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bitterchocoo · 2 days

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Well Deserved Rest

Dr. Veritas Ratio | M. Reader as Medicine Pocket [Reverse: 1999]

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Tsundere Ratio will forever live rent free in my head. That was totally canon!

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"Hey hey! Veritas!"

That annoying voice again.. how many times has he heard it today? It's so annoying.. so high pitched and loud, like a dog, happily barking at their favorite person.

"For the last time, it's Dr. Ratio! Don't call me by name so casually!" He groans at the other's enthusiasm and seemingly endless energy. For the past few years he had known the researcher. [Name] never fails to get on his nerves. Be it the constant teasing or the dog-like demeanor. The only thing he ever decided to tolerate the man is because of his reputation for being a genius amongst geniuses and gaining his current position when he was a mere teenager.

"Look look! I made this serum that presumably—" "I swear if this is one of your unauthorized experiments!"

Not only is he a genius amongst geniuses.. [Name] seems to have a reputation of doing whatever the hell he wants. Paperwork? That can wait! Research? Why should he care about following the status quo? Only when something had caught his attention, that's when the researcher began to actually do his work.

Sometimes Ratio feels like he's babysitting a child—or rather a dog. Given the other's background.

How many times has [Name] decided to chew on the ends of his robe? How many times has [Name] licked his cheek without a second thought?

Honestly...

"Aw come on, Veritas! Can't you live a little?" [Name] asked teasingly, tilting his head to the side, acting all adorable in order to persuade the doctor. Which didn't work. Or so he told himself. "It's not living if you constantly experiment on dangerous unauthorized things! It's called being foolish!"

This earns a chuckle from the other. He sure knows how to get on Ratio's nerves like it's merely looking at the back of his hand. It seems like second nature to him. "You're so boring! Didn't take you to be a stickler to the rules!"

"It's called self preservation!"

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How did this happen..? How in the galaxy had he managed to land himself in this position..? What is it? Nap time? He's out like a light!

Earlier, [Name] had decided to annoy him again, typical, but Ratio was having none of it. So like any other sane person, he ignores the genius in favor of the book he's currently reading. But of course that didn't stop [Name] from teasing and poking him. Trying to get a reaction.

But as time went on. The researcher seems to have worn himself out and started to doze off. Now, Ratio sits there with a book in hand but despite that, his mind was in other places as his gaze shifted towards the sleeping genius who had his head on his shoulder and his right arm being hugged by the other in his sleep.

He's out like a light! What time even is it? Nap time? Maybe it's [Name]'s constant all-nighter he pulls whenever he's so absorbed by his research and experiment? Or is this a by product of his dog-like nature?

Either way, this can't continue!

But when Ratio tries to wake him up, [Name] doesn't seem to respond to it, at all. Sleeping like a rock. So... Ratio decided to just.. let him rest..

Maybe he needs it?

Every time Ratio tries to focus on the book he's reading his mind would always drift towards the sleeping researcher that's using him as a human pillow.

He could feel [Name]'s warm breath hitting his exposed biceps, his shallow and calm breathing, it never fails to send a shiver down his spine. He's so.. comfortable.. so.. at peace..

He's far different than the usual hyperactive, seemingly endless energy researcher he's known for! And that.. makes him feel.. warm..

To think he'll have the honors of witnessing such a rare, vulnerable, and.. intimate side of [Name].. it's..

Ratio snapped out of his thoughts once he felt the other began to stir and slowly woke up from their nap. A nice and comfortable nap. [Name] blinks, once, twice. Before letting out an adorable yawn.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Ratio spoke up, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I assume you've had a nice nap."

"Oh I did! It was sooo nice~" [Name] took the chance to tease the other as he hugged Ratio's arm closer to his chest with a huge grin plastered on his face. The doctor huffs as he begins trying to shake the other's hold on his arm. "Then get off of me, you damn dog. My arm is tired."

[Name] chuckles in response as he tightens his grip. He hums softly and rests his cheek on Ratio's shoulder, looking at him with big puppy eyes. Trying to act all cute and adorable. "But if your arm's tired, why didn't you just shoved me? You could have done that earlier, right doctor?"

This caught him off guard for a few moments. What is he supposed to say to that? [Name] let out a gasp upon seeing his hesitation. "Don't tell me that you actually enjoy it! Aw~ Ratio you could have just said so! I could have been your cuddle buddy from the start!"

"Cuddle buddy!? How absurd! You dare think that I—Dr. Veritas Ratio. Would ever need such things!? Especially from you?!"

"But your face is red~ I'm right aren't I~?"

"?!"

#seme male reader #top male reader #x male reader #reverse 1999 #reverse 1999 medicine pocket #medicine pocket #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x male reader #hsr #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #hsr ratio #dr veritas ratio #hsr dr ratio #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x male reader

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comradekatara · 22 hours

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Genuinely asking—what changes would you make to the adult gaang designs? :)

this is such a fun question thank u for enabling me. i mean i draw them as adults sometimes so also check out my /oldergaang tag if u want visuals (altho i also change my designs a lot because my art is nothing if not inconsistent) but if i was just going with like standard character designs like if i could redesign that hideous “old friends” poster for example…

aang: get rid of that fucking. chinstrap. don’t give him white man features because what the hell is that. and let him wear his off the shoulder monk robes from book 3 because he was slaying with that fit. actually the way aang is drawn in imbalance is basically perfect i would retain that design into adulthood. thank u peter wartman for all that u do….

katara: i don’t mind the older katara design (from the little we see of it) but it’s also not nearly as cunty and slayful as i would like. katara is genuinely interested in fashion and loves experimenting with clothes and hair and makeup, i refuse to believe that as she ages and has more resources to tailor her style to her own personal tastes she wouldn’t get a little funky with it. like she kind of just looks boring and uninspired in her older design, and that’s unacceptable to me because she should be hot. adult katara should be the hottest woman you have ever seen in your life. and she should be buff, also. shredded, even.

toph: any signifiers of copness are obviously unacceptable to me. but even more that than, it’s very important to me that older toph is distinctly butch. i think she would cut her hair the second she realizes that there is no reconciliation to be found with her parents and that there is no reason to adhere to those confucian values. and she would wear a lot of sleeveless outfits (sort of like the shirt korra wears in “korra alone”) to show off her biceps and also space bracelet (spacelet) that is her prized possession forever. and she’s just kind of a hot hippie butch legend . period.

zuko: in the old friends poster he literally looks like a lizard so just like. no. wtf. and i like his long hair in theory but i don’t like that it’s styled after ozai and not ursa, i think his hair would be shwoopier and frame his face more. and his robes should be less spiky and militaristic and more designed for comfort because that’s what makes him feel most like his true authentic self and he deserves that. also weird for a guy who is trying to demilitarize the fire nation to wear an armor-adjacent type of outfit. so mainly he’d just look softer and more like his mom.

sokka: i hate buff goatee whitewashed sokka that is some kind of demon. lok did so little with him and yet said so much (all of it egregiously wrong, ofc). sokka would be fairly tall (although not as tall as aang) and have defined muscle but in a sinewy, lanky way. and despite always having enough to eat he’d still look somewhat malnourished just because he’s constantly overworked and exhausted and never takes care of himself. and his ponytail would be longer but he’d still shave the sides. and the older he gets the darker his clothes get until he basically just wears black all the time because at some point he realizes that it’s more advantageous to remain culturally ambiguous if he’s gonna be a cosmopolitan. and he wears glasses (which were a gift from kuei). and sometimes he uses a cane because he didn’t sufficiently take care of his broken leg after the war ended and now he’s paying the price for it. and his cane has a blade inside too, but he rarely ever even pulls out the blade because he can incapacitate someone with just a wooden stick anyway. so he looks like if a nerd was a shadow was about to collapse at any given moment was secretly ruling the entire world. and he’s not in any sort of front-facing position of power whatsoever but he’s actually pulling all the strings from behind the scenes, and it’s exhausting. his eyebags are visible from outer space.

