#malevolent melodies

[wakkossnackstash]

The CN AU crew has something excited planned for this week's Wakko Wednesday (tomorrow)! Keep your eyes and ears peeled! Or actually, don't peel them at all, that's disgusting!

#animaniacs 1993 #animanitag #animaniacs fanfic #cn au #causal nexus #wakko warner #wakko #animaniacs #malevolent melodies #may or may not be getting another chapter tomorrow hehe

[dilfsuzanneyk]

21st century breakdown has so many amazing songs like i cant believe 21 guns is the popular song off of it?? like dude east jesus nowhere is on that album. restless heart syndrome is also RIGHT there?? along with before the lobotomy and last night on earth and christian's inferno?? 21 guns is a good song and all but these guys are like. absolute bangers compared to her

#like in terms of. sound i guess #the rest just sound more interesting i think. #like dude restless heart syndrome is so....... #the lyrics on that one i really love. plus the melody just has such a hopeless and i guess angry?? malevolent???? sound to it that it adds #to the song. #like. man. 21 guns is a great song but what about these guys </3 #vex rambles #the pot band

[monstrouscrew]

Don't worry, it's not your fault

Anything could happen and it will

(Halou - It Was Safer When You Were Near)

... or "jfc i've painted a canon thing. between eps 9 and 10"

(ID in the alt text)

#k's art #malevolent podcast #arthur lester #john doe malevolent #the jester team #malevolent episode 10 #i have no energy to add descriptions to the others' art thx i can do it with mine #another three hours study sorry not sorry #listen to the song the lyrics fucking hit me and the melody has these colours imo #sing for me

[k-i-l-l-e-r-b-e-e-6-9]

I hate Roadrunner, why can't Wiley Coyote win Cartoons, make me angry, why can't Sylvester eat Tweety

#Skinless #Foreshadowing Our Demise #Merrie Melody #Release date: April 23rd 2001 #Full-length #Genre: Brutal Death Metal #Lyrical themes: Sick humour (early); Gore Death War Misanthropy Malevolence #USA

[dollhouse-tales]

i drop from the sky, a bouquet of flowers in my hand

Hello may i offer you some angeline for your essence project in these hard times?/ref

Gives u the bouquet and then i dissapear - 🤡

“…did someone just commit a flower and run?”

Angeline… I think she would work well as one of the voices, either as reason or doubt. Because of one hand, she can try and reason with the hero and Mister Mushroom and the Storyteller… but on the other hand, after every word that comes out of the Storyteller and Hero’s mouth, Angeline could go “or so they SAY” really suspicious and annoying like/j/lh

@askthepianist [im staring directly at you/lh]

#mod ghost #connection | essence content #guardian | gabriel #ooc | mod post #magical malevolence #musical melody | angeline

[chocopokkie]

Bound by Shadows

Summary: You attempt to break up with Alastor but it doesn't go so well.

TW: Non-con, yandere-ish Alastor, forced relationship, smut (let me know if I missed any!)

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I'm really sorry, Al," you murmur softly, your gaze avoiding his once-adoring eyes, now fixed with a grin that cuts deeper than any blade. "I just don't think we should be together anymore..."

"We can still be friends!" you hastily add, your voice betraying the tremor of uncertainty, "I just don't think—"

But before you can finish, a dark laugh cuts through the air like a chilling gust of wind.

"Haha!" Alastor's laughter drips with disdain as he interrupts, his tone laced with judgment. "My dear, I truly don't think you know what you're talking about. You think after everything I've done for you, you can just leave me, little doe? I believe I need to give you a reminder of who you belong to," he growls, his words like a predator's low warning growl.

Suddenly, the room shifts and morphs around you, the comforting walls of your room replaced by the dark, dense canopy of a forest. Panic surges through you, but before you can even grasp the gravity of the situation, you're violently shoved to the forest floor. The earthy scent fills your senses as black tendrils snake around your limbs, rendering escape impossible.

"Alastor, please, what are you doing?" you plead, your voice shaking with a mixture of fear and confusion. You attempt to struggle against the oppressive grip of the tendrils, but they hold you firmly in place, like iron chains. "Please, you're really scaring me!" you beg, desperation seeping into your words as you realize the gravity of the situation.

"Oh, as you should be, dear~," Alastor purrs sinisterly, his voice dripping with malevolence. "Because I'm going to make sure this is a lesson you never forget." With a snap of his fingers, the tendrils forcefully flip you over, leaving you on your knees with your face pressed against the cold, hard forest floor. Dread washes over you as you realize what's about to happen.

"N-No... Please..." you whimper, your voice barely above a whisper, desperation tainting every syllable. "Okay, I'm sorry! Please, I'll never do anything like this again, I swear! I love you! Just please stop..." You plead, reaching out to him in a futile attempt to appeal to his humanity, to make him see reason. But all you receive in response is a dark chuckle that sends chills down your spine.

"Oh, I know, baby~," Alastor responds, his tone laced with a sickening mixture of affection and possessiveness. "But if you aren't punished, you might get that stupid idea of trying to leave me in that pretty little head of yours. And we can't have that again, now can we?"

Alastor moves quickly, his movements fluid yet unsettlingly precise. With a swift motion, he shoves your dress over your hips, the fabric bunching around your waist. You gasp in shock and protest, but before you can utter a word, his clawed finger slashes through your panties, cutting them away with a cruel efficiency.

His dark chuckle cuts through the air like a blade through silence. "Bad girls don't get any foreplay," he growls, his voice dripping with malice as he works at his pants, freeing his cock. With grace, he positions himself at your unprepared entrance.

"I'm sorry, Alastor! Please, just stop," you plead, desperation lacing your voice as tears stream down your face. You know there's nothing you can do to halt his actions, trapped and powerless against him.

Your scream rips through the air like a haunting melody as Alastor mercilessly shoves his entire length inside of you, setting a brutal pace that leaves you gasping for breath. Each thrust is accompanied by a symphony of pain and desperation, your pleas falling on deaf ears as he revels in your suffering. Alastor savors the sound of your cries, finding perverse pleasure in the symphony of agony echoing through the forest.

One of his hands snakes around to rub your clit, sending a jolt of unexpected pleasure coursing through your body. Your muscles tense and spasm in response to the new sensation, but the relentless grip of the tendrils keeps you firmly anchored to the forest floor, rendering you utterly helpless against Alastor's desires. He continues his assault, relishing in the control he exerts over your body and mind.

As the realization sinks in, a cold dread settles in the pit of your stomach. You understand now that there's no escape from his grasp, no reprieve from his twisted desires. In that moment, it becomes painfully clear: you belong to him, body and soul, for eternity. Alastor has ensured that you'll never forget your place, sealing your fate with every merciless thrust and cruel manipulation. You are his forever, and he delights in reminding you of that fact.

You can never escape.

He leans in close, his hot breath tickling your ear as he whispers with a cruel intimacy, "Are you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?" With renewed vigor, he increases the speed and pressure on your clit, driving you to the brink of ecstasy even as tears streak down your face, overwhelmed by the conflicting sensations coursing through your body.

As you came around Alastor's cock, he resumes his brutal pace. His claws dig into your hips, leaving marks of possession as he relentlessly chases his own release. With a guttural groan, you feel him twitch inside you, his hot seed spilling deep within, painting your walls white with his essence.

"Now then, have you learned your lesson, love?" Alastor's voice cuts through the haze of pain and confusion, his tone dripping with smug satisfaction. Gradually, you feel the tendrils loosen their grip around you, allowing you to collapse onto the forest floor, your body trembling with exhaustion and sobs wracking your frame.

"Y-yes," you manage to whisper weakly, your voice barely audible amidst the turmoil of emotions raging within you.

"Lovely~. Now get yourself cleaned up! We have reservations tonight!" His words, almost sickeningly cheerful, echo in your ears as he strides away, leaving you alone in the cold darkness of the forest. As you lay there, broken and defeated, you can't help but reconsider everything—your choices, your worth, and the twisted dynamic that binds you to him in ways you never imagined possible.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #fanfic #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x y/n #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin x reader #tw noncon #yandere #yandere alastor #x reader #fem reader #reader insert

[starrierknight]

𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

"O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!" — William Shakespeare, via Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 7k

pairing— cruel!dom!gn!reader x true form!sub!sukuna

cws/tags— painplay, cbt (ball busting), doubled dicked sukuna, S&M, dumbification, humiliation, subspace, heavy degradation, size kink, voice kink, mutual masturbation, reader is AFAB, handjob, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia, petnames: for reader “fool” & “brat” + for sukuna “slut” & “loser” & “freak” & “sicko”, porn w/ crack fic plot

Sukuna’s domain was far from inviting, a stark contrast to anything one might deem ‘homey’.

As you surveyed the colossal cavern, its vastness resembling that of a grand cathedral, the support structure caught your eye—towering bone columns replaced the conventional pillars. The entire space, from the ground up to the ceiling, was a macabre creation of bones. The ceiling itself resembled a grotesquely cracked ribcage, a grim reminder of its origins. While some bones were discernibly human, others appeared to belong to unknown and enigmatic creatures, transcending the boundaries of what you had ever witnessed before. The bizarre collection of bones lent an exceptionally eerie ambience, heightened by a peculiar, reddish glow emanating from an indiscernible light source. 

At the heart of this bone-laden spectacle stood a towering monument, a colossal mound of bones sculpted into a surreal structure. Ascending the mound was a staircase fashioned from bones, leading to a throne unlike any other—an imposing seat, constructed entirely from an assembly of human remains, awaited at the pinnacle.

Perched upon that ominous throne was Sukuna, the embodiment of malevolence—the King of Curses—displaying his intimidating presence in all its grim grandeur. Even from your vantage point, peering up at him from a considerable distance, he appeared colossal. His physique was a testament to sheer power and artistry, meticulously sculpted and adorned with bulging muscles that defied belief. Four massive, sinewy arms extended from his formidable frame, possessing an awe-inspiring strength capable of pulverising titanium into mere dust with a mere flex of their might.

It’s a shame you weren’t a sorcerer who knew what and who he was.

Summoning your courage, you cleared your throat and shouted up to him, the question cutting through the eerie atmosphere, “Where am I and who the fuck are you?”

Sukuna’s laughter, a deep and menacing boom, resonated through the expansive domain, causing the very walls to tremble and the unsettling echoes to pierce your soul.

"Ignorant fool," he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You dare address me in such a manner?"

You winced, hastily clapping your hands over your ears. "Could you please lower your volume?"

His laughter, a bone-chilling symphony, echoed once more, causing the ground to quiver. "Is this too much for your feeble mortal ears? Come and face me."

His words felt like an intrusive melody, echoing in your mind, a haunting tune you wished to escape.

Surveying the daunting mountain of bones and the seemingly endless staircase leading to his throne, you hesitated. "Uh, no thanks. It's quite a lengthy walk."

Your ears strained as Sukuna mumbled something indecipherable. There was a pause.

"Come and face me!" he thundered suddenly.

"What did I say about the volume?" you snapped.

"Face me!"

"Lower your voice!"

"Come and face me-"

"Can you just tell me where I am!" you yelled back, frustration boiling over.

A groan escaped your lips as you walked towards the edge of the bone mountain, adamant about not getting any closer or ascending those foreboding stairs. Rolling your eyes, you lashed out, sending a nearby skull skittering across the cavernous expanse, its hollow clatter echoing off the walls as it bounced and rolled.

Surveying your surroundings, you tried to fathom where you were and who this exceptionally bossy man-thing-monster could be.

It felt like mere moments ago you were in the familiarity of your home, and then, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in this eerie place.

Curiosity mingled with the morbid as you picked up a human skull, studying it intently. Before you could react, Sukuna materialised beside you, his massive clawed hands snatching the skull from your grasp. His cold, calculating gaze bore into you, accentuated by a sly grin that danced across his face.

"Mine," he growled possessively.

Startled, you instinctively recoiled from his sudden presence. "Fucking hell! You almost gave me a heart attack."

He prepared to unleash another booming laugh, but the sight of your unimpressed expression made him hesitate, his smug demeanour faltering momentarily.

Clearing his throat, he began, "You, little human, find yourself within my domain."

You snorted, glancing around the eerie expanse once more. "Right. Perfect. Fantastic. That just clears it all up, then."

"I am Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, the mightiest sorcerer of the Heian era, and soon to be your adversary," he declared.

"Oh, joy.”

You took a cautious step back, hands on your hips as you observed Sukuna's monstrous presence from this closer vantage point. His colossal, imposing form bore an unexpected juxtaposition of delicate black line tattoos, intricately strewn across his muscled physique. On each of his four wrists and biceps, ominous black rings encircled the powerful limbs, adding to the aura of menace.

Sukuna's facial features were strikingly sharp and angular, marked by prominent cheekbones and a menacing, chiselled jawline. His teeth gleamed razor-sharp, exposed in a malicious grin that laid bare his brutal nature. One half of his face retained a more distinguishable humanoid appearance, while the other bore a chaotic tapestry of marred skin resembling the gnarled bark of an ancient, scarred tree. His hands and fingers culminated in sharp black claws, a testament to his deadly prowess.

Atop his head, Sukuna wore a sinister crown of twisted, horn-like protrusions, accentuating his demonic countenance. These menacing horns symbolised his dominion over curses, solidifying his reign as the dreaded King of Curses—or so you guessed.

You whistled, gesturing toward his crown. "Seems a bit on the nose, doesn't it?"

Sukuna laughed, a deep and rich sound that carried a hint of warmth compared to his earlier booming demeanour. "It does the job, brat."

Rolling your eyes, you strolled away from him, your curiosity now fixated on the mountain of bones, which you began to inspect more closely, prodding them with the toe of your shoe. "So, why am I here, exactly?"

"I summoned you," Sukuna replied.

"Right. Why me?"

