in my bed

•

Solomon: I bought my friend an elephant for their room

They said “thank you”

I said “don’t mention it”

Mammon: Is there a joke here that everyone gets but I don’t?

Belphegor: Nobody tell them

•

Thirteen:

Them: why are you competing in our cooking show today?

Me: the government banned gladiatorial matches yet I yearn for glory in the arena

Solomon: I’m here to tell you gladiator matches are still a thing, pal

Thirteen: Hm. Interesting. The last time I tried to behead a man for prestige and the right to majesty, I was dragged out of the alleyway by three very unreasonable men of the law and I would like to know where you live

•

Diavolo: What do you call a snobbish criminal going down the stairs?

Lucifer: I don’t know. What?

Diavolo: A condescending con descending

Lucifer: Get out

MC: That was beautiful

•

Leviathan: Bitten by a radioactive cicada. Now all I do is sit in a tree and scream all day

•

Solomon: Self-care is slathering yourself in baby oil and sliding down the 7th lane in your local bowling alley so the mechanical pin setter will pick you up and take you to the forbidden place behind the bowling lanes where you can meet God but only on Tuesdays

•

Mammon: Security called me at work today and told me they saw me outside chasing a frog around on the security cameras. I wasn’t in trouble they just wanted to let me know they saw me, I didn’t catch him

•

Leviathan: Me wearing a blanket as a cloak, stirring my man’n’cheese in a dimly lit room: potion

•

Satan: When I say I’m “feral” it doesn’t always mean I’m angry, maybe I’m stupid and if you give me food you’ll earn my trust and I’ll follow you around

•

Asmodeus: Covered in blood for sexy reasons

Asmodeus: Also I just got stabbed

Asmodeus: Don’t suppose there’s anyone here willing to tenderly clean, stitch and bandage my wounds while calling me an idiot in an exasperatedly fond tone of voice is there?

•

Diavolo: Introducing a new alignment— chaotic lawful. I have a strict moral code but nobody can figure out what the hell it is

•

Mammon: My best feature is that I’m blindingly intelligent for about 30 seconds a day

Mammon: I do not get to choose which seconds, they are not consecutive

•

Satan: Okay I’m normal now I promise. Let me out of the case please

•

Leviathan: Power move: calling someone a coward in the middle of a fight while also running away from them as fast as you possibly can

Lucifer: Mammon ghost wrote this

Mammon: YO

•

Leviathan: “Are you a boy or a girl?”

I am the physical embodiment of suffering

[conretewings]

A Good Name 🌟

-Set some months after the trio's conversation that night at the bar, the guys get a visit from their friend..and new companion. My heart is broken and I need some fluffy healing okay I really wanted to write a thing with Vander meeting baby Vi sue me.

A light rapping at the door makes Vander look up and Silco glance over his shoulder. They weren't open, and unexpected knocks usually came with some sort of headache or trouble.

They catch each other's gaze in a silent question of if they should answer, and whom if so. Silco's pen hovers above the ledger in front of him, brow raised a measure, his glass-green eyes sharp and steady. They dart towards the sound before meeting Vander's again, his head tilting slightly. Vander nods and reflexively rolls his shoulders, stepping around the table he was cleaning and takes a couple steps forward when there's a second knock-only this time it comes in a very distinctive, two-three-two pattern and both men are instantly fully alert.

Vander makes it to the door in a few hurried strides, undoing the locks and throwing it open to have two people dart inside. Closing it again he whirls and steps toward them, Silco also approaching now.

"Felicia, Connol!" he huffs, irate and concerned all at once, "We haven't heard from you in over a week! We were starting to think-"

She whips a hand forward and presses a finger to his lips, "Shhhhh...she's dozing-oh, not anymore."

It's then a small, thin cry is heard, the sound suddenly the only one in the room, and certainly not normally heard.

Vander and Silco freeze for a moment before the larger man barely finds his voice, "Is...did you..?"

Felicia rolls her eyes with a smirk, "Sorry guys. Been a little preoccupied."

Pulling aside the loose cloak she wore, she turns to reveal a wide piece of fabric wound around herself, and securely bound in the middle, cradled against her chest, was a tiny, wiggly bundle. Connol smiles broadly, weaving an arm around her shoulders, "Mates, meet our daughter."

As if knowing she was being talked about, the infant's wriggling increases and she turns her head, topped with a fluff of pinkish-red hair and gapes at the adults with brilliant, sky-blue eyes.

There's a beat of silence, save for the newborn's whimpers and soft cries, as if the reverence and significance for this moment was an unspoken agreement. Felicia tenderly brushes her fingers across her cheek and the puff of hair, a soft, peaceful smile on her face.

It's Silco who breaks the quiet with a simple, understated, "Ah...I see." still at a loss how to properly react to the situation.

"Lookit her...so small..." Vander breathes, moving closer, a lopsided grin slowly growing, "Hello there little one...lemme be the first to welcome you here though eh, it'll be a bit before you're a customer yeah?"

Connol rolls his eyes with a snort, yet Silco's face hardens just the slightest degree, "Not that I'm questioning your judgement, however is it not incredibly risky to whisk a newborn all the way here?"

"We know the best routes, and besides, this is about the safest place she could possibly be." answers Felicia.

Connol nods, "Ain't no better spot than the one that means so much to us all. It's practically our home, and we felt there'd be no better for ya to meet her."

Silco clears his throat with an understanding nod in return, a smile playing at his lips as he turns and steps back toward the bar, "Well then. I do believe congratulations are in order. How old is she?"

"Five days now," Felicia answers as she and Connol go to sit at a nearby table, readjusting the sling so she can hold her on her shoulder, "And already giving me sass!"

Vander laughs, a bright, warm laugh that bounces off the walls before he sits with them, "I don't know what you expected, bein' the result of you two!"

"Oy man what's that supposed to mean?" says Connol with feigned indignation and a smirk.

Silco joins the group then, carrying a tray with several glasses-and one deep blue tumbler. He passes a glass to each of the men, then with a little flourish and gallant bow, sets the cup in front of Felicia, who laughs and does a slight bow in return.

"A toast then. Congratulations to the new parents, to your new addition, and many hopes for the future..." says Silco proudly, raising his glass, and the others follow suit.

"Oh! Right!" Vander snaps his fingers, "So, what's her name then?"

Felicia catches his eye, a glimmer both sly and yet softened with pride in her own, "Violet, of course."

Vander freezes, mouth half open in disbelief, feeling his heart leap, having to set his glass down before he dropped it, "...What?"

"You heard me." she grins, Connol adding, "We talked about it, considered others, but we kept coming back around and decided...Violet is a good name."

Swallowing thickly, Vander takes a moment before responding, "I...don't know what to say..."

Silco shakes his head with a smile, patting the larger man's shoulder, "I think he means he's honored."

"Of course I am, just also...wow. I didn't think..." Vander laughs, much more softly, running a hand through his hair, "Violet. Yeah."

Felicia turns so the newborn is facing them, "Say hello to your uncles Vander and Silco, Violet! They look like dorks, and they can be, but I'll tell you something...there's no one who cares about us down here as much, who'll fight harder for us, who will love you more, besides me and your pa, then these two."

The baby stares at them, and Vander is surprised to feel tears pricking the corners of his eyes, "Hello, Violet...what your mum said is true. No matter what happens, we've got ya."

Noticing, Silco breaks into a mocking grin, "Oh dear dear what's this? Is the great Hound of the Underground actually crying?"

"Shut it. It's dusty in here." grumbles Vander, yet unable to hide his own grin. All laugh, then the conversation carries on...

[lizzy019]

Hi could you make a dally x bimbo fem!reader smut and she's kinda ditsy (like the character in ur reader x Darry x two-bit and maybe she was helping clean dally after a fight and he starts getting touchy (it can be a blurb or short story whichever you want) thank you💗💗

UWAAHH THIS IDEA THOO 😩 i kinda made it like- suggestive? not full on smut but you know 🤭

~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~~🌿~~~~~~~~~~ 18+ ~~~~~~~~~~~

Poor Dally!

You were so set on cleaning up the cut on his cheekbone from some ring a Soc was wearing, as well as the busted lip of his from fighting a little recklessly. All you were focused on was dabbing the peroxide to his wounds and bandaging them so tenderly for him.

"What did you get yourself into, Dal? You're hurt!" You cried, gently tilting his head so you could apply the bandaid more precisely.

Dally gave an expression of guilt, but it didn't last all that long as he hissed in pain when you dabbed at his cheekbone a bit too hard.

"Damn, the fuck are you doin'? Tryna make it hurt more?" He scolded, but stopped when you gave him such a pathetic expression.

Sad, but disappointed as well. You were upset with yourself for making his wounds hurt more than they should. Maybe you were a bit dumb, sure, but you were trying your best! Who wouldn't help the ones they loved even if they were uneducated in the subject?

"N-no.. sorry! I'm trying." You muttered quickly, doing whatever was necessary to stop the bleeding from his face.

Poor Dally was probably losing more blood from your "help" than he was when he came to you with injuries. The man couldn't just let this go on, could he? No, a man like him has to have his mind on something else every five seconds.

