#[this got DARK! definitely let me know if it doesn't work or you'd like something else!]

[storiedhistories]

@ichoric asked: “what have you done to yourself?” Melinoe @ kratos

More Random Dialogue Prompts // Accepting

He was covered in blood, his wife and daughter dead at his feet.  Blades dropped from nerveless fingers as Kratos let out an anguished cry, finally shocked out of his bloodlust. They weren't supposed to BE here; they were supposed to be home, safe in Sparta.

"How could you, Kratos?" Lysandra asked him, dead eyes staring up at him, even as her blood soaked the ground beneath his feet.  "Your own wife...., your own daughter...., did we mean nothing to you?  Was your ambition worth my life?  Worth Calliope's?"

And now his eyes went to the body of his child, taken from this world too soon, at the hands of the one person who should have protected her.

As he saw Calliope lying on the ground, he heard another voice break into his nightmare, the same nightmare he'd had more times than he could count.

"What have you done to yourself?" the voice asked, even as Kratos jerked out of sleep, upright in seconds, weapon in hand as he searched for the intruder.

It was only as he lowered the blades that he realized he had cut himself in the midst of his nightmare.  He stood, mvoing wordlessly across the room to bandage the injury to his leg, more than used to this sort of thing by now.

"It's nothing," was all he said, knowing that she would know there was more to what had happened than his words suggested.  The vision had likely come from her, after all.

[dhoranbolt]

You don't fool me

A/n: two thing- first this took me forever to write, I kept having to go back and scrap ideas 🥹 second, I did not know just how down bad I was for this man until I had to sit down and write this so.

Also friendly reminder- if your age isn't easily accessible on your profile I will not be tagging you! That said if you'd like a tag in future works let me know and I'll add you to the list!

bestie beta reader: @yukios-medic you are really the best ma'am I appreciate you so much 🥹💙💙💙

Pairing: Sukuna x fem!reader, Yuji pining

cw/tw: minors/ageless blogs DNI, all characters aged up, dub-con that becomes enthusiastic consent, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), oral sex (male receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, threats of killing

Word count: 5k (ish)

This wasn't the first time they'd been paired up and sent off to find and kill a curse, but it was the first time Yuji was weary of the whole thing. They were both strong, that wasn't an issue – he'd been on back-to-back missions for weeks and it was starting to take its toll, that was the issue.

Of course, it didn't help that whenever he was around her, Sukuna would become an even bigger pain in the ass (than he already was).

They'd been sent to a long-abandoned warehouse, falling apart as it was, and radiating with cursed energy. Yep, whatever it was they were after was definitely in here.

"Split up to cover more ground?" She suggested as she looked up at him, but he shook his head.

"We can probably exorcize it quicker if we come across it at the same time, we should just stick together for now." It was a simple enough explanation, not a hint of 'I'm pushing my limits just being here with you' or 'it's easier to know you're safe if you're by my side' detectable.

To her, at least. Yuji chooses to ignore the scoff that resonates in his head as they cautiously enter the building. They walk side-by-side down the hallway, ears and eyes analyzing every detail of their surroundings.

"Must be one pain in the ass curse to send the both of us. I can feel the cursed energy everywhere, I just can't tell exactly where the source is." She filled the silence, wringing her hands together nervously.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. It’s out there, but it's all about the same output. We'll just have to watch our backs." Yuji said with a nod.

"Hey, what do you think Nobara did when she found out Gojo canceled movie night to send us after this one? I can see her practically popping a vein." She laughed softly, moving around a stack of boxes to find any sign of their curse.

"Fushiguro is probably wishing it was you that got left behind right about now." Yuji guessed with a small chuckle, suppressing the thought that he might have wished for it, too. A faint gurgle sounded at the opposite end of the hall, cursed energy seeping into every corner of their bodies as it grew closer.

Yuji covered her mouth with his hand, keeping her scream muffled as he tugged her against his chest and pulled them into the shadows.

"Shh, I think I hear something." He murmurs, squinting in the darkness. He doesn't feel the mouth form on his hand, not until her lips are moving against his palm as she makes a noise.

She's gagging; trying to pry Yuji's hand off her face. And he's going to – until Sukuna's voice rings in his head.

'Pull away and I'll bite her tongue off. Try to keep her quiet while she's drowning in her own blood'

Yuji froze as Sukuna cackled, and she still struggled in his grip, now like iron to keep the curse from making good on his threat.

His name was muffled when she frantically tried to call it, but it only left her mouth open that much more for Sukuna to swipe his tongue along the inside.

If they could conceal their own cursed energy for just a second, then it would keep going on its path to the left of them, and probably wouldn't circle back around for a while. Yuji set his jaw, glaring up the hall as he spoke.

"Conceal your energy, then we'll deal with him. One curse at a time." The only confirmation she gave that she heard him was slightly loosening her grip on his arm.

The curse slunk away and Yuji held his breath, waiting to hear any sign of it coming back. When he was sure it wasn’t, he let out a sigh and threw his head back against the wall. Taking a moment to realize the situation they were still in he looked down at her.

He couldn’t see the blush in her cheeks, but he could feel the heat on his fingers. She shifted her body against his, letting out a whimper at the awkward kiss she was still locked in.

Yuji swallowed hard and took a deep breath. This was so not the time to be letting the sounds she was making go straight to his cock.

'You want her so badly, take her.' Sukuna taunted.

"No." Yuji snapped his response, trying to think of a way out of this (and the boner he was starting to sport against her back).

'Fuck her, brat. Or I'll kill her the next time I get the chance, and I'll draw it out while I make you watch.'

Sukuna knew well what he was doing, keeping this conversation in Yuji's head. She had no clue what he was trying to shield her from. Of course he wanted her, but not like this. Not when Sukuna was all but forcing his hand on the matter, not even giving her a choice.

“I said no! Knock it off!” Sukuna just chuckled, and she turned her head to look up at him with worry in her eyes.

'Or perhaps you’d like me to put us both out of commission. Tell me, just how long do you think she’d last against this curse on her own?'

Yuji’s heart dropped to his stomach. There’s no way Sukuna hated her enough to let her die like this, not with the way he found her so entertaining to him. Not with the way he currently had his tongue down the back of her throat- right?

'No, but if it would cause you everlasting turmoil, I’d jump at the chance.'

Could she ever forgive him for doing this? Would Sukuna even drop this after all was said and done?

Yuji was exhausted, and Sukuna knew it too. It was only a matter of time before he could slip out and swap places.

'I could always assist instead. After all, one wrong move and she’s on her own anyways. Go ahead brat, ask me for my help.' He grinned.

“No, last time I let you out you were a dick.” Yuji snapped, but he was running out of options here. How long until that curse realized where they were and turned back around? He could always make a deal with Sukuna, if he would agree to it was another question though.

At the sound of Yuji’s words her body tensed, blood running cold. There was no way Yuji was actually thinking about letting the king of curses out into the wild, especially when he already had her in this position.

'Tic-toc punk ass, this offer isn’t going to last forever.'

“Promise you won’t hurt her first.” Her eyes went wide and she began to struggle in his grasp again, body going hot. Screaming through his palm and Sukuna’s tongue as well as she could manage in protest.

There is no way he’s about to offer his body over to Sukuna right now, and all she could think about were all the previous times he’d spoken to her – though, at her might be a better word. Everything he’d said up to this point, his promises to absolutely wreck her- all came flooding back. Could they really not handle this job any other way than to bring Sukuna into the mix?

'You humans are so predictable, really fucking takes the fun out of everything. I’ll get rid of the curse. Just say you aren’t strong enough, you need a real man to do your dirty work for you.'

“That’s not-”

'Going once…'

“I don’t-”

'Going TWICE...'

“Fine! I need your help, please.” She was hysterical at this point, thrashing in his grip as much as she could, grinding her ass into him harder every time she moved.

'That doesn’t sound like what we agreed to, try again.'

Yuji groaned, thankful he could use that as an excuse to let out some of his frustrations.

“Sukuna please, I’m not strong enough and need a real man to do my dirty work for me.” Yuji bit out, and she stilled at his words, stomach knotting. Any minute now, Sukuna would be breathing down her neck. Months of sexual tension, mostly from his side - would it finally come to a head now? Or would he leave it and just get the job done, let Yuji take back over when it was safe–

A low chuckle rumbled from behind her, and the sound ran straight through her body to her core. She swallowed, realizing the tongue down her throat had finally disappeared.

Sukuna ran a hand up her chest before resting it on her throat.

“Well, well, this is certainly a turn of events, isn’t it?” She whimpered, frozen in place. What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Sukuna…” She breathed his name warily.

“Surprised to see me? I did tell you I’d have you some day. So, how was I? It’s been a few hundred years. You’ll have to excuse the fact I’m a little rusty.” Sukuna filled the silence, not waiting for an answer.

“You weren’t too bad yourself; I think I even felt you participating at the end. Care for more?” He whispered in her ear, tongue flicking out to lick her lobe. She bit back her moan, clamping her knees together as she gently rocked back into him. He laughed, moving his hands down her body to grip her hips and pull her in closer against him.

“Oh, don’t be shy now, it’s just us. The brat won’t even know, it can be our little secret.”

“I-” She stammered, face hot. So what if she’d gone back to her room at the end of a long day full of Sukuna teasing her, and closed her eyes while chanting his name under the sheets? So what if being the object of the king of curses’ endless teasing was what she used to push her over the edge some nights? That was all by her choice - she was in charge.

Currently having Sukuna’s painfully rock-hard cock prodding her ass while he held her tight against him? She was so clearly not in charge, and to make matters worse? The realization sent her core gushing.

“I can smell you,” he continued, taking in a long breath. And this time she couldn’t bite back her moan.

“Sukuna!” She gasped, feeling the blush run up her ears.

“I think you should really stop being such a cock-tease, woman. No wonder Yuji can’t help but fuck his fist most nights. I bet he can smell you too, he just spares your feelings by not saying anything.” The fog he’d brought with him was starting to clear, and she tried to pry his fingers off of her.

“Stop! You’re lying!” But Sukuna just threw his head back in a cackle.

“I actually don’t care if you believe me, do you want to know why?” He stepped out from behind her so quickly, shoving her back against the wall, it made her head spin. Looking up at his tattooed face and red eyes only solidified how real this situation was for her - and her mouth went dry. He grinned down at her, gripping her chin to hold her in place.

“I’m going to fuck you through this wall. You won’t be able to look at that stupid brat without thinking of me inside you ever again. And he’ll never know because he’s out cold.” Using his free hand, he ripped off her skirt. She cried out, trying to grip his wrist and stop her panties from meeting the same fate.

“Aww, still shy, are we?” He teased as he examined the red lace, running his fingers down to the ever-growing wet spot on them.

“N-No!” Sukuna just chuckled, watching her face morph from flustered to pleasure at his touch.

“And look, you even wore red just for me. How cute of you.” She moaned, closing her eyes. The physical and mental teasing was too much. If he wasn’t going to kill her, she was going to die of embarrassment. He sucked his teeth, hooking his thumb into her mouth and tugging her face.

“Look at me while I touch you, I won’t tell you twice.” He snapped, and her heart thrummed in her chest. It felt so good to finally have him touch her after all this time, she’d forgotten just how dangerous he was in the moment. She nodded sheepishly.

“Good, you listen well for a sorcerer. I don’t believe in praising those beneath me, but I think I’ll make an exception just this once.” He pressed his fingers against her core, watching the way she squirmed under him.

“You’re so wet already and I’ve barely touched you, was my tongue down your throat just what you needed?” Her head was spinning, his hold on her jaw rough, but all she could picture was wrapping her lips around him.

She slid her tongue around his thumb cautiously, watching his reaction for any sign that she’d miss-stepped.

He groaned, smirking down at her as he leaned closer.

“And here you’d have everyone believing you’re too innocent for such filthy things.” Finding the edge of her panties, he pushed them aside, running his fingers through her slick folds. He watched as she moaned, satisfaction settling on his face as the moan grew louder when he pushed a finger inside of her.

“God you’re so tight, there’s no way that brat could stuff his cock in you.” Her walls flexed at his words. Sukuna’s one finger was already so thick, and now her mind was swimming with the thought of having more.

“But don’t worry, you’ll take it from me.” And then she felt a second finger at her entrance, making her eyes open wider. She tried to speak as best she could around the awkward hold he still had her in, but it didn’t matter.

“Suku-na!” She cried out as he forced another finger into her.

“I’d be thanking me if I were you. I’m feeling generous enough to stretch you out before I ram my cock into your stomach.” He offered, grinning as he watched her try and hold herself together.

He didn’t wait for her to adjust to the feeling, why would he? Fucking her open on him was all he could think about while he sat bored on his throne - not that he was admitting it aloud.

So many days, weeks, months, of him wrapped up in her. He knew exactly what she was doing to him, even if she didn’t.

“Was it worth it to parade around like a whore in heat around us?” He asked as he began to slide his fingers in and out of her.

“You know I offered him the chance to have you first. Humans and their virtues though, so fickle. Of course, the brat couldn’t do this.” He pressed his palm against her cunt, and her back arched off the wall as his tongue shot out to flatten on her clit.

Letting go of her chin he wrapped his hand around her neck, giving it a testing squeeze before trailing down to her chest. Groping over her top, and then easily ripping the buttons away.

“Not my clothes!” She protested, but if he heard, he ignored her. Choosing instead to knead her breast as it spilled over her matching bra. Sukuna chuckled, looking back at her.

“The matching set, I’m starting to think you really did wear this just for me. Is that what you do? Under all those clothes you put on, you wear red hoping I’ll catch a glimpse. Hoping I’ll come out to rip it off of you.” He spoke as he rolled her bud roughly between his fingertips.

“God!” She cried out. He was everywhere. Pumping his fingers further inside her walls, tongue abusing her clit-

“I’ll be your god.” He hissed, before leaning down to suck her nipple into his mouth.

She was fast approaching the edge, gasping for air as he shot her towards her peak.

He curled his fingers inside of her, reaching a new angle that sent white hot pleasure shooting through her body.

