#but also to have your HALO shattered? like??? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ki-yomii · 3 months

Text

down on you | jjk

➥ pairing | jeon jungkook x f!reader ➥ word count | 4.5k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, pet names, mild praise kink, squirting, hair pulling, standing missionary, rough sex, porn w/ plot, mafia!jk, detective!reader, established relationship, mild angst, mild violence ➥ summary | It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all. ➥ notes | the mafia!jk au no one asked for aka an excuse to write smut w/ feeling lol.

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

On his knees staring down the barrel of a loaded gun with a mouthful of blood, he knows this is the end of the line. He’s going to die like a rat in the gutter - no mercy to be found, loopholes to exploit or bribes to be made.

This is the real deal, and there’s no coming back.

Judgement Day comes in the form of a man with dark eyes and a dangerous smirk: Golden, the deadliest guard dog of the underground.

Credited with dozens of hits, you won’t know he’s there until it’s too late. Trying to keep him pinned is like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands, or a whisper on the wind.

And you won’t know he’s coming until you feel the breath on the back of your neck, hear the crack of a bullet ringing in your ears.

Belonging to one of the most powerful men in the world: Kim Namjoon, he’s more war machine than man.

“Go ahead, do it!” He spits at Golden’s feet, a mess of blood and drool staining the crisp leather of his combat boots. “Killing me won’t change a goddamn thing.”

A coy smile tugs at Golden’s mouth, his grin all sharp teeth and violence. He stays where he stands, his silhouette haloed by distant streetlights.

Water laps at the docks, the tang of salt heavy in the mid-summer Seoul air. There’s no rush; they both know he’ll be dead and dumped just like all the rest of the garbage in this rotting city.

“Come on, you prick! Pull the fucking trigger already.”

Golden cocks his head, and hums in the back of his throat.

“Tch! I hope you’ve got a lot of bullets - we’re gonna knock the crown off Kim’s head one way or another.”

Golden thumbs at the safety of his gun, the barrel glinting through the shadows. “Ahh, is that what you think?” He shrugs, a lazy ripple of muscle. “Well, I have to say: I’d love to see you try.”

The night is shattered by the resounding crack of a gunshot and an echoing splash of something heavy dropping into the water below.

You climb out of the nondescript government-issue car. The faintest tremble of your fingers nearly gives you away but you’re able to reign in the impulse to smooth your hands over your clothes at the last second.

Showing weakness is the last thing you need to be doing right now.

Especially here.

Right in front of where you’ve parked - shoved between two looming apartment complexes - sits a quaint, vintage building. The rough brick face is at odds with the sleek surroundings, but tinted windows keep prying eyes at bay while the classy signing hanging above the door reads The Red Bullet written in caps.

If you didn’t know better, it would be hard to believe this otherwise mundane storefront is a cover for one of the most dangerous international organizations based out of South Korea.

Not only do they hold the keys to the kingdom, but their success is largely in part because they spearhead operations from government espionage all the way to simple blackmail.

Even though it’s been several months since you darkened its doorstep, the familiar sight is enough to steal the breath from your lungs. Send your heart galloping into a tailspin as your stomach swoops.

While time away helped clear your head of stolen kisses and promises whispered in dark rooms, it also drove the longing bone deep.

In those quiet moments to yourself, when you have nothing else to distract from how lonely you are, you miss this place like one misses a limb.

You didn’t realize how attached you were to these four walls until it was too late: the hazy air filled with whorls of smoke, the overhead lights that bathe everything in red, the plush chairs you spent many nights sprawled across, the glossy black stages.

You don’t know how, you don’t know when but at some point it (he) started feeling like home. A luxury you can’t afford. Not again. After all, if you give in, any progress you made outside of his gravitational pull will be for naught.

Which puts you in a dangerous position as you find yourself back where it began; feelings at war with duty, mind vs heart. Because even if it leads you to a place you could go a million years without ever seeing again, you have to follow the trail of bodies.

A bouncer grants you access, the heavy door slamming shut behind you like a death knell as he herds you towards the back of the club.

It’s outside of official operating hours but it’s no less busy inside, men and women alike in scattered conversation as you pass through.

“It’s nice to see you again,” the bouncer murmurs, chancing a quick glance at your profile. “Been a while.”

You swallow, gaze darting down to your shoes. “Ah - yeah… Got busy with work. It’s - it’s nice to see you too.”

The small talk fizzles out, a snuffed candle as you arrive at a cordoned off room, “Here we are. Mr Kim is already expecting you.”

Any further pleasantries grow stale on your tongue as you enter the private booth, fighting against the lump in your throat to manage a hoarse ‘thank you’.

And then you find yourself left alone with the man himself, Kim Namjoon. He’s as intimidating as you remember, lounging back into the leather booth with his ankles crossed.

A lukewarm smile stretches across his lips, the slightest hint of a dimple peeking out from the valley of his cheek. Standing at attention on either side of his reposing form are two massive bodyguards. Their hands rest on the butts of their guns, daring any who enter to try and make a move.

“It’s good to see you again. But I gotta ask - what’s the occasion, Detective?” Namjoon hums. “I thought we were past all this.” He waves a nebulous hand between your bodies. “After all, you’re practically family.”

You ignore the hidden barb with a wince. “Mr Kim, you know why I’m here.”

“I used to know why a long time ago.” A well-groomed brow raises, his gaze glacial as it spears you in place. “But now I’m not so sure.”

“Please, Mr Kim. I don’t want to make this more difficult than it is. I just need to know about the man they fished out of the harbor, and then I’ll be on my way. So… who was he?”

Namjoon scoffs. “What makes you think I know more than the police?”

There’s a flash of a smirk, barely noticed, before his face returns to its neutral expression. As calm and cool as a placid river. “A john’s a john. What I do want to know is why you care so much?”

The underlying question is clear; why are you really here?

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss such matters with civillians.”

“Oh? So I’m a civilian now.” His expression is not unlike the cat that caught the canary: vicious and delighting in the discomfort his evasions are causing. “Gotta say that’s a new one for me.”

Sighing in defeat, you say, “Alright, enough. I get it. I’m wasting my time with you. Let me ask this instead: where is he?”

“He doesn’t know any more about this than I do,” he says, waving a blase hand towards a door off to the left, “But if you insist, you can find him in the office. Oh, and Detective?”

“...Yes?”

“Take your time, I’ll be out on business all afternoon.”

With a curt nod, you flee the room amid low-throated chuckles and enter the office. Standing near the desk, his broad back turned towards the door, you find the man you simultaneously want to see the most and run from the fastest.

He turns around, the muscles of his back rippling with the movement. Your breath stutters in your chest, and you nearly swallow your tongue as your eyes trace over the cut of his body.

The moment your eyes meet, those many months spent cultivating time and distance turn to ash. You forgot how even the mere sight of him affects you, any resistance to his many charms virtually nonexistent as the world falls away.

Rich, coffee dark; his gaze sucks you in until it’s all you can do not to reach out, to brush your fingers over his edges and feel them soften beneath your palms.

Rocking back on your heels, you clear your throat and glance to the side as you remain standing in the entryway, more than a little off-kilter.

Coming back after so long apart, only to find him the same as the day you left… How do you reconcile everything that’s changed with everything that was?

“Well, hello there.” Jungkook croons, leaning his hip against the corner of the desk with a roll of his shoulders. His arms cross over the trunk of his chest, accentuating the bulk of his chest, the flex of inked bicep. “Long time no see.”

Shifting, you gulp. “Ah - yeah…”

The burn of his gaze - a palpable sensation prickling across your skin - tracks a path from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes as he gives you a thorough once-over.

“You’re looking good,” Jungkook hums in approval, “real good. I’ve missed those pretty eyes of yours.”

“You - you too.”

Your attention doesn’t know where to settle: drifting from the curve of his shoulders to the jut of his bloody knuckles, the tuck of his trim hips to the thick-soled combat boots.

Tiny hairs at the back of your neck stand on end, and your palms slick with sweat.

“I mean, you look… y’know, uh, good too.”

A flash of a crooked smirk, the raising of a pierced brow gets your blood pumping, your heart tattooing a rhythm against your ribs. Emboldens you to reach back with shaky fingers to turn the lock. The sound grates down your spine, bolts of anticipation slicing through you.

It was dumb to think coming here, seeing him again, would end any other way than his taste on your tongue and his cock in your cunt. Hope makes fools of us all.

Should’ve known better but you’d been hopeful those days were long behind you. Now you realize it was inevitable.

After all, Jungkook is magnetic.

The black hole at the center of your universe, consuming everything in its path until he’s what remains in your head, your heart. You’re helpless, ceaselessly drawn to him like a moth to flame.

And try as you might, you can’t say no to a face like that.

Never could, in fact.

Failure to extract yourself from his orbit during your not-relationship is nothing new. That doesn’t mean you can’t make it difficult.

After all, you still have some dignity intact.

So try, try, try again.

“Ahem.” You try to banish the heat from your cheeks, guiding the conversation into the correct territory. “I’m not here on a-a social call, Jeon. I need to know: were you the one that killed and dumped the john in the harbor?”

Stalking closer, a lazy jungle cat on the prowl, Jungkook crosses the distance between you. He only stops once your bodies brush with every labored inhale. Heat radiates from him, and you’re achingly aware of every point of contact.

The light scent of his cologne teases your nose, and his eyes - god, his eyes. They’re shaded and hungry, devouring your expression with single-minded possessiveness.

“What makes you think I know anything about that?”

“Jeon -- Jungkook.”

He hums.

Your heart thrums, pulse rushing hard through your head until you feel faint, blood surging the longer you stay in close contact. The shameful clench of your cunt makes your cheeks burn all the brighter.

The last time you were looking up at him like this, his hand was on your jaw while his cock thrust balls deep.

“C’mon, you know that isn’t going to work. This is me you’re talking to, not some rookie.”

“Mm,” he purrs, “it is you I’m talking to, isn’t it?”

You manage to bite back the groan but can’t stop your eyes from rolling even if there’s the slightest hint of a stutter when you reply, “Please, I just need to know if you killed him.”

Jungkook looms tall and proud, crowding closer. “And if I did, baby?” he asks.

Instinctively you back up, only to be followed step by step. A game of cat and mouse that finds you pinned against the wall before long. With nowhere to run, you watch, heart in your throat, as Jungkook dips his dark head.

His nose runs along the length of your neck, breath puffing across your sensitive skin as he inhales the pleasant scent of your perfume.

“I - I…”

“Would you see me in handcuffs?” His lips caress the underside of your jaw, a soft groan escaping him. “… C’mon, answer me. Would you?”

“I would - if I had to.”

As much as you wish that was true, you know in your heart of heart's you would do everything in your power to make sure that never happens.

No matter how much you like to think you’d do the right thing when push comes to shove, you’d choose him a thousand times over.

His eyes dance playfully. “Careful, I might like it.”

“I can’t say I’m surprised,” you say with a snort.

Jungkook chuckles low and warm, using the arm around your waist to tug you into the safety of his body. The softness of your breasts presses into the hard planes of his chest, your nipples pebbling through the thin cotton shirt you wear.

With a deep-throated groan, his hands encircle the curves of your hips as a thickly muscled thigh slots between yours.

An answering quiet sigh gets his blood pumping and his cock twitching.

“Mm, something tells me you’d enjoy it just as much, Detective.”