suki: i don’t even think there is a “canon” adult suki character design besides her in her kyoshi warrior armor and makeup but to me casual suki just starts dressing more like sokka. like the loose baggy sleeveless shirts (except in a lighter shade of blue bc kyoshi island colors) and tight pants and boots. it’s a very dykey look already and they’re basically girlfriend twins so their styles would merge even more than it already has within the show itself. like sometimes people think that sokka and suki are siblings because they dress so similarly and give off such a similar vibe and they’re just like “but we’re literally different ethnicities??? and also we are currently making out????”

okay bonus round bc i can’t just neglect them

azula: she cuts her hair really short and as an adult leaves it to shoulder length for the most part because that’s more comfortable for her. like zuko, she also starts dressing for comfort, and for a period in her late teens stops wearing makeup altogether. she gets back into wearing makeup as an adult, but she stops caring about whether or not she leaves the house with lipstick on, and it becomes more about the process for her than the result. she’s comfy and cute and dykey.

mai: sokka is her lesbian style icon so after her first haircut that was inspired by toph’s haircut to piss off her parents, she gets an undercut and starts wearing her hair in a ponytail like sokka. as she gets older she also gets more confident in her body and doesn’t feel like she needs to wear baggy long-sleeved clothing at all times or she’ll die. and she isn’t rail thin as an adult either because she starts letting herself eat more than a single grain of rice at a time. also, she gets a sword.

ty lee: she becomes a kyoshi warrior so she starts incorporating more blues and greens into her wardrobe, but also more oranges and yellows after she embraces her air nomad heritage. and she just dresses very colorfully and has a vast rotation of different cute little outfits. and i think she’d also experiment with different hairstyles once she has the freedom to define herself outside of the aesthetics expected of her. she looks beautiful always

haru: he finally shaves that thang

#shadowoftheraven15 #asks #the gaang and #postwargaang #oldergaang

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beenbaanbuun · 1 day

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hi i wanna ask if dove ever fought with seonghwa or hongjoong like full on disagreeing and just arguing? and what was it like ^____^ i really love ur Addams!Matz fic and seeing you post smth new related to it makes my day!

darling has tiny arguments with hongjoong on a semi-regular basis. despite her tendency to roll over and submit, she’s actually surprisingly hard headed and if hongjoong claims that she broke a rule that she doesn’t agree with, then she is going to give that man hell. the problem is, hongjoong is equally as stubborn and it sometimes ends up with the house being a full on war zone. snarky comments over a game of chess, silent glares over dinner; it’s just an all round hostile environment and seonghwa just tends to be on the sidelines watching it all go down.

“you can’t move your piece there,” hongjoong deadpans as he watches you do an illegal chess move. normally he’d just laugh it off and gently correct you, but he can’t find it in himself to do that when his blood is still boiling from that mornings conversation.

“well if you can make up rules, then so can i,” you fold your arms in defiance and hongjoong finds himself seething. if he were calmer, he’d drag you over his lap and teach you a lesson about being a brat, but just like you had your rules, they had theirs. no punishments out of anger was a pretty important one; they didn’t want to end up hurting you whilst getting their frustrations out. “and i say i want to put my castle there…”

it usually ends up with seonghwa having to step into the metaphorical firing line, because hell below, he and yeosang are sick and tired of it! the constant back and forth has driven the two of them to insanity and if he has to put a stop to it himself then he absolutely will. seonghwa isn’t a believer in anger, and so he will make them sit down and air out their grievances in a calm and collected manner. he’ll even implement a talking stick of absolutely necessary. as long as the two of them aren’t at odds by the time they slip themselves beneath the comforter or their bed, seonghwa will be happy.

for that very reason, darling and seonghwa almost never argue. if she doesn’t agree with seonghwa on anything, he will just nod and offer to talk it through with her when he’s less busy. sometimes she agrees and step down, but sometimes it’s clear that she’s looking for a fight and she tries to push it further. it’s infuriating because no matter how hard she tries, seonghwa just keeps his cool and answers her as if it’s any other conversation. he knows she only does it when she’s in a bad mood, so his first port of call is usually tackling whatever it is that’s getting you down.

“but i just don’t understand how it’s fair,” you snarl, your pacing coming to a stop right in front of where he sits on the chez. he doesn’t even look at you as you growl out your words, and it drives you mad. you stomp your foot in frustration, the loud noise irritating the man just ever-so-slightly. he lets out a deep sigh.

“i said we’ll talk about it later, lamb,” he hums with disinterest as he flicks over the page of his book. you’re fuming above him, chest rising and falling heavily as you glare at him. he lets his gaze flick up to your face, an unimpressed look resting on his features. “what? are you looking for an argument or something? you know i won’t give you one so why don’t you come and sit with me until you’ve calmed down.”

#ateez x reader #matz x reader #opposites attract universe

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faetreides · 2 days

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summary: priest!leto x afab!reader x priest!paul (title from scorpio by pour vous)

cw: blasphemy if i’m being so real, spit roasting, reader is lowkey losing it but they’ll be okay, dubcon, pwp-ish (there’s set up but it’s not that long imo), mention of paul being into predator/prey, daddy kink coded without the actual daddy kink, horror elements, unreliable narrator vibes, mention of them being willing to non con reader if things didn’t go their way, no incest between leto & paul 💀, reader’s their sad loser turned attic spouse, mention of eventual impreg, implied soft dom!leto & mean dom!paul, religious practice inaccuracies, possibly predictable plot twists, implied painful anal but reader’s too out of it to feel it, implied natural aphrodisiac in their spit, reader bleeds

wc: 2.5k

block & move on if uncomfortable,

do not translate/repost/give my works to ai

please consider commissioning me or leaving me a tip !!

You’ve been feeling… lost. The trees keep secrets from you and the clouds mix together like egg whites. You wish you knew what kind of pill you need to be on, you wish you knew what was wrong with you. You’re paranoid and seeing blank eyes watching you through the brick and mortar of your apartment. Your skin burns hotter than hell and sometimes you think that there are claws grabbing at your ankles when you sleep.

Church hasn’t been something you’ve bothered to attend since you were a kid, but you yearn for it now.

You pull your tattered coat around yourself as you step into the ancient building. The Church of Caladan is the oldest church in the country, if not the world. You hope you don’t look silly when you take caution with how hard your feet hit the stone. ‘You break it, you buy it’ must apply to old churches too.

Your unease rolls off you in waves, and a couple nearby priests seem to sense it in the same way that horses can sense fear. For a second you imagine bursting into flames, but there are hands groping your flesh through the great hellfire.

They’re about even in height, though one is clearly older. The gray hair weaved into his temples suits him more than it shows his age. The younger man has the same dark and wavy hair, but his gaze is a touch more haggard and rife with burden.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn't have burst in here…. I'm just looking around.” You rush to explain so they would go away, internally cringing at yourself.

“No, we want newcomers to feel comfortable enough to ask questions. I’m Leto,” He says and shakes your hand. “And this is my son, Paul. He’s recently started working here at the church with me.”

Paul steps up to shake your head as well, his mouth doesn’t move but you swear that the corners twitch. The stained glass windows cast a multicolored hue on his eyes and you find yourself lost in the swirling pools of light. Then black holes swallow the brightness in the irises, cosmic cannibalism.

You blink in alarm and awkwardly take a step back from the two priests. Father and son share a look between them that has the hairs on the back of your neck standing them.

Leto clears his throat and pointedly grabs your hands in both of his, encapsulating them in his warmth.

“You’ll have to forgive him, Paul’s never dealt with a lamb as darling as you before. He’s never dealt with one at all actually, you two can go through this together.”

