#yes my hand is still recovering BUT I WANTED TO DRAW SO BAD

[conicalcrowd]

To the surprise of literally no one ever, he's my favorite

While I know his storyline, PLEASE NO SPOILERS FOR DEMON SLAYER

#art tag #kimetsu no yaiba #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kyojuro rengoku #yes my hand is still recovering BUT I WANTED TO DRAW SO BAD #I was going insane #(dw i did take breaks and didn't do this in one day)

[andysorbit]

Zayne hard thoughts drabble because he's ruined men for me and I- this man ain't even real please send help

minors dni

The soft strokes of Zayne's tongue drag another orgasm out of you and you whimper and cry out as your hands weakly push his head away. Soft pleas filling the thick silence of his dimly lit bedroom.

"S- Sir... I- you- please... no more..."

"You shouldn't ask for something if you're just going run from it... I'm being nice with my choice of words considering you didn't ask me for this but rather, you begged me for it like you were some kind of a desperate whore..." Zayne chides with just the faintest hint of a smile, "You know you don't really want me to stop. You've had so many opportunities to stop me- you have one right now and instead of taking the opportunity, you keep choosing to take whatever I give you. Does that sound like a girl who wants her daddy to stop?"

"N- no," You whisper with a meek shake of your head, "No, sir."

Zayne gets off of the bed and you watch him loosen the remaining buttons on his shirt before shrugging it off, "Doesn't that sound more like a greedy girl who's only pretending she doesn't like being treated like an object?" He grabs your legs and pulls you to the edge of the bed. He loves making you feel helpless just as much as you love feeling helpless.

Zayne is a healer, naturally. He likes to cater to you and make sure you're not only healthy but happy, satisfied, and always falling more and more in love with him. You're his prize but sometimes all he needs is to make you feel small. It's never a bad thing, he knows how far is too far and he's always ready to put you back together once he's done breaking you.

"Yes, sir," You reply; voice wavering as he reaches down to ease his fingers between your slick folds. Still recovering from his tongue, you squeeze your legs shut.

"Hm... I didn't know you could close your legs being that you're always so eager to spread them for me. I like this. I like how conflicted you are right now. Only you could know that you can't handle something and still want it so badly."

Zayne reaches down to unbuckle his trousers and he stops, "You do it."

You stare at him blankly and swallow, "Do what?"

He gives you a humored huff, "Don't be stupid."

You give him a puzzled expression before reluctantly easing your hand down between your thighs. He grabs your wrist, "Do I have to draw you a picture?"

The air hangs heavily in the room and Zayne sighs impatiently before tapping the buckle of his belt, "Does that make sense?" he asks you shortly. You nod and sit up to clumsily unbuckle his belt. Shakily you open his trousers and press a kiss to his clothed cock.

Zayne rests his hand atop your head, "Good girl. Now don't dawdle. I've wasted enough time trying to point out the obvious."

#love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace hard hours #love and deepspace hard thoughts #zayne smut #love and deepspace zayne #zayne love and deepspace #neoculturecollectives #no minors allowed #zayne smut drabbles #zayne drabbles #love & deepspace #love & deepspace smut #zayne drabble #love and deepspace drabbles #Zayne scenarios #zayne x reader #love and deepspace x reader

[slutforaemondtargaryen]

Special Suit | Shuri

Pairings: Shuri x F!Reader

Warnings: Smut, thigh riding, strap!shuri, nicknames, suit fucking, praise kink, fingering, multiple orgasms

Summary: Shuri wants to show you her new suit, that she made especially for you.

Word Count: 866

Author's note: Alright, i dont know if im satisfied with this, but it aint that bad.

Today I decided to visit my beautiful girlfriend in her lab. When I walked in I heard her beautiful voice ''Y/N, I'm so happy you're here! I want to show you something, come!''. I quickly came over to her. ''What is it?'' I asked with curiosity.

She then put on a suit I'd never seen before. It looked familiar to her normal suit, but the material looked different. More comfortable. It showed her curves so beautifully. And it didn't cover her face so I could see her beautiful face. She looked majestic in it.

The look at her made me wet in seconds. I could feel my pussy clenching around nothing. ''I made this suit, especially for our little fun''. She tapped on her thigh, a sign for me to come closer and sit there.

I sat on her thigh, patiently waiting for her next order. She torns my pants and patnies with her claws, throwing them away leaving me half naked. Luckily there was none there.

''Will you be a good girl today?'' she whispers in my ear seductively. I nod my head. ''Is that so?'' her hands slides in between my legs caressing my inner thighs. She licks my earlobe, making me moan softly.

''Ride my thigh.'' she demands and I obey without hesistation. I slowly start riding her thigh. The material against my clit feels amazing, making me moan. She grips my hips and makes the pace faster. I start to moan, but my moans are quickly silenced by her mouth. Her toungue fighting for dominance with mine. I melt into the kiss, her tongue inspects every place in my mouth.

''I'm close'' I cry out, desperately riding her thigh to get satisfied. ''Be a good girl and cum for me. Make a mess all over my thigh, princess.'' she muttered. It took me about five seconds and I came with cry of her name, making a mess on her thigh. My whole body is still shaking from the wholesome orgasm I just recieved. I rest my head on her shoulder breathing heavily.

She pats my head ''You did amazing, my love. You were such a good girl.'' I was still recovering from my orgasm when she started to circle my clit. Her words made me even wetter if it was possible. She entered two fingers and started fucking me at rapid pace. I gripped on her shoulders. ''You can take it, princess. You've taken it before.'' she encorouges me.

I smash my lips against hers as I feel another finger slipping in me. She bites at my bottom lip almost drawing blood. My moans get louder as I feel another orgasm coming. ''Such a good girl, clenching around my fingers, so goodly.'' the pace gets fast and harder her fingers curling in me every way possible, fetching my orgasm. I finally let go. I cum hard all over her fingers.

She slips them out, my juices flowing from me, dripping down my thighs. She brings them to her mouth and licks them clean, moaning at the taste of me. ''You taste wonderful, princess''

''Are you ready for another round?'' she says more informing me than asking me. ''I added a special thing in my suit, so I can fuck you properly'' she announced while tapped something on the screen and a strap created itself on her lap.

It was purple, big and thick. It matched her suit. Shuri watched me with smirk on her face as I was examining the strap. ''Do you like it, my love?'' she questioned. ''Yes, I like it very much!'' I nod my head and touch it. It's very flexible and soft.

Shuri then takes the strap in her hand and positions it against my slit. Coating it in my juices she slowly circles my clit with her fingers. ''Ride my strap with your sweet little pussy, princess'' with that she grips my hips and slowly positions me on the strap.

I slide on it slowly, moaning at how big it is. ''Kiss me'' she demands. I kiss her lips softly as I ride her strap. The kiss becomes quickly passionate and she sets up a rough and fast pace, fucking me with the strap deeply.

I try to pull the strap out from all the overstimulation, but her grip on my hips only tightens and she thrusts in me harder than ever before. ''Take what I give you, princess or you won't cum for a week.'' she growls in my ear, hardening every trust with every words.

My back arches as I feel that I am close to my climax. ''Not yet, wait until I tell you so'' she stated, also being close to her orgasm. She circles my clit bringing me closer to my release. Her thrusts become sloppy, but still deep. ''Cum for me, my love'' she said and with that I came, Shuri just a second later.

She circles my clit and kisses me, taking me through the orgasm. ''I loved it'' I say with weak voice. ''You were such a good girl for me today, I am so proud of you, my sweet princess'' she gives me kiss on my forehead.

#shuri x reader #mcu shuri #shuri smut #shuri black panther #wakanda forever #shuri x y/n #shuri x fem!reader #shuri x f!reader #marvel smut #shuri x you #black panther 2 #black panther smut

[makingqueerhistory]

I know you used to have a book wishlist, where did that go?

Yes I did, it was gently retired, though we had some very generous people who sent me books (THANK YOU <3 I continue to be shocked and warmed by this community's generosity) I found that I am much more of an audiobook person. I have trouble keeping information in my mind if I am reading it physically. That being said, I have also begun requesting books from my local library, which has been a massive resource that has assisted me more than I could have imagined before I started using it.

That being said, there are some books that I wish I had access to still, just because they don't have audiobooks. Currently my list is made up of:

Feeling Backward: Loss and the Politics of Queer History by Heather Love: "Feeling Backward" makes an effort to value aspects of historical gay experience that now threaten to disappear, branded as embarrassing evidence of the bad old days before Stonewall. It looks at early-twentieth-century queer novels often dismissed as "too depressing" and asks how we might value and reclaim the dark feelings that they represent. Heather Love argues that instead of moving on, we need to look backward and consider how this history continues to affect us in the present.

Prairie Fairies: A History of Queer Communities and People in Western Canada, 1930-1985 by Valerie Korinek: Prairie Fairies draws upon a wealth of oral, archival, and cultural histories to recover the experiences of queer urban and rural people in the prairies. Focusing on five major urban centres, Winnipeg, Saskatoon, Regina, Edmonton, and Calgary, Prairie Fairies explores the regional experiences and activism of queer men and women by looking at the community centres, newsletters, magazines, and organizations that they created from 1930 to 1985.　

Racism and the Making of Gay Rights: A Sexologist, His Student, and the Empire of Queer Love by Laurie Marhoefer: Racism and the Making of Gay Rights shows how Hirschfeld laid the groundwork for modern gay rights, and how he did so by borrowing from a disturbing set of racist, imperial, and eugenic ideas. Yet on his journey with Li, Hirschfeld also had inspiring moments - including when he formulated gay rights as a broad, anti-colonial struggle and as a movement that could be linked to Jewish emancipation. Following Hirschfeld and Li in their travels through the American, Dutch, and British empires, from Manila to Tel Aviv to having tea with Langston Hughes in New York City, and then into exile in Hitler's Europe, Laurie Marhoefer provides a vivid portrait of queer lives in the 1930s and of the turbulent, often-forgotten first chapter of gay rights.

If you wanted to fund my ability to get my queer hands on these books, here is the link:

#dont feel pressured to pay #and know any and all donations are split #so not all of it is going directly into my book fund lol #answered

[the-auguer]

The Forbidden Book of… Uh, Forbiddeness

Normal forbidden book mishaps lead to Mammon getting hallucination whammied into his ultimate dream world.

cw: suggestive

Dull, throbbing pain laced up Mammon’s leg, his body jerking back in an attempt to counterbalance its precarious tip forward. 

“What the hell, Satan!” Mammon barks, kicking vengefully at the book stack that had violated him so carelessly. It toppled so very satisfyingly. Stupid Satan and his stupid room with his stupid book stacks that are just lying around, waiting to be tripped over. 

“Do not,” Satan intones in that dangerous way he’s perfected over the centuries, “kick my books.”

Mammon scowls back at him. Wrathful or not, Mammon is the second born, Mammon is the big brother, and Mammon is the one helping Satan out of the kindness of his heart. 

You stumble over your own deadly pile of books, kicking a few over as you reorient yourself. You crouch to stack them, glancing over your shoulder sheepishly. “My bad, Satan.”

Okay, so maybe it’s not exactly out of the kindness of Mammon’s heart that he’s here. But he couldn’t just leave you alone in the damn snake’s den!

Satan grunts, waving his hand at you. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Hey! Why do they get a pass and I don’t?” Mammon yells across Satan’s room. “Here I am, helpin’ you like you asked—”

“You’re only helping because they are,” Satan cuts Mammon off, dry and slightly amused. Like the bastard knows something Mammon doesn’t. Ugh.

