#especially when I have lovely anons bringing them to me!

[rhiannonsknife]

ok ok i will be the one to break the rhiannon/jackie streak, do u have any shauna gf hcs? whether it be pre-crash, during the wilderness, adult shauna?

── .✦ DATING SHAUNA SHIPMAN

— summary: dating shauna shipman pre-crash hcs

— warnings: established, secret relationship. gn!reader. fluff. angsty ending (couldn’t help myself).

— a/n: bless you anon!! my first ever shauna request, we’re breaking the jackie/rhiannon spell!

shauna who always passes you secret notes in class!

you and shauna both pass notes back and forth in class, a quiet, sweet ritual that she never skips, no matter how many times you’ve seen each other that day. sometimes they’re little doodles, other times they’re more vulnerable glimpses of her thoughts and pieces of herself she can’t say out loud. she always finds it easier to write her emotions down, rather than talking about them. you’ve obviously seen the journal she keeps and you know that she will scribble her thoughts down whenever she’s got the chance, whether it’s something insignificant or something that genuinely upsets her. shauna passes you notes in class, talking all about how pretty she thinks you are, and then blushes furiously when you bring it up afterward.

shauna who offers to help you study, but ends up being the biggest distraction

study sessions at the library or one of your bedrooms start off focused, but usually end up with her leaning against you, talking about everything but the assignment. she knows the subject (because, of course, she does) and you -unfortunately- don’t care enough about it to prioritize it over a good conversation with your girlfriend and some quality time. the consequences only catch up with you when exam season is right around the corner, and you spent all your time cuddling in bed or talking about anything but school. then, she really helps you with your schoolwork, staying up late to tutor you and keep you company. “you do the same for me,” she’ll shrug. you would, but you both know damn well you couldn’t if you wanted to.

shauna who secretly loves to show off at soccer practice or an important match.

she’d never admit it but she loves it when you come to practice with her after class, watching her and the other girls from the bleachers. she is obviously focused on the field, yet she always manages to sneak glances your way when she thinks no one’s looking. after a big win, she’ll always run up to you first because she knows you’ll be there, by the sidelines, cheering her and the team on! shauna will ignore the other celebrations, just searching for you to share the victory. a quick, deep hug or a soft kiss behind the bleachers means more to her than the game itself.

shauna who always makes up for having to hide your relationship.

being from a small town with prying eyes, you often have to keep things as lowkey as possible in public, but she makes up for it by being extra affectionate in private. she’ll tuck her head into the crook of your neck, or reach for your hand, as if holding onto you makes her feel more like herself. i think she’s a lot more into physical touch than one would expect, especially when it’s just the two of you together! when you have the rare chance to spend a quiet morning together, she’s extra gentle, lacing her fingers with yours and resting her head on your shoulder. <33

shauna, who shares her plans of a future with no one but you.

not even jackie knows that she’s planning on leaving as soon as anyhow possible. no one but you does. she dreams of getting out of town, and sometimes the two of you will sit in her car, talking for hours about the life you’d build together somewhere far away. especially as graduation gets closer, shauna becomes increasingly restless and quiet whenever the future comes up. one night, she confesses, “everyone keeps talking about college, moving away, and all that, but i just…i don’t know if i’m ready to let go.” she’d look at you, her voice a little shaky. “i mean, what if…what if we don’t see each other as much? what if everything changes?” you’d reassure her: you definitely won’t be the reason she doesn’t get to achieve her dreams.

shauna, who lets you borrow her clothes!!

she loves when you’re stealing your clothes: hoodies, t-shirts, anything you can ‘sneak’ away with. you always return them with the scent of your perfume on them, which might be the reason why shauna likes it so much! also: the first time she sees you wearing her soccer jersey, with her name and number on your back, she is WEAK! she loves lending you her jacket, the kind she’d say she “doesn’t even like” (she wears it all the time) but she’d smile seeing you wearing it, adding quietly, “looks better on you, anyway”

shauna, whose room is dedicated to all the memories you’ve made together.

her walls her plastered with pictures of the two of you and she keeps a small stash of polaroids hidden in one of her drawers: moments she’s captured that no one else knows about. sometimes she’ll get them out and look through them at night, feeling a rare warmth in knowing she has these tiny pieces of happiness all to herself <3

shauna, who calls you at the absolute crack of dawn.

she loves to call you late at night, talking about everything and nothing. her voice gets quieter as she says, “i just like knowing you’re there, you know?” shauna sometimes goes on about jackie, too, mostly because they’re so close and she’s frustrated that her best friend seems to have everything figured out. you’re the only one who knows that her feelings for jackie are complicated -to say the least- and layered, and you do your best to reassure her without jealousy, knowing she chose you for a reason. other times, she’ll literally fall asleep over the phone and you’ll be there to hear the way her breathing grows softer until, eventually, she’s snoring through the receiver.

shauna who is lowkey secretly affectionate!!

she acts so composed around her friends, but in private, shauna’s all about hand holding and little forehead kisses!! also, hugs from behind?? sneaking up on you and then suddenly wrapping her arms around you and peppering the back of your neck in kisses?? and don’t even get me started on the cuddles she gives! she’ll blush and laugh it off, muttering, “you’re making me so soft,” before giving you another kiss anyway or burying herself deeper in the crook of your neck.

shauna, who is also kind of protective over you.

and, honestly, the same goes for you too: at parties, you’re always on edge when you see shauna drinking or getting roped into something reckless. she brushes it off, claiming she’s fine, but you can tell there’s a part of her that’s pushing boundaries to feel something more intense. if anyone even hints at giving you trouble, she’s quick to stand up for you. shauna will always find her ways to make sure you know you’re safe with her, even if it’s just a hand on your back or a quick glare at anyone who looks at you the wrong way. but also!! shauna, who becomes a whole new level of protective when you’re sick! when you come down with a cold, she surprises you by coming over with a bag full of snacks, soup, and a stack of dvds. she tries to play it off casually, saying, “don’t get any ideas! i’m just here to make sure you’re not dying or anything” but, as she settles in beside you, she ends up fussing over you, adjusting your blanket and checking your temperature with the back of her hand.

shauna who absolutely adores it when you run your fingers through her hair.

when things get overwhelming for either of you. shauna loves nothing more than to just sit quietly with you. she doesn’t even need to talk or do anything special, just being with you, feeling your presence, grounds her. but what she loves the most is when you run your hands through her hair, even if she’s shy about asking for it. on bad or stressful days, she’ll lie with her head in your lap, letting your fingers soothe her, the sensation melting away her worries for just a little while.

shauna who annotates her favorite books for you!!

i can’t believe i’m only coming up with this now: she would 100% annotate all of her favorite novels for you, scribbling down her thoughts and highlighting her favorite paragraphs!! if you have to read a book for school that you’re absolutely not interested in, she’d do the same thing for you, trying to make the experience just a little more enjoyable and rewarding for you!! oh reading together?? specifically shauna reading to you while you rest your head in her lap??

shauna who journals about you.

half of her journal entries are about you and your relationship. she keeps little things from your dates, like a movie ticket, a flower you picked for her, or a picture she took of you and collects them between the pages of said journal!!

shauna who, after all of these things, disappears from your life.

not just from your life specifically, but everyone’s. when she tells you about the trip, there’s an unease you can’t shake. you were there when they won states and you know the nationals are next. and still, your intuition tells you that something is wrong. you don’t get a chance to say goodbye the way you want: no real hug, no lingering kiss, just a quick goodbye with friends around. the memory of that rushed, simple parting would haunt you for a long time…

shauna, who has written you letters she never got to give you before the plane crash.

shauna had a habit of writing letters to you late at night, pouring out all her fears, frustrations, and hopes. she’s kept them hidden in a box under her bed, along with the polaroids, convinced she’ll never show them to you. each letter is a reminder of just how much you meant to her, even if she couldn’t always say it aloud. you stumble upon them during the long hours you spent in her room after they go missing and take them home with you. every time, during those months, that you find yourself forgetting the sound of her voice or the words she’d used, you get them out and they’ll bring it all back to you.

[cipher-zoo]

Roger doesn't praise Buggy, like he'll give him a small compliment but that's about it. It's to a point where Buggy gets genuinely surprised when it happens Shanks absolutely gets praised though. -Forgotten birthday anon

Excuse me, Anon. Did you really think that it was okay to send this to me? A certified Buggy Stan? Because it is! It is fully okay! In fact, I love this. Your brain is amazing, and I am so happy you chose to share those thoughts with me!! 💙

I hope you are okay with me extending on this (again) because I just can't help myself.

It's not that Roger never praises Buggy, he does. It's just rare, and somehow that makes it worse. Sometimes Buggy feels like he is doing everything in his power just to get Roger to recognize that he is in fact trying. He may not be as skilled at fighting as Shanks, but that doesn't mean that he is useless. He can still be a great pirate. Roger just needs to see that.

That is why Buggy steals the damned fruit. If he manages to sell the thing for far more than the rest of the crew could, then surely everyone would have to acknowledge that he is more than just a cabin boy. That would show them that he could hold his own, even if he isn't the best fighter on the Grand Line. After all, wealth could grant just as much infamy as power. Of course, having a lot of money is a very welcome byproduct that Buggy won't shun.

But things don't turn out the way he thinks they will. Instead of stealing away in the middle of the night and returning with heaps of money and Roger's respect, Shanks makes Buggy eat the Devil Fruit. Which means that now nobody will be able to sell it and to make it worse Buggy loses the only thing he was better at than Shanks. Swimming.

And somehow all of this, Buggy thinks, is because Roger praises him sometimes. Because if Roger were to never do it, then maybe Buggy wouldn't have to try. If Roger just never muttered praise towards him, then Buggy wouldn't believe that there is a way to make his captain acknowledge his skill. If there is no way for you to win, why play in the first place.

But the head pats and the "you did goods", as rarely as they happen, are enough to spur him on. To make him believe that it's not that Roger doesn't want to praise him, it's just that Buggy, no matter how hard he tries, is simply not good enough to be praised.

By the time he grows older, Buggy accepts this. He knows that Shanks is Roger's favorite, it's okay. He just wishes his captain would tell him once, just once, that he is proud to have Buggy on his crew. But who could be proud of a clown?

[journey-to-the-attic]

So have you heard of that Obey Me: Nightbringer thing?? I saw it on their Twitter and I have no idea what it is but I don't interact with enough people in the fandom to ask

oh yeah, i saw that too! unfortunately i also have no idea what it is, so i can't help you here ^^;

i think i saw someone under it saying it's a prequel game of some sort? but idk if they actually knew or if it's speculation, so keep that in mind

[hoshigray]

⊹˚୨ Too Sweet ✮NOT✮ to Spoil! ୧˚⊹ | jjk men

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ choso, kento, satoru, suguru, sukuna & toji × how their sweet sub is treated.

contents: JJK men x afab/fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - size differences - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! + m! receiving) - Daddy/sir kink - sloppy kissing/making out - breast fondling + nipple stimulation - thigh riding - squirting - dry-humping/grinding - praising - sex toys - voyeurism (consensual) - face + throat-fucking - [un]protected sex (psa: wrap it up, or get tf up) - more stuff specified in their respective perspectives - mention of drool/spit and tears.

word count: 6k (yikes, overkill, lol)

a. note: requested by an anon; yahooo, another one of these!!

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Kamo Chōsō ⋮ kissing/making out - breast fondling + nipple stimulation + sucking - dry-humping - masturbation (m! receiving) - cowgirl position - pet names (angel, baby, sweetie).

Choso loves to have you close to him, your soft lips meshed with his, his hands roaming inside your shirt to feel your skin while yours grip his tee. 

“Haahh, Choso…please.”

“I know, sweetie,” he hushes you with his lips. “I’m right here…Hmm.” 

You and your boyfriend were on his bed, two figures in a close space. Choso likes having you at his place, taking this time to enjoy you all to himself. Especially after you two spent time together today, going out on a little outing and enjoying each other to start their weekend. Now, after the sunset on your way home, the two of you use the night to spark more intimate moments. 

Choso gropes your chest after sneaking his hands under your bra. The softness of your mounds has him sigh, his slender fingers sinking into the plumpness. The kiss breaks for him to observe as you lift your shirt, the sight having him gulp thickly from what he’s doing to you as you evoke cute noises by the tweezes of your nipples.

“Choso,” you whine, your hands finding his shoulders to grab onto. “Please, keep touching me…”

The brown-headed one nods and steadily descends his face, kissing gently on your exposed chest. You mewl at the contact of his lips on your skin, latching onto them for a second longer for you to shake. Your breath hitches at the feel of his mouth brushing your nipple, mouth agape at the feel of his tongue inching closer to your bud. Slow swishes have you ball your fists until he decides to take the tip into his mouth wholly to suck. 

You cry, “Yesss…More, touch me more.” 

Choso continues to keep sucking, pleasing you with the flick of his tongue and pushing the nip to the rough of his mouth. The other hand tends to the other breast, and he moans on your body as you sneak to touch the groin of his sweatpants.

Pretty fingers rub on him, feeling the stiffening limb sheltered within getting firmer by the second. You grab hold of it, palming his erection to hear more of his moans. “D-Don’t…!”

“I want it,” you purr as you sneak your hand into the hem of his sweats. “Pleasee, I wanna make you cum…Can I?”

How could he ever dismiss you when you’re asking so nicely? He releases your nipple and maneuvers to lay on his back. The gleeful smile makes him chuckle, watching you remove his sweatpants to throw down to the bedroom floor, along with your frilly skirt and panties. 

Choso groans as you bring your bare cunt to his erect penis, pressing it down to his abdomen as you begin to rock your hips to and fro. He whimpers; the touch of your folds has him hanging by a thread. Chocolate orbs stuck to the display of him nestling between the lips of your lower region. Fuck, you felt too good, your slick sticking to him like goo and wetting his shaft. 

“Fuck, he sighs deeply. “You feel…so good, baby.”

The comment makes you titter, placing your hands on his chest to steady yourself as your hips move a little faster. He holds you by the waist, sinking to the sensation of you pleasing him with just your labia sailing on top of him. You reach for the tip of his cock and grind your pelvis down, the movement making Choso curl his toes at the feeling on his most sensitive part. 

His hips begin to jolt on their own, bucking to match your rhythm to a union. Complying, one of your hands comes around behind you to cup his balls, kneading the testes to evoke your partner to keen.

“Ghhhh, shit, shit,” he curses below you, his fingers clamping onto the skin of your waist as you hump faster. “God, you’re so good at this.”

“You gonna cum?” Your question with batting eyes, increasing the pace with the flex of your abs, a firmer grip on his scrotum. Choso nods hurriedly. “Cum for me, Choso; cum, cum!”

You pamper him with cheers as you go harder and briskly on top of his dick. You felt so fucking good, having shivers crawl up the poor pig-tailed man’s frame. All he can think about is how it would feel once he’s inside you, how tight and warm you’d sense at his solid length. Reminiscing about the familiar feeling of your snug walls swallowing him whole nearly has him choke on his spit.

“—Ahhck!! A-Angel, slow down a b—Mmmm!” There’s no point; you’re too into your thrusts that whatever happens after this is inexorable. Choso laments with quick arches, white substance evicting out of his urethra, falling with force and plaster onto the pale skin of his stomach. The shocks of his orgasm have his body jerking with pleasure.

You witness his crescendo, eyeing where every spurt of his semen is expelled. The raunchy image makes you lick your lips with a bite, your boyfriend catching his breath in huffs and pants.

“Hey, Choso,” he looks to you with such comely, dazed eyes. You remove yourself from him and lay on your back with legs risen, spreading your folds wet and sticky of your come.

“Cum inside me just like, yeah?”

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Nanami Kento ⋮ masturbation (m! receiving) - licking + nibbling oral (m! receiving) - ball fondling + sucking - facials - pet names (baby, honey, love, sweetpea) - cameo: Ijichi (phone call).

He groans. "Baby, not now..."

"Please, Kento, just one time..."

Nanami should've known what he was getting into when he waltzed into his shared apartment. Work is meant to be kept out of his home, his place to relax and bask in the comfort of his leisure. However, he had to hurry and take up a phone call with one of his peers about a pressing issue, only having enough time to greet you with a kiss before pulling out his phone and walking to the kitchen.

He should've foreseen you coming into the frey, making the scenario hard enough to deal with. "Kento."

"Shhhh, not right now, love." He places his hand to brush your cheek. "Gotta take this...Hey, I'm at home. Ready when you are."

That wasn't enough for you; your lips contorted to a tiny frown. Because you're walking to his proximity by the kitchen island, your hands snake around his waist, and he chews his lip as your fingers trim the edge of his belt. 

“Ken,” you whisper as you unbuckle him. “You promised.”

“Honey, please, I can’t do it—Mmmm!” You push your hands inside his pants to palm his flaccid dick—not so soft once you start touching him. 

“But you swore!” He doesn’t have time for your whining or fingers motioning around between his pants and boxer briefs. “You said I could suck you off the moment you come ho—“

“Not so loud!”

“Huh, Nanami-san?”

Shit! “Sorry, Ijichi,” the blonde man apologizes. “Give me a second.” Nanami presses the mute button on the phone and looks at you with warranted bewilderment. “You can’t be doing that while I’m on the phone!”

You hit him with a pout. “But you promised I could do it!”

“Yes, I know, but—“

“And you’re the one who texted me about having such a stressful day at work,” you cut him off, pressing your body onto his. “I asked if I could help you ease some stress, and you said yes, so…I’m just doing what I’m supposed to.”

“Baby—”

“Please?” You have him stuck to the kitchen counter, unable to leave your side as your hands find his chest. “I promise I won’t be too loud during your call.” 