So as sneakily as he could, his hands found their way to the small of your waist, cupping and squeezing until he got just up underneath your tits. Silly you, too focused to even pay it any mind.

"Sweetheart, I think it's good..." Dally tried his best to distract you, easing you out of your intense focus.

Finally, your little ditzy brain recollected itself until you were looking down at him with those big thoughtless eyes, a hand gently inching its way up his forearm as you just seemed to glow. For a literal dumbass, who wouldn't look at you and stop everything in their tracks to admire your beauty?

He certainly thought you were beautiful despite your... smaller sized brain.

"What're you doing, Dal?" You asked so innocently, so cluelessly as his hands seemed to have a mind of their own.

His fingers although not as nimble as they used to be were scooping up the soft flesh of your clothed breasts, squeezing mindlessly as he looked up at you with a knowing gaze. Surely you'd get the idea, you weren't that dumb. Right..?

But sure enough, you only giggled and swatted away his hands in a flurried gesture. You were still focused on trying to apply butterfly stitches to his cuts!

"Dal! Stop distracting me, I needa fix your injuries! My poor baby can't go walking around like ground beef!" You chided playfully as you finished dabbing off the remaining dribbles of crimson from his wounds.

Ah, you really were an idiot, weren't you?

[3-2-whump]

Purpose Lost, Then Re-gained

Hey everyone,

If you need a timely distraction from spiraling into despair (like me), here is a backstory I've been holding onto for ages. Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for beta-reading this!

PS, there is a reference to a previous chapter that you'd might want to brush up on, if you're unfamiliar with it

TW/CW: blood, aftermath of murder, whump aftermath (I guess?), aftermath of (sports) injury, emotional whump (depression), feelings realization (bi panic)

Out, damned spot; out, I say. One, two, —why, then ’tis time to do’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Nico scrubbed his hands once, twice, until they were pinkish-red from the effort of cleansing rather than from the blood. Yet he could still feel his boss’ warm blood sticking his palms to the dead man’s body and staining him to his bones. Outside the thin doors of the dock’s restrooms, he could hear Julio instructing Juicio Divino on where to hang up Tom’s body.

Thomas Costa’s body.

Nico thought he was going to be sick.

The door swung open and Julio leisurely sauntered up beside him, taking the sink next to him to wash the blood off his hands. They stood there in silence with nothing but the water running between them and a tension that could be cut with a knife.

Julio glanced over at Nico’s scrubbed-raw hands, frowning a little as he turned off the water to his sink. “You good there, vato?” he asked quietly.

“You know, it’s just kinda fucked, isn’t it?” Nico began, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could make sense of them. “I literally just helped you murder a rapist, an enslaver, and an abuser, among other things. Yet, all I can think about is how that same rapist, enslaver, and abuser cured my depression and gave me a purpose to life again, and we literally just took his-”

Julio cut off his nervous babbling by placing a damp, clean hand on Nico’s. The other hand reached to turn off the sink, and then to turn Nico towards him. Forest green eyes looked down into hazel. Julio frowned, reaching gently to touch one of Nico’s many scrapes he got on his face. The guard flinched under the assassin’s tender touch. Julio withdrew his hand right away, and Nico surprised himself when he found he missed its absence already.

“We need to clean those too so they don’t get infected,” Julio murmured. He gently led Nico into a bathroom stall and prompted him to sit down on the toilet. He then exited for a bit, only to come back with a paper towel he was blotting with alcohol from his jacket flask.

“Um, actually, I don’t think booze is the best thing to sterilize wounds,” Nico tried to say.

Julio hushed him as he began gently dabbing Nico’s split brow with the paper towel. Nico gritted his teeth; that stuff stung. He inhaled a comforting scent on the next painful hiss. Julio smelled…nice… a bit like marijuana and gunpowder and musk, but nice all the same.

Julio worked his way down to the cut below Nico’s left eye, staring intensely at his face in the meantime. Nico bristled under the man’s scrutiny. He wasn’t used to being touched so tenderly, not since-

2014

He was told that the torn ligament would need surgery. That he would need to go to rehab for weeks, if not months, after the fact. That he would miss the rest of the football season.

But that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Nico Clemenza was supposed to lead St. Drogo’s to victory this season, attract the attention of university recruiters, and be offered a full-ride to Syracuse or something like that. But here he was, at the hospital, sitting between his parents, as the doctor told him his whole future had gone up in smoke.

His father had hugged him. His mother had gently wiped his tears away. That was the first (and last) time they had touched him so tenderly in a while.

-

2015

It was the second semester of his senior year, and Nico was already so sick of people asking him what his future plans were. Even his therapist asked –well, she didn’t ask, but he could sense her concern when he couldn’t come up with an answer. Half the time he just wanted to scream that he had no plan, no future, nothing, and that everything he had pinned his hopes on since he was ten years old was gone. But the most he did was noncommittally shrug and murmur a despondent “I don’t know.”

After graduation, life became a bit of a dull gray monotony. Wake up, sulk, play video games and sulk, eat when his mother insisted he come downstairs for lunch, go to therapy, come home, sulk some more until dinnertime, and then take an hour-long shower before staying up late to sulk until he fell asleep.

Nico stared vacantly at his ceiling, letting the rotation of the fan’s blade lull him into a kind of trance. On the shelves of his bedroom were pictures of his old football team, awards from the debate club, trophies from past athletic competitions–all of them remnants of a boy he used to be. He really thought he should pack them all into a box and stuff them into his closet already, but he hadn’t even had the energy for something as simple as that.

A long-haired brunette leaned over his field of vision, waving her manicured fingernails in his face to get his attention. Her eyes, which looked much like his own, stared down at him in concern. She kept waving her hand in his face. Nico finally acknowledged his sister with a grunt. She stopped waving her hand. “Jeez, you are depressed,” she said with a frown.

“Leave me alone, Jessica,” he moaned.

He was about to turn onto his side, back facing her, when a pair of firm hands with manicured nails pinned him down onto the mattress. “It’s been a whole year now,” she stressed. Nico rolled his eyes; as if he weren’t painfully aware. “Mom and dad are worried about you,” she told him. Then, a little quieter, she admitted, “I’m worried about you.”

He pushed himself up from the Nico-sized divot he made in his bed, getting into a sitting position as he stared up at his older sister. “Yeah, well, maybe once you’ve missed your shot to do the only thing you were ever good for, then you’d be depressed too,” he sniped, though his words had no heat behind them.

Jessica sat on the bed next to her brother, bringing their gazes to the same level. “Come on, you don’t mean that, do you?” she asked. When Nico didn’t answer, she continued. “I mean, you were so much more than just football captain of St. Drogo’s, Nic-Nac! Did ‘president of the debate club’ and ‘honor roll student’ mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, you don’t really get full-ride scholarships for being the smartest smart-ass in the room, do you?” he mumbled.

“But, you do get degrees,” Jessica argued.

And Nico knew she was right, and that with his grades, he could’ve applied to any university he’d like without a hitch. But, without any true sense of what he wanted to do with his life now, let alone what he’d want to study for four years, he figured it would’ve been a waste of everyone’s time and money for him to go to college without a plan. Surely his sister would’ve remember this; she tried to get him to apply to her college several months ago.

Speaking of which… “What are you even doing home this weekend?” he asked her, changing the subject. “It’s not a holiday, is it?” He was only vaguely aware that it was even October, thanks to the Halloween decorations at his therapist’s office.

Jessica shook her head. “Uncle Mike and the new boss are visiting, so Dad wanted me to come home to sell the whole ‘happy family’ image,” she explained.

“’Happy family’ image?” Nico echoed, cocking his head in confusion. As far as he was aware, their family was perfectly normal, and the only unhappy one was him.

“And you, Mr. Nic-Nac, are the unhappiest of us all and are dragging us down!” she jokingly scolded him, as if she could read his mind. She pulled him by the arm off the bed and out of his room. “Take a shower, shave your face, fix your hair, and please change into something nice,” she instructed him. She shoved him into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. “They’ll be here in half an hour!”

-

The new boss, Mr. Thomas J. Costa, was nothing like Nico had expected. He was young, like, mid-thirties, with a polite demeanor that slipped into something more personal and friendly when his Uncle Mike was around. He was crass, talking frankly about every minor inconvenience of his day while sprinkling in enough expletives to fill the Clemenza swear jar thrice over. He was relatable; he and Nico shared the same music tastes, and Nico’s jaw dropped in awe as the Boss relayed a tale of meeting Kurt Cobain in person.

And, most of all, he gave Nico’s life direction again.

It was a couple hours after dinner, as his mom and Jessica cleaned up in the kitchen and the men smoked in the back yard. Nico had been allowed to join the men outside, but all he did was stand awkwardly around the periphery as Don Costa regaled his dad and his uncle with the antics of a new puppy he was training (if he overheard that right).

“Yeah, he’s a dense little fucker, but he’ll get it, eventually,” Thomas sighed.

“Not like my Nico over here,” his dad had boasted proudly. Nico fought against the instinct to shrink in on himself as his father waved towards his direction and all three pairs of eyes fell onto him. “Honor roll student, president of the debate club, and former captain of the St. Drogo’s Direwolves.”

Former. He’d hoped that a year later, the word wouldn’t hurt so much. Too bad, it still did.

