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jaysfavoritee · 5 months ago

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ptolemaea | p.sh

pairing. ❥ vampire!park sunghoon x fem!reader

genre. ❥ angst, thriller, psychological

cautions. ❥ death, depictions of blood & gore, profanity

wc. ❥ 2.1k

synopsis. ❥ Park Sunghoon would do anything to protect you, no matter the price.

note! story inspired by Ethel Cain’s Ptolemaea ! thank you for reading, hope you enjoy 🤗

You stood in the room where the deep sunset appears through the singular window. The golden rays hit the quietest corners, providing solace in everything it touches. The sun does not comfort you, though. No. It cannot.

You poor thing.

You blink back the impending sting of hot tears from forming. You wish to not cry. You never cried. You shall not cry now.

“Come in here, I know you're there,” you whisper meekly, letting the vines and thorns planted inside of your throat rattle with each vibration of your vocal box.

No response.

You breathe in. You breathe out. “Sunghoon.”

The doorknob twists and slowly opens. It creaks loudly in this quiet space. Dust accumulating within the ridges and edges of the furniture floats about, the rays of the sun allowing you to see it.

A tall figure is seen, dressed in all black. His turtleneck, black. His slacks, black. His shoes, black. His neatly styled hair, also black.

He's utterly gorgeous. His pale skin complimented the silver necklace that adorned around his neck, the first letter of your name engraved on it.

He towers over you. He is not close yet not far away.

“My sweet angel. Why do you call out to me at this time?” His voice is as smooth as the sand that trickles down the hourglass that sits nicely on the table. You find that voice to be as comforting as the warmth of the sunlight that radiates on your skin. His presence alone causes goosebumps to become visible.

The rays kiss the side of his face, purely unaffecting him. He is perfect.

“You know why. I'd like to see him,” you state calmly, as calm as the waves of the sea that you could see from out the window.

Sunghoon's expression only contorts into confusion.

You blink once. You blink twice. “Jaeyun. You know this. I want to see Jaeyun.”

After a few seconds, the name registers. Sunghoon smiles and shakes his head. This action causes you to furrow your eyebrows. It's your turn to be confused.

“You promised me,” you mutter, letting the words become laced and tangled with offense. Your eyes moisten again with the tears threatening to fall.

“I devoted myself to you. I did that. I wanted you to let me see him again for the last time. That was the only thing I asked of you.”

Sunghoon walks against the old floorboard with hands clutched together behind his back, stopping right in front of you.

“I know. Is this what you want? Tell me.”

You nod. “Please.”

A pout tugs at his lips as he turns his head to look at the closet door behind him. “As you wish, my sweet angel,” he whispers before walking toward the door and opening it.

Out of everything you would expect, this was not one of them. The lifeless body of your dearest friend Jaeyun lies before you. His neck and the half of his face were mutilated with teeth marks. The rotting smell and the sound of flies buzzing around his body present itself.

He was bloody. So bloody. Clothes drenched in the colors brown, black, and dark red. You could see the insides of the flesh that had been played around with, making your body automatically gag.

You begin to blink rapidly. You slap your cheek in hopes for you to realize that you were hallucinating the entire image.

“You are not seeing things, my love. This is real,” Sunghoon tells you softly.

The sunlight that shone inside this room took away the familiar warmth and replaced it with an unrecognizable coldness instead.

Once your heart was able to process what you were seeing, you fell to your knees. The wooden ground poked harshly at the skin, but that pain did not suffice to the pain that spread throughout your entire body and soul like a raging forest fire.

The tears that struggled to escape, at last, released. Your eyes blurred 'til you no longer could make out anything. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time.

The fire deep inside of you climbed its way up your chest, to your throat, and finally, it came out as a blood-curdling scream.

Sunghoon flinched at the sudden change of atmosphere. You screamed as much as your body would allow, and you started to crawl on the floor, not caring to pick up your knees and letting it drag against the wood, causing the skin to peel and blood to trickle. It stings.

Everywhere it stings.

You cry out. Your broken sobs echo in this tiny room. The waves outside become dangerous, as if they could feel the grief that swallows you whole.

You see red. You see white. You see colors swirling in your vision as your heart breaks. You swear you can hear it.

You bring out a shaky hand and you place it on the side of Jaeyun's face that was not tampered with. One eye open, the other gone. Nothing emanates from his pupil. No soul. Nothing to be seen.

The same as looking into Sunghoon's.

Sunghoon lets you cry out for minutes, or hours, he isn't sure. Time does not exist for you right now.

You cough nonstop.

Sunghoon kneels in front of you. He tilts your chin up with his slim fingers. “You poor thing, my sweetest angel. Why must you cry?”

You angrily shove his hand away from you. He tilts his head in confusion, genuine hurt flashes through his eyes.

“You. You.”

Breathe in.

“What have you done?” You whisper hoarsely while glancing down at Jaeyun. “Why?”

“I kept your promise. Didn't I?”

You stand up immediately, though your balance nearly gives out from the wobbliness of your legs. “You didn't keep my promise...”

“But, darling, I have. He's right th-”

“He's dead. Look at him,” you mutter through clenched teeth.

Quietness fills the air once more. Your head begins to throb.

Breathe out.

“You wanted to see him for one last time, my love. Have I been mistaken?” Sunghoon asks, his face etched with worry.

“I wanted him to be...” you say quietly.

Sunghoon stares right at you.

“ALIVE!” You shriek. The glass cups that sit on the shelves rattle. Your throat is on fire.

Sunghoon swallows.

“I wanted him to be alive. You tricked me. You fooled me,” you cry, your shoulders slumping. You back yourself against the wall and slid down from exhaustion.

Sunghoon shakes his head profusely as he makes his way over to you. “No, no, no. My angel, I would never lie to you. I've devoted myself to you,” he says sincerely and looks into your bloodshot eyes.

“..I would do anything for you. I would die for you.”

“You knew damn fucking well what I meant when I said I wanted to see him one last time. I didn't want him to DIE!” You yell the last word at his face, making him flinch.

“My angel, you see, it had to be done. I've already told him your farewells before he took his last breath. I wouldn't say he deserved your kindness, though.” His eyes darken.

You feel like crying again and you shake your head resting on the wall. “What does that even mean, Sunghoon? What have I done to deserve this?”

Sunghoon gently wipes the tears that stained your cheeks. “My love,” he says as he stands up, holding his hand out for you to grab. You hesitantly take it and he helps you stand up, balancing yourself.

He looks down at you with something in his eyes that you cannot figure out, but you chalk it up to be something akin to adoration.

“I have told you this since the beginning,” he starts with a low rumble of his voice. “Once they see me in my full glory, I can never let them see daylight again. That's how it works.”

You bite your lip in an attempt to stop yourself from yelling at him.

“Jaeyun is not the man you think he is, my angel. I wouldn't have done what I did if I didn't think he deserved it.”

You stare into his eyes and for the umpteenth time, you shake your head. “What are you saying?” You ask, voice strained. Hurt. Broken beyond recognition.

Sunghoon holds your hands into his and he glances down at Jaeyun's body. He lets go for a moment before he reaches down to Jaeyun’s side, taking out a tiny journal from his back pocket.

Sunghoon stares at it before handing it to you. In pure confusion and your head still throbbing, you grab the book from him and open it to see Jaeyun's handwriting. All of the pages were filled to the brim.

As you take a closer look at the words, you realize that he was planning something. He was writing down the dates and jotted down a bunch of observations, along with his thoughts.

“Date. 03.25.12 - She tripped over a rock today. She laughed it off, but it was too tempting to pick it up and bash her head in with it.”

“Date. 05.01.14 - Every day the urge keeps getting worse. She disgusts me.”

“Date. 11.22.18 - I've practiced the way I'm going to kill her. I have it all set up.”

You look at the dates and the words in shock, your mouth opening while tears trickle down your face. “He-”

“My dearest. He was planning your murder,” Sunghoon interrupts, his hands finding their way behind his back. He stares at you flipping through the pages.

“No, this isn't right,” you blurt out, your fingertips losing their sense of touch. Everything is going numb.

Sunghoon lets out a long sigh and steps closer to you, embracing your figure and rubbing the small of your back soothingly. “I know. Throughout all those years of pretending, his main goal was to end you.”

You shudder and drop the journal, letting it hit the floor aggressively. You blink away the burning sensation in your eyes as you abruptly shove yourself away from Sunghoon's hold.

“How am I so sure that you were not the one to pull this shit out of your ass? How do I know you didn't do this on purpose?”

Sunghoon kneels down in front of you and places his hands on your waist. He looks up at you with love that you cannot ignore how hard you try.

“Have you ever seen a vampire blush?”

“What? No.”

“There's no blood circulating through my veins,” he continues. “I don't possess the ability to blush. However, my love, you have caused this. You make me alive.”

You sigh and he smiles. “You know what I am. You know my heart does not beat,” he says as he takes one of your hands and puts it right in front of where his heart should be. You feel the sensation of it beating. “This is possible because of the way you make me feel. I love you so tremendously, sweet angel. You are my light and my savior.”

“How do I know if you haven't said the same thing to thousands of women one hundred years ago before me?” Sunghoon can see the doubt written all over your facial features.

In response, he shakes his head. “If that were the case, that would mean I've ended them already. Your blood is the sweetest, and I have been tempted, though I have not acted upon those temptations. I would never lie to you.”

You know that to be true. He's always honest with you.

“I want to protect you the same way that you've given me life. You made me feel things I haven't felt in centuries, my angel. I would do anything you ask of me to. I would never let anyone or anything hurt you under my watch,” he says sternly.

He begins to stand up and he pulls you into another embrace. He protected you from what you didn't know. He saved you from what you couldn't possibly be aware of.

“I love you,” you breathe against the fabric of his turtleneck. “Thank you for protecting me.”

He smiles cheerfully that displays his sharp fangs. “I love you with everything in me. Everything that I do is to protect you, my dearest. Trust me.”

And shall you trust.

He beckons you forward to exit the room, and you wipe away the rest of your tears as he intertwines your fingers with his. Before he leaves, he takes one last look at the journal and Jaeyun's dead body.

The journal that he purely made up. The journal that he manipulated your sweet mind to hallucinate.

Jaeyun was straying too close to what was his.

The devil himself wouldn't let that happen. Not under his watch.

#sunghoon #sunghoon angst #enhypen #enhypen horror #enhypen fanfiction #enha x reader #enhypen vampire au

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 9 months ago

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Hc for Halsin, Astarion, Will, Gortash, (& maybe Damon and Raphael) caring for a loved one with chronic illness or like an illness that keeps them bedbound for an extended time

A/N: Oh Nonnie, do I feel this ask lol. Chronic fatigue sucks, mainly because so few people don’t understand it goes beyond being just ‘tired’. There’s brain fog, stomach issues, and body pains– so I tried to touch on each of these symptom types for each character response. However you’re doing, whether you’re in a flare or not, I want you to know your illness is not your fault. You didn't ask for this. Don’t feel guilty for having to take care of yourself. You’re worth it. I promise.

Also, this is unrelated but it’s lowkey funny that the week after I got diagnosed with a weird anemia, I write an answer for an ask about chronic fatigue. lol

TW: Mention of Chronic Fatigue/Pain, Brief Mentions of Sex

🤕 BG3 Men Caring for a Gender Neutral! Loved One With Chronic Illness 🤕

Astarion:

Worries. Like A LOT.

Tells you not to be so dramatic about it but will literally sprint towards you if he even hears you sigh.

He asks Karlach to carry you.

Steals somebody’s cart/chariot if she refuses and instead makes her and Shadowheart take turns pulling that. (Jokes on him, they do it because they’re your friend, not his lol.)

Has you come on missions because he feels more secure knowing you’re right behind him, and he can keep looking after you. Astarion makes sure to always sneak ahead so you never walk unknowingly into any danger

Will give you massages if you’re in pain frequently, especially shoulder rubs, as he loves the view it gives him of your pretty neck.

Speaking of necks, feeding is a huge no-no. At least, until you start feeling a bit better. And then he’ll only allow himself a taste. Gods knows you need all your strength, and he would feel terribly guilty to take what little you have from you.

Lowkey appreciates the bags under your eyes and the way you can look like death incarnate, because well, then he doesn’t stand out as much. He also finds it strangely alluring, how you can look so fragile yet be so strong. It inspires him to find that balance within himself if he’s being honest.

If you have trouble ‘performing’ due to your illness, he’s not upset at all! (He’s actually quite relieved.)

Loves finding other ways you can be intimate together, like going to a spa and sharing a bath. Or finding a highly-rated inn and cuddling under some luxurious silk sheets.

Turns out that after a lifetime of being forced to do things, Astarions is more than happy to spend his time doing nothing with you.

Wyll:

Is so sweet and tender when he speaks to you.

He’s literally Prince Charming, which makes you his Sleeping Beauty.

On your good days, he’ll have you stand on his feet as he twirls you around, finding this the best way to ‘dance’ with you, given your current stamina.

Requests for you to stay back at camp and rest while he and a few of the others handle the more taxing and dangerous missions. Gifts you some books and journals of his to keep you occupied in the meantime.

When he comes back to camp, the first thing he does is check on you. If you’re awake, he’ll make sure your needs are met before tending to his own. Doesn’t matter if Wyll’s starving and covered in guts, if you need a drink or an extra blanket, just say the word and he will fetch it immediately.��

Will recite poetry to you on the bad pain nights when you cannot sleep because everything aches too much. He knows his voice won’t stop the pain, but he hopes it provides a soothing atmosphere to just rest in, even if sleep cannot find you.

Is always so tender and gentle in his lovemaking, that it’s rarely an issue for you. However, on the nights that it is, don’t feel bad at all. Wyll adores you for much more than your body. He loves your mind, your heart, and your soul. Just being near you, knowing you love him back is more than enough.

Halsin:

Is always prepared with some medicinal herbs or a healing spell.

He’s a natural caretaker, and you are no exception. However, when it comes to you, Halsin does approach the act a little bit differently.

It’s much more personal when he makes you health potions or casts spells to heal you, you can see it in his eyes. In a way, it’s as if your pain has become his pain, and he needs the relief just as much as you.

As long as you give your consent, Halsin prefers to have you touching him. Be it laying on top of his chest, or seated on his lap, he always wants his skin against yours, as if his touch alone could shield you from your illness. You find it rather sweet of him.

He pleads for you to stay behind in camp, or the grove- somewhere that is not the center of the action. He wishes for you to remain out of the fray, fearful that in your condition, fighters with less honor than he would take advantage of your vulnerability.

If you need to be in a house with a room, and not camped out in the woods, he understands, although it may frustrate him a bit. He believes nature is the perfect healing environment, but he also trusts that you know your illness better than anyone. After all, you’ve managed it all these years. So instead, he simply brings nature to you.

Haslin decorates your bedroom with plants, trees, and succulents. If you’re allergic, he enchants them to reduce their pollen production.

Halsin understands he is rather large in the ‘down there’ department. If you cannot have traditional sex with him, it’s not a surprise to him. He knows more than one way to please his partner. He’s very giving and seems to get off on your pleasure more than his own at times.

Halsin thinks you are one of the most beautiful gifts of nature. Your illness is just another part of you, and because it’s a part of you, he thinks it’s beautiful as well. You may resent it, but Halsin could never separate that part from you and hate it. He simply loves the whole of you too much to do that.

Dammon:

Oh my god, he’s such a sweetheart.

But also a low-key tease.

He has no issues getting or reaching things for you, but he does have a mischievous side, so be prepared for him to hold your things hostage, in exchange for a kiss or two.

Has a habit of finding you curled up in bed on your worst pain/fatigue days and peppering you with kisses, and won’t stop until you laugh.

Forges special mobility aids! Do you need help walking? Pfft. Not a problem. Dammon’s an incredible blacksmith, and he can make you armor that helps stabilize you. You know those really cool joint support braces you can get on Etsy and stuff? Yeah, he makes you DOZENS of them, all in different metals and designs, to match your mood/outfit for the day.

