#wrote something much darker for a change

[qingxin-dream]

“Just One Good Thing”

summary | it’s hard to love someone who is broken, and even harder when two broken people love so deeply it hurts. (art credits: @/pastahands on twitter).

warnings | not proofread/vent writing, scaramouche lore spoilers, brief graphic depiction of death, illness, loss, profanity, TW heavy mental health topics, self-hatred, dissociation, depression, suicidal thoughts/ideation, graphic description of self-harm wounds, fear of abandonment, guilt, reader is hospitalized

genre | angst, hurt, comfort

word count | 2.5k

pairing | wanderer x reader

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

This was not the first time the puppet experienced betrayal.

How could you have known? It was long before you came into existence, hundreds of years of anguish buried in layers upon layers beneath his artificial constitution. He had once been but an innocent, naive babe with the world sparkling in the reflection of his violet eyes, meant for something greater. He had once fulfilled a purpose.

To be brought into the world against your will, crafted from the divine hand of a grieving Archon, only to have every semblance of your being ripped from you and cast aside in the name of so-called mercy—is a fate akin to death itself.

You never knew his past.

How he was once an eccentric named Kabukimono who wandered from Shakkei Pavilion and made friends with the blade smiths of Tatarasuna. His first taste of human life was amid a blazing furnace and the clamoring of a hammer onto hot metal, learning what it meant to labor and create. He had grown to love the little village as his own, playing with the children and sipping on the bitter taste of tea leaves with his comrades.

The puppet who had called himself Kabukimono was painfully ignorant to the cruelty of fate.

He could have never fathomed the day he would hold the future of his village in his trembling, pale hands as the toxic Tatarigami fumes envelope him in chemicals. There he climbed deep inside the Mikage Furnace, the unique resilience of his artificial body left unharmed by the inhospitable temperatures glowing hot against his divine skin. Any normal human would’ve perished a thousand times over.

Inside the foreign device that promised to save his home lay the bloody, withering heart cut fresh from his closest companion’s chest.

“You are a human, Kabukimono,” Niwa had insisted with a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth, a comforting hand resting on the eccentric’s shoulder. “You just don’t have a heart.”

Yet there the puppet stood, his voice robbed from his aching throat, cradling the very essence of his friend’s humanity in his palm.

It was his fault. What a foolish creature he was to ever involve himself with humans, whom he could only bring suffering. His tears were evaporated instantly as the grotesque realization dawned on the distraught young Kabukimono. He would later discover that he had been betrayed by a man who introduced himself as Escher but was known among the Fatui as The Doctor.

The dirty pads of his bare feet had thumped through the rocky village path and down the dirt roads leading to the outskirts of the rural Inazuman wilderness. Crows rustled in the trees and flapped their feathers into the sky, jeering at the desolate and abandoned settlement.

The village should have been evacuated. All who could have been saved were rushed as far away as possible from the poisonous Tatarigami. Rows upon rows of homes and businesses were eerily vacant. Kabukimono, in his watery hysterics, had not paid any mind to his surroundings, leaving behind the only home he ever had for good.

That is, until he stumbled across a young boy who lived under an old sakura tree. Kabukimono immediately felt the void in his chest wrench with visceral guilt upon learning that the child’s parents were crafts-people. The house was utterly empty except for the lonely little boy.

For as much as the puppet wanted nothing more than to rid himself of human companionship, he felt responsible for the loss of the boy’s parents. He had an obligation to see that he was taken care of and safe from the Tatarigami. If he could not have saved his friends, perhaps he could atone for his sins in raising the orphaned child—who reminded him too much of himself.

“Promise me,” Kabukimono spoke up with a bit of a hoarse tone, his voice cracking with emotion, extending a shaky hand to the young boy. “That we can be family. I will watch over you.”

“Like a big brother?” asked the innocent boy with a hopeful smile. He wouldn’t have to be alone anymore, taking the eccentric’s hand in his own. “I’ve always wanted one… I promise, we will be family.”

For a short while, the puppet had learned to push the turmoil plaguing his conscience to the back of his mind. His focus had shifted entirely to ensuring the boy’s safety and happiness, trying to scavenge food for him and exchanging stories under the moonlight. Although, Kabukimono flinched with each cough from the boy that shattered the silence between them as they went to sleep.

He hated that he recognized the symptoms. The residue of the Tatarigami had somehow infected the child, no doubt. A dreadful thought occurred to him—perhaps he had given the sickness to the orphaned child after what happened at the Mikage Furnace. The idea was enough to eat him alive with worry. Kabukimono had secretly prayed that the boy would endure the illness.

The puppet had worked tirelessly to give him the best he possibly could. If his coughs were dry, he would fetch him water. If his stomach rumbled, he would prepare some Lavender Melons. If he needed a friend, Kabukimono would be there to hold his hand as he slept like a guardian angel.

The day the elderly sakura tree shed its pretty pink blossoms was the day the boy was found unresponsive.

Kabukimono, too, found himself hollow and devoid. What did it mean to be family? What did it mean to love? What was the point of having such worthless emotions?

A blazing inferno consumed the darkness of the night sky. Crackling embers swirled and smoke bellowed in the rural countryside as a rickety house succumbed to a hellish fate. No one was there to witness the flaming spectacle. No one to help, or save the vacant violet eyes of a nameless puppet who clutched a small doll in his lap.

It was laughable, truly, how sick and twisted the world could be. The puppet couldn’t fulfill his creator’s wishes, nor could he befriend humanity, or have a heart of his own. Oh, to perish in a fiery death would be far too simple for Celestia’s liking, wouldn’t it?

For five hundred years, Kabukimono, Kunikuzushi, Scaramouche—no matter who he became—the feeling of inadequacy remained.

His divinely-created body was an immortal prison, shackling him to his sins. As a Fatui Harbinger, no needle, blade, or poison of the Doctor could kill him. No enemy or magic of the Abyss could ultimately break him. The puppet was built to withstand the likes of the Cataclysm that had taken his creator’s sister, yet the scars of these experiments litter his fair skin are a reminder that he is indeed alive.

Wanderer vividly remembers his dark fascination with testing his limits in the depths of his dissociation. Anything to serve as penance for the irreversible destruction he had inflicted upon his friends, his family, and his home. If he was lucky, perhaps the Doctor would find a way to end his misery or the maddening darkness of the Abyss would swallow him whole once and for all.

Even forsaking his autonomy and identity as Scaramouche to ascend to godhood would be a fitting death for the puppet. After all, the Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom would never bow to his emotions like a weakling. Losing himself to infinite knowledge and truth would be a good ending, despite the insanity that would befall him.

All that mattered is he would cease to exist.

But it was you who defeated him, in all his might and glory as a fake Archon pumped full of divine wisdom and the sludgy remains of dead gods. It was you who found him after he tried to erase every part of his worthless being from Irminsul, and helped him pick up the pieces of himself in the aftermath.

The reality that lies within Irminsul had given him a new perspective as the Wanderer. Though he retained the poignant memories of his sins, Wanderer made sure to carve a special space in the void of his artificial body just for you. His savior.

Not a single one of those instances—absolutely fucking none of them—could ever compare to the morbid and desperate pit of despair that ravages Wanderer at the sight of your fragile body curled up in a white hospital gown. You are hooked up to a myriad of monitors and machines, wires and tubes tangling your frame like chains. The distant beep of the electrocardiogram is burned into Wanderer’s mind.

It’s your heartbeat, and the very reason for his continued existence. You had been reduced to small blip on a computer screen.

The hospital room was otherwise silent. The windows had the blinds slightly drawn, a cool ray of moonlight washing over Wanderer’s disheveled indigo hair from behind. Even if you were unconscious, Wanderer had wanted to tuck you in for the night, but he was terrified of hurting you. The fluorescent white light above your bed was off, bathing you both in warm darkness.

In the late hours, all Wanderer could do was stare at you with eyes reddened from crying, his crimson eyeliner smudged at the edge of lashes. He would occasionally lick his dry lips, which were chapped and peeling. The sting of the dead skin on his lips being tugged between his teeth was a momentary release from the overwhelming anxiety dwelling within.

His thin fingers are intertwined with yours on the hospital bed, one of the few ways the puppet can keep himself grounded in this moment. Every once in awhile, he’ll give your hand a gentle squeeze followed by a few broken wishes for you to open your eyes again. To see the life in you and hear your sweet voice again.

Sometimes it would get to be too much. Wanderer would raise your hand and kiss your knuckles with hot, salty tears pricking at his eyes. The stinging sensation would force his eyelids closed, sorrow streaming down his stained cheeks. He was sure that this was a result of his own shortcomings.

Your arms are wrapped in bandages with a few stitches here and there lying underneath. A deathly pale color flushed your beautiful face. And oh, Archons, those eyes of yours he had always adored endlessly were sunken darkly into your face, hidden in your slumber. His gaze drifted to your lips, still full and pink, perhaps his last vestige of hope as they parted for your sacred breaths.

To imagine you’re suffering as much as he had in his past is utterly unthinkable to Wanderer.

The only difference is your fragile mortality. He knows your pain now, he can see it carved onto your wrists in what must have been a frenzied meltdown.

Some cuts are lighter and faded, meaning this certainly isn’t the first time you hurt yourself. Other gashes in your arm are deeper and swollen, each one weighs on the puppet’s heart greater than the last. He couldn’t count how many times you must have taken that razor to your wrist. Wanderer silently curses himself for letting this happen to you.

“How stupid could I be? Letting her away from me,” he quietly lamented with his head in hands, fingers curling around his indigo locks tightly. “I had just one good thing.”

Rocking himself gently in the chair next to you, Wanderer continuously tugs at his hair to an almost extreme degree, unable to handle the anger, betrayal, and sadness overcoming him. He was practically attached to you at the hip, he should’ve noticed when your voice faltered or when your eyes betrayed your words. He should’ve seen the signs of you slipping through his fingers.

Even if every day wasn’t perfect, even if sometimes you both said hurtful things to each other, neither of you never truly meant it. Wanderer couldn’t bear to imagine not waking up next to you, the morning sunlight kissing your silhouette like an angel. He never thought that he’d find his purpose in you, in the most mundane moments that he cherished so deeply.

He knew you had a history of mental health struggles. So did he. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to give you his everything—fingers entwined and sweat glistening on your bodies as he made you his for the umpteenth time.

The echo of the puppet’s soft sobs dissipates into the emptiness of the hospital room. His whole body is shaking with emotional agony. It’s the first time in centuries that he has allowed himself to feel vulnerable like this. How could he not when the love of his life—the meaning of his existence—had tried to take themselves out of it?

Wanderer finally releases his hair, taking your left hand again and passionately pressing his lips to your bare ring finger as an unspoken promise. You both had worked so hard to love better and be better. He wasn’t about to give you up.

There would never be another you in eternity.

He couldn’t bear the heavy burden on his heart anymore. Carefully, he pulled the thin blanket back and climbed into the hospital bed next to you. His fingers trembled at the contact, feeling your faint warmth. Wanderer gently pulled you close so that your head was safely tucked into his chest and he could rest his chin on your soft hair. He sighed, covering you both in the blanket once more.

Sobs tugged at his chest and his grip on you momentarily tightened. Though tears glistened at the corner of his broken violet eyes, Wanderer blinked them back with a shaky breath. You were in his arms and his world was made whole again.

“I love you, (Y/N),” his voice is gravely and barely audible. “I love you so fucking much… don’t you dare think otherwise.”

The puppet nuzzles his nose into your scalp, breathing in your familiarity like it’s home. He begins to play with your hair gently, combing and caressing your soft strands with his fingertips painted in black.

“You scared the shit out of me, you know…” Wanderer kisses your hair, closing his eyelids for a long moment to memorialize the feeling of your skin on his lips. “But I’m gonna get you out of here, baby. I’m gonna get you help, okay?”

His toned arms keep your body pressed to his, wanting to feel every part of your being entangled with him as it should be. The tickling sensation of your little breaths on his neck brought a small smile to his face because it meant you were sleeping comfortably and most importantly, alive. You were the missing piece in his puzzle, fitting perfectly into place with him.

“It’ll be okay. Everything will be okay,” the puppet whispers to you, hoping you could hear and feel his love in every way, shape, and form possible. His words also served as an assurance to himself because in this moment he felt so helpless, seeing the wounds on your precious skin.

“I won’t let anything hurt you anymore,” Wanderer solemnly vows, his voice slowly but surely trailing off as he succumbs to his exhaustion with you held close to his heart.

“Goodnight, my love.”

thanks for reading! reblogs are appreciated! my masterlist.

[satoruhour]

AFTER MISSION HOURS

a/n: mb guys, i cant escape the soft dom allegations i just love it too much. but gojo is a little rougher in this. wrote this as a result of the latest jjk ep and uuuhhhhhmmmm imma need him to be angry more CAAUUUUSEEEEE .....

warnings: sorta rough dom!gojo, fem!reader, face-fucking, deep-throating, oral (m receiving), multiple rounds, unprotected sex, spitting on your pussy, praise, degradation, use of ‘slut’ and ‘whore’, creampie / breeding kink, aftercare and cute gojo at the end, n*sfw under the cut

“s— satoru?” you’re taken aback when he stalks through the door, almost making a dent in the wall from how hard he slams it open and the darkness of the front door light does his eyes justice in showing just how bright they are. albeit a little less blue and swirling with something darker and you’re taken aback when he finally walks up to you and seizes your wrist.

“’toru— you should go see shoko—!” you’re surprised when he whirls you around and nods his head towards the big sofa wordlessly and while you’re not a stranger to gojo’s outbursts when you’re arguing about how he needs to value his life more or when he’s uptight from a stressful meeting with the higher-ups, but never like this. frankly, you’ve never even had to courage to tell him all the times he’s stared at you with hooded eyes and a frown etched onto his face, you had to hold yourself back from jumping him.

but now he’s taking matters into his own hands.

you yelp in shock as he pushes you onto your hands and knees and you look back at how he kneels in front of your slowly soaking underwear. gojo plants his hands on your ass and kneads, bringing his nose right up to your pussy lips and licks a stripe over the fabric.

“so wet jus’ from that? fuckin’ slut,” he whispers just loud enough for you to hear and you’re ashamed to admit that you like it a little too much when you let out a small whine unknowingly. “oh? like it when i call you a little slut?”

he makes sure to spit out the last part and his anger and stress lowers a little just seeing how you wiggle your butt closer to him and a smile spreads on your face. there’s a little twinkle in your eye when you see the way your boyfriend’s hands make their way down to his pants but he stops short, larger hands wrapping around your waist to flip you over. thank god the couch was big, and he inches his way up your body.

“c’mon. take my cock out,” he’s staring at you from above, a sight you weren’t used to, rather more accustomed to having him below you but this new change sends chills right down to your core. you tug at his pants impatiently and satoru watches with a close eye how you scramble to pull down his underwear and the way your lips part slightly. gojo hums softly when you start stroking it to full hardness and the awe on your face is just so adorable.

“suck.” you didn��t need to be told twice, bringing his angry weeping tip right to your mouth to suckle the pre-cum out of it and your eyes flick up just as he smirks. your mouth’s so full of him, moaning around his length as you bob your head in the uncomfortable position. “all ya good for, huh? made just f’r suckin’ me off.”

this gojo was miles off from your loving boyfriend but you loved it all the same, nodding and hollowing your cheeks and using your hands for the places you can’t reach. your mouth and hands were no comparison to your tight cunt but they’re second best, so warm and pliant. you stare up at him before coming off and drool drips down the side of your mouth.

“fuck my mouth, satoru,” your pleading eyes are too much for him, both hands still stroking him non-stop as you mix in your saliva with his pre-cum, lewd noises filling the hall. “please?”

gojo simply laughs, a laugh that definitely says i should do this more, “sure, baby.”

and while his stress is immediately gone from seeing you beg, he’s not any more gentle as he lines his cock along your lips and holds onto the arm rests of the couch and fucks your face. the first thrust into your mouth, he moans out loud before his hips move quicker and quicker and you have hardly any time to adjust. your fingers squeeze his thighs with each ram into you, tip kissing the back of your throat you swear you can feel him in your stomach. you’ve learned to hold your breath even when your nose meets with his untrimmed pubes, eyes never breaking contact as he slams into you.

“mouth s’good— s-shit . .” gojo chuckles breathlessly when he hears you gurgle on his fat cock, feeling your tongue massage the base of his dick. the obscene gawking noises only gets louder when he pushes himself right to the limit, obsessed with how your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can make little noises around him. he gives a little quick glance to see your playing with yourself and he swears under his breath, pulling his hips back and letting you breathe. “filthy girl. jus’ need me so bad.”

“y—yeah satoru. wanna take your mind off . . work,” you mumble, eyes focused on how his cock twitches and leaks pre-cum from his tip and you just wanna make him feel so good — you’re not even that big on the whole housewife thing, but the way gojo treats you? you’d be on your knees all day if you could, taking his warm cum down your throat. 

“yeah? cute lil thing you are.” he taunts, bending his body so he could be inches from your face even as you continue pumping him and he’s trying not to lose composure. his eyes bore holes into your face from how hard he stares at you, breath shaky as your hands move under his jujutsu uniform and all over his upper body.

“use me.” it comes so abruptly even you are surprised, knowing how you liked to be more passive in your sex life and still, this is your first step out of your meekness. “take it all out on me, satoru.”

gojo’s chest heaves and he silently pulls away to face your cunt, removing your panties and he really wants to give you everything slowly like he likes it. he wants to see you cry as he rocks into you with gradual grinds but when you tell him something as dirty as that — he’s doing anything but that.

“haah . .” satoru sighs at your clenching pussy, dragging his tip up and down, up and down your folds and just seeing your juices just flow and flow and he’s hypnotised, “careful what you wish for, darling girl.”

you barely have time to register his warning before he slams into you and you’re screaming. it’s easy from how wet you are and it takes a small while as you adjust to his thrusts and gojo uses your body like a ragdoll. he hovers over you as your legs are limp and unsure of where they should go. this little dilemma isn’t lost on satoru, grabbing your ankles and holding them as his hips move relentlessly and this has your hips lifting off the sofa; he easily reaches your g-spot like this.

“satoru— fucking g-god! satoruuu . . !” you moan at the roughness of his ministrations, thinking you were free from the assault when he lets your ankles rest on his shoulders but all he does is spit on your pussy. a perfect shot and he rubs it in with his thumb and it has you whining out loud at the sudden stimulation, “t-too much!”

“you can take it.” gojo simply mumbles, thumb drawing timed circles on your clit as he watches his cock disappear into you. “can do it when you’re clenchin’ around me this hard.”

gojo grins, sickly.

“ah! my pretty little slut did it again.” the names were an exact opposite from the softer praise you were used to, and still they have you biting your lips and giggling in between moans, letting him fuck you like the cocksleeve you are.

“breed me, ’toru. need it—!”

“that right?” gojo slams into you at the speed of an animal, clearly still high-strung from the mission and notices how you still are making sure he cums first. the thought makes his hips stutter paired with seeing your doe eyes as little pants leave your mouth and he needs to pull away from your clit to hold onto your thighs before he cums and cums and cums. your back arches at the feeling and a soft moan is heard from your lips at how it starts to fill you up.

gojo wastes no time to pull out and see his cum spill out of you before he’s doing a circular motion with his finger and you’re lying on your stomach like a good girl. you melt when you feel him scoop it all up, pushing the escaping cum right back into you and your head sinks into the cushions while your ass only pushes more into him.

“hol’ on, baby, got another load for ya,” this thrust is wet. you can basically hear his cum struggle to stay in you to the point where his cock is coated in a thin layer of white and you can only moan out for him from below. he shuts you up but pressing you deeper into the sofa, a harsh hand on your lower back and your ass sticks out more.

“thaaat’s it . .” gojo smirks, licking his lips as he watches your ass ripple from the contact. each drag of his cock into your warm, cute pussy, his eyes are there, and each spurt of your arousal and his cum as his pelvis meets yours, he’s searing it into his brain, “this what you mean by using you?”

you’re murmuring “yeah”’s into the sofa, knees and arms suffering from fabric burn from how much your body was moving, and yet his throbbing cock is just too good. your mouth falls open when satoru reaches around to rub at your clit again and your hands fly to hold onto his wrists, “oh— right there, ’toru . .!”

it’s all too much for you, the previous load of cum spilling onto the couch below you, the filthy sounds of slapping skin and the sloppiness of your pussy that it’s even having gojo moving aimlessly into you, rather just rutting in you messily.

