#he’s a little bitch but i love him :’3

[paulyenvol6]

Fine Line

This is a smutty one shot with Joel Miller x reader and it's based on this request. Very angsty and lots of dom!Joel with daddy vibes and subby reader. I had so much fun writing this so thank you so much for the amazing request and feel free to send me whatever you want me to write. Enjoy <3

Contains: smut, oral (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, edging, orgasm denial, mentions of safe word, dubcon, daddy kink, dom and mean Joel, sub!reader, degrading, mentions of words like whore/bitch/slut, angst, anxiety, panic, fainting, having sex although the other person wants to stop, crying, aftercare, soft Joel in the end

Wordcount: ~6.41k

Masterlist

Joel was horny tonight.

You could see it in the way his lips were always slightly parted and his chest rose and fell more heavily than usual.

And he was simply more responsive to your arm that would brush against his side every now again or your hand against his chest. He had been like that the whole evening and now as you lay in his arms on the couch you couldn't help but think about the way you could take advantage of the situation.

When Joel was craving sex with you he was more willing to do you a favor just because he needed you so much that he didn't have the patience to think about what you were asking of him. And maybe, just maybe tonight could be one of those nights where you would be able to get exactly what you were yearning for.

It was clear to you that Joel was intiating sex when he wrapped an arm around your waist to press you to his center while covering your neck with sloppy kisses. He gently removed your hair to softly bite and mark your neck until you felt brave enough to come forward with your request.

"Joel?" you asked softly and he hummed against your skin. "Mhm?"

"I want you to be mean to me. Please."

It wasn't like the two of you were vanilla when it came to sex. You had tried a lot of different things that could be called kinky but Joel tended to be a little more careful with certain things than you were.

Your suspicion was that the reason for that was your age gap. You were in your early twenties after all and although he should really know how much you adored being with him and that you would never want to treat this life with him for a life with a younger man your age, you believed that he didn't love it because he didn't want to emphasize or increase the power imbalance between the two of you. Which you, quite frankly, hated.

Because he was so good at it that when you got your favourite freaky Joel you longed for him days after and begged him to be rough with you at any time of the day. Sometimes Joel played along to make you happy because that was what he was after at the end of the day but you always had a feeling that he felt bad after degrading you.

But now he chuckled and his hand became more firm on your stomach to hold you close to him.

"Ya want me to be mean? But you were such a good little kitten today, ain't that right?"

You gave him your biggest puppy eyes while turning in his lap so you could look at him.

"Please daddy. I want you to. I was good, yes, so please do me the favor."

Joel sighed and took your face in his hands. You loved when he did that, because his hands were so big that it felt like he was covering the whole side of your face.

"You want me to be mean to my favourite little pussy? That's gonna make me feel very bad, honey."

You were growing impatient now because you didn't know if Joel was simply teasing you or actually still considering treating you roughly tonight so you shifted in his lap rocking yourself against his crotch in order to get him hard.

"Ugh uh, babygirl," he growled at once and stopped you by placing his hands on your hips.

"If you want me to be hard on you, you're only gonna do what I tell you to do. That's your only task."

You had to surpress a proud smile because you finally had evoked the kind of Joel you needed right now. He was mocking you, treating you like you needed guidance with everything and would surely punish you if need be.

"I will. Please be hard on me, daddy, I need it."

He smirked and softly pulled at you bottom lip with his thumb.

"God…, will you look at that," he said with a husky voice and observed the way you lip snapped back.

"Such a silly girl. Beggin' me to treat you like shit when you usually ask for your sweet 'n nice daddy almost all the time."

He cupped your chin with his hand in order to observe you precisely and bit his lip at your sight.

"You want me to be mean? Then I'm gonna be really mean, baby. Gonna treat you like shit. S'this what ya want?"

Yes, that was what you wanted and you could already feel your pussy dripping at his words. Too stunned to speak you nodded determinedly but it wasn't enough for Joel.

"Words," he demanded and tapped against your bottom lip.

"I want it. Want you to be really mean."

He smirked and carefully, almost as if you were something fragile tilted your head in his hands. Then, within seconds he had grabbed your waist and moved the two of you over so you were on your back while he hovered over you. You let out a giggle which he instantly surpressed by pressing his lips on yours until you were left breathless.

"Joel," you murmured against his mouth and wrapped your arms around him.

You wanted to test him, provoke him to the point where he would snap and put you in your place. Perhaps he was aware of your strategy but he still played along.

"Hands to yourself," he whispered and pinned your wrists down over your head with one hand.

"Joel," you whispered again but now he seemed to have officially taken on his role because his eyes remained cold and indifferent.

"Do you have something to say? Otherwise you're gonna shut up unless I tell you to speak."

With a bubbly feeling in your belly you shook your head and waited for what he would do next. He watched you for a while like he was a predator taking in the view of his helpless victim in front of him and you almost started to feel so impatient that you wondered if you should ask him to go on when he finally moved his hands to your waist in order to tug at the fabric and pull it up.

He revealed your belly, thumb drawing circles over your skin and exposed your abdomen until the underside of your chest was bare under his gaze.

"Not wearin' a fuckin' bra? Jesus Christ…," he growled and you clenched your thighs at his husky voice.

"Please," you moaned already feeling so tense and full of accumulated pleasure that you needed him to finally touch you now.

"And she's already begging me like a pathetic bitch," Joel's sharp voice cut through the air leaving you big-eyed.

"I just know that if I didn't take such care of you you'd whore your way around the city spreadin' those pretty legs for every breathing creature. 'Cause you're a needy slut that can't ever get enough."

He squeezed your breast at his words which forced you to let out a gasp. For a moment you had to remind yourself that Joel didn't actually think that way about you but he was playing this role for you. He was just so good at it that you feared he would make you feel so little that you would start to believe his evil words.

Both his hands were now busy with kneading your breasts so roughly that the throbbing between your legs became more intense the longer he proceeded. You pressed your thighs together, a pathetic attempt to get rid of it but it didn't really work so you shifted your hips to search for his knee between your legs.

When Joel realized what you were doing he harshly opened your legs with his knee leaving you feel even more uncomfortable. His hand enclosed around your nipple which got him your attention and you submissively looked up to him.

"Stupid girl. Pissin' me off after begging me to be rough with you. You're gonna take all of it now, babygirl and I swear to god I'll ignore your crying or beggin' or complainin' 'n you can moan my name as often as you like, I'll keep going until I'm satisfied."

As much as you were looking forward to this promise you couldn't help but feel a little reluctant as well because you were familiar with his ways of torturing and teasing you and the prospect of spending the night pleading and begging him to finally give you what you wanted wasn't exactly comfortable. But you had asked for this after all. You loved it when he was mean to you and you knew it would be worth it.

A shiver rippled down your spine as you felt him twist your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger while he simultaneously kneaded your other breast. It was a fine line between pleasure and pain that he overstepped every now and which would then leave you breathless and with tears in your eyes when he pulled a little too hard on your nipple. Then you placed your hand on his but Joel merely snorted furiously and pushed you away.

"I said you're gonna take it. Without fuckin' annoyin' me. Stick those fingers into your mouth if you can't keep 'em to yourself."

You wavered, unsure whether this was a command or not but eventually you coiled your hands into fists and pressed them to your side while letting Joel use you the way he wanted. He really took his time tonight, exploring and stroking every inch of your body he could reach and when he finally removed his hands you expected him to unbuckle his belt but to your surprise he didn't. Instead he first pulled your shirt over your head so your upper body was finally completely bare and then his fingers came down to your jeans to open them.

"Joel," you whispered and licked away the sweat that had gathered above your top lip.

"Shut up and do as I say," he muttered fretfully while pulling the fabric down. "S'all I'm fuckin' asking of you, okay? Can you just obey me for once in your life?"

You nodded slowly your eyes brimming with a new wetness that hadn't been there before. No, no, no, you couldn't allow yourself to take his rough words to heart. This wasn't Joel, this was the kind of Joel you had wanted. You liked it and you wanted to get degraded by him because of the way it made you feel. You had been looking forward to this so much and you would stay focused. Joel didn't mean it and afterwards he would hold you and tell you how much he loved you. He was just playing. Acting.

You snapped back when he had taken your jeans off and watched your quaking hands with a mixture of arrogance and enjoyment.

"Open your mouth," he demanded while gripping your chin. Once you showed him your flat tongue he spitted into your mouth examining how his spit landed on your tongue and then tapped against your bottom lip.

"Swallow."

You did and opened your mouth for him again.

"Good girl." It was all he said but it made your heart flutter.

Then he made his way down your body, kissing and licking over your sore nipples and you recoiled every time his teeth sunk into your flesh.

"Please, Joel," you moaned at some point because you craved him so much that you felt like melting with him but he gave you an evil smile and lightly slapped the side of your ass.

"No. S'not about what you want. I'll take from you what I want and the more you beg me to do something the less likely it is that I'll do it."

Before you could even think about an answer you suddenly heard a ripping sound and then the cold air hit your bare pussy.

"Joel!" you complained staring at your torn underwear but he ignored you as he only had eyes for what waited between your legs for him. He didn't hesitate for a second now but just forcefully opened your thighs and then immediately slid a finger through your glistening folds. Then he collected some of your arousal and mockingly observed it.

"What's that, mhm? Was just playing with your tits a little and you're fuckin' soaked."

He chuckled darkly and brought his finger to your mouth. "Open. Clean it."

You had done similar things a hundres times before so you quickly confiled with the order and twirled your tongue around his digit as if it was his cock. Joel hummed with closed eyes and when you were done he pushed you down while crawling down again.

Every remaining amount of strength wilted when you saw the way he looked at your pussy and you were glad you got to lay on the couch. He then opened you up wider and moved your legs to rest on his shoulders. You couldn't allow yourself to feel the anticipation just yet because he was too mean to do this solely for your pleasure. You feared that he would change his mind in the last second so you anxiously watched his every move and almost choked on your breath when you felt his thumb brushing over your clit.

"S'right. Let it out I wanna hear it all," he hummed contently while rubbing you in small circles.

You couldn't believe he was actually doing this after having talked you down like this but your mind was too clouded anyway to question his actions.

His hands lingered at your core a little longer until he moved them up to your hips while lowering his head down to your pussy. He inhaled deeply taking in your scent and then connected his tongue with your clit which made you whine out almost painfully.

If there was one thing you could never get enough of in your life, it was him eating your pussy. It was simply… perfect. His beard grazing over your skin, his soft and warm tongue on your clit and the way he lapped up your wetness as if he was a man starving.

"Fuck, Joel, fuck…," you moaned your toes curling at the insane feelings he evoked in you.

His tongue drew patterns over your clit and you were almost sure that they were letters but you were too caught up in pleasure to concentrate on it.

And you were definitely too exhausted to work out why he was giving you so much pleasure after you had begged him to be mean. Because you definitely didn't mind and didn't want to do anything that could make him stop.

