#ghoul x witch

[eruden-writes]

Graveyard Smash

Just a dirty little tale that happens around Halloween. Fair warning, I did not re-read this or edit. This was all pretty much written in 1 sitting yesterday.

I have ideas for 2 more installments, but not sure if I'll get to them.

A witch pushes a cemetery's ghosts too far and the the resident "keeper" - a ghoul - decides she needs to pay penance.

tw: noncon/dubcon, spanking, caning, restraint.

x.x.x.x.x

Read in full on Patreon.

x.x.x.x.x

Dark and brisk, it was the perfect October night to stroll through a local graveyard. The half moon hung low in the sky, behind blue-tinged clouds. Light pollution made it hard to see the stars, though Tillie had an easy time maneuvering the cemetery. Her cell phone’s flashlight helped, but so did her sense of confidence when walking between tombstones.

Having recently moved to the area, Tillie thought to cross off “meeting the local spirits in the cemetery” off her list. The night was relatively temperate and it was the spooky season, after all. 

As such, she found herself conversing with the spirit of a young woman, Abigail, dressed in 1800s garb. 

An expression of increasing discomfort spread over Abigail’s face as the conversation continued. Until she eventually whined, “I don’t wish to speak to you any longer.” 

“I just have a few more questions.” Tillie raised a finger up, looking imploringly at the ghost. She had already asked about Abigail’s family life and what led up to her death. With each question, the phantom’s frown grew and a distant look sunk into her eyes. 

“Enough! Please!” Abigail spun away, a cold breeze kicked up around her. She floated away from Tillie, her hands pressed to her ears though it would do nothing to abate the witch’s curiosity. 

Undeterred, Tillie followed after Abigail, notebook and pencil poised in her hands. “Please, did you have any suspicions that your husband would kill you? Did you try speaking to your family about it?” 

From a near distance, Mortem watched the scene play out. Though his beaky mask obscured his expression, a displeased aura emitted around him. 

The figure made a motion with his hand and glowing green skeletal arms shot up from the ground. Tillie yelped, dropping her journal and pencil as bony fingers curled around her wrists. The disembodied arms tugged until she was embarrassingly bent over a tombstone, the hem of her dress riding high. Tillie flushed, feeling the cool breeze caress along her legging- covered upper thighs. Her plush stomach cushioned her from the stone, but the overall position was still awkward.

“What’s the meaning of this,” Tillie demanded, struggling against her bony binds. Her boots kicked out, trying to gain leverage against the tombstone. Cold dread drizzled through her as someone spoke up behind her.

“You have disturbed the spirits in their final resting place.” Stepping from his shadowy perch, Mortem neared the witch. He hadn’t meant to drape her over a tombstone, but he couldn’t say he necessarily regretted it as his gaze trailed the curvature of their rear. 

The black dress she wore was relatively short, with lacy sleeves, but she maintained her modesty with her leggings. A necklace with a star and dangling crescent earrings hinted to what Mortem could smell on her. The scent of a witch.

She had traipsed into his graveyard and introduced herself - Tillie Ravenswood, she/her and they/them - to any spirits she could find. Each discussion led to her overwhelming the spirit until they dissipated into the void. Then she would saunter off to find another victim.

“I was merely asking questions!” This was ridiculous! She had simply been asking the spirits questions, which is what she had done in her hometown. Albeit, those ghosts were used to nosy witches, since she and her family had grown up with them. A small bead of guilt swelled up in her chest at that thought. Had she gone too far?

Her struggles appeared to falter, rousing Mortem’s curiosity. No matter, she had already issued damage. Taking another step forward, he continued, “In incessantly doing so, you have upset many residents within these hallowed grounds. A punishment is necessary.” 

“Excuse me?” She jerked, trying to look over her shoulder at whoever spoke. She caught a glimpse of a long dark coat encasing a tall, lithe figure; a mask and wide-brimmed hat reminiscent of a plague doctor. However, with the darkness, it was hard to discern details beyond the silhouette.

It had been a long time since a witch meandered into his graveyard. Even longer still since he felt the stirring of carnal attraction. Perhaps that was merely thanks to the time of the year, when the population at large turned their mind to ghouls and ghosts. Acknowledgement fueled power and power could make a being do unusual, ill-thought things. Which was where Mortem found his thoughts heading. 

Mortem flipped her skirt up, running a gloved spindly finger along the curve of her ass. Tillie squeaked, mortified heat licking up her cheeks. “What do you think you’re doing!”

“Eliciting penance,” replied Mortem, removing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his button-up shirt. He kept his gloves on, tugging on them to be sure they would not slip before setting his hat atop his folded coat.

“Excuse yo—” Tillie didn’t get a chance to finish her defiant statement when Mortem’s hand struck her rump. Her words dwindled into a confusing groan, a mix of pain and pleasure. The sound repeated as he spanked her again and again, his open palm stinging across her skin. Tillie gasped with each hit, squeezing her thighs close together as an involuntary whine wheedled from her throat. 

“Ah, you don’t sound penitent. Perhaps more drastic measures?” Amusement colored Mortem’s tone as he watched the squirming witch.

She didn’t like the cruel smile she heard in the figure’s voice. A second later, her suspicions were confirmed as something blunt struck her fleshy ass cheeks. The breath escaped her in a sharp exhale, her back arching and her head tossing backward. Her toes curled as her legs straightened, unintentionally pushing her rear higher up. 

Mortem gave an amused huff before bringing his cane down against the witch’s rear again. The way she jolted at the impact, a delicious groaning-gasp escaping her, made dangerous feelings swarm through his body. He hadn’t felt so delighted in such a very long time. 

He stepped back, watching her gasp down breaths. Her face flushed a pleasant pink and her legs trembled slightly. On the air, he could taste something heady, something alluring. It made him hungry for more.

In a droll tone, he sighed, “Oh no, you’re enjoying this too much.” 

“I assure you, I’m not,” Tillie panted, though even her own tone sounded uncertain in her ears. She couldn’t necessarily say the pain was bad. In fact, it sent tingles coursing over her body. Her nipples stiffened under the fabric of her bra and heat churned in her center. Part of her didn’t mind admitting to enjoying the treatment, even as she experimentally tugged at the bony hands holding her wrists.

“Another tactic then.” Mortem grasped the tight pants she wore under her dress, yanking the waistband up and over her round derriere. He peeled the leggings and her underwear lower, until swaths of her skin lay bare under his eye. Unable to help himself, Mortem ran two gloved fingers along her slit, excitement pulsing through him as she flexed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” Tillie swallowed, still not entirely sure how she felt about the situation. The spanking and caning, though not on the up-and-up, hadn’t been terrible. The strikes could have been much worse and she still wasn’t sure who - or what - she was dealing with. 

She highly doubted they were a sorcerer or warlock. They certainly weren’t a spirit.

Oooh, no. They did not feel like a wispy spirit or phantom. They were too warm, too firm to be anything incorporeal, Tillie thought. Which meant they had to be a ghoul, which honestly didn’t narrow down the list of abilities or weaknesses. Ghoul had increasingly become a catch-all term for any number of spirits or entities, hybrid or atypical. 

Unaware of Tillie’s assessing thoughts, Mortem leaned over her. His hands slid up her sides, his chest pressed to her back. He palmed both her breasts in his still-gloved hands, excited by how her breath caught. Feeling bold, he tugged the neckline of her dress down, scooping one hand into the cup of her bra. 

Tillie arched into his touch as his thumb skimmed her hardened nipple. Mirroring his words, his fingers dug into her breast as he said, “I will squeeze penance from you yet.” 

At the touch, she exhaled sharply before breaking into a laugh. For whatever reason, she didn’t feel altogether frightened of them. “Are you sure it’s not me who will be squeezing something from you?” 

“Aren’t you cheeky?” Mortem leaned further over, letting his mask of a face hover near her shoulder. His hands slid away from Tillie, unfastening his trousers enough for his arousal to escape.

Just as he moved, a cloud puttered away from the moon, shining fresh light down onto the graveyard. Tilting her head, Tillie got a much better look at her companion. 

