#i’m so tired of trying to find people to fill this void | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

strawberrysturniolo · 3 months

Note

need a sub chris asap. giving you creative freedom but major sub/mommy vibes

wet dreams //sub!chris

summary: you decide to please your boyfriend when you see him experiencing a sex dream. sub!chris. mommy kink. male!receiving. use of vibrator on male.

Sleepovers at my boyfriend's house are nightly at this point. I practically live with him. I have a toothbrush here, a caddy in the shower filled with my necessities, a drawer of extra clothes, a few pairs of shoes, an extra charger. There’s even some decor that is mine.

People are often surprised to find that me and Chris don’t technically live together. I just spend so much time with him, and he insists that he sleeps better with someone else in his bed. I have been told by his brothers that he’s tired of him trying to cuddle them while he sleeps. I’m here to fill that void.

I woke up earlier than him today. That’s never surprising. I may not be a true early bird, but compared to Chris, I’m up at the crack of dawn.

I put on some clean clothes, walking around the bedroom and watching him stir in his sleep. His mouth started out parted slightly, but every so often, a soft gasp left his lips and forced them open more. When his mouth wasn’t open, his lips were pressed together.

I found myself watching him as he made subtle sounds. As time went on, he turned to his stomach, and my stomach dropped, knowing what was happening.

His soft moans turned into low grunts as he started pressing his crotch into the mattress, his hips shifting ever so slightly. His toned back flexed as he moved, his briefs tight around his ass, and I only imagined the sight of his dick begging to be freed from the fabric.

I swallowed harshly as I watched him, standing in shock. I knew he had sex dreams. He had told me about them before. He had them frequently. Maybe it was a guy thing, or maybe he was just horny all the time. I just had never seen it happen before my eyes.

I made small, careful steps to the bed, making sure not to wake him. I want to see how far this will go.

A sharp gasp left his throat, making me freeze.

“Fuck,” he muttered before turning his head to the other side. His hand clutched a pillow, gripping it tightly. I was dying to know what he was dreaming of. What we were doing. How we were touching each other.

I was struggling to keep myself together as I watched. I lowered myself to the bed, sitting down softly and moving next to him, watching him up close.

His forehead had a small bead of sweat dripping from his skin. His eyebrows furrowed and his eyes squeezed shut as his desperate sounds of pleasure seeped out of him.

It went on for a few minutes before he turned onto his back. He was still asleep, but his dick was throbbing inside of his underwear. I could see it twitch as his dream went on. A wet spot lingered on the gray fabric, growing by the second.

An element of our sex life that had been discussed was the idea of consensual non-consent – an idea of us being more than okay with the other person waking us up with a sexual act. I had always been hesitant about the idea. I didn’t want to wake him up and have him complain about being too tired throughout the day just so we could have sex.

But this was different. He was obviously desperate. He was practically fucking the mattress begging for a release. I had to help him. He would want me to.

I carefully traced my fingers on his left thigh, feeling the soft hair that decorated his tan skin. He twitched a little more in his sleep, and his sounds of approval were enough to encourage me to go all the way.

I placed my hand over his bulge, the wetness seeping through finding my palm. My heart is racing as I wait for him to wake up. He lets out a gasp at my touch, bucking his hips harshly.

He’s still asleep.

A few minutes passed. My hand continued to stroke his dick as his moans grew. I expected him to wake up at this point, but everything I am doing is probably just pushing into his dream. He has no reason to wake up because he is getting everything he needs while he sleeps.

A loud moan leaves his mouth, making my eyes shoot open. I carefully peel down the waistband of his underwear, watching as his tip leaks. I spread some of the pre-cum around his tip with my thumb before licking over his slit.

“Please, baby,” he whines. “Please.”

I take him in my mouth, my tongue swirling around his length. As his moans grow, I shake him by his shoulder while I suck him off, waking him up so he can bask in what’s real rather than his dream.

His eyes open softly. He looks groggy and confused momentarily before he realizes that this pleasure is real. His head falls backwards and he lifts a hand to my hair, pushing my head down on him.

“Fuck baby,” he groans.

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask, pulling off of him and stroking him instead.

He shakes his head. “Don’t stop.”

I grip his balls, making him gasp. “Tell me.”

“You were bouncing on my dick,” he breathes out. “You held a vibrator to your clit. You were writhing on me, clenching like crazy. But every so often the vibrator would hit my tip. It was so much.”

I’ve never used a vibrator on him, but now I’m more tempted than ever.

“You want me to use a vibrator on you?” I ask.

His eyes widen. He nods frantically.

I spit on his tip. “Are you gonna speak or act pathetic for me and struggle to get words out?”

“I’m gonna talk,” he promises. “Please. I wanna try it.”

I nod, sucking his tip a little bit more before I lean over to my nightstand and grab my bullet vibrator. My theory is that starting small would be a better option for him before we use one that is bigger and could work on his entire dick. I want him to feel comfortable with this first.

His dick is twitching relentlessly as he waits for my touch again. I love seeing him like this. He’s always dominant during sex. I never get to see the submissive side of him. It makes me feel powerful, and I crave control of him in this area of our lives.

I turn on the vibrator, letting him hear the sound of the buzzing so he can decide if he wants to continue. His stomach heaves.

“Please,” he whines. “I need you to touch me.”

“Yeah?” I tease. I lick a stripe up his cock again. “How bad do you need me to touch you?”

“So bad.”

I lean my body over him, pressing a sloppy kiss to his mouth. “You gonna be a good boy for me?”

Something in his eyes changes.

“I’ll be so good for you, mommy.”

Oh hell.

I slide back down to his dick, jerking him slowly with one hand before I trace the vibrator around his tip. His hips buck hard before I press them back down to the bed.

“Don’t you dare,” I warn.

“I’m sorry,” he cries out. “Ohhhh fuck. Please. It’s so good. Oh my god.”

The sounds he’s making are unlike anything I’ve ever heard from him. He’s whining, whimpering, panting, begging for me. It’s taking everything in me to continue to tease him, wanting to edge him from his high.

“I can’t- Fuck. I need to cum,” he says. “Please. Please, I need to.”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

He lets out a desperate cry. “Please!”

“Gotta be a good boy, baby,” I remind him.

“I’m being so good,” he whimpers. His eyes are full, tears almost pouring out as he struggles to hold back.

“I know baby,” I nod, knowing he needs that praise and validation right now. I drag the vibrator up and down his cock before pressing it to his tip again as I stroke the area.

“Fuck!” he shouts, his hips raising again with no control as he cums, catching us both by surprise. My eyes widen before I look up, meeting his eyes. He’s shaking his head like crazy as he continues to cum. “I’m so sorry, mommy. Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to. Please.”

I let him finish before I remove the vibrator, tossing it to the floor. I press soft kisses from his stomach up to his lips before peppering his face in kisses. “It’s okay, baby. Did so good for me, hm?”

He nods breathlessly. “Thank you for waking me up, but now I really need to go back to sleep. I’m exhausted.”

I smile. “Let’s go shower and get back in bed, okay?”

He nods, pressing a tired kiss to my cheek before pulling himself out of bed.

@freshloveforthefit @lacysturniolo @mattitties @floofparker @javalakers @creamoncreamoncream2 @heebiejeebiezz @sturnswrites @runupthathillgirl @gdsvhtwa @666hellokitty420 @runupthathillgirl

#sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo smut #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #strawberrysturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

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iidgm · 23 days

Text

a little something i wrote at 1 am

word count: 1065

—

You sighed heavily, your limbs giving out under you without prior warning.

These chases are exhausting you, and you have no idea for how much longer you’ll be able to keep up with these toys without dying in the process.

Not like you stayed dead, anyways.

Strange voices in your mind ordering you to get up, and somehow waking up moments before your death… You’ve learned to not question it. At least not for now.

You check your surroundings carefully, trying your best to keep your heavy breathing as silent as possible as to not attract any more toys.

Dried pool, giant rubber ducks…

Ominous looking cell doors.

Ah shit, those are the only way forward, aren’t they?

You groan as you lift yourself up with your fists, your GrabPack feeling more like a hindrance than a helping tool at the moment. Damn designers.

You drag your heavy legs towards the cell doors, dread creeping up your spine.

Why are there CELLS on the POOL?!

You enter a dimly candle-lit corridor with a huge hole in a corner. You decide to not approach it, instead you keep going forward.

The putrid, rotting flesh and gore assaults your senses. The smell being unbearable, the sounds it made against your shoes as you walked disgusted you and the dried remains visible made your stomach churn.

But the only way is forward.

You look into the each cell individually, searching for something to help you open the doors at the end of the corridor—

“You… You’re Poppy’s Angel. Come to save us!”

You jump at the sudden deep voice behind you, turning around in panic with flare gun ready to shoot. Then you see it.

See him.

Dogday.

“Nothing left to save, not here…” He continues. “You’re in Catnap’s home, Angel. Their home.”

You try to swallow back the lump in your throat.

Or what’s left of Dogday.

His bottom half is ripped off, only a tight belt acting as a tourniquet preventing his insides to spill out completely. You want to throw up.

“A million pairs of eyes are on you now. Watching, waiting, hungry.” He sounds so defeated. “They want nothing more than to crawl beneath your skin– And eat away at you bit by little bit, fill what feels empty inside themselves.”

Your body moves without your input towards the canine, slowly as to not startle or scare him. Not like anything would achieve that at this point, you think.

“That... thing... CatNap. The Prototype is his God, and this is what he does to heretics.” He moves his arms, secured by shackles to emphasize this. “These little toys follow CatNap to avoid that very fate– and in return, they are fed.”

Your hands slowly move towards Dogday’s face. He doesn’t react.

“We tried to fight it, The Prototype's control.” He takes a deep breath. “I'm... the last of the Smiling Critters.” His voice shakes a little, looking away from you. Your heart breaks further for him.

“I–” You try to start, but he interrupts you.

“Listen to me, you need to get out of this place. You need to live!” He looks at you, his dark voids for eyes locking on your face. His voice cracks again, but he sounds determined. You make up your mind in that second.

“I’m not leaving without you.” You say firmly, before working your way through his shackles as fast as you can. He makes a sound of shock as his arm drops, followed by the other. He falls into your arms, limp and dirty.

“Wh– Angel, I’m a lost cause! You must flee!” He pleads, his hand closing around your forearm with the little strength he has.

“I’m sick and tired of people telling me who I can and cannot save. So strap in, Doggy boy, I’m getting you out of here.” You say with finality, shifting him on your back in a way he can hold himself up somewhat comfortably.

He doesn’t protest any further.

You look around, trying to find a way out of the cellar. The doors you came through somehow closed, so that option is discarded.

“Oh no... OH NO!” You hear Dogday cry out, and you turn your head to see what he’s on about.

Oh shit.

A mass of ruined critters start to crawl their way out of the walls towards you. Before you can react, the floor gives in beneath you, falling through a hole in front of the closed gates.

“Hold on tight!” You warn before running your way through the narrow foam tunnels. Your flare gun manages to scare the little toys that come across your away and gives you a dim light source in the abyssal darkness the Playground was.

You slide down one of the three slides you are offered, and keep running as you can.

And then you see it.

A platform to the surface.

You only have to make a purple hand jump to get there.

The GrabPack was made for only one person, though. Would you be able to make it?

Only one way to find out.

“Be ready!” You shout as you run at full speed, gaining momentum.

'Wait— nononO ANGEL WAIT—' You hear him yell in a panicked tone, but you don't slow down.

With a leap of faith, you press the pressure plate with the purple hand and the world slows down.

For a second, you’re suspended in the air with Dogday’s arms around you firmly, and on the next, you and your companion crash on the platform so hard it knocks the air out of both of you.

You quickly press the button for it to go up before collapsing. Seems like Dogday had let go of you once he saw you’d make it.

You pant in exhaustion, the adrenaline washing off now that you’re somewhat safe. The back of your hand rests on your forehead, your eyes closed to prevent the artificial light from entering your retinas.

You did it.

You hear a deep, husky laugh not far away from you, and you laugh along with him.

You did it!

You managed to save someone!

You two laugh together in a manic manner as the platform lifts you two to the surface level of Playcare.

You’d think what to tell the others once you’re there. For now, you’ll enjoy this short moment of bliss with your new friend.

#.eiden writes.#dogday #smiling critters dogday #dogday x reader #dogday x y/n #poppy playtime dogday #poppy playtime #smiling critters #poppy playtime x reader #x reader #smth smth no proof we die like canon dd

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jasonstodger · 9 months

Note

Could u write a fluff/angst piece where Jason breaks into the wrong house or something but ends up staying & bonds with the reader over having scars and shared trauma?

jkajskajksja YES YES YES! Thank you for the ask, anon <3

"UNCORRUPT ME"

pairing: Jason Todd x ungendered!reader

summary: non-graphic smut | scars | referenced child abuse | trauma bonding | awkwardness

word count: 1.9k

“What are you doing in my room?”

