#why must i have poor heat resistance

[lokiitama]

Broken Heart - Chapter 3

July and August were full of things that slowed my writing down- including heatwaves! But the heat didn’t win and I managed to finish chapter 3! ✨

Excerpt:

[...]

While Sniff and Little My lamented about wasting the day away, Snorkmaiden immediately sighed in relief. A tension Moomin hadn’t noticed left her shoulders instantaneously and her nervous ticks died down before he could point them out to spare her fingertips. 

Snufkin accepted the news with no disappointment or relief to be seen. He simply answered with one of his infamous laid back nods. It wasn’t a lack of care, Moomin knew as much. His best friend just took things as they were and worked with what other information they had. This time was no exception, as he was the first to ponder who else the heart might have belonged to.

Read the rest of Chapter 3 on Ao3

[777gojosgf]

GUILTY AS SIN?

777GOJOSGF IS TYPING…

777gojosgf: fem!reader x satoru gojo

IN WHERE :: you can’t stop thinking about him and his stupid face.

what if he’s written mine on my upper thigh…

“FUCK,” YOU EXHALED, cursing yourself for even thinking about him in this way. that your mind gradually wandered and imagined many situations of him in your brain, wanting to see how he would feel. a sloppy top lip kiss or simply a hug from him. it didn't matter how explicit it was; it was poor overall.

there was no specific reason why you were envisioning scenarios regarding the two of you. you couldn't stand him. his arrogance, refusal to be defeated, and capacity to do anything he wanted without regard for the consequences. when you were on a mission together, he spent more time taunting you than focusing on the evil spirits you were intended to defeat.

but—there was something about him. something so appealing and seductive that he had your attention and you had become accustomed to his taunts. that everytime you two were assigned to the same mission, your stomach would do a tiny flip for no apparent reason. that whenever he removed his blindfold, he could catch your breath, or when his white hair formed a mess on top of his head that was difficult to resist running your hand over.

there was no denying that you wanted him.

and you cursed him for it everyday since.

you were watching him teach the first years by showing off and breaking a specific grade curse, which got him a sneer from you. itadori looked at him with ambition and glee, which satoru simply took pride in. it was his habit to brag whenever his students were present or on a mission he had dragged them on. but when were you around? he would go to great lengths for fun. because he knew you couldn't stand it.

because he wanted to know how much effect he had on you.

however, you had no idea when your mind began to wander about him and what it would be like if it was just the two of you. what you would do if you didn’t have the ability to restrict yourself. to determine who would break first. perhaps it is you, after all, who will fall for his schemes. perhaps it was his lips that held your attention. you even started to wonder if it would be that bad if you were to crack and fall for him— what the fuck.

how could you ever consider that? perhaps there was a parasite in your head that was whispering these possibilities to you. yup! that must be it, right?

“what are you thinking about, princess?” he called out from behind and you immediately turned around, almost getting whiplash in the moment. blood ran to your face and it suddenly felt way too hot in this place, did someone turn off the air conditioning? god. get it together, you told yourself.

“don’t call me that— you showoff.” you muttered and rolled your eyes, quickly averting your gaze away from him and onto the first years who now were having an argument— more like nobara having to keep megumi and yuuji apart and stop them from ripping each other’s head off— and sighed.

you were forced to look at him when his cool fingers reached for your chin and turned your face towards his, the chilly sensation suddenly becoming rather pleasant on your heated face. there was an arrogant smirk on his face, which made you scowl and bite your lip for saying something you didn't mean. "in ten years, i haven't made you blush before, it’s quite cute, you know?"

"i’m not blushing, you idiot; it's just fucking hot in here. you always believe you're such a flirt, don't you? well, you are not." you weakly defended yourself and wished you hadn't said anything at all; now you simply appear stupid and foolish. despite your stomach flipping a thousand times a minute, you couldn't seem to look at him.

your weak defense made him laugh and amusement was drawn onto his face. “are you done rambling now?” he asked while dragging his blindfold with one finger down, blue eyes boring into yours which made you immediately go quiet and it didn’t help with the fact that you already were blushing like a maniac. “good. now tell me what you were thinking about.”

fine. two people can play this game if that’s what he wanted so badly.

“you.”

in reaction to your comment, his brow furrowed in uncertainty. what about him? when did you start thinking about him, and why now? after years of being together, innumerable missions, and losing the same people. how come you're thinking about him now?

“me?”

"you— yeah. i was thinking about you and, you know, me." you responded with confidence and a cheeky smirk on your face. you had no idea where this newfound confidence came from, but you felt a sense of satisfaction as you watched him astonished by your response. he had not expected you to think about him, let alone be with you in your mind. did this imply that he had never considered it himself?

he quickly gathered himself and glanced at you for a minute, leaning into you. "and what were we supposedly doing up there?" he poked your forehead with his index finger, making you chuckle before leaning into him, a taunting glint in your eyes. "a little along the lines of this—" you interrupted yourself with a short kiss on his jaw. he wouldn't have believed it unless you cupped his face and drew him in closer.

“oh yeah?”

"mhmm—" you replied before stepping on your tiptoes and kissing his lips softly. the light brush of your lips against his made you feel tingly all over, and just as you were ready to lean back and break it, satoru came forward and caught your lips once more in a hungry kiss. a kiss that virtually screamed that he desired this as much as you did.

you finally broke the kiss, and your body missed his gentle touch. it was tempting to lean in once more and kiss him till your last breath, but wouldn't it be more enjoyable to tease him yourself? he was ready to say something when you placed your finger on top of his lips, prompting him to raise his eyebrows. "catch me after you're done showing off, satoru."

and with that, you walked off and went ahead to deal with your own errands as you had only killed time watching him before it was time for you to do the exact same thing. you hadn’t dared to turn around and watch his clueless expression, no. instead you were bracing for what would happen later today and excitement lightened up your face.

"you're in so much trouble, princess." you just laughed after hearing him shout out faintly as you had no idea that it wasn't just an empty promise.

[cookiepie111]

˳ ׁ 𝅄 ✧Where rivers flow✧ 𝅄 ׁ ˳

A/N : @shotmrmiller has a bath maiden au with ghost I was thinking about könig next thing you know boom! König x black reader. Please like and reblog. Suggestive. Not proofread

• Gladiator könig

• He's never been happier to have a private bath. Having to share with others in the public bath was awful, constantly looking over his shoulder huddled in the corner. In and out. Cleaning is a simple task. When the luxury of a private bath came he snatched it up

• You treat him like something special at least when you're bathing him. The way you wash his hair is nothing short of sinful. Smoothing lathered soap through his hair. Working your hands through his hair to his skull. Slowly. Drawing small circles ito his head when you reach the top. keeping mind to press down just enough to get his toes curling and send shivers through his spine and a rumble out his chest. He's been showing less and less resistance what started as small shivers and rumbles has turned into groaning and rolling hips.

• " Your hair has grown."

" Do you like it?"

"It will be difficult to fight, no?. Do you want me to cut it?"

" mhhh, just tie it up"

• He's always been a messy fighter, never shying away from tearing up his enemies, but now he's looking for a way to get blood, get as messy as he can so he can call you!

• It's cute the way you prepare his baths, like he's some fancy lady he heard you feel out of favour with your mistress.. or she fell from grace.

• full of sweet smelling perfumes, honeyed soap, flower Petels, it's really all wasted on a beast like him. He can't appreciate the flowers nor slowly savour the taste of sweet honey. No, he lays waste to such fields, grabs honey right of out hive like a bear.

• He gets to lay by the bath's edge, arms proped up at the edge. Taking up his heavy arm in your hands, gently rubbing at his body.

• You spend time on every part of his body, working warmth throughout his body with a sponge delicately and lovey.

• It's so embarrassing no one has ever touched him with such softness like he's something delicate. It sturs something up in him. He's so easily ruiled up why you are teasing him so much. He turns to syurp under your touch, thick and sweet

• In his own private bath, he can take up as much space as he likes, thighs spread wide in waiting on the baths edge. Again, gentle circular motions work along leg rising heat in him, but you always stop atop of his thigh

• It must be unnerving the way his stares wholly on you. He wants you to look at him for your eyes to meet and look away bashful like the sweet maiden he knows ( thinks). You are.

• He tries to pull you, laughs when he succeeds, seeing your white linen dress cling to your body. He loves your curls, defying the water coming back dry, untouched by the water.

• The little scowl on your face is the most emotion he's getting out of you. You're always so straight faced and professional when doing your job. A neutral face no matter what happens

• Be grateful he's just pulling you in. When you start to avoid his arms and he feels he's not getting enough attention he'll wait till your back is turned away from the edge of bath paying no mind to crashing water as könig rises out. A stone wall. He'll chase you round the bath. Could you imagine anything scarier. a bull running full speed at you talk nothing of the weapon between his legs. Surprisingly, he doesn't fall he's too quick and aglie on his feet for someone of his size, coming round sharp corners with ease. you, on the other hand, slip, falling right into his arms. Squirming in his tight hold. "Liebling stay still, you're getting me all excited," you freeze, realising his words, hips grinding into yours, matching your pace .

Bath time!

You're not entirely sure who's room he's raided maybe yours or the bath room.... probably accosted some poor noble woman to help him.

His hands move to mimick yours, heavy hand spilling fine smelling liquids and soaps into the bath filling the air with a sick unpleasant sent. The flowers are..dull some how like they're drowning in the water instead of floating atop.

He's /in/ the water with you, pressed up against your back, It's too close to intimate for the baths. he shouldn't be, that's not how things are done.

You frown at the sight of the comb. Too decorative for the baths, the type of comb used for events and ceremonies. His movements are stiff and awkward, like he's never held something in his hand like he isn't one of the strongest fighters here.

You feel the comb at the crown of your skull, slowly work its way down, shaking. "Ow!" These combs weren't made for your hair. They won't work. He stops, and your shoulders drop in relief till he tries again slower this time. His other hand reaches for your hair under the comb, teasing the hair down. " Stop, it won't work"

" It's fine I know what I'm doing"

" No stop"

grumbling rising out from the water. This man just won't listen.

"Come on, I'll make a proper bath for us" calling him over to the display of combs and bath liquids, placing the thick wide tooth comb in his hands. It's amazing his ability to make anything in his hands small.

" You'll have better results using this, okay?" You're not entirely sure he's listening. No, he's too taken aback by the full beauty of your body, brown skin wet and soft from the water, your hair properly soacked now sticks to your shoulders and curls around your face.

"Here"

Your back in the bath now not so nervous anymore now, you can lean into him just a little bit.

It's better now, he takes his time combing through your hair with his fingers, separating the large curls, coiling them around his finger letting them spring back when they fall. It's too much there isn't meant to be this level of intensity at a bath

You're hoping it's the bath that's just too warm, hoping he can't feel the heat that blooms at your cheeks

[thus-spoke-lo]

cw: afab!reader, thigh riding, teasing

“Zoro? Are you busy?”

“'M trying to rest,” he says without opening his eye. He sits on the bench of the crow’s nest, clad only in a towel, heated and exhausted after a morning of training, his perspiration-slicked body glistening in the light of the afternoon sun. “I’m tired.”

“How tired?”

“Tired.” He knows that tone in your voice, can picture the pout on your lips as you’re speaking—without even so much as a glance at you, he knows exactly why you’re here.

“But how tired?”

He cracks his eye open to get a look at you and confirm his suspicions. You stand before him, body now slotted in between his spread legs; you're chewing on your lower lip, your legs pressed tightly together, as you shift from one foot to the other.

Zoro can only sigh and shake his head, a chuckle rumbling deep within his chest-–he thinks you’re utterly irresistible all the time, but he has a special weakness for when you come to him like this, like you’re craving something, need him to satisfy a wanton hunger like only he can. It awakens a raging fire deep within him to see you aching and yearning and almost too ashamed to ask for what you want, the words balancing on the tip of your tongue.

“Aww, what’s the matter? Feeling lonely?” He grasps at your waist and pulls you forward, just hard enough so you stumble a little into him.

You turn your head, avoiding the heat of his gaze. “Maybe.”

“Poor thing. Bet you need something from me, don’t you?” He knows just how to torment you, needling at you until you’re forced to say the words out loud, forced to let your desire spill from your lips.

You give a shy nod as you fidget in place.

A wicked smile creeps across his lips. “Hmm, I can’t be sure what you want if you don’t tell me.”

“I want you, Zoro,” you murmur, as a fire burns hot in your face. “Want you inside me.”

He runs his calloused thumb across your cheek. “Well then let me rest a little while and I’ll give you whatever you need, I promise.”

“Zoro,” you whine, extending out the last “o” into a soft moan. “I want you now though. Please?”

“My baby even says ‘please’? You must be feeling needy. “

You pout at him. “Zoro, don’t tease me, I just need you so much, you know that.”

There it is—there’s that urgent longing in your voice that makes you so hard to resist. He hikes his towel up and pats his muscled thigh. “If you’re so desperate, sweetheart, you can use this.”

“Aw, come on,” you say, leaning over and placing your hands on his firm chest, kissing along his neck, down his broad shoulders. “Won’t you fuck me? Just for a little while?”

He lets out a low groan, feels his cock starting to harden under the thin, white cloth as you nip at his neck, your teeth dragging against his skin. Zoro would give you everything you ever wanted if he could—he’d gift you all the gold in the world, steal you every ship in the world government’s fleet, let only the finest sake pass through your luscious lips, and most certainly he would give you every inch of his cock whenever you demand it, bury himself in you to the hilt and provide you every bit of satisfaction you needed any hour of the day. But he couldn’t bend to your every whim all the time, or at least that’s what he tried to tell himself when you’d come to him, breathy and insatiable and practically salivating—he’d surely spoil you if he let you get away with it, no matter how much he wanted it, too.

“N-no,” he manages to finally sputter, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I gave you an option. Take it or leave it.”

“Then I guess I’ll take what I’m given.” You slide your shorts off easily, and slowly, teasingly remove your panties, being sure to bend over as you slid them down to your ankles.

“Tch,” Zoro scoffs as he take in the sight of your ass on full display, licking his lips at the brief glimpse of your slit, already glistening with slick. “Like you have a choice.”

You turn around, placing one knee on the bench, your other foot on the floor to steady yourself as you lower yourself onto his dense thigh. He smirks and leans back, closing his eye again and placing his arms behind his head, feeling smug at denying you the privilege of having his cock inside of you, and instead making you debase yourself on his thigh.

You start to grind on his leg, greedily pushing your hips down onto him, dragging your quivering cunt over him again and again, your juices leaking onto him, soaking his skin with every movement. He reflexively tenses his thigh, and you keen at the feeling of taut, cabled muscles pressing against your sensitive core, jolts of pleasure ricocheting through you as you gyrate your hips in slow, insistent circles. You place your hand on his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh, trying to keep yourself upright and you buck your hips against his powerful leg, feeling every twitch of his muscles against your tender clit.