Paul smiles but it fits all wrong, with teeth that should be fangs and with a tongue that appears forked. You blink again and all is well, the man before you fits his human skin like a glove. Maybe you should give them the benefit of the doubt, you’re convinced you’re going crazy anyway and Priests would never be capable of hurting someone. Ghosts aren’t real and Demons are just a crazed mother’s bedtime story.

“Um, okay. Thank you for accepting me.” That’s all you want, deep down, and they know that. “I felt moved to be here, I can’t explain it.”

Leto nods and Paul rubs your shoulder in sympathy. They would hiss that they know full well what called you here, but you might bleat and scurry away. You make a sad picture, abandoned and half insane, but that’s what they are for. To soothe and to serve you, to purify you from the inside out.

“Then all the more reason to stay and sit for a moment, don’t you think?” Paul finally speaks, the boyish tone surprising you.

“Paul’s right, let’s get this jacket off you, poor lamb. You must be freezing to death.” Leto coos, shushing your protests and carefully pulling the cheap thing off of you.

They take you on a little tour of sorts, pointing out the architectural details of the building itself as well as passionately delving into its history. Centuries of worship and service to the community, strangely never having sustained any kind of property damage. The priests speak of the church as if they were wandering through the halls all this time, and they chuckle when they tease you about how relieved they were that you didn’t suffer from a nosebleed. They’re quite common apparently.

“I think that should do it, i’d hate to think that we’ve been talking your ear off, dear.” Leto says, rubbing the inside of your wrist and directing you towards the large piano on the stage at the front of the church.

He must notice the sudden spark in your eyes at the sight, because his crow’s feet wrinkles deepen as he pulls the black piano bench out. Leto’s palm spreads out wide and he gives the leather seat a firm pat, signaling for you to sit down. Butterflies swirl in your stomach with anxiety but you feel too shy to refuse the clearly eager offer. You take a seat in front of an onyx grand piano far grander than you’re used to seeing in a church.

Leto soon occupies the space next to you. The bench is small enough that your thigh is pressing against his, warmth bleeds through your clothes and the indication of muscle really makes you wish you were alone in your room with a rose toy. You place your fingers on the pristinely polished keys and clumsily play some hodgepodge of a melody that you remember from your childhood. A mix of tchaikovsky and children's church songs.

You jump and play the wrong note when you feel thick fingers slide up your thigh. Your cheeks burn with heat but you focus on the music. Leto sighs with sugary sweet satisfaction but doesn’t move his fingers any further. He also doesn’t try to play, it’s almost like he only wants to bask in the domesticity of watching you perform. You think you hear him whisper “That’s it, who knew such a talented lamb would be gracing our doorstep?”

You get a flash of riding him on the piano, gasping into his hair chest when it breaks under the weight of your passion. Thin fingers come from behind to caress your ass as it moves, much colder than the cock you’re bouncing on. Then it fades away, and you’re back to making a fool of yourself with your little song.

Paul watches from the pulpit, eyes drinking in the way your curves expand and move as you squirm. His grip tightens on the bright wood but you’re none the wiser. You almost forget that he’s even there, something which he realizes because he strolls to stand behind you and his father. The music stops once you feel his breath on your neck and he bends down to tenderly pull your hair off of your shoulder, getting himself acquainted with the texture as he rubs his fingertips down the strands.

A distant voice calls out for Leto and he stands, smiling apologetically and thanking you for the performance. You feel adrift as you watch him walk away, reminding yourself that a man like him has other things to do than coddle you.

Paul slides a hand down your back and guides you down to the pew right up front, with a view of center stage, sitting right beside you with a wink. Once Leto returns, you spot the silver tray of communion wafers in his hands. The tray is set on the pulpit by his side.

The older man's eyes darken as he puts one in his mouth, and your brain shuts down when he snatches your face in his rough palms and kisses you sense no less. The wafer cracks as his tongue passes it into your mouth, the salty crumbs oddly making you crave something even saltier. There’s a sticky sweet sensation traveling through your body as you exchange saliva with him, your brain feels so foggy.

You break away, curling your hands into the collar of Leto’s uniform.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Your voice is small and not completely filled with disgust, you’re honestly too desperate for some form of human contact to make good decisions.

“We’re helping you, honey.” Leto purrs into the seam of your mouth, shaking his head in apparent fondness.

You’re too cute for your own good, at least they don’t have to worry about covering their tracks. Any incubus or succubus would be glad to get a hold of someone as lonely as you, but they wouldn’t love you like you deserve. You haven’t been watched by anyone as long as you’ve been watched by them. He hopes that Paul doesn’t shove his foot in his mouth and let it slip that he wished you gave them the opportunity to take you by force. His son carries a torch for a bit of predator and prey action, he likes playing with his food too much. You’re different from the scrambling mice that get torn to bits, though, you’re forever.

Plus, if you don’t get it now, he has no problems with explaining everything when you’re too weak to get up and try to run away.

Paul buries his face in your neck, spilling the vial of wine he had in his pocket down your shirt. It soaks the tank top underneath and though you try with all your might to wriggle away, the desire to resist gets brushed away under a heavy fog.

It’s nice to be touched, to be wanted after a lifetime of feeling the exact opposite. Perhaps this is why the lord guided you to his grandest home, so you could take his prophets into your body.

The black vanishes from Paul’s eyes and you sink against his chest, making out with his father as your eyes roll back into your head.

No words are uttered verbally as Paul shuffles to the side and pulls you to lie back on the pew’s cushion. Leto deprives you of his tongue and gives you a chance to breathe, which both men do with you in sync, resting their foreheads against you.

The nectar on your tongue tastes divine, little lamb, a voice whispers in your mind.

Let us give you purpose so you no longer need to roam, another begs.

You’re crying from the relief of having your mouth filled, Paul tilts your head up by your chin as he slowly slides his cock into your mouth. The ridges and bumps of what feels like piercings sends a jolt of arousal through you.

“Fuck-” He hisses and rubs your neck, watching you adjust to the stretch. “So warm-”

Leto tuts and clamps his hands around your hips, you’re already too fucked out to register sharp black claws taking care of your clothes. Leaving you bare. A shiver passes through your body as he drags his huge hand down to your pussy, being mindful not to accidentally scratch you. He intends for there to be no blood, this time, not a lot.

You gag on Paul’s length when Leto slams your hips against his pelvis, grinding not one but two large cocks against your cunt. If you were looking at his face, you’d see pitch black eyes and intimidating fangs, but all you can focus on is the hazy candle light and what must be someone playing an organ.

You catch a view of one of the stained class windows, a pair of angels cradling a lamb. It’s the only damaged part of the church, with cracks running along the angel’s wings. You’d think it’s a sneeze away from shattering entirely. Your view of it is blurred by Paul’s quick thrusts, gagging on it again. Drools drip onto the red carpet.

Leto grabs one of Paul’s curled horns and yanks his head to the side, scolding at him to be nicer to you. You’ve clearly never taken three cocks inside you, the one you’re servicing is proving to be overwhelming enough. Again, Paul’s new to this experience as well, just in a different way than you are. In a sense, it’s like he was born yesterday. The older man relays this to you through your choked moans and tears, assuring you that he’s taught Paul how to clean up his messes and be grateful. Something like this will be no different.

“Hush, beloved. I would have gladly speared your mouth but you would be dead before I could cum inside it.”

You see God in the sky when Leto slaps the tapered tip of one of his dicks against your slick entrance, God sees you when he gets the tight walls of ass to wrap around the other. Unbeknownst to you, it’s funny how so many things are, your blood pools around his balls. You’re in pain sure but you’ve never felt as much pleasure as you have in this instance. Both “Priests” smell your blood and well, only your body can tell the rest of the story. Later you’ll wake up to find that the building around you has ruby walls and it seems to be breathing. The shooting pain in your left hand is the result of two iron rings being chiseled into the bone of your ring finger.