“That so?” The Boss took a puff of his cigarette, then redirected his attention to Nico. “Hey, kid, what are you doing? You in school, studying anything?”

“Oh, n-no, um, no, I’m not. I’m not, sir,” Nico stuttered, throwing in the honorific at the last minute as he subconsciously straightened his posture.

“Well, do you want to be studying?” Thomas bore down on him, steely gray eyes sharp with ambition and gleaming with promises. “What would you study, if you were in school right now?”

Nico’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he struggled his way through an answer, eventually landing on a painfully-exhaled “eh…”

Thankfully, the new Boss didn’t laugh, or even sigh disappointedly like his uncle just now. Instead, he looked the young man over carefully, silently appraising him for a worth that Nico could hardly find in himself. “Our company could do with a legal consultant,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Frank himself said he wants to retire by the time he’s sixty-five, which would give you about seven years or so to get a law degree and complete an internship at Costa Insurance, if that’s something you’d want to do.”

Uncle Mike glanced at Don Costa. “Tom, isn’t he a little young to bring into the-”

“No younger than you were when Grandpa Tony brought you into the fold,” Thomas answered. He stuck his palm out to Nico, inviting him to shake on it. “Well, Nico?” he asked.

-

“And after a year of not having any sense of direction or purpose, to finally be thrown that line, to be shown a future I could attain…” Nico continued rambling on, “…I just went for it!”

Julio hummed to let him know he was listening as he applied the Band-Aids to his face.

“I put my whole ass into law school, and the gym, and guard duty, and for what?” Nico asked, hopping from his seat and marching out the bathroom stall as soon as Julio stopped leaning over him. “To find out it was a lie,” he grumbled, “that the man who got me out of my depression was a hopeless, selfish, sexually and physically abusive, manipulative piece of-”

“I get it, I get it,” Julio answered, opening the door of the restroom onto the snowy night. He sighed, closing his eyes as he collected his thoughts before looking up at Nico through his lashes, which were quickly collecting snow. “I looked up to someone who later came to disappoint me, too,” he whispered. “But look, Nico –Nico!”

Nico blinked back the furious stinging in his eyes. Julio was standing close to him, squinting up at him through snow-flake jeweled eyelashes as he enunciated his next words clearly. “He didn’t get you out of your depression. You put in the work, you studied those long hours, you saw your future and you ran at it with everything you had to get it. You did all that, not him. He was just the spark, if you will, but the rest?” His tattooed hand thumped his sternum with every word he uttered next. “That. Was. All. You.”

And, for the first time since he found out the truth about Khaled, Nico felt something warm and fulfilling –pride? –swell in his chest. Julio smiled up at him. “You don’t owe anybody anything, and you should take pride in what you’ve accomplished on your own,” he told him.

Julio’s smile was wide, comforting, even. Nico’s heart pounded. It was unlike any smile he’d received from Khaled. No shy smiles that barely reached his eyes on this one; Julio’s smile was all teeth, fierce, feral, and free in its unabashed expressions. The closest Khaled ever came to smiling that sincerely around Nico was when his favorite team scored a goal, and even then, never this brightly.

Why was he only now realizing how different they were? Khaled and Julio were like the sun and the moon! Where one would quietly slink into a room and blend in with the wall, the other would kick the door open and saunter in with the calm confidence of an alley cat to take the seat at the head of the table, assuming it was not already occupied. Where one would omit information, and divert the subject to avoid talking about the things that mattered, the other would not shut up, especially about the things that mattered (justice, judgment, obligations, etc.). Where one would have to be continuously pressured into giving a half-truth after boldly lying to his face for years, the other was nothing but honest with him from the beginning. He told Nico he’d kill Thomas Costa for what he did to Khaled, and by god, he meant every word. Nico found himself falling in love with him that honesty.

But it’s not like Khaled was in any position to tell me the truth, Nico remembered, not without endangering himself or me. Still, though, it was refreshing to have someone like Julio be their true, authentic selves around him. Dare he say, Julio’s sincerity was even attractive.

But Nico liked women, okay? (Right?) At least, he thought he did. Being raised in a conservative, Italian-American, nominally Catholic organized crime family taught him that liking women was the only acceptable answer. His entire sexual history constituted women. However, Nico knew what he felt in the public restroom of that bar. Temptation. Nobody who exclusively liked women would feel temptation as Khaled stood on his tiptoes and attempted to kiss him. Yet it took everything in his power not to kiss him that night. And he found himself fantasizing about the ‘what-ifs’ ever since.

Nico first fell for Khaled, how he looked up at him with deep, dark brown eyes that a man could easily get lost in. But now, he was losing himself in Julio’s light hazel eyes, glittering a dim golden glow in the darkness of the night. His eyes panned down to Julio’s cheekbones, red from the cold (surely) and dusted lightly with stubbly facial hair. His eyes settled onto Julio’s full, smiling lips. They looked soft. Nico had no idea why he wanted to test that theory.

Is there just something about a murder that brings people together? Nico wondered. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks the longer he stared at Julio’s lips, imagining what those lips would feel like.

“You good, Nico?” Julio waved a hand over Nico’s fixed gaze, jiggling the padlock chain necklace he wore and making the links clink softly against each other. Nico unfroze, remembering why kissing Julio would be a bad idea, among all the other questionable ideas they had that night.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he lied. “I just zoned out for a minute.”

Julio –Khaled’s boyfriend –opened his mouth halfway, as if he were about to call Nico out on his lie, but whatever thought flashed between those hazel eyes compelled him to shut it again. He trudged away from the restroom and towards Nico’s Jeep.

Nico exhaled a frosty sigh. Of all the times to have a bi awakening, why did it have to be with a compulsive liar and a gun-for-hire? Why couldn’t he have this realization in high school, when the options were much lower stakes? He shook his head and followed.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

[ascended-slutstarion]

Would you be interested in writing something with a dom!Abdirak and an afab or GN Tav/reader? I'd love something kinky (your choice, go wild!) but I'm also curious how things would go with a partner who doesn't so much buy his whole Loviatar shtick and just wants the man for himself. Is there an Abdirak without Loviatar, or will she always be a third person in the room?

so i restarted the game just to meet him again (and also because i have once again failed to romance astarion because i'm too busy being a good person) and i swear his voice actor changed but idk- (also i'm gonna start slow so i don't put everything about my boy out too soon)

Abdirak NSFW headcanons

I'm gonna go ahead and risk saying that the sadism and masochism came before Loviathar did, actually.

That's not a religious freak, that's a freak who became religious when he found the right deity.

He has a very pretty dagger that was named after you. He only uses it with you, decorating your pretty skin with your even prettier blood.

He loves the noises you make. Whimpers, mewls, sobs, loud cries... all of it. He could probably get off to just your noises alone.

And maybe your pretty tears. You're so innocent, so inexperienced with the bliss of pain... It's incredible.

And he lives for your little flinching and shaking. He absolutely adores your precious, trembling form.

He loves to decorate you. To slowly drag the dagger along your skin, drawing intricate patterns on you.

Some of them for the Lady of Pain. Some for you. Some for him. And those scars make you look so, so elegant... He loves how they shine from underneath your clothing.

You're his muse, his beloved, his canvas.

And he loves to lose himself in you. He loves seeing you, all nicely cut up under him, as he finally sinks his cock inside you.

He's very much a dirty talker. The worshipping kind.

He worships you in the bedroom just as he worships Lady Loviathar at her shrine.

And he praises you so much, it would make your heart melt if it wasn't for the pain he was putting you through.

Admittedly, it was pleasurable, but it still hurt.

He's very good at aftercare, though.

He cleans up all the wounds (some of them, he even licks clean) and patches you up tenderly. He's so sweet about it, telling you how well you did.

Plenty of praises, small kisses and cuddles afterwards.

[kryptid-writes]

Chapter 9 - Cat's Out

The secret is out and the tension reaches a boiling point.

(2.6k)

The beautiful symphony of music plays, unlike anything I've heard before. It’s soft but powerful, the notes harmonizing and blending together in the most exquisite way, filling me with a sense of peace. 

I find myself dressed in a beautiful flowing white gown, adorned with tiny diamonds that sparkle under the bright light shining from the crystal chandelier that hangs above us in the empty ballroom. 

The elegant ballroom is filled with exquisite architecture that’s reminiscent of a fairytale. The marbled walls are lined with twisting golden engravings creating elegant designs. The white and gray columns tower over us, unique shapes and symbols carved into the stone. But perhaps the most stunning part of it all is the dynamic renaissance painting across the ceiling. Pastel depictions of angels and the peaceful grace of Heaven clashing against the dark armies of demons and black hounds of Hell. Among all the chaos is the battle of Micheal and Lucifer, the story I study like gospel.

Lucifer wears a matching three piece suit in a pristine white color that brings out the deep red of his eyes. His hair neatly brushed back and the usual blood that splatters his body is scrubbed completely clean.

I must admit, for a man that’s never seemed to care about his appearance before, he sure cleans up nice.

With my hand intertwined in his, we sway together, the click of shoes against the old polished wood echoing around. His extravagant wings flow to the melody and hold me close as we spin in coordinated circles. Our bodies press together, that wonderful electric feeling humming between us, pulling us ever closer. I press my face against his chest, breathing in his enticing smell. 

