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erenthology · 5 months

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a/n: nothing wrong with acne, this is self indulgent. The Eren brain rot has been taking over ever since watching the finale. Not proof read obs

Academic rival Eren who’s always made your life a living hell. while secretly obsessed with you.

Rival!Eren who flirts idly and is the most contusing person. you can never tell if he’s being serious or not.

Rival!Eren who stops you on your way out of school. “move, asshole.” of course, the life sized giant doesn’t. “did you not hear me? I called you an asshole.”

“Have dinner with me” he grins. what is wrong with him? you think. not liking the way your heart is beating 10 times faster

Rival!Eren who smiles watching you run away from him, knowing the tension isn’t one sided, and you do too

Rival!Eren who first laid eyes on you in pre school, crying because some kid had stolen your strawberry shortcake. you were both kids. Eren angrily pushed his cake on your plate, blushing when your tear streaked face thanked him

Rival!Eren who then made sure to make that guy’s life hell for the rest of the school year. You really loved your strawberry shortcake, the memory makes him laugh

Rival!Eren who slowly noticed you’re the only one keeping up with him in class. He still remembers the day you told him you’ll surpass him

Rival!Eren who then became your rival, who told the kids you had germs just so they wouldn’t take you from him and

Rival!Eren who loved you through all of your phases, and found you just as beautiful that summer you came back from break with your face covered in acne, and hair cut in a bob

Rival!Eren who couldn’t keep up with you in 8th grade because your boobs had grown so big over the summer, it was all he could focus on

Rival!Eren who nearly had a stroke when you got your first boyfriend. He even accidentally smashed the guy’s face in when he heard him talking about you in inappropriate ways

Rival!Eren who was right there to take the blame. He was fine with you hating him for the breakup, as long as you still talked to him, even if it was just to cuss him out.

Rival!Eren who was your first kiss. “If you score more than me on this, Eren, I’ll do whatever you want” you once so confidently said. he pretended to suggest the kiss as a punishment, but still reminisces over the way you both blushed and ran separate ways after the innocent pec

Rival!Eren who got accused of having a crush on you by the boys, and got so mad at the way you denied it, he started taking girls out on the dates just to get back at you

Rival!Eren who watched you slip away from him but nevertheless kept his eyes on you over the years. made sure no one was bothering you beside him

Rival!Eren knows, you know. whether you like to admit or not, you’re his. you have been since that day. he’s always been behind you, and you’ll always expect him to be

Rival!Eren who, even in collage, loves to compete with you. thrives over the fact that he has been opponent since you were both kids, and no one else

Rival!Eren who thinks you look so freaking sexy every time you score higher than him and gloat. your ego is through the roof and he loves it

Rival!Eren who also loves it when you crumble before his eyes as he exceeds you in certain subjects

Rival!Eren who goes out of his way to catch your attention. Pulling your hair in class, kicking your feet under the desk, anything, really.

Rival!Eren who touches girls, kisses them in the hallway right when you walk by just to look you in the eye and grin

“You disgust me” you mouth to him.

You’ve definitely heard rumors from girls gossiping in the school bathroom. Especially by ashley, who loves going on about the night they spent together. “Eren fucks like a god, he knows his way around a woman’s body.” bla bla bla

Rival!Eren who catches your eye in the school cafeteria. He always looks at you, but this time you really looked at him. He’s fresh out of the shower. must’ve had practice, you think. you really do love when he wraps his hair in a bun like that

Rival!Eren who stares just as intensely back at you, resisting the urge to come over and do the things he wants to. instead, he takes the opportunity to wink at you, chuckling over the way you get up and throw away your remaining food

Rival!Eren who runs after you to catch up, but is reminded of your stubbornness when you ignore his shouts, instead he wraps his hand around you and pulls your entire body towards him

Rival!Eren who leans forward and whispers, only for you to hear, “if you ever look at me like that again, I’ll come over and fuck the shit out of you in front of the whole cafeteria.”

Rival!Eren who pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear and soaks in the way you’re looking it him, trying his best to force his mind of your silken lips before you visibly snap back to reality and push him away

Rival!Eren who’s eyes gleam mischief when he’s paired up with you for a project. “We’re gonna have a lot of fun” he grins, adoring the face you’re giving him

Rival!Eren who gets mad when you cut yourself on paper. “What the hell are you doing?” he says, carefully inspecting your hand

“Just tell me what to do.” he snaps, taking over

That night you both stayed until late in the library, feeling overwhelmed by all the work. there was nothing weird about Eren’s hand finding yours, and yours finding his, as you both rested your heads on the table

Rival!Eren who blames the gentleman in him when you ask why he insists on driving you back home. “you think that lowly of me?”

Rival!Eren who’s ears spike when a guy in the locker room mentions asking you out. He won’t allow it. suddenly feeling eyes on him, he notices he just smashed his first into the locker

“Uh,” needing to be smart about this, he quickly comes up with an excuse, “nah, she’s too easy, i’d get behind Ashley if I were you, trust me,” he winks. Lies. no one is better than you, but you’re his

Rival!Eren who starts insisting on coming over to your place to get the project done. Wanting to see how you live, what color your sheets are, what you wear at home

Rival!Eren who’s eyes almost fall out of its pockets when he sees your bra lying on top of your gym bag. By no means is he unfamiliar with bra’s or the female anatomy. It’s the fact that it’s yours that send his mind into an orbit

Rival!Eren who thinks you’re getting closer, so why the fuck is he seeing you with another man in a coffee shop on a saturday night?

Rival!Eren who carefully waits until Monday where he tells you he needs to talk to you. even seeing your face is making him crazy, he hates it

Rival!Eren who asks if you have a boyfriend and why you haven’t told him. you’re confused by this for two reasons, 1, you don’t have a boyfriend. 2. Why would you tell Eren?

“Tell me the truth” he demands.

How can he say that after running through half the women in your college? “The truth? I hate you, so much. wish you would just leave me alone.” you say despite the lump in your throat

Taken aback, he speaks in an unsure voice, “you hate me?” It looked like it physically hurt him to hear you say it. “Got it.”

Sighing, you realize you might’ve overreacted. despite all your bickering, you’ve never snapped at him like that before, “Eren, wait-“ but he’s already gone

Rival!Eren who starts ignoring you. He still looks, but he doesn’t mess around with you in the joking manner that he used to

Rival!Eren who’s been on your mind a lot since the fight. so much so, that you’re falling behind on school. you decide to keep this distance he created once and for all, no more back and forth

Rival!Eren who stops listening to his friends the instant he notices your saddened look. to the avarage person, you probably look fine, but he knows you.

Rival!Eren who spams your phone with texts, tries his best getting your attention during class but to no avail. Did someone hurt you? Sitting through this lecture is killing him

Rival!Eren who follows you after class, forcibly taking hold of your hand. “Eren, no.” you sigh, pulling your hand out of his grip. Annoyed, he ignores your request and takes ahold of your hand again, “what’s wrong?”

“Why is it so hard for you to leave me alone?” you yell, surprised by the force in your own voice. both you and Eren’s eyes widen at your second outburst at him

“Alright,” he nods his head, “message received” he says and finally leaves you. Despite having asked for it, panic arises in you as you turn to watch him walk away, only to see him leaning against the locker, still there

A smirk finds his face, “thought I’d leave?”

he’s hit with a surprise when you put your head on his chest and starts sobbing. And you’re left equally as shocked by the relief that fills your chest

Rival!Eren who puts his arms around you and starts stroking your back. he wants to burn the world when he sees it’s hurt you

Rival!Eren who takes you back to his dorm with no room for discussion, but makes a quick pit stop, telling you he’ll be right back and to stay in the car

“Strawberry shortcake?” The look you give him makes him want to back inside and buy you all the cake they have

Rival!Eren who acts composed but feels his heart pounding in his chest all while he drives back to his place, while he’s leaning against the door frame as you’re explore his room, and as eat your cake in silence, with him staring at you

Rival!Eren who’s sure he’s mistaken when you flat out ask to give him to have sex with you, but is quickly corrected when you direct his hand onto the soft flesh of your boob

Rival!Eren who’s fingers act on their own, moulding and squeezing as he regains composure, “hold on, you’ve never done this before, right?”

“No.” you shake your head.

Rival!Eren who grabs ahold of your chin as a smile creeps up on his face , “good.” he’s going to teach you everything. but not today

Rival!Eren who’s thumb plays with the button of your jeans as he asks if you’re going to stop running away from him. loving the way you shy from his question

the way you hesitate makes him want to devour you whole. “I’ll kiss you if you don’t say yes” he leans forward to tease

“C’mon, hurry.”

“Yes.” you barely breathe out before he leans in and kisses the hell out of you. then proceeds to unzip your clothes

Rival!Eren who has the longest make out session of his life, making sure to prepare you by playing with every part of your body

Rival!Eren who’s soaking in the way your face twists into pleasure when he twists and turns his fingers inside of you, telling you to calm down and trust him

Rival!Eren who he talks you through your orgasm, flicks his tongue on your pulse point and whispers, “no one has ever touched you here before, right?”

Rival!Eren who holds you face in his hands after making you come, kissing you once, kissing you again, again, and again. he can’t stop stealing kisses from you, it feels like he’s been robbed of this his whole life.

Rival!Eren who declines your request for him to fuck you. only for you to get mad and get up looking for your clothes

“Yeah, but you’ll fuck every other girl passing by.”

Rival!Eren who laughs and drags your ass back down on his lap, he’s not letting you get away again. not a chance in hell

“You’re gonna belive rumors, baby? thought you were my smart girl.”

“Look, I may not be a virgin, but I might as well be. you’re the only girl Ive ever wanted. it’s not an excuse, it’s a fact. And I’ll keep showing it to you until one day you’ll believe it.”

Rival!Eren who promises to take your virginity one day, but not today.

#idk why a dark academia rival Eren possesed my mind today but i MIGHT write a part 2 for the virginity #eren smut #attack on titan eren #eren #eren jeager x reader #eren aot #eren fanfiction #eren jaeger #just in the clouds for eren #eren x reader #eren yeager x reader

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pileofmush · 7 months

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this is a part ii. find part i. here. // cw: reader shares a room w/ nami & robin, vague post timeskip spoilers

you’re rinsing soap suds off a dinner plate when the realization hits you.

luffy could do this without you.

the thought has you gripping the edges of the sink; spreads a cold, cold bug throughout your immune system. sanji notices from his peripherals and asks if you are alright, drying rag flicked nonchalantly over his shoulder. you stall, ask yourself the same question. are you alright? you don’t think so. because the truth is sanji is the cook—invaluable to the crew. to luffy. and you? well, you wash dishes.

see, you’re not particularly strong, or intelligent, or useful. it’s a wonder he wants you on his crew at all.

if luffy had never met you, it wouldn't make a difference.

it’s a bitter pill to swallow: inadequacy. you are no longer a sad, pathetic, touch-starved bitch, but you are still an anxious one. and yet, there’s something threatening to crawl out of your chest that rejects your fears. something visceral and desperate. palpable; you can feel it thumping underneath your skin. this thing, whatever it is, loathes your uncertainty in your captain. how could you ever doubt him? it asks. he saw something in you, didn’t he? shouldn’t that be enough? shouldn’t you trust him?

you do trust him. you just… don’t really trust yourself. uncertainty festers like an open wound, and you have no where to put it. so you shove it down, because your emotions don’t deserve to breach the surface, and taint his smile.

it’s hard to think about these things whenever he’s around, anyway. not when he’s kicking you underneath the table during dinner, or hiding behind corners and grabbing you by the waist because he “thinks it’s funny.” it’s even harder to think when those moments take unexpected turns. when he slips a leg between your thighs and interlocks your ankles, or when his hands linger on your body longer than necessary, slipping underneath the hem of your shirt, as he just… stays there. fingers swiping idly against your skin while he peers at you, curiously. and of course, it’s flat out impossible to think when he presses you against the nearest wall and kisses you until you’re breathless and panting into his mouth.

the first time you kissed him, you thought you would die. it was on a good night, a cool night. the rest of the crew had gone to bed, but the two of you stayed up, talking about things neither of you could recall, now. an unassuming conversation. but luffy had been staring at your mouth the whole night, and, feeling uncharacteristically emboldened—perhaps due to a few stolen sips of zoro’s booze—you asked him if he wanted to kiss you. he said yes. and it was messy. his lips were chapped from the cold. you bumped into his nose, and he bit your lip, and his tongue slipped into your mouth, and you thought you would die.

you broke apart, your fists clinging to his vest, breathing hard. for once, your mind was completely, utterly blank. “slower,” you instructed before leaning back in. he nodded, dazed. your arms wrapped loosely around his neck, his hands darted to your hips, and you tasted his smile.

the truth is, you feel unstoppable when you’re with him. because of him. you want nothing more than for him to feel the same.

is that selfish to think? are you a horrible person? how else could this have gone? the boy had you wrapped around his finger from the very start. had the whole world spiraling around his finger from birth: for he is luffy and he is the most magnetic person you’ve ever met, and he is going to be the king of the pirates. you’re just lucky that you can come along for the ride.

you’re lucky. that should be enough.

but still. you want.

you want to be indisposable. you want him to need you like you need him.

are you enough?

yes, of course. you are a straw hat pirate, and you are proud.

but why? why did luffy ask you to join his crew? what do you have to offer? you’re not particularly strong, or intelligent, or useful. it’s a wonder he wants you on his crew at all.

it’s a bitter pill to swallow: inadequacy. you have to hit your chest to get it down.