“Sukuna!” She choked out, reaching up to ball her hands into his top. She was wary of touching him at first, opting to press against the wall instead. But it was all too much. She needed something more to try and ground herself through the first orgasm he was going to rip from her body.

“You gonna cum, little sorcerer?” He hummed around a mouthful of her breast, looking up at her expectantly. She already looked so cute and fucked out for him; grinding into his hand to push him further inside, face flushed as she whimpered his name over, brows pinched up while she looked down to him with a breathless nod.

“Please Sukuna...” If he wasn’t so pent up himself, he might have stopped what he was doing, but edging her would only edge him, and he had no interest in prolonging his own pleasure any more than being stuck in the passenger seat of his vessel already had.

For this encounter, anyways. So, he gave her what she wanted, driving his fingers faster into her cunt, biting down on the nipple currently still in his mouth, while his other hand roughly pinched at the other.

He could feel how close she was. It was getting harder to slide his fingers back into her, and he couldn’t wait to sink into her.

When he didn’t slow down or stop, she took it as permission, though, the tip of the iceberg was so close that even if he had told her no, she wasn’t sure she could have stopped, anyway.

It crashed over her in waves, throwing her against the wall as she cried out his name. Everything was gone - her sight, her hearing, all she could do was ride against his hand, and hope that their grasp on each other was enough to keep her standing through the intensity of it all.

Even when her high started to ebb away, he was still lazily pumping his fingers inside of her. Slowly the world came back to her, heartbeat pounding in her ears, and she whined.

“Aww, is someone sensitive?” He pulled away from her chest with a grin, red eyes glinting as he stared down at her dazed expression. She weakly pushed against his chest, trying to get him to stop while she regained some semblance of normal breathing.

“Sukuna…”

“Well, aren’t you going to thank me?” She swallowed hard, still trying to find her way out of the haze.

“I- thank you...” He pulled his fingers out of her, chuckling at the whimper that left her lips. Raising his hand to his mouth, he kept his eyes on her as he sucked his fingers clean.

“Mmm, I don’t think so.”

“What?” Confusion crossed her face, and he pressed the same two fingers against her parted lips, looking on in admiration as she opened them without question. Sukuna pressed his fingers against her tongue, pulling her mouth open as he did.

“Those red panties you’re wearing will be sufficient.”

“What?” The word left her mouth again, and he raised an eyebrow, dragging his fingers down her tongue and out of her mouth. She stared at him for only a second more before leaning down to slide them off her hips. She looked down to keep from fumbling, but he hooked his finger under her chin, tilting her face back up to him.

“I didn’t say you could look away.” She bit her lip, shimmying awkwardly to slide them down her knees. Stepping one foot out of them at a time, she began to lift them up. He grabbed them from her, large fingers brushing her own as he did.

She moved to stand up again, but he stopped her, shaking his head.

“On second thought, I don’t think one pair of panties is worth a mind-numbing orgasm, do you?” But it wasn’t really a question, not when he was already guiding her to her knees in front of him. The floor below her was cold - a shock that her core, still radiating heat, could feel.

“Be a good girl and open wide,” he said, reaching into his pants to take hold of his neglected cock. Pulling it out, he ran his thumb over the tip, smearing his precum up and down his length.

Sukuna groaned, gritting his teeth. The brat could imagine all he wanted; it would never compare to having her right here in front of him. Small hands braced on his thighs, eyes blown wide as she took in just how fucked she was about to be.

“See something you like?” Her breath hitched as he knocked his fat tip against her bottom lip. She slowly opened her mouth, tongue sliding out and against the underside of his cock. He groaned again, grabbing the back of her head as he forced himself into her mouth.

She dug her nails into his thighs as he did, trying in vain to pull her head back so she could breathe.

“You’re not acting very grateful. Don’t make me fuck your throat, I’ll end up hurting your feelings.” He chuckled. Tears were already welling in her eyes as she choked on what he could fit in her mouth. Slowly, she removed a hand off from his thigh, reaching down to run her fingers through her folds. When she’d gathered enough of her release, she reached back up to pump the rest of him with it.

“How resourceful of you. Makes me want to fuck my cock down your throat all the more.” She moaned around his length, gently rocking him as far as she could take him. Part of her was screaming for air, the other wanted to make him feel just as good as he’d made her feel moments ago. The fog was back, and she blinked the tears away as she looked up at him.

His jaw was tense, one hand still at the back of her head, the other balled in a fist and braced against the wall. Before this she’d only seen him when he was a mouth and one eye, stirring up chaos on Yuji’s cheek. Looking up at him now, though, red eyes trained on her and black markings all over his body - he was breathtaking.

All-powerful and terrifying as hell, considering that he could kill her in an instant, but breathtaking, nonetheless. She let her other hand slide down his leg to rest between her own, pressing her fingers into herself - only to whine in disappointment when it felt nothing like him.

“Needy little thing, aren’t you? I’ve gone hundreds of years without, and you just can’t wait for another.” She breathed hard through her nose, trying to take in as much air as she could before he hit the back of her throat again. Black dots buzzed at the corners of her vision, the sound of her choking on what she could take echoed through the hall.

Her jaw was pried open at a painful angle to accommodate him, and he wasn’t showing any signs of stopping. Her grasp on his cock grew slack, and she wasn’t fighting him every time he knocked his tip just a little further into her mouth. Her own fingers stilled in her aching walls, eyelids fighting to stay open.

Sukuna huffed, sliding his hand around to smack at her cheek.

“Don’t go passing out on me now, I’m not finished with you just yet.” And he pulled out of her mouth with a loud squelch as she gasped for air. The lightheaded feeling slowly dissipated as she looked up at him, tears and spit covering her face.

“You did okay. For now. We’ll revisit that later, get up.” She didn’t have to be told twice, rising on wobbly legs as quickly as she could. The thought occurred to her, that she was practically naked in front of him, while he was still fully clothed. She swallowed hard, trying to wipe away some of the shame along with the tears.

But he didn’t give her much time to wallow in her self-pity, quickly turning her around and pinning her to the cool wall. She shivered at the feeling of his solid body pressed into her back, erection still wet with her spit as it bounced on her bare ass.

“Maybe next time, I’ll let you look at me while I fuck you.” He breathed down her neck, grabbing his length and rubbing it through her folds. She dug her nails into the wall; he barely fit her mouth, there was no way she was ready–

“Relax, I’m not interested in breaking you the first time around. It would ruin the fun in watching you look at me in anticipation every time you’re around.” And he wasn’t wrong. Hell, he was still here, and the anticipation was coursing through her. Taking a slow breath she waited, thankful that the cool wall was enough to ease the heat on her face.

Sukuna gripped her hip and hooked his tip at her entrance before pushing in. She gritted her teeth, moaning at the already over-full feeling. For the situation being what it was, he was fairly gentle as he steadily eased himself through her tight walls with a prolonged hiss. She could only stay pressed against the wall, jaw dropped in a silent moan as he filled her out inch by agonizing inch. Her eyes rolled, body unsure if she should cry out in pleasure or pain.

“God look at you, practically foaming at the mouth. What would your sorcerers say if they caught you like this, hmm?” He groaned, bucking his hips up into hers. Her voice finally caught up to her, and she cried out, nails scraping down the wall as she clawed for anything to keep her grounded.

He didn’t quite fit all the way, but it only turned Sukuna on even more. Of course, he couldn’t fit - but he would. He would break her open on his cock as many times as he needed, until she fit him like a second skin. Until he was the only thing she could think about whenever she tried to seek pleasure elsewhere.

She was playing a game she had no clue about, and Sukuna was going to win. He laughed as he grabbed her hips, pulling out to slam back into her walls. They sucked him in and tried to keep him out all at the same time.

“Sukuna, fuck!” She moaned, reaching behind her to slow him down. He said he wasn’t going to break her, but the rough pace he’d set was literally fucking the air right out of her lungs. Her walls squeezed him tighter, and he moaned.

“Too much for you already, princess? I’m just getting started.” Sukuna grabbed her wrists, pinning them above her head.

“Too much, fuck, ‘s too much!”

“I’m not that brat, you’ll take what I give you exactly how I give it to you. Don’t piss me off, I’m in such a giving mood, right now!” He snaked his other hand around her, tongue darting out to swirl around her clit. Sukuna grinned. In an attempt to get away, she only managed to shove herself further onto his cock.

“Sukuna please, I don’t…Please!”

“Short circuiting, and I’m not even close yet. Shall we see just how many times I can make you cry before I’m finally satisfied?” Her mind was melting, she didn’t care anymore. What was she even begging for? Him to stop? Or maybe she was begging him not to stop. She’d never been filled up like this before; even the pain was pleasurable now. All she could do was stand against this wall and take it, anyway. Her body relaxed against him slightly, and he grinned.

“Is there something you want from me, little sorcerer?” She bit her wobbly lip hard, trying to focus on his words.

“I want- I wanna cum.”

“That so?” She nodded with a whimper.

“Beg, and I’ll think about it.” She couldn’t even be bothered with the feelings of shame looming overhead. She wanted one thing, and if begging was all she needed to do to achieve it, well…

“Please I wanna cum.” She whined, hands flexing in his grasp.

“Beg more, you can do better than that.”

“Please Sukuna please I wanna cum, never wanted to cum so bad. Please make me cum on your cock please I-” She was a wailing mess, she didn’t care who heard her pleas, only that he might answer them. His tongue licked at her folds, snaking around his length to tease her from every side.

He rocked her into her second orgasm, reveling in the feeling of her tightening around him as she screamed.

God, he needed to feel it again. The way her walls fluttered around his thickness, trying to close around the strain of taking him. The feeling was maddening, and Sukuna was sure he could pull another one from her immediately, he just needed to pick up the pace as he rammed his cock harder into her.

The wet sound of his second mouth lapping at her, mixed with her moaning variations of his name and ‘fuck don’t stop’ was more than enough to catch the attention of anyone close by, and as absorbed as Sukuna was in this little game, he wouldn’t let his guard down. He was sure she didn’t even remember what they were here for anymore at this point. If the whites of her rolled eyes and the drool currently sliding down the wall where her face was pressed against it were any indication, anyway.

He could feel her whole body start to twitch and tighten, and he knew she was close again. Two orgasms in, and he knew her body so well already. He’d put that knowledge to good use later.

“Go ahead little sorcerer, scream for me.” And she came hard, walls clamping down on him, practically shoving him out while she did. It was enough to send him reeling, too. Hips slamming up into her, he sank his teeth into her shoulder as he finished with a growl. If they weren’t both so wrapped up in each other, they might have realized he growled ‘mine.’ He painted her insides in white hot ropes, stilling when the euphoria finished washing over him.

“If you think that was mind-numbing, just wait until I get ahold of you in my true form.” Sukuna whispered against the shell of her ear.

He pulled out with a groan, watching her whole body quiver as he did.

“Clean yourself up.” She finally looked back at him, brows knit. He ripped the sleeve off his jacket, handing it over to her. When she tried to pull it, his grip tightened, and he looked at her expectantly.

“Thank you…” She said quietly as she cleared her throat.

“Such a good girl for me already, I don’t even have to train you. I’ll be back, be ready to leave when I am.”

“Wait where-”

“There’s still a job to do here, isn’t there? I’ve got a curse to kill.” He smirked as he walked backwards up the hall.

Yuji wouldn’t be awake for a while, plenty of time for Sukuna to hide his prize. One of the many he planned on taking from her, he thought as he twirled the red panties on his finger.

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[kyemna]

Hazbin Hotel headcanons

TW: Mentions of sex and alcohol. some suggestive themes that's it, it's mostly just fluff.

(English isn't my first language)

Charlie

-Will do anything for you.

-you want flowers? Done. You saw a cute stuffed animal in the store front and you want it? You got it. Somebody harassed you on the streets and you want them punished? Let her take care of it. Normally she's against violence, but when it comes to protecting you? She'll do anything.

-will sing to you, all the time

-made a special song that she sings to you when you've had a bad day

-the best listener ever.

-will sit and listen to you talk for hours

-if she needs to get to work early, she'll make you breakfast and leave you a note that says something like:

-hi, good morning lovely! I hope you sleep well.

I had to leave early.. something happened at the hotel while Alastor was away, and they needed me.

See you 2night, i love you:)<3

-i think her love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation

Angel Dust

-whisper's provocative things to you during meetings

-definitely a physical touch kind of guy.

-Will cling to you at the most random times

-keeps Valentino as far away from you as possible.

-tries his best to keep his relationships hidden from him as well

-if you'd come home after a long day, he'd give you a massage

-is super funny, tell me otherwise.

-has a high sex drive, and is pretty kinky due to his job.

-so expect him to ring you up at the most unexpected times.

-PS. Don't put him on speaker when you're in public..

Vaggie

-was pretty cautious around you in the beginning, but slowly warms up to you

-once she's comfortable, she tells the wildest stories and acts them out for you

-if you don't know how to fight, she'll teach you

-if you do know how to fight, you guys spar all the time

-jealousy issues, and you can't tell me other wise.

-she hears someone talk to you in a tone she doesn't like? Glare. Someone low-key flirting with you? Glare. If looks could kill.. she will actually kill them though, so..

-not super experienced in bed, but she's open to suggestions

-once she finds something she likes/is comfortable with, she askes you for it all the time

-a "words of affirmation" and "acts of service" girl for sure

Alastor

(i am perfectly aware he's ace, but these are scenario's for if he wasn't, don't come for me)

-now, Alastor is a great dancer.

-he has great music taste too!

-listens to 1940's and below.

-i think he's mostly into Jazz and Classical music to be honest

-i do think Amy Winehouse and Dave Brubeck are his exceptions when it comes to listening to 1950's and above

-somehow always knows where you are..? You often see his shadows follow you, so that's probably why

-kills for you. Also because he has a thirst for blood, that needs to be satisfied. So that's 2 birds with one stone

-holds doors open for you

-just a general gentleman

-loves it when you wear dark red, dark blue and dark green

-it can be anything. Lipstick (just red though), a hat, a dress, heels, etc.

-expects you to respect his personal space but doesn't respect yours LMFAO

-gift giving and physical touch

Husk

-knows all your favorite drinks

-loves to dance with you

-also a Jazz person, but I don't think he'd mind country music to be honest

-once he secretly took a picture of you.

-he thought you looked so good, he keeps it in his nightstand.

-doesn't really talk about his problems/feelings, but prefers it if you do.

-respects your boundaries more than anyone.

-you don't wanna talk? He'll kiss your forehead, and leave you alone.

-you don't really like being touched? He'll always ask first.

-other than making amazing alcoholic drinks, he makes great coffee too!

-quality time and physical touch.

It's been quite a while since i've written something, so I apologize if there's any grammar mistakes or sentences that just don't make any sense LOL

Thank you for reading!

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

Time of the month

Eddie Munson x reader

Summary: You started your period, and Eddie tries to help.

Warnings: fluff, menstruation, mention of sex.

A/n: Not proofread. no minors allowed.

The front door slamming startles you in your spot, huddled in various blankets and pillows. Eddie scans the dark living room in search of you until his eyes land on your figure. There you were hidden beneath all sorts of fluffy blankets with the ever curtain closed.

He laughs to himself, "Hey sweetheart, I'm home."

You look over to him, faking a smile. "Hi."

Eddie frowns." What's wrong? "

"Got my period." You murmured.

He pouts out his bottom lip, moving closer, sitting next to you. "Anything I can do?"

You shake your head no, leaning over to lay your head on his chest. Immediately, Eddie wrapped his arms around you.

"I heard sex can be the cure." He half joked.

You groaned, hiding your face. "Eddie!"

He lets out a belly laugh and moves to stand bending down to give you a quick kiss. He kicked off his boots and placed them by the door.

"M'just playin." He smirked.

"No, you weren't." You pouted.

His smirks grew wider as he watched you."Yeah, you're right, doesn't hurt to try."

If you weren't in the state you are right now, he'd call you cute, but he knows better.

"You sure? I can really pound those cramps outta ya." He joked again, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

All you could was groan at his attempt to make you laugh.

Eddie is in a playful mood, and you were absolutely not. Your cramps had you hunching over in pain. You went through three pairs of panties after bleeding through them by accident. The last thing on your mind is sex. You know he's really just joking deep down, but the thought makes you wince a little. You've been in the same position all day. Huddled under numerous blankets you could find with a heating pad on standby.

He puts his hands on his hips, looking around his trailer. You could tell he's trying to come up with a solution to your problem. Unfortunately, the only solution is dealing with it for four days until it's gone.

Eddies' coveralls were covered in grease from the dirty cars he'd been fixing all day. You could see some of the grease smudged on his neck and face. His five o'clock shadow thickening up around his jaw. If it wasn't for your period, you'd definitely would take him up on his offer. You always thought he looked good on a daily basis. But there was something about how he looked after coming home from a long day at work that made you want to jump on him.

"Wanna take a shower with me?" Eddie spoke softly.

Your face softened, and the pout that was close to being permanent on your face disappeared. "Yea."

"After we clean up, I'm gonna order out and rub your back. You like that?" Eddie walked over to help you stand. Taking your hands into his.

"Mmhmm--id like that a lot, but you don't have to." You tried to argue feeling slightly guilty.

A back rub sounded like heaven, but he's been at work all day. The last thing he should be doing is waiting on your hand and foot. You were perfectly fine resuming what you've been doing all day anyway.

"Ah, ah, don't start. Let me help make you feel better." His tone is gentle, but his face was serious. You knew there was no arguing your way out of this.

"Okay, can we rent a movie too?" You sighed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug.

"Of course, whatever you want." Eddie squeezed you tighter to him.

He leads you to the shower and helps you undress. You asked him about his day loving how worked up he got at his coworkers sometimes. Eddie told about how some guy came in for an oil change that ended up lasting hours since the poor man had never had one before. You washed his hair, running your nails through his scalp. He hummed every time you did that for him. You swore if he was a cat, he'd be purring right now.

"All done?" Eddie asked, moving around to block the water from hitting your face.

"All done." You smiled, playfully tugging on his chin, causing him to giggle.

"Let's get you warmed, and then I'll make you feel better for a little while." He whispered.

Eddie did as he promised. He fed you. Warmed you up in his arms as you cuddled in his lap. He rented you The Princess Bride to watch. When the movie was over, Eddie guided you to the bedroom where he rubbed your back until you finally fell asleep.

"I love you." He bent over to kiss your cheek.

"Love you too." You muffled in your pillow. You were relaxed and your cramps subsiding. Sleep overtaking your exhausted body.

[sharksnshakes]

Hi I'm doing this on anon bcs I'm embarassed of how fast i'm asking this lmao butttttttt

...will you write a part two to the tim drake x reader?

PLS I BEG

You have a crush on Tim... and to your surprise, getting his attention won't be nearly as hard as you thought. But he keeps reminding you of Red Robin? That can't be right.

AN; part one can be found here. not sure where i'm going with this yet BUT expect a part three. and maybe something else with kon. in my titans era

Wordcount; 1.1k

TW; some cursing, mentions of drinking, making out (you'll see)

As luck would have it, you're at the same hole-in-the-wall bar the next weekend. Red Robin sighting aside, cheap drinks are cheap drinks, and now you're crowded around a rickety table with the same friends as last time. Plus Tim.

A week's worth of deliberation has lead you to the conclusion that you have honest to God romantic feelings for him. Sure, Red Robin turned your head, but chances are slim to none that you'll ever see the dark haired vigilante again. Even if you did, you know nothing about his personal life! You don't even know his name! How could a relationship possibly work out?

You're doubling down your efforts, which is why you're wedged up against Tim's side, nursing a cool drink in your hands and refusing to feel bashful about the outfit you've got on tonight. Tim never goes out, ergo, he's only ever seen you in the baggy sweats and oversized tees you show up to lecture in. It's the perfect opportunity for you to dress up and flaunt your assets. If it worked on Robin, it'll work on Tim.

Right?

"Havin' fun?" You ask, glancing over at him.

Tim looks out of place, to put it mildly. He is the heir to Wayne Enterprises, after all, and you love him dearly, but his vintage sneakers and expensive-smelling cologne don't exactly fit in with the sweaty crowd of coeds.

"I think so?"

You smother a laugh. "Hey, at least you're not holed up in your apartment cramming for another test."

Tim frowns gently. "Yeah. You're right."

It feels like his comment holds some second meaning that's flying right over your head. You'd ask him about it, but before you get the chance, one of your mutual friends is grabbing you both by the wrists and dragging you into the makeshift dance floor.

After about fifteen minutes of bouncing and singing and laughing, the fragrant smoke and crush of bodies start to get to you. The music's pounding. The air is heavy. You squeeze your eyes shut, willing the uncomfortable, oppressive feeling away.

"Hey." Tim appears at your side. He's got a steadying hand on your shoulder and his lips are practically on your ear. "Y'okay?"

If you weren't short of breath before, you definitely are now.

"Need some air," you shout back, fighting to be heard over the speakers. "I'll be back in a minute."

Tim's hand stays on your shoulder. "Let me come with you."

You want to tell him he doesn't have to. This is his first night out in ages, and the last thing you want to do is throw a wrench in it by dragging him outside; when you look at his face, though, there's genuine concern and care in his eyes. You nod.

"Lead the way," Tim shouts, and you reach for his hand as you push through the crowd. His fingers wrap firmly around yours, steady but not overbearing, and a horde of butterflies descend on your stomach.

Tim doesn't drop your hand until you're outside, sucking in the nighttime air. It's sticky and humid outside, a thunderstorm can be heard in the distance, but it's heavenly compared to inside.

You pace up and down the alleyway for a moment. Just like last week, there's nobody out here but you and the dumpster. And Tim.

Involuntarily, you glance up at the rooftops that loom above.

"I saw Red Robin here last week," you say absentmindedly, turning back to look at Tim.

"Oh really?" He clears his throat, following your gaze. "Was he, like... up there?"

"You don't seem particularly excited."

"Well, I mean... it's just Red Robin?"

You gape at him. "Just Red Robin? Tim, he's cool as fuck."

"He's literally just another Robin. There's been, what, like... five?"

"Three," you correct, walking back over to Tim, "And he's literally a superhero."

"Sidekick."

You laugh out loud. "What, you got beef with him?"

"No," Tim protests, a flush crawling up his cheeks. "He's just no Batman, is all."

"He's not supposed to be Batman. That's his whole thing. He's Robin, and he's cool as fuck," you reply, leaving no room for argument. You lean against the brick wall, gazing up at the clouded sky. "...Think he's out there somewhere?"

"Maybe."

You glance at Tim, but he's already staring at you.

"You look... really pretty tonight," he murmurs.

Your cheeks prickle with heat. "Thanks. You, ah, look good too."

At that moment, it hits you that you're alone with Tim Drake Wayne, the guy you're pining over, and that he's just called you pretty. A smile tugs as your lips. Red Robin hit on you in this very alleyway, and now Tim is hitting on you, too, and your confidence surges.

"Um, actually," you say, looking at Tim, "There's something I've been meaning to tell you--"

BANG!

A gasp dies in your throat as a couple stumbles through the back door. They're attached at the lips and deserving of an NC-17 rating. Your shock is quickly replaced with amusement (and, albeit, a healthy level of disgust) and you laugh in shock, your heart still pounding in your throat. The door rattles on its hinges, freshly scraped up from being slammed against the wall.

"Holy shit," you exhale. Only then do you notice that Tim pushed you behind him: an arm is protectively flung out in front of you, the other hand is pulling something out of his pocket. His thumb and forefinger are pinched around a small, sharp-looking object--it's black, it glints in the light, you don't know what it is. He stuffs it back into his jeans, huffing out a sigh of relief.

"Hey, you okay?" Tim asks, turning back around to face you.

"Fine." You nod. "Startled... but, uh, fine."

"Good," he says, eyes still tracking the couple. "Anyways. You were saying?"

There's a muffled moan from the other end of the alley.

"Another time," you say, grabbing Tim and pulling him inside before either of you see more than you want to.

As you rejoin the group, you wonder distantly what he was holding. A knife, maybe? But Tim's dead last on your list of people who'd walk around Gotham carrying a weapon. Then again, his net worth is staggeringly high, so maybe he does carry something...?

If you didn't know better, you'd say he acted like a vigilante.

You're not sure what to think.

But the bar's loud music leaves no room for thought, and you push your musings to the back of your mind. You're having fun with your friends, Tim called you pretty, and you just had the shit scared out of you by strangers--tonight's been eventful as is, so it looks like your detective work will just have to wait.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Your writing just got me hooked on criminal minds so can you do something with badass!reader and something related to how Spencer deals with her closing herself off because she jus doesn’t know how to be emotionally vulnerable? I can’t think of a specific situation but I trust ur talent 🫶🏼

ty! ♡ fem, 1k

Spencer can't see your face when you curl away like this. You've turned your head to the window, your arm wrapped around your waist and your shoulder in no danger of touching his. 

Despite this, he knows you want him near you. You'd pulled him aside casually before entering the jet to ask if he'd sit with you. So, you can continue your slouched cold shoulder if you like, but Spencer's confident that you don't mean it personally, he won't take it that way. 

It was a kid, this time. Whenever the BAU fails to pull through and a child dies, you take it hard, as does everyone else. The only difference with you is that if it were any other situation, you'd soldier through, pretending that it didn't hurt you. When cases like this happen you don't bother pretending.

You're taking it especially hard, perhaps because you were reprimanded. You edged your way into somewhere you shouldn't have and accused the wrong man. Spencer doesn't know what Hotch said to you to wound you this deeply, but he can imagine it was something along the lines of forsaking your hot-headedness. Spencer knows from personal experience that it's going to stick around, a what if like cancer in your head that grows and grows. What if Hotch was right? And what if your bad decision was the weight that tipped the scale out of favour? 

He makes sure that no one can listen before he leans in toward you. "You okay?" he asks quietly. 

"I'm fine," you say, shrugging without looking away from the window.

He checks behind him. Hotch is in the kitchenette, a cup of coffee and a case file balanced in one hand, a tea kettle in the other. Morgan lays across the couch with Emily in the chair adjacent, reading. JJ texts to Spencer's right. She can definitely hear everything he's about to say, but he'll get over it. 

"You remember when he yelled at me in Tennessee?" he asks. "In front of the team? I thought he'd be mad at me for weeks, but–" 

"It's not Hotch I'm thinking about." You lean back in your chair properly, tipping your chin up. You look as though you've swallowed something sharp. 

"I know," Spencer says. He digs through his messenger bag for the drink he bought before take off, a half litre of your favourite. 

He presses it into your hand. 

"I'm okay," you say, taking it. You weigh it back and forth, the liquid sloshing heavily, your eyes tracking the wave.

"Just drink it. It'll help your headache." 

You unscrew the cap of your drink. "How did you know I have a headache?" you ask between little sips. 

Spencer just knew. Same way he knows you don't want to talk about the case, no matter how badly you need to. 

Your hand lays restless on your thigh, twitching like you're in the midst of a bad dream. The jet is dim but not dark, the lines and valleys of your face gently shadowed. He knows he could kiss your cheek and cheer you up if he had the courage. He thinks about it until he goes half mad. 

"I wish I was like you," he murmurs. "I know it doesn't always work out, but you're not afraid to mess up. That's a good thing." 

You turn your cheek into the chair. For the first time in hours, he can see all of you. Your shoulders relax, your eyelids slightly droopy. 

"Maybe I'd mess up less if I weren't," you say. 

"But you do more good taking a chance on things than bad." Spencer can't summon the courage to kiss your cheek, but he can take your unhappy hand into his. 

You close your eyes. Tentative, Spencer presses the back of your hand to the front of his, drawing half circles into your palm. You let him do it for long, slow minutes, nothing but the hum of the engine and his skin brushing yours. 

When your lip wobbles, he curls his hand closed around yours. 

You aren't upset about Hotch, he knows that. You're upset about something they couldn't change, because they weren't fast enough. It's a team failing that you've taken onto your shoulders, and it isn't right. Spencer gives the plane one last look before he darts forward. He stops short, his face next to yours, and sighs. 

You turn away from him before he can kiss your cheek. 

