#and Demon is endlessly tickled by this

[obeythebutler]

Could I request some kind of cooking date with Mammon? Location, cuisine, and outcome of the cooking is up to you. :)

-qrowsofafeather

One thing about Mammon is that he is scarily good at using knives.

Eons of experience as a Throne and having the physical prowess of a demon mean that he's the fastest, adept at fighting, all quick reflexes and agility. It means that he can handle a knife as if its second skin, whether to harm or defend.

Or even cut vegetables, in this scenario.

Three seconds in and when you took a glance at him the onion has already been peeled and cut finely into cubes, perfectly-sized. And his smug face when you checked up on him, winking at you with flour on his cheek.

Quite effective, but hey, what's the fun in cooking if you can't enjoy the process?

Especially with your loved ones.

"Slow down babe," You say, draining the half-cooked rice before filling it with water again. "You could hurt yourself." You know he could chop them blind and never get hurt. Still, you can't help but caution him.

"And you're the one getting papercuts every week."

"Shush."

You place the pot back on the stove, and turn your attention towards the oil that must be hot by now in the pot. It smokes, and you add in the fenugreek and cumin seeds, watch them splutter about and crackle.

You don't even get the chance to ask before the small container of asafoetida is handed to you. You look at your boyfriend, dumbfounded, before putting some in the pot.

Barbatos had a favour due for you, and so you and Mammon had visited the human world, to procure ingredients that you would not find in the Devildom, and if you did, the substitutes of it would make you laugh endlessly, burn your oesophagus from the inside-out. Like those Acidic Hell Fries.

Whoops, got a bit too graphic there.

Your tolerance grew though, with your tastebuds adjusting to the Devildom.

Mammon follows after, adding the chopped onions, garlic, green chillies and ginger in the pot. He gives it a stir, chewing all the while on the chilli.

Always a fan of spicy foodstuffs.

You watch the demon stir the contents of the pot around, content and concentrated. The brothers are out today due to some student council work, which you and Mammon decided to not attend.

Lucifer is going to hang you both upside-down later.

Nevermind that though.

His brows unconsciously furrow when he's engrossed in his work; in the zone as humans would call it. And with the sparse free moments you have, you decide to aim and deliver a fatal blow.

The squeak that leaves from Mammon's mouth reminds you of a mouse.

"Eek! Couldn't you have waited or somethin' before doing that!"

Your smile is mischievous.

You don't give him a reply, but instead slowly add the chickpea flour and curd mixture into the pot. Hand outstretched, you grab the ladle from Mammon and stir the mixture, ensuring that it does not curdle.

"Should I drain the rice now?" The demon says, though his tone indicates that he's aware of it being ready, yet asks for your affirmation.

You nod, attention still focused on the simmering contents before you. Just a bit more and it will start to boil, then you'll be free. One's mind can't help but wander during such moments, and the memories from your first year here come to mind.

Such peace in this kitchen wasn't always there. Sometimes you would be on duty to guard the fridge against a certain gluttonous demon, another time Lucifer had enchanted the doorway to the kitchen to ensure that whenever someone placed a foot on the kitchen threshold they would find themselves frozen.

It took a whole two minutes for Lucifer to finishing blending the ingredients and turn around to realise that you were stuck on the spot.

Cold metal against your skin makes your eyes widen.

His breath tickles your neck as Mammon hugs you from behind, content in watching you. Goosebumps raise on your skin as his hands slide against your stomach. You place a hand on his, squeezing lightly.

With your and Mammon's boundless energy, nothing short of chaos is expected. Any shenanigans that occur are credited to you both. Always smiling, always snickering.

Moments like these are rare though.

"There, all done." Your voice comes out in a whisper, and you leave the pot be. The kadhi has come to a boil, and Mammon hangs onto you as you add turmeric and salt to it. Half an hour more, and it will be ready to eat. You and your demon are simply content like this, to be.

"Your cooking is really nice, ya' know?" He mutters into your skin, placing a kiss on your neck. "We could make tons of Grimm selling it."

"You'll be my sous-chef then." You turn around, gently removing his hands to place them around your neck, a gentle smile on your face. "You will look so cute in a kitten apron, and flour on your cheeks." You swipe away the flour for him, pinching his cheek at the end.

He always gets riled up at being compared to a feline, though the inhabitants of this house would agree that the cat with the 'head empty' look suits him.

You called Belphegor eepy once.

"Deal no longer valid. Cook alone," Mammon grumbles, removing his hands and turning around to leave the kitchen. But you know he would never.

"Hey, sorry, sorry!" You laugh, grabbing the hem of his sleeve to make him turn towards you. When he does, there's a cute pout on his face as he glares at you. "You're adorable on your own. My first-man," You affirm, smile still present.

It was three am at night when you and Mammon first cooked together. Hours of playing Devilcraft, and with the demon hoarding all the gold he had mined, you both finally got up and stretched your tingling legs and got to work on sneaking into the pantry and then annihilating the kitchen.

You remember jumping in pain after having eaten the hotter than hot toasted sandwich. To top it off Mammon had added hellfire peppers.

It took a minute of hobbling around in agony before downing a glass of milk.

Although you've grown quite tolerant of Devildom cuisine, perhaps even taken a liking to it. The stew you make on Tuesday nights always gets appreciation, and you always serve it first to Mammon.

When he's got your undivided attention like this—you both cooking together—and in tune with each others thoughts, the domesticity of it, like a married couple, makes his heart swell.

Greed is his sin.

That means he'll always crave you, a love set in determined devotion.

When the brothers arrive an hour later, they find two lumps on the couch, complimented with a messy kitchen.

#qrowsofafeather #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me belphegor #obey me leviathan #obey me beelzebub #obey me asmodeus #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon x mc #obey me fluff #obey me scenarios #i need to write more hnghhhh

[ghostbite0]

How did everyone else find out about the baby situation? Did the blood demon art (...I'm assuming that's what it was; on second thought I can't remember if you specifically said that's what happened) take a while to set in and they were already back at HQ, or did the kakushi find them and bring them back?

Also what were the other hashira's initial reactions?

thats still to be determined-- i have yet to really iron that part out. i was thinking the three had JUST returned from their mission when the blood demon art took effect

Alternatively, the three are hit with the blood demon art, and Sanemi and Giyuu's crows go to get help. Since Gyomei is closeby, he is the first to find the three. After reeling over these three tiny babies, he takes them back to the headquarters, where they inevitably face the rest of the Hashira!

what were their reactions...? great question!

Hashira Reactions:

Shinobu: she couldn't help but giggle at their situation, but she quickly looked them over and ensured they were healthy physically. after they found some fitting clothes, she began to endlessly tease the boys-- particularly Giyuu, because, of course, she would tease Giyuu. she kept joking about how cute they were and how they should leave them like that, which was followed by Sanemi trying to throw something at her but failing miserably. Giyuu reluctantly lets her hold him, and then it turns into Giyuu not letting anyone aside from his closest friend, except for Gyomei. Gyomei's wonderful. Rengoku, too.

Tengen: similarly, Tengen cracked up. at first he was more confused and taken aback than anything, but once he knew for certain they were okay, he began joking around alongside Shinobu. he vocally brainstormed what kind of outfits to put them in, resulting in all three babies shrieking/whining at him. he claims Sanemi right off the bat and learns the baby is super ticklish. He spends a good chunk of the interaction tickling the little guy whenever Sanemi gets frustrated or angry. at one point, Sanemi pulled on his hair, so he tickled Sanemi nonstop until the baby could babble strings of reluctant apologies

Gyomei: he's really conflicted due to his backstory revolving young children, but his caregiver instincts take over, and he fawns over them. being the one to find the babies, he's the first to hold and comfort them, so of course, being as paternal as he is, he gets attached. once he took them back to the other Hashira and explained the situation, Shinobu began checking their vitals and what not, and he would continuously pipe up to ask how they were. this was soon followed by him bringing up how they needed to get the babies fed and taken care of-- which, again, had all three in distress/embarrassed

Rengoku: His big brother instincts go CRAZY. Similar to Gyomei, he automatically begins fussing over them and asking a lot of questions to make sure they're alright—though Rengoku asks the babies directly: "Are you okay?" "How old are you?" "Which demon did this to you?" "Are you hungry?" "What kind of food do you guys eat?" "Or are you still nursing?"... that sort of thing!

Muichiro: oh he thinks the situation is hilarious. he's completely monotone and stoic during the first encounter, but the second he's with the three babies, he's teasing them. he talks to the babies as normal and will just calmly ask, "Do you need a nap?" and says things like, "You're fussing an awful lot. Maybe you need a bottle."

he's basically a little shit. however, he does ease up later when he realizes Obanai, in particular, is having a really hard time, and his soft spot for him becomes evident. Obanai always looked out for him, so he wants to look out for Obanai! he becomes his main target in the teasing but is also obviously Muichiro's favorite. Muichiro will ruthlessly tease Sanemi, though. he thinks its funny

Mitsuri: she was in TEARS the second she saw the babies, and Tengen had to hold her back from rushing over and scooping them up. she thinks they're adorable and is already scheming with Tengen on how to dress them up, and what to buy them, and what not! once she was given the okay, she darted over and fussed over the three like they were actual babies-- only to be mortified when she was informed they all maintained their memories. she was flustered for a while, but once Obanai began to get really distressed, she jumped back into action. she would end up cradling him and kissing his little head until he calmed down, and of course, everyone just gave them knowing stares. Obanai was very embarrassed. Mitsuri interpreted this as Obanai getting fussy again, so she just returned to snuggling him.

feel free to ask more questions or send in hcs and what not! i love this au oh so very much...

#askbites #tiny 21 trio au #demon slayer #kny #not artbites #deaging #agere #kny agere

[ticklygiggles]

Scent | Lucifer x Diavolo x Fem!Reader [N$FW]

A/N: Commission for my dearest baby sweetie boo @otomiya-tickles Thank you so much for you kind support my dear, you're always so nice and precious to me I love you endlessly. I hope you enjoy these horny demons asjdnsjansf

Summary: Lucifer comes back to the House of Lamentation to find that he can't access his own office?! There's only one person that would dare to do such thing besides their annoying brothers!

Words: 5.5k (under the cut)

He could sense magic as soon as he entered the House of Lamentation and he tensed momentarily by the door, sharpening his senses and feeling a slight rush of adrenaline coursing through his body, but after a heartbeat he realized that it was a magic that he knew so very well and a warm feeling spread across his chest as he relaxed again... until his heart dropped to his feet- why on Earth was he feeling this magic flooding the House of Lamentation and why did it seem to come right from his bedroom? More specifically, his personal office? 

Lucifer whined deep inside his heart. "Rats," he mumbled, fighting the urge to stomp his foot like a human child throwing a tantrum.

The magic only seemed to intensify the closer he was to his office and more profanities slipped from between his lips. This was no good. He knew very well that this was one more of Diavolo's silly games and he almost didn't want to open the door once he was standing in front of it. He didn't know what he was going to find once he turned the knob, and he was a little scared to find out too – he had a lot of work to do that evening and he wasn't sure he'd have the time to deal with one of Diavolo's diversions that would most likely make Lucifer fall behind in his work. 

He grabbed the knob and gripped it tightly, causing it to creak and shake under the strength of his grip. Lucifer took a deep breath and counted… one, two, three…, but his hand remained glued to the knob, refusing to turn it around to open the door. One… two… three…, again, nothing. 

"One… two… three! Huh?" 

This time he had turned the knob or at least had tried to. The knob he was holding so tightly had barely jingled before it suddenly stopped mid-turn. Lucifer blinked, perplexed and profusely confused by the situation, but he tried again, but the door remained closed. Did Diavolo….

"... Locked me out of my office?!" 

Unbelievable! What was he trying to do?! This was no behavior for a Crown Prince, was it?! Ah, but he'd see, this was not going to stay that way! Lucifer growled and in his mind he casted a small teleportation spell that, in seconds, had him appearing in front of the beautiful wooden door of Diavolo's personal chambers.

He gripped the knob and with a swift move the door opened wide for him. Lucifer took a step in, and baring his fangs, he said:

“Diavolo, can I know exactly why you decided to lock me out of- oh?" 

He didn't notice it instantly, but as he took a step further into the room, a wonderful scent tickled his nose. His nostrils immediately fanned and he took a deep breath, taking it all of that sweet smell and feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine. 

It hadn't been that long since he smelled that scent, but it was a gift to be greeted by it when he was not expecting it. Was this the reason why Diavolo purposely made him go to his room? Oh, Lucifer might be able to forgive him if that was the case.  

"What are you guys doing?" He said, suddenly aware that there was, perhaps, a bit too much noise in the room. Was that… laughter? 

"Ah, Luci!" Diavolo said, looking up at Lucifer. "I knew you'd be here soon!"

"Luhuhucifeheher! Sahahahave mehehe! Mahahake hihihim stahahahap! I wihihill dihihie!" 

Lucifer frowned as he closed the door and slowly made his way to where Diavolo and the source of the laughter were.

There, behind the beautiful white canopy covering Diavolo's massive bed, Lucifer found the Crown Prince sitting at the edge of the bed, grinning mischievously with a playful glint in his eyes as you squirmed and jerked about while Diavolo tickled you mercilessly.

