#but not nearly as much as the ghost version

[that-trans-autistic-guy]

The Dream of Being in DBD as a Trans Character: Updated

i've posted the original version of this here, but im posting this revised one here bcuz i live in a country that hates me apparently and im going to plaster my story everywhere bcuz its important. people like me are important and we deserve to be seen, along with our stories.

The plot begins with a client walking in. A ghost boy, no older than eighteen, comes in and asks for their assistance. His friend, who we’ll call Roy, had moved to the UK before the ghost, we’ll call Gilbert, passed away. The two were extremely close and Gil was Roy’s only real friend. Gil’s request is that the agency finds Roy and helps him deliver a last message to his friend. It takes some discussion, but the agency agrees.

We see a teen walking through a high school, head down, headphones on and clearly on the outside (think Edwin’s scene of walking against all the other students). Some jock in a varsity jacket slaps the books out of his hands. One particular book gets kicked down the hallway or something, and the whole hallway watches him go after it. His locker has all sorts of insults scribbled onto it, multiple of which are feminine in nature. Roy just sighs as he exchanges some of his supplies.

We watch him go through classes, just glimpses of classmates glaring, throwing papers at him, etc. He doesn’t respond to it beyond a few resigned expressions and sighs. A bell rings and the hallways are flooded by people going to lunch. Enter Crystal Palace, flanked by Edwin and Charles. She asks if he has a moment to talk and he says something like, “Look, I’m just trying to go eat without getting fucked up. So if you and your ghost boyfriends could just leave me alone, that’d be great.” He walks off, leaving Crystal and the boys extremely confused.

They didn’t think he would be able to see them. Gil had said he’d never said anything about seeing ghosts.

Crystal and the boys talk to the other students about Roy, posing as new/exchange students who’d noticed something about him. None of the students are particularly nice, saying he’s weird and abnormal. They also add in statements saying things like he’s “a girl playing pretend” and other statements in that vein. It confuses the boys, especially Edwin, but it seems to click for Crystal.

She finds Roy after school, hiding in the art/band room while the hoard of students goes outside to leave. His headphones are still on and he’s on his phone, but his head whips up the second the psychic enters so he’s clearly on high alert. Crystal sits across from him and asks why he could see ghosts.

Roy explains that when he came out, his parents stopped caring. They didn’t accept him, help him transition and refused to call him by his name. When he was seventeen, his appendix burst. He’d complained for multiple days that something was very wrong with his stomach and his parents ignored it. It burst at school and he nearly died from their negligence. 

He saw his first ghost at the school, as soon as he’d returned. It was a girl who had died the previous year in an accident, still attending classes with the rest of her classmates. He even spoke to the ghost a few times, but he never brought it up to Gilbert or anyone else. His classmates already bullied him and he wasn’t eager to give them more ammunition. Even so, he’d occasionally sneak into a bathroom to talk to the rather lonely ghost girl. He knew loneliness all too well and didn’t wish it on anyone.

After the whole ordeal, his uncle asked for custody and they gave it over without protest. Once he had it, his uncle, who we’ll call Josh, immediately worked on helping him transition. Josh got him to doctors who gave him HRT and helped him legally change his name. When Josh was told he would move to England for his high paying job barely six months later, he got Roy top surgery scheduled before they left. He enrolled in his current school, which had just as much bullying as his last. 

Crystal tells him that his friend, Gilbert, had contacted them to find him and help deliver a message. Roy’s shocked and asked if he could see Gil. The three agree, saying they could arrange something for that night. They make conversation until Roy deems it safe enough for him to leave. He gives them an awkward wave on the way out.

The two friends reunite that night. It’s tearful and emotional. We learn, through conversation or flashbacks, that Gilbert had died shortly after Roy moved away in a car accident. Roy had flown out to be at his best friend’s funeral and had been inconsolable. Gil’s family had let him sit with them, basically his own family. The boys hold each other like they might fade away, resting their foreheads together.

They talk. Gil reassures him that he was okay, that he was glad Roy was still going. He’s sad that Roy hasn’t made any new friends and the boy says he’s scared of letting in the wrong people. He says that maybe he can start with the detectives and Roy agrees that maybe he can. They talk a little more, the two stating that they love each other and similar statements, and Gil’s ready to move on. The blue light appears and he smiles sadly, giving his friend one last hug. He tells Roy to look after himself, asks the agency to look after him, too. Roy is holding in a sob but tells Gilbert to go on and that he’ll see him later, yeah? Gilbert nods and goes with Death, the light disappearing. As it does, we see the ghost boys holding hands, cast in blue light, reminded of their own deep friendship and unable to imagine parting.

Roy swipes at his tears as the agency approaches. They all offer their condolences, even a hug maybe, and he accepts. He asks if what they do is helping people move on and they say that it is. He nods and says that he’d like to help them sometimes, to which they all agree. The four of them hang out for a while, letting Roy tell the stories of Gilbert he’d been aching to tell.

When Roy goes home, his uncle is still up. The teen had said he would be out with potential new friends. Josh asks if the hangout went well and immediately worries when he sees his nephew’s tears. Roy is quick to tell him it was great, better than he could have imagined. He tells his uncle that he told them about Gilbert and even got to share his memories of him. Josh gets tearful as well when Roy says that he thinks he might actually have a group of friends he could be really close to. The two hug before the camera pans back to the agency. Perhaps the boys are deep in thought, perhaps they’re talking about the case and how it made them feel. But it’s clear that whether said aloud or not, the case had hit very close to home. And it leaves them with things to think about.

I like to think Roy would make a few other appearances, in a similar way to Monty. Edwin would ask him questions about his identity and queer stuff, notebook in hand. Charles and him would mess around, playing jokes on the others. He and Crystal would commiserate over neglectful parents, helping her as she tries to rebuild her life. When Niko comes back, they’d share shows and books they each like. 

Maybe the bullying gets bad and one of the ghost boys goes with him to school, casually tripping the bullies or being silly around them while the bully is oblivious. Roy slowly makes a friend or two at school, and overall comes out of his shell bit by bit. And he can almost see Gilbert smiling from beyond.

again, im posting this bcuz despite the last election, our stories matter and so do we. queer stories matter. trans stories matter. and if you don't like it, suck it up. cuz we arent going anywhere.

[thermodynamic-comedian]

how come some songs only become lena kelley coded once ghost covers them. it's happened three times now.

[wandixx]

Halloween dress-up, let's go!!!

Assignment: "Dress up as ghosts".

Status: Yes. They're ghosts. Just really different types of ghosts

[miraclemioart]

mashing together my two teenage years interests for dopamine

[trashcreatyre]

I think the main thing that pisses me off about like 90% of mephiles ships is that people will be like "how old is he??" Look that fanwiki says that he's ten and they RUN with it. Like they don't read further. I'm so convinced that most people don't even know the plot of 06 bc the shit I've seen people draw and write with the characters is just mind boggling.

[treepainting]

Can I just say that it is an absolute honor that you took my tags and ran with it

I am loudly pushing the batdad agenda i am loudly pushing the— DPxDC Prompt

“Woah. You look like shit."

Granted, that’s probably not the first thing Danny should be saying to the guy that just bit the curb, but in his defense; he’s not running on 100% right now either.

The man -- tall, towering, and broader than Danny is tall -- whips around on his heel, black frayed cape flaring out impressively. Danny would've whistled in appreciation, but he takes the time instead to wipe the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood running from his nose across his cheek.

"Sorry." He blinks widely, not even flinching as the man with the horns zeroes in on him. "That was rude of me. I have a really bad brain-to-mouth filter; Sam says its what always gets me into trouble."

And she's not wrong either, per say. His smart mouth is what landed him in this situation -- with blood blossom extract running through his veins and cannibalizing the ectoplasm in his bloodstream. Thanks Vlad.

The man grunts at him; a short, curt "hm" that shouldn't make Danny smile, but he does because he's somewhat delirious and probably concussed. The man keeps some kind of distance, sinking towards the shadows of Gotham's alleyway like he dares to melt right into it.

If it's supposed to scare Danny, it doesn't work. Danny's never been afraid of the dark; he's always been able to hide himself in it. He blinks slowly at the mass of shadows.

"You look hurt." The shadows says, blurring together around the edges. Danny squints, and licks his lips to get the blood dripping down his chin off. Ugh, he hates the taste of blood.

"I am." He says, "My godfather poisoned me. M'dying." The agony of the blood blossom eating him from the inside out looped back around to numbing a while ago, so all he feels is half-awake and dazed.

"Hey," Danny stumbles forward towards the man, a bloodied hand reaching out to him. "You-- you're a hero, right? You're not attacking me; which is more than I can say for most costumed people I've met." Maybe it's a poor bar to judge someone at, but he's already established that Danny's not in his right mind.

The man makes no change in expression, but Danny realizes blearily that it's hard to tell with the shadows on his face. He stays still long enough for Danny to latch onto the cape -- stretchy, but almost soft under his fingers.

He looks up blearily into the whites of the man's eyes. "Can you help me? I don't-- I don't wanna die." Again. He doesn't wanna die again. He blinks slow and lizard-like. "I mean- I'll probably get to see mom and dad again, but I told them I'd at least try and make it to adulthood."

