#the crooked kind <3333

[heartpascal]

helloooo!! i am in love eith your fics and i wanted to as if will you be doing more drabbles for "the crooked kind" like how you did last time??

i am definitely open to the idea!!! i don’t currently have any ideas for the crooked kind drabble but if you have anything from that universe you’d like to see then feel free to send it in!!! i’ll always see what i can do :’)

although if i ever think of any fluff drabbles it’d be most likely in that universe LMFAO probably the one with the most potential for happiness i think

[reshinless]

Hi hi! Ive read some of ur work and literally salvating rn for kinich stuff GAUGH!

So im here to post in a request for gn (or fem) afab reader x Kinich

Basically kinks you think kinich would have and asking reader to let him indulge in those kinks of his <333 (pls let it end with reader being fucked outta their mind)

If ur not comfortable / not open for request feel free to ignore this!

Much love,

Kichi

──── take your shirt off!!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ synopsis. honestly, he himself can't decide what he likes more.. fucking your hole more, or lapping up what he can from it!

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ pairings. kinich x gn!afab!reader/fem!reader (i use a lot of fem terms here, so sorry :(

⠀ ۪ ⠀✧ director's notice. millionares <3333

in a sense, he didn't really have a favorite. i mean he liked whatever you did. he just observed while you both fucked and experimented to see what you liked the most.. but it seems like you don't really know yourself. you arch your back all the same, doesn't seem like you have a favorite either!

oh but in all honesty, you could say his kink was you. he never thought about making love with anyone else, and you're the only one he's ever thought of getting dumb on his dick. so much for that!

kinich is and has always been a straightforward man. if there's something he wants- he'll take it. and that attitude didn't change even in intimate times. in times where he thinks you're about to cream on his fingers, something tells him to slow the tempo of his fingers.

"m- mmf ffuck, kin i'm g'na-" or maybe he favored the sounds you made when he ate you out. entangling the taste of your cunt on his tongue to mix with his saliva, you could feel the grasp on your thighs tighten more. rolling his tongue into your folds, he could hear the way you'd whimper, and groan, pushing his head further into the junction of your thighs.

kinich loves giving nicknames, and having them. hearing you call him 'kin' on its own was already one of his biggest turn-ons. please keep calling him that!!

loving the way his tongue dipped into your sex, you could feel your body instinctively arching your back. you tried to close your legs, but he just as easily pried them back open again, his gloved palm kept your inner thighs squished against his face.

"ahhn- kin' don' stop pleasef.." you felt yourself shriek to the man in between your legs. maybe he liked it better when you begged him to overstimulate your hole while he licked your clit.

your hands were buried in the messy locks of his hair. chasing your high as you felt it pool in your stomach, building up faster than you expect.

you arch your back against his digits, letting it curl against your velvety walls. huh, you looked so pretty like that. a little too pretty for his own liking. wonder what caused the tent in his pants..

flopping you onto your chest against the mattress, he blindfolds you with his headband from earlier, rough palms scatter to the opposite sides of your hips, bringing it up to his shaft.

you could only imagine from the feeling, his tip pressing against your folds. pushing himself faster than usual nights, it felt like he was ramming into you.

oh it was that necklace he bought you with his initial on it. you could even see it from behind, his chest presses against yours as he leans down to fit his head in the crook of your neck just to watch it bounce on your chest.

gosh you were so adorable like this, your eyebrows forever furrowed as he plunged it deep inside you. "npmh- kin- ahhn- wan' haah- more!"

kinich who gladly obliges, each time he penetrates you, he makes sure to really grind into your cunt. make sure you feel everything you want to. he just wants you to feel good; his orgasm is a bonus!

it could be the cute little look you gave him, pleading with your eyes as he took off the blindfold away from your view. now instead- tying your hands together, and gently flipping you over onto your back- putting you in some kind of.. mating press?!

he pinned your tied hands above your head, merciless thrusts, even deeper penetration from earlier. damn how big was it really?! it almost felt like you were getting impaled with the way he hit your g-spot so well.

kinich who loved to make eye contact with you during moments like this. even if you can't keep up the consistency; he knows he can, as long as he gets to observe such a pretty face. getting soo corrupted from his cock <33

"that's right baby, moan as much as you want.. tell the neighbors how much you love this cock inside you." he cooed into your ear, only hurrying his thrusts inside you. before you can feel it, you've already creamed onto his base. making it all the more easier for kinich to penetrate you better!

kinich loves to praise! loves praising how well you take his dick, cuz he knows how big it really is. and seeing your hole swallow it hole in one go? if that isn't deserving of his words of acknowledgement, what is?

he grunted through his words, working through each thrust surprisingly rough. continuously switches paces unconsciously, accidently goes really fast then slow to grind into your precious spot. "s'good.. taking me like royalty.." praise whispered from a low raspy voice from your lover's throat exits as he leans in to get a better angle of your pretty face.

"ah.. uh.. ffuck.. s'tight.. this pussy's mine right?" you felt yourself cumming again, squirting. to kinich though; this was his own sign to continue till he came (asked you for consent first cuz this is all for you anyway.)

"f- fuuuckk g'na cum inside you, sweetheart- ahh sshit..!!"

kinich loves getting to know the fact that you're his, and he's yours. he'll say it as many times as you want; his cock was for your pleasure!

but kinich's aftercare game is insanely good, not something you'd expect if this was a hookup- but it wasn't. he made sure you were okay afterwards, asking you if you ever felt uncomfortable throughout any of it.

let him know if you didn't like some of the stuff he did; this was your first time with him after all, and only the best should come if ever after you'll make love again (which will most likely happen.)

he'll clean you up himself, and make sure you're well rested for the next day. will not accept any argument, will cuddle with you all night- hugging you from behind, and scattering plentiful of kisses every now and then on your shoulders.

[st0nesnglitter]

PLEASE expand more on the Snowjanus/Reader stuff. I’ve been looking far and wide for that exact scenario, you’re a godsend

Thank you darling <3333 I’ll do anything after getting some compliments

I also had this thought.

Both Coryo and Sejanus had such nice, pretty curls. Like the most gorgeous locks of hair you’ve ever seen. And it always felt so soft between your fingers when either of their tongues played with your pussy.

So when you see these gorgeous men with their curls shaved off? Okay, at first it’s hot. It gives them such an authoritative aura, hard angles of their faces accentuated with the lack of soft strands. Even Sejanus’ sweet smile seemed to have a glint of something more dangerous.

But when Coriolanus pretty face is in between your thighs, icy blue eyes studying your every reaction to his movements, frustration sets in. His tongue is lapping at your cunt, prodding into you in an attempt to memorize your taste, and his slutty nose is bumping against your clit. And just as your hands should be met by a mess of snowy white curls you just feel itchy, tiny strands.

“Fuck!” You moan, some pleasure mixed in the frustration, “stupid buzzcut.”

Coriolanus is kind of enjoying your desperate tantrum, your eyebrows knitted into a gorgeous frown. Your displeased mewls mixed with the wet squelch of his tongue is going straight to his cock.

Someone else isn’t as sadistic though.

“Aww, don’t have anything to pull, sweetheart?” Sejanus coos in your hair, voice almost genuine as his big hands splay over your arms.

Your back is against his hard chest, something even harder poking against you, and he’d been occupied with kissing your neck and décolletage. But now with your whines overpowering your moans, lips pulled into a ridiculous pout, he’s pulled his face away from the comfortable crook of your neck to observe the situation.

As Coriolanus slides his hands under your ass, grabbing at the fat to pull you flush against his face, your desperation grow. And poor Sejanus can’t take it.

“Here, darling” he says as his hands grabs yours, “squeeze as hard as you want to pull Coryos hair”.

You hear a disgruntled mumble from your thighs, Coriolanus’s mouth leaving you for a brief moment.

“Spoiled slut.”

[kazucafe]

⌗ genshin boyfriend hcs.

characters: diluc, kazuha, xiao, thoma, zhongli, & venti x gn!reader

genre: fluff, very tiny hint of angst

author's note: allow me to indulge in my genshin men brainrot <3 if you enjoyed reading, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated :']

diluc ragnvindr.

a gentleman, is always polite with his gestures.

if you visit him while he's on his shift at the tavern, he'll walk to where you're seated and greet you with a kiss on the forehead.

"hi, love." yeah *swoons*

would drop everything in the blink of an eye if you asked him to.

there will be at least one day when you'll be spending your time with him horseback riding and he'll sit behind you and help you control the reins. <3

he comes home late at night after he's finished patrolling the premises undercover, and opens his room to you having fallen asleep awaiting his return.

plants a gentle kiss before proceeding to lay down and holding you in his arms. he likes to nuzzle into the crook of your nape.

kaedehara kazuha.

will write poems for you <3333 will also leave handwritten love letters for you to find.

probably has secret spots where he always loved to rest whenever he was alone, but nowadays, he shares these places with you bc he'd be the happiest man alive if he had two of his favorite things at once <3

camping and stargazing dates >>

he would introduce you to his family (if he had one)

you’d find that they’d already heard so much about you and have been waiting to meet you!

xiao.

a lot of the time, xiao's days will consist of fulfilling his duty to honor his god and protect the people of liyue.

but no matter how busy he can get, he will not hesitate to rush to your side if you so much as whisper his name.

if you ask for something simple like wanting a hug or giving him a kiss, he'll look away and grumble, "you shouldn't call me for such a mundane request."

it's funny he says that when he still complies and sends you a look, silently hoping you'll give him another kiss.

make him wear a flower crown !?

if you successfully persuade him to get some rest, he'll sleep on your lap or lean on your shoulder.

rest assured that the nightmares he dreads to face each time he closes his eyes will never make an uninvited entrance. not as long as you're by his side.

thoma.

HE !! WILL !! COOK !! FOR !! YOU !!

his schedule is packed, but he'll always make time for you. if he has only a five-minute break, he'll immediately look for you, even if neither of you have anything to do.

if you get sick, he's the best person to take care of you.

he worries a lot :( will probably nag your ears out, but that's fine because regardless of how heightened his emotions are at that moment, you can clearly hear the softness of his tone. that's how you know he loves you. <3

zhongli.

another gentleman, always walks you home

IS SO GENTLE and will greet you by kissing the back of your hand

enjoys sharing his thousands of years' worth of memories with you

he's not one for extravagant things; his ways of showing affection are subtle but consistent and never fail to tug at your heartstrings.

loves travelling and tasting different kinds of wine with you

isn’t it just so pretty to think maybe you could live forever by his side?

venti.

also very doting <3 always ready to shower you with hugs and kisses

he'll serenade you every night because he says he wants "to win your heart over and over again" and remind you that he belongs to no one else.

he'll take you with him everywhere he goes, letting you touch the clouds as you ride on dvalin's back.

he's right beside you as you fall asleep at night, looking at you with so much love, like you're the most wonderful thing that's ever happened to him.

and you are.

he thinks you’re the closest thing to freedom he’s ever been.

and he wonders what he's done to deserve all the happiness you've made him feel.

[greg-montgomery]

Okay so absolutely loving your writing sm <3

So I had this idea while, of course, scrolling down the aaron x reader tag so like you dont have to write it if you dont want to but i wanna throw this out here bc otherwise itll stay stuck in my brain

But like reader who is just,, incredibly shy? Like in social situations they put up a front and you would never expect them to be shy because theyre very present and speak up often despite almost blending in the background when quiet. But its a whole other story at home and such?