“g’na cum again— f-fuck,” gojo swears as his fingers on your clit are more frantic to try to match his pace while he props a leg up onto the sofa and you thrash against his hold because his tip brushes against your cervix so good that you’re convulsing in the next second, whining and mewling as you cum all over his cock.

he can feel your cum and the sorcerer moans, switching to short, impatient thrusts into your tight cunt and his grunts merges with calls of your name, eyes scrunched up as he shoots his second orgasm into you. you try to grab at something as there’s the familiar feeling of his tip releasing ribbons of cum deep into your womb, but you come up short, settling rather to dig your nails into fabric.

“take my load like the cock drunk whore you are,” gojo grunts out lowly, grinding his hips into you just to get his last drops of cum into you and he has the audacity to massage at your lower back while your body’s still reeling from the intense high and yes, his anger is quelled a little but each time you’re with gojo satoru there’s always surprise ambushing you from every corner.

you gasp when he pulls you up and pulls you against his chest, moving his hips in an experimental thrust right into you and you’re sagging over his strong arms that hold you up, whining incoherently as you struggle to stay awake.

“alright, alright,” satoru laughs softly, pressing a peck to your cheek, “needa thank my baby for letting me use her.”

you barely manage a smile, turning back to him with a raise of your eyebrow, “can still go . . ’toru . .”

he hums, and pulls you off of him slowly, dick jumping just a little when he hears a choked moan leave you at the feeling of his cum dripping from your cunt but he steels himself, “hm, don’t think so, princess.”

you pout, immediately turning around to hug him close to you and gojo’s heart flutters at your cuteness. he sighs at your adamant stance, easily standing up with you wrapped around him and carrying the two of you to the master bathroom.

“let’s clean up and we’ll see if you’re awake enough to go again, alright?” satoru whispers to you before turning on the shower, and later when he’s stuck in the toilet tidying up his pubes (he saw how uncomfortable you were earlier) and he’s letting you take the bed first, there’s a perplexity and small fear that overcomes the male at the lack of answer when he calls out to you.

but gojo comes out to you slipping in and out of consciousness with only his shirt whilst hugging his pillow and he smiles to himself, getting dressed as quickly as possible and slipping in beside you. a soft smile is still plastered on his face when you naturally curl into his warmth and mumble out a soft i still had stamina, satoru.

“shh, go to sleep, baby,” satoru tugs you closer into him and he wonders if there’s any way to love you even more than he already does, “we have all the time in the world, silly girl.”

shibuya incident? tf is that?? never happened bitch

[shaiyasstuff]

I want to request a proposal scenario with either Sylus, Zayne, or both, whichever you prefer. One where he proposed to by his s/o logically pointing out the benefits of marriage… and then adding the emotional reason of "and because I love you and I could love you for the rest of my life" at the end.

Thank you for the request!!

I think it’s cause of the typos so I didn’t quite understand but I tried to deliver hehe. I wrote two short scenarios (let me know if you wanted something different) for sylus and zayne, reacting to S/O saying “because I love you and I could love you for the rest of my life.”

Zayne

He’s at the kitchen table, sleeves pushed to his elbows, one hand resting around a mug he hasn’t touched in a while.

The tea’s gone cold. Light spills through the window in soft gold, casting long shadows across the floor.

He doesn’t look up when you enter. Not right away.

You step closer, steady. Calm.

“Zayne.”

His gaze lifts at the sound of your voice. Quiet. Focused.

“We already live together,” you say, voice even. “We split expenses. You do the grocery runs because I always forget something. I keep the plants alive because you’d drown them otherwise.”

That earns you a faint flicker of a smile—barely there, but you catch it.

“It works. We work.”

He doesn’t interrupt. Just listens. Like he always does.

“I’ve been thinking,” you go on, fingers lacing together.

“Marriage wouldn’t change the way we live. Not really. We already support each other. Emotionally, practically. It makes sense.”

You draw a breath.

“And… because I love you. And I could love you for the rest of my life.”

The silence that follows is a quiet kind of full. Zayne stands—unhurried, composed.

He crosses to you, his presence grounding.

His hands come up to your face, slow and deliberate, thumbs brushing your cheek with that gentleness only he has.

His eyes don’t waver.

“…Then let me spend the rest of my life with you.”

No theatrics. No hesitation. Just truth, in the way he always gives it.

—•

Sylus

He’s hunched over his desk, sleeves rolled up, hands stained with oil and something darker.

Whatever he’s fixing is a tangle of wires and glinting metal, chaos disguised as control. Mephisto sits nearby, head tilted, unnervingly still.

You clear your throat but he doesn’t so much as glance at you.

“I’ve been thinking,” you say lightly. “Marriage could be…strategic.”

He hums without turning, a sound that’s almost a threat. “Mm. And here I thought you weren’t into theatrics.”

“You’re still the most wanted man in Philosian history. A legal bond with me could grant you conditional immunity. In certain jurisdictions.”

That gets a reaction. He chuckles—dry, amused, dangerous. “Are you bribing me with bureaucracy, darling?”

You step closer. “That… and the fact that I already know your blood type, your caffeine threshold, and the exact tone of voice to use when you’re seconds from blowing up a Council member.”

Another pause.

The sound of a wire sparking, a tool clattering against the desk.

“We’ve survived black holes,” you go on. “Ambushes. Your temper. Our odds are ridiculous, but we keep making it out.”

Slowly, deliberately, he turns. One brow raised. Half a smile, sharp enough to cut.

“Now that,” he says, “is the closest thing to a love letter I’ve ever received.”

You don’t smile. Not yet.

“Also,” you say, voice lower now, “I love you. And I could love you for the rest of my life.”

The grin fades like smoke.

For a second, he just stares. As if he’s scanning for traps.

Then he’s moving—faster than he should be able to.

One moment you’re talking, the next his hands are on your waist and his eyes are locked on yours like you’re a promise he never thought he’d get to keep.

“Careful,” he murmurs, voice rough. “You keep talking like that and I might actually believe you.”

You don’t flinch. “Believe it.”

His gaze drops to your lips, then back up. Dangerous. Reverent.

“You want to marry me,” he repeats, more like a statement than a question.

You nod.

A beat. A breath.

Then, quietly—

“Then I dare you.”

He kisses you like it’s a deal sealed in blood and fire.

Like you just offered him the one thing he’s never been able to take: a future.

“Let’s burn the stars down, darling,” he whispers.

“Together.”

[luludeluluramblings]

Platonic!Yandere!BatFamily x Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Romantic!Yandere!Roy Harper - AU

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I had this in the works and have been hesitant to post it. I hope I wrote Roy and Lian right! After Conner won the poll I know some people wanted Roy stuff. Also, I'm very inexperienced in writing Romance, despite my love for it. So comments are appreciated.

Warnings: Slight NSFW, mild yandere themes, Fem!Reader, Pregnancy

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It's not uncommon to find yourself tossing and turning at all the odd hours of the night as your pregnancy progresses. Be it from the hormone driven nightmares or the restlessness your feel from your approaching due date. The bed filled with all sorts of maternity pillows to help you rest. Roy had been a surprising addition to your bed as well. At first, it was because he had snuck into your room after moving into the manor right under Bruce's nose. Or, maybe he moved in without care of what Bruce thought.

Either way, more often then not, you feel asleep to him rubbing your back and helping ease your aches. So, you weren't going to complain. The fact that he was the father of this child in your womb also helped his case with you. But, not so much as the rest of the family.

Still, it was something else entirely this night that kept your awake.

“Hey, you’re moving around a lot. Everything alright?" Roy whispers over your shoulder, moving one of the obnoxiously sized pillows that Stephanie bought you out of the way as he pressed himself against your back. The hour was late or early, judging by how long the sun had been gone.

“Yeah, baby just has the hiccups. Go back to bed." You sigh tiredly, feeling the odd sensation happening inside of you.

“Oh, okay…" He murmurs into your ear before burying himself into your hair. After taking a deep breath of you and closing his eyes, they fly back open and his hand moves to your bump. “Wait, the baby has what? How? He’s not even out yet?

As Roy's warm and calloused hand moves across your skin he can feel the faint rhythmic movement underneath his palm.

“He just does. I can feel them in my damn pelvis. I can’t even hold my breath to get rid of them cause it him that has them." Comes your grumbled complaint, feel a particularly sharp kick from your ribs before the steady hiccups continue. Normally, you'd laugh at the sensation, but it was difficult to relax at the moment.

“That is so cool and so freaky… I wonder if Lian did the same thing?" Roy ponders out loud, distracting you from his exhaustion and making concern fill you.

“You weren’t there when Lian was in utero?" You shift to roll over and face him as you whisper. It takes a bit of huffing, but he wraps his arms around you like you belong as soon as your chest faces his.

“No, I didn’t even know about Lian until she was a year old. I missed… everything." More than a hint of longing in his voice as he spoke.

“I don’t know how much she weighed. If she had had health problems. I didn’t see her first steps, her first word. Hell, I hardly had to change any diapers because she was half way out of them before she was two." Roy had never really thought of kids before Lian. Too many issues, but, now that he had her, he was upset to have even missed a single moment of it. Already he found his thoughts drifting to slightly darker places as his grip tightens around you.

“I wouldn’t complain about that, 'cause Imma be making you change the first couple diapers when he gets here." You playfully whisper back to him, wanting to draw him way from such dark places after he's brought so much light to your life. Not just with your shared child, but with just his and Lian's presence.

“You know what, I won’t complain about that. I’ll do it." He grins into your hair, fingers dancing across your skin.

“I bet Lian will be better at it then you." Your own fingers poking him softly in retaliation for the goosebumps peppering your skin from the gentle caress.

“Hey! Low blow." Roy says without any heat in his voice. There is, however, heat in his eyes as his voice goes from good-natured to one that has nothing less than nefarious intentions. "You know, if you're having a hard time sleeping, I'm all for tiring you out."

"Oh, really?" The idea not exactly making you balk. Not with how he's fondling you like somethings worth worshiping.

"Really really." His lips grazing your skin as he moves them from the top of your head and trails them along your jaw. His hands roaming across your skin with the intention of feeling you and not just the life you both created.

"Roy, what about Lian? She's been having an awful amount of nightmares since moving into the manor." Pausing as the thought occurs to you. The poor child seemed to be sleeping between you both every other night. You didn't complain to much. You knew how empty the halls of the manor felt and for Lian it was probably startling.

Besides, you appreciated how sweet the girl was. How she already accepted you and talked excitedly about her future younger brother.

(And, how each word she spoke of the matter around your own family made them physically cringe with the weight of the guilt they carried.)

Your words do nothing to deter Roy, though. The kisses across your skin growing bolder and with more teeth as hands slide underneath the fabric of your lose pajamas.

"It'll be okay, just let me-"

"Daddy?" Comes a soft voice from the small figure in your door way.

"Damn it…" Neither one of you heard the door open, and you had to fight the urge to whine and say 'I told you so' as Roy's hand left you and he sat up.

"Can I sleep with you guys? I had another nightmare." The explanation causing you to smile softly. As stated, you couldn’t blame her.

"Sure, sweetpea. Come on." You call to her while Roy seems to pout a bit. Neither one of you had been intimate with the other since he had moved into the manor. Mostly due to interruptions such as this.

Still, you weren't upset. In fact, you fell asleep quite quickly as Lian settled between you both. The hiccups inside you having subsided as your lay back down and let exhaustion take over with a faint smile on your lips.

Silence reigns over your room for a few minute before Roy's voice rings out in a low, almost annoyed whisper.

"How much did you get out of them this time, baby girl?"

"$200, and everyone has to take me to the toy store tomorrow." Lian whispers back to him with a mischief filled grin. She hasn't had a single nightmare since moving into the manor. Not with all the cash she's been getting. She may be five, but she knew money got you candy and toys, and she was getting a lot of it just from sleeping between her parents.

"Everyone, huh?" Roy mutters, an idea filling his head. He knew what Jason and the other's were up to. Every time he was about to have his way with you, Lian needed him or would want to spend time with you. He wasn't too mad. Lian was spoiled nicely, but his balls were starting to turn blue.

However, luck might finally be on his side.

"Think you'll be okay without me and your new Momma tomorrow?"

"Yeah, I wanna get my new brother stuff with all the money Uncle Tim and Uncle Jason keep giving me and surprise Momma with it." She whispers excited up to her daddy while curling up close to her new Momma.

"That's a great idea, sweetheart. A great idea." And, it was.

No one would be in the manor to stop him from fucking you on the living room couch in front of one of the security cameras. Plus, he'd really like to have that footage saved anyway. He had all sorts of plans for tiring you out tomorrow while everyone was gone.

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A/N: 🫣 I tried! Someone sent me an ask about a blurb like this for Conner, and I wanted to finish this first.

A/N: Also, I am very much debating on writing an entirely different Pregnant!Reader AU with just strictly the Bat Boys. Yes, I know it’s not everyone’s thing, but I want to embrace the drama of it. I’d do a whole different poll any everything with it because I have more planned for that than I do right for Pregnant!Reader right now. Kinda winging it there! I should finish what I got now though.

[maxpounds]

OnlyFat

Nigel looked at himself in the mirror, as he did every morning, admiring his toned and sculpted body, the result of years of dieting and hard work at the gym. At 28 years old, he felt at the peak of his physical form. Firm muscles, broad shoulders, and a defined abdomen, along with his handsome face and sizable cock, had earned him a considerable number of followers on OnlyFans. While he wasn’t a millionaire, earning an average of about two thousand dollars a month allowed him certain luxuries and a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He enjoyed his routine. He filmed private videos, always eager to please, and responded to the strangest and most specific requests from his fans. No matter what they asked of him, he always found a way to enjoy it; perhaps due to his naturally submissive nature, something he had discovered long ago and now used to his advantage.

That Tuesday, as he checked the messages in his account, he came across a proposal that made him pause. It was from someone named Dom43, who had written to him several times before, though never with such a direct request. The message read:

“I’ll give you a thousand dollars if you gain ten pounds of fat in a month and send me a video of the results. No tricks. I want to see how you change. What do you say?”

Nigel raised an eyebrow and reread the offer over and over. It wasn’t the typical request he was used to. At first, it seemed strange, almost absurd. But the money—a thousand dollars!—was a considerable temptation. Plus, a part of him, the part that had always enjoyed obeying and submitting to others’ desires, felt a twinge of excitement at the idea. After a few minutes of thought, he shrugged and let himself go with his gut.

“I accept,” he wrote back.

He knew doing this would change something, though he wasn’t sure what. What he didn’t expect was just how much this would lead him down an unexpected path.

For Nigel, gaining ten pounds in a month didn’t seem like much of a challenge. And he knew that once he hit the goal and pocketed that thousand dollars, he could go back to his strict diet and regain his physique in a matter of weeks. It was just a simple detour, a small, temporary indulgence. Nothing serious. With that assurance, he decided to change his eating habits.

That same afternoon, he went to the grocery store, filling his cart with everything he normally avoided: frozen pizzas, pastries, salty snacks, and especially lots of tubs of ice cream, which he promised himself to devour every night. Salads were out of the picture for a few weeks. When he got home, the idea of indulging in unrestrained pleasure, of breaking the rules he had imposed on himself for years, turned him on. Even more so when he remembered he was doing it for Dom43, to fulfill his request.

That night, he sat on the couch in front of the TV, a pizza on one side and a tub of ice cream on the other, a smile on his face. At first, he ate because he was hungry, but soon that hunger turned into something darker, more intimate. He kept eating, even though he was no longer hungry. The mere thought of knowing he was stuffing himself, filling up to please someone, gave him a thrill he had never experienced before. When he finished, he lay back on the couch, gently stroking his slightly bloated stomach, feeling strangely satisfied.

***

Two weeks had passed, and Nigel had fully embraced his new routine of excess. He was eating as if it were a competition. The food filled him, but what really satisfied him was the idea of transforming his body at someone else’s request. He knew he was changing, that his body was reacting. And it was confirmed when he weighed himself: eight pounds gained. He was close to reaching his goal.

The next day, while working out, his personal trainer, Mark, noticed something different. Nigel was in the middle of doing crunches when Mark let out a mocking laugh.

“You’ve been slacking a bit, man,” he said, giving Nigel’s stomach a light tap. “You’ve put on some weight. And not just around the belly…” Mark added, motioning toward his backside.

Nigel laughed, trying to hide the heat rushing to his face. “Yeah, well, I’ve been indulging a little—nothing serious.”

Mark shook his head, but the comment stuck with Nigel. That teasing remark hit deep. It didn’t bother him, though. On the contrary, he liked it. For the rest of the workout, he couldn’t stop thinking about how his body was changing, about how much Dom43 would enjoy watching him soften up.

When he got home, he quickly stripped off his clothes and looked in the mirror. He touched his stomach, which was no longer as flat as it once was, and caressed the soft roundness beginning to form on his rear. Mark’s words echoed in his mind, and at that moment, Nigel couldn’t resist any longer. He collapsed onto his bed and jerked off, reaching the most intense climax of his life. What had started as a simple game to make some money had now completely consumed him.

The month had come to an end, and Nigel was ready. He carefully set up the camera, making sure the lighting was perfect, bright enough to highlight every change in his body, to show Dom43 the results of his effort. He stood in front of the mirror, took a deep breath, and began undressing slowly, recording the whole process. First, he removed his shirt, revealing his torso. His chest, once firm and defined, now had a slight sag to it. His belly, swollen and covered by a soft layer of fat, folded into rolls when he bent slightly. Then he pulled down his pants, leaving him in his tight white briefs, which now clung to him like never before. His thighs were noticeably thicker. But the real surprise came when he turned around. His ass, bigger and rounder, seemed to want to burst out of the tight fabric. The briefs could barely contain it. He gently touched his ass, feeling its fullness. Without missing a beat, he moved to the scale he had placed in front of the camera. He stepped on it carefully, watching the numbers climb rapidly. And there it was, the number that left him stunned: 191 pounds. He had gained fifteen pounds instead of the ten Dom43 had asked for. Five extra pounds, the result of his complete submission to food. Seeing the number, Nigel instantly got hard, unable to help himself.

“A hundred and ninety-one...” he muttered to himself.

Without thinking any further, he let the excitement take over. He jerked off in front of the camera, his breath ragged, and his moans filling the room. He did it for Dom43, but also for himself, for everything he had discovered about himself in the process.

Once finished, he sent the private video with a mix of anxiety and satisfaction, eagerly awaiting Dom43’s response. It didn’t take long to arrive: a payment confirmation accompanied by a comment that made Nigel shiver. “You’re a pathetic pig. You gained all this weight just because I told you to. I love it.” Nigel read aloud quietly. “I’ll give you ten thousand dollars more if you gain another twenty pounds in two months. Do you dare to become my fantasy?”

Nigel sat on the edge of his bed, staring at his still-naked, slightly sweaty body after the recording. His phone’s screen glowed with Dom43’s message: ten thousand dollars to gain another twenty pounds. The offer was tempting, too tempting. With that kind of money, he wouldn’t have to make more videos for months. He could take a break from his online life and focus on something else. Just the thought of that financial freedom made him feel relieved. But there was something more—a deep desire to please Dom43, to follow his orders, to submit to whatever he asked. It consumed him inside. He had discovered a new form of pleasure. Every pound he gained, every humiliating comment, ignited something within him that he had never felt before. Pleasing Dom43 had become almost an addiction. Yet, fear lingered in the background. He had already gained fifteen pounds, and although he initially thought he could lose it easily, he was starting to doubt whether the same would be true for thirty-five pounds. What if he couldn’t? What if continuing to gain weight destroyed the success of his OnlyFans account?

***

Nigel never imagined he would lose so much control. What started as a challenge, almost a game, had become a new reality. In just a month and a half of nonstop eating, he had gained the twenty-pounds Dom43 requested, pushing his body to limits he had never thought possible. Now weighing 211 pounds, the man he saw in the mirror was almost unrecognizable. His belly hung over the waistband, his thighs rubbed together with every step, and his once firm chest now bounced lightly with each movement. But the most shocking transformation of all was his ass, now enormous, two soft masses that jiggled with every step. And for some reason, that excited him more than it scared him.

When he arrived at the gym one afternoon, Mark greeted him with his usual mocking grin.

"Well, look who's here: my star client," Mark said sarcastically, his eyes scanning Nigel’s new body.

Throughout the workout, Mark made constant comments about his weight. Every time Nigel did a squat or lifted weights, he could feel Mark’s eyes on him, watching how his belly wobbled or how his ass strained against his shorts, which barely contained it anymore. But the most intense moment came after the workout when Nigel stepped out of the showers. As he was drying off, he noticed Mark watching him from across the locker room.

