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court-jobi · 2 months ago

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Reheat

((banner by me! I don't own Horikoshi's work OR the mindblowing art of @gsony24))

Pairing: Midoriya x reader (support-hero!reader x teacher Izuku)

Words: 2.5k

Rating: G~

Warnings: comfort fic, tooth-rotting fluff here y'all, established relationship, work stress (livin' vicariously), talks of the future, a few fem pronouns used, but generally gender-neutral

Summary:

Izuku letting himself into your home after a long day has become comfortable background noise, and one you love to hear while you're bogged down. Work has been following you home all week. He's proud of you, without a doubt... But equally concerned when he sees your dinner half-eaten, your mind scatterbrained and racing faster than he can anchor you, and your angel eyes in desperate need of some TLC. He's cemented his place in your heart- and sees no reason he can't make himself at home here already.

A/N: do I have bigger fics in mind? Yes. Did I write this instead of sleeping bc I love soft, encouraging Deku? Also yes. Izuku Midoriya is a motivational speaker.

For my My Hero Academia Masterlist, check it out here!

Read on AO3

“Hey honey! I’m here!”

Over the tinny, background chatter of a podcast streaming from your phone, you call back to Izuku letting himself in.

“Hey you~” You throw interest into your voice, but still stayed tuned into your work.

“Ooo what’s this… What did you make here on the stove?”

“Risotto– it’s Italian~ has lots of veggies and good stuff in it,” you didn’t stop your typing pace, engrossed too heavily in getting an email out before you forget about it and Gmail has to ‘nudge’ you, again, “-gave it a Japanese spin with what I had in the house.”

“Oh wow– oh my gosh, honey– this is so good!”

You look up since your darling man has just appeared in your doorway, sparkly eyed to see you, but equally sated by what’s just graced his mouth. It was a meal you could babysit between taking a quick shower, getting ready for work, letting its flavors marry in the fridge throughout the day, and popping back on the stove that night.

“I’m glad, happy you like it~”

“D’you eat?” Izuku asks, midbite.

“Mhm. Little bit ago,” You motion to your bowl- but when he comes alongside you, he tuts over noting it's only half empty.

“You didn't finish- you feelin’ ok?”

Having circled back onto your screen, you double take again, this time caught by his perception check over you and feeling guilty.

“Oh. Guess I didn't. I’ll nuke it up here in a bit.”

Izuku, setting down his bowl and starting the -normally alluring- task of rolling up his shirt sleeves to his forearms, comes to your side. However since you’re paying little mind to your peripherals, you missed the show the was making of it. A simple ask of ‘what’re you working on’ came from him, sounding no different than if he wasn't trying to make eyes at you; fact was, you just weren't paying attention.

“Just some stuff for the interns,” the sight of how many tabs are open on your split screen -and in your mind- make you sigh, “With this new role, I kinda feel like you some days. Lesson plans, processing their paperwork; it’s all the stuff you had to turn in as an intern– only now I'm the one dealing with it on the backend.”

Izuku sifted around though your training materials and your propped tablet making itself useful as a second screen. At your handwritten to-do list that’s one of the only things non-digitized nowadays, he makes an offhand comment that your handwriting is nice. It's the kind of cute, ‘blink-and-you’d-miss-it’ things he says that you just hum to, whether you were really listening or not.

When you glance up to him again, you see he’s watching you with a caring gaze and feel caught.

“What’re you looking at?” you tease, typing again to break the silence.

“A pretty girl…” Izuku teased lightly, “who doesn’t know when to take a break.”

You type away at his call out– the need for a night off at Izuku’s side is exactly why you've been working so hard at this. You figured you'd get some of this extra prep work under control now, so by the time he rolls around on Wednesday for your standing date n–

You freeze.

Realizing what day it is in your planner. It's Wednesday. For dinner.

“Oh my God- -you’re here.”

“Mhmmm~” Izuku really doesn't want to laugh, but his sucking in of a lip isn't hiding it well.

“ohmygod imtheworst!!” you refresh your face in both hands, talking through the gaps.

“You are not!” Izuku chuckled, setting your notes down. “You just got busy with all the new tasks, because you’re just that good.”

A faithful, scarred hand comes over to smooth over your back, pulling you over into a little half hug. You sink against him, relishing in his little forehead kiss. He can try all he likes to cure your embarrassment, but you look to him apologetically.

“I’ve never forgotten our dinner dates, ‘Zuku…”

Your darling shrugged unbothered, “Had to happen sometime. It’s no big deal.”

“Is to me,” you pressed- very much bothered.

“Honey,” Izuku chips your chin up, “You’re too hard on yourself. It’s ok, these things happen! I mean, you still made a delicious dinner; even if it was a bit of an oversight I would -in fact- be eating it.”

The pang of guilt hits you at forgetting. This was just a symptomatic sign that the brilliance of your taking on the additional role of Education Coordinator at the agency was perhaps an over-zealous one. Not only to be on-call for your base job as a linguistics quirk specialist, but to balance another full time role on the office hours end? Why did you convince Fatgum this was a good idea? It sounded like a stellar idea back at the beginning of the summer…

Now you’re forgetting not just who you’re supposed to be eating with- but also eating in general.

“I’m glad you did,” you boost Izuku’s elephant-like memory, “It feels so normal to have you here, it's not like I completely forgot I’d see you today. I just– maybe I… thought I was gonna take some to you, since I wouldn't see you till later in the week? I dunno.”

“C’mere- never got a real hug.”

You rise at his hand’s insistence, and stretch up into his full, healing embrace.

“Hi baby,” you cooed pitifully.

“Hi, my angel. Missed you today.”

You hummed at the affection, sinking into his neck more out of your residual misery.

Izuku simply took advantage of you being close to sway you in his wide stance- a dance, sans music.

“I appreciate you cooking so much for us,” he spoke gently from his perch over your shoulder, “I was looking forward to it all day, y’know? You’re always so thoughtful with everything you make.”

He’s pressing into you with compliments- against your hard wiring to accept…

“‘Zuku.”

“It’s true~ you’re generous! You remember what my favorites are, and leave out the stuff I don’t like; you even send me leftovers. And you make snacks and treats for when the midnight munchies strike– what can’t you do?”

“Zuku…”

“And you–” he runs a hand through your hair as he sways your shy self back and forth, “-- make for the most funny, beautiful, fascinating, most inspiring company I could ever hope to share a meal with.”

Head thunking onto his shoulder, you playfully land a closed fist on his chest with a muffled, whiny plea for him to stop.

He sighs, all in good humor.

“This streak of yours... I really have my work cut out for me, don’t I? Still can’t imagine how bad it must be in that brilliant mind that my incredible girlfriend has such a hard time accepting the tiniest compliment. Maybe it’s all that late night American comedy you watch...”

You exhale then fix him with your coolest look of sarcasm, anything to show that you have a modicum of having your shit together. So you cope with humor- who doesn't?

–shame that it looks too much like a pout and makes you decidedly not threatening at all, because Izuku just beams brightly at you in response.

“Oh! Now there’s my melty princess- I was wondering where she went.”

And at that, the aloofness was gone, and you snort into a laugh and hug him tighter around the neck. He even scoops you up and gives you one little twirl for good measure.

When he set you down, Izuku cups your face in his hands and gifts you a few more forehead kisses before demanding your sights.

“Now. We need to get you to finish eating first. Then, what can I do to help you tonight, hm? How can I make things easier for you?”

With a softer eye to your desk’s work, you sat back down staying connected to your ever doting Izuku by way of your hand in his. You tried again to focus back. You're newly refreshed by his affections and attempt for a more positive outlook,

“Well, my goal of doing this tonight was so that I didn’t have to go in early tomorrow. Course, if I do run myself ragged tonight, I won't be any good to anyone there– or for you, here. But I think if I pare it down to just getting these e-sigs ready and getting their time-in checklists set up for their work study onboarding, that would give me a good enough start, and I can fill in the rest of their packets tomorrow. But that means I’d need -ugh- maybe… another hour of work tonight?” you looked to him for his approval, “I have a template, so it shouldn’t take me forever.”

“Alright! You’re the boss,” Izuku supported your plan with a smile, “How about I take care of the kitchen for you while you finish up?”

“You do not have to clean my kitchen!” you spouted back, offended– causing a laugh to burst from him, “It’s not funny! I didn’t ask you to come over after a day of work yourself to just slave away at my mess.”

Izuku fixed you a look, as if you knew better.

“I think I can tidy up a kitchen, no matter how busy of a day I’ve had. Yours isn't even over yet- so when precisely were you going to have the energy to hammer at it? You’ll enjoy not having that mountain waiting for you.”

You huffed, but smiled gratefully all the same.

“Besides, it’s just me- doing something nice for the woman I love; and I happen to like doing nice things for you. You deserve a clean space, hun.”

He cleared off your previous bowl to reheat along with your empty water cup. Shaking the hollow straw inside to where it clinks, he knows exactly what you need and tells you so.

“You are getting a screenless break first, though. Something tells me you didn’t the first time around~”

Settled with a fist propping up your face, you swooned over this darling man.

Trusting Autosave to have done its job, you shut the laptop down blindly, “Sure didn’t~”

Izuku just rolled his eyes and stepped out of the study.

You neaten up the collated stack of applications laid out by you and stepped over to the couch, taking a kneeling perch on the end while you sought out a new record for the player on the side table. Setting one on, it was able to fire up and fill some new life into the room with a movie score you haven’t listened to in a while. Everything just sounds better on vinyl.

When Izuku came back in the room, he’d found his houseshoes and returned with renewed interest to your music choice- and with a pleased expression seeing you actually lounging and taking things easier than how he found you. He traded your reheated meal in exchange for your blue-light glasses, which he’d then clean with a pocket square and set back on your desk once they were smudgeless.

“Now, that’s a better sight~ here you go, all set for later.”

You enjoyed Izuku’s company while finishing dinner, listening to him outline his workday while he cradled your legs in his lap. He'd had a pleasantly eventful one, with plenty to say about it. You’d play ‘two truths and a lie’ sometimes when he didn’t want to bore you with a particularly mind-numbing schedule, which pleased you just as well. You excelled at it, while he gave away his fictions every time- a terrible liar for the game, but great for a faithful partner, you reasoned. You truly loved hearing him talk and talk, your love only growing at the domesticity of this feeling and never wanting that to change.

Once you were done, you were honestly content to hear him continue his tangent, but it seems his inner discipline was stronger than yours.

“Alright, now to attack that sink~”

You bemoaned again for his sake. But since you made such a small, affected noise, Izuku paused mid-rise, and sat back down a bit closer to you. He stretched an arm over the back of the couch, encouraging you to come closer and met you for a sweet kiss in the middle.

His mere presence reverted you to a younger self sometimes– one desperate for his attention, good or bad. It wasn't the loveliest impulse, but he clearly thinks it's all part of your charm seeing as he gives in every time, anyway.

“Thing is,” Izuku spoke softly while adoring the hand now placed in his, “If things keep going the way I think they’re going -the way I hope they’re going- it’s.. not hard to imagine that there’s gonna be both our dishes to clean up all the time. In our kitchen, in our home someday. So this is just practice, right? Seems perfectly normal to me. How it should be.”

