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arijackz · 2 months

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PICK A CARD: What are your most alluring qualities?

🂺 "Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears." ~ Edgar Allen Poe~

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, take what resonates. This is meant to help uplift your spirit and highlight qualities about you that transcend space and time and manage to energetically get picked up by lil ol' me. Who then tries to put that inexplicable beauty into words. :)

p1 → p2 ↙︎ p3 → p4

☀︎ Pile One ☀︎ (nine of cups, magician rev., moon rev.,hanged man, page of cups, queen of cups)

⇾ Pink. Yellow. Fuzzy. This feels so warm, there's heat around my waist. Maybe you’re a dancer? Do you like to wear very big pullovers or extra garments around your waist? Corsets? I’m getting a strong emphasis with an attraction toward your waistline. Also, a very airy feeling in my ribs. ⇾ You’re fucking hilarious. Your ability to uplift any room’s vibe is extremely attractive. Strong water energy, Cancer, Pisces, Scorpio, 4th, 8th, 12th house. But not as emotionally heavy. Not the thunderstorm but the sunny, dewy morning after. Literal sunshine. You may have a signature scent. Coconut, vanilla, brown sugar. Before shuffling your cards, my nose was congested but while I was channeling, I had these moments where air would pass through the room, clear my sinuses, and the tingling feeling in my ribs came back. ⇾ You’re a high. A nice clean, mellow high. The brief moments in time when your body completely relaxes and you start flowing with the wind. People are addicted to how you make them feel. Your energy feels like the first hit of that oui. wink wink. People get a hit of your energy and it feels like an escape. This is my intuitive and sensitive dreamy pile. There is a lot of emotional depth here, you’re enigmatic. Being in your presence transports people to a simpler time in their lives. A period where the sun shined brighter, the air was cleaner, and all the color in the world felt more vivid. People can sense the storm raging in the back of your head but can visually see your perseverance and ability to not let darkness rot you, keeping this light and airy energy. It’s almost superhuman, you almost seem not real. You’re impossibly infectious. ⇾ You have a lot of natural inner abundance, you attract a lot in life even if you don’t realize it. I’m getting moksha house energy, a strong wheelhouse of influential power. The duality of your sweet, caring but reserved introspective nature is sexy as fuck, to be honest. It is hypnotizing and ignites people. I also see you have attractive skin, whether it’s clear, glowy, or cute moles, I'm not sure. But something about your skin people just can’t help but want to trace and admire. Jupiter/Pisces energy. Sugary sweet and in your own world, I feel like I have a toothache. Rare kind and light energy. Your attractiveness and romantic influence on people is one of your natural talents pile 1. I can see that with the Jupiterian energy I'm getting. You got 3 major arcana cards back to back. You’re a light in the dark and people are moths to a flame.

"You're pretty like a memory"

☀︎ Pile Two ☀︎ (ace of swords, the tower, knight of swords, 6 of swords rev, the magician, 3 of wands)

⇾ Well for starters, you’re SEXXXYYYY. Not just physically, but your wit, intelligence…people’s attraction to you gives me the image of Joan of Arc’s admirers. People perceive you as gorgeous, brave, and intimidatingly capable. ⇾ I’m getting Uranian energy, Yes, something about you is very mercurial, but this is next level. In modern astrology, Uranus is a higher octave of Mercury and symbolizes putting these higher-level ideas into action. Your ability to think of a goal and go after it is attractive. Or have a belief and fiercely defend it. I don’t know if you’re aware, but you have an innate ability to monetize or profit off of your ideas and skills. Especially with all this sword energy, the 3 of wands, AND the magician. Mane, you make shit HAPPEN. You make shit shake. A lot of people say they’re going to do things they have no intention of starting or say things they don’t actually believe. You are a rare exception to that. You put your money where your mouth is, and the amount of willpower and intelligence you possess is intimidating yet so very very attractive. ⇾ There’s gotta be some major concentration in your natal chart, a stellium, a reoccurring modality, sign, not sure but your energy is uniquely focused and intense. You may sometimes battle with excess mental energy. Anxiety, overthinking, etc. You’re a harbinger of change. Wherever you go, major changes follow and there is something very important about your energy. Your footprint in this world is larger than the average person’s. Your sense of self and your loyalty to your authenticity and values is highly admirable. *whispers* maybe even enviable, watch out for negative intentions and trust your discernment. ⇾ Whether you’re a man or woman watching this, you intimidate a lot of men. You’re the creme of the crop so to speak. You are the human embodiment of a warrior. Strategic, brave, and your fire cannot be dimmed. You have this eternal energy to you. Your name will be sung long after you leave this Earth. There will be tales and songs about you. There is an emphasis on making a change and legacy here, 10th house/ Capricorn Energy. Solar and Jupiterian energy is possible too, there's a lot of king semblance here. I feel like your frame is very attractive. Defined muscles especially around your neck and shoulders. Fox attractiveness. Sharp features, or some special emphasis with your lips, jaw, and teeth. There is a lot of sexual attraction in this pile. I was shuffling and getting flashes of old Wattpad enemies to lovers and dark academia rivalry fanfiction 😭😭. I’m getting a headrush. Maybe you feel like a headrush to people at times. You might look good in darker, cool-tone colors or have dark hair. ⇾ You make people aware of their shortcomings and that triggers them. You trigger strong emotions in people. People see you as superior to many, you’re either singled out in a crowd positively or negatively. People either love or hate you but it is undeniable that you are sexy and very fucking capable. You also have the ace of wands at the bottom of the deck…like I said…sexy and capable.

"Don't look at me with those eyes"

☀︎ Pile Three ☀︎ (The tower, queen of swords, three of pentacles, queen of wands, 9 of wands)

⇾ This is my dark feminine pile. 🎶Sheee’sssss a maaaann eeeaaatttttttuuuhhhhhhhh🎶, Ironically, the black cat got chosen for this pile. The tower paired with the two queen cards screams shadowy feminine to me, but balanced. The three of pentacles create a bridge between your intense fire and air energy. You balance your shadowy, detached and your fiery, passionate nature and it creates this intoxicating dichotomy that people can not get enough of. ⇾ You also are reserved and guarded, people can tell it is hard to gain your trust and gain access to your inner world so people subconsciously try hard to earn your favor. When I was laying out your cards my eyes got heavy and I felt like I needed to go to bed. You have a very sultry sluggishness to you. Think about Corpse Bride, how her eyes were always low, she moved slowly, and her voice was low. You have a dark veil over your character that is very alluring. There may be an 8th house or Mars emphasis in your natal chart. Make sure to check your planetary midpoints. ⇾ I am getting a Gabriette Betchel vibe. There's a darkness around the eyes of the man standing in the nine of wands. There is a draw to the shape of your eyes, especially if they droop a little or you have sunken eyes. Maybe you like dark makeup if you’re into makeup. This pile definitely had a crush on Morticia Adams growing up. You ARE Morticia Adams. Pretty Rave Girl is playing in my head, I don’t associate your energy with the rave aesthetic but I get the sense that people fantasize about you. You’re naturally mysterious and detached and most people only have an idea of you rather than a one-on-one connection. You may face a lot of projections, there’s fog around people’s perception of you. Plutonian-type power, insanely magnetic, with Neputinian-type glamour, veiled and shapeshifting. There may be some WLW baddies in this collective. ⇾ I feel like a very small number of people truly know you, you are reserved and selective with your energy and let me tell you, that is the most attractive practice a human being can implement. You are a once-in-a-lifetime personality that people dream about embodying. YOU ARE AN AESTHETIC. Well not exactly, I’m not limiting you down to your appearance. But you are the ideal embodiment of the dark feminine, man-eater aesthetic. The other three piles felt like concepts that I tried to piece together to paint a picture, your pile feels like a tried and true timeless dark sexiness that we've seen in cinema and music videos throughout the years. There is range here though, I’m feeling anywhere between Morticia Adams to Effy from Skins. The allure of Hollywood’s bombshells mixed with the angst and self-guardedness of America’s outcasted teen icons. I’m seeing an emerald snake, if you’re into sidereal astrology you may have ashlesha placements. I could write an entire essay about the fucking bullshit you've endured and THRIVED FROM but this is already getting a lil lengthy lol. Just know that you are living testament to the saying “I get knocked down ten times but get up eleven.” Stay sexy pookie.

"You got your HP Lovecraft... your Edgar Allan Poe"

☀︎ Pile Four ☀︎ (high priestess, two of swords, 4 of pentacles, the empress, knight of pentacles, 10 of cups)

⇾ UHHHH THE DRAAMMAAA. Bae, the high priestess FLEW out. You’re angelic. No mf backtalk. I don’t know about the stereotypical angel, but something about your presence is otherworldly. So intense but hard to conceptualize, can’t classify your energy as anything less than angelic. People see you as something holy and righteous. A theme of fairness and divinity is strong here. I’m seeing the virgin (Virgo, purity) and a gavel (libra, balance and fairness.) Your energy is always in a state of balance and harmony. Temperance did not come out, but I’d bet my top dollar that it would have if I kept pulling. ⇾ I’m hearing a steady water stream and the flaps of bird wings. People come to you for peace and tranquility. Your aura is serene and healing. Being near you is like transporting to a haven with clean water, a sustainable garden, fresh air, and BUNNIES. An image of a ton of white bunnies just came to me. This is not an 18+ reading, so I won’t go into detail but bunnies represent fertility and high sexual energy. You have an abundance of creativity. The best representation of people’s attraction to you I can put into words is like seeing raw energy. There’s this movie that came out in 2017 called Annihilation and there’s a scene where the main character comes into contact with pure energy and is so entranced by it that she just stares at it head empty, blankly in complete awe. THAT is how people see you. Like c’mon high priestess, the empress, 10 of cups, don’t ever fucking question yourself. You have an undeniably divine aura. ⇾ You’re a big deal, you're energy is very enlightening and calm but there is a heavy weight to it. Everything you do in life makes an impression and holds weight. Your thoughts matter, your conversation changes lives, and your very presence makes an imprint on people’s souls. Virgo 6th house, libra 7th house, Scorpio 8th house, Pisces 12th house. ⇾ You also have a very stable, Earthy nature to you with the 4 of pentacles and the Empress. To me, this is pure wealth. You will see a lot of luxury in your lifetime. You are a giver, you have a lot to offer the world. You are the epitome of “fill my own cup and let it overflow to those around me.” You share your abundance and prosperity follows you. You have the divine understanding that life is all about balance and what you give, you receive tenfold. ⇾ People think you look really good in white. Blonde hair could be a good look on you. Any aesthetic that involves purity or innocence really suits you. Personally, I’d say you look fucking killer in red hair. ⇾ With the ten of cups, I’m getting major wish-fulfillment vibes. When suitors see you they hear an angelic chime in their ear (I hear it right now) and music starts playing. DREAM GIRL. By the strictest definition too, you’re very dreamy and your allure is cloudy, people are afraid if they touch you, you’ll float away. You could have prominent Neptune placements. Do you like to sing? Harmoney and melodic sounds keep popping up. I'm thinking of Euterpe, the muse of music. ⇾ Your abundance leaks into your appearance (look for aspects to your ascendant, especially Neptune, Jupiter, and the Sun), you look very youthful and hydrated. It’s going to sound creepy but from a biological, primal-lizard brain perspective, you look fruitful and like you'd bear many blessings and children. Your skin is well hydrated and plump, your hair is strong and luscious, and you look overall very healthy.

"Be Not Afraid."

ahhh that was so much fun! to those who resonated with a pile, thank you for giving me the pleasure of experiencing your energy and reading for you. if you liked it let me know :)

#pick a card #pick a pile #tarot #tarot reading #pac #pac tarot #affirmations #self concept

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dewdropdinosaur · 28 days

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White Gold Glitters Too

ALASTOR x READER SMUT

Summary: Lucifer takes too much of a liking to Alastor's wife and he seeks to claim her and prove his dominance. Fucking her for Lucifer to hear sounds like a good option.

Warnings: NSFW/18+. MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Oral Sex, Reader has a Vagina, Heavy Sex, C*m, Implied P in V Sex, Jealous Fucking, Mention of Restraints, Tentacles

I have never written smut before...so I am sorry.

REQUESTS OPEN

Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon from Hazbin Hotel, was known for his charismatic yet enigmatic presence. He ruled over his domain with a devilish grin and a penchant for blood. But beneath his charming facade lay a heart that beat fiercely for one person: his beloved wife, Y/N.

Y/N was the epitome of grace and beauty, with a kindness that melted even the most hardened of souls. She had captured Alastor's heart as soon as they had entered through the doors of the hotel, and he would do anything to keep her by his side. Having been newly wed, Alastor’s possessive nature seemed to rear its head often when it came to his bride.

However, trouble brewed when Lucifer, the fallen angel and hellish king himself, began to take an seeming interest in Y/N. His smooth words and suave demeanor drew her attention, much to Alastor's dismay. Alastor’s confidence was shaken when Lucifer Morningstar began to show a keen interest in Y/N. Despite her loyalty to Alastor, Lucifer's suave demeanor and irresistible charisma stirred a jealousy deep within Alastor's demonic heart.

It has begun innocently enough, with Lucifer's smooth compliments and flirtatious gestures towards Y/N whenever they crossed paths. Then it turned to a hand atop hers or brushing hair out of her face while she worked on fixing up the hotel. At first, Alastor attempted to suppress his jealousy, masking his feelings with his trademark grin and witty remarks. But as Lucifer's advances towards Y/N became more pronounced, Alastor's facade began to crack.

One fateful evening, as the flames of Hell danced in the distance, Alastor found himself unable to contain his simmering jealousy any longer. He watched from a distance as Lucifer flirted shamelessly with Y/N, his patience wearing thin with each passing moment.

His once cheerful demeanor turned dark as he became increasingly passive-aggressive, making evil eyes at the short king(yes my dears, narrators can make a joke occasionally.) But still, Lucifer persisted in his advances, seemingly unfazed by Alastor's silent warnings. Y/N, momentarily stepping away at Charlie’s call for some assistance, left the two men alone in the lobby.

“Well, well, if it isn't the charming Lucifer. Quite the show you're putting on tonight”

Lucifer smirked, “Ah, Alastor, always a pleasure to see you. And might I say, your wife looks positively radiant this evening. You picked a good one.”

Alastor forced a smile, a natural habit of his that was wearing on him. “Why, thank you, Lucifer. She does tend to have that effect, doesn't she? Though I must say, your interest in her appearance is unexpected.”

“Oh, Alastor, there's no harm in appreciating beauty when it's right in front of you. And your wife is truly a sight to behold.” Lucifer leaned closer, using his elbow to nudge Alastor in the ribs playfully; unaware of the brewing violence in the red demon before him. Or maybe he did know and elected to ignore it. Lucifer did get terribly bored.

Alastor spoke firmly through clenched teeth “Indeed, she is. But I must warn you, Lucifer, my patience wears thin when it comes to matters of the heart.”

“Just engaging in some harmless conversation. Does that bother you?

“Of course, how silly of me to assume otherwise.” Both men quipped back and forth so sarcastically it could've been considered the eight deadly sin.

Returning from aiding the princess, Y/N resumed her place by Alastor’s side and back into the conversation. Unable to contain his jealousy any longer, Alastor put a hand on his wife’s shoulder and looked towards Y/N with a forced smile plastered on his face. "Darling, would you care for a stroll?" he offered, his voice dripping with false sweetness.

Y/N, oblivious to the turmoil raging within her husband, nodded with a smile and waved goodbye to Lucifer. As they walked through the dimly lit corridors of Hell, Alastor's mind seethed with anger and resentment.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, Alastor halted abruptly and turned to face Y/N. "Tell me, my dear, what is it about Lucifer that captivates you so?" he demanded, his words laced with bitterness.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise at the sudden change in Alastor's demeanor. "Alastor, what are you talking about? Lucifer is just being friendly," she protested, confusion etched on her face.

"Friendly? Yes, that's one way to put it. Though, his friendliness seems rather... focused, wouldn't you say?"

Y/N glanced at Alastor, sensing the tension in his voice. She attempted to defuse the situation with a reassuring smile.

Y/N: "Alastor, there's no need to worry. You know where my heart lies."

Alastor's smile tightened, his grip on Y/N's hand becoming just a tad too firm.

Alastor: "Of course, my dear. I'm well aware. But it's amusing, isn't it? How Lucifer seems to find you so... intriguing."

Y/N shot Alastor a puzzled look, sensing the underlying resentment in his words.

"Alastor, you're being awfully aggressive. Is something bothering you?"

Alastor's grin widened, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes as he turned his gaze back to Lucifer.

Alastor: "Bothering me? Not at all, my dear. Just finding it fascinating how Lucifer can't seem to keep his eyes off you. Quite the dilemma, wouldn't you agree?

Alastor refused to be swayed by her words. With a fierce determination, he pulled Y/N flush to his chest and pushed her back against the wall, his grip possessive and demanding. Peering down into her eyes, his own glowed with a dark green hue.

"I'll show you who the better man is, my dear," he growled, his crimson eyes blazing with intensity as he slammed his lips to capture hers. Moaning into the kiss, Y/N slowly brought her hands up to find themselves tangled in Alastor’s red locks.

Trailing his hand up to her waist, Alastor gave it a tight squeeze that made his wife squeak. Chuckling at the reaction, both their lips remained interlocked for what seemed an eternity. Deciding she had enough teasing, Y/N grabbed hold of Alastor’s cane and used its shadows to transport them to their shared bedroom. Taking the hint, Alastor walked their bodies to the king sized bed and laid down on the red silken sheets. Now with back flush against the mattress, Y/N wasted no time in relocking her lips back to her husband's.

Nimble fingers traced up her waist, tugging softly on the waistband of her shorts before suddenly ripping them off of her body. Exposed to the cool air, Y/N let out a gasp of surprise that was quickly replaced with a lewd moan as Alastor traced a knuckle up her clothed core.

“Darling, tsk tsk. We haven’t even begun and you are drenching my fingers through these clothes.” Continuing to drag his finger across her pantie-clad slit, Alastor mumbled the words into the base of her neck.

“Stop–fuck–stop teasing Al.”

“Oh but dear, that’s half the fun.” Despite his words, he obliged her request by removing the offending garment from her body. Working his way down, his face ended between her thighs. His eyes widened at the glittering white gold slick that painted her hole.

“Gorgeous darling, glittering gorgeous.” Diving in, his tongue lapped up all the juices that spilled from her needy cunt. Sucking softly here and there while delving as deep as his tongue would allow(he would not admit to using magic to make it longer), Y/N let out wanton moans and lewd hisses of pleasure. Gripping the sheets beneath her as her eyes remained shut in ecstasy. To make matters worse, or better depending on who you ask, Alastor inserted his finger into her while continuing to feast. He could see her holding back some of her noises, desperate to control her lust.

"Darling, do not hide from me."

"But normally you don't want people to hear--"

"That does not apply today. Let all of Hell and that filthy king know you are mine."

Stretching her open, he added another finger; scissoring her wide. Y/n’s eyes rolled into the back of her head and her body involuntarily shifted away from the overstimulating assault. Taking his other hand, Alastor placed it on her hip and held her in place.

“Unless you would like to be restrained, I insist you remain in place.” Perking up at the thought, Y/N gulped. Being restrained by Alastor’s slick tentacles, forcing her legs open so he could do as he pleased; letting him use them to fill every hole piqued her interest. Perhaps for another time.

The thoughts and stimulation from Alastor’s mouth and his fingers nearly had her cumming, mumbling incoherently for just a bit more to push her over the edge. Smirking, Alastor brought a third finger into her hole, its walls squeezing onto him for dear life. Using his thumb to rub against her clit, the stimulation was bearing nearly too much.

“Go on Y/N. Tell me….tell me how I can only make you feel this good. That even the King of Hell couldn’t make you cum just from his fingers.”

That’s what did it, Y/N felt the coil in her stomach snap as she cried Alastor’s name. Surely, the whole hotel had heard her by now. Just as Alastor wanted. Cum now coated his fingers and the bedsheets below as her high overtook her senses and she saw stars.

Drawing his fingers slowly out of her and bringing them to his lips, Alastor sucked on the white gold juices. Both parties covered in a layer of thin sweat, panting heavily and overcome with arousal. Walking his hands forward till both of his arms caged her in on the bed and she could feel his growing bulge against her thighs, Alastor whispered darkly.

“Now dear, feel like letting Lucifer know how good round two is about to feel?”

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milky-aeons · 2 months

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'𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎 𝐔𝐒 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓

ᯓ★ starring: dazai osamu, kunikida doppo, atsushi nakajima, chuuya nakahara and fyodor dostoevsky; what they would be like on their wedding day.

warnings: marriage, swearing, alcohol-intake, wife reader, w.c 3.5k

ᯓ★𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐔

: ̗̀➛ Dazai, who never really acted like a conventional human being, also did not propose like one, either. After dating the enigmatic Armed Detective Agent for, by then, two years, you did not expect him to get down on one knee and produce a beautiful ring, like you had seen in the movies. But you also did not expect him to drop the question like it was a frivolous thing one random Tuesday evening while you both shared a drink at your favourite late-night bar.

Blinking, your glass frozen mid-way to your lips, you turned to him and said, "What did you... just say?" That mischievous smile you were so quick to fall for flashed across his face. "I said, why don't we get married, hmm~?"

: ̗̀➛ There was no other answer in your mind, your heart, than a resounding yes. For he was the thorn in your side as much as he was your other half. Through the whirlwind of months following, you found it hard to discern where one day ended and the next began. Time bled together until you didn't have nearly enough of it, and the day of the ceremony was here. It was a casual affair not bound too tightly by tradition. By the help of the agents, an old, abandoned manor sitting by the riverside had been fashioned into your very own cathedral.

: ̗̀➛ Yosano Akiko fussed over your dress, your hair, your makeup — to a point where you thought she was having way too much fun. And yet, she left no stones unturned, either. As you walked in through the building decorated with bouquets of flowers and rows upon rows of familiar faces, she hooked her arm into yours and walked by your side. Using Thou Shalt Not Die, the doctor instructed fluttering, iridescent butterflies to sit against your dress and your veil, the cornet of your hair, any place she could in order to make you glow.