Joel now brushed over the underside of your clit with his pointed tongue and you shuddered beneath him your hands gripping his muscular arms. And when he inserted one of his thick fingers inside of you you couldn't help but grind against him. The moment he noticed he stopped licking you and raised his head.

"No," he spoke his face expressionless and buried his hand into the flesh of your ass. "One more time and I'll stop."

Joel dived between your thighs again while his left hand splayed across your stomach to apply light pressure that added to the pleasure you received from his mouth and his finger inside of you. Your fingers were buried in the cushions now too scared to touch him and perhaps anger him further but when he sucked your clit into his mouth a cry left your mouth and you pressed your nails into your own thighs in order to handle the intensity of his touch.

"Please. Fuck, Joel, it's so fucking good," you whimpered and wished he would answer you the way he usually did.

It was like he wasn't even present, he just ate your pussy like his life depended on it while ignoring you utterly. You couldn't even swear that he enjoyed it.

"Joel," you whispered again hoping that he might answer you but he didn't even look at you.

He just scissored you open while toying with your swollen clit but when you felt yourself getting closer to coming his eyes finally found your face again. He inspected you for a moment and then suddenly stopped. Your legs immediately searched for his body trying to trap him between them while your mind panicked.

"N-No, no, Joel, what are you doing. I was just about to come!"

"I know babygirl," he whispered running a hand over your sweaty hair while watching you almost lovingly.

"Please, I wanna come, I – "

"I know you do, sugar. But I don't care."

He rolled your nipple between his fingers again while you still tried to fight the confusion in your head. "Please, I –"

Your voice broke and your trembling hands gripped the fabric of his shirt.

"Save your breath, darlin'," he whispered against your ear before sliding a hand down between your legs.

With a clear plan in mind Joel started to rub your aching clit again only that this time he seemed even more determined. He went clockwise just the way you liked it and used your wetness as lubrication. You sniffed twice unsure of whether this was a good or a bad thing but soon you were so overtaken by enjoyment again that all you could perceive was his body and the hand on your pussy.

Your hand held his shirt while your face was buried in his neck and he let it happen. His heart was beating fast and you enjoyed the closeness so much that for a second you forgot about your frustration. That was until he denied your orgasm the second time tonight and this time you pushed him away in order to escape his touch.

"You asshole," you cried and tried to kick him with your feet.

Quickly he advanced towards you captured your wrists in his hand and yanked your head back by your hair.

"You were the one begging me like a fuckin' whore to be rough with you. You don't like what I'm doing? Mhm?" he mocked you while moving you to lay on your back again. You shook your head biting down on your shaking lip.

"Well I don't care 'cause you asked me to be mean. If you don't like it don't ask me next time. But now don't you fuckin' dare complain again."

You were still busy flashing your eyes at him which was why you let out a loud gasp when you felt the tip of his cock at your entrance and then he was suddenly inside of you. You hadn't noticed him unbuckling his belt and neither had you realized how he had pulled down his jeans and boxers.

You were dripping with arousal so you had no problems taking him and yet it had come so surprisingly that you tightly clenched around him which provoked a loud growl from him.

"Jesus…. So goddamn tight."

His left hand came down to cradle the side of your face while his right bent your leg back in order to reach deeper inside of you with each thrust. He hadn't given you a lot of time to adjust and just pounded your pussy mercilessly like there was no tomorrow.

"That's right," he mumbled his eyes on your face while you had problems keeping yours open.

"Atta girl. Nice 'n open for daddy…"

But when you buckled your hips in order to move accordingly to his thrusts his eyes darkened and he squeezed your throat as a punishment.

"I said none of that," he hissed emphasizing every word as if you were a little child that couldn't comprehend the simplest instructions.

"Stay fuckin' still or you're gonna get that l'il ass of you fucked. Would you like that? Huh?"

You shook your head and made a mental note to really do as he had told you now because you suddenly didn't feel like infuriating him any more.

Perhaps you had overestimated yourself a little or hadn't actually been ready to take all of him in this kind of state because all you suddenly craved was your loving Joel. The one who would press his face into your neck now to smell your hair. The one who would trace your collarbone with his finger or kiss your nipples. The one who would tell you how much he loved you and that he would never leave his babygirl.

"Joel," you moaned as if you were able to make him change his mind just by saying his name.

Of course he ignored you and unrestrainedly fucked your hole while panting loudly. Suddenly you were hyper-aware of so many things that you hadn't even noticed earlier. The way you were completely naked underneath him while he was still fully dressed except for his pulled-down jeans. It made you feel so vulnerable and pathetic suddenly that tears welled in your eyes.

And the way he pressed down on your tummy not only to make you stay in place but to show him how deep he reached inside of you. You felt used. Dirty. What you needed right now was to get some distance between him and you but there was no way Joel would let you off this easily.

"Joel," you cried looking up to him while tugging at his shirt but he had his eyes closed and his head thrown back.

In addition to your mental discomfort his cock thrusting in you had started to hurt as well which was due to the way you tightened around him. But while Joel thought the reason was that you were close, in truth your body rejected the intrusion and therefore he bruised your insides every time he hit your cervix while he felt like his cock was being torn off by your clenched walls.

"Mhmm, yes, sweet girl. Takin' me so fuckin' well. You're gonna make daddy come like this. Is that what you want?"

Once he had spoken these last words he suddenly pulled out which came so unexpectant that you widened your eyes and he then manhandled you on your stomach. Before you could understand what had happened Joel had adjusted you on your knees and pushed back inside of you taking you from behind.

You let out a cry that was muffled by the cushion your head rested against and as much as you hated to even just have this thought, you wished that he would finally stop. You couldn't uphold your facade any longer, your pussy burned, your head felt dizzy and you didn't want him to touch and treat you like this any longer.

Fuck your pride, you would ask him to stop even if it meant that he would never be rough with you again. Even if it meant that he would beat himself up afterwards thinking that he had hurt you. You would explain it to him. He hadn't done anything wrong, you just hadn't been strong enough to handle it tonight.

"J-Joel," you said a little louder your voice shaking so much that he raised his eyebrows.

"What," he hissed dangerously.

You whimpered every time his hips snapped forward pushing you deeper into the couch which made it difficult to speak but eventually you managed to press out what you wanted to say.

"P-Please, s-stop," you whined and at first you weren't certain if he had heard you. But then you felt a hand snatching your waist and he pulled up your weak body so your back was pressed to his chest. His big hand kneaded your breast while your nails scratched over his arm gesturing him that this was serious.

"I told you, babygirl. I said I wouldn't stop no matter how much you'll cry. And I won't. It hurts, doesn't it?"

A sob went past your lips and you could only nod.

"Mhmm too bad. It's supposed to hurt you, babygirl. 'Cause we ain't doin' this for you right now. We're doin' this for daddy 'n you're gonna give your body to daddy so he's gonna feel real good while you look pretty for him, mhm? How does that sound?"

He watched the side of your face while holding you tightly by wrapping his arms around your stomach and breasts, sensing how weak you were on your knees.

"I wanna hear your fuckin' voice," he breathed and spanked your left breast.

"Y-Yes," you cried, nothing but jelly in his arms and dropped your head to your chest.

"Good," he murmured through grinded teeth and kissed the back of your head. Before you were able to form another word of resistance in your head he had moved his hand to your throat to squeeze it lightly cutting off your air supply which turned out to be even worse for you physical state.

"Already fucked your brains out, huh?" he commented your mindless condition while gliding his hand between your legs to find your clit. You almost didn't notice it though, feeling numb and disconnected to your body, yet strangely being super aware of the way he hurt you with each thrust.

When you let out a croaked cry he perhaps realized that you really were in need of fresh air so he dropped you like he had suddenly changed his mind about you and you fell on your stomach again. At this point you were too powerless to even hold yourself up on your knees and luckily Joel allowed you to lay on your front.

Panic flooded your system again because you were sure you wouldn't be able to keep this up until he would come. You couldn't properly breathe and you really needed some water and a moment of peace to collect yourself. Your limbs were hurting, your tummy was aching and your mental discomfort only added to everything.

You loved Joel with all your heart and would never want anything about your relationship to change but right now he made you feel like you were being violated. Like you couldn't make him stop even if you wanted him to. Like you were his victim rather than his girlfriend.

There was only one thing left you could try. Your safe word.

You just had to bring the word out and make him hear you and then he would see the seriousness of the situation, hug you and comfort you.

You opened your mouth but no sound besides your whimpers left it and you squeezed your hands in fists forcing yourself to move your tongue.

"Rrr," you made and cursed yourself for not being able to form a word that was as easy to pronounce as 'red'. You clung to the couch as if it would clear your head and tried again.

"R-Red…," you said but weren't sure if it was actually comprehendable.

"J-Joel," you sobbed because why wouldn't he stop? You had said it, you had said the word you had hoped would never leave your mouth when Joel and you had thought of a safe word.

"R-Red," you whispered again as if it was a mantra but his pounding didn't stop. He fucked your pussy chasing his release with so much focus that he seemingly didn't hear your mumbling. You had to get the cushion out of the way in order to sound clearer but he pressed your face into the pillow and so your mobility was strongly limited.

You writhed under his grip so frustrated and devasteted now that you thought about giving up and just waiting until he had finished. And yet you repeated the safe word over and over again although you were not sure if you actually said it out loud every time or if it just happened in your head.

And then you passed out.

~~~~~~~~~~

Joel actually hadn't noticed any of your discomfort.

Of course he had noticed how submissive and weak you were and as much as he wished he could soothe you a little, he had promised you to be rough with you and that was what he intended to do now.

So no caressing your bare shoulder or taking your hand and instead fucking you at a punishing pace.

After he had dropped you down on your stomach again his hands dug into your hips keeping your in place for him while he bit his bottom lip at the sight of you. Your tousled hair and your pretty back that was so beautifully bent were mesmerizing and he couldn't help himself and took a handful of your hair to push your face into the cushion.

He heard you mumble something every now and then but he was truthfully too concentrated and distracted by your perfect cunt that hugged him so perfectly that he didn't pay any attention to it. He used your pussy for his enjoyment, felt how your walls fluttered around him, watched your sexy figure splayed out for him until he was eventually sent over the edge and came with a loud growl.

"Oh Jesus Christ," he moaned feeling his cum leaving his tip and filling you to the brim.

"That's a good girl," he whispered out of breath and pushed inside of you a few more times until he was sure his cum would stay inside of you.

He sighed loudly, pulled out of you and then slowly felt his mind getting to work again. He knelt down on the couch next to you and lowered himself to your head. With a lot more gentleness in his touch now he stroked your hair to the side to kiss the side of your face.

"Honey," he whispered and when he saw your closed eyes he frowned. "Baby?"

When he didn't get a reaction his blood started to pump and he saw red. New drops of sweat started to form on his forehead and his hands began to tremble. He was too full of panic now to have a straight thought and quickly pulled up your lifeless body and turned you on your back.

"Y/n, honey, come back to me," he stammered and held your face in his hands. 'What had he done??' Joel cursed to himself and ran his thumb over the area under your eyes. He stared at you, watched you with a cold numbness inside until he heard a moan.

"Y/n?" he asked his voice barely more than a breath and saw your lips move. Infinite happiness and luck washed over him that made him tear up as you blinked with your eyes a few times. Joel enclosed your hand with his and covered it with kisses while observing you with relief.

"How are you, baby?" he whispered and your pupils finally found his face.

"W-What happened?" you asked too weak to sit up straight.

"I-I think you fainted, honey. I-I… I'm so fuckin' sorry, baby, I…. I'm sorry, I was so stupid 'n I didn't notice that you were feelin' unwell, fuck, baby, I…"

He pressed your hand to his forehead and shook his head over and over again while you tried to remember what had happened.

"Are you thirsty? Hungry? Do you need anything?" Joel asked while watching you worriedly.

"Water," was all you managed to say with your weak voice and he immediately jumped to his feet to fetch you a glas of water. He assisted you and helped your shaky hands to bring the glas to your lip and then you emptied it with one sip. Then he put it on the couch table and caressed your cheek with his big thumb.

"Y/n," he rasped. "Please talk to me. I need to hear your voice."

You glanced at him still feeling shocked about the fact that you had actually fainted during sex but answered Joel.

"I can't remember everything. But I-I know that I was in pain."

His eyes had never looked sadder and a part of you instantly regretted telling him.

"I'm so sorry, babygirl. I can't believe that-that this happened."

His arms reached down to wrap around your shoulders and he pulled you into a careful hug almost as if he was scared he would break you. He gently pressed your head to his chest and you felt so wonderfully embraced by him that you closed your eyes getting fully lost in his strong arms and the warmth of his body. The hug filled you with fresh energy and when he helped you lay down again you felt strong enough to talk about more details of what had just happened.

"I think everything was too much. I know I said that I wanted you to be mean and I did, I really did earlier b-but… but I think it became too much and I felt so odd and-and used and I don't know, I… I didn't want it anymore and then my body reacted differently and it hurt."

He didn't answer you but you could see his eyes' reaction to every single one of your words. And you knew what was going on behind his forehead at the moment. He was beating himself up, punishing himself with his thoughts and telling himself that he was too bad of a human being to be with you. This time it was you who took his hand and you pulled it to your chest.

"I don't want you to be mad at yourself, Joel. Really. This isn't your fault and you have to believe me."

He swiftly freed his hand and furrowed his eyebrows.

"Don't you comfort me now, y/n. We're not gonna play this game."

Joel watched you for a moment like he was thinking and then searched the room.

"I'll bring you your clothes. You must be cold."

He didn't even wait for an answer and picked up your underwear, shirt and jeans and put every item on you with so much gentleness that tears gathered in the corner of your eyes again. When he was done he sat with his back against the backrest of the couch and pulled you in his lap his hand cradling the back of your head.

"I'm sorry, honey. I really am. I swear to god, I wish I could go back in time and just hit myself 'cause I was so fuckin' stupid not noticing how you were feeling 'n I'm really really sorry."

He spoke so quietly because these words were only meant for you and you unconsciously closed your eyes at the tenderness and intimacy of his voice.

"I know," you replied and held on to his broad shoulder, anything to feel more of him. "And I know you don't wanna hear it, but it's okay. I'm fine."

You felt him caressing your back and then he turned your a little so he could look at your face.

"Did you remember our safe word? You know that I'm always gonna stop when you say red."

He sounded so concerned that your heart already broke at what you had to tell him next but you wouldn't lie to him and so you watched him with eyes round as coins.

"I-I… I did. I said it but it was too quiet and you didn't hear."

His head dropped and you heard him inhale deeply.

"Fuck…," was all he whispered and you felt the urge to hold him firmly and tell him that you forgave him but it wasn't what he wanted right now and so you just enjoyed the closeness of his body while listening to his heavy panting. He needed a few minutes to collect himself but once he had he pressed yet another kiss to your brow.

"I'm sorry," he pressed clearly close to tears and you nodded. And you meant it. You weren't angry at him because it had been you who had asked him to treat you this way. And yes, he should've stopped once he had heard the safe word out of your mouth but he hadn't and so there was nothing you could blame him for. This whole mess had been painful and you definitely didn't want to go through something similar again but neither of you was responsible for it.

"I love you, Joel," you whispered hoping that it would perhaps calm him a little but he shook his head in disbelief.

"Don't say that, right now…"

"But I do. I love you so much and I'm not angry at you. You didn't hear me, how were you supposed to know that something was wrong?"

Joel shook his head again and chewed on his bottom lip.

"I should've paid attention to you more. And listen to you more closely, why do we have a safe word if I don't fucking listen to you?"

He threw his head back and bit his lower lip which looked so painful that you feared it would start to bleed soon.

"Joel. It happened and it's not ideal but I'm okay. Next time if something like this ever happens again you'll listen more carefully and then everything will be fine. We'll learn from it."

"I'll learn from it," he corrected and you rolled your eyes.

"Okay. But please don't beat yourself up now. As I said, I don't blame you and this was just a huge miscommunication."

He looked like he was thinking and put his thumb to his lower lip.

"Baby…," he breathed watching you with so much love in his eyes that you couldn't hide a little smile and Joel tightened his arms around you.

"I love you so much. It's just… You know I just hate to know that I hurt you. You deserve so much better, honey, I –" You quickly interrupted him by pressing your finger against his lips which made him stop  talking.

"Don't finish that sentence, Joel. How many times do you want me to say it? I want you. And I'm gonna want you for the rest of my life and this stupid thing doesn't change anything about this fact. Kiss me now."

He sighed and tilted his head but you needed him now and so you determindely grabbed the side of his face.

"Kiss me Joel. Please."

Of course he wouldn't make you beg for a kiss and so he leaned towards you and locked your lips. You smiled against his mouth your hands holding on to his shoulders and when he pulled back your cheeks were flushed.

"I love you."

He sighed and looked down.

"I love you, Joel," you repeated strictly and now a small chuckle left his mouth.

"I love you too, y/n. More than you can ever know."

You smiled brightly and rested with your back against his upper body.

"Then I guess everything will be fine."

[froggibus]

Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light. 

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ���World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug. 

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg. 

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands. 

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around. 

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. 

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing. 

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly. 

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head. 

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard contains billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out. 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately. 

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you. 

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—” 

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different. 

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems. 

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth. 

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you. 

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be. 

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut. 

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his. 

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on your shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves. 

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs. 

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall. 

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror. 

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn. 

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos. 

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone. 

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously. 

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face. 

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection. 

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

masterlist | dc masterlist

[askdrunkjimmy]

ADJ AU; Lore Master Post

1. Relationship Chart:

2. Character Sheets:

3. First Meet & First Impression:

Jimmy and Daisuke - Jimmy was adopted out of the system by Daisuke's parents after they had trouble conceiving. Daisuke was conceived (surprise!) around the same time. - They have a VERY close sibling bond.

Jimmy and Curly - Childhood best friends. - Curly didn't like Jimmy, but Jimmy "liked a challenge". - Curly has had feelings for Jimmy forever, but Jimmy is on and off.

Swansea, Curly, and Jimmy - Swansea was a process engineer at a manufacturing plant both Jimmy and Curly did internships with while in college. - "Work Dad" who always yelled at them (mostly Jimmy) for breaking the machines. - Once he warmed up he would tell them about his kids (and eventually his new grandbaby pictured above). - On their last day of their internships he gave them both his number to keep in contact.. - Invites them over for cookouts and other grill-happy holidays.

Swansea and Anya - Anya dated Swansea's son for a brief time. - Swansea ended up liking her better and still keeps in touch. - Calls her "his almost daughter"

Swansea and Daisuke - Met through Jimmy briefly - (Mod Note: this is a WIP friendship I'm still working some stuff out weeps).

Curly and Anya - Met at one of Swansea's 4th of July cookouts. - Dated on and off for about a year and then broke up because Anya was struggling with her sexuality - remained VERY close friends.

Daisuke and Curly - Brotherly relationships - When Daisuke was little he was IN LOVE with Curly (he grew out of it but Jimmy still makes fun of him about it all the time).

Daisuke and Anya - Met through Curly. - Literally obsessed with each other (platonically). - Daisuke cuts Anya's hair for her.

Jimmy and Anya - Met briefly at one of Swansea's cookouts, met officially after her and Curly started dating. - Literally fucking HATE each other but pretend to get along for Curly - Anya thinks his obsession with Curly while always leading him on is creepy and predatory. - Jimmy thinks Anya is (in his words) a "stuck up bitch" and likes to make offhanded comments to make her angry or uncomfortable whenever they are sharing a space WITHOUT Curly around.

4. Pets

Jimmy: Pickles - Bull Terrier

Curly: Nelly - Pit/Hound Mix

Anya: Honey - Landseer Newfoundland

Swansea: Tabitha - American Shorthair

Daisuke: Bowser - Box Turtle

I will likely add to this as time goes on because I'm so overly committed to this AU it's starting to become a problem....

[cinellieroll]

☆ more random obey me headcanons !

characters: the demon brothers! <3

small note: i am back. and i will disappear once more after this..also i apologize for the VERYYY LATE upload. i am not dead and i wont die until om fandom comes back to life i tell ya 😤😤

cw: none! :p

☆ lucifer:

- occasionaly has thoughts of getting a german shepherd but cerberus would get EXTREMELY PISSED if he did. also another reason why he refuses to let satan keep cats in the house. cerberus will gobble them up in less than a millisecond.

- has a pretty high libido (as if it isn't already obvious in the game..) he really enjoys taking out his stress on you everytime he gets the chance. buckle up buttercup ༎ຶ⁠‿⁠༎ຶ

- one if his biggest secrets is keeping like a few albums of him and his brothers back when they still lived in the celestial realm. he keeps em hidden realll good

- sometimes asks levi or mammon to help him with his D.D.D

- "mammon, help me with this." "levi, why is my screen stuck like this?" "lucifer you paused the video-"

- he likes silk pajamas :3 he also can't STAND sweatpants for some reason.

- once a week, he dedicates atleast an hour or two grooming his own wings and his horns. there's a lot of occasions where he transforms in his demon form for parties and such.

- reads newspaper while taking a shit. guys dont argue with me on this its real.

- he has cold lips but his kisses are always very passionate with you!

- very well mannered everytime he's on the dining table and eating. y'all will never catch him spill a single food on the table or his clothes.

☆ mammon:

- eats with his hands sometimes when he's alone. and if someone ever finds out his excuse is always "so what? sometimes eating food with your hands is a better way to savor the taste." and i completely agree with him

- cleans his jewelry a lot. he wants them dazzling that people will do a double take when they see his mega awesome drip. like "haha yeah yall cant beat me on this baby" type shit

- cooks the BEST beef curry. the level of spice is perfect-o and beel always pesters him to make it.

- during family photos, he's always the one doing silly poses. he does hand stands, he has his ass out on display, he's ON THE FLOOR

- always man spreading in class. like you can literally see him chewing on his pen from across the room with his legs sprawled out

- you know that empty feeling you get after watching a movie? double that and give it to mammon. man takes it HARD especially if it was a sad movie that he watched. he'll feel empty for a gooooddd while

- always breaks his earphones, so when d.d.d airpods came out he got really happy and bought like 6 pairs (he ended up breaking all of them too)

- blasts music like crazy when he works out and lucifer absolutely HATES his music style and thinks it's unsanitary and inappropriate. like ok whatever you old fucking hag

- doesn't close the bathroom door after he uses it LIKE BITCH CLOSE THAT SHIT RN

- follows all of his fan accounts on devilgram ugh my boy <33

☆ leviathan:

- there's just like random times where he'll suddenly remember all of his past cringe phases. and it like appears on the most random times it's actually pissing him off

- always fantasized about creating character designs for simeon ever since he found out he was the creator of TSL

- he has a bad habit of HOLDING IN HIS PISS. yes he holds them in. he developed this habit ever since he got addicted to gaming. luckily for him he's a demon but boy if he was human he would've gotten kidney problems by now.

- levi would never ever admit it but he enjoyed getting spun around by mammon when they were still kids. like mammon grabs his arms then just spins him around and stuff

- sleeps with his headphones on and now he can't sleep without it. he's just like me jujujuju

- he really likes alex g :3

- sometimes he wishes he was a magical pop star girl performing for people on stage because they always look so happy when he watches them

- loves being the little spoon so much. sometimes it's awkward with him when he's the big spoon because he's either trembling or really stiff like a log

- he enjoys kissing your cheeks the most because he's convinced he'll melt if he tries kissing you on the lips

- has a hidden album on his phone of stolen shots of you doing the most random shit ever. eating, sleeping, showering..💀

☆ satan:

- even when it's freezing cold, his feet are always peeking out of his blanket. can't sleep without his bare feet hanging out.

- doesn't need reading glasses but insists on buying them because he thinks it fits the detective aesthetic. unfortunately he loses them a lot and no one knows why

- besides lucifer, satan is very sleek and neat when putting on neck ties

- had a phase where he absolutely despised coffee and tea because he found out lucifer enjoyed it. deep down he knew he enjoyed them too and it'd be one of the reasons for his constant rampages..

- started enjoying lofi music ever since levi introduced him to it.

- out of all the brothers, satan feels the most comfortable crying in front of mammon the most. (can i get some big brother mammon appreciation out here? 😔)

- he's the type to practice his lines in front of the mirror before asking you out on the date! he just wants everything to be perfect for you and yes sometimes he messes up but it's your fault for being too pretty

- worked as a librarian once as a part time job and lemme tell you..sales went high as fuck after that and the manager even BEGGED him to stay for longer. (which he did, as long as he got to have free books :p)

- tried the "which of the seven brothers are you?" quiz and got lucifer.

- is very skilled with the piano and even made a few pieces that reminded him of you <3

☆ asmodeus:

- really enjoys ear piercings and even got one himself!

- owns a clothing brand in the human world and even tried making you the co-owner. it's a really big success and he uses the money to buy you gifts

- can't go a day without kissing you atleast once! he feels like his lips would dry if doesn't get to even leave a peck on you

- does that back arch thing in his room when he's bored 👀

- bought so many makeup products once to the point lucifer banned makeup in HOL for like a month 💀 asmo held a grudge for a while because he was lowkey kinda conscious of his appearance when he'd go outside. especially when he's in front of you! ;((

- second most followed user on devilgram! (top one is diavolo lol)

- if he had to choose a favorite makeup brand from the human world it's either the ones with the cute packaging (ex: flower knows, too faced) or the high end brands like dior

- changes bed sheets like twice a week because it's either he can't stand the feeling anymore or found a new inspo on devilgram

- says he's not easily influenced on buying new things like mammon or levi but the moment he sees something go viral he's already purchasing 10 of them. (and posts it on his feed to gain those likes)

- crop dusts every now and then

☆ beelzebub:

- finds those gross ass thirst trappers who sexualizes food nasty asf and is a big donutdaddy hater

- wins awards from eating competitions a lot and always ALWAYS spoils you and belphie first

- always the viewer in situations where one of the brothers fight w eachother. mans always there for some reason so lucifer always approaches him first when smth happens lol

- sometimes he goes overboard with body sprays

- he likes hand made accessories/jewelry. belphie was the one who made his choker on his everyday outfit and cherishes it everyday

- he thinks tongue piercings are cool but never went out of his way to get one

- buys burger merch or any food merch in general lol

- he was never really the type to care about his own appearance and only did the bare minimum to make himself look presentable. but sometimes he does feel insecure when people get too intimidated by him, especially when it's you.

- "mc, you're not afraid of me right? i won't hurt you. i promise"

- majority of the time he's the one who fixes belphie's bed and cleans his side of the room so lucifer won't get mad at him

☆ belphegor:

- has no shame in stealing pillows from furniture shops and always gets away with it

- unintentionally says the most sassy remarks ever and stares at you when you call him out for it

- being the youngest, he doesn't really need to go shopping for his own necessities because one of the brothers already buys it for him before he can even step out of the house

- when you'd go back to the human world, he'd always gaze up at the stars and wonder how you're doing and if you're getting enough sleep

- always constipated like idk he just seems like the type to only shit once a week lmfao

- one time (or two..or three) he accidentally used a different toothbrush that belonged to one of the brothers because he was half asleep

- hates the feeling of jewelry on him because he thinks it's just in the way. especially hates earrings because it's a nuisance when he sleeps.

- HORRIBLE driver and can't drive for shit. crashed mammon's car once because he fell asleep. and his in defense was because traffic was so long smh

- he can't live without his cardigans. always wears long sleeved shirts unless it's summer season in the devildom and settles for loose shirts. he also has a habit of pulling his sleeves that it nearly covers his whole hand

- very calming singing voice. back when he was still in the celestial realm, a bunch of angel kids would approach him at night, telling him to sing lullabies for them to help them sleep <3

note: had to repost :P ALSO TY FOR 73 FOLLOWERS! hiphiphorey

[acexsmhking]

TICCI TOBY WITH A THING FOR KNUCKLE RUBBING LORD I BEG THAT IS THE REQUEST

𝐀𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲

(𝗮𝗱𝘃.) 𝗜𝗻 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗰 𝘄𝗮𝘆

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ Toby relationship knacks

note: i actually just got done with a full sobbing breakdown so this ask genuinely made me giggle i love you😭😂

Warning(s): GN!Reader, fluff nothing else<3 kinda..

No cause Anon you’re so right, like idk about anyone else but I LOVE knuckle rubs just in general and Toby 100% rubs your knuckles. All of them!!

Especially that little knuckle bone on your wrist tho I guess that’s a wrist bone.. what the difference..

But omg Toby LOVES hands; he loves holding your hand, kissing your fingers, your palms, EVERYTHING!

Toby is a very very touchy grabby feely person like 98.99% of the time. Of course he has his moments where that depression or anxiety hits all of us and he just,.. cannot handle any human interaction

But trust! He is holding your hands, thumb rubbing your knuckles, occasionally bringing your hand up to kiss.

And Toby is actually very open about PDA. Toby doesn’t really care about other people’s opinions or feelings if it isn’t you.. Tim.. Brian.. and Kate. So. Like. Ya know.

He keeps it more PG around them but 100% expect that if Toby ever does wiggle his way into town with you to go shopping he will slap your ass no care

So yeah no one is like shocked by just HOW often he kisses your knuckles. And it’s a lot

Toby pretty much is always with you, sure he heads off for house chores and maintenance and food but other that Toby is with you the whole 24HRS.

So he just… holds your hand. It’s really great actually. Toby doesn’t sweat, and he’s pretty chill not necessarily cold. So like it’s weirdly comfortable and satisfying to hold his hand