The figure stares at you, their face masked, void of emotion. Unreadable.

“You didn’t lock the window,” he says. His voice is rich and deep, and so, so rough it almost burns. “You… are not who I expected to see.”

You stare at them nervously. You’re sat up in your bed, your dorm a dingy, dark envelope of self-pity. Those searching white lenses trail over you, lingering on the many thick, deep white scars, jagged and cruel, that litter your stomach and ribs like rivers of silver over your skin.

“What do you want? I have no money. I’m a student.” Your voice is eerily calm, your heart beating uncomfortably in your chest as the figure takes a heavy step towards you.

“I’m not here for money,” comes the thick reply. His boots slide across your floor again. “What happened to you?”

You swallow, thick and uncomfortable, wetting your lips. You can’t see the man’s eyes beneath his mask. It’s unsettling: “My father tried to kill me 6 years ago. He stabbed me 34 times.”

Your voice is quiet and void of emotion as you repeat the tragedy that continues to haunt you. The figure regards you silently.

“Why did he try to kill you?”

“Who are you?” You ask, little louder than a whisper.

“I’m…” he hesitates. “Jason Todd.”

You rub your sleep-tired eyes, looking at him through the darkness. “Aren’t you dead?”

“I was. But I’m better now,” he says again in his low timbre. He approaches cautiously, scanning the scars on your body. “Your father isn’t here now, is he?”

“He’s in Arkham. They fried his brains.”

“I see.” He continues to stare at you, and you can almost feel his palpable need to take your pain away. “You don’t have anyone with you tonight?”

You stare at him silently, your cheek twitching at the irony of his words. “No one wants to go home with the chick who’s dad sliced her up.”

Silence. And then:

“I’d go home with you.”

You grin wrlyly, but there is no happiness there. “The man who broke into my dorm says he’d go home with me. Tell me why that doesn’t fill me with comfort?”

“Because I broke into your dorm.”

“Bingo.”

He creeps closer. “I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay,” you whisper, watching him closely.

“... Can I kiss you?”

His mask is lit by the moonlight as he kneels down in front of you, the hard edges of the helmet glistening. Your eyes soften, heart skipping a beat.

“No.”

“I understand,” he says lowly. He continues to stare at you, the mask making it impossible to see any subtle facial changes. But his voice grows gentle. “Would you… let me stay with you tonight?”

“Why?” you whisper, voice shaky.

“You look lonely.”

“I’m used to it.”

“Just because you’re used to it doesn’t make it okay,” he says softly.

“I could say the same to you about breaking into people’s homes.”

He tilts his head. “Maybe,” he decrees, and he motions to the spot on the your bed beside you. “May I?”

You stare at him for a moment, trying to decipher him. “... okay.”

He shuffles under the covers, not touching you. For a while, you both lie there in silence.

“My name’s y/n,” you say suddenly, gently.

“I’m Jason,” he replies.

“Yeah… you’ve said that.”

“Oh. Sorry.” He looks at you, trying to find the right thing to say and do.

Your voice becomes quiet. “It’s okay,” Your legs touch, and you swallow. “Do you have scars, Jason?”

“Yes.” His voice is low, and he keeps his gaze low too. Like he can’t bring himself to look at you.

“Cool.”

“Is it cool? I guess… it’s cool how similar we are. We’re both people broken by the world.”

You don’t reply for a moment, sinking into the bed. You can feel him beside you. It’s strangely comfortable, despite knowing nothing about him. But you can understand that he’s also damaged goods… Just like you. He reaches out, fingertips touching your arm: “We don’t have to talk, if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind talking,” you say quietly. “It’s a good distraction.”

He appraises you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Okay.”

“Why’d you let me stay?”

You glance at him, his face obscured by the dark and his mask. “I think I was hoping you’d finish the job,” you admit, quiet and vulnerable.

“I’m not here to do that. I’m not supposed to be here at all.”

“That’s alright,” you whisper.

He pauses, thinking about his next words. “Have you ever wanted to get back at the person that hurt you?”

“I think about killing my dad everyday,” you admit, and your pinkies brush gently against each other.

“Would it make you happy, y/n? If you did?”

“No…”

“Why not?”

“It wouldn’t change anything. I’d still be scarred.”

“Yeah…” he turns his body in your direction, moving a little closer. You turn your head to face him. “Can I hold you tonight? I… I’d like to feel what it’s like to hold someone again.

“Okay,” you whisper, a little emotional.

He rolls over and pulls you into a warm embrace. He holds you, not wanting to let go. His body radiates heat, and he rests his head against yours. Your hair brushes his skin, and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath.

In that moment, you’re both content.

You wrap your arms around him, pressing into his warmth as you, too, close your eyes. “This is nice.”

“You feel good,” he whispers into your hair, his hand caressing your face gently.

You smile, small and sad. “So do you.”

He shifts his body, moving even closer to you. His hips move against yours gently. It’s like nothing in the world matters except that your skin is touching his. Your breathing becomes a little ragged, and you both stay like that for a few moments, just breathing and touching.

You cradle his jaw in your hand, tracing the grooves of his mask, moving to take it off: “Can I?”

“... sure.”

You gently peel off his mask, revealing his face. You stare at him in the dingy lighting, and your fingers brush over the ‘J’ scar carved into his cheek. His breathing speeds up a little bit. Scars are a reminder of when a person is at their weakest. To be allowed to touch them by someone just as damaged as you… so tender and sweet… it feels like blasphemy.

“You’re very beautiful,” you say quietly.

“So are you,” he whispers back, his hand moving to touch the long scars on your chest. Your breath hitches, almost inaudible. He moves his fingers back and forth, tracing the ragged lines of raised skin, watching you to see how you react. Your heart races under his hand. “You’re so soft… can I… can I do more?”

You swallow. “If you’d like.”

His body moves against yours, and you press yourselves together, your breaths becoming laboured. His hand moves from the scars on your chest, down towards your hips. You rut against each other, clothed and urgent.

You can feel his body pressed against yours, and it’s like the weight of the world is leaving you. You feel alive for the first time in a long time. And you want to make him feel the same way. Your hand reaches beneath his clothes, feeling the heat and tension building between you.

He lets out a shaky gasp, your bodies moving slowly against each other. You can feel him, and he can feel you. You both breathe harder and harder, your breaths catching in your throats, as your eyes stare into each other’s souls.

You can feel everything. Every heartbeat, every sigh, every breath, every twitch and moan. And you know he can feel it too, as your bodies begin to move faster, harder. The two of you are together in that moment, and the world shrinks away.

You move with more urgency, writhing against each other like testy teens. Bodies move as one, your hands searching for every sensitive and intimate spot. There is no more doubt or fear or anger. Just two broken individuals finding each other in the night.

The heat and sweat of your bodies mingles - two shattered and lonely souls finding something less than love in each other, just for a moment. Your heart beats in your ears.

He breathes quietly against your neck, moaning lowly with each move you make, and his free hand tangles at the back of your head, holding you against his skin as the pressure builds between you.

“Jason,” you moan quietly into his throat. Just for the while, you feel whole. He presses against you, desperately, breath catching in his throat, louder and more needy with each grunt and muffled whine.

Everything else disappears, and the world falls away.

There’s only the two of you - two people alone in the dark, broken and damaged, finding each other and trying to fix what’s left.

When you finish, you don’t cry out. There is a sharp exhale, and a tightening of muscles. Jason shudders as he grips you tightly, and he holds you, his body sliding against you for a few seconds longer, before he slowly pulls away. Neither of you say anything for a moment as you pant and try to catch your breath.

The silence is interrupted only by your breathing, soft and quick breaths as you lie still in each other’s arms. You can feel his heart beating beating hard against your own chest, as if it’s still trying to keep up with the rush.

You’re not sure what to say, staring at him with lidded eyes. “That was… nice.”

He nods his head. You’re not sure if nice covers it, because right now you feel more alive than you have in years. But you don’t say this. You’re not used to feeling this way.

You don’t want to ruin it.

“You should probably go to sleep,” Jason says quietly.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” you ask gently, knowing the answer already.

“No. I have to go,” he whispers. The answer is more brutal thant you’d expected. He tries to smile at you, but it feels like a lie. “I’m sorry.”

“I thought so,” you say, choked.

“I…” he searches for something to say, taking your hand in his and caressing your skin with his thumb. “I want to stay with you. For a moment longer.”

“I don’t want to fall asleep,” you admit quietly.

“Can I ask you one last thing?”

“Yes.”

He caresses your face gently with his hand. “Can I… kiss you? Before I go?”

You swallow, leaning closer. “I… yes.”

And he does. He kisses you passionately, like that moment means everything. Like he doesn’t want tonight to end. He closes his eyes and lives in your lips, enchanted by your breath on his skin. There’s a moment, there, when you almost forget who are, where you are: You lose yourself in him.

“I’m glad you decided to break into my dorm,” you whisper as your lips part, bittersweet. You sound fragile.

“Me too.” He looks at you, wishing he could stay. But you know he can’t. “I should go.”

You nod silently, and he gets up slowly, regrettably. He watches you as he backs away.

“Bye, Jason,” you say quietly, staring at him from your bed.

“Goodbye, y/n. I… I won’t forget you. Thank you.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd imagine #red hood imagine #jason todd oneshot #red hood oneshot #jason todd smut #jason todd x reader smut #jason todd x you #red hood x reader smut #dc imagine #dc x reader

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lovergirlll-12 · 22 days

Text

Homecoming Heartache

roommate!leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: Your roommate, Leon, hasn't been answering your calls after travelling to Raccoon City. After days of an empty apartment and a head filled with worry, someone knocks on your front door.

warnings: hurt/comfort, depictions of injury

notes: Re2r Leon is honestly so fkn adorable, this is more platonic

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The apartment felt emptier than usual, the silence echoing off the bare walls. Without Leon’s awkward yet light-hearted personality, there was a void that seemed to swallow up the space. The colourful throw pillows on the couch seemed less vibrant, and the kitchen felt cold and unwelcoming without his laughter filling the room. Everything was just as he left it, yet it all felt strangely wrong, as if the apartment itself missed his presence.