Mammon’s mouth gapes open in offense. “What! You don’t know a damn thing, you… you…!”

“‘You’ what?” Satan asks, creeping closer to Mammon.

Mammon rears up, ready, but you call out from the distant side of the room.

“Do you think it’ll be in this section?”

Satan’s leer melts right off, turning contemplative. “That depends. Are you in the history or the practical leather work section?”

“Uhhh, neither?” You duck further into the dusty shelves from your crouch. “This looks like… demonic industrial psychology?”

Satan snaps his fingers and begins to walk over. “Yes, actually, it should be a shelf over from there.”

“Okay.” You lift yourself up off the floor, brushing the dust out of your hair. “Ick. Will it be to the right or left?”

Satan’s confident stride to the shelf falters. 

Mammon cackles. “Lookit you! You don’t even know where it is.”

Satan’s brows draw back down his face immediately.

“It would be a lot easier to find anything if someone hadn’t wrecked my room like a moron!” 

“I dunno why you’re yellin’ at me!” Mammon shouts back. “I didn’t do anythin’!”

“You ate Beel’s sandwich.” Satan says. “Again.”

“I dunno why you’re bringing that back up,” Mammon sulks. “It’s not my fault he went on a rampage over a stupid sandwich. Besides, that happened months ago.”

“It’s been two weeks and my room is still a mess.”

“I don’t see any difference.”

“Why you—“

Satan steps towards Mammon.

“Satan,” you call. “Still needing those directions.”

You’ve leaned yourself against a wall, like you don’t really care about all the shouting Mammon and Satan are doing. Hell, maybe you really don’t. Mammon knows that he himself does a lot of the shouting. Maybe you’re used to it. 

Maybe you like it. 

“Ah,” Satan says. “Yes.”

He stares at the wall, considering. 

“Maybe to the right?” He does not sound sure. 

You laugh. Just a little. Mammon finds himself leaning towards you, even though you’re ten feet away. 

“I’ll take left and you take right?” You suggest to Satan.

Mammon nods. “I’ll go left with ya!”

Satan sighs. “Sure.”

Mammon bounds over to stand next to you. You quirk a smile at him. A nice, small one. Like there’s still a bit of a laugh caught in your mouth. Mammon wants… he wants…

“I’ll look low if you’ll look high.”

Mammon startles, but recovers just as quickly. “Leave it to the Great Mammon!”

He cranes his neck, squinting at the ceiling height shelves that make up Satan’s walls, only just able to read the titles embossed on the spines of the books. 

“Hey,” Mammon says, “what’re we looking for again?”

That half of a laugh falls from your mouth again. “Only you, Mammon, I swear.” 

“There is only one Mammon,” Mammon says seriously. It makes you huff again. 

“We’re looking for Satan’s cursed cookbook.”

“Oh yeah! Hey, Satan, what’re you making for dinner?”

“Nothing if I can’t find my cookbook,” Satan says tersely.

“Eh? Just use your D.D.D. for recipes like everyone else.”

“No.” Satan replies, rifling through a mid-level shelf. 

“Why?”

“Because it’s not right. My Cursed Demon Cuisine Cookbook has every recipe a demon could need, and it already has my adjustments written in it. It’s irreplaceable. I will never cook without it.”

“Yeesh, alright.”

Mammon squints at the shelves again. Something something Demonic Animal Acupuncture , some fancy cursive that Mammon doesn’t care to make horns or tails of, Forbidden Fruits of the Demonic Realm , something something Skewering Techniques , something Demon Cuisine something, some book without a title, Practical Woodwork in Relation to Leather Work , and Demonic Tree Species and their Habitats . 

Damn, Satan really had a line up of bores in his room. Nothing interesting, like mechanic books or something. How to Win Big Fast , that’s Mammon’s kind of book.

Nothing like… hmm. 

“What’d you say the book title was?”

Satan snorts dismissively. His search has been completely halted, as he has immersed himself into hunching over a different book.

You glance up, raking your hair out of your face with your hand as you do so. You need a haircut, something Asmo has been bemoaning all week. Mammon’s mouth is dry. 

“ Cursed Demon Cuisine Cookbook , I think.”

Mammon whips his head up. “I think I found it.”

You draw yourself up from the floor. “Really? Where?”

Mammon points. “Fourth shelf down, kinda on the right.”

You hum, eyes nearly in slits from how hard you’re having to squint to see that far. Your nose is scrunched. Your brows too. You’re really… you look so… Mammon wants to poke your nose. 

“Oh, I think that is it!”

Mammon’s chest puffs. 

“What’d I tell ya? Leave it to the Great Mammon, the best of the best.”

You pat his chest. “You did great Mammon.”

Cheeks suddenly hot, Mammon looks back up the shelf. “O-of cou-course. Let me… I’ll get it down!”

“How?” You ask. “It’s pretty high up there.”

“Oh, sad little human. I can get that book down with my eyes closed.” Mammon replies, shaking out his hands and then his legs. “Never underestimate Mammon!”

“Right… and you’re going to…”

Mammon jumps, his eyes truly closed. 

“Mammon!”

Laughing, Mammon stretches out his hand. At the peak of his jump, he brushes against the spine of a book. He snatches it, certain he’s correctly judged how high he’d needed to jump. 

As gravity begins to pull at his body, Mammon grins. You’ll be so impressed with him, once he lands. He’ll be perfectly balanced, practically bouncing on his toes, with the book in his hands in one fell swoop. You’ll tell him how great he is. How powerful and cool. And you’ll… You’ll. 

You’ll what?

Mammon hits the ground, his knees stock straight and unprepared. He stumbles, arms pinwheeling, before finally regaining his balance. That was close. 

He holds the book over his head. “A-HA! Victory is Mammon’s!”

Satan has finally pulled his nose out of his book and made his way to stand next to you. Mammon lowers the book to show it to him. 

Satan sighs. “Mammon, that’s not my cookbook.”

“Whaddaya mean it’s not your cookbook? We saw it for sure—” Mammon glances down. “Damn it!”

It was the stupid no title book that was right next to the cookbook. Mammon had been so close. His jump was perfect, even if his landing wasn’t. If he had only been a little to the left he would have gotten the right book!

“Don’t worry Mammon,” you say. “You still found it. All we have to do is get it down.”

Mammon grumbles. “Stupid no-title book.”

“Did you say no title?” Satan’s voice is sharp. 

“Yeah,” Mammon replies. What’s all the fuss about leather bound, unmarked books anyway? Mammon has a few paperbacks in his room, and they don’t look nearly as namby-pamby as this stupid thing. Mammon cracks the book open. 

“Mammon,” Satan warns. “Do not open that.”

Oh-ho? Is it Satan’s diary? Mammon bets it is. Well, it’s not like Satan should have anything too embarrassing in here. It’s probably all just ranting about how much he hates Lucifer. It wouldn’t hurt if Mammon had a little peek. 

Maybe he can tell you about it later. If it’s funny, of course. You might not laugh, though. Oh well. 

Mammon pulls it the rest of the way open. 

“Mammon!”

The only thing Mammon really remembered with any clarity was how strange it felt to have his knees buckle underneath him. 

“Mammon!” His face isn’t pale, or even really stricken with pain, but your hands hesitate over him all the same. What if you make whatever this is worse? What if you hurt him?

Satan sighs. “Idiot. I told him not to open that book.”

You turn to Satan. He seems twice as tall from where you kneel next to Mammon, but you’re not phased. 

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He opened the Forbidden Book of…” Satan delicately flips the fallen book closed with his shoe. It has no title, just a symbol you can’t decipher. “The Forbidden Book of Dreams.”

Your brows furrow in confusion. “Aren’t your forbidden book titles usually a little more on the nose than that?”

Satan shivered, likely reminded of the body-switching debacle. “Yes, you are right. However, I have acquired some forbidden books that follow different rules. I never really got around to experimenting with this one. Maybe it activated because—”

“Stop,” you say. “We can talk about that later. Right now…” 

Mammon looks strange, lying limp on the floor. Even in sleep, he should be restless. Muttering and rolling and kicking. Instead his only movement is the rise and fall of his chest. 

You feel wretched just looking at him. 

“We need to get him somewhere more comfortable.”

Mammon blinks out of his haze, rather confused. It’s not often he can’t remember when he walked into a casino. 

This casino seems different, too. At least, Mammon hasn’t been in it before. The walls are covered in a golden sheen, with high arcing ceilings where gleaming demonic crystal chandlers hang. The carpet is a warm, lush red, with dozens of gambling tables full of patrons scatter across the room. The dealer at his table is one of those four armed demons that Mammon loves and hates. Loves because of how quick the next hand is shuffled passed out. Hates because the extra hands make it much harder to identify the cards Mammon’s opponents receive. Glancing down at his hand of cards, Mammon conceals a devilish grin. Poker. Mammon is awesome at poker. And his cards… his cards are good. Really good. 

And he has a lot of chips. Mammon’s neck cranes with how much his head has to tip in order to see the end of his chips. 

Mammon hasn’t had good prospects like this is a while. Ever since that whole thing with the witches and Lucifer cutting him off, Mammon hasn’t had enough money to bet to win big like this. He can feel his mouth watering.

“Hey, Mammon? Where are you looking?”

The chips, as numerous and shiny as they are, quickly loose all meaning to Mammon.

It’s you. Sitting in the chair next to him. You’re glittering, draped in all sorts of gold accessories and jewels. If Mammon dips his eyes, he can see a discarded pile of tributes at your feet. Defective. Not nearly pretty enough to grace your body. 

You’re wearing yellow. It’s not a color Mammon usually sees you in. It’s lovely. You look… you look so…

A hand feathers through Mammon’s hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. It makes Mammon shiver all the way down to his toes. 

“Much better.” Your smile brings heat to Mammon’s chest. “I like it when you look at me like that.”

“Li-like what, st-stupid human?” Mammon splutters. 

The hand in his hair tugs. Not enough to hurt but just enough to reprimand.

“I don’t like being called that.” You’re… you’re frowning at him. A little bit. Mammon’s mouth is dry. 

“S-sor-sorry.” Mammon replies lamely, his tongue sluggish in his mouth. 

“Hmm,” you release his head and Mammon does his best to not chase after your hand. “Good enough, I guess. Your turn, then.”

Mammon turns to the table. His opponents’ piles of chips look pitiful next to his own. They watch him apprehensively. 

You’re watching him too, a half smile lazily curling about your face. “Go on. Win me a bracelet this time.” You show your wrists, both already heavy with bangles of all sorts, of diamond and gold and ruby. Your left wrist looks a bit more full than your right. Mammon finds his mouth is no longer dry anymore. He has a little too much saliva, now. “I don’t want an uneven amount. I’m sure the Great Mammon, Avatar of Greed, can fix that for me.”

“Yea-yeah! You bet!”

Mammon turns his head back to the table. The demon in green is looking pretty poor on chips and he has a very, very nice gold watch on his arm. Unbidden, a smirk crawls up Mammon’s cheeks. 

You huff out a quiet laugh. 

“I’m all in!”

There seems to be an unbearable pain in Lucifer’s head, what with how hard he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. You feel a bit embarrassed, because, yes, Lucifer only left the house for a few hours and there’s another crisis. Satan, Belphegor, and you stand in a semi-circle around Mammon’s bed. 

