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pandoraslxna · 1 year

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hi! first and foremost all of ur writing is GODSENT I’m hooked‼️ secondly, i saw ur requests were open and was wanting to see if you could write a neteyam smut where the reader is in heat and is completely insatiable so it leads to some thigh riding and it just isn’t making the cut so he just sits you on his face? and I love ur characterization so with lots of dialogue and him talking you through it pretty please🙏🏽 thank you for gifting us constantly !!

The heat that spreads

adult Neteyam x female avatar reader

Warnings: explicit smut, minors dni, thigh riding, oral, face sitting, praise kink, heat cycle

Words: 1.9k

Notes: thank you so much for your kind words they mean the world to me!! 😭🫶🏻 I had so much fun writing this skfjdks

Being a Na’vi had it’s perks.

The newly unlocked strength, heightened senses of smell, inhuman hearing and the agility of your avatar body— it was incredible! But there were still some things you had to get used to. One of these things being the monthly heat cycle every female Na’vi goes through, once their bodies are fully developed. It’s a blessing and a curse. You still haven’t figured out when exactly it happens, you just know that it’s not regular and therefore usually comes as a surprise. But you and your mate are trying to make the best out of it.

Right now, you’re sitting on Neteyam thigh, helping him braid his hair, when it suddenly hits you. It starts with a strange yet familiar feeling in your stomach, a warmth that spreads from your lower abdomen right into your lap. It tingles. Makes your head feel dizzy and clouded. You can feel your pupils dilate, senses on high alert as you inhale your mates scent. Neteyam smells like rain, fresh cut grass and tree bark. "What’s wrong?", he tilts his head, some of his braids lazily fall over his shoulder and you swallow thickly. He caresses your cheek with his big hand, thumb gently brushing over your bottom lip. "'Teyam", it comes out as a whine and you blush, "I- I think I‘m starting my…" Neteyams eyes widen. Has it been a month already? He thinks back to the last time with a smug grin on his face, when the two of you couldn’t leave the nest for nearly three days.

You try to clench your thighs together for some friction but it’s impossible with Neteyams leg inbetween them. You curse the position your in, but then he shifts under you, the muscle of his thigh brushes against your clit and you gasp.

You don’t even mean to, but your body has a mind of its own and you slowly start grinding yourself against his thigh. "Please", you beg for his touch, "C-Can we, uhm…" Your eyes point to the weaved sleeping matt, that you two share, across the marui pod. A contented purr of your name rumbles in his chest, your toes curling into the soles of your feet as your name drips from his tongue like warm honey. "Keep doing that", he chuckles and guides your hips to keep moving, "We‘ll get to mating soon, my sweet girl. Now I just want to help you get to your release. The first of many." His words aren’t just promises, they’re vows. He enjoys the days of your heat more than anything, willing to bend you in every possible position until you’re finally satisfied. His stamina seemingly increased during these times, thanks to a certain hormone only the female’s mate could smell.

You whimper softly, the tips of your ears burning with an intense heat as you stare up at your mate through lidded eyes. Neteyams words sent your heart a flutter, stomach bunching into a tight knot as your nerves tingle like a live wire.

You felt small sitting on his thigh, dwarfed by his much larger stature as you struggle to stay seated. You can feel the heat pooling rapidly in the pit of your stomach, heart beating hard against your ribs and pounding loudly in your ears as your breaths come out in short, rough pants. Your pussy clenches around nothing and it almost drives you insane. It hurts.

You experiment with different paces and pressures, trying to figure out the best way to get yourself off. It doesn’t take very long to find out what works best for you.

"You're dripping all over my thigh,” Neteyam notes amused. He’s mesmerized by the sight of you using him for your own pleasure.

You take a deep, shuddering breath, tongue darting over your dry lips as you swallow around the lump in your throat.

"'Teyam," you wail, voice turning into a whine laced with tiny hiccups. "It’s, fuck, it’s not enough… It hurts, I want to– need to cum so bad."

"I know, little one. You're doing so well for me", he praises, with his fingers digging into your hips he helps you move faster and cause more and more friction. Neteyam then tenses the muscles of his thigh, which completely changes the feeling. It’s so much harder now, the friction a lot more satisfying. "Better?"

You nod frantically, incapable of forming a coherent response.

Every rock of your hips is bringing you a jolt of pleasure. It feels so euphoric that you find yourself never wanting it to end. Everything‘s being stimulated with each buck of your hips and small shivers shot up your spine every time you brush your clit against his muscles.

You were growing wetter by the second, so much so that a wet patch was beginning to form on his skin. Which was making it easier and even more pleasurable for you to glide yourself up and down his thigh. When you brush your clit once more, you really couldn’t help the loud moan that left your lips.

"You’re close already, aren’t you? My sweet girl is going to cum just from grinding herself on my thigh", Neteyam chuckles teasingly and his intense eye contact is too much for you. You shy away from him but his free hand reaches for your face, thumb and forefinger digging into your jaw as he tilts your chin up. "No, you keep looking at me with those pretty eyes or I’ll stop." You can feel his hot breath against your skin, every hair on the nape of your neck standing up at his close proximity. "D-Don’t stop, please! Please I’m so– so close Neteyam!" Your breathing wavered, hot, burning coil in your stomach threatening to snap as you tremble. He‘s in complete control of your movements, strong hands digging at your hip so hard, you know it’s going to bruise tomorrow. He moves your body along to the rhythm that you desire. Your face twists with pleasure as you moan with complete abandon, his name like a prayer on your lips as your wet pussy slides across his thigh. Neteyam hums, voice deep and thick as he speaks to you in a hushed whisper. "It’s okay, little one. You can cum, let go for me."

You don’t hesitate to obey his command, the coil in your stomach shattering into a million pieces as your orgasm violently courses through you. Your body trembles and you scream your mates name with pure bliss, clinging to him like your life depends on it. Your movements falter, fingers numb as you hold tight onto his shoulders and what little sanity you had left. Neteyam forces you to ride out the waves of your pleasure high, pressing his leg hard against your clit until you beg for him to stop, crying that’s it’s too much but not enough at the same time. If he keeps that rhythm up, you’re sure you would immediately cum again.

Your legs are shaking and you pitch forward, burying your head against his board chest and seeking the warmth of his skin. His sturdy grip on you slowly eases, fingers gently threading through your braided hair and his other hand caressing your back to soothe the erratic beating of your heart. You hum with content as you press your ear against his chest, listening to his thundering heartbeat as you try to regain control of your breathing.

"How do you feel, my love?", he kisses the top of your head.

It doesn’t take long for the familiar heat to return to your core, spreading like a wild fire and you hide your blushing face in his chest. "Wasn’t enough", you mumble and it’s barely above a whisper. "Hm, I thought so", Neteyam grins, "my desperate little mate." You don’t even know what’s happening at first, as he maneuvers you into a new position. When your eyes fly open, you find your mate almost flat on the ground, laying right below you and with his head resting between your thighs. Your eyes widen when he playfully bites down onto the soft flesh of your thigh, careful not to actually hurt you with his canine. His hot breathe fans over the wet skin of your cunt and you shiver. "Neteyam, what are you–" He leans forward to place a sudden kiss right on your clit and you choke on your words. "Sit down", he demands and his words alone make you weak in the knees. One of his hands cups your ass and the other one your hip, with his three long fingers digging into your skin he supports you, pulls you down closer to where he licks his lips, ready to consume his favorite meal. You do as you’re told, carefully lowering yourself to sit on his face and immediately, his tongue darts out to lick a stripe from your dripping entrance to your clit.

He moans at your taste, at the way you fist your hands in his hair to anchor him so you can rut against his face. Against his nose and those puffy lips, so roughly that you can feel his head moving with the force of your hips. And yet he’s moaning uncontrollably, gasping and groaning your name and between slurps and sucks.

He’s a voracious pussy eater. Tireless, hungry, eager to please, but most of all responsive even though he’s nearly smothered under your weight as you ride his face.

"Holy shit— oh, fuck, 'Teyam you’re gonna make me cum again!"

His mouth and his tongue work overtime, swirling around your clit. Suckling on your lips. Sticking his tongue as far into you as he possibly can, ignoring his aching jaw to lick up every little drop of your delicious juices. Smothering himself and shortening his breath from stuffing his nose into your mound to reach as far into you as he can. And then– then, Neteyam does the one thing that he knows you absolutely love.

Taking a hand off your hip, he slips two of his fingers into your soaking wet cunt and curls them just right. Pairing powerful strokes of his hand with long sucks of his mouth, he coaxes you over the edge with such familiarity and such confidence that it takes your breath away. Literally.

"Neteyam!” You gasp, hands fisting in his hair and pulling as your thighs snap tight around his head. Your orgasm almost takes you out, it makes you shake like the leaves of a tree in a storm, your muscles jumping and spasming and making you twitch uncontrollably until it plateaus into complete, white-out inducing bliss. His fingers keep pumping in and out of you through the clamping of your walls, stretching out your orgasm until you’re slumping down ever so slowly, your body slowly going limp from the incredible pleasure.

With a gentle tap to your thigh, you untangle yourself from your mate, lifting your hips from his face. He’s glistening with your slickness and it makes you flustered. When he sits up, your eyes immediately fall on the outline of his hard and painfully neglected cock under his loincloth. It makes you swallow almost hungrily.

