#the strange reddish man

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Which one of these shapes is bouba and which one is kiki?

The one on the left is more "bouba" and the one on the right is more "kiki"

Thanks!

#the strange reddish man #azziethot

[yuujispinkhair]

Death's Bride

Death visits your village to reap the souls of the dying, and you end up making a deal with him. If he spares your sister's life, you will join him in his dark kingdom and become the woman by his side.

Halloween Masterlist 2023

Pairing: Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: Dark Romance, fluff, smut Word Count: 14k Warnings: 18+, smut, dark content, mentions of death, gore + blood. Reader has to take her own life so she can join Sukuna in the afterlife. Sukuna is described as a fallen angel who became the God of Death. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

You know this is no mortal man who is walking towards you with his white cloak billowing behind him as he strides through your village, carrying himself like a king, while you lie on the threshold of your small house, breathing weakly, clutching the bag with herbs to your chest. You know this is no man. You know that this is Death coming to your village to collect what's rightfully his: The souls of the dying.

It started two weeks ago. A strange sickness took root in your village and spread like wildfire. By now, almost everyone has been infected. For some, the sickness is easier to bear, and they are on the way to recovery by now. But others are at the end of their strength.

You are the only one out of your little family who is able to get up while your mother and younger sisters are still bedridden, trapped in fever dreams and violent shivers. You went out this morning to get more herbs, taking hours for the task because you were so shaky on your feet, weakened by almost two weeks of fever, your chest hurting from one coughing fit after the other. But you forced yourself to keep moving. You had to. Your family needed you. You had to prepare more tea to fight their fever.

You dragged yourself through the streets back to your small house, feeling dizzy and nauseous but driven by desperation. But you only came as far as the door before your legs finally gave out, and you broke down from exhaustion and ended up where you are now: Lying weakly on the threshold in the open doorway, staring in horror at the scene in front of you.

A tall, broad figure striding with large, strong steps through your village, dressed all in white with a long flowing cloak with a hood that covers the head of the man wearing it.

It sparks a memory inside you. Old tales whispered to you on long, cold winter nights when you huddled together with your little sisters to keep warm, and your grandmother, who was still alive then, told you those gruesome tales about him. The one who could walk freely between the realms of life and death. The Reaper of Souls. The Fallen. The merciless, cold-hearted God who ruled over the afterlife and held judgment over the souls of the dead.

Hysterical laughter bubbles out of your chest. You cannot look away as the huge man leans down over a crumbled body on the ground. The cobbler, who was always so nice as to accept homemade pie in exchange for a new pair of soles. He was one of the first who was infected. And now he broke down in front of his shop.

The white-cloaked figure extends a large hand and brushes over the head of the lifeless man on the ground. His touch has a frightening finality to it. As if you can see the life leaving the cobbler's body.

The figure in white straightens up again, and the wide hood of his cloak slips off and reveals reddish pink hair and a face more beautiful and otherwordly than anything you have ever seen.

You draw in a sharp breath as you stare at him. Now that you get a clear look, it is obvious that your mind wasn't playing tricks on you. This man really isn't human. You are looking at a creature beyond mortal limitations. You are looking at a God.

He turns his head at that moment, and a pair of glowing red eyes trap you in their intense gaze. Your eyes widen, and your breath comes out in short, panicky huffs. You know you wouldn't be able to move even if you tried as if his gaze alone holds enough power to shackle you to the ground.

He is here. The Fallen. The Grim Reaper. The God of Death.

And he starts walking in your direction with slow, sure steps. There is no hurry in his movements. He has all the time in the world because, after all, he is the end of all time for the ones he claims or a neverending cycle of the same suffering over and over again for the poor souls he decides to punish.

Behind him, bright red splotches appear, and you realize that those are flowers, blood-red spider lilies that grow out of the dirt, building a small path to mark where Death walked. It is a horrifyingly beautiful sight.

He carries himself like a King, walking through these dirty streets as if walking down a wide marble hallway in a castle. You suspect that even if you tried, you wouldn't be able to tear your gaze away from him.

His beautiful face is adorned with black lines. Intricate filigree patterns accentuate his angular features. The black symbols mark his otherwise flawless skin with a story of pain and sin. Your mind is suddenly flooded with the tales your grandmother told you on those winter nights long ago.

There once was a beautiful angel, the most powerful of them all. But he was too proud to abide by the rules, and so he was punished. His beautiful white wings got torn out of his flesh, and his skin was etched with the marks of the crimes he committed. He was cast out and cursed to become The Fallen. The one who claimed the throne of the afterlife, of the world beyond mortality. He took the reins, and from then on, his true name was forgotten, and everyone only called him by his new name, which was Death.

And now he is walking towards you. Strangely, you don't feel fear anymore, only fascination as you watch him approach.

He stops next to you, looking down at you with an unreadable expression. This close, you can see his face even more clearly, and your mouth opens in awe. He is devastatingly beautiful.

And so big. He is towering over you, tall and broad. From where you are lying on the floor, he looks like a mountain that is about to crush you.

"Are you here to collect souls?"

Your voice sounds weak and hoarse from coughing so much.

His glowing red eyes watch you intently for a long moment, and you think that he almost looks surprised for whatever reason. But then the moment is gone, and he nods. A slight smirk lifts one corner of his lips,

"Yes, but not yours, little one. It's not your time yet. Your body will heal again."

His voice is low and calm. He sounds soothing. Not at all how you imagined Death to sound. You were always scared of this mysterious figure you heard all those grim tales about. A terrifying, violent creature with blood-red eyes and monster-like fangs, a devil who brings pain and suffering.

But right now, you only feel calm. You feel strangely at peace with him here. His power emanates from him, so powerful that you can feel it on your skin and smell it in your nose. But it doesn't feel evil or threatening.

Instead, it feels comforting, like a warm bed with freshly washed sheets waiting for you to sink into and wrap yourself in its sweet comfort. Like the relief you feel after finally lying down after a hard day of physical labor, like the feeling of sinking into a hot bath that eases the tension in your limbs.

But that momentary feeling of peacefulness slips away again a second later when Death takes a large step past you. His feet stomp heavily on the wooden threshold next to your head, and with it, terror fills your senses.

"No!"

Your voice is a hoarse scream as you lunge forward despite your weakened state, your hand darting out to wrap around his ankle and cling desperately to it.

"Please don't go in there! Please don't!"

Your family is in there. Your younger sisters and your mother.

Your lips tremble, just like your hand, but you refuse to let go of the black leather boot that's slippery with mud. You cling to it, sobbing as you gaze up at Death through the hot tears clouding your vision.

He looks down at you, an elegant eyebrow lifted in a curious expression. He stares at your tiny hand wrapped around his ankle. You cannot tell if he is angry or amused about your pathetic attempt to stop him.

"Let go, little one. I told you, your time hasn't come yet. But I have to collect a soul from in there."

You are drowning in dread. And the words pour out of your lips, desperate and panicky,

"Please don't do it! Please take me instead! I am begging you, my Lord! Please spare them!"

Narrowed red eyes meet yours. He laughs softly and lifts his leg, effortlessly shaking your hand off. His low voice sounds amused as if you made a nice little joke.

"Look at you trying to negotiate with Death. You are a brave one. Foolish but brave."

Now you see how truly terrifying he is. Death knows no mercy. He doesn't just collect the souls of the old people who lived a long, fulfilled life. He claims anyone whose time has run out in the cruel hourglass that is life. He will go in there and take your mother or one of your sisters with him even though they still deserve so much more from life.

He looks at you with a cold, intimidating look in his red eyes. His mouth is set in a thin line, and his shoulders are pulled back, making him look even more massive. You cannot negotiate with Death. He is the God of the afterlife. There are forces at hand which every mortal is completely helpless against. Humans are all just little toy figures on the game board of the Gods. Or not even that. Just tiny, irrelevant grains of dust.

And yet, you cannot stop yourself from pleading with him.

"I don't care what you do to me! Take me with you! I am ready to die any death you see fit! Just please, please let my family live! My sisters are still so young. They deserve to see more of life! And they need my mother, she has to live too! But I am dispensable. Take me instead! Please! I will do anything you say!"

He watches you with amused eyes and a thoughtful expression.

"You're such an interesting one. You aren't dying, though. So I cannot take you to the other realm. But we could make a deal. I have to collect one soul from this house. I don't care whose it is. There is still time. I could still heal your sister. But only in exchange for another soul. You die, she lives. How does that sound to you? Are you still brave enough now?"

His red eyes watch you with an amused glint in them. Cruel excitement seems to fill him. You can't help but think that you are something like a strangely colored bug that he watches for his entertainment before he crushes it under the soles of his boots.

But you don't care. You refuse to avert your gaze, staring stubbornly into his otherwordly red eyes, your hands balled into fists as you nod.

"I agree. Please, my Lord. Please save her."

He chuckles softly, a low, amused sound, and his face lights up in a grin. He looks disgustingly delighted.

"I will, little one. But only if you seal a binding deal with me first. I spare your sister's life, and in exchange, you take your own life and let me take you with me. The moment you breathed your last breath, you belong to me, and I can decide what to do with your soul. I am in a good mood today, so I will be open about my plans for you. It would be a waste to send you back here as a curse that haunts your family. Instead, I want to keep you by my side. I could use someone who looks after my temple and warms my bed. I could use a bride. What do you say, little one?"

You can see that he is amused, that he expects you to decline after hearing his plan for you. But you don't. For a moment, you stare at him, horrified by what his words imply. But you shake yourself out of it, driven by a desperate conviction. You cannot let your little sister die today. You could never live with the guilt of knowing you had a chance to save her and let it pass. You will do what it takes. Even if it means following Death into his dark kingdom and giving your body to him. You swallow hard, lips trembling as you answer him,

"Alright. I will be your bride and look after your temple. I agree to your terms. Now, please hurry up and save her!"

More laughter falls from his lips. His red eyes glitter like two precious rubies. He sounds pleased when he says,

"You're a fearless one. I like that."

His red gaze never leaves yours as he reaches inside his cloak and pulls out a wicked-looking dagger.

"Here. Do it. End your life, and let me collect your soul. The moment your soul belongs to me, your sister will wake up from her fever dream and recover from the sickness that has befallen her."

You gulp hard, fear squeezing your heart tightly, as you stare at his large hand wrapped around the golden hilt of the dagger, his red eyes watching you challengingly, watching if you will really fulfill your part of the contract.

You are scared suddenly, your breath coming out in short huffs. You feel lightheaded, adrenaline pumping through your veins, making stars dance before your eyes.

Maybe this is how things are. No matter how prepared you are for Death, when he comes to really collect you, you feel fear after all. Fear of the finality of it all. There is no way back after you take this step.

But you don't hesitate. You press your lips together tightly and take the offered dagger out of Death's hand.

The moment you hold the heavy weapon in your grasp, Death's large hand wraps around your wrist, and he pulls you to your feet, making you stand before him.

He is so much taller than you, even now when you are standing. You have to tilt your head back to look into his eyes. He looks even more intimidating up close. Powerful, strong, unrelenting. A cunning business partner who is waiting for you to fulfill your side of the contract. A contract you pay for with your life.

You half expect him to taunt you, and it makes you clench your jaw and stare up at him defiantly. But to your surprise, there is no mockery in his low voice when he speaks up again.

"Have no fear. You won't feel any pain. I will make sure of that."

His words bring tears to your eyes, making them spill over with the hot salty liquid as your chest fills with comfort, finding solace in the fact that Death apparently knows mercy after all.

Your hand is trembling violently, but you bring the sharp blade of the dagger to your neck, gazing up at Death as you do so, looking deeply into his glowing red eyes as you slice your own throat.

The sharp metallic taste of blood fills your every sense. You taste it, you smell it, you feel it hot and wet running down your slit throat and your chest, you hear it gurgling in your mouth when you try to speak.

But Death leans down to take the bloodied dagger from your hand. His other hand cups your cheek. It's so large against your face. But his touch is gentle as if he is holding a thin, fragile porcelain cup,

"It's fine, little one. You did well. Brave until the end."

His voice is soothing. Low and calm, almost seductive. Like a lover luring you into his comforting embrace. You lean into his touch, smiling weakly when you feel his thumb caress your cheek soothingly.

Black spots dance before your eyes, and you feel so tired. You see his lips move, but you can't hear anymore. Your legs and hands feel numb. You fall forward, but strong arms catch you.

You feel yourself get swooped up into Death's strong arms and pressed safely against his broad chest. You feel him move as your head lols back weakly. The ghost of a smile tugs at your blood-stained lips. He carries you like a groom carrying his bride to the bedroom on their wedding night.

How fitting. After all, you are truly his bride now.

If you weren't so weak, you would laugh at the commentary your delirious mind provides.

By now, your vision has vanished completely. The only thing you are still aware of are his arms around you. It's peaceful and warm. As painless as he promised. You feel one last weak throb of your heart. And then it's only sweet, comforting darkness and the feeling of those strong arms carrying you safely across the border from mortal life into Death's dark kingdom.

You wake up feeling rested and comfortable. Your eyes are still closed, and you sigh contentedly, snuggling deeper into the soft and warm sensation of a silky pillow and blanket.

In the back of your mind, some strange warning tugs, but you are too wrapped in the luxurious feeling of being well-rested after a good night's sleep to pay it much attention. You can't remember the last time you felt rested like this. It was hard since your father died. You are the oldest daughter and had to help your mother raise your younger sisters. You were the one who had to do most physical labor, working on one of the farms day in and day out. Your body constantly ached somewhere.

But not today.

You sigh happily, stretching your limbs and marveling at how soft the bedsheets and the blanket feel against your naked skin and how large the bed is.

That's when the little voice in your head becomes too loud to ignore. You blink in confusion and open your eyes.

You are in a large room with marble walls decorated opulently with red and gold murals. Red candles are flickering in large lanterns. A fire is crackling in a beautifully decorated hearth. The bed you are lying in is huge and definitely not made for only one person.

You gasp and sit up, looking around hastily.

There are two red pillows and two red blankets, and everything is made of the finest silk. As if you are in a King's bed chambers.

And, suddenly, you remember everything.

The sickness haunting your village. Your dying sister. Death walking towards you. The deal you made with him. The dagger in your hands. The blood. Strong arms carrying you. You remember him. Death himself. Your bridegroom.

Instinctively, you grab the blanket and wrap it tightly around your body, feeling exposed and vulnerable. Your heart is beating wildly, and it makes you feel nauseous. You still remember the feeling of your heartbeat becoming slower and slower before it finally faded away completely. You remember dying.

And yet you are here now, breathing, feeling the silk on your skin, feeling the thrumming of your heart. So very alive, even though you know you can't be.

And so very naked in a man's bed. Or not a man's bed. In a God's bed. In Death's bed.

At that moment, the large door opposite the bed opens, and you wince in fear. You clutch the blanket tightly against your body, staring at the door with wide eyes.

He stands in the doorway, his pink hair almost brushing against the doorframe. Tall and massive. He looks intimidating even without the white cloak he wore when reaping souls. Even the way he is dressed right now, as if he just woke up too, with only a pair of black pants on his muscular body. His feet and chest are bare.

There are more tattoos on his body, matching the ones on his face. Black lines decorate the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, as well as his strong arms.

He could almost be a human man. Almost. But those glowing red eyes tell you otherwise. Those are the eyes of a mythical creature. The eyes of a God.

And you feel like a small animal trapped in that gaze as you sit there on his large bed, naked except for the silk blanket wrapped protectively around yourself, unable to move as you watch him walk into the room.

He moves gracefully like a big cat, even though he is so tall and muscular. A slight smirk lifts his lips as he approaches the bed. His red eyes never leave your small figure huddled in his blanket.

"Ah, I see you are awake."

"What... what did you do to me?"

The words have left your mouth before you can stop yourself. Confusion and fear make you blurt out mindlessly. You are distraught by the memories of slitting your own throat, by the feeling of dying. And you are terrified by the knowledge that you are naked in Death's bed. Terrified by what he might have done to you in your sleep. On the other hand, maybe it would be better for you not to have been awake for what he did.

He falters for a moment, his beautiful face shadowed by a frown as his red gaze bores searchingly into yours.

"We made a deal. Can you not remember? Your life in exchange for your sisters? You agreed to follow me here."

You nod firmly,

"Yes, yes, of course I remember."

"When what..." he starts, but then comprehension seems to dawn on his features, and he laughs, sounding mocking, his eyes glittering amusedly when he continues,

"Don't worry. I didn't touch you while you were unconscious. Where would be the fun in that?"

Oh.

You feel some of the worst tension leave your body, a long breath you had been holding finally finding its way out of your lips.

"But why am I... naked?"

"You were dirty. Do you think I would let you sleep in my bed like that, full of dirt and blood? My servant undressed you and cleaned you and put you in my bed."

So you were right. This is his bed.

"Why am I in your bed?"

He huffs at your question as if you asked something utterly stupid.

"Because you are my bride. Of course, you sleep in my bed. We have a deal. So if I say you sleep in my bed, you will sleep here. Is that clear?"

You lick your lips nervously, feeling fear tingle under your skin at his imperious tone and the intense gaze out of those unnervingly red eyes.

You quickly avert your gaze, bowing your head obediently,

"Yes, my Lord."

"Sukuna."

You blink and lift your head again to look at him questioningly.

"What?"

"That was my name before I became Death. Sukuna. I want you to call me that from now on."

He sighs, and the stern expression on his face becomes softer when he adds,

"It would be uncalled for my bride to address me with my title. I am Sukuna for you. Your betrothed."

He says his own name with a slight tilt in his voice as if he isn't used to saying it. Maybe he isn't. It must have been a very long time since he told someone his name. Maybe eons.

You gulp hard.

How strange it is to be here with him. To talk to him as if he is a regular mortal when he is so much more than that. He has never even been human. He is a being so ancient and so powerful, so crucial to every mortal's existence, that your head spins just from trying to imagine it.

But you force yourself to be brave and look at him.