: ̗̀➛ He stood to his towering height at the alter with his back turned to you in an immaculate suit of white. And when he spun to face you, you fell in love for a second time — with his brunet hair tucked behind his ear, the blue rose pinned to his suit lapel and his eyes; how they watched you. With a type of stunned disbelief that melted into adoration. When you came to stand by his side in front of the pastor, his hand reached down to twine with your fingers, and he whispered;

"You — are absolutely breath-taking."

: ̗̀➛ Kyouka Izumi played the role of ring-bearer, delivering a small white pillow with the two shining bands once it was time to say your vows. Dazai reached out tenderly, slowly, as if to preserve this moment for as long as he could, and lifted the veil from your face. His eyes shuttered. He reached for your hand and slid the smaller band onto your finger, his eyes downcast, his voice low and intimate.

"Through you I have found what it means to love, what it is to feel human, and while I am by your side — I endeavour to protect and earn that title. For as long as I shall live, I am yours. My soul, my name, they are all yours."

: ̗̀➛ As the ceremony reached its closure, when you had both been bound to each other in heart and in soul, Dazai could not wait another moment before he could reach for you. As soon as the words you may kiss the bride left the pastor's lips, Dazai had looped his arms around your waist and bent you back into a dramatic dip. Cheers and claps filled the riverside chapel, you smiled widely against his lips, expecting nothing less of him. Your soulmate. Your husband. Your Osamu, who's name you brandished as your own.

𝐃𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 . . .

"Kunikida-kun~!" Dazai's loud voice, a little accentuated with alcohol, swam over the crowd. "Play the thing we talked about!"

Curious, your head turned to the sounds of footsteps shuffling onto the dancefloor illuminated by pale spotlights. The afterparty was in full swing, you had been flanked by a group of well-wishing women when your husband's voice reached your ears. Each of you observed as Dazai, alongside Kunikida, Junichirou, Atsushi and little Kenji took centre stage. Excited murmurs fluttered through the throng.

"What on earth are they doing?" You wondered, and then the starting notes to All The Single Ladies began blaring from the party speakers. Your mouth dropped. Every single one of the Armed Detective Agents began to move in unison to the beat of the music.

And for the third time, you fell in love with him, again. Expecting that there would be many more to come.

ᯓ★𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐃𝐀 𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐎

: ̗̀➛ Kunikida Doppo, who, at first, had not planned to marry you. After all, you only met twenty out of his proposed fifty-eight requirements that made the perfect wife. That was the thing about your relationship, however — you had come into the agent's life unplanned, uninvited, and turned every one of his rigid ideals up on their heads.

: ̗̀➛ Yet it was only telling of the Idealist and his old habits, how Kunikida went about asking for your hand in marriage. It had been early on a weekday afternoon when he had called you into one of the private meeting rooms of the Agency's office. He'd pushed his glasses up the strong bridge of his nose and laid out his terms. He'd even written a business contract for you to sign. The page had gone flying in the air when you had tackled him from across the table. Smattering a thousand kisses against his blushing, flustered face and breathing the words yes, yes, you silly man, yes!

: ̗̀➛ To concur with both your family's wishes and his own, a traditional wedding was set in motion. Kunikida Doppo was always a man to abide by rules and regulations, but it had occurred to you that perhaps he was taking this affair a little too seriously. For your parents, he gifted them the very traditional shiraga thread. During the sake ceremony, the blond sat ramrod straight, moving mechanically to take sips from the three cups. One for past, one for present, and one for your future. Together.

: ̗̀➛ He was so serious, in fact, that you had become nervous on the morning of your wedding — your most beloved of friends helping you into your garments, trying to soothe your thoughts. What if he doesn't want to marry me? You would whisper as they fashioned your hair up. What if I've forced him into this, what if he's unhappy? To one of your many anxieties, your friend had met your eyes in the mirror, and smiled.

"Oh, honey," She chuckled, leaning down to kiss you on the cheek. "You should see the way that man looks at you."

: ̗̀➛ Her words played in your mind as the traditional music was strung during your procession to meet him. The black colours he donned made his long ponytail appear golden, his body strong, his face even more handsome. As he watched you come down the shrine walkway to be by his side, the blond reached up with one hand to push his glasses away and covered his eyes. It had taken you a few months after to realise that in that moment, Kunikida Doppo had shed a tear.

: ̗̀➛ It was not tradition for vows to be spoken, and yet Kunikida asked to say a few words as the ceremony drew to a close. You watched him carefully as he picked up the microphone, curious at the intentions he had. It was in that moment that your newly wed husband faced the crowd and brought the mic to his lips.

"First, I would like to thank you all for gracing our marriage with both your presence and your blessings. It is something we will see not to squander." "Second, I would like to say some thoughts of mine, if you would all be so inclined. Marriage, to me, was initially an agreement of convenience. I had the perfect woman laid out seamlessly. And in my wife that stands with me today, I say that she is not that perfect woman I so wished to find. But she is everything more. She is my best friend, she is my support, she is the person I go to sleep thinking of and wake up searching for. To me, she is my home, and I will take care of her fiercely."

: ̗̀➛ At your small reception, Kunikida was stolen away from you by some affiliates of the Armed Detective Agency and had his sake cup topped up one too many times. He found you afterwards, and proclaimed both his love and adoration for his newly-betrothed to everyone and anyone that was within a five mile radius.

𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 . . .

"Come here," You whispered to him, now in the comfort of your own apartment walls. A considerably uncoordinated Kunikida was struggling out of his Haorihimo, cursing in drunken slurs and promises of retribution to the small sliver of fabric.

Your fingers eased the cloth out from underneath his arms and you began to loosen the knot. Your husband was staring up at you from behind his crooked glasses. He swayed a little, and you stood in front of him, ready to support him if he went toppling forward off the bed.

But then, two strong, solid arms came up to the small of your back and he crushed you against him. Burying his head into your chest, he murmured;

"From the very first day I met you... I loved you. D'ya know that?"

Your heart grew tiny wings in your chest and began to sore. Smiling, you reached up, carding your fingers through his blond locks and undoing the tight ponytail.

"The first day you met me, you told me I was inefficient and lazy, my dear husband." You mused.

He grunted. "Same... thing."

ᯓ★𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐌𝐀

: ̗̀➛ Your relationship with Atsushi was one that blossomed slow and tenderly. It was a natural progression, after three years of happy dating, for the agent to ask you to marry him. Everything Atsushi Nakajima did in regards to showing his affection for you was always timid and reserved — you never expected it; the elaborate surprise he had waiting in store for you that morning you came into the Agency's offices just like you always did.

: ̗̀➛ Well, perhaps he had a little help from the other agents, for the office was barren when you entered. Your eyebrows had creased at the very uncharacteristic quiet of the usually chaotic area you worked in. You had checked the time, wondering if you had showed up a little too early on accident. But then, there was a voice — the voice of agent Dazai Osamu, shouting at you to come to the nearest window and to do so urgently—!

Each of the agents stood at the sidewalk, all holding up a sign with different characters that made up a whole sentence. A question. And Atsushi — your sweet, kind, caring Atsushi, was perched in the middle, the biggest bouquet of roses in his sheepish hands. Will you marry me?

: ̗̀➛ Both you and Atsushi decide to get married somewhere far removed from the city skyline of Yokohama. You wanted somewhere special to remember this day, and perhaps, the great outdoors and stretching greens spoke to Atsushi's beastly side a little more, too. So you chose the heart of a nearby woodland where a great, ancient willow tree served as your alter.

: ̗̀➛ Atsushi wore a suit of sky-blue. You wore a simple slip dress decorated with accents of lace and flowers, Kenji had twined some wildflowers into your hair. The fauna of the forest acted as your choir when you walked down the small trail of brambles to your soon-to-be husband who waited at the base of the winding trunk.

: ̗̀➛ The reception was held in a greenhouse funded by the Agency's private books — you and Atsushi were members, after all, so Kunikida took a little less persuading than usual to move his ledgers around. For lunch, you served chazuke, and when you took the first dance, Atsushi's eyes appeared more gold than they were violet as they looked at you so lovingly the whole time.

𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐒 . . .

"Atsushi, they'll notice that we're gone." You giggled, bunching your dress up so you could step over the little bush of thickets. When you both reached the winding roots of the willow tree you promised yourselves to each other underneath, Atsushi transformed his arms and legs into their tiger equivalents.

"Dazai-san said he'd keep everyone entertained." He whispered, and then stepped forward to wrap his soft arms around you. "Are you ready?"

"It may be a little late for second thoughts." You teased, but looped your arms around his slender neck and relaxed into his hold. The new golden band on your finger glinted in the moonlight.

And using that tiger-strength, Atsushi dug his claws into the ancient tree bark and began to climb. Higher and higher until you both broke through the canopy cover and could look to the millions of stars winking at you overhead.

"Oh, Atsushi." You breathed in awe, taking in the wonders above. "Oh, it's beautiful."

Your husband nuzzled into your hair and whispered, "Each one represents all the lifetimes I'd still find and fall in love with you in."

ᯓ★𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 𝐍𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀

: ̗̀➛ It had initially been you and your General lover's plan to keep your engagement quiet and have a small affair away from town. Just the two of you, because Chuuya thought some of his colleagues were insufferable pains in his ass, and all hell would break loose if they were to figure out they had a wedding plan on their hands. It was, however, unfortunate, that you two had been discussing what type of ceremony you'd like to have when Hirotsu was just about to turn one of the corners. It took exactly one hour for the entire Port Mafia to know. Two for it to reach the Armed Detective Agency.

: ̗̀➛ It was no longer a personal affair. This wedding became a spectacle within the Mafia's ranks. From the lowest levels all the way to the boss himself, everyone was abuzz with ideas and anticipation, excited that one of their top brass was getting married and they could all take advantage of the time off to have a grand party. Chuuya threatened to resign several times, you always laughed at how excited the entire criminal organisation became at the prospect of celebration.

: ̗̀➛ True to the boss' word, you and Chuuya's wedding was held in one of the grandest churches Yokohama had to offer — having mysteriously skipped the two year waiting list. The building was laved in gold and stain glass windows. Chuuya wore a fine suit of blood-red and a black tie that contrasted with his wild curls, his hard blue eyes. But when they saw you come down the aisle, they softened, and when he said his vows to you, you never thought anyone would look at you with such adoration ever again.

: ̗̀➛ The main event was held in the bowels of the Port Mafia — one of the largest show-rooms this organisation had to offer, with chandeliers hanging from the ceilings and a private band playing any songs they were requested. Chuuya, for the majority of your reception, could not seem to keep his hands off of you. If you were not by his hip, his eyes would instantly go searching for you within the throng of party-goers. When he did find you, he would place a hand to the small of your back, he'd lean in to kiss you and say;

"There you are, my wife."

: ̗̀➛ There was another reason as to why Chuuya Nakahara was originally so hellbent on taking your wedding somewhere more quiet and peaceful. And it came in the form of a brunet ex-partner waltzing into the organisation's party, a broad simper on his infuriating face. Dazai Osamu took your hand and kissed the back of it, extending his deepest sympathies and that if you ever needed to blow off steam, he could give you his number.

: ̗̀➛ The Port Mafia ballroom had originally started off with three grand chandeliers. After Dazai had purred those taunting words, there was then, only two.

: ̗̀➛ After the many shards had been swept from the floor by a cleaning crew, the private band struck an up-beat quartet. Both you and your newly-wed husband took to the floor for the first dance. Chuuya's hand splayed protectively against your back, his other gloved palm slotting into yours and guiding you to twirl, skip, spin.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄 . . .

"Shit, sorry." He grumbled when your foreheads were touching, the proximity sending his breath fanning across your cheeks. His pointy canines were jutting against his bottom lip. "That motherfucker — he just makes me see red."

"Hey, it's okay." You said, catching his eyes. "Because I love you. You, Nakahara. I am all yours and no one else's."

Those words touched something deep within this man's chest. Of course, the proof that you were his sat in the form of two stacked rings on your left hand, but to hear it. To look into your beautiful eyes and see the amount of love there.

He surprised you by reaching down to your hips and lifting you up, twirling you around, around, around.

"And I'm forever yours, babydoll."

ᯓ★𝐅𝐘𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐎𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐄𝐕𝐒𝐊𝐘

: ̗̀➛ The initial letter you received from Fyodor asking for your hand in marriage — originally, you believed it to be fake. A shallow joke from someone who knew of you and the mastermind's occasional on-and-off relationship whenever he returned to your homeland. But as you traced the delicate loops of the handwriting that looked so much like his own, in the intimate moonlight beams of late night — you'd let yourself imagine. Hope. Only for it to swell and dwindle like ashes of a flame. Because there was just no way he would ask to marry you. That he would marry, at all.

: ̗̀➛ It was fitting then; how palpable your shock was when the slender, pale man you had accidentally fallen in love with — like a fool — was standing on the other side of your door that early morning. You had blinked hard, rubbed your eyes, wondered if you were weary from too many sleepless nights. When the stars had cleared from your vision, he was still there. An amused little smile stretched against his lips.

"So? Are you ready to get married?" You stared at him. And stared. And then dropped your morning cup of coffee onto the tiles of your hallway.

: ̗̀➛ At the news of your sudden betrothal, your family were both elated with a healthy dose of scepticism. Who is this man you are intending to marry, they fluttered around you with questions when you broke the news. Fyodor? I've never heard you speak of him, why do you intend to marry this man, girl? At that, you had smiled, not bothering to hide the small heat of blush on your ears, and murmured;

"Because he's a thief, and he stole my heart a very long time ago."

: ̗̀➛ The wedding was held in an old cathedral of gothic architecture. You don't think you've ever seen Fyodor look so refined; standing there in his simple suit of stone-grey with a black shirt. He had his hair tucked behind his ears, his eyebags were a little less pronounced, his skin brighter — but perhaps that was just the early-morning light. When you stood before your husband to-be and handed your heart over to him, for him, there was a shift in his eyes. You could not explain it, but you knew it ran deep. You knew that in his own way, he was also handing himself over to you. And you would accept all of him, just like you accepted his name.

: ̗̀➛ Much to the dismay of your family, you did not hold a wedding reception after the ceremony, but that was only because Fyodor decided to walk with you through the freezing streets of Moscow. He held your hand, and even though on many nights where you lay together he was stone-cold, today, he felt warm.

𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃 . . .

"Fyodor?"

"Hmm?" He answered, noticing the sheepish tone in your voice. You looked up at him with those big doe eyes.

"Why did you ask to marry me?"

Fyodor held your gaze for a long, pregnant second. It was at that moment that a single flake of snow fluttered down from the grey sky and landed on his immaculate suit. Then another. Each one the same colour as your dress, each one different to the rest.

Fyodor held out his hand to catch them. "Why does the snow fall? Because it is natural. It is meant to be. I married you because it is the way I wish to fall. With you, by my side."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @cocodrilofeliz!

WRITING REQUESTS

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popamolly · 2 months

Text

‘ INTERNAL REDEMPTION ’ LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR

summary. In the fiery depths, she captures the attention of Lucifer, who senses a unique purity in her soul. With his help, (Y/N) finds herself on the path to redemption and self-discovery with dangerous trouble along the way.

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO | CHAPTER THREE

warnings. lucifer morningstar x stripper!fem!reader, she/her pronouns, valentino exists, eventual smut, mention of death, biblical references, sex work, sexual themes, trauma, abuse, murder

author’s note. inspired by @punching-pentagrams and their amazing ongoing story “Love In as Hopeless Place”, it encouraged me to write my own fic about Lucifer. go check out their story, it is so good and deserves more love!

In the dimly lit, pulsating world of Club Elysium, where the air was thick with anticipation and desire, a mysterious aura surrounded a captivating figure on the stage. Under the flickering neon lights, you moved with a mesmerizing grace that defied the earthly realm. Dressed in glistening attire that caught the reflections of the vibrant hues around her, you became an ethereal presence, drawing the attention of every gaze in the room.

Your movements were a dance of contradictions – an alluring blend of sensuality and innocence. You twirled and swayed to the rhythm of the music, casting a spell upon the enchanted audience.

Unbeknownst to the patrons of Club Elysium, you were more than just an exotic dancer seeking to enthrall with her physical prowess. Your celestial grace, forgotten in the afterlife coil she now inhabited, manifested in the subtle elegance of her performance. As you moved, you felt a distant echo of a certain purpose, an inexplicable connection to something beyond the neon-lit stage.

In the hazy ambiance, Valentino, the enigmatic owner of Club Elysium, watched from the shadows, his eyes reflecting one of red burning lust, but it was more than just lust for you— no, it was something more— it was a thirst for power that had him grinning from ear to ear. Valentino knew that in this corner of Hell he owned everything, even you.

As the music reached its crescendo, your dance reached its zenith. The room held its breath, suspended in a moment where hell and celestial intertwined. You were always the ballerina in the jelwery box, the beautiful antique that Valentino had in his grasp to show off and praise. Though he may own you outside the building you made sure to show him through your dancing, that you were the one that owned the stage. He hated when you went off script or changed the choreography but you made sure to do it on purpose and on nights you knew he was watching you.

That was your little dose of rebellion, a little taste of freedom you could only wish to have. You were content with your situation though, it could’ve been worse. At least with Valentino you were paid, clothed, and feed with an overall decent place to live. Being one of his toys had its perks— you couldn’t complain. Especially when there were those who had it so much worse than you.

“You jus’ love angerin’ him, don’t you doll?” Your coworker, Angel Dust, asked as you entered the dressing room that you and the other dancers shared. The smell of makeup and cheap perfume filled your senses, calming you with the sense of familiarity, “Cause last I checked, that wasn’t what we rehearsed.”

“Well,” You chuckled as you sat on the couch, its fabric ripped and white stuffing nearly popping out the sides, “I just thought that my choreo was better, and by the sound of that crowd and the money on stage, it was.”

“Heh,” Angel couldn’t help but envy your confidence when it came to Valentino, who owned you both in more ways than one and yet you always found a way to yank on the chains without consequence. A part of Angel loathed you for it.

You could sense the mood shift in Angel, not that you cared but you weren’t exactly heartless either. With a sigh, you get up from the couch, ignoring your aching feet as you join Angel’s side, looking into the vanity mirror so you could touch up your makeup, “Trust me, if my act wasn’t purity and innocence it would be a different story. Lucky for me, bruises and marks on my body wouldn’t sell too well.”

“Yeah, count it on luck shortcake.” With that Angel left, pushing another girl out the way angrily while snatching the drink out her hand. You could only sigh, not intending on upsetting him more but as always, your intentions don’t matter when your words spoke otherwise. It had been so long since you had a decent human connection, you were just a bit rusty.

“My sweets,” The sudden sound of Valentino’s voice had the room go silent, the air becoming so thick you were sure you’d might suffocate in it, “Can I have the room please?”

With hushed scared whispers and nervous glances, you and the other girls make your way to the door. You had hoped you could sneak past him under the cover of the other women who all but rushed passed Valentino but his slender hand caught your forearm quick, gripping it with such force that you were slightly shocked by the pain he caused— it wasn’t like him to be rough with you, “Not you, darling. We have to have a chat, don’t we mio caro?”

You turn to look at him with a frown, “About what? My performance?”

“Oh I would love to talk about that little stunt you pulled but I need you for something a bit more important,” Valentino yanks you further into the room, locking the door behind him with his other hand before slinging you against the vanity, bottles of perfume falling over and onto the ground as the desk shakes violently. Your employer towers over you with ease making you shudder beneath his fiery gaze, “I need something done and I need it done right, I trust that you can accomplish this task, yes?”

What shit was he getting you into now? You were done with porn, you had paid a hefty price to alter your contract with him and you weren’t going to slip back into the void now, not when you were so far ahead, “I won’t be one of your pornstars, Val. We had a deal.”

Valentino laughs, his pointy fingernail dragging along your cheek while he licks his lips, “This isn’t about that principessa, this is a more delicate matter. Think you’re up for it?”

“I don’t have much of a choice do I?” You yank your head away from his hands, lowering your gaze into a slight glare.

“This is why I always liked you, dove. You learn quick.”

“If you were going to tell me to send in a whore Val, I wouldv’e just asked you to send Angel Dust!” Vox glitched with anger, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration as he turned around in his chair, his claw like hands gripping onto the table with such force that it left a mark, “What makes this slut is any different from him?!”

It was hard to bite back your tongue but you did, unwillingly submitting to your role as you stood before the V’s with your eyes to the ground, not daring to even look as confident at you usually were. Not because you were scared of them, no, you were scared of embarrassing Valentino. Your boss might have forgiven you for your countless stunts but when it came to matters of business with the V’s, you knew your place.

“Angel dust thinks he is on this path to redemption, let him stay in his delusion but until I can break him fully he will never be loyal to me. Not as loyal as (Y/N) here…” Valentino wraps his hand around your neck, forcing your head up to look at Vox— who for a split second was taken back by your beauty, “I have broken (Y/N) time and time again, she would do anything for me, isn’t that right (Y/N)?”

You closed your eyes, “Yes, Valentino.”

“Good.” Valentino pushes you toward Vox, making you stumble into him, forcing him to catch you in his arms, “Quite the vixen, she would surely catch the eyes of any overlord.”

“Even the King of Hell himself?” Vox tips your chin up with his index finger, looking into your eyes with a devilishly grin that makes you shiver.

“Asmodeus throws the biggest parties in the Pride Ring that is filled with all kinds of debauchery, especially for his birthday.” Valentino explains, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his right leg over the other, exhaling out a long drag of pink smoke, “Every one of importance will be there since it isn’t just a party but a show of status.”

“And..what? Your pretty toy is just supposed to waltz in there and get the attention of any overlord that wants to fuck her?” Velvette finally tears her gaze away from her phone, raising an eyebrow in question.

“Well it is an important party of one of Lucifer’s friends—”

“Which means he is bound to be there.” Vox grins, “Get close to the king and we get closer to controlling Hell.”