That idea bloomed in your chest, the thought of sharing a home with him- where this exchange of chores and time together could be your new normal. Only it would be a future where he didn’t have to leave at the end of the night and go back to a bed with compact, collegiate-designed storage at the campus accommodations he stays in on the instructor's wing. He’s got enough to get him by, but he noticeably prefers your home here closer to downtown.

“And what happens when we both wanna ditch the dishes?” you countered sweetly.

Izuku smirked, “That’s what a dishwasher is for. Another thing we’d own together…”

“Forward thinking, there.” You relished that idea.

Izuku nuzzled your forehead thoughtfully.

“You’ve been doing things on your own for a long time– and it shows, sweetheart.”

His words came carefully, from a tender place spoken in confidence between you, referring to when you’ve spent other late nights like this one fueled with hot tea and a desire to keep ignoring the clock.

“And I know you’ve been used to that since you’ve been traveling so much, not even having roommates to help keep you company or lighten the load. I keep wishing I could have known you sooner, had more time with you before you had to learn some of those things the hard way… but I’m happy I get the chance to, now. I’m here now, and you’re not alone, so I hope you’ll let me take care of you when I can.”

With another happy sigh forcing your eyes shut, the mental will it took to not let the tears of a perpetual eldest daughter leave you was intense.

Izuku Midoriya never failed to hit the nail on the head when it came to pep talks; he does the same with his students. But why his ones aimed at you had to have a Full Cowling dash of heartfelt anecdotes in it, you don't know. But you're grateful. You're so grateful for him.

“If you don’t quit talkin’ like that, Izuku, I will never let you leave this condo.”

He chuckled again, lifting your cheek for another kiss, “Twist my arm, love.”

Ultimately, he rose to quit distracting you, but not without you watching him leave with a hunger you’d never felt for another soul before.

#izuku midoriya #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #mha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #mha #bnha #izuku fluff #midoriya fluff

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4dkellysworld · 3 months ago

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After deciding 'it is done'

This is more of a manifestation themed post (it's a draft from March when I spontaneously felt like writing it but didn't post it) because I felt like it but I'd appreciate if I didn't get any asks about manifestation* (unless I change my mind later) cos I'll share what I can and there's a lot of material available already! You can see my past post on this topic here. For more posts on it, see @4dbarbie-archive and realisophie's posts here and here and there's also some over at @ndjournal in the experience sharing tag.

*Also because I don't want to send mixed messages to the readers of this blog. I see conscious manifestation as a way to challenge & break limitations and concepts from the mind, not to get things in the world (kinda like Neo learning to bend the spoon in the Matrix if you get me lol). The latter will only pull you deeper into ego and the world, which isn't conducive to self-realization (if that's your goal) if you're focused on satisfying ego and the worldly life. If that makes sense and you resonate and agree with that, then we are on the same page but not everyone is and that's okay too, just do what feels right to you. Just sharing my reasoning :)

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I've been reading this book called Parallel Universes of Self because I read the author Frederick Dodson had an interesting reality shifting experience. I didn't expect to read info on manifestation but they are pretty much the same. I have a few books of his that I'm skimming through out of curiosity and there's some interesting stuff (I might share some other things later, he doesn't just talk about manifestation, but also consciousness, reality and even non-duality).

I thought I'd share the below excerpt because it's explained really well and might help some others. It's also a nice succinct summary of what Ada and Soph talked about for materialization/manifestation as well. I can remember pretty much 95% of the things I've ever "manifested" were from when I acted the way he described after I had decided "it is done". It's easier to do this for things you don't care about because you just end up forgetting about it entirely and then it shows up and you're like 'oh yeah!! nice'.

In the hours, days and weeks after simply rest in the new viewpoint, rest in the fulfilled reality. This means that you don’t try to “make it happen” because you have already claimed it as real. You don’t affirm, visualize, repeat or wait for it. You don’t hope for it to come in some future. Because you have claimed it as already real you don’t even think about it much either. You don’t ask when, how, where it will show up. Instead you simply do what offers itself to you throughout the day, and this will involve commonplace activities. Daily life continues in a natural manner without neediness or lack. Once in awhile you may want to re-feel the body sense of the chosen reality, and enjoy what you have claimed as true, but often not even that is necessary. Furthermore you needn’t be “acting as if” the desired reality is manifest, for that still implies separation. Simply cease to behave in a way that presupposes that it is not already so. You may refuse to ascribe relevance or importance to any events that seem to contradict your newly chosen reality. From the new viewpoint such events may still exist and come up but they are no longer relevant enough to be reacted to and interacted with. They may be the way things are at the moment, but they are no longer the way you are. The corresponding physical manifestation will appear when you stop needing it, chasing after it, looking for it but are instead willingly and lovingly identified with it…not for the sake of “making it manifest” *, but for the sake of experiencing its joy in the here, now and today. *Because trying to make it happen/manifest reinforces the idea/belief that it isn't

This is the same as what 4dbarbie said about getting ego out of the way or as Lester Levenson said, let go and let God. Just let it happen and stop trying to control the process because the more you try, the more you reinforce the fact that it isn't already so. Basically stop putting in effort once you know it is true, just continue knowing with calm and ease that it is the way you want it. Ada also said here:

If you have thoughts like "I need to say my affirmations", "I need to check my state", you're not living in the end but still desiring. When you're able to look at the thing you desire as being something that was once a dream, but now only a memory - you've entered the state of the wish fulfilled. When desire turns into identity, you know you've succeeded in fulfilling yourself.

Yes we're conditioned to think we need to work hard and put effort to earn things in the world but when it comes to manifesting, this sort of mentality will only sabotage and hinder your success. You can literally just decide you have it and then never look back. This sort of mindset can take a bit of time and practice to get used to because it is not something we're used to but the more you practice, the easier it gets.

Here is an excerpt from an astral projection book (I think it's from The Illusion of Method?) I thought was really apt at describing this too. He's talking about AP but you can apply it to manifesting or pretty much anything as well.

Unless you are masochistic, I ask you to reconsider the painful idea of obsessing about time. Bear in mind that results will come whenever they have to, and counting the minutes won't make the outcome arrive faster. It's best if you just forget about it, and accept that it is something that you can't control. You must be patient—most of the time the desired results arrive immediately after giving up control of time. If you are frustrated and/or are afraid of failure, then it means you believe you are in control—and this translates into the feeling that you are responsible for both positive and negative results. Well then, stop thinking that way! Exempting yourself from responsibility is the best course of action there is. As seen in the previous chapter, those who project on command are the ones who couldn’t care less about AP. But the more you obfuscate yourself, the lesser your chances of success —and trust me, you won’t want to get trapped in that vicious cycle. Astral projection works when you stop worrying about failure because you trust that it will happen, whether you “do” something or not.

It’s the same thing: just in the same way that being hasty for sleep to occur keeps us wakeful and alert, being expectant over the OBE will keep us caged in the physical body. If the mind is constantly thinking about the goal, it can easily enter a state of expectancy* and impatience. In such state, the mind is no longer relaxed because expectancy is a state of unrest. This form of tension is what hinders the outcome—thus, the key to being relaxed (i.e., essentially lacking mental tension) is to forget about the goal entirely. If you don’t have the goal in mind you don’t enter a state of expectancy, and therefore you are free from mental tension. *expectancy is the same energy as trying to make something happen.. reinforcing the idea/belief that it isn't so

So, exempt yourself from responsibility means there's nothing more to do because ego is not in control and can do nothing.

#writings #from my drafts #creation

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moonstruckme · 1 year ago

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hi! i hope you're having a good day<3 i was wondering if you could write a remus x fem!reader where they aren't really dating but everyone knows they like each other (them included) where r has kinda mean friends? like, they leave her out of everything and she constantly feels bad about it. and ever time she tells remus he's like "you should drop them, you deserve better" and he's just trying to get her to see that she deserves better?

Thank you <3

modern au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 736 words

Remus can feel a heaviness building where you sit on the couch next to him.

He lets his eyes slide subtly in your direction, and you’re frowning at your phone. Not an upset frown, no pursed lips or drawn brows, just a slight downturn of the corners of your mouth. You look defeated, and Remus can’t abide it.

“Everything alright, love?”

Predictably, you soften like butter at the endearment, and your expression as you turn to him is kind if not happy. “Yeah, I’m good,” you say, and Remus pretends not to know it’s a lie. He waits. Your eyes drop to his shoulder, one thumbnail picking at the other distractedly. “I just wish…I wish that if my friends were going to hang out without me, they’d at least not post so much about it.”

A familiar ache starts up in his chest. “Oh no. What’ve they done?”

You shrug like it’s little to you, but he sees the way you press your lips together, the faint redness creeping up from your neck. He hopes you don’t cry, if only to spare his delicate heart.

“They’re all at Hannah’s place, I guess. Going to go see the new movie premiere.” You laugh. It sounds raw. “I actually asked them if they wanted to go do that tonight, and they all said they were busy.”

The frailty of your voice works like glass shards, cleaving Remus clean open. “Darling,” he says, and he doesn’t care that you’re not official enough to acknowledge the endearment in its full capacity. You both know he means it well enough. His hand slides atop yours the way one tempers one ingredient by adding a tiny bit of another before the rest. You soften at his touch, and Remus goes all the way, curling his arms under yours to give your back a firm squeeze. “I know you’re sick of hearing it from me, but they really don’t deserve you.”

A tiny drop of warm wetness slides from your face to his shirt. His own fault, really, but if a good cry is what you need he’s ready to indulge you. “I just want to know what it is about me that makes me so terrible to be around,” you weep, and Remus crushes you to his front unthinkingly, a protective ire swelling within him. He wishes he could go to your friend’s house and give these girls a talking-to right now, but you probably wouldn’t thank him for it. He settles for dragging his palm up and down your back, hip to shoulder and back again.

“Don’t say that,” he pleads with you.

“I know, I’m sorry.” Your sigh is a stilted, shuddering thing. “I’m putting you in an awful position. I don’t mean to fish for compliments.”

“I know,” he promises, his hand stopping where Remus can feel your heart beating through the material of your shirt. “And I’m not saying it out of any sense of obligation, but you really are lovely to be around. I mean” —he pulls back so you can see his face, hoping the sincerity in it will make some headway against your self-doubt— “would I be here if you weren’t?”

You give him a small smile, thin-lipped. “You’re very nice.”

Remus laughs, wrapping his fingers around your upper arms and barely restraining himself from trying to shake some sense into you. “I’m not that nice. But okay, Sirius would never hang around anyone he didn’t actually like, can we agree there?” He takes your silence for acquiescence, and, with a gentle smile, goes on. “Every one of our friends sees how kind, and smart, and lovely you are. They” —he shoots a pointed look at your phone— “are the only ones who don’t. That’s how I know you’re not the problem, sweetheart,” he says, softer now. “They are.”

You look him in the eyes as you take a deep breath. This one goes in and out steadier than the last, and some of the tension in his own chest eases. “Thank you,” you tell him.

