#mc people are drowning

[astaroth1357]

Don't mind me, just my mind living happily in Lesson 32 for the next some odd weeks.

#man i played favorites SO hard #mammon's not well? oh no! #asmo's acting scary? yikes! #satan's asleep? well shit #beel wont eat? dear god! #levi is upset with me?! #screaming #crying #banging my head against a wall #and staring out the window like a forlorn sailor's wife waiting for a ship on the horizon #mc people are drowning #not now levi is sad somebody get my scuba gear #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me thoughts #obey me spoilers #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me leviathan

[irisbellemoon]

Camilla's being a question mark of a character is sort of the whole point. Like the person who's describing her is a repressed queer guy who's very much not interested in her, but rather her brother, hence the constant comparisons between the two of them.

It's not Camilla Richard wants but Charles and he can't admit that to himself so he projects her brother's qualities onto her with only a few of her actual 'characteristics' told to us. Hence her position in the narrative, which is narrated by Richard, is very superficial and 'soft'. Of course, Camilla was a bigger part of the entire plot (bigger than even Richard) but it doesn't really matter to Rich hence it's not given much thought.

In a lot of analysis about her, sometimes people get a little accusatory towards Donna but the person she chose to use as narrator doesn't really care about Camilla as her own person. So it wouldn't matter how much information was originally written for her, we still would never get a peak to it.

#the secret history #camilla macaulay #does this make sense? #i bet camilla had a personality outside of being 'the only girl in the group' but #richard doesn't care about it #he might hold some friendly affection towards her but it's always drowned out by his desire for yknow charles #I've been seeing a lot posts where people are like why is the only girl in the story a blank sheet donna #and im always like take a wild guess. yeah the narrator is gay that's why #man i wish donna would write about a female mc but if her thing is to write about gay men projecting tgeir gay desire on some poor girl #and turning her into a caricature of the actual person of their desire then who am i to complain #donna does it well too

[etoilesbienne]

i wouldn't say comparing view numbers is taboo? i guess it's just something that's Not done about much and i can obviously see why someone wouldn't want to LOL—but if it isn't in any mean spirited context i don't personally see it as a problem!

TRUE BTW about how sometimes people will have tens of thousands of viewers. on separate streams at the same time 💀 didn't mariana have like 56,000 Viewers (WHAT RHE HELL!!) during the trial at the same time everyone else had like 10k+. qsmp sweep?

YWAH IT WAS INSANE. like from charlies pov i think he had maybe ~15k or so. mariana has had 40-50k views every time ive watched him stream minecraft point blank and like 25-30k everything else. That is fucking insane in terms of numbers. what really got me was the trial and not only did mariana have 50k viewers q had like 40k and roier had like 25-30k? somewhere around in there for those three. and then all of the english streamers were like 2-15k (fit being lowest and charlie being highest) THE DIFFERENCE IS SO STAGGERING TO ME ITS SHOCKING

#asks #mostly im just curious if its because a lot of mcyt english fans have been scared away because of fan behavior or if its just like. the #the spanish mcyt community is just that fucking massive #personally im interested culturally in the clash happening on twitter rn where ill see people against shipping mc characters getting #just absolutely demolished and drowned out by the fact theres so much content of it for qsmp #with the knowledge that shipping cubitos is encouraged/neutral for the esp community and if the esp community is this much bigger #yeah i can see how and why english fans who disagree on that would be mostly drowned out #<- THIS IS ALL JUST ANECDOTAL STUFF BTW if im wrong on anything here wrt the esp mcyt community lmk

[lyriumsings]

btw I 100% blame YOU for getting me into the viperdove if agdjfjs. Sometimes I see you in the notes of their posts and I 🤝

DKSJSJSK thaNK YOU!! i’m glad my legacy seems to be influencing others into the same interactive hell as me lmaoooo I cannOT wait to get more character info, lore, a demo etc im so excited about it!! i have to make a mental effort not to try to doodle out some mcs cuz i still have infamous art and comms im working on fksjdj

#i have at LEAST 3 mcs planned for viperdove #because i genuinely cannot pick a favorite ro yet they’re ALL SO GOODDDD #i’m tempted to give octavia an au there too because their name is octavia and iirc the mc has 7 siblings so fksjfjsj idk if they’re actualll #born 8th tho iDK there’s just so many goood romances im sure i’ll be drowning in mcs fksjdj #asks #answered #i’m so touched that my enthusiasm has inspired other people to check out the things i like #it’s so easy tho when you’re surrounded by amazing writers as artists tho like #they deserve ALL the attention #and i’ll help in any way i can lol #anon

[cinnabeat]

im gonna be straight honest i think half the reason why i stopped reading dgm is bc lavi hadnt showed up in AGES

#he was my fave back then #if you ask me now its kanda tho #i stopped reading around when kanda finally found allen and i was like omg!! <3 #but yeah i stopped reading mostly bc there was so much time in between chapters that i forgot what was happening #also the fact lenalee hadnt shown up in forever either? #also it was getting a little too much depressing for me #thats my reason for stopping reading a lot of things ive realized which realy goes to show how amazing pandora hearts is for managing to kee #keep my interest through tears and all #i think maybe bc hm most stories that get really sad depressing tragic whatever is the lonliness #i think most of those stories focus on a single main character obvs and often the mc becomes isolated in some way #but ph strength was the character interactions and for me it was how even tho oz was the main character there was still a lot of #hmm like it showed so many different peoples povs you know? it wasnt focused solely on one person #so i dont feel like im drowning in angst? also the depressing bits were like. scattered? #i havent thought too hard about it but off the top of my head ph is about healing and acceptance? maybe?? #or idk #i really couldnt tel you what is it about ph that makes me like it so much despite the inherent tragedy to it all #im trying to think of the final death count but?? all im thinking of is break elliot oz and alice??? no wait and oscar too #so in the end its not like fucking everyone died #oh well i guess vincent too but that was in the fucking epilogue and also idc about him too much #omg im really trying to think of other people who died #ECHO omg forgot about my girl echo #i forgot where i was going with this #if i were so inclined i could totally write an essay about the themes of ph but that requires a heart of steel that i do not possess #michi tag #god i would kill for a ph anime i swear

[ghostieyanyan]

I like to stir up some drama for the Yandere twst boys 😈 I always would like to think that what if a few of the boys fell for MC but they turned them down because they already have a lover back in their world. Or their old lover is dead and MC would never love again since they’re still grieving. I would like to see the boys reactions, especially the more jealous and dangerous ones like Floyd, Jamil, Malleus or even Ace

oohhh yess the drama~ we gotta love some good dangerous jealous boys. i bet theyll get mad and they might do something... awful.

~Mc with lover at home/dead~

Yan!Floyd x mc

Yan!Jamil x mc

Yan!Malleus x mc

Yan!Ace x mc

Warnings: drowning, kidnapping, threats, game of cat and mouse?, stalking, blood, broken mirror

~~~~~

Floyd

Floyd doesnt like a lot of things... he doesnt like it when things dont go his way.. especially if that thing makes him work his butt off. a thing like... you.

From the day you caught his eye, it was when you stood up to azul to protect baby seal, crabby, and little mackerel. For one, a magicless human demanding something of azul was laughable, hilarious even. Plus how persistence you were, which was also a great charm he liked, when your little group, plus sea urchin, had get that photo azul requested. even when you knew you didnt have a chance to pass 2 mermen eels, you still got the photo and tricked azul and destroying all his contacts?! you were tough and he loved it.

after that, he tried to get to know you better any chance he got!!

theres a basket ball game and he wants you to come? he will annoy crabby and sea snake, with his poor performance, saying "if shrimpy isnt going, whats the point..?" he does it so much that the entire team goes to the ramshackle dorm, begging you to come to the game. floyd played great and won the match.

if there was a group assignment in class? Floyd will throw a fit and threaten anyone that even looks at you to be their partner. to the point, where the teachers just have to comply to his demands.

if you and your group of first years come to the Louge, he'll shove everyone off to lay on your lap. isnt he a cute eel?

After a while of this, floyd finally decided to ask you out (from Azul and Jade's suggestion because they were getting tired of complains about floyd's behavior).

He asked if you could come with him, outside of NRC. He wanted to show you something. He brought you to the beach shore. the sun was setting and it shine beautifully on the surface of the water. you thanked him for the pretty view, it almost made up for everything he's been putting you through recently.

when you turned to Floyd, he got on one knee and asked... he had a ring! it was a pretty pearl ring that he got himself. he had to go through a lot of clams to find the "perfect one for shimpy"

you were, of course, startled. but you explained to him that you had someone at home and you bet they missed you a lot. you tried to laugh the awkwardness away but before you could apologized again. floyd stood up and pulled out a potion vile? he quickly gulped it down and grabbed you, shoving you into the ocean with him!

when you opened your eyes, you were underwater and he was in his mermen form. he pulls you into a hug, a tight one. you thought it was sweet at first until..- you needed air! you tried to struggle against him and tapping him repeatedly, in a way to say "i to go up for air!" but he just wouldnt move.

"no."

"...?!?!"

"you arent going to that home. your new home... is with me, shrimpy~ we'll make a new home here~"

you tried to struggle more but it was pointless, you were losing air and it hurts. your lungs burned and his grip on you, his claws were digging into your flesh! you tried to dig your fingers into his sides but it was pointless.

you let out a finally gasp before falling limp into Floyd's arms.

~

~

without text

~~~~~

Jamil

Jamil doesnt really get attached to people a lot. everyone always wanted the "great an amazing Kalim," leaving him on the side lines. it hurt a lot at first but now he's just came to expect it...

Even in NRC, kalim still gets the spot light and jamil gets kicked to the side lines.

Kalim wanted to throw a party in the middle of the school week and jamil was in the kitchen. he was studying for an exam coming up and he needs to be "close" if anything were to happen. Meanwhile, kalim was in the main lounge partying with everyone... we know hes not gonna pass...

while Jamil was trying to study... you step in. you both stared at each other for a second... then you asked if you could get a cup of water? Jamil sighs and stood up to get you a glass..

"why are you here..? shouldn't you be.. partying too..?"

"im just refreshing on the material for the exam.."

Jamil hands you the cup and walks back to his spot on the kitchen table. you meekly followed him. on the table there were textbooks, notebooks, and different types of pens and pencils. you looked at his noted and you noticed how neat they were! some words were under-lined and bolded, some had highlights to help catch the eye. jamil noticed your stare and looks up at you.

"is there anything else i could help you with..?"

"o-oh! sorry, i just... your notes look really nice.."

you awkwardly sipped your cup. Jamil rolled his eyes and got back to his notes.

"ya.. its for kalim, whenever hes done partying, hell look at my notes right before the exam and fails the exam anyways.."

he dropped his pen on the table and rubbed his face, sighing heavily.

"haha! that's what ace, deuce, and grim do! out of the 4 of us, i write the notes! deuce tries to, ace doesn't bother, and grim.. sleeps. and with our study sesh, its not like it helps much. as an 'other worlder' i have better grades then they do combined! haha"

jamil stares at you as you laughed and he cracks a smile. its been a while since someone's situation was similar to his.

"hey... do you need any help with the up coming exam..?"

he's voice stammered while saying that... why? you looked at him and smiled. you both spend the rest of the night studying together. this was only the beginning.

now whenever you're alone, jamil will come by to give a helping hand. grim ate all your food? here, he accidentally made extras. do you need help with homework? meet him in the court yard, he'll help. the more he helped, the more his feelings for you grew, he only wished the feelings were mutual.

but the dreaded day came.. you had to return home. he chose that night to finally confess his feelings for you, hoping you'll throw away this vision on returning home and just come home with him.

when you told him that you had a past-lover that died and that you'll never love anyone again. he just snapped.

...!

with blood mix with mirror shards in his hand, he used snake whisper on you and brought you... home. good thing he did this after you said good bye to everyone.

~

~

without text

~~~~~

Malleus

to say malleus had an eye for the perfect is an understatement. from the day he met them, to the silly nickname they gave him, he had fallen hard.

he had to ask lilia for advice on how to charm the perfect. if flowers were too much for after knowing them for a week..? is his gifts in the night too much?

he just had to leave the gifts in your room because you were either not home or sleeping and he didn't want to disturb you. you liked so peaceful when you slept...

he wanted so badly to make you his then and there but he wanted the moment to be special for both of you. for him, he'll get someone who loves him and charish him. as much as he does you. For you, getting a loving dragon fae husband and becoming a queen of the briar valley. youre guarantee a great life with him! you wouldnt have to be hungry or buying the cheapies things that sam could offer. you will eat and sleep and care for like you are royalty because you will be royalty and be viewed with the highs respect, like malleus.

lilia had warned him to not rush this process. humans can be delikit creatures and some can get startled easiely. Sadly malleus didnt heed his warning and malleus choose to confess to you!

He choose a beautiful forest openning. he had a picnic set up with your favorites and he planned it so that you and malleus would watch the sunset and be out there to watch the stars. it would have been perfect... if it wasn't for you different views.

"oh! im really sorry, hornton.. um.. im actually taken! theyre back in my world but i bet theyre problay worried sicked about now. hehe.."

malleus was still... very still. in that moment, he didnt see red like he thought he would... everything just got dark for him. he wanted so badly to just disappeared and leave you there to be lost in the forest.. but he loved you too much for that. even when you ripped out his heart. the nerve you have to act like this to The malleus draconia...

he walked you home that night.. and told lilia what happened.

"oh dear... im sorry malleus. i didnt know someone has already stolen their heart."

lilia was flying over malleus's head, patting it. the head pats werent helping. the only head pats that will sooth him would be from his child of man, apologizing for their silly joke and saying its just a silly human tradition for courting...

"but... if perfect were to be persweaed into staying in twisted wonderland~ their world would... be nothing but a dream, right~?"

Malleus later asked you to stop by his dorm. he wanted to talk about that night. which you were happy for, you got worried when he didnt come to your dorm at his usial time..

when you got there, it was early quiet... no one in sight. you knew your way around so it wasnt a problem but every fiber in your body was screaming for you to go.

When you got to malleus room. he was at his desk writing something.

"Child of man... i have put some thought on what you said on our outing and ive decided to forgive you."

he stood up and walked over you. it never scared you before but him being so close and how its dark in his room, plus his glowing green eyes, didnt calm your nervse.

"ive decided to show you how prefect we are together... youll love the life i can give you in briar valley~"

in your panick, you pushed him away and made a ran for it to the doors. the last thing you heard made your blood run cold.

"Lilia, silver, Sebek.... after them."

"khee hee~ /Yes, sir. /Yes sir!"

~

~

without text

~~~~~

Ace

Ace is a lot of things! Mean, sneaky, and a liar! He likes to tease you a lot. sometimes it fine cause "youre with your friends and hes just teasing everyone" but sometimes hes comments to you feel too... personal..

"haha! perfect, bet no one is looking for you back home! i mean why would they? youre problay useless there as like here."

you grew quiet as your other friends come to your defence from ace's comment.

"well.. jokes on you ace. i do have someone waiting for me back at home! they are sweet and i know for a fact that they are worried sick about me right now! so HA!"

your other friends started to ask questions about your world and this mysterious person that stole your heart. which you were happy to answer their question.

sadly, you didnt notice a sad looking red head as he thought about you returning to this person...

during his afternoon club activities, ace was so out of it, he had to be benched for most the the games...

"aww~ did shrimpy leave crabby high and dry~? hehe~"

"stop teasing him floyd. but really ace.. whats going on? your game play sucks today."

"jamil.. i-"

"hehe~ its because crabby found out that when shrimpy leaves, theyre not gonna think about him at all any more. youll be washed up on the shore, stuck on your back, and shrimpy wont be there to help."

with every word floyd said, he got closer to ace. really digging deep that ace is losing you. in ace's fustrastion, he pushed the two guys away, grabbed his stuff, and headed out..

~

time had past and crowley (finally) gave you the mirror to return home! you were going around each and every dorm to give them gifts and saying your good byes.. but when you were in Heartlabyul, ace wasnt there..? Deuce explained that he problay when out but he'll make sure he'll stop by your dorm to say his good byes..

he didnt come by... and you had to leave without saying good bye to him..

~

it took a long while to get used to everything back in your world and explaining twisted wonderland to your parnter could have gone better. (they were on the fence to bring you to a pysc wraned..). your partner left to get you some of your favorite food that you missed since coming back.

you walked to the mirror that you came from and stared at your reflection.. will your first years be okay without you..? will grim be okay..? you closed your eyes to think on all your adventures, you heard a very familiar sound...

you looked at the mirror and you watched as the mirror ribbles... and then... ace appears.

"hehe~ its been a while, hasnt it? sorry i didnt get to see you when you visited. it just took me a while to make sure your new home.. is ready."

before you could step back, his hands reached for you, grabbing your shirt and pulling you into the mirror.

"i got a nice place for both of us. its a bit far from campus, but for you its worth it~ also~ you problay shouldnt run... or ill make sure you wont have anyone to return to here.."