He grins at you, palming himself over the thin cloth as he repositions himself once again. With a hand flat on your chest he gently lays you down and then sits on his heels, right between your thighs. "Satisfied yet?", he tilts his head and licks his lips clean. You shake your head no and he chuckles. "What do you want? Talk to me, my sweet girl and I’ll do whatever you want."

"More. Please, I want… more."

#avatar 2 #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar #avatar the way of water #neteyam x reader #neteyam x female reader #awow #avatar way of water #atwow #･｡ﾟ☆: *my works* :☆ﾟ.

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mari-the-bimbo · 1 month

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Husband Higuruma

A/N: Kinda fantasising about this fine ass man so naturally I gotta write about him 🤭 Enjoy! <33

Oh the way this man adoresss you. His saving grace from the continuous painful cycle of surviving a capitalist economy.

Spoils you to no end. Of course you live in a massive comfortable house where all your makeup, hair, nails and every other luxuries is cared for. And being the humble man he is, he’ll simply shrug his shoulders and kiss you when you thank him for all the gifts.

I know everyone sees him as a easy going man but I can totally see him being a mean flirt.

“I’m so tired” he’ll say, “me too!” You reply as you straddle him, “Aw is procrastinating hard baby?” he replies as he wraps an arm around your waist, you tut in annoyance and try to move his hand away but his hand doesn’t budge, “shut up Hiro!”, “make me” he’ll quickly retorts with a chuckle when you hit his chest in retaliation.

But don’t get me wrong, he’s still a massive simp for you. This man does not play when it comes to you, he is at your every beck and call. “Hiro can you give me a back massage?” “Yes ma’am”

The second the lawyer walks through the door, his tired eyes scan the area for his pretty princess. A small smile graces his face as he watches you skip towards him in your skimpy pyjama romper.

“Come here beautiful” he says as he stretches out his arms.

He doesn’t like undressing himself it’s so much more fun when you help him. It starts with you on your tip toes loosening his tie as he kisses your neck as a thank you, which soon turns into something more as you reach for his blazer, then his shirt, then his trousers.

“Where’s your hands going angel?” He’ll ask amusedly without taking his eyes off your figure. And he knows it’s over for him when you stare up at him with big hopeful eyes as you pretend innocence “hm? Just helping you undress handsome” you lie, and he chuckles knowing he’ll give in to your trap willingly.

“Careful sweetheart, don’t start something you can’t finish” he warns but when you giggle in response and decide to hook a finger into his boxers, he’s done with self control.

And that’s how you find yourself getting railed in the bathtub. Water splashes out of the tub with every thrust from the much larger man pounding into you, his fat throbbing cock deep inside you. You whine “o-oh Hiro~” and attempt to grasp his broad shoulder for stability goes in vain, because this man is a beast when he is pussy hungry, “so fucking good” he praises in your ear, nudging your cheek with his Roman nose when you blush. The sloppy squelches from your pussy had hiromi’s eyes rolling back before both of you cum, hot ropes of his thick cum eventually leaks out of you. But that’s okay, because he’s going to make you lick it up in a sec.

So yeah.. quite an experience dating hiromi huh? ;)

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diorcities · 9 months

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⠀ ⠀ ── ꪔ̤̥ ꪔ̤̮ ꪔ̤̫ nct dream on did you just . . . !

SMUT

mark has trouble sleeping every night due to his heavy workdays. his body seems to possess enough energy to keep him awake even when you know he's exhausted. so you ride him, slow, passionate. in search of his tense body to relax enough and he can go to the planet of dreams. howling him with the swing of your pelvis against his, rolling his length with your pussy while his hands venture to your breasts, pinching your erect nipples. but he's now more awake than ever.

seeing you so majestic, on top of him, your holy beauty, he cannot believe you're his. with your soft skin, and your soft breasts where he wants to dig his teeth. mark everything and show off as a trophy with others. feeling your pussy take him so well, fucking him so well. squeezing and clenching in intervals against his cock, wrapping yourself so tightly around his length, hearing the lewd movement of your pussy when he penetrates you.

mark looks at you from below with frowning eyebrows and shiny eyes, and a tingling sensation overwhelms you from head to toe, pulling your head back when pleasure runs through you and fills you with bliss, before you feel him pushing deeper and starting to pulse. you stop moving on top of him as he frees himself inside the condom while his fingers bury themselves in your hips, then his cheeks turn with blush as he realizes he was very, very fast. “did you just cum?”

long make-out sessions with chenle surely will drive you crazy. feeling his firm hands on your jaw so your head stays still, drinking your moans as his tongue swirl with yours. warm and sharpy breath hitting your face when he speeds up the pace of his rough thrusts, forcing you to wrap your legs behind his back while he shoves it in and out, sensing your narrow walls wrapping his dick just right. “look at you, so dumb for my cock,” he says with a sharpy breath while pounding you and sending you to subspace.

you are in a pure state of ecstasy, trying to soothe the knot in your stomach that grips your crotch. moaning and whining to release the fire that burns your insides, your nails bury themselves in the fresh skin of his back, and chenle growls, feeling the fissures that appease the wild feeling of seeing you under him so beautiful, watching your eyes roll when the intensity of his hammering increases, feeling your walls pulsate erratically.

your body aches when a flare of pleasure takes your breath away and your mind fogs up. a silky sensation melts in your belly and is released in pulsations outside of you, “o-oh, shit,” you scream, feeling him tense and slow his thrust until it's just a swing of hips against yours. you drown out a wail and open your eyes, gazing at chenle and the stars dancing around him, looking at the place where your bodies connect. “well, look at that,” he sighs, “did you just squirt?”

there is something fascinating about jeno after he trains. he comes overflowing with an essence when he gets covered in sweat that stirs your senses. you can blame your lunar cycle for that; you've always been fond of astrology, but there was a more raw feeling, of seeing him sweating while relentlessly fucking you that had nothing to do with your lunar humors. he looks at you in surprise when you drag him after he's showered to his computer chair, pulling down his pajama shorts and being surprised to see his cock ready for you. “i was also thinking about you, my love.”

jeno suppresses a hiss when he sees you stuff it full into your warm, moist mouth. sensing your delicate fingers feel the base and massage it while you go up to the tip and roll your tongue into his slit. sensitive endings cause him to startle in the seat and his features contract, and you smile with his cock still in your mouth, at knowing that. you savor his soft, thick cock under his gaze.

fleshy lips girding around his girth, tongue flat against his length, teeth rubbing against the sensitive skin, making the hiss finally come out of his lips. “f-fuck, doll. did you just bite it?”

your body twists beneath renjun as he penetrates you rhythmically, and your heartbeat does not take long to catch up, feeling him hammer you slow and deep, your body plunges into a wave of pleasure that leaves you numb and breathless. his cock buries itself and you drown out a scream, jaw tense as your head lolls back and your body arches towards him with an invisible force. completely in limbo, you try to avoid breaking free because it feels so good. filling you with pleasure with an overwhelming sensation that causes you to look at him while you free your climax.

renjun feels your walls wrapping him tighter and pulse as orgasm bathes your features. and you've never looked that breathtaking. noticing your legs wrapping around his waist so he can bury deeper and touch that sweet spot that makes you see stars and bite your lips the way you're doing right now.

your body undergoes spasms that decrease more and more until the sensation that squeezes your stomach is released and extinguished, leaving you craving for more. you spread your shaking legs for him in time when your eyes open to see him with his phone pointed at his cock still buried inside you. you exhale a laugh before he hovers over you and resumes the enveloping movement of his pelvis, “did you just take a picture?” he throws one of your legs over his shoulder and kisses you with passion, “can you blame me if i did when you look so good fucked?”

haechan leaves your body vibrating and in limbo to hover over you and draw a path of wet kisses from your stomach to your crotch. his hands wrap around your ankles and force you to flex your numb legs, opening them to position himself between them. you feel his hot breath in your intimacy before he traces circles with his wet tongue over your swollen pussy, licking the cum from your pussy, and pushing the rest with his fingers back inside. you bite your lips at the overwhelming sensation that takes your breath away, still sensitive, burying your fingers in his brown curls while he buries his inside you.

he laughs, seeing the effect he has on you. completely dazed by the way he fucks you. tasting so good after he made sure you cum enough times to be this brainwashed. seeing your body contorted twitching while covered in sweat that he sure licked. now, your silky arousal sends him towards the edge of jubilee, sweet, while his available hand squeezes and feels your belly vibrate when he licks your clit and shoves his fingers into you. “you look craving, baby,” he says in a moan.

his mouth leaves your intimacy and you already long for him, pulling you out of your slumber to see him direct his teeth towards the soft skin of your thigh. you drown out a hiss that sends a torrent of pleasure that eventually releases around your fingers. you could ask him but your tongue feels heavy and your throat pasty, but, did he just bite you?

your body tries to react to stimuli but you can't do it, letting jaemin use your body as he pleases, putting you in the positions he likes best, becoming his fuckdoll. feeling his arms hold you and forcing you to arch your back again whenever your shaky body hits the mattress, completely ecstatic at the way his cock expands your sensitive, throbbing walls for another round. cock hammering relentlessly, taking your breath away and clouding your senses.