While on the road, or in the grove, he always ensures you’re armed with some sort of easily gripped knife or sword, just in case anyone attacks. He does his best to keep you close, never walking too far ahead or behind, but you having that extra layer of protection makes him feel all the more reassured.

He's not a fighter, but years of working in the forge have made his arms and back strong. He swears he will do everything he can to protect you, that no harm will come to you so long as you stay close.

Is so relieved when you make it to the city at last. He’s so grateful that he can finally provide a real room and bed for you. He feels as if the entire journey has been worth it now that you’ll be able to rest and heal as you need, in the kind of safe and stable conditions you deserve.

Comes in from a long, sweaty day of working in the forge, but immediately sets his sights on taking care of you. Draws a bath but insists you bathe first, as the water won’t be full of grime and ash after he bathes.

Is always surprised and very flattered when you tug him in with you, still touched by your affection for him, as if you’ve just met for the first time. Dammon’s still a little shocked that out of everyone, you chose him. (Ironically, you feel the same. You’re a perfect match!)

Insists on taking the lead during more intimate moments, and to make sure you just lay back and let him do all the work, introduces soft silk ties for your hands and ankles for whenever you feel like indulging in that kink with him.

Gortash:

Spoils you rotten.

No, really.

Part of the highlight of being a Lord, soon-to-be Duke, is that he has the power to make all the other people do things for him. And no task is too costly or requires too much manpower so long as it means you’re taken care of.

Buys the most lavish sheets and sleep sets for you. He wants you to be comfortable, the both of you deserve nothing but the best, after all.

Assigns around-the-clock healers to you 24/7. They are always in your home, on-call, awaiting your request for relief. He wants every measure of treatment and remedy explored. If there’s a spell or herb that can reduce your pain, then you shall have it.

Enjoys any downtime he has with you. Has his staff put a special chaise lounge in his office so you can visit him when he’s working.

Gortash is so used to putting up fronts for everyone else, that it’s nice to let his guard down around you. You don’t judge him, or think less of him for his ambitions. Other people would run if they learned the truth, but not you. No, you’re so much more special than that.

Of course, whenever you go out, you have your own guards and steel watch keeping you safe from anyone who’d wish to harm either you or him. All the other Lords and Ladies of Baldur’s Gate don’t dare say a mean word about you or your abilities, lest they wish to face the wrath of a peeved Gortash.

As an inventor, Gortash invents the very first automatic, steampunk-esque wheelchair for you. It’s powered in the same way his Steel Watch is, and it is uniquely one-of-a-kind, tailor-made just for you.

You know how in the game it’s hinted that Gortash basically stole and fucked his way into the high society of Baldur’s Gate? That many of the widowed Ladies gifted him lavish presents (like the deeds to their house?!) in response to whatever ‘relationship’ he had with them? Yeah. The man knows what he’s doing. And he does it well.

Your fitness level is no concern to him. The both of you will enjoy yourselves. He learns how to play the erogenous zones of your body perfectly, and in the event you’re too exhausted to play his, he has some, shall we say, special toys, he’s created just for himself. Course, should you ever ask, he’s more than willing to share them with you. ;)

Raphael:

Switches between pampering you to badgering you about it.

When he’s feeling particularly generous, he makes a point to overindulge you, making sure you’re aware of how unselfish he’s being at the time.

He’ll make sure you have not only whatever you need, but also, anything you should want. As a devil, he does have some magic up his sleeve, ready to take care of various aches and pains that you feel.

Ensures no other beings in the House of Hope lay a finger on you. No, that’s a privilege for him and him alone.

Of course, such benevolence from him comes at a price, so don’t expect the luxury to come freely, without strings attached.

After he feels you’ve rested enough, he switches from being overly doting to being more curt, and even a bit cruel.

You honestly don’t expect him to let you lounge all day, do you? Surely there’s a way you could make yourself useful to him. Your attention, your company, your body… there must be something of interest to him at the moment. Of course, Raphael won’t tell you outright what he wants, you have to figure it out for yourself each and every time.

More than anything Raphael loves your adoration, your attention. Just sit with him in his office as he reads over the various contracts he has binding any number of sorry souls. Ask him questions, praise him. Tell him you think he’s brilliant… Darling just worship him.

And after his ego’s been satisfied, he’ll go back to worshiping you. Relationships are all give and take after all.

(And don’t worry if you’re too tired or in too much pain to perform well in bed. He’s certainly no good at it either lol.)

#bg3 x reader #bg3 imagine #baldurs gate 3 x reader #baldurs gate 3 imagine #bg3 imagines #astarion x reader #wyll x reader #halsin x reader #dammon x reader #gortash x reader #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #bg3 #hc

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thesirencult · 11 months ago

Text

PICK A CARD : FIRST NIGHT WITH YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

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Disclaimer : Α tarot reading should never be used in place of professional counselling. Your reading cannot offer legal, medical, business, or financial advice nor does any portion of your reading herein purport to. You should not rely on a tarot reading to make any decision that would affect your legal, financial, or medical condition. If your inquiry involves the law, finance, or medicine, then you should seek the advice of a licensed or qualified legal, financial, or medical professional. Also, tarot reading cannot replace qualified mental health care. A tarot reading can only facilitate how you cope spiritually with a given situation.

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Pile 1

This person is very masculine in nature. They will want to penetrate your heart and soul until you reach your climax. This is a satisfier AND provider.

I'm getting that your ACTUAL first time may happen during the day and this is the first night that you spend at their house.

You will be teasing them all day long and it will drive them crazy.

There might be some chasing around the house and when they finish with you it will be apparent that you will need some support to get around *wink,wink*.

Your FS will tire you out ! I would work on my stamina if I was in your shoes as this person can last for a VERY long time !

They will be honest and sincere with you, so believe whatever they say during the act. They may have a hard time expressing themselves in general but during doing the deed they will express their love and adoration to you.

Pile 2

Your FS is very tender. They have been wishing for someone like you. As soon as they see you everything will fall into place. Their fantasies now have a face.

They don't need words, your eyes are enough. They want to kiss you until your lips are ble*ding. They are is a sense of breaking you down and guiding you towards your limit. They want you to do the same to them. Very fluid energy. They might be a switch.

Sleeping with them will be dangerous. Both of you will feel like playing with fire whenever you touch. Your love making will be awfully raw. You will not be able to escape their energy and I get the feeling there will be "reminders" of the night on your bodies the next morning.

This person is obsessive. They will feel you are tempting them and that they have fallen hopeless under your spell.

Pile 3

You have been waiting a very long time for this. The first night with your future spouse is going to come after a period of celibacy.

The masculine will be staring into the feminines eyes and he will feel like he has known her for an eternity. Your first night will seal your fate as a couple. Your union will also help both of you "manifest" a better future through the power of the big O.

Everything will feel like it was written in the stars and supposed to happen this way. Very emotional and dreamy. Your FS will make love to you while staring deep into your eyes. This person will be fascinated by you and they won't be able to look away from your face.

Things will be boiling under the surface for a while. Passion can not be contained that long and there will be some "spillage".

You will crave each other's touch so much before your first night together, that the release will be powerful. Like an itch you desperately need to scratch and they definitely know which buttons to press.

#astrology #tarot #pac reading #level up journey #pick a card #tarot reading #pick a pile #pick a photo #pick a picture #soulmate #intuitive messages #intuitive readings #future spouse #love reading

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lxkeee · 9 months ago

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BEGGING FOR A LUCIFER X FEM!READER SMUT ABT HIM EATING READER OUT AFTER SEEING HIM DO THAT GESTURE AT THE LAST EP PLSSSS 🛐🛐🛐🛐 would do anything for that man omfg I'D KILL FOR HIM TO CALL ME GOOD GIRL

genre: plot with some smut ig

warnings: cunnilingus, oral (fem receiving), soft dom! Lucifer, thigh marking, praising (both receiving), pet names (love, darling, sweetheart), whiney Lucifer.

notes: I don't do porn without plot so yes... There's a little bit of plot to this 💀 it is quite long as they're not having sex but making love soo you better bet he's going to take his time with herr... This one is hella long btw.

additional notes: banners are made by cafekitsune, reader wears gloves and I can't explain what kind but the kind Child/tartaglia wears from genshin impact. Also, I don't know if this will be good as it's been a long time since I've written smut 💀

tags: @adaizel @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @thedarkitten (I can't tag you </3) @brithedemonspawn @dinawss @froggybich

“Good luck kiddo.” Lucifer said to his daughter before eventually slowly teleporting away from the hotel and back to the palace. His body manifested on the arm chair that's in his room and his shoulders sagged a bit. A heavy sigh left his lips.

“She grew up so fast but I still can't help but get worried...” he muttered underneath his breath as his eyes gazed upon the hanged picture frame of Charlie. Removing his hat from his head and placed in ton the table then his eyes slowly gazed into the framed picture that was on the table it was him and his new lover, [y/n]. He gave himself a second chance at love and he met [y/n], the only sinner that he actually likes being around with. Despite her mysterious yet charming personality, [y/n] is a nice woman, very patient and understanding. Although, there are moments his heart would yearn for his ex-wife, Lilith during his relationship with [y/n] but surprisingly [y/n] herself is very understanding, she understands that he cannot immediately and completely erase a love that lasted for so many years and with that, he is grateful for [y/n] and with that he always reassure her that he loves her and is happy with her. Though, right now, he is completely missing her as she's currently away for a week due to her status as an overlord. Despite [y/n] being an overlord, she didn't become one because of cruelty but many sinners would want to work under her as she treats her souls with care, providing a roof under their head, food, medicine, and protection as long as they follow her orders. [Y/n] didn't really specify how long she'll be gone as there are important matters to deal with but she promised that it won't take two weeks. She reassures him and vice versa.

“Oh [y/n], I've missed you.” Lucifer says to himself, shaking his head with a small toothy grin on his face that shows off his perfectly white sharp teeth. The circles of his cheeks turning a darker shade of red as he thinks about her. He sighs longingly as he squeezes a rubber duck that looks like her, the small rubber toy making a loud 'squeak' sound.

He didn't realize it as the arm chair was facing the opposite direction of his door, he didn't notice the said woman arrived awhile ago and decided to surprise him and opened the door without any sound. [Y/n] grins as she watches the man she loves plays with his rubber duck, her body leaning against the doorframe and her arms crossed over her chest.

“[y/n] come back soon, I need your insights on whether my decision of allowing Charlie a meeting with heaven was a great idea.” Lucifer whines to himself as he talks to the rubber duck version of [y/n].

This caught the woman's attention, [y/n] has met Charlie and she absolutely loved the girl. She heard that Charlie's opening a hotel that redeems sinners, she saw it on the TV and she honestly found it funny how she fought the TV host. She supports her cause but [y/n] thinks she wouldn't be joining it, not because she doesn't believe it will work but she doesn't want to leave Lucifer alone.

[y/n] let out a silent sigh as she continues to listen to her lover ramble to the rubber duck version of her, “If only you could see how motivated she is, love. I couldn't say no and I am afraid they'll crush her dreams like they crushed mine.” he says softly, his voice dull as he recalled what happened to him when he had so much hope and dreams for his people.

“I am sure Charlie would be fine, she's an amazing kid and she has an amazing father who will support her.” [y/n] says with a small smile, finally announcing her arrival. Lucifer slightly jumped from his seat from hearing her voice, turning around quickly to see his beloved leaning against the doorframe with her arms over her chest, the black suit she was wearing hugged her figure perfectly, the red tie adding a pop of color to her outfit. She looked gorgeous, she always does.

His eyes widened before a smile finally found its way back to his gorgeous face, “[y/n]! You're back!” he exclaimed, jumping out of his seat and quickly running towards her. [Y/n] chuckles as she moves away from the door, spreading her arms open for a hug—only for Lucifer to hug her and dip her, the action causing her to place her hands behind his neck for support and his actions caught her off guard when he finally kisses her.

The lovers stayed in that position, Lucifer supporting her weight as he held her waist while in the dipping position. Her hands behind his neck, playing with his light blond locks, causing the man to groan against her lips. Sharp teeth occasionally clash as they kiss, two weeks apart made them yearn for each other.

Lucifer's lips slowly moved away from her lips making [y/n] whine softly as he began to kiss the side of her lips, her jawline, and then her neck. Wet sounds of his kisses fills the room, along with [y/n]'s whimpers as she felt the devil himself began to mark her flawless neck with his hickies. Lucifer gave her a smirk before placing a gentle kiss on the newly made mark he just made on her neck.

“Welcome back, love.” he says softly, looking down at her flushed features. Admiring her as he held her in a dipping position. [Y/n] chuckles softly, her cheeks warm and red after the passionate kiss, “Oh, Lucifer... You always know how to make me swoon.” she mutters and he laughs, his laugh is like a gentle breeze that calms you down, so soft. His cheeks are turning a light shade of pink, “Well, it's a natural thing I can do when it comes to you.” he says with a chuckle before eventually helping her stand properly, making her chuckle softly.

“Aren't you romantic today?” [y/n] says with a small laugh escaping her lips, he could listen to her laugh all day and not get tired of hearing it. Lucifer smirked before softly holding her hand, bowing to place a gentle kiss on her knuckle, “I just missed you, that's all. I haven't seen you for almost two weeks.” he says before the hand that was holding her hand slowly glides across her arm, reaching her chest by her tie and then gently tugging her tie downwards so he could reach her face, “And we have a lot of catching up to do, my love.” he says with a smirk, making [y/n] blush slightly at the action and from the tone of his voice, “Indeed we do...” she replied with a suggestive tone and eventually closed her eyes as Lucifer presses his lips against hers, tugging her tie to lower her more and turn the kiss deeper. [Y/n] chuckles against the kiss, parting away from him for a few moments as a smirk finds its way to her lips, “My... Someone's eager...” [y/n] says teasingly making Lucifer blush slightly and pouted, “Don't blame me, I have truly and deeply missed you.” he says before slowly intertwining his hand with hers, pulling her towards his bed and [y/n] complied with a smirk, deciding not to tease him further. She wants him and he wants her. It's been so long since they've last touched each other. They needed this.

Lucifer gently pushed her down into his bed, [y/n] landing on the soft mattress on her back with a soft 'thud.' Lucifer followed soon after, climbing on top of her, his hand caressing her jawline while his other hand supporting his body weight. They stared at each other, eyes dilated and filled with love and adoration for each other. [Y/n] shudders a little as she feels the soft material of his gloves against her skin, her eyes looking up at him, admiring his beautiful features—the red aesthetic of his room making his light blond hair and pale skin pop, complimenting his beautiful ruby colored eyes, sharp jawline, pearly white sharp teeth, so angelic yet sinful, “You are so beautiful...” she murmurs softly and she swore his eyes dilated more before his hand moved back to her tie and gently tugged her upwards so their lips pressed against one another once more.

Mouths moved against each other, soft whimpers leaving their lips as they tried to match the other's pace. Lucifer groans softly as he feels her fingers combed through his slicked back hair, making it messy but he doesn't mind. He can taste the cherry flavor of her lipstick as he kisses her, the taste of her making his mind swirl, “Fuck... I can't get enough of you...” he groans softly as he gently bites her lower lip, asking for permission in which she obliges, parting her lips slightly to allow him to slip his tongue inside.

[y/n] moans softly, fueling his passion for her. Sharp teeth clash against each other as they lose themselves in the moment. [Y/n]'s hand slowly found its way to his, intertwining her hand with his own. Lucifer squeezes her hand as he continues to kiss her, savoring the sensation of her lips against his and his tongue exploring her mouth.

Her other hand is exploring his body, caressing his chest through his suit, making him shudder slightly. Lucifer's kisses once more moved away from her lips, moving downwards from her jawline to her neck, placing a gentle kiss on the previous hickey he made awhile ago before gently pulling her arm that had her hand that he was squeezing, bringing her hand to his lips and gently bit the end of her gloves with his teeth to pull her glove down. [Y/n] gulped from the action, her body heating up from how attractive he is. Fuck... Why is he so hot?

“You're such a tease...” she mutters softly with a pout making him laugh as he holds her other arm and does the same thing to her other glove, biting it down to remove it before throwing the gloves somewhere out of the bed, “But you love it, don't you?” he asked teasingly with a smirk and she sighs softly with a smile, “I do, I really do.”