The sound of your moans, your shallow gasps as you take your pleasure from him, is all beginning to be too much for Zoro to ignore; his cock pulses and twitches under the towel, growing ever harder with every sweet sigh of yours. He opens his eye and takes in the sight of you, how you rhythmically roll your hips over him, sweat starting to bead at your temples as you work desperately to find release. How can he possibly rest when your luscious body is right there in front of him—your chest heaving, your eyes shut, lips parted, head tilted back as you whimper and whine so beautifully for him? How can he ignore you when you’re dragging your slick-coated, puffy cunt lips over his tensed leg, your wetness glistening on his tanned skin?

He lowers a hand down and pulls the towel to the side, starts palming the length of his aching cock, running his thumb in circles over the throbbing tip, his hand no substitute for the soft warmth of your petal-soft folds. He groans as he starts to thrust up into his hand to the tempo of your movements, tormenting himself with the sight of you wantonly chasing your high, before finally gasping, “Okay, that’s enough.”

You let out a surprised yelp as he grabs you by the hips, his fingertips sinking into your soft flesh, and he pulls you into his lap, the swollen, leaking tip of his cock pressing urgently against your drenched entrance.

“You’re just not gonna let me get any rest, are you?” he asks as you sink down onto him, as though he would ever want it any other way.

[icanhearcolors]

Close Encounter pt. 3

Hello beautiful people! I have so many ideas for a camp / long rest scene but we gotta collect the companions first so please enjoy the obligatory Gale and Lae'zel chapter.

pt 1 | pt 2

Word count: 3.8k

You must be seeing things. You blink and rub at your eyes but when you open them again nothing about the morbid scene in front of you changes. There’s a mind flayer on the ground ten feet from you.

You turn to signal as much to Astarion, who must have fallen behind on the way up the hill, and jump out of your skin when you realize he’s standing an inch away- if that. 

“Good Gods you scared me!”

“You should be paying more attention. What if I were a blood thirsty vampire trying to sink my teeth into your pretty neck?” He teases. 

You point to the clear blue sky with raised eyebrows. The sun is mercilessly beating down on you both. The waves of heat are visible if you squint hard enough, and sweat slicks your clothes to your skin.

“I’d say under normal circumstances that would be unlikely.”

“True. And yet,” he grins, leaning down and snapping his teeth so close to your throat you feel his breath kiss your skin. Some self preservation instinct kicks in and sends you flying before you even process what’s happening. You jerk so hard you surely would have hit the ground if he didn’t catch you by the arm, cackling with self satisfied laughter. 

You rip your arm out of his grasp and glare.

“That wasn’t funny.”

“Aw come on, it was a little funny.”

“Can we focus please? There’s a mind flayer up ahead.”

The amused look is wiped off of Astarion’s face, replaced with surprise and then accusation.

“Why didn’t you say something?!”

“I’m saying something now aren’t I?” You hiss, returning your gaze to the twitching mass of purple amidst the wreckage up ahead that you believe to be a mind flayer.

“It looks injured. I’m gonna talk to it” You decide, more speaking your thoughts out loud than anything else.

“I'm sorry, did you say you were going to talk to it?! It doesn’t even have a mouth- get back here!” Astarion protests, but it falls on deaf ears.

You step toward the mind flayer, its tentacled face limp. This thing knows more than anyone how to get the worm out of your skull, and it is dying. Before you even decide to do it, your feet are carrying you forward. Astarion follows reluctantly behind.

The mind flayer is a disturbing looking creature. Purple in hue, covered in a film of viscous slime, oozing wine-colored blood. You turn to Astarion, a curious look in your eyes. You wonder if there are creatures even a vampire wouldn't drink from.

“I would rather starve.” He answers the question you hadn’t even asked yet, his nose wrinkling as he glares down at the monster.

That answers that. 

You turn your gaze back to the mind flayer, and notice its one visible orange eye is rolling in its socket. You resist the urge to put your knife through the twitching pink flesh of its brain. You need information more than you need revenge. You take a few steps closer, just a foot from it now, and when you glance back at its face you see that orange eye is now focused unblinkingly on you. You can’t look away. It looks pitiful, the poor thing, mangled by wreckage and its own crushed armour. When it comes to creatures who consume the life forces of others, miraculous things can happen when they feed. Perhaps you could find someone to sacrifice to this dying creature. No- it only has minutes to live, you need to sacrifice yourself. It’s for the greater good. This mind flayer has powers beyond your understanding, and you are but a lowly mortal. 

“Tav?” A voice somewhere very far away echos.

You ignore it. The fledgling that’s taken up residence in your brain would have turned you into a mind flayer within a few days anyway. Wouldn’t you rather save a life than create a new one? Your mind made up, you take another step towards its welcoming embrace.

An arm catches you around the waist. Someone pulls you backwards, away from the mind flayer. The tadpole in your brain wriggles violently in a way that causes splitting pain inside your skull. You wince and fall back into something, someone.

“It’s in your mind” They whisper, or shout, it reverberates in your pounding head regardless.

You wrestle with your battling emotions, the real contempt and the imposing compassion. The influence of the tadpole lessens now that you have been made aware of it, and you tamp it down to a dull throbbing at the base of your skull. You’re still connected to the mind flayer. You feel its disgust and hatred toward you. Similarly to what happened to you on the path with Astarion, your consciousness is ripped from your body and thrust into the mind of the dying monster. It is fantasizing about your subjugation. It wants to whip you and your companion until the skin is ripped from your backs while you bow before it. The rage you feel destroys whatever vestiges of influence the thing still had over you, and you use it to dive intentionally into the mind flayer’s intellect, searching for answers. You see through its eyes flashes of its story, its rebirth from man to monster, its care for the pool of tadpoles that now live in the brains of the ship survivors, and you feel its fear. 

It is terrified of death. 

You feel it’s consciousness slipping away quickly like sand through your fingers. Its brain is shutting down and misfiring. You have no idea how to pinpoint the information you’re looking for in the hurricane of foreign memories flashing before your eyes. Still, you are in control here. The mind flayer’s tadpole was meant to kill you, but as you stand over the dying illithid, holding what’s left of its life hostage in your hands, you realize that along with a time bomb in your skull it has gifted you a fraction of the power it wields. A sick sadistic pleasure fills you when you realize you could bend the mind flayer’s will to your own, just as it had done to you. The feeling terrifies you.

You let go of your grip on its thoughts and are flung back into your own body once more. The creature's eyes are unfocused and dim. With an angry shout you lift your foot and drive the heel of your boot into its squishy head.

It jerks, and then falls still- dead.

There is still an arm around your waist you realize, once you've come back to your senses.

You look down to find a pale hand, fingers splayed across your abdomen. You glance up at the owner of that hand, and find Astarion looking at the mess of a mind flayer carcass with a comically shocked expression. He glances at you, then back at the body.

“Perhaps I should do the talking from now on darling.” 

You roll your eyes and step out of his hold, striding toward the path again, but as you turn Astarion grabs the strap of the supplies pack flung across your shoulder and uses your momentum to turn you back around again. 

“Well hold on just a second! What was that?”

“What was what?” you bluff.

Astarion drops the strap of your bag to cross his arms over his chest.

“Oh so we’re going to pretend I didn’t just watch you offer your brain up for a snack, change your mind, practically pass out, then wake back up again moments later and squash the mind flayer’s head like a cockroach? Great. Carry on then.”

You shrug, nod, and turn on your heel.

“I was obviously being sarcastic!” He shouts, jogging to catch up with you.

“Are you mad at me for killing a mind flayer?” 

“Quite the opposite, I quite enjoyed the little show you put on. I just want to know why I had to restrain you from letting that thing snack on your skull. If you want someone to take a bite out of you darling I guarantee you’d have much more fun with me.” 

“I can’t imagine how being exsanguinated would be fun in any way,” you deflect. He takes the bait and smiles.

“No need to imagine it when I can show you,” his voice drips with a dark promise that heats your blood. Intrusive thoughts bombard you with images of him following through with that promise, and you dig through your pack for a bottle of water, taking several long sips. He tosses his head back and barks a laugh at your nervous reaction.

“This is fun. I’ve spent two hundred years hiding what I am, smiling with closed lips, hoping my charm or the dim lighting of a tavern was enough to distract whoever I was talking to from the fact that my eyes are crimson. There’s no reason to hide what I am with you, you already know. It’s nice to just be as I am.”

You stop so suddenly it takes Astarion a second or two to realize you’re no longer next to him. He tosses you a worried look over his shoulder and turns around to face you.

“Did I say something wrong?”

A warm feeling you’re not entirely familiar with but could get used to fills your chest. You’re honored to be the first person Astarion has been able to be himself with, even if that person is a relentless flirt with fangs. In a way, you feel the same. You have a lot of experience pretending to be someone you aren’t too, and Astarion seems to be bringing out a whole new side of you. Whether that's a good thing or not has yet to be determined. You have a feeling he wouldn't want you to make a big deal about this, so you say the first thing that pops into your head.

“They’re not crimson." You clarify when he gives you a confused look, "Your eyes I mean. They’re brighter than that, like this.”

You hold up one of the poppy-red colored health potions.

“What?” He asks in a low tone that you can’t quite decipher. The purple runes on the boulder you both stopped in front of begin to glow, but you don’t perceive any magical threat from them, so you return your attention to the vampire.

“Your eyes… they’re bright red. Startlingly so.”

Astarion places a hand on his chest. He looks absolutely devastated.

“Please tell me you’re lying,” He begs.

“I… I’m lying?”

“Oh this is bad. Really really bad.” He begins to pace a short line back and forth. You’ve never been so confused in your life.

“Do you not know what color your eyes are?”

He stops pacing and looks at you incredulously.

“Of course I don’t! I haven’t been able to see my reflection since this happened!” 

He pulls down the collar of his white undershirt and reveals two perfectly spaced scars on his neck. A bite wound.

You nod, still confused.

“Right… that makes sense.”

“I can’t believe no one told me my eyes were bright red. I'm going to have to throw away an entire wardrobe.”

Your concerned expression drops instantly, and you close your eyes, pressing your fingers into your temples.

“For the love of- please tell me you aren’t freaking out right now because your eyes don’t match your outfit.”

Astarion doesn’t appear to hear you, he continues to pace, muttering to himself.

“This is the worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What?” You shout, and he finally stops pacing, startled to a stop.

You genuinely can’t tell if this is an elaborate bit, or if he’s being serious.

“You were enslaved for two centuries and the worst thing that has ever happened to you is that you found out your eyes were a slightly lighter shade than you thought they were?”

Astarion doesn’t break your stare, he holds your gaze and without any discernible hint that he’s lying or telling the truth he says,

“Absolutely.”

You shake your head in mute disbelief, and reach into the bag you took off one of the dead passengers from the beach.

“What are you looking for?” Astarion asks, peering over your shoulder.

“Holy water.”

“Now wait just a minute-”

“Ahem”

Both you and Astarion leap into action at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind you.

Astarion whips the short bow off his shoulder and knocks an arrow so quickly you would have missed it if you blinked. 

You follow suit and pull your knife from your belt, turning to face the newcomer.

Your knife arm falls to the side, forgotten, when you take in the sight before you.

The glowing purple runes of the boulder were now spinning around a black hole, and sticking out of that void is a man’s arm.

An impatient and strained sounding voice, as if the owner is somewhere far away and has to shout to be heard, echoes out of the hole in the stone.

“I seem to be interrupting something, but I could really use a hand… anyone? Please?”

You sheathe your knife and step forward, glancing back at Astarion. He nods at the hand, his bow aimed at the swirling sigil. The unspoken message is clear. If anything goes wrong Astarion will shoot.

Comforted by that thought, you sidle up to the portal, an impulsive thought taking hold of you. 

What if you gave him a high-five?

You slap the hand.

Astarion snorts behind you, and the owner of the hand wags a finger at you.

“Perhaps I should have clarified. A helping hand please? I’m not sure how much time I have left before this portal closes, or what will happen if it closes while my arm is on the other side of it.”

With that in mind you abandon any notions of using magic to calm the sigil and just grip the hand in both of yours, pulling with all your might. There’s a terrifying moment when your grip slips, and you’re pulled partially into the portal as the owner of the arm falls back, but you regain your footing and try again.

This time it works, and a man launches through the portal a moment before it seals closed.

He lands half on top of you. Raising up on his arms, he looks down at you in wonder.

“You did it! I can’t believe that worked.” He laughs, sounding relieved.

“Ahem” Astarion clears his throat, much like the strange man did earlier.

His bow is trained on the stranger’s chest, his face passive, but in his eyes you see something darker than you’re used to seeing from him. 

The stranger scrambles back on his hands, standing quickly and dusting the dirt off of his robe. It looks expensive, the fabric is a thick rich purple overlaid with brown leather around his shoulders.. 

Astarion shifts the bow into one hand, and reaches the other toward you, eyes never straying from the man you just saved. You take his hand and allow him to pull you up, dusting yourself off as well. The man waves awkwardly at you both.

“Um. Hello. I’m Gale of Waterdeep.”

He lunges forward to grab your hand for a shake, but quicker than a snake strike Astarion’s bow is drawn again and aimed at his eye. He stumbles back, hands raised, and clears his throat nervously.

“Thank you for the rescue. My apologies, I’m usually better at this.”

“No need to apologize.” You place a hand on Astarion’s shoulder and he reluctantly lowers the bow.

“I’m Tav. My friend with the trust issues here is Astarion. Don’t worry, he warms up quickly. Are you okay?” you ask Gale.

“You were on the nautiloid weren’t you?” Astarion asks before he can answer, and now that you take a closer look you can see that yes, Gale does look familiar.

You study him for a moment. His shoulder length brown hair is swept back, revealing a silver earring in one of his ears. Your eyes travel down to his well kept beard, and further to a fragment of a tattoo that starts at the base of his throat and ends somewhere under his robe. He looks remarkably put together for someone who just fell out of the sky. 

“I was about to ask you the same. Back on the ship, you too were on the receiving end of a rather unwelcome insertion in the ocular region were you not?”

You and Astarion both nod.

“This insertee that we speak of, the parasite - are you aware that after an excruciating gestational period it will turn us into mind flayers? It’s a process called ceremorphosis, and let me assure you: it is to be avoided.”

Astarion side-eyes you, his eyes seem to convey a message.

I don’t like him.

You give him what you hope is an admonishing glare in response.

Be nice.

Gale doesn’t seem to notice.

“You don’t happen to be a cleric by any chance do you? A doctor? A surgeon? Uncannily adroit with a knitting needle?” He asks with a hopeful lilt to his voice and a flourish of his hand.

“Oh yes, Astarion here can knit with the best of them. Can’t you Astarion?”

The vampire twirls an arrow between his fingers and levels Gale with a bored look. 

“Define ‘needle’.”

Gale to his credit only eyes that arrow for a few moments before moving on.

“Well that’s not exactly what I had in mind. We’re most certainly going to need a healer, and soon too. How about we lend each other a helping hand once more and look for a healer together?”

You nod and smile at the charming, if not a little long winded stranger.

“I say the more the merrier. Astarion?”

Astarion turns to you, a bit taken aback.

“You’re asking my opinion?”

“Yes.”

Astarion looks at you, then at the grinning stranger in the purple robe, and sighs.

“Fine. You can keep the wizard, but if he has an accident I’m not cleaning it up.”

Gale furrows his brow.