The four leathery wings protruding from your back, with spikes poking out from the joints, are waiting to be discovered. As are the nubs sprouting out of your hair.

For now beads of sweat highlight your bouncing tits, Paul gropes one and Leto runs the edge of his claw along the side of the other. They’re hissing words that string together and disappear in the blink of an eye, voices slurred and sticky. Their babbling stops and starts again as you reflexively swallow around Paul’s cock when he skull fucks you without warning. They laugh too, but you can at least pretend that Leto’s tone is kinder.

“Alright, alright. That’s enough teasing.”

“But father-“

“I said no. And don’t think for a second that you’re getting anything else but their mouth.”

“Why the fuck not?”

“You lack self control, it wouldn’t be suitable for conception to occur like this. As delectable as their quivering cunt is, demons shouldn’t abstain from courting.”

“You’re saying that as you’re balls deep inside of them.”

“Don’t start with me, Paul.”

All while you’re making gurgling sounds in between the younger priest’s thighs. You hear growls that sound like a mountain lion’s emitting from both men, and the heavy thumps of something flapping in the air gets you holes clenching around Leto. Both men feverishly scratch up and down your limp body, but you’re so enraptured by the chorus of angels happening outside. You have no sense of time, it’s minutes or it’s hours before their cum spills inside of you. There’s too much to possibly keep it all inside, a good amount of it leaks from your cunt and your throat. Leto feels like Christ incarnate when you squirt all over him and yourself with the dumbest expression on your face. Multicolored pieces of glass fall down around you with the loud chime of an invisible bell.

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steddieas-shegoes · 1 day

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i wanna be your sin

for @subeddieweek day five with the prompts rimming and possessive steve

rated e | 2,473 words | please check ao3 for tags

Day one: ao3 | tumblr Day two: ao3 | tumblr Day three: ao3 | tumblr Day four: ao3 | tumblr

⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕⭕

If being friends with Steve was easy, being loved by him was a piece of cake.

It would probably scare someone else, the way Steve loved. He gave everything, more than what Eddie felt he deserved. It was overwhelming at times, to be the focal point of all of Steve’s affection.

He showed up at Eddie’s house with flowers before their first date. And their second. And for their third, he brought him homemade cookies.

Fucking homemade cookies.

And every single time, he acted like it brightened his day to be able to provide these things to Eddie. Like if he couldn’t bring him flowers or cookies or kiss him or hold him, he’d crumble into a million pieces and cease to exist.

It was easy to love him back, too.

To play with his fingers in the car and lean his head on his shoulder, to get lost in the time they spent together until Wayne was opening the door to the trailer with his knowing smile and wave as Steve just waved back from his spot on the couch holding Eddie’s hand.

They weren’t stupid, though.

Their dates were usually places where two young guys could be caught hanging out without drawing suspicion, even if those two guys happened to be Eddie and Steve. If it wasn’t the diner or the bowling alley, or even the record store Steve had taken him to on their first date, they were in secret hiding spots around Hawkins, spending every moment they could giving in to temptation.

But sometimes they ventured outside their comfort zone.

Steve was Dustin’s chauffeur from Hellfire Club since his mom’s promotion that led her to working much later during the week.

They hadn’t exactly told anyone about what they were to each other, had barely even mentioned they were friends to anyone other than Robin, but Steve was insistent that no one would think anything if he just…hung out during Hellfire.

Eddie didn’t really have the heart to tell him that every single person in the room would be highly suspicious of anyone being allowed to stay and watch as Eddie had always been incredibly protective of their space and never let anyone watch who wasn’t inducted into Hellfire.

Steve sat in the corner of the room, only receiving a few concerned looks from the group at first. Most of the confusion was directed at Eddie.

When they took their usual five minute bathroom break, Gareth pulled him aside and questioned him.

“Dude. The hell.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “What?”

“Harrington? I know he’s Dustin’s second mom or whatever, but is it really necessary for him to be here? Doesn’t he have a job or something?” Gareth glanced over at Steve, who was looking back at both of them with a fire in his eyes.

Eddie ignored the way that look made him feel and crossed his arms over his chest, raising a brow at Gareth.

“Isn’t the point of Hellfire to welcome the lost sheep? No judgment?”

“Yeah, but-”

“And wouldn’t you think it rude to assume Steve doesn’t deserve to have some friends?”

“But he-”

“Everything okay over here?” Steve’s voice was right next to Eddie’s ear, and his hand was on his hip, squeezing.

Eddie’s mouth snapped closed, eyes widening as he watched Gareth’s gaze drop to where Steve was touching him and back up to Eddie’s face.

“Yeah, man. Just checking in on our friend, here,” Gareth gave Steve a fake smile before turning and walking away.

Steve’s hand didn’t drop and Eddie was certain that if he didn’t move in the next 10 seconds, they’d have a lot of explaining to do that Steve probably wasn’t ready for.

“Was he bothering you?” Steve asked, his face a mask of friendliness.

“Gareth? My best friend for three years? He always bothers me, but it’s nothing like that.” Eddie tapped Steve’s hand as a reminder that he should probably move it, but he just tightened his grip. “Um, you okay?”

Steve’s breath was warm against his jaw as he leaned in close to whisper in Eddie’s ear. “I’m great, sweet boy.”

The reaction was instant. And really fucking inconvenient.

Hearing those words from Steve now, when he still had an hour of a campaign to run, with children making their way back to the table, was enough to make him call it all off.

Fuck Hellfire. He needed Steve to fuck him.

Steve patted his ass twice before walking away, smiling to himself as he went back to his seat to watch Eddie deal with this sudden need to have Steve.

And then he just…carried on. Like it was nothing to have Steve’s hand on him one minute, his voice against his ear, and then go back to being the big, bad DM the next. He was a pretty good actor, but even he had his limits when Steve’s eyes were on him.

Even he could tell he was a little off after the break, and the knowing looks from Gareth and confused looks from the rest of them just emphasized how much he needed to get his shit together. This was his best campaign ever, and he knew he needed to roll into Christmas break with a cliffhanger that made everyone desperate to get back.

Steve watched the clock, then looked at Eddie, watching him fondly, but with a certain hunger in his eyes that was nowhere near appropriate for others to see.

“And as you crawl your way under the fence, mud and sweat coating your skin, you see a faint light coming towards you from a distance. Your entire group freezes and waits to see if you’ve been found. You breathe slowly, just enough to not pass out. The light gets closer.” Eddie stands from his chair, leaning over the table to blow out the candle. “The candle goes out. A voice yells down to you. ‘Come at once or die.’”

Eddie sits back in his chair and folds his hand across his stomach, waiting for the table to catch up that he was done.

“That can’t be it!” Lucas yelled.

“Eddie, you said you weren’t gonna end it on a cliffhanger!” Mike pouted.

“I never said such a thing and if I ever did, you should’ve known I was lying.” Eddie stood again, folding his DM notes up and picking up his personal minifigures to store in his bag. “We’ll pick up the first week back in the new year. Everyone go home and enjoy Christmas because there’s a chance some of you may perish on your journey here.”

Everyone grumbled except for Gareth, who was oddly quiet as they all cleaned up their own character sheets and minifigures. He kept glancing between Steve and Eddie, brows furrowed, like if he concentrated hard enough, something would make more sense to him.

Steve stood as the older kids filed out, driving themselves home or hitching rides with each other. Nancy was already outside waiting for Mike and Lucas, so they rushed out of the room, barely saying goodbye.

Dustin didn’t seem to notice or care that Steve and Eddie were staring at each other, that Eddie’s hands were practically shaking with anticipation for what was coming. Hopefully, he would be.

“Oh, mom told me to tell you that she made extra of that casserole you like so you can bring some back home with you when you drop me off,” he said as he finished packing up his bag.