A huge sigh escapes through the man’s nostrils, groaning into his hands as if it’s a big enough shield from your pouting face. However, it’s futile once he sees your pleading eyes, beckoning him to grant you permission for this one thing you wish to do for him. You looked too precious to ignore, the twinge of his heart worsening just for even trying to go against you.

He shakes his head, “…Do it quietly. Understand?” Your facial expression perks to immediate glee, your partner wishing he had his goggles to sheathe you, blinding him. He picks up the phone and unmutes, “Okay, I’m back. What about the proposition brought by Mei Mei and…”

You quietly move on your virtue as he speaks to his colleague, his body still by the counter, giving the advantage to roam your hands around him as you please. The blonde flattens his lips to suppress any suspicious noises that could be caught by Ijichi, especially when your hand returns to his solid erection after pulling his pants down. 

Short grunts evade him, making it difficult to stay composed. And you — so daring — decide to kiss the man on the lips. Oh, you were playing dirty, egging him on with a quiet moan that sounded so delightful. His erection gets firmer and firmer, practically sinking into your firm yet gentle touch. 

A soft sound leaves your lips after the kiss, and you decide to slide down and attend to his dick and to leave the sand-haired man to concentrate on his call—or at least try to. His pink glans look inviting, feeling his shaft throb under your fingertips. You start by blowing on it, sending shivers up his spine.

“Mhmm, mhmm…Yeah, I agree,” he replies to the other side of the line, his eyes wandering around the kitchen to try and distract himself away from you stroking on his cock so attentively. But then, his free hand grips onto the counter when something wet whisk around the tip of his cock. “Has…Yaga ever told you about Gojo’s standing in this?”

You flick your tongue on his cockhead, slithering up from the underside to the frenulum and sucking the rough skin with smooches. You start slow by sucking in his cockhead, hallowing your cheeks, and loosening your jaw to introduce your warm orally. 

The sounds you make to him aren’t avoidable, no matter how hard Nanami tries to focus on Ijichi’s voice; all it does is fade away and enhance your mewls as you suck him off. “Okay…Tha..That’s good. And what about the first years? The mission is sometime soon; should there be anyone—Nnnmph!”

Finally, his mocha brown eyes peer down to look at you—fuck, what a big mistake. You were too focused on him, slurping on his cock before coating him with your saliva and mixing in with the precum oozing out. Then, confidence fuels you to take more of him inch by inch, bobbing your head to form a rhythm where your lips meet the tippy top to the very hilt of his pubes. 

“N-Nanami-san?!” Ijichi cries out from the other side. “Are you okay?”

“Gi–Give me a second,” he presses the mute button again to speak with you. “Careful with that tongue, sweetpea.” You peer up to him with hooded eyes, attempting a smile while your mouth is busy with his cock. Shit. “Sorry, I’m back.”

“Is everything all right, Nanami-san?”

“Yeah, I just…stubbed my toe on a chair.” Don’t giggle while you’re sucking on him; the vibrations feel way too good on his lower half. “Anyways, please continue...Hnnnn.”

You remove his dick from your cock and suck on the tip hard, Nanami’s free hand coming to your head to inaudibly warn you. You giggle, trailing down kisses until you reach his scrotum, playing with his testes with laps on of the tongue. Nanami’s barely hanging by a thread, even after you suck on one of his balls until it gets inside your mouth. 

“—Khhh, haaah, uh-huh…Got it,” he answered aimlessly, knowing damn well he was not paying close attention to his subordinate’s words. The golden-haired man is too entranced with how you’re working on him, massaging his other ball while you kiss and suck the skin off the other. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Well, actually, there are things concerning the Kyoto School that need…” Poor Ijichi, his words drowning out from one ear and flying out to the next. You were clouding Nanami’s judgment effortlessly, returning one hand to jerk him off and your lips taking the tip for him to the back of your throat. Jesus Christ, your speed was increasing, and hold getting sturdier, his balls and shaft overwhelmed with this much enjoyment. Fuck! I’m close; his hips twitch increasingly, and his breathing is shaky.

“Kento,” your voice captures his attention. “Cum of my face, ‘kay?” You titter before opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out, a sign that you are ready for him. Nanami licks his teeth; you were too much for him.

Your hands irregularly jerk him off, not skipping a bit as you await his release. The golden-headed man bucks into your hands with your tempo, and his white seed spills out onto your face. He painted your face, sliding into your mouth or landing on your forehead and nose. But you voice no complaints, taking it with grace. 

“….And that should be all on that matter. Sorry about having to call you after work about this,” Ijichi says while Nanami pants under his breath, his legs quivering through the aftershocks. “But I shall see you tomorrow, Nanami-san.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, leaning to his touch as he caresses your cheek. You suck on his thumb after he wipes the semen that sticks to your lips, and he chortles hoarsely.

“See you tomorrow.”

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Gojō Satoru ⋮ fingering (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping + pinching) finger-sucking - missionary position - unprotected sex (no release inside, tho) - pet names (baby, cutie, princess) - mention of saliva/spit.

Sweet things were undoubtedly Gojo Satoru’s most favorite thing worldwide.

“Ahhhnn!! Satoruuu, moreee…!”

And you, his sweet little thing, made his teeth rot the most. 

If Gojo could get addicted to you, he most certainly would. And trust—he is already.

There are not many people in this world within Gojo’s proximity that he would consider “cute” or “gracious,” especially within his occupation as a jujutsu sorcerer, where hazardous dilemmas and death are nearly daily. But you, his partner, are the pure definition of perfection. He’s smitten, indeed, as you are the most treasured thing in his life with whom he wishes to share good moments and protect within his life.

He couldn’t resist you; if he could break the nation in half for you, he would surely try…However, there are times when he’ll try to break you instead. Why?

“Yeah, cutie, ya like it when my fingers go like this?”

Because you’re adorable—and that includes all sides of you.

Gojo removes his fingers out of your leaking cunt. For the past few minutes, he’s been playing with your folds within the confines of your home. The tall man has been away from you for a while, been itching to touch you—to feel you. That’s why he pulled you in and marched you to your bedroom, kissing you up a storm while unclothing you off your bottoms. 

Your figure quakes at the abrupt removal of his digits. “Tahhhh, no!” You whine with scrunched brows. “P-Put ‘em baack!”

“Awww, what’s this?” He tilts his head with a sly smirk; the blindfold hiding the intensity of his gaze doesn’t help. “You like my fingers that much, huh?” A rascally chuckle is caused by how rapidly you nod your head, looking at his hand to see how much of your fluids coats his fingers. “Wow, you’re over here making a mess! Hehe, must feel that good, huh, cupcake?”

“‘Toruu, pleasee���!” You cling to his jacket. “I want them back inside!”

“Ehhhh, but you told me to stop too long ago.” Gojo then takes his fingers to your clitoris. You gasp sharply at the cold, slick-sheeted digits pressing down on your bud, sensitive from the other orgasms prior. “Said that it was too much for you.”

“Mmmm, y-yes, but I am—I was,” you whine at the pinch of your clit. He grinds it with the push and stir of his thumb. “I was…so close!”

He bites his lip; you look too cute when you’re honest, baby. “Well, make up your mind; tell me what you want.”

You gulp as your boyfriend tweaks your pearl, causing quick twitches in your thighs. “P…Please, put your fingers back inside, ‘Toru,” your hips jerk to rub his digits against your vulva and mark more of your essence on him. “I wanna cum on themm…”

Gojo uses his free hand to strip his blindfold off his face, finally letting his royal blue eyes free to view you. “Yeah? Gonna cum on my fingers one more time for me?” He teases your entrance with the prints of his middle finger.

Head pounds as you nod your head. “Yess, let me!”

But then, the snow-haired man lifts his eyebrows while straightening up a bit. “You sure? You don’t wanna cum on something else?” He unzips and discards his jacket before unbuttoning his pants. “Something…better?”

Your eyes misty with wanton blink to see what he’s referring to, a silent gasp when you see his erect cock spring out. The curve of his length makes your mouth water, and the precum leaking out of his urethra to the frenulum is breathtaking. You don’t even realize your lips curling into a smile. “Yes, Satoru,” the folds of your labia space apart from spreading the crevice of your ass. “Make me feel better, please?”

Holy fuck, you would be the end of him. Azure eyes narrow, “Such a good princess,” and he coos as he smacks the tip of his dick onto your vagina. 

The tip of him taps onto the slit, pushing in with every inhale you take. Your come used as lube makes the introduction accessible, and you squeal once the cockhead makes it inside. As you take Gojo inch by inch, the left curve scrapes your walls, toes curling at the contact. And once he puts all of him inside, you cry at the brush of your cervix. 

“Shhh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” he coaxes you in hushes, yet he grinds his pelvis down to the hilt. He can’t help it, loving the endearing whines you let out when he touches up on your most delicate parts. “Just let it out, alright?”

He speaks for you as his hips begin to move at a mediocre cadence, not enough time for you to prepare for the onslaught of grazes to your sweet spots and feverish pokes to your womb. “—Nngaah! W-Wait, Sa’oruu; not t’faast—Ahaaa!!” Gojo doesn’t stop, though; he is just constantly snapping his hips with a salacious hum as your walls clamp around the foreign limb ravaging your insides.

Inevitably, you howl with eyes sewn shut as your orgasm comes caving in, your cunt puckering on Gojo’s shaft as you come on him for the third time in a row. He savors the feeling of you tightening around him, thrusting sluggishly to enjoy the moment before he removes to fist himself. Your sticky fluids sheathing his cock collects on his fingers. 

“Say ahhh~,” and he brings them to your lips, where you eagerly lather his digits in saliva with your tongue and suck. “Good job, cutie!”

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Getō Suguru ⋮ voyeurism (consensual) - masturbation (f! + m! receiving) - sex toy; wand vibrator - squirting - clitoral play - sir kink - pet names (darling, pumpkin, sweetheart) - mention of drool/spit.

He loves watching you—his all-time guilty pleasure.

Geto sits on the armchair situated by the side of the hotel bed, where you lay with your legs spread and your panties rolled up to your thigh. 

Lacy strips of material decorate your body, presenting your boyfriend with the newest lingerie you wish to spoil him with. Matching thigh-high stockings suspended by the garters keep the entire look together—a nice catch for violet eyes to consume.

But not as eye-catching as the commotion between your legs: tiny fingers are toying with your vulnerable cunt, sticking the middle one inside with the help of your slick. Pretty moans slip out of your puffy lips as the pace of your hand goes swifter.

You fingering yourself as your boyfriend watches with a glass of wine in one hand? Geto couldn’t be any higher on a cloud than now.

“Mmmm, ahhhhh,” your eyes flicker to where your man sits and observes. “Suguruu…”

“Mmm? Yes, darling?” He takes a sip of his glass. “You look so good, you know that?”

The comment has you giggling with a light breath, swirling your middle finger around. Geto sees you tease your forefinger inside, loving the way your thighs quirk as you push it in. His eyes are honed at how quickly your come soaks whatever comes in contact.

“Must feel good, too.” He inquires with a raised brow, sneaking a hand down his pants to unfasten his belt and slither into the dark to meet a hard boner. “You’ve been at it for five minutes straight like I told you; good girl.”

“So good,” you purr because of the acclaim. “But, it’s not…enough.” 

Geto takes another gulp of the red liquor. “And why’s that?”

It doesn’t surprise him when you swig your head around to look at him properly, eyebrows knitted together. “Please, Sugu…”

“Please, what?” He stands up after setting the glass down, bringing his pants down a bit to have his erection breathe before returning it to his fisted grasp. “Can’t know unless you tell me.”

You ask with quivered lips and a soliciting gaze—you know he knows what you’re talking about, just taking pleasure in the circumstances where you have to beg. “Please, I want you to stick it in.”

Lips curl to a smile, stroking his cock faster. “Stick what in, sweetheart?” He loves your back-and-forth game, seeing your posture slipping with every question.

You point to his dick with your toes. “I want you…in me.”

Ah, yes, your reward. As his sweet thing, Geto promises to care for you when you obey him. And he’ll admit you have done your part exceeding well as always: adorning the lingerie set as a treat, pleasuring yourself in front of him, and wetting your fingers and thighs of your fluid. It all makes him so turned on that you deserve to be pampered. 

…However, something was still missing. And Geto knows you’re aware of it, too.

“I don’t know,” he plays coy as he mounts on top of the bed to crawl beside you. “You still haven’t done that thing I always like.”

You plead more with watery orbs. “Hmmm…I can’t do it alone; you do it better…” Your fingers leave your aching slit sensitive and damp. “Please, help me.”

“Oh? You want my help?” Geto takes your digits into his mouth to suck them clean, the sight putting your breathing to a halt. “Ask me properly, then I might give you a hand.” Right as he says that, you jolt at the brush of his middle and forefinger against your unattended clitoris.

“…! I-I,” you swallow spit. “I want you to help me—gasp!”

“That’s not how you ask properly, sweetheart.” He scares you a bit with a threatening pinch.

“…Please, sir,” now that’s more like it. “Please make me cum like you always do!”

A proud scoff leaves him. “Thought you’d never ask,” Geto leaves the bed quickly to retrieve something next to the wine glass. He then requests once he proceeds, “Spread your legs.”

You follow his words with haste, distancing your thighs apart for him to position between. Licking your lips as he rests one leg on his shoulder and turns on the item he brought along, whirring vibrations have you bite your bottom lip.

“Ready?” You eagerly nod, and he descends the wand to your vulva. Your frame jolts at the contact of your clit, meeting the shaking toy surface for a flick of a second. You choke on air and Geto chortles. “Ehhh, but you said you were ready?” 

“B-But that was a bit intense…!” Tears begin to pool at the corner of your eyes; your nerves heighten to a peak. 

“I know,” he brings the want back to your clit. This time, he doesn’t stop at your screams. “That’s the point. You said you wanted my help, right?”

You knew this would happen, him using the vibrating toy so roughly that you can’t voice out your opinions adequately. Fuuuck!! It was too intense how hard he pressed the wand on your sore bud, circling and grinding to the point that your words transformed into incoherent babbles. Geto bends down, the added weight not making it any better for you to squirm away from him and his antics.

And yet…it feels so fucking gooood!! The added pressure hits your spot efficiently with speed and energy, pleasing shocks coursing through your body through every zig-zag motion. You howl when he brings the toy to your labia; the vibrating surface feels way too good that you’re clamping onto a void nonstop. Drool escapes your lips, as do the tears plummeting down hot cheeks.

“Heh, so fucking cute,” Geto comments to you before claiming your tongue to suck on for you to whimper desperately. Spit exchanged with wild tongues, teeth clashing amongst the muffled mewls and moans between the satisfaction. You slurp on his wet muscle in gratitude, head pounding from all the ecstatic commotion occurring.

Geto then flicks the wand up and toy, hitting both your folds and clit simultaneously, and your eyes travel up to your skull, almost choking on his spit. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit—you can feel it. And when it hits you, it hits you hard.

As your orgasm comes crashing down, so does the liquid you squirt out from the stimulation of your glands. The secretion goes around with the help of the toy, continuously gliding across, spraying onto your thighs and abdomen. Geto gets caught in the crossfire, the watery substance plastering onto the wand, his hand, forearm, and cock. Not to mention the sheets of the bed underneath you two.

The onyx-haired man smirks between smooches; there it is. His mouth leaves yours, spit connecting the two pairs of lips from the messy make-out session. Purple eyes take a good long look at the entire thing; your fucked out expression stuck with the trembles of your body—and he couldn’t be even more turned on!

“There you go, pumpkin!”

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Ryōmen Sukuna ⋮ size difference (true form! kuna) - breast fondling - thigh-riding - anal fingering (f! receiving) - cowgirl position - double penetration; anal & vaginal insertion - asking permission - pet names (little plaything, good girl, pet) - mention of pain.

He smirks. “Enjoying yourself?”

You nod your head with quivers. “You feel so…good, my Lord…”

“Hmph. I can tell, making a mess on my thigh like a real fucktoy.”

Sukuna enjoys your company—a hard thing for many to grasp or comprehend in link with the King of Curses. But yes, he seems to like to have you around him, especially when you’re desperate for him.

You were indeed his most precious thing — a rarity as the cursed man doesn’t have the time nor drive to indulge in such trivial items. Yet you seem to have been the exception for such doctrine. It didn’t happen overnight or months, but a miracle did happen for him to find something – or someone – worthy of his attention when he’s in the mood. 

And that’s where you come in, his little cherished plaything summoned to his quarters to save him from boredom. 

Sukuna lay on his futon with you atop him, straddling his massive thigh between your legs without your underwear on. You move your hips to and fro, gliding your cunt across his skin and covering him with your come. His lower legs kept to your legs so you don’t run away.

Your lips shudder as you sway. “Hahhh, Lord Sukuna…I–I can’t—“

“Hmm? Speak up.” His lips curl to a deeper, devious sneer. “Can’t what?”

“Nnhhaa…I can’t keep going; I’m too—” You exhale through your mouth as your spine jitters from the slight raise of his thigh. “T’ tender…”

“Oh? Is that supposed to swade me or something?” He raises his sole salmon brow in amusement, and your grip on your legs is tighter. “You stop moving when I say so.”

“Y-Yes, my Lord, but—Taahh…!” His upper left arm grabs for your wrists to keep them on his chest, the tongue from his abdomen lick your elbow. “I’ve been doing this for a while…any more, and I could break.”

His expression remains impassive. “What else am I having you do this for?”

“Mmmm, my Lord, please,” your eyes flutter to his comely face, all four crimson eyes fixed on yours. “I don’t wish to cum on just your thigh. I wish to c—oh God…To cum on your cocks.”

Sukuna scoffs; your meek honesty is a tiny bit reputable. “I don’t recall saying you have a say in where and when you can cum. You seem to enjoy my thigh for this long; you can keep it up.” You weren’t prepared for a hand to sneak up to caress your bum. “I don’t think you’re grateful.”