You've never had a problem bragging about how much you like Spencer. When somebody tells him to stop talking, you listen. When others roll their eyes, you smile and poke at his sides teasingly. Usually, you'd let him kiss you. He grits his teeth and buckles up. If you can't be vulnerable, he can be twice; failed kisses don't bother him if it's in an attempt to cheer you up.  

"What can I do?" he asks, pulling your joined hands to his chest. 

"Nothing. Sorry. Nothing, I'm fine." 

"Can we please work on the assumption that you're not fine? And that I'm here?" 

You frown at him. Slowly, your frown turns to a less horrifying impassiveness, and not long after that you're pressing your cheek to his shoulder. 

"Can we not talk? Would that be okay?" you whisper. 

"Sure. Of course it is." 

You nod gratefully into his arm. He lets his nose sink into the top of your head, not giving much thought to how uncomfortable it is. His arm comes up to stroke yours, but when JJ stands he drops it. 

"Thank you, Spencer," you murmur. 

"You're welcome. Now be quiet." 

He can feel the shape of your smile against his arm, small but real. 

[yokohamapound]

Hi bestie! Great to find a new BSD blog! For starters, can we have some hcs on what kind of lingerie Dazai, Chuuya, Ranpo, Akutagawa and Fyodor would buy their fem!s/o? ;)

Hey, I hope you enjoy these!

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Nakahara Chuuya, Edogawa Ranpo, Akutagawa Ryuunosuke, Fyodor Dostoevsky

Warnings: NSFW, lingerie

Dazai Osamu

This man is what we like to call an omniwhore. If it's on your body, he's interested in getting it off and getting you off.

Dazai's stated himself that he has quite wide-ranging tastes, so it's highly likely he'll just buy you something you'd feel sexy in, but if he had completely free reign...?

His tastes are pretty classic. He'd probably go for something black, with lace. He likes how it feels, warmed by your skin, against his hands, his tongue...

That being said, you don't need to buy anything expensive to seduce him. You could be lounging around in one of his shirts and a pair of thigh-highs and that would count as lingerie to him.

Dazai is someone who likes seeing his s/o wear his clothes, especially in a dishevelled, just-got-fucked kind of way.

Nakahara Chuuya

Chuuya's favourite colours seem to be black and red, which isn't a surprise coming from anyone in the Port Mafia. Chuuya leans towards an edgy, femme/homme fatale style if he's choosing lingerie for his lover.

Think bustiers, garters, body harnesses, edging into bondage chic, I guess you could say. These are his tastes and you don't have to subscribe to them, but if you do he'll be shoving you into closets, back seats of cars, his personal office, the club bathroom. Pretty much anywhere he can get you alone and start ripping off buttons.

There's a certain part of your body, and anything that brings his attention to it is enough to get Chuuya raring to go.

Thighs.

Stockings are great, but those little harnesses or garters that go around your thigh get him bricked up like an 18th Century window.

If you're feeling cheeky, you can lift up the hem of a skirt or let him see the outline of it under your pants. Man is gripping the edge of the table.

"You're killin' me with these, dollface."

Edogawa Ranpo

You know those candy thongs?

Jokes aside, I feel like Ranpo doesn't buy you straight-up lingerie as much as he occasionally grabs a little costume for you. Straight-up sex is probably kinda boring, even if it feels good, so why not have some fun with roleplay?

You could be a cute little nurse and he's the world's greatest detective.

Or you're a cute little maid, and he's the world's greatest detective!

These aren't cheap costumes, though—he'll get you some nice, high quality stuff and not those itchy, shiny polyester things from Shein.

If he does buy you underwear, it has cute prints and colours. I feel like he likes stripes, pastel ones. Pinks and blues and soft yellows, because it lowkey reminds him of candy wrappers.

However, one time he did just bring you a bag from the grocery store.

"Ranpo, why is there a can of whipped cream?"

Akutagawa Ryuunosuke

Okay, do not send Akutagawa into a lingerie store because he will panic and he will destroy the store with Rashoumon. At first he will be highly dismissive of buying you underwear—are you not capable of buying it yourself?

Give him time to come around to the idea that he can choose what he sees on your body, the intimate garments that are going to hug your skin under your clothes, for his eyes only. Then he gets it.

Akutagawa's taste definitely runs to dark fabrics: deep burgundies, black, of course, deep purples and emerald greens if he's branching out a bit. Lace and frills, but also a touch of leather and metal. You can't take the Port Mafia out of the boy, after all.

I don't know if this is a Port Mafia-induced kink but he also likes body harnesses. The straps against your skin, especially if they're cinched a little tight against your soft flesh, remind him of when he binds you in Rashoumon and spreads you out underneath him.

This works with normal outfits too, actually. If you wear something floaty with a body harness underneath, and he sees it? Especially when you're out in public or on the job?

There's gonna be a whole different kind of screaming coming from that dark alleyway.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

I'm hardly original in thinking this, but Fyodor would strikes me as the type to lean toward something clean, pure. Angelic, one might say.

White is very common, especially delicate fabrics like lace and silk. Fyodor likes to get his cold hands on you, to feel you shiver at his touch, and the contrast between warm, soft skin and cool, slippery silk pleases him.

The sight of your legs sheathed in pretty white stockings, lace clinging precariously to your upper thighs—that's a temptation he struggles to resist, especially when you sit on his lap. He's a stocking man and will ensure you always have plenty in your drawer.

Little babydoll nightdresses too, usually delicate and translucent.

Oh, and blindfolds.

He also has a lovely collection of pretty silk ropes to tie you up in.

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Genuinely don't think I've seen anyone talk about chapter 25 as a pivotal moment for Dazai so I'm gonna put this out here because I think his reactions here kind of negate that whole omnipotent Dazai interpretation which I hate with every fibre of my being.

Firstly, he's like, clearly caught off guard here. And don't try to tell me he wasn't, because this is just one instance of his genuinely horrified reaction to Q's release and when he realized what was actually going on with Atsushi, Naomi and Haruno.

Him being caught off guard carries significance here because you'd never catch him screwing up this bad later in the series - which is exactly my point.

I wrote a post earlier about how I don't think Dazai really is very much like Mori or Fyodor at all, and I stand by that, because their motives are different. Tldr for that post: Mori and Fyodor are ambitious and proactive, while Dazai is empty/numb and reactive.

What this leads me to believe is that Dazai is less a chess master like those two and more of a contingency planner - he's so good at "predicting" because he is uncannily good at thinking like his opponent and then planning for literally any possibility under the sun he can come up with. He's no gambler. Everything and everyone is practically (and unknowingly) micromanaged. It's almost paranoid in a sense, and I definitely think it's a trauma response to something he went through that we don't know about yet - after all, he was more than capable of this before he even met Mori.

...which brings to me to Mori's influence here. It's straight up like Dazai forgot how willing Mori is to gamble huge risks for a good outcome. It's like he forgot the mafia could be a real threat to his best-laid plans.

Going to throw out a wild claim here that I don't think is actually all that baseless - I think it's widely assumed that Dazai molds himself to what he needs to be (true!) but I think this misses the idea that he is also easily influenced by the mindsets of the people around him (see: the difference between Entrance Exam Dazai and early manga Dazai, the whole "the longer he was in the mafia the darker and more incomprehensible he became" thing from Stormbringer, how dark his eyes get in the prison sections with Fyodor, etc.). I could go on, but for the sake of not making this post too much longer, let's assume this is true because it suddenly makes sense as to why he failed to predict Q but predicted other events much later that were inherently more difficult to predict:

He was in the wrong mindset. He was thinking like an Agency member, and dare I say, he even got a little complacent. He started to get used to not having to manipulate every last variable - he was removed from a toxic environment - only for Mori to pretty much instantly fuck that up in one scene.

Let's also not forget what happened the last time he miscalculated Mori's intentions.

The consequences of this blunder could've been a lot worse and he knows it.

In his mind, thinking like an ADA member wasn't good enough to stop a potentially awful outcome - awful outcomes that could bring him pain. So, he goes back to what he knows - think like the demon prodigy. Think like Mori. Later on, think like Dostoyevsky. Because it seems to me that he believes as long as he is still working for the light that it doesn't matter if he uses these horrifically manipulative and inhumane methods of getting there. But he is wrong. Darkness within the context of good intentions is still very much darkness, and it hurts people all the same.

In the very next chapter, Dazai arranges Ango's car accident. And he only gets worse and worse throughout the series as he regresses back into his paranoid darkness that manifests as this omnipotent facade - his safety net that ultimately prevents him from developing in a positive, more human direction.

[ddejavvu]

omfg imagine fairy reader getting off rubbing on Aaron’s finger or idk something bc she’s so tiny

today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Damn Aaron for being so attentive. You know that's his job, he's told you before that he has to stay vigilant, that he notices little things because it could save his life one day, but all it's done today is embarrass you. You'd been trying to muffle your moans with one of his t-shirts, buried in the fabric in the drawer he'd set up for you, but it wasn't working.

"Y/N?" He calls, and your eyes blow wide open from where you're nestled in his dresser drawer, "Hey, where are you? Are you alright?"

You don't answer at first, barely breathing to keep silent. But he doesn't let up, and you can hear his footsteps trekking to the bed, "Y/N? What's going on, sweetheart? Can you hear me?"

The next time he says your name it's louder, like he'd assumed the answer to his last question was no. You feel guilty about the concern in his voice, mouth dry as you finally respond, "I'm okay, Aaron."

You hear him freeze, then he realizes you're in the drawer and he's on it in seconds. Light spills into the previously dark space, and you make sure that all he can see is your head popping out from the fabric of his shirt.

"Hi," You smile sheepishly, face on fire as the one below your belly begs for attention. You definitely look strange, wide-eyed and half-buried in a shirt, but you don't think Aaron's figured out why yet.

"Hi," He hums, a neutral frown tight on his face. He's studying you, you realize, and you try to loosen up.

"I was trying to get a nap in," You explain, "I figured your bed would be too big for me all alone."

"I see," Aaron nods, "And you were... having a nightmare?"

"What?"

"You were crying," Aaron reminds you, "Or- or whining, or groaning, or-"

"I wasn't-" You rush to stop him, and something twitches in his left eye. His mouth hangs open with the hint of his next word but it never comes, and he nods slowly, just once.

"Oh."

"Aaron, I-" You wish you could sit up, flutter over to his face and make up some scattered excuse as to what was really happening, but if you do, he'll see your very naked form, "Not, like- I didn't mean to-"

"It's fine." He assures you, already making to close the drawer again, "I'll... leave you to it."

"No!" You rush to catch his hand, current state of dress forgotten, and when you catch his finger, the shirt falls off of you. There you stand- er, hover, thighs pressed together and chest on display.

"Don't go," You beg, and Aaron freezes up. He can't shut the drawer anymore, not unless he wants to squish you, and you've got a good grip on his finger.

"It's okay," He hums, worried you'll think he's judging you, "Really, everyone- uh, everyone does it. I just didn't think about it before I came in. But it's okay, I promise. I'm not upset or anything like that."

"No," You whimper, clutching tighter still at his hand, "I'm- I need, uh, help."

You're clutching so tight to Aaron's finger that you can feel it tense up.

"Help," He repeats cautiously, and you nod, nervous tears pricking at your eyes.

"I- I just," You stammer, heartbeat so loud it's in your ears, "I can't.. finish. And I don't know what to do, and I thought that if you helped me-"

"I shouldn't," Aaron hums sympathetically, "I- I don't want you to get attached to me like that. Not because I helped you."

"That's not why I want your help," You promise, wings fluttering to give you a little more air in the drawer. You hover straight onto his palm, using most of your willpower not to jump him right then and there, "I like you, Aaron. And I'd like you even if you hadn't helped me. We wouldn't have met," You realize, "But- but that's not the point! The point is, I need help, and I want it from you."

He takes a moment to consider, then his thumb curves up from where it had been flat beside the rest of his fingers to brush over your outstretched calves. Your breath hitches at the gentle touch he administers, and he keeps a close watch on your reaction.

"Are you sure?" He asks, and you've never nodded more vigorously.

"I'm sure," You scramble to your knees as Aaron curls his pointer finger in towards you. You appreciate the fact that he keeps his nails trimmed well, and he watches with a tight chest as you flip yourself onto your back. You lay with your head against his wrist, hands gripping his bent thumb for stability. It means that his pointer finger, when curled just right, brushes over your leaking slit, and you jolt in his palm.

"You okay?" He pauses, but you nod, "Yes! Yes, I'm okay, I'm- Aaron, please, keep going."

"Okay," He hums, experimentally pushing his finger against your slit. You're already slicked open from your previous activities, so he doesn't have trouble wetting the tip of his finger, but the stretch of his pointer finger is tantalizingly blissful as you writhe in his palm.

"Aaron, I need-" You pant, gripping his thumb like a lifeline, "I need more! More, please!"

"Shh," He soothes, rubbing his thumb down your side as he pushes his thumb further into your cunt, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

[bella-rose29]

Puppy

Request from anon:

hiiiii, first I wanna say that I enjoy reading your works, they're wonderful. <3

Now, I've seen you post about wanting Lockwood requests and I might have an idea. Lockwood and reader are in long-term relationship (they know each other since childhood, the reader is talentless but Lockwood comes to her when he need to relax/help with a plan/whatever), and no-one knows about the relationship besides them. And after some rough case when kipss crew had to help out, Lockwood and co and kipss crew are drinking in a bar to ease up (the reader works in the bar as part-time job) and in the drunken state Lockwood is even more confident than normally so someone makes a bet with him that he won be able to get a kiss out of the bartender (the reader) by the end of the night... I don't really know what after but maybe you'll be able to find a fluffy/funny ending to it?

I hope I'm making sense.

Have a nice day! :)))

First of all, thank you for the love anon, and I hope you have a nice day too!! <3

Second, I am completely in love with this idea (it's totally something Lockwood would do let's face it) and I had so much fun writing this!!!

Hopefully this lives up to expectations my lovely <3

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: descriptions of injury, fight scenes (with dead people), swearing, suggestive comments, drunken activities (mostly Lockwood), everybody is over 18 so they can legally drink in the pub

Tag list: @anathemaloren, @augustisintheair, @avdiobliss, @dangelnleif, @el-de-phi, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @karensirkobabes, @mitskiswift99, @mrsklockwood, @mrsyixingunicorn10, @ran23sblog, @superpositvecloudshipper, @t2sh0, @taygrls, @tournesol77, @wandamaximoffbae, @whenselenefallsinlove, @wordsarelife

As always, if you'd like to be added to/removed from the tag list, let me know here <3

(not my gif <3)

Lockwood was tired.

He'd barely slept the night before, despite not having a case, and he'd barely eaten the whole day. It was nearing 7pm now, the sun having set over an hour ago and leaving the city in almost darkness. There would be no sleeping tonight, either, since he and his company had to tackle a Type One in an old lady's house. All Lockwood really wanted was to see her, and have her tell him stories about her day until he fell asleep in her arms, but he couldn't do that right now. Hopefully this would be done quickly, this job, so that he could get to hers before she went to sleep.

Lockwood and Co had been in the kitchen of Mrs Lovey's house for a while now, cups of tea left empty on the counter and the packet of biscuits finished off. Initial readings had been low, giving Lockwood hope that they really would be done quickly, and they'd made note of the likely places for the Source.

"Lockwood? You're staring into space again. You alright?"

He blinked back into reality, pulling himself out of his thoughts of warm rooms and soft kisses.

"Huh? Oh, right. Yeah, I'm alright. Just surprised this Visitor hasn't turned up yet." He checked his watch. "Time for another reading in the living room?"

George nodded. "I'll go first."

The three of them headed in, rapiers at the ready.

"One degree. And a feeling of unease. It's definitely getting close to being here."

"Never mind close, I can see it," Lockwood whispered, taking up a defensive position.

"Yeah, I can hear it, too. Sounds like someone crying. I don't think this is a Type One either," Lucy added, and Lockwood couldn't help but agree.

"Any murders or anything happen here, George?"

"Not that I'm aware of, and I researched for days for this one. Didn't find anything out of the ordinary."

"Male or female, Luce? The voice."

"Uh, hang on, shut up a minute." She closed her eyes, focusing her efforts on Listening. "Male. Definitely. Sounds older, and like he's got some sort of trauma."

"Right. George, you figure out where the Source is. Lucy and I will watch it, make sure it doesn't go for you. Can either of you see it yet?"

"Not really. There's a sort of shiny mist over by that armchair, though," George said, pointing in the direction of the ratty old seat.

"Yeah, okay. That's where it is. Lucy?"

"Same as George. Getting stronger though. Maybe the chair is the Source?"

"Could be. George?"

"You're sure you've got my back, yeah? Because I really can't see it that well right now and I'd rather not die tonight."

"We're sure. Go on, have a poke around."

George did so, hesitantly getting closer to the chair and holding the scanner up. "Yeah, the Source is here somewhere." He prodded the side, and Lockwood saw Lucy flinch.

"It didn't like that at all. God, that was awful. Wait, George, don't-"

She slammed her hands over her ears, trying to block out the scream that even Lockwood could hear now.

"George, get the net," he cried out, rapier moving swiftly as the Visitor grew brighter and aimed for the head of the company.

"Incredibly clear visual, Lockwood! Lucy was right, it's definitely a Type Two!"

"GET THE NET, GEORGE!"

Lockwood had been backed into a corner, arm starting to ache from the continuous motion of the rapier holding off the ghost in front of him. Lucy had recovered (just about), and was picking up her rapier to help him. Sensing a second opponent, the ghost turned, and targeted Lockwood's coworker. The two of them spent the next few minutes sending the Visitor between them while George repeatedly chucked the net over various parts of the chair, expression growing more frantic each time.

"George, what's going on?!" Lucy shouted.

"It's not working! I don't think the chair is the Source! Or if it is, it's inside the chair!"

"Then get searching! Rip the whole bloody thing apart if you have to! But get on with it!" Lockwood gritted his teeth, fighting off the cold unease he felt flooding through his body. He thought of her, and her smile, and her laugh, and pushed back twice as hard against the Visitor. At some point he'd injured himself, the cut on his upper left arm bleeding slightly, but he couldn't think about that until the ghost was dealt with.

"GOT IT!" George shouted, voice triumphant. He slung the net around the object he'd found, and all at once the living room went silent apart from the heavy breaths of the three agents. The ghost disappeared, and the temperature started rising. George sat back on his knees and held the swaddled object up, bits of foam stuffing caught in his curls. "Knife, it's got blood on it. I'd wager she killed her husband. There was a cut already made in the back, made it easier to find." He looked vaguely manic, what with his wide grin and foam-covered hair, but Lockwood couldn't deny his gratitude for his weird friend.

"I reckon we need to have a chat with DEPRAC, then. Mrs. Lovey clearly doesn't live up to her name," he replied, smile matching George's.

~~~

Half an hour later, Lockwood was on his way to hers. He'd left George and Lucy in the taxi, telling them he had something to sort out and he'd be back later, and to not wait up for him, and had caught his own cab to his destination.

He dragged himself up the front steps, knocking on the front door, and couldn't help the smile that appeared when it swung open to reveal his girlfriend.

"Jesus Christ, you look like shit."

"Charming as ever, love. Can I come in?"

Y/n stepped to the side, giving him a peck on the lips as he went past. "Shoes off, then up to my room. I'll be there in a sec. Gimme your coat, I'll hang it up for you."

He pulled himself up to her room, trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her siblings, and collapsed on her bed.

"Look at you. You're like a puppy, all cute and cuddly."

He lifted his head as Y/n walked in, closing the door behind her with a soft click as she balanced a tray in her hands.

"Jacket off. And shirt."

"If you wanted me naked you could have just said so, darling." He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively, revelling in her blush.

"Shut up and strip, Anthony," she mumbled.

He complied, smirk turning into smile as he saw the medical supplies on the tray, right next to a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits.

"What even happened?"

"Honestly? No clue. Type One turned out to be a Type Two murder victim though, so that was fun."

"You know, there are times I wish I had Talent. Then you come here looking like this and saying things like that and I wonder why I ever wanted it in the first place. Easy on the shirt, I think it's stuck." He'd winced trying to peel the fabric away from the wound, and Y/n immediately replaced his fingers with hers, touch gentle as she attempted to prise his shirt off. Sucking in air through her teeth as she got it off, Lockwood knew it was bad. It had been a dull throb the whole time he'd been travelling over, too exhausted to think about it more, but now that he had nothing else to think about the pain sharpened.

"This is gonna hurt, okay? I'm just gonna sterilise it, so try not to move. Three, two..." He waited for one, but before she got there, Y/n had placed the cotton wool on his arm, dabbing the alcohol on the wound. He gritted his teeth, asking her about her day. She spoke while she worked, cleaning it out and covering it in protective wrapping. Her voice distracted him, letting him lose himself in her words, and she was done before he knew it, pouring a cup of tea and offering it out to him. "Put this on," she said, passing over an old shirt of his that he left at hers specifically for times like this.

"Do you really want me to?"

"No, but if it means that when my parents inevitably walk in they don't kick you out forever, I'll live with it." He laughed slightly, placing the tea down and pulling the top on, careful not to disturb his wound.

"You know you don't have to do that, right? I'm perfectly capable of looking after my own injuries."

"I know," she shrugged, sitting down next to him on the bed. "But I don't mind. Just another excuse to be close to you, I guess."

"You don't need an excuse for that, love. You know I'll happily give you anything you like."

"Anything?"

He nodded.

"Alright," she said, leaning up to plant a kiss on his lips, breaking away when their smiles got too wide.

"I thought you were going to make me dance naked in the street or something." Her eyes went wide as she took in his words.

"Oh my god, I am totally making you do that sometime."

He groaned, unable to fight the smile on his face as she peppered his cheeks with kisses, finally pressing one to his mouth.

"Remind me why I love you?"

"Because I'm amazing, and the most incredible person ever?"

He chuckled, kissing her again. "Yeah. You are."

~~~

"Where the hell have you been, Tony? We've been waiting for you!"

"Just had some last minute things to sort out, don't get your knickers in a twist, Kipps. Oh, thanks Luce," he said, smiling at the girl as she handed him a flask of tea. He'd actually been at Y/n's, spending time with her before her shift at the pub. He'd almost been late, her parents wanting him to stay for dinner (he had politely declined, reminding them that he had a job to go to as well as their daughter), and her younger siblings wanting him to play with them. Lockwood and Y/n's parents had been friends since before either of them were born, at one point the two families living next to each other on Portland Row, and it was only the arrival of the fourth baby five years ago that had made the L/n family move. It had only been natural that Anthony and Y/n started dating, having been childhood friends, and her parents were delighted at the pairing. Unfortunately that now meant that they wanted him to spend every spare minute at their house, which more often than not made him slightly late for work.

"I'm not wearing knickers," the older boy muttered indignantly, clearly unable to come up with a good enough retort.

"Oh, are these the files? Thanks George."

"Wait, have you not even read these?" Kipps said, eyebrows rising.

"Of course I have, just not the whole compiled thing. I'm not stupid." Kipps scoffed at that.

"Yeah, sure you're not, Tony. C'mon. Hurry up and read, we're late because of you and we need to set everything up before it gets dark."

~~~

Three hours later, the two teams were close to death.

Both in the sense that they were run ragged, energy severely depleted and bodies aching, and also in that they were completely surrounded by ghosts, Type Ones and Types Twos blocking every exit. The report had said that there were only meant to be two Spectres in the whole abandoned department store, but before it had even been properly dark Lucy had heard voices crying out and shouting, and Lockwood had seen death glows so bright he'd needed his sunglasses.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing?!"

He was taking a break, eyes aching from the brightness surrounding them and arm protesting the weight of his rapier. He scanned the area, sure that Lucy would have his back for a moment, and spotted something through a gap in the Visitors.

"Lucy?"

"What?!"

"I need you to not kill me and cover me with flares."

"Why?"

"Because I'm going to run through the ghosts."

"You're WHAT?!"

"What? What's he saying?" Kipps was trying to get closer to them, rapier cutting arcs into the air and not giving him much headway.

"You're impossible, you know that?" Lucy glared at him, grabbing some flares from her belt.

"Yep. Ready?" She threw, the magnesium creating a break in the swarm of ghosts large enough for Lockwood to cut through. He made it to the other side (although a near miss from a badly aimed flare made him think that Lucy was trying to hit him and not the Visitors), trying to block out the sounds of his team mates yelling as they fought swathes of the undead. He ducked under a chair that a poltergeist had thrown, dodging the knives hurled afterwards. Skidding to a halt in front of a large iron box filled with objects, the lid hanging open, Lockwood slammed it shut, throwing a net over the top for good measure and securing the edges. Within seconds the majority of the Visitors disappeared. A few still remained, including the two poltergeists, but the number was much better.

The two teams spent the next thirty minutes finding the various Sources of the remaining ghosts, all the while trying to not get hit by the items the poltergeists were throwing, and by the end of it when Kipps suggested going to the pub, nobody disagreed.

~~~

Lockwood and Co were in the taxi on their way to the pub when George piped up.

"Why'd you agree to going to the pub with Kipps? I would have thought you'd rather eat your own foot than spend more time with him."

"I need a drink, and he said he'd buy the first round. If it's free, I'll take it. I don't really care who's buying it, even if it's Kipps."

They clambered out the taxi, Lockwood paying the driver and jogging to catch up with the other two just as they entered the pub. Spotting Kipps' team already sat down, the three of them headed over, taking seats and giving their order to the older agent. Lockwood looked around, certain he recognised the building but unsure why, when his gaze caught on the girl behind the bar.

Ah.

Of course the pub Kipps picked was the one that Y/n worked at. Lockwood had been here before, which is why he thought it was familiar, but nobody knew about his relationship with the bartender. Kipps came back with the drinks then, one of the other servers following with the rest and asking for ID. Taking his first sip, Lockwood felt himself relax a little more, happy to not be going anywhere for a while after the gruelling job earlier.

~~~

"You," Lucy pointed at him, "are so drunk right now."

"Seriously, you cannot hold your alcohol, can you Tony?"

"Don't call me Tony, you prick." It was true that Lockwood was a lightweight, and he knew it, but he grumbled about the accusation anyway. Kipps only laughed, not doing much better than his rival in terms of handling alcohol, and took another swig of his beer.

"You're probably rubbish at picking up girls, too. Y'know, you're probably rubbish at every normal guy thing."

"Shut up, I can so pick up girls." He wasn't going to let Kipps tell him he was bad at anything.

"Oh really?"

"Yep. Amazing at it."

"Bet you can't get a kiss out the bartender though."

"Which one," he said, hoping Kipps would pick the right one.

"The one in the blue top, about your age. In fact, I am so confident you'll be shit at this, I'll bet ten quid you can't do it."

"Oh you're on," Lockwood said, knowing already he'd win the bet. Kipps had unknowingly picked Lockwood's girlfriend, and this would be the easiest ten pounds of his life.

"I'll bet a tenner too. I'm looking forward to watching you fail dramatically," Kat Godwin added, smirk on her face. Bobby placed his own bet, and soon enough there was fifty quid on the line, with George and Lucy agreeing with Kipps.

"Off you go, Lockwood," Lucy smiled, giving him a pat on the back. "Try not to traumatise the poor girl."

"Oh, just you all wait," he slurred, pointing a finger at them. "This is gonna be easyyyy." He headed for the bar, confidence filling him and giving him the ability to walk a lot straighter than he would otherwise have. He leaned forward on the wooden surface, fingers drumming against it. "Heyyy," he said, smiling up at his girlfriend as he slid (unsuccessfully) onto a stool.

"Hi... you okay?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm great, and you," he wagged his finger at her, pausing for effect, "are gorgeous." He winked, and she suppressed a laugh, making him pout. "Why're you laughing? It's true!"

"Ant, honey, you are very drunk right now. Please go home," she said, pressing a hand to her mouth to stop the giggles bursting out.

"But I can't go home," he said, suddenly very serious.

"Oh really? Why's that?"

"Because I need a kiss if I'm gonna go home." He puckered up immediately, leaning forward over the bar and closing his eyes.

"Oh my god, Anthony, stop it!"

"Aw, do you not wanna kiss me?" He pouted again, and Y/n couldn't stop her laughter anymore. Lockwood sat back, crossing his arms over his chest and huffing. "Well, I'm not going away until I get a kiss from the prettiest bartender person lady that I've ever seen, so you'll have to get used to me being here."

"Okay, alright! Lemme serve this customer, yeah?" She turned away, leaving Lockwood to stew in his seat at her lack of kisses. Waiting for her to come back to him felt like an eternity, and when she came around the bar to stand next to him, he perked up, half launching himself at her. "Woah! Hold on, Ant! Jesus!" He was still sat on the stool, Y/n being only slightly taller than him despite being stood up, and he pulled her between his legs, arms wrapping around her waist. "Wait, what about your friends? I thought they didn't know?"

"Don't care, jus' wanna kiss you. There's a share of fifty pounds in it for you," he said suggestively, wiggling his eyebrows like he had a few weeks ago when she'd patched him up.

"Oh wow, you really love me, huh? Kissing me for money?" she asked sarcastically, but her eyes were warm. He nodded, dopey look on his face.

"Please? 'Cause Kipps said I can't pick up girls, and he bet money that I couldn't get a kiss out of you, and then the others bet money too, and mostly I wanna prove him wrong, but also I want the money so I can take you on the most amazing date in your life and get you ice cream."

"You are such a golden retriever puppy of a boyfriend, aren't you? Come here." She took his face in her hands, placing a few soft kisses on his mouth. His arms tightened around her waist, holding her closer to him, and Y/n had to brace a hand on the bar so that she didn't fall over from the awkward angle. When she pulled back, he chased her lips for a moment, opening his eyes slowly. His gaze was full of love, and he had a gentle smile on his face.

"I love you, Y/n/n."

"Love you too, Ant. Now get your fifty pounds and drink some water."

"Ugh, but water's boringgg," he complained, frown forming on his face. Y/n chuckled, kissing the crease between his eyebrows.

"I'll give you more than kisses when you come over on Saturday if you sober up." Lockwood stopped frowning immediately, and Y/n could practically feel the happiness radiating off of him.

"Where's the water?"

~~~

"Shit, how'd you do that, Tony?"

Lockwood shrugged. "I'm just really good at picking up girls."

"Sure, is that vodka?"

"Nope, water."

"Why have you got that?" Kipps wrinkled his nose, handing over his portion of Lockwood's winnings.

"Because she told me to drink it," he said, sipping the liquid through the straw he'd asked for (it made drinking boring things more fun, he'd told Y/n).

"Uh... okay?"

"Yeah. I feel like- hang on, Lucy, where's your tenner? Thanks. I feel like it's a little bit unfair, the bet, 'cause she is actually my girlfriend, but- no, you can't take the money back! You made a bet! No take-backs! But thanks anyway."

"So you can't pick up girls!" Kipps shouted, thinking he'd finally found something Anthony Lockwood couldn't do.

"Well technically I can, 'cause I had to pick her up in the first place to get her to be my girlfriend, and also she's not that heavy, so I can definitely pick her up if she doesn't wriggle too much. I know 'cause I've done it before."

Kipps groaned. "Wait... she just told you to drink water, so you are?"

"Yep. She's very persuasive. Basically said that if I drink it all then when I go to her house on Saturday we're gonna have sex," he said casually.

Everybody around the table choked on their drinks.

[lovemari]

IMPORTANT: Hello! My old account, Lovemari, got deleted. Therefore, I had to make a new one. I'm honestly pretty upset about this so I'll take some time to recover! Thankfully, all my posts are saved as I write them in google docs before posting. Please like and reblog so I can reach my old followers and potentially new ones!

Fears holding him back.

Reminder: I'm not an experienced writer so construction criticism is always welcome! Also, I write for fun. I just wanted to share my work around the world!

The fight was pretty stupid, honestly, but that didn't stop you from breaking down into tears as you watched Wanderer leave the room. His words were like knives, digging into your heart and ripping it out. It hurt. His words hurt.

The fight was about wanting children. Instead of listening to Wanderer's words about his fear of treating the child like his mother did, you lashed out on him. It was cruel, you knew that.

So why exactly did you decide to do it? Was it right to get mad at him? Was it necessary to not understand his trauma?

You could say that you wanted Wanderer to let go of his past and embrace the future. Others could say you were thinking about yourself and not his thoughts on the idea of raising a young one.

All you knew was that you messed up badly. You weren't exactly perfect but that wasn't an excuse to snap at him.

Meanwhile, on Wanderer's side, he wanted a child. In fact, he loved children. The thought of giving someone something he didn't have made him quite happy.

Unfortunately, dark thoughts entered his mind. What if he was going to be like his mother? What if he won't want them in the end?

So many things were holding him back from being happy. He wanted it, but did he deserve it? It's not like he's an angel or anything. He's done so many evil things in the past. What if the child ends up like him?

It definitely didn't help when you were suddenly so angry. He knew how much you wanted children but watching you yell at him made him feel absolutely guilty.

Some part of him also felt like he needed that criticism? Wanderer says he “forgot about the past” and yet he hasn't “forgotten the feeling”. It's not like he doesn't feel things when the thunder strikes.

Wanderer felt a tap on the shoulder. He looked over to see you, looking guilty, “I'm sorry.” she whimpered. Without any thought, Wanderer immediately hugged you.

You were surprised to say the least when he hugged you so suddenly. Still, you accepted it. You felt like a good hug was what you both needed and wanted.

Wanderer held your chin up, “Look, I've been hiding from my past, and I need to stop that. It makes me feel sick.” You noticed in understanding, wanting Wanderer to finish his sentence, “I want children. There I said it.” Wanderer confessed.

You could tell this was definitely something hard for him to say. He was never the one to express what's going inside his head.

You rested your head on Wanderer's shoulder, “You wanna know what I think? You'd be an amazing father.” You felt Wanderer go stiff. He wasn't expecting that and it made him feel overjoyed. Something he doesn't experience often.

Wanderer kissed your cheek. He loved you. He had a relationship where you could both understand each other. He felt like this fight was actually a part of your relationship with him. It was a learning experience. I told him that whenever you two had another fight, talking it out could resolve it.

Wanderer held your hands, “It's late. You should get some sleep. Don't worry, I'll be right with you when you wake up.” He assured you.

One day, he'll say that to his future kids.

[that-student-that-has-homework]

How to Write a Gojo x Reader?

My sister one day just woke up and chose violence: "hey how would you write a Gojo x Reader?"

So let me get something straight: I take Gege's words pretty seriously when they say: Gojo wouldn't be loyal. So she's (my lil sis) just here to mess with my head.

That being said: I did come out of it with something. I'll share my process at the end. MasterList here !! SPOILERS For anyone who hasn't seen JJK0 or Season 2: Hidden Inventory!!

You work in a second-hand bookstore - cafe. The cafe owner got married to the bookstore owner and they just made it into a combo thing. It's in an area they walk by often enough? Like post missions and school and stuff they just walk by normally.

It's most likely Nanami, Geto, or Ieri that drives the party into the bookstore. Though in Nanami's case I think it's more Haibara noticed he seemed interested in the place and suggested it to everyone.

You're younger than they are by at least a year. Gojo definitely calls you a kid. "What the heck are they doing employing a kid?"

When Gojo buys something from the store, "this kid's going to be taking your money now."

"Cheeky brat."

"Takes one to know one," you make a face at him.

"Where's the manager?" Gojo makes a show of leaning down from his human-skyscraper height. "I want to complain about the horrible customer service."

"Now now Satoru, don't bully the store clerk," yeah you definitely like the guy with the bangs more.

You'd like to say you don't see much of them after that, but Nanami and Geto, and therefor Gojo by extension, show up a few more times to the bookstore and cafe. You get along well with Geto and Nanami, and argue a lot with Gojo.

You do deal with a lot of second hand books though, so some books that come in have curses on them. Coincidentally, it's when the Jujutsu Tech students are all busy that these cursed books come in and the different curses start festering and growing. They become enough of a problem that "accidents" start happening. You still go to work daily though, because you've miraculously managed to not be a victim of any of it.

Though you did have mysterious scratches and bruises and you don't know how you got them.

No fatalities, but some really close calls. Like a bookshelf almost crushing a few people.

When Gojo and Geto hear about these incidents when they get back from a mission, they're like: hold up we know that place. They choose to go personally and are almost alarmed by how bad it was. Sensing the presence of sorcerers the curse gets violent and that's when you develop the ability to see curses too.

Gojo doesn't have the time to teach some kid about these curses, so Geto is the one to comfort you after experiencing what you did. He starts checking up on you regularly (with Gojo in tow) after that experience with how shaken you were. He's very sweet, and you're young, so you develop a bit of a crush on the dark-haired boy.

Let it be known Gojo picks up on it immediately and starts tagging along just to antagonize and tease you.

Things change drastically after they fail their mission with Riko.

While they're both shaken up, Geto is still Geto, so he feels duty bound to check in with you. You asking both him and Gojo for curse self-defense advice, helps him a bit. That being said, when he's lost and drifting about, you do feel it on a subconscious level. Your conscious brain doesn't catch up fast enough unfortunately. You are, as Gojo, put it a kid.

Given Gojo's Six-Eyes, he's actually the one who first figures out what you can do. Geto's the one who does most of the instructing because Gojo's not the best at it.

You're a weird kind of normalcy. You're not a sorcerer, and they don't advise you to be one, but you can understand what they do to a certain extent. As a result the three of you kinda bond over all sorts of things.

After Geto snaps and Gojo is looking for him, he comes by the bookstore, concerned about you, though you were almost a sorcerer at this point. He honestly feels relieved to see you.

"Is everything alright?" You can feel it in your gut that something is terribly wrong. "Sugu-kun came by the other day and you weren't with him."

"Suguru came by?"

"Yeah, he came by to say goodbye, because his mission was going to send him away for a very long time."

Gojo's shock is visible on his face, "did he do anything to you?"

"No?" You frown at him. "Sugu-kun would never."

Gojo looks so torn by those words and you're so confused by what's happening, but Gojo just leaves without saying a thing.

After his falling out with his best friend, he avoids the bookstore for a bit...until his feet take him there one day.

"Satoru!" You look at him with so much concern. "You're still alive!"

"Hah?" He sneers. "Of course I'm still alive! I'm the strongest!"

"Yeah, yeah," you roll your eyes, "so um, have you heard anything from Sugu-kun, is he okay?"

"Is there anything new on the cafe menu?" You're taken aback by how he doesn't even answer your question.

Again on a subconscious level you know something's wrong, but you're struggling to put it together. So you just tell him about the new sweet that you really like that's been added. Then reiterate your question for him to respond to. He ignores you again and goes and buys one for him and one for you.

You've barely taken a bite into the treat when he speaks up, "Suguru's a curse user now."

You look so surprised.

"That's the mission, he was talking about," Gojo takes a bite of his own sweet, but his expression is sour.

-_-

Gojo continues to frequent that bookshop you work at, probably chasing the memories of the time when it was the three of you. You opened up to him more after what happened with Suguru. That being said, your tongue only got sharper with time, and so did your sass.

By the time you were in your last year of high school, you had each other's numbers and talked regularly.

"Well would you look at that squirt?" He'd tease. "You're going to join the adult world soon, but you're still as tiny as a kid."

"Everyone's tiny in comparison to you Mr. Tokyo Tower," you roll your eyes, "how is the weather up where you're at? I get the feeling the difference in altitude is affecting your ability to think."

As you both grow into adulthood, Gojo, given he makes much more money than you, starts insisting you meet up in expensive places he knows you can't afford to flaunt his wealth in your face. He is inviting you to treat you though.

The first time he pulled this on you, he went about gaslighting convincing you that the fancy decor didn't mean anything, and that the place was perfectly within the budget on a university student...until the bill showed up and you panic. He laughed so hard, it disturbed the other patrons, and even brought tears to his eyes, heck his abdominal muscles were sore. He paid for the whole thing afterwards, don't worry.

He couldn't get you to meet him at any place he picked for a while after that.

"My job pays really well, what's the problem with me treating a friend?"

"Well this friend can't repay this kindness so easily and feels bad about letting you have something against her."

"Eh?" He looks kinda pouty. "You really think I'd really be that petty?"

"You are."

"I'm here being generous and treating you to fancy foods you can only dream of tasting and you're being so mean."

"You've just proven my point, Satoru," you sigh, "I don't want to be a friend that only takes without giving back."

He's more amused that affronted by all that. He wasn't exactly trying to put you in his debt.

"Would you consider becoming a jujutsu sorcerer then?" He hums aloud. "You could repay me that way."

"Weren't you the one wailing about how I'm pretty mediocre and weak?" You questioned. "Wouldn't I just die on the job?"

"Ah good point," he teases.

You throw him a dirty look.

"Then," he looks at you intensely, "when I ask you for a favor, don't deny me."

"Depends on the favor Satoru," you're careful with your answer.

"Then at least, make sure I'm very high on your priority list," he says flippantly, "after all you're super lucky that I even give you any of my attention."

"Oh yeah," you sarcastically reply, but you're smiling, "thank you so much for gracing my insignificant self with your great presence."

You both laugh at that.

You do try to give back in some way. You accompany him, you give him teaching advice where you can. You celebrate his birthdays. You let him talk about Suguru. You didn't judge him after he told you he'd killed Suguru. You mourned him together. You said the things you thought he was thinking aloud for him. You didn't attack him when he feigned indifference. You did push him a bit. You tried not to flinch when he blew up in your face though. You stood there like an anchor, but he could see the tremors you held back, and you couldn't keep your tears contained.

You were terrified of him in that moment. You stayed because you wanted to be a good friend. He walked away without a word when he was done.

You accepted his invite a week later, he treated you to a fancy sweets place again. He was back to his usual self then, joking and poking and everything. This was his way of apologizing without apologizing really.

You knew better than to feel special to Satoru though.

You were only ever friends. After all, the one you'd had a crush on was Suguru. You wouldn't deny that Satoru was a beautiful specimen though.