“And what makes you so sure he’ll entertain such..” Velvette looks at you with a roll of her eyes, “From what I hear Lucifer is loyal to Lilith, no one has seen him with another woman on his arm and it’s been 7 years, hashtag faithful.”

“Ah, well, 7 years is a long time to go without intimacy…I say the man is touch starved and would like some attention.” Valentino says, “Anyone can still get lonely, no matter how faithful.”

“I like the way you think Val,” Vox grips your chin as you grit your teeth. “And I think your little whore here will do just nicely.”

Before you know it was the day of Asmodeus’ birthday party. The V’s gave you the run down of the plan and how you were supposed to get close to the King of Hell himself— who you haven’t even seen in person for as long as you been hell. Which was a few years by now. You were a simple lowlife, you kept to yourself and tried to survive, only to end up within his grasp. Was he as cruel as people say? ‘What sort of question is that? Of course he was! He was the King of fucking Hell, which last time you checked, wasn’t given to just anyone.’

Of all the people, of everyone in Hell, it just has to be you. Because of your cursed deal with Val, you were stuck in a continuous limbo that you couldn’t escape from. Damn you and your loyalty, damn it all if it will end up with you dead ( again ) on the steps of Lucifer’s palace. This wasn’t fair— but then again, when has your situation ever been fair?

“Oh, you look just like a doll.” Valentino ruffled with the fake angel wings that adorned your back, fixing and prodding with whatever to make you more presentable, “Like an angel. Hell, upon just a glance mio caro you might have been able to get away with actually being one.”

And as you glance at your reflection in the mirror you felt a sudden sharp pain in the center of your forehead. Only fragments of memories came flooding your mind like a crashing wave. It was all so blurry but the word Angel held some sort of weight on you but you couldn’t place exactly what.

You held onto your head, trying to steady your breathing and relaxing your nerves as Valentino continues to add the finishing touches to your look.

“Get it together, dove.” Valentino meets your gaze in the reflection, “I hope you won’t disappoint me.”

“No..” The pain in your head quickly fades away as soon as it came, “I can do this.”

“Good, because it is just about your turn to be presented for the auction.”

The auction. Asmodeus does it for sport at every single one of his parties but now that this is his birthday party, this auction is the biggest one yet. It is where he finds Hell’s most beautiful prized possessions, not limiting to actual sinners. The hope was to capture Lucifer’s attention as he would be in the crowd through this angel facade, and pray that he would bet on you. And if that didn’t work, then you would have to move on to plan B. And you didn’t like plan b.

Valentino wished you luck as you stood behind the curtain to the center stage, disappearing into the shadows to leave you on your own and this mission that was screwed from the get go.

“And last but not least, I present to you—! what is the object’s name again?” The announcer whispers, putting his microphone away from his face to get a confirmation from another employee, “Ah! The pure and innocent, (Y/N)!”

The curtain suddenly opens, the spotlight from above blinding you in away that made you shield your eyes from the brightness. You squint, looking upon a sea of red lustful eyes looking over your figure with curiosity. You take a deep breath, as you played the part of a shy girl, slowly bringing your hands to cover yourself even though the white thin laced gown left little to the imagination.

“Hubba hubba! Would you look at that boys?” Asmodeus’ eyes nearly turn into hearts at the sight of you, “And I thought nothing could even look so angelic in Hell!”

“What a beaut’” Mammon agrees.

“Indeed.” Lucifer sat beside his friends, trying to cover his boredom with peaked interest as he looks in your direction. This whole thing was pretty fucked up to him but that was just the way of life down here, there’s no changing that— no changing people when it is just in their nature. Now usually he wouldn’t indulge such things but he was the King of Hell, and he had to play the part to maintain order even though he longed for nothing but to be constructing rubber ducks right now.

“500!” A man in the crowd closer to the stage shouts.

The announcer points in the man’s direction with enthusiasm, “I hear 500! What about 550? Do I hear 550?”

“600!” Another shouts.

“600 to the gentleman in red! But do I hear a 650? 650?”

Asmodeus sits back in his seat, taking another swig of his whiskey. Mammon looks at his friend in disbelief as the unknown sinners below them begin to shout various of numbers for you, “Is she not to the Lustful Overlords taste?”

“Ah, I have so many who do the innocent act. It gets boring after awhile. But if you’re interested…you should buy her.” Asmodeus smirks, shaking the single ice cube in his glass as he signals to the waitress for another.

“She ain’t my type, but—” Mammon gets a sudden idea, “Lucifer should have her. I’m sure he gets off to the Angel shit don’t you your highness?”

Lucifer tips his hat up with his cane, “I am married.”

“To a woman who you haven’t seen in seven years!” Asmodeus rolls his eyes with a loud groan before raising his hand to join the bid, “Lighten up! Good sir, I say 2500!”

“What a doozy! 2500! 2500! Do I hear 3000!?” The announcer nearly jumps from his stool at the amount offered, “Going once! Going twice—!”

“Asmodeus.” Lucifer warned. Not wanting any part in this sinful behavior.

The sound of a gavel rang through the air, finalizing the amount, “And sold to the gentleman in VIP! Your prize will wait outback until you are ready to retrieve it! Enjoy!”

Just like that the plan was working. In just less than five minutes you were sold off like some prize. Your life being in yet another’s hands that wasn’t your own, it was a bit ironic since this life is almost just the same as the one you led on Earth. It was getting harder and harder to distinguish which one was truly Hell.

Be sure to leave a comment & let me know if you want to added to the tag list for this story so you’re updated whenever I drop a new chapter! xo

#𖤐popamollyposts #𖤐popamolly #hazbin lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel fiction #hazbin hotel smut #smut #female reader #love #hazbin alastor #hazbin angel dust

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colourstreakgryffin · 3 months

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HELLO! If you are taking requests can you do a Dazai Osamu! Reader with Alastor, Lucifer and Husk? Both romantic and platonic please. If you are uncomfy with it its perfectly fine!

Hehe! Okay. I actually haven’t gotten Lucifer or Husk yet and I like both of ‘em! I’ve written about this character before, Dazai Osamu but since it’s different, I’ll try it but i am sorry, I can’t manage over six over six-to-seven headcanons for the three boys in both platonic and romantic so just romantic it is! I hope that’s okay!

Alastor

Romantic

Alastor feels like he has to have you on a leash 24/7 and whilst it’s annoying, he wouldn’t mind being near you all the time. You’re a cunning and sophisticated person but you’re also quite suicidal and lazy at times so he has to have a eye on you all the time to ensure he won’t walk into you trying to make a joke, out of stabbing yourself

Alastor is quite protective. You’re a suicidal maniac and you even openly say to him you want to properly die with him, die with a handsome man and he is repulsed by this idea so he has to always cling you onto him to control your very bad habits and bad mannerisms. He will get you over them eventually, as your boyfriend, he cares about your health and he is thankful that you reciprocate

Alastor is glad when you’re more into your funny, caring state. When you’re more of an approachable and good person. Because then, it’s a golden opportunity to bond with you and not act as your damn suicide prevention police. He much prefers when you’re not fantasising and being picky about how you get erased then fail to complete these processes

Alastor’s quite impressed by your skills. You’re the strongest and youngest mafia leader back in your human life and your current sinner life so you have the passion you act you don’t and you’re more mature then you behave as. He is proud when he can watch you take charge and lead around the Hotel with your own knowledgeable being the main guide

Lucifer

Romantic

Lucifer is a goofy sweetheart so you bet your ass that he is very good at keeping you passive and giggling, away from your dark mind. You’re always smiling and joking around with the King of Hell since he can handle you very well. He is as caring but he treats you like you’re made of glass. Something he won’t stop doing until your obsession over suicide dies out

Lucifer likes how mysterious you can be. You’re not entirely open, which he understands whilst being immensely open himself. He will just have to win your trust and your ability to express yourself over time as your new partner. You’re dark and enigmatic, if not the opposite of Lucifer and it’s a wonder why he likes you so much and he could write a book about why he likes you

Lucifer loves how committed and willing you are. You’ll do even the most shady things for him and he always feels both extreme pride and the extreme desire to scoop you up in his mighty six wings to kiss your face off. You’re so loyal and you do so much for him, it’s not a surprise that he sticks to you like he’s glued onto your hip

Lucifer is actually quite protective to you. He doesn’t want you touching even the smallest weapon, even if you’re an adult as well but because of your mental issues and how suicide trigger-happy you are. At least, you do have a good sense of humour and have a fun-loving side through how much you tease people, it’s adorable! Lucifer does like them, it, for some reason, soothes him hearing you play around more genuinely

Husk

Romantic

Husk is a grumpy, quiet but yet patient and considerate man. He may be older but he is still caring and makes a wonderful partner. Especially for this carefree and relaxed soul, one who expresses their suicidal tendencies quite a lot. Husk knows about your suicidal desires and for that, he has such a sharp’s tiger eye on you

Husk(in reality, of these three boys) is the most healthy to date. He is gruff and emotionless on the outside but compassionate and gentle on the inside, he is a Tsundere at best and he doesn’t mind being stern with you when you’re falling down a rabbit hole or trying to harm yourself like it’s some comedy show. You’re life is beautiful and you need to see that

Husk relates to you a lot, on deep levels. You’re both lonely, you’re both lazy, you’re both basically done with everything but you have each other, you both hide your real selves and your genuine personality under a armour of behaviours, so Husk acts as the proper one for you two. He tries to encourage you to join him whenever-wherever and to try put your wits and intellect to good use. He’d feel so proud of you if you did

Husk always sticks around you. He never leaves you alone, he doesn’t want you hurt so he takes you to bed with him, he cuddles you to his side whenever you’re both walking, he even comes into the bathroom with you. He does it for many reasons, mainly because he feels so comfortable with you

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starrierknight · 7 months

Text

𝟎𝟎𝟐. 𝐩𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

"O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I!" — William Shakespeare, via Hamlet Act 2, Scene 2

MASTERLIST | KINKTOBER 23' | AO3

wc— 7k

pairing— cruel!dom!gn!reader x true form!sub!sukuna

cws/tags— painplay, cbt (ball busting), doubled dicked sukuna, S&M, dumbification, humiliation, subspace, heavy degradation, size kink, voice kink, mutual masturbation, reader is AFAB, handjob, edging, overstimulation, dacryphilia, petnames: for reader “fool” & “brat” + for sukuna “slut” & “loser” & “freak” & “sicko”, porn w/ crack fic plot

Sukuna’s domain was far from inviting, a stark contrast to anything one might deem ‘homey’.

As you surveyed the colossal cavern, its vastness resembling that of a grand cathedral, the support structure caught your eye—towering bone columns replaced the conventional pillars. The entire space, from the ground up to the ceiling, was a macabre creation of bones. The ceiling itself resembled a grotesquely cracked ribcage, a grim reminder of its origins. While some bones were discernibly human, others appeared to belong to unknown and enigmatic creatures, transcending the boundaries of what you had ever witnessed before. The bizarre collection of bones lent an exceptionally eerie ambience, heightened by a peculiar, reddish glow emanating from an indiscernible light source.

At the heart of this bone-laden spectacle stood a towering monument, a colossal mound of bones sculpted into a surreal structure. Ascending the mound was a staircase fashioned from bones, leading to a throne unlike any other—an imposing seat, constructed entirely from an assembly of human remains, awaited at the pinnacle.

Perched upon that ominous throne was Sukuna, the embodiment of malevolence—the King of Curses—displaying his intimidating presence in all its grim grandeur. Even from your vantage point, peering up at him from a considerable distance, he appeared colossal. His physique was a testament to sheer power and artistry, meticulously sculpted and adorned with bulging muscles that defied belief. Four massive, sinewy arms extended from his formidable frame, possessing an awe-inspiring strength capable of pulverising titanium into mere dust with a mere flex of their might.

It’s a shame you weren’t a sorcerer who knew what and who he was.

Summoning your courage, you cleared your throat and shouted up to him, the question cutting through the eerie atmosphere, “Where am I and who the fuck are you?”

Sukuna’s laughter, a deep and menacing boom, resonated through the expansive domain, causing the very walls to tremble and the unsettling echoes to pierce your soul.

"Ignorant fool," he taunted, his voice dripping with disdain. "You dare address me in such a manner?"

You winced, hastily clapping your hands over your ears. "Could you please lower your volume?"

His laughter, a bone-chilling symphony, echoed once more, causing the ground to quiver. "Is this too much for your feeble mortal ears? Come and face me."

His words felt like an intrusive melody, echoing in your mind, a haunting tune you wished to escape.

Surveying the daunting mountain of bones and the seemingly endless staircase leading to his throne, you hesitated. "Uh, no thanks. It's quite a lengthy walk."

Your ears strained as Sukuna mumbled something indecipherable. There was a pause.

"Come and face me!" he thundered suddenly.

"What did I say about the volume?" you snapped.

"Face me!"

"Lower your voice!"

"Come and face me-"

"Can you just tell me where I am!" you yelled back, frustration boiling over.

A groan escaped your lips as you walked towards the edge of the bone mountain, adamant about not getting any closer or ascending those foreboding stairs. Rolling your eyes, you lashed out, sending a nearby skull skittering across the cavernous expanse, its hollow clatter echoing off the walls as it bounced and rolled.

Surveying your surroundings, you tried to fathom where you were and who this exceptionally bossy man-thing-monster could be.

It felt like mere moments ago you were in the familiarity of your home, and then, in the blink of an eye, you found yourself in this eerie place.

Curiosity mingled with the morbid as you picked up a human skull, studying it intently. Before you could react, Sukuna materialised beside you, his massive clawed hands snatching the skull from your grasp. His cold, calculating gaze bore into you, accentuated by a sly grin that danced across his face.

"Mine," he growled possessively.

Startled, you instinctively recoiled from his sudden presence. "Fucking hell! You almost gave me a heart attack."

He prepared to unleash another booming laugh, but the sight of your unimpressed expression made him hesitate, his smug demeanour faltering momentarily.

Clearing his throat, he began, "You, little human, find yourself within my domain."

You snorted, glancing around the eerie expanse once more. "Right. Perfect. Fantastic. That just clears it all up, then."

"I am Ryomen Sukuna, the King of Curses, the mightiest sorcerer of the Heian era, and soon to be your adversary," he declared.

"Oh, joy.”

You took a cautious step back, hands on your hips as you observed Sukuna's monstrous presence from this closer vantage point. His colossal, imposing form bore an unexpected juxtaposition of delicate black line tattoos, intricately strewn across his muscled physique. On each of his four wrists and biceps, ominous black rings encircled the powerful limbs, adding to the aura of menace.

Sukuna's facial features were strikingly sharp and angular, marked by prominent cheekbones and a menacing, chiselled jawline. His teeth gleamed razor-sharp, exposed in a malicious grin that laid bare his brutal nature. One half of his face retained a more distinguishable humanoid appearance, while the other bore a chaotic tapestry of marred skin resembling the gnarled bark of an ancient, scarred tree. His hands and fingers culminated in sharp black claws, a testament to his deadly prowess.

Atop his head, Sukuna wore a sinister crown of twisted, horn-like protrusions, accentuating his demonic countenance. These menacing horns symbolised his dominion over curses, solidifying his reign as the dreaded King of Curses—or so you guessed.

You whistled, gesturing toward his crown. "Seems a bit on the nose, doesn't it?"

Sukuna laughed, a deep and rich sound that carried a hint of warmth compared to his earlier booming demeanour. "It does the job, brat."

Rolling your eyes, you strolled away from him, your curiosity now fixated on the mountain of bones, which you began to inspect more closely, prodding them with the toe of your shoe. "So, why am I here, exactly?"

"I summoned you," Sukuna replied.

"Right. Why me?"

Sukuna chuckled. "Don't flatter yourself. Any human would have sufficed, it just happened to be you."

You let out a heavy sigh. "Were you bored or something?"

Sukuna's multiple scarlet eyes flickered with curiosity, a wry smile playing at his lips. "Indeed, I was."

"It's a bit... How should I put this?" you mused, glancing from the bones comprising his throne to those forming the ceiling and scattered across the ground. "It's a tad grim in here."

Sukuna suppressed a laugh, glancing at the skull in his hand that he had snatched from you earlier, rolling it between two of his hands before effortlessly crushing it to dust, akin to an aluminium can. "I don't see an issue with it."

"I imagine you quite like it... These aren't just your Halloween decorations, are they?" you remarked dryly.

"These are my trophies," Sukuna boasted.

"Of course they are," you snorted. “You couldn’t have gone for Jack-O-lanterns? Black cats? Maybe a ghost or two? Or, I guess you have that covered… Thoughts?”

Sukuna's scowl deepened as he admonished you, "You should show more respect, human. I could kill you."

Undeterred, you crouched down and sifted through the masses of bones from the mountain, selecting another human skull. "So could most things."

"I beg your pardon—"

"Then beg. So could most things," you reiterated, standing up and inspecting the skull in your hands.

You began your ascent up the mountain of skulls, following the staircase that led to Sukuna's throne. Oblivious to Sukuna's growing bemusement and irritation, you oh-so-casually handled the human remains, displaying a level of disrespect that both puzzled and irked him. He couldn't fathom why he hadn't ended you like he had done with countless others. What was it about you that piqued his interest?

In a trance-like state, Sukuna remained fixated on you, watching intently as you climbed the staircase. Every detail about you seemed to captivate him, from the count of individual hairs on your head to the rhythm of your breaths, even the lingering scent of shampoo that trailed in your wake—the scent he inhaled hungrily.

The bones of the staircase crunched under your shoes as you ascended, the sound echoing through the cavern. However, you paid it no mind, your determination driving you forward.

A light chuckle escaped Sukuna's lips as he observed you casually taking a seat on his formidable throne. The audacity and nonchalance you displayed amused him greatly. Your courage was evident, and it only added to your intrigue. He wondered if this confidence extended to various other aspects of your life…

Languidly sprawled across his throne, you directed your attention to the aged, cracked skull in your hand, and spoke:

"Alas, poor Yorick! I knew him, Horatio: a fellow

Of infinite jest, of most excellent fancy."

"Why are you reciting Shakespeare? Just to annoy me or because I'm the only one you can talk to, since the others are dead?" he remarked.

Sukuna leisurely ascended the steps, watching you with an intrigued expression.

You let out a sigh and casually tossed the skull over your shoulder, the clattering sound echoing as it rolled down the mountain of bones. "What else am I supposed to do here? It's awfully dull, isn't it?"

Sukuna tilted his head, scowling deeply as he stalked closer. Was this human calling his domain dull? He felt something stir within him...

"I'll have you know," he retorted, "I work diligently to maintain this domain."

"By collecting skeletons and sitting on your ass all day?" you snickered, unimpressed.

"That... That isn't all that I do," Sukuna defended, his arms crossed, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He couldn't shake off the annoyance of you finding his domain unimpressive.

"I had to defeat plenty of foes to obtain these skulls and bones. I've worked tirelessly for this throne," he asserted.

You sighed as you stretched out lazily on his throne, making yourself at home. "I'll give you that. It's a comfortable seat."

Annoyance surged within Sukuna. How dare you touch his throne, let alone stretch out on it? You were blatantly taunting him with your actions, and he couldn't stand for it. His lip curled in a manner it never had before, his face twisted in evident disgust as he approached you, extending his clawed hands, pointing and clicking with a sinister smirk.

"Move."

You kissed your teeth, a sardonic expression on your face. "Where are your manners? Say please."

Sukuna froze, caught off guard by your audacious response. Did you just instruct him to say please? Did you dare to instruct the King of Curses? His eyes widened in disbelief, grappling with your boldness. He couldn't decipher if this was pure defiance or merely a game to toy with him. Regardless, he found your tone intriguing—albeit unsettling.

You arched an eyebrow, a lazy grin playing at the corners of your lips.

Unaccustomed to such defiance, Sukuna felt a mix of surprise and annoyance. No one had ever dared to challenge him like this. He stared at you, his cold and calculating demeanour returning to his face.

"Move, fool!" he thundered, his voice resonating through the cavern, causing bones to tremble beneath and around you.

“Say please.”

Sukuna's unmarred eyes twitched with a mix of irritation and reluctant amusement. He knew he shouldn't be enjoying this, but he found himself strangely drawn to your unyielding nature.

"Please move out of my throne. Now," he growled, struggling to maintain his composure.

You responded with a hum, your smile curiously enchanting. "Get on your knees and say it."

Sukuna was stunned, his disbelief evident. You were undoubtedly toying with him. He couldn't believe how this exchange was making him feel, his heart quickening and an unfamiliar warmth tingling in his cheeks.

For a moment, he hesitated, then, with a smirk that couldn't be suppressed, he lowered himself to his knees before you. His gaze remained locked on you as you continued to lounge in his throne—like it was made for you.

"Now say please. Say it like you mean it," you persisted.

Sukuna rolled his eyes and reluctantly obliged, allowing a flicker of annoyance to colour his voice. "Please. Move out of my throne."

The smirk on his face undermined the attempt to convey genuine sincerity.

Your eyes narrowed, determined. “Like you mean it.”

He grunted, attempting to strike a balance between irritation and compliance. "Please. Move out of my throne."

There was a faint trace of politeness in his tone, but the insincerity was evident. The reason behind your insistence puzzled him. He couldn't comprehend why you were fixated on this request.

"Why are you being so persistent?"

"Shut up. Don't question me. Say please."

He scoffed, feigning annoyance. "Fine, fine, fine."

Though the act didn't genuinely bother him, Sukuna was growing increasingly intrigued about the reason behind your persistence. He had a sneaking suspicion that your desire for him to say "please" went beyond just his tone. This conversation was taking an unexpected turn, one he hadn't anticipated.

"Won’t you please move out of my throne?" he asked, this time with genuine sincerity laced into his words.

"Keep saying please," you grinned mischievously at him, eyes alight with amusement.

This was spiralling into uncharted territory. Sukuna could feel the warmth creeping up his cheeks as he realised what you were trying to make him do. Despite the unexpected turn of events, he found himself oddly willing to comply, feeling a strange sense of euphoria from the experience.