He was barely surprised to see you there. He would often find you huddled in Diavolo's room when Lucifer was, perhaps, a bit too busy to humor you with his company. Your visits to Diavolo, however, would often end with you and the Prince being scolded not only by Lucifer, but also by Barbatos who claimed that 'you were a great distraction to the Master. Thanks to you, he will avoid his work and that will be a problem for everyone'. He would then try to drag you out from Diavolo’s room, but you wouldn’t leave and, above all, Diavolo wouldn't let you go.

In other words, Lucifer was simply unfazed to see you there, instead, he was puzzled, for that delicious aroma was still so very present, filling every corner of the room and, if he was not mistaken, it was even intensifying as seconds went by.

Diavolo's hands buried under your arms had your head thrown back with hysterical howls of laughter, a very cute yet rare sound, Lucifer had to admit. Also, were you ticklish? He remembered Diavolo and himself had playfully and briefly tickled you in the past, just a squeeze or a poke, but it seemed that you were really ticklish, if the cute snorts meant anything at all.

He had already completely forgotten the reason why he had personally gone to Diavolo's room, his mind busy in other things as he moved even closer to Diavolo and his little victim, he then asked cautiously:

"Were you guys having… fun while I was away?"

Diavolo must have noticed the implied reference of 'fun' and, still tickling you to pieces, he looked up at Lucifer and frowned, tilting his head to the side in the most adorable way possible, making Lucifer's heart swell in his chest. 

Diavolo hummed, "we weren't," he said solemnly. "We've been doing this… for quite a while now, I'd say," he admitted without a trace of shame as he looked down at your laughing face with a tender smile and sparkly eyes. "Why do you ask- oh, did you know that our cute human was ticklish?”

Lucifer chuckled, shaking his head slightly, “I did not,” he said, grinning at seeing your pink face before returning his attention back to Diavolo. “I was asking because there's a scent in the room that made me think so."

Diavolo frowned again, "what kind of scent- oh."

Probably caught up by the discovery of your ticklishness, Diavolo seemed unaware of the exquisite aroma spreading throughout his room, but now that he did notice, his hands immediately went to a stop and he took a deep, deep breath, his cheeks turning a little pink as he looked down at you one more time, excited wonder in his darkened eyes. 

"We haven't… done anything," he said, seeing you catch your breath between a severe case of the giggles. 

Lucifer couldn't help but smile tenderly at your adorableness, but shudders running down his spine were making his skin bloom with goosebumps and he so desperately wanted to take you right on the spot, but instead of giving in to his low instincts, he waited patiently until he thought you'd be able to speak properly.

"Mind to explain, beautiful?" Was the first thing he said as soon as your giggling had died down a little.

You looked up at him through teary eyes, "I- I swehear I didn't do ahanything! Diavolo just staharted tickling mehe a-and-"

"Not that." Lucifer shook his head, uncrossing his arm to wave a hand, signaling to the whole room. "I mean this."

You blinked, looking around the room from your spot laying on the bed and Lucifer wanted to laugh. How could you be so clueless of your adorableness? Did you have any idea what you did to Diavolo and himself?

You highly probably didn't. 

"Hmm, what?" You asked, a very confused expression in your face. "The… room? I didn't… make it…?"

Lucifer rolled his eyes fondly and Diavolo chuckled, confusing you even more. 

"Of course you wouldn't notice," Lucifer mumbled, shaking his head. "I mean that your scent is all over the room. You are aroused."

Your eyes widened and the blush covering your cheeks deepened until it was a vibrant red color. Lucifer fought the urge to chomp at them as if they were the most juicy apples, rather, he let a dangerous smirk curl the corners of his mouth. 

"I'm not!"

You were lying. Lucifer knew this smell by heart, he knew it as well as he knew the magic that now flooded his office. Humans would call it pheromones, a strong scent that stimulated all of his senses, arousing him beyond belief. There was no way he could be mistaken, especially not when Diavolo himself had also smelled it and recognized it right away. 

It was impossible to not recognize your scent. It was intoxicating. It made Lucifer feel light-headed and his heart would beat like crazy within his chest. A wave of heat would rush through his body, making him shake and tremble as shivers ran down his spine. He often salivated like crazy too, mouth watering for you; fingertips itching to touch you. 

Simply put, there was no way in all three realms that he could mistake that wonderful smell and yet there you were, lying to his face as if he didn't know better.

How adorably dumb of you.

“You always expel this scent when you are… excited,” Diavolo explained, making you look at him. “You can’t smell it, of course, but Lucifer and I can and we can't be mistaken, my love. You are, like they say, turned on." 

Your eyes were wide and your face red and if Lucifer didn't know you, he'd think that you really were terrified, but he did know you and he clearly saw that glint of excitement twinkling in your eyes.

“Hmm?" Lucifer purred and he grinned devilishly when your eyes jumped back to him. "Could it be that you were having so much fun playing that little game with Diavolo? Do you like being tickled that much?” Your eyes went impossibly wider and Lucifer froze on the spot, his smile dropping. “Wait, do you actually-

“No, I don’t! I just… Dia- Diavolo was t-touching me so I- Ah! No! What are you doing- stop!” You yelled, jerking when Lucifer sneaked his hand into one of the legs of your loose shorts. He had propped one knee onto the bed, leaning and hovering you. “Lucifer, don’t! Ngh!”

“Keep acting like this,” he warned, cupping your sex and pressing on it with the heel of his palm, "and you’ll see what happens to nasty little liars like yourself.” His hand pulled your underwear apart so his gloved finger could slide into your heated cunt, you were dripping wet and a loud moan escaped you when he curled his finger inside you, touching your tender spots.

You grabbed his arm and tried to push him away. “Lucifer, please,” you sobbed, tears of shame and pleasure clinging to your lashes. “Don’t do this. D-Diavolo,” you cried, glancing at Diavolo with pleading eyes. “Tell him to s-stop, please!" 

"Don't do this, you say?" Lucifer asked, hovering more on you. "When you're already soaking and leaking?" He chuckled when the blush on your cheeks impossibly deepened and you jerked your hips away from him, shaking your head. 

"Did you really like me tickling you that much, my love?" Diavolo suddenly asked. The sweetest gentleness in his voice. Lucifer saw him cupping your face between his hands as you shook your head again. "If you liked it so much, you should've said so!" 

"I s-swear I don't! It's just, ngh! Haaa, wait! Wait, Lucifer, I- ah! Ahahaha!" 

Surprised, moany laughter filled the room as Lucifer thrusted a single finger into you, teasing the weakest spot inside you and Diavolo's fingers were brought to life and they were pressed into your waist, tickling you all over again. Your hands tried to fight Diavolo's, but also Lucifer's and a cute human like you could only do so much against their inhuman strength, so in the end, you could only grip onto their wrists, trying to push them away. 

Lucifer smirked at you. And you said you weren't turned on by the tickling? Now that Lucifer was stimulating your insides and Diavolo was tickling you, that sweet scent intensified, making both demons feel dizzy and just as horny as yourself. You were basically sucking onto his finger and he easily thrusted one more digit into you, curling them nicely to pleasure you.

You tried to close your legs, making Lucifer growl as he settled between them, keeping them open so he could angle his hand to keep touching while your clothes still got in the way. He felt strangely aroused when you squeezed him between your legs and he chuckled, sliding one more finger into you. 

"Ngh! Plehehease! O-Oh, plehehease!" You cried, both your hands now moving to push at Diavolo. "Dohohon- ah! D-Dohohon't do this! S-ngh-Stahahap!"

"Why do you want us to stop if you're enjoying yourself so much?" Diavolo asked, genuinely confused, his thumbs digging into that muscle right above your hips, causing Lucifer to shudder, feeling that same spot tingling on himself. "Is Lucifer hurting you?" He teased and Lucifer huffed. 

"I assure you I am not," he said, looking at you with half-lidded eyes. "I am doing my best to make her feel good, as always." 

He kept hitting that sweet spot within you and he knew that the fabric of his glove was making you feel strangely good, but Lucifer wanted to give you more. He wanted to see your eyes roll back, he wanted to make you see stars, he just wanted more.

"AHAHAHA! W-Wahahait! NGH! Ah, w-wait! O-Oh, w-wahait!"

Poor you. It was as if Diavolo and Lucifer had read each other's minds for Diavolo had moved his hands to your tummy, causing your laughter to increase as well as your squirming. Lucifer, on the other hand, had pressed his thumb against your hardened clit, rubbing deep circles, making you throw your head back with a loud moan, your legs shaking slightly around him. 

"I think our cute human will cum soon," Lucifer said, feeling the scent thicken around you all. "What shall we do, Diavolo?"

Diavolo chuckled, stealing a quick kiss to Lucifer's lips before sneaking his hands under your shirt to tickle your bare tummy.

"S-Stop! N-Nohohoho mohohore! No more! I- ah! I'm c-cumming! I'm- aaah!" 

Looking at you cumming was something out of this world. Both Lucifer and Diavolo thought they had seen no creature as beautiful as you. The way your features twitched in pleasure, your body tensed and shook with the force of your orgasm, back arched beautifully. The way your hips tried to move away from their touches, and that wonderful unrestrained moan that escaped from your lips – all of you. They simply loved all of you. 

And now, they have seen a new side of yours. A little secret that you were probably planning to keep to yourself for the rest of your days, but they had discovered it and Lucifer knew that neither him or Diavolo would forget about it. Especially not when your lips were trembling into a pleasured smile as you went through your high. 

Lucifer felt you clenching wonderfully around his fingers and he made sure to walk you through your orgasm with gentle touches against your clit. Diavolo on the other hand, had turned his quick tickles into soft ones, fingertips dragging across your stomach, fluttering against your jumpy lower tummy. 

"S-Stohop… A-Ah… N-Noho mohore," you babbled, trying to push their hands away from your hypersensitive body. "I c-cahan't, it… it tihickles…"

"And you love every second of it," Lucifer said, pulling his fingers out of you, making you cry and tremble.

"N-No." You shook your head. "Please, s-stohop," you said breathlessly, your skin still covered in goosebumps. 

Lucifer chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you sure about that? Diavolo, what do you-"

All the words got stuck in his throat when he looked at Diavolo. Lucifer felt a shiver run down his spine when he saw the lust darkening Diavolo's pretty golden eyes as he looked- no, stared at you. Lucifer heard the soft muffled sound of you holding back a whimper. He saw you trying to make yourself tinier under his intense gaze.

"I think,” Diavolo started and both Lucifer and you jumped a little, “that our dear here wants to play some more," he said and you shook your head nearly desperately, but who were you trying to fool?

Not them, obviously. Right?

Lucifer nodded and smirked, lifting his drenched gloved fingers for you to look at them. "Look what you did," he said. "Will you be a good girl and clean them up for me? Open your mouth," he commanded, not waiting for your answer, and your lips trembled before you opened your mouth wide for him. 

Lucifer felt his hard-rock cock pulsating when he shoved his fingers into your mouth, making you gag slightly before you started sucking on his fingers, tasting yourself with a lustful glint in your dazed eyes. Your weak, trembling hands wrapped around his wrist and Lucifer smirked, shifting his hips forwards so you could feel his hard cock against your sensitive pussy. You moaned, grinding against him as his one free hand sneaked under your shirt to lightly trace your stomach. You choked around his fingers, letting out muffled giggles. 

You looked so devastatingly wrecked, it made Lucifer’s cheeks flush as he grew more and more excited, his teasing thrusts against your clothed arousal grew faster as he was starting to feel it a bit too much and grunts and moans kept escaping from between his lips. His head started to feel light, his breathing became erratic and with just one more grind against you, Lucifer finally came in his pants. 

He pressed his fingers against your tongue as he circled his hips. The release was blissful and almost painful after holding in for so long. He hung his head back with a pleased sigh as his body trembled and tingled. He was not one to cum this easily, in fact, the Avatar of Pride felt a little embarrassed as he slowly started to regain his senses. His flushed cheeks felt hotter as he pulled his fingers out your mouth, grinning lightly when you coughed around a moan. He shyly looked over at Diavolo. 

His eyes widened and he trembled when he found Diavolo looking at him, face also flushed and fangs bare. 

"I'm going crazy," Diavolo growled. "Take her clothes off,” he commanded, making you squeal and squirm. 

Lucifer gulped. Things were heating up. 

Diavolo grabbed Lucifer’s wrists and guided his wet gloved hand towards his own mouth; Lucifer held his breath when the Crown Prince bit the tip of his middle finger and pulled the glove off with his teeth. 

"Do I need to repeat myself, Lucifer?" He purred, an eyebrow raised as he licked Lucifer’s finger. 

The Avatar of Pride couldn't help but smirk, his body vibrating. "No, Your Highness," he said, quickly hooking his fingers into the waistline of your shorts and underwear, pulling them down. "I'll do as you say," he mumbled and your shorts and underwear were off in an instant, exposing your drenched warmth.

You shrieked, quickly trying to cover yourself up. "N-No, wait! D-Don't look! I-”

"Arms up." 

Your arms immediately raised above your head on their own, making you cry out as you tried to pull them back down. Lucifer saw with a watering mouth how they stayed up, not moving even a millimeter. Your eyes were wide, looking at Diavolo with little tears on them. Diavolo had used his magic to keep your arms pinned and a ting of excited fear settled in your eyes. 