Sukuna chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself. Any human would have sufficed, it just happened to be you."

You let out a heavy sigh. "Were you bored or something?"

Sukuna's multiple scarlet eyes flickered with curiosity, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Indeed, I was."

"It's a bit... How should I put this?" you mused, glancing from the bones comprising his throne to those forming the ceiling and scattered across the ground. "It's a tad grim in here."

Sukuna suppressed a laugh, glancing at the skull in his hand that he had snatched from you earlier, rolling it between two of his hands before effortlessly crushing it to dust, akin to an aluminium can. "I don't see an issue with it."

"I imagine you quite like it... These aren't just your Halloween decorations, are they?" you remarked dryly.

"These are my trophies," Sukuna boasted.

 "Of course they are," you snorted. “You couldn’t have gone for Jack-O-lanterns? Black cats? Maybe a ghost or two? Or, I guess you have that covered… Thoughts?”

Sukuna's scowl deepened as he admonished you, "You should show more respect, human. I could kill you."

Undeterred, you crouched down and sifted through the masses of bones from the mountain, selecting another human skull. "So could most things."

"I beg your pardon—"

"Then beg. So could most things," you reiterated, standing up and inspecting the skull in your hands.

You began your ascent up the mountain of skulls, following the staircase that led to Sukuna's throne. Oblivious to Sukuna's growing bemusement and irritation, you oh-so-casually handled the human remains, displaying a level of disrespect that both puzzled and irked him. He couldn't fathom why he hadn't ended you like he had done with countless others. What was it about you that piqued his interest?

In a trance-like state, Sukuna remained fixated on you, watching intently as you climbed the staircase. Every detail about you seemed to captivate him, from the count of individual hairs on your head to the rhythm of your breaths, even the lingering scent of shampoo that trailed in your wake—the scent he inhaled hungrily.

The bones of the staircase crunched under your shoes as you ascended, the sound echoing through the cavern. However, you paid it no mind, your determination driving you forward.

A light chuckle escaped Sukuna's lips as he observed you casually taking a seat on his formidable throne. The audacity and nonchalance you displayed amused him greatly. Your courage was evident, and it only added to your intrigue. He wondered if this confidence extended to various other aspects of your life…

Languidly sprawled across his throne, you directed your attention to the aged, cracked skull in your hand, and spoke:

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow

Of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."

"Why are you reciting Shakespeare? Just to annoy me or because I'm the only one you can talk to, since the others are dead?" he remarked.

Sukuna leisurely ascended the steps, watching you with an intrigued expression.

You let out a sigh and casually tossed the skull over your shoulder, the clattering sound echoing as it rolled down the mountain of bones. "What else am I supposed to do here? It's awfully dull, isn't it?"

Sukuna tilted his head, scowling deeply as he stalked closer. Was this human calling his domain dull? He felt something stir within him...

"I'll have you know," he retorted, "I work diligently to maintain this domain."

"By collecting skeletons and sitting on your ass all day?" you snickered, unimpressed.

"That... That isn't all that I do," Sukuna defended, his arms crossed, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't shake off the annoyance of you finding his domain unimpressive.

"I had to defeat plenty of foes to obtain these skulls and bones. I've worked tirelessly for this throne," he asserted.

You sighed as you stretched out lazily on his throne, making yourself at home. "I'll give you that. It's a comfortable seat."

Annoyance surged within Sukuna. How dare you touch his throne, let alone stretch out on it? You were blatantly taunting him with your actions, and he couldn't stand for it. His lip curled in a manner it never had before, his face twisted in evident disgust as he approached you, extending his clawed hands, pointing and clicking with a sinister smirk.

"Move."

You kissed your teeth, a sardonic expression on your face. "Where are your manners? Say please."

Sukuna froze, caught off guard by your audacious response. Did you just instruct him to say please? Did you dare to instruct the King of Curses? His eyes widened in disbelief, grappling with your boldness. He couldn't decipher if this was pure defiance or merely a game to toy with him. Regardless, he found your tone intriguing—albeit unsettling.

You arched an eyebrow, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips.

Unaccustomed to such defiance, Sukuna felt a mix of surprise and annoyance. No one had ever dared to challenge him like this. He stared at you, his cold and calculating demeanour returning to his face.

"Move, fool!" he thundered, his voice resonating through the cavern, causing bones to tremble beneath and around you.

“Say please.”

Sukuna's unmarred eyes twitched with a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he found himself strangely drawn to your unyielding nature.

"Please move out of my throne. Now," he growled, struggling to maintain his composure.

You responded with a hum, your smile curiously enchanting. "Get on your knees and say it."

Sukuna was stunned, his disbelief evident. You were undoubtedly toying with him. He couldn't believe how this exchange was making him feel, his heart quickening and an unfamiliar warmth tingling in his cheeks.

For a moment, he hesitated, then, with a smirk that couldn't be suppressed, he lowered himself to his knees before you. His gaze remained locked on you as you continued to lounge in his throne—like it was made for you.

"Now say please. Say it like you mean it," you persisted.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and reluctantly obliged, allowing a flicker of annoyance to colour his voice. "Please. Move out of my throne."

The smirk on his face undermined the attempt to convey genuine sincerity.

Your eyes narrowed, determined. “Like you mean it.”

He grunted, attempting to strike a balance between irritation and compliance. "Please. Move out of my throne."

There was a faint trace of politeness in his tone, but the insincerity was evident. The reason behind your insistence puzzled him. He couldn't comprehend why you were fixated on this request.

"Why are you being so persistent?"

"Shut up. Don't question me. Say please."

He scoffed, feigning annoyance. "Fine, fine, fine."

Though the act didn't genuinely bother him, Sukuna was growing increasingly intrigued about the reason behind your persistence. He had a sneaking suspicion that your desire for him to say "please" went beyond just his tone. This conversation was taking an unexpected turn, one he hadn't anticipated.

"Won’t you please move out of my throne?" he asked, this time with genuine sincerity laced into his words.

"Keep saying please," you grinned mischievously at him, eyes alight with amusement.

This was spiralling into uncharted territory. Sukuna could feel the warmth creeping up his cheeks as he realised what you were trying to make him do. Despite the unexpected turn of events, he found himself oddly willing to comply, feeling a strange sense of euphoria from the experience.

"Please. Please move-"

"No, no. Just say 'please'. Just that. Keep saying it," you drawled.

Sukuna was momentarily left speechless, captivated by the peculiar request. The amusement in the situation wasn't lost on him, and he found himself enjoying this unexpected exchange.

"Please…!"

He began to repeat the word, his voice growing louder and more resolute with each iteration. The cavern echoed with the booming sound, filled with an unusual conviction. Throughout the exchange, his eyes remained locked onto yours, fixated on something he had never known he could feel—curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.

"That's better," you gently interrupted, your voice inviting softness.

Sukuna paused, considering you. It seemed you wanted him to alter not just his words, but also his demeanour—to become soft and sweet, a far cry from his usual cold, commanding self. He cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Please..."

His voice, now gentle and honey-like, carried a richness and warmth that sharply contrasted with his typical cold and authoritative tone. He spoke with an awkward tenderness, like his vocal chords had not been designed for it.

Your eyes sparkled with approval. "Good... Keep saying it like that." 

Surprised by your approval, Sukuna found himself unexpectedly pleased with how this situation had evolved. The King of Curses adjusted his posture as he knelt before you, accommodating his massive frame for a more comfortable position.

Continuing to repeat the word in that soft, sweet tone, thoroughly enthralled by the unusual turn of events. He couldn't help but wonder why he felt so oddly giddy. This exchange was intriguing, and he found your request strangely alluring.

You hummed thoughtfully and shifted your sitting position on his throne, adjusting to your comfort. A subtle, anticipatory tension hung in the air as you rubbed your thighs together, biting your bottom lip, your gaze fixed on him as he knelt and spoke in that gentle, pleading tone. Sukuna couldn't deny the unique excitement that surged within him.

Sukuna couldn't help but notice the seductive movements of your body, a provocative display that stirred a new sensation within him. He gulped nervously, feeling a newfound exhilaration as he continued to utter that soft word:

"Please... Please... Please…"

The way you looked down at him, your gaze ravenous and hungry, sent shivers down his spine. It was a gaze that suggested desire, an eagerness to consume him whole. Sukuna was gradually comprehending the appeal of this scenario and the feelings it evoked—feelings he had never experienced before.

He found himself oddly pleased by the way you stared at him, as if he were your prey. The sensation was foreign but undeniably enticing. He couldn't quite grasp why this was turning him on, if that was indeed what he was feeling. It was an uncharted territory for him, and you were leading him into the depths of this unexplored realm.

Your face lit up with amusement, and your legs rubbed together in a teasing motion. It was evident that you were toying with him, revelling in the effect you were having on him. Sukuna felt the flush of heat creeping up his neck, a telltale sign of his growing arousal. This was a sensation he had never associated with himself, yet it was undeniable—he was beginning to enjoy this, a lot.

The King of Curses continued to plead sweetly, a rush of euphoria surging through him, a tempest of desires that he was just beginning to grasp.

You tugged at your clothes and spread your legs, exposing yourself to him as you sat on his throne. You licked your fingers and dipped them between your thighs, rubbing yourself as you listened to him begging.

All his eyes were glued to the way your fingers teased your cunt, tracing its perimeter but never quite touching yourself were he would have touch you. If it were him, he would have buried his face between your legs, not teasing, but devouring. He licked his lips, zoning in on the slick of your arousal that glisted on your folds—meaning that him begging had turned you on, maybe even more than it did him. So, that was your game, was it?

The audacity of your actions left Sukuna in a state of disbelief. The line between desire and humiliation blurred as you pushed the boundaries, challenging his self-control. It was an internal struggle for Sukuna—his centuries-old pride warring with this intoxicating, uncharted desire.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he grappled with the unexpected arousal that coursed through his veins. The sight of you, unabashed and bold, combined with the teasing laughter in your voice, fueled the flames of his arousal.

His voice, hoarse and shaky, struggled to keep up with the torrent of emotions. The word "please" fell from his lips in a desperate plea, almost a mantra, amplifying the tension in the room.

"Sukuna, you're hard as a rock," you pointed out, the truth of your words ringing through the air.

Your laughter, rich and playful, reverberated through the chamber, filling the room with an infectious energy. It was a stark contrast to the typically stoic and fearsome King of Curses. Sukuna couldn't help but feel a surge of humiliation mixed with fascination at his own arousal.

With your teasing remark, Sukuna's gaze reluctantly shifted downward, his eyes widening as he acknowledged the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Under the baggy cloth of his trousers, he was indeed hard as a rock, a physical response to the alluring power you held over him. He could feel both of his cocks throbbing with heat, twitching in their confines. The arousal was a foreign sensation, and the fact that you were the cause of it left him both bewildered and intrigued.

In this moment, Sukuna found himself ensnared in a paradox—humiliated by his vulnerability yet undeniably enticed by the forbidden, his instincts torn between the desire to assert his dominance and the intoxicating allure of surrendering to this new experience—to surrendering to you.

He had never felt so vulnerable, so at the mercy of his own desires.

The small, involuntary moan that escaped his lips startled him, a clear indicator of just how much you had unravelled him. How embarrassing.

His voice, once firm and commanding, now wavered with need and desperation as he continued to plead. The word "please" took on a new tone, a raw and needy edge. He was no longer the dominant King of Curses; he was a man lost.

Despite this vulnerability, Sukuna couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of the moment. He wanted to hold onto this feeling, this new vulnerability that both embarrassed and enticed him. It was a struggle to admit that he craved this, that he wanted more, that he wanted you to keep pushing him into this unexplored realm. The word "please" became a whisper, an admission of his desire, a plea for the unknown to continue.

"Hey, Sukuna? Why don't you touch yourself, hm?" you mused in a breathy voice.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me. Do as you're told."

Sukuna's breath hitched at your words, the unexpected request sending a surge of heat through his veins. It was a daring proposition, one that caught him off guard, yet the enticing tone of your voice pushed his desire higher. He was torn between the embarrassment of this unfamiliar vulnerability and the overpowering need to submit to your words.

He hesitated, struggling to reconcile his pride with the intoxicating allure of your command. Touching himself was an act he had never considered, a realm he had never ventured into. But the pull of your dominance was too strong to resist.

Summoning his willpower, he shifted slightly, his hands inching towards himself. The air was charged with anticipation as he grappled with the embarrassment and excitement that warred within him. He swallowed hard.

"Say please," he challenged.

Sukuna's challenge was met with amusement in your eyes, your laughter echoing through the chamber. He couldn't help but feel a rush of frustration and fascination at your commanding presence. How had a mere human managed to exert such control over the King of Curses?

"Oh, come on. Look at yourself. I'm sitting on your throne getting off with you kneeling before me, begging. Do as you're told."

Your words, dripping with confidence and authority, sent a surge of heat to his cheeks. His own pride clashed with the intoxicating allure of your dominance. The way you spoke to him, the way you commanded him—it was undeniably hot, a sensation he was both frustrated and intrigued by.

The word "please" left his lips almost like a whine, a testament to the power you held over him. His gaze remained locked on yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration, vulnerability, and longing. You were indeed torturing him.

"Be good for me, and touch yourself,” you said in a dangerous whisper as you rubbed yourself. 

You dipped a finger inside yourself and moaned, a lazy smile on your face. You bucked into your hand as you touched yourself on his throne, putting on a show for him. His mouth watered as he pictured how it must feel inside you—slick and warm and tight—and God, what he wouldn’t give to feel it for himself.

Sukuna was both infuriated and captivated by your brazen display The way you moaned and smiled lazily, openly touching yourself, was a challenge to his self-control. But he was compelled to obey, to succumb to your desires and the intoxicating dominance you wielded.