The use of your title is a rude awakening.

“Jungkook,” You warn, moving to push him away. Only once you start touching him, you can’t stop. His muscles flex beneath your curious fingertips. “We really shouldn’t.”

You’re sure if he could, Jungkook would spend days worshipping between your thighs, velvet heat wrapped around his tongue and hands in his hair as he brings you to peak again and again until you’re a sobbing, sopping, boneless mess beneath him.

“Come on, I know you want me - that you’ve missed me. I can see it in your eyes.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth, tongue flickering out for a brief taste before a rough thumb skates across your bottom lip, tugging down to expose your teeth, the glitter of your tongue as it darts out to flick over the pad of his finger..

“I’ve certainly missed you, baby. Want me to show you?”

Even though you refuse to admit anything out loud, you can’t help but angle your throat back and grind into his hips pressed against yours.

Jungkook tsks, “That’s alright. I’ll get that pretty mouth open one way or another.”

Before you can retort, a mouth swoops down to fuse with yours in a fierce, all-consuming kiss. A low, broken moan punches from your chest.

Reaching up, your fingers sink into the mane of dark hair that brushes the cut of Jungkook’s jaw. Soft, thick, and wavy in your grip; you tug at the roots.

Jungkook hisses.

Teeth nip at your lip, kittenish licks soothing away the string as blood bursts across your tongues. The thigh shoved between yours grinds up with every wet, sloppy pass of your lips.

Thick muscle spreads your pussy open through the thin slacks of your work uniform. Sparks of pleasure dance down your spine with every rock against your swollen clit.

“S-Shit!” Your shoulders curl in, a shudder jerking through you. “K-Kook, I… !”

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” Jungkook growls, rutting his cock against the jut of your hip. The wet patch you’re making on his jeans grows larger with every filthy grind. “You’ve been gone too fucking long. Never again, you hear me?”

You claw at his shoulders, stuttering out, “there’s noth-ing you can do t’stop me.”

“If you don’t come back to me,” his eyes are dark and stormy, voice whiskey rough, “I’ll find you.”

It’s not a threat - it’s a promise.

“Then make sure I never want to leave,” you challenge breathlessly, staring into his blown out pupils, “Make me want to stay.”

Above all else, you think.

The words are barely past your lips when Jungkook accepts your challenge with gusto (just like you knew he would). Without delay, he thumbs open the button on your pants.

Refusing to let you look away, Jungkook yanks them to your feet and swings you up into his arms one-handed. They hang from your ankle like a chain.

Your surprised squeak is quickly swallowed up by a moan when he settles you over the bulge in his pants, your cunt hovering over his erection.

The heat of his skin sinks through the thin cotton of your panties, so, so close to where you need him. Slick soaks into the fabric, and clings to your inner thighs.

Every shift is a smooth, sticky glide of folds that stirs, and stokes the ember of desire smoldering behind your navel.

“Kook,” you breathe. “Please.”

Your head rolls back, and you sag into his chest. Your hips twitch in pathetic little attempts, trying to get pressure where you need it. Having him hot and hard and all for you; any distance between you is suddenly unbearable.

He needs to spread you wide and stuff you full with every inch of his thick cock until he’s so deep you won’t be able to walk for days.

“Shh baby, I’ll give you what you want,” he says, gaze heavy and possessive. “I’m gonna ruin you so good, you’ll have no choice but to come back. You’re mine.”

“Says who?”

“Hmm. You don’t think you are?”

Nibbling on your ear, Jungkook slips a finger under the hem of your panties. He smirks when you keen, rubbing his knuckle up and down your sloppy folds with teasing pressure.

“How about I show you what your body already knows?”

Wasting no time, he lifts you off his cock, the scrap of cloth fluttering to the ground. His free hand dives between your bodies. Then comes the clink of a belt, the sound of a zipper pulling down.

Your heartbeat thunders in your ears, your body coiled with anticipation as your stomach swoops at the brush of his fingers along the underside of your thigh.

“Look so pretty like this, baby.” Jungkook twists his wrist, hips arching back. “And it’s all for me. Fuck, I can’t wait to get inside this pretty pussy.”

Any response dies on your tongue, brain short-circuiting as the slick, fat cockhead rubs along your slit. Pressing against your entrance the slightest bit before slipping up to nudge at your clit - coating himself up in your sticky juices.

The ultimate tease - something Jungkook’s always been overly fond of doing until you’re out of your mind with desperation.

“Please, please, please,” you chant, cheeks on fire and eyes half-lidded as you circle your hips. “Stop playing around. I want it - want you, Kook.”

“Oh, baby,” he smiles, ducking down to kiss your forehead. “You’ll take whatever I give you.”

You can’t stifle the broken sob, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. Liquid fire surges through your veins, a thousand bolts of lightening crackling beneath the surface of your skin. Your pussy is tender, swollen. Walls fluttering in time with your heartbeat.

“Ha, you’re so needy for me.”

Jungkook’s lips brush away the moisture around your eyes, his thumb drawing soothing circles into the base of your spine. All the while, his torturous grinding never ceases.

“Aren’t you?”

You croak, “I can’t – Kook, please. Anything, I’ll do anything you want just fuck me.”

The flash of his eyes is your only warning before he’s right there, your walls embracing the girth of his erection inch by inch. Every ridge, every jerk as he seats himself as deep inside your silken heat as he can is absolute heaven.

The stretch as you take him to the hilt sends you careening towards the edge, eyes rolling back and toes curling in your shoes.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit!” you whimper.

“Shit!” Jungkook grits his teeth, squeezing the base of his cock as you tighten around him. With every deep inhale, his pelvis brushes your swollen, needy clit. “Forgot how good you feel wrapped around my dick, baby.”

“Me too,” You gasp, tightening your legs around Jungkook’s hips.”Me too, Kook.”

Dropping his forehead to yours, he says gruffly, “‘m not gonna last long.”

Making a noise of acknowledgement, you wiggle your hips. Sinking your teeth into the side of Jungkook’s jaw, you bite and suck at his skin, wanting to leave a mark to remember you by. His reaction is instantaneous, releasing the grip on his shaft to grab a fist full of hair.

He yanks back.

The long, elegant line of your throat is exposed to his butterfly kisses and scolding love bites.

“Now you’ve really asked for it,” Jungkook huffs out with a dirty chuckle.

“Then give it to me.” You lick your puffy lips, looking up at him from beneath your lashes. “Show me who I belong to.”

The brewing hurricane in his eyes is unleashed. Wide palms and strong fingers grip your hips so tight you feel bones grind together. His stance widens, his unwavering gaze locking onto your face, brow pinched, and mouth slack.

His lip piercing glints in the light, his tongue sliding out to wet his bottom lip. Dark curls tussle about his head, a wild halo that sweeps down into the burning umber of his eyes.

Helpless, you succumb - enchanted by the darkness peering at you from behind those dangerous eyes. He’s ethereal; a siren song that threatens to drown you, swallow you whole.

You’d happily let him, you realize with a shiver.

It’s true, he owns you: blood, bones, and all.

“Hold on tight,” Jungkook says, hooking his hands under your bottom.

And then, he’s jackhammering into your cunt so hard and fast all you can do is hold on for the ride. Punch drunk and moaning as he manhandles you how he likes, spreads you wide and stuffs you full until you’re panting for breath and clinging to sanity by your fingernails.

“Fuck yes, that’s it. Look how well your pretty pussy always takes my fat cock.”

His low voice whispering filthy praises in your ear makes you whimper, whine, and writhe as the band of pleasure coiling tight in your belly comes close to snapping. It’s the fastest he’s ever fucked an orgasm out of you, and it feels so good you don’t even care.

The pace is brutal, slamming into you so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises on your hips come morning. But it’ll be so fucking worth it. You’re going to cum hard and long, you just know it.

About to melt as Jungkook fucks the slick out of you, groaning as you drip down the base of his cock, his balls - his very own pretty little mess.

“Yeah, you gonna cum, baby?” he laughs, pressing a sweaty kiss to the side of your face. “Can feel how - haaah shit - how tight you’re squeezing me.”

“Uh-huh,” you cry, holding onto the tops of his wide shoulders. Every thrust has his cockhead dragging over the spongy patch of your g-spot, sending fissions of pleasure rocketing through your nervous system. “So - so close, baby. Just a little more, I--”

Balancing yourself, you lift up only to slam back down, meeting Jungkook’s thrust with all the force of gravity. “Oh fuck, oh fuck!”

Crashing over you like a tsunami, your orgasm shoots through your limbs and zips down your spine. A warm rush of cum soaks Jungkook’s shaft, the wet and messy sound of your squirt splashing against the floor secondary to the cry that claws its way out of your throat.

“K-Kook!”

Jungkook grunts, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips as he helps you keep bouncing up and down on his erection. “Yeah, that’s it - keep going, baby. Wanna feel you keep cumming all over this cock.”

Aftershocks slice through you like lightning, tiny jolts of electricity. As you come down from your high, your gummy walls pulse, milking at Jungkook’s thick shaft.

He groans softly whenever your muscles tense, release; your body a worn-out rubber band as your breath stutters from you.

Then a hand pets down your flank, your skin shivering with hypersensitivity at the tender touch. “S’okay. Just breathe, baby.”

Peeling open your heavy eyes, you look up at his face. Take in the crinkle of his brow and the ravenous expression. Even floating on a sea of bliss, white noise fills your ears, you want more.

You slur, determined, “Kook, baby, please. Cum in me, want you s’bad.”

“Fuck! Can’t just say shit like that to me or I…” Jungkook bites down onto the tender crook of your neck, muffling his grunts in your flesh. “Shit - ’m so --”

You cry out, nails digging into the meat of his shoulders, “A-haah, K-Kook!”

Snapping his hips forward one last time, Jungkook grinds as deep as he can get and lets go. The fat head of his cock kisses your cervix, his length throbbing in time with his heartbeat as a rush of cum floods your insides.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, rutting once - twice into the cradle of your body, “take it like a good girl.”

He croons when you whine at the press of his pelvis against your oversensitive clit. Thready sparks of pain shoot down your legs that hang limply over his forearms. Every breath stutters from your lungs, slow and deep.

“No more, can’t - can’t…” Shifting, you arch your spine and burrow your head into his chest, nearly catatonic in his arms. “S’too much.”

“Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” Fingers brush over your closed eyelids, smoothing over the arch of your brow. With every kiss dropped to the top of your head, he mumbles in dulcet tones, “I really have missed you, you know.”

You mewl in response as strong fingers knead the backs of your thighs.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

“Oh,” you can’t muster up enough energy to say anything more, body tender and trembling with little aftershocks, “s’that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.” He chuckles. “You’re staying here - right where I want you.”

In lieu of a response, you pick your head up off the pillow of his chest and seek out his gaze. Liquid soft; he’s looking at you like you hung the world on a string.

“I’ve missed you too, Kook,” you say with a gentle smile.

You’ll allow yourself this moment of weakness when there’s no space between your bodies or hearts. Titles don’t matter much when he’s cradling you to his chest like a piece of precious china.

Between the two of us, you’re the one who hung the moon and stars, you think while combing back his sweaty bangs.

And I think I love you, you whisper voiceless against his lips.