What were you feeling exactly, Lucifer wondered. What did those tears mean? The sobs making you shake slightly could make him think that you were hating every second of it, but when you looked at him, he could see flames of lust in your eyes and he had seen those beautiful pleading eyes many times before to perfectly know that you were enjoying yourself more than what you wanted to admit. 

Also, that sweet scent kept overflowing the bedroom, he was worried Barbatos might feel attracted to it as well. If you were hating this, would the scent be so damn strong as it was?

"Pl-Please…"

Please what, Lucifer wanted to ask, but then, Diavolo's deep voice was filling his ears and he couldn't think straight anymore. 

"You had your fun," Diavolo said, gently placing a hand on Lucifer's shoulder. "Now it's my turn."

Lucifer nodded, obediently moving to the side from between your legs that quickly closed, trying to hide your pulsating and swollen pussy. He couldn't help but lean to capture Diavolo's lips in a fierce kiss. Tongues pushing into each other's mouth, swirling together in a dance that had Lucifer feeling light-headed. A pretty moan escaping him, causing both you and Diavolo to moan too. 

The Avatar of Pride smirked against Diavolo's lips before pulling away, gently pushing the Crown Prince to that perfect spot where they could see their human from the best view. 

"Di-Diavolo," you said, arching your back. "Pl-Please, I think- eek!" 

Another adorable shriek left your lips when Diavolo rested his hands on your knees and suddenly opened them up widely, licking his lips hungrily. 

"No, beautiful," Diavolo purred. "I don't want you to think, I actually want your mind to go blank so you can only focus on all the pleasure and tickling you're going to feel."

Lucifer shivered when you moaned, arching your back and thrusting your hips in the air. 

"Now, excuse me," he said, his head lowering. “Thank you for the food.”

You gasped, "w-wait, n-no, ah! Aagh, Diavolo! Dia- angh!”

Lucifer saw with great pleasure how your eyes crossed when Diavolo's lips pressed against your heated and wet skin. His tongue licking the length of your slit, pushing into your folds until he found that little spot that had you seeing stars. 

"D-Dia- aaaah- Diavolo! Ah, please! Please!" 

Lucifer's hands were itching, but he just couldn’t tear his eyes apart from your beautiful face furrowed with pleasure. He couldn’t stop looking at your body, squirming and arching and pushing into Diavolo's mouth as he ate you out. He wanted to hear those delicious moans and those obscene wet sounds Diavolo evoked when his fingers also joined the fun, going further inside you as he sucked on your poor clit. 

He wanted to look and hear, but oh, he so desperately wanted to touch you too. 

“N-No, Lucifer!” He ignored your cries as he grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it up past your head and up to your immobile wrists. Lucifer grabbed your ribs and he chuckled when you jerked heavily. “I, I don’t w-ant- nnghh, this! Please!”

“When will you stop lying?” Lucifer purred as Diavolo slurped down between your legs, making you cry with pleasure. Lucifer lowered his head to your chest and he looked up at you adoringly. “Are you not ready yet to admit that you’re enjoying this?” He felt your skin covering in goosebumps as he started to place open-mouthed kisses around your breasts, teasing you some more. 

He held your body still, pressing his hands on your ribs when you tried to arch more into his mouth. He felt you deliciously shuddering and trembling under their attention and he thought that he just couldn’t get enough of your frustrated cries and moans. 

“Maybe we should really stop,” he said suddenly, his lips millimeters apart from your nipple, his warm breath making it go hard. Your gasps and moans grew louder and more frenetic by the second. You were so close tu cum again. “What do you think, Diavolo?” 

“Since she’s hating it so much,” Diavolo said, raising his head from your heated folds. “I guess we should stop.”

The amazing frustrated cry that left your lips had both demons smirking and moving uncomfortably, their clothes becoming too tight around their crotches. 

“Please, don’t!” You sobbed pitifully, your hips desperately shaking, trying to reach that wonderful relief, but it was useless. “Dia- Diavolo, please!”

“Now you want it?” Diavolo asked, cleaning his mouth with the sleeve of his black shirt. “Didn’t you say you wanted us to stop?” 

“N-No, I j-just-!”

Lucifer grabbed your chin and made you look at him. “Would you be a good girl and tell us exactly what you want?” He purred and felt Diavolo’s chin resting on his right shoulder. 

“We might be demons, but it is a hassle to read minds, you know?” He grabbed your waist and you jerked when he squeezed you softly. “So? What is it going to be?”

Oh, Lucifer almost felt bad seeing you sobbing like this, he wanted to take you between his arms and clean your tears, however, ‘almost’ was the key word. He was beyond dizzy with your scent overflowing Diavolo’s chambers. You were enjoying every second of this. You liked them teasing you until you cried, you liked them tickling you and eating you out. You liked them treating you like a little toy they could use until they got bored– so would you be good and admit it?

“Please,” you cried, liking your lips. “Please, please, please… tickle me more and keep making me feel good. Please?”

Lucifer felt Diavolo shuddering behind him and in a blink of an eye, he was back with his head between your legs, not before leaving an open-mouthed kiss to the back of Lucifer’s neck, making him bite back a moan. 

“Ngh! Y-Yes! Th-That feels s-so good! NghahahAHAHA!”

Lucifer went to work quickly too. His hands latching to your ribs, squeezing them gently but hard enough to make you laugh your head off. His light, nimble fingers rubbed, pinched and vibrated against each bone and in the sensitive spaces in between. Your moany laugh made him shudder as he closed his mouth around your erect nipple. Your body reacted wonderfully to that, arching against his hands and mouth, asking to wreck you more. 

“I cahahahan’t!” You laughed, shaking your head when Lucifer’s fingers found a nerve on your lower ribs that had you nearly in hysterics. “Plehehehase hahahave mehehercy! NGH!” You cried, but Lucifer ultimately ignored you as his tongue flicked your nipple.

Lucifer had never met someone who could get horny by tickling. It was a stupid game that he didn’t particularly enjoyed or disliked, but if he could, he would keep himself away from any situation that could possibly have him laughing his head off, so knowing that there was a silly human who liked being tickled to pieces was something new to him, yet it was also absolute adorable and, if he had to be honest, really hot. 

Your laughter was simply beautiful and those obscene noises more so; it was a combination he never thought of but that was starting to be one of his favorites. 

“PLEHEHEASE! Oh, plehehease, I’m gohohoing to cuhuhum! I’m going t-toho-! AH!”

You barely had time to regain your breath before you dissolved into another orgasm. Lucifer sucked on your nipple and dug his fingers into your highest ribs, so close to your armpits, as he felt you coming one more time. Your body jolted, shivered and trembled with great force, your skin covering in goosebumps. 

He lifted his face to look at you, a string of saliva connecting your nipple to his mouth, and he whistled, seeing your face. You were sweating, tears rolling down your cheeks, drool dripping down your chin and even some snot was coming out from your nose. Your face was red, your eyebrows furrowed- you looked so beautifully wrecked, Lucifer could barely take it.

“P-Please,” you babbled, whimpering as Diavolo kept licking your trembling clit. “N-No m-more. It tihickles!”

“You’re gorgeous,” Lucifer mumbled, his nose nuzzling your wet cheek as you came down from your high. “I want you to laugh some more.”

You shook your head, “n-no plehease, I j-just cahame. It’s g-gonna be soho ba- AHAHAHA!”

Lucifer’s fingers were suddenly nestling under your arms, your armpits nicely taut for his fingers to tickle them merciless. 

“NOHOHOT THEHEHERE!” You begged, howling in hysterics. Your laughter was the loudest they had ever heard. “Plehehease, Luhuhuci! I’ll reheheally dihihihie! Plehehease nohohot thehehere! I juhuhust cahahame!”

Lucifer chuckled, his fingers wiggling right in the middle of your armpits. “You’ll not die,” he said tenderly. “I won’t let you.”

You could only shake your head as Lucifer tickled you. The Avatar of Pride was vicious in his attack, he wanted to hear that hysterical laugh, he wanted to indulge you in all the tickling you’ve missed for not telling them what you wanted.

“I really can’t take this anymore,” Diavolo suddenly said and Lucifer turned around just to see the Crown Prince unbuttoning his slacks, his cock, red and wet, escaping from his underwear, looking ready to burst. Lucifer’s fingers froze as he stared at Diavolo’s length, he gulped, swallowing thickly. “You don’t mind, right beautiful?”

You gasped for air as you weakly lifted your head to look at Diavolo, your eyes widening when you saw his erect cock. You shook your head. “Di-Diavolo, I ju-just came. Give me o-one moment, I- fuck! Angh!”

He easily entered you. You were plenty wet already, Diavolo slipped easily into you. The Crown Prince gripped your thighs as he moved in and out. Your moans filled their ears and Lucifer didn’t know where to look, but his fingers twitched and he remembered he was tickling your poor, exposed armpits.

“NO! Nohohoho! Nahahat thahahat! Plehehehase! PLEHEHEASE! Luhuhucifeheher!” You threw your head back, laughing and moaning as Lucifer heard Diavolo’s own grunts and moans along with the sound of skin slapping against skin. “H-Hahaharder! Diahahavolo, h-hahaharder!”

Diavolo chuckled, “o-oh?” he said, through gritted teeth. “Harder? Like this?”

You moaned, “Yes! Yehehes, mohohore! Plehehase, mohohore!” 

“More what?” Lucifer asked, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk as he vibrated his fingers against your armpits, making you snort. “More tickles?”

You nodded your head weakly, “YEHEHES, plehehease! AH! Ahahahaa, nnngghh!”

Lucifer was surprised when you jolted and he looked behind him to see Diavolo’s thumbs sinking into your hips, tickling as he fucked you nicely. “You like that, beautiful?”

You nodded again, your voice hoarse. “Yehehehes! I’m gohohoing- annghh! I’m gohohoing to cuhuhum!”

“Me too,” Diavolo mumbled and Lucifer how both his lovers came undone at the same time. Their moans sending shivers down his spine. 

“LUHUHUCIHIHIFER PLEHEHEASE!” You shrieked in hysterics. Lucifer hadn’t stopped tickling you and after cumming for the third time, you were far from sensitive, he was amazed you could laugh still. “I’m gohohoing crahahahazy, plehehehease!” 

“Are you now? I’m sure you’re loving- whoa!” He was a bit startled when your arms suddenly came down, trapping his hands under them. Diavolo had broken his own spell and now you were free to move and squirm as you laughed your precious head off.

Lucifer chuckled and he finally stopped, pulling his head out from under your arms to let you catch your breath. You collapsed against the bed, breathing heavily and twitching a little. The strong smell slowly faded away and the demons’ arousal slowly died down as well as they looked at you adoringly and they both laid beside you, embracing you between their arms as they whispered sweet things against your ears.

‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘Were you scared we were going to make fun of you?’

‘Was that too much?’

‘Did you enjoy yourself?’

‘What was your favorite part?’

A bunch of questions that mostly had you giggling because their whispers tickled you, but you answered each of them and they were satisfied, knowing that you stubbornly refused to admit that you were enjoying yourself. 

“Thank you,” you said softly. “That was amazing… I wouldn’t mind repeating it again some time.”

Lucifer laughed at that and he squeezed your waist, making you giggle. “Like right now?”

“Nohoho! N-Not now,” you said, shaking your head and moving closer to Diavolo who gently covered your naked body with a blanket. “Right now I want to sleep.”

Diavolo beamed, “a nap sounds fantastic right now!”

Lucifer made a face, “we’re all sticky, though, let’s take a bath first.” He hid a smirk when you and Diavolo whined like children as he got up from bed, heading to Diavolo’s bathroom. “Who knows,” he said, shrugging. “Our hands can slip and we could end up doing something else- oh, weren’t you both in bed?”

Suddenly, you and Diavolo were behind him, following him into the bathroom and he chuckled, shaking his head.

In the back of his head he thought about the main reason he had visited Diavolo’s chambers in the first place and he felt guilty thinking about all the paperwork that was awaiting for him at his office. Maybe he can skip the napping and let his darlings rest while he worked and-

“Aha! N-Nohohot mehehe! Not mehehehe!” Diavolo laughed, already half naked with your hands glued to his ribs, tickling him playfully. 

Lucifer sighed, smiling softly. Well, that paperwork could wait one more day, couldn’t it?

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me! #lucifer x diavolo x reader #ticklish!reader #ticklish!Diavolo #just a tiny bit lol #tickle fic #spicy #n$fw #mia's things #mia's fics #mia's commissions #ginnycakes

[akunoniwa]

Purgatory

AN: life has been life-ing and ive been a wee bit uninspired, but this idea struck me so please accept this curse

I guess this is becoming somewhat of a 'series' of mine, so maybe expect more of these in addition to Gaap and Dantalion, we shall see.

Synopsis: In which your local voyeuristic demon gets a little too close, driving you mad from the inside out

Pairing: Dantalion (Ars Goetia) x fem!reader

Warnings: MDNI, a local demon gets in your head and teases u to his hellish desire

WC: ~3.5k

You’d not initially notice his presence, as goes with any entity akin to him, though he had his means of showing himself. Or rather exposing you to himself.