"Please. Please move-"

"No, no. Just say 'please'. Just that. Keep saying it," you drawled.

Sukuna was momentarily left speechless, captivated by the peculiar request. The amusement in the situation wasn't lost on him, and he found himself enjoying this unexpected exchange.

"Please…!"

He began to repeat the word, his voice growing louder and more resolute with each iteration. The cavern echoed with the booming sound, filled with an unusual conviction. Throughout the exchange, his eyes remained locked onto yours, fixated on something he had never known he could feel—curiosity and a touch of vulnerability.

"That's better," you gently interrupted, your voice inviting softness.

Sukuna paused, considering you. It seemed you wanted him to alter not just his words, but also his demeanour—to become soft and sweet, a far cry from his usual cold, commanding self. He cleared his throat and spoke in a hushed whisper.

"Please..."

His voice, now gentle and honey-like, carried a richness and warmth that sharply contrasted with his typical cold and authoritative tone. He spoke with an awkward tenderness, like his vocal chords had not been designed for it.

Your eyes sparkled with approval. "Good... Keep saying it like that."

Surprised by your approval, Sukuna found himself unexpectedly pleased with how this situation had evolved. The King of Curses adjusted his posture as he knelt before you, accommodating his massive frame for a more comfortable position.

Continuing to repeat the word in that soft, sweet tone, thoroughly enthralled by the unusual turn of events. He couldn't help but wonder why he felt so oddly giddy. This exchange was intriguing, and he found your request strangely alluring.

You hummed thoughtfully and shifted your sitting position on his throne, adjusting to your comfort. A subtle, anticipatory tension hung in the air as you rubbed your thighs together, biting your bottom lip, your gaze fixed on him as he knelt and spoke in that gentle, pleading tone. Sukuna couldn't deny the unique excitement that surged within him.

Sukuna couldn't help but notice the seductive movements of your body, a provocative display that stirred a new sensation within him. He gulped nervously, feeling a newfound exhilaration as he continued to utter that soft word:

"Please... Please... Please…"

The way you looked down at him, your gaze ravenous and hungry, sent shivers down his spine. It was a gaze that suggested desire, an eagerness to consume him whole. Sukuna was gradually comprehending the appeal of this scenario and the feelings it evoked—feelings he had never experienced before.

He found himself oddly pleased by the way you stared at him, as if he were your prey. The sensation was foreign but undeniably enticing. He couldn't quite grasp why this was turning him on, if that was indeed what he was feeling. It was an uncharted territory for him, and you were leading him into the depths of this unexplored realm.

Your face lit up with amusement, and your legs rubbed together in a teasing motion. It was evident that you were toying with him, revelling in the effect you were having on him. Sukuna felt the flush of heat creeping up his neck, a telltale sign of his growing arousal. This was a sensation he had never associated with himself, yet it was undeniable—he was beginning to enjoy this, a lot.

The King of Curses continued to plead sweetly, a rush of euphoria surging through him, a tempest of desires that he was just beginning to grasp.

You tugged at your clothes and spread your legs, exposing yourself to him as you sat on his throne. You licked your fingers and dipped them between your thighs, rubbing yourself as you listened to him begging.

All his eyes were glued to the way your fingers teased your cunt, tracing its perimeter but never quite touching yourself were he would have touch you. If it were him, he would have buried his face between your legs, not teasing, but devouring. He licked his lips, zoning in on the slick of your arousal that glisted on your folds—meaning that him begging had turned you on, maybe even more than it did him. So, that was your game, was it?

The audacity of your actions left Sukuna in a state of disbelief. The line between desire and humiliation blurred as you pushed the boundaries, challenging his self-control. It was an internal struggle for Sukuna—his centuries-old pride warring with this intoxicating, uncharted desire.

He could feel his heartbeat quicken as he grappled with the unexpected arousal that coursed through his veins. The sight of you, unabashed and bold, combined with the teasing laughter in your voice, fueled the flames of his arousal.

His voice, hoarse and shaky, struggled to keep up with the torrent of emotions. The word "please" fell from his lips in a desperate plea, almost a mantra, amplifying the tension in the room.

"Sukuna, you're hard as a rock," you pointed out, the truth of your words ringing through the air.

Your laughter, rich and playful, reverberated through the chamber, filling the room with an infectious energy. It was a stark contrast to the typically stoic and fearsome King of Curses. Sukuna couldn't help but feel a surge of humiliation mixed with fascination at his own arousal.

With your teasing remark, Sukuna's gaze reluctantly shifted downward, his eyes widening as he acknowledged the undeniable evidence of his arousal. Under the baggy cloth of his trousers, he was indeed hard as a rock, a physical response to the alluring power you held over him. He could feel both of his cocks throbbing with heat, twitching in their confines. The arousal was a foreign sensation, and the fact that you were the cause of it left him both bewildered and intrigued.

In this moment, Sukuna found himself ensnared in a paradox—humiliated by his vulnerability yet undeniably enticed by the forbidden, his instincts torn between the desire to assert his dominance and the intoxicating allure of surrendering to this new experience—to surrendering to you.

He had never felt so vulnerable, so at the mercy of his own desires.

The small, involuntary moan that escaped his lips startled him, a clear indicator of just how much you had unravelled him. How embarrassing.

His voice, once firm and commanding, now wavered with need and desperation as he continued to plead. The word "please" took on a new tone, a raw and needy edge. He was no longer the dominant King of Curses; he was a man lost.

Despite this vulnerability, Sukuna couldn't deny the intoxicating allure of the moment. He wanted to hold onto this feeling, this new vulnerability that both embarrassed and enticed him. It was a struggle to admit that he craved this, that he wanted more, that he wanted you to keep pushing him into this unexplored realm. The word "please" became a whisper, an admission of his desire, a plea for the unknown to continue.

"Hey, Sukuna? Why don't you touch yourself, hm?" you mused in a breathy voice.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me. Do as you're told."

Sukuna's breath hitched at your words, the unexpected request sending a surge of heat through his veins. It was a daring proposition, one that caught him off guard, yet the enticing tone of your voice pushed his desire higher. He was torn between the embarrassment of this unfamiliar vulnerability and the overpowering need to submit to your words.

He hesitated, struggling to reconcile his pride with the intoxicating allure of your command. Touching himself was an act he had never considered, a realm he had never ventured into. But the pull of your dominance was too strong to resist.

Summoning his willpower, he shifted slightly, his hands inching towards himself. The air was charged with anticipation as he grappled with the embarrassment and excitement that warred within him. He swallowed hard.

"Say please," he challenged.

Sukuna's challenge was met with amusement in your eyes, your laughter echoing through the chamber. He couldn't help but feel a rush of frustration and fascination at your commanding presence. How had a mere human managed to exert such control over the King of Curses?

"Oh, come on. Look at yourself. I'm sitting on your throne getting off with you kneeling before me, begging. Do as you're told."

Your words, dripping with confidence and authority, sent a surge of heat to his cheeks. His own pride clashed with the intoxicating allure of your dominance. The way you spoke to him, the way you commanded him—it was undeniably hot, a sensation he was both frustrated and intrigued by.

The word "please" left his lips almost like a whine, a testament to the power you held over him. His gaze remained locked on yours, his eyes filled with a mixture of frustration, vulnerability, and longing. You were indeed torturing him.

"Be good for me, and touch yourself,” you said in a dangerous whisper as you rubbed yourself.

You dipped a finger inside yourself and moaned, a lazy smile on your face. You bucked into your hand as you touched yourself on his throne, putting on a show for him. His mouth watered as he pictured how it must feel inside you—slick and warm and tight—and God, what he wouldn’t give to feel it for himself.

Sukuna was both infuriated and captivated by your brazen display The way you moaned and smiled lazily, openly touching yourself, was a challenge to his self-control. But he was compelled to obey, to succumb to your desires and the intoxicating dominance you wielded.

He followed your command, tugging down his trousers and exposing himself to your gaze. His hands, large and powerful, hesitantly moved to touch himself, fingers grazing over his arousal.

His huge, domineering hands wrapped around his cocks, stroking the lengths of them and he gasped. Why was this more intense than any battle? A better thrill than killing? He bit hit lip, eyes drawn to and fascinated by his own body’s reaction to you and how milky white pre drooled down from his slits. How, with every stroke of his hands, his back archer and he bucked into his own touch.

His eyes fluttered shut as he grappled with this new experience, letting himself be consumed by the heady mix of desire and submission. The act was both mortifying and exhilarating, and all the while, he was acutely aware of your eyes on him, your presence commanding and beguiling.

He couldn't believe that all of this was coming from your voice. His eyes were glued to between your legs, his gaze never leaving yours as he continued to touch himself. Your own hungry eyes latched onto both of his huge, aching dicks as he played with himself. Everything about Sukuna was overwhelming, from his power to his body to his lust. You found yourself admitting to your own curiosity as you drank in the sight of them; The sight of them dripping and flushed and how almost swollen his balls looked with cum that hand’t been released.

Your moans and groans seemed to echo in unison, creating a symphony of desire that filled the chamber. Sukuna was increasingly lost in the overwhelming sensations that coursed through him. The word "please" left his lips in a chorus of longing, each repetition pushing him deeper into submission.

His focus had shifted entirely, the initial intent of getting you off his throne fading into obscurity. His gaze remained fixed on your intimate display, his arousal building with every touch and sound that emanated from both of you. The control you held over him was both infuriating and irresistible, a feeling he couldn't quite comprehend but was unwilling to resist. As the moments passed, he found himself yearning for more, wanting this sensation to continue, to deepen, to consume him entirely.

The clash between his innate desire for power and this newfound intoxicating submission was tearing at the fabric of his being. The strength he prided himself on was now overshadowed by a longing to surrender to your every command.

Your moans were like a siren's call, drawing him deeper into the realm of obedience and desire. He felt a vulnerability he had never known, as if his very essence was being reshaped. He wanted to rebel, to assert his dominance, but your dominion over him was undeniable. Each moan you released seemed to pierce through his defences, leaving him trembling and on the verge of shattering—a cold bullet to his cursed, beating heart.

His breath was uneven, his voice cracking with need as he continued to repeat the word "please". It was a punishment he secretly craved, an experience that left him teetering on the edge, yearning for more of this torment.

"You should see yourself, Sukuna. Kneeling before me and touching yourself so desperately... Poor thing. I almost feel bad for you," you moaned.

Your words washed over Sukuna like a tidal wave, a symphony of desire and humiliation that left him gasping for breath. The sharp pain in his chest only served to intensify the sensations that coursed through him. The way you continued to toy with him, to humiliate him, sent shivers of both pleasure and torment down his spine. It left him feeling both broken and intoxicated, aching for the next command, the next word that would bind him even further to your will.

"Go on. Tell me how pathetic you are."

The admission felt like a double-edged sword, cutting through Sukuna's pride and ego, yet at the same time igniting a fire within him. He had never felt so exposed, so vulnerable, and he was both repelled and drawn to this feeling. His voice trembled with shame and arousal as he echoed the words you demanded of him.

"I'm pathetic... You're so much better than me... I'm so pathetic..."

The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his humiliation. He was laying bare his weaknesses, succumbing to the reality of his own desires. Each syllable was a confession that he wanted more, even if it hurt.

You laughed at him. "Aw, I bet you wish I was touching you, hm?"

The shame was palpable, like a physical weight on his shoulders. Each word was like a punch to his ego, yet he couldn't stop himself.

"I wish you were touching me… Yes… I'm that pathetic…"

His admission was barely a whisper, laced with both humiliation and a strange sense of longing. He wanted to resist, to regain control, but it was slipping through his fingers like sand. The battle between his pride and desire raged within him, and right now, desire was winning. The shame was a peculiar thrill.

"I bet you want me to touch so badly that you don't even care if it hurts, right?"

It was an unfamiliar yearning for pain. He had spent centuries as a powerful being, feared and revered, but now he was willingly surrendering to a mere human.

"Yes... I don't care if it hurts. Please... Please hurt me..."

You gracefully rose from his throne, fingers languidly snapping in front of Sukuna's face, a signal for him to rise to his feet. He complied with your command, a sudden flood of emotions rushing through his body. Every nerve seemed to tremble with a blend of obedience and desire, eagerly awaiting your touch.

As you stepped closer, your hands gently found their place on his chest, tracing the contours of his overpowering muscles. "D'you like that?" you murmured softly, your words a tender caress.

His breath hitched, caught in his throat, eyes locked onto yours as your fingers danced across his chest. His muscles quivered in response to your gentle exploration, every moment an intoxicating revelation. Your touch, so light yet electrifying, made him acutely aware of his own body. The tingling sensation of your fingers on his skin sent shivers down his spine, making his breath hitch.

"Y-Yes... I do. It feels... Exquisite," he managed to stammer, his voice cracking under the weight of your gaze.

"You're so sensitive," you observed, your touch leaving a trail of fire wherever your fingers danced. "I wonder how you'd react if I hurt you," you whispered, your voice laced with a mix of curiosity and a dark sort of delight. "Would you still be begging for it?"

His pride warred with his newfound craving, but the latter was undeniable. "Please... I want more," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. He was at your mercy, a feeling that both terrified and thrilled him.

Without hesitation, you kneed him in the crotch, hitting both of his cocks square on.

It was an instantaneous, electric shock of agony that seared through his nerves, leaving him momentarily paralyzed as the intensity of the pain overwhelms his senses. He dropped to his knees with a thump, gasping.

The pain was sharp and stabbing, radiating from the point of impact like a wildfire. As if every nerve ending in the area was set ablaze, sending distress signals to his brain at an alarming speed. Sukuna’s body instinctively recoiled, attempting to protect the vulnerable region, but the pain persisted, gnawing at his insides. The pain didn't limit itself to the immediate area of impact; it radiated outward, affecting his entire abdomen, lower back, and even his thighs.

With each passing second, the pain intensified, reaching a peak where it feels like an all-consuming force, making it difficult to focus on anything else. Breathing becomes shallow and laboured, and waves of nausea washing over him, threatening to push him to the edge of consciousness.

His entire existence was shattered because of you.

"P-Please stop…!"

Sukuna writhed in agony. The once-proud King of Curses now knelt before you, completely vulnerable and at your mercy. His pleas for you to stop were desperate, and he trembled with the intensity of the pain that coursed through his body.

But you weren't done. You wanted to test the limits of his submission, to see just how far he would go for this new, twisted pleasure that bound him to you. Your hand reached out, fingers gently tracing the lines of his face before cupping his chin, forcing him to look up at you.

You laughed at Sukuna and placed your foot on his shoulder, pushing him down so he was laying flat on his back. Sukuna had never imagined he would be brought to such a state, submitting to the will of a human. He was at your mercy, and you were showing him no mercy at all. The proud King of Curses had been reduced to a whimpering, pained creature under your command.

He could only look up at you with desperate eyes, unable to fight back or retaliate. The pain was excruciating, and all he wanted was for it to end.

Tears welled in his eyes, a mixture of both pain and humiliation. "Please... I'm sorry... Please, have mercy..." he choked out, his voice barely audible through the suffering.

As the pain continued, he was losing his mind. He couldn't understand how he had let things go this far. He was so embarrassed by the fact that he asked you to hurt him. He didn't want to feel the pain anymore. He wanted to please you, but at what cost?

"P-please! I want it to stop…!"

"No, you don't. You're sick and disgusting, and you want this."

Another wave of agony washed over Sukuna as you kicked him in the crotch again, making his dicks twitch and drool. He cried out in sheer pain, his voice echoing through the chamber. Tears streamed down his face as he lay there, completely defeated and humiliated.

You were right. He had begged for this, and now he was paying the price for his own desires. His body trembled as he tried to cope with the searing pain coursing through him.

"S-Sick... Disgusting..." he repeated your words, the humiliation sinking deeper.

Each kick was like a dagger to Sukuna's abdomen, the pain intensifying with every strike. He could barely think straight, his mind consumed by the overwhelming torment coursing through him. He tried to beg for mercy, to make it stop, but his pleas were only met with further mockery and pain.

"P-please... It hurts... It hurts so—”

"It hurts! It hurts!" you mocked in a high pitched voice, giving him another kick.

The pain was unbearable. It was like a searing fire coursing through him, blurring his vision and numbing his mind. Each kick felt like a brutal reminder of his vulnerability and how he had let himself be reduced to this pitiful state. He tried to form words, to beg for mercy, but all that came out were incoherent cries of anguish. He had lost any semblance of control, reduced to nothing but a whimpering wreck at your feet.

Yet, in the darkest depths of his agony, a part of him was still ashamed of the desperate need for this torment, the twisted satisfaction it gave him despite the pain. He was a curse, a King of Curses, and yet he was being broken by a human. The irony was a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Stop... Please... Just stop," he managed to croak out, tears mingling with his pain.

The relentless assault left him gasping for breath, tears streaming down his face. He was trapped in a never-ending cycle of agony and humiliation, and there was no escape. Sukuna had never felt so out of control in his existence. He was begging you to stop, begging you to keep going.

You flashed a mischievous grin and ceased your playful kicking. With an enticing sway, you straddled his waist, your back turned to him. Slowly, you traced the delicate path of your nails, tantalisingly dragging them up the expanse of his powerful thighs.

"How's this?" you purred, your voice dripping with seduction.

"Ah... Ah...! H-it's... M-mmh!" His thoughts felt scrambled as he couldn't think anymore.

Your touch sent waves of ecstasy through him. His body quivered in response to the electrifying sensation of your nails tracing his thighs. Each deliberate drag felt like a surge of electric pleasure, setting his lower body ablaze with delightful twitches and shivers that seemed to course through his entire being.

"What was that? I didn't hear you," you taunted playfully.

He struggled to form a coherent response to your taunt. The sensitivity was overwhelming, and every movement you made felt like a magnificent burst of fireworks throughout his body. Every fibre of his being was trembling, and all he could manage was a desperate whimper.

"M-mmh... Ah! It feels... Ah!" he gasped.

"Pardon?" you chimed, feigning innocence.

As if the intensity wasn't already overwhelming, you chose that moment to pinch him, rolling the skin of his ballsack between your fingers, causing a sharp wave of pain to shoot through his entire being. The pain was searing, making his body contort, but paradoxically, there was an undeniable undercurrent of pleasure. The sensation of the pinch pushed him closer to the edge, and a growing feeling of heat surged within him.

"Ah!"

"You're close, aren't you?"

A deep blush now coloured his cheeks, an undeniable testament to his arousal. He couldn't deny it any longer—being pinched in such a way ignited an intense mixture of sensations within him. The pain, sharp and intense, coexisted with an overwhelming pleasure that seemed to radiate through every fibre of his being.

"Y-yes... I'm close... I-"

Sukuna's body jerked and tensed as a slap of your hand sent waves of pain and pleasure coursing through him, making his cocks sway in the air pitifully. Your taunts only fueled the fire within him, igniting a longing he couldn't deny. He was a king, but in this moment, he was at your mercy, and a part of him relished in the vulnerability of it all.

He couldn't bring himself to respond, the sensations rendering him speechless, his breathing erratic, and his body trembling under your touch and words.

"Yeah? You like that, don't you? Freak."

His moans were desperate, an involuntary response to the storm of sensations assaulting him. The mixture of pleasure and pain had him teetering on the edge of ecstasy and torment. It was a chaotic dance, and he was the unwilling participant, pulled in every direction by the whims of this strange, sadistic human being.

"You're such a loser."

As Sukuna struggled to regain control, a voice in his head told him that this wasn't over yet, that the storm was far from calming. And he knew, deep down, that he wanted to experience whatever came next, no matter how twisted or dark it might be. He was so close… He could feel it. He couldn't help but admit that he was a loser. He was getting off to this…

"You're a loser. A freak. A sicko. It's disgusting and perverted. You're so gross."

He was moaning loudly, and he was shaking in a way he could not control. "You deserve this."

"S-Yes... I-I deserve it! Please…! ‘M a loser! I’m disgusting! I deserve this!"

The words were tumbling out of his mouth, but he couldn't stop now. Every feeling you were giving him continued to push him towards paradise.

He had unlocked a hidden aspect of himself, one that craved the twisted pleasure that came from this dark encounter. The way he responded, eagerly admitting his worthlessness and desire for punishment, only fueled the fire within you.

"You're such a pathetic, filthy creature," you hissed, punctuating your words with another slap to his crotch, making him shudder and cry out.

Sukuna's moans grew louder, and he writhed beneath you, completely at your mercy. The pain, the humiliation, the pleasure—it was all merging into a chaotic symphony of sensations that threatened to consume him whole. He was nodding his head in agreement to your words. He didn't deserve more than the punishment you were giving him. He was pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.

And then it hit him.

As his body convulsed and trembled, he felt the flood of emotions he had never allowed himself to experience before. The boundaries he had erected around his desires and vulnerabilities were crumbling, and he was exposed, raw, and consumed by the overpowering intensity of the moment. Sukuna's silent scream echoed in his mind, his eyes rolling back into his head as tears fell and streaked his face, snot dripping from his snivelling nose, drool seeping from his mouth with his tongue lolled out.

He came everywhere, ropes upon ropes of cum spurting from his cocks, thick and oozing and staining your hands and his flushed skin. His ambodmen flexed and trembled as he came, and his thighs rubbed together, veins bulging. Your hands left his balls and wrapped around each length, stroking and pumping out every last drop as he writhed and bucked into your touch. You marvellevd at the sheer amount of mess he could make as it clung to your fingers and slicked up your palms with each stoke.

Sukuna's claws dug into the ground, leaving deep gouges in the bone flooring as he sought some form of grounding in the midst of this tumultuous experience. The pain and pleasure had taken him to the brink of his own understanding, and his body's response was primal, uncontrolled, and desperate. He was no longer the composed and collected King of Curses but a mindless creature enslaved to pleasure, and enslaved to you.

You couldn't help but laugh, a triumphant grin dancing across your lips as you gazed down. "What are you, Sukuna?"

