#no I didnt check for typos

[emails-i-cant-send]

hello adhders. I have created a playlist I listen to while working that helps me focus and keeps me in a stable mood. Not all of us have the same music taste of course but this playlist is mainly songs that help me focus because of their production elements! thought I'd share because if it works for my brain it might work for yours! also have other slightly less objective/ more personal reasons as to why it helps me focus under the cut + feel free to take what you like and add it to your own

The Megan Thee Stallion is here because her music makes me feel like That Bitch. Plus the production and I love her very deeply her music is genuinely so good. Sadder slightly more motivational songs are in here (the middle by jimmy eat world, you're on your own kid and royal by waterparks) keep me grounded kinda? they remind me what I'm working for. Some blackbear in here is for that reason + production on his music. + keeps my brain entertained. three songs on here featuring my dearest sorn (hobgoblin, rowdy and not a friend) are here because of production mostly and they keep me entertained in the background (part of the reason I work with music) Sabrina Carpenter is here because of the production and style in certain songs. The same production and style that I also hear on midnights! Måneskin is here cause it sets the mood. Makes me feel and doesnt distract me because I dont understand what he is saying (Italian songs) And finally Conan Gray because he also sets the mood!

[harbingersglory]

can i req some arlecchino kink headcanons? no pressure to answer! there's just a lack of new knave content lately ahhh.. (￣ヘ￣)

{☆} characters arlecchino {☆} notes drabble, hc's, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings 18+ content

{☆} dacryphilia

arlecchino is a sucker for crying. doesn't matter if you cry easily or not– either she sees it as a challenge to make you cry in the first place or to see how much you can cry before you have to tap out. her absolute favorite way to make you cry is straight up overstimulating (or understimulating you, depending on her mood) until you're practically sobbing. if you cry prettily enough maybe she'll take pity on you.

{☆} temp play

arlecchino has a pyro vision and she is absolutely going to use it. especially prominent if you're both in snezhnaya– it provides prime opportunities for her to slip her hands under your clothes when you least expect it just to see you squirm beneath her hands. she'd never actually do anything too scandalous in public, but if you're a bit more hidden away she'll have no qualms playing with your chest. if you complain about the cold you're just giving her an excuse to "warm you up" and see you tremble like a lamb.

{☆} face sitting

nothing prettier to her then seeing you above her with her face between your legs. her tongue is just as warm as any other part of her, and she knows how to use it, too. she'll hook her arms around your thighs just to hold you down until you've doubled over from the intensity of it– if you start crying, oh, she just gets worse. absolutely ravenous. she won't stop even if her jaw starts to ache. if you don't want her to stop, she could go for hours without a break.

[hitodama3]

Best Friend's Brother (Caleb-LaDS)

So this bare shadow of a plot bunny has been pawing at my brain all day...

Along with the song Best Friend's Brother.

I can never see myself as the protagonist in otome games, or really any dating sims so imagine...

Not protagonist x Caleb

You are the childhood best friend of the LaDS protagonist.

You two are thick as thieves, and she spends as much time at your house as she does her own.

So, of course, you're well acquainted with her older, adopted, brother Caleb, and as the years have passed you've gained a bit of a ... crush.

And of course, your BEST friend would notice your change in behavior. Becoming a little mooney, maybe doodling something in a notebook before hiding it away when you see her coming, or even staring a *little* too long at the boys during the down time at lunch. She pounces on you like a hyena demanding to know what's going on.

Eventually, you're unable to avoid it any longer, and the feeling like you're going to burst out of your skin. You blurt out rapid fire that you have a crush.

She is over the moon! Immediately wanting to know who. So she can start planning a strategy on how to get them to like you. At first you refuse to tell her, because; What if it ruins your friendship!?! This is your best friend's brother after all!

But, eventually, you can no longer hide your wandering eyes, or maybe she sees the scribbled out C in your notebook, and puts two and two together.

You have to cover her mouth; when she almost screams your feelings, for everyone to hear! Your eyes dart around her face concerned that this may ruin your friendship, but you have no way to know that this could be the best thing that's ever happened to your friend.

What friend hasn't wanted their best friend to *actually* be their sibling, and a part of their family? She honestly couldn't think why she hadn't tried to orchestrate this sooner! She'd be able to keep her brother AND best friend forever this way!

You struggle to contain her excitement, and to keep her from; at the earliest opportunity, march over to Caleb and demand you date.

She tries her best to give you as much insider information as she can; into what Caleb likes and dislikes, and tries to set up as many encounters and alone time as possible.

You'd be embarrassed about how blatant she was being if you didn't enjoy his company so much. His presence making you feel warm and happy, while also feeling like you'd throw up at any time.

You were going to confess.

After months of interactions both created and situational you knew you weren't going to get any closer to him.

So no matter how stereotypical it may seem you pick Valentine's day to confess. You go out and find the largest sunflower you could find, before asking Caleb to see you alone. Though you could see your friend hiding around the corner as a mildly awkward and supportive audience, and confess.

You watch the face you'd been studying for months and you see that easy smile shift into a hesitant tilt. The moment becoming awkward and heavy and you knew his answer long before a word left his mouth.

You told him it was okay and that you guessed he only saw you as his sister's friend, or even a second little sibling, but you were glad that you confessed your feeling to him if to give them a release so they might start draining out so you could move on.

When you start to see him relax that you wouldn't burst into tears or yell you tried to put on a smile pushing back the bile that wanted to rise up your throat, and looking a little above his head and refusing to blink to dry your eyes. You held out the sunflower and asked if he'd take the flower at least, and thank him for not making fun of your feelings.

You turn away and your friend peaks out seeing your face and frown pulls at hers as she darts out snagging you and pulling you away as fast as possible.

The was the last time you talked to Caleb for many years. You'd see glimpses of him just from being friends with his little sister, but he did you a service by trying to be our of the way when ever you were near. Probably to be considerate of your feelings though it stung regardless.

Thankfully over the years you were able to put your feelings to bed, but the peace didn't last long when in the future you get a call full of heart break and agony.

Caleb was dead.

You rushed to your friend's side and tried to be there through the nights of pure agony and pain. Trying to fill the gap of loneliness and grief as best you could. Sharing the loss of someone who had been a large part of both your childhoods.

But then... He was back.

Your friend demanded you meet her, and you were happy to see them. A lot had been going on in your friend's life as she juggled her work as an enforcer with four other men that seemed to be a big part of what was going on in your friend's life.

She waved you over to a seat at the cafe and you chatted happy to see each other and catching up on what had happened when your friend perked over waving someone else over to the table.

When you heard a familiar voice. The gentle and upbeat tone curling down your spine like a caress. You froze unmoving as if afraid that you might spoke the ghost that had come to haunt you before a heavy body dropped down in the chair next to you.

Caleb complained as he realized your friend hadn't told you he was alive, and your friend stating that she wanted it to be a surprise just like it was a surprise for her.

Slowly you turned your head fighting not to go slack jaw as your eyes collided with unfamiliar purple eyes in a vaguely familiar face.

He was familiar.

He seemed like a stranger.

He was beautiful.

He felt cold.

He teasingly greeted you eyes roaming your body and pausing appreciatively over parts of you.

It made warmth pool in your checks and stomach, as you shifted away as if trying to run from his gaze.

You tried to banter with your friend accusing her for surprising you with something this large when you felt a large hand wrap around your wrist giving an imperious tug to drag your attention back to him.

Eyes narrowed and a pasted on smile he tells you that his sister refused to give him the details on how you were doing saying it should come from you. What followed felt more like an interrogation than long lost friends getting to know each other again.

Your wrist stayed locked in his grip the entire time his some slowly rubbing circles on your pulse point. Fingers flexing when ever your friend would drag wild stories or shenanigans you hadn't gotten into during the time he had been... away.

Especially when she brings up your dating life. Your friend has thrown herself into her work in the wake of Caleb's death, and you had decided that you wouldn't stay in mourning for a relationship you never had and starting putting yourself out there.

