#a softer world prompts

[gyokujyn]

CATWS 10th Anniversary | April 4th » Prompts: Devotion for @catws-anniversary

a loving homage to A Softer World and @asofteravenger

[softerbaseball]

[1245] we don't need words

[frogfishwastaken]

Weirdly specific science-y settings for romance stories i wish people would use more often

1. Old timey research boat

Reasoning: The ANGST POTENTIAL JUST THINK ABOUT IT LIKE THE OCEAN??? Very dangerous, cramped cabins, emotional/actual storm potential, PLUS YOU GET TO USE SEA CREATURES AS METAPHORS?? HELLO?? BONDING OVER NEW SCIENTIFIC DISCOVERIES?

2. Abandoned research outpost with only the necessary personnel left to shut it down

Reasoning: could be AMAZING for enemies to lovers, abandoned by institutions that they sold their lives to and finding solace and empathy in each other, also good potential for a tragic kind of story, like trying to force something because you love it, you love them, but it will never really work, and again the METAPHORS

3. Caribou trapper and ecologist cross paths in the Arctic tundra

Reasoning: similar vein as the abandoned research outpost, understanding each others worlds etc etc. SO much angst potential like just imagine the kind of shenanigans they could get up to with almost-frozen ponds and dark middays and deep snow banks. (Also I want to write a book and name it “where the ice sings and the sky dances” because of reasons)

4. Stuck in the middle generation of a generation ship

Reasoning: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHUUGHUGHHUH

6. Paleontology dig on another planet

Reasoning: VENUS/PLANET OF LOVE/WAS DESTROYED BY GLOBAL WARMING/DID ITS PEOPLE WANT TOO MUCH TOO/DID ITS PEOPLE WANT TOO MUCH

7. Rural cyberpunk

Reasoning: gonna be honest I don’t know what rural cyberpunk would look like but it would be really interesting I think. You get the rural kind of loneliness and tractors and cold winters and strange animals in the night but you also get the cyberpunk aspect and how it pushes the boundaries of death, life, and humanity, the weird lights and cybernetics, and you can see the ways in which these two worlds could collide AND ONE PERSON COUKD BE LIKE A RUNAWAY FROM A CYBERPUNK CITY HIDING OUT IN THE COUNTRY AAAA

[drewharrisonwriter]

Softer

Status: One Shot, Complete.

Pairings: No Outbreak Joel Miller x Female Reader

Summary: Marriage has been good to Joel—he’s happier, softer, and maybe a little pudgier.

Word Count: 1,592 words

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), dirty talk, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected sex (hehe), mentions of weight gain, body appreciation, strong language

A/N: This fic was written for @beefrobeefcal’s Married Joel Sits on You Challenge! Am I too late for this challenge? 😅 Please forgive me for any mistakes, English is not my first language and it's my first time joining such a challenge, and I utterly enjoyed it. Thank you so much Beefro for this 💖

The prompt was: "Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline."

P.S. Do you enjoy my writing? If so, I’d truly appreciate any support through comments, likes, and reblogs! If you’re able, donations or writing commissions would also mean the world to me as I’m currently managing everything from my phone due to financial constraints. You can donate here or DM me your commission ideas. Thank you so much for your love and support! 💜

Read this on AO3 | Check out my Masterlist

Joel adjusted his sunglasses, glancing at his reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. It was late afternoon, and they’d just come back up from the beach to their hotel room. He scratched his beard, tugging his shirt down over his belly, feeling the fabric cling just a little too snugly.

Tommy’s teasing echoed in his mind. "You packin’ some extra cargo these days, big brother?" The little shit had poked his side earlier as they lounged by the beach, laughing like it was the funniest thing in the world.

"Asshole," Joel muttered under his breath.

You glanced up at him, curious. "What’s that, honey?"

Joel shook his head, giving you a half-smile. "Nothin’, sweetheart. Just thinkin'." He hooked an arm around your waist, pulling you close as the elevator doors slid open. You walked out together, your hand slipping down to his lower back as you strolled through the quiet hallway.

“Tommy’s words still botherin’ you?” you asked softly, your voice coming off with gentle teasing. You gave his belly a playful squeeze. “He’s full of shit, Joel. I love you like this. Tommy don’t know what he’s talkin’ about.”

Joel grunted in response, though a small smile tugged at his lips. He didn’t say anything as you continued walking, but you could feel the tension in his body slowly easing under your touch.

Once you reached your suite, Joel swiped the keycard, and you both rushed inside, quickly locking the door behind you. You double-checked the lock, raising an eyebrow at him. “You sure you locked it, Joel? You know how those girls are… Wouldn’t put it past Sarah or Ellie to barge in at the wrong moment.”

Joel let out a low chuckle, his hands finding your waist as he pulled you close. “I ain’t paid this much for a vacation just to get interrupted when I’m tryin’ to make another baby with my hot wife,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper. “Trust me, darlin’. That door ain’t budging.”

A playful grin tugged at your lips as you teased, “Baby, aren’t you a little old for a newborn?”

Joel cut his eyes at you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’re real funny, you know that?” He dipped his head, brushing his lips against yours. “Doesn’t matter how old I am. If it were up to me, I’d keep you pregnant all the damn time.”

Your body flushed at his words, the heat between you flaring with the roughness in his tone. “Yeah?” you whispered, your voice thick with need. “You’d keep me pregnant, huh?”

Joel’s hands slid down to your ass, squeezing as he pulled you close. “Damn right. We could start right now if you want,” he growled, kissing the side of your neck. “Or maybe after a couple more vacations like this one.” His lips traveled lower, sucking a mark just beneath your ear.

Your breath caught as you smiled, running your fingers through his hair. “I don’t mind more vacations first,” you teased, your hands wandering down his back as the two of you continued to make out as you made your way toward the bed.

Joel’s large frame practically caged you in as he guided you down onto the plush mattress. You tugged at his shirt, pulling it off as he hovered over you, his body solid and warm. His fingers made quick work of your bikini top, tossing it aside.

As he leaned over you, your hand ghosted over his once-firm stomach. Marriage had been good to Joel. His mental health and financial stability had improved, and he seemed overall a happier person. The only drawback seemed to be the effect it had on his waistline.

“You look so good…” you hummed. 

Joel’s expression softened for a moment, his thumb brushing over your cheek as he kissed you. “You mean I’ve gone fat?” He grinned before leaning in, his lips grazing your ear.

You laughed, cupping his face. “I love it,” you assured him, pulling him in for another kiss, deeper this time.

As you kissed, Joel’s hand slid between your legs, fingers dipping into the wet heat between your thighs. “Goddamn, baby,” he groaned against your mouth, his fingers teasing your entrance before sliding two thick digits inside you, curling them just right.

Your body jerked at the sensation, and you whimpered softly, “Jesus, Joel!” It’s pretty good and scary at the same time that he knows exactly where and where to curl his fingers inside you to hit that soft spot that makes you see stars. 

His fingers worked inside you, while drawing slow circles on your clit with his thumb that had your hips bucking up toward him. “So needy,” he murmured, “But you’re gonna have to wait, sweetheart. Wanna take my time with you.”

You gasped, head falling back against the bed as he worked you over, his free hand holding your hip steady. The rough pad of his thumb brushed over your clit, and the pressure was just enough to send sparks flying through your body. “Fuck, Joel…”

Joel growled, his mouth closing over your breast, his tongue swirling around your nipple before sucking it into his mouth. You moaned at the sensation, your body arching into his touch as his fingers continued their slow, torturous rhythm inside you.

Your hands tangled in his hair, tugging hard as the pleasure built deep in your core. He kissed his way back up to your lips, his beard rough against your skin as he murmured, “You’re gonna cum for me, baby. But not yet.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and your body trembled beneath him as he finally pulled his fingers out, leaving you gasping for breath.

“I need you, Joel,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with need. “Please…”

Joel positioned himself between your legs, the head of his cock pressing against your entrance. “You’re gonna take every inch of me, darlin’,” he rasped, his voice thick with lust. “Gonna bury myself so deep inside you, I’ll be the only thing you can feel.”

With one slow, deliberate thrust, Joel buried himself to the hilt, his cock stretching you wide as his blunt tip kissed your cervix. You gasped, your hands flying to his shoulders, clinging to him as he held himself still, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Fuck, baby,” Joel groaned, his forehead pressed against yours as he began to move, each slow thrust hitting deeper than the last. “You feel so good… so fuckin’ tight around me.”

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he picked up the pace, his cock dragging against every nerve inside you, setting your body on fire. “Joel…” you gasped, your voice breathless.

He leaned down, his lips closing over one of your nipples again, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak before sucking hard. The sensation sent a jolt of pleasure straight to your core, and you moaned, your hips rolling up to meet each of his thrusts.

Joel groaned, his hand sliding between your bodies to rub slow circles on your clit. “Cum for me, baby,” he growled, his voice rough and commanding. “Wanna feel you cum all over my cock.”

Your body responded instantly, the tension snapping as your orgasm crashed over you. You cried out, your walls clenching tight around him, your vision going white as a wave of pleasure rippled through you.

Joel’s hips stuttered as you came, and with a deep groan, he buried himself to the hilt one last time, his cock pulsing as he filled you with his release. He collapsed on top of you, both of you panting and trembling from the intensity of it all.

After a few moments, Joel gently rolled off you, still catching his breath as he sat up on the edge of the bed. “Don’t move, darlin’,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. He returned moments later with a warm, damp towel, gently cleaning you up with tender strokes.

“C’mere,” Joel whispered, tossing the towel aside and pulling you into his arms. You curled up against his chest, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into a blissful daze. He kissed the top of your head, his large hand rubbing slow circles on your back. 

“You okay, sweetheart?”You smiled sleepily, nuzzling into his chest and just humming your reply. 

Joel chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair. “Good thing we locked that door. Last thing I need is Sarah or Ellie walkin’ in while we’re busy.”

You snickered, burying your face into his chest with a soft laugh. “We’ve done a good job avoidin’ that so far.”

Joel sighed contentedly, running his hand along your back. “Yeah, but I swear, if they catch us one day, Tommy’s gonna have a field day. He’s already givin’ me shit about puttin’ on a little weight.”

You laughed harder, resting your chin on his chest as you looked up at him, your hand slowly sliding down to his soft belly. “This pudge’s the proof you’re enjoyin’ yourself, Joel.”

Joel chuckled, his chest rumbling as he pulled you closer. “Hell, maybe you’re right,” he admitted with a smirk. “Can’t say I’m complainin’, though.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest. “I love you like this. Softer, but still strong.”

Joel squeezed you gently, his voice quieter. “Feels good, don’t it? Finally bein’ able to enjoy things.” 

You could only hum in response. You let sleep take you, safe in the warmth of his arms.

[mythicalmaven]

hiya! Could i please have number 1 with charles leclerc from the prompt list please? Extra smutty with a super needy reader please xxx

Racing Pulse - Charles LeClerc (request)

Masterlist ↳pairing: charles leclerc x female!driver!reader ↳word count: 1,9K ↳prompts used: 1 - 'Use my thigh" ↳warnings: reader is an f1 academy driver, charles and her are friends, thigh riding, voyeurism (kind of? if you count charles letting her use his thigh), masturbation (sort of) ↳summary: The reader is a driver for the f1 academy & finds herself very very sexually frustrated before the race, leading to Charles offering her a way to relief herself.

The roar of engines echoes through the garage, a constant reminder of the race ticking closer with every passing second. But no matter how hard you try to focus, your mind keeps wandering, pulled back to the gnawing frustration that’s been simmering beneath the surface. You’re pacing, restless, the usual pre-race jitters replaced by something far more distracting. You’re wound so tight you think you might snap, and it’s only making the tension worse.

Just as you were about to kick against the wall, you catch Charles watching you from across the room. His eyes narrow, noticing your agitation, and before you can look away, he’s already making his way over, concern laced in his steady stride. “You look like you’re about to combust,” he says, his voice pitched low, so only you can hear. “What’s going on?”

You roll your eyes, trying to brush off his teasing, but the tension inside you only tightens. "Nothing, nothing," you huff, attempting to sound normal, but the frustration seeps through. "Everything is going peachy."

Charles raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Yeah, totally, that's why you were about to kick a table, huh?" he quips, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

A frustrated sigh escapes you, and you run a hand through your hair, the pent-up energy making it impossible to stay still. "Okay, fine," you admit, glancing around to make sure no one else is within earshot. "I'm just... sexually frustrated, alright?"

He blinks, then a laugh bubbles out of him, not mocking but genuinely amused by your candid confession. "Seriously? That’s what’s got you all twisted up?"

You huff again, this time more at yourself than at him. "Yes, Charles. And it’s driving me insane. And no, I’m not joking."

His laughter fades, but the smile remains, a little softer now. "I could help with that, you know," he says, surprising you with the seriousness in his tone.

You furrow your brow, tilting your head to the side. "Do you, though? I mean, this isn’t just some casual frustration. I need... well, you know."