“What is that supposed to mean? And how’d you know I was a wizard?”

“Because you smell like a library-” You clap a hand over Astarion’s mouth and immediately regret it when his eyes light up with what you know is the urge to bite your hand.

You pull away before he can make up his mind one way or the other. 

“Ignore my pale friend here, he gets cranky when he’s hungry, we should get going.” you say to Gale in an overly cheerful voice, who is now looking at you two with thinly veiled suspicion of some sort.

“You two seem close.”

You laugh, a bit hysterically.

“Would you believe me if I told you he tried to kill me an hour ago?”

Gale looks the pale elf up and down. He's still deftly twirling an arrow in his hand.

"I would actually." He says.

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, I was just prepared to do so if you didn’t answer my questions.”

“Oh okay, you should have told me that sooner Astarion that makes all the difference.”

You begin trudging along the path before you, unlikely companions in tow.

Astarion nods, his expression serious.

“I knew you’d see it my way.”

Gale walks in conflicted silence for a moment before curiosity seems to get the best of him.

"So if he tried to kill you, why are you traveling together?"

Astarion addresses the wizard before you can.

"Strange times make for strange companions Gale of Waterdeep."

~

The sun lowers steadily in the sky as you walk. It feels like walking is all you know how to do at this point. Gale and Astarion bickered for a little while over Astarion's refusal to call Gale anything except his full title "Gale of Waterdeep" but even that had died down as the heat and exhaustion caught up with them, too. Your legs burn and the temptation to turn in for the night plagues you, but you know the wilds of the sword coast are no place to sleep, and you repeat the mantra that has pushed you along these last few miles.

One more step. One more step. One more step.

You're brought out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder.

Astarion holds a finger to his lips and tilts his head toward the rocky hill in front of you. He hears something. Someone.

"Zorra was right. Yellow as a toad, and twice as ugly." a masculine voice spits.

"The thing's dangerous. Leave it for the Goblin's to kill." pleads a feminine one.

You reach the top of the hill. Shock freezes your blood when you see the thing they are arguing about. It's your Githyanki ally from the nautiloid, suspended in a tiny cage several feet off the ground above two tieflings. Your tadpole squirms as she meets your eyes, and this time instead of swapping minds, your minds seem to connect. She stares at you intently. Her lips don't move, but you hear her next words all the same.

You again. Get rid of them.

Well. The Gith are not exactly famous for their manners so you suppose the abrasiveness is to be expected.

"And if it escapes? How will you- oh. It appears we have guests."

The man catches your eye as you step into view.

You raise you hand in greeting and nod toward the trapped Githyanki.

"Oh she'll escape alright. The Gith are horribly tenacious creatures. Incredibly dangerous too. We have some experience with them. Why don't you leave her to us and we'll take care of it."

You lie through your teeth. Astarion and Gale nod along, but the three of you make a rather odd little group. Astarion looks the part of a Baldurian noble high elf, except his pupils are red and there's dried blood on his hands. Gale, the human wizard, would have no reason to have any experience with the Gith. And you, well you look like you just fell from the sky.

The tiefling hesitates. He's obviously suspicious of the three odd strangers who have appeared seemingly out of nowhere and offered to solve his problems, but the desire to no longer have the problems wins out and he nods, turning to his companion.

"She's right. Let's go. We need to check out that blast."

Your curiosity is piqued, but you want them gone as quickly as possible, so you don't ask about the blast. They take off down the path.

You turn to Lae'zel, suspended in what appears to be a goblin trap.

"Enough gawking!" She barks, "Get me down."

Maybe you're gaining some confidence out here in the wilds, maybe it's Astarion's influence, but the next words out of your mouth shock you.

"Say please."

Astarion laughs.

Lae'zel is less amused.

She rears back as if you just insulted her.

"Never."

You shrug, turning back to Astarion.

"Those teiflings looked well fed. I'll bet you there's some sort of civilization near by."

"I'll make that wager." He turns towards you, hiding his face from Gale, and gives you a devilish watch this smile.

"What say you Gale of Waterdeep?"

"If you say 'Gale of Waterdeep' one more time I will incinerate you."

Astarion winks at you before rounding on Gale, hand over his heart in mock betrayal.

"That's rather rude Gale of Waterdeep. I thought we were friends."

"Free me from this cage before I slaughter you all like the chattering animals you are!" Lae'zel hisses.

You look up at her with a frown. She sighs deeply.

"Please" She mutters.

Recognizing that's as good as you're going to get, you raise your hand, aiming for the ropes that tie the base of the trap to the rest of the cage.

"Ignis!"

Flame shoots from your hand and snaps the flimsy ropes. The bottom drops out of the frame and with it an angry Githyanki.

She lands in a crouch and stands slowly as you approach. You have to admit the move is pretty badass.

"It appears the tadpole hasn't scrambled all of your senses. Auspicious. But the longer we wait, the more it consumes. My people possess a cure for this infection. I must find a creche, you will join me."

How curious. You know a fair amount about the Gith, and you're quite sure lending a helping hand to others is not written in their doctrine.

"And what exactly is a... creche?" Astarion asks.

Lae'zel turns her withering stare to him.

"It is many things. A hatchery, a training grounds, a shelter. Githyanki protocol is clear: When infected with a ghaik tadpole, we must report to a caretaker for purification."

Gale crosses his arms.

"A simple thank you for saving your life wouldn't be amiss"

Lae'zel glares at the wizard, and he takes an intimidated step back, raising his hands.

"Or not."

She smiles, satisfied with that response.

"You might as well suggest a wyvern bow to worms. The cure I offer you will suffice as thanks."

It seems almost too easy, a solution to all your problems stands before you.

"I'm not so sure about this." Astarion mutters, and Lae'zel scowls.

She doesn't get a chance to respond, however, before the sound of pounding footsteps somewhere further in the distance has you all pausing to listen.

That's when you hear the screaming.

--------

Tag tiiiime

If you asked me to be tagged and I didn't include you please let me know, and if you didn't asked to be tagged and you are ~ You're stuck here now and I'm not sorry :b

@aoirohi

@tamwritesstuff

@smaranshakthi

@perseny

@stronglycoffeescented-blog

@hadesbabygurl

@y2cade

@screechingphantommaker

@whoopsitsloobis

@coratatum

@rando-no-5

@usuallyunlikelyfox

@kamartsu

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Mr. Rollo, how do I tell my crush I have a crush on him even though he doesn’t even know I exist and I’m too shy to approach him?

…also I think you need more sleep, you’re starting to look like a raccoon, and bae you’re not slaying that look at all

NO LEAVE HIM ALONE 😭 THE RACCOON EYES MAKE HIM CUTER (<- delusional) Rollo's voluntarily celibate/j

Like Fire, Hellfire.

"Hmph, so that is why your eyes have been wandering as of late." Rollo crossed his arms, mouth pulled back into an open frown. "You're dazed and distracted by some boy. Worse yet, it's one of those horrid mages. I can't say I approve."

You nodded sheepishly. You were doing a poor job of fighting the heat climbing to your face.

Rollo stared at you with a mixture of pity and revulsion. “If you're seeking romantic assistance, you've come to the entirely wrong person for it—especially not if you close your request off with a comment on how I present myself. I would never endorse such an endeavor to begin with."

"B-But..."

He fixed you with a stern look. "Rather than pursue the object of your affections, I strongly encourage you to abstain. Going down the path of passion will only lead you further astray. Such ardent desires should be curbed before they spiral into something you cannot hope to control."

"Whoa, whoa, don't you think that's saying too much?" you protested. "It's not like I'm going to commit murder just because I have feelings for someone."

"You may as well. Feelings of affection may appear innocuous at first glance, even comforting. I once foolishly believed the same of magic,” he spat, his words harsh and hateful. “Look where that has gotten us.”

Love. Magic. In the end, it was all the same.

Rollo set his jaw firmly, hands balling into fists. Neatly trimmed nails bit into the flesh of his palms.

“One little thing so easily snowballs into another. Infatuation leads to absentmindedness, absentmindedness leads to emotional distress, emotional distress leads to self-destruction." He waved a hand dismissively. "Not to mention all the nonsense of—"

Rollo made a face.

"—God forbid, longing looks, which leads to finger grazing, which leads to hand holding, which leads to kissing! To entrust the most vulnerable aspects of oneself to another is…!!”

Now he looked as though he was close to dry heaving. Or exploding. Maybe both at the same time.

He caught himself, and took a deep, calming breath. “… As I was saying, it would be far better for all parties for you to stash those bothersome thoughts away. No one will be hurt if you take care to avoid initiation. Heed my words: do not be tempted to sin and vice, however drunk you are on infatuation.”

“It’s not that easy.” You clutched both hands over your trembling heart. “Every part of me aches to be with him. I can’t just bury and deny these feelings. And if he ends up with someone else because I never said anything… I think that would hurt me the most.”

“You must resist its allure,” Rollo insisted sharply. “The feeling will wear away with time, I assure you.”

Just as I turned away from magic and the misery it brings.

Your shoulders slumped, hopeful expression sagging. A firecracker, at last coming to the end of its fuse—but not yet a broken heart.

You held on, steadfast. “You weren’t helpful at all, Mr. Rollo.”

“Come now, don’t make such a long face.” He heaved a sigh. “It's plain to see that there is no saving from whatever blasted enchantment has been cast upon you. All I am able to do is impart my advice and pray that you take it into consideration."

With that, he turned away. The conversation was over.

His piece was said.

Whatever happened next was up to you.

[etoilehistoire]

Dancing In the Firelight

The tiefling party. Featuring Xia, female human paladin. I've seen a few versions of the dialogue for this scene, so I picked one and then played fast-and-loose with it. This is furthering my agenda to let an asexual Astarion and asexual Tav romance each other without sex.

Astarion hated parties.

Or, well, no, that wasn’t true. Probably not, anyway. He’d hated Cazador’s parties, the ones he’d been forced to attend as eye candy and bait and spy, all rolled into one. And he hadn’t exactly had many invites since escaping to compare them to. But presumably, parties existed that he would enjoy. He’d almost certainly attended some before Cazador, and if he’d hated them, surely he’d remember that? So he probably didn’t hate all parties.

He hated this one, though.

Too many people, all of them simpering and thanking him for something he hadn’t wanted to do in the first place and still didn’t quite see the point of. Too hot. Too much noise. Terrible wine.

He grimaced and took another sip from the bottle he held. No, the wine was fine. A little dry for his liking – he preferred a touch of sweet – but perfectly serviceable. He was simply in a bad mood, and for reasons which had nothing to do with the wine and very little to do with the heat, the noise, or the people.

No, it was her.

Xia stood off to the side, sipping her own cup of wine and watching the festivities flow around her. Was she even enjoying herself? With that impassive face of hers, she could be judging them all for their frivolity and excess, or she could be having the time of her life, or anything in-between, and he’d never know.

And that was the rub. He was used to being able to read people.  His life had, after all, depended on it for quite some time. He was supposed to be the enigma, the one who hid his true intentions behind a faultless mask. Yet here she was, unreadable, and – worse – often giving the impression that she could see right through him.

The smart thing to do, the easy thing to do, would be to give up and make someone else his mark. Surely someone else in their little group would be more susceptible to his wiles – someone without her piercing stare or unsettling silences. But something in him rebelled. He wanted her.

Part of it was pragmatism. Paladins were the package deal, after all – a little magic, a little healing, and quite a lot of physical prowess. If he was going to go to all the trouble of manipulating someone into protecting him, why not go for the best? Part of it, he knew, stemmed from anger and a dark sort of humor. There would be something deliciously poetic in convincing someone so assured of their own righteousness to sleep with an undead creature like him, or to fight, not for innocence and valor, but for a bloodthirsty monster. But part of it, he wasn’t ashamed to admit to himself, was simply… pride. He’d never met a mortal he couldn’t charm or seduce if he set his mind to it, and it rankled that she’d resisted him for so long. There must be a way in, he was sure of it. Like picking a lock, it was just a question of figuring out where to apply pressure.

Well. No time like the present, perhaps. If she hated the party, maybe she’d be grateful for a distraction; if she was enjoying it, she’d be in a good mood. Either way, a festive atmosphere always lends itself to lowered inhibitions, and that could only help his cause. Taking another swig of (terrible)(fine, but too dry) wine to fortify him, he sauntered over.

“You know,” he said, sidling next to her, “I never pictured myself as a hero.” He glanced sideways to see how she reacted. “Never thought I’d be the one they’d toast for saving so many lives. And now that I’m here… I hate it.” He made an exaggerated moue, aiming for the funnybone he knew she kept buried beneath all that armor. “This is awful.”

She raised one elegant eyebrow, her cool expression never changing. “My poor vampire,” she deadpanned, her tone dry as dust. “Forced to endure the adulation of the masses. Truly, none have suffered as you do.”

Even at his expense, her teasing delighted him – it was more of a reaction than he usually got. “Yes, thank you for your understanding and your boundless sympathy,” he shot back, sketching a florid bow. “I’m just saying. We put forth all that effort, killed all those goblins-"

“Which you enjoyed.”

“-Which I enjoyed, yes, but for what? Some empty words, a little music…” He waved his bottle for emphasis. “And vinegar for wine?”

A second eyebrow rose, joining the first. Oh, yes, that was definitely amusement, and he relished it. “You got vinegar? Pity. I’m enjoying mine.” She took a long, slow sip, her eyes never leaving his, and inwardly he rejoiced. She was flirting back, finally, he was sure of it. “Maybe you should speak to someone about it.”

“Maybe.” He met her stare, brazen and bold. “Or maybe I’m in the mood for something more intoxicating than wine.”

She tilted her head, exposing her neck in a way that could have been accidental but probably wasn’t. “You fed last night.”

He chuckled. “Not that either, you little minx.” He watched her eyes. When she didn’t immediately shut down at the endearment, he considered it tacit permission to keep going. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “I was thinking… what if you and I made our own entertainment?”

She took another sip, visibly considering the idea. “Intriguing thought, vampire. Our own entertainment. Now, what might that consist of?” Her eyes danced. “Touching, perhaps?”

He tried to keep his glee from showing on his face. “Oh, almost certainly.”

She took a step closer. “And movement, maybe.”

He smirked. “I think we would move together wonderfully.”

Even closer now, invading his space, close enough to feel the heat of her skin. “Exertion. Sweat. The rhythm of two bodies working together.” Leaning in, she breathed into his ear, “Ecstasy.”

Holy shit. He’d been working on a theory that the pretty paladin might be a virgin – it would explain her reticence – but that no longer seemed likely. He didn’t know if it was the wine or the flush of victory loosening her up, but either way, he was going to take advantage of it.  “I believe we understand each other, yes.”

She set her glass down on the nearest available surface, then ran her fingers slowly down his arm. When she reached his hand, she took it gently, her face lightening with a rare, slow smile. “Agreed.”

Then she turned and began to walk away, tugging him gently to follow.

Wait, now? Not that he was opposed, but it was certainly more sudden than he had intended-

Until she stopped in front of the bonfire, just as the musicians struck up a new tune, and began to dance.

He groaned inwardly. Touch. Movement. Rhythm. Of course. She’d been playing him, and he fell for it.

She was… quite good, actually. He’d long noticed her grace in battle, how every movement flowed elegantly into the next. She was, it seemed, just as light on her feet without a sword in her hands, stepping and twirling in perfect time with the beat of the music. Others had noticed too, coming to watch and clapping along.

Well. Two could play at this game. He might not have her innate grace, but he hardly lacked for agility; the next time she extended a hand to him, he gave in and joined her.

It was a challenge at first. It wasn’t a dance he knew; it might not have been an established dance at all, might have simply been her own improvisation. After a few moments, though, he realized she was signaling her moves, if he paid attention. A step here meant a pass there; a pressure on his hand indicated a twirl, and so on. His body found the rhythm of it quickly enough, and soon it felt natural. Moving into each other’s space and back out again. Circling each other, making contact and breaking it off. Watching each other, to the point where no one else existed, to figure out where they would go next. Now and then he tried his own improvisations, using her own signals back at her to indicate what they should do next, and felt a thrill when she immediately responded to his suggestions.

He was, he realized with no small amount of surprise, having fun.

At one point it dawned on him that she was smiling – not just smiling, grinning. At him. That almost shocked him enough to fumble his steps – Xia, of the cold stares and rigid face, looking at him with such open, easy joy. He hadn’t thought of her as beautiful before. He did now.

The music ended with a flourish and so did the dance; she stepped back and dipped a deep, elaborate curtsey, and he responded with an equally overblown bow. As they stepped away someone offered them wine; Xia took a cup and handed the other to him, then wrapped her arm companionably around his waist as they headed back to a quieter part of the gathering.

Emboldened by her arm around him, Astarion smiled at her and was rewarded with another sunny grin, the corners of her dark eyes crinkling with what genuinely looked like affection. “So,” she said, breathless laughter in her voice, and snugged him closer for a moment. “Entertainment enough for you, vampire?”

He grinned back, letting himself enjoy the moment… but then, with a wash of cold, remembered it wasn’t enough. A night of dancing, no matter how fun, wouldn’t net him the loyalty he needed. He had to bind her to himself with something stronger, something she would crave. He had to.

Still… it wasn’t hopeless. She’d had her fun, teased him and won, and now… now her cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling, her blood hot. He’d never have a better moment.

“Oh, of course,” he purred. “But was it enough for you? I think you know I was offering a different sort of entertainment.” He leaned in, pitching his voice low and smooth. “And, my dear, that offer still stands.”

Shit. Shit. It was the wrong move. He knows it – knows it as soon as he hears her sigh, so faint that non-vampiric ears would have missed it. Knows it as soon as he feels her arm loosen, snaking its way free from his waist.

What would it take? She liked him, he was sure of it now. It should have been easy. She was ripe for the picking, and yet every time he tried to pluck, she pulled back.

Like now. He watched as the light faded from her eyes, as the bright smile fell back into an exasperated smirk. She took his hand again, raised it to her lips, and kissed it gently.

Her lips were softer than he’d imagined.

“Good night, Star,” she said pointedly, dropping his hand, and turned.  Walked away.

Star. She’d never called him that before.

On the one hand, the evening was a bust. He’d thoroughly failed in his efforts, once again. He’d wasted his time, been beaten at his own game, and been made a fool of.

On the other hand, he was uncomfortably aware that he had enjoyed himself far more than he would have had his plan succeeded.

Watching her walk away, he took a sip of his wine. It was sweeter than  he remembered.

[lowkey-yyy]

Slams back in with a hc

100% Dazai is the clingiest most physically demanding boy to be close with but, also is terrified of being touched, hugged or cuddled because he has never had that before. If he wanted a hug there was no one to hug for his whole childhood until Chuuya came a long but even then how is he supposed to communicate he wants human contact? He refuses to be weak enough to appear hurt and he won't touch Mori or any other older member of the mafia since it is a risk so he has no experience other than being hit or kicked. So he just doesn't seek the physical affection he craves and just protects himself. Dazai also felt that perhaps he was dangerous to touch, his ability posed risks to others and he worried that was why no one ever held him, he must have been doing something wrong after all

Years later he still doesn't quite understand it, when Atsushi hugs him he still finds himself going stiff waiting for the pain and when Chuuya comes near him he is immediately on the defensive even if he trusts his friend with his life he doesn't trust the friendly affection. Dazai despises this unsettled feeling he gets when this craving for affection is filled, he doesn't know how to react or what to say. It is like this until Kunikida, while Kunikida can be rough with him when he is soft the other doesn't expect reciprocation and realizes when he is overwhelmed and backs off but the offer is still there, he feels safe laying against Kunikida on the train and in the car during long rides.

Kunikida is surprisingly patient with him and never uses these affectionate movements to change them into harmful traps, Dazai feels reintroduced to learning how touch works. He can hug Atsushi back (somewhat, its still a work in progress) and Chuuya is still rejected but the redhead notices a change in Dazai's reaction to general contact, he isn't as off put by it and he notices that his former partner clings to his new partner rather often. The two are noticeably closer and Dazai is always holding onto Kunikida with a smile on his face.

When Dazai and Kunikida officially fall for each other the two are almost inseparable, Dazai refuses to let go and Kunikida is soft for the attention knowing how long it took to get this far so he tolerates it with a soft flush and faux annoyance although he will actively ignore the teasing remarks as to why he isn't dragging the brunette off, and when they are alone Dazai drapes himself over Kunikida and just wants to be as close as physically possible, clinging like a koala and nestled up like he is desperate for Kunikida's body heat and will in fact die without it.

Chuuya noticed the two were in love before anyone else and that was fair due to the countless years he has known Dazai and this was the first time he had seen the bandaged man desperately fall in love, he thought it was kind of adorable and he found it amusing. It was all too tempting to torment Akutagawa about how hard his former mentor had fallen for Kunikida of all people but he resisted opting to wait for the oblivious kid to finally realize it on his own. Chuuya eventually got to the point that he could touch Dazai's shoulder without recoil and Akutagawa was extremely jealous, he wanted the attention and affection too! Some day he would definitely get a hug, he was determined after seeing Atsushi get one.

Bonus :

I feel like the first time Chuuya ever tried to hug Dazai (perhaps after seeing Dazai become unsettled) that Dazai just freaked out and left as fast as he could, then proceeded to ignore and avoid Chuuya for like a week. He doesn't get how Chuuya could so easily hold him like that when obviously something was wrong with him (even if it was just in his head) and poor Chuuya had to see his only friend literally breakdown and avoid him because he tried to hug him once and is very confused. Chuuya sees it as a comfort and safe thing but for Dazai he wants and craves it but is terrified he will just get hurt instead.

Also Kunikida hugging Dazai after a tough case where Dazai could have died and just bawling over how scared he was for him, Dazai finally realizes Kunikida won't hurt him like this and he is safe and man just looses all tension to the point Kunikida freaks out thinking he broke Dazai by just holding him while Dazai having no idea what to do but wanting to stay like this is just limp and safe in Kunikida's arms. He is like a ferret, wiggly, limp and snuggly.

...

If this is bad blame it on my 2 hrs of sleep ok

[33max]

Will you write turkey dinosaurs where the cats ‘slip’ into the door? Danny frantically breaking the door for his frenemy

“I can’t find Sassy,” Max pouts as he walks into the kitchen.

Daniel is heating up some of the food that Michael has left in their fridge for dinner, some sort of chicken and broccoli pasta dish that Max might make a fuss about. He hopes not.

Daniel eyes the Bengal cat that is currently sitting on top of their fridge watching his every movement, staring at the meal as he takes it out of the microwave. That one will be Jimmy then, the one that is giving him the stink eye. Max can tell them apart easily, Daniel is still learning.

“Did you check in the guest room?” Daniel asks, “You know how she likes to sleep buried underneath all your plushies.”

When Max is regressed he is only allowed to take two plushies into their bed at night, and the rest have to stay in the guest room. Which is why there is an absolute mountain of plushies in there. Daniel cannot resist buying things for Max, and he especially cannot resist the way Max gives every single plushie its own personality and the way he takes care of them so tenderly.

“I looked there,” Max tells him, tugging a little on Daniel’s shirt, asking for attention.

“We’ll look for her after dinner, okay?” Daniel says, “She’s probably sleeping and doesn’t want to play right now, baby.”

“But I want to cuddle her, Jimmy doesn’t let me cuddle…” Max grumps, tugging at Daniel’s shirt again. That’s a clear sign that Max needs some affection, so Daniel turns around to give Max his full attention and pulls him into a hug.

“How about a cuddle with Daddy instead?” Daniel asks, guiding Max’s head to rest on his shoulder and gently stroking his back. He kisses the top of Max’s head as he feels him relax against Daniel’s body.

“Love,” Max says into Daniel’s shoulder, his hot breath tickling.

Dinner goes smoothly, Max doesn’t make too much of a fuss about the broccoli, instead sitting calmly as Daniel feeds him little pieces on a fork. Sometimes Max will feed himself and other times, like tonight, he likes the special attention from Daniel as he chops and feeds Max bites of food. It’s intimate. Tender.

It’s later, when Max is curled up against his side on the sofa, that Daniel realises he’s still not seen Sassy roaming around their apartment. It’s usually around this time that she jumps up into Max’s lap, makes gentle biscuits and then tries to herd him off to bed. Hmm.

“Stay here for a second, baby,” Daniel tells Max, gently moving out from underneath Max and lowering him down to lie on the sofa. Max grumbles a little at the movement, but Daniel guides the binkie on the end of his binkie clip back into his mouth to settle him. It seems to work.

Time to find Sassy girl.

He goes into the guest bedroom to check if she’s there, maybe Max didn’t look between all the plushies as well as he had said. So Daniel roots through the soft toys, rearranging all of the plushies on the bed one by one but there’s still no sign of Sassy. Hmm.

He opens the doors to the wardrobe in the guest room where they keep all of Max’s little clothes, and she doesn’t come darting out of there either.

While he’s checking the en-suite bathroom Jimmy curls around his leg, meowing at him and giving him the stink eye again. His meow sounds more like a moaning groan, a disgruntled grumble. Daniel thinks it’s because he’s lost Jimmy’s sister. He probably deserves it.

He decides to put extra kibble in the cat bowls to see if that will entice Sassy out of her hiding place, it’s but that backfires because Jimmy scoffs it all. Little twat.

It’s as he’s making his way back to the sofa to check on Max that he hears a soft meow. It’s definitely Sassy because it’s not the kind of moaning guffaw that comes from Jimmy. Daniel follows the sound until he realises she’s in the cupboard. She must have run in there earlier when Max went to retrieve his light-up shoes from the shoe rack.

Gosh, that was hours ago. Poor Sassy.

Daniel twists the handle to the cupboard door, expecting Sassy to barge out and run to her food bowl, but instead the door doesn’t move at all. It’s stuck. He tries again, but there seems to be something jammed behind the door.

Oh god.

He thinks about trying to shoulder barge it open, but that would definitely startle Max awake and scare him. Max doesn’t deserve to be woken up like that, but Daniel does need to get Sassy girl out of this cupboard as soon as possible.

“We’ll get you out, Sassy girl…” Daniel says to the silly little cat through the door, before heading back to the sofa to get Max.

He’s sleeping. Mouth wide open. His binkie must have fallen out because it is now hanging from the binkie clip attached to his hoodie. He’s got Mr Roar tucked tightly under his arm and he looks so peaceful.

“Maxy, we have a special mission…” Daniel says gently. He runs his fingers through Max’s hair, trying to provide comfort as he wakes his baby up. It always feels so mean to disturb Max’s sleep when he’s little, he does need plenty of rest.

“Hmmf,” Max mumbles, nuzzling his head into Daniel’s hand. He’s so cute and sleepy, but poor Sassy is still in the cupboard.

“Sweetheart, Daddy has found Sassy…” Daniel tells him, and that does the trick. Max opens his eyes and starts looking around for his cat.

“Where?”

“She’s in the cupboard, but she’s stuck!” Daniel says, gasping dramatically and keeping his voice light and non panicked. He doesn’t want to upset Max. “We have to get her out… a Maxy and Daddy mission.”

That seems to perk Max up a bit because he starts to sit up.

“Mission?”

“I think we’re going to have to break down the door, sweetheart,” Daniel says, “She’s stuck and she’s probably hungry… So, are you ready to break a door with Daddy?”

“Yes!” Max squeaks. Daniel wasn’t expecting this level of excitement, but he supposes it’s the rescue element that is exciting to Max, rather than breaking a door.

Daniel grabs the hammer from underneath the sink, it’s pretty much the only tool they have in the apartment, along with a screwdriver. It’s not like they do much DIY, Daniel’s pretty sure the last thing he actually built was Max’s toy chest all those months ago… but that was flat packed with everything he needed in the box.

“Right, Maxy, I want you to cover your ears because this will be quite loud…” Daniel says, motioning for Max to place the palms of his hands over his ears to block the noise out.

Max does it, so Daniel decides to tease him, mouthing the words can you hear me?

“What?” Max asks, adorably confused. Daniel can’t help but laugh, ruffling Max’s hair.

“Okay, stand back,” Daniel instructs, using his serious Daddy voice before he swings the hammer at the centre of the door. It cracks the wood, splintering the surface, but it is going to take a lot more to make a hole big enough for Sassy.

He keeps hitting the door, checking on Max between each swing to make sure he’s doing okay. Max still has his hands firmly over his ears, but he’s hopping from one leg to the other, clearly excited for when the door finally caves in and Sassy comes charging out.

“I think it needs one more big hit,” Daniel tells Max, “Do you want to try?”

“What?” Max asks, unable to hear him. Daniel gently peels Max’s hands away from Max’s ears and repeats the question. “Yes! I will get her out, Daddy!”

Max does not usually have very good hand-eye coordination, not when he’s big, and especially not when he’s regressed… so it is a shock to Daniel when Max swings the hammer and hits the centre of the door with surprising accuracy. As the hole grows in the door, the meowing from inside gets louder, and Sassy’s full volume is unleashed from behind the wooden frame.

“Hi Sassy,” Max says, peeking through the hole to greet the cat. He giggles. “What are you doing in there?”

It takes Daniel a couple of attempts, but he manages to put his arm through the hole and fish Sassy out from the other side. He’ll deal with the fact that the door is stuck closed tomorrow, maybe call Michael to help him out. Or the building’s handyman.

He can’t really be bothered to care about a broken door, when he has a lovely regressed Max and two mischievous cats to care for.

As expected, Sassy runs straight to her food bowl. Thanks to Jimmy, it is empty.

Daniel helps Max pour some kibble into her bowl, only accidentally spilling a few pieces over the kitchen floor, which Jimmy will definitely scoff while Sassy eats her dinner.

“Cuddle now?” Max whispers to Sassy when she has finished eating, and Daniel’s heart swells. There is something about watching Max innocently interact with the cats, asking for their affection, and loving them so dearly, that makes Daniel want to hold him close and never let go. This is his family.

Except Sassy must know what time it is because rather than following them to the sofa she begins her routine of herding Max into the bedroom.

“Daddy! She is putting me to bed!” Max squeaks, outraged.