“You better say those exact words to me one day but that time, it better be when I'm kneeling down in one knee.” he says teasingly making the girl blush and groan softly and nodded, “that's my girl... Now, how about we take these off as it is in the way hmm?” he asked as his finger traced her chest, running across her suit, a silent question for her consent and she nodded.

Lucifer began to loosen her tie, throwing the red fabric across the room before he began to unbutton her top. Revealing her lacy black bra underneath, fitting her breasts perfectly. Ah fuck, she's so gorgeous...

Removing the black fabric off her figure, finally showing off her torso. [Y/n] did the same to his suit, helping her remove his clothes as he could feel the heat of his skin beginning to heat up more.

Slowly and surely, one by one their clothes were removed. Leaving them naked for each other's eyes. Both Lucifer and [y/n] had to avoid each other's eyes as they felt shy, it has been awhile since they've done something so intimate.

[y/n] slowly moved her eyes back on him, admiring Lucifer's bare figure—hair messy, cheeks red, eyes shy and avoiding, beautifully handsome face and body—clearly sculpted by God. She allowed her hand to graze at his arm up to his jawline, holding his chin gently and then slowly tilt his head back so he's now once more looking at her.

Lucifer's breath hitched as his eyes finally landed on her, [y/n] looked so beautiful—her hair sprawled behind her, her [h/c] complimenting her gorgeous face, half-lidded [e/c] eyes and dilated pupils looking at him with so much need and adoration, plump lips that he oh so wanted to desperately kiss all the time, her body most especially... He just wants to leave kisses all over it.

“You're so beautiful, I can't believe you're mine.” Lucifer whispers softly with his cheeks flushed while he was above her, his arms supporting his weight. [Y/n] blushed and chuckled, “You tell me that everyday, love.” [y/n] says with a small smile and Lucifer can only chuckle, “It's because I want to,” he says with a small smile, pausing a bit, “I want to remind you everyday, that my love and adoration for you will never change and I am grateful that I've met you.” he says softly, his voice gentle and vulnerable as he expresses his love for her, his hand caressing her cheek. [Y/n]'s blush turned into a deeper shade of red as she listened to his confession, a small and flustered smile on her face as she intertwined her hand with his once more, “With that, I am eternally grateful that you chose me, for loving me and with that I would love you till the end of time.” she says softly, Lucifer can only smile—the same dorky smile you always loved seeing on his face.

Lucifer leans down so he can kiss her again, [y/n] instinctively snaking her as arms behind his neck—pulling him deeper into the kiss. Their kiss was needy, fiery, passionate yet gentle, soft moans and whimpers escaping past their lips. I love you's being muttered occasionally between them and against each other's soft lips. Occasionally, Lucifer would let out a small whine as [y/n] began to stroke his cock while they were kissing, his whines were music to her ears, “Y-yes... That feels amazing...” he whimpered softly against her lips, his hips thrusting against her hand for more friction. She could feel how hard he is for her, she can feel the veins running from base to the tip, she can feel the precum staining her hands.

Lucifer's kisses once more slowly went down—to her jawline, neck, collarbone and finally on her chest. He looked up at her, his eyes needy and dark with desire and love for her before he finally took one nipple into his mouth, suckling and swirling his long tongue around the sensitive nub while his other hand played with her other breast.

Whimpers and whines left [y/n]'s lips as her hand moves away from his cock and squeezes the pillows, Lucifer really knows how to pleasure her, her other hand running through his hair and massaging his scalp while he moves to her other breast.

“Luci... Mhmm... That feels so good...” she softly moans out and Lucifer feels a sense of pride from hearing that, his mouth continues to suckle on her left breast before eventually releasing it with a small 'pop.'

Lucifer's eyes went back to gaze on her face—disheveled, flustered, and cute.

“So utterly beautiful...” he murmured before moving his body downwards as he finally reached her legs, “Spread your legs for me, love.” he asked with a small teasing smirk, enjoying the flustered look on her face. [Y/n] obediently followed and shyly spreads her legs for him, avoiding his gaze.

Lucifer smirked as [y/n] spread her legs for him, his eyes turning into slits as he saw how turned on she was and how much she needed him, “Good girl.” he praises, his voice teasing, “Only for you.” [y/n] replies with a smirk of her own.

“You better be...” Lucifer says with a chuckle as he begins to kiss her thighs, leaving hickies while his hands squeeze the softness of her flesh, his lips slowly going up and dangerously near her womanhood. Looking up at her, his eyes were soft but filled with want, “May I?” he asked and [y/n] looked at him shyly and nodded.

Lucifer's smile widens before he eventually allows his head to dip into her most intimate part. His mouth began to suckle on pussy, moans escaping both of their lips.

Lucifer felt hungry and he can only satisfy this hunger with her. He suckled greedily like a man dying of thirst. His tongue lapped along her folds, circling her clit that invokes loud moans from her. He misses this, he misses her so much.

[y/n]'s eyes rolled back and her back arching from the pleasure, toes curling, whimpers escaping her lips. She can feel the texture of his tongue against her most intimate part, a gasp left her lips as she felt him slip a finger inside, his long and slender finger thrusting in and out while his mouth worked wonders along with it.

“So utterly wet and so good for me, sweetheart,” Lucifer praises as he continues to eat her out before finally adding a second finger inside her, he could feel how easily his fingers slide in and out—a perfect manifestation of how much she wants him, he enjoys how she can no longer form coherent words aside from moans she let out. He is incredibly hard but this isn't about him but this is about her pleasure, she always comes first after all.

“You are so good to me... I love you...” [y/n] whimpered softly making him chuckle, “I love you too, darling.” he murmurs with a small smile, his tongue flicking through her hidden areas of her intimate area while his fingers continue to thrust in and out. Skins heating up from the passion.

Lucifer can tell whenever she's close, from the obvious sign of how her toes curl, how high pitched her moans are becoming, how hard she is gripping his hair and how far her eyes rolled back at the back of her head.

“Is my love gonna cum?” he asked teasingly making his girl whimper, “Yes...!” she replied and he chuckled as he increased the pace of his fingers and tongue, “Be a good girl for me and cum for me, [y/n]” Lucifer says and that was enough for the knot in her stomach to break, “I'm gonna cu—” her voice was cut off as she let out a loud whine.

Lucifer greedily lapped at her essence, like a nectar from the gods that he cannot get enough of. Small whimpers leaving [y/n]'s lips as she felt so sensitive.

He eventually removed his lips from her intimate area and along with his fingers, he looked up at her disheveled, breathless and flushed but beautiful face. Lucifer smiled, “Are you okay...?” he asked, his voice was gentle and worried and [y/n] nodded, “More than okay, my love.” she replied with a small smile, “We can stop here if you want? I don't want to force you or anything...” he says and [y/n] shakes her head, their love was both giving and receiving afterall, “I can still go on and besides, I know you need help with that.” she says with a smirk as her eyes landed on his painfully erect cock that was begging for her and he blushed, “Now, be a good boy and let me take care of you this time.”

#lucifer morningstar x reader #lxkeee hazbin hotel masterlist #lucifer #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer hazbin hotel #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel #Lucifer Morningstar x reader smut

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bestlilithian · 4 months ago

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Home is the first grave.

[ Moon-Pluto, Pluto in 4th house culture ]

tw for various mentions of abuse and death as well as mental problems, sh and su!cide, also needles (dont ask)

- may have experienced a lot of death in thr family or in the close neighborhood

- feel more connected to your dead relatives than your alive ones

- there mightve been a death in your family before you were born

- feeling peacful in graveyards

- may have fantasized about death/su!cide, might percieve death as something that brings peace (hence the fantasies, because really all you ever wanted was peace)

- wanting peace but knowing you cannot have it because of your nature; feeling like theres just something in your blood in your soul that is uncontrollable and overwhelming

- your household was always a house , never a home

- being raised by very old people, enjoying the presence of much older wiser people (like, literal elders not hot teachers 💀)

- enduring literal psychological warfare in your home (usual your mother waged war on you as soon as you were old enough to form a coherent critical thought)

- "I hate you, dont leave me" (might be the attitude of your mother towards you, or yours towards others you love)

- Your mother always knew when you were lying or hiding something. Especially if she had a scorpio moon or moon/pluto aspects herself. You grew up extremely fearful of her.

- moon pluto culture is hearing your mother talk lovingly about her own fucked up mother, she never accepted the severity of her own abuse, until of course she needs to use it in an argument against you "Im a great mother, my mother was so much worse"(basically Im good because I abuse you differently than I was abused 😍 same shit different package)

- not liking motherly women or women who try to be mother figures to you, feeling uncomofortable around them; youre uncomfortable with how much you crave motherly love and people who can provide you that become threats because of the power they could have over you if you opened up

- being betrayed by the women in your life, especially those who were much older and supposed to take care of you (teachers, tutors, family members, therapists, babysitters..)

- toxic female friends 😁🔫 bonus : really close but toxic female friendships in youth that feel like death when you end them even though you know it was necessary

- feeling pain so deeply you think you will drop dead or have a heart attack. (When I was little and depressed I wrote in a diary of mine "My body will kill me before I get to")

more on this : when you start crying because of immense emotional pain and suddenly your heart is burning and beating too fast and youre getting light headed and throwing up , and suddenly youre not crying because of the pain, youre crying because youre afraid youre about to have a heart attack and die

- fearing that your mother will k word herself or you if you try to leave her (harsh aspects mostly)

- learning what emotional violence is very early, how to wield it and defend against it

- turning your emotions off completely for a while and then having a nervous breakdown when it all rushes back

- reading up on psychology, psychiatry and works of psychotherapists so you can heal and never become your mother

- wanting to put a bullet in your head when you notice yourself thinking or behaving like your mother

- going home after you spent time somewhere where you felt good and safe is extremely dreadful

- your mother doesnt see you as a human being (harsh aspects especially), and may take you a while to figure this out

- extremely controlling behavior from your mother or other caretakers (for example my mother threatened to send people to stalk me when I moved to a diff city, to 'make sure Im not doing something bad')

- deeply grieving the loss of your childhood and your inner child

- almost choking while crying or passing out

- feeling like youre a horrible person and dont deserve your family [because youre in deep denial and are seeing the flaws of your family as your own and denying your own trauma]

- learning about sex early on, perhaps early sexual obsession but not like promiscuity more like craving for deep intimacy (also you were probably deeply ashamed of it)

- not telling your family (esp mother) anything because they will ruin it for you

- being accused of being a psychopath, uncaring, selfish for "not loving your family enough"

- not knowing how to feel about the members of your family that played a more passive role in your life because they didnt do anything wrong but they didnt do anything right either; surely they knew , why didnt they stop it? why didnt they save you? (Im talking about adults obviously)

- your parents mightve been much older when you were born, you might have siblings much older than you

- doing anything to avoid your intense emotions and then when you break down and feel everything you realize how freeing it is and how comfortable you actually are with the intensity

- gutteral reactions to songs you deeply relate to (I hear 10 seconds of 'Slipping through my fingers' and I am dead on the floor)

- being afraid of your mother or just of your family in general

- you could probably kill someone with your bare hands if you were angry and hurt enough

- scary as fuck when you actually show your anger

- if you cry in the midst of a fight (verbal or physical) ... someone tell that person to make peace w God . cause thats you crying because of what youre about to do, because thats you loosing the last crumb of humanity you had for them and that can only end one way.

- you would probably kill for your loved ones

- your friends feel like you would help them hide a body (and you probably would)

- recognizing people by footsteps and breathing patterns (especially family members)

- deep deep eyes, people can see war and death them, and they feel like you see their pain too (because you do)

- reading people easily

- enjoying? cruelty (to yourself or others), like getting impulses to do something that would cause you or someone else that ugly feeling of facing cruelty

- finding comfort in the cold and the dark

- insane nightmares since youth, growing to be used to them

- its very hard to shock you

- you know when someones lying

- you might dread certain types of pain yet feel pleasure from them (personally I hate having my blood taken for a test but then I end up immensely enjoying the feeling of a needle pricking my skin and going deep into my vein)

- feeling the need to "kill" some your habits; most likely to drop things cold turkey and be extremely strict in breaking bad habits

- might enjoy really dark, emotionally and morally complex media

- immediately recognizing other moon pluto people and trauma bonding

- extremely good pain endurance. not necessarily tolerance , but endurance. you feel the pain and do it anyway.

- might not react to physical pain at all from a young age

- fantasies about drowning or slipping away peacfully

- either loving deep waters or hating them

- randomly breaking down in the middle of the day because of some pain you buried 5 years ago

- might self harm a lot because of your complex relationship w pain, it genuinely helps sometimes

- home feels like literal prison

- seeing the value in suffering, you might reject the idea that suffering is bad and should be avoided and prevented at all costs

- you might become religious as you mature (but usually in your own way, not necessarily according to tradition)

- forced to eat or denied food in your home, this mightve fucked up your relationship with food

And lastly, I need you to engrave this in yourself :

Wrong love is not love.

#plutonian #pluto placements #moon square pluto #moon opposite pluto #moon conjunct pluto #moon trine pluto #moon sextile pluto #astro placements #horoscope #astrology #trauma #dysfunctional family #moon #moon placements #mommy issues #abuse awareness

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thegoogoomuckkk · 1 month ago

Text

NOW PLAYING

IN ANOTHER LIFE PT. 1

Starring: Kento Nanami, Kiyotaka Ijichi, Satoru Gojo, Shiu Kong, Suguru Geto, Sukuna Ryomen

In another life, where might you two meet?

Warnings! fem!reader, swearing, suggestive content, kissing, fluff

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Kento Nanami: Baker <3

Nanami wouldn’t consider himself a sensitive man, but he is methodical, traditional, & good at what he does. Baking is so soothing to his poor head, overwhelmed with thoughts of the future, financial stability, how on earth he’s going to work up the courage to ask out his favorite regular customer. . .you know, important, crucial things. But that all melts away when he bakes: of course, bread is his favorite, but he’s capable of nearly anything, you imagine. He knows that you have a soft spot for his sweets, so each morning he arrives at his little café so, so, so early to provide a new freshly baked good for your choosing. Scones, cupcakes, croissants, cheesecake bites. . .he’s a simple man, but for you, he’s imaginative, creative, loving.

& when he does finally ask you out, of course you’re over the moon. He’s so stoic that you really couldn’t tell whether he liked you or if he was just being polite, but he clears the air on your first date, telling, or rather showing you how serious he is about his affections. To Nanami, actions have always spoken louder than words.

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Kiyotaka Ijichi: Personal Assistant <3

Kiyotaka, in his heart & soul, cannot be anything but who he is, & that is a personal assistant. Some men have aspirations to run companies, prosecute criminals, create laws, scam poor people out of money, etc. but not Kiyotaka. He doesn’t find it emasculating in any way, he just is a subservient guy. He’s never more comfortable than when helping someone else. He loves a checklist, a set of goals, organization, all his pens in order of favorite to least favorite, a fresh legal pad on his desk each morning, errands to run, things to do. The chaos of it is oddly soothing to him. He’s one of those people that goes stir-crazy if there isn’t something to be doing constantly. He reads, he gardens, he takes care of a cat probably (a dog is just too irresponsible of him, at least that’s what he says, really he just loves cats).

But you teach him the joy of slowing down, relaxing. “The world isn’t going to end if you take a day off of work, Kiyo.” Wow, he thinks. That thought had really never occurred to him. Would it really be fine? Probably not, but you have him convinced. Not with his preferred method of logic & reason, no he’s far too head over heels for that. All you have to do is bat your lashes & smile & he’s putty in your hands.

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Satoru Gojo: Stripper <3

Attention seeker 101. The world has to know him somehow, if not as the best sorcerer, then surely taking his clothes off will do the trick. Satoru practically invented the term striptease. He’s a natural performer. Think sleek designer suits, custom-made costumes, & perfectly tailored outfits that cling to his body just right before he dramatically sheds each layer.