You've been trying to reach Leon for days now, but every call goes unanswered. He left a few nights ago to start his new job as a cop in Raccoon City, you didn’t question when he didn’t answer your numerous calls after arriving. Presuming he was tired after his first day on the job, you figured you would get a call back from him in the morning. However, when days passed and all you got was radio silence, the worry you felt for your best friend started to grow. Call after call was sent to the authorities in your area, but you were met with reassurance that he was fine, and not to worry about him too much. Their carelessness was unnerving, and it confused you. You couldn’t shake off the worry that had been gnawing at you since he left. The unfamiliar surroundings of the new apartment felt even more uncomfortable without his presence. Every siren outside sends a pang of fear through you, wondering if it's something related to him. You try to stay rational, reminding yourself that he's trained for this, but the silence is deafening, and the unknown is unsettling.

~~~~~~~~~~

A knock on the door startles you. Eyes shooting open, you stretch your arms and legs out across the soft cotton bedsheets as your body tries to awaken itself from its deep sleep. You take a quick glance at the alarm clock beside your bed: 3:45am. The vast darkness consuming your apartment is ignored as you try to find your way out of your bedroom, through the hallway and to the front door without tripping on discarded clothing or any foreign objects. As you make your way to the front door, your hand finds the light switch to your left. With a quick flick, your apartment is illuminated, forcing your eyes to squint from the harsh light. As you rub at your eyes, still felling a bit disoriented from your lack of sleep, a chorus of aggravated knocks echo throughout the building. You step forward to unlock the door. ‘‘Alright I’m coming, you don’t have to be so impatient…’’ The sight at your front door silences you. Your heart instantly drops at the sight of Leon standing there, his normally vibrant eyes dulled with pain. His shirt is torn, revealing a bandage hastily wrapped around his torso, stained with blood. Small cuts litter his arms where bruises are already forming. You gasp, stepping back to let him in and closing the door behind him, your hands trembling as you reach out to touch him, confirming that he's real and safe, despite his injuries. The relief floods through you, mixed with a surge of protectiveness and love. Leon leans into your touch, wrapping his large arms around you, his exhaustion and pain evident, as you guide him to the couch, your mind is racing with questions and fears for what he must have gone through. You adjust your body so he can lay down comfortably above you as you run your hand up and down his back, trying to console his continuous tears. ‘‘It’s all gone’’, Leon whispers into your chest, his voice cracking. ‘‘They killed them all, they didn’t even try to save the innocent people. Let alone fix the others’’. Clouded with confusion, you decide not to question him. ‘‘Everything’s going to be okay, you’re home now,’’ you reply as you wiped the tears from his eyes with your thumb.

You couldn’t help but stare at his downcast face, never have you ever seen Leon look so broken. It took you months to get Leon to open up to you when you were first moving in. He was quiet and reserved, only speaking to you to say good morning or good night. Slowly, you two started to get closer. At first, his quiet demeanour made you wonder if conversation would always be sparse, but you soon discovered his sweetness and thoughtfulness. He was the type of person who would wash your dishes without being asked or leave little notes of encouragement around the apartment. Over time, you both developed a comfortable routine, sharing meals and watching movies together. His quiet nature didn't hinder your friendship; instead, it seemed to deepen it, creating a bond built on mutual respect and understanding. Leon became more than just a roommate; he became your best friend. Your Leon. ‘‘Why don’t we get you cleaned up and in bed?’’, you questioned while running your hands through his blonde hair. He nodded timidly as you helped him to his feet. His sunken eyes were filled with tears and his hand felt unsteady in yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

an: ignore any writing mistakes pls, this is my first post :) I might make a part 2 to go more into detail of the relationship between Leon and the reader and get past the platonic stage into some fluffy romance xx

#leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil 2 remake #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x fem reader

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dyns33 · 1 year

Text

Upon a dream

Dream x reader, being idiots, as always

Morpheus was truly the best boyfriend in the world. Romantic, poetic, attentive, tender, passionate.

If he had been real, he would have been truly wonderful.

But unfortunately such a perfect man couldn't exist, and so it was normal that Y/N only met him in her dreams.

During one of her nocturnal wanderings, she had found herself in a huge library, his library, and even if he had been surprised to find her there, he had not chased her away, allowing her to explore, showing her the castle, chatting at length with her.

It had been a beautiful dream, which she thought she would quickly forget. But she had dreamed of him again the following night, then every other night.

She was trying to convince herself that it was no big deal.

Her life wasn't so terrible, she had her family, her friends, her job, her hobbies. There were plenty of people who remained celibate all their lives and were perfectly happy being alone in front of the television, eating ice cream and imagining an ideal lover who would visit them in their sleep.

Nothing special.

"My love, you seem troubled tonight. Far from me. Are you alright ?"

"Yes, Morpheus. Excuse me, I'm just tired." Y/N apologized with a smile, snuggling into his arms to forget her worries, and the fact that he wouldn't be there when she woke up.

"Good. That's what I'm here for. You can rest in peace, I'm watching over you. What do you want to do, my love ? Lucienne would be happy to show you new books, Cain and Abel wish to tell new stories, Matthew asks for gossip from the waking world. We can also walk in the gardens, travel to the other side of the galaxy, or stay in bed. Tell me, my love, I am at your command."

"You're adorable. Anything is fine with me, as long as we do it together."

"My sweet." he whispered, kissing her.

As always, it was difficult for Y/N when she opened her eyes and found herself in her bedroom, alone, in her cold bed, just like when she went to sleep.

It was absurd, she repeated it to herself every time she was about to fall asleep, but a simple dream managed to make her feel things she had never felt in her entire existence. The human brain could really be fascinating. And dangerous.

Depressing.

Because even if she was terribly happy when she was with Morpheus, she was just as sad when she left him and returned to reality.

Several times, she had thought of talking to a doctor about it. To find a solution. But Y/N didn't really see what it was going to solve.

They were only going to tell her that she felt lonely, which she already knew, and that her dreams were trying to fill that void.

The only thing she could do was seek the company of real people when she was awake.

It was not easy.

If Y/N had been able to get a real boyfriend, she would have done it a long time ago.

And it was worse now, because no one could ever be as good as Morpheus. She was really in love with him.

In love with a dream, it was really depressing.

There was also this ridiculous idea in the back of her head, which kept telling her that it wouldn't be very proper to cheat on him. Even if he didn't exist.

He didn't exist. Morpheus didn't exist, he wasn't waiting for her in her dreams every night, he would never magically appear in front of her, and if he loved her, then he would understand that she was looking for someone to spend her life with.

After asking her friends for advice, one of them offered to introduce her to a charming man, with whom she could get along well. It was less risky than meeting a stranger, because they could tell he was a good person.

And if she didn't like him, it would be fine, she would find other suitors.

Désiré was indeed a charming man. Funny, kind, seductive. But during the whole evening they spent together, Y/N only thought of Morpheus.

When their hands touched at the end of the meal, she quickly pulled it away apologetically. He looked a little offended, but he didn't say anything, forcing a smile.

"It seems to me that I am not up to it." he sighed when it was time to part ways. "I don't like to lose, but I know when I'm not... wanted. Which doesn't happen often. He's lucky. He doesn't deserve it."

"... I don't understand what you are talking about."

"Oh, darling. I think that's the part I find the funniest. He'll be pissed that we had dinner together, but I can't imagine his reaction at all when he finds out why we had dinner together. "

"It's late, I have to go home."

"You're right. Sweet dreams." he purred, throwing a kiss at her.

Y/N did not try to understand what Désiré had meant. No doubt he had drunk too much alcohol during the meal, and he had guessed that there was someone else in her heart.

Going to bed, she relaxed thinking that she was finally going to find Morpheus and his marvellous kingdom, after this long day.

The throne room was horribly empty and cold when she materialized there. Sitting on the steps of his huge staircase, Morpheus watched her with an impassive face.

"How was my brother-sister ?"

"... Your what ?"

"Desire. You were with them all night. At first I thought I had to step in, that they were going to try to hurt you, but... Matthew told me you asked to have dinner with them. A "date". You asked your friends to find you a 'date', several 'dates'. So I'm not enough for you ? You don't love me anymore ? Are you making fun of me ?"

"Morpheus." she sighed sadly. "Of course I love you. I love you more than anything."

"But not enough to be faithful."

"Oh, I knew my mind would go to that ground, it's really not fair."

"... Your mind ?" he repeated slowly.

"Listen, I love you. But you're not real. It's just a dream. I can't wake up every morning to be reminded that this isn't true, that I'm alone, not loved, and the only times I feel some joy are during my sleep, with a being that my subconscious has invented. You are perfect, and the more time I spend with you, in this fabulous world, the more I cut myself of the real world. It's not healthy."

“It is true that it is not good for mortals to live in the Dream. But that does not mean that it is not real. That we are not real. You... You really don't know who I am ? You really don't know it's not just a dream ? It's never just a dream."

"Morpheus... Don't make me hope in vain."

"I told you to go on dates in the waking world, boss. Just because you always say you exist doesn't mean the lady is going to believe it's true."

The little raven trembled a bit when his master looked at him, flying away to rest on Y/N's shoulder, where he would be safe, for the moment.

"Maybe I should have listened to you, Matthew. But it's not too late. Desire also showed me that our love was strong, they couldn't do anything against it. I just have to make up for my mistake."

Slowly, Morpheus stood up, approaching Y/N, who didn't know what to make of this dream. It really wasn't like the other nights.

He caressed her cheek tenderly, before kissing her like every time she was going to have to leave soon.

"When you wake up my love, I'll be there and you won't have any reason to be sad, or look for another partner."

"Don't make me..."

"This dream is over."

Jumping up in bed, Y/N first looked at the window, seeing that it was still dark. She then looked at the time, which made her sigh. It was still very late.

"Good evening my love."

This time, in addition to jumping, she screamed, falling off her bed. Immediately, a man came running to her side, asking her if she was alright and helping her to sit on the mattress. He had the voice of Morpheus. And his face.

No, it was impossible.

"Well done, boss. Subtle. She wasn't scared at all."

"Silence, Matthew. My love, forgive me, I told you I would be here."

"... I'm still dreaming ?"

"No."

"So this is it, I'm crazy."

"You are not in my younger sister's domain, I can assure you. I should have explained a lot about myself to you more clearly, I should have visited you in the waking world earlier. We were so happy I was not thinking, as soon as you appeared in front of me I only wanted to be with you and I did not see that I was hurting you. I apologize. My love, I am Morpheus, Dream of the Endless, king of dreams and nightmares, prince of stories, and I am very real."

"... You are real." she said softly, touching his face to make sure he really wasn't an illusion. He closed his eyes when her fingers touched his skin, turning to make them pass on his lips. "All this time, you've been real. And I almost dated another man. You must hate me."

"I wasn't thrilled by this news, but there was a misunderstanding, so I forgive you, if you promise me never to do this again, and to stay away from Desire."

"His name is Désiré, and okay."

"Desire is my brother sister, my sibling. Another Endless. They wanted to have fun with you, at my expense, but your feelings were strong and sincere, preventing them from manipulating you, and proving to me that I had no reason to be jealous."

"But you were still a little jealous."

"No."

"Boss." muttered the raven, poking its head out of its creator's cloak. "Boss, you're really bad with girls. You always have to say yes. Yes I'm jealous, but I trust you, I love you, I don't deserve you and I'll do anything to be worthy of..."

"Thanks Matthew, you can go back to the Dreaming now."

"I'm a good wingman, I think it's safer if I stay."

"My love and I are together for the first time in the waking world, at night, in her room, on her bed."

"... See you, boss ! Madam ! Be good !"

The raven disappeared back into the cloak. Morpheus waited a few moments, as if wanting to make sure he was gone, before laying sensually on top of her, suddenly looking a bit taller, his shadow enveloping the entire room as a sort of purr emanated from him. Y/N wondered if she was really awake.

"So, my love, what do you want to do ?" he asked, as he asked her every night.

"Hmm... I'm too tired to go out. It's a little late to read, watch a movie or even dance. So what could we do ?"

"What, indeed ?"

"Is the king of dreams sleeping ? Is he dreaming ?"

"No, and no. But I think about you all the time, to the point that it interferes with my work. A lot of people often dreamed of you, because I wasn't concentrating enough."

"Are you willing to sleep with me ? I mean, sleep sleep. I'm really tired. But if you're here tomorrow morning... You know."

"It would be an honour for me to watch over you while you sleep. I already do it every night, but to hold you in my arms while you are asleep. It is the most beautiful proof of love and trust. Not many people realize that there is nothing more vulnerable than a sleeping being. Thank you for this gift, my love."

Smiling, Y/N snuggled up to him after being settled under the covers. She would have liked to listen to his heart before falling asleep, but obviously he had none. He didn't need it, he wasn't human.

They would talk about that later, and the consequences that implied.

But now she was tired, and happy that Morpheus was really there, in her bed.

"Are you really not going to sleep ?"