He could only drool and babble incoherently, his body squirming and writhing in response to the overwhelming sensations. The once-mighty King of Curses had been reduced to a quivering mess, incapable of forming a coherent reply. As you observed him, the power you held over him was undeniably evident, but it left you somewhat exasperated. You had expected more of a challenge from the formidable King of Curses, yet he had proven to be surprisingly vulnerable when faced with his own desires.

You paused, letting the weight of the moment sink in, and then decided to finish the sentence yourself. "Nothing. You are nothing to me," you declared, the words dripping with finality.

In that instant, Sukuna's eyes reflected a complex mix of emotions—humiliation, anger, and a hint of something resembling realisation. The reality of his vulnerability stung, and the acknowledgement of his insignificance cut deeper than any physical pain ever could.

Nothing.

a/n: this was written with spite. revenge for chapter 236. bitch. and yes, you will be exposed to silly little literature quotes n references. i will force feed you intertextuality. hugs n kisses to @lunerabo for some of the dialogue hehe. Happy Kinktober!!! :3

this work belongs to STARRIERKNIGHT . please refrain from plagiarising any of my works and do not repost/translate/modify/copy onto any platforms.

#꒰ ✎ ꒱ — tongues in trees #꒰ ✑ ꒱ — they kiss consume #꒰ 🝮 ꒱ — kt 23 #sub ryomen sukuna #sub sukuna x reader #sub sukuna x reader smut #sub ryomen sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader smut #ryomen sukuna x reader smut

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mosticonicbirdcallbracket · 10 months

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MOST ICONIC BIRD CALL BRACKET: THE FINALE: MOURNING DOVE vs. AMERICAN CROW.

these two combatants need no introduction. they've left a trail of destruction in their wake leading up to this. 32 birds, whittled down to just two.

THE MOURNING DOVE. embodiment of elegance and tranquility. its subtle beauty is a sight to behold. a voice that enchants the soul. a creature of resilience and adaptability. this is truly the peoples' bird.

THE AMERICAN CROW. a competitor that will leave you in awe with its enigmatic presence. it possesses unmatched intelligence, able to solve complex puzzles and exhibit remarkable problem-solving skills. and, of course, the caw. an unbeatable opponent.

#birds #ornithology #mourning dove #american crow #crow #bird call

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finalgirllx · 1 month

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Lorenzo Berkshire rests against one of the worn brick steps in the Middle Courtyard, basking in one of the final warm afternoons of the season. His chocolate-brown eyes roam the perimeter of the busy lawn with an enigmatic expression. This is his resting face when nothing particularly grabs his attention, though he is constantly on the lookout for anything to pique his curiosity.

When you find Enzo like this, as in catching sight of him before he notices you, you are reminded of a familiar sentiment rumored of your Slytherin sweetheart. You brush off warnings of "don't let the lopsided, goofy grin fool you" because you've yet to witness this show of Enzo's menacing side, having only received his showers of affection.

Enzo's stoic demeanor brightens upon spotting you at the far end of the clearing. His grin widens, dimples deepening into his cheeks as your hurried pace brings you closer to him. He rises to meet you halfway, draping an arm over your shoulder to pull you into a tender embrace and gently pressing his lips against the top of your head as a greeting. Enzo's fond eyes warm you up faster than the sun above, rendering the warnings seemingly inconceivable.

However, in a chilling moment, Enzo's gaze falls upon the last bloke who vied for your attention, who happens to be lounging nearby on the grass. You finally get a glimpse of the malice he is capable of once his syrupy-sweet eyes almost instantaneously crystallize into hardened onyx daggers, lethal to any poor soul they're inflicted upon. The tension becomes palpable as you feel Enzo's body tense, his unwavering stare working out ways he could brutalize the sad-sack should he dare bother you again.

Enzo's possessive, protective nature has been evident from the get-go, but you only saw hints of its true depth. Fortunately, his heavy restraint prevents the fury simmering beneath from overcoming his better judgment. Still, if pushed past his limit, he looks more than capable of being just as ruthless as any of his best mates if it means protecting you.

It also helps that your presence seems to be an anchor to keep things from spiraling out of control. You gently touch Enzo's cheek to redirect his attention back to you in hopes of centering him again. His expression softens as he's reminded of the home he's found in another person: you.

#lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x reader smut #slytherin #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader

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decaying-enigma · 2 months

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[Space Core AU]

Danny could see it all.

Where the darkness meets the dance of light, a swirling canvas of stardust and celestial wonders—a symphony of colors, shapes, and energies unfurling across the infinite reaches of space.

Their radiant glow casting an aura that just beckoned him to join.

Cosmic tendrils weaved a labyrinth of star clusters, and stellar nurseries gave birth to new stars.

Nebulae shimmered with ethereal beauty, their wispy tendrils reaching out across the void like ghostly fingers.

Supernovae unleashed titanic explosions, scattering the remnants of dying stars across the cosmos in a dazzling fireworks display of light and energy.

Danny could almost feel it wash over his skin.

Black holes lurked in the depths of space, their gravitational pull so intense that not even light could escape their grasp.

Dark matter, the invisible scaffolding of the universe, weaves its enigmatic web throughout the galaxy.

He could hear the countless echoes, all worming their way into his being and, for a moment, pulling him closer and closer to...

""Danny!""

He fell back into his seat instantly, two arms holding him down, as Earth's gravity once again took hold of him.

Blinking rapidly, Danny shook his head, visions of stars and nebulae sliding away.

Yet not completely leaving his mind.

It took him a moment to remember where he was as he turned to Tucker and Sam.

They sat on either side of him, both having a firm grip on him with deeply concerned expressions on their faces.

They were all outside, at a table nestled in the corner of the (thankfully empty) park, and had been in the middle of eating lunch from a new cafe that Sam had wanted to try.

Or, at least, that had been the plan before he decided that gravity was just a suggestion.

"You okay, dude?" Tucker asked, a hand still holding onto him.

"I'm fine," Danny replied immediately.

But judging by the identical unimpressed looks on Sam and Tucker's faces, neither believe him in the slightest.

And rightfully so.

Though they did let go of him, trusting he wasn't about to start floating away again, they were ready to react if it happened again.

Danny sighed.

"I just got distracted for a second."

"You were floating away." Sam pointed it out, making little wiggly movements with her fingers. "Plus, your eyes were doing that weird galaxy thing again.

"That was just some dust," he lied half-halfheartedly.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, not buying that for a moment. "Yeah right. If we hadn't pulled you back down, you would probably already be out of the atmosphere by now."

"I would've noticed," Danny murmured, his eyes shifting to the side. "...eventually."

Sam huffed in frustration. "So not the point I was trying to make."

"They are super weird, though," Tucker agreed, then took a bite of his giant BLT sandwich. "But still cool, in the way they turn into terrifying black-holes that they look like the endless and cruel vacuum of space."

Danny stared at Tucker flatly.

"That makes me feel so much better."

"No problem!"

There was a brief silence, only for Tucker to put his sandwich back down, showing just how serious he was, and ask.

"But seriously, dude, are you alright?"

Danny looked down at the table, wanting to ignore his friends admittedly reasonable concerns, and absently twirled the straw of his ice tea.

But, eventually, he gave in.

"I already stopped by the Far Frozen to talk with Frostbite," he finally admitted. "Even ran into Clockwork, who was feeling strangely non-cryptic, and asked him about what was going on."

"So, what'd you find out?" Sam questioned, leaning forward, eager to hear what he had to say.

Danny snorted, an impish grin growing on his face. "Apparently, I don't actually have an ice core."

They both blinked in surprise.

The fact that Danny's core, practically the ghostly equivalent of a soul and a fundamental part of their being, wasn't ice this whole time and was actually something different was... a pretty big deal.

Sam asked, both curious and concerned, "So, what core do you have?"

"Frostbite called it a space core, or, as Clockwork referred to it, a piece of the Void." Danny rolled his eyes. "I'm like, 70% sure, he only called it that to be extra dramatic."

"So the ice powers were just...what? The first side effect before the weird eyes and the 'spacing' out?" Tucker joked with a grin.

Danny chuckled at the pun, while Sam groaned.

"Basically."

"Do you know what powers you are supposed to expect?" Sam asked, hoping they would catch a break this time.

"Not a clue," Danny said, shooting that hope down immediately.

Tucker raised an eyebrow. "Isn't there someone in the Ghost Zone you could ask?"

"It's, like, super rare; I mean, the only other ghost I know with the same core is Nocturn," he explained with an annoyed huff.

They both winced.

Despite not currently being antagonistic with the Ghost of Dreams, Danny and Nocturn's relationship wasn't anywhere close to friendly, even by ghostly standards.

And considering most ghosts could beat each other up, possibly even dismember one another, and still be willing to hang out later, that's saying something.

Danny sighed. "Yeah, I basically had the same reaction."

"Are you sure there's no one else?" Sam pushed, looking for a solution.

"Ghost Zone's a big place and leads to a lot of others, so probably." He shrugged. "But, even if Nocturn or someone else was willing to give me advice, it wouldn't help very much."

Seeing the confusion on their faces, he continued to explain.

"Frostbite gave me a whole lecture about it, but it basically boils down to the fact that, unlike most core elements, space cores express themselves so differently that there's no real set of powers that they share."

Sam slowly nodded, understanding showing on her face.

"So, while one ghost with a space core might be able to make black-holes, another might control gravity or even create stars," she continued, a hint of wonder in her voice.

Danny nodded his head in agreement.

"Hey, for all we know, you might get the power to twinkle really, really brightly instead." Tucker snickered loudly, with Sam quickly following.

Danny dropped his head onto the table, not sharing his friend's amusement in the slightest.

The snickers soon died off, as Danny continued to mope.

"It's probably not that bad." Tucker pointed this out. "You already learned to control the ice part of your powers; you'll figure this part out eventually."

"And we'll be right there when you do," Sam added, fully believing they would find the answer eventually.

"Hopefully not too close. Frostbite mentioned a few...unexpected stabbings the first time around," Tucker muttered under his breath, wincing as Sam punched him in the shoulder.

Danny rolled his eyes.

He wished that he shared his friends confidence in his abilities, but he was nevertheless grateful for the support his two best friends were giving him.

Thankfully, the conversation soon changed subjects from his potential new powers, moving on to talk about a homework assignment for school as they finished their lunch.

Danny made sure to pay attention this time, staying focused on the here and now.

Yet, even as he grinned from the sarcastic joke Sam had made, he could still feel the pull in the background.

He could hear the symphony of celestial bodies, the stars, the nebulae, and the infinite reaches of space in the back of his mind, all calling out to him.

Just waiting for the day that he would give in to the urge, and in the moment of weakness, join them forever and always until the end of time.

#dp #danny phantom #dp prompt #crossover #dpxdc #Space core #dp au #danny feton #tucker foley #sam mason

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dewdropdinosaur · 1 month

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I Wanna Ruin Our Friendship

ALASTOR x (F) READER

Summary: You are Charlie's older sister and the pristine image of what a princess of Hell should be. But sometimes even perfect pretty princesses have their secrets.

Warnings: NONE

This was a request from the lovely @fandomfan-102

REQUESTS OPEN

In the heart of Hell, amidst the chaotic streets and vibrant nightlife, stood the Hazbin Hotel, a haven for lost souls seeking redemption. Among its eccentric inhabitants was Alastor, the infamous Radio Demon, a charismatic figure whose mere presence commanded attention. Furthermore, Y/N Morningstar, the older sister of Charlie, the hotel's founder; too commanded the room with her devilish charm and royal style.

Unlike her sister, Y/N was a bit more of what people expected from a princess of Hell. Though by no means was she sadistic or remotely close to some demon’s level, she was not as bubbly or optimistic as her sister. More cunning, reserved, and always dressed to impress; Y/N held power unknown and one that could possibly even rival her father.

Fortunately or unfortunately depending on who you ask, Y/N often found herself drawn to the enigmatic Alastor. Their love, a delicate dance hidden from prying eyes, grew stronger with each stolen moment amidst the cacophony of Hell's chaos. Stolen kisses, lying about laying one's head on the other's shoulder. Whispers of sweet nothings in the back of hallways and sly hand holds.

At first, to the average outsider, Alastor might have been using Y/N for power or station but truly as time wore on; he grew to love her in his own way. Yes, their relationship was not like most but despite their differences, a deep connection had blossomed between them, eventually culminating in a secret engagement under the light of the red moon as Alastor presented Y/N with a heartfelt declaration and a ring.

As fate would have it, soon news spread like wildfire through the corridors of the hotel that Lucifer himself would grace them with his presence. Panic swept through the inhabitants, each scrambling to prepare for the arrival of the feared and revered ruler of Hell. As rumors spread of Lucifer Morningstar's imminent visit to the hotel, tension crackled in the air. Lucifer, the Lord of Hell himself, was rarely seen outside his domain, and his presence promised both excitement and trepidation.

Y/N and Alastor found themselves in a particularly precarious position. While their love burned bright, Lucifer's presence threatened to expose their secret engagement. Yet, they dared to hope that their careful charade would remain intact. On the eve of Lucifer's arrival, Alastor and Y/N found solace in each other's company, stealing fleeting moments of affection amidst the chaos. Little did Y/N know that the carefully guarded secret was about to be thrust into the spotlight by none other than Alastor himself.

On the fateful day of Lucifer's visit, tension hung so thick in the air a cannibal could have taken a bite out of it.. The inhabitants of the hotel stood on edge, awaiting the arrival of their sovereign. As the grand doors swung open, revealing the imposing figure of Lucifer, the room fell into a hushed silence. As Lucifer's shorter but nonetheless dominating figure materialized in the hotel's grand foyer, all eyes turned to him. Charlie greeted her father with nervous excitement, eager to showcase the progress of her ambitious project.

Alastor, ever the charismatic showman, stepped forward to greet the Dark Lord, a charming smile playing upon his lips. Power plays were always Alastor speciality.

"Ah pleasure to meet you sir, quite a pleasure. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name. Though I must say, you are much shorter in real life." Alastor declared with a flourish.

With an annoyed look, Lucifer replied “Who is this? Who is this man? Are you the bellhop?”

"Ah no. I am the host of the hotel. You might have heard of me from my radio broadcast. Or from my fiance Y/N."

If the floor could have dropped beneath Y/N, it would have. The words hung in the air like a heavy fog, suffocating the room with stunned silence. All eyes turned to Y/N, whose cheeks flushed crimson with embarrassment and whose eyes glared at her lover. Charlie's jaw dropped in disbelief, her eyes darting between her sister and the Radio Demon.

Gritting her teeth, Y/N whispered “Alastor…what in the devil are you doing?”

Lucifer's expression remained inscrutable as he regarded Alastor with a raised eyebrow. "Is that so?" he mused, his voice dripping with disdain. "Well, well, it seems my daughter has been keeping secrets from me."

Charlie's jaw dropped in shock, her mind struggling to process the unexpected revelation. She shot a bewildered glance at her sister, who could only offer a sheepish shrug in response.

The spirited founder of the Hazbin Hotel stood frozen in disbelief, her eyes widening in shock at the bombshell dropped by Alastor. She blinked rapidly, struggling to comprehend the sudden turn of events.

"Wait, what?" Charlie stammered, her voice laced with incredulity. "Y/N, you're engaged to...Alastor?"

Husk, the cynical bartender with a penchant for chronic alcoholism, arched an eyebrow at the revelation, his expression a mixture of skepticism and mild amusement.

"Well, I'll be damned," Husk remarked dryly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Guess Hell just froze over." His boss did really have it in him.

Angel Dust, the flamboyant and irreverent resident of the Hazbin Hotel, let out a raucous laugh at the surprising news, clapping his hands together with glee.

"Hot damn, talk about a plot twist!" Angel exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Looks like we've got ourselves a real-life soap opera unfolding right here!"

Despite the initial shock, the atmosphere soon shifted, morphing into a cacophony of laughter and chatter as Lucifer not so graciously accepted the news of his daughter's engagement. After several threats towards the Radio Demon, the King of Hell reluctantly relented though he did stay close to his oldest daughter’s side the rest of his visit.

Alastor and Y/N found themselves enveloped in a whirlwind of congratulations and well-wishes from their surprised friends and colleagues.

As the night wore on, amidst the revelry and celebration, Alastor and Y/N stole a quiet moment alone, their hands intertwined as they basked in the warmth of their newfound truth. Despite the unexpected turn of events, they knew that their love would endure, for in the heart of Hell, where chaos reigned supreme, their bond remained unbreakable. Though Y/N did get payback at Alastor for his little stunt. You can imagine how that went over my dear reader.

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krashoutluv · 2 months

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Ur writing makes me emotional im literally writhing on the floor jason let me take care of u bbg 😭 can u write smth ab him letting his s/o take care of him after a rough patrol? Can be sfw or nsfw

HEHEHEHE THANK YOU ANON!! I GOTT YOUUU

im so proud of this it took long but im literally writing this at 3:49 AM bc of the idea that popped up in my half asleep brain

Taking care of ak!Jason Todd after patrol!! (SFW FLUFFY FIC)

Night after night, Jason Todd would come home to you. Sometimes bloodied and bruised, sometimes frustrated and annoyed, sometimes his feet were dragging and his whole body ached. Tonight he slipped through your apartment window, smooth jazz played so lightly it took him a second to register it. A light in the dining room was on. He could’ve just showered to let the running water tell you he was home, and be greeted with your presence when he came out. But, tonight his eyelids were heavy and his body felt empty. Like a lost ghost, he longed for something that gave him a peace to rest his lamenting spirit. Jason wandered to you, it was second nature at times, he found you sitting at the dinner table working on your laptop.

Your gaze flicked upwards, the red of his helmet catching your eyes. “Welcome back!” You said warmly. Almost in an instant his body felt full, heavy, like he was about to melt into a puddle right then and there.

“Hey.” The helmets voice scrambler hid Jason’s mellowed tone. Slightly frowning underneath it because of its harsh manner, he promptly took it off. After sliding the cold metal off his head, his eyes met yours. You were smiling tenderly at him. Jason drifted toward you, when he got close he felt like his whole body would’ve dropped to your feet and he could in a dormant rest for centuries. As long as you stayed there of course. Hardly noticed how close he stood over you until he felt himself moving down to kiss your cheek. Jason stopped himself, “Can I?” he whispered to you feebly. You nodded to him with that warm smile he longed for desperately. Jason pressed his cold lips to your cheekbone, the sensation of your skin soothed that longing feeling. He pressed another one firmly, helplessly trying to quarrels his yearning soul. Jason caught himself, skin flushed as he dragged himself away.

A sigh escaped his lips and he started turning away,” Would you like one too?” He fixated himself back on you, you were still looking at him lovingly, your finger pressed against your lips, waiting for his response.

Wordlessly he bowed his head back toward you, turning his head for you to kiss his unbranded cheek. Jason wasn’t ready for you to touch that side of him so directly. He didn’t want you to meet the oily black hate, the only other thing that touched his heart, his longing, his ache as comfortingly as you did. The discomfort seeped from him when he felt your plush lips meet his skin, it wasn’t quick, not too long either. In Jason’s mind it was perfection, it made that tar that stuck in his veins seem like a pathetic substitute. It made his breath heavy, all but burdened with a swollen heart. It made him feel untouchable, not in his brutal norm but in a heavenly stillness. It made him scared. That you could take care of him, not just when his body bled but when you filled something enigmatically empty inside him. Something that he could only fill with that hate that he clutched onto like a boy to his mother.

Jason lugged himself away from you. He wasn’t sure what would hurt him more and he wasn’t ready to find out. He sat across from you pressing his callous palms against his face.

“Bad night?”

“Mhm. Something like that.”

“Need anything?” He already got it.

“No.”

He would be lying if he were to say he wouldn’t wish to a star like a child, asking for your ease indefinitely.

i love him☹️

#arkham knight x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #arkham knight x gn!reader #jason todd x gn!reader #red hood x gn!reader #arkham knight x you #jason todd x you #red hood x you #|| 🪼krash responds to u #🪼krash writes fanfic #🪼krash rambles about ak!jason todd #skullkidwithsunglasses

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pinkthick · 3 months

Text

Ephemeral Voices

Pairing: Human!Alastor & Female!Reader (He will love the reader but not in the way you think)

Human!Alastor & Human!Mimzy

Summary: Alastor chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers "I do not know, my dear." he replied, extending a gloved hand towards her. “Care to find out?”

Notes: I do not know what I’m doing but enjoy 😭😭 (Credits to the artist @xixixixi1037 on Twitter)

Masterlist

Chapter one: May I join you?

In the dimly lit jazz club, the air hummed with the sultry notes of saxophones and the rhythmic tapping of drumsticks. Y/N sat at the corner table, her fingers tracing the rim of her whiskey glass as she lost herself in the melodies swirling around her. The ambience was intoxicating, drawing her deeper into the world of jazz.

Mimzy, her vivacious friend and a regular performer at the club, took center stage, her voice weaving through the room like silk. Y/N watched with a fond smile, admiring Mimzy's talent as she commanded the attention of the audience.

Amidst the crowd, a figure caught Y/N's eye. Tall and enigmatic, he moved with an effortless grace that seemed to defy the very essence of the music. His crimson suit gleamed under the soft glow of the stage lights, and his presence exuded an aura of mystery.

Alastor, that was his name, though Y/N didn't know it yet. He danced with Mimzy, his steps synchronized with the rhythm of the jazz. There was something captivating about him, something that tugged at the edges of Y/N's curiosity.

She took another sip of her whiskey, her gaze never leaving the pair on the dance floor. There was a story there, she could sense it—a tale woven within the threads of music and movement.

As the night deepened, Y/N found herself drawn closer to the stage, her heart quickening with each note that hung in the air. Alastor's presence loomed larger, casting a spell that seemed to envelop her in its embrace.

Mimzy's voice faded into the background, replaced by the sound of her own heartbeat as she watched Alastor's every move. His eyes, piercing and intense, met hers across the room, sparking an electric current that sent shivers down her spine.