Like, Aaron notices and first thinks theyre uncomfortable with him but he slowly realizes that this is like, their love language ig and showing vulnerability? Quiet time, acts of service and such yk? Like, they always put up a front and to drop that (not entirely ofc but a decent amount of it) is just the highest form of trust bc theyve been ridiculed for being shy? And the shyness is much more present in the bedroom, especially when he praises them they just get even more shy and hes just so so gentle :(( like asking if theyre okay, going slowly and asking to see them when they hide their face but never forcing them to and just like praising them when they do and the praise kink of them just sticks its head up and its just the purest form of being together? Like, its not rough but gentle and its soft and theres really no other word than making love for it and its all just :(( and the aftercare the man would provide is just AHHH😭❤️

Oh dear im so sorry but i got sucked into the fandom and got obsessed by hotch and then your writing so- this is so long so imma shut up now but i just needed to throw it out there tbh before id explode from all the hotch ideas i have in my mind that im not writing myself or giving to any writer bc what if they think the ideas are weird or too long like rn- but anyway imma shut up have a nice day/night and hydrate <3 (also you might see more of me if you dont mind long ass rants in the middle of it like this one- if you do mind just tell me to shut up im not gonna be mad or anything <3/srs)

-🧽

my sweet sweet 🧽 anon <33 this took me a while to write i'm sorry!! i hope you've been well!! i think about you a lot and i haven't forgotten the kind words you had sent to me <3 i hope you enjoy this!! (and ofc i don’t mind long rants i LOVE talking about aaron <3333)

nsfw - minors dni

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

“Can I, honey?” you heard Aaron’s words as he wrapped his hands around your wrists.

You had been covering your face as you usually did when your boyfriend went down on you. After making you finish, Aaron had made his way up again, urging you nicely to look at him.

With a nod of your head, you gave him permission to gently remove your hands from your face.

“There you are.” He smiled at you.

“Hi,” you said, softly, unable to keep yourself from smiling a little.

“Hi,” he answered, just as softly. “Do you wanna taste yourself, baby?”

“Mhm…” You nodded, staring at his chin instead of his eyes.

Your own eyes closed involuntarily, as he lowered himself and his lips touched yours. You opened your mouth, allowing his tongue to touch yours. Knowing where that tongue had been before it was inside your mouth, made you even more excited for what was coming next.

Aaron placed his hand on your hip, giving it a squeeze and then moved it down your thigh, wrapping your leg around his body. “Open them wider, sweetheart.”

Only a few moments later, Aaron was inside you, rocking his body against yours, in a pace slow enough to be considered both romantic and tormenting.

“Ah…”

“Good?” he breathed heavily on your mouth.

“So good…”

“I love you,” he moaned, his face now buried in the crook of your neck. He left open mouthed kisses on your sensitive skin after every little whine of yours. “I love your body. I love the sounds you make. I love the way you take me like you were made for me.”

“I was,” you sighed, because you really were. There was no man in the world you’d let yourself be this vulnerable around, other than Aaron. Your Aaron.

[teddybeartoji]

omg you should tell us about the first time you heard toji whimper :3c

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATHIS MADE ME LOSE MY SHIT LUNNIEEE YOU'RE FUCKING INSANE AND I LOVE YOU<3333

we were just kind of cuddling this one night - we were both tired from our days and we just wanted to be close with each other, right? some random show was playing in the background as we sat on the bed, me with my back against the backrest and toji with his back to my side. it's not that often that i get to be the big spoon so i was just over the fucking moon i was trying to be normal about it.

so, i was pressing kisses to the side of his head while resting my hand on his lower belly, dangerously close to the waistband of his sweats. and then at one point he tilted his head to kiss me back mmm it was so, so fucking sweet lunnie okay i love kissing him so much.

i brought my other hand to his cheek to pull him in closer while his own hand found a place on my thigh, giving it a squeeze to show me that he wants what i want.

one thing led to another and that's how i ended up with my hand around his leaking cock, his sweats pulled down just enough to give me room to stroke him freely. he was craning his neck to chase my lips, his fingers kneading my thigh as he kept squirming. it was all too much and too little at the same time:(((( but i just wanted to take care of him the way he always takes care of me!!!!!

our tongues danced together, our lips locked in a soft, intimate kiss and that's when i heard it. as i squeezed my fist around the base of his cock, the unfamiliar sound spilled from him before he could stop it. IT WAS SOOO FUCKING HOT FUCK FUCK FUCK but i had to be cool. because i didn't want it to stop, i didn't want to embarrass him further... so all i never took my hand away and i never broke the kiss, only smiling into his mouth. i felt his skin burn under his touch and it was mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm genuinely one of the hottest things in the world like i'm constantly thinking about it...

it didn't take too long for him to spill all over my hand and his own happy trail; his whole body was just twitching, his muscles contracting as i helped him through his orgasm. and then we just laid there holding each other with stupid, fucked out smiles on our faces. his head fell into the crook of my neck as i took his hand from my thigh and pressed a kiss to it. it was all just so fucking soft and loving and the moment meant a lot to the both of us because it just really solidified what we have. that we want each other, that we want to take care of each other. I LOVE HIMMMMMM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIMMMMMM

[abigails-gf]

halooo! i saw ur post so im here to request some fluff :3333 how about some sleepy morning cuddles w abby!!!!! with a lot of kisses and hugs!!!! i just love her sm............... thank you!

abby anderson x fem reader.

a/n: aah! i love this .. morning cuddles with abby .. <33 tysm for requesting this !! :33 i love abs s'muchh .. cuddlin w/her in my mind .. :))

you slowly opened your eyes. “good morning, my love.” you smiled at the sound of her voice. “morning, abs.”

you were laying on her chest, looking up to her, your noses touching each other. “slept well?” she asked. you nodded and hugged her tight. “mhm. always do when i’m with you.” abby smiled and kissed your nose. “being all cute in the morning... how dare you, madam.”

“just saying the truth, madam.” you giggled and leaned over to kiss her. she smiled against your lips, caressing your back under your t-shirt. “m’love.” she whispered. “all mine.” she kissed you once more.

your head was now in the crook of her neck, leaving little kisses on each one of her freckles. she hummed to in satisfaction. “d’you like when i kiss you like this?” you asked. she nodded, her eyes closing, her fingertips tracing shapes on your lower back.

you loved mornings like this: both of you, in bed, cuddling, kissing, being in each other’s arms. it was quiet, but a comfortable kind of silence. like none of you really needed to talk to understand each other in that moment. it was those moments you cherished the most.

the way her fingers travelled on your bare skin, the way she smiled when your lips touched her skin.

you took one of her hands in yours, playing with her fingers, kissing each one of them before intertwined them with yours. she rubbed the back of your hand with her thumb, bringing your hand to her lips, kissing it. “my girl...” you smiled and hid your head in her neck. “all yours.” you answered.

she kissed your hand once more and kissed your wrist. you kissed her shoulder, feeling her warm skin under your lips.

you admired all the freckles she had on her shoulder, counting them. “s’pretty.” you whispered, kissing her soft skin. she kissed the top of your head. “i agree. you’re so pretty.” you scoffed.

you sat down on her lap, held her hands above her head and looked at her. you looked at her eyes, those blue eyes you loved so much, the one that felt like home when you looked into them. you looked at the scar on her cheek, and all the freckles that formed some sorts of constellations on her pretty face and leaned down to kiss her lips, softly. “prettiest girl ever.” you said against her lips.

she kissed you back, intertwining your fingers and putting your hands behind your back. “are we talking about you here?” she said, smiling. you shook your head and left her fingers to cup her cheeks.

you both stared deeply in each other’s eyes. “i love you s’much, abby.” she slightly turned her head to kiss one of your hands. “i love you so much too, my pretty girl. prettiest of them all. adore you so much.” you could feel yourself blushing at her words. you kissed her, laying back down on her chest, one of her hand in your hair, and the other holding one of your hands.

this was home. abby felt like home.

[dreamties]

Reader W/ a Clingy! Kurt Kunkle

A/n- clingy killers??? hello?? this is my favorite flavor of slasher. (that. or letting us be clingy <333)

Requested by Anon! :)

The headcanon section is relatively short, but I also added a sort of oneshot bit that lands at 546 words! Enjoy folks <3

Pre-Relationship

Kurt has never heard of this "personal boundary" people speak of

he's always hanging off of you in same way. holding on your arm, and holding hands- in public, at home . . . just the two of you, in videos, what not.

This is also specifically in the context of being friends

you think it's just Kurt being affectionate, it's really sweet, actually. but he has no idea how to communicate that it's more than that

that he needs your attention, and care, and he wants to show you how much he loves you but it's difficult to say that aloud, yknow?

kurt is soooo sensitive to rejection it's not even funny (is it the RSD related to him being an ADHDer???? lol probably)

Dating <3

he would be less clingy when you start dating but at the same time be more so clingy????

kurt can be full of multitudes as a lil treat <3

less physically clingy, and more emotionally so

like he has this energy that begs and whines for your attention

and he's so terrified of losing you, even if he doesn't feel the need to constantly be letting the world know you're his by an arm around the shoulder anymore. he just NEEDS them to instinctively know by seeing the two of you together, and HELL be damned if they don't. because the two of you are so obviously together and would Never break up <3333

sometimes he gets self-conscious about how much he needs you. like it's probably SO FRUSTRATING to deal with him . . . right?

He gets better at opening up when you're finally together

so hopefully you can recognize when he's feeling down and out of it and help to comfort him.

"Kurt?" You rest your body against the door frame, waiting for a response from your boyfriend. "Babe?"

You sigh. "I'm worried about you, you haven't left your room all day. Kurt, honey, please open the door."

You can hear scurrying beyond the door, a familiar click of his computer turning on. He opens the door with a wide smile, "I was just about to go on stream."

"We need to talk."

He kind of shakes his head yet pretends he doesn't hear you all together. "C'mon, please? You should join me. The Kurties would love to have you back."

"Kurt. . ."

"Please?"

You let out a frustrated sigh. "Fine, but we're talking after."

He smiles and nods. He drags you into his room, where he has his entire streaming set up, by your hand. You close the door behind the two of you. He settles into his gaming chair, and tugs at your hand, motioning for you to come sit with him.

"I can just get a chair from the garage, hun."

"No, please, it's okay."

You recognize his behavior as clingy. The whole reason you had been worried today is that he hadn't been clingy. He had not kept you company in your office while you worked, did not hang out in the kitchen as you made late breakfast for yourself (usually you would make extra, and give it to him, so you could eat at the table together). He did not once try to chat your ear off.

You should be happy that he seems to find his place back in his skin, but something's still off.

What happened to your baby, to make him think he shouldn't do that? That he shouldn't be close, and loving, and with you.

"Okay." You agree and slip yourself onto his lap. He fiddles a bit more with his software and the camera angle, before hitting start on the stream.

"Hey, what's up, everybody? Welcome back to Kurtzworld! I'm joined by my wonderful partner today."

He waves, greeting everyone that joins, he slowly moves so that his arms connect around you and he's leaning his chin- comfortably and soft- in the crook of your shoulder.

You wave to his audience, as well. You'd done this a hundred times- and you'd do it forever, if that's what Kurt wanted.

"What do you have planned today?" You smile towards him and gives a ridiculous look back.

"Not much, thinking we could answer some questions. How's the sound, Kurties?" He looks towards the chat for approval. It's resounding with praise.

His eyes glance towards yours, begging if it's okay.

You give him a genuine look, it's serious- and he knows he can't ignore his feelings forever, that as soon as the camera's off, that you will be forcing him to have an honest conversation on why he's been so off lately. But he can also tell you're proud of him- which you are, you always- that he found a way to reach out to you and get what he wanted.

You drop the seriousness, the direct request for a conversation- for now. You kiss his cheek. You're happy to play along.