“Belphie, what does he look like?” Lucifer rasps, only just holding onto his sanity. 

Belphegor leans over Mammon, a discerning look in his eyes. He sighs. 

“He’s in there. Just dreaming.”

All of the air that was stuck in your lungs releases. Breathing is so much easier now. 

“Can you get him out,” you ask. Your hands flex, aching to clamp around Mammon’s hand. His hands are always warm, though. You’re a little afraid that they’ll be cold. 

Belphegor see-saws his hand. “Yes and no. I can go in and try, but the Forbidden Book will have its own conditions for Mammon to wake up.”

You turn to Satan, who is very carefully leafing through the book with oven mitts on. 

Satan grunts, turning a page. “Still looking. I found the activation requirements, though. It says in this passage that for the curse to work, a demon must be a ‘warrior at heart’ and ‘dreaming of something dear to their heart’ so that the dream world can be constructed accordingly.”

In your mind’s eye, you see Mammon’s wide grin as he opens the book.

”A warrior?” Belphie scoffs. “Mammon hasn’t done anything special in centuries.”

Lucifer makes a skeptical noise. “Inaction does not invalidate the claim to the title. Mammon… has always been one of a kind.”

“That’s true enough, I suppose. What do you mean ‘constructed’?” Belphegor asks, one hand placed carefully on Mammon’s forehead. 

“Just that,” Satan replies. “It takes the dreams of the demon and makes a world that they’ll never want to leave. Quite fascinating, really. This was crafted to be a trial for warriors, to test if they would truly be able to turn from their inherent sin and serve their greater demon lord. When I saw it up for auction on Akuzon, I had to have it. Shame about the situation, though.”

Satan did not sound too disappointed. 

“You mean he can wake up on his own?” Lucifer says. 

Satan shrugs. “I still haven’t found the actual chapter for it, but in theory, yes. He just has to have the willpower to turn away from his own sin.”

An uneasy feeling roils in your stomach. Turning away from your sin might be hard for regular, low-level demons, but an Avatar of Sin like Mammon…

The others seem to feel similarly. 

Lucifer turns to Belphegor. “How likely is it that you can get him out, Belphie?” 

“Pretty likely.” Belphegor replies, hand smoothing over Mammon’s cheek to his pulse. “Sleep is in my domain, so dreams also fall in by association, and I’m not sensing any kind of power that would overrule my own. The thing is, I don’t know if the curse will retaliate if I interfere. Could be that Mammon can never go a night without a nightmare or something equally awful. That sort of thing would take a lot of time to reverse.”

“Wouldn’t there be a failsafe if it was a warriors’ trial?” You ask. 

Satan shakes his head. “This particular demon tribe did not believe in failsafes. If you didn’t have the discipline to resurface on your own, you didn’t resurface at all.”

“Will he die? If he doesn’t resurface?”

“No,” Lucifer assures, his voice firm in a way that gives you a little bit of relief. “Mammon is an Avatar, so he won’t die. Besides, Belphie will get him out, if he can’t on his own. We’ll deal with whatever comes after.”

“How long will we wait, then?”

Lucifer looks to Belphegor. 

Belphegor yawns, likely exhausted by the serious atmosphere. “Two days or so, maybe?”

“The longest recorded coma was seven months, sixteen days, and eleven hours.” Satan pipes up.

“A week, then.” Belphie amends.

Lucifer nods. “In the meantime, I expect everyone to attend their classes as they usually would. I will talk to Diavolo.”

You nod, your eyes fixed on Mammon. 

Hopefully it won’t take more than a week. 

“ALL RIGHT! EVERYONE BOW DOWN TO THE GREAT MAMMON!”

All demons of all sins could only oblige, as Mammon had taken every valuable on the table. And a few off of it, too.

You laugh. It’s not that soft breath but an honest guffaw that has you shaking in your seat. You’re dripping in luxury, your ornaments doubled in number and rarity, a bigger heap of offerings at your slippered feet. It’s still not enough. Mammon wants… Mammon wants to see you in a crown. Maybe a crown of ruby, to compliment the yellow you’re wearing. Maybe one of emeralds. A mighty, tall crown worth more than the entire casino they sit in. 

Fingers whisper under Mammon’s chin as you tip his head towards you. So many necklaces of different kinds dangle from your neck, but not a choker. Mammon wonders why. He likes the look of them, how they emphasize the muscles or the graceful column or the lovely plump of a demon’s neck. 

You smile like you know what he’s thinking. “I saved something for you.” 

It’s leather or something like it, which isn’t strange for the demon world. It has a huge sapphire embedded in gold hanging from the middle. You turn his chair to face yours, your knees touching his, and fasten it around his throat. It’s tight, tight enough that he feels it constrict slightly as he swallows. 

“There we are. It looks better on you, anyway.”

“Of co-course it do-does. Everythin’ looks better on me.”

“Careful.” You say. You take hold of his chin again. Mammon’s world narrows down to your fingers and your eyes. “I might get upset if you keep being mean to me.”

The world is dizzy. Was he… was he really being mean? He always talks to you a bit like that, but he never thought that you would… that he would upset you. 

Your brows ease from their furrow. “Don’t worry, Mammon. You didn’t upset me. I was playing.”

Your fingers begin to withdraw. Mammon clutches your wrist. 

“Don’t stop.” Mammon nearly whines. “I didn’t say ya should stop.”

You smile at him. Mammon feels the choker against his throat as he swallows. 

“I won’t, Mammon, don’t worry.” You lean in, the hand Mammon’s holding moving to cup his jaw and the other going to the poker table behind him. Every demon’s eyes are on you. On your wealth, on your magnificence, on your daring. On your lips, skimming across Mammon’s cheek to his  earlobe. 

The the back of the chair that Mammon sits in is the only thing keeping him upright. He feels like he’s trembling apart at the seams, lightheaded with how close you are.

“Hey,” you whisper to him, your lips brushing his ear. Mammon is about to morph into his demon form, if only to loose some of the excess heat that is blazing across every inch of his skin. 

“Yeah?” Mammon rasps back. 

You stand between his splayed open legs, so close you’re practically in his lap. You lean away from his ear, both a relief and a loss. He feels set aflame by your very breath. 

“Let’s go play something else.”

Mammon glances over. Other demons are beginning to crowd the table, raring to play a game of poker, but wary of the Avatar of Greed and his winning streak. 

“What should we play?” Mammon asks. He knows a bit of what he wants, but you could want something else. And if it makes you keep smiling at him like that…

“Anything,” you murmur. “As long as you take everything they’ve got. I want to walk out tripping over money.”

Shit. Shit.  

Mammon feels heat suffuse his body with vengeance. His head lolls back to rest at the top of his chair. 

You huff— Mammon can feel your breath ghost along his cheek— and run a finger down Mammon’s throat, gliding across the choker and ending at his collar bone. 

Mammon’s back quivers, curling up off of the plush cushion of his seat. His breath is leaving him fast, and he can barely inhale enough to keep up with the demand for oxygen. 

You straighten, the heat of your body retreating with you, leaving Mammon all but limp in his chair. 

The ceiling is nice. Has Mammon mentioned how nice the ceiling is? Very high, very pretty. Gold and red, just like everything else in the casino. 

“Where are we going, Mammon?”

Mammon exhales. You want everything off of every demon. All of it. Mammon wants to give it to you. Wants to so very bad. 

He stands. “Let’s go play some craps.” 

Asmodeus drapes his torso dramatically over the table. 

“It’s not fair. Why does Mammon get to sleep through school with his deepest desires?”

“Careful,” you mutter ruefully, picking at your breakfast. You can’t really help how bitter your voice is. Someone has brought up this same topic at every meal. “You sound like Levi right now.”

“It’s true,” Levi bemoans, crossing his arms, “why does he get to live out his ultimate dream and I don’t? Mammon is probably wasting this opportunity on counting Grimm when I could be saving the world with my precious Ruri-chan! Shaking hands with Henry! Playing a real life RPG! How could Lucifer lock away my golden ticket to paradise? I would give anything, even my limited edition Double Bubble Ruri-chan: Disco Era Funtime doll!”

You put down your fork, frustration killing your appetite. You haven’t talked to Mammon in two days. By the time school is over, it’ll be three days. He’ll be in the same realm, in the same house even, and you still won’t be able to talk to him. It makes you nauseous. 

You don’t blame the others. To them, this is a temporary situation that Mammon will awaken from anyway, so why not be jealous of it? But to you… 

You miss Mammon. That’s all there is to it. 

Beel stares at your plate. You push it towards him. He drools over it, but turns away. 

“You should eat more,” Beel grits out with difficulty. “Eating is good for you.”

You reach down for the backpack at your feet. “Don’t worry, Beel. I’m not hungry, so I’m going to start heading to RAD.”

Beel does not wait for a second confirmation. He digs into your plate dutifully. He’s been eating a bit more than usual, you think. He’s probably anxious. You make sure to pat him on the shoulder on your way out. 

As you walk out the door, you hear Asmodeus’s voice, loud in his laughter. 

“Counting Grimm, Levi? Oh please. Mammon is probably in some casino with them blowing on his dice for luck. Maybe blowing something else, too, the lucky bastard.”

Hot breath fans gently over Mammon’s knuckles, and Mammon feels his cheeks heat at your dipped head. You rise, and Mammon rolls his dice. Eleven. Just what he needed.

Your arm winds around his shoulders as he cackles and collects his winnings of this round. Mammon is on a winning streak a mile wide, with his opponents in tears. 

“You’re lucky,” Mammon announces to you, to the casino, to the world. “I’ll take ya to any casino, anywhere.”

“Really?” You ask, your arm a band around Mammon’s chest. 

“Hell yeah, baby! Did ya see me? I won every game!”

You still, and Mammon stills with you. 

His face flushes. He considers backpedaling. Calling you a stupid human, saying that you should be grateful he wants to take you anywhere. But… you said it could make you upset. 

“Mammon. Mammon, look at me.”

Reluctantly he turns to look at you. 

Your cheeks are pink and your smile is kind. You lean your forehead against his. 

“I like that,” you tell him tenderly. “Say it again?”

Mammon murmurs something or another that he himself did not hear. 

“Please Mammon?” Your hands smooth over his shoulders. “Mammon?”

“Baby,” Mammon whispers, unsure. 

He has only a second to doubt himself before your lips drag across his collarbone. Mammon’s hands rise to brush against your waist, uncertain. Then your lips move just a little and bite down and all Mammon can do is hold onto you like a lifeline. He would shout, but something about the way that your teeth felt… it was… weird. Dry and not at all tingly. Maybe Mammon didn’t like biting? But…

“Hey, Mammon?” Your voice is breathy, like you ran a mile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Wanna get out of here?”

More than anything. “Sure, baby.”

Mammon gets a Little D to cash out all his chips and another to carry the excess wealth to the car. He wasn’t sure if he actually had a car here, but he could improvise. Maybe trade a few hundred thousand Grimm for a real nice car. 

But he takes you to the parking lot and there it is. His red convertible, top already down. The one he he’s been wanting to take you on joy rides in. You climb in like it’s no big deal. 

Swallowing, Mammon climbs in the drivers’ side. 

“Where to?” Mammon asks, unsure himself. If they go back to the House of Lamentation, Lucifer is sure to ream him out about gambling again. Mammon is in too good of a mood for it to be spoiled by Lucifer’s endless nagging. 

You tip your head back to rest on the shoulder of the headrest. 