~

~

without text

~~~~~

#twst fanart #twst #twst headcanons #twst wonderland #art #digital art #disney twst #yandere twst #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst art #twst floyd #twst floyd x reader #yandere floyd x reader #yandere floyd leech #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twst jamil viper x reader #twst jamil x reader #twst jamil viper #twst jamil #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper #jamil x reader #jamil twst #yandere malleus x reader #yandere malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus x reader #malleus draconia

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!

Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.

Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.  

How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.

When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?

Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.

Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.

And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.

Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.

By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.

The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.

Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!

But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.

#twisted wonderland #twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #malleus draconia #twst malleus #yandere malleus draconia

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Show Me How (Pt. 1)

Poly GN! MC x OM! Characters

(TW: Gangbang, Poly, Messy, Orgy??? MDNI - some people requested and I had to try :P, but if y'all want a one on one HC's I can do that seperately)

Intro

You trembled in excitement as Diavolo got off his seat to talk to the manager. You barely caught the words "special room" from the conversation and looked around you.

All of them looked at you like hawks about to feast. You weren't expecting your body count to go from 0 to 11 in one night.

"They're ready for us." Diavolo held out his hand and you readily took it. You felt them all follow close behind as you walked, hot and bothered before you had even taken your clothes off. Some of them, you were too nervous to notice who, brushed their palms and knuckles against your hips and thighs.

The room was dimly lit and the bed looked big and cushy enough for atleast 6 of you. There were couches placed next to big tinted windows showcasing the glowing city lights.

"Don't worry MC, I'll fuck you against those windows so we can see the pretty sights together. And we can be there as long as you like." Asmo whispered, casually caressing your behind before letting you go.

Taking your seat in the middle of the bed, you looked up at them like a innocent little lamb. "So...what happens now?"

Solomon was the first one on the bed, tilting your chin to look up at his towering form. "Since it's your first time, maybe you should start with a human before going up against the supernaturals?"

You nodded. You could hear Mammon grunt in annoyance. "Unfair!" Asmo whined. "Damn your advantage, Solomon!" Satan scowled.

All other protests drowned out as he pressed his lips against your parted ones, slipping his tongue in with ease. You reached out to hold him by the shoulders as he pulled you onto his lap.

"You can be the first to take MC, but I don't think they'll mind us lending a hand, would you, MC?" Barbatos joined you on the bed and so did Diavolo. Lucifer turned towards the windows but he knew he was watching you intently in the reflections.

"You're so... beautiful..." Solomon whispered as he undid the buttons on your school uniform. Barbatos and Diavolo pulled down the sleeves so you were only left in your undershirt.

"Indeed. Even your scent is divine." Barbatos latched his mouth on your neck right beneath your ear. Solomon proceeded to suckle your nipples through the thin cloth while undoing your pants. Diavolo kneaded the other side of your chest while stealing kisses off your cheek.

You were soaked faster than you expected, dripping and ready. "Hold on MC, we need to make sure you're stretched out enough to take him. To make sure it hurts less." You watched Barbatos take his glove off with his teeth and coat fingers with your precum and Diavolo followed suit.

"Ah- AHHHHH!" You moaned out load at the introduction of one finger right after the other. As small as you were compared to them, it took them no time at all to find where it pleasures you most.

Beel inched dangerously close to the bed. "Could I have a little taste?" His eyes were trained on your slick and glistening beads of sweat on your back. You nodded lightly. You felt the bed shift with his weight as fell onto Solomon's chest, your ass hoisted up against Beel's mouth.

"Beel! Wait!" The his warm tongue on your cold skin was already too much and you were still so sensitive from the last act. And it took him seconds to go from gentle to feral animal.

"MC...you taste so good...please just a little more." He pleaded. You had tears of overstimulation by the time Solomon pulled you away from him.

"Alright, alright I think my adorable apprentice is more than ready for me now." He huffed annoyed as he pumped his dick against your stomach. You gasped at the sheer size of it. Your head spun knowing that it's only going to get bigger from here on.

He rubbed the tip against your hole before thrusting. You felt full but he wasn't even half way. "So tight for me...don't worry I'll be gentle." He went deeper with every thrust, slowly splitting you open.

"Breathe...don't tense up, relax your muscles. Just like that." It was almost like Solomon was in his room teaching you magic. You whined as he finally fit in all of himself and you whimpered at his size. "That's it. There's my perfect little apprentice."

"Hurry it up already!" You could hear Mammon growl, impatient. You tried to look back at him only to see him undoing his belt, the tent in his pants huge and uncomfortable. In fact, almost everyone had the same problem.

Levi was facing the wall, trying to jerk himself off discreetly. Belphie was sitting down gently rutting against his pillow. Satan was staring intently with crossed arms, sizing you up to imagine everything he wanted to do with you.

Solomon and you came at the same time, gasping and clutching to each other for support. You marked him with your nails and he marked you with his cum pouring out of your hole. "I'm so sorry I couldn't pull out, MC...you felt too good."

"That's it! My turn!" Mammon's patience ran out as he grabbed you by the arms and flipped you over. The sight of Solomon's essence inside you fueled his anger. He was about to fuck you like a dog.

"You need to learn to share, Mammon. MC belongs to all of us, after all." Asmo slithered his way under you somehow, running his dainty fingers up and down your chest, his manicured nails lightly grazing your nipples. "So cute."

"Asmo n-not there!" You trembled at his lips leaving lipstick marks over your tummy and to the sound of Mammon furiously unbuckling his pants. You felt both their erections on your thighs before Mammon shoved two fingers inside you, just to see if you could take him. "You belong to me now. Don't you dare scream anyone else's name but mine."

Latching his lips on yours, he thrust himself inside like a brute. You screamed his name into his mouth through his rough thrusts and tightening grip on your waist. "M-Mammon please not so rough!" You pulled away from his mouth to breathe.

You were barely registering the stretch of Mammon's length when Belphie appeared in front of you sheepishly. "Could you...let me use your mouth?" He ran his fingers over your lips tenderly. You parted your lips for him, half dazed and felt his tip trace your lips before putting it in.

"Couldn't wait his fucking turn. Why ya gotta be so pretty, MC? Hah...fuck you're still so tight.." Mammon hissed at Belphie lazily thrusting inside your mouth. Mammon's rough pace coupled with Belphie's slow one was so overwhelming you came again before long. "So good...so so good for me, MC..." The sleepy demon praised through gasps.

You were crying again as you came on Mammon's dick. He spilled out on your hips, dripping down your thighs. "I can't anymore...not right now...please..." You begged. Asmo cooed and hugged you. You fell asleep on his shoulder.

You woke up to Satan cradling your head on his lap, and Simeon running his fingers through your hair. "Let yourself relax, MC. The rest of us can wait patiently for our turn."

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me solomon #obey me diavolo #obey me Barbatos #obey me mammon #obey me asmo #obey me belphie #obey me beel #obey me satan #obey me simeon #obey me Lucifer #obey me gang

[llamagoddessofficial]

As a scuba diver I can confirm how quickly a peaceful dive can turn scary; on a sea dive I was so caught up in the moment that I completely forgot to watch my oxygen gauge. Thankfully my buddy was there to let me use his air supply and take me to the surface.

What would the siren boys do if MC got into danger while diving, such as very low oxygen? Maybe MC was pulled by the current and drifted away from other divers? Would they help her or take advantage of the situation?

Sans: Her life entirely depends how serious the 'trouble' in question is.

He'll save her if it's a very easy problem for him to solve. Like... if she's near the surface but runs out of air, he can rush her up the last couple of metres. If she drifts away from her friends and is struggling hard against the current, he can loop her arms around his neck and swim her back to them. Things that are emergencies to her, but slight inconveniences to him, he'll help with - especially since saving her life is a very easy way to get a LOT of favour with her. He likes the way she looks at him after he saves her. Beautiful, breathless, exhausted, staring like for a moment she adores him as much as he adores her.

However... a more complex issue? He'd let her drown. Maybe she's too far away from the surface and taking her straight upward wouldn't be safe. Maybe she's entered a state of panic and is making things worse for herself and he can't convince her to hold onto him. Maybe, even, she's in trouble but she simply hasn't seen him. If she never knew he was there she wouldn't be upset he didn't help.

He'll watch. It's just a little bit of discomfort. Then? They can be together forever.

Red: Come on. It's our boy. Our respect women juice chugging world champ - of course he'll rescue her, no matter what.

Her dive buddies definitely recount the story to her. Red was goofing off like he always does, nipping and shoving people he doesn't like, making it clear he's the 'alpha' around here. But suddenly, something about him flips... something in his disposition instantly changes. He becomes completely serious, and beelines into the near distance.

... And it's only once he's with her that everyone else notices she's silently struggling. They wouldn't have known to help if Red hadn't drawn attention to her.

He acts silly and stupid. But he's always paying attention to his mate, even when far away, using his incredible senses to keep tabs. He can sense her heartbeat with his electroreception, hear her breathing in the regulator, smell her blood in her veins. He's much smarter than he acts, and if the situation gets messy, there's not much better help underwater than a massive aggressive shark who'll move mountains to keep her safe.

Skull: Surprisingly, he'll do his absolute best to save her.

You'd expect the big lug to be the one actively pulling her down. But Skull doesn't really have a plan, so to speak, with his beloved little diver, he isn't plotting her death like Sans. He just wants to be around her; he wants to court her, show her what a good mate he'll be, show her pretty rocks and gifts, win her love and pull her back no matter how many times she tries to swim away from him. So it doesn't really matter what's happening - if Skull sees her struggling, he just sees his mate in distress, and he wants to rescue her. He doesn't like seeing her in visible pain or terror.

He might be delayed in helping if she's under the effects of nitrogen narcosis, because that just makes you act silly and drunk, so he wouldn't actually know anything was wrong. But as soon as he notices something off (she takes out her regulator, passes out, etc) he'll do everything he can to save her. He's a good boy underneath all those scars and deadly tentacles.

#llamagines #siren sanses

[astraystayyh]

Echoes of love

"to love someone is firstly to confess; i am prepared to be devastated by you."

Chapter ii. to remember

genre : memory loss trope. angst. slow burn. unrequited love except you were in a loving relationship and everything changes overnight.

pairing : minho x reader. (3racha cameo)

summary : if given the choice would you love minho again? yes, you would've once said in a heartbeat. but now, you aren't sure of your response anymore.

cw : depiction of a nightmare and anxiety attack. allusion to mc having a bad family history with alcohol. suggestive in the end (allusion to sex but no smut). reader had she/her pronouns.

word count : 11k words.

song recs : the night we met/terrible love/black friday/cover me/already gone/enough.

chapter i. skz quotes series masterlist.

A.N: PT. 2 IS HERE!!!! i hope you'll enjoy this one, she's my baby and i put so much work and thought into her, so feedback is highly highly appreciated!!! thank you to my @forlix for being with me every step of this journey, i love u the most<33

Day 33. 

With a gentle, absentminded sweep, your fingers trace the delicate contours of your wrist, a faint dance with the pulse beneath your skin– the cocoon of the soul you’re gradually growing accustomed to. It is a trying task, you've found out, to no longer yearn to flee from your body, leaving the weight of your worries for your bones and flesh alone to bear. 

A subtle fragrance floats in the air surrounding you- the familiar gardenia and honey tones of your sweet perfume. It is a scent you reserve for special occasions, such as this one- your first date, in three months according to the world, in more than a year for your memory. 

You swiftly retrieve a mirror from your pouch, checking your appearance for the tenth time in mere minutes. Your nude lipstick is still, unsurprisingly, in place, and you smile reassuringly at your reflection. She smiles back, though sometimes you half-expect her not to. In defiance, perhaps, maybe even repulse. 

The melodious chime of the café's bell captures your attention, and the man you've been awaiting finally enters. He confidently strides in, clad in a blue polo and black slacks, an evident effort poured into his appearance. 

Standing before you, his warm, gleaming eyes meet yours, effortlessly melting your lingering worries. You smile at him, he beams at you. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” Changbin, your date, asks as he pulls the chair adjacent to you. 

“No, just in time.”

Two weeks ago. 

Day 17. 

“Use me. Use me to remember,” Minho whispers, the distance between your lips resembling the thin edge of a blade. 

You close your eyes, the world narrowing down to the sound of your heartbeat, a rhythmic drum drowning out any attempt at coherent thoughts. Kiss him, your heart chants, kiss him and all your memories will flood back. But what if they don't? What if the abyss persists before the brightest beam of light?

A tender kiss lands on your forehead, gently interrupting your tumultuous thoughts. Minho’s lips are as warm, as soft as you remember them. They're now imprinted into your skin, no longer a hazy memory beyond your reach.

His hands cradle your hair, smoothing it down, making the ringing in your ears soften. You surrender to his gentle embrace, to the soft tide of emotions rippling from him to you, pulling your wounded soul to safe shores. 

“You need to forgive yourself,” he whispers, his words echoing against your skin, lips still pressed to your forehead. A rush of warmth overwhelms you, all your senses coming to life, ringing the alarm- he sees you, he sees through you.

“None of this is your fault,” he assures, a sudden cooling balm against your scorching wounds. These are the words you've been aching to hear. You didn't know, but Minho did, reading between the lines of your quivering lips and your reluctance to look into his eyes. 

He knows you better than you know yourself. 

“Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“But all I do is hurt people,” you confess, tears streaming down your face like a relentless downpour, soaking Minho's hands. 

You expect punishment to strike you, bolting lighting aiming straight for your heart as you finally admit to your biggest sin- the shadow of sorrow that trails your every step. It is the way it has always been since you were a child. It is what you fled from. 

What you don't expect is for tenderness to cradle you instead— in Minho's warm hand as he gently guides you to his chest, your ear resting above his steady heartbeat. Its rhythmic cadence akin to a lullaby- you shouldn't apologize for existing, you hear it sing to you. 

“If you need forgiveness, I’ll give that to you. you’re forgiven, okay? I forgive you. Today and tomorrow. I'll forgive you until you'll forgive yourself.” 

“Okay,” you nod, muffled words against the fabric of his shirt.

“Now, will you please come back with me? The cats will miss you a lot if you don’t,” he suggests, pressing his cheek onto the crown of your head. 

“I don't want to leave them,” you reply in a small voice, dewdrops gathering in your eyes at the thought of running again. 

“You don’t have to. It’s your home too.”

“Okay,” you sigh in acceptance, relief, encircling his waist with your arms. He is all inviting, like an open book, and you're resting between his pages, scribbled with love confessions for you. 

The world stills, waves slowing their relentless crash against the shore, as you draw in a deep breath from the pits of your soul. You don't remember all you’ve once felt for Minho. But you know it must have been safe, like stumbling upon a haven and then learning it was specially carved for you. 

“I miss you, Minho.”

“I know, I miss you too.”

Day 19. 

“Minho, can you come to the kitchen please?” your voice reverberates through the house, weaving through the air and reaching the bedroom where Minho has been ensnared, his less-than-graceful complaints echoing loudly for the past hour. You had sealed him within without explanation, only making him promise not to leave the room until you told him to, much to his dismay, and deep down, amusement. 

He chuckles lowly to himself as he rises from the bed, before making his way to the kitchen. There, he finds you near the doorway, hands concealed behind your back, dusty flour adorning your cheek like an artist’s absentminded paint stroke.  

“So…,” you trail off and Minho smiles, crossing his arms before his chest.  

“So?”

“A situation may have happened.” 

“Which situation?” he inquires amusedly, attempting to peer past you into the kitchen. Your extended arms block his view.

“You know how I got a concussion from the car accident,” you ask. 

“I do.”

“I think it may have affected my cooking abilities.”

“But you didn't have any to begin with?” he muses, tilting his head to the side innocently. 

“Shut up,” you playfully admonish before clasping your hands in a silent plea. “Will you help me?” 

“Mm, what are you making?” he inquires, leaning against the doorway.

“Pudding.”

“Pudding?”

“For you.”

“Oh.” 

A blush creeps up Minho’s neck as he grapples to find a reply, his surprised gasp hanging into the air. You giggle faintly, entertained by his sudden speech impairment. 

In response, Minho takes a step forward, delicately brushing away the flour on your cheek, his thumb hovering near the corner of your mouth. “How did this get here?”

“Huh?” you sputter, pink splashing across your cheeks like spilled Rosé. 

Minho is testing your waters, dipping one toe in, hoping he’ll find your reassuring embrace lurking beneath the surface. Did you blush from the heat of the stove or his touch? Minho doesn’t know. Minho needs to find out. 

“And you also forgot this,” he lightly pouts, reaching over your head to the hanger behind you, caging you between his arms. 

He’s sacrificing his heart, placing it on the frontlines of hurt once again. Yet, when you look up at him, dewy eyes flickering to his lips, Minho feels a single match lighten up in his core, not enough to burn all his doubts. But enough to signal hope. 

Hope is a perilous possession, akin to cradling a fragile glass that threatens to shatter at the slightest tremor. Hope is the only thread Minho can now hang onto. 

“You forgot your apron,” he finally says, withdrawing two aprons from the hanger. He drapes one over your head before placing a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you around. He silently ties the strings into a ribbon, his fingers brushing against your spine. He can distinctly remember the feel of your bare skin beneath his fingertips, silky, smooth, intoxicating. 

“There, a pretty knot,” he whispers, not moving back an inch, waiting for you to swivel around. Yet, you remain silent, undoing your hair from its loose ponytail. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, resembling the unveiling of curtains, and Minho senses something unfurling in the depths of his stomach.