“B-But, I’ve been so good to you all this time!” Do you dare keep questioning him? You earned yourself a finger pushed inside your ass. You better plead your case incredibly. “I’ve come for you this long with no complaints, and I am honored that you gain pleasure from mine…Yet, I want you to feel the inside,” your ears burn from your confession, yet the truth is all you can say. “Rather than the outside.”

Now, he can’t lie; the way you phrased that did spark his interest way more than it intended. But he hasn’t said anything yet, so you continue begging. 

“Please, my Lord,” your hips go faster for your sore folds to indulge in the friction, and the finger in your asshole has you sway even more. “Please,please,pleaseee!! I want you…Want nothing but you…!”

Hmph, so pathetic. Your hopeless pleas have the behemoth’s grin grow broader, the thick digit in your butt pushing in and out to the point of you humming. “What a wailing pet I have to deal with...However, you have been good.”His strong hands grab for you to pull you up closer, your stomach brushing one of the cocks standing erect. “Go on, don’t have me do the job myself.”

A curt nod is given to your master as you raise your lower half and crawl further for it to align where his groin is. Your hand grabs for the dick upfront while Sukuna grasps the one below it, and you slowly drop your lower region until his glans kiss your vulva. Inhales and exhales ease your nerves while you push down on the tip, gasping aloud once your chasm swallows it in as the initial pain diminishes slowly with time.

“Good,” A pleased purr rumbles his chest. “Now for the other,” he brings the other tip to your anus, your job maintaining a calm breathing technique as he pushes himself into you. The sting of something foreign entering lasts for a couple of seconds until the second cockhead makes its way inside your rear. 

Your mouth is agape as you allow yourself a few moments for your body to accommodate their girthy lengths before Sukuna playfully smacks your ass to attend to him. And so you do, your ass falling sluggishly as your holes occupy with your master’s shafts, venturing deep inside your channels and rubbing on your walls effortlessly have you whimper.

“Little plaything,” he calls you once your butt lays down on him, rubbing his cheek on yours before licking your ear. He whispers, “What do you say to me after letting you have your way?” His gruff voice, so close to your eardrum, lowered to a hush, has your stomach doing knots.

You reply with a trembly sigh. “Thank you…my King,” You look into his eyes as you express gratitude, and his face comes near to claim your lips.

“Good girl.”

₊˚⊹ ᰔ Fushiguro Tōji ⋮ sloppy kisses/making out - Daddy pink - missionary + mating press positions - clitoral play (tweaking and swiping) - breeding kink - creampies - unprotected sex - pet names (baby, hun, mama) - mention of drool/spit.

“Ahhh, haaaahh, D-Daddy—Mmmph!!”

“I know, baby, I know…Fuck, so nice and tight.”

Toji loves the way you take in his cock. His sweet, little things grit their teeth as he stuffs his entire length into your insides, your gummy walls clenching around the girth, stretching you out to the point of toes curling. 

Your back pressed down to the sheets of your shared bed, your legs wrapped around Toji’s waist as he plows into your wet cunt, excess come exiting from the union of your sexes stains not only the sheets but the base of his cock. The room is a bit dark yet warm, with only light from the television basking on your naked bodies. Sounds of plap, plap, fill the silence during your intimacy.

His scarred lips latch onto yours, steamy kisses dwelling into a plane of passion by the second with every mewl he takes from your breath. Stuffing his tongue into your mouth overwhelms your senses, orally stimulating your drive to euphoria. And to his pleasure, you suck on his wet muscle, rewarding you with more spasmodic ruts to your vagina.

Toji relishes the feeling of him wanting him, your body reacting to his every touch and soft caress while his lower half puts you through the most nerve-wracking pleasure. He then cruises a hand down to where your clitoris is, tweezing it with his forefinger and thumb. And the scream he drinks is just delectable.

“—Mmaahh! Ohhhhfuuuck,” spit from the kiss trails from your puffy lips to your chin. “T’ muuuch, Daddyyy!! I’m t’ fuuull…!!”

“Yeah? ’S too much?” He repeats with a chuckle, licking your cheek. “But y’re doin’ so well, hun, takin’ my dick like a good girl.” More swipes on your clit have your arms wrapping around his neck to his amusement. “Hnnnng…Wringin’ me out like crazy…”

You wail to his ear as he presses his forefinger on your vulnerable bud. “Ohhhh, feel shoo goood…Gonna cum.”

Words that have Toji’s emerald eyes darken licentiously. “What’s that, mama?” He rubs his hot cheek to yours; he heard what you said perfectly—but it’s satisfying to listen to your shy self repeat yourself.

“D-Daddyyy, pleaseee—Mmmfff!” An abrupt thrust makes you shrill. “Please make me cummm…!”

“Nnnmm! Shiiit, don’t do that,” he hisses at the clasp of your walls on his girth. “Gonna make me knock ya up…”

You whine. Your hand brushes through his nape onto his raven hair. “Give it to me; I want you to fill me up!”

He scoffs. “Yeah? Want Daddy to bust my load inside again,” he grinds his pelvis down to rub on your G-spot. “Gonna be good, and let me fill ya up til’ y’re all fat with a baby?” 

“Yessss, Daddy, please, pleaseee” You kiss and suck the skin of his neck, and he whirs. “Make me all fhat with cum, please! I wanna cum—Mmmm!— and have yer baby!!”

“Heh, fuck, y’re driving me crazy…Stay still, baby,” he coos before arranging upright to unscrew your legs, bringing them to your chest before he cages you back with his added weight and pounds into your swollen cunt relentlessly. You howl and scream at the increased cadence, more come spilling down the crevice of your ass with every push of his cock, and his balls smacking your taint frequently. 

“Ohhhh!! NnnooohmyGod!!” You throw your head back to the pillow, unable to do anything else but take him, forcing you into submission. The angle aids deeper penetration, having your head pound harder and your eyes stuck to the ceiling. “Yesssss…Harder, Daddy, please go hardeeer!!”

“Haaahh, I’m tryin’, mama,” he grits his teeth, pistoning his cock frantically to have you speaking in tongues. The sounds of skin slapping get louder and louder, furthering the heat exchanged and the erotic atmosphere.

“Ohhhfuckin’shiiiiit…!! I’m gonna cum,” scrapes to your cervix push you to the edge, threatening to shut down entirely as this keeps going on. “I’m cumming, I’m…Ohoooo!”

Black bangs stick to his sweaty forehead, “Me too, hun…! ‘Bout to bust my—Lllmmm!!” Jesus, your tight walls have him in a chokehold, his abs tensing as the inevitable takes place.

Your walls flutter on his cock as your climax comes first to lock you down, shrieking as the tremors rock you to your core. Toji falls second, releasing his semen into you once again and filling you up with his white seed with a groan. He pulls you in for another kiss, saliva traversing through tongues, dancing with each other with shared moans until both bodies relax after their respective highs.

The cool air brings you two back to reality, Toji dismissing his lips away from you to lick the saliva while withdrawing his length from your inner texture and watching the pool of essence exert your hole and slide down to the messy sheets. The sight makes the older man snicker, licking his scar in contentment as you murmur breathless ‘thank you’s for the reward.

“Y’re welcome, mama.”

© HOSHIGRAY2024 ✮ reblogs and comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ⊹ header art by hyocorou + dividers by @cafekitsune.

[acid-ixx]

Sigh.. We all should've have chosen both wally and conner...i can't imagine the faces of batfam

how to be a heartbreaker! (again &. again concept)

ft. yandere! wally west, starfire, roy harper, artemis, conner kent, bart allen x gn! neglected! reader w/ platonic yandere! batfam.

— masterlist !

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: age gaps but there isn't nsfw (except for conner) and the reader is described to be older than 20 in this concept and was far ignored longer than in the og story.

a/n: happy (late) halloween! 🎃 i'm praying to the gods, please don't let this post flop, i'm in my flop era fr! because i am not writing allat for it to get ignored 💔 (just kidding i love u guys, especially to all those who comment! i read all your comments even if i'm unable to reply at times). if you guys are wondering why i didn't include all the characters, it's because this is just a drabble and if anyone likes more concepts about this, please send in asks! anyways, enjoy this sweet harem au hehe.

anon, you are so right. but let me raise you this: getting together with all your siblings' teammates. i'm not just saying wally and conner, no! i'm saying the young justice, the teen titans, all their friends and old pals— the moment you come of age, hide under the radar for a few years and eventually meet them at random. you'd be giving dick, hell, even bruce, your father, mind you, a run for his money when it comes to a player reputation amongst the siblings, and the best part (or worst part for you once it's too late...) of it all is the fact that you don't even have to keep all your little relationships with them a secret when they never once bat an eye on you until recently.

the funny thing is: you didn't even have to try to attract them. it was all them approaching you at random days and getting to know you better, with you, at your lowest point, accepting any medium of attention. at first it was them feeling pity, perceptive to how your siblings chose to focus on them rather than you, but now it's them chasing after you because you're so interesting in every aspect; even if you find yourself average at best compared to your talented siblings.

maybe it's because you bring the normal out in them, or because you display such raw emotions and are an entirely separate being from vigilantism. either way, they find themselves thinking about you more often than their missions and that's harrowing.

and because you're such a pathetic, wet cat, so desperate for love; all the people you hit on develop a savior complex because of you. i don't just mean them finding you cute, or interesting, absolutely not. i mean you're constantly being thrown around like a prince or princess who needs a knight in shining armor to catch them when they fall, except you're constantly being carried in some other's arms even when you can stand on your own two feet.

you just have that special quality in you that makes everyone fall head over heels. it makes them fantasize scenarios of a home life with you; they could provide better than your current ones do, for sure. you'd be spoiled to death with kisses to your face, hands wrapped around your body, and a guarantee that you'll never feel alone or unsafe in a world full of danger that lurks around the corner.

that same quality may have also been your downfall.

wally west doesn't mind training all day to become stronger and faster to save you from every danger that lingers near your presence. hell, he doesn't complain anymore whenever dick assigns him some missions if that means he can pass by your room by the manor as an after-mission reward, loving it when you smile at him with the gentlest quip of your mouth as he hastily wraps you in his arms with the same amount of speed it took to run to your house. wally cherishes watching you in slow-time because he could worship every little part of his darling's expression, quelling the boredom he had for the entire day. he wants to be fast enough for his babe, not only just to impress them but because he wants them to see him as the only reliable individual capable enough of protecting and flirting with you. not everyone can measure up to his speed, no? nobody could keep up with this man's speed and he's known for taking you away whenever you're with someone else just to get a sliver of your time.

starfire's emotions become ablaze and so does her powers every time she notices one of your other sweethearts becoming too touchy with you, unable to comprehend why you're not even in a relationship with her yet. but you're too sweet and you bury yourself in her curly tresses to calm her down. at first that's enough! she doesn't understand the concept of physical affection and the boundaries that come with it as much as others but boy does she crave it when it comes to you. it doesn't help the fact that you're incapable of sometimes denying her affections and letting yourself be constantly kissed by the girl in every part of your face. she's very warm, though, and her curiosity about things foreign to her, paired with you teaching her more about your world, makes starfire adore her sweetheart's willingness and patience; it simply warrants another passionate kiss in the mouth from the pink-haired alien.

roy harper brings out a more rebellious side of you that you never imagine yourself sporting. his experiences in life and his rebellious relationship towards oliver queen, his adoptive father shapes him to who he is now; and he'd be damned if you drown yourself in endless misery like he did. yeah, it doesn't help that lian loves you as much as he does and he thinks you're the perfect match for him, watching you play with his little girl and care for him whenever he's injured does wonders for the fantasies that plays itself in his head, all scenarios of coming home to you after a hard day of work, just to see you and lian greet him the moment he enters your shared house with him, kissing him in the lips, telling him about the wonderfully prepared dinner you and lian whipped up for him, and watching your eyes widen at another bouquet of your favorite flowers he bought home for you. you're not in a relationship with him at all but can't a man just dream?

why dick wonders every damn time one of his friends ditch another one of their hangouts is a question never to be answered. but it's been noticeable these days that he's starting to suspect something wrong at play, especially since he's noticed tension within his comrades, and as a leader he couldn't just simply ignore the tense glares, insults to their being, and the hushed whispers; all pet names, a mantra they're used to calling you.

but dick doesn't take it seriously until it's too late.

that his baby bird long fell off the nest years ago, taken into the arms of whom he thought to be his most trusted comrades, thoroughly loved more than he could've given you. and it's not just one person smitten with you; it's an entire harem of people unwilling to share you just as much as dick who'd soon realize that he shares far more similarities with you; a heartbreaker, yet a caretaker at heart.

it's no wonder why everybody wants you for themselves. it's not only your family who loves to hear your precious laughs and gentle hands; that sets the jealousy ablaze in his heart.

jason never thought that artemis carried a softer version of her. but he's been picking up telltale signs of her donning dangling keychains, all cute doodles of her no doubt, and necklaces he's sure he's seen around the manor at times. it's not her typical style, and she never really found the appeal with cute things like crochet plushies of her; yet the designs are oddly reminiscent to someone he always called his angel. but whenever he tries to bring the topic up, he only receives a snarky reply, a protective hold on her things, and a familiar phrase telling him to mind his business. he isn't aware of how she met you one time after you've nearly been crushed to death by a car accelerating at you, if not for her taking the blunt end of the hit. ever since that day you've been seeing her regularly by alleyways watching over you as your guardian and giving her tokens of appreciation, albeit small, that she keeps as her prized properties; ones nobody has special access to touch. she's not much of a heckler for physical touch, but she occasionally gives you a head scratches and the rare peck to your lips.

jason doesn't like how jealous he is towards her, because of how the would-be stranger treats her and why he can't seem to pinpoint the primal urge to rip those little trinkets from her. sometimes he feels like a man possessed, eyeing the keychains and the random pastel bracelets longer, all warranting the same angered glare artemis reciprocates.

he swore he's seen them before, splayed across the random rooms in the manor, some even being in the library; things he loved to fiddle with whenever he was bored out of his mind. so seeing them being proudly displayed by artemis triggers visceral reactions within him.

but could jason do anything about it when he's part of the reason why your roster consists of your family's comrades? no.

if you couldn't get attention from your family, you'll just have to get it through their affiliations. yeah, some are older than you, but god are you treated like divinity with just how willing they are to kneel upon your feet just to gain a crumb of your attention. even the strongest lay weak whenever you look at them with disappointment or sadness with your wide, captivating eyes.

all the times tim drake would be with teammates, he'd notice how their eyes look at him expectantly, as if waiting for another one to accompany them. at first he ignores it, but the longer their strange behavior persists, he begins opening a case about his close friends.

he soon realizes that conner has a record of mentioning "his cute little darling," and how he'd brag to his other friends about how left his jacket and all his favorite t-shirts in your room and how you're always drowning in his scent— always quiping about just how much it smells like you and how he enjoys wearing all his clothes right after you wear them just to get a whiff of your presence in his life; you being his motivation to fight against crime just so he could see your pretty face and tell him you're proud of him. undeniably, he's the one who spends the longest time with you and he's prideful about it, being the only man with the privilege to touch every part of your skin, wishing to melt against you just so he'd be branded in your body like how your name is the only sweet thing he can taste in his mouth.

it's not only conner, but bart allen would bounce around more often demanding that it's unfair how conner gets everything and how he gets little time with you, with just how often you get thrown around by all your love interests! he'd admit just how cute he finds you whenever you coo about him and play with his messy locks of hair whenever it's his time of the week to visit you right after missions. spending time with him is arguably the most casual part of your life, because he loves to help you with your daily errands despite him complaining about the same tasks to his other teammates... he says it's because you stimulate every part of his brain to find satisfaction in every small action that you do, but it's not only that, rather, he wishes to gain all your praises that you sing for him, never finding boredom in your presence at all.

tim's the first one who pieces the jigsaw puzzle together, but he's thoroughly astounded either way at just how smitten they are with you. it makes him open an entirely different case that's just about you; where he discovers how you're connected with nearly everyone close to him and his siblings.

it makes him wonder what makes you all the more interesting. it's how exactly he spirals into a periodic cluster of events investigating your entire life and drowning himself in work, terabytes of files each analyzed carefully— all about you, your past, and present situation. tim drake never saw a person this admired that much, so much so that online stalking lead to physical stalking.

all your dm's are spammed by countless people, and you don't even take the initiative to reply because you'd be too busy being tossed around by the time the vigilante tracks your location. it's honestly amusing at first but the longer tim become a third perspective to your life, the more he craves your physical presence, just to get a taste of dissecting all the thoughts in your brain. but with just how often their friends fight over you, it'd be hard to rip you away from the clawing hands of all your admirers.

that's why he sets a plan into motion. if he couldn't have you to himself, then he could at least share you with the closest people he had in his life— not with all the strangers who think they know his younger sibling better than he does.

a simple document, many actually, so documents, were all he needed, with printed stacks of a4 paper compiling each and every known fact about you.

all in the name of love, he'd give it out to every member of the family in quick succession.

a hefty reminder to take back what once was theirs.

[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Hi! If youre still doing requests, i have kind of an odd ask , but maybe some of the upper moons' reactions to meeting Muzan's wife (reader). I also really like whipped!Muzan so maybe the other demons' reactions to seeing the demon king doting on his wife. Thank you very much :)

Hi Anon! (^○^.) I actually love this request, so thank you for sliding it into my askbox ���

Honestly I love a powerful man - especially a powerful villain - who's just absolutely in love with their wife (♥ω♥.) and would do anything for them, it just brings me joy.

Anyway! I'm rambling abit, but here is your request! I hope I've done it justice (^ω^.) Please enjoy!