He rests his head on the top of mine and hums along to the music, occasionally singing a quiet word of Enochian. His hand rests on the small of my back and moves up to caress the feathers of my petite wings.

I suck in a breath of air as he reaches the cusp of my injured wing, wisps of pain surging through me.

With a touch of his fingers, a white light shines through and the wound is instantly healed, the pain fading rapidly and leaving a cool sensation behind.

“What happened my beloved?” He asks, placing a tender kiss on the top of my hair.

Lucifer always seems to know more about me then he lets on, but I play along with his little game regardless.

 “Did Dean do something to you?” He tilts my head to meet his gaze. “I swear to dad, I will make him wish he was never born!” His eyes burn with passion.

“No!” I blurt out. I rest my hand on his chest, trying to calm his sudden temper.

“Are you sure? Because I was really looking forward to finally smiting that petulant bug.” His lips twist into a mischievous smile at the thought.

“Dean didn’t do anything,” My eyes fall to the chestnut wooden floor, avoiding his eye contact. “I did this to myself,” my voice tapers off to a hushed whisper.

“Why?” He asks, his voice dripping with hurt, despite knowing the answer already.

“Because I don’t want to be an angel, Lucifer! I want to be me!” Hot tears brim my eyes, threatening to spill at any second.

“Oh, Darling.” He cups my face in his hands, wrapping his large white wings around us, shielding me from the light that has suddenly become all too bright. “This is your true form. This is who you were always meant to be.” He tenderly kisses my forehead.

I shake my head, utterly conflicted by the rush of emotions. I meet his gaze with wide eyes. The tears break free, racing down my cheeks.

“You are my fathers finest creation.” He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. “I didn’t think it possible that you could be any more beautiful, yet here you are my love,” he coos, running his eyes over every inch of me, admiring me as if I were the forbidden apple in the garden of eden. He pulls me into his warm embrace, the magnetic feeling courses through me, I feel as if I'm floating on a cloud.

“Oh, Luce,” I sigh into his chest.

“We’ll be reunited very soon and you’ll see why it must be this way,” he promises, running his fingers through my delicate feathers.

I close my eyes at the feeling and find myself fading from the realm of dreams.

------------------------------------------------------------

The soft murmurs of voices down the hall pulls me out of my peaceful dream that my mind scrambles to hold on to, desperate to return. 

After a minute of resistance, I stretch my arms far above my head and yawn, feeling refreshed after a good night of sleep. Yesterday's events must have really taken a lot out of me. Looking to my left, I notice the messy nest of sheets and pillows where Dean Winchester once slept, holding me in his arms. The memory leaves a soft smile on my face.

I throw the silk sheets off of me and stand from the bed, leaving my comfortable paradise. I grab a flannel off the floor and attempt to put it on, but it gets stuck above my wings, leaving me still completely exposed. I huff and tear at the threads in the back, carelessly ripping open two uneven holes. I constrict my wings into uncomfortable angles and force them through the mangled shirt. This angel business is bound to affect my life in many unforeseen ways.

I step out of my room and tiptoe down the hallway that leads to the library. As I grow nearer, the three familiar voices become more clear. I stop and press my body against the cold tile wall, hiding just out of sight and listen intently to their conversation.

“I’m telling you man, something is seriously wrong,” Dean warns in a hushed volume.

 I can hear him nervously pacing back and forth, his hurried footsteps giving him away.

“You should’ve seen what she was doing to herself! I’ve never seen anything like it!”

“So, what? You think it’s some sort of depression or dysmorphia?” Sam asks in confusion.

“Could be. It’s quite a drastic change,” Dean pauses for a second, “I mean you remember what it felt like losing your angel mojo and becoming human, right?” 

“Yes, it was certainly distressing,” Castiel replies in his usual monotone voice.

“I’m… fine,” I say weakly, interrupting their conversation and stepping into the light. I clutch my hands together, nervously picking at the cuticles of my nails. I try to fold my wings behind my back in a pitiful attempt to hide them, but at this point they’re too large to disguise. I can’t help but feel self conscious as their undivided attention is directed towards me.

“Y/N,” Deans gasps, eyes wide and mouth agape, resembling a deer caught in headlights.

“Um, good morning,” Sam says, his face painted in surprise. His eyes scan over my form, unable to look away from my wilted wings, particularly the mutilated one wrapped in bandages.

“Look, I had to tell them,” Dean admits in shame, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m just worried about you, is all,” his voice drops to a softer, concerned tone. 

“It’s okay Dean,” I assure him, swallowing the betrayal I felt deep down. “But really, I'm fine,” I emphasize the last two words, being sure to get my point across. My eyes flick over to the other men, they look back at me with doubt.

“You should let Sammy take a look at the wound, he’s always been better at this kinda thing than me.” Dean walks to my side, putting a comforting hand on my shoulder and guiding me to sit at the table.

I sink into the chair but sulk away from his touch. As much as I've grown to care for Dean, I can’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. It saddens me that someone I thought I could trust would rat me out so quickly. But I suppose all I was doing is delaying the inevitable, they would have found out one way or another.

Dean pulls his hand back, receiving the message loud and clear.

“Right,” Sam says and stands from his seat. His eyes still locked on my wings, undoubtedly having a difficult time peeling his eyes away. Without another word, he dashes out of the library.

The room goes uncomfortably silent, the awkward tension hanging in the air. 

Dean leans back against the table, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, clearly feeling a sense of guilt. 

I shift uncomfortably in my chair, my arms crossed and mind racing.

Castiel on the other hand, stands attentively on the other side of the table, his stare in my direction unrelenting.

Sam quickly returns with a bottle of whiskey and a small white towel. He pulls a chair out, the obnoxious scrape of wood breaking the silence. He sits across from me and clears his throat.

I frill out my injured wing, stretching it so that Sam may remove the bandage and inspect the wound.

He furrows his brows and carefully unwraps the damaged area. His eyes narrow and the bloody bandage falls to the ground. “It’s… healed?” His face scrunches up in confusion. His soft brown eyes shifting from my wings, back to Dean and Castiel. 

“No, it was right there, I stitched it up myself!” Dean huffs, stepping forward. He hovers over me to get a closer look at the wing, running a finger over the area that was previously mutilated. His expression is a mix of surprise and confusion.

I close my eyes at his touch, doing my best to suppress the blissful feeling that burns in my body. “Hm,” I respond, looking at the perfectly restored wing. I shift it back and forth, the pain completely gone.

Dean throws his hands up, bewildered at my response.

“Hm? That’s all you have to say?” He shouts at me and runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

I shoot a spiteful glare at him, annoyed by his temper.

“It’s possible that her newly found angel grace may have healed the injury overnight,” Castiel chimes in. He steps closer and leans over the table intently, placing his calloused hands on the worn wood.

“It’s not my grace,” I say quietly, my gaze falling to the floor. 

“What the Hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean barks, clearly fed up with the lack of answers.

“Lucifer… he healed me last night in my dream,” I admit, mentally preparing myself for the backlash I have deliberately been avoiding.

“He’s still communicating with you through your dreams?” Sam questions, his tone soft, much more understanding than his brothers. There’s no question that he’s the more compassionate of the two.

“Great! Well that’s just fantastic!” He roars, his voice a mix of sarcasm and anger. He bounds out of the chair and hastily throws a book that was sitting upon the table, in anger. It hits the wall with a crack and falls to the floor, ripped pages fluttering to the ground, landing in a messy pile. “Were you planning on telling us this anytime soon?” His face flushes red in rage and clenches his fists into tight balls.

I shrug, not paying mind to his childish outburst. 

“So, what? You’re buddy buddy with the devil now?!” He yells, taking several steps towards me with no regard for my personal space.

“I NEVER SAID THAT!” I bolt up from my chair. It tips backwards and hits the floor with a loud bang. I look up at him, his face just inches from mine. Our eyes lock in an intense staring contest, waiting for the other to break.

“Alright!” Sam intervenes, stepping between us. “Take a walk!” He snaps at Dean, giving him a light push to the chest.

Dean furrows his brows at Sam and gives me one final resentful glare before turning on his heels and storming out of the room, grumbling angrily to himself on the way out.

I let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding in. I close my eyes, getting my emotions under control, something Dean seems incapable of.

Sam takes a seat and runs his hand down his face, stopping to pinch the bridge of his nose, the stress evidently getting to him.

Castiel straightens up and stands still like a statue, looking unphased as usual. The scruffy angel resigns to silence.

“Look,” Sam says, gesturing for me to take the seat next to him. “We’re just a little frustrated you’ve been hiding this stuff from us,” his voice is calm and collected. 

It takes the edge off of my anger and I relax into the back of the chair, the wood digging into my back. “I’m sorry Sam,” I sigh. “I’m just ashamed that he has this hold on me that I just can’t seem to shake. I didn’t want to concern you.”

He nods his head in understanding. “He’s the devil, a master manipulator, and he’s a natural at getting inside people's heads. Trust me, I know,” he chuckles like it’s some sort of inside joke. Sam silently shakes his head, looking as if he’s recalling some distant memories.