As their silhouette had suggested, they wore a plague doctor mask. At some point, they had divested themself of their coat and hat. If there were any other details, she couldn’t see. What she thought was a black bodysuit seamlessly tucked up to the mask and extended below their shirt. Tillie thought she caught eyes in the glass goggle-like structures of the mask, but it was too difficult to confirm.

She couldn’t focus on the thought of his mask for very long as something very firm and very warm wedged between her thighs. Licking her lips, Tillie frantically sought something to say. The ghoul tilted their head, as if amusedly waiting for her to speak.

Tillie couldn’t help herself. She swallowed hard, fighting down a smile as she asked, “Are you a graverobber? Because that’s a big bone you’re smuggling in your trousers.”

It shouldn’t have been possible for Mortem to choke, but the sputtering sound he made came close. He pulled back from the witch, carefully pressing his forehead to the back of her shoulder so as not to poke her with his beaky mask. His hands drew away from her breasts, grasping the tombstone beneath her for support.

“What?” Tillie laughed, her smile growing as she sensed the awkward incredulity radiating from the ghoul. She faintly wondered if her words shocked them out of their horniness.

“I believe,” Mortem began softly, his voice low and stern, “that deserves extra punishment, witch.”

x.x.x.x.x

Read the rest on Patreon!

[whiteboyfight]

Ultimate White-Haired Anime Guy Tournament

can’t read a damn thing on this bracket but it’s a half hour i will never get back.

Round 1

Ginko (Mushishi) vs Neutrophil (Cells at Work)

Scar (Fullmetal Alchemist) vs Killua Zoldyck (Hunter x Hunter)

Shion (No. 6) vs Atsushi Nakajima (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Suzuya Juuzou (Tokyo Ghoul) vs Kite (Hunter x Hunter)

Sugawara Koushi (Haikyuu!!) vs Shogo Makishima (Psycho-Pass)

Soul Evans (Soul Eater) vs .5 of Todoroki (My Hero Academia)

Toshiro Hitsugaya (Bleach) vs Griffith (Berserk)

Near (Death Note) vs Qifrey (Witch Hat Atelier)

Jean Pierre Polnareff (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure) vs Inuyasha (Inuyasha)

Gintoki Sakata (Gintama) vs Noe Archiviste (Vanitas no Carte)

Nagito Komaeda (Dangan Ronpa) vs Archer (Fate/Stay Night)

Kakashi Hatake (Naruto) vs Clear (Dramatical Murder)

Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Kaisen) vs Yukito Tsukishiro/Yue (Cardcaptor Sakura)

Enrico Pucci (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure) vs Kaworu Nagisa (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

Decim (Death Parade) vs Allen Walker (D. Gray Man)

Sesshomaru (Inuyasha) vs Kaneki Ken (Tokyo Ghoul)

Polls go live at 8PM PST tomorrow (2/21)! See you there!

edit: all polls can be found under the "round 1" tag!

[ghouleffer]

Imagine taking off Cooper‘s trousers and these things are hiding underneath

[crypticsalem]

Live laugh love self inserts (it's the only thing keeping me sane)

The black skirt outfit is inspired by a chapter of my fic "Friday I'm in love" so check it out 👀

+ a little drunk Copia doodle singing Abba because obviously he's an Abba fan

[indulgence-is-key]

Anime/manga in a nutshell

btw this is my opinion if you even care

Death Note: guy writes in the same notebook everyday for multiple years

Ouran High School Host Club: girl looks for quiet place to study, lives to regret it

Hunter x Hunter: happy group of friends go their separate ways and things get dark fast

Tokyo Ghoul: guy goes on a date with a girl, he will never be the same again

Pop Team Epic: a show only understood by those who can't focus on something for five seconds

Dr Stone: celery boi counts past a number you can't even image

Mob Psycho 100: nicest person ever + yassified grunkle stan = fighting evil organizaitons and a self conscious middle schoolers thoughts

The Promised Neverland: kentucky fried children am I right?

My Hero Academia: awkward bullied boy becomes gradually stronger over time but the fandom only cares about whether he's straight or not

Fullmetal Alchemist: We summoned dead mom with chalk circle (OMG EMOTIONAL)

Saiki K: unreliable psychic narrator claims to find friends annoying, follows them around on shenanigan's anyway

Little Witch Academia: idk how to describe this one

Jujutsu Kaisen: he's too busy mourning his grandad. nvm he's not

Yotsuba: just nice. happy.

Komi Can't Communicate: girl has everyone simping for her, she still hasn't said anything about it

Orange: you can't fuck up the past, right?

Nichijou: robots, talking animals, yet somehow the real world is portrayed!

Serial experiments lain: everyone talks about the simpsons predicting things but lain is never given the credit!

Neon genesis evangelion: remember how we said nerdy quiet mentally challenged complex characters are the best? Well no their not because this mc gets horrendously mocked all the time!

Watamote: wanna laugh, cry, AND *heavily* cringe at the same time!?

Sailor moon: remember when wearing cute outfits weren't sexualised?

Fruits basket: there is no way to describe this masterpiece

From me to you: horror movie villain X popular boy?

[raindrop-21]

Me and @thatfuckinjester have talked about a human witch Aurora and it brought on this idea:

Ghouls need special medicine when they get sick/hurt, so the ministry employs human witches that can make potions. Aurora is one of those witches. She has everything sorted on shelfs by "G Potions" and "H Potions", G for ghoul, and H for human. Human Phantom who has a bad cold and sneeks into her little workshop. He sees the G Potions and thinks that means "Good Potions" and drinks one. That potion was turn almost-ghoul imps into full ghouls. Phantom passes out and wakes up to Aurora worriedly pacing in front of the bed she placed now-ghoul Phantom in.

When he wakes up fully, he uses his new found tail to wrap around her waist and pull her close to him. His newfound powers gave him a new sense of confidence and maybe a girlfriend.

[midnight-in-town]

Out of all the mangas that u read , analyse and post for, whice one is your favorite?

Hey Anon! Aww, I love so many of them for so many reasons, I am not sure how to answer you... The thing is, I don't necessarily post about series for the same reasons!

Of course #theories is my absolute love in life (like, when doing a secret santa at work, I'll additionnally try to discover who is supposed to give a gift to whom, by collecting clues from what they say and do. If I find out the truth, the person whose secret I discovered is supposed to buy my coffee or breakfast xD And trust me it's ten times funnier when everyone starts doing the same thing because it creates absolute chaos in which everyone tries to send the others on the wrong trail by giving wrong hints, so when the day of the gifts comes everyone at work's like "aahhhhhhh it was youuuu". Very funny, I always have a blast), but fandom's size can factor into how much I'll write about a series.

For example, Majo to Yajuu and Witch Hat Atelier are both great stories with small fandoms here (less than 10 people in it for MTJ), so I like writing regularly about these series to create more content for the fandom!

For the opposite reason, and because the pace slowed down a bit, I don't write a lot about Akatsuki no Yona, despite following the chapters' release every 2 weeks or so. Another example is Berserk, my favorite series ever, but which has a very intense, well informed fanbase on a dedicated forum with a lot of interesting content: so I don't mind answering questions, but I don't necessarily have a lot to write about Berserk despite loving it so much, because almost everything has been said already!

I loved talking about Gangsta. but it's on hiatus; same for Tokyo Ghoul but it's over. I enjoy writing about Spy x Family because I think a good part of the fandom is confusing the currently happy-go-lucky vibes of the series with the real, more subtle and darker tone of the themes and plot and it's nice to see hints of this every now and then.

Finally, I absolutely love discussing about Ao no Exorcist and Kuroshitsuji, which I have been following about 12 years now in both cases, because:

Ao no Exorcist is currently the best on-going typical shonen series for me (tho' I might change my mind a bit once I finally catch up with One Piece, I'm on the beginning of the Dressrosa saga) and I can't wait to see how it all unfolds. It's really one of the few series in which I have absolute trust into Kato-sensei and she can prove me right or wrong any time she wants.

For Kuroshitsuji, I think that, aside from new chapters, I've addressed over 98% of anything ever happening in the series, related or not to the main plot and to the circumstances of the Phantomhive family and I now am waiting patiently (very patiently) for all the answers, updating my very old theories with more hints when I can.