Your friend took great pleasure and relaying some of your more disastrous dates to him. You could feel your embarrassment rise in the face of your first crush but snapped at your friend good naturedly.

You even started up on some of your fun dates and adventures happy to recount your newest relationship. You had met online and he seemed very nice taking you out to places you had shown interest in and doing group activities with you.

You had forgotten your wrist was in his grasp till you started wondering out loud if you might ask him to officially be your boyfriend when you yelped at the sudden pain in your wrist dragging your eyes over to Caleb's narrowed ones as his hand tightened around your capture wrist.

His fake smile widened now that your attention rested solely on him and he started to pick apart your new potential partner. Finding every little issue you've had and dragging it to the forefront on why he wasn't good enough. With every one of your protest his thumb would swipe over your wrist and he'd call you on any excuse you tried to spout.

When Caleb's phone digged he finally broke the staring contest you'd been under allowing you to finally feel as if you could breath deeply again, and you watched a real smile tug at his lips more a sneer than anything. He knocked his phone towards you so you could see the contents. Caleb snuggly showing every dirty secret on your potential love interest. Gladly showing off what a terrible man he was and his secrets he's been hiding, while simultaneously simpering to you that it was okay and bad men hide themselves well.

It truly wasn't more secrets then the average person had, maybe a few incidents in his youth then most, but when compiled together it truly was enough to shake you after the mental battering you'd been subjected to for at least the last hour, and after the shock of seeing a loved one return from the dead...

You were quite mentally pliable at the time.

You were staring in confusion at his phone not noticing as the siblings talked over your head with only their face expressions and some head tilts.

You wondered allowed what you were supposed to do you were supposed to have a date with this man tonight...

Still holding your wrist with one hand and carefully tilting your face up with the other Caleb directed your attention back to him. Telling you not to worry and he'd take care of it. Let him take care of you again just like old times.

After all you wanted to make his readjustment period after his return smooth didn't you? It has been quite rough his recovery after the accident.

You were confused before the hand on your face shifted becoming cold and metallic. You flinch away in shock watching Caleb lower his prosthetic to the table top and you were instantly fascinated and concerned.

Caleb easily held your attention explaining his circumstances and how it'd be easier to get used to his new apartment if you might come over and assist him?

Before you could turn and ask your friend she piped in stating how she had work and won't you PLEASE help Caleb put with this?

Between the sibling tag teaming you were no match and agreed to help Caleb out as much as needed. Handing over your phone so he could type in his number and address. While your head was bent to look over where he was staying you were unaware as your friend beamed so pretty at her brother.

She always wanted her best friend to be part of the family and Caleb ALWAYS gave her what she wanted, and he OWED her after this last stunt.

Caleb tilted his head in acknowledgement eyes towards you and his smile pulled becoming a bit more soft that was only present for two people in his life. He had only viewed you as a sibling all those years ago but now after his time away you had bloomed. He couldn't hide behind the thought of you as a sibling anymore. You were a beautiful individual and people were starting to take note.

His hand flexes around your wrist once more. Just short of causing you enough pain to look up again. He could see the beginnings of the bruise he'd leave on your skin form. He couldn't help but be pleased at the reminder that would be visible to all who were looking.

He wouldn't allow them to.

You were his.

He was your first love. Your puppy love. And he was sure he could reignite that spark. Especially considering the shy glances you had thrown around at the beginning.

Caleb smirked as he raised your hand to press the sunflower tattooed on your wrist with his supposed death date wrapped around it to his lips. Watching much like a hunting dog observing its prey as your face jerked up from your phone and flushing at the contact. Hand spasming as you attempted to drawn it away and color climbing towards your ears.

Yes, this new assignment would not be a problem at all.

[anemicjellyfish]

So I've been going over the likely possibilities of why Blitzø's gun heated up suddenly in Mission: Chupacabra.

My first thoughts were torn between it being interference from either Stolas or Asmodeus.

Stolas has used his magic to assist Blitzø's missions on Earth before.

Eagle-eyed viewers noticed a red glow of magic surrounding Stolas' hand in the bathtub, matched by a red glow around Martha's bullet in Murder Family. So he can use his magic to effect objects on Earth while being in Hell.

Stolas also interfered much more heavily in Truth Seekers, showing up in person when Blitzø & IMP were cornered and locked down by Agents 1 & 2. He had no issue with his possession of Agent 2 or controlling the unnamed agents to paint a summoning circle for him.

Personally, I think that despite the... "breakup," Stolas is the most likely culprit for the Hot Gun thing. But I'd like to give consideration to Asmodeus, because I think it's only fair to consider all possibilities.

I will tend to use the nickname Ozzie, because my phone's autocorrect hates when I type Asmodeus. Sorry.

While we don't know the rules and regulations of Ozzie and his Crystals, we do have to remember Stolas' line to Blitzø in The Full Moon: "You'll be under his [Asmodeus'] jurisdiction..."

I don't think they'd specify that to us without it being important later. Ozzie has also been a prominent figure since his introduction, and his relationship with Fizzarolli only deepens his importance to the story.

I could reasonably guess that either Ozzie himself has the ability to monitor the crystals & their location and use, or that he has people/a person to do that for him.

While I still prefer Stolas here, I could understand an interference from Ozzie. For whatever reason the show has, the existence of Hell needs to be kept away from humans until after they die. If one of Ozzie's Crystals is being used by someone as irresponsible as our beloved Blitzø, who gets caught by humans sometimes, it could put Ozzie at risk. It was ultimately his choice to give the Crystal to Blitzø (through Stolas), so the responsibility for any mistakes could fall onto Ozzie.

The main reason I don't think the Hot Gun is Ozzie? There didn't seem to be any interference in Unhappy Campers. Not only was Blitzø not in a disguise from the start, but Barbie also ditched her disguise in front of that human guy. Blitzø didn't have a Crystal of his own yet, and the one he used to get to Earth wasn't his.

I doubt the firework that killed the camp counselor was from Ozzie, but like I said, I'm open to the possibility that he keeps tabs on his Crystals & their use. Or, at the bare minimum, he knows when a user is in danger/fucking up, and interferes minimally to get them to safety.

Finally, I'm aware of the theories that Blitzø has had a previous relationship with a currently unknown Sin. I believe the fan theories mainly go with Leviathan? I'm not fully into this theory myself, but I've really only ever heard about it from Tiktok.

Since Blitzø's gun has that slight Pirate look to it, one of the aquatic-themed rings of Hell could be its origin. It could have an enchantment or powers we don't know of yet.

It could also just be a magic gun. Blitzø may have some mental connection with it that makes it respond to his needs.

Can't say for sure right now. But I like the idea of Stolas helping out. Especially since th assistance came shortly after Blitzø's line about sucking cloaca.

[mr-not-null]

I rly liked your thoughts about the recent au and can't stop wondering if you have any others you can share?

I feel like its impossible for them to not become friends (lovers) no matter how mucn they can hate each other, even less when their similarities are so clear and when they dont have anyone else to be with

Like Tien doesnt have anyone else but yamcha and he doesnt even like yamcha that much but the little comfort he gives him its enough for him to want more

And yamcha feels pretty much the same way, they both find a new feeling and comfort to "hating" someone new

And tbh i dont think tien could really live the life tao had, he really isnt a bad person so its hard to imagine him really enjoying being bad and even handeling the abuse tsuru and tao put him and chaoz through for a longer time

But atp yamcha and him doesnt know what to do?? They dont have anyone that helps them be better but they do have someone thats as bad a them so ig thats good enough for them

[amoransia]

Chapter 72 spoilers and also insane screaming from me. You have been warned.

Oh LORD we're REALLY in it NOW! Hold me -- literally anybody, hold me!! I don't know if I will survive this arc! (or this manga at all, for that matter!)

Hell yeah, bro, fist bump!

What is in the water over there in the Ekuoto world? Like, genuinely? What are they drinking for them to come out like this? These homosexuals will be the death of me (lovingly).

Interesting how even Barbara and Leah get nicknamed "powerhouses" by Daniel. He uses 主戦力 in the raws which could mean "main military power" but also "main valuable assets"... once again seeing them not by their character but by their value? To be honest, I guess it doesn't mean much when he calls them this once, but I thought it was worth pointing out.