Charles steps closer, his expression unreadable, but his eyes are locked on yours. "Yeah, I know," he says simply, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. As he looked at you, leaning against the wall, he moved to the table near you, leaning against it with his backside, his hands behind him on the table to hold him up.

You blink, processing his words. "Wouldn't it be weird," you start, hesitating slightly, "You know, most friends don’t just... do that. And besides, we don't even have time to go anywhere private, the race is starting soon"

He chuckles, the sound low and warm. "Friends are supposed to help each other out, aren’t they?"

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s pulling you in by your wrist, his voice dropping to a whisper. "And even if you let me help, you wouldn’t have to go anywhere."

You raise an eyebrow, confusion flickering across your face. "Charles, how—?"

"Use my thigh," he murmurs, his tone calm but with an edge of something darker. His gaze flickers to the shadows around you, the secluded corner of the garage where the angle and low light provide a surprising amount of privacy. "No one would be able to see from here. And with the noise out there, it’ll just look like we’re talking, getting close to hear each other better."

Your breath catches, the idea sparking something deep within you. The tension that’s been gnawing at you suddenly has an outlet, and the suggestion is as thrilling as it is scandalous.

For a moment, you hesitate, the absurdity of the situation battling with the undeniable pull of desire. But Charles's gaze is steady, reassuring, and there's something in the way he looks at you—like this is just another challenge, another hurdle to overcome together.

You swallow hard, nodding ever so slightly. The moment the decision is made, Charles shifts closer, his hands finding your waist as he guides you to straddle his thigh. The heat of his body seeps through the fabric of your suit, and the tension you’ve been battling for hours seems to tighten and ease all at once.

“Just relax,” Charles murmurs, his voice low and husky, the vibration of his words sending a shiver down your spine. He pulls you closer until you’re pressed up against him, the thickness of his thigh positioned perfectly between your legs. “No one can see a thing, I promise.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself as his hands settle on your hips. He gives an experimental roll of his thigh, and the friction against your clothed core draws a sharp gasp from your lips. The sensation is maddening, just enough to stoke the fire that’s been smoldering inside you, but not nearly enough to satisfy.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your ear. “Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. “I can feel how much you need this.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep quiet, but he’s relentless. His hands guide your movements, encouraging you to grind against him, each subtle shift sending sparks of pleasure through your body. The friction is delicious, the pressure just right, and it’s all the more intense because of how forbidden it feels, knowing anyone could walk by at any moment.

“Charles,” you breathe out, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and disbelief. You feel him lean in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Let go,” he murmurs, his tone dropping to a seductive rumble. “No one can hear you over the engines. No one’s watching. It’s just us.”

His words are your undoing. You start to move with more purpose, pressing down harder, seeking out that sweet spot that will tip you over the edge. Charles tightens his grip on your hips, guiding you with a slow, deliberate rhythm that’s both torturous and perfect.

You begin to rock your hips against Charles’s thigh, the friction sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The need that’s been gnawing at you for days flares up, making you desperate, and you can’t help but lean your head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his warmth as you move. Each grind sends a wave of heat rushing through you, and you cling to him, trying to suppress the whimpers that threaten to escape.

Charles’s breath hitches slightly, but he stays composed, his hands steady on your hips as he guides your movements. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice low and sultry, lips brushing against your ear. “So needy, so desperate… What’s got you so worked up like this?”

You let out a small, frustrated whine, your voice strained with need. “I-I haven't really had.. any sex lately,” you admit, your words barely a whisper as you press yourself harder against him, trying to find the relief you crave.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Poor thing,” he coos, a teasing edge to his tone. “You know, I could always help you with that… if you want. All you have to do is say the word.”

You bite your lip, suppressing a moan as the pleasure builds, the fabric of your clothes rubbing deliciously against your throbbing core. The wetness between your legs is undeniable now, soaking through your panties, your racing suit and onto his thigh. You know he can feel it too, and the realization only makes you grind down harder, your desperation growing with every passing second.

A small, breathless moan escapes you, and in a desperate attempt to stifle the sound, you lean in and bite down lightly on Charles’s shoulder. His grip on your hips tightens, a soft groan escaping his lips as you continue to grind against him.

“Charles, I need more,” you whimper, the words slipping out in a moment of vulnerability. Your voice is heavy with desperation, your body trembling with the effort to find release.

Charles’s breath is warm against your ear as he leans in closer. “Oh, chérie, I’d give you everything you want, mon amour,” he whispers, his voice like velvet. “But you don’t have time, remember? You have a race to win.”

His words are a cruel tease, and the ache between your legs only intensifies. He continues to guide your movements, setting a slow, torturous rhythm that keeps you on the edge, but never lets you fall over it.

“If we had the time,” Charles murmurs, his tone dark and seductive, “I’d have you spread out in front of me, completely bare. I’d take my time with you, taste every inch of you until you’re begging for more.”

Your breath hitches at his words, the vivid image sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you. You can’t help but glance down, your eyes widening slightly when you see the clear outline of his erection straining against his jeans. The sight of him, hard and ready beneath you, only spurs you on, and you quicken your pace, grinding down on him with more urgency.

Charles’s breath grows heavier, his chest rising and falling with each ragged inhale. “God, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice laced with need. “I love seeing you like this, so desperate, so willing to take what you need.”

Just as you feel yourself getting close, the heat building to a fever pitch, someone walks past, calling out a quick greeting. You freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you fight to keep your breathing steady. Charles’s hands tighten on your hips, holding you still as he nods in acknowledgment, a casual smile on his face as if nothing is out of the ordinary.

Once the person is out of sight, Charles relaxes, letting out a breath he’s been holding. “We have to be careful,” he whispers, his tone a mix of warning and thrill. “Can’t have anyone catching us, can we?”

Without waiting for your response, he resumes the slow, deliberate grind, guiding you back into that maddening rhythm. The brief interruption only heightens the intensity, and you find yourself clinging to him, desperate for release.

“Come on,” Charles whispers, his voice both encouraging and commanding. “Go for it. I want to see you fall apart for me.”

His words, combined with the relentless friction and the feeling of his hard thigh pressing against you, push you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter, your body straining for that sweet release.

“I’m… I’m close,” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling as the pleasure becomes almost unbearable.

Charles responds by leaning in, his lips brushing against the curve of your neck in a barely-there kiss. To anyone watching, it would seem as if he’s simply whispering something to you, but the intimacy of the gesture makes your heart race even faster.

“Come for me, mon amour,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot and heavy. “I want to feel you let go.”

The combination of his words, the sensation of his lips on your neck, and the relentless pressure between your legs sends you spiraling over the edge. Your body tenses, a sharp cry escaping your lips as the orgasm crashes through you, waves of pleasure radiating out from your core. You bury your face in Charles’s shoulder, biting down on his jacket to muffle the sound, your entire body trembling with the intensity of it.

Charles’s hands hold you steady, guiding you through every pulse and shudder, his voice a soothing murmur in your ear. “That’s it,” he whispers, his tone filled with a mix of pride and desire. “Good girl. Let it all out.”

Masterlist

[lumiambrose]

sae x reader, fluff, part two

sae's soft launch of your relationship was completely accidental. to protect you from his diehard fans and the relentless paparazzi, he had kept your relationship almost completely secret. it was during an interview with the young prodigy that the incident happened. when asked about his ideal type, he casually replied with 'my girlfriend.'

you were viewing the live interview at home. sae looking as stoic as ever, answered the lukewarm questions of the interviewer with his usual mix of attitude and detachment. you knew there was a softer side to sae. a softer side he kept hidden from everyone else. of course on live television though, you were used to seeing the way—the famous football star and his icy attitude.

the interviewer was left in absolute surprise, clearly taken aback by his response. "your girlfriend?" she repeated his last words, eyes widening slightly.

sae nodded, "yes, my girlfriend," he said simply, his expression unchanging, like it's the most natural thing in the world.

your heart skipped a beat, and you could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. he had never mentioned you publicly before. you knew it was to protect you, but hearing him acknowledge you so openly filled you with a mix of pride and fear.

sae had finally made it home later that evening and thank god, you were filled with anticipation. as you heard the door unlock, you stood up from your spot in the living room and made your way to him, hear pounding, unable to contain yourself.

"sae!" you squealed. "did you really say that on live television?" you asked full of curiosity. of course, you already knew the answer, but you needed to hear it again, from him this time.

he simply nodded, wrapping his arms around you in a firm, protective embrace. "i did. it just slipped out," he admitted, his voice calm. "but i don't regret it. the world should know that you're my ideal."

he gave you some time to contain yourself before nodding ever so casually. he then wrapped his arms around you in a warm and firm embrace. "i did. it just slipped out," he admitted, his voice surprisingly calm considering the fact that you were, respectfully, losing your shit. "but i don't regret it. the world should know that you're my ideal."

finally getting that confirmation to the eventful series of event that kept you on your toes this evening, you looked up at him, eyes glistening with happiness. "i was so surprised, but... it made me really happy," you confessed, leaning your head against his chest.

his fingers ran gently through your hair as he tightened the embrace he had you in. "i'm glad," he murmured. "it’s going to bring you some unwanted attention, but i’ll protect you. i promise."

in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of love and security. sae had always been your rock, and now, even with the whole world watching, you knew he would stand by you.

sae has always been able to give you butterflies but now you also felt an overwhelming sense of love and security from him. he’s always been your rock, and now, even with the whole world watching, you knew he would forever stand by you.

an: aaa i kept seeing this prompt and i just had to try it myself! pt 2 where you get hard launched maybe??

[smoft-demons]

Hey, I've been reading your post for a while now andi absolutely love them. Before I got into OM I was already a big D&D person and love fantesty-romance novels. Although, that's besides the point. I was genuinely scared to ask this until I saw your headcanons, there so wholesome<3

But I was wondering if you could do a brothers + the others react to MC getting there period? I was planning on doing it on my own page but I'm a bit scared to publish my own stuff. Although, thank you if you do.

-H.M

Yeah, sure! As I’m sure you’ve noticed, I love writing all the comfort and fluff prompts. It’s like catnip to me lmao

This is gonna be pretty long, so I’m only gonna do the brothers.

Thanks for requesting!! I hope you like it :)

_______

MC is on their period

_______

You’ve been living in the House of Lamentation for a while now. You are, at this point, thoroughly and inextricably part of the family.

As a member of their family, your demons have no problem with helping you out. They can’t help but fawn over you a bit, as well—this wasn’t a familiar problem to them before meeting you, as none of them menstruate. Plus, any human condition of yours that highlights vulnerability and pain on your part makes them all get a tad protective.

In any case, they make sure to be helpful!

_______

Lucifer: responsibility -> rest

With your permission, Lucifer notes your cycle on the calendar he keeps on the kitchen wall. Tactfully, of course. It’s just a little red X in the corner of the box that marks the day you start until the day it ends. It ensures no one in the house forgets to be extra nice to you on those days. Plus, it serves as a way to remind you, in case it sneaks up on you.

In the week leading up to it, he checks up on your stock of human world products (and devildom ones too) for it. Painkillers, chocolate, tea, hygiene products, a heating pad, everything. If you’re running low, he will either take you to get more or take care of it himself, depending on how you’re feeling.

If you’re irregular, he takes extra care with tracking your cycle. Having records is important!

He takes you off the chore rotation while you’re bleeding. He wants you to rest. He will not make you expend your energy on chores while you’re in pain.

If you WANT to take some chores though, he understands and will let you, as long as you don’t make yourself suffer unnecessarily. He understands that some people cope worse with stress, illness, and/or pain when their routine is interrupted and they have no task to distract themself with. He would know! He’s one of them! So if you are too, he won’t force you to give up your tasks.

He does very strictly instruct you not to push yourself, however. You are to let him know immediately if you need to stop, so he or one of his brothers can help you out.

If you want somewhere quiet to hide, he’s got you. His study is a great spot for that! He won’t let anyone else in.

His room is another great spot for that, if you want a softer surface and dimmer lighting. You’re allowed to be in there without him if that ends up working out best (and he hopes you understand the level of trust in you he’s displaying by allowing that), but he has no problem with bringing his work out of the study and into his room if you want his company.

If he’s not on a time crunch, he won’t bother bringing any work with him though. Unless he has reason to expect you to feel guilty for taking up his time, in which case he will bring some and finish it in the room with you and then tell you he’s done for the day.

You end up lying on his bed with him, contorted in whatever weird position makes your cramps hurt the least. It’s the middle of the day, but for once Lucifer doesn’t seem to mind. He’s just lying next to you with his hand splayed over your uterus or lower back, applying light pressure and warmth to help the pain go away. Quietly talking to you about stuff that doesn’t matter.

There’s no concern for productivity. Nor for terrorizing his brothers into order. It seems the key for making Lucifer take a day to just relax is to request his company while you’re in pain.