Their gazes lingered, a silent exchange of recognition and intrigue. Y/N's pulse quickened, her mind ablaze with questions she couldn't yet voice. Who was this man, and what secrets lay hidden behind his captivating facade?

As the final notes of the jazz melody faded into the night, Alastor and Mimzy took their bows, their performance met with thunderous applause from the audience. Y/N remained rooted to her spot, her thoughts consumed by the enigmatic stranger who had ignited a flame within her soul.

In the hushed aftermath of the performance, Alastor made his way through the crowd, his eyes never straying from Y/N's as he approached her table. There was something interesting in his gaze.

"May I join you?" he asked, his voice a velvet whisper that sent shivers cascading down her spine. Y/N nodded, her voice caught in the swell of emotions that threatened to consume her. As Alastor took his seat beside her, the world around them faded into oblivion.

"I couldn't help but notice you were staring, dear," he remarked, his voice a sultry cadence that danced through the air. Y/N's cheeks flushed slightly, caught off guard by his direct acknowledgment. She laughed, a soft and melodious sound that echoed in the intimate space. "Wasn't everyone?" she replied, attempting to mask the fluttering excitement in her chest.

Alastor's smile widened, revealing a hint of charm beneath the enigmatic exterior. "Alastor. Alastor Hartfelt," he introduced himself, extending a gloved hand toward Y/N. The air seemed to crackle with anticipation as she placed her hand in his, their fingers interlocking in a fleeting moment of connection.

"Y/N," she responded, her name rolling off her tongue with a grace that matched the jazz melodies still lingering in the air. "Nice to meet you, Alastor."

Alastor's gaze lingered on Y/N, his eyes betraying a curiosity that mirrored her own. "Are you here all alone?" he inquired, his voice a whisper that stirred the air between them.

Y/N shook her head, a soft smile gracing her lips. "Oh, no. I came with Mimzy," she replied, her words laced with warmth and affection for her friend.

Alastor nodded, a knowing glimmer dancing in his eyes. "Ah. A friend of Mimzy’s is a friend of mine, Miss Y/N," he remarked, his voice tinged with a hint of amusement.

"She's a really good dancer," Y/N remarked, her eyes fondly following Mimzy's movements on the stage.

Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze still fixed on Y/N. "She's one of the only people who can really keep up with me," he revealed, a note of pride in his voice.

Intrigued, Y/N arched an eyebrow. "Are there others?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Alastor chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving hers "I do not know, my dear." he replied, extending a gloved hand towards her. “Care to find out?”

A spark of excitement ignited in Y/N's eyes as she accepted his invitation. Their fingers intertwined once more, and Alastor led her to the dance floor.

As the music enveloped them in its intoxicating embrace, Y/N found herself swept away by the rhythm of the jazz with Alastor as her guide. "I must say, Miss Y/N, you're holding up quite well," Alastor remarked with a twinkle in his eyes.

Y/N, breathing a little heavier, managed a breathless laugh. "I don't know how you're still doing this," she admitted, a playful glint in her eyes.

Alastor, the epitome of grace, chuckled softly. "Years of practice, my dear. It becomes second nature after a while." Despite her best efforts, the fast-paced dance proved to be more challenging than she anticipated. Y/N struggled to keep up with Alastor's effortless elegance, her breath quickening as fatigue set in.

She even stumbled occasionally, her steps faltering under the weight of the rapid movements, but each time, Alastor was there to catch her. “For someone who's not a usually, this is quite the workout." she quipped, attempting to catch her breath.

Alastor's eyes sparkled with mirth. "You're doing splendidly, considering," he complimented as he guided her through a series of spins with effortless grace.

As the jazz melodies reached a crescendo, their dance intensified, weaving patterns of connection between them. Y/N embraced the challenge, determination in her eyes, even as the fatigue started to set in. Alastor sensed her effort and, with a twirl, brought their dance to a graceful conclusion. They stood at the center of the dance floor, breathless but exhilarated. Y/N, her cheeks flushed, couldn't help but smile.

"I must admit, you have a unique charm on the dance floor," Alastor complimented, a genuine warmth in his gaze.

Y/N grinned, playfully rolling her eyes. "Maybe not as unique as yours, but I'll take it."

They returned to their table, the echoes of their dance lingering in the air. Mimzy, observing from afar, joined them with a knowing smile. Her voice cut through the lively chatter of the jazz club, her tone laced with playful concern. "Take it easy on her, darlin'," she chimed in, her eyes twinkling with affection.

Alastor turned to Mimzy with a charming smile, his eyes alight with amusement. "Of course, Mimzy. Wouldn't want to wear out my dance partner too soon," he replied, his voice dripping with playful banter.

Y/N laughed, sharing a glance with Alastor. "I was just trying to keep up honestly.”

Mimzy winked at Alastor. "Not everyone can keep up with this one.”

Alastor leaned back in his chair, a contented expression on his face. "What can I say, just pour me some whiskey, and I will be on the dance floor all night long."

Y/N chuckled, raising her eyebrows playfully. "A man of simple pleasures, I see. I'll remember that for next time."

Mimzy chuckled as she rolled her eyes "Well, well. Alastor, you're quite the dance enthusiast, aren't you?"

Alastor grinned, his eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief. "Guilty as charged. It's hard to resist the allure of a good dance."

Mimzy smiled, pouring a glass of whiskey and sliding it across the table to Alastor. "You know where to find me if you need a dance partner. Now, enjoy that whiskey, darlin'." With a wink, Mimzy returned to the performance area, leaving Y/N and Alastor at the table.

As the jazz melodies continued to fill the air, Y/N reached into her bag, producing a pack of cigarettes. With a swift motion, she took one out, placing it between her lips, and lit it with a flick of a match.

Alastor, watching her with mild surprise, hummed, "Didn't take you up for a smoker."

Y/N exhaled a thin stream of smoke, her eyes meeting his with a knowing smile. "It's a bad habit, I know," she admitted, the smoke curling around her like a veil.

Alastor nodded, taking a sip of his whiskey. "We all have our vices."

Alastor observed Y/N, her features softened by the glow of the match and the ambient light as she nodded.

He noticed her gaze shift towards a clock on the wall, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Something on your mind?" he inquired, curious about the sudden change in her demeanor. Y/N glanced back at him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "Just checking the time. It's later than I thought." Alastor followed her gaze to the clock, realizing that the night had indeed slipped away.

Y/N took a final drag from her cigarette before flicking away the ash "I should probably be heading home."

Alastor raised an eyebrow, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. "So soon? The night is still young, my dear."

Y/N nodded, her eyes lingering on the clock for a moment longer. "True. It's just... I have an early morning tomorrow.“

Alastor, sensing Y/N's impending departure, smiled warmly. "Then allow me to escort you home," he offered, a gesture that held both politeness and genuine interest.

Y/N looked at him, touched by the offer. "That's sweet of you, Alastor. But it's not necessary. I can manage on my own."

Alastor chuckled, his gaze unwavering. "Consider it an old-fashioned courtesy. Besides, a gentleman wouldn't let a lady navigate the streets alone, especially at this hour. It's the least I can do after the delightful company you've provided this evening." He would know that.

Y/N couldn't help but grin at his charming demeanor. "Well, who am I to refuse such a gentlemanly offer? Escort away, Mr. Hartfelt."

As they made their way through the jazz club's exit, Mimzy waved them off with a wink. "You two take care now. See you again, Y/N!"

The city night enveloped them as they stepped onto the streets, the echoes of jazz fading into the background. Alastor's presence offered a sense of comfort, and Y/N found herself enjoying the unexpected turn of events.

As they strolled through the dimly lit streets, Alastor engaged Y/N in conversation, the night air carrying their voices in a gentle exchange. Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the whims of fate that had brought Alastor into her evening.

"Excuse my curiosity, but are you working at the jazz club?" she inquired, her tone gentle.

Alastor's eyes flickered with amusement, and he chuckled softly. "Ah, no, my dear. I'm just a patron who appreciates good music and the art of dance. Although, I must say, the idea of working at such a place is intriguing."

Y/N smiled, finding a shared appreciation for the enchanting atmosphere of the jazz club. "You seem like you'd fit right in.”

Alastor tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes. "Perhaps. I work at a radio station. Mostly a podcast focused on dramas and comedy ," he confessed.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "A radio podcast? That's unexpected," she admitted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I would have never guessed."

Alastor nodded, his enigmatic smile never fading “I reckon you heard of ‘Ephemeral Voices’ from WWL.”

N's eyes widened with recognition. "Wait, 'Ephemeral Voices’? I've heard of that! I never connected the dots until now."

Alastor's smile widened as he took out a small card from his pocket, handing it to Y/N. "Well, now you have a face to put to the voice. Feel free to tune in whenever you like."

Y/N took the card, a mix of disbelief and excitement on her face. "I can't believe I've been listening to your podcast without realizing it was you." Alastor shrugged playfully at that.

As they arrived at Y/N's house, the night air took on a hushed quality, the city lights casting a soft glow around them. Y/N turned to Alastor with a grateful smile. "Thank you. You didn't have to come with me, you know," she expressed, the sincerity in her voice echoed in her eyes.

Alastor's gaze met hers, and he replied with a casual shrug. "I beg to differ. A gentleman wouldn't leave a lady to navigate the night alone. It was my pleasure."

Y/N chuckled, appreciating the chivalry that seemed to be second nature to him. "Well, I appreciate the company, truly. It's been quite an unexpected night."

Alastor's enigmatic smile lingered. "The best nights often are."

Y/N fumbled with her keys, her gaze lifting to meet Alastor's. "I suppose this is where we part ways," she said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

Alastor nodded, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. "I trust you'll rest easy knowing you're home safe and sound.”

She extended her hand, which Alastor took with a gentle smile. "Thank you, Alastor.”

Alastor bowed slightly, a gesture that seemed to belong to another era. "The pleasure was mine, Miss Y/N. Until next time."

As Alastor bid her farewell, Y/N watched him disappear into the night and she entered her home, the door closing behind her.

She couldn't shake the smile that lingered on her lips.

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hartfelt #hazbin hotel #human alastor #human mimzy #alastor the radio demon #human reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x female reader

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agnese11212 · 3 months

Note

Why do you like husk so much.

Husk: A Symphony of Complexity and Warmth

he literally stands out, not just for his visual appeal, but for the depth he adds to the narrative. A character that exudes an enigmatic charm. With his expressive eyes and distinctive attire, he captures the hearts of many.

Husk is like a book waiting to be read - every episode reveals another chapter of his intricate story. His struggles are relatable; they mirror the trials we all face, making him a character that viewers can not only enjoy but also connect with on a profound level.

His fur, painted with hues of brown and adorned with patterns that tell tales of his journey, is reminiscent of autumn – warm and inviting yet filled with the mystery of change. The red band around his eyes isn’t just an accessory; it’s a window into his soul – passionate and fiery.

Every movement Husk makes is poetry in motion; there’s grace in his ruggedness and elegance in his strength. He’s not just viewed as a character on screen but as an entity that lives and breathes amongst us - touching our lives with his unspoken words and unexpressed emotions.

Though Husk may have a rugged exterior, beneath it lies a heart rich with layers of complexity and warmth. He’s not perfect - but it’s in those imperfections where true beauty lies. Each flaw tells a story of survival, resilience, and undying spirit.

In one episode in specific, you can see him try to bring the best out of Angel, because Charlie told him to, but it's like he also kinda went there on his own accord because he knows people are at their most emotional when broken down and his trying to bring out his real self, Anthony, and not Angel with his fake personality behind his act as a pornstar which is very interesting

after they had that intimacy, you can see Husk most of the time near Anthony in some way and he does so many things for him you won't even notice, like pour him a drink when he didn't even ask for one, smile in his direction, its amazing.

In the end, Husk is more than just a character in a show. He’s a testament to the human spirit, a symbol of resilience, and a beacon of hope. He’s a character that is perfect in his imperfections, loveable in his gruffness, and relatable in his struggles. He is, indeed, a pookie bear.

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #husk #husk hazbin hotel #huskerdust #hazbin angel dust #husker #hazbin hotel angel dust #husker hazbin hotel #hazbin husker #husker x angel dust #husker x reader #angel dust hazbin hotel #im not insane over him i swear im very normal trust me #eepy

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xtra7s · 3 months

Text

𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐒 ★ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

pairing: Renee Rapp x Reader

Synopsis: Y/N comes to Renee's house to write more lyrics, having more fun than she thought she would.

content: literally just fluff.

word count: 2000+

masterlist | previous part

Sunlight, unwelcome and insistent, lanced through the blinds, dragging Renee from the depths of a dream filled with unfinished melodies and Y/N's sharp, enigmatic smile. Groaning, she swatted at the offending light before surrendering to wakefulness. The events of yesterday, the tense collaboration with Y/N, flickered back to life. Their creative sparks flew, but so did their barbs, leaving an uneasy truce instead of the harmonious flow Renee had hoped for.

Yet, a melody hummed beneath the surface of her mind, insistent and tantalizing. It was unfinished, a single verse born from their clash, and it held a raw honesty that resonated with Renee. She couldn't shake the feeling that Y/N, despite her aloofness, held the key to unlocking its full potential.

Sitting up, Renee grabbed her phone and sent Y/N a message. It was a gamble, a tentative olive branch extended across the chasm of their differing personalities.

Renee: Coffee and unfinished business at my place? Noon sharp? ☕️

Blinking away the remnants of sleep, she sat up, the unfinished song from yesterday humming beneath her skin. Excitement warred with apprehension; Y/N, notorious for her cool indifference, was coming over to write again.

Pushing back the covers, Renee stretched, the morning chill sending goosebumps erupting across her skin. A quick glance at the clock sent a jolt of urgency through her. Time to ditch the dreamland and embrace reality.

The bathroom buzzed with the energy of her determination. Toothpaste frothed into a minty cloud, the rhythmic whirring of her electric toothbrush chasing away the last cobwebs of sleep. As she splashed cool water on her face, a nervous tremor ran through her hands. What should she wear?

Clothes flew like colorful birds from her closet, landing in a haphazard pile on the bed. Each outfit felt wrong, too casual, too loud, and not good enough for the enigmatic Y/N. Finally, her eyes landed on a simple black and white striped sweater, paired with comfortable sweatpants.

Her phone remained silent for an agonizing hour. Just as doubt began to creep in, Renee's phone pinged.

Y/N: Fine. But the coffee better be good. ☕️

A small smile curved Renee's lips. Challenge accepted.

Makeup was kept minimal, a touch of concealer to chase away dark circles, a swipe of mascara to open her eyes. Her hair, usually cascading down her shoulders, was instead pulled into a messy bun. She looked in the mirror, not the polished star, but the artist ready to create, vulnerability mingling with defiance.

By noon, her apartment buzzed with nervous energy. She had brewed her secret coffee blend, the one guaranteed to jolt even the sleepiest soul, and laid out their notebooks and instruments like offerings on an altar of creativity.

The doorbell rang, and Renee braced herself. Y/N stood on the doorstep, looking as effortlessly cool as ever in ripped jeans and a leather jacket, a scowl permanently etched on her face. Yet, there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes as they swept over the prepared workspace.

"Nice digs," Y/N muttered, stepping inside. Renee detected a slight softening in her voice like the sun trying to peek through storm clouds.

"Thanks," Renee replied, trying to ignore the nervous flutter in her stomach. "Coffee?"

Y/N nodded, accepting the mug with a surprised grunt at the first sip. "Damn, you weren't kidding about the good coffee."

A small laugh escaped Renee, and for the first time, the air felt less charged, a sliver of tension dissipating. They settled onto the couch, guitars in hand, facing the unfinished melody like adversaries about to engage in a duel.

But instead of clashing, their instruments intertwined, weaving a tapestry of sound that surprised them both. Renee took the lead, her voice raw and emotional, pouring the frustration and vulnerability of their collaboration into the lyrics. Y/N responded with sharp counterpoints, her melody echoing the defiance in Renee's words.

Taking a deep breath, Renee picked up her guitar, the wood familiar and comforting in her hands. Today wasn't about impressing; it was about the music, the shared journey into unknown territory. she met her reflection with a determined smile, let the melody begin, imperfections and all.

Renee's fingers danced across the guitar strings, the melody from yesterday echoing in the room. The air crackled with creative energy as she and Y/N exchanged ideas, tossing lyrical darts at the metaphorical board of their song.

"This conversation's classic," Renee sang, her voice laced with a mix of amusement and frustration. "I can predict this shit, line by line."

Y/N nodded, her brow furrowed in concentration, nodding as a smile grew on her face.

Renee strummed a chord, a wry smile playing on her lips. "I like a straight jacket," she sang, "comfortable but confining. Keeps us safe, but suffocates the soul."

Y/N's eyes lit up. "Exactly! That shit for real!"

Renee's fingers flew across the strings, weaving a new melody around the existing chords. "But it feels like it's a little tight," she sang, her voice gaining an edge of finding. "Oh yeah, you're boyfriend's cute"

Y/N raises an eyebrow, hopping in as Renee makes faces of concentration.

"Oh, shit, yeah, he can come too"

"You'll be his in the morning anyway" Renee responds as she smiles at Y/N, placing down her guitar with a sigh.

As they continued their collaboration, the song evolved, fueled by their shared desire to break free from the confines of expectations and societal norms. The lyrics became a tapestry of raw emotions, vulnerability woven with defiance, a declaration of their artistic freedom.

The room was filled with the soft strains of a melancholic song as Renee and Y/N lounged on the couch, sharing a quiet moment. The lyrics, rich with emotion, hung in the air, prompting a thoughtful silence between them.

Renee turned to Y/N, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. "Do you understand the lyrics?" she asked, her voice carrying a sense of reflection as she tilted her head.

Y/N, trying to suppress the subtle flutter in their chest, nodded. "Yeah, it's quite powerful. Each word seems to tell a story, you know?"

Renee's gaze lingered on Y/N, a quiet acknowledgment passing between them. "It's funny how music can capture feelings that are sometimes hard to put into words. Like, it's easier to express things through song lyrics than in a regular conversation."

Y/N took a moment before responding, "True. Music can be a way to say what we might be afraid to say out loud."

Renee, her eyes searching Y/N's face, detected a hint of something unspoken. "Yeah exactly. The constraints of that shit are crazy."

Caught off guard, Y/N hesitated for a moment, then decided to open up a bit. "Well, you know, sometimes lyrics resonate with you more when they mirror your own experiences. It's like the songwriter reached into your soul and put your feelings into words."

Renee nodded knowingly. "I get that. It's like finding solace in someone else's pain or joy because you can relate."

As the conversation continued, Renee subtly steered it towards a more personal topic. "Speaking of relationships, do you ever feel like societal expectations put constraints on who you can be with?"

Y/N, suddenly aware of the weight of the conversation, chose their words carefully. "Yeah, definitely. It's like there are these invisible rules that dictate who we're supposed to love, and it can be suffocating."

Renee sighed, her eyes reflecting a mixture of frustration and understanding. "I feel that too. Being a lesbian, it's like society has this script they want us to follow. But love shouldn't have rules, you know?"

Y/N's heart echoed Renee's sentiment, resonating with the struggle of hiding one's true self. "I get that, I think. Sometimes it's harder for some people to break free from those expectations."

Renee, sensing a shared understanding, placed a comforting hand on Y/N's shoulder. "There are people who understand and accept you for who you are, I think. They're the shit."

Y/N met Renee's gaze, silently grateful for her empathy. At that moment, the lyrics of the song took on a new meaning, weaving a connection between them that transcended the spoken words.

Both Renee and Y/N sat back, chests heaving with creative exertion and smiles mirroring each other's.

A comfortable silence settled between them, the kind that comes after shared creation and vulnerability. An idea sparked in Renee's mind. "You know, writing is thirsty work," she suggested, glancing at the clock. "How about we refuel and keep the good vibes going?"

Y/N raised an eyebrow, a hint of a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "Pizza? It's practically mandatory for songwriters."

Renee laughed. "Nah, something less predictable. What about Chinese?"

Y/N considered it for a moment, then shrugged. "Why not? As long as there's General Tso's."

A quick scan of delivery apps later, they were sprawled on the couch, plates overflowing with spicy goodness. "Game of Thrones?" Renee suggested, grabbing the remote.

"Only if you promise not to spoil anything," Y/N warned, eyes already glued to the screen.

Laughter filled the room as they navigated the treacherous world of Westeros, their easy banter punctuated by groans at character deaths and cheers for unlikely heroes. The initial tension between them had completely dissolved, replaced by a newfound understanding and respect.

The soft glow of the TV bathed the room in a cozy ambiance as Renee and Y/N settled onto the couch to catch up on their favorite show. Y/N couldn't help but sense an unusual tension in the air. Renee, typically confident and self-assured, seemed oddly nervous.

Y/N glanced sideways at Renee, an impish smile playing on their lips. "Is there something you're not telling me, Renee?" they teased, raising an eyebrow.

Renee's eyes widened slightly, and she attempted to play it off. "What? No, nothing. Just enjoying the show," she replied, feigning innocence.

Y/N scooted a bit closer, the teasing glint in their eyes undeterred. "Hmm, spill the beans, Renee."

Renee let out a nervous laugh, realizing she couldn't escape Y/N's playful interrogation. "Okay, fine. Maybe I'm a little nervous," she admitted, looking down, keeping eye contact with Y/N and smiling with her teeth.

Y/N's grin widened. "Nervous? Around me? What are you really, hiding Renee?"

Rolling her eyes, Renee playfully nudged Y/N. "It's not like that! I just... I didn't want to mess things up or say something weird."

Y/N chuckled, enjoying Renee's flustered state. "Mess things up? With me? Come on, Renee, I'm obligated to be here."

Renee couldn't help but laugh at Y/N's playful banter. "I guess you have a point."

Y/N shrugged dramatically. "It's a gift, really. But seriously, no need to be nervous. We're just bitches watching a show."

Renee laughed, grateful for Y/N's lighthearted approach. "You're right. Thanks for putting up with my nerves."