“But these things,” I resentfully gesture to my wings. “I’m a full blown freak!”

“You’re not a freak,” Sam states in a stern voice. “I know why you feel that way, but it’s far from the truth Y/N.” He places his large hand on mine that rests upon the table in a friendly gesture.

“Look at me Sam! These things are an abomination,” I retort, hanging my head in shame.

“Your wings are nothing to be ashamed of,” Castiel interjects, breaking his stoic silence.

I lift my head and look in his direction, suddenly reminded of his presence. He had been so quiet and still that I completely forgot he was here at all.

“They’re a sign of beauty and grace,” he assures, his pensive blue eyes meeting mine. “You are beautiful,” he says in full seriousness, his face softening just a little.

I’m seriously taken aback by his words. A compliment is the last thing I'd expect from Castiel, even Sam looks shocked. “Thank you Castiel.” I’m unable to conceal the blush that creeps upon my face.

“Hey Cas,” Sam asks, changing the direction of the conversation. “How come we’re able to see her wings but not yours?” 

“I’m not entirely sure, but it likely has something to do with the fact that Y/N is partially human. Perhaps she is unable to conceal them the same way a natural angel can.”

“Wow, my luck just keeps getting better,” I reply sarcastically.

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. It seems that to some angels, sarcasm is a foreign concept.

“That’s probably why they look like this,” I say bitterly. “Short and stubby. Even my feathers are a rugged mess.”

Castiel frowns at this and Sam gives my hand a light squeeze.

“I mean compared to Lucifer's big majestic wings, these puny things are nothing,” I sigh.

Castiel’s head shoots up, his brows furrowed and face an unreadable expression. “You can see Lucifer’s wings?” He asks, seemingly caught off guard by this.

“Um… yeah?”

He straightens his posture, suddenly looking stiff and worried. His brows furrow and eyes flit back and forth, lost in thought.

“Cas?” Sam questions suspiciously.

“I believe I have a lead.” The sound of ruffling feathers echoes off the walls as he promptly disappears. 

His reaction leaves me with more questions than answers, an uneasy feeling settling in my stomach.

Sam and I look at eachother, exchanging worried glances.

Whether he admits it or not, Castiel is hiding something.

Series Masterlist

Full Masterlist

[ninchen1909]

The first time

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x plus size!Reader

Words: ~ 2,5k

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected Sex, ill body talk, short angst, fluff

Summary: You want to celebrate your six month anniversary with bucky. A loving touch from him, brings back bad memories from your last realationship. Can Bucky heal your old wounds or will your love break?

That’s my first time writing a smut szene, so here we go.

Enjoy:)

You stand in front of the mirror and examine yourself from all angles, you put in extra effort today when you got yourself ready. And all this is just for him. James Buchanan Barnes, your boyfriend, your one true love. Nervously you tug at your dark red dress, it fits perfectly. It lies tightly against your chest and caresses your breasts, your waist is perfectly highlighted by the dress. It hugs your hips and falls in light, steady waves to your knees. The dress emphasizes your feminine curves, you have styled your hair in your favorite way and applied a decent make-up. Your outfit is rounded off by the black ankle strap heels, which you have bought especially for this evening.

The ringing at the doorbell pulls you out of your thoughts, and as quietly as you can with your shoes you jog towards the door. With one hand on the doorknob, you let your eyes wander around dining room once again. The table is beautifully set, his favorite meal, which you cooked especially for this occasion, is set in the middle of the table. A bottle of wine stands on the sideboard, waiting to be opened.

After one last, deep breath, you open the door. And there he stands, the man for whom you have put in all this effort, the man you hope will stay with you for the rest of your life.

You notice how he looks at you from bottom to top, his gaze lingering a little longer on your breasts.

"You look stunning, princess. These are for you. Happy six month anniversary" he hands you a beautiful bouquet of 12 long stemmed red roses.

"Thank you so much, but you didn't have to" you drop your nose deep into the roses, taking in their lovely scent.

"But of course, my girl deserves all the flowers of this world" you smile at him and press a quick kiss on his cheek before inviting him into your apartment with a wave of your hand.

 After a delicious dinner and a pleasant conversation, you want to start washing the dishes, but are interrupted by Bucky, who places a hand on your forearm and wants to take the plates out of your hand:" Princess, let me do it, you've already cooked for us".

"Jamie, you've practically carried me on your hands for the last six months, I can cook for you for once and wash the dishes, you go on into the living room and relax a bit, I'll be right there, then we can watch a movie if you like" he smiles lovingly at you, the blue of his eyes even more radiant than usual. You are sure that you will never get tired of his eyes.  Tenderly, he strokes a strand of hair behind your ear.

"All right, if you say so. But don't make me wait too long." With a last kiss on your cheek, he disappears towards the living room.

You quickly begin to clear and clean the table. After about 15 minutes you have reached the last plate, when you suddenly feel a presence behind you, he steps close to you, so close, you can perceive his smell, a mixture of vanilla and sandalwood. You feel his hands on your hips while his nose runs up and down your neck, placing feather-light kisses on it.

"What's taking you so long?" he asks you, pressing a kiss to the shell of your ear.

"It's only been 15 minutes Jamie" his needy manner makes you giggle

"mhm, that's 15 minutes too much" you just shake your head with a smile and want to turn your attention back to the last remaining plate when you suddenly stop.

His hands slowly slide under your dress and glide from your knees up to the insides of your thighs, his vibranium hand feels pleasantly refreshing on your heated skin, you lean your head back against his chest and support yourself with both hands on the sink.

His fingers steadily paint patterns on your thighs as he continues to breathe light kisses on your neck and whisper sweet nothings in your ear. You feel loved and desired.

"You're so beautiful." his hands continue to move upward as you drop your head onto his shoulder with your eyes closed.

However, when his hands come to a stop on your stomach and his fingers gently massage your curves, you jerk away from him, tears shoot into your eyes and you disappear into the bathroom as fast as you can, locking yourself inside.

Leaving a totally perplexed Bucky behind.

 Bucky is pacing up and down the kitchen, he's angry, but not at you, God he could never be angry at you, he's angry with himself. He should never have pestered you like that. It' Just, that from the moment he saw you in that stunning dress, he couldn't think of anything else, but your skin on his.

You are the only person, apart from maybe Steve, that he trusts completely, that he feels 100% comfortable with. In a world that is totally foreign to him, you give him stability. Only with your help, he slowly starts to become the man he was before Hydra and the war. More exuberant, happier. But maybe he's blown that chance by his actions now. He plays with the idea of just leaving to spare you the sight of him. However, his conscience forbids him to leave without apologizing to you first.

In slow, hesitant steps he walks towards your bathroom and knocks timidly on the door.

"(y/n), princess, listen, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to crowd you. I'm going to go now, I hope you can forgive me someday and give us another chance. However, if you can't, I can understand that too. I just want you to be happy." As he speaks, he gently drops his forehead against the bathroom door. He can hear your soft sobs, which also brings tears to his eyes, and before he can stop them, tears are streaming down his cheeks. Maybe he has just ruined his only chance for happiness and true love. He is about to turn to leave when he is prevented from doing so by the gentle "click" of the door lock. The door opens to reveal you, your mascara running down your cheeks in black, thick rivulets. Your eyes are red and puffy from  crying. Bucky wants nothing more than to take you in his arms, to hold you close to his chest so he can tell you, that everything would be okay. However, he has already crossed one line today, he doesn't want to cross another.

"Jamie, what are you talking about? You didn't crowd me, I liked the way you touched me. But when you touched my stomach, all the negative things my ex-boyfriend said about my body raced through my head.  He always said that with my weight I will never be desired by anyone, and that no one would ever touch me willingly. And I'm afraid that when we take the next step, and you see me naked for the first time, that you won't want me then. Because you realize that an Adonis like you and someone like me don't fit together. I don't have a body like Nat, Sharon or Wanda. My thighs touch when I walk, my belly wobbles when I jump and it's really hard to find sexy lingerie with my bust. I don't want you to be disgusted by me. " ashamed, you look down at the floor.

You just wait for Bucky to realize how broken you are and turn away from you. But that doesn't happen, instead an index finger slides softly under your chin and carefully lifts your head.

You look into uncomprehending eyes: "Why should I be disgusted by you? For me you are the most beautiful woman in the world, inside and out. You give me the feeling of being a normal person and not a bloodthirsty monster. You love me even though my left arm is a murder weapon, and you really think I wouldn't love or desire you just because your thighs touch when you walk? I'd love to go to your ex right now and show him why everyone is afraid of the Winter Soldier." Bucky's eyes darken.

Beaming, but still a tiny bit unsettled, you look at him "Are you serious?" your beaming gives him the confirmation he's been waiting for since you opened the door, he pulls you close and presses a kiss to your forehead

"As serious as I have ever been in my life princess. You don't want to know what thoughts went through my head all evening, and all because of your body and this dress." lightly he pulls at the hem of your dress.

"mhm and if I do want to know" through your lashes you glance at him, recognizing a slight hesitation on his face, which is confirmed by his next words.