"Of course, honey, I love you."

You laugh as Kurt grows red in the face, acting all cute and embarrassed.

[idylls-of-the-divine-romance]

helloooo hope ur having a great day :D why do u think u can be lgbt and christian? asking as a ex lgbt christian (maybe not ex. it's complicated.) so id love to know other opinions :))

Hello there, anonie. I am having a pretty good day, thank you <333

First, I want to thank you for the politeness with which you asked this question.

Second I would like the make clear that reconciling my sexuality with my religion has not been easy and is still not easy. I thought it was for a while, but boy did the Lord go out of his way to show me how wrong that was (June was not a kind month me).

That out of the way, yes I do believe I can be gay and a christian. And I believe this because I am. I'm gay, cause I am attracted to guys, not because I want to be or something (trust me. I do not want to be). And I am Christian because Christianity is true (I do want this to be true, because it's the best). I am also African American, not because I chose this, but because I was born this. I am 17 because I was born 17 years ago and etc etc etc. I think you see my point? I am not a believer that one's sexuality is just something one chooses, you're born it and you have to deal with it. I was born gay, that's it. Now I've gotta deal.

Now, I am side b so that means I 1) interpret the scriptures to say that homosexual relationships are iniquity however much that hurts to type but also 2) I do not believe that this means I can't identify as gay or that I need to expect God to change my sexuality. That's absurd, at least imo.

People will identify as Republican and then say I can't identify as gay. Uhhhhh one of us can't control it and one of us is choosing to side with Babylon, check your eye bro.

And I do not believe that Jesus will change my sexuality any more than he'll change my ethnicity. No where in scripture is such a thing suggested. I'm born it. I am it. I've got to deal with it, for better and worse. To be clear: I am not saying Jesus can't, only that he won't.

A final thought: Being gay is not a sin. And neither is being a gay relationship. Do a word study on the word sin and you'll find that the words we translate sin theologically mean "to morally fail at something." It is my conviction that as images of God (and since God is Love) that to sin is thus to fail to love. So, being gay is not a sin. Telling people that they're going to hell or that God hates them for being gay is a sin and also a heresy. That said, you could make the argument that gay relationships are iniquity (crookedness; something straight made crooked), and since I am side b this is unfortunately my position.

Also I am firmly and completely against Conversion Therapy and I am very disappointed in Focus on the Family, an organization that was very important to my childhood. It breaks my heart and I consider such actions to be grave sin, iniquity, and transgression (betrayal).

Also, also I love my Side A family <3333. They are some of the most faith filled people so the hate they get is absurd.

[un-lawliet]

hii abby! (cigarettes after sex anon here) i would love to request a Dazai fic if you would entertain my idea :')

Dazai and reader having met in the port mafia back when they were wild teenagers, reader and him both worked together and over the years developed as close of a bond as one can with PM Dazai (reader ofc being in love with him) and when Dazai left the mafia for the ADA, left without telling the reader a single word. years later, they run into eachother and reader just mostly wants to know why they left them and a whole lotta confessing and hurt blahhhhh i'm sure you can execute the actual prompt so much better than i'm describing but i just think you would write this SO WELL ahhhh thank you for everything that u do <3333 have a BEAUTIFUL DAY AND STAY WELL

hi my lovely !!!!!! I WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOVE TO WRITE THIS FOR YOU <33 thank you so much for your request AND FOR YOUR LOVELY KIND WORDS I ADORE YOU ALWAYS- i hope this is ok i adored writing it <3

Animosity

— in which Dazai, despite everything, still cares.

“An anonymous informant has agreed to meet with the Port Mafia regarding the weretiger, under the circumstance that it’s you they meet with and that you go alone.”

.

.

Your throat burns with the remnants of your cigarette, the tips of your fingers tinted yellow in the afterglow.

You flick the bunt to the ground and catch the back of your coat in the closing of your car door.

Bitter hissed curses escape the confines of your lips, and you wretch the door open and tug the crinkled cloth back towards yourself.

It rips at the seams as you do so, little black threads sporadically bursting out of their tidy rows of careful sewing, it reminds you of a gash, and you slam the door shut again.

Glancing backwards, you assess your darkened surroundings, counting the number of people outside the pathetic looking bar.

Red tiles decorated a crooked roof, a roof that appears to slant slightly, drooping towards the concrete below, the windows yellow from neglect and age combined.

You can hear music from the inside, it contrasts the laughter and boisterous voices of the drunken crowd surrounding the outdoors. A melancholic folk song from years past acting as a backing track to their disjointed joy.

You sigh, your hand reaching down to tap the gun hidden away under your jacket. You tap it thrice before beginning to move towards the burly door, eyes restless, moving from face to face.

The fate of the Port Mafia’s plan to capture the weretiger rested on this evening, and on the guarantee that the anonymous intel you were meeting tonight would make an appearance.

They had asked for you.

You, who had been practically raised within the mafia but had never progressed further from the status of a measly assassin, following the lead from your boss and executives alike.

Kicking a stray pebble, you watch as it hits of the back of a woman’s heel, she wobbles slightly and laughs, blaming her lack of composure on her drunkenness.

The door creaks open, as if protesting your entrance, revealing the bright confines of the bars interior. The smell of spilled alcohol causing you to crinkle your nose, eyes squinting.

For a bar so unattractive both inside and out, it sure was crowded tonight.

People were dancing to the slow beat of the live singers guitar, swaying in an uneven chorus, hands floating beside inebriated bodies, two teenagers cheering as they threw their heads back engulfing their bitter shots, and across from you, a tired old man had his head in his hands, moping over a half empty pint of beer, lamenting about the impossible.

Sickly pink patterned wallpaper decorated the walls, peeling at the corners where roof meets the wall, revealing a blank white surface beneath, it reminds you of the fabric of Elise’s dress and you shudder, anxiously picking the skin off of the top of your thumb.

You take a step, then another, your head swivelling back and forth, trying to discern your anonymous source from amongst the kaleidoscope of strangers.

With years of experience in the Port Mafia, you prided yourself in your ability to figure out the suspicious from the unknowing.

So with a slight click of your tongue, you conclude that you cannot see them, at least, not now. Leaving you alone in your meanderings, arms swaying awkwardly at your black clad sides.

A man brushes past you, his shoulder collides with your own and you glare at the back of his head as he continues on his way.

“Bastard.” You mumble, your voice whispered under poorly restrained frustration.

Unable to stand the constant shoving and accidental bumping with strangers, you made your way towards the back of the bar, trying to pinpoint a blind spot in which you could see the door, but those entering would not see you.

The bar is dimmer near the back, you blend in with the swarming of shadows, slinking around pulled out chairs your hands in your pockets.

You move past a slight corner and freeze, your mouth parting and an airy breath escaping, you choke on it, a ragged cough clawing it’s way from your throat.

“Y/N! Long time no see.”

Osamu Dazai was smiling at you, his face held up by his hand, head tilted, his eyes slits.

Osamu Dazai previously an executive of the Port Mafia..

Your face burns raw and you take a step back, your heart racing within your chest.

“W-What?” You gape, your eyes wide, you’re sure you look like a blubbering fool, hands shaking.

You see his grin, see how it crinkles his face, marking out the slight aging from the last four years since you’d seen him.

He looks different. A beige coat replacing the black one he use to wear. He’s not as thin, his skin flushed with attempting care.

And yet, his eyes, honeyed over with concealed lies, stare at you with the same prolonged look you had known years ago.

“Come!” Dazai smiles, his voice light with drama, “Sit with me.” He gestures towards the chair in front of him, narrowly missing his glass.

You ignore him, ignore his offer.

“You’re..you’re in the ADA?” Your voice is wispy, whispered under accusation.

He laughs, it’s boisterous and familiar, you hold back the urge to cover your ears and run.

“It seems as such.” He mocks, “And you’re after our weretiger no?”

You look at him, unable to form coherency in your mind.

Rage burns your lips, flames caressing your tongue.

“C’mon, Sit.” He reminds, his eyebrows raising, eventuating his false clamour.

“Damn traitor.” You hiss, hand moving to your gun, “I should shoot you dead.”

“And loose the chance of intel?” Dazai doesn’t move, unperturbed by your anger, “I can’t imagine your Boss would be pleased.”

At the mention of your mission, you falter, the hardness in your expression melting.

Dazai’s eyes widen ever so slightly.

“Walking out of a mission, now there’s a consequence I wouldn’t have liked to face.” He whistles and your mouth parts, realisation holding you in motion.

The intel had asked specifically for you, and only you.

He’d tricked you, trapped you, you had no choice but to stay.

He observes you, an eyebrow raising as you come to your own bitter conclusion of events, before he speaks again;

“And besides, you wouldn’t shoot me.”

Your chest heaves with a raspy breath, “Don’t act like you know me.”

“Oh but I did know you.”

“I’m not known by traitors.” You hiss back.

“OoOoh well haven’t you grown up.” Dazai chuckles, leaning back in his seat to fully take you in, eyes narrowing in on your truly exhausted composure, yet you don’t notice his change in attitude, too focused on cursing yourself out for being so stupid as to fall for his trap.

You had seen it before, his ability to twist any situation into one that benefited himself, you had laughed at the sheer idiocy of your past shared enemies with him.

And now he laughs at you, alone, and your face burns with shame.

Your feet stay stuck to the dusty floorboards below, you do not move, and Dazai sighs.

“Don’t be stubborn now, not when I’ve came so far just to see you.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth, taking a sip of his drink.

Your hands shake, you stuff them into your pockets to conceal your bodies mutiny against your composure, he see’s your nerves anyway but chooses to stay silent.

Dazai’s complicity is unusual, it crawls up your spine and makes you shiver, you don’t know him, you never did, but you had never truly feared him like this before.

Your heart is entangled in a war with your head, forcing you into a tandem of hate and-

“Y/N?”

“Shut up.” You reply, closing your eyes, collecting yourself, “Just shut up Dazai.”

He tuts and it stings, and although you’re the one armed, you feel like the prey observed by a hunter pointing a rusty rifle in your face.

He raises his hands, they stay in line with his ears, as he shakes his head. “I’m only here to talk to you.”

Dazai talks to you as one would talk to a child, as if you were throwing a tantrum in the middle of the bar, it’s soft, an offering, spoken as if a gentle prayer.

But your not God, you can’t find forgiveness within your soul, and so instead of embracing his offering of peace you glare, arms crossing in-front of your chest.

“It’s been four years, and now you want to talk?” You’re sly with your sharp words, you hope they pierce his skull, you want to see him tremble in guilt, want to see him slump over and beg for you to hear him out.

Instead he smiles, like he expected your outburst, and your nails dig into the flesh of your palm, fists clenched tight enough to spill blood onto your fingers.

“You think this is funny?” Your voice raises, throat raw with the temptation to cry as you stare at his fraudulent face.

He gasps and shakes his head, smile widening, “You mistake me… I just find it hard not to smile when beautiful women yell at me.”

You seethe.

Your anger is ugly, it cuts lines onto your forehead and breathes a sickly, wet breath across your face, you’re disgusting and sweaty, the sheen on your neck catching the light from the lamp on Dazai’s table.

“You’re a liar Dazai.” You mutter, deciding the mission wasn’t worth it, that you were leaving damn the consequences.

You turn on your heel, refusing to look at him anymore.

You hear him shift in his seat, and Dazai opens his mouth once more, the smile falling off of his mendacious face.

“-Then I’ll tell you a truth.” His voice was serious, devoid of any preverbal joy, you count the moments between each of his words, biting your tongue as he continues,“I don’t regret leaving the mafia.”