"No. I'm going to beg my father for the night to pass faster, so that it's morning and we… You know."

Y/N would also ask him about his strange family when she was better awake. In the meantime, she fell asleep peacefully in the arms of Morpheus, who sang her a lullaby while stroking her hair.

#sandman #the sandman #dream #dream of the endless #dream of the endless fanfiction #dream of the endless x reader #morpheus #morpheus x reader #tom sturridge

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 1 year

Text

violet soul

a smutty lucifer x reader fic for your enjoyment have fun <3 i feel embarrassed i was able to produce such filth :))))))

triggers warnings: dubious consent (the reader is not sober while giving consent! while they do believe they have given consent, they are not realising they're being manipulated into it!) and just like rough sex i guess haha but nothing requiring a specific trigger warning

hope you enjoy!!!

*slithers back into the void*

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You started having… dreams, recently. Very odd dreams. They feel real, way too real, and you wake covered in sweat, and the only thing you are able to think about is the dream, as if you’re still there. When you manage to fall asleep again, you simply continue where you left off.

The dreams consume your waking life. You think about them constantly. Images, smells and sounds remind you of them.

After a few weeks, you visit a therapist and complain about nightmares. She listens and nods sympathetically, and then she asks what the dreams are about. You open your mouth to tell her and find that you can’t.

“They aren’t about anything, really. They are just… vivid,” you say, feeling embarrassed because of course you know what they’re about. If only you could remember right now.

She looks at you with confusion in her eyes. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” she says gently.

You wish you could, but you don’t know. You spend the rest of the session talking about things that don’t matter.

Later, you leave her office with a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You feel like a woman possessed.

The second you leave her office you remember the dreams again.

In your dreams, you wonder aimlessly through a very dark place. Nothing happens, really, but it’s scary. Everything is so vivid, so lifelike. You feel the cold stone underneath your feet, the unbearable heat in the air that makes it hard to breathe, the smell of something rotten, something burning. You can never find your way out. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of… creatures. You always make it a point to avoid them. They pay no attention to you anyhow, but they are disturbing to look at, their faces contorted, deformed, burned, melted. Some have teeth like wild animals, some have no faces at all. You couldn't describe them in detail, really, you never stare. You always feel like there is someone watching you, but when you turn, there is no one around.

The therapy session feels like a defeat and you call a friend to complain. They are sympathetic. You talk for a while, and you feel better — finally, someone understands you. Maybe you aren’t crazy after all.

Then she asks you what the dreams are about. You open your mouth and nothing comes out. Your voice is gone.

“Hello? Do you hear me?” your friend asks. You stare at your phone.

“I’m here,” you say, your voice miraculously returning. “My mom is calling me. I’ll call you later, okay?”

You hang up. You call your mom and another friend. You cannot tell any of them about the nightmares. Either your voice disappears, or you can’t remember a single thing about the dreams. The concern and disbelief in their voices make your stomach churn. You know they don’t believe you. You feel crazy.

It’s evening already and you are so tired. You have run out of people to call and you’re not sure you’d even want to call anyone anymore. You feel on edge, weeks of poor sleep making you paranoid. You start wondering whether all of this is another nightmare. You try pinching yourself to wake up. It doesn’t work. You curl up on the sofa and turn on the TV, turning the channel to something mindless.

You don’t notice when you fall asleep.

You are in that place again. A sickly sweet smell of something rotten is filling the air. The dark corridor you find yourself in is long and narrow, lit by torches that cast an orange glow onto the dark stone around you. There are doors all throughout it. You turn around. The corridor seems to be never-ending on both sides. You suppose there is no difference which direction you take, then. As soon as you start walking you see the door in front of you open and a black demon with no face steps onto the corridor. You scream and run in the opposite direction. You hear no footsteps behind you and you know it isn’t following you — they never do — but you can’t make yourself stop running. You run and you run and you run through the never-ending corridor. It’s hard to breathe, the air is so hot and it’s stuffy and you’re feeling dizzy and you hear your heartbeat in your ears, but you never stop.

You don’t know how long you’ve been running when you find yourself at the end of the corridor. There is a grand door in front of you. Without thinking you try to open it, and it’s so heavy you have to use your entire body weight to push it.

As you open the door, you find that the air is suddenly lighter. The rotten smell is no longer there, and instead it smells faintly of violets. Violets are your favourite flowers. You inhale deeply, relieved you can finally breathe.

The place you find yourself in is enormous, lit by torches. The ceiling is so high you aren’t sure you can see all the way up to it. You could look around for hours and still not be able to take it all in. As you observe the enormous hall, your eyes catch a glimpse a tall, dark figure standing a few feet away from you. It has huge, black wings. You wonder how you didn’t notice it immediately upon entering. The figure is looking at you.

You know that’s the Devil. For some reason, you aren’t surprised.

Somehow, you are now standing next to each other.

The Devil is beautiful, you think, with their cherubic face and bouncy white curls that seem so soft, almost angelic, and you have to fight the urge run your fingers through them.

The Devil is tall, so tall. Their stature is elegant, feminine. You admire their broad shoulders, the gentle curve of their breasts underneath their silken red robe, their imposing, black wings.

What really pulls you in are the eyes. It’s not that they’re a lovely cerulean blue, so deep you might get lost in them, it’s that they are looking at your very soul.

They are the first to speak.

“Finally, we meet officially, little lamb.”

Their voice sounds like the sweetest sin, silky and smooth and melodious. You find yourself enamoured with it.

“Are you behind my nightmares?” you ask.

“How pleasant your stay here is is entirely up to you,” they say and cock their head.

“What do you mean, my stay here? This is a dream. I am still at home, in my bed,” you say, confused.

“Not quite. You could be, if you so wished. But you wished to be here, didn’t you?” The corner of their lip curls slightly, as if they find all of this amusing.

“I haven’t slept in weeks, and you tell me that’s by my own volition? That I wished to be here?”

You can’t believe your ears.

“Think, little lamb,” they say, their voice sickly sweet. “You have called for me, don’t you remember? You said you were lonely.”

Dread fills you when you realise you do remember. It was a joke, a drunken escapade. You were out with your friends, drinking. You went into the woods. The moon was full. You were, as per usual, the clown of the group, making everyone laugh, complaining how you were the only one without a girlfriend. You climbed onto an old log, and proclaimed, “I would sell my soul to the Devil for a girlfriend! Fuck, I am so lonely!” and you laughed, and everyone laughed. They teased you, saying you surely don’t mean it, and you said, “of course I mean it,” and you spun around, took a swig of the cheap wine you brought along, and called upon the Devil three more times.

“Tell the Devil I mean it”, you said, “tell her I’d fuck her if she would have me, I am so fucking horny,” and you laughed and everyone laughed, and you were drunk, and you don’t remember the rest of the night or how you got home. The next morning you were so hungover you barely remembered anything that happened.

Until now.

“Loneliness is a demon that eats at people. I would know,” they chuckle, the sweetest sound. “Especially humans… Humans crave connection, they simply long for it. And you are lonely, my sweet little dove, I can feel it.”

“I—” you started, but they interrupt you.

“Don’t worry, lamb, I am here to help you. That’s why you’ve asked for me, haven’t you?”

You want to tell them you didn’t ask for this, it was a mistake, you didn’t really mean it, you were drunk, you take it back—

Their silky voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Tell me, would you like to be my friend?”

When the Devil asks you to be their friend you ought to tread carefully.

“What happens if I refuse the Devil’s offer for friendship?” you ask.

They chuckle. They lean in, impossibly close. You are scared to death, afraid they will hurt you. You squeeze your eyes shut. You feel them in your space, around you, everywhere. Their wings flutter around you.

They don’t lay a finger on you, however. You feel hot breath on your ear.

“I prefer Lucifer,” they whisper in your ear. You notice that Lucifer smells faintly of violets and burning wood.

“I realise you are reluctant to accept my offer for friendship. However, would you like to take a stroll with me?”

You open your eyes and see them towering over you. A shiver runs down your spine.

You are still unsure.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Lucifer says, “but it will probably be a while before you wake. Might as well kill the time.”

They do have a point, you think.

“I guess we can take a stroll,” you say and they grin at you. It’s a dangerous sort of smile. You find it incredibly charming.

They offer you their arm to lean on. After a second of consideration, you take it.

Their arm is warm, and as you link yours underneath it you immediately feel safe.

You blink, and suddenly you are in the most beautiful garden you have ever seen. Your mouth gapes open in awe.

“Are we still in Hell?” you ask.

“We are indeed. This is where I take my friends.”

You stay silent for a moment, taking in the beauty around you as you walk. Violets are blooming at every step.

“How did you know violets are my favourite flower?”

“Oh, are they? A mere coincidence,” says Lucifer and grins widely at you, flashing their white teeth.

You walk together for a while. Their strong arm is supporting you and you can’t help but be enamoured with them. Every once in a while, you feel their wing brush against your back. It sends delicious shivers down your spine. Their white curls are bouncing ever so slightly as they walk and you find yourself staring. They don’t seem to mind. The weirdest thing is, you can’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful. You find yourself thinking you could get used to this.

“Why do you want me as your friend, though?” you ask after a while, “What do you hope to gain from that?”

“Why, I hope gain a friend. And as for why I want you in particular as my friend…” they stop walking and look at you. “I do find your soul utterly captivating.”

“I must admit, I am surprised you haven’t asked what you will gain from our friendship. Don’t you wish to know?” they cock their head ever so slightly. Their piercing eyes are looking at your soul again. You feel naked. You cannot look away.

“Tell me, please,” you say.

“Think of every desire you’ve ever had. Every sinful thought that ever crossed your mind. Everything you never thought you could have. Do it.”

You do it.

“Did you imagine it?” They take your chin in their hand. You feel your skin tingle under their fingers. They lean in, closer, closer, closer, until their nose is almost touching yours. You feel their hot breath on your lips.

“It’s yours to have now.”

You feel dizzy. Your chest is heaving. You feel a craving, a desire you can’t name, and you can imagine the sweet gratification of its fulfilment.

“Everything?” you ask, your voice hoarse.

“Everything,” they say, and the hot breath that washes over your lips makes you wild. They are still holding your chin. It’s not painful but you can’t move.

“May I… make a request then?” You are so overcome by desire that you struggle to think.

They chuckle, a puff of heat on your lips. “Greedy girl. You already made your request that night in the woods. But I will humour you. Make one more.”

You barely comprehend what they’re saying. All you feel is desire. Your eyes drift to their wings.

“May I… touch your wings?”

You want to touch their beautiful wings so badly, but you are waiting for permission. There is a second of silence. To you, it seems like an eternity.

Finally, they speak.

“I said, whatever you desire. I fulfil my promises.”

They turn around slowly. You find yourself face to face with their wings. They are jet black, but you can see little veins running through them if you look closely. They seem impossibly smooth.

You reach as far up as you can and run the back of your fingers all the way to the place where the wings grow out of their back. Lucifer shivers.

Encouraged by that reaction you repeat the same motion again and again, then mirror it on the other wing with your other hand. Then you run your hands all along the base of their wings.

Lucifer moans.

The sound sends a jolt straight to your core. The wave of arousal helps you gather the courage to plant a hot kiss on their right wing. They moan again. You continue to kiss your way to the base of their wings, then all the way down along their spine until you reach the very end of it. The moans they are letting out are unholy. You fall down to your knees, your hands on their hips now. You want to continue your way down, but you are not sure if you’re allowed to. It takes an absurd amount of effort to stop.

“Can I?” you ask, hoping, praying they will say yes.

They turn around and look down at you. Their piercing gaze makes you dizzy, makes you want to pray to the Devil.

They snap their fingers and suddenly you are in that grand hall from before. There is a throne there now and they are sitting on it. You are still on your knees in front of them.

“Take what you desire,” they say.

“You may touch me here,” they touch their knee, “or here,” they move their hand upwards on their thigh, “or there,” they slip their hand underneath their red robe. When they pull their hand out their fingers are glistening. You feel your mouth water.

“Or even there,” they continue, their tone almost nonchalant, as they slowly, deliberately pull the robe off of their shoulders, exposing two small, perfect breasts. “Wherever you wish, my pet.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You start by kissing their leather boot. They seem to like that.

“Yes,” they say, their voice breathy, “worship me.”

And worship them you do.

You slowly reach underneath their long red robe, running your hands over their boots and then reaching their smooth knees. You spread the robe open and kiss your way up their calves to their knees. You are moving on from their knees to their thighs, leaving a trail of hot kisses on their impossibly soft skin, when they move one of their legs up and put it over the armrest of the throne, spreading themselves in front of you. They aren’t wearing anything underneath the robe and you are met with the sight of their glistening arousal. You barely stop yourself from burying your face in those silky folds immediately — you want to kiss your way up to them, you want to savour it.