jaemin sees you, and feels you around his cock, pulsing. watching your body succumb to his girth burying him and stimulating your intimacy even more. small hands making fists the sheets under your bodies. he wants to be so rough with you, just so you can scream and roll your eyes like that more. feeling your epitome slide and wet his dick tingling to break free inside you. covered with your silkiness and precum that forms a nice creamy ring at the base of his girth. pressing his palm to bend you more, he speeds up ecstatic at the sight of your butt trembling from his frantic thrusts. mesmerized that he doesn't realize that the firm grip on his wrist loosens after he feels your walls clenching again. so he hovers over you without stopping his ruthless motion to check on you.

he looks your drowsy eyes blink and your mouth spilling a silent pant, “did you just faint, princess?”

jisung shifts over you, burying his face in the crook of your neck. you feel him breathe your scent as he pushes his pelvis in, dick shoving deeper. you suppress a groan. eyes rolling back from the smooth sensation exploding in your belly. jisung and you moan in unison. running his hands below your knees, he bends his arm and pulls your legs, shorting the minimum distance separating your bodies. his pleading eyes gleam because of his cock being stimulated by you constantly clenching around him. his eyes close, squeezes, and hiss. he's so close. but not yet, seems to say your actions when you caress his hair. he pulls you closer into a kiss, and it seems to say, please, not yet.

jisung feels a blaze of fire tense his stomach and descend like a stream of pleasure to his nerve endings. staring into your eyes, watching you roll your eyes and moan that way while his cock pounds you mercilessly, hard and increasing the intensity at times, and slow and deep, rocking his hip against you, making you sigh as his world spins. he cannot hold back anymore. your walls wrapped around him, feeling you completely raw, he can't help but accelerate his thrusts and make you scream.

he shifts again, to gain more control. pushing against you, making you sigh and see constellations. arching your back in an involuntary movement of your body because you can't contain yourself, not when he's fucking you this good. a sweet sensation spills into you, and you hear jisung growl. “shit, sorry, baby.” but your head's in space and you barely connect dots when your body freezes and you writhe under his grip, releasing the euphoria in spasms, now feeling it gushing out. “did you just came inside?”

#nct dream smut #haechan smut #jeno smut #mark lee smut #park jisung smut #jaemin smut #renjun smut #chenle smut #nct dream hard hours #nct dream reactions #♡dream

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alastorss · 22 days

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𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑬 — 𝑨𝑳𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑶𝑹 𝑿 𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑫𝑬𝑹

𝑨𝑪𝑻 𝑰 — 𝑻𝑶 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑶𝑼𝑹 ☽ series masterlist | other works

syn. The Radio Demon gathers your wrist and presses kisses along your pulse, stopping when he feels it racing beneath his lips. Gently, he sinks his teeth into your flesh just above your vein, enough to draw a taste of blood, before lapping at the spillage like nectar.

He’ll let you frolic around in his daydreams a little longer—allow you to sip from the chalice and taste mortal life again. It would make your flesh all the sweeter when he finally digs in.

“You are strange,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you bite too hard,” you complain.

warnings: literal and metaphorical cannibalism, non-sexual biting, soul selling, blood and violence, co-dependency, probably slightly toxic relationship, alastor is a whole walking warning. wc: 5.7k

𝑰 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑳𝑳 𝑬𝑨𝑻 𝒀𝑶𝑼𝑹 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻

The Devil is beautiful beyond comparison.

Wrapped in silky red and black from head to toe; drenched in the colour and stench of blood; he’s dressed to the nines as if tonight will be his last. He stands seven feet tall—eight or nine if you trace all the way to the tips of his antlers now strung with the flesh and sinew of freshly slaughtered buffalo.

You think for a brief moment that he is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, hypnotized by the twirling of his cane. Only divinity could dare to be this breathtaking, yet here he is before you defying all heavensent rules. Unsure of whether you’ll ever stand so close yet so far from Heaven again, you reach out to touch him just to test if he is even real.

The Devil has a suave smile that makes his eyes crinkle in joy, teeth yellow and baring at you. A threat, you think, but you don’t care. His smile shrinks and grows in an endless cycle as you run a hand up and down the front of his coat, corduroy smooth beneath the pads of your fingers.

You recognize this look he’s giving you: who do you think you are? A filthy sinner begging The Devil for salvation? How pathetic.

And yet he seems equally entranced by your touch, as if you are the first. Somehow, he pierces you with his eyes but you can tell that he’s looking straight through you. A silly, powerless fool like you isn’t even worth his eyes.

Despite his apathy, he was the one who intervened with your early demise when he could have just as easily been on his merry way. Venison is best when fresh—that’s what he told the butcher. But it was spoiling in his hands the longer he stood there between you and the door, urging you to leave and simultaneously gluing you to the floor.

The Devil saved your life framed in the harsh red of the underworld.

Light pours in through the door he has blocked, illuminating his frame in warm shades of amber and crimson. His eyes shimmer in the shadow it casts on him, you realize. They glow like fireflies—yellow and flickering.

“You are wounded,” he suddenly points out as he towers over you. At first he seems taken aback by his own observation, as if he hadn’t meant to speak his thoughts into existence, but then it mellows into something along the lines of morbid amusement. Amused by your mortality—the mark of a demon.

Sinners were nothing more than sacks of meat and blood, after all. No less than they were when they were alive on Earth.

The question drifts dangerously through your mind: is he not a Sinner just as much as I am?

Static cracks in his throat, an eerie jazz tune faintly floating through the air, and you know then that you must be wrong. Regular Sinners do not know souls like the dozens you can hear screaming in the background of his smooth jazz.

“Help me. Please?” Your fingers dip into your wound and you cry out weakly in pain. His smile only grows.

Poor little lamb, so sweet and trusting. If he didn't know any better, he'd have thought you waltzed right into this shop knowing that the butcher wanted to flay you open.

“Unfortunately, I am not interested in…” He leans down so his face hovers just above yours. “Charity.”

From this angle, he can see the subtle widening of your eyes. The way your pulse jumps in your throat, deliciously afraid. You reek of fear and something else he can’t quite place. It makes him salivate.

The Devil is cold to the touch—death incarnate. You hadn’t noticed until your hands were on his face, his neck, lathering down his chest, nails raking deep marks into his skin.

“I’ll give you my soul.”

“I have plenty of souls, my dear. More than you could possibly imagine! What good would yours do in my collection, hm?”

Yes, what good would your soul be to someone like him? At the end of the day, your name would be drowned out by the endless sea of his other contracts. Forgotten and abandoned, the last piece of your identity. There’s only one way you could be more than those before you.

“I can do anything. I can be anything. Just name it.”

“Oh?” He hums with a raised brow, intrigued by the offer of the soul and body. “And if I said I wanted you to be my dinner tonight?”

You swallow nervously. “Then I would present myself to you on a silver platter.”

He laughs at this, clearly humoured by your answer. “You’ve got yourself a deal!”

And that is how it came to be: a lowly Sinner and an Overlord of Hell—forever intertwined by the messy entanglement of your souls.

Forevermore, you used to joke with your fingers braiding marigolds into his hair. Oh, how he misses that laughter so.

𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑬𝑽𝑰𝑳𝑺 𝑫𝑶

The four walls of Alastor’s radio station become your only friends.

You learn that there isn’t much to talk to besides the walls anyhow, since the microphone and anything else on Alastor’s sprawling desk is off limits. Even he himself is not around very often, sometimes disappearing for days on end and coming back stinking of rotten flesh and blood, of which you have become acquainted.

You also learn that he likes things in a particular way.

For example, you may only see your reflection once every day. I hate it when my food has an ego—that’s what he had told you once. And you are only allowed to eat whatever he hand-feeds you. That is the life of a pet, after all, and you are nothing but a glorified domestic animal he has chained to his wall.

One day passes and he does not devour you like he originally intended. Then two. Then five. Eventually, you lose space on the wall to make another tally mark, so you resort to counting in your head until you forget how to track time.

“Usually people take their dogs for walks,” you once jested to him after he signed off his morning broadcast and sat there staring at the wall for a while.

He only gazed at you lazily from across the room for a moment before rolling his chair over to you and tilting your head back by the chin. He dipped his thumb between your teeth until you chewed on him and told you:

“How convenient it is that you aren’t a dog, then!”

You never brought it up again, not because you were afraid of him swallowing you whole where you stood, but because he tasted of death itself and you would rather avoid having his thumb in your mouth.

The third thing you learn is that he’s not all that scary so long as he deems you entertaining and obedient enough. Overlords—that’s what Alastor calls the ones who own souls—come and go and usually never return.

You earn raised brows and questioning looks. He often challenges them with his eyes: go on, ask me! Ask about my new pet so I have a good enough reason to dirty my coat with your filth.

The ones who pipe up about your presence are the ones who end up as wavelengths in his show. Alastor is quite protective of his pets, you see. What’s his is his, and what isn’t will be his one day. In his own sadistic, twisted ways, he is actually quite a good owner.

You’ve learned the loneliness that comes with being his pet, too.

Loneliness so empty that it swallows your lungs until you can’t breathe. A loneliness that crushes your ribs to dust. The familiar hum of jazz music became your most cherished companion.

Solitude is a funny thing. It plays tricks on the mind, drives people mad. Even Alastor can’t be immune to it, in his defense. You wonder if that’s why he’s opted to do nothing but stare at you from his desk for the night.

Soft whispers and laughter fill the room, voices enchanting you with their poetry. They buzz from the demon’s radio which is perched by his head where it rests on the table.