"Princess, we don't have to do this if you don't really want to. i can control myself, this is all about y...." you don't even let him finish his sentence and press your lips hungrily to his. Immediately Bucky returns your kisses with just as much passion and pulls you so close to him as if he wants to melt into you. The hallway is filled with the sound of clashing teeth and light moans. Bucky's hands disappear under your dress and rest on your ass, while you anchor your hands firmly in his hair.

"Fuck Jamie" you whisper between two heated kisses, and lead him towards your bedroom. Once you are in front of the bed, you carefully push him onto it, so that he now lies in front of you all while staring at you with dark eyes widened with lust. Before he can move, you quickly straddling him, only to take his lips again with yours a few seconds later. You move your crotch, in quick, jerky motions over his and you can practically feel his erection growing. You let out a short shriek as Bucky suddenly turns you around so that you are now lying on your back and James is leaning over you. His hands trace your torso, from your shoulders to your waist, then your hips all down to the hem of your dress. He looks at you questioningly, silently asking for permission to remove this disturbing garment. The fact that he asks you for permission again, even though you've made it clear before that you want him, makes your heart flatter. You give your answer with a short nod and quickly sit up to help him remove the garment better. Now you are just lying in front of him in your coordinated black lacy underwear.

With any other man you would have tried to cover yourself, however bucky is not any other man, he is your man. And the look he is giving you right now makes even the last self-doubt disappear and gives you confidence.

James lets his gaze roam over you again and again, he can't get enough of your body "Beautiful" he whispers again and again. His hands trace the contours of your entire body. Praising you like the goddess that you are, his lips leave a wet trail from your collarbone down to your belly button.  His lips stop at the waistband of your panties, and he spreads tender kisses on them, before he simply rips your panties in half and tosses them across the room. He ignores your surprised expression and buries his face in your middle, he lets his tongue slide through you slit a few times before he encloses your clit with his lips tenderly and carefully. As soon as he realizes that you like this action, he starts sucking on it a little harder. Your toes curl up and you bury your hands in his hair only to  start pulling on it in your arousal.  You try to stifle your moans, but you can't once James insert a finger into you.

The only thing you can get out from under your moans is a soft "Jamie, please" he looks at you with a mischievous smile as he inserts another finger inside you "What do you want princess, use your words" you throw your head back on the pillow and push your pelvis towards Bucky's hand. " Just fuck me already" it seems like he was just waiting for those words, in no time at all he has stripped off his clothes. You marvel at his massive length and lick your lips, Bucky bends over you once again and conquers your lips with his, before he positions himself in front of your entrance, with a deep look into your eyes and a whispered "I love you" he slides into you. You are not a virgin anymore but Bucky's size and the intensity of your act takes your breath away. You overstretch your head so that your neck is exposed, James takes advantage of this opportunity and sucks on the point below your ear. The complete feeling in your lady parts and the slight pain of Bucky's sucking on your neck, make you arch your back and push your hips even closer to Bucky's. He lets go of your neck, only to engage you in an intense and heated kiss before moving his lips toward your nipples, he starts to caress them alternately with his mouth.

You feel the walls in your pussy tighten more and more around Bucky's dick. With constant moans, you try to tell him "Ha..mie I...co" he looks at you smiling lovingly, the beads of sweat on his forehead and his disheveled hair make him seem even more beautiful to you "I know princess, me too, just let go" and you let go, with a loud "James" your head sinks even deeper into the pillows and your eyes turn backwards. Bucky's movements become erratic and choppy, the feeling of your walls contracting around him give him the rest and with a grunted (y/n) he spills his seed into you and drops his head onto your breasts, his arms instantly encircle your naked body, your fingers find their way into his hair again and you start massaging his scalp.

"I love you princess, more than life itself" James looks at you out of tired but incredibly content eyes before pressing a kiss to your belly then he rests his head on your breasts again.

"And I love you Jamie, more than you will ever know" you can feel it on your skin as his lips twist into a smile. Your hands find, each other and you intertwine your fingers together on your bare stomach. Slowly but surely, sleepiness overcomes you, and with Bucky's breathing on your skin and his now spent length still  inside you, you give in to the tiredness and just like Bucky, you fall into a deep and peaceful sleep.

Still connected to the love of your life.

[tavyliasin]

Web of Lust - Short Fic

AO3 Link Here Anyone want Haarlep/Raphael/Kar'niss? Well you're in luck because someone else requested it as a drabble so here's a short for you~ CW - Bondage, Spider/Drider, implied but not malicious manipulation

I tried to post the whole thing here but I got errors...not as short as I thought, then. Oh and if anyone wants more? I'll add it to my main fic request list. ---- Web of Lust ----

The incubus grinned, they hadn’t imagined this outcome when Raphael had brought in a mortally wounded Drider a week ago. “Heal him.” He had commanded, his servants carrying the almost motionless body of the former drow into his bedchamber. “If he can be restored, a contract can be made. A most useful agreement for a servant as loyal as this one. But only if he lives.” He left almost immediately, Haarlep still sat on the edge of the bed watching the servants manhandle the huge man into the healing waters. They let out a long suffering sigh and stood up, flexing their wings and tail with obvious irritation as they stalked across the room. “Leave him.” They shooed away the servants, who scurried to get out of their reach as quickly as they could. The drider’s lower body was in the water, but their torso was collapsed on the floor over the edge of the bath, back barely moving with the effort to breathe. Haarlep stooped down and turned them over gently, gazing upon the strange face. White hair in messy strands clung to the sweat and blood on his grey-tinted skin. “Strange…” They mused, as they got to work swiftly, cleaning down the well-defined muscles, soothing deep wounds with powerful balms, tending to them with a level of care most would not expect from the incubus. But an order was an order, and they could sense their own plans beginning to form. Eventually, the myriad of eyelids began to twitch, lips barely moving. Remembering a little of drow culture, Haarlep changed their body to mimic the Archduchess’s feminine form. “Drink.” The incubus commanded, holding the open potion bottle to his lips, carefully tilting it until he had consumed it all. “Good, now your name.” “Ka-” He licked dry lips, finding his voice again. “Kar’niss.” He rasped, with effort. “Where am I?” “It is your lucky day, Sweet Spider, you have found yourself in the very heart of Hope.” They grinned at their own humour, helping the drider’s upper body to straighten as they sat beside him. “And I,” they stretched their wings to look more grandiose, “am Haarlep. Or as far as you are concerned, your new mistress.” “A mistress? Then I have a home? A purpose?” Dark eyes widened, partially in fear that this was all some dread illusion about to be cruelly torn away, just like the voice in his mind that had disappeared when the tadpole succumbed to the death that should have claimed him just before he was brought back from the brink. “Oh I have many a purpose for you, if you swear your full devotion to me, right here, and right now.” They leaned closer, holding his cheek tenderly yet firmly. “Can you do that, my Sweet Spider? Will you swear yourself to me, the one who has saved your miserable life and restored your beautiful body?” Kar’niss’s mouth moved in an attempt to talk, but truthfully he was left almost speechless by the effortless seduction, the quiet power in the voice of the “woman” in front of him. “Come now, you can do better than that. You’re so close.” They leaned in close next to his ear. “Swear it to me, Kar’niss, that you are mine.” “I…am yours, mistress. Body and soul, I am yours to command. You have taken my worthless life into your loving hands, you may do with it as you wish.” The drider used every last ounce of his strength to speak, to declare fealty, before he slumped forwards into Haarlep’s arms. The incubus stroked his back softly, soothing the unconscious man. “You did well, now rest. You will need your energy.” --- Continued on AO3 ---

[the-muppet-joker]

His Gift

Tags and Warnings: Kermit x Joker, Muppet Kink, Egg Laying Kink, Wound Fucking, Viscera Fucking, Joker's Cum Makes Kermit Insane, Comfort, Fluff, Dead Dove Do Not Eat

♤♡◇♧

"Kermit! Kermit, darling," Joker had called out through laughter. He was trying to subdue his insane muppet lover who, while filled to the brim with Joker's seed, was practically bouncing off of the walls with manic energy and a thirst for violence.

So far, Kermit has killed three civilians on the southern end of Gotham. Joker rewarded the muppet very very well with some of his favorite kinks. After the first civilian was beheaded, Joker went into a frenzy and couldn’t help himself from fucking the torn esophagus. Kermit was whimpering at this point

“Joker, please, I’m so desperate for your cum. Let me drink it from this pathetic bastard’s throat, please”

A couple hours later, the second murder on the western end of Gotham occurred. A man pulverized beneath a steamroller, Joker filled Kermit’s already sopping muppet hole with the enticing viscera scraped from the concrete before pounding his tight muppet hole, guts and blood leaking at the peak of each thrust before Joker pulled out and came along his green lover’s back.

The third and final murder Kermit committed on the way back to their cozy safe house in central Gotham. Joker recognized the crazed look in his lover’s eyes as the muppet tore his final victim, an elderly woman, limb from limb. Kermit was rapidly approaching the point of no return, and while Joker wished to reward his dearest, he also wished to ensure he was okay.

“Darling…” he cooed, wrapping his arms around Kermit from behind as he flailed, tearing off the woman’s face. “You’ve had your fun, and you will get your reward, but now it is time for you to calm down. I want you to be fully aware when you receive my gift…”

Panting and covered in blood and his lover’s seed, Kermit slowly stopped dismembering his final victim. Joker raised his eyebrows at him, expectant.