#jeon jungkook x you #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook fic #bts fic #jungkook #bts jungkook

1K notes · View notes

lancermylove · 4 months

Text

MC is a What!? (HC)

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: DB with gn!Reader

Warning: None

Requested by: @smut-simp

Prompt: Guess What? I'm back. Ok, so i love mythical creatures (and you). But i wanted to ask for MC who is like a secret god/goddess. Lemme give you a description. MC had a terrible, no-good, very bad day. And they were in their room crying, so now they have a headache and its even worse bc the horns are hidden and straining against their head. so MC lets them out along with the wings bc their back hurts from being curled up for so many hours in a corner.) NOTE: Sorry if this is a long ask, i'm just so freaking eager. *Cries in simp* Also, i have like 3 more suggestions that i'm still thinking about, soooooo yeah I Love You SM <3 Hope You Have The Best Day Ever! :)

A/N: Soooo this was supposed to be a quick ask, and it turned into an HC. 😋 Awww thank you! 💖 I love mythical creatures too! I added the description you gave for the god/goddess appearance in the prologue. :3 Thank you! I hope you have a great day and HNY! I hope 2024 is the BESTEST year ever for you. 🤗

———————————————

Prologue:

This was your worst day in Devildom, and your breakdown was taking a toll on your mental health as well as your physical form. Not the form you showed others, but your true form - that of a god/goddess. You never told anyone this secret as you feared being seen as a fish out of water in Devildom.

When others looked at you, they saw a 'normal' human, but what exactly did you see when you looked at yourself in the mirror? Four large white wings with golden outlines; slightly glowing eyes the color of gold; two golden horns that curved from just above your ears and stood six inches above your head; a shiny white and gold striped halo balancing atop the horns; a third eye on your forehead with massive, long eyelashes that was white and glowed; a huge deep gold tattoo on your stomach in the shape of a person sitting crisscrossed, using magic, and the three realms.

You were able to hide all of this from the others, but the bad day had drawn tears to your eyes. In turn, you had a headache, which kept getting worse due to the strain of the horns on your head. However, the amount of magic it was taking you to hide your form took the highest toll on you. For a while, you stared at your tears that were made of gold (literally). Was it worth it to continue tormenting yourself to hide your true form? Shaking your head, you shattered the magic around you, and instantly, your deity form was on display.

Unfortunately for you, he had learned you were having a bad day and entered your room. He generally knocked, but today, he assumed you would tell him to leave you alone.

----

Lucifer froze. The amount of divine energy flowing from you made it difficult for him to breathe.

A while back, he had suspected that you were hiding something from them but wasn't expecting you to be a god/goddess. Regardless, Lucifer remained unfazed by your appearance and was more concerned with your sadness.

He forced himself to come closer to you, even though his body told him not to. Wordlessly, the first brother sat on the edge of your bed and gently stroked your head, avoiding touching your horns.

"It hurts. My horns hurt!"

Lucifer knew from personal experience how annoying horns could be and how heavy wings could feel at times. The Avatar of Pride didn't ask you questions, nor was in interested in learning anything about you at that moment. His energy was forced on trying to calm you down and provide you with a soothing touch.

However, one question nagged Lucifer's mind: why was a deity in Devildom? If Lucifer didn't trust you, he would have thought you were there on a mission to study the demons as the heavens were planning a war against Devildom.

His jaw dropped. Where was (y/n), and who was this creature? Why was there such a strong divine aura flowing from it? Wait, was that creature you? You were a god/goddess?

Mammon's head spun, but hearing your anguished sobs tore at his heart. He wanted to bombard you with questions but knew this was not the right time.

It took him a little struggle to get closer to you as your divinity was too dizzying for him. However, Mammon wanted nothing more than to help you calm down.

When he saw your gold tears, the Avatar of Greed's eyes widened. He had a moment of weakness where he considered taking your tears and selling them to make A LOT of dough but had to remind himself that this was neither the place nor the time to think about money. That didn't mean he wasn't planning to take your 'tears' afterward with your permission, of course.

Mammon sat by your side and held onto your hand as he gently patted your shoulders. His eyes wandered around to take in your majestic form.

Maybe you had your reasons to hide the truth from them. However, he hoped you would tell him the truth once you calmed down.

Eh? EHHHH? You were a god/goddess all along? Why didn't you tell them? He thought you were a normie human all along. If he knew you were a deity that looked like they were straight out of an anime, Levi wouldn't have given you such a hard time.

He was lost in thoughts until he heard your whimpers. His shoulders slumped. Though, he was a little uncomfortable as he didn't know how to make you feel better. Regardless, Levi still pushed past the invisible barrier around you that attempted to push him away.

Levi hesitated to touch you because he didn't know if your light would have a negative effect on him. After a while of thinking, he sighed and gently stroked your cheeks. That was when he saw your gold tears. Talk about your tears being priceless.

Since he didn't know what to say, Levi stayed silent, gently stroking your cheek, head, and arm and even taking a chance at caressing your wings. They were even softer than Lucifer's wings in the Celestial Realm.

Unlike some of his brothers, Levi didn't consider you would be there to spy on them or have any ill-intention toward them. You were still (y/n) to him - a friend, crush, and sweet normie, not a force of divinity.

Satan wondered if he was in the presence of a god/goddess and took a moment to analyze your aura. Once he confirmed, the Avatar of Wrath felt breathless. He knew being around your divine form for a prolonged period would have a negative effect on him. However, he couldn't bring himself to walk away and leave you in tears.

The Avatar of Wrath took a deep breath and forced himself to get closer to you. His eyes scanned each and every detail on your body, but he was most fascinated with the tattoos of the three realms. Why would a deity have a tattoo of all three realms? Did you have a special power, or were you an overseer of all three realms? Someone who transgressed ordinary gods/goddesses.

He had to force himself to swallow his curiosity as your well-being and happiness came before. So, Satan made a mental note of all his questions and sat down beside you. His touch was gentle but still hesitant.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Those were the only words he said. If you chose to tell him, Satan paid close attention to your words; if you chose to remain silent, he didn't force you to say anything.

Once you were in a better state of mind, Satan planned to get answers to his questions and hoped you would tell him the entire truth.

As someone who admired beauty above all, Asmo was speechless. He never thought he would see a being more beautiful than him, but you proved him wrong.

Asmo was so enamored by your appearance that, for a while, he zoned out and didn't hear your sobs or see your tears. His only focus was on taking in every inch of your beautiful appearance. He only snapped out when you let out a small cry of pain.

At first, he didn't want to come closer, knowing his dark aura would not mix well with your light one, but he couldn't bear to see you in pain.

Little by little, he eventually came closer to you and tried to talk to you. Asmo wanted to know why you were in pain and crying, among many other things. The Avatar of Lust knew he couldn't stay in your presence for long without being affected, so he tried his best to learn the reason for your sadness and find a solution.

Seeing your appearance brought back memories of the Celestial Realm, which made him realize something. How had he not heard about a being like you before? Had Michael and, maybe, Lucifer known of your existence and hid it from others, or did they not know about you?

Beel was surprised by your appearance, but unlike his brothers, he didn't think about who you were or why you hid your appearance or divine aura.

His focus was only on your tears. Why were you crying, and what could he do to make you feel better? Beel tanked his way closer to you without worrying about the effects of your divinity on his body or mind.

"What's wrong, (y/n)? Did someone do something to hurt you?" He patiently waited for your answer. His eyes wandered to your wings, and had you not been sad, Beel would have smiled slightly. Your wings slightly reminded him of Lilith and her wish to have beautiful wings. He couldn't help but think that if she was alive, she would have loved this form of yours.

Once you gathered enough strength to tell Beel you were having a bad day, he tried his best to help you by talking to you, giving you hugs, and sharing his food. If you tell him someone caused that sadness, Beel will 'take care' of the person for you right in front of you so that you can smile. Whatever it takes, he will do.

Belphie had to force himself to stay grounded as his first instinct was to run out of your room. Compared to his brothers, your aura had a crushing effect on him. He wanted to walk away, but seeing the way you looked at him, tugged at his heart.

The Avatar of Sloth wondered just how much magic you had to be able to constantly conceal your presence from everyone. He understood you were a god/goddess, but even deities have limits. Belphie slowly got closer to you but didn't dare to touch you. Once you concealed your divinity, he planned to make it up to you by hugging you and not letting go.

"What's wrong, (y/n)?" It was evident he was concerned about you.

"Bad day...my wings...and horns feel...heavy..."

He could completely understand your problem, as his horns were the heaviest out of his brothers. At times, he purposely avoided his demon form just so he didn't have to deal with the burdens of the heavy horns.

Knowing he couldn't help you much, Belphie considered calling Solomon over to try to alleviate your pain. But would the sorcerer be able to help? Moreover, would he attempt to use you for his own benefit or to help humanity?

———————————————

➣ Obey Me Masterlist: [1][2][3] ➣ Main Masterlist

➣ Buy me a Ko-fi? ➣ Commission: Open ➣ HC/Scenario Requests: Closed || Quick Ask Requests: Closed || GIF Requests: Closed

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs

199 notes · View notes

whumpshaped · 5 months

Note

Nonhuman whumpee that presents, was raised as a human, and fully believes themselves to be one, finding out that they aren’t human in whumper’s care.

Whumper knows already and inflicts enough pain for the nonhuman features to pop out. In this case a demigod with an extra set of glowy arms and markings? Whumper makes sure to massage any new part of whumpee due to the humiliating sensitivity they have, and Whumpee gets depersonalization from the whole ordeal.

tw nonhuman whumpee, nonhuman whumper, depersonalisation, past murder (of parents), captivity, intimate whumper

Whumpee stared at the thing in the mirror, taking in the furrowed brows and the glowing golden eyes full of confusion; it was strangely similar to how they felt. The creature in the mirror was very good at imitating them.

They shuddered when Whumper gently took one of the thing’s extra arms, they shuddered like it was theirs, because they were also very good at imitating the creature. They couldn’t stop. They couldn’t stop feeling it, their awfully non-human body betraying their every memory and concept of self.

What were they?

That was them, wasn’t it? The thing in the mirror? But what was that?

“Slowly coming to terms with it?” Whumper asked lovingly, as though they hadn’t just shattered Whumpee’s entire world. They dragged their fingers down the length of their arm, tracing the markings, and Whumpee’s eyes fluttered closed for a moment against their will. “My sweet angel. My divine little pet. Aren’t you glad I showed you your true self?”

“What am I?” they whispered, still fixated on the mirror. So long as it was just in the mirror, it wasn’t as real as looking down and seeing it in person.

“The child of a long gone god; one that saw it fit to mingle with humans.”

Whumpee let out a whimper as their captor dug their finger into the stiff tissue, thoroughly massaging out the tension. “My parents aren’t gods,” they said softly. “I… I can’t go back to them like this.”

“You can’t.”

“Please… d-do something. Reverse it.”

Whumper smiled. “This is who you are, sweetheart. And that,” they pointed at their own reflection, “is who you belong to.”

Whumpee wanted to argue. They wanted to say well, if they were the child of a god, then surely, they too were an all-powerful being. Powerful enough to reverse this, and powerful enough to fight off a cocky mortal feeding them lies. But as soon as they opened their mouth, they saw it.

It was but a flash. A flash of a halo. A flash of too many eyes to count. A creature too terrifying to behold.

They swallowed, tearing their gaze away from the mirror and turning to face Whumper, relieved to find them in the form they had gotten used to. “What are you?” they asked, and their voice came out shakier than they intended.