“Tie it for me?” you whisper, handing him the hair tie without looking back. Your fingertips brush against each other, and Minho inhales deeply.

“Sure,” he says, voice thick with emotion, he needs to drink water. He needs to drink you in. 

He gathers your hair strands in another low ponytail, trembling hands as they brush against the nape of your neck, akin to powerless leaves before the autumn breeze. He’s close, so close to you, so much his chest almost brushes against your back. 

As soon as he’s done, Minho swiftly steps back before doing something he’ll surely regret, like placing a tender kiss on your shoulder, or worse, confessing that he misses the simple act of brushing your hair at night. 

“So, pudding,” he clears his throat, rolling up the sleeves of his white hoodie. your eyes follow his movement, lingering on the veins protruding on his forearms. Minho feels a bit foolish for wanting to flex for you. 

“It’s really easy actually. bring me two eggs?” 

“Sure,” you grin, heading for the fridge as Minho retrieves sugar from the cupboard, throwing away the odd liquid mixture you managed to conjure. 

You stand beside Minho, eyebrows furrowed as he explains why the milk needs to be brought to a boil before adding the cornstarch, or how adding the vanilla at the very end will help preserve its flavor. You listen intently, nodding along, and the tension between you dispels, leaving place for something comforting, familiar– you’re erasing the remnants of his sobs, the sight of him crumbling over the green kitchen tiles. 

“Let's leave it to chill,” he finally says, closing the fridge’s door. 

“Okay,” you nod, packing away the butter. Minho leans against the countertop, an ember of curiosity ablaze at the tip of his tongue

“Why did you want to make pudding?” he asks and you freeze in place. 

“To see if I’m capable of not being a lost cause,” you respond playfully but the undertones of your voice indicate otherwise- laden, charged. One more match that you could light up? 

“Really?” he says softly, taking one step toward you. 

“No,” you giggle faintly and he nods, a gentle smile unfurling on his face, gradual as the eclipse of a moon.

“It was supposed to be your birthday gift. That's why I locked you in the room. I even bought little birthday hats for the cats, silly I know, and very late, but, turns out I’m a horrible-” 

“I wanna see the birthday hats,” he cuts you off.

“Really? They’re really ugly.” 

“It's my birthday gift, right?”

Five minutes later, you and Minho are seated on the floor, legs crisscrossed, three perplexed cats before you, and on their heads, obnoxiously neon green hats.

“They look so…” you tilt your head, assessing the view before you. 

“Stupid?” Minho suggests, eliciting a startled snort from you that swiftly transforms into an almost maniac cackle, which in turn, catches Minho off guard. He gazes at you bewilderedly before succumbing to a fit of giggles, which intensifies your laughter, as you punctuate his shoulder with light hits, tears streaming down your face in an attempt to regain composure.

One hundred matches light up in Minho’s heart at the sight, all at once.

“My God, they look so stupid, I’m so sorry,” you laugh harder, your body collapsing to the ground, hands tightly clutching your stomach. 

They can laugh again, the house sighs in relief, something other than sobs can still echo within my walls. 

Day 22. 

“I miss the sea,” you sigh softly, cradling a cup of chamomile tea between your hands. Minho, absorbed in his book, glances up to find a melancholic expression etched on your face—a poignant blend of sorrow and longing that he knows weighs heavy on your heart. 

“We saw it over at the bridge, no?” he ventures tentatively, setting the book aside on the living room table.

“Yes, but I miss the sand, and the waves lapping at my feet. I miss feeling the sea, not just seeing it.” 

“I’d take you, in a heartbeat,” he says assuredly, ready to bring you the moon if only you dare ask. “But it's far, and you can't get into a car.” 

“I can try.” 

“You can?” he questions, hope budding in his eyes.

“I mean- I want to, it's just… I don't know,” you retract, nails drumming anxiously against your cup, gaze lost into the amber liquid.  

“Talk to me, yeah?” he smiles softly, draping a reassuring hand on your arm. His thumb swipes across the slate of your shoulder, and an impossible knot in your throat untangles. 

“The accident took a lot from me. My health, my memories, a year of moving forward.” You quiet down, eyes meeting his in a barely veiled vulnerability. Silence speaks of your hardest loss— him. 

“Can you help me get the sea back?”

Minho’s radiant smile is louder than any spoken agreement.

…

Thread by thread, drop by drop, your fears unravel as Minho lowers all the car windows’ before gently guiding you into the car seat, dispelling any prospect of feeling confined within the vehicle. 

He remembers everything, even the panic that gripped your being when you went into his enclosed car, nearly a month ago. 

“Can I blindfold you? It might help, so you wouldn't see the car lights since it’s night,” he suggests.

“Yeah, that'd be nice,” you agree, your hand lightly gripping the car seat.

“Hey, hey,” he calls out gently, “I'm here, okay? The second you feel overwhelmed I'm stopping this car.”

“Will you drive safely?” 

“Of course. I promise you.” 

Your nod is met with the softening of Minho's eyes, as he delicately tucks a strand of your hair behind the curve of your ear. 

“I'm proud of you,” he whispers, tone laden with so much tenderness, love, that your throat becomes a garden, vocal cords bound not by thorns but the delicate blossoming of flowers. 

With a gentle touch, Minho wraps a tie around your eyes, cocooning you in a tranquil darkness. His hand seeks yours instinctively, fingers intertwining with yours akin to the wind weaving through the strands of your hair.

In this moment, every fracture within you is delicately filled by Minho.

He starts driving, a soothing piano instrumental playing out of the car’s speakers- his hand still in yours. “Breathe,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing a soothing path across your palm. 

“Follow my touch.” A gentle sweep to the right, an invitation to inhale slowly. “In,” his voice guides, and you draw in a deep breath.

Another caress to the left, a silent directive to release your confined breath. “Out,” he whispers, and you exhale, surrendering to the rhythm orchestrated by his thumb.

He raises the music’s volume, his touch becoming a maestro, speaking silently to you. You’re grateful for it, for the way in which he’s driving- avoiding curbs and speeding, safely, making the wheels float across the road. 

Your heart still constricts in your chest, anxiety squeezing your veins, bleeding them dry, but you focus on Minho’s thumb, you let it guide you, like a compass navigating the dark tunnels of your heart. 

“We're almost there,” he reassures as he stops by a red light. 

“I look silly, right?” you reply, giggling a bit. 

“What?” he asks, confused. 

“I can feel you looking,” you clarify. 

“How so?”

“My right cheek is tingling.” 

Minho snorts incredulously. “What does that even mean?”

“You have a piercing stare. You're like melting through my skin and vibrating my bones.”

“Idiot,” he chuckles. My my my idiot, Minho grieves to say once again. The human heart is peculiar, he learns day after day, mourning the loss of a myriad of minuscule things, even words. 

“And, you don't look silly,” he clears his throat minutes later, as he finally parks by the beach.  

“You look pretty,” he utters, unraveling your blindfold, and you blink, caught between the sudden light and the weight of his words. “You always do,” he concludes, a whispered confession that lingers like the afterglow of a sunset, painting your world in golden hues.

“Minho, I…” you trail off, eyes landing on the vast sea ahead, blending into the sky in an alluring shade of turquoise. “We're here!” you shout bewildered, a magnificent grin on your face. 

“We are,” Minho smiles, drinking in the delight in your expression. 

“Oh my god I missed the sea!” you giggle as you undo your seatbelt, quickly opening the car’s door and taking off running. 

Minho follows closely behind, captivated, as he watches you glide across the shore, the sand ricocheting off the soles of your shoes. You look like a fairy, bending the wind to your will, coaxing it into a choreography that mirrors the rhythm of your movements, your messy footprints marking your pathway to happiness once again. 

Upon the sand, you finally settle down, and Minho walks over, sitting beside you. Both of you quietly gaze ahead, entranced by the moon's silver glow caressing the water’s surface. Each shimmering wave resembles glistening diamonds, a celestial mirror reflecting the lights in the sky.

“Have I ever told you why I love the sea?” you speak after a while, tone softer, more content. 

“You did.” 

“Can I tell you again?” you say. Can I tell you what I still remember? He understands. 

“Of course.” 

"There was a beach near our home, back then," you reminisce, a nostalgic aura enveloping your words. “And whenever I felt lonely I used to go there and watch the waves, to calm me down. But, one time, I was really overwhelmed so I ended up crying. And then, coincidentally, it started raining too.” 

Your eyes widen slightly, a hint of amusement in your voice. “At that moment, I chuckled at the timing, how the sky was crying with me.”

“Ever since that day, I liked to believe that the sea is made up of the sky’s tears, the ones that fell in sync with those of humans, so it'd comfort us. And the tears grew from a pond to a river, to a vast ocean, as humans cried more and more. That's why sometimes the sea’s waters are gentle because those are tears of happiness falling somewhere. Sometimes they're stormy, since someone is crying out of anger. Sometimes they're melancholic, just relentlessly crashing against the shore, because someone is in pain. Like we are.”

A tranquil hush falls over the night as you quiet down, before turning around to meet Minho’s teary eyes, mirroring yours.

“And if the sea persists through tempests and tranquility, if it goes on despite the myriad of emotions it holds within, then so will we.”

Hope isn't fragile, as Minho once believed. Hope scrapes its bloody palms against the rough surface as it climbs defiantly to the pinnacle once again. Hope picks out rugged stones with weathered hands and builds a home out of them. Hope is strong, it clutches onto the thinnest threads so we’d endure and endure once more. As many times as we need to. 

“Well, the sky isn't crying right now,” Minho notes.

“I know,” you smile softly, “Because we're holding on to hope.” 

Day 26. 

Under the soft glow of the TV, Dori settles comfortably on your shoulders, nuzzling her tiny nose onto your face every now and then. Soonie and Doongie are a bit far away, playing with a piece of yarn, captivated by its vibrant red threads. 

It is an ordinary, comforting setting to watch a movie with Minho, on a Sunday night, a bowl of popcorn nestled on his lap while his cats lounge around. So familiar that the world around you blurs, like the vague brushes of an impressionist painting— a vivid déjà-vu sensation clinging to your body. You’ve lived this scene before. You want to live it again, now and in the future. More and more. 

However something is different— your skin tingles, a buzzing sensation that travels from thigh to knee to hand, as if your body knows that something’s amiss. Minho’s touch perhaps, his palm casually resting upon your skin. 

You don’t know where this urge is coming from— to lay your head on his shoulder, to have him run his fingers through your hair. Even more, to lose yourself in the nutmeg and peppermint notes of his cologne, to disintegrate your worries into his hold and rest. 

“Would you mind if some of my friends came over?” Minho speaks up suddenly, cutting off your trailing train of thought. 

“Hm?” you hum absentmindedly before clearing your throat. “I mean, no, I don't mind. Who are they?”

“Han and Chan. They’ve been asking about you for a while now.” 

“Sure, this is your home.”

“It is yours too,” he says, gaze locking onto yours. His eyes are like a dark tapestry woven with threads of stardust- you’d never tire of looking into them, into the universe they seem to cradle within. 

Do you know that there is a galaxy inside you? You almost slip out, words in an urgent race against your mind. You barely stop them at the tip of your tongue, before smiling and peeling your eyes away from his, painfully, like scratching a burn scab long before it heals. 

…

“They’re here,” Minho announces as someone knocks on the door. 

“Okay,” you smile, a tad nervous. You’re not even sure what for. 

“If they annoy you too much tell me, I’ll kick them out,” he reassures, raising his brows playfully at you. 

“That's mean,” you giggle, albeit soothed by his words.

“They already love you,” he grabs your wrist, his thumb gently swiping over your pulse. “No need to be worried.” 

He drops it, as though a countdown is ingrained into his brain— never to touch you for more than ten seconds. Wouldn't it be selfish, pathetic even, to ask him for more? 

As Minho heads to open the door, you linger in the living room, idly fidgeting with the hem of your sweatshirt. It is a weird circumstance to greet strangers who know you— you may have brushed against their shoulders in an alley and not known who they were. 

Your thoughts dissolve as two men saunter into the living room, stopping in their tracks once their eyes land on you. They’re both beautiful– that is the first thing you note, closely followed by how relieved they seem to see you. Simultaneous soft sighs escape them, gentle smiles blooming across their faces. Tentatively, you return the gesture.                          

Minho takes the initiative to introduce them. “Yn. This is Chan,” he points to the man on the right, clad in black from head to toe, his smile grows wider, his eyes disappearing into moon crescents, two dimples peeking gleefully on his cheeks. 

“And Han,” the younger man, sporting a Supreme t-shirt despite the cold, beams at you, highlighting his round cheeks, and an adam-apple that weirdly resembles a heart. 

“I want to hug you but Minho put us on a strict no-touch notice because of your ribs,” Han speaks first, a small pout tugging at his lips as he glances at Minho, who simply rolls his eyes at his words. 

“You can never keep something for yourself,” Minho sighs, rubbing the space between his eyebrows. You stifle an amused giggle. 

“And she technically doesn’t remember us so it’d be weird for her to hug a stranger,” Chan notes, offering you an understanding smile. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean it in a creepy way! more of ‘Oh my god I’m so happy you’re alive, thank you for still being here, I was so worried about you’.”

“But were you worried?” you ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Of course, I-”

“Then why weren’t you at my bedside?” you question, an eyebrow raised, and Minho chuckles at your words. 

“W-what?” Han asks, glancing worriedly at the two men by his side. 

“Why weren’t you there sobbing when I woke up? It doesn’t look like you were worried,” you muse, throwing a wink to Minho who walks over to you.

“Right, you should’ve sent her a pic of you crying,” Minho adds, as you drape a hand on his shoulder. 

“A picture for every day you didn’t come see me,” you say solemnly as Han’s face grows paler by the second. 

“I-I didn’t, I really was worried, I swear, I kept asking Minho every day about you and…” he trails off as giddy smiles break out on your face and Minho’s before you both burst out laughing. 

“You guys are evil,” Han laments, as Chan pats his back in faux sympathy, a string of giggles falling from his full lips. 

“I’m sorry. we made you dinner to make up for it,” you grin and Minho looks at you pointedly. 

“He made you dinner,” you correct with a huff, and Minho smiles, satisfied, raising his brows smugly at his two friends. 

“Let’s choose a movie then!” Han claps, turning to the TV as Minho sidles by his side.

“I’ll set up the table,” Chan announces.

“I’ll help you,” you offer, and he nods, clearly grateful for your assistance.

You’re taking out four plates from the cupboard, Chan effortlessly bringing out the glasses, clearly familiar with the nooks and crannies of your home, when he suddenly speaks.

“How are you, Yn?” 

“Do you want the truth?” you ask back, and he grins. “Always.”

“I’m okay. Right now. I don’t know if I’ll still be tomorrow, you know? It all fluctuates so much.” 

“Mm, I understand,” he says, and something about his tone indicates that he isn’t saying this just to comfort you. “And that’s okay too. What you went through wasn’t easy, but good times will come again. They always do, you know, just like the sun always comes back after the rain.”

“The sun,” you repeat, as you glance out at the living room, where Minho is laughing at something Han just said, his head tipped back, bunny teeth peeking out. 

Perhaps the sun rays were by your side all along. 

“Thank you, Chan,” you beam at him. “Truly, for being worried about me too.”

“It's nothing to thank us for. We care about you, even though you don’t remember us,” he pouts, a hand on his heart in mock offense. 

“Hey, it’s not my fault I got amnesia!” you chuckle. 

"Excuses!" he drawls with a playful tone as he exits the kitchen, and you can't help but laugh quietly to yourself. You recognize what he's doing—making light of your accident to alleviate the weight on your heart.

The night blurs in your memory, but this time it is tinged with happiness and laughter. The three men recall fun stories of their time together, a seven-year bond rooted in love and care, albeit silently. You witnessed it in the details—Chan ensuring the food was on their plates first, Minho peeling shrimp for Han, the latter rubbing Chan’s arms when he complained of being cold.

Then you saw it directed towards you– how they put on the movie you wanted and watched in anticipation as you took the first bite of food, draped the fuzziest blanket around you, and rushed to your side simultaneously when you stumbled on your feet.

You were loved, although you didn’t know of it. The accident took away your memories but it didn’t plague theirs. 

“Thank you,” you beam at the two men as you walk them to the door. Opening your arms wide, you invite them in for a hug. Han embraces you first, a large smile on his face, and you gently beckon Chan in too. “Easy,” he whispers in Han's ears, careful not to put any pressure on your ribs. They both pat your back as you wrap an arm around their respective shoulders before leaning away.

“I’ll call you,” Minho bids them farewell, tipping his chin forward. They wave to him before finally leaving

You close the door, leaning against the auburn wood. Minho watches you, a soft smile playing on his face.

“Good?” he inquires, closing the distance between you.

“Mm, good,” you reply with a smile as he halts just an inch away. His intoxicating scent envelops you, permeating your bones and flowing through your veins like liquid warmth.

A torrent of memories floods your mind—images of you pressed against this same door. It is dark, a stark contrast from your first memory, a lone lunar beam of light slashing through the night. Minho’s hands grip your waist with a fevered urgency, while yours entwines around the nape of his neck, in passion, in hunger, almost as if you were deprived of him for so long.

You angle his mouth closer to yours, his lips pressing against your own repeatedly, a desperate attempt to brand the contours of his mouth into your soul. His hair, a cascade of midnight silk, tickles your fingers with an electric charge, like the crackling of the air before a storm. His tongue sweeps across your lower lip, seeking entrance, one you willingly surrender, white flag easily thrown to the ground. With every kiss, your bodies meld together, so much so that you could merge into the door, disappearing into the shadows as one.

“What's wrong?” Minho breaks your trance and you snap out of your reverie, a bright flush adorning your cheeks. 

“N-nothing,” you stammer. 

“You’re all red, do you have a fever?” he asks, coming closer, his hand pressed to your forehead. His woody scent envelops you once again– everything about him is enticing— his cologne, his lips on you, his fingertips dragging underneath your shirt, his eyes piercing yours, undressing you before his hands ever could.

“Yn?” he questions and you grab his jaw, angling his face away from you. 

“Stay like this, don’t look at me for a moment.”

“What?”

“Just… please,” you say and he chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief, and yet he complies, his side profile now facing you.

How does he live with these memories each time he looks at you? 

You take in a deep breath, focusing on his silhouette. It might seem counterproductive to fixate on the same man consuming your thoughts, but how could you not when he was mere centimeters away, his eyes averted from yours?

You exhale softly as your gaze glides along the graceful curve of his neck, a solitary mole resting just beneath his sculpted jawline, leading the way to his plump lips, a cupid's bow delicately carved by the hands of the divine archer himself — crafted to be kissed, to be adored.