You continue kissing their milky thighs, revelling in the way they feel under your lips. Lucifer’s breathing is getting more ragged by the second. You bite into their thigh. It feels like sin.

“Naughty thing,” they let out a breathy chuckle. “Bite me again.”

You bite their thigh again and they moan. You can’t restrain yourself anymore and you bury your face into their pussy. They grab a fistful of your hair. You suck, you lick, and there is no method to it, only lust. You are overwhelmed by how good their arousal tastes and you just want more, more, more.

Their wings flutter around you. One of them touches your back, and you remember how much you caressing them made them moan.

Lucifer is grinding on your face now and it’s so hot you almost don’t manage to pull away. You look up at them and say, “I want to touch your wings.”

“Go ahead, then,” they say. They are ever so slightly out of breath and their gaze is hooded and heavy.

You climb up into their lap. With one hand you reach between their legs, running your fingers along their wetness, and with the other you start caressing one of their wings. The moan Lucifer lets out as soon as your hand touches their wing is sin itself. You start kissing their neck as you caress the wing with one hand and circle their clit with the other. You keep the motions on their clit steady, but you experiment with touching their wings, squeezing their breasts, alternating between the two, touching different spots, seeing which one makes them moan louder. What sends them over the edge is when you give their wing a hot, open mouthed kiss. They let out a high pitched moan and you feel them tense up underneath you. You continue to touch them until they push your hands away.

Their orgasm is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed. But still, you desire more, more, more. You feel frenzied and hot all over.

“Please,” you say, “may I request one more thing?”

“You’ve requested enough things,” they say and push you away from their lap. You fall on the floor.

“Please, I will do anything.”

Mistake. But you don’t care. Lust is making you lose your mind.

“Anything? Well, aren’t you a greedy little slut.”

The word sounds sinful when they say it, their gentle voice and angelic face clashing with the crudeness of it on their lips.

They get up from the throne, silken robe closing around their legs, no longer exposing them. Their breasts are still bared. They tower above you.

“First you get drunk, like a naughty little girl you are, then you go into the woods and call for Lucifer Morningstar, the Ruler of Hell, like they’re a servant who is here to grant your pathetic little desires.”

You are still on the floor, looking up at them. You feel like you’re about to cry, but you are also still burning with desire, the ache between your legs not waning for a second. It’s almost uncomfortable.

“And now, you ask me to touch you. Greedy, greedy girl,” they sneer.

“However, to show you I am still interested in being your friend, I will grant your request. Get up.”

You get up as quickly as you can. You feel hot, way too hot. You feel a throb between your legs, uncomfortable, unrelenting. You wonder if that’s what happens when you fuck the Devil.

They grab your jaw. “You like it when I do that, don’t you?”

You want to nod, but you can’t, their grip is too strong. “Yes,” you say instead.

“Let me tell you a little secret, as your friend.” They lean in. Smell of violets overwhelms you. “I like it too,” they whisper. Their hot breath on your ear almost makes you fall apart.

They let out a melodious chuckle and kiss your neck. You shiver, but you feel like you’re on fire.

“Oh, poor thing,” they coo at you. “I haven’t even started yet, and you are already falling apart. Tell me, pet, what made you think you’d be able to endure being fucked by me, hm?”

“I… didn’t think that. I didn’t think anything, I was drunk—” you say, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, but you did, sweet lamb. You said it yourself. Tell the Devil I mean it, tell her I’d fuck her if she would have me, I am so fucking horny.” Their voice is sickeningly sweet. “Well, what if she would have you, hm? What would you do then?”

“I—I don’t know.” You can only think about the ache between your legs.

“Hm. Well, then I shall have to fuck you and see.”

They bite into your neck. You cry out. They grab a fistful of your hair and pull you towards themselves, clashing your lips together. They forcefully slip their tongue into your mouth, claiming you, making you theirs. You can barely breathe.

They snap their fingers and suddenly you’re naked. If this was any other scenario, you’d feel self conscious, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You are consumed by lust and you feel like you’re going crazy.

They break the kiss. “You wanted me to touch you. Like this?”

You gasp when they slap you. You hate yourself for liking it.

“You like that, I know,” they say softly, “but it’s not enough. You still need more. Tell me, what would you do for more?”

“Anything.”

You’re burning.

“Anything? Oh, I do hope you mean that.”

They lean in and kiss the cheek they just slapped, the softest, warmest kiss that makes you tingle. It feels like heaven. They run their hands over your breasts, squeezing them with gusto, then pinch and twist your nipples forcefully, making you yelp.

“Will you be my friend, then?” they ask sweetly, pulling you closer and squeezing your ass, making you moan.

You are too dizzy and too hot to form sentences. They spank you forcefully. You moan again, louder this time.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, yes, anything,” you say.

They smile. It’s lecherous and it sends a shiver straight to your core.

“Finally, pet. But you have kept me waiting for far too long. I feel like some sort of punishment must be in order.”

They snap their fingers again and you find yourself bent over their knee as they sit on their throne.

“Thirthy-three strikes. Count.”

They don’t give you even a second to process the command before they start spanking you. You lose count immediately, only aware of the delicious jolts to your core each time they spank you.

“I said, count.” They spank you so forcefully you see stars. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “Now look what you’ve done, I have to start all over again.”

They start spanking you again, and this time you count. It gets harder towards the end, and you can't stop yourself from crying. Your pussy is throbbing with need— you’ve never experienced anything quite that intense — and each slap on your red ass makes you flinch. Pain and pleasure mix in a delicious way and it’s overwhelming, but you still need more.

“Thirty-three,” you finally cry out as they spank you for the last time.

Not giving you a second to recover, they pull you up into their lap with ease. You wince in pain as your ass touches their thigh.

“Aw, poor baby,” they say mockingly. “Let me dry those tears.”

They catch one of your tears with their finger and put it in their mouth. They moan in pleasure at the taste.

“Delicious. Try it.” They catch another tear, ever so gently, then slip two fingers into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You obey.

“See, you can be a good girl when you want to,” they say gently. “Yes, such a good girl.”

You melt at their praise. It makes you warm all over. They pull their finger out of your mouth with a wet pop.

They kiss you again, this time softly, delicately. They run their nails over your back, the most gentle of touches, but it makes you shiver and burn and shake. They put one hand on your neck, tangle it into your hair, bringing you closer, closer, closer, while the other hand finds itself on your waist. They slip their tongue in your mouth, and you lose yourself in their touch. You don’t know where you end and where Lucifer begins anymore, and that ache between your legs feels like actual hellfire. Maybe it is actual hellfire. Maybe that’s what happens when the Devil fucks you. You don’t know.

Their hands are everywhere, and you aren’t sure how many hands there are anymore, and you don’t know where you are, you don’t know who you are — the only thing you are aware of is Lucifer and fire, fire, fire between your legs.

“Yes, my sweet lamb, moan for me,” they purr, and you are surprised to realise you are moaning rather loudly and unabashedly. You are barely aware of your actions, no longer in control of your body.

After an eternity of delicious agony, their fingers graze your clit. You feel like you’re about to fall apart.

They circle your clit, agonisingly slowly, and you wail. You tangle your fingers into their soft hair, trying to hold onto something to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Oh, darling, I am barely touching you,” they say sweetly. “I do have to ask you before you lose yourself completely, do you want to stay here with me?”

You can barely comprehend what they’re saying. “Stay?” you manage to utter through your moans. You try to rut against their hand, but they grab you by the hips, holding you still.

“Yes, lamb, stay still for a second longer, yes, that’s it,” they coo at you. “Good girl. Yes, will you stay here with me forever? For all eternity?”

“Eternity…?”

There is a distant alarm going off somewhere in your head, but you can’t pull yourself together long enough to think rationally. They run their fingers over your wet slit and suddenly there are no more thoughts left in your mind.

“Yes, my sweet. An eternity of pleasure, an eternity of this,” they hiss as they slip a finger inside of you. You grip their hair tighter, afraid you will fall apart. You have never experienced pleasure as intense as this.

“Yes,” you say, “yes, yes, yes, please, yes. I want you so much, oh please, fuck—”

They start pumping their finger in and out, slowly, hitting just the perfect spot, but it’s not enough, you need more.

“More, please, more, aah—” you scream as they slip another finger and start fucking you forcefully. It’s the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced.

“Do we have a deal, then?” they ask, completely calm and collected as they fuck you into oblivion.

If you were in your right mind, you would have been wary of making any sort of deal with the Devil. If you were in your right mind, you would have realised your fate was sealed that night in the woods and that they had you all along. But considering the Devil is currently kuckle deep in you, you have no chance. They know that. They simply enjoy toying with their prey.

The only thing you manage to do is to scream an ear-piercing “yes” as you come.

When you come down from your high, the fire you felt before is no longer between your legs, and it is no longer pleasant. It is in your soul. The air no longer smells of violets — it smells like rotten flesh.

Lucifer gives you their sweetest smile. They look like a true cherub, the prettiest of angels.

“Welcome to Hell, sweet lamb.”

#lucifer morningstar #the sandman #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #gwendoline christie #is a tag i guess i should use #but i feel too filthy to use her name as a tag for this garbage ahahahah #i guess i did it anyways #amazing how i can produce an almost 5000 words fic when i'm procrastinating work lol #this is smutty smutty smut fest #pls pay attention to the trigger warnings

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thatkarleesidraws · 12 days

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You wanna know why I like Dazai so much?

It’s because he resonates with me. When I was 18 and severely depressed, I went to the club every weekend. Friday, Saturday and sometimes even Thursday til 5 in the morning, blackout drunk, smoking one cigarette after another, waking up with a massive hangover, just to fill that void in my chest.

Of course it didn’t help. I’ve known it back then, and I know it now. But slipping into those self-destructive behaviours was better than not feeling anything at all.

I don’t know when it started. Maybe I was just born with it. All I knew was that I don’t feel like I belong here and that I want to go home.

I’ve been the golden child, the smart kid that got good grades without studying much. But where did it get me now? I’m 25, working through my second therapy, taking antidepressants again and I have no idea what to do with my life. I have no desire in earning a whole lot of money, no desire to contribute anything to society, no desire to exist.

It’s odd, really. Contradicting even. I find a lot of things beautiful. Music, art, nature, sometimes even people. Always seeing the world through the eyes of a child. Though somehow I’m always at war with myself, trying to bend and force my mind to function properly.

I’m not even sad. I just don’t know what to do or say anymore. I’m so tired of explaining myself, tired of being the “funny friend”, tired of always listening to others. I don’t even want anything anymore.

But there he is. A fictional man, with a dark past who pretends to be silly and carefree even though he’s dying inside, who puts my thoughts into better words than I ever could. That is why I love Dazai so much. Because there is this one character that gives me the feeling that I’m not alone in my suffering. Is it delusional? Yeah, maybe. But I can’t be bothered. He gives me a sense of belonging in this world of pure chaos and for that I cannot thank him enough.

#just a little ramble #if you know me irl don’t text me #I’m okay I just needed to get this off my chest #osamu dazai #dazai #bsd dazai #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungou sd #bungou stray dogs dazai #dazai osamu #dazai bsd #no longer human #mental health awareness #mental health #I suck at living #kafka asagiri

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ani-dirty-imagines · 2 years

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Jealous Giyuu

This contains sfw and ns(f)w content. MINORS DNI!

Giyuu is generally not the jealous type but his jealousy blooms the deeper you are in the relationship. If you’ve gotten to know him more and if he’s gotten to know you then the more he’ll show signs of wanting you all to himself.

Giyuu hates talking and isn’t too good at controlling a crowd so when he’s jealous he makes sure to keep you with him rather than have you out of sight. He’d want you in the same space as he is and will make excuses to keep you there. (“Can you help me clean the engawa?“, “Please help me find my belt.”, “I’m tired, please cook for me”.)

Usually one to keep his distance from others, things change dramatically when he’s jealous. He’ll scoot a little closer to you especially in public and he’d justify his actions by telling you he’s just getting ready since demons have been rampant lately.

He shows his jealousy through subtle touches. When you hand him his lunch he’d let his hand linger on yours for a moment longer than he should. When you try to wipe his sweat off he’d hold you by the wrist while you do it.

If you’re extroverted, Giyuu might have a little bit more trouble tackling his emotions since he doesn’t want to bother your interactions. In a much more quiet space he’d come to you, hold your hand gently, and ask in a voice just above a whisper if you still like him or not.

NS(F)W

He lets his actions speak for themselves. He’d pin you against the wall the moment you get back home. It’ll start with a kiss on the neck, then a bite, the a kiss on the lips that’ll take your breath away. He’ll have such a tight grip on you, so tight he could fuck you standing up.

When he does use his words he uses the same monotone voice but with an icy and even commanding edge to it. There’s just something in the way he bluntly says “Take your shirt off” or “On your knees” that makes you do it right then and there.