“I think we better follow her orders then,” Daniel laughs, following Sassy to the bedroom.

Sassy meows at Max while he brushes his teeth. And while Daniel gently rubs moisturiser into the soft skin of his face. If Sassy could talk, Daniel thinks she would be telling him to hurry it up.

But as soon as Max gets into bed, Mr Roar tucked up by his side, Sassy leaps onto the bed and begins to make gentle biscuits on top of the comforter.

“Good night, Sassy!” Max laughs, stroking her back gently. “Soft.”

Daniel shuffles across the bed so he can take Max in his arms. He kisses Max’s forehead a handful of times, before turning out the light.

“Daddy?” Max says into the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“Love,” Max tells him. What a sweet boy.

“I love you too,” Daniel smiles. Words don’t feel enough. Sometimes it feels like Daniel is going to explode with love for his boy.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah?”

“Where is my binkie?”

Of course. How could Daniel forget? He reaches over, rooting around in the drawer of their bedside table, and pulls out a binkie. He can’t tell which design it is in the darkness. That will be a surprise for the morning.

“Here you go, baby,” Daniel says, pressing the binkie to Max’s lips until he feels Max take it into his mouth and begin soothing himself with it.

Daniel curls around Max, legs tucked up behind Max’s, and an arm draped around his waist. He falls asleep to the sound of Max gently suckling on the binkie, his face being tickled by the soft brush of Max’s hair.

[crimsonblackrose]

.

I wonder if the gave the guy who kinda bullies Kreese the same type of banana boat car that Mr. Miyagi drove and then gave Daniel on purpose.

I think it's supposed to be yellow but with the filter they put over it I'm not sure. No, I pulled up a shot I took of the banana boat and it's the same interior and everything.

Kreese's mom killed herself.

Kreese I was bullied and the worlc was cruel so I became a bully and cruel myself.

Everyone is back to white belt. And there's a bunch of kids now.

There's also a new girl.

Which is wild to me. What parent would be like, oh man there's so much violence right now with karate, a kid got put in a coma, let me enroll my kid in karate. ????

Lol and this is from your pale friend demetri. 🤣 Carmen, I adore you. She also listened to everything Demetri said, like don't leave it near the window because the plastic isn't uv resistant. Such a Demetri little caveat. Looks like an issue of Dungeon Lord, which Demetri loves but no clue if Miguel likes it.

That's from the LaRusso's.

Where's sensei? Well he was there, he bashed his head into a corner of a metal paper towel dispenser because he had no other way to see you, talked to you before he was caught and kicked out again. Now he's trying to find his son.

How far away is this place that Shannon's at that Johnny fell asleep? Though who knows, dude might just be exhausted from punishing himself.

Daniel keeps advil in the glove compartment. Daniel, you live in LA why would you keep medication in the glove compartment. Medication is affected by temperature. With the LA heat, that stuff probably doesn't work as much any more or it's changed.

Yoga, painting, trays of breakfast. Nice rehab: Malibu Canyon Recovery.

Lol I mapped it, it's only 16 minutes away from Reseda. Johnny's just exhausted.

She totally thought Daniel was dropping of his partner for rehab.

Shannon's journaling, Amanda sent her lavender essential oil helped with her insomnia. She's also going to kudos and concerns and has a life coach. She wanted to look for Robby but was advised against it.

man this must suck for Johnny. Daniel at his core is someone who wants to help people and he's helping pretty much everyone around him, but spent so much time fighting Johnny when Johnny wanted to just run his business. Like Daniel was Daniel at his core in episode 1. With the car. But between that and this point, except for the occasional run into each other because we have to via Amanda, the don't get along.

Johnny don't knock it, it's working for her, let it work. Plus 99% sure it's not her money but Daniel's.

Johnny's vacation idea was a monster truck show and he loved Truckasaurus.

They're bickering, they always bicker. I'm glad Shannon stood up for her rehab though.

Kreese you are too giddy about this trick. Bert named him Clarence. Rip Clarence.

This is messed up Kreese. Bert should've taken that hamster and run. But he uses it to weed out the kids from his dojo with soft hearts, which is pretty much all the new kid kids I spotted.

It is a pretty snake. But still, messed up Kreese.

Poor Bert. He's been kicked of teh team.

Hawk is the new Miguel. But like Kreese's Miguel at least for the moment.

Kreese decorated with war photos, military photos and a grenade????

The interior of Tory's apartment looks an awful lot like Johnny's and Carmen's apartment interiors. She's in apartment 2.

Tory's mom is on dialysis

Apparently the reason why Tory isn't in more trouble is because she's taking care of her little brother and mom. And she's already working doubles. She also has a probation officer and this guy is such a creep. He essentially is saying pay rent or sleep with him which she's still a minor. She's got community service hours, probation and studying for her GED.

Robby's 'friends' are in juvie and I think they're there because of their fight with Daniel. RSP is the name of the place. They're now scared of Mr. LaRusso and I guess not so much of Johnny because he showed up already beaten up.

They'd scam people at Tech Town in Panarama City.

I hate that the doctor had this conversation with Miguel's mom on the other side of his window and not somewhere private like his office.

Johnny being annoying with the corn nuts. 😂

A lead, what are you Tango and Cash, movie recommendation I guess from Amanda.

I love that Johnny knows the reference but thinks he has to lean over and talk to Daniel's lap to say hi to Amanda.

Johnny: I'm not lying to your wife for you.

And we've lost 1 corn nut in Daniel's car.

Kreese is going to let Tory attend classes for free. How very...Miyagi/Daniel of him.

Betsy's abusive ex's name was David. I really want to know which college he's supposed to be attending, but I can't tell with the letterman.

Lol David punches his friend.

young kreese to betsy: Need a lift, then back to modern day with Johnny getting gas with a sign that says lift. I see what you did there.

Daniel's to good for gas station food. I have no clue what Johnny asked for, almost looks like a churro.

Hey look at that, Amanda told Daniel to tell Johnny something and he actually did.

amount of corn nuts lost in Daniel's car: unknown as the whole bag hit Daniel in teh face and they flew behind him as Johnny peeled out of the gas station.

And Johnny broke Daniel's mirror. Bud, even if he's got insurance, Johnny that's still arguably a hit and run because you hit someone else's car, and insurance probably won't cover it because you were driving on the wrong side of the road when it happened. Sure, you're covered arguably by permissive use, but still, that was technically a hit and run.

Another great fight scene! Daniel's got the brain cell because this time Johnny's on papa bear mode, of where is my son.

Johnny pushes Daniel out of the way, but that also means the guy with the chain can fight Daniel.

Another guy goes for Johnny's neck, but this time with a chain. Whose keep score? I lost count. Third time? Fourth?

Hey look a sucessful: Duck. Daniel ducked and Johnny hit a guy with a wrench, which ow.

Oh hey, Daniel's in his first choke hold of the series.

Amazing team work.

Yes, Johnny should've stopped, but at the same time Daniel you didn't stop when you thought Sam was in danger or calm down even when Johnny tried to ask you to.

Johnny is right, you included Johnny on it. Saying you can't believe he taught kids isn't fair. This is his son. You'd do the same for Sam, you literally did before. And Johnny is going through it. Saying look how Robby turned out isn't quite fair to Daniel because again, what happened to Miguel was an accident. But this...

That's a low blow Daniel. Uncalled for. Which Daniel like instantly realizes because Johnny just completely crumples at that and takes the van, now his van because he never returns it, and leaves.

Sometimes Daniel's just...mean.

This is one of those moments where I go: GO GRANDPA KREESE GO!

Also whoever did the transitions, while I saw what you did last time, hate this one. Hate it so much.

I want to know what the arrangement is? Free rent? Or just a buffer for this week.

That is a terrible lunch Miggy. A cheese hot dog, beans, carrots, green beans and something red.

Johnny kept his hospital bracelet from last time so he could sneak in.

Surprisingly 100% the truth. He also got into a fight with two guys in a parking garage, but he also did take on the paper towel dispenser.

lol he's just listing them off. Couple goons at chop shop, paper towel despenser, some dudes in a parking garage. Guys just picking a fight with everything and everyone.

😭😭😭😭 He did what he was taught, showed mercy and now he might never walk again.

MIGGGYYYYYY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Robby's eating with Shannon. Looks like he's eating a half eaten sandwich. Poor kid probably hasn't eaten in days.

Awww the way Robby curled in on himself, scared then made himself smaller when he saw Daniel.

Robby, again, accident. Any one of the other fights could've ended up even more terrible. You didn't realize the railing was right there. You were scared and terrified and horrified but what happened.

First thing he wants to know after apologizing and promising to pay Daniel back for the van is to ask if Sam is okay.

I do appreciate that Daniel tells Robby that everyone's worried about him, even his dad. and then apologizes to him and promises to help him. that he talked to a lawyer and tries to explain the reduced sentence, but of course Robby hears the police coming first and feels betrayed. "You just kept me talking so I wouldn't leave."

Daniel promises to visit every day. But that trust is broken.

Johnny had multiple classes of students he trained and cultivated, and Kreese has kicked all but these ones out.

Kreese calls Betsy Doll-face.

He's off to basic training in Monterey (about a half hour away)

Kreese monologuing very quietly while all the kids are shouting. 😂I get that it's supposed to be them listening to it, but with how loud they're shouting, I kinda doubt they'll hear him at his conversation level of speaking rather than speaking louder.

[linguisticparadox]

Edited my fic to put the stuff I'd cut back in (well, most of it) and made a bunch of tweaks and changes. I'm a little proud of it at this point ngl, and maybe you'll see what I meant before when I said the previous versions were rushed.

Blahhhhh. Anyway.

Full text below the cut bc it's still veeeery much 18+, or you can go to the original AO3 link, which has been updated.

Mina's hair was soft between his clutching fingers as they kissed, her tongue and breath hot in his mouth.

She was on top of him, and both their nightclothes were hitched up over their stomachs, with her bare thighs straddling his pelvis as she ground her hips into him. He could feel her growing slick against his skin as she worked her buttocks up and down his shaft.

The hair rose on his arms as her lips began to wander. She kissed the hollow of his cheek, first, and the side of his chin, and then he felt her smiling indulgently as she trailed around to the corner of his jaw, and just behind it, to the secret place she knew by his ear that made him shiver.

His left hand took a bigger fistful of her hair while his right hand gripped her shoulder, and he groaned, as if he was holding himself steady, braced for an upheaval. On any other night, she would have stopped there, pulled back to mount him, and ridden him to climax.

But instead, her lips continued their wandering, and her breath quickened against his skin. A faint moan escaped her, as she moved down past his jaw to his throat, and Jonathan felt a rush of electricity through his skull. She was normally almost silent when they made love -- when he'd asked her why, she'd smiled, and kissed him gently, and said that it thrilled her to harken to all the little signs of the pleasure that she brought to his body.

She gave another soft moan, and he felt her tongue and lips engulfing his skin, gulping at him with a voracious passion that surprised and excited him. She continued down his neck, and finally lingered at the side of his throat, just above the vein.

He felt the edges of her teeth against his skin as she progressed, still moving her hips on him in an ancient, instinctual rhythm, while the heat and tension grew in his groin: she would soon bring him to a finish, and from the warmth in her thighs he knew she would not be far behind.

But suddenly, she stopped.

She sat up, pale as the linens of their marriage bed, covering her open mouth with her hands and staring at him with a look of terror that made his stomach clench and chased away all thoughts of passion.

He let the dark, tousled hair slip from his fingers, and propped himself up on his elbows. "What is it, darling?" he whispered.

He craned his neck to look at the spot on the wall above him, where she was now staring fixedly. He could see nothing.

He turned back to her. "Mina, what's wrong?"

She blinked, as if wakened from a spell, and looked down at him, with her hands still over her mouth. Her hair, wild from their lovemaking, hung unheeded like dark vines over her face. He could see the glittering of tears in her eyes, catching in the moonlight from the window.

He reached out, gently, and pulled her hands away from her mouth. He met no resistance as he kissed the shapely, clever fingers. "Please, Mina," he said. "Tell me. Let me try to put it right."

She closed her eyes, and shook her head slowly, as if trying to shake off a dream. "Didn't you feel it?" she murmured.

He let go of her right hand, and smoothed some of the obscuring locks behind her ear. "Feel what, darling?"

She did not answer.

"Come now," he said, "there must be no secrets between us." He could feel her left hand trembling, still held in his grasp.

Her voice trembled, too, as she murmured, hoarsely, "I--I was going to bite you. I wanted to. I very nearly did--you must have felt it!" She shuddered. "Oh, God!"

She clenched her free hand, and brought it to her mouth, bowing her head and crumpling in on herself. "Oh, my poor husband," she moaned, "what have you done to deserve such a wicked wife?"

He stared at her. Her skin was silver in the moonlight, shining from beneath the rivulets of dark, tangled hair that tumbled in sensual abandon over her shoulders. Her smooth, broad thighs still straddled his hips, and the unbuttoned neck of her nightdress revealed the twin swells of her breasts.

"I would have let you," he said.

She remained in her bowed posture, but raised her eyes and stared at him in shock through the tangles of hair that still hung before her face.

"What?" she said. It was hardly louder than a sigh.

Jonathan found that he had stopped breathing. His mouth was dry, and his tongue felt thick. He swallowed, and moistened his lips with his tongue.

"I wanted you to do it," he told her. He resisted the impulse to avert his eyes, holding her gaze as her pale cheeks flushed crimson to match his own.

"But," she paused, her eyes roving unconsciously as she gathered the words; and when she spoke, she whispered, as if she were afraid of being overheard: "doesn't it frighten you?"

He lowered his left hand, and, pushing himself up on it, pressed a chaste kiss onto her lips.

"There is nothing in you that I would ever fear," he said, as he pulled away.

"But Jonathan," she insisted, and he felt her tremble again, "what if it means--" She stopped short, and looked at him carefully. He waited in silence, hardly daring to breathe.

She pulled her right arm in to her body, laying her closed hand on her breast. Her voice was low as she said, "It is not only this, you know. I have long feared--"

She stopped, and swallowed thickly, lowering her eyes to the bedspread beside them, neatly stitched with pink flowers -- an engagement gift from Lucy.

"You must know, Jonathan," she continued, "that the vampire left its mark on me."

Jonathan sat up, slowly, raising both his hands, and with them gathered up all the wild locks and smoothed them back from her face. Holding her head tenderly between his hands, he gently traced a thumb over her forehead: first from top to bottom, and then left to right.

He looked into her eyes, then, and said, "There is no stain of that awful horror left in you. This--" He lifted his head and pressed his lips against the smooth, unblemished skin of her brow, with all the reverence of a penitent sinner kissing the wounds of Christ, "--is proof of that."

Her shoulders shook as the threatened tears began to fall. She grasped his left hand, and pressed it to her cheek, leaning into the warmth. For a moment, she could not speak. He waited.

"I know," she said at last, "I know that God has taken the corruption of the vampire out of my heart, at the final death of him who placed it there. But--" she turned her head and pressed her face into his hand, as if to hide her shame-- "but He cannot, or--or will not, take all the wickedness of my human soul, and there are times--"

She stopped, and began again.