There are nettles in your eyes, they sting and redden the whites surrounding your pupils, embedded in watery, sucken, sockets. Poisoning you with the taste of sick humiliation.

And you turn back around.

“You regret nothing?” Your voice shakes, cracks and shatters as you impose your final prompt, “Not even-” (leaving me?)

Exhaustion chokes you as if an omnipresent, greying hand was pushing down on your throat, watching you writhe and laughing as you fail to breathe.

“Calm down.” He’s still sitting, his figure slumped over slightly, reflecting the bored inflation you sought in his voice.

Your reaction is predictable and he’s bored. He’s no longer a demon thriving in juvenile rebellion, he’s moved on and you’re still stuck wiping the dust of old memories, trying to relight a fire with sticks already ruined by rain.

“So where do we go from here?” Anger pulls you out of your own head and pushes you to react, the nettles in your eyes are on fire, you clench your fists in the smoke. “Why seek me out if you’re only here to gloat about how much you’ve moved on?”

Dazai pauses, the finger circling the rim of his chipped glass nestled comfortably in his hand, stills.

He doesn’t know, failing to comprehend the intricacies of his own mind for a second as he thinks and you watch.

The silence unsettles you and your hand falls absentmindedly to fidget with the handle of the gun tucked snug at your side, Dazai’s eyes follow your delicate movements, his stare filtered with bitter nostalgia as he watches your unchanged habits.

You’re still doing the same old habits as you did when he left you, and selfishly this leaves him with a smudge of comfort. A comfort that blurs the lenses of his new life.

…“Asushi would be scared of you, but then again he’s scared of everything right now.”

“The weretiger?” You question, confusion melting the ice from your tome.

“He’s an orphan you know?”

“I don’t really care.”

“I expected as much.”

If you were to squint and concentrate on the calculated movement of Dazai’s features, you would see how disappointment coated the the gleam of his sharp eyes.

He shouldn’t feel this opposed to your lack of empathy. He should be use to how you work now.

The small scars on your hand retelling your history with the mafia, your history of working beside him as a boy, boastfully playing a part in the play of the mafia, chorused by choirs of deceit as conducted by Mori.

Perhaps, he did not know as much as he assumed he did, or perhaps, two years alone, working under the devil had truly changed you.

Or maybe he’s still that wicked boy hiding under the title of a “good man”.

“Are both sides no longer the same to you?” You probe, words flying out of your mouth as you lean forward slightly on your feet, “Good and evil?”

You see it then, the kaleidoscope of memories retold through the fluttering of his wispy eyelashes that he can’t conceal. He blinks and it’s gone.

His mouth parts, pausing, thinking.

“Does it matter?” The words are bitter, he spits them out as if they sting his mouth, defensive and unrelenting.

You hear a glass smash from behind the bar, the obnoxious people gathered around holler at the sound of broken glass. You glance over and take in the sight of a red, humiliated woman frantically apologising to her boss.

Dazai clears his throat and you look back, taking in the way he leans back on his chair, encased in the glow from the small, flickering lamp beside him, his drink abandoned on the chipped wood of his table.

“It use to matter.” You breathe, staring down at him.

He thinks you look plain, decorated in shadows, and he wonders if, right now, he looked the same to you.

“People can change.” Dazai smirks, gesturing to you, his voice light.

Not as much as you have you think, smoothing your knuckles against your shirt, avoiding his eyes.

“I haven’t changed.” You remark, your voice wavers, trying selfishly to convey your rage, hatred and misery to the man before you.

He laughs, and you cringe at the eccentricity of his own misery and he looks away for a moment, bandaged hands clutching his stomach.

“Of course you have.” He replies, and you hear it, the bitter inflation of his tone, a tiny flicker of regret drooling from his mouth.

“You no longer look at me with that sweet affection I use to adore.”

Your hands tremble, your body swayed with trepidation, the background of the bar evaporates into mist and you can’t breathe.

“What?”

He says nothing, instead choosing to simply look at you, solidifying his point.

The light encasing him appears to dull, the light in his eye fading into oblivion.

Years of un-relinquished feelings swarm in your stomach, bubbling up and making you feel nauseous, and you hate yourself.

You want to throw up, and he doesn’t move.

A moment passes and Dazai gestures again.

“Sit.” he repeats, the command echos like a cracked record skipping over and over, stuck in the the point of the needle.

And then quietly, spoken softly, as if trying to remain unheard, “..Please.”

This time, you do as you’re asked, shuffling over to the chair opposite him, your eyes hidden in your exposed shame.

The chair creaks as your tired body slumps against it. Your hands resting awkwardly in your lap as you refuse to humour him with a look.

“You left.” You say lamely, and Dazai loses himself in resentment.

Your voice sounds as empty as his own. Devoid of hope as you stare at the scuffs on your shoes.

“I had to.” He replies, stoic although his head is crowded with the effects of his whiskey.

You bite your lip, letting your tongue trace the roof of your mouth as if conjuring expression.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going to leave?” You whisper.

“You would have begged me to stay.” He mutters, a simple, vile confession that makes you cringe.

“I wouldn’t have-”

“You would.”

The silence is concocted with truth, and you both know it. Dazai leans forward in his seat, you don’t think he realises his own movement.

“If you needed to leave, I would have understood, I’m not weak.” You argue.

“You were weak enough to fall for me no?”

Dazai watches you carefully as your eyes finally move to his own, and he loathes the lack of hatred in your fixated stare.

“Is this a rejection?” You muse, a pathetic smile dancing across you face, “You’re four years late for that don’t you think?”

And Dazai smirks, mirroring your cynicism despite the rotting honesty in his pupils.

“I suppose it’s an acknowledgment.” He nods, and you shake your head.

“You’re cruel.”

And you could mistake the widening of Dazai’s smile as genuine if you were to ever be foolish enough to believe you could read his expressions.

You reach across to grab the half empty glass of liquor resting in-front of Dazai, he watches as you tip your head back and down it all, your face flushed with rusty determination.

You wipe your mouth when you finish.

“I thought you were cruel back then too y’know?” You mumble, looking down into the empty glass. Wincing as the after taste burns your throat.

“I thought you were beautiful.” Dazai muses, hand resting under his chin again.

And you shake your head, refusing to fall into the depths of his pretty words.

“You thought I was stupid.”

He smirks, “Think you’ve figured me out?”

His eyes are guarded despite his efforts of non-chalice, he’s cautious.

“I don’t think even you can do that.” Your words are hushed, eyes narrowing as you process the meaning behind your accusation.

He leans back, creating distance, you move your head to glance at him.

Resolution flickers across his face, he’s quick to conceal it, but you’ve already seen it.

“You’re making me sound quite complicated.” Dazai chuckles, it’s uncomfortable, and he glances at the bar briefly.

You nod but say nothing in return.

Moments pass, the silence stretching out for miles, an endless road. Your body aches as if you were the one walking it.

“The weretiger,” You begin, sighing, “You’re his..guardian?”

“I hate that word.” He mutters, and you’re shocked at the honesty of his tone, “Makes me appear selfless.”

“You have something to gain for looking after him?”

“I always have something to gain.”

Defeat quells the disappointment that thrives in your chest at his confession, wishing he would go back to blurring his truths.

You stretch your legs out in front of you, your foot nudges his own, neither of you move.

“I think I prefer it when you lie Dazai.”

He looks back at you, a pathetic smile dancing in his eyes.

“As do I.”

He reaches over, and takes your hand, it’s cold in his grasp.

You stare as he brings it towards himself, and kisses your knuckle delicately, his lips like wings of a moth across your bare skin.

Letting it fall, your hand drops to the cold surface of the table, he stands his face concealed as he turns, pushing in his chair.

You feel empty as he shakes his head, dropping his shoulders.

He doesn’t leave, he just stands looking at the strangers clamoured in the bar evasive to his turmoil. Your eyes stay fixated on him, and the slight curve of his back.

“Going after the Weretiger is futile.” Dazai remarks, “The Agency is too powerful.”

Wounded pride takes over and you tut, “The mafia far outranks every organisation in Yoko-”

“I wouldn’t lie about this Y/N.” His words halt your patriotism, your mouth closing abruptly. “For your own safety, avoid the ADA.”

His hair is messy, you think, still looking at the back of his head.

“You including me in this, by asking for only me, has made me important in the mafia for the first time since you left Dazai.” Your voice indignant, he turns to face you again, an eyebrow raised.

“Your need to feel important out trumps your need for safety?” He queries, and you fall silent, exposure crippling your farce of confidence.

Your face burns with the presentation of your pathetic motivations, you hate yourself once more, your chest rising and falling in loathing.

“It felt nice to be cared about.” You admit weakly, your arm sneaking around your own waist, clutching as your coat.

And Dazai watches your close in on yourself, a empty husk of a person before him.

He blinks, and considers his words carefully, gently regarding you with a look you couldn’t discern.

“I care far more than you think.” He replies and you nearly miss it, the movement of his body almost drowning out his confession as he begins to walk away, leaving you lost still sat on your chair.

A waitress approaches, gesturing at your empty glass, her voice is sweet as she asks if you want the bill.

“Sorry?” You question, forcing yourself out of your daze to look at her pretty face.

“The bill ma’am, for your drink?”

“It isn’t paid for already?” Confusion peaks out from your voice, and the waitress cocks her head.

“The gentleman who ordered it said you would pay for it…Um what was it he said?” She pauses, a finger going into her mouth as she tries to recall Dazai’s words.

“Oh yes! Said you would pay for it, like “old times”.”

You tilt your head back, and laugh, the waitress jumping at the sound of your preserved drunken humour.

“Damn bastard.” You say between breaths, shaking an apologetic hand towards her.

Nothing is right, everything is wrong, and yet, nostalgia forces your hand, and you reach in your pocket for coins.

They click together as you grasp them and the bar door closes as you hand her your change.

(A/N: THANK U FOR YHE REQUEST CAS ANON IM SO SO SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH TO WRITE THIS- i love you and i hope i did ok !!!! i listened to cas the entire time <3333)

it’s 1am and i’m taking an allergic reaction, my throat is really tight but I HAD TO FINISH THIS !!!!!!! so here we are- i love you all and pls stay safe and sleep <3 -kisses abby

[softschofield]

the convoy boys after the war, part one - rossi and cooke ♡

rossi:

i’ve talked about rossi after the war quite a bit, but essentially, he copes the best. or, rather, he’s the best at accepting that he is fundamentally ruined, that he’s been hollowed out and emptied, that he isn’t and never will be the same, that this trauma will last a life time. and because he’s able to accept that relatively easy and make peace with the sleepless nights and who he’s become and what has happened to him, he can move on. he can look the trauma in the eye and shake its hand and get on with his life in a way that is both terrible and enviable. he’s always been at peace in the quiet, always had a deadpan, irreverent gallows humour, always had to look out for his mother and his siblings and himself - and those three things form the basis of how he’s able to more or less put the war behind him. he was raised in a bleak, grey world of wild moors and black-brown bricks and factory smoke, and war is just another bad thing.

afterwards, he doesn’t go back to the factory. he’s reunited with his family - a joyous, deafening affair: he showed up completely unannounced and knocked on the front door during dinner, and then his siblings are all over him, from the youngest to the eldest, from the sister who had been in a crib when he left in his uniform to the brother who’s almost a man and who has taken a job in the mines, and he has children perched on his shoulders and in his arms and around his legs, and everyone is laughing, and he’s grinning that soft, sly crooked grin, and his mother is shouting at him for something with a gruff face and her apron round her waist, and when he opens his arms for a hug she swats him away like she’s cross, and then they’re finally hugging and she’s smiling and pretending there aren’t tears on her cheeks. he’s reunited with his family, and he stays in his old childhood bedroom for a few days, because they want him to and he isn’t settled yet. he tells his siblings the stories he can bear to tell, and ignores his mother when she insists he doesn’t help her make dinner, and it’s good, it’s nice, to be back in this warm, low-lit, loud home. 