He likes making you look at the way he fucks you. If he sees you close your eyes as he thrusts into you then he’d grab your hair and tell you in that cold tone of his to keep your eyes open or he'll stop. He’d keep thrusting into you in deep yet slow thrusts long enough to make you squirm on the spot while he teases you for taking him so well. How much you throb and swallow him up. That you were made for him.

Since he’s jealous and wants people to know you’re his then he’d have you say his name. With each hard slap of his hips onto yours he’d want you to say his name louder each time. The louder you say it the more he’ll reward you with the bruising grip he has on your hips and the way his mouth bites down on your skin to create marks that’ll show who you really belong to.

If you’d allow him, Giyuu would love to fill you up. He’d fill you up more times than you can count and point out the way his cum is pouring out of you. He’d paint you white and kiss you over and over again until your lips are puffy and swollen while he continues to push his cum in deeper.

Aftercare with Giyuu is cute and sweet. He’d apologise immediately and he’d even be a little wobbly. It’ll feel unreal that this man was the same man fucking a whole new void only he can fill in you moments ago. Either way he gets you a glass of water and prepares a bath for the both of you. You never know maybe he’d continue showing you who you belong to while you’re taking a bath together 👀

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anxiousgirl · 2 months

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facts about me that are embarrassing and/or disturbing lol

I am a high school drop out and never went to university

I often prefer to stay home on the weekends cause it’s easy (and then i complain about not doing enough)

I spend money like crazy and I don’t save my money. I shop because I think I can fill the void with stuff lol

I tend to seek attention from people who are less inclined to give it to me than people who give it freely

I am not an independent person. I ask for help a lot, I’m pretty needy

I am really shy and rather conservative about sex and intimacy even though I have a high libido and love having sex. I have many “rules” I abide by around it.

I am very uncomfortable with confrontation most of the time

I get lonely a lot but I also find most people annoying to be around

my hair has always been very thin but it is currently at its all-time thinnest. I wear extensions sometimes when I go out and I feel 100 times more confident whenever I wear them and so sad when I remove them

I am very scared for when my parents die. despite the fact I have a challenging relationship with them, I don’t know how I will function

once I’ve cared about someone, I always will. No matter how much they’ve fucked me over, I can’t turn off caring. It sounds like a nice sentiment but it applies to someone who tried to r4pe me and so it’s actually really disconcerting

I have a lot of self hatred and negative self perception and it influences a lot of my behaviour in a shitty way

I am tired of being single but I also refuse to try to meet new people lol I think I fear people in general and I also am scared of relationships even though I want one

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writer-and-artist27 · 29 days

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Tumblr Story: Two Robins

Note: For @dollya-robinprotector. Because the writing urge hit and I wanted to send you something to destress. Also inspired by this comic you made on your other blog.

An informal sequel to “Reformed Bully,” basically. Because when life throws lemons, I make lemonade out of them. While listening to the song titled, My First Friend.

Stories for friends work like that. :)

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“Another world through a magic door, huh…?”

Vy couldn’t help but sit up in her place at the guest couch and slowly open her eyes at the sound of Robin’s voice. Even if he wasn’t her Robin, Lya’s Robin looked contemplative while taking off his apron in the now-cleaned kitchen, wiping some peanut butter off his hands with a napkin with a quiet hum. “Considering you were able to find a cookie recipe this easy to make,” he said with a soft laugh, “I probably shouldn’t be surprised at magic doors considering my sweetie’s habit of getting involved with a lot of people.”

“And…” Vy internally cursed herself for her low social battery, forcing her voice out as much as she could for Robin to notice, “who says… that habit is… a bad thing when… she still has… you, Robin?”

The brunette man turned to look at her with wide green eyes, the freckles on his face twitching before he smiles. “…That’s true,” he said in a softer voice, hanging his apron up on a nearby rack before opening the refrigerator and pulling out a water bottle. “But if you’re tired, Vy, you can use the couch to rest. You’re the guest here and you didn’t have to play with the kids.” The smile on his face widens to a grin once he walks over to place the water bottle in Vy’s ungloved hands, sitting down next to her soon after. “Though as one of their dads, I’m really grateful for your help.”

“Whitney looked… tired, y’know?” Her grip is shaky on the bottle cap once Vy twists at it to open the beverage, lifting the whole bottle carefully to drink the cold water inside for some energy. “Baking… cookies for the kids… is something I can do… considering they were curious… and I started it… by giving him some…” And sure, Chaldea didn’t have toddlers in its large roster of Servants (baby Caren notwithstanding — she was a unique case) — but her experience with kids thankfully wasn’t null and void. Plus their reactions to the “magic” of the three-ingredient peanut butter cookies were so so cute. Even recapping the water bottle in her hands after drinking half felt like an effort worth doing as she said, “So I… I wanted to help… besides…”

Robin leans forward to rest his chin against his palms, peering into her face with a curious expression. “Besides…?”

“It’s what…” Vy smiled, doing her best to ignore the urge to cough from how weak her voice felt in her throat. “It’s what… my Robin… would’ve done.”

Robin’s green eyes widened again — reminding Vy of Chaldea, of her Robin — before his brows furrowed against his forehead. “…You said that before,” he said in a quieter voice, one of his hands leaving his face in favor of reaching out towards her. Not nearly enough to touch, but close enough to the point of nearly patting her hair. “What is your Robin like, Vy? You said you saw some of him in Whit, which led you to us.”

How to respond… Vy turned her head to look at her lap, fidgeting with a hem of her skirt from the Chaldean Decisive Battle uniform. Her pockets still had some markers and her whiteboard, so—

“Vy…?” Lya’s Robin paused, a hand hovering close to hers once she put the half-full water bottle to the side and subsequently pulled out her writing set, carefully trying to uncap the nearest marker — pink this time, it seemed — to start scribbling a response.

“Energy… low…” Vy said hastily to fill in the silence, shaking her head. “Gonna have to… write to you… Robin… so excuse me.”

Past the shade of her low ponytail, it thankfully didn’t hide the understanding look that dawned on Robin’s face, his newest smile sympathetic towards her as he nodded. “You’re excused.”

“Th-Thankie…” With one grateful gulp of air, Vy wrote as quickly yet as neatly as she could, the words coming naturally to the forefront of her mind. My Robin is my hero.

Turning the board over to let Lya’s Robin read the words had his green eyes widen yet again. “Your hero…?”

Forcing energy into her next nod, Vy turned her whiteboard back to write more. I grew up with him, she “said,” doing her best to school the incoming blush on her face with a tiny cough. Whenever I was sad, whenever I needed to get away, he was there. In his green cape, whistling a tune, and hiding one eye away with his hair. Just by being himself and staying with me.

Vy wasn’t surprised to hear Robin chuckle at the word “hair” on her board once she turned the words toward him. “If your Robin has one eye hidden by his hair, I can understand why you reached out to Whit, then.”

They’re similar in some ways, Whitney and my Robin. Behavior, looks, and voice, aye. Pasts are definitely different. Vy could tell even when having known Whitney for only half of a day. They both were rough around the edges, self-proclaimed “cowards,” easy to cover up their insecurities with lies, but— In the end, Robin inspires me. He makes me feel safe. He helps me keep going. That's why he’s “Big Robin” to me.

“…Does he now?” Lya’s Robin says softly, glancing at the whiteboard before looking at Vy with a sad look to his green eyes. “Is that what a hero is to you, Vy? Someone who can be big and protect you?”

Not even the fatigue stopped Vy from hearing the longing in Robin’s voice, the lingering regret lacing his words, and she immediately turned her whiteboard back to herself to scribble a response.

I didn’t look up to my Robin just because he was big and protected me. Sure, he’s taller than me, and yes, he’s protected me, but he did more than that. Some of her “o”s looked loopy to her tired eye, but she still pointed them to Lya’s Robin for the man to read, tapping the underlined “more” with a face. Being a hero for someone can just be as simple as making sure there’s a home to come back to. A safe place to tuck away and be fine in someone’s arms. And if you’re worrying about that with Lya and your kids, Robin, I think you don’t have to.

“...Huh?” The brunette blinks at her response, and Vy smiles, lowering her whiteboard to the lap of her skirt. She knew if she spoke up, she might not be able to do the same for the rest of the day, but—

“You’re… like my Robin too…” Vy eventually croaked, keeping as much cheer as she could once Lya’s Robin gaped at her. Her hands felt a bit like lead had been injected into them, but it didn’t matter. “You both… worry about… doing enough… for the people you love… and I wanna say… you’re okay.”

“Vy…” Robin whispered, his green eyes betraying his experiences and concerns. Living as an orphan, trying to make ends meet under cruel circumstances, hoping Lya could be happy… A soft choking noise made his voice wobble once he said with shimmering wetness characteristic of tears in his eyes, “You really think so?”

Vy knew that her Robin could and would make that exact same face (especially when she pushed herself too hard). It was why she smiled at Lya’s Robin, raising one shaky gloved hand to pat his frozen outstretched one.

“I… know so. Because… because my Big Robin… taught me small kindnesses… like baking and hugging and helping… matter. So Robin… I think you’re plenty big… for Lya, Whitney, Alex… and your kids too.” A note of longing came out to grace the air between them, a cursory glance at the living room around them confirming to Vy that she was almost envious. “Having a farm like this… being able to safely have a family… not a lot of people can say the same. So… give yourself more credit. You can… be ‘big’ in your own way too. Cooking… and games… and being you.”

Especially when I know how hard it is to fight for the home you want. When the home I want is still out of reach.

It was why Vy decided not to mention the plight of Humanity back in her world, what with the Foreign God and all of her fucking bullshit, in favor of grabbing a wad of tissues from her other skirt pocket to offer to the man sitting next to her. The tears in Robin’s eyes only grew in size against his lashes, but he was smiling once he took the tissues to wipe at his face. “Th-Thank you,” he choked out after a moment, a few droplets falling to the couch cushions between them as he laughed. “I-I didn’t know I needed to hear that before I heard it.”

Vy smiled, vaguely making out a silhouette of pink starting to emerge from the hallway behind Robin before nodding her head. “Aye. That can… definitely happen… and if you can’t believe it… why don’t you ask your sweetie?”

As if on cue, flowers seem to burst open in the air. “Of course, my gentle songbird!” Lya announces her sudden entrance with a tight hug to Robin from behind, falling to her knees and winding her arms around her husband’s neck enough to make the man squeak. “Vy has the right idea!”

“L-Lya…” Robin sniffles, but he looks happier once she’s in the picture, enough for relief to spread throughout Vy’s chest as she slowly scooted a foot or so away to give the happy couple some space. “I… I really am doing enough for you?”

“Of course you are! You’re my Robin!” Lya pouts when resting her chin atop Robin’s brown hair, shaking her head. “I love you more than anything, sweetie!”

“Sweetie…”

Vy closed her eyes to the sight, already feeling a little awkward if not for the lingering fatigue still in her systems, and thus debated stepping out. It didn’t feel right to say anything with Lya already reassuring her hubby better with lots of hugs and kisses beyond her closed eyelids, so…

“Muu…?”

Her back and legs suddenly weren’t on the couch anymore. Vy slowly blinked, feeling mana carry her up into the air and barely hearing Robin’s surprised “whoa” along the way. Her half-full water bottle, whiteboard and assorted markers were floating up with her, highlighted by — by purple runes? It would certainly explain why the floating was very much gentle, but if runes were here—

The corner of her blurry vision past her glasses let her see a single glimpse of violet and green before toned, muscular arms wrapped themselves around the backs of her shoulders and the undersides of her knees, holding her in a princess carry. “I look away for five minutes,” said a familiar voice above her head, “and then I find you’re pushing yourself again, little sparrow. Past another magical door too.”

“All in… good intentions, Big Robin…!” Vy still didn’t stop her Robin from holding her close enough for their foreheads to touch, a weak giggle leaving her lips once the tip of his nose rubs hers. Mint tickled the insides of her nostrils as she said, “Didn’t use… any mana… and was… able to bake… magic peanut butter cookies…!”

“Which, little one,” Skadi interrupted with a soft clapping of her hands to dispel her wand into a flash of light (just so that Lya and her hubby wouldn’t notice, maybe?), chuckling while plucking the floating bottle and whiteboard materials out of the air to keep close to her chest for safekeeping. The smile on her delicate features looked wry and exasperated to oddly match the fond sparkle in her red eyes as she went on with, “you could have done that after taking your daily nap. I may be the last goddess of my original world, but what is it with your luck in finding other worlds without fail?”

Vy glanced up at her Robin — Robin Hood, the May King, her Big Robin — and smiled once he gave her a raised eyebrow. “I just… do?”

Robin sighed and bumped his nose with hers again. “…You worry me too much.”

“I’m… sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for that, little sparrow. Just wander off with me next time.”

A quiet Ahem is what breaks Vy out of the growing warmth and surrounding mana — out of seeing two of her Grailed come through the same door that brought her to Whitney — and turning her head reveals Lya, her Robin, and a faraway Whitney all staring at her with wide eyes. Of course Robin Hood and Scathach-Skadi would stare back.

No one said anything for a good second. The toddlers could’ve woken up, Alex could’ve walked in, and yet no one would speak. That was the kind of stare-off it was.

“…Well,” Lya’s Robin starts first after the sound of a singular water droplet falling echoes from the sink, glancing at Chaldea’s Robin before awkwardly scratching at some of the freckles dotting his nose. “If this green-clothed man is your Big Robin, Vy, I can see why you love him so much. He is tall and has hair that makes me think of Whit.”