“you’re thoughtful.” nami declares after you confide in her, one slow day on the sunny. she says this easily, like she needn’t think about it, like this is a well known fact. she sits cross-legged on your bed, hugging a pillow as you brush her hair. “thoughtful?” you repeat, dragging a hairbrush down her scalp.

nami turns around to face you, something expectant on her face. her hair’s still wrapped around your fingers. “duh.”

something heavy rattles in your chest.

thoughtful. you’re thoughtful? that’s a nice thing to be. you should be appreciative of the compliment. a thoughtful person would appreciate the compliment.

“but—”

“but nothing,” she interrupts, rolling her eyes. “we want you here. can’t you see? we trust luffy to protect our dreams, always, but we trust you to protect out hearts.”

your grip on the hairbrush loosens. “…isn’t that… the same thing?”

nami hums vaguely. "not at all."

her words plague you late into the night.

thoughtful.

you are thoughtful, maybe, on a good day, but what good is that for the break-neck pace of piracy? are you gonna think your enemies into submission? kill ‘em with kindness, maybe?

you’re lying on your side, buried under your covers, attempting to sleep. across from you lays robin, in her bed. robin sleeps like the dead. there’s been a few restless nights where you’ve simply watched her sleeping form, counted her breaths, made sure she was actually alive.

however, this is the first night that someone’s knocked on your door in the middle of the night. three harsh raps. being the only one up, you slowly rise out of your cocoon and tiptoe across the wood floor, but the door cracks open before you can reach it. moonlight slips through the crack, casting shadows on a figure as it steps into your room.

it’s luffy. he’s in his pajamas, clutching his straw hat.

“lu?” you whisper. “wha—what’s going on?”

he stalks over to you. you can’t read his expression as well as you could have in the daytime, but his mouth is set in a thin line, and his eyes… he doesn’t give you much time to examine them before he’s wrapping his arms around you, hiding his face in your neck.

“it’s nothing,” he mumbles into your skin. goosebumps prickle across your flesh. nothing? is this nothing?

"can we just go to sleep?” he asks. there is something like desperation coloring his voice. and you—you know something about desperation. are intimately familiar with the beast that lies in your chest, that clogs your lungs ’til you can barely breathe.

it’s not nothing, not even close. but maybe he needs it to be nothing. you can accept that. so you pluck the hat from his hands and set it on the barrel you use as a nightstand. guide him to your bed. the bed dips under his weight, and there’s really not much room for the both of you, but it doesn’t stop him from sliding over to meet you in the middle. he reaches out and tugs on your arm until you’re rolling on your side, and then he’s slotting into you like a matching puzzle piece. his knees tuck into yours, and his arms slither round your stomach, and he’s breathing by your ear, and you are praying that you are enough. that you’ll be enough.

you think you are. will be.

maybe there is a difference between protecting dreams, protecting hearts.

ty all for the support on this mini series :') hope you liked the conclusion!

#mushy writes .𖥔 ݁ ˖#luffy x reader #monkey d. luffy x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece imagines #one piece fanfiction #hurt/comfort #fluff #one piece fluff #m.luffy #m.op #battle scarred;

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fanficsat12am · 8 months

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when the brothers realize how much MC loves them I Lucifer & Mammon

📜 𝙼𝙰𝚂𝚃𝙴𝚁𝙻𝙸𝚂𝚃!! 📜

Lucifer

He was Lucifer Morningstar, the picture of perfection. He had everything planned, everything taken care of, everything written down. He had to protect that perfect image and anything that dared to disturb it was met with a toothy snarl, a sharp glare, glowing ruby-red eyes, and a towering figure with the power to kill anything in just a second. No one had managed to see what was behind the curtains, nor had anyone really tried. No one except you.

He had been slaving away at his office for what felt like the nth night in a row. His usually kept demeanor was disheveled, posture stiff, shoulders tense, movements quick and emotionless, like that of a machine. You knew he couldn’t do anything about it. As Diavolo’s right-hand man, he had a plethora of work that needed to be finished—with even more to come the next day. That didn’t mean you could idly watch by the side though, unable to bear the thought of your significant other rotting away with each passing night.

You slowly moved closer toward the hunched man, each step more determined than the last. Even as you stood in front of him, he still had yet to acknowledge you. The distance made by the desk between you felt vast like it was a great wall barricading him from you. The only coherent thought in Lucifer's mind was the documents that were sprawled along the mahogany surface. “Lucifer…” you call out, the name falling on deaf ears. The scribbling of the pen continues to taunt you as you wait for a response. “My Love, you’ve been at it for days. Please rest” you plead, the previous attempts of getting him to rest slowly starting to weigh on you. You move closer, positioning yourself beside him. You take a gentle yet firm hold of the hand furiously writing on the parchment, halting it in its tracks. He briskly flicks your hand off with a grunt—as if your touch alone had burned him. The simple action took you aback. It was as if the demon infront of you was foreign. You knew to yourself this wasn’t your Lucifer.

You were unsure of what to do. Your once-firm determination had by this point waned, leaving you with little more than a desperate desire to pry him out of that chair. Whenever you were in need of comfort, his warm embrace would be there to hold your pieces together. Now, you were met with the crisp cold feeling of nothingness. It had been so long since you felt his touch, you didn’t realize how starved you were of it. Slowly, you envelop him in your hold. You needed him, you needed to know he was still there. He was just about to shove you away again when he heard your faint, trembling voice. “Please…stop hurting yourself. Stop hurting me,” you whispered, letting him go and instead cupping his face to make him finally look at you. “Just for tonight…don’t be Lucifer Morningstar” you beg, a stray tear finding its way out and falling down your cheek. You silently cursed yourself, knowing that crying will just add to the stressful plate he already had. But you couldn't help it. The dam you had tried to conceal had finally broken, pouring out every unshed tear you kept hidden from him.

As he sat and watched each crystalline tear roll down your face, he could feel his heart sink further and further down his stomach. Gazing into your eyes, he sees all the worry you’d been garnering all this time. All the hurt you had wasn’t for you, but for him—because of him. How could he have done this to you? You didn’t deserve this. Everything was wrong. This wasn’t perfect. Nothing was, not until your beautiful smile had returned. He wasn't aware of when he had begun to cry, only noticing once were wiping it away with the pads of your thumb. What did he ever do to deserve you? Even in your time of despair, all you cared about was him. He gently brought his hand to your face, wiping away as much of your tears as he could while kissing away those that followed. “For you, I’d do it every waking hour” he replied.

As he carried you to the comfort of his bed, his mind had yet to cease its punishment on him. He felt disgusted with himself. The mere thought of you having to see him in such a state, to have you think you needed to beg for him to come back to you when in reality it was he who should be pleading for you to stay. He couldn’t stand it. Pressing a tender kiss to your temple, he makes a silent promise to be better for you. You didn’t need a perfect boyfriend, because he knew that in your eyes he was already enough.

Mammon

“Psh. How stupid can ya be?”

Push. That’s all he knew to do. But how much could he push until you fall off the edge? How long would you hold on until you’d finally had enough? As he stared at your sleeping figure, he was afraid he’d found the answer.

“I don’t need ya. Not now not ever”

He wanted to take it all back, to slap some sense to his past self, to get on his knees and beg for your forgiveness. But the damage had been done. The seed of doubt had already been planted. To make matters worse, he had yet to apologize, letting the seed take root and grow into something sick and twisted. All he could think to do was to silently lay down next to you for what might be the last time. It was greedy of him, but he had to at least savor each remaining moment he could cling to. As he places himself inches away from you, the repercussions of his actions were now on full display. He quickly noticed the dried tear marks across your cheeks, your usually bright eyes now puffy and swollen, and how a deep breath would interrupt the steady rise and fall of your chest. He could feel as his heart clenched in guilt, the words he’d carelessly thrown at you now seemingly forming a huge lump in his throat. He wanted to pull you close, to hold and shield you from the other dangers of the world. But he knew he couldn't, not when he himself was what he needed to protect you from.

“Know your place, Human”

With a shaking hand, he places his palm on your cheek and attempts to wipe away the tears he was meant to wipe a long time ago. You’re gently woken up by the feeling of his touch, still a bit tired after your crying session. Although your mind was hazy, you could easily see the absolute regret Mammon had as he gingerly wiped away at your face. He refused to meet your eyes, afraid to see the hatred awaiting in those orbs that once held so much love for him. But he couldn’t resist. He needed you to know that the next words he was about to say were his, that it came from the deepest part of his heart. Shifting his gaze to finally look at you, the apology he had prepared quickly died down on his tongue. Even at your state, you still cease to leave him breathless. But he knew he had to say something. Anything. Please, just do something.

“I’m sorry” he whispered. It was pathetic, he knew. There was so much he wanted to say, but…this was the most important one. He watched as you placed your hand over his and softly kissed his palm with the most love he had ever felt, nuzzling closer into his touch. Tears brimmed his eyes, blurring his vision with each second that passed by. The hand that used to be by your cheek was now entangled in your hair, while the other had wrapped around your waist—both drawing you closer to his embrace. That night he held you tighter as if you were sand about to slip through his fingers. He doesn't know what to do to make it up to you, but for now, he focuses on holding you, relishing the warmth that his stupid mouth had almost cost him. He would let anyone from the three realms take everything he had if it meant he could keep you. Anything but you. You were his MC, and your place was here in his arms.

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nina-ya · 4 months

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Ways That Law Wordlessly Says "I Love You"

Luffy Zoro Sanji Law Kid Shanks Pairing: Law x reader CW: Mentions of blood. Fluff overall. WC: 1.2k

Leaning against the railings of the Polar Tang, the moon casting its gentle glow on the calm waters, you found comfort in the rare moment of the submarine surfaced on the open sea. Law joined you, and a comfortable silence settled between you, the only background noise being the ship's engines and the crash of waves.

“You know,” he starts, his fingers idly tracing the railings, “I’ve heard of these groups of islands on the Red Line, uninhabited and unexplored,” his fingers seem to trace circles into the railing, mimicking the islands as he continues, “I can see the entire crew living on one of those islands, just all of us together.” His fingers halt in their place, and his gaze shifts to you, “... and I see you there. I see you and me together, just living without a care in the world.” The atmosphere fills slightly with a tension and you sense a rare vulnerability in Law's demeanor.

“There's something about the uncharted,” he muses, his gaze fixing onto the stars above. “It’s just so pure and untouched. Not ruined by horrible people, and we would be the ones to shape its story.”

As he speaks, Law's demeanor softens, revealing a side of him rarely seen. His eyes hold a glimmer of anticipation, and the corners of his lips betray a subtle smile.

"I've seen enough chaos and battles," he admits. "What I want is to discover a future with someone I care about."

In the quiet between words, Law’s hand reaches for yours, fingers intertwining. "I can picture it," he confesses, "a life where you and I are free from the constraints of the world. One where we can live freely."

The conversation drifts into the early hours of the morning, the shared hopes and dreams only giving way to the certainty of being together forever. You know Law loves you when he talks about a future with you in it.

- - - The dim light of Law's cabin barely illuminates the room as the submarine sails through the night. As a habitual insomniac, he found himself immersed in the quiet of the late hours. Papers, maps, and various other books are scattered across his desk, evidence of a night spent deep in thought and planning.

The first rays of sun begin to filter through the porthole of his quarters, Law, weary but determined, pushes himself to finish what he has already started. Knowing that you will wake up soon, Law decides to ignore the drowsiness that threatened to consume him. Without a word, he closes his books, tidies the clutter on his desk, and heads to the kitchen.

In the kitchen, Law moves with purpose. He selects ingredients, and soon, the aroma of fresh coffee beans fills the air as he brews a strong pot for you. The soft sizzle of eggs hitting the pan accompanies the noise of the coffee dripping into the pot

Despite the evident weariness in his face, Law continues. He plates a simple yet thoughtful breakfast—scrambled eggs, toast, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Just as the sun begins to shine over the submarine, Law returns to his quarters. The signs of a long night are evident in the disheveled papers, the scattered books. Yet, on the small desk, there sits a neatly arranged breakfast tray, just for you.

As you stir awake, the smell of breakfast fills your senses. You look over to the source of the smell and your eyes land on the desk. There, you find the meal and right next to it, lays Law, who is sound asleep. You smile softly as you take in the sight in front of you. You know Law loves you through his silent acts of service towards you.