To tell the truth, on the matter of Kuroshitsuji, no offense to anyone, but I feel similarly to the admins from the Skullknight forum for Berserk: I've read each chapter maybe a hundred times at least over the years so I think that, today, I have one of the most objective and informed eye about the series across all of the internet. That doesn't mean that my theories are right, just that I know the canon series better than most of the fandom.

To conclude, I do not have one fave series that I post theories about, I have many, but I'd say that blogging about Kuroshitsuji is one of the most enjoyable experience I have on this site because, over the years, my blog has accumulated a lot of analyses (written by me for a good chunk of it or that I reblogged from other dedicated fans) that cover probably every aspect of the series and can be used to understand the themes, plot and characters of this series, as well as to try guessing what will happen next. It’s like a massive database of theories, very useful for the current arc and for the answers to come. :)

I hope that answers your question! Have a good weekend :))

[skylitcreations]

Hey, guys, do any of you have any artists you want to recommend I follow here? I'd also just love some blogs to follow for things like:

Persona

Genshin

Sailor Moon

Yu-Gi-Oh

Tokyo Ghoul

Detective Conan

Doctor Who

Resident Evil

Silent Hill

Code Geass

FF7

DC Comics (esp Jason Todd)

MCU (Loki especially)

X-Files

Spy x Family

My Little Pony

Witchcraft

Egyptian Mythology

Norse Mythology

Greek Mythology

Philosophy

And lots more but those are the main things I can think of right now. Anyway, my dash is too slow, please give me more content for my doomscrolling habits plzkthx

Please be okay with darker fictional content! I do not want any puritanical thought police around. And if you follow me, be prepared that I may talk about triggering things! If you need me to tag anything, please let me know!

Also please be okay with stoners cuz I totally am one thanks to chronic pain wut up guyyssss

[1800-get-alife]

Hello fellow ghesties that see this, I’m an AP art student who’s topic is “ how I visualize songs I like” and I can guarantee you that’s it literally me telling my ghost OC’s story, I really wanna post the artwork I’ve made thus far but don’t know if I should or not, just want y’all’s opinions that’s all

[undiscovered-horizon]

Die Happy - Sanji x Reader

SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.

WORDCOUNT: ~ 1.3k

Enjoying my work? You can leave me a tip on Ko-Fi

Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"

Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:

Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.

Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:

“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”

But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.

Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.

He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.

Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.

Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.

Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.

“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.

Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.

“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”

Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.

“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”

The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.

“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.

“I know, love.”

It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.

“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.

His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.

“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you. 

Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.

Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.

“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.

Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.

When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.

Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.

[madebycloud]

Melting

wednesday addams x fem!reader — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

summary: you went trick or treating with your girlfriend. warnings/themes: fluff, soft!wednesday (ooc eheh), halloween, trick-or-treating, making out words: 1.8k

'Tis the witching season! 

The whole neighborhood is in a festive mood, with ghouls and ghosts lurking around, kids dressed up as their favorite or the scariest characters. 

Now, there's someone who couldn't care less about all the hoopla. 

You know Wednesday doesn't like to be all sunshine and rainbows, but secretly, you've always wished she would let her guard down and have some fun. 

“It's overrated,” she scoffs. But if there's one thing that can sway her, it's you. 

The nostalgia. You missed those carefree days when your only worry was scoring as much candy as possible in one night. And now you have the perfect opportunity to go back to your child self and relive those memories. 

“Pleeeeeeaaaaase Wednesday,” you whine, dropping to your knees and clasping your hands in front of her. 

She doesn't bat an eye. She just continues to write, her fingers moving across the typewriter. 

“Please baby, please love, please,” you try again, pulling out all the stops—cute silly nicknames, puppy dog eyes that you know she secretly adores. “It'll be super fun.” 

Finally, she stops writing. She lifts her head and turns to face you. She pauses for a long moment, considering your plea. “Fine. But only on one condition,” she starts. “I know it's important to you—so I'll indulge your request. This is just a one-time thing. We won't be making this a habit.” 

“Just... once?” 

“Just once,” she repeats. 

You think for a moment. “...okay.” You nod. “But I'll choose the costume.” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Fine, no funny business. Let's make this quick and clean, understood?” 

“Understood.” You grinned.

—

“Hey there, Mario!” you exclaim with an exaggerated Italian accent while waving your hands around, trying to mimic how he does it. “It's-a-me, Luigi, your lovable sidekick!” 

“It's-a-me, Luigi? I don't know which I hate more—my ridiculous costume or your ridiculous sense of humor.”

Her eyes narrowed as she looked down at the garish plumber's costume she was forced to wear. She even had to wear a fake mustache. “I can't believe I let you convince me to wear this ridiculous costume.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, ignoring the daggers she was sending your way. “Don't worry, no one will recognize you as Wednesday with this get-up.” You winked, but she was having none of it. “Besides, this is just a 'one-time' thing, right?”

She groaned inwardly. “Just make sure you carry this, you have a stronger arm.” With a huff, she hands you the pumpkin. “After all, you're the one who suggested this fiasco, so the least you could do is carry the stupid thing.”

Her hand snaked around your wrist, her grip was so tight you could feel it even through your gloves. 

You both made your way to Jericho, the streets were alive with kids in crazy costumes running around, laughing and shouting as they made their way to different houses. The streets are lined with jack-o'-lanterns and spider webs. 

Suddenly, you spot a house that looks amazing. There are a few children waiting outside, excitedly chattering as they anticipate a chance to fill their buckets with candy.

“Let's try that one,” you say, pointing to the house. “They look like they're giving out some good treats.”

Wednesday just nods and crosses her arms, not seeming interested in going with you to get candies. “I'll just stay here,” she insists.

“Are you sure?” you ask, pausing to look at her for a moment.

She simply nods, waiting for you to get your candies. You give her a quick smile and head towards the house. 

You ring the doorbell and wait for someone to answer. A woman with a warm smile opens the door.

“Trick or treat!” you say, holding your pumpkin out.

However, the woman looks at you with disdain. “Aren't you a little too old for this?”

The smile slips from your face as you realize what she means. But before you can say anything else, she closes the door in your face. You stand there, stunned, staring at the closed door. 

That was rude.

You returned to Wednesday, your shoulders slumping as you held up your empty pumpkin.

She looks at you with an eyebrow raised, as if to ask what happened.

You scratch the back of your neck and frown. She could almost see the smoke coming out of your ears. “She... she said I was too old for this.”

You can tell she's angry at the way you were treated, and you secretly hope she doesn't plan on getting back at the woman for her rudeness. She can't believe the audacity of that woman, as if there's an age limit for having fun.

Still, you don't let the incident put a damper on the rest of your night.

“It's fine, there's still a lot of houses we can try again,” you say, grabbing her arms and looking around for another house to approach.

But people keep telling you that you're too old for Halloween and refuse to give you candy.

Wednesday senses your disappointment and starts coming up with elaborate plans to avenge the people who have denied you treats. She seems determined to make them pay for their deeds, yet you keep trying to convince her to just move on and keep searching for sweets.

Just as you were about to give up, you came across a house with the porch light off, but you could hear giggling coming from inside. 

This time, Wednesday joins you in trick-or-treating.

Together, you knock on the door and a person in a ghost costume stands in the doorway, holding a bowl of candy. 

“Trick or treat,” you say, holding out your pumpkin for a sweet.

Wednesday's stare serves as a warning to the person not to disappoint you or suffer the consequences.

The man hesitates before finally grabbing a handful of candy from the bowl and thrusting it into your pumpkin, his hands shaking with fear.

You thank them, and Wednesday gives you a smile as you walk away. “See? Things aren't so bad after all.”

Wednesday rolls her eyes. “Let's just keep going,” she says, before pushing you forward towards the next house.

—

You were walking back from trick-or-treating, your pumpkin filled to the brim with sweets and goodies. 

“Let's go back,” Wednesday mumbled as she walked alongside you, still holding onto your hand. Her hand slipped into your biceps, yet she hardly even noticed.

You nod, prepared to return home. However, before you can leave, you hear a voice from behind you. 

“Wednesday Addams?!” the boy says in shock, recognizing her beneath the Mario costume. 

“Oh, for Christ's sake,” Wednesday muttered under her breath. She couldn't believe someone had recognized her in her stupid, ridiculous Mario costume. She could swear in her life that she's never felt so stupid.