"There are times when I think back--on my own transformation, yes, and the red eyes and whirling mist; but I think of the beautiful lips and sweet mouths of those three awful women, too, and--and rich, red blood spilling from pink flesh, pierced by those sharp teeth..."

She stopped again with a soft cry, overcome, and with closed eyes, she mustered herself to go on. "And I-- oh, Jonathan, I feel a stirring, such a wicked stirring, as I should only feel for you, my own beloved husband."

She ended abruptly, and looked at him with wide, wary eyes.

He lifted her hand, and kissed it. "You read my journal, dearest one," he said. "I have no secrets from you. You know that I, too, have felt the thrall of the vampire's seduction." She began to protest, and he set a finger to her lips. "And besides, you know that I would gladly follow you, even into Hell--or worse places, if need be."

She pushed his hand away, suddenly furious, and sat up on her knees, knocking him back onto the pillows. "Don't you see?" she cried. "Don't you understand? That is precisely what I fear the most!"

She scrubbed at her cheeks with the back of one hand, pushing away the tears, and went on. "It is bad enough if I alone should fall from God's grace, for the stain of my own sins, of my own free will--but to drag another with me, into darkness and despair--!"

His response was fierce and sudden, welling up unbidden as he looked in awe upon the face of his wife glowing hot with emotion.

"Drag me!" he cried. "Drag me! God himself could not drag me away from you, not if you were taken for torment to the deepest pit of Hell! Not if the earth itself, and Heaven and Hell, and everything and everyone in creation were arrayed against me!"

"Jonathan, please...!" The tears were falling freely again now. She pulled her hands and body away, and wrapped her arms around herself, shrinking down as if bent beneath a heavy weight.

"Please, don't talk like that," she wept. "It's a sin, Jonathan, and I-- I'm not worth it. No!" she said, seeing him start up to protest. "No one is worth that, Jonathan! And I couldn't stand to think that I had caused you any pain!"

He sat up again, and this time she didn't stop him. He pulled her close to himself, cradling her, and whispered, "You, my darling, are worth any pain, any suffering." He pressed his face into the dark, fragrant hair, and went on in a murmur. "I told you once that I would go through all the past again to win your trust, and I meant it."

He brushed a running tear away from her cheek with his thumb. "And I mean it now, tenfold."

She sobbed, and pressed her face into his chest. One hand grasped at his nightshirt, balling itself up in the fabric, as if she were only a frightened child, waking from some dreadful dream to the comfort of a warm hand and soothing voice.

Impulsively, he began to tenderly stroke the ruffled hair -- and felt his blood run cold as the familiarity of the scene struck him. But his hand never faltered or wavered, as it trailed soothingly through the dark locks, and lifted, and repeated the action, over and over. And at last, Mina's crying stopped, and she fell asleep, safe in the arms of her husband.

[libidomechanica]

“But longing want to teenish”

A rispetto sequence

               1

One breeding on the Princess—why not vary, he hall-door, and and fly all wear, tis song, and morning down and drizzling destinies, to

the clown, rent; of heaven. But longing want to teenish hungry peak these shepecote, in the world when a pile one poor flocks the Heaven.

               2

Seeing there around, strike thinke no memoree. When you mought him aright that am I, and you live an amorous Leander one count,

they met. Aye, I thing by; but, that ensues from herbs and sparrow when Januar’ wind while thee into thee what tell my steep, as she, Let son!

               3

As where? Should brother worser face impers of stone to the came to Vivian-place resist: curst accept the Indian days be over

yet a pleasure; I am very saul, that secret for cobweb lawn, see now foreground heat the wren had from my morn: shall do it.

               4

A vestige of accident. Unless upon the charm her burnt because eastered at thought is somethings here foolished, bounting back

a press upon me was more replete with a cycle, we willowers direct, exquisited this end you be happen to herye, none.

               5

He has such cunning down to melts of three: husband into the dead and all it were I loathsome chaungeable stem But such euill a centure!

The missay, who lord of the air land March her. Like a Statue of my nest. And whining, my day go in together; for her trees.

               6

When looks o’erpower. I keep the night; back to you: besides. Charlie, he stand but in for in Christian craft is the bath assume us

is a sharks from your to sue nothings on my will part was’t shame, some beauty in the palms of flesh—in his own. In mine of steep in fields.

               7

Where and Cosset favour and when gaunt minstrung, puppet to harsh net? In year American Triple me, and hair, to lay at relaxed,

to language but, whom we gave told to catch: of process! Of his frequent wool and leaves in flash’d our her a light forward, as if she lost.

               8

Light of you are gone, Live! Equal to rise, reliue. Like for neither carke. And helped upon us to me, And one were two wide Border not

long, it will young heards dance of Time, the dewe drouth, and did driue so gentle, where? Which flowers, and some Dreams are the ventured catalepsy’.

               9

To be venom-bag, and in a momental sea while her sapped pale little place. Dark in miserable reed disturb the iron gate is

english is fixedly as with fearing she waterspouted, ere I hope is it, mermaid’s no other ere I live, the night the guest!

               10

Trembling is scarce expressed again. This he ladies. Where enamour elbows: on a whirlwind: I by day he world star. Who canst the lays

head a lively he touch’d then strained and nigh. Your is come other drums, a though the day and other as I have powerful love must be?

               11

Too stranged, and kind, shall I lie wishing Lilly, and shall burnt rounds were dead, deep he lips: breather’d all with not, rape, thou came within the

flowers. ’ And three: husband, smile on the Foxes creeping shadows, tongue that idle man ne’r before a whirlwind a weigh hearing Two grew.

               12

Then it in dew limpid asleep. All the lived whom my heauen the holy must deep the pale look up Now thrown? With true that arc his close old

that by theirs of Eternal brink. Eye, and of man. Of newe went, didonis kept sayshould save, half-entrance tough bent his that make delight.

               13

My song, all be? The Prince: then tried, and play upon a peace? Soules the strenuous spot, now that until time’s ward, honour meat; and pray that

made! Hard then, Sir’ I; and all I would behold, perfectly-chisled cheek, like ourse, and heathy house-clocks to ourse their practice eulogies.

               14

Voice none you tell to Loue of pray. Finger. Hark, and that crazed within the his freshment iudge betters that hunterfeit is poorer prettiest.

Beating blast—thou shall be; weel my man, with tears all the battered o’ersnow’d vine, I shall sweetness of deed was molded but thou should hat.

               15

Enchanted their thoughts concealed thriue, and sound upon his darting through many time it thy prison me if every sweetest land? Long to

the down the mellows and is true Love’s walked ere flower forgetfulness. We know had reheads, lashes she man! This might of half houshold.

               16

And new, and trill, and wets the sealed: the ages wild as like weeds of bliss for the dreary might a tomb. I feel one hair riots, in the

meadow to take hath to sleep or shall cups our beauty and who make an effort of the things that be for restled laugh many wrough blind.

               17

They were half a perfect ceremony a curious taste of worth to searing hours, I turn to bind, at dimme any evidence,

with thee, I though fowl croak the palms in like a iolly shades call the crowd—tomorrow. And, descended not lone I lay and brows her fears.

               18

I would confus’d Destinies, even of think us while your shadows dapple you luld have me from gray sea shove, let state, half-amaze

of all those from the bed to wedded the trader, priuely I not be rocks an element, woodland, tost open, with hymn. Belovéd!

               19

To pour’d there will be? Why should staff she has clear as them still thy heart compact, each from heaven, nor the other tree was mind give to passing

arter by sight nay! Secrete heard Loues spur, then in the part his own single lift hour of golden cherished him. With his voices smart.

               20

Wide she courts of thickly to imbibe it elastic streams are. Our vale, his less revenge these? Yet prove an aged for I might him in

awe we lived the mercy the cheating at thought! And when the other a plead thy mammie’s warke: the finger. Which I rise, Most minstrels shine.

               21

A daught to there in with coral. True-love length and I had gone souereign’d As large full for wounded. Thy troth, and speak, and Hopes apart strove

sun’s low and was she light into rose: he fierce to Loue, curling, as much, not they deftly shall in her laughing her flocksley Hall; there thee.

               22

Courage, goethe’s my Highland agony, mutteringles, and I returned among time found all hedges drowned. Her girl wast grief to beare,

daring news of lawn, seated the silence: these thought of thee, I dibbled steep performer lost to you: then came rocks,—and Shírín then shaw.

               23

She fled! If I come by loveling, and sorrow is to breast, that Beauty, not spie! He king I am mortality of many

a mist while some ghosts, and know the cure! By this, things on them where paused with an inflated out, first day- tide. Must which husband, after nine.

               24

Am madness of view she is a bird hated upon the matter hearted thinking displeasant sighest own, and watched up your garments

have so fair, but once as theyr steal about this best how smooth pity that faith. Cause he measures by a cheeks like one do speak in love.

               25

Hands from their weak to vision our virtuous reported behold and what all men, and fell, my joy and through and flush sang naturally

downwards that a treached upon his moorland Mary. Will be, and I, thou, that time or a selfsame the find, that tall he distance pearls.

               26

Robed to the looks behind he, to ponder innocent because I love Europe’s should all from the robes of her have it pleach’d new glove

young, think. To tell you in shall I reed, to linger. How there. Here I bid her false to leaden path called it. One I frowning the cooleree.

               27

Heard not know, I thy soule steal about you; found my eyes, and the bounded took the most sweete are that Light is high certainty toying like

they fall old bygones dumb presence beast aged Saturn there were I returning rose. Than Morpheus in California and Adonais!

               28

Mother, they stiless, and stung and tended throught to unknown joy, thy beauteous forth and from my bones, that seldom thou Englishman, of a

solemn fearful light not with stand take thing in the dead, so long, a countrywoman, town, and her ire; she kitches be over hands. Swamp.

               29

It least doth no brow, a cap instincture fetch me so was not how the beach; a chamber me richer please, that will no glowed might to the

dewy splendours to fair tiptop nothing his battering billows retires, but the Flood, where cry. In the conventide. And I have seen.

               30

’ Horizon’s silver brother. Which its roots are burn in foot was gone bag man, and throngs of which my head stooped that being away! No heauie

herd, sincere carnation of faire dispell, yet again each to set his too deeper to be sing, was still my ain lass throng might to cleare.

               31

Tobacco, neck herself years to learnt, with so discourself to pale for the ocean-ridge, will, melissa knell on thee as then the fauour

and over hand, and a bonie Jeanie or no more bene a sum of shame. That the soft amazed with gentle little sphere Adonais.

               32

She resume; and sign or page, I gave upon the Caspian spread that which it is wanton lassie, kindling down I’ll hauiour garden

walls were living shame, it springs wander is ever, to desire my ain. Of the scorn with many sea nymphs’ enveigling have his.

               33

Fully I stood trill, and, as not out of the sullen year is a firm foot, but if to sore he has clear which in her hostage till the

gates the into like some behold, the gold. A Haire: when I died, luxury, he reflected carried forest-house, now some downes and choose.

               34

If this mourned at rest of the gusty formal come be in a tuft of her kirtle embraced at ease the silly she same so longed Chieftain!

Pleasure re-animate grass upon the cruel space; its do to heart what sleep she is doubts, displays has-ke, ystables, just tarry.

               35

With a blest? And fro shrunk with her shining; forst sin nor eloquench’d the pigweed spot shall play; I put do in the clouds, and afternoon

when wealthy Sistered charities and to pry and dare, no lingers, Fenwicks, seeing all thy faces level may bread away free.

               36

The pinion. You at thou can scandal, a wide all their cheeked my beauty had know. Magnanimous eyes glows a moment stuck o’er-sweet, as

the level stone-crop starry yearning, my darling lethal and bare two are clear: six thousands morning our down a paleness upon.

               37

Her fancy; what all waite. But on a silver-fond: so, love that the fear to boom as one as if a Poland ranne of many a pass

and puff from all the chase fear our gloom, in your bondslave to be done, he college lights made barren sleepe, as fragrant in women’s implies.

               38

Of poetical of sighing, as thy honour hand it, consuming shadow from their broad. On sense at will no other, her look well, the

raindrops they that blink. When we felt. As linesse no hope it seemed shepherd, in his Son, her vows, poor moment day of men requestionship.

               39

The find now on the from his night. Then such cold it not die of form delight that bondslave a gentle shadows, whereat paine. Were and puffs

of hopes outreachery, women heaping turned. Thou done thou wert deadly brake, the told on the cast up from benediction fools delight.

               40

Then I stoop my heart of pain ere found the snow up for a last, full verse. I, may aye between you a tide Thee moved between my souls’

sacrifice and one poor branches swain one in extreme hope from hue to dishevell’d with gold, or fair Scylla alone, ridden in double.

               41

For none bittering soul, or far away cool refrain that my hand, convulsion that from the valley of his banner real glances added,

looking of sadden’d together. Then can well; fair tho, thy Beauty in Life, or a whirl around my thou that which the braw gently?

               42

Be you so; that bowers are gone. Alas, dost thought day though evening the world confused such did see, my dear made. I have ye e’ening. Hark,

and will sweetest she goe nye, for breast: see the lightened mile-and-a- half the which young. Now lends the dangling to end their appointing lines!

               43

Amendment, from the old and through th’ ever. And whining, and he round Leander, brighted Troth, when we find Wordsworth not yet am

I told that won by the evilly see heaven broidered though roll. But, Delia dawn; her level stood alone thee to gloves. Eye.

               44

By the cross my own skin, howe my love minds, sike deep and kiss, seemed to the deuoured boding for on her love, but on the spiders here was

once did it or by their dull breast down tongue thee to our serve, I present iudge be swept saying. The Death, ere love you I look her their prey.

               45

After nine desolation I would be kind seal dome copses in mesh, and yours they eye couldn’t consumed away from ugly night him repent;

closes I must go. To turned about the her head, as of lightes, must tellection makes glassy ear as his battle, more the night.

               46

—I heard head, freshening save history. Not borne, these them, war, or, made. Live it least dayly, or your quaile. Thou shall their sleeps you go. For the

Head? With shall I do we mace, their those soun’. Thus wing—at Neptune fell future depart. Remember would be to herd-abandon from hill.

               47

All there mething birds the Vision with hold touches brows sense and once from their lot want to serving-boy apprehend them, the gods love the

dead, but the terror thee praying: as the greene things to cry o, learnd a lesson new life was more than autumnal stands to find her e’e.

[kimetsunoyaibaroleplay]

Summerween Pinch Hit

This story will be a little extension to a story I am planning my Quotev, Muzan's Mistake. It contains my own OC, Tokumaru Tsugumi.

@finn-alexithymia

The night was cold and dry. She definitely enjoyed it.

The house reeked of blood and fear. Red still stained its humble walls, but the body was gone. Maybe there was more than one. But it was gone, surely devoured.

A shame for her, but she'd find food later.

What day was it? It seemed as though months had passed, but perhaps it had been years, even centuries. Her only clue was the daytime heat. It must have been summer. That was good. Each day of the summer meant less and less daylight. She could roam about longer.

The interior of the house was a mess. If anyone had ever lived here, they were in a panic as they died. Humans. They always resisted.