"Jesus, man..." Mark said, his eyes trailing over Nigel’s naked body. "You're huge. Like, seriously."

Before Nigel could respond, Mark stepped closer and gave him a smack on the ass. The sound echoed in the room, and Nigel’s butt cheeks rippled under Mark’s firm hand like jello. Nigel felt his face heat up, a mix of shame and arousal spreading over his skin.

"Damn," Mark laughed, "that moves like jello. What have you been eating, ice cream by the gallon? You’re getting obese, dude."

Nigel couldn’t answer, his throat dry, his mind stuck on the echo of Mark’s words. Obese. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and instead of being offended, the word hit him like a lightning bolt of pure desire. He tried to laugh, but the sound came out weak, almost choked.

He stood in front of the camera, taking deep breaths as he prepared for his second private session with Dom43. Like before, he undressed slowly, savoring each moment. He pulled off his shirt, revealing a torso that no longer had any trace of the firm muscles he once prided himself on. His chest was soft and round, visibly moving with each breath. His nipples had widened and felt unusually sensitive as he brushed his fingers over them. Then he slid off his pants, left in the same white briefs from the previous video. This time, they felt like a cruel joke. The edges dug into his hips and thighs, squeezing him in a way that was both uncomfortable and intensely arousing. His swollen belly hung slightly over the waistband, which seemed ready to give up the fight. Nigel turned to face the camera, letting it capture the most obvious change of all: his ass. It completely filled the briefs, making them look absurdly small. The fabric was stretched to its limit, with the tops of his cheeks spilling over, exposing the crack as if the briefs couldn’t possibly contain so much mass. He gave a slight shake, and his ass jiggled, continuing to bounce for a few seconds before settling. Seeing himself like that—so exposed, so impossibly large—sent a wave of arousal through him that nearly made him lose control right then and there. Nigel couldn’t help but smile. He knew Dom43 would love seeing what he had accomplished. The high point of the video came when he stepped onto the scale, carefully positioned in front of the camera. He showed the result: 211 pounds. Thirty-five pounds more than he weighed when this all began. He couldn’t help himself; the thrill of having transformed for someone else, of having fully surrendered to it, overwhelmed him. Once again, he masturbated in front of the camera, but this time, the orgasm was more intense, more liberating. His breath grew ragged, and every curve of his body shook with the force of his release.

When it was over, he sent the video to Dom43. The payment came through quickly, but what made Nigel’s heart race wasn’t the large sum of money. It was the words that followed.

“You’ve become my obedient pig. You’re good for nothing but getting fatter. You should be ashamed of how far you’ve fallen, but the worst part is, I know you love it.”

Nigel swallowed hard, feeling a knot tighten in his stomach. It was true. He loved every humiliating word, every cruel comment that made him feel smaller, more submissive, despite his growing size. But it was the last line of the message that left him frozen.

“I’ll give you twenty thousand dollars if you gain another thirty pounds.”

***

Nigel was nervous. It had been over two months since he last filmed a video for his regular OnlyFans subscribers, and now, with his body drastically transformed, he had no idea how they would react. He wanted to see if the weight gain had changed anything, if his fans were still interested in him despite the fact that he no longer had the muscular, chiseled physique that had attracted them in the first place. Deep down, he hoped it wouldn’t matter too much, that they would still desire him, and that he wouldn’t have to rely on Dom43 to stay financially stable. He set up the camera like always, but this time, he took a longer look at himself in the mirror. It was incredible how much his body had changed in just two months. His body felt heavy. Every movement made him more aware of his size.

"It's just a video," he whispered to himself, trying to calm his nerves. "I just want to see how they react."

He stood in front of the camera, shirtless, revealing his round, soft torso, wearing only a pair of black briefs that used to be loose on him. He did the usual gestures he used in his videos, showing his body from different angles, touching his chest and stomach, running his hands over the areas now covered in fat.

He uploaded the video.

The first responses came in quickly. As soon as he read the comments, his fears were confirmed. There was no acceptance, no admiration. Just criticism, mockery, and, above all, shock.

“What happened to you? You used to look incredible, but now you look like a different person,” wrote one of his longtime followers.

“You’re huge! And not in a good way. What kind of joke is this?” added another.

The comments kept coming, each one harsher than the last. They called him fat and disgusting. Some even felt betrayed by the change, as if Nigel had deliberately hidden what he’d been doing over the past few months. Others openly laughed at him, making fun of how his body had lost all definition. Nigel read every word, feeling a mix of humiliation and indescribable excitement. He had expected a negative reaction, but the brutal honesty of their attacks surpassed all his expectations. Far from feeling defeated, something dark and deep inside him awakened. Each insult, each criticism, made him feel more alive, more aware of his body and what he had achieved. The taunts about his physique didn’t discourage him; they aroused him in a way he couldn’t ignore. It was as if those words freed him. He didn’t want to go back. He wanted to push forward. He turned off his computer screen and lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Dom43 had offered him twenty thousand dollars to gain another thirty pounds. Thirty pounds that would transform him even more, taking him to a new level of submission. He had thought about rejecting the offer, about going back to his former physique. But after reading his fans’ comments, after feeling the impact of their words on his body, there was no longer any doubt. With a smile on his face, Nigel decided he was going to accept the challenge. He was ready to fully give in, to see just how far he could go.

***

Nigel stopped going to the gym altogether. Every morning, he woke up to the same routine: eat, jerk off, and eat more. His appetite seemed endless, and his libido was out of control, higher than ever. The discipline he once had had crumbled, replaced by an obsession with giving in to food and the thrill of his own transformation. His clothes no longer fit. The jeans, tight shirts, and briefs that had once defined his muscular figure now wouldn't even make it past his thighs or tore when he tried putting them on. Soon, he realized the only piece of clothing that still fit him was an old tracksuit, and even that didn’t fit well—it was so tight that the fabric stretched ridiculously, and his belly stuck out. He only wore it when he went out to buy more food, but at home, he spent his days completely naked.

In three months, Nigel had gained another thirty-five pounds, surpassing even Dom43’s challenge. His body was unrecognizable, and the scale didn’t lie. He weighed 246 pounds, a number he’d never imagined reaching. His thighs were so thick they had changed the way he walked. His belly was soft, round, and hung over. His arms, once firm, were now wrapped in fat. And his chest, completely soft, jiggled with even the slightest movement. He knew it was time to film the video for Dom43. He prepared in the simplest and most provocative way possible: completely naked, with a box of donuts by his side and the scale ready to show the result. The camera started rolling, and Nigel let himself get caught up in the moment. He grabbed one of the donuts and bit into it slowly, letting the sugar slide down his lips as he chewed exaggeratedly. He knew Dom43 would love to see him like this, enjoying the food that had turned him into what he was now.

“I’ve surpassed your challenge,” Nigel said, his voice thick with pleasure as he bit into another donut. “Another thirty-five pounds. I hope you’re happy.”

He stood up with difficulty, his ass visibly bouncing as he walked toward the scale. He stepped onto it with some effort, and it stopped at 246 pounds. Nigel showed the number to the camera with a satisfied grin on his face.

“246 pounds,” he said with pride in his voice. “But that’s not all.”

He grabbed a measuring tape and started measuring his body. First, he wrapped it around his waist.

“Fifty inches,” he announced, staring at his belly.

Then he measured his ass, which had turned into a massive ball of fat, and the number was just as shocking.

“Fifty-three inches. I can’t even fit in my office chair.”

Nigel paused for a moment, looking at the camera with a euphoric expression.

“All of this... is for you, Dom43. I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am.”

He ended the video with one last bite, chewing slowly as he jiggled his whole body while masturbating. When he finished, he turned off the camera and collapsed onto the couch, panting from exhaustion. He sent the video to Dom43 and waited, knowing the response wouldn’t take long. When it came, it was exactly what he expected.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations, pig. I never imagined you’d reach this point, that you’d become such a mountain of fat for me. Look at yourself, you’re pathetic, completely out of control. And you know what? I love it. You’ve done everything I asked and more. You’re the perfect submissive fat boy. You’re good for nothing but eating, getting fatter, and letting others laugh at you. But I must also say, I’m proud of you. You’ve proven you’re completely mine, willing to transform yourself this way just to please me. You’re incredible, in the worst way possible, of course, but that’s exactly where your greatness lies.”

Nigel stared at the screen, absorbed in the words. He had done everything Dom43 had wanted. And yet, he felt he could go further. The idea of gaining even more weight, of leaving behind any trace of his former self, called to him with unstoppable force. Without thinking too much, he typed the question that had been on his mind for days, a question that made him tremble with anticipation:

“How much will you pay me if I reach 300 pounds?”

The silence that followed for a few seconds was deafening, but Dom43’s response came quickly.

“I’m not paying you anything. This time, you won’t do it for the money. I want you to do it for me, because you can’t stop yourself now. I want you to gain until you reach 300 pounds just to please me, because now you know that’s the only thing that turns you on. You’ll do it because you belong to me.”

Nigel took a deep breath, feeling each word of that message wrap around him, filling him with a mix of submission and absolute pleasure. He knew Dom43 was right. It was no longer about the money. It was about something much bigger. What had started as a simple desire to fulfill a fantasy had become his reality. With trembling fingers, he typed the only thing he knew he could say at that moment, the only thing his mind and cock screamed for with overwhelming clarity:

“I’ll do it.”

[ghsface]

double pleasure - Matt and Chris Sturniolo

Sumary: ur fucking with Matt and accidentally shout Chris's name. Matt challenges you to indulge your desires that you have with chris. The night turns into a wild threesome

Warnings: smut +18, threesome, matt and reader are a couple, sexual tension, explicit content, use of fingers, unprotected sex (don't do it), dom!chris, dom!matt, sub!reader the reader feels empowered in a moment idk if that makes sense.

A/n: I'm collecting stuff from my drafts that I once wrote, I apologize if this doesn't make sense or is somewhat poorly written, I wrote this 2 months ago, the only thing I remember is that I was horny when I wrote it bye. the ending is shit i'm sorry

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

The heat between you and Matt had always been undeniable, an intense and passionate connection that seemed to burn every time your bodies met. However, there was something that ate at you inside, a small detail that, without you realizing, had slipped away one night.

The room was dark, with only the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, as you and Matt continued to be lost in the rhythm of your bodies. Your hands clung to him, your lips saying his name between gasps… until, in an instant, his name was replaced by that of his brother. Chris. You had moaned his name in the midst of passion, and Matt, to your surprise, had acted as if he hadn’t heard it. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t change the rhythm. He just continued, bringing you to ecstasy as he always did.

Since that night, you felt more restless, waiting for some sign of annoyance or some sarcastic comment. But nothing. Matt was still the same, loving, attentive, not a single word about what had happened. Sometimes you thought maybe he hadn’t even heard. But every time you saw Chris, a spark of guilt ran through your body, mixed with something darker, something you didn’t want to admit.

One night, you decided to surprise Matt. You put on a set of black lingerie that you knew he would love. You looked at yourself in the mirror, making sure every detail was perfect before settling into bed, waiting for him to arrive. Desire burned within you as you imagined what would happen as soon as he walked in.

You heard the door open and the sound of footsteps approaching. You bit your lip, ready to see Matt’s expression when he found you like this. But, when you looked up, it wasn’t just Matt who entered the room.

Chris was with him.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a second, confusion replaced desire. You looked at Matt, waiting for an explanation. But he just smiled, a smile you hadn’t seen before, something dark in his eyes.

“You know,” Matt said as he closed the door behind Chris, “I’ve been thinking about what happened that night.”

Your body tensed, a shiver running through you. He had heard it.

“I thought maybe you hadn’t heard it…” you murmured, feeling heat rise to your cheeks.

Matt laughed softly and shook his head. “I heard it very clearly.” He took a step closer to the bed. “You moaned my brother’s name while you were fucking me. And honestly, it took me a while to process it. But then I thought… if you want him so much, why not let you have him?”

Chris, who had remained silent until that moment, was looking at you with an intensity that made you shiver. You didn’t know what to say. The words were stuck in your throat as you tried to comprehend what was happening.

“Matt…” you started, but he cut you off.

“Don’t worry. I’m not mad. In fact, I think this could be… interesting.” Matt moved closer to the bed, his hand gently caressing your cheek before moving to your chin, tilting your face up so you were looking at him. “If you want Chris so much, show me. Fuck him.”

The room filled with an electric tension as Matt’s words hung in the air. You looked at Chris, his breathing seemed heavier, his eyes filled with a mix of desire and wariness. You knew you could stop all of this at any moment, but something in you didn’t want to. The thought of being between the two brothers made you feel something you’d never experienced.

Without another word, Matt pulled away, leaving you with Chris.

Chris stood still for a moment, his eyes roaming every inch of your body covered in that lingerie that, now, seemed much more revealing. You felt the tension in the air, that feeling of being at the center of something forbidden and dangerous.

The silence in the room was deafening, but you could hear your heartbeat hammering in your ears. Slowly, Chris took a step towards you, his gaze darkened by desire and uncertainty.

“Are you sure?” he finally asked, his voice huskier than you’d heard before.

You looked at Matt, searching for any hint of regret or doubt on his face. But he just crossed his arms, leaning against the wall, watching the scene with an almost predatory expression.

“Do it,” he murmured, his tone soft but full of authority.

Your breathing quickened, and the heat in your body intensified. It was a situation you would never have imagined, but there was something about the idea of ​​being with Chris, with Matt there, watching, that made you lose control.

Chris finally approached the bed, his hand gently brushing your leg. You felt a shiver run down your spine, as he slid his fingers along the fabric of your lingerie, as if he were exploring unfamiliar territory.

“I never thought this would happen,” Chris murmured, his eyes locked with yours as his hand slowly moved up your thigh.

“Me neither…” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly.

Chris leaned into you, his warm breath caressing your skin. His lips brushed your neck, and you closed your eyes, losing yourself in the feeling of his body so close to yours. But before you could do anything else, you heard the sound of Matt moving behind you.

“Don’t forget about me,” Matt said, his voice low and almost teasing.

You turned slightly, your eyes meeting his. Matt moved closer to the bed, his hand wrapping around your waist as Chris continued to kiss your skin. The contrast between the two of you was overwhelming, and you found yourself lost in the pleasure of having the two of them so close.

Chris took your face in his hands, his lips finally meeting yours in an intense, almost hungry kiss. You felt the weight of his body on you, as Matt stayed by your side, watching every movement, every gasp that escaped your lips.

The room seemed smaller, the air heavy with tension and desire. There was no turning back now, you were trapped between the two brothers, each claiming a part of you.

Chris deepened the kiss, and you felt his tongue explore every corner of your mouth, slow and possessive. There was a restrained strength in his movements, as if he had been waiting for this moment longer than he was willing to admit. His firm hands roamed your body, tracing every curve, every fold of the fabric that barely covered you.

Matt, meanwhile, knelt on the bed behind you, his fingers sliding down your back to the edge of the lingerie, slowly pulling it down. The touch of both of them on your skin made you lose track of everything around you except them. Their breaths mixed with yours, their hands synchronized, creating a symphony of sensations.

Chris pulled away from your lips, his gaze burning with desire. He held you by the hips and gently turned you so that you were kneeling in front of him on the bed, your body between the two of them. You felt Matt's gaze fixed on you, a mix of pride and perversion in his expression.

“Show him how much you want him,” Matt murmured, his voice low and heavy with authority as he too began to strip off his clothes.

Chris didn’t wait any longer. His hands traveled firmly to your hips, pulling you into him. You could feel the hardness of his erection pressing against you through his clothes, and the mere contact drew a soft moan from you. The anticipation was killing you.

“Don’t hold back,” Chris whispered, his voice husky, his eyes never leaving yours. “I want to hear you.”

Matt, still behind you, slid his hand between your legs, brushing your folds with a deft, teasing touch. You cried out softly in surprise and pleasure, feeling your body respond instantly. You could feel the mix of their hands, one holding you firmly while the other touched you with a precision that made you shiver.

“You like it?” Matt asked in your ear, his breath hot on your neck as his hand continued to work on you, his tone filled with satisfaction at what he was doing. “It’s not just Chris you want, is it?”

You were too lost in the pleasure to respond coherently. At that moment, desire for both brothers was consuming you. Matt knew it, and so did Chris. And now, they were playing with you, enjoying every second of it.

Finally, Chris stripped off the rest of his clothes and lifted you with ease to place you on top of him, aligning his erection with your center. He grabbed you by the hips, and without wasting another second, he slowly impaled you on his hardness. A guttural moan came from deep within your throat as you felt Chris fill you completely, his hands gripping you tightly, controlling every movement.

“Like that…” Chris gasped, his voice cracking with pleasure, his eyes momentarily closing as he felt you around him.

Matt, still behind you, held you tightly, his mouth running over the skin of your neck as his hands played with your breasts, squeezing and massaging, heightening every sensation. You were completely at his mercy, your senses overwhelmed by the pleasure they were both giving you.

The pace intensified. Chris moved your hips on him with a mix of ferocity and control, each thrust drawing a new moan from you. Meanwhile, Matt was whispering things in your ear, dirty words that only made the heat inside you grow even more.

“Come on,” Matt whispered with a dangerous smile on his lips. “Let yourself go.” The combination of their bodies and their whispers enveloped you in a whirlwind of pleasure. Each thrust of Chris pushed you into an abyss of sensations, while Matt explored your body with expert hands, playing with your breasts and caressing your skin. You felt trapped between two worlds, each of them taking your pleasure to a new level.

“Look how you enjoy it,” Chris murmured, leaning towards you as he filled you. His lips brushed your ear, and his deep voice made a shiver run down your spine. “Do you like this? Do you like it when we moan together?”

His words were a challenge, a reminder that you weren’t just sharing this moment with one of them, but both of them. The idea of ​​being there, between the two brothers, was a mix of intimacy and danger that made you feel more alive than ever.

“Tell me what you want,” Matt insisted, his breath hot against your skin. His fingers ran down your stomach and slid down, provoking more and more sensations. “Do you want me to do it faster? Do you want Chris to touch you?”

You couldn’t answer, only letting out a moan as you gave in to the sensations. Chris continued to thrust into you, each movement deeper and more powerful than the last. The sound of your body slamming against his filled the room, mixing with Matt’s murmurs.

“Come on, don’t be shy.” Matt smiled, enjoying the scene as he continued to caress you. “Tell him what you want.”

Finally, your lips parted, and in an act of boldness, you moaned, “I want… I want them both to touch me.”

The smile on Matt’s face widened, and Chris paused for a moment, looking at you with a mix of surprise and satisfaction. But it was only for a moment, because then Chris caught you hard, his hips moving again, making the pressure inside you increase.

“I can do that,” Chris said, his voice full of determination as he looked into your eyes. As you moved on top of him, you felt Matt settle down beside you, his hand finding your crotch, playing between your legs, stimulating every sensitive part of your body.

The two of you were in perfect sync, one pushing you forward and the other stroking you in a way that made everything feel even more intense. Every touch from Matt was electrifying, while Chris focused on bringing you to the edge, making you completely forget about everything but the pleasure.

“You’re perfect,” Matt murmured, his words like a spell, drawing you deeper into the maelstrom of sensations.

With each thrust from Chris, you felt yourself getting closer and closer to climax. His eyes were fixed on you, his expression a mix of desire and satisfaction. Matt, with his expert touch, knew exactly how to heighten your pleasure, bringing you over the edge.

“I can’t take it anymore…” you managed to stammer out between gasps, pressure building in your abdomen.

“Let go,” Chris insisted, intensifying his pace. “I’m here with you. Leave it all to me.”

Chris’s words were the spark that lit the flame. Your body shook, and in a moment of pure euphoria, you let yourself go. The climax swept you away, enveloping you in a wave of pleasure that had you screaming out their names, resonating in the room like an echo of what you were sharing.

The two men surrounded you, their bodies pressing against yours, and as ecstasy consumed you, you felt everything come together in a single instant, a moment of intense connection unlike anything you had ever experienced.

With every throb, every moan, every whisper, you found yourself in a place where desire and vulnerability intertwined, letting the room fill with the energy of three bodies intertwined, each claiming their share of you and reveling in the passion only they could offer.

The surge of pleasure swept you away, and as you sank into that climax, the outside world faded away. There was only the heat of Chris pushing you up and the comforting touch of Matt caressing your skin. The feeling of being trapped between the two of them was intoxicating, and each of them seemed to lose themselves as much as you did in that moment.

When you finally reached the top, a cry of ecstasy escaped your lips, echoing through the room. The sensation was so intense that your body shook as waves of pleasure coursed through every corner of you. Chris continued to move, taking you further than you thought possible, while Matt, still at your side, held you firmly, his hands making sure you never felt alone in this experience.

As the euphoria began to subside, Chris held you firmly, guiding you as his thrusts became faster, more urgent. The blend of your bodies was perfect, as if each complemented the other in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Chris moaned your name, the sound so deep it resonated in your chest, and Matt, sensing the moment, let his hand move to your clit, applying the pressure you knew you needed.

“You’re the one who wants us both, aren’t you?” Matt said, his voice soft, but the need in it clear. “I want you to realize what this means.”

It was a question, but also a statement. The truth was, yes, you wanted them both. You had been playing with fire from the very first moment, and now that you were in the middle of this whirlwind of passion, it all made sense. The shared intimacy, the desire, the danger… it all came together in a single instant.

“Yes, I want this,” I answered, feeling the honesty flow from you like a river in a desert. There was no turning back. You didn’t want this to end, for this moment to fade away.

Chris smiled at your words, and as he filled you once more, you realized there was a glint in his eyes that showed his own satisfaction. The connection was palpable, as if the three of you were linked by an invisible thread that vibrated with the energy of the moment.

“Then let’s enjoy it,” Chris said, and his voice was a deep whisper that made a new shiver run through your body. He took your face in his hands and kissed you with an intensity that left you breathless.

Matt, without wasting a second, intensified his caresses, his hand now moving with greater haste. You were surrounded by his warmth, and every touch was a reminder that they were both there for you. As the three of you gave in to the pleasure, a symphony of moans and breaths mingled in the air, creating an atmosphere charged with passion.

The room was filled with noises: the sound of bodies colliding, of labored breaths, of moans escaping your lips. Matt and Chris looked at each other often, their gazes filled with a silent understanding, a kind of connection that went beyond simple physical attraction.

“I want you both to feel good,” you said, aware that each of them had their own desire, their own needs. The thought of satisfying them both made you feel powerful, like your pleasure expanded to include the two men around you.

“And we will,” Chris replied, a smile shining in his eyes. With that final thrust, he increased his pace, and just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, Matt leaned in and began whispering in your ear, filling your thoughts with promises and desires that made you shudder.

“I’m going to take care of you, don’t worry,” Matt said, his tone soft but firm. “We’re going to make sure you get everything you want.”

The combination of their words and the movement of their bodies brought you to a new peak of pleasure, and your mind clouded as the sensations coursed through you. In the end, what started as simple three-way play morphed into something bigger, deeper. You were completely immersed in their world, where each of them had a role to play in your pleasure, and you, in theirs.

With every thrust, with every caress, you felt like you were at the center of something extraordinary, a moment beyond any fantasy you had ever imagined. And as the heat built once again inside you, you knew there was no place you wanted to be more than there, between them, enjoying the moment and letting passion take control.

The intensity of the moment continued to grow, and the air became thick with desire. Chris and Matt moved in perfect sync, each complementing the other, each thrust and caress increasing the level of pleasure that washed over you. The way they looked at each other, how they communicated without words, made you feel like you were at the center of their world, something precious and valuable.

Chris, still holding you by the hips, began to lean back, allowing you to take control. The change in position allowed you to play with the rhythm and depth of each movement. You felt powerful doing so, and the gazes of both brothers filled you with confidence.

“That’s how I like it,” Chris said, his lips curling into a satisfied smile. “Take me however you want.”

With a moan of satisfaction, you began to move on top of him, exploring how his body reacted to each touch. Matt’s hands continued to roam over your skin, gently sliding his fingers down your back, while his kisses went from your neck to your shoulders, marking your skin with heated caresses. The heat of his body was an addictive sensation that only increased your desire.

“That’s it, keep going like that,” Matt encouraged, his voice full of desire. You loved having them both so on edge, waiting for what you would do next.

Your movements became more pronounced, the pleasure pumping through you like a torrent. With each thrust, you felt Chris plunge deeper, filling you with his essence. Your body responded, eager and wanting, as the pressure built up again inside you.

“Don’t stop,” Chris whispered, his voice torn with pleasure. “I need more of you.”

The urgency in his voice made you smile, and with a surge of boldness, you began to move faster, pushing yourself into him with every movement. Matt’s hands gripped your waist, helping you keep up. The feeling of being trapped between the two men was intoxicating, and the pleasure soared to levels you had never imagined.

“I love seeing you like this,” Matt murmured, his voice deep and full of desire. His gaze was fixed on you, watching every move you made. “You’re incredible.”

The combination of his words and the way they both touched you made you feel more alive than ever. It was as if every caress and every whisper was designed just for you, and in that moment, there was nothing more you could want. You felt completely consumed by them, by the passion, and by the connection you shared.

As the tension inside you grew, you began to lose yourself in the moment. The room filled with sounds: your moans, Chris’s sighs, Matt’s murmurs, all creating a symphony of pleasure. I couldn’t take it anymore, and every time Chris thrust up, you felt the line between pleasure and pain blur, bringing you to a state of absolute ecstasy.

“I’m going to…” you managed to articulate, feeling the pressure building up in your abdomen reach its peak. The world around you faded away in a haze of desire and pleasure, and you couldn’t think of anything but the climax that was coming.

“Let yourself go,” Chris insisted, his eyes burning with a mix of desire and determination. “We’re here with you. Just let yourself go.”

With those words echoing in your mind, you let it all spill out. Your body shook with the surge of climax, an explosion of pleasure that had you screaming as waves of satisfaction crashed over you. Chris and Matt held you tightly, making sure you didn’t fade away into the abyss of pleasure.

The room filled with an almost electric energy as you gave yourself over completely. Each second seemed like an eternity as you basked in the intensity of that moment. The climax continued to course through your body, waves of pleasure spreading from your toes to the tips of your hair.

As the ecstasy began to subside, you felt even more connected to them. Their bodies continued to embrace you, each holding you in a way that made you feel safe and wanted at the same time.

Chris smiled, his gaze still filled with passion. “You’re amazing.” He said, his voice a breathy whisper from the pleasure still vibrating in the air.

Matt looked at you in admiration, his hand gently caressing your cheek. “I never thought this would happen,” she murmured, her expression revealing a mix of surprise and desire. “But I’m so happy it did.”

⛧°。 ⋆༺ ✮ ༻⋆。 °⛧

your reblogs and replies are always appreciated dearly ✮

[harkness-pet]

Hello! Could you maybe write something darker where Agatha makes reader think reader’s all alone and seduces her? Maybe uses some magic to make her more needy? Thank youu 🥴

Here you go:)

Just a FYI, it’s been a while since I wrote something and English is not my first language, so please bear with me while I slowly get back to writing. And thank you all for the positive feedback on “what a pretty girl”, it was unexpected, but very much appreciated!

you will never need anything else 

You drop your phone on the table. It is no use to keep staring at it, no message is going to come through. You have tried to call your friends many times, but they’re always busy, never picking up the phone. 

You don’t know what you did wrong. It has started since around the time you moved to your new apartment which you share with a woman named Agatha. The price was not so bad and you could really use some company. 

Your need for company have only grown since your parents stopped responding to your messages, explaining in their last message that they’re busy, and your friends started sending you weird cryptic texts hinting at why they don’t want to be around you anymore. 

But it was your birthday. Shouldn’t they send at least one small message? 

You don’t understand, everything was fine, but it seems like you did something or maybe changed and people just didn’t want to be around you. 

You feel tears spring to your eyes and you blink furiously to get rid of them. You try one more time to call your friend, but the call doesn’t even go to a voice mail, it seems like she blocked your number. 

You stand up and march to the kitchen and rummage through the cupboard to find Agatha’s good gin. It is Friday night after all and your birthday and your shift doesn’t start until Saturday evening. If only you had more money you could just buy a plane ticket and go visit your parents, but the prices are so high and you’re barely hanging there as it is. 

You pour yourself a generous amount of the gin and then see a bottle of some purple syrup in the back titled “for Y/N”. You smile despite the tears. At least you have Agatha - Agatha who makes you home made syrups, who always asks how your day went and who never ignores any text message. 

You add the syrup into the gin and you swear you see it sparkle a bit, but you’re probably just tired and seeing things. 

You’re on your second glass when the tears come again and in that moment Agatha comes home. When she sees your face, she immediately drops her coat and bag and envelopes you in a hug. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” she asks with worry in her voice and kisses your head. 

“I don’t know,” you weep, hugging her back tightly. “Everyone just… no one has time for me and it’s my birthday and no one even… I don’t understand.” 

“Oh baby,” she whispers. “Come.” She leads you back to the couch, not before eyeing the bottle of syrup with wide eyes. “I see you found my gift.”

“Sorry, I-“

“No, no,” she calms you down and settles down so you’re still in her embrace, enjoying how her fingers run through your hair and draw circles on your back. “It was for you after all. It contains some very special berries from Ireland, they taste magical, but are very hard to find here.”

She puts a finger below your chin and raises it up to make you look at her. Then she brushes a stray strand of hair behind your ear and whispers: “special berries for my special girl.”

You smile softly. Agatha always has a way of making you feel important. “Thank you, I liked the taste.”

“No more tears, sweetheart, no one is worth it,” she tells you and caresses your cheek. 

In the moment of vulnerability you have a sudden impulse to kiss her and you do so, closing the distance between you two, planting a firm kiss on her lips.

She doesn’t return the kiss so you move away. “Oh god, I’m so sorry, Agatha.”

Agatha smiles and grabs the back of your neck, pushing you forward to kiss you back. “Don’t be sorry, it’s okay.”

As you’re slowly making out with Agatha, you feel the world  turn upside down and you have to lean back to breathe.

“What’s happening?”

“I don’t know,” you say frowning and suddenly you feel too warm. “I feel…weird.” You start unbuttoning your shirt leaving only a tank top on. 

“Baby,” Agatha whispers and grabs your shoulders, pushing you back to lay down on the couch. “Let me make you feel better.”

You start panting, the heat is making you crazy and you take off the tank top, not even caring that you are not wearing a bra. “Agatha, I need you” you whine. 

“Shh, I know,” Agatha shushes you and with hungry eyes looks over your exposed skin. She leans down to lick your nipple making you moan out loud. “Sweet pretty girl, you don’t know how long I’ve wanted this. Look at you.” 

You don’t have the energy to acknowledge her words, your body is on fire and your whole mind screams agatha agatha agatha as if you were under her spell. You’re pretty sure you’ve never thought about Agatha that way, but that seems so stupid because her mere presence is making you crazy now.

“You look so beautiful like this,” Agatha whispers, sits next to you and softly traces her hands all over your exposed body. “So needy,” she murmurs and pinches your nipples, “so pliant,” she lowers one hand to cover your soaked folds over the sweatpants you’re wearing.

You wish you had more dignity, but in that moment you don’t care as you grab her hand and push it under the waistband of your pants. 

You both moan as her fingers finally reach your center. She slowly circles your clit making your hips thrust up. 

“You are mine, Y/N,” Agatha says and kisses you loudly before kissing your neck, your breasts, your belly, marking you, biting you. “I’m so glad you finally realised that I’m the only one you need.” 

You moan and you whimper and you really cannot imagine you will ever need anything else. 

“You see?” Agatha murmurs against your skin. “Isn’t this better than hanging out with friends who don’t appreciate you? Or parents who don’t even listen to what you have to say?” 

You moan as you come and bring Agatha’s head up so you can kiss her again. You clung to her shoulders, treating them as your anchor. You cannot let go of her. Her wild hair tickle your breasts and you see yourself as an offering, sparkles very similar to the ones in the syrup simmer behind your eyelids and you’re changing. You are not you. You’re Agatha’s.

Your mind is swirling with her, her scent, her eyes, her smirk, her soft skin, you suddenly don’t know what possessed you to ever care that the people you had been once closed to halted any contact with you. You have Agatha and that’s all you need. 

You don’t know that Agatha messed with your phone and email account. You don’t know that your friends received a message from your phone number explaining that you want different friends… you don’t know she actually messages your parents often from a different phone number which she told them is your new one, telling them you’re good and well and very busy. 

You think you have no one but Agatha. You think you don’t need anyone else but Agatha. And Agatha and her special berries made sure you will always think that. 

[bumblequinn]

hi @sourpatchsquids! thank you for your question.

as an artist with ADHD, i know this struggle very well. unfortunately offering advice on this kind of thing can be tricky, because what works for me may not work for you (and vice versa!). nonetheless, i can try; take whatever works for you, forget the rest, or reshape any part of it as you see fit. :)

but before i offer any actual tools, i have one caveat. i want you to take a moment to reflect and consider if you should be:

changing expectations

the timing of this question seems fated, because just the other day i had a therapy session wherein i expressed my grief and frustration over struggling to work lately due to my seasonal depression. it's not fair that i'm struggling just because it got a little darker outside! i just want the spark i had in the summer! i was so much more consistent!

my therapist's response: nothing about human beings is consistent. we get sick, we get tired, we get hungry and thirsty (and thirsty) and sad and lonely and restless and stressed and overwhelmed. this all gets amplified for folks who are atypical in some way or another.

when my therapist compared our seasonal cycles to those of plants and other animals, who wilt and slow down and hibernate, i protested aloud that i wanted to be a perennial instead. at this she said: even perennials change with the seasons. rose bushes have to be pruned, sometimes down to half their height! it was a dose of perspective i didn't particularly want, but really needed.

so when you're struggling to work through executive dysfunction, burnout, or brain fog, it can help to first check in with yourself about a few things. what do you have the capacity for right now? do you need any accommodation? and if so, what changes you might make to accommodate yourself?

with practice and self reflection, i've learned a handful of specific routines that help me when i'm struggling with creative work, which i'll detail next. note that while your question is specifically about music and i am specifically a musician, i believe that all of these suggestions can apply to most any form of digital creative work.

with that in mind:

#1: work slower

when i'm at the top of my game, i can get a LOT done in a day. but when i'm depressed, fatigued, or distracted, i just can't go full steam. sometimes i'll try to convince myself that i can if i just push harder, but what actually ends up happening is that i'm just fiddling with settings and going in circles rather than moving forward.

instead of that, when i want to work a lot but can't, i try to work slow. how slow? however slow i need to. take four hours to figure out the melody for a single verse. take all day to figure out that drum groove. yeah, i take a lot of breaks in between. who says i have to be my Absolute Most Productive Every Day Or Else? that's the puritan work ethic talking. kill it. be kind to yourself.

i'm reminded of advice i once read about some super successful and prolific author (gaiman? king? pratchett?) who said they wrote only four hundred words every weekday. that's already less than the word count of this post, and i'm only—[travels into the future to check my final word count]... 22.8% of the way through writing it!

now, i don't think i could function that way, because ADHD means some days i'm hyperfocused like crazy, and other days i just have no steam at all (more on that in #4-6). but it seems to me that if even someone highly respected in their profession can achieve what they have with only a little bit of work on a regular basis, maybe i don't have to punish myself for not pumping out a finished work every single week.

doing less work per day means you're much less likely to burn out, which does a lot for working more consistently. if that consistency still doesn't look like a five-day work week, that's okay! as long as it helps you work even a little more often when you want to, it's something worth doing.

however, if you're still feeling truly stuck, all hope isn't lost. you can still try:

#2: switch projects

sometimes the reason i'm moving slow is because of a bad brain day, but sometimes the reason is that i just cannot muster the motivation to do the specific task i'm trying to do right now. ADHD is fueled by novelty and interest, and if i'm not interested in what i'm doing, or it's feeling stale, that's a sign that i need to switch gears.

this is why first it's helpful for me to have more than one project going at a time. this might mean completely unrelated works, or it might just mean related tracks as with the music for a game like SLARPG or susan taxpayer.

the idea here is not to start a dozen different projects and bounce around them like i'm playing whac-a-mole—though i have done that. (i don't recommend it.) the idea here is to have a manageable number of different projects i can be working on so that if i get bored or stuck on something, i have fallback options.

what that number of projects is depends entirely on the week. maybe right now it's two, maybe another time it's three. i would probably be getting carried away if i tried more than that, but that's just my own limit. maybe yours is different. that's something for you to think about.

but it doesn't have to stop there.

#3: switch focus

maybe there is this one project that i just HAVE to work on, but the task i'm trying to do at this stage just isn't coming to me. okay, well, why don't i try working on a different task?

let's say i can't figure out what i want to do with the melody in one part of the song:

what if i try jumping ahead to a different part of the melody? ...no, i'm stumped on melodies today. okay, how about working on the drums instead? ...hmm no, i think i'm just completely tapped out on writing parts right now. alright, what if i organized my tracks, making sure they're all grouped and named in a way that i can work with easily? what if i did a rough volume balance for the mix?

and so on. if that's not enough to shake the off stuckness, i might consider: what can i do to make this project more interesting to me?

what happens if i try using an instrument or effect that i almost never reach for? what if i try sampling something obscure? what if i bang out the drums using my midi keyboard instead of drawing it in on the piano roll?

any approach that breaks me out of my usual habits is bound to get that feeling of novelty and fun back when i need it.

or maybe i can't do any of that right now, and so i take the time to answer a question from a fellow musician instead. i consider that part of my work, too, in a broader sense. check in with yourself and figure out what you can do right now. the rest will still be there later.

but okay, let's say you try switching gears, and switching again, and again, and nothing is moving. you try new approaches, but that wall of awful is insurmountable in this moment. it happens! the next thing you might try is:

#4: learn something new

when you aren't able to make progress on your projects, you can still make progress on your knowledge and craft. i often find this stokes a flame of inspiration in me where there wasn't one before. and even when it doesn't, it still gets my brain out of that feeling of stuckness and dread and into one of thought and action. learning also benefits in the long term because it adds to the well of knowledge from which you draw for all your future works.

for all the awfulness that exists on the internet, it remains an absolute treasure trove of teaching. there's an endless ocean of videos, blog posts, and articles from which you might learn something about your craft. (and if you sail the seven seas, plenty of book PDFs as well. 🦜🏴‍☠️)

it's true that the quality and depth of information out there can vary wildly, but in my experience most resources get at least some things right. and the more you research, practice, and figure out what works for you, the better you will learn to differentiate between the advice worth keeping, and the advice to forget. (that goes for all of what i'm saying here, too!)

that said, since our shared focus is music, a few resources i would highly recommend are:

music theory and composition music matters, 12tone, charles cornell, music with myles, 8-bit music theory, and this introduction by andrew huang

mixing and production dan worrall (especially this series for fabfilter), kush after hours, red means recording, andrew huang, alice yalcin efe, in the mix

general inspiration nahre sol, ben levin, david hilowitz, game score fanfare, posy, jerobeam fenderson, open reel ensemble, and ELECTRONICOS FANTASTICOS!