Your eyes trail up, tracing the high bridge of his nose, another mole perched at its pinnacle, sharp and smooth as if chiseled by a master sculptor, one who dedicated months to perfecting his artistry. His eyes are a mesmerizing brown, punctuated with long lashes that flutter like the delicate wings of an angel with each slow blink.

Minho sweeps aside strands of his hair, his fingertip delicately fluffing them upwards. It dawns on you, a sudden revelation of the necessity of art — to immortalize such beauty for generations to come.

You imagine admirers gazing upon Minho, sighing in sheer amazement, their hearts tightening with emotions that words struggle to encapsulate in the face of this epitome of beauty. Inside and out, you reflect, inside and out. 

“You told them not to drink around me, right?” you ask softly.

A blush grows from the base of Minho's neck to the tip of his ears, like roots expanding into the soil. He sighs before finally looking at you.

“I did. How’d you figure it out?” he wonders.

“I asked Han if he wanted a drink, but he refused so categorically that I assumed he didn't like alcohol. But most of his stories were of him drunk,” you chuckle quietly, and Minho shrugs sheepishly.

“We get loud when we drink. You don’t like that,” he says simply as if it’s a given, an absolute certainty that he’d do anything but make you uncomfortable.

He's beautiful, the light of his heart basking his face in a glow that even Michaelangelo's skillful hands wouldn’t be able to replicate.  

And he loves you. 

Till when? Your heart sounds out in alarm. Till when will he love you? What if the grains of sand slip away from the hourglass before you can reciprocate his love? Two stars colliding at disparate speeds, never converging into a singular entity, destined to erupt and scatter into cosmic dust.

How long do you have left? How many more days will he love you for? 

How many more days do you have to love him back? 

Day 30. 

Minho is sick. 

He tried his best to conceal it from you, as he came back from his dance studio, strands of his hair clinging to his forehead, a thin sheen of perspiration above his right eyebrow. Yet, his uncharacteristic silence betrayed him, as he quietly retreated into the shower, emerging with a solemn expression on his face. 

Seated on the bed, book long forgotten by your side, you bit your lip tentatively. “You're okay?” you inquired, perched on the edge, concern etched in your gaze.

“Mm, just tired,” Minho responded, his attempt at reassurance falling short as he laid down on the floor mattress. “Can you turn off the lights?” he softly requested. “Hurts my eyes.”

“Yeah, of course. Will you sleep now?”

“I think so.”

“Okay then. Good night, Minho,” you uttered gently, the veins in your heart tangled with worry. “Good night,” he whispered in return.

In the stillness of the night, you were roused by soft whimpers escaping Minho's lips. He writhed in apparent discomfort, his features contorted with an unseen anguish. His pupils moved furiously underneath the thin layer of his eyelids, betraying the tumultuous thoughts raging in his mind. 

You've never seen Minho so disrupted in his sleep, mouth slightly hung agape as if he struggled to breathe in the depths of his dreams. Your worry for him came back to haunt you ten times fold.

You lean over the bed, gently shaking his shoulders. “Minho, wake up.”

“No... no-no, don't-don't go,” he whispers, caught in the vines of a restless dream, seemingly wrapping around his mind, trapping him in. “Minho, come on wake up,” your pleas grow more insistent, but so do his. “Don't go, s-stay,” he implores, voice broken, prompting you to abandon your bed and join him on his mattress.

“Minho!” you call out, shaking him until his eyes finally flutter open. He gasps for air— as if inhaling his first breath on this earth, shooting upright, wide-eyed and disoriented. 

His gaze locks on yours and he instantly cradles your face in his sweaty hands, bringing you closer to him until your noses bump into one another. “You didn't go,” he whispers, and you shake your head. “I'm here.”

“Fuck,” he swears, releasing his hold on you and sinking back into the pillow. 

“Minho, what's wrong?” you ask softly, afraid you're treading on stormy waters.

“I… I don't know. I don't feel good,” He admits, fingers tugging at the collar of his shirt, as if the fabric morphed into a vise around his throat. A flush creeps up his neck, red dots splashing across his ivory skin. A droplet of sweat traces a slow path down his temple, as the white fabric clings uncomfortably to his warm skin.

“Do you have a fever?”you ask, placing your hand on his forehead, sensing an unusual heat radiating beneath your touch. “Minho, where is your thermometer?”

“Bedside drawer,” he breathes out.

Fetching the thermometer, you gently tug at his chin, opening his mouth to check his temperature. “Stay still”" you instruct, watching anxiously as the numbers climb steadily.

“40°C, fuck Minho, you have a really high fever,” you exclaim as he shuts his eyes, an unmistakable weariness claiming him, rendering him malleable, akin to the silk pillow he's resting on. 

“I feel dizzy,” he admits, burying his face into the covers. 

“You need to take a cold shower now,” you urge a sudden lump materializes in your throat at the sight of his suffering. 

“It's okay, I'll just sleep.”

“No, no, it's far from okay!” you almost exclaim, tears stinging at the corners of your eyes as if you were peeling an onion—your own emotional layers unraveling, exposing the depth of your concern for Minho.

“Minho, please, you have a really high fever,” you plead, feeling an unexpected surge of panic at his unwillingness to cooperate.

“Yn… are you worried about me?”

“I am.”

“It feels nice. Please be worried about me more,” he mumbles, eyes still closed, eliciting an incredulous laugh from you. 

“You are so unbelievable, my god,” you pull him up and he doesn't resist, nearly stumbling on his feet.

“Okay?” you ask, running your hand through the nape of his neck.

“Mm,” he hums, burying his head in your shoulder. “Sleepy.”

“I know, you'll sleep after the shower,” you reassure softly, guiding him to the bathroom, his entire body weight leaning onto yours. There, you turn on the light, your right hand holding Minho's waist tightly as you lead him to settle atop the toilet.

“Can I take off your shirt?”

“Are you planning to undress me?” he smiles lazily, hooded eyes locked onto yours.

“No, I just-” you stammer, but he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because I don't mind.”

“I can't believe you're flirting with me while you're sick.”

“I always am, I can't help it,” he says, raising his hands as a silent signal for you to remove his shirt.

“You're awfully candid tonight,” you observe, seizing the edges of his shirt and drawing it over his head. His tongue glides across his lips, his gaze drawing tantalizingly slow over your form, and you clench his shirt tighter in your hands. He's the one with the fever, yet it's you who feels ablaze, flames of longing licking at your every sense.

“Come here,” you beckon, the icy water now flowing as you turn the knob. He reaches his hand out to you, and you grasp it, guiding him under the frigid cascade, soaking you both.

“C-cold,” he stutters, and you nod, your breath escaping in short, visible puffs.

“I-I know, just a little longer,” you reassure.

2 a.m. is a peculiar time to shower, the water droplets echoing against the tiled floor is the only sound that can be heard. That, and your labored breaths in tandem with the chilly embrace of the water filling your bones. The quiet makes way for other unspoken sentiments to surge forth, electric and palpable, heightened by the way Minho gazes at you through the liquid curtain, his hands clinging tightly to your arms for stability.

Droplets of water weave seamlessly through his hair, and an unexpected pang of jealousy grips you— you envy the liberty of those water beads as they thread through his locks, tracing the contours of his broad shoulders, nestling in the enticing recesses of his collarbones, without fearing the consequences of such acts. You don't dare look further down, wary that the rivulets on his skin may lead to your own undoing. Instead, you close your eyes thanking the stars that you weren’t wearing a white shirt, which would have turned translucent by now. You don’t even want to contemplate the consequences of such a premise.

After a few minutes, you turn off the water, stepping out of the shower and swiftly enveloping Minho in a towel.

“Go change, I have some spare clothes in here. Oh, and don't wear a top,” you instruct.

Minho chuckles quietly and you roll your eyes. “Shh. Make sure to dry your hair too.”

Taking your time in getting dressed, you peel off each wet layer, depositing them into the washing machine, before donning a spare pajama from a cabinet. You stroll to the kitchen to pour Minho a glass of water and retrieve medicine from the drawer, lingering at the counter long enough to ensure he'd be dressed by the time you return to the room.

You knock softly before opening the door, and the sight of Minho freezes you in your tracks. The room basks in warm, orange hues from the lamp's glow, playing upon Minho's skin and casting enticing shadows on the contours of his muscles—a masterpiece created by the skilled hands of light. His toned arms rest between his legs, back against the headboard, and an inexplicable urge to flee washes over you, your heart sinking to your knees in the face of his long-avoided vision of beauty.

You swallow the tumultuous thoughts raging within you before handing him his medicine, which he drinks diligently. Pressing your palm to his forehead, you're relieved to find a slight reduction in his temperature. “It will go down more once the medicine takes effect,” you assure.

“One of my students had a nasty cold. I think I got it from him,” he explains, and you nod, your hand lingering near his. Your fingers twitch as his pinky brushes against yours—akin to birds fluttering their wings in anticipation, awaiting, aching for a release from their cage, at last.

“I'm tired,” Minho sighs, closing his eyes. “Lay down,” you gently instruct, and he complies, resting his head on the pillow.

“It's cold,” he whines, swaying like a child throwing a bedtime tantrum. He's endearing, melting the frost that had gathered in your heart.

“You have a fever, silly,” you chuckle, pushing strands of his hair from his forehead, twirling them around. “Your hair's gotten longer,” you muse as you braid a tiny section of his bangs, only to undo it again.

“Can you play with my hair some more?” he requests softly.

“Of course,” you reply, threading your fingers through his locks, jet black as if all the stars in the sky collided, leaving behind nothing but a dark abyss.

“Please stay healthy, Min. Take care of yourself too.”

“But I like it more when you take care of me,” he pouts, before sighing shortly after. “I'll probably regret a lot of my words tomorrow, right?”

“Why is that?” 

“Because you don’t feel the same for me,” he confesses, leaving you silent, grappling with the echoes of his words. What do you feel for Minho?

The question jolts the breath from your windpipe violently, an unyielding force crashing against your lungs till the answer finds its footing on your tongue.

“Can I ask you something?” you finally speak, cringing at the sound of your voice disrupting the fragile quiet. 

“Anything.” 

“Where did your scar come from?” you inquire, gesturing towards the mark just below his belly button.

“I got surgery a long time ago. I’m kind of self-conscious about it,” he confesses, a bit shyly. 

“Really? But it’s beautiful, it looks like a strike of lightning,” you sincerely remark, coaxing a tender smile from Minho, unfolding like the gradual sunrises of autumn.

“This is exactly what you told me months ago.”

“Did I?”

“Mm, and then you traced it with your fingertips,” he grabs your hand, hovering it over his stomach. You can easily slip out of his grasp; you choose not to. 

“Like this?” you murmur, tracing his scar gently, fingertips grazing his skin like a lit fire, subtly enough not to scorch. His flesh tenses beneath your caress, muscles constricting as you navigate from right to left—a trajectory of dusty stars akin to the Milky Way, his skin soft to the touch, rippling beneath you with thinly veiled goosebumps.

“Yes,” he breathes out, his gaze wide, running furiously over your face. Yet, your attention lingers on his skin, shadows dancing across its surface, its honeyed hue a shade you wish to sear behind your eyelids. Your hands ascend and descend, mapping his body which blushes in response, as if his very being memorized your touch, imprinting your fingerprints onto its memory. You slide down his forearms, pausing over his fragile veins, seemingly offering you his life.

Silence envelops you, punctuated only by the weighty exhales escaping you both, for there are feelings that words cannot encapsulate, no matter how much human languages strive to, ultimately succumbing to the profundity of silence— the one language only souls comprehend.

Your hands ascend to his neck, thumb grazing the tender skin cradling his pulse. It resonates throughout your bones, echoing from his being to yours as if you’re harboring two lives within you.

“You… you could've kissed me over at the bridge,” you whisper, bringing to light the question that’s been lingering at the back of your mind. “Why didn't you?”

“I wanted you to kiss me because you wanted to. Not because you longed for our past or our future. I wanted you to want me in the present,” Minho explains, vulnerability seeping into his words, like honey melting into a warm cup of tea. 

“I’m scared,” you admit, your voice a fragile murmur, even as your head leans forward, hair cascading around Minho’s face, enclosing him in an intimate curtain. Minho gently grabs your hand and cradles it against his cheek, pressing a tender kiss to the center of your palm. 

“Right now. Do you want me?” he asks simply, offering himself openly to you. 

Do you want him?

After a momentary pause, you tentatively lean in, planting a gentle kiss upon his forehead. A resonant exhale escapes him, as your lips trace a path along his cheeks, leaving behind a trail of tiny kisses. Moving to the tender skin beneath his eyes— as easily bruised as your emotions—you bestow soft pecks to it as if seeking forgiveness for every tear he shed in your name.

His eyes remained closed, his trust evident in the surrender of his being to you. The answer to your internal query is written all over his features— the hushed exhale escaping his body, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the tranquility nestled between his eyebrows. 

Yes. Yes, you do.

Your lips finally meet Minho’s in a delicate union, unmoving like rose petals folding onto one another. A surge of warmth emanates from the depths of your heart, coursing through your entire being like sunrays, submerging your soul in a tranquil white glow.

Leaning away ever so slightly, you press a tender kiss on his lower lip, enclosing it between your own. Your hand cradles his jaw, running gently through his damp strands. Your lips move against his slowly in a saccharine kiss, parting, only to meet again, in the same tenderness, perhaps a growing one as you become accustomed to the contours of his lips, to the languid moves of his mouth, following your rhythm. You were leading the dance, his lips mere puppets to your heart’s wishes. He didn't rush you, only allowed you to kiss him, whichever way you wanted. 

A pause, a moment suspended in time, your hands trembling as they rest upon his cheeks, his palm hovering above your own, offering a comforting press. The gesture reassures you in your curiosity that won’t be satiated, urging you to seal your lips on his with a tentative fervor. The world outside dissolves into a distant murmur, the seconds blending into a timeless run, you slamming the door before your worries protesting at the entrance of your mind. Tomorrow, you’ll find the answers. Tonight, you are kissing Minho.

As you press a final, lingering kiss to his velvety mouth, visions of you at peace flood your being. You see yourself sinking into the warm pool of your aunt’s country club, you see yourself walking on the beach with sand molding to the contours of your feet, you see yourself laying on the grass while observing sunrays weaving through the trees. And then, amidst your most serene memories, the act of pressing your lips to Minho stands out, the warmth of his mouth against yours eclipsing all other sensations.

Leaning away, you rest your forehead on his shoulder, and Minho's hands cradle your hair.

"Which lip balm do you use,” you giggle against his bare skin, relishing in the sweet taste of his lips.

“Yours.”

Day 31.

Minho’s nose is buried in the crook of your neck, his arm draped across the expanse of your stomach. He sinks further into you, binding himself to your body, anchoring his hold on your being. You are warm, your skin is soft to the touch and Minho doesn’t want to wake up from this tender dream, akin to plummeting into a sea of silky pillows, falling into a blanket of clouds. 

Except, he's awake, Minho realizes with a jolt. He blinks repeatedly, allowing the sunrays to stream to his eyes, his pupils dilating once they settle on you— so much their obsidian depths swallows the brown of his irises whole. You stir beneath his touch, making your cheek press upon the crown of his head. He's fully awake now, snatched from the velvet threads of his dreams made up of you, thrown into your arms once again after thirty-three days. 

A soft gasp escapes Minho’s lips, the air stolen from his lungs as if it was yours to claim. Echoes of the night replay in his mind— a fever, you tending him to me, a cold cascade of water, you tracing his scar, and then, the kiss.

You kissed him. A long shiver runs down his spine at the memory, a subtle twitch that stirs you from slumber once again. 

What does one kiss mean? The question dances wildly in Minho’s mind. More importantly, what do you want it to mean? 

Minho whines softly, closing his eyes for a few seconds, relishing in the fragrance of your hair, in the serenity that floods his being each time he’s around you. This was his most restful slumber in weeks, because you were near, his mind recognizing you, relaxing underneath your touch, drifting to a mindless sleep. 

Reluctantly, he untangles himself from you, a bittersweet departure from your arms. Work was calling his name. 

He prayed you’d call his too soon. 

….

You wake up to an empty bed, the only lingering trace of the night you spent being the tingling of your lips, as if aching to be kissed once again. You sigh, running a hand through your face. It was much easier to succumb to your heart’s wishes when it was late at night, when minho laid bare beneath your touch, so enticing in the gentlest of ways. When you were cradled by the moon’s soft glow, blanketed by the night’s cloak of darkness.

But it was light now, the sun was glaring as it streamed through the windows, exposing all the flawed ways of your mind.

What does one kiss mean? 

Nothing, if it wasn’t minho who you had kissed. If it wasn’t as tender as the meeting of your lips. 

The tomorrow you believed far quickly came, and you still beheld no answers. A few hours drifted by and you still knew nothing. What does this kiss mean? It's late afternoon and you’re strolling through the park nearby and you can't find an answer. The question rings in your mind as you sit by a bench, and you still don’t know.

“You seem preoccupied,” a voice quips up nearby and you startle. You hadn’t even noticed the man sitting by your side. His arms crossed before his chest, making impressive muscles constrict beneath the snug fabric of his black shirt, a cascade of fluffy black curls sat at the top of his head, a slight smirk etched on his lips.

“Pardon?”

“I said you seem preoccupied.”

“No i heard that,” you roll your eyes subtly, “do i know you?”

“No. You just look worried, that's all.”

“You really don’t know me?” you ask, a tad apprehensive, unsure if this was someone else your memory faulted you of. 

“No? Are you a celebrity of some sorts?” he inquires, tone much more cheerful, angling his body towards you.

“No, i’m not,” you giggle, before quieting down, an exhausted sigh escaping your body. “Is it that obvious then?”

“Yeah. I’m afraid so,” he pouts sympathetically, tone almost desolate and you huff, burying your face in your hands.

“Do you need help with something?” he offers after a while, his concern evident in the frown of his brows. You are comforted by the anonymity of talking to a stranger, you were but a blank canvas to him. You wouldn't see him again, anyways. 

“I feel lost. I can't seem to find the answers I'm looking for.”

“Maybe you’re just not asking the right questions.”

Oh. 

The guy claps his hands suddenly, long before you could dwell on his words and their implications

“I actually have a question for you!” 

“Ask away.”

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

“No?” you chuckle, amusement dripping from your voice. “I don't know you?” 

“That's the point of a date.”

“Are you this bored?” you smile, arching an eyebrow at him. 