“Many cultures, many names… Who keeps track?” They continued working life into Whumpee’s numb limbs like nothing had happened, still smiling.

“You’re a god,” they breathed. “Are you–”

“I am the one who killed them.” They glanced up, eerie smile widening just a fraction. “So I could have you all to myself.”

#asks #whump #whump drabble #captivity #intimate whumper #nonhuman whumpee #nonhuman whumper #depersonalisation #past murder

125 notes · View notes

kaeyx · 8 months

Text

Yandere!Chuuya drabble

Warnings: kidnapping

Notes: Reader is gender neutral. Proof of concept more than anything else, a sort of overview of what I think it would be like for Reader to live with him long term. Feel free to come ask about the concept, or offer input of your own!

He never lays a hand on you.

His home is gorgeous, a penthouse far larger than you could ever imagine, somehow managing to look honey despite the fact that it looks like something out of a catalogue. Trinkets from all over the world and books of poetry line the walls of his room, and the sheets of his king size bed often have vibrant colours or nice patterns. The shackle sort of shatters that coziness though. No matter how hard you tug, how much you scream and scrabble at the manacle around your ankle until your skin bleeds, it doesn't move an inch.

You look up from your folded hands, from the solved Rubik's cube in your lap, out the floor to ceiling windows and over the city. You'd never imagined you'd see the inside of an apartment like this, much less live in it. You'd never imagined you'd do anything to get out. The chain is infuriatingly, mockingly long, long enough that you can go to the ensuite bathroom and even open the door and step into the hall if he doesn't lock the door. The shackle around your ankle is also loose -not enough to let you slip your foot out though. It doesn't stop you from struggling and tugging at it though, even though he always looks disheartened when he sees the long scratches and reddened skin around your ankle. He always offers to clean you up, if he notices. Looks at you with the eyes of a man defeated and asks to help you in a tone so much softer than what he was known for. You refuse him each time, sometimes with spite, sometimes just retreating into yourself. He never pushes, never forces you.

Chuuya always looks a little sad now, whenever he slides the deadbolt and opens the door to his room to bring you food or gifts, or a new book. You don't know why you're in his room, or why he doesn't take advantage of the situation and shares the bed. His fiery halo of hair seems duller somehow, his strides less quick and self assured than you remember from before. It seems like an age now, when you knew him as a loud, intense, deliberate person; a man who liked his expensive wine and expensive clothes and his family and job as an executive. There's always a spark missing in his eyes now, a quirk missing in his brow. He used to nod or smile at you as he walked by even though you weren't his subordinate, and now he can barely look you in the eye.

You don't even ask for explanations anymore, you don't plead for him to let you go. You did, once. In the beginning. When you still had hope that this was all a horrible prank or a nightmare. It had shifted to rage eventually, and some vindictive, animal part of you had taken savage joy in seeing the hurt in his eyes when you yelled at him and berated him, and how all his usual bright emotions would fall away and leave a man who was carefully quiet and solemn, never rising to your baits, never joking or complimenting or attempting to reach out to you. Eventually you ran out of hope though, and with no hope you also ran out of motivation. You couldn't escape, you couldn't fight him, you had nobody to come looking for you. He wasn't letting you go.

The view of Yokohama is breathtaking, buildings and sea glittering under the sun, completely out of reach. Your hands reach for the cube and, with a sigh, you start to shuffle it again.

#chuuya.bsd #yandere chuuya #chuuya drabbles #chuuya x reader #yandere chuuya x reader #chuuya x y/n

139 notes · View notes

gattnk · 3 months

Text

For every shadow there's a light source. For Malachia, there's Reina.

The superior villain pair of the show and the highlight of the first season, everyone! I would've kept them secret for a bit longer but my darling @angelsfriendsass did one of their famous crossover pieces showcasing my (until now) server-exclusive Reina so... I guess my hands are tied :P Here's how the magic happened:

The first thing I did when I set myself to revamp the Angel's Friends plot, was work on Reina and Malachia's role in the story. They're the driving force behind the plot in both the series and the comic, which meant it was crucial to determine what their story would be this time around: what would I keep, what would I change, and what would be tossed out entirely.

I looked into Igor Chimisso's work for Malachia and Reina to better understand his design work (he was a lead character designer for the series). I also looked into their theme songs for inspiration. My research brought me to four key words: light, shadows, opposites, and neutrality. Reina would be searing light, and Malachia would be creeping shadows. The "opposites" and "neutrality" concepts would tie them together and unify their designs.

I love the idea of protagonists seeing themselves mirrored by their antagonists in some way. Reina used to be an angel in the show and Malachia used to be a devil in the comics, so I cemented this into my own canon; they would mirror Raf and Sulfus quite naturally this way.

Malachia's new personality and role as a "creeping shadow" made me choose a variety of greys for him. Being a former devil, his focus on ambiguity and "neutrality" would fit well with him. Reina instead has more polarizing tones, dealing in extremes like the "searing light" she embodies: being a former angel, her line of thought would be more black and white, and this would be reflected in her dress with "opposite" hues.

You can't have a villain duo without complementary concepts, and what better way to represent complementary concepts than with complementary colors? I gave Reina yellow eyes and Malachia purple ones, and included "hints" of each other by adding shades of these colors on their counterpart.

Malachia has ochre accents, a yellowed shirt and bronze skin, very straightforward. Reina has dark magenta accents and her iconic blue hair to tie her to his counterpart. I considered white hair like her young self in the series at first, but it clashed with the dress; I took a page from her adult design and kept her silver bangs to frame her face instead.

Reina's shattered halo pieces are arranged over her head like a crown, a tongue-in-cheek reference to her name ("queen" in spanish) and her position of leadership in Limbo. Malachia instead used his shattered horns to fashion himself a diapason, like the one in the comics. The function of this tool is very different in my rewrite, but I'll keep the specifics to myself for now ;P

Also, I wasn't entirely sure where to include this, but remember how angels are tied to circles and devils to triangles? Reina, Malachia and other neutrals will be tied to a half circle on top of a triangle, kinda like a diamond with a round top. See how many of those you can spot around!

It'll be a long time before they show up in my fic proper, but I still encourage you to keep your eyes open just in case while you read I'll Fly With You. After all, Raf and Sulfus aren't particularly careful or subtle, so who knows what's lurking around the Golden School these days...

#my art tag #angel's friends #angels friends #IFWY #character redesign #reina #malachia

69 notes · View notes

treasureofmammon · 5 months

Note

Random mammon headcannon i want to share

He gets bad nightmares about you dying so sometimes he wakes up in a cold sweat and crying. He normally cleans himself up as he sprints to your room in the middle of the night, needing to know if your ok.

Once he sees you sleeping and alive, he fixes your blanket and sits by your bed, resting his head on the bed as he stares at you. he eventually falls asleep looking at you, you have found mammon sleeping next to your bed multiple times but you he never tells you the real reason he was there

@ezracorner1

First off, I'm sorry. Honestly, I'm still figuring out how Tumblr works and realized late how to see Asks, and then I took my time to respond to you. I hope you can forgive me. I'm on my 20s, but I act like an old woman, apparently. Lol.

I took the liberty to make a short story about thiiiiissss!!!! After all, my sweet demons were on a war, they have some unresolved things to talk about and heal. They are obviously overprotective; so with a sweet little and weak lamb like us, they probably go over the top. I LOVE THE IDEA! Although I HATE the fact they probably live with PTSD, hence where the nightmares come from 😪

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Warnings: Flashbacks and topics related to war and death. Hints to mental illnesses. Obvious attraction, but not an established relationship (yet). Angst at the beginning, but also, tenderness and care. I took some creative liberties since I haven't read some parts of the story (struggling to get UR cards), so some details might change from the OG storyline. Finally, I didn't check the syntaxes of the paragraphs so much. Sorry if some stuff doesn't make a lot of sense.

*I apologize in advance for what y'all might read, I absolutely love to write, but I'm not such a good writer. Lol*

[Note: Mammon x Gn!Neutral reader. Spoilers ahead- English is not my first language, so there might be orthographic and syntax errors - The following characters belong to the mobile game "Obey me: shall we date" and are owned by Solmare Corporation. This is a mere work of fan-fiction. I took some creative liberty].

✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛✨️💛

Nightmares and dreams

Mammon looks at his right, familiar faces, that he once called "siblings", shattering his other loved ones forever. Their comrades and family's expressions suddenly realize that their existence, one that could be eternal, are brought to an abrupt end at that exact moment. And some of them, many even, look at Mammon with despair, lost and afraid of their own death.

His almost extinct battalion, who he commanded, conformed by his little brothers and sisters that he once witnessed brought to life in a blow of Father's breath, forever gone. Some of them he watched grow up, hugged, played, spoiled, and then... trained. Not anymore. No clue will lay in history that they existed, no irrefutable proof of who they were.

Mammon's eyes widen in horror, mouth open in surprise.

He then looks around and catches in a glimpse a spear that falls graceful and fairly as a punisher of the traitors, hovering over Asmodeus, unerring.

—No. Not Asmodeus, not him!—

Mammon runs faster than the light and slides himself with his younger brother in his arms, successfully saving him from the imminent death. Mammon sighs and thinks it's fine now, but immediately, a penetrating scream is heard, and Beel and Belphie shred tears. The time freezes: all of them stop, every single one of the angels stops, the arrows fall to the green grass, and a new flurry of arrows never comes.

—Lilith... No!—.

Lucifer takes her in his arms, but the ground immediately opens, and both fall. Lucifer's wings turn black, and horns come out of his head as he descends in rapid speed; his halo is lost on the battlefield until Michael takes it with him as a prize for nothing.

Mammon follows them without a second thought, loyal as always, worried like the second brother he is, launching himself to a fall to a who-knows-where place.

As he falls, flames consume his body, his wings burn down to his core, his white robe dissipates, his halo turns in ashes and his head throbs in pain while he feels two horns that grow from it. But he doesn't lose sight of Lucifer and of Lilith's face. Except now is not Lilith's is yours.

Mammon loses his mind: the abyss he falls in turns pitch black, swallowing Lucifer and Lilith in his arms. He has a sinking feeling in his gut and screams, not scared of his own life, but scared of Lucifer's, Lilith's, and yours until his slim body finally bursts against the ground. The room is still completely dark. Shyly, he stands up, —Lucifer? Lilith?—, he calls.

Suddenly, a reflector light turns on. You are right below it, lighted up like a star. The yellowish rays touch your silhouette gracefully as if you were an angel yourself. Beautiful. Candid. Endearing.

—MC? —

You turn around to look at him and smile tenderly, like you usually do. His heart melts. For a short moment, his worries dissappear and he smiles back. He walks to you, enchanted by your bright soul.

Until a pair of claws dig in your back. Your scream never heard. In a gasp, you fall to the ground, bloody, and a set of glowing purple eyes withdrawn into the emptiness of the never-ending darkness of the room.

—NO!— Mammon screams and rushes to you, your face now lifeless, while blood scapes your body. He cries your name, but there's no response. Suddenly, a familiar voice chants: —This is your fault! She died because of you!—. A new figure emerges from the blackness.

—Lucifer?—

—No—, finally revealing his identity, —I'm you—. Mammon's own face responds back.