“Anywhere. As long as you’re driving.”

Mammon laughs nervously, and puts the car in reverse. Anywhere. Anywhere at all. 

Mammon drives to the edge of the sea. On the beach. 

You sigh as the beach breeze moves through the car. Then you sit up to look at him. 

“Is there anyone around?”

“I, uh,” Mammon swivels his head, searching. Strangely enough, there’s no sign of any other demons on this beach. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

Mammon’s about to ask what’s good about being alone of a huge beach like two teens in a horror movie when you amble over the center console and sit yourself on his lap. All that can leave Mammon’s mouth is a strangled wheeze. 

You sparkle even more in the sunlight. You’re literally blinding. 

You tuck your head into Mammon’s neck and he awkwardly touches your waist with his fingertips. There’s a click, and Mammon is falling backwards as his seat reclines, yelping. Your breath puffs against the skin of his throat. Then your lips replace your breath. 

Mammon’s body jolts, jostling you from where you lay on top of him. You only laugh and feather another kiss under Mammon’s jaw, then against his cheek. 

“Mammon,” you breathe, your eyes bearing into his. Slowly, you inch forward, and all Mammon can do is meet your lips with his. 

You let your pencil clatter uselessly against the fine wood of your desk. There would be no more productivity tonight, and you pack up the remainder of your homework. Hopefully you’ll be able to wake up early tomorrow and work on it after breakfast. Maybe curling up with a book will distract you more that homework.

Day four of Mammon’s coma has trickled away, leaving you on the cusp of the fifth day and all the more bitter for it. Satan said that there was no way to reverse the coma using the Forbidden book, and had left it completely at that. Now you either had to wait three more days or hope that Mammon gave up on the pool of Grimm he was probably swimming in at the very moment. 

As much as you believe in Mammon, you know that’s not very likely. 

You toss your book aside, bored of it within seconds. Much like everything else lately. Walking with Beelzebub or Asmodeus to school is nice, but it would be much nicer if Mammon were there. Eating lunch with Simeon, Luke, and Solomon was relaxing, but it would be so much more exciting if Mammon were there. Gaming with Leviathan and reading with Satan was fun, but you miss Mammon’s ridiculous schemes and raucous laughter. 

It’s strange. You always enjoyed all of those things normally when Mammon wasn’t in a coma, but you can’t now that he is. 

He’s down the hall from you right now and you miss him more than you did when you returned to the human world for all those months. 

Tired, but unlikely to fall asleep anytime soon, you tuck yourself under your bed covers and close your eyes. 

There’s nothing. 

Mammon’s eyes are wide open. Shocked. Terrified. 

There’s no warmth at all from your lips. 

There is no fluttery feeling. No giddiness. There’s not even the heat that Mammon was boiling with back at the casino. All of the warmth from then and now seems to have leached right out of him. 

You pull back, smile bright.

“Mammon. Mammon.” 

Your hips move just a little, and you move back in to kiss him. Mammon flails, rolls you off of him, and fumbles to open the driver’s side door. When it finally opens, Mammon stumbles out, lands flat on his face in the sand, and scrambles to his feet. 

You sit up in the car. You’re still deck out in shimmering jewels, and you look just the slightest bit rumpled. And hurt. You look so hurt. 

It’s nearly enough to make Mammon trip over himself to climb back in the car, but he can't forget the feeling of your lips on his, or lack thereof. 

Maybe he just built it up too much in his own mind? Maybe he did both you and him a disservice by raising you on a pedestal, and the real deal can’t hold a candle to it?

But no. Mammon remembers. 

Mammon remembers a late movie night, you asleep with your head on his shoulder. Your head lolled and your nose ended up in the crook of Mammon’s neck. Your breath took up Mammon’s every thought, and your proximity made his heart speed. Most of all, he remembers the touch of your sleeping lips to his skin, and how electrified he felt. Like he could punch straight through Cerberus and a hungry Beelzebub all in one go. 

Everything else felt so real, so why did your kiss make Mammon feel so…

Why did it feel so fake?

“Mammon, what’s going on?” You venture, stepping out of the still ajar car door. “Are you okay?” 

“Whaddaya mean ‘what’s going on’?” Mammon yells, hurt and terrified and unsure. “What the hell was that?”

“That was—,” you stutter, “I thought that you—”

“No! No, no, no, no.” Mammon grabs fistfuls of his hair. “Don’t look at me like that! Don’t do it.”

You’re teary eyed. Which is ridiculous, because Mammon should be the one crying. Why did it feel that way? Why does he not feel horror at the thought of you crying?

“Something’s wrong.” Mammon says to himself, to the empty beach, to you. 

“What’s wrong? Mammon, tell me what it is and we can fix it!”

Mammon whips his head around. It all started with this damn abandoned beach, that feeling of wrongness. No lovely beach this side of Devildom is ever without demons. Or was it the casino? He should go back there. Right now! Only…

Where was the casino again?

Mammon’s head spun. Which way was it? He drove here, so he should be able to go back, right? Since when does Mammon, Avatar of Greed, not know where any casino is?

Never. Mammon has never forgotten where a casino is in his life. 

Your hands clutch at his shoulders, desperate. You’re crying, and your hands are trembling. 

“Talk to me! What’s going on?”

Mammon’s only gotten that many wins in a row a few times in his long, long life. And there’s no way Lucifer would ever let him bet enough money to play the type of high-stakes game that would result in that much money. He’s never seen that casino before, and doesn’t know where it is. Even if he concentrates, he can’t remember a single face from that casino. 

Which means that there’s no way that that was a casino. Which means the casino wasn’t real. 

“Mammon, you’re scaring me.”

Mammon looks down at you. You’re in yellow, his favorite color. You were in that fake casino with him, despite him never taking you to any demon casino anywhere in Devildom. You climbed right into the car he’s never shown you anywhere but his dreams. 

Dreams. 

Mammon takes in how hazy the horizon is. He spent several hours in that casino but the sun hasn’t budged from its half-mast in the sky, just before sunset. His favorite time of day. But there’s no day in the Devildom. And this isn’t one of Prince Diavolo’s special beaches.

“You’re not real,” he whispers. 

“What are you talking about, of course I’m real,” you cry, gripping his shoulders harder. 

“No,” Mammon says, “all of this isn’t real.”

He shoves fake-you away, skin burning with home close to him they were. How close he let them be. With one absent-minded hand, he rips off the leather choker and tosses it away carelessly. 

How was he supposed to get out of here? Was there some sort of spell? Was he supposed to fly out?

“It could be real,” fake-you says from the sand. They sit up, face contorted into a beatific smile. “You could stay here, forever. You could win every day. All the wealth you could ever imagine, gifted to you.” Mountains of gold pile up, tumbling over themselves as they stack high, high, high. “Nothing to slow you down. And then at night, you can take me home.” Fake-you rises and steps forward. Mammon retreats further away. “Think of all the fun we could have. You could do anything.”

Fake-you reclines in a pile, sliding a hand down their body, and it takes everything Mammon has not to throw up. 

The Grimm, skulls emblazoned and golden, are tempting. Mammon wants money, wants so much money that he’ll drown in it. But that… that isn’t real money, is it? What the fuck is Mammon supposed to buy with fake money?

“No! I don’t want fake money! I want real money!” Mammon kicks down a pile, feeling his fangs prickle his lower lip. What was the use of money that Mammon could never have in real life? What was the use of time spent with you when you weren’t really here? “I don’t want fake-you! I want the real you!”

“Why?” Fake-you asks, cupping a handful of gold and letting it pour from their hand. It makes musical clanks as it hits the rest of the coins and slides down the pile. “It’s as real as you believe it is, and so am I.” Fake-you grins. “Come on, Mammon. It’s not like you’ll ever get this chance anywhere else.”

Reeling with hurt and outrage, Mammon lets his demon form rise to the surface, feeling his power distort the very air. 

“I. Want. Out.”

The beach and fake-you are ripped to shreds by his claws. 

Belphegor crashed into the dinning room, looking more disheveled than usual. 

“Mammon’s waking up!”

Despite your human nature, you’re the fastest to react. You stumble to Mammon’s room, where he’s thrashing so violently you balk at the door. The blankets twist around him where his claws haven’t shredded them, and he’s growling. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Lucifer demands, pushing past his curious brothers, dragging Belphegor with him. 

Belphegor shrugs. “He’s waking up, but he’s forcing it. The Book’s fighting him.”

“Can you help him?” You ask. 

“I could,” Belphegor says, “but he doesn’t need it. Look.”

You turn back in enough time to see Mammon’s eyes fly right open, snarling in rage. Rising, he claws off the remaining blankets, and moves towards the crowed at the door, horns out and wings flared.

“Mammon,” you say, excited, shouldering past Lucifer. He doesn’t break his stride in his path to you, and when you reach out to hug him, he snatches you close to him. 

“You woke up,” you exclaim, squeezing him. “I thought I wouldn’t see you for two days! I took school notes, you can use them if you want.”

Mammon tilts up your head, the claws that tore up fabric in seconds gentle. “Mind if I check that this is real?”

“Yeah?” You reply. “How are you—”

He kisses you. Right there, in front of all six of his brothers. It’s soft, barely a brush of his lips on yours for a chaste second, but your heart nearly bursts in your chest with free fall sensation. Your head swims a little, and the words of the demons behind you fly right over your head. 

“Yeah,” Mammon sighs, stroking your cheek with his thumb, dopey smile growing on his face. “This is real all right.”

You have a million questions. How does your kiss make everything real? What was Mammon dreaming about? Did he miss you, too? 

As you open your mouth to ask any of these questions, Mammon collapses on you in a dead faint, taking you to the ground with him. 

Winded, you stare at the minuscule amount of ceiling that you can see through stark white hair. 

“Oh,” Satan says calmly. “The book did say to expect some disorientation upon awakening.”

#obey me mammon #mammon x mc #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me satan #obey me leviathan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me lucifer

[midnight-talescape]

Deal (Alastor x Reader)

Kinktober day 20: Tattooing

I swear this was hotter in my brain,

Warning: tattooing, overstimulation, mention of cannibal, a tad bit ooc, etc, etc you get the point not for kid

Genre: filthy filthy smut

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“Why hello my friend! It’s certainly been a while since we last seen each other!”

You looked at the demon in front of you and let out a pain sigh.

“I guess this really is fucking hell if I’m seeing you here,”

Alastor grabbed your arm and twirled you around,

“Don’t be like that, all that is between us is in the past, my friend,”

You broke out of his grip, before brushing your arm in disgust,

“Oh fuck off, Alastor. You’re the fucking reason i’m here,”

“Yes, yes, but stop holding a grudge. How about this we make a deal and all is forgiven,” he hold out his hand with a maniacal smile,

You glared at him,

“Do I look fucking stupid, I have heard of what you can do,”

He seems to think about this for a second,

“Yes!”

“You fuc-”

He put a finger on your lip,

“Now, now, calm down my friend, then how about a bet? You have always loved bet, how about it?”

You smack down his finger, you wanted to say no, but he was right. You do love bet, and you have bet with him before and nothing bad has happened. Well until he killed you that is, but that's in the past. Hesitantly you shooked his hand,

“What are we betting on then?”

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You let out an angry swear as you see the outcome of your bet.