The room is illuminated only by the tiny lamp on his desk and the artificial glow of moonlight. He has decided to grace you with several blankets after weeks of your complaints of the radio tower being too drafty. They’re wrapped unceremoniously around you.

“What?” You ask him from the sofa after he’s been staring for far longer than he usually would.

He offers you a moment of relief as he tears his eyes away from you, like he had not even realized he was staring so intensely. But then they’re back on you in an instant, boring through your soul.

The soul he owns.

“I’ve never…” He trails off, seeming as if he can’t decide whether or not you are worth conversation.

Your head tilts to the side in confusion, watching him carefully consider his next words. Finally, he goes back to listening to the whispers and chattering from his noisy radio, pretending as if you no longer exist.

You take the opportunity to observe. It’s not like you hadn't had chances to discreetly watch him before—you live under the heel of his boot, after all. But to see him off of his show, face tired and dark despite the permanent smile that paints it, something stirs in your chest.

The final thing you learn is that the only soul more lonely than yours is the one which belongs to the demon who holds your heart.

He keeps friends in his shows. Voices to keep him company. You suppose that before you showed up, there wasn’t much else to talk to, and Alastor is a man of habit. He never stopped collecting those voices, no. Not even with you right there.

Thinking back, you wonder if he ever went as mad as you did when he first brought you here. If he counted days on the walls he talked to. If he would sit in deafening silence after his broadcast ended until deciding he wanted venison for dinner.

If he ever appreciated your presence, even as nothing more than his pet.

It was the only explanation for your beating heart. Why he had not devoured you down to the marrow yet.

You slowly shimmy off the couch and drag the blankets along with you, trailing behind you like a cape. The sudden movement makes his head turn at lightning speed, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

His body is impossibly rigid—it’s the first thing you notice when you drop to your knees by his side to rest your chin on his thigh. Alastor’s claws are threading through your hair before he can stop himself, feeling your warmth beneath his palm.

A dog and their owner. Only this pair could know silent adoration this way.

It’s twisted, you think, that he still holds this spell over you. That he’s still the most beautiful being in all of Hell.

It doesn’t matter anymore, though. Without him, you were nothing more than a plate of dinner that sprouted legs to all the other demons. You may not have your soul, but for some reason, you find comfort being seen by a monster like him.

“You look ridiculous, darling.”

“It’s not my fault you keep me suspended twenty feet off the ground,” you grumble, eyes drifting shut under the gentle smoothing of your hair.

“That’s what the blanket is for!”

“You’re about… five months too late,” you deadpan.

If it were any other Overlord, such a badmouth would have gotten you eaten already. But he only chuckles in response, quiet and lovely.

A long beat of silence passes before realization crashes down on you. Your eyes fly open as you peer up at him in curiosity. His voice is missing its usual lively buzz of static, as if a switch had been turned off. He sounds…

“Beautiful,” you breathe.

The demon raises a brow at you in question. You quickly shake your head, embarrassed by your sudden declaration. His hand stops atop your head. Laughing at your flustered expression, he suddenly removes you from his lap to stand.

“Come. It’s a nice night for a walk.”

“A walk?” You repeat, dumbfounded.

Alastor smiles ear to ear.

“That’s what dogs do, is it not?”

𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑹𝑶𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑵 𝑫𝑶𝑮

The difference between you and Alastor is that the only soul you’ve ever known is your own.

You’ve memorized its shape, the way it flickers like a flame within your chest. Like it has its own tiny heartbeat—a separate being residing in your body. You know its colour and its tendency to leap when adrenaline courses through you. You know every part of it. Even then, it had taken all of your afterlife to grasp.

Alastor understands something you cannot.

He has long since memorized the collective weight of a thousand souls. The way they all sigh at once, like waves in the ocean bellowing and sinking.

He is an Overlord of Hell. Someone destined to be greater than you. You’ve known this all along.

He’d always been involved in shady business, coming back to the tower stinking of new souls, meat and booze. You remember that he once boasted about his skills in gambling.

“Isn't it just luck?” You asked.

He laughed at your question, “It’s never just luck, dear. That is why you sell souls, and I own them!”

You resented him for those words, even if they were true. Reminders that your soul was sitting in the palm of his hand. That your entire life was that tiny, flickering flame he could blow out at any moment.

At the same time, you were strangely relieved. Alastor offered you more than just protection. He gave you a home, regardless of how boring, and gifted you whatever your heart desired so long as you were obedient.

And no matter how much he denies it and pretends it isn’t so, he’s also a friend. A companion. You have the nights you’ve spent awake talking to him until sunrise to prove it.

Perhaps that is why ugly guilt bubbles in your stomach when you see his bloody body and the first thought you have is:

Does this mean my soul is free?

You’ve smelled blood before. At some point, it became a comforting scent. The smell of Alastor—the scent of home. But you had only smelled the blood of others as it stained his clothes and skin. Never the demon’s.

His shady business was bound to catch up with him eventually.

Your first reaction is to panic. To turn his body over and scour his torso with your hands until you find where the bleeding starts.

“Alastor? Alastor!” You call his name over and over to no avail.

Again, the terrible thought crosses your mind: I should leave him to die. But then he groans in pain, and the thought vanishes just as quickly as it came.

To wish for him to die after all he’s done—you couldn’t stomach that. You would be no better than he who owns souls for his own amusement.

He had stumbled all the way home in the end. To you. There had to be a reason for that. For him to crawl back to you despite his animal instincts.

“I’ll fix you,” you promise with shaking conviction.

You piece him back together with your own two hands, however clumsily. You’ve never stitched together skin before—only sewn fabrics and crocheted yarn that Alastor brought home to keep you entertained.

It’s disturbing how easily your needle threads together flesh. How it writhes under your touch and how much blood really comes out of it.

Alastor bleeds red.

For some reason, you had always thought that he didn’t bleed at all. But he does. He bleeds the same colours as those that stain his face when he returns from long nights out. It smells the same, too—nauseatingly metallic and rotten.

You do your best to piece him together fully, clean the wound, and bandage him up despite his weak efforts to struggle and the bile that pushes up your throat.

“Stop moving!” You yell in frustration.

This is the last thing Alastor remembers from that night: your arms flung around him to stop him from squirming around; your pounding heart pressed against his while you carefully pin him down whilst trying to avoid disturbing his wound; your lips beside his ear as you chant—please, just go to sleep.

When he wakes in the morning, he’s delirious.

At first, he isn’t sure why he’s asleep on the sofa. Your sofa, as you’ve claimed. His head lolls to to face the window to gauge the time of day.

Bright morning light sears his eyes and momentarily blinds him. Groaning, Alastor brings his hand up to cover his eyes. There’s a sudden white hot pain from that action that shocks his system awake.

He hisses, body involuntarily curling in on itself to ease the pain, but it only exacerbates it.

His hand changes route from shielding his eyes to feeling for the spot where it hurts the most. To his horror, he can feel bandages sloppily wrapped where his skin should be.

“The… Hell?” He mutters, trying to push himself onto his elbows to see his stomach better. But he freezes halfway up, propped back on his elbows when he finally catches sight of you.

You’re seated on the floor with your head in your arms, seemingly sound asleep by his side despite the ruckus he’s caused.

The demon slowly pieces the puzzle together, eyes drifting to the trail of blood smeared from the door to where you’re sitting. He assumes the sofa under him fares no better than his floor, and he groans in disgust.

He takes a minute to stare at the ceiling, trying to remember whatever else he can from last night. But the ache deep in his skin is too pressing to ignore, and eventually he returns to moaning and hissing in agony. Again, he turns his head to you.

You look peaceful this way. Drool pricks at the corner of your lips and as mundane as it is, Alastor can’t help but be a little endeared.

It’s strangely human. You are strangely human.

One hand falls atop your head and the other on his bandages as he watches you slumber. Perhaps it was in your human nature to help him, your terrible captor, when you could have just as easily left him for dead.

You look like an angel basking in the orange glow of the Underworld. His saviour. Beautiful and human.

Fondness boils in his stomach at the idea and he quickly retracts his touch, instead laying an arm over his eyes.

It’s too bright. He can’t think straight.

He considers counting this as an eye for an eye. Your life for his. It would only be fair to set you free now that you’re even.

Dread creeps up his spine at the thought of spending his days in lonely silence once more. You were originally meant to be nothing more but a companion for entertainment. But he was growing quite attached to you as pathetic as it was.

He had gotten used to your witty remarks and dry humour. The way you laugh before you tease him. How you sit on the floor and rest your chin on his thigh even though he’s told you before that his lap is available. And he finds your flustered and exasperated expression after his comments to be more amusing than death.

It would be a shame for it all to end, even if it were the right thing to do. He’s a demon, after all. Hell was for those who knew right from wrong and still became Sinners.

His silent reverie is interrupted by your shuffling. You groggily straighten up, blearily wiping the sleep from your eyes. It takes a minute for the realization to kick in, but when it does, you’re blinking at him in bewilderment.

You’re on top of him in seconds, clinging to his neck and wailing like a child. He hisses in pain, doing his best to sit upright for you and grimacing though his smile.

“You’re okay!” You exclaim, hugging him tighter and tighter.

“Darling—” He grunts, trying to shimmy away from you despite the warmth blooming in his chest. “My stitches!”

You scramble away from him, retreating as if he’d bitten you. Your back hits the other end of the sofa by the time he sits up. “I’m so sorry! I just…”

He watches as your face dims considerably. His heart drops to his stomach for a reason he can’t explain.

“I thought you were going to die,” you whisper. It’s followed by sniffles, and he can tell even without looking that you’ve broken out into tears.

“Come now, dear. Don’t cry. I’m very much alive, thanks to you.”

You nod, using your sleeves to pathetically wipe at your cheeks.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” you quietly admit with an embarrassed laugh.

Alastor also can’t explain the relief that floods him at that moment. Relief that you’re smiling. That you’re still by his side. That he’s alive. That you saved him.

If he had died, would you have blamed yourself? Even if he hadn’t returned home, would you have waited by the door for him until your soul came back to you?

Would you be sad then, too?

It’s a strange feeling that rises in his throat. He’s never been so grateful to be alive before.

“But you did it,” he tells you. “See?”

You nod again. From the other end of the couch, he can see your shoulders relaxing. It settles him, too—calms his fraying nerves.

He understands, then, the spell you have cast over him in return. He would do anything to see that smile.

Trust is not his forte. Demons are not to be trusted.

However, he can’t help but think that you’d save him over and over again if you needed to. And at that moment, he swears you have a halo glowing atop your head.

An angel in a Sinner’s world.

𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑴𝑶𝑵𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹, 𝑳𝑰𝑲𝑬 𝑨 𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑻

You wake up to the familiar stench of blood, as you do most mornings.

It isn’t what makes you jolt awake. Rather, it’s the other smell wafting through the air. Mixed with the iron sting is the soft smell of flowers and the deep earthiness of grass and soil. Stirring, you blink the blurriness out of your eyes and take in your surroundings.

Dewy grass pricks at your palms as you sit up. The outline of your body has flattened the moss down and packed it into the earth, downy shrubbery now crushed beneath you.

Alastor sips at his mug, lips nursing the rim as he watches you slowly wake over the top of his newspaper.

“Someone slept well,” he sings with a cheshire smile, ears flopping from one side to the other with the movement of his head. You blink at him from the ground, legs curled under you.

“Where are we?”

“My room, darling.”

You take another look around. A gentle breeze shakes the trees weeping with leaves and vines, tousling the branches so they appear to dance in the wind. You’ve learned never to be surprised when it comes to this demon. He’s a bottomless well of them, after all.

“It doesn’t look like a room,” you observe flatly. He only laughs, shaking his paper flat to continue skimming through the morning column. Dissatisfied by his lack of an answer, you press on

“Does your room come with air conditioning? It’s too humid.”

Alastor snorts. “I prefer it when my dinner marinades without complaint.”

“It’s been months and you have yet to eat me up for dinner,” you point out.

“Tonight will be the night,” he replies nonchalantly, as if it were just any other day. You can’t help but notice the slightest hesitation in his conviction. Like he hasn’t yet made up his mind.

Silence follows his statement and you can only stare at him in response. After he shows no signs of elaborating, you sink back down to the earth with a thud and a sigh. Watching the dark, eerie sky as clouds float by, you pipe up again.

“The sky’s dark. Isn’t it morning?”

“I prefer the night. Calming, isn’t it?”

Your nose scrunches up into a playful sneer. “The big, scary shadow man loves the dark. Who knew?”

“Sarcasm isn’t very cute on you, my dear.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan. “I think I’m hilarious.”

The Radio Demon sets down his paper and peers at you from his seat at the garden table, chin propped on his knuckles. “Entertaining, yes. Hilarious? Not quite.”

“It’s apparently my last day alive,” you grumble, rolling over onto your side so your back is turned to him. “Let me have this.”

Your eyes drift shut as another breeze washes over you. The smell of grass and mossy waters—you never thought you’d have the chance to remember what this was like. What it’s like to be alive. How it feels to have grass between your toes and listen to the distant cries of insects and birds.

When you blink your eyes open again, you expect it all to vanish. To be back in Alastor’s radio tower, banished to your own little corner where he can watch you and entertain himself. To feel the rattle of the chain around your neck while he pulls you closer just to have a taste of your soft flesh.

But when you finally allow your surroundings to sink in again, you’re met with nothing but open night skies freckled with globs of stars. It feels free. You had forgotten what that felt like, too.

“I don’t enjoy it when my dinner feels sentimental, either,” he suddenly hums. You roll onto your back, head lolling to the side so you can glare at him. Slowly pushing yourself up, you haunch back on your palms with your legs outstretched toward the flowing water.

“I’m not sentimental,” you argue.

“Oh? Is that so?”

You scoff in lieu of a proper reply. On your hands and knees you drag yourself toward the luminescence hovering just above the water. You come so close that your hands sink deep into the mud of the riverbank, surely dirtying your clothes in the process.

Fireflies swirl in the air and make the surface of the water shimmer like the stars in the sky above you. You carefully collect a firefly between your muddy palms.

It flicks around in a panic, knocking against the tiny cage you’ve built with your hands until it finally settles down in defeat. You can’t help but feel a little sorry for it.

Trapped. Like you.

Alastor watches you curiously, your face dimly illuminated by the glow of the firefly. He’d usually prefer enjoying his swamp alone, but in a final act of mercy had decided to allow you in just this once. Perhaps he had made a mistake, however. There was a reason he killed swiftly.

He never did like getting attached to his food.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

The demon blinks at you. “Fireflies?”

You shake your head.

“Life.”

But it’s not alive, he wants to say. This is all just a grandiose daydream, after all. Soon enough you’ll offer yourself up to him and he’ll devour you without second thought. The dream will end and reality will come crashing down.

He’ll be alone again, the way a monster like him deserves to be.

He slowly rises from his seat and makes his way to your side. Sinking to his knees, mud cakes his pants and his coat. You look at him in confusion, hands unclasping to release the insect to the wild once more.

“Are you that impatient for dinner?” You ask jokingly, albeit with a shake of nervousness underneath.

The Radio Demon gathers your wrist and presses kisses along your pulse, stopping when he feels it racing beneath his lips. Gently, he sinks his teeth into your flesh just above your vein, enough to draw a taste of blood, before lapping at the spillage like nectar.

You suck in a sharp breath, perfectly still beside him. Your free hand comes up to cup his face carefully, causing him to release his bite. Thumb smearing mud along his cheekbone, you look at him in wonder.

It causes him to withdraw, recoiling from you as if you just burned him. The weight of your eyes is too heavy—like you know every part of him at just a glance. He loves being the center of attention, but with you it’s too much.

You always did look at him like he was beautiful. Like he was life itself.

He can see it in every inch of your expression—some kind of twisted longing. It awakens something burrowed deep in his stomach, primal and wanting.

For all these decades he had been utterly alone. And for once in his afterlife, he had felt what it was like to be wanted. To be worshipped.

Does it really have to end so selfishly?

He’ll let you frolic around in his daydreams a little longer—allow you to sip from the chalice and taste mortal life again. It would make your flesh all the sweeter when he finally digs in.

“You are strange,” he murmurs against your skin.

“And you bite too hard,” you complain.

He only licks at your wound apologetically.

𝑶𝑷𝑬𝑵. 𝑹𝑨𝑽𝑨𝑮𝑬. 𝑬𝑨𝑻.

The word devotion does not exist in Alastor’s dictionary. The fiery depths of Hell incinerated whatever meaning it held for him long ago.

Nothing is forever—that’s what his mother said to him with a quiver in her voice and trembling fingers captured in his. Her final words to him, not that he was all that sentimental about it anymore.

If you took a peek into Alastor's heart, you might expect to find some select choices of rye from the speakeasies he danced at in his youth. Or perhaps you would see the endless bog of contracts for every soul he owned, the names signed on them lost as if they were nothing more than grains of sugar in his coffee.

He does not know how to love.

To be honest, he can’t quite remember if he ever learned how to love in life. He remembers what it was like to have his head in his mothers lap after he quit his first job, sobbing pathetically while she hummed to him about how proud she still was. He remembers running his hands over the smooth wooden desk of his radio station in New Orleans, the feel of fresh lacquer under his fingers.

Love was not something foreign to him. He was surrounded by it—the way rye burned in his chest; the feeling of his mother’s hands in his hair; the smell of coffee and wood lacquer. And even in death, he was surrounded by love. By you.

The scent of your blood. The vulnerability of your skin and how easily he could pierce it with his claws. You were fragile and sweet, something strange in a place permanently stained with blood and reeking of death.

Before he had memorized the pattern of your snores, or the way you cradle his face when he bites you like an untamable beast, or the racing of your pulse beneath his lips, amusement was all he ever pursued. His next plaything, whatever would keep him entertained until they inevitably joined his broadcast.

But you had overwritten his heart too long ago to remember what that was even like. The thought of your voice screaming in the back of his show only makes his stomach turn until he feels like he is about to vomit.

The thought of losing you—his single treasure in the underworld—was more than he could bear. Amusement and a good meal were not worth your life.

Once, too many moons ago to count, you had promised yourself to him on a silver platter. In all that time you had kept him company, regardless of your sarcastic quips and your disinterest in his hobbies of killing for fun. You had become something worth cherishing. Worth protecting.

He hadn’t accounted for the fact that the only one he needed to protect you from the most was himself.

Here's what you would really see if you looked into Alastor's heart: you, with your jaw slack and eyes squeezed shut so tight that your brows are furrowed. Blood—lots of blood—spilling from your skin like liquid gold.