See, Lucifer’s driving force is how much he loves his family. He will go to ANY lengths to keep them safe and happy. It’s his main priority. You’re part of his family now. You’re the youngest, even… and you’re in pain. So, he’s okay with pushing off the work Diavolo gives him for a day. For you, it’s worth it.

There’s no paperwork in any realm that he would prioritize over comforting you when you’re in pain. He hopes you feel all the love in that sentiment.

You know how huge a declaration that action is, because there is NO other way to get Lucifer to voluntarily lie around in the middle of the day.

_______

Mammon: devotion -> generosity

Mammon was the first one you went to for help during your very first period in the Devildom.

After a short, frantic conversation about what happened to you, why, and how you normally deal with this, he set you up in his room with some towels, a spare set of his own comfortably worn in clothes, and a movie as he rushed out to find some Devildom substitute for the hygiene products you’re used to. Just, SOMETHING to absorb the blood in the meantime before he can get you products from the human world!

He would have gone to the human world immediately, but he’s not allowed and he doesn’t have time to talk Lucifer into letting him up there yet!! You have NOTHING to work with right now, he’s gotta figure something out ASAP!

He didn’t even think about the amount of money he’s willing to spend, or how else he could be using it. He may not have been willing to tell you how much he cares for you at that point, but he has always come through for you when it matters. Even in the early days.

You find yourself contemplating Mammon’s contrasting demeanour while he’s out. This isn’t the first demonstration of his responsible mode that you’ve seen. It’s fascinating, the way he acts so careless and tsundere until someone needs him—at which point he drops that image like it’s nothing, revealing the softhearted and protective big brother he really is.

In those moments, you can see in his personality that he helped raise 5 little brothers (and one Lilith, though you don’t learn about her until later) and is actually pretty damn good at it. It’s clear that he loves you more than he’s willing to admit in those rare moments, when showing it genuinely matters.

Anyway. He came home with an assortment of items for you. No medicine yet because he doesn’t trust that Devildom painkillers won’t harm you, but he brought a BUNCH of snacks, and a collection of things that can be used to absorb the blood for now, until he can get Lucifer to let him go get the stuff you normally use from the human world. You can take your pick.

He even commissioned an enchanter to make you a custom heating pad, because he doesn’t trust the ones meant for demons to not burn your skin. He didn’t think about the price. Frankly, he doesn’t care. Maybe he’ll remember to complain about it to save face later. Maybe.

His main concern—making sure you’re okay—left no room to think of that in that moment. He waves off your concern about bloodstains on the stuff he lent you before he went out. Being reassuring in his usual irreverent way, saying something about how he’s a demon, and demons don’t tend to be squeamish about blood. Hell if he cares, he says.

While you’re in the bathroom washing up and dealing with the bleeding (with a SECOND set of Mammon’s worn-in, comfy clothes that he put in your hands before shoving you into the bathroom, not giving you a second to refuse), Mammon is texting Lucifer to find a way to get you proper period supplies from the human world.

When you come back to him, he tells you that you’ll have what you need before you go to bed, but in the meantime you should sit, because he’s putting on another movie.

He watches you shift around uncomfortably over the next few minutes. Cramps, you know. You’re not exactly comfortable sitting the way you are. Without a word, he pulls you to lie down with your head resting on his leg. He’s looking away from you, indistinctly mumbling something about “so lucky I’m lookin’ after ya” and “what would ya do without the great Mammon” and “MY human, damn it” as he carefully rubs tension out of your back.

“What was that?” You ask him.

“Shut up an’ watch the damn movie!” He splutters.

You stay like that until Lucifer shows up with your requested items. Pads, tampons, a menstrual cup, painkillers, whatever it is you asked for.

Later that night, as Mammon persists in rubbing your back as another movie plays, you find that your trust in him is stronger than it has ever been before. You understand exactly why Mammon is the best demon to be in charge of your well-being. Lucifer chose him for a reason, and it’s impossible to miss. Mammon is so damn caring under the tsundere façade.

You feel so loved. You ARE so loved. The pain fades away under the warmth of his hands. His lap makes a good pillow, and Mammon makes a great guardian.

(Every month after this, he leaves his door open for you in case you want a distraction from the pain. He’s ready with snacks and a movie. He’ll happily do this for you every time.)

_______

Levi: passion -> gentleness

Whatever it is that Levi notices first—be it the blood, the worse mood, the regular time spent with Mammon every month—he freaks out. He’s like “AAAAWTF WHY ARE YOU BLEEDING ARE YOU DYING???” Or like “oh noooo are you mad at me why are you randomly sad do you hate me now??” Or like “why can’t you reschedule with Mammon and do this time limited event with me, do you not wanna play with me anymore???”

Either way, bro is suffering.

Eventually, either you or one of his older brothers explains to him, and he feels bad. He didn’t mean to stress you out worse! Also, periods are real?? He thought it was just some creative plot point in the occasional anime! That’s crazy, why are humans built like that??

Anyway. Levi’s nothing if not passionate, and he’s gonna turn some of that passion towards finding ways to make you more comfortable.

He will find a way to order all the human world snacks you crave while you’re bleeding. He will be on the lookout for gifts, like games and merch and manga you’d want. He stockpiles them so he always has something ready to cheer you up when you need that.

He will even do his best to redirect the envy he feels towards Mammon and his established routine of movies and snacks in his room with you lying in his lap and getting free back rubs on the first day of your period each month. He wants that to be him, damn it! But he’s not gonna disrupt that for you.

He WILL claim hanging out with you on your day 2 though, AND will fill in every time if Mammon’s not available. The only thing that can beat out his shyness at the idea of having you using his lap as a pillow is the raging envy at knowing MAMMON gets to have that every month!

(Eventually, once you figure out that Levi wants to be invited so bad, you just invite him. It’s not like you don’t want him there! He’s very happy to sit next to you with your legs in his lap while he ignores Mammon’s stupid movie and plays a game on his phone. It’s nice to have two demon pillows. This one’s got built-in cooling!)

Levi understands not wanting to deal with lights and noise and craziness when you’re in pain. He will prevent any of his brothers from bringing any of that around you with all the determination and passion he brings to everything he cares about.

He is remarkably gentle, for someone who is usually so excitable. So considerate! You can see in the way he forces everyone to only argue over text, in the gentle movement of cool, nimble hands over sore calves and hips and ankles, in the presentation of snacks and gifts determinedly brought to you from the human world, how much he cares about you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

_______

Satan: research -> comfort

The first order of business for nerd boy here is, of course, research. He is gathering information from all his relevant contacts—every human sorcerer and witch he knows, every demon with a pact-bonded menstruating human they care about AND the aforementioned human, every healer, medical researcher, librarian…

Yeah, he’s gonna end up knowing more about it than you do.

He comes back home after a few days, mumbling about human endocrine systems and nutrition and medical malpractice of menstruating patients and the mechanics of blood production and every phase of a menstrual cycle and how pain works on a chemical level. He’s got notebooks and everything. He’s got the whole history of menstruation since the beginning of humanity summarized in one of those notebooks.

… Maybe it’s a bit overkill. But you know how he gets when he’s curious, especially about something that hurts you! He’s gotta know everything!

So now he’s infodumping to you about every symptom you mention. If you’re the sort of person who finds that interesting and helpful, perfect! If you’re not… well, he won’t be offended if you get mad at him for effectively mansplaining your own body to you. Demon-splaining? Whatever, either way he will take that correction with grace and only tell you information you directly ask for. He’s learned enough about menstruation to be very sympathetic and patient while you’re in the middle of it. It seems awful to him, and he’s not about to make it worse!

He’s wise enough to know that he should ask before ACTING on any of that information though. He won’t try to optimize your nutrition or your painkillers or anything unless you ask him to. He knows that would be too far. He’s not prideful enough to override you like that, he’s not Lucifer.

If you get really angry when you bleed, he’s got you! He understands, he encourages you to yell and rant in front of him all you want. Throw around some destructive spellwork or just break stuff if you need to, he’s got a room for that. It’s all good!

Satan is so good with practical comfort. He’s big on venting for your health and sanity. He knows what buttons not to push, they’re obvious to him as wrath incarnate.

Of course, he’ll also give you hugs and drive off his crazy brothers if you need peace. He’ll bring you to the cats when you get sick of people. He’ll find you any answer you need. If your cycle is irregular or in any way atypical, there’s no better demon to have searching for answers for you—and he’d NEVER let no medical malpractice happen to you. Doctors are GOING to take you seriously, damn it!

To him, there’s no such thing as too much hassle to help someone he loves so much as he loves you.

_______

Asmo: luxury -> selflessness

As the Avatar of Lust, there’s no way Asmo doesn’t know the basics of how menstrual cycles work. No way. Even if demons don’t get them, it’s relevant to his whole domain.

Asmo’s got you. He’s gonna spoil the hell out of you. Massages with fancy oils, hot baths with magic muscle relaxant products added, masks to prevent any skin issues from fluctuating hormones, everything he can think of.

If anyone even tries to make you do anything you don’t want to, he will destroy them. This is a time for rest, he insists!

He relishes any opportunity to relax with you, have a self-care day, just chill and recharge together… but he’s prioritizing you. You get to see the rare responsible Asmo during this time! If you have non-negotiable responsibilities, he’s helping you. He wants you to get done faster!

He’s actually got a pretty great strategic mind when he’s incentivized to use it! He’s so efficient! Only because he wants you to be in his room relaxing as fast as possible, but it’s totally there!

At the end of it all, it’s completely possible that he forgets about spoiling himself too, just because he got so focused on trying to take as much of your pain away as possible. It’s wild that he doesn’t think he has any capacity for selflessness. Good thing you know better.

_______

Beel: perceptiveness -> caring

Beel smells the blood. Immediately. At first he’s concerned but minds his own business, trusting that Mammon’s taking care of you. But after you’ve pacted with him? Not anymore.

Beel becomes your warning system. He will notify you as soon as the hormonal shift starts to happen. Days before you even start bleeding.

You know it’s because he cares, and that he can’t avoid noticing the change in your scent whether he wants to or not. You choose not to think it’s weird.

He gets worried once he learns about what happens to you every month. His first priority is making sure he doesn’t eat everything that’s high in iron, folic acid, vitamin C and D, and omega-3s. All very good for you when you’re on your period. He makes sure that stuff remains available to you.

He invites you to exercise with him too, because he heard that can be helpful. He won’t STOP you from lifting if that’s what you want to do, but HE is choosing to focus on stretching and moderate cardio for now (stuff that should be more helpful for you) and if you want to join him, well… that’s what he’s doing. What do you mean he changed it on purpose? He just felt like yoga and a nice jog today! Don’t think about it too hard!

Beel is actually the best one to go to for massages. Sure, Asmo knows what feels good and he’s phenomenal at that. True. But Beel is the one who understands every muscle and tendon in a body, so if you want a full, functional reset, in which all the tension and soreness in you gets methodically, optimally pressed out, you go to Beel. It might not feel quite as nice—in fact it might hurt a fair bit—but it’ll be so effective. You will have no pain at all after. Plus, he’ll teach you stretches to prevent some of that tension coming back later, too. He’s so helpful.

_______

Belphie: laziness -> service

We all know Belphie is the number one advocate for rest. He will encourage you to sleep through as much of it as possible. Why would you want to be awake to experience pain? Screw that. He will actively keep you asleep as long as possible—unless you tell him in advance that there has to be limits so you don’t bleed on everything you’re touching. Even so, he doesn’t quite see the problem. He’s a demon, he’s not squeamish about blood. What biohazard?

But no, he’ll respect that. If he’s a lil shit about it, all you have to do is pull the “remember that time you killed me” card and he’ll do whatever you want lol

In the biggest twist of irony since The Incident, Belphie actually finds himself serving as your alarm clock. It has to be him, you see, because he insists on sleeping next to you. He wants to be there to ensure you sleep through the night, and don’t ever get woken up by cramps. So it’s gotta be him to wake you up when it’s absolutely necessary. Because you see, he does not trust anyone else to understand what’s absolutely necessary. Only someone who loves sleep as much as him gets it, he insists.

Belphie is nothing if not lazy. Obviously. But… he’s actually voluntarily doing work on your behalf?? He’s concealing bloodstains on your sheets from you so you don’t feel uncomfortable, and washing them for you. He isn’t even telling you about that, so he isn’t even getting any thanks for it! How very kind and un-demonic of him!

(Of course, he’s mostly doing it because he doesn’t want you to feel embarrassed and stop sleeping next to him while you’re on your period. He’s got selfish reasons. But… really, it’s not very selfish at all when you look at how that benefits you too. How could he be so surprised to hear that you think he can be kind and sweet when he wants to be? How’s he not seeing it??)

He may deny that he’s actually a sweetie, but you know the truth. When sloth incarnate is voluntarily doing secret chores for you, you KNOW he loves you. It might as well be spilling out of his soul, it’s so undeniable.

_______

You’re bleeding. It’s miserable. No one likes their period. It’s made much more bearable for you, however, now that you have this ridiculous family falling over themselves to make your life easier. All the pain, all the hormonal fuckery, all the bullshit your body puts you through is… well, actually quite tolerable when you’re loved this much.