There's a clatter down the street, and Danny's ghost sense chills up his spine and leaves a bitter, ashy taste in his mouth. He immediately knows who it belongs to even before the deceptively gentle; "Daniel?" echoes down the way.

"Daniel? Quit your games, badger, Gotham is dangerous for children."

Danny's mouth pulls back, and blood spills against his tongue. "Please." He rasps, and grabs onto the shadow's cape with both hands. "Please. He's going to kill me. Please--"

"Daniel? Is that you?"

His lips part, dragging in air to plead with the darkness again. He doesn't need to, the whites of his eyes narrow, and the cape whirls around him before Danny can blink. Soon swaddled in shadows, the Night lifts him up, and steals him away.

[djarincore]

TAGS: incubus!ghost, smut, dubcon, somnophilia, fingering, PIV

A/N: i had a hard time falling asleep the other night and between that weird state of feeling awake but also asleep i felt this weird sensation of someone touching me sooo... INCUBUS!GHOST banner: @/cafekitsune

this version is definitely sexier than unsettling lol

Slipping between the realm of reality and dream, you lay on your stomach in a half-awake state of grogginess and confusion.

There's a hand on your leg—and, it's slipping further and further up your thigh.

It's heavy against your skin. You feel the individual fingers curve around the meat of your thigh. Then another trails your waist and down your hip.

For a moment you feel like there are hands all over you, touching you, caressing you. A light, unrestrained moan slips past your lips.

The part of your brain that typically jumps into action, demanding for you to kick or scream, remains dormant. You’re too tired to care enough to open your eyes and face what will ultimately be nothing.

In its exhaustion, your brain is conjuring up phantom touches. That's all this is. It will go away and you'll finally be able to slip back into unconsciousness. Or maybe you were already asleep and dreaming.

You bury your face into your pillow and ignore the tricks your brain is playing on you.

But the hands remain persistent, slipping between your thighs, cupping your cunt. You tense as the hand slides your panties to the side, a thick finger drags down the seam of your slit.

“You awake?”

A gruff voice jolts you out of your daze. You turn yourself onto your back and come face to face with a phantom.

A large figure looms over you. His body hides the sliver of moonlight shining through your window, shrouding you and him in darkness. Though his body is that of a man, he isn't entirely human. His face, if you can even call it that, resembles a skull, hollow eyes stare down at you.

Your lips part, only to realize your mouth is dry, a scream barely forms. You attempt to scramble away from his hands, pushing yourself against the headboard.

“Ah, not so fast,” he grunts, gripping your hands and pulling you back flat against the bed. He pins your hands against your chest, squeezing when you wiggle against his grip. “I’m not nearly finished with you.”

Your tongue darts out to swipe across your lower lip. “What do you want?”

The entity doesn't respond right away. He's distracted by the bobbing of your throat as you try to swallow your fear. A hand reaches out to skim the skin along your neck, tracing up the column of your throat with his knuckles.

You hate that his touch is so gentle—so gentle it makes your legs clench. Your brows furrow as you try to push away the desire pooling in your belly as he touches you.

“Same as you,” he says. His hand moves to cradle your cheek, but you turn your head, making him grab your jaw and face him once more.

He leans in close. You see nothing but darkness beyond the holes in his skull mask; the lower half of his face is simply shadow. “Need a good fuckin’. So, lay still and let me work.”

As you breathe him in, smoke and musk, your eyes feel heavy. It's almost pleasant to be stuck in this state, just on the edge of unconsciousness. Your thoughts are a haze, limbs relaxed and limp, pliant beneath him.

“That's right, just give in to it,” he coos, releasing your jaw and wrists. He slides your T-shirt up to reveal your breasts, running his thumb over your pert nipples. “I’ll make you feel good.”

Your mouth falls open when he grinds his hard cock against you. Your chest heaves, but you can't do much against him besides lay vulnerable as he touches you.

He slips a hand back into your underwear, rubbing slow circles against your clit, chuckling when your hips twitch. A finger pets your slit, gathering your wetness along the tip and guiding it back to your clit. He works you up until your legs tremble around him and then pushes two thick fingers into your tight hole. He moves slowly, fingers working inside of you like a caress.

You're a whimpering mess and awfully tired. The more he builds your climax the heavier your eyes get. “I- ‘m gonna-” you muster, weakly clawing at your sheets.

He lowers himself to your cunt, letting his tongue join his fingers, lapping at your juices and moaning. He hums, something low and lulling, “Good girl, let go for me.”

You do as he commands, tightening around his fingers and coming on his hand. The rest of the world begins to fall away as you come down from your orgasm.

You wake to the wet sounds of him fucking you. His cock slides out of your dripping, sore cunt only to thrust back in, fitting snug in your tight walls. Your legs are pushed up, spread and open for him to fit between.

You don't know how long he's been in you or how long you’ve been passed out. “S-Stop,” you whine, hoping to get a break. Even though you assume you slept, you're still exhausted. You fear whatever this entity wants from you, once he has it, you'll never wake up again.

“No,” he grunts. His voice now takes on a heavy rasp, grating and no longer soothing. “Fuckin’ take it.”

“Please,” you whimper. It's pathetic, breathless but all you can seem to muster. “Don't kill me.”

He laughs and the sound echoes through you. He rubs your puffy clit, making you flinch from the sensitivity and clench around him.

“Oh, ‘m not killin’ you; I'm keepin’ you.”

[superhoeva]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐘 𝐅𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐘: 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓

main masterlist | series masterlist | tag

⬩ pairing(s) gomez inspired!simon "ghost" riley x morticia inspired!fem!reader

⬩ warning(s) language, spiders, devoted husband!simon (seriously, he's absolutely obsessed with you!), pregnancy (mention), dad!simon, mom!reader

⬩ author's note spooky season might be over but it's always halloween at the riley house! saw an addams family gif a little while ago and had to go back and watch the sitcom version from '64. i ended up not being able to stop imagining simon in a relationship like gomez and morticia's–passionate and completely devoted to each other and their family! i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing it, as there is much more of the riley family to come! (lovely divider is by @wethairjoel)

⬩ word count 1.4k

You’re uncomfortable here. Simon can feel it without even having to look at you.

The lights are too bright in the headmaster’s office, as are all the colors decorating the walls around you. No wonder his little Raven comes home with a frown that reminds him of yours and stories that make the entire house groan.

It’s when you shift for the second time, sniffing and rolling your stiff shoulders, that Simon places a warm palm on the back of your neck. The man watches you carefully as you all but melt into the touch, sinking against his hand with a soft sigh. It takes you a moment but you finally turn your head to meet his eyes, a silent thank you oozing from them in the quiet. His response–a squeeze of his hand–works well to settle you.

“Just a little longer, my darling,” your husband murmurs softly, not having to lean very far in his chair to plant a lingering kiss on the shell of your ear. He takes in a long inhale, the smell of you somewhat calming his frayed nerves. He breathes you in once more before kissing you again, this time on your jaw. “Then we’ll pick up our girl and leave this fuckin' hell they call a school.”

Simon’s lips drag nicely against you as he speaks. Slipping against you with light pecks, and staying there so long that it glides your hand into his grasp without you even noticing.

“I wonder what she’s done now. Hopefully something only a little unfortunate…” you sigh out, Simon laughing shortly against you as his mind fills with all the possible troubles his firstborn can cause. She takes after both you and Simon, he finds. Wickedly smart, fearless, and holds just enough disdain to make it the rest of the world’s problem.

Oh, your little Raven. Named after the blackbird that landed on the window seal the foggy morning you found out you were pregnant nearly seven years ago.

Neither of you bother to look when the door creaks open behind you, as Headmaster Archer is no one to be impressed by. A microscopic grin, however, cracks your lips when you hear his steps hesitate at the sight of you and your husband settled in front of his desk. It’s gone quicker than it came when you remind yourself where you are; in a little man’s stupid office for a reason you already know you’ll despise.

The footsteps resume after a quiet sigh, Headmaster Archer plastering an obviously fake smile as his greeting. He has to ease down in his chair, still not used to how harsh the pitch-black hue of your and Simon’s clothing clashes with the rest of the school.

“Mr. and Mrs. Riley… always a pleasure.”

“I wish we could say the same,” Simon rumbles back with an unimpressed look, the index finger of his free hand absentmindedly drawing swirls on the back of your hand. “Can we get on with it? ‘Ve got places to be.”

“Don’t we all,” Headmaster Archer chuckles rather nervously. The smile on his face drops into something uneasy at the displeased expressions on your and Simon’s faces. He gathers himself with a pathetic clearing of his throat and straightening of some blank, unimportant papers. He doesn’t even attempt to look at you, knowing that his bones will shake hard enough to shatter if he were to do such a thing. Instead, the headmaster settles for a few meek glances in Simon’s direction. “Alright. Well, I’ll try to make this as simple as possible; there was an… incident that occurred in Raven’s class today.”

Even with Simon still gripping just above your back, you grow painfully rigid. Your question leaves you, hot and quick.