“I'm not bored. I just need to take my mind off things,” he shrugs, a slight smirk on his face. but you somehow see beyond it, right into the dull twinkle of his eyes. Maybe he also couldn’t find the answers he was looking for.

“So you're using me?” you fake outrage and he giggles, a high pitched sound that reverberates through the playground, making some kids nearby stare at you. You stifle a surprised laugh. 

“I'm not using you if I tell you upfront why I asked you out.”

“You are right, but i decline your kind offer,” you say solemnly and he nods, shaking his head in defeat.  

“Here is my card, in case you change your mind. Or need a little escape, call me,” he smiles, handing you a sleek black card before getting up and dusting his pants. “See you,” he says, as if he was sure you'd call him back. you stare in disbelief at his retreating figure, before glancing down at the card. 

Mr. Seo Changbin, you read, CEO of Gold’s Gym— the largest gym branch in the country.

Oh wow.

The amused smile lingers on your lips as you gaze ahead, lost in thought, contemplating the words spoken by Changbin. Maybe he was right; perhaps you are afraid of asking the right questions. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide to take the longer route home, eventually finding yourself outside your favorite bakery; the one you discovered on one of your many walks with Minho.

You go to open its door when an unexpected tingling at the back of your neck freezes you in your tracks. Your heart tightens in your chest as you turn around slowly, greeted by the sharp eyes of two familiar faces—Lia and Mari, your coworkers from before your accident. A tentative smile graces your lips, but the alarms of warning in your mind intensify. 

“Hey, yn!” 

“Hey, guys,” you greet back, taking a step backwards from them. 

“How have you been since… You know, your accident,” Lia pouts, but the question lacks sincerity, as if they were wearing masks before you, concealing their true intentions. You wonder which one they'll put on next.  

“Good, i’ve been good,” you force a smile, as their eyes move up and down your body, judgment dripping from their gaze.

“We wanted to come see you but we didn’t know if you were still at your listed address. Since your boyfriend lives there.”

“Oh, um, yeah, I still live there.”

“But didn’t you forget about him?” Lia feigns ignorance and you feel anxiety picking at your skin like relentless protruding needles. You want to run. 

“Lia that’s rude. I think he's her ex-boyfriend now," Mari chuckles, mockery palpable in her tone.

“Poor Minho, he must suffer a lot. Say hey to him from me,"Lia smiles, a chilling feline grin, her eyes narrowing down like a hawk peering at his prey. 

“I will.”

“We’ll see you at work. If you’re still able to keep up with the tasks,” they leave, ugly laughs echoing after them, and an urge to throw up overtakes you, the scent of pastries furthering your nausea. You hasten your steps toward your building.

You’re almost safe, almost, keys trembling in your hand as you struggle to enter your apartment, when the door adjacent to you opens. Your neighbors smile at you, although it is a gesture tinged with pity. You painfully smile back before slamming the door.

Yeart hammering in your chest, you press your back against the door, hand clawing at your throat. 

“Did you know she got into a car accident, and apparently she forgot her boyfriend?”

“Really? They were so cute though.”

“Yeah, it’s a shame.”

Their words suffocate you, stepping atop your lungs, syllables choking you from within. Is this what everything thought of you? Did they all pity you for the accident? For forgetting your lover? Did they see you as a burden, a parasite plaguing his life? Is this what Han and Chan saw when their eyes lingered on you? Is this what the librarian and florist whispered to each other each time you passed by? 

You didn’t know these people and yet they had their minds set on you, fixated storylines you couldn’t change, no matter how much you tried to rewrite them.

Your thoughts spiral like the unloosened screws of a ticking clock. Minho, the unanswered questions, the expectations of others—everything converges in the base of your mind, making your ears ring cacophonically within your skull.

You slide down the door, fingers trembling as you take out your phone then Changbin’s card from your pocket. You dial his number with haste. You needed a breather, to talk to someone who knew nothing of you, of who you were, of who you could be. 

“Hello?” his voice booms clearly through the phone.

“Changbin,” you breathe out. “Let's go on a date tomorrow.”

You were asleep when minho came back from work, your back turned towards him, soft exhales escaping your body. He didn't want to disturb you, so, he made sure to come earlier the next day, a strawberry and cream pastry in his hand that he knew you loved. Perhaps, you’d both talk about your kiss today, what it meant for you both. 

But, he doesn’t find you home. The only indication that you had just left was the lingering scent of your perfume, tickling his nose as if to mock him. Poor minho— the gardenia and honey tones spelled out in the air; the one fragrance you strictly reserve for dates. The one you used to put for him.

It looked like you found your answer after all. 

Day 33. 

“Did I keep you waiting?” 

“No, just in time,” you smile as Changbin pulls the chair in front of you, settling down with ease, a pang of confidence coloring his movements.

“How are you, today?” 

“Better, i think,” you falter under his scrutinizing gaze, your facade cracking. “I don't know, it’s all complicated,” you sigh and he nods, signaling for the waiter to take your drinks order. Chai latte for you, hot chocolate for him. 

“Spill, what’s preoccupying you?” he leans forward, arms crossed on the table. 

“You don’t even know my name,” you giggle, looking around at the warm interior. Cozy, faint music playing in the background, taupe chairs and amber tables, the smell of cinnamon rolls wafting through the air. Minho would like it here. 

“What's your name?”

“Yn.”

“Okay, Yn,” he emphasizes, a slight smirk on his face. “Spill.”

You shake your head as the waiter places down your drinks, wrapping your fingers around the heated cup, hoping the warmth would seep into your being through your palm lines. 

“Did you want to become a therapist by any chance?” you muse, arching an eyebrow at him.

“No, it’s just fixing others' problems helps me forget my own,” he winks and you snort at his honesty. it was admirable, how frank he was to a complete stranger. 

“Fine, it’s a long story, but basically…” you lick your lips, wondering what’s the best way to go on about this. “I got into a car accident and I lost my memory of the past year and so.”

Changbin winces at your words and you sigh. “Yeah. Except I was in a relationship before…”

“And you totally forgot about it?”

“I did. It hurt him a lot.” 

Changbin nods in understanding, taking a sip of his drink. He places his chin on his palm, carefully eyeing you. 

“But how does that make you feel?” 

“Me?”

“Yes, you. You're the one who lost your memories after all.” 

“I feel guilty for forgetting such a relationship.” 

“Why is that?”

“Because everyday i can see why I fell in love with him.”

“And you don't love him now?” 

“No,” you quickly say before pausing, shoulders dropping under the weight of your questioning. “I don't know. It's complicated.”

Changbin absentmindedly tugs at the charms of his bracelet, gaze flicking down to his wrist for a couple seconds, before locking on yours intently.  

“Describe him to me in one sentence.”

“You sound like my annoying French teacher,” you roll your eyes and he huffs, not offended in the least. “Look, I just want to know my competition.”

“Do you have a retort for everything?”

“What can I say? I'm witty and all that,” he shrugs confidently and you giggle before quieting down, muling over his question. “In a sentence…” you muse, fingers drumming along your cup. You don't even realize that a fond smile has unfolded on your lips, but Changbin does.

“He's the light rain that falls during spring, that makes the flower bloom and the smell of earth waft through the air. He brings things back to life, in a way.” 

Changbin smiles softly, tilting his head to the side. “Can you really not see it, or are you hiding the truth because you're scared?”

“What do you mean?” 

“Yn, he brought you back to life.” 

“I… no.” you pause, voice faltering. “Did he?” 

You see Minho pushing you on a wheelchair to your home. Minho protecting you from your mind. Minho washing your hair. Minho making you tea. Minho baring his soul to you. Minho helping you cook. Minho bringing the sea to you. Minho holding your hand. Minho comforting you before comforting himself. Minho forgiving you so you'd forgive yourself. Minho devastating himself so you'd piece your heart together. Minho, minho, minho.  

“Fuck, he did,” you whisper in realization, as a grand feeling swells in your heart suddenly, pushing your heart against the confines of your ribs. Flowers bloom into your entire body, petals melding into the coursing blood in your veins, butterflies fluttering their delicate wings across your chest, an effulgent light flooding in like the sun was spilled inside your very core. 

“Aren’t I so smart,” Changbin grins, satisfied at the awestruck expression on your face.

“What should I do?” you ask anxiously, gripping the edges of the table. 

“Go talk to him. Don't waste any more time.”

“You are right, oh my god,” you grab your purse, standing up abruptly. “I have to go, I…”

“It's okay, don't worry about me, I'm always the side chick,” he sighs in faux sadness and you giggle, swatting his shoulder. 

“Thank you so much. I'll repay you for this, I promise!” you start walking before stopping and turning around. 

“Oh and Changbin?”

“Yes?”

“You know what to do too. They made you that bracelet right? You haven't taken your eyes off of it.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, “those are my lines.”

“They are mine now too,” Laughter dances from your lips as you flee the café, taking off running to your home. It was near, merely a five-minute walk, nestled beside the playground where you encountered Changbin. Yet, urgency propels your steps, a fervent need to reach Minho swiftly. You had wasted thirty-three days, three million seconds that could’ve been spent with Minho. You don’t know how many more breaths the universe might extend, what if the stars tire of your reluctance and blow the winds of his love to another soul? You couldn’t stomach it. 

You climb up the stairs, chest heaving, breaths escaping your being in an erratic rhythm. you didn't even know what to say, your words remained unscripted, unsure of what confessions will spill forth when your eyes will meet Minho's. Yet, you're not worried. You know that whatever surfaces would be surging from your heart. 

What you don’t anticipate is for an uncharacteristic silence to find you at home, the scent of your perfume faintly wafting into the air. Minho sat in the living room, a bag by his side, his head downcast. The cats watching you from the corner of the room. 

A desert- dry sensation clings to your mouth, your tongue heavy as if crafted from lead. Your once vibrant excitement extinguishes, much like a match blown out, leaving only a lingering stench behind. 

“Minho?” 

“Yn,” he responds, eyes actively avoiding yours. “I was waiting for you. I... I'll be gone for a few days, a week at most.”

“What? Where to?”

“I already told my parents to come pick up the cats so you don't have to worry about feeding them. The fridge is stacked, so you-” his voice falters, “so don't worry about that either.”

“Minho... what-what are you saying?”

“I need time away, alone. I'm sorry, I tried, I tried so hard, Yn, but there is only so much I can take,” he whispers, and your heart shatters, tiny million pieces blown away by the wind.

“Minho, look at me,” you crouch before him, your hands resting on his knees. He still avoids your gaze.

“Minho, please,” you plead, and his eyes finally lock on yours. They glisten with tears, reflecting light akin to a celestial mirror.

“My heart hurts so much, but it's not your fault. Loving me once doesn't mean you'll love me again, and it's okay if you want to see other people. I just... I need to go somewhere, for a little. I need to make room for the pain because it's overwhelming me,” he confesses, his words eating at your insides. Was it too late? Have you lost him?

Minho gently takes away your hands before standing up. Fear overwhelms you as you watch his shoulders drop, his eyes glazing over the walls one last time. He will come back, but not here, not to you. He's bidding goodbye to the home and you because you killed his hope. He would leave everything behind but echoes of him that you'd be sentenced to hear alone, every day, every night.

“Minho,” you seize his wrist, “Minho, don't go.”

"Why?" he asks in the smallest voice you've heard from him. He's like a river cut off by a dam, yearning to run back home, to flow the way it used to, back to you. His heart rings loudly in his ears, pain overwhelming him, yet your touch calms him down. You are the knife and the medicine, the scorch and the cooling balm; you are everything at once.

“I'll make room in your heart, I'll take out all the bad weeds and start again. Just don't go.”

“What do you mean?” He's breathless, hope inflating in his heart, clouds parting to reveal the sun.

“I know things won't go back to the way they used to. I don't think I'll ever remember everything, but I want you to tell me,” there is a lump growing in your throat, but you push it away. Your voice breaks and cracks, yet you still speak. You need him to know.

“I want you to take me to all the places we've visited and then tell me how we fell in love in them. I want you to show me how I loved you,” your hand trails down his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, pulling him closer. “I want to learn you, what you like, what you hate, what makes you angry and what makes your heart flutter.”

“And I want to love you, not because you love me, but because my heart chose you," your hand travels up his arm, settling right down at his cheek. Your thumb swipes across his tender skin. “I choose you over and over again. It's you, Minho, it's always been you.”

“You want me again?” he says tentatively, eyes wide, pouring onto yours—your galaxy to love, to admire, to peer into for the rest of your life.

“I want you. Please don't go.”

“Swear it, please.”

Instead of ephemeral words, you softly press your lips to his, as you did last night. “I swear,” you whisper against his mouth. “I'm falling in love with you,” you peck his lips, hand snaking up against his neck, moving his mouth closer to yours. “Not falling,” you say, pressing your forehead to his, nuzzling his nose against your own. “I'm coming back. I'm coming home.”

“You came back to me,” he whispers, voice hoarse.

“I'll always do,” you promise, a grin overtaking your mouth. “Can you kiss me, Minho?”

Minho blinks in amazement, his eyes darting all over your face, each blink resembling the capture of an image. He's stitching this moment into his mind, the hue of your cheeks and the gleam in your eyes. He missed the way you're looking at him, the slight shiver running through you as he brushes his lips against your own, slowly savoring the feel of you so near. His hands find your jaw, cradling it softly, and then he kisses you, just like how he dreamed of doing for the past month.

The kiss is dizzying, far different from your previous one. You’re no longer grasping at elusive cigarette smoke, fleeting through the gaps between your fingers. You are no longer awaiting a beacon of remembrance to shine upon your mind. You have minho, and he's delicately nibbling your lower lip, eliciting a soft gasp from you. His tongue glides across the tingling expanse, soothing down the pang of hurt, asking you for more. You willingly give it to him in a fervent, whirlwind kiss, his hands finding solace in the curve of your waist, while yours become poets, weaving tales in his hair, tugging at his strands the way you've always yearned to. 

It is muscle memory, to press your body against his, to gasp into his mouth, to match the rhythm of his tongue, the way it circles tantalizingly around yours, the way you groan against his mouth, as he briefly parts from you, his giggle a sweet prelude to meeting your lips once again with increased fervor. His tongue weaves words against the roof of your mouth— I missed you, I want you, I love you.

Minho snakes his hand around your lower back, guiding you back until his legs find the couch. He eases you down, fingers hooked through the loop of your jeans. You kiss him again, a cadence as natural as breathing. Time unravels, rewinding to mend the fractures in his heart, erasing thirty-three days of heartbreak in mere seconds. You kiss him, again and again, thirty three days of longing exploding in your touch.  

“Are you crying?” you whisper against his lips, your thumbs delicately swiping across his damp cheeks. Unaware of his flowing tears, he closes his eyes, embarrassment coursing through him. “I'm here,” you reassure, peppering his face with kisses – from his ear to his nose, cheeks to the corner of his mouth. “I'm here, honey. I want you.”

“Only me?” he questions, tone fragile.

“Only you,” you kiss him again, tenderly, inhaling life through his lips. “Let me show you how much, hm?”

Your lips trace a path down his neck as you draw his shirt over his head. An ivory canvas, he is meant for you to mark, to touch however you desire. Your lips graze the scar on his stomach, kissing it in the way you've ached to do since two nights before.

You're sinking to your knees before him and yet you’re the one in control, rippling shivers all over his skin. He’s impatient, needing you close, so he quickly pulls you up, before hovering over you, his hands drawing everywhere, running wild across your body. He missed the plush feel of your skin, the contours of your body that he yearned to explore once again. He's a prisoner deprived of the light for so long, sinking into the sun once again. 

Minho's eyes never leave yours, as he touches you, moves in you in ways your soul seems to remember. He's gentle, removing strands of your hair out of your eyes, smoothing down the side of your head. All encompassing, drinking in your moans and groans, burning you up and soothing you all at once. “Good?” he asks, again and again, waiting to hear your affirmation before picking up speed again. Your answer is yes each time he asks, as he seals the void in you, the one he's been carefully stitching up for the past weeks. You store his glazed eyes and scrunched eyebrows in the gallery of your mind, you make room for new memories with Minho. 

You're overwhelming him, in the most beautiful ways, contradicting feelings coursing through him like a rain flood. He's aching yet relieved to have you beneath him, lost in waves of pleasure so he grabs your hand to anchor himself, entwining his fingers with yours, before bringing it to his mouth, placing a tender smile on your palm. You beam at him, trust reflecting in your eyes as you bare your being to him. It is a rare fortune to be chosen by you not once, but twice, he can't believe how lucky he is to have you as his guiding star.  

Your eyes never leave Minho’s, a shimmering pool mirroring your emotions. You see everything you feel in him—your better reflection. You had missed him, you were home now. “Miss you,” he whispers as he buries his face in your neck, seemingly hearing your thoughts. “Missed you so much,” he mumbles as your hands tangle in his hair, tears descending gently upon your cheeks, as they are on his. “Please don't leave me again.”

“I won't- I won't,” you promise, as light floods your vision, reaching the pinnacle of your pleasure. Colors burst before your eyes in a kaleidoscope, resembling shades of Minho— the warm brown of his eyes, the honeyed hue of his skin, the pink tint of his ears whenever he's embarrassed, the red of his lips, swollen as they kiss you. Tonight and tomorrow and every day after this one. 

Day 1.

In the hushed aftermath, your head rests upon Minho’s bare chest, listening to the quiet rhythm of his heartbeat, calming down as the seconds trickle by. His arm curls around your body protectively, keeping you from slipping off the couch. Your knuckles trail up and down his shoulders, soothing the places where you had scratched too hard. His hand seeks yours, delivering a kiss as tender as the silence enveloping you—quiet and secure. The forgotten past doesn't matter; you will rewrite your story once more.

“Do you think our designated stars are sad somewhere far away?”

“Why would they be?” 

“I don't know. Don't you think it's bittersweet how they missed out on so many days of loving one another?”

“I don't know, did they?” he muses, planting a tender kiss on your shoulder. “I think mine loved you all the same.” 

#stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids imagine #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #skz au #skz reactions #stray kids reactions #lee know imagines #lee know fluff #skz fanfic #stray kids fanfic #lee know x reader #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz fanfiction #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fic #lee know angst #lee know fanfic #lee minho x reader