Mammon's eyes open wide suddenly. Awake, gasping and panting, scared, drowned in his own sweat. He sits in his bed and takes his forehead in his hands. A nightmare.

Mammon feels his heart pace altered. And he tries to calm down.

—It was just a nightmare... right? It felt too damn real. They're here, they're just asleep, they ain't death, right?—

Rationally, Mammon knows he had a bad dream, but a part of him drags him to unreality, so he jumps out of bed, leaves his room, and makes his way to yours. On the short path, he takes his shirt off and notices that even his torso is dripping in sweat, but he manages to clean his face with his wet shirt.

Slowly and carefully, he opens the door of your room, still gasping for air, now in a much more stable breathing pace. When the door is open enough, he peeks inside your room, there, you lay in bed tranquil, your face expression at peace, and your chest slowly moving up and down, asleep.

—Thanks Lilith...—, he whispers and lets himself in your room, knowing that once again, as usual after dreaming your passing, he might be violating your space and the sanctity of your placid sleep. But, he does it anyway. You're his human, after all.

Mammon stands for a short while, looking at you, making sure you're real and safe. He fixes your blanket, covering you well. Then, quietly, he drags your desk's chair to your bed's side and sits, watching you dream your own dreams, snoring softly, comfortable, and even happy.

—I love ya—, he whispers and observes you until his eyelids can't stay open, his head resting right next to your hand.

When you wake up in the middle of the night, Mammon is lying right next to you, uncomfortable. You sigh, thinking that it's happening again.

Gently, you reach to his hand, and he wakes up in a jump, confused and scared.

—MC?—

This time, you don't ask a thing. You just pull his hand to you, and he gets the hint, half asleep, not sure if you inviting him to share the bed is another dream that feels too real again or reality itself.

Mammon nuzzles against your chest, and you throw your arms around him after covering him up with your blanket, too; then, you kiss his temple, trying to convey all your emotions in one little peck.

—I have no idea why you do this— you admit, —but I don't mind sharing my bed with you, Mammon; after all, I love you—.

Your love confession, unheard. For now, that's okay, as long as you can hold your best friend and crush on your arms as if you were lovers already.

80 notes · View notes

saintmurd0ck · 7 months

Note

Congratulations, rhi!! 🥳

86th st

Prompt: “why are you really here? to mock me? to... make me hate you more?” “no. none of that. i came to be a friend, because it really looks like you need one right now.”

Character: Matt Murdock

Also, I don't mind if a confession or smut is involved somehow 🤣

glass ceiling

join my sleepover | main masterlist

pairing: matt murdock x vigilante!reader

warnings: canon typical injuries, brief mention of religion, angst, tinyyyyy confession

a/n: ok nonnie i couldn't fit the smut in cause matty low-key friendzones you in this prompt butttttt enjoy the mini confession 💗 thank you so much for participating !! (ps this is low-key unedited but hope you enjoy nevertheless)

There’s a coppery tang to the air as you drift in and out of consciousness, akin to a wave receding upon a shore. Your eyes shutter open, unable to take stock of exactly what you’ve injured, but at least you have a faint idea of where you are, and how you ended up in this position.

“Ow,” you wince, twisting onto your side, desperately trying to staunch the gash above your eyebrow. The pain in your side has faded to a dull throb, but a quick glance at the blood pooling beneath tells you the cut is anything but superficial.

It’s a balmy night, but the wind dries the rivulets of sweat on your skin in cold increments. The cement rooftop is even more frigid underneath your spent body, seemingly siphoning your energy with every sawed breath. Anything remaining of your once ironclad resolve ebbs to a bare whisper.

The constant ringing in your ears blots out your efforts in concentration, rendering your attempts to move, to sit up, utterly futile. You know your neurons stopped firing the second your assailant decided that this was the end, except the asshole didn’t even have the decency to finish the job. To make sure you wouldn’t come after him.

It was your luck he was cocky enough to leave you up here.

You wiggle your toes, but even that action makes every muscle and bone in your body scream for help. The cracks in your defense widen to a chasm, and so you resort to basics. To your default programming.

“Please,” you grit, jerking your chin up to the light-polluted sky, “make it quick.”

You don’t know who you’re aiming your prayer towards, and you’re foolish enough to believe that someone would care enough to listen, to send an aide, but you hope nevertheless that it catches the attention of some benevolent force, deity or not.

The peals of a police siren shatters your fantasy, making you whip your head to the side. Instead, it speeds off into the distance, carrying with it any last fragments of survival.

This is it, you think. This is how I go.

That’s not what happens, though.

As you settle into the ground, your fingers coming away sticky from the laceration in your side, you feel the hairs on the back of your neck stick up. A warning, maybe, but you’re too fatigued to tell. Still, it alerts you, causing your arduous eyes to widen.

Your head smacks the concrete listlessly, because all you see is the skyline of the city stabbing into the indigo sky, the lights haloing your vision. Jutting out amongst the landscape are the spires of a church, lackluster compared to the twinkling highrises. Your mouth contorts into a grimace at the irony it presents.

The lack of discovery doesn’t explain why goosebumps continue to prickle your skin, or why you hear the rustle of fabric carried with the wind — the sound too soft to notice to the untrained, unobservant ear.

There. A glimmer of movement catches your eye, a crimson shadow dancing in and out of your sight.

Out of the vestiges of darkness, a saviour emerges.

Him.

Matt bounds towards you, closing the distance in four short strides. He falls to his knees beside you, hands scrambling to triage your body.

His expression goes grim, sweat forming a thin sheen along the exposed part of his face as he speaks. “This isn’t good.”

Your weak chuckle turns into a wet rasp. “Tell me the other guy got off worse, at least.”

Matt pauses for a moment, his tongue flicking out at the corner of his mouth. His voice dips to a murmur. “He’ll never make that mistake again.”

You nod slowly, training your gaze on Matt as he takes off his helmet, setting it down on the concrete before putting pressure on the wound in your side. White hot pain blossoms throughout your nerve endings, exploding behind your eyes, but he ignores any markers of your discomfort.

Gritting your teeth, you lift one of your arms to push the lock of hair that’s fallen across his forehead. There’s an inexplicable familiarity about the gesture, even though you haven’t seen him in months. Even though your final encounter was precisely that: your last.

“I thought you said I had to get out of your way, Matt.”

“I know,” he says, his face irresolute.

“Then why are you really here?” Your mouth twists into a scowl as you shrug his hands away, blinking away the tears welling in your eyes. “To mock me, for coming back to Hell’s Kitchen? To… make me hate you more?”

Something between disconcertion and indignation crosses his face. “What? No. None of that.” He wrestles you back down, compressing his hand over the wound again. “I came to be a friend. Because it really looks like you need one right now.”

You hold onto his words, acquiescing his comfort, his company, but all that comes out is an incoherently grumbled response, one that pulses in time with your darkening vision. It’s as if the second he showed up, your body has finally relinquished to the tranquility of rest, knowing that despite your past, Matt is someone to be trusted.

Agony radiates throughout your body as he hoists you up over his shoulder, your heart fluttering at the gentleness of his touches, the soft cadence of his voice. You barely comprehend what he’s saying, but you cling onto “apartment” and “I’ll look after you”, like a beacon of hope. God-sent, if you consider your prayers answered.

There’s something else you catch as you’re dragged under. He’s talking to you, soothing you, settling you. It feels like he’s explaining something to you, but whether it’s for him to get it off his chest, or simply to lull you to sleep is indistinguishable. Yet, your attempt continues to listen.

“I never wanted you in my way,” he starts, slowly becoming a jumble of noise, “because I was falling in love with you.”

But you’re too tired to contest him. To ask if he’s confessing that because you’re on your deathbed, or if they’re pointless words, said just to appease.

“I heard when you called,” he finishes. “I always do.”

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #matt murdock fanfic #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #daredevil fanfic #all aboard the saintmurd0ck express #x reader #rhi writes 💻

100 notes · View notes

cemeterything · 1 year

Note

we want to know about your near death experiences, please tell us of your near death experiences

erm. gonna put them under a cut in case it's too much for anyone lol (since it's kinda personal, i'm not going to pull my punches in describing how i felt, and i know not everyone's comfortable with discussions of death and near-death)

- took nearly 3 days to be born because my mom refused a cesarean and was nearly a month premature. don't know if this one counts because i was a baby but apparently they were pretty worried about my chances of survival towards the end and when i was born i was sickly and in a lot of pain for months.

- fell down the stairs multiple times when i was a kid, suffered several concussions and fractures and developed vertigo that gave me a phobia of heights i eventually grew out of. again not sure if this counts since i barely remember it but i do remember the feeling of cracking my head once and boy it's not fun. it's like cracking an egg but the egg is your skull. also remember having a lot of dreams of jumping off the top of the stairs and my consciousness separating from my body and watching it fall because of this.

- nearly drowned because i swam too far out to sea on holiday and got caught up in a massive tidal wave (it was the baltic sea in poland, on a very windy day, and i was 8 years old and an idiot). i'd just accepted that i was going to die stuck in this current i couldn't escape and given up on being afraid, embracing the cold dark tidal embrace of death, when the wave very gently set me down in the shallows and i was so at peace that i almost forgot to sit up and breathe. left a big impression in me. i did not tell my parents what happened because i was okay with it and didn't want to upset them or deal with them fussing over me or giving me hell for taking stupid risks when i didn't need it.

- got hit by a car on my bike and flipped over the hood. was fine except for bruises and scrapes but while in the air briefly freaked out and thought i could see a halo of fire around the driver's head (probably the sun shining through the rear window).

- nearly died of dehydration while infected with a very nasty bout of flu that kept me in bed for 2 months straight. i passed out on the floor of my kitchen while trying to lift a cup to pour myself a drink and would have probably at the very least ended up with severe complications if my cat hadn't wailed over my body until my mom woke up and found me lying there. while passed out i had this horrible nightmare that i was god reincarnated in a mortal body and got really upset because i didn't want to be responsible for the entirety of humanity because it was too much and i was only 15. was extremely relieved when my mom revived me and explained that i was just really fucking sick. ended up in hospital with an iv in my arm to prevent my body from shutting down on itself until the flu burned out enough for my own organs to stop fighting me.

- tombstoned off the lighthouse in the bay with some sort of friends and very fucking narrowly missed a shelf of rock that would have shattered me to pieces if i hadn't twisted out of the way moments earlier. as it rushed towards me i very much saw my life up to that point flash before my eyes and was really disappointed by how little i'd done with it. didn't actually do much about it for a while though because i was a depressed unmedicated teenager in a bad living situation. pretty sure that kid would be amazed by how far i've come since then though.

- pretty sure i only survived a bus crash because moments before it happened i felt this urge to stand up and did. if i hadn't my head would have gone through this metal bar on top of the seats and my neck probably would have been broken.

- got lost in a woodland area by google maps once and got so dehydrated from the heat and blood loss (due to trying to cut through thorn bushes when i got desperate enough to get scared) that i started hallucinating this shimmery figure i couldn't look at directly following me and chasing me every time i started to give up (somehow i just knew that letting them touch me would be very bad, but they didn't feel malevolent? i was scared but i didn't get the impression that they wanted to hurt me, just that it would be a consequence of letting them touch me). got rescued because i screamed so loud that some passing hikers heard and went in and pulled me out of there. again not sure if this one counts as near death but i was wandering in there for hours and felt like i was going to die.