“What incident?”

Headmaster Archer swallows thickly, still unable to flick his eyes your way. “It happened during today’s show and tell–”

“Look at my wife when you speak to her, Headmaster.”

The man behind the desk nearly jumps at Simon’s words. They ring darkly in the room, and the headmaster has to wring his shaking fingers hard to gain the courage to finally do as Simon commands. He doesn’t remember how to talk until an arched eyebrow from you has his voice croaking out.

“Tarantulas. She brought tarantulas–three of them, all as big and hairy as a rat–for show and tell. Pulled them out like they were nothing, then tried to pass them around. Her instructor was barely able to reign them up in all the chaos they caused. Children were crying. The adults were shaking. In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it…”

The ramble trails off into nothing, allowing you and Simon a moment of quiet while the headmaster wipes at his face with a cheap handkerchief. God, you two make him sweat, and not in a good way.

Tilting your head, you peek over at your husband. He’s already looking at you, face reading ‘For fuck’s sake.’ Licking your lips, your eyes cut back to Headmaster Archer. 

“Not to be obtuse,Headmaster, but I don’t see what your issue is. All she wanted was to show her fellow pupils her favorite pets. Is that really so bad?”

“It is when the pets are spiders, Mrs. Riley. Not just spiders, but dangerous ones that, frankly, a child as young as Raven should not have access to.”

The headmaster has no idea where the things spilling out of his mouth are coming from. Maybe it’s the heat of the room making him a little braver. Maybe it’s because he knows he’ll see Raven’s spiders in his nightmares tonight, you and Simon standing along with them happily while they eat him alive. 

Regret soon washes over him faster than he can think. Even more so when he sees Simon, in all his dark clothes and scars and thick muscles, clench his jaw and shift in his seat like he’s thinking about hitting the man. Coincidentally, you’re the one moving first, giving the hand of a seething Simon a tender squeeze before you uncross your legs to stand.

You don’t have to move any closer than you are now to say what you want. The anger dripping from your tone is sharp enough to slice at him as it always does.

You’re all sinister smiles as you promise the man. “If you upset my daughter again, you’ll have a lot more than a few spiders to worry about, Headmaster.”

With that, you’re gone. Nothing more from you other than one last glare at the headmaster and a sweet kiss on Simon’s cheek before your heels click out of the horrid office. If Simon wasn’t so miffed, he’d remember to swivel his head to watch your hips as you go.

Unlucky for the headmaster, Simon does not swivel or admire. All he does is stare something horrid into the man across from him, eyes so hot they could bore a hole into the sweaty head of Archer if Simon wished it hard enough. 

The two remain in that position for a good while–Headmaster Archer doing all he can not to evaporate into a puddle of fear and Simon nearly wishing the man dead for making his girls upset. It’s around five minutes later when a small voice sounds at the office entrance.

“Papa, can we leave now? Mama’s ready.”

Simon rips away his glare, making sure to soften his eyes as he looks back at his daughter. He can tell she’s a little sad, mostly annoyed, as she cradles her tarantulas in a see-through cage. 

“Of course,” he coos without a second look to the headmaster, raising from his chair and moving to lift his daughter into his arms. He kisses her forehead, arms encircling her to ensure she doesn’t fall. “And you did nothing wrong, my girl. Do you hear me? Let’s just make sure to keep our pets at home from now on, yes? These silly little people don’t know how to appreciate them like you do.”

“Yes, Papa,” little Raven nods dutifully, Simon rewarding her with another kiss on the cheek and rub on her back. “Can we stop and catch crickets for my spiders on the way home? They’ve had a rough day…”

Simon huffs a laugh, glancing down at the cage of spiders with a short smile. He looks back up at his daughter and winks, exiting the office and leaving behind a shaking, sweating, helpless Headmaster Archer.

“Anything for you, my little devil.”

VOTE IN THE LATEST POLL (NOV 4-5)

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[demilypyro]

Kind of incredible what a homerun Mad Mew Mew is.

In Undertale's base game, the Mad Dummy is a one-off joke miniboss. It comes at you outta nowhere, delivers some funny dialogue, and isn't important in the slightest. The dummy's personality was mostly pretty hostile and unpleasant, so people didn't like it much. Before the Switch release, this was one of Undertale's least cared-about characters.

Then the Switch port releases, and Mad Dummy is back as Mad Mew Mew, in an optional boss fight. Except Mad Mew Mew seems uncharacteristically happy. She goes on about finding a new body and instantly recognizing it as herself, and it's a pretty dang obvious trans allegory. Mad Mew Mew shows a lot more vulnerability, making her hostility seem more like a self defense mechanism and upping her likeability. Lo and behold, one of Undertale's least popular characters instantly becomes a trans icon.

Before this, similar theories existed about Mettaton, since he is another ghost looking for his perfect body, but the allegory wasn't nearly as un-obvious as it was with Mew Mew.

It's honestly crazy that she's still almost exclusively in the Switch port. Her fight was not included in the Xbox version, nor was it patched into the Steam release. She also has not made a major appearance in Deltarune.

[ghostaholics]

𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑

➸ PAIRING: Lieutenant Simon 'Ghost' Riley x gn medic!Reader (same reader from here, but this is a stand-alone) ➸ SUMMARY: You kiss Simon's very minor injuries. And then some. (Or, alternatively: He's not actually wounded. He just wants to see you.) ➸ WARNING(S): some graphic descriptions of old injuries ➸ A/N: Need to preface that this isn't smut despite how the title and summary sound. Anyways, Jo knows I listened to Hozier's Other Voices 2020 version of "Work Song" for a week straight while writing this. ➸ WC: 2k

❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐈𝐍' 𝐎𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐋𝐃, ❞ he admits, low-timbered. It feels intimate, especially coming from him. Simon's sitting on the cot; it sags under his weight. He curls his hands over the edge of it as he leans forward. No casualties post-mission means he's got free rein to pick wherever he wants in the medical tent.

"Oh, yeah? What about?"

"That I should probably do my best to avoid injuries so I don’t keep pestering you. Can always just tell me to fuck off, y’know.”

“You’re gonna break my heart if you stop coming around.

“Mm,” he says in agreement. “Can’t have that can we?”

You nod your head earnestly. “I like your company.”

“Tryin’ to say that you’ll miss me?”

“I would.” More than he knows.

It’s routine now. He gives you just enough room, adjusting his position. You step into the space made between Simon’s splayed knees, his massive legs nearly bracketing yours with how close they are. He’s bigger than you. Well, considerably more mammoth-like in his proportions compared to an overwhelming majority of the soldiers that you’ve encountered, to be quite honest.

Simon acts as though he’s acutely aware of his size. You suspect that he purposefully makes himself smaller in your presence. Like now, how his shoulders are rounded forward, the column of his spine not as straight-arrow in that standard, militaristic posture most servicemen have adopted. As if he doesn’t want to appear too intimidating. Not that Simon could, to you. Hours doing his stitches and idle chitchat on your part have taught you that he’s much less ruthless than people seem to paint him as. But you appreciate the thought anyway.

You conduct the assessment – a typical evaluation normal for combat casualty care, more in-depth than the one you’d done when he initially stopped by and you did a quick once-over for any obvious injuries. Though given the complete vacancy in the medical tent, you find it hard to believe that you’ll come across anything on him since the mission went that smoothly.

The first thing you notice this time: he doesn't smell like spilled blood. It's different. Not that sweet, rusted iron of wet tackiness – the one that reminds you of a generous stack of two pence coins held between a pair of hands cupped together. He comes in that way a lot. Reeks, because war means that he's no stranger to charging through a shower of copper and lead-forged bullets out on the field. Everything else is still there, though. Maybe a dying campfire – crackling logs and blackened earth. Soft dirt excavated from a foxhole for cover while under enemy fire. All gunpowder and Marlboro Lights and diesel-fuel smoke. Fresh rain and a blue-violet sky after a storm. Victory without consequence.

You'd breathe it in if you could, pull the collar of his jacket up to your face. At this proximity, it’d be easy.

He drops the act when he’s in front of you. Lieutenant. Ghost. Battle-hardened, gruff. A natural-born leader. The kind of person to rip this world apart brick by brick – scraped up palms clutching onto broken pieces – to make sure that the plan is executed accordingly, no matter the cost. It’s hard for him to shed that layer. A drop in the bucket of information that you’ve gathered about this man.

You’ve seen him at his best. But you know him at his worst.

The laundry list of injuries over the years: blows to his torso and his back and his limbs that were brighter than technicolor – purples and reds and sickly yellow-green shades – deep, blotchy medals of violence decorating his skin like some kind of fucked-up kaleidoscope that was nothing to be proud of; when some bastard drove a knife right into his upper thigh, that dirty blade wedged through tissue and muscle which was sure as hell going to induce the nastiest infection without serious TLC and a tetanus shot; rib fractures 7-9 because he aborted an exploding heli, seconds to spare before landing on his side wrong from a height that was equivalent to three stories tall; old GSWs dotting his body the same way you’d shove push pins into a paper-flimsy map to mark the places you’ve been to.