Remus can’t help himself; he pulls you in for another hug, selfish to his core. “No thanks necessary,” he says firmly.

“I guess the only thing to do,” you say, voice muffled against his shoulder, “is to stop trying to make plans with them and hang out exclusively with you.”

Remus laughs. He doesn’t hate the sound of that.

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rae-writes · 1 year ago

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familiars

Mammon, Satan, Asmo || 0.8k wc || crack post [to make up for all the angst recently] ft. menace mc (Tannie's is my favorite bc that's literally me)

Mammon

The second born was on his way to Lucifer’s office again when he saw you plopped on the common room floor

You had tons of materials surrounding you : scissors, needles, thread, fabric, small stickers— even glitter glue!

Mammon didn’t have the time to stop and ask why, he just chalked it up to his little human just doing their weird little human things

After he was dismissed from Lucifer’s office (and after a 3 fucking hour long lecture), he made his way back to the common room, but you were gone

In your place was a yellow sticky note that read “Hey Mammon! Don’t freak out, I just went outside for a bit <3”

And that made him freak out even more

Because it was raining like all fuck out there

So he scrambles to the entrance hall and throws open the front door, ready to yell, when he just stops

You’re crouched down on the steps with an umbrella over you while his crow familiars hop around your feet

They’re all decked out in tiny rain hats, rain coats, and some of his older ones even have small rain boots

Currently, you’re putting a glittery gold lookin set on Mammon’s youngest crow and the demon’s heart swells

The crows notice him fairly quickly and begin to jump around even more, making you look back and beam

“Hi Mamoney! Alright little fella, you’re all good to go now! Go say hi to Mammon!”

He could cry. Literally sob at how fucking cute this is

“Aw, guys! Look at ya!” He pets them over their hats, grinnin’ ear to ear, “Mc. You didn’t tell me you wanted to parent the kids with me.”

You laughed, making him grin even more. “You mentioned them getting cold when they got rained on so I figured I’d help out! Don’t they just look so cute?!”

Mammon’s eyes were practically heart shaped, “y-yeah…”

(he absolutely gets you and him a rain set so you can all go out in them like a big family)

(and yes his brothers made fun of him for it and no he didn’t care— especially not when you slapped them with your wet rain hat)

Satan

You and Satan were out on a simple walk. A relaxing, uneventful walk

That is until you get approached by a fucking unicorn

You don’t know what the hell to do or say- you just kinda stand there staring for a minute while Satan pets his uh…friend. He chuckles at your response, raising an eyebrow when you hold a single finger up

“Someone either slipped me some severe drugs or you’re just a stone cold traitor who did not tell me he was bffs with this gorgeous creature. Both of which I will take offense to.”

“I deeply apologize for my transgressions, my love.”

You glanced at the unicorn with a look of ‘can you fucking believe this guy’ before raising a hand, “May I?”

You received a neigh, to which you leaned in closer and stroked up its nose, where you then received a delighted huff

“I would die for you.”

Satan snorted, shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter. His laughter only got louder when his familiar looked at him with the equivalent expression of ‘how dare you keep this human from me’

“Yes, yes, I should’ve introduced you two sooner. Are we done pouting now?”

You and the unicorn looked at eachother. Then at Satan. Then back to each other. “No.”

He smiled, still amused, “then how about a ride through town? I’ll walk beside you.”

“Like the peasant you are. Alright- onward, Uni! Let’s go kick a guy in the gut.”

...perhaps Satan had been leaving you alone with Belphie for too long

Asmo

For once (though not for long), the House of Lamentation was peacefully quiet

Most of them were doing their own thing in the common room, existing without a hitch beside each other— a perfect day, in Lucifer’s opinion

“EEEEKKK!”

The sound was extremely high pitched and cracked, but it was written off as ‘just Mammon doing something stupid again’

Yeah…until he walked through the door asking what the hell that noise was. Then they all did a headcount- you were the only one not present

Asmo turned into the world’s biggest track star in that moment and made his way to you first, finding you floating in mid air at the entrance hall

And on the floor was a sleek black scorpion just…sitting there

“Hon…don’t tell me you’re scared of my gorgeous little baby?!”

You stared at him like he was fucking nuts— which you thought so in that moment. “I’m sorry, I was a bit too focused on the stINGER!”

“He doesn’t sting anyone unless I tell him too, Hon, no worries!”

…’no worries’ he says, as if the creepy thing wasn’t among the most dangerous animals to humans. And a human, you were

In fairness, the scorpion was not so horrible looking. It’s tail faded into a hot pink like Azzy’s horns and it’s feet(?) we’re tipped with gold. And it had a faint sparkly coat. Of course.

“Okay…I can deal with this…I guess he is..kind of..pretty..?”

“Indeed he is! I shine him myself! You wanna hold him?”

“No, that’s alrig— STOP BRINGING IT CLOSER!”

#obey me x reader #om x reader #mammon x reader #om mammon #satan x reader #om satan #asmo x reader #om asmodeus

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puma-riki · 19 days ago

Text

No One Noticed...

Warnings: consistent cursing, kms/kys jokes [Subject to change every chapter]

Status: Ongoing (Start: 092124)

Taglist: @bee-the-loser @iaintseggsy @channieismylove @yangjungwonnie @luluvhs @nikiswifiee @kingofthekards @skepvids @sammie217 @sh0dor1 @sirens-dreams @starfallia @polarisjisung @minhosimthings @mochiwonz @jiiyen @strawberrieswithchocolateo3o @ritzy-dream-boy @roseangelxfuma @sugarikiz @stvrriki @eczlipse @ddolleri @dangerousgardenchild @roarr-ki | Comment on any chapter from No One Noticed... saying you want to be added to the taglist!! or send me an ask !! | bold could not be tagged :c

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A/N: No header picture because there's a limit of 30 images my bad ANYWAY ENJOY OR WHATEVER There are written parts sprinkled in with the pictures!

16. 𝖎 𝖜𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖕𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖈𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚…

6:52pm

Ni-ki stood outside the door to your apartment, taking a steadying breath. He checked his reflection in his phone, giving himself a quick once-over. Running a hand through his hair, he tried to look a little more put together before knocking.

It took a couple of minutes before he heard rushed footsteps approaching, and he jumped slightly when he heard a sudden, dull thud from the other side.

"Shit," he heard you mutter.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the door swung open. You stood there, breathless, eyes wide with slight embarrassment.

"Hey," you said, a little flustered.

"Did you just run into the door?"

"No… must've been the wind you heard or something," you said biting your lip to stop a laugh from bubbling up and glancing to the side as your cheeks tinted pink.

Cute.

He stifled a snort, but the warmth in his smile gave him away. He liked this side of you—the side that was relaxed enough to laugh at yourself. Two months ago, you barely even looked him in the eye outside of tutoring sessions. Now, you were inviting him over, letting him into your space. And more than anything, you felt comfortable enough to make jokes with him, even silly ones like this.

"Anyway sorry, I'm still finishing getting ready, come inside!" You told him, stepping aside for him to enter.

When he did, you closed the door. He took a moment to look around from where he stood. Your place was minimalist, which he kind of expected since you were only here for college, but it still had so much of you written all over it.

Lamps scattered across the space, each unique in size, color, and style, providing a warm, almost cozy ambiance. It was so… you.

There was a single coaster on the coffee table holding a cat-themed mug that seemed to have been left there for a while. A Nintendo Switch rested in its dock below the TV. The dining area was just three bar stools facing the kitchen, simple but functional. It was clear you hadn’t lived here long, but it already had a kind of charm to it—a charm that felt uniquely yours.

Before he could look any further you rushed past him, "My rooms down this way." You turned to him to nod down the hallway, gesturing for him to follow.

He trailed after you, and by the time he entered, you were already sitting at your desk in front of a small mirror, makeup products scattered around. He couldn't help but smile to himself. Two months ago, this would’ve been unthinkable, he mused. Back then, you’d kept things strictly professional—biology, study notes, and maybe a little small talk. Now he was here, watching you get ready for a night out with him and his friends.

"Wow, I've only seen your room on Facetime. It's kinda weird being here for real," He awed as he looked around. He found it to be true that a girl's room was a museum of everything she ever loved. You had posters of different bands and music artists on the walls, your desk had piles of papers, that he assumed were a mix of schoolwork and study materials, and a bunch of random trinkets.

"Look, this is where you'd put me..." He joked in faux amazement as he stood beside your chair and touched the space you'd usually prop your phone up against when you called him (or more so when he called you)

"I know, is it everything you thought it would be?" Your tone was light as you rubbed your makeup brush in blush (?) is what Ni-ki wanted to say it was.

"Kind of, who knew you were a hoarder." he teased, picking up a small jar filled with buttons, stones, and little knick-knacks, turning it around in his hand.

"Don't insult my jar of things." You lightly elbowed his side from where you sat.

"Where do you even get this stuff, do you pick it up off the street?" Ni-ki was joking, and you knew that. He looked down at you and saw the smile you were fighting as you ran the brush over your cheeks.

"No, actually. Some of those were from my house, and some are things I just… collect" You shrugged, closing the blush pallet and moving to open a tube of mascara. "Which may or may not have been picked up off the street,"

He chuckled, but inside, his heart was doing a different sort of flip. This closeness with him standing right next to where you sat, this openness, this easygoing chatter—it was new, and it made him realize just how much he liked this version of you. He knew you were still a bit nervous about meeting his friends tonight, despite the fact that you’d messaged back and forth with them. But he also knew that this version of you, the one who could laugh about running into doors and defend jars of random knick-knacks, would be just fine.

Watching you apply your makeup, Ni-ki felt a little less nervous himself. It wasn’t just that he was here in your room; it was that you wanted him here. And though he didn’t dare voice it, he hoped you’d want him around for a while.

"Did you hear anything back from the cafe? I haven't heard anything from Jungwon about it yet." He returned the jar back to its spot next to your computer.

"I did! They actually called me a few minutes ago asking if I can come in next week for an interview." Ni-kis eyes lingered on your expression as you talked. Your smile reached your eyes and your eyes had small stars in them. "I'm really nervous, but I'm also excited because I think I'll get it- not to be egotistical." You suddenly turned away from the mirror and pointed your brush towards him as if to prove a point. Ni-ki only smiled, "I was thinking earlier."

"Yeah?" He began to leave his spot next to you and wonder towards the other side of your room.

"Mhm, I think it'll be really cute to work there during the holidays! You know how all the shops around the city set up for Christmas and whatnot, with all the lights and wreaths." You continued to ramble to him as he stopped in front of your bookshelf. You had some volumes of manga and manhwas, albums from different artists, regular books, and those figurines you'd get in blind boxes.

He picked one up and inspected it, It was a duck. Its eyes were drawn as small black circles and had overdramatic rosy cheeks. Its beak was sort of downturned into a child-like pout. To complete its dorky look it had thin silver framed glasses.

"...and I think it'd be-" You turned in your chair towards Ni-ki. You smiled seeing him holding the small duck figure with furrowed brows.

"I found that at a thrift shop, I think. Isn't he cute?"