“Sounds good, dude,” Steve said, not taking his eyes from Eddie.

Eddie could feel his face flushing, wondered how he could get Steve out of there before he did something stupid like kiss him in front of their shared child.

“You guys gonna kill each other or make out?” Dustin asked, not really looking at either of them, standing by the door to leave. “If you’re done, I have a curfew to make whether my mom’s home or not.”

Steve tossed Dustin his keys. “Wait for me. I’ll just be a minute. And I’ll know if you try to start her. Passenger seat only.”

Dustin knew better than to argue when it came to Steve’s car, so he nodded once and booked it from the room.

The moment they heard the main door to the auditorium slam shut, Steve was on him, pushing him back in his seat and looming over him with a deadly smile.

Eddie’s cock was straining against his jeans, rubbing against the zipper in a way that felt too good for him to be in public, especially when he knew Steve wasn’t gonna do anything about it.

“Unbutton your pants.”

Steve’s tone was cool, but Eddie knew him well enough to hear how much he was struggling to maintain composure.

What had he done to make Steve want him like this? Now?

“Here?” Eddie asked, looking around the room.

Steve’s hand cupped his jaw and turned it back to face him.

“Here.”

Eddie knew when to be a brat and now was not it.

He unbuttoned his pants with shaking hands, letting his cock feel a single moment of relief before Steve’s grip around it was rough, nearly too hard to feel good.

“Pull them down.”

“Steve-”

“Now. Unless you wanna stop. You know what to say if you do.”

Obviously, Eddie wasn’t going to stop. He trusted Steve, he trusted that Steve would never put him in any danger, and if Steve felt safe enough to do this here and now, then Eddie could let him have what he needed.

Eddie tugged his pants and boxers down to his thighs. He ignored the twinge in his back at the uncomfortable angle, focusing on Steve’s eyes on him, his teeth digging into his bottom lip as he watched Eddie fumble.

“Turn around. On your knees.”

Eddie turned around, got on his knees.

“Lean forward.”

Eddie leaned forward.

Steve dropped to his knees and gripped Eddie’s hips. His nose brushed against the tail of his spine, breath leaving pinpricks of moisture behind. Or was that sweat? Had it gotten hotter in here?

“What if Dustin comes back in?”

“He won’t. He never has free access to my car.” Steve’s lips brushed against his skin, and Eddie realized just before it happened what Steve’s plan was.

Steve’s tongue trailed down the crack of his ass, hot and wet, spit mixing with the beginnings of sweat from his two hours of excitement. He’d showered that morning, but that morning was a long time ago.

He tried not to tense his body or pull away, but Steve noticed everything.

“Eds, color.” Steve was giving him enough space to think, to concentrate on an answer. They weren’t really playing in that space, but it was an easy way for Eddie to figure out if he actually wanted to keep going regardless of them taking on their roles or him floating into space.

“Um. Yellow,” he admitted quietly. He so rarely said anything besides green, and usually only when he was incredibly overwhelmed, so Steve immediately stood up and walked in front of him.

“What’s got you worried, love?” Steve cupped his face in his hands, making him forget momentarily that his bare ass was out for anyone to walk in and see.

“I’m not really clean? And, um, I don’t really know if I can get off with just that in only a few minutes,” Eddie didn’t break eye contact. He knew Steve liked when he looked at him while he talked through this stuff. It made him proud.

“Oh, sweet boy. I don’t need you to smell like roses to wanna get my mouth all over you,” Steve kissed his forehead. “But if it makes you uncomfortable, we can continue it later once you’ve showered. Or not at all. But I will say I had no intention of getting you off here.”

“But. You were gonna eat me out?”

“Yeah for a couple minutes. Get you worked up. Remind you that you belong to me, that you’re mine no matter who else gets to share your time.”

Steve was going to torture him, then. Why was that making him sweat more?

“You’re mine, baby. I get to make you feel good because it’s my job to take care of you.”

“Green.”

“Relax, sweet boy. I’ve got you.”

Eddie knew he did, so he let his forehead fall, resting against his arms folded over the back of his fake throne. There was something to be said about being worshiped here, something about being on his knees while holding all the power, but he was already too distracted by Steve’s hands pulling his cheeks apart to lick at his entrance to care.

Steve was good with his mouth and it was all too easy to get lost in the feeling of his tongue circling him, pushing past his rim every few swipes and making him rush to stifle a moan.

Just when Eddie started to feel like he needed a hand on him, Steve’s tongue disappeared.

Eddie shivered.

Steve’s hand ran up and down his back, but no other touch came, no words of comfort.

Eddie could hear rolling thunder in the distance and remembered Wayne saying something about getting home before it was supposed to storm tonight.

Might be too late for that now.

He could blame Steve.

Steve pulled his hand away and tugged his pants up for him, nearly knocking him over in his haste to get them in place and buttoned.

“Be good for me, sweet boy. I want you to finish up here and get home before it starts raining. I’ll be there when I drop Dustin off to take care of you,” Steve kissed his temple and started walking away.

“Wait!” Eddie got off the chair and rushed over to Steve, doing his best to ignore the wet, slippery feeling that Steve left behind. “Wayne’s gonna be home by midnight. You won’t be long?”

Steve shook his head, coming back to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Just gotta run in and make sure he heats up his dinner or he’ll forget. I’ll head straight over after that. Promise.”

Eddie nodded and watched as Steve walked out the door.

Thunder rolled again, still far enough away for him to be able to get to his van and get home.

He rushed through shutting off the lights, only leaving the security light on for the janitor when they got there first thing in the morning, throwing his bag over his shoulder and running to his van.

It was dark, but Eddie could still see the heavy clouds rolling in.

He unlocked his van, hopped into the driver’s seat, and turned the key.

Nothing.

He tried again.

Nothing.

Raindrops fell on the windshield and Eddie felt like crying.

Day six: ao3 | tumblr

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #sub eddie week #sub eddie munson #dom steve harrington #possessive steve harrington

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queer-overwatch · 3 days

Note

heyy <3 i was wondering if you could do HC's of either Venture or Sojourn with a GN s/o who has a lot of medical scarring all over their body? (basically comforting them 'bout them) :)

thank youuuuuu

I totally yoinked this one bc I HAVE SCARS AND I FEEL BAD ABT THEM SOMETIMES TOO!!! Which is completely stupid bc scars are so cool in my opinion- anyway! Here's some headcanons for ya anon! <3 -Frisk

Venture and Sojourn comforting reader with scars!

⸙❯────「♅」────❮⸙

Sojourn!

Out of everyone she understands your experiences the most

Whenever you're feeling bad about your scarring, she thinks of what she'd want to hear and would use that to comfort you

She can't really get scars anymore, at least not in the most common areas, but she'll try and paint a few onto her legs and arms to match you!

if you want to share stories about how you got them, she's more than happy to listen

If you're okay with it, whenever you two are cuddling or are just close to each other she'll trace over them with her hands

Finds them fascinating in a bit of a morbid way, though she 100% keeps those thoughts to herself

Will be the most casual person ever about it, to her it isn't a big deal. If it doesn't matter to you, then she couldn't care less

She loves you, and that includes your body

Venture!

══════ஜ▲ஜ══════

Scars? Huh? What-?

They would literally never notice if you hadn't told them-

way too busy staring into your eyes lovingly like a huge dork 24/7 for it to register in their head

They have probably noticed but forgot 2 seconds later

They are way more open about how cool they think scarring is! If you're okay with them complimenting or asking about your scars, oh boy you better expect to be thrown into a story time

They have some too! Like their tooth! And they have a bunch on their hands thanks to their drill

They never had any negative connections to scars so they're plenty open to conversations about 'em!

Would probably absentmindedly talk about their own since in the back of their head its like "Oh my god my partner had scarring too! That's so awesome! Story time!"