He is right. You agreed to his terms. And he did his part. He spared your sister. Now, it's your turn to fulfill the rest of your side of the contract.

You are still trembling and hugging the blanket tightly to your naked form, but you look bravely into his eyes and give him a polite nod,

"Of course, Sukuna. Thank you for saving my sister. I will be a good bride for you."

A day ago, you were a mere mortal. One of millions who were caught in the hands of fate. Working day in and out to stay alive, always hoping, begging, praying to have more time and to see your loved ones live a long life too, while all of you were exposed to the threat of Death cutting your lifespan with his sword at any second.

Now, you are beyond that. You died, and you came back again. Brought back by Death himself, the Master over every soul who left the mortal world behind.

From this day on, you reside in the afterlife. From this day onwards, you will be Death's Bride and live your new life, or rather your afterlife, by Sukuna's side.

He tells you that you are free to move around in the temple. When you ask if you are also allowed to go outside, he lifts an elegant eyebrow and seems strangely amused, as if you asked something stupid.

"You can also go outside. But I don't think you will find anything interesting there, little one."

You don't know what he means, but accept it and take the fine clothes his loyal servant Uraume brings you. Everything is made out of the finest silk. A fabric so luxurious and soft that it feels like a caress when Uraume helps you get dressed. You gulp when the servant puts jewelry on your neck and wrists. Heavy gold and pretty jewels, red rubies that glitter in the same color as your groom's eyes.

Sukuna's temple is enormous and luxuriously furnished. Not at all like the tiny, shabby house you grew up in. But you cannot claim that this temple is better than your old home because, contrary to the vivacious atmosphere of your former home, Sukuna's house is eerily silent. A silence that feels haunting.

You don't dare walk too fast so as not to make any loud noise. You catch yourself whispering because your normal voice sounds too loud in these empty halls. It's a ghostly place. The silence feels too heavy, almost tangible. Something that can easily drive a person into madness.

You try to focus on the little noises that are there. The little signs of existence, like the sound of water flowing into the large bath. Or the sound of the doors sliding open and closed.

It takes a while to explore the whole place. To see all the large rooms with their rich tapestries and carpets. Gold and rubies shine and glitter everywhere. But a lot of the rooms look too clean, too perfect. There are no signs of someone actually living in them.

It is lonely here.

Maybe this is why Sukuna was willing to make a contract with you that would bind you to him and make you join him here. Maybe he was looking for a companion, or just a pet, to amuse him in this everlasting silence.

It is not like you are a servant here, as Sukuna made it sound at first. You assumed you would tend to him, clean his temple and clothes, wash and cook for him. But that isn't the case. His servant, Uraume, takes care of those tasks. They mostly remain invisible, like a ghost, taking care of everything for their Master, seemingly manifesting out of the shadows to bring you fresh clothes and oils and wine.

You ask them timidly what you are supposed to do, and they shake their head to inform you that you are just here for Master Sukuna's enjoyment.

A statement that makes a shudder run through you.

You have been here for three days, and so far, he hasn't laid a hand on you, maybe because he was away most of the time, apparently reaping souls on a battlefield.

But he demands your presence at dinner with him, where he sits across from you at a large table, and those gleaming red eyes never leave you. He is polite, asking questions about your day and how you like the jewelry.

And he joins you in the large bed every night, naked, with his tall and broad body full of solid muscles and black lines unashamedly on display for your terrified gaze.

You try to tell yourself it is the shock that makes you unable to look away from him when he undresses next to the bed and then slips in. But a little voice in the back of your mind whispers treacherously to you that maybe it is because Sukuna has an undeniably beautiful body.

"You're getting quite intimate with Death, my dear, aren't you?"

His amused low voice makes you hastily look away and hide your face in the silky pillow, heart racing nervously. His mocking laugh makes goosebumps creep over your skin. But he doesn't seem mad. He is just amused once again.

"Don't be shy, little one. Look all you want. You'll have all the time in the world to explore this body."

You bite your lip at his words, your body tensing up under the blanket when a large hand lands on the nape of your neck and slowly slides down your spine. Your heart is fluttering, and you don't dare breathe. But he pulls his hand away after a moment.

You slip to the edge of the bed, as far away from him as possible, your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, knees pulled up, curling into yourself, instinctively trying to protect yourself as if it would help anything against this God in your bed.

The more time you spend in Sukuna's Kingdom, the more you realize that this is really death. It is the absence of life, the absence of sound, and plant- and animal life. You begin to understand that the once graceful angel Sukuna really got punished. This here is his suffering, his punishment. The loneliness, the absence of life that so suffocatingly surrounds him at all times.

But he was cunning enough to cheat and take his chance when you offered it so beautifully to him. Now, it is the two of you here in this dead place.

It's truly a lonely place. Maybe that's the definition of hell. To be trapped in a beautiful temple that holds all the riches the world could offer but lacks life, lacks the connection to other beings.

You try to befriend Uraume, but they seem to vanish when they aren't busy with some task. Your attempts at chatting with them get declined with a polite but stern bow and a "Please forgive me, my Lady, but I must ask you to refrain from distracting me from serving Master Sukuna."

You meet no other being aside from Uraume and Sukuna.

The worst thing is the eerie silence. It almost drives you crazy. It makes you stomp your feet loudly just so you can reassure yourself you are still able to hear. It makes you slowly push open the large gate that leads outside in a desperate attempt to find anything living.

The rich opulence inside Sukuna's home is a stark contrast to what greets you when you finally step outside the temple.

A seemingly endless wasteland stretches before your eyes. There is no sky above you. It feels like you are in an enormous cave with a ceiling so high your vision cannot reach it. Eternal darkness lives in this place. Cold with icy winds and a rotten stench of iron and decay.

It's gruesome. Hopeless.

You press a hand over your nose and mouth and stand there wide-eyed, staring at the endless darkness in the distance. But as frightening as it is, the complete darkness in the distance is a blessing compared to what you see in the strange, dim, reddish light surrounding Sukuna's temple.

A vast crimson-red sea surrounds the island upon which the temple is built. The color and the stench make you ask yourself a question to which you already know the answer. Yes, this sea must be a sea of blood.

You shudder as you take a tentative step closer to the crimson-red liquid at your feet. You gulp hard as you lift your head to look straight ahead. There is a narrow path leading through the sea of blood, a path that is made of stones and other shapes. Shapes that look too similar to bones to be a coincidence.

But at the end of that path is something even more horrible. A massive pile of bones. It is so high that it seems like a small hill. And on its top is a large throne made out of skulls.

This must be the place from the tales you heard whispered.

Death's throne.

This must be where Sukuna holds court and decides on the fate of the newly deceased. Some will move on to eternal peace. Some will suffer forever in the fires of the afterlife. Some will be forced to return to the mortal world. But not as humans but as empty shells. As curses that were laid upon them by others.

A heavy hand lands on your shoulder, and you scream.

You whirl around wide-eyed, only to stare into the smirking face of your soon-to-be husband.

Sukuna's red eyes wander slowly from your face to his throne in the midst of the sea of blood and back again to your face, looking deeply into your eyes as he says in his low, velvety voice,

"I see, you found my throne. You can sit next to me up there if you wish while I pass judgment on the newly reaped souls."

You shake your head frantically.

"No! No, there will be no need for that!"

He raises an elegant eyebrow and huffs softly.

"Such a pity."

But he leaves it at that. His white coak billows behind him majestically as he strides back into the temple, and his soft laugh carries over to your ears, amused, maybe a bit mocking.

You follow him hastily, not wanting to be out here any second longer.

You plan to never set foot outside again after that. It's easier to pretend when you are inside the temple. It's easier to pretend that you are not in the middle of literal hell.

You aren't sure how many days or weeks have passed since you arrived in Sukuna's Kingdom. Time is nonexistent here. There are no seasons. There is no night and day. You have dinner at appointed times, and you go to bed where you still slide to the far end of the bed. But you have no idea if the days have the same hours as in the mortal world.

It might be a week, maybe since you were brought here when Uraume informs you while dressing you in the morning,

"Tonight, the wedding ceremony will be held. I will bathe you and dress you in your wedding dress later on."

And you feel like you are falling. Falling deeper and deeper into darkness so absolute it feels like velvet brushing over your skin as it swallows you wholly.

You knew this was coming. But it still shakes you to your deepest core. There is something so final about becoming Death's bride. You know you will be here forever. You will be Sukuna's forever. Bound to him by a promise, by a contract, by a union of bodies, maybe by blood too.

The wedding dress is the most beautiful dress you have ever seen. White silk, so delicate it looks like a mere spider's web. Your skin shimmers through it. The dress clings to your curves, showing your body almost as if you are naked. It looks like the dress of a Queen. Or a Goddess.

"Master Sukuna wanted the finest wedding dress ever made for his bride. You should be grateful and wear it with pride."

The disapproval in Uraume's voice is evident as they catch you crossing your arms timidly in front of your breasts, trying to hide your body.

When you walk towards your groom, you hold your head up high, clutching the wedding bouquet of spider lilies tightly in your hands, your gaze glued to Sukuna's glowing red eyes, trying your best to be brave.

You play along and do what Uraume instructed, extending a hand so Sukuna can take it and let him lead you to an altar. You are brave. You don't flinch when Sukuna takes the same dagger that you took your life with and touches it to your wrist, cutting your skin lightly.

No blood is welling up from the wound. Another mystery. What are you now? You feel a heart beating in your chest, but you don't bleed. Is anything you feel even real? Or is the beating of your heart just a phantom sensation you remember from being alive and refuse to let go of?

You feel lightheaded as you stare at the thin wound on your wrist, but only for a moment because then Uraume hands Sukuna a tray with a small pot with a black liquid in it.

You know what is to come. Your husband is marking you as his, filling your wound with the black liquid, giving you the same markings he bears.

He doesn't kiss you but stands in front of you, so close that you feel his warmth. One of his large hands cups your cheek, his thumb brushing slowly over your lower lip before it pushes into your mouth and feeds you some of the black liquid he marked you with.

"Take my sin into you and become mine for all eternity. Be my companion in this eternal darkness, like I will be yours."

There is something in his voice and about his choice of words that makes tears prick at your eyes, but you will them away and repeat his vow.

He takes you that night for the first time, consummating your marriage by pushing you onto the bed, one of his large hands pressing your face down into the silken pillow, as Sukuna settles over you.

You clutch the pillow tightly between your fingers when you feel his heavy weight pressing your body down. You tell yourself to be brave and obedient, but you cannot stop a muffled cry from falling from your lips when his huge cock splits you open and claims you for the first time.

He takes you with deep, thorough thrusts. The initial pain vanishes after the first few thrusts, and after that, your union isn't exactly painful anymore, but it feels frightening how full you feel, how stretched out. You have never lain with a man before, but even if you had, you know no mortal man would have been able to prepare you for your wedding night with a God like Sukuna.

He is so big, so strong, taking you unrelentingly while you tremble in his arms, knowing you could never run from him even if you chose to back out of your contract with him.

His large hands are placed on each side of your head, his lips trail over your neck, sharp teeth grazing over your skin, while he snaps his hips and makes you feel like you are getting crushed anytime his heavy weight presses you down onto the bed.

There is no love in this union of your bodies, but it's not like you were as naive as to ever imagine your wedding night to be filled with love or tenderness.

You always expected to marry out of convenience. A girl like you couldn't afford the luxury of love when picking a husband. You had a family to look after. Maybe it would have been one of the farmer's sons if you were lucky. You would have given birth to his children in exchange for a relatively comfortable life for yourself and your mother and sisters in one of the big farmhouses.

You never were so foolish as to believe you would have a loving marriage. So this wedding night with Sukuna isn't that much different from what you were expecting in your future anyway.

And so you grit your teeth and take his cock obediently, letting him use your body to satisfy his desire until you hear his low groans in your ear when he finds his release and fills you with his warm seed.

You are a good bride.

You know you aren't expected to work, but you find your way into the large kitchen anyway, standing behind Uraume as they prepare a meal.

Sukuna has been gone the whole day, and there is only so much staring at the ceiling while lying in your bed that you can do before you inevitably go insane. So you went in search of the only other living being down here, hoping they wouldn't send you away.

"Do you need help with the cooking? Can I maybe chop some ingredients or something?"

Sukuna's servant sends you a cold gaze over their shoulder, looking at you as if you offended them by the suggestion alone.

"I have spent eons preparing Master Sukuna's meals, my Lady. I don't need any help. And you aren't a servant here. You should do other things."

"But... but that's not what I meant. I am sorry if I offended you. The food you cook is always perfect. I just...I am looking for something to do and for some company maybe. Can I please assist you? There is nothing else to do here."

Uraume sighs, but they nod slightly, and you feel relief wash over you. They wave you over, hand you a knife, and point to a cutting board where a small pile of vegetables is waiting to get sliced into little pieces. You smile at Uraume and murmur a soft thanks, going to work immediately.

"Uraume? Can I ask you something? Does Sukuna even need to eat?"

It's something you have been curious about since the first time you sat across from him at the large dining table. You don't feel any hunger since you woke up here in the afterlife. Why would someone who is already dead need food? But you eat because you feel like it is required of you in your role as Sukuna's bride. It made you wonder, though. Why would a powerful being like Sukuna need to eat? Or does he just do it because he likes the sensation of eating?

Uraume watches you warily for a long moment, probably contemplating whether they should chat with you about Sukuna. In the end, they sigh softly and answer you,

"Master Sukuna doesn't need any food. But he wants to eat."

Uraume hesitates for a moment, their hand with the knife hovering over the meat they are currently chopping, but then they add softly,

"In the heavenly realms, they have big feasts all the time with as much food and wine as one can imagine. Even after The Fall, Master Sukuna didn't want to give up on that. He was supposed to have a life void of all those joys, but he evades that form of punishment by consuming the food I prepare for him with ingredients I collect from the mortal world. Of course, it's not quite the same taste as the foods prepared in the celestial realm, but for the ingredients I can obtain, it is the best food he can get."

It makes sense.

You can't help but chuckle softly as you realize that eating a four-course meal every night is Sukuna's little ongoing rebellion against the ones who turned him into The Fallen.

It somehow makes you see your husband in a different light. It makes him seem a little more human. A little more relatable. You have been there, too, several times, feeling the desire to do something out of spite when someone tries to forbid you something.

That evening, you watch him closely while he eats the meal Uraume and you prepared for him. For the first time, you take in how much he seems to treasure the food served to him. He takes his time eating it, letting it melt slowly on his tongue, taking in all the different flavors, and his eyes close in pleasure when he savors the taste.

It almost makes you feel sorry for him and for what he lost when he got cast out of heaven.

You never wanted to set foot outside the temple again after seeing the endless wasteland and the sea of blood. But your curiosity gets the better of you when Sukuna informs you he will be holding court today, and you watch him slip into his white cloak and walk through the huge doors of the temple towards the path that leads to his throne.

You follow him after a few minutes, unable to resist the lure his words have on you.

A horrifying sight greets you. The sea of blood is filled with a large crowd of shadowy figures. The bloody waters are shallow, only reaching up to the knees of those standing in it. But none of them look down. They all have their heads tilted back to look up at the imposing figure who thrones over them. Atop the gruesome pile of bones, sitting on his throne of skulls, is Death.

He looks bored. His long legs are crossed casually one over the other. His chin is resting on the back of one hand while his eyes trail slowly over the souls standing before him, awaiting his judgment.

Eyes that glow blood-red, vibrant like two lights in the dark, standing out frighteningly in the dim light of the afterlife.

He is beautiful and terrifying.

You can see the immeasurable extent of his power and can even feel it as if it is a physical thing that surrounds you, making the air thick and filling your senses with dread. A dread that comes with the absence of all hope.

Sukuna is the King of the Afterlife. The God of Death. There is no escape from him. Every living soul will one day end up here and stand before your husband.

A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. You instinctively hug yourself even as your gaze stays glued to the scene playing out in front of you.

As expected, Sukuna is unrelenting in his judgment. There is no mercy to be expected when he makes his decisions. He isn't swayed by the cruelty of the fates of the ones standing before him, no matter how tragic they are. His decisions are rational and brutal at times. And yet, after you stood there for several hours and watched him, you have to admit that his judgment is fair. Of course, he won't revive anyone. But he assigns an appropriate ending to their lives. He punishes the ones who did evil. He transforms the ones who got cursed. He leads the ones who are innocent to their eternal sleep.

When the last soul has vanished in a cloud of red smoke, Sukuna gets up from his throne and slowly walks back toward the temple. His movements are graceful, making you watch him with a feeling akin to admiration.

His red eyes land on you, and for a split second, a surprised expression crosses his beautiful features.

When he reaches you, he stops next to you with a content expression on his face and a small smirk lifting the corners of his lips,

"So my bride watched after all, hm? I am pleased."

You nod at him, and to your surprise, you see his smirk turn into a smile.

One of his large hands reaches out and lands on your head. Long fingers brush over your hair, petting you for a brief moment before he pulls away again and continues walking toward the temple.

You feel strangely light-hearted when you fall into step behind your husband.

When he takes you that night, he is gentler in the way he handles you. He doesn't press you face down into the pillow like he usually does, but instead rolls the two of you to the side, entering you from behind while you lay in his strong arms and his large hands trail down your body, cupping your breasts and rubbing circles over your belly.

His lips graze your earlobes while his low groans and murmurs fill the room,

"You're a good little bride."

You don't know whether it's his words or the way he snaps his hips that makes you clench around his thick cock and exhale a surprised moan, as for the first time, you feel thick syrupy pleasure explode inside you and spread through your whole body in warm crashing waves.

Your husband is often away. In the mortal world, reaping souls. You know that anywhere he goes, he brings devastation and fear. But when he comes home to you, he brings a certain comfort with him, as strange as it sounds.

You are almost glad when Sukuna's tall, broad figure walks into the wide double doors. It is very lonely here and scary at times when you become too aware of where you are, and the silence becomes too suffocating. Sukuna's presence brings comfort. His low, calm voice helps you drift away from that brink of madness you sometimes feel yourself drifting towards when you are alone with your thoughts for too long.