But as a beautiful specimen, he was more interested in people who came close to his beauty. Which was why you were often his "women-expert". You did a shit job of it according to him.

"Satoru," you said it in such an exasperated tone, "each person is different."

"But there are some things that are shared over all!"

"Yeah, we want to feel loved and appreciated," you responded, digging into the parfait he'd gotten you, "but that's common to men too."

He clicked his tongue at you.

"If you want to properly pursue a lady, you need to closely listen to what she's saying."

He'll show you the texts they'd exchanged with absolutely no regard to your sanity. It's absurd what you're seeing. It's also hilarious how bad he is at this. Gross as what you were seeing was.

"It feels like neither one of you is serious," you leaned back, kinda disturbed by you'd seen.

"I'm not looking for anything serious."

"Then why are you asking me for advice?"

"It felt like fun."

"Why do I put up with you?"

"Because I feed you."

"So I'm a stray?"

"Hehe pretty much."

You laugh for a moment, "if you really believe that I only hang around you because you treat me, I'll punch you."

"Go ahead, I won't feel a thing."

"Fair point," you thought about it for a moment, "I'll have to figure out a different way to show you how upset I am with you thinking I don't value you as a friend."

You're not Suguru...but you're still his friend.

I'm tired so I'm stopping here. If you want to see more please let me know. I did have some ideas for the Shibuya arc.

So for the thought process: I felt like with Gojo it's either a one and done or it's just angst. You don't get a happy ending this guy. It'd get messy...Gojo is lonely. Look at how he's frantically and desperately trying to collect and train more strong sorcerers. I think he could have feelings for a person, but he'd be the one to be guarded and stuff them down. He's the strongest after all.

[felice-jaganshi]

His Pet

Alastor X OC

Chapter 9

They started to walk home, her hand in the crook of his arm, looking like a proper old timey couple. Zariah started zoning out again though, having too many thoughts running through her head from all the sights and sounds and everything that just happened. So many new story ideas! New dark romances she could write!

Alastor noticed her eyes glaze over and chuckled, “ah darling~ you're lucky I have a hold on you. Who knows where you'd wander without my arm to guide you home.”

They passed by the Vee's tower, and Vox rushed out, blocking their path. “Alastor! Out and about after such a humiliating defeat to Adam?! And with a little paid whore on your arm too?! Hah! I would have thought you were above something like that, but I guess not.” He was grinning like mad, excited to slander Alastor publicly at every turn.

Zariah spoke up for him next, “Hey, Alastor is a true gentleman and doesn't need to pay anyone to want to be around him!” She smirked, “Even you ran to come see him, didn't you?”  Vox cracked with electric fury, and Alastor patted her head,

Alastor laughed as well, however, “Ahahaha.. Voxy boy, you should know by now that I do not go out with just anyone. They must be quite special for me to show interest, and my dear pet here definitely fits the bill.” 

“Now dear, let me handle this. Box is just jealous that I'd rather spend time with you than him.”

Suddenly a blast of electricity shot towards Zariah's face, only to be blocked by Alastor's cane. “We'll see if you still want her on your arm after I rip her stupid tails off!” She squeaked and moved to stand behind Alastor, freeing his arm to do as he needed to fight vox.

(I can't actually write fight scenes to save my life~~ so we'll skip that~~)

Vox's screen was cracked and he took several steps back towards his tower. “Fortunately for you, I have an important meeting, so I'll have to kick your ass another day!” He turned into electricity and jumped into a security camera. Alastor chuckled softly and turned to Zariah, offering her his arm again. She gladly accepted, and though he didn't look injured at all, she used some subtle healing magic on him just in case. 

“It seems our little Voxie can only handle so much before he has to bow down and retreat. You did quite well today my dear. I'm proud of you.” 

She purred at his words, “really? I'm glad!” 

He smiled fondly at her, “Remember when I said I'd take our bond seriously? Well, I realize I haven't been keeping good on that promise lately. I've been questioning your intentions and brought shame upon myself. I am… not the best at trusting others. But I will make more of an effort with you. Because you've earned it.”

She blushed and looked at him, her heart fluttering and butterflies in her gut. This was the most romantic thing he'd ever said!

Alastor felt a little weird about the way she looked at him, but decided not to comment on it as they made their way back to the hotel. They entered and Angel Dust was immediately pulling her off of Alastor's arm.

“Z! Hey, you okay?!” He held her shoulders and looked her over. Charlie had told him about Alastor yelling at her when he got back from work.

“Yeah, I'm fine Dusty. Why wouldn't I be? Oh, did you hear about the Vox fight already?” She asked with a head tilt, that was fast if so…

“What? No, I heard about…” He looked over at Alastor, then threw an arm casually around her shoulders and acted casual, “Listen, tomorrow night I'm going out clubbing with some friends, I want ya to come with me okay? I just know you're gonna love it!” He was trying to play it cool. If her situation was like his and Valentino's… he wanted to help you, but knew he'd have to be careful about it or he might make it worse…

She smiled and hugged Angel, “Sure! I've never been to a club!” She turned to Alastor, “Al, I'm gonna go out with Dusty tomorrow, okay?” She wasn't asking permission, just stating a fact.

His eyes half closed, considering telling her no… then thought better of it, “hm, alright. But I'm sending Husker with you.” He then left them alone.

Angel's face lit up, and he called out to Husker, “alright! Yo Whiskers! You're getting tomorrow off!”

Zariah smiled, “oh, you had work today right? Want me to massage out any sore spots while ya bitch about it?” 

Angel sighed and leaned his weight into her, “yes, puh-lease! Your hands are magic! Literally!” He laughed at his own joke.

Lucifer watched them from a doorway, speaking to Charlie in the other room. “She seems alright… you said she sometimes goes hazy eyed and spaces out? That I think might just be trauma from getting kicked out of heaven… that kinda thing really messes you up. I would know.”

Charlie sighed, “she also locks herself in her room for hours on end some days and won't tell any of us what she's doing in there. I'm trying to respect her right to privacy and hoping she'll tell me when she's ready, but I'm still worried.”

He nodded, “hm, I think I can get in. If we can get her to open up to everyone, rather than shutting herself away, we'll be able to see easier if he does try anything with her.”

“You're right… but, maybe she'll unlock his softer side. If she can touch his heart, she may be the key to his redemption.”

“Heh, you're an even bigger dreamer than me. I don't know if I can be that optimistic.” 

Content warning: there be Valentino shenanigans from next chapter onwards. It will all be less than what's in episode 4. But, proceed with caution anyways if you are sensitive like me.

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 13

WARNINGS: small amount of swearing

You're in Defense Against the Dark Arts. As usual, you are reading out of that terrible book that Professor Umbridge has assigned. You rest your chin in your hand. Your eyes lazily move down the paragraphs and soon you find yourself drifting off.

You jerk awake when something slaps the edge of your desk. You look up to see Umbridge smiling down at you.

"Sorry, Professor," you apologize. "Haven't been getting enough sleep."

She takes her hand off your desk. "What could possibly be keeping you from getting enough sleep?" she asks in her high, perky voice.

You don't know how to answer her question honestly without revealing that you've been sneaking out late every night to help Fred and George. Umbridge waits patiently by your desk for your response.

"Nightmares," you eventually reply. It's not entirely a lie.

"Ah," is all Umbridge says in response. Though she's still smiling, she appears to be disappointed that she couldn't get you to give away your secret, but, then again, how could she know? Maybe she assumes you are hiding something because you're good friends with the Weasley twins. They're always "up to no good", as every Hogwarts staff member would say. Professor Umbridge starts to walk away.

George leans over. "Probably about her, am I right?" he snickers.

Before you can reply, Umbridge stops half way to her desk. Did she hear George's comment?

"Detention, Mr. Weasley," she says without turning around.

"What?" Fred, who was also falling asleep, quickly sits up. Umbridge continues toward her desk.

"Not you," George growls. He sighs heavily in frustration.

"Aw, man. Sorry about that," you sympathize.

"It's not your fault."

"I'm still sorry it happened all the same. I wouldn't want to spend any time out of class with that woman," you whisper.

"I wouldn't want to spend any time with that woman, period," Fred says. "What'd you do, George?"

"Not anything that deserves detention!" he spits.

You don't like seeing George upset. You search for something to say to change the subject.

"Don't we have a Hogsmeade trip coming up at the end of the week?" you ask. You're glad to see George's expression soften.

"Yeah, that's right!" says Fred. "I can't wait. I've been needing a break from classes."

"I think we all need a break. And not just from classes if you catch my meaning."

"Ah, yes, yes. We have been working very hard. Especially you, y/n."

"You should come to Hogsmeade with Fred and I," George says. "Let us treat you."

You grin. "Alright... thanks." You don't know who else you'd go to Hogsmeade with, other than Hermione, but she's got her own thing with Harry and Ron that you don't want to invade.

"No, thank you!" Fred gives you a dashing smile. You feel your face grow warm. "We've never made as much progress in a whole year!"

You're surprised he feels this way. You feel like you've only barely made progress, but you don't say as much. "You know... I often think the two of you could be at the top of your classes if you really cared. You are both very smart and completely capable."

Fred gasps theatrically. "Bloody hell, did you hear that, George?"

"Sure did, Fred." George tips his head to the side and smiles crookedly. "The great y/n y/l/n just called us smart."

You laugh out loud, then quickly cover your mouth with your hands. You look over at Umbridge. Behind her desk, scribbling away with her pink feathered quill, the corner of her mouth twitches. You wait for her to call your name, but she remains focused on whatever she's writing.

"I think she has a thing for Slytherins," George whispers.

"Pfft. She definitely doesn't have a thing for me."

"She does dislike you more than other Slytherins, but you're still a Slytherin. I'm surprised I haven't gotten detention yet," says Fred.

"Yeah. Don't jinx it," George grumbles.

That night during dinner, while George is in detention, you and Fred sit with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

"Where's Georgie at?" Ron asks through a mouthful of food.

"Detention," Fred answers. "By Umbridge."

Ron swallows thickly and shakes his head. "A terrible fate indeed." He makes eye contact with Harry who tucks his hands underneath the table.

Hermione clears her throat. "So, um, what do you think of her, y/n? Professor Umbridge I mean."

You shrug your shoulders. "Oh, I dunno. She's just another strict teacher. Reminds me of Snape... setting aside all of the smiling and pink clothing, of course."

"Has she inspected any of your classes yet?"

"Inspected?"

"Yeah," says Ron. "She's been going around with a clipboard. Checking up on the teachers and such."

"She's not just a teacher, you know," Hermione explains to you. "She's here representing the Ministry of Magic. Fudge thinks Dumbledore is no longer mentally sane, so he sent Umbridge to make sure Hogwarts is still adequate enough for students to attend... or something like that."

"She used the word 'safer' to describe her method of teaching," you say.

Ron rolls his eyes. "Right. Because the way Hogwarts does it is so dangerous!" he says sarcastically.

"I don't know about all of you, but I'm not learning anything from her," Harry adds. "At least, not anything useful."

"I've learned that I hate the color pink," Fred says. You laugh.

"This is serious," says Harry, unamused. You listen intently. You don't often get to hear from Harry because he's usually so quiet. "We need a real Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Even the imposter we had last year was better than Umbridge. Sure, he was planning to have me killed the entire time, but I still learned some things during his classes." Your mouth hangs slightly open in disbelief. You're taken back by how casually he can talk about last year's events. "How are we supposed to defend ourselves against Voldemort and his followers if we don't know how?"

There's a startlingly loud clashing that causes everyone but Harry to jump in their seats. You realize that you had absentmindedly let your fork slip out of your grasp and onto your plate.

"Sorry," you chuckle shakily, still unsettled by Harry's mentioning the Dark Lord's name. Fred watches you with concern.

"So how about that Hogsmeade trip this weekend?" Hermione blurts nervously. "I hear The Three Broomsticks has this new drink..."

Fred leans in closer to you. "You alright?" he whispers so only you can hear it past Hermione's rambling.

You nod and give him a weak smile. "I... just wasn't expecting that."

Fred smiles back apologetically. "Harry doesn't give a damn when it comes to being discreet about You-Know-Who."

"I can see that."

"Yeah..." Fred stares at his empty plate for a minute in thought. Then he looks up at you excitedly. "Hey, you wanna get out of here? I have something I want to show you."

You grin, the feeling of suspense already gathering inside of you. "Sure... but shouldn't we wait for George?"

Fred waves a hand of dismissal. "It'll be fast."

After a moment of hesitation, you agree. You say goodnight to the others, gathering your things. Once you're on your feet, Fred takes you by the hand.

[writing-good-vibes]

in the back of his mom's mercury

after all this time, anna finally writes a corey x reader fic !! you know when you just get a single scenario stuck in your head. no plot, no nothing, just vibes? that's what this is. also this is somehow the second round of car sex i've written for corey, i guess he just lends himself to that sort of thing.

WARNING for smut (not particularly explicit), f!reader, car sex, inexperience but not first time, post-accident but pre-michael corey, smoking (corey, not reader) and very vague mentions of child abuse (joan cunningham hate club).

taglist: @slutforstabbings (if anyone else wants to be tagged in corey related things, just let me know !!)

"I dunno if we should be doing this," Corey whispers, hesitating at the curb.

"It's okay, she won't even notice," you promise, turning back from where you were already halfway around the hood of Corey's mom's car. Weaving your fingers together with his, you make him look at you. "You deserve to live a little, Core."

Corey does look at you, squeezing your hand. But with his free hand he worries the ridged edge of the car keys. Is he really going to do this? His momma would throw a fit if she found out what he was doing; is it really, really worth it?

You squeeze his hand back, you have that patient look on your face. You weren't going to make him do anything, you never did. Since the moment he met you on his first day at the call centre, you were the only one who'd been friendly with him straight away. People tended to give him a wide berth these days, which he preferred to the alternative of people saying the all nasty things they're thinking to his face. But not you. No, you'd talked to him between calls, gave him pointers about the software system when he was too nervous to go and ask his supervisor about it again. You showed him where you bought your coffee in the morning and you always hung out together on your lunch breaks. Even when he moved on to Prevo after begging Ronald to give him a job (he'd do all the grunt work, he promised, he just needed something manual to do instead of sat behind that desk all day), you'd kept in touch, saying he was more than just a work friend.