Anyway.

DO YOU HEAR YOURSELF?

Actual insanity lines this chapter. "Of course I'm cute." Hello? I guess being a witch deletes the very concept of shame off your brain? I kind of gaped like an idiot at this one.

30 something year old man to the teenage influencer: I'm cute, duh.

GET A GRIP

Oh boy. "I'll handle Vergilius." This is going to turn into the most doomed yaoi scene in the incoming chapters. And Charlotte is probably getting involved in one way or another. I don't know. I wish her luck, though.

"I wouldn't mind dying for you" oh yeah baybe I am about to do something drastic.

Man What The Fuck

Vergilius heard Dante's suicidal ideation and said, NOT ON MY WATCH!!!

It seems to me that the only thing keeping Dante alive is Vergilius. Because if he has no plans after finally killing him, what else is there for him? Just dying trying to repent for his mistakes? Finally let go? So I guess Vergilius recognizes this and decides he can't die. Because if he dies, then the man he (presumably) loves dies, too.

I saw someone mention this on Twitter: Dante can't live in a world where Vergilius doesn't exist (so he gives up on life when Vergilius is gone) while Vergilius won't accept a world where he and Dante can't live together (and therefore wants to change the world).

Weaow......

I think there's also something to say about Vergilius' childish appearance reflecting some sort of... inner workings of his? Does that make sense? I feel like the constant mention of it is trying to point to something. Like here:

Chapter 20 and 72 respectively.

But I'm not eloquent enough to put this into words. So I'll throw the idea out there instead!

Onto Imuri!

Lol the english translation didn't keep the heart Imuri added in her thoughts. Basically it's the same words but with a heart like "Oh, I've been here with Mr. Priest before ♡" Normally I wouldn't care, but I think this adds to her... character? Maybe? Well, whatever. Not particularly important, but The More You Know!

Imuri encounters Mystery Child!

I will begin by saying that I don't think it's Priest? Imuri herself doesn't think so either, so it's most likely someone else. They're muttering the name Rodrigo, which is curiously the name Belphegor uses when going to Earth in order to investigate marriage. Hm!!!! Inch resting indeed...

Oh, God! These expressions were genuinely heartrending. She really was looking for that sliver of hope -- that her hunch was wrong. That she and Imuri could stay friends. I am heartbroken for Leah. :( (and Barbara, for that matter).

They even try to find a middle ground, too! Barbara tries to find a common goal! They really don't want to exorcize her right now! But Imuri also raises valid points: why wake him to just put him to work again?

But then she says, soo confident in herself: what Priest needs right now is me. I guess she has actual proof of that? But by God it is so egoistical. (A word that describes Imuri quite well...)

KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

MY GIRL! MY GIRL! NEVERMIND WHAT I JUST WROTE, YOU ARE IMMEDIATELY FORGIVEN! (Fallen Priest voice)

She looks 1000x better with her fangs and her demon eyes, damn.

I'm not sure what she wins by revealing herself. She's still powerless, as far as I know. I guess she thinks she can run away with Priest using her come-to-life drawings?

Also FINALLY CONFIRMATION THAT SHE'S RELATED TO SATAN AND LILITH... THANK YOU, GOD. (Odd person to thank. Anyway,) I am well aware this doesn't mean she's like, their daughter or anything (merely related to them), but I really hope she is. It would be hilarious. Please grant me this wish, it would be so funny. (GIVE ME SATAN FATHER-IN-LAW SHENANIGANS!!!!!!!!!)

My friend mentioned that she might be revealing her connections to them in order to scare Leah and Barbara out of trying to exorcize her. After all, they don't know that she's magicless yet, right? So that might make them hesitate.

But in a way, this feels like Imuri is saying "don't you know who my parents are?! Don't mess with me!" LOL. Does this count as some sort of nepotism???

"He'll forgive me with a simple apology!"

Actually insane thinking. Priest-kun will LOSE it when he finds out everything was a lie (and this is probably where BL Satan comes in to tempt him into Wrath).

But yeah this is selfish thinking, typical of her.

I think it's really funny that in the raws "simple apology" is just a "ごめんね", which is kinda like "sorry!"

Girl, you are not getting forgiven with that. It's just not happening. You are not teehee'ing your way out of this one.

Finally..... I am kinda sad it seems we're nearing the end arcs of Ekuoto?(?) I've been following since the very first chapter released in Japanese, so I'll miss it dearly.... Cope: maybe this is the first part, á la Dante's Inferno. Purgatory next! (Zero chance of this happening)

Anyway, good chapter. It hurt me so good. Good chapter. (going insane)

[cent-scratchnsniff]

More sketchy employee profile images. Mostly made to be able to replace the picrew I had in the template I made since I can draw. I did end up just putting it as back and white though but the color is just nice to have. I'm STILL trying to tweak the template since it is very finicky and there is an example of what it looks down below if you're interested. It is a lot. It will happen. I am just not the quickest

There are typos and inconsistencies I missed but in general it should be fine...

[isat-script-project]

ISAT SCRIPT PATCH

[pavlikbuonarroti]

important aspect of samarilevi is that levi is also a girl btw. t4t4t.

[mercurys-messenger]

Din

When you sit alone in the dark for long enough,

You start to hear the echoes of yourself louder and louder.

At first it's dissonant

It's hard to hear a melody in all the awful din

It echoes louder and louder and though no one can hear it it drives you further and further into the dark

"There must be a pit deep enough that I will be welcomed I'm silence"

But the deeper you go the louder it sounds

You push away those around you, even those who seek to help quiet the noise because you are certain that if they hear it

If they get a glimpse of the awful din, the torrent that lives in your chest,

How could they ever want to stay?

You certainly wouldn't

You certainly don't

But the longer you listen, the more you sit with the din,

The more you notice patterns

Little repetitions that harken on themselves and little moments that become predictable

Patterns and rules like music

An illogical kind of logic that has no context for sense other than itself

And since you have no choice but to listen you have no choice but to learn them

Eventually your din becomes an old friend, someone known inside and out

And sometimes

After a while you hear a trace of your own din in someone else

An echo in the distance familiar and foreign

And you trace their pattern before they draw it

And they trace yours before you know it

And you have a harmony in your ugly vast dissonance that calms the storm

No judgment

No pity

No derision

Just a calm that comes from understanding

And though they may not sit with you forever

The time they spend becomes a bouy to cling to

A tuning fork when your din gets too loud

A reminder of your melody

[imflyingfish]

Also its crazy how nobody has called me out or made fun of my blotched speaking on the minecraft server or not. Occasionally they will be confused if i say something dumb but for the most part people habe treated me nicely (aside from when they kill me but whatever)

[dailydegurechaff]

apparently you cant reblog posts with video so here i am responding in a new post (the context here is the tags of this post)

@octomage unfortunately no livestream :( but for you here is 3 and a half minutes of sloppily edited Tanya Unboxing ASMR (it isnt very relaxing) featuring: lots of bad plastic noises, my confusion, the ac running in the background, and a peek at the Tanya Shrine

with this post i will be starting and ending my career as an unboxing youtuber. thank u, u_u <3

[anotherpapercut]

I try to fact check shit before reblogging it especially if there's like a specific statistic or smth bc I'm inherently suspicious of statistics but sometimes i spend so long fact checking something that by the time I get to the actual answer my Tumblr has refreshed and I never see the post again

[black--sun]

The only good thing about being in a crowd is that so many people dropped or got tripped up in other bodies, it’s easy to get lost in fleeing people. Even if some of those people are now trying to flee from him. He doesn’t know how many of them saw him return fire, but he’s sure everyone heard it. 

He gives just enough of a cursory glance down to see that most of his blood is on Shiro and not the ground. He’s not sure if they’ll bother testing it and he’s not sure if they have anything to match it to. But that’s a concern for later. So much for Shiro owning the cops. Or these cops anyway. His gaze returns to scanning the street as they move. 

“Go.” He doubts Shiro needs to be told. “You’re driving.” He keeps most of his attention behind them. There are a lot of other people and Ichigo doesn’t know enough of the players in Shiro’s game to be able to identify hardly any of them. 

Ichigo snorts. “We’ll see.” He hasn’t given much thought to his side beyond the practical. It’s hardly priority while they might take more fire, even if it is serious, and he’s doubting it. More likely he thinks something might’ve broken, but a lot of injuries feel that way. Ichigo follows at a jog on Shiro’s heels, and finally that wound is getting more insistent about demanding his attention. He starts the car when it’s in sight, smearing blood across his fob. He makes it into the car first and drops the keys into the center console, finally wincing as he reaches into his jacket to check the damage.

There's so much more chaos in this than he thought there would be. He didn't think they'd open fire into a crowd so readily. It's crazy. And people think he's a danger and a menace to society.

He's too busy searching to look back at Ichigo when he asks that question. "No," He tries to twist further, but Ichigo has him pretty well pinned. If it were anyone else, he would not be tolerating this so well. "But that cop- The one I was talkin' to-" Maybe it's nothing, but maybe it's something, and he rarely second guesses himself.

He half sits up when Ichigo raises into a crouch over him. If they weren't in the middle of the street being shot at, this would be hot as fuck. Even with what's going on, it's pretty damn attractive. His hand shifts, re-gripping a little lower in Ichigo's jacket. "It's not." That jacket was supposed to stop a bullet. Why is Ichigo bleeding? It's not fine. "Stop tellin' me what to do." It's habit and nothing more, because he stays right where he is, attention lingering on Ichigo before turning outward again.

Then Ichigo's straightening further over him and honestly he likes that less than being pinned under his weight. He gets his feet under him, slow to straighten at Ichigo's side, reluctant to let go of the jacket, let alone leave space between them. He stays low, but not much lower than Ichigo. His attention swings in the same direction as Ichigo's, gaze finding and anchoring on that fucking cop. He sneers as that sidearm starts to come up, not surprised and not happy. Before anything more can happen, Ichigo fires first. The cop drops. That's definitely not who started shooting first though.

"No shit." He agrees when Ichigo decides it's time to go. This was a stupid idea, he's pretty willing to admit that, but they wouldn't have known there was police involvement if they hadn't come. He accepts the help the rest of the way to his feet. "Bathroom stitches for old time's sake?" He gestures towards Ichigo's side, before his attention turns outward, still watchful. It doesn't take prompting to have him moving towards Ichigo's car.

[chosove]

*tw!!! daddy kink!!! + a lotttt of size kink stuff!!! fem bodied reader*

I know he gets such a like…almost ‘selfish lover’ rep but in my humble daddy issue biased opinion, toji would 100% talk you through it like…

Everyone already finds him so intimidating, if not from his stature and general appearance, its his gruff voice and combative personality. He doesnt even mean to do it, he just always has that trademark scowl on his face that makes people afraid to say excuse me in grocery stores :(

Not you though, you still served him with your bright smile as he checked out of the store. You asked how he was and giggled at his flirty response of ‘why, ya wanna make my day better?’. I mean…other than his kids he never had people willingly make small talk with him, let alone laugh at his old man jokes.

Godddd he just gets so flustered when you look at him with your big doe eyes and say have a fantastic day :(

Thats why when he sees you on the dating app megumi downloaded for him (against his will), he feels his heart skip a beat. I just know he’s all nervous, thinking how dirty he is as a self proclaimed ‘old man’ finding such a pretty young thing attractive- i mean you could literally be his daughter. All these worried thoughts flitted through his head while he tried to decide, not realizing his thumb was just a littttttlllleeeee too close to the screen as he accidentally matched with you.

Oh.

Oh.

I mean it was an accident for him, but was it an accident for you? It couldnt be if you were texting him already, a message reading “hey there stranger :)” popping up on his phone.

And when you liked his simple response of “Hello.”, responding with “anything i can do to make your night better, toji?”, that couldnt just be a typo or misclick, right?

You made him feel like a teenager again, the butterflies he felt only becoming more intense when you asked him to come over n’ tell you in person :( he nearly jumped out of his skin trying to get ready, hands fumbling with that pinstripe button-up he’d been saving for something special (gumi’s grad or….i guess his first date in forever). It was only at times like this he wished he had someone to call to help him chill out.

Maybe after tonight that’d be you though? He hoped so at least, and even when you pulled him into your apartment, pushing him on the couch while he stuttered about getting to know each other first, he knew you were the girl for him.

It did take a while for him to actually get up to your speed- he didnt wanna break you or anything. You were just so, so desperate for him, tugging at his shirt while you grinded your clothed cunt against his beefy thighs, filthy words coming out of your mouth only making it harder for toji to take it slow with you.

“God you’re so big toji, feel like even jus’ your fingers can split me in half.”

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you, knew you’d treat me better than all the guys my age. Ya gonna fuck me right toji? Please?”

“C’mon toji…know you wanna breed me, bet it’ll only take one time for me to give you a baby. D’you want that daddy?”

It was no later you said that word that he was picking you up, throwing you onto the tiny mattress your studio apartment held. Yeah, he definitely wasnt getting out of this alive- but neither were you judging by the way his big hands began to unbuckle his belt, unzipping the pants you so graciously left a giant wet stain on, the outline of his cock in his boxers making your mouth water.

“See what ya do to me, pretty?” His deep voice spoke, one hand giving his throbbing dick a few much-needed strokes while he stared down at you like a wolf. “Nothin’ to say anymore, hm? C’mon, i liked hearing it all.”

He hadnt even pressed himself against you before you let out a whine, his hands resting themselves on your sides already being enough to make your hips jump. If it weren’t for the fact he was now intent on hearing more of those pretty sounds from you, he’d have let out a whine himself from how soft your skin felt against his worked hands. And when he slowly pulled your panties down your thighs, clenching his jaw at the sight of strands of wetness sticking to your pussy, he nearly came in his pants.

“Poor girl, bet this sweet pussy hasnt been treated right in forever hm?” The question nearly brought tears to your eyes, both from the truth of it and from the fact he began to thumb at your glistening cunt, the rough pad of his finger being the exact pressure you needed on your pulsing bundle of nerves. “T-toji i might cum alr-”you began, but you werent able to get your sentence out before his hand came down to slap against your cunt.

“What happened to my good girl from earlier? Y’know not to call me toji, little bird. Whats my name?” He whispered against the shell of your ear, fingers covered in your wetness now coming to play with your hard nipples.

Clinging to his shaggy hair like it was your lifeline, you nearly cried out as you came undone for him, the desperate moan of ‘thank you daddy’ falling from your lips. He smiled as you writhed below him, your body convulsing while he let you ride what would be the first of many orgasms that night.

[velarisdusk]

Cursed Flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

word count: 8k content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), biting, oral fixation, enemies to lovers (as much lovers as I could fit into an 8k fic) | mentions of: blood, attempted murder via witch curse | strong language ] summary: When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them. author's note: SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS ONE!!!!!!! i received this ask a bit ago and i couldn't wait to write it. i hope you all enjoy! as per usual, no beta, so if you see any typos no you didnt ✦ . Masterlist . ✦

The shop is a warm refuge in the heart of the Autumn Court, its walls painted a calming sage green and lined with shelves filled with jars of dried herbs and roots. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting soft, golden light on a thick, woven rug. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet crackle of a low fire in the hearth.

You move methodically around the shop, stocking freshly dried herbs on the shelves. Your fingers brush over the labels, ensuring everything is in its place. The rhythmic work is soothing—a welcome distraction.

Reaching up to place a jar on the top shelf, you're caught off guard when the door suddenly slams open. The force of it startles you, and you instinctively drop the pendant of your necklace from your mouth as you spin around to face the intruder.

Eris Vanserra stands in the doorway, his usually pristine appearance disheveled, his skin pale and lips tinged with an unhealthy shade of blue. He looks unwell — like something is gnawing away at him from the inside out.