Your husband is Death, but to you, he is the only sign of life you meet down here, and that is enough to make you drift towards him when he is at home.

He is terrifying because of his role in this cycle of life and death. He is terrifying because he symbolizes the end. His position is terrifying. But the man Sukuna doesn't seem so bad.

He treats you well. He is polite. And as long as he looks at you and talks to you, you feel real. You still exist. You aren't gone. You aren't a ghost or a curse. You are very real and corporal.

You catch yourself following Sukuna around, watching him while he polishes his sword and the various daggers he carries. Watching him when he sits comfortably on the bed with books spread around him, reading and making notes.

His red eyes find yours and narrow in a frown.

"You've been staring at me for half an hour. Do you have nothing to entertain yourself with? What are you usually doing while I am away?"

The question catches you off guard. Is he mad at you? Is he accusing you of being lazy?

You look nervously at him,

"There isn't a lot to do here... I mostly just... wait? I sleep a lot, I take baths, and I help Uraume in the kitchen. Is there anything you want me to do?"

He blinks at you and shrugs.

"Why don't you find a past time? I showed you my library. Why don't you spend your days there and read?"

You feel shame wash over you. You get treated like a noble woman here by the King's side. But you have always been just a poor peasant from a dirty little village where the only thing that mattered was physical labor.

"I never learned how to read."

Sukuna's red eyes widen, and he stares at you for a long moment before he finally says firmly,

"Follow me."

He gets up and walks toward the door without bothering to check if you follow him. A man who is used to everyone obeying his commands.

You quickly scramble to your feet, bunch up your dress, and do as he says. You have to walk fast to keep up with Sukuna's large steps, probably looking pathetic as you hurry after him. But he doesn't comment on it. There is an amused smirk on his beautiful face, though, when he waits for you at the door that leads to his personal library.

It's a vast room with large shelves filled with so many books that you suspect he must own every book that has ever been written.

"Sit."

Sukuna's low voice is demanding, but you can hear the tint of amusement in it as he points one long finger to one of the large armchairs.

You nod and sit down, watching Death stride through his collection of books and pull several books from the various shelves, which he then places on the small table next to your armchair.

"I will teach you how to read. These are all books that contain very little text. We will start with those."

Your head snaps up, and you stare at him, caught off guard and astonished by his offer. Why does he care whether you have something to do in your time here or not? Why does he take some of his precious time to teach his bride, who he claimed is only here to warm his bed, how to read?

At the same time, you feel a shudder run through your body, feeling flustered suddenly as you realize that this means you will spend a lot of time with him.

Holed up in Death's personal library, where he sits so close to you that his large hand brushes against yours anytime he turns a page. So close that his breath caresses the skin of your neck anytime he tells you something in his low, velvety voice. You find it hard to focus on his words, too distracted by the warmth emanating from his tall, muscular body.

He takes you almost every night, but somehow, those hours spent with him in the library where he teaches you how to read feel much more intimate than the nights spent under his heavy body.

Sometimes, Sukuna returns home as immaculately looking as he left. His white cloak clean, his beautiful face flawless. But at other times, he comes home covered in dirt and blood from walking over a battlefield or through a slaughtered city.

On those days, you help him shrug out of his stained clothes and then lead him to the large bath, where you join him in the hot water to wash the blood and dirt off his muscles.

It is something he demanded from you.

"Why should I wash myself when I have a perfect little bride to do that. Isn't it your duty to serve me? Now take off your clothes and join me in the bath."

At first, it took all your bravery to slip out of your clothes in front of his wolfish gaze and smug grin. But now, it is no cause for shame or discomfort anymore. You are used to being naked in front of Sukuna. Used to getting claimed fully by him.

But it's not just that, you realize as you slip into the hot water and walk towards your husband.

By now, you feel a certain pride in this. Sukuna is Death. He is a God. A being that seems untouchable with all the power he holds. But you are allowed to touch him. You are allowed to invade his personal space.

There is something so intimate about straddling his lap here in the hot water, naked skin on skin, as you cup his beautiful face with one hand and use a washcloth to wipe the blood off his skin and wash his hair. A certain bond blossoms between the two of you when his muscular arms encircle you, and his red eyes watch you intently, glittering like two rubies in the flickering candlelight while he lets you take care of him. There is a certain softness in the way he thanks you for cleaning him despite his former claims that this was your duty to him.

It's during one of those shared baths when Sukuna kisses you for the first time.

He has claimed you almost every night, had you under him or in front of him, or made you be on top and sit on his large, heavy cock while he lifted you up and down and rolled his hips to thrust deeply into you. He made you bury your nose in his pink pubic hair while he used your mouth for his pleasure, made you choke on his copious amounts of seed, or sneered when he pulled out in time to shoot it all over your face and naked breasts.

He claimed you in every way a man can claim a woman. But he never kissed you.

In all the months you have been here by his side, Sukuna never kissed you until this afternoon here in the large bath where you sit on his lap and wash the blood off his face.

Your face is barely inches from his as you scrub at the dried blood on his right cheek when you feel one of his large hands trail up your back slowly. A caress that feels too gentle for a being like him. Your eyes flicker to his, and you see him watching you intently with an unreadable expression in those glowing red eyes.

Before you can go back to scrubbing at the blood on his cheeks, you feel his large hand cup the back of your head and pull you closer.

Your eyes widen when Sukuna's lips touch yours. They are surprisingly soft. His kiss is slow at first, lips barely moving against yours. But it grows more passionate quickly. His large hand tightens its hold on your hair, his mouth opens against yours, and his velvety tongue licks over your lips before pushing between them.

You shudder, not able to tell if it is from fear or pleasure. But your eyes fall shut, and your hand drops the washcloth. Your arms link behind Sukuna's broad neck. You open your mouth willingly for him, letting him in further, licking against his tongue experimentally, surprised at the heat that it makes throb in your core.

A soft growl is heard, and you can't tell if it's coming from you or Sukuna. But you know that his arms tighten around you and that you press your naked breasts against his muscular chest as you push your tongue eagerly against his, caressing it with a hunger that you didn't know you possessed.

You feel an all too familiar hardness growing beneath you, but instead of dreading it, you press against it eagerly, allowing yourself to fall into those hot, red feelings of desire and need. Allowing yourself to dive into those stormy waves of carnal pleasure, embracing the comfort and freedom it offers you.

This time you shudder in pleasure when Sukuna's thick cock pushes into you. This time, you gasp needily when his large hands knead your flesh, and his nails dig into your skin as he lifts you up and down on his throbbing hardness. This time, you meet the snaps of his hips eagerly, taking him deeper, making the act faster and more passionate as you ride him shamelessly until you are both grunting and gasping loudly, and the warm water splashes out of the large tub anytime your bodies connect in those passionate and frenzied moves. Both of you cry out loudly when your pleasure reaches its peak at the same time.

When Sukuna is at home, you can almost believe you are living a normal life in the mortal world. Of course, a life very different from your former one. A life as a princess, maybe, or a queen, who is living in a castle, wrapped in luxuries, with nothing to do except improve your newly acquired reading skills and help your loyal servant prepare decadent meals that you eat with your husband before he leads you to your opulent bed chamber where you both read and share the occasional laugh about an amusing passage in a book until your low moans fill the room while your lips and bodies meet in a passionate union.

You almost succeed in pretending that you are still alive.

Almost.

But then Sukuna leaves the temple to fulfill his duty as Death, and you become too aware again that the windows are only enchanted to show day and night and a blurry landscape instead of the eternal night and the nothingness surrounding Sukuna's temple.

And that's when you feel the unsettling presence of the complete silence choking you again. That's when you feel the absolute absence of life closing in on you again as if the temple walls are moving closer and closer to you.

You can only escape for so long into the fantasy world of the books you are able to read now. And Uraume isn't very helpful with how they seem to avoid you except when dressing you or cooking with you.

You catch yourself humming under your breath to comfort yourself. The humming turns into soft singing. At first, you feel a bit weird about how loud your voice sounds, but soon, you become braver and sing at an average volume, unafraid of how your voice fills the marble rooms of the temple with its clear sound. You are surprised by how many songs you remember. Songs from your childhood, folk songs from your village, popular songs from the big cities you heard performed at the harvest festival every ear.

You get so comfortable with it that you don't think twice about singing, even when Sukuna is at home. You only realize what you are doing when you hear him chuckle softly behind you, and you gasp and stop singing and turn around to see him standing in the open doorway, leaning against the door frame with his muscular arms crossed in front of his broad chest, his white cloak painted with the scarlet pattern of a soul claimed.

He smirks at you,

"Don't let me interrupt you. I am just unfamiliar with such sounds here in my domain. But it sounds lovely. Keep singing for me, my little bird."

You feel intimidated all of a sudden now that his red eyes are watching you, but you swallow down the nervousness and continue singing the song you were in the middle of before Sukuna entered the room. A song as old as your village, kept alive from generation to generation, speaking of the human longing for company, a home, a fire to keep you warm, and a love to comfort you.

Sukuna's gaze is glued to you, a strange emotion flickering over his god-like features. Something akin to longing, you think. Something akin to sadness even. But before you can wonder too much about it, he turns away from you and leaves the room without any further word.

When you wake up the next morning, you can't move. Your eyes fly open in panic, only to realize you are lying draped over your husband's broad, muscular body, your naked skin pressing against his, one thigh thrown over his hip, your head resting on his buff chest. And what made you unable to move are his strong arms that are wrapped tightly around you, holding you in their firm embrace while he is still fast asleep.

Your breathing calms again, and a small smile lifts your lips as you relax against Sukuna's warm body, letting his strong embrace pull you back to sleep.

"Sukuna, look!"

You are walking next to him on the path leading from his throne back to his temple when you spot it. A bright green patch of color in the otherwise dim and monotone landscape of greys and browns.

You hurriedly walk over to it, only to realize that, to your utter astonishment, it seems to be a cherry tree sprout growing bravely out of the seemingly dead ground of this Kingdom of Death.

You lift your head to look at Sukuna, only to find him staring at the tiny sprout bewilderedly.

Before you can ask him what's wrong, he stomps towards the small flower, yanks it out of the earth, and burns it with a swish of his hand, making you take a hurried step back and gasp,

"Why... why did you do this?"

His eyes glow viciously in the dim light when he turns to look at you.

"A flower like that doesn't belong here! This is the land of the dead!"

He stomps away, his white cloak billowing behind him as you can only stare after him with a confused frown.

Why does a little delicate flower bother him so much?

It is later during dinner when you dare ask him again. Sukuna's gaze is stern, his expression filled with a cold rage that makes you gulp fearfully.

"You don't know why I am upset? Then let me tell you, my little bride. Nothing grows here! No life exists here! That is how it always was! But now you are here with your singing and your liveliness, and suddenly, a symbol of renewal and hope grows in the middle of my kingdom! I disturbed the balance! By bringing you here, I disturbed it! You brought life into the realm of Death!"

"B... but that doesn't make sense. I died. I took my own life to follow you here!"

"And yet, you are still so ... so full of life. It's not right!"

You gulp hard, instinctively trying to hide the hurt you feel at his words. You bow to him, muttering,

"Forgive me, my Lord."

"I told you not to call me that."

You don't answer him but just get up from the table and hastily walk deeper inside the temple, fleeing from his words that cut deeper than the dagger that you used to slit your own throat with.

Tears are gathering in your eyes. You cannot bring yourself to care about whether you are allowed to leave the table before Sukuna or not. If he wants, he can punish you later, and you will endure whatever punishment he sees fit.

You wipe angrily at the tears that spill over as you stumble into the library and close the heavy door behind you. Why does it hurt so much? You came here because you agreed to his cruel conditions. You sacrificed yourself to save your sister. It was supposed to be a marriage of convenience. Come here, get wed to Death, and warm his bed. It was something you were supposed to hate. So why does it feel like you are being ripped apart upon feeling like your husband rejects your presence?

You huddle into one of the oversized armchairs, hiding your face behind a random book you grab from the table in a fruitless attempt to distract yourself.

That is where Sukuna finds you later that night.

You lift your head from the open book in your lap when you hear the door opening and see Sukuna's tall, broad figure looming in the open doorway. His red eyes glow devilishly in the dim light of the room.

"Don't run from me, brat."

A sad laugh escapes your lips, and you close the book you couldn't focus on anyway, lifting your head to glare at him.

"I thought you didn't want to have me around. So shouldn't you be glad if I run?"

"I never said that."

"But you think something is wrong with me and that it was a mistake to bring me here."

You hate the way your voice breaks at the end, turning into a teary sob as fresh tears spill over and slowly run down your cheeks. You don't understand yourself anymore. You don't understand why this bothers you so much, why you are so hurt by his words.

You should be glad if he doesn't want to spend time in your presence! You should be glad if he decides to let you go and fall into the nothingness of eternal sleep! You should even be glad if he decides to send you back to the mortal world as a curse that lives in your family's house!

Anything should be better than being forced to live here in his temple and be bound to him! But here you are with an aching heart and tears running down your cheeks because apparently, somehow, during the last months, you grew attached to Sukuna, and somehow, knowing he thinks you don't belong with him makes your heart break in ways you didn't know before.

Sukuna stares at you, a baffled expression on his beautiful face. The silence stretches on, deafening, suffocating, making you ball your hands helplessly into fists.

But then your husband moves. Sukuna marches towards you with large, sure steps, and before you know what is happening, he grabs you and pulls you up from your armchair and against his tall, broad body.

"That's not what I meant. I apologize for my careless words. There is nothing wrong with you. I am just... surprised by what you do to me."

His words make you lift your head to look up at him, blinking against the tears as his large hand cups your cheek.

"I don't understand, Sukuna. What do I do to you?"

His red eyes flicker with an array of emotions. Regret, pain, longing. He looks so strangely human right now. As if he isn't an almighty God who reigns over this Kingdom of Death and has the final say in the fate of every soul who comes here.

His voice is soft like a caress, low and velvety, but filled with a sadness that surprises you.

"Don't you see? You made a flower of life grow in the depths of the afterlife. When you sing and laugh and hug me with that warm, soft body, there is so much life everywhere around me. I am Death. I am used to being alone. I am used to numbness, to silence, to nothingness. It is part of my punishment. But now you are here, and you fill everything with colors and sounds and warmth. You are a source of light in this eternal darkness. And it... it unsettled me when I saw the extent of your power."

You blink at him in utter astonishment.

"But Sukuna... you are Death. How could you be unsettled by anything? What effect can someone like me even have on you? What power could I ever hold?"

He huffs softly, a sound that reverberates in his broad chest.

"I have existed as Death for eons. And it was always an existence in solitude. It's the irony of being me. Death belongs to life. It is inevitable. And yet, everyone who lives chooses to ignore it. They push it away, they demonize it, they make a taboo of it. I was always just a fearful whisper. I am something the mortals try to pretend doesn't exist until their last moments, when all hope is lost. Their delusion is so strong that I can walk through the middle of a crowded city filled with mortals, and no one will notice me. That's how much they banished me from their existence. I am invisible to them. They can see me only in the moments right before they die."

He stops momentarily as if to let his words sink in while his gleaming red eyes gaze deeply into yours. Something about what he said makes no sense. You frown.

"But... But I.."

"But you saw me. Yes, I know. You weren't supposed to be able to see me. But you did. Do you begin to see what I mean? You talked to me, and I was greatly amused by it but, at the same time, utterly fascinated. Do you think I go around randomly making deals with people? So many beg me in their last moments, but I always ignore their pleas. But you were different. You weren't standing on the threshold between life and death, but you still saw me. That's why I offered a deal to you. I was curious. But I wasn't prepared for what you would do to me. I wasn't prepared for what it would do with me when you talk to me and eat with me and bathe with me or when you kiss me and lay with me and find pleasure in it. I wasn't prepared for what it means to be seen by someone."

Sukuna's thumb brushes gently over your cheek, wiping your tears away while his red eyes gaze deeply into yours. He is a God, yet he is so human now. His words make your chest feel tight, and more tears well up in your eyes. But this time they aren't for you. Those tears are for him. 

You realize that you are pressing your body tightly against him, wrapping your arms around him, and holding him. Hugging Death and looking at him with a gaze full of compassion.

"And I will keep seeing you, Sukuna. You aren't just a shadow. You are very real, and you aren't unspeakable or evil."

This makes him raise an eyebrow, his red gaze burning into yours.

"You don't think Death is evil? If you could, wouldn't you bring an end to it? Isn't that the ultimate goal mortals want to achieve? To defeat Death?"

You gulp hard but shake your head, refusing to avert your gaze but instead looking deeply into Sukuna's gleaming red eyes.

"No. You have a right to exist. Death belongs to this world just like life does. Why would anyone value their life if they knew it was everlasting? Many things are so much more special because of their fleeting nature. Your position brings a certain beauty to the world, a certain urgency, that wouldn't be there otherwise. Death can be cruel and unfair. But it belongs to this world. There could be no real value of life without you."

Surprise flickers over his face before it gives way to a pleased expression.

"I knew from the start that you are brave. And maybe fate sent you here to conquer Death after all. You definitely have conquered me."

A smile lifts his lips, so beautiful and flawless that it's not hard to believe that he once was an angel. Red eyes as beautiful as jewels glitter in the soft glow of the candlelight, making your heart flutter.

You look up at Sukuna, reaching out to touch his cheek too. He is so much bigger than you. Tall and broad. Death is standing in front of you, powerful and merciless, and yet you feel no fear anymore. His red eyes are soft when they look at you. His large hand is gentle when it cups your cheek. His voice is full of tenderness when he asks,

"Will you sing for me again?"

You smile at him and nod gently.

He picks you up and carries you to the bedroom, his lips finding yours several times on the way while your small hands cup his beautiful face, and you kiss him back eagerly.