And then there’s no contest for the top contender. 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 #𝟏: when he was rushed in on a stretcher, barely clinging to life. Lower abdomen shredded by exploding shrapnel. He was outside of the window of opportunity. Too far beyond that golden hour, so his chances of surviving plummeted to a single-digit percent.

He’s more than just a patchwork of scars. There’s a complex person underneath the surface. A miracle in the flesh to have toughed it out through all of that. Resilient. Perpetual. His callsign makes sense. Ghosts really do live forever.

Several seconds pass before you speak again. It’s a silly comment, teasing – poking fun at him. You don’t have any reservations when it comes to picking on Simon; he’s good about taking these things in stride. Funny, actually. He’s got a dry sense of humor. “I think… you like the idea of someone taking care of you.”

His response isn’t immediate. It’s delayed, said with intention. He doesn’t ever waste words. “Not just anybody.”

You nearly reel back at that. Warmth floods your face. You aren’t quite sure what to say, didn’t expect it. So you let the comment hang in the air between the two of you, busying your hands with slipping off his tac vest, triple-checking for hidden wounds, doing anything to keep yourself occupied while you stand this close to him in the wake of that remark. You’re engrossed in your work, in search of a distraction.

(He’s a distraction, isn’t he?)

And then your eyes stop in their scan. Right there: a small nick on the exposed sliver of skin between his glove and sleeve – open to the direct path of some wayward debris that happened to graze him. So tiny. You’ve seen paper cuts more harrowing than this – wouldn’t have even registered on your radar, especially if it’s being dwarfed by other critical wounds that hold decisive sway over somebody’s fate when it comes to your average life-or-death scenario.

Of course, you take your job very seriously.

You feign a sharp inhale. “Ah,” you say solemnly, guiding his arm up to your face for a closer look. “Found your problem.”

“I’ve got a problem,” he echoes, voice laced with amusement.

“See, you came to the right place. Anybody else would’ve missed it.”

“The verdict, then?”

“So terrible. Earth-shattering, in fact—”

Simon starts pulling away. “Alright, that’s enough of you takin’ the piss outta me,” he gripes.

You chase his arm to recapture it into your grasp. “Wait!” you say, huffing out a laugh. Your mouth sprouts into a wide grin that makes him roll his eyes.

“You gonna treat me or what?”

Your humor bubbles away as you come back to your senses. Those once-loud peals of laughter start to die down when you take his question into consideration. Because there’s really nothing for you to do; he doesn’t need you.

The realization is slow-moving. It washes over you, rolls like waves as you finally begin to sober up.

Simon wants to be here, and he’s looking for any excuse to stay. He just can’t find the courage to own up to it.

“I dunno. Might be unconventional,” you throw out casually, playing along. “Risky, maybe – never been done before.”

But he’s undeterred. “Sure. Whatever you gotta do.”

You pause for a beat, fingers still wrapped around his forearm because you haven’t managed to let go yet. His skin is warm under your palm. You’re not sure what exactly possesses you to do it – emboldened by his encouragement, given complete carte blanche; he’s leaving this to your discretion. So you press your lips to that area where the cut is, right over his pulse point. If you had lingered for longer, you probably would’ve been able to feel it thudding, that solid rhythm and easy strength reminding you he’s alive.

You expected him to withdraw his arm in bewilderment. He should’ve kicked up a fuss about you violating his boundaries, should’ve told you that you overstepped. Something, right?

But he doesn’t do any of that. Simon’s studying you. Dark pupils. So chasm-deep that the ground beneath your feet might slip away. Ocean trenches, midnight-black like the charcoal smudged around his eyes. When they land on you, his gaze goes molasses-soft. He’s fond; there’s little room for doubt. The way he looks at you says everything. None of that usual coldness he harbors during an op. Instead, relaxed and more human than you’re used to seeing – all of his attention focused solely on you.

“Where else, Simon?” you whisper.

He’s thinking – carefully weighing his options – the same expression that he gets when a crossroads lies ahead of him and he knows his make-it-or-break-it decision will invariably affect the outcome of a mission.

After several moments, his hand comes up. Simon’s fingers curl underneath the hem of his mask; he’s been wearing the fabric balaclava more often since you’ve fixed the stitching on it. Then he lifts – not the entire way. Just to reveal the bottom half of his face. There he is. Sandpaper-rough stubble. The sharp cut of his jaw. A mouth that you’re convinced wears a scowl 24/7 behind his mask but is now slightly twitched up.

Even though you’ve seen it before, the sight of him never fails to steal your breath away. Feels like meeting him for the first time again. With how rarely he does this, it might as well be – that slow, heart-melting sensation is steadily filling the cavern of your chest.

And you lean in. Your lips brush against his; it’s a chaste thing – the kiss – if it can be called that. Gentle. Like how you’d stitch up his wounds with a light touch and kind intent. He’s built of sterner stuff, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about him, it’s that he’s capable of breaking just as easily as everyone else. You always handle Simon with care: unequivocal compassion and empathy when there’s so little of those left on this side of war – privileges that he’s never taken for granted.

“Better?” you ask quietly, tipping your head in question.

Simon hums his approval – this pleased, low sound in his throat. His hand slides across your lower back. He tugs you towards him. “Wouldn’t mind some more attention,” he murmurs, before slotting his mouth over yours. And then he kisses you like it might heal him from the outside in.

[dreamertf]

Johnathan's mind couldn't clear up, the only thought in his head being a huge bodybuilder version of himself with a giant member. He knew he shouldn't have eaten that weed brownie his friend gave him but it was too late.

He closed his eyes as his breathing became heavy, feeling the giant bodybuilder version of himself thrust into him, spreading his fat flabby cheeks as his fat python slithered its way in.

With each thrust he could feel his own member harden more, lengthening to a point it never had before- not stopping when he thought it would.

Longer.

His mirror whispered in his ear, it was a deeper voice but it was still recognizable as him. He felt himself shiver as his ghost became more aggresive, his member reaching nearly ten inches long.

Stronger.

Facing his clone in bed, he couldnt help but moan as he felt himself balloon with muscle as his fat melted away. Giving way to a tight muscular frame, his abs chiseling themselves.

Taller.

His newly minted legs grew longer, his ghost still plowing him. It felt so incredibly good.

As his climaxed, so did he. Finishing touches made their way across his body as he expelled his old self from it. His face reconstructing to become much more handsome and his voice dropping a few octaves as the apparition faded into him. He took his large hands and caressed his new body as he fell alseep, clean up would have to wait til the morning.

[nanamis-bigtie]

more than friends

↬ megumi x afab!reader | lucid love ↬ lucid love masterlist // jjk masterlist // ao3 version

cw: smut, reader has a vagina (no excessive body descriptions), aged-up character, piv sex, creampie, friends to lovers, there was only one bed, mutual pinning, bottom reader, reader is a sorcerer summary: you've known megumi since you were kids, so the enforced stay in a single room with double futon doesn't seem much of a problem. however the proximity has exposed feelings that have been meticulously hidden for years word count: 2k a/n: higuruma was my favorite of the three options but i've enjoyed writing this so, so much. please forgive me those little painful details ^^" please, look out for next voting soon! we're finally leaving the vanilla sphere! tag list: @thesacredfanfics

Futon in your bedroom is spacious even for a double standard but you still somehow ended up squeezed on one—yours—side. Enveloped by the duvet from the top and him from what seems all sides at once, you arouse in seconds. It's too hot for your comfort but you know better than trying to sneak any part of your body outside; fall in the mountains put you through it already and it was still light when you reached the ryokan, at night it can be only colder and worse than any inconvenience and awkwardness crawling under your skin once you fully realize the situation you've fallen into.

Megumi sneaked himself close, his torso flush to your back, crevices of your bodies filling each other with embarrassing perfection. One arm thrown above your head, the other wrapped around your middle, fingers looking for warmth under the hem of your t-shirt, he's cradling his face into the nape of your neck. You can feel his hot breath under your ear, soft and barely audible but deep, filling his chest to the brim as it bears down on you with each draft.

He's not holding you tight but when, in initial shock, you try to shake him off, he clamps the grip until you stop squirming. You're allowed to breathe free again, but he throws one leg over yours for a good measure. You could turn around, you assume, but you're definitely not going anywhere without waking him up first.

"It's not a big deal," Megumi said himself a few hours earlier when the owner of the ryokan apologized in the politest words for the lack of free single rooms. It wasn't a spacious inn in the first place and now, with the main road destroyed by flash flooding, you weren't the only ones looking for last minute shelter.

You didn't protest, hungry, soaking wet and tired. It was a long day, already a pain in the ass before the rain had grown in intensity, as if gods decided to sink the cursed site you two had been called for. You crawled to the local hotel on your last legs, determined to stay in the worst conditions possible, as long as you were given a warm bath and a cup of hot tea.

It wasn't a big deal indeed. Megumi wasn't just a coworker, he was a friend you've known for years, even before you both entered high school. There was even time when he was considered a perfect candidate for your husband—a source of never-ending jokes and teasing from Gojo-sensei—but the project collapsed with the old system of great jujutsu families, and your strong yet relentlessly platonic relationship continued to bloom without the burden of tradition. The label of "lovebirds" clung to you for good, like a ghost of your late teacher cackling over your heads, survived even the graduation and intense focus on your careers for the few years to come. Now both first grades, you haven't been seeing each other much outside occasional contact at work, but nearly intimate closeness remained intact.