You turned to see a boy dressed in a brightly colored insect costume, his antennae bobbing as he waved at both of you. “Hey Eugene!” 

Wednesday narrows her eyes. “What are you doing here, Eugene?”

“I came to get some candy!” He replied eagerly, his eyes sparkling, but then his eyes widened. “Wait... is that really you... Wednesday?” he asks, taking a step forward. 

Wednesday clenches her jaw and you stifle a laugh, amused by her reaction. You offer Eugene some candy from your pumpkin, and he excitedly accepts it, thanking you.

“Eugene, can you take a picture of us?” you request, handing him your phone. 

Wednesday snapped her head in your direction, her eyebrows furrowed as she glared at you. She's just about lost it. She swore in her mind that she would never take a picture wearing this ridiculous costume.

You flung your arm around her and gave a peace sign as Eugene held up your phone. You chuckle and give Wednesday's waist a reassuring squeeze.

“Three, two...”

Wednesday knows she will be miserable. But she looked at your smile and realized that, despite her aversion to the costume, she didn't want to ruin your fun. So she reluctantly struck a peace sign, hoping that no one would recognize her under that ridiculous mustache.

“One!” the flash flickers, and the photo is captured. 

She couldn't deny the warmth in her chest as she watched the picture saved to your phone.

—

You realized that your feet were starting to feel tired after walking so much. Eager to rest your tired legs, the two of you made your way over to a nearby bench, tucked away amidst the shadows of the trees. 

Wednesday is now holding the pumpkin-shaped basket full of sweets while you gaze up at the stars in the sky. She eventually pulled out one of the candies and popped it into her mouth.

“Taste good?” You turn to look at her. 

“Tastes like poison,” she teases before popping it into her mouth.

You can't help but stare at her lips. Why did her lips look like they were begging to be kissed?

“Do you want one?” Wednesday asks, seemingly reading your thoughts. 

You were almost too stunned to speak, but a soft “yes” managed to escape your lips. 

Small smile formed on her lips, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. She offered the candy before you swallowed it whole, savoring the sweetness on your tongue. 

A glance at her lips and then back at her eyes told her everything she needed to know.

Before you knew it, Wednesday had leaned in to share the sweet with you, her lips soft and supple on yours, the taste of candy still lingering on your tongue.

When you finally pulled away, you were left weak in the knees and breathless.

Wednesday's lips part slightly, her breath brushing against your cheek. You lean in again, but she stops you with a gentle hand on your chest.

“One condition,” she whispers.

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. 

“I get to choose the costume next year.”

“We're going to trick or treat again next year?” you ask, grinning. “Fine,” you concede, “your choice of costume next year then.”

With Wednesday's permission granted, you lean in for another kiss, this time lingering even longer than before. Your lips lock together in a sensual dance. 

But you pull away, teasing her. “Wait.”

“What now?”

“Well, I was thinking we could dress up as Remy and his human companion, Alfredo from Ratatouille.”

Wednesday's eyes narrow, clearly annoyed at your choice.

“Okay, I admit, that was a terrible idea, but what about SpongeBob and Patrick? or I can go as Squidward, and we can be rivals instead,” you suggest, desperate to find a costume she'll actually like.

She rolls her eyes, but you could already see the corner of her lips twitching up into a small smile. “You did not just suggest that.”

“Oh yes I did.”

“I'm not dressing up as a rat with a chef's hat next year, that's for sure. And you're not going to make me dress up as a sponge either.”

You smirk. “Maybe not, but I'll still find a way to make you dress up as something ridi—”

Before you finish your sentence, Wednesday's lips are on yours once more, drowning out your words. Her fingers glide down your jaw as she draws you in closer.

“That's it,” she whispers between kisses. “You're stuck with me now.”

And you wouldn't want it any other way.

note: me

[sunshine7queen]

The Halloween Party

Synopsis: Halloween has arrived where everybody can dress up as their favorite creature and characters. And today you struggled on thinking what costume to wear this year. With the help of your friends, you finally thought of one that will knock everyone out: to dress as the King of Curses himself. What will his reaction would be?

Pairing: Yuji/Sukuna x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Content Warnings: 18+, full nelson, smut, breeding kink, Sukuna calls her Mistress, rough sex, reader being a dom queen, creampie, soft Sukuna in the end, a bonus ending included!

A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first time I've posted something like fanfic related but this idea has been stuck to my head in the holiday has started. I hope you all enjoy this ^v^ Also, sorry if the smut's not too perfect, it's been a while.

Today was Halloween, the one year where everyone celebrates the spooky holiday by dressing up in costumes and giving out candy.

Speaking of costumes, you were having trouble thinking what to dress as. And the reason is that because Gojo decided to plan out a Halloween party at Jujutsu Tech and of course, he even added a contest for the best Halloween costume.

Every year, you always come up with the scariest costumes that blow everyone away and even scare them too. So right now, you’re hanging out with Nobara and Maki at the mall in the search for costumes. Perhaps this will help you out for inspiration for your costume.

“Any luck?” Nobara asks you, wondering if anything sparks an idea in your head.

You looked around at the outfits, masks, and wigs but nothing catches your attention. You shake your head, “Nope.”

“Well, there has to be something for you.”

Maki then decides to pitch in to help you, “Have you ever thought about dressing as a vampire?”  

“I’ve already done that last year, don’t get me wrong, I love my vampire costume but I want to do something different.”

“Okay then, how about a witch?”

“No, I’ve done that too. And also, that’s what Nobara is dressing for the party.”

“It’s okay girl! We can both match but it’s your decision and I respect that.”

“Thanks Nobara.” You sigh; thinking what to dress as is making you feel exhausted and your friends took notice of this.

“Hey how about we take a break?” Maki suggests, “Let’s get something to eat and we can go look again before the party starts.”

“Sure. We can use a break, my head’s wiped out.” You laugh as they join in as you three make your way to the food court.

Taking a break was a good idea after all as you sip your favorite beverage. “Alright, we still have time but we can talk ideas here in the meantime.”

“Well,” You lean your head back, “I want my costume to be scary this year, something that will scare their pants off.”

Nobara hums as she thinks of an idea. “Something scary huh? I think it would have to be that’ll top off a werewolf, vampire, ghoul or zombie.”

“What could be frightening than them?” Maki asks.

She's got a point there; what could be more frighting and scarier than the classic monsters or legends?

It was at that moment when a smile crept on your face.

Nobara begins to chuckle, every time you make that look; an idea strikes in your head. “Oh! I recognize that look anywhere! What’s your big idea?”

You let out a dark chuckle through your lips, Nobara and Maki weren’t too sure if they should be scared or not by your behavior. Motioning your hands at them to lean closer, they scoot their seats next to you. “Listen, here. This is my idea…”

Whispering to them about your idea, the girls started to grin as you explain your costume idea. They have a feeling that this costume will definitely knock everyone’s socks out.

The three of you returned back to Jujutsu Tech, you told Nobara and Maki to get ready for their costumes so they can help you with yours. Five minutes later, Nobara and Maki came into your dorm. Nobara had on a cute witch outfit with a stuffed black cat in her right arm and holding a broom to her left. As for Maki, she’s a vampire with her hair down, slicking her front bangs back to make it more classic.

“Wow! You guys look amazing!” You gush over their costumes.

Nobara blushes at your compliment, “Aw thank you! Now, let’s get you ready for yours!”

“Let’s do it!” You cheered.

Hours later, it was finally finished. Nobara and Maki couldn’t help but stare at you in awe.

“So ladies, what do you think?” You curl your fingers, twirling them around your wig.

“Wow, I…” Nobara looks at you up and down. “I’m literally taken back right now. You look like a literal queen.”

“I usually don’t compliment that much, but you got my exception.” Maki smirks, showing her fake vampire fangs.

“Shall we get started?”

Meanwhile, outside of the courtyard, the entire place was decorated with lights in a form of pumpkins and ghosts, cutout paper of mini ghosts, a table filled with delicious food and sweet treats, and plenty of games to enjoy.

Everyone else is here, even the students of the Kyoto Sister school are here as well. Yuji is with his friend Megumi, along with Toge and Panda. Yuji decided to be Spiderman, he got his mask off right before the contest starts. Megumi didn’t want to dress up but was forced by Gojo who he eventually put him as a werewolf.

“I think you look great, Fushiguro!” Yuji gave him a thumbs up with a smile on his face.

Megumi’s brow twitches, he wasn’t enjoying this as much. “You know sensei had me wear this.” He crossed his arms.

“Yeah but, you gotta get into the spirit for this party. They’re already in the vibe of it.” He points at Toge and Panda. Apparently, Toge is dressed as Joker from Persona 5 for some reason but Panda told them that he got into it and wanted to try out.

For Panda, he wanted to go as a teddy bear but couldn’t find a suitable outfit in time, so instead he put a bear hat with ears along with a red ribbon tied around his neck.

“Hey, how’s everyone enjoying the party?” Gojo walks up to them, he’s dressed as Jack Frost with a blue hoodie with white linings to make them look like ice, brown pants and white shoes. He even brought a staff to match up.  

“I’m having a great time and you look fantastic, sensei!” Yuji replied.

Gojo smugly smirks as he chuckles, “I always look good in everything.”

“You look like a clown that’s what.” Gojo stares at the eye and mouth that appeared on Yuji’s cheek. Sukuna never understands the meaning of the holiday at all, he thinks that it’s lame to see everyone wearing abnormal outfits.

“At least I’m not stuck in a body as a vessel. Got anything to say to that?” He tilts his head as he still smirks. Sukuna grunts in frustration, but before he could make a comeback at Gojo, his mouth gapes with no words coming out.

“What is it? Cat got your tongue?” Gojo waited for a response but there was nothing but silence. “What’s the matter with him?”

Yuji was about to reply but he looks over his sensei’s shoulder as he got the same reaction as Sukuna.

“Yuji, you too?” Gojo turns around to see what was making his student to be baffled, and as soon as he turns his back around, he starts to chuckle. “Well, I’ll be damned, so that’s why.”  

You enter the courtyard with your friends by your side. You got on a white kimono with a blue obi tied around your waist. Tattoos painted on your face to make it look like his, you even added the extra eyes as well. As for the finishing touch, you put a long pink wig you previously wore from one of your cosplays and red eye contacts to match the entire look.

Smirking at them, revealing your fangs. “Hello, brats.”

Everyone stares at you either in fear or in awe. You head towards Yuji, who’s blushing on how beautiful you look, even though you’re dressed as the guy who bullies him everyday, you really pulled it off.

You drag your press-on black nail, gently on his cheek where Sukuna is. “Shocked, my king? You look speechless.” Tracing his lips with your thumb; he felt shivers crawling up his back. His eye explore everywhere on your body, you got every single one of his markings correct.

You softly chuckled at his reaction, this is the one you were looking forward to. “Until then, see you later, tiger.” You kiss his lips as you let go. He quickly reverts back to his domain, leaving him a blushing mess.

“Are you all surprised?” They all nod their heads, never in their lives they would’ve seen you to be dressed as the King of Curses.

“Why yes, your Highness.” Gojo bows to you. Now he knows who will be the true winner of the contest. “And how about we leave these two lovebirds alone.” Gojo leads everyone so they can enjoy the rest of the evening while you and Yuji can have alone time.

“I was not expecting this at all.” He rubs the back of his head, giving you a closed eye smile.

“I bet and I’m taking a guess that he wasn’t expecting this either.” You nod your head right at the scar under his eye.

“Yeah, none of us did either. You look really gorgeous.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your body closer, having your hands travel up to his chest.

You blush, “Thank you and I think you look really handsome, my hero.” You cup his cheek, leaning into his face, giving him a kiss as he kisses back.

And with that, you won the contest with your costume and as to celebrate this moment, you and Yuji dragged each other to your dorm where he’s sitting on a chair, holding your waist as you ride on his cock.

You made him remove his Spiderman suit, only showing off his firm muscles. You rode him as if your life depended on it. “Baby, I- I think he wants to be out now!” He stammers, continuing his thrusts in your drenched pussy.

You moan softly at his cock hitting every spot. “It’s okay, my love. You can let him out.” He shuts his eyes as tattoos begin to form on his body. And the scars under his eyes, have opened to reveal his ruby eyes.

“What inspired you to dress as me, darling?”

“Well, I had to think which costume to go as and what would be a better idea than to dress as one of the most feared being of the Heian Era?”

Sukuna couldn’t help but smile, he felt his heart beat through his tatted chest. “This is why I fallen in love with you.” He grabs the shoulders of your kimono, pulling it down slowly, revealing your bare breasts. “No bra? Were you waiting for little old me to see this?”

“And what if I did?” You press your breasts on his pecs. Both of you are feeling turned on right now with this sexual atmosphere. He wanted to claim you so badly to ram his cock and fill you with his seed, making you his forever.

“What are you waiting for?” You snap him out of his thoughts, dragging your nails down on his muscles. “Do you want to please your Mistress?” You nip his ear lobe then giving it a lick.

Whatever it is you’re doing, is really making him feral and having his cock inside you, throbbing erratically. Letting out a feral growl, he got up from his seat, holding you in his arms to have your legs wrap around his waist, pressed you against the wall as he gave you harsh thrusts. Moans escaped from your lips, hands gripping on his chiseled back. “Do you love this, Mistress?” He grits his teeth.

“Very much! Don’t stop pleasing your Queen!” The sounds of skin clapping and moans echoing across the dorm. He looks down where a white ring is coated around his cock, he throws his head back, grunting and stares at you again with hazy eyes. “Fuck! Me and our brat are enjoying seeing you in pleasure. Telling me how you look like a goddess and he’s right.” Sweat drips from his forehead to his muscles, glistening by the light of the moon. “I love you two so much.” You cry out, tears run down your face. “We both love you two.” Finally, you both reach to each other’s climax, as he seals your lips with his, drowning every moan and caressing your thighs.

He pulls you away from the wall, slowly removing his cock from your pussy, his cum leaks out as he pushes his seed back into you with his fingers. Sukuna carries you to your bed and pulls down the covers. He gently puts you down as he joins you. He wraps your waist with his arm, dragging his body to you.

“Are you hurt?” Sure he may be rough during sex but he does get carried away at times and doesn’t like seeing you in pain.

“Not at all.” You snuggle closer, staring him with loving eyes.

“You’ve made your Mistress very happy.”

“That I did, my Queen.” He purred.

You two kiss each other again as sleep took over your bodies, cuddling each other’s arms.

Bonus:

The day after, Yuji woke up with markings and bite marks on his body and sees you cuddling him in his arms. He then decides not to wake you up and enjoy the moment with his girl.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy the story! ^v^ Don't forget to comment, reblog and like! <3<3<3

[gutsby]

Nighthawk

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Summary: After your lusty, short-lived relationship with a certain archer goes south, you decide to bring Spencer to the neighborhood Halloween bash to take your mind off things. Daryl isn't so easily convinced of your intentions and decides there's no better place than his motorcycle to show you just how much he misses you.

Warnings: NSFW. Unprotected p-in-v, semi-public fucking on Daryl’s bike and hints of exhibitionism, generally rough, jealous sex. Age gap. Assplay. Angst.

One swig of the witches’ cocktail brew, a couple candy corn jell-o shots, and several spiked seltzers in, and you were starting to have serious doubts about your decision to come out tonight.

You clutched your stomach in one hand and Spencer’s arm in the other. The man guiding you inside tried his best to stifle a chuckle.

“You good?” he asked, nudging you with his elbow.

“Great,” you lied through your teeth.

The two of you were weaving through a swarm of partygoers in the entryway now. A sea of masked faces and shredded costumes came dimly into view, and with the sight of the first goblin ensemble drenched in fake blood, you wanted to vomit. You’d think a community of people plagued with nightmarish walkers year-round would lay off the theatrics when it came to Halloween attire as gruesome and grisly as that, but no. Spencer laughed and clapped the ghoul on the shoulder.

“Abraham, my man!” he greeted, “You’re a vision in red.”

Abraham lifted his mask just slightly to heave a sigh.

“It’s hotter’n H-E-double hockey sticks in this sick contraption. I’m sweatin’ like a hog,” he scowled.

When his eyes had adjusted to the light and he caught a glimpse of you, practically green in hue, his face softened considerably.

“You alright, darlin’? You look ready to blow chunks.”

He wasn’t far off the mark. Your stomach was busy doing somersaults up and down your body, and your brain was on the fritz with a new wave of nausea.

“Need a little water is all,” you managed meekly.

Your red-haired companion nodded and started off down the hallway without another word, beckoning you and Spencer to follow. You passed through the rest of the house with relative ease, amazed at how much Alexandria appeared to have grown and how many of those people were here, in Deanna’s house, for some seemingly inconsequential Halloween celebration. You barely recognized half the faces.

Spencer grinned as he sensed those same people were all turning their heads to follow your path. It was his first time parading Officer Friendly’s daughter around a public gathering—the first time you’d agreed to make it known you two were a tentative “thing” since the messy conclusion of your last relationship—and he was pleasantly surprised to see the effect you had on others.

Never mind the fact you were wearing a white lacy bodice, miniskirt, garter belt and stockings. Paired with the makeshift halo and wings, breasts practically bursting at the seams of your costume, it seemed you garnered more attention than you knew what to do with. You were hot, and you were his, Spencer thought with a superficial sense of pride. He squeezed your hand a little tighter and secretly hoped you’d cross paths with everyone he knew in town, so he’d get his chance to prove it.

The three of you descended the few short steps into the garage, where it seemed most of the music, booze, and bodies had congregated. A smoke machine supplied a thick white mist about the room, and alongside the near-blinding white and purple strobe lights, you had only to cling to Spencer’s side and hope he was still following Abraham.

Suddenly, a red solo cup was thrust in your direction, and you smiled at the sight of water spilling over its edges.

“You’re an angel,” you beamed, standing on tip-toes to place a quick kiss on Abraham’s cheek.

Abraham opened his mouth to speak but was presently cut off by a louder, shouting voice:

“Quit your loose-lipped lolly-gaggin’ with the lady and get your ass over here!”

Eugene was drunk. So very, very drunk. You could tell by the sound of his voice alone.

“Kiss my freckled ass,” Abraham yelled back, baring a toothy smile at his friend as he started to make his way over. Tugging you and Spencer to follow suit.

You shot a worried look over your shoulder.

“Spence, I don’t think I—”

“Sure you can, sweetheart,” Spencer interrupted, already eyeing the white table at the center of the room, “Just drink your water, and you’ll be good to go in no time.”

You doubted you would but downed the liquid nonetheless. With each step ahead, it seemed you were only growing sicker, so you got to guzzling the water fast and just hoped you would be able to keep it together.

Unsurprisingly, the folding table was already crowded with plastic cups. Eugene and Aaron making sloppy pours across the tops with cans of Busch Light cradled in their arms and cracking up at every spill they made. You quickly scanned the group for any unknown, or unwanted, faces and felt relieved not to see Rick, your father, or Daryl, his best friend—and your ex-boyfriend.

That last part your dad still didn’t know about. You wanted to keep it that way.

Today marked six months since you and Daryl had started your ill-conceived affair and two weeks since you decided to call it quits—you know, after one too many occasions where Rick had almost caught you two boning on the sofa and Daryl swore left and right he was going to tell your dad everything, while you begged him not to. You sensed any such admission would be guaranteed to destroy your dad and Daryl’s friendship, so you made him promise not to tell.

Begrudgingly, Daryl had agreed, but he’d hated every minute of it. You knew it was only a matter of time before the whole thing blew up in your face, and eventually, it did.

Fourteen days after you’d broken the man’s heart, here you were, waltzing into a party on Spencer Monroe’s arm. Six long months after you’d kept Daryl your dirty secret, you were flaunting this fabrication of a relationship for all to see.

You knew he’d hate you for it. You needed him to. There was just no other way you could shake his affections—and consequently protect his friendship with your father, along with any last shred of unity in your group—unless Daryl despised you. You knew no surer bet than Deanna’s shitbrained son to accomplish that goal.

At present, Spencer pressed a beer-sodden pair of lips to yours, and you almost recoiled.

“You in, baby?” Nodding toward the drinking game still being set up before you.

You shook your head no.

“She’s in!” Spencer announced anyway. Then, quietly, he leaned in closer to you and said, “Quit bein’ a pussy.”

Defying all logic, he kissed you again. Harder. You reluctantly accepted his tongue in your mouth and feigned a smile when the rest of your group cheered their drunken, congratulatory encouragement around you.

When you pulled apart, you felt you wanted to puke again, this time for reasons unrelated to the alcohol. Then, as if on cue, your eyes fell on a previously undetected member of your party.

Daryl stood across the table now, gaze locked on yours with a look that could’ve killed you twenty times over.

To your horror, Spencer extended his arm across the way to shake his hand. Clearly trying too hard to ingratiate himself with a man who looked like he wanted him dead.

“Daryl Dixon!” he cried, smiling too wide for anyone even half as happy.

Your archer shook his hand and hardly seemed to see him. Disinterest painted plain across his features.

Spencer turned to you next, and you wanted to melt into the floor as he gestured toward Daryl, stupidly:

“Have you two met—”

“Your girl’s too young to play.”

Daryl didn’t even deign to grace you with a look. Spencer forced a laugh.

“You kidding? She’s practically a pro at rage cage,” he returned, pinching you playfully.

Somehow, you sensed Daryl wanted Spencer to shut up even more than you did. The stoic, tight-lipped frown with a set of deadened eyes sealed it for you.

At length, he chanced a look in your direction, and his expression didn’t change.

“Doubt it,” Daryl scoffed, “Better let her sit this one out before her daddy comes and gets her.”

He sure had been singing a different tune when he’d had his cock crammed down your throat a couple weeks ago. Didn’t seem too worried about Rick’s intrusion back then, you thought to yourself.

Before Spencer could respond, the whole table shook beneath you. Eugene was beating his fists against the surface, sending solo cups shaking every which way.

“Hear ye, hear ye—”

“Someone please cut him off,” Rosita grumbled behind you.

“This is the last—I repeat last—chance any one of you gets to join this game of rage cage right here,” Eugene declared, the end of his sentence punctuated by a hiccup.

One of Deanna’s goodie bags went sliding across the table to you. You looked at Daryl, confused.

“This one’s already itchin’ to pull trig,” he said to Eugene, “She better sit this out.”

Daryl then nodded toward the plastic baggie as if to suggest you go ahead and puke, but you flung the thing back at him fast.

“I am not,” you countered defiantly.

“Prove it,” Spencer interjected, useless as a screen door on a submarine.

You turned and saw him smiling ear to ear, oblivious to just how badly you wanted to rock his shit.

“Leave her be, chucklefuck.” Abraham boomed overhead.

“Well now, nobody has to prove—” Eugene paused to hiccup again, “—anything.”

In spite of your friends’ words of support, you felt a twist in your stomach and a familiar heat rise to your cheeks. You were blushing, you knew it, but you simply couldn’t lose out in the face of such a challenge. No matter how drunk and disoriented you were, you wouldn’t let Daryl, much less Daryl and Spencer, make a fool of you now.

You glanced at the handle of Everclear in Maggie’s hands just as she started to mix herself a drink.

“I can take a pull to prove it,” you said, motioning to the bottle.

Everyone who’d heard your suggestion and spared a look to the bottom shelf bottle of liquor made a face. Though piss-poor spirits were certainly no anomaly for your group, it was hardly anyone’s inclination to start chugging stuff close to 190 proof—least of all for folks who didn’t have a death wish or a liver made of steel.

“Fuck no,” Maggie and Daryl said in unison.

“Hell yes,” Spencer supplied just as fast.

So the matter was settled.

Maggie eyed you with an incredulous look when you reached for the bottle but knew better than to stop you after you’d made up your mind. Before you knew it, you were holding the thing by the neck and struggling, at length, to ignore Rosita and Abraham’s pleas over your shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid.”

“You’d be better off swallowing a bag of dicks dipped in Drano, darlin’.”

Even Daryl was watching you with wide, desperate eyes, silently pleading with you not to take the pull.

You would’ve gladly relented then, dropped the handle back on the table and stepped away without another word, but there was something in your brain telling you you needed to see this through. Whether it was self-sabotage or simple, drunken stupidity, you couldn’t be sure, but you probably wouldn’t care much longer.

You tipped your head back and flooded your mouth full of the grain alcohol.

Shortly after, a spasm in your stomach told you, without a shadow of a doubt, you wouldn’t be swallowing any of it.

You dropped the bottle and bolted out the door. Before you’d made it one step outside, you were already spraying a cloud of Everclear in the air, along with every food content and bodily fluid residing in your stomach. You dropped to your hands and knees in the grass and hurled like you never had before.

You closed your eyes and dug your fingers deep into the dirt below, desperately wishing you weren't wearing white. Convulsed in your tight corset and hoped this process wouldn’t be too painful to endure.

When you felt someone’s hands start to gather your hair in a ponytail behind you, you surmised you might not be so lucky. You spit on the ground and tried to shake them off.

“Get fucked, Spence,” you hissed.

The hands didn’t flinch from your hair and instead pulled it tighter between them.

“I said, get—” you struggled at the last, trying in vain to buck off whoever was above you. You cursed under your breath when it seemed clear they weren’t planning on budging.

“If this is how ye treat yer boyfriend, I’m glad ye dumped me,” a voice said with some amusement.

You groaned into the grass below you, eyes squeezing shut in disbelief,

“You don’t know the half of it.”

Daryl loosened one hand from your hair to start rubbing circles in your back. When you retched again, he moved his palm even more softly.

“I think I know ye well enough to say ya shouldn’t be chugging Everclear to prove a point,” Daryl said.

You didn’t have anything to say to that. He was right.

After one more pitiful heave, you started to struggle to get upright and eventually onto your feet. Daryl looped an arm around your waist and helped you up.

Your mind was reeling and your stomach was steeling itself against another potential onslaught of convulsions. When Daryl turned you around and steadied you in front of him, though, all concern for your current predicament ebbed gently from your mind. His blue eyes seemed to study every inch of you.

“Do you hate me now?” you asked abruptly.

You felt stupid for asking as soon as you said it. But then, to your surprise, Daryl smiled. He placed a hand on either side of your head and tilted it up to his.

“Do I look like I hate ye?” he asked.

Perhaps owing to your state of intoxication or the way Daryl made you feel when there was little more between you than a few inches and ample opportunity, you actually looked him up and down. Trying to detect any trace of hatred or the least bit of annoyance there but coming up with nothing. He started stroking your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs.

The memories and the feelings all came flooding back faster than you would’ve liked, but there they were, and there he was, standing tall and tame and perfectly blameless in this situation you wished you hadn’t shot to shit two weeks ago. You suspected if he’d been looking at you any differently that night, it was simply an act of self-preservation on his part; no number of dirty looks or disparaging jabs could mask the fact that he couldn’t hate you if he tried. One warm look from those wide, placid eyes turned your stomach inside out and made you ashamed you ever left him in the first place.

You weren’t sure who started it, but your lips were back together in seconds, placing hot, frantic kisses all over the other.

“Did you miss me?” you mumbled against his mouth, in between a barrage of kisses.

Daryl’s hands traveled down your back and squeezed your ass, prompting you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist.

“More than you fuckin' know,” he groaned as he slid his tongue between your lips.

Quick came the mind-numbing rush of intimacy in secret, that lovely, electrifying feeling of doing something you shouldn’t. It took no time at all to get reacquainted with that addictive sensation—you felt yourself lean into it even more this time around. You slipped out of his arms and back onto your feet, ready for more of him.

“We can’t—” Daryl started, out of breath already, “—keep doin’ this, honey.”

“Yes, we can,” you returned quickly. Reaching for his belt while your pupils widened with lust.

You made the few familiar maneuvers to undo his buckle, button, and fly, and when you palmed him over his boxers, he moaned.

“What happens when your daddy finds out, hm?” Daryl managed through gritted teeth.

“If he does,” you corrected him.

“When he does.”

You sighed, frustrated. Daryl sure wasn’t making things easier on you.

“What do you want me to say, D? That I—I can just come clean and tell him his best friend’s been bangin’ me for the past six months? You know he’d skin you alive,” you said, your voice a little less kind than you intended.

It was the truth, though.

Like clockwork, Daryl took you back in his arms and carried you clear across Deanna’s yard, toward a tiny shed in the back. You snuck a look over your shoulder and saw his old, trusted motorcycle propped up against its siding.

When he placed you on the wide leather seat, you knew this fight was far from over. You kissed again, anyway.

“I’ll tell him myself then.” Daryl pulled off of you and ran his hands up your stocking-covered legs.

He rubbed them up and down and up again until his fingers faltered at the edge of your garter belt, secured snugly across the tops of your thighs.

“Or we can tell him. Together,” he rejoined, calmly dropping a hand between your legs.

Your breath caught in your throat. You were already so sensitive, soaked through your panties and ready to take him whole. You whined when he swept his thumb over your clothed heat and clamped your thighs in defiance when he started to rub you up and down.

“I need you now,” you moaned.

Daryl didn’t bother concealing his smirk and just reached back to readjust himself—toying with your attention while you waited for him to take his cock out fully.

“No foreplay, huh?” he mused aloud as he eased his boxers down, “Must’ve been missin’ this cock somethin’ awful.”

You nodded without a second thought.

You were physically salivating at the sight of him. Watching him pump himself firm in one hand and brush your cheek with the knuckles of his other in a gentle touch.

“My baby won’t mind gettin’ stretched out again?”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Promise not to cry?”

“Uh-huh.”

He was teasing you now. He’d seen your wide, listless eyes drink in the sight of him and couldn’t resist.

When he told you to bend over the seat of his bike, you obeyed in an instant. You planted your palms on the cushion, stuck your ass in the air, and practically wiggled it for him there.

“Like a bitch in heat,” Daryl growled just loud enough for you to hear.

He took your ass in both hands and spread yourself just wide enough so he could see the leaking, dripping mess along the slit of your panties. You sighed when he pried your underwear off a second later.

Daryl’s idea of “skipping” foreplay still wouldn’t be complete if he didn’t tease you to the point of orgasm at least once or twice.

True to form, he leaned in and placed a kiss over your unclothed core, and your knees almost buckled. He pushed his tongue up your slit, circled your clit, and dragged it all the way down past your pussy to the point he was nearly veering into uncharted territory for you both.

You gripped the bike below you and moaned out loud.

“Daryl, baby,” you pleaded with no motive in particular. You didn’t know what he was doing, you just wanted him to keep doing it.

“Want me here?” Daryl asked, his thumb sliding to that same delicate spot.

You pushed your hips back into him in a wordless but enthusiastic answer in the affirmative. Daryl grew even harder.

He knew you weren’t ready for that just yet, knew he wanted to make that first-time experience in your other hole a little more sentimental than taking you over his bike with little to no lubrication—but the thought of the future endeavor excited him nonetheless. He peppered a couple more gentle kisses between your legs before standing up.

You whimpered at the loss of contact and almost turned around to say as much when he reappeared behind you, this time pressing the head of his cock between your folds.

“How bou’ here, honey? Can I fuck ya here?” he asked, all sweet words and civility when it came time to fuck you stupid.

“Y-yes, Daryl, yes,” you supplied your consent in a second.

“Then be good for me while ye take it, okay, doll?”

Before you could answer, Daryl’s cock was already starting to split you open. Soft, slow, and tender, with a stretch that made it feel like your first all over again, you both moaned at the feeling and rolled your bodies into one another.

Two weeks apart and you were all but fiending for an orgasm like he hadn’t been inside you for a year or more. Judging by the sounds Daryl made when he bottomed out, he was right there with you.

He dragged himself out to the tip and plunged back in, gripping your hips like they were the last thing holding him to earth. Then dropped his head back and groaned when you pushed yourself back to start meeting his thrusts.

“Ye feel too fuckin’ good,” he grunted, relishing the sounds of his balls slapping your ass with each bounce.

Your nose was buried somewhere between the seat and your own trembling fingers, scarcely breathing more than you could manage between each moan of his name. He loved you like this, all bent out of shape with your brain devoid of any other thought but his cock. He ran a finger over the pale, feathered wings of your costume—the ones that mirrored those emblazoned on the back of his vest—and couldn’t help but smile.

Just when you clenched and sensed you were dangerously close, Daryl hoisted you back onto your feet. Pulling out for a moment to switch positions and take you in his lap, now straddling him over his bike.

You sighed at the new sensation and smiled now that you could see him face-to-face. Daryl grinned right back and took your lips in his for a couple quick kisses.

“M’perfect girl,” he hummed, sponging kiss after kiss across your skin in sloppy, haphazard fashion.

You tipped your chin back and reveled in his gentle affections, moving your hips over him a little faster now.

“Gonna cum f’me? Show me just how good I’m making ye feel?” Daryl prodded, eyes alight with lust.

You pressed your forehead to his and nodded. Breaths coming out more ragged and strained than ever, you felt Daryl lift his hips and start fucking into you a little sharper, grip your sides a little less gently and just start giving it to you hard and fast and senseless so you’d be spilling over him in no time at all.

You were a mystery to him in many ways, but this realm was not one of them. Daryl knew just the right angle to take your soft, sensitive spot—strike it over and over and over again so you were clenching tight around him, begging him not to stop—and in a matter of seconds, you both got what you desperately wanted.

With one final squeeze around his member, you reached your peak and screamed his name, fucking him back with every vicious thrust he gave you. Then, try as he might to hold it in, Daryl grew just as oversexed and sensitive, shooting his load in you moments later.

The two of you rutted and moaned and clutched each other tight as you trembled through your highs. With Daryl’s warmth spreading deep inside you, you would’ve liked to stay this way forever—maybe rest in each other’s arms long enough to rally for rounds two, three, and four, if not more. But at present, you were content just to hold him.

A dull thump of music echoed from Deanna’s house. Daryl eyed you up and down, seemed set on asking if you’d like to go again, but took you by surprise with another question entirely.

He pulled you tight in his lap so his lips were close to yours. Sank his fingers into the flesh of your sides and said, ever casually:

“Ready to tell Rick?”

[pupsmailbox]

GOTH ID PACK

NAMES ⌇　abby. ace. addam. alister. amelia. amoret. ange. angel. angelo. anubis. arch. archette. ash. aslan. aspen. astor. astoria. astrophel. atticus. axelle. azazel. azrael. bael. bat. batsy. bella. bellatrix. blade. blair. blanchette. brahms. branwen. cain. callan. calliope. cannibelle. caskeite. casketta. caskette. caspian. celeste. celestia. chaos. charlotte. cherry. chira. chiraelle. chiro. chiroptairre. chiroptelle. chiropteranne. choir. christian. cofette. coffin. coffine. constantine. corbin. corpse. crimson. crow. crowley. damian. damien. demonesse. divina. dorian. draven. edgar. elatha. elijah. elix. elwin, elwin. elwood. ember. emmaline. etienne. evan. evangeline. eve. faith. forest. forrest. frill. frille. frilleine. frilliette. frilly. genesis. ghost. gothita. gothitelle. gothitess. gothitesse. grey. gwen. gypsy. hades. hawthorne. hecate. hemlock. imortalle. imortella. iris. israel. jakob. jet. jett. johnas. josiah. judas. kain. kane. kedi. keir. lacey. laciene. laciette. lazarus. leo. lilith. lilithe. lolita. lucid. lucien. lucifer. lucius. luscious. lynx. maeve. malice. mana. martyr. max. melancholy. merle. micah. michael. misery. mordred. morris. mors. morte. mortis. mourge. mourgette. myrette. nightshade. noah. noctre. nocturne. noir. obsidian. oleander. omen. onyx. orion. orpheus. ozul. ozzy. prince. prophet. raven. ravenie. raveniette. rook. rowan. ruby. saber. saint. salem. samael. samuel. scarlet. secrette. seraph. serenity. shilo. shiloh. silas. silver. silvester. skelly. skulliene. skulliette. skully. sorrow. sylvester. syn. thorn. thorne. tobias. tommy. trix. umbriel. valkyrie. valo. vervain. vesper. victoria. ville. violetta. vito. vlad. woundie. zeon. zephyrine.

PRONOUNS ⌇　abby/abby. ae/aer. ash/ash. bat/bat. bleed/bleed. blood/blood. book/book. bug/bug. burn/burn. chain/chain. chap/chapel. chill/chill. claw/claw. cloud/cloud. cob/cobweb. cof/coffin. coffin/coffin. corps/corpse. creep/creep. cri/cross. cro/cros. cross/cross. cross/crosse. da/dark. dae/dae. dae/daem. dark/dark. decay/decay. dee/dark. des/despair. devout/devout. div/divine. dust/dust. echo/echo. edge/edgy. en/envie. fae/fang. fang/fang. fe/fear. fie/fiend. fog/fog. fri/frill. frill/frill. ghost/ghost. ghoul/ghoul. gore/gore. goth/goth. goth/gothic. gra/grave. grave/grave. ha/haunt. halo/halo. hie/hiem. ho/holy. holy/holy. horn/horn. hx/hxm. hy/hym. ink/ink. lace/lace. lae/lace. lost/lost. mist/mist. moon/moon. net/fishnet. ni/night. night/night. null/null. par/parasol. parasol/parasol. pray/pray. pray/prayer. proph/prophet. ro/rose. rose/rose. rot/rot. rust/rust. sac/sacrifice. saint/saint. scar/scar. shx/hxr. shy/hyr. si/sinister. sin/sin. sku/skull. skull/skull. snake/snake. spider/spider. spike/spike. sto/storm. stud/stud. thou/thorn. thron/thorn. thxy/thxm. vae/vaer. ve/ver. velvet/velvet. vo/void. whis/whisper. whisper/whisper. witch/witch. wood/wood. x/x. xae/xaer. × . ♠️ . ♣️ . ⚰️ . ⛓️ . 🌑 . 💀 . 🕯 . 🕷 . 🕸 . 🖤 . 🥀 . 🦇 .

[crypticsalem]

Read the new chapter here ✨

I bestow this dark academia wet dream upon you.

[citruslullabies]

Hello!

My name is Flaire, I'm a writer on tumblr

If you want to follow my main Tumblr for humor, it's @flaireingsparks

And to ask me questions, go to @askcitruslullabies

Fandoms I'll write for

Hazbin Hotel

Poppy Playtime

Healing the Sun - Dogday x reader Our Warm Bed - Dogday x reader Second Chances - Dogday x reader You Saved Me, So I'll Save You - Dogday x reader A Flowery Scent - Dogday x reader Professionalism - Dogday x reader Weedy Paradise - Catnap x reader It's Raining Cats and Dogs - Dogday x smiling critter!reader Orange and Purple Go Well Together - Catnap x Fox!reader Ears Ringing - Dogday x reader Your Saving Grace - Dogday x reader

Passive Aggression - Dogday x reader

Hiding from you only to hide with you - Catnap x introverted!fox!reader

Sheep Herding Dog - Dogday x lamb!mascot!reader

Cat Fight - Catnap x reader

Tear-Stained Blankie - Dogday x grieving parent!reader

Caramel Apples, Who Doesn't Love Em? - Dogday x witch!smiling critter!reader x catnap

Get Me Out of This Thing - Dogday x reader

Im Sorry - Dogday x reader

New Beginnings - Dogday x reader

You're Not a Monster - Dogday x redeemed villain!smiling critter!reader x Catnap

Leg For a Leg - Dogday x reader

Cuddle Time - Dogday x sick!reader

Five Nights at Freddy's

Soul Eater

Count the Stars - Soul x Blackstar

Annoying You - Maka x Blackstar

Should've Known Better - Spirit Albarn x reader

Glitter and Guts - Spirit Albarn x Franken Stein

Bitchy Witchy - Marie x Blair

Girl to Girl - Tsubaki x Maka

Tokyo Ghoul

Investigations - Tokyo Kirishima x investigator!reader I Can't Lose You - Tokyo Kirishima x human!reader

Big Puppy - Dogday x reader

I Did it For You - catnap x fox! smiling critter!reader

Spiderman: into the spiderverse

Arachnophobia - Miguel O'Hara x reader

Rules

No NSFW requests (as in smut, gore is fine)

No incest

No pedophilia

No spamming

I. Do. Not. Write. For. OCS. Not unless it's a gift for a friend

Please come enjoy your time with me, and send plenty of requests 🍵