Truth be told, he’d not often indulge in something so menial, and often tedious, as lust and desire, preferring to adorn his mind with more ‘technical’ ideas… However, the more he realized his natural tendency to abstain, the more curious he became about this part of himself… Sex is inherently science. Methodical yet, at face value, requires almost no attention to what one may consider scholarly. Many of his fiendish acquaintances take utmost and sole pride in such helpless dallying, even despite their grandiose roles in Hell, you’d think lesser demons would be more prone to indulge. It’s those very demons, even further down in the gallows, that aren’t allowed to frisk around even with the scum on Earth, only leaving such privileges to demonic ‘royalty’. Not until they learn to bullshit their way to the top of the bottom.

Above all, he recently learned that he loved to toy with your mind.

How you were chosen as the victim was truly random… He likes to tell himself this. Countless humans think they can withstand the allure of ascending, or descending, beyond their plane of existence, you being one of them. Merely speaking oneself into alignment, simply taking interest in a certain demon’s name can tickle the hairs in their pointed ears.

Your mind wandered endlessly for a few consecutive nights, hooked on a filthy idea you’d read in a sleazy novel, but somehow his name kept appearing. This was your own invasive mind, at first, your readings colliding into a cesspool of blatant pornography and mindless, esoteric interests. Though, he heard his name, damn near right against both his sensitive ear and aching abdomen, and was immediately intrigued.

He can manipulate one's thoughts, usually used in the context where a conjurer can wield it for the sake of their own, contractually-bound means, but this time… He decided to stray, readily addicted as if he’d been restraining himself for centuries.

He ensured these thoughts were as vivid and as piercing as looking into the sun, these lewd images that you’d cycle through, invading your mind, gradually possessing you. When you’d finally set whatever mindless thing you were doing aside for the night, your lamp would click off. Your mind settled into the grooves in the asphalt once more, hands lingering too low for too long to be earnest. All remotely as he’d write down his fantasies by way of an ornate fountain pen into his journal at his desk, engraving them into your psyche, into your pliable body.

He’d started by simply guiding your hands in a fashion where you’d not likely notice, able to feel the murky heat through your hands on his own. You were beautifully bare, though he’d only see through the eyes that were your palms as he’d coax you through subtle incantations to feel up every inch of you. Your skin was so incredibly soft, your delicate, silk sheets paling in comparison as you writhed beneath what appeared to be your own movements. Almost reminiscent of clouds that’d slowly morph as they crossed the sky, gradually groping yourself into oblivion as you swam in pleasure. Your breasts were scalding, plush, and hypnotizing as he made you squeeze them, making sure to pinch and roll your rosy, pointed nipples between your fingers. He learned that a part of you would promptly shut down should he linger there too long, keeping that information close.

You’d begin to whine and moan, all alone in your darkened room, he swore he felt your voice resonate through his cock, wishing he could present you as the true fallen gift that you were to the entirety of Heaven, Hell, and all between. He was starting to have trouble penning all this down as the sensations were transcribed into his body. What if you called to him just once…? Would you wonder where that name came from? Surely you’d not be able to tell, and perhaps you’re too aroused to care… Just once? Being a demon, he wasn’t accustomed to the cold sweats that overcame him at this thought.

He forced his name into your mind as you were nearing a point of no rational return, sure to maintain the buzz as he made you tease yourself. You started this, though, right? You were the one thinking about the cheap scene of getting fucked in some fictional library that you’d read about, fucked by some human no doubt. You were the one who was too curious for her own good… He needed to hear your small whine, taut with lust, blotted with his name.

“Dantalion…” Synchronized, you sang this as he had you push your hand down the gentle hills of your front, simply pressing a fingertip onto your clit.

“My…” He’d stopped writing, overwhelmed with how delicious that sounded, the need to touch himself growing extremely hard to resist, though he’d not be able to continue lacing your demise legibly. He began to long for you unlike anything else, your pretty body… The lovely cunt that beckoned for him, and so easily at that.

He made you chant it once more, your voice a phantom hand of its own, like a delicate ribbon decorating the length of his susceptible cock, pulling and constricting him. His lines became skewed as he noticed the evident smile in your tone, enjoying every little depraved moment of this.

You managed to gain just enough control of your limbs to push a pair of fingers into your sopping hole, “God…” You complained to the alleged heavens, exasperated. You chose to hold them there to serve simply as a means to fill you, something to clench onto as your other hand traced around your clit.

Of course, you’d plead to a God by default, but he wanted nothing to do with that, he wanted your swollen lips to serve him and him alone. 

What if he tried just…

Your groans of utter delight indicated that his curling of your fingers inside you was the right move, fluttering up against your sweetest spot. Hooked to ensure your disintegration, he made you repeatedly, though slowly, pull your fingers up to assault your delectable little cunt. Perfect. Your face began to bleed with heat as you were catching on to your lack of obvious control, fear encircling you as it was merely an inkling of fantasy at first. It was certain now, as he pushed you to maintain this motion beyond where you would’ve chosen to edge yourself before it became too much.

“So wet…” He allowed this thought to be delivered to your vacant mind in his voice, “You’re putting on such a darling show for me, love.”

Your reflex trumped his possession briefly, covering your mouth as the sensation was becoming too much to bear as he increased the speed. Anxiety battled with absolute pleasure inside you as you were trying to convince yourself that this was still a part of your own consciousness. A voice you’d never heard before, crooning so perfectly from inside you… You were losing your grip as your fingers stammered inside, wetness coating your palm.

“That’s it, my pretty little thing… Playing with yourself exactly as you should, as if it’s all you’ll ever need.” His pen shook in his hand, he wanted to eternally curse himself for how foolish he must appear right now. Alone in his study, using his boundless abilities to bestow filthy, empty nothings to some human… But gods and demons be damned alike, he couldn’t fucking stop.

You couldn’t speak easily beyond what he willed, though your thoughts were still somehow intact alongside his own, completely exposed to him. How your mind ducked and swayed between blinding arousal and numbing concern, they somehow mixed into the perfect concoction of adrenaline. How he wanted to materialize and defile you by way of his own body, however you wanted him to appear, he’d give anything you’d want. Man or woman, human or beast, whatever you wish… He could give you anything you desire, and he’d quickly find out by probing your cute little head.

“With your sweet voice…” He thankfully, for your sanity’s sake, slowed his pace, your hand making hardly any wake, “Share with me what’s lending your body to me in such a delectable manner… How do you need to be taken, my love?”

Confusion, rightfully so, asphyxiated you now that you could process beyond the blaze between your sticky thighs, “Care to tell me what’s going on?” Breathless, you realized you’d barely taken a breath beyond what’s necessary, “I feel like I’m hallucinating…”

“Perhaps I’ll guide your mind, too… Where you left off.” Genuinely inside you, his vast voice couldn’t get any closer, each consonant panging through every nerve, “How you couldn’t contain yourself as you read those mindless words, imagining some faceless figure bending you at his will. Fucking you mercilessly right at the very table you were reading at in the library. It was as if the silence itself was ogling you…”

Forgoing any further questioning, you were committed to reaching the orgasm that seemed to be right around the corner of your bed, “...So I was reading smut… Whatever you are… What’s the problem?”

“No, darling, that’s a lovely hobby, allowing yourself to become so starved for touch, you feel yourself growing wet as your eyes hungrily require more words to feed on. Desperate… Needing cock so frantically at that point, you don’t mind the oversaturated plot and poor dialogue anymore, you just want the sensations to finish the story… I’d never blame you for reviewing just how little it takes to drive you insane.”

He took you through your memories from earlier that day, how you truly couldn’t care less about how this author chose to depict this shallow sex scene. It simply served to remind you how depraved you’d felt recently, not recognizing what the cause could be.

“Are you some… What are you?” You were finding it hard to keep your eyes focused as your own, uncontrollable fingers still caressed inside your infinitely wet hole.

“I’m anything you want, darling. How are you envisioning me? Whose fingers do you want inside you most? Whose lips do you need against your porcelain skin, sucking, biting, whatever you require…?”

Your eyes finally shut, and heavily at that, overwhelmed by these words, “Fuck…” You could feel this everywhere, even your heart bursting at the seams with viscous, yet undefined, warmth.

He grinned an unseen grin, though you could hear it through his relaying, “Precisely,” Your left hand was made to dote on your curves elsewhere, pacing itself all over you in a way you’d not be able to manage, “How would you like me to please you…?”

‘Do whatever you want.’ He heard in your mind, finally peeling you away, one thought at a time, one you couldn’t bear to speak into fruition, “Is that so?”

“I see nowhere is safe…” You panted as your hands crowded you by way of his lead, “Whatever you are, however you look, I wish you’d just…” You still couldn’t air them, you were still too conscious to let yourself go, to revoke yourself and surrender. That made him dizzy with pure need for you. The need for you to break.

“You’ve got control, darling, and I know how badly you need this, judging how you considered touching yourself in your car in the parking lot earlier. Dirty thing.” His tone was playfully poking at your brain, “Just speak it and I will give everything to you.”

Blushed, your cheeks were braised by the thought of him somehow seeing you like that, your breath quickening, “You would’ve loved to have seen that, I would guess…”

“Oh, my love, how I could’ve made you do such a thing but decided to wait and savor you all for myself like this instead.” His pen ought to have rolled right out of his office at this point, now relying on his mind to maintain ample connection as he gripped himself through his work robes. Perhaps you’d prefer his true form…? How that prospect made him reel like nothing else.

He psychologically choked you, the thought too diabolic to simply accept, “Dantalion, the name you had me call…”

“Mm, you must keep saying it, all flustered and needy as you are.” He need not mind your awareness of his identity, besides, not even most of his ‘colleagues’ can ascertain his true appearance.

“Please, then… You already have me at your mercy.” You squeaked out, the overwhelming, foreign feeling pressing on your chest making it hard to serve your mind to him.

“You can’t be shy, I’ll give you a hint… It may have something to do with the pool of wetness dripping so elegantly from your cunt.” He also ought to just laugh right in your face, though he kept himself in check, not allowing his cock to kiss the air just beyond his slacks before he finally took you as he was meant to.

You whined that salacious little noise of defeat, “Take me, then, more than you already have… Fuck me until you’ve properly possessed me, Dantalion…”

As you imagined when you were reading that trashy novel earlier, he truly growled as you’d read the verb, not guttural, though. It had a tinge of ironic soul from his center as he basked in your pleas to be overridden by him in whichever context he saw fit.

“Yes, finally you’re coming to terms with yourself, darling…” He forced your hands to your sides, depriving you of any stimulation that wasn’t from his physical being alone, “Though you must tell me first what you wish to see.”

Brows pushed inward, you were perplexed but think you understood enough to give him free rein, “However you need to present yourself, please… Your words have done enough so far, come as you are.”

“My love,” His pet names berated you at every opportunity, he just couldn’t resist, “You’ve realized, surely, I’m not a familiar being, I am not human. Though I can be that if you so wish.”

“What difference does it make?” You tried to imagine some otherworldly being, but generic images of a commercialized devil were all you could manage. You needed that tingling feeling to be addressed once more.

“That’s fine with me…” He gave you no further warning, though he chose one of his frequented masks, as he didn’t have one true embodiment. Wanting to fuck with your limits, he chose the most unfamiliar while still having the physical ability to fuck you like you so desperately deserve. Over your planked form that lay in adorable wait, he began to materialize, immediately you were aware of his broad frame as he caged you. He was… Limitless, it seemed, the dark not providing much of a vantage for gauging his height. He wasn’t uncannily huge, per se, though his hands were almost twice the fanned circumference of yours, fingers of one hand able to span the plain of your stomach. You knew his face was close, soon feeling a long tongue paint the right side of your neck as he was finally able to breathe you in.

What threw you, though, was what felt like… A snake-like sensation that meandered between your lower thighs, almost independently with a mind of its own. It was as if you could feel the grin on his face like a knife at your throat as he waited for you to acknowledge it, something he knew would make you quiver with more than apprehension. He knew you would adapt at record speed, learn to need his tentacle-like cock as your desire for completion nearly oozed from your very pores, let alone your eager hole.

Its tip rolled up towards the peak of your thighs, he could adeptly sense the way your muscles twitched, even slightly, how your breath lost its bearing, “It makes no difference at all, darling, as I’d love to take you like this. How I know you’ve never been fucked, surely not by any human I’ve ever seen.”

He was taken aback by the strange competition he felt for your bodily approval, not having validation for why he sought this from you. You bewitched him, somehow, and as he hovered so heavily above you, he didn’t care to understand why.

You came to terms with what he meant, not able to imagine what his slithering cock might even feel like inside you, but fuck were you infinitely curious as his tongue lapped at your upper neck now, your earlobe added to the rotation. His teeth were sharp, though he wagered them against your skin with care so as to not outright injure you… Without you asking for it, that is.

“I want to taste you…” A hand lingered with clear intent to your overflowing cunt only to swipe up your arousal for himself with his middle finger paging through your folds. Your room was quiet enough to hear when his long finger popped back out of his mouth, only to find that same soaked finger forcing its way into your mouth. 

You gave him a moan of delight as he was at last inside you in some capacity, earning yourself a noise of satisfaction from him in return, “Savory, sweet…” He lolled on, “You taste so good, my darling… Too good, almost.”