“Seems like you have lost, my dear. Now for the prize,”

“Fine, fine, calm your fucking tits,” with that you angrily tore off your cloth, before pouncing on Alastor,

“Well, it seems like someone is excited,”

“Shut up and let's get it over with,”

Alastor hold down your hand,

“Then as you wish, my dear,”

He flipped you over and licked your neck before biting down on it, drawing blood. He sucked on the wound licking away the blood, before biting down again. He did this over and over again, covering your body in bite marks.

“Shit! Alastor are you a fucking dog?!”

“Awww, I didn't know you were so weak,” Alastor look up, his lip stained red,

Holding your leg down, his nails digging into your skin. He quickly stretched out your tunnel a bit with his finger before pushing his member into you.

You gripped the bedsheet, your back tensing up as you tried to get used to the feeling of having something inside you.

Gripping your leg he started to pound into you, you let out little moan as he started to hit your sweet spot. Leaning down he bite down on your neck as he fucked into your roughly. 

Your eye rolled to the back of your head, as your sense was flooded. You panted as your body was overstimulated. Your body shuddered as you were brought to another orgasm.

Just as you were trying to recover, Alastor gripped your waist and twist your body while his member was still buried inside you, grinding across your sweet spot as you were turned, earning a groan from both of you.

Pushing your body down onto the bed, he slowly trailed his fingers down your spine.

Suddenly you arched your back as you felt something stabbed into your skin.

“Motherfu-”

“Stop moving, bitch!” Alastor said with way too cheery of a tone,

You felt whatever was stabbing you repeatedly pulled out and stabbed in again, you can feel the blood dripping off your back before Alastor licked it away.

Tears dripped down your face as he fucked you from behind, his hand forcing your body back down every time you tried to get up.

Just as you were about to come again, he stopped thrusting his member into you.

“I know i’m fucking your brain out, but stop fucking moving, slut,”

“Fu-fuck you!”

“My pleasure!”

Every single time you were close to orgasming he will stop to edge you, as he does whatever he was doing on your back. Eventually, you broke down crying, as you were stopped from cumming.

“Now now, don't cry, my love! If you will stay still for me and stop fucking moving, when I’m done I will let you cum!”

Hearing that you desperately tried to calm your oversensitive body, hoping he will finish faster.

Eventually, he stopped and he started fucking into you faster and harder. You were quickly brought to a mind-breaking orgasm from being edge on for so long. With a crazy laugh, he pulled out from inside you, allowing the seed inside you to spill onto the sheet. He picked you up and took you in front of a mirror. Turning your back to it before forcing you to look,

“Don’t you love my gift to you!”

You opened your tired eyelid to see what the fuck he meant by ‘his gift’

Then you fucking saw it, and finally, realize what the fuck was that excruciating pain you were feeling was.

“D-did you fucking tattoo me when we were fucking?”

“Maybe!”

The design on your back was a elaborate magic circle with a key in the middle. It was beautiful and mysterious… You have a bad feeling about this…

“It’s my symbol! You belong to me now!”

“You fucking bitch! This wasn't part of the deal!”

“You forgot, my love. The deal is I get to do anything to you, you just assume I meant to fuck you!”

You realized what he said was true, but it was too late the deal was made, there's no turning back.

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Alastor has always wanted you, even when you guys were just mortal. He wants you, your eye to always look at him. But he wasn't unique, so how could he have you with him forever? He smiles as he remembers how you taste as he kept you as a part of him forever. 

But now in hell, he can be with you forever. He smiled as his eyes glow red with desire.

Little Easter egg (it’s more like some info dump for the backstory of the smut)

#no i don’t have problems #reader insert #reader smut #x reader #kinktober #kinktober 2022 #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor x reader

[nuevialnst]

Can you do Leon comforting Reader bcs of a Bad haicut? (Sry english isnt my first language, and my Hair looks so shit rn its making me cry)

uhmm… Yes I will because I feel so fucking bad for you and I hope you recover from your shitty haircut? 💋💋

This fic is really short, but I tried to do you some justice and leon fixes up your hair for you <3

I finished this so fic fast like holy shit-

This day was absolutely horrible.

The hairstylist fucked your hair up and your forced to go home to your boyfriend looking like shit without a way to fix it, but surely it isn’t that bad right?

I mean…it really was BAD. everybody stared at you and laughed and whispered and pointed, some people even started to pity you. The worst part about this whole mess is the fact you didn't know why they were doing that in the first place.

It just wasn't normal for them to be so mean towards you. You knew how to handle people being mean to you but this was something else entirely. You weren't used to these types of things.

You walked down the streets with your head down staring at your feet, trying to hide from everybody's eyes. You tried hard not to let their stares bother you too much, because they weren't your fault. You could do nothing wrong. You'd been here before so many times, after all, it probably wasn't as bad now that you thought back on it. Right?

But, oh god, did it suck. Every time someone looked at you they laughed and snickered. And, oh god…when you thought this could get worse you run into your boyfriend on the way back down the street to your house as he is getting the mail. He doesn't see you and doesn't notice you.

Your eyes go wide as you try to get away from him without drawing attention to yourself but unfortunately, you're walking too fast and he catches up with you quickly.

His arms are crossed over his chest. His expression is unreadable as usual. You look at him nervously for a second before you can feel a hand land on your arm. "Y/N," Leon says softly. You wince internally.

"We need to talk." That's when he notices your hair. "What happened to your hair?" His voice sounds kind of angry and hurt.

Oh my God…he's going to hate me or dislike it right?.

He always does. You swallow thickly as you glance to the side nervously. "Did your hairdresser do that?" He asks, sounding annoyed. You nod slowly.

He looks surprised for a moment, maybe even a little hurt. “Lets get you home, I had a feeling that something has been making me feel uneasy today.” You don’t say anything, you don’t want to argue. He pulls you along behind him, his long black coat swishing against the cement as he walks.

As you both walk inside he guides you to take a seat and he tries his beat to comfort you. “Do you wanna tell me what was bothering you?” He asks quietly. You shrug in response, still staring at your hands folded in your lap.

He sighs heavily. “Okay. If you want to keep quiet then we will.” That makes you look up and stare at him in surprise.

“Just let me make you atleast feel better than before.” Leon takes some scissors and a brush and touched your hair up with gentle motions. He hummed in approval when he finally finished and went to grab some paper and a pencil from the kitchen. “I have no idea why you haven’t had an idea to ask me to cut your hair before, it might help make you feel more comfortable rather than letting some hairstylist make it shitty.”

He pauses for a second before starting to gaze into your eyes through the mirror, which made you feel as if he was eye fucking you. Your cheeks flushed pink. “It looks fine. Better than fine even. Just keep it that way. You’re beautiful.” Your heart jumped at how sweet he said those words.

His fingers brushed across your cheek gently before returning to cutting your bangs into a short style. You closed your eyes as he gently pulled you in for a small kiss, then a few minutes later he was done fixing your hair. “Thank you,” you mumbled as he set the scissors and the paper aside.

“You’re welcome. I hope that helped a bit,” Leon replied, placing a kiss on your forehead as he got up. You felt butterflies erupt in your stomach and you smiled softly.

Your boyfriend always managed to make your mood improve somehow even if it wasn’t necessarily intentional. He gave off an aura that seemed to make everything okay again, even the most difficult days. Even just talking about you made him happier than anything and he was very good at that sort of thing.

You couldn’t believe you found such amazing boyfriend.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s. kennedy #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x fem! reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy resident evil #resident evil leon #resident evil x reader

[lollytea]

I don't know if anyone has said this before, or who came up with the idea but Hunter would absolutely be the kind of person to doodle himself and willow as wolves and in love whilst kicking his feet and giggling (as soon as someone else walks in though he would be throwing the entire book out the window)

It's so funny because Hunter has a tendency to talk to himself. He's very loud. But I think he'd be drawing his little wolfsonas and getting so giddy and overwhelmed by the thought of it that he is rendered incapable of even articulating what he's feeling but he still has to make some noise.

He's so embarrassed that he's doing this and also he's so PUMPED by how much fun he's having and he's jittery with how smitten he is with his little self indulgent wolf au and he's getting a thrill from it because there's nobody around to stop him and nobody will ever know. He is cringe but he is free. So he's overstimulated, he's kicking, he's giggling, he's squealing a little, he's trying to make words but all that's coming out like "WHAT IF-!!" *scribbles a green streak in wolf!Willow's fur* "SO COOL!! IT'S--JUST GOTTA--AAA!!! TEETH!!!" *makes wolf!Hunter's teeth sharper* "YES!! YESSS!!!!!"

Like he's trying to be low-key about it cuz this is supposed to be a secret but the whole fucking house can hear him. They're politely ignoring the racket he's causing.

He's like a little mad scientist bringing his creation to life. Except his creation happens to be his drawings of him and the girl he likes as wolves nuzzling together.

That's the kicker here that's making him go fucking bonkers. Hunter draws wolves all the time and he shoves them in the face of everybody who will look but drawing himself and Willow being affectionate wolves is a HUGELY personal thing. Hunter's equivalent of pouring his heart out in a love letter or whatever.

And God if Willow happened to catch him in the act and he's got nowhere to throw it, he might be inclined to eat the fucking sketchbook. He was SO in the zone and SO gushy that Willow sneaking up on him spooked out a full blown scream of terror. His whole face is set fucking ablaze. All he can really do with the sketchbook is drop it, fucking lunge after it and clumsily scrabble to make a grab for it before it hits the floor and clutch the stupid thing close against his chest like it's his first born, still heaving as he recovers from his fright.

Willow hadn't meant to scare him, she just wanted to see what he was doing. He was usually excited to show her his little drawings. He'd also blush really bad when she complimented them, which was super cute, so Willow usually sought out stuff to praise him for. Wasn't hard. He WAS the coolest dude ever.

Willow can absolutely tell he's embarrassed and she assumes it's because he doesn't think his latest drawing is very good. He often points out when he messes up proportions or other errors, so it's not unlike him to be shy about showing others art he's not proud of.

"Can I see your drawing?" She asks with a soft smile. She has no intention of pushing it if he says no, but she's always curious to see the stuff he makes.

But a detail Willow hasn't entirely grasped yet (she gets the basics) is that the softer her voice gets, the harder it is for Hunter to tell her no. He can clearly tell she's not pressuring him into anything. He can tell she's giving him plenty of an option to keep this to himself. She's always just SO nice to him and ugghhhh!!!!

Completely mute, eyed locked on the floor, ears scalding, Hunter ends up handing her the sketchbook.

And Willow goes completely fucking batshit insane.

"Is this us??" She demands, pumped as hell. "Is this us as beasts??? That's so fucking cool!!! Look at sharp your teeth are, look how awesome my hair looks!!!" She catches him by the face and squeezes his cheeks "You are SO talented!!!"

Willow praises him RELENTLESSLY and Hunter's just there like

He really does gobble her attention up. He really does. Gets him all floaty and smiley for hours afterwards. Nerd.

Anyway Willow is obviously aware he has a bit of a thing for her but she doesn't know a lot about wolves. So the specifics of their little affectionate touches in the doodles completely fly over her head.

"Are our wolf selves friends?" She asks "Is that why we're hugging like that?"

Hunter's ears light up like poppies and, knowing full well that he added those gestures of affection with the idea in mind that their wolfsonas were mated for life, decides to choke out "Um. Yeah. We're friends."

Its not technically a lie. They're just very good friends.