Sometimes he’ll hold your hand in his mouth if he’s doing something but still wants some body part of yours

We love the little cutie patootie

Toby 100% is the kinda guy that holds your hand when you guys have sex. I mean it, he loves it. He craves it. It’s just so.. close and intimate like those sappy old adult movies

*sobs*

Not to mention if YOU kiss his knuckles? Yeah he feels his heart tingle; back flipping, doing the tango. Toby is a very big emotion feeler. He feels rather intensely a majority of the time

Like he will break down crying holding your face telling you how much he loves you…

Me with my dog

But he is just a sucker for love. Don’t get me wrong, yes Toby has his moments, and his flaws, and lingering issues. But at the end of the day it genuinely is.. exhausting. And Toby isn’t just some emotionally stupid person he’s stupidly smart if anything lol

Especially canonically

And sometimes after eating a family of five, with your weird demon friend and masked adoptive mom you just wanna go home to your beloved and hold hands

Nothing wrong with that..

Omg going on dates Toby 100% holds your hand across the table. I don’t make the rules

(Ok sure your dates are always at home or the picnic table he built for you but it still counts)

He also LOVEEES how your hands feel, especially that soft skin one your knuckles. He had very very worked hands and just lovessss the differences in textures it itches something in his brain

Ride him, hold his hands as you bounce he will get you pregnant. Sucks if your a guy or mtf he don’t give a fuck. m!preg bitch take that

All in all. While Toby is 99.98% of the time a chaotic bundle of cannibalism, weird morals, demon possession and neurodivergence when he’s with you his only the neurodivergent and chaos LMAO

someone draw Toby kissing some hands<3

: ̗̀➛ Thank you again for this ask I have actually been so stupidly stressed today and this made me feel better. I promise Deer anon and other anon I am working on your requests too!! Just well tumblr decided not to save half the progress LMAO deer anon yours should come out tomorrow! — Ace

[heykaya]

Happy to see you posting again!

Can I ask why Alex is your favorite?

hehe glad I was missed :3

Reasons I love Alex:

Gives you a job.

Gives you part of his farm.

Gives you a safe place to live and a room of your own, even before you romance him.

Will never rape you.

Will drop everything to run over and save you.

DOL-town royalty is threatening me (a teenager)? Lol let me tell Remy to fuck off.

Will also tell Bailey to fuck off to protect you, even to his own detriment.

Hard working and muscular.

Muscular.

Muscular.

Cooks you breakfast every morning, even at Max dom.

Gently bumps his head against yours.

Will spank you (at high dom).

Will eat you for breakfast (at low dom).

Scenic horse riding dates.

Smart enough to make drugs.

Comes from a family of farmers, still humble enough to listen to PC’s Tending tips.

Introduces you to his father who gives you $10k.

Actually has social skills and isn’t afraid to talk to people on the phone.

Is funny + can dance.

He’s such a good dad 😭

(Also I’m into that housewife tradlife thing. I used to go for Eden but he’s pretty boring tbh. Plus, Alex cooks you breakfast while Eden feeds you his leftovers. seriously wtf is up with that?!)

Like his dad says, he is dogged (super stubborn and persistent). PC has the option to stop Alex from being so fucking insane. Pulling him back from fighting a group of Remy’s goons, discouraging him from drinking so much and dealing drugs - they all reduce his Love. It doesn’t make him happy, but imo it’s what’s best for him. But since this is a game where even the bad ends are temporary, I join in on the crazy shit.

His biggest flaw is paying PC less at high dominance. I’m willing to overlook this because of the super hot spanking scene + you can make a shitload of money from the fields anyway. If he makes you mad you can call him a weak little bitch during encounters lol (his insecurity is strength).

Fr despite all of Alex’s abilities, I don’t think he’d be able to flourish and protect the farm from Remy without PC’s help. An orphan and a struggling farmer. One found a safe home and a family, the other made his dreams a reality. And together, they lived happily ever after :D

As happily as you can in DOL-town, at least.

(Also to comment on the others)

Robin:

Initially found him cute, but the more I got to know him the less I like him.

Literally PC's babies are less demanding than Robin.

Robin does not deserve confidence.

Whitney

The only thing he awakens in me is violence.

Dismissed every time no mercy gg

I agree he's super hot though. I'll enjoy him via fanart instead.

Eden

(see above)

Avery

He shows up once a week, gives me money, and fucks off. Very appealing!

I think he's OK. Just remember that he's incapable of truly loving PC.

As a source of income he's fine. As a lover no because of above + his dates are really repetitive.

Kylar

This guy should not be outside.

Sydney

He's very sweet and I get the appeal, but he's not my type.

[nanamineedstherapy]

Mouth to Meat

Cannibal Yakuza Sukuna X [Retracted] F!Reader

Summary: Dr. Y/N L/N is tasked with profiling Ryomen Sukuna, a feared yakuza boss known for his violent tendencies and taste for human flesh. Through a series of therapy sessions, she gains his trust—or so it seems. But Sukuna isn’t the only predator in the room. Behind Y/N’s professional demeanor hides a secret far darker than even Sukuna’s sins. When the masks drop, it’s clear: monsters don’t always look like him.

Trigger Warnings: This chapter contains themes of manipulation, torture, obsessive behavior, and violence (murder), twisted relationships, blood & gore, talks of cannibalism but none actually happening, sadistic behavior, manipulative characters, psychological horror, smut between aged-up characters who are a little OC (maybe idk.) If any of these subjects are sensitive for you, please proceed with caution or consider skipping this chapter.

A/N: I had to write this chapter because I couldn't let the bitch walk into the sunset with Sukuna without consequences. If you came here looking for sanity—you’re in the wrong place. If you came for blood, mind games, and a couple so unhinged they’d make Bonnie and Clyde look like amateurs—welcome home.

Previous Chapter 3 - Unravelling the first Red Threads (Tumblr/Ao3)

Chapter 4 - Love Like a Blade to the Throat (Final Chapter)

20 years later - Prague, Czech Republic

Somewhere within a palace of glass and grandeur.

The scent of roasting flesh wove through the corridors like a lover’s whisper, curling into the opulent sitting room where she sat, framed by floor-to-ceiling windows that bled light from the cloudy day onto the polished parquet.

Outside, the city stretched like a breathing tapestry—cobblestone veins pulsing with life, gothic spires cutting against the deep violet sky—a place of history, of culture, of meat .

She sipped her tea, an exquisite Darjeeling that Uraume had steeped to perfection, the delicate tannins swirling on her tongue, mixing with the ghost of her last meal.

A violinist played in the streets below, a haunting melody rising through the cold air, as if mourning something that hadn't yet died.

Sukuna was away, wrapped up in his Yakuza affairs—uninteresting, irrelevant. His business did not concern her unless it bled into her pleasures. And at this moment, her pleasure was solitude. The slow, methodical unraveling of the next course.

She ran a gloved finger along the gilded rim of her cup, watching the city breathe. The people—faceless, nameless, meaningless—walked beneath her like ants in a glass colony, unaware of their place in the food chain. She could already tell which ones would be worth her time. The elderly, too chewy. The sick, too bitter. The common, too dull.

Then there were the rarities. The ones who smelled of something divine.

She never discriminated. Child, woman, man—if they met her standard, they were meat. She appreciated the fine subtleties: the tender sweetness of youth, the complexity of a well-lived life, the marbled richness of one who indulged in excess. A trained palate could tell everything from scent alone—stress, diet, fear.

The best ones always had a touch of regret, like a delicate aging wine just before its peak.

From the lower levels of the palace, Uraume’s voice murmured instructions to the kitchen staff, knives gliding, bones cracking—the rhythmic symphony of preparation. The air carried the aroma of caramelizing fat, slow-roasted, methodically seasoned. A new acquisition.

A former artist, if she recalled correctly. He had smelled of oil paints and ambition—an excellent vintage.

A faint smile touched her lips as she traced patterns in the condensation on the windowpane.

The Japanese government had been searching for her and Sukuna for years, their relentless pursuit as amusing as it was futile. They had no face to chase and no name to whisper in their war rooms. She was a chameleon, slipping through their fingers like smoke, shifting personas like silk dresses.

She had once been a respected scientist, a leading mind in psychiatric evaluation. They had placed criminals before her, monsters they could not comprehend, and she had dissected them with words sharper than any scalpel.

But none had fascinated her. None had been worthy.

Not until him.

Sukuna.

Now how useful he’d been.

Nanami Kento had smelled of regret, of burnt-out ideals, of controlled rage masked beneath a meticulous routine. It had made his flesh all the more exquisite, the tension of his being seared into every bite.

Gojo Satoru had been more of a curiosity than a meal. A man who reeked of arrogance and saccharine defiance, the taste of him was almost overwhelming—too bright, too indulgent, like a dessert meant to be consumed in small, rare portions. And yet she had devoured him.

Together, they formed a rare combination of different types of meat that complemented each other beautifully. In fact, one could argue that they worked better in tandem than they did alone. The scent of sandalwood and petrichor still overwhelmed her senses whenever she thought of them. They were the only pair she had Sukuna personally age and dry, allowing them to indulge in small, exquisite quantities from time to time.

Their deaths had been art, a composition of pain and revelation. The moment they had realized what she was, what she had always been, had been sublime.

A deep, satisfied breath filled her lungs.

The violinist below finished her song.

A pause.

Then the next piece began—something somber, something hungry.

She smiled, taking another sip of her tea.

One day she’d invite her in for tea, and she’d never breathe again.

Suddenly, the cold kiss of metal pressed against her throat. A whisper of steel, a lover’s caress. The sharp edge bit in, precise, shallow—just enough to let warmth bloom against her skin. The scent of iron curled into the air, mingling with the fading notes of her tea.

She did not flinch.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, setting the cup down with a masterful grace. The porcelain barely whispered against the saucer. Outside, the city droned on, oblivious.

“Who are you?” She mused, voice carrying the weight of detached amusement.

“Doesn’t matter.”

The voice behind her was young. Rough with amusement, tinged with something manic, something starving. Close—too close. His breath skimmed the shell of her ear, warm and cloying with the scent of strawberry candy. That scent—familiar but off, like a memory half-rotted in the recess of her mind.

“All that matters is you are dying.”

A chuckle rumbled low in his throat, the kind that belonged to men who enjoyed carving smiles into others.

Her fingers traced the condensation on the windowpane. “At the very least,” she murmured, unbothered, “I should know who gets the privilege of killing me.”

He laughed, the sound sharp and wild, like the crackle of a fire before it swallowed a home.

“I don’t fulfill my food’s desires.”

So naive. So green.

Whoever this child was, he did not know her.

Did not recognize the years of artistry, the refinement of her craft.

But he would learn.

Her eyes flicked to his hand’s reflection in the glass, catching the faintest silhouette—a shadow barely restrained by flesh. Young. Vibrant. Pulsing with a thrill he did not yet understand.

“And Uraume?” She asked lightly, tilting her head just so. A calculated distraction. “They don’t fit your palate?”

The knife remained against her throat, but the air shifted.

“I don’t like pet meat,” he said with a rumbling laugh, something unhinged curling in his voice.

Her tongue pressed against the back of her teeth. That was when she noticed it. The stillness.