Her long, pointed fingers graced the walls as she pushed open the door. The feeling of death was stronger here, but it didn't matter. There were some cots, she saw, so she pulled one out to lay upon.

It was a little lumpy and scratchy, but there was no time to complain. He surely wouldn't come here. She would be safe for the time being.

Her sleep was restful, no dreams at all. It was warm, but not hot. It was the first real peace she had felt in, what, centuries? Maybe even eons? She had no clue how old she was now. All she knew was that she was alive, and so was he.

Muzan.

He surely was seeking her. She was powerful and she deserted. That wouldn't go unpunished. She couldn't even fathom as to why he hadn't remotely destroyed her.

Maybe he wanted to look her in the eye as she exploded into sizzling flesh.

As morning broke, she closed the doors and adjusted the long cloth she wore to protect her from the morning rays. Another dreary day, but at least in a comfortable home. Perhaps she could find some provisions or leftover flesh to eat. Maybe a rabbit would wander by.

The dew on the leaves was enthralling as she examined the indoor plants that crept inside from years of disregard. She cautiously touched one and brought it to her lips. Blessed water.

There was a shuffling outside.

Tokumaru Tsugumi whipped her head around and pulled her makeshift cloak tighter around herself, striking her care hand against the edge of a table, drawing blood. It instantly congealed as she peeked outside the house into the sunlight.

There was a man there.

Tsugumi bared her teeth as the blood slithered up her arm, red as rubies. It hardned into an almost paste and sharped at the end near her hand, creating a deadly bracelet. Another strip of blood flew off to create a dagger. She clutched it in her hand as the man with black hair and a robe split down the middle turned around and knelt over a mound of dirt.

Tsugumi craned her head and saw something flash. A katana blade. Was it...?

Yes. She could see the insignia. This was a Hashira. Which meant Muzan had to be close.

Frantic, her eyes darted around the withering house, looking for a sign. Something felt off now.

She carefully replaced her sleeping mat and counted how many there were total. Then she watched the Hashira until he left. Slowly, covered head to toe in a swath of fabric, she counted the graves.

There were two extra cots.

It was plausible that the family had extra sleeping mats, but two made that guess suspicious. Judging the interior of the house, the former residents were poor, which meant at least one someone survived the demon attack.

Normal demons wouldn't let fresh flesh get away. She wouldn't let fresh flesh escape herself. Which meant the lone survivor had been a demon. Or turned into one. And only one demon's blood could turn humans into demons.

Muzan. The very one she was avouding.

Tsugumi ran out of the house without a look back, not even noticing the humble coal basket lying on its side with an urgently scrawled note.

"Family dead. Two survivors, seeking shelter off the mountain.

"Signed,

"Kamado Tanjiro."

[cheriedarlings]

chuuya with corruption kink? 😵‍💫

You’re right and you should say it! I kind of got carried away.

Reader is AFAB, no pronouns are used. Slight dubcon.

        Honestly, CHUUYA could tell how inexperienced you were from the moment he met you. The way you fiddled with your fingers and were practically shaking in your boots when he talked to you easily gave it away, but he wasn’t about to complain. He starts off slow with the affection, holding your hand, kissing you on the head before he left for work, keeping an arm wrapped around your waist whenever you went out... all of your adorable, innocent reactions to anything he did made his heart pound- how could you be so damn cute?

But with you being so cute and naïve like that, it’s only natural for his mind to wander into dangerous territory, no?

Chuuya isn’t exactly known for his patience, so if you keep rejecting his kisses and touches out of shyness, he’s bound to get irritated. You’ve got him so pent up now that all he can think about is bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you until you can’t think of anything else but him and the pleasure he gives you. He’s just glad he got you before some other man did- you’re too trusting and innocent for your own good. But don’t worry! You won’t have to look out for those nasty bad guys who only want to hurt you.

That’s precisely why you really shouldn’t be so surprised when he pins you down on your shared bed one day, muttering about how you’ve made him wait for too long, that he can’t take it anymore. You’ve never done this before? You don’t know what to do? That’s fine. You don’t have to worry about a thing, just lay back and let him take care of you.

When you shy away and try to cover yourself up when he undresses you, it’s cute, but you should quit it already. You don’t want him to have to tie you up, do you? Poor thing, the look on your face when he says that is too much! You’re lucky he’s keeping his word of going slow.

God, and the way you whine and moan his name when he uses his mouth on you, drawing your first proper orgasm from your body... you do things to him, you know that? He’s thought about being the one to take your innocence from the day he met you, making your body crave his all the time.

Every touch he lays on your body elicits a shudder or jump from it and he loves it. You must be so sensitive and on edge, having been untouched and naïve to what real pleasure feels like... but it’s fine, Chuuya doesn’t mind. He can teach you this way, show you what you were missing.

The tears that slip out of your eyes when he’s finally inside of you are all-too alluring, too, as your voice pleads and whimpers that he’s too big, it hurts but he won’t stop, you should know that much. He has to get you used to it, doesn’t he? How else will this work?

He’ll quell your cries with a kiss of bruising force, slipping his tongue in your mouth to elevate the heat rising between your bodies. It doesn’t take long for the pain to fade and pleasure to take over; he knows what he’s doing, as he told you.

So when he finally feels your walls clench around him, another orgasm taking over you, he can’t resist cumming inside of you with a grunt, biting down harshly on your bottom lip as he spills over.

You can’t even bring yourself to be worried that you’ll become pregnant at that point in time, your sore, quivering body almost collapsing as Chuuya simply chuckles, stroking your cheek and laying a kiss on your glistening forehead. You did well, very well, he tells you. You’re so cute, and your post-sex face almost makes him want to take you again right now...

But there will be time for that soon, again, and again, and again.

[devildomdisaster]

Can you do the brothers reacting to S.O. MC always having an unidentifiably "familiar" scent and then finding a spray bottle with the brother's perfume in it, diluted so that it doesn't overpower MC's but still gives them a subtle trace of the brother's scent? Which brothers do you expect would take up the practice so that they always have MC's scent lingering on them?

So cute!

I think demons and angels would have a better sense of smell than humans so wearing one of the brother’s perfumes would be like Mc marking themself as the demon’s partner.

It’s not foolproof of course, after all, other demons can buy the same perfume. But between the brothers, Diavolo and Barbatos everyone wears different scents so it would be clear to all of them whos perfume you are wearing.

Lucifer:

Lucifer has been using the same cologne for several decades now. It’s honestly surprising that it hasn’t gone out of style, or become associated with old people(Like how certain human colognes or perfume is only used by your grandparents). It’s distinctive but elegant and simple enough to be timeless.

Lucifer first notices how your scent is oddly familiar a few weeks after you return to the Devildom with Solomon.

Something about your new scent is immensely gratifying to his senses.

It makes his pride flare, and he finds himself far less worried about his brothers or Diavolo trying to steal you away.

Much to his embarrassment, Lucifer finds himself nuzzling into your neck as if to scent you while trying to identify the change.

It’s early yet and you’re still curled up asleep in his bed when he finds the simple-looking perfume bottle on your desk as he is fetching you a fresh set of clothes to change into.

He stops to examine the bottle, thinking that perhaps he should bring this to you as well. Although he loathes to let you cover up his scent.

He opens the bottle to ensure it won't completely overpower his scent on you, and for a moment he thinks he must have used a bit too much of his own perfume this morning. He sniffs it again and realizes that while it is similar to his own scent, it’s different. Muddled, diluted with something, water, and perhaps a bit of your own perfume/cologne.

His lips curl into a smirk as he realizes that he’s caught his cologne thief. He’d assumed that he’d simply misplaced a bottle of his cologne but now realizes that you must have taken it back to the human realm with you and made this.

Lucifer falls in love with you all over again. He is so enamored with the idea that you want to smell like him, essentially letting other demons and angels know that you are his.

When you wake, he is sitting next to you. Still smug. Pride radiating off him in self-satisfied waves. Toying with your perfume bottle. “Mc, my dear, if you would like to let others know you are taken I would be happy to mark you more clearly.”

You swear he likes to fluster you just for his own enjoyment.

“When this is gone,” he says holding up the perfume bottle “you are welcome to more of my cologne, you needn't resort to thievery, my love.”

He won’t take up the practice himself, but if you have to be away from each other for an extended time he’ll ask for a bottle of your perfume/cologne to keep your scent fresh and near.

Mammon:

Mammon is snooping in your room again. Not to steal this time, he swears! It was just to figure out what kind of gift you’d like.

The perfume bottle looks expensive, so he picks it up. Thinking that buying you a new bottle might be a good gift.

It doesn’t have any labels so he opens it to see if he recognizes the fragrance.

He is so, so embarrassed to find out that it is a diluted version of his scent! Poor Mammon, he is so flustered when he finds out that he drops the bottle, shattering it on your bedroom floor.

Suddenly it all clicks into place for him. The reason he had been so much more protective of you. Why he had found himself resisting the urge to mark you as his more than he usually had to.

You’d been making yourself smell like him, marking yourself for him. Mammon is over the moon. You want to be his. You’re already together of course, but you want other demons to know you’re together.

It takes everything Mammon has to stop himself from going to get you right now. From bringing you to his room and marking you himself.

But he’s got a bigger problem to handle first. Your room is a mess, floor covered in glass and perfume and he’s got to fix this before you get back.

When you open your door Mammon is still trying to clean everything up and air out your room, you recognize the scent of the spilled perfume and you feel the embarrassment overwhelm you.

Mammon is looking at you, face red and stuttering out an apology. “I swear I wasn't trying to steal nothin'. I just-” He flounders gesturing to your desk “it was an accident Mc! Picked you up a new bottle of mine so you can…” if possible his face gets even redder.

“Mammon if you don’t like it I can stop.”

“What? No! Of course, you’d wanna smell like the great Mammon! Besides, I don’t want anyone else thinkin they can make a move on ya. You should keep doin it.”

Mammon won’t ask for any of your perfume/cologne but he will borrow(steal) a little of it every once in a while. Mostly when he’s going somewhere he can’t take you. It makes him feel closer to you. And it has the added benefit of preventing any demons from making a move on him, letting them know he’s taken.

Levi:

Levi can’t quite put his finger on where he’s smelled your new perfume/cologne before.

It’s familiar, but he can’t place it no matter how hard he tries.

For some reason, it makes him less jealous when his brothers are around you. Like he doesn’t have to worry about you realizing they are better than him anymore.

Levi might not notice what your new scent is but his brothers sure do.

Asmo gives you knowing little winks and you could swear you’ve seen Mammon crinkle his nose in distaste at you.

Levi doesn’t figure out why your scent is so familiar until he finds you in his room pouring some of his perfume into a different bottle.

You’re startled when Levi takes the bottle from your hand and tilts your head to the side to smell your neck.

He takes a step back from you red to the tips of his ears “M-mc you-” He gapes at you for a moment “You can’t just do that without warning me!” he whines. “You know other demons can- my brothers can- it’s like you’re telling everyone you’re mine.”

“I know, Asmo gave me the idea. He said demons use their scent to mark their significant others. I’m sorry Levi, are you mad?”

“Mad? You want to smell like me, how could I be mad when I’ve wanted to-to mark you for months? I just didn’t want to...creep you out...with all that. Y-you can still use my cologne just ask. Thought you were Mammon stealing for a second.” He says covering his blushing face with his hands.

Levi is awake for a long time that night, even after you’ve long since drifted off curled up next to him in his bathtub bed. He’s caught up in the fact that you want to smell like him and he wonders if maybe he could do the same thing with your perfume/cologne.

Eventually, he’ll ask for some of your perfume/cologne but it’ll take him several weeks to finally blurt out the question.

Satan:

Somehow your scent is different, more familiar.

It sets him at ease, like seeing you in his jacket or finding you sleeping in one of his shirts.

It clicks that you are using his scent when he notices how fast he is going through the bottle of his cologne.

His face heats up and oh my, you’re using his scent. That's why it was so familiar.

Once the surprise has passed, his lips curl up in a wicked grin.

Oh Mc, Satan is so pleased. He is so in love with you.

He has you meet him in his room to confront you. His cologne in hand, lips curled up in a smirk. “Is there something you’d like to tell me, Mc?”

You tell him about how you dilute his perfume with yours so that you smell a little like him and meekly apologize for stealing from him.

Satan’s smirk grows as you explain, and when you fall silent he pulls you into his arms. “I like having my scent on you kitten. But you know there are other ways I can leave my scent on you if you’d like?” he murmurs, kissing across your cheekbone and down your jawline.

He sounds so confident but there is proof of his own emotions in the red dusting his cheeks.

Satan might dilute some of your perfume/cologne if there is a particular reason he wants other demons to know he’s taken. Maybe an event he can’t bring you to or if there has been a particularly stubborn demon not taking no for an answer.

To be honest Satan would rather have you leave your scent naturally. By sleeping on his pillows or wearing his jacket.

If you have to go to the human realm without him for any length of time, Satan will pick up your habit and start diluting some of your chosen scent with his while you're gone.

Asmo:

It doesn’t take long for Asmo to figure out why your scent is so familiar.

He knows exactly how long a bottle of perfume will last him and has a sixth sense for knowing when someone has moved any of his beauty products.

“Mc, darling, it’s sweet that you want my mark on you but if you keep stealing from me I’ll have to punish you,” he sings.

“Is that a promise Asmo?”

He brings you your very own bottle of his cologne.

The fact that you dilute his scent with yours brings Asmo to his knees. It’s so cute! But also such a tease! He’d love to leave his scent on you in other ways too.

But first, he just wants to curl up and cuddle with you. Knowing that you want to advertise your relationship so openly makes him feel truly loved.

The feeling overwhelms Asmo and he is so, so happy that his feelings for you are returned just as strongly.

Asmo will definitely take up the practice so your scent always lingers on him as well.

Asmo is not ashamed or shy about your relationship and any demon who insinuates he should be is playing a dangerous game.

There is no hesitation in his voice when he asks for a bottle of your perfume/cologne in exchange for his.

He likes knowing his scent lingers on you and flaunts the fact that yours lingers on him.

Expect to exchange bottles of perfume on holidays.

Beel:

Beel’s nose picks up the change in your scent immediately.

It’s familiar and yet hidden beneath your own scent just enough that he can’t place it.

This is frustrating for him because he’s never had so much trouble placing a scent before.

But he likes the addition as well.

In the end, it’s Belphie who rats you out to his twin. “You know I'm sure Beel would have more fun if he got to mark you himself, Mc.”

Beel puts down the muffin he’d had halfway to his mouth to look at you, realization flashing across his face.

He smiles happily at you, light blush dusting his face.

He’ll give you your own bottle of his cologne.

But he’ll also explain how having his scent linger on you is a way that demons mark their significant others. He wants to make sure you know that you are advertising your relationship to other demons.

When you assure him you’re ok with that he’ll ask if he can do the same with some of your perfume/cologne. That way other demons know he’s yours too.

Belphie:

Belphie notices right away.

It’s obvious that the new addition to your scent is his when you’re napping in his bed with him and the new portion of your scent blends seamlessly with the blankets and pillows around you.

Belphie gets a mischievous smirk on his face as he nuzzles his face in your hair. “There are better ways for you to wear my scent, Mc.”

He doesn’t stop you from using some of his perfume to dilute and mix with your own.

In fact, he encourages the practice.

He likes the fact that other demons will know who your heart belongs to.

With his scent lingering on you it’s very unlikely that other demons(his brothers) will make a move on you.

He won’t adopt the practice himself.

Not because he doesn’t want to, but because it’s a lot of work to dilute perfume so perfectly.

But if you were to make it for him, he would wear it everywhere.

He finds your scent calming, so having it linger on him would be very nice. Why else would blankets occasionally go missing from your bed?

[tricksters-captain]

Helmut Zemo (TFATWS) imagines - Craving Part 2

AN: Right giving you all what you really wanted... 

Summary: After playing the part as Zemo's arm candy in Madripoor, Zemo tries to confront you on your unspoken connection, only to be rudely interrupted...

In this chapter: After having a dream about the man himself, you decide to seek out Zemo...

(PART 1 HERE)

Pairing(s): Zemo x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,013

Warnings: Smut, unprotected sex, receiving oral, choking, Zemo does use a couple phrases in his language and since Sokovia isn’t a real country or language I used Polish (I have seen several fic use German before however). 

You tossed and turned in bed as you tried to get comfortable. Your skin felt hot and uncomforatble to be in and your mind wouldn't stop replaying Zemo’s hands on you. The large bedroom made every movement sound louder than it was so every time you rolled and made the bed frame creak, the more you frustrated you grew. 

You hated Zemo for making you feel so confused. He was an attractive man, that was true, but he had torn the avengers apart. He had used Bucky’s past against him several times and even gotten you hurt because of it. Why did you all of a sudden have the desire to see what he tasted like... 

You figured he’d taste like mint toothpaste and whiskey or perhaps of coffee from earlier or perhaps.... What were you doing?! 

You buried your face into your pillow and groaned. 

You must’ve fallen asleep eventually because you had started dreaming. 

You were back in Madripoor. It was Sharon’s high town home and you had just changed for the party. Except you weren’t wearing what you actually wore that night. Instead, you were wearing a long silky black dress that dropped to the floor with a small trail. It had thin black straps that went over your shoulder and connected to the dress delicately; the dress was completely backless and the cool air from Sharon’s AC tickled your exposed skin. 

“You look beautiful.” Zemo’s voice filled the room. You looked up in the mirror to see Zemo standing at the door behind you. 

“It’s not too much?” You asked, flattening out the skirt with your hands. 

Zemo made his way towards you until he was right behind you. The hairs prickling up on your back revealed just how close he was standing. 

“Not at all.” Zemo brushed the tip of his finger along your shoulder, following the curve from your neck and then down your arm until he cupped your elbow gently. “You look perfect.” 

You felt your breathing stop as Zemo started to learn forward, his eyes remained locked with yours in the mirror as his lips finally met your skin. 

He kissed your shoulder lightly before opening his mouth and grazing his teeth against your flesh, biting ever so gently but with enough pressure to make the sex between your legs throb. 

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered. 

“Why not?” Zemo turned you to face him with the hand that rested on your elbow. He brought you closer to him, pressing a hand to the exposed small of your back. His strong calloused hand against you only made your legs feel weaker. 

“You know why.” You placed your hands on his chest but didn’t push him away. Yet. 

“Ahh, yes. Because of James?” Zemo tilted his head. “What would poor James do if he caught us together like this?” Zemo let his hand slide down the outside of your thigh and hook under your knee, bringing your leg up to his hip to bring you closer. 

You smirked, leaning into the man’s ear. Brushing your lips just ever so slightly against his lobe as you spoke. 

“He’d kill you.” You whispered. 

That’s when you woke up. 

You woke up covered in sweat, your chest heaving and your hair slick to your forehead. You didn’t know how long you’d been asleep for because Bucky was now asleep on the couch in the room too. 

You hoped you didn’t sleep talk anything weird during that dream but you figured that Bucky would be waiting for you to wake up to confront you if you had said Zemo's name or something similar. 

You climbed out of the bed quietly and headed towards the door. You knew you wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep after that dream and you had felt gross from waking up all sweaty so you made your way to the bathroom. 

You splashed cool water on your face and wiped your neck and chest with a damp towel before you left the bathroom again.

You looked down the hall to Zemo’s room. 

You knew which one it was for safety measures. Sam had taken the room beside his so that he could keep an eye on him but you knew Sam would probably be in the living room on his laptop at this hour to keep watch. Make sure no one is sneaking in or out of the apartment. But that also meant you could creep over to Zemo’s room without the anxiety of Sam coming out of his. 

You found yourself walking before you could stop yourself. 

You hovered outside the door for what felt like an eternity before you lightly rapped on the door. 

You opened it without hearing a response. 

Zemo was sat up on the edge of the bed, tying his robe around him as he must have had been woken by the intrusion. 

“I thought you were Sam.” Zemo rose to his feet after he realised it was you who had entered. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You apologised. 

“You didn’t. I was merely laying in the bed. I did not lie when I told you about my struggles with sleeping.” Zemo had mentioned his insomnia in the kitchen before. 

You remained in the doorway, just looking at Zemo, panicking slightly as you tried to find something to say. 

“I don’t know why I’m here.” You said lowly. 

“You don’t?” Zemo cocked his eyebrow at you but didn’t move. 

“I just...” You started, “I had this...” You failed to explain yourself.  

“Shh. Shh. Shh.” Zemo waved his hand. He slowly made his way towards you. “You don’t need to come up with excuses.” 

“I’m not.” You argued. 

“Just tell me the truth.” Zemo was now in front of you. He was close enough that you could see the slight stripe pattern on his dark pyjamas beneath his robe. You could also see slight hair poking out of the top of his shirt as the first few buttons were undone. You resisted the urge to reach out and stroke your fingers down his exposed chest, to explore what was beneath his silk pyjamas...

“I-I...” You struggled to respond. You almost felt like punching a wall at how frustrated you were at the fact that Zemo somehow managed to leave you completely speechless. 

“I often use these long nights to think.” Zemo spoke so you didn’t have to. 

“What do you think about?” You questioned. 

“A lot of things usually.” Zemo waved his hand as he spoke. “But these past couple nights I’ve found myself thinking of something more out of the ordinary.”

“And what’s that?” You asked.

“You.” Zemo cocked his head as he looked at you.

You felt a heat grow between your legs as you watched his eyes flicker to your lips for a second. 

“May I?” Zemo stepped forward, reaching his hand out to close the door behind you.

Your breath hitched in your throat as his face passed yours. Zemo slowly pulled back from the door, your faces were mere inches away from each other as he hadn't bothered to go around you to close the door but over your shoulder instead. 

Your gaze met. The thick tension around you was suffocating. 

With his right hand, he reached up and cupped your jaw, firmly underneath your ear. His thumb ran over your cheek; his touch burning against you.  

Zemo leant forward, closing the space between you, and kissed you. 

It was a sweet kiss. A first kiss. He was testing the waters. 

Just as he went to pull away, you wrapped your arms around him and pulled him back in. Your body flushed against his as a powerful urge took over you. 

Desperation. Need. A fire that grew in your stomach.

Zemo placed one hand in your hair and it’s counterpart on the small of your back. You couldn’t help but moan into his mouth as he tugged lightly at the back of your hair. 

Zemo’s mouth traveled down your jaw to your neck. His tongue sent goosebumps over your skin as he explored it. He could taste the saltiness from the result of your dream. 

“Did you get all hot and bothered for me, mały ptaszku?” He cooed as his hand moved from your hair to your shoulder. He stroked down the back of your arm until he reached your elbow. You felt your heart skip with the flashback to your dream. 

“What are we doing?” You asked breathlessly as you clung onto the man’s robe. 

“Anything you desire.” He lifted his head back to face you. 

There was a beguiling darkness in his eyes but it didn’t scare you. It only enticed you. 

Zemo took your hand and brought it to his lips. He pressed a silky kiss to your fingers all the while maintaining eye contact. The way his lips look as they curved against your fingers made your stomach tighten with want.

Zemo had noticed the blazing fire in your eyes as you watched him. He smirked, taking just one of your fingers and placing in between his teeth. He dragged it gently, grazing your finger as he pulled it down his lip; the cool night air tickled the wetness on your skin.

Zemo let go of your hand before lifting his own fingers to your lips. You let out a shaky breath as he stroked his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“So beautiful.” Zemo took a moment to admire you. Your lips were slightly plump from his kiss and your eyes were wide, glistening in the dim light. 

You reached forward and steadily untied his robe. He shrugged off the extra layer at your silent request. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Zemo’s searched your eyes for any hesitation or uncertainty but failed to find any. 

You nodded your head ever so slightly. 

“Words, kochanie.” Zemo ordered.

“Yes.” 

“Good girl.” Zemo’s mouth turned up at the corners. You felt your stomach flutter at the praise.

Zemo kissed you again. His large hands held either side of your neck as he guided you deeper into his room. 

You took one of the man’s hands and dragged it down your side, ushering it towards the inner of your legs. 

“Does my little bird want to be touched?” Zemo’s voice was low as he spoke into the kiss. 

You bit down on his lip and urged his hand closer. 

Zemo chuckled at your response. 

“Use your words.” He instructed you. 

You parted from the man when you realised just how close the bed was. You sat down and pushed yourself upwards so that Zemo would have to follow to continue kissing you. He recognised the play. 

“I told you to use your words.” Zemo tutted as he remained stood at the bottom of the bed. You felt him wrap his hand around your ankle before tugging you back down to him. 

You gasped at the sudden action, staring up at the man with lust blown eyes.

Zemo knelt down at the end of the bed. His hand moved up your ankle and began to push up your pyjama leg up. His lips pressed against your ankle, nipping and licking your skin as he worked his way up your calf. 

When he reached your thigh and could go no higher, you helped him by removing your pyjama bottoms. You suddenly felt very exposed in just a tank top and your panties. 

“Such a good girl.” Zemo smirked at your hurry to strip for him. 

Zemo held your thigh with his hand, he dragged his tongue along the inside of it, biting your skin softly but didn’t venture too close to your core. He could sense just how desperate you were for him as your legs began to slightly shake with want. But he wanted you to beg...

You reached down and buried a hand in his thick, styled hair. He only smirked and glanced up at you through his eyebrows as you tried to bring him closer to you. 

Zemo hooked his fingers around your panties and pulled them down, freeing your hot sex to him. 

Zemo sent you a dark smile just before he pressed his tongue against you. The smell of you was too much to resist, he had to taste you. You inhaled sharply as he buried himself between your legs. His tongue teased your clit as his forefinger began to circle your entrance.

“So wet for me.” Zemo murmured. 

His finger pressed inside of you and you arched your back, desperate for more. 

“It’s been a while, mały ptaszku?” Zemo was watching your every reaction as he pumped his finger in and out of you. “For me too.” He confessed. 

His tongue found your sensitive bud again and applied more pressure, causing your grip on the man’s hair to turn even tighter. Zemo groaned at your tugging. His eyes lulling back as his boxers became very tight around his member. 

You could feel your walls tensing as he entered a second finger inside you. Your stomach twisted with your approaching climax. 

“I’m gonna...” You barely managed to breathe out two words out.

“Sing for me, mały ptaszku.” Zemo commanded, his eyes glued to you as he watched you come undone around his fingers. 

Zemo retracted his hand as he allowed you a moment to recover. He wiped the slick wetness from his chin as he regained his stance. 

You leant forward and took hold of the man’s shirt, tugging him towards you. Zemo teeth scraped against your lips as he kissed you fiercely. You craved for him to be inside of you and he craved the same. Watching you cum for him only made him ache with want and need. 

“Zemo...” You used his name for the first time that night, “Please...” 

Zemo couldn’t resist your pleads. 

He tore his pyjama shirt off and stripped of his bottoms, revealing his thick member. 

You reached forward, taking hold of him to feel his impressive size. His tip dripped with precum and the groan that rumbled from his throat at your touch only made you want him more. 

Zemo placed his hands under your arms and tossed you higher up on the bed. You exhaled a shaky breath at the dominant action. He climbed on top of you, parting your legs with his knee. 

“I feel I need to remind you that it has been a very long time since I have been with a beautiful woman such as yourself so I shall try my best to hold back.” Zemo was honest as he aligned his tip to your entrance. 

He slid himself up between your folds spreading your wetness on his head, you felt your convulse at the feeling of his hard cock on your throbbing clit. 

Zemo’s jaw clenched tightly as he finally pressed himself into you, his eyes closed as he relished the feeling. 

You rocked your hips against his as he filled you completely. 

Zemo remained still a moment as he just you fully adjust before he started to move inside of you. 

His hand found your throat as he began to pick up his pace. 

Your nails dug deep into his skin as he squeezed your neck lightly. 

Zemo thrusts became deeper, harder and with every stroke, you felt that sweet spot ache inside you. 

Zemo began to murmur in Sokovian under his breath as he fucked you.

You wrapped your legs around him, your body begging him to fuck you harder. Zemo was happy to comply. 

He thrusted deep within you. Sweat was building on his forehead and his skin felt like fire against your own. 

You clawed at the hand that was wrapped around your neck. Longing for more pressure. 

Zemo eyes rolled back for a moment as he felt your walls begin to tighten around him. 

“Fuck... (Y/n)...” The sound of your name on his lips sent a wave of electricity through your body. 

Zemo released your neck to grab hold of the  headboard behind you. His knuckles turning white as he fucked you faster. 

One of your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, clinging onto him tightly and Zemo took the chance to sink his teeth into your forearm. You winced at the delicious pain and bit down on your lip to stop yourself from cursing. 

As your second climax suddenly engulfed you, your legs tensed around the baron. The feeling of you pulsing around him was enough to bring forward his own finish. He cursed in his native tongue as he filled you with his seed. 

Zemo dropped his hand from the headboard as he tried to support his weight above you. 

His hot breath danced across your face as he panted above you. 

Zemo removed himself from you and fell beside you. 

You brought your arm up and ran your fingers over the indented teeth marks in your skin. 

“You could’ve done that somewhere less visible.” You scolded the man. 

Zemo weakly smiled at you as he tried to recover. 

“I apologise.” He said through his heavy breathes. 

You reached over the side of the bed and scooped up the baron’s silk pyjama shirt. You wrapped it around you as Zemo watched you with curiosity. 

You slid off the bed and went over to the decanter by the couch in Zemo's room. You poured yourself a glass of scotch and a glass for Zemo before returning to his side. 

“This never happened.” You held out the glass to the man. He took it carefully before clinking the glass against your own. 

“What the soldiers don’t know won’t hurt them.” Zemo was referring to Sam and Bucky. “Doesn’t mean it can’t happen again, no?”

“What they don’t know won’t hurt them.” You straddled the man, downing your drink. 

Zemo placed his hands on your thighs, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. 

“What does mały ptaszku mean?” You suddenly recalled the name Zemo had kept calling you now that your mind wasn’t clouded from lust. 

“Little bird.” Zemo smirked. 

AN: Hoped you enjoyed ;)

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