Anyway Hunter nearly fucking faints later that day when Willow tucks her head in the crook of his neck, nuzzles into it then smiles up at him and says "It's just like we're wolves :D 💕"

#i love cringe!hunter #cringe is such a mean word for what hes doing here and i dont mean it at all. #hes just a kid having fun #but i cant think of a more appropriate adjective #but you KNOW the vibe im describing when i say cringe #the earnest unironic adorable joy kids have for things #and until i can find a better word for that.... #cringe (affectionate) #huntlow

[qoeww]

I'm all in for angst, may I request some hcs of the turtle bros being rejected by their crush?

WHEN YOU REJECT THEM

Warning: Just angst

Characters: Turtle Bros

Author Note: Me trying to recover after the movie and then anon: LDNKDNL- Anyways I hope you like it hun, I wrote a little late, sorry <3

LEO

There is a smile of uneasiness on his face as he opens his feelings to you

"Oh, Y/N I umm- hehe what am I stuttering haha-?"

Finally, he admits his feelings to you, looking at your eyes with shiny eyes

But you haven't got any smile on your face

You tell him his feelings are unrequited

His smile fells slowly, his eyes open in surprise

Looking away so he can deny what happened

"Oh, yeah, ok..."

A strange silence comes between you

He forces himself to joke and laughs to destroy this awkward atmosphere

Because this is how he copes

He'll make up a ridiculous reason and quickly leave you alone

The first weeks he will still talk to you but won't be able to look you in the face

Just this boy needs some time

DONNIE

Everything was going according to the plan

He checked everything and he just need to make final move

He opens his feeling with confident, this is what it looks like from the outside

If you look closely you can see the crusted sores next to his nails

"Yes, YES! We did it, does they like it? Do I Iook cool? Do they-"

"Oh D, I'm sorry but-"

His brain refuses to hear other words, after apologizing he closes his ears(?) out

But... But he was so sure. After all the research he did, you seemed to be in love with him too

Well, scientists can be wrong too

He feels furious, heart broken, emberrassed and sad at the same time

He doesn't speak after you complete your excuse

"Ah, I better go..."

He will devote himself to his work for a long time, does not want to talk to anyone

It will take a long time to assemble

RAPH

This big boy snatched some ideas from everyone

He took your hand and looked at you with the warmest smile in the world

"Y/N, for a long time I had a crush on you. I wasn't sure to open up my feelings but I really like you."

You were afraid to this moment

You noticed how his actions changed, you were trying to imply you didn't have a crush on him

Well looks like he didn't get it

He worries that you can hear the sound of his heartbreaking

For two minutes he will focus on something else to collect himself

"Do you... Do you have someone else in your mind?"

Wants to know the reason for the rejection

He will sit with you a little more

You may feel a pair of eyes watching you sadly behind you for the next few weeks

The moment he sees you his mode will go down

More will go on solo missions, just wants to spend more time alone

Just give him a week, and he will be fine... Probably

MIKEY

You didn't expect this

Really, he always acted so sweet around you and everyone, so you didn't think you were that person, his crush

That's why you tried to figure out if it was a joke in the first minutes when it opened up to you

You tried to reject him with as little hurt as possible

But he is so sensitive

He will not cry next to you because he knows this will make you feel bad

He'll apologize to you like it was a mistake

He'll get up and ask for some time

He will definitely cry a lot in his room, bury his face in the pillow and try to keep his voice down as much as possible

His siblings will help him a lot in coping

He will be drawing in his room with a sad songs

That really helps him to get over it

At first, your friendship will be damaged but it will slowly heal

#rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #tmnt x reader #donatello x reader #rottmnt #leonardo x reader #michelangelo x reader #tmnt headcanons #rottmnt headcanons #raphael x reader

[littleblueberryartist]

Some future Percy Jackson headcanons :D

- He never grows facial hair. Yes this is partially because I don't like drawing facial hair but also I feel like Percy would just take one look at the mirror, realise that he looks like a splitting image of his dad and then shave the whole thing off

- Percy is the malewife trophy husband in this relationship. Yes I HC him with a job (I will get to that later) but it's about the vibes

Like he literally says this in Greek heroes!

He is the trophy husband to Annabeth's successful girlboss wife and he knows it! He does the cooking and cleaning!! (His mother is THE Sally Jackson so you better bet he cooks dam well too)

And I refuse to believe that he and Sally aren't like super tidy people after living with Gabe. Like ADHD disorganization real and true just like me fr but Percy would not let there be trash or bad smells /anywhere/

- Related to the above Percy does not drink

- Percy took a GAP year actually

- Like yes he does actually try and jump back into school like he does in ToA because he is tired of godly bullshit and craves normalcy. But my guy. That is a semester of content you missed along with current school AND you're still prepping for college AND you're still recovering from the war. Something something he does this as a distraction from everything but also because he genuinely wants to have normalcy but after burning out somewhere through the year he is convinced to take a damn break!!!!

- I think the road trip at the end of ToA can still happen but like, just them relaxing and exploring during the GAP year (also redesigning Olympus is Annabeth's BABY man she's putting that over school + she has worse school records than Percy because she's been year round at camp since she was 7 I don't think school convention matters that much to her actually)

- Anyway they take a well deserved break!! (And get therapy hopefully) So by the time they get to college they are in a much better place mentally <3

- With the accomodations from NRU for his learning disabilities Percy actually ends up doing really well and gets better grades than Annabeth! I am a believer of "Percy is smart it's just that he wasn't properly accommodated and also lacked interest in certain subjects" and "Annabeth is naturally gifted and never learnt to study because she coasts through school and wings her tests" (they're both just like me fr)

- Percy ends up picking Marine Biology as a major because he's not actually sure what he wants to study (he's never gotten the chance to think about what he wanted for his future because of the great prophecy) and thinks that "hey even if it's cliche it'll be easier for me"

Cuz like I understand the excitement of finally going to a school that accomodates you and having hope that you'll get an actual chance to succeed. But also school is still hard and Percy probably just wants to get through it too sjsjsjdj. So he doesn't think too hard on it and goes with the perceived most obvious and easiest option. (Also an option he's most likely to show interest in)

Okay! Rubs hands. From here I start talking about my marine rehabilitation center Percy hcs :) (this hc is heavily inspired by this post! I really looked at it a few years ago and never stopped thinking about it lmao)

- Something something Percy is canonically the kid who used to sneak out at night to help free sea creatures in fishing nets and is best friends with Grover "lord of the wild" Underwood and Rachel "activist" Dare. That boy is an environmentalist.

- He ends up finding genuine passion in ocean conservation and gets a degree in environmental conservation along with marine biology

- A while after graduating, he sets up a marine rehabilitation/conservation center of sorts

- Annabeth, who probably makes it big as an architect pretty soon (at least in the half-blood community) designed the building, Rachel helps to fund the whole thing. Grover, who goes around doing conservation work and setting up sanctuaries to help preserve the wild helps a ton with setting up too

- The center helps out both mythical and regular sea creatures. It also acts as a demigod safe house (something something Hazel + the Hecate kids help to set up wards to keep monsters out and also to shroud the mythical aspects of the place with the Mist)

- I dunno if the staff will be only consisting of people in the know or if there are mortals too but I feel like even though the wards at the center aren't as strong as those at the camps, the prospect of a safe working environment would be pretty enticing to demigods so a bunch of them end up interning there for a bit

- speaking of safe environment I feel like while Percabeth study in New Rome they wouldn't live there. Instead Annabeth ends up building something similar to it at CHB. But rather than a whole city, it's more of just apartments close to camp with various safe houses all over the country because I feel like they'd end up vibing in the mortal world more. (Much like this post!)

- The center holds educational field trips to encourage more people to care about the oceans. (I've been on a field trip to a marine rehabilitation center before, I think it'd be something like that but with a bigger, more advanced facility)

- I actually like the hc of Percy becoming an educator to help kids like him and also go full circle with the whole "why would anyone want to be a teacher for all time" thing with Chiron in TLT. But rather than become a teacher he ends up being an educator and advocator for environmental conservation. Might be invited to be a guest speaker at schools from time to time.

- Oh also he's still a teacher in that Percy teaches swordfighting and canoeing at camp send tweet

#pjo #hoo #toa #riordanverse #percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #headcanon #marine rehabilitation center!percy #aqua's ramblings #heeheehoohoo little do you know that this is also the set-up for my demisona meeting Percy

[spicysagittarius]

MJ comes home after a really frustrating day, but thankfully, her best friend and roommate Peter knows exactly what she needs to relax 😏

This one's a little long, apologies!

“And then..oh, fuck, Pete, get this, then he said that Marcus wasn’t gonna get marked down, because it wasn’t him who’d dealt with the customer, even though she’s his regular and his mistake! I mean, how fucking ridiculous is that, right?” MJ groans, her head in Peter’s pillow as he rubs her shoulders. 

“So ridiculous,” he muses. He really, really wishes he could focus right now, because it’s totally invalidating and rude not to, but…she’s wearing those shorts again. The ones made of thin cotton, the ones that don’t exactly cover her ass, and he’s biting his lip hard enough to draw blood with how much he’s trying to steer his focus away from it. He’s seen these shorts plenty of times; they do live together. He’s just never seen them this up close before. Just a brush of his hand away…

No. He can’t. And if he doesn’t manage to act normal right now, she’s gonna notice he’s…

“Peter?” Shit. She’s stopped ranting. He’s such a goddamn perv. Not to mention an awful best friend. 

“What? Oh, sorry.” He tries to laugh it off casually, resuming his motions on her upper back. After a few seconds, he can tell he’s hit a point of tension because she fucking whimpers. The noise almost makes him jump. His cock throbs unfairly in his boxer briefs. 

“Fuck, that’s so good…” MJ mumbles. He wants to hear that sound again. 

He manages to shut the logical side of his brain off, no matter how stupid that might end up being, he doesn’t care. He’s just…he needs to…

Carefully, he shifts his hands a little lower and rubs deeply into her tense muscles near her spine. She sighs. “Pete, can you get under my shirt?” What? But before he has time to react, she’s reaching behind her to pull the bottom hem of her t-shirt up, up, all the way to her shoulder blades until the bare skin of her back is revealed to him. In plain sight. Oh, he could so die right now. 

“Uh…yep. Yes. I can.” And then he’s touching bare Michelle skin and she’s mewling again and he might be totally off and literally such a pervert but he swears he can smell her? What else could that be? It’s not her perfume, or either of their sweat, or the lavender candle she’s lit in the kitchen past his bedroom door. No, it’s her. He can just tell. And she’s…she’s wet.

“Lower. Go lower.” It’s a sigh that falls from her lips and he doesn’t think he’s been this hard in his entire life. But even still, he manages to move his hands until they’re gripping her bare hips, just above the waistband of those fucking shorts. 

And that’s when she startles him even more by saying: “Shit, I’m so turned on.” He hears her exhale in a laugh. “That’s normal, right? Sorry to make it weird.”

“No, no, not at all, that’s…that’s normal. I think.” He breathes, hoping he sounded convincing. 

She turns her head to the side to meet his eyes. “Okay.” Her eyes remain on his as he continues his movements, even when she moans again and curses under her breath, she never breaks eye contact. It’s the hottest thing he’s ever experienced. The tension is so thick he feels suffocated, but maybe…maybe, he doesn’t mind. 

Yeah, he definitely doesn’t mind, he decides about five minutes later when the shorts have been flung across the room and he’s slipping his fingers into her lacy panties to find that she’s just as wet as he figured. His spidey senses haven’t failed him yet. Michelle’s whining and spreading her legs even wider for him, grazing her hand across the tent in his gym shorts. 