You sing for him again when you are in bed, and he lies beside you, his hand playing with your hair. You sing even while he undresses you, parting your robe and exposing your naked breasts to him. Your chest heaves, and your voice flutters, but you keep singing even while Sukuna cups one of your breasts with his large hand and squeezes it gently, his thumb brushing over your sensitive nipple.

You keep singing, only interrupted by short, breathy gasps when his hand travels down further and slips between your naked legs. He is so loving tonight. His touch is tender, his large hands surprisingly gentle. Long, strong fingers caress you in a way that makes your whole body fill with heat. He isn't taking from you tonight. He is giving to you.

And you fall apart under his tender touch, spreading your legs for him shamelessly, lifting your hips to press your naked cunt against his hand, letting him feel how wet you are for him and how much you long for his touch.

You only stop singing when you can't form coherent words anymore, and your song turns into needy sobs and loud moans. Your hips buck, and you whine when Sukuna's fingers spread your creamy wetness over your folds and over your pulsing nub that he caresses slowly.

He keeps touching you, keeps caressing that little bundle of nerves that sends shocks of desire through your body, almost overwhelming in its intensity. 

Loud gasps of Sukuna's name fall from your lips. The heat and pressure become so intense that you think you can't take it anymore. Your tiny hand's claw at his large one between your legs.

But Sukuna is unrelenting,

"No, let me. Let your husband take care of his beautiful bride."

A loud, raw scream falls from your lips as the pleasure crashes over you in hot, unrelenting waves, and your body arches up, thighs twitching as your swollen nub pulses hotly against Sukuna's large, firm fingers. He keeps rubbing it, slow but firm, and you feel hot wetness gush out of you and over his hand while you scream his name and twitch helplessly in his arms.

He is breathing heavily, his red eyes gleaming as he watches you intently. 

"So beautiful for me, my sweet bride."

He pulls his hand away, but only to push your thighs wide apart, exposing your naked, wet heat to his hungry gaze. And his face gets pressed against your soppy cunt, mouth licking up your wet mess. Your hands tangle in his pink hair, tugging on it, crying out as your head falls back on the pillow when your husband pushes his tongue into you and licks and kisses you.

You fall apart for Sukuna that night on his fingers and on his tongue. And when he finally takes you with his cock, it is slow and intense. He faces you this time, kneeling between your spread legs and capturing your lips in a kiss when he sinks down on you and claims you with his thick cock.

He is everything you see and feel, tall and big, a mountain of muscles, and a cock that fills you so completely. He takes you with slow, strong thrusts that make you clutch his muscular back and moan his name while you chase peak after peak of blinding pleasure until you are so exhausted that you fall asleep right there in Sukuna's strong arms while his low voice whispers to you,

"You sing the most beautiful songs for me, my little bird."

"Mortals always say they will love each other until death do them part. What do you think that means for us?"

Sukuna's lips are lifted in an amused grin as he asks you the question.

He is lying next to you, his beautiful naked body laid out for your admiring gaze on top of the dark red silk sheets. His chin is probed up lazily on one large hand as he watches you, letting his gleaming red gaze trail slowly over your equally naked body.

You smile at him, reaching out to run a hand down his muscular arm, tracing his biceps and the black bands around them with your fingertips before they wander to his broad chest. You let your small hand rest there, fingers sprawling over his firm muscles, right where his heart would beat if he were a living being.

"I would say this means nothing and no one can do us part. It means our love will last until the end of time, just like Death will."

Sukuna's large hand lands on top of yours, covering your hand completely under his. He sounds pleased when he murmurs in his low voice,

"My bride is not only brave but also smart."

You laugh softly at his words before you lift your head to look deeply into his eyes.

"Sukuna?"

"Yes, my love?"

"You told me I could sit on a throne next to yours if I like."

His red eyes glitter in the firelight as he cocks his head curiously, a small smug grin lifting the corners of his mouth.

"Yes, I did."

"Is that what you want?"

"It is your choice, but yes, I would like it if you sat next to me."

"Then I will do so."

There is respect in Sukuna's gaze when he gives you a nod to signal that he will set things in motion.

You know this is where you belong. By Sukuna's side.

One day, you will see your mother and your sisters standing in front of your husband's throne of skulls, but you don't fear for their souls. You will sit next to Sukuna when it happens and guide them to eternal peace, where they can finally rest free of all pain and worries.

You are Death's Bride.

You kiss him gently farewell before he leaves for the mortal world to reap the souls of the dying. You greet him with a smile when he returns, hugging him tightly and helping him out of his coat. You wash the blood off him, you kiss him, you talk to him. You fill his dark kingdom with light, just like he said.

And he lets you.

He even laughs softly when another little green sprout fights its way through the rotten soil next to the sea of blood.

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!!! I didn't think this story would get so long, but once I started working on it, I got dragged into Sukuna's world and didn't want to leave again. The power he has over me!!

I hope you enjoyed this story!! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!!

This is the last story for my Halloween Event 2023! I am so happy that I could write all the stories I wanted! Thank you so much to everyone who read a story (or maybe several) of this event!!

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna #sukuna smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #sukuna fluff #sukuna x y/n #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #tw dark content

[kairiscorner]

─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ A RESPONSIBLE OLDER BROTHER...

🍰 genre: fluff ~ !

✒️ word count: 1068

💭 summary: you never thought you'd cross paths with someone who once caught your eye in high school, much less as his younger brother's elementary school teacher.

🍥 author's note: ngl i feel like something like this alr exists out there, i just don't know if someone alr made something like this, so pls lemme know 😭😭😭 and i had no idea what exactly to call this au, but basically, choso and yuuji are half brothers and choso's completely human; they have a wide age gap, but choso's very close to yuuji and is an amazing older brother to him here (he's very involved in his life and supports him so much !!) AND I'M SORRY I MADE KENJAKU YUUJI'S MOM BY DEFAULT 😭😭😭 ik he's also technically choso's dad, but i had to fit the half siblings thing in somewhere TT

"excuse me," spoke a raspy voice from behind you. turning around, you see a tall man with dark, chin length hair and smoky eyeshadow looking at you; he sort of towering over you, coming off as slightly intimidating. "ah, yes?" you asked in a soft voice, forcing a smile. "um... i'm here to pick up yuuji itado—" "big brother!" the little boy's high pitched voice called out for him from within the classroom.

like a little tornado, yuuji slipped out of the classroom and embraced his older brother by the legs, yapping to him a mile a minute about how fun making the origami animals and finger painting were in class today. the man chuckled and pat his younger brother by the head, taking him into his arms and carrying him. "that's great, yuuji, but slow down..." he advised his younger brother, giving him a piggy back ride.

you couldn't help but smile at the brotherly affection yuuji showed for his older brother. "so you're the one yuuji keeps bragging about in class..." you say in a sweet voice, admiring how patient he is with yuuji. the man's eyes go a little wide, and across his face, a reddish blush appears on his cheeks. "well, um... i didn't realize my little brother spoke so highly of me..." "he does, all the time!" you explained, making the man blush a little more as the toddler yuuji played with his older brother's hair.

"say, sir, um, might i know your name? just in case, y'know, security might ask who picked yuuji up next time?" "um, kamo, choso kamo," he introduced himself in a low voice, with you raising your eyebrows at the familiar name. "k-kamo?" you repeated, as if the way the name rolled from your tongue felt strange. he nodded, already brewing up the explanation in his mind that he never failed to explain time and time again others asked how they had different surnames.

"y'see, yuuji's my half brother," he uttered as the toddler soon felt sleepy and was about to sleep on his brother's shoulders. "we have different fathers, but that doesn't mean he's a stranger to me," choso affirmed, letting yuuji rest on his shoulders. you nodded, feeling a little sympathetic about their family situation, but also feeling as though choso had been somebody you once knew back then, some time in your high school years. "i see... well, i'm glad to know you're both very close," you said with a smile, chuckling under your breath at how absolutely adorable yuuji looked when sleeping on his otherwise stoic looking older brother.

"but i have to ask..." you begin as you look over choso's face once more, searching for some familiarity you may have within his features. choso raised an eyebrow as your voice drifted off as you scoured through your memory where you may have heard the name 'choso kamo' before. you snapped your fingers and widened your eyes when you finally realized just who this man might be. "you were my classmate all throughout my first year in high school!" you exclaimed, grinning.

choso looked at you dumbfounded, he didn't realize you were his old classmate until you pointed it out. "you... were?" he asked you, unsure if the person he was remembering from his hazy memories of high school was the very person he was talking to right now, his younger brother's elementary school teacher. you nodded, smiling wider. "yeah! sorry, i just... i didn't realize it was you! you got taller, your hair's longer, and... i like your makeup," you muttered, giggling a little under your breath. it felt like just yesterday that you were sitting next to one of the most cold and aloof people you had ever laid eyes on in the small world you were in that was high school.

you could remember the goth aesthetic choso had, the chunky boots he'd sneak wearing and get in trouble for, the earphones that were always stuffed in his ears and the occasional lip rings he'd wear when no teacher or discipline officer was in the vicinity; he was oddly cool to you back then. maybe it was just your lack of adventure and rebelliousness in your teenage years, but choso always stood out to you as the kind of person you aspired to be; not goth or a rebel or anything like that, more like a person who lived out their freedom and individuality, throwing caution to the wind and living your life how you wanted to, that was the kind of person choso seemed to you, and you had always yearned to become that kind of person, even now, do you wish you were that free with your life and decisions.

choso's cheeks flushed with red once more, he nodded and murmured his thanks at your compliment. he cleared his throat and tried to look you in the eye, unsure if he should refer to you by the name you preferred to be called in high school, or keep the formalities and call you by the name yuuji called you with the honorifics and all. "i... i'm glad i met you again," he muttered, his face getting redder and redder by the minute.

you nodded and grinned wider. "same here. well, see you and yuuji around, choso; i'll be looking forward to seeing you more often now," you said as you headed back to the classroom to check on the other children, with choso nodding, gazing at you from under his eyelashes. "um, wait..." choso called out to you. "yes?" you asked him, turning around to face him. choso could feel his throat go dry as he struggled to find the words to express what he wanted to ask you right then and there. "c-could i... get your number? f-for emergency purposes, of course..." "...sure thing," you obliged, relieving choso, but simultaneously making his heart pound with anticipation as you wrote your number down and handed it to him.

"how responsible of you, really, i'm really glad yuuji has you as his older brother..." you exclaimed, with the corners of choso's lips curving into a soft, delicate smile. "makes me admire you even more, y'know," you added, making choso's entire face erupt into a blush, making your own face heat up as you smiled and giggled under your breath.

guess some things never change no matter how much time passes...

#choso #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x you #choso x y/n #choso kamo x reader #choso kamo x you #choso kamo x y/n #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #jjk fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Back to Life

human!alastor x human!gnreader

Part 1 of 5+

summary for part: you had just been for a walk in the woods, and now suddenly you’re standing over a historical looking guy with a chipper attitude and… a gun? thankfully he’s here to help you in your bloodied and confused state, but as things play out you can’t help but notice nothing is like it was before your fall, and all you have to trust is the odd grinning man

summary for series: One day when waltzing through the woods a peculiar looking buck led you deeper in, while following, you fell hitting your head and woke to a stranger standing over you. You don’t know where you are, how you got here, or who this guy is, but he’s all you’ve got and he’s utterly insane.

warnings for part: short first chap, lowercase intended; i’m feeling quirkyyy, multiple parts-i put other things aside because my brain is STUCK on human alastor sorry lads ;-;, blood, descriptions of injury, kinda strange stylized writing, i’ve got like a whole story thing planned compared to the other ones-this one’s got a whole plot line. no descriptions of reader- of any kind, no pronouns, i looked up a shit ton of 1920s outfits & speech just for a couple lines lmao, OOC alastor my reasoning behind that is he’s not in hell yet so he hasn’t had that kind of demonic development yet, he’s still a psycho tho and we love him for that, also mommas boy <3, he uses 1920s slang a lot lads, throughout the whole series

warnings for series: homicide, morally grey reader, eventual smut, cannibalism, reader will eat a guy, unknowingly, alastor be doing witchcraft magical madness but it’s never in depth explanations, alastor is a mommas boy and it will be hounded on, annoying 1920s slang, alastor is more accumulated to the era he’s in so he may be OOC 100 years in hell would change a guy, varying descriptions of injuries and blood in detail, takes place in 1927, alastor is 27 oop born in 1899 tho, nothing here is canon, just loosely follows, reader is in their 20s at least; no younger, alastors mom is nameless mostly, maybe later on she’ll have a name; she’s 48, alastor has daddy issues bc same, mimzy may be added later depending,

you remembered seeing a deer while wandering through the woods, you were taking pictures of the scenery when you saw this curious looking deer.

it stood tall with large antlers, a beautiful reddish brown coat, you’d never seen a deer so close. brining your camera up slow you went to snap a picture when your phone crashed, you weren’t even able to get the buck in frame before your phone fizzled out.

the deer started to walk away, but you so badly wanted these pictures. slowly you followed behind, cautious of the leaves and sticks below your feet. you followed it over a fallen tree, through bush and branch. finally you entered an area filled with more foliage, closer trees that blocked off sunlight, more bushes and fallen trees, wild flowers, moss and random mushrooms.

you watched as the buck disappeared behind thick bush, and that’s the last conscious moment you remembered. you woke at the bottom of the hill, when you opened your eyes you didn’t know a thing.

it was like you were a blank slate, everything was as it was; there was no confusion, you were simply in the woods with no worry or question as to why. you laid there, your head lulling from side to side observing the tree covered sky above, the sunlight that shot through the trees highlighting the particles floating through the air.

there wasn’t a sound at all; the animals feared something near. inhaling deeply, you willed your head up, wincing and groaning in pain. suddenly life as you knew it came back to you, you weren’t just a mindless being in the woods, you were you, and you were out here taking pictures and then, fell?

you still weren’t sure what had happened just that you followed a deer and then… fell asleep and woke here. your body ached badly, specifically your forehead, your back, neck and shoulders. it seemed the brunt of the fall was your head, lifting your hand you touched your forehead feeling a flap of skin that wasn’t there before.

looking down at your hand you weren’t surprised to see some blood, in fact the top you had worn had been covered in it. “hello dear, funny place to snooze if ya ask me.” a voice joked, startling you. however your body was too tired to startle, so despite your heart rate increasing, and the jump you felt in your bones, your body remained eerily still, your head slowly turning toward the sound.

standing above you was a man with a soft smile, he wore circluar glasses and the strangest outfit. he wore a coat chestnut brown- a lumberjack coat; strange looking pants that puffed out at the hips, with boots that the pants cinched into them. his hands were covered by gloves, and tiny brown coloured coiled curls popped out from his hunting cap, and on his shoulder a leather strap that allowed a large shotgun to sit on his back.

you were taken aback by his looks, his outfit looked vintage, historical too, and he was, well, gorgeous. “you’re bleeding quite a bit dear, how’s about we getcha up and outta here, hm?” lending his hand to you, the man gave you a charming smile with lidded eyes. you felt something was off about the man, a lingering feeling that something beyond your understanding was telling you to run, get away.

instead you whimpered, pathetically so, and placed your hand into his, letting him hoist you up. he wrapped your arm around him, while he looped his own arm under you, helping you walk. it was hard to do so, your ribs hurt with every breath you took, your head felt like it was floating above your shoulders, your cheeks watered making you swallow constantly, and though you were shivering your body felt ablaze on the inside, like hot coals were lit under your skin.

the man looked down at you, you could see from your peripheral vision he was inspecting you, but you were too pained to care. “how’d you find yourself at the bottom of the hill my dear, someone try to bump you off?” his voice was way too chipper for your current mood, and all you did was mutter a confused ‘huh’ at him, thankfully he laughed that off.

“listen, i’ll take you to my joint my mothers over so we can getcha all patched up, but you’ve gotta spill whatever happened to you if that’s quite alright.” despite the sturdiness in his voice, asserting what was going to happen with expectations, he tone was somewhat kind. dryly you mutter out ‘name?’, your voice raspy and unlike your own. the man chuckled before he responded in a smooth tone. “alastor dear, pleasure to meet you.”

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel oneshots #alastor hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor the radio demon #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel alastor #human alastor #human alastor x reader

[rabbitblackx]

Alright so can I have headcannons for Ghostface, Jason, Michael(Rz or 78) and Freddy when their s/o calls them a baby girl? Like one day their s/o just says “ Hey baby girl” Thank you so much

Yeah sure thing! And ur welcome xx :)

Slashers when Reader calls them ‘baby girl’

Includes: Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and Ghost Face (Danny Johnson)

Michael Myers

You were watching tv one day when you decided to grab a little snack. You pulled yourself off the couch and trudged over to the kitchen

Lo and behold, there stood Michael. You didn’t even hear him come in! He was getting good at that. Michael stood like a statue by the counter, where one of your snacks sat

“Oh, hey, baby girl.” You deadpanned

You gave him a small smile before snatching the snack and walking back to the living room

What

That was all? No kiss or anything? How dare you? Also, huh? Baby girl? No, he was a man

Michael’s head cocked to the side, before he slowly followed after you. You were a weirdo like him. That was why he spared liked you. He shouldn’t of been surprised that you called him such a thing

Michael didn’t think anymore of it. He simply sat down on the couch next to you, and watched you watch tv

Jason Voorhees

You walked out of your cabin to find Jason setting a trap by some bushes. There were some unwanted teens nearby that were causing a ruckus, so he was just doing what needed to be done. You approached the crouched man, squinting your eyes from the sun and shielding them with a hand

“Hey, baby girl.” You greeted casually

Jason stood from the set trap and whirled around to look at you. You could see his wide eyes from behind his mask

“Whatcha doing?” You asked, gazing about the woodsy scenery instead of him

He was very confused that you called him that. Sure, his mother had called him baby boy before, but never—girl. It was weird to him

Over the next few days, Jason would continuously try to act big and strong around you. He was almost worried that you saw him as a softie or something (which was definitely, one hundred percent, not the case)…🫣

Jason made sure you were watching when he chopped down that huge tree, and carried its thick logs with just one arm. See? Look how strong he was! He was no baby girl!