The smell of blood fills the air as the battle comes to an end. Law surveys the aftermath, assigning the uninjured members of the crew to tend to the more severely injured ones as his own attention turns to focus solely on you.

“Here, let me help you.” He commands in his usual stern tone as he guides you to a less chaotic area, the subtle urgency in his voice betraying the composed facade. He quickly starts his examination on you, not wanting to miss any bump or scratch.

As other more bruised and battered crew members come to seek medical attention from Law, he quickly dismisses them. "Give us some space," he declares, a firmness in his voice indicating that he is not to be disobeyed.

Law meticulously examines you and your injuries, his fingers tracing every cut, every scratch, every bruise on your body as he decides his next course of action. He determines that your injuries are only surface level, but insists on staying with you and patching you up himself.

His attention never wavers as he tends to each and every wound on you, making sure to give you extra care and love and attention. He knows the rest of his crew needs proper medical attention, but a lingering voice yells at him to make sure that you are completely taken care of before anyone else. As he applies the bandages, you can see the care and love for you he has in his eyes. You know Law loves you when he puts your health and wellbeing above others.

Law sits in a corner of his quarters engrossed in the latest issue of "Sora the Warrior." The glow of the lamp beside him casts a warm light on his face, emphasizing the focus in his features evident in the furrow of his brows.

You enter the room, your purpose being to look for something, but your gaze falls upon Law and the unexpected sight of him being lost in a comic. A hint of surprise crosses your face, quickly replaced by a playful smirk. Law, sensing your presence, looked up, his expression shifting from concentration to embarrassment.

Caught in the act, Law instinctively closes the comic, a poor excuse falling from his lips as he utters "It's not what it looks like," a rare flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. His attempt at nonchalance only fuels your amusement.

You can’t help but tease him. "Didn't take you for a comic book fan, Captain," you say, a playful glint in your eyes.

Law sighs realizing he can't talk his way out of this one. "Fine, yes I'm into comics." he confessed, embarrassment evident in his tone.

Out of curiosity, you encourage him to share more. "Really? I had no idea you were into this stuff. What do you like about it?" you asked, taking a seat beside him.

Law hesitates for a moment before launching into an unexpectedly enthusiastic explanation. His eyes light up as he dives into the storyline, the character development, and the battles. As he rambles on, the embarrassment melts away, replaced by a childlike enthusiasm.

He begins to show you the comic, pointing out details in the artwork, discussing plot twists, and even theorizing how the story might go. The more he talked, the more animated he became, his initial embarrassment transforming into genuine enthusiasm for the comics. You find yourself smiling in complete and utter infatuation as his more unexpected nerdy side comes out as he rambles passionately. The excitement in his voice and the sparkle in his eyes shows you a different side of Law, one that you hope to see more often. You know Law loves you when he shares his unexpected passions with you.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece fluff #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader

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libraryofgage · 9 months

Text

Addams Family Steddie AU Part 2

Part two of the Addams Family Steddie AU from this post! Anyway, here are five times Eddie gave Steve a gift plus one particularly special gift Steve gave him in return

I'll be honest, this one really got away from me LMAO

Also, @xjessicafaithx asked to be tagged if there was a part two so here ya go! I have a few more ideas for this AU so there might be more parts later too lol

One~

Steve is idly flipping through the mail he just pulled out of the mailbox, delaying his return to the house where Dustin is currently screaming about dice rolls over a Discord call, when he feels someone staring at him. His shoulders tense, and his grip on a junk letter creases the envelope as he looks up.

Crouching on the walkway leading up to a pitch-black house, elbows resting on his knees and a covered plate in his hands, is Eddie Munson. He's staring straight at Steve, eyes practically boring through him. When he realizes Steve has noticed him, Eddie perks up and balances the plate in one hand so he can wave with the other.

Steve hesitates before flashing an unsure smile and waving back. He thinks of the recently-washed plate that held the arsenic and chocolate chip cookies currently in his kitchen, waiting to be returned. Maybe he can return it now?

While he's thinking, Eddie has apparently taken the wave as permission to pop to his feet and walk over. And, well, he isn't wrong. It's not like Steve immediately started walking away after waving; he just kept standing there, locked in place by neighborly social conventions and Eddie's intense gaze.

"Good morning, Stevie," Eddie says, flashing that too-sharp grin at Steve as he leans on the mailbox. "You're looking particularly ravishing today."

"Ravishing?"

Eddie slowly looks him up and down, his eyes dragging along Steve's figure before finally letting their gazes meet once more. "Good enough to eat, really," Eddie replies, leaning in a little closer and making Steve's heart race with something that could be fear but is more likely embarrassment. Not that he wants to admit that. So, fear it is.

Steve laughs awkwardly and leans back, looking away and blaming the heat in his cheeks on the sun. "Uh, thanks. You, uh, look nice too," he says, glancing back at Eddie to take in the ripped jeans and short-sleeved black button-down (is that silk? It looks like silk) and chunky rings shaped like bats and skulls and coffins and wow, Eddie's fingers are kind of long.

Thankfully, Steve is saved from his mind wandering too far by Eddie shoving the covered plate into his hands. It's a familiar motion, and Steve almost laughs at it. "Thanks, sweetheart," Eddie says, letting his fingers brush across the back of Steve's hands before pulling away. "Anyway, Wayne baked more last night before communing with some spirits. He made too many eye of newt brownies, and I thought you'd enjoy them."

Steve blinks, looking down at the plate in his hands. "Eye of newt?" he asks, curiously lifting the tin foil to see perfectly normal-looking brownies inside.

"Yeah, they're to die for," Eddie says, his grin widening as he pushes off the mailbox and leaves Steve with a plate of brownies and a confusing feeling in his chest.

Two~

"She likes meatballs."

Steve blinks, staring at the concerningly large Venus Fly Trap in El's hands. Behind her, Eddie is smirking at him, holding his sister's shoulders and giving Steve an expectant look as El holds the flower pot out to him. The pot itself is also concerningly large for how she's holding it, and Steve can't stop himself from quickly taking the pot so she doesn't strain her back any more than she already has.

He grunts at the sudden weight when she lets go but doesn't drop the pot. Instead, he carefully and gently places it on the ground, silently letting out a breath of relief as the plant sways slightly in the pot, brushing against his hip.

The two had caught Steve when he was getting out of his car, his entire body already feeling heavy from work. His plan had been to go inside, do his best to not fall asleep standing in the shower, make Dustin dinner, and then pass out in bed until his alarm woke him again in the morning.

But instead, El had run over to him the moment he got out of his car, cheeks slightly flushed with excitement as she offered him the plant. Eddie had leisurely followed her over, amusement clear on his face as he watched Steve's brain struggle to catch up.

"Doesn't she eat flies?" Steve asks, looking down at the plant. For some reason, he feels like it's staring back at him.

El shakes her head. "Flies are not big enough. You should feed her one pound of meatballs on Wednesday and Sunday."

Cool. Great. Perfectly normal. It's not like Steve has had a Venus Fly Trap before, so he can't contest that. "Why are you giving her to me?" he asks, tearing his eyes away from the plant to look at El.

"Aunt Morticia took cuttings of her Cleopatra and sent us a few," El says, her tone implying that should be more than enough explanation.

Steve's expression, however, surely says differently. Thankfully, Eddie picks up on it and leans forward over El. "She'll make a great guard plant for you and Dustin, Stevie. Plus, she's almost as good a listener as I am," he explains, playfully wiggling his eyebrows at Steve.

"Oh," Steve says, pointedly ignoring the second part of that explanation. "Does she have a name yet?"

"Nix," El tells him.

"Nix?"

"Yeah. Stevie," Eddie says, pointing at him before pointing to the plant and saying, "Nix. Because you said you like Fleetwood Mac."

Yeah, Steve did say that, but it was in passing, and he didn't think Eddie had actually heard him say it or paid any attention. It was said to Dustin while they were walking to the car, and Eddie had just happened to be sitting on his porch at the time.

But he did pay attention. And now he and El have given Steve and Dustin a plant whose name is a reference to Fleetwood Mac. Steve can't help a smile, suddenly feeling a lot lighter than just ten minutes ago. "Thanks, I know Dustin will love her, too," he says, feeling blinded by the tiny smile from El and the full-on grin from Eddie.

Three~

Nix likes to get sun, but she doesn't like being in the sun for too long. She also doesn't like staying still in the sun; she prefers to be moved around constantly, never staying in one spot for more than a minute if she's particularly patient. She also prefers to go on a sun walk right after eating her pound of meatballs.

These are things Steve learns over the course of three weeks through trial and error that often resulted in Nix snapping shut around his arm whenever he didn't immediately do as she liked. Steve had never heard of a plant having a personality before (especially not such a temperamental one), but he's come to find it endearing. Plus, carrying Nix around the yard does make for an effective workout.

So, on a very hot Sunday at the very end of June, Steve is carrying Nix around his backyard. Her pot is in his arms, sweat is dripping down his back, and Nix is helpfully trying to shade his head from the sun using her...head? Steve actually isn't sure what to call the top part of her. Is it a mouth?

"It's called a lobe."

Steve jumps, his grip on Nix's pot tightening as he whips his head around and sees Eddie crouching on the fence dividing their yards. He isn't even sure how Eddie manages it, considering how narrow the fence is, but he's also stopped trying to figure it out.

"What is?" he asks.

Eddie hops down, walking over to Steve and carefully taking Nix out of his hands. He continues walking around the backyard, and Steve doesn't even question following him. "This," Eddie says, pointing to the top of Nix's head. "This is called a lobe."

"How'd you..."

"You had a curious expression and were looking at Nix."

"You know my curious expression?"

Eddie looks over at Steve, a smile pulling at his lips and his eyes softening some, and Steve suddenly feels like he's drowning in the ocean and floating among the clouds. "I know all your expressions, Stevie," Eddie tells him.

Steve feels seen and terrified and...and utterly under whatever spell Eddie has spent the past few months carefully casting. He doesn't say anything about it, though. Instead, he rather dumbly says, "Oh."

The smile widens, and Steve finds himself wondering not for the first time what it would feel like to run his tongue over Eddie's too-sharp canines. "By the way, I got something for you, Stevie."

Steve blinks, watching as Eddie easily cradles Nix's pot in one arm and reaches into his back pocket. For a brief moment, Steve thinks he's going to pull out his dagger again. Last time, he'd placed it in Steve's hand and very seriously told him, "If you ever see me on the verge of death, take this dagger and stab it through my heart. I'd rather die by your hand than whatever else got to me first." He'd then showed Steve where he kept it, his smile bright despite his words leaving Steve speechless.

Eddie does not, in fact, pull out a dagger. He pulls out a tiny, leatherbound journal. The journal is black like everything else the Munson family owns, and a heart is carefully painted onto the cover with two skulls looking outwards and meeting at the jaws to create the heart's point.

Steve slowly takes the journal, the cover feeling soft under his thumb, and he looks up at Eddie. His confusion is made even stronger when he sees his bashful expression. Eddie uses his free hand to tug on a lock of his hair, habitually hiding his mouth behind it. "I, uh, write music, you know," he says, waiting for Steve to nod once before rushing out in one breath, "I wrote songs for you."

When the words actually register, Steve's eyes widen, and he cracks the journal open to a random page. Eddie's familiar scratchy handwriting crosses the paper. Steve can only just see a line about the arrows of fate and burning stars before Eddie's hand covers the page. "Maybe, uh, maybe read them later."

Steve easily agrees, and Eddie quickly changes the subject. After finishing Nix's walk around the garden, Eddie helps Steve return her to her room and returns himself to his own home. Steve watches Eddie through the window, waiting for him to go inside before opening the journal once more and finding the page Eddie had covered.

i'll throw myself before the arrows of your fate// take all your misfortune as the gift it is// piercing my ribs as you burn brighter than stars// unhindered by the despair i have stolen for myself

Four~

Eddie's hand is warm in Steve's as he leads him up the stairs of the Munson home. The halls are dimly lit by old lanterns whose flames make shadows dance across the walls, and Steve finds them more romantic than creepy. When they reach the attic, Eddie stops at the door. "Okay, some of them don't look like normal bats," he says, turning to look at Steve.

"Are you giving me one of the normal ones?"

Eddie nods once. "Yeah, the demobats are too unpredictable, and the hivemind doesn't help. You wanted one bat, not a swarm."

Steve hums softly, leaning closer and placing his free hand on Eddie's chest, right over his heart. "I would accept a swarm if you gave it to me, babe," he says, smiling reassuringly at Eddie.

His words are rewarded with an arm around his waist, holding him closer like Eddie wants to pull Steve under his skin and hold him in the spaces between his bones. "But I wouldn't get nearly as much attention then, Stevie," he replies, punctuating each word with tiny pecks that begin at his forehead, follow the bridge of his nose, and end on his lips in a lingering kiss.

Steve almost loses himself in it, but he'd rather not get carried away where Wayne or El could catch them. So he begrudgingly pulls away, playfully reaching up and tugging one of Eddie's locks when he pouts. "You know you're dearer to me than all the bats in the world, Eddie. Now, which bat is mine?"

Eddie's pout immediately becomes a grin, and he opens the attic door. It's dark as night in the room, the only lights coming from red eyes staring at them from the ceiling. Eddie keeps his arm around Steve's waist, keeping him close as he shortly whistles three times. A screech sounds from the ceiling, followed by the flapping of wings and a bat flying out to land on Eddie's outstretched arm.

With his foot, Eddie shuts the door as he holds the bat in front of Steve so he can get a better look. The bat is small, no more than three inches, and its nose looks vaguely like an upside-down heart. It tilts its head, studying Steve in return as it shifts on Eddie's hand. "Isn't she cute?" Eddie asks.

Steve smiles and holds his hand out to the bat, a few seconds passing before she moves from Eddie to him. "Yeah, she's really cute," he says as she surveys her new spot. She shifts a few times before pushing off Steve's hand and flying to his shoulder. She settles close to his neck, a warm softness against his skin partially hidden by his hair. And then she chirps, sounding like the squeaking of sneakers on a gym floor.

"She's an African heart-nosed bat," Eddie explains, starting to pull Steve down the stairs again. "They're very territorial, and they mark their territory by singing."

"Is that what she's doing?" Steve asks, raising his free hand to gently brush a finger against her head. She humors the touch for a few seconds before gently nipping his finger, not breaking the skin but clearly getting across that he shouldn't touch her anymore.

"Yep," Eddie says, grinning at Steve. "So, what are you gonna name her?"

Five ~

Hulyet buries herself in Steve's hair as he stares at the floor-length black dress Eddie holds up. She apparently picks up on Steve's confusion and slight concern, decides something is invading their territory, and begins singing aggressively in Eddie's direction.

The sudden squeaks and chirps break Steve out of his confusion, and he can't help a laugh. He reaches up, gently stroking her back to reassure her that everything is fine, and asks Eddie, "What's with the dress?"

"All Hallow's Eve is approaching," Eddie says, "I thought we could go as Dracula and his bride."

"Am I the bride?"

Eddie pauses, looking at the dress for a moment before looking back at Steve. "I haven't figured that out yet," he admits. "If you don't want to be the bride, I don't mind it."

Steve blinks, suddenly realizing this is Eddie trying to plan a couple's costume for Halloween. A familiar warmth floods through him, and he can't help smiling. He studies the dress, coming to the conclusion that he doesn't mind wearing it. For Eddie, of course.

Well, actually, he also thinks it looks hot.

"Okay. Let me try it on," he says, holding out his hands. Eddie lights up, handing over the dress and looking at Steve expectantly.

Well, there goes changing in the bathroom. Steve sighs, feels relieved he wore briefs, and strips down. Hulyet grips tighter to his hair as he moves, chirping once in indignation before settling once more as Steve wiggles his way into the dress.

It's tight, but not overly so. The material hugs curves Steve didn't even know he had, and the neckline plunges between his pecs and stretches into off-shoulder sleeves. The very bottom of the dress flares outward in a spiderweb pattern formed by lace. He takes a few experimental steps, relieved to find his movement isn't too restricted by the dress and fascinated to discover the spiderweb at the bottom stays perfectly spread out.

"How's it look?" Steve asks, turning to Eddie only to find that he'd moved right behind him at some point. He startles, taking a step back and getting his foot caught on the back of the dress. Before he can hit the floor, though, Eddie catches him, arms around his waist and holding him in a dip.

Steve's heart is pounding against his ribs, his breath short as he tightly grips Eddie's jacket collar and tries to ignore Hulyet painfully yanking on his hair. Eddie grins at him and says, "You look enchanting, Stevie. I would have fallen on my knees to worship you if you didn't beat me to the falling part."

Steve snorts and relaxes his grip, sliding his arms around Eddie's neck instead. "How long are you planning to hold me like this?" he asks.

"I could hold you as the world burns to ash around us. Even after we die and have decomposed, our skeletons will still be wrapped around each other, forever locked together."

From anyone else, Steve thinks he would worry about being murdered. But from Eddie, Steve just thinks it's one of the most romantic things he's ever heard, right alongside everything else Eddie has ever said to him. "That sounds perfect," he says, happily smiling into the kiss Eddie gives him.

Plus One~

"Fucking hell, Steve, stop bothering me about this!"

Steve frowns at Dustin, slouching on the couch as he anxiously turns a velvet box over in his hands. Dustin is laid out on the floor with a bowl of cheese puffs, his head resting on Dart's back as the demodog naps. "You're such a supportive brother," Steve says, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Dustin scoffs and throws a cheese puff at Steve's head. "I was plenty supportive the first fifteen times! Just fucking give him the ring already," Dustin says, returning the stuck-out tongue that Steve sends him before looking down at his phone and typing something. "Dude, it's Eddie. You could give him a used soda can and he'd give it a fucking pedestal in his room."

Okay, yeah, Dustin has a point. That doesn't make Steve any less nervous, though. He forces himself to take a deep breath, pushing down his anxiety long enough to say, "You're right. I'm sorry."

"Literally, when have I ever been wrong, Steve?"

"Shut up."

Dustin flashes a grin just as Eddie's familiar rhythmic knock sounds against the door right before he opens the door. "By the way, I told Eddie to come over so you'd stop bothering me," Dustin tells him, his grin widening as Eddie saunters into the room.

"All right, gremlin," Eddie says, nudging Dustin with his foot, "get out."

As Dustin practically bolts from the room, Dart right on his heels, Steve decides he's going to make zucchini spaghetti for dinner so Dustin is forced to suffer through vegetables.

"So, whatcha got there, Stevie?" Eddie asks, perching on the couch next to Steve and looking pointedly at the box in his hands.

Well, there's no escaping it now.

Steve takes one more deep breath and opens the box. He pulls out the ring inside and presents it to Eddie. It's smaller than the rings he normally wears, but the sterling silver band is engraved with bat wings and an anatomical heart is carved into the garnet on top. A small, almost imperceptible clasp can be found just under the garnet. "I found it at an antique store with El and Max," Steve explains. He hesitates before carefully pushing the clasp to reveal a compartment just beneath the garnet. "It's one of those poison rings."

Eddie is uncharacteristically silent as he takes the ring, carefully shutting the compartment so he can turn it over in his hands. Once he's fully inspected the band and garnet, he pushes on the clasp and studies the size of the compartment. Finally, he slips the ring onto his left ring finger, his sharp canines coming into full view as he grins. "Yes, of course."

"Uh, yes what?"

"You're proposing, and I'm saying yes," Eddie explains, taking Steve's hand and bringing it to his lips. He kisses Steve's palm before lightly dragging his teeth over it, and Steve thinks he shows incredible character growth by not jerking his hand away.

His brain catches up a few seconds later. "Wait, proposing? This wasn't...I just...we've only been dating for three months?"

Eddie hums softly in agreement, sliding Steve's hand to his cheek and leaning into the touch. "I know," he says, "We've shown incredible restraint so far. Most Munsons get married within weeks of meeting their loves."

Honestly, that doesn't surprise Steve at all. Who could resist the Munson charm? Who could say no to the all-consuming devotion that shows no sign of ever fading? Steve's mouth suddenly feels dry. "Right," he mumbles, gently brushing his thumb over Eddie's cheek, "That, um, that's just a little fast, I think."

Eddie's smile doesn't fade one bit. He just nods, his eyes glowing with understanding and love and Steve's weakening resolve practically crumbles when Eddie says, "That's okay, Stevie. As long as I can see you and be near you, I don't care about anything else. You could put a knife through my heart, and I'd thank you for the chance to get a closer look at your eyes."

Steve...Steve is fucking weak. He abandons any idea of maintaining a distance between them, climbing into Eddie's lap and kissing the cheek he isn't holding. "It's not an engagement ring, but...but consider it an engaged-to-be-engaged ring," he says, the words feeling ridiculous as he speaks them.

But that doesn't matter because Eddie practically lights up. "Is that a promise? That we're engaged to be engaged?" he asks.

"Yeah," Steve says, his voice soft, "Just wait at least three more months before you propose, okay?"

Eddie's grin gets even wider, and he presses a searing kiss to Steve's lips, leaving him breathless and light-headed and absolutely sure Eddie is already planning his proposal.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #addams family au #addams! Eddie Munson #dustin henderson #el hopper #hulyet is yiddish for howl btw #addams family steddie #addams family romance my beloved #my writing

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nanaslutt · 3 months

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Self love is the best love

cont: sukuna sucks himself off, masturbation, nipple play, trueform!Sukuna

note: anon who requested this, I love ur brain this is filth

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Sukuna didn't always have the energy to fuck some concubine and treat them roughly, sometimes he needed to get himself off slow and lazily, but the king of curses couldn't just expose that side of himself to some other being, which is where his unique body comes in handy.

When Sukuna had first discovered this special talent of his, he had been eating a dish Uraume had cooked for him. A slab of meat slid off his plate and landed square on his crotch. Without a second thought, the king opened the mouth on his stomach and used his tongue to scoop up the discarded food. Only at that moment, when the tongue licked up the food on his lap, the wet and warm appendage slid over his clothed crotch in the process, nearly making him choke on his food from the unexpected touch.

When Sukuna was alone that night, he decided to recreate his little accident, this time with the intent of touching his cock on purpose. Untying the night robe his impressive body was adorned in, he let the cloth fall to the side of him, exposing his already hard cock, poking through the thin material of his underwear.

Sukuna stared at his cock, watching it twitch as he slid one of his four arms down his body and pulled the fabric down his legs, making his hard cock spring up and land on his tummy. Sukuna hadn't paid it much attention before, but the length of his cock actually reached past his stomach mouth.

Hesitantly and ever so slowly, both unusually uncharacteristic movements of the king, he opened the mouth on his abdomen and let his tongue fall out, cradling the underside of his cock. Sukuna felt things in his second mouth a little differently. He could taste the same, which would prove unfortunate in a situation like this, but he didn't feel as much with this mouth. It felt dull, numbed almost, meaning when he licked his cock, although he was in control, it almost felt like someone else was doing it for him.

He winced at the bitter taste of his own cum when his excited cock spurt out a bead of pre, dripping onto his tongue. Relaxing into the bed, Sukuna spread his legs apart and flexed his arms behind his head, cradling it. The other two lay idly on his torso, crossed over his body.

Once he registered the feeling of his hot tongue on his cock, he poked it out more, licking a fat stripe up the underside of his length before toying with the tip. The king groaned softly, he was already getting used to this. Ignoring the bitter taste of his skin and arousal, he decided to push forward. Scooting his legs up on the bed, he placed his feet firmly against the mattress, angling his cock perfectly against his second mouth.

Legs spread wide, he slowly thrust his cock upwards, as if he were fucking someone. At the same time, he stuck his tongue completely out, letting his cock rub against it, not closing his lips around it just yet. At this new angle, Sukuna was able to slide his cock deeper in his mouth, his entire cock down to his balls reaching inside the mouth.

Sukuna arched his back against the sheets briefly, situating himself more comfortably in his bed. The thin red canopy that surrounded his bed did little to conceal his filthy acts. If someone were to walk in right now, they would see everything through a red tint. Not like Sukuna would let them live after witnessing him in a state like this.

Biting his bottom lip between his teeth, Sukuna thrust his hips upward in his mouth before he finally closed the lips, engulfing his cock. He groaned, slightly registering the feeling of a cock in his mouth, but the sensation was too dull to be unpleasant. Uncrossing his arms from over his torso, Sukuna reached down with one hand to grab his balls, massaging them in his large hand as he thrust his cock in his mouth.

If Sukuna wasn't such a sadist and didn't love and crave the feeling of his concubines squirming and crying underneath him as he fucked them till their breaking point, he would be completely satisfied with getting himself off like this for the rest of his time alive. He cursed himself for not trying this sooner.

His breathing started picking up as he lazily thrust his cock in and out of his mouth, his length getting completely engulfed by his second pair of lips. Each time his fat tip hit the back of his soft tongue when he thrust his hips inside, his eyes fluttered in his sockets, threatening to roll back in his head. It was so warm and so wet. He swirled his tongue around his cock in a circular motion, making it feel like someone was jerking him off and sucking his cock a the same time, it was heavenly.

His sharp nails grazed the skin of his taint as he massaged his balls, squeezing a little tighter whenever he felt a particularly delicious sensation. His other hand had been toying with his nipples, flitting back and forth between the two. He flicked his nipple up and down, making his abdomen clench with his arousal each time he did so. Pinching them made him groan out loud, but it also made his cock leak, meaning he had to taste the cum dripping from his head. A necessary sacrifice.