a week or so later, he finds a second-story flat in the same row of grey houses he’d rented a flat in before the war, and he spends all his service pay - two and a half years’ worth - that he hasn’t given to his mother or put into the flat on a typewriter, and then all the money is gone. the flat is empty and cold and feelingless: low ceiling and water stained walls and grimy glass, and water in the bathroom that never runs hot. but it’ll do. his mother gives him an old desk she’s kept tucked away in the barn, and for a long while it’s his only piece of furniture - that and a fuzzy little lamp with a bulb he has to tap a few times to make it stop flickering. he puts the desk by the window, looking out over the brown, damp street, and every day he writes.

he’d always wanted to be a writer - a journalist, to be precise - but he’d lacked the courage to start before. rossi, afraid? no one at school would have believed it. anyway, the war hammered that out of him. there’s no nerves left now. there’s just a quiet, empty, dead-eyed fearlessness that was born in shellfire and turned to soft steel the first time he came out of it alive. friends died, but no one could touch him. stand up and wave his arms about in no man’s land and no one could have touched him.

so, every day, he writes. he starts to write down everything about the war, in chronological order, but it isn’t right and most of the time he’s just left staring down at the page with the echo of cooke telling some stupid story that everyone knew never happened and jondalar speaking softly about his little sister and the smell of flowers and the slums during the rainy season in india inside his head. they’ve written to him. quite frequently, really. he sends a few lines back when he feels like it, but soon enough that stops as well. what is there to say? if it weren’t for the war, they never would have met.

when the memoirs go nowhere, he hitches a ride into the biggest town near his own village (his own? his family’s), walks straight into the local newspaper’s office, puts a few pages of writing onto the editor’s table, and asks for a job. just like that. fearless, hooded eyes and all. he gets it. he stays for a few more months in his little flat, writing articles and posting them in. he has dinner with his family most nights. sometimes he stays over for breakfast, or to take his younger siblings to school, or to go out with them to the moors. the rest of the time he keeps to himself. he’s not interested in other people, in pubs, in friends. a few try to befriend him, boys he’d known at school before he’d dropped out and boys from the factory and men who had known his father. he’s polite, but terse, and the conversation never goes far. few try a second time. he’s nice to the old women, though. they don’t try to be sympathetic and submissive about the war. “fuckin’ disaster wasn’t it, hen?” they growl in those thick accents of theirs, and he sneer-smiles back at them and loves them fiercely for it, “the english ought to be shot for it.”

he stays for a few more months, and schofield wrings an address out of him in one of the few letters he answers, and it’s better than he thought it would be to see him. his mother tries to fatten schofield up. they travel around the country for a few months. walk the moors and the forests. it’s good. it’s nice. they talk about books. he’s fascinated by the newspaper job. he’s sad to see him go.

after that, he moves to dundee, then to glasgow. gets a job at a bigger and better newspaper. writes articles that earn him praise and recognition. malky sends him a letter - sweet malky, he keeps writing even when he doesn’t get anything in reply - with a clipping of one of his articles. he says he’s started ordering the paper from glasgow just so he can read what he’s written. 

and something about that snaps rossi out of it, out of this grey fog that he’d taken to be the rest of his life and that he’d merely accepted. he writes to all of them - to parry and jondalar and schofield and butler and malky and cooke - and finally they all get together and it’s wonderful. it’s perfect. it’s everything he’s ever needed. after that, life is warmer, brighter, sunnier, more open. he hears the birds singing for the first time in a year. they go down to london one time and jondalar introduces them all to his parents and sisters, and they all stay for dinner. another time they all come up to scotland to stay at rossi’s family home and go for picnics on the open moors. he and cooke finally get together. everything is good. rossi becomes a famous journalist and war writer, once he finally writes his memoirs and finds a publisher for them.

they heal. 

cooke:

after having found a place among people who wanted him with them and who he could honestly call his friends, after having belonged for a little while, going home is tough. the schoolboys who had made fun of him and played cruel games with his head and his heart had gone to war themselves, but that doesn’t mean they want anything to do with him. they stick with the ones who had made it back, and the few times cooke tries to go over to them, smiling and submissive and ‘hey, lads’, when he sees them in a pub or on the street, they glare at him so coldly that he stops mid-step and sticks his hands in his pockets and turns the other way. 

back home in london, he doesn’t have anyone. his father is as terrible as ever, cruel and violent and drunken and belittling. any confidence cooke had gained in the company of people who cared for him disintegrates the second he steps back into his childhood flat. his mother weeps when she sees him, and he hugs her back and smiles and breathes in the smell of her hair; she’s alive, and they’re back together, and he’s happy. but then his father appears in the doorway and cooke shrinks into himself and drops his eyes. over the next few weeks, over tense dinners where cooke sits silently and bows his head and doesn’t make eye contact because that will only make him angrier, his father insists he must have been a coward in the war, that he hadn’t done anything worth being proud of, that mrs baker’s boy down the street got himself two medals, that he’s useless and weak and stupid. 

once or twice he tries to argue, tries to stand up for himself - rossi and butler and jondalar and malky had taught him self-confidence and what it was like to be valued, so he tries to use those lessons. it doesn’t end well for him. it doesn’t end well for his mother either, and he isn’t sure whether he stops trying to defend himself for his own sake or for hers. soon enough, he’s back to being the quiet, flinching boy he’d been before the war. and he starts to believe that all the things his father says must be true. he was a coward. he is stupid. he’s always known he’s weak. rossi had only been tolerating him. they’d never been friends. he was just an unwanted tag-along lingering at the edge of the group. they’d been laughing at him. no one had ever really liked him. rossi had only kissed him because he felt sorry for him.

he wants to work at a little tailor shop on the corner - he lurks around outside, looking at the pretty suits and the men with tape measures and dreaming of something he doesn’t quite understand - but when he goes in to apply they shoo him out the door. something about his accent. something about not muddying up the floorboards. something about not trying to rise above his station. he shoves his hands into his pockets and walks aimlessly through the streets until the humiliated blush leaves his cheeks and ears.

eventually, he gets a job at a grocer’s. it’s better than the tailor’s, anyway. he gets to make silly faces at babies and teach swear words to the kids who hang around and get smiled at by nice ladies, and sometimes he nicks a sweet or two from the counter and chews on them on the walk home. he gets reprimanded for it eventually, called into the manager’s office and yelled at until his cheeks are red and that insolent glare he’d learned in the war is back on his face. at first, he just sits there and takes it, like his father has taught him to do. but finally, he gets sick of it, and he’s had enough, and he slips back into the private cooke he’d been, irreverent and loud and cocky and fearless. he shoots to his feet and shouts right back at the old man in his waistcoat, gets all up in his face and grins with the relish of it. he gets fired for it, of course. he howls with laughter on the sidewalk and earns looks from passersby and skips around the block. but once the adrenaline has worn off, once it stops feeling like freedom, he’s left cold and jobless and embarrassed on the street. 

somewhere along the way, he stops writing to rossi. he barely replies, anyway, and it just makes him more sure that he’d only ever been a burden. he stops writing to malky last. but he keeps all of their letters, tucks them away safe and secret behind a loose slat in his bedroom wall. he takes them out and reads them sometimes, to remember what it was like to have friends and smile thinly at the pages, when he’s sure his father is asleep and that he isn’t going to burst in and snatch them off him and laugh at him for being a pitiful little queer with a crush on every boy he ever served with. 

finally, it’s jondalar who seeks him out. cooke hugs him when he sees him, forgets all about the insecurities he’s been wallowing in for the last year and just launches himself at him. jondalar hugs him back and laughs. they spend a wonderful day together, just wandering round the parks and getting hot chips in greasy newspaper, and cooke feels more like himself, like the person he’d been and the person he’d almost grown to love. he’s loud, and tells jokes, and smiles a lot, and he catches jondalar smiling back at him when he thinks he can’t see, like he’s relieved, like he’s proud, and it makes cooke’s heart feel warm and hopeful.

jondalar brings him home, and introduces him to his parents and his sisters, and cooke stays for dinner and chatters on all evening. he gets on well with jondalar’s youngest sister, and his parents seem to like him. his father is nice and warm and patient. he likes that. after dinner they go for a walk and jondalar tells him he’s been trying to track everyone down. cooke is more relieved than he could ever say to hear that he isn’t the only one they’ve stopped writing to; according to jondalar, most everyone has gone quiet. cooke agrees to help him, and they set to work. for the first time in a long time, the smile on his face is real.

they manage to find them all - by sending letters to families, by scouring newspaper ads - and they’re just about to try and contact everyone when rossi’s letters arrives, one to jondalar and one to cooke. cooke goes running over to jondalar’s flat to show him the letter, all grins and wild eyes and joy. the old team gets back together. everything is good. everything is happy. he belongs again. he’s whole again. he’s him again. 

with his friends back in his life - even odd, quiet, old-fashioned schofield - he can start to truly heal, without feeling like he’s just stagnant and afraid and drifting. he gets a job as a milkman and he loves it - loves the route and the people leaving early in the morning for work and school. he hadn’t even really realised he’d been coping with trauma; the immediate threat of his father had pushed all that to the back of his mind. he’d still had to survive now. 

one day, when cooke confesses the truth of his home life to rossi, rossi and butler go round to cooke’s home with cooke trailing nervously behind like a child - and they give his father hell. butler just lurks ominously, but rossi goes at him - he tells him he’s scum and nothing and pathetic, and that if he ever tries to find cooke he’ll bash his skull in with a rock and no one will ever find the body. butler guards cooke’s bedroom door while he shuffles past his father and, with rossi’s quiet, gentle help, packs his things. “you, too,” rossi says to cooke’s mother. when she just stares back, wide-eyed and hunted, butler explains, “we’re not leaving you here, love.”

she glances fearfully at her husband, like she’s waiting for him to stop her, like she’s terrified of what he’ll do, like she’s afraid to dare to hope - but when he just stares back down at her with hot, hateful eyes, she skitters to their bedroom and throws a clothes and sentimental few things in a bag and rejoins butler in the corridor. once cooke is ready to go, rossi puts his arm gently around cooke’s mother and ushers her past her husband and out the door. butler slams the door behind them.

and for the first time in cooke’s whole life, and for the first time in years for his mother, they’re both free. they can both smile and laugh freely. they can both start to heal.

[f1nalboys]

Hi 👋🏼, this is my first time requesting😅. I was wondering if you could write sidney x tatum x afab reader smut?

oh anon of COURSE i can do this <3333 i used fem pronouns a few times in this fic so im sorry if you wanted GN D: also i ended this at a kind of weird spot bc i was running out of steam but i might come back and revisit this to add stuff on

Tatum Riley x Fem!AFAB!Reader x Sidney Prescott

WORD COUNT: 3445

WARNINGS: nsfw, oral (afab receiving), threesome, thigh smacking, dirty talk, porno lol, sid and tate have bushes because im right, face riding, implication of more sex, not proofread

You’ve been close to Sidney and Tatum for a while now but this is the first time you were invited over for their weekend sleepover. It’s something they did every weekend; on Friday night Tatum would go over to Sidney’s house and they’d hang out, talking and laughing until the sun was rising, and then they’d curl up onto Sidney's bed and sleep.

When Tatum asked if you’d be up for it, you could feel your stomach do a flip. This wasn’t your first sleepover, obviously, but it was your first one with these two and you were so fucking nervous. “Yeah! Yeah, I’d love to!” You cringed internally at how excited you sounded but Tatum gave you a warm smile.