He followed your command, tugging down his trousers and exposing himself to your gaze. His hands, large and powerful, hesitantly moved to touch himself, fingers grazing over his arousal.

His huge, domineering hands wrapped around his cocks, stroking the lengths of them and he gasped. Why was this more intense than any battle? A better thrill than killing? He bit hit lip, eyes drawn to and fascinated by his own body’s reaction to you and how milky white pre drooled down from his slits. How, with every stroke of his hands, his back archer and he bucked into his own touch.

His eyes fluttered shut as he grappled with this new experience, letting himself be consumed by the heady mix of desire and submission. The act was both mortifying and exhilarating, and all the while, he was acutely aware of your eyes on him, your presence commanding and beguiling.

He couldn't believe that all of this was coming from your voice. His eyes were glued to between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued to touch himself. Your own hungry eyes latched onto both of his huge, aching dicks as he played with himself. Everything about Sukuna was overwhelming, from his power to his body to his lust. You found yourself admitting to your own curiosity as you drank in the sight of them; The sight of them dripping and flushed and how almost swollen his balls looked with cum that hand’t been released.

Your moans and groans seemed to echo in unison, creating a symphony of desire that filled the chamber. Sukuna was increasingly lost in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him. The word "please" left his lips in a chorus of longing, each repetition pushing him deeper into submission.

His focus had shifted entirely, the initial intent of getting you off his throne fading into obscurity. His gaze remained fixed on your intimate display, his arousal building with every touch and sound that emanated from both of you. The control you held over him was both infuriating and irresistible, a feeling he couldn't quite comprehend but was unwilling to resist. As the moments passed, he found himself yearning for more, wanting this sensation to continue, to deepen, to consume him entirely.

The clash between his innate desire for power and this newfound intoxicating submission was tearing at the fabric of his being. The strength he prided himself on was now overshadowed by a longing to surrender to your every command.

Your moans were like a siren's call, drawing him deeper into the realm of obedience and desire. He felt a vulnerability he had never known, as if his very essence was being reshaped. He wanted to rebel, to assert his dominance, but your dominion over him was undeniable. Each moan you released seemed to pierce through his defences, leaving him trembling and on the verge of shattering—a cold bullet to his cursed, beating heart.

His breath was uneven, his voice cracking with need as he continued to repeat the word "please". It was a punishment he secretly craved, an experience that left him teetering on the edge, yearning for more of this torment.

"You should see yourself, Sukuna. Kneeling before me and touching yourself so desperately... Poor thing. I almost feel bad for you," you moaned.

Your words washed over Sukuna like a tidal wave, a symphony of desire and humiliation that left him gasping for breath. The sharp pain in his chest only served to intensify the sensations that coursed through him. The way you continued to toy with him, to humiliate him, sent shivers of both pleasure and torment down his spine. It left him feeling both broken and intoxicated, aching for the next command, the next word that would bind him even further to your will.

"Go on. Tell me how pathetic you are."

The admission felt like a double-edged sword, cutting through Sukuna's pride and ego, yet at the same time igniting a fire within him. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and he was both repelled and drawn to this feeling. His voice trembled with shame and arousal as he echoed the words you demanded of him.

"I'm pathetic... You're so much better than me... I'm so pathetic..."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his humiliation. He was laying bare his weaknesses, succumbing to the reality of his own desires. Each syllable was a confession that he wanted more, even if it hurt.

You laughed at him. "Aw, I bet you wish I was touching you, hm?"

The shame was palpable, like a physical weight on his shoulders. Each word was like a punch to his ego, yet he couldn't stop himself.

"I wish you were touching me… Yes… I'm that pathetic…"

His admission was barely a whisper, laced with both humiliation and a strange sense of longing. He wanted to resist, to regain control, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand. The battle between his pride and desire raged within him, and right now, desire was winning. The shame was a peculiar thrill.

"I bet you want me to touch so badly that you don't even care if it hurts, right?"

It was an unfamiliar yearning for pain. He had spent centuries as a powerful being, feared and revered, but now he was willingly surrendering to a mere human.

"Yes... I don't care if it hurts. Please... Please hurt me..."

You gracefully rose from his throne, fingers languidly snapping in front of Sukuna's face, a signal for him to rise to his feet. He complied with your command, a sudden flood of emotions rushing through his body. Every nerve seemed to tremble with a blend of obedience and desire, eagerly awaiting your touch.

As you stepped closer, your hands gently found their place on his chest, tracing the contours of his overpowering muscles. "D'you like that?" you murmured softly, your words a tender caress.

His breath hitched, caught in his throat, eyes locked onto yours as your fingers danced across his chest. His muscles quivered in response to your gentle exploration, every moment an intoxicating revelation. Your touch, so light yet electrifying, made him acutely aware of his own body. The tingling sensation of your fingers on his skin sent shivers down his spine, making his breath hitch.

"Y-Yes... I do. It feels... Exquisite," he managed to stammer, his voice cracking under the weight of your gaze.

"You're so sensitive," you observed, your touch leaving a trail of fire wherever your fingers danced. "I wonder how you'd react if I hurt you," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of curiosity and a dark sort of delight. "Would you still be begging for it?"

His pride warred with his newfound craving, but the latter was undeniable. "Please... I want more," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He was at your mercy, a feeling that both terrified and thrilled him.

Without hesitation, you kneed him in the crotch, hitting both of his cocks square on.

It was an instantaneous, electric shock of agony that seared through his nerves, leaving him momentarily paralyzed as the intensity of the pain overwhelms his senses. He dropped to his knees with a thump, gasping.

The pain was sharp and stabbing, radiating from the point of impact like a wildfire. As if every nerve ending in the area was set ablaze, sending distress signals to his brain at an alarming speed. Sukuna’s body instinctively recoiled, attempting to protect the vulnerable region, but the pain persisted, gnawing at his insides. The pain didn't limit itself to the immediate area of impact; it radiated outward, affecting his entire abdomen, lower back, and even his thighs.

With each passing second, the pain intensified, reaching a peak where it feels like an all-consuming force, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Breathing becomes shallow and laboured, and waves of nausea washing over him, threatening to push him to the edge of consciousness.

His entire existence was shattered because of you.

"P-Please stop…!"

Sukuna writhed in agony. The once-proud King of Curses now knelt before you, completely vulnerable and at your mercy. His pleas for you to stop were desperate, and he trembled with the intensity of the pain that coursed through his body.

But you weren't done. You wanted to test the limits of his submission, to see just how far he would go for this new, twisted pleasure that bound him to you. Your hand reached out, fingers gently tracing the lines of his face before cupping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

You laughed at Sukuna and placed your foot on his shoulder, pushing him down so he was laying flat on his back. Sukuna had never imagined he would be brought to such a state, submitting to the will of a human. He was at your mercy, and you were showing him no mercy at all. The proud King of Curses had been reduced to a whimpering, pained creature under your command.

He could only look up at you with desperate eyes, unable to fight back or retaliate. The pain was excruciating, and all he wanted was for it to end.

Tears welled in his eyes, a mixture of both pain and humiliation. "Please... I'm sorry... Please, have mercy..." he choked out, his voice barely audible through the suffering.

As the pain continued, he was losing his mind. He couldn't understand how he had let things go this far. He was so embarrassed by the fact that he asked you to hurt him. He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He wanted to please you, but at what cost?

"P-please! I want it to stop…!"

"No, you don't. You're sick and disgusting, and you want this."

Another wave of agony washed over Sukuna as you kicked him in the crotch again, making his dicks twitch and drool. He cried out in sheer pain, his voice echoing through the chamber. Tears streamed down his face as he lay there, completely defeated and humiliated.

You were right. He had begged for this, and now he was paying the price for his own desires. His body trembled as he tried to cope with the searing pain coursing through him.

"S-Sick... Disgusting..." he repeated your words, the humiliation sinking deeper. 

Each kick was like a dagger to Sukuna's abdomen, the pain intensifying with every strike. He could barely think straight, his mind consumed by the overwhelming torment coursing through him. He tried to beg for mercy, to make it stop, but his pleas were only met with further mockery and pain.

"P-please... It hurts... It hurts so—”

"It hurts! It hurts!" you mocked in a high pitched voice, giving him another kick.

The pain was unbearable. It was like a searing fire coursing through him, blurring his vision and numbing his mind. Each kick felt like a brutal reminder of his vulnerability and how he had let himself be reduced to this pitiful state. He tried to form words, to beg for mercy, but all that came out were incoherent cries of anguish. He had lost any semblance of control, reduced to nothing but a whimpering wreck at your feet.

Yet, in the darkest depths of his agony, a part of him was still ashamed of the desperate need for this torment, the twisted satisfaction it gave him despite the pain. He was a curse, a King of Curses, and yet he was being broken by a human. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Stop... Please... Just stop," he managed to croak out, tears mingling with his pain.

The relentless assault left him gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. He was trapped in a never-ending cycle of agony and humiliation, and there was no escape. Sukuna had never felt so out of control in his existence. He was begging you to stop, begging you to keep going.

You flashed a mischievous grin and ceased your playful kicking. With an enticing sway, you straddled his waist, your back turned to him. Slowly, you traced the delicate path of your nails, tantalisingly dragging them up the expanse of his powerful thighs. 

"How's this?" you purred, your voice dripping with seduction.

"Ah... Ah...! H-it's... M-mmh!" His thoughts felt scrambled as he couldn't think anymore.

Your touch sent waves of ecstasy through him. His body quivered in response to the electrifying sensation of your nails tracing his thighs. Each deliberate drag felt like a surge of electric pleasure, setting his lower body ablaze with delightful twitches and shivers that seemed to course through his entire being.

"What was that? I didn't hear you," you taunted playfully.

He struggled to form a coherent response to your taunt. The sensitivity was overwhelming, and every movement you made felt like a magnificent burst of fireworks throughout his body. Every fibre of his being was trembling, and all he could manage was a desperate whimper.

"M-mmh... Ah! It feels... Ah!" he gasped.

"Pardon?" you chimed, feigning innocence.

As if the intensity wasn't already overwhelming, you chose that moment to pinch him, rolling the skin of his ballsack between your fingers, causing a sharp wave of pain to shoot through his entire being. The pain was searing, making his body contort, but paradoxically, there was an undeniable undercurrent of pleasure. The sensation of the pinch pushed him closer to the edge, and a growing feeling of heat surged within him.

"Ah!"

"You're close, aren't you?"

A deep blush now coloured his cheeks, an undeniable testament to his arousal. He couldn't deny it any longer—being pinched in such a way ignited an intense mixture of sensations within him. The pain, sharp and intense, coexisted with an overwhelming pleasure that seemed to radiate through every fibre of his being.

"Y-yes... I'm close... I-"

Sukuna's body jerked and tensed as a slap of your hand sent waves of pain and pleasure coursing through him, making his cocks sway in the air pitifully. Your taunts only fueled the fire within him, igniting a longing he couldn't deny. He was a king, but in this moment, he was at your mercy, and a part of him relished in the vulnerability of it all.

He couldn't bring himself to respond, the sensations rendering him speechless, his breathing erratic, and his body trembling under your touch and words.

"Yeah? You like that, don't you? Freak."

His moans were desperate, an involuntary response to the storm of sensations assaulting him. The mixture of pleasure and pain had him teetering on the edge of ecstasy and torment. It was a chaotic dance, and he was the unwilling participant, pulled in every direction by the whims of this strange, sadistic human being.

"You're such a loser."

As Sukuna struggled to regain control, a voice in his head told him that this wasn't over yet, that the storm was far from calming. And he knew, deep down, that he wanted to experience whatever came next, no matter how twisted or dark it might be. He was so close… He could feel it. He couldn't help but admit that he was a loser. He was getting off to this… 

"You're a loser. A freak. A sicko. It's disgusting and perverted. You're so gross."

He was moaning loudly, and he was shaking in a way he could not control. "You deserve this."

"S-Yes... I-I deserve it! Please…! ‘M a loser! I’m disgusting! I deserve this!"

The words were tumbling out of his mouth, but he couldn't stop now. Every feeling you were giving him continued to push him towards paradise.

He had unlocked a hidden aspect of himself, one that craved the twisted pleasure that came from this dark encounter. The way he responded, eagerly admitting his worthlessness and desire for punishment, only fueled the fire within you.

"You're such a pathetic, filthy creature," you hissed, punctuating your words with another slap to his crotch, making him shudder and cry out.

Sukuna's moans grew louder, and he writhed beneath you, completely at your mercy. The pain, the humiliation, the pleasure—it was all merging into a chaotic symphony of sensations that threatened to consume him whole. He was nodding his head in agreement to your words. He didn't deserve more than the punishment you were giving him. He was pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

And then it hit him. 

As his body convulsed and trembled, he felt the flood of emotions he had never allowed himself to experience before. The boundaries he had erected around his desires and vulnerabilities were crumbling, and he was exposed, raw, and consumed by the overpowering intensity of the moment. Sukuna's silent scream echoed in his mind, his eyes rolling back into his head as tears fell and streaked his face, snot dripping from his snivelling nose, drool seeping from his mouth with his tongue lolled out.

He came everywhere, ropes upon ropes of cum spurting from his cocks, thick and oozing and staining your hands and his flushed skin. His ambodmen flexed and trembled as he came, and his thighs rubbed together, veins bulging. Your hands left his balls and wrapped around each length, stroking and pumping out every last drop as he writhed and bucked into your touch. You marvellevd at the sheer amount of mess he could make as it clung to your fingers and slicked up your palms with each stoke.

Sukuna's claws dug into the ground, leaving deep gouges in the bone flooring as he sought some form of grounding in the midst of this tumultuous experience. The pain and pleasure had taken him to the brink of his own understanding, and his body's response was primal, uncontrolled, and desperate. He was no longer the composed and collected King of Curses but a mindless creature enslaved to pleasure, and enslaved to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, a triumphant grin dancing across your lips as you gazed down. "What are you, Sukuna?"