Sukuna snarled, his jaw flexing under the weight of his teeth as he bit down hard, suppressing a loud groan that wanted to slip through. Sukuna was getting more and more worked up the longer he sucked his cock, taking his shaft in deep. A hand behind his head left its position and started tweaking with his other nipple, making sure both had attention at all times, his fourth hand still cradling the back of his head.

His eyes had long been shut now as he pleasured himself, focusing on how warm his tongue felt around his cock. Sukuna felt his orgasm creep up on him faster now. Truthfully he had felt himself get closer to orgasm when he started giving both his nipples attention. Sukuna was quite sensitive up there, and he was even more so when he got himself off because of how neglected they had been.

Sukuna didn't let his prey anywhere near his chest, not wanting to expose such a weakness to someone far inferior to him. The wait was always worth it though, his chest never failing to bring him close to orgasm each time he jerked himself off, this time being no different.

Sukuna's groans were now falling from his lips more freely, his hips losing their already sloppy rhythm as he fucked his mouth, just on the verge of orgasm. Sukuna made a last-minute decision, begrudgingly from his body's wish, and pulled his cock out from between his lips. Grabbing it with his fourth hand, he started jerking himself off furiously, making sure to keep his stomach mouth shut.

As much as Sukuna would love to suck himself off to completion and cum inside something, he couldn't fathom eating his own cum, so this would have to do. His jaw fell open as he massaged his balls, his hand stuttering over his cock before stilling as he reached his orgasm. "Ohhhhh- fuuuuck" Sukuna grit through his teeth, his lips pursing around them as the first hot rope of his cum shot out of his dick, landing on his abdomen.

He pinched his nipples harder, tweaking them as he came hard. His body spasmed and his body jerked inward on itself as his orgasm wracked through his body, shot after shot of his cum spilling on his hot chest, cradled in the dimples and ridges of his chest and abs. His hands gripped his balls harshly as he continued milking himself, cum coating his hand as the ropes got weaker, spilling over his fingers.

Sukuna shook his cock back and forth, tapping it against his abdomen as he ensured each and every last drop of his seed was freed from his balls. Sukuna's breathing started to even out, his hand leaving his cock to rest on his thigh. His other hands left his now sore nipples, one resting on his forehead, the other cradling behind his head once more, his fourth hand staying gripped around his balls as he basked in the aftershocks.

Even though Sukuna had come down from his high, he could sense no shame for what he had just done, he was only relaxed and impressed. The king was looking forward to putting this new trick of his to good use in the future after experiencing an orgasm like that.

#jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #sukuna smut #sukuna ryomen smut #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #jjk sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #true form sukuna #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna ryoumen smut

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unmarlou · 3 months

Text

time to pretend.

pairings. slytherins x fem!reader

summary. a typical day at the summer house.

lacy says. saltburn inspo but no bath water :/ this is bad lol purely for the aesthetic.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

"oi!"

the morning sun was beaming down stronger than yesterday. your sunglasses weren't even enough to keep you from squinting, though the book in your hands did good job if held at the right angle. and had it not been for the towel between, your skin would've been sticking to the lawn chair.

"morning blaise..." pansy said dreamily at your right. she was still half asleep.

you looked over your shoulder and saw blaise approaching, draco in tow. "didn't even bother to tell us you were out here, i see."

"we wanted you to get your beauty sleep, darling. nice swim trunks." they had tiny hula girls on them.

"i am a man of fashion." he plopped himself at the chair to your left, adjusting his shorts and sunglasses. he flashed a smile - a pretty one that only he could own and flaunt regardless the time of day. he quickly nudged your leg and pointed to draco, who sat at pansy's feet.

he was covered in noticeable amounts of sunscreen, head to toe. not only with a look of distain on his face but his slouch conveyed a message just fine on its own.

involuntarily a snort escaped, followed by stifled laughs.

"oh shut up."

even pansy, who was curled on her side away from everyone, sticking her hand out to some small animal, laughed, "we're only admiring you.”

all he could do was roll his eyes.

"stolen my chair then, have you?"

everyone’s attention turned to the voice, only to see enzo, also in his bathing suit, holding a platter of fruit. he almost looked like the cover of a magazine your mother wouldn't let you buy.

glancing over the back of the chair you could see mattheo and theodore walking in the field, talking lazily, probably sharing their first hellos of the day.

lorenzo placed the silver plate down on the small table between the chairs. you had asked him to bring something to eat expecting a piece of toast, though with him, you should've known better.

"well we can share, you know?"

"thank you, enzo."

he gave you a quick nod and wink, his way of saying no problem, never wanting to make a big deal out of gestures he found to be the minimum in his friendships.

"want me to sit on your lap then, blaise?"

draco rang on your left, "past a strawberry… please."

your arm extended to him, presenting three instead of just one. he cracked a reluctant smile, always surprised at how well you all knew him, never letting him stay miserable for long, "thanks."

a new shadow appeared on the ground in front of you causing you to peer up and greet theodore, "fruit?"

he shook his head, eyes still puffy and barely open, indicating he had just awoken. he stretched and rested his hands on either side of yours and pansy's chairs. bringing his forehead down to his left hand, he seemed to be taking a chance at sleep again.

"theo's had a rough morning."

you turned again and almost cackled at the sight of lorenzo sitting in blaise's lap, and mattheo sitting in lorenzo's. you could've sworn you saw the chair slightly give way under their weight.

pansy teased, "but an excellent night, isn't that right, teddy?"

he groaned loudly. drinking was never his strong-suit. he could roll and smoke all day, even on his worst, but going shot-for-shot was something he did only when feeling the most audacious. and something he always came to regret.

he shuffled his way to the small dock at the pond in front of you. eyes still closed, he laid down on the edge, his arm hanging over and into the water.

"hangover so bad he had to reconnect with nature."

“we’ve all been there.”

you smiled idly. placing the book on your stomach, not even considering an odd tan line. tilting your head back, your eyes closed.

a breeze blew, giving your skin a break from the exhausting heat it was under. you could feel the full trees above sway, and hear the water of the pond move with theodore’s helping hand. the low indistinct chatter of your friends simply background noise to remind you you weren’t alone in this oasis.

most mornings were like this. easy and quiet, any and all problems excluded from this place, this bubble of a world you had. if ever asked what moment you wished you could relive again and again, it would always be this.

the large, wall lining, arched windows of the left wing hallway made it the sunniest place in the house at this time of day. and the cold tile felt nice under your concrete-burnt feet.

the windows were wide open, allowing the plants and hung-dry linens of the courtyard to creep in and fill the corridor with a scent that could make one nostalgic for a place and time they’ve never even been.

your steps were the only sound until they multiplied. by the cadence of the walk, you knew who it was.

“theodore feeling any better?”

“loads,” in the corner of your eye you could see him pull a cigarette out and spark a light, he took a long drag before continuing, “gave him one of my cures.”

you shuddered, twisting your face. mattheo had an affinity for putting ingredients in a pot, mixing it up, and saying it would fix any and all problems. sometimes you thought even he didn’t believe his own words, he just liked seeing your face contort in disgust. “let me know when his tail starts growing.”

entering the room at the end of the hall, the sound of the shower running became clear. the french doors of the back wall were open, allowing air to flow freely.

you spun on your heel and allowed yourself to fall onto the four-poster, now staring at the charm displayed up on the canopy. one you recognized, as all your parents used to do it when you were children; a depiction of the night sky, to lull you to sleep and wish you sweet dreams.

mattheo was on his stomach next to you, carefully tapping ashes off the side of the bed. in the lighting of the room you could see how summer had be treating him, skin tanned by the sun, while his hair only got lighter. he tapped your arm for your attention, and pointed to the bathroom, furrowing his brows.

“pansy.” you answered.

an oh formed on his face.

the sound of wind chimes rang in the distance, accompanied by tree leaves brushing against each other, and birds singing softly. there were actually a few birds gathered at the small balcony just outside the french doors. they always seemed to gravitate towards pansy, all the beauty in life resided to her.

“i wonder what snape is doing right about now.”

you groaned, putting your hands over your face, trying to hide from the imagine of your professor in your mind, “don’t mention him, his energy will invade the space.”

“say his name three times and he’ll appear, you know!” pansy’s shouting voice carried into the room. there was actually no need for her to, you could hear her perfectly fine seeing as the bathroom door was wide open; she hated having it closed, never wanting to be separated from the rest of world for too long.

you shouted back, “says she who flirts with him for a higher grade!”

“it’ll work one day, just you wait!”

this was true, she was absolutely convinced she could charm her way to at least Exceeds Expectations. not that anything had given her an indication it had worked in the past. or ever.

mattheo sat up, almost choking on his laugh, “just do what enzo does, pretend your best friends with him.”

the shower turned off, followed by long rustled movement before she walked out. she held a stark white towel to her body, water droplets coming off her hair and onto her freckled collarbones. “does it work?”

he ran a hand through his hair while reaching to put his cig out on the bedside ashtray, “ ‘course not. but easier to watch and keep the lunch down than your attempts.”

she made a face before opening one of the dresser drawers next to her and chucking a pair of balled-up socks at him.

suddenly the door bursted open, presenting blaise and lorenzo. they wore cheesy smiles and had their arms extended out beside themselves, “OUR DINNER OUTFITS!”

both were still wearing their swim trunks from earlier in the day, yet this time accompanied by suit jackets, ties, - that certainly did not match and they definitely dug up from the attic - dress shoes, and jewelry to go with. theo ran up behind and wrapped a boa around blaise’s neck.

“no fair! i want one!”

“there’s a whole lot more in the boxes we found, hurry up and we’ll get you one.”

“didn’t think to include me, then?”

“those have to be at least 60 years old.”

“jesus enz, what kinda parties did your dad used to throw?”

he flopped on the bed, a dust cloud emerging from the jacket, causing you to cough and wave your hand through the air. “no clue,” he leaned closer to you, showing his wrist, “but look at this fancy watch i found.”

it looked as old as time.

“no doubt you’re sweating enough for all of us in those?” draco leaned on the doorframe.

“would be unnatural if we weren’t.”

pansy walked to the armoire, and shuffled her hanging clothes along until she found what she was looking for: a silk black dress. she picked the hanger off the rack and walked it over the french doors, putting on the doorframe. she turned to everyone’s eyes on her and shrugged, “might as well.”

playing dress up was always fun, especially when all the glamour was real. watches and diamonds, boas and silks.

the dining hall was lit, wall to expansive wall with candles. the curtains up high drawn back, displaying the rising moon. the long table in the center was decorated with the most gorgeous grand arrangement.

the house elves had absolutely outdone themselves, platters of food spanning each end of the table. and though you didn’t see much of them, you made a mental note to seek at least one out and thank them.

after more digging around and even a trip to the attic, which made you consider taking a second shower of the day, you had found the best box of all; charles berkshire’s record collection. bowie, zeppelin, beatles, queen - it was a 60s/70s wet dream. so for the first time in what must’ve been years, the gramophone record player of the dining hall was to be put to use.

with everyone now standing at their respective seats, prosecco was to be poured.

mattheo, who sat on the right head of the table, was the one to open it; he always was. his naturally mischievous smile was one to be admired, especially when each of you wore the same one. with a big POP! he went around and filled everyone’s flutes - although you all cheered, the night hadn’t started just yet.

each with your drinks, lorenzo danced over to the record player and placed the needle down. a night at the opera began. he slowly turned to face you all once again, raising his glass and walking back to his seat, the left head of the table. all other glasses were then raised high, and his role as host was to be fulfilled, “live forever!”

“live forever!” you chorused, arms extending closer to each other before cheers erupted once again, louder this time, accompanying the crescendo of death on two legs. cups were brought to mouths, and taking your first sip you could’ve sworn you recognized that phrase, somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, but couldn’t seem to place it.

pulling chairs forward, everyone was sat. looking around, under the immense candle light their faces had a new glow, one that filled you with an unexplainable excitement. the night had begun.

the feast was lovely, you all agreed it must’ve been the best you’d ever had. though you could’ve just been drunk and hungry.

“this is the best food i’ve ever tasted.”