You, and those tears that he hates so fucking much. Don't cry, he would tell you, and you would listen to him because you adore him. Your flesh between his teeth as he sinks them deeper, plunging his fangs into your skin. A devouring so slow that it's agonizing, and finally your blissful little sigh.

He loves you so much that it aches, that it burns in his stomach. He's ashamed of it, of your effect on him—the spell he can't break.

No, that's wrong. He doesn't love you. At least, he doesn't think he does. Monsters do not love.

That's why you are being swallowed up whole, isn't it? Because he's a monster?

Your hands collect his face just as his mind starts to wander. You gaze at him so softly, so tenderly, as if he isn't all claws and teeth and blood soaked antlers. He wonders if you even realize what's in your arms.

"Alastor..."

His name is a whisper of a prayer on your lips—sweet and beautiful like you. If he could devour you like this he would, just to immortalize you. The iron stench of blood fills his nostrils as you cradle him.

Ah, he's gone too far.

Slowly, he laps up the blood trickling down your skin. A silent apology. And you forgive him—you always do. It's just in your nature to trust monsters. To trust him.

"I love you."

He realizes, then. He's no monster in your eyes. He's just the devil. A beautiful, charming demon who you signed your soul away to.

Alastor doesn't say it back, but he loves you. He's sure he does. He would love you into flame if he could.

☽

notes: this series was inspired by this post from like 2 months ago that i finally got around to!! shoutout to too sweet by hozier and morbid cannibalism poetry on pinterest for getting me through this

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it @dilemmaiscool @concentratedconcrete @squiword7 @clarakainda @princekeerys @iicarused @lillylovesalastorsm1 @veroneverleft (send an ask to be added to the taglist!)

#forevermore — ☁︎#alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor x you #alastor fanfiction #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfic #alastor hazbin x reader #🍓 faye's thoughts <3

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neptunes-sol-angel · 6 months

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BOO! 👻🎃🕸 How are you scaring people with their shadows? Pick the picture(s) that you're drawn to the most then scroll down for the corresponding message(s). Happy Halloween my Sol-cherubs!!

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Pile One

"SHE AIN'T NO DIVAAA!"

You trigger others in a way that threatens their confidence and provoke them into a cycle of evaluating their self worth and identity after an ego death that's probably been long overdue. Some people in this group may hinder themselves back from speaking to people about anything in general, like expressing your opinion on something, talking about yourself, joining in a conversation so that you can be outgoing and network with others because you could feel like developing normal interactions with others is difficult for you. You could feel that people may find what you have to say as meaningless, they could even talk over you, or maybe you fear that people will hate you for what you say. You could also find yourself in too many situations where people are dedicated to misunderstanding you by twisting what you say or snubbing you. But despite their reactions, people strongly value what you say, and are often changed personally by even just a few words that you mention and could still think about what you've said years later whether it's from a normal conversation or an argument. I feel called to mention to this group that you shouldn't restrain yourself by muting your verbal expression in order to please others, because I'm getting that even though you aren't aware that there are people who want to listen and do listen to what you have to say and will like and respect you for who you are, you understand the weight of your words and the repercussions you face when you defend yourself and but there are times you don't in order to keep the peace. You must understand that peace is simply an illusion when you keep putting your feelings and wellbeing aside to keep people that are not even for you in your life. Tip toeing around others is not what's going to keep you safe—you gotta step on some toes to free yourself. This group has to learn both when it isn't your fault for when you trigger someone and when it is. Because I'm getting that another part of this group is more so in the darker aspect of this trait, you don't hold your tongue for anyone and when someone goes low, you go to straight to the pits of hell. You're fully aware of how you know just the right words to break someone and to intentionally offend them. Your brutal honesty isn't needed all of the time and sometimes you're not being blunt, you're just being an asshole. Reserve your poison for the people that deserve it, but it will benefit you to learn that the same way the magnitude of your words can be poison to others it also be venom used to help others heal. I know it may feel like that someone's always trying it with you but you gotta calm down and start seeing the good in humanity, because not everyone is a piece of filth that you need to sweep. The shadow work that you make other people do eventually creates a balance that keeps their egos in check and where their humility is holding them back.

Pile Two

What's chilling about you is how elusive you are. This can mean a variety of things, but one of the scenarios that I'm getting is that this pile could be adamant when it comes to holding grudges. People hate that you don't forgive them because it gives them a reality check with how entitled they feel to treat others and how they expect them to react about it afterwards. You seem to unfortunately attract a lot of people that don't take any accountability. They show up as either someone who feels like they have the right to mistreat others and have control over how their victims feel or perceive the situation or people who have lived their entire lives as victims but are in disbelief when they are in situations where they have made someone else a victim so they manipulate the situation to confirm their bias and lack of self awareness. These people are possessive over outcomes and how they want to be seen. You are very much capable of forgiving others, but you are strong with your boundaries to the point where you don't make yourself accessible anymore to the people have hurt you and this confuses them. They're used to thinking that words have more meaning than their actions or that forgiveness is something that's automatically given when asked for it, but you show them that's not exactly how it works. This makes them have to unpack guilt that they will deal with for a very long time or your absence reminds them of how powerless that they feel. Both are situations that are hard to sit with alone so these people may tend to latch on others and surround themselves with company. The shadow work that you make others do is to reflect on situations where they are habitually self-undoing.

Pile Three

What makes other people shook about you, is how unmoved you are but how you always seem to ironically move others. You could have this radical intelligence and self sufficiency where you don't care who's on your level or not. You could be isolated by others a lot, and on the outside it could look like you're out of touch with humanity, but no, you're actually way ahead of your time, they just need to catch up. The same things that people have tried to shun you for, end up becoming trends in the future. You guys are very secure with yourself and it intimidates others, but you've grown or will grow to not let that effect you anymore. I see that your purpose involves leading others. You guys could be coaches to help people break habits that maladaptively stagnate their lives, you keep yourself strong, in order to pass this on to others who finally decide that they to help themselves. Your insight isn't going to be accepted by the majority because those people are still stuck on outward appearances or are complacent with their own delusions, and it's not your responsibility to help everyone, but you're good at what you do and you have the potential to save a lot of lives with the changes that you help other people make within themselves. It doesn't even have to solely be changes either, you could motivate others to recognize what they already have within themselves too and that's so empowering. If you guys are tarot readers that are feeling down about the messages that you're trying to bring to people, I'm getting that you guys need to keep going, what you're doing is meaningful even if you can't physically see it, you awaken others deeply to things that they may not be ready to publicly share with others so give it time and remember your mission. You aren't here to entertain any thoughts of staying the same, you are here to promote growth. Don't downplay your gifts, you know what you know.

#divination #intuitive #psychic #pick a card #tarot #spirituality #pac #tarotblr #tarot community #the tarot community #pick a pile #pick a picture #halloween #spooky szn

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mavrintarou · 6 months

Text

[12:12 AM] Kozume Kenma A/B/O

I'm a day late but happy birthday to the cute rich gamer~

Warning: explicit A/B/O contents .

After a long morning of studying, you finally allowed yourself to check your phone after placing it under Do Not Disturb. Your eyes narrowed at the number of messages and missed phone calls that were waiting for you.

Ten missed calls and fifteen messages, all from Kozume Kenma, your best friend.

You checked the messages first, hoping to better understand why you had many missed calls from him.

I need you

Where are you?

Y/n something is wrong with me

You only read a few as you quickly packed your belongings and rushed to his place.

“Ken!” You shouted, entering his condo, toeing off your sneakers, and kicking them off. Your socks caused you to slip and slide on his hardwood floor as you hurried down the long hallway that led to his living room.

Kenma lived in a luxurious condo that was designed to accommodate his career and lifestyle. His personalized gaming room was soundproof and the unit was located at the very top of the building so that he wouldn’t have disturbing neighbors. After becoming a successful gamer and businessman, money was no issue to him.

His living room and kitchen were empty, as usual, but it was the… faint and unknown pheromones that you smelt in the air that gave you chills.

You were also close to your heat cycle, with it being a few days away.

But nothing made any sense.

Kenma was a beta. A dominant beta to be precise and he should not be producing any pheromone.

“Whose…” you plugged your nose and headed up the stairs to the second level where his office and bedroom were located. For someone who lived alone, he had a large place where he only occupied a quarter of the living space.

As you near the second level, the stronger the pheromone. Did he… have someone with him?

Being a dominant omega, you were able to determine that it was an alpha, it was the alpha pheromone that was making your body hot and difficult for you to reach Kenma.

“Kenma!” you shouted, breathing heavily by each step. “Kenma! Where are you?” You shouted his name repeatedly and forced yourself into his bedroom, as usual, his bed was unmade and there was no sign of him.

His office was at the end of the hall, and you pushed yourself forward. You grabbed his door knob, only for it to lock. “Kenma!” you pound on the door. Why would he lock the door when he was the only one home? “Kenma! It's me, Y/n, are you in here?”

Heat pooled between your legs, making your panties damp by the second. Whoever’s alpha pheromone will push you into your heat cycle if you don’t leave soon.

“Kenma!” you pound on the door and something clicks from the other side and the door slowly swings open. Kenma stood before you in a dazed look, his blond hair a mess. His breath is heavy and uneven. You stepped forward and grabbed his shoulder, “are you hurt? What – what’s wrong?” You searched their face but his focus remained afar. You looked over his shoulder, trying to get a glimpse if there was someone else in the room. “Is someone here with you? Why do I feel…” your voice faded as you realized it was Kenma, that was releasing pheromones. “Ken… are you – why are you releasing pheromones?”