Beneath her, the kitchen, once alive with the symphony of knives and fire, was silent. The staff—silent.

Not even the fire crackled anymore.

The palace was dead.

Her lips curled, amusement flickering beneath her growing hunger.

He had cleaned her table before she could even taste his work.

That was a shame.

And yet, this boy—this laughing, overgrown child—had gotten inside. Past Sukuna’s guards. Past Uraume. That in itself was... commendable .

He would taste divine.

He would taste even better if she hunted him for Sukuna before he came back.

She started her plan. The one that had never failed her before because ‘men always led with their dicks.’

Not that anyone had dared to come after her before this, so the situation would be… unique .

“I know I’m a few years older than you,” she mused, voice as smooth as the tea she had been sipping. “But I’d really like to taste you before I die.”

The blade didn’t waver.

She leaned ever so slightly into it—a delicate pressure, a dance of power.

His grip tensed.

“I can show you things you haven’t even imagined.” She let the words drip like honey, her voice lilting with something dangerous. “Might even ruin you for the rest of your life. Make you compare every woman you meet to me. And if you’ve gotten past the homeowner’s guards, then..." A small, sultry pause. “You must be worthy of a once-in-a-lifetime experience.”

His laughter came abruptly, sharp and sudden, like the crack of a gunshot in an empty hall.

“Ahh, sorry, lady.”

He pulled away, hand gripping her jaw instead, forcing her gaze toward the figure—she hadn't noticed—standing in the corner.

Unmoving. Watching.

A man, twenties. Tall. Dark hair unruly, eyes shadowed with something that did not belong in the face of someone young.

Her brain flicked between them. The one behind her—grinning, feral—and the other, silent, still, with the patience of a predator that knew it would eat eventually.

“My boyfriend over there wouldn’t like that very much.”

A slow, teasing drawl.

“And I’m very loyal.”

The boy behind her—her would-be killer—let go of her jaw and took a step in front of her and crouched his gladiator form before her like a child observing a caged bird.

Close enough that the scent of him filled her lungs again—sweet, nostalgic. He reminded her of someone, but not enough. The base notes were there but not the full body of the scent.

Something was wrong.

Something was off .

“Besides,” he continued, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips beneath the large hood, the only part that was visible, “even if I wasn’t loyal and into women…” A pause, like he was savoring it. “I don’t think old hags with sloppy trail would appeal to me.”

Her blood boiled .

She was not old . Just… forties .

She was refined .

At worst, a cougar .

Her grip flexed against the armrest of her chair, nails pressing into the fabric. Her eyes flicked to the silent one in the corner again, his gaze steady, unreadable.

The boy in front of her smirked wider, tilting his head as if he could hear the rage simmering in her bones.

“Besides—” he drawled, a teasing lilt in his voice. “We’re related, Auntie .”

The room went still.

Something curdled in her stomach as he lifted a hand to his hood, peeling it back to reveal—

No.

The hair.

The shape of the jaw.

The way the light caught his features, so damnably familiar but younger, softer, unweathered by the years—

Yuji.

And yet—no.

This was something else entirely.

His grin sharpened, bright and bloodthirsty.

“Long time no see, Aunt.”

She did not let her expression waver.

“I thought you died in childbirth.”

Her voice was smooth, measured, revealing nothing. The wound at her throat was still bleeding, staining the delicate fabric of her dress, but she did not falter.

A lesser creature would have trembled. Would have broken under the weight of inevitability.

But she was not lesser.

Yuji grinned at her, bright and sharp, all teeth and madness. “Aww, well, we can’t all be lucky now, Aunt, can we?” He finished by booping her nose as he stood up to his full mountain height.

There was nothing human in his eyes.

No warmth. No mercy.

Not the kind of insanity she had known in her past lovers, in the men who thought themselves monsters but were simply misguided.

No, this was something else entirely.

This was a creature who would kill her, carve out her ribs, and dance inside the hollow of her corpse, laughing all the while.

He was like her, but tactless.

Her mind turned, cold and quick.

This was bad.

Sukuna’s relationship with Yuji’s family had never been cordial. This would not end well for her.

Not unless she could find an opening.

She refused to die on her knees. She refused to die, caught off-guard.

But before she could move, the other one—the silent one—shifted.

The dark-haired man stepped forward to say something, but Yuji grabbed him by the waist, pulling him flush against his chest in one fluid motion.

She watched as Yuji’s grip tightened possessively before he devoured the other man’s mouth. A hungry, desperate kiss, all sharp edges and insanity.

The raven-haired one stiffened, then let out a low chuckle against Yuji’s lips, something quiet and knowing, something that sent a ripple of unease down her spine. He blushed when Yuji grabbed his ass, his arms tightening around Yuji as he whispered something low, something only for Yuji to hear.

Yuji’s eyes lit up.

“Really?” His voice was laced with anticipation. He dragged his teeth along Megumi’s jaw, breathless. “Ah, Megumi, I can’t wait. I’ll give you anything you want. Whenever and wherever you want it.”

The—Megumi, apparently—blushed deeper.

Yuji kissed him again, slow and lingering, as if he’d  just offered Yuji something of value.

It didn’t matter.

None of this did.

Sukuna would be here soon, and these two would be dead.

She pressed the hidden emergency button beneath the window, her fingers barely brushing the smooth surface before retracting.

She cleared her throat, hoping to stall them with empty words.

But then—

The glint of steel.

A flash of silver.

The butcher’s knife buried deep in her throat.

The impact stole her breath. A vicious, grotesque intrusion that sent a violent shudder through her body as the blade tore into her carotid artery.

Her hand flew to the wound instinctively, fingers pressing against the gaping, bleeding maw at her neck, but it was already over.

Yuji’s voice ripped through the room.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking to Megumi!”

His face was painted in her blood, crimson streaks dripping from his chin, spattered across his cheekbones like a masterpiece of slaughter.

And he still hadn’t moved his other hand from Megumi’s waist.

Still hadn’t looked at her when he plunged the blade in deeper, twisting it viciously, backhanded, with the same ease as one might swat away an insect.

Her vision blurred.

She felt the warmth of her own life spilling down her chest, soaking into the fabric of her dress, pooling at her feet.

No.

No, this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

Her breath hitched, gurgling as blood filled her lungs, drowning her from the inside out. Her body convulsed, her fingers trembling as they clutched at her own throat, her own wound, desperate and useless.

Yuji barely spared her another glance, his attention already back on Megumi, his lips curling in delight as if she were nothing more than an afterthought.

Nothing more than meat.

Her body sagged forward, her consciousness slipping—

And the last thing she saw before the darkness swallowed her whole was the way Megumi smirked against Yuji’s lips, eyes glinting with something ancient, something feral, something that whispered—

‘You never stood a chance.’

She was dead.

Should have been dead.

Should have succumbed to the darkness seeping into her veins, to the heat of her own blood pooling beneath her like a grotesque lover’s embrace.

But she wasn’t… dead .

Not yet.

With the last remnants of her strength, she moved.

Ripped the blade from her throat, lunged—

Yuji caught her effortlessly.

Like she was nothing.

Like she was a toy whose final act of defiance only amused him.

With an almost bored flick of his wrist, he sent her sprawling onto the cold marble, her body smacking against the ground with a wet, sickening sound. Before she could recover, before she could even breathe, he was on top of her, straddling her hips, his full weight pressing into her lungs, into her ribs, into her very existence.

She gasped. The world narrowed to the warmth of his breath, the press of his steel thighs caging her in, the sickly-sweet scent of strawberry candy, thick and artificial, tainting the coppery tang of her own blood.

Yuji leaned in close, his lips ghosting over her throat where she bled out, inhaling deeply.

“Aww, the hag fights.”

His voice was honeyed mockery, dripping with amusement.

She glared at him.

He grinned, sharp and wolfish, his nose grazing the sticky, open wound at her throat.

“Ahh, you smell nice.” He exhaled, letting the warmth of his breath trail down her skin. “But I’m not sophisticated like you, Aunt. I can’t even point out what you smell like.”

She clenched her teeth, fury crackling through her veins.

“Aww, are you mad because you’re going to be eaten?” he murmured, tilting his head, “or because you’ll be eaten by someone so uncultured?”

She wanted to spit at him, to carve her rage into his flesh, but her body was no longer hers to control.

The corners of his lips curled, delighting in her weakening form.

The edges of her vision blurred. Her limbs felt leaden. The air, thick with blood, became harder and harder to pull into her failing lungs.

Yuji tsked, shaking his head as he sat back, still straddling her, still watching the light fade from her eyes.

“I guess the mystery dies with you.” He pouted, disappointed. “Such a shame. I thought you’d put up more of a fight.”

His fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, almost tender if not for the cruelty in his touch.

“You were my hero once,” he murmured, voice softer now, as if he were speaking to a childhood ghost. Then, with a sneer, he added, “And yet, you die like everyone else—pathetic. Gasping for air.”

He stood, her body already cooling beneath him.

Her vision darkened. The last thing she saw was Megumi, silent and watchful, stepping forward to press a bottle of bleach into Yuji’s waiting hand.

Yuji grinned, kissed Megumi’s cheek, and then—

The stench of chemicals flooded her senses.

The burn was instant. It set her nerves ablaze.

She screamed.

And he laughed.

She screamed again, her body thrashing weakly against the inevitable, her own agony peeling her mind apart like a scalpel to flesh—

And he laughed louder, tilting his head.

The last thing she felt was fire.

The last thing she heard was Megumi’s low, amused chuckle as Yuji whispered something against his lips.

Then—nothing.

The body was still warm when Yuji whipped his face of her blood and shoved Megumi onto the nearest table.

The same table she had sat at just moments ago, sipping her tea, watching the city below like some untouchable queen.

Now, she was nothing more than a stain on the floor.

With a smooth motion from one hand, Yuji’s hoodie hit the ground, revealing the broad expanse of his chest, the play of muscles shifting as he rolled his shoulders. His breath was heavy, the scent of blood and bleach clinging to his skin like perfume.

Megumi barely had time to react before Yuji’s hands were on him— grabbing, pulling, owning .

He smirked against his boyfriend’s lips.

They fucked right next to her body.

Yuji bit his neck in return, hard enough to bruise, hard enough to leave a mark that would linger.

Megumi’s head tipped back, his voice breaking into something raw, something real.

The palace walls swallowed his cries, but the floors beneath them carried the sound two stories down.

They didn’t care.

Not when Yuji’s fingers dug into Megumi’s thighs, gripping tight, possessive, worshipping in a way only a monster could.

Not when Megumi's nails raked over Yuji’s shoulders, down his spine, carving half-moons into muscle until he, unknowingly, drew bits of blood as he shuddered under him.

Not when Yuji leaned down, peppering lazy kisses along Megumi’s jaw, down his throat, whispering, “You drive me insane, babe. I love you, so… so so much.” Each word punctuated by a deep thursts that had Megumi ascending.

And Megumi—Megumi, who never surrendered, who fought against every chain the world tried to place on him—simply whispered back, breathless, ruined, “I... I love you.”

Yuji tugged his hair, making space for himself so that he could leave his marks undisturbed. Biting and licking while his movements never slowed down.

The doors slammed open, the room shaking with Sukuna’s presence before he even spoke.

“What the fuck are you doing here, brat?” His voice was a growl, venomous and sharp. His crimson eyes flared, scanning the room— blood, bleach, a corpse.

Then his gaze snapped to Megumi.

His eyes darkened.

“And why the hell is your whore here?”

Megumi flinched, his dazed mind barely processing the insult.

Instinctively, his head dipped, pressing against Yuji’s chest, letting Yuji’s larger frame shield him from Sukuna’s line of sight.

Yuji, however—oh, Yuji did not pause.

Did not falter.

Did not even acknowledge the shift in atmosphere.

Instead, he turned his head, growling over his shoulder, voice thick with warning, dripping with something feral.

“Don’t fucking call him a whore.”

No threat. No bravado. No posturing.

Just a statement of fact.

Sukuna’s expression twitched.

Something flickered in those crimson eyes.

But whatever rage threatened to boil over, whatever punishment he had prepared, was forgotten when Yuji turned back to Megumi and continued—as Yuji felt him clench around him.

The sex was always good with Yuji, but the moments like these were what made Megumi turned on for Yuji impossibly more.

Not the voyeurism, definitely not.

Not the power.

But the devotions.

Megumi trembled, overwhelmed, undone, his entire body wrecked from the sheer force of it.

The last push, the final claim, and Megumi’s entire body shattered.

His teeth sank into Yuji’s shoulder to stifle his voice, his breath stuttering, drowning in sensation.

Yuji—strong, brutal, relentless—pressed kisses over Megumi’s hair, whispering low praises against his damp skin.

He followed soon after, burying himself deep, his fingers gripping Megumi’s waist just rough enough to hold him still, but never enough to bruise.

Even in pleasure, Yuji never hurt him.

A moment passed.

Then another.

The world slowed, settled, the tension shifting from chaos to something intimate.

Still covering him, still inside, Yuji reached for the throw blanket on the couch and draped it over Megumi’s body before pressing a soft kiss and pulling out.

Megumi, oversensitive and in love, almost whined at the loss.

Yuji kissed his nose to shush him.

Megumi, still dazed, still shaking, flushed at the warmth of it.

Yuji smirked, his voice dropping low, intimate, teasing.

“We’ll continue this in a bit.”

Megumi shivered.

He simply nodded, weakly tugging his hoodie over his head.

Yuji once dressed turned to face Sukuna, who had long since given up trying to understand whatever the hell this was. He was busy thinking.

The scent of bleach clung to the air, thick and suffocating.

His eyes flickered between the cooling corpse on the floor and the empty space where his most trusted guards should have been.

Uraume was still missing.

His staff—missing.

His castle—silent.

And standing before him now, with all the arrogance of a cat that had just torn open a bird’s throat and left it twitching in the dirt, was Yuji.

The brat yawned, stretching as if this were a casual visit. He tugged his hoodie into place, nonchalant, unbothered, unshaken.

“I came to talk retirement plans, Unc.”

Sukuna’s eyes darkened.

The casualness. The audacity.

“I will kill you,” Sukuna growled, voice low, filled with venom. Then, with a wicked sneer, he added, “Then I’ll rape your whore.”

The words were designed to provoke.

Yuji’s brows twitched, but instead of the usual explosion—the feral, bloodthirsty rage Sukuna had come to expect from him ever since learning of his existence a few months ago—Yuji smirked.

Because Yuji knew.

Knew that not reacting would send Sukuna spiraling faster than any violent outburst ever could.

“How, though?” Yuji tilted his head, voice mockingly curious. “It’s not like you’ll live long enough for that.”

Sukuna’s scowl deepened. “Threats don’t work on me.”

"Ahh, but don’t you wanna know where she went?” Yuji asked lazily. Like he didn’t really care.

Sukuna had gotten an emergency pop-up; he didn’t think it was serious; he thought she was misusing it again because she just wanted some dick in the middle of the day.

Then realization slithered into his veins like ice water.

His gaze darted to the corner by the windows.

The corner where she always sat.

The dress—the dress he had bought her a few days ago, flickred to recognition—now just another piece of ruined fabric, clinging to a lifeless body.

Bleached.

Burned.

Destroyed beyond recognition.

A sound tore from Sukuna’s throat, something raw, something he didn’t recognize.

Rage?

No.

No, it was something worse.

Yuji barely gave him a moment to process before he moved.

Fast.

Effortless.

Like he was born to kill kings.

The same massive knife drove straight into Sukuna’s skull.

Sukuna fell to his knees.

Blood poured, thick and hot, down his face, into his mouth. His body screamed at him to fight, to consume the brat and spit his bones out across the marble floor—

But he couldn’t.

His limbs refused to obey.

Yuji crouched beside him on all fours, watching with the fascination of a child pulling the wings off an insect.

Sukuna growled, lips parting to curse him, to end him—

But his tongue was useless.

His voice was gone.

The knife in his skull was cutting through everything.

He knew.

He was dying.

“Damn, Unc,” Yuji mused, tapping the handle of the knife like it was nothing more than a misplaced ornament. “I expected more.”

Sukuna’s fingers twitched, reaching, reaching—

Yuji tsked, shaking his head.

“Pathetic,” he sighed. “You know, I was gonna eat you fancy-like. High fashion. Cannibal couture.” He grinned, teeth flashing, eyes glinting with unhinged amusement. “But now? Nah. I think I’ll deep fry your ass. Serve you up with ketchup. Maybe even wrap you in a burrito with some gas station nacho cheese.”

Sukuna’s vision blurred.

His limbs weakened.

He was crawling now.

Dragging himself across the floor, inch by inch, toward her.

Yuji let him.

Watched, entertained, before lazily kicking away the furniture Sukuna tried to use for support.

“Oops.”

Sukuna barely heard it.

Barely cared.

His fingers brushed against hers.

Cold.

Lifeless.

She had gone before him.

And now—he was following.

His vision blackened.

The last thing he heard was Yuji’s voice, light, teasing, victorious.

“You know, Uncle, it’s kinda funny,” he hummed. “I did in a day what the Japanese spies couldn’t do in years.”

And then—

Darkness.

---

Japan

The scent of burnt flesh still lingered in Megumi’s nostrils as he stood by the Mustang GT , eyes hidden behind sunglasses, hands in his pockets, waiting.

The city was alive behind him—the murmur of passing cars, the distant wail of sirens. Tokyo never stopped.

Neither did they.

He could still recall how they had to tie Sukuna along with his woman to a boulder and sink him in the ocean. Being cannibals sounded absolutely disgusting to both him and Yuji; it was more to piss her and Sukuna off in there final moments.

A woman and her son approaching broke him out of his thoughts.

The woman—blonde, aged by grief rather than years—moved stiffly, as if the weight of her own bones was too much to bear. Her son, broad-shouldered, protective, walked beside her like a silent bodyguard, one hand resting on her shoulder as if that could shield her from reality. He had to grow up too quickly when his older brother, some long white-haired idiot, got kidnapped by Y/N years ago, and they serched but found absolutely nothing until he met Megumi in college.

Megumi didn’t acknowledge them beyond extending his hand. The woman pressed a thick envelope of cash into his palm, fingers trembling.

He took it without looking.

In exchange, he handed her his envelope.

Inside was—photographs.

The last remnants of the woman she had spent decades searching for.

The last proof that her nightmare had an ending.

Her breath hitched as she flipped through them, her shoulders sagging with a relief that was almost indistinguishable from sorrow. Tears rolled down her cheeks, silent, exhausted.

Megumi turned to the son, offering him the envelope of cash back.

“Take this,” he said, voice as flat as dead air. “Leave the country. Never return.”

The son hesitated and looked at Megumi like he wanted to say something. But in the end, he took the money.

And they left.

Megumi watched Todo and his mother, Yuki Tsukumo, disappear into the Tokyo sunlight.

It had been years since Megumi first realized the world wasn’t made of heroes and villains—just predators and prey.

When he was a child, someone had killed his father’s best friend, his godfather, Gojo Satoru, Japan’s former defense minister. The same person had slaughtered Gojo’s husband, Nanami Kento, the nation’s most renowned psychiatric scientist for the criminally insane.

The murderer was never caught.

Not because there was no evidence. Not because there were no suspects.

But because no one ever saw the culprits again.

The perfect crime.

Or so they thought.

When Megumi entered university, he found him.

Itadori Yuji.

Shy, socially awkward, nerdy Yuji.

Yuji, who stuttered when Megumi looked at him too long.

Yuji, who was too eager to please, too quick to latch onto Megumi’s words like they were commandments from God.

Yuji, whose hands twitched when he thought no one was looking.

Yuji, who would do anything for him.

That was when Megumi knew.

Someone had to replace Geto Suguru after his unfortunate suicide.

And who better than Megumi himself.

The plan he had crafted with Higuruma would succeed. And it did.

Yuji wasn’t just insane.

He was Megumi’s brand of insane.

The problem was his family.

Toji and his sisters Maki and Mai were now breathing down his neck to let them ‘protect’ Megumi from Yuji.

He wasn’t supposed to become this insane.

They were watching, waiting for proof that Yuji had rotted beyond repair.

That he was too far gone.

For Megumi to kill him and clear his own name, forever.

They didn’t understand.

Yuji wasn’t a mistake.

Yuji was in love.

And Megumi didn’t want a love that came with boundaries wrapped in ‘unconditional’ packaging.

Megumi didn’t want a love who wouldn’t kill for him

Once he knew what he could have, he didn’t want to get back to dating a partner who would turn into just another ordinary 9-to-5 nobody—some lifeless, gutless thing that spent years chasing him only to grow fat and complacent the second he confessed.

Someone who’d let their body and mind wither, who would suck the life from him, siphon his ideas, drain his passion until he was nothing but a husk.

Sucking up his energy and drive and keep taking and taking until there is nothing left to take, then one day wake up and tell Megumi he’s changed. He’s not socially acceptable in one way or the other; he isn’t this or that when they never look at themselves.

No.

Megumi didn’t want it at any cost.

He wanted Yuji.

Because Yuji would never stop chasing him.

Yuji would never stop seeing him, loving him, prioritizing him over everything and everyone—even his own blood.

Yuji would never become complacent in any way that hurts Megumi.

Megumi wanted a love that could burn the world down for him all the while smiling about it.

And Yuji gave him that.

For seven years now, Yuji had proven it, time and time again.

He had slit throats and burned bodies and erased entire bloodlines for him.

He had made Megumi the center of his universe.

And Megumi would never settle for less.

So he decided.

He opened the car door with a click and slid inside.

Warm arms wrapped around him immediately.

Yuji’s lips ghosted over his temple, lingering, slow.

“You look like a hot celebrity in sunglasses, Megumi,” Yuji murmured in his ear, voice husky. “Keep wearing those.”

Megumi grumbled, but his face betrayed him, the blush creeping up his neck.

Yuji grinned, turned the ignition and shifted gears.

The Mustang GT roared to life, leaving the past in flames behind them.

A/N: And that concludes this love story—if you can even call it that. A relationship built on devotion, manipulation and an unholy amount of meat. Now, before you go—a poll. Because I love violence, and you love making bad choices. What happened Next with These Unhinged Murder Lovers? 1️⃣ Honeymoon in Hell: Yuji and Megumi take a well-deserved vacation, leaving behind a trail of bodies and stolen luxury cars. Will they kill a mafia boss for fun? Maybe. Will they adopt a stray cat? Also maybe. 2️⃣ Family Reunion: Toji Fushiguro finally tracks them down. Blood will be spilled. Daddy issues will be exposed. Yuji might just stab his father-in-law in the throat while Megumi watches and eats popcorn. 3️⃣ The Law Catches Up: An elite government task force has been assembled to bring them down. Can they outsmart the system, or will their next kill be behind bars? (Spoiler: They’re never getting caught.) 4️⃣ No Rest for the Wicked: They hear whispers of an underground cannibal cult. Instead of being disgusted, Yuji and Megumi decide to infiltrate, take over, and make it a real fine-dining experience. Vote wisely. Or don’t. Either way, they’ll keep killing. 💋🔪