“best.” emphasized lorenzo.

mattheo covered his mouth, still chewing, “never been better.”

this conversation happened multiple times since you had started eating. each time blaise ended it by saying, “god we sound like our parents.”

the room smelled like the extravagant parties back home, the boys smoking their macanudo’s - inspirado black’s, they swore by - leaving strong cigar smoke lingering above you. pansy had drank enough to pull out her cigarettes, and one was passed around the table. your glass was bottomless, literally, allowing your feeling of weightlessness to continue.

the conversations around were indecipherable, you just sat picking at whatever food was left on your plate, intent on listening to the music in the background. the record player was enchanted, never needing for someone to get up and change the record; once the needle was down, and an album was over, a new one would take its place.

you took another sip of whatever it was in your glass, listening to the end of some song, what was going to play next didn’t even cross your mind until the beginning chords of a new one rang out. standing up suddenly, causing your drink to slightly spill on the hard wood, you gasped, “this SONG.”

your arm immediately shot out to pansy, who looked up at you mid-drag and smiled. you couldn’t even remember what song it was or where you had heard it before but you knew it was imperative to give it its own moment. meeting each other halfway, arms waiting for the other person and giggling, your hands interlocked with hers.

dancing, spinning around, and laughing; you had never felt so blissfully unaware. or dizzy.

more bodies appeared around the two of you, but ones you knew well and invited with the most love one could feel for another person. blaise’s boa wrapped around him and draco as they danced and sang, theodore holding a bottle of champagne while mattheo bent lower to waterfall it, and enzo grabbing both yours and pansy’s hands to spin you simultaneously.

you weren’t sure who’s laugh was who’s, or what song was playing, who’s hand you were holding, or what drink was being poured, not like any of it mattered. once again you had entered a bubble, impenetrable from the outside world.

the library couch was the comfiest in the whole chateau. the fire had been crackling for some time, accompanied by lorenzo’s piano playing on the west wall. he was actually the best you’d ever heard, though he shyly kept his talent close to his chest - until the proper moments.

you watched the embers pop off the fire mindlessly, not thinking about anything in particular. a book sat in your lap but it had been forgotten long ago, your unfocused eyes unable to retain the words. they were however able to travel upwards to the painting on the mantle, for the first time you truly looked at it - it was a group of people, slightly older than yourself. you immediately recognized lorenzo’s father, although here he was more handsome, his son certainly took after him. searching farther you spotted a woman, and after some staring you deduced it was bellatrix, her cheekbones being the exact same as mattheo and enzo. she truly was beautiful, regardless of the sinister look she was giving through the paint. you couldn’t make out the others, though you noted a boy, who was definitely younger than the rest, with curls that fit his face well and a solemn expression that carried a worlds worth of weight.

mattheo and draco sat on the rug, silently playing chess. they had become more and more fond of muggle chess as the summer went on.

pansy was sprawled out on the lounge chair to your right, the spaghetti straps of her dress daring to slip off her shoulders. her eyes were closed as she hummed - incorrectly - to the piano. she hung her head over the edge, causing her bangs to fall off her face, and her now open green eyes found yours. your smiles matched each other.

blaise, who was seated next to you on the couch, had his legs resting on the ottoman. he was holding a letter from his mother that had arrived a couple days ago, just now finding the time to read it. theodore was in the opposing lounge chair, eating the chocolates that accompanied the letter. she had sent them just for him - his favorites from honeydukes he had sorely missed. he watched mattheo and draco’s game intently.

“play that last one again.” you had called out to enzo.

he scooted his chair and looked over his shoulder, “liebestraum no. 3?”

“sure.”

“you like liszt?”

you paused, turning to face him and furrowing your brows in obvious confusion, before replying to the best of your ability, “…i like you?”

he gave a smile that was only reserved for you. liebestraum no. 3 began again.

you slumped down on your side, your feet now hitting blaise’s clothed thigh, he gave a tap to your ankle, indicating recognition but not taking his eyes off the letter. with your ear now against the armrest, your breathing slowed.

you focused on every sound. the chess pieces gliding across the wood board followed by draco’s or mattheo’s huffs of concentration, the faraway wind chime carrying in through the open window, lorenzo playing that piece you had grown to love in the last few minutes, the pops of fire, pansy’s subtle soft humming, and the crinkle of the papers blaise held.

your eyes closed, whether voluntarily or not you weren’t sure, but you didn’t fight it. overwhelming comfort and content had taken you, warmth from all over allowing absolute relaxation.

“hey… hey, wake up.”

“y/n… y/n…”

the harsh nudge of your arm made you open your eyes. squinting up, you could make out blaise and theodore. you, unintentionally, matched their tone by whispering back to them, “what?”

“wake up, we’re going for a swim.” blaise flashed you the same smile from the morning, it was so genuine even your groggy mind thought of how you’d never know anyone else with one like that. theo had moved on to wake pansy.

draco’s voice came from behind the couch, “she awake?” before an answer came he peered over from above and your eyes met, “lovely. now get pans and let’s go.”

sitting up and looking around you finally realized why everything looked different - the fire had gone out. now the only light was the full moon shining through the windows. the room was coated in silver.

you rubbed your eyes harshly to adjust and looked over to see pansy doing the same, “what do you want again?” her voice was raspy and tired.

“swimming.” you answered, standing up with the help of blaise’s hand. once to your feet you realized you were still in your dinner attire, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. you stuck an arm out to her. grasping it and standing, she opened her eyes wide and blinked rapidly. her voice was abruptly normal again, “well c’mon then.”

the boys were close behind the two of you, exiting the library. the entire manor was the same coloring of silver and blue. any other place and you would’ve been creeped out and uneasy, but in this place with these people, you could never feel anything other than safe.

going your separate ways from them to change, you and pansy walked the corridors, chatting nonsensically.

entering your room, you undressed quickly, happy to get the confining dress clothes from what seemed like hours ago, off of your body. you picked a bathing suit from drawers, tossing one to pansy too, who couldn’t be bothered to go to her room. both of you helped the other tie their suit.

voices in the hall approached your door, before a series of knocks. you both called back, “yeah?”

draco’s head peered in cautiously, before noticing you both were clothed, then opening the door fully to reveal the others. he held his arm up, “we’ve got towels, come on.”

all the boys said some iteration of come on and let’s go, eager to get out. rushing, you both were handed towels. excited chatter overtook the group, voices echoing and bouncing off the expansive walls. lorenzo appeared suddenly from the back, running, and yelling at the top of his lungs.

this triggered a domino effect, everyone was now chasing each other down the halls. something in the back of your mind told you to look around, and when you did, it seemed as though childhood had come back. playing games and having races with the same people that ran beside you now. watching their faces as they passed you saw summers long gone, of late night swims and early sun-basking mornings, dress up dinners and quiet library lounging. you ran and ran and ran.

your bare feet hit the concrete of the patio before hitting the dewy grass. though night, it was still warm, humidity latched to your skin. you had joined hands with blaise, a silent agreement. the moonlight illuminated the pond, beckoning you to come forward. it was just a ways away.

lorenzo had made it first, his shout as he jumped in rattling everything in a 10 mile radius. for the rest of the summer he would go on to say that he had to have made the world record for largest splash.

mattheo was close behind, so close in fact you thought he might land on enzo’s head, though he resurfaced just in time to watch him jump in and moved out of the way.

you and blaise were next, hand-in-hand again, running off the dock, your screams silenced by the water. cold consumed your entire body for the first time in months. it was relieving to have your body soaked in something other than sunscreen or sweat. feeling the last of your friends enter after you, you opened your eyes and found them. swimming to each other, you grazed skin as if to say even in water, i’m right by your side. if you didn’t need air, you would’ve considered staying down there forever.

breaching the surface and taking a deep breath, you brushed all the hair out of your face. you looked around to find some with droplets combing through from their hair to their eyelashes, and others with water slicked-back hair. each was breathing as heavily as you, half from having to catch their breath, half from pure exhilaration.

water splashed from all directions, making you squint and do the same. you weren’t sure who was splashing you for the fun of it and who was splashing you because you had splashed them. yelps and laughs were echoing off the surrounding trees. the plants were drinking well tonight.

“let’s play chicken!” someone had shouted over all the noise. cheers of agreement erupted from the chorus and subsequently the excessive pushing of water was halted.

you had fond memories of chicken. it used to be the boys on the girls shoulders, back when they all were still shorter than pansy and you. but now they were taller and had built quidditch bodies. as much as you believed in yourself, you didn’t desire feeling a draco sized weight on your shoulders.

“girls versus boys!” you announced.

theo shrugged, “not much of a competition.”

blaise took him by the shoulder, “ay, beware of the black haired one, she likes to go for the eyes.”

it was decided you and pansy versus theodore and lorenzo. they were a great duo, the two of them were the beaters on the quidditch team. they surely knew how to work together.

theo stood behind enzo, waiting for him to dip underwater.

“oi try not to pull the hair, i’ve got a sensitive scalp.” enzo reached a hand up and combed the back his head. theo looked like he was going to say something, before just shaking his head and sighing, “m’sure i’ll manage.”

a countdown from three began, then hitting one, you and lorenzo went under. water engrossed your entirety once more. feeling pansys hand upon your shoulder for balance, then her leg, you held on. within less than a few seconds she was securely on and you rose. you took a big breath once again, pushing your hair out of your face. the boys were in sync with you.

almost immediately pansy and theo were at each others throats. their arms went up, interlocking, and their bodies casted a shadow on lorenzo and you. it was like a tiny pocket. shouts came from beside you; blaise, mattheo, and draco each yelling out what could’ve been tips but when shouting over each other it really just sounded like a bunch of nothing. you were pretty sure whatever they were saying was going to be unhelpful anyways.

between keeping your balance, trying to push enzo, and still treading, you were determined to win.

“ah! ow! STOP TRYING TO PUT YOUR FINGERS IN MY EYES I CANT SEE!”

pansy clearly was as well.

it suddenly hit you who you were up against. this was lorenzo, the single most ticklish person you’d ever know. you weren’t sure why you hadn’t thought of it earlier. with a mischievous smile and lots of trust that pansy could remain on your moving shoulders, you reached to his bare stomach and began prodding at him.

just as you expected, he started to freak out. “hey! HEY!” he laughed between his shouts, “STOP- STOP THAT! NOT- FAIR!”

the boys on side were having a field day.

“ENZ!”

“I CANT-”

“DONT YOU DARE DROP ME.”

and with a strong push from pansy up top, and another prod to enzo’s side from you, both of their exclamation were stifled by gurgles of water.

pansy dived down, quickly coming up and hollering. cheers were shared all around, even from theo and enzo.

“let’s stick to quidditch.”

“agreed.”

in the midst of it all, you turned to face the house. it wasn’t foreign to any of you by any means, yet catching it in this moment you couldn’t help but feel amazed by its beauty. as if you were truly noticing it for the first time. it harbored your love within its stone. your love for this season, your love for this place, your love for these people. looking at the scene you saw your friends, you reached for them and they accepted, reaching for you. you heard their laughs, saw their smiles, and felt the same on yourself.

all in one breath you realized what lorenzo had said earlier was not just some toast; it was a definitive proclamation.

in this bubble of a world, you would live forever.

· · ౨ৎ · ·

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beansprean · 2 months

Text

Support me on Patreon or send a tip on Kofi!

A commission from andieandiiandee(@TikTok) based on chapter 14 of “Hounds of Love” by @andiforyou!! ❤️

(ID in alt and under cut)

ID: 1. Waist up of human Nandor dressed in a chainmail shirt with chest plating, a silver sword dangling from his left ear, a brown leather belt, and a brown leather baldric over his shoulder attached to a real sword at his hip. His hair is half up, twin braids from his temples forming a bun at the crown of his head and held in place by a leather clasp threaded with a stick. He is leaning against a doorframe, arms crossed, and staring offscreen with hooded eyes and a small smile, a pink heart floating by his face. 2. What Nandor is looking at. Waist up of Jeremy and Guillermo from the back as they chat idly, the vague idea of a coat rack in front of them. Jeremy is wearing long white robes. Guillermo, half turned toward Jeremy with a smile as they chat, is making motions to shrug off his puffy winter coat. 3. Extreme closeup of Nandor's eyes as they fly open in shock, cheeks flushing red. 4. Close up of Guillermo in profile, from the bridge of his nose to just below his chest, as he shrugs his coat off to reveal his bare shoulder and arm in a plain black tank top, a golden chain around his neck disappearing into the shirt. His right hand, wearing a leather glove, pulls out a piece of black fabric with a dotted white design. 5. Hips up of Guillermo from Nandor's POV on a glowing pink background, surrounded by golden sparkles, as he drops the coat completely and throws a poncho over his shoulders to complete his outfit. He is paused in motion, eyes downcast, pink mouth pursed, arms raised chest-high as the poncho flutters into place around his shoulders. It is black and translucent, decorated with a silver beadwork pattern of spiderwebs. The end of the poncho hits right at his waist line, edges scalloped like bat wings with silver pearls adorning each peak. Four short makeshift spider legs are sewn to the bottom of his tank top, two on each side. In the background are pink-tinted close ups in Nandorvision: the flex of Guillermo's bicep, the stretch of his fingers beneath the glove, and the roll of his back and stomach beneath the tight tank top as his arms stretch overhead. 6. A pink-tinted Nandorvision fantasy: full body of Nandor and Guillermo in their current outfits as Nandor grabs Guillermo at the waist and dips him, knee pressing forward between his legs and head dipped to mouth at his neck. Guillermo's arms are looped around Nandor's shoulders and he is smiling blissfully, hearts floating around his head, cheeks flushed as he tilts his head to allow Nandor access to his throat. His left leg hitches around Nandor's hip as Nandor's right hand creeps beneath the hem of his tank top. 7. Shoulders up of the real Nandor, staring slackjawed at the visions before him, cheeks flushed red and eyes wide, irises gone pink to reflect where his mind is at. 8. Small corner panel of Nandor, chest up and casting a shadow on a sparkly pink background as he comes back down to earth. He blushes, flustered, and closes his eyes with resignation, thinking to himself: "I'm going to be beating suitors away with a stick..." /end ID

#wwdits #nandermo #mlm #hounds of love #fic rec #human nandor #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #jeremy wwdits #what we do in the shadows #what we do in the shadows fx #my art #fanart #fan comic #image described

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fantasyandshit · 4 days

Text

Replaced

Type:two shot

Part: 1/2

Part two here

Masterlist here

Pairing: Azriel x reader

Based off of this request

Hope this is heart breaking enough anon!