Come again to request whenever you want cause I'm always open.

Muzan Kibutsuji being whipped for his wife + Upper Moons Reactions - Headcannons:

You know those types of men that are just unmovable pillars of stone - who look like they were carved from the finest marble by the hands of angels - who are always impeccably dressed with a voice of icy poison and just command your attention?

Who turn to the softest love-struck mush when with their wife

yeah, that's Muzan Kibutsuji with his wife (aka. you)

The finest meals, clothes and jewelry are yours with a click of his fingers - all done to make you happy, to see you smile

Anything that you mention briefly - doesn't matter if it''s a book or a holiday - its yours by the end of the day

Just one smile and a fluttering of your eyelashes has muzan on his knees - a singular pout of your lips has his mind running wild

You just have to breathe and Muzan's heart squeezes, breath stuttering in his chest as he looks at you in adoration

You could ask for the world and he'd give it too you on a platter

Muzan worships you

Each touch from you is a blessing to his skin

Each kiss sealed into him

Each word of love that falls from your lips make him drunk to hear, each sentence thick with a love that leaves hearts in his eyes and his heart thumping wildly

He wants to wear you like a brand - each mark you leave on him (bite marks and all) are worn with pride - and you (and only you) get to touch and mark his skin in such sensual ways

Under his wedding ring, his finger holds your bite mark, something that he begs you to do each day - with love-struck tears pricking his eyes - and it always makes him feel like he's properly yours

"My Love," He purrs with a voice a think velvet "My wonderful wife, my moon and stars, I love you for ever and always" and he kisses you so softly

Sometimes you have to stop this man from wearing matching clothes with you - "But Beloved,"he whimpers with a face liked a kicked puppy "I want us to match" - because he will absolutely wear a matching couples outfit

Other days he just likes sharing the same colour palette

When you worship him by placing soft kisses to his skin - his wrists, knuckles and faces - Muzan feels like he's on cloud nine

Upper Moons Reactions:

When the upper moons first met you, it was by accident - pure accident -they'd been summoned and it just so happened that it was when muzan was just in the midst of kissing you and bathing you with compliments

Kokushibou doesn't even blink and just stands in position like a trained guard, this sight has been something he's accidentally stumbled upon a couple of times before and honestly it makes him miss his wife

Because this isn't the first time he's met you but rather the fifth, the first actually time he met you, you were incredibly respectful of him and actually treat him nicely - you became tea drinking buddies - so he quickly came to like you

Douma/Doma genuinely shrieks - like an honest to god scream - before quickly going to make fun (not a good idea) about how loving Muzan is and, "Why don't you treat us this way Muzan-sama~ You're breaking my heart~"

Akaza looks away from such an intimate scene with respect since it felt wrong to look upon his lord loving his wife - although his heart does ache for some reason when looking at such a perfect loving scene

Hantengu starts sobbing while apologizing anxiously - actually very jealous at how loving the scene is, he wants a wife and to dote on someone

Gyokko simply proclaims it as artful and simply leaves it as such

Daki Blushes a deep crimson - it makes her want a husband to dote on her so much

While Gyutaro simply sighs before looking away - much like kokushibou and akaza in respect - with jealous crawling up his ribs at such love, he wants somebody to dote on and love him so romantically

[foli-vora]

once again in your arms

joel miller x f!reader

A/N: mwahah, hello boys i’m baaack (10 points to whoever knows what movie that quote's from). took an unexpected break coz life, but i’m ready to get back on track. this was requested by a beautiful anon a while back (sorry for the wait angel), but i hope you enjoy! x

Request: hello! so this is kinda angsty: joel and the reader are married and have a baby (plus sarah, obviously). the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

Word count: 4.5k-ish

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy, birth and having a baby, domestic fluff, angst, pre and post outbreak, some spoilery things if you haven’t seen the show yet, heartbreak, loss of a child, apocalypse things, i sweat at the idea of caring for a baby during the end of the world, soft reunions, fluff, cameos of my fave oc’s made in a different series

It’s a fact you had learnt in the very early days of your relationship... the Miller men knew how to care for a lady. Whether it was Tommy sliding in to open the door for you before you could reach for the handle, or Joel draping you in blankets and taking on the responsibility of keeping your hot water bottle warm to fend off cramps for the evening, not a moment went by when you didn’t feel the constant reassurance of their care.

Especially now, fresh from the hospital and tender from your days of excruciating pain and an extensively long labour, Tommy quickly slaps the pillows into something plusher, hands gentle as they guide you down until you’re reclining into the armchair.

Joel keeps an eye on you from across the room, the brief wash of concern slipping away with the easy smile that grows along his lips when your eyes meet.

He rocks the wrapped bundle in his arms softly, a big hand dwarfing the small head that peaks from the blankets. His fingers brush through the light smattering of hair peeking out from the cotton burrito, his index running along the tiny peak of a nose and you feel your heart swell in your chest.

“Dad,” Sarah whines with an eager smile, shifting restlessly on the couch, “come on, I’ve been waiting all weekend.”

“Oh my god,” Joel drawls sarcastically, “all weekend? Baby girl, how are you survivin’ right now?”

“Shut up,” her grin widens, “give me my baby brother before I explode.”

“Well, we don’t want that mess all in the livin’ room,” Joel quips, stepping over your weekend bags tossed on the floor and closer to the couch, “ain’t treadin’ your brain all into the rug—thing was damn expensive.”

Sarah shrugs, readjusting her body to sit straighter and holding her arms out expectantly, “Least I have a brain.”

Tommy snorts in amusement, grinning at his brother's expense, “That’s true.”

“Are you still here?” Joel side eyes him, barely fighting the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

They bicker, throwing their little snippy sibling comments back and forth before Sarah clears her throat, her eyebrows rising in impatience.

“Alright, alright. Here, watch his head,” Joel instructs gently, a smile playing along his lips, “that’s it, baby, you got him.”

It’s a beautiful picture, Sarah carefully bringing the baby closer and tucking him carefully into her arms, and the sentiment is shared with Tommy as the flash and click of a camera goes off. He removes the polaroid sliding from the slot and sits it on the coffee table to develop before instructing Joel to slide in next to her and smile.

Both Joel and Sarah are oblivious to his instruction, lost in the bubble that has overcome them. You find peace watching them, warmth spreading along your limbs by the sweet tenderness of it all. The love is clear between the three of them cuddled on the couch, and it’s almost too much for your heart to bear.

Sarah beams down at her baby brother, cooing soft words and stroking a gentle finger down Matthew’s cheek. Joel throws an arm to rest on the top of the couch behind Sarah, turning into her and answering her questions quietly.

8 pounds, 3 ounces. Smaller than you. No, he didn’t cry at all—gave me and the docs a damn heart attack. She sure did a great job. 

Your Joel was never a man to wear his heart on his sleeve, but the emotion shines from his eyes, bleeds through the lines in his face and it’s enough to bring tears building along your lash line.

“You okay over there?”

His familiar drawl brings your attention to him, and you smile at him, tired and fully at peace. It’s bliss, despite the ache of birth still hanging in your limbs. M

“I’m fine,” you respond quietly, lids heavy with exhaustion, “I’m just so happy.”

He fucking beams. His grin creases his cheeks and he nods softly.

“Me too, honey,” he mutters, turning his attention back to his children and playing with a strand of Sarah’s hair as he gazes down at Matthew, “me too.”

—

Four months later.

Chaos.

Matthew wails against your chest, the deafening sounds of screams, bullets, sirens and explosions setting him off into hysterics. Your arms tighten around him, keeping his face tucked closely into your throat so your scent could hopefully provide him some reassurance.

You crouch beside cars, you run until your legs ache. You take cover in stores, the soles of your shoes crunching over broken glass of the shattered windows. Every phone you try gives nothing but a dull tone. Radios are filled with static and emergency broadcasts play on the view screens you run past in your effort to escape whatever the hell is happening.

Worry stirs along the edges of your mind. Is Joel okay? Sarah? Tommy? You can’t call him, you can only run and hope nothing takes you down in your effort to get back to your car. You pass people crouched over others, blood smearing along their lips as they tear unforgivingly into the flesh of another.

It’s a nightmare, and it’s everywhere you look.

Almost there.

You see the sign of the parking lot and it only makes you run that much faster, even though your legs threaten to give out at any minute. You pass an elderly man crouching beside a woman, blood flowing from the open gash on her throat, and the ache clutching your heart only increases when his pleas reach your ears over the mayhem.

“Gloria,” he mutters in an aged rasp, “up you get, love. You’re alright, come on now—”

You can’t help it.

Somewhere in your mind you can feel Joel screaming at you to keep running, to get yourself to safety and not give a damn about anyone other than Matthew, but the image of this man cradling his wife’s wrinkled, bloodied hand is enough to get you advancing to him before anyone could hurt him. 

“Sir—”

He ignores you, too busy with brushing the woman’s blood soaked white hair from her face.

“Sir, we have to move—”

You wrap your fingers around his shoulder and shake firmly. His head gives a shake of denial as he clutches his wife’s hand tighter.

“No… no, she’ll need help—she has a bad ankle.”

Shifting Matthew unsteadily onto your hip, your fingers wrap under his arm and tug him onto his feet. He fights you, bats your hold away with an infuriated expression at your rough handling of him.

“I’m so sorry, but she’s gone—we have to run. I—I have a car, please… just come with me, please!”

“I won’t leave her—”

“Please… they’re coming! I—would she want this for you? To die like this?”

He blinks, his frown softening ever so slightly before screams pierce the air, much closer than you anticipated, and terror claws up your throat until you feel you’ll vomit.

You hold out a hand, relieved when his own rough, calloused hand finally takes it, and then you’re running, albeit slower than before, but you make it to your car with no issues.

You dive into the driver's seat, passing Matthew over to the stranger when he makes an impatient gesture to hold him and then you’re tearing out of the lot, running down the few rabid looking beings that advance on you with bloodied expressions of hunger.

You don’t think you take a proper breath until you’re past a military barricade that had seemingly been destroyed in the attack, flying down the highway and around other panicked drivers with sweat slicking your skin. 

Taking a deep breath to slow the brutal pounding of your heart, you look at Matthew, now calmed and looking up at the stranger with an obvious shine of curiosity. The old man is clearly softened by the baby, letting his small hand wrap around his finger and wiggling it playfully in his hold.

“That’s Matthew,” you mutter shakily, meeting the eyes of the elderly man before gazing back out the windscreen. You take another breath before giving your own name, tears biting at your eyes when you utter the name Miller.

Do you still have a husband? A step daughter? A brother in law? The unknown scares you, outright fucking terrifies you. 

The man nods in your peripheral vision.

“Harold,” he finally says, voice rough and tired.

—

There are people everywhere, screaming, crying.

People run, shout, wail over family and friends.

Tears have long dried on his face, his head thumping relentlessly with the remnants of his heartbreak. Tommy’s grip is firm on him, tugging him out of the way of people tearing down in their direction, pulling him to where a makeshift table is thrust under a tent as a reception of sorts.

He doesn’t care about the people already there asking about their family and friends. He shoves them out of the way, hands shaking as they clutch the edge of the weak table.

“I’m lookin’ for a woman… she’d be with a baby boy, not even four months old—”

His voice shakes. He can’t get it to stop. He struggles to get out the detailed descriptions of you both down to the clothes you were wearing, speaking your names through trembling lips. His stomach jolts at the thought of you somewhere, lying helplessly on the floor with your flesh getting torn into while Matthew screams in his car seat.

He’s a damn baby. He wouldn’t know what’s happening, wouldn’t know why his mama’s not there with him—

The woman gives a small expression of sympathy over the thin surgical mask covering her mouth, “I’m sorry, sir. We’ve had no babies that young come through, and nothing like that has come in over the radios.”

He retches. 

His body heaves, almost as if it’s rejecting the mere idea that you weren’t somewhere safe waiting for him. He had failed. Failed to keep Sarah safe, failed to keep Matthew safe, you—the vows he had made now meant shit. He hadn’t been there for better or worse. He’d hadn’t done what a father should have and kept his kids free from harm.

Sarah had died, terrified and in agony, in his hold. Her bloodied handprints remain dry and caked on his arms. Matthew had died, not even making it to six months. A baby, still fresh to the world, only just able to hold his own head up. You had died, not knowing where he and Sarah were, if they were even safe.

Tommy hauls him to a close trash can, rubbing a firm hand up and down his back as he chokes on vomit, tears soon streaming down his cheeks when his body eventually has nothing left to give. His heart hammers in his chest, thundering against his ribs and filling his ears until he’s unaware of the noises around him. 

“They’re gone,” he whispers hoarsely, clutching at the rim of the trash can in an effort to keep himself up.

“Now we don’t know that—”

“God damn it, Tommy, you saw what it was like out there!” 

Tommy sighs, his own eyes filling with tears. “We gotta keep hope, Joel—”

“Hope?” Joel spits at his brother, “What good is hope against that shit out there? She would’ve been alone, you know as well as I Matthew only would’ve slowed her down. They were in the city. We couldn’t even keep safe out here! They’re—they’re gone. My wife… my baby boy, my baby girl—”

The sobs tear from his chest, harsh and painful. He mourns for hours, unseeing of the flurried movement still happening around him, his sorrow mixing with the flood of agony filling the makeshift safe zone with every new unhurt civilian looking for someone familiar.

Tommy doesn’t take his arms away from around his brother until dawn starts to pierce the horizon, 

—

Two years later.

He still fills your thoughts daily.

Your life, your old life, would flash behind your eyelids at night when sleep would finally claim you. You’d feel his touch, kiss his lips, touch his face. It all felt so normal. The dreams would be nothing but memories, and somehow, it made them feel more like nightmares.

Mornings making breakfast with Sarah, dancing to the music falling from the radio. Family game nights, watching Tommy and Joel get more and more competitive with each game. Grocery shopping with Joel, simply wandering down the aisles and relishing in his comforting touch warming your lower back. 

You could never quite make peace with the possibility that he was dead. It didn’t sit right. The idea that your Joel had been lost to the disaster that had claimed the world just seemed impossible. Your heart rejected the notion, refused to accept that its counterpart wasn’t somewhere out there, living, breathing, surviving,

Sarah and Tommy, too.

They had to be somewhere, holed up safely and keeping well. They had to.

“They’ve established a quarantine zone close by,” you say quietly, mindful of Matthew sleeping on your lap, “it’ll be a lot safer there than out here. I think we should give it a go… find a more secure place to live. I’ve heard they have work available, good flow of food and medicine…”

Harry snorts quietly, shifting under his old, thick jacket, “That doesn’t mean they’re happy giving it out. There’ll be a catch somewhere.”

You eye the long carved frown in his features and lean forward to fix the blanket covering his tired legs, “Don’t you think we should try at least?”

“Maybe they’ll put a bullet in me,” Harry grumbles moodily, “I’m old—I can’t work like they’ll want me to. Although, it’ll beat living through this bloody nightmare any longer.”

“Harold,” you chide softly, heart aching at the thought of losing the grumpy old man after spending so long by his side.

He’d quickly become a grandfather figure of sorts, to both you and Matthew. The little boy was obsessed with him, and had been since the day you had come together, and though he tried to hide it behind his usual icy facade, Harry was smitten, weak from the boy learning to call him pa.

“He’ll be safer in there,” Harry finally grumbles, gazing at the sleeping toddler. “This is no life for him out here. It’s getting worse and worse. Stability will do him good.”

“And you’ll come with us?”

He sighs sharply, crossing his arms over his chest. “Fine—I’ll come. But if they don’t kill me, I’ll be bloody upset with you.”

You snort in amusement, a grin curling your lips. “Fair enough. Now drink your soup.”

“I’m not hungry. You have it.”

He shoves it away, pushing it in your direction, as he usually does. It’s a daily fight—him refusing food in favour of giving you and Matthew more, ensuring you both never went hungry despite his own hunger and rapid weight loss due to the sudden lack of food.

You give him a playful frown and hold the small cup out to him.

“Don’t make me force feed you, old man, drink it.”

—

The walls of the Quarantine Zone are a lot more daunting than you had originally thought they would be. They tower high, and the barely there movement of soldiers along the front and top of it have nerves start to build in the pit of your stomach.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea. Surely they wouldn’t shoot without asking questions? Would they even give you a chance? What happens to you if the zone is full? Would they let you go on your merry little way?

God, you feel sick. 

The ice creeping along your skin doubles, and you tighten your grip on the baby carrier strapped to your chest. Matthew hums quietly against your back, his little fingers tracing random patterns along your shirt as he bounces with your each step. Harry walks somewhat steadily beside you, his cheeks reddening with the more distance you cover.

He gives you a reassuring nod when you look to him for guidance, and you continue forward, swallowing the lump building in your throat when you become aware of them yelling about your presence.

Their guns are raised when you eventually make it closer, and it’s automatic to throw your hands up in surrender.

“We’re not infected!” you shout, hoping they’d listen. 

A soldier steps forward. “On the ground, now!”

“Shit. Okay! Please, I—we’re not infected—”

“Get. On. The. Ground!”

“I have a kid! I have a—please, we’re not—”

“Get the kid out.”

Panic flares to life in your chest. You fight the tremble in your fingers as they raise to the clip across your chest, winding a supportive hand around to your back to keep Matthew from falling out of the carrier as it loosens from your torso.

After a bit of shifting, Matthew stands on shaky legs, his eyes darting between you and the few soldiers with their weapons raised.

“It’s okay, baby,” you soothe softly, “we gotta do what the man says, okay? Can you do that for mama?”

You continue to lower until your front hits the rubble covered ground, and you motion for Matthew to do the same, heart breaking as he cowers in fear and falls to his knees before copying your posture and hiding his face against the road.