(if any readers have their own helpful resources for creating music or any other media, feel free to share in the replies & reblogs! 💓)

of course, on an especially bad day, it might be a challenge to seek out information, let alone retain it. that can feel pretty bad, but remember: be kind to yourself. the next thing you might consider trying is:

#5: consume art you love

not just music. books. shows. movies. games. illustration. animation. whatever moves and inspires you.

but do it intentionally. don't just pull up some random thing the algorithm suggested! check in with yourself about what you want (or are able) to engage with right now. choose accordingly. if you get a little way into it and realize it's not scratching that itch, hit the bricks. check in with yourself again. wash, rinse, repeat, until you find whatever it is that speaks to you right now.

and do it actively, if you can. don't just let it go in one eye and out the other! really pay attention to the work. what do you like about it? what are its themes and motifs? what makes it work so well? what are its flaws, and how much do they matter? what might you do differently? you can write notes as you do this if it helps, but even simply noticing and thinking goes a long way.

what you don't want to do is come at this with a lens of shame or envy. you're not here just to say to yourself, "ugh, if only i could do THAT." it's okay if it happens. use that thought as a springboard for curiosity: "well okay, how DID they do that? do i have the resources for it? if so, how could i apply that to my own work? if not, how can i adapt it, or what do i need to learn?" keep your mind open and approach the work with a sense of wonder.

as a creative person, it's very easy to think, "i should be making something right now, not watching a movie!" but that thought forgets something vital: your art is a response in a conversation. of course the "language" you use is your own, and maybe if you're lucky you'll invent a new word. but most of the words you use have been around long before you were born. you're just one voice in a dialogue that spans continents and generations, and that's okay. it's even the whole point.

none of us is an island. we are profoundly social animals. just as we can't live without eating, we can't make without learning. so half of making art is consuming it. consider this part of the process as well.

and finally,

#6: rest, and live your life

let's say you're in really dire straits. you've tried working slower. you tried changing focus, you tried changing projects. you want to take in new information or actively engage with your favorite art, but you're not in the headspace for it. what now?

take a nap. take a walk. take a shower. eat a nice meal, or an okay one. talk to a friend. maybe even do that chore you've been putting off (you know the one).

it's human to always crave making, but you're not a machine—and even if you were, machines need regular maintenance, too! you wouldn't drive a car that's completely out of gas, and you won't do yourself any favors treating your body that way either.

i know that when you take a break it feels as though you're not accomplishing anything, but you are: you're taking care of your animal self. and while you do that, your creative brain doesn't stop working! much like windows, it has countless background processes running at any given moment, with inscrutable names like "cbdhsvc_692da" or "Microsoft Edge Update Service." it's true, i checked.

when you're stuck on a project and you step away to rest, your brain is still chipping away at your ideas unconsciously. i like to tell people, "it's percolating." much like waiting for a pot of water to boil, that idea is still heating up, even when you take a step away. just be sure to check in on it once in a while. the time will pass, and it'll be boiling again before long. :)

before i go, i'll leave you with one last thing to keep in mind as you try all of these strategies:

be kind to yourself.

being human is just about one of the hardest things you can do. let alone being a human trying to survive capitalism while living with disabilities! the last thing you need on top of that is to overwork yourself, talk to yourself negatively, or treat yourself harshly. there are plenty of other people in the world who do that to you—don't be one of them.

i'm not saying that you shouldn't try to challenge yourself, to test your limits and go above and beyond your ambitions, if that's what you want to do. just remember that hard work and self compassion are not mutually exclusive. so be careful not to bully yourself. take pride in the progress you make, even when it seems small. encourage yourself like you would a friend who's going through a hard time. and when you challenge yourself, be your own cheerleader.

i hope you find this advice helpful! remember, this is just what helps me, so don't feel like you have to follow any of it exactly. maybe taking time to learn new information helps break you out of your rut more than working slowly, so you reach for that tool first. maybe having multiple projects going at once is too distracting for you, so you prefer to stick to one at a time. whatever your needs are, feel free to alter and adapt these ideas to fit you.

thank you for reading, and i wish you the best of luck in your creating.

with care, bee 🐦

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° are we just waiting for a light that doesn't shine?

( kunigami rensuke x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — third part in my Seven Petals, All Poison series ;) (masterlist)

♡ word count — 1.3k

♡ content — rensuke kunigami x fem! reader, high school sweethearts, post wild-card! kunigami, manga spoilers if you're an anime only ( i love yall but don't wanna spoil it ), all characters are 18+ ( i wrote them abt 21 ), friends to lovers to strangers to lovers to strangers again, not proofread!

♡ synopsis — You never got a goodbye—only the ghost of the boy you loved, returned with sharper edges. Years after Kunigami leaves, you see him again: older, quieter, darker. You fall back into something familiar, hoping your love might bring back the hero he once dreamed of becoming. But some people don’t come home. Not really

── .✦ are we just ghosts now, you and i ?

You don’t know what you expected from coming home for the holidays.

Snow coating the cracked sidewalks. Warm lights in the windows of houses that never changed. The sound of a distant radio humming something familiar. Maybe even a peace you hadn’t felt in years.

But what you didn’t expect—what you couldn’t have prepared for—was him.

Across the street, sitting on his childhood porch like no time had passed at all.

Rensuke Kunigami.

Your Rensuke.

He’s older now. His shoulders broader, posture more guarded. His eyes—once honey-bright and hopeful—are darker. Heavier. You almost don’t recognize them until they lift and meet yours.

He doesn’t smile.

And before you can stop yourself, your voice betrays you. “Rensuke...?”

It comes out cracked. Too loud in the winter stillness. But his eyes lock on you the way they always did. Sharp. Curious. A little startled. 

You don’t know if he’s surprised to see you… or surprised you spoke at all.

You find yourselves talking that night like you used to—awkwardly at first, like digging up the past with trembling hands.

You fill the silence with stories. Of your life, your apartment, your job. He listens. Quietly. He always did, but now it feels different. He lets you talk until your throat is dry, but never adds much.

“I like hearing your voice,” he says.

But the boy you loved used to interrupt every few seconds to agree or tease, or to finish your sentences just to see you roll your eyes.

That boy is gone.

You try not to notice.

You ignore how his voice has a new weight. How his eyes seem to linger too long on nothing. How he clenches his jaw when the conversation steers toward the past.

But it’s been years. People change.

Right?

You see him almost every day that week. Sitting with you at the diner. Taking long walks without gloves because neither of you remember how to function in a proper winter. 

He stands a little closer each time. Lets his shoulder brush yours. But even when you’re beside him, he feels far away.

Still—you fall. You always did.

Maybe not the way you did at sixteen, but enough to hurt again.

And then, you’re kissing him.

He’s at your door one night, and the space between you vanishes like a fuse lit. His hands are rougher. His lips more urgent. 

When he whispers your name, it’s like a curse, not a prayer.

You don’t ask him why he left without saying goodbye. You already know the answer.

You just didn’t want to hear it from his lips.

When he returns to Germany, something starts. Whatever this is—it’s not quite a relationship, but not nothing either. 

You talk daily. 

Call when the time difference allows. 

And when he flies in for weekends, he’s at your door before you can even brush your hair.

He’s always been devoted like that.

But it’s different now. His devotion feels desperate. Possessive. Like he’s trying to prove something.

Like he’s holding on too tight because he knows he’s slipping.

You don’t notice the anger at first.

Until one night, after a game he refuses to talk about, he throws his phone across the room hard enough to crack the corner of your table.

“Rensuke—!”

“Don’t,” he snaps. “It’s nothing.”

But it’s not nothing. And the bruise on his knuckles is proof.

The next morning, he apologizes with his head bowed and hands on your hips, voice softer than silk.

“I’m just… tired,” he says.

And you believe him. Because you want to. Because loving him has always meant making excuses for his silence.

The memories of the old him come uninvited.

You remember the way he used to laugh so hard he’d cry during movie nights.

The way he’d bring you sunflower seeds in a paper bag because you mentioned once that they reminded you of your grandfather.

You remember the boy who carried your books without asking. Who held your pinky under the table like it was a secret you shared only between skin.

You remember loving someone who looked like him.

But the man in your bed now is not that boy.

The man in your bed wakes in a cold sweat. He grips the sheets too tight. Sometimes doesn’t speak at all for hours after a nightmare you aren’t allowed to know the details of.

One night, he kisses you too hard. 

His hands gripping your waist like he’s angry—at himself, at the world, at the parts of you he can’t own. You tell him to slow down. He doesn’t hear you until you say his name again.

That’s when he stops.

That’s when he pulls away and stares at his hands like they’ve betrayed him.

“This isn’t who you are,” you whisper.

And it’s true. But the problem is—maybe it is who he is now.

You start walking on eggshells.

When he cancels calls, you don’t ask why.

When he disappears after games, you tell yourself it’s normal.

When he shows up unannounced in the middle of the night and kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, you hold him.

Even though you’re the one being erased.

Because love feels like a habit now. Like lighting a candle in a room that always goes dark.

There’s a memory that comes back sometimes.

Kunigami was sixteen, standing on the field after a regional win, sweat-soaked and flushed with adrenaline. 

You’d raced down from the bleachers to hug him, breathless, laughing. 

He held you like he couldn’t believe the world let him be this happy.

“I wanna be the kind of player little kids can look up to,” he said. “The kind of person who inspires someone to dream.”

You remember how his voice sounded that day—bright, certain, good.

A hero.

He said it like it was the only thing he ever wanted.

And now, watching him crack his knuckles in silence, watching the way he carries himself like he’s at war with the world and always losing—you wonder what happened to that boy.

Because sometimes you look at him now and—

You don’t see a hero anymore.

You see someone hardened by the fire he tried to walk through.

You see someone who once wanted to be a beacon… but somewhere along the way, forgot what light looked like.

He’s not cruel. He doesn’t hurt you—not with hands, not with words.

But you see how he turns inward when things don’t go his way. You feel the distance when you reach for him and he doesn’t quite reach back.

And when he lashes out—at the world, at himself—you don’t see a savior.

You see someone lost in the rubble of a dream that devoured him.

You whisper once, when his back is to you, voice barely audible:

“I think you wanted to save everyone so badly, you forgot to save yourself.”

He doesn’t turn around.

And you don’t say it out loud, but you carry the truth like glass in your throat:

You didn’t want to watch him become the very thing he swore he’d fight against.

But here you are.

It ends on a Sunday.

He’s lying on your couch, shirtless and quiet, staring at the ceiling like it holds answers. You sit beside him, fingers curled in your lap, too afraid to reach for his hand.

“Do you still love me?” you ask.

He doesn’t look at you.

“I never stopped.”

But the words fall heavy. Cold. Like he’s reading them from a script he doesn’t believe in anymore.

You nod.

Then you whisper, “You don’t love me. Not really. You love who I was when you loved yourself.”

He flinches.

And for the first time in a long time, he doesn’t argue.

When he leaves the next morning, he kisses your forehead like goodbye.

And you don’t cry until the door clicks shut.

Because he was your first love.

Because you thought maybe, just maybe, love could be enough.

But the truth is—he’s haunted by too much. 

Anger curled inside him like a storm, always waiting to break. 

The boy you loved died somewhere in Blue Lock, and the man who came back only wears his face.

You fell in love with a ghost.

And ghosts don’t stay.

i hate this one. but i think post-wild card kuni is such a hard character to write for so i'm giving myself some grace.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

❀ tags: ❀ @kenyuukissme ❀ @irethepotato ❀ @kiyy0mei ❀ @x3nafix ❀ @sugacor3 ❀ @ohagiyo ❀ @reigensuperstar ❀ @nevvynevnev ❀ join the taglist here !

⋆.˚✮ 2025 ©airybcby ✮˚.⋆

[lover-of-mine]

Hello and welcome to Anna thinks they just kickstarted Eddie's queer arc and *coldplay starts to play* it was all yellow (and blue). (metas on the blue and yellow here and here if you feel like reading)

I feel like at this point I have made the point that I think Eddie's queer arc is gonna be yellow where Buck's was blue very clear (post on that here, more on the theory applied to buddie here), so I'm watching for any amount of blue or yellow around Eddie. The whole thing comes back to the way 704 is very blue and yellow and the climax of Buck's bi arc, the coming out scene since it's the one scene Buck chooses to come out, is also blue and yellow, but Buck himself is blue.

This actually starts in the locker room in 701 tho, but we have established that Buck is blue, so they are in the wrong colors. They're also in the wrong colors during the will reveal, which is interesting if they follow through it this particular symbolism the way I'm expecting them to.

The will reveal is interesting because they don't match their backgrounds the way Buck does in the coming out scene, but the backgrounds have the right colors, but I digress.

The thing is, the thing that I keep waiting to happen, happened. The sandy yellow shirt. Something about Buck's journey to blue, is that he is in darker shades of blue while Eddie is in neutral tones, mostly black, until he reaches a shade of blue that's basically the color of Oliver's eyes, so it's a brighter color.

So my working theory is that Eddie is gonna mirror that, and we will have Buck in neutral tones while Eddie finds his golden yellow, that right now I'm 90% positive will be the shade behind him in the coming out scene, but Eddie's arc will be lighter shades working up to the darker ones. And this is a promising start.

But I wanna talk about Eddie's arc on the episode. Because his arc is blue and yellow, but he's drowning in blue. Which is the wrong color. And not just because the uniforms are blue.

Something in particular that's intriguing me is the fact that they changed the waiting room of the hospital, so it is yellowish now, where it used to be a more neutral blue color.

Something else is the fact that this is the school from 504, an episode called home and away, that has "you're the guy who likes to fix things" conversation, where we actually discuss the way blood family knows you differently than a significant other. So we have a few s5 callbacks going on, and I feel like this will be a pattern, even though I don't think Eddie is in route for another full breakdown, I think deconstructing parts of who he is will have a lot of callbacks to his s5 arc.

The dialogue of the ambulance scene is very interesting too, because Eddie is talking about fixing someone's heart in less-than-ideal circumstances, and he actually manages to pull it off after some struggle. I'm probably reading too much into it, but the fifty/fifty on 2 attempts is making me 👀 because if we take this to the more metaphorical possible Eddie and his own heart, unless we are talking Buck, he failed all times, but it interesting to think Shannon vs Buck since Ana and Marisol where superficial relationships. Considering what we know, how young he was and the way his relationship with Shannon got to serious to fast vs the way Buck squeezed his way into his life and Eddie did take some leaps of faith in less than ideal conditions, I can see a symbolism hidden there.

The talk with Bobby is also interesting because of the whole yellowish setting and the implication that the issue can be traced to the mustache, and since we know the mustache is gonna be important for Eddie's character in the following episodes.

But the thing that had me screaming was actually the shop scene. I wrote a meta on this (you can read it here) but 911 uses blue and red for parenting issues. And the shop, the car the dad is working on, and the equipment are blue and red. And that makes sense, they are talking about parenting. Eddie is there as a father, at least at first.

And all of this is happening while Eddie is in white.

After they go outside, while Eddie is talking about being a father in a more detached manner, he is surrounded by the blue and red, even though the chair is yellow.

But while the dad is talking about his struggle understanding his kid, he is blue and yellow. This is interesting even though I don't want to sit here and say that Weston is queer just based on the fact that he's a cheerleader, because yes, the blue and yellow is used for Buck, but is also used for henren, and if we expand on the 911verse, it is also used for tarlos, so the metaphor there.

And attached to all the struggles Eddie has expectations that were placed on him, and specifically 517 where Eddie talks about his father not wanting to seem weak, and how that obviously affected the way Eddie grew up and how he moves on to defending Weston by saying he survived something he knows soldiers who wouldn't, we have something here. Because we don't have the focus on the red anymore once Eddie starts talking.

The green elements of the scene are interesting in the same way I said the orange is interesting about the birthday party (read that one here). Eddie is a green character, I feel like a lot of us associate him with army green, but if I'm right about the color theory we have going, Eddie can't live his life as a secondary color. That's where getting to his yellow comes in.

Eddie needs to move on from that. We talked a lot about the green army armor, with that jacket he wears when Shannon dies and when he leaves the 118 (first 2 pictures up here) so he needs to stop hiding behind the green. And the green is there, but it is out of focus, it's not supposed to be the main thing even tho it does take a lot of space in Eddie's frame. Mostly because you can see the yellow very clearly behind the dad, but not the green car behind Eddie, the edges are blending, which is good. He is moving in the right direction.

He also ends the episode drowning in blue again, which, yk, wrong color.

He's also in the same color he was in 506 after the whole kidnapping and yet another moment Eddie risks everything because there's a kid involved. But this time he can't go home to his kid. Someone give him Chris back right now (set on this parallel here).

So, since Buck's queer arc was blue and yellow, and Eddie just started an arc with those, I am choosing to believe they just kickstarted Eddie's queer arc.

That's all for today, if you read this I love you 💜

taglist (interact with this post if you wanna be tagged, or send me a message, just let me know):

@sparkedblaze @hermioneindisguise @eddiedisasterdiaz @mosaicstardust @stagefoureddiediaz @kejfeblintz @glasscities @angelcamael @sparkedblaze @caw-salem @dreamofsomepiphany @100ceruleaneyes @linus-lucy @chaosqueery @gina-spike @chimchiminie98 @elvensorceress @dangerpronebuddie @ijustdontlikepeople @182daysof @steadfastsaturnsrings @sparklespiff @inell @joshwritesfics @lunarsolar1 @dingdongfries @wolfdeans @jesuisici33 @miles--to--go @hopefuldreamers-world

[ludolka]

“So what happens now?” An Activity detected gribeans fanfic

I’m going insane over @wren-kitchens ‘s fanfic based on my previous comic (it’s so good, everyone go read it now !! ) I had to write a continuation to it and finally give these two a happy ending. I hope it’s alright that I wrote this with your fic in mind, Wren 👉🏻👈🏻

Summary; Joel has a “talk” with Birdie then he gets his shit together to finally actually talk to Grian about his feelings, their situation and how to go forward

Word count; 3722

It took a while for Joel to be able to fall asleep. His eyes strung from crying and his head hurt like he was hungover. The constant dull burning ache on his chest ever since he “ended” things with Grian wasn’t helping. He briefly wondered if Grian’s symbol burnt like that too, if that was something that connected them. Before falling asleep he thought of Birdie, how this would change what was going on between them. A part of him just assumed he’d never see him again, that’d make sense with how closely Birdie and Grian were connected. He knew that if he did end up meeting Birdie again, he’d have to “break up” with him as well, he couldn’t continue having a relationship in his dreams with the man he just ended things with in real life. That’d hurt too much and wouldn’t help him move on. He just wasn’t sure how ready he was for a second heartbreak in the matter of a single night. He wasn’t sure how Birdie would take the news or if he had already known and how the whole symbol thing was going to play out moving forward. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to see Birdie for a while, he didn’t know if he had enough willpower to reject him as well, someone who was always so open about loving him back

He opened his eyes in the white void and sighed, collecting himself mentally before looking around for Birdie. And when he saw Birdie he knew this would go down a lot messier and more complicated than it did with Grian. Birdie was fuming, Joel hadn’t seen such raw fury on someone before. His eyes looked like they were actually glowing and his piercing stare felt like daggers. His usually light purple wings were a different shade of purple now as well, darker and more blue. Joel’s symbol burnt under his shirt

“You are an idiot! A cowardly idiot!”

He yelled and Joel flinched at the volume, the words were making his head hurt and spin. And seeing Birdie be so offensive instead of how passively defensive Grian was, it made Joel angry once again and get into an equally offensive position

“Cowardly? Me? Do you even hear yourself?! Tell that to him, he was being a fucking coward! I did what I had to do!”

Joel yelled back and took some steps closer, subconsciously trying to appear more intimidating by towering over Birdie. Grian looked so small and fragile earlier that night as he basically collapsed onto himself, but no matter how the two had the same height and build, Birdie looked anything, but small and fragile. He looked like he could take on a man double his size and win without breaking a sweat

“You didn’t have to do any of that! What the fuck was even your problem? Wanting your life back? Don’t make me laugh, how could you want honesty from him when you can’t even be honest yourself?!”

Joel’s eye twitched and he felt like punching him. Birdie’s condescending tone and intense eye contact sure felt like he was challenging Joel to punch him

“Yes, I want my life back! I can’t forever just be a fucking puppy, following him around everywhere! Where am I in all of this?! I don’t want to always push myself to the side and only take his feelings into consideration! I wanted to have an honest conversation with him, but he’s too much of a coward to even do that!”

Joel’s anger was rising with each word and he felt good letting everything out that he has been holding in for so long. Birdie’s wings were spread out and puffed up and he glared up at Joel

“Why are you telling me this?! Tell him! You want a conversation, but all you managed to tell him was that “you couldn’t do this anymore” and “it had to end”? Where’s the honesty in that?! You haven’t even tried to tell him about your dreams or your symbol or you going behind my back to get information on me from a stranger! You’re just as much of a coward as he is! I’m asking you once again, how can you expect honesty from him when you can’t be honest in return?”

Joel stopped for a moment, his mind freezing up. So Birdie knew about his conversation with Cleo, but hasn’t brought it up since then. And even in his anger, he had to accept Birdie had a point. It was like his words were directly put in Joel’s mind as they were, leaving no room for misinterpretation. But before he could make a rebuttal, Birdie continued, getting closer and jamming a finger into Joel’s chest

“You know he can’t be honest because of his shame for who he is. But you already fucking know who he is, who I am. Maybe you should have started with that instead of throwing a temper tantrum if you wanted a conversation”

Birdie wasn’t yelling anymore, but his unsettlingly calm and icy tone was somehow worse. Admittedly Joel hasn’t realized the thing that held Grian back was something he already knew and accepted. It just never clicked for him. And he wanted to yell something back, he wasn’t even sure what, just to get his anger out, but the next thing he knew he opened his eyes in his bedroom

He briefly thought about how this was the first time Birdie just kicked him out of his own dream, but his mind was too focused on what was going on in his body. He could barely breathe, he felt like he was suffocating as he sat up and hyperventilated while clutching his shirt. He has never had a panic attack before, but this was what one must have felt like. He genuinely thought he was having a heart attack and dying. His symbol burnt under his shirt

He let out a bitter, miserable laugh while still trying to even out his breathing, thinking about Cleo’s words of gods not taking breakups well and how this all felt like petty punishment for him choosing himself for once

Even after calming down and the suffocating feeling going away, this sinking feeling of dread didn’t leave him and the burning didn’t subside either. He felt awful, much worse than before he fell asleep. He was sitting outside on his balcony and picked up his phone to look at the time. It was 4:13 am. He wasn’t sure how long he’s been awake or sitting outside, just smoking one cigarette after another, but he still felt like exploding. He felt like he needed to do something, anything. Maybe go on a run or drive wherever the fastest he could before he ran out of gas or got pulled over for speeding

He kept looking back at his phone, his lockscreen being a stupid picture he took of Grian really not helping how he was feeling. He felt guilty, oh so guilty, but also completely justified. He was also very much missing Grian, regardless of how their last fight or his meeting with Birdie went. If they wanted to continue being friends or at least be on friendly terms, he should maybe at least apologize. Birdie’s words continued to ring in his head and he couldn’t help, but feel like he didn’t even give Grian a chance at a honest conversation, which he still wanted to have despite everything. The part of him that was still very much in love with Grian still held out hope that they could fix this. The other part of him hated himself for this

It took another half an hour before he called Grian. He didn’t just want to send him a text, that would have felt too impersonal. He wasn’t sure if Grian would even pick up so early in the morning, but his phone beeped after the fourth ring

“Yes?”

Joel bit his lip at how Grian sounded, so exhausted and emotionless. He was already regretting calling Grian, but he couldn’t just turn back now

“Hey. I wanted to talk”

He looked at the cigarette in his hand, the ash burning and dropping at its end while he waited for Grian to reply

“Alright”

Joel could feel his temper rising again, he hated how he was expected to do all the talking and explaining because Grian was upset and that made him not want to give more than one or two worded answers

“I wanted to apologize for yelling at you, but I stand by what I said. As much as I love you, I don’t like feeling like a side character in my own life. I can’t wait forever for you to make up your mind about what you want. I shouldn’t have yelled, but feeling so out of control over my own life made me explode”

“I’m sorry. I understand what having no control over your own life feels like, it makes one act out”

Joel hummed and he felt a bit surprised that Grian was willing to talk a bit more openly than before. Maybe Birdie was right about openly talking instead of yelling. He couldn’t help, but feel a bit annoyed at what Grian said though, Grian seemingly had perfect control over his life and everything went according to how he wanted it to

“I want you to be honest with me, but I’ve realized I need to be completely honest with you for that as well”

Joel could feel Grian’s nervousness over the phone, but he just gave an affirmative hum, signing to Joel to continue. Joel took a long puff of his cigarette before talking again, metaphorically ripping off the bandaid

“I know who you are. Or well not exactly, I don’t know details about who exactly you are, but I know enough. I know that you’re a vessel or a god, whichever, doesn’t matter, I know about the symbol on your thigh and I have the same symbol on my chest. It’s been burning all night. This is why you can’t be honest and open with me, right? Because of this?”

Joel tried to keep his voice as steady as he could. He wanted to go on and tell Grian about his dreams and Birdie and the kind of relationship they had, but he waited for Grian’s response first. Grian went silent for a while and Joel had to check he didn’t just hang up, but after a while he heard quick breathing. Joel briefly thought about maybe ripping the bandaid off wasn’t the best way to go about this, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much. If Grian still ran, then he’d let him and wouldn’t chase after him. He however felt some gratitude when the burning subsided a bit. He had to remind himself that while Birdie couldn’t necessarily talk, he was still always listening

“I- how- how do you know that?”

Grian’s voice cracked and it was now filled with a lot more emotion than before. Joel thought he sounded panicked and he had to hold his phone away from his ear a bit when the line loudly crackled

“You uh.. or well your god has been visiting me in my dreams for some months now. He told me who he was and gave me this symbol. I didn’t believe him until I woke up with it. He visited me tonight to yell at me then gave me a panic attack when I woke up”

Joel had an emotionless smile as he said that last sentence. He took a puff of his cigarette again as he waited for Grian to respond again. The whole situation seemed so absurd to him, with how casually he was talking about this. He really has come a long way, he really now thought of Birdie being a god as something completely normal and mundane

“I.. I can’t have this conversation over the phone. Could you come over?”

Joel noted how out of his element Grian sounded. He sounded so powerless and uncertain. This was also the first time Grian has asked Joel to come over to his place. They never went there, only to Joel’s. Joel has only ever been inside Grian’s place once and that was only for a short time with other people present. He thought for a bit, knowing this would only turn out bad with him going back on his word because Grian looked at him a certain way that made him feel bad, but he agreed in the end

In half an hour Joel was outside Grian’s door, knocking. He didn’t even bother to get changed from how he slept, he was in his boxers and just threw on a hoodie he found on the ground to not be shirtless at least. Grian opened the door and let him in, leading him in his room after he took his shoes off. Once sitting on his bed, Joel tried his hardest not to stare at Grian’s face, whose eyes were on the floor and who looked like he was grieving with puffy eyes and cheeks. And for once Joel didn’t want to be the one to start the conversation, so he waited until Grian spoke

“So.. you know. How long?”

His voice was still quiet and raspy and he refused to look at Joel

“Some months. But I’ve only known for sure for two weeks”

Joel felt so tired and powerless by that point, this night really has taken the fight out of him. But by the looks of it, Grian was feeling the same

“Why haven’t you told me?”

There was no accusation or emotion behind his question, but Joel could see his expression shift as he most likely tried to keep his feelings under control. Joel could even swear he saw Grian’s eye color change to purple for a second or two

“I wanted to wait until you told me. But I feel like that would have meant I would have had to wait until I died”

“He has been visiting you in your dreams? What is he like?”

Joel decided to ignore how Grian ignored what he said. He thought for a moment on how to answer that question

“He’s a lot like you, but more open and expressive. He looks like you too, just with wings and purple eyes. He loves me or well loved me, I don’t know anymore. I love him too”

Joel bitterly thought about that last part and sighed. He couldn’t just be expected to get over his feelings in a couple of hours, he knew how that took at least months. He slightly raised an eyebrow at the change in Grian at that. He finally looked up at Joel and furrowed his brows

“You love him”

Now that sounded accusing and Joel heard a hint of concealed anger behind it. He felt a bit confused why this part was upsetting Grian

“I do”

Joel kept the eye contact and Grian’s expression darkened. He got reminded of Birdie with the way Grian was staring at him, piercing eyes regardless of color

“Why? Why do you love him?”

Grian bit his lip to stop himself from saying more, but there was such anger and hatred when he referred to Birdie that confused Joel. Birdie always talked either in a neutral or positive way about Grian, always talking like while they were in different bodies, they were still one team. Grian sounded like even the thought of Birdie was venomous, like he was someone completely different and separate from himself

“Why, are you jealous?”

Grian glared at Joel before turning away again. He didn’t even need to say anything for Joel to know that was indeed the case. He found this rather amusing, he has had a conversation with Birdie before about cheating and boundaries and Birdie laughed at the concept of him being jealous of Joel kissing or doing more with Grian. Birdie asked Joel how could he possibly be jealous of himself, how silly that would be. So he took Grian’s chin in his hand and turned him to face him again

“Why are you jealous of yourself? He sees himself as an extension of you. I love him because he’s you. Besides, you can’t be jealous of who I love when you won’t even have me”

The irony of Grian being jealous while not even willing to kiss Joel when they are sober wasn’t lost on him. Not that he could blame him for being jealous like this, he himself would freak out if Grian told him he loved someone else. Grian glared at him for a bit longer before he sprung to action. He got his head out of Joel’s hold and leaned over to Joel, smashing their lips together. Joel was so surprised he didn’t even react, he just blinked. Grian pulled back after a couple of seconds and stared up at Joel with the same intense, angry eyes he saw on Birdie

“We aren’t drunk”

Joel breathed out the same thing Grian told him before. He was pretty sure Grian was sober at least and he himself had nothing to drink. The whiplash was strong with Grian’s actions and behavior. Maybe Birdie was right about this being the thing that held Grian back and now that dam is broken, the floodgates are open

“I don’t care”

Grian pulled Joel back, kissing him again and this time Joel kissed back. The kiss was full of hunger and raw emotion and Joel noted how much better it felt sober than drunk. His hands quickly found Grian’s sides, sliding his hands under his shirt to hold his skin and Grian’s arms were wrapped around Joel’s shoulders with his hands in his hair. They pulled away after a while for air, but didn’t move from their position

“I should make you jealous more often”

Joel laughed after his panting died down and Grian kissed him again

“Don’t you dare”

Was said between kisses and Joel was so caught up in the feeling and the sensation of the situation that he didn’t even realize his symbol has completely stopped burning

-

He woke up some hours later in Grian’s bed with Grian’s body pressed close to his. He yawned and when he looked over, he saw Grian was already awake and looking at him

“Mornin’, princess”

He gave a light squeeze to Grian’s waist where one of his arms were and he looked back up at the ceiling, his head resting comfortably on the pillow. He felt a bit awkward and uncertain, he wasn’t sure how this morning would play out after the rollercoaster ride last night was. He was half expecting Grian to go back to their old dynamic and pretend like nothing happened. He felt like he could cry at that very real possibility. He wasn’t sure how he could go through with breaking things off again after everything that was said and done last night, he wasn’t sure if he had the willpower for that, but he knew he wouldn’t survive going back to only drunk kissing when he now knew what the real deal was like

But before he got too deep into his head, he felt Grian nuzzle his face against his neck

“I can hear you think, stop it. It’s too early for that”

Grian’s muffled voice sounded much more like his usual voice than last night’s. Joel slightly smiled at the teasing before he furrowed his eyebrows and turned his head in Grian’s direction. But before he could say anything, Grian beat him to it

“No, I can’t actually hear your thoughts. I’m not a mind reader, you know”

That wasn’t exactly convincing and Joel furrowed his eyebrows more when Grian lifted his head and giggled at him. He relaxed a bit and just stared at Grian for a bit, whose giggling has died down and he tilted his head to the side. Things felt so familiar and comfortable like before, but now without that dull suffocating feeling that always followed. It felt like the veil was lifted

“So what now? How do we go forward?”

Joel didn’t feel like having a repeat of last night’s conversation with Grian playing dumb and oblivious. He desperately hoped Grian was willing to openly answer this question now without the games

“Well, how do you want to go forward? I’ll have you if you’ll have me. If that’s still what you want. You matter in this equation too, I shouldn’t make this decision myself”

Joel felt like he could cry happy tears at that answer. Not only was Grian finally being direct for once in his fucking life, Joel also felt like he had a say in what happened. He felt like he could get on his knees to thank both his past self for that initial phone call at 5 am and Birdie for yelling some sense into him

“I want an actual relationship”

Grian nodded, but he seemed a little uncertain, his previous confidence flailing a bit. He bit his lip as looked at Joel. But for once Joel didn’t take this uncertainty as a sign for rejection, he thought they were past that

“I haven’t been in a relationship before”

Joel couldn’t help, but laugh and Grian looked away, flustered and clearly embarrassed. He pulled Grian closer. He wouldn’t have known how inexperienced Grian was in relationships based on how Birdie acted, Birdie’s nature seemed to be of a spoiled needy boyfriend’s

“That’s alright, baby, I have. I’ll show you how to do it”

He teased and laughed again at Grian getting redder at the nickname. Grian just watched Joel calm down from laughing and he had such a soft expression that Joel felt like he was falling in love all over again

“Alright, then boyfriends it is. But don’t expect me to be all lovey dovey and romantic”

And with that Grian leaned in and kissed Joel. It wasn’t like the ones from last night or when they were drunk. It was gentle and simple. Joel couldn’t understand how they had to make things so difficult for themselves for months, dancing around each other when it could have been this simple the whole time

“Boyfriends it is”

[skeletonh0e]

Under his Spell

Similar to Fresh I noticed a STAGGERING lack of Nightmare smut so here I am yet again, plus I demand soft dom Nightmare. Fem Reader with she/her pronouns, AFAB anatomy. Implied that the reader and Nightmare are a thing already dating, but it's vague enough that you can interpret their relationship however. Hypnosis, power play, overstimulation, praise kink + minor degradation, some possessiveness, tentacles (obviously), minor size kink if you squint ig. Everything is consensual but due to the nature of hypno kinks there are some dub con elements so continue cautiously if that's not your thing. I wrote this at the spur of a moment so again apologies if there's more spelling errors than usual.

MINORS DNI

"You're certain you wish to do this?"

"Yes, c'mon, how many times do I have to tell you that I trust you?"

Another moment where Nightmare simply put, does not get you. No one in their right mind would put this much trust in him, he's not even sure if he trusts himself that much. Yet right now you might as well be putting out a steak on a silver platter to a very hungry wolf.

"Yes, but there is no going back once I start. You won't be able to say no." it's worded like a reprimand, squint and you miss maybe a hint of concern being shown for you. Your body endeared by it, but you knew better than to press it.

"I know. And. I. Trust. You." you assure, which while that statement was true you were honestly a bit intrigued by Nightmare's truly darker side. It was part of the reason it was so much fun to give him this level of control over you. "Don't tell me the great King of Negativity is being chicken."

"Ha, ha, ha, you know better than to mock me." a deep breath is taken, if all apprehensions are put aside. "Very well, ready then?"

You nod, "Always."

He grips your chin, it's firm enough to guide your face to keep your gaze directly focused on him but gentle enough you could break through it if you wanted to. Not that you did. "Keep your eyes on me," he instructed, that single cyan pupil starting to radiate a strange energy. His magic was always so strange to you, you couldn't even try to understand it, but damned if you didn't enjoy it's many perks.

It's hard to tell if it's simple the effects coming in full force or if the eye actually changes shape as it seems to shift into a delicious spiral. Your gaze is further fixating on it, waves of relaxation starting to hit your body.

"That's a good girl, submit." he assured, voice deliciously sweet right now.

And your utter submission he had.

Your eyes became hazy, your entire body slumping as all tension soon leaves your form. Any noisy thoughts that left your brain instantly shushed, only thing you could focus on what his eye and his voice.

"You make it so easy for me," he cooed, the sight of you like this was always an engaging one. The way your mind went dumb, the way you looked at him, and the utter power he had over you was something else entirely. Tentacles start to snake across your form, your body pushed back onto the nearby bed as he takes his time in groping you. Looming over you the entire time, your eyes never once leaving his own. "I couldn't ask for a better plaything, now, could I? No one would be this good for me."

It's always amusing how red your face gets, doesn't seem to better how deep of a trance you're put in or how many times you two do this. You always get flustered. You weren't really properly dressed to begin with, pajamas loosely clanged to your form and his tendrils make sure to quickly dispose of your shirt. A sharp gasp escaping you as your bottoms were quickly worked to be removed, one of those black inky things accidentally brushing over your folds.

"No underwear at all?" he asked, clearly amused as the bottoms are dragged down your legs. "Really were eager tonight, weren't you pet?"

God damn that little nickname (or pet name you guessed would be more appropriate), you feel your hips trembling.

"Answer me." his tone was still dotting, but firmer this time.

"Yes." you answer, truthfully while you were like this he could ask you to bark then you'd do it. But this was the truth, you wanted this tonight. You didn't want to think about anything else. You wanted to be his little fuck doll tonight.

Nightmare took good care of his toys too, even when playing rough.

"Good girl," he hummed, your reward for that. "Now, keep being good for me and spread your legs."

You comply, several of his tentacles still on you but not quite gripping you though if Nightmare changed his mind he could easily have all of them restrain you in seconds. Your back naturally arches, your legs moving to either side of the mattress.

"Come now, wider, I want to see all of you."

You tremble, but comply. Your thighs flexing a bit, you move to further arch your hips as well. Nightmare clearly pleased with the sight.

"There we are, good girl, my good girl," there's almost a growl in his voice, lord above he'd kill anyone who'd ever even get close to seeing you like this. The display is utterly divine, you completely helpless underneath him, your pretty pink wet cunt on full display, and the sheer amount of control he has nearly makes him drunk.

The things he could do to you, the way you'd only be able to lay back and take it, the fact you'd all enjoy it too. He's already hard, he ignored the feeling of his erection before but it was impossible to do so now.

Clothes are being undone, but he keeps talking.

"So wet, all wet for me, how long were you thinking about this?"

You tremble, body needy but your mind utterly compliance. Couldn't even touch yourself, not unless he ordered you to. You had to be a good girl and wait. "A-All day," you admit.

"All day?" his chuckle echoes through the room, "You desperate little thing, what exactly were you hoping for? My cock inside you? My tentacles inside you? Or maybe you wanted me to abuse that pretty mouth of yours?"

"All of it." you rasped out, "All of it, all of it, all of it," you repeated dumbly.

He makes a sound akin to a tsk, it would have embarrassed you if you weren't so utterly wrapped up in this trance right now. "My slutty little plaything, what am I going to do with you?"

It's a trick question, he has concocted several plans in his mind for tonight. It's unclear where it'll end but it'll start here for sure, you feel something hard press against your needy entrance. You know what it is. You know what's about to happen. And the way your insides twist with pure need.

That's when he whispers devilishly in your ear, "While I figure that out, what you're going to do is scream nice and loud for me. Don't you even think about holding back. Got?"

Sure, his servants and underlings might hear but honestly? Good. The one thing that should definitely come out of these sessions was the undeniable claim he had over you. How good he could pleasure you. How much control he had and would continue to have over you. His.

"Yes sir," you uttered out, never one to bother with overly formal titles but that went out the window when you were like this.

"Good girl." that was all the warning you got before he slammed into you full force. The tentacles no longer being lax in their hold as they clamp down on you, restraining your body not only preventing you from being able to squirm much but as well as raising you up in the air slightly.

The scream you make as your pussy is violently intruded is loud, painfully lewd sounding. He was big, not to the point that taking him was painful (your natural arousal prevented that for the most part anyway), but the way he stretched you out was always so intoxicating. Especially when he got all rough like this. Your pussy barely having time to adjust before the tentacles pulled you back then slammed you back down on his cock. Nightmare synchronizing his thrusts with the way you were repeatedly through down on his thick shaft.

Your mewls and moans are loud. Nightmare lets out a series of soft grunts, voice always managing to sound so composed even as he breaks you on his cock. "Fuuuuck you're always so nice and tight for me, perhaps I should keep you here? My personal pleasure toy to use whenever, wouldn't even have to bother keeping you restrained. Because-"

A series of particularly harsh thrusts come, one making you see stars as it perfectly hit your g-spot. You highly doubt it was coincidence either, Nightmare mapped out every inch of your body by now. "-you wouldn't be able to walk from everything I've done to you."

You definitely won't be able in the morning, a problem for another day. You cry out in pleasure, but your body's response keeps him all the confirmation that he needs. The way your little pussy clenches around him briefly at the mention of those words.

"Such a good girl," he purrs, he takes a moment, only a moment to rearrange himself before thrusting himself in again at the same rapid pace. This time hitting your g-spot maliciously with each hard thrust and the scream that it earns while you yell out his name is music to his non-existent ears. You writhe around, as much as you're allowed to like this. It was by instinct then by anything else, the intensity quickly overwhelming your senses as-

"Now, now, I said no holding back." It would have been frustrating how composed he remained if it also wasn't so fucking arousing. "Cum for me."

You're not given much of a choice, especially as you're slammed down and the way the head of cock hits your g-spot full force sends you over the edge. You scream out his name again, your orgasm hitting you violently. Your cunt attempts to milk Nightmare dry for all he's worth as he just keeps going, your fluids practically baptizing his shaft.

A groan does escape him, feeling you perfectly you squeeze him. It only encourages him to make you keep doing it, speed and intensity increasing. Tentacles still keep you in place but some taking stride to grope you. Nightmare's hand going to pinch your clit as he keeps his movements up.

"Again," he demands, the reckless abandon as his thrusts being further empathized by just how oversensitive it is. Not even being given a chance to recover, the only thing you can do is whine. "Good little toys do as their told and I want you to cum again, you will cum again."

And you do. The words, his thrusts, his movements, you scream again as another orgasm rocks through you. You can swear it feels like the room is staring to spin and it's an utterly amazing feeling.

"That's it, just like that, that's it, good girl. My good little cocksleeve, fuck-" he's not gonna last long if he keeps this up. Not that he plans to stop this at one round, far from that. However, he wants to full you cum on his cock one more time before he does. "Who do you belong to?"

"Y-You."

"Stop holding back, don't make me tell you again. Say it, who do you belong to?"

"YOU!" you scream.

"Say my name."

"NIGHTMARE! I BELONG TO YOU NIGHTMARE! I-"

There's a surprisingly low sounding moan as you cum against, especially as a near feral growls erupts out of Nightmare as he finishes inside you. The fingers pinching your cilt nearly painful as he prolongs the feeling, his hips giving a few sputtering thrusts both to make sure he gives you every last drop and fuck his own seed deeper into you.

It takes him a moment before he speaks again, instead opting to simply play with your clit. No longer pinching it, but instead slowly rolling his thumb over it. You're so overstimulated and lost in the pleasure you might just cum a fourth time from the simple movements. But he doesn't you to, not just yet anyway.

And your body has to comply.

He stops and pulls out, his tentacles shifting you so that your chest is pressed right onto the bed beneath you and your ass is in the air right on display for him. The entity giving it as a hard smack as he does so, it stings and is sure to leave a mark.

"Hope you didn't think you'd get off so easily pet,"

You didn't. You actually hoped it didn't. But you simply whimper pathetically underneath him, as you feel him lining up with your entrance again. Some of his cum trickling down your tights, hands firmly on your ass. It's unclear whether he plans to insert anything in there or simply smack then watch it bounce as he rails into it again. Doesn't matter, not up to you right now anyway.

"Ready?" he knows the answer, doesn't change the fact he loves hearing your response.

"Always."

[ljubimaya]

˙⋆⊹.꒷꒦꒷ 𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐇

SYNOPSIS: Waking up in the pool of your own blood was the worst way for you to wake up to, and just like the start, the day progressed just as terribly. Lucky for you, you have a vampire boyfriend who's more than willing to make the pain go away C/W: afab! reader, vampire! Baji, aged up characters (18+), period and mentions of period symptoms, mention of blood (duh), consumption of blood (duh 2x), cunnilingus during period, a little dubcon-ish at the beginning but reader later on gets into it, a tiny bit of coercion, technically monster fucking, Baji has a long tongue (like fruit bats), established relationship, petnames (baby), not proof read if I missed smth lmk <3333 W/C: 2.9k+ A/N: It's been some time since I wrote something :,) truth be told I wanted to write this during my last period but I physically couldn't bc I was in such pain :,) either way, this is super self-indulgent and inspired by a conversation I had with my lovely friend @avatarofstars. Thank you for being my enabler ily so much <33

It would have been a lie to say things started off innocent- they never do with Baji. 

Cold calloused fingers trace random shapes on your thigh as you sat uncomfortably next to him. You and your boyfriend were wrapped in fluffy blankets, snuggling close to one another as the TV illuminated the dark living room. Fatigued, you laid your head on Baji’s shoulder as you continued watching the movie with him. You were getting tired, especially after the long day you had today. Waking up grumpy and hurting, you found your bed sheets and panties stained with blood. Of course you would get your period unexpectedly after changing the sheets the night prior and wearing your favorite pair of panties to bed. 

For you, the day was already ruined before it even started. Everything else that followed suit could only be described as an unfortunate domino effect: You changed your sheets and frantically searched for any pain meds, resulting in you coming late to work and getting into an argument with your colleague. To make matters worse you were searching for your pain meds for nothing, since you’ve used them all up on your last period and forgot to stock up on them again. And so, you were left to work with no way to alleviate your pain, both physical and mental as the fight with your colleague and the tense atmosphere were only adding to your mental distress. But you pushed through with your day, knowing that after coming home from your hellish day, you would be able to spend the night with your boyfriend. 

Baji could only visit you at night. Being a vampire, the ravenette wouldn’t step outside during day-time, making the darker hours the only times he could spend some time with you. Your undead lover knew what to do when he saw your exhausted self walk through the door: he’d have to help you relax in the best way he could. Thus, the idea of a movie night was born. 

“You tired?” Baji asked softly when you laid your head on his shoulder. You could feel the coldness of his body radiate through his clothes, but you didn’t mind. You grew to love his icy cold skin along with his other unhuman traits. 

“Yeah, kinda” you whimpered as you felt a cramping pain in your abdomen. Unable to move due to the pain spreading to your lower back and legs, you tried to make yourself as comfortable as you could without moving too much “But my body hurts so much, I can’t even fall asleep” 

Baji turned his face to look at you, eyebrows knitted as he eyed your limp form lean against him. You felt the subtle shift of his body, but instead of facing your boyfriend your head remained nestled on his shoulder. He couldn’t see your face, but your tired tone and the overwhelming smell of your blood told him you were beyond spent. 

The ravenette didn’t know much about periods, let alone the pain that comes with it, but he knew enough to understand that this might have been the worst period you have had yet. He couldn’t bear to watch you suffer, to watch you lay still as if life has been drained of you. One part of him wanted to take care of you, to rub your tummy and make sure you get enough rest. 

The other part, the selfish, hungry part, wanted to rip off your shorts and dove his tongue inside your pussy. 

You were too fatigued to even think about the implications of being on your period and Baji, a monster of the night thriving off of blood, being close to you. Dating him meant you were aware of the risks and issues you might run into, and dating you meant he was prepared to keep his hunger at bay as much as he could. But he couldn’t not when your sweet blood was polling between your thighs. The smell was intoxicating Baji’s senses, challenging the man to keep his composure any longer. He would have had a much easier time resisting his primal instincts if his pants hadn’t grown unbearably tight. Maybe a little taste wouldn’t hurt?

“Hmm, I know something that would make you feel much better” Baji whispers into your ear, his voice deep and raspy from his restraint “You just gotta relax and let me work my magic. Can you do that for me?”

The predatory growl did not fly past you; you lightly shuddered when you heard it, suddenly feeling wide awake. Suddenly, you were very aware of who your boyfriend was and what he could do to you. Your stomach twisted in a knot, unable to tell if you were afraid or excited. 

Yet, you pulled yourself together. Maybe he was hinting towards something else, you tried to reason with yourself. Despite your best efforts, you knew your boyfriend too well.

So you swallowed, torn between reason and intuition, torn between fear and lust, mustering up all of your strength to lift your head and look at him. You whimpered as the pain shot through the lower half of your body, having moved your upper body with your head as you gazed into your lover’s eyes. Reddish brown eyes clouded with lust and want stared right back into yours, watching your every move intently. 

“kei, it’s fine really. It’s not my first and definitively not my last period. I’ll just tough it out” You vetoed, even though you wanted to rip your own uterus out. 

Baji scoffed, unwilling to accept your defiance “You don’t sound like you wanna tough it out. You sound like you wanna be taken care off, baby” 

With that, the vampire stood up from the couch and repositioned you gently. More whimpers of pain left your lips, a sweet melody to Baji’s sharp ears. This wasn’t the first time Baji was tasting your blood, far from it. You’d let him feed off of you from time to time whenever he was sure he wouldn’t go overboard and drink too much of your blood. He’s eaten you out plenty of times too, but waiting you out on your period - that would be a first for the both of you. So he’ll make sure to make it an experience of a lifetime. 

“Kei, wait-” you tried to stop him as he yanked your fuzzy blanket away, exposing you to the cool air of your living room. Baji had none of that, he didn’t want to hear any protests from you. The man kneeled down and took your shorts off a little too fast to your liking. 

“Keisuke, you know, maybe some rest would do me much better” You sheepishly murmured, heat shooting up to your face at the sight before you: Baji, on his knees between your thighs, strong hands holding your squirming legs in place, his gaze intense and the outline of his hard cock on his sweatpants….

Your boyfriend could only scoff at you, finding your idea to be not only dumb, but also offensive “Bullshit, baby. Nothing could do you better than me”

Cold lips wandered over your hot skin, seducing you to comply with his demand “C’mon, I just wanna make you feel better” Baji hoarsely, half lying, half telling you the truth. He did want to make the pain go away after all,  but your sweet blood and your cunt were calling to him. And who was he to deny your urges - even when you weren’t fully aware of them?

There was something so hot about Baji this assertive. While the vampire continued giving your inner thighs kisses, you began to wonder if maybe he was onto something. After all, you did have a long day, and you knew of the euphoria inducing bites your lover could give you. Perhaps tongue fucked by your boyfriend would make you feel better. Your gaze met his just as he sunk his canines into your soft flesh. Wimmers and gasps left your lips as Baji began sucking on your skin, letting the blood flood his mouth. You shut your eyes tightly at the sharp pain of his monstrous teeth digging themselves into your tender flesh. The pain faded and morphed into euphoria. 

One bite was all it took for you to take your mind off your abdominal pain, and one bite was all it took to fully break your resolve. 

Your eyes were still shut as you savored the exhilarating feeling you got from your lover’s bite. Baji continued to bite into your thigh, feasting on your blood as his bites trailed closer to your clothed cunt. He stopped, his hunger for your blood seemingly quenched. The man took a good look at your thighs; covered in bite marks, bruises blooming on your skin like wild cornflowers on a field. Truly a sight to behold. 

You were feeling a bit lightheaded. Baji was careful not to take too much blood from you - after all, he had to save room for dessert - but he still fed off you more than he usually would. Not that you could complain, you were no longer in pain and felt more relaxed.

“How are you feeling?” your boyfriend asked while he toyed with the lining of your velvety red panties. Finally, you opened your eyes.

“I’m feeling better now. Much better, actually” you mused “but I feel a bit dizzy, thanks to a certain glutton” you rolled your eyes teasingly and laughed lightly. A smirk formed on Baji’s lips as he heard your little insult, amused by your cheekiness. 

“Ah, I see you’re coherent enough to joke around. Good, means I didn’t take too much blood from you” Baji remarked in a husky tone “But I can make you feel even better. After all, I’m not done feasting on you”

With that, he bit the elastic band of your panty and slowly pulled the flimsy piece of clothing down to your ankles with his teeth, his sharp canines grazing your skin. A shiver ran down your spine as you intently watched the erotic scene unfold in front of you. Baji held your gaze the entire, hypnotized by your half lidded eyes and plump lips slightly parting. 

Baji threw your panties to the away, uncaring of where they would land. Opposite to his earlier movements, the vampire forcefully gripped the apex of your thighs and swung your legs over his shoulders. A surprised yelp left your lips as you were being repositioned to sit closer to the edge of the couch. Your back and head hit the backrest of the couch with a light thud. You wanted to glare at him, maybe even tell him to chill out, but the hungry gaze you were met with made you feel weak to your knees. 

Baji was practically on eye level with your cunt. Drenched in your own blood, your pussy looked as delicious as a cake being served on a silver platter to him. Baji licked his canines, licking the remaining droplets of your blood as his gaze switched from your pussy to your face. Despite being practically bare and feeling his icy cold hands gripping your thighs, you felt so damn hot; he made you feel hotter than the sun. 

“You’re not going to refuse me, are you?” He rasps out as he was mere centimeters away from your pussy. The vampire grinned as he saw you shaking your head unabashedly “I need words, baby. Tell me what you want, and don’t take too long to think-”

“I want you to eat me out” You admitted loud and clear, not a trace of shame in your tone or face; no, the way you said it was so bold yet desperate at the same time, as if you were begging him. Perhaps you were begging Baji to tongue fuck you, but your boyfriend saw no need to tease you any further. After all, your wish is his command, and he was aching to taste more of you. 

Baji stuck out his long tongue and lapped at your folds, groaning at the taste of your blood mixed with your arousal. His wet muscle traced your labia before easing inside your wet cavern. The vampire pushed his tongue inside slowly, making sure you were comfortable. His tongue wasn’t in any way thick, just thick enough to not hurt you when he’d thrust it in and out. 

Moans bubbled out your lips as your undead lover took his time tasting you. He savored every thrust, every droplet of your blood, every little sound you made. Baji's nose pressed against your clit as he sunk his tongue deeper between your velvety walls. The tip pressed snug against your g-spot, making your toes curl from sheer pleasure. 

Your eyes pressed shut when you threw your head back, hands finding your lover’s raven hair and grabbing them, pushing his face closer to your aching core. And while Baji loved that you embraced the pleasure, he grew frustrated.  

Reddish brown eyes, half lidded and clouded with lust, watched your trembling form fighting yourself from releasing too soon. He pulled away, making you whine in protest. You looked down on him, eyebrows knitted in confusion and frustration as you managed to stutter out “W-why did you stop all of a sudden?”

Baji’s lower face was covered in your blood, a sight that made you feel excited and hot “I want you to look at me” he breathed out ruggedly, his lips deathly close to your nether lips “Don’t look away when I fuck my tongue into you. Don’t close your eyes, keep them on me” Biting your lower lip, you hesitantly nodded, unsure if you would be able to keep your promise, but God were you determined to keep it. 

So Baji thrusted his tongue back inside, this time a bit more forceful. You yelped at his roughness before your moans of pain soothed into frantic moans of need. You needed him to make you cum, and you needed it to be as hard and nasty as he could give it to you. 

Your fingers raked his hair, pulling on his locks hard when he relentlessly fucked his tongue into your pussy. There was no going slow and sensual anymore as Baji now forced his wet muscle in and out of you as hard and fast as he could. 

Trying to keep eye contact with the ravenette proved to be harder than you had initially expected; his iron grip on your tender skin was painful, his tongue bruised your insides in search of your sweet red nectar and his eyes burned with carnal desire. The way Baji was looking into your eyes felt like a predator looking into its prey��s eyes before eating it alive. A shiver ran down your spine to your clit as he nudged your sensitive bud with his sharp nose, creating a delicious friction that had you seeing stars. 

But you stayed put: you kept on looking back into his eyes even when his tongue grazed your g spot. Once he found your spongy spot there was no going back. The vampire carefully watched your reactions when he pistoned his tongue, always making sure to hit your g spot. Your eyes began to tear up the harder he went on you, your vision became blurry from the pain and pleasure; your lips parted as a string of ‘Oh my God’s, curses and Baji’s name left your mouth like a broken record and your hair was disheveled. The hottest mess Baji has ever seen in his life.

His dick strained painfully against his sweatpants, aching to be let free and sink itself down your throat. But that would be for later, after he has had his fill on you.

“Oh God, Kei” you screamed as you buckled your hips against his face. The tightness in your tummy became overbearing, dulling your sense of shame even more as you unabashedly screamed and begged your boyfriend to make you come. You didn’t care about the thin walls or the noise complaint you’d get in the next morning, brain full of the way his tongue feels inside you. 

Chanting ‘Please, please please please’ as the knot bursted in your tummy, you cried out his name. Your body felt limp after your release, so you fell back, hitting your head and back on the back rest yet again. Panting heavily as you came down from your orgasm, Baji helped you ride your high out before he pulled out his wet muscle from your clenching hole. His grip softened before releasing you, standing up from his kneeling position. 

“Fuck, my knees hurt” Baji groaned as he patted his knees “next time I better get a pillow to kneel on, baby”

“Next time?” you teased breathlessly, smiling at the gruff man once he stood up to his full height. 

“Yeah, next time” Baji replied smugly as he licked off the remainder of your blood away from his lips “I got a taste for you now baby. This will become a monthly routine from now on” 

You hummed at his idea, eyes wandering to his very obvious bulge. Somehow the view alone sent a tingle to your spent pussy. 

Baji wasn’t dumb, he knew you were looking at his cock and he knew you were thinking about the unspeakable things he could do to you with it. A smug smirk crept on his lips as he wiped off the blood on his chin before he stepped closer to the couch. With one movement he had you laid down on the couch, your back on the cushions and your head propped up on the armrest. 

The vampire stood above you, looking down on you as he slowly pulled his sweats down “You had your fun. Now it’s my turn”

[baby-yongbok]

a strange kind of beautiful.

Kim Seungmin Soft Thought

⤷ WC - 1.2k

⤷ CW - Supernatural themes, some might consider it angst... I think it's sweet.

“You were my strange kind of beautiful.” There’s stardust on your lips, “And I was yours.”

⤷ I literally only listened to a strange kind of beautiful by bruno major as I wrote this. Enjoy!

✧ Masterlist ✧

Seungmin is not human.

He was, once. Maybe before this. Before the night the meteor crashed into the lake behind your childhood home and carved the universe into his chest.

The sky lit up the night he arrived. It cracked open like a ribcage, an ethereal aurora borealis came forward, hypnotizing you. The meteor didn’t roar - it sang. A high, pure tone that made the trees tremble and the lake still.

You were only a child, barefoot in the grass, chasing fireflies when the world turned gold.

The crater was small. Quiet. At the center was a boy your age, naked and shivering, curls of silver smoke rising from his skin. He didn’t speak. He didn’t cry. He just looked at you - eyes too deep, too ancient - and reached out with a hand glowing faintly from within.

You didn’t scream. You offered yours in return.

From that night on, he was Seungmin. The name you gave him. The boy who didn’t eat but pretended to. Who didn’t bleed but bandaged your scrapes. Who didn’t dream but stayed awake to watch over yours.

You never questioned why he never changed. 

Some part of you always knew.

Some part of him always hoped you wouldn’t ask.

Now, he walks through life with stardust in his blood and grief in his bones. Everyone sees him - laughing, singing, dazzling before their mundane gaze - but no one sees it: the flicker behind his eyes, the way his hands tremble when he touches things too alive, too real.

You - you - are the only one who sees through the glow.

You find him on the roof at two in the morning, humming a song that sounds like galaxies cracking open. His voice - beautiful, haunting - is a sound the world isn’t meant to hold.

And when he finally tells you what he is - that he’s not meant to stay, that he’s unraveling like time - it breaks you in a way that feels holy.

You love him anyway.

Because he’s not just beautiful. He’s a strange kind of beautiful. The kind that hurts. The kind that leaves marks. The kind that teaches you what it means to hold something transitory, and still choose to love it knowing it’s already halfway gone.

You look up to the sky with him, at the stars twinkling through clouds. Your breath puffs from your chapped lips like smoke but his does nothing. He’s never really breathing.

It’s winter, but the sky doesn’t know how to snow tonight. The chill is too still to hurt as you sit in your shorts, goosebumps rising like baraille on your skin, telling stories that will never make paper and will be gone in an instant. The city below is a kaleidoscope of insomnia. The man beside you is rimmed in faint gold - light that doesn’t belong to the moon.

He’s humming. The song has no lyrics. It feels like a farewell.

You call his name, and he turns to you - soft, slow, like he’s afraid the motion will break him.

His eyes catch yours. They’re darker than usual. Like the stars are dimming inside him.

“You’re fading.”

Seungmin smiles, gently like the faintest expression might crack him - or you. “I know.”

“How much time do you have?” Your voice shivers in place of your body, searching for warmth in a simple vibration before it fails, freezing over.

“Time is a human thing. I only have until I understand what it means to be alive. To love. And I think I’m close.” His eyes wander down to your chest then your lap, he wants to hook his fingers between yours, feel the warmth of a body that isn’t flickering dim. 

“So close that it’s killing you?”

He’s silent for exactly three beats, your heart keeps time. “It’s strange, isn’t it? That something as soft as love could be the thing that burns me out.” His voice is soft, wistful. 

“Then stop.” Your voice is wistful too, the desperate kind that wishes to expand beyond the capacity of your mortal heart. 

The stars in his eyes stare into the amber in yours, “But you’re the one teaching me.”

You reach for him, but your hand passes through just slightly - like mist, like he’s halfway between form and light. He laughs softly, heartbreakingly. Not because it’s funny, but because it’s inevitable.

And you cry.

Your air turns to a fine vapor, something unattainable just like him. Just like you were always afraid he would be. There’s no sound to the sobs, no soundtrack to your tears as they glide down frigid skin. His humming has stopped, possibly forever.

Seungmin leans in, forehead pressed to yours.

“Don’t cry. You knew what I was. You knew this love would end like a sunset.” You can’t help it. He knows you can’t but he still tries to comfort the swell in your chest. It’s odd, he can feel it too.

“Then stay. Even if it’s just to watch it fade with me.” He takes a breath, his chest rises then falls and for once there is matter escaping him. A dim cloud that sparkles in the moonlight in a way that you can only call ethereal. 

It happens quietly.

He doesn’t vanish in a burst of flame or implode like a star. He just… fades. One piece at a time. Like a song slipping out of tune.

You're holding him in your arms, his forehead is still on yours. The beat of your heart lines up with the flicker of his being. The air around him is warm despite the cold. He’s glowing from the inside out now, too bright to look at fully.