#death #injury #unreality #<- for discussion of hallucinations #drowning mention #car crash mention #might delete this idk if im comfortable with sharing it but we shall see lol

435 notes · View notes

bakuliwrites · 7 months

Text

Video Game Fanfiction Table of Contents

Disclaimer: 18+, Minors DNI!!!!!!

Baldur's Gate 3

Just to Be Held (M): Astarion x Tav, His shoulders slump as he releases a heavy sigh. He’s been worn down by your patience, worn down by years of keeping everything to himself. Here you are, offering up companionship without any expectation. Here you are, sitting in front of him, telling him that you actually, for some gods’ forsaken reason, like spending time with him and you’re not expecting any sort of compensation from him. So why is he trying so desperately to push you away? Astarion and Tav share a quiet, peaceful moment together along their journey. Astarion learns that he is valued and loved. Tumblr, AO3

The Elder Scrolls

Devotion (18+): Cicero x Listener, He worships her, every piece of her. All of his Listener must be worshipped, as ordained. Cicero, sweet Cicero, eager to please. Eager to serve. His lips on hers, his hands roving, searching, exploring. Venerating. He dies inside her, and it is glorious. He would die a thousand times in her, as many times as she wanted. Immolating in her light over and over and over again. Cicero is unsure of this new Listener, but his feelings are muddled and confusing. What will happen when the Listener is forced to choose to take or spare his life? Tumblr, AO3.

Legend of Zelda

Ebb and Flow (18+): Prince Sidon x Reader, “I will not accept that all we’re meant to be are star-crossed lovers,” Sidon states passionately, his tone filled with a steady resolve, “I cannot accept it. Was it not here that I pledged myself to you? And you to me? Was it not here that we promised our hearts to one another? Aren’t we more than just crossing tides?” Sidon is given earth shattering news. His duty as a Zora Prince outweighs all else. But how can he accept that when his love for you is so deep? Tumblr, AO3.

Stardew Valley

Love Letters (18+): Elliott x Reader, My Muse! You inspire in me such vivid dreams that when I wake to find my bed empty, I despair! I ache for you, body and soul. How I long to return to you, scoop you up in my arms, and ravish you from evening until dawn (Beyond dawn! For dawn does not limit my undying love, my eternal passion for you). Though weary from this whirlwind tour, I am never too weary to show you the depths of my adoration for you. I will return to you early next week, and I am beside myself with excitement. Elliott returns home from his book tour and the Farmer has a sultry surprise for him. Tumblr, AO3.

Dark Souls

Lunar Halo (18+): Gwyndolin x OC, Gods do not require witnesses. So in the sanctity of the Holy Church of Anor Londo, Gwyndolin weds a mortal woman, a marriage that takes place with sightless statues and eyeless stained glass figures for guests. Veiled by cloth woven of moonlight, Gwyndolin guides his Beloved Star to the altar. Her robes are redolent of the night that enshrouds the earth, glimmering diamonds and sweeping swathes of indigo pooling around her feet as she glides up the aisle. Iridescent moonstone enamels her hand and with the promise of fealty, of love for eternity, the Dark Sun is wed. And a mortal has been anointed his wife. A tale of how the Dark Sun came to love a woman born of the Dark Soul. AO3

Fire Emblem

Restless (18+): Xander x F!Reader, As leader of the combined Hoshidan and Nohrian armies, you find yourself growing restless one night, plagued with troubling thoughts. You decide some fresh air and quiet reflection under the stars might do you some good; but, you run into Xander, also lost in thought, and decide to spend some time together. AO3

Slip Away (18+): Xander x Gender-Neutral Reader, Xander finds himself unable to unwind at his birthday party, until a certain someone whisks him away. Tumblr, AO3

To Walk a Path of Light (M): Jeritza von Hrym x GN!Byleth, Jeritza’s desire for Byleth was sparked long before the goddess had even conceived of either of their forms. Their fates have always been intertwined... Long after the war has ended, Jeritza seeks out a familiar face, while the Death Knight seeks a battle. Tumblr, AO3

Gentle (18+): Jeritza Von Hrym x OC, "She is soft. And in her softness, she dissolves whatever sharpness, whatever edge I have. In perfumed sheets and gilded sunlight, I am, for a moment, vulnerable. My gentility clambers out from where it's been buried deep for so many years. The Death Knight dies in her embrace, and from him blooms a new creature." Jeritza finds himself drawn to one of Garreg Mach's newest professors. Tumblr: Chapter 1, AO3

85 notes · View notes

wanderingblindly · 4 months

Note

hi liquid!! suzzzzuka here, on anon bc sideblog functionalities suck lmao.

☰ for the ask game? with let’s say… ybmctg & enemies to lovers?? <3

suzzzzuka darling!!!! hello!!!!! ((also can i just say i was so excited when i saw u were on tumblr after i read your landoscar office AU oh my god))

This is a CHALLENGE but I'm into it, let's go!!!

☰ send a fic and an unrelated trope and I’ll remix it

I have no idea what this is, but I wrote a thousand words of something!! It's almost, in a weird way, a preface to YBMCTG?

Concept: Oscar fucked up their first meeting when he started working at the bar; Lando's held a one-sided grudge ever since, and Oscar has no idea why his coworker hates him so much.

Jenson hadn't warned him about this.

Admittedly, he's not entirely sure what Jenson could have said. 'The talent's hot, by the way. Be cool 'bout it, yeah?' wouldn't have prepared him for this. 'This' being the man sitting dead center at his bar, an aura of otherworldliness emanating from him like a halo. He’s not like anything Oscar’s seen before – not in the streets of his suburban hometown, not in the ungodly boredom of his seminars. He’s something that can only exist here, in the spaces drenched in alcohol and debauchery.

Oscar’s gaze quickly flicks down to his shoulders, his chest, hardly covered in anything more than fishnets.

The man’s eyes are icy in their intensity, fixated on Oscar's hands as he grips the necks of a couple beers between his fingers, popping the caps efficiently. Before Oscar can open his mouth to ask what he's drinking tonight, he beats him to it.

"Archers and lemonade, pleeeeease." Oscar's eyes are glued to his lips, stretching into a lazy smile as he leans over the bar. The glossy shine of his lipstick looks dangerous in the dark bar, beckoning to him like a siren's song.

He's quiet for just a beat too long, brain running in every direction besides the sorry excuse for a mixed drink on his to-do list. Oscar moves quickly to compensate, the pours brief and easy.

"I see you've met our star of the night." Jenson smiles as he slides next to him, grabbing the drink out of Oscar's hand before he can place it in front of him. The musician makes a noise of offense, flashing Oscar a look that makes his stomach churn. He doesn’t know what to do with this, with black-lined eyes clearly asking him for something as his boss sits right there. Another drink? Telling Jenson off?

“So you’re in the band?” Oscar finally manages to say something, keeping an ear out for his response as a man flags him down for another round of shots.

“Lead singer, at your service.” He does a faux salute, Oscar notices the broad span of his palm with entirely neutral feelings.

Oscar slides him another archers and lemonade, hopeful that Jenson is adequately distracted by Sebastian to keep away. “What kind of music? You look very…” Oscar wracks his brain for any band to reference, realizing he’s accidentally put himself on the spot. “KISS.” He hopes they're still relevant to anyone besides his dad.

The singer’s eyes darken as the track shifts, Oscar’s sentence exposed in the moment of dead air.

“Thanks for this,” He hops to his feet, tone flatter and mesmerizing lips tighter than when this all started. Sebastian looks over with a raised brow at the sudden movement. As Oscar opens his mouth to reply, the musician reaches out with a steady head and places his fingers on top of the glass, eyes trained on Oscar’s face.

And pushes.

“Oops.” He faux-winces as the drink spills across the bar, splashing Oscar’s shirt in its force – he jumps for a rag instinctively, grabbing the glass before it can roll and shatter. “Sorry ‘bout that.”

Someone needs another mezcal old fashioned, someone’s drunkenly calling for sex on the beach, Sebastian is looking at him with a look he doesn’t understand –

And the musician is gone.

—

“I’m gonna go talk to him,” Jenson whispers into Sebastian’s ear, stopped in his tracks by a deceptively strong grasp on his thigh.

“No, you won’t.” Sebastian smiles, the one that sends a shiver down Jenson’s spine – trouble. “We’ll see what happens.”

—

Maybe this job isn’t working out for him. His bosses are fine, if not a little odd, and the crowds are vaguely well-behaved. Surely it’s no worse than any other bar in London, definitely better than the proper dives closer to campus.

The main problem is right in front of him, unavoidably sitting in the center of his bar. Again.

“What d’you mean y’don’t know how to make a hitman?” Lando asks, the heavy black around his eyes making him look vicious in the low, shifting lights. It’s the same conversation they had last week, the week before – Lando asking for a drink Oscar’s pretty positive doesn’t even exist with the confidence of a seasoned mixologist.

“Tell me what’s in it, and I got it.” Oscar replies, sparing him a glance as he dumps a few glasses into the dishwasher. His glare makes his stomach twist painfully, like being flayed and gutted by someone seeking vengeance – not someone well-acquainted with delicacy.

He rolls his eyes and yells towards Sebastian, half occupied with whatever concoction Jenson is creating between their two drinks. “Ya gotta hire someone more comp…” He furrows his brows, “good at the job, Seb.”

“He is perfectly competent,” Sebastian calls back, reaching out to pat Oscar’s arm gently.

Ignoring the sting of his invisible wounds, Oscar moves down to figure out what the bickering gaggle of French speakers need.

—

Can someone be beautiful because they’re mean? Or is it always in spite of it?

Oscar’s eyes, against his better judgment, gravitate towards the stage. But perhaps that’s just inevitable, eyes following Lando when he’s steps above everyone else, bearing down on them with the sheer force of his presence.

His voice, usually spitting something acidic and pointed at him from across the bar, is raw – vulnerable – as he grips the microphone with both hands. They envelop it, smothering it, as his lips press against it and he croons out the opening to a ballad.

Goosebumps break out across his skin as the bass creeps in, lifting Lando’s voice up like a prayer over the crowd.

The lights, flashing their usual pattern of red blue red blue, reflect against the summer-bleached gold in his unruly curls – another halo.

—

“KISS doesn’t do it like that, do they?” Lando says, rough voice almost haughty as he sits down in his seat – black shirt completely unbuttoned, chest glistening with sweat and metal.

He puts a glass of water in front of Lando immediately, dropping in a black straw. “Uh, I guess?” Oscar replies, not entirely sure where Lando’s going with this. But he’s being less abrasive than usual, the glare in his eyes a bit less pointed. “Don’t really know KISS all that well, mate.”

Lando stares at him, narrowed eyes blowing wide. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Oscar pauses, hands freezing around the martini shaker he’d grabbed for the girl to Lando’s left. “No?”

“You don’t know KISS.” He doesn’t say it as a question. Like there’s some connection Oscar isn’t making, some red thread on a corkboard he can’t connect, Oscar looks at him in confusion.

“...No?” Oscar’s stopped moving all together now, other patrons temporarily forgotten as he watches the range of expressions dance across Lando’s face. Surprise, maybe? Something like shock. “Why?”

“I… hate them.” Lando says simply – if not a little absentmindedly. “Sorry about, um. Well.” He puts down his glass, hand visibly shaking; before Oscar can ask if he’s ok, ask what he’s even talking about, Lando stumbles off his barstool and paces over towards Sebastian.