More voices fill your ears, the obvious presence of more soldiers swarming from the gate causing your pulse to skyrocket as Harry lowers on the other side of the small toddler.

“Check ‘em.”

“Everything’s fine,” you murmur, keeping your gaze on Matthew and smiling when he peeks at you from between his fingers, “we’re okay. Keep your eyes on me, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay.”

It stings.

You automatically flinch away from the device someone holds at your neck, freezing when more weapons are raised in your direction. The device gives a small beep and the soldier gives a loud clear, before moving for Matthew.

He cries out at the pain, his chest heaving with his growing sobs. The guns move in his direction and you’re flying towards him before you can even think, yelping when arms pull you away from your baby before you can console him. His screams worsen. 

“Please,” you beg, “he’s just a baby—!”

The soldiers remain emotionless.

Another beep, another clear.

The fingers digging into your arms loosen and then you’re free, hurriedly crawling on all fours until Matthew’s in your arms, his tear stricken face pressing into your throat. You soothe him softly, murmuring how well he did and that he’s safe with you while the soldiers move their attention to Harry.

When the device gives a final clear, another soldier steps forward, a small smile stretching his lips.

“Sorry about that,” he says, stepping forward until he’s only a step away, “but we can’t be too careful.”

It’s surreal being around people again.

For the longest time, it’s just been you, Matthew and Harry. The people left after the event had turned cruel, desperate for any remaining resources and resulting to violence left, right and centre. It’d been sheer luck that you three had escaped some of the nastier characters you’d come across during your treks. Sure, you’d lost a few supplies every now and then, but you were thankful you all were still here at least.

The man leads you into an office of sorts, with rusted old chairs to sit on while he goes about ‘registering’ you. You’re surprised at the process of it all, confused when he says you’re in luck because after this morning, there are new rooms available. What does that mean? Had something happened to the occupants?

Your stomach turns, but you dare not dwell on it.

Safety for Matthew, that’s all that matters. That’s why you’re here.

It feels like hours before you’re stepping into the sun again, lead out onto a relatively normal looking street with written directions to your new accommodation. The door bangs loudly behind you, fully closing you from the horrors of the outside world, and you try not to focus on the looks of curiosity, borderline hostility, as you start to walk further into the QZ, the height of the wall casting a large shadow over your path.

There’s a main square of sorts, filled with small stations of people selling various items. Your stomach grumbles at the sight of shitty looking food, desperate to eat something other than the random old bits and pieces you’d find through your looting, but you’d have to begin work to even afford a single half burnt bread roll. The two ration cards you had received at your ‘registration’ wouldn’t make a dent in what you’d need to afford any of it.

You pass the sellers, sharing a sullen look with Harry as he too realises he wouldn’t have enough for any of it.

There’s crowds, and you try to keep to yourself as you move, but something catches your eye, as if your sight had been automatically pulled to that direction and you’re oblivious to the people bumping into your frame.

For a moment, you’re sure you’re dreaming.

Did they end up shooting you at the gate? This couldn’t be real, couldn’t be unfolding right before your very eyes. You feel alive. You feel your pulse, your breath. You feel Matthew shift in the carrier, you hear Harry making comments about the people and the surrounding buildings.

You can’t look away.

You’re pulled in his direction, certain with every bone in your body that it’s him. It’s him.

The man turns, and his eyes are meeting yours through the crowds before you can even brace for it, and you see the moment it hits him.

He freezes, his eyes unblinking as if they don’t want to risk losing the hallucination his mind had conjured. He steps forward, and again, and again, slow in his movements, cautious.

“Joel?” You breathe, knowing he wouldn’t be able to hear you over the bustle of your surroundings and the distance between you, but he must see your lips mould his name because then he’s running, ducking through the people and heading straight your way.

You start to jog, careful not to disturb the carrier holding Matthew too much, and then he’s there. He’s there and he’s real and he’s saying your name so sweetly, a broken rasp of disbelief and a tremble taking over his hands as they raise to cup your cheeks.

You sob at his touch. 

The tears flow from your eyes and you grasp at whatever you can on him, your fingers tightening around the jacket hanging from his frame as you attempt to pour two years of loss into your embrace. He cradles the back of your head, keeps your face pressed tightly against the dirtied skin of his throat as he mutters brokenly about how he thought you were dead and that he’d missed you so damn much.

“Oh baby boy,” he rumbles, noticing the baby carrier and the toddler within it with tears filling his lash line, “look at you.”

You hurriedly unclip the harness and sweep Matthew out of it, bringing him into the middle of your embrace. Joel runs a hand along Matthew’s cheek before sweeping down and kissing him on the forehead, his tears dropping over the toddler’s cheeks in obvious relief and utter joy. 

“How—”

You shake your head, nuzzling into the rough hand holding your cheek. “Later. We’ll talk later about everything, I just—god, I’ve missed you so fucking much, Joel.”

His head lowers until his forehead is pressed against yours, and his eyes flutter closed. You feel it in the simple gesture, how much he had missed you, mourned for you. He gives a small nod, followed by a quiet okay, before another presence suddenly makes themselves known.

Your body jolts with the weight hitting your side, and you jump in fright before your eyes come across a slightly skinny looking Australian Shepherd desperate for attention.

His tongue lolls from his mouth as he attempts to lap at your cheek, and you chuckle through your stream of steady flowing tears at the cheerful dog.

“Chip,” Joel grunts in slight annoyance, shoving the fluffy beast away from where he tries to jump and sniff at Matthew’s cheeks, “down—down, boy!”

“You have a dog?” You ask in curiosity, reaching out to pet the animal. Your smile widens when he eagerly nuzzles into your touch with an excited whine.

“He was wanderin’ the QZ when I came in,” Joel replies, one of his hands leaving your waist to deliver a rough rub to the dogs head, “followed me home one night and hasn’t stopped botherin’ me since. Tommy said he’d be good for me.”

“Tommy’s here? And Sarah?” You perk immediately in excitement, your eyes flying past his shoulder to look for his brother and the other part of your heart that’s been missing for years. “I’m so glad they’re alright, where are they?”

You don’t notice how considerably quiet he’s gone until you look at him. He’s defeated, guarded, his dark eyes drawn to the floor. He can’t look at you. Why can’t he look at you? What’s happened?

“Joel?”

“Sarah… she—she—”

He struggles to finish the sentence, the words stick uncomfortably on his tongue. His features twist in clear anguish and you feel the world around you shatter. Sarah, she… she’s gone? When? How?

Your heart sinks, weak and broken by the unexpected news. Your mind struggles to wrap itself around the notion that you’d never see her again, that the last time you saw her was truly the last. 

Regret begins to build in the pit of your stomach. That last day… you should’ve hugged her tighter, kissed her forehead, told her how much she meant to you and how lucky you were to be in her life—

The tears begin again.

“Oh Joel, I-I’m so sorry,”

You both share the heartache, wrapped in each other's arms and breathing in the other. His tight hold doesn’t loosen for a second, and you attempt to put every ounce of energy in your tired body into returning it.

The world stands still, just like it did that cursed day.

How can you be so elated that he’s here, and yet be filled with so much pain at the same time? How long has he been lost, no doubt blaming himself for his baby girl not making it to where he is now? You mourn her, mourn him for being lost, stuck on a path of despair and believing he had lost everything for so long.

What had become of him? What had the pain done to him? Surely it would’ve been pure torture for the man who practically breathed family. 

Harry can wait. Introductions can wait. Food, drink, sleep—you care for none of it. Not now. All that matters is that Joel is here, truly here in the flesh, wrapped in your arms and holding the child he hasn’t seen for two years. All that matters is that you had found one another in the violent hellscape the world had become.

Peace, but that tranquillity will forever be tainted by loss, a void hanging in the midst of relief, never to be filled again.

-

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tags that have continuously not worked will be deleted from my taglist soon x

[sarahreesbrennan]

Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

[vivalarevolution]

𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓸𝓯 𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓪𝓭𝓪𝓷

Paul Atreides x Reader

Request: „Paul Atreides falling in love with his father's younger wife, whom he recently married for political reasons, yet he remains loyal and in love with Jessica.‟

A/N: Request from anon. A very interesting concept that I thoroughly enjoyed writing. As always, I hope you will like reading my work, especially since this is my first attempt at writing for Paul Atreides.

Please remember that english is not my native language and mistakes might happen.

She reminded him of a goddess , a being from ancient books that survived the destruction of Old Terra. She was beautiful like Aphordite , full of warmth as Hestia and innocent and sensitive as Persephone. Yet her eyes were full of sadness , like those belonging to Oizys.

And the young duke hated it.

He hated her sadness. The sadness which was caused by his own father. Leto Atreides married her , but there was no love between them , there was only darkness and misery that was draining the young woman from the inside. In Paul's eyes, his father's actions were cruel. He did not deserve such a delicate soul , and much less he deserve it to destroy it.

He tried , almost desperately , to understand the man when his eyes followed him with his own mother , but in vain. Because he loved the woman he could not have too much to forgive him for what he did to her.

So he stopped. He stopped looking for forgiveness , which never existed.

Instead, he surrendered to the arms of forbidden desire , surrendered to the feelings he had been hiding so deeply inside himself, surrendered to her will without her even knowing.

His shadow began to follow hers, her steps became his steps , her breath became his breath.

And suddenly Paul Atreides became everything to her that his father never was. He became her protector , her rock , her guardian , her savior.

But that wasn't enough for him. He wanted more. He had to have more.

He found her in her chambers , she was sitting on one of the many cushions, reading. But when she felt a presence behind her she stopped , turning her head to the side , looking out of the corner of her eye at the young duke.

-Paul - she said softly , turning fully in his direction - What brings you to me? - she asked him , closing the book , which suddenly no longer seemed interesting to her.

He didn't answer , not immediately.

But as the silence lengthened between them , the tension begin to grow as well.

-I want you - he replied suddenly , and despite the seriousness of the sentence his voice was composed , remarkably calm.

-What? - the woman whispered, shocked.

His words seemed to cut through the air like the sharpest knife, leaving behind a mark that was impossible to erase.

-I want you - he repeated , slowly approaching her figure.

She watched his movements , stopping only when the brunet kneeled before her.

-But you already have me - she said , placing her hand on his pale cheek.

Paul grabbed her wrist and closed his eyes allowing her addictive scent to dull his senses.

-Not in the way I would have wanted - he confessed , tasting her soft skin with his lips.

At his words, the woman pulled her hand from his hold , moving away from her husband's son.

-We can't. You know it's forbidden - she announced, furrowing her eyebrows.

-I know - he responded , getting up from his knees to approach her yet again - But no matter how cruel the truth is , my father does not love you , he never will. And I hate him for it, I hate him for marrying a woman he is not able to love.

-The world has always been cruel Paul. You cannot change it , you are in no position to. You are not a god - she said with a shadow of sorrow in her voice , feeling tears involuntarily flow into her eyes.

-But I can change the part of the world you belong to.There will be no more misery , no more pain - he declared, approaching her , trapping her between the wall and himself.

-Don't say that. I am begging you , don't say that - she whispered , closing her eyes, trying to push the brunet away from her, but to no avail.

The man kissed her cheekbones , nuzzling his face into her thick locks.

-Tell me the truth - he asked , but was met with silence - Tell me the truth - he repeated , but his voice no longer sounded familiar.

-I love you more than life itself Paul. I'm willing to die if it means I can taste your lips, even for a slight moment - she admitted, but although her words were sincere, it seemed to her as if someone pulled them out of her, without her permission.

-And I love you - he said - And believe me when I say this. I will never stop loving you. My love for you will only cease to exist when the sun will rise in the west and set in the east , when the seas go dry and mountains will blow in the wind like leaves.

-One day , you will regret those words Paul Atreides - she professed , feeling her breathing become more shallow and her eyes more clouded.

-Never - he growled , before attacking her full, pink lips.

His kisses were the opposite of him. They were burning , chaotic , dangerous.

But despite this , she desperately grabbed his shoulders , trying to pull him closer and closer. Their hands traveled over each other's bodies , as their lips tasted one another, never having enough. They seemed to have forgotten about everything except themselves.

Suddenly the mortal world no longer existed. There was no fear , sadness , or despair. In their place came lust , desire and love. Feelings that were forbidden to them.

But they didn't stopped.

They didn't stop when their bodies merged into one. They didn't stop when the first rays of sun appeared on the walls of her chambers.

They didn't stop because there was nothing strong enough to separate Paul Atreides from his goddess.

[gilverrwrites]

You want my groupie love

Ft. Dick, Jason, Roy, and Wally 400-500 words each Request: Anon requested any of the above finding out you have a crush on their hero alter-ego. I did all of em cause I've been looking for an excuse to sink my teeth into some fluffy rambling! Warnings: Swearing | Alcohol | Secrets | Non-graphic mentions of violence  

Dick: Hey Neighbour

Dick could easily see how the new mailman switching up your post so often could get annoying, especially considering his busy schedule. However, he just couldn't bring himself to be upset over anything that gives him an excuse to see you. Admittedly, he's pushing it today, ringing your buzzer so early in the morning but the moment you open the door, revealing the most adorable bedhead and an oversized Nightwing shirt, he can't bring himself to care.

“Nice shirt.” He offers, but he's not certain you understand as you stare at him with squinted eyes and pouty lips.

“You want something?” Your voice is low and slow, thick with sleep but still hot as hell.

He wants you. “Yeah, um, my parcel says delivered but it's not! I just wondered if maybe they left it with you again?”

You continue to stare at him blankly for a moment longer before recognition seems to click in those pretty eyes.

“Oh yeah, sorry,” you murmur as you grab his mail from somewhere behind the door and hand it to him. Together you go through the polite thanks and no problem motions, but when you're done, he can't bring himself to leave. Maybe this is the day he finally asks you out.

“Do you- “

“Are you- “

You talk over each other, and then you dance around it until you finally win out the no you go argument.

“Do…” He’s about to ask when a thought pops into his head. That oversized tee is very oversized. “Is that your boyfriend's top?”

“I don't have a boyfriend.” You confirm, nervously playing with the hem and accidentally revealing a hint of your Nightwing sleep shorts.

“Just a big Nightwing fan, huh?” He's not sure why he's pushing it, something about the notion makes him feel good.

“You could say that.” You reply hesitantly. Your eyes flicker from him, back into your apartment a few times before you open your door. Nothing could have prepared Dick for the sight before him. Your living room was chockful of Nightwing merch; pillowcases, replica wing-dings, figurines, Blüd postcards with his likeness on them to name a few. Some are licensed, but most are not. There's a very real moment in which the blood drains from him, and he's concerned that he should be worried about you and your intention before you explain. “I kind of went on a big dumb rant about how Nightwing was snubbed for The Sexiest Hero Alive award a few years ago, and my friends have never let me forget about it. Now everyone and their dog buys me his merch for my Birthday and whatnot. I just can't bring myself to throw any of it out.”

“Ohhh.” That's a relief. His unease is replaced with twice as much giddiness. Sexiest Hero Alive, huh? He hadn’t cared that much about the award, but he cares that you care. “I’d love to hear more if by any chance you wanna grab breakfast together?

Jason: On the news

Jason is already sat in your usual spot when you arrive at the café, he even went ahead and got your usual order. The $12 was worth it for the look of gratitude and reprieve on your face as you collapse into the chair across from him.

“Thank you for ordering for me! I’ll send you the money.” Once you catch your breath you dive into your drink, moaning aloud at the flavour in a way that has him averting his gaze and shifting in his seat. He prays you don’t notice the heat in his face as he tells you not to worry about it, Bruce can afford it anyway.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” You continue. “Apparently Red Hood and some of Two-Face’s guys got into some kind of turf war near the bank last night, and police have shut the whole block down.”

“Oh, that sucks.” He grunts, pretending like he doesn’t already know.

“Right! So annoying. Red Hood gets a pass though, 'cause he’s hot.”

Jason actually chokes on his coffee, narrowly missing you with his spray as you lean away from him. Before you can even ask if he’s okay, he’s grilling you.

“He’s hot? How do you know he’s hot? You’ve never met the guy!” It’s an instinctive response, maybe a little paranoid, and though he doesn’t mean to, he’s definitely selling some kind of jealousy angle right now.

“No, but I’ve seen him on the news, and in the papers.” You explain. “He’s got that kind of, cool, mysterious, badass thing going on, you know? With the helmet, and leather, oh and the motorbike! And the voice!”

Maybe he shouldn’t have asked. If he wasn’t flustered before, he definitely is now. Some badass. “B-but you don’t know what he looks like.”

“I know he’s good-looking. ‘An I bet he’s a nice person, under all that tough guy exterior.” You state decidedly. “I feel it in my bones, and my… I’m not gonna finish that sentence.”

You both laugh, yours is more light-hearted. Like music to his heated ears. Jason feels like you reached into his chest and started tweaking at his heartstrings. He might not seem it externally, but he’s thrilled. This is a step in the right direction for your more-than-friends-not-quite-lovers-relationship, he thinks.

“I’m just saying, if the opportunity ever arose; Red Hood could get it.”

He just has to figure out what the next move is.

Roy: Prince Charming

When he’d gotten done saving your life from some back-alley thief a few nights prior, you’d thanked him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and Roy had seriously considered never washing that cheek again. But, he’d figured you wouldn’t want to kiss him ever again, hero or no if he stank. So, he’d scrubbed up and trimmed before picking up the pizza and heading to your place for your bi-weekly movie night.

When you open the door there’s a far-off look in your eye and a dreamy smile on your lips that he could certainly get used to.

“You okay?” He asks, making no attempt to hide his amusement as he stands in your kitchen, smothering his fries with ketchup and watching you stare off into space, swaying your hips like a puppy dog who can't control their tail.