Trigger warnings- slight mention of ED behavior, torture, and implied violence

I stare out at the gardens, I used to think they were beautiful, I tended to them everyday, watered and checked all the plants, made sure the soil was perfect and they got the proper mix of shade and sunlight. I walked in them, sat on my bench under the giant cherry blossom tree and read my book. The gardens were always my space my place. I loved those gardens, always marveled at their beauty.

But not now. Now as I stare out at the gardens I’m disgusted by what I see, I hate the new flowers and the soil. I hate looking at it and I refuse to walk in it. I hate that my family simply gave my place to her. That Azriel gave it to her. That he sits out on my bench all cuddled up with her. Deep down I think that’s what disgusts me. Seeing him with her. No. Disgust isn’t the right word. It makes me sick, fills me with agony that spreads through my bones and boils in my blood. Sends jealousy spiking through my body like bolts of electricity.

When the middle Archeron had come into the family with her older sister- it was fine, everything was fine. My family was happy and although I always felt off about the female, I was civil. It was fine as my family turned to them, it was fine. They needed time and attention, like new animals. I let my family give them that. It was fine when I was asked to let her work in the gardens she ‘loved so much’. It was all fine.

It was all fine until they asked me to let her simply take over the gardens, ‘just so she can keep distracted and busy whilst adjusting’. It was fine till I came crying to Rhys about a vision I had, one of the first in nearly a month- I had seen something, I heard people screaming and blood everywhere, but ‘Elain hasn’t seen anything. It’s fine.’ It was fine till Azriel- my best friend for the last 500 years, the male I harbored feelings for. The male I loved for at least 450 years, turned to her. It was fine till she became all consuming. It was fine till ‘Elain needs me Yn.’ ‘Yn I have to go- Elain needs me right now. You know this is hard for her.’ ‘ Yn, stop being selfish- Elain needs me.’

It was fine till she became all consuming. Till no one listened to me, till Azriel- my mate, the man I loved with all my soul, left me for her. Turned a cold shoulder and left me. Till my family soon wrapped around the sisters and I lost them all.

Now I stare out at the gardens I once loved with disgust, nearly puking at the sight of the two cuddled up together, laughing about cauldron knows what. Now, as a headache comes on, the ones that always do before a vision, I simply slouch back in side, going to lay down on a couch. I want these seeings gone. No one cares anyway. If it doesn’t come from Elain Archeron, it means nothing. I mean nothing.

And it is now, as I lay myself across the chair that it truly sets in. He loves her. They love her. She is better. She is more beautiful and interesting and soft and she isn’t tarnished from years of fighting as I am, she is not the crazy woman I have become. She is Elain, she is all things soft and sweet, she is radiant and all consuming, she is powerful and all seeing. But most of all, she is the one Azriel wants. Not me. Her. He wants Elain Archeron.

———

I walk to the dining room for dinner, my head is a bit foggy and my eyes hurt. I keep my gaze down as I sulk into the room and take a seat next to Morrigan who talks idly with Feyre. It’s as if I’m invisible, no one even looks up to me as I walk in or sit, but of course, as soon as Elain comes in, everyone turns to her, conversations stopping. I simply look to my plate, fidgeting with my hands.

As everyone serves up their food, I sit, I’m not hungry. Plus, Elain is thinner, I want to be pretty like her and I have to be skinny to be like her. “Why aren’t you eating Yn?” Mor’s voice filters through my ears and it takes a moment for me to process them.

In a scratchy tone, caused by not using my voice, I reply. “Just not hungry I guess. Visions take it out of me.”

“You had a vision?”

“Yep. Third one of today.” My family pauses at that.

“Third? Today?” It’s Rhysand this time as his brows draw inward.

“Yes, they’ve been happening more and more often, I’m having at least 2-3 a day. I just want to rest.”

“Why haven’t you told me about them?”

“Because of two reasons. Rhysand.” His name is a hiss off my tongue as I speak, finally loosing my cool, “One, you would not care nor listen, haven’t for a single one of my seeings in the past month. And two- starting tomorrow I will no longer be working for this court.”

“What do you mean by that? Not working under this court?”

“I received a letter from Eris- he is ready to execute his plan to take over the autumn throne tonight and I shall be there tomorrow morning to begin my duties as his second in command.” The table is frozen, mixes of horror and sadness painting my ‘families’ faces.

“But-Yn you wouldn’t betray us like that would you?”

I can’t hold back the humorless, dry, laugh that leaves me. “Betrayal? I have Betrayed you?” My head whips to meet Rhysands as I stand and back away from the table. “Rhysand I have done nothing but support you. I was there for you three-“ I point to the three Illyrian males at the table, “in the war camps, I have been here sense we were learning to fly! I was there under the mountain! I lossed my gods dammed wings for you Rhysand. For you! Because you were my family.” Tears begin pouring down my face as I let everything I had bottled up out, “ I was there to support Mor after Eris’ ‘terrible acts’ and I kept my mouth shut about it being a half truth.” I look to the blond across the table who try’s desperately to avoid my gaze.

“I was there on the battle field. I told you my seeings no matter what they were. I stayed as I watched my family replace me, as I watched the man I loved fall for another over and over again. I stayed as my things were taken from me by her.” My finger points to the middle Archeron, Azriel moving slightly in front of her, “I have stayed as my family was ripped from me, I stayed and supported all of you even as my so called family replaced me, as the male I’ve loved as long as I’ve known him, as the male I have loved with my very soul, my very being, my mate.” I look into Azriels warm eyes, “left me for another, as my mate and my family left me in the dust for a new shiny toy.”

I breathe as I take a moment to survey the room, faces filled with shock and horror and sadness watch me. “So yes Rhysand.” It’s a sigh this time as I speak, tired, downright exhausted, “yes, I am leaving. But I am not leaving anything behind. I was already a ghost here anyway. I am leaving and taking my seeings and duties with me. You do not listen to them anyway, it will be no use to you.”

I snap and bags fall into my hands, I turn to the door, silence filling the room, “your my mate?”

“Yes Azriel- I am.”

“Yn wait let me-“

“Save it Rhysand.” I turn on my heel, “ I am leaving to a new kingdom, one that has much potential under their new leader. I am leaving to a court that I see thriving, I am leaving from the court I see crumbling- and it will not be my fault when it does.”

I turn back to the door, a gust of wind hitting me as I step out, taking the hands of the new high lord of autumn. Ignoring my family’s pleas and Azriels yells as I am taken back home.

—————

Okkkkk here it is! I hope you all enjoyed and thank you anon for the request!! Love y’all!

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #acotar #azriel #elain archeron #elain x reader #feyre archeron #feyre x reader #nesta archeron #nesta x reader #cassian x reader #cassian #rhysand x reader #rhysand #eris vanserra #eris x reader #angst #no happy ending

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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When MC Feels Burnout/Emotionally Numb THE DEMON BROTHERS 4.1k words | SFW | gn!Reader | Emotional Hurt/Comfort | Fluff & Angst A/N: The relationships between MC and the brothers can be read as romantic or platonic. The twins' sections are combined. ♫ [ MC's POV: Song Rec ]

─── LUCIFER:

Lucifer is concerned when you come to the dining room table for breakfast looking worse for wear; there's dark circles under your eyes like you haven't slept. You pour yourself a cup of tea and wrap your hands around the warm porcelain, but you don't drink it. Your breakfast plate remains untouched, and eventually you shuffle out of the room without a word.

He keeps an eye on you at RAD, but you're unusually withdrawn. You follow his brothers from class to class, eyes downturned and silent despite the lively conversations going on around you. Everyone walks home together that afternoon, but when he glances back to see how you are, he notices you’re lagging behind the rest of the group. He slows his pace to match yours, but you barely seem to notice; the walk home is silent.

When dinner time comes and goes without any change in your behaviour, he decides he needs to do something to snap you out of this little funk you're in. Later that evening, he invites you to keep him company in his study while he finishes his work. You accept in a monotone voice; it could be misconstrued as boredom, but he knows better.

Sometimes you read and listen to cursed records while he works at his desk, but tonight the random book you plucked off the shelf lays unopened in your lap. You stare unseeing into the fireplace, and your body is tense like you can’t relax.

He picks up something he was supposed to finish tonight—a folder full of documents to review and sign— but you barely notice when he sits beside you. He gives up all pretense of working when he places the folder and your unread book on the floor by his feet. He tucks you under his arm and pulls you against his side. You lean against him, a little reluctantly at first, until you start to relax. Your cheek is pressed against his chest and his heartbeat thumps gently beneath your ear.

He’s not sure how much time passes when you finally drift off to sleep. There’s something vulnerable about the way your body melts against his, and he wonders where he went wrong that led you to be in such a state to begin with.

He considers waking you so you can go back to your room to sleep. He contemplates carrying you somewhere more comfortable so he doesn't have to wake you—his room is closer, and maybe you won’t mind sharing a bed with him if it’s only for one night. Light and shadow from the fireplace dance along your skin, and you’re so warm in his arms; moving now seems like an impossibility.

A sore back in the morning seems like a fair price to pay when he decides to keep you exactly where you are. He maneuvers so carefully while he leans back against the armrest and holds you to his chest. He pulls the blanket off the back of the sofa and makes sure you’re covered before he closes his eyes. He doesn’t even notice that he syncs his breathing with yours, and he falls asleep not long after.

─── MAMMON:

Mammon eagerly tells you about his day—the things he bought, his wins at the casino, how his part-time gig is going—and he’s used to getting some sort of reaction from you (good or bad).

Today, you look at him blankly and tell him that’s nice in a quiet, emotionless voice that worries him. Having you scold him for being financially irresponsible (while you bite the inside of your cheek to resist the urge to smile) would be better than this. He’s stunned by your lack of a reaction, and you turn away from him when you’ve decided you don’t need to focus on paying attention to him anymore.

After dinner, he goes to your room and finds you laying in bed, staring at your ceiling and drumming the mattress idly with your fingertips.

"Whatcha doin’?" he asks, even though he knows what you're going to say next.

“Nothing,” your quiet, flat tone replies.

“Good. Come on,” he says in a much chipper voice than yours as he grabs both your hands and practically pulls you out of bed. He leads you outside the front door where his car is parked, thrumming gently while the engine runs. He flips on the seat warmer for you and glances at you occasionally from the corner of his eye; he hopes you’ll melt into the warm leather soon.

“We're just goin’ for a little drive,” he explains, even though you don't bother asking where he's taking you in the middle of the night. The radio is streaming music from his phone, and he keeps the volume low. He nods towards his D.D.D. on the dash. “You can change it if you want,” he offers, and he’s not surprised when you decline.

He drives away from the bustling streets of the Devildom. The road is empty and the skies are clearer here, but he knows brief moments of tranquility aren’t enough to alleviate whatever it is that’s bothering you.

He’s never been good with words, but he rests his hand palm-up over the gear shift. He’s not sure you even notice since you’ve been staring out the window most of the drive. After a few moments, you surprise him and put your hand in his. He squeezes your hand gently before lacing your fingers together; it feels like a victory when you don’t pull away.

Every once in a while he squeezes your fingers between his, and he smiles at the dark, open road when you do the same.

─── LEVIATHAN:

Leviathan knows what it’s like to feel numb. Sometimes he feels that way when his self-imposed isolation wears him down. Talking to Henry and surrounding himself with his games and manga and toys isn't always enough to fill the black void of jealousy that makes his tone sharp and his fangs even sharper.

He gets that way when he thinks about all things he wants but doesn’t have—he notices you become this way from doing too much for everyone else until you lose yourself in the process.

Between the two of you, you should be able to find some sort of balance. He feels like you should both know better, but here you are, drowning in your own black void while he watches helplessly. He can barely help himself; how can he possibly help you?

For lack of better ideas, he invites you to his room to play games. Usually you’re so animated when you play together; you jeer at him when he spins out due to a perfectly-timed banana, or you toss your controller aside and tickle him when his shell knocks you out of first place.

That level of enthusiasm is gone today; you tap the controller pad in total silence. You don’t care when you come in last place, and you don’t care when Levi throws the match so you can win. He turns off the TV and shuffles on the floor so he’s facing you. You glance at him occasionally but go back to staring at your lap.