“I thought it would hurt more.” You’re thankful that it doesn’t, not for him at least.

“You said love would burn you out.” He chuckles, knowing that you expected some fantastical exit.

“It did. But in the most beautiful way.” His fingers ghost on your cheek - since that’s all he is - they push back a strand of hair, tucking it neatly. 

“Stay. Please, just a little longer.” You whisper, a final plea before the curtains close. Before the credits of it all rise before you.

“I’m not going anywhere. Not really. You’ll carry me now. Every song. Every sky. Every memory where I smiled like a human. Where I loved you beyond the bounds of this earth.”

The flicker starts to die out, the pressure of his forehead against your fades and the pull of his being merging with yours intensifies. You hold your breath, hoping to slow it all down and Seungmin grins, ever so faintly before leaning in, finally. 

His lips brush over yours with light instead of flesh. He presses into you like a shooting star and you inhale him, deep, full. 

“You were my strange kind of beautiful.” There’s stardust on your lips, “And I was yours.”

Then he’s gone. No sound. No burst.

Just light - flickering once - then sinking into you.

He was never yours to keep. But love was never about keeping, was it?

It was about burning - brilliant, brief, and beautiful.

You open your eyes, blinking away the sparkle and looking up to the winter sky, tears in your eyes and the shivering starts. But then, the clouds part, the moon shines down and your throat vibrates in a faint hum.  You know this song. It has no lyrics but you name it with your breath, barely a whisper: His.

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[frownyalfred]

All this talk about young bruce and LoA-era Bruce etc makes me remember that I've got this itch for a specific brand of de-aged!Bruce/time travel fic i havent been able to find on Ao3 where the batkids are confronted with very-newly-batman and/or LoA-era Bruce. Something about them realising just how much bruce changed once Dick (and then the rest of them) came into his life and he took on that role of paternal figure/mentor/whatever the fuck he and the batkids have going on. And also witnessing him kill (if its LoA-era) or something else very un-batman-like

I was thinking about this too! Something about them meeting Bruce as Ra’s Al Ghul’s lieutenant, a member of the League, and everything Batman isn’t and yet is. He’s so young but there’s parts of him that are so much heavier and darker than even Bruce of two decades ahead. It would be seriously unsettling and SO cool to read if someone wrote it…..

[bitchface24-7]

HELLO POOKIE WOOKIE SMOOKIE 💕💕

I love your Viktor x reader fics so much, like genuinely you write him so in character it has me giggling and kicking my feet. This is like a weirdly obscure req but it’s been clawing away at my brain

I saw one fanart of an arcane x starwars AU and I LOST MY FUCKING MIND. Hear me out, evil sith Viktor being manipulated by Silco is a plotline I didn’t know I needed in my life…

I’m so open to hear any of your thoughts or takes on him, just general headcannons or a full fic if you so desire. But I have an idea for Viktor x Jedi! Reader OR assassin! Reader

It could either be that reader is a hired gun for the sith that he specifically employed to be a rat for the rebellion. (What if their double crossing him behind his back and feeding him false information that soils his plans??? Or plotting a mutiny???? AUGH)

Also another idea is friends(lovers?) to enemies to lovers, maybe they knew eachother when they where foundlings and when Viktor went to the dark side they separated, do what you will with that plotline.

Either way I think having a very smart/clever morally grey reader would be such a delicious dynamic.

Sorry I wrote you a whole novel, anyways I love your writing peace out girly 🤞🤞🤞

YOUR FALLEN ANGEL - VIKTOR X READER

synopsis: you and Viktor have been as thick as thieves for as long as you can remember, metaphorically and literally. After being saved from the slave trade on Tatooine from two Jedi masters who felt incredible amounts of midichlorians in both of your blood. They train you in the ways of the force. But Viktor has always been passionate, and that became his downfall.

warnings: general descriptions of violence, the darker side of the Jedi’s mentioned, manipulation, desperation, morally grey reader, I'm low-key ripping off episodes I-III in this, Grammarly as my beta ADDITION: tried my best at GN smut, y'all are virgins so… it’s vanilla, oral (m and reader receiving), talks of fantasies, unsafe sex, creampie

genre: m/f or m/m

p.s. I love Star Wars. I've loved this franchise ever since I was little, the last of the series (EP VII-IX) wasn't the best. They had good ideas but executed them poorly imo. Hopefully y'all like my little twist to it. Essentially I've stolen bits and pieces of Anakin x Padme for this to work.

Going from slaves to padawans was a massive shift in your life. You never thought you'd end up here, free.

Well, as free as can be as a Jedi in training. You remember reciting the code as a young child,

“There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony.”

You can understand the code— to a certain extent. Humans are not meant to be emotionless, it's physically impossible. Unlike our droid friends, we are unable to turn off our emotions. They’re with us from the day we’re born, and they’ll be with us till the day we die.

Viktor has always pushed the boundaries. His master, Obi-Wan Kenobi tries his best to negate him; very rarely does he succeed. Your own master, Mace Windu isn’t the biggest fan of your oldest and closest friend. You ignore him. Same with the other members of the Jedi Order.

Too passionate is what everyone says. Every so often Master Yoda will take you off to the side and regale the Sith Code like a mantra in his odd speaking habits. As if he’s trying to convince you— warn you about something that’ll never happen.

“Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.”

Both creeds have their upsides and downsides. Their truths and incomprehensible impossibilities. But as the days go on, as you mature from Padawan to full fledge Jedi, you see a shift in Viktor.

It's so small it's barely even noticeable, but you know him better than you know yourself. And he's started changing ever since that slimy councillor has been around him.

Councillor Silco.

You're not a fan of any of the councillors, but Councillor Silco is the worst of the bunch. Full of lies and deceit. You can taste it whenever he gets too close. His predecessor Councillor Palpatine is even more horrendous.

You're not sure as to why Viktor can't.

It isn't until they've sunk their claws fully into Viktor do you see the truth.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You're not sure what happened. One second your Master is fighting Councillor Silco, the next Viktor has taken you down, a nasty slash on your waist, your Master is dead, and Viktor is helping the man who killed him.

A crack forms in your heart at the betrayal. You want to scream, cry, and sob inconsolably at the pain you're feeling. But there's not just pain there, there is also anger.

Hatred.

You look up at the duo and grit your teeth, your jaw painfully clenched. That's when Councillor Silco desperately reaches for his neck as he sputters.

He's choking on nothing, and you're the cause of it.

After a moment, he's let go. You feel a bit of horrified justification at your actions. He’s killed your Master, manipulated your friend, and taken what you hold most dear.

You don't feel sorry.

And that’s what scares you.

Viktor looks shocked, his eyes wide as he stares at you. Councillor Silco is trying to catch his breath, but he looks immensely satisfied.

“Looks like there is still hope for you yet.”

And with that, the two men leave; and one of them takes your heart with him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You rush to Obi-Wan and Yoda to tell them what has transpired. The death of Mace, the betrayal and secret mole in Councillor Silco, and the manipulation Viktor has been put under.

The two men look warily at one another at the last point. Your frustration boils over at their secrecy.

“What?!” You question. Your tone is sharp, angry. The two Master’s look to you in shock. You've never raised your voice, not since you became a student here at the temple. Yet here you are, your emotions guiding your actions.

The way of the Sith.

Yoda hums and Obi-Wan placates you, “My dear, you must control yourself. We’ve already lost one bright soul— we’d be crushed to lose another.”

And in that moment it hits you. They’re not going to save Viktor— they’re not even going to try! He’s already deemed a lost cause, a failure to the order. Not to you. Never to you.

You two promised you’d escape Tatooine and live long, happy lives together. You’re already halfway there.

You just need to save Viktor from himself.

And kill the people responsible for corrupting him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

After that, you resign from the Order. They’re shocked, expectedly so. You and Viktor were their strongest Padawan, now their strongest Jedi. They’ve lost one to the dark.

They lost the other to their negligence.

Obi-Wan, Yoda, and the rest of the Jedi Council try their best to dissuade you. None of them succeed.

You know that they will control your actions as long as you are within their walls. So you leave, and you leave behind your green lightsaber.

You feel as if you’ve outgrown this one. Another kyber crystal is calling for you, you can feel it.

With that, you leave the one place you felt like was yours. All in the name of love.

You truly are a horrible Jedi.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It takes weeks of excavation, but you eventually find the crystal that’s been singing your name, calling for you, and begging you for a chance.

It’s beautiful.

Even more beautiful than your previous crystal. You’ve collected all the required components to re-build your saber, now you just need to actually build the damn thing.

You place all the pieces down and mediate. Letting the force run through you like a calm river, you subconsciously feel your saber being made. When you open your eyes, you hold back a soft gasp.

It’s wonderful. A beautiful steel handle with fine markings and it’s perfectly balanced. You ignite the saber and try not to cry. It’s purple.

Just like your Master’s.

With your resolved hardened and new saber in hand, you continue on your self-imposed quest to save Viktor.

And save him you will.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It was shockingly easy to find them. After months of tracking, tracing, and pulling every move of stealth you know, you've finally done it.

You asked around, used some mind-tricks on unwilling citizens, and interrogated others in a way that’d make the Jedi ashamed of you.

Good thing you’re no Jedi.

Viktor and Silco are in the councillors building, in Silco’s private room. You casually make your way there, your black cloak billowing ominously.

Before anything else can happen, you slam the door open with the force and ignite your lightsaber.

Someone is going to die today, and it isn’t you.

The two men look shocked at your arrival. Instead of dawning your usual white and beige outfit, a green saber in hand, you wear more dark colours. Black, brown, and hints of beige encapsulate your figure, a purple saber replacing your old one.

There’s an angry look in your eye that the two men only saw once, and it almost caused Silco’s death.

Seems like you’re back to finish the job.

Before you can swing at Silco, Viktor protects him. His yellow saber gone. In place is now a red one.

You want to cry. His old saber matched his eyes perfectly. You always mentioned it every time you two trained together. Now it’s gone. He’s changed just as much as you have.

The fight is intense, brutal in all honesty. The sweet face Viktor used to have is gone. Now it’s even more sharp, and his eyes have an orange— almost red tint to them. The pure gold now gone as well.

The eyes of a Sith.

You slash each other, block, dodge, kick, scream, taunt. A violent dance of passion and contempt, with hints of underlying tension.

Lust.

The Jedi Masters were always worried the two of you would pursue a relationship, even though those temptations were strictly forbidden.

But who doesn't crave forbidden fruit?

Now, you both are free of said rules. It's just you two, in a world unfamiliar to you.

Your lightsabers are clashed together. Purple sparking off of red, as you two sneer at one another.

Viktor's canines are sharp as he scowls at you. It reminds you of a fearsome feline. His eyes are narrowed and he pushes against you relentlessly.

You're no better. You can feel your lips pulled back against your teeth as you snarl deep in your chest. The muscles in your neck pulsing as you fight back against the man you love.

A small twirl disengages your clash and you slam Viktor into the wall with the force, pining him down.

You turn your attention to Silco, who's just been sitting there enjoying the two of you trashing his office. You take your free hand not holding your lightsaber and cup it in the air, imitating a choke hold.

Silco goes flying into the air and stills, choking in place viciously. You can hear Viktor yelling at you but it's muffled. All you see is the man who took your best friend from you, and you're getting your vengeance.

You squeeze harder and Silco slams into your waiting palm, a slightly scared look on his face. You look deep into his eyes and enter his mind without consent.

Flashes of memories assault you. Plans, manipulations, grooming, betrayal. One conversation piques your interest. The grandest plan Councillor Silco and Palpatine have.

They call it Order 66.

You feel like vomiting. You hold in all your disgust and revulsion as you pull away from Silco’s mind— ensuring you have all the information you need to prove both of the councillor's guilt.

A glare is all Silco gets before his neck snaps like a twig in your grasp. Viktor’s shout of shock returns you back to your senses, and you drop Silco's body like a rag doll.

Viktor is still pinned to the wall, but he's no longer fighting it. He sits still, stunned. His mouth is lightly agape as he looks at you, his eyes wide and dark. There's a bulge in his pants.

You quirk an eyebrow and Viktor looks away in shame. But he's still that defiant boy you grew up with, and quickly whips his head back to look at you.

“Why did you kill him?! The Jedi are horrible, I just wanted to protect you— why did you kill him?!” His voice gets louder with each sentence, his accent sharp and his tone desperate.

The force hold on him disappears and Viktor slumps against the wall, defeated. You sit next to him.

“Because he lied and manipulated you. He took you from me. The Jedi weren't going to help you, so I did it myself.”

Viktor looks shocked, the orangey-red tint slowly dissipating in his eyes, their original golden hue shining through, “You— what? You went against the Jedi?”

A scoff escapes you against your will, “I left the Jedi Order.”

“When?!”

“The day you left.”

The silence between you is deafening. Viktor looks shocked, a violent blush is seen across his cheekbones and ears. He swallows deeply before asking, “That... That was months ago! Why?!”

You shrug, “Because you left. The Jedi weren't going to help, and I've always known they weren't the best. Taking children away from their families when they're babies, indoctrinating them into the Order, their silly rules. The Sith aren't any better either.”

Viktor now looks curious, he gazes at you deeply and you feel like coughing. He's always been so… incredibly handsome. Now, with his full focus on you, you can't help but recognize that.

“So I've come up with my own code.”

The man next to you smiles, a chuckle leaving his throat, it’s one of the sexiest things you've ever heard, “Tell me? You always used to complain about the code when we were Padawans. I had to make you stop talking so many times before a Master heard you.”

You sigh contently and rest your head in Viktor’s shoulder, the black leather of his outfit cooling your heated cheek,

“There must be both dark and light. I will do what I must to keep the balance, as the balance is what holds all life. There is no good without evil, but evil must not be allowed to flourish. There is passion, yet peace; serenity, yet emotion; chaos, yet order. I am a wielder of the flame; a champion of balance. I am a guardian of life. I am a Gray Jedi.”

Viktor looks at you and huffs, “A Grey Jedi? Really?”

You snort at his tone and lightly hit his chest, “I came up with the concept like a week ago, leave me alone.” The two of you laugh before a peaceful, comfortable silence envelops you two. You enjoy it immensely before ruining it, “Why did you leave?”

The shoulder you're leaning on stiffens, and for a second you think Viktor isn't going to answer, but he does, “I already told you, I just wanted to protect you. I was getting horrible nightmares— Visions about your death. I couldn't handle it. Silco told me he knew a way to prevent it, and I accepted whole heartedly. Without thinking of the consequences.”

You hum, “It was a trick you know? Silco and Palpatine placed those images in your head using the force. They wanted a strong Sith Lord, powerful in the force, to mock the downfall of the Jedi Order.”

“The downfall—?”

“Palpatine put chips in the clone’s heads, with a special order called “Order 66”, it’s meant to overtake the clone's will and eradicate any Jedi in the clone's path. Doesn't matter if they're a Master, a Padawan, or a Youngling.”

Viktor’s sharp inhale is all you need to know. He didn't know.

“And— and there's proof?”

You nod, slowly getting up and going over to Silco’s desk, inputting the password, and taking all the necessary documents and voice pads.

“We’ll anonymously submit these findings to the Council and the Jedi Order. They can deal with all this shit. They can help the clones. I’m done.”

Viktor slowly gets up as well and walks over to you, “And, what will we be doing?”

You surge forward kissing Viktor passionately. The beautiful man gasps, and you use that to your advantage to add tongue to the kiss.

You may not have much physical experience, but you do have experience in reading dirty novels and touching yourself secretly.

The kiss eventually breaks and Viktor looks shocked and pleased, “We’re going to Naboo, and you're going to fuck me. I've always wanted to go there and I've always wanted you.”

VIktor chokes as you take his hand, step over Silco’s body, and exit the office.

He never expected this. But he’s not complaining.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

There's an uproar at the Council and the Jedi Order. Palpatine is charged and executed for crimes against the Council and the Order. The Clones are healed and clear of any signs of the chip's potential betrayal.

The two of you don't know this though. You're too busy at Naboo, finally getting what you've always wanted.

Each other.

Your kisses are sloppy, passionate, and desperate. All of the emotions bottled up from your time at the Jedi Order overflowing and finally seeing the light of day.

Your garbs are removed quickly, the tunics, the pants, the tops, the boots. All that's left are your undergarments. You push Viktor onto the bed, and slowly crawl your way up towards him. His large bulge taunting you.

A small nod is all you get before your fingers hook into Viktor's undergarments and his cock springs free. Hard, leaking, and beautiful. Just like him.

You wrap your hand around the shaft and Viktor hisses in pleasure, his eyes half-lidded as he looks down at you. His face is flushed, his lips are plump and red, and his long hair is a mess. Pieces of brown and blond hair stick to his forehead, and fan across his shoulder wonderfully. God. You could stare at him all day.

"Y'know..." You start slyly, your hand slowly pumping up and down. You remove your hand and lightly spit into it before pumping him again, the slide much smoother this time, "I would fantasize about this."

The groan that escapes Viktor is animalistic. Needy. He bites his lower lip as his lower abdomen clenches in excitement, "Really? Oh do continue."

You hum sarcastically, "Yup. I'd sneak in dirty books from the market and read them late into the night. I'd picture I was the main character and that you were the love interest. I'd touch myself almost every night to the filthy words on the page. Imagining it was you and me."

The tip of Viktor's cock enters your mouth and his back bows at the intense feeling. Your confession, the warmth of your mouth, the glint in your eyes. Viktor isn't sure he can survive this.

His hands fly to grasp your hair desperately as he gasps in pleasure. Moans and whimpers escape him-- alongside chopped up variations of your name.

This goes on for several minutes before the pitch in Viktor's voice heightens, and he's trying to pull your lips off his cock, "I'm going to cum! Wait! Not yet! Not until you--" A low groan escapes him when you shove your head down to the base of his cock, his brown curls tickling your nose. He cums straight down your throat.

He whimpers as you slowly pull off his cock, a self satisfied smirk on your lips. Viktor just lays there, panting.

"You asshole. I wanted to cum with you. Now I can't."

You can't help but giggle at Viktor's petulant tone, you crawl up his body kissing a trail as you go before plopping a sweet kiss on his plump lips, "You still can. Don't tell me you won't get hard again fingering me open to stuff me full of your cock?"

Viktor's eyes widen at your crude language before laughing himself, "Wow. You truly weren't lying about those filthy books." You take your undergarments off and Viktor just looks in awe at you. You're so gorgeous, he's the luckiest man in the galaxy.

He takes his time with you. Sucking hickey's into your neck, abusing your chest, appreciating your abdomen and waist, squeezing your hips and ass. He eventually makes his way to your hole, and he licks it. You buck up in shock and gasp. The feeling electric. He continues to lick, exploring as much as he can. Your moans get breathier and breathier at the assault, until the pulls away.

"Give me the lube on the side table."

You follow his order without question. Viktor pops open the cap and puts some lube on his fingers, before going back to eating you out. He slowly puts a finger inside as he continues to lick at you. This feels amazing, it's better than all your dirty books and fantasies combined.

Eventually three fingers are pumping in and out of you as you whine for something bigger.

And something bigger you get.

He's stretching you, filling you up to the brim. Even with all the preparation, all the lube, it still wasn't enough. Then Viktor pumps his hips, and it's game over.

All you can do is moan as Viktor's massive cock hits all your sensitive spots. The two of you engage in a passionate kiss as you moan into each other's mouths. You rub your sensitive bundle in tune with Viktor's thrusts, and before you know it. You're cumming.

All his foreplay really paid off. All you can see are stars clouding your vision as you enter nirvana. Viktor continues to pump his hips, desperate for his second orgasm. In a few minutes, he get's his release, and cums deep inside you.

He plops down, laying on top of you as he pants in exertion. You run one hand through his long hair as the other trails random shapes on his back. His cock shrinks a bit, maybe an inch or two and it pops out of your hole, his creampie following suit.

The two of you lay in bliss. You never though you'd get here, the Jedi forbidding it and the Sith manipulating your lovers mind.

But you're here now, and that's all that matters. The two of yo share one final kiss before sleep overtakes you. You're in each others arms, stuck together like glue. As it should be.

As it will be until the end of time.

Before the two of you fully fall asleep, you both say the three words you’ve always wanted to hear from one another ever since you were young.

“I love you.”

Y'all I don't know what happened. I saw this request, blacked out, and this is the result. If you see any grammar or spelling mistakes, no you didn't and blame Grammarly. Idk if this is the vibe you're doing for dear requester bur tbus is what my mind came up with. Xoxo hope ya enjoyed it! ❤️