“He’s supposed to look like me?” Whitney said in clear disbelief from his place standing a few feet away in the hallway, his crumpled T-shirt and wrinkled sweats making it look like he just helped Alex in putting the toddlers to bed for their daily nap. “He’s green and… glowing.”

“Excuse me for glowing,” Robin Hood bit out past Vy’s head, and Vy did her best to raise a shaky hand to his chest to pat sympathetically. “Being magical makes me sparkly. Not like a vampire, thank god.”

“And I’m the goddess, yet can recognize the Twilight joke. Those books were not the best in regards to late-night reading.” Skadi chuckles again, and Vy glances at her just in time to catch the softer look that brushes her features as she bows her head towards the farm denizens still standing in front of them. “Excuse us for the late introductions. My name is Skadi, and the man carrying Vy next to me is our Robin. We just came through the nearest door together to take Vy home.”

“So she does have a home,” Lya muttered, enough to make both Robins and Whitney stare at her. “Was the ‘magic’ in the peanut butter cookies real, then?”

“Who knows?” Robin shrugs, but Vy knows he’s relaxing once he bounces her a little in his arms, just to adjust his grip and let her rest her head against his shoulder. The No Face May King was soft in feel against her ear, enough to be a borderline pillow and nearly make her forget him saying, “Vy — our little sparrow, has a habit of making magic. Still gotta take her back to recharge, though. So thanks for holding onto her until we could show up.”

Whitney scoffs under his breath, muttering something that Vy can’t hear, but she can see the brunette Robin lightly elbow him just past the No Face May King’s shadow as Chaldea’s Robin turns on his heel to face the door that started this little journey. Compared to its visage from her room, the magical entrance wasn’t glowing as much as before, the silver handle appearing muted to contrast the bright green grass outside and the glowing of the Grailed beside her. But—

Skadi barely gets a chance to say her name before Vy reaches out towards the nearest thing she could reach — that being Robin’s mantle collar, to tug at and eventually gesture back towards the farm denizens. “Let me…” she croaks, “say bye?”

Robin stares at her. Vy stares back. It’s not even that long, but she tries, and after a few seconds, Robin sighs, turning on his heel one more time. “Just this once,” she hears him murmur softly. Skadi opens the door behind him once he does, but it doesn’t matter.

Even with her blurring vision, Vy can still make out the primary colors of Lya’s pink hair, of her Robin’s green eyes, and Whitney’s black tattoos. And with the rest of her strength, Vy raises one shaky gloved hand to wave at them.

“Bye bye… thankie for the conversations… Whitney… Robin… if the kids ask… I’ll be back… with more cookies for them… and Lya… and Alex…! Soon soon…!”

Chaldea’s Robin scoffs softly above her head, but he still carefully walks her back into Novum Chaldea through the doorway Skadi kept open for them. And once the door closes behind them and darkness starts to overtake her vision in favor of sleep, Vy can do nothing but lean against her Robin and wonder if Lya’s Robin and Whitney ever waved back.

It was a nice dream to ponder about if they did.

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ellievickstar · 1 year

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Climbing Out (Chapter 6)

A/N: So we have to recover from the break I have been taking so I’m trying to post more until I can find a consistent schedule. Hahaha you guys can suggests which days you want this series to be posted on and I’ll think on it.

Ship: Azriel x Reader, archeron!reader

Warnings: Abuse AKA Violence, Swearing, Feel free to tell me if I need to add anymore

Genre: Angst

ACOTAR Masterlist

Climbing Out Masterlist

Requested? No. Inspired? Yes! This series is inspired by Just Another Stereotype but the storyline is slightly different.

~*~*~*~*~

The word fine was always interesting to me.

You see, whenever someone says their fine they usually mean that their not. Imagine asking your friend if they were okay and no matter how much they were suffering in their on head they would smile and wave you off, saying the same thing, “I’m fine”. But were they?

No one usually blinks twice at the answer. We all know it’s a lie but no one cares enough. Because whenever someone asks about how we feel, we know it’s not because that person cares.

It’s because it’s basic courtesy and it’s seen as rude if they don’t. However, most of the time, they never actually care. Which is why we find the need to say that we are indeed ‘fine’.

Now, I was trapped in that cycle. As I walked around the townhouse, feeling dead on the inside. I hated myself more then anything. As they prepared for Hybern, the queens, the war that was bound to occur, I was left to myself.

Occasionally when we got together for meals, or if they passed me in the hallway, someone would ask me if I was alright.

But as hollow and as empty I felt on the inside, as I struggled to fill the void in my head as intrusive thoughts constantly penetrated my mind, I always forced myself to smile, and say that I was fine.

There was one thing that kept me sane, helped me escape my reality. Books. Whenever I could I would make the long trek to the libraries and bookstores around Velaris and I would look for new books to read, new worlds to explore.

There was one that made me particularly interested, a book series called ‘Throne of Glass’. It was about a young female assassin and I was greatly invested in the whole series.

So I had my books, my small world, and I didn’t dare ask for anything more. As Feyre and Rhysand were still going at each other like two dogs in heat, I preferred to stay away, not really wanting to hear about my sister’s happiness.

I was happy for my sister, of course. She deserved her happiness but I could not help but feel trapped. I wanted to look for more, explore more.

There was a void in my soul that I wanted to fill, I wanted a purpose. And being trapped in this court, constantly being pressured to stay in line so things went smoothly. I hated it. I hated myself for wishing that I had more, told myself that I was ungrateful and that I should be thankful I was even alive.

But I felt alone.

Despite everything, I felt alone. Sure I was surrounded by people but it felt like that kind of loneliness that made me feel like I had no one. Nothing to depend on except myself and I know that that should have been enough but I wanted more then anything to have someone to lean on. I needed to get out of this place, I needed to feel free after everything.

“Y/N?” My head snapped up as I looked at Rhysand. His eyes hardened as if analysing my every move for a second before shaking his head. “I asked if you were going to accompany us back to your sister’s home to send a letter to the mortal queens, I need to make sure, just in case you had changed your mind,” I blinked before coming to a realisation that he was talking about the trip to the mortal lands tomorrow.

“Uh- yeah, I’m still going,” I stumbled over my words before quickly standing up, “I’m so sorry I’m extremely tired, I should probably get some rest before tomorrow, you guys can fill me in later,” Feyre looked at me with concern and Rhysand looked as if he was ready to call me out for my lie. But I quickly rushed to my room.

Not looking back.

~*~*~*~*~

The next morning came quickly. Though I had told the inner circle that I was exhausted, I did not sleep at all. I lay awake and watched the window in my bedroom until the sun began to rise. It was only the did I give up trying to fall asleep and threw back the covers to get ready.

I chose simple Illyrian leathers and a cloak that seemed to big for me, and the smell on it was so familiar though I could not quite put my finger on it. I pinned my hair back in a half updo, keeping the hair away from my face but not pinning it up entirely. I preferred my golden brown locks to be let down instead of tying it up, especially since I had long hair.

As I exited the room, I bumped into Nuala and Cerridwen, no doubt on their way to wake me and were shocked to see me up on my own, since I had been sleeping in the past few days. I showed them a polite smile before continuing my way to the kitchen. Azriel was there, no surprise. The three Illyrian males were always up and running at dawn. Well for Rhysand it was more like up and fucking my sister. I doubt Nesta would react well to their relationship or id they would keep it a secret.

Acknowledging Azriel with a subtle nod I approached the cabinet and took out a bar of chocolate, munching it as I leaned against the kitchen island. He was eating a sandwich, probably prepared by one of the wraiths or himself.

“So, books,” He raised his eyes at me expectingly. I shrugged as I took another bite out of the sugary goodness I was holding. “I like reading, it’s like an escape from reality, plays some of the characters are hot,” His eyes darkened and I could feel his gaze burning holes into me. I tugged the cloak tighter around my shoulder. “You do realise that’s my cloak right?” He deadpanned. It took me a second to register what he said before I blushed and immediately took the cloak off, extending it out to him, my face probably scarlet.

He chuckled before punching my hand back. “Keep it,” He said, “It looks better on you,” His lips twitched when I flushed further. I held the cloak to my chest before I remembered when I had thought that the scent on it was familiar. No wonder.

~*~*~*~*~

It was two hours later when we were finally gathered in the living space of the House of Wind. We went over the plan again. Feyre would fly with Cassian and I would fly with Azriel while Rhysand winnowed them to the gap near the wall and flew through the wall.

Waiting for Rhysand’s signal, Cassian glanced towards me and Az.

“You know,” He started, “You never actually specified how your powers worked,” My brain drew a blank. I didn’t exactly know myself. However, I supposed I could try and explain.

“I can manipulate shadow, kind of like Azriel, I can winnow and I can control the natural elements like air, water, fire and earth. When it comes to water I can increase or decrease the temperature to make it so scalding it would burn your skin off just to come into contact with the steam or I could make it so cold it would cause frost bite, the rest of the elements are kind of like the High Lords accordingly,” I explained. I supposed that was a decent explanation but I might have confused myself.

“So when you say that you can manipulate water, what about a substance with water,” Cassian pushed. I thought for a moment before nodding. I supposed that that was possible. “What about blood?” Azriel suddenly interrupted my train of thought. I turned to him and sighed before giving him my reply.

“Yes.”

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: This newer power will certainly be interesting to explore. IDK I was thinking about how our bodies are 75% water and I was like: Oh it woul be so cool if I could kill someone by quite literally draining them of blood if I could manipulate water. And so we have this. Sorry I took so long with this one but have a nice day loves <3

tag list: @moonfawnx @bankerfrog @younxii @hideing @flightlesslittlebirdie @menagerofmischief @famousbasementpainter @owllover123 @bookworm-nerd6 @gigisssz @bethany-bee0128 @cityofidek @aetherl0l @valeridarkness @starrstrucked @judig92 @starlit-terror

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suixidalthoughts · 1 month

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Idk...

Saturday, March 9, 2024 11:41 pm

Hey, it’s me. This is kinda ridiculous, but I have a lot on my mind. I used to journal and it used to help. I guess. It’s been a while since I last journaled, as i’m terrible keeping a schedule. Which is probably the root of a lot of my problems. To be honest i’m not really sure where to start. This has been my problem with journaling as i’m often way to critical, I start writing then delete because I feel stupid, then I never touch the journal again.

Honestly, I don’t know why it’s so hard to write my emotions down as I seem to have no issues constantly telling people how I feel. Maybe it’s because I actually am forcing myself to think about what I’m saying and judging myself. To help myself on where to start I looked up some journaling prompts online that are supposed to help me write what I feel. So here it goes… I guess.

Whats the dominant emotion i’m feeling right now?

The dominant emotion I’m feeling right now is sadness and emptiness. I feel like I’m going absolutely nowhere with my life. That I will never be anyone. That I will ruin my relationship as I’m doing a pretty good job of it right now without meaning to. That I will end up homeless, alone, sad and bored with my life. I had trouble in school fitting in and being happy, but I was never prepared to be an adult. I feel like I’m failing at life and it is all my fault. I’m tired of life. I’m tired of doing things. I’m lazy, I barely work and I barely do things, yet I feel no energy to do those said things. People tell me I’m not lazy, but I know full well that I am. I feel empty because I have no idea what I want to do with my life I wasn’t even planning to live this long. My boyfriend constantly doesn’t feel like he’s enough and it’s my fault because I constantly need the validation to feel even a little bit human. I’m a horrible, selfish person. I feel like I’m manipulative not on purpose or maybe on purpose I have no idea because I feel I have no grasp of my feelings or actions, but I do. I don’t know how to get better. I just messed up in life.

What do I think happened to trigger this emotion?

My boyfriend and I got into a fight and it was my fault. I mean I was thinking all of this before it, but it got worse after he was upset that I was upset. He said “I feel like I’m never enough for you.” “Maybe you should find someone else then” (or something like this) Because I had said “I constantly need physical attention” (again maybe not exact, but that is what I remember)

When is the last time I felt truly happy?

Honestly, I’m not 100 percent sure. I mean I love being with My boyfriend he makes me mostly happy, but there are always the negative thoughts and feelings in my head. Sometimes it’s too much to bear, especially lately.

What makes me feel safe?

My boyfriend makes me feel safe. Having hugs makes me feel safe.

When do I feel the most down or off?

Anytime I have a lot of things to do or have a lot of things on my mind. Which lately feels like all the time and it sucks because I just suck the fun out of everything.

What would I do right now if I knew I couldn’t fail?

I would go to college to be a psychologist and a dancer.

Whats one thing I need to let go of?

My birth mom, she will never be able to give me the love that I crave and need. She will only make me feel more neglected in life. I need to stop trying to fill that void it’s been going on long enough.

Whats my greatest fear?

Not being perfect. My brain never shutting up. Me pushing everyone away just to end up alone and said. Never being a mom. Never having a family.

What am i feeling anxious about right now?

Not having enough money to ever live on my own. Not being a good girlfriend. Being too selfish. Needing too much from everyone. Not being able to let go of toxic people. Not knowing what emotions of mine are real. What if they are all fake and I’m just feeling like this for attention? And if I am just feeling this way for attention why am I doing this, what is the reason? I’m so confused. I feel like everything I do is contradictory to myself. I want to do everything and nothing. I want to be hardworking, but I don’t want to do the work. Why?