He’s lazy with it, too, not really pole dancing, not really doing the routine, just prancing around on stage, showing off. Puts that stupid body glitter on ‘cause he always has to pull attention from anything & everyone else. Gets upset when his regular clients don’t show up & tip him. Never gets fully naked, at least not for free, & not in front of all these people. But if there happened to be a pretty girl who happened to want a private show, he happened to be willing to oblige.

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Shiu Kong: Poker Dealer <3

He’s too good at his job, excelling in high-stakes situations, that’s his gig. Poker games for the rich & famous. He’s so calm & cool no matter the tension at the table, probably hiding a gun somewhere in the perfectly fitting suit. He takes his role seriously & always dresses impeccably, whether it's in a sleek, tailored suit or classic casino dealer attire. He can always tell when a player is bluffing, always.

He’s not looking for a relationship, but a friends-with-benefits situation with one of the cocktail waitresses is right up his alley. That little dress you wear—if you can even call it a dress—has him uncomfortably shifting his pants. Right at the table, too, so unprofessional. Probably makes you double date with Toji & his girl of the week, then argues with Toji for hitting on you, not only when you’re on the date, but right in front of Toji’s girl.

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Suguru Geto: Politician <3

Scuzzy man who associates with other scuzzy men in order to get his scuzzy money. On the surface, Suguru is the perfect politician—charming, eloquent, seemingly dedicated to the welfare of his constituents. Has a vast network of informants who gather dirt on everyone around him. He knows every weakness, every secret, & every skeleton in the closet of his political opponents. Loves making those cringey commercials degrading his opponent. Ultimately, he’s the dirtiest politician, he believes idealism is futile. Dark money & shady business is what Geto deals in. But don’t worry, he keeps you safe from all of that.

He is a master of shifting the blame; if & when something goes wrong, it’s never his fault, except for sex scandals. . .he welcomes those, if anything. Especially yours. It’s not necessarily scandalous, but he is unabashed when it hits the news.

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Sukuna Ryomen: Bouncer <3

Will kick your ass, I know you’re surprised by that because he totally doesn’t give off those vibes at all, not in the slightest. That’s why he became a bouncer at some high-end club, because he is a nice, sweet guy that doesn’t haunt your martini-infused nightmares/wet dreams. Hates the fake ID kids, not ‘cause they’re drinking, but because they’re so fucking stupid.

“Really? 123 Tokyo Street, Tokyo? You’re a fucking moron, get outta here.”

Sukuna doesn’t tolerate any kind of nonsense. If a fight breaks out or someone gets too rowdy, he’s quick to step in & settle things with minimal effort, in fact, he almost likes it when fights happen, gives him something to do besides checking ID’s.. His intense gaze alone often stops arguments before they escalate, but if things get physical, he can easily throw someone out without breaking a sweat. Sukuna may seem like he’s always brooding or annoyed, but he enjoys the control & authority of being a bouncer. He likes being the one in charge of keeping the peace—or rather, maintaining his version of peace. It’s a power play for him, & he thrives on it.

He’s not approachable, & yet that doesn’t stop you from approaching him. He’s not as easy as you hoped he’d be though; he’s hesitant to date someone from the bar he works at. It takes him quite a bit of convincing for him to even take you on a date, but once he does, he’s hooked.

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will i ever stop posting two part headcanons? that's a secret i'll never tell, xoxo, carlisle (no, but pray that i will) <3

LOOKING FOR SOME MORE? MASTERLIST <3

LOOKING FOR SOMETHING SPECIFIC? ASK <3

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forsworned · 7 months ago

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That Keegan post you made had me clutching my PEARLS! Your use of words was so masterfully done! I really loved the new vocab I learned while reading your work.

Your depiction of the relationship was also so so nice. Very loving and attentive and just so sweet. I could tell they loved one another and had already established boundaries that they knew they shouldn’t cross. The ending was lovely as well, a great way to tie things up.

Thank you for writing it! I’m excited to see what else your lovely brain comes up with!

-🧢

Whispers in the Woods: A Stranger's Shelter ft. OfftheGridCowboy!Keegan Russ

Sypnosis: When Keegan finds you petrified, running for your life from creatures unknown to you in the Haunted Appalachia trails after sundown, he takes you in for the night. Things get a bit crazy...

Warning(s): Mentions of Sexual Content, Violence, Petnames (?), Blood, Supernatural Horror (?), Eventual Smut, Barely Proofread, Reader is 28 and Keegan is 30, Reader is also AFAB

Word Count: 7.5k (enjoy keegan lovers ;)

Author's note: Blue cap anon thank you so much for inspiring me to write for Keegan. Honestly, I really love how this fic turned out and I hope you do too. I am so sorry I took so long to reply to you but you seriously warmed my heart so sosososo much when I read your message. I did not mean to put you on the back burner for this long/ Just know I have put so much effort into this to provide you a solid work so I hope that is a good enough excuse to have such a delayed response. Also so glad that you learned some new words LOL that really tickles me tbh, but I want to work more with the relationship that reader builds with Keegan in general or with any character x reader I write. So please enjoy this :)

edit: i think it's lowkey not living up to my expectations but ummm fuck it we ball

Sparks fly as the firewood in the pit crackles, casting an orange ember over you and the stranger sitting in front of you. His eyes, reminiscent of the cool, blueness of winter are lingering on you, and his heavy, leather jacket drapes over your shoulders to shield you from the chilliness of the early April evening. With his black cowboy hat slightly tilted upward, you note the black bandana covering most of his face, adding an air of mystery to his appearance.

"You really shouldn't be out here." His voice edges a precarious tone, though you cannot determine if it's toward you or whatever lurks in the abysmal woods. Maybe it was both. Your fingers curl around the distressed tanned hide, fiddling with the stitching of the material. A shudder careens through the columns of your spine, goosebumps trail over your skin, and the fuzz across your neck rises briefly.

"Don't look. Don't even acknowledge it." He instructs, steadying his gaze on you as he tinkers with the butterfly knife in his gloved hand. "W-what?" You gasp out, eyes reaming as your quivering vision sets on the embers of the pyre. A sinister presence harks over your convulsing body, heart palpitating out of your tightening sternum. But as soon as it arrives it departs and you're left heaving for the oxygen that was stripped from your lungs.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, what are you doin' walkin' around aimlessly in these mountains?" He repeatedly latches and unlatches the metal object in his hands, his gaze fixates on you. Truthfully, you were lost. When the engine of the old Dodge that you inherited from your grandfather abruptly cut out as you passed through a dead zone, it was all hauling ass from there on out. Classic damsel in distress situation.

Your father and he had both warned you about the Appalachian mountains. How apex predators inhabited the woods, preying on the innocent, ripping flesh apart on sight, or disappearing into the ghastly woods to never return. But, of course, you wrote it off as fearmongering. Never had you experienced the soul-crushing, harrowing existence of unidentified, cryptids lurking within the lacunas of the evergreens.

"My truck it—" You start to say, but the sound of him exhaling loudly cuts you off and you glance up at him with misery strewn across your features. Doe-eyes glimmering from the wetness that was welling in your oculars as your lips tremble. He outstretches his arm to the lantern on the perched log, "I've heard enough."

He begins to get up, extinguishing the flame, smothering it with what seemed to be a bag of salt and you felt fear creeping back into your system.

"Come on." As the pyre's embers fade, the lantern's switch emits a squeak, coaxing the oil flame to life, while the blood-curdling shrieks send shivers down your spine, ringing in your ears. And as if on cue, you cling to his side and he lets out a soft huff, feeling your arm coil around his.

The inferno acts as a bulwark from whatever is skulking around the both of you in the obscurity of the night as you move through the forest. You catch glimpses of shadows trekking about, seemingly running away from you now. A stark contrast from the previous frantic sprint through the woods in your petite, white frilly prairie dress that was now tattered at the edges and puffy sleeves. Now, you were safe. At least you certainly hope so.

A tiny light enters your line of sight in the distance, and you can only assume that that is his home. But you were still heeding the noises and images being molded in front of human eyes. It was as if the veil was lifted here, a supernatural existence in the vast mountains and woods of the Appalachia. You don't know whether to be terrified or fascinated, but you keep quiet as he silently leads you down the desire path to his home that is etching itself a little more into the horizon.

Approaching the home, you begin to notice the clandestine features of the house. A zephyr sweeps past you and the distinct smell of lavender and sage gently brims into your senses. You visibly shudder as the steps creak under your weight, your arm remains tucked into his own as he fishes out his keys and unlocks the door. Like a gentleman, he gestures to allow you in first and he follows closely behind, shutting it behind him.

"Shoes off at the door." He directs, treading past you as he tosses another piece of firewood into the lit fireplace.

What the fuck?

Is he just not going to acknowledge the paranormal manifestation that incurred upon them just now? The shadows of unearthly skinwalkers who infest the woods, who are prowling out there now as they barricade themselves from the outside? What is stopping them from forcefully intruding into his home?

You finally catch your breath for a moment, still feeling your heart hammering against your chest before you speak. "Are we not going to talk about what we just saw?"

"Nope." He simply replies, from another room and you blink back in surprise. Then it sinks in.

Of course, how could you forget? How can you forget the rules of the Appalachia, that were engrained into you as a child?

If you see something strange in the wilderness, no, you didn't.

If you hear something call your name, no, you didn't.

If you hear screaming in the Appalachian mountains, especially a woman's scream, no, you didn't.

If you feel something stalking you, do not run.

Never, ever, whistle at night.

Never go into the woods at night.

Never leave your windows open at night, even in the summer and honestly, the list dragged on and on and on.

Most of it falls on deaf ears never believing in the legends, and yet, here you are shaken up by things you never thought existed in a stranger's home who found it in his heart to shelter you until what you suppose would be dawn.

A wavering breath escapes you as you take a long gander at the well-maintained colonial home. The timeless and heirloom quality of the home becomes evident upon analyzing the vast array of paintings and framed photographs adorning the walls, each depicting individuals with strikingly similar features—dark brows, thick lashes, and mesmerizing steely blue eyes that seemed to penetrate your soul. You can't quite make out the framed artwork through your muzzy vision, but it's eerie the way you can't quite pinpoint why the face was so recognizable to you.

Exposed wooden ceiling beams motion your eyes to the inherited items and the mounted deer skull above the hearth. The warmth emanating from it felt different, soothing, lulling your quivery limbs. You oblige and kick off your boots, padding behind him as he draws out his gun from his holster and places it on the mahogany table. He removes his cowboy hat, hanging it on the horseshoe hat rack adjacent to the fireplace revealing his tousled short black locks. As he begins to unmask himself, a small gasp leaves your lips, fixating on his newly exposed features. And he was goddamn handsome and unusually reminiscent of someone from your childhood embarked into the backlogs of your memory, but of course, you brush it off.

And although he hears it, he does not acknowledge it as one hand grips the wooden chair and the other runs over his dark stubble. He's pensive. The last thing he needed was some heretic woman living under his roof for Lord knows how long. At this point, he decides that you are his responsibility and he cannot shirk from that for that would be unbecoming of a man like himself and he was raised better than that.

He glances up at the painting of his father above the hearth and you take note of the reflective state. His daddy was the embodiment of a Cowboy. Gentlemanly, charming, nifty, and always genial, providing the best hospitality a person could provide. No way, he'd accept Keegan kicking you to the curb, leaving you out for those creatures to rip you apart. Plus, his father would simply rise from his grave and kick his ass.

"You hungry?" He pays no mind to your lingering, bewitched eyes as he moves to the kitchen and you like a lost puppy trailing behind him. "Got some leftover potato leek soup."

And as if on cue, your stomach growls and he glances at your hand over your tummy. You flush from the embarrassment of your stomach being that raucous. He cocks a brow at you and you can't tell if he's amused or annoyed. Probably both. "Go sit." He points his chin to the table by the fireplace and you pad back to the living room, the tempering sensation of the flames causes you to become drowsy. You loll your head to analyze his stature. His figure towers over all of the antique appliances in the kitchen, muscles flexing as he prepares to reheat the soup on the stove. Rolling up his sleeves to reveal his taut, tanned forearms to open the cabinet and pull out the loaf of handmade sourdough, slicing it evenly and efficiently before tossing it in the toaster.

His form becomes a bit hazy as you lay your head against the top rail of the chair, mesmerized by the allure of his broadened shoulders, and soft pink lips that all by hide the peeking tongue indicating his concentration in preparing you a homecooked meal. Keegan never has guests over, in fact, no one is ever daft enough to come running around this way anyways because locals know better and tourists are too scared shitless to even enter this part of the Appalachia. He likes it like that, away from everything and everyone, being able to maintain his family's ranch that was inherited by him at the ripening age of 18.

His mother moved out to the suburbs because the death of his father was far too devasting on her already weary soul to continue living her days out on the farm. But Keegan doesn't mind it. He handles the livestock with ease, providing care to the birthing cattle, and maintaining the operations of the facilities as a whole to keep his honest living thriving. It's all in a good day's work for him. So caring after you shouldn't be too much of a hassle right?

You're suddenly awoken to the soft clatter of the bowl being set on the wooden table, the savory aroma of potato leek soup, and freshly toasted sourdough bread. He sets a glass of water beside you before he pulls his seat adjacent to you with his food.

"Eat." He orders, waiting for you to take a spoonful of thick soup. You hesitantly lift the spoon before glancing up at him. He blinks back at you, realizing the weight of his indiscretion, and whisks the soup with his spoon before noshing on it as if to tell you that is not poisoned nor drugged. Your other hand takes the bread in between your fingers and he mirrors your actions, claiming a bite from his own and you visibly relax.

The soup is scalding to the touch, but you welcome the sensation when you get a taste of the heavenly whipped soup. Not a single lump, just the smoothest, most savory supping of such a simple hearty soup instantly heartening your disconcerting body right down to your unsteady hand.

"I'll fix your truck as soon as dawn breaks." He flashes a glance before breaking his bread and scooping it into his soup. "Make yourself comfortable in the guest bedroom." He gestures with his hand to the upstairs.

"Oh, I couldn't—" You begin to say, but he will have none of it.

"You're not going out there until the sun's out." He replies simply, as he lifts his glass of water and sips from it. You observe the way his Adam's apple oscillates under his stubbly throat and you swallow thickly when you realize he's gazing at you keenly.

Warmth spreads to your cheeks and your eyes are now following the pattern of the wood grain. "That's…very kind of you."

"'s just the human thing to do." And there is an emphasis on the word 'human'.

You begin to play with your soup, scooping it up and letting it fall back into the bowl. "Right." Your voice is soft as you try to block out the memory just moments ago.

He narrows his eyes as if to study you. "What's your name?"

You glance up at him, and you're almost a bit hesitant to tell him. You almost want to lie, but you decide otherwise. "[Name], and yours?"

"Keegan."

"Keegan what?" You press. He raises a brow at you as he chews on his bread.

"Russ."

Russ. An esteemed surname that was echoed throughout your household during your adolescence. Presley Russ was a handsome and genial man who appeared at your father's porch steps every so often, tipping his hat at you with that charming smile and those glacial hues that made your heart jump. He'd invite your daddy out for nights at the rodeo or sipping on Highland Gaelic Ales on the porch from the afternoon til midnight, biding his time between Maryland and North Carolina.

You never quite caught glimpses of his son when you were living out on the ranch before you moved out for college, but you did remember a time when you ventured out past sunset in the abandoned village in the Black Hills you knew better than to be in when your daddy had to travel to Wheaton for the grand opening of his old buddy, Presley's restaurant accompanied by his reclusive son who you never remembered the name of. But for God's sake, who was stupid enough to go treading alone around the same location as the filming of the Blair Witch Project?

But you were a skeptic at best until you heard the unrelenting repetition of your name being called which led you astray, causing you to stumble over your own feet and ultimately collide with a rock that rendered you unconscious. Soon enough, you felt yourself being carried back to your home in the arms of the Russ boy with the hardened steely gaze that intently stared down at the knot forming on your forehead. You had never shut your eyes so quickly and the sound of his soft chuckle, caused you to be even more embarrassed as you were being handed off to your worried parents who were more than relieved and thankful to have retrieved you.