[temis-de-leon]

MC with a selfish best friend

MC mourning the loss of a long toxic friendship with the help of the brothers.

Characters: demon brothers and fem!MC (written as platonic, but could be read as romantic)

Masterlist

CW: continued discussion about weight gain and weight loss, eating as a coping mechanism, obssesive and manipulative behaviour, emotional blackmail, a glimpse of animal neglect, a tiny nod at suicide, MC trying to hide her feelings, anxiety, TLC from the brothers

A/N: kind of self insert because I'm writing my own experience, so this isn't the most relatable MC. Still, I hope you enjoy it! Remember I'm not a native english speaker, so there might be some grammar mistakes.

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Back then, not that long ago, MC was completely sure she wouldn’t go any further in life. She was stuck in college, in her family and her friend group. There was a dynamic she could work through and, although it could be better, she wasn’t one to complain.

It was a flooded basement with filthy water, but at least it lacked rats.

She just needed some time to start working on herself. Go to therapy, lose some weight maybe? Start cooking again and stop wasting money on fast food. She did use to enjoy spending time in the kitchen and experimenting, after all, but the only things she cooked during her last months in the human realm were mugcakes and pasta. Not necessarily nutritious, but easy to make.

Thank god she had her best friend.

Her companion in the basement, the one with the flashlight.

MC wished she let her hold her hand too.

.

.

“She’s overthinking again. Not good”

“Look who’s talking”

“Hey! It was just a joke!”

“Should we talk to her?”

“Maybe when she comes back, else we’ll give her a heart attack”

“Yeah, Lucifer would kill us”

“Oh, so now we’re doing this for Lucifer?”

“Don’t be selfish, Mammon”

“Who ya calling selfish?”

“Ugh”

MC listened carefully, softly smiling at Beel and Levi’s voices drowning Mammon’s in an almost silent screaming match.

She couldn’t see them from her position, her upper body completely sprawled over the armrest and her line of sight lost in the ashes of the chimney. The fire cracked, threatening to die in front of her, but it was difficult to get up when her body weighted so much. She was tired and hungry and nauseous and even the idea of sitting straight sent bile to her mouth.

Then someone walked into the common room, shushing harshly and getting the other brothers to cease their fighting. Whoever it was, probably Lucifer or Satan, must have thought she was asleep.

So MC closed her eyes, hiding her face in the crook of her arm and basking in the comfortable silence. She could hear them still; the shuffle of cards, a plastic wrapper, buttons and joysticks.

The newcomer got close to her, covering her body with a blanket and sitting at her feet before opening a book. There was enough space in the couch for at least two more people, but MC still curled up, trying to make more room for him. She stopped in her tracks when he grabbed her ankle in a gentle grip, a gesture that brought some warmth where her pants didn’t reach.

Would someone add another log for the fire? Everyone seemed too comfortable to move.

At least the blanket was thick. Pure hellish wool or something, because every animal in the Devildom was just a bigger scarier version of those in the human realm. It was also, however, softer than any type of textile she could’ve ever find back home, so the creature could spit fire for all she cared.

Suddenly, the brother caressing her ankle tightened his grip for a short moment, demanding her attention. When MC opened her eyes, she found Satan smiling at her with no one else in the room. She must’ve fallen asleep after all.

“Dinner is ready”

He let her stretch, unconsciously comparing her to a cat when she arched her back and cracked every possible bone in her body. Satan wondered if that ever hurt, but MC seemed to enjoy it very much whenever she had the occasion to do so, like when they came home from classes after a long day or when they bought groceries for the whole week and Beel. 

“Did you not sleep well last night?”

“Not for a while, no”

“Is that so? Something troubling you, MC? Anything I can help with?”

“I don’t know”

She sounded sincere, but Satan didn’t buy it. Only a month had passed since MC came back to the Devildom, looking a bit more tired than when she left at the end of the first year of the program, and she’d acted ecstatic when she learnt she would be living with them again.

He was sure the problem relied in her human phone, something she didn’t have last year and Diavolo had kindly allowed her to keep.

All of his brothers, even the eldest, were greatly impressed when MC showed them how she unlocked the device with her fingerprints, as well as the human versions of Devilgram, Deviltube and Akuzon. That was a fun day, but time passed and soon the phone became an inconvenience. Someone at the other side of the line was taking their beloved human’s time, leaving her exhausted in the aftermath of their conversations and, if Satan vision’s was correct, teary eyed.

That would not continue. Not on his watch.

“We’ll look into it in another moment. Right now, let’s go with the others. Aren’t you hungry?”

“God, yes!”

They both chuckled and he forced his thoughts away. They could wait for the time being.

.

.

Beel didn’t judge her, but she didn’t feel as happy as she thought she would whenever they sneaked in the kitchen at the late hours of the night.

Opening the fridge door with slow movements, trying not to make noise while taking plates or bowls and eating in silence between giggles and short whispers brought a sort of familiarity. And Beel never judged MC. Why would he? He ate even more than her. He’d keep going long after she was finished, full enough to want to puke everything, and MC would feel a wicked satisfaction knowing that no matter how much she ate, there was someone that would eat much more.

Those nights she’d go to bed feeling sick and greasy, too regretful and high on sugar to be tired. Then, by morning, she’d force herself to eat breakfast and go on with her day just to get whatever sense of normality she could reach.

Although, lately, things had been slightly different.

They still got together at night and filled their mouths to the brim, but Beel was adamant about MC going to the gym with him when the morning came, before everyone was out of bed. Of course she’d said no since the beginning, but he kept insisting, saying she didn’t have to exercise if she didn’t want to.

MC still said no.

Then Asmodeus put his input.

“I’m not going to tell you what to do, hon’, but you aren’t getting your 8 hours of sleep and you’re adding calories during the night. That’s horrible for your skin!”

And had it been her mother saying that, MC would’ve lashed out, rejecting opinions she’d been hearing for years over and over and over again, but this was Asmo. The Avatar of Lust. The most beautiful demon in the entire Devildom. MC guessed she wasn’t being fair to her mother, who also loved her and hated seeing her so sick and tired all the time, when it was Asmo she couldn’t ignore.

“I get anxious when I go to bed” she finally confessed.

MC could feel Satan’s eyes on her, but he stayed silent.

“Spend the night with me” intervened Belphie with an honest smile, a muted worry in his eyes “I could make you so tired you wouldn’t want to get out of bed”

“No way!”

Everyone looked at Mammon and several sighs filled the room. The demon, although deeply blushing, kept talking with an overbearing smugness.

“If someone’s gonna sleep with her, it’s gonna be me! Don’t worry MC, the Great Mammon will chase the nightmares away!”

“I think sleeping with you would give her nightmares, actually”

Mammon turned to Levi, ready to swing at his brother, but MC talked before the fight started.

“It’s not nightmares, Mams, I just feel anxious. You know, like, I can’t stop thinking”

“About what?”

She looked at Satan, who was staring at her with a calculating glance, surely remembering what she told him days before when she fell asleep on the couch.

“I don’t know… Everything, I guess”

All of them stayed silent, ignoring what they were previously doing. It didn’t feel uncomfortable, but MC wished someone said anything.

Of course, Mammon spoke first.

“Well, that’s a lot”

“No shit, you moron”

Levi finally got smacked and the rest of them went back to do their own thing, letting MC’s lack of sleep behind. A part of her wanted to keep the conversation going, but she felt too embarrassed when she tried to open her mouth again, especially having Satan looking at her like a hawk.

You don't want me to stare at you? I want to. What's the problem?

She achieved to ignore him in the end.

That night she stayed in her room, pacing, chewing her sweatshirt’s aglet while humming that Phineas and Ferb’s song and turning her headphone’s volume to the maximum with a different music threatening to deteriorate her hearing.

Anything to distract herself and not go to the kitchen.

Finally, hours after bidding the brothers goodnight, MC threw herself on the bed. Her feet were aching, its footprints surely engraved in the carpet, and she forgot to take her headphones off, making the position uncomfortable, but the important thing was that she didn’t have the need to eat anymore.

However, Beel still knocked her door at dawn.

MC stared at him when she opened, bleary-eyed and mouth as dry as cotton, the hem of her pyjama pants so high they looked like pantaloons. He, on the other hand, was completely awake and seemed ready to conquer the day.

“Before you say anything, I’m not going to the gym today”

There was a heavy silence for a couple of seconds.

“Then why did you wake me up? We have classes tomorrow”

Beel stared at her with a worried expression.

“We don’t. It’s Saturday”

“Ah”

She could’ve sleep longer? MC wished she was mad at him, but his puppy stare was hypnotizing.

“I want to go for a walk today. And I want you to come with me”

He lowered his gaze for a moment, biting his cheek while waiting for an answer. MC turned around and looked at the window, still unable to decipher what time it was by looking at the sky.

There were a few things MC missed from the human realm. The sun was one of them.

“We could go to the park, feed some birds and then have breakfast somewhere else. I swear I won’t eat the seeds this time"

She chuckled, rolling her eyes when he smiled back. Then she looked down at the rolled pants and her bare legs.

“Is it cold?”

“I don’t think so, but you can borrow my jacket”

MC sighed and rubbed her eyes, waiting until the white spots disappeared before walking towards her closet. She wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again, she knew that.

“Let me change and then we’re going. But you owe me one, Beel!”

His smile was too wide for him to answer.

.

.

Breakfast with Beel ended up lasting three whole hours, which was understandable, and they spent the whole time talking about nothing and almost everything, both of them clearly avoiding the subject of her sleeping habits.

MC really did want to talk about it, but then again, what did she want to talk about exactly? She had trouble falling asleep, yes, and she’d gone back to eating her feelings, but she couldn’t point out the reason. Her nights were filled with paranoia, making her revaluate every piece of interaction she’d had since she got back home from the Devildom months ago. Did she spoke correctly? Did people understand that she was just studying abroad and not begging for attention?

She hoped her best friend dropped those accusations. MC would never stoop so low. Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes.

“Don’t you want anything else?”

MC looked at Beel and the stack of plates surrounding him at the table, mugs and cardboard boxes stained with chocolate, whipped cream and frosting. Her side of the booth was much cleaner, but when she lowered her gaze the only thing she could think of were mugcakes and pasta and the taste of bile in her mouth at the sight of her bloated stomach.

“No, I’m fine”

She knew he loved her. She knew she could talk to him and he would listen and maybe even hold her hand, but the small restaurant was already filled with demons and witches and whatnot and MC knew she’d only be able to sob the moment she’d open her mouth, so she stayed quiet.

Beel nodded, going back to his food with a strange calmness. Maybe he was close to being full?

But no, it wasn’t that.

MC gasped when she felt his foot weakly tapping hers before going under it to support its weight. A small comfort, like the prelude of a long awaited hug.

He didn’t know how much she appreciated it.

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Winter had already reached the Devildom the day MC opened her closet and stared at her clothes. No matter what she chose, everything was at least a size bigger.

She guessed finally going to the gym with Beel did have some payoff.

“Is something wrong, MC?”

Asmo turned the lights of her bathroom off, walking where she was silently standing while staring at the discarded clothes around her.

“You don’t feel like dressing up today? We can stay home and do some self-care if you want”

MC turned around to look at him with gratitude. She knew how much he wanted to go shopping, especially with her. Finals ended just the day before and everyone had been so occupied they’d barely seen each other outside classes and meal times.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that. It’s just that… everything feels wrong. I think I lost weight”

He chuckled at her revelation, hugging her waist and kissing her cheek between giggles.

“You’re taking care of yourself, silly! Whatever are you doing with Beel in the gym, I wonder…?”

She laughed and lightly hit his arm, showing no ill intent, and Asmo smiled in response, not bothering to hide his lewd expression.

“Don’t be nasty!”

 “Oh, I’m just joking! But you know what this means, right? We get to renew your whole closet!”

MC turned around again, perfectly knowing that she could either spent her monthly allowance on clothes or start thinking on how she could rock the oversize streetwear style.

She sighed, trying to hide her smile with no success before speaking again. Asmo’s eyes were stuck on her.

“Very well, then” she wasn’t finish talking yet when the demon clapped his hands and jumped in excitement “I’ll trust your criteria”

He gasped and hit her arm in return.

“As you should!”

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.

“So… how do I look?”

Mammon whistled, clapping and signalling her to turn around in response. Once she did a little twirl, he clapped even harder, not stopping even when she blushed in embarrassment and ran towards him to stop his overly excited appreciation.

“You look mighty fine, MC!”

“Stop!”

“Has anyone ever told you how hot you look?”

“Stop!!”

They were both laughing, her chasing him all around his room with burning cheeks and a gigantic smile.

The shopping bags waited patiently at the door, half of them already empty with a pile of clothes folded on the couch. Mammon had insisted on a private catwalk the moment he learnt she’d gone shopping with Asmo, his offense completely gone barely half an hour after starting the show in his room.

Every time she changed in his opened closet he’d cover his eyes with his hands and every time she came out with a new outfit he’d scream praises like a madman.

MC wasn’t used to this level of compliments and he sure was making it hard to stay calm.

“C’mon, go change again!”

“You’re acting insane right now, Mams”

She was smiling like crazy and her cheeks were hurting, but she didn’t want it to stop. When was the last time someone had been this hyped over her looking pretty? She couldn’t remember.

Then her phone rang.

MC stopped smiling when she saw the name on the screen.

She thought about answering and spoiling a nice evening because of a sour one-sided conversation. Was it worth it? Sure her friend could wait a couple more hours, right? She’d survived without MC the whole year she spent at the Devildom uncommunicated, after all.

“Is it The Unnameable?”

MC stared at her phone for one more second before turning around to look at Mammon, who was kneeling on the couch with his arms crossed over the backrest, eyes peeking with curiosity and another feeling she couldn’t identify.

“The Unname… Robdemor??”

He nodded, blushing and looking away.

“Yeah. You know, like, her name brings bad luck or some shit”

“She doesn’t bring bad luck”

MC didn’t sound as convincing as she wanted to and Mammon’s incredulity proved her point.

“Don’t be stupid, MC”

The pot calling the kettle back, she wanted to say, but no words came to her mouth. She was being stupid, wasn’t she? Everyone at the house already knew what to expect whenever her phone ringed or vibrated and they always did their best to distract her so she could leave the damn thing behind. She suspected Belphie even turned it off at one point.

Staring at her feet, trying to voice her feelings, MC talked again.  

“She just… needs me sometimes”

“Sometimes??”

Mammon got up, going around the couch to reach her. He looked flabbergasted, eyes opened wide and a myriad of words stuck in his throat.

The phone stopped ringing, but soon a flood of messages interrupted the silence to call for her attention instead. When she looked back at Mammon, he had frustration in his eyes.

She decided then she couldn’t bear to see him like this, so serious and reasonable. Was it too late to go back to chasing each other, laughing while trying new clothes? She’d been capable of keeping her feelings to herself since she could remember, but Mammon wouldn’t let her do that and she feared the moment the rest of the brothers decided enough was enough too.

God, she needed to talk, but not right now. Talking would make it real and she still wasn’t strong enough for the whole situation to be real.

In a matter of seconds her eyes were watering and she felt as if her throat had thorns stuck in her flesh, but before she could do anything about it there were arms wrapping around her. MC wasted no time hugging Mammon back, trying her hardest not to spoil any tears. The tags in the back of her new shirt poked her skin, making her squirm and get even closer to Mammon’s body.

He was rocking her side to side while petting her hair and there was no doubt he’d deny the whole ordeal happening afterwards, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyways. It was nice being taken care of.

.

.

It was the first time MC had gone to bed so early since before college. Her eyelids felt heavy and the bed was soft and comfortable, at least three blankets shielding her from the cold outside that froze her window and sunk her room in darkness.

But she couldn’t stop staring at her phone.

She’d turned the vibration off days ago, but that didn’t stop the notifications from showing up on the lock screen and, although she could also take care of that, MC still wanted to be able to read the messages without needing to open the app.

Her best friend talked about everything, good or bad. Mostly bad. How she thought her boyfriend was cheating on her, even when she was the one cheating on him, how much she was eating because there was no one to stop her, how tired she was to even clean her cat’s litter box. She’d say if MC were there everything would be so much better, she wouldn’t feel so lonely.

She didn’t ask about MC once.

“You’re thinking so hard it’s giving me a headache”

MC’s body violently jerked at Belphie’s voice.

He’d entered the room in silence, closing the door and approaching her bed without making any noise. Seeing her freaking out made him snicker, but he was too tired to fully laugh and simply laid down next to her.

“Jesus, Belphie”

“No, just me”

“Ha ha ha”

Her sarcasm didn’t affect him in the slightest. MC watched as he closed his eyes and offered his hand to held hers in a firm grasp, probably not wanting to let her go during the night.

“Turn that damn thing off” he growled against the pillow when a new message showed up.

“I’ve seen you sleep on the ground before; you can’t complain about some light”

“Watch me”

She thought he was just joking, challenging her like a small child would, but Belphie managed to surprise her when he rolled over her body, grabbed the phone and threw it to the other side of the room.

“Belphie!”

He shushed, sealing her lips under his hand before hugging her body with all four limbs, trapping her under the covers.

MC could’ve complained and hit him until he let her go to retrieve the phone, but that would’ve meant pissing him off and staring at the screen for another hour or until her friend decided it was time to show some interest in MC’s life.

…

Whoa.

…

So that’s what it was.

That simple, uh?

MC waited for something to happen at her epiphany. Nausea, panic, heavy breathing. Instead, she felt an overpowering sense of relief. Her heartbeat evened and the frown she didn’t know she had in her forehead disappeared.

No headache, no memories. For once, no nothing.

“You’re not dying, aren’t you?”

Belphie’s head rose, looking at her with suspicion, but her eyes were stuck in the ceiling.

“Why? Would you feel guilty?

He stood over her then, pouting and frowning, and MC had to stop herself from laughing.