[wolvietxt]

💭 thinking about…

𝗅𝗈𝗀𝖺𝗇 𝗁𝗈𝗐𝗅𝖾𝗍𝗍 𝗑 𝗍𝖾𝗅𝖾𝗉𝖺𝗍𝗁𝗂𝖼!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

pairing : logan howlett x fem!reader warnings : anxiety, panic, angst, fluff, overstimulation, implied age gap, pet names, budding relationship au wc : 1.5k a/n : i’m thinking about maybe making the odd prompt list, not sure if anyone would be interested? idk i feel like i have so many ideas on what to write but not enough time to actually write them. lmk if it’s something anyone would be interested in😭

you'd always hated crowded spaces, but this - this was something else entirely.

the pounding bass from the club’s speakers seemed to vibrate through your whole body, and the flashing lights made it impossible to focus on anything for too long. it was all too loud, too chaotic. the mission had been simple: blend in, keep an eye on the target, and extract information. easy enough. except no one had accounted for the fact that a telepath like you could hardly stand in the middle of a packed nightclub without being bombarded by the overwhelming flood of thoughts and emotions from every single person around you.

the drinks, the laughter, the flirtations happening at every corner - they were suffocating. you tried to block them out, but your mental shields were already thin, your energy worn down from the mission prep. and now, with the music and flashing lights adding to the noise in your head, everything was starting to blur together. the alcohol from earlier wasn’t helping either.

you stood near the edge of the room, trying to focus on anything other than the mental cacophony around you. the team was scattered throughout the club, everyone doing their part to blend in with the crowd. but for you, it was becoming harder to concentrate on the task at hand. the target’s thoughts were buried under a thousand others, each one screaming for attention inside your mind.

you felt sick, like the world was spinning too fast. the room was closing in. your head pounded, and you could feel a sharp nausea creeping up your throat. you needed to get out of there, away from the noise, the thoughts, the people.

a warm hand suddenly brushed against your arm, pulling you out of the spiral you were falling into. you turned, blinking, and found logan standing beside you. his sharp eyes were locked on you, concern written all over his face. he’d always been able to read you better than anyone else on the team, even without telepathy.

“you alright, kid?” his voice cut through the haze, gruff but steady. it was like an anchor, something real and solid to focus on.

you nodded quickly, though it was a lie. “i’m fine,” you muttered, but the words felt weak, shaky.

logan didn’t buy it for a second. “yeah, bullshit,” he muttered, his hand still resting on your arm, grounding you. “you’re lookin’ pale as hell. c’mon, bub.”

before you could protest, logan gently but firmly led you toward the exit, weaving through the crowd with ease. you followed, grateful for his presence. the second you stepped outside, the cool night air hit you, and you felt like you could finally breathe again.

logan guided you away from the line of people waiting to get in and toward a quieter spot around the corner of the building, far from the pounding music. the noise from inside was muffled now, and without the sea of thoughts crashing into you from all sides, your head began to clear, just a little.

“better?” logan asked, his voice softer now, though still carrying that rough edge that was so inherently him.

you nodded, taking a deep breath. “yeah… yeah, much better. thanks.”

he leaned back against the brick wall, folding his arms across his chest, watching you carefully. he didn’t push, didn’t demand an explanation, but you could tell by the way his eyes narrowed slightly that he knew something was wrong.

“it’s just... the noise in there,” you said after a moment, your voice quiet, almost embarrassed. “not just the music, but the people. their thoughts. it’s... it’s a lot.”

logan’s expression softened, just a little. he might not understand telepathy the way you experienced it, but he got it in his own way. he knew what it was like to have too much going on in your head, to feel overwhelmed by things out of your control.

“should’ve said somethin’,” he muttered, though his tone wasn’t harsh. “i would’ve gotten you outta there sooner.”

you shook your head. “i didn’t want to mess up the mission.”

“the mission doesn’t matter if you’re about to pass out,” he shot back, his eyes flashing with irritation - not at you, but at the situation. “you gotta take care of yourself.”

you sighed, leaning against the wall beside him. “i know. ‘s just... hard. when you’re in a place like that, and everyone’s thinking all at once, it’s like - ” you shrugged, trying to find the right words. “it’s like being underwater. you can hear everything muffled, but it’s all too much at the same time. i couldn’t block them all out.”

logan was quiet for a moment, processing what you said. then he nodded, as if he understood. “well, you’re outta there now. you don’t need to go back in. the rest of us can handle it.”

you frowned, shaking your head. “no, i can’t leave the team like that. we’re supposed to - ”

“hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but firm. “you’ve done enough, kid. let us take it from here.” his gaze softened as he looked down at you. “besides, you ain’t leavin’ us hangin’. you’re just takin’ a breather. nothin’ wrong with that.”

you met his eyes, feeling a little less guilty under his steady gaze. he was right, of course. but it still felt wrong to step back when the rest of the team was inside, working.

“how about this,” logan added, his tone softening. “you stay out here for a bit, get your head straight, and if you’re feelin’ up to it, we’ll go back in together. but only if you’re ready.”

his words made you relax a little more. the pressure to keep pushing through was gone, and the idea of taking a break, even if just for a few minutes, didn’t feel so bad when he framed it like that.

“okay,” you agreed softly. “i think... i think i need a few minutes.”

logan nodded, satisfied with your answer. he pushed away from the wall and motioned toward a nearby bench. “sit down for a sec. no rush.”

you followed him, sinking onto the bench gratefully. the fresh air felt good, like it was clearing away the fog in your mind. logan sat beside you, silent but present, his arm resting on the back of the bench, his fingers grazing your shoulder lightly.

“how do you do it?” you asked after a few minutes, your voice barely above a whisper.

logan glanced at you, eyebrow raised. “do what?”

“stay so calm,” you murmured, staring down at your hands. “you’re always in control. even when everything’s going crazy, you just... keep it together.”

he huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “you think i’m calm?”

you looked at him, a little surprised by his response. “well, yeah. you always seem like you’ve got it under control.”

logan’s gaze softened as he met your eyes. “darlin’, i ain’t always calm. most of the time, i’m just as pissed off or frustrated as the next guy. but i learned a long time ago that lettin’ it take over don’t do any good. doesn’t mean it’s easy, but... you get used to it.”

you frowned slightly, processing what he said. “so... you’re just used to it?”

“nah,” he corrected, his voice softer now. “i’m used to dealin’ with it. there’s a difference. but i had to figure that out the hard way. you’ll get there, bub. more easily i hope.”

you nodded slowly, letting his words sink in. it wasn’t the same as what you were dealing with, but in a way, it felt like he understood more than anyone else on the team ever could. and the fact that he was here, sitting with you, offering quiet support, meant more than you could express.

“thanks,” you said after a moment, glancing up at him with a small smile. “for getting me out of there. for... everything.”

logan looked at you for a beat, his expression softening. “anytime,” he muttered, his voice gruff but genuine.

for a while, the two of you just sat there in the quiet, the night air cool against your skin. the noise and chaos of the club were distant now, and with logan beside you, the overwhelming thoughts and emotions that had threatened to drown you finally felt manageable.

“you ready to head back in?” logan asked after a few minutes, though his tone wasn’t pushy.

you hesitated for a second, then shook your head. “not yet.”

he smirked slightly, nodding. “good. let’s stay out here a bit longer.”

you smiled, leaning into his shoulder, and he didn’t pull away. instead, his arm settled around you, holding you close as the night stretched on, the two of you finding a moment of peace amidst the chaos.

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[pressureplus]

Could I ask for the prompt of you being a former friend/lover of Sebastian's from the surface when he was still human, becoming an EXR-P and meeting him again for the first time? I think it could be either super wholesome or super angsty lmao,,

-⭕️

Oh, you know I just love angst, thank you for the prompt! May have run a bit wild with it, apologies for that!

Hiraeth

Pairing: Sebastian Solace x GN!Reader

Au: Classic

Warnings: Angst, Romance

◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟ ◞꒷◟ ͜ ͜ ◞ྀི◟୨୧◞ྀི◟ ͜ ͜ ◞꒷◟

How many times had you run through these halls, desperately searching for a safe place to rest? The echo of water droplets hitting the ground from your soaked suit. You'd heard whispers, muffled between EXR-P’s like yourself. A few little tales of a shopkeeper all the way down here. A man by the name of Sebastian, some kind of experiment gone feral. A part of you was admittedly a little frightened by the idea of him, but from the moment you heard his voice over the intercom, you knew you had to find him. You knew only one man with a voice like that, that little chuckle that you'd heard a thousand times over. It played in your head on repeat and it hasn't stopped in years. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but you could dream, couldn't you?

The man you’d been in love with had been sentenced to death so many years ago now, the case details are blurry. You'd tried to be in court that day and you had. You vouched for his innocence, for his protection. He’d been with you that night. Honestly? It didn't seem to matter. They didn't care what you had to say under oath or not. Who cared if the love of your life was sentenced to death? Surely not the lawyers, the judges, the jury, or the onlookers... All of them would be able to carry on with their lives as though nothing had happened, but you? You wouldn't. You couldn't. You’d screamed that day when they took him in cuffs, when your pleas for his safety had been ignored. He didn't seem to resist, nor did he fight back. He’d only smiled at you. A little one that was a bit more solemn than the others you'd received. Much duller than the one you'd fallen in love with. Who were they to dull his light? Who were they to take him from you?

When he was killed, put down like some kind of animal, it was like the sun had fallen from the sky. For a while you'd wandered aimlessly, grieving the loss of your love, and no one had seemed to care. Those that reached out did so half-heartedly. The amount of reprimanding you got for grieving a man they claimed to be a murderer broke you down. It changed you. Something about watching the world around you turn their backs to your grief, rejecting the idea of his innocence even in death. It drove you nearly crazy. Now, after all this time, you're here. Here, in the Hadal Blacksight under Urbanshades care, you had a chance of seeing him. Maybe it wasn't a particularly good chance, but a chance nonetheless.

As you finally looked around the inside of his shop, out of breath from having crawled through an already open vent, you were greeted with items. A document on the counter, batteries, a radio and keycard. All sorts of spare items on shelves and an empty black doorway. There was no shopkeeper here, and it only left you confused. That was until you heard shifting in the backroom. Was he storing things? Replenishing his supply? Did it matter? Now was the time and god the way your heart raced in your chest left you almost shaking. Was it going to be him? You shouldn't get your hopes up, right? After a few more moments of silence, you gathered your courage to speak, stepping a little closer to the dark doorway.

“Hello?” You attempted to call out for him, or more so anyone in that back room. You were greeted with a softer, smoother voice.

“What are you doing here?” You freeze immediately, little tears in your eyes. The voice you were so attached to for so long, the one you'd missed, the one you'd fallen in love with. Of course his voice was a bit deeper than you'd last heard it, but oh so familiar.

“Sebastian? Is that really you? You're alive- tell me you're alive and that I've not finally lost my mind.”

“I'm alive. Barely.”

“Sebastian, I've missed you so much. I thought I'd lost you forever- I am so, so sorry that I couldn't do more. I-” You attempt to step closer towards the door, only to be met with aggression. A loud almost barking noise as his voice picks up in volume.

“Don't- Don't come any closer.”

“Its been nearly a decade since I've last seen you, come on-”

“You don't want to see me.”

“What? Sebastian, of course I want to see you.”

“No, no you don't. You don't want to see me now, its better if you think of me as dead. I'm warning you.”

“It can't be that bad-”

“Back up.” He huffs as you take another step forward, almost at the doorframe now.

“No, no I'm not backing up. I have waited to see you for years and no amount of being nervous is going to stop me.”

“Back. Up.” His voice drops even lower, more like a hiss than words as you finally get to the doorway.

“Sebastian, I'm not backing up. I-”

“I said BACK UP!” The voice you're greeted with hold power unlike anything you've heard from a human before. A snarl and a growl, echoing oddly in his throat as his face comes out of the darkness. A monster and not a man. Something entirely unrecognizable as your lover apart from his voice, something that looks closer to the anglers here than anything else. His glistening teeth bared as though he was going to snap and rip into you at any moment. His eyes filled with anger unrivaled.

“Wh…What are you?” Those words seemed to sink in deep, hitting him in all his most sensitive places. An attack directly on his heart. You watch the rage turn into hurt, melting into regret before he dipped back inside the dark room. A bit of shuffling heard.

“Are you happy now? You've seen enough. I didn't want it to come to this, okay? Please just…go away. I can't bear to look at you like this. Your expression is too much for me.”

“Wait- wait I'm sorry I just- you shocked me is all. Sebastian please-” You try to soften your approach as the shock and fear fade away.

“Don't say my name so sweetly, like you didn't just get scared of my face. And what about the rest of me? What will you think of what they made me? If my face scares you that much you won't want to see the rest.”

“Sebastian, please. I have loved you for years, since way before all of this. Even after you died I never stopped loving you. I was a little scared, yes, but its you, isn't it? It's still my Sebastian in that body. No matter what you look like now.” He hesitated for a moment. A long beat of silence, heartbeat rapid in your panic to not let him leave you again. All at once a massive clawed hand juts out of the darkness and pulls you in. You're tugged up into a set of arms, a third coming up under your thighs to function like a chain. The glow of his eyes on the darkness is unsettling for only a moment as he dips down to muzzle into your neck.

“Don't…Don't say things like that unless you mean them.”

“Sebastian.” You say it softly, arms wrapped around his neck.

“I still love you…its okay. All of you, even if its new and different. Its just gonna take a little getting used to. You can be patient for me, can't you?” He nods against your neck, holding you desperately. Enough for those claws to sink into your skin and draw blood, but neither of you seem to care. Here, even if its only for a moment, Sebastian has a piece of home again.

[carlsangel]

IM SO FRUSTRATED

carl grimes x fem!reader

(carl had a hard day.)

tags: smut, p in v sex, sub!carl, use of the word mama (don’t shoot me)

masterlist here!

Carl was always super tough on the outside. When he’s out with other people he takes on a leadership role, he does his best to take the lead and make plans, also to protect people. But, his favorite thing in the world is to be taken care of. There’s nothing more that he loves than being taken care of by you. In many ways as well.

For example he loves when you take care of him by showering with him or cooking with him or sort of just doing anything with him. Most importantly, he loves when you take care of him while you’re intimate. He adores how gentle you are. He loves to be shy and soft to get his pleasure. He’s also incredibly in love and obsessed with you.

You also loved to take care of him, he made it so easy. He makes the cutest noises and gets so cuddly you can’t help but want to keep being sweet to him because it’s so adorable. He’s everything you’ve ever wanted. You always found it funny how he was so tough with others but so sweet with you. You loved it; being able to see the side of him that no one else did.

There was one day in particular that he especially needed your attention. He had a rough day out on a run and you were making dinner when he walked through the door. You greeted each other with small hi’s and you knew something was up when he walked over to hug you from behind, shoving his face into the crook of your neck with a small whine. “Everything okay?” You ask, focused on stirring the pot of soup in front of you. “I guess.” He responds against the skin of your neck.

He explains to you why today was so rough, he’d dropped a bag of supplies in a store they were at because a couple of walkers were tackling Glenn and he needed to help. Inside the bag was a ton of batteries and food. But he saved Glenn. He just felt like he’d let Alexandria down.

Dinner was quiet but he made sure to reach over and hold your hand while you both ate. Also he seemed very impatient, he’d look up at you between every spoonful he ate and would adjust in his chair every so often. “You okay?” You sort of giggle at his awkward demeanor. He nods silently and takes another spoonful in his mouth. It wouldn’t be until you got to the bedroom he explained what was wrong. You should’ve known anyway.

After closing the door to your bedroom, he turns and immediately pulls you into a hug except he bends over to shove his face into your chest rather than hugging over your shoulders. He holds his face there for a moment before moving his face up to your collarbone where he places gentle kisses. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You question again, but he’s too focused on how perfect you smell and how good you taste. It turns him on like crazy. “Please make me feel good…it’s just- I’m so frustrated I…I need it. Please.” He pleads, his voice a lot softer than it usually is. He shoves his face into your neck and grabs at your sides, practically whining.

“Okay, okay.” You move him over and sit him down on the bed which prompts him to almost immediately start to unbuckle his belt. “Hold on, lemme do this right it’ll feel better un-rushed.” You brush his hair out of his face and he watches every move you make in hopes that it’d lead to you making him feel good. Which it did, you propped up pillows for him to sit against at the head of the bed and had him scoot over. From there you’d actually start to take off his jeans. “I’ve been waiting all day for this.” He smiles a little bit and lifts his hips up for you to tug off his jeans.

You pull his boxers down with it, revealing how bad he needs you which…was a lot. He is very hard, it’s quite evident all the damn blood in his body rushed to his dick. “Want it all off?” You offer, he nods silently so you pull his shirt off and he settles back into the pillows with a groan, as he is extremely tired. You aren’t sure exactly what he wants so you start on his neck, pressing soft kisses. He felt so relieved and he hadn’t even had an orgasm. Just feeling your love was refreshing.

He moans quietly as you kiss around his throat, meanwhile his hands are on your hips, his fingers hooking into the pajama shorts you’re wearing. He tugs at them gently, prompting you to pull away and look at him. He looks at you with tired yet pleading eyes. “Please mama I wanna feel you. Not your hand.” He speaks quietly but you know he’s being dead serious. Mama is a name he calls you just when he’s feeling needy or if you guys are being intimate in general. Just based off that you can tell how much he needs this, so you nod. “Yeah, okay.” You start to take your shorts off, along with your underwear and you straddle his lap.

You look down at him since you’re fairly raised up and all he’s doing is looking at your body. That and touching you all over the place. His first instinct is to slide his hands up your shirt, along your sides and over your back before cupping your breasts, drawing moans from the both of you. He loved the feeling of your nipple against his palm, it was almost like it healed him. “Having a good time sweet boy?” You sort of smile at how entranced he is.

“That’s an understatement.” He smiles up at you before choosing to pull your shirt off. In normal instances you’d tease him for being impatient but right now, you can’t help but want to nurture him. He sighs in relief once he sees your chest, it’s everything he’d been looking forward to the entire day except he wanted to enjoy them correctly. In order to do that, he needed to be inside of you. He reaches down to take himself in his hand and he swipes it against your folds, causing you to jolt up a little. “Sorry-”

You laugh. “No it’s fine. Go ahead baby.” You take your weight off him and sit on your knees. still straddling him. But he aligns himself with you and slowly pushes his hips up while you simultaneously sink down on him. The noise that came out of his mouth was just beautiful. His eyes are shut as he whimpers in reaction to feeling your warm heat surround him, the feeling he’d been yearning to feel for hours. His breathing immediately begins to falter and he leans his head onto your bare chest as you start to slowly start to grind your hips.

“Oh mama that’s good.” He whines against your skin, although you can barely hear since his face is shoved between your tits. “Yeah? You like that?” You reply gently, putting on a lighter tone he absolutely fucking adores. He looks up at you needfully and nods before latching his mouth onto your tit. Your mouth drops slightly at the feeling and he moans against your breast before reaching up to hold the other one. You continue to rock your hips slowly so he can suck at you steadily. Small whimper like noises came from his mouth and you couldn’t help but smile.

At some point his eyebrows furrow and his hips jerk up, he lets go of your breast from his mouth and he looks up at you. “I need to go faster.” He tells you, you steady yourself to start to do so but he stops you. “Can I do it mama? I’ll be good…just lemme do it.” His voice is breathy and yet determined. So you agree and get off his lap and he sort of winces at the cold air against his soaked skin. You lay back against the pillows and he props himself between your knees.

He lets out a small whimper as he feels his tip nudge at your folds but you gently guide him inside and his eyes flutter closed. He pushes all the way in until he bottoms out, causing both of you to whimper and he does his best to not make another noise but you’ll never let that happen. “Cmon baby I wanna hear you.” You smile and reach up to caress the side of his face and he opens his eyes to look down at you. He’s trying so hard not to cum already and you’re not helping his case. “Please…” He begs.

“Please what?” You croak out, still a bit overwhelmed with the new position, feeling how deep he was buried into you. He stays silent and leans his head onto your shoulder, breathing heavily into your ear while he gives everything in him to not finish. He wants to, it’s actually all he wants, except he wanted to do it right. So once he collected himself he was determined. Determined to make you feel good but also to get his pent up energy out.

He gently starts to move his hips again, pushing himself to sit back up between your legs. He adjusts your legs so that they’re lifted a little, allowing him to go deeper and to move how fast he wanted to. Which, by the way, his pace turned fast relatively quick. He started to pound into you, his eyes shut and his mouth slightly opened as he focused on the feeling of how tight you were. Not to mention the sounds coming out of your mouth and the way you were clutching the sheets under you. “Feels so good…you feel so good.” You smile at his words.

“You’re doing so good. Do you feel good sweet boy?” You reach up to place your hand anywhere you can. It’s also quite hard to focus when he’s literally fucking you into the bed out of pure neediness. He slightly nods, his eyes still shut. “Mhm. God, it amazing- just what i needed.” He smiles and almost laughs, his expression immediately changing. It really didn’t take him long to get close.

“Please mama I-I worked so hard today..” He says, still thrusting himself into your cunt harshly. “Please lemme cum.” His voice is breathless. You continue to moan, quite loudly not to mention but between your cries of pleasure you give him a signal that tells him he can finish.

He cums hard, the warm liquid that fills you up pushes you just the inch you needed to cum with him. He almost collapses onto you, still pushing his cum further into you while he breathes against the skin of your neck.

After a moment of catching your breath, he stops his hips completely and snuggles into your warmth, his body suddenly cold due the lack of movement. “Thank you.” He whispers, smiling to himself all giddy at the fact that you rewarded him so greatly.

“Of course.”

a/n: hey guyssss sorry for taking forever to post school has been kicking my ass bc it’s been making me SO ANXIOUS! but anyway i’ll try and finish up ghost in the woods soon, but bc i haven’t posted in a lil here’s a treat

tag list: @zomb-1-egutzz @lunarnightt @ilikestrawberriesandwomen @hiro--aoki @h00d-tr4sh @callsignwidow @sstar-ggirl

[gyokujyn]

CATWS 10th Anniversary | March 27th » Prompts: Camp Lehigh for @catws-anniversary

a loving homage to A Softer World and @asofteravenger

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Can I request for your Halloween celebration dracula x fem reader with the prompt you are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, with loads of fluff and maybe some smut please

.⋆｡A Chance｡⋆.

Count Vlad Dracula x plus size reader

When you are sentenced to death by your village, the monster in the woods gives you a chance at a better life- by his side

Warnings: minor angst (reader is sacrificed by her village), fluff, i kind of followed the Dracula Untold backstory because he is so stupidly hot and I love the angst, love confessions, mentions of blood, Vlad is slightly toxic but what do you expect, biting, sort of implied death? reader is turned

WC: 2.9k

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

Halloween Celebration

Every town had their own ghost stories, legends that grew from whispers in the night. But the monster that stalked your home was very real and very dangerous. It stalked the shadows between the small homes, picking off the weakest of the population in the dead of night.

Fear was woven into your very existence, taught to you since the moment you could comprehend your parent’s words. Your senses were constantly tuned to the world around you, listening for any extra footsteps, eyes locked on the castle that loomed over your home but it wasn’t enough, not when the elders of the village determined that in order to protect everyone, only one must be sacrificed.

You were the easy choice- young enough to be a valuable meal but not a child anymore, you were pure and soft, unable to protect yourself in the vast wilderness that surrounded you. You screamed and cried and fought them as hard as you could but it did you no good, you still ended up at the steps of the steps of the castle, barefoot and terrified.

Frozen in fear, you trembled as the huge ornate doors opened before you. Candlelight spilled into the night air illuminating your way, but you refused to move. Some baser instinct in your brain told you that if you remained totally still, the monster would leave you alone and once dawn finally broke, you could run to another town.

Alas, it knew you were there. “Come inside before you catch your death of cold.” A voice called to you, urging you into its den. Acting of their own accord, your legs pushed your forwards and into the warmth of the grand hall, even as your mind screamed at you to turn and run. 

As soon as you were inside, the doors slammed shut behind you, sealing you into the place that would become your tomb. “Such a skittish little thing aren’t you.” The voice bounced off the towering walls and you whipped your head around, attempting to pinpoint where it came from.

Your heart pounded in your ears as your stomach twisted in fear. A sigh echoed around you. “You needn’t be frightened little one, I will not hurt you.” The voice was far softer now, the tone more of a man comforting a scared animal rather than a deadly creature taunting its prey.

“Please don’t kill me.” You whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut as tightly as you could. The smell of copper and ancient books overwhelmed your senses as someone stood before you. 

A soft touch against your full cheek made you flinch but the hand did not move away, in fact the tips of his fingers brushed your skin, travelling slowly downwards until they touched your lips. “How could I destroy something so pure?” He whispered.

Tentatively, you cracked open one eye and your breath caught.

Before you stood the most handsome man you could imagine. Black curls framed a square jaw, dotted with dark stubble. His eyes seemed brown at first but the longer you looked, the more you realised that they were an incredibly deep red. Shallow wrinkles decorated the outside of his eyes and his mouth, making him appear incredibly human. A smile pulled at his thin lips, exposing a pair of deadly fangs. He wore an outfit of delicately embroidered silk, making him appear as a lord or a king.

Your body relaxed, allowing him to cup your jaw with a fondness you couldn’t quite understand. “There you go. See, nothing to be afraid of.” His accent was thick, very much like the way your grandfather used to speak when you were little. “Now, why don’t you tell me why you were outside my home in the dead of night wearing so little?”

It was only then that you looked down at the thin white slip you had been wearing when the men broke into your home and pulled you from your bed. “They brought me here.” You managed to say, your voice thick with tears.

The man’s dark brows lifted, prompting you to continue. You doubted you couldn’t disobey if you tried. “They said it was to stop more deaths.”

His slightly crooked nose twitched as his eyes flashed with anger. “Foolish.” He snarled under his breath, and you gasped as he squeezed your wide hip tightly, you hadn’t even realised that his hand had moved. That seemed to break him from his trance.

“Ah I apologise. To touch a lady like yourself in that way is most inappropriate. Here, let us get you warm and fed.”

Sunset licked at the horizon, painting the sky with streaks of purple and pinks until they bled into the back of night, giving way to the silver of stars. You had slept through the day, too exhausted from the night’s events to even eat once you had bathed. 

Your benefactor had provided you with a truly lavish room and clothes that were slightly outdated but made of incredibly expensive materials. He told you to rest and that he would rejoin you the next night since he had some business to take care of during the day. You were so tired, you didn’t question him but now, you wondered what possible business he could be attending to.

Too frightened to leave your room, you settled on looking through the small collection of books on the shelf next to the bed. Many of the titles were in languages you could not understand but there were a few that you recognised. Love stories and tales of valour, stories you were told when you were young before your parents had died.

Absent-mindedly, you plucked one out and turned to the first page. The words were so achingly familiar- a girl is forced into the servitude of a monster by her family. He is wary of her at first but slowly, they begin to fall for one another until she kisses him after they are attacked by the villagers and he nearly perishes. The beast turns back into a man and they spend the rest of their lives in bliss. 

“I see you are quite fond of that story as well, it has always been a favourite of mine.” His voice startled you but terror did not accompany it. You looked up from the book to see the man, who had not yet told you his name, leaning against the doorway. Unlike the night before, he wore a simple white tunic and dark trousers. 

Heat bloomed across your cheeks as you spotted the way the dark curls on his chest were exposed by the loosely tied shirt. “My mother used to read it to me.” You stammered out, causing his smile to become even softer. 

“She must have been a woman with taste.” You nodded absentmindedly, tracing the spine of the book with your fingertips. Silence settled between you and after a moment, he spoke again.

“You may ask questions, I will not punish you for being curious.” He gently took the book from you, placing it back onto the shelf before he took your hands into his own. His skin was cold, unnaturally so, and it sent a chill down your spine.

“What- who are you?” The words flew from your lips. You expected him to show some offence to your question but he just chuckled and brought your hands to his mouth. He placed a kiss on your knuckles.

“I am Count Vlad Dracula and this is my home, as it has been for centuries.” Your breath hitched, he continued. “As for your other question, I am an ancient creature who must consume blood to live. There are many names for my kind but I prefer the term vampire.” 

“Are you going to feed from me?” Your voice was barely a whisper, merely a soft exhale forced from your lungs.

“No, I would never wish to mar your perfect skin with something so sinful, not unless you beg.” Your heart jumped.

“Why would I beg for that?” But he just shook his head with a cocky smirk, refusing to answer. “Why didn’t you kill me like the others?”

Dracula sighed heavily and released your hands. “There are many monsters in this world and some are not trapped by the night. Killers and rapists, evil men who lie and manipulate for personal gain. Those are who sustain me. Their blood is sour, tainted, but I refuse to kill those who have done nothing to deserve such a death though their blood is undeniably sweeter.”

His face twisted with shame and despair, the face of a man condemned for his sins no matter how much he repented. You tentatively stepped closer to him. “You’re an avenging angel, a noble monster.”

He scoffed but it was not spiteful, in fact, it almost seemed fond. “I am no angel, I am only fulfilling a duty I was bestowed long ago.”

“You saved me, that seems quite the noble deed.” Something in your chest tugged you to him, compelling you to wrap him in your arms and hide away forever. Instead your fingers curled into the soft sieve of his shirt, anchoring you to him once more.

“Not as noble as one might think. But let us not dwell on that, you must be famished. I think a hot meal will do you some good and then maybe you can read to me by the fire.” He picked up the book once more as he gestured for you to wrap your arm through his own. You dutifully obeyed, ignoring the feeling of his muscular bicep in your hands as he led you away.

“Has this always been your home?” You asked, desperate for an interruption to the silence between you. Dracula’s eyes flicked to you briefly, the red of his irises flickering in the candlelight of the hall.

“No, for much of my human life, I lived in a village not too dissimilar to your own. But that was a very long time ago and I prefer not to think on the past.” Your mouth snapped shut and you nodded in feigned understanding. 

Your combined footsteps echoed behind you, leaving ghosts of yourselves to follow as you journeyed into the heart of the palace you had feared for so long. 

——————

Most days followed this pattern, you would sleep until early evening when Dracula would rouse you with a gentle knock at the door. He would escort you to the dining room, you would eat while he sipped at a goblet of what looked to be wine and then you both would settle in one of his many sitting rooms with a book, a new one each time. Sometimes he would tell you stories of his undead life, painting vivid pictures of far away lands and unique people. On occasion, he would detail his affliction, giving you glimpses of how this all came to be.

Then, as midnight struck, he would leave you then with a gentle kiss to your knuckles. He would return hours later, smelling of the earth and blood. 

In those moments, his eyes were always wild. In those moments, his chest puffed with air though he did not need to breathe. It did something inexplicable to you, a fire would flicker to life in your belly as wetness pooled at the apex of your thighs. He would look at you as his nostrils flared, undoubtedly inhaling your scent. He would tear himself from your presence and retreat to his chambers in the back of the palace where you were forbidden to go.

By the next evening, he would be himself once more.

“Vlad?” The vampire opened a single eye in acknowledgement from where his head lay in your lap. One of your hands was buried in his black curls, while the other held up a book which you quickly discarded to the side so you could rest your palm against his sternum. When you first touched his chest like that, the lack of a heartbeat greatly disturbed you but now, it was strangely comforting. 

“What is it my sunlight?” You tried to smile at him but you knew he could see right through you.

“Do you promise not to get mad at me?” He chuckled, his broad chest shaking beneath your hand.

“I will never get mad at you.” You breathed out a heavy sigh of relief before speaking again.

“Why have you kept me here so long? I would think that you do not need a human around that you will not feed off of. I can’t see myself providing you any real use.” His other eye snapped open and part of you screamed to stop talking, to take it back under the guise of you being too hot but another part was curious about his answer. “I suppose a woman has other uses but you have not touched me outside of moments like this so-“

Faster than you could comprehend, Vlad sat up straight, his face mere inches from yours. “Where did you come up with these ideas?”

“I-“

“If you wanted to leave, you could just leave but I guarantee the village won’t take you back.” He snarled spitefully. He scoffed and stood from the sofa but you quickly followed. Before you could think, you grabbed his hand.

The growl that escaped his lips was that of a vicious beast as he bared his deadly fangs at you, his eyes flashing bright red. A brief spike of fear raced through you and you gasped. Suddenly, he was back to himself. “I frighten you, that’s why you want to leave.”

You quickly shook your head, your grip upon his wrist tightening though you would be no match against his strength. “I am more frightened of the spiders in my room than I am of you. You tell me you are a monster yet you have never hurt me, you have been kinder to me than most humans I have met. I wonder about those things because I feel useless to you. You ask nothing of me in exchange for your home, your protection, your food. And I fear that one day you will desire something of me that I cannot give and I will have to leave you.” 

His broad shoulders sagged as he faced you once more. “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” He murmured in reverence. “And I am a selfish, selfish man.”

“To keep you here, in my home, to dress you in clothes of my choosing, to have you read my books- it is selfish, entirely so but I find that I am unable to part from you. Your very existence calls to me, urges me to do terrible things just to keep myself from drinking you down. You have enchanted me, hypnotised me from the moment you stepped foot in my home and I cannot explain it. It feels as if my heart has known you for years.” Every word he spoke resonated through your chest, articulating the feelings that swirled around your mind aimlessly. You stepped closer to him and his arms wrapped around your thick waist.

“You make me feel human again.” He pulled you closer, your breasts brushed against his strong chest. “You remind me what it is to love and to be loved. You have given me a chance to live anew and I wish to give you the same chance, no matter how selfish it may be.” His right hand trailed up your arm, coming to rest at the base of your throat, his thumb pressed against the frantic beating of your pulse.

“I want to taint you, to condemn your soul to hell as long as it means that you can be by my side until eternity. I keep you here because I need you, because I crave you like the tide craves the moon, like flowers crave the sun. You are the purpose of my undead existence, I have lost too much already and I will not lose you too.”

Your eyelashes fluttered against the steel of your cheek as the tip of his nose brushed against your own. “You will never lose me, I am entirely, wholly yours.” His groan echoed through your chest, it made your skin explode in goosebumps.

“Don’t say that my sunshine.”

“Why not?” Your gaze was fixated upon his lips, eager to finally feel them upon your own.

“Because I really will make you mine. I will turn you, make you into a monster like me.” But his tone was eager, filled with desire and longing for just that.

“Then give me a chance for an everlasting life- with you.” There was a moment’s pause and then he ducked his head, his lips barely brushing against yours as they travelled down your jaw and moved along your throat, coming to rest where his thumb had been but he did not bite.

“Please Vlad.” You begged, burying your hands in his hair once more.

“I told you that you would beg for this.” He teased before his jaw hinged open and he sunk his fangs into your warm skin, quickly draining away your mortal life. You clung to the monster who was destined to kill you and all you could think was that maybe the fear you felt for so long was only a restlessness for a new beginning.

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[caws5749]

Late Night Meets

A/N: the beginning two sentences were in my drafts from the first month I started this blog. that is insanity to me. 

The tea kettle was on the stove. You were staring at it, still half asleep. You hadn’t even managed to turn on a single kitchen light, preferring instead to bump around in the dark. As you started to hear the bubbling of the heating water, your eyes drooped shut, your hand just barely holding up your head as you leaned over the counter.

“That is a terrible position to fall asleep in.”

You jolted up, sheer panic tearing through you at the newcomer behind you.

“Natasha,” you sighed happily, clutching at your chest, before realizing your robe had loosened a bit, showing more of your silk camisole and shorts. You pulled it tighter, not noticing the way her eyes dropped to watch. 

“Couldn’t sleep?” she questioned, not bothering to flick on the light as she made her way forwards toward the fridge. You shook your head. 

“No. You?”

She gave a wry smile as the glow from the fridge just barely illuminated her face.  “Something like that.” 

She moved over to the island counter, perching on one of the barstools. “How is it that you couldn’t fall asleep, but I found you nodding off over the stove?”

Shoot. She had you there. Maybe you shouldn’t have attempted to lie to the world’s most famous assassin. You were just so tired and it clouded your judgement. 

Truth be told, you hadn’t really been able to sleep at all. Nightmares plagued your mind the entire night and you still couldn’t figure out why. It was always the same- something involving something ominous coming. It felt like a warning, it felt like-

“Y/N?” Natasha’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. Her tone was much softer, gentler than her usual. You stared at her, lips parted slightly in confusion, slight shock, emotion, exhaustion- your eyes welled with tears. 

“What’s wrong?” she probed. 

“I just can’t shake this feeling,” you whispered, shaking slightly from the effort of holding in tears. Her head tilted, waiting for you to continue. “I keep having these nightmares, and I can’t even really remember them but I just have this- this feeling that something bad is going to happen. It’s all I feel.”

Nat’s brow furrowed. She hated seeing you like this, fear all-consuming, eyes darting around as if something was going to pop out from thin air. All she wanted to do was, truth be told, hold you until you no longer feared anything at all. 

But the relatively new Avenger standing across from her in silky pajamas, hair slightly undone in the cutest way possible didn’t know that Natasha Romanoff had fallen for her. 

She must have had some sort of odd expression on her face, for you quickly shook your head, quickly brushing a tear away. “Forget it, it’s stupid.” You moved back toward the kettle, turning away from her.

“No, it’s not,” Natasha said, standing and coming to rest against the counter next to you. “I’m sorry, I just-” I don’t want to see you like this, it breaks my heart. “You aren’t usually so- you’re normally so easygoing and happy and I guess I don’t quite know what to say.” The widow inwardly cursed. She definitely was making a fool of herself.

 You hummed, nodding. 

“When did it start?” she asked. 

“About a week ago,” you answered, pouring the hot water into your mug. 

“After your last mission?”

Your eyes widened. How could you not have put two and two together? 

“God, I’m so stupid, how could I not realize-”

“You’re not stupid,” Natasha chided gently, her hand coming to rest on your forearm. Your eyes flickered downwards at the touch, prompting a blush from the red-head. 

“Sorry,” she muttered, removing her hand quickly. 

You sent her a timid smile. “You don’t have to be sorry for something like that, Nat.”

“How can we make your nightmares go away?”

She said ‘we’, didn’t she? Your heart fluttered. “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, gloom settling back in. 

She frowned at your expression, desperate to do anything to make you feel better, to even smile or laugh, just once. 

“What about a show or something while you finish your tea? I’ll sit with you, maybe that will help you feel safer.. I mean, just having someone there.” Her cheeks reddened even further. 

“That sounds great, Natasha. Thank you. You don’t have to do that, though. It’s late and I’m sure you’re tired and-”

“I’m not,” she interrupted quietly. Well,  she was but that didn’t matter. “I just want to help.”

It was your turn to blush. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. 

“Great. Now let’s go before one of the boys wake up and claim the TV.” 

[diamonddaze01]

tarararara my love! for your drabble game i wanna do prompt no. 6 but with a twist-

Do you like me? Check yes or yes

the ball is in your court now bub!

do you like me?

pairing: wonwoo x reader, law school au | wc: 944 prompt: "Do you like me? check yes or yes" | warnings: none a/n: dedicated to both @svtiddiess and @tusswrites bc the greatest minds think alike

The library was quieter than usual, the usual hum of stressed-out law students replaced by the rhythmic scratching of pens and flipping of pages. You and Jeon Wonwoo had somehow claimed a table near the window—a rare truce in the ongoing cold war of your academic rivalry.

You weren’t entirely sure how it started. Maybe it was the time he answered a question in Contracts class before you could, perfectly articulating the rule of consideration in a way that had the professor beaming. Or maybe it was the time you aced your Civil Procedure exam, and he shot you that unreadable glance as he exited the lecture hall, his graded paper tucked discreetly under his arm. Somewhere along the line, though, it became a thing: Jeon Wonwoo vs. You.

You were loud, unabashed, and utterly relentless in debates. Wonwoo? Quiet, methodical, and terrifyingly sharp. It was as though the universe had handpicked you to be polar opposites, with one mutual goal: finishing top of the class.

It wasn’t just about ego—though you’d never admit how much satisfaction you felt when you won. For you, being at the top meant proving that your voice mattered, that you could command a room even in the cutthroat world of law. For him, you suspected it was different. Wonwoo worked with a quiet precision that seemed to come from something deeper, something you couldn’t quite place. He was impossible to read, and maybe that’s what frustrated you the most.

The rivalry only grew fiercer with time: whispered debates in the hallway after class, stolen glances at each other’s grades, the occasional sarcastic jab when you passed in the library. It had become a fixture of your law school experience.

So why were you here, sitting across from him in the library? That was another story.

It started two weeks ago, when the Professor of Legal Ethics—who clearly took pleasure in student suffering—had paired you two for a moot court assignment. The project was simple: argue a mock case against each other, with grades determined by individual performance.

You’d scoffed at the announcement. “Of course,” you muttered under your breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

He’d glanced at you, an amused glint in his eyes. “Don’t sound too excited.”

The idea of working with him—of watching him meticulously dismantle your arguments before you even had a chance to deliver them—should have been unbearable. But instead, you’d found yourself suggesting, “We should prep together. You know, scope out the competition.”

Wonwoo had hesitated, his lips twitching in what might have been amusement. “You’re offering to help me beat you?”

“Who said I’m helping you?” you’d shot back, grinning. “I just want to see if you’re as good as everyone says.”

Now here you were, begrudging study partners, buried under stacks of legal texts and sharing a tense but surprisingly comfortable silence. Except you couldn’t focus. Not because of the assignment—your case brief was flawless—but because of him.

Wonwoo, with his quiet determination, his maddening focus, and his infuriating ability to make your heart race with just a glance. You didn’t know when it started—when the rivalry began to feel less like competition and more like curiosity. When his sharp intelligence stopped annoying you and started fascinating you instead.

Maybe it was last week, when he had stayed late after your prep session, walking with you to the parking lot under the glow of the streetlights. The conversation had been light, easy—unexpectedly so. You’d caught him smiling, not his usual smirk but something softer, almost shy. It had lingered with you far longer than it should have.

Or maybe it was the other day, when you’d caught him lost in thought, glasses slipping down his nose as he scribbled something in the margins of his notebook. He had looked up at you then, catching you staring, and raised an eyebrow in question. You had blurted something incoherent about “legal precedents” before burying your face in your notes, your cheeks burning.

You were doomed.

Tonight wasn’t any better. He was scribbling furiously in his textbook, his pen tapping softly against the edge of the page. You should have been working on your counterarguments, but instead, you were folding a piece of notebook paper into an origami crane.

After a few moments, you slid the crane across the table to him. Wonwoo didn’t look up at first, too engrossed in his notes, but when the crane nudged his hand, he paused. His sharp eyes flicked to yours, and you gave him your best innocent smile.

He carefully unfolded the crane. Inside, in your bold handwriting, were the words: “Do you like me? Check yes or yes.” Below, you’d drawn two boxes, both labeled “yes,” along with a winking face for good measure.

Wonwoo blinked at the note, his expression unreadable. But then, his ears turned a shade of red so deep you could practically hear your heart screaming.

You stared, waiting, your pulse thundering in your ears. And then, to your surprise, he smirked.

Pulling out his pen, he checked one of the boxes. Then, with deliberate care, he tore off the bottom half of the paper, scribbled something, and slid it back to you.

You unfolded it, your chest tight with anticipation. Written in his small, neat handwriting was: “Can you quiet down now? I’m trying to focus.” Below it, he’d drawn a tiny, lopsided heart.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you murmured.

Wonwoo didn’t respond, but the pink flush creeping up his neck and the faint twitch of his lips told you everything you needed to know.

Somehow, the rivalry didn’t feel like a competition anymore.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[luveline]

𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨'𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

you have to find new ways to communicate when a cold leaves you voiceless. miguel is less than happy —featuring grumpy miguel and his cheerful spider-girl. requested here. fem!reader, 2.3k.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel's hackles hike as you appear. You have an obsession with toying with him and he's in the middle of something more important than your whims and wants.

"Don't start," he warns, barely looking at you. 

You point at yourself as if to say, Who, me? Grinning, you pull your arms behind your torso tightly, your shoulders harsh slopes where they'd usually be lax with calm. Your spider suit strains against the movement, shining with a subtle shimmer as you twirl your way into his side. You blink up at him, mock-innocent. 

"What did I just say?" he asks. 

He's expecting a charming rebuttal he doesn't get. You're awfully charismatic; Miguel often thinks you've manufactured a devilish siren call that yanks him in like a fish on a line no matter how hard he tries to split his lip and flee.

You're pretty, sure, but it isn't your looks that endear you to him. You have this way of speaking that's effortlessly carefree, despite the frankly ridiculous depth of the well that is your fondness for the world. It shouldn't make sense, and it does: you're happy because you love the world. When you speak to him, annoy him, praise him and degrade him in the same breath, Miguel thinks you might love him, too. 

You're silent. Miguel takes it as a blessing and finishes analysing the footage playing in front of him. He finishes as quickly as he can, and he's not a dick, he says, "Thank you." Then, with an unimpressed eyebrow raise, "Where have you been?" 

You come to see him so often he kind of forgot you didn't have to. He's taken you for granted, he knows, and after three days of not seeing you he should be happier. He should've asked you about it as soon as you appeared. 

You shrug and point at his screen. He can practically see the question mark in your eyes. 

"That's nothing. What, you're not speaking to me now?" he asks. 

Paper creaks in your hand as you pull a sketchbook from your pocket. Small, lilac, you flip to the first page and show him the scrawled message there with a rueful smile. 

Miguel's expecting a cartoon version of himself, but instead you've written three words. 

I have laryngitis. 

Miguel's gaze flickers between you and your book, assessing the claim with scepticism. "Why would you have that? You're practically impervious to disease." 

You flip to the next page. 

Superbug from Earth-87222 defeated my enhanced healing.

One of your Peter Parker friends lives there. He isn't jealous (because he knows that particular Peter doesn't like girls). "And you can't talk?" he asks. 

The next page. I can't talk.

You tuck the book to your chest. Lips parted, you attempt to speak, but all that comes out is hot air and a cruel croaking scratch that makes his chest ache. 

"Don't hurt yourself," he says, softer than he'd been speaking beforehand. He can't decide whether to glare at you or pull you in for a hug. If he hugs you, you might attach yourself to him like that thing from Alien. He glares. "You could've told me." 

You gesture to your throat. I can't speak. 

"That you were sick, you know how to type. You bother me every day for weeks and then one day you stop showing up, and you don't answer your watch, what am I supposed to think?" 

You stare up at him dreamily. He swears you get off on being scolded half the time. 

Miguel takes your wrist into his hand and turns your wristband forward to showcase the screen. "You see this? You see when my prompt comes up? You could take ten seconds and hit me back." 

Again, you open your small sketchbook, turning to a fourth page. You've predicted him well.

I didn't want to worry you. Don't be mad, handsome, you'll get more wrinkles. 

"Tu sabes todo," he fumes. You know everything. "If you're so smart, you can help me recalibrate the pocket dimension storage." 

You flip a page. It's finally a drawing rather than a knowing line, your familiar artistry obvious in your weighted linework and rushed shading. It's Miguel, his expression one he isn't sure you would've actually seen to reference as well as you have, lovingly concerned with a speech bubble coming from beside his softly rendered hair. Get well soon, cariño. 

He scoffs. "You seem fine to me." 

In truth, you don't seem fine. Now he knows, he can see evidence of your days away. Your lips are chapped under the balm you've applied, your hair dishevelled (though it's often unruly, in line with your personality). You wince when you breathe too hard. Miguel lowers the platform and sets you up next to him on a workbench in the back of the laboratory beside him for purely professional purposes. He has to make sure you're doing the calibration correctly, that's all. 

He can't quite explain away the tea he gets for you from the cafeteria, nor the research he does on the way back to you, Lyla at his shoulder saying, "You're such a softie." 

You find you don't need the sketchbook to communicate. Miguel places your tea down and your smile alone is thanks enough. It's pure reverential delight. He doesn't really deserve it, so he pretends he doesn't see. 

When you need help with a recalibration, you take his wrist gently. You don't even need to point at the screen, the subtle uptilt of your brows enough clue.

"Here, you're almost there," he murmurs under his breath, distracted by the complicated code you've been editing in the corner of the screen. "Oh, is this what you do when I'm not looking?" 

You tug his elbow. 

"No? You're not messing around?" he asks, rolling his eyes. "You think I'm stupid." 

Your fingers tighten. Miguel clicks a couple of things to finish the calibration. He looks at you from over his shoulder. Your face is near. It radiates heat. He bites the tip of his gloved finger and yanks it off clean to press the back of his naked hand to your forehead. 

"You're warm," he says, patting carefully downward. Your skin is as hot as he'd worried. 

Miguel drops his hand without rush, the side of his pinky tracing down your cheek. "Maybe you shouldn't be here." 

You shake your head vehemently. There's something in it he doesn't understand, an uncharacteristic shyness. He supposes he'd feel the same if he were sick like this, but you have no reason to be ashamed of a bad cold.

"Enough calibration, then. Take it easy." 

You do not take it easy. Your first port of call is to request to share his screen. He grants you permission and rescinds it soon after, irked when the majority of his monitor becomes wallpapered by digital post it note drawings of him looking cranky and of you in a crown, a ship's captain's hat, standing on the moon. He sets them each back to the perimeter of his window and tries to work. Trust you to find ways to bother him without teasing aloud. 

He thinks that… but then, his hands falter over the keyboard. You aren't a bother. You irritate him but he kind of likes it, most of the time. He turns his head just enough to see your face, blue and white light kissing your skin. You glow. 

Miguel thinks about how he used to do this alone. Lyla on his shoulder when she felt like it but usually tinkering in the quiet, trying to stop the end of the world, the pressure akin to how Atlas himself must have felt, knees locked and arms braced above his head to stop the Earth falling into the black abyss. Miguel doesn't always know what he's being punished for (or, he didn't). He doesn't know why this ended up on his plate, but the panic of doing it alone ebbs every day. With you by his side, unshakeable if not unfailing, it feels less like a death sentence and more like a problem that needs solving. He can't save everyone, but he can try. He can't stomach the agony of his life if he thinks about the past; you make it easy to stay present. 

Who would he rather have here than you? Out of everyone living that he knows, you're the only person he could stand to sit with for this long. 

It's not the same without your voice. Your murmurings, your kind doting, your put upon and less-so confusion. He misses it more than he can say in that moment, worse when you feel his eyes and turn to face him with a soft smile. 

Everything okay? you ask without asking. 

You don't need to speak. He can see it on your face. 

Miguel gets up from his bench to tower over you. Without giving it too much thought, he bends down, wrapping his right arm behind your shoulders, the left loose over your front, and kisses your forehead with the barest of pressures. It's hardly a kiss at all, and it makes no noise. More like he's resting his lips there, his nose at your hairline, breathing in. His hand rubs an up and down of its own accord into your upper arm, the soft fat of it melding under his touch. 

Your head dips back invitingly. You're like butter in the sun at his touch, a slow melting. 

"If you tell anyone about this, I'll deny it," he says quietly. 

You snort. You give his arm a pat and reach over it to grab your sketchbook. Miguel straightens but doesn't remove his arms, watching as you flick to the right page. 

I can't talk, the page says. You beam at him.

"I see," Miguel says. "You think it's funny because you couldn't tell if you wanted to." 

Your answering hum comes with the feeling of your fingers latching onto his elbow. Exactly. 

Well, fuck it. If you can't tell anyone, Miguel might as well send it. He leans down to grab you up into his hold, a squeezing hug that says everything he wanted to tell you while you were gone, his worry for you and his annoyance at your lack of communication. You don't need audible words to tell him things, and Miguel doesn't need words either. Hopefully his arms around you and his nose digging too rough into your temple says how he feels plainly. 

"I figured you got sick of taking orders," he confesses. You got sick of me. "When you didn't come back." 

You refuse to act small —Miguel doesn't want you to—, standing despite the weight he'd been resting on you, turning in the circle of his arms to look up into his eyes. It's too much, Miguel doesn't want your face this close to his, not with the rawness of his feelings aching a trail up between each of his rib bones, one by one. He clenches his jaw. 

Your hand climbs to his ear. He stays very still. As the initiator he should be forgiving, but your fingers touch his ear and he contemplates sinking his teeth into your hand. You stroke hair away from his face with a dramatised expression that says it's in the way, pesky stuff, though the final fond tuck of it behind the shell of his ear is impossible to deny.

Your thumb rubs his earlobe. 

"Are you having fun?" he asks dryly.

Your nod is sincere. Enthusiastic, you start to ease your fingertips into the thick tresses of his hair. 

Miguel grabs your wrist in an iron grip. 

"Enough." 

He guesses more than knows what your pout means —that isn't fair. 

"Life isn't fair," he says, pressing your forearm to your chest, an action fraught with apology. It's ridiculous how much can be said without words. He'd like for you to get your voice back solely to end this confusing misery. Well, not solely… Miguel misses the sound of it, distinct as your lopsided smiles and unconventional hand movements. "You can file a complaint just as soon as you get your voice back, how's that?" 

You roll your eyes and sit back down on your bench. Miguel takes a lap around the laboratory to calm down, returning to a new program blinking on computer his taskbar to be opened. 

He doesn't give you the satisfaction of looking your way as he opens it. 

"Miguel!" The program chirps, in a voice jarringly close to yours but not nearly as sophisticated as the majority of language intelligence he uses in his own coding. "I was waiting for you, handsome! Where have you been? Now you're back, I have a very special song to sing for you. Sing along if you know this one! Alright… Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine bottles of beer! You take one down, pass it around, ninety nine bottles of beer…"

Miguel realises he can't mute or close the program shortly thereafter. Vocaloid you counts down to sixty one bottles of beer by the time he resigns to turning off his computer altogether, a headache twinging angrily behind his eyes. 

Maybe he could use a break from your voice after all. 

You giggle breathlessly at him as he drops his face into his hands. 

"Drink your tea," he orders, words muffled by his palms.

He doesn't look up. There's the sound of a big sip. Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. He's kidding himself —the sooner you get your voice back, the better. 

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank you for reading!

[stellamancer]

prompt: peel back the layers of me, on purpose or accidentally + “i’m not stopping— not now, not ever.”

summary: in the aftermath of everything, megumi is barely surviving.

wc: 1.8k

contains: gn!reader (reader is not a sorcerer but aware of jujutsu society), canon divergent with spoilers post shibuya incident arc, mentioned character deaths (megumi is the only survivor 😭), angst, hurt/comfort

co-written by @seiwas as part of our milestone event collab: keep this love unspoken (tell me as loud as you can) [closed]

You find Megumi in the rain.

He stands from a distance, back hunched and fingers twisted in what you know calls for Divine Dogs. The moonlight lends itself to his shadows, a distant light cast upon what’s left below—illuminations over darkened silhouettes.

You know he can’t summon them anymore, their powers having trickled over to the handful of shikigami he has left. But you think at this moment, body slack and drenched in rainfall, that he looks like one right now—a lone wolf staring at the moon, searching, reaching.

(His howls are deafeningly silent.)

“Megumi!” you shout, the umbrella in your hand shaking as your waterproof jacket shelters you without warmth.

He doesn’t respond—you didn’t expect him to, anyway.

Megumi’s been different for a while. Withdrawn.

And though he’s always been hidden within layers of himself, it never used to be this many; he would always shed one off when it came to you.

“You’re going to get sick!” you attempt again.

You’ve known this secluded clearing since you were 10. It lies deep inside the training grounds of the college, hidden within tall trees and winding paths—as if it was always meant to safe-keep the memories made in them: the first time Megumi ‘trained’ with Gojo at age 7; the day when you, wide-eyed and seeing, knowing of the horrors of this world–his world–were eventually introduced as his training companion years later.

He doesn’t move.

You take a deep breath, stepping towards him.

Companion, not partner is what you are.

With your abilities limited to just seeing, you never had to fight his battles. Instead you watched, sat on the sidelines as you both grew, always around but never beside him—because, what else could you do?

Even when his world continued to take, and take, and take; Tsumiki. Nobara.

Gojo.

Yuuji.

It was (is) all you could (can) do.

Walking towards him now, with unease weighing on every press against crunching grass and sinking soil, you wonder if this is what it feels like to enter a battlefield.

The air is thick and damp, a sickening cold that seeps deep into bones—when you get close, he’s heaving, each rise and fall of his back punctuated by ripples of white cotton clinging.

“Megumi,” you say softer but not any less firm, “we should head back.”

The word rings in his ears.

(Back? Back to what?)

He turns his face to the side, droplets falling from the tips of his hair and down the slope of his nose. It’s awful how you’re reminded of a scene completely different from this—him, at 10, fighting back a smile as you play in the rain with his lone two shikigami.

“Still training,” he finally speaks, tone flat. Unfeeling.

Except he isn’t. You know he isn’t—isn’t training, isn’t unfeeling.

Eight years, you’ve known Megumi, two since he lost everything. You’d always seen it as a blessing that your hands could never bear the power to be weaponized against anything, but now you curse every twisted fate in jujutsu society that there’s no one left to carry the burden but Megumi.

You sigh, extending your arm as you step closer to cover him with the umbrella.

“I’ll keep you company then.”

That’s what you are after all—it’s what you’ve always been, throughout the past two years especially. His eyes no longer meet yours as if speaking to you without talking; the small smile he used to give you now falls flat, static. Fingers that once moved fluidly, surely, now fidget as he picks at the sides of his nail beds, skin peeling.

“You don’t have to,” he mutters tightly, the call for Demon Dogs morphing into clenched fists beside him.

Something in him feels like snapping.

How can you just always be there?

Waiting. Tending.

It shouldn’t tick him off as much as it does right now, but it does, because—

“Well,” you clear your throat, shifting your feet, “someone has to keep you dry if you’re staying out here.”

—you say it so easily, as if this is something you just do and not give.

As if he should even be here, when he shouldn’t. Especially not on the receiving end of it.

His chest burns.

“I didn’t ask for that,” he spits out, grabbing hold of the edge of the umbrella to tip it over, knocking it out of your hands.

It falls to the ground and rolls away, but you don’t move to grab it— your eyes are on Megumi.

Only Megumi.

The fire in his chest rages on, bright and hot, the flames licking at his ribcage. It hurts, it’s painful. His heart is charred, with little left to serve as kindling and yet, despite the rain, despite everything, it remains ablaze.

Just like the fire in your eyes right now.

Rather than reach for the umbrella, you take a step toward him, the rain saturating your clothes, your skin, but you don’t seem to notice, don’t seem to care.

All Megumi can think of is how it's unfair.

You shouldn’t be wasting your time on him, not with his bloodied hands and dark thoughts. He never should have survived, he didn’t deserve to survive. Fushiguro Megumi is living on time that isn’t just borrowed— it’s stolen, ripped from the hands and souls of those far, far more deserving.

Time is precious, he’s learned, but here you are trying to throw yours away.

“Megumi, please,” you say and while your words are soft, there’s a tautness there that Megumi painfully recognizes. Tsumiki would use that tone too, in her patience, in her frustration, whenever Megumi would act out. He’d always bend to her will eventually, but you are not Tsumiki.

He will not give in to you.

“Can’t you see how tired you are?” you plead. It doesn’t matter; he doesn’t care, and either you don’t seem to realize, or you do and you don’t care either. “I know you want to keep training, but I really think that maybe you should turn in for the night. Get a good night’s sleep and start again in the morning.”

Megumi hasn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in ages, and honestly speaking, he doesn’t think he will ever again. How can he when he knows that Yuuji and Nobara will never wake up again? He starts to turn away from you. “I’m not tired.”

“Megumi!” He hears you take another step and feels the slightest tug at his shirt—

Gojo gave him this shirt for his 15th birthday. It was two sizes too large and exactly the type of thing Gojo liked to wear himself. Whenever Megumi wore it, he looked childlike and ridiculous; in fact the first time he put it on Gojo laughed so hard that Megumi swore he saw tears in his eyes. Megumi remembers snapping at him, telling him if he was going to buy someone clothes as a gift, it would be best to buy clothes that actually fit, but Gojo had merely laughed it off, telling Megumi he’d grow into it one day.

Now Gojo is gone, but just as he said, Megumi's grown into the shirt. It fits better now, even though it’s worn and fraying. Whenever he wears it he can almost hear Gojo laughing at him, telling Megumi ‘I told you so’ in that annoying voice of his.

All he hears right now is the ripping of fabric.

Megumi’s body goes completely still and you are oddly silent.

It’s almost as if time has stopped.

But then the apologies start spewing from your mouth, unending and torrential, just like the rain above. “Oh my god, Megumi, I’m so sorry, I—”

He turns around to face you, and the shirt rips even more, tearing more and exposing his chest. Any hope of the shirt being repaired is gone, but Megumi doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, because all he sees right now is you, fretting and wide eyed, “I told you to just leave me alone!”

You fall silent, your words and apologies staunched. The downpour surrounding you both only seems to get louder, more relentless, and the both of you are soaked to the bone. There’s no way that either of you are getting out of this without catching a cold, but Megumi doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he doesn’t—

“Why do you keep doing this?” he demands. “Why don’t you just—”

He stops short, all the words in his head trying to fly out of his mouth all at once.

In the midst of his silence, you speak up, your voice barely audible, “...just… what?”

Stop.

Leave.

Go away.

“...this is pointless,” he finally answers.

“No, Megumi it’s—”

“It is!” he argues, his voice rising. “You’re wasting your time with me, so just stop already!”

Life isn’t fair. Megumi learned that long, long ago. When his father abandoned him, when Tsumiki fell into a coma, when Yuuji died over and over, when Gojo died at his hands. Time and time again Megumi has had it beat into his head, burned into his mind that life isn’t fair.

And neither, he’s learned, are you.

“I won’t,” you say, voice firm, resolute. You take another step toward him, and it feels almost as if Megumi’s entire world is shaking, tilting on its axis and flipping upside down. The fire in your eyes burns bright and hot, the flames calling to the one raging in his chest. It aches and yearns. His heart is smoldering, but still it beats, drumming to a beat that’s at odds with the torrent surrounding you both.

You reach for him, and before Megumi can try to dodge, before he can slip through your fingers, your hands cup his cheek, gentle and firm before you bring him down so that you are both eye to eye. He sees himself reflected in your eyes, widened and bewildered. The only thing you see is Megumi.

Only Megumi.

“I’m not stopping,” you say, thumbs pressing into his cheeks, as if you’re trying to leave a mark. “Not now, not ever!”

And then you kiss him.

It’s like a shock to his system— lightning striking the ground where he stands. You’re putting everything into this, your frustration, your desperation, your love. Megumi can feel it, flowing from you to him, like electricity, like cursed energy. His hands shake, torn between pushing you away because he doesn’t deserve this, doesn’t deserve you, and holding you close because you’re all he has left.

This isn’t fair.

You pull away slowly, and Megumi only wants to give chase. He knows he shouldn’t and yet…

“I…” he begins, the words fumbling around in his mouth. “I don’t…”

“I don’t care,” you interject, cutting him off. “You can tell me that you don’t deserve this; but I don’t care. Life isn’t fair, I know, so why should I have to be?”

Megumi stares at you, speechless.

“So, Megumi please,” you plead once more, and this time all Megumi hears is you and you alone. “Please let me in.”

It seems the rain won’t stop anytime soon, and, for better or worse, neither will you.

With a deep sigh, he relents.

He gives in to you.

notes: requested by @firein-thesky

cielo! thank you so much for requesting and we're sorry it took so long, but hopefully it was worth the wait!!

um, i'm (niku) not sure what else to say regarding this piece. sel took the lead here actually and i did my best to match her in terms of writing but i think you can tell when i took over LMAO. i don't want to ramble too much but maybe i should do like sel and do my notes at the end from now on too... hmm.