He watches as Sebastian laughs, clapping Lando on the shoulder and waving cheerily towards the bar. Oscar flashes a weak wave back, uncertain, before noticing that Lando’s looking over as well – his face is red. Not just from the lights. But his cheeks, down his neck, the exposed planes of his chest, they’re red.

Oscar flushes, too.

Maybe if he’s sorry…

#I didn't even edit this idk what it is #man i should write a real enemies to lovers one day huh #you bring me closer to god #landoscar #ask me :)

32 notes · View notes

eldritch-spouse · 10 months

Note

Pinnie I hope done you haven't done this already but if you have, please ignore!

I read your post on the demon triplets with an incredibly oblivious S/O and I just NEED to know how that would go down with Santi, Belo and Patches.

Because they could literally tell me they wanna fuck (even though Belo and Patches would never say it directly) and I would like them or whatever and still be like "OH you're hilarious. Anyways..." Because I am unable to differentiate between a friend joking about that or being dead serious AND ITS THE SAME FOR YOUR OCS (especially Santi I would cackle in his face I need this man so pent up he just takes action)

Santi has dealt with many people who weren't always too suave with their mannerisms. People who didn't want to read between the lines, or couldn't, and he's never had trouble being direct. If Santi loves you, he will tell you that to your face eventually. If Santi wants to fuck you and and his "come hithers" aren't really registering, then he'll just say it too. No shame. Having you respond as if he were joking is beffudling, he may even think you're mockingly rejecting him for a second. Fortunately, he doesn't have to go too far to mend this, or let his frustration make him act out. He'll simply pick a moment where you're aroused, and mention it. You're wet love, he can smell it. What's more, you're wet for him. He'll say it again. He wants to fuck you. Right there. Nothing in his face hints that it's a joke. And then, in that moment where it seems as if things are sinking in for you, he tells you he loves you. Drops those bombs on you.

Belo will be suffering in silence for the majority of time. This will heavily delay most of his confessions, as the power can eventually start to think that you know what he's saying. You know what he means, you just don't accept him. You're trying to gently let him down in your own way, which is very benevolent, but also very embarrassing... But then, in a last ditch attempt, he gets on his knees and professes undying loyalty, endless reverence, eternal servitude, his body is yours, his mind, his soul- ... And you??? Just think he's practicing aimless poetry??? He wants to die right there. So, he shifts his focus. He loves you. Do you love him? He would give his body to you at a moment's notice. Do you want it? If you give a joking answer to those questions, Belo is going to tear his own halo off.

Patches knows better than to get in his own head about it. You are oblivious, he can tell. Wherein he'd usually spend time scheming about important things, he's not spending that time brainstorming about the most sincere and non-humorous displays of love he could do for you. He needs to know how to snap you out of the assumption he's some joker. Do you not know him?? Do you think he's the type to just joke about wanting to fuck you? Wanting to be with you? Sigh. In the end, after a whole lot of searching, making shitty deals, and getting into perilous situations, he manages to get an ancient artifact belonging to seraphim. When someone is in love and looks at their infatuation, it lights up in a bright, almost blinding white. He explains this to you as he holds the priceless amulet and it glows bright enough to make your eyes water (a little too much brightness, shattering the stone within it slightly). Please let this one work, he doesn't know what else to do.

#Santi oc #Belo oc #Patches oc

81 notes · View notes

ashersanity · 5 months

Note

WAIT WAIT WAIT WAIT HOLD UP. REWIND. JOHAN IS IN THE ASYLUM?? AND WHITNEY'S THE REASON???? TELL ME MORE, ASHER. TELL ME MORE. THAT INFO IS NOT ENOUGH I NEED TO KNOW MORE. WHAT DID JOHAN DO? OR WHAT DID WHITNEY DO? WHAT WAS THE ACCIDENT? *SLAMS TABLE* EXPLAIN - DEGENERATE ANON >:)

MY DEAR DEGENERATE ANON, HOW I LOVE YOU SO VERY MUCH FOR THIS ASK. FUCK, ASKING ABOUT MY PC’S AND LORES IS THE WAY TO BECOME MY FAVORITE IN AN INSTANT. The ultimate question to Johan’s backstory.. Tragic, really. I’d do an entire story if I could, but unfortunately you only get a shitty load of rambles stuck together to form a vague idea. Have to deal with other requests too. :(

[Unlocking Johan, the disgraced, lore.]

cw! I’d put a very specific content warning in this one though it’d spoil the entire thing so, I’m just putting non-con. expect the absolute worst. please scroll if uninterested, thanks.

So, for a bit of context on Johan’s backstory. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he previously once was an Angel, had the Angel transformation, the one that’s such a pain to manage due to your purity stats constantly having to be checked.

‘Course, it’s no problem for him, he was easily able to keep it all high-up till midnight, his virginity intact, his life was perfect save for a few annoying molesters here and there. Other than that, he could be called by the temple as the perfect vessel, one who’s sure to bring on good things, a high-ranking initiate of the temple and a model student to the school. Even saving his precious virginity for his beloved, Sydney.

Well, that is what was expected of him, not what his future had in store for him. Not what Whitney intended at least.

Assuming you’re a fellow Whitney fucker, I can only think that you also got that one scene where the bully corners PC at the school gates as always, demanding them to come with him as he drags them to an alleyway and orders them to strip. Gets ‘em a collar and starts leading them around naked, only to be brought to an owner with a dog or a dog person depending on your settings.

This was no different, Johan having no choice but to follow Whitney’s orders as he’s a pacifist himself and prefers not to choose violence, unless pushed to the limit. So he goes along with it up until the very end, stripping himself bare like it was nothing and letting himself be collared up by the bully. He’s used to it at this point, having gone through many torments, every possible shit that Whitney throws at him, he’ll just sustain it and move on.

Yeah, if only.

The sick grin on Whitney’s face once they arrive face to face with a man and a.. dog? What’s the catch here? Johan’s not stupid though, no, he immediately gets it and freezes up, dread sinking into his stomach at the realization.

“You don’t mean to..?”

“ ‘Course, I do. Now get to it, slut.”

No matter how much he squirms, struggles and fights back, there really is no use when you’re up against an entire gang, Whitney’s cronies holding him down, the bully himself, the man and even.. that fucking dog, mounting him. It felt disgusting, getting sniffed by a beast, hungry and panting, humping at his thigh like a desperate animal needing to breed or to be bred.

Think you know where this is going at this point..

Won’t go into details since it’s pretty sickening, but that dog took his virginity in the worst of manners, sunk down on his virgin cock, pristine and untainted. All the while, Whitney and his friends, laughing loudly, snickering and shoving each other as they film the entire thing. It was gross, disgusting. There’s not too many words Johan can possibly use in this situation, other than the fact that he lost his virginity whether wanted or unwanted.

And you know what happens when an angel loses their virginity.. Beautiful pearly wings that matches Johan’s snowy white hair, feathers withering away and turning into dusk, growing darker. Bright halo above his head, breaking and shattering, tainted and corrupted forevermore. He had saved all of this for Sydney and what he gets in return is.. is this fucking dog.

So not only did he give his first time to a literal dog, the whole scene got on tape and sold off to other students at school, the entire town now knowing how he lost it. Got sent to the fucking asylum too. Why, you may ask?

Next day, completely lost it, trauma bar maxed out and everything, reaching for Whitney the second he saw that fucker in the hallways and it turned into a full-on brawl, well, more like a one-sided massacres with how he had him on the ground. Gave him a black eye, split lip and maybe broke his jaw too before swiftly getting pulled off and brought to the nurse for check-up and then, to the hospital for the doctor to check on him.

Resulted in the situation that he is now, determined to be too ‘crazy’ to be roaming around freely and so here he is, at the asylum. Trapped and stuck with no way out, not to mention there’s that weird fucking doctor.. Harper? who won’t stop molesting him. Yes, that’s right, he is still very conscious when ingesting the mysterious pills, feeling every little touches the man leaves behind on his body.

Not to mention, how the transformation didn’t go as planned. Y’know how you’re supposed to turn into a demon if you’re a fallen angel? Didn’t happen, instead bringing onto another bizarre.. sequence. That’s a thing for another time though.

So yeah, once he gets out of that damn place, he is going to kill Whitney.

The only question left is if Asher will let him or not.

#yeah #sorry for going on a big ramble there #hope it answers some of your question #I would put the BIG warning in there but it’d be spoiling the entire thing #crazy #man I would go crazy too if whitney did that to me #get em boy #dol #degrees of lewdity #dol pc #johan the disgraced #unlocking some pc lore #whitney the bully #sydney the faithful #asher the disturbed #degenerate anon #my beloved #asher gets asks

34 notes · View notes

aipilosse · 4 months

Note

For the kiss ask - 48, because the world is ending. Choose one - Melkor/Mairon at the War of Wrath (predictably, but I love them, your honor) or Melkor/Turin at the Dagor Dagorath (because the world is indeed ending).

More importantly, welcome back! Writing will always be here when you feel like it and we will always cheer you on ❤️

Thank you so much <3 It's been nice getting back to writing (let's hope the juice carries me through MSV!)