Kermit nodded and allowed Joker to lead them both into their home.

Inside, Joker tenderly washed Kermit in their tub, taking care to scrub out the gore and semen from his green felt. Kermit felt the madness receding from his mind, a warm comfort taking its place.

“Ah, Joker?” He mumbled.

Joker hummed in response, focused on cleaning his lover fully.

“What was the, er, gift you mentioned earlier?” Kermit asked, looking up at the clown. Joker smiled, whispering,

“You mean you haven’t noticed my egg inside you?”

Kermit’s eyes widened. He hadn’t noticed in his bloodlust, but he could feel it now: the heavy presence pressing against the entrance of his muppet hole. Joker’s egg, which had rapidly grown inside of him after their initial lovemaking. Kermit began to tremble.

Joker helped Kermit out of the bath and led him, shaking, to a nest of blankets in the bedroom. Kermit yelped, feeling the bulge inside him shift as he sat down. He blushed as he realized how fertile he was for a muppet; even Gonzo had never been able to manifest an egg after being filled to the brim with rich baby batter only one time.

The egg began to press against his muppet hole, which was beginning to gather moisture in anticipation.

“Ah! Oh, fuck…” Kermit gasped, the sudden pressure bringing tears to his eyes. Joker stroked the top of his head soothingly. “You are doing so well, darling.” The praise caused more wetness to gather around the edge of his hole, and the egg slipped out a little more with the ease of the lubrication.

Gods, it was so large.

Panting and straining, Kermit pushed out Joker’s egg a little at a time, pausing with it sticking out of him halfway for a breath. The egg, now dripping with Kermit’s slick, was straining his hole painfully as it was at its thickest point.

“Just one more push, dearest,” said Joker softly.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Kermit pushed. And pushed. And pushed.

Squelch…

The sudden release of pressure made Kermit scream in ecstasy, so light headed that he began to rapidly lose consciousness, sleep overtaking him.

Joker looked at the wet, round, shining mass that his lover had managed to push out of him, nearly the same size of the muppet himself. “Kermit,” he murmured affectionately, scooping up his boyfriend with ease and carrying him to bed, “You never cease to amaze me…”

[pixies-and-poets]

oh man that vampire fic was SO juicy (lol)... how did tom react when woodrow passed out? Or what abt taking care of him afterwards? Any ideas?

THANK YOU, I'm really glad people liked it-!! I have to throw it onto the pile of stuff to think about from time to time along with the High Seas AU and the werewolf AU and the sparks of despair AU and the necromancer AU, how did this happen to me aslkjf;lksjd

But yeah I got to thinking about it and I was just going to list out what I think would have happened, but then... at that point, why not just narrate it? And so, the scene from Tom's perspective...

The ghost withdrew his fangs slightly, letting the blood flow faster. Every sip, every gulp was ecstasy. No prey had ever been like him. The eating was always decadent on Palette Prime, it was true, but- combine that with the rich blood of a poet, and a special spice all his own, the seasoning born of curses and misfortune. He could never know, never comprehend, what a treasure he was.

Woodrow groaned and turned his head, and Tom turned it back with his paw, stilling him. Silly man... he needed to not move this much, or his punctures might tear. There was quite a difference between a neat clean bite and a ragged wound, and he didn't want his darling getting hurt more than need be. Although, his performative struggle was irresistibly adorable...

And suddenly, something was amiss. The struggle had ceased completely. There was an unnatural stillness.

As difficult as it was to do so, Tom withdrew from his beloved's neck and looked at his face. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, the skin in his ears and around his eyes as blanched as a watery dawn; and no visible breath stirred him. The vampire's eyes widened as the warm blood he had just drank turned cold as ice within him. He hadn't- no! No, he had been trying so hard not to go too far-

He shot a paw out to his prey's wrist, and held it. It was there... faint, but there. A pulse.

A shudder of relief passed through the vampire. Then his eyes darted, looking around for something to halt the continued bleeding. There- on the side of the bed, Woodrow's ribbon. It belonged around his neck anyway- he grabbed it and tied it around his darling's tender neck, a few loops, just tight enough. The makeshift bandage worked; a stain of deep red appeared within the pink, then stopped growing.

The Phantom allowed himself a sigh of relief now. He gently lifted the poet, took off his coat, and set it to the side; then lifted the thick blankets and slid the unconscious body underneath, settling his head anew on the pillow. "There, there, my darling, my sweet," he said in a sing-song, his voice still carrying a slight tremble of nerves. He was singing as much to comfort himself as the one who could not even hear him.

He pulled down the blankets slightly, exposing the chest, and laid a hand over the heart. The faint beat traveled through his arm, vibrating the dead stillness of his own core. Tenderly, but firmly, he began to massage his beloved's chest, and his arms, from wrist to shoulder- trying to improve the circulation of the little blood he had left.

As he did so, once again humming and singing half to himself, he began to feel a little foolish for his former terror. So what if Woodrow had died? There were means to bring him back, of course, before it was too late. He would join his Lord, truly- spread his wings, both figuratively and literally, a fellow creature of darkness. He need not lose the poet in spirit. He need not say goodbye.

...But Tom did not want that. And he knew Woodrow did not want that. He did not want to die, and the vampire did not want him to die. He was gloriously alive; not only a source of fresh blood, but a source of everything else that Tom lacked. There was something about the writer that made Tom yearn for a time long lost to him... sunlight and warmth, the orange and gold of a forest in the afternoon.

As the ghost gazed upon his prey, he could not help but see him as a diagram, his eyes tracing every vein and artery in his strangely-shaped body. Each of those was so precious; they connected his brain and his beating heart, they bound together his living body, they carried all good things.

No; he would never understand how precious he was, indeed.

He settled down next to the poet and caressed his head. He began to stir, and the Phantom knew he would soon awaken. He must keep his composure, when so; he could not let Woodrow know how close he had come to death. Worry was the last thing the poet needed; Tom must must play it cool, and suave, and firm- and as difficult as it was for them both, he had to promise to take a hiatus while the poet's body restored itself.

And in the meantime, he would provide for him, like a young bird- the strange, wonderful little crow that he was. Whatever he wanted, Tom would find and bring back to their nest, if he had to fight tooth and bat-claw to get it. He would be warm and safe while he produced more of the precious nectar that fueled his body, wonderfully and irreplaceably alive.

"Darling," he said again, softly, rubbing the poet's cheek with the back of his hand. "Do not leave me. Do not join me in the cold of death. I love you. I love you as you are."

[wri0thesley]

https://www.tumblr.com/j0succ/714518983274086401/i-simply-long-to-tenderly-wipe-a-smear-of-blood?source=share

The opposite, Diluc, or maybe more fitting for Childe, wiping a drop of your blood off your cheek, keeping unblinking eye contact with you as he sucks the tip of his thumb into his mouth, tasting you before telling you in a seriously patronising manner that he told you you'd get hurt if you tried to leave. You dummy. You can't even last 5 minutes away from him before getting hurt.

Diluc, Sweet, patronising, giving your booboo as kiss, being so gentle with you as he cleans it promising you medication when he gets you "home" which is probably going to involve a sedative and ankle manacles.

Childe cleaning you up, but roughly, all business not caring for your flinches or winces, a complete contrast to the condescending sweet words. You know him well enough to know the rage simmering under the surface and that your punishment when he gets you home is going to hurt.

anon, i am brainrotting so entirely over this concept.

diluc who is terrified at first as he checks you over but when he's ascertained it is merely a surface wound, a cut and a scrape and a bruise, calms somewhat - gloved hands gently wiping away the blood, tongue clicking as he says to you 'oh, my love. my darling. see? this is what i want to keep you safe from. stay still for me, now. can you walk? let me carry you home." childe and his rough but efficient cleansing - a man who is well-versed in combat medicine, but who will not allow himself to explode until you are home. you think this hurt? you just wait. he hopes you'll give him more of a fight than you gave whatever it was that caused your injury.

and! it's brainrotting me so hard about OTHER yanderes. which ones of them are coddlers, all silky syrupy sweet (zhongli, ayato)? which ones of them let your wounds go untreated, so you learn your lesson (alhaitham, pantalone)? which ones of them see your blood smeared on your cheek and have to calm their beating heart and twitching dick (albedo, dottore)?

[fox-buried-in-maple-leaves]

Care

They were inherently different, even if they both took care of him. 

Katsumi sat up in bed, blue-green eyes blinking against the rising sun that washed over his skin. The bed dipped beside him, a cold body pressed against his side. The blanket pooled around his waist, but the heaviness of the fabric didn’t compare to the arm securely thrown over his torso. He brought a hand up, pressing his palm to his forehead as he closed his eyes tightly.

He had a headache. 

“Katsumi?” 

“Mm.” 

Purple cat ears twitched, the fur soft against Katsumi’s bare chest. He opened his eyes once more, looking down at the man who stared up at him. His mismatched eyes stared through his own. “Does something bother you?” Eiji’s voice was soft, pushing himself up a little bit.