Though I don’t think he would mind if you called him baby boy instead…

Freddy Krueger

After drifting off to sleep, you found yourself in a reddish boiler room you knew all too well. You rounded a corner to be met with your burned boyfriend, none other than Freddy Krueger

You placed a hand on the wall while the other rested on your hip. You two were always messing about and playful with each other

“Hey there, baby girl.” You grinned, rising your eyebrows jokingly

Freddy wheezed out a chuckle that echoed throughout the boiler room. He strode over to you with a toothy smile on his own scarred face

“Hey there, sweetcheeks.” He flirted back

Sorta like Michael, Freddy didn’t think much of it in the end. It was just how you were with each other. You flirted, joked and were downright goofy

Freddy wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close while in his little dream world. He smirked before pressing his chapped lips onto yours

He didn’t mind at all being your baby girl

Ghost Face (Danny Johnson)

You were on trial with your fellow survivors like normal. Luckily for you, the killer was none other than your spooky boyfriend. You saw him earlier, but lost track after he got caught up in a chase with your poor friend. You were just repairing a generator by yourself when you saw a white blur peeking behind a tree in your peripheral. You quickly realised it to be the Ghost Face’s forever screaming mask

“Hey, baby girl!” You called out with a playful smile

The Ghost Face couldn’t help but chuckle behind said mask. You were from a newer time than Danny here. You had gone on about other random, strange things from the future before. He had no idea, but thought maybe this pet name was an inside joke from the 2020s or something

“Hey, handsome.” Danny played along

You let out a loud laugh before rising to your feet. The Ghost Face slinked away from the tree to stalk over to you. You giggled together as you wrapped your arms around each other.

Though he still didn’t really understand it, it soon became a reoccurring pet name you called him. Danny didn’t mind. It was different. You were different. Fun too. He couldn’t ever think of a scenario where he would hurt you. He liked you too much

You literally made Danny into a baby girl🫠

#dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #slasher x reader #slashers #slashers x reader #ghost face x reader #danny johnson #ghost face #michael myers x reader #michael myers 1978 #michael myers #halloween #jason voorhees x reader #jason x reader #jason voorhees #freddy krueger x reader #freddy krueger #dbd nightmare #dbd ghostface #danny johnson x reader #friday the 13th #nightmare on elm street #rab.reads

[partycatty]

i want to give old man mk11 johnny little kisses all over his face with lipstick on and leave little kissy marks that he doesn’t know are there so when he goes out everyone sees them but he doesn’t.

i love ya 💙💙

hehehe

older!johnny cage > peppered

johnny didn't know your makeup wasn't smudge proof when he went off to work.

[ masterlist ]

• "i'm headin' out!" johnny calls from the foyer, grabbing a bag and keys from the hook beside the door. "don't miss me too much, alright?!"

• "wait!!" you sprint down the steps, the biggest grin on your face. you were wearing your usual face of makeup, bright red lipstick included. johnny returns your grin, beaming down at you when you charge yourself at him and wrap your arms around his neck. "i love you."

• johnny chuckles, eyes flicking between yours. "i love you more." his voice is gentle, honest. it was always nice to see his domestic side when he wasn't kicking ass or talking about how amazing he was.

• you kiss him, smushing your face against his in a strange competition to see how hard you could kiss him before he'd complain. your noses squish together and you can hear johnny giggle into your lips. when you pull away, your smile only grows when you notice there is a firm print of your lipstick on his mouth.

• "what's that look for?" he asks, noticing your staring. you decide to take advantage of his lack of knowledge, leaning in for another kiss on the side of his mouth. he smirks, nose scrunching at your contact which only makes you kiss him more.

• "i love you-" you plant a kiss on his cheek. "i love you-" one on his eyelid. "i love you-" one on his jaw. after some time of this, you've thoroughly peppered his face with lipstick marks, one in each section of his face and even a couple on his neck. you made art of his skin, and he was none the wiser.

• "okay, okay—" johnny laughs, pulling you away by your shoulders and kissing your forehead. "i'll be late if you keep loving on me like that." you manage to squeeze in one last kiss before he heads to work.

• when johnny arrives on the compound, he's greeted by an amusing amount of stares - which isn't unusual, considering he's a part-time movie star, but this time he felt more like a clown than an action hero.

• he stumbles into jacqui before the meeting, and she tenses up, at first raising a finger to inform him of his new face paint but opting not to — maybe cassie would be better to bear the news?

• arriving in front of the SF army, he notices that his daughter is already commanding the troop, standing front and center. johnny slinks in casually, so as to not disturb the routine.

• the sunglasses come off, and he notices that the crowd falls eerily silent, some even biting their lips to stop a smile. cassie takes notice and pivots to include herself on what seems to be so funny.

• "commander cage," johnny says with a nod, scanning the crowd nervously. "is... is everything...?"

• cassie bursts into laughter, doubling over and completely breaking from her professional stoicism. johnny can only throw his hands up exasperatedly.

• "seriously, what the hell is going on? people keep looking at me like i'm crazy." johnny pinches the bridge of his nose as cassie finds her handheld pocket mirror, one that he gave her many years ago.

• taking the mirror, he opens it and inspects his shirt, wondering if maybe he spilled his coffee. but when he catches a glimpse of his neck, he notices two reddish smudge marks. slowly angling the mirror upward, he realizes what's so god damn funny.

• he flushes red. sure, everyone knew you two were dating, but this was the least professional thing he'd done in a while — which is really saying something.

• "jesus, dad, you couldn't have washed them off before coming to work?" cassie asks, still cracking a smile. "reader's nice, but i didn't need to know how nice she is to you. oh my god, it's everywhere—"

• "i didn't know i had 'em," johnny mutters, wiping his face embarrassingly.

• you were in for one hell of a phone call when his break rolls around.

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #johnny cage #johnny cage x reader #johnny cage mk11 #mk11 #marley writes ☆

[buckyscombatboots]

Monstertober Day 2:

My Legacy

Pairing: Orc!Bucky x Captured!Reader

Warnings: Non con→Dub con, Dead dove: Do not eat, insults/degrading language, forced breeding, forced impregnation, drastic size difference, belly bulge, blood mention, virgin!reader, hair pulling, cowgirl→mating press, dacryphilia, dark!bucky, threat of violence, aphrodisiac

Nicknames: Tiny, little one, cum slut

Word count: 2.4 k

Monstertober master list

Master list

Tag list🎀

This has been long awaited, I know everyone loves Orc!Bucky, me too honestly. Enjoy.

A colossal, herculean man loomed over you, he was built from slabs of muscles that shifted under his thick layers of green skin. His bulging forearms, decorated with tribal tattoos, half concealed by a pair of tanned leather bracers, lined with fur; the designs carved into the leather matched his ornate iron pauldrons, slightly covered by the reddish-brown pelt of a direwolf, and the only thing covering his lower half was a loin cloth attached to a metal belt adorned with his tribe’s insignia. His eyes narrowed in a scowl, but despite this you could see his golden eyes, with flecks of amber and a vertical slit for a pupil—reminiscent of a cat's eyes. They were trained on you, hunched between the cart and barrels “How unfortunate Tiny. Should have hid better than that.” His meaniscing tone sends a ripple of goosebumps across your skin, a scream bubbles up to your throat and dies there as he reaches out for you. You scramble away from his enormous juniper hand, the lighter skin of his palm filling your vision before he opts for grabbing you by the waist and pulling you out “Gods above I can smell chu ‘ittle one. You’re terrified out your tiny little brain, but you're still so wet for me. If you play nice, I won’t have to hurt chu.” You consider chomping down on the web of skin connecting his thumb and forefinger, but Orcs are known for their tough skin, you decide not to. You stare up at the monster before you through your long lashes, tears streaming down your cheeks “Good, Tiny human. My true name is too complicated for your kind to understand or pronounce, so you can call me Bucky. I am War chief of this clan of Orcs, it will do you well to listen or I’ll pass you to the others. They ain’t too kind to little tiny girls like chu.” He begins to walk with you, pushing you to his beefy chest like a mother holding a baby close, your hands grab for purchase at the direwolf pelt strung across his shoulders; the feeling of the fur in your hands and the familiar scent brings you solace as he carries you over to a large group of orcs, one with blonde hair turns towards Bucky smiling with his tusks on full display, you cower at the sight—you know exactly what those tusks can do, you’ve watched them tear people like parchment “Steve, I’m going to head back to camp with a small group. You stay here. Kill any survivors, pillage whatever’s left, return by nightfall.” The Orc named Steve nods and replies in a strange serious of grunts, to which Bucky also replies in the same manner. They he’s walking again, he stops infront of an orcish warhorse—specially breed to be taller and stronger than normal horses to with stand the sheer size of the orcs— then he climbs on with you held in one arm

“Where are we going?” You whisper near his ear

“To your new home ‘ittle one.”

The ride back to the camp isn’t a long one, you slept for most of it as your adrenaline finally died down or you’d fallen into a state of shock. At this point you had no idea. When you awoke you’d arrived at what he called ‘your new home’ There were countless Orcs, they barely used any of their troops to conquer your village. The feeling of hopelessness rose in you once again.

“‘ere we are, Pet. Home sweet home.” He got off the horse and handed the reins off to another orc to be taken care of. He spoke to the orc bostriously with enthusiasm, smiling so wide you thought one of his tusks would like your eye out. Then he strode off decisively through the thicket of tents. He was taking you home, to his home. Not yours. He burnt yours down, he murdered your family. You hated the fact that seeing him smile and talking so happily, despite you being unable to understand what he was saying, made you happy. His attitude was contagious.

You approached a tent that was much larger than the others, it was also dyed a faded black compared to the other plain tents. It had two lit torches on each side of the pegs keeping it up and on the tent door was the same insignia that was on his belt, but this was painted in red—the colour of blood which he was so accustomed to spilling. You had to hate him, you needed to hate him.

He pushed aside the cloth entrance revealing a very spacious tent decorated in a sporadic manner with a large table that had a map splayed on its surface, your eyes shot down to all the red markers on it. One was on your village. They had planned this and nobody knew, fresh tears welled up in your eyes and you bit your wobbling lip, but a whimper still slipped. “This is your new home princess,” he wiped the tears from your eyes with one of his thick green fingers “so don’t cry anymore. It’s all gonna be okay. If you listen, everything will be fine. Now,” he placed you on the ground and walked over to a pile of things in the corner. He turned to face you before pulling out a shotel from behind him, but this shotel was the largest one you’d ever seen; the blade was unbelievably sharp, it was obvious that he’d spent hours sharpening, cleaning and customising it. Your legs collapsed beneath you as he pointed the curved blade at you, the point resting below your chin. Tears leaked from your eyes like a flowing river, you let out a whine as he hoovered it so close to your skin that you could feel the coolness of the blade “Move and I’ll cleave your skull in half. Understood?” Your vision shook as you meet his steely glare

“Y-yes.” You blubbered, he removed the blade and pulled out a chair from the long oaken table. The chair was much larger than a normal chair, obviously hand made for orcs by orcs—no scratch that, handmade for him. The chair was even bigger than all the others, it was made for Bucky, it was made for the war chief who towered above even other orcs. He plopped down in it, the twine holding it together creaking under his substantial weight, and opened his legs slightly clapping his massive bejeweled green hands down on his muscular bulging thighs.

“Come ‘ere little one. Sit on my lap.” He commanded, spinning the shotel on its blade on the hard packed dirt next to him. When you sat frozen, on the floor, he raised the blade towards you “I know you ain’t deaf. I don’t like repeatin’ myself.” You pressed your hands either side of your thighs and pushed yourself to your feet, your legs shook as you stumbled over. He extended out a massive green hand, you took it noting how your hand could only wrap around two of his fingers. Your line of sight travelled down to his dick. It was huge. Straining against the thin fabric of his loincloth. Straining so much that you could see all its features; dark green with lighter sections of skin, ribbed, with a thick gold ring pierced through the thin skin just under the head. There was no way he’d fit.

He helped you climb onto him, practically pulling you up by your arm which was dwarfed in his grasp. You straddled his lap, sat right in front of his bulging cock. Once you were in place he undid the opulent belt keeping the loin cloth in place and pulled. With one swift movement the belt and the loin cloth were both removed and thrown to the ground. His member was now on full display; girthy, long and definitely not able to fit inside you. You paled at the sight of it throbbing and leaking “It won’t fit!” You cried, attempting to run. He grabbed your arm just before you fel to the ground and pulled you back in place. You struggled against him, floundering like a fish drowning on land “Please! Anything else! You’re gonna kill me!” His hand clasped around your face as he reached back with his free arm and came back with a hefty glass bottle filled with a shimmering clear liquid.

“Breath, Pet. I ain’t expecting it to fit in you without a little help, little one.” He uncorked it with one hand and finally removed his hand from your mouth, you relished in the woodsy scent. He poured a generous amount on his hand “Take yer clothes off. Or I’ll rip ‘em off.” He ordered sternly, you met his gaze. His cat eye pupils had blown wide, filled with lust and need. You obliged, stripping off your dirty, torn clothes that smelt heavily of smoke. You swallowed your vomit as you recollected the state of your village.

His huge green hand began slathering the liquid on your pussy, it was warm. The heat coming off of the orc had heated it in such a short period of time, your eyes met his cock again. The heat of it was slightly darker green with a bluish cast, his balls were heavy and full. Your mouth was almost watering. You were pulled from you from your blatant ogling from the sting of a finger being inserted inside you. You yelped, grabbing at his thick wrist with your small hands “It hurts!” You yowled, beating at his calloused palm with your fist, he began moving his finger and the pain slowly melted into pleasure. You hummed at the heat filling your belly “Mhmn.”

“You’re a virgin aren’t you little one, there’s blood.” He cooed, slipping another finger. Which your quivering hole gladly took. You nodded slowly, whimpering as he stretched you, scissoring his fingers “Were gonna fix that. The Oil is enchanted, it should help you be able to take me, it’s also an aphrodisiac.” His words swam in your mind becoming almost meaningless as you pushed back on his fingers until you met his rings at the base of his thick, lengthy fingers.

Suddenly he pulled his fingers out, you whimpered at the loss humping his thigh for friction. You needed more. You wanted Bucky in you “Buck. Want you in me.” You mewl, grinding your sensitive bud down on the thick skin of his thigh

“Gladly.” He lifts you as if you weigh nothing and holds you above his dick, smiling coyly at your lopped sided grin and hazy eyes before slamming you down on his fat cock. The pain momentarily breaks your gaze but then the overwhelming feeling of his humongous prick filling your insides. Your hands travel to the bulge in your stomach, running your hands over it. Marvelling at it as he thrusts in and out. The meaty slaps of Bucky bouncing you roughly up and down on his lap filled the tent, more likely than not the sound was spilling outside. You didn’t care, right now you didn’t have the liberty to think much at all with his fat cock muddling up your insides. Your tongue fell dumbly out your mouth as you dribbled mumbling and moaning with every harsh thrust “That’s it, Pet, go dumb on my massive Orc cock. Never gonna want a human after this, they can’t fill you up like an orc. How pathetic. You deserve an Orcs cock to bring you this. Much. Pleasure.” He punctuated his words with his thrusts, bashing your cervix each time. You threw your head back in a silent wail, digging your nails into his large pecs as you relished in the orgasm that wracked your body. Constricted his cock, drawing a deep, primal grunt from his core “Yes! Come! Come as many times as you want pet, soak my cock in your juices my little cockslut. Gonna get you pregnant, gonna paint you fucking tight little slut hole with my seed. Gonna watch you swell with my children. Take it.” He groaned slamming into you with a new found vigour, picking you up as he stood.

You barely even registered him laying you on the bed until he pushed back your knees, resting them near your ears. You thought it impossible but he dick managed to nestle itself even further inside of you. An electric shock ran through your body as you came again, the pleasure being tears to your eyes as his thrust became more erratic, more powerful. His face loomed above yours staring intensely into your eyes “Gonna make you a mother, Tiny. You want to be the mother of my children? You want to grow with my child? You want to birth My Legacy?” He asked, “Answer me.” He demanded pounded into your cunt, his balls smacking against your ass, twitching, as he pushed down on your bent knees.

“Yes! Make me a mommy!” You cried, squeezing around him as he came inside you, he continued to thrust as he shot ropes and ropes of cum into you. Your stomach swelling with the sheer amount of spend shooting from his spasming tip.

“Ah feels so fucking good. Look at you, your body can barely contain my cum.” He chuckled, huffing, sweat glistening on his forehead as he littered your reddened face, ruined with tears and spit with passionate open mouth kisses.

“Felt good, wanna nap.” You yawned, your body tremouring from the overstimulation, your clit puffy and sensitive as his pelvis pressed into you enrolling you completely, blocking out almost all the light in the tent.

A hearty chuckle emerges from him, the sound fills your ears making more slick drip from your cunt onto his cock still buried in your overflowing pussy “Oh, we ain’t done yet, Pet. Gotta make sure you’re nice and pregnant, gonna fuck ya till I make ya look pregnant; so everyone knows who you belong to, that I have claimed you and that they can never touch you. ‘Cause you’re gonna have my babies, I’ll keep you filled and wanton on my cock ‘cause we Orcs mate for life after all, Tiny, and I’ve chosen you to be the bearer of My legacy.”

Tag list: @alina02 @winterslove1917 @unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men @petesey @getwellsoontana @feyfantome @alexxavicry @ashenc-blog @floral-recs @renster05 @redbloodedgurl @teambarnes72 @shrekwreck @sweetwrathoflilith @cjand10 @bunnyscraft @flamefoxxrecs @addie5587483

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[gejo333]

Jealousy II

Miguel O’Hara x Spider Woman Reader

Pt. 1

Summary: How did you and Miguel meet? What was your relationship like before you got together?

Hi everyone! I’m sorry I didn’t post yesterday. It’s extremely hot where I live and I wasn’t feeling well yesterday. But I promise to get all three stories out before Monday.