"He looks dorky," He said disinterested and placing the duck back on the shelf,

"He's cute, you just think you're too tough to think so," You rolled your eyes and turned back to your mirror. You were done with your makeup, which was just mascara, eyeliner, and blush. Now you were focused on your hair.

Ni-ki left the bookshelf and plopped down on your bed, just behind where you sat. He leaned back on his hands and tilted his head, looking at you smooth out your hair.

For a moment, he watched you quietly, almost mesmerized by how natural this felt, just the two of you, getting ready together. He hesitated, then finally asked, “So, how are you feeling about tonight? The whole haunted Halloween event and, you know… meeting my friends?”

You paused, glancing at him in the mirror. “Honestly? I’m nervous,” you admitted, setting down the brush and fidgeting with a loose strand of hair. “I mean, I’m not exactly used to stuff like this—big group outings or… being invited anywhere, really."You spun your chair around to face him, your hands pressed together and shoved between your legs shyly. "And I want your friends to like me, even though they already seem nice online. and stuff”

You felt kind of like a loser shying away from him and admitting to Ni-ki that you didn't get invited out often, But Ni-ki was fighting cuteness aggression as you did so.

Still, he nodded, listening intently, but couldn’t help feeling a bit proud. The fact that you cared about this, about them liking you, meant something to him. He nudged your shoe with his. “Hey, you’ve already won them over. Soon enough they'll start coddling you like annoying older siblings,” he said with a grin. Your lips were pressed into a thin line, still unsure. “I’m serious—they’re really excited to meet you, and they already think you’re great.”

You gave a small, bashful smile, lowering your gaze. “I don’t know… I just... don’t want to be the one weird, quiet person in the group.”

He chuckled. “First of all, that’s kind of my job. Second, you’ll be fine. Just be you—” He sat up and leaned in slightly, voice softer. “Plus, if you get freaked out at the haunted houses, you can use me as a shield.”

"I was already planning on that, don't worry." You rolled your eyes playfully, your heart settling to a steady rhythm.

Your eyes settled back onto Ni-ki. He pulled out his phone as it began to buzz. You assumed it was the others, asking where you were, however you felt no sense of urgency to get up and out the door. You felt perfectly content with Ni-ki, sitting on your bed in your room.

As he checked his phone, you took a quiet moment to watch him. It amazed you sometimes, just how natural it felt having him here, settled into your space as if he belonged. Not long ago, you couldn’t imagine anyone coming over, let alone Ni-ki, of all people—the one who kept showing up in your life, whether through FaceTime calls at random hours or by sliding into the seat next to you in biology. He always seemed to need your attention, as if your presence was somehow grounding for him.

It was new for you, this feeling of having someone who wanted you around, someone who not only noticed you but insisted on being close. And as you watched him now, texting away without any hurry, a soft warmth spread through you.

Ni-ki had become this steady presence, someone who didn’t mind your quieter moments or your quirks. He’d brought an energy to your life that you hadn’t expected, nudging you out of your routines and reminding you what it felt like to be seen and cared for. For the first time in a long time, you felt like your life was shifting, opening up. Maybe even expanding.

"You ready to go now?" He asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

"Yeah, let's go!"

7:25pm

The moment you arrived with Ni-ki close by your side, it had been utter chaos in the best way. Jay and Sunghoon greeted you with a casual wave when they noticed you both approaching. Sunoo gave you a sweet smile, raising a hand in an overdramatic wave, his excitement visible in his eyes. Then Jungwon clasped your hands, grinning widely as he started bouncing in a circle, pulling you with him, his excitement contagious. Jake went for a dap, and though you fumbled through it with an awkward laugh, Jake chuckled, finding your attempt endearing in an older brother sort of way. Heeseung dapped you up too, then ushered you and Jake into a close circle to take a picture.

Watching the whole thing, Ni-ki had a stupid smile on his face (read: lovesick)

Now, you stand next to Ni-ki, arms crossed, trying to keep up with the chaos of everyone’s suggestions. The group has formed a loose circle just outside the amusement park entrance, and Jay holds one of the amusement park maps, pointing at different sections while everyone else bickers and talks over each other. The park is decorated with typical Halloween decorations, red and orange lights, fog that settles just above the crowd's feet, pumpkins and fake bloodies dummies scattered around the place, and of course, scare actors lurking about. You're looking all around you, taking in the scene the park has created especially for tonight. To be honest, you don't mind where you start in the park, you're just happy to be here.

Ni-ki, unbeknownst to you, has been attentive. He wants to make sure you're comfortable and not feeling left out. He wants you to have fun. He's looking at you now, your head is turned away from him, but he can still see the way your eyes flitter around in curiosity. He notices the way your mouth forms a 'o' shape when you see a guy, across the way, on stilts chug some sort of liquid and then spit out fire above the crowd, making them scream and laugh in amazement.

Ni-ki found himself fighting that feeling of cuteness aggression again. When he finally tears his eyes away from you and returns to the bickering coming from in front of him, he notices Sunoo giving him a pointed look. He raises his eyebrows at him to say 'What?'.

“Why would we go to the haunted house first? We basically get that experience out here.” Sunghoon complains, looking mildly distressed.

Heeseung grins at him, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease. “Sunghoon, just admit you’re too scared to do the haunted house right off the bat,” he smirks.

“I’m not scared,” Sunghoon protests, but his eyes dart around the park nervously, as if he’s already anticipating the jump scares lurking within.

Meanwhile, Jake is trying to rally support for the roller coasters. “Listen, if we’re going to do this right, we start with a big coaster. It’s the only way to get our adrenaline going,” he argues, but Jungwon shakes his head, muttering something about “easing into it.”

Amid all this, you notice a shadowy figure moving among the crowd at the entrance. A few feet away, a scare actor in a clown mask, wielding a chainsaw with no blade, is prowling around, clearly on the lookout for his next target. You make the mistake of locking eyes with him. Immediately, the clown tilts his head, holding your gaze for just a moment too long before raising the chainsaw and revving it with a menacing roar.

Your heart leaps, and without thinking, you latch onto Ni-ki’s arm which is shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “Riki,” you say, eyes wide as the clown starts marching toward your group, the chainsaw’s roar growing louder. Ni-ki turns to you, grinning as he realizes the source of your panic.

“Riki, Riki, Riki!” You chant his name in growing alarm, gripping his arm tighter as you try to keep your nerves in check. It’s all part of the act, you know—but the thrill of it sends a giddy sort of panic through you as you cling to him, feeling the warmth of his arm through the cool October air.

Ni-ki laughs, finding it funny—and maybe a little surreal—that you’re hanging onto him so tightly. His heart starts racing, not at the clown, but at the way you’ve buried your face in his arm. His mind spins with the idea that out of everyone here, it’s him you chose to cling to.

The clown is practically upon you two, revving the chainsaw inches from where you stand. You squeal, face pressed into Ni-ki’s sleeve, and he chuckles, entertained and a little breathless from the nearness of you.

The clown eventually shifts focus and charges toward the rest of the group, who’ve remained blissfully unaware until now. Jay, Sunoo, and Jungwon immediately start tripping over each other and scatter, their screams a mix of laughter and terror as they sprint in opposite directions. Jake’s laughter turns to a yelp as he dodges behind Heeseung, who starts to back away, wide-eyed. Sunghoon finally breaks his cool, darting off with a scream, Jake following close behind.

“Not scared my ass!” Jake yells as he disappears into the fog, with the clown in hot pursuit.

Ni-ki laughs, watching his friends flee in all directions. You finally look up, cheeks warm as you let out a breathless laugh, loosening your grip on his arm.

“You good?” he teases, eyebrow raised. “See? I told you I’d be your shield.”

“Wow, my hero,” you reply with an eye-roll, though you can’t quite hide your smile. “You sure did a lot to fend him off.”

Ni-ki grins, his heart still pounding as he shrugs. “Hey, that’s what I’m here for,” he says, a bit softer than usual. His gaze lingers on you, feeling almost like he’s in a Halloween movie himself—just the two of you against the night, your friends’ laughter and screams filling the cool air around you.

A few yards away, Jay calls out breathlessly, “Alright, now that we’ve all survived... haunted house first?”

The group slowly circles back, shaking off the scare as they recover, everyone laughing at Sunghoon’s earlier bravado. Despite the spooky atmosphere and haunted music echoing from the park, you feel more excited than nervous now, especially standing close to Ni-ki.

He gives you a playful nudge as the group starts to huddle closer together to walk toward the haunted house. “Still feeling brave, or do I need to keep an eye out for any more clowns?”

You grin back at him, heart a little steadier now. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Well, I'm not complaining,” he says quietly, his smile lingering as you fall into step beside him, the two of you ready to face the night together.

As everyone steps out of the haunted house, the group’s laughter fills the night air. You’re still riding the thrill of the scares, and Ni-ki has fallen a little behind, watching as you get pulled right into a lighthearted argument between Jay and Sunoo about who screamed the loudest.

“Oh please,” you scoff, nudging Sunoo. “That last jump scare? You practically launched yourself into the wall.”

Sunoo tries to defend himself, but Jake cuts in, backing you up with a grin. “She’s right, dude. Pretty sure the people behind us got scared just from your yell.”

Everyone laughs, and you lean into the playful teasing like you’ve been part of their group for ages.

Ni-ki, a few steps behind, watches with a quiet smile. He realizes that the little things—like the way you laugh at Sunghoon's jokes or casually tease Heeseung about screaming louder than anyone—are what he loves most. Two months ago, he couldn’t even get you to talk about anything other than school, and now here you are, effortlessly blending in with the people he’s closest to.

The others don’t seem to treat you like an outsider anymore either; Sunoo and Jungwon have practically adopted you as a new sibling, and even Sunghoon, the most reserved, has warmed up, tossing you a playful smirk whenever he catches you flinching from the lurking scare actors.

And in that moment, watching you interact with his friends, Ni-ki feels a surge of something he can’t quite name. Part of it is relief, a part of it pride—but mostly, it’s this unfamiliar warmth, knowing that you’ve somehow found a place in his life and his friends’ lives too. It hits him just how much he wants you to stay.

Just as he’s caught up in his thoughts, and mostly admiring you, You turn from side to side, like you're looking for something. You turn behind you and lock eyes with Ni-ki. You smile, having found what you're looking for.

"What are you doing all the way back there?" You stop in your tracks, letting Ni-ki catch up to you. "Scared of the roller coaster?" You tease, Ni-ki scoffs, and shakes his head.

"No, I'm not as jumpy as you are."

"Yeah right, I saw you jump a hundred times already."

#ni-ki trying so hard to win this nonchalant challenge #No One Noticed 𓇼 ⋆｡˚ 𓆝⋆｡˚ 𓇼 #enhypen fluff #enha fluff #ni ki fluff #ni ki x reader #ni ki smau #enhypen smau #nishimura riki smau #nishimura riki fake texts #nishimura riki x reader #ni ki fake texts

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ganondoodle · 1 year ago

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it may not look like it but this took a long time to make

heres a rough ability breakdown for the totk rewrite project (i know its hard to read in the pic so let me clear it up and add some extra info)

theres two ability wheels now, sages are not frame rate killing glitch ghosts around you but their abilities are selected through the wheel on the right (pic is rough concept, it is clearer what is selected and what isnt + it has names in final version, symbols are placeholders as well) and bound to the player, when you acitvate it an aura appears similar to the arm abilities and their ghostly form appears besides you, charging or firing when you hit A while the ability is active

SHIEKAH ARM WHEEL

ANALYZE: zelda tells you info about targeted enemy/NPC, it gives you info about it and informs you more dynamically about important things than the foto-entries do

FOTO its fotos :) zelda joins selfies tho and does silly poses with you

REWIND: functions like the time recall in canon, but this time it is a more developed version of stasis instead

AMIIBO: its ... amiibo

HOOKSHOT: grab onto anything (perhaps restricted but not yet decided), you pull yourself+zelda to heavy stuff, light weight objects are pulled to you (including light enemies like bats or small slimes) grab onto something and hold onto it, usable like a vine (think, ww grappling hook) but with limited duration (battery power?)

AUTOBUILD: like in canon but it uses luminous stones if material isnt all there (or other material you put out to so its more versatile and you are more aware of what you have, no accidental spending then)

BUILD: similar to canon, but no glue (it kinda just fuses with no extra graphic unless pehaps like a bolt or sth), you put stuff together anyway you want; build is also used for weapons (no extra ability needed), you just build a weapon on the ground and pick it up afterwards (it has to be a weapon handle part and then sth else to it, otherwise it wont turn into a weapon)

INFUSE: infuse somethign with ancient energy, useless on normal objects usually(?) but reactivates broken or deactivated tech like elevators and doors; used to dynamically access caves and especially labs (labs serve a similar function as shrines, they are old shiekah labs that broke over time, puzzles are diverse things like traversal and little quests in which you help the researcher ghosts of the people that died in these labs (by the calamity, earthquakes, accidents, or killed by the royal army when their tech was banned and they refused to give it up)

SAGE WHEEL:

WIND GUST: same as in canon

LIGHT SHIELD/LIGHT LASER: zelda uses a shield of light to protect herself in combat, it does not affect the player (or perhaps only when you happen to be within range, which is small, this is more a character thing for her than useful for you) for the player through the selection wheel; aim and tell her to shoot a light laser like rauru did in the moldora cutscene in canon totk (a bit more dynamic) it deals very high damage to anything hit but has the highest cooldown of all abilities; deals extra damage to miasma enemies

THUNDERSTRIKE: similar as in canon, it charges through you however (so the charging only gets stopped if YOU shoot an arrow or get hit)

FIRE .. BOOM THING: similar as in canon but yuno has a little animation of daruks shield around him again :)

YIGA TELEPORT/KOGA CLONES (undecided yet): A: target a location in range and koga grabs you like a naughty kitten and teleports you both to the targetted location, you spawn in a little above ground giving you time to either perform a bullet time move or a sword attack from above B: summons a bunch of koga clones that serve as a distraction for enemies and combat support, they die in one hit (reference to kogas and monk moz kyoshias similar moveset; since there are no sage ghosts around you all the time and a max of two companions (zelda always, sage in sage dungeon) it serves as a replacment for that)

WATER ...WELL(?): sidon gives you a shield of water, elemental effect is applied to weapon and lasts as long as the shield does no matter how many times you attack; if it is hit by an enemy it breaks but you dont take damage; if the shield lasts it entire duration without getting hit it it grants you a percentage of your missing health back upon dissolving (ref to mipha healing powers anyone??)

im open to constructive feedback but overall im quite happy of makign it work out like that, although there are quite a few things that need polish i think this is both realistic and works well with what else i have been writing; remember tho, this is my rewrite so im undoing the things i dont like, like riju never being there when you need her bc she runs right up to the enemy and her losing her charge bc she keeps getting knocked over + overall uselessness of minerus robot (to me)

(totk rewritten project)

#ganondoodles #zelda #art #tloz #loz #totk #ganondoodles rewrites totk #this took me so long omg #i hope this all is somehwat cool #i liked the idea of all the abilities being a thing you can swap on the fly but i couldnt get it to work with the controls #and putting it all into one wheel would be hell to try and select anything #so you choose a wheel with left stick and the ability with right stick #of course the wheel that isnt selected turn grey and all that and it will get a better look too #this is a mock up after all #... took alot of brain juice to try and balance it how i liked #hope you like it too :D

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trashogram · 4 months ago

Text

Dicentra

Husk/Reader

WARNING: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

Includes Cheating/Infidelity, Heartbreak, Mental Breakdown, Betrayal, Despair, Alcoholism/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Not Huskerdust Friendly, Pretentious Title

(I kinda lost motivation to finish the ending, apologies. Oh also I cried.)

You stood there in silence.

The cool mahogany of the door and its frame held you in place. The doorjamb dug into your side, the only thing grounding you. It was a minor discomfort that kept you fixed to the floor of the hotel rather than sinking through it the way your heart had sunk down from your chest.

Husk and Angel seemed none the wiser to your accidental voyeurism, so caught up in the moment were they. You might’ve expected as much, given how unapologetically loud the spider demon was being. His vocalizations were what led you to this room.

To listen at the door.

Husk’s expression was one of concentration, eyes closed as he took the pornstar from behind, almost punishingly.

The doorstop.

Digging into you.

It couldn’t have been more than 30 seconds that you stood there. Less than that. Maybe less than 20 seconds with your whole world crashing down around you.

The door closed without a sound before you walked away.

-*-

You took the elevator down to the lobby of the Hazbin Hotel in a trance. Everything was eerily quiet as the normally raucous area proved to be vacant when you arrived.

It was so quiet. The lobby, yes, but also inside of you. There was no rush of thought or pounding heart to remind you that you still existed. You walked through space and time without feeling.

A gentle susurration of whispers stopped you, and your eyes slid to Alastor materializing from his living shadow to greet you.

His ever-present smile did not waver, but his claret eyes were knowing. The cluck of his tongue was the closest signal to pity that he seemed capable of, though the sincerity behind it was suspect.

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He said. The words were sticky with overly-exaggerated compassion. “It’s unfortunate that you had to find out this way.”

The Overlord’s words caused not so much as a twinge of surprise. It slotted into place in your mind the way pieces of a puzzle did. If anyone knew Husk’s deepest, darkest secrets, it would be Alastor.

“…Do you know… for how long?” You asked, emotionless.

“I wouldn’t waste my time keeping a record of how my pets carry on outside of their duties.” Alastor’s tone curdled with disgust. “But, I think the time for playing pretend is over my dear. You know very well that this isn’t the first time he’s betrayed you.”

You looked past Alastor, taken by an instant of dismay — Husk had been cutting back on the booze for you. He hadn’t done it as a grand gesture or even verbalized it, but the gradual change wasn’t unnoticeable.

It made you proud. Happy. To have that effect on someone, especially someone you cared for so dearly. Someone you loved.

A month ago you’d felt a flash of concern as he emptied a second party-sized bottle of hard liquor. It had been a long time since he’d needed more than one to get through the day since you and he had started dating. At the time, you hadn’t said anything. There were numerous possibilities as to why he might need another pick-me-up. And you’d convinced yourself that pushing him on the subject would only inspire an argument.

You hated to argue. So you kept your worries to yourself as that instance turned into multiple.

“Yes.” You said softly. “I do.”

Alastor’s head cocked to the side as he studied you.

He sighed.

“Naturally I detest meddling with affairs of the heart.” He informed you. “But, if you’re willing to make a deal with me, I may be able to help you. Memory charms aren’t as difficult as you may think and I—”

“Thank you, Alastor.” You cut him off. “… For your honesty.”

Numbly, you turned your back on him and continued your journey out of the hotel.

-*-

Tangled up in warm fur, face pressed into the white stripe of his chest. You breathed in the scent of vodka and faded cherrywood that had become such a staple in your afterlife. You couldn’t imagine going a day without it now.

It was absurd to say in Hell, but you swore to yourself that you’d never felt safer than you did here. In Husk’s arms.

You peered up at him, meeting his luminous yellow gaze before you pulled away briefly.

“I love you.”

-*-

Angel took a deep drag of his cigarette, eyes scanning the room for the hundredth time. It was an exact copy of the room that he and Husk had used last time on the 3rd floor, and the time before that on the 10th floor.

“Would it kill Charlie to use a different theme for these rooms once in a while?” Angel Dust thought aloud. “All that remodelin’ just to get Deja vú no mattah where ya go...”

He inhaled another before glancing at Husk. The cat demon was facing away from Angel while he sat on the edge of the bed, a bottle of nondescript alcohol clutched like a lifeline at his side. His head was hung so low it nearly disappeared behind his slumped shoulders, ears peeled back in shame.

“Aw, come on babe.” The spider quipped. “Ya bein’ too hard on ya’self again. I told ya, what she doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘er.”

Not even a grunt to acknowledge what Angel said. Husk didn’t move, just sat with his wings tucked against his back tightly.

The pornstar frowned, finally crushing the cig on the nightstand. “You ain’t the first guy that had somethin’ on the side while he was already spoken for, ya know. Lotta people don’t got it in ‘em to be faithful, dead or alive.”

Angel Dust sat up straight, knees pulled up from beneath the covers. The urge to stroke Husk’s feathers as his wings quivered just the slightest bit went untouched.

“‘Specially in Hell. All the stuff that goes on down here; this is like nothin’. Bet even Y/N would agree wit’ me.”

Husk flinched at the mention of you, and internally Angel Dust swore. He was babbling and breaking the rules (Don’t talk about the Missus) like some kinda hourly amateur, but he couldn’t stop.

“You’re not a bad guy—”

“Yeah.” Husk replied brusquely.

The mattress sprung back into place as Husk stood up and began to gather up his things from the floor.

-*-

You were a shivering mess when you arrived at the Hazbin Hotel, but you still responded amiably as Charlie offered you an enthusiastic hand in greeting.

The bar, and subsequently the bartender, was one of the highlights of the tour that new residents received. You had been perfectly polite — warm, even, when you greeted him. And if Husk had given a shit, he might’ve been suspicious of your sugary front.

Instead he muttered a ‘hello’ and went to bed that night with the image of your eyes looking up at him through damp locks, and the curve of your lips when you gifted him with a small smile.

-*-

He headed for the bar as soon as he was done showering, and settled in with an inaudible sigh.

Niffty was pitter-pattering around with a dustpan, eye to the ground as she searched for insects to torture. A few newer residents milled around as well, putting the time at or around early noon. The bartender noticed that all of them were glued to the screens of their phones.

Husker grabbed his own, stuffed in his pocket. He’d forgotten to turn it off Airplane mode (one of the weirder pointless things that Hell had to offer, since commercial air travel didn’t exist here).

The mix of joy and dread that filled him at seeing a notification from you left him mildly nauseous. Previous messages from you lit up his screen:

‘Sorry I forgot to say good morning!’

‘You just did.’

‘I meant in person sourpuss.’

‘😒 I resent that.’

‘Awww, poor baby you’re proving my point.’

‘Here i'll make it better’

‘❤️❤️❤️ Good Morning ❤️❤️❤️’

The cat demon smiled as he reread them.

‘Feel better now?’