If you're insecure about your scars then they become the biggest sweetheart ever

If you don't like talking about them then that's fine! All you gotta do is ask and bam, its gone from their brain in 2-3 business days

If you ever come to them and talk about how you don't like your scars, after asking for permission of course, they will kiss the ever loving hell out of every single little mark on your body (if you let them, of course)

also absolutely adores your body, no matter what you think's "wrong" with it

#sojourn overwatch #overwatch x reader #venture #sojourn #overwatch venture #venture x reader #sojourn x reader #sloane cameron #vivian chase #Xornk

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gothcoffins · 1 day

Text

I don't think I made enough of a point of how problematic it is to only like skinny people to the point of only dating, respecting, and rebloging them. I got mad and kept it mostly focused on the white aspect in my previous posts. (As in, only liking WHITE thin people and only rb white skinny femmes is weird as hell) Very sorry about that! I just felt the racism issue needed to be addressed first and then I missed the opportunity to also talk about body size as well because sometimes this goes hand in hand, let's be real.

If you only like butches and femmes when they are thin, especially only if they are thin and white, then maybe you don't like them.

Why do larger bodies make you uncomfortable? No matter if you have a tummy or not, if your thighs touch, your belly is large and prominent, or if you have rolls when standing, sitting, or existing, maybe you even have everything I listed at once but it's all beautiful and wonderful and natural. Someone's body shouldn't stop you from loving them. Someone's size shouldn't make you lose interest in them, that is just pathetic. Your love and respect for butches and femmes shouldn't depend on if they are thin or not.

ESPECIALLY for femmes, this is an issue I am seeing when trying to interact with some of the butches here. You either like us all, or you don't like any of us. You can't only like and respect people when they are thin (and white).

We all come in many different shapes and sizes, if you can only be attracted to those who are thin then you need to unpack that. Why do bodies that are not thin repulse you so much? (fatphobia is real please work on yourselves) Just because someone is fat it doesn't mean they are any less of a person. I am just as deserving of love and respect as my thinner femme sisters/siblings.

Personally as a femme, I love me some butch/stud tummy. Give me a butch with a big tummy, big arms, big legs and thighs, and I'm gonna be the happiest girl in the world. Big thighs so I can sit comfortably in their lap, big arms so I can hold onto them when we are walking together, a soft tummy that moves when they laugh and when they fuck into me. Like!!! Fat butches and fat studs, skinny, mid size, and any studs and any butches anywhere in between, you are wonderful! If you have stretch marks, scars, visible double chins, disabilities, acne, you are wonderful! regardless of your race or gender identity you are all wonderful and handsome and strong! thank you for existing. the lesbian community, especially within butch/femme dynamics is incredibly lucky to have you in it. You make me feel so safe and loved. Thank you

Femmes, femmes who are fat, femmes who have stretch marks, femmes who have big bellies, arms, and thighs. Femmes who have visible double chins, femmes who have big cheeks and fingers!! You are gorgeous to me. Femmes with stretch marks, acne, scars, disabilities, femmes who are fat, thin, mid size, or anywhere in between, regardless of your gender or race, you are all beautiful and wonderful and lesbian. There is no size requirement to be femme, it's a mindset. Thank you femmes for making the lesbian community so wonderful, especially within the butch/femme community. I love and appreciate you all 🩷

It's okay to have preferences, but it becomes an issue when your preferences are causing harm and stem from racism or fatphobia or anything else. When you are only respecting those you find attractive, when you are only holding space in your heart for those with smaller bodies, when you only value the opinions of those whose skin is pale, you are way less likely to be a safe space for others. You are less likely to care about the others in your community, less likely to treat those in larger bodies with respect and dignity. Society already treats fat people as something disgusting and something to be laughed at and looked down upon, and we don't need this in the lesbian community when this is supposed to be a space for us to exist freely in. The lesbian community is already pretty small, we don't need to bring even more hardship onto those in our community, those who are different than us deserve love and care too. We need to uplift and support each other, we are all we have at the end of the day. Let's make our space a place we can all sit comfortably in, regardless of how we physically look 🦇🖤

#femme4butch #femme4stud #butch #stud #femme #lesbian #butchfemme #femme lesbian

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daytaker · 21 hours

Text

Tea Time

In which MC and Satan accidentally travel to a pocket dimension simulacrum of the underground labyrinth in the demon lord's castle.

Ship: None (MC & Satan, not MC/Satan) Word Count: 2.6k CW: Choking Set in the Nightbringer timeline.

You can find it on AO3 by clicking here.

(Author's note: Just as a heads-up, this is a very "early on in the game" version of Satan. He is mean. He is violent. He is mean and violent towards MC. I keep the tone light but I figured I should be a bit explicit about what you'll find below the cut.)

Record scratch. Freeze frame. Perfect.

So...yep. That’s me. I’m the one on the left, running for my life through a torch-lit labyrinthine corridor, being chased by a three-headed devil dog. Now, it might be a cliche, but we’ve already done the record scratch bit, so I might as well go all out:

You’re probably wondering how I found myself in this situation.

Well! Let me direct your attention to the other individual onscreen. On the right, has black horns, a fur mantle, and murderous intent written all over his face. This charming person is Satan. Yes, that Satan. But also, no, not really that Satan. For this story to make any sense, you’ll have to take my word for it that Satan is, in fact, a skinny blonde kid who looks like he's in his early twenties.

Suspend your disbelief for me, please.

So what happened was this...

I spilled some tea on a book lying haphazardly on the floor of Satan’s room. It was an accident, of course, but try telling him that. I was bringing him tea in bed because he was griping in the group chat about his headache and I’m a very considerate attendant and friend, when suddenly the whole room shook.

Now, I never did figure out why that happened. Maybe Cerberus was acting up. Maybe someone ate Beel’s custard again. Maybe there was an earthquake! I don’t know if Hell has those, but it might be a possibility. The point is, the room shook, and I shook, and the teacup shook, and the tea inside the teacup shook, and it all poured out onto a book on the floor. I hardly noticed it, since the only drops that didn’t land on the book had scalded my hands, meaning I was a bit distracted, but Satan sure did. I don’t know if that headache of his had been exaggerated or if he was so angry that he didn’t care about the pain, but before I even found a place to put down the teacup and tend to my burns, he was out of bed and in my face.

It was scary. I’ll admit it. Satan scared me. Back in my own time, I’d always had the hardest time feeling like I was “getting to” him out of all the brothers. Even Lucifer had clear enough motives and something resembling a moral code that I felt like I could follow. But Satan was different. Always different. He put me on edge with his cynicism and short temper, and he carried himself with a haughtiness that devolved into irritation whenever he felt someone was doing something stupid.

Still, we’d gotten to a point where things were at least friendly between us, and I sometimes got the feeling that he was trying to play-act the sort of easy friendship I’d formed with Mammon and Levi and the rest. But it never felt…authentic. I appreciated the gestures–book recommendations, shopping trips, things like that. But he was never really comfortable, so I was never really comfortable. I guess, more than anything, I felt sorry for him.

…It makes me feel like an asshole to admit that to myself.

That’s Satan from my time, though. This Satan… Where do I even begin? Trying to explain would be tedious, so I’ll just continue with the story and let you figure it out yourself. To recap, this was the situation: I’d spilled tea on his book, but the expression on his face made me feel like I’d been caught killing a kitten. Horror. Disgust. Disbelief. But most of all, rage.

His hands were on my throat before I could get a word out. So we’re back to where I was before this little tangent, when I said: Satan scared me. I was scared. Part of me knew that this wasn’t actually going to be how I died. I’ve been assaulted and almost killed by demons too many times to count. Maybe I should have been used to it by now. But the panic that set in when I couldn’t get air to my lungs, and when I looked into his green eyes, clouded over with fury, and when I felt his hot breath on my face, like I was staring down a raging bull–

You don’t get used to that.