I apologize for any grammatical mistakes I missed.

Enjoy💕

Wc: 2.9k

____________________________________________

A painful groan escapes from your lips as you are slammed against a concrete building trapped beneath your world's green goblin. You tried to push yourself out of his grip, but your body was too tired to break away.

"You are so pathetic. You don't deserve to protect this city. You should just die by my hand right now and save yourself from further embarrassment." He throws his arm back about to throw his final blow against your head. Your breath shallow, you tiredly close your eyes waiting for the impact.

You open your eyes when you don't feel the impact. A loud noise echoed in your ears, your eyes widened as you witness the world split and opened some reddish portal. A red web shoots out from the portal, holding the Green Goblin's fist in place.

"What is-" the Green Goblin questioned before a large blue and red figure appeared from the portal and threw the green goblin off of you. The lenses of your mask widen when they meet the lenses of a similar mask before the strange figure slammed the green goblin to the floor.

Now free, you shoot your web out and swing yourself where the two crashed. Landing near it, you wait until the dust and debris settles. The same blue and red figure rose from the ground. Your gaze scans up the man's form, stretching his back muscles as he rises to his full height. You noticed a weird gizmo on his wrist as your gaze moved to his hands as his fingers revealed large claws.

"Who are you?" You ask the strange man who turns his head.

"That's classified." His lenses narrow as they stare straight at you.

"Ok Mr. Bond. You came out of thin air. I think I have some right to ask. Are you a villain?"

"No."

"A lunatic in a suit?"

"No, I'm-"

"Mr. Doomsday?" You chuckle when you notice him becoming frustrated.

"No, stop. I'm from another dimension." He turns to face you.

"You still didn't answer my question." You chuckle as you cross your arms as you lean into your hip.

"My name is Miguel O'Hara, I lead an alert strike force dedicated-" Disinterested in hearing his long, obviously rehearsed, speech you walk past him towards the passed out Green Goblin. Miguel turns around to watch your figure head towards the villain as you try to pick up the large figure but struggle to lift him. Miguel smirks under his mask, never once had he met someone who didn’t fear him. He walks over to you as he lifts the unconscious villain with ease and throws them over his shoulder before he begins to make his way towards the exit.

“I can handle defeating my own villains, thank you.” You huff as you quickly move in front of him, stopping him from walking as you wait for him to drop the villain and leave.

“You can barely stand yourself. So I doubt you could carry this guy.” Miguel let out a chuckle as he looked down at you. Why was this one spider woman gaining his interest so much? Besides Jess, many spider women and spidermen stuttered in his presence. Usually he always ignored the advances of many, when he wasn’t in the mood, which was the majority of time. He didn’t know what it was, but Miguel knew he didn’t want to leave your universe just yet.

“Try me.” Your eyes lenses narrowed. Even with a mask on you could tell he was being smug with you.

“Alright.” Miguel said as he handed you over the Green Goblin like he was a sack of potatoes. Caught by surprise you quickly try to put all your strength in carrying the figure. However, your fatigued body was fighting against you. After a few seconds of struggling Miguel lifted the villain and threw him over his shoulder again.

“I was right. As usual.” Miguel said as he stepped aside to walk around you.

“God, you're suffocating.” You mumbled as you walked with him outside of the building where the police and reporters had arrived. When you both stepped out lights of cameras flashed in your face as a few officers came up as Miguel dropped the Green Goblin into their custody. The police captain walked up to you.

“Nice work again Spiderwoman. Who is your companion?”

“No one. Just some pesky fly passing through.”

“A pesky fly?” Miguel’s eye lenses narrowed at you, not sure whether to chuckle or be insulted by your comment. After you finished talking to the police captain you shot your web out leaving the tall brooding figure behind you.

After swinging for a few minutes you land on the roof of your apartment building. Making sure no one can see you, you take off your mask as you inhale the fresh air around you, sick of the smell of sweat lingering in your mask. You turn around in surprise as you hear someone land on the roof from behind you. You roll your eyes when you see it was the same man as person.

“Miguel was it?” You arch your eyebrow as you briefly glance over his form.

“Yes.”

“Why are you following me? Also, what’s with the costume? I enjoy the fans who cosplay me but this is going a bit too far don’t you think?” You walk up to him as you greatly poke his chest but find that when your finger touches his suit, a small digital glitch appears where you poked him. Your cheeks lightly dusted a light shade of pink as you realized you were touching his bare chest. You took a step back and placed your hand down, making the suit go back to normal.

“How…”

“Like I was saying earlier back at the scene, I'm from a different dimension. In my dimension I’m Spiderman. There are an infinite amount of dimensions with their own version of spidersona. I created an elite strike force that is dedicated to protecting the multiverse and I want you to join.”

“You want me to be a part of your little squad?” You chuckle.

“It’s not a little squad. It’s an elite strike force.” Miguel argued, becoming frustrated by your humor. Your smile vanishes as you turn serious.

“Why me? If you saw there are an infinite amount of other spiders out there. Why did you choose me?”

“You have the potential to become one of the best spiders in the multiverse. With training you’ll get there in no time.”

“And by who? You?” You smile from your remark. If only you could see the reaction you were getting out of him behind his mask. You think for a moment if you should agree to his offer. It definitely was an enticing one.

“Well?” Miguel asked, beginning to grow impatient for you to answer. You let out a small chuckle as you smile, showing your dimples.

“Sure why not. How often do you have an opportunity like this one?”

…..

You huffed out loud, chest raising faster than usual as you sprawled out on the ground of Spider HQ training arena.

Three months of intense training with Miguel have been grueling. Waking up in the early morning and training until the sun had set long ago. For three months your body has been sore. You had to admit you were in the shape of your life and your skills had improved significantly. A large shadow blocked you from the irritating iridescent lights from above.

“Get up.” Miguel’s gruff voice echoed in the empty training center. When the both of you were training he didn’t open it for the rest of Spider HQ. Of course he opened two days out of the week for the rest of Spider society giving you a break. Until he deems you 100% ready, this will be your schedule for the foreseeable future.

“I can’t. My body is too sore to move. Leave me be.”

Miguel rolled his eyes as a small smile displayed on his lips from your dramatic attitude. He bent down and lifted you, carrying you bridal style to the nearest seat before setting you down gently. Your cheeks dusted red as your eyes met his soft brown gaze before looking away. Only you saw his natural eye color. When you first saw it about a month ago your heart went out of rhythm for a moment. Just like it was now.

“Um, thanks.”

“Of course, hermosa.”

“You know I don’t understand Spanish. I wish you would tell me what silly and probably degrading nickname you call me.”

“No can do.” Miguel chuckled as he saw the pout form on your lips.

“Well, maybe I can convince you to teach me.” You smile as you throw a towel at him, which he catches easily. He takes it and wipes the sweat away from his face before putting it over his bare shoulder.

“Maybe I will. If you don’t whine during training when you get tired.”

“No promises.” You grin up at him as you try to stand up but wince. You go to your dimensional watch as you press a few buttons to open a portal back to your world. “I’m taking tomorrow off.”

“What for?” Miguel’s brow knit together in confusion. This was the first time you had asked for the day off. He didn’t mind. But he was curious about your reason for asking to skip training.

“I have a date.” You look at him as you bite your lower lip as a nervous habit.

“A date?” Miguel's usual frown appeared on his face as he crossed his arms over his chest unknowingly flexing his biceps, which you happen to glance at.

“Yeah…met him at a coffee shop last week. I had a nice conversation with him and he asked me out to dinner.” You stop talking about it as you feel Miguel tense up when you begin to mention it.

“I have to go back to my office. Don’t be late to training the day after tomorrow.” Miguel ordered you, in his normal tone. He usually was nicer to you. Warm even. Without saying another word he began to walk away.

“Hey, what’s going on? Why the cold shoulder all of a sudden?” You move in front of him, stopping him from leaving. You lightly glare up at him as he looks down at you with his infamous frown. He sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright, I’m sorry, Hermosa. I do have work to attend to. I’ll see you the day after tomorrow.” He smiled slightly, gently putting his hand on your shoulder before gently moving you to the side and leaving. He couldn’t have you near him when he was angry. Of course it wasn’t his normal anger. He was angry that you were going to spend time with another man besides him. Yes, you weren’t his wife or girlfriend. But it still irked him greatly. He wanted you for himself.

As you watched him leave the training center your heart ached. Maybe going on this date is a mistake. Maybe you shouldn’t have said anything to him. You fear that you might have broken something beautiful that was being built between you and Miguel over the past months. Or maybe it was only you feeling this way. Maybe it wasn’t mutual.

You walk through the portal to your dimension as you lay awake in your bed thinking about only one thing.

Miguel.

You spent your entire day off resting in bed to help soothe your sore body before your date. As the hours ticked by closer to your date the worse the nerves in your stomach became. Not because of your upcoming date but because your gut was telling you to not go on the date. That it was a mistake.

“Thank you for a nice dinner.” You say to the man next to you as you walk out of the restaurant.

“Of course. I had a nice time. We should do it again sometime.” He said as he scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks tinted red.

“Y-yeah. We should.” You smile at him. He was nice and a perfect gentleman. And he was cute. Not at the level of Miguel, but not bad. As you both ear back to your apartment you feel your watch vibrate non stop. It was always Miguel when you checked the caller ID. But you knew it wasn’t an emergency so you decided to ignore him.

As you made it to your apartment your eyes widened when you saw Miguel, in casual clothing leaning against your door, waiting for you. When he noticed you walking down the hallway you stood up straight, his gaze moving from your to the man walking next to you.

“Are you��” your date asked as you shook your head no.

“No, he's just my friend.” You say as you send Miguel a light glare. “Why are you here Miguel?”

“Came to check in on you. I wanted to make sure you weren't with a creep. Still unsure.” Miguel crossed his arms across his chest as he stared down at the man next to you. Your date was only a few inches taller than you, which made Miguel look like a tower.

“Hey man, let’s not go down this road. We were having a good time until you showed up.” Your date said as he took a few steps towards Miguel. Of course the intimidation tactic instantly failed him. Maybe with anyone else. Anyone else except Miguel.

“Well, your time with her is over now and she won’t be seeing you again. So leave.” Miguel took a step closer as he glared down at the man. You walked up to Miguel as you placed your hand on his upper arm.

“The date was lovely but I think it’s time I say good night.” You smile at your date who frowns when he realizes you chose Miguel over him before he left. You lightly slapped Miguel’s arm when you noticed the smirk on his face. His grin remained on his lips as he looked at you. It was hard to stay mad at him and hide your smile when he looked at you like that.

You noticed his eyes fog into a lustful gaze as he turns his full body towards you and wraps his arms around your waist pulling you against his chest.

“You deserve a better man than him, hermosa.”

“Do you have a clue who that man is?” Your grin as you wrap your arms around his neck.

“I can give you a clue.” His grin widened as he took your chin, leaning down as his lips captured yours. A spark shot through your body up to your heart as you felt it glow. It wasn’t the only thing glowing in excitement as the kiss became hotter.

You quickly made your way into your apartment having a difficult time leaving each other’s lips on the other. Miguel grabbed your ass asking for you to wrap your legs around your waist, which you happily obliged as he made his way to your bedroom. His lips went from your lips to your neck as he laid you on the bed, hovering over you.

He stripped your clothing followed by his as his mouth left marks across your bare body. Miguel's mouth move back up from your chest to your neck as his lips reached your ear, whispering, “ You might be sore tomorrow morning, mi amor.”

…

Present Day

You were standing in the training room watching your mentee practice her different swinging techniques. The day began to leave as the sun left the sky. You looked at your watch and exactly on cue you got a message from your loving boyfriend saying he was finished with work.

“Ok that's it for today. Will continue training tomorrow.”

“Wait, we’ve only been training for three hours. I want to learn how to swing across upside down.” pouted Gwen.

“I’m sorry Gwen. But I have to give my attention now to Mr. Grump or he’ll begin to whine.” You chuckle.

As on cue Miguel walks up to you and Gwen followed by Hobie. Miguel smirks down at you, placing his hand on your lower back as he leans down to whisper something suggestive in your ear, making your cheeks blush followed by a small giggle escaping from your lips. You then wave goodbye to everyone before Miguel guides you back to his quarters.

“What did she mean by ‘Miguel needs her attention?’” Gwen asked, confused. Hobie grinned as he leaned down to whisper in her ear what you meant. Of course as soon as the words reached Gwen’s ear, her face turned cherry red as she covered her face with her hands. Hobie burst out in laughter holding his sides, as Gwen's reaction to his words was too cute and hilarious.

…

“I missed you, mi amor.” Miguel plants a kiss to your cheek as he leads you back to his quarters.

“Mig, you saw me this morning. But I missed you too.” You lean your head against his arm as you hold his hand.

Miguel opens the door to his quarters as he lets you in first. You gasp when you see a romantic set up displayed in the dining room.

“Happy first anniversary.” Miguel wrapped his arms from behind as he kissed your neck.

“Aw Mig, this is gorgeous. I love it, thank you. I can’t believe it’s been a year already. An amazing year. I’m glad you dragged my stubborn self here.” You turn around and kiss him, which he happily returned.

You were taken slightly by surprise when Miguel picked you up bridal style. The grin on your face widens when you notice the trail of rises leading to the bedroom.

“Now let me give you your second anniversary gift. I think you’ll love this one more.”

————————————————————————

Hope you enjoyed this long awaited sequel🥰

#miguel o'hara #spider man 2099 #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel x reader #oneshot #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #atsv miguel #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel x you #miguel imagine #miguel x y/n #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel spiderman

[yisony07]

Trick-and-Treat

Hello hello, despite still being on break, I wanted to take the opportunity to leave you this "thematic" story. I hope you like it!

"I still can't believe you went to that abandoned house and stole that thing," John said in a mix of laughter and disbelief as he stared wide-eyed at his friend Mark. “How on Earth did you do it?”

“Hehehe… you wanna know?” Mark asked with a smirk on his face, while holding a peculiar jack o lantern wrapped in a blanket, which was black on the outside and red on the inside. “When we get home I’ll explain.”

The sky was turning orange at sunset when both men arrived at Mark's apartment. It was the evening before Halloween and the pair of friends had been invited to a party at one of the most popular fraternities at his college. John took a seat on the couch while Mark placed the flashlight somewhere he considered special; in the end, he left it on a shelf near his bed. Mark returned to the living room.

"Well, this is what happened," and he proceeded to tell his story.

(Mark)

As the sky debated whether to stay blue or turn orange, a young man walked cautiously down the street. He saw around him how the houses were decorated with ghosts, witches, pumpkins, skeletons... the spirit of the festival of the dead roamed around, cheering the spirited and frightening the weak. Mark was one of the spirited ones, and what better time than Halloween to explore an abandoned house?

He left the university campus and headed to the edge of the city. Set back from the street, there was a house whose wood had several cracks and holes, the windows were dusty and legends said that there was a treasure guarded by a sleeping spirit, who only woke up during these times to curse thieves.

"Bullshit," Mark thought with a smirk as he stepped onto the grass that separated him from the house.

When he was in front of the door, he looked back to see if anyone saw him: luckily for him, there was no one. He took out his phone and sent a message to his friend John.

Come see me as soon as you can in this place, I'm gonna explore it.

Mark took a few steps to the threshold, grabbed the cold doorknob, and opened it. It was surprising that he had opened up so easily. Even though it was still afternoon, it was almost impossible to see in there, while the dust on the windows prevented the sun's rays from passing through.

"Now, where will the blessed treasure be?" he asked as he entered. When his foot was inside the house, a wind blew around him which made his hair stand on end and the door slammed shut. "What the...?!" he shouted, but calmed down in a few seconds. "It was just the wind..."

Mark walked around the site covering his mouth and nose to avoid the dust. He was going in a bit of a hurry, but he was careful not to trip over anything, although that task was complicated, since everything was almost in darkness. A creak made him look around, but there was nothing, or so it seemed. The whisper of the wind and the screech of wood with each step he took did not help the situation.

"I must be close," he thought, unable to hold back a cough.

Suddenly, Mark fell to the ground as he tripped on something hard that reached his calves. Getting up, Mark did his best to both wipe some of the dirt off and see what had caused him to fall.

"What an idiot!" he exclaimed, taking out his phone and turning on the flashlight. "Why didn't I think of it before?" he said before pointing at the object.

It was a black chest with gold edges. It was slightly open and a strange smell of rotten pumpkin emanated from it. Mark pointed around, but he didn't seem to see anything more interesting than the typical objects of a house with cobwebs on them and in a deplorable state of disrepair, so he returned to the chest, opened it, and with one hand took out the contents.

"This is the blessed treasure?" he questioned with clear disappointment upon seeing a reddish jack-o-lantern cloaked in a dark cloak.

He checked the chest for anything else. Someone else had probably ransacked the house before him, not only for the "treasure of little value" but also for the fact that the chest was in plain sight... well, that it was not hidden.

Mark took a photo as evidence and made his way back outside. Something strange was that, near the door, Mark heard a low cry:

"MARK!!!"

He looked everywhere with open eyes, but nothing seemed to have been the source. After a few seconds, he heard his name again.

"Mark! Mark!"

It sounded very different from the first call, but perhaps it was his ears playing tricks on him, as these screams sounded like the voice of his friend, John. He opened the door and left the house; he left never to return.

"And then I found you at the entrance…," he concluded with a triumphant smile.

"How cool! Imagine when you tell everyone at the frat party!"

"I'll finally be a legend and be recognized properly," Mark said.

"Well, I have to go, I haven't decided on my costume yet, do you want to come?"

"Nah, I'll see what I wear," and Mark couldn't hold back a yawn. "I'll take the opportunity to take a nap and be full of energy there!"

"Okay, see you around, bud."

And John walked away, leaving Mark alone in his house. Mark went to take a shower and wash off the dirt and smell that the visit to that house left on him.

When he came out of the bathroom, he only put on boxers and night pants, leaving his torso exposed. Then, he set the alarm on his phone an hour before the party, turned off the lights, and went to take a nap on his comfortable bed.