You continued to lather his finger eagerly with your spit, “You need this so badly, I can smell the relief emanating from you.”

What was odd, is that truly you had the upper hand in this situation, though were you to discover how to use it, he may never return to his rightful, hellish gallows. Touching you… Rousing your shakes and quivers, the velvet of your tongue painting his finger. The desperation and greed in humans pale when juxtaposed with that of a demon, the comparison being a laughable prospect at best. He would brutally devour you, absorb you, though he’d never be able to indulge in your physicalities like this… A contract he’s finding he’d never agree upon. Though you didn’t need to be privy to that, the salty fear he tasted from you was phenomenal.

Your expression was one he’d need to be framed in his office, swept with lust as your tiny hand gripped his wrist for more control. He put his hand into a rhythm of movement, fucking your soft lips, his eyes nailed to your face. He wasn’t expecting, however, your audacious move to lead his hand to a halt, licking a scalding streak to his palm, moving to his index. Though he didn’t allow your control for long, grabbing your chin as his tongue left your neck to face you head-on.

“You absolute fiend…” You could hardly make out his facial features, but his eyes had a slight glow of amethyst to them, his pupils a dilated diamond as he made you observe them. His curious cock danced between your thighs, teasing as the tip continued to run from your inner knee to the very top of your thigh. It had a viscous slick of its own, leaving a cooling sensation in its wake, not completely unlike a novocaine as it almost seemed to numb. At the same time, your senses were heightened, feeling his movements tenfold as your muscles twitched, to your abashed dismay.

“I trust you feel me, feeling you, darling…” His tongue lunged to taste your slack lips, yours meeting his adventurously, winding and mingling, “I wish I could take you in that library… That seemed to make you ravenous. How, even when you’d pretend to try to stay quiet, I’d make sure everyone could hear your body slam into mine… Your sloppy little cunt weeping for me as I tear your soul to shreds.”

Your face contorted, lost in the foggy woods that were his words, “You seemed to enjoy just peeping into my thoughts.”

The tentacle that you still couldn’t size up managed to wrap beneath your left knee, lifting your leg to spread you for him, air slashing your most delicate part, “You seem to take pleasure in knowing I heard them.” A second identical feeling joined, making you jolt as it slithered up your right thigh as its greeting, “Mm, I can damn near bite into your excitement, how badly your body is telling me it needs to be filled with something… But as much as I love that, I’d rather you tell me in that pretty whine of yours.”

The tentacle around your knee tightened, forcing your leg further upward, though this served as more tension for him as he needed some kind of friction to keep himself at a reasonable bay. The other blunted tip was set on reaching your clit, inching closer and closer…

Though not until your word would he allow you that privilege.

#really he just taunts u #so not really... monsterfucking... but monsterteasing #仕方ない #dantalion #ars goetia #monster fucker #monster smut #demon x fem!reader #demon x reader #demon smut #also really trying to not just give in to the urge to write more dottore or astarion...............................................

[demontickles]

Demons gonna slither his TONGUE endlessly between these sweaty cocky TICKLE BOY TOES!! 😈

#tickle demon #tickled

[butmakeitgayblog]

🪽I just remembered birds will often preen and flash their wings to show off for their mates and can't get the idea out of my head of Demon!Lexa absolutely using her wings against Clarke's obvious weakness for them. Just stretching them full out to their magnificence every now and then to see Clarke go all big eyed, fluffing them up whenever Clarke compliments her, letting them swish around a little more freely when Clarke is watching, flexing and snapping them in arguments or when she's protective of Clarke 🪽

The ride out is deafeningly quiet.

Heavy in the settled weight of it between them, the fog of unspoken words only broken by the swish and thunk of too-new wipers that squeak across the windshield in maddeningly timed intervals.

Clarke grips the wheel in a loose fist. Easy, careless. Relaxed and unbothered. Everything her insides are not.

She glances over to her passenger, sat hunched and just as silent as she'd been when they'd pulled off, merely watching endless field go by.

Clarke turns down another deserted road and feels the wheels crunch along wet dirt and gravel.

"Baby." She reaches for the hand clutching an endlessly bouncing thigh. Pries it free from its death grip. Fingers turn and twist in a dance that requires no thought at all that point, just enough to slip easily in between the spaces of Clarke's own.

Eyes turn to her, looking so much more grey than their usual enchanting green under the dreary backdrop of skies that spit rain and rolls of thunder.

Lips pull tug up at the edges in a woeful attempt at a smile, looking foreign aand uncomfortable on such a normally deviously pleased face.

"Are you okay?" Clarke asks, squeezing the hand laced with her own.

A single slim shoulder lifts in a shrug. "Of course."

"Are you though?"

"Yes."

"Because it's okay to not be okay."

"I know."

"But I'm just saying. If you're not—"

Lexa's next smile is more genuine, somewhere between fond and fondly exasperated as she takes Clarke's hand and lifts it to her lips to dust it with a kiss. "I know, gorgeous," she whispers against Clarke's skin, nipping a bite of her teeth to Clarke's knuckle for good measure. "But I'm fine."

The tickle of her lips makes Clarke's skin tingle with ever sweet, plump brush.

Clarke smiles back at her girlfriend, pulling her closer and chancing the safety of their ill-gotten means of transportation for moment when she leans over to steal a kiss directly from the source.

As a treat. And a promise to let the subject rest. Because as much Clarke wants to be the dutiful girlfriend— supportive and soothing and all that other therapy-talk crap she could think of, the truth is that hearing Lexa's confirmation that the plan was still on sent a wicked thrill racing up Clarke's spine.

Because she'd been waiting for this shit for months.

Months of gently prodding and encouraging, of blatantly pandering to Lexa's insatiable fucking ego, of sweet words and shamelessly trading promises for sexual favors. She'd been relentless, in an entirely loving and supportive kind of way she'd insist, but single minded in her pursuit nonetheless.

And now it was here and, fuck, it was all Clarke could do not wiggle in her seat as she pulls back to send her girlfriend a fang-capped smile.

Lexa's eyes brightened at her obvious excitement, even if the palm in her grip stays clammy. But the air feels lighter between them as Clarke eases the car off the desolate road and takes them out further into the clearing surrounded by a thick boundary of woods.

The rain had all but stopped by the time she parks, only a few sprinkles refusing to give up their southern march. They get out in a flourish, Clarke's speed born of pure excitement, Lexa's of a deeply misguided desire to gallantly always open Clarke's door.

Arms wrapped around her waist the second they met in the middle at the front of the car.

Clarke decides her pout is more than worth the disappointment.

She doesn't give Lexa time to dwell on it anyway.

"You ready?" she breathes instead, running her hands over the tightly coiled muscles where her girlfriend's unyielding shoulders meet an elegant neck.

Lexa simply nods with a sigh, pulling Clarke closer until they're flush, skin warming against the chill autumn air that rustles through the open patch of field.

A purr explodes low in Lexa's chest, vibrating in deep sensual rolls that shoot straight down to Clarke's core. Lips find hers and sweet her up in a punishing, demanding kiss.

Clarke loved when Lexa gets like this. When she teeters on the knife's edge between damnation and saint. When the demon inside of her that sits quiet and patient on most days came forward to rattle the hinges of its cage and threaten to pull Clarke down with it.

Her moan dies on the wind as Lexa moves to cradle her jaw, holding her captive as she licks into her mouth. Clarke's hands squeeze the swell of Lexa's perfectly round ass, earning a grunt of satisfaction at the way it made hips grind deliciously against hips.

It is a promise.

An oath.

A vow of things yet to come; a depraved sacrament sealed in lips and tongue for it all to be fulfilled later.

After this little shit got her ass off the ground.

Clarke pulls back from the kiss with a stinging bite to a plump lip, smirking at Lexa's hiss of pleasured pain.

"Stop stalling," Clarke says with a quick lap of her tongue to catch the trickle of blood before the wound can completely heal right before her eyes.

Pools of black glitter under the canopy of clouds as Lexa hums and smirks right back. "Not stalling," she lilts, fingers toying with shorter curls around Clarke neck. "Just tasting what's mine. It's the lord's day after all. Think of it like an act of worship."

"Baby." Clarke leans in and whispers against Lexa's lips. ".... You are so full of shit."

Her angel's laughter was light. Breathy, airy, and sweet, teeth flashing sharp and deadly in the richness of her joy.

Clarke traces her hands in loops along the holy ground nestled between shoulder blades. Expectant. Wanting. Waiting to give comfort to raw and reddened skin exposed by Lexa's loose fitting tank top like so many times before.

But as always, Lexa surpises her instead.

"Would you mind if I walk for a minute? I think," Lexa says around a thick swallow, "I think I need a moment to myself."

Clarke fights the crease of her frown, searching within the abyss of twin inky eyes and finding only resolution and calm. "Oh course, baby. Do you... Do you want me to go?"

"No," Lexa says quickly, extinguishing the embers of disappointment and alarm before they can set. The sloped tip of her lips is easy when she smiles, when she leans down and gives Clarke another lingering peck, when she pulls back and rests their heads together and releases a shaky sigh. "I always want you here, my love."

Clarke's arms hug Lexa tighter at the poorly concealed plea within the endearment.

The one that still makes Clarke's heart pound even after all these months of living in blissful sin.

"Okay, baby. Whatever you need," Clarke says in a silent promise right back, knowing Lexa hears the unspoken assurance that she's not going anywhere loud and clear.

They release each other with only a little nod of agreement. Clarke climbs onto the hood of the car when Lexa shakes her limbs loose and takes her leave, uncaring of ass prints or dents as she settles in for the show. The rain that clings to the paint seeps through her jeans, but she pays it no mind, eyes focused and forward on the retreating figure.

It wasn't entirely a surpise.

Because Lexa had been honest, had told her hesitation and why she hadn't truly used her wings in so long.

They'd been laying naked in bed, sweat cooling on their skin as they twisted and curled into each other. Sated sighs had given way to contented hums and sex-muddled grins as they'd rested on outstretched bed of feathers. Clarke's fingers slipped through the satiny black. Watching the plumes rise and fall like tiny cascades of water under her touch.

She would never get over their softness.

And she'd listened when Lexa had said just how intensely she hated them. How she wished every day that they were gone. How she loved Clarke touching her in every way possible... but kind of hated the sight of her touching them.

The idea of it broke Clarke's heart.

Because Lexa was beautiful, and so were her wings, and she knew in her soul one couldn't exist without the other. They were a pair, a holy union of flesh, feather, and bone; a devastating tableau gilded straight from the very heavens that had damned her. They'd endured an eternity of wrath and ire, and carried the scars of brimstone laden hellfire, and without their menacing shadow, Lexa would never be whole.

So Clarke had pushed.

Had worked to mend the tattered relationship between them in soft encouragement, and reverent touches, and a steady stream of praising words of devotion for the last true thing that tied Lexa to the place she'd never be allowed to call home again.

But this boundary, this final line of reconciliation... she knows there is nothing left for her to mend.

This last step was something Lexa had to do on her own.

The minutes tick by on breezes and sputters of mist as Clarke watches Lexa amble about the open space of the field. She watches her angel stop at every flower patch, pausing to pick a bloom or two, only to stand and twirl it between her fingers.

Crush it.

Cast it aside and move on.

A clap of thunder rolls off in the distance as Lexa comes to a stop in the center of the field, head tilting back in a whip of curls as Lexa lifts her face toward the sky.

The earth goes deathly quite.

Hands ball into fists, muscle and sinew tightening with the strain, and though Clarke can't see the welts crack and bleed from such a distance, she knows the heat and feel of their rawness well. Black blooms like inky puddles from Lexa's shoulders, dripping in midnight shaded curls that stretch and wind out to the sides. The wings unfurl and fluff themselves into existence in a sinister display of opulence, sleek and deliciously lethal against the field's serene backdrop.

It's enough to have the air catch in Clarke's throat, leaving her struggling around a breath because somehow the damn things seem... bigger.

Enormous, in fact, if her amateur artist's eye is to be trusted and the little demon voice in her head makes a joke about how her girlfriend is apparently a 'grower'.

Because now the wings stand tall, stretch wide to double their normal size and jesus christ why hadn't Lexa ever mentioned that those fuckers can get bigger?! Those wings that have caressed her and held her close, that have warmed her skin with their silken touch. Now they suddenly look so ominous. So lethally beautiful in their grandeur.

Slack jawed and gripping the hood of the car beneath her for dear life, Clarke watches as Lexa visibly breathes a sigh of relief once the whole ordeal is done. And she looks small, so painfully small standing there under the proud crown of feathers that have settled in a menacing halo around her back.

Face still turned up toward the heavens, Lexa takes a set forward in the clearing as her arms slowly rise at her sides.

She's a vision of all things holy, a Hadean picture of the damned and divine, an annointed messenger bearing witness to the gospel of heaven and hell standing right here on earth.

A gasp rises and dies in Clarke's throat when feathers span and stretch out, and with a ominous downward snap of her wings, Lexa takes off into the air.

The sudden whoosh of wind cracks across the clearing, kicking up fallen milkweeds and splintered grss blades and sending them spiraling through the air. The force is enough to have Clarke sitting back in surpise as her hair blows back off her face in a rippling puff. The trees sway and whine with the force, branches swing in protest of dancing leaves that flip and scatter on the wind.