Y/N grinned, nudging Renee back. "Yeah, yeah, Renee. Now, let's focus on the show before I start making fun of you some more."

As they settled into the episode, the playful banter lingered, turning an ordinary TV night into a delightful exchange of teasing and laughter between two friends.

Between bites of kung pao chicken and tense dragon battles, they talked. Not just about music, but about their fears, their dreams, and the things that kept them up at night. They discovered shared passions for obscure documentaries and a mutual hatred of airport security lines.

As the credits rolled after watching too many episodes, a comfortable silence descended. It wasn't the awkward quiet of strangers, but the companionable stillness of two people who had just discovered a connection they hadn't expected.

"Thanks for today," Renee said, a genuine smile on her face. "It wasn't what I expected, but it was way better."

Y/N smirked. "Neither was it for me. But who knows, maybe this collaboration's the start of something."

With a shared understanding that stretched beyond the song they were writing, they cleaned up the remnants of their feast, the melody of their unexpected alliance humming in the air. The unfinished song waited, a blank canvas ready to be filled with the story of two artists who had found common ground in the most unexpected place: over takeout and dragons.

#renee rapp #renee rapp x reader #lesbian #wlw #lgbtq #regina george x reader #the sex lives of college girls #leighton murray #leighton murray x reader

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nodusomnis · 14 days

Text

title: ending scene pairing(s): aventurine x gn!reader word count: 8.6k+ synopsis: a perfect ending, a moment divine. two souls entwined, their destinies aligned.

In the wake of the debacle that unfolded within the confines of Clock Studios Theme Park, Aventurine found himself clashing with a torrent of memories, cascading upon him amidst the tumultuous clash with The Nameless. The encounter with the Emanator of Nihility, Acheron, added another layer to his introspection. He had not anticipated a meaningful exchange with her, let alone receiving the answers to the questions that had long haunted his thoughts, yet remained unspoken.

His mind had been consumed by his mission, driven by a desire to unearth the truths obscured by The Family's clandestine ploys. Yet, beneath it all, lay a vulnerability he had concealed, encased within layers of self-preservation.

Aventurine was a fragile soul, shielded by layers of barriers against the insecurities coursing through his veins. Each layer seemed meticulously etched into his being, a defense mechanism designed to protect his fractured self from further harm. It was as though he had been molded by circumstance, destined to endure until the end.

The specter of Death had loomed large, a tantalizing prospect of liberation from the shackles binding him in place. However, it appeared that fate had other designs, offering him a reprieve, albeit bittersweet. Aventurine had exhausted every resource, staked his final chip and his very essence, to grasp the one elusive prize he coveted above all else—freedom.

The sensation was intoxicating, a long-denied elation flooding his senses as he bid farewell to his former self, Kakavasha. With measured steps, he approached the yawning abyss, a void of darkness and uncertainty where his final gambit awaited. Here, amidst the unknown, his destiny beckoned, and it was within his power to seize it, to forge a new path toward the life he yearned for.

True death, once a tempting prospect, now held no sway over him. He had relinquished its grip on his destiny, opting instead to embrace the unknown with resolve, prepared to confront whatever trials lay ahead on his journey to redemption.

As Aventurine's resounding footsteps echoed through the cavernous space, punctuated by the gentle splashes of water with each step, a voice resonated within his mind, disrupting his thoughts like a sudden thunderclap in the silence.

"Do you believe your luck will never wane?"

Aventurine froze in his tracks. The voice, hauntingly familiar, sliced through the stillness, dredging up memories of chance encounters and shared moments in the Land of Festivities.

It was you, the enigmatic figure he had crossed paths with amidst the opulent walls of a Penacony casino, where the allure of chance beckoned like a siren's call.

In a rare departure from his relentless pursuit of his mission, Aventurine had allowed himself a fleeting indulgence—a dalliance with Lady Luck amidst the glittering lights and frenetic energy of the gambling den. The thrill of the game, the towering stacks of chips exchanged like currency in a high-stakes dance, held him in thrall.

Seated at the poker table, surrounded by fellow players, each with their own tales of triumph and despair, Aventurine reveled in the stimulating blend of risk and reward. The round table, a silent witness to the ebb and flow of fortunes, bore witness to his calculated gambit, his skillful manipulation of the odds.

For Aventurine, winning was not merely a possibility—it was a certainty, as innate to his being as the very act of breathing.

As Aventurine boldly wagered half of his towering stack of chips, each worth a staggering million, the atmosphere around the table crackled with disbelief, leaving his fellow players astounded and speechless. Unconcerned with the monetary value or potential rewards, he sought only the thrill of risk, a sensation that coursed through him like a tempestuous tide, simultaneously exhilarating and unnerving.

Confident in his own luck, he staked his fortune on the game, even with a modest hand of two pairs. Trusting in the whims of fate and the calculated odds, he remained poised, concealing the tumult of anxiety that churned within him beneath a mask of stoic composure.

Yet, beneath the veneer of confidence, Aventurine grappled with the relentless pounding of his heart, the palpitations echoing the intensity of his emotions. Clutching a single chip beneath the table, he clung to it as if it were a lifeline, a tangible anchor amidst the rumpus of uncertainty that threatened to overwhelm him.

"That is an audacious wager, Mr. Aventurine. Are you unequivocally committed to this course of action?" inquired the individual seated across from him, their voice tinged with apprehension.

In response to the incredulous query from his fellow player, Aventurine offered only a sardonic smirk, a silent affirmation of his resolve. "I am certain," he replied, his voice laced with a quiet confidence. "This is but the grand finale of our game—a conclusion befitting of our stakes."

"Is he not one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC? The individual notorious for his gambling addiction?"

"Yes, indeed. His name is rumored to be Aventurine."

As murmurs rippled through the crowd, whispers of his identity as one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC—a figure rumored to be consumed by the allure of gambling—reached his ears. He’s not surprised if they know him. After all, the influence wielded by the IPC was not to be underestimated, its reach extending across the cosmos, its prominence ensuring the preservation of its power and prestige. Therefore, rather than shying away from the scrutiny, Aventurine embraced the spotlight, reveling in the recognition bestowed upon him by the throngs of onlookers.

With a subtle shift of his gaze, he surveyed the faces of his fellow players, noting the flickers of trepidation that danced across their features. It was a sight that brought him a perverse sense of satisfaction, a reminder of the raw essence of gambling—the interplay of anxiety, anticipation, and despair—that fueled his very existence.

As the tension peaked and the moment of truth arrived, Aventurine and his adversary revealed their cards to unveil identical two pairs, setting the stage for a climactic showdown. However, it was Aventurine's hidden ace that tipped the scales in his favor, securing his victory in the final round and solidifying his reputation as a master of chance.

The audience erupted into gasps of awe and scattered applause, their reactions serving as testament to Aventurine's extraordinary luck and skill. Their admiration only added to the weight of his legend, reinforcing the notion of his seemingly boundless fortune.

“Do you believe your luck will never wane?”

Amidst the flurry of excitement, Aventurine's gaze intersected with where he heard the voice. There you stood, a stoic figure amidst the throngs of spectators. Your expression, devoid of the fervor that gripped the crowd, exuded a palpable indifference that set you apart from the sea of adulation.

For Aventurine, accustomed to the praise and criticism that accompanied his every move, your silent scrutiny held a weight far greater than the cacophony of voices around him. It was as if your gaze alone bore the gravity of a thousand judgments, casting doubt upon his invincible facade.

As you gracefully departed from the scene, gliding through the crowd with an effortless poise, Aventurine felt a fleeting impulse to pursue you, to unravel the mystery behind your statement. Yet, before he could act upon his impulse, the dealer's call snapped him back to reality, redirecting his attention to the present moment.

With a final glance in your direction, Aventurine reluctantly tore his gaze away, refocusing his attention on the game at hand. Though your departure left a lingering curiosity in his mind, he knew that the cards had been dealt, and it was time to play his hand.

The following day, Aventurine ventured once more into the hallowed halls of the casino, his gaze wandered across the expanse of the venue, alighting upon a figure seated at a poker table amidst a horde of eager players. In an instant, recognition dawned upon him, for there, amidst the sea of faces, sat the individual he had encountered the day prior.

Without hesitation, Aventurine strode purposefully towards the table, his curiosity piqued by the unexpected reunion. Never had he anticipated crossing paths once more with you in a city as vast as Penacony.

As he approached, he observed the scene unfolding before him—the table abuzz with the energy of the game, the players immersed in the pursuit of fortune. However, amidst the dissonance of chips clinking and cards shuffling, his attention was drawn inexorably to you, seated with an air of composed indifference despite your apparent lack of chips.

It was the same familiar insouciance he’d seen in your first meeting. How funny.

The mocking taunts of a fellow player echoed through the room, directed towards you with a mixture of derision and amusement. Despite your depleted reserves, you remained unruffled, your countenance betraying none of the desperation that typically accompanied such circumstances.

"It appears fortune has yet to favor me," you remarked casually, your tone devoid of any hint of concern.

A ripple of laughter emanated from your adversary, his jeering palpable as he sought to goad you into yet another round of play, urging you to replenish your dwindling supply of chips. Yet, you met his jests with an inscrutable gaze in the face of his provocations.

Aventurine, with a knowing glint in his eye, couldn't help but chuckle softly at the scene. He was well acquainted with the minds of these gamblers, their intentions transparent as glass. It was clear they sought to deplete your remaining resources, confident in their ability to emerge victorious. Indeed, in their minds, the prospect of claiming more rewards danced tantalizingly.

"They will engage in further play," Aventurine interjected, his voice slicing through the air, commanding the attention of all present, including yourself. The seasoned gambler spared no glance for your fellow players; instead, his focus lingered keenly upon you, a fact not lost on the others.

Interrupting any potential protests, he spoke before you could voice your objections.

"Since it appears they lack anything of value to offer, why not allow me to play on their behalf instead? Care to oppose?" The challenge issued by Aventurine lingered, met with smirks and laughter from the assembled men, their eyes alight with greed.

"Well, well, well... I admire your audacity, lad. The more stakes, the merrier, isn't that right?" Their laughter cascaded like a chorus, oblivious to the fact that in Aventurine, they faced a master amongst masters in the art of acquisition.

"How naive..." you muttered under your breath, earning only a gentle touch from Aventurine atop your head, his actions eliciting a look of incredulity from you.

"Regardless, shall we proceed?"

With the deal struck, the game unfurled as the dealer meticulously distributed cards to each player. You observed with keen interest, your gaze occasionally drifting toward the blonde gentleman seated beside you. Sensing your scrutiny, he met your eyes briefly before offering a sly smile, his actions enigmatic yet intriguing.

Furrowing your brow in silent inquiry, you sought to discern his intentions, but he merely pressed a finger to his lips in response.

"Remain composed and observe," his silent directive seemed to convey.

Resigned to his inscrutable demeanor, you acquiesced, allowing him free rein. As the game progressed, the man who had thus far dominated proceedings wore a self-assured smirk, placing a bid worth half a million credits. The others hesitated, yet one figure, the notorious gambler seated beside you, sees this as an opportunity.

"Ah, now we're truly delving into the heart of the matter," Aventurine chuckled, a spark of amusement dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his tinted glasses with a light touch. "Since you seem to relish in the thrill of risk-taking, my good sir, why not elevate the stakes even further?"

His words trailed off, drawing the attention of all present once more, including yours, earning him a quizzical raised eyebrow. You couldn't fathom what he had up his sleeve, but a sense of impending audacity pervaded the atmosphere.

"If fortune favors you," Aventurine continued, his tone laced with a hint of challenge, "I shall generously double all the chips you currently possess."

Gasps and murmurs break through the assembled spectators at the grit of his offer, whispers swirling with tales of his legendary gambling prowess. But, to you, his proposition came as no surprise. You were well aware of Aventurine's penchant for daring wagers, although the sheer magnitude of this gamble caught even you off guard.

"But," Aventurine's voice lowered, carrying an air of quiet authority, as he plucked a single chip from his side and deftly flicked it across the table to the stunned recipient, "should fortune favor me..."

The chip landed in the bewildered man's grasp, his expression a mix of confusion and apprehension as he gazed back at Aventurine.

"You will forfeit all the chips you've amassed from this individual," Aventurine concluded, his gaze steady and unwavering.

Your eyes widened in disbelief at his bold proclamation, a protest bubbling at the edge of your lips.

"Hey—"

"I am the player at present, am I not?" Aventurine's tone brooked no argument, his gaze met yours, a silent reminder that he held the reins of the game.

With a resigned sigh, you bit your lower lip, restraining yourself from interjecting. After all, you weren't a participant in the game at this moment, merely an observer. And within the confines of the casino, such displays of audaciousness were not uncommon. Still, the realization that Aventurine was willing to go to such lengths to aid a stranger only added to the ever-growing meter of outrageousness you held for him.

The atmosphere crackled with anticipation as the man across the table digested Aventurine's audacious proposition. Initially met with disbelief, a subtle transformation overtook his countenance, the contours of his features twisting into a sinister smirk. A chill of foreboding gripped your senses, a premonition of impending turmoil settling like a shadow upon your consciousness.

Amidst the mounting tension, your gaze darted toward Aventurine, seeking solace in his unwavering composure. His demeanor remained calm amidst the tempestuous currents swirling around you, offering little insight into the hand he held concealed beneath the veil of his cards. With bated breath, you awaited the revelation that would determine the outcome of this high-stakes gamble, each passing moment fraught with palpable suspense.

"Very well, let us lay bare our fortunes," the old man declared, his tone laced with arrogance as he motioned towards the deck. With a flourish, the cards were revealed, their secrets laid bare for all to see.

In a swift and decisive move, Aventurine emerged victorious, his triumph resounding with effortless grace. The cocky facade of his adversary crumbled in an instant, replaced by an expression of bitter defeat as he clutched his head in despair. With a rueful sigh, he relinquished the spoils of his ill-fated gamble, returning to you the chips that had once slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

As you and Aventurine exited the confines of the casino, the weight of gratitude settled upon your shoulders like a heavy mantle. Despite the reckless nature of his intervention, you couldn't help but feel a surge of appreciation for his timely assistance. Yet, beneath the surface of your gratitude lurked a nagging sense of wariness, a reminder of the perilous waters into which you had unwittingly waded.

"Thank you for your help back there," you offered sincerely, the words heavy with genuine appreciation. Aventurine responded with a disarming smile, though his subsequent words bore the weight of underlying intent.

"Do not misconstrue my actions as mere altruism. I acted with purpose, not without consideration for my own interests," he remarked, his tone tinged with a subtle edge that sent a shiver down your spine. "Surely, you are aware of who I am."

Closing the distance between you, Aventurine's imposing figure loomed over you, his gaze piercing and inscrutable. You felt the telltale twitch of your eyes and the tightening of your fists at your sides, a reflexive response to the palpable aura of danger that surrounded him.

"This is precisely why I avoid entanglements with individuals like yourself," you admitted, your voice laced with a mixture of resignation and apprehension.

Aventurine's laughter rang out, a melodic sound that grated against your nerves. "But in this instance, you have no choice but to engage, do you not? Now, onto the matter at hand – I seek answers regarding your cryptic statement from yesterday."

Your eyebrow arched in bemusement at his unexpected inquiry. "There was no deeper meaning to my words. I merely commented on your inherent luck, having observed your exploits within the casino since your arrival in Penacony."

Pinching the bridge of your nose, you cursed inwardly at the unforeseen repercussions of your offhand remark. Aventurine's scrutinizing gaze bore into you with unsettling intensity, seemingly searching for any trace of falsehood within your composed demeanor.

"Very well, if that is indeed the case, then I have another proposition for you," he declared, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. Your heart quickened at the implication of trouble brewing on the horizon, yet you met his gaze with steely resolve.

"And what might that be?"

"Be my eyes and ears here in Penacony," Aventurine proposed, his smirk widening into a grin that sent a chill down your spine.

The story of your unlikely alliance with Aventurine had begun. If ever the unexpected news circulated amongst the circles of Penacony, many would find it incredulous that someone of his stature, a member of the esteemed Ten Stonehearts, would place trust in a mere stranger. Indeed, to the uninitiated observer, the notion seemed absurd – a contradiction in terms that defied logic and reason. But, for Aventurine, such trivial matters held little sway over his calculated decisions.

To him, trust was a commodity to be traded with caution, its value contingent upon a myriad of factors that extended far beyond surface appearances. In his world, betrayal and deception were the currency of every world, woven seamlessly into his existence. And so, when he extended his offer to you, it was not born of blind faith or naivety, but rather a calculated gamble rooted in the certainty of his own capabilities.

He knew, with certainty, that even if you were to betray him or fabricate falsehoods in his presence, he possessed the keen intellect and astute intuition to discern truth from lies. In his eyes, you were but a pawn in his grand scheme – a pawn whose movements he could predict with precision, regardless of the facades you chose to adopt.

However, to his surprise and consternation, you defied his expectations at every turn. Despite your initial reluctance and the aloof demeanor you projected, you proved yourself to be a reliable ally – one whose resourcefulness and ingenuity surpassed his own assumptions.

How did you gather your intel, he wondered? Was it through mingling with the citizens of Penacony, ingratiating yourself into their midst to extract information like a skilled puppeteer manipulating marionettes? Aventurine pondered these questions with a mixture of intrigue and frustration, unable to fathom the depths of your strategy.

Perhaps it was a sense of indebtedness that drove you, he mused. The desire to repay a perceived debt hanging heavy upon your conscience, compelling you to fulfill your obligations despite your reservations. Or perhaps, you were simply averse to owing favors, unwilling to be beholden to another soul, even one as formidable as Aventurine.

Whatever the reason, Aventurine found himself grappling with the mystery that was you – a puzzle whose pieces refused to align neatly within the edges of his understanding. And though he may never unravel the mysteries of your motivations, he couldn't deny the undeniable truth: in you, he had encountered a force to be reckoned with – a fool, perhaps, but a fool whose strength lay in the depths of your unfathomable resolve.

In the bustling streets of Penacony, amidst the cacophony of laughter and music that permeated the air, you continued your clandestine endeavors as Aventurine's trusted confidant. With practiced discretion, you navigated the labyrinthine alleys and bustling marketplaces, seamlessly blending into the tapestry of everyday life in the Land of Festivities. To the casual observer, you were but another face in the crowd – unremarkable, inconspicuous, and utterly forgettable.

Yet, beneath the veneer of anonymity, you carried out your duties with unwavering dedication and precision. Gathering tidbits of information like shards of broken glass, you pieced together the intricate puzzle of Penacony's underworld, all the while maintaining a facade of normalcy to ward off any suspicion that may arise.

Aventurine, ever the astute observer, commended your efforts with a rare display of generosity, treating you to rounds of soulglads despite your persistent protests. You rebuffed his gestures with firm resolve, adamant in your refusal to be indebted to him once more. Yet, despite your best efforts to maintain a facade of detachment, Aventurine possessed a knack for circumventing your defenses, his genuine concern and camaraderie slipping through the cracks of your stoic exterior.

For Aventurine, whose existence had long been steeped in solitude and mistrust, your presence offered a rare glimpse of authenticity amidst the sea of duplicity that surrounded him. Though he wore the mask of manipulation and trickery with practiced ease, there lingered within him a kernel of genuineness – a flicker of humanity that defied the confines of his carefully constructed facade.

Trusting others had always been a precarious endeavor for Aventurine, a vulnerability he was loath to embrace. To him, every word spoken and gesture made was a calculated maneuver, a chess move in the intricate game of deception that defined his existence. Yet, in your company, he found himself traversing uncharted territory – a realm where sincerity and trust held sway, however fleetingly.

As days transitioned into days, and days into weeks, the bond between you and Aventurine grew stronger, shaped within the crucible of mutual understanding and respect.

The vibrant hues of dawn painted the skyline of Penacony's skyscrapers in surreal brilliance, you stood alongside Aventurine at the Dream's Edge, marveling at the breathtaking spectacle unfolding before you. The scene was surreal, almost otherworldly, for how could there be a sunrise in the Dreamscape—a world where reality and dreams intertwine?

However, amidst the awe-inspiring panorama, a sense of anticipation hung in the air, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. Why had Aventurine summoned you to this ethereal realm, away from the hustle and bustle of waking life, with no other souls in sight?

As you gaze upon Aventurine's countenance, a wave of surprise and intrigue washes over you, for the sight before you is unlike anything you've ever beheld. The ethereal glow of the sun caresses his features, casting a radiant halo around him, as if nature itself conspired to illuminate his presence.

His visage, once adorned with the mischievous curve of a smirk, now wears an expression of profound introspection. Those eyes, usually dancing with mischief, now reflect a depth of emotion you've never witnessed before—a blend of serenity and sorrow that tugs at the strings of your heart.

Gone is the cocksure grin that was his trademark, replaced by a solemnity that seems to weigh heavily upon him. It's as if a veil has been lifted, revealing a side of Aventurine you never knew existed—a side that is raw, vulnerable, and achingly human.

Aventurine stands amidst the whispers of the breeze, his silhouette a portrait of contemplation against the canvas of dawn. His golden tresses dance in harmony with the wind, a silent symphony of nature's serenade. But it's not just the tendrils of his hair that sway; there's a subtle dance in his demeanor, a rhythm of emotions that ripple beneath the surface.

In the soft glow of sunlight, his features are painted with an ethereal hue, casting shadows that play upon the landscape of his face. There's a longing, a yearning, etched in the lines of his brow, as though he's searching for something beyond the horizon, something elusive yet tantalizingly close. His eyes, windows to the depths of his soul, betray the secrets he guards so closely, each flicker and glimmer a testament to the complexities hidden within.

You've been tethered to his side, bound by a debt that intertwines your fates in a dance of obligation and intrigue. Yet, despite the proximity, the enigma of Aventurine remains veiled in mystery. He is a man of many facets, a puzzle with pieces that shift and rearrange with every passing moment. Cunning and unpredictable, he defies easy categorization, a riddle waiting to be unraveled.