You're definitely worth it, he decides, unlocking his mom's Mercury and getting in the drivers seat.

Corey got his licence back in high school drivers ed, but his momma barely ever let him drive her car, so he'd not had a lot of practice since the day he passed his test. His momma was the worst backseat driver too -- "Corey, check your mirrors," "Watch that pothole," "Careful, Corey, that maniac's about to pull out in front of us". Even when she did let him behind the wheel, and he could count on both hands the times she'd let him drive them home from the grocery store, he ends up wishing she hadn't bothered.

The streets were almost empty as you drove through town. You watched Corey, watched as the street lights illuminated the look of concentration on his face before you passed into another pocket of darkness. There was something in the air that you couldn't quite put your finger on, beneath the almost solemn feeling of being the only two souls in town, there was a tangible sense of good old-fashioned mischief.

You'd brought some CDs along, almost every mix you'd ever burned, so you didn't have to put the radio on. Before meeting Corey, you didn't mind WURG, you kind of liked the variety of genres, and Willy was a character -- he made for good entertainment. After the accident though, Willy's conspiracies about it felt heartless. And once you met Corey in person, eyes fliting nervously around the office while DeVon showed him around on his first day, you knew you'd never listen to another word out of Willy's mouth. Flicking through your collection, you settle on one of your most recent playlists, and the car's built in CD player receives the disc shakily. You keep the volume low so it doesn't distract Corey's focus.

Lover's Lane was on the edge of town, past the rail road and down a gravel track. Without the headlights of the Mercury, you'd be swallowed into the pitch black night. Above the treeline, the radio tower blinks in the distance. There wasn't much of a view from here beyond the cracked dirt, even with headlights still on.

Corey puts the car into park and leans back in his seat. He keeps his hands on the wheel, unsure what he'd do with them if he let go.

Slowly, like you think you might startle Corey otherwise, you reach over and turn the volume up a few notches now, just to set the mood.

Corey's always hesitant to make the first move, no matter how clear you make it that you want him too. That's okay though, you'd seen first hand how difficult Corey found socialising. It was like he was always waiting for the punchline to a joke he didn't understand and didn't trust that the punchline wasn't, in fact, himself.

You place your hand over his on the wheel, wiggling your fingers until he lets you link yours between his. He loosens his grip, turning his palm over so you can hold his hand properly.

"Are you going to kiss me?" you ask, giving him the permission he needs.

He grins, small at first, then spreading wide to dimple his cheeks. He lets out a huffing little laugh, before his lips meet yours.

There's a giddiness to his kissing, the way his hands wander and he hums happily. You've noticed before that he gets like this, drawn out of his torturous echo chamber and caught up instead in the fun of fooling around. In the juvenile counting of bases and mumbled daydreams between stolen cigarette kisses.

"C'mon," you murmur against his lips before you manage to pull yourself away. You smile at him, climbing over the centre console and into the back seat.

Corey follows, his nervous energy having dissipated with his need to keep touching you, and have you keep touching him.

Safely in the backseat, Corey's hands gravitate to your waist, holding you there as your lips reconnect. Soft breaths warming the both of you between open mouthed kisses.

You fumble with Corey's jeans, in no rush to jump ahead as you finally pop the button and unzip his fly. His hips buck as your hand brushes over his briefs.

One of Corey's hands drifts beneath your shirt, tracing along your spine, feeling the blemishes of your back before his thick finger slide work their way beneath the band of your bra. He's hit or miss with how quickly he can unhook it, but he manages it this time. The fastening pings undone, letting the straps slip down your shoulders.

Pulling away feels like an impossible ask, so you stay as close as possible, sharing the same shaky breaths with Corey as you both scrabble to get out of your shirts.

When you're half bare, you latch back onto Corey; lips on lips, chest to chest. He whimpers into your mouth when you palm his bulge, hard and leaking, over his underwear.

All hope of going slow, of making this last, go out the window when you finally -- finally -- wrap your hand around him. All of a sudden it's nothing but heat and want and wetness. He yanks you into his lap, work-rough hands hot on your hips. Jeans come off, dropped into the footwell. His hand goes to your panties, drenching his fingers in slick as you rock against him, and it's not enough. It's not enough -- never enough -- because you can never get enough of Corey.

"Oh fuck," he groans, when he's finally inside you. His arms hug your waist, clinging hopelessly as he gets lost in you, lost in the paradise he can only find between your legs. Corey holds you like you're the last temptation, and he knows without a doubt that he'll never, ever be saved.

Corey leans against the trunk while he smokes (if he does it in the car, his momma is sure to know, he claims), his face rosy in the cherry red glow of his cigarette. His jeans, unbuttoned and a size too big for him anyway, hang low on his hips.

He smokes all the way down to the filter before flicking the butt away, the ember burning bright for just a second before it goes out against the dirt.

Later, when you drive home, you'll roll all the windows down.

[luveline]

Hello! 💕 I love your work!

May I request a small drabble where Roan is at a stage when she's so fascinated with reader's makeup and outfits that Roan wants to copy her mom's style.

Thank you!

thank you for your request!! I know you sent it in April but I hope you can enjoy regardless! dad!eddie x fem!reader, 1.8k

Roan is trying to be respectful. She really, truly is, but this is her chance. She can hear you in the bathroom talking to her dad where he's sitting with his back to the closed door. Eddie hadn't paid Roan any mind when she walked past him into your room, because Roan isn't badly behaved. Well, usually. 

She knows she shouldn't touch your things without asking, but she just loves how you look before you go out with your friends —you'd traipsed down the stairs yesterday afternoon in a casual dress and flats with your make up all shiny and dewy and pretty— and she wants to look pretty too. 

She looks through your make up bag cautiously. She doesn't want to break anything. Eddie's laughing loudly now, and the door must be ajar because your voice is louder. You're telling a story, and Eddie's eating it up, he's practically shouting he's laughing so much. Roan stands up to go and investigate, but then she thinks maybe she won't get to do this again, so she sits back down and picks up a lip gloss. 

Roan jumps as you get out of the bath, a plastic pulling sound like skin rubbed against porcelain ringing down the hall. She's on high alert, and she's scared of being caught, and she definitely didn't think this through. She grabs your make up bag and flees to the wardrobe, throwing open the doors and climbing inside. She shouts the door behind her, holding her breath in the dark. 

You walk into the bedroom, Eddie on your tail. 

"I don't think you should hang out with her anymore," Eddie's saying, his voice still laden with laughter. 

"By that logic I should've stopped hanging out with you a long time ago," you say. You squeal like you've been pinched, adding, "A long long time ago."

"Yeah, you should've. Do you want to go anywhere, or are we putting our pyjamas on?" 

There's thirty seconds of relative silence and then sound. A plastic lid from your body butter, the bedside table lamp being turned on, Eddie coughing. Her dad's been sick this week, a cold Roan miraculously didn't catch. She made sure to give him extra cuddles and he healed up pretty fast. Roan the Healing Balm, he called her. 

"Nowhere," you say finally. A drawer rolls on its hinges. "Did you want to–" 

"Nah, just wondering. We need crackers for Ro's lunch tomorrow and toilet paper, but we can get those in the morning. That smells nice, what one is that?" 

"One you got me, uh, mandarin and something. Ylang-ylang?" 

"Smells good."

"You want some?" 

"I'm okay." 

"No, come here." 

Roan holds your make up bag closer to her chest. She pushes the door gently to widen a slit so she can spy on you. You're in pyjamas now, a towel wrapped around your hair, sockless and climbing onto the bed where Eddie's lying. He sits up. Roan's worried she'll be caught, so she lets the door fall back into place.

Mattress springs shift, and Eddie says, "It's cold." 

"Your arms are sooo long," you say simply. There's a smacking sound like a kiss. "And kissable! Who knew?" 

"I love you," Eddie says warmly. 

"I love you too…" There's another kiss. "You're pretty." 

"You're pretty," Eddie says. 

"Want a hug?" 

Eddie doesn't say yes or no. Roan peaks out through the gap again to find you kneeling at the end of the bed with your arms around his shoulders. He rubs your back, his tattoo looking darker than usual from the moisturiser. 

"Where's Ro?" you ask quietly, kissing the top of his head. "Maybe she wants a hug too." 

"She's being really quiet today," Eddie says, "I think she's up to something." 

You kiss his head again and peel away, brushing a curl from his eyes as you say, "You always think she's up to something. Your dad sense is on the fritz." 

"Probably. Hey, have you seen my big hoodie? I was thinking I'd take her out for a bit, push her on the tyre swing and burn off some mischievous energy." 

"Gonna wear it over your pyjamas?" you ask. 

"Duh." 

"I think it's in the wardrobe. If it's not in there it's in the laundry. I'm gonna go find my girl," you say. 

"I'll be right there," Eddie says. 

Roan holds her breath again as he approaches. She knows she's busted but she can't help trying to hide anyways, burying her face in her knees, hands around her legs, your make up bag lost in the folded jeans beneath her. The door creaks slowly, and Eddie gasps. 

"Oh, holy shit," Eddie says. "Holy sugar. Hey, babe, what the heck are you doing in there?" 

"What?" you ask. 

Roan lifts her head, a pout on her lips that begs for forgiveness. Eddie grins as soon as he's recovered from the shock of finding her, and you're wide-eyed from behind him.

"Well, there's my girl," you say, resting your hand on Eddie's thigh as you crouch. "Watcha doing? Who are we hiding from?" 

Eddie crouches down next to you, and you both look so happy to see her that Roan figures she might not get into trouble after all. Now that she can see, she picks up the stolen make up bag and offers it back to you. 

"I just wanted to try," she explains. 

You and Eddie look at each other. 

"Well, you shouldn't be in mom's things," Eddie begins, gently scolding as you accept the bag.

"All you have to do is ask, Ro," you finish. 

"I want to look like you," Roan says. 

Eddie smiles. "Come on. Get out of the wardrobe, babe, before we close you in." 

You elbow him as Eddie gets his hands under Roan's arms, helping her out of the wardrobe. She doesn't need help, but her dad is super strong and has her sitting on the big bed before she can blink. You follow with your make up bag in hand, sitting down with an excitement that wobbles the mattress. 

"What do you want, babe? Lip gloss?" 

"And the sparkly eyes," she says. They're imperative. 

"Oh, good choice," you say. 

You shuffle closer to Roan and pull out the white square of eyeshadow, flipping it open. There's lots of colours inside, but the best in Roan's opinion is a white that shines baby pink in the sun. Roan tells you what she wants, and you have her close her eyes, leaning in to take her chin into your hand gently. Your breath fans over her cheek. "Keep your eyes closed, lovely girl." 

Roan squeezes them closed.

"Not that closed!" you laugh. 

Roan relaxes. Carefully, softly, you pat eyeshadow onto her eyelids with your fingertip, humming little affirmative sounds under your breath. 

"Good girl," you murmur, blending the ends out with what feels like a different finger. "Just sit still, one more second." 

More patting. Roan tries not to move around, but her excitement has her shaking. After a few more moments you lean back. 

"All done, babe. You can open your eyes." 

Roan opens her eyes wide, the light nearly too bright. Eddie sorts through the stuff in your make up bag, interested, bottles and brushes clinking together. "Oh, hey," he says, lifting a tube up, "this colour?" 

It's the red-pink colour that Roan yearns for. She nods eagerly and you hold out your hand. You unscrew it and bring the applicator to her lips. Roan pouts, which makes you and Eddie smile in tandem. She has no idea why. 

You put a little bit on the centre of her lip and spread it out with your pinky finger. Roan is totally relaxed by your lap. 

"I need the shiny one too," you say. 

Eddie shuffles through your things and procures a clear lip gloss. "This?" 

"Yes, please." 

Eddie hands it to you and you uncap it deftly.

"Rub your lips together, baby," you say, demonstrating. 

Roan rubs her lips together. You brush the clear lip gloss on top of the pink and tell her to rub her lips together again, before smoothing a little bit of moisturiser over her face with kind fingers. You trace the heart of her face down to the chin and beam at her. 

"You look so pretty," you say, falling into the bubbly voice you and Eddie don't use so much anymore. 

Roan's chin dips inward shyly. Eddie pulls a compact from your bag and shows her the mirror part, and her chin quickly lifts. A blush rises to her cheeks as she turns her face one way and then another. 

"What do you think?" Eddie asks. 

Roan nods a bunch of times before she answers, not wanting to tear her gaze from the mirror. "I look beautiful," she says. 

"Yes, you do! You always look beautiful," Eddie says. 

"I need to put my dress on," Roan says firmly. She gives herself one last look in the mirror before sliding off of the bed and out of your reach. 

She races off. 

You and Eddie look at each other while she's gone, two pleased, stickying smiles. "She's so easy to please," you say. 

"No, you just spend the time with her. She loves you." 

You push your hand across the bed toward his thigh and lean on it, looking up at him with a teasing smile. "Want me to do yours, too?" you offer. 

"Definitely. I'll hold off on the dress, for now. I don't think I have one that'll fit." 

You lift your chin for a kiss. "Good idea," you say against his lips.  

"I'd look good though, right?" 

"You'd look amazing. You have the thighs for it." 

"I do, don't I?" he asks, pleased. 

You have your face on Eddie's leg when Roan comes back, his arms splayed across the length of your back, as though you've collapsed in on one another. She does a spin in her second nicest dress. 

"Do I look like you, mom?" she asks. 

You smile like you've won the lottery. "You look a thousand times more beautiful than me, sweetheart." 

Roan laughs and does another spin. Eddie hums unhappily because you're just as beautiful, but he has to admit that his girl looks good. 

"Let me grab the camera," he says. 

For once, Roan doesn't grumble. She poses for pictures and makes sure she has a bunch with you, too, even though you aren't wearing anything so nice as she is. 

"I'm gonna have that one printed," Eddie says after a flash.

"No you are not!" you say.

Eddie and Roan share a look. He's definitely having it printed. 

—

thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed! please think about reblogging if you enjoyed and have the time ♡

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