Clarke's heart races at the sight of it.

At the sheer power of those wings bending the earth to their will.

It's beautiful. Ethereal. Terrifying to behold.

Clarke watches Lexa rise higher with each graceful flex and fold of them, wings stretching wide, lifting upward in an elegant arc only to swoop down in a rumbled clap of air. One leg bends at the knee as Lexa crests the tops of the trees, arms still relaxed and crooked at her sides as though she's floating on air.

She knows no virtuous salvation could ever rival the ecstacy of bearing witness to such a heavenly figure.

The clouds are truly a blessing in that moment, the stark white and grey of them throwing Lexa's wings into haunting, darkened relief. All black plumage looking as grimly void as the cosmos of space as they take flight across the upper crowning of trees.

Lexa flies steadily upward, gaining altitude in steady lifts and sudden bursts of wing-thrust. She loops sideways on breath of wind and barrels downward like slingshot, only for wings flatten and curl and whisk her skyward again.

Clarke's stomach lurches in commiseration, faintly imagining what it must feel like to be so high and so free. Feels the churn of their breakfast roll uneasily in her stomach every time Lexa takes a sharp turn, stops short to hover and look out over the world before taking off with another graceful whoosh of her wings.

The moments pass in the unsteady palpitations of her heart as Lexa disappears beyond the skyline only to reemerge again. She dips low along the tree tops, slices meticulously through their branches, and soars high enough to be nothing more than a speck among the clouds.

It's as terrifying as it is beautiful, and it makes Clarke with the knowledge that that's as close to the heavens as her lover will ever be.

Clarke clambers down from the hood when Lexa coasts close enough that she can feel the air swell with each beat of her wings.

Jet black eyes snap to her. Hold her. Pin her with their stare.

A stare gleaming with silver and gold speckles she's convinced her love has snatched right from the star strewn edges of the cosmos above.

She doesn't think she's ever seen Lexa's eyes look so alive.

The wind whips around the opening in lazy gulfs as Lexa descends back down toward earth, wings now beating a lazy rhythm that matches the slowing thump in Clarke's chest.

Lexa lands in flutter of feathers, all wild, windswept tendrils curls of brunette as her feet kiss the wearied grass blades below without a stumble or falter to be seen.

Before Clarke's world can stop spinning in the awe coursing through her veins, Lexa lurches forward, lips drawn back in a snarl and razor sharp teeth bared to the sky. Jet black eyes flash with murder as she collapses to her knees. A guttural growl rips through the serenity of the air as Lexa slams her fists to the earth in an echoing boom.

It's enough to make the very ground shake. Jolts Clarke straight through her bones. The ground cracks beneath them with the force of the blow, fracturing in tendrils that wind out from her fists and explode in a dirt-laden ploom.

The mud and dust settle in an eerie calm unbroken by even a songbird as the earth seems to still in the wake of Lexa's fury.

It is as thrilling as it is devastating to witness the full scale of Lexa's strength in the remnants of her heartbroken destruction.

Clarke inches toward her wild thing. Moves in slow, shuffling steps to not startle her, clinging to the last vestiges of her calm because at least one of them has to be, as she watches Lexa stay hunched there. Shaking, wings twitching with each labored breath.

She eases down to her knees, careful of the cracks that scorch the earth as she shuffles in as close as she can get through the protective crown of feathers that hover above. Her fingers ghost over chesnut curls that flutter madly in the wind to slip under the steeled bend of Lexa's chin.

Something in her breaks at the sight of her, face so angry and so lost and so achingly small in the towering blanket of her wing's shadow. Twin pools of black that look up at her beneath the hang of lashes. Looking so hallow, so haunted, wet with the tears that threaten to break loose and spill over.

"I thought I'd hate," Lexa croaks in a watery whisper through the sludge of emotion that clogs her throat. "I wanted to hate it... But I missed it."

The sting of her eyes turns Clarke's vision hazy as she gives a jerky nod of understanding and gathers the broken pieces of her angel into her arms.

#anon #demon!lexa #what happens after you'll have to read in the epilogue 😘 #clexa #betcha thought you were gonna get something sweet snarky huh #I'm sorry... I'll do it again

[fuedalreesespieces]

i beg of you

Summary:

“Inuyasha?” she breathed.

His expression grew even more startled. “H-how do you know my name?” Before she could respond, he tried to dart past her legs, but she stepped in his view before he could. “Move it, lady! Or else I’ll-”

“-tear me apart with your claws, yes, yes, but answer me this...” she looked him in the eyes, resisting the urge to wipe the dirt off his cheeks, to sit him in her lap and give his hair a good, long brush. Her voice came out shaky. “How old are you?”

“The hell kinda question is that?” he spat. “Let me go, you crazy miko!”

or: a twelve year old inuyasha collides with post-canon kagome.

read full fic on ao3!

[this is an inukag snippet from the fic that I like, though the majority of the fic is focused on things other than romance...such as time travel hijinks]

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The morning atmosphere was viscous enough to sink into forever - coverlets over his shoulders, the lilting sweetness of the porch-side flowers tickling his nose; sunlight streaming in through the window, painting his wife’s naked shoulder in buttery tones. Somewhere in the distance, the villagers were waking up, but within the confines of their hut, the air was crystallized and still - a painting awaiting life. 

In the fog of his mind, an irritating voice that sounded like Miroku cheekily reminded him that they had a demon extermination later that afternoon, and that he ought to get off his ass.  

“Damn him,” Inuyasha mumbled, sliding a hand down his face. Beside him, Kagome stirred. 

“Talking about other men in bed, anata?” she teased, leaning up on her elbows and yawning. She turned to face him, her grey eyes sparkling with amusement. 

“Hell,” he breathed out, repressing a grin, “where do you get your ideas, woman?” 

She let out an airy laugh, subdued by the sleepy slur in her speech. “And good morning to you, too,” she greeted, just as he craned his neck to meet her lips. 

During their three years apart, he’d dreamt of this moment a thousand times, and each time it was a little different. In some dreams, she would laugh before she kissed him, as though her every breath consisted only of joy. In others they were quiet, letting their kisses speak for themselves, allowing their hands to write scrawling, unsaid messages onto their skin. 

Fragments of those dreams would make their way into their real exchanges, but it was never the same. Her laugh was as genuine as the sunlight dancing across her collarbone, her smile just as radiant, and when she crawled into his embrace and leaned up to look at him, he knew this was no dream – it was home. 

He’d dreamt of homes before, back when he’d traversed the forest and claimed small caves nightly as temporary roosts. He’d dreamt of walls around him to trap the warmth that escaped so often from his vicinity; he’d dreamt of solid wood beneath his wary feet. 

But many things encompassed his definition of home now: waking up next to his lover, his best friend. Watching her pickle vegetables and mutter foreign songs under her breath. Hearing her curse awkwardly as she fell in a heap in their garden while trying to pull out stubborn weeds. Laying their meager clothes out on a line and coyly flicking each other with the soapy suds of water left in the wash tub. Exchanging bits of village gossip over lunch while they made up stories about wandering vagrants passing through the street. 

Home wasn’t as simple as having a constant fire in the pit, not without her there, struggling to start it herself. 

Every conversation they shared, from the menial, monosyllabic ones, to the ones that spun out like thread from a spool and spilled over into the following days, was the act of returning home. Before her, he’d never known one could maintain a conversation that long, or that he had so much to say.  

But he supposed she answered both of those questions. It was only with Kagome that could talk endlessly with, and it was only her that he could sit in serene silence with, and it was only her that gave him the temptation to ignore all his duties and stay under the coverlets forever, kissing her numb. 

Not that she, of course, ever let him get away with doing something like that – most of the time. “I thought you had a demon exorcism today?” She pulled away from their kiss to rest her chin on his chest, eyeing him questioningly.  

“Some offshoot village by the mountains,” he told her. “Damn, I forgot about that. Miroku’s probably ready by now.” 

“Then you have to hurry, Inuyasha! I’ll make you something to take with you while you get dressed.” Her eyebrows drew forward in thought. “I’m sure we have onigiri...somewhere.” 

“Any pickles?” 

She rolled her eyes. “You and your pickles.” 

“I can’t help it,” he said, brushing a kiss against her cheek. “You make them so well.” 

“A toddler could pickle food,” she muttered, though her tone betrayed a smile. He’d never been the type for empty flattery, and his blunt nature was the main driving force behind the quick improvement of her cooking skills - not that they had been bad to begin with. His obsession with the acrid taste of pickles was unexplainable, though, especially considering how acute his sense of taste was. Not that he particularly cared, because her pickles were, quite possibly, the shit. 

They made their way out of the bedroom and into the rest of the house. He’d built the place thinking of her, and many of its assets were inspired by the way she lived in the modern era, especially the bathing tub. He still remembered the exhausting market day he and Miroku had spent trying to find a wash tub suitable enough for human bathing, only for their search to grow convoluted as every other vendor declared that they had a larger tub than their competitors.  

It was all worth it, though, when he saw her walk past the reed mat in the evenings, drop her empty herb basket on the floor, and declare herself deserving of a nice, hot bath. She never played around with them, either, taking her time as she sang songs in a language he’d never heard of – English , she called it – and let him massage the stress out of her scalp and shoulders.  

Kagome tied up some onigiri in a cloth pouch while he put on his suikan. Holding back the reed mat, he saw a few men with shovels tossed over their backs talking in a secretive fashion as they made their way to the fields; children accompanying their mothers with heaving pails of stream water. From this vantage point, he could glimpse Miroku walking up the hill, the tinkling of shakujo rings announcing his impending arrival. 

“Here you go,” Kagome placed a cloth package in his hands. “Onigiri, a bamboo flask, a bit of fish-” 

“Pickles?” he asked hopefully. 

“-and your pickles,” she finished with an amused snort. “You know, my mother used to tell me if you ate too many pickles, you’d get all filled up with gas and float away, like a balloon.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Nope,” she said, popping the p. “I just made it up. But you’d make a cute balloon.” 

“Cheeky woman,” he muttered. “You goin’ over to Sango’s for breakfast?” 

“After I finish up the washing, yeah. And I have to clean up the tub since I didn’t do it last night. I’ll have to go say hello to Kaede-sama, of course, and while I’m there I’ll go check on those herbs in the storehouse I kept for tinctures-” 

“Kagome,” he cut in, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. “Breakfast?” 

“Breakfast,” she agreed, blushing.  

He arched an unconvinced eyebrow. He knew she liked the business of it all, and though there were moments where his wife simply didn’t feel up to it, her work was everything to her. It was worrying that sometimes she would simply forget to eat, too engrossed in her herbalist training and miko duties to remember that she had her own needs, but that was what he was there for – to remind her, and, if necessary, drag her from that damn shack near Kaede’s that reeked of a thousand different herbs and fix her a good meal. 

Now, if she would remember to do it on her own for next few days of his absence, that would be a miracle. 

“Do you want me to make you somethin’ real quick?” he asked, already facing the river. “I could fetch some water to steam rice with.” 

“I’ll be fine, Inuyasha,” she reassured, pressing his clawed hands between hers. “Besides, I wouldn’t miss Sango’s stew for the world.” 

“As would I, but duty calls, I’m afraid,” chimed a familiar voice from outside the house. The tell-tale scent of incense met Inuyasha’s nose – Miroku had just left the temple, it seemed. “Are you two decent?” 

Inuyasha rolled his eyes. “Are you ever?” 

“Now, now, my friend. Let’s not go there.” 

Kagome smiled and swept the mat aside. “Do you want something to eat, too, Miroku-kun? I’ve got some onigiri and fish.” 

“If we wait any longer, it may take longer than anticipated to reach our destination, so I’m afraid I’ll have to decline,” Miroku lamented. “Shall we head out, Inuyasha?” 

As usual, he carried nothing on his person, used to living off the land (the more appropriate term being stealing ) when it came to his travels. It was one of the qualities that made him such a good partner in the business – both he and Inuyasha had been vagrants for lengthy periods of their lives, so they made good time when on their missions. 

Regardless, Inuyasha didn’t particularly enjoy leaving his wife alone for so long. He knew she could take care of herself, but it didn’t change the fear that snagged him by the heart whenever he returned home; the way his shoulders would sink with relief when he saw golden firelight seeping out of their hut and the scent of something cooking over charring wood. 

He knew she could take care of herself – hell, he’d often come back to stories of her killing rogue demons, stories that had gone through the rumor mill and came out transformed into wild anecdotes she’d entertain him with over dinner. He was aware of her strength and precision. She'd refined her skill over the years, if the archery targets in the forest were any indication.  

But Inuyasha had lived with the knowledge that she was almost certainly safe in her world during those three years, and that hadn’t done a damn thing to ease his worry. If anything, it was a reminder of just how easy it was for the one good thing in his life to disappear.  

“Inuyasha?” came Kagome’s voice. She cocked her head. “Are you okay?” 

“’m fine,” he grunted. “Just waitin’ to get a move-on.” 

“Such a hurry,” she tutted, patting his chest, where the cloth of food rested in the folds of his suikan. Her head rested against him, and he wrapped his arms around her waist. “Don’t worry about me, Inuyasha. I’ll be okay. I’ll head straight to Sango’s after you leave.” 

“Good,” he affirmed. “You ought to eat somethin.’ Don’t think I didn’t see you skip dinner last night.” 

“You were sleeping!” 

“I ain’t ever in a sleep deep enough for you to feel guilty about interrupting it.” 

“Hey,” she huffed. “You’re changing the subject.” Kagome met his gaze, hands rising to settle on either side of his face. Her thumbs caressed his cheekbones, her touch soft and reverent. “I promise to be safe, ‘kay? I’ve got my bow with me at all times.” She pecked his lips. “I won’t go and get myself eaten up by a demon. I’d leave you a note if that happened, though.” 

“Don’t even joke about that,” he warned, squeezing her waist. She laughed and kissed him again, pulling away only when they ran out of breath to share. “Do somethin’ boring like...laundry. Keep yourself out of trouble.” 

“What if there’s a demon catfish in the river?” she asked innocently. 

“Woman,” he said, staring her right in the eye, “I expect you to shoot the damn thing and have it for dinner.” 

#inukag #inuyasha x kagome #kagome higurashi #inuyasha fanfic #inukag fanfic #inuyasha a feudal fairy tale #inuyasha and kagome #fanfic

[bazzpop]

Solace

@flashfictionfridayofficial

Mesopotamia, 3005 B.C.

Crawley found comfort in the stars.

He hadn’t remembered much from his time spent as an angel—the memories having been ripped from him the same way his grace had—but he remembered the stars.

Or, more specifically, he remembered his stars—the ones he’d explicitly had a hand in creating.

The memories he retained were jumbled and fragmented, most being way too hazy to make any real sense out of, but he could tell which ones were his when he first laid eyes on them. He could feel it, almost as if—despite his new nature—he was still…connected to them, somehow, and he took comfort in that. At least that hadn’t been taken from him in the Fall.

Wistfully, he laid against a flat boulder, still warm enough to provide a defense against the cool desert night, and stared up at his crowning achievements that would stand the test of time.

Looking at them from Earth was fine, and beautiful in its own way, but it wasn’t nearly as great as seeing them up close and taking in their true brilliance. They appeared a lot smaller than when he’d cradled them in his hands, coaxing them to grow and shine as brightly as they could, and now only seemed to be no more than pinpricks that dotted across an endlessly dark sky.

Crawley was so lost in his own head—too busy thinking back on how it felt to hold and crank out new stars and nebulae—chest aching with something that felt so close to loss that he didn’t rightly know how to deal with it—that the scuffle of someone tentatively approaching him went unnoticed until that same someone spoke into the night.

“Is that you Crawley?”

Crawley startled so violently at the intrusion he nearly fell from the rock, down onto the plush sand below him. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d fallen from somewhere, but at least this time there would have been a much softer landing. Not that he needed to worry about landing, though, as a strong hand shot out from pale robes to steady him before he could even tumble off.

“Aziraphale?” He couldn’t help asking, even as the angel stood right in front of him. “What’re you doing here?”

“Oh, nothing, really. I’ve been doing some blessings for the people of Ur, but nothing major.” Aziraphale took a step back, hand falling from Crawley’s shoulder to twine his fingers together. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“Demons don’t get startled,” growled the demon, though he scooted over and patted the rock next to him invitingly.

“Of course they don’t, my mistake.” Aziraphale amended, taking the offered seat. “So, what are you doing out here?”

“Stargazing,” Crawley answered honestly, settling onto his back and looking up once again. Aziraphale joined him a moment later, laying down with a quiet hum.

They laid together like that for a while, side by side under the night sky, taking turns knocking their feet playfully against the other’s every couple of moments as they basked in the simple intimacy of being in company with the closest thing either of them had ever considered a friend.

But then Aziraphale’s expression turned troubled, prompting Crawley to break the silence between them.

“Something on your mind, angel?”

Aziraphale hesitated, fighting with himself to find the right words, before he propped himself up on his elbow to look at the demon next to him.

“Do you—ah, do you miss it?” He asked, squeezing his hands tightly over his chest, tone sounding almost…guilty, for some strange reason.

“Miss wot?”

“You know, um…making stars.” Aziraphale waggled his fingers in a poor attempt at mimicking what he’d seen Crawley do long ago, under a different—more angelic—name.

“Don’t really remember it,” Crawley sniffed, pointedly not looking at Aziraphale, and instead locked his eyes on a blue star—another one of his—that twinkled in the distance. Suspiciously, it almost reminded him of the angel’s eyes.

“I see…” Aziraphale sighed, dropping back down to rest his head beside Crawley’s, fiery curls tickling his ear, and miracled a wine skin for them to share until dawn.

—

South Downs, 5,031 years later

The night was clear, if a bit on the chillier side as Summer gave way to Autumn in the South Downs, and an angel and a demon were nestled under a tartan blanket on the porch swing overlooking their garden.

Tonight was a special night, after all.

One of Crowley’s stars—the very first one he’d ever made—was dying.

When Crowley had told Aziraphale the news he’d responded with sympathy, and was more than ready to shower Crowley with all the comfort he possibly could give, but the demon had, curiously, shrugged it off while looking more excited than sad about it—almost as if he’d been waiting for this exact moment for millennia.

Crowley’s eyes were glued to the sky—waiting for something Aziraphale had no clue of— but the angel found himself smiling as he watched the excitement dance in his demon’s uncovered eyes.

Oh, it was so good to see Crowley happy like this. It was little moments like these that made everything they went through feel worth it.

“Stop lookin’ at me, angel, you’re gonna miss it!”

"Sorry,” Aziraphale said, not really sounding sorry at all, and continued to look at the demon from the corner of his eye, "where am I supposed to look?"

Crowley pointed towards the western sky at the same time a brilliant light flashed. His star had imploded on itself, bursting into tens of thousands of glittering shards that scattered across the sky and formed new stars where they landed. Each one still connected to Crowley; each so wonderful like the angel, turned demon, that created them long eons ago.

“Oh! Oh my, Crowley…they’re lovely.”

It was Crowley’s turn to watch Aziraphale instead of the sky, smiling more openly now after having grown more accustomed to allowing himself to do so in the space they’d carved out for themselves here in the South Downs. He snuggled closer.

“Not as lovely as you.”

Aziraphale blushed. “Charming old snake.”

“Only for you.”

Yes, Crowley still took comfort in looking up at his stars, of course he did, but they weren’t the only things that brought him comfort anymore.

Nowadays, after more than six thousand years of history and one almost-apocalypse later, Crowley found that he could also turn towards Aziraphale, his best friend and most precious love, for comfort too.

#prob gonna have to give this a once over in the morning I’ve been drinking #bazz writes #good omens fanfiction #good omens #flash fic friday #flash fiction friday #fff219 #aziraphale/crowley #crowley/aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziraphale good omens #crowley good omens

[waltwhitmansbeard]

Vaxleth + being an expert in teasing the other

2. being an expert in teasing the other this is gonna be cr, in the year gap!

Vax has never had so much time to do with as he pleased. Since he and Vex left Syngorn, there has always been something to do, something to steal, some need to fulfill. For years now, Vox Machina has been rushing from one emergency to the next, fighting beholders or vampires or fucking dragons, all to make the world a better place, and now it is, and Vax has nothing but time.

So he spends his days doing what he loves best: watching Keyleth be amazing. She's fallen into her role as Tempest far more naturally than she had predicted (not him; nothing could surprise him less than her success as her people's leader), and as a result she is often called all over Tal'dorei to help with this project or that. She takes these request in stride, hoping to open Zephrah up to more collaboration with other cities and towns across the continent. It often leaves her exhausted and aching for home, but she is doing good work, and he is so endlessly proud of her.

Today, though, he does not have to share her with some city council or demanding town mayor. Today, she has nothing on her schedule, and she is entirely his, and he plans to make the most of it. Well, his plans are largely to laze about and feed each other food under the blooming cherry trees on the cliffs, but plans are plans nonetheless. He lets her sleep in as long as he dares before pulling her from the sheets to dress for a day of lounging about. He has a picnic basket all ready to go, and before she can begin listing off all of the things she ought to be doing with her day, he's dragged her out far from the bustle of daily life in Zephrah. No reading, no meetings, no spell preparation—just him and her and a basket full of food and the candy-colored skies overhead.

He's resting up against a tree with her nestled between his legs, his eyes closed to feel the soft breeze rustle his hair. She reaches up to pop a grape into his mouth and says, "Okay, you win. This is nice."

He grins. "Who knew you had the ability to relax?"

Pouting, she says, "I can be fun."

"Your idea of fun usually ends up with you getting arrested."

"Well your idea of fun usually ends up with Grog doing irreparable damage to one of your testicles."

"But he enjoyed himself, didn't he? When was the last time you let yourself breathe?"

She twists around to glare at him, and then he sees a spark of something dangerous in her eye. The next thing he knows, the gentle breeze that he has become so accustomed to in Zephrah has turned into a gale force wind, localized, apparently, on him, and his hair picks up and swirls around him as if caught in a tornado. He yelps, trying to use his arms to protect his eyes as his demon of a girlfriend laughs. The wind dies down a few moments later, and he doesn't need a mirror to know that his hair is a mess.

"You jerk!" he exclaims, lurching forward to attempt to tickle her, but as always, she's too fast for him. She shrinks down into a tiny sparrow and flitters up to nest in his hair, whistling at him with what he can only assume is mocking glee.

"Alright, alright, you win!" he groans, collapsing back against the tree again. His avian girlfriend flies up in a victory lap over head before settling back down atop the picnic blanket and resuming the half-elven shape is rather fond of.

"I can be fun," she repeats, grinning smugly.

"Only because you cheat with magic," he grumbles as he begins the futile attempt at combing out his tangles.

She shrugs, grabbing a few cubes of cheese to toss into her mouth. "Tell your raven girlfriend to give you better spells instead of this depressing wardrobe."

"How did this picnic turn into my roast?" he moans. "I changed my mind, I'm not getting that tattoo anymore."

"Weenie."

He's had enough of her lip, so he surges forward to capture it with his own. She grins into the kiss, clearly satisfied with herself, and he lets her take the victory.

#lmao i did not like where i was going with this but now i'm happy with what i've got #just a little thing of two fuckin nerds being dumb together #ask #tiamat-zx #critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vox machina #my fic

[george-weasleys-girl]

Chapter 21 - A Quiet Moment

Warnings: brief mention of a major character's death, allusion to underage drinking

Summary: George struggles with his anxiety.

Start here:

~•~

The train chugged along, it's rhythmic click and hiss the only sounds in their unusually quiet compartment. Fred and Angie were off somewhere enjoying a bit of alone time, before they parted ways for the summer. Lee, taking full advantage of their absence, was stretched out across the opposite seat, dozing.

Y/N napped as well, her head resting on George's lap. He mapped out her features, smoothing his thumb down her cheeks, throat and collarbones, before drifting back up to trace her chin and tickle her nose. He had to stifle a chuckle when she crinkled it up, making a funny, little snort.

Safe in their little bubble, George could almost pretend the world outside didn't exist, that Cedric Diggory hadn't been murdered, that Voldemort wasn't back, or that in two months, he wouldn't have to kiss Y/N farewell, trusting that in a year she would return to him for good.

The room suddenly felt too hot, too small. He took a few deep breaths hoping it would calm his palpitating heart, while his mind flooded once again with all the what-ifs. Every possible scenario, from her falling out of love with him to her falling down the stairs, replayed endlessly in his idiotic brain.

George hated he was this way. He hated that his thoughts controlled him. They always had, even as a child, and it only worsened as he got older. Now, with a definitive date for Y/N's departure, they consumed him, burning him like fire from within.

"Georgie? Are you ok?" Her voice was rough and heavy with sleep, yet it still quieted his demons, cowering them with whatever strange magic she possessed. How in Godric's name had he survived so many years without her? How was he going to survive the coming year?

"You know, you snort in your sleep," he smiled down at her.

"I what--?"

"It's the cutest thing ever."

Y/N's eyebrows scrunched together as she pushed herself up. "Have you been dipping into the firewhiskey?" It'd been an emotional week and she wouldn't have blamed him one bit. She'd considered it herself a couple of times.

George chuckled. "No, my sweet, completely sober. Unless you count being drunk with love."

Y/N scrutinized him for a long moment. It wasn't unusual for him to break out in cheesy declarations at random, but this seemed just a little too forced.

"Are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

"Nothing you need to worry about right now."

He placed a finger on her lips just as she opened her mouth to protest.

"Later, my love." George gestured with a quick nod toward Lee, who was starting to wake up. Y/N had completely forgotten they weren't alone.

She nodded. "Ok. But I'll hold you to it."

George smiled, running a finger down her jawline. "I know."

~•~

Next Chapter:

@milivanili99

@slytherclaw1978

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x fem!reader #fred weasley #fred weasley x platonic

[intheticklecloset]

2. Chase for lee Inosuke and ler Tanjiro! 💖 I got so excited when I saw Demon Slayer on the fandom list!! Hope you’re loving it and hope you’re doing well!