“Yeah.” You answer, only half snapping back into the present moment, a sheepish, excited look on your face as you grab your share of the food and head for the couch. “I got mugged.” You call back, like it’s nothing. Playfully baiting a reaction from him that he’ll have to fake because he already knows.

“No- oh shit! Are you okay?” He leans in close as he sits beside you on the couch, pretending to examine you for injuries, but actually using it as an excuse to savour your scent.

“Yeah.” You turn to him so that your noses brush together, and he has to will himself not to blush at the proximity. You’d always had a bit of a flirtationship going, but that didn’t mean you didn’t still get under his skin when you had that tenacious look on your face. “I met the love of my life.”

“The love of your life mugged you?” He teases and you shake your head all cute and determined before leaning away to bite into your dinner.

“C’mon, who’s the lucky guy?” He goads, he has a feeling he knows where this is going, but he's trying not to get his hopes up.

You look at him like you’re thinking it over before confessing around a mouthful of food; “Arsenal.”

That’s fucking hilarious. He bites his lip to keep from laughing in your face.

“Arsenal.” He repeats. Is it hot in here? He feels exceedingly flush. “Huh, crazy.”

“Arsenal.” You say it again, this time like some Disney character swooning over their Prince Charming as you lean into his chest. It makes eating significantly harder, but he doesn’t care, lifting his arm and draping it over your shoulder, urging you closer. He’d starve it meant getting to hold you till he died. “He saved me.”

“No kidding.” You ghost a hand up and down his arm, and he enjoys the sensation too much to notice how your fingertips trace his exposed tattoos. This conversation might be the best thing that’s happened to him in ages. Second best. No, third best. Behind Lian being born and you kissing him. “But, ah, I thought I was the love of your life?”

You chew on his comeback for a minute, and he enjoys immensely how you try not to grin as your eyes dart around while you think up a response. “Guess you’ll have to share me.”

Roy Harper, share you with Arsenal? He could definitely live with that.

Wally: Fuck, marry, kill

“Okayokayokay. Fuck, marry, kill.” His words all string together in an excited jumble. He’s totally buzzing, and not from the booze. It’s never the booze, he metabolises it too fast. No, his excitement is entirely caused by you. You and your proximity, your smiling face, and your hypnotic laugh. “Nightwing, Tempest, and The Flash? Go!”

“Oh, well that entirely depends.” You reply matter-of-factly, and Wally watches admiringly as you take a sip of your drink, licking the rim when a drop spills over. Damn, he wishes you’d put your lips on him like that.

“Depends on what?” He finally asks when he remembers it’s his turn to speak, and you bite your lip for a second as if considering whether you should say what you’re about to say.

Eventually, you commit. “Are we talking Central City Flash, or Keystone?”

You watch him expectantly while he sips his own drink, waiting for his clarification. He’s glad that the difference matters to you but he can’t help challenging you, partly to keep up the clueless civilian shtick, but mostly because he wants to prolong the conversation. He wants to hear you say ‘The Flash’ a million more times. “You’re so sure they’re not the same guy? Could be running back and forth really fast. That’s his whole thing, right?”

“Nah.” You shake your head, a self-assured smile on your face. You don’t even entertain the idea, and he wonders what has you so confident but he doesn’t have to wait long to find out. “Central Flash is cool and all, but I’m in loooooove with Keystone Flash.” You giggle as you declare it.

This is brand new information to Wally, and it takes him a moment to process it. His cheeks must be as red as his suit as he watches you melt into your seat, thinking about him The Flash.

“Have you ever met the guy?” He’s pretty certain he knows the answer already.

“No.” You confess shyly, but it doesn’t stop your next, very bold statement. “He doesn’t know it yet, but we’re gonna get married one day.”

“Really?” He’s grinning from ear to ear, like the cat whose canary landed right in his bowl and started chirping ‘EAT ME! EAT ME!’

The feet of his chair scrape on the floor as he shuffles closer, and even though he’s not ‘your future husband’, you let him close the distance, happily voicing your answer to his original question and his most recent. “Yep. If it’s Keystone, can I say fuck and marry The Flash?”

“Yeah, totally, I’ll accept that answer.” Wally blurts, making no effort to hide his elation as he places his hand atop yours. “You know, I’ve been told that I’m a lot like The Flash.”

Please remember, do things that make you happy!

[deadghosy]

Hear me out

What about a moth! reader

Like the moth from sky! Children of the light that likes to fly around the hotel and honk at people sense they can't speak

And them giving candles as a way to ask"do you wanna be friends??"

(this is my first time ever requesting something so sorry if it doesn't make sense, feel free to ignore this く⁠コ⁠:⁠彡)

……ANON MARRY ME RN CAUSE I USE TO PLAY THE HELL OUT OF THAT GAME!! RN MARRY ME

HAZBIN HOTEL X MOTH COTL! READER

prompt: a cute moth character enters the ring of hell due to a malfunction of the realms

STORY MODE: you were celebrating days of love as your ikemen softly puts a flower crown on your head as you honk happily. You hugged the Ikemen as he hugs you back, lifting you for a hug spin as he chuckles lowly.

He lifted you on his back as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. He pointed towards the valley realm as they wanted to celebrate your one year anniversary together. You started to spam honk excitedly as the Ikemen nods and runs into the realm. But something went wrong.

END OF STORY MODE: You just stand there as you smell blood and fire in the air. You were confused as you didn’t see your beloved Ikemen anywhere which made you honk out loud…you didn’t see their name either. You inhaled all the air you could and let out a big HONK! That got you the attention of a fellow moth man who smirked behind you. You jolted with a quick honk as Valentino poked your mask. “My my my~ what a cute little thing you are.” Valentino says picking you up like a child.

You didn’t want to die so immediately you pulled out your candle. That made Valentino drawn to the candle as he squeaks happily at the candle and take it. Before Valentino could talk to you, an arm grabbed you and sped away.

Who was the culprit who took you, it was Angel dust in his pink scooter. (A/n: don’t question the scooter) Angel heard that big ass honk and a light as he was curious and went to go look for it only to see you shaking in Valentino’s hold. He didn’t want to save you, but your small frame was shaking and he couldn’t stand it so he had to save you.

And now you are part of the hotel’s crew as they greet you with open arms.

Angel loves you dearly, you immediately warmed up to him giving him a bright white candle as his eyes shined at the light of the candle shaping like a heart. So when Angel took it and it dissolved in his hands. You were so happy you kept spam hugging him.

You literally follow all the members like a first time moth, holding out a candle as you want more friends!

Fat nuggets just oinks and follows you. You pet the cute demon pig who licks your hand back

CHARLIE LOVESSS YOUU😭💗 she picked you up and you honk hugging her back.

Vaggie admires you as well. You seem like a reliable person to bring hopes up.

Lucifer adores you..I mean you are just so affectionate. He immediately accepted the candle and he lifted you up. Kissing your head and gushing over you with tears yelling “I WANNA ADOPT THEM!”

I headcannon Charlie and Lucifer debating which color scheme suits you better as they try to take off your brown moth cape as you honk at them.

I always headcannon skykid moths to be at least like 4’9 and every time they gain winged light they get taller. 🦆✨but since you aren’t in the Sky cotl universe, you are so small so literally they treat you like a kid.

You know like your light decreases when a dark creature hits it or like basically darkness. (Especially during that damn fire trial😐) I can imagine moth! Reader having a night light that Lucifer made you with a duck light shining on the ceiling so you feel safe.

Husk doesn’t even understand what the fuck you are doing by honking at him and following him around constantly with a bright ass white candle.

Husk eventually accepted the candle which made you hug him alot..and oddly husk liked it. Now you gained a drunk uncle.

BIG HEADCANNON THAT VALENTINO WILL TRY TO ADOPT YOU, BUT ANGEL IS DEAD ASS SHAKING HIS HEAD NO AS THE OTHER CREW MEMBERS PROTECT YOU FROM THE GRASP OF THIS MOTH DEMON

As you kept getting adopted by random people, your ikemen was going around every season area asking other skykids have they seen you as he has a missing poster of you….poor Ikemen looks down seeing the flower bracelet you made him.

Back to you as you are making the whole crew paper bracelets thanks to Charlie’s trust exercises and activities.

I can see sir Pentious and you getting along to the point sir Pentious is like a caretaker when you don’t have anyone to be with. Even his egg boiz love to hang with you. Even if they don’t understand you.

You one time big honked and every light flickered since a ring of light was around you. So now the cast is little bit cautious at how “powerful” you are

Alastor would think you eat human/sinner meat as he would bring it to you, noting you don’t eat anything. 😭 DO YOU GUYS KNOW THAT GAGGING CAT?! THATS YOU WHEN YOU SMELT THE MEAT-

Alastor was so offended but he should’ve guessed that you weren’t a cannibal.

Niffty was teaching you how to clean and you accidentally drank bleach making niffty literally chase you around worried as you run.

You actually one time lost your light as you were crouched on the floor. Immediately Lucifer grabbed you up scared that you were dying as your body got out of the state and into your regular appearance.

Tbh Lucifer thought you was a scary demon crawling for your life, until you honked is when he realized it was his moth friend.

You fly around honking as you help razzle and dazzle with putting up banners. Razzle and dazzle pick you up if you don’t have enough energy to fly. You guys are flying buddies is what I headcannon.

I imagine husk is sleeping and you glide down from the stairs as you honk softly in his ear to wake him up. He grumbles at first so you decided to do a big honk. You inhaled as a ring of light surrounds the place as the honk rings out in the hotel.

“GAH!” Husk yells falling off the couch grabbing you as he thought you were trouble to only find out there wasn’t no problems. He grumbles angrily at you.

You once flew down like Batman and Angel recorded it founding it adorable.

Charlie had noticed you like to collect candles so she bought a stack of candles which made your eye light up and immediately run to your room with them.

Your mask definitely falls off your face, so imagine the whole hotel’s cast reaction to your face just being completely black with eyelashes (bruh skykid’s eyelashes are so damn pretty and long 😭)

When you went with Charlie to meet with the angels, Adam raised a brow at you because he never seen a “demon” like you. But he didn’t feel any angelic or demonic energy off you.

“What’s up lil dude…where’s your mama?” Adam says teasing you as he pats your head while Charlie watching nervously. You just honk at him and pull out a big white candle. Lute and Adam glanced at each other as Adam took it. The candle dissolved into a circle as Adam felt warm. You honk happily and hugged him.

“So can I keep this little shit?” Adam says to Charlie. “WHAT NO?!-”

I headcannon you once did the backflip emote and they all applaud you like “oh wow!”

Alastor and Lucifer are the smart ones to try to get you to call them dad…but you just honk and hug them like a little child happy to see them.

Of course Valentino is blowing Angel’s phone asking him if he seen a moth like demon….

Lucifer made you a duck cape. Like the cape was heaven sky blue with duck patterns in it. He found it so cuteee! 🦆💗

You honked madly at fat nuggets as the pig had eaten up your brown cape making angel dust make you a pink cape. It was bedazzled and it didn’t look like the sakura or valley cape you see other skykids wore once

[midnighvtm4ss]

omg I feel like if anyone could write this right it’s going to be you. we need arthur FLUFF with a reader on her period!!!

RISES THE MOON

cw: fluff, toothaching fluff, period cramps, arthur is a sweetheart, please arthur marry me :( wrote this on my notes app, grammar errors

wc: 1,8k

a/n: this piece was so comforting to write aaa thank you anon for the request <33 i hope this will soothe anyone who’s having period pain rn, i suggest you listen to this song and this one, i had them on loop while writing this. This piece is shorter than the others but I think it suits the mood in a way,, idk ! enjoy!!

The last few notes of the sweet melody coming from Javier’s guitar floated quietly in the air.

The night had fallen gently over the camp, wrapping everything in a quiet, soothing stillness. The campfire flickered softly, casting a golden light on the nearby trees, creating a cozy circle of warmth for those near it. Most of the gang had long since retired for the night, leaving only the faintest murmur of voices in the distant watching post and the occasional pops and cracks of burning wood.

You stood near the fire, trying to find some relief from the chill in the air, but more than that, you were trying to ease the dull ache that spread through your body. The cramps had been like little devils on your lower belly throughout your day, starting as a minor constant discomfort but now growing into something more relentless, making you wince with every movement and your back aching with every step.

Your day was filled with chores left and right as some of the girls left camp and went into town under the request of various groceries items for Pearson’s wagon. You wanted to join them but unfortunately your body had other plans. You came up with a simple excuse and promised to go with them another time. You hadn’t mentioned the true cause to anyone—it was just your period, no need to alarm anyone after all—but now, at the end of the day, you were desperately ready to crawl into the comfort of your bed and hope the night might lend you some kind of relief.

Arthur had been finishing up his usual nightly chores, checking on the horses and bringing them fresh hay. He always had a fondness for horses, no matter if they were his or someone else’s. His love for them often found sketched freely in the various pages of his journal. As he made his way back from the hitching post his eyes scanned the surroundings, making sure the camp was in order for the night. His eyes, like magnets drifted to your figure near the campfire.

You could feel his eyes on you, catching the small signs of discomfort you tried so hard to hide behind your calm demeanor. But he noticed something was off, he always noticed. The way your hand kept drifting to hold your stomach, the subtle wince that crossed your face when you thought no one was looking—it didn’t slip past him.

The crunching sound of boots on dirt floated in the air making its way towards you. You knew who it was and you took a moment to regain yourself and put on a calm façade.

“Y’alright, darlin’?” The gentle rumble of his voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he came to sit down on the log beside you, his gaze full of quiet concern as he searched your face for any hint of discomfort.

“Sure,” You tried to smile through the ache, not wanting to make a fuss. “just a little sore from the day. It’s nothing.”

But Arthur wasn’t one to brush things off, especially when it came to you. He studied your face for a moment, his brow furrowing making a small expression line form between his brows in that familiar way that told you he wasn’t about to let it go. Without saying anything, he slipped a warm, steady hand to the small of your back, moving it in small comforting circles.

“Come on,” he sighted, his voice still soft but insistent. “Let’s go somewhere more comfortable.”

He guided you away from the fire and toward the tent. You didn’t argue. The idea of lying down, of finally resting, sounded too good to resist.

The two of you slipped into the quiet of the tent, Arthur hand left yours to go and close the front flap of the tent and light up the creaky old lantern on the makeshift bedside table, the lantern casting a soft glow over the familiar space.

The moment you sank down onto the bed, you let out a long sigh, curling up slightly to your side in an attempt to relieve some of the tension in your belly. But even then, the cramps persisted, growing stronger by the minute.

Arthur knelt beside the cot, his arms folded on the soft mattress watching with that careful, gentle intensity of his. He reached for the blanket, tucking it around you with a tenderness so far different from his usual hard front he put up with everyone. Then, without a word, he got up, kicking his boots away and settled down beside you, his large frame stretching out on the bedroll as he gently pulled you into his arms resting your head on his firm chest.

“You’re alright, sweetheart,” he whispered. His breath warm against your temple as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you higher against his chest.

You melted into him, resting your head against his chest, your body relaxing instantly in the comfort of his embrace. Arthur’s warmth surrounded you, his steady presence already making you feel better, more at ease. His hands, rough from all the manual work, moved with a soft, gentle care. One hand drifting under your nightgown towards your lower belly, the action far from sexual while the other moved to untangle your hair from the simple hairstyle you had for the day.

“That time of the month?”

You let out a muffled grumble against the fabric of his red union suit as an answer, making Arthur let out a small laugh.

“I can tell it’s hurtin’ you,” he said quietly, his voice low and soothing as his thumb began to rub slow, comforting circles over your stomach. “Let me help.”

You closed your eyes, letting out a soft breath as the warmth of his hand started to ease some of the ache. His touch was gentle, massaging your lower belly putting just enough pressure to soothe the tension without causing more discomfort. The pain didn’t go away completely, but the care in his movements, the way he held you, made your heart sing with joy making it easier to bear the pain.

“That’s better,” you whispered, your voice soft with relief. “Thank you.”

Arthur’s lips curved into a faint smile, though you could feel the ghost of worry still lingering in the way his hand moved over your belly, never stopping, never hesitating. “You don’t gotta thank me for takin’ care of you, darlin’,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’d do it every day if I had to.”

“Be careful of what you wish for, Mister. I might start to demand more if you spoil me”

“Oh I can’t wait,” he teased. “Forever at your service mylady.”

His words made your heart swell with warmth. Arthur wasn’t the type to shower you with flowery words or grand gestures, but it was in moments like these that his love showed itself at its truest form—in the quiet, steady way he was always there, making you smile, always looking out for you, even when you didn’t ask for it.

For a while, the two of you stayed like that, wrapped up in a cocoon of warmth. The moon rose higher in the sky and the outside world faded away. Arthur’s hand continued its slow, soothing movements, his touch tender and full of care, and little by little, the pain in your belly began to ease ever so slightly. You felt the tension melting away under the work of his hands, the cramps becoming a dull background ache rather than the sharp, insistent pain it had been just an hour ago.

“Y’know,” Arthur said after a long moment of comfortable silence, his voice a soft murmur in the quiet, “I remember Miss Grimshaw used to make me and John chamomile tea when we had stomach cramps.” his hands never stopped their movement.

“Marston used to drink a lot of it—that poor bastard always seemed to eat the nastiest shit he could find around,” he laughed lightly, reminiscing of the early days of the gang when a camp cook seemed such a privilege.

“Anyway, I can make you some if you want,”

You smiled against his chest, the simple thoughtfulness of his offer making your heart ache with affection. “That sounds nice,” you whispered, though truthfully, you were already feeling better just being in his arms.

“I don’t know how much it can be of help but it’s better than nothin’”

Arthur shifted slightly. “Stay put. I’ll be right back.”

Before you could protest for the lack of his warmth against you, he slipped out of the tent, moving with that same quiet efficiency he always had.