“Looking a little paler than usual,” you murmur, your tone caught between concern and the dry sarcasm that usually colors your interactions with him. But even as you speak, you’re already moving toward him, instinctively assessing his condition. Grabbing your tools, you hurry to where Eris has collapsed into the armchair by the hearth.

“What happened?” you ask, scanning him for visible injuries but finding none. “When did this start?”

Eris leans back, his breathing labored, and then he coughs violently, a splatter of blood staining his hand. He looks at it with shock and frustration.

“Tell me everything,” you demand, already rifling through your supplies for anything that could help diagnose whatever this is. “What did you eat? Drink? Did you come into contact with anything unusual?”

His eyes narrow in irritation as you continue to probe. “Why does it matter? Just heal me and I’ll be on my way.”

You give him an incredulous look, stunned by the sheer stupidity of his question. 

“What…? Mother above- if you want me to help, I need to know what’s causing this. Did you encounter any dark magic?”

You move to check his pulse, frowning at the erratic rhythm and his lack of response. “If you’re going to be like that, just go to your family’s healer,” you mutter, not bothering to hide your irritation. You place the back of your hand on his forehead, noting the strange combination of cool skin and unnatural heat radiating from his chest.

“Do you think I’m here because I’d like to be?” Eris snaps, coughing again, though this time with less blood.

You ignore his tone, turning your attention to the herbs and ingredients at your disposal. After a few minutes of methodically preparing and steeping the herbs, you hand him a steaming cup. “Drink this,” you instruct.

He takes the cup but eyed it skeptically. “What is it?”

“It’ll react if there’s poison in your system,” you explain, your tone firm as you watch him closely, waiting. 

He lifts the cup reluctantly, sipping as you hover your hands over his chest, closing your eyes to focus on sensing any magical disturbances. “Why can’t you see your family’s healer?” you ask, murmuring a chant under your breath as you work.

“He’s busy,” Eris replies tightly, though his expression suggests there’s more to the story.

You press your lips together as you complete your chant, waiting for any sign of magic—an aura, a pulse of energy, anything. But there’s nothing. Frustration wells up, and you move to the shelves, selecting a vial of a potent potion that reveals the presence of dark spells. You hand it to him, but before you can tell him to wait, he lifts the vial to his lips. 

“Wait—” you start, but it’s too late. He drinks the contents of the vial, grimacing at the taste as he swallows. 

The dark tendrils of the potion begin to swirl beneath his skin, their movement barely noticeable through the fabric of his shirt. Panic surges through you, and without thinking, you reach forward and rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere. 

Eris recoils slightly, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “Do you have any idea how much that shirt costs? More than you make in a month, I’d wager.”

You shoot him a sharp glare, not bothering to hide your exasperation. “Definitely not as much as making that potion cost me,” you retort, focusing on the dark tendrils now clearly visible beneath his skin. The potion is reacting to something, though it’s still not enough to fully reveal what’s wrong. 

Eris glares at you, but before he can respond, another wave of pain hits him, forcing a troubling series of coughs out of him. This time, blood stains his lips, and the dark tendrils pulse ominously with the movement. 

Ignoring his earlier complaint, you press your hand against his chest, feeling the unnatural heat beneath your fingertips. The tendrils shift and twist just beneath the surface of his skin as if something dark is trying to break free. “Are you usually this hot?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you watch the tendrils fade back into nothingness.

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk, despite his condition. “I wasn’t aware you found me so irresistible,” he drawls, his tone laced with that familiar cocky arrogance.

You roll your eyes, not even dignifying his comment with a response, refocusing on the task at hand.

With a sigh, you grab the vial from him and set it aside, biting your thumbnail as you wrack your brain for ideas. You decide to turn to a more traditional method. “Stand up,” you instruct, grabbing a fresh egg from a small basket. Eris raises an eyebrow, but you don’t give him a chance to question it. “I’m going to perform an egg cleanse. It’s an old method, but it’s effective for detecting curses.”

He complies, albeit reluctantly, standing from the chair. You glance up at him, realizing you can’t quite reach the top of his head. “Bend your knees a bit. I can’t reach that high.”

Eris smirks, but obliges, lowering himself slightly so you can reach the crown of his head. You begin by holding the egg just above his scalp, moving it slowly around the top of his head and down his neck. You notice his jaw clench, the muscles tightening under your careful movements. 

You continue to work your way down, the egg warming slightly in your hand as it absorbs the negative energy. The air feels thick with tension as you move the egg over his shoulders and bare chest, noticing how he tenses when you pass it over his thighs. His body reacts subtly, with a slight shift in posture, a clenching of his fist at his side, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure. 

“Anything yet?” Eris presses, his tone light, almost as if he’s making conversation, but you can hear the underlying tension. “Or are you just playing with eggs for fun?”

“Hold still,” you mutter, ignoring his jab as you complete the cleanse. When you reach his feet, you pause, feeling the unsettling energy still clinging to the egg in your hand. You ask him to lift each foot slightly so you can pass the egg underneath. He does so with a small huff of annoyance, muttering something you couldn’t bother yourself to care about. 

Finally, you finish the cleanse, bringing the egg back up to his head and closing the circle. The egg feels heavier in your hand now, almost throbbing with the energy it’s absorbed. You step back, holding the egg up to the light, examining it carefully. 

“What are you seeing?” he asks, his voice steady, but you catch the edge of something beneath the calm facade. “What’s wrong?”

With a frown, you walk to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water. Eris watches you, curiosity and impatience on his face as you crack the egg into the glass.

The moment the shell breaks, your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a physical blow. The web-like structures forming in the egg’s whites, the dark red blood swirling through the yolk—they aren’t just signs of any curse. They’re markers, symbols that reveal the curse’s origin. A curse that dark, that potent, could only come from someone with a deep, intimate connection to the target. Someone who shares his blood.

Eris leans over your shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “That’s not normal, is it?” he asks, his tone still deceptively casual, but you can hear the sharp edge of concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the cursed egg. “No,” you reply, your voice low and tense. “Eris,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of your discovery settles in. “This… this isn’t just any curse. It was arranged by someone who’s tied to you by blood. They must have paid a witch to curse you.”

His eyes widen, the casual facade slipping as your words sink in. He straightens, stepping back as if physically recoiling from the truth. For a moment, he’s silent, his usually sharp mind racing to process what you’ve just told him. But the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench into fists, betrays the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“One of my brothers,” he murmurs, his voice low and deadly. There’s no question in his tone, only cold, calculated fury. The possibility of betrayal from within his own bloodline cuts deep, and you can see it in the way his expression darkens, in the way his shoulders stiffen as if preparing for battle.

You nod slowly, still staring at the cursed egg, your mind racing as you try to make sense of it all. “Whoever did this didn’t just want to hurt you—the curse is meant to kill, Eris.”

His gaze flickers back to you, and for a brief moment, you see something vulnerable in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. But then it’s gone, replaced by the cold determination that you’ve come to expect from him.

As you stare at the cursed egg’s results, frustration and determination mix in your mind. You need to figure out where the curse is coming from. “Wait here,” you tell him, already moving towards the shelves.

You start rummaging through your collection of enchanted tools and artifacts. You pull out a magnifying glass with runes etched into its frame—designed to detect magical auras. With it, you examine the egg’s remnants, trying to find any additional clues. Still focused, you then grab a small jar of salt, used for creating protective circles, and a vial of basic anti-magic tincture.

You hold the magnifying glass over Eris’s body, carefully examining for any magical disturbances. The glass shows a faint, dark aura around his entire form, but it’s still unclear where the source is. The salt is meant to amplify magical reactions, so you grab the jar and sprinkle some in a protective circle around him. As you observe, the dark aura becomes more pronounced, shifting and swirling. Still, it’s not pinpointed enough to identify the exact source of the curse.

You then use the anti-magic tincture, dabbing it on various parts of him: his hands, shoulders, his ankles, and on his clothing. The tincture reacts, but again, it does not specify where the curse is anchored. You decide to turn to a more direct method.