‘Yeah, yeah, like a million bucks. Thanks kid.’

‘☺️ yay’

Husk scrolled, smile waning at himself from just a few hours ago.

‘How long you gonna be gone for?’

‘Bleh, probably all morning. Charlie gave me a list. A LIST!’

‘I’m sorry baby.’

‘No sorries. I volunteered. Just gotta get it over with. I’ll let you know when I’m almost home!’

‘Love you!’

‘❤️��

His own cowardice staring back at him, Husk scrubbed a hand down his face. You hadn’t messaged him since that morning and the notification was merely you ‘heart-ing’ his reply. Like it was worth a damn.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to bed and never wake up.

-*-

“You can do a lot better than me.” Husk told you one night, nonchalantly.

You perked up from where you sat, blinking rapidly to dispel the sleep from your eyes. “Huh?”

The bartender’s maw quirked up into a smirk as he watched you from the corner of your eye. The ice in your drink had already melted, barely touched since you’d hopped up onto a stool and ordered it.

The pretense was adorable. You were a sweet kid with a crush, thinking Husk didn’t notice how you stared and sighed in his direction everyday.

“‘Said you can do better ‘an me. Unless you got a Daddy you’re lookin’ to piss off by bringin’ an older guy home with you.”

Your eyes crinkled with your grin. “Noooo. No daddy.”

“But if you’re offering, I might be in the market for one.”

Husk turned to you fully, brows raised as you giggled.

-*-

The afternoon passed slowly, ramping up only slightly as it got later. He’d made himself more than a few drinks, and it did nothing to dull the prickling at his spine. Residents trickled in and out, Charlie and Vaggie had returned from whatever outing they’d planned that morning, Angel Dust had just left for work (not a word, not even a shared look, like it never happened), and Alastor was — well who fucking cared where that asshole was. Husk sure didn’t.

But you hadn’t texted or called. You were nowhere to be found.

Husk had tried messaging you a couple times, holding off on a call because… because…

Paranoia had its claws deep inside the old cat, eating him up to the point of hissing with his hackles raised as Charlie appeared on the other side of the bar.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry Husk!” The Princess exclaimed. “I didn’t mean to startle you!”

Husk patted his fur back down, shaking his head. “‘S fine! It’s fine. What can I do for you Princess?”

Charlie’s expression changed from remorseful back to peppy so fast it gave Husk whiplash.

“Oh right! Yeah, I was gonna ask if you knew where Y/N was!” The blonde said, “She was helping me out big time this morning, but I haven’t heard from her so I was just coming by to check…”

Charlie paused, her words trailing away at the look on Husk’s face. His fur was raising again along his arms as he leaned heavily against the tabletop.

“You haven’t heard from her?” He asked, a lump rising in his throat.

“Um, no… not-not since this morning…” Charlie’s brow furrowed. “Uh… and I’m getting the feeling that you haven’t either…?”

Husk swallowed, staring at the polished wood beneath his claws. “No.”

Vaggie had appeared by Charlie’s side in time to listen to the tail-end of their exchange. She looked from her girlfriend to Husk with a frown.

“We can call her again.” Vaggie stated. “If one of you wants to try that, I can round up our other patrons and ask if anybody’s seen her.”

“Good idea!” Charlie said, plucking her phone from her coat pocket. “I’m sure everything is fine! Maybe the FMV requires people to turn off their phones!”

-*-

“I don’t think it’s possible to ‘lose the ability to love’.” You sighed with your head on his shoulders.

You could almost see the other side of the Pride Ring with this view. Husk hadn’t been lying when he carried you up to the very top of the hotel on sure wings.

His arm had wrapped around your waist and pulled you in closer. You laid your head on his shoulder contentedly.

“You’d be surprised how much you can lose when you live long enough, babydoll.” Husk said.

There was something about the silence after that that made you hold your breath. The air between you two felt oddly electric, buzzing with something on the tip of the tongue.

“I used to be an Overlord, ya know.”

-*-

Husk’s eyes bore into his phone. The flurry of activity around him had become a dull roar as he stayed frozen.

All the messages he’d sent you simply showed as ‘delivered’. You hadn’t read any of them.

He’d called you.

And called you.

Adrenaline would coarse through him before each attempt, heart hammering at the chance to hear you finally pick up. Every single one had gone straight to voicemail.

-*-

“What’s‘a matter?” Husk’s smooth voice, and the way he lifted your face up to his own, soothed your soul.

“It’s stupid.” You shook your head. “Angel Dust snapped at me today and I just… still feel bad about it. I wish I knew why he didn’t like me.”

-*-

“Now what’s all the hullabaloo about?” Alastor manifested without warning, surveying the lobby as a small but determined search party began to file out of the hotel.

Night had fallen, and Husk was still trapped by his phone. The screen remained dark.

-*-

Your whimper was swallowed up by Husk as he darted forward to kiss you. He lifted your leg to hook it around his waist, feathers tickling your knee as they fluttered excitedly. The move allowed him to go deeper, to crush you against him until you moved in-sync as one being.

Heat pulsed inside, prompting an involuntary squeeze from you that elicited cries and long, drawn-out moans. You were left spent, head lolling in bliss.

Husk refused to let you go, face buried in your neck as he shuddered. You didn’t question it.

-*-

Husk made the drink for Alastor robotically. Half-formed thoughts of how he should be the one leading the search party for you, not Charlie, wouldn’t develop properly.

The cat demon’s hatred for the ghoul that owned his soul felt like a drop in a bucket compared to the fear that had been growing steadily throughout the day.

Husk gripped the latticework at his knees, tips of his claws clinking against the good liquor bottles tucked inside.

“You seen Y/N today?” He asked hesitantly.

“Ah,” Alastor chimed. “Yes, I did in fact. We crossed paths earlier today in the lobby.”

“This morning?” Husk said.

Alastor tipped his glass back and let the drink spill over his tongue. He took his time appreciating the taste before setting it back down and returning Husk’s gaze, his hands folded beneath his chin.

Ruby red eyes glittered. “Not quite. I’d say it was nearly noon when I found her coming down the elevator. She was a tad green around the gills, but I thought it impolite to mention.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #husk x reader #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #dark fic #angsty #“Trashogram why did you write this? Who would ever want this?”#“I’m glad you asked that. Those are great questions.”#“… Oh I don’t have an answer. Sorry.”

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menaceoffandoms · 3 months ago

Text

LMK analysis rant: Mei

I said I was gonna do this and I'm keeping to my word! The only thing that may stop me is my procrastinating... and the fic I'm slowly writing but uhhhhh-

ANYWAY- We're here to talk about Mei, our favourite white horse dragon pepper girl!

Mei stands out as the most different from her inspiration, something the writers perfectly portray in the yellow-robed demon episode of s4, which is likely to do with how little they had to go off of. Despite being one of the pilgrims in jttw, Ao Lie dose very little in the novel. His most notable chapters being when he's introduced and when the group faces the yellow-robed demon, which is why we met him in that memory in the scroll. Combined with my belief that Mei isn't a reincarnation of Ao Lie -- just his descendent -- means that Mei is one of the most unique characters in the entire show.

There's just less source material for her to draw from, it let's the writers have more fun and do more things. It's not that they don't make the others characters unique -- they like to play very fast and loose with things over all -- but Mei feel like her own complete and original character. She's inspired by Ao Lie in the same way Mk is inspired by Monkie King basically and she all the better for it.

Being the female lead (isn't it interesting how most of the female characters in this show are villans?), Mei is a refreshingly strong, confident girl who begins the show as the most powerful cast member. Being a descendent of the great dragon gives her amazing powers that no other cast members have, a birth right that leads to her being the most protective of her friends and the first to help out in any fight.

What she has in power, however, she lacks in experience. Mei has no mentor -- other than her parents, but I believe its safe to assume they weren't very focused on teaching her combat -- which leads her to trust her gut more, rush into things and learn through observation, like when she mimics what her great x1000 uncle did in s3.

Overall Mei is an excitable, energetic and loving person with a "You only live once" kinda attitude, for lack of a better explanation. Even still, she has her own insecurities and flaws which make her all the more interesting. Due to the shows run time, Mei and many of the other main characters don't really get explored as much as Mk, however what we do see of these struggles and fears is incredibly interesting even on a surface level.

Her tendency to rush head first into danger without first examining the situation or creating a plan, truthfully, tends to work out for her, but it can't always. It's something shown perfectly in s4, when Mei is the only member of the group to not get a star from Master Subohdi, however what a lot of people seem to miss is how Mei actually did earn that star eventually.

When they leave the temple and head to the celestial realm to try and stop Azure, Mei leads them there with no plan at all. As such, they fail and need to be saved by Mk. Faced with proof of Subohdi's criticism, Mei makes the more important amendment to Mk's plan in the s4 special. I don't think we've even seen Mei make a serious plan until this point, which feeds back in to another one of her flaws: being unable to take things seriously.

This isn't something I see said about Mei often, but when watching her character I think it's externally obvious. Don't get me wrong, Mei can be serious, but usually only in moments of vulnerability or high stress. For example: when talking with her pearents, after she gained the Samahdi fire and whilst imprisoned by the Yellow-robed demon.

I think this flaw is Mei's own version of Mk playing dumb. They both behave this way to lessen the emotional impact of serious things, to protect themselves and help those around them deal with trauma or difficult topics. Mei and Mk really are two sides of the same coin and I'd love for them to do more with that in the show.

Going back to Mei's parents, one of her biggest struggles is reconciling who she is with who she's meant to be. She is a noble dragon, a descendent of the great dragon of the West Sea and practically the successor to Ao Lie. It's a lot to live up to and -- evident in episode 3 of season 1; Welcome home -- she doesn't believe she dose.

Mei is confident in her abilities, she's sure of her strength and quick to help those around her, but in the face of her legacy she stands uncertain. It's another thing her and Mk have in common, though in vastly different flavours, and it's interesting how this legacy colours Mei as a character.

She wields the dragon blade, proving herself as a worthy part of her family and gaining the approval of her parents, however the stark difference between her and the rest of her clan is more blatant than ever. We see this perfectly in season 3 when they visit the great Dragon of the East Sea, Mei being put into fancy clothes she instantly ruins in order to have a place to hold her sword. She fights against her uncle, fights against her family, because she knows they'll never understand her. But even still, she knows she's still one of them and she's so proud to be.

Becoming the vessel of the Samahdi fire is only more proof of Mei's legacy and connection to her family. It gives her a moment of pure vulnerability where she vents her frustrations and fears before rushing away, wanting nothing more than to protect the people she cares about.

When Red Son finds her she's still serious, but even with just a basic understanding of the fire within her Mei falls back to her normal nature; a silly excitable girl not taking things seriously. We see this after Red Son attacks her with the spears and when she's eating later on, but even if her attitude doesn't show it, she's still listening and taking the training seriously. She just needs to be silly so she won't freak out again.

Since we're on the topic of the Samahdi fire, I think most people can agree that the way it was handled post s3 was very poor. With only one mention of it in s4, by Master Subohdi no less, I assumed that the fire had been resealed, this time correctly. Something that dangerous should be locked up, even if a capable wielder is around. It would also prevent power creep and stop the show from having another Wukong predicament, by which I mean a character so powerful they need to find a way to prevent them from trivialising whatever threat they have to face in the plot. Wukong will get his own post soon don't you worry...