A few minutes passed, you were almost asleep when Arthur came back and with him the chill night breeze entered the tent waking you up.

“There,” he said softly, his deep voice full of quiet satisfaction as he sat the mug down the bedside table. He sat down beside you, pulling you up into a seated position before handing you the tin mug filled with the golden brown liquid. “This should hopefully help.”

You nestled into him, feeling the warmth of the mug and the steady, grounding presence of Arthur beside you. It was amazing how he could make everything feel better, just by being there—by holding you and letting you know, without words, that he was there for you.

A comforting silence fell on both of you as you drank your tea slowly, feeling your whole body relaxing with each warm sip you took.

After a while, the pain in your belly faded into the background, and you found yourself growing drowsy in the soft cocoon of warmth and care that Arthur had created around you. You laid down again and Arthur followed your action putting your head on his chest. His hand moved to your back, tracing lazy, soothing patterns there, his fingers brushing gently over your spine.

“Y’know there’s no need to hide when you’re hurtin’. You’re always helping everyone around, sometimes you gotta stop and look after y’rself.”

“Arthur,” you whispered, your voice full of sleep and gratitude. “I love you so much, I don’t deserve you.”

He huffed a soft laugh, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed another kiss to your temple. “Ain’t no such thing,” he murmured, “you deserve more than me.”

His words, so downgrading for himself yet full of love for you, made your heart ache in the best way.

“You’re everything I need,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as your eyelids grew heavy. As you drifted off to sleep, wrapped safely in Arthur’s arms, the pain and discomfort of the day faded away completely, replaced by the quiet, steady warmth of his love.

[anadiasmount]

moscow mule - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: a boat day in the beautiful city of miami ends handsy with your boyfriend who can’t get enough of you and your red bikini as you stroll around slowly to take in the city night…

masterlist | jude’s masterlist

psa 🗣️: ik i said tiny blurb but this had been on my mind after an anon requested!! who doesn’t love bf! jude?? 😛 tiny mature content, not in-depth smut though!! so small 18+ warning!! small insta au at the end 🤍

you smile widely sitting up and put your book away as you saw your boyfriend approach you. “you enjoyed yourself today?” he asked, hunching over you and kissed your knee, spreading your legs and came between them. “i certainly did. nothing could beat a nice day boat day full of drinks, food and swimming,” you said meeting jude in a small kiss midway.

“even if you almost drowned?” he joked making you laugh and cover your face embarrassed.

“hey! to be fair, i had no idea it would be that deep? one second we were in shallow water then boom, i couldn’t reach my tiptoes on the sand? it’s a good thing i had my night and shining armor there with me,” you said sarcastically remembering how jude jumped in and saved you while laughing hysterically.

“i literally warned you to be careful, then all i could see is you treading the water!” jude replied, pulling you up and sitting you on his lap, his hand slowly trailing your back and playing with the strings from your red bikini. “i panicked, hello! i was genuinely not prepared for that,” you giggled, stroking his cheek with your thumb and giving a tiny peck on his nose.

“i love when you do that,” jude admits with a shy smile. “good because im not gonna stop doing it,” you stick your tongue wanting to get up to retrieve some of the fruit you bought in the morning at the small market. “what are you doing? where you going?” jude asked you concerned pulling you back down with a tight grip.

“to get some mangos and pineapple for us,” you laugh but jude is quick to get up and retrieve it, bringing some water along as well. “drink some, you’ve been in the sun all day and i don’t want you to get dehydrated,” he says opening the top and handing it gently while he went to get some napkins. “here pretty girl.”

“thank you!”

now it was no surprise but all you could feel is his intense eyes roam as you stood up to remove the white coverup you had on. jude gulping heavily, almost choking on the piece of mango as you tied your hair back and adjusted your bikini. the dark red set that had him stressing and putting images in his head he didn’t need.

he was lost for words when you stepped out the restroom in the morning, wearing just that. watching how you applied sunscreen, your jewelry and fixed your hair. miami had gave you a different glow that radiated your essence so much. jude was starstruck every time he stared at you. in the morning when you slept, when you people watched, when you talked to him. he knew that he was the luckiest man alive.

“i can feel you staring…” you whisper, jude letting out a small smile. “can’t help it, you under this sun light? this bikini? you’re killing me here,” he chuckles nervously, slightly going back and resting his forearms on the couch bed, his eyes lowering as you toppled him. “am i now? who knew this would be making you feel like that…”

“you always do, i can’t ever deny that. but this miami glow is hitting different… especially this tiny bikini,” he tugged the middle part of the bra top, seeing how your breasts pushed in. you gasp, feeling your ears heat up as you gently slap his hand away, jude letting out a smirk. “jude! we’re in public!” you say with clenched teeth, looking around to see if anyone would be watching.

“so?”

“so that means we have to be careful. who knows who could be watching or listening, maybe even filming,” you express, situating yourself on his lap, as he offers you a piece of fruit. “no matter where we go we’re being watched, and it’s something we can’t do unless we play undercover and dress up,” jude shrugs his shoulders.

“i remember we did that back in madrid when i visited you during christmas. your fans were so confused,” your laughter gets loud thinking how the little kids were twisting their heads trying to see and recognize if it was jude or not. you had been dating for a year yet were still scared to go public, especially with jude growing rapidly at his current club. now you were at peace with terms and not scared of public. yet you were careful because one never knew.

“you don’t know how bad i needed this,” jude confessed, his hands running up and down your soft thighs, nails grazing softly as he did different motions. “everything happened so fast after the semifinal. i was off for a week and then shit went crazy. but i’m so grateful to be where i am today, especially with you,” his fingers tugged and played with the knot from your bottoms.

“jude…” you warn, a faint smile on your lips giving him a knowing look.

“seriously i feel like you wore this on purpose just to rile me up,” he squeezed your thighs, watching as you adverted your gaze to the water where you guys now roamed close the city. more open to the public eye. “you did didn’t you!” jude exclaimed, hopping up as he pulled you close and tickled your neck. “okay maybe! maybe! ok yes, yes i did!” you struggled to say as you kept laughing and squinting.

“i love seeing you in red,” jude said, noticing how those words affected you, your eyes boring into his as your wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “every color looks beautiful on you, but this certain red definitely is one of my favorites,” jude’s hands trailed down to your bum where he gently squeezed it. you sigh with a playful gaze, “why do i even try with you?”

“because you love me? and i’m hot.”

“whatever.”

you stayed like this for the rest of the city stroll, often getting side tracked and just watched the sun set till it became dark. the only lights on were from the piers and buildings. the whole scenery looking aesthetic and relaxing. jude and you played kid games like “i spy” “would you rather” “name the top” getting competitive especially when the uno cards came out.

you would take this over any day. the private and intimate moments with him. appreciating and showing each other the undeniable love you had together. knowing it could be hard because of the high maintenance jobs you had, but you always made it work. willing to put in the sacrifice and effort to ensure your relationship was healthy. it was never ever the bare minimum.

jude told and reminded you always. even before you dated he wanted to let you know he was there no matter what. that being with you was the luckiest and most important aspects of his life. he never failed to show the gratitude or shy away the love he has and created. “you’re my world y/n. i’d do anything for you…”

“oh my god i love this song!” you squeal tuning up the volume as you heard the introduction of moscow mule. “isn’t this by bad bunny?” asked jude, remembering how his teammates played him back during training and gym sessions. “what do you know about bad bunny?” you teased, earning a tiny scoff from jude. “more than you know.”

your back laid on jude’s chest, giving his bicep a tiny peck in appreciation, his arms holding your waist, rubbing small circles on your hips. “this song is perfect for todays evening,” the small comment has jude cocking his head to the side, you go on to explain how the song means living life and in the moment with the person you love.

“yo no se tu, pero yo quisiera amanecer 'esnu', en una playa por balí, si no, cancún, pide otro moscow mule…” (my fav part ever of this song 😣)

jude’s lips place faint kisses on your ear lobe, leaving a wet trail as he gently ran his tongue on your pulse point, making you shiver and close your eyes anticipating his next move when he blew air. “i need you so bad you don’t understand y/n…” jude whined, pressing you down on his cock, as you panted. “i can feel that, can hear it in you,” you say gently turning around where jude made a mental picture of you like this.

you made sure no one was around, including the driver even if he was on the top deck of the yacht. you grind on him, a tiny groan escaping his mouth as you kissed his jaw bone. “we have to be quiet okay,” jude placed you down with one hand on him, his kisses urgent and showing how much he needed you. “can i take this off?” he asked tugging the red string from your top, your noses together as you calmed your breaths.

you nod biting your bottom lip, jude watching your eyes dilate as he gently undid the bow from the back. his eyes roamed your now bare breast, running his hands from your sides and giving both a small squeeze, hearing your shaky inhale, not resisting the urge and placing kisses on the flesh of them, tracing all the way up to your lips, where he hummed. “so sweet… so mine.”

“jude please…” you whimpered. “i know, i know, i got you, i got you baby,” jude reassured. sealing his promise by showing you what he meant and desired all day. your small and quiet moans driving him insane since all he wanted was to hear you. hear how good you were taking him, how amazing you felt wrapped around his cock. he felt it all, the cloud nine feeling as your warm walls squeezed him tight, your nails raking down his back leaving a burn and red trails, your lips struggling to kiss him as you came undone.

“i love you darling,” he kissed you deeply, feeling as you smiled into the kiss knowing you were about to say it back.

“i. love. you.”

——— j. b. ———

judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, yourbestie, vinijr, brahmin, badbunny, jobebellingham, fedevalverde, declanrice, trentalexanderarnold, vogue, spottedcelebrity, camavinga, and 2,348,699 others.

judebellingham: moscow mule feeling

comments:

ynusername: hi bf 😛

ynusername: still not okay after first pic… anyways VEN Y CHOCA

↪️ judebellingham: conmigo que se joda 🫣🫡

username90: miami y/n and jude?? okay then

user12: she is actually so stunning i can’t. jude move.

username23: OMGGG BAD BUNNY SONG?? he knows what he’s doing.

brahmin: hermanoooo, disfruten ❤️

trentalexanderarnold: 🫡🫡

liked by judebellingham

username65: oh- well we know they had a good time ☺️

user33: miami was not ready for them…

[auroralwriting]

helping hands

spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

after a rough case, spencer offers to help your muscles relax

word count: 1.0k

warnings: no y/n, pre-established relationship, pure fluff, absolute comfort fic, one small sexual innuendo, it's a short one, but sweet!

from, anon: hello! i'm a little nervous to request something this is actually my first time doing it! but i have an oddly specific request that i felt you would be able to bring to life beautifully. i was wondering if u would maybe be write something for Spencer giving the reader a massage on their back to try and help? just lots of fluffy love and extra extra bonus points if you add lots of kisses

Physically demanding cases were the worst. Sure, dealing with psychopaths was tough, but chasing them down or fighting them was probably worse.

This specific case, the unsub was actually an award-winning tri-athlete. He put up a good chase, and then an even better fight. Usually, Derek took the brunt of these, but with him checking out the secondary location, it was you and Kate, who was pregnant.

Of course you weren't going to let a pregnant woman do all that work, so you kept her back and took as much of the brunt as she'd let you take. Thankfully, you both got out nearly unharmed, just with a few minor cuts, scratches, and bruises.

The one issue that you didn't account for was hurting your back, again. The last time you'd gotten hurt was during a case in Atlanta where you fell down a flight of stairs after being pushed by the unsub. You'd sustained some pretty nasty back injuries. Even after they had healed, some of your muscles overcompensated for the others, causing you to have back pain flare ups.

Normally, you could keep them at bay with simple stretches and some medication. This time, you realized that you'd done a number on your back during the fight.

Spencer took quick note of your posture during the flight home. You struggled to find a comfortable position, constantly trying to stretch your back or shoulder blades, seeking any form of relief from the pain. He knew how much you hated being put under a microscope, especially in front of the team, so he kept quiet until you arrived back to your shared apartment.

Walking in, you sighed as you kicked off your shoes, not caring how or where they landed on the floor as you bolted to the couch, flopping down on it. You were honestly too tired and in pain to care. Spencer chuckled in the background, and you could hear him set your shoes down on the shoe rack you had.

Your eyes, which had been previously shut, opened to see Spencer kneeling in front of you. "Hi, pretty girl." Spencer smiled at you, brushing some of your hair out of your face with a loving look gracing his features.

"Hi," you softly replied.

"You feeling alright?" Spencer now caressed your cheek with his thumb softly. "I noticed you stretching a lot on the jet."

With a small shake of your head, your lips fell into a soft pout. "I hurt my back, I think."

Spencer gently grabbed your arms and help you sit up. He carefully slid your coat down your arms with furrowed brows. "Did you get hit?"

"No," you answered, "I think I twisted my back wrong when I tried to jump in front of Kate. I think I felt it hurt then, but I had a lot of adrenaline."

"You were in flight-or-fight mode," Spencer nodded. "Now that you're safe and sound, you're gonna feel it more." His large hands slowly rubbed at your tense shoulders. He felt your body relax beneath his touch. "You want me to massage you a little, love?"

A sigh of contentment escaped your lips as his hands worked magic on your shoulders, "Please, Spence."

Spencer moved your body so you were laid down. He set a pillow beneath your head as you got yourself situated and comfortable.

Spencer had prepared for this moment for what felt like his whole life. You weren't dating when your first injury occurred, but after going out for a few dates, Spencer bought seven books, all on muscles in the back, massage techniques, and different pain relieving strategies all for this exact moment. You were careful with your injury, and Spencer trusted you, but he also understood that accidents and situations like these happen, especially in your shared line of work.

The sounds of your soft hums and sighs were a sign that Spencer was doing all the right things. You knew Spencer had magic fingers, but this was the best work they'd ever done. He worked out the kinks and aches in your back.

"Did you know that roses have been cultivated since ancient times, with evidence of their cultivation dating back to the Babylonians and the Egyptians around five-thousand years ago?" Spencer rambled, his voice quiet as he worked.

You loved Spencer's rambles, "Mm-mm." you hummed, "Why?"

"They were used for their fragrance and beauty. It lead to their association with the Egyption goddess, Hathor, and then to the Greek goddess Aphrodite, and so on." Spencer explained further.

Without warning, you turned over to look up a him. Spencer smiled down at you as you softly grabbed his neck, pulling him closer to press a kiss onto his lips.

"I love your brain," You commented with a smile, watching his face light up at the compliment.

"I'm not done yet, silly girl. Roll back over for me." Spencer chuckled.

Giggling, you rolled back onto your stomach as Spencer began to work into your back. You felt his hot breath over the back of your neck as he began to trail kisses downwards, down your spine. You shivered at the touch, smiling to yourself when he moved back up to press a gentle kiss onto your head.

"I don't think masseuses normally get this touchy," you joked.

Spencer shook his head, "They don't, but my client's just too pretty."

"Are you done yet?" You turned your head to look at him.

"Do you feel any better?" Spencer asked.

You sat up, moving your arms and gently twisting your back. "Mhm, thank you, baby."

"Then yes," Spencer smiled, "I'm all done. What's the rush?"

"I wanted to watch Doctor Who before we get too sleepy." You replied, then giving a soft roll to your eyes, "Or before we get called in again."

Spencer sighed, "Don't even say it. I don't think I can handle another case for at least two weeks." He took your hand as you leaned into him. He grabbed the remote and clicked the tv on. "But I'm never one to say no to Doctor Who and my girl."

"Thank you for helping," You lovingly said, snuggling into your boyfriend's chest.

"Anytime, lovely."

[mystic-writings]

ink on skin | daryl dixon

PAIRING — daryl dixon x fem!soulmate!reader

REQUEST — anon — hello! could you do an angsty story with daryl dixon? fem reader please <3 

SUMMARY — daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long ago, even with the words marked on his wrist. and then he found you.

WARNINGS — canon-typical scenarios, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, soulmate au

WORD COUNT — 3,573

NOTES — this was supposed to be part of a really long collection of prompt drabbles from years ago but i found it in my docs and turned it into something a lot longer <3 it’s not the best (i couldn't for the life of me work out a good ending), but i think this might be one of my faves i’ve written bc of how poetic the first few paragraphs are 

masterlist | navigation | requests are open!

Daryl gave up on the concept of soulmates long before the world ended. He gave up on it when he was just a boy, when his mother died and his father stopped showing love. When he was told by his peers, his brother, his father, that no one would ever want him to stay with them, because he just wouldn’t be wanted by anyone. 

He grew to loathe the words on his wrist from a very young age. He did everything he could to cover them — makeup he stole from his aunt, long-sleeved shirts, bracelets, you name it. He’d even gotten used to not glancing at the ink scribed on his left wrist, making sure that no matter what, his eyes never fell on them. 

But even when he hated the words that sat there, waiting to be spoken by someone who cared, someone who wanted him, he couldn’t deny the countless nights he spent awake, tracing each letter and imagining what his soulmate’s voice sounded like. How would they say those three little words? What would they look like? When would he meet them? 

Daryl missed the feeling of being wanted. He only ever felt it when he was with his mother, when he was a young boy who didn’t know anything but that the sky was blue and soulmates were real and his father was mean. He hasn’t felt wanted — truly wanted — for a long, long time, not even when he found the group. 

Over time, with the loathing came the forgetting of the words marked on his wrist. By the time the world ended, Daryl had almost completely abandoned the reality of having a soulmate, and he rarely ever thought about it. In fact, he felt some relief in the fact that the world had ended. The chances of him finding ‘the one’ had lowered significantly now that most of the population was undead, and he had no reason to worry about being better for someone just to make it seem like he was worth loving anymore. 

For almost three years, he lived with the relief of likely not having a soulmate anymore. 