All Works Masterlist

[wyervan]

Hiii i saw this post about how Slasher Moon would react if a stranger complimented his vertiligo and i wanted to know- How would he react if a friend or someone close to him complimented him or said his vertiligo is pretty

Cuz i find him real pretty along with Sun teheheehzehzjdhd > - >

(I love your Slasher and Yuletide AU so much they're really amazing i'm goin INSANEEE for them- the boys' designs are neatttt)

Have a good day/night :3

Referencing this post

Hmm well even from a friend, or someone he’s sweet on, Moon’s knee-jerk reaction to a compliment is still suspicion. Trauma’s a bitch like that ☠️. He struggles to let himself believe that someone could really think that of him. “Laying it on thick. Trying to butter me up for something?” he might joke back, but looking away, genuinity catching him off guard.

Too much flattery would be excessive, but little doses here and there and he might start to believe that you mean it… and then you have a bigger problem on your hands because Moon’s ego was already big enough 🙄. Remember tho, he might not mind being called a pretty bird, but he’ll always revel in being a little bit scary 😛

[l1ndseyper3z]

More gallavich headcanons cause you're tweaking about them just as much as I am

- they kind of become the new kev and v

- mickey ends up owning the alibi (kev sells it to him because he knows mickey knows what he's doing)

- ian still misses being an ENT so he kinda becomes the new nurse V.

- I get the vibe ian becomes a youth worker, him and Trevor probably stay kinda friends and Trevor gets him a job because he knows he genuinely cares about the kids

- Tommy and kermit actually think they're kinda sweet (in their own fucked up way)

- they become the designated babysitter for franny because franny ADORES mickey

- debbie will be like "franny come on we need to get you to school" and she'll be clinging to mickeys leg

- mickey goes soft around franny

- ian sometimes just stares mickey (kinda like when he was tryna see the look in his eye in like s2 or whenever)

- ian ends up getting a tattoo of mickeys name in the same spot as mickeys (also spelt wrong)

- probably like micey milcovich or something

- mickey gets all smiley and giggly when ian gives him a kiss on the cheek or head

- I mean you all saw him in 4-11 when ian kissed him on the head he looked so happy

- they don't have their own draws or closets they take what's mine is yours and what's yours is mine very literally

- like boxers and socks and everything

- they've had each other's dicks down their throats they do not give a shit about clothes

- mickey sleeps infinitely better as long as he's got a tiny bit of contact with ian

- you've seen their little touches

LOOK AT THEM.

- ian subconsciously nuzzles into mickeys neck every time they hug

- mickey makes fun of him for it but if he doesn't do it he'll bitch and whine

- they also constantly hold hands during sex

- like every single time

- initially mickey wouldn't have initiated it but wouldn't care if ian did it

- s9 and forward mickey initiates it and bitches if ian forgets

- after their lease is up on the west side they buy a 2 or 3 bed house in the southside and they're much happier

- mickey runs absolutely freezing so he's always stealing ians hoodies

- ian just brings a hoodie with him everywhere he goes just to make sure mickeys warm

- mickeys a surprisingly good cook and he always makes sure ian (and a potential bipolar kid) has good food with the meds

- ian fiddles with his ring constantly cause he doesn't wanna loose it again

- he finds it so endearing that mickey cares so much about the fact that their married

- he likes that its not a piece of paper to him anymore

- mickey asks without really asking ian to put eyeliner on like he did when he worked at the fairytale

- whenever ian goes through one of his downs if his meds are out of balance mickey handles it like a PRO

- whenever mickey does anything sweet or really thoughtful ian gets all smiley and mickeys like "the fuck u smiling about gallagher?"

- I love them 🙁

[oh-no-its-bird]

YESSSSSS WE GOT MORE THORNE AND VISCOUNT LORRAINE CONTENT IN THE NEW BONUS CHAPTER I AM CLAWING AT THE WALLS JUMPING UP AND DOWN TO SEE IT

Theyre so fucking cute I'm gonna throw up, I love their interactions. Thorne exists in some sort of perpetual state of "mildly uncomfortable" and Lorraine is so loud and overbearing in such an unapologetic way, it's so fun to see.

Thorne being "seen through" by Lorraine and feeling upset by it while Lorraine finds that side of him "charming" ,,,

I like how he says "You are actually quite charming", like, before he was presumably just another friendly merchant. A type of person Lorraine has for sure seen plenty of before, being who he is. But in seeing his smug side in just a quiet little expression, Lorraine is suddenly so much more endeared

Cute !!! I love them !!!!!

Meanwhile Thorne continues to be seen through by those around him,,,, tho now that I type this out, the last we saw him upset by being perceived a bit too hard I think was just Remilia? That's kinda fun to think ab

Meanwhile I think it says a bit about Lorraine too, like, he seems like this silly, unpractical guy. But with just a catch of an expression of Thorne's he was instantly recatogorizing him and going "(seeing you like this) I feel like I've figured you out"

I also have to wonder a bit at what exactly made Thorne feel so seen here. Was it his smugness at seeing things line up well? Or was it his fondness and pride in Remilia and his king? There are definitely a few different ways to read it

Anyways. Also losing my mind over the BONUS SKETCHES

THORNE IN SITUAT9IUNS SAOUGUHHFHHHH HH

[Car crash sfx]

Long haired Thorne is so pretty actually, I love him so much. AND THEN ?? THORNE IF HE'D INSTEAD BEEN CAUGHT BY PINA ???

Locked in a basement somewhere, forced to make potions he doesn't actually know how to make <3 He just sells them, Pina you dumb bitch !!! Let my man go !!!!

The fact that he's clearly in a whole ass cell is wild to me, oh my god my poor man. He looks like Pina's either been neglecting him or maybe trying to beat the answers out of him, or, likely, both.

I'm having fun thinking about this au actually. I do think he's try to insist he's doesn't know how to make (most) of the things he sells, especially the potions that Pina wants. Bc, yk, he doesn't. We met the guy who does, who's still in the demon realm.

But like. I can not see Thorne giving away who does make them. He cares too genuinley for his people, he'd never give one up. And honestly, even if he did, the guy is out of reach.

Anyways just. Thorne <3

I love the one within the villainess so much, we're being fed so well. Everyone say thank you Shiraume and Makiburo !!!

[typicalopposite]

Fuck it Friday - hopes & fears (from ch 3)

I was tagged by @agentpeggycartering @quintessenceofdust88 and @xtarmanderx

“Why would you agree to a party if you don’t want one?” Gena asks, dipping her fries down into her chocolate milk shake before stuffing them in her mouth. 

Tommy makes a face at her and sighs. “I don’t care about Evan wanting to have a party… I just— I wish I didn’t have to go to it.” He scrunches up his nose as Gena eats another shake covered fry and takes a bite of his own food. ”It’s not like it’s for me anyway.”

“Yeah but you’re currently holding the one it is for captive—” Gena says, leaning over her rubbing a hand over Tommy’s belly. “As you should until they are done cooking,” she clarifies, jostling the bump around until she is rewarded with movement. She smiles triumphantly then grabs Tommy’s hand. “Alright hun, if it’s not the party… what is bothering you. Why don’t you want to be there? Is it Buck?”

“No!” Tommy says a little too quickly, and Gena cocks a brow. “Not… directly. Evan has been… amazing.” 

“But…”

Tommy rolls his eyes and sighs. “It’s just going to be really awkward being around everyone… I guess.” 

“Did one of them say something to you?” Gena asks, her lax composure stiffening and she tosses the fry down she was about to eat. She’s so aggressively feisty and Tommy usually thinks it’s hilarious and adorable for her small size… but he also knows she’s a little crazy and would love to not have her run to chew the 118 crews’ heads off on his behalf. 

“No.” Tommy says— not too quickly this time so she doesn’t press. Not directly… he also doesn’t say. “I haven’t spoken to any of them since— since before the break up.” 

“Wait… did none of them speak to you at the hospital?” 

Tommy quickly shakes his head, eyeing Gena’s shake covered fry. She notices and offers it to him; she swears it’s actually really good. “They were all worried about Evan… so I just stayed out of the way.” He shrugs, takes a bite of the fry… and then pops the whole thing in his mouth. It’s actually not bad.

“Worried or not they could have acknowledged you showing up for him…” 

Oh, they acknowledged it… Tommy thinks. He shrugs and picks up one of his own fries and Gena pushes her shake towards him. “It’s not like they have any reason to.”

“Hon… they can’t just ignore you— and you can't just avoid them— forever. You and Buck are kind of bound together now by this little one.” She lays her hand on his belly and rubs until she gets a kick. “What about the one guy— with the funny name?”

“Chimney? Or— Well, I’ve always called him Howie.”

“Yeah him! You said you two used to be close!”

“Keyword…” Tommy says eating another fry. “Used to be…”

“Well you clearly got along pre break up… unless you’ve been holding out stories on me!” Gena smirks and shoves Tommy playfully. 

“No, we did! But I mean— I left the station and we just… drifted apart, I guess.” He sighs, and Gena sighs… and he dips another fry in her shake. “I can’t believe you got me eating this crap.” 

“Bitch?!” Gena gasps. “I watched you defile my grandmas banana pudding she made specifically for you by mixing in anchovies and sour kraut… get the fuck out of here with that!”  ~~~~~~~~~~

Leaving the tag open since it’s so late! 🫶🫶🫶

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

thinking ex-sorcerer!sugu thoughts 😔

[cloud-ya]

finally beat dark gaia today, had to draw werehog about it

[rubitheracoon]

I have gathered a vast collection of alastor doing the hand over the month and a bit hazbin has been out

I'm gonna continuously edit this post whenever I find more

Now sit back and enjoy these screenshots of the silliest guy in hazbin hotel :] (aside from lucifer)

I CANT ADD ANYMORE NOOOOOO

I reposted this with more images here :>

[twilightakiishi]

takiishi chika is not a simple man.

he’s hard to figure out. you can’t read him, hardly anybody can, and it makes it difficult to find things you share interest in. the first one is obvious— each other. otherwise, you wouldn’t be sitting across from him every morning, sharing his space. especially not over coffee.

every morning, without fail, a piping hot cup of black coffee will bring him from an impending threat to society, to whatever one peg lower than that is.

you don’t speak much in the morning, but he allows— or maybe enjoys— you to sit across from him with your coffee and breakfast. it’s peaceful, and quiet, if you’re comfortable being stared at. 

he watches curiously as you dip a thumbprint cookie into your cup and take a bite, washing it down afterwards. when you pull the mug back down, your eyes meet his inquisitive ones. tilting your head at him, you glance down to the other half of your cookie, placing it on a napkin and sliding it over to him with a soft smile. he stares at it, hesitating, before he mimics you. 

he blinks as he chews, and glances at you a few times, not used to being the one stared at. you avert your gaze so he feels like he has some room to breathe, and when you glance back up at him, he’s licking his lips. his expression doesn’t change, but you’re quite certain you know him well enough to gather that he liked it. 

your assumption is confirmed the next time you drag him along with you to the grocery store, when he disappears for five minutes only to return with a box of the cookies in his hand. and when you ask him a few weeks later what he wants from the grocery store, they’re the first item on his list. they run out so much faster when he’s grabbing one alongside you every morning, but you don’t mind.

not when suddenly, the two of you have another thing in common.

[pangzi]

Thame is the leader of the group. Pepper is the all-rounder. Dylan is the rapper. Nano is the main dancer. And then there's the most important member, Jun, who is the nuisance.