Your hands tremble as lift your touch off his hot skin.

You had not realized that he was completely naked. You swallowed the dry lump in your throat and glance down, his cock was hard and thicker than you remember.

“Ken… ma…” you choked before losing all strength in your knee and collapsing on his soft carpet. The dampness you felt in your panties was now soaked. You’re soaking wet now.

Kenma takes a step closer and his cock greets you at eye level, it was a deep shade of red, thick with protruding veins.

You’ve seen Kenma naked, taken his cock plenty of times but you don’t remember it being this big… and thick…

The tip leaked beads of white cum, dripping down his length and you wanted to lick it.

“Ken…”Your voice shook with confusion. He should not be in a rut. This is exactly what a rut cycle was… for an alpha, not a beta.

His hand cups your jaw and tilt your chin upward and with his other hand, he grabs his cock and brings the tip to your lips, “suck.”

Your body was hot and your pussy ache, needing to be filled, needing to be fucked.

“Be my good girl and suck me, Y/n,” Kenma murmured in a low tone. “And I’ll fuck you good.”

Any and all rational went down the drain as you leaned forward and wrapped your mouth around the tip, swirling your tongue. Kenma’s head tilt back as you take as much of his cock into your mouth as you were close to gagging. Your hand stroked the remaining that you couldn’t take and nearly choked with his cock twitched.

“Y/n,” Kenma’s fingers thread through your hair, pushing it away. “I’m about to cum if you don’t want it down your throat.”

His eyes darken as you disregard his warning and groan, hips jerking as he pushed his cock further into your throat. Hot and thick cum shot down your throat as you pulled back enough to take it all.

Kenma stepped back and withdrew, his thumb wiping away the tears that slipped from the corner of your eyes. “Good girl, now come here.”

You loved it when Kenma praised you, he may be a beta to others but he was an alpha to you.

He tugged you up onto your feet and a hand gripped the back of your neck, pressing your lips against his in a hard and hungry kiss. His hands were eagerly ripping off your clothes, he growled as he pulled away to tug off your shirt before his mouth resumed back on yours.

You’re backed up against his wall as he flips you around and drops to his knees, his hand roughly tugged off your leggings and shoving them at your ankles.

Before you could look over your shoulders, you gasped loudly as your hips were jerked back and his face smothered into your pussy. “Ah… K – Ken!”

Your back arched, breasts pressed against his wall as you feel two… or three fingers plunging into your dripping pussy.

Being days away from your heat cycle, your pussy was more than ready.

“Enough, Ken,” you murmur, looking back to see his dark eyes peering up at you with his nose and mouth buried into your backside.

He pulled back and you can see his cheeks glistening in your wetness. “You taste sweet… and savory.” He stood up and spun you back around towards him before hooking one arm under your left leg. “Wrap your arms around me,” he orders before aligning his cock to your pussy and pushing it all in one go.

Your moan echoed in his room along with his thrust.

His cock felt longer and thicker than usual and you weren’t sure if your body was just sensitive at the moment.

Your arms tighten around his neck as you’re being lifted practically off the ground. You were lifted onto the tip of your toes on your other foot. Kenma presses your body against his wall with him being the one to pump his cock into you.

“Fuck – yes, Ken!” Your fingers gripped tightly to his hair. “Your cock… your cock fills me up so – “ your sentence is cut off as his teeth nips at your neck, he inhales sharply and growls into your throat. “Ken – why…” your mind is blurred as pheromone fogs all your senses.

His long strokes bring you to heaven, filling your tight pussy and pushing up against your cervix. Each time he was fully inside of you, his tip brushed against your opening, seeking entrance.

Being a beta he wouldn’t be able to knot you, let alone breed you but you allowed your imagination to wonder.

Kenma has taken care of you during your heat a handful of times, even if he wasn’t able to completely satisfy your needs entirely, he was enough for you.

He was always someone you held close to your heart, someone you loved but he had always treated you like his friend.

You were content with your relationship as long as he didn’t have others. He did not seem to mind that you occasionally would seek an alpha for the once or twice a year that you would need a knot to completely satisfy your heat.

“Kenma,” you moaned against his neck, “Kenma I’m so close… please… I need to cum…” You’re suddenly hoisted and pressed against the wall as Kenma’s other arm hooked under your right leg, carrying your weight.

Kenma’s grunts and groan was louder than usual and he was rougher than usual.

Your nose pressed against his neck, his scent smelled differently but you couldn’t quite figure it out.

“Ken,” you moaned, each time the tip of his cock brushed your cervix opening, it widen, widen to allow and accept a knot.

The tip of his cock continue to keep probing your cervix until you feel him slip past and your belly bulges.

You gasped and came, pussy trembling around his cock. Your legs and arms tighten around him, “h – how?” you whimper, feeling his cock inflating into a knot.

You didn’t understand and didn’t have the capacity at the second to care.

Kenma was knotting you.

He is breeding you.

His cum is filling your nearly fertile womb.

The first thing your eyes focused on is Kenma’s chest.

You’re lying in his arms in his cozy bed, and he is fast sleep.

One if your leg is thrown over his hip and was still stuffed with his cock.

You lost count after the fourth round.

You lost it all when Kenma knotted you.

“You fainted on me.” His quiet whisper startled you.

“Well,” your voice croaked, “did you not expect it when you made me cum four times in a row with no break?” His lips curve into a small smile. You traced his jaw, “Ken… what – what the hell happened? How are you able to knot?”

Kenma opens his eyes and catch your wrist, bringing your palm to his cheek. “I had a successful transition.”

Your eyes widened in response to the news.

A significant breakthrough recently became viral in modern medicine and treatment has allowed betas to transition into either omega or alphas. However, the progress is still experimental, and not every case has been successful.

“So, you’re an alpha now?”

“Yes,” he answered confidently. He shift and kiss you softly, “this… is my first rut cycle.”

It explained the imbalanced pheromones and the shift in his physique. His shoulders have broaden and… his height.

You moaned into his mouth, “Ken, I love you regardless of what you are.”

“You love me?”

Your heart accelerated, accidentally blurting out your true feelings.

“You love me?” he asked again, wanting clarification.

You shut your eyes and sighed before nodding, “yes, I have loved you for a long time.”

He smiled, something you weren’t expecting. “So have I, I have loved you since we were kids.”

Your eyes find his soft hazel brown ones, “really?”

“Yes, when this treatment was announced, I decided to give it a shot.” He lets out a soft sigh, “it was all worth it if it meant you wouldn’t have to rely on another alpha.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want to disappoint you in case it didn’t work.” He pressed his lips to the tip of your nose. “I’ll continue to keep doing treatment but for now, my test results are all showing alpha traits.”

You tighten your arm around his back, snuggling closer into his chest. “Yes, you knotted me, you know?”

“I sure did.”

“How did that feel?”

“Fucken wonderful.”

You leaned back to look at him, “you know I could be pregnant now, right?”

“That was the plan.” . . .

E/n: Kenma, an alpha #hotness

@queenelleee @mfreedomstuff @erintaro @callmeraider @chaotic-fangirl-blog @wolffmaiden @cloud-lyy

#haikyuu smut #haikyu x reader #haikyuu kenma #haikyuu a/b/o #kenma smut #kenma fluff #kenma x y/n #kenma x you #kenma x reader #kozume kenma

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cryptidclaw · 7 months

Text

Star Firesight!

Design Notes:

Fire is now a Scottish fold!... or rather a descendant of Scottish folds since i doubt pure bred cats still exist post apocalypse.

He also has some very small black calico spotting, just two litol spots I think its cute :3

Since he is an ex healer he still wears some flowers like a healer would in memory of his old role.

Character Bio:

Star Firesight

(Fireheart/star)

Bisexual & Polyamorous; Trans Tom; he/him

Age as of 1st arc's beginning: 7 moons; 11 Hyrs

Age as of 1st arc's end: 2 cycles, 5 moons; ~26 Hyrs

Title meaning: -sight = this cat can spot things that others cannot; a cat with a close connection to the Stars; this healer receives many signs from the Stars; the healer may also be very good at spotting illnesses or injuries.

Healer -> Second -> Leader of Thunder Order

Mentor: Redtail (died) -> Spottedleaf

Mother: Nutmeg

Father: Jake

Sibling: Sapheart (Princess)

Half Siblings: Socks; Ruby: Tinyclaw

Mates: Sandstorm; Shriketail

Kits: Squirrelflight (sire: Sand); Leafpool (sire: Shrike); Foxleap (sire: Sand); Icecloud (sire: Shrike)

Grandkits: Star Hollyleaf; Falconstrike; Jaywing; Alderheart; Sparkfire

Other notable kin: Cloudtail (nephew); Snowshoe (nephew); Mistletoe (niece); Spiderleg (nephew); Shrew (nephew)

Notes:

Firesight has chronic pain (and mobility issues later in life):

Fire has the Scottish Fold breed's mutation which effects cartilage in the body, this causes his ears to fold, but it also causes chronic joint pain and can progress into swollen and inflexible joints.

For Fire, he is has the heterozygous version of this mutation, which means that his disability progresses more slowly, as a young cat he does experience some joint pain, with some days being worse than others. He is able to medicate with his own chronic pain herbal mix he created as a Healer. However as Fire grows older his joints will worsen, and by the time of his old age he will be unable to jump and some days is unable to walk.