He could only drool and babble incoherently, his body squirming and writhing in response to the overwhelming sensations. The once-mighty King of Curses had been reduced to a quivering mess, incapable of forming a coherent reply. As you observed him, the power you held over him was undeniably evident, but it left you somewhat exasperated. You had expected more of a challenge from the formidable King of Curses, yet he had proven to be surprisingly vulnerable when faced with his own desires.

You paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in, and then decided to finish the sentence yourself. "Nothing. You are nothing to me," you declared, the words dripping with finality.

In that instant, Sukuna's eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions—humiliation, anger, and a hint of something resembling realisation. The reality of his vulnerability stung, and the acknowledgement of his insignificance cut deeper than any physical pain ever could. 

Nothing. 

Nothing.

a/n: this was written with spite. revenge for chapter 236. bitch. and yes, you will be exposed to silly little literature quotes n references. i will force feed you intertextuality. hugs n kisses to @lunerabo for some of the dialogue hehe. Happy Kinktober!!! :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees #꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume #꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23 #sub ryomen sukuna #sub sukuna x reader #sub sukuna x reader smut #sub ryomen sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader smut

[twistiraki]

🎀The Twisted Wonderland housewardens save you from your bullies 🎀

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗ TᗯIᔕTEᗪ ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇᒪᗩᑎᗪ Characters Riddle, Leona, Azul, Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus x F!Reader Warnings bullying ‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

The cold, oppressive atmosphere of Night Raven College bore witness to the relentless cruelty inflicted upon Y/n by the three Savanaclaw students. They were a toxic trio, reveling in the sadistic pleasure of tormenting the lone soul who dared to be different.

In the shadows of the twisting corridors, the bullies cornered Y/n with malevolent grins and whispered taunts. "Look who we have here, the little misfit," sneered one of them, his words dripping with disdain.

Y/n, a stoic figure determined to withstand the onslaught, clenched her teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing her crack. The leader of the tormentors, a sinister figure with a twisted smile, circled her like a predator closing in on its prey.

"What's the matter, Y/n? Cat got your tongue?" another jeered, causing the trio to burst into mocking laughter. The echoes of their cruelty resonated through the desolate halls, amplifying Y/n's isolation.

Their torment wasn't limited to words alone; the bullies seized every opportunity to strip Y/n of her dignity. One day, they snatched her bag, rifling through its contents like scavengers pillaging a carcass. They tossed her belongings carelessly on the cold floor, savoring the sight of her distress.

On another occasion, the trio targeted Y/n during a public event, exploiting the vulnerability of the crowded space. They humiliated her with disparaging remarks, their malicious words cutting through the air like a relentless storm. Y/n, standing alone amidst the sea of indifferent faces, fought back tears, unwilling to grant them the satisfaction of witnessing her vulnerability.

The torment escalated when the bullies, driven by an insidious desire to break her spirit, attempted to steal Y/n's clothing. The malicious intent behind their actions was clear, pushing her to the brink of despair.

In that harrowing moment, as they tugged at the fabric that shielded her from their malicious intent, Y/n's defenses crumbled. The tears she had fought so hard to contain spilled over, marking her surrender to the relentless darkness that engulfed her.

The bullies reveled in their perceived victory, their laughter echoing like a haunting melody. Y/n, now defenseless and broken, sank to her knees, a shattered reflection of the person she used to be.

Yet, as the trio reveled in their malevolence, the distant echo of approaching footsteps disrupted their sadistic revelry… 

The cold corridors of Night Raven College seemed to intensify as the bullies' attention shifted from Y/n to the unexpected intruder, Riddle Rosehearts. The leader of the trio, emboldened by a sense of defiance, sneered, "What's the Heartslabyul housewarden doing, playing the hero? Is this your new pet project, Rosehearts?"

Riddle's stern expression remained steadfast, a protective shield against the barbs directed his way. "I'm enforcing the rules, something you three seem to have forgotten. Now, leave her alone," he retorted, his tone laced with an unyielding edge.

The bullies, undeterred by the stern warning, turned their attention to Riddle, attempting to humiliate him in the same manner they had targeted Y/n. "Maybe Rosehearts has a soft spot for misfits. Or is there something else going on here?" one of them jeered, a malicious glint in their eyes.

Riddle's gaze hardened, but he didn't allow their words to rattle him. Instead, he focused on Y/n, offering her his cape for warmth and comfort. "Ignore them," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm in the aftermath of the storm.

Y/n, still recovering from the emotional turmoil, met Riddle's eyes with a mixture of gratitude and curiosity. "Why are you helping me?" she asked, her vulnerability laid bare.

Riddle hesitated for a moment, his stern exterior cracking to reveal a hint of sincerity. "No one should be treated like that. Besides, it's my duty as the housewarden of Heartslabyul to enforce the rules," he replied, though the subtle inflection in his voice hinted at a deeper, unspoken truth.

As the bullies persisted in their attempts to tarnish Riddle's reputation, he remained resolute. However, the time for words had passed. With a swift and practiced motion, Riddle invoked his unique magic, "Off with your head," causing ethereal sparks to materialize and collar the bullies as a consequence for their actions.

The trio, now restrained by red head’s signature spell, looked to Riddle with shock and fear. He addressed them with an unwavering gaze. "Learn to respect others, or face the consequences," he declared, his authority unshaken.

Turning back to Y/n, Riddle offered a reassuring smile. "You don't have to worry about them anymore. Let me help you and walk you to your dorm," he said, a subtle undertone of warmth in his voice.

Riddle thought to himself that the bullies were right. He did have a soft spot for misfits. In particular this misfit. He had always liked Y/n. As they walked to Y/n’s dorm Riddle tried to hide his face, which was now as red as his hair.  

In the dimly lit corridor, Leona Kingscholar, the formidable housewarden of Savanaclaw, stood between Y/n and her tormentors. The atmosphere crackled with tension as the bullies, momentarily taken aback, decided to redirect their malice towards the imposing figure that stood before them.

"So, the sleepy lion decides to play the hero," one of the bullies sneered, attempting to mask their unease with false bravado.

Leona's emerald eyes narrowed, a low growl escaping his throat as he stared down the trio. "You've got a problem with how I do things?" he challenged, his voice a menacing rumble that reverberated through the corridor.

The bullies, perhaps underestimating the fierce resolve that lay beneath Leona's laid-back demeanor, stepped back. "Why are you protecting her? Got yourself a new little plaything, housewarden?" one of them jeered, a sinister grin stretching across their face.

Leona's expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. "I protect what's under my care. That's all you need to know," he replied, his words carrying an implicit warning that sent shivers down the spines of the tormentors.

Undeterred, the bullies attempted to taunt him further, their words laced with a futile attempt at intimidation. "Maybe you've got a crush on her, huh?" another one jeered.

Leona's growl intensified, his dominant aura radiating an almost tangible threat. "You're pushing your luck, buddy" he warned, his gaze flickering dangerously.

As the tension escalated, Leona stepped forward, looming over the bullies with an imposing stature that left them visibly unsettled. "Consider this your only warning. Cross me again, and you'll regret it," he asserted, his voice cutting through the air like a blade.

The bullies, realizing the gravity of their situation, hastily retreated, their bravado shattered in the face of Leona's unwavering dominance. As they fled the scene, fear etched across their faces, Leona turned his attention back to Y/n.

"You alright?" he asked, the harsh edges of his demeanor softening as he surveyed her. Y/n, still reeling from the confrontation, nodded silently.

Leona, surprising even himself with the depth of his concern, took a step closer. His hand gently cupped Y/n's cheek, his touch surprisingly tender. "I hate to see this pretty face upset," he murmured to himself, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

As the lion helped pick up Y/n’s stuff from the ground, the situation made him angrier and angrier. He’s going to make sure to teach those punks a lesson tomorrow morning during training.”Got yourself a new little plaything?” those words lingering in Leona’s head. Plaything. He scoffs at the idea. Y/n is so much more than that…

In the dimly lit corridors of Night Raven College, the relentless torment aimed at Y/n had attracted the attention of Azul Ashengrotto. As he intervened to protect her, the bullies, recognizing the charismatic housewarden from Octavinelle, shifted their focus to the unexpected adversary.

"Looks like we've got ourselves a hero," one of the bullies scoffed, a malicious glint in his eyes. The leader, emboldened by the presence of a new target, attempted to humiliate Azul. "What's your game, Ashengrotto? Trying to play the savior for this loser?"

Azul's gaze remained unfazed, his smooth composure undeterred. "I suggest you mind your own business," he retorted, his voice carrying a subtle warning. However, the bullies, now fueled by audacity, turned their attention to Y/n once more.

In the face of the renewed onslaught, Azul stepped forward, shielding Y/n with a protective stance. "It seems you're mistaken," he said, directing his attention to Y/n. "This isn't about playing the hero. No one deserves to be treated like this."

The bullies, sensing an unexpected vulnerability in Azul's defense of Y/n, attempted to exploit it. "What's the matter, Ashengrotto? You fancy this loser here?" they sneered, hoping to provoke a reaction.

Azul's gaze flickered, a subtle hint of discomfort betraying his composed exterior. However, he quickly regained his confidence, addressing Y/n with a more reassuring tone. "Don't pay them any mind. Let me take care of this."

Turning back to the bullies, Azul's expression hardened. "You might want to reconsider your actions. I have quite a bit of dirt on both of you, and I'm not afraid to use it. And let's not forget about the Leech Twins—they're always hungry for interesting tidbits."

The mention of the Leech Twins sent a shiver down the bullies' spines, their confidence crumbling in the face of potential repercussions. Sensing their defeat, they slinked away, leaving Azul and Y/n in the now empty corridor.

Azul turned back to Y/n, his usual confidence giving way to a more genuine concern. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice softer now. "Trash like them need people like us to torment, to make themselves feel better.”

Y/n, still reeling from the emotional turmoil, nodded appreciatively. Azul continued to guide her to the Mostro lounge, knowing she will be safe there. His touch was surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the commanding presence he displayed moments ago.

As they navigated the halls together, Azul couldn't help but feel a twinge of awkwardness. He was normally confident and composed, but Y/n's presence seemed to unravel his polished exterior. He knows all too well what it’s like to be treated like that. And the thought that Y/n had to endure the same thing made him want to protect her more. Like a precious pearl he can’t stand to share with anyone.

In the dimly lit corridors of Night Raven College, Kalim Al-Asim's radiant presence cast a warm glow that contrasted with the shadows of cruelty that clung to the bullies tormenting Y/n. As Kalim approached the scene, unaware of the tension, he couldn't fathom the depths of their malicious intent.

"Hey, what's going on here?" Kalim's voice echoed with genuine curiosity, a beacon of positivity in the oppressive atmosphere.

The leader of the bullies sneered, seizing the opportunity to redirect their malevolence. "Well, well, if it isn't the Scarabian sun himself. What's it to you, Kalim? Lost your little guard dog?"

Kalim chuckled, oblivious to their attempts at humiliation. "Nah, I was just passing by. Just got back from the pop music club. What's got you so worked up?"

Unperturbed, the bullies turned around to face Kalim, attempting to exploit the vulnerability they perceived in his sunny disposition. "Oh, look, he's trying to play the hero. Say, does the housewarden of Scarabia like this little misfit?."

Y/n, still reeling from the earlier torment, looked at Kalim with a mixture of gratitude and surprise. Kalim, however, beamed back, seemingly unaffected by their insinuations.

"What? Well, who wouldn't want to be friends with someone as amazing as Y/n?" Kalim responded, his sincerity disarming in its authenticity.

The bullies persisted, their cruel words attempting to chip away at Kalim's unwavering spirit. "Heh. Do you hear that, Y/n? There’s finally someone willing to put up with your pathetic act of a personality! I guess our little otter here is too stupid to see how worthless you are."

It was when they directed their malice back at Y/n, their words a venomous assault, that Kalim's carefree demeanor faltered. His eyes narrowed, the red glow dimming as a protective instinct took hold.

"Enough is enough," Kalim asserted, his voice carrying an unexpected edge. "You don't get to treat people like this."

Undeterred, the bullies persisted, casting disparaging remarks at both Kalim and Y/n. In response, Kalim maintained his composure, shielding Y/n from the verbal onslaught with unwavering resolve.

When the bullies continued to escalate the situation, Kalim took charge. "That's it. We're done here," he declared, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. He offered a hand to Y/n, helping her to her feet with a reassuring touch.

"Let's get you out of here," Kalim suggested, handing Y/n her scattered belongings. "If you ever feel unsafe, Jamil and I are here for you."

The unease in the bullies' expressions was palpable as they realized their words didn’t affect their targets anymore. Kalim's protective stance and genuine concern for Y/n had disrupted their cruel narrative.

As the bullies slinked away, annoyed by the outcome, Kalim escorted Y/n back to Scarabia. Their walk was filled with moments of comforting silence, punctuated by Kalim's attempts to lighten the mood with his infectious laughter. When Y/n finally gave him a smile back he perked up. “It’s so nice to see you smile again!” The sight gave him new confidence to land a kiss on Y/n’s cheek. 

Within the dark corridors of Night Raven College, the tormentors faced an unexpected obstacle in their pursuit of cruelty: Vil Schoenheit. As the charismatic figure stepped into the scene, the bullies exchanged uneasy glances, momentarily thrown off balance by the interference.

"Are you so starved for attention that you resort to tormenting others?" Vil's voice, laced with disdain, sliced through the air. His steely gaze met the bullies', challenging them to proceed.

However, their malevolence knew no bounds. Unwilling to be deterred, the bullies redirected their scorn towards Vil, attempting to humiliate him for daring to protect Y/n. "Look at this, the pretty prince thinks he can play hero. What, do you like the little misfit?" one of them jeered, the venom in his words aimed at both Vil and Y/n.