Instead, we learn in s5 that Mei still has the fire, she just kinda forgot? She learned to fully master it when breaking out of LBDs mech, so since the fire was no longer a raging uncontrollable inferno she just didn't realise it was still there... for an entire season. Yeah it feels lazy and honestly is probably the worse written choice the show has even made. Even still, it dose lead to a very interesting and in character moment for Mei.

When attempting to seal the willow wisp with Red Son, Mei loses her confidence, believing that she lost the Samahdi fire and thinking she's lacking. Mk getting Monkie Kings powers was one thing, but the rest of her friends now having cool weapons and magic? If their all so strong and only getting stronger, then what's the point in Mei? She was the strongest but now she might be the weakest, and that terrifies her cause if she's weak she can't protect people. How can she act when she's powerless to do so?

This dilemma is quickly resolved by Red Son telling her she's had the fire the whole time, amending it's use to Mei's lightning motif she's had since s1 -- I know fire benders in ATLA use lighting but come on -- and basically saying she's been using the fire the whole time. It takes away from Mei's whole struggle to be honest, but I do think there's potential for her to relearn this now tamed Samahdi fire so she can better use it. Just depends if the show wants to do that...

Moving on from my thinly veiled complaints about season 5 (I like it I swear but it is the weakest seasons to me so far), let's talk about Mei's role in the group a bit. Aside from being the token girl, she's also Mk's best friend and the only other character his age and acts around the same age as the shows target audience. Mk's the main character and leader, Tang is the lazy historian smart guy, Sandy the loveable giant, Pigsy the cynical brute and Mei's youthful and silly power house.

I would love to go into some narrative tropes, specifically the 5 man band since jttw is one of the primary bases of the trope, but I've realised I have far too many thoughts about that to fit here. This is the 21sh paragraph and I'm sure at least some of this is a mess, but I hope I'm getting my point across! Overall, Mei is an extremely compelling character how often gets side-lined due to run time and other stuff, but is honestly one of my favourite characters in the show.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk mk #lmk mei #lmk fandom #lmk s5 #lego monkie kid mei #lmk xiaojiao #lmk analysis #lmk ao lie #lmk rant #lmk character analysis #thank you for coming to my ted talk #the brainrot is real #expect more rant's like this #i'm cooking #menace LMK posts

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cinnamonest · 10 months ago

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Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

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heich0e · 2 years ago

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“i’m in love with you, you know.”

you don’t know that, actually. and neither does your heart, judging by the way it races to life under the arching cover of your ribs—hopeful and delighted and petrified all at once, you can feel the frenetic th-thump-th-thump-th-thump beating in your suddenly too-tight throat.

even in spite of the riot raging through your veins, you stay deceptively still as you lie next to suna, bundled under your blankets that have started to smell like him because of how often he’s been staying over lately. wrapped in his hoodie because you stole it off the floor when you shuffled into the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. with his teethmarks pressed into your still-tender skin from all the things he’d done to you before the two of you had curled up to go to sleep.

and now too much time has passed since suna spoke those ill-begotten words, but you haven’t offered anything up in response.

you could pretend to be asleep, you consider fleetingly, but you’re sure he knows the truth. you’re certain that he can tell your eyes are wide, in wakefulness as much as in shock, just like you can tell he’s staring at you even though you have your back to him. you feel the weight of his gaze as surely as every shaking inhale strains your aching lungs.

suddenly, you feel his fingers dance along the nape of your neck. they slip under the rucked up fabric of his sweatshirt's hood as his fingertips brush your skin in a ploy for your attention. goosebumps prickle in his wake. you wonder if he notices.

“stop,” you complain, lifting your shoulders up to your ears on instinct to shield your neck from his touch. it’s as much a reply to his graze at it is to his startling admission.

“i can’t,” rintarou replies, inching forward to press himself closer to your back. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you hear him swallow thickly. his next words are barely above a whisper. “hey, can you like.... say something? you're kinda killing me here.”

it’s unfair that he would wager that accusation against you when you feel the exact same way.

but you don’t know what to say, what to trust, what to believe. you don’t know anything beyond your thundering pulse and the feeling of rintarou’s warm breath fanning against your ear, scorching even in its tepidity.

your face feels flushed and your head is spinning; that violently beating heart of yours has sent too much blood rushing far too quickly to your head. you hardly feel capable of stringing two words together coherently, let alone formulating a response that a confession like his might deserve were it truthful.

“don’t say things you don’t mean to me, rin,” your voice is meek when you finally manage to articulate your thoughts, and your tone is wary. “please.”

rintarou wraps his arms around you, pulls you into him until the only thing between you is the material of your (his) hoodie and the rapidly crumbling barrier of your resolve.

“but i mean it.”

his lips are right by your ear, his words spoken so closely that you know for all the people in the world they’re only meant for you. your heartbeat is so reverberant you feel it thrumming down your spine.

wait.

you press yourself back into suna’s hold. impossibly close.

th-thump…th-thump…th-thump.

and then you realize what you’re feeling isn’t your heartbeat.

it’s his.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #not back - not NOT back - but a secret THIRD thing (clearing out my drafts)

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laurefindele-thegolden · 6 months ago

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I've seen so many posts the past few days where people are asking if it's worth continuing The Rings of Power or even starting it.

And as someone who hated this show with a burning passion to start with (but then had a complete 180) let me give you a few pointerss

1. STOP COMPARING IT TO PETER JACKSONS WORK!

This is like the key point. They're two separate works of art, by different people. One is focused on specific books as source material, the other is using an overall story as its source material with a few passages or pages from other books. So they have to maybe twist things a bit, add stories to stretch it out. I mean HELL PJ himself did that, removed many things from LOTR changed things up. Like Arwen did fuck all in the books really, but PJ decided to change that and give her things to do. And I don't think I have to delve into the mess that was the Hobbit. What I'm saying is, they're two different works of art, made by different people, set during different ages in ME, and it's different source material.

2. "oh but the inaccuracies!"

This kinda also goes with the above, even Peter Jackson's works have inaccuracies and they had the rights to the whole text. And if it will help you to separate the two maybe view the Rings of Power as a fanfic? Or just a completely different thing, a work of fiction in its own right, ignoring the previous lore.

3. The Hair??!!

Okay sure that was one of the things for me, what do you mean that's Finrod? (To be fair that one sill hurts). However, for the majority of elves Tolkien never specified that all elves have long hair. And second of all, I am not sure if this is true cause I've only seen it mentioned on twitter but allegedly there were wig shortages after the pandemic so the production team got wigs for key characters and asked other actors to grow out their hair. And now they just kinda have to roll with it

4. It's Boring

Okay the first two episodes were also a bit of a slow burn for me but just get through it because it gets better. Also the costumes and cinematography is fantastic in the show. So really it is worth watching especially that S2 is looking to be intense and amazing.

5. Oh but why is this character acting like this?

This goes to part 1, don't compare to Peter Jackson movie characters. I mean even they had their flaws! But this is the second age, these characters are at different points in their lives, dealing with other things that you know in the long run teach them things and in turn could lead to make them become the way they are in the third age. And also if your only knowledge about these characters comes from LOTR maybe it's worth trying to delve into the Silmarillion and other texts about the First Age because it explains a lot

To add to this at the end, don't discredit TROP because it is a great show.

#the rings of power #trop #lord of the rings #lotr #the hobbit

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mirrology · 7 months ago

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— Eudialyte .ᐟ ʚɞ

✿ "Eudialyte has developed the nickname of “The Stone of the heartland” due to its connection to the energies of unconditional love"

Ft. Aventurine, written with male reader in mind but no mention of he/him, so can be read as gender neutral. wc: 1039

Content: teen! reader, reader works with the IPC, platonic relationship w/ aven, inspired by hnk; when phos lost his legs / after losing your legs in an accident and having to replace them with doll-like ones, you feel useless. Fortunately, Aventurine is here to remind you that your thoughts don't describe you. slight angst.

A/n: i was having big brother Aventurine brain rot, dont ask me how the legs work, even i dont know. Aventurine may be ooc

The atmosphere was peaceful in the vast garden that you were situated in, sitting on a stool that Aventurine helped you on. He said that you needed to get some fresh air, since after the attachment of the legs you couldn't move them just yet. That... made you feel like a burden, he had been helping you get everywhere these past few days.

Aventurine said he didn't mind, yet your thoughts were swirling in your head, you couldn't bring yourself to not feel like this. Your vision blurred with tears as you blankly stared down at your new legs, the material ran up to your mid-thigh then stopping and pressing against what was left of your flesh and bone.

Your knee joint was ultimately replaced with a ball joint that resembles one of a ball jointed puppet. Maybe it was the IPC's way of saying "you're just a puppet and we control the strings" — how despicable.

You furrow your brows in distaste and put a hand against the section that meets synthetic with flesh. "These things look kinda weird, huh?" you muttered, tilting your head to get a better perspective of the material that was now a part of you.

You sat there for a bit, but got fed up with being so still. You wanted to walk and run and jump! In a spontaneous motion you grabbed your knee and shook it desperately, "just move already!" you grunted tilting back a bit.

The stool tilted back as well, and with a thump you landed on your back on top of the green grass. a wince left your mouth as you tried to regain your breath.

breathe in...

and out.

You sighed in defeat while turning on your side, watching the blades of grass sway with the wind in a mesmerizing dance. “I’m completely useless…” you muttered in sorrow, tears welling up at the corner of your eyes. Footsteps broke you out of your trance and a familiar shadow covered your figure that was laying down, you looked up at the comforting face of the man that you considered a brother.

“I left for only 5 minutes” he chuckled and picked up the stool that had fallen down “how exactly did you end up on the ground?” Aventurine smiled cheekily as he crouched down to pick you up in a princess carry. He looked down at you in his arms and he noticed your teary eyes, his expression turned into a concerned one quite quickly.

Aventurine gently sat you down on the stool once more and crouched down on one knee in front of you as he stared into your eyes. “What’s wrong, kiddo?” he softly spoke as he reached up towards your face and flicked away a tear with his thumb, one that was threatening to spill over.

You stared at him with a conflicted expression, you didn’t know how to tell him. As much as you wanted to let out the horrible thoughts in your head you felt as if you would be bothering him with your problems. More tears filled your eyes along with some flowing down your cheeks, you pressed the palms of your hands to your eyes in an attempt to stop your sobbing.

“Oh, (name)...” Aventurine whispered, he stroked your head while softly moving your arm away from your face. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” He asked as he held your hand, encouraging you to spill your thoughts to him. You sniffled, lightly rubbing underneath your nose, “i..” you paused. Your eyes trailed down to your legs that now donned those puppet like joints, your lips slightly quivered as you opened your mouth, hesitantly speaking. “Am I- do I bother you?”