You remove one of the rings from Eris’s hand, placing it on a small tray before examining it closely with the magnifying glass. The ring is stunning, with a polished tiger’s eye stone that seems to capture and reflect the light with every movement. The stone is set in intricately crafted silver, engraved with delicate, swirling patterns reminiscent of flames. It’s a ring befitting Eris Vanserra—elegant yet undeniably powerful. This time, you notice the dark tendrils of magic intensify around the ring, more clearly than on the other items.

“This ring,” you say, realization dawning as you see the dark magic swirling more intensely, “Have you given it to anyone lately?”

Eris’s brows furrow in confusion. “No, why would I do that? It’s one of my favorites.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms and biting your lip in thought. “Are you sure? Any recent changes, anyone who might have had access to it?”

He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. “I—well, I didn’t give it to anyone, but…” He sighs, sitting back down and looking down at the ring. “I woke up one morning and found it missing from my jewelry box. I only found it a few days later, yesterday, under the dresser.”

You nod, your mind racing with the implications. “That’s significant. The timing fits with when the curse seems to have taken hold. It’s likely that someone who knew about the ring might have tampered with it.” Eris’s expression darkens, and he clenches his jaw.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Luckily, it seems whoever cast this curse used extremely rudimentary techniques. I should be able to take care of it relatively easily… Go lie down in the back room,” you tell him, pointing at the door behind the front counter. “I’ll be there in a bit with what I need to start the healing process.”

Eris nods and heads to the back room, his demeanor more subdued now. As he disappears behind the door, you turn back to the counter, gathering the rest of your supplies. The task ahead is daunting, but you’re determined to see it through.

As he disappears into the back room, you take a deep breath, centering yourself as you gather the necessary items for the healing process. Your mind is consumed with the details of what you need, and you absentmindedly reach for a pen from the counter, sliding the end of it between your lips as you think through your list—cleansing herbs, protective talismans, and special antidotes to counteract the curse. You pull out a small wooden box and start preparing the mixtures, setting out vials and jars with practiced ease. 

You move through the shop, grabbing the fresh batch of herbs and an old family recipe for a purification salve. As you’re about to head to the back room, you pause, realizing you need one more item. You hastily grab a small vial of enchanted water, known for its potency in breaking curses.

With everything in hand, you head towards the back room, your nerves steeling for the task ahead. You open the door and step inside, where Eris is lying on the sofa, looking more subdued and less defiant.

“Alright,” you say, laying out the items on a nearby table. “I need you to strip, so I can massage the salve into your skin.”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his posture relaxed despite his condition. He lounges on the plush sofa, the luxurious fabric seeming to contrast sharply with his unwell state. He is draped elegantly over the cushions, looking effortlessly refined even in his weakened state. “Are you always so forward with your clients?” he asks, a lazy, yet sardonic smile playing on his lips.

You shoot him a wry smile. “Only the ones who show up at my door covered in curses. I promise, I’ll try to keep it as professional as possible.”

Eris arches an eyebrow, glancing down at his torn shirt before meeting your eyes with a smirk. “I’ll be curious to see just how ‘professional’ you manage to be, given the state of my shirt.”

“I suppose my attempt at professionalism might seem a bit questionable after that,” you respond, trying to match his playful tone. “But given the circumstances, I promise to keep my focus on getting you sorted out.”

Eris smirks, clearly entertained by your response. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, making no move to cover up as he removes his shirt. He casually kicks off his boots and slips out of his pants. He starts to remove his underwear, but you quickly hold up a hand, a hint of discomfort in your voice.

“Uh, you can keep those on,” you say, your tone awkward. “I really don’t need to see more of you than I already have.”

Eris raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back on the sofa in his remaining attire. He stretches out, his posture relaxed despite his state.

You try to maintain your composure as you prepare to apply the salve, aware of the subtle flush on your cheeks at the sight of him.

You take the salve and begin applying it to his skin, your hands gliding over the thick, soothing mixture. The salve is warm and slightly sticky, and you work it into his flesh with careful, deliberate strokes. His skin is pale and warm under your touch, marked with faint, livid lines where the curse has taken hold. Despite his condition, his muscles are firm and well-defined.

You try to focus on the task, but the proximity and the intimate nature of your work make your cheeks flush. Your hands move methodically, spreading the salve evenly over his torso, smoothing it into every defined contour. The tension in the room is almost tangible, and you do your best to maintain your composure, concentrating on the rhythm of your movements.

After a few minutes, you glance up at Eris, only to find him watching you with a smirk. You assume he’s noticed your nervousness and it makes your blush deepen, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks.

You hum as if asking “What?”, but it comes out a bit strained.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound low and knowing. “What’s the pendant on your necklace?”

You pause, momentarily distracted by his question. You glance down at the pendant but realize you’ve been toying with it between your teeth. You drop it, a sleek piece of black tourmaline set in a delicate silver setting. It catches the light, its dark, glossy surface reflecting an eerie, protective shimmer. “It’s black tourmaline,” you explain, trying to keep your voice steady as you wipe your hand on the skirt of your dress. “It’s known for protection.” 

You reach up and carefully open the locket, revealing a small, intricately illustrated image nestled inside. The illustration depicts you and a scruffy little dog, your faces pressed close together. His warm brown eyes are visible, reflecting the affection between you. The artist’s delicate strokes bring out the softness and warmth of the scene, with a gentle, glowing quality.

“Here,” you say, offering the locket for Eris to see. “That’s my dog, Cedar. He’s my best friend.”

Eris glances at the illustration and raises an eyebrow. “Cute dog,” he remarks, his voice softening slightly. He takes a moment to admire it before you close the locket and turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You resume applying the salve, your hands moving carefully over his thighs. Your proximity is close, and you can’t help but be aware of the intimate nature of the task.

Eris breaks the silence, his tone is casual yet curious. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a dog person. What’s he like?”

You continue working the salve into his skin, your hands deftly spreading it. “Cedar? He’s a little bundle of energy. Loves to play and is always up for an adventure. Not very fond of arrogant redheads.”

Eris chuckles softly. “Sounds like quite a character. I’ve got a few ghost hounds myself. Jasper’s the mischievous one, Ember’s more reserved but loyal, and Thorne... well, he’s a bit of a troublemaker. They each have their own quirks, but they’re a handful.” He smiles faintly, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You nod, trying to focus on the salve while managing the awkward proximity. “Sounds like they’re quite a pack.”

Eris’s eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and affection as he regards you. “They are. All twelve of them.”

You clear your throat, doing your best to shake off the distraction of Eris’s body under your hands. “Twelve? That’s… quite a lot,” you manage to say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how flustered you are.

Eris gives a small, almost smug nod. “They’re quite the company.”

You force a small smile, quickly refocusing on the task at hand before your scent gives you away. “Alright, I need you to flip over so I can get your back,” you instruct, your voice steadier now.

Eris moves with a grace that belies the curse’s toll, turning onto his stomach. As he settles, you catch yourself marveling at the expanse of his back, the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. You work the salve into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward. Your fingers glide over the planes of his back, kneading the thick mixture into his skin with slow, deliberate motions.

When you reach his lower back, you can’t help but notice how firm and tight his muscles are. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the task and not on how ridiculously sculpted he is. This close, his scent—woodsy and warm, with a hint of spice—mixes with the herbs of the salve, creating an intoxicating blend that makes your heart race.

With the salve fully applied, you stand and step back, wiping your hands on a cloth. You retrieve the small vial of enchanted water from your supplies. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, a sign of its potency.

You kneel beside Eris and unstopper the vial, letting a few drops spill into your palm. “This will help neutralize any residual dark magic,” you explain, mostly to fill the silence as you pour the water into your hands. It’s cool to the touch, sending a slight tingle through your fingers.

Gently, you begin to rub the enchanted water into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward again. You feel a faint warmth where the water touches his skin, a sign that the curse is reacting to the cleansing magic. You mutter a soft incantation under your breath as you work, tracing the lines of his muscles with your fingertips to ensure the water reaches every part of him.