He’s even more sure of it when, another five minutes later, she’s tightening around his fingers as she falls off the edge, sobbing his name in release. 

He doesn’t give her much time to recover. He should feel bad, and maybe he would, if she didn’t smell so fucking sweet, if he wasn’t aching with the need to taste her. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s really sorry. 

But most of him is just focused on yanking her panties to the side and burying his face between her legs, revelling in her shocked squeal and shuddering moan when he sucks her clit into his mouth. Between whimpers, she manages an amused, “Well, this is one way to…fuck..to destress.” 

She’s goddamn right. And it’s decidedly the most effective. 

#petermj #spideychelle #petermj fic #blurbs #petermj smut #peter parker x michelle jones

[edificent]

to mourn the self

Rating: Gen Characters: Nya, Zane Word Count: 927 Cross-Posted to AO3

—

It’s been quiet.

One of those rare moments after victory when they’re allowed to simply be. 

The monastery is… nicer after its reconstruction. And while the others are out learning more about themselves, Zane elected to stay behind today. As did Nya.

“Does it get easier?” Nya abruptly ends the silence they entered minutes ago.

There’s an easy smile on Zane’s face as he moves one of his stones to secure more of Nya’s. “Nya, you are the one who requested to play Go against me. I did not promise I would go easy.”

“Not the game, Zane…”

He looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean… mourning yourself… who you were before you changed. Does that ever stop?”

Zane is quiet as he contemplates her words. He’s had a conversation like this before, with Cole, but he wasn’t as hung up about it after he got his body back. Or if he was, he never expressed it. But Nya… 

She’s always been self-reliant. He understands the feeling, to some extent. Raising yourself tends to do that, and though he recovered his memories of his father that doesn’t erase the years he spent alone before Wu found him. 

He wasn’t expecting her to talk to him about her time with the sea.

“No.” Zane finally says. 

Nya looks frustrated by this.

“Truthfully, I try not to think about it. I am at peace with who I am now but that does not make me not… miss things. I notice differences more often than I would care to admit. For example, in my old body, I used to get hungry. My father designed me to be as close to human functionality as possible. This body is missing those… humanisms. My rebuild was incomplete before I got taken by Chen.”

“Sometimes it feels like my body will turn to liquid all over again.” Nya admits quietly, “Like if I don’t stay focused on staying me I’ll fall apart.”

Zane frowns. “I understand…”

“It’s… the feeling of helplessness.”

“Is… there a reason you asked me this? Rather than Jay or Kai.”

“They don’t… get it. To Kai, I’m his little sister that he still has to watch out for, if I say something like this he’ll get all… Kai about it, you know? Jay would get really sad for me but in that oblivious Jay way that somehow makes you feel more bad for him than yourself. You’re more reasonable than they are and you’ve… experienced something similar.”

“I see.”

They both fall silent. 

“Did…. did you ever feel helpless as the Ice Emperor?”

Zane’s frown deepens. “I… did not know myself as the Ice Emperor. I felt… powerful. I believed my words were just and right. But looking back…”

“None of us blame you for it.” Carefully, she reaches over and places her hand on his, comforting.

Zane draws away, instinctively, “No, of course you don’t. I do not imagine the people of the Never Realm feel similarly, however. It is… frightening to know I am capable of such cruelty. And yes… At times I feel helpless because of it. Which is why I try not to think about it. About who I was before everything.”

“Not knowing yourself is… scary.”

“You felt similarly as the Sea?”

“After enough time I forgot myself. That we’re so fragile to forget who we are? To lose ourselves? I worry about what’s to come, honestly. And it will because Ninjago can never stay saved.” She huffs in annoyance at the last bit.

Zane eases up and laughs softly, “No, it cannot. It feels as though there is something new every year.”

“For once I wish it would just stay saved. I never wanted to be ordinary but I’d like for a break once in a while, y’know? See Ninjago without the perils.”

“A road trip does sound like a pleasant idea. But you might want to consider who you would want to take.”

Nya groans, as she looks back at their game. She makes her move and Zane raises a brow at her decision, though she doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Ugh. I love him, but Jay would complain the entire time about bugs, and Kai is annoying to go on trips with.”

“I have been on a few with Cole, he’s not a bad choice, though he does waste money on buying souvenirs.” One more stone, and... there. “I win, by the way.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been on a trip with Lloyd.” She glances down at the board and frowns, “I was never good at Go, anyways.”

“I’m not sure I have either. Save perhaps to the arcade when he was a younger child.”

“He was such a little shit at that age.” 

“Indeed. To be quite honest, at times I feel bad he had to grow up so fast…”

“Me too, unfortunately prophecies don’t seem to like waiting for people to grow up before thrusting responsibility upon our shoulders.”

Zane hums in agreement, before he switches tracks, “I am not sure I would count any of my trips with Sensei as trips.”

“Oh, Sensei trips are by far the worst. Everything is a lesson to him,” Nya laughs, then pauses, “Zane— let’s go on a road trip together.”

“Me?”

“Yeah! You know more about the ecosystems of Ninjago than anyone else here does, and you won’t have to hoard all the snacks while we drive.”

Zane smiles, glad to see Nya’s spirits rekindled as opposed to earlier. “I would enjoy that.”

#writing.exe #ninjago #ninjago fanfiction #zane julien #nya smith #nya jiang #dude they both kinda died i think they should talk about it #i think at some point i'll write a couple of the things mentioned in here

[i-mybrunettelady]

Ivre d'un rêve heroïque et brutal

Summary: Commander is trying to recover from her last fight with her latest enemy. Unfortunately, it’s not a smooth sailing. Content warnings: Mild blood and mentions of injury. Spoilers: Heavy spoilers for What Lies Beneath (LWS6) Title taken from José-Maria de Heredia’s sonnet, Les Conquérants.

It’s the first time she’s slept for the entirety of the night in days. Nyra’s well familiar with the blurred edges of working on interrupted, bad, or straight up absent sleep; this morning snapped into sharp focus that hasn’t left her since. 

That’s all thanks to Trahearne, his calming presence and the spell he’d devised years ago to combat this very problem. With a frustrated sigh, she admits to herself she couldn’t have done it herself. Allies are a good thing after all, she jokes inwardly, though it fails to produce more than passing, brief amusement. These days, few things can.

It’s been seven days since their encounter with the demon in the mine. Not nearly enough time to recover from merciless claws digging into her regrets and barely healed wounds, not nearly enough time to stop the terrified shake of her hands in the morning. At first, she woke in cold sweat and with trembling shoulders, wiping away tears beading in her eyes still. She could feel Rama and Yao’s sympathetic grimaces and her first instinct was to throw them in their faces. Who the fuck are they to question her strength? 

Thankfully, Nyra isn’t a slave to her instincts and she reminds herself that they both mean well and that they’re friends. Rama’s hand on her shoulder suddenly feels comforting, a far cry from the initial anger she felt bubbling inside her. Oftentimes, she leans into him, lets out a sad, exhausted groan and he wraps his hands around her. It only lasts for a minute or so, but she already feels steadier on her feet. 

Then Trahearne comes, vivacious green in the sea of jade (too vivacious for a necromancer, she thinks; another one of those brief, passing jokes she keeps telling herself) and joins her on her bedroll. His lips are soft on her forehead, his fingers gentle when they rub up and down her arm. That steadies her too. Sharply, she thinks when will Oni decide to fuck with that regret as well. 

It’s only a matter of time, really. And she has to be prepared.

“I’ll help heal injuries here,” she tells Trahearne one night, curled beside him on the bedroll. She looks at her hands. “If I think too hard about things, I’m almost half-sure the demon will have more ammo to use against me. I need something to keep myself occupied.” 

His remaining eye squints slightly. “But you won’t overwork yourself, yes?”

“I can try,” Nyra replies quietly. Her breakdown in Eye of the North is still too fresh to forget. “I can’t promise I won’t slip into it by accident. My head feels so heavy I don’t trust myself not to do it.” 

“I can watch you,” he proposes, reaching out to hold her hand. “Make sure you’re as good as you can reasonably be for Gorrik’s idea.” He considers. “I’m not sure I like it, Lyss. I know what it feels like and to see you go through it–” 

She laughs bitterly. “What other option do we have? If I have to play a sacrificial lamb, I will. Gods know I’ve done so more than once. Gods also know it’s brutal every time but if there were any other alternative, we’d have pursued it already!” She closes her eyes and exhales. “I don’t like it any more than you do, Trahearne. It’s gonna suck so bad, but someone has to do it. When my torture draws the damn thing out, just hit it until it’s dead.” 

“Lyss,” he repeats and pulls her close. “I just don’t want to see you in pain.” 

“I didn’t sign up to be who I am now to live a comfortable life,” she says. “If I wanted that, I would’ve been just another noblewoman from Divinity’s Reach. Me, just another noblewoman? Gods forbid.” 

Trahearne purses his lips. “Just take care of yourself, please.”

“I can try,” she repeats and means it. She can try. Has to, even. 

So here she is, in the mining camp’s healing corner in Gyala Delve, spreading pale blue light on an open injury on a woman’s arm. It’s an ugly one, obviously painful, and Nyra’s not the best of the best at healing, not by a long shot, but she can make these people feel better. She knows her way around poultices, salves and stitches. She knows healing magic, Dwayna’s blessing. In a twisted way, the metallic tang of blood is comforting, familiar. It’s a residue of battle and she gets to wipe it off, but the scent remains. 

Battle never leaves you, after all. She knows as much. 

The injured woman groans when Nyra guides her magic to stitch the flesh shut. Guardian healing can, in truth, feel a little invasive. Despite the supposedly unsettling way her eyes look, Nyra never breaks eye contact when she guides her down and whispers in a soft tone, “Rest now. It’ll feel better in a bit. And do try to not strain that arm much for the next few days, yeah?” 

“Yes, Commander,” the woman intones, exhausted but still horribly formal. Nyra pushes sweaty hair from her forehead and smiles slightly. She knows it doesn’t look very convincing - people think she’s angry half the time, for fuck’s sake - but she tries anyway. 

Dying light of day reflects, rickety, in the reflection of the water bowl where she washes her hands. For a brief moment, Nyra observes the way blood sticks to the scars on her hands and knuckles, bright red against faintly scorched skin. Once, she would’ve shivered in discomfort over running her fingertips over it, but now it’s a part of her. 

There’s so much blood on her hands. The thought comes uninvited, sneaky little shit. Nyra vividly remembers Apatia’s blood on her hands when she killed her ten years ago. Trahearne’s sap, when she ran through him with Caladbolg, seven years ago. What had Almorra said? That she hasn’t changed, that all she does is kill and corrupt? Nyra turns sharply to the injured woman. Her arm is still red, but mostly fine. 

If she wasn’t careful, she could’ve killed her. 

Nyra’s never washed her hands faster in her life. She leaves wet handprints on the wooden table as she leans over it, watching her own wide eyes in the bloodied surface of the water, trying to catch her breath. In and out. In and out. 

Hands hover over her arms. She knows Trahearne’s presence like the palm of her hand, a heavy blanket against her shivering body. “Are you alright?” he asks, hushed. Nyra shakes her head and grips the table tightly. 

“I think I need to take a break,” she says. Before, she would’ve pushed herself, powered through the panic; now she needs every bit of that strength she can muster. One battle, a failure at that, doesn’t mean the end of a war. She must strategise, try to outmaneuver that fucking creature. 