I am going to attempt Melkor/Túrin -- a pairing I have never considered before but is fascinating.

~~~~~~~

"The sun will descend in a fiery blaze one last time, and the moon will fall also, casting the world into darkness once again."

The children gathered around Andreth's feet huddle closer together, eyes round, despite the familiarity of the tale.

"Then the Hero shall awaken."

"Who's the Hero?" Celepharn asks, right on cue.

"The Hero is a Man, one of our own kin. He is tall, with dark hair and grey eyes, just like you!" Here she nudges the littlest one, who widens her characteristically grey eyes theatrically. "He wields a dark sword, and he has been sleeping a very long time."

But we haven't met him yet, Andreth thinks, suppressing a shiver as the discomfiting tendrils of prophecy reawaken in her memory.

She continues, "The hooded Lord of Doom wakes the Hero, for his time has come. The earth is shaking, the waters turn to cloud, but the Hero is without fear.

"He walks to their meeting place, an old land that was once green, was then covered by the sea, and has now risen once again.

"There, the Nameless meets him." Andreth pauses for dramatic effect. "But he is dark no longer, for what is darkness in a world without sunlight? Now he is fair, fair as he appeared to our forefathers, with his tales of life beyond measure. Fair as he appeared when he wounded us of old." Her familiar certainty, and her old grief rise in her throat. It's not fair. She looks down at her hands, knitting needles clutched in their wrinkled grasp.

"Does he look like an Elf?" Damiel asks, tugging at Andreth's skirt.

The storytelling spirit rushes back to Andreth. "Oh, far more beautiful than any elf. He is tall, with hair like the fallen sun that surrounds him as a halo. And his eyes, his eyes are piercing like swords."

"Sounds like an Elf," Damiel grumbles, and Andreth shoots her a withering look for her sass.

"The Hero meets the Nameless there on that ancient land. But he does not unsheathe his sword, not yet. First he takes the measure of the Nameless one, and sees that they are matched.

"Then he asks, 'Hast thou come to take back thine curse?'

"Then the Nameless one will raise his hand, black no longer, to the Hero's face. 'Doomed One,' he will say, 'I have waited long for this moment. I have shaped thee and set thee on this path. I curse thee no longer.' Then the Nameless one will bend and kiss the Hero, removing a curse that has bound the Hero for long ages."

"Eeeww," Celepharn says, dramatically falling over, due to apparent disgust.

"Shut up!" Damiel smacks her brother. "They have to kiss, because then they have to fight."

"Quite right," Andreth says. She's not sure why this is so, but it is; it must end first in a kiss, then in a battle. "The Hero kisses the Nameless, and the bonds of Time are shattered." What exactly this means is also unclear, but she could feel it in her vision.

"Then the Hero steps back and draws his sword at last. 'Nameless,' he cries, 'let us make an end of it!'"

"And then they fight!" Celepharn says, leaping to his feet, drawing his imaginary sword.

"Show us the fight!" Andreth says, welcoming the occasion for the children to work off some of their energy. She resumes her knitting as another child takes on the part of the Nameless, with an equally invisible two-handed sword, and watches as the children play fight, dramatic sound effects included.

What does it mean, she thinks, and will I ever find out? She knows in her heart she won't; her job is to pass the prophecy on, not to understand.

#Andreth #Turin/Morgoth #Turin #Morgoth

22 notes · View notes

gothfoxgirlboy · 2 years

Text

The endless battle between heaven and hell raged on. However that didn't matter much to the people trapped in purgatory.

Angels preferred to stay in heaven and demons preferred to fight in hell. However, purgatory was usually a temporary afterlife for those who switched sides in the war.

Yet even they were recruiting. Few souls stayed long in purgatory but each one was helpful.

You were trapped in purgatory, wandering alone, when she first found you. A purified demoness, crests and tattoos glow golden, sharp teeth peek through an innocent smile.

She beckons you, you feel your mind fogging up as succubus magic tempts you. Her hands run over your body, producing a gentle heat.

She tempts you to join the heavens, you can smell her desires, pure loving sexuality. You feel your body start to change, wings sprouting from your back and a halo forming over your head.

Her fingers bring you pleasure as her pussy drips from how horny she is.

Behind her you suddenly see a pair of onyx wings, they rip the succubus away. Eyes that devour light around them and horns that look like shards of a halo rammed into their head, a fallen angel.

She pushes you to your knees, she tells you that salvation is in your hands. She doesn't tempt you, unless you consider her musky, erect cock to be temptation.

It sways in front of you as she tells you to save yourself and join the armies of hell. To worship the devil as your saviour. To allow her to corrupt you.

Her cock was tempting, you give it a kiss. You feel your halo cracking, your wings fade to a darker color.

Then you feel hands between your legs once again, they magically increase your desire but you can feel the good intentions.

As you start to suck the fallen angel's cock you feel a tongue against your ass, rimming you expertly. You can feel magic entering both sides of your body.

Corruption from an angel, purification from a demon.

The two magics react poorly to say the least. Your halo explodes the fragments staying in a halo shape rather than becoming horns. Your wings gain a pattern of light devouring onyx and glowing gold.

The clash of energy spreads a violent heat through your body, holy light burns succubus crests across your skin, tattooing you with marks of pleasure and erogenous zones.

Demonic energy glows in your eyes. Your teeth become sharp and your tongue grows longer.

Suddenly, another clash, your seals are filled in with demonic energy, your eyes glow with holy light. You feel divine.

Another clash, the pattern on your wings swaps colors. You feel demonic.

The clashes continue, your body changing rapidly from demon to angel, purified to corrupted, heaven to hell.

Your mind shatters and reforms with each clash as the natures' of the two beings try and take control. You drool a glowing liquid, it releases pink fumes when it lands.

Another clash of magic, you ride it like a wave, it transforms you to your ideal form as it blows through you. It reaches your extremities before imploding inside of you.

You push the demoness away from you and you throw the angel to the ground. You feel far more powerful than those two, like Ying and Yang the two magics have completed eachother.

You sit down on the angel's cock, taking it to the base, you grab the demoness by the legs lifting her until you're nose deep into her pussy and licking her deeper than she ever had been before. You feel your magic entering them, transforming them like it transformed you.

Please check out my Patreon, I put a lot of effort into my writing and I appreciate any money I can get from it. Also remember to tribute @kitsunes-shrine

#the catboy author #nsft txt #sexy hexing #corruption #purification kink

274 notes · View notes

pilot-boi · 1 year

Note

Can you pretty please write Ruby having to tell Ren and Nora why Jaune isn't with em after coming back?

(Get ready for pain y'all. Also included Oscar, because he deserves it.)

The journey back to Remnant is not pleasant, and Ruby would not recommend it.

Sure, she’s had her fair share of de-materialization, probably more than most people due to the nature of her Semblance. But this is a new flavor of awful.

She feels like she’s being squeezed down a very thin tube, the pressure crushing all the air out of her lungs. Darkness presses in on her eyes like a weight, and after the sensory overload of the Ever After her head pounds from the deafening silence and blackness.

Just when she’s sure she’s going to suffocate, the pressure releases. Light and sound come rushing back. And Ruby falls in a shaking heap in a dune of sand.

For a split second she’s horrified. Her stretched thin hope takes another blow as her exhausted mind is convinced that she’s back on the beach. They’re never going to make it out of here.

At least Jaune won’t be alone.

Ruby coughs out a lungful of sand and the spell is broken. Precious oxygen fills her brain with thoughts. The sand isn’t gold enough, the sky isn’t blue enough. There is only one sun shining down and that gods damned tree is nowhere in sight.

Just the forever rolling dunes of the Vacuo desert.

She smiles weakly. “We made it…”

And her head thuds into the ground as her second interdimensional travel in so many days takes its toll.

“Holy shit, Ruby!” A familiar and welcome voice reaches her, bubblegum pink. The sound of shifting sand accompanies rapid footsteps. “Ren, get over here! I found Ruby!!”

She should respond, probably. “Mmmphhh.” Yes, great job, Ruby. Perfectly articulate.

“Nonono shhh shh,” Nora coos, Ruby’s brain catching up enough to identify the voice. “You don’t need to talk, I’ve gotcha.” Her body is rolled over, her head cradled in Nora’s lap.

Ruby’s eyes crack open, and the blur of orange above her eventually resolves into Nora’s smiling, exhausted face. “Heyyyy... You’re fine, you’re safe.” The sky behind her is dark, the familiar shattered moon creating a halo of glow through her friend’s orange hair. Nora turns to holler over her shoulder. “REN!!!”

“What?” Ren’s distant voice sounds from over a dune.

“Get your ass over here!!”

“I’m helping Sun with Yang!”

Ruby’s eyes fly open, though she isn’t exactly sure when they closed. Where the heck is the rest of her team? “Yang?” she slurs adrenaline fighting dizziness as she attempts to struggle upright. “Where’s-”

“She’s fine, so’s Weiss and Blake,” Nora reassures her. “Here lemme just-” One arm slides under Ruby’s legs and the other nestles her head against Nora’s shoulder. “Don’t want you hurting yourself,” Nora explains as she lifts Ruby and begins trotting off towards Ren’s voice.

It feels like a lifetime ago that Nora was the one being carried, but it can’t have been more than a few days. Gods, how much time has passed for team ALPN while RWBY has been trapped in the Ever After?

Nora explains about Sun finding Blake first when he was on patrol. Neptune found Weiss while his partner was calling for assistance. “We got here just as they started digging Yang out of the sand,” Nora says. She sounds exhausted, and now just because she’s carrying Ruby. “I found you, and here we are.”

“They’re okay?” Ruby asks, thankful for the strength returning to her voice.

“Yeah, they’re all fine. Yang’s still half buried, but she keeps asking about Blake so we’re taking that as a good sign.” Nora snorts. “You should see Weiss. Covered in sand.” Ruby watches as her smile fades away. “I just sort of hoped that if you guys were back then maybe-”

“Oof!” Nora’s words are cut off as Ruby’s vision fills with fluffy brown hair and Oscar Pine envelops them both in an awkward yet crushing hug.

“We thought you all died,” he sobs into her shoulder. Ruby distantly realizes she’s shaking. Huh. That’s new.

“Ruby.” Ren jogs up to them as Oscar finally releases them. “Thank gods.”

Behind him, Sun and Blake are digging Yang out of a dune, and Weiss is wrapped in Winter’s arms. Ruby’s heart feels tight at the sight, and yet lighter than it’s been in recent memory. Ren helps her down from Nora’s arms. Her legs are shaky as a newborn calf, but she’s standing. Nora and Oscar keep an arm around her shoulders to keep her upright.

Or maybe to keep her from vanishing again.

Ren’s smile is warm and more genuine than she’d seen since before Atlas. “It’s… I’m glad you’re back.” His voice is thick with unshed tears as he wraps her in a hug.

“I’m glad to be back.” And it’s sort of shocking when she realizes that… she is happy to be back. “Sorry for worrying you guys.” Ren pulls away and holds her at arm’s length. His eyes flick over her, focusing on something she can’t see and Ruby shifts awkwardly. “What’s uh… what’s up?”

“He’s not here, is he?” Ren says it quietly, almost whispers, and Ruby jolts.

“It has to be me, you’re all the ones who matter.”

“What?! That’s bullshit, Jaune, what about your team?!”

“They don’t need me, not anymore. Or at least not as much as Remnant needs you guys.”

“You can’t believe-”

“You’re okay with just staying here alone?!”

“Of course not. But I’ve been here the longest and… I’ll be fine.”

“Your family, you can’t-”

“You guys are my family, too! Guys please don’t make this harder than it already is-”

“No! We’ll figure out another way, we just need-”

"There isn’t another way! Please just… tell Ren and Nora I love them. And Oscar too. And tell them I’m sorry.”

“Jaune…”

“It’s what she would do.” His voice is thick with tears. He's shaking, and for a moment Ruby realizes that Jaune doesn't want this any more than they do. There just isn't another choice to make.

He’s looking at Ruby through the door. His hand is on Pyrrha’s sash and he’s smiling even as tears run down his cheeks. “Bye guys.”

And the door closes.

Ruby sucks in a gasp and stumbles back. Oscar catches her, already blurting worried assurances, but Nora looks sharply from Ren to Ruby, all her happy-go-lucky masks gone in the face of her partner’s soul-searching truth.

Distantly Ruby realizes that the sounds of digging have halted and the occupants of the sandy valley are all watching their exchange. “No. No that’s not true,” Nora insists. “That’s impossible!” But Ren’s expression is stony, and Ruby’s eyes are welling with tears.

Nora’s grip slackens on Ruby and she falls to the ground. Her fists pound the sand, and she screams until her lungs have no breath, until the air is filled with sobs. Ren is a statue, and she doesn’t have to have his Semblance to see the emotions whirling in a tornado within him. Oscar’s teary expression is distant in that way it always is when he’s talking to Ozpin. Eventually his face tightens and he sinks slowly to the ground, his face in his hands.

“Jaune wanted…” Ruby swallows thickly, tears threatening to steal her words. Somehow her eyes find Yang's, she can't look at the remaining members of ALPN. But this was the last thing her best friend ever asked of her, so she has to try. “He wanted me to say he loves you guys… more than anything.”

“And he’s sorry.”

#rwby #ruby rose #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #lie ren #oscar pine #rwby volume 9 #rwby spoilers #mine #my writing #asks #anonymous

142 notes · View notes