I’m so tired of living, it’s exhausting. I don’t know what to do. I’m too scared to die, but I think of it daily and I feel selfish because why am I thinking about it? I have a wonderful boyfriend my life is better now than it has ever been. I live in the most beautiful state. His mom loves me. My boyfriend loves me and I love him more than anything, but I feel like he’d be better off without me. I feel like I’m not enough. I can’t show him that he is enough I don’t know how. He is. I just have too high of expectations for anyone. I feel immature. Why do I have to be like this?

And no, I’m not trying to feel sorry for myself because I am not. I know all of these feelings are my fault. I just wish I wasn’t the way I was and I don’t know how to change. Or maybe deep down I do know how, but I’m for some reason not willing to do the work to change.

It’s taking everything in me right now to not cut myself right now. I don’t know why I want to. Maybe to shock myself into the present moment and to stop feeling sad. Or too at least alieve some of the stress I’m feeling. I know it’s messed up, but It’s what I used to do to cope with my feelings. I know cutting is for the weak. Suicide is for the weak and it’s selfish yadda yadda yadda. These are just feelings I’m dumping. Besides, I know if I cut myself my boyfriend. will put me in an insane asylum. I really don’t want to go.

My mental health isn’t just killing me. It’s killing the people around me and I need to take myself out of the equation. I can’t keep hurting people. And I can’t keep living like this.

#depressing shit #my writing #personal vent #tw sui ideation #sui mention

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msexplorer · 2 years

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Once, if you’d asked me about love,

I’d have told you that it wasn’t real and happily ever after didn’t exist-

Just made up stories to read about and give people hope.

Truth is, I was tired of having my heart broken and my hopes dashed with another dead end relationship.

Forevers always turned into nevers and hellos faded away into goodbyes.

Every time love slips through your fingers,

you lose a little bit more of yourself...and hope.

I started wondering what was wrong with me, why I wasn’t good enough.

Those are the times when I cried for no reason and stayed in bed all day because I just couldn’t face the world.

Everyone told me that I’d be okay, and deep down, I wondered if that could ever be true.

I read all the words and searched for a spark among the downpour of pain.

Worse than that, though, is the emptiness.

Try as I might to fill the void in my heart, nothing ever helped heal my bleeding soul..

Emotions poured out as I just wanted to be okay..and didn’t know if I could be, not in any way that mattered.

The thing about the silence, it can be truly deafening when you’re all alone with the thoughts in your mind.

Somewhere along the way, I just chose to wake up.

Dwelling in my misery wasn’t making me feel any better, so why stay where I’m not happy?

I didn’t.

I chose to find a way out into the light, because anywhere was better than staying down and out.

It wasn’t easy, and honestly, there’s still days when I need a few minutes to close my eyes and breathe.

The storms still come and the nights are still long, but I’ve come to realize that I’m not alone if I truly open myself up to my people- the ones I love and care about.

I know now that no matter the pain I’ve felt and the wounds I’ve suffered, I can rise again from the ashes..

Stronger, scarred and wiser for where I’ve been.

My heart’s been battered and bruised, but it’s still beating strong..

In fact, it’s more vibrantly alive than ever..

That’s what happens when you believe in yourself and the power of your dreams.

Sometimes, you have to lose yourself along the way to discover the path to where you were meant to be.

The ones that cast me aside weren’t ever my people..they were my lessons, my reasons to find the light in my once blackened darkness.

I won’t say that I don’t lose my way some days, because I do.

I can’t say that my life is exactly where I want it to be, but it’s getting there.

I’m nowhere close to perfect and I’ll never be, and that’s my power...

Beautifully disastrous and wonderfully

Imperfect makes me real, authentic and original.

I’ll never take back where I’ve been and the pain I’ve felt, because that’s just what I needed to find my soul shine.

I’ll never change the love I’ve given or the hope I’ve felt, because I’ll always believe in the power of my dreams.

Most of all, I’ll never let the cracks from a broken past keep the light from illuminating my soul..

And that is why I will always be..

Real, passionate and shining from within.

I’m going sparkle that love everywhere.

Can you roll with that?

The Ravenwolf

#msexplorer #me #msexplorer's thoughts today #not my words or picture

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inmymind-blogs · 4 months

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In An Unrelenting Storm, With a Solace

-Bhavika

Have you ever felt the pressure to be subtle all the time?

Imagine this: an outward sign of unshakeable confidence concealing an outbreak of uncertainties and fears beneath.

For the past couple of months, I had felt a void within me.

Why do I want to pour my heart out by crying? Every morning when I got up, I had no clue what to do. Each day has been rough and usual.

Why am I afraid to try so hard? When I know better than anyone what I have awakened, I need to put it into practice, even when facing intense internal rejection again and again.

Like I’m trapped in my head, then diving into the ocean of thoughts. Just to keep getting on the same boat, "What and why am I doing this?" confused.

At times, you don't understand what you're doing and why you're doing it.

Like you're swimming and swimming, can't find the land only to end up in the big ocean.

With a numb heart and wounded head, I knew I was lost.

I decided not to care about anything else but myself and tried to be okay doing things I liked even when I didn't want to do them. Yet, I felt pleased living one of those phases of my life, even those are darker.

That's when I decided to find solace by taking a pause, embracing my flaws, and recognizing every emotion I was feeling.

That doesn't mean I need to be dull and gloomy. Also, I just can't shake off the feeling of dismal. In this cold world and among people who don't pay enough attention to others, I believe we must endure the hurt.

So then, I learned it's okay to feel blue.

With tired eyes, a numb heart, and unconquerable pain, she trudged through the darkness, seeking solace amidst the relentless storm of emotions. It is hard for most of us going through a difficult time to accept that it is okay to not be okay.

What helped me to comprehend my inner self from what she has been going through was writing, reading, breathing in fresh air, and listening to my comfort songs.

I’m amazed at how today's world is filled with optimism.

People often encourage others to make positive choices and focus more on the brighter side of things on their social media.

And even if one has a positive outlook, there's no way to be happy and buoyant all the time.

The most difficult truth to embrace is that life has its highs and lows. There will be challenging situations to face at some point.

If I try to be positive at a time like this, it can quickly spiral into toxic positivity as I suppress or reject my negative emotions.

In a society wherein it frequently advocates perfection, let's explore our liberating realization that owning up to our shortcomings is not simply acceptable but also an essential step towards developing self-compassion and personal growth.

So, if you're going through a tough time, remember it's okay to not be okay (:

Make sure to pour your heart into something or with someone. Their support can make a world of difference. Recognize that it's a sign of strength and not weakness to ask for help.

You can also do things like reading a book, writing down your thoughts, listening to your favorite podcast or uplifting songs, and watching your comfort shows.

Allow the turmoil inside your mind to fade.

You are stronger than you think (;

In this new year, let's open the door of light by accepting our genuine selves.

Here, You have reached the end of this blog.

Thank you for reading (:

Please take care of yourself 🤍

(All the pictures are sourced from Pinterest. I do not own any of the images.)

#mental health #mindfulness #it's ok to not be ok #emotions #myself #self love #solace #mind #mindstuff

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kimstaana · 4 months

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time is a monopoly : memory is a software

"moments later, i was all alone on a highway on pre-new year’s day thinking about what happened and hoping that that was one of those times we both lived in a state of self-regulating amnesia so that we can just forget."

does anybody feel the growing urge to take a trip down memory lane when the new year's approaching? the sudden feeling of going over how you spent the past 365 days of your life? and having void when you sense that you haven’t really taken enough time to fathom your recent memories or at least, grow past them? then, in an instant, you’re taken aback by how far you’re from moving on.

and does anybody ease the intensifying feeling by decluttering? by trying to fill the void in the act of both dumping and hoarding inanimate objects, may it be physical or digital? it can be old photos taken randomly in your memory card, expired negative film rolls you still used but didn’t bother to process, self-burned cds filled with illegally downloaded music and pirated films, hand-written letters from people you no longer talk to anymore, cake boards from your past birthdays, memorable and extremely tiring bus tickets, movie stubs from theaters you almost slept to, cringy high school slam book, and even failing grade school report cards.

i don’t know what got me into this high-functioning yet self-deprecating interest but truth be told, i’m a sentimental hoarder with ironic interest in decluttering. is it the self-reflecting facet? is it the fact that it brushes off the yearning? or is it because it reaffirms the need for a new start? i think it’s somewhere along those lines. i just know that there are times that i find comfort in decluttering anything lying around unused and projecting it as the better way to end the year—a restart to a clean slate.

the annual feeling clings to the overtly overused “new year, new me”, “new year, new beginning”, and “new year, new life” philosophy. surely, it’s about sentimentality but partly, it’s how it consoles the letting go and starts over the loop of life.

“you can't just throw out people the way you throw out things.”, protagonist jean says in nawapol thamrongrattanarit’s 2019 film, happy old year. it may come off as excessively dramatic but that’s how i ended 2021. not the usual decluttering, i was blunt and unfeeling as i throw out almost everything away, disregarding what they used to mean to me. i can reason that it’s because of the great isolation i was forced into that i began to pilot a general cleaning both literally and emotionally.

by the 1st of december last year, i was sorting every item that captured a moment in the past that hit pretty close to home. i knew my memory works as a self-defense mechanism, in its selectiveness, it archives my experiences that are most useful, regardless of them being good or bad that is why i made sure that i’d toss anything like it’s a done deal and that it will all be over if i throw things away already. but you know, sometimes, i feel like a lot of the things that i like to keep are from other people.

by the end of the month of the same year, hours between the 30th and 31st of december, i found myself declaring my love to my college best friend. it wasn’t rushed but it seemed totally abrupt. i’ve been thinking of confessing for the longest time but it was the admission of feelings that would outright stain the friendship that held me back. some people hold some memories dearer than others sometimes. i'm just like that and he's that memory for me. he is knotted to specific places that belong to the past even when it’s already been demolished. he is knotted to a specific time that belongs to the past even when it already happened. a still vivid memory that i’d keep. an intangible place that i’d go to. an irreversible time that i’d relive.

it was a long time coming, i told him i had feelings for him but i’m only doing it to let go of what feels like one-sided baggage i had to carry for a long time already. i don’t spill my guts to anyone and in his case, i felt like i already made it clear through my actions—he was my first confession and hopefully not the last. i told him not to say something or even react, he tried but i could tell he was overwhelmed and i was too devoid of departure.

that night felt like the longest night ever and it felt like we weren’t moving from the time and space that witnessed my confession. as we approach the terminal to call it a night, i didn’t let him come along with me like before, instead, i insisted to walk him up first so he’ll be the first to leave. moments later, i was all alone on a highway on pre-new year’s day thinking about what happened and hoping that that was one of those times we both lived in a state of self-regulating amnesia so that we can just forget.

the impermanence of things that used to remind me of him lets me translate what it means to “forget”—and why it isn’t bad if i still can’t get better while i’m at it. still, it’s not just about the bittersweet revelation that not everyone, even the closest people, can truly yield an ending they want, even if i pretend that that’s the case. it’s also the struggle with decluttering of relationships that we stored together in the things we shared.

sometimes, some things make me realize that moving on by decluttering is more than just throwing away things. it also means confronting the ghosts that come with it. from time to time, the mindless dumping reminds me to rue the day. to remember that a lifetime’s worth of very cluttered memories stands in the way and it’s not always about bypassing the painful parts—sometimes, moving forward requires a lot of attention and absorption.

it’s impossible to go full marie kondo or be out of our minds and just declutter things that don't spark joy anymore—to hurl things away without the slightest sign of hesitation but i felt like i did it that night. on the way home, i felt the inconsiderable regret of actually throwing something out, the heartbreaking reflection of something that cannot be changed. i know our own need to exonerate ourselves from feelings, regardless of the consequences for the other person, can sometimes ultimately be selfish especially when it’s all of a sudden—i’ll admit, my confession to him wasn’t for our friendship, but for my own closure.

oftentimes, i forget people and moments because there’s barely a physical totem to hold on but when sentimentality takes over, it becomes hard for me to let anything go, the least i can do is to remind myself that memories don’t live in things, it’s within me. everything that happened in the past had been recorded somewhere in my head already. after throwing some things, i’m going to remember what i’ve put into the trash bag one way or another anyway.

happy new year, friends!

#nawapol thamrongrattanarit #happy old year #happy new year

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