Eris lies still beneath you, but you can sense his awareness of your every move. The tension between you is palpable, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. But you focus on your work, pushing aside the awkwardness.

You clear your throat softly. “Flip back over. I need to do your front.”

Eris obliges, rolling onto his back again. As you begin to apply the enchanted water to his chest, your hands instinctively move in slow, deliberate circles. The cool liquid glides over the hard planes of his abs and pecs, and you find yourself distracted by the feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips. His skin is smooth, marred only by the faint, dark lines of the curse, but the tautness of his body is impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts begin to wander, unbidden. The definition of his abs under your touch, the way his chest rises and falls steadily with each breath, the heat radiating from him despite the coolness of the water—all of it feels too intimate, too close. You lose yourself in the rhythm of the massage, each movement deliberate, but tinged with an awareness you wish you could ignore.

When you finally finish applying the water, you take a step back and wipe your hands again. “That should do it,” you say, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. “Now we just need to give it time to work.”

Eris slowly sits up, his movements careful and deliberate. He glances at you, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softens. "Thank you," he says quietly, the words carrying a weight that surprises you.

You nod, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Just... make sure you rest. The curse should start breaking down now, but you'll need time to recover-"

Eris cuts you off, his tone turning teasing as he leans forward. "You always seem to be keeping that mouth of yours busy, don't you?"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden comment. "Excuse me?"

His gaze drops pointedly to your hand, and it's only then that you realize your thumbnail is between your teeth. You quickly pull it away, trying to mask your embarrassment with a frown. "I wasn't-"

"Oh, you were," he interrupts, the smirk playing on his lips growing. "First your necklace, now your nails. And don't think I didn't notice you biting your lip earlier. Tell me, is this a nervous habit or something else?"

You huff, the irritation building slowly. "It's nothing. Just a habit, alright?"

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's dissecting your every move. "A habit, hmm? Interesting."

You roll your eyes, exasperation creeping into your tone. "Look, it's really none of your business. I just did you a favor, saving your life; can't you drop the smart remarks for once?"

Eris's smirk doesn't waver. "A favor? Let's not pretend you didn't enjoy getting your hands all over me," he says, his voice dripping with mockery. "You were practically drooling over me."

Your face burns, and you take a step forward, anger and embarrassment now battling for dominance. "I was doing my job, Eris. If I took any extra care, it was because I had to-your life was in my hands, not because I wanted to."

He arches an eyebrow, clearly amused by your rising frustration. "So you admit you were being thorough."

You let out a frustrated breath, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're insufferable, you know that? Not everything is about you."

His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. “If it’s just a job, then why do you look like you’ve been caught red-handed?”

Your eyes widen at his insinuation, and you struggle to find a retort, feeling both flustered and infuriated by his smugness.

Your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his gaze, the raw challenge in his words. "What does it matter to you?" you snap back, though your voice falters, the heat of the moment starting to overwhelm you. "You're just trying to get under my skin."

Eris's gaze flickers to your lips, and you feel the air between you grow heavy, charged with an undeniable tension. "Maybe I am," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Or maybe I'm just waiting for you to admit you want this as much as I do."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you, the magnetic pull between you impossible to ignore. You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat in your cheeks. "You don't really want this," you retort, your voice coming out more uncertain than you intended.

Eris's smirk widens, and he stands impossibly close to you, his eyes dark with intensity. "Oh, but I do."

You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance and desire. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris responds to your challenge with a fierce intensity. He closes the space between you with a sudden, forceful kiss that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is a wild, heated clash of desire and frustration.

Your lips meet with a ferocity that makes your head spin, his hands gripping your face as if he's afraid you might pull away. His mouth moves against yours with a demanding urgency, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours. The kiss is rough, almost desperate, as if he's trying to prove something with every touch.

You feel his teeth nip at your lower lip, sharp and insistent, and the sudden spark of pain only intensifies the heat between you. Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer if possible, as if trying to merge your bodies together.

Eris's fingers tangle in your hair, his grip firm as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His movements are driven by a raw, unrestrained need, and you can feel his breath come in ragged gasps against your skin. Each touch, each movement is a battle, a clash of passion and frustration.

You respond in kind, your own fingers digging into his scalp, your nails scratching lightly as you try to keep up with the fierce pace he sets. The kiss is a war of wills, a struggle for dominance that leaves you both breathless and hungry for more.

Finally, the intensity of the kiss subsides, but only slightly. You pull away just enough to look into each other's eyes, both of you panting heavily, faces flushed. The moment is charged with an electric tension, a mix of anger and desire that hangs in the air between you.

Eris's eyes are dark and intense as he stares at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that proof enough?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

Your lips slam into his again, and you press your body against his with a forceful urgency, your hands roaming over his bare torso. Eris’s initial surprise quickly turns into fervor. His hands move over your back and sides, his touch rough but deliberate. His fingers brush along the fabric of your dress, tugging it slightly as he pulls you closer. His hands glide over your waist, up your sides, and finally settle at the small of your back, pulling you so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his smooth skin, and you can’t help but dig your nails in slightly, relishing the shudder that ripples through him.

“You’re such a pain,” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathy but laced with irritation. “Always so arrogant, thinking everyone wants you.”

Eris’s response is a low growl, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he pulls back just enough to look at you. “And yet here you were, begging me to strip under the guise of helping me. I guess my arrogance isn’t so misplaced after all.”

Your retort is immediate, biting. “Guise? I did help you, don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you—it’s about shutting you up.” You punctuate your words by biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure.

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? That this is just about shutting me up?” His grip on your hips tightens, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know you’re enjoying this.”

You shove him back slightly, just enough to regain some space, your chest heaving with both desire and defiance. “You’re delusional. If anything, I’m doing this to prove you wrong.” But even as you say it, your hands are already trailing lower, brushing over the hard lines of his abdomen, testing his resolve.

Eris’s smirk never falters. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice thick with lust and challenge. “But we both know the truth—you can’t resist me any more than I can resist you.”

“Resist?” You scoff, though your voice wavers with the intensity of the moment. “Who said anything about resisting? Maybe I’m just enjoying the moment before I throw you out.”

His eyes darken further, a primal edge sharpening his features. “You talk a big game, but I can feel how much you’re into this.” His hand slides up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress’s long skirt aside with  forceful impatience. “Or do you want me to stop and see if you beg?”

You meet his challenge head-on, your eyes blazing. “Beg? I’d rather die.”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand continues its relentless exploration. “We’ll see.”

With that, he kisses you again, the force of it pushing you both back until you’re pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that makes your head spin. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans into your mouth, his own grip on you tightening as the need between you becomes impossible to ignore.

"You're insufferable," you hiss, though your fingers are still digging into his skin, still trailing over the hard lines of his chest.

Eris’s mouth swallows your frustrated words. “Then shut me up,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with challenge.

You take the bait, pulling him closer as you bite down on his lip again, harder this time, drawing a low groan from him. His hands slip under your dress, the roughness of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. “That all you’ve got?” he taunts, his voice ragged.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locked with his in a heated stare. “I can do a lot more than that,” you shoot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

“Prove it,” he snarls, his hands tightening on your hips as if daring you to push the boundaries further.

Your gaze never wavers from his as you slowly begin to sink to your knees in front of him. Eris's breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and something else, something far more primal.

“Careful,” he warns, though there’s a rough edge to his voice that betrays his anticipation. “You might find yourself in over your head.”

You smirk, defiant as ever. “I’m sure I can handle you,” you say, your voice low and challenging as you settle in front of him, pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock. It springs up, slapping against his skin. Eris's breath catches again, this time more audibly, as your fingers wrap around him, the warmth of your touch eliciting a shudder from him. For a moment, the air between you is charged, thick with tension. His fiery gaze locks onto yours, his usual cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Is that so?” His voice is a rasp, heavy with lust, yet there's still a trace of his usual arrogance, as if he’s not entirely convinced you know what you’re getting into. His hand slides into your hair, not quite a caress but not entirely a threat either.

You look up at him through your lashes, your smirk never fading as you lean in, the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Eris's grip tightens involuntarily, and you feel a surge of satisfaction at the way his control is already starting to slip.

“Keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to stop myself,” he growls. But you don’t intend to stop. You want to see him unravel, to take him apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of his carefully constructed composure. Your mouth closes around him, taking him deeper, your movements slow, savoring the way he swears under his breath, his hips jerking slightly as if he can’t help but respond to the pleasure you’re giving him.

“Fuck,” he mutters and braces his hand against the wall as you cup his balls. The last of his restraint frays as you take him deeper, the heat of your mouth and the slick glide of your tongue driving him mad with pleasure.

His dominance, his ever-present need to be in control, is slipping through his fingers, and you can see it in the way his eyes flutter shut, in the way his head tips back, exposing the strong line of his throat. You’re pushing him closer and closer to the brink, and the power you feel at this moment is intoxicating, heady, and utterly addictive.

His hand tightens in your hair, and just as you feel like you’ve taken control, he pulls you back with a sudden, forceful yank. The motion is swift, leaving you gasping as he tilts your head up, pressing it back against the wall. His eyes, dark and wild, lock onto yours, and you can see the moment he decides to take the power back.

Without a word, he thrusts forward, his cock pushing past your lips in a smooth, deliberate motion, filling your mouth completely. The sensation is overwhelming—the taste of him, the pressure, the way his hips move with a raw, unrestrained need. He’s no longer holding back, no longer letting you lead.

His hand in your hair tightens even more, holding you firmly in place as he begins to fuck your mouth, each thrust rougher, more demanding than the last. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting to maintain some semblance of control, but it’s slipping fast, and you know you’re the one driving him to this point.

“Is this what you needed?” he growls, his voice rough with the thrill of dominance. “Always biting your nails, playing with that necklace... I knew you needed something more to keep that mouth of yours busy.”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the dark thrill only intensifying your desire. You try to nod, but his grip holds you in place, his cock filling your mouth completely, muffling any response you could give. The way he’s watching you, eyes narrowed, intense, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Tell me,” he demands, thrusting deeper, his voice low and laced with a dark satisfaction. “You like this better, don’t you? Better than biting down on that lip of yours? You’d rather be sucking my cock, wouldn’t you?”

The words, the sheer audacity of his tone, make you whimper around him, the sound vibrating through your throat, and his grip tightens almost possessively in response. His thrusts become more erratic, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the friction, the heat building between you until it’s all-consuming.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of mockery and admiration. “So desperate to keep your mouth busy. Is this what you’ve been wanting all along? Something to fill that pretty little mouth, something to keep you from biting down so hard?”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and the way he shudders makes you feel a surge of satisfaction. You’re pushing him right to the edge, and he knows it, the way his hips snap forward betraying how close he is to losing control entirely.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “You feel so fucking good—taking me so well. Just like that. Keep going, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about looking for something to occupy that pretty little mouth with ever again.”

His words send you spiraling, your own desire mounting as you submit to his dominance. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the desperation in his movements telling you just how close he is to unraveling completely. His grip on your hair is almost punishing, but the way he’s losing himself in you is worth every second of it.

“Do you like this?” he taunts, his voice low and rough. “Better than anything else you’ve ever had between those lips?”

And just as you sense he’s about to tip over the edge, he pulls back, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and lust as he tries to regain control.  But it’s too late—he’s already there, the pleasure too overwhelming to stop. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps his hand around his slick cock as he strokes himself to completion.

His hips jerk as he comes, hot and thick, painting your lips and tongue with his release. The taste of him floods your senses, salty and rich, and you can’t help but savor it, holding his gaze as you swallow every last drop. The look on his face is pure, unrestrained satisfaction, but there’s still that edge of frustration, like he’s not quite finished with you yet.

Before you can react, he hauls you to your feet, his grip firm, almost possessive. His eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth, gathering the last traces of his release. The movement is deliberate, his expression dark and unreadable as he holds his thumb in front of your lips.

“Open,” he commands, his voice rough, and without hesitation, you part your lips, sucking his thumb clean. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, and the way his eyes darken tells you he’s watching every second, every subtle movement.

His thumb slides free from your mouth, and for a moment, there’s a heavy silence between you, charged with the aftermath of what just happened and the unspoken promise of what’s to come next. Eris’s chest heaves with each breath, but the hunger in his eyes hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s only grown stronger, the intensity between you far from spent.

Eris’s hands find the laces on the back of your dress, his fingers deft as he begins to undo them, each tug of the fabric sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. His breath is still heavy, uneven, but there's a renewed focus in his movements, a meticulousness that makes your pulse quicken. The dress loosens gradually, the cool air hitting your skin as he exposes more and more of you, and the sensation of his fingers grazing your back is maddening.

You can take in the sight of him now—bare, unrestrained, his usual elegance stripped away—it sends a jolt of desire through you. But before you can revel in it, his hands are on you again, rougher this time, pulling the dress down your body until it pools at your feet.

His eyes drink you in, taking in every inch of your now-exposed skin, and the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch. There’s something almost reverent in his gaze, but it’s laced with a hunger that promises he’s far from done with you. He steps closer, and the heat radiating off him is palpable, his chest brushing against yours as he reaches down between your bodies, his hand yanking your underwear down and finding its way to your core.

Your hand slips between you, stroking him, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His fingers slide against you, a delicious friction that makes you gasp, your grip on him tightening reflexively in response. His eyes are half-lidded as he reaches behind you to undo the clasps of your bra, focused entirely on the way your body responds to him, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a reminder that despite the edge you’d gained, he’s still every bit as dangerous, every bit as intoxicating.

With a growl, Eris suddenly lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he presses you back against the wall. The cool surface contrasts sharply with the heat of his body, and the sensation is almost overwhelming, his hard length brushing against your inner thigh, teasing, tormenting. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained need as he grinds against you, his hand still between your legs, stoking the fire that’s been burning between you both from the start.

And then, with a swift, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, and everything else falls away—the tension, the teasing, the power struggle—until all that’s left is the raw, unrelenting desire that neither of you can deny any longer. He’s relentless, driving into you with a raw, primal need that matches your own, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slide of him inside you, fills the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans you can’t suppress.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bites down just hard enough to make you gasp, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a way that only intensifies the sensation. His voice is rough, laced with a dark satisfaction as if he’s finally giving you what you’ve been daring him to unleash. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you snap back, but your voice comes out breathless, betraying how much you’re already unraveling. His words send a thrill through you, the taunting, the edge of danger in his tone only making you want him more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks on his skin as you try to meet his thrusts, the pressure building inside you almost unbearable.

He smirks against your throat, his breath hot and uneven. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your pulse point before he bites down again, harder this time. “You want me to break you, don’t you?”

Your hands fist in his hair, yanking his head back so you can meet his gaze, the defiance in your eyes only fueling the fire between you. “Shut up,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the force of your impending release. 

A dark chuckle escapes him, and he slams into you harder, the movement sending you both crashing further into the abyss of sensation. Each thrust drives you higher, the pressure in your core building, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces. His movements are wild, erratic, and yet there’s a precision to them, a calculated determination to make you lose control before he does. But you’re not about to give in easily, not when the taste of victory is so close.

“Faster,” you demand, your voice edged with desperation, and the way his eyes flash with something primal tells you he’s just as close to the edge as you are.

He obliges, his pace becoming almost brutal as he pounds into you, the sound of your name falling from his lips like a curse, like a prayer. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “I’m going to ruin you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to,” you manage to choke out, but the words are barely coherent, your mind a haze of pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to oblivion.

And then he reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. The sudden, overwhelming sensation makes you cry out, your body arching against him as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in bliss.

Eris isn’t far behind, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you, his own release ripping through him with a ferocity that leaves him shaking, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finds his own release, the tension that’s been coiled so tightly between you finally snapping.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room is ragged breathing as you both come down from the high. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, the war between you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection that this moment has forged.

But it’s only a moment.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” you murmur, your voice still breathless but laced with that familiar defiance.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though there’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before, a hint of something more beneath the layers of antagonism.