My eyes were watering and my chest was burning and I was clawing at his hands, and as darkness swept over us, I thought that maybe I really was going to die like this.

But then, the hands were gone, and I fell onto my knees, sputtering and wheezing as my pulse thundered in my ears. It was only after a few seconds of steady breathing that I realized my hands were touching a cold stone floor. Wiping my eyes, I looked up. I was in a dark hallway lit with only torches, with divergent pathways splitting off in a variety of directions. It was musty, and damp, and my skin felt clammy, but there wasn’t anything new about this place. Not for me, at least.

“What happened?” Satan’s alarm seemed to have overridden his anger for now. He looked up and down the hallway, peeking down a few of the off-branches, before turning to me again. “What did you do?”

I made a weak attempt at answering, but the instant I inhaled to speak, my throat stopped working, and I burst into a frenzy of dry coughs, gripping my burning chest and neck.

Satan tsked and turned away from me uncomfortably, looking the hallway up and down again. Something seemed to catch his eye at the same time that I caught my breath.

“I don’t… know what happened, but…” I wheezed, and Satan cast me a sharp glare over his shoulder. “I know where we are. This… is the labyrinth… under the Demon Lord’s castle.”

There followed a fresh fit of coughing, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t playing it up somewhat at this point. I wanted him to feel bad. I wanted to see some flicker of guilt on his face. The Satan that I knew was at least capable of that.

“Would you stop that?” was all this one said to me. “I have a headache. And I know where we are. I lived here for a year, or did you forget?” He reached down and picked something up from the shadows by the wall. It was the tea-stained book. He turned and held it out for me to see, silently gloating in this evidence that, whatever had happened, the tea fiasco was related, so this whole thing was really my fault.

Satisfied by my silence, he approached the nearest torch and held the book up to the light. "Mysteries of the Demon King's Castle," he read off the cover. "Now equipped with easy-to-use pocket dimensions, giving you a fully immersive experience– dammit !”

He stopped reading and hurled the book down the hallway, out of sight.

“...I didn’t realize pocket dimensions were unlocked with tea,” I muttered sullenly. “Why did you leave a book with transdimensional charms on it lying on the floor?”

I thought it was a sober, reasonable question, but based on what I could see of Satan’s face, he disagreed. As he turned on me, he suddenly seemed taller than I remembered, so much so that he blocked out the torchlight. “Are you saying this is my fault?”

I couldn’t see what kind of face he was making in the dark, and I was glad about that as I backpedaled somewhat. “I’m… I’m just saying there’s fault to go ‘round!”

That didn’t seem to do much to quell his mounting annoyance. I wasn’t entirely sure what he was angry about at this point. The spilled tea? The wet book? The pocket dimension? The suggestion that he might be partially responsible for our current predicament? All I knew was that there was a dark energy stirring around him. It wasn’t out of control yet, but I took note and stepped back.

“...This is stupid,” he finally mumbled. That illusion that he was taller than before had ended, and he was the same stature as always as he walked in the direction he’d tossed the book. “I’ll get us out.”

I stayed where I was, rubbing my sore neck, and stared into the darkness after him. The sound of footsteps slowed. Everything was silent.

Then the sound of footsteps picked up again. Rapidly. Satan was running back in my direction, and chasing him was–

“Cerberus?!” I was running before I had time to think I should be running. “What’s he doing here?!”

“Shut up!” Satan said rather unhelpfully. Then he made a sudden turn, and I nearly tripped over my feet skidding to a stop and running after him. I made a grab for his hand, just to have something to keep us from being separated in the dark, but he hissed like the touch burned him and pulled it free again.

Now, I was starting to feel pretty angry too.

“Why are we running?” I snapped between pants. “Isn’t that your dog?”

“Lucifer’s,” was his terse reply. “Stop following me. If we split up, at least one of us will live.”

“Are you being serious?” I struggled to keep up my pace while giving him a look of appropriately scathing incredulity.

Satan didn’t appreciate my expression, because he refused to look at me. He kept running, eyes trained forward, gritting his teeth. “I don’t know! I need a minute to think! So shut up!”

Fed up with him, I picked up my pace with the last of my flagging strength and shoved him bodily into a crevice. He was so shocked that for a few seconds, while he was reattaching his jaw to his skull, I was able to take his own advice and assess the situation clearly. No running like a lunatic. No accusatory jabs. Just me and my thoughts… And that was all I needed.

It was incredibly simple. Cerberus was here because Cerberus wasn't really here. This pocket dimension was designed for the book it came with, so it goes to figure that the creatures living in it were little more than illusions.

“How dare you–?”

Satan had recovered his senses and looked ready to lunge at me, so I sidestepped out of the crevice and into the path of the other beast.

“Wind and fire, heed your master’s call!” I shouted. The wind began to whip fiercely around me as the torches blazed. I never got tired of this. It was badass every time. But I didn’t have time to appreciate the theatrics. Cerberus had just rounded a corner and was loping towards me, all three jaws snapping. “Vile illusion! I cast you back into the darkness!”

The wind blew so violently that I could barely keep my balance, and from the sound of a thud and a hissed “damn!” behind me, it seemed like the wind was even less considerate of Satan. But in front of me, the gale seemed to blow the image of Cerberus away. The wind rushed, the torchlight blazed, and in seconds, the creature had vanished completely.

The air settled down and the torches dimmed to their usual brightness. In the absence of the howling wind, every sound was intensified. My heavy breathing. Satan’s heavy breathing. His voice behind me when he rasped, “What…?”

“It wasn’t real,” I answered breathlessly. “Just… an illusion.”

“What…did you do?”

I turned around to face him, only to find him on his knees, fists clenched on his thighs. I wilted somewhat. I hadn’t meant to draw power from him, but he was right there, and the illusion had been so intense…!

“I…guess I had to borrow some of your power to banish the illusion. It- It wasn’t intentional…” I started to stammer out the best excuse I could pull from my ass, but then he looked up at me. His eyes flashed dangerously, his teeth were bared, and the sound he made was more like a snarl than a voice.

“This is my body! You can’t use it! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t! I’ll kill you!”

As enraged as he was, he was too weak to do much about the situation. I mumbled an apology, taking a step back. Satan kept muttering curses under his breath, head bowed, and before long, I’d pushed his words out of my mind. It wasn’t like this was the first time one of the brothers threatened to kill me, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Fatigued from my own burst of mana output, I shut my eyes, slid down the wall, and sat on the floor, running a hand through my hair as I exhaled. We would be fine now, I reassured myself. Satan would blow off his anger, and we’d figure out some way out of here. Leaving a pocket dimension should be relatively simple. Even if that failed, at the very least, Lucifer or Solomon would figure out how to rescue us. Right… All we had to do was…

......

I didn’t remember falling asleep, but then again, who does? When I woke up a short time later, stiff and sore against the stone wall, I was alone in the hallway.

“Satan?”

My voice echoed in the stone passage, and I reflexively shuddered. How many creepy things have chased me down these halls? Sure, this one wasn’t the real thing, but… what else besides Cerberus might be waiting in the wings?

It took some courage for me to shout louder. “Satan!”

Nothing.

I groaned. Loudly, too, just in case he could hear it. That bastard. My head reeled as I forced myself back to my feet. There was no way he would have just walked off into this maze without me, was there?

…Was there?

A nervous knot was growing in my stomach. “Satan, if you can hear me, you’d better say something!”

“Something.”

The voice came from directly behind me, and I shrieked. It was an ugly shriek, and it was loud, and when I turned around indignantly, I saw Satan. That asshole. He stood watching me with an irritating expression of self-satisfaction, and in his hand, he held the damn book that started all of this in the first place.

“So you’ve decided not to kill me?”