Katsumi dropped his hand from his head, he moved his wrist so he could brush his knuckles against Eiji’s cheek. His hand was wrapped in a bloodied bandage. He furrowed his eyebrows, pulling his hand away from Eiji’s skin. He dared not taint the feline. Not with his blood. “He tried..” Eiji exhaled, sitting up properly in the bed.

“He was never good at tying those tightly.”

“I know.” Katsumi bit the inside of his cheek as the man cradled his wounded hand. Eiji carefully unwrapped the bandage, looking at the large cut that crossed Katsumi’s knuckles. “Let me get a cloth and water.” He set the kitsune’s hand down on his lap and then slid out of the bed.

Eiji grabbed the ronin’s kimono from the chair, pulling it around his body as he left the room. Katsumi stared at the wound on his hand, he didn’t remember how he got it. He couldn’t even feel it. He knew that was Masuyo. His head still hurt though, he let out a small groan, leaning his head forward, holding his head.

Just do not think about it.

“Hard not to think about it..”

Then it will continue to hurt.

Katsumi blinked back the tears caused by the growing pain in his head, he inhaled, then exhaled. “Here.” Eiji set the bowl and cloth down on the small dresser beside the bed. “Let me see.” Katsumi held out his hand as the feline sat on the edge of the bed, tipping the cloth into the water and ringing it out.

“Why does he fight every night?” 

He didn’t have an answer to Eiji’s question as he cleaned the wound tenderly. “This is deep, Katsumi.” There was concern in his voice as he held the kitsune’s hand, as he wiped away the crust and fresh blood. “Masuyo.” He lifted his head, mismatched eyes once more stared into his own. “You’re supposed to take care of him.” 

Something grey stirred in the blue-green eyes, something dull and pale, something not human. Not anymore, at least. 

He knows not what he speaks of!

Katsumi averted his gaze quickly, the pounding in his head. His hand came up again, groaning audibly, fangs bared against the pain. Eiji sighed softly, he shook his head and returned his attention to the injury. He set the cloth aside, taking a strip of bandages they kept on the dresser because of occurrences like this.

Carefully, he wrapped the injury. The kitsune’s tails stiffened when Eiji’s cold lips pressed to the bandaged injury. “Did you still want to make inarizushi tonight?” His tails relaxed, then began to wag rapidly. Eiji chuckled, eyes lifting to his, he seemed much happier, distracted from the persistent pain.

“I’ll take that as a yes?”

“You’re the best, sunflower!”

“That’s a new one.”

“I have even more in my pocket, birdie.”

Eiji rolled his eyes playfully, releasing his hand to get out of bed. “Come on, let’s go get dressed.” 

They both took care of him, but he preferred Eiji. Overt love, a thing he always craved, needed. Eiji provided him with.

[worldofbraingirlau]

'Grr. That was stupid of you Steven." Wordman scolded himself. He couldn't help but watch in agonizing pain as the woman stuck her tongue at him before scurrying off. Huggy ran off into a different direction in the store before coming back with a bag of ice. "Thanks Huggy." Wordman grunted as she tenderly sat up and placed an ice pack on the area where the cat lady kicked him hard. Wordman let out a sigh of relief as he felt the ice relief his pain. Huggy just patted the hero in awkward comfort. "Aren't you going to go after her Wordman?" One of the patrons asked. Wordman gave that person a "Are you kidding me?" glare. Luckily for him a civilian stood up in his defense. "Th guy just got kicked in the nuts! You really think he is able to do any crime fighting now!" Wordman lifted his hand up to halt any further arguments and discussions over him. "Thank you for your concerns citizens. Rest assured I will apprehend that vile cat villain very soon if she decides to foolishly strike again." Wordman slowly got to his feet as he prepared himself to fly off. "But what about Mousebraingirl and the mess in my store?" The Grocery Store Manager complained. Wordman shot the guy an annoyed glare. "I can deal with Mousebraingirl just fine thank you. Besides you have the means to clean up. I have things I need to handle now." With that Wordman grabbed Captain Huggy Face and flew off. The Grocery Store Manager grumbled. "Well someone still needs to pay for this mess. You, you're not getting a paycheck this month." The manager pointed to a random person. "But you just fired me last year." The random person stated. It was a silent flight as Wordman and Huggy headed back home. Steven personally wanted to find this strange knew villain and make sure she is brought to justice, but another stronger part of him wanted to make sure Mouse was okay after that scare. Plus he knew Jenkins would be on his case if he didn't get his wounds properly treated. Something the man didn't want to deal with right now. Huggy then chattered somethign to Wordman's ears. Even though he couldn't really understand him, Wordman had a good idea what Huggy was trying to say. "I don't know why I hesitated Huggy. I just couldn't bring myself to punch her." Steven exclaimed in a frustrated tone. He really didn't know what caused him to stop attacking her. It was as if something in his body screamed "STOP!" when he was about to knock her lights out. Steven didn't know what compelled him to hesitate. He just knew that ever since he saw that mysterious cat lady, something nagged at the back of his brain. Something was telling him that he should know who that lady is, but he had no clue as to why. Steven was emotionally and physically exhausted. He just wanted to get back home, check on and comfort his daughter, take care of his wounds, and go back to working on a way to free his child from that horrible parasite attached to her head. @experimentedcat

{{{{{ Grumble! }}}}}}

Carrie tried to ignore her stomach grumbling. Knowing she didn't have food on hand at the moment nor money she knew she would have to find a way to eat.

Her stomach growled again. Hunger pains were setting in again. When was the last time she actually had something to eat ..?

So she did what anyone would do-

Rob the nearest store she could find.

Okay maybe not anyone. ..

She was hungry and being reasonable was the last thing on her mind as she stuffed some fish in her mouth. Ignoring the stares she got by the customers and store owner alike. She was used to being stared at, at this point.

@experimentedcat

Just as she was about to reach the exit a gust of wind knocked her over. Carrie laid splat on the ground as the fish she had "borrowed" was now scattered around her Carrie blinked in stunned surprise before she slowly got up from the floor. She rubbed her head as she tried to gain her barrings. "What hit me?" she muttered before turning around. Carrie for the first time since she escaped that awful place was shocked to see who knocked her over. "MWAHAHAHA!" The figured cackled. "It is I mousebraingirl! I am here to illegally acquire all of your precious freshly made yellow dairy concoctions." Mousebraingirl exclaimed with evil glee. Everyone in the store looked at her with confusion. "Your going to do what?" The Grocery Store Manager asked. Mousebraingirl frowned in annoyance. She hated that people still didn't know what certain words meant. Wasn't there a dictionary or a word themed superhero they could learn from? "I'm going to steal all your cheese now." Mousebraingirl restated in a less than enthusiastic tone of voice. The Grocery Store manager and crowd nodded as they now understood what she was saying. They then froze, their eyes wide open as they NOW understood what she was saying. The people in the store screamed and began running around in frantic motions as they panicked about being robbed. Mousebraingirl gave a huff as she crossed her arms. "Thats' better." she muttered before switching to a mischievous expression. "Now say goodbye to your precious cheese!" @experimentedcat

[rinnelovebot]

Number 20 and 59 with Vampire Lord Rei pls 😤😤😤

A/N: PHEWIE … I love him your honor

*ೃ༄ Rei Sakuma + 20: Hand kisses , 59: Kissing your lover's wounds after having bandaged them up

“You must be more careful, darling.”

You frowned. Rei had been somewhat lecturing you for the past half hour. You sat on the edge of the bathroom counter, watching as the vampire slowly wrapped a clean white bandage around your scraped arm.

“I know…” You sighed, looking away from him. “I’m sorry.”

You couldn’t help but huff. About an hour ago, you had taken a nasty fall onto solid concrete after collapsing due to exhaustion. Work was work—and unfortunately, there wasn’t much you could do to escape it. Maybe you’d try to get some more sleep, or maybe you’d force yourself to drink more water. If not for your sake, then for Rei’s.

Your boyfriend cupped your cheek as he stood between your legs, gently kissing your forehead. “Don’t apologize, beloved. Just be more mindful next time, yes?” He whispered against your skin, pecking you once again before pulling away to bandage your other arm.

It was unbelievable how utterly kind and loving he was. Rei had warned you numerous times about the consequences of overworking yourself, and when you hadn’t listened and ultimately collapsed, he still stood here, bandaging you up. “I will. I promise.”

Rei smiled warmly. “I know you will.”

He wrapped your arm with the bandages so expertly, covering your wounds with the white fabric tightly enough to stay on, but not tightly enough to hurt you. You didn’t understand how you got so lucky—having a boyfriend who would always drop everything to help you. You almost felt guilty.

Rei must’ve read your thoughts, taking your hands in his softly once he finished dressing your arms.

“I’ll always be here for you to fall back on, alright? You needn’t worry. I only want you to be safer, my dear.” He smiled, bringing your uncovered hands to his lips, kissing them tenderly. “I love you very much.”

“I love you more, Rei. I’m grateful to have you.” You answered, the man continuing to kiss around your palms, knuckles, and fingers. He let out a breathy chuckle, leaning into you, his face dangerously close to yours.

“I love you most.” He said, simply. “You do so much for me, so let me take care of you once in awhile, sweetheart.”

The ravonette fully leaned in and kissed you, his lips molding to fit against your perfectly, his hands never leaving yours. You felt him smile against your lips.