Vil, however, remained unfazed, ignoring their attempts to provoke him. Instead, he focused on Y/n, helping her up with a gentleness that contradicted the harsh reality they were facing. His fingers delicately corrected her clothing, fixed her tie, and smoothed her tousled hair. Vil's eyes met hers, a silent reassurance passing between them.

"Pay them no mind," he whispered, his breath brushing against Y/n's ear, a gesture that held an undercurrent of intimacy. "They thrive on our reactions."

The bullies, frustrated by Vil's indifference, resorted to physically assaulting Y/n, grabbing her by the shoulder. Before their cruelty could escalate further, Vil's hand shot out like a viper, gripping the offender's wrist with an intimidating strength.

"It's in your best interest to leave," Vil asserted, his voice low and threatening. "I won't tolerate such behavior. Choose wisely."

The bullies, now cowed by the unexpected turn of events, hastily retreated, leaving Vil and Y/n in the aftermath of their confrontation.

Vil escorted Y/n to his dorm, a haven away from the oppressive bullying that had sought to consume her. Inside his room, he offered her a seat and gently handed her a towel, his eyes reflecting genuine concern.

"Take your time," Vil said softly, his hands meticulously tending to a small cut on Y/n's cheek. "You deserve better than the cruelty of those einzellers."

As Vil carefully cleaned the remnants of the bullying, his thoughts betrayed the secret that he harbored in the depths of his heart. He cared deeply for Y/n, and every gentle touch, every word of reassurance, echoed the silent confession he dared not speak aloud.

"You deserve to be treated with kindness," he murmured. “Just make sure to stay by my side, Y/n.”

The dimly lit corridor was transformed into a battleground as Idia Shroud stepped forward, his normally reserved demeanor overshadowed by an unexpected fierceness. The bullies, accustomed to preying on the vulnerable, saw an opportunity to assert dominance over someone they perceived as even weaker — the introverted Idia.

"You think you can protect her?" one of the bullies taunted, a malicious smirk on his face. "What's the weakling going to do?"

Idia, his disheveled hair falling over his determined eyes, stood defiantly, shielding Y/n from the impending storm. The bullies, sensing a perceived vulnerability, closed in on the pair, their laughter echoing through the corridor.

"Why are you even bothering, Shroud? What's in it for you?" another bully jeered, the air thick with arrogance.

Y/n's heart sank, anticipating the onslaught of mockery that was about to befall them both. Idia, feeling the weight of their poisonous words, clenched his fists, his usual anxiety exacerbated by the confrontation.

"Why would someone like you bother to protect her?" another bully chimed in, his tone dripping with contempt. "She's not worth it, and you're just making yourself look like more of a loser."

The bullies, emboldened by their perceived victory, closed in on Idia and Y/n. The pressure intensified, and Y/n's distress became palpable. Idia, however, couldn't bear to see her suffer any longer.

In a moment of unexpected defiance, the blue flames in Idia's hair intensified, shifting to a fiery orange. The air crackled with newfound energy as Idia's eyes blazed with determination. He had reached his breaking point.

"What do you know about worth?" Idia snapped, his usually timid voice cutting through the tension like a samurai sword. "You think you can just waltz around, tormenting others without consequence? Well, think again."

The bullies, now faced with an Idia they hadn't anticipated, faltered as he unleashed a verbal onslaught more cutting than their own. "You want to mock me? Fine. But lay off her. You have no idea what it's like to be her, to carry the weight of your cruelty every day."

As his words hung in the air, Idia's threat escalated. "And if you don't back off right now, I'll make sure your precious devices become my playground. Hacking is my specialty, and trust me, I can make your lives a living nightmare."

The bullies, genuinely frightened by the unexpected turn of events, retreated in haste, leaving Idia and Y/n alone in the aftermath of the confrontation. As the echoes of their footsteps faded, Idia's fiery aura subsided, returning to the familiar blue and turned his attention to Y/n.

"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice softening as he reached out to gently wipe away the tears that still clung to her cheeks.

Y/n nodded, a mixture of gratitude and admiration in her eyes. "Thank you, Idia. I didn't expect..."

Idia cut her off with a dismissive wave. "It's not like I did it for you or anything. I just couldn't stand their stupidity."

As the tension eased, Idia reverted to his introverted self, a visible anxiety settling over him. "I... um, well, I should go. Just forget about it," he mumbled, glancing away.

But as he turned to leave, Y/n caught his hand. "Idia, wait. Thank you," she said, a gentle smile playing on her lips. "You didn't have to do that, but you did."

Idia's eyes met hers, a subtle warmth beneath the layers of his usual aloofness. "Just don't make it a habit of needing my help," he quipped, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. Even though those words escaped his blue lips, in his heart he hoped that Y/n would come to him in her days of need. 

In the gloomy halls of Night Raven College, the three Savanaclaw bullies tried to justify their actions as mere play, their voices faltering under Malleus Draconia's piercing gaze. "We were just messing around, no harm intended," one of them stammered, attempting to downplay the cruelty they had inflicted upon Y/n.

Malleus, his patience exhausted, snapped his fingers. In an instant, the bullies were suspended above the ground. The Diasomnia housewarden wasted no time; his eyes met Y/n's, and the look on her face spoke volumes. This was not mere play; it was torment.

Outside, the atmosphere shifted, echoing Malleus's wrath. Lightning flashed, and thunder roared, a visceral manifestation of the storm brewing within him. The bullies, now terrified, were at the mercy of the fae prince's judgment.

With a graceful motion Malleus offered Y/n a hand to help her up. The warmth of his touch was a stark contrast to the chilling air of the college. "Are you hurt?" he asked, genuine concern evident in his eyes.

Y/n shook her head, grateful for Malleus's intervention. As they stood together, the fae prince surveyed the bullies with a cold, calculating gaze. "Explain yourselves," he demanded, his voice like the rumble of distant thunder.

The bullies, now realizing the gravity of their actions, stumbled over their words. Malleus's patience waned, and with another snap of his fingers, he immobilized them once more, this time freezing their levitating bodies.

Turning back to Y/n, Malleus took a step closer, his eyes softening as he surveyed the emotional toll the ordeal had taken on her. "I can make them feel the pain they inflicted upon you, Y/n," he offered, his voice low and filled with restrained fury.

Y/n, however, shook her head again, her eyes reflecting a mix of gratitude and reluctance. "No, Malleus. I don't want that."

Respecting her wishes, Malleus released the bullies, who fell to the ground with a thud before scrambling to flee. The housewarden, however, wasn't finished. With a flick of his wrist, he summoned Y/n's scattered belongings, collecting them with a gentle sweep of his hand.

"Allow me," he murmured, his eyes never leaving hers as he gathered her things. Malleus, his expression softening, lifted Y/n into his arms, carrying her bridal style.

As they navigated the corridors, Malleus's gaze remained on Y/n, a silent promise of protection and comfort. "No one should be subjected to such cruelty," he stated, his voice a low growl.

Once they reached a more secluded spot, Malleus gently set Y/n down. "If ever you need someone to shield you from the shadows, know that I am here," he confessed, his eyes revealing the depth of his emotions.

The lingering thunder outside echoed the storm within Malleus, but his gaze softened, and a hint of vulnerability appeared as he regarded Y/n. "Do you feel safe now?"

Y/n nodded “T-thank you, Malleus… You’re my savior.” Upon seeing her smile Malleus felt his worries wash away. To reflect this new found emotion the storms outside seem to lay down, making way for the sun to reveal its face once again. Malleus kneeled before her, cupping her face in his hand. “I won’t let anyone harm you ever again.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland fanfiction #twst fanfiction #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al-asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia #reader insert #twst x reader #this came to be because of my nightmare last night about my bullies from high school #if only a pretty boy would save me then LOL #this is just me reflecting just let me be #vil is such a gentleman i love him so much!!!! #i could do the vice housewardens too if people like to see more! #Tomorrow finally arrives my matras. no more couch!

[dark-and-kawaii]

The Real Incubus

Haarlep x F!Tav/Reader

⋆˙⟡♡ Summary: You help Haarlep in recalling their authentic identity and their original appearance, prior to their glamorized transformation to mimic Raphael's visage.

⋆˙⟡♡ Notes: Haarlep is my ultimate comfort and I’ve been kinda down lately. Was in need of some sort of comfort, thus for bringing this to life. I hope you enjoy xoxo

⋆˙⟡♡ NSFW | Soft Haarlep | A Touch Of Malevolent Haarlep | Comfort | Minor Angst | Biting | Minor Blood

As you straddled Haarlep in bed, you could feel their tail curling around your arm and pulling you closer. You leaned in, placing one hand on their hip and the other in their hair as your lips met. They were soft and warm, and you felt the tip of their tongue flicking across your lower lip.

“Haarlep,” you whispered, your fingertips exploring their- Raphael’s horns… The ridges and textures that should have been Haarlep's own. Each groove, each pointed tip, had been an echo of Raphael's form, “Try to remember your horns,” your voice a soft melody in the quiet room, “Think of how they curved or stood straight, unique to you, a crown suited only for you.”

Haarlep's eyes fluttered closed, their breath hitching for the first time ever as they concentrated on your fingers, on the words that were like keys to locked doors within their mind. The weight of Raphael's influence starting to lift, bit by bit, with each gentle touch.

Your hands glide down the wings which weren’t of theirs, the expansive red membranes that had been made to mimic Raphael's own; a cruel reminder of Haarlep’s captivity. “The shape of your wings were surely more magnificent than his…” your fingers caressing the inner part of their wings, “Remember their true form, the majesty that was stolen from you.”

Slowly, Haarlep's wings began to embrace you, wrapping around your entwined forms. It was a possessive gesture, one that hinted at the true nature of their being, a sign of what was hidden under the mask Raphael had forced them to wear.

Your hands slide up the sides of their chest, tracing the outlines of the veins. The tips of your fingers brushing over their skin. Haarlep arched their back, pressing into your touch. It was the most “human” motion they had made in a long time, a reminder that they were more than what Raphael had made them out to be.

Your hands moved to Haarlep’s face to pull them closer. Holding their face tenderly, you kiss their jaw gently, a touch filled with reassurance and an invitation to rediscover themself, “Try to remember your face, the stubble, perhaps?” You breathed between kisses, “Or maybe clean-shaven,” you mused, nipping lightly to elicit a moan from them.

With one last nip at their jaw, you let your hands slide down the muscular expanse of Haarlep’s chest, the body that had been used and abused for so long, even starved... “Remember your body…” you coaxed, your voice a velvet murmur, “The way it would move on its own as soon as it saw a pretty new victim. You were grace and temptation incarnate, not a mere echo of another.”

There was a shift then, a subtle change in the air as Haarlep's form seemed to waver, the imposed visage of Raphael's glamorized design quivering. The incubus’s eyes closed, brows furrowing in concentration, as if they were diving into the depths of their own soul to find what was lost.

You held them close, a beacon of belief and support, waiting for the moment when Haarlep would emerge not as the devil Raphael had shaped, but as the true incubus they were born to be, a creature of beauty and desire, of power and freedom. And in the intimate cocoon of Haarlep’s wings, you waited to see your unconventional lover's true self to awaken.

The warm brush of Haarlep's lips against your neck sent a shiver down your spine, and their hands, which had been resting on your thighs, now found your waist. There was a soft, amused chuckle as their fingers brushed against the hem of your nightgown.

“The scent of your arousal,” they purred, their hands moving down the front of your body, “And the taste of it running down my throat,” Haarlep’s mouth was hot, almost feverish against your neck, “is all I can think about, little dove.” You could feel their hands moving between your legs, could feel the pressure of their palms against you and the way their claws tore through the fabric of your thin panties.

As the remnants of the cloth were tossed aside, you could hear the faint hiss of their breath against your skin as the incubus took in the scent of your desire. The sharp edge of their fangs grazed against your pulse, the sensation sending a bolt of white-hot lust down your spine.

Their tail moved from your arm and curled around your leg, you could feel the tip sliding along your thigh before coming to rest against your entrance. Your hips bucking instinctively at the feeling of Haarlep’s fingers circling your sensitive little clit.

Haarlep’s eyes remained closed, lashes casting delicate shadows on the incubus’s cheeks, as if they were navigating through the darkness of their own lost memories. The sensation was foreign to them, this gentle encouragement to be no one but themself, to shed the layers of someone else's whims and reveal the core of their being.

"I- I want you to touch me how Haarlep would touch me, not Raphael…" You kissed their horns, a symbolic gesture to honor their identity, to coax out the soul of the incubus beneath the surface. "To feel your hands upon my skin, instead of his."

At your words, their breath grew deeper, a rhythmic pulse that resonated with the stirrings of their authentic self. The very air around you seemed to hum with the power of their awakening, the room charged with the magic of rediscovery. Each bite, each mark, they placed upon your skin was like a word in a long-forgotten language, now being spoken with tentative fluence.

The shadow of Raphael that had clung to Haarlep's form began to dissipate like mist at dawn's first light. A subtle coolness radiated from them, an ominous glow that seemed to come from within, illuminating the room.

As Haarlep's fingers delved between your folds, their true self emerged, and you were completely enraptured by such beauty.

“You belong to me, my fragile, little dove,” their voice, dark yet smooth like whisky as they hissed into your ear, "Entirely mine to claim, mine to savor, mine to ravage and shatter."

When Haarlep finally opened their eyes, they were not the eyes that mirrored Raphael's. They were deep and vast, eyes that could easily entrap someone. In those eyes, you saw the incubus Haarlep was meant to be; free from the chains of servitude, a creature of beauty and lust.