Levi hates it when you cry, but he hates this dead-eyed stare of yours even more. He grunts in frustration when he gets up suddenly and grabs a small tin off his desk.

“Come here for a sec, I could use your help,” he says, and he shakes the tin in your direction until you get up from the sofa and shuffle to his side. He leads you to the aquarium where Henry bobs peacefully in the crystal-blue water. Levi hands you the tin and unfolds a step ladder he keeps tucked away. He climbs the ladder carefully so he can open the window at the top of the tank.

You open the can of fish flakes when he asks you to, and he sprinkles a generous helping across the top of the water. You’re transfixed by the sight of Henry dashing through the water for his supper, and Levi can’t stop staring at you.

“Sometimes he’s good to talk to,” Levi mentions off-handedly. “Henry is a good listener.”

(Both his Henry’s are good listeners, Levi thinks.)

“What do you talk about?” you ask him quietly, still watching the fish eat the tiny flakes.

“All sorts of stuff. Anything you want—he doesn’t judge.”

(You have that in common, too.)

Levi sputters a little, embarrassed by all the things he’s telling you, his little self-care rituals he normally keeps to himself. He thinks that even in your worst moments, like the way you are now, you’re still not nearly as pathetic as he is. You don’t deserve to feel like this, ever.

You glance away from the aquarium and meet Levi’s eyes just as tears begin to collect on his lash line. He clears his throat and takes the tin from you before putting it back on his desk. He pretends to organize things so he has an excuse not to turn around.

“Maybe you can come by tomorrow night and help me feed him again,” he manages to choke out.

A pause, and then you whisper, “I’d like that.”

Levi bites his lip to muffle his sobs.

─── SATAN:

Satan watches you during class and realizes you’re not acting like yourself. You tap your pen idly on the desk and stare at nothing. This is your favourite class but you’re not even listening.

Sometimes you come to his room after dinner and read, but not today. After school, you brush past everyone else and head to your room. He’s worried about you, and he’s not going to let you blow him off tonight. He knocks on your door, and your lifeless voice asks why he cares so much. He gets tongue-tied deciding how to respond:

I like spending time with you. You like reading nearly as much as I do and I don’t want that to ever change. It kills me to see you like this.

“It’s important to me,” is all he manages to say, and you must sense his desperation because you finally agree to follow him back to his room.

You sit on the bed while he picks the book off the shelf for you. You make a quiet noise of surprise when he places a pillow in your lap and lays down. Normally he reads to you, but his eyes are gentle when he holds the book out to you instead.

“Can you read a bit tonight?” he asks quietly. You frown and look like you want to argue, but he pushes just a little more—”for only a few chapters, okay?”

You take the book from him and pull out the bookmark when you find the right chapter. You glance down at him and when he smiles encouragingly, you start to read.

Your tone is quiet and dull at first, and your speech is slurred; Satan has trouble understanding you sometimes. He wonders if this was a stupid idea after all, but then you huff in amusement when you read a funny passage. He peers up at you and the little smile still tugs at the corners of your mouth as you finish the chapter.

You read another whole chapter after that, and Satan nearly melts in your lap when your free hand lazily combs through his hair as you read. Your eyes are a bit brighter when you finally stop reading and close the book.

“I can read a bit more if you’d like,” he asks you when he sits up. He almost expects you to refuse and shuffle away, but you nod and lay down when he sets the pillow in his lap for you to rest on.

He reads another chapter, quieter and slower than usual, and he stops reading when you fall asleep. He sets the book aside and moves you gently off his lap so he can settle into the space behind you. He drapes an arm loosely over your waist and contemplates other ways he can help you feel better.

─── ASMODEUS:

It breaks Asmo’s heart to see you like this. Your lovely complexion betrays the long days and poor sleep you’ve had. Your warm, shining gaze is dull. Your brow is creased with little lines and your mouth is downturned—he misses your easy smiles the most.

Sometimes Asmo feels like a ghost when he smiles at you but it feels like you see through him, not really acknowledging him or anything else around you.

He switches apps on his D.D.D. when he sees your message ping the group chat. You say that you’re not cooking dinner tonight (no explanation given) and that Lucifer should use part of your allowance this week to order food for everyone instead.

Asmo doesn’t blame you for not wanting to cook for seven hungry demons, but he has a suspicion that you plan on locking yourself in your room all night and skipping dinner for the third night in a row.

(You might’ve been at the dinner table every night this week, but he noticed that you just moved the food around in your plate without eating anything.)

No, he won’t let you do this to yourself. He understands wanting space and having lazy days, but that isn’t what this is. This is isolation and sadness and exhaustion, and if he feels this upset seeing how affected you are, he can’t imagine what you feel—or don’t feel—inside.

Asmo sends a quick message to Lucifer and asks him not to order anything for dinner just yet. Worst case scenario, Asmo will cave and order dinner for everyone later—but for now, Asmo marches to your room with a plan instead.

You’re buried under the covers when he lets himself into your room. He doesn’t bother turning on the lights; he can see you perfectly without them. He sits down slowly on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on your hip.

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” he asks quietly, and normally you laugh away his pet names for you, but today you shrug under the comforter instead.

“M’fine,” you mumble into your pillow.

“I could use your help with something,” he says, leaning down closer to your ear. He presses lightly against the side of your body like a poor imitation of an embrace. “How about you get up and keep me company, hmm?”

You’re quiet and don’t say anything, and Asmo’s hopeful smile starts to drop when he thinks you’re ignoring him. After an awkward minute of silence, you sigh and turn your head slightly towards him. “Help you with what?”

He’s not going to give you the chance to change your mind, and he stands up and reaches for your hand. “I’ll show you in the kitchen.”

Asmo steers you towards a barstool in the corner of the kitchen so you can relax while he makes dinner. He has an assortment of ingredients spread out across the counter. The family recipe book is opened to one of your own additions added to the back pages.

“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” he grins and winks over his shoulder at you. “I’ll cook tonight, and if I get stuck, who better to help than you?” He taps his chin thoughtfully and takes his D.D.D. out of his pocket and hands it to you for safekeeping.

Asmo might not be the most skilled cook among his siblings, but he’s confident enough that he follows your recipe correctly—for the most part. If you didn’t know him better, you would think he was exaggerating his movements and adding commentary to each step to be silly. But you do know Asmo, and you recognize this as his natural playfulness when he does something he enjoys.

Nearly twenty minutes later, there’s splatters of sauce on the front of his apron and he adds more salt and pepper to the pot with a flourish. When he turns his head to check on you, his mouth purses in surprise when the flash on his phone camera lights up the room. He blinks rapidly when he realizes you took a picture.

He jabs the stirring spoon in your direction with a playful glare. “I hope you got my best side,” he jokes. He’s self-conscious about the spices he knows that got in his hair somehow, and there’s something sticky on his cheek.

You slip the phone into your pocket and slide off the stool so you can reach for a clean cloth. You run it under the lukewarm tap for a moment, and your lips twitch into a smile when you wipe away the smear of sauce near his mouth.

“You’re doing great,” you murmur quietly, glancing at the pot simmering on the stove.

“Does it smell good enough to eat?” he asks nervously, and he beams when you nod.

He wraps his arms around you and laughs as he hugs you as tight as he can. He knows the apron is making a mess on your clothes, but he doesn’t care. Neither do you, apparently—you wrap your arms around him after a few moments and hug him back.

─── BEELZEBUB & BELPHEGOR:

Beel walks to his room dejectedly, and not even the bags of treats from Madam Scream's hanging off his arms makes him feel any better.

He invited you to go with him to the pastry shop after school today. He knows you're not eating properly, but that combined with your bleak mood and dull expressions convinces him that there's something wrong beyond not being hungry.

He watched you during meal times every day this week: you shuffled your food around on the plate and didn't eat anything, or you took little nibbles out of something then dropped your fork on the plate with a sigh and left the rest uneaten.

He went to the bakery after school today, alone. Even though he invited you, you said you weren't in the mood and walked home without him. He bought a few boxes of his favourites, and some for his brothers to share, and he bought a half-dozen Blood Velvet cupcakes especially for you.

He knocked on your bedroom door when he got home and told you he had a surprise, but he was met with silence. He heard the faint creak of mattress springs, but you didn't come to the door and you didn't respond. He frowned, but he explained in the cheeriest voice he could muster that he brought you some cupcakes.

“Thanks, you can have 'em, though,” your muffled voice replied through the door.

It’s an understatement to say that Beel is extremely concerned about you.

He walks to the room he shares with his twin. Usually Belphie naps in the attic after school (more often than not, he convinces you to nap with him). It’s a surprise when Beel finds Belphie sitting cross-legged on his bed with his pillow in his lap, and his eyes snap to his brother’s as soon as the door closes.

“They're not eating enough,” Beel tells his twin. He sets aside the boxes of pastries he bought, his appetite and mood completely soured.

“They're not sleeping enough either,” Belphie replies. He doesn't tell Beel about your sleepless nights, but his brothers would have to be blind not to notice your haggard appearance and the dark circles blooming under your eyes. You haven't napped with Belphie in over a week either, and he misses you—but he keeps that complaint to himself.

"What can we do?" Beel asks as he drops heavily on the edge of his bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He leans forward, elbows on his knees, and runs a hand through his hair.

Belphie is quiet for a moment, and he glances at the boxes of abandoned pastries Beel brought home. "What’s the plan for dinner tonight?"

Beel looks up and scratches the back of his head. "Some of the others are busy so Lucifer said it was a free-for-all night."

(That usually means everyone orders takeout while Beel eats whatever is left in the house himself.)

Belphie stands up and tucks his pillow under one arm while he wanders over to the stack of bakery boxes near the door. He rifles through the bags until he finds the one he's looking for, and he gestures for Beel to follow him. "I have an idea. Come help me in the kitchen."

It’s peaceful in the deepest corner of the House of Lamentation gardens. Even if the others were home, there’s enough distance from the house to offer peace and privacy—it's nice out there.

Belphie thinks a picnic might be relaxing enough for you to enjoy; the hard part is convincing you to join them. The twins are determined and they both go to your room and insist you have dinner with them.

“You have to eat something,” Beel says in a pleading voice, eyes sorrowful with worry for you. It wasn’t quite enough to convince you to get out of bed, but you swallowed around the lump in your throat as your eyes burned with emotion.

Belphie crawled onto the bed next to you, dangling over the edge precariously while he reached for your hand and laced his fingers with yours. “Please,” he whispered, eyes just as sad as his twin’s, “it feels like I haven’t seen you all week. I miss you.”

You can’t possibly say no to both of them, not when Belphie’s face is so close to yours and his lower lip trembles with too much emotion. You know he can be manipulative, but even in your bleary-eyed daze, you realize he’s being unusually honest now.

You wipe away the stray tears that pool in the corner of your eyes and nod your head. Belphie slides off the mattress so Beel can help you up, and they both hug you before they lead you outside. By the time they take you to the garden, you’re all sniffling quietly, but the twins are smiling a bit now, too.

The blanket Belphie lays across the ground keeps you from getting too cold, and you all share portions of the improvised picnic the twins packed: sandwiches, a thermos of warm soup, a container of diced cheese and poison apple slices. You don’t eat as much as the twins do, but they look content that you finished eating everything on the small plate you made for yourself.

Beel offers you one of your cupcakes next. He brought the whole box—optimistic, Belphie said earlier, raising his eyebrows before shrugging and putting the box into the basket.

You sort of remember Beel knocking on your door earlier and asking you if you wanted one, and you know that you refused. You accept one now because you can’t bear to say no to him twice.

When the food is eaten and the dishes cleared away, Belphie lays back on the blanket and gently nudges you to lay beside him. He rolls onto his side and lays his head on your shoulder, and you can see him looking at you from the corner of your eye.

“Have I told you the story about that star?” he asks quietly, pointing towards the sky.

He probably has, considering how much time you both spend in the planetarium together, but you lean your cheek against his brow. “You can tell me again if you want to.”

He tells you the story about that star, and the other stars near it, and when your eyes start to droop heavily with sleep, he smiles and keeps going. He whispers more stories until your breathing slows and you start snoring gently in his ear; he hopes the stories follow you into your dreams.

Beel sits nearby on the large blanket, watching over both of you with a keen eye and soft smile; his belly is warm and full from a pleasant meal and your company. Belphie carefully maneuvers himself to his knees without waking you, and he stands up and stretches out the kink in his neck. Beel stands and lifts you so gently into his arms, and he cradles you to his chest while Belphie hurriedly packs up the picnic basket and blanket.

The house is dark and quiet when they slip back inside, and Belphie leads Beel to your room. They both tuck you in—Belphie pulls back the covers and Beel lays you down and slips off your shoes. Beel squeezes your hand and waits for his twin by your door; Belphie murmurs a final goodnight as he brushes his lips across your forehead.

The twins head back to their room, and all three of you have the best night's sleep you've had in days.

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