“Okay, you know what? I already said I was sorry. You can’t hold that against me for the rest of your life”

“I will as long as I can get something out of it”

“You’re evil”

“Said the demon”

His head fell face first on the pillow with a thud and if she didn’t know him any better, she’d be worried about him suffocating to death during the night.

“Why did you ask that, tho?” MC finally talked.

“Your heart stopped for a second” he shrugged and mumbled, his hold on her hand stronger than before.

“Oh… Well… Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“Are you sure?”

No, not really, but she didn’t want to talk about it in that moment. Maybe another time, when her speech wasn’t slurred due to sleep and she could organize her thoughts with a clear mind.

She hummed as an answer before speaking one last time.

“Goodnight, Belphie”

“Sweet dreams, MC”

He’d make sure of that.

.

.

MC had been quiet for a while. Not out of sadness nor ire, but something much more private. Something that left her pensive and still, staring into nothing with a serious expression. She laughed and talked with the brothers and, from what he heard, she enjoyed going to the gym with Beel, but Lucifer knew there was another factor escaping his reach.

Whatever it was, it changed MC for the better, so he was happy.

Even when the strangest ideas crossed her mind.

“I think I’m going to cut my hair”

He looked at her, clicking his tongue in disapproval when he saw her sitting sideways in one of the chairs with her feet resting in the other. She had a book resting in her lap. How long had she been looking at him and not reading?

“May I ask why?”

“I need a change”

Lucifer stared, taking his glasses off before crossing his arms over the document he was previously reading. MC got up and walked, zigzagging her way towards his desk as if she was drunk, but she looked as hopeful as ever.

“Did something happen?”

She nodded, ignoring his question right after.

“One of these days I’m just gonna… grab a glass of wine, go to the bathroom and bam! Haircut”

He raised an eyebrow, trying to hide a smile at her words. He hadn’t seen her so playful in months and the sudden change felt like a breath of fresh air.

“Do you even like wine, MC?”

“That’s not the point”

“And you shouldn’t use scissors while drunk, especially near your head” he ignored her “If it’s money you’re worried about, I can pay for a good hairdresser”

She laughed and shook her head, partially sitting on the desk. They stayed silent for a few seconds and Lucifer let himself observe her, how she bit her bottom lip deep in thought and how her fingers intertwined with a certain force. She was probably hurting herself at that point.

“I just really need a change”

He could tell there was more she wanted to say, but that seemed to be enough for the moment. The silence afterwards felt full with comfort.

“That’s fine”

MC nodded and sent him a small smile before going back to the chair, this time sitting with her knees stuck to her chest, but before he could put his glasses on to continue his work, she spoke again.

“Here’s what we’re going to do: I cut my hair in the bathroom and then you take me to the hairdresser to style it. Sounds good?”

“Are you going to drink while using the scissors?”

“I’m not a child, Lucifer”

“Might as well”

“Hey!”

“Just joking” he laughed, but MC could tell there was some seriousness behind his smile.

“I drink wine, I cut my hair and you check I don’t stab myself on accident, how about that?”

Lucifer pondered about it, envisioning himself behind her and watching over her reflection in the mirror, a bottle of wine in the countertop and another of Demonus waiting for them in the music room. She’d be the one to clean the aftermath, that bit was obvious, but something told him she wouldn’t really care about that.

The more he thought about it, the less strength he had to fight it. She could’ve asked Asmodeus or Mammon, but she asked him. MC wanted him to be with her during her progress, as stupid as the method was.

“Sounds like a plan to me, MC”

Her smile at his words was worth millions.

.

.

It wasn’t until several hours had passed that MC wondered if Levi invited her to his room with a hidden motive in mind.

The anime came out less than a day ago and she’d never even seen an ad about it, but he’d thoroughly claimed it was made for her.

And she could see why he would say that, honestly.

Sure, no ancient dying star granted her any mystical powers that allowed her to soar the skies or wear an alarmingly short sparkly dress; and she didn’t have an animal sidekick or a romantic interest that only appeared at night for some reason. She didn’t have an arch nemesis either, but she did have the closest thing.

MC was the selfish one, apparently, because how could she? How could MC have the audacity to ignore her best friend’s messages in her desperate times of need? Her boyfriend broke up with her because he discovered the cheating and no one was there to remind her of feeding the cat, neither to monitor her diet nor to fix the consequences of her bad decisions. She was in the lowest point of her life and MC dared to lose weight and spend time with her new friends? Outrageous!

MC unlocked her phone and stared in silence at the new text and voice messages, as well as some missed calls.

You disappoint me, MC.

After all I did for you?

I’ll die and it’ll be your fault.

I’ll die and I’ll make sure you’re the one to discover my body.

You’ll never be able to forget about me then.

You’re disgusting.

MC stared at the screen, not knowing if she should laugh or cry about it. In the end she chuckled and forced down the sting in her throat.

The TV in front of her suddenly turned into a kaleidoscope and she squinted as the heroine jumped from platform to platform, blasting her wand and singing spells. If she understood correctly, the cheery character was fighting her way through the first big boss of the season, her friends close behind her.

She could feel Levi’s eyes on her, no doubt studying her reactions to see if she liked the anime as much as he did.

“Hey, Henry!”

MC turned to look at him and smiled brightly at his rosy cheeks. She expected him to explain some hidden lore or the meaning behind the soundtrack, but he surprised her with his next words.

“Yeah?”

“I haven’t told you yet, but your hair looks so cool!”

“Oh!” she widely opened her eyes in appreciation, showing her teeth in a beaming smile right after “Thanks, Levi!”

“You look… eh… upgraded. Well, no, not upgraded. Erm…” he avoided her gaze for the next few seconds before pausing the anime, letting the room go back to silence. MC kept quiet, trying not to laugh at his awkwardness so he wouldn’t misunderstand the situation.

“You look really pretty, MC. Even better than her”

Levi nodded at the TV and MC stared at the heroine, the pause conveniently showing her winning pose. Big sparkly eyes winking at her and a knowing smile occupying half of her face, as if she was approving Levi’s affirmation.

MC felt the need to cry right then and there, but she held it in.

Her phone lighted up one last time before she grabbed it and turned it off in anger. She had a couple of seconds before the screen permanently went back to black, letting her read the last message.

Who do you think you are? How could you do this to me?

MC seethed. She knew who she was, even if she was still learning. Her hands itched and she forced herself not to throw the phone on the ground with all her strength. She still needed it to talk to other friends and relatives, after all.

After an entire minute filled with tense silence, MC spoke, suddenly meek and shy.

 “Hey Lev…”

“MC?”

He was staring her with caring eyes, unsure of what to do or what to say.

Fortunately, for the first time in a long while, MC knew what she needed to do. For herself and no one else.

“Would you help me change my phone number?”

She could write down the numbers of those she cared about the most and send a message asking them not to share hers without her permission.

Take care of her arch nemesis without destroying the entire world. Accept the help of people who showed joy at her improvement. Buy new clothes, change her style, cut her hair.

God, walking without that heavy weight on her shoulders would be difficult and painful, but she’d rather die before letting her ex best friend destroy her will and power one last time.

She laughed with a choke and Levi gasped her name.

She was crying.

.

.

.

@ourfinalisation

#obey me #obey me! shall we date? #om! shall we date #om! swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me writing #obey me x reader #obey me x female reader #obey me hurt/comfort #obey me angst #obey me fluff

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mc get´s kidnapped by Demon worshipers and has a nice conversation with their Demons

Lucifer:

for some reasons robe wearing weirdos kidnapped you while you were in the Human World on behalf of Lucifer

and turns out they wanted to use you as a sacrifice to summon Lucifer

I mean not how that thing works but hey if they want to see Lucifer fine by you, I mean it won´t be your death sentence so you don´t care about what will happen

and yeah at first they cheered but as soon as they noticed Lucifer was freeing you and looking at them with more anger than you ever saw from him

it went from happy cheering to blood chilling screams very fast

but you got cuddles with Cerberus and how many snacks as you wanted from Lucifer so pretty great day in your book

Mammon:

so not only do you get kidnapped by golden robe wearing weirdos but they also want to throw you into a pot of melted and burning hot Gold to summon Mammon?

pretty weird if you ask me but hey if they so desperately want Mammon you can get him for them but you already know he will be pissed about his Human nearly getting sacrificed

and he was reaaaally pissed about them trying to sacrifice the Great Mammon´s Human!

he killed them so fast they didn´t even get a chance to scream for mercy

after that he just collected you, and the Gold because that´s a lot and he can earn a lot of Grimm with it, and went back home

after that both of you just spent the reminder of the day together and had a nice sleepover, or rather Mammon was scared of you getting kidnapped again and refused to let og of you no mater what

and when I say no matter what I mean he tried following you to the toilet

Leviathan:

so you got kidnapped by a bunch of introverts who wanted the Avatar of Envy, honestly if they didn´t kidnap you they could have been online friends with Levi

but hey if they want to see him angry not only because they kidnapped his Henry but also because they distracted him from a limited time re-run from his favorite Anime fine by you

and wow that was one hell of a view, you thought he would have just drowned or killed them using Lotan but nope he also killed some of them

if he didn´t blush from your praise about him being really cool in this moment he would have seemed even cooler

he also invited you to watch his Anime with him, probably because he needs to make sure his Henry won´t disappear again

Satan:

yeah uh so you didn´t summon him this time, some people just took you with them while you and Satan were playing with a bunch of kittens

and he just tracked you down, needless to say those guys didn´t even have the smallest survival chance

you never saw Satan this brutal usually you thought the worst you saw of him when a Demon kicked a Cat, but no this is like this time times a million

all that was leftover at the end of the day was pulverized bones, blood and some mushy flesh that once made up a Human body, if the smell didn´t made you nauseous you would have been almost impressed

after all of this the both of you just went back to play with the kittens and as understandable as it was the kittens kept their distance from Satan, which crushed him

Asmodeus:

someone just took you when both of you went shopping in the Human world

Asmo was looking at a new dress for himself and when he turned around you were gone, which isn´t that uncommon but after being gone for a day he got really concerned

and shortly after him getting concerned you summoned him and man was he pissed, not only did those guys cause him to worry about you but they also caused him to get a grey hair because of them, the nerve of some people!

after Asmo freed you, both of you just decided to not give those guys anymore attention you just locked them in their building and burned it down

afterwards you and Asmo had a nice nap together as if nothing ever happened and you didn´t just burn who knows how many people to death \^-^/

Beelzebub:

so you got kidnapped in the Human world by stereotypical Devil Worshipers, pretty boring and shows their lack of creativity if you ask me

and all they need you for was an edible sacrifice for Beel, which to be honest if it wasn´t you he would have probably eaten it guess lucky for the random person who didn´t get chosen

but hey if the want to feed Beel I´m sure he would love to eat them instead :)

which is what he did after you summoned him, it surprised you how fast he managed to eat them you would have thought eating a Human would take more time but nope he just finished them in seconds

afterwards Beel just took you with him to Hell´s Kitchen, seems like the only thing those Cultist did was make him hungrier

Belphegor:

why would anybody even want Belphie? even more so kidnapping you so you can serve as the sacrificial lamb

like what could they even need the Avatar of Sloth for? He doesn´t do much besides sleeping and making life difficult for Lucifer

but hey if they want Belphie they can have him but he won´t appreciate getting woken up and I guess the fact that people kidnapped you to kill you

guess you´ll just have to sit back and enjoy the show and man that´s one hell of a blood bath

guess his hatred for Humans isn´t completely gone

but hey you got some nice nap hours out of it without him trying to kill you so honestly you don´t care about what happened

Diavolo:

honestly you are more surprised that Diavolo can even be summoned than by the fact they have to kill 33 sinners to even hope they can reach him

bad for them you did actually spent time with Diavolo before you just disappeared

and man he was not happy when he found you

he really showed why he´s the Prince of the Devildom, it was really unusual to see Diavolo not just as a happy go lucky guy as always but as the future ruler of the Devildom

he didn´t even get rid of the blood before he just picked you up and locked you in the Demon Lord´s Castle

he really doesn´t want to risk you getting in any kind of danger again

Barbatos:

both of you were working in the garden and having a little competition over who can make the prettier bouquet, Barbatos excuse on spending time with you and giving you pretty flowers

when suddenly you were gone and all that was left were a couple of flowers

needless to say he was pissed and immediately went off to look for you and he didn´t think it was possible but his mood worsened when he saw you that you got kidnapped by people who thought sacrificing you would summon him

well they succeeded in summoning him but unfortunate for them he was in an extremely bad mood

he completely destroyed everything there it look like a bomb went off there afterwards he just cleaned you and brought you to bed

while watching you of course he can never forgive himself is someone steals you form under his nose ever again

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me! #obey me lucifer #lucifer avatar of pride #mammon avatar of greed #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan avatar of envy #obey me satan #satan avatar of wrath #asmodeus avatar of lust #obey me asmodeus #beelzebub avatar of gluttony #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #belphegor avatar of sloth #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

[moonsaver]

hi!! i just wanted to say that the way that you write yandere characters is very unique and frankly amazing. like i love the fact that you don't make them overly violent like other people have and i also like how you have written the mc.

can i make a request of nsfw headcannons with yan!aventurine with female reader? thank you so much. have a great day!!!

Hello anon! Thank you for the feedback. Sorry i delayed your request so much, haha.

– fem-bodied reader, but mainly referred to as "you", no pronouns.

Nsfw below the cut!

Honestly? Yan!Aventurine is so damn pathetic. He's so used to feeling unwanted and repulsed by, so he's constantly begging on his knees for your affection. It starts out as a facade of confidence, but when you keep denying and shifting away from him, it snaps something, and he's on his knees, needy and desperate compromises, offering to do whatever you want – you want him to dom you? Tie you down and fuck you mindless? He'll do it! You want him to sub? He'll take it! You can fuck him silly and pull his hair back as harshly as you want, just please let him touch you and be touched by you.

Practically, it's absolute desperate sex

If you're still hesitant, and keep refusing him, keep telling him you don't want to do it, he'll just take it into his own hands

You definitely aren't disgusted by him, right? Definitely not! No, no, he can't allow that. You just have a hard time choosing! It's okay, it's alright! He understands! His own needy and desperate begging soon drowns out your own pleading for him to stop, and he thinks maybe he should just fuck you and let you know just how good he can make you feel. Both of your cries turn into moaning into each other's mouths, sooner or later.

Fingering? It's almost his favourite thing to do. He goes so mercilessly fast, his fingers plunging deep into your sopping wet cunt. If it's not wet enough or he hasn't done any foreplay, it's alright! He'll spit on it, and coat his fingers with his saliva. Stop squirming! He's taking such good care of you! Makes you squirt and cum so hard, but your desperate, incoherent babbling makes him think he's not done just enough, and keeps scissoring your swollen cunt all nice and deep, rubbing your clit, his eyes obsessively scanning the weak twitching and arching of your body, an almost psychotic and delusional smile on his face as he watches your body reach it's nth climax, curling his fingers in just the right spot, your face contorting into such a pretty expression, just as he wanted it to happen. Finally, he asks you if it was enough, licking your slick off of his fingers while looking into your eyes. He can always please you more, you know?

Penetration is almost similar to fingering. Or it's the complete opposite. The junction of that decision mainly happens when his tip is inside of you, and he's asking you all sorts of things, describing the things he wants to do to you in detail, rubbing your swollen tits so nicely, until you writhe under him. Oh? Sorry, he can't let you go! You probably don't want to, you just dont know how good he can fuck you! And he does just that. 

If you're not so fucked out until you cant think, he goes fast and hard, loud slapping noises bounce off the walls, his dick hits you g-spot so hard and nice it makes you see stars. His smile is so wide and cocky when he sees your dazed expression, and he only goes faster, moaning and whining into your ear, telling you just how good you're taking him, that he'll take such good care of you, he loves you so so much and, his own whining and talking is interrupted by a loud moan, as his cum shoots into you, hot and sloshing into your cunt. He relaxes for a bit, whining more into your ear before his hasty and sloppy pace picks up, hitting you hard and fast all over again, relishing the feeling of his cum mix with your slick and drip down onto the bed.

If you're already dazed and overstimulated, he's very loving. Cooing softly at you as he fucks you all nice and slow, dragging his throbbing length against your gummy walls, telling you how lucky he is to have you, asking you desperately what you want, want him to go faster? Slower? Do you like it? Why aren't you answering? Oh well, he guesses he just has to fuck you better. Keeps going slow until your climax is absolutely on the edge of crashing down on you, and then rams himself into you, moaning like a bitch into your ear when he cums inside of you

Absolute oral fixation. If he doesn't force your first time in bed with him into fingering you, it's eating you out like he's drunk on your slick.

Desperately begs into your ear to let him taste you, asks you to suffocate him, ride him or just use him, just please let him taste your sweet cum on his tongue! He begs and begs until he just can't take it and pushes you to the nearest cushioned surface, rips off whatever clothing you have and absolutely devours you. Sucks on your clit desperately and moans when you squirm and pull on his hair to try and get him off of you. Fingers roughly and sloppily plunge into you, his tongue desperately circling your swollen bud, and once he's drawn enough slick from your pussy, replaces his fingers with his tongue and almost buries his face into it. Makes you squirt and cum so hard on his face, and likes it even more when you make a mess. Looks up at you with needy, love-struck eyes, slick dripping down his chin as he asks you if you enjoyed it. If you don't respond, or are too busy catching your breath, he just dives back in and makes you cum even more on his face.