Even for the time, it was unusually cold, which made Mark's sleeping body shiver (although he didn't use fans or air conditioning). The sound of a glass object breaking suddenly woke him up.

"What the hell?" Mark said with a hint of fear. With his gaze he scanned the room and, in the seconds it took him to get used to being awake, he realized that a vase that his mother had given him before she died had broken, and his remains were scattered. on the floor. "How the fuck did this happen?" he asked, as the vase was neither in a corner nor near a window.

He looked around him and noticed the jack-o-lantern he had stolen, seemingly staring at him with an evil smile on his face. It seemed to be emitting a gloomy glowing smoke.

Mark dismissed any idea that it was a haunted object and carefully got up to find the broom and dustpan. He got another scare when, upon entering, he noticed that the flashlight was not on the shelf, but on the desk where he did his homework.

"It can't be, I must be hallucinating..." he told himself as he cleaned and threw away the fragments of the vase. "But just in case..."

Mark took the pumpkin, carried it to the apartment door, leaving it on the floor next to the frame, and returned to his room. He checked the time, there was still time before the alarm, so he lay back down on the bed.

"Maybe it was just a nightmare." he said, covering himself with the sheets.

A weak and low murmur sounded in the room while smoke entered through the cracks in the door. Disturbed by what had happened to him, Mark had not been able to sleep again, so he opened his eyes.

A mass of smoke floated in front of the door to his room in a gentle swirl. The door opened by itself and the reddish pumpkin floated towards him wrapped in the cloak, which extended towards the ground as if an invisible being was wearing it.

Before Mark could scream or escape, the smoke lashed out at him, grabbing him by the limbs. Mark struggled, but the smoke's grip was insurmountable; The pumpkin floated until it was close to his face, the cape gently brushing his legs.

"You think you're very brave invading other people's property, huh?" said a deep voice, the same deep voice that had raised the first scream in the house. The voice seemed amused, as if he were cruelly playing with a new toy, "You feel like you're the coolest thing and that people will admire you for breaking the law, right? Well, it's my turn to steal something from you."

Mark was wide-eyed and lip-trembling, unable to respond with anything more than an "I'm sorry..."

"I don't want your apologies… Trick or treat? You'll get tricked!"

The smoke holding Mark pulled down his pants, revealing a cock that was a little big so as not to be hard.

"Coming!"

The smoke lifted Mark and released him, leaving him in the air for a few seconds. In those endless seconds, all the smoke entered his body through all the orifices: mouth, nostrils, ears, penis, ass... Not even Mark's moans or kicks did anything to prevent it. With an evil laugh, no trace of the gas was left outside. Mark felt like a million bugs were moving inside him as he fell back into bed, or like a boiling river. His body shook non-stop and little by little he felt how he lost control over them. First his legs, then his torso, then his arms…

His body rose on its own and remained standing. One of her hands was massaging her nipples while the other went towards her penis. Mark groaned involuntarily.

"I haven't felt this in a long time..." said the spirit from the jack-o-lantern. "But it will be better when it is complete!" she added, and the head floated to rest on top of Mark's, the cape surrounding him from the shoulders.

"No, no, no..." Mark said, shaking his head from side to side, but his hands left their positions and made his head stay still, so that the pumpkin lowered as if it were a helmet. .

And when the pumpkin aligned itself with his features, Mark fell unconscious.

*Beep, beep, beep...*

The sound of an alarm made him open his eyes. Everything looked confusing. He blinked several times until everything became clear. He jumped up from the floor (why was he on the floor?) While he felt his hard cock and walked to the mirror.

Wait... Mark thought, why am I moving?

"Why?" his voice responded sarcastically, and his gaze fell on the mirror.

The cape fell over him elegantly. He was wearing a formal yet out-of-period suit with its sleeves with flourishes. His head was covered with a jack-o-lantern that served as a helmet.

"Because now I'm in control," the new Mark said, taking it off.

His features were similar to Mark's except for the reddish glow in his eyes and the real vampire fangs he had grown. The spirit ran his new tongue over his lips and formed a smile as he inspected his appearance. He moved his hands to the buttons of his shirt and unbuttoned the top ones, so that he could show off those juicy pecs.

"Looks like I'm ready to party," he said, laughing. A grimace of pleasure crossed his face. "Fuck... how much I missed this..." he added, undoing the strap and opening his pants, so that his enormous bulge under his boxers was exposed.

Wh-wh-what are you going to do with me? Mark asked, unable to control his body.

"Didn't you want to please everyone by showing off your prowess? I'll just give them proof of our... my abilities," he replied as he rubbed his bulge.

NO!!!! Mark shouted, but it was no use.

The spirit went to the party, leaving everyone surprised by the lascivious and shameless way in which he was dressed.

"Trick or treat," the spirit said through Mark, grinning lasciviously at those present and slapping his ass. "I'm ready to give everyone a good treat."

And Mark, defeated, witnessed and felt how his body was used like a slut to satisfy everyone's horny desires, including the incessant pleasure-seeking of the spirit that controlled him.

-The End-

Trick or Treat everybody!!

#ghost possession #gay ghost possession #gay transformation #male transformation #male tf #male body possession #male possession #body possession #body takeover

[octuscle]

I'd love to be transformed into a huge Asian bodybuilder.

If only your app had a pleasure and punishment setting, I'm a bit of a who're for muscle growth with a big serving of punishment on the side

It was the first time that Pierrick was allowed to represent his employer, a French car manufacturer, at an international congress. Although he was only 27 years old, Pierrick was already a department head in research and development for alternative fuels. And now he was a little excited about what to expect over the next few days in Seoul. He had arrived late, it was actually long past his bedtime, but he felt like a nightcap. So he went to the hotel bar, which was almost empty now, just before midnight. The only person still sitting at the bar was an old short man with a bald head and a long white beard in a black coat. Grotesque, he looks like the teacher from Kung Fu Panda, Pierrick thought to himself and made eye contact with the barman. Pierrick asked for a local schnapps and was given a glass of soju. Spicy stuff, comparable to vodka. He ordered a second glass. The old man next to him sat silently in front of his glass, presumably just drinking water.

After the third glass, Pierrick's tongue loosened. He philosophized about the fact that you could power cars with schnapps. Powerful, mighty cars. And that it was a shame that you couldn't drive people with booze. For him, wine, pastis and Marc de Champagne would only have led to a beer belly. And not mighty, powerful muscles. How wonderful it would be if you could power the human body with this delicious soju, for example. The old man looked at him and said in his best, accent-free French, "Si tel est ton souhait, alors que ton souhait soit accordé!" Damn it, had the man understood what he had been babbling to himself the whole time? Pierrick had to laugh, gulped air and burped. "죄송해요, 술에 익숙해져야 해서요." he said, still laughing. Pierrick waved the bartender over and said, "저와 제 친구를 위해 소주 두 잔!" He wanted to thank the old man and drink a toast with him. But Pierrick was alone in the bar. With two glasses of soju.

Pierrick downed the first glass in one go. It burned in his stomach. And his stomach became hard. Hard as a rock. Pierrick ran his fingers over his stomach and felt the ridges of a six-pack. But his stomach was bloated. Pierrick knew what they called it: "roid gut". He had a veritable roid gut. He drank the second soju, thanked his new friend the bartender, ordered another bottle of soju to take back to the room and put it all on his room bill along with a generous tip. On the way to the elevator, his steps became heavier and heavier. It wasn't just because Pierrick was drunk as a skunk. He was also getting heavier and heavier. The seams of his jeans were stretched to bursting point. And lost in thought, Pierrick unbuttoned his shirt before his chest muscles could tear the buttons off. In the elevator, the first seams of the jeans gave way with a crash. When he arrived in his room, shreds were still hanging down from his belt. Pierrick took another swig from the bottle, fell back on the bed and fell asleep, snoring.

The next morning, Pierrick had a hangover, a huge hangover. The chambermaid had woken him up at 13:00. He had slept through half of the first day. He went to the bathroom with a heavy head. And needed a sip of soju first. Pierrick was naked. What he still had on had been blown off his body. And his body was big. The body of a serious bodybuilder. And there were other things that were more than strange. His reddish-blond curls were straight and noticeably darker. Chestnut-colored, but already very close to black. His body hair had disappeared and his skin had a darker, somehow golden shade. He needed another sip of soju. And he could have sworn that his eyes became a little almond-shaped as he did so.

Pierre-Ick had to sit down. And think. His suitcase wasn't even open yet. But nothing he had packed would fit him. After a quick check, the only thing that worked to some extent was his pyjama bottoms. Normally they would have been very loose. Now they were skin-tight. He looked at the hotel information pages on the television. There was a health and fitness club on the third floor and there was also supposed to be a small store there. Pierre-Ick put on a bathrobe and went to the elevator. He still felt a little drunk. But the sip had done him good.

The waitress in the store smiled politely, ignored his alcoholic breath and helped him find something suitable to wear. There wasn't much in his size, but suitably dressed for a workout and with a sports bag containing a tracksuit, a couple of T-shirts, socks and jockstraps, Yerre-Jick went straight on to the gym. He didn't really know anything about lifting iron, even though he looked like he lived in a gym. And he didn't know how to use the machines or the dumbbells. He sweated like a pig at the slightest movement. He was always hanging around the drinking fountain. He bought himself a bottle of protein shake. None of it helped. He looked like a Hercules. But he trained like a weakling. Thank God it was empty in the gym. But as more and more customers appeared on the training floor, Yerre-Jick gathered his things and went back to his room. He was exhausted, he was done, he needed a sip of soju. And that was obviously what he had needed. The strength flowed back into his body. Yer-juk filled up as if he could tear out trees. The tank top, which had just been quite loose, was now crisply tight. He poured a little schnapps into his water bottle and made his way back to the gym.

The other people were at least irritated by his slightly staggering pace. But damn, in Ye-Jun's case, alcohol was simply the best fuel for his muscle growth. He had heard somewhere that you could even fuel cars with booze. But he couldn't imagine that. But what did he know about it? He lived in the gym, was always a bit drunk and earned his money as a billboard for HiteJinro. Life was great!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #race change #sweat soaked

[roguelov]

Green-Eyed Monster

Summary: While Morpheus takes care of the Dreaming, you find yourself enjoying a past time of yours: finding and cuddling cats of the Dreaming. It was a fun and innocent game. Or it was. One day, Morpheus spots you with a cat in your lap and strangely becomes jealous. So, how will he solve this? By becoming a cat himself, of course.

Word Count: ~2.6k

Reader: Gender Neutral (not explicit)

Warning: Some minor jealousy, mostly fluff, light teasing and suggestive hints in the end

Requested by the amazing @dreamstatednightmare

Morpheus - the sole provider of the Dreaming and all of its residents - was obviously a busy man. His attention constantly pulled in every direction from ensuring dreams and nightmares were doing their duties, to aiding whoever asked, and to keeping the Dreaming afloat and in perfect order. For the Dreaming was a cog in the cosmic wheel which was of utmost importance, its effects rippled out to all realms.

You understood this greatly, Morpheus had responsibilities that came first, and that never bothered you. In fact, because of such reasons, whenever you visited the Dreaming you created a game for yourself. There were many wondrous, unimaginable things to see and do in the Dreaming, but strangely you noted all the mundane things. Things you could easily see in the Waking, things such as the occasional house cat trotting around the palace.

Did Morpheus have an affinity for cats? Or did cats have an affinity for Dream of the Endless?

You supposed it didn’t matter.

When Morpheus had business to attend to, you would go ‘hunt’ for cats. You would stroll throughout the palace, and its grounds - sometimes even venturing into Fiddler’s Green - to find a cat. To your surprise, it was quite easy. In minutes, you would find yourself tucked under a tree, or on a bench, with a cat in your lap and possibly another walking around. You would sit for what seemed to be hours mindlessly petting it, listening to its calming purring, or coo at the furry stray. You would even tell stories to them, be it fictional or from your own life.

You enjoyed this little game of yours.

So, when you visited the Dreaming tonight, you found yourself in a portion of the palace's lustrous gardens - the rose garden. The rose bushes stretched tall and wide as a thick wall, forming an extravagant labyrinth to get lost in. Roses of all colors bloomed from a pure innocent white to a dark red dripping with a passion. Yet, you sat on the outer edges under a tree; the tree had iridescent green leaves and glass like flowers hidden in the foliage. The sunlight always shined above, sending prisms of splintering rainbows all over. But, despite such beauties, you were here for a simpler reason. You smiled as you spotted a shadow again up ahead in the rose bushes. A distinct shadow you came to know well - a feline shadow.

You gently called out, “Come on out, I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Pale green eyes - almost yellow in the sunlight - peered out from behind the leaves. Its eyes nearly blended into the mess of various greens.

You smiled kindly, extending out your hand towards it.

A reddish brown nose poked out.

Back in the palace, specifically in the royal library, Morpheus rose from a chair away from the long thin table. “If there is nothing else, Lucienne, I would like to take my leave for the day,” he said.

Lucienne closed her journal, which now had a completed checklist written inside, and looked up at her lord. “Everything has been accounted for and addressed, sire.”

“Good. I will be leaving, but if anything arises do call.”

“Of course, my lord.” She nodded and began tidying up all the documents scattered over the table top. With new dreams and nightmares being created, space for them was now needed. The Dreaming was under minor maintenance and readjustments.

Morpheus scanned over the documents and blueprints, feeling satisfied with the solutions. His eyes flickered to Lucienne as she piled up the papers. “And do rest, Lucienne, you deserve it.”

Lucienne blinked then smiled softly. “I will, thank you.”

Morphues nodded, then strolled out of the library. The second the door clicked behind him, his thoughts instantly went to you. Where could you have run off to this time? He wished he could offer more of his time to you. His heart ached, knowing you were alone. You swore it never bothered you. However, it bothered him. Immensely. Surely, the Dreaming would take care of you; you could find entertainment anywhere and never grow bored.

But.

But, he wanted to be there. He wanted to show you wonders. In the end, however, he could not divide his attention so easily.

He sighed to himself, walking out to the grounds of the palace. You said you wouldn’t stray too far.

“Oh, look how lovely you are.”

Morpheus’s footsteps faltered. He twisted around to locate your voice. Under one of the trees bathed in rainbows, there you were. You sat cross-legged on the soft patch of grass with your back pressed against the trunk of the tree.

He moved to call out to you, almost believing you were speaking to him, when a cat - a brown tabby cat - slowly walked towards you.

You cooed as the cat reached you and you began scratching behind her ears.

Morpheus oddly felt himself deflate.

The cat purred, leaning into your touch. Smiling, you whispered praises. You ran a finger over the dark stripes, softly tracing over the somewhat misshapen ‘M’ on her forehead. The cat closed her eyes, tilting her head back loving every second.

You chuckled. “Do you like that?”

At the sound of your laughter, such a sweet sound, a dark cloud began to form over the King of Dreams’ head.

You scratched the tabby’s cream colored chin, and your smile widened as her purring grew louder. The cat pushed her head into your hand, grateful for every ounce of affection you were giving. When her pale green eyes opened, she seemed as if she was smiling up at you. Her eyes twinkled. Then, without warning, she hopped into your lap, curling into a ball.

“God, you are adorable,” you whispered, giddily.

She rolled onto her back, peering up at you. You wiggled your fingers in front of her face and she meowed and batted at them. You laughed, loud and wholeheartedly.

Morpheus’s jaw clenched.

Why? Why did anger worm into his heart over such a small insignificant creature?

His eyes locked onto you. You peered down at the feline. Your fingers carefully caressed over her head and down her back. So delicate, so loving. A sickly green clouded his vision. He craved your attention after such a grueling day, and to see a cat be the prize of such affection? Jealousy and disgust filled him. How dare this creature tread on what was his?

He did not think twice.

He stepped forward.

His mortal figure withered away into a cloud of glimmering yellow sand. Each drop quietly scattered across the ground, like hushed bells. As the cloud shrunk, a black long hair cat strolled out. His gaze landed on you, or more accurately the stray in your lap. With his head held high, he walked over while his tail flickered side to side.

The tabby cat perked up her head, noticing Morphues first.

Morpheus, with his unnaturally bright blue eyes, locked eyes with the cat. Disgust and hatred written plainly in his eyes. The cat pinned her ears back and swiftly leapt out of your lap, sprinting off back into the rose bushes.

“Well, what got into her?” You asked, confused.

You glanced over to where the cat was looking earlier, before her grand escape, only to spot a new cat. The gorgeous all black cat had a regal air about him as he approached you. You shrugged off the other cat’s peculiar behavior. Smiling at the black cat, you stretched out your hand in a welcoming gesture. “Hello there, little one.”

The cat sniffed your hand only once before pushing his head into your hand. Your smile widened. He seemed to like you more than any other cat you met. The cat purred and instantly jumped into your lap.

You laughed. “Okay, make yourself at home.”

The cat looked up at you with such beautiful blue - and somehow familiar - eyes. You started scratching the top of his head, and he sunk down into your lap. His tail happily swished back and forth.

Morpheus could not deny how heavenly this all felt.

“You are truly a beautiful cat,” you hummed. “And so soft too.”

Your fingers carded through his fluffy, cotton candy like fur. You wanted to bury your face in his fur. Oh, it was so warm too, like a gentle hug, soothing and welcoming. Another sense of familiarity tickled in the back of your mind. The texture, to some extent, but the color reminded you of -

It clicked.

You huffed through your nose, amused. You continued to scratch behind his ears. He snuggled deeper into your lap, purring constantly and nonstop.

“I know it’s you, love,” you whispered. The cat jerked his head up, staring up at you with those endless oceanic eyes. You ran a finger from his nose over his forehead. You bent down kissing the top of his head, over the smoothed out fur. “So, now I am left wondering why you have taken the form of a cat? Care to explain, Morpheus.”

Morpheus stared, silently. Does he dare say the reasoning? Does he keep up the charade?