“Haarlep,” your voice barely above a whisper, “I’m all yours, please-“ your body was so eager to have them, to be filled, to be taken and ravished, by Haarlep’s real self your mind was dizzy with it. This was Haarlep, this was your incubus in all their glory, and your eyes pleaded with them to feast upon you.

The incubus released a chilling chuckle, a cacophony akin to the tolling of a death knell, "Have you fantasized of my true caress, of the ecstasy and torment I could truly bestow upon you?" Their talons, sharp and unyielding, traced a menacing path along the quivering flesh of your inner thighs.

This was them, the real Haarlep whom no longer existed under Raphael's or Mephistopheles’s rule. You were no longer protected by the devil known as Raphael, Haarlep was free to do as they pleased, to devour you, body and soul, until nothing remained. Yet you remained loyal to the creature, and your faith in them was unwavering.

Your back arched and a small whimper left your throat, and you found yourself nodding impatiently, “Y-yes, I-I- wanted this for so long, Haarlep. Wanted this for you for so long for you.” Your fingers were still cupped around their face, thumbs brushing the incubus's cheekbones, a touch that was more loving and tender than anything you had given Raphael.

Haarlep's smile twisted into a predatory sneer as they shifted you beneath them, their dominance undeniable. They hoisted one of your legs over their shoulder, the other imprisoned against their waist, "Then it shall be my dark delight to bestow upon you the agony you crave, my little dove.” Their tail wrapped around their cock, “until you're drowning in the very darkness you sought.” A fat member with ridges and veins that protruded, a shaft that throbbed, a thick head leaking precum, a weapon that had the capability to destroy your very sanity.

You gave a needy groan, and then gasped as they thrust inside, their cock spreading you open, forcing its way past the tight resistance of your pussy. Stretching and filling you so well, you felt beyond full. Haarlep was ruthless, driving themself deeper and deeper until there was nowhere left for them to go, and still, you yearned for more.

You threw your head back and gasped, moaning and biting back screams- they were so much bigger than Raphael’s cock.

"Do you think yourself safe, little dove?" They taunted, their sharp teeth leaving stinging trails across the tender skin of your throat, "Even if you scream, even if you beg, there will be no mercy, no escape."

In a single brutal movement, Haarlep bottomed out and you couldn't hold back the scream that ripped from your throat. You couldn't think, couldn't breathe, your whole body was burning up, the delicious heat spreading from your core all the way down to the tips of your toes.

You were helpless, writhing and mewling as Haarlep plowed into you, each thrust tearing your mind apart. The incubus was merciless, and all you could do was cling to them, nails raking down their back and wings as they pounded into you.

“You wanted this, you desired this, didn't you? To be claimed, to be ravaged by a real incubus- by the real me… Here I am.”

You could feel Haarlep's fingers curling around the base of your neck, their claws digging into your skin, the threat of a slow and excruciating death clear. Yet, they held back, their grip not strong enough to kill you, just enough to give you a taste of what could happen.

“H-Haarlep~” you moaned, their name the only coherent thought in your head. You couldn't take it, the pleasure was too much, the sensation of being so full, of being fucked so hard by the one you always wished to have to yourself.

Haarlep laughed, a cold and cruel sound, the sound of a predator about to claim its prey, a sound of a nightmare that had finally been realized. Their lips pressed against yours, a sharp pain blossoming where their fangs nicked your bottom lip. The taste of your blood lingering on their tongue as they kissed you, the kiss as violent as their thrusts.

Their grip tightened around your throat, their claws cutting into your skin, drawing blood causing you to wince. “Tell me,” they demanded, their voice a low, husky growl- their wings spread wide, “tell me that you belong to me, that you're mine.”

Haarlep was losing control, the walls around their consciousness falling apart with every thrust… Until you wrapped your arms around their head and pulled them into you, “I-i’m yours, I'm yours~!! Only yours, my love~!!” You could feel your heart quicken at the realization of what you were about to confess, “I've always belonged to you and no one else. My heart, my body, my soul, are yours… I-“ You could feel your tears welling, “I love you, Haarlep- my dear incubus, my Haarlep.”

You couldn’t see the way Haarlep’s eyes widened, their lips parting as their name fell from yours- or how their face softened… But you could feel the way their grip loosened, their claws retracting as they embraced you while pressing their face against your shoulder.

They planted a gentle kiss upon your neck before their tongue swept across the wounds they inflicted, lapping away the traces of your blood. The hand once constricting your throat shifted to support the back of your head, softly angling it to the side to grant themselves a clearer path.

Your fingers ran through Haarlep’s hair, and your hips rocked against theirs. It was a sweet moment, a moment where you held each other close, and the world seemed to fade away. You knew Haarlep would never say the words back, but this right here, their embrace, their soft thrusts- that was all you needed.

In the aftermath, Haarlep was fast asleep on your chest, their breathing deep and even. You gently ran your fingers through their hair, smiling when you felt them stir and snuggle closer. You watched the way their wings spread across the bed, almost like a personal shield, a blanket that enveloped you both in warmth.

They were a vision of perfection, their skin flawless, and their horns shone like polished ebony. Haarlep was perfect, everything about them was perfect, and you felt a sudden surge of pride and happiness knowing that it was because of you that they had reclaimed their true self.

Your hands trailed over the softness of their wings, and you couldn't resist pressing a kiss against the tip of their horn, “So beautiful," you whispered, “So very, very beautiful.”

Nothing was left of Raphael on them, it was just them. Before death's cousin known as sleep could consume you- you swore to yourself that no matter what, you would protect Haarlep from the world, and from the devils who tried to shape them.

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael bg3 #haarlep #tav #haarlep x tav #haarlep x reader #haarlep bg3 #Haarlep smut #bg3 smut #raphael the cambion

[sas-soulwriter]

Dark ideas for your book

(promts)

The Eclipsed City: In a dystopian future, a city is perpetually shrouded in darkness due to a rare cosmic event. Within its shadows, a mysterious cult thrives, promising salvation to those who embrace the eternal night.

Spectral Inheritance: A family cursed with the ability to see and communicate with ghosts is haunted by a malevolent spirit that seeks to manipulate them into committing unspeakable acts.

The Silence Plague: A mysterious illness sweeps across the world, causing those afflicted to lose the ability to speak. As society collapses, a group of survivors must navigate the eerie quietness and unravel the origins of the plague.

Cabinet of Wonders: An eccentric collector amasses a macabre assortment of cursed artifacts. When a group of thieves attempts to steal from the collection, they unwittingly unleash ancient evils upon the world.

The Labyrinthine Asylum: A renowned psychologist opens an asylum for the criminally insane, but as he delves into the minds of the patients, he discovers a shared, otherworldly experience that threatens to consume them all.

The Dollmaker's Obsession: A toymaker creates eerily lifelike dolls imbued with the souls of the deceased. As the dolls begin to exhibit disturbing behavior, the townspeople must confront the consequences of meddling with the afterlife.

The Whispering Woods: A forest is rumored to house a malevolent entity that preys on the deepest fears of those who enter. A group of friends camping in the woods must confront their inner demons as reality warps around them.

Mirror, Mirror: A cursed mirror reflects not the physical appearance but the innermost desires of those who gaze into it. As individuals succumb to their obsessions, the mirror's dark power grows stronger.

The Forgotten Carnival: A long-abandoned carnival mysteriously reopens, drawing in unsuspecting visitors. However, the attractions harbor supernatural secrets that force patrons to face their darkest fears.

Phantom Limbs: After a groundbreaking medical procedure, patients begin to experience the sensation of phantom limbs that seem to have a life of their own, leading to a series of grisly and unexplainable events.

The Clockwork Curse: A clockmaker crafts a series of intricate, cursed timepieces that manipulate the lives of their owners. As time unravels, the characters must race against the clock to break the curse.

The Wretched Symphony: In a haunted opera house, a composer unwittingly writes a masterpiece that channels the anguish of tormented spirits. The music's power transcends the stage, causing supernatural disturbances throughout the city.

The Soul Market: A hidden market emerges where people can buy and sell souls. Those who partake soon discover the horrifying consequences of trading away their essence.

Tunnels of Despair: A series of mysterious tunnels are discovered beneath a small town, leading to an ancient chamber that houses a malevolent force capable of manifesting the fears of anyone who enters.

The Crimson Masquerade: At a masquerade ball, attendees wearing cursed masks find themselves trapped in a surreal realm where their darkest secrets are revealed, leading to a night of intrigue, betrayal, and horror.

The Oracle's Prophecy: A gifted oracle foretells a series of apocalyptic events, and a group of unlikely heroes must decipher the cryptic messages to prevent the end of the world.

The Coven's Conspiracy: In a secluded village, a coven of witches enacts a dark ritual to unleash a powerful ancient entity. As the villagers begin to vanish, a lone investigator must confront the supernatural forces at play.

The Unseen Gallery: An artist creates paintings that come to life, each depicting a nightmarish realm. As the paintings multiply, they threaten to merge the real world with their grotesque dimensions.

The Haunting Melody: A cursed melody is passed down through generations, causing madness and death to those who hear it. A musician discovers the haunting tune and must find a way to break the curse before it claims more lives.

The Apothecary's Concoction: A mysterious apothecary brews elixirs that grant extraordinary abilities, but at a cost. As users become addicted to the potions, they spiral into madness, leading to a city on the brink of collapse.

#creative writing #writing #writblr #writing advice #writers block #writers on tumblr #writing community #writeblr #writing tips #words #promt #writer stuff

[awearywritersworld]

Gojo Satoru x Reader summary: you and gojo have been more than friends for years, but when geto massacred all those civilians, it left him broken. years later, he finally realizes he needs to pick up the pieces. w/c: 2.1k warnings: smut, kinda angsty, but also fluffy, creampie, gojo being vulnerable, sex with feelings a/n: lovers to it's complicated to maybe we can fix things vibes, fem!reader, softdom!gojo, *NSFW under the cut* masterlist

A steady, slow percussion reaches Gojo’s ears as he stands outside your door late one evening. His hand rises to knock against the wood, though he wonders if you can even hear it over the music. Just as his knuckles are about to meet with the door once more, the melody grows quieter and he listens to your soft footsteps approach. When the door swings open, revealing you on the other side, the sight alone makes the ever-present burden on Gojo’s shoulders feel less crushing.

“What are you doing here?”

A dark shirt hangs loosely from his frame and your eyes trail down to his exposed collarbones before they dart back up to his face. He looks tired and worn, but so do you. 

“I just finished that mission, the special grade in Minato.” 

His words don’t necessarily answer your question, but you still move aside to let the man in. He notices the drink in your hand for the first time when you bring it to your lips and take a small sip.

Your relationship with Gojo is complicated, a fact that weighs heavily in your chest. It wasn't always this way. 

At first, it was simple. You’d never explicitly called yourself a couple, though your actions toward and feelings for one another were those of lovers. Your relationship was left undefined, sure, but never complicated. 

That was years ago, though--- before Geto massacred those civilians, before he tore his best friend's heart to pieces.

You alone had been there to see Gojo’s inevitable breakdown. You would never forget how his voice cracked as he cursed the cruel world and malevolent gods that presided over it. His hair had fallen over his eyes, but they were still shining brightly despite the tears that flooded them. 

Those memories, seared into your mind, make it hard to stay mad at him. Even though he disappears for days at a time and hides his feelings behind that cocky nonchalance... You remain by his side nonetheless.

As he steps past you and into the room, he squeezes your hip in greeting. The warm, dim lighting of the room brings him a small sense of ease, even as violent images from the mission wrack his mind. He moves toward your small kitchenette, making himself a drink to match your own. 

You watch as the amber-colored liquor pours over the ice and fills his cup, grimacing at the sight. You know he hates alcohol more than most things. “Minato was that bad, huh?"

He tilts his head back and lets the liquor run down his throat, trying and failing not to wince at the sensation. He wipes at his lips before nodding, “yes.” 

You sit down on the sofa and he grabs the bottle from the counter before joining you, sitting close enough that your thighs touch. He tops off both your drinks, then leans back, slings an arm around your shoulders, and relaxes into the cushions. You whisper your thanks. It's silent for a little while, save for the quiet music.

“I didn’t think saving people would be such a bloody endeavor," you begin. You're no stranger to the gory reality rattling around in his head at the moment. "Wanna talk about?"

He does and he doesn't spare you any of the details regarding his last 48 hours. Over the course of his recollection, you shift so that you're situated more snugly into his side, your fingers fiddling with the hem of his shirt as you listen intently. He chokes up toward the end, struggling to recount the worst and final part.

You place your hand above his knee. "I'm sorry you couldn't save them, 'Ru. I know how impossible it is to endure, let alone talk about."

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just presses his thigh into your touch. When he takes the last sip left in his glass, it doesn't sting as much now that he's reached the bottom.

“Well, I’ve got no secrets, baby.. Not with you, anyway. Just dirty shame.” 

Your features soften and you know the meaning behind his words doesn't pertain to cursed spirits alone.

"You should try to forgive yourself."

You look up at him to find that he's already peering down at you. He wants to tell you he can't ever possibly do that. There isn't a day that goes by that he doesn't regret how he's treated you over the years.

"You're so pretty," he says instead.

You reach up to pull the blindfold from his eyes, which he lets you do without protest. The praise had made your stomach stir, but the intense look swimming in his irises increases it tenfold.

"So are you."

He leans over and places his empty cup on the table. The loss of contact almost makes you shiver, but it's only a moment before his warmth returns and he reaches up to caress your cheek.

He leans in, closing his eyes and brushing his nose against yours lovingly. When his lips find yours, they taste like whisky, but they're still impossibly sweet.

His movements are slow and deliberate, his hand creeping to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair in hopes of keeping you close. His other hand finds your waist, tugging you toward his lap.

You oblige, shifting to straddle him without breaking the kiss. Your hands rest on his chest, noting the way it rises and falls deeply beneath your palms. He pulls away ever so slightly.

"Tell me you're mine," he pleads desperately against your lips.

"Always have been, 'Ru," you answer honestly.

It makes his heart squeeze and he grabs your face with both hands, pulling it back so that he can really look at you.

"You're so sweet to me."

His tone takes you off guard and all you can do in response is press your lips against his once more. This time, however, it's more fervent--- sloppy, even--- as your hands grab at the other's clothing.

Quickly, you're both left only in your underwear and your now exposed skin is hot against his own. You can feel that he's hardened beneath you, so you press yourself against him and let out a small noise at the sensation.

He grabs your hips tightly and his cock begins to strain against his boxers. As you move, you can feel every ridge of it through the thin fabric.

"Off," you mutter, slipping a finger under his waistband and pulling at it.

He stands, easily supporting your combined weight, and lays you down on the couch. He clumsily slides the boxers down his thighs, his cock slapping against his stomach in the process. The sight of it has you rubbing your thighs together impatiently.

He kneels between your legs, pulling them apart, and pushes your panties to the side. A groan passes his lips in appreciation when he runs a finger up your slit, already slick for him.

He litters your thighs with kisses, moving along so slowly it makes your core begin to ache. By the time he reaches where you need him most, you're squirming under his hold.

His nose nudges your clit as he kisses you there and you exhale sharply.

"Satoru, please," you whine.

Unable to deny you, he hums and slips a finger inside, curling it up to hit that one spot he knows you like.

You clench around his finger, sending a shudder through both your bodies, and you mewl in a way that makes him realize how needy you are.

"N-No," you stammer, pushing his hand away despite the pleasure it was bringing you. A thin sheen of sweat has appeared on your forehead. "Need you inside."

Your plea makes his cock throb painfully and he wastes no time in positioning himself over top of you. He gently presses your thigh to your chest and enjoys one of his favorite views in the world. Lining himself up with your entrance, he rubs his head along your folds.

Leaning down to plant a kiss on your forehead, his lips linger there for a moment.

"Fuck, (y/n)," he murmurs in your ear just before pushing in.

A guttural moan escapes his throat when he first splits you open. Once he's filled you to the hilt, he stills, his fists clenching. He'll never tire of the way your warm, tight walls make him feel.

"I'm yours too, you know." He takes his first thrust and relishes in how your mouth falls open in response. "All yours."

Gojo picks up the pace and you grab at his back and bicep, leaving harsh red marks beneath your fingernails. You feel so full it's dizzying.

"Just like that," you encourage him.

He looks down to where you're connected. Everything about the moment is like a drug to him--- your pretty pussy clenching around him, your breathy moans in his ear, his skin flush against yours.

He reaches down to your clit, sliding it between his fingers and rubbing firm, steady circles there. His eyes shift to your face. "Look at me."

You listen obediently, your eyes growing hazy. His mirror your own, heavy-lidded with pleasure. He pushes your other thigh to your chest to match the first. "This feel good, baby?"

You nod up at him with parted lips and flushed cheeks. His mouth finds your neck, leaving a mix of messy kisses and bites from your shoulder up to your ear. "C'mon, cum for me. I know you're a good girl."

You whimper from the over stimulation and feel your core tighten, your thighs tensing. Your grip on his bicep strains and your eyes screw shut. He knows you're close.

"Tsk, tsk," he chides, "I said look at me, sweetheart."

"'M sorry," you cry softly as your eyes pop open.

He hums, a small smile on his face. His gaze is unyielding. Possessive, in a way.

There's a light feeling in the pit of your stomach. "Satoru-"

"I know, baby." His voice is honeyed, "go 'head."

At his words, you feel your climax roll through you, the powerful sensation reaching every single part of your body. Your legs tremble weakly and Gojo thinks the strangled sound you just made was delightful.

He's in heaven. Your pussy is pulsating around his cock and you're still holding his gaze, all fucked out and beautiful.

"You feel so fucking good," he growls.

His hips begin to snap against yours at an unforgiving pace, but his movements soon become irregular.

"Can I fill you up?" He's all but pleading with you.

"Please." He takes satisfaction in the fact that you sound just as desperate as he does.

His hand moves to grab your hip. His is grip painful but elicits a moan from you that pushes him over the edge.

Your name falls from his lips in the same way a sinner begs for heaven. His final strokes are sloppy, but he still nestles himself inside you as deeply as he can

Gojo lowers his face to yours and you kiss along his jawline, before leaving a love bite on his neck. You feel his cock twitch inside you one last time. He rests like that for a little while, but eventually finds the strength to push himself back up.

He's pleased when he takes in the harsh marks he's left on your skin, a reminder that you're his. You watch him intently and Gojo can't help himself--- he leans down to nip at the fragile skin of your collarbones just a little more.

Afterward, he shifts so that he's spooning you, even if the small couch offered little space. Burying his nose in your hair and closing his eyes, his arms tighten around you.

"I love you," he offers.

It's not like you'd never heard Gojo say that he loves you, it's just something you hear a lot less ever since Geto-

You try to shift your mind away from that, staying quiet for a moment. You feel your eyes sting and you will yourself to keep it together.

Turning toward him, he's softened enough that he falls out with the movement. His cum runs down the crease of your thigh and you're left feeling empty.

Propping yourself up, you lean down and press your lips to his forehead. Your eyes well up once more, but this time, you can't make the tears disappear.

"I love you," you finally whisper against his skin.

When you pull away, you know immediately that he's noticed your watery eyes. Loving him has been the hardest thing you've ever done.

He knows that.

Instead of saying anything (he was liable to ruin the moment were he to speak, he knows that too), he pulls you into his chest and strokes the back of your head soothingly.

There's that dirty shame.

But he'll try to forgive himself because it's what you asked. Because he has to fix things before he loses you, too.

#m!writes!smut #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo imagines #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagines #gojo #gojo smut #gojo satoru smut #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen X reader #Jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut

[foranpo]

ੈ˚☆ their last good-bye.

fandom: bungou stray dogs.

characters: ranpo, dazai.

reader: gn!

genre: headcanons.

content: angst, major character death, mention of blood and suicide.

word count: ~600 each // ~1.2k total.

cole's note: i was gonna write for chuuya as well but 1. it's already huge for hcs and 2. i wasn't feeling the 3rd character so i left it as 2 characters and, who knows, maybe i'll post a 2nd part with chuuya and akutagawa <3

ੈ♡˳────── enjoy the reading <3 ──────

˚ʚ ranpo.

Not all of Ranpo's intelligence could predict your effect on him.

It started by being minutes. Just a few moments of his day when your absence was felt in the way his mind manufactured thoughts destined for you. Longing letters were whispered in the most solitary corners of Ranpo's mind, forcing him to create melancholy scenarios of never-gone moments, rehearsing over and over again soap operas of a nostalgia only remembered by the gods.

And, without noticing, minutes passed into hours. All the details that were dropped by you during the day, were picked up by Ranpo's astute mind like celestial dust left by the gods themselves; every detail of yours was noted with magic and hope in the heavy heart of Ranpo, the ink of the pen being of such tremendous kindness, adorned by the sun itself, that all the hours lost studying you seemed ephemeral, fast, too little.

So much space within Ranpo and all of it was taken up by you.

So… annoying. No. It wasn't just annoying. Ranpo would go as far as to say it was irritating to have so much of you inside him.

You flooded the essence of Ranpo. In a way, you, without realizing it, had consumed Ranpo's entire existence. The hours were few to decipher your mysteries, your whole essence appearing so great when inside Ranpo. You yourself were big inside Ranpo, squeezing his needs, stimulating his feelings, leaving no room for Ranpo himself to exist.

And when the hours passed into endless days of longing and yearning, Ranpo knew that the illness could not continue to spread any longer.

Because Ranpo didn't understand love, much less had he experienced it before you, and all the anxiety he felt away from you, all the curiosity that settled in him when you started talking, all the new stimuli and habits he gained, seemed to originate from a malevolent plague sent by the gods to distract him from his vocation as a detective.

And he couldn't let anything, or anyone, get in the way of him solving mysteries.

As such, it was without warning that Ranpo said goodbye to you. It just happened.

On a day like any other, where the sun was shining the same way, the birds were singing the same melody and the world was turning in the same direction, Ranpo said goodbye to you without gestures or words. Just negligence. A childish ignorance. An improper slight. All it took was for him to remain silent when he used to respond to your daily good mornings.

And, since then, as if by magic or the pleasure of the malevolent angels, the sun began to shine in gray tones, painting melancholy and nostalgia for each street he walked along, for each word spoken by him; the birds became sopranos of regrets, synchronizing Ranpo's loss and childishness in a symphony of disdain that has lasted to this day; and the world stopped turning, the clouds remaining static in the sky and overshadowing all the stars and hopes at night, the wind refusing to take with it Ranpo's sorrow for leaving you.

But Ranpo was now able to meet schedules and solve mysteries; Ranpo was now back to being the Ranpo he was before meeting you, without caring about the hours lost with you and thinking about you.

Ranpo was now himself, with no one else inside him —and all it took was for him to stop answering you to have the courage to say goodbye to you.

ੈ♡˳─────────────────────

˚ʚ dazai.

When the day came when Dazai had to say goodbye to you, he could only smile. Finally freedom.

With you in his arms, and a river of life flowing between you, all Dazai could do was smile. Everything went silent the moment he held you tight, the entire world suspending its magic so that all suffering was fixed at that moment, in that second, in that smile.

Dazai could only look at you; with a smile on his face and scarlet promises leaking from your lips, Dazai knew he would never forget that moment.

Small seconds changed the course of his life, without any warning or consideration, his whole existence was dyed of melancholy red of futures that were never going to happen —so why try to live them?

Now that he had you in his arms, knowing perfectly well that you would not let go of the agonizing scarlet that stained your clothes, Dazai finally felt free from the chains that bound him to this world. Now there were no excuses. No postponements. No errors. No you.

You... no longer existed.

The only color in this world, the only star that managed to survive the world's wickedness and the gods' warnings; you yourself no longer existed. Not when you had just been painted with the color of desolation.

So what pleasures did Dazai expect in this life, when the only heavenly soul had dissipated before him? Without any notice?

It was when the first tear toasted his smile that Dazai realized what happened.

You no longer existed. That red wasn't desolation, it was a farewell. A farewell that could not be retrieved, altered, or erased. That was real. The cascade of scarlet flowers was really a river of anguish and suffering —yours and Dazai's. It was a goodbye, not a see you later. It was permanent, not something momentary. And this time it wasn't caused by Dazai's boundless pranks; this time it was provoked by his carelessness and vanity. Although still causing all that pain, this time Dazai knew that no flowers or stuffed animals in this world could undo the harm he caused.

And Dazai's forehead met yours in a light, tremulous, hesitant encounter. Letting his tears wash away his own smile and spread your farewell over the rest of your face, Dazai just held you tight against him. Using all his strength, hoping you would wake up with the exaggeration of his love, hoping that all the red you dropped was just a joke to show him how much you suffered for dating that prankster.

But no reaction other than Dazai's came.

In that silent street, muffled by the city's movements, everything was silent, static, dark. And what once consumed Dazai, that freedom that was felt in the first seconds he held you and felt your essence being consumed by his fingertips, disappeared.

Now, only despair reigned in Dazai.

How could he even dream of freedom from this life, when he drowned you in the red river that consumed you? How could Dazai think of freeing himself from the anxieties and sufferings of this world, when he himself brought you eternal torment?

No. He could not achieve that freedom. Not when you went away with red words and scarlet gestures. Dazai was going to remain in this world. Letting your sudden departure dictate any and all suffering he came to feel, Dazai decided to stay —because, how could he dream of being with you if it was because of him that you said goodbye to this world?

ੈ♡˳───── feedback is appreciated <3 ─────

#;bungou stray dogs constellation; #ranpo x reader #ranpo headcanons #dazai x reader #dazai headcanons #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungou stray dogs headcanons #ranpo angst #dazai angst #bsd angst #bungou stray dogs angst

[aifanfictions]

story about Alastor from Hazbin Hotel falling slowly in love with (y/n) who is an emplyeee at the Hazbin Hotel and is trying to help Charlie save the sinners

Love in Hell's Heart

Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, had always been a creature of chaos and darkness. His eerie charisma and insatiable appetite for mayhem made him a feared figure in the underworld. He relished in the chaos that Hell had to offer, finding pleasure in the torment and suffering of lost souls.

But amidst the chaos and cacophony of Hell, there was one person who managed to capture Alastor's attention—a human named (Y/N). She was an employee at the Hazbin Hotel, a place that aimed to rehabilitate sinners and give them a chance at redemption. (Y/N) was different from the other demons; she possessed an innate kindness and an unwavering belief in the potential for goodness in even the most wicked of souls.

Every day, Alastor would tune into his radio show from the confines of his lavish penthouse in Hell. He'd broadcast his sinister melodies, taunting and tormenting the damned. Yet, he couldn't help but listen to (Y/N) when she appeared on the hotel's broadcast, urging sinners to seek redemption and turn away from their evil ways.

(Y/N)'s voice, filled with genuine compassion and understanding, intrigued Alastor. He'd sit in the darkness, entranced by her words, and wonder how someone could be so pure in a place so filled with darkness. It was a puzzle that he couldn't resist trying to solve.

One evening, Alastor decided to pay the Hazbin Hotel a visit. Disguised as a well-dressed gentleman, he entered the bustling lobby, hiding his true identity from the unsuspecting staff. He watched (Y/N) as she moved about, helping sinners with their troubles, offering them a glimmer of hope in the abyss of Hell.

As the days turned into weeks, Alastor continued his visits to the hotel. He'd find excuses to be near (Y/N), striking up conversations with her and trying to understand what made her so different. Her unwavering belief in the possibility of redemption both baffled and intrigued him.