It was a stupid thing to say, and I knew it wouldn’t do anything besides annoy him, but I was embarrassed and I wanted to wipe the smug smirk off his stupid face.

It worked.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking such irritating questions?” he snapped. “I was going to tell you I’ve found a simple way to get out of this nightmare.” He started thumbing through the pages, which smelled strongly of green tea.

One haphazardly sketched pentagram later, we were both standing in Satan’s room. A quick glance at my D.D.D. confirmed no time had passed during our little excursion to the illusory labyrinth. Thoroughly drained, I sighed and plopped down onto the floor with a bump. Three precariously stacked books proceeded to fall and hit me on the head, one after the other, like this was some sort of Looney Tunes skit.

“Careful!” chided Satan, steadying the stack. “You’ll start an avalanche, and I don’t have the patience to deal with that today! I have a headache.”

As I stood up, he flopped down on his bed, his back facing me. I stared at him for a few long seconds, then sighed. I could no longer repress a smirk.

“Want me to get you some tea?”

This was something I wrote while I was developing Let's All Be Shadows. It's a little sillier tonally. While I'm finishing Chapter 19, I figured I'd post this here, since I realized I hadn't done that yet.

#daytaker fanfic #obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me fic #obey me satan #obey me satan fic #obey me mc #satan #fanfic

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isaacswhy · 3 days

Text

hair

yumi x afab!reader (nsfw) summary: yumi tells you he needs a haircut, and you convince him it's a bad idea. requested?: by poll tags: oral (afab!receiving), hair pulling, somewhat sub yumi, no gendered terms or pronouns just anatomically afab MINORS DNI

"I need a haircut."

Those were your least favorite words you had to hear from your boyfriend, Blake. Even as you'd been conditioning him to get his hair cut a reasonable length and not to look like a toddler, it was hard. Every single stylist you brought him to would fuck him up.

Seated on his bed, you looked up at him from your phone and glared at him, to the best of your ability. "The hell you do."

"I do! Don't you see the fuckin' mop on my head?" Blake made a dramatic motion to his hair.

You frowned. You'd been learning how to cut hair in secret for the last few months, and you weren't quite ready to put your skills to the test. Most of your work had been on Isaac, who was willing enough to let you practice on him. Not like he was appearing much in videos anyways.

"Yeah, but it's my mop. It looks so pretty when it grows out, you can actually see the little waves in your hair," You said, making a little wavy motion with your hand.

Blake let out a dramatic sigh. "We can find a new person to cut my hair, a real professional, but please. I need to be able to see my screen one of these days."

You cocked a brow at him. "Then put it up or something. You know I think it looks sexy pushed back."

"It looks fuckin' stupid pushed back, and you know it."

"Not when I push it back."

Blake's head whipped over to you, as he had turned somewhat back to his computer. His cheeks flushed a little bit and he let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, well, that's a different, uh, thing."

"What? You know I like to put my hands through it and everything. Like when you're in my lap or-" You paused for a moment and let out a loud laugh, "Holy shit, Blake, that was not what I meant."

Blake put his head in his hands for a moment, letting out a long sigh. "Well.."

You began cracking up into a small fit of laughter. "Holy shit, you are so sex-brained it's crazy. You horny bitch, you like it when I pull your hair like that?"

Blake's face was completely covered by his hands, but you could see the redness in his ears. "Fuck off."

You stood up from his bed, leaving your phone on his comforter. Walking over to Blake, his face was still buried in his hands as you ran a hand through his soft, brown hair. He leaned into your touch on impulse and you smiled, opting not to make a comment about it.

"I know you like giving head, baby," You said in a softer voice, "There's no reason to be ashamed of it."

"I know," Blake whined as he pulled his head from his hands and looked at the ground, "It's just not super normal. Every guy I grew up around only ever talked about just dicking their partners down."

You nodded as your fingers worked through different strands of his hair. "But it's okay to not just want that. To like doing other things, too. You know that, right?"

Blake looked up at you. "Yeah, I know that, too. It's just- I think about it a lot. Drives me crazy sometimes."

You laughed softly as your eyes met his. "You are the horniest man on planet Earth, I think. But.. I don't mind, if I'm getting head all the time."

"That you are," Blake grinned as he slowly stood up, you taking a step back to give him room to stand.

You took his hand and pulled him over to the bed, and he followed along eagerly. You stopped him near the edge of the bed, putting a hand in his hair and pushing him down to his knees. He leaned forward, pressing soft kisses to your clothed thighs, eyes closed.

His hands trailed up the back of your thighs, groping at your ass briefly before his fingers looked to hook under the band of your sweatpants you had taken from his wardrobe. He successfully was able to, slowly pulling them down until they hit the floor, him now pressing his kisses to the skin of your thighs.

He was a little hastier to get to the hem of your underwear, pulling it off the same as he did with your sweats. His kisses trailed up, making you hold your breath as he got closer to where you wanted him to be. He teased just a little, kissing over the folds.

Before you could say anything, he stopped you just as you opened your mouth by dragging a tongue between them. The first bit of stimulation shut you down almost immediately, your right hand grasping into his soft hair. You heard him let out a small sound as his tongue dragged along your clit, making a slow circle that had your breathing turning shaky.

You stopped him for a moment, using your hand to pull him away, before sitting down on the edge of the bed. Your legs spread apart, because you knew he could work well with better access. He was eager to continue, your hand guiding him back.

He took a few long licks, his tongue pressed flat, before he began what he was best at. His tongue circling your clit, his lips sucking softly to create a mind-numbing feeling of suction. Your head rolled back on your shoulders, letting out soft moans as your grip in his hair tightened.

His hand slid down your inner thigh, kneading at it briefly before coming closer to his mouth. One of his fingers dragged closer, finally teasing at your entrance. You could feel just how slick and hot you were, and it was bad. With Blake between your legs, how couldn't you be?

As soon as it slid inside, you let out a whine, feeling him push in and slowly begin to stretch you out. His fingers were thick enough to have one making you squirm, panting softly as his mouth continued to drive you crazy. The finger worked slowly but thoroughly, pushing in deep and curling to hit the sweet spot.

As soon as he pushed a second finger in without warning, you doubled over and keened. You'd turned into a mess, moaning and softly repeating his name under your breath. Blake seemed fine, totally under control as he licked and sucked at your sensitive points, his fingers driving in deeper. He looked almost entranced, his eyes closed but his mouth and fingers working rhythmically.

Your grip was slowly starting to tighten further into his hair, the feeling of pleasure only intensifying. Every second, it was getting more and more overwhelming and it signaled your orgasm was quickly approaching.

"Blake, baby," You said through shaky breaths, "Getting.. close."

He looked up at you with a devilish grin, and you felt your stomach fill with butterflies. You could only hold his gaze as his fingers pushed in faster and deeper, his mouth and tongue working overtime. The release came at you full-speed like a train, feeling like a coil snapped inside your guts. All of the sudden, you were moaning out like a whore and pulling Blake's hair hard.

As the waves of pleasure cascaded through you, clenching around his fingers, he slowed down and pulled his mouth from your sensitive, twitching clit. He gave you a soft smile, kissing you briefly. "Was that good?"

"Was that-" You scoffed and looked at him like he was insane, "Are you kidding me? That was amazing."

Blake grinned, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean. "Tastes so good."

"God, you're so.." You trailed off with a groan. He drove you insane, always so positive and goofy but looking to please at any given minute. It was like the universe had made him for you.

"So what?"

"So perfect," You sighed, "So, are you going to cut your hair now?"

Blake took a second to think before shaking his head. "No, I think I'll survive a few more weeks."

"That's right," You smiled and ruffled his hair with your hand, "Don't take this beautiful mop away from me just yet."

#yumi #yumimain #yumi x reader #tgc #the group #the group chat #tgc x reader #the group x reader #isaacwhy #bigt #softwilly

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