He is able to still use his medication to aid him and is able to lead a happy life, but he is disabled and I didnt want to leave that out of his character! It's important to have disability rep (and spread awareness of the issues with the Scottish Fold breed) and I hope I serve him justice!

Character Summary:

In Progress (to be added later)

...

[Image ID: a digital drawing of Star Firesight, an AU version of Firestar from Warrior Cats. He is standing with his left side showing and has a proud and happy expression with a smile. He is a short, chubby and round shapped bright orange tom with small folded ears and green eyes. His fur's coloring is layered in a fire like pattern from orange to a lighter orangey yellow. His right ear is black and he also has a small black spot above his nose. He has a white lower chest, muzzle, toe tips and tail tip, and his nose is pink. He wears pink flower petals and green leaves in his pelt and a simple crown rests on his forehead bade up of a diamond shaped red stone and a small teardrop shaped white stone below it./End ID]

#cryptidclaw's warriors au #rise of change #firestar #star firesight #med cat fireheart au #fireheart #firestar design #warrior cats #warrior cats design

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7ndipity · 4 months

Text

He Forgets Your Birthday

Jin x Reader

Summary: Jin just wants to make your birthday memorable, but what happens when life gets too hectic and makes him forget?

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, swearing

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! Sorry it took me a little bit to get to.

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Life moved quickly with Jin, in multiple ways.

The first time you ever met, he asked for your number, fearing you wouldn’t cross paths again and he might not get another chance. You both said ‘I love you’ less than two months into dating, after he accidentally let it slip out during one of your first nights together, you even ended up moving in with him after less than a year when the apartment you were subletting fell through(or more accurately, flooded through, but whatever)

Things also moved quickly because of your careers. Sometimes days would flick by without your realizing, a week would turn into two before either of you noticed, and then suddenly it’s been nearly two months since your last technical date.

Despite your reassurances that you understood, Jin felt guilty at times for the two of you missing out on special occasions like holidays or anniversaries with each other, but one day he promised he wouldn’t let slip past was your birthday.

You weren't exactly a fan of making a big fuss for your birthday, but Jin wanted to make it special for you.

“I’ll cook,” He’d promised you. “I’ll make all your favorites, as well as traditional seaweed soup for good luck, and then we’ll do whatever you want for the rest of the day.”

“What if I don’t want to do anything?” You’d asked, raising a brow as you sat on his lap.

“Then we’ll do nothing together,” He’d replied, pulling you closer. “And have a wonderful time doing it.”

It’d been an easy promise to make when your birthday was still almost a month away, but as the days and weeks passed, things became increasingly hectic. Comeback season was drawing close, and with it came the pressure and chaos of constant rehearsals, video shoots, and promotional activities, leaving Jin little time to think about much else. Half the time you were already asleep before he got home at night, tiredly wrapping himself around you for a few precious hours before starting the cycle all over again.

He didn’t even know what day of the week it was until Jimin spoke up as they slumped against the wall, trying to catch their breath during rehearsals.

“Oh, how’s Y/n? Did they like their gift?” Jimin asked. “I haven't heard from them since I texted happy birthday this morning.”

Jin felt his heart screech to a stop as he looked over at the younger man, hoping he had misheard. “What?”

“The flowers you helped us pick out? I figured they would’ve-” Jimin’s voice trailed off as he noticed the growing look of horror on Jin’s face. “Tell me you didn’t forget?”

Jin’s whole body felt cold as he fumbled for his phone, stomach dropping as he read the date, and then the numerous text notifications from you.

His hands shook as he read your words, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

‘You left this morning before I got to say it, but love you💖’

‘Do you know what time you’ll be home?’

'Ngl, I'm kinda excited for tonight, it's been ages since I had your cooking😋'

‘Jinnie? Is everything okay?’

‘You’re not coming, are you?’

‘You could at least answer your phone so I know you’re okay.’

Shit.

Sparing no time explaining to the others, he grabbed his things and bolted out the door, nearly sprinting for the elevators.

He couldn’t believe how badly he’d fucked up, you must’ve been so upset with him. How would he even explain himself to you? Would you even talk to him when he got home? He wouldn’t blame you if the answer was no.

“Y/n?” He called as he opened the door but the house was silent, all the lights off, the stillness seeming to loom over him as he kicked off his shoes.

Tip-toeing through the house, he caught sight of the bouquet of flowers the guys had sent you sitting proudly in the center of the dining table, their cheery brightness almost mocking him now.

As he neared your shared bedroom, he caught sight of a sliver of light slipping out into the hall from the crack in the door.

Peeking in, he found you curled up on your side of the bed, sound asleep, but he could tell by the puffiness around your eyes that you’d been crying, shattering his heart completely.

He slowly sank down on the bed next to you, gently brushing your hair out of your face.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n.” He choked, tears blurring your image in front of him. He felt like the worst boyfriend in the world, how could he have forgotten something like this?! He had promised you!

He’d always tried so hard to live up to his commitments and responsibilities in your relationship, no matter how small, but in the moment when it mattered the most, he’d failed you.

“Jinnie?” Your cracked, sleep laden voice snapped his attention back up to you, meeting your tired eyes.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry.” He said, crying in earnest now.

“ ‘s okay.” You said drowsily, too tired to fight with him.

“It’s not. I made you a promise, and I fucked up.” He said, wiping his face.

You didn’t speak, sitting up slowly and pulling him into a hug. As upset as you might’ve been, you couldn’t stand to see him cry.

You wouldn’t lie, you were deeply hurt, but it wasn’t just for you. You’d seen how hard he’d been working lately, coming home late sore and exhausted, bags under his eyes from fatigue. You hated seeing him so tired all the time, so stressed and not able to do anything about it. You knew that under normal circumstances, he would’ve never forgotten, but your lives weren’t normal.

“I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He cried into your neck. “I’ll find a way.”

“Jinnie, I don’t care about the dinner,” You said, trying not to start crying again yourself as you pulled back to look at him. “All I really wanted was to be with you.”

“I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“Just come hold me, please.” You half dragged him under the covers with you, winding your limbs around each other tightly.

Neither of you spoke much as you slowly drifted off to sleep, clinging to each other desperately, needing to feel each other to be sure you were both still there.

When you opened your eyes the next morning, you found his side of the bed empty.

Sitting up slowly, you glanced around, questions only just beginning to form in your mind before you heard a faint noise from somewhere in the house, the scent of one of your favorite dishes drifting through the open bedroom door.

Still groggy, you climbed out of bed and followed the smell to your kitchen, where you found your missing boyfriend, his back to you as he stood over the stove, fussing at something he was stirring.

“Why are you so salty? I didn’t even add that much.”

“Maybe it’s just in a bad mood.”

He turned at the sound of your voice, eyes softening as they found you in the doorway, messy hair and sleep clouded eyes, wearing one of his pajama tops as a sleepshirt.

“I thought you were still asleep.” He said softly.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

“Fulfilling my promise to you.” He said, turning back to the stove for a moment as he spoke. “It’s not quite all of your favorites, but it’s a start. Plus, we’ve got the whole day to do whatever else you want to do.”

“I have work.” You said, not unkindly.

“No, you don’t.” He responded. “I left them a message saying you were sick and couldn’t come in today.”

“Sick with what?” You asked.

“Bad boyfriend-itis,” He said, coming over to hook his arms round your waist. “It’s a very serious condition, it requires a lot of rest and care to recover from.”

“You’re not a bad boyfriend.” You said quietly, fiddling with his shirt collar.

“I’m not so sure about that.” He said, frowning.

“Well, I am.” You pushed up on your toes to press your lips to his softly, making him melt instantly. You let your hands slowly trail up and around his neck, earning a slight shiver from him before you pulled away to look at him. “What about rehearsals?”

“I told them the same thing as your work.” He said with a slightly dazed grin.

“You have boyfriend-itis too?” You raised a brow at him questioningly.

“Are you kidding? I’m patient zero.” He replied, earning a giggle from you, making his heart swell as he smiled down at you.

“Go back to bed,” He said softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“I don’t wanna go back to bed.” You said, wrapping your arms around his waist, looking up at him seriously. “I told you last night, I just want to be with you.”

“Alright then.” He hooked his hands under your thighs, boosting you up to sit on the counter with a surprised squeak from you. “You can sit here and be my lovely assistant.”

“I don’t even know what you’re making.” You giggled again.

“Doesn’t matter, just follow my lead and make yummy noises when I show you something.”

The two of you talked as he continued cooking, stopping each time he passed by you to leave a kiss on your waiting lips. Once everything was ready, you moved to the table, sitting close enough that you could reach over and grab his hand as he settled next to you.

He glanced up at you. “What is it?”

“Just thank you.” You said.

He tilted his head. “For what?”

“Being you. Being here.”

Jin felt the familiar twisting in his chest as he leaned over to press another kiss to your lips.

“Always.” He promised.

He wouldn’t make the same mistake again, he swore to himself, he would be there for you, no matter what else was going on. You were his world, his heart, and he would make sure you knew that from now on.

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan

#seokjin angst #seokjin scenarios #seokjin drabble #seokjin x reader #seokjin x y/n #seokjin fluff #bts one shot #bts x y/n #bts x reader #bts drabble #bts angst #bts requests #7ndipity

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