---

#moonink #hsr #honkai star rail #yandere hsr #yandere honkai star rail #hsr x gender neutral reader #yandere hsr x reader #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x y/n #yandere hsr x you #yandere honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x gender neutral reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail smut #yandere hsr smut #hsr smut #hsr aventurine x y/n #hsr aventurine x you #hsr aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine #yandere hsr aventurine #aventurine x y/n #aventurine x you #aventurine x reader #aventurine hsr #yandere aventurine #honkai star rail aventurine #honkai aventurine

[sleepy-sinner303]

This is because I am sick of people spitting on Yui’s face.

Yui is the BEST MC Diabolik Lovers could have had.

"Yui is annoying and never fights back"

She is tiny, stuck in a mansion (where the hell do you want her to run to), against vampires who are faster, stronger, and can teleport. Game over for her. It’s not like she never fought back, she kicked and slapped Laito, slapped Kou and Ruki, pushed Subaru almost making him fall down, stomps on Shu, talks back to Reiji… she isn’t doing « nothing ».

She also is smart enough to realize that if she fights back constantly, they will hurt her ten times more.

Then, let’s remember that Yui grew up without a mother figure and her dad was severe and distant. She said herself that they rarely spent time together and she had to eat most meals alone. Then, she also added she never had that many friends. Hence, we can imagine it has always been very complicated for her to bond with people and understand them as a whole, and finding herself in a mansion full of people with their attention centered on her can be overwhelming. Then, her decision is to drown in her shyness and keep her thoughts and feelings to herself. Hence, fighting for herself and keeping her ground is something she never learnt.

Also, Yui is a christian. She firmly believes that violence of any kind is inherently wrong and refuses to partake in any.

Then, I understood why many people were hating on Yui. I found out that many criticized her for liking the girly, pink, cute, fairy like aesthetic, bunnies, and for not being a goth thigh high assassin. That’s extremely pick me. Like, a female character has to be strong and tomboyish and not like anything "girl related" in order to be accepted as a female character? Yui survived (if we take the good endings) because she stayed true to herself, to her convictions, her beliefs, and didn’t change her personality to appear more likable or less "girly" in front of the boys in her household.

She survived because she didn’t act like Y/N in the DL fanfictions on Wattpad because let’s be real, if Yui had acted out, fought or talked back, she wouldn’t have survived one night.

#diabolik lovers rp #diabolik lovers reactions #diabolik lovers #diaboys #yui komori #yui komori headcanon #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #subaru sakamaki #ruki mukami #kou mukami #yuma mukami #azusa mukami #carla tsukinami #shin tsukinami

[asmosmainhoe]

KAYA LISTEN TO ME-

Idk if you will feel this as much as me BUT

First you have to listen to "Get in the water" from Epic the musical. (If You didn't already xD)

Second:

How will the obey me boys react to seeing the MC in the position singing this/threatening the person that for example did something terrible to a person dear to them or even killed a loved one? Would they let them do it? Would they stop them? How would they feel about it?

For the past day I can't keep thinking about anything else and now I need your help because you always get the point that I want aaaaaagskyhskdh help

MC kills someone

MC has their magical abilities here and is manipulating the ocean

I really recommend to listen to Get in the Water by Epic the Musical, but you don't have to to understand this. It's mainly for the vibes

Gender: neutral

Warnings: threats, death, angst, MC is murderous, slight spoilers about what happens after you free Belphie from the attic in Mammon's and Belphie's parts

Lucifer

He knows what you're feeling right now, but he doesn't want you to do something you might regret later on

"Are you absolutely sure?"

As a response you only shoot him a glare full of rage and sorrow. That is answer enough

"Fine then. I won't stand in your way."

The person responsible for your grief has brought this upon themselves and Lucifer refuses to intervene

He will have your back the same way his brothers had his back during the Celestial war

Maybe he should. Maybe he should keep you from taking a life, but would he react ant different if they had taken you from him? It wouldn't be fair

So he stands still at a nearby cliff, silently watching the tides rise and listening to your angry roars

The other person falls to their knees, begging for mercy which only fuels you

Lucifer can't do much except be there for you once you finish the deed and he intends to stay by your side for as long as it takes

Mammon

He's very well aware of the fact that nothing in the three realms is going to talk you out of it, but he doesn't want to see you go down this path of destruction

"MC, you're better than this!"

"What if that person had killed me? Huh, Mammon? What would you do in my position?"

He knows what he'd do. After all he once held your dead body in his arms. The image still haunts him everytime he closes his eyes

Mammon is all for making people who take things dear to him pay, but you're his sweet MC. It pains him to see you go from the kindest person he's ever met to...this

He wishes he could take all the suffering from you and go through this hell himself

The last thing he wants is lose you so he quickly pulls himself together and decides to stand by you when you do it

"You really don't have to, Mammon."

"I do. I won't let ya go through this alone."

Because wherever you go he will follow you even if you're leading him to the deepest pits of hell

Leviathan

Like Mammon he's hesitant to let you do this at first

It's just that you've never been a killer in his eyes. You're his innocent human who occasionally kicks ass when the ass deserves it, but this is entirely different

"I want to do it by the ocean."

"W-what will you do there?"

"...drown them."

Yes. Drowning. One of the most painful deaths one can experience

Levi knows it, because he feels every single life that is being taken by the tides fading. They're his tides after all

Only then he realizes how serious you are about this and how nothing will stop you from doing it

"If you do it then I want to be with you. In the water."

You stare at him silently for a few seconds until you nod

He desperately wants to be there in case you drown yourself in your own grief

Satan

No one understands the rage that you felt the day this person took the thing most dear to you like Satan does

That day he felt it through the realms. It woke him up from his sleep and made him nearly tare down the entire house of lamentation

Your wrath still pulls on him to this day. It's making him go insane and he has no idea how long he's going to be able to keep calm. If this goes on any longer he might destroy the entirety of the devildom

That's also why he doesn't disagree with you when you tell him about your murderous plans. Maybe you both will have some kind of relief

Nothing could prepare him for the day

Not only does the sea rage under your hand. Satan does as well

It's as if something knocked out all the air in his lungs and he falls to his knees, desperately trying to control his shaking body

"Get in the water!"

He can hear your screams inside his head and he is so close to kill that person with his own two hands, but he wouldn't take that from you. He couldn't

"Get in the water."

Asmodeus

People might think that Asmo doesn't understand love. That he only understand desire and attraction on a physical level

But truth be told, no one loves the way he loves

So when you tell him what you plan on doing his expression turns completely blank and he takes your hands

You can see your own determination in his eyes

"Do you really want this?"

He whispers the words, but they're still hanging loudly in the silent room

"I do."

"Very well, love. I'll go with you."

"You don't have to, Asmo. It's my business."

"Oh, my silly MC. How do you intend to raise the entire ocean without channeling a demon's magic?"

You usually channel the brothers magic on accident, because you don't feel comfortable using their powers for your own gain

Asmo's offer is different. He has a point and looks just as sure about this as you are

If you wouldn't have decided to kill the person who hurt you the most then he would have done it himself

Beelzebub

Ever since grief took over you Beel has been eating less. Seeing you in so much pain makes him feel sick to his stomach. All he does all day is worry about you so there isn't really the time to eat something either

He's of Levi's and Mammon's opinions when it comes to this. Beel doesn't want you to walk the dark path of revenge and self destruction

Belphie is living proof that the hatred doesn't end and only takes over everything that makes you...well you

Seeing his brother in such despair was bad enough, but he can't handle seeing you like this as well

But he gets it. He felt the exact same when he lost Lilith. There were less murderous intentions though

"MC, please don't. You saw what it did to Belphie-"

"And none of you stopped him."

Ouch. Even though your words hurt, Beel won't hold them against you. He knows it's the anger in you speaking and not you

Nothing will change your mind so the only thing he can do is support you and make sure you don't kill yourself in the process

Belphegor

He knows. He knows it too well and is just waiting for you to come up to him. To come up with a plan similar to his during the time he was locked up in the attic

Belphie is the last person to stop you. It simply wouldn't be right if he did, considering how he lashed out on you back then

"Use my power, MC."

"Are you sure?"

Of course you know that you don't have to ask him. If anyone would help you with this then it was him

"I owe you. For forgiving me."

You don't think twice about taking him up on his offer and the two of you immediately get to work

The sound of crashing waves is deafening, but Belphie can hear your screams loud and clear even though there is quite a distance between you and him

The murderous look on your face, the rage you wield the tides with and the lack of life in your eyes remind Belphie of himself

And the day he killed you

---

Masterlist

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me angst #obey me headcanons #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me luci #obey me lucifer #obey me luci x reader #obey me mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan x reader #obey me levi x reader #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me satan x reader #obey me asmodeus x reader #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo x reader #obey me beelzebub x reader #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel x reader #obey me belphie x reader #obey me belphegor x reader #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me brothers

[astariontopofme]

𝐀 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐫𝐲 𝐎𝐧 🤍 (Astarion x F!MC)

Summary: Astarion is on a personal journey of self improvement to support his relationship. A little fluffy / hurt/comfort drabble.

Word Count: 1.8k

—————

By any sense of the word, Astarion was not known to be a nurturing man.

He wasn’t quite as in touch with other people's feelings in the way that Wyll or Halsin could be. If anything, he was rather cold in the sense of comforting another. Comfort was something he was deprived of in his two hundred years as a slave to Cazador, so what he’d never received he felt could not give out.

Which left him in a tricky predicament tonight.

Unlike most nights, she did not wish to indulge him in the details of her brutal adventure as soon as she returned. His strong little love had arrived shivering, distant and doused in dozens of conflicting scents of cold blood. All he could do was gawp at her for a moment, unsure of whether or not he should do something. It wasn’t uncommon for members of their party to return in such a state of gore and emitting a strong stench of death, but to return looking so mentally sore and empty was something he was yet to deal with.

Entirely unsure as to why, he wanted nothing more than to be the comfort she so clearly needed after such a day. He wanted to see her smile, it was the only thing that brightened up his night at camp. Smiling was obviously not in her repertoire of emotions that evening. 

As much as he wanted to give in to this new desire to nurture her, he didn’t dare get close until she had washed away the temptation staining her skin. No matter what, he had to resist the urge to aid in the cleaning of such an abundance of thickly spread blood. Visually, she was in a bad way, and he wouldn’t be able to help her while resisting the temptation to help himself to the scarlet feast she was drowning in.

All he could do was sit outside his tent, watching as Halsin helped to wash away the liquid badge of accomplished combat whilst healing her own open wounds. He studied the gentle touch of the well-built Druid, his large and rough hands so carefully patching her up as he tried to coax her out of her hypnotic-like state. Although the kind words from Halsin didn’t seem to be soothing her, Astarion made a note of the words of encouragement and sickly sweet pet names the healer used in an effort to make her feel safe.

Once she was patched up and in a much cleaner set of comfortable clothing, Halsin had offered her a shoulder to lean on and ear to listen to her troubles, but she quietly declined. Before she made her way to the lake, she thanked him for his help as she stood from her makeshift seat, not stopping when he suggested that she return to him if needed.

Astarion suddenly felt uneasy about her leaving such comfort to go and sit alone. Sure, she was his partner, but even he couldn’t deny that Halsin could give her emotional support and likely the warmest hug of her life to at least give her the slightest sense of security. 

It often made Astarion wonder what it was she actually saw in him. There was no doubt that the two of them were pretty nifty in battle, and she knew as well as he did that they had each other's backs. They were fearlessly protective of each other, each willing to do anything to shield the other from harm. 

But was that all their relationship could be defined as?

He wanted more for her, and admittedly for himself as well, but he was the only thing in the way of their progression. She was ready, willing and able to begin that chapter in their relationship, but he couldn’t let it be one sided. The cuddly and intimate side of things was still a learning curve for him as he progressively taught himself what he was and was not comfortable with and where his boundaries lie. He’d never had the luxury of boundaries before now, so her encouragement of him slowly discovering his own was greatly appreciated.

For that very reason, he had no qualms with her seeking comfort from other members of their party. If anything, it helped him learn the importance of patience and understanding and taught him how to express his own feelings. Although it wasn’t something he had yet expressed to the others, he was grateful for their unconditional support of her where he couldn’t yet give it.

Many nights he sat in his tent, building himself up to take that first step towards being the partner he wanted to be to her, only for his courage to come crumbling down as he thought more and more about whether or not he truly was ready for it. So as he watched her sitting by the lake, her arms wrapped around her own waist and shoulders slightly shaking from her torment, he felt something new.

Almost like a feeling of connection, he was suddenly completely drawn to her. He was standing from his uncomfortable perch on the bumpy terrain below him before he could even process any thought for what he was doing. She needed him, and this was both the first time he had recognised it and the first time he was acting on it. He moved toward her quickly, actually sensing her level of distress before he even knew what was truly eating away at her.

Unlike any other night at camp, he wanted to hear every detail of her troubles; tears and all. He wanted her to confide in him the way he had in her so many times before. He wanted her to lean on him for support because he wanted her to feel better.

Most importantly, he wanted to be her main source of comfort.

So as he approached his sniffling partner and silently sat himself behind her, he felt the first almighty crack in his hefty barrier. Fighting off the sudden quickening of his breath took mere milliseconds, a record by all accounts. That defensive stance of panic that repeatedly presented itself at even the slightest thought of being part of someone else’s emotional support system was overstaying its welcome, and he was ready to rid himself of it.

His hands gently pried her arms away from the tight hold they had on her waist, her grip so strong that it seemed she was trying to hold herself together before she fell apart in front of him. He locked his own arms in their place around her middle, pulling her back into his chest with a reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered suddenly, his mouth taking on a mind of its own.

Never before had he said such a sweet sentence with zero malice or ill intent. Every little doubt in his mind slithered away as her tense form shook pathetically in his hold. She was holding something in, a traumatic detail from her adventures that she may not want to relive.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The more he rubbed little circles into her waist with the tips of his fingers, the more she sank deeper into him. Her raised shoulders began to relax as each muscle softened within her, the unsettling tension slowly leaving her. He could feel himself doing something right, something that made him feel worthy of her love and time. Not even sex could make him feel as good as he did in this moment.

Astarion waited patiently for a response as she seemed to be clawing through her thoughts for an answer. His cold lips pressed a gentle kiss into her hair, the faint smell of blood still presenting itself upon her person. The smell did not deter him from his focus on her state as she began to break down into pitiful sobs, each heartbreaking tremor shaking them both as he completely enveloped her into him.

“Shhh,” he whispered softly. “Shh shh shh…it’s okay.”

She shook her head quickly, inhaling a shaken breath in an attempt to calm herself enough to speak. “I-I couldn’t…s-save-”

She needn’t speak any further, unable to anyway as she buried her face in her hands to muffle her sobs. She couldn’t save somebody, something that had been a reoccurring torment for her whenever she faced what she deemed as the highest form of failure. If Astarion was being wholeheartedly honest, he didn’t entirely understand her strong feelings for helpless people that had zero relation to her. 

She couldn’t save everyone.

He didn’t want to lose her in her personal mission to be everyone’s saviour, but he tactically held his tongue about his opinions. Conflicting opinions was, as Gale would put it, a normal part of a relationship, but Astarion knew he could be rather cut throat in his approach to such topics. He didn’t want her to think him heartless, because he really was trying to at least see things from her point of view first. And even if he couldn’t see why she was so attached to the helpless and needy, he wanted to convey that in a way that wouldn’t damage their relationship.

He still had a lot to learn, but truth be told, he was rather enjoying this personal journey to becoming his own person. A shocking turn of events to say the least. Something about this particular adventure made him feel like he was doing something right for a change. He was finally finding himself. Not the slave that Cazador created, but a man with his own morals and feelings.

His lips pressed many more little kisses wherever he could plant them, shushing her softly to alleviate the harsh sobs wracking her body. The back of her head eventually found its way into the crook of his neck, her soft hairs tickling at his puncture scars. He swayed them both slowly, resting his cheek upon her head to embrace her as much as he could.

She wasn’t in the right mind to tell him the story of her tragic day, so as much as he currently didn’t want to blindly promise her that she’d be presented with this side of him tomorrow, he wanted her to know that she no longer needed to seek out comfort from anyone but him. He wanted to hear about her upset, whether that was tomorrow or a week from now. All he knew was that tonight was not the night. 

Tonight, she just needed a shoulder to cry on.

_____

A/N: Hope you enjoyed my first little fic/drabble for BG3! FYI, I do accept requests! If you haven’t followed me from my HL blog, then please know that although I’m fully confident in my English, it is not my first language 🤍

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