She feels her breathing even out. Trahearne’s holding her arms in a comforting grip, but it’s the tactical approach that makes her think straight once more. She’s a soldier, after all; why not use what’s at her disposal as such? Still, her hands are shaking and she still feels like a giant, human-shaped, raw wound. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” Trahearne lets go of her arms to hold her hand. “Some tea?” 

“Tea would be nice,” she replies, holding onto the way he rubs her fingers like a lifeline. “Very, very nice.” 

He leans over to softly kiss her on the lips. “We’ll get one cup of tea for the lady, then,” he whispers. 

She’ll outmaneuver the enemy however she must, one cup of tea at the time.

#gw2 #inspo birb has come to town #eod spoilers #lws6 spoilers #alysannyra #trahearne #trammander #detective rama #hi im jumping on the angst fic train :)))) #also the image of a nyra with rbf and just. muted emotionless eyes smiling slightly as a way to comfort someone is sending me #that woman has many things but a comforting face? god no #still she tries #and we have a trahearne!!! #we missed him!!! #anyway. enjoy this fic #return of the nyra #gw2 pact commander #gw2 writing #gw2 fanfic #my writing

[fe-fictions]

Can I please request Female Alear comforting Gregory and Alcryst separately after they had a nightmare. They are my top two favorites.

(Yes of course!! What a cute prompt idea!!!)

Alcryst: It’s obvious that he’s deeply shaken by the nightmare that had jolted him awake. But he did not want to alarm you, and he didn’t want you to think less of him despite also waking you up with his thrashing.

“I-i-it’s nothing. I’m sorry I w-woke you.” He stuttered through an apology, his face pale and his fingers quivering. 

You’re quick to his side, rubbing circles on his back even though he can’t bring himself to look up at you.

“It’s not nothing if you’re upset. You don’t have to apologize…you know that.” You reminded him gently, giving him a soft smile when he managed to glance your direction for a half second. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Alcryst sighs deeply, clearly not sure if he was willing or able to talk about anything at all. You drew closer to him, pulling him in so that his head rested on your chest, and you wrapped your arms tightly around the Brodian prince.

“It wasn’t…a-anything I haven’t said before.”

“Another nightmare about the war?” 

He did not reply, but the quiet nod was the only answer you needed. You sank into the mattress with him, pullin ghim into you as tightly as you could. Alcryst, at first, only remained in your arms, taking in the feeling of your comfort.

But then a shaky sigh escaped his lips, and his arms wrapped around you in return, tighter than ever. He clung to you, burying his face in your chest and accepting the litany of kisses and cuddles you would never dare keep from him.

“Do you want to go for a walk? Play some chess, maybe?” You asked him quietly, “I know that it’s easier to recover when you can focus on something else.”

He shook his head. “...No. This is good.”

You stroked his hair. 

“Thank you, Alear…”

“Anything for you, my love.” You giggled softly, “If I could take away those awful dreams, I absolutely would.”

“No, no…this is perfect. I promise.”

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

Gregory: The first thing that happens is a sharp gasp.

He rocks the whole bed with the sudden jolt, covered in cold sweat and all but shaking. His gaze is not focused ona nything but the darkness in front of him, and the feel of his heart thundering in his chest as he struggles for air.

Naturally you wake up within moments, and it does not take long for you to piece together what happened.

The trauma he suffered his whole life was bad enough- but the struggles he endured throughout the war…the decisions he had to make, and the lives he would take…

It was not something that he would wish upon even the worst of his enemies. Being incapable of escaping his memories, even in the depths of sleep, was something that tormented him terribly.

And it was a fact you knew quite well.

“Hold on, darling.” You whisper in the dark. He cannot see you clearly, but he feels your warm hand press to his back before you slip away. The bed shifts as you get up, and he is left alone.

But only for a moment.

Within a single breath you have returned, with an armful of the softest plush animals. You pressed one of them into his arms. You would step away two more times, with each return harolin another delivery of plushes.

“I’m being careufl,” You said softly, “I don’t want them to be damaged.”

“It’s fine.” He hates the crack in his voice, but he knows that you don’t care. 

You slide back onto the bed beside him. He rests his head on your shoulder, still in the silence of the dark.

“Want me to light a candle?”

He nods.

There is another shift, some shuffling, a murmured fire spell, and then…there’s light.

Your gaze is warm, but your smile is pinched- giving away your worry. His head touches your shoulder again, and one of his arms slips around your waist, to draw you as physically close asp ossible.

You kiss his temple, covering his hand with your own.

“I’m here, Gregory. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know.”

He’s gruff, and husky, but he’s wide awake. And thankfully, mercifully, so are you.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You feel him shake his head again. “Not yet.”

“Okay.” 

He feels you thread your fingers with his, interlocking them carefully. He squeezes your hand, drawing it to his lips for a chaste kiss.

He can feel your heartbeat speed up.

“Hey, now- I’m supposed to be comforting you. Now’s not the time for wooing.”

It does earn you a smile, and a clipped, solitary chuckle. But it’s a sign that he’s not completely spiraled; tonight was just a little gentler on him than usual.

"I can’t help it. I want to make sure you know how I feel.” He mumbled, “Thank you for looking after me, again.”

“I know you’d do the same for me. It’s not even a question.” You assured him, hugging him softly. “Should we try to go back to sleep?”

“Not yet.” He fiddles with the plush in his other hand. “Let’s stay like this a while longer.”

“Certainly. Just let me know if you need more stuffed animals- I’ll cover you head to toe.”

A promise you would be more than willing to deliver on after Gregory called your bluff. He knew he had a lot of stuffed toys, but surely not enough to be buried in.

You were quick to prove him wrong, which also helped to free him from the night terror’s clutches. After all, how could anyone stay upset when they were snuggled beneath a mountain of soft toys?

And, of course, covered in their beloved’s kisses?

#alcryst #gregory #alear #fe engage #fire emblem engage #fe 17 #alear x alcryst #alear x gregory #alcrear #grelear #fe fictions #fe-fictions #f!alear #fem!alear #f!mu #fluff #angst #hurt and comfort #nightmare prompt #THEY ARE BOTH SO SOFT #AND IN THIS HOUSE #WE PROTECT AND COMFORT #OUR SOFT BOYS

[lady-moriel]

Part 45

beginning / previous / next

Моя группа ВК, история на русском.

Music 🎶

Tyrael: By the will of the celestial bodies that the light was taken from you, I will draw your fate - to look at the world with your own eyes. Klaus: Was it necessary to inflict blindness on me? Tyrael: If I hadn't cast a spell on you, there wouldn't have been such an effect, would you agree? Look around, isn't it a beautiful place? I came across it while walking a couple of nights ago. I thought that the bard of the College of Knowledge would be very inspired by it. Tyrael: You've been complaining lately that your muse has abandoned you. Klaus: So you did it for me? How touching! Tyrael: What wouldn't you do to keep from hearing you whine. Klaus: *thinking* It sounds a lot like a date to me. Tyrael: Rejoice that it was not Dorian who was left with you, otherwise you will have to stay in bed until you are fully recovered. Klaus: I would have retired to the divine halls earlier out of boredom. On the other hand, with you, I would gladly observe the “bed” rest. Klaus: Really very inspiring. In the sprawling garden in the distance of human settlements, the elf led to the search for inspiration. The beautiful woman did not know that fate had chosen her as my muse until the end of her days. Tyrael: Amazing, Klaus! Not a word of blatant vulgarity. You give up positions. Klaus: Ah yes! You know I'm a ladies' man, I'll please you too. In the sprawling garden in the distance of human settlements, with an elf, I came for carnal entertainment. Tyrael: But that elf was not so simple, and only a barrel of wine will entertain the rogue. Klaus: And after a wine barrel, any drunken toothless old woman will do… wow! Tyrael: Ha-ha, not bad, not bad! Come on, I haven't shown everything yet. Klaus: I hope there will be no toothless old women? Klaus: If I could read the stars, I would ask them why you ran away from home. But I'm not an astrologer, so I'm asking you personally. Tyrael, you are from a noble family, you had everything that the soul of a mere mortal could only wish for. I won't judge you. Tyrael: Everything but freedom. Those in positions of power have far more responsibilities than the average person has a duty to family and people…. I… I'm not ready. I don't want to spend my whole life in a golden cage. I still have a lot to learn. Klaus: I remember how hard it was for you at the beginning. Change is painful. But there is nothing more painful than staying where you don't belong. Tyrael: Let's not spoil this evening with sad conversations. Let me show you something else. It's a full moon tonight, remember? Tyrael: The radiance of the full moon reveals the true essence of the universe.

#forgotten realms #ts4 #sims 4 #sims4 #simblr #the sims 4 #sims 4 edit #sims screenshots #ts4 series #sims 4 series #sims series #ts4 story #sims 4 story #ts4 fantasy #sims 4 fantasy

[holyhomo]

hi holy! i am currently having a viveka brainrot 🙏🏼

may i have silly facts about her 🤔 it would be greatly appreciated as i love NSN 🫶🏼

Happy to hear you love NSN that’s a big compliment!

Viveka facts you say, yeah I got some! Also you are in luck as next chapter focuses on Viveka and Freya!

So she’s legitimately really, really weird. She’s actually obsessed with Freya to the point that she wants their DNA to be stored for future use. And with that I don’t just mean their sixth child, but as in having someone hundreds of thousands of years later use it.

Yes really.

Viveka instilled the concept of ‘quiet rich/stealth wealth’ into her children and hates the fact that other families flaunt their wealth. This is why Gunhildr, Ragna and Ylva and the twins don’t act stereotypical rich and aren’t as spoiled as say Oline and Yulie.

Sure Freya owns luxury items, but that’s mainly because she mentioned once that she always looked in awe at those bags and clothes as a young child. But besides that Viveka, Freya and their kids didn’t grow up wearing popular luxury brands like Gucci, Versace and what else, but custom tailored pieces and high quality brands.

While she isn’t the best father on a emotional level, she sincerely does love all her children. (Because they are her children with Freya. Good thing neither of them have any kids with anyone else)

She was actually pretty hands on earlier in the lives of her kids (even though she wasn’t very good at it). Kinda until *that night*. There is a reason why this stopped, but besides saying that it’s not her fault and that it made her hate her younger sisters guts even more, it’s too much of a spoiler to mention.

She never complained about being on diaper duty while Bridget recovered from birth up until Gunhildr one day pissed on her as she was changing her. She never changed another diaper again, because Gunhildr kept doing it but only when Viveka tried to change her!

She also would frequently return home from overseas work trips with gifts and toys for her wife and kids. Such as a tamagachi for Gunhildr. Gunhildr ended up having it taken from her in elementary school and the thing died. So Viveka got her a new one and had one of the staff members or herself tend to it while Gunhildr was in school.

Still she is distant, demanding, cold, and even called her own children slurs like the R word. Though she has actually become a less bad parent over the years.

She absolutely fucking hates her own parents though. Not that you can really blame her though. Her mother is an alcoholic serial cheater that, as mentioned in story, even tries to get with her grandkids their partners! Her father meanwhile was not only distant but considering Viveka to never be good enough, even though she majorly improved the family business. Viveka’s dad was also physically abusive.

And final one!

Now that Freya is pregnant again, she’s wearing that chastity belt even more than ever before because even being an hour apart is too much for Freya.

Also here’s the pictures of Viveka and Freya that will be used on the wiki (cause I definitely lost my ability to draw…)

#hh asks