“Great! Meet me and Sid at the fountain after school tomorrow and I’ll drive us! We normally grab something to eat and a movie to watch before we head home.” You agree, watching her with a dazed look as she walks off. Tatum was hot. Sidney was hot. Both of them were so fucking hot and you were going to see them in their (hopefully) tight and short pajamas.

You try to forget about the upcoming sleepover but your thoughts keep drifting. Apparently, it was quite obvious to tell that your mind was somewhere else because when you were packing up your things at the end of class Stu is snapping his fingers in front of your face. “What? Why are you doing that?”

“What are you thinking about?” He has a stupid grin on his face, per usual, and you roll your eyes. “I heard you’re having a sleepover with the girls tomorrow,” He wiggles his eyebrows at you and you scoff but you can’t bite back the smile. He laughs, punching you on your shoulder. “Fuck yes! Listen, not to be a perv, but you gotta tell me what happens next time I see you.”

“I’ll be sure to do that, Stu.” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm and you walk off, leaving him to yell ‘You better!’ after you. That night you think of Sidney and Tatum. You don’t even know if they’re into each other like that; they could just be really close friends. But do close friends look at each other the way they do, let their touches linger like theirs?

And the way they act with you, surely that’s not completely platonic? You allow your eyes to flutter shut as you remember the time Sidney had been drinking and had hugged you, her head in the crook of your neck, pulling back to kiss you. She missed your lips, instead kissing your cheek, but when she pulled back it didn’t look like she was as drunk as she said she was the day after. “I can barely remember anything,” She had told you with a laugh. You didn’t mention it.

Your hand dipped below the waistband of your shorts, pushing your underwear to the side as you sigh. The pads of your fingers brush up and down your slit, ghosting over your clit, and you think about them.

You know you shouldn’t think about your friends like this, but you can’t help it. You think about Tatum's lips, Sidney’s soft hands, what they’d sound like when you fucked them.

Friday can’t come soon enough. All day you were antsy, watching the clock, unable to focus on anything else. When the last bell rang you practically sprinted to the fountain and you were out of breath when you arrived. Tatum and Sidney arrived shortly after, both of them hugging you hello. “You got here quick! I thought your class was on the other side of the school.” Sidney says as the three of you walk to Tatum's beetle.

“I got out early, had to use the bathroom and just decided to head down here,” You lie, hoping it was convincing enough. You get into the backseat and Tatum drives you to the video store.

“What are you in the mood for?” She looks at you through the rearview mirror and you shrug, looking out the window. “C’mon, it’s your first time with us! You have to choose,” She says with a grin.

“Fine. Maybe something scary? Classic sleepover shit, right?” Her and Sidney agree and all the way to the store and back home you occasionally join in on the small talk. It was obvious to the two that you were nervous, if not a little awkward, and they did everything they could to calm your nerves.

Sidney ordered the pizza while you and Tatum set her room up. “Me and Sid normally sleep in the bed together, there’s plenty of room for you too,” She flushes, tossing another pillow onto the bed. “I mean, if you’re cool with that. I could set you up in the guest room if not.”

“No, it’s cool!” You reply quickly and she smiles at you. For a second you think you see her eyes dart down to your chest but that was clearly in your imagination. By the time the pizza arrives you and Tatum had just finished setting the room up.

There were blankets and pillows on the bed, a soft lamp light to fill the dimmed room, and the tv on with the movie paused. The three of you got into bed, you in the middle of them both, and started the movie. It was a classic slasher; a big breasted girl who can’t act running away from a killer, ignoring the front door.

“This is my favorite part!” Tatum says and you watch as the girl whose name you can't remember runs up the stairs, the killer grabbing her by her hair just before she can run into a room. You wait for the knife to sink into her chest, her scream of terror being cut short, but it doesn’t come. Instead, the killer drags the knife down her chest slowly, reaching the waistband of her shorts which you’re just now realizing is extremely thin..

“Tatum, is this porn?” Sidney asks, her voice light, like this was a normal thing for her to do. Tatum laughs, laying back against the pillows. Your eyes are stuck on the screen. The girl's shirt had been cut, her chest bare and the killer was working on her shorts. She wasn’t fighting back. Instead, her hips were bucking into his touch.

You can feel a breath on the back of your neck and you shiver, turning to see Tatum. She had moved closer to you, her arm wrapping around you and rubbing your arm. “It sure is, and it seems like our dear friend Y/N is really into it.” A shock noise leaves your mouth but you can’t disagree. You were into it. Of course, it’s not something you’d watch normally, but seeing the way the girl’s body moved each time the killer's fingers slid over her nipples, hearing the soft noises she made. It was almost too much.

Sidney looks at you and you find it hard to meet her eyes but you do. She has a small grin on her face. “Y/N, are you horny?”

“What?” Your eyes widen at the question, your face burning. Both her and Tatum laugh and you feel like you’re suffocating. Tatum is so close to you, her fingers grazing your skin and raising goosebumps, and Sidney is sitting close enough for her face to be just in front of your own. “No, no I-I’m not. It just took me by surprise, that’s all.”

“So if I reached my hand down your pants you wouldn’t be wet?” Tatum laughs at this, placing her chin on your shoulder. You stutter; what the fuck was happening? “Because I can practically smell you. Have since we got in the car. And if I didn’t know any better,” Sidney leans in closer, wetting her bottom lip with her tongue. “I’d think you were into us.”

Silence. The movie is still playing, the girls moans loud, the sound of the killer grunting as he fucks her almost too much to bear. “Maybe… just a little bit,” You whisper. You were still staring at Sidney and her smile widened at this. “Are you?”

“Are we into you?” She looks at Tatum and her face softens. “Of course we are. We wouldn’t have invited you here if we weren’t. Now,” Her eyes dart down to your lips and you take in a slow, shaky breath. “Can we kiss you?”

A nod of your head has her leaning in and the second her lips touch yours you’re melting. There’s no way this is really happening; just last night you had thought about this, about what it would feel like to be with them, and now it was coming true. Sidney bites at your bottom lip as she pulls away and you let out a small whimper.

Her brown eyes darken and she's kissing you again, harder, her hand resting on your throat. Tatum hasn’t said a word but her hand hasn’t stopped moving, abandoning your arm in favor of your hips. “Y’know, me and Sid, we talked about this before,” She whispers into your ear, placing a small kiss on your neck.

You groan into the kiss, tilting your neck to give her better access. “What… what did you guys talk about?” You ask, pulling away from Sidney's lips. A string of spit connects you both and Sidney breaks the string, grinning at you, her eyes darting between you and Tatum.

“You wanna hear all the dirty details, is that it?”

Nodding your head, Tatum bites at your throat and you yelp, both in pain and pleasure. Her tongue swipes over the blooming bruise, soothing it. “Tell ‘em, Sid. I’m sure they’re dying to know.”

“When we first met you, we thought you were so fucking beautiful.” Tatum, her lips still on your throat, glides her hand down your leg, pushing your thighs apart. Sidney slots herself in between you, keeping them open as Tatum pushes her hand into your shorts. “That Friday night, we touched each other, talked about what your cunt might taste like.”

Her words have you breathless and you collapse into Tatum when her fingers press against your clit. “Fuck!” Tatum giggles into your neck, pressing down harder, circling your clit before pressing her fingers inside you slowly.

“Just last week, actually, I had Tate bent over right where you’re sitting, fucking her as hard as I could. Even left bruises, but the whole time we were talking about how if you were here, she’d have her face buried in that pretty pussy of yours.”

“Please,” You whimper. Sidney’s words were affecting you almost as much as Tatum’s fingers, which were pumping into you lazily. It felt good, so fucking good, but you needed more.

“Please what?” Tatum asks, her hand stalling and for a second you panic thinking that she’ll stop, that she and Sidney will laugh at you, telling you this was just a prank, that you were a perverted freak for even thinking that they’d actually be into you.

Sidney repeats the question, her voice mocking, and you swallow hard. You never, ever, would have expected this kind of talk from Sidney. She was sweet, bordering on shy, but here, now? She had a dark look on her face and a smile with no humor behind it. “Please touch me…”

“Aww, you hear that Tate,” Sidney coos, grabbing ahold of your shorts and underwear and pulling them down quickly. You were bared for both girls now and Sidney’s gaze rakes down your body, muttering a curse at the sight. You were wet, your slick dripping down your thighs and ass, a small wet spot appearing on the bedsheets under you. “She wants us to touch her.”

“So sweet.” Tatum says, grinning at Sidney. Sidney drags a finger down your thigh, avoiding your cunt purposely. You whine, moving your hips a tiny bit only to let out a yelp when Sidney gives you a harsh slap onto your thigh. “I don’t think she wants you to move, pretty girl,” Tatum remarks, kissing your shoulder.

You nod, taking a deep breath. Patience is a virtue after all. Sidney resumes her movements, eyeing you intently; any movement and you’d get another smack to your already marked thigh. “You alright with this?” She asks you finally and you can see a flash of worry in her eyes. “If anything makes you uncomfortable, you say the word and I stop, alright?”

“So sweet,” You say, parroting Tatums words from just a moment ago and Sidney snorts, elbowing your knee gently. “I promise I’m alright. This is…so hot,” You grin. “Like, I literally came to the thought of this happening last night.”

“That so?” The dark look is back on Sidneys face. “Tell us. I wanna hear everything that dirty little mind thought of, and if I like it enough, maybe I’ll be as kind as to turn that into a reality. Sound good?”

You give a hesitant nod, feeling your face heat up. This was not part of your dream, that’s for sure; all the things you wanted to happen just did, no communication necessary, but it was obvious Sidney and Tatum wanted to hear you as a way to embarrass you. It shouldn’t get you as wet as it does.

“Well… it started off like this, kind of, but instead of it being me, Tatum was getting teased.” Tatum lets out a fake scoff but you can hear the smile in it. “We made her cum god knows how many times and then it was your turn.

“I got to eat you out while Tate rode your face and fuck it was hot. You taste so good, I just know it.”

“She does,” Tatum says and suddenly she's grabbing ahold of your hair and pulling your back closer to her chest and then Sidney has her ass in the air while she bends over, her mouth on your pussy. Tatums hand wraps over your mouth as you moan, cooing into your ear about how beautiful you look like this.

Sidney’s tongue is moving quickly and expertly, her fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs. Your clit is her main focus and she switches between swirling the tip of her tongue over it and sucking it into her mouth. Your muffled moans only urge her on and she adds a finger, humming as it slides in easily.

“You’re doing so well baby,” Sidney says, pulling away from your cunt for just a second before diving back in. “Fuck, you’re tight,” She mutters, slipping in another finger. Your hips buck when she scissors them inside you and Tatum sucks in a sharp breath.

At their last sleepover, she and Sidney had imagined what kind of noises you’d make with one of their tongues buried inside you and here she was, witnessing it. It was fucking angelic. She was soaked watching this and grabs ahold of one of your hands, pulling it back to put inside her underwear. She wanted - no, needed - you to touch her.

You try your best to touch her, your movements sloppy and inexperienced, but she’s moaning into your ear and grinding down onto your palm and it makes Sidney's mouth feel that much better. There's no warning before you cum, the coil that was winding in your stomach suddenly snapping more intensely than it ever has before.

Tatum moves her hand away from your mouth as you cum, your moans of both their names etching into her brain like a prayer. Your hand never stops moving as Sidney fucks you through it and suddenly Tatum is cumming too. She’s grabbing your hand and pushing down hard against her clit, cursing loudly.