You scratched under his chin. He immediately closed his eyes, and began purring once again.

You snickered. “Is that why you are like this? To be scratched? To be pampered?”

Morpheus’s eyes shot open. He huffed, partially annoyed; be it at you for the accuracy of your questions or himself for acting this way, he did not know why.

“Or to be cooed at?” You teased. “My sweet, adorable Morpheus.”

Morpheus turned his head, holding it up high. Now, that was ridiculous.

“Oh come on, you came to me like this.” Your hand ran down his back through his midnight fur. “You clearly wanted this.”

Morpheus peered out of the corner of his eye to you.

A smile graced your lips. Brilliant and beautiful.

His heart skipped.

Maybe, this was enough. The charade was clearly over.

He leapt out of your lap. In mid air, a tornado of shadows and golden sand swirled tightly around Morpheus’s tiny feline figure. It grew bigger and wider in the air. In a span of a few seconds, black boots landed firmly on the ground. The sand wisped away twinkling like distant stars, and Morpheus stood above you back in his mortal form.

“Aw, did you have enough already?” You tossed him a cheeky smile.

Morpheus rolled his eyes as he tried to hide an amused smile. Despite your teasing, he could not help but smile when you smiled. Even if the reasoning was at his own expense.

“So?” You hummed.

Morpheus raised an eyebrow.

“Care you explain why you greeted me as a cat?”

Morpheus’s lips thinned. Apparently, anger was still heavy on his chest. Anger and embarrassment. He glanced away, avoiding your gaze. He looked to where the other cat scampered off, luckily she had not shown her face again. He was thankful for that.

You stared at him, silently dissecting him. Morpheus was always one to close himself off to negative, unsavory emotions. Yet, despite his efforts, you could read him fairly well. Your eyes followed his gaze towards the rose bushes, to the exact spot the tabby cat darted into.

“Was it the cat?” You asked, starting to pull at the thread.

Morpheus tensed. He slowly turned his attention back to you. His silence was your answer.

You snorted. “Morpheus, were you jealous of a cat?”

“No,” he quickly answered. Far too quickly, it only confirmed your suspicions.

You laughed. Standing up, you leaned in towards Morpheus. “You were jealous of a measly little cat.”

Morpheus huffed.

“Now, why would you be jealous? It is only a cat, Morpheus.”

“A cat which has garnered all of your affection.” He fired back.

You blinked then shook your head, still smiling. “It is a cat, it has not ‘garnered all of my affection’.”

Morpheus grumbled. “Then why shower it with any affection at all? Why not seek out my company instead?”

Your smile softened. Here is the true problem. You reached up with one hand and cupped his face. “Because, you are busy and I do not want to disturb you.”

He placed his hand on top of yours. “I know, but I wish you would. You do not have to be out here finding entertainment in strays.”

“But, I like it.”

He frowned.

“It is just a game, Morpheus. An innocent game of finding cats while I wait for you.” You stroked his cheek with your thumb. “It’s honestly relaxing and a bit fun, you should join me sometime.”

Morpheus frown deepened. That was possibly the last thing he wished to do.

“Oh, don’t be like that. A few cats cannot steal my heart, okay? And you know why?”

Morpheus stared. You silently prompted him to ask, to play along. He shook his head, but his lips slowly tugged back into a smile. “Why?”

“Because you already have it.”

He blinked. Your eyes shone with adoration, such beautiful eyes. He sighed, leaning into your touch. What a fool I am, he thought. His hand curled around your wrist, wishing to stay like this. “Apologies, love,” he muttered, “it seems I have let my emotions get the best of me.”

Not the first time, you jokingly thought. “It’s okay.”

He turned his head, kissing the inside of your wrist. “I think I may have a solution for our limited time apart.”

“Oh?”

“Would it be inappropriate to ask you to join me occasionally while I work? It could also provide an opportunity to show you all of the Dreaming.”

You smiled. “I would be honored.”

He returned the smile. “I hope you do not grow bored during such frivolous tasks.”

“I don’t think I will, and maybe I can help you. It could speed up the process.”

“Perhaps.”

With your free hand, you brushed back strands of his messy raven hair. “I just want you to know if you want my attention,” you leaned in pecking his lips, “just ask for it.”

Morpheus’s hands skimmed down your body, wrapping around you. “Is that so?” He whispered, playfully.

“It is.” You smirked, “You don’t have to go through crazy shenanigans like turning into a cat.”

He laughed once. “I suppose not.”

“But,” you began. Morpheus cocked his head curiously. Your arms fell over his shoulders as your fingers started to play with the edges of his hair. Your smirk grew, and your eyes twinkled with mischief. “But, you may not get any work done with me around.”

“Oh, really?” He leaned in, matching your smirk.

You hummed. “I may want all your attention to myself, I may become a distraction.”

Morpheus’s lips brushed over yours. “A welcoming distraction if ever.”

You chuckled. “How about we take this elsewhere? Maybe inside before another cat comes prancing in to ‘garner’ my affection.”

Morpheus had to suppress a groan. “I will not love this down, will I?”

“No, you will not. You were quite cute as a cat.” You kissed him - fleeting, but oh so loving. “But not as cute as you are now.”

He shook his head, but still smiled.

You took his hands, guiding him towards the palace. “If you want my affection, then let me show you how much you mean to me, my sweet king.”

Smiling, he tugged you back towards him, pressing you firmly up against him. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear. “Only if I get to return the favor, my love.”

You laughed as Morpheus quickly took the lead. He nearly rushed back inside, now knowing he will have your fullest attention - the thing he always craves.

#the sandman #Morpheus #dream #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader #morpheus x reader #dream x gn!reader #morpheus x gn!reader #gender neutral reader #sandman dream

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

i’m gay

YOU WANNA BE ME SO BAD YOU WANNA FUCK ME SO GOOD YOU WANNA DO IT SO GOOD YOU WANNA DO IT TO ME AND I WANNA BE THE GAY-O-METER I'M FUCKIN' GAY-UH, M, I'M THE GAY-O-METER AS I'M FUCKIN' FUCKIN' GAY-UHH I'M THE GAY-O-METER GAY-O-METE, I, GAY-O-METER'T ME

#the strange reddish man #gay-as-in-happy #skrunklysoup

[thescholarlystrumpet]

Slow burn Human AU Priest Aziraphale x Crowley (set in WW2). Complete and posting 1-2x weekly.

For Loving One- Rated Explicit

Father Fell has been living a quiet life in a small parish. Despite the looming fear of war, he thought he was content with his small pleasures. Until a mysterious stranger comes to town, turning that life on its head and awakening desires the Father thought he buried long, long ago...

Chapter one

It was quite late and Father Fell was sweeping in the chapel when there was a thudding sound. He looked up in alarm only to find a long, thin man standing in front of the entrance. 

Standing was a relative term in this case. The strange man was leaning to one side, seeming to favor his left leg. He wore dusty clothes of nondescript color, ragged looking, and a cap pulled low over a short, unkempt reddish beard. 

“May I be of assistance, my good Sir?” Father Fell asked gently, holding tight to the broom just in case it was needed for safety. It was not common to encounter anyone out of doors this late, especially not since the War started. 

The man limped toward him and made a hoarse sound, either a cough or a clearing of the throat. He shook his head and even that slight movement set him even more off balance. As the stranger careened toward the nearest pew, Father Fell dropped his broom and ran toward him. 

The priest was just barely in time to catch the stranger from what might have been a nasty bash to the head. Instead, Father Fell pulled him sideways and they both landed on the carpeted floor with a forced exhale. 

Keep reading on AO3

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Anyone who knows me has probably heard me talk about this fic. It has been a labor of love and occasional tears. I’m overjoyed to finally be sharing it with all of you!!

@goodomensafterdark @fuckyeahgoodomens

#good omens fic #aziracrow #azicrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable spouses #good omens fanfiction #good omens smut #priest aziraphale #my fic #slow burn #good omens long fic #aziracrow fic #ineffable husbands fic #aziraphale #crowley #anthony j crowley #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley

[dottcre]

material hunt gone wrong

contains : sex pollen, little d/s dynamic for most of the fic, sub!dottore, gn!reader, porn with very little plot, dry humping, desperation, crying, begging

a/n — i tried writing the plot before everything happened, and i couldn’t come up with anything because i was too busy thinking about dick, so you can come up the plot by yourself. this is also the last nsfw fic i’ll write before the fapbruary event!

You were absolutely captivated by the flower, its huge petals and gorgeous reddish colour. The closer you got to it, the sweeter it smelled, and the more you felt the need to touch it. Everything about it screamed “danger”, yet you were stuck in a trance, and your body had moved on its own.

“Hey! Don’t!” Zandik yelled out, but it was too late. Your hand had come into contact with the strange looking flower, causing it to eject a cloud of pollen, suffocating the both of you. You tried to hold your breath, and so did he, but the sickeningly sweet scent of it lingered in the air as the pollen formed a thin layer on your clothes and skin. Coughing, you brushed it off as carefully as you could, making sure to not come in contact with the grains as you did so. He mirrored your actions, shaking himself off with a scowl on his face.

“What is wrong with you? Do you just touch every strange thing you see in the wild?” He let his polite facade slip as he lashed out at you.

“There was something off about it! I couldn’t stop myself!” You tried to argue, but Zandik was way beyond listening to you. He was muttering to himself furiously, still attempting to get the fine dust out of his hair. A dull, burning heat started creeping up on you, and you started to feel breathless. Was the pollen poisonous? You glanced at the blue haired man to see if he were experiencing the same symptoms as you. He was kneeling by the river, scooping handfuls of water and splashing it on his face, which was dark red. He seemed to be breathing harshly as well, a frustrated expression on his face.

You should’ve consulted your Akasha Terminal regarding the plant, yet you stumbled over to where Zandik was. You sat uncomfortably close to him, close enough that you could feel his shoulder against yours and smell the light floral scent in his hair. Had it always smelled so good? His skin was glistening slightly, and you didn’t know if it was from the water or from sweat. None of you moved away from the other, and only then did you notice that he’d stopped muttering to himself. For some reason, you don’t think he’s looked more attractive than he did at that moment.

“Zandik,” you called out, and he didn’t turn to look at you. Even from the side, you could see that his pupils were dilated. “There’s still some pollen in your hair.” Your movements were sluggish, reaching up to fluff the pollen out of his hair. He let out a huff when the tips of your finger ghosted along the side of his face, his breathing growing more ragged as he finally turned around, only to glare at you.

“This is your fucking fault,” he spat, gritting his teeth, and you didn’t need to look down to know that he was hard. You weren’t any better yourself, mind fuzzy with arousal. It was hot, and it was burning you up. Your mind wasn’t your own as you lunged forward, kissing him messily as your hands scrambled to undo his belt. Zandik didn’t hesitate, hands gripping your sides to grind you down on him. You gave up with the belt, choosing instead to push him over onto the grass, pinning him down by his shoulders.

He grunted in response, but it quickly faded into a string of moans as you started rolling your hips against his, throwing your head back as you finally felt the much-needed stimulation. Your movements were erratic, desperate, and so were his. His deep groans turned into whines and cries as he grew closer to his end. His dick was throbbing with every grind and he swore it felt like he was about to pass out.

His orgasm hit him like a truck as he came, pleasure searing through his veins. You leaned forward, absorbing his noises hungrily as you kissed him. A few more thrusts later, your hips stuttered and you buried your face in the crook of his neck, muffling the almost-embarrassing sound you let out as you came.

It didn’t take you long to realise that Zandik was still hard, and you were still absurdly turned on yourself. “More,” he growled, and you then noticed he was tearing up. “Fuck, more.” This time he whimpered, and you didn’t have time to respond before you began thrusting your hips forward again, the both of you crying out at the overstimulation.

You were sensitive, extremely so, but he was even worse, choking out moans as a thin line of drool formed on the corner of his lips. He was beyond overstimulated, yet he demanded for more.

His cries of “More! Please! More!” rang out into the forest, and for the whole afternoon, you obliged, fucking him till his throat was raw and his brains were a puddle in his head.

#i just had to get this out of my system… #been thinking about it for a week or so #@ a thousand kisses. ares #il dottore #dottore #sub dottore #genshin #genshin impact #sub genshin #genshin smut #dom reader #sub character #dottore smut #genshin impact smut

[hekateinhell]

Armand/Daniel "Oh, hey now, don't start crying on me"

New York City, 1979

"Oh, hey now, don't start crying on me," Daniel swallowed, the gin and tonic Armand had so lovingly prepared minutes earlier churning restlessly in his stomach as the hand that wasn't still holding the empty glass came to pet Armand's curls on his lap.

Not the first time Daniel had seen Armand cry, but that didn't make it any fucking easier. His father's voice rang through his head, overlapping with the intro to Saturday Night Live: "Now don't cry like a little bitch, son. Makes you look weak. A goddamn punching bag. And that's no son of mine, so you better man the fuck up or I'll give you something to cry about!"

Daniel blinked hard, willing himself to focus. Willed the alcohol to clear his system immediately, as if that would make this any easier. As if that would give him the answers to all the questions he's ever asked.

One of the two ice cubes in the glass had fully melted, and the other wasn't far behind.

"Hey, hey, it's okay."

It's not okay.

Shit people say when they want it to be okay and it's not gonna be. Never gonna be. But they can't stand being powerless and so they lie to themselves and everyone around them to maintain the grand illusion.

He never knows what to do when Armand's crying. It's so... fucking human.

So fucking human it hurts.

A different shade of vulnerability on Armand than his laughter endows him. When Armand laughed—a genuine, full-body laugh—Daniel could see him as the witty, sweet-natured youth with a sharp tongue he must have been once upon a time. Strange to think that anyone who's ever seen that has been dead for half a thousand years, huh, Danny boy? He could almost imagine what Armand would've looked like with the sunlight kissing his skin, igniting the reddish highlights in his dark auburn hair, a constellation of freckles over the bridge of his nose and across his cheekbones. Stranger still to think of seeing his mouth open and no fangs in sight. And would you have loved him just the same? Daniel shuddered at the thought.

Yes, laughter was one thing, but crying? Tears?

The way Armand cried—silent and unblinking, unbreathing—made Daniel think of a child in some distinctly horrifying way. Made his heart wrench in two, his skin crawl, and the edges of his vision blur.

Because it's not the way some children cry when they scrap their knees on the pavement or wake up from a nightmare. Loud and visceral and sure to make Mom come running down the hall.

No, Armand cried like a child who had learned long ago there was no point in crying out loud. And staring into the quarter inch of water now in his glass, Daniel knew why.

He knew that cry; he'd cried that cry.

Hiding his closet, biting into his ratty teddy bear so that his father wouldn't hear and beat him for having the audacity to feel emotion the old man didn't know what to do with. And what had been the lesson? No wonder he didn't know how to comfort this creature he so loved. Dear God, you might as well be as emotionally stunned as that cankerous, old- 

Armand squirmed over Daniel's thighs then, snuggling into him as his eyes finally closed and his body gave. His smaller hand reaching for the one Daniel still had on his head.

A lingering kiss to his fingertips, a soft nudge against Daniel's brain: Thank you, lover. You are such a comfort to me.

It's okay.

Everything's okay.

#not sure what you were looking for anon but it got just a bit angsty rip i'm brooding tonight #i didnt have time to get into it- #but in my head armand is crying because he's feeling the weight of 500 years of unbroken existence and missing his mom!!!! #i'm so out of practice writing this ship even though it used to be my bread and butter LOL hope you like it #armand/daniel #devil's minion #vc #armand #daniel molloy #prompts

[dried-up-f1sh]

This is my Hazbin Hotel OC, Genevieve. She's a siren overlord. In this drawing I just drew her in a different outfit from her usual ones, so yes, I'm aware it doesn't fit her era. Her main outfit is actually a yellow polkadot swing dress. Anyway, here's some info about her:

TW: brief mentions of murder, and drowning

Powers: She can control people's emotions with her singing, shapeshift, imitate voices, she has hydrokinesis, and she can detect electric fields underwater (kind of like a shark). She's able to do so because she has ampullae of Lorenzini.

Likes: Gardening, cooking, her kids, singing, keeping the hearts of her victims as trophies, making people smile, old movies

Dislikes: Being undermined, misogynists, being watched, being replaced, not reaching people's expectations

Backstory:

Genevieve, a famous singer in the 1950s, and a scientist with a streak of impulsiveness, was opened to a world of crime after accidentally killing a man in self defense. After getting away with it, she became bolder, killing those who deserved it by luring them backstage after concerts, but, unfortunately one night her recklessness cost her.

While attempting to dispose of a body by throwing it off a pier, her still conscious victim dragged her to the sea with him as they drowned together. One moment she was kicking and screaming against the water as it forced its way into her lungs, the next moment she woke up to the feeling of cold concrete and reddish skies. That's when she realised she was in hell.

Determined to continue her career as a singer, she decided to work alongside a strange demon who called himself Vox. He promised her a world of ideals, similar to that of the life she lived before it was tainted with sin. Unfortunately this dream involved the destruction of herself in order to fit the expectations of everyone. To be completely flawless at the expense of her individuality. Sure, it was unhealthy, but she was used to it.

Eventually Vox's partnership with a certain moth man drove her away, but it was for the better... or for her it was. That's when she decided to work for the radio demon, a friend who taught her that she didn't need to create an image of herself for people to enjoy, just to be adored. She assisted him in his killings by broadcasting her songs and putting demons to sleep, so he could carry out his next step. He was more than capable of doing it all on his own but her assistance was appreciated.

She enjoyed it all. She enjoyed showing up to the studio, being greeted by the familiar sight of his wide, almost uncanny, smile everyday, but one day it was gone. He was gone. Genevieve's old habits returned and with it, some crippling abandonment issues, and she found herself crawling back to Vox.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oc #hazbin hotel original character #hazbin hotel overlord #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin hotel vox #hellaverse #hazbin alastor #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel art #hazbin art #oc #first post #i don't know how this works #help lol #genevieve greywater #the greywaters