Your hopeful eyes met his understanding ones, Aventurine’s eyes softened as he processed your words. “Of course not” he smiled reassuringly “you could never be of bother to me” his hold on your hand tightened a little. Once more you looked at your lap, your hair covering a significant part of your face, “i can't move my legs, i cant move around by myself…” you trailed off and pausing for a second then raising your head to meet his eyes yet again. “I feel like a burden to you and also useless at the same time, it’s… so frustrating.” you grimaced, slightly cringing at the words that tumbled out of your mouth. You never thought that you would spill everything like that.

Aventurine was shell shocked, although he had his suspicions of you feeling under the weather because of your loss of your legs, he wouldn't have predicted that it would impact you this much. Everytime he would come into your room to give you your dinner or to check on you there would be something off, such as your puffy eyes, tear stains on your pillow etc.

Of course, how couldn't he have noticed it sooner? Aventurine reached up and cupped your cheeks in his hands, you could feel the warmth of his hands radiating from his palms. “You're not a burden, (name)” He answered, “I would take care of you for as long as it takes,” he said, his eyes determined. “Because I care for you, you have brought happiness to my world when I needed it most.”

“So, don’t cry anymore, kiddo”

Your breath hitched, teary eyes wide and filled with much needed relief. Suddenly you tackled him in a hug, your hands wrapped around him tightly as if he would suddenly disappear and you burried your head in the crook of his neck. Aventurine quickly caught you in his embrace, he chuckled and leaned his head on yours as he rubbed you back in comfort.

In an instant your stomach grumbled, indicating that it was hungry. Your face heated up at the moment being ruined by your hunger. “wow, someones hungry” Aventurine teased as he leaned away from the hug, he snickered at your flushed face. “Hey! Don't make fun of me!” you exclaimed while lightly punching his arm, “haha, okay okay.” He smiled as he picked you up, “why dont we get you something to eat?”

“Can we have (f/f)?”

“Hmm.. i don’t know..”

“Aven!

“Alright, i'll stop. of course We can your majesty”

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talltalesandbedtimestories · 6 months ago

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The Iceman Cometh - Dean x Reader

“The Iceman Cometh” - Dean x Reader

Rating Mature

Dean x Reader

Tags: Sweaty Dean, Turning Up The Heat, Ice Play, Mild Smut, Nipple Play, I Will Again Be Accused of Blue-Balling

Word Count: 1700

You normally love a sticky, slippery, and sweaty Dean. But, this. This is pushing it.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Ice-play" square.

A/N: I just wanted to mix things up and write something short and fun.

Image created in Canva (photo used/found online: Facebook - Una Vida SPN)

You normally love a sticky, slippery, and sweaty Dean. But, this. This is pushing it.

“I’m sorry, what?” Dean fists his hands leaning on the motel office counter.

“AC’s out in the only room I got left!” The old lady with coke bottle glasses and Wilma Flinstone pearls repeats herself. Her cigarette-laced voice is scratchy and a couple squeaks higher this time.

You groan. Dean side-eyes you but doesn’t turn his head to acknowledge the irritation.

“It’s 100 degrees out. We get some kinda discount for pain and suffering?” he asks.

“I’ll knock ten bucks off the bill.”

“Ten bucks?” You huff out an incredulous chuckle.

“We’ll take it.”

Before you can yell at him, Dean’s already slapped a credit card on the counter.

~~~~~

Of course, this had to be the first motel with a vacancy during the two-hour trek through the Nevada desert region.

The hotbox of a room smells of mildew, cigarettes, and vinegar. You plod through the humidity and stale stench. Every bit of odor clings to your perspiring skin so there’s no escaping it. Dean curses as he taps buttons and thumbs dials on the window air conditioner, just to verify it's inoperable. You drop your bag on the bed and beeline to the bathroom.

Dean needs a shower more than you. He was the one who wrestled and skewered a ghoul in a sacred burial ground. But you’re gonna be salty about his decision to stop. You’d wanted to keep going, offering to share driving duties. Who cares if neither one of you had slept in over 24 hours?

Your pants are around your ankles in a second. The loose porcelain bowl seesaws under your weight. Regardless, you sigh in relief, weeing out all the water you’ve been guzzling to stay hydrated.

The rap of Dean’s knuckles on the bathroom door interrupts your steady stream of piss. “I’m gonna grab somethin’ at the diner we passed.” Dean’s second preferred method of appeasing you is feeding you. “Be back as soon as I can. Save me some COLD water, baby.”

A hard tug of the motel door seconds later rattles the paint-by-numbers sagebrush framed on the wall behind the toilet.

Dean left without taking your food order. You grind your teeth.

~~~~~

Forty minutes pass before the familiar engine rumbles into the lot and headlights flash through the sheer curtains.

The diner was a good fifteen minutes away, one-way, if Dean had been going the speed limit. The Impala’s warp speed must have been activated for him to have actually ordered and brought back dinner. Your stomach somersaults with distress and hunger pangs.

Dean opens the door only to hover within the threshold, a human doorstop.

You’re in a tank top and boy shorts. The best thing you could use to fan yourself is a file folder Sam stuffed with case material before you and Dean left Kansas.

Dean stretches and drops the bag of takeout on the nearby kitchenette table. He eyes you with a frown. “I’m sorry it’s shit in here. I’d say we could sleep in Baby, but it’s worse outside. Seriously.”

You’re laid atop the bed stripped of its scratchy and threadbare comforter, which is now a heap on the floor. “You know, all the times you’ve had to put that car back together again piece by piece; maybe one of those times you could have installed some air conditioning.”

He raises a finger to signal you should wait for something impressive. He dips half his body back outside, foot holding the door open. There’s bumping and huffing. Then the green cooler appears, held triumphantly in his hands. “I brought ice! Waitress at the diner sold me pounds of the stuff.” He’s sensibly in only a t-shirt, having left his duffle and jacket in the room when he’d left earlier.

“The iceman cometh.” The eyeroll is excessive, but you can’t seem to not.

“Eat, grumpy. My turn for a shower.”

~~~~~

He crunches ice chips. You suck on one cube, swirling it from one cheek pocket to the other until it melts, and then repeat with another. Forearm to forearm, you both sprawl out on the queen-sized mattress. You snapped at him earlier about the heat the boob tube would create. He stews alongside your percolating tension. You’ve allowed the bathroom light to stay on. A yellow fluorescent haze slices from the open door and spills over Dean.

There’s no escape from the heat.

“Pulse points,” he mutters.

“Right,” you snip. Your hand scoops ice out of your red solo cup. You circle a cube along your inner wrist.

There’s a shake from his side of the bed. You glance over. He’s shirtless, clad only in his boxers, rubbing ice up and down the back of his neck. Which only pisses you off more.

This hunt was supposed to end days ago. You were supposed to be celebrating your anniversary at the bunker today. You had some fun times planned. A surprise dinner of all Dean’s favorites and a movie marathon in the Dean Cave.

“I’m sorry,” you and Dean mumble simultaneously.

“We’ll get back on the road soon, sweetheart. I was spent and seeing double. Even if I can’t sleep, it’ll help just not being in motion.”

“I’ve been a major bitch.” You laugh at Dean’s deer-in-headlights reaction to your admission. “You don’t have to agree or disagree on that count, babe. You know how I get when shit doesn’t go according to plan. And, this fucking heat is not helping.”

“We both pop our tops an equal amount. That’s what makes us perfect for each other.” The backs of two of his fingers skim your elbow.

“Except when we both blow up at the same time.”

“Nah, that’s even better. Then we get to have angry make-up sex.”

You whoop out a laugh. “That’s never happened.”

“It could now?”

You grin. “But I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at everything else.”

He shrugs. “Take it out on me, then.” He reconsiders. “Or, let me cool you down?”

It’s your turn to raise a brow.

Dean grins. He tips his head way back with the cup to his lips. He shakes his hand and the ice crackles. Cup back in his lap, you spot one cheek puffed out like a chipmunk. His face crinkles up.

“You’re gonna give yourself brain freeze, idiot.”

“Worth it,” he mumbles.

His lips lean in to press a kiss. You giggle at Dean’s clumsy attempt with a mouthful of ice. A surprised squeal follows when he slips an ice cube between pursed lips to run across yours. He pulls back and smiles, crooked and unhinged. He plops the cubes into his cup sounding like a penny slot machine and sits it on his side table.

He pulls you in close for a kiss, expertly grabbing your cup from your hands. You can’t be bothered to care where he hides it.

His tongue is so cool. A popsicle with a mind of its own that you want to suck on for days. He’s very agreeable to the way your lips wrap around it. He moans. You love the particular sound of that one. It strains out of his throat. Thankful. Relaxed.

He’s fiddling with more ice, having wedged your cup between two pillows. “You’re always so hot,” he quips after you relinquish his tongue.

You skim one leg between his thighs. The skin contact is tacky and sticky. “You’re always so cheesy.”

“Not always,” Dean says with a smirk. “In this instance, I’m just stating a fact.”

You hiccup a gasp at the ice cube he presses to your wrist without warning.

Dean glides it slow, a serpentine slither, to the crook of your elbow. He swirls the spot and lets it melt and drip from your body to the sheets. His green eyes concentrate on the task.

You can’t help but lose yourself watching him. His body shimmers in a sheen of sweat. Every minute shift highlights the beautiful angles of his face. Perspiration beads up under the hairline of his forehead. You can’t resist kissing and sipping at his upper lip. He grins and returns the gesture.

He uses another piece of ice to continue upward to your shoulder. He traces the shoulder strap of your tank. A hop over it and he’s sliding down the outline of your collar. It’s a quick ride into your cleavage where he lets the remnants melt and add to the already damp material.

His tongue laps at the wetness that’s collected there. You sigh and lean back. He hums and kisses the curve of your breast, slides the strap down, and then nuzzles into the notch of your armpit.

After a few seconds, he rises up in order to gaze into your eyes with the most innocent of expressions; even though he’s freed one of your tits from the confines of your clothing.

More ice rattles by your ear like maracas.

You’re in trouble.

You purse your lips at the biting cold against your neck. It’s electrifying and refreshing. He outlines your collarbone back and forth for emphasis. A shift and he’s leaning beside you, up on one elbow to drink in the sight. One leg drapes over yours, locking you into place. You feel the growing bulge in his boxers. There’s no escaping what he has in store.

He juggles two cubes between his fingers and journeys along the crest of your breast. He’s grinning with mischief and lust now. Then his mouth parts when the ice meets your nipple. Your flesh hardens and tightens on contact. You groan. Your core clenches.

He gnaws on his bottom lip as he circles the dark pebbling bud. Air squeaks out of your mouth. You squirm. It’s a beautiful freeze burn of contrast.

Once the ice melts, his fingers, also chilled, take over kneading and pinching. His patience gone, he bends down and latches onto your cool tit. He nurses with that sinful mouth and grazes your nipple with tongue and teeth until your skin tingles back to life.

You are so out of your head with the noises he’s making and the show he’s putting on, that you're ill-prepared for his cold fingers slipping under the hem of your shorts.

You shriek giggle, “Dean!”

He ends his sucking with a loud pop. He whispers against your lips, “Happy Anniversary, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Update: Got inspired and filled another bingo square with these two. You can read "Just A Little Spice" here.

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