Of course, you had to act like you were unconscious. It was already humiliating enough that you were old enough to know better, but being ferried by a cute boy like you were some helpless damsel in distress was just mortifying.

But that was long forgotten by you in hazy summer days during your teen years before you went off to college and moved out into the city. In reality, you had written it off as a dream, a hallucination concocted by that vivid and graphic imagination of yours. That was always the case with you and the Appalachia. Always the non-believer.

But part of you was hoping that maybe he didn't recognize you after all this time, and yet the way he is staring you down is beginning to feel like otherwise.

"Blair." He suddenly says matter-of-factly as he taps his finger at the table and nods again. "Blair." A small toothy grin creeps on his lips before he chuckles.

Your eyes reaming as your heart drops to your stomach. "What?"

"Black Hills, you're the daughter of the farmer right up in Garrett County."

You feel the warmth blooming on your cheeks. He knew. "I—How do you remember that?"

"Knew you looked familiar." He dives back into his steaming soup. "Was tryin' to figure out where I'd seen that necklace of yours." He juts his chin, pointing to the family heirloom that kisses your clavicle. It had been passed down for generations to the women in your family as a symbol of health, wisdom and longetivity. You feel for the 20k gold pendant with lilac and sage engraved into the soft metal.

He looks as if he's stifling another snicker. "Think you pissed yourself a little when I found you unconscious."

Now that gets you real flared up. The abrupt change in mood was beginning to wrack your nerves. You sigh knowing that at the very least you were in good hands. Familiarity begins to set in as he breaks the ice, creating a more comfortable atmosphere between you two.

"I did not!" You puff your cheeks out at him and he's tickled pink by your endearing, agitated reactions.

His gleeful grin only grows to his eyes. "Now, who willing goes into the woods by themselves when they know damn well what kind of activity breeds over there, hm? Gotta death wish if you ask me, kid."

You open your mouth to say something, but it clamps shut. You don't know whether to be abashed by the way his face lights up like the stars in the heavens above, or by the fact that he remembers that you pissed yourself a little through your favorite pair of khaki parachute shorts in a known marked area where people have gone missing. The stark realization of it being a tangible memory was mussing at your trepidation towards him. But he's teasing you now and it stirs a strange kind of desire in your lower belly as you uncomfortably shift in your creaky wooden seat.

Pushing your bowl away, you avoid responding by guzzling down your water and then calmly placing it back down.

"I'd like to get ready for bed now, if you don't mind."

He jovially raises his eyebrows as he munches on the last of his bread. The smirk still curled up on the corners of his pinkened lips.

He wipes the crumbs off his hands and thumbs either side of his mouth before he gets up, gesturing to you. " 'Course not."

You stand up and politely push your chair in as you track behind him up the croaking staircase. Your body is practically heaving with every step and by the top of it, you're feeling a bit winded. Keegan decides to keep his comments to himself as he ushers you down the grandiose hallway. The walls are painted ivory, and wall sconces are tapered candles on held-up aged tin nailed into the parapet. Hardwood floors are well kept, but the small divots in between the grain quickly reveal the age.

He jingles the knob to what you suppose is the guest bedroom, but it seems to be locked. His fingers fish into his pocket and you watch as he phalanges through the set and then finally picks out the antiquated rusty skeleton key. It's honestly a bit jarring that it requires a key to fasten the door, but at this point, if you're being kept away from the monsters lurking outside you'd be happy to be his little prisoner for now.

He pushes the door and it moans open, though much to your surprise it's polished and orderly. In the middle of the room is a wooden four-poster queen-sized bed, with a princess-like sheer white canopy that surreptitiously envelops the bed. The furniture is a bit more romantic with detailed carved patterns on the bookshelves that line up against the wall to the vanity that sat adjacent to the bed. The carmine curtains that drape over the large window, easily maneuver you to the balcony, and the soft calling of your name beckons you to open it…

A sturdy hand clasps over your shoulder and you jolt as you turn to him. He's shaking his head as he towers over you and you look so goddamn feeble with those damn bambi eyes of yours shimmering in the tiny sliver of moonlight that peeks out from the window. He tears his gaze away to tread over to the window, squeezing it shut with the velcro he sewed into the fabric and reinforces the window shut.

A sharp exhale leaves his nostrils and his eyes are on you again. "I totally can see why you ended up the way you did." He glimpses over your dirtied and frayed dress, skinned, bloodstained knees, and contusions running up and down your legs. God, he makes it so easy to feel self-conscious.

He licks his lips as he hovers his hand over the knob to his right, and signals you over. You begrudgingly stride over and you're just as impressed at the bathroom. From the massive mirror above the traditional wooden undermount double sink vanity to the wine-red clawfoot freestanding bathtub. Little golden trinkets pinstripe the rosy walls with the soft warm lighting of the hanging flowery ceiling light fixtures. You squint your eyes when he adjusts the radiance to a white glow with the dimmer light switch before he opens the drawers one by one.

"Towels, robes, spare clothes, toiletries. Gimme a shout if you need anything else."

You open your mouth to say something and his eyes playfully narrow at you. "—within reason, missy."

Your bottom lip reflexively juts out. You hate to admit it, but you were quite the spoiled child. Never receiving more than a gentle chide from your parents and always silver-spooned to the nines by your grandparents. The truck was an exception. More of a parting gift from your grandfather that was left to you for the sole purpose of memorabilia scored into every inch of the tarnished vehicle. You hope that Keegan is capable of fixing it since most parts were made by discontinued distributors and they were definitely not easy to come by as they were expensive.

"Christ, spoiled rotten, weren't ya?" He ribs, nudging you a bit and you frown at him.

"Was not." You childlessly retort, but the small smile on your face betrays your feeble attempt at contempt.

Fuck, she is so cute. Keegan thinks as he assimilates your hilly yet winsome appearance. Just as cute as he remembers when he was seventeen, ignorant of the malignancy that poisoned his father's lungs.

"Not as much as your daddy spoiled you." You shoot back and cover your mouth with your hands as his brows lift in half surprise and half revelry.

"Blair's got jokes now, huh?" The elicitive nickname indicative of your former years sends another rushing warmth to your face and you begin to shoo him out.

"I'd really like to be clean now, thank you." You cast a scowl his way and he's putting his hands up in surrender as he backs out of the bathroom followed by the bedroom.

"I take it that the lady needs her privacy now." He leans against the doorframe with his hands stuffed into his denim jean pockets that are dusty and darkened with wood ash and the smell of the campfire lingers on his skin.

"And her beauty sleep." You add on, folding your arms. His jacket is still resting over your shoulders and he chuckles at your Hello Kitty print socks. The way your hair was mussed up in the soft glow of the lantern lamp on the night table was starting to arouse him a bit.

Fuckkkkkk, you were so adorable. It might have taken every atom in his body not to bend you over the mattress and spank you for being such a dotty woman before pressing his cock past your velvety folds as he makes you apologize in the form of incoherent, dirty little whimpers.

But the thought is quickly dismissed as it's formed in the sullied cogitations of his mind.

"Good night, [name]." He murmurs in his husky voice yet there is a hint of mischief in his tone that sends a frisson up your spinal column.

"Good night, Keegan." You susurrate, as you slowly shut the door and his expression remains the same as your view of him narrows until it disappears behind the threshold.

"Christ." You mutter to yourself as you begin to get ready for bed, as you feel the rush of collywobbles in your stomach start to well up a craving for the cowboy. The time on your cracked phone screen reads 2:03 AM and a wave of exhaustion crashes over you at the realization. Had you really been out there for seven hours?

The warm water soothes your aching bones and forming scabs scattered across your body as you gently exfoliate your skin. Thankfully, Keegan had enough sense to drop off a first aid kit by your door before you slipped into the bath. You weren't looking forward to the sting of the antiseptic, but you were more than grateful to be alive and have all your limbs attached. As you close your eyes and let the sudsy bath take away your worries, a coaxing voice is entrancing you. At first, it begins as a hushed lull intermingled with what sounds like your name and a bit of white noise that makes your brain all fuzzy and warm, but it becomes audible. Forming coherent luring words that resemble Keegan's deep, raspy voice.

Drown, drown, drown.

And you promptly find yourself submerging into the tub and the stillness of the water is subduing, but something is instigating you to open your eyes. You push away the thought, taking in the tranquility, settling into the comforting sensation of weightlessness. And yet, the feeling is not leaving you. You internally sigh as you move your body to the surface, but you remain dormant. Your eyes shoot open and your blood runs cold.

Above is one of the most fear-inducing creatures that you have ever laid your eyes upon holding you down on either side of your shoulders with slender claws digging into your flesh. It resembles a caribou skull with elongated antlers but its eyes were a violent vermillion that penetrates your soul. Its body was dark, rickety, and harrowing. Bones astute against the matted onyx fur and its tongue hanging out of his jaw like it was ready to devour you. Panic surges through your veins as you thrash about but it drives its talons further into your skin and you shriek out in pain. Water enters your lungs, your heart is stammering at cardiac arrest speed and you're choking out for dear life. This is it. This is how you die and the worst part about it is, you couldn't even call out for hope from the man who saved you just moments ago.

But just as you're accepting your fate, the muffled sound of a gunshot pierces through the air and within seconds the skinwalker is incapacitated and then dead. Soon enough, you're being hoisted out by Keegan's strong hands, as you cling onto him naked, wet, and heaving for oxygen.

Water expels out from your esophagus and you're trembling even harder than you were before when he found you, grasping to him and he's immediately talking you down.

"It's alright, you're okay. You're okay." He soothes, one hand tenderly caressing your soddened hair and the other is gripping your body tight as he pulls you out of the tub. He wastes no time unplugging the drain and wrapping you in a large towel to cover your naked body. In all seriousness, Keegan didn't even take a second to gander at your naked form when he was gathering you out of the tub and he makes that clear that his sole objective was to eliminate the wendigo that trespassed into your sanctuary.

He could've sworn that he had locked up every single opening in the house as he does every single night. It was like clockwork to him ever since his father had shown him the ropes to the place.

"…Kee-keegan." You splutter out as you continue to clutch onto him and your body is saturating him with water. He doesn't care though, that was the least of his worries. Your eyes are reaming and glossy as you dare to peek down at the creature that was seconds away from letting you meet your maker, but there's nothing but ash on the tiled floor.

"It was—" You begin, peering up at his harking steely eyes and his jaw tightens.

"It's gone."

"I don't understand." You shake your head, trying to make sense of what just happened, but the soft clatter of the rifle hitting the bathroom counter delineates your scattered mind. "Oh. But—"

"Get dressed." He softly prompts and you shakily let go of his t-shirt and he hands you an eggshell-colored peignoir as he averts his gaze. He's cognizant of the post-distress and panic you're in, so makes no indication of reallocating himself away from you as you slip on the fabric nor does he provide an explanation for what just occurred.

And to be honest, you didn't want to know. There was nothing more disturbing than the encounter with death in the form of a mutated caribou that leaves you shaken up. Everything just seemed too difficult to wrap your little head around, so let him take care of you.

A fresh towel is on your head, soaking up the wetness tangled into your hair and you relax at his balmy touch.

"Thank you." You mutter as your eyes are cast downward, eyeing the imbued, darkened spots on his nightshirt.

He delicately hooks his index finger and thumb between your chin and lifts it upward as he dabs at your features with the towel. And then it lingers. His intense yet pensive gaze, his stout calloused thumb that is now brushing against your jaw shortly followed by your quivering bottom lip. His jaw ticks.

"I'll sleep in here tonight."

Your heart jumps rampantly against your chest. "What?"

"You almost died if it weren't for me."

"Yes, but it's not—!" You fall short of words yet again and you're tearing your gaze away from him. As dire as the situation was (and it was), Keegan cannot help himself from being just the tiniest bit entertained by your endearing little mannerisms.

"I'm not gonna sleep next to you in bed." He deadpans. Normally, he would let you stumble over your words, but exhaustion is seeping into his bones and even as a noceur himself he was in desperate need of some z's. "The armchair over there quite comfy."

You follow his eyes to the brown leather recliner that was beside the bed and then back to him.

"I'm tired, Keegan." You profess, leaning your head against his chest and he's absentmindedly rubbing circles into the small of your back.

"I know."

Typically, you wouldn't be this comfortable with a stranger but given the unusual circumstances that were currently trying to slaughter your ass, you found yourself seeking solace in him.

"Let's get you into bed."

And soon he's leading you back to the bedroom, his hand is still on the small of your back as you walk on wobbly legs. He peels off the comforter and you sink into the mattress feeling like royalty in your crisp, clean nightgown, in your large princess-like bed, surrounded by plush pillows as the light in the lantern flickers. It casts shadows over his dashing features. The flame turns his glacial eyes into a soft apricot and an expression flickers over his visage—concern.

He's harping over your safety and the intruder that happened to bypass his heavily guarded home. No tripped wires, no movement detected on his cameras, and not to mention not a single sound was made until he heard your thrashing in his room across the hall. If he hadn't been there in time—

"You saved me, though." You drone, shutting your eyes as you tuck yourself into the cotton sheets.

His hardened glare softens at your words and how you look at ease now. A testament to your full, unshakeable faith in him. God, you were so quick to trust, it honestly scared him a little for you.

He scoffs. "How can you be so sure that I wouldn't hurt you?"

"Because your father would resurrect and beat the absolute shit out of you if you even dared to think about harming me." You state with a sly smirk on your face.

Keegan's expression briefly falters before he lets out a snicker, acknowledging the truth in your bold proclamation. "Crafty little critter, aren't ya?"

You giggle as shift under the sheets. It's almost a bit disturbing how you are seemingly fine and brushing off the situation. "Maybe."

He peers down at you for a moment and the welcoming feeling of your radiance starts to crawl into his chest. Almost like you were right where you needed to be, in his home, in his bed under his safeguarding. He wants nothing more than that. It's almost a bit perturbing how you are seemingly fine.

"Go to sleep." You mumble.

"You go to sleep."

"No, you first,"

"Who else is going to shield you against creatures of the night?"

You pause for a moment. "Good point."

He smiles as he walks over to the armchair, gun propped up against his left leg as he sits to face you. You're already curling up in a ball, and your chest rises and falls at a tranquil pace.

"Good night, Blair." He feels his eyes drooping as his vision becomes bleary.

You chuckle at the idiotic nickname. "Good night, Cowboy."

The remnants of tiny, foolish smiles are left on your faces as you drift off to sleep in your respective spaces. The last passing thought that crosses your mind is Keegan's tender gaze and his fingers brushing against your lips. Keegan wonders what is making you so giddy before the world around him fades out.

As morning breaks, sunlight filters through the curtains, casting a gentle glow on the room. The spring breeze wafts into the wisps of your hair and your eyes flutter open. The seat in front of you is now empty and the balcony door is wide open, and yet you're calm as you rise out of bed. Birds are chirping and the incessant droning of cicadas buzzing loudly against your eardrums is merely white noise when you recognize the low rumble of your truck's engine pulling up. There is an urgency that surges within you and soon you're sprinting out the door, and the heat of the cobblestone stings at the soles of your feet but you don't care.

The engine cuts and Keegan climbs out of the truck, sleeves rolled up in his army green henley, and he's wearing a clean pair of relaxed, light-wash jeans that skim the leather of his Tecovas. He peers up at you with wintry hues, tipping his hat, and in that instant, you're transported back to your childhood—Mr. Russ, tipping his hat with those same eyes and that glorious smile that always made your heart race.

The resemblance was both striking and uncanny, but damn, you were totally not complaining.

"Mornin', little lady. You're up quite early." He puts his hands on his hips and he's no longer the stone-faced, vendetta-filled Cowboy that you met last night. He's your friendly Appalachian Cowboy who provides you the sweet, sweet southern hospitality with a charming smile and a bit of a North Carolinian twang that sets your groins on fire.

"Mornin', Cowboy. Fixed my truck, did you?" You lean against the French iron wrought railing with your ruffled hair and white nightgown, rippling in the slight draft that carries the healing scent of sage and lavender. The fabric forms around your body and Keegan notices how it traces the outline of your curves and how the sun is hitting you just perfect enough for you to look like a literal angel.

But it's still the unrelenting, disconcerting feeling that creeps up on him when he looks up at you so unbothered, airheaded with that buoyant grin on your face. Was it really just a facade?

"Fixed it good enough for you to get back on your way." He turns from you to the truck and then back to you. "By the way, where were you headed?"

"Back to the old man." You cross your leg over the other, waiting for his response. He watches as the skin of your legs peeks out from under the peignoir and it's a bit enticing.

"I didn't contact him if that's what you're askin'" His hand acts like a sun visor to block the light out of his sensitive eyes to take a good gander at you.

"I would hope not. Don't need to send him into cardiac arrest." You joke and you see his shoulders shaking a bit, suggesting a chuckle.

"Made you breakfast."

"Yeah?" You simper, leaning a little more against the railing.

He can't help the way his grin broadens as he peers up at your flirty form. "Careful now, can't have you comin' back home with a broken neck, can we?"

Shit. Shit. Shiiiiit.

Goddamn him and his pretty face. He's already heading inside as you're locking in on him, but Keegan isn't one to give you the satisfaction. He'll play the long game and he'll enjoy every minute of it. From the way you're sitting next to him at the table with your dress bunched up to your thighs to the way you sensually lick your spoon covered with cream and he's internally chuckling at the mess you've made on the corners of your lips, feigning gullibility to get a rise out of him. Admittedly, it's hot. He wants nothing more than to lick your fingers clean and sloppily kiss your sweet cream-laden lips.

Mmmm.

He doesn't say anything. Just enjoys his breakfast and keeps his gaze lowered like a gentleman. The company of a beautiful woman is enough for him on a fine Sunday morning like this.

You can only wonder what he's thinking as you act like a giddy schoolgirl who's trying to get the attention of her professor. Not that you had a significant age gap with Keegan, but in his original line of work there was a massive lapse. Being a retired Marine had probably mentally aged him over give or take 10 years would have been your best guess. And leaving the farm to his cousins in his absence probably impacted him even more, well, according to your gossip girl of a father at least.

He made trips down to NC every so often to check on his favorite, reclusive cowboy, sometimes tending to his facilities when need be. You never tagged along though. In your mind, you were a city girl who didn't mind dressing up as a cowgirl if she saw fit. So coming down from your city job, in the comfort of your sweet loft that overlooked the NOVA skyline didn't exactly make you miss the Appalachia trails.

Still, it is nice being back here with a somewhat familiar stranger in a home you had only seen the outside of because, for the majority of your life, you had so desperately tried to force out the rural in you. Call it toxic, but leaving the mountains always felt like the haze had lifted from your brain. It was unsettling to be here for too long.

"You're nervous."

You glance up from the runny eggs that you have been working on for the past twenty minutes. You give him a sheepish grin. "This place makes me nervous."

"Itching to go back to the city, huh?"

That elicits a small chuckle from you. "And what do you know about me?"

"Well, according to your father," He says in a knowing tone and you narrow your eyes at him as he gives you a coy smile. "you love the city too much to move back."

"I don't think I'm too good for it. Here, I mean."

"Didn't say that. The Appalachia isn't for everyone." He butters his toast and then munches on it and soon it vanishes into his mouth. The night before is washed away from your memory, but Keegan loses track of his thoughts as he stares at the leftover jagged lines embedded into your skin from a creature that he knew you wanted to forget. A glance at his watch and he's up, wiping his hands and mouth with the serviette that was on his lap before he places it on the table. "You ready?"

"You got somewhere to be?" You raise your brows, not quite ready to leave yet.

"Matter o'fact I gotta date with an employee from Tractor Supply Co in about an hour, and it's thirty minutes out."

"New livestock?" You sip at your coffee.

A sad smile graces his lips. "Yeah, my last eldest cattle just passed away a few weeks ago."

You frown. "I'm sorry."

For a moment you swear you saw him get teary-eyed, but he quickly shakes himself out of the grief, grabbing his keys as he downs his glass of ice water. He stops himself for a moment as you get up to push your chair in and he can't help himself from tracing his fingers over the claw marks on either side of your shoulders. You shudder from the remembrance and his touch.

"[name]," He starts to express but your mood sours.

"Stop."

His expression falters and so does his hand as he lets it drop to his side. You didn't want to remember any of it. He notices how you clutch onto your necklace and he drops the subject.

"Your trucks waiting." He takes your hand and deposits the keys into your palm.

You give him a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you."

You begin to approach your truck and you feel relief washing over you as you run your hand over the tarnished, rusted hood of the Dodge before you open the driver door. As you climb in you notice that all your belongings remain untouched. Scattered cassette tapes, polaroids, and the little Hawaiian girl that swayed with every movement still plastered onto the dash. The leather seats seem to have abrasions, revealing the cushion beneath, but you write it off as a bear maybe deciding to try and access your vehicle after you had abandoned it.

"…[name], ….[name]….!"

You're snapped out of your stupor, recollecting your thoughts as you glance over at him leaning his body against your truck. "I checked the vehicle, it's all clear for you to go. Should make it back alright."

"Why wouldn't it be if you fixed the engine?"

The look you give him is blank, free from concern and any worry that may have been left on your face from last night.

He nods, pushing his hands into his jean pockets. "Right, well, it was nice seeing you all grown up."

That provokes a reaction. Heat is rising to your cheeks and Keegan is standing there looking cool as ever as he takes off his hat and wipes the sweat off his brow before putting it back on.

"Thank you." You say with more feeling, only your eyes acknowledging the horrors of last night. And that's enough for Keegan.

"You take care now." He tips his hat with a good-natured grin and you snicker at his little cowboy bit.

He waves to you as you back out of his driveway and you glance over from your rearview mirror as his towering figure disappears and so does any anamnesis from the evening prior. Or at least, you told yourself that.

And that was April. Months have gone by and Keegan doesn't exactly expect you to keep in contact. He's even surprised to hear a, '[name], says hello, by the way.' from your father during their weekly check-in.

And he definitely does not expect to see your truck in his driveway when he's coming back from milking his cows for the day with his new set of eyes that's in dog form, wagging her tail in anticipation as she sits.

"German Shepherd, eh? Suits you." You simper at him, leaning against the pillar of his home with glossy lips, and a cutesy red paisley swing dress that just barely covers your thighs. Your boots are hardly broken in as they dig into the grassy field and your hair is a little disheveled in an endearing way.

"Name's Miley." He peels off his gloves, shoving them into his back pocket. He's completely taken aback by your sudden presence, though he's not one to complain about a pretty lady showing up at his door.

"Hey, Miley." You coo, holding your hand to her and she's immediately reciprocating your energy tenfold as she jumps up and down, causing you to giggle and pet her soft fur.

Keegan doesn't even need to say anything as he glances down at the German Shepherd and she's already sitting on the ground between you two.

"Miss me?" You ask, coyly.

"Could ask you the same thing, Blair." He tilts his head to the side, eyeing you suspiciously. Something was off.

"I was just in town."

"Uh huh."

It doesn't take long before the act drops and distress is carving into your features. Lips are trembling in fear as your eyes begin to water.

"Something's been following me, Keegan." Your body naturally falls against his chest and his breath hitches a bit at your contact and the smell of your perfume wafts into his senses.

Fuck.

mini taglist: @keegansshark @soapsgf @milkteaarttime

#call of duty #call of duty imagines #keegan p russ #keegan p russ x reader #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ smut #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod ghosts #call of duty ghosts #call of duty smut #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ #keegan smut #eventual smut #alternate universe #cod au

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anemoelliacia · 1 year ago

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zhongli worships his lover <3

warnings: MINORS DNI, afab reader, zhongli is kind of possessive?, zhongli has 2 cocks, dumbification, body worship, overstimulation, implied cunnilingus, squirting, slight praise kink, slight religious undertones (implies that zhongli worships you despite him being the archon in the relationship.)

Zhongli had been fucking you for what felt like hours because of how sensitive your body had become, how your mind can't think of anything but how good you feel as he defiles you- all the while praising your body in turn. You absolutely cannot utter a proper sentence. Moans and curses are flying out of your mouth, and you're lucky when you manage to string together a few words because he has you so fucked out, practically going dumb on his cocks- he loves every second of it. He loves even more hearing you try to wail and whine anything of coherence that you can express.

At this point, all you can manage out is a cry of, "Zhongli... oh god-" followed by moans and incoherent babbles.

Which brings a smirk to his face, he only takes this as a way to tease you by retorting with, "no use calling out for your beloved archon when I'm already here fucking you."

He is the god here, and calling out for another archon won't save you. Yet, while he may be the archon here... you are the one being worshiped. He worships you in the way he assiduously touches your body. His goal is always to leave you wholly satisfied, to know that you are irrevocably his and you'll never need another. He wants you completely his.

And so, he is utterly ravishing you, looking at you with such adoration as your face contorts in pleasure. Because, to him it's practically a ritual, the way he devotes his nights to you with such zeal and passion for giving you pleasure that no one, human or god, could rival.

He wants the pleasure he gives you imbued into your body, your very soul, so instilled you'll never forget the feeling of his cocks, one pounding into your gushing cunt, while the other is hard against your clit, precum leaking from it. It's so lewd, but he lives to hear the sinful sounds that escape you as he fucks you, especially when you are so close to unraveling beneath him.

He practices pleasing you religiously, so regularly that he knows your body like the back of his hand, all your tells you're about to cum just imprinted in his brain. He sees the way your hands grasp at the silk sheets beneath you, the way your back arches, the way your breathing goes erratic, and the way your moans turn more whiny- he never fails to coax an orgasm or two out of you.

He can feel the way your walls clench around his length with each thrust, your body nearing closer to release. The sounds that fall off your lips, and their increasingly high pitched tone sound beautiful to him, like a meticulously handwritten melody as you moan his name, "oh, zhongli..."

He guides your body so effortlessly to the edge- so effortlessly into mind numbing pleasure as you cum, gushing around his cock and effectively soaking the sheets beneath you. He praises you for such a thing too, "such a good girl, making a mess for me..."

When he touches you, it never does not end with your legs shaking, and thighs coated with your own slick. There is never a time when he doesn't trail his mouth down your body, cleaning up the lovely mess he caused with his own tongue, rendering you overstimulated from the extra stimulation he provides to your swollen clit. He claims it's the best way, the only way, smirking as your thighs shake around his head.

and you wouldn't want it any other way, no, you don't need it any other way. because he is all you need.

▶ i genuinely spent so much time on this because i needed to get this idea out of my head and i hope y'all like it as much as i do <3

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact smut #genshin impact drabble #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader

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blaisenova · 6 months ago

Note

hello, my beautiful, awesome, coolest husband.. ♡

I demand a killer x dust fic !!! do it!!! It's an order!!

thank you ❤

your wish is my command and all that

putting this one under the cut since it's got some vulgar language and is just generally pretty toxic. y'know, it's killer and dust. all par for the course LMAO. also i would just feel bad taking up too much of someone's dashboard if they weren't interested XD

as usual, the link to this fic on ao3 will be in the reblogs, and if YOU want a fic like THIS!!! my requests are open. i cannot promise swiftness, but i do my best

please do enjoy :)

or don't. i can't make you

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“Oh, lover boy!”

That lilting voice was carefully crafted to be as infuriating as it was unmistakable, and the reaction it evoked was equally instinctual; the tensing of the shoulders, and the crackle of magic. Dust didn’t have to turn around for Killer to know exactly what expression would twist his features: one of undeniable annoyance; thinly veiled fury that Killer knew exactly how to pull taut until it snapped.

The moment he laid his hand on Dust’s shoulder, the skeleton whirled around, hand wrapping around Killer’s neck as he slammed him into the wall. The impact was enough to rattle the glass lantern mounted high above them, providing a meagre amount of golden light that was just as quickly swallowed up by the castle’s darkness.

Nevertheless, Killer didn’t even flinch. In fact, his grin widened. “Geez. Handsy today, huh?”

And, there was the snap; just as sudden and quick as it always was.

A growl erupted from Dust’s throat as his grip tightened enough to hurt. “What the fuck do you want, whore?” he snarled, sounding every bit as furious as he looked. “Haven’t you been indulged enough today?”

Indulge he had, but wasn’t indulgence the point of their missions in the first place? Nightmare had plenty of negativity to not only survive on but, also, to thrive, but that never stopped him. Plentifulness, Killer had learned, was naught but a tool through which to obtain the true ecstasy of life: shameless, unnecessary indulgence.

Gluttony was one hell of a sin and, often, Killer found, lust went right alongside it. Pleasure of the body was far holier than pleasure of the mind, for not even the most powerful of deities could take away the physical sensation of pure instinct; not even his own, innate numbness could douse the heat sparked between one body against another (or, more, if he was really feeling shameless).

Whore, Dust had said, and wasn’t it true?

He knew how to use his body to draw attention, and he did just that. He’d pluck the frayed string of his soul and offer it to whoever would take it so that they could pull him apart at the very seams, and, then, he’d thank them. There was nothing quite like the feeling of being unravelled, over and over again, and, so, Killer indulged in it. If that made him a whore, then he’d be one gladly.

“Oh, stop, you’re making me blush,” Killer drawled, undeterred. “I’m afraid I’m entirely insatiable, as always.”

As if disgusted – and maybe he was; Killer was never sure – Dust immediately released his grip, backing away and grimacing at his hand like it had been contaminated. Then, his vitriol turned right back towards the source, and he made a point of keeping eye contact while he wiped his hand of Killer’s filth. “Do you care about anything other than getting your dick wet?”

Absentmindedly, Killer raised a hand to rub at his neck; it would surely bruise, but it wasn’t as if he minded the idea. “Sure I do,” he hummed. “I’ve got a pussy, too.” Then, he grinned, wide and sharp. “And a mouth.”

Scoffing, a soft purple tinted Dust’s cheeks. “Didn’t have to mention your mouth with how often you fucking use it.”

“I have a lot to say,” Killer said, snickering.

“Yeah, and all of it is needlessly vulgar,” Dust hissed in return.

Gracefully, and too quickly to be stopped, Killer stepped around Dust’s frame before pushing the shorter skeleton up against the wall, switching their positions. The motion was notably more gentle than the furious pin of earlier, and Killer’s arms boxed Dust in on either side without touching. Purple rushed to the hooded skeleton’s face in an instant, and it almost would have been unnoticable in the dark shadow cast across his face if Killer hadn’t known it would be there. His fingers curled into fists against the wall while Dust’s hovered uncertainly in front of his chest, as if he hadn’t quite decided whether or not to push him away.

“I’m thinking all sorts of dirty thoughts right now, actually,” Killer finally agreed. “Wanna hear them?”

With a shaky inhale and eyelights pointedly avoiding Killer’s face, Dust nodded.

“Are you sure? They’re absolutely filthy,” he breathed.

“Just spit it out already,” Dust hissed.

And, with all the tenderness in the world, Killer took Dust’s hand into his own. Their fingers interlocked perfectly, like they were made for one another, and it would have been impossible to miss the way that Dust’s breath immediately hitched at the contact. His eyelights stared at their union with an uncharacteristic longing, and Killer relished in it.

Then, he snickered, and the sound made Dust jump. “See?” Killer chirped. “What’d I tell you? Premarital hand holding. We’re fucking disgusting.”

The almost reverence that had beheld Dust’s expression fell away into complete and utter distaste. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Not in the slightest!” He wiggled his fingers, testingly, enjoying the feeling of them against one another. It wasn’t a new sensation, by any means, but, nevertheless, it never got old. “I mean, my god! Is this lewd or what?”

Again, Dust scoffed, though he didn’t attempt to pull away. “You’re not funny.”

“I think I’m hilarious,” Killer mewled.

Like the words were a spark to gasoline, Dust immediately bristled. His grip on Killer’s hand tightened, their bones grinding together achingly. “You’re leading me on,” he hissed. “Why? Because you think it’s funny?”

With an over-dramatic gasp, Killer placed a hand to his chest as if he’d been scorned. “I’ve never led you on. I’m just getting started.”

“Oh, yeah?” he asked, voice dripping with sarcasm. “What’s next? Premarital kissing?”

All at once, Killer yanked Dust’s hand, forcing him forward and against his chest. His other hand wrapped around to press against the small of Dust’s back. He smiled wickedly down at the other skeleton, and a fresh wave of flushed purple magic dusted the other’s cheeks. It was a pretty shade, Killer had to admit, and he’d always loved that wide-eyed, unabashed desire that the slightest touch seemed to elicit.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he purred. “Not before premarital eye-contact.”

“I hate you,” Dust snarled, though his furious expression was subdued.

Laughing, Killer pulled Dust along in a half-hearted, clumsy sort of dance through the hallway. The floor was plush against their feet, and the walls were too narrow to allow for any sort of grace in their movement, but it was enough to be pleasant; enough for them to dance anyway. Each time the warm, orange light of the hall’s lanterns shone onto Dust’s face, Killer drank in every expression he tried to hide beneath his hood, or harsh words, or violence, and it was enough to be pleasant; enough for it to feel like love.

Clutching tightly to Dust’s hand, he spun away, then allowed himself to be pulled back, flush with Dust’s chest as they continued down the hall, and he smiled down at him wryly. “You wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid.”

Dust pressed his head against Killer’s shoulder, shrouding his face from view, and, when he spoke, it was almost too quiet to be heard. “I just want this.”

Browbones furrowing, he snickered, though there was something about Dust’s tone that made his soul wobble and the sound of his laughter come out hollow. “What, terrible dancing?”

“No,” Dust immediately corrected, and there was more insistence to his tone this time. “To be held. To be with you.”

And, Killer’s smile widened. And, he ignored the way that it didn’t reach his eyes. “And, nothing more?”

“Isn’t that enough?” he asked, and it sounded like a plea. “Aren’t I enough?”

It was difficult to speak around the inexplicable knot in his throat. The one that always showed up when it came to conversations like this. “Of course you are.”

Slowly, their dance came to a stop; the hallway couldn’t go on forever, so neither could they. But, neither of them released one another, still clinging to what they could reach as if they were afraid for the dance to end. To dance without movement is simply to embrace, but there’s something more intimate about that, that Killer cannot face.

“Then, why…” Dust choked, and the words were lost, but they both knew them anyway.

Why are there others?

Why isn’t enough enough?

Why does this have to be indulgence?

Why can’t this be love?

“Let go of me,” Killer whispered.

Dust scoffed, and there was something rueful in it. His grip on Killer’s shoulders tightened. “Thought you never led me on.”

“Get off,” he hissed, and he pushed away from Dust as if he’d been burned. Feeling the way that his bones buzzed, he couldn’t be sure that he hadn’t been. Something burned in his chest, and it must have been fire. There was no other explanation. “Go fuck someone else if you need it so bad.”

Stumbling backwards, Dust caught himself on the wall, and his eyelights glowed dangerously when he looked back up, shining ever brighter as they reflected off of unshed tears. “Fuck you,” he spat, venemous. “I’m not some fucking slut that sways his hips to get the attention of strangers. I’m not like you. I don’t need that. Enough is enough. You are enough.”

“You’re making this into something it’s not,” Killer breathed.

“Fuck you,” he repeated, even harsher. He stepped forward, and Killer fought off the instinct to step back in tandem; another dance. “Why isn’t it?”

“It can’t be,” he said.

And, there was the snap; just as sudden and quick as it always was.

Again, Killer found himself pinned to the wall by his neck, feeling an awful lot like cornered prey, with his teeth gritted into a smile. His hands wrapped around Dust’s wrist, though he didn’t attempt to pull it away. Sharp fingertips pressed into bone, almost as sharp as the look on Dust’s face; features alight with magic that sparked between his joints and made the spots where there was contact tingle unpleasantly, like a warning. Maybe it was one.

“I love you,” Dust said, and it sounded an awful lot like a damnation.

Killer didn’t answer – couldn’t find the words, or, maybe, refused to. His grip on Dust’s wrist tightened as the hand around his throat turned vice-like and stole the breath that he didn’t really need.

“Say it back,” came the demand.

With a laugh that came out more like a wheeze, Killer spat thick, black determination into Dust’s face. “Or, what?”

All at once, with a crack that Killer wasn’t sure was entirely in his head, his skull connected harshly with the wall. He bit back a noise of pain and forced it to come out as another laugh. Once the stars cleared from his vision, he was met with another furious flush of purple and white hot tears as Dust wiped at his face, and he wished that it meant anything to him.

“You think I won’t kill your little side hoes?” Dust hissed. “You think I won’t make you fuck their dust?”

Wasn’t that indulgence, too? To kill that which got in your way? It wasn’t necessary. It was strictly something done because it felt good to. Wasn’t that, by the definition of the word, indulgence? Maybe Dust hadn’t spent as much time under Nightmare’s care as Killer had, but, clearly, he’d learned something.

Violence, which clung to indulgence’s hand in the same way that lust did; equally disgusting; equally unnecessary; equally beautiful. Killer couldn’t help but to laugh at the thought.

Dust cut him off with a growl. “Is this funny to you?”

“It is, actually,” Killer purred. “You’d find a way to be jealous of a pile of dust if I gave it attention in front of you.”

A choked sound fell from Dust’s throat, and, for just a moment, he averted his gaze, hand squeezing Killer’s neck harshly and drawing a matching noise from him. Then, it loosened, and his eyelights bore into Killer’s empty sockets once more. “I love you,” he said again. “Say it back.”

“Or, what?” Killer wheezed again, undeterred.

“Or, I’ll kill us both,” came the response.

His expression was carefully even, sockets half-lidded and mouth smoothed into a thin line. Magic crackled dangerously through his form, making his eyelights flare that same bright, terrifying purple, and the glow of his magic reflected prettily off of his tears. His touch burned like fire; the same one that burned in Killer’s chest that not even the instinctual, icy dose of panic that flared in his soul – because both of them knew that Dust wasn’t bluffing – could put out. It was perfect. Disgusting, unnecessary, beautiful indulgence.

“God, I love you,” Killer breathed.

And, in an instant, their mouths crashed together in a sloppy, desperate kiss, pressed up against the wall like art.

#blaise writes #undertale #undertale fanfiction #sans undertale #dust sans #dusttale #killer sans #something new au #utmv #utau #sans au #sans #sanscest #killer x dust #kist #fanfiction #i'm pretty happy with this one actually #but maybe that's because toxic relationships are kind of my bread and butter

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ossifer · 1 year ago

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On the Mechanics of Lyctorhood

I want to preface this by saying this is a long, long post that is going to delve deep into lyctorhood, skim the surface of physics and biology, and fully embrace conjecture! If I'm right about all this then I'm very happy, but I also cannot wait to be disproven in Alecto the Ninth.

Thanergy

Thanergy is the product of the decay of thalergy: this is the principle that underpins all of necromancy. All necromantic adepts are capable of manipulating both thalergy and thanergy, but necromancy is shown to be reliant on thanergy specifically, and is most geared toward utilising thanergy as a result.

“Thalergetic decay causes cellular death,” you said carefully, pressing the nail in harder, “which emits thanergy. The massive cell death that follows apopneumatism causes a thanergetic cascade, though the first bloom fades and the thanergy stabilises within thirty to sixty seconds.” [Harrow the Ninth]

As shown by @pokkop15 in this post the term thanergy is almost certainly derived from Thanatos, the Greek God of Death, but thalergy's origins are more murky: likely candidates are thaleros (a greek word that means lively), Thalia (the muse of Festivity whose name also means blooming), or Thalassa (divine personification of the sea in greek mythology, which would fit considering how life is very associated with saltwater in TLT).

The Eightfold Word: What is Lyctorhood?

According to the resident tall glass of skank and questionably reliable narrator, Ianthe Tridentarius, the Eightfold Word is composed of the following steps:

Preserve the soul, with memory and intellect intact.

Analyse it—understand its structure, its shape.

Remove and absorb it: take it into yourself without consuming it in the process.

Fix it in place so it can’t deteriorate.

Incorporate it: find a way to make the soul part of yourself without being overwhelmed.

Consume the flesh [NOTE: Ianthe says 'a drop of blood is enough to ground you', which to me indicates that this step serves as a way to ground the incorporated soul into the lyctor's body, by having material from the soul's original body. This is very significant.]

Reconstruction—making spirit and flesh work together the way they used to, in the new body.

Hook up the cables and get the power flowing.

Lyctorhood seemingly works by providing the necromancer with, among other things, a near limitless reserve of thanergy that is presumably derived from the incorporated soul once the power is flowing: as we see with Cytherea healing herself, lyctors are either unable to generate thalergy—or their ability to do so is lessened in comparison to their ability to generate thanergy—and must instead siphon it from external sources when their own thalergy is depleted.

In Nona the Ninth we are introduced to Palamedes' conception of Lyctorhood in terms of Lysis: the Lyctorhood we are most familiar with is Petty Lysis, where only one of the components dies, while Grand Lysis is a mutual death—a gravitational singularity creating something new, as is the case with Paul. Lysis is a term used in biology that refers to 'the breaking down of the membrane of a cell', which as I've explored before

In the series, Lyctorhood is spoken of in terms of fire: there are repeated references to Gideon's soul being made the furnace of [Harrow's] Lyctorhood and serving as a furnace of power, Mercymorn refers to her cavalier's mortal soul burning in her chest, John says that the risk posed by fully incorporating Alecto into himself completely would be that he'd probably burn to death, and Paul's birth results in Camilla's body being consumed by flames. This leads us on to how lyctorhood is also characterised as consumption: eating the cavalier, absorbing their soul, burning it for fuel.

What is the mechanism behind the thanergetic generation of lyctorhood?

Lyctorhood is barbaric, it is cannibalism, it is taking another and burning them in yourself for power. But that raises the question of where that power comes from. By the way that thalergy/thanergy are spoken of with terms reminiscent of radiation, coupled with how lyctorhood is rendered through metaphors and imagery related to fire and/or consumption, it would seem that the logical conclusion behind this is that the soul is being subject to continual thanergetic fission.

The terminology Tamsyn uses is something that lends credence to this: nuclear fission 'occurs when a neutron slams into a larger atom, forcing it to excite and split into two smaller atoms—also known as fission products'. Sudden, sharp decay/conversion of thalergy into thanergy could be the mechanism behind thanergetic fission, as we see with Harrow's description of apopneumatic shock and how the burst of thanergetic energy (a neutron slamming into a larger atom, forcing it to excite) is sufficient to prevent liminal osmosis from taking place: "In cases of apopneumatic shock, where death is sudden and violent, the energy burst can be sufficient to countermand osmotic pressure and leave the soul temporarily isolated."

But from what we know of the nature of the thanergy, thalergy, and the soul, this explanation makes no sense. Thanergy is emitted by thalergy decay, but souls in of themselves are not a source of thalergy nor thanergy, as shown by Anastasia's tripod principle: “The body needs thalergy and a soul to keep the lights on. Anastasia’s tripod principle. Body plus thalergy, but no soul, is basically a very weird vegetable … after a while it gives up and shuts down.” [Nona the Ninth]

Going back to the nuclear terminology, I'm going to cut straight to the core of this theory: the mechanism behind the thanergetic generation of lyctorhood is thanergetic fusion.

What is thanergetic fusion?

The term I use here is a misnomer, because a more accurate term would be pneumatic fusion, considering how Tamsyn Muir is fond of using the Greek pneuma to refer to the soul: nuclear fusion 'is a reaction in which two or more atomic nuclei combine to form one or more different atomic nuclei and subatomic particles'.

A nucleus in physics is 'the positively charged central core of an atom, consisting of protons and neutrons and containing nearly all its mass', while in biology the term refers to 'a dense organelle present in most eukaryotic cells, typically a single rounded structure bounded by a double membrane, containing the genetic material'. Palamedes uses the term lysis for Lyctorhood, which as you'll recall refers to the disintegration of the cell membrane, thus exposing it's innards: such as the nucleus. The soul is the nucleus.

Nuclear fusion involves combining two or more atomic nuclei to form one or more different atomic nuclei and subatomic particles: the difference in mass between the reactants and products is manifested as either the release or absorption of energy; as a rule of thumb the fusion of lighter nuclei releases energy, making it an exothermic process, while the fusion of heavier nuclei results in energy being retained by the product nucleons, and thus the resulting reaction is endothermic. An exothermic reactions releases heat, causing the temperature of the immediate surroundings to rise, while an endothermic one absorbs heat and cools the surroundings.

In the context of this nuclear fusion explanation of Lyctorhood, an exothermic (exothanergetic) reaction releases thanergy while an endothermic (endothanergetic) reaction absorbs thanergy: the fusion of lighter souls release thanergy, the fusion of heavier souls absorbs it.

What are the implications behind these mechanics?

The question that comes to mind is what is a heavier soul? The answer, once again, lies in physics: "The heaviest atomic nuclei are created in nuclear reactions that combine two other nuclei of unequal size into one; roughly, the more unequal the two nuclei in terms of mass, the greater the possibility that the two react." [Wikipedia]

How does John explain the soul of a planet to Harrow?

John: “And what has a soul?” Harrow: “Anything with a thalergetic complexity significant enough to … have a soul. So, humanity.” [...] Harrow: “A planet’s a ball of dust. Its thalergy comes from the accumulation of microbial life. You can’t consider it one coherent system.” John: “Call it a communal soul. What’s a human being, other than a sack of microbial life?

Planets' souls are communal, formed from the thalergetic complexity of an entire world coalescing into a nuclei that lies at its heart, heavy in a way a human soul is not: a human soul is light, a planet's soul is heavy. In other words, Alecto is a heavy nuclei and John is a light nuclei, with the resultant nuclei of their combination forming something heavier than either: an endothanergetic reaction.

Moving back to thanergetic fission and the apopneumatic shock of a violent death, we can now examine what happens when John becomes God:

He becomes aware of Alecto when Cristabel kills herself in front of him.

Now aware of Alecto, he creates a massive flood of thanergy by inciting the violent deaths of millions, possibly billions, through the detonation of nuclear devices.

Empowered by the mass thanergetic fission caused by an untold number of apopneumatic shocks, 'I became a demigod', he finishes off the rest.

He kills Alecto, takes her soul in his hands, and attempts to become one with her.

He almost fails, and during this flawed process is forced to split her soul between his body and another, hiding himself in her and herself in him.

Fusion still occurs, this reaction is endothanergetic and allows him to near absorb a massive amount of thanergy in one sitting: "And when we were together … once the shaman had claimed the sun … I became God."

He violently kills the rest of the planets in the system, flipping them and creating a surplus of thanergy, a process of large-scale energy creation and transferall: to quote Ianthe once again, "You see, my field has always been energy transferral … large-scale energy transferral. Resurrection theory."

What this all means is that the secret behind the Resurrection is that John's Lyctorhood works fundamentally differently to that of his Saints, because his is endothanergetic where theirs is exothanergetic, a reaction between a heavy and a lighter nuclei.

Not only is it endothanergetic instead of exothanergetic, it generates a different form of energy. Emperor John Gaius produces thalergy.

Resurrection Theory

As we know from Anastasia's tripod principle, thalergy alone cannot make life, a soul is also needed—meaning that the inverse is true, in that a soul alone cannot make life, thalergy is needed; In order for John to have performed the Resurrection, he would have needed to imbue bodies with both their soul and thalergy to recreate the life he took in the first place. Logically, this means that John would have to be able to create thalergy. John is the only being in the universe who is able to generate thalergy, namely via the continual fusion reaction between a heavy soul and a light soul, also known as Alecto and himself, to produce it.

Let us return to what Augustine says of the nature of his power: “You don’t get your power from Dominicus,” said Augustine. “It gets its power from you. There’s no exchange involved, no symbiosis. You draw nothing from the system. It relies on you entirely, as we all know. You’re God, John. But—as the Edenites are fond of pointing out—you were once a man. So whither that transition? Where does your power come from? Even if the Resurrection had been the greatest thanergy bloom ever triggered, it would drain away over time.”