Through numerous interactions, the two of you have maintained a strictly professional relationship, focused solely on exchanging gathered information. Neither of you delved into personal matters, content with knowing only the basics about each other. This engagement is a singular occurrence, with no desire to complicate matters further. There's a firm boundary between you, each respecting the other's space and avoiding unnecessary entanglements.

In the midst of a tranquil moment, punctuated only by the soft whispers of the breeze, his voice broke the silence, drawing your focus away from the horizon. Without turning to meet your gaze, he posed a question that seemed innocuous on the surface but hinted at a deeper curiosity.

"What brings you to Penacony? Is it for leisure or some other purpose?"

Your response, delivered with a casual nonchalance, betrayed none of the complexity brewing beneath the surface. "No particular reason. Just wandering, as wanderers tend to do."

As you drew closer to him, mirroring his contemplative stance.. But it was his next words that stirred something within you, a recognition of the carefully guarded boundaries you both maintained.

"You're an enigma," Aventurine mused, his tone betraying a hint of curiosity tinged with respect. "I know nothing of your origins, your affiliations, or even the world you call home. You exist as a blank canvas against the backdrop of the universe."

His observation prompts you to turn towards him, a faint grimace touching your features. It's clear that his words have struck a chord, stirring a sense of curiosity within you that matches his own.

"You went snooping into my background?" Your words cut through the air with a sharpness that catches Aventurine's attention.

"And the idea of me discreetly digging into your background never crossed your mind?" Aventurine's tone carries a hint of amusement.

"I had my suspicions, especially considering your ties to the IPC. Knowing you, you always manage to dig up information to give yourself an edge. But I'll give credit where it's due; at least you're forthright about it, even if it does irk me."

"Right now?" Aventurine raises an eyebrow, his amusement growing.

"Yes, right now.”

"But why can't I detect any anger in your demeanor?"

"Because I'm not one to wear my emotions on my sleeve. I prefer to keep them under wraps," you explain, a sense of guardedness creeping into your voice.

Aventurine's laughter rings out at your refusal, his amusement evident in the glint of his eyes. "Unfair, isn't it? You hold all the cards, knowing who I am, while I'm left in the dark except for a mere name and your claim of being a wanderer. But how about a little game?"

Your expression twists in disdain at his transparent attempt to glean information. You see through his ploy and have no intention of playing along.

"I won't indulge your little charade just to satisfy your curiosity about me. Nice try," you retort firmly.

Aventurine's grin widens as he deftly flips a coin through his fingers, the metallic glint catching the light before he catches it effortlessly.

"Such a shame.”

Once more, silence descends between you, a tense pause punctuated only by the soft rustle of the wind. Then, Aventurine breaks the quiet again with a pointed question.

"So, perhaps you know my origin?"

As you locked gazes with Aventurine, a subtle shift in his demeanor didn't escape your notice. His voice, usually laced with confidence and bravado, now carried a hushed tone, tinged with an underlying tremor that uncovered a vulnerability you had never before witnessed in him. It was a nuance that spoke volumes, revealing a depth of emotion that contradicted his stoic facade.

In that moment, as the weight of his unspoken words hung heavy in the air, your gaze was drawn to his features—the striking contours of his face, the subtle symmetry that bespoke a beauty both rare and captivating. It was a beauty that bespoke his heritage, his lineage tracing back to the long-lost race of Avgins, a people now consigned to the annals of history.

The knowledge of his origins colored your perception of him, for you understood the burden he bore as one of the last of his kind. Avgins, known for their exquisite beauty and mesmerizing eyes, had long been subjected to discrimination and extinction, their very existence a reminder of a bygone era fraught with prejudice and fear.

You couldn't fault him for his choice to conceal his eyes behind tinted glasses, for you knew all too well the scrutiny and suspicion that awaited those who carried the unmistakable mark of their ancestry. In every world where difference was met with disdain, Aventurine's desire to shield himself from prying eyes was not born of vanity, but of necessity—a means of self-preservation in a society quick to judge and condemn.

And yet, even as he sought refuge behind his carefully constructed facade, there was a rawness to him, a vulnerability that transcended the barriers he had erected. In his eyes, you glimpsed the echoes of a lost heritage, the silent lament of a people erased from history, and in that moment, you found yourself drawn to him in a way you had never imagined possible. For beneath the mask of his bravado lay a soul as fragile and ephemeral as the dawn, yearning to be seen and understood in a world that had long since forgotten of the adversity.

"Yes, I do..." Your admission lingers in the air, carried away by the wind that brushes past, stirring the stillness that settled over the conversation. Aventurine's reaction is subtle, a scoff followed by a nonchalant shrug, his gaze shifting towards the towering skyscrapers that dominate the skyline.

"Not surprising," he remarks dismissively.

As you watch him, a faint blemish mars the pristine image you've always held of Aventurine. It's a glimpse of vulnerability, fleeting yet unmistakable, like a small blotch of ink on an otherwise clean canvas. It catches you off guard, leaving you momentarily speechless.

But just as quickly as it appeared, the vulnerability vanishes, replaced by Aventurine's usual composed facade as though nothing had transpired.

His sudden question jolts you back to the present, breaking the silence once more. "Do you think life is meaningless?"

It's unexpected, a departure from the usual banter and guarded exchanges between you. For a moment, you're caught off guard, searching for an answer devoid of pretense or artifice.

"Well, if you ask me, maybe it is, maybe not." Your response carries a sense of introspection, reflecting the uncertainty that comes with a life spent wandering the vast expanse of the universe without a clear destination. "I've been traveling aimlessly for many years, letting my feet guide me wherever they please. In essence, I suppose you could say my existence lacks a defined purpose. So perhaps life does seem meaningless."

You pause, considering your next words carefully. "But then again, don't we all have something we yearn for, even in the midst of aimlessness? Whether it's something grand or seemingly insignificant, there's always a longing, a desire to attain or achieve something. And perhaps, in the pursuit of that something, we find purpose."

Aventurine regards you with an inscrutable expression, his eyes betraying nothing.

"What if that something is death?" he poses, his question hanging heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the conversation.

You allow the silence to envelop you, granting it the space to linger between you before offering your heartfelt response.

"If one desires death, shouldn't they cease struggling to stay alive, to preserve themselves? Why endure the effort of self-preservation if death is the ultimate desire? It seems contradictory."

You continue, your words measured yet earnest. "Self-preservation, in itself, suggests a desire to continue living, to pursue something beyond mere existence. And in that pursuit, even if it leads to death, there lies purpose. For what is life, if not a series of pursuits, desires, and aspirations?"

As you continue speaking, Aventurine's attention remains fixed on you, though his mind is a hurricane of conflicting emotions. He finds himself grappling with a sudden surge of questions, an inexplicable urge to peel back the layers of his carefully constructed pretense and lay bare the vulnerabilities he so meticulously conceals.

The landscape before him, though undoubtedly breathtaking to most, elicits a different reaction in Aventurine. Instead of wonder or awe, he feels a deep-seated unease, a gnawing sense of unworthiness that claws at the edges of his consciousness. It's as if he's an intruder in a world to which he doesn't belong, a sentiment reinforced by his own self-imposed exile from the beauty and splendor that surrounds him.

For Aventurine, the harsh realities of his upbringing on a barren, unforgiving world have left an indelible mark on his psyche. He's accustomed to a life of scarcity and struggle, where survival is earned through grit and determination rather than basking in the luxuries of a privileged existence. The opulence of his surroundings only serves to highlight the stark contrast between his own perceived inadequacies and the perceived perfection of those around him.

And yet, despite his inner turmoil, Aventurine's gaze remains fixed on you, drawn to the radiant warmth that seems to emanate from your very being. In your presence, he feels the weight of his self-imposed limitations pressing down upon him, a reminder of the vast chasm that separates him from the world above.

As you stand bathed in the golden glow of the sunlight, Aventurine can't help but feel a pang of envy, a longing to inhabit the same ethereal orbit where you reside. But deep down, he knows that such aspirations are futile, for he is bound by the shackles of his own insecurities, forever consigned to the shadows while you soar amongst the stars.

He is nothing.

He ushered you to this secluded spot, not for another mission or strategy session, but to bid you farewell. The contract that bound you together, the alliance forged through countless endeavors, has reached its natural conclusion. Every detail meticulously arranged, thanks in no small part to your invaluable insights. Now, standing before you, he prepares to embark on the final leg of his journey, a path long contemplated and now irrevocably chosen.

Meeting you, sharing in the trials of your joint mission, has been a rare pleasure. Your presence, marked by spirited banter and unwavering determination, injected vitality into the often grim landscape of their pursuits. Despite the looming risks and the gravity of his objectives, he couldn't help but relish the moments spent in your company.

As he extends his farewell, he acknowledges the uncertainty of future encounters. Though he harbors a wish for another meeting, circumstances dictate otherwise. Your captivating insights and spirited exchanges will be dearly missed, yet he remains resolute in his chosen course, prepared to confront the perils ahead, come what may.

"Well, thank you for your answers. Anyway, I brought you here to let you know that our meeting has reached its conclusion. You've fulfilled your role as my eyes and ears, and now you're free to go about your business," Aventurine stated, slipping back into his old mask—his facade.

You blinked a few times, absorbing his words. Finally, this chapter was over.

"Is that so? I'm finally free," you sighed in relief, stretching your arms with a smile. "Being around you was quite draining."

"It seems I've been a handful, haven't I?"

"Yes, you have. You're insufferable. So, you're ready to part ways then?"

"I do tend to be insufferable, I won't deny that. And to answer your question, yes I am. Thanks to your intel, my plans are set. You've proven quite reliable, considering you're a wanderer."

"Well, being a wanderer does have its advantages. I can gather information without raising suspicion since I blend in with the crowd," you remarked, nonchalantly shrugging.

"You do seem rather ordinary, so you blend well.."

"Excuse me?"

As you leveled a sharp glance at Aventurine, expecting defiance or retort, you were instead met with a sight that stirred a strange sensation within you. His countenance, usually guarded and conniving, softened into an expression of genuine warmth. His eyes, usually veiled with caution, now held an openness that caught you off guard. It was as though a veil had been lifted, revealing a side of him you had never seen before.

His words, spoken with a sincerity that resonated in the air. "How I'd love to be one. To be ordinary," he uttered, his voice carrying a weight of longing and acceptance.

You found yourself speechless, unable to respond to the exposure he laid bare before you. Despite the complexities of his past and the challenges he faced as an Avgin working under the IPC, his desire for normalcy spoke volumes about the inner turmoil he grappled with.

Your own internal conflict is mirrored in the clenching of your jaw, rendering you unable to articulate a response. Yet, amidst the silence, a silent understanding seemed to bridge the gap between you. Aventurine's earnest gaze conveyed more than words ever could, laying bare the vulnerabilities he harbored beneath his mask..

Driven by an impulse you couldn't quite comprehend, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance between you. With a gentle touch, you extended your fingers and playfully poked his forehead, eliciting a look of surprise and astonishment from him. But what followed was even more unexpected—an expression of genuine tenderness gracing your own features, a smile that reached the depths of your soul and offered solace in its warmth. In that fleeting moment, barriers fell away, and you realized that beneath the surface, you and Aventurine were not so different after all.

"You know, if you really wanted to, you could just blend in and be ordinary like everyone else," you murmured gently, finally tearing your gaze away from him. Aventurine, startled, snapped out of his trance.

"Oh, is that right?" Aventurine chuckled.

"Yeah, it's an option," you replied nonchalantly. "Anyway, I should get going."

"So soon?" Aventurine turned to you, surprised.

"Yeah, got some other stuff to take care of, and my debt to you is settled," you explained.

"You wound me," Aventurine feigned hurt, gesturing dramatically. "Our last day together, and you're leaving so soon?"

"You're not seriously trying to guilt-trip me into staying, are you?" you teased.

Aventurine smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

"Alright then," you said, increasing the distance between you two as you walked away. Glancing back over your shoulder, you smirked. "Once you're done with your mission, let's meet here again."

"What?" Aventurine was taken aback, still processing your words as he watched you walk away. You stopped, meeting his gaze.

"Didn't catch that? I said, let's meet again after your mission.” you said firmly, facing away from him as you delivered your final words, arm raised in farewell.

“All you need to do is survive.”

As Aventurine watched you depart, his mind swirled with contrasting emotions. Your parting words lingered in the air, a bittersweet reminder of the connection he feared he might never experience again. Despite the gravity of the situation, he remained silent, resigned to the path he had chosen, knowing that his decision to face his final gamble in Penacony was irreversible.

In the depths of his thoughts, a sense of acceptance settled within him. He chuckled softly, a wistful acknowledgment of the irony of his predicament. The weight of his impending fate bore down on him, yet a flicker of defiance burned within his soul.

With a shake of his head, he banished the doubts that threatened to cloud his resolve. This was his moment, his grand finale, and he would meet it head-on, whatever the outcome. As he stepped forward into the yawning chasm of uncertainty, he braced himself for the challenges that lay ahead, knowing that his ultimate gamble would redefine everything.

Survival or death—there was no middle ground. And as he prepared to face the unknown, Aventurine steeled himself for the ultimate test of his mettle.

Let’s meet again, (Name).

Aventurine's eyelids flutter open, a groan escaping his lips as he gradually regains consciousness. The world swims into focus, the familiar surroundings of his hotel room greeting him with muted hues and soft shadows. Yet, despite the comfort of familiarity, a dull ache permeates every fiber of his being, a lingering reminder of the ordeal he endured in the depths of his subconscious.

As he gingerly shifts his weight, Aventurine feels the weight of exhaustion settling over him like a heavy blanket, each movement a testament to the toll exacted by his nightmarish journey. It's as if his very essence has been drained, leaving behind a shell of his former self, battered and bruised by the trials of his own mind.

With trembling fingers, he reaches out, tracing the contours of his hand as if searching for reassurance in the solidity of his own flesh. It's a small gesture, but one imbued with profound significance—a tangible reminder of his resilience in the face of adversity, a testament to his survival against all odds.

As the realization of his newfound freedom dawns upon him, Aventurine can't help but feel a surge of disbelief coursing through his veins. To think that he has emerged from the depths of despair, liberated from the shackles of his past, is nothing short of miraculous. With his ties to the IPC severed, he stands at a crossroads, poised on the precipice of uncertainty, yet emboldened by the promise of possibility.

But amidst the uncertainty, one thing remains clear—Aventurine is free. Free to chart his own course, to forge his own destiny without the constraints of fate or expectation weighing him down. And though the path ahead may be fraught with challenges and unknown dangers, he faces it with a newfound sense of determination, ready to embrace whatever the future may hold.

Aventurine's body protests as he pushes himself upright, the sharp pang of pain shooting through him like lightning. Yet, despite the discomfort, he manages to muster the strength to survey his surroundings, his gaze landing on the figure nestled on the sofa. At first, his mind struggles to comprehend the sight before him—a flicker of disbelief mingled with a hint of incredulity.

But as recognition dawns upon him, Aventurine's eyes widen in astonishment, his breath catching in his throat as he realizes that it's you who occupies the space in his room. The realization sends a surge of diverging emotions coursing through him, a mixture of surprise, confusion, and a strange sense of comfort.

He watches you in silent wonder, your form bathed in the soft glow of moonlight filtering through the curtains, your features serene in the embrace of slumber. It's a sight that both perplexes and soothes him.

Aventurine's mind races with questions, each one vying for his attention as he grapples with the inexplicable presence of your presence in his room. Did you wait for him? Why are you here? And most importantly, why him? The answers elude him, shrouded in a veil of uncertainty that only serves to deepen the mystery surrounding your unexpected reunion.

Despite the barrage of inquiries swirling in his mind, Aventurine finds himself unable to suppress the tender smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. In this moment of exposure, your presence serves as an anchor of solace, a comforting reminder that he is not alone in this vast and unforgiving universe.

Nevertheless, Aventurine expressed gratitude towards you. Despite your indifferent demeanor towards him and your aversion to getting involved in troublesome situations, you found yourself in his room, patiently awaiting his return, even though the odds of survival were slim.

Aventurine watches as you stir from your slumber, your movements hesitant yet purposeful as you rise from the sofa and approach him with a sense of urgency. His heart quickens at the sight of you, a mixture of relief and apprehension coursing through him as your eyes meet in the dimly lit room.

Your sudden appearance catches him off guard, the lines of fatigue etched into your features a stark contrast to the serene calmness of your slumber. But, despite the weariness that hangs heavy in the air, there is a palpable sense of anticipation, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken bond that binds you together.

As you draw nearer, Aventurine's breath catches in his throat, his gaze fixated on your every movement as if trying to decipher the thoughts racing through your mind. He waits with bated breath for you to speak, but the silence stretches on, punctuated only by the soft sound of your footsteps echoing in the room.

Unable to bear the quiet any longer, Aventurine breaks the tension with a gentle smile, his voice soft yet filled with warmth. "I didn't expect to see you here," he murmurs, his words hanging in the air like a delicate thread connecting them in the darkness.

You remain silent, your expression unreadable as you stand before him, your eyes searching his face for answers that remain elusive. Aventurine's smile falters slightly at the lack of response, a flicker of uncertainty clouding his features as he waits for you to break the silence that hangs heavy between them.

"Are we just going to have a staring contest?" he jests, prompting a weary sigh from you.

"You're finally awake," your voice was calm but tinged with concern. "How are you feeling?"

Aventurine blinked. "Like my entire body's cramped up, and my head's splitting in two. So, basically, like crap."

"That's because you've been out for weeks. You need to rest."

"Do I really have to when I've basically been sleeping for the whole duration of my coma?" he scoffed, earning another sigh from you.

"What I meant was rest like a normal person. Sleep in a proper bed, not in this decrepit bathtub. It's different when you're not in the Dreamscape," you explained matter-of-factly, rolling your eyes. Aventurine chuckled at your bluntness.

"Are you worried?" he asked.

"No," you replied flatly.

"Really? Then why are you here in my room, sleeping like a log?" he teased, and you grimaced at him.

"I'm only here to keep my word."

"Your word?" His eyebrow arched in confusion.

"When I said we'd meet again."

Aventurine's laughter rings out, breaking the weighty silence that had settled between you like a heavy fog. It's a sound filled with incredulity and a touch of irony, a reflection of the tumultuous emotions swirling within him as he grapples with the gravity of the situation.

For him, the realization is nothing short of staggering—that you, of all people, had placed your trust in him, believing in his ability to survive against all odds. It's a notion that borders on the absurd, given the precarious circumstances that had surrounded your parting, but one that now takes on a profound significance in the wake of your unexpected reunion.

As your gaze locks with his, drawn by the unexpected sound of his laughter, Aventurine finds himself at a loss for words. How could he have ever doubted the sincerity of your intentions, the faith you had placed in him even when all hope seemed lost?

"What's so funny?" you asked, puzzled by Aventurine's sudden burst of laughter.

Aventurine's laughter subsided, and he regarded you seriously. "I never expected this. You always manage to surprise me. Are you that determined to ensure our next meeting?"

Your expression twisted in disgust at the thought, which only served to fuel Aventurine's amusement. He laughed even harder at your reaction.

"It seems you're back to your usual self now," you remarked between laughs. "Well then, I suppose I'll be on my way."

But just as you turned to leave, Aventurine caught your wrist, halting your steps. "Oops! Just kidding. You really don't have much of a sense of humor, do you?"

You shot him a glare in response, but he seemed unfazed, his gaze softening as he spoke with a newfound seriousness. His words carried a weight that belied their simplicity.

"You know, I want to become a wave and run anywhere," he confessed, his voice tinged with a wistful longing. "Because even if I get swept away and get lost, I'm free."

There was a vulnerability in his words, a raw honesty that laid bare his innermost desires. It was a sentiment that resonated with you on some level, stirring something deep within your own heart.

"Even if you get lost again," you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "you still will know your way back. You know it yourself, after all, you're still breathing up until now."

Aventurine's gaze softened, his eyes searching yours with a depth of understanding that took you by surprise. And then, almost coyly, he made a request that seemed to hang in the air between you like an unspoken promise.

"Could you stay here a little longer?" he implored, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that debunk his usual confidence.

Aventurine's touch on your wrist sent a shiver down your spine, his thumb tracing a delicate path that seemed to awaken a flurry of sensations within you. Despite your initial instinct to recoil from his unexpected gesture, you found yourself captivated by the gentle caress, unable to tear your gaze away from the intensity of his eyes.

As you met his hypnotic gaze head-on, you couldn't help but acknowledge the sheer beauty that radiated from within those mesmerizing orbs. Up close, Aventurine's eyes were a breathtaking kaleidoscope of colors, each hue dancing in the light like shards of precious gemstones. It was a sight to behold, one that left you momentarily spellbound by its sheer magnificence.

"What? Why do you want me to stay?" you asked, your voice betraying a hint of confusion.

For a moment, Aventurine remained silent, his gaze never wavering from yours as if searching for the right words to convey his thoughts. And then, with a quiet sincerity that took you by surprise, he spoke.

"Have you already forgotten?" he responded, his voice a soft murmur that seemed to envelop the space between you. "You were the one who encouraged me to speak my mind, weren’t you? I simply followed your advice. But truthfully... It's because I desire your company. It's strangely... comforting."

You sighed, feeling the tension in your shoulders dissipate as you contemplated his request. "I suppose it wouldn't do any harm to indulge your request occasionally," you relented, a subtle smile playing at the edges of your lips. "I'll grant you some leeway, considering you appear to be like a patient in bed."

Aventurine's laughter filled the room once more, a melodious sound that seemed to echo with a sense of amusement.

"How lucky I am," he remarked, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he savored the moment. It was as though he reveled in the serendipity of your encounter, finding solace in the unexpected connection that had brought you two together.

As the laughter subsided, he couldn't help but be curious about the circumstances that had led you to his room.

"So, how did you get in my room?"

Your expression turned thoughtful for a moment, as if pondering how best to explain. "Oh, I met this Doctor called Veritas Ratio.”

As Aventurine chuckled at the absurdity of it all, he couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the unexpected twists and turns that had led you to this ending scene, here and now, with you by Aventurine’s side.

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