One day, (Y/N) confided in him about her dream—to save as many souls as possible and bring them out of Hell's eternal torment. Alastor, for the first time in his existence, felt a strange sensation stirring within him. It was a feeling he couldn't quite place, but it seemed to radiate from the presence of (Y/N).

As the two spent more time together, Alastor found himself slowly changing. He was no longer content with sowing chaos and reveling in suffering. Instead, he began to see the potential for something more, something better. (Y/N)'s presence was like a beacon of light in his dark world, and he found himself drawn to her in ways he couldn't comprehend.

One night, under the blood-red skies of Hell, Alastor confronted his own inner demons. He realized that he had fallen in love with (Y/N), a human who had shown him a side of himself he never knew existed. It was a love that defied the very nature of Hell itself.

With newfound determination, Alastor decided to use his influence and power to assist (Y/N) and the Hazbin Hotel in their mission to save souls. He'd become an unexpected ally in the fight for redemption, all because of the love that had taken root in the darkest corners of his heart.

Together, (Y/N) and Alastor faced unimaginable challenges, battling against the malevolent forces of Hell to give sinners a chance at salvation. Their love, an anomaly in the fiery depths of Hell, became a beacon of hope and a testament to the power of redemption and change.

In the heart of Hell, amidst the chaos and suffering, a love story unlike any other unfolded—a love that transcended the boundaries of darkness and lit up the path to redemption for those who had once been lost.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #HazbinHotel #Alastor #RadioDemon #Hell #Redemption #LoveStory #DarknessAndLight #HopeInHell #UnlikelyLove #ChaosAndCompassion #RedeemingLove #HeartOfHell #FantasyRomance #Supernatural #ShortStory #TumblrWriting #CreativeWriting #reader insert #x reader

[perictione00]

Selfish

Ch 1: Surprise!!!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x reader

Warnings: a bit dark and graphic..?

Synopsis: You left the Jujutsu World behind the moment the source of your warmth turned cold. So what happens when you come face to face with that one episode in your life that you wanted to obliterate? Simple, you reap what you sow.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Malaysia, 2014

It was a tiring day, your period wasn't helping either. You were just itching to get home, take a shower, and order from that new Mexican place your boyfriend had been talking about. It was a Friday, so you were getting excited about the weekend. For some reason, you were feeling so grateful, maybe because your life was finally normal and you were happy. It was all okay until you encountered a young boy in a wheelchair, with a curse engulfing his lower body. A world that you wanted to escape so desperately, somehow never failed to present itself in a situation that made you question your morality. But after everything you had seen, you were way past morality, so you ignored the boy like you did with every other person who needed you.

"Jayden", you called out for your boyfriend as you opened the door to your shared apartment. You assumed, that he wasn't home yet as nobody answered but the familiar cursed energy you sensed said otherwise. You felt dreaded as it wasn't possible, you had dodged every single mistake that could have given away your whereabouts.

"Please no", you prayed as you walked further into the apartment. You froze, as you entered your bedroom. The bed was soaked in blood as the lifeless body of your boyfriend was being violated by a curse. "No, no, no, no, no", tears spilled out of your eyes as you started screaming in denial. It quickly turned into anger as a certain raven-haired man standing in the corner declared his presence, "Surprise!!!". You attacked him with a punch straight to his face and he didn't budge, he didn't dodge the many punches you threw his way while crying your heart out. He did stop you, chuckling, "Aww, don't cry..did you actually love this one? C'mon now, you know you're not capable of that". He started cradling you in a hug, "Now let's get back to business.., remember the traitor who left me?.. yeah, yeah, the one I trusted the most, remember that person?", his hand slid down your hair slowly as he continued, "oh wait, you look a lot like that person..the one who abandoned me".

2005

On New Year's Eve, you told your mum about some weird dreams you were having for the past few days, and of course, being a typical mother, she blamed it on your choices of television series. But you knew it wasn't because of the few Supernatural episodes that you had seen in the span of two months.

From the beginning of time, you were used to seeing terrifying figures randomly, which were avoided at all costs as you were scared of what might turn out if they knew of your existence. However, your parents thought otherwise, resulting in child therapy, which wasn't working yet you pretended it did. You adapted to your surroundings being full of creepy creatures, ignoring them, and trying to live like a normal teenager. That was until the onset of some weird dreams and a malevolent presence under your bed. It was weird, as none of them ever came in close proximity to you. Hence, you started sleeping with your parents again. The nightmares didn't stop; in spite of that, you felt good, safe, and loved, no longer scared.

The peacefulness vanished on the first day of 2006, when you were alone in the house and someone was singing a broken melody. You were petrified as you saw a woman playing a violin emerging from a newborn's skull, singing while rocking to the rhythm in the drawing room, suddenly stopping, turning, and smiling unnaturally at you.

"You would make a beautiful cello."

You bolted as it proceeded to move crookedly in your direction. It was guffawing so loudly that you had to cover your ears. Locking yourself in the bathroom, you called your parents, whispering to them about how much you loved them, until you heard a frightening tune on a piano. The call was disconnected, and the door started melting while you tried to escape from the window you couldn't reach. The room started turning white, and you saw your reflection in the mirror, smiling at you. Your vision blurred as you fell into a slumber.

Waking up, your eyes adjusted to the brightness of a white room. You felt agitated at first, but slowly observing, you saw your parents sitting sadly on a white couch. Thank fuck, it was a hospital room. Their happiness and relief after your recovery from an unexplainable incident couldn't be measured. You were spoiled rotten with love as you woke up after a week of unconsciousness. In the evening of the same day, a bulky man in all black approached your family, discussing something before finally coming to you. He introduced himself as Masamichi Yaga and unfolded the world of Jujutsu sorcerers to you. Though your parents were sure he was a cult member, you felt ecstatic; you weren't crazy after all. With that came many days of convincing, resulting in your parents ultimately agreeing to admit you to Tokyo Metropolitan Curse Technical College after checking its legitimacy a thousand more times. They were not ready to let you go, but they came around as you kept insisting with evidence.

On the way to the campus, the tough-looking man turned out to be a total softie who was explaining to you about your unknown technique and appreciating you for exorcising a grade 2 curse without any training. You were dumbfounded, but you were a sucker for praise, so you didn't question him.

After reaching the campus, you were introduced to your classmates, an almost gloomy Kento Nanami, and a total cutie, Yu Haibara. They were great, especially Haibara, who was currently showing you around the campus. After getting a hot drink, you both settled down on a seat. You weren't expecting to get along with anyone on the very first day, but Haibara's just so sweet that anyone can feel comfortable. He showed you your assigned room, and you guys called it a night.

However, later at night, your slumber was disrupted by a growling stomach at 3 in the morning. It was odd timing for a takeout, but you still gave it a shot, ordering a Zaru Soba with cola. You were surprised at how advanced the Tokyo delivery system was, as you got your delivery within 10 minutes. It tasted better than your expectations, and with that, you started brainstorming ideas to decorate your room, which was interrupted by a knock on the door. You ignored it the first time out of caution, but you opened it on the third knock. To your surprise, a literal god stood in front of you, and you didn't know how to react. "Hey..?", you broke the ice with an awkward greeting.

"I think the delivery guy confused our orders because we ordered the same thing, so I'm assuming this is yours", the Greek god said as he offered you your cola.

"Oh yeah, thanks..um..yeah", you were doing a great job continuing the conversation with your five syllables. Before you could close the door and save your ass from embarrassment, the guy asked for your name, and you told him. Shit, now you felt obligated to ask his name, and so you did. "And you are?"

"Geto Suguru"

Ch 2

#geto x reader #jjk angst #geto suguru x reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru angst #yandere geto suguru #jjk graphic #jjk dark #jjk pining #mean geto suguru #gojo satoru #kento nanami #anime #jjk #Jujutsu Kaisen #geto suguru x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader fluff #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader

[croh3]

imagine malevolent but arthur can not play piano. john is like play something that comes to mind :) and arthur just plays an utter dogshit of a melody

#relistening from the first episode <3 wish me luck #malevolent #chr-txt

[falafel14]

Jack Wolfe as Gabe Goodman

So I've had a few "Tell me everything!" responses to my recent post about the Donmar Warehouse's stunning new production of Next to Normal. Knowing the audience here, I'll narrow my focus to writing about what I know my fellow 'Six of Crows' fans will most want to hear - Jack's role as Gabe. I won't be recapping the show itself, as I assume most folks reading this will have listened to the soundtrack, read the script, or watched a Broadway bootleg. Or at least I hope so, because below you will find MAJOR SPOILERS for Next to Normal and specifically the Donmar's staging of it.

Gabe is introduced to us as the Goodman's teenage son, who seemingly has a close affectionate relationship with his mother, Diana, but frosty relationships with his father Dan and sister Natalie, neither of whom acknowledge his presence. About thirty minutes in we are shown exactly why. Diana brings out an 18th birthday cake when the family have Nat's boyfriend Henry over for dinner and it is revealed that today would have been Gabe's birthday...if he'd been alive. But Gabe died when he was a baby and Diana has only been imagining him growing up all these years.

Up until this point, Jack has been playing Gabe as a cheeky rebellious teenager, but when he slinks back on stage to blow out the candles on his cake, he becomes a much more ethereal and impish presence. In I Am The One, his expression transforms from sweet and devoted when singing to his mom, to menacing and malevolent when singing to his dad. Gabe manifests as different personas for each member of his family and it's thrilling to watch as Jack shifts between them all. When Natalie comes downstairs to sing Superboy and the Invisible Girl we see Gabe as the cocky conceited older sibling, who seems to revel in being their mother's favorite.

In her next therapy session, Diana is asked to speak about her son and this is when we get Gabe's showstopping I'm Alive solo. This number really did raise the roof. I'll admit when I saw videos of Jack singing it at Tom Kitt's concert, I was worried he wasn't giving the song the necessary attack. But on stage he goes absolutely full-throttle with it. He starts at the top of the stairs with a mic stand, looking like the frontman of a rock band, then he brings the mic down, roaming all over the floor. At one point in the song, Natalie and Dan have an argument and Gabe comes to stand between them, looking amused as he passes the mic between them. However Gabe starts to lose some of his swagger as Diana's doctor suggests that - as 18 is the age that children typically leave home - maybe Diana should think about her son this way and finally let him go.

In the next scene, Diana is in the kitchen, clearing out Gabe's things. She holds up a baby-grow and then starts playing a music box she used to use to help Gabe to sleep. Gabe comes down the stairs with a rucksack and duffle bag, like he's a kid being kicked out of the house by his parents. Diana can't seem to go through with it as she pulls him into a dance and they end up hugging with Gabe's head tucked under his mother's chin, like a needy child. This leads into There's a World, a hauntingly beautiful song with a very sinister undertone as we learn this is Gabe leading Diana towards a suicide attempt. This song and Catch Me I'm Falling are an excellent display of Jack's high range (he'd make a wonderful Orpheus in Hadestown - the UK production is coming next year, so...please??)

Following the suicide attempt, Diana is given shock therapy and consequently loses her memories of the last eighteen years. In the early part of Act 2 and for the song Aftershocks, Gabe is up in one of the upstairs rooms, like he's been locked in a cell - not gone, but no longer able to get to Diana. When Diana finds and plays Gabe's music box, there's this very chilling sight of Gabe's silhouette, his hands pressing to the screen, as he sings along to the melody. The lighting here is eerily reminiscent of a sonogram. When Diana regains her memory of her lost son, Gabe breaks free of the room, comes down the stairs to sing his I'm Alive (Reprise) from on top of the kitchen counter. After his wife's relapse, Dan crumbles to the floor, his back pressed to the kitchen counter. Gabe disappears behind the other side of the counter, and (I'm told, I couldn't see from my angle) he sits in the same position as Dan. They both stay like this for about 15mins while scenes with Diana, Nat and Henry take place.

As Diana leaves, Dan finally rises from the floor and begins singing his I am the One (Reprise). In other videos of this song that I have seen, Gabe is played quite aggressively, stalking around Dan, goading his father into acknowledging him. Jack does this scene very differently and effectively. He stays behind the counter, his eyes downcast, his manner meek as if quietly pleading for his father's attention. When Dan yells out "Why didn't you go with her?!" Gabe leaps up onto the counter and throws his arms around Dan, desperately clinging to him. When they get to the chorus, Dan turns round to face Gabe, gripping his arms. Then at the end, Dan staggers back and tearfully says his son's name for the first time. When Gabe responds with his "Hi Dad", Jack's face his full of shocked awe. He plays it like a child realizing the father he thought hated him, loved him all along. It's a devastating moment that had everyone in tears.

After the song, Dan reaches out a hand towards Gabe, but he stops as Natalie comes downstairs. Dan tells Nat her mother has left and Nat asks him - "So it's just me and you for now?" and there's a hesitation where Dan glances at Gabe, who is still sitting on the counter. When Dan finally answers yes, it's just the two of them, Gabe's expression is accepting, not resentful like earlier in the show. As he leaves to go upstairs, Gabe gently touches Nat's hand, almost like an apology. Natalie gives the slightest reaction, as if she is sensing something. It's a beautiful resolve to Gabe's role, and when he appears for the last time for his verse in Light, he no longer feels like a malevolent spirit, but more like this serene angel watching over his family as they all try to heal and go on with lives.

This is honestly a star-making performance from Jack as a young musical theatre actor. And as much as I want Jack and the other Crows actors to be off filming their spinoff show once the strikes are resolved, I also feel strongly that Jack belongs on the stage. Between his acting, his presence and his vocals, he's sure to be a performer in demand in the West End. Here's hoping there's award nominations to come. He's deserving of them.

#jack wolfe #next to normal #gabe goodman #six of crows #wylan van eck