John is the source of fresh thanergy in the system: he produces thalergy, which he can decay into thanergy. The thanergy in the system is finite, it would drain away after enough time, but his heavy and light soul reaction producing thalergy that can then be decayed into thanergy allows for new thanergy to be introduced into the system; John's necromancy's unique in that it relies on the rapid creation of thanergy via accelerated thalergetic decay, resulting in thanergetic fission.

Why do I say thanergetic fission? Becase it could explain why his necromancy is shown to manifest as large amounts of light, because what does thanergetic fission result in? We see when Palamedes utilises the rapid thanergetic fission of his thanergy reserves to blow up in Cytherea's face:

The sickroom exploded into white fire, and the bonds pinning Gideon snapped. She fell hard against the wall and spun, drunkenly, lurching back down the corridor as Palamedes Sextus made everything burn. There was no heat, but Gideon sprinted away from that cold white death without bothering to spare a glance behind as though flames were licking at her heels.

White light that gives off no heat. What happens when John reassembles himself?

White light. It bleached the insides of your nose and the back of your throat. It hurt coming out your ears. It bled out your eyeballs. It wasn’t a flash of light, more … a suddenness; when it was gone—as though it hadn’t even existed, but had been a luminous hallucination—time stopped.

Speaking of that scene, it is likely the most definitive proof we see that John produces thalergy, because there is no way for his body to function without thalergy, and thanergy cannot be converted to thalergy (as far as we know). That thalergy has to come from somewhere. John, the Resurrector, is able to create thalergy.

Do you know where else we see what is explicitly called a form of resurrection? The endothanergetic reaction that created Harrowhark Nonagesimus: "My parents gassed fifty-four infants, eighty-one children, and sixty-five teenagers, and harnessed that thanergy bloom to conceive me. My mother used the resultant power to modify her ovum on a chromosomal level, so thanergy ignition wouldn’t compromise the embryo. She did this so I would be a necromancer." [Harrow the Ninth]

A large amount of thanergy is generated within an instant by closely-timed apopneumatic shocks caused by sudden death via what Harrow specifically names as nerve gas [Gideon the Ninth]. This brings to mind thanergetic fission as opposed to fusion, due to the fact it relies on thanergy, but the key detail here lies in two factors: the unequal size of the nuclei (souls) involved here, and the fact these souls are shown to have been manipulated.

The souls—emphasis on souls, as opposed to thanergy—of a large amount of children, of varying ages, are forcibly prevented from passing to the River via liminal osmosis due to the sheer amount of thanergy involved, and they are tied to Harrow's soul, as shown by Abigail commenting on her unique spiritual signature: "I’ve counted up to one hundred and fifty signatures contributing to you, and there’s more—they’re stamps rather than complete revenants, of course, which means their spirits were manipulated to leave marks on you in some way, which is fascinating if it means…"

What is a planet's soul? A communal one, the thalergy complexity of a world. What is Harrow's soul? A communal one, exactly two hundred sons and daughters of her House, manipulated to be stamped on her original one. I cannot speak of what this means, but it means that Harrow's soul is naturally heavier than John's: a nuclei formed from two hundred others.

Conclusions

Lyctorhood is nuclear fusion, with souls as the nuclei: the combination of souls produces thanergy as a byproduct of the process of forming a new nuclei; Souls are not a perpetual energy source, and are unable to generate thanergy or thalergy on their own, it is the combination of them that creates thanergy or thalergy.

Petty Lysis, the Lyctorhood of the Saints, is an exothanergetic reaction which produces thanergy as the two souls involved are melded over untold years: it is not a one-way consumption, it is a fusion, but the power transferral does only go one way, due to the fact it is not a mutual death. Grand Lysis is a more complete, and thus powerful, version of this reaction wherein the two nuclei are fully combined within an instant, as opposed to gradually combined.

John's joining with Alecto works on the same fusion principle of Lyctorhood, but the difference lies in the nature of the reaction at the heart of it: he is endothanergetic and produces thalergy as opposed to thanergy, which he can subsequently decay into thanergy to fuel his necromancy. The Resurrection was made possible by him generating thanergy.

Final Note:

I want to point out something before anyone else can, and that is the fact Lyctors could be interpreted as working on pneumatic fission as opposed to fusion: meaning that the constituent souls are split to produce power, and that the exothanergetic and endothanergetic reactions would be reversed—John exothanergetic instead of endothanergetic, and vice versa with Petty Lyctors, which explains why they appear to be thanergy voids: they absorb all thanergy in their surroundings.

I considered this while writing this theory, but ultimately I found that fusion seemed more likel. Alternatively, both Paul and John are examples of pneumatic fusion due to their more complete Lyctorhood while the Petty Lyctors are working on pneumatic fission. I prefer the idea that all Lyctorhood is pneumatic fusion, which is why I ultimately leaned into that interpretation in this post.

Thank you for reading.

#the locked tomb #nona the ninth spoilers #nona the ninth #tlt theory #tlt theories #tlt meta

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lazyyogi · 1 month ago

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Do you want kids some day?

I never wanted to have kids without first having a good reason for doing so.

I think that often people have kids for self-based reasons such as wanting to leave a legacy or as a way to live on after physical death. Or maybe they wanted someone around to take care of them in their old age. While many other people have kids just because they consider it part of human life and they don't really think about it beyond that.

Even if that ends up being good for the parents, I don't think that's very good for the kids.

But eventually, thanks to Khalil Gibran, I did find my own reason for intending to be a father in the future:

Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself. They come through you but not from you, And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.

You may give them your love but not your thoughts, For they have their own thoughts. You may house their bodies but not their souls, For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams. You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.

You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth. The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.

Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness; For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable.

This is how I feel about having children and being a good parent. The way I see it, beings are always reincarnating. If I don't provide a path to incarnation through my own reproduction, then they will find another path.

So if I do choose to provide a path for a being to reincarnate into this world, then I want to help them on their journey. And while I have ideas on how to go about helping, I am also ready to listen to them to find out what they need. Contributing more sane and peaceful humans to this world would be a blessing for all.

That being said, I have great respect for those individuals who have genuinely thought it over and decided not to have children. That too can be a wise decision.

Much love!

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tin-wufborf · 4 months ago

Text

Tin's Favorite Sterek Fics (Part 6)

Hello, hello, hello, and welcome to the sixth installment of this little series of mine! Thank you all again for likes and shares on the previous parts. You all continue to blow me away with your support for this project of mine. Once again, smooches and squeezy-hugs to you all! But only if you want them.

As a quick heads up, we're entering into the "December 2012" era of fics, so you might start seeing a bit of a Christmas theme going on for a for a little bit. Generally, I don't prefer Christmas fics myself, but I'm a sucker for kid and pack fics (you may have already been able to tell), and those tropes tend to work well in a Christmas setting. Consider yourselves warned!

Okay, that's all from me for now. Ta-ta!

List and link to previous/next part(s) below the cut.

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DISCLAIMER: This is me warning you all that some of the fics I've included in this list may cover explicit, dark, and/or "taboo" subject matters. I cannot express enough how little I care what anyone thinks about any of that; all I want is for you to use caution when reading anything I've listed here and to please review and heed whatever tags the authors have provided in order to keep yourselves safe. Your experience from this point on is your own responsibility, not mine and not the authors'.

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Nothing Satisfies Me But Your Soul by fadedhues (NR | 1/1 | 1,259)

“My name is Death,” he sings softly, and it’s fucking pretty, like he’s singing a lullaby to the winter sky, “and the end is here.”

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must be a devil between us by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 2,081)

"What? Why would-- Derek, why would your daemon encourage mine to touch you?" Stiles fakes calm well, but his heart gives him away.

"Because Luminera is a deviant." He shrugs. He accepted Luminera's reckless behavior years ago.

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souls of mischief by hoars (M | 2/2 | 2,695)

Stiles’ first memory of his mom is green.

Her green eyes, her green dresses, her green scarves, her green blouses and her green barrettes.

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with the darkness fed by Rena (NR | 1/1 | 2,835)

It takes him several tries to dial the right number; his hands are slippery with blood (warm and sticky and bright red) and his entire body is shaking with the aftermath of puking his guts out, his breath is burning in his lungs and the phone keeps eluding his grasp.

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What Could Have Been by thingcalledlove (G | 1/1 | 2,971)

The camera zooms in on the face of a very beautiful woman who looks vaguely familiar.

“Who’s the babe?” Stiles jokes, turning to look over at Derek.

“My mom,” Derek replies with a glare.

“Oh, shit, dude, I’m sor—” Stiles breaks off his apology as his eyes drift back towards the screen. Beside Mrs. Hale is another familiar face. One he hasn’t seen in a long time. His mother.

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I Don't Want To Be Saved by Lapin (M | 1/1 | 3,132)

And everyone, everyone has their own ideas about this relationship, they all say the same things, they all do. "He's not good for you," "It's Derek," "This is the fourth night in a row," "What kind of asshole dates a high schooler?" "I'm not okay with this."

But Stiles pulls the red hood up, wanders from the path, and he's picking flowers, and he's breathing, "My, what big teeth you have," and Derek bares his fangs, and yeah. Fuck them.

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Will Wonders Never Cease by thecheekydragon (T | 1/1 | 3,632)

Sheriff Stilinski wonders how Derek Hale fits into his working theory of a gigantic, two-ton pissed off moose shot-putting his son’s jeep.

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Practically Perfect by betp (NR | 1/1 | 3,688)

WE NEED A NANNY PROBALLY. Reqirments: - eyes light up - wants to go places - can travel between dimentions - likes cheesebergers - a wear wolf - lisens to good music - SUPER STRONG - favorit color is pink - has friends who can fly - will merry our Dad

There is a stick figure drawing of a werewolf with red eyes and bared teeth, marrying Stiles on a cloud.

Or, "The one that has next to nothing to do with the kids." This is a straight-up unapologetic Mary Poppins AU.

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Laura is Badass by hoars (NR | 1/1 | 5,079)

Laura's not expecting two teenage boys to burst into the bakery, brandishing lacrosse sticks yelling about “Kidnap!” and “Pedobears!” and “Sex slaves are illegal!”

She’s flabbergasted.

“Cupcake?” Derek offers.

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When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear by owlpostagain (T | 1/1 | 7,817)

There are some salvageable things though. A virtually untouched heavy slate sign that says, engraved in an ornate script that confirms at least one person in the Hale family had a sense of humor (Stiles has a horrible suspicion it might have been Peter), When You Stop Believing in Santa You Get Underwear.

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Beltane by DevilDoll (E | 1/1 | 8,254)

"Watching Stiles heal someone has always been a little uncomfortable for Derek, like he's seeing something intimate and private that shouldn't have an audience. That's nothing compared to how it feels." This is an AU in which Stiles has magical healing powers.

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Your Words Are Robbery by dedougal (E | 1/1 | 12,127)

When Stiles is dragged back to Beacon Hills, he has to face everything he left behind.

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cool story, bro by drunktuesdays (E | 1/1 | 13,087)

Based on a truly ridiculous conversation with Kalpurna about a hypothetical Stilinski Twins situation that ended up sounding something like:

“FUUUUUUCK, is it a sweet valley high situation where Stiles is very aware that his twin is way more attractive and confident than he is, EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE IDENTICAL, and he always ends up with the hotter significant others and more friends and Stiles guesses that's why he's attracted to the pack at first, because it's something that's just his, not his twin's too. But of course, Stiles's twin gets bit and now he's part of Derek's pack, and Derek doesn't snap at him like he snaps at Stiles, never slams him into things, fucking FIGURES, STILES'S TWIN GETS EVERYTHIIIIIIIING.”

Kalpurna/good ideas OTP.

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Stay. by paradis (E | 1/1 | 15,537)

He leaves because the press of Derek’s lips and the sting of his teeth against Stiles’ neck are still burning his skin, and he can’t stop touching them, but then he remembers Derek telling him he’s not pack, he never was, and that he doesn’t belong here.

He leaves because Lydia asks him too, but he doesn’t go back to Beacon Hills because no one asked him to come back.

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What To Expect When You're Expecting (A Litter of Sourwolf Puppies) by Brego_Mellon_Nin (E | 1/1 | 17,422)

The Sheriff sighs and plops down in a chair opposite his son.

“Stiles, I’m going crazy here. We need to get you to a doctor. You sleep like you’re trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records, and your eating habits are bizarre! You vomit around the clock and for some reason only the tea your mother used when she was pregnant will get your stomach to settle down for any length of time. Is there something you aren’t telling me? Can werewolves get guys pregnant? I’ve noticed how you look at that Hale kid-”

Stiles meeps and flails, sloshing tea down his front. Luckily it’s not scalding anymore, but still hot, so he jumps up and wrenches his shirt off.

“God, dad, no! Guys can’t get pregnant, that’s ridiculous, it’s like...”

“Like werewolves being real?” his dad questions, deadpan.

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Home by cofeeinallcaps (E | 1/1 | 18,464)

Derek has bought a beautiful house. Stiles can't stay away. (In which everyone hangs out at Derek's place all the time and Stiles tries but fails not to fall for a certain socially inept alpha.)

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Assistant to the Consulting Detectives by idyll (T | 9/9 | 18,674)

Stiles is going to NYU and ends up working for Sherlock and Joan.

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Metamorphsis by happyevraftr (E | 1/1 | 20,755)

Life isn’t easy for Stiles Stilinski. This is a truth he’d come to accept a long time ago, so it’s no surprise when an enemy pack shows up in town with a mysterious Alpha that’s hell bent on revenge. Things escalate quickly when Erica goes missing and Isaac is attacked by the new pack. As if that isn’t enough to handle, Stiles own body begins to betray him and he must decide whether to die as a human, or live as a werewolf.

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The Birthday Fic by seussian (E | 1/1 | 21,066)

It's Derek's 30th birthday, and Erica and Boyd have been kidnapped. Again.

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Tutor!Verse series by betp (10 works | NR-M | 41,579)

They meet when Derek is seventeen and hates history almost as much as he hates his ex, Kate, and Stiles is sixteen and taking junior-level history classes. Then they fall in love and do dates on each other and I didn't mean for any of this to happen. By which I mean Sterek fic!

1. Not Another Sterek Romance (It Is Absolutely Another Sterek Romance) (T | 1/1 | 2,405) In which Derek is the worst at history and Stiles wears glasses. 2. Boys, Interrupted (NR | 1/1 | 1,329) "I am the result of your academic ennui," Stiles summarises. 3. Jeepin' (M | 1/1 | 1,368) Stiles warns Derek four days in advance, resulting in Derek unable to concentrate in any of his classes that Friday, because all he can think about is his impending gay deflowering, which--jesus fucking christ. 4. Peer Pressure (T | 1/1 | 1,615) "Can't even answer a simple question, he's too good for that. I hope he knows what we do to kids who are too good to talk to us." 5. Golden (NR | 1/1 | 947) "It's like a recipe for a summer romance movie from the 80s." 6. Catch Me a Catch (NR | 1/1 | 1,828) In which Allison will never understand Stiles' sense of humour, Scott will never understand what Stiles sees in Derek, and Derek wonders what he would spend his free time doing if he'd never met Stiles. (The answer is CoD and literally nothing else.) 7. Education (NR | 1/1 | 2,990) "I'll try anything once." He pauses. "With you. Only with you."

In which Stiles and Derek have been dating for three years, and Derek decides to try something new. 8. Viridian (NR | 1/1 | 5,967) "Dude, forget Stiles." 9. Biological Imperative (NR | 1/1 | 2,206) "I want to have children with you someday," Derek interjects firmly. "Not that I know why I seem to think that would be a good idea." Tin here. Just wanted to pop in and say that this part (part 9) is the conclusion to this series as the next part is a WIP reboot of the series.

10. i brought my pencil (NR | 3/? | 20,924) Your typical, classic nerd/jock au, but with a shittier attitude. (A reboot of this series. Sorry guys.)

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#teen wolf #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #sterek fic rec list #sterek fic rec #fic rec list #rec list #fic rec #tin's rec lists

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