Today was an ordinary day, especially for the Alexandrians. At least, it seemed like an ordinary day. The sun was shining, people were milling around, crops were growing. But underneath the surface was something that no one wanted to address. Fear. 

Negan was beginning his wrath on the community that could barely keep itself alive. He demanded supplies, and he demanded a lot of them. So, half of Daryl’s people had gone out on runs to look for stuff. Food, clothes, medicine, whatever they could bring back. Daryl was among that group, taking a car as opposed to his motorbike and going to a high school with Carol.

At first, he volunteered to go alone, but she reasoned with him. It was too big of an area for him to cover on his own, she said. He could get hurt, or worse. And it was Carol, how could he deny her? She was his best friend, after all. So, Daryl drove in silence, Carol in the passenger seat, staring curiously at him. 

The feeling of her eyes on his annoyed him to no end, and eventually, the archer caved. 

“There somethin’ on my face or wha’?”

“Nothing,” Carol chirped. “Just… thinking.” 

“‘Bout wha’?” Daryl asked, sparing a glance at the woman. 

Carol shrugged, eyeing her friend. “About those words, on your arm.” 

Daryl tensed, shifting his posture to hopefully hide them from Carol’s view. “And?”

“Well, they’re not gone, for one.” She stated, a lilt in her voice. “And they’re… interesting first words for a soulmate, don’t you think?”

“How am I supposed ta know? I ain’t never seen anyone else’s tattoos. And it ain’t like I got a good chance of meetin’ ‘em, with all this shit goin’ on.” Daryl grumbled, watching Carol shrug and avert her gaze, looking ahead at the road. 

“Just saying… I wouldn’t give up hope, Daryl.” 

How would Carol know whether or not he should give up hope? Sure, she’d been the person closest to him aside from Rick, but even she knew nothing about his soulmate. Hell, he was still trying to figure out how she knew exactly what words marked his wrist. Still, he shook the thoughts from his head and continued the drive in silence, as though nothing had been spoken between the pair. 

Somehow, the high school Daryl and Carol had arrived at seemed to be completely abandoned. 

There were no walkers roaming around outside the grounds, most of the windows were intact, and the parking lot was practically void of cars. It was a small town, but from what Daryl could remember of the high schools they’d driven past or looted during their time at the prison, he figured most high schools in small towns — like this one, in particular — would’ve been turned into aid camps for refugees. 

Even with no signs of life, Carol and Daryl kept their weapons up as they entered through the main doors. 

Flashlight beams swept over every inch of the school, and it became clear as to why there were no walkers. Rotting bodies littered the linoleum floors, dried blood splattered over tile and wall and metal lockers. A stench that the pair had, unfortunately, gotten used to, permeated the air, filling their guts with a permanent feeling of nausea. 

The first place they’d found was the nurse’s office, and while there wasn’t much in the way of medicines, there were supplies that Alexandria was lacking. Gauze, tension wraps, bandaids, generic over the counter medicines like ibuprofen and Gravol. Whatever was left, Carol loaded into the backpack she’d brought, filling it to the brim with what they found. 

“Cafeteria should be this way,” she nodded down the hall, flashlight sweeping across the path before they exited. 

Passing by empty classroom after empty classroom, Daryl said, “Migh’ need some of this stuff for later, when the kids get older, ya know? Be good for ‘em to learn.” 

“Yeah, it would be,” Carol nodded, eyes landing on a set of double doors to her right. “Maybe we’ll come back for all that stuff later.” 

Daryl grunted in affirmation, about to push the cafeteria door open with his shoulder. He paused as a loud thump echoed down the hall. His eyes flashed, followed by the beam of his flashlight, landing on a singular closed door, a plastic chair propped under the handle. 

“Leave it,” Carol advised. “It’s just a walker.” 

Daryl nodded, but his eyes lingered on the door for a moment. Deciding to leave it be, he pushed the cafeteria door open, finding it empty yet again. The pair crossed the large area to the hot table, where they could already see some canned goods lying about on the tables. 

“If there were people here,” Carol began, “why wouldn’t they have taken the food with them when they left?”

“Why’s that matter?” Daryl asked, propping his crossbow against the wall and pulling out his knife. He knelt by the door to the kitchen, putting his flashlight down and wedging the blade between the frame. “‘S more for us, ‘s all that matters. Don’ gotta question everythin’,” 

Carol said nothing, keeping her flashlight trained on the door for Daryl to use as extra light. 

After prying open the door, the pair used a cart to transport the mounds of large, sealed canned goods. With Carol pulling and Daryl pushing, they’d made quick work of the first two trips they needed to make, loading their trunk as best as they were able. 

On their way out of the third and final trip, Carol held the cafeteria door open as Daryl pushed the half-full cart, stopping abruptly as the door started to swing shut behind him. 

“What? What is it?”

“I hear somethin’,” Daryl muttered, straining his ears to listen for the noise again. He listened for what felt like decades, and just when he thought he was going crazy, he heard it again. “There,”

“What? I didn’t hear anything,” Carol said. 

“Nah, I heard it. Comin’ from this way,” he gestured down the part of the hall they hadn’t bothered exploring. Slowly, focused entirely on identifying the noise, Daryl crept down the hall, a confused Carol following him. 

Just as he’d been passing the room with the chair blocking the door, Daryl heard two sounds: a dull thunk, and a hiccuping cry. He stopped, turning to the door that had drawn his attention before. 

“Daryl, it’s just a walker,” Carol insisted. “Let’s go, we got what we need.” 

The archer didn’t listen, footfalls nearly silent against the linoleum as he approached the door, knife raised. In quick motions, Daryl pulled the chair from the door, sending it down the hall with a resounding screech, grabbing at the handle and pulling it open. The hinges squeaked as he peered within the dark, small room — a supply closet, he’d discerned from the cleaning products lining the shelves. All sense of danger left him when he wasn’t met with a walker, but instead a girl, her body half-laying, half-sitting, propped against the wall. 

Daryl’s eyes widened, taking in her form. She was covered head to toe in dirt and grime, save for the clear tear tracks down her cheeks and neck. Her hair was matted, and the side of her calf, just above the ankle, was wrapped in dirtied bandages. Her only protection was a small knife, covered in dried blood, the handle of which rested in her limp hand. 

“Holy shit,” Daryl blurted, catching the attention of Carol, but barely gaining acknowledgement from the girl before him. 

Carol, peeking over Daryl’s shoulder, moved first. She darted around the archer’s broad frame, kneeling down at the girl’s calf. Peeling the bandage from her skin, Carol sighed in relief, finding a deep gash where she feared there might have been a bite mark. “She’s hurt,” Carol remarked, moving closer to search for a pulse. “And barely alive.” 

“Go bring the cart out, I’ll carry her out,” Daryl’s eyes never left the girl’s form as Carol left. Carefully, he scooped the girl into his arms, relief flooding him when a weak, protesting groan fell from her chapped lips.

There was no telling how long she’d been stuck in that closet, without food or water, simply left to die. And based on the chair propped against the door… it had been intentional. 

Daryl carried her to the car with ease, having Carol assist him as he laid you across the back seat, taking the time to make sure she would be secure as they drove. After confirming that everything was packed into the trunk, Daryl peeled out of the school parking lot, the drive back to Alexandria being much shorter than the one to the school. 

The sun was setting when the car passed the gates, and from there, things passed in a flurry of motion. Daryl carried the girl to the infirmary himself, watching Tara and Denise move about hastily to heal this mystery woman. 

“What happened to her?” Denise asked, cutting the bandage from her ankle. 

“Dunno,” Daryl huffed. “Found her like tha’. Musta been trapped for a while. Few days without water, at least.”

Denise only nodded, working to clean the wound and stitch it. She barely had the focus to think about the wound itself, how deep it was and the likelihood of infection setting in. Tara worked at cleaning the girl’s skin, inserting an IV into her hand like she’d been taught. 

The sun had set by the time they were done, the girl changed into new clothes and her skin cleaned of grime. Tara had been sitting by her side when Daryl came back to the infirmary, after going to the Grimes home to eat something and give as much information as he could to Rick and Michonne. 

“How’s she doin’?”

“As good as she can,” Tara smiled awkwardly. “I don’t think she’ll be waking up anytime soon, she’s like— super dehydrated. It’s been an hour and I’ve had to change the bag thingy twice already.”

Daryl grunted in acknowledgement, pulling up a chair on the other side of the girl’s bedside. He didn’t know much about her — or anything, really, not even her name — but even with her chapped lips and sickly look, he thought she was beautiful. And he also knew that whoever had left her in that closet had done so on purpose. He figured it might have been because of her injury, but it was cruel no matter which way he tried to paint it. 

He just hoped she’d be okay when she woke up. 

It took the mystery girl three days to wake up. Managing her health at a time where there weren’t any real supplies to use had been difficult, and it took all of Denise’s focus to make sure she had enough fluids. 

Waking up in an unfamiliar, oddly clean, room, on a bed, with no stench of rotting bodies wafting through the air was confusing, terrifying, and oddly comforting. 

Your body woke with a jolt, eyes snapping open like you’d woken from a nightmare of sorts. There was movement to your right, and you jumped back from it, frantic eyes finding a blonde girl attempting to calm you without touching you as best as she was able. 

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, you’re safe.” She’d said, stressing the last word. “One of our guys found you in a supply closet and brought you here. He— He said you were half dead.” 

Pure fear and confusion kept your mouth shut. The girl kept talking, asking questions, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond to any of it. The pain in your leg hadn’t been of any help, pulsing and throbbing with every slight movement. 

By the time she’d realized you weren’t going to respond, she sighed and moved over to the kitchen to your right. When she came back, she placed some food and a tall glass of water on the bedside table, backing away slowly as she spoke. “I’m Denise. The man who found you, Daryl, is on his way to see you. Maybe you’ll feel more comfortable talking to him?”

The idea of speaking to anyone, even the man you vaguely remember before passing out due to dehydration, made your stomach roll. Still, you picked up the plate, gratefully digging into the food you were given. Drinking the water, you relished the feeling of it sliding down your throat. Water was something you hadn’t had in what felt like years, and you’d be damned if you didn’t cherish what you’d been given. 

As you finished up, the door creaked open, and your body stiffened. You watched a burly, reserved man step inside, his movements hesitant. You watched Denise approach, whispering something to him — likely about you. Presuming this was Daryl, you willed yourself to relax, even as you pulled your knees tight to your chest, arms locked around them. 

You watched him approach the bedside, standing awkwardly beside you as you looked into his eyes. Strikingly blue, surprisingly soft. 

“Hey. Ya alright?” He asked. His voice was rough, southern accent awfully thick. But his words sounded soft, somehow. Small. Like he was trying not to frighten you. 

All you could manage was a nod. He huffed, nodding back, clearly somewhat relieved that you were at least communicating somehow. You kept your eyes on him, tracing every inch of his face and his clothes. It was clear to you, though you were unsure of how, that he must’ve been built for this world. Daryl seemed out of place in this clean, crisp, white room, and when you pictured him in the woods, he seemed to blend right in. 

After a moment, he turned and went back to talk to Denise. They spoke in hushed whispers, and you thought back to the exchange you’d just had. Your mind had been reeling, so caught up in the entire situation, that the words Daryl had spoken didn’t register. And neither did the tingling across the inside of your wrist. 

Pulling down the sleeve of your shirt, your fingers grazed at the skin where the words you’d been waiting your whole life for the right person to say used to be. With wide eyes, you found the words gone, replaced by a slight scar of where they had once been inscribed. It was surreal, and definitely not the time. 

“Hey,” Daryl called out as he came to stand beside you again, voice still soft despite its natural roughness. “Doc said ya can leave if ya want. I know ya don’t know me, but if ya want… ya can stay with me. I got a cot ya can sleep on, if yer okay with tha’,” 

You mustered up a small smile, nodding at the man before you — your soulmate. You’d been wishing to find him your entire life, but with the world ending, you put that aspiration aside. You certainly hadn’t expected to find him when you were at the brink of death, trapped by the selfish people you’d once considered family. 

Carefully, you slipped out from the blankets, stumbling as you put weight on your injured leg. Luckily, Daryl caught you, wrapping an arm around your waist as the other guided your arm to rest around his neck. Wordlessly, you watched his cheeks flush red as he shifted his weight before you began walking. 

It was painful, getting to the house he lived in. Not because of your leg, but because of the proximity. Along with the fact that you couldn’t bring yourself to speak a single word, not even to him. 

As you settled into the large basement room he’d taken, he told you more about the community, about his people. The ones who lived here — Rick, Michonne, Carl, and Judith — were family to him. The others were the same, but they all lived in different homes. He laid out the cot as you sat on the bed, watching intently as his voice reverberated around the room, rattling your heart in your chest. 

“I know ya don’t talk much,” he huffed, rooting through a bag of his and pulling something out. “But ya can write, right?”

You nodded, watching a smile play on his lips as he handed you a notepad and pen. 

“Can ya tell me yer name, at least? So we can call ya somethin’ that ain’t jus’ ‘girl’?”

Smiling, you wrote out your name and handed the paper back to him. Your smile widened when you heard him say your name, meeting his eyes as he looked back up at you. 

“Ya can talk, right?” You nodded. 

Daryl nodded, leaving the pen and paper with you, just in case. “‘M gonna go find Rick, tell him yer stayin’ with me fer now. Alright?”

The thought of Daryl leaving you, of being alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no light aside from the window at the very top of the wall, shocked the fear back into you. As he turned, heading for the door that led to the stairs, your breath caught in your throat. As quickly as you were able, you reached out, grabbing the man’s wrist and pulling him back to face you. 

“Please, don’t leave.” You whispered, voice gravelly and strained. It surprised even you, eyes widening as you met Daryl’s gaze. But his carried a certain fear as his eyes tore from your own, locking onto the wrist you’d caught. 

Following his line of sight, your heart stuttered, watching the ink on his arm begin to fade into his skin, into the same imprinted scar of words that you had. 

“Yer…” he breathed, eyes filling with tears.

“Yeah,” you whispered, eyes watering, watching him as his eyes remained on his wrist. “Your soulmate.” 

Daryl pulled his wrist from your delicate hold, his mind on overdrive. He’d thought it ironic, that the apocalypse had only pushed him closer to his soulmate instead of further apart. And now, the words he’d been desperate to cover throughout his life were finally gone, and the woman that the universe decided was meant for him was sitting on his bed, saved from the cusp of death because of him. All because he couldn’t take his mind off the closet with the chair blocking the door. 

His hand came to his wrist, rubbing at the skin that was no longer tainted with words he thought would never be spoken. And despite all of the fear Daryl carried with him over the years, the gratefulness he had for the apocalypse and the relief that he’d never have to let down his soulmate when they saw that he wasn’t good enough for them, he felt none of it when he looked at you. 

All he could feel was happy. Relief, not that the world had ended, but that you were safe and healthy. 

And, all of a sudden, meeting your eyes, Daryl was okay with the idea of having a soulmate. All the words that had been spat his way growing up, all the times he was desperate to pretend like he didn’t have a soulmate didn’t matter anymore. All that mattered was you. 

It would take time for Daryl to feel like he deserved you, he knew that. But you were here, and you were alive. That was enough for now.

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[dipperscavern]

ngl but i think after you eventually fall pregnant with a stark baby from….obvious reasons….its the wolves that notice first. like Greywind is already a bit protective of you but all the sudden he doesn’t even like when robb is too close to you. Ghost literally will not leave your side and no one can come within 5 ft without a massive wolf growling at them. They literally just won’t leave you alone and take it upon themselves to protect you, theyre with you more than the stark men themselves (who have duties they must attend to) and theyve started liking you more than them anyway (i would feed them table scraps 10000%)

THE WOLVES NOTICING FIRST IS SO GENIUS THIS IS SO ACCURATE. ur so smart (ok spencer reid anon LMFOA)

greywind mirrors robb in his sort of wildly protective nature, but it just (somehow) grows when greywind senses you’re pregnant. now instead of by the door, greywind sleeps cuddled flush against you, covering your stomach with his body. he will flat out refuse to heed robb’s guarding commands, literally refusing to move away from you when you sleep. it seems like greywind has a mind of his own, giving a low growl as a warning when robb has a hand on or slings his arm around your stomach. and robb’s just ?? because usually they’re on the same wavelength, but he has no idea what’s gotten into him. and then the morning sickness starts, along with other symptoms, and you confide in catelyn (with greywind resting his head on your stomach as you sit with her). she sends you straight to the maesters, and they confirm you’re with child. robb finally understands what’s up with his other half now, and greywind resumes letting robb get close to you (& your stomach) again. because he knows robb will be gentle, knowing you’re carrying his babe.

and ghost. don’t even get me started on ghost. he and jon’s relationship (especially in the books) is already so funny. it’s more of a friendship/partnership than a master/pet relationship, and ghost already defies jon if he wants to. obviously, he heeds when it counts, but knowing that, it just confuses/frustrates jon when he starts standing between y’all. ghost loves jon, but it’s not uncommon for him to go off and do his own thing. so imagine everyone’s surprise when ghost refuses to leave your side. he still checks on jon throughout the day, but now, you’re doing your duties around castle black with this giant almost-as-tall-as-your-shoulder white shadow padding after you. he’s laying on the table in the mess hall watching you scrub a different one & immediately standing up on it to growl when someone opens the door to come inside. ghost starts literally hunting for the both of you, bringing you animals. you appreciate it, but it’s quite confusing. jon is so frustrated because as lord commander people have to be able to speak to him, but ghost won’t let anyone near you. eventually he literally has a sit down with ghost (because he definitely speaks english).

& he’s full on speaking to ghost just as he would speak to sam or edd. “She’s my woman too. D’you know that?”

then, as your symptoms start & you visit maester aemon, everything becomes clear. and jon is thankful that he’s not losing his mind anymore.