“God, you’re both so fucking hot,” Sidney says, sitting up now, her face and fingers covered in your juices. She leans in and Tatum grabs the back of her head, pulling her in for a kiss, sloppy and heated and beautiful. “C’mon, turn over. I need to fuck you,”

“I haven’t even gotten a taste yet, Sid,” Tatum pouts and you can feel your face burning at this; they were fighting over who got to use you next. “Plus, I’m sure she wants your cunt in her mouth already. That was a part of her fantasy, remember?”

Sidney considers this for a second, eyes darting between you two before sighing. “Fine, only because I’ll have plenty of time to do the things I want to do to both of you.” Tatum nudges you and you move down the bed, leaning back with a single pillow under your head. You watch as both Tatum and Sidney strip and you let out a small groan at the sight.

Neither of them were wearing bras. They were taking each other's clothes off and Tatum dropped to the floor as she pulled Sidney's thong down, breathing in her scent. “God, I could be down here all day babe, you know that?”

“Yeah, you say that every time you get to eat me out,” Sidney teases though she lets her head roll back and a sigh escapes when Tatum’s finger slides down her slit. “C’mon, I’m antsy,” She says finally, helping Tatum off the floor before kissing her. “Plus, we’re leaving Y/N out.”

“Trust me, I could watch that all day.”

“We have plenty of sleepovers coming up so don’t you worry about that, sweetheart.” Tatum says, taking her own underwear off. You sit up and pull your own shirt off now; you didn’t want to be the only one with your tits covered. “God you’re so sexy.” She says, crawling onto the bed and positioning herself between your legs.

Sidney walks over to the side of the bed, leaning over and kissing you. You can taste yourself on her tongue. She swings her leg over your body, scooting forwards slightly and positioning her cunt right above you. You can’t help but run your hands over her body, starting at her back and running down, your nails digging into her skin just a bit.

Your hips buck when Tatum buries her face in your cunt and then Sidney is grabbing ahold of your hair and holding you still as she grinds down onto your face. She tastes even better than you could’ve dreamt. “Fuck, your tongue,” She moans, her thighs squeezing around your head. You wanted to suffocate here, the taste of her on your tongue.

Tatum is still eating you out and her tongue was fucking magical, dipping inside you and pressing against the spongy walls like it was made for it, like she knew exactly what to do to get the response she wanted from you.

“Fuck! God, you’re so fucking good at this,” Sidney says, grinding down against you again. Your nose was bumping against her clit, your tongue mimicking Tatum's. “I’m so fucking close, wanna cum in your mouth so bad baby, please,”

She didn’t have to ask; you were desperate for her to. You weren’t sure how you had survived this long without having her cunt on your face in all honesty.

Tatum hums against you, her hands in between her own legs, her hips grinding down against her palm. “Close,” You get out, somehow, lightheaded beyond belief, but there was no fucking way you were going to stop eating Sidney out.

You cum just before Sidney, your body twitching and your eyes squeezed shut. Tatum hadn’t even used her fingers on you and it felt like she had used three of them and a vibrator on you. When Sidney cums it’s with a loud whine, low in her throat, and she’s still grinding down onto your face roughly.

Your nose brushes against the tangle of hair on her, something both she and Tatum shared, and she finally moves, collapsing beside you with a huff. Her hair was sticking to her forehead, her cheeks bright pink and her chest heaving.

Tatum is still between your legs, her head in her hand and a sly grin. “So? Is it everything you’ve dreamed of, Y/N?”

“So much better.” You sit up onto your elbows, staring down at Tatum. “Though I do want to taste you.”

Let’s switch places then,” She says, biting at her bottom lip. Sidney was watching you both intently, her pupils dilated. As you and Tatum switch spots, Sidney reaches into her bed side table drawer, searching for her strap. It was a decent sized one with ridges that felt fucking godly when you were being pounded into the mattress.

“You ready to live out another one of your perverted little fantasies?”

[muichu]

hi could i request the TR boys(draken, sanzu, and baji) and their boyfriend holding/cupping their face for the first time? i feel like it would be such a new experience for them but then they’d instantly get addicted to their bf holding their face and ask for him to do it all the time (i hope that made sense)

a/n: OMFGGGGG MY FIRST REQUEST ILYSM <3333 this is such a cute idea!!! I hope you enjoy reading!!

Tokyo Revengers boys: their boyfriend cupping their faces for the first time

Pairs: draken x m!reader, sanzu x m!reader, baji x m!reader

Warnings: none!!

Genre: fluff

Draken

- this man would start blushing profusely because his cute boyfriend is cupping his face?!?!

- he would try to seem unaffected by it but it's not really working

- this is definitely not something he's used to because he's always the big guy, the protector, so this small gesture fills him with so much warmth and comfort :((((

- he finds it very cute and intimate even though it might seem like something small

- you cupping his face automatically becomes one of his most favourite feelings

"Y/n.." Draken says with a sigh as he feels your hands on his cheeks. His cheeks begin warming up and he tries to hide his face in the crook of your neck. He brings you into a hug and kisses the top of your head

"You're so cute, you're gonna be the death of me" he says as he releases you from his grasp. His face is still red as a tomato, making you smile at him softy. "You're even cuter!"

Sanzu

- he's really not used to intimacy, so when you first cupped his face, it shocked him a bit

- it makes him slightly stiffen a little but he ends up melting in your grasp and looking at you with heart eyes

- he absolutely LOVES the feeling of your hands on his cheeks, it ends up becoming the most comforting thing for him

- cupping his cheek makes him all soft and gooey which isn't something he normally feels and he REFUSES to let anyone see him like this, so the fact that he's letting you hold his face means he trusts you a lot :((

Sanzu's eyes widen a bit as he feels you cupping your hands on his cheeks. "Y/n, what are you doing?" he asks. You smile at him, brushing your fingers over his lip scars which makes him melt from cuteness. A slight blush creeps its way onto his face as he leans into your touch.

"You're so cute" you say quietly, your fingers still hovering over his scars. "Don't say that kind of stuff" he grumbles as his blush begins to grow. You pull away but not before leaving a soft kiss against his cheek

Baji

- he's kinda confused at first, but when he realises what you're doing, his eyes immediately fill with hearts

- he cups your cheeks back and starts peppering your face with little kisses

- it makes him feel all warm and giddy :(((

- like draken, he finds it super cute and intimate

- becomes super clingy afterwards and teases you a bit too

"Y/n? What are you doing?" Baji asks as he feels your hands on his cheeks. You brush his cheeks with your fingers with a warm smile on your face. That sight alone makes him wanna combust because you're just too cute!!!!

"My pretty boy" you whisper. His hands come to cup your face too, grabbing it and leaving kisses all over your face. "You're the pretty boy here" he whispers against your ears, kissing your cheek before the both of you let go of each other.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed reading!!! Sorry if this isn't up to your standards, I haven't written anything in a while </3

navigation

[pockcock]

for the A-Z headcanons...

S for levi and reiner 🤤

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR REQUEST <3333 I'm sorry it's taking so long :((

dirty a-z headcanon game (aot)

MINORS DNI

Levi Ackerman and Reiner Braun & Sleepy

S - Sleepy sex (do they give oral to wake their partner up? do they like receiving oral to wake up? do they like fucking their partner awake? being fucked awake? how about being fucked to sleep at night? do they have lazy morning sex?)

Levi Ackerman

Levi. Send tweet.

Levi. Send tweet.

Isayama himself said that Levi sleeps only for 2-3 hours a day

That changed when he started eating you out before he sleeps

We all know Levi is a clean freak

But this man eats you, sorry DEVOURS YOU

He is not gonna let you cum so soon

Quote "I'm the kind of person who saves the best bite for last."

He will eat you out like it's his last day on earth

His tongue goes in your wet hole and he hums to vibrate it

HE WANTS TO HEAR YOU BEG

"Levi, p-please! I can't handle it anymore! Please!"

How can you expect him to stay calm after hearing your sweet moans?

He replaces his tongue with his long fingers

This man knows your sweet spot like the back of his hand and you don't know how he does it

Whenever his fingers come into contact with your walls, they find it

It's like a reflex for him

I don't feel like he would talk a lot since he is busy getting drunk on you

He is the type of man who gets pleasure from your pleasure

The king <3

When you cum, he wants you to crush his head with your thighs

He licks his lips after he is done with you, chin glistening with your juices but he doesn't care

He likes sleeping on top of you, nose buried into the crook of your neck

His "I love you"s are caressing your cheek with his thumb until he sleeps

Levi gets so emotional after a very heated moment

Mornings with him... whole another story

Wanna see him begging, trembling, shaking?

Suck. Him. Off.

Slowly go down on him by kissing, starts from his forehead to his neck, then his collarbones and his v-line

"uh-brat..."

Don't mind him, he doesn't like cute pet names

Maybe "baby"?

Mayhaps

Kiss his balls and let him show you the sound of the gods

His usual deep voice becomes soft and high pitched once he gets close

"Fuck!"

He doesn't say much but you know how close he is by the buckling of his hips

Ah, this man

Pushes himself all the way down when he cums so he doesn't make a mess

And THIS BITCH

If you're late, he'll fuck you

Oh boy he is a smug

"It's your fault."

He marks visible areas and makes sure you can't cover his mark

You're wearing a lowcut? Your chest. A regular shirt? Your neck. Sleeveless turtleneck? Your shoulders.

He just loves you.

Reiner Braun

King of sleepy sex

Soft boy calling you "dove" in the mornings

He is a war chief and you're warrior so don't expect week-day-sex

Saturday mornings and nights

Sunday mornings

He loves Sunday mornings

Sun kissing your skin with a golden color

He would giggle seeing you scrunch your face with discomfort to the feeling of the sun

"Close the blinds...."

"Morning to you too, dove."

Leaning on his elbow, his fist under his chin, Reiner watches you waking up

He pulls your hair away from your face

HIS SMILE 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

He kisses your lips, mumbling sweet nothings

Mostly pet names

"Lovebird"

"Budgie"

His fave is "Dove"

His fingers drawing circles on your arm

Then he holds your hand, bringing it to his lips, kissing softly

Everything is just soft with Reiner

You don't even realize he put a finger in you

"So wet, so soft, so warm... Just for me."

He loves putting your panties aside and sliding in

The sound he makes....

You both are too sleepy to pick a better position so you stick with missionary (but he can put you in 7 positions for 70 minutes too)

His cock is so good

His thrusts become more erratic as he frees himself from the sweet arms of sleep

"Reiner!"

He would do anything for your scream

He loves your scream, please be louder

He hits your cervix. every. single. damn. time.

He likes seeing your eyes rolled back

He'll make you cum with him, he likes it better that way

His morning voice is now raspier and huskier with arousal

He growls when he cums inside of you

Prepare yourself for a nice bath afterward

He'll clean you up

He'll hug you tight

Your back to his chest, he is in love

He'd do anything for you

© 2021 sunshinedragonofthewest. All rights reserved. Do not modify, copy, repost my work.

[universallychaoticpan]

Hi! While I was reading ur chuuya Fics and its AMAZING okay ❤ITS REAL FOOD❤ WHY ARE U SO UNDERRATED?!?! UR ONESHOTS ARE SO POETIC!!! and Then I read that young Dazai, Chuuya and Reader are the MAFIA'S "UNHOLY TRINITY" and im like NOW IM CURIOUS🤩 like How did they become that trio group? How did Chuuya catch feelings for our badass BITCH reader? Is Dazai still an asshole or did he become chuuya's wingman? Ahhahah if ur request is not open then its okay u can just ignore me😇✌🏻and please don't feel pressured I can wait!!! I HOPE U HAVE A NICE darling❤

Hi hello!!! No kidding, you've got me blushing so hard, thank you so much! I'm honestly thrilled people respond to my work at all so truly thank you; also thank you for being patient with me, I've been out of town. And yes, unholy trinity is superior and I love to write it. Thank you for your kind words and your request, come back anytime and I hope this is what you were looking for. <3333

Sometimes it was far to easy to forget how young to were; others, it was too easy to forget just who you were. It made you laugh, if you were honest, how you could be three teenagers on the street, unknown to the world but only hours later, you were the terror of the city. You were the triple headed beast of the mafia's jeweled hand, barely restrained only sedated by the endless coin and numbness that would follow you if you went anywhere else. So the three of you were christened in blood at the altar of the guns placed in your hands, diamonds and lives simply chess pieces on the boards of your manic glee that waxed and waned as fickle as the children you weren't allowed to leave behind in peace. But even so, you were stunning; dark clothes and darker eyes, your names rolling off so many tongues in whispers and screams. Truly, you were the portrait of evil's prodigies: the two boys you had been raised beside on either side of you, cracked and crooked crowns on your heads while your hands dripped and overflowed in pearls chaining you together and your eyes staring dead ahead into the souls of friend and foe alike.

Mori used you well; you were his trump card, the three of you, and he knew how to project the image he needed. He had plucked you and Dazai both from the streets, clawed and fierce as he needed. Chuuya had come next, approached by the dual heirs of the Mafia not to long ago. You trained together, fought together from that day on, nursed your wounds together when you should have been sleeping and laughed together; the infant trinity of the most powerful children in Yokohama. Still, between you all, it was always you enduring his long stares, his right hand on your shoulder as he stood between you and the only two who could possibly protect you from him. You were a real life Elise, and from the first day, he fixed his gaze upon you and promised you would be his tigress. You entered parties on his arm, Dazai and Chuuya on his left while your fingers clawed into the fabric of his jacket as you smiled against your revulsion. So you were tonight, cold and unflinching beauty as the mafias masked patrons sent your names rippling through their masses, descending from your pedestals and sending lovely ripples through the illusion of yourselves as gods.

"I'm getting a drink," you muttered, once the three of you were off the hook for the night. "don't leave; if I get cornered by that asshole like last time I'm coming for you both."

"I'm terrified," Dazai snorted, "watch out, Nakahara, or she'll stab us with those pointy shoes she's got on."

"Oh shut it, idiot," you laughed, punching him in the shoulder.

He moaned dramatically and fell into Chuuya, who pushed him off with a disgruntled chortle as you leaned into the redhead. "Seriously, don't leave me here. I don't trust anyone here as far as I can throw them."

"If you did, I wouldn't trust you," he muttered back. "We've got your back."

With a nod, you walked off, hips swaying on just the wrong side of innocent as the crowd parted for you. They noted your companion's focus on you, and they knew what it meant; even for the most elite of Yokohama, the crown jewel of the Port Mafia was not one to be trifled with.

"You gonna stop staring at her ass anytime soon?"

Chuuya smacked his dark haired friend while the later shielded his face. "Ok ok, I was kidding- and jeez watch the suit would you?"

"Why? Got a hot date we don't know about?"

"Nope. And neither do you, despite your best efforts."

Dazai's smug smile and his chirpy retort earned him another punch and nothing else as Chuuya rolled his eyes.

"Seriously, though," he drawled, draping himself over Chuuya's shoulders, "when are you gonna make a move on her?"

"One does not simply make a move on a girl like that," he replied. "she could tear my arm off and beat me with the unpleasant end."

"Look at it this way," Dazai mused, "at least then she'd hold your hand."

"Shut up, dumbass."

"No no, hear me out-"

"No, Dazai, listen- shut the hell up."

Their guns were in their hands in seconds; the room was loud but it was the wrong kind of noise. It was uneasy and forced as if someone had commanded each person in their not to stop the dancing and the drinking unless they wanted a bullet in their heads.

"Where is she," Chuuya muttered. "She should have been back by now."

"Dunno," Dazai replied. "I lost her a few minutes back"

A dark presence behind them had them frozen in the next second; their hands were positioned the same way, guns pointed at the floor while they tried to remain as discreet as they could.

"Something's wrong." The woman in crimson sounded uneasy, her normally steady voice now laced with uncertainty. "Mori wants you out- get y/n and go, now. Don't look suspicious, but get out of here and get back to the stronghold."

"Running isn't a good look on us," Chuuya argued. "We can stay and fight- we're the strongest you have."

Koyo shook her head. "Running isn't a good look for you, but the three heirs to the Port Mafia dead isn't a good look for us either. Hence, discretion. I'm not asking, and neither is Mori; He doesn't want to risk it. I don't suppose either of you wants to explain why you're still here?"

They shook their heads, making the woman smile. "Good. Now go."

Dazai walked into the fray, Chuuya at his side as their eyes scanned the faces around them. "Too many damn people," Dazai murmured. Even as they walked, they could feel the energy of the room shift and grow tense. "This place is a time bomb," Chuuya answered. "Not sure why they wanted the three of us out, but I'm not eager to stick around."

"What happened to running not being a good look for us?"

"Lets just find her and go."

The lights cutting out cut them short. The screaming that followed sent Chuuya's head spinning and the gunshots that silenced them did nothing but leave him with the beat of his now racing heart as his eyes rose to the mezzanine. You still looked deadly; your eyes were wild and your hair was loose, feet bare as some strange man kept his arm around your waist, your hands bound in front of you while he pressed a gun lazily to your temple.

"Mori Ogai- your pet's life is all that's hanging in my hands here. My reuqest is simple; the other two, or she dies." High above, you cursed yourself for being caught off guard the way you had. Disappointment filled your body but you shoved it down- you had no time to wallow. If they were as smart as they were supposed to be, they would hold themselves; you needed them to wait. The man's hold on you was loose and lazy. He underestimated you; the fact would have normally irked you and while tonight was no exception, on this particular occasion, it was your advantage.

Meanwhile, the oily man in question was beside the two boys in an instant, bristling while Chuuya's ability began to hum under his skin. In the next, though, Dazai's hand was on him, quenching the red light before it could catch anyone's eye.

"Let me go," he hissed. Dazai's eyes didn't move from you when he answered.

"Don't be stupid. As of now they don't know where we are meaning we have the upper hand."

"They have y/n," Chuuya growled in response. "How the hell do we have the upper hand?"

"They have y/n," he said, "who as you have just established rivals the both of us; some idiot with a gun is no issue for her."

Chuuya wasn't convinced. "So why hasn't she done anything?"

Dazai's dark head shook as he scoffed. "Think Nakahara! From up there she sees everything; she's waiting to see we're alright because as soon as she makes her move, we're off and running."

And as if on cue, your eyes found the shocking blue ones you had been watching for. Your eyes flickered to the door, fingers buzzing with the promise of a fight while the boys readied themselves. If anyone had blinked, they would have missed it- your body flying up and around your captor, lithe and strong as your foot connected with his jaw. Missing no chance, you ran- you ran and jumped, the chandelier swinging as your fingers scrambled to find purchase on the glittering surface. The guns were firing all around now; port mafia agents and the enemy who had infiltrated orchestrating a symphony of chaos as the glamorous attendees began to shriek and run for the doors. Dazai and Chuuya were back to back without a word, the both of them running towards you as soon as they saw the flash of you as you tore across the room.

"Assassins" you gasped as you ran. "Grabbed me while I was distracted."

"You alright?"

You nodded, throwing open the door and leading the way into the night.

"We're being followed."

Dazai's voice was hushed and urgent, bringing all three of your hands back to your guns as you came to a stop in the dark lobby of the grandiose place.

"No abilities- they'll cause too much damage and be too noticeable." Mimicking Dazai, your own words were quick and quiet. The others took no issue and circled up beside you; Chuuya on your right, Dazai on your left when your enemies came in. They were stupid- the two with abilites came in with their hand lit and their movements seen when began to fire. The three of you sprang off like arrows in three directions, blows landing in the shadows and muted gun shots sending bodies sprawling to the floor. It took seconds before you were the only three seconds and only two more before you were out the door and back in your realm.

This was where you shone; swinging through doorways and around corners before the few eyes awake at that hour could register your presence in their minds. You ran to the top of the world, the top of your city, perching on the edge of the complex you called home while the wind whistled its wild song gently around you. And when Chuuya turned to look at you, eyes closed with your hair brushed from the moonlit silhouettes of your face, he could feel his breath catch in his throat. You were deadly before; from up here, you were angelic in the worst way. You could steal a soul with a look at the age of 16; how much more would you become?

How many more hearts would you entrance like you had his?

You stole his gaze with no effort and as Dazai looked on to the two people he loathed to love the most , he smirked at the detail his redheaded comrade had overlooked:

The entire time you had been running, the entire time your lives had been pleasurably threatened - because let's face it, the three of you were never in any real danger from petty killers such as those - your hands had been firmly intertwined. Your bodies had moved in sync beside one another, and your hand had been in his.

And perhaps Chuuya wasn't so hopeless after all if the silver blush on your cheeks was any indication. Only time would tell; lovely lonely time would shape and change you and Dazai smiled at the thought. Because the Mafia, with all it's glitter and dark allure, couldn't possibly shine brighter than Chuuya's eyes when he looked at you; brighter than the stars in the sky he would steal and string around your neck if you asked.

All for you.

[rotshop]

Give me Wank and Reader domestic fluff Oooo you want to so bad ooooo you want to write Wank fluff and comfort so fucking bad

UR RIGHT I DO ..... kind of short and bad bc i am so so sleepy ..

-right of f the bat she is not good w/ comforting words . like . at all. they do not come 2 her in the momen t very well and she just never really knows what to say. HOWEVER ..... she's very good at providing company,, whether thats by just sitting down around you and waiting till u calm down OR if its more of her holding you close ...

-speaking of being held by her is a godly experienc e . she's vry warm and strong ,, has a habit of just kinda pulling you to her rwhen you get upset n just holds you close ,,, runs her hand over your back n lets you stay like that for as long as u need ,,,, if u seem exhausted she'll kinda put a hand on the back of ur head and push u to rest ur head on her chest or in the crook of her neck or something for a little while ...

-n e way more domestic hcs

-its. odd. its a bit more openly domestic than say hank but its still not super like traditional. she sucks at cooking so i hope ur able to accept that there's 0 way she can make breakfast or whatever for y'all (you can try and teach her if u want . she does her best but shes just . lost. you say something to her and she just like stops and looks around for a moment and then looks back at you desperately for help.) . she IS however very good at fucking up ur ability to get up in the morning. she's always holding onto you and you WILL have to try and bargain with her 2 be freed. she tends to wake up pretty late if she's able to . on any off days usually she'll wanna spend a good bit of it just catching up on sleep w/ you ,,

-she melts whnever you seek her out n show affection. if you ever find her after she's done training and is cleaning her weapons up n just kinda. wrap ur arms around her from behind / the side she can't help but lean into it, whether that be by reaching to put an arm around you as well or by just . actually leaning into you ( A LITTLE . she's careful to not tip u over) . also not immune to going bonkers whenever you let her lay on u instead ,, you sometimes go on missions w/ her and some other people n while someone else's driving back to base you'll just kinda. pat your lap or stomach or whatever and she'll like. pause for a sec before quickly scooting over n just kinda. flopping onto u (yes it usually knocks the wind out of you <333)

-likes seeing you steal her clothes :] esp if they're a bit big on you, its just cute to her ,,, even if its just like . some sleep shirt she wears every now and then she just goes 'wow <333 my s/o <3333' when she notices.