TickleTober Day #2: Chase

~~~

“Keep up, Renjiro!”

“It’s Tanjiro!” Tanjiro shouted back at Inosuke, who was currently several paces in front of him as they ran laps around the complex where they’d been healing from yet another intense battle against the demons.

Why were they running laps? Well…honestly, Tanjiro wasn’t entirely sure himself. He’d been startled awake by Inosuke insisting they get back up and active (his friend was never one for sitting still, even while healing) before physically dragging him from bed and outside into the morning sunshine. Then Inosuke had taken off, and Tanjiro had never caught up to him since. It was amazing, really, considering how light on his feet he usually was.

“You’re getting too soft!” the boar-headed man called back to him now. “What if we get called into battle right now? You’ll die on the spot!”

Tanjiro couldn’t even argue with that. Gradually he slowed to a stop, bending over at the waist to try and regain some of his lost breath. Inosuke kept going, but a minute later he had circled around the complex and caught up to him from behind.

“Wimping out already?” Inosuke laughed. “I really am superior to you, Yonjiro!”

“Tanjiro,” Tanjiro corrected breathlessly as his friend sprinted past. “Why don’t you take a minute? You’re going to wear yourself out!”

“Can’t hear you over the sound of my victory!”

Within the next minute, Tanjiro had recovered his breath completely and was standing upright, turned to face the direction he knew Inosuke would be coming from any second now. Sure enough, after another half a minute he reappeared, looking – as much as Tanjiro could tell beneath his friend’s mask – just as worn out but stubbornly refusing to take a break.

“Inosuke, stop,” Tanjiro tried to order, but typical Inosuke completely ignored him and began to run past again.

Tanjiro quickly channeled what little energy he had left into bolting after his friend before he got too far away, wrapping his arms around his waist from behind, trying to slow him down by sheer force of gravity.

When that didn’t work – and before he could be pummeled to death by his friend’s endlessly pumping legs – Tanjiro did the only thing left he could think of. He dug his fingers into Inosuke’s ribs.

Inosuke let out a startled yell and twisted as he ran, sending both of them to the ground in a heap. Before he could think twice, Tanjiro was on top of him, fingers dancing along his ribs and sides quickly but with a light, playful touch that merely kept his friend in snorting giggles – enough to keep him from taking off again easily.

“Take a break,” Tanjiro said now that he had his friend’s full attention. “You’re going to wear yourself out, and then you’ll be dead if we get called into battle.”

“Thohohose dehehehehemons cahahahan’t kill me!” Inosuke cackled out his defiant reply, squirming on the ground and only barely trying to fight Tanjiro off of him. “And neheheheheither will thihihihihis pathetic attehehehehempt!”

Tanjiro smiled and kept tickling, enjoying the sudden, fun turn this morning exercise had taken. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not trying to kill you, isn’t it?”

#fanfiction #tickle drabble #coffee shot #tickletober 2022 #tanjiro #inosuke #demon slayer #tickling #ticklish #tickle

[seleno-sofia]

Here are everyone’s fav occult gay boys (?). Imma be honest I love Good Omens so much because I just tickles that part of my brain that so needs this angel demon crap but also love moral grays and a need for random crap that it’s quite funny but is so endlessly amusing yet in place. Also I love how I unintentionally made Aziraphale have super fancy clothes compared to Crowley which I think goes to show what a bastard he can be xD Eitherway this is my first guanche in a while and god did I miss them QwQ So nice and opaque uwu Anywho, I need more fics but I also need one specific fic but we all now I’ll just end up writting it myself so >:’D Also NEIL. WHERE THE FUCK IS SEASON 2 NEIL????? /hl /hj

#guache #painting #fanart #good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #otp: ineffable #look at these trash boils #Oh he’s not my friend #we’ve never met before #look at his smirk #this man is proud of himself #good for him #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley #also i love these outfits???

[prometheanglory]

VY... My love for your OCs stops me from choosing only one of them, so may I ask for the route of any member of the ethereal 4 please ?

omg what if ….. marinyan route

(also 2 be clear on how this is gonna work, i’ll be assigning each oc their own lil plot concept. maybe i’ll spit out a few spoof otome gamecovers 4 them .)

methinks a route with a sporadic and snide little man makes for great fun 🤧 especially when it seems like he’s only capable of being disingenuous.

i don’t think he’s a particularly angsty route that’ll leave you broken, but i do think marian makes for a headache case in his own right?

it’s hard to get a bad end, but i think it’d be even harder to get the good ending…. namely because there’s no telling what tickles marians ego one day and what grates against him endlessly the next — and let’s not even get started on what it takes to actually make him think of you as ‘remarkable’.

HIS ROUTE ISN’T SO SERIOUS BUT AT THE SAME TIME…. THE ROMANCE ISN’T VERY TRADITIONAL? I FEEL LIKE ITS MORE OF A GAME OF CAT AND MOUSE? the end goal isn’t quite… as clear for his route (are u even dating? is this just belligerent romantic/sexual tension???? who knows. he wont elaborate), but you certainly do get to be involved with him :D

concept: married in mystery, bloody bride!

you wake up with a ring on your finger, but much more pressingly — there’s a sigil painted on your mirror, a suspiciously large gap in your memory, and a demon asleep on your floor!

you can’t remember anything. you can’t fathom a single thing, and you’ve come to find that your last memory was 3 years ago. the demon seems to know plenty of what’s happening though, and while he doesn’t appreciate your urgency or panic, he seems a little intent on trying to help you.

go on a surprise adventure through both the familiar and the unexpected with a stranger to uncover the truth of these odd happenings and how they all trace back to you… and that ring on your finger. what’s up with that?

well it turns out the ‘what’s up’ is that marian has bound himself to you so that he has a more reliable source of energy to leech off of, so he too can figure out where these sigils came from and why they’ve blocked off your memory. the ring seems to only be for formalities sake, but you’re free to try and take it off. only thing keeping you from doing that is… well, you can’t take it off or else you’re gonna take the brunt of these mysteriously appearing sigils and whatever curse they’re trying to accomplish. but, you’re free to choose whether or not you want to help him. it’s no skin off his back.

well ! you help. of course you’d help — what kind of person just takes this kind of thing sitting down? not you!

marian doesn’t mind the company, however there are a number of boundaries he’s set that you should be quite wary of, but some of them don’t sound quite like they’re for your benefit. it sounds more like he’s trying to keep something from you…? but that’s more of an inkling of suspicion. after all, you’ve never met this guy before. how are you supposed to know what’s real and what’s imagined.

but if you push forward, so will he! be mindful of marian’s minefield. push too hard or chase him too little and you might just find yourself kicked out of this game he’s made of trying to save his skin and save your life. but don’t be daunted by his flip-flopping ways! i’m sure you’ll be fine!

#me when i love ambiguous relationships #marian blede #otome spoof #twst oc #twisute oc #twst #answers #v speaks #[metalwork]

[valkyrie-of-the-rising-sun]

10, 17, and 23 for Hauyne and Orion?

10. What kind of jokes make them laugh? Hauyne: Fandom inside jokes. She does have a taste for dark humour as well, within reason that is.

Orion: They're easily tickled by a lot of things, but dark humour and morbid jokes tend to unsettle them.

17. Who are they soft for? Do they find being soft easy or difficult? Hauyne: Definitely Erin. She's the only person who could get Hauyne to show her soft and vulnerable side, since she struggles to lower her guard even amongst trusted friends.

Come to think about it, Erin is the only person who had seen most - if not all - of Hauyne's sides. Which is most likely why she's so comfortable around her, enough for her to drop the mask and be herself when it's just the two of them. Under all that proud and aloof warrior facade, is just a girl living in constant fear and endlessly tormented by her demons.

Orion: The younger League members, Lin and Victoria. They just have a soft spot for kids in general, especially troubled ones like Lin, and Victoria is kinda self-explanatory.

Unlike Hauyne, Orion is more comfortable with being vulnerable, although they still find it difficult to come to terms with the idea that it's okay for them to be selfish. They're so used to being the provider and caregiver that it just didn't occur to them that they deserve the same treatment as well.

23. What is your character’s favourite food and who cooks it best? Hauyne: Chicken noodle soup. Her favourite one is the one her grandfather made for her when she was recovering from one of her episodes. While she was able to replicate the recipe after he had passed away, it isn't the same anymore.

Orion: Fish head curry. It was one of their mother's specialties, so naturally their favourite is the kind prepared by her. Unfortunately, they weren't able to learn the recipe before she passed away.

#ask answers #tysm for the ask! #interceptor oc: hauyne #reborn oc: orion

[fixtionvixen]

Pages ruffle through the breeze as the wind tickles the edges of the book I've been trying to read. On a solitary day off, there's no other place to find a bookstore owner but buried in her own books, lost in another world. A world of intrigue and danger, romance and angst, fighting and friendships. But today, those things do not call to me like they normally do. My feet itch for something beyond, my brain refusing to settle for those on the pages. I yearn for something that isn't ordinary, something to distract my mind. And yet, I stay where I am. Page 174. Reading and re-reading the same paragraphs in the hopes it will quiet the noises in my skull. That it will keep the demons at bay, my mind it's own prison with rusted gates that do little to hold back the chaos. But I hold the key firmly, trying my best to not relinquish control. It's an endless battle and today, it's a war I am uncertain I will win.

Setting the book aside, I look out into the world I have surrounded myself with. The cobblestone driveway lays ahead of the porch stoop I sit on, frames by plants which are turning darker as summer has relinquished its hold on the world. Chimes buried within the orange leaf covered tree ring out as the squirrels along the branch scurry about in a mad chase. Cicadas sing their songs and the crickets join in to create a lullaby that would soothe anyone looking to escape the noise of the city. The dog lying at the foot of the steps sighs contentedly, creating the scene that was something I've gazed at longingly in my minds eye over the years. Home. Not a pit stop along the way, not a spare room while I struggled, not my parents couch when you hit rock bottom, nor my cousins futon when I wasn't ready to admit defeat. My own place. Somewhere I could drop the shackles of society, the pretense that everything would be okay, I didn't have to hide from how I felt or give up my time for something I did not care to do.

Life lately had seemed.... too loud. Questions went unanswered and I was endlessly on edge from overthinking the what ifs. My mind preyed upon my worries and made what should have been a relaxing day, instead one filled with anxiety and sadness. The season was changing into one that I loved and yet, instead of basking in the autumn winds or breathing in the cool air, I wanted to bury my head under a pile of blankets and wait until the world evened out and the mind chatter quieted to a tone I could compete with. But mental illness and the world wait for no one to continue on.

Reminding myself of this, I push the book aside and stood, heading towards my forest. The sleepy pup bounds after me and out into the green of the forest bed, flushing out rabbits from their hiding place. Wandering along trails that my bare feet have taken me down many times, leaves and twigs crunching as we both meander, I let my mind scramble through the knots it had weaved into my brain, trying to find some semblance of serenity in the mess. The concerns of surviving on whats in the bank account, the successes and failures that come with living, the anxieties of giving pieces of myself to those I love most and trusting them to not hurt me, the fear that comes with putting myself out there in the world.

Letting all my thoughts run wild, I find I can breathe easier in the trees surrounding me. I start to notice what my foggy brain wouldn't only moments earlier. I can distract my mind all i want with other people's adventures, I can try to find assurance from others, I can spend countless hours comparing my failures to others successes, but here... in the quiet of the forest, that's where I need to be. My life was not so volatile I need to hide, situations were not so horrendous there is no way out, my struggles were not so insurmountable. I just needed this. The leaves rustling around me in the breeze, the dirt under my bare feet, the dog at my side gazing lovingly at me, and the simple joy in living in what I dreamed would be my life.

I once sat and wished on every star, every candle, every turn of a necklace clasp that I would open my eyes and be in this forest. Would turn and see the lights of my own cottage twinkling through the trees. Would feel the soft fur of my pup beneath my fingers and know that wherever I led he would follow. And after all that time... I had it. It didn't make my problems disappear but, for a while, it made them easier. And in this moment, that is all I need.

#my own #manifesting #world mental health day #here is hoping your wishes come true #that your dreams are bigger than you can imagine #and that life will get easier to be a part of.

[duenadeel]

I’m Sorry Let’s Pretend I’m Healed B*tch

Unplugged to be deplunged uncanny pushed and yanked dragging with the upper chuck of embarrassment a cathedral theatre full of laughter manipulation attacks ;attacking me attacking my mind because you hate the way I don’t lie you lied to me spiritual demonization you and your crew plagued wishes cheap hexes for a quarter and dime you gave it so much time my arm turned my back twisted facing you smiling while you put the knife thru my gut. I tickled and laughed hit squads pursuing me still even with nothing I ate from plates of crumbs before your feasting awaited you wanted my fate the whole time. You was the snake the whole time. I can’t even cry when’s the last time? Numbing overindulging inability of grieving numbing revengeful pleadings fighting self releasing

rage…rage….RA-RAGE! SO MUCH FUCKING RAGE!

Fuck tension I wanted to rip the audacity out your spleen stab it to all of your arteries. deception paranoia paranoid and hungry you were after blood I wanted the best. Cult of vampires drained my energy fought sleep night after night time and time demon crawls. Suffocation repressed overly depressed negatively obsessed they will never pull me to the hell they dwell. Endlessly.

#mental health #writers on tumblr #songwriter #shadowheart #skinandbones #grunge #headache #my post