As if not a single second has been lost between you.

There was no trace of embarrassment as you shed your clothes to the more or less dry layer. Megumi didn't even blink when you asked him to dry your hair after a shower, your hands didn't budge when you were putting moisturizer on his facial scars as he was already drifting away while still sitting. You crawled on the futon at the same time, with a safe and respectful distance between you, and fell asleep in no time.

But now, a few hours later, a certain border has been crossed, leaving you nearly breathless in front of the horde of possibilities you've had no idea they're within your reach.

It's...somewhat terrifying how, once initial shock has faded, comfortable Megumi's arms feel around you. His touch is not alien to you, but he's never been one to relish in physical contact, yet with just a friend. It has no right to be so familiar and safe. It has no right to open your heart like a barely scabbed wound and soak you with yearning and hunger. You can't complain about lack of physical pleasure, you haven't tasted enough loneliness to be desperate for any kind of bodily warmth next to you. Yet, you're trembling, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, and when his hold loosens a little and he rolls to his back, painful spasm runs through you, almost dragging a sob out of you.

You follow his move, now embracing him yourself and nestling between his side and the arm that remained close to you. Megumi takes a deeper breath, immediately scoops you close and hums, as if with approval, when you slot your head on his chest. You can hear—feel—his heartbeat, calm and welcoming, so recognizable even if it's the first time you can witness it from so close.

Rains have ceased, almost full moon pours silver light through the uncovered windows. You can see every crevice of his appearance and the sight takes you a little aback. It's Megumi, without a doubt, but not until now you pondered how much he changed. How long has it been already? His face lost the last remains of androgynous subtlety, his cheeks covered by harsh two-day scruff and his worry lines much deeper when he frowns, your gentle touch ticklish. You trace every single one of them, trace the scars around his eye, trace his jaw, square and manly, dear gods, when has this boy, so pretty that the girls at school constantly bickered behind his back, turned into a man?

When all this time flew over your heads? Next year, the both of you will grow older than Gojo-sensei.

Only his eyelashes remained exactly the same, throwing shadows under his eyes and filling you with jealousy for their length and thickness. You can't help but brush them with a thumb, once, twice, until his eyelids crack open, and he looks straight at you.

"For how long will you keep fondling me?" Heavy with sleep, Megumi's voice is low and coarse, filling you with need both well-known and alien. You have never felt anything like that for him (well, have you really?), and there's a shadow of anxiety behind it—but you can't bring yourself to take your hands off him.

Silence between you is thick like tar but not uncomfortable, rather cautious as you both ponder over the next move, equally unwilling to part your ways. Megumi breaks first when his hand, rather accidentally, brushes yours after he's wiped sleepiness off his face, "Well, I haven't told you to stop."

Duvet falls off your shoulders as you climb his lap, straddling him comfortably and letting the moonlight soak your figure. Megumi inhales deep and sharp under you, his hands finding your hips in no time and nestling you right over the undeniably growing hardness in his boxers. You both ignore it for now, drunk with the sights alone, rediscovering each other from this new, the most intimate angle. He lets you slide his undershirt under his chin, groans deep and low when you squeeze his pecs, soft against your palms with their size. He's always been rather slim, but he's gained serious musculature over the years, still not the biggest guy you've seen around, but so different from Megumi that's somehow, despite everything, stuck in your head for years.

You find more and more distinctions as you explore him further south. Soft hair grazes your skin especially down his navel, a trail leading you to the edge of his boxers and prompting you to peel them away. He mewls, relieved, when you do so, his erection springing free. It fits in your hand just right, leaking for you even before you give him a proper stroke. He must have been humping against you in sleep, his bulge a detail you've missed in the haze of different feelings and sensations, and he's enjoying the sweet relief now, his chest and abs twitching for you in pleasure.

The first itching wave washes over you too and you reach between your legs just to find your underwear to be soaked. You're ready so easily and fast it's almost embarrassing, especially under the weight of his gaze, attentive despite sleepiness lingering in its corners, fixed on thin threads of your arousal glistening between your fingers in the silver light.

"Come here," he mutters, nails sinking in the softness of your ass as he desperately tries to close the last inches of distance between you two.

You follow eagerly, biting on a moan as if your dignity depended on it when his tip slides between your folds. You haven't prepared yourself thoroughly but from what you felt in your hand you assess he shouldn't be a problem. 

You impale yourself in one, smooth move, both of you groaning in pleasure and release, finally sating the hunger neither of you knew it's lingering in you.

Megumi lets go of your hips to lift himself to sitting, wraps arms around your back and pulls you into him so suddenly it yanks air out of your lungs. You return the proximity with your legs around him, ankles crossed behind him to sway yourself steady. The rhythm is lazy, as deep as slow, barely earning some friction for the both of you. Sometimes, his hips thrust up, grazing your core just right and having you mewl in pleasure; every time he hushes you up with slow kisses peppered down your jaw and neck.

His hair is as soft as you remember but his scent is sharper, so manly and mixed with the complimentary shower gel from the ryokan's bathroom. Young Megumi always smelled black coffee to you for some reason and there's still a tinge of it lingering at the back of each breath you take off him. Face hidden against his neck, you soak yourself in nostalgia and novelty alike, surrendering to his touch, greedily wandering along your body. He doesn't spare an inch of it, catching up for years of self-imposed neglect, at times even rough, when he can't stop himself and steals another thrust deep into you, his manly, deep voice breaking when you clench around him.

"I'm gonna cum if you keep doing this," he reminds you of no barrier of protection between you—but you don't care and don't want to think of separating from him for even a second. You've waited for this for too long, it feels so good to finally find a place in his arms, a place that has waited for you since the first time your eyes met with a different intention than a mere look.

You want him to fill you up, you want to feel everything so deep, almost reaching your cervix, and you don't stop even after you reach your peak first, swaying your hips with the same eagerness even if your strength starts to fade away.

Megumi holds you close through it, his arms around you so strong and tight you feel his touch deep in your bones, and finally gives in to pleasure too, fulfilling your untold wish to the last drop.

Your moves slow down and cease naturally, you catch your breaths, snuggled into each other. Megumi's shoulders shake, be it pleasure or tears, and his hands slowly slip down your sweaty back, until he finds your hips—and suddenly sways forward, until you're flat on the futon again, your legs over you, embracing his middle when he finds a new comfortable spot, deep inside and right on top of you.

"More." His voice breaks into begging and he starts to thrust into you without waiting for your answer, with the power of the whole weight his body offers. "Don't let go. Please. I need you more."

"I'm not letting you go," you promise—and you keep it, through this round, and for a few next to come, until the sun replaces the moon and finds your naked, sweaty bodies, entangled with each other in the middle of the only futon left in the last free ryokan in those mountains.

[smokesandsonatas]

Broke mc and the rich night raven college bois! Would they spoil the mc or would they let mc struggle, delighted in doing so 👀

+++ After a long time, I'm finally starting to answer requests. I tend to combine similar asks, I hope people don't mind.

OnlyCams (Twst version of OnlyFans) Reader x All NRC students and Rollo. Reader is implied to be female. Mentions of cleavage, lingerie, and implied sugar daddy stuff. Slightly NSFW. +++

Update: Part II

Your current financial situation, compounded by the need to eat proper meals, pushed you to find a side job. Crowley had cut your budget by more than half, citing Grim's damages—an accusation your companion vehemently denies—as the reason you're struggling to eat properly. It has reached the point where you only eat once a day to quickly pay off Grim's fees to the school. Your pride is too great to ask for help, and besides, you don’t consider them ‘close friends’—acquaintances from another world might be a more accurate term. You’re not particularly close to any of the boys, or rather, your schoolmates. They are just that: schoolmates.

You tried applying at Mostro Lounge but left quickly after your gut told you to. In a foreign world where monsters, beasts, mermen, and magic are the norm, your instincts are your only trusted guide.

The rules of this world shouldn’t and wouldn’t apply to you the same way, right? Whatever society imposes on them is not applicable to you. In your world, this type of job is common, though frowned upon, but it pays well.

You refuse to eat cobwebs from the dusty ceiling of the ramshackle dorm.

In your mind, you plead for privacy as you smile at the ghosts, asking them not to bother you while you rest—just as Grim has been doing for the past two hours. Fortunately, the ghosts heed your request.

You let out a soft hum as you change into a flimsy outfit: a cute two-piece lingerie with bows in the middle, and bat earrings from one of your highest-tier subscribers. While you only show skin rather than specific body parts, your effort in producing high-quality content led to you being featured as one of the emerging models more than two weeks ago. Now, you are close to paying off Grim's full debt, and you have saved enough to afford full meals twice a day with snacks in between. As a result, Grim is much more obedient, promising to be careful as long as you continue to feed him, of course.

You have a keen eye for beauty, after all.

You count silently as you pose for the camera—an alluring sight, sensual in your pose, a work of art in every sense.

3...2...1

Snap!

+++++

He first heard the rumors from the members of the Heartslabyul dorm. As the dorm leader, Riddle is keen to know what currently preoccupies the thoughts of his card soldiers. That’s how Riddle found you—by threatening to cut off the head of one of the freshmen, who nearly pissed himself as Riddle stood seething. That incident occurred a week ago. Riddle is never one to indulge in such perverse photos, despite what his highest-tier subscription might suggest. No, he is a gentleman after all. His favorite photo is the one where you’re wearing a red silk robe that clings to your figure, with a book pressed between your two mounds. He may or may not have specifically requested that photo, and he paid you generously for your work.

Of course, he knows you have one! Cater is the self-proclaimed king of Magicam and social media, after all. The OnlyCams platform is an emerging phenomenon that has taken Magicam by storm. You just happened to get on it at the right time, and Cater couldn’t help but respect the hustle. You’re now an emerging content creator, and his favorite photos of you are saved on his phone—essentially everything. Oh, what’s that? He can’t do it because it’s prohibited? Of course, Cater can! He has been your faithful subscriber from day one.

Oh sevens, when Trey saw your sweet bakery-themed photos he will not deny that he relieved himself more than once. You keep on releasing new mouth-salivating content every other day but that still stands as his favourite. He especially loved the one where you put whipped cream to cover your nipples. What? Trey is a man and therefore susceptible to temptation.

He will never tell you that he knows, but he has been there since your first post. Ace had been a loyal supporter even from the start, he even took it upon himself to try a few gigs to support you, you know? That's what friends do right? Just don't blame Ace when he uses your pictures to masturbate as he takes his baths.

Deuce cannot believe it, but he cannot take his eyes off it either. Deuce also knows but respects you enough to not bring it up. Why didn't you told him you have perfect thighs? He is pouty but as he works his hands below his pants he cannot help but bite his lower lip. This is the third time he masturbated on your picture. His favorite? A picture of you laying down as you wink cheekily in a 'Japanese' uniform, the short skirt hiked over your thighs. The caption says it reminds you of your place back home, Deuce briefly wonders if you would let him visit to see that uniform personally on you.

....

Leona doesn't give a fuck, his thick cock out as he works his hands up and down his shaft lazily in his bedroom. You've been a very cheeky herbivore. Ha! Leona didn't realize how much of an ass beastman he is not until he raised an eyebrow as he smirked when he realized all his favorites are the ones where it focuses on your ass. He likes it when you squeeze them. Leona wonders if he should send you a message for a special offer, the price won't matter to him. What? Breeding season will come soon for the beastman, he will have no other partner than you.

He admires your skills to hustle, Ruggie could not help but sneakily have his account opened through Leona's bank, it's not like the rich prince will notice it billing him anyway. Once he opens your highest-tier content, Ruggie now understands why. You're a complete pro at this! He is not sure if this is your previous job in your world or if this is your first time doing it at all, but those thoughts have escaped him when he fucks himself into his hand in the picture of you spreading your ass cheeks.

Jack had heard about the site from the other track team members, out of curiosity, he opened an account and was surprised when he got your account in his recommendation. He will support you of course! That's what friends do! He will try to contain himself when he unlocks your content of you wearing skimpy track shorts but it's impossible as he felt himself tightening through his pajamas.

...

Azul had never heard of this website before, but dear sevens! The possibilities are endless. Pleasure work is not unheard of in the Coral Sea, but he now knows they do it differently on land. It's called porn, as far as he remembers when he picked up the word from one of the guidebooks in the Sage Island. When he realizes at first glance that you will be one of its top creators—the money will come pouring right in! Azul chuckles to himself, restraining his excitement as he bites his lower lip while staring at your latest update. The thought of being your manager crosses his mind as he gazes at your picture of spreading your legs open, the flimsy thong left so little to the imagination. Will you let him manage you? Will you allow him to experience what he sees? Perhaps you’ll seek out a partner for a collaboration, and Azul will be eager to present himself. Of course, he will refrain from showing his face—he still has a reputation to uphold—but he cannot deny that you are his guilty pleasure in this realm.

Floyd is addicted to your content! How dare Shrimpy make him so excited every day? For almost two weeks now, Floyd has been happily completing tasks assigned to him at the Mostro Lounge. Sure, he pockets some tips for himself, but fear not! Floyd thinks he deserves it. Besides, they ought to reward him for his extra hard work. Floyd giggles when he sees a notification that you've posted a new update. One of these days, he will come to see you personally—only if Jade isn’t holding him back. After all, if left unchecked, Floyd just might take you deep into the coral sea.

Jade, on the other hand, is constantly watching you—or so you thought. At lunch, in the hallway, even in the library when you’re trying to study with Grim. You can feel his eyes piercing through your soul, but for some reason, you can never quite meet his gaze. Or maybe, you’re trying to catch him staring at you just to justify your suspicions, but when you look, he’s not. Unbeknownst to you, Jade is just as giddy as his twin brother. Don’t blame him! He adores the picture where you’re actually wearing the seashell necklace he sent through your fanmail. Oh, but wait—one moment it dawns on him that others, who pay to see your pictures, will also see that picture. Hmm… that doesn’t sit right with the eel. Jade wonders if he can offer you something more. Of course, he can! The only problem is... will you accept Jade Leech's offer? Hmm…

...

Jamil heard from Kalim that you have a business they need to support, Jamil didn't even complain when all Kalim sent was a link. He was hooked since then. He is a silent supporter but will be one of the first to view and like your posts. You wore red lingerie once, and Jamil can't even stop himself from coming from that. A good stress reliever after a tiring day's work. The veins in his hands practically popping, as he grip his cock, imagining you in front of him instead.

Kalim will support you of course! Although he is quite confused why you won't accept the money he's sending you. It's just a half a million madol. It's not a dowry!... At least not close to the actual amount he will give you anyway. He will support you! He even told Jamil about you! Doesn't he get jealous? A little.. but the feeling of an overwhelming bragging right that other people thirst over you makes Kalim so proud. He chose a good future wife after all!

...

To Vil, your content is vile... but undeniably a work of art. Hmph, no wonder you're one of its top creators. You don't merely post for lust; you post for aesthetics as well. You have a keen eye for taking good photos, that much he will admit. His subscription to you he considers a form of appreciation for beauty. He notes the way you do your makeup, the arch of your back, the way your lipstick complements your complexion... Fine, Vil will hate to admit it, but your content is something he looks forward to seeing as he relaxes after a hectic day—just him alone in a fancy room with a spa-like scent filling the air. Hmmm, he wonders if he should invite you someday to a hotel soirée with him. Vil appreciates the attention to detail in your work, and he finds himself compelled to support you further. Occasionally, he sends additional tips usually a thousand madol—small tokens of his admiration for your craftsmanship. He justifies it as an investment in art, a reward for the way you meticulously craft each image and video. After all, beauty like yours deserves to be recognized, encouraged even.

He will always blush when he's near you! Epel can't help it. He may or may not have teenage fantasies about you with him carrying you bridal style as his muscles bulge from his shirt. Although Epel came from a... Traditional family perse, he does appreciate how... sexy you look! His favorite is when you're wearing silk nightwear that delves low on your cleavage.

Ah, Rook. Forever the hunter of beauty. When he heard of your content, he immediately subscribed to the highest tier! He is now only waiting for you to accept personal requests because Rook definitely has a lot of ideas in his mind. It involves you and him, in a forest, being one with yourselves and with nature! Oui! He chuckles as he palms his crotch through his pants. Rook knows that you will post something new in a few minutes, and he is right! Oh, mi amor, Rook swooned as he saw your bat earrings from the new update and the matching pink bows lingerie. The lingerie he ordered is yet to be sent to you! But they're on their way. Will you be mad at Rook if he sends an arrow with a declaration of admiration through your window right after he pleasures himself? Rook hopes you will know how much the hunter loves and appreciates your beauty!

....

Idia may or may not be one of the software developers behind OnlyCams. He was absolutely stunned when he saw that you joined the site! His hair burned a hot red with pink tips as he scrolled through your draft photos. It gives him a twisted sense of satisfaction to know about posts that others haven’t seen yet. Is it illegal to pry... or, erm, stalk the OnlyCams models? Of course, he knows that. But Idia has convinced himself that he should act as your moderator anyway—even without you knowing. Unfortunately, there are a lot of comments and private messages that are downright disgusting to read, so Idia takes it upon himself to remove them for you! The maid outfit and cat ears he sent through your fanmail should arrive in just a few days. Idia can’t wait to see you in them! He imagines how perfect you’ll look, and his mind races with ideas for what else he could send your way. Maybe a little something extra, just to make sure you know how much he’s been thinking about you.

...

At first, Malleus does not know what to feel. Initially, there is confusion—are you whoring yourself out? But Lilia explains that people can only look at you, not physically touch you. However, when it dawns on Malleus that others can see your intimate, seductive photos, flames flicker along his fangs. He carries the pride of a king, and it does not sit well with him that others can see what he considers his. Still, Malleus can't help but growl. Your pictures should have been for his eyes only. He frowns, deciding that even Lilia should not see them. You don’t know this, but you’re already his. In his mind, you belong to him. Annoyance courses through his veins—this is the second time he’s broken a phone today. As night falls, Malleus finds himself brooding in the solitude of his tower. The thought of you, your image laid bare for others, festers in his mind. He clenches his fist, struggling with a mix of possessiveness and anger. Lilia suggested he could unsubscribe from you, but Malleus ignores him. Instead, he contemplates offering you wealth and power—if you choose to be by his side, of course. As if you have a choice anyway.

Sebek is embarrassed, yet hypocritical, as he can't help but masturbate to your seductive content. Part of him hates it, but the other part loves it. How dare you, human! He huffs as he angrily shuts off his phone, only to turn it back on moments later, unable to resist the allure of your pictures. On one hand, he feels disgusted with himself for succumbing to such base desires—he is a proud servant of Malleus, and he should not be indulging in such... human weakness. It's an insult to his Fae heritage! But on the other hand, he is irresistibly drawn to you, his body betraying his thoughts every time he sees your updates. The internal battle rages on, but he knows deep down that he’s hooked.

Lilia hums to himself, elated as he chuckles upon seeing your new update. Lilia has had his fair share of intimacy throughout the hundreds of years he's been alive. The concept of seduction as a barter is nothing new to him. But! Lilia can’t help but admire the way the new generation goes about it nowadays! Back in his time, Lilia had to travel to a brothel for such experiences. Now, he can just use his phone from anywhere. Yet, a small part of him is disappointed that you’re not physically present. He grins, his fangs poking out as he sees you wearing the bat earrings he sent you. Ah, they suit you so well!

Silver is ever the gentleman, probably the only one in Diasomnia—the whole NRC, who can separate the ordinary You and the OnlyCam's You. You never told him but you appreciate his approach a lot. He is subscribed to your highest tier and he always gives you tips that he got from his allowance and payment as Malleus' guard. Silver’s support goes beyond mere admiration. He views your content with a sense of quiet respect, understanding that there’s more to it than just the seduction part you're selling. For him, it's about the effort, the confidence, and the creativity you put into your work. Despite the nature of your content, Silver’s feelings remain pure. He never asks for anything in return for his support, never expects special treatment. When he leaves a tip, it’s with the hope that it might make your day a little brighter, that it might help you feel appreciated in a world you're alienated to. He is a knight, well suited to protect you should you ask him to.

....

Rollo feels as though he's sinning every time he opens your OnlyCams account—blasphemous content! His heart pounds with guilt and shame as he scrolls through your seductive photos, each one a temptation pulling him deeper into the abyss. He knows this is wrong—so wrong—yet he cannot tear himself away. The purity and righteousness he prides himself on crumble under the weight of his desire for you. He mentally recites prayers, trying to cleanse himself of the impure thoughts that flood his mind, but it’s futile. The more he resists, the stronger the urge becomes. Despite the shame that burns his conscience, Rollo keeps coming back for more, drawn to the very thing he despises. Trapped in a cycle of sin and repentance, he battles with his inner demons, torn between his devotion to his beliefs and his growing obsession with you.

[inkspiredwriting]

Goodbye Five

A/N: I'll be honest with you when I wrote this, I cried. I had to watch that horrible five and lila scene again because I wanted the exact wording. My heart is still bleeding and I don't know if I'll take a break soon. I still feel pretty sick when I think about the whole Lila and five thing.

Warnings: spoilers for season 4 episode 5

Y/N stood alone in the dimly lit subway station, her breath coming out in shallow, shaky gasps. The briefcase in her hand hummed softly, its temporal energy pulsating beneath her fingers. She had used it to escape the chaos of her own timeline, seeking refuge in another. But as she looked around, she realized that she had arrived in a place she never expected—a timeline where the love of her life, Five, was not hers.

She knew she had to stay hidden. The risks of revealing herself were too great, both for her and for this version of Five. So, she kept to the shadows, slipping through the timeline like a ghost. She watched from afar, her heart breaking with every passing moment.

It didn’t take long for Y/N to realize that in this timeline, Five had found someone else. And that someone else was Lila.

The first time she saw them together, her heart nearly stopped. She had been walking through a House, drawn by the sound of laughter. It was a sound she knew well, a sound that had once been the music of her life. But as she peered through the foliage, she saw that it was not her laughter mingling with Five’s—it was Lila’s.

They were in a greenhouse, surrounded by lush greenery and the sweet scent of strawberries. Five was standing by a patch of plants, carefully watering the fruits, while Lila stood opposite him, a mischievous smile on her face. Y/N’s heart ached as she watched Lila pluck a strawberry from the vine and toss it at Five, who observed it with a grin.

“If you keep this up, we’re not gonna have strawberries when the snow comes.” Five said, his voice teasing as he gently tossed the strawberry back at Lila.

She felt the breath leave her lungs as she watched Lila stumbled and Five caught her. Five’s eyes softened as he watched her, a look of affection that Y/N knew all too well. It was the look he used to give her, in another time, another life.

Y/N pressed a hand to her mouth, stifling a sob as she continued to watch the scene unfold. it was all too much. She wanted to turn away, to flee from the pain that was tearing her apart, but she couldn’t. She was rooted to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the man she loved and the woman who had taken her place.

The strawberries were forgotten as Five stepped closer to Lila, his hands reaching out to cup her face. Y/N’s heart shattered as she saw the way Lila leaned into his touch as they kissed, her eyes closing as if savoring the moment.

“Don’t.” Lila whispered, her voice soft and full of emotion.

“Don’t what?” Five replied, his voice equally tender.

“Be weird.” Lila's voice was soft as she looked into Five's eyes.

“Was that weird?” Five’s voice thick with emotion.

“No, which is what makes it weird.” Lila replied,

And then, as if to seal their words, they kissed again. It was a kiss filled with love, with the kind of love that Y/N had once known, but now felt slipping away from her grasp. She watched them, her vision blurring as tears filled her eyes.

When they finally broke apart, Five rested his forehead against Lila’s, a contented smile on his face. and Lila smiled back at him, her eyes shining with love.

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. She turned and fled, her feet carrying her as far away from the greenhouse as possible. She didn’t stop until she reached a secluded spot at the edge of the House, where she collapsed onto the ground, her body wracked with sobs.

The pain was unbearable. It wasn’t just the sight of Five with another woman—it was the knowledge that in this timeline, she didn’t exist for him. She was a stranger, a ghost from another life. And he had moved on. He had found love, and happiness, with someone else.

Y/N curled up on the ground, her tears soaking into the earth. The briefcase lay beside her, a cold reminder of the choices that had led her here. She had never imagined that she would end up like this—stranded in a timeline where the man she loved was lost to her forever.

As the night wore on, Y/N’s sobs slowly subsided, leaving her feeling empty and hollow. She stared up at the ceiling, her heart aching with a pain that seemed to have no end. She had thought she could handle anything, that she was strong enough to face whatever life threw at her. But this—this was too much.

She didn’t know how long she sat there, lost in her grief. But eventually, the reality of her situation began to sink in. She was alone in a timeline that wasn’t hers, with a man who didn't even know she existed. And even if she could go back, what would be waiting for her there? A world where Five didn’t love her? Where he was in love with Lila?

Y/N wiped her tears, trying to summon some semblance of strength. She knew she couldn’t stay here, wallowing in her sorrow. She had to find a way back to her timeline, to accept that this timeline was not hers to change. This Five had found happiness, and she had to find her five again, the five who loved her.

With a heavy heart, Y/N picked up the briefcase and activated it. As the familiar hum of temporal energy surrounded her, she cast one last look behind her. The memory of Five and Lila, laughing and kissing in the greenhouse, would haunt her forever.

“Goodbye Five.” Y/N said, a tear slipping down her cheek

And then, with a flash of light, she was gone, leaving behind a timeline where the man she loved was lost to her.

[screampied]

Hiiii, first time asking for smth omfg 😨

Anw pookie, would u do a part 2 of the jealous Toji Drabble?? 🤭🤭

Love u, happy new years bbg 😻

☆ : ex bf! toji x fem!reader

⤷ tags: part one, jealous toji, makeup sex, praise, dirty talk, unprotected sex, size kink, wc.

an. LOVE U 2 ! HAPPY NEW YEARS <3

the dumb cocky grin that went across his lips once he heard you and your boyfriend broke up. just the thought of you, invoking yourself with toji he had to admit, he found it somewhat amusing.

and who did you always come crawling back to…

toji.

he figured, the moment he sees you at his doorstep, not even knocking using the old key you made your way inside, and the cute look on your face.

all heartbroken…almost as if your eyes were saying, ‘you were right.’ of course you’d never say that to someone as arrogant and witty as toji. he’d laugh in your face straight up.

you still can’t seem to fathom how you went from rambling to toji about your messy breakup, him doing his own version of consoling you….to you being right on all fours.

“easy girl. easy now,” he grunts, and it only took a few deep strokes for you to whine out a moan, effortlessly having your back arch against him and he groans from the way his base smacks against you. it thwacks roughly, his balls lightly sting against your skin and you furrowed your eyebrows in frustration on how good it felt. “i told you you’d be comin’ back.”

“f—fuck, toji….” you’d choke out, split knuckles rubbing against your mouth the more he rammed his hips against you. you gasp once you feel him deepen the angle, the thrusts, and he does that thing you always love.

fuck you with the back of his foot pushed up against your neck, pinning you all the way down against the pillow with just enough pressure. the softness of his sock ghosts against your neck and you’re quite dumb at this point—he snaps you out of your lewd cock drunken trance with an ass spank before groaning.

“wanna hear you say how much you missed me,” he mutters in a pure rasp, watching your body spring and jostle from underneath him. “coz y’er pussy’s just ratting you out, doll.”

“didn’t miss you,” you’d whimper out, panting and panting…..heaving, the way he’d roughly maneuver against your hips, his swollen tip just prodding and tapping against your most tender bits had your toes curling and you’re nearly shaking, “jus’ wanted to fuck.”

“girl—,” he scoffs, a hint of sass in his tone, and he suddenly stops mid-thrust, you really hated whenever he’d do that. edge you. especially if you were coming close. he lowly chuckles at your reaction. your body’s initial response, your legs spasm and your poor cunt hugs and clenches around nothing once he pulls out. “tch. say that again?”

you grow quiet and he clicks his tongue, swiping his fat tip up and down against your slit, a thumb of his running against your entrance. “you really don’t miss me, baby?”

“fuck you,” you’d moan, and he removes the slight pressure of his poor against your neck to bring a hand against it instead. “you’re so—”

“doll, you sure do talk a lot of shit for someone who doesn’t even know how to make herself cum,” toji snickers, and that shuts you up instantly. you hated his smart witty responses, and you hated even more how you’d always have nothing to reply with. just sheer silence and a stupid moan of pleasure. “exactly, nothin’ to say because y’know ‘m always right, princess.”

he was infuriating—yet all those feelings disappeared towards him whenever he was deep inside you, churning your insides without a single care in the world.

“oh, oh….you want me to finish?” he chuckles, a piercing smirk struggles against his lips the minute he sees your needy body twitch, your head faces down against the pillow and you’re just soaked. panties lazily pulled towards the side, and the way toji just abruptly pulled out made you whine.

“y-yes.” you frowned.

“but you just said that-”

“i know what i fucking said.” you muttered, and he takes pride in seeing how frustrated he made you, toji found it somewhat endearing—how needy you grew out to be all from how he’s neglecting your sweet cunt.

toji sneers, smacking your ass before rubbing the head of his cock against your slit, watching the way it opens up—desperately trying to swallow his tip but he continues to pull back, hearing you whine and spit out cacophonies of “p-please,” and “fuckin' asshole.”

“i’ll finish if you tell me in that sweet voice how much you missed me, baby.”

a sigh left your lips, and he smiles. you and him both knew in reality, you did miss toji. more than just his touch, it was more—and believe it or not, he was a good boyfriend. you still couldn’t believe the amount of voicemails he spammed you, his voice. down-talking your ex, saying how much better he is and how you probably fake your orgasms with him.

he didn’t lie.

he couldn’t please you in the ways toji could. toji knew and memorized every inch of your body, he knows what gets you off and makes you pulse. it’s just his nature.

“f-fine,” you grumbled, and he lightly flips you over, getting a good look at you, and he looked so smug and cocky. toji gives you a brief head tilt and eyebrow raise expression, basically saying for you to finish talking. “i missed you. you were right.”

“oh yeah?” he hums, leaning in to plant a kiss near the side of your mouth, he realigns himself and you brace yourself. running your nails down his back, his back that was already painted and carved with scratch marks of the tips of your nails. “feed my ego more,” and he kisses near your nose, then your cheek. “did you think about me whenever he fucked you, baby?”

“can you be serious..” you moaned, feeling his tip throb against you. he was still hard, toji grabs ahold on your leg and spreads the both of them a bit before he starts going inside again, slow to where you can feel each thick inch.

he guffaws lowly. “geez. can’t have no fun with you. was just curious,” and he’s all the way in after a few seconds — you gasp at the sudden stretch, gripping onto the backs of his shoulders and toji leans in to give you a deep kiss. you melted into his kiss, your legs go around his waist and you’re so dizzy, toji’s body rocks against you to where your legs feel nearly asleep. “but i missed you more.”

and he ends up making you cum more times than your ex could in a few minutes. toji grins at seeing you all dumb and drunk from his dick, plain stupid.

“your taste in men….is not good, you know…?” he hums, and you’re just barely being suffocated, squeezed against his chest — and he’s holding you, your arms were wrapped around his waist with a soft pout being smushed against his torso.

“…shut up and hold me.”

“yes ma’am.”

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Fucking hell Nightbringer really gave me everything huh god

Henry 1.0 origin story

Cerberus origin story

Satan's cat thing origin story

"Goldie in Freezer" origin story

Levi's Ruri-chan obsession origin story

Mammon being scared of ghosts/horror origin story

More in depth version of Solomon & Asmo's first meeting/pact origin story

A painful reason for why Asmo's room looks like that

What the tsl characters would have been like irl (the absolute worst wtf simeon)

Mammon's issues finally discussed in depth

Mammon being extremely ride or die for Lucifer

Almost instant Mammon & MC friendship

Mammon being just so amazed by MC and also insanely supportive of them

Mammon being willing to do anything for his brothers, being more sure of himself, almost instantly following Lucifer's orders and making the others do so as well

Levi's issues discussed in depth.

Levi straight up saying he was depressed and still is

Levi's friendship with MC!

Levi & Lucifer's relationship!!!!!

Levi being shy and scared and just so 😖

Things being bad in the Celestial Realm even before they left

Asmo's issues being discussed in depth

Asmo very explicitly having body dysmorphia

The brothers being much more supportive and loving of each other

Lucifer being visibly scared of losing another family member and being insanely overprotective because of it

The brothers being slowly overtaken by their sins (something that was always a part of them but also something they could control as angels) and losing control of themselves

The brothers gaining new magic

Satan being a fucking mess

Satan not really fitting in and all of them being really awkward around him

Satan's issues being discussed in depth

Belphie's issues being discussed in depth

Belphie expressing passive suicidal ideation

Belphie talking about how he needs someone to blame for what happened to Lilith so he can process it/make sense of it even if that someone is himself

Lucifer's issues being touched on from from different perspectives/angles

Diavolo's issues being hinted at

Simeon's issues being vaguely discussed

More about Lilith! (remember my post about how lilith definitely wasn't a sweet little angel because there's no way the universe would let lucifer catch a break? I was right!!! She was as much a little shit as the rest of her family!)

More about the demon king! (He wanted to stop the war too🥺 also a whole line of previous demon kings!)

More about god/how angels work (all angels are brothers & sisters but not technically family the way lucifer & his siblings are!)

ADAM!?!?!?!?!?

Solomon & MC's Sorcerer & Apprentice relationship seen in full detail!

MC being absolutely amazing

MC being competent and powerful and dangerous and resourceful and confident and the brothers realising all that but them also being funny and snarky and chaotic and outgoing and homesick and caring

References to present (s1-s4) brothers (& how they'll tear solomon apart if he doesn't bring MC back)

NIGHTBRINGER!? BARBATOS!!!??? but past barbatos doesn't seem to know anything about MC and present barbatos is helping solomon bring MC back....so who...?

References to Noble demons and conservative demons and devildom politics

Angel - Demon prejudice /racism from both sides explicitly shown

The brothers being war criminals and how the devildom sheltering them nearly re-started the war between the two realms

None of them being able to identify MC as a human (it takes Diavolo a long time + Lucifer straight up denies it when MC tells him), Adam & Nightbringer saying MC has the "power of angels", MC's favourite manga being one where the youngest child out of 7 is described as being angelic (*cough*lilith*cough*), Diavolo, even after knowing MC is a human, going "what are you"..... me softly chanting: nephilim!mc nephilim!mc nephilim!mc

The lessons flow better? It doesn't feel like one arc is squished into two lessons and then you must immediately jump into another different arc. It feels like it's all just happening in a connected sequence?

Better pacing in my opinion. It doesn't feel rushed.... like the part where satan discovers cats and then later is seen still sitting next to the cat and watching it? It feels appropriately spaced out

MC's relationships with everyone doesn't feel isolated. Like earlier there'd be a lesson or two dedicated to one character and we won't see much of the other characters during it. Now it feels like everyone is there interacting with everything in a normal, natural way. Yes there are lessons dedicated to getting to know one brother but the others are there, interacting with each other and MC during that time as well

The emotions & relationships are discussed/written in a way that feels very real and believable that it becomes actually really moving (s1-s4 also did this well but in nightbringer because of arcs/scenes/relationships not being isolated, of things flowing better and having a better pacing, of them outright discussing their issues it has a greater impact - yes I cried more than once shut up)

In the end, Nighbringer is darker than og OM! but not in the "grrr gonna kill you" way. It's "darker" because they address more serious topics in depth