#no one can see him weak--but for the demon that's already cut him to the quick and yet continues to insist that his strength is perfection.

[reineydraws]

Is the renkaza a crackship?

nope! on ao3, they're the third biggest kny ship and the biggest kyojuro ship, actually--not that popularity automatically means a ship can't be crack? hm.

the definition of crackship is debateable lol but to me they're not cracky 'cuz the things akaza was saying during their mugen train fight and akaza's human backstory provide a lot of give in terms of connection points to kyojuro.

they're a ship for all the people who love enemies/rivals-to-lovers plots, and ships that involve a lot of physical fighting and/or searching for humanity, which are some of my fave things to look for haha. they can also just be deeply convoluted and toxic when romantically involved, which is its own brand of fun! (tho i personally tend to look for stuff that ends more wholesomely. angst with a happy ending my beloved. 💞)

i will say that while they're not a crackship, the au's where akaza just fucks off completely (like my au comic haha) or where kyo goes all-in on being a demon right away can come off cracky, but i think that's less "crackship" and more "crack taken seriously".

i hope this makes sense!

[lxkeee]

Just read your thing about lucifer with a morticia addams like character, and I already had alot of thoughts like, how would it be if lucifer then took her to the hotel to introduce her to the others, what would it have been like if she was at the hotel when lucifer came to see charlie, things like that, it was so great!

LUCIFER X OVERLORD! FEM! READER

—part two!

I'm gonna add a little twist to this;)

Which is jealous Lucifer lmfao.

PART ONE |

“Darling, are you sure you wanted me to be there? I don't want to intrude on your little family reunion with your daughter.” [y/n] says, her hand over her hips as she looked down (literally) on him. Her antlers form a shadow over his form, majestic.

“Darling, I promise you won't be intruding and yes, I want you to be there. I need your support.” Lucifer says pleading making [y/n] sigh softly, a small smile on her face.

“Alright, anything to make my darling happy.” she says with a giggle.

Everything she says and does makes his knees weak.

He's whipped.

Arriving at the hotel, [y/n] told him he should go inside first as she needed to take care of some... Pests...

Both of them are powerful beings so they are bound to have enemies that follows them.

[y/n] managed to sense those familiar presence who always wanted to take her down but failed spectacularly.

“Wait... I should go with you.” Lucifer says worriedly, holding her hands. [Y/n] just squeezing his hands in assurance.

“Do not fret, it's not something I can't handle and besides, they're nothing but pesky roaches that I could easily crush with a flick of my finger.” [y/n] says with a smirk before leaning down and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

“I will return quickly, and enjoy some personal time with your daughter. You owe it to her, hmm?” she says with a raised eyebrow and Lucifer sighs before nodding with a smile.

“Alright, just... Be careful okay? Promise me.” Lucifer says with a worried tone, [y/n] had to pat his hear.

“Of course, darling. I'll always come back to you.” she says with a small genuine smile, her sharp teeth can be seen before morphing her body into a shadow and camouflages with the surrounding shadows. Leaving him behind to deal with the threat near the hotel.

Lucifer sighs before eventually walking towards the door of the hotel.

Lucifer eventually met the staff and guests of the hotel along with Charlie. He doesn't like that Alastor guy, gives him bad vibes.

“And this is Niffty, she's our house cleaner.” Charlie introduces as Niffty begins to crawl Lucifer just so she could face him face to face, “I clean.” Niffty says with a giggle.

Charlie was nervous to say the least, she's nervous about what her dad is thinking about the hotel. Suddenly there was a knock on the hotel door.

The sound causing everyone to keep quiet. Charlie decided to open the door to see the infamous shadow demon, standing tall and ominous with a large grin on her face.

“Gree—” the tall demoness greeted but was cut off as the door was slammed shut.

Charlie decided to open it again to make sure she didn't imagine things, didn't imagine one of hell's powerful overlords in her doorstep, “tings—” the demoness continued but the door was slammed shut again.

Lucifer had to face palm while Alastor's grin widened as he heard the familiar voice of his deer friend (badum tsss) while also feeling a sense of deja vu.

“Charlie, dear. Can you open the door? It is rude to slam the door on someone's face.” Lucifer sighs with a chuckle making Charlie laugh nervously before eventually opening the door.

“May I speak now?” the tall demoness asked with a grin.

“You may.” Charlie said hesitantly but her hand was quickly grabbed as the demoness shook her hand.

“It is finally a pleasure to meet you sweetheart, your dad has been telling me so many good things about you!” the demoness says with a large grin on her face as she entered the hotel.

The princess of hell was confused.

“Wait... My dad told you things about me...?” Charlie asked as Lucifer walked beside the tall demoness.

“Um yes... Charlie, I would like you to meet [y/n] she's my.... lover...” Lucifer says, voice getting shyer at the end.

Charlie blinked, [y/n] just grins.

Charlie finally processed his words.

“She's your girlfriend?!” Charlie asked, mouth agape.

“Yes, for a few months now.” Lucifer says with a chuckle.

The others just stared at the couple, blinking as they tried to process it.

Well... They are both powerful and they kinda look like each other's type. They thought as they looked at the two.

“My word, I didn't expect you to snag the king of hell my dear friend.” Alastor says with a smirk, his familiar static voice catching [y/n]'s attention.

Lucifer's eyes twitch. This bastard knows his woman?

“Is that Alastor I hear?” [y/n] says with a grin, morphing her body into shadows as she teleports next to Alastor's side.

“[y/n]! It's been awhile since I've last seen you, how have you been my dearest friend?” Alastor greeted, bowing down to place a gentle kiss on [y/n]'s knuckles, a subtle smirk on his face.

Lucifer's left eye twitched as he looked at the scene in front of him.

He's not angry at [y/n], no, no. He is pissed at Alastor though.

“I should be the one asking you that! You've disappeared for seven years, I thought you already kicked the bucket my friend.” [y/n] laughs and Alastor laughed with her.

Lucifer quickly appeared on [y/n]'s side, holding a protective arm around her waist.

“Darling, I didn't know you're acquainted with this man.” Lucifer asked, his eyes glaring at Alastor.

[y/n] just chuckles, intertwining her hand with Lucifer's hand.

“Alastor here is an overlord so it would make sense we know each other. Considering we have our annual overlord meetings.” [y/n] explained, giving him assurance.

Alastor finds entertainment in teasing others and right now is a perfect opportunity to tease the king of hell more.

“[y/n] here is a charming woman, her presence is a real head turner. I couldn't resist getting acquainted with her.” Alastor says with a grin.

The others just looking at the scene happening between the three.

“Oohh... Drama...” Angel whispers to Husk, making Husk chuckle.

*cue the chandelier falling in front of them*

*cue the hell's greatest dad scene.*

[y/n] sighs, a small smile on her face as he watched Lucifer being shown around the hotel by Charlie and Alastor. [Y/n] decided to stay in the lobby as she wanted to get acquainted with others.

“So you and the short king?” Angel says making [y/n] snort.

“Indeed, quite a catch really.” [y/n] chuckles as she sat on the bar stool. Husk preparing her a drink.

“You know what they say, the shorter the height the bigger the—” Angel was cut off by Husk.

“I swear to God if you say dick!” Husk remarked.

“Heart! Goodness, Husk. Get your mind out of the gutter!” Angel laughed.

[Y/n] bursts out laughing, these people are so fun to be around.

“Goodness, you guys are so hilarious!” [y/n] says in between laughs.

Safe to say the others warmed up to her and her to them.

[y/n] spent the rest of her time just joking with the others, occasionally giving Niffty cleaning tips and Vaggie some suggestions on how to improve the hotel.

*Cue the loan sharks destroying the hotel*

Lucifer and [y/n] stood next to each other as they watched Alastor deal with the loan sharks. [Y/n] had an amazed look in her eyes while Lucifer just watched in slight caution.

[y/n] may be the type of demon who finds joy in others pain but at this moment, she places her hand on Lucifer's shoulder as a warning. [Y/n] can tell that Charlie was getting upset from Lucifer's remarks.

“Darling, calm down.” [y/n] says softly but Lucifer's emotions are controlling his actions.

“How can he have faith in me but my own father can't?” Charlie asked, clearly upset.

“Charlie, sweetie...” [y/n] says softly, approaching the poor girl. Squeezing the poor girl's hands in assurance.

Mother is mothering fr.

[y/n] can sense that Charlie and Lucifer needed to talk this out. Giving the girl a pat on her head before walking to Lucifer's side.

“Lucifer... I think it's time to tell her.” [y/n] says softly in his ear. Squeezing his hand in assurance before joining the others. Angel offered her some popcorn which she gladly accepted.

[y/n] looked so proud, watching the father and daughter hug each other. Her eyes sparkled in amazement as she looked at Lucifer's wings. It never fails to mesmerize her.

Lucifer finally agreeing in scheduling Charlie a meeting with heaven.

“Good luck, kiddo.” Lucifer says and extends his hand towards [y/n]'s direction. [Y/n] accepting his hand.

“You can do it Charlie.” [y/n] grins before the couple finally left the hotel in puff of sparkling red smoke.

“I hope Miss [y/n] visits, I like her.” Niffty says with a small laugh.

“Your dad's new lover doesn't seem so bad.” Vaggie says as she stood beside Charlie.

Charlie just smiled, “Yeah, she doesn't seem so bad.”

Charlie is glad her father found someone like [y/n], she can see the chemistry between the two.

“Are you okay?” [y/n] asked softly as she spooned Lucifer on his bed. Her arms wrapped protectively around him.

“I'll be fine. Thanks for being here with me.” Lucifer says softly, blushing slightly as he felt her place a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck.

“Anytime.” she says softly.

[flametrashiraarchive]

hi may I ask for

pussy drunk muzan please♡

Alright, look... I'm absolute trash for Muzan at the moment. I already thought he was hot and then that last Swordsmith Village episode just... ugh... I love him.

Anyway, I couldn't resist answering this right away. I've also done headcanons for human Muzan and demon Muzan because I'm a hussy for him.

NSFW below the cut.

He may be wealthy, but Muzan's life is far from comfortable. He hurts; he's angry, frustrated, he resents the world. Physical activity is hard on his body but the man still has needs.

Human Muzan

You enter his room when summoned, hopeful that the doctor has given him good news this time.

"Of course not. That fraud only deals in disappointments."

"I'm sorry..."

"Keep your worthless pity. Just... come here."

You approach his futon and gently take his extended hand. His grip is weak and unsteady. "Yes my lord?"

He arches an eyebrow, knowing that you're aware of what he wants.

So you get into position, lying sideways across the top of his futon so your hip is resting where he would lay his head. You lift your skirt and open your legs so he can rest his head on your inner thigh as he lies on his side.

Muzan doesn't speak a word. He doesn't praise you, doesn't thank you. He just inches his head closer and begins to lick your pussy.

You bite your lip to keep from crying out. If you make too much noise he'll scold you and stop, so you do all you can to remain silent. Muzan Kibutsuji is the only man you've ever met who eats your pussy solely for his pleasure.

He tongues your hole, lapping at your essence as if it could cure him, his deep groans vibrating through you as he feasts. And when he's licked up every drop, only then does he turn his attention to your clit, slowly circling it with his tongue, enjoying the way it swells from his attention, stopping when he feels you're wet enough again and turning his attention back to your cunt.

He goes back and forth between the two motions, taking you to the edge of ecstasy again and again until you cum. His long, dark hair splays across your thighs as he fucks you with his tongue and palms his cock. He strokes himself slowly, setting a pace which isn't too strenuous for him, and all the while he continues licking your overstimulated clit in those long, slow circles, making your muscles tighten with every torturous lap.

He keeps going, his groans getting louder as he makes you cum once more and he keeps on stroking his cock.

"Mm-more," he moans, his deep, commanding voice cracking with desperation. "Nghh... give it... to me."

His composure breaks entirely as he shudders through his orgasm, his eyes squeezed shut as he sucks your clit, tonguing it to get you off one last time.

The doctors confirmed long ago that Muzan cannot produce heirs, but that doesn't stop him from fingering his cum into your pussy, making sure you take in every last drop of it before he lifts his head and says flatly. "I'm finished. You may leave."

----------------------------------

Demon Muzan.

Muzan appears accompanied by the sudden strum of a biwa, standing behind his work desk. "Get over here. Assume the position."

Thick veins throb in his forehead and his crimson eyes are murderous.

Either the upper moons have pissed him off again, or his latest experiment to reproduce the blue spider lily potion has gone awry. And when he's in a rage like this only one thing that can calm him.

You climb onto his desk on your hands and knees and put your chest down, sticking your ass in the air toward him.

"See? My requests are so simple and yet you are the only one who seems capable of obeying them." He slides a finger down your slit, spreading your growing wetness. "You bow for your king as you should."

"Because I-"

"Silence."

A low, primal growl rolls from the depths of his chest as he leans forward until his face is no more than an inch from your pussy. And then he inhales.

That's all the warning you get before he drags his tongue slowly from your clit down to your hole with a deep groan.

"Oh, you never disappoint me," he whispers, though whether he's speaking to you or that specific part of you, you aren't certain.

He starts with small, fluttering licks, teasing your sensitive flesh with the tip of his tongue. But before long he can't hold back, and his licks become frantic and sloppy, devouring you with fervent hunger.

Outside of this room he appears cold, calculating, elegant and distinguished, but you bring out an all together different sort of beast.

"Muzan!" You bite your knuckles to keep from crying out and incurring his wrath.

He grips the backs of your thighs and parts your folds with his thumbs, pushing his tongue deeper into you. His wanton moans fill the room as he drags his tongue over your flesh again and again. You can't hold back from crying out in pleasure as you cum, your pussy throbbing with ecstasy as he continues eating you.

As a demon, he has the strength to fuck you like he always wished he could as a human. At the sound of your desperate cry, the last remnant of his restraint snaps. He stands, licking your essence from his lips as he thrusts his cock inside you, shivering at the sensation before he starts to pump his hips back and forth.

His elegant fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place, burying himself to the hilt inside you and fucking you with short, fast thrusts, keeping your cunt stuffed full of him.

"Oh... oh... yes..." he grunts beneath his breath.

He pulls out only to push two fingers into you, pumping them back and forth before he takes them out again and stuffs his cock back in. And as he fucks you harder, faster, he brings those fingers to his mouth and sucks the taste of you from them.

That's enough to send him over the edge; your exquisite taste accompanied by the sensation of your needy cunt squeezing his cock. His back arches as he cums, baring his teeth as he fills you.

His breath is hot and heavy as his lips graze your shoulder blades.

"Such a good and obedient servant," he whispers, his hair falling over his brow.

And then he straightens his back, regains his composure, and disappears once more, accompanied by the strum of a biwa.

[mrsshabana]

Modern/after all odds Gyutaro definitely did it on the motorcycle despite the risk in being a secluded alleyway or smth since someone was needy and impatient. Gyutaro would have it on or even rev it up sitting backwards while having y/n ride him. The hypersexual thoughts have lead me to a wild imagination once again 😞 Also can I be the 🍰 anon if its not already claimed? ^^

𝐀𝐀𝐎 𝐆𝐲𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐱 𝐅!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⋆ 𝐌𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐲𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱

꒦꒷‧₊ Content Gyutaro x female!reader, 18+ MDNI, Against All Odds au, public sex, vaginal sex, creampie (if you aren't familiar with my Against All Odds fic, it's an au where demons live amongst humans in a modern au. And all of the kny demons go to university with reader.) ꒦꒷‧₊ Note I decided to write about AAO Gyutaro since I really miss writing that au! And of course, you can be the 🍰 anon if you'd like. Sorry for answering this so late btw. I've been working on other things lately but I was in the mood to write something quick today so I hope you all enjoy it. ♡

"That fucking student council meeting took so long, what the hell were you guys talking about anyways?" Gyutaro growls as he parks his bike behind the science building.

"Douma couldn't decide what color banners we needed for the festival this weekend," you giggle, watching your boyfriend's face contort in annoyance.

"Idiot," he rolls his eyes and turns off his bike, "Making me wait so damn long..."

You look around, confused as to why he is stopping behind the science building on campus. "Um Gyu, why are you stopping here?"

He flips around so he can face you and begins to unbutton his pants, "Cuz I'm gonna fuck you."

'WHAT!?" You yelp, and Gyutaro immediately covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shut it!" he snarls, "I've been so horny all goddamn day ever since you put on that stupid skirt this morning. And now since you made me wait so long, I don't have any other choice but to fuck you right here."

He smirks and pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring free, already incredibly hard. The large vein that runs down the side of it already popping out, that's how you know he's been hard for quite a while.

"B-Babe I-," you start but he cuts you off.

"Shh, it's ok. The sun's already gone down so no one will see us. I promise..."

He bites his lip and pulls you in for a kiss. His other hand goes under your skirt, slipping into your panties to feel you've already started to get wet. But how can you not when seeing him so hot and bothered for you?

Pleased by this, he groans and pulls you into his lap. Slowly bucking his hips, gliding his cock along your slick panties.

"Gyu..." you whimper, "maybe we should move off the bike. I wouldn't want it to fall over..."

"Typical human, always worrying," he smiles, showing off his sharp teeth, "It won't fall over, I promise. My feet are on the ground so I can balance it while you ride me."

"R-ride you?" your entire face goes red. Usually, your boyfriend is on top, taking control and plunging into you aggressively is his favorite way to have sex. So it isn't often that he asks you to be on top, but you can't deny that you enjoy doing it. And he does too, it's just that most days he can't stop himself from fucking you silly. But today he doesn't have much choice.

"C'mon baby, you can handle it right?" He smirks mischievously as if challenging you.

"Of course I can!"

"I dunno... maybe you're too weak to take it. I mean you are just a pathetic human after all," he teases.

You furrow your brows, determined to prove him wrong. So you lift your hips, move your panties to the side, and gently lower yourself onto him.

"F-fuck," a breathy moan leaves his lips as he sinks into you and bottoms out.

"That shut you up, huh?" you tease back as you begin riding him.

He can't deny that you took his breath away, he didn't expect you to take control like you did. His nails dig into your thighs as you pick up the pace. Moaning loudly as you bounce on his lap, squelching sounds filling the air as his thick shaft splits you apart.

"C-C'mon babe ah, if you k-keep movin' like that I'm gonna cum too soon," he clenches his teeth and tries to hold back his moans.

"I don't want us to get caught," you gasp, "Ngh- you do want to cum in me don't you?"

"C-course I do," a needy moan escapes him. He moves his hands to your hips and begins to move you up and down, assisting you in your motion.

You lean forward until his cockhead slams into your sweet spot, "Ah- right there!" Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the mess between your legs spreads all over your thighs.

Your legs are beginning to feel sore but you're too determined to chase your high to even care. Moving faster and faster despite the pain and your thighs trembling.

Usually, your boyfriend would take over at this point but he's too high on cloud nine to pay attention to anything but the way your slick walls wrap around him and squeeze him so tightly. Making it impossible for him to hold back any longer.

And with a strained groan, his nails dig into your skin, his cock twitches inside of you, and he leans back - accidentally revving his bike. But he's too busy filling you with his seed to even care.

Wanting to make sure he got his cum as deep as possible he tightly grabs your hips and thrusts up into you. Creating an absolute mess. A combination of his cum and your slick splattering all over your skirt and the seat of his bike.

You were already getting so close, but now the breeding instinct of your demon boyfriend brings you over the edge. Your walls tightening around him as your desperate moans fill the air.

Gyutaro smirks, pleased with himself as you slump over onto him. Feeling your body shake uncontrollably, he feels satisfied.

"That's it baby," he whispers as he gently kisses the side of your face, "You did so good for me."

"We should do this again sometime..." you whimper and nuzzle against him.

He smirks, "Hell yeah, but let's get you home and cleaned up for now."

He ignores the mess on his bike and pulls his pants up. Then he turns, positions himself properly, and shifts his bike back into drive.

"You good back there?" he shouts, making sure you're holding on tightly.

"Mm hm," you nod, wrapping your arms around him and leaning your head on his back.

"Y'know, maybe we could do this every week after your student council meetings," he snickers as he revs the engine.

[weebsinstash]

I want yandere Alastor being the biggest fucking hypocrite on the block and getting painfully humbled by reality so fucking bad you don't understand

I want a story where you stumble into becoming his friend with benefits, become the person who gets him interested in sex as a physical activity, and then one day you ask him "hey, what are we?" And his response being ABSOLUTELY RUDE AS HELL, albeit unintentionally, and you immediately cut him off from sex because his reply was basically the equivalent of "you're fun to sleep with, but the rest of you? No :)" (and also maybe he didn't even fully mean it, maybe he only partially meant it but he can tell he's forming some kind of new emotion for you and he doesn't want that to become a point of weakness for him so he's pushing you away but once you're actually gone he wants you back more than ANYTHING--)

I want yandere Alastor who laughs in your face if you nervously ask him if you're his girlfriend or something but then when you show up around town with another man less than a week later and he sees how easily you REPLACED HIM, he's just absolutely losing his mind. What do you MEAN you were still sleeping with other men this whole time?!?! The Radio Demon was getting SLOPPY SECONDS??? WHY would you let these-these disgusting bastards DEGRADE YOU-- meanwhile you and him could've been having like hardcore bdsm sex with actual degradation or some semi respectful form of it and he's STILL over here "B B BUT THESE MEN PROBABLY DONT EVEN RESPECT YOU--" and neither did you, you laughed in my fucking face you bitch!!!

yandere Alastor just having to sit and have a fulllll glass of whiskey and ruminate on his thoughts as he tries to come to terms with these sudden EXTREMELY POSSESSIVE feelings and urges he has. What do you MEAN he wasn't providing anything for you that you couldn't get somewhere else AND BETTER AND ALREADY HAVE BEEN? what do you MEAN you're making gifts for and going out and having actual fun dates with some of these men? What do you fucking MEAN YOU'RE 'ROMANTICALLY INVOLVED WITH SOMEONE ELSE NOW' AND WOULDN'T SLEEP WITH ALASTOR EVEN IF HE APOLOGIZED BECAUSE YOU REALLY LIKE THIS GUY--

Alastor hardcore coping, trying not to think about you at all, telling himself he just needs time and this'll all blow over and he wont even think about you anymore, and eventually finds his feet carrying him to your favorite jazz club that he would take you to, AND YOU'RE ALREADY THERE WITH ANOTHER MAN. Now THIS is what causes Alastor to finally have a public episode. No, some RANDO can't come with you HERE, this is YOUR place, OUR place, it's special, it's for Alastor and you ONLY!! basically turns him into a little kid stomping his foot going no no no that's MINE!!!

This narcissistic ass man really ain't shit, over here responding to your actually extremely valid question of "what are we?" because you were actually trying to respectfully ask him if there were any certain boundaries or if you were now exclusive, and he hits you with some deflective dehumanizing diversion like "what makes you think I would have THOSE kinds of feelings about YOU?" until he's painfully aware you're sleeping with another man, kissing another man, making hot meals for another man, holding his hand tenderly as you take a leisurely stroll, GOD FORBID HE CATCHES WIND OF ANY MARRIAGE TALK, HE WILL FUCKING L O S E IT

Juat the idea of him being so close to having what he wants - your body, heart, AND mind- and he fucks it up big time and ruins your relationship and self esteem so badly. He tries to pretend that he doesn't need your attention and/or affection but the second he doesn't have EITHER, he's a jealous mess trying to literally one-up whomever you're with, show off, impress you, usually digging his hole even deeper. Alastor becoming more unpredictable over time, literally losing sleep over you, absolutely CONVINCED 500% that all of these, shall we say, "more modern men" that you're choosing are not even worth the dirt in the treads of your shoes.

Just twirling my hair kicking my feet thinking bout yandere Alastor, becoming dead-set on genuinely and fully believing he has to save you not just from these men, but also yourself. Oh honey, he's so sorry, CLEARLY this is his fault for not watching over you better. He already knew you were... delicate and naive, but here you are, running around letting these men treat you like some kind of object just because you need what you perceive as acceptance and validation. It almost breaks his heart, truly, but don't worry darlin'! He's a southern gentleman and, SURELY he can turn up the charm and make it clear to you that you MISUNDERSTOOD HIM, right? :) You're going to GIVE HIM ANOTHER CHANCE, right? :)

genuinely, i feel like this man is more likely to try and gaslight you into believing you completely misinterpreted what he said instead of just apologizing let alone ADMITTING that he himself didn't communicate jack shit about shit, wasn't honest or up front about his feelings, and may have even be intentionally cruel to you in a moment of weakness to try and keep his own insecurities at bay, but then is fully capable of convincing, some may even say BRAINWASHING you into believing, oh sweetie, if these DEGENERATE DELIQUENTS somehow convinced you that your best friend and future husband is somehow your enemy, then, CLEARLY he hasn't been keeping you close enough to properly care for you and help you keep a clear head, has he? guess it's a good thing both of you are Sinners and he has NOTHING but time to show you EXACTLY what his intentions are. So, dear doe, which do you like the sound of more: a spring wedding, or a summer wedding, or maaaaaybe you two could even get hitched during some lovely acid rain so your new spouse can demonically laugh at all your screaming "gentleman callers" captive in the wedding audience who "accidentally" weren't put under any gazebos or any sort of protection while being forced to watch Alastor take you away--

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hello!! I love your writing! I was wondering if you could do Alastor with a S/O who used to be a demon slayer? Feel free to delete this request! Have a great day/night!

Hehe. Interesting! Alastor be like; “of course demons exist. Why did you even kill them” but anyway! I actually really like this idea, thank you!

Alastor- All the More Demons

Alastor just laughs at you when you explain yourself to the Staff… or more specifically to Charlie. You? Hunting entities called demons. A demon slayer? What drugs did you take when you died?

Alastor, at first, didn’t believe you one bit and even ridiculed you, calling your past life as a Demon Slayer in the Tashio Era of Japan some silly fantasy that you read. Demons exist, yes, but only in Hell. There is no such things as the demons you described

Of course, you’re quite distant and uninterested in Alastor as an exchange, for the way he mocked your life as a Demon Slayer. He was alive during the 1910s-1920s and he never once heard about demons

Overtime of the overtime, Alastor decides to soften up and not bully you so hard about this life you openly detailed to Charlie(who was literally the only one who believed you) . You actually seem like a wonderful and kind person, your swordsman skills are incredible, you’re quite fast, flexible and agile for a ordinary sinner and you use something called a… Breathing Style. He’s curious how this works

And when he finds out it’s an ancient Japanese swordsman battle technique, he is surprised you’re NOT an Overlord with how strong the Nichirin Katana and your Breathing Style is. You could outspeed many of the Overlords he knows, Alastor is curious why you haven’t tried to become like him

It’s a long, slow, burning process but Alastor grows to completely believe you thought demonic monstrous human-devouring entities called ‘demons’ in an older era of Japan. Your mannerisms, your clothing, your weapons of choice and even your appearance all scream a Japanese person and scream a Japanese person from a time as old as his

Alastor finds you speaking Japanese so fluently gorgeous. In Japanese, you could recite the Bible and he’d be listening with all of his attention. It’s just a beautiful, hypnotising language he is in love with… possibly as much as he is in love with you

You had managed to put Alastor into a Demon Slayer Uniform once and you won’t deny, he looks like a really good Demon Slayer

Alastor tries to encourage you to teach other sinners to be a Demon Slayer or better yet, a Hashira like yourself. To be incredible with a sword and so fast, it looks like you can teleport. However, you insist the art of this sword isn’t that easy to spread around so he decides to drop it

Alastor is always impressed by your skills. You don’t need actual souls to beat down your enemies, you have raw skills. Skills of a refined samurai and it’s so incredible. He is like a big old fanboy anytime he watches you fight

Alastor has never worn a kimono before and when he tries on one with you, he has you put on a New Orleans old-fashioned outfit. You two admire each other in one another’s fashion styles. Nowadays, you both swap outfits for fun and it looks great

Alastor gets to hold your katana once and he’s already cutting apart everything around him. You just ask him to stick to his own magic, you felt like you were handling a child with a knife when seeing your boyfriend/husband handle your Nichirin Katana

Alastor is doing his best to catch you off your guard but it feels like you never drop your guard, your senses are refined and you always respond whenever Alastor attempts to wrap his arms around your waist when you’re not looking at him. He is determined to get you… one day

Alastor loves your Tashio Era Japanese dishes. He is a big foodie and he loves the foods you make with him. It’s so fascinating, what else do you have to surprise him with? He always ponders this question

Alastor doesn’t believe you’re weak at all and in-fact, he’ll let you fight on your own. Only when you’re struggling, will he ever jump in. He believes in your skills and your battle experience so much that his protectiveness is controllable. He feels much more pride for you than anything when you’re cutting exterminators apart effortlessly

Alastor is always the same as he is with his partners; doting, loving, teasing, playful, cuddly, protective but with a ex-Hashira partner. He respects you even more, your history and your abilities are not a display that you’re a damsel. No, it’s a display that you’re the fighter. That doesn’t mean he won’t want to play your protector, put you to bed when you’re honing your skills until the early morning ‘sun’ rises up, take care of you

“My dearest, please. Let’s put the katana down and let’s go to bed. You’ve been training for over ten hours, you deserve a rest and I’ll be right there to accompany you”

[dilftaroooo]

₊✩‧₊◜ ── SUKUNA MEETING YOU FOR THE FIRST TIME

★ tags: aged up characters + sukuna is still in yuji’s body + fem!reader + suggestive content + university au + implied smut + sukuna calls u a "broad" + and he sends u d3ath thr3ats + then he wants u :D + hints of true form!sukuna + reader is a sorcerer + and pretty daring.

Just a random thought but I feel like the first time Sukuna meets you would be sooo interesting:

You are an outlaw–a label the Higher-ups deemed you as (to which you agree because it makes you sound cooler). Getting you to follow through with missions is damn near impossible when you're seldom there at the university but you're everywhere else; parties, bars, get-togethers with childhood friends, at that restaurant everyone's been talking about. Everywhere but there.

There are times when you do make your appearance. Although rarely, you can't just completely drop your presence. As much as you want to Gojo forbids you from doing so. Not because he likes being strict with you but because he hates getting an earful from the Higher-ups. You have curses to fight, people to save, and your level as a First-Grade Sorceress is what circles you back to that hell hole. They need you.

But it's depressing, you will say. I mean, how could it not be when all that you're doing is fighting deformed curses with haunting moans and shrilling screams as you exorcise them one by one while getting soaked in blood? That doesn't even sound good written on paper.

You deal with it, though. What can you do? Not much. All you can do is complete (some of) your missions and spend time with friends as an outlet.

That is until you heard about the new student or vessel–Itadori Yuji.

'Fascination' is an understatement when you hear about the new freshmen walking straight through the doors of Jujutsu University. Oh, you're familiar with the story: A simpleton, an ancient demon's finger, a snack? Call it the 'fool of the century'.

Of course, you went back to see the boy, are you kidding? He's the talk of the town. This is the most engaged you've ever been since your first year here.

Upon first glance, you already had him in your grasp; his cheeks were warm with your palms as you squished the pliable fat and your eyes were big when laying on his doe-like ones.

"No fucking way," You whisper incredulously. "You're actually the dude who ate Sukuna's finger. And alive too! Are you insane or are you insane?" A laugh of disbelief leaves you and all the poor vessel can do is blush in obvious embarrassment. He guesses he's the former and the latter.

You're a bold one. Everyone can agree with that. Even the fresh blood who just arrived at the school can say that. To confirm that the rumors were true you gaze deeply into Yuji's eyes as if to see Sukuna sitting lavishly on his throne through his host's pupils, attempting to find the curse yourself.

"So where is the guy? Is he hiding or something? I don't see 'em-" Sukuna is...intrigued, to say the least. Does this broad have no shame? Don't you know what he is–know what he's done? You speak of him as if he's an animal from a childhood fable. Though your brain has gone to mush you still had a confidence that these weak humans lack (save from Gojo). You're daring, he'd give you that.

Before Yuji can remove your hands from his sore cheeks, it appears Sukuna already beat him to it by materializing a mouth at the side of his face and biting your thumb with tough fangs. You yelp with a 'shit!' in the midst of it. Now your thumb is bruised with a subtle teeth mark, faintly traced with blood (and nearly ruining your freshly coated polish).

But your worrisome state would be put aside when hearing a discomforting squelch come Yuji's way as a crimson eye emerges from the cut on his cheek. It adjusts to the lighting of the environment, glaring at everybody in the room before stopping on you–your dumbfounded face.

"How dare you speak of me so lowly like I'm one of you pathetic humans? Would you like for me to be the first one to behead you once I'm in control of this body?" His voice boomed at you and you know you would've pissed yourself if the infamous curse didn't look like a cyclops on some twenty-year-old's face.

Not wanting to start too much trouble, you repelled your snarky comment. Putting your left leg behind you, you slightly bend your right knee and clasp your hands over the fabric of your imaginary gown to give a gentle bow–since you are but a lowly peasant.

"Apologies, your Highness. May my body and mind rot for speaking so poorly of you. I hope you find it within your heart to forgive me of my ignorance and free me from my unbearable idiocracy!"

Ok, maybe that was a bit snarky.

The faces of the people in the room were written with 'shock' on them, and so was Sukuna's in his own domain.

From there, things escalate. Sukuna's infatuation for your character starts to increase whenever you're around, and whenever you're not. Your bold stupidity, your witty remarks, your unfazed nature–it was all starting to grow on him like mold on bathroom tiles. On top of that, his corruption starts to show whenever he dwells on how much of an attractive woman you are.

You have a bangable body with plump breasts and a bouncy ass–a trait he's not accustomed to from this society but isn't against. Your curves are in the right places and you take good care of yourself. Maintaining the warm fragrance of vanilla to seep out your pores whenever you embrace Yuji. He can't help but taste you when you do and he'll never forget the cute squeal you released from glossy lips upon feeling his wet tongue glide vertically on your neck.

"(Name)?! What's wrong?"

"Ugh, Sukuna, you pervert!" A mischievous sneer forms on miniature lips as the aforementioned demon glares knowingly at you.

"Have this brat lend me control over this body and I'll show you more than just a lick to the neck, doll." You upgraded from 'broad' to 'doll' in just a matter of weeks. It was a rapid transition (not that you're complaining, at least you're on his good side). You feel like it was last week when he threatened your life by saying he'd rip your limbs from your body and gorge on your flesh before using your bones as toothpicks (maybe because it was last week).

You plague his mind. In a way one would say to their lover in those sappy romance stories people read. Some people would call what Sukuna feels as such.

But Sukuna doesn't love you. That isn't his forte. He desires you–craves you, as well as any unhealthy forms of want:

Wants to have your tongue follow the path of the inky marks on his skin before kissing him deeply, wants to feel the burning heat flow from you as he latches a hand on swollen breasts, wants to hear those moans riddled with lust once he impales you with one of his throbbing members-

His mind swirls with infinite scenarios but for now, he will wait. Wait until the brat gives him power. And once he does, he'll know the first person he'll go looking for.

[radio-writes]

It's about time for your blood to spill + you should sleep + we were soulmates

(Congrats on the 300 followers btw!)

Now, The Echoes Interlace

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Blood, physical injuries to reader, ambiguous major character death(s), angst

Tags: Alastor x reader, gn reader, relationship can be read in any way

MDNI

"You always have looked so pretty in red, Al." You hummed as your combed your fingers through his soft hair. You pressed your fingers against his scalp, lightly massaging against his antlers.

The light static that varied in volume crackled. "Fuck you." Alastor managed to say as his head laid on your lap.

His smile was strained—present, of course, as it always was, but strained. The trail of blood from his mouth dripped from his chin, joining the warm pool under both your bodies.

"Rude." You scolded him. Your breath coming out in a hiss as Alastor dug his claws into an open wound on your leg. 

"Must you continue to hurt me? You're already dying." You glared down at him as you would at a misbehaving pet.

You leaned forward, easily removing his hand from your body without much of a struggle. He only had so much strength left after all. 

"Fuck you." Alastor repeated, static morphing his voice this time around.

"Yes, well, I get that you're mad, Al." You continued your casual tone. "But it was about time for your blood to spill, don't you think?"

You grunted as you leaned your back against the cold wall again, sighing as the tension on the wound across your stomach was lessened.

"F—"

"Fuck me, yes yes." You cut him off. "Save your strength or you'll die out faster."

Alastor didn't mean to listen to you, but he just felt far too tired to argue otherwise.

Your hand returned to his head, damp with sweat and blood, and yet somehow still so adorably fluffy. Leave it to this guy to still look so presentable even when dying a second time around.

Your fingers scratched at one of his tufts of hair, causing it to give a slight, involuntary twitch.

"So they are ears." Your voice was soft. "I always assumed but was never really sure, you know?"

Alastor didn't respond. His red eyes continued to glare at you.

He adjusted his hands to lay over his chest. A weak attempt to slow his loss of blood. He didn't even have enough energy to press on it anymore.

"Hey, Al." You wheezed, breath slightly knocked from you. You had adjusted the way you sat so the demon could lay more comfortably on your lap. "Do you remember how we first met?"

"You told me that cheesy pick up line. How'd it go again?" Your hand paused as you tried to remember. 

A rather dashing demon slid up to you at the bar; charming, sharp smile, on full display. You've seen all sorts of sinners by now, but none so happy while rotting in hell.

You expected him to sell you drugs, or quite bluntly tell you to sleep with him. What you got instead was a very corny: 

"You must be buried treasure, because I am absolutely digging you." You let out a tired laugh, hand continuing to pet Alastor once more.

The sound of static crackling again was the only response you got. You think it meant fuck you. 

"Well you must be treasure as well, Al. Because it seems I'll be burying you tonight." You met Alastor's harsh glare with a soft smile.

"What? That absolutely was funny, you can't deny it." You defended yourself.

Alastor didn't think him dying was funny at all, actually, but he didn't exactly have any energy left to say that.

His smile was a tight, close lipped one, but you see his lips try to curl just a tiny bit in what you assumed would have been a snarl. 

"You always thought I was hilarious." Your own hand moving over the gash on your neck as if it was a mild inconvenience. You titled your head as you looked down at the demon on your lap. "What changed?"

Alastor merely glared at you.

Your eyes traveled down his body, staying on the deep wound oozing across his chest.

"That's not fair, Al." You laughed tiredly, eyes staying on his bloodied torso. "I always thought you were incredibly handsome—sinfully so really. But your attempts at killing me never changed that."

"Fuck you." The static over his voice was gone now. His tone was as spiteful, angry, and condescending as always, but much, much weaker.

Your eyes drifted back to his face. His smile was still present, but his lovely red eyes seemed more unfocused than they were a second ago.

Your hand in his hair stopped their movements. For a moment, the world was still as you wondered if your company had already left.

But it was merely for a heart beat, as a ragged breath from his lips snapped time back into motion.

You pealed your fingers from his hair, bringing them down to softly rub your knuckles down his cheek. He doesn't so much as flinch, but, you knew he would have had he been able to.

"Hey, old pal." You cooed softly. "You should sleep, you look so very tired."

His fingers on his chest twitched once, but you didn't get much of a reply anymore after that.

You sighed heavily. Your hands rested on his face as you leaned your head against the wall behind you, face craned upwards to the red sky that covered all of Hell.

Your own eyes closed, realizing just how tired and weary you yourself were.

Still, you were never one to be silent around a friend—or foe. It had always been unclear to you when it came to Alastor.

"We were soulmates, wouldn't you say so, Al?" You continued softly. "But in a funnier way, I think, where we were always meant to destroy the other."

Alastor's skin felt as it always did beneath your fingers. The stench of blood heavy as it always was around him. You felt his familiar eerie presence by you, as you always did.

And yet, you were unsure if he actually was still there. You were quite conflicted about how you were supposed to feel about that, truth be told.

"Fuck you, old friend." You sighed, eyes remaining closed, smile tiredly stretching across your own lips.

[ctinalk]

Is Crowley already the new Supreme Archangel?

A few oversights made millennia ago, and suddenly we have a demon archangel on our hands.

Caution: I came up with and wrote this in the last few hours so potentially crackpot theory ahead. Apologies if this has been proposed before, it’s not one I’ve seen. And I’ve seen A LOT.

So supposedly the miracle Aziraphale and Crowley performed together was something only the mightiest of archangels could have done. Everyone assumes it was Crowley because they think he was a high ranking Angel formerly. Or that it was the two of them together. Or that Jimbriel amplified it. But what if…

“There is always a supreme archangel”

Michael says this in S2E1 when talking with Uriel about who is in charge now that Gabriel was missing. Gabriel was removed from office in the trial we hear, he’s no longer Supreme Archangel. If so, Michael’s statement would imply that as soon as Gabriel’s removal happened, a new archangel already existed. Now obviously the Metatron is making a show of choosing Aziraphale as the new Supreme Archangel. But is that within his power to do so? Or is he suggesting working with Crowley for a different reason, possibly unknown even to him?

“I am the only first-order archangel in the room, or you know, the universe”

During the “2nd Armageddon-that-wasn’t” discussion, Gabriel says these words. As he says them, it cuts (ominously isn’t the right word here, pointedly maybe?) to Crowley leaning against the desk, and lingers there just a bit too long.

“How do you know it wasn’t me?”

Another clue to the powerful angel Crowley was. It was clearly said in a teasing manner throw Shax off. But much like the barrel of red herring in the intro, is it a red herring to something else?

“Can you send lightning bolts and get them to report back to you?”

The only other time we see someone calling lightning or using it is, you guessed it: Gabriel in S1 on the airbase to port in and out. I’ve read the theory that Angel!Crowley was the lord of lightning, which I’m not opposed to, but to me this is another link.

“Never change their passwords”

We have one HUGE instance of Heaven being sloppy in their record keeping (passwords), and lax in their security protocol (Crowley bopping about with Muriel). Whereas Hell is meticulous in their record keeping, as shown by the bills, admissions process, and S1 contract.

So what if: when Gabriel was stripped of the title, a new Supreme Archangel was automatically appointed. Except instead of someone else, because heaven neglected to double-check their logs after The Fall, Crowley was still on the books as next in line? This would absolutely play into “God playing games with the universe” and “just think what would have happened if we’d been at all competent” themes running through both seasons. It would also follow the theory that people noticed Aziraphale and Crowley were on the “wrong” side for much of the season. It would also explain a few continuity errors along the way (how did Crowley know Muriel’s rank? He knows it through the knowledge automatically given to the Supreme Archangel).

“Funny ol’ world, isn’t it?”

Caveats and potential weaknesses:

I have no idea how this fits into the fact that S3 will be the actual continuation the Neil and Terry planned, as to my knowledge S2 was essentially a “Neil’s chaotic angsty ineffable husbands fanfic”. But clearly S2 has to play well into the plan for S3. I also kind of hate my theory because Crowley specifically declined to be an angel again, and his hand has been forced too often already.

Now I am a staunch advocate of the body-swap theory, and I’m not sure how this would play into that. Does Metatron know? Does he think he has the power to appoint? Does he think the title went to Aziraphale because of the miracle? Does he try to get Crowley to come back with Aziraphale to exploit his power? Does he know about the body swap in S1 and if so, was he trying to trigger another one to get the right “soul” to heaven?

There are a few other things I haven’t figured out how to incorporate into this post yet. I’ll try to put them into coherent thoughts in the next few days, but thought I’d throw this to the wolves universe for the time being.

Thought 1: “How have your lot managed to stay in charge all this time?” “I’m not so sure we have.”

Thought 2: I need to do (another) rewatch before I nail this one down (such a sacrifice I tell you), but does Crowley have a visceral reaction like he does in S1 to being called “good” in the current, post Gabriel-removal timeset? Obv in Edinburgh/Job, but that’s in the past. He denies it, sure (with Jim), but he straight up flashes a smile and thanks Mrs. Sandwich when she says “You’re a good lad” (after the denial).

2.1: No one calls him “good” in present day except these two instances. Vast difference in the visceral reactions of season 1 and flashbacks.

Thought 3: Crowley is the only one who can trigger Jimbriel’s recall memory.

[bitterrobin]

Imagine this:

You are hated.

You are ten years old and you are hated. Your father existed in your life for only a day, and he doesn’t like you. He can’t understand you. The anger in his voice echoes. You are to obey him. A teenager you just met scoffs at your presence. You feel he looks down on you. You need to prove them wrong.

You try.

They hate you.

Your grandfather sees you as a tool. He loves you, but you are also just a connection to your parents. His expectations weigh heavy. Your mother loves you. But you know this isn’t the life she wanted. The life she deserves. She loves you, but to stay by your side is a shackle.

You see the teenager again. He assumes the worst immediately. You cannot be trusted. You meet a man who calls that teen his brother. He does not like you. He may not say anything, but you can feel the bewilderment, the annoyance. You are a side character, an obstacle to work around.

Still. Still. You want to try again. Your father is here. He is a fighter. You can fight too. You can be better, even. But he leaves you behind. He already has sons who can be better. Your mother tried to warn you.

So you go to your father’s city. America. Gotham. It is familiar in its oppression and yet alien in its hostility, its rules.

You have cut ties with your grandfather. Abandoned your mother. You can’t be alone.

You discover your father is dead. The connection can’t be made. You have lost your family. The brotherly man is there again. He takes you in. But nothing is easy.

Nothing can ever be easy. No one can be kind to you. They never have. You can’t be weak. They will rip you apart. So you persevere. You have to hurt them before they hurt you. Abandon them before they abandon you. Deride them, see their flaws, before they see yours. You cannot be anything less than perfect.

Fighting back makes things worse. You are a monster.

They call you demon. Feral. A spoiled brat. You cannot be a son. You cannot be a child.

They have the privilege of having your father, and they deny your place. You are fighting for yourself. You must survive on your own.

The man gives you a name. It is an honor, but you can’t help but feel it is also a collar.

You are a bird of prey, yet they scorn you for exacting your purpose. What is an eagle if not a predator? You were born to hunt. You were born to maim.

But you are a Robin now. A songbird. You try to fit the mold. You clip your wings, dull your talons. You learn to sing, not scream.

It’s fine. You are fine here. You hold a name that must be cherished. A name that demands more expectations.

It’s fine. You are used to this. Your name was once “tamer.” Now you hold many more names. They watch you. They evaluate you.

You can be hurt, you are strong. You can be shot, you are strong. You can be killed, many ways, but you are strong. They will appreciate you this way. They will praise you. One day. They will love you one day.

You will no longer be hated until you are more than perfect. One day, they will see you as you.

[scenteddelusion5]

hiii

Can you do Velvette x insecure reader? (any gender(s))

I Don't Deserve You

Velvette x insecure reader

Note: A short but wholesome one!!!

Word count: 647

Velvette had met Y/n around three years ago. The sinner hadn't been in hell for long when she stumbled upon them. They weren't the prettiest nor the strongest demon, actually they were pretty weak but something pulled Velvette to them. One thing led to another and they started dating.

To say her colleagues hated their new-found love was an understatement, Vox and Val hated her new partner. Velvette would dote on them, buy them new clothes and show them of on all her socials. According to Vox letting the public know about her relationship with a weak sinner would be bad for their image. One time he had even tried to hypnotise them to break up but his plan fell through.

Val on the other hand didn't like their looks and though that Velvette could do WAY better and he took every opportunity to let her know. Once he even brought in one of his contracts that was the same type of sinner, they, however, were smoking hot. Velvette actually dared to slap the Vee in the face for that one.

She always reassured her partner that they were perfect. Still, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that they didn’t belong by her side.

On one hellish afternoon, Y/n laid on their shared bed and scrolled through their girlfriend's sinstagram. It showed a picture of the two of them in matching beachwear. Velvette stood by the parasol on the right while Y/n stood hunched over, looking through the cool box. The caption read: 'Two bitches at the beach, look out suckers! This ass is mine!'

They laughed looking back at their fun date. Scrolling down through the comments, they saw the usual replies:

Valentino_PIMP: We use the same swimwear line in the NEW angel dust porno, sluts!!

VoxTech_OFFICIAL: Line available on our online shop! Buy today, delivered tomorrow!!

Tiffany-PORNS: HOT!!! Ordering RIGHT NOW!!!❤️❤️❤️~

All of famous denizens, friends and colleagues. The usual but when they scrolled down, they came across these;

DoomBoom-482: Velvette hot as ever. Dont undorstand why shes whith that ugly.

Angel_FUCKER69: EEWWW!!! I didn’t want to see that 🤢

BAZUKAbAbY: we should just kill that bastard, they dont deserve our queen

Comment after comment, hating them. Tears filled their eyes as they read more and more.

Velvette walked into her apartment already angry, she couldn’t wait to complain to her partner about her shitty ass day. Valentino had ripped apart one of her best models on this busy fucking day.

She saw Y/n laying on the bed as she spoke, "you'll never guess what Valentino did today. Like I could just KILL him for thi-" She quickly cut herself off as she saw their puffy eyes stare at her. "What happened?"

"I-uhm..."

She jumped on the bed and laid down next to them. "What are you looking at? Show me." Velvette looked at the post, reading through all the comments. "You don't actually believe their bs?"

"Y-yes," they sniffed, "I don't deserve you... You are amazing, beautiful, smart, witty and I'm... Me."

"And you are THE BEST THING that EVER happened to me! There is no demon in hell that could make me laugh like you do! No one that can lift me up pike you do! No one who can make pancakes like you do!" She hugged them. "Everyone else are just shitstains!!! Without you, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy hell as much as I do now."

"Really?"

"Really, besides do you really think those basement dwelling, internet trolls would understand someone as fabulous as you and me?" Velvette kissed the top of their head.

"No."

"Then there is nothing to worry about. I love you and you love me. That's all that matters." She picked up her phone and looked through her liked pics. "Now I saw this really cute trend where couples choose each other's fits, wanna try?"

"Let's do it!!!"

Masterlist/request guidelines

[envysparkler]

Dick had fucked up.  Dick had fucked up big time.

“Robin?” Dick tried, creeping through the gloom of the abandoned warehouse.  Machinery loomed out of the darkness like dusty jumpscares and there was a chilling, crawling feeling up the back of his neck.  “Robin, are you there?”

No sound.  Not even a whisper.  Demons were always very good at blending into the shadows.

“Robin, come back,” Dick called out into the darkness.

The crippling sensation of abandonment was his only answer.

Really, this whole thing was Bruce’s fault.  Not only had he replaced Dick, he’d replaced him with a demon.  A baby incubus that Dick was supposed to call brother.  Dick was justifiably wary of humanity’s greatest predators, never mind that his little brother had chubby little cheeks and an adorable scowl and a pout that Dick had to resist cooing at.  He was dangerous.

And doubly so under the influence of mind tampering chemicals.

Incubi under fear toxin could induce a heart attack with a touch, overloading people’s minds with fear until they died.  Dick had never met an incubus under the use of cuddle pollen, since Ivy mainly reserved that for the Bats, but he shuddered to think of what an emotion-sensitive demon would do when faced with the draining hunger for succor.

Luckily, Dick had met enough villains with mental manipulation to develop strong mental shields.  They’d snapped into place the moment he’d felt Robin’s clumsy grab for his mind, protecting him from mental intrusion.  He could’ve gotten Robin back to the Batcave and in a containment cell with no one—especially Bruce—the wiser.

Instead, Robin had bolted the moment Dick had cut him free of Ivy’s vines and Dick had no idea how to find him.  It was becoming increasingly likely that he’d have to call Bruce from his shift on the Watchtower and deal with the Disappointed Look that still made Dick cringe.

He could already hear Bruce now.  I asked you to watch over Gotham for one night, but I see that was beyond your capabilities.  The sneer was clearly visible in Dick’s mind.  I should’ve never called you back—you’re useless, pathetic, weak—

Dick froze.  “Robin?” he called out, barely a whisper.  The dread and terror hanging over his head weren’t his own.  The fear of being kicked out wasn’t his.  “Robin, are you there?”

The feeling of dread intensified.  Lurking behind it was hurt, a miasma that seemed to grow with every breath.  Pain and fear and abandonment and loneliness, all of it battling together in a spiral that tightened around Dick’s chest and sunk deep.

“Robin?” Dick called out again.  It was an old-fashioned game of hot-and-cold.  The thicker the emotions were, the closer he was getting.  Dick kept the mental block and slipped further into the warehouse.

The darkness seemed especially concentrated in the shadows behind an old conveyor belt.  Dick rounded the edge and headed for the corners, feeling the ache as the emotions pressed against his barrier.

He caught sight of the cape as the emotions solidified into specifics.

hates me hates me can’t stand the sight of me no one can they all hate me

I don’t want to be a demon I don’t want to be alone I just want to be loved why is it so hard why why

please please please please please please please it hurts please it hurts make it stop please please it hurts make it stop I can’t breathe please please please

I’m so hungry

it’s so cold

please help help please it hurts please please please please

“Oh, kid,” Dick breathed, crouching as he crept closer.  Robin was huddled into a tiny ball, cape tucked around him, shuddering violently.  “It’s okay.  It’s going to be okay.  C’mere.”

Robin didn’t move, but he didn’t jerk away at Dick’s careful touch at his shoulder, and Dick moved to envelop him in a hug.  He used slow, cautious movements and only relaxed when the kid was tucked up in his lap.

Robin was still rigid, not bending the slightest amount, breaths harsh and shaky.  Before Dick could figure out a more comfortable position for them both, something poked at his mental barrier.

Dick mentally reared back, reinforcing the block.  But it wasn’t an attack, it was…questing?  It slunk forward again, a wary little thread reaching out.  For an instant, Dick felt hurt please help big brother please?

Then the thread curled away, sagging at a lack of response, and the feeling of abandonment surged.

It was a stupid idea.  Dick was just compounding the bad decisions that had led them to this point.  He could already imagine Bruce’s lecture—did you seriously allow a demon access to your mind because you felt sorry for it—but he’d already made the decision.

Dick dropped the mental barrier.

It felt like cracking open a door he was trying to hold shut, warring with his own instincts as he deliberately lowered his guard.  The thread came back and, upon finding an open path, slithered inside.  Dick resisted the urge to kick it back out.

Dickie? came an inquisitive thought—it didn’t feel like a word mentally spoken, it felt like an impression, and when Dick reached out it, it was accompanied by a dazzling network of memories and emotions.  He was looking at himself from the outside, from the point of view of a little boy that wanted nothing more than his approval, that had placed Dick on a pedestal so high Dick was getting dizzy just experiencing it.

Jaybird, Dick tried crafting his own impression in response, shoving the resentment and irritation as far down as he could in the hopes that Jason couldn’t find it.  He bundled up all his hopes and wishes for a baby brother and flung it across the mental space.

One moment Jason was on the outside, peering in, asking for entry—and the next he was in, tangled up thoroughly with Dick’s emotions, rifling through his head like it was a flipbook.  Confusion and panic and fear flitted across Dick’s mind, slow like molasses, and were easily batted aside.  Comfort rose out of the tangle, and contentment, the lazy purr of a cat slumbering in a sunspot.

It felt good. Dick was…Dick was supposed to be doing something.  They were in a warehouse.  They…they had to get home?  But the warehouse was empty and everything was quiet here.

[ryanwinsatlife]

Demon Twins AU Idea

(Got a little carried away, but here you go! Short version: while Damian learns from their father, Danyal is investigating the Fentons. They try to do a vivisection on Dami, and Danny is NOT having it. He goes a lil berserk)

When Damian al Ghoul is sent to learn from the Bat, Danyal is sent on a long-term undercover mission.

Two scientists, Doctors Jack and Madeline Fenton, had discovered a new type of Lazarus Water. Danyal was to be adopted and report back on the differences between the Pits and this “Ectoplasm.”

One day, just a year into his mission, Danyal is investigating the nonfunctional portal when a large bookshelf covered in various samples topples, forcing him to duck into the portal and, unfortunately, the “on” button.

Danyal al Ghoul, the Shield to the Heir of the Demon, dies.

When ghosts begin to come through the portal, Danyal fights them back with an ecto-scimitar and a quiet determination that the American Government discovers nothing about the paranormal invasions.

When the Fentons find out that Danny is a halfa they don’t rush in, they’ve seen Phantom fight. They bide their time, creating a ghost-specific poison of diluted blood blossoms, slipping it into his food.

Danyal realizes he’s been poisoned too late. (Damian would be disappointed)

When he comes to, he’s strapped to a metal table in flimsy paper clothes. He feels weak, like if he sat up he would pass out.

Jack and Madeline are standing above him.

“Look honeybun! It’s awake!”

“Thank you sweetie! Now,” Madeline says, “while I am impressed that you managed to pretend to be human for so long, you did make a mistake.” She smiled, turning to rip a sheet off of-

Damian.

(His twin, his brother. He looks like he has been dragged to hell and back already, bloodied and barely breathing.)

“You really shouldn’t have based your human form on a celebrity child.” She taps a finger to her chin, thinking, “The real question is who should we start with? The monster or the template?”

“I say start with the boy lovekins. I wanna know what made him easier to mimic than anyone else.”

When Madeline picks up a scalpel, Danyal glares.

When she walks towards Damien, his twin freezes.

When she moves to cut into his twin, all The Shield can see is green.

When it fades, he is clutching his Ahki to his chest in Nanda Parbat.

[whimsyvixen]

✣ 𝕀 𝕊𝕖𝕖 𝕋𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕐𝕠𝕦 ✣

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba Fic

Rating: 18+

Pairing: Gyutaro x Female Reader

Synopsis: The monster that visits you at night wants a different taste this time.

WARNINGS/TAGS: dark smut, explicit sexual content, non-con, extremely dubious consent, non-consensual touching, biting, mild blood, forced pleasure, dacryphilia, vaginal fingering, slut shaming.

Author's Note: This was just supposed to be short drabble, but I got a little carried away. Mind the tags and hope you enjoy!

✣✣✣✣✣

He tore away at the neck of your kimono, intent on exposing your soft flesh to his ravenous gaze. 

You couldn't stop the tears that flowed as he towered over you, your fear of being eaten causing you to shake like a leaf in terror. "I didn't know he was a Hashira, I-!" At the slight brush of his lips on your bare skin, you sobbed in earnest, anticipating excruciating pain in the seconds to come. 

“Please,” you sniffled, “anything but this. T-there must be something I can… oh God, don’t please, p-please, please!” Your voice rose in pitch when he scraped his teeth on your chest, leaving red welts in their wake. 

You felt the sleeve of your dress tugged further down, baring a nipple to the cool air of the room. Despair was all you could feel as you realized he was about to tear your heart right out of your chest and not give you a quick death. You shut your eyes and muttered prayers to the gods, hoping they’ll listen and save you from your fate.

~

Weak pleads for mercy tumbled out from your trembling lips, the pathetic display filling Gyutaro with sick satisfaction.

There was nothing no one (much less any god) could do to stop him from devouring you. He’d only kept you alive these past few days to heighten your fear– terrorizing you in your sleep, threatening to hurt your loved ones should you attempt to escape him, explaining in detail how he’d eat them then you, reminding you that you were nothing but food to him– anticipating how sweet your screams will be once he's fully consumed you. 

You’d be dead already from his poison if not for the vial of liquid he forced down your throat every night. He didn't want you dying on him too quickly. It was fun having a dumb little human to entertain him when he felt the need to play with his food. 

Gyutaro paused at the sight of your bare tit, tilting his head curiously at your heaving mounds of flesh. 

Ignoring your pleas, he parted the dress completely, his eyes drinking you in in all your naked entirety. Possessiveness filled him at seeing his marks all over your body, the once unblemished and pure flesh now riddled with cuts and bruises. 

“What a sight you are,” he breathed, his blood rushing south as he continued to leer at you. “You’re much prettier than the whores I’ve consumed recently.”

Gyutaro brought a hand to your bosom, tracing a line around your areola. His touch had you quivering, the rough pads of his fingers brushing your nipples and causing them to stiffen. "Oh? What's this?" he chuckled right as he pressed down on your buds. He saw you bite your lip, muffling any noise as he continued with his exploration of your chest. "I could be wrong but it looks like you're enjoying this." He groped your chest then, squeezing the pliable flesh with his eager hands. It pulled a lovely little gasp from you, your eyes widening in alarm as you looked at his cruel hands then the twisted grin on his face. 

"These are very nice," he moved his hands under your bust, seeming to test their weight in his palms. "It's almost tempting me to keep you alive. If only to," he bent his head, his breath tickling your chest, "play with you a little longer." 

He opened his mouth, his tongue rolling out to flick against your nipple. It brought forth a squeak from you, Gyutaro not giving you time to think before he engulfed it in his mouth.  He ignored your hands pushing frantically against him, too intent on suckling on the pebbled bud to pay any mind to your protests.

When you pulled on his hair hard enough to annoy him, he opened an eye to glare at you, opening his mouth wider and biting down on the soft tissue in retaliation. It had you screaming in pain, his razor-like teeth breaking the skin and making blood flow into his mouth. 

Gyutaro moaned hotly at the sweet flavor, hollowing his cheeks to suck more of you as his other hand came to fondle your neglected globe. He was immune to your sobs, your blood like ambrosia, making his mind drunk on your taste as his throat muscles swallowed all you had to give. 

Refraining from tearing a chunk out of you, Gyutaro reluctantly pulled away from your tit. It was soaked in his spit and flushed an angry red, the tender skin sure to scar in the coming days. "You stupid woman. Try to upset me again, and I'll make your death a slow and agonizing one." He squeezed his hand around your throat to drive the threat home, twisting your sore nipple between his fingers to make you cry for him. Once you nodded weakly, he removed his hand and diverted his focus to your other breast, paying it the same attention as its twin.

He loved the way your flesh gave under his grip, paying no mind to how hard he was squeezing your tits as he molded them like dough. Content with the hickeys and marks he left there, Gyutaro used his tongue to lick away any residue of blood left from your wounds. "Keep being a good girl and maybe you can convince me your life is worth something." He pushed your breasts together, placing his face between them to nuzzle them with a groan. 

He trailed his nose up to your collarbone, biting gently there before continuing his ascend. When he reached your neck, he nipped and suckled the area, intent on marring you further with his teeth. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed your plush frame against his lithe one, his faux hug doing little to calm your nerves.  

“G-Gyutaro, I…!” you gasped when he sunk his teeth into you, your nails digging into his shoulders as you cried out from the pain. 

~

It hurt and everything ached. 

The bruises on your body stung immensely and brought a fresh wave of tears in your eyes. You could still feel the underlying pain of his teeth on your chest, a trickle of blood cascading down to your stomach and pooling around your navel. Utter revulsion filled you at hearing his audible gulps so close to your ear, his contentment with your blood almost nauseating you.

You couldn’t help but yelp when he removed his teeth, his incisors having dug so deep that it had blood oozing from your neck. You saw him observing his handy work, tracing the inflamed skin with a smile on his face. “You look real nice like this. All bloodied and disfigured. All because of me.” He purposely pressed down on your bruises, laughing when you jerked under him from the pain. “Let’s continue, shall we?”

You looked at him tiredly, just wanting this to end already. If his poison didn’t kill you soon it was his rough handling of you that would. 

It was the caress of his fingers near your pubic hair that startled you to attention. You stared at him wide eyed, ice coursing through your veins as you realized what else he wanted. 

“No…” you whispered, shaking your head as you shut your legs.

“Wrong answer, sweetheart.” He placed his hands on your knees, rubbing on them almost lovingly before forcing them open and exposing your heat to him. 

A scuffle ensued, Gyuatro having to hold you down as you fought against him. You thrashed with all the energy you could muster, scratching at him and trying to pull down the hem of your clothes to cover your modesty.

In the end, your efforts were for naught. Subduing a human was nothing difficult for a demon. You were just exciting him with the little fight you had in you. It wasn't long before you felt your limbs get tired, unable to do anything to stop Gyutaro from placing his hands between your legs.

Soon enough, you made it easy to figure out where he needed to touch you to get the most reactions out of you.

He pumped his fingers harder and faster, his hand moving in a blur between your legs. You made little helpless cries, the continuous plunging of his fingers inside your wet heat wrecking your mind into a hazy stupor. Hearing the indecent squelching of his fingers retracting and burying themselves back inside your tight pussy made your face burn with humiliation. 

Your body trembled in shocked pleasure, your legs flailing in desperation as your orgasm drew near. "Nono-! I can't-" you babbled, shaking your head in refusal as a thin line of saliva escaped the corner of your mouth. 

Digging your nails into his arms did nothing to deter him, instead it led to him curling his fingers in a come-hither motion, using his nails to scrape against your tender walls to find the spongy tissue to stimulate you further. It wasn’t long before he located it, your own body betraying you as your hips moved in tandem with the motion of his hand. 

"You filthy fucking whore," he swore under his breath, feeling your walls spasm erratically around his fingers. "You have to be all kinds of fucked in the head to be enjoying getting your cunt fingered by a demon. You're gripping me so tight, I can barely pull my fingers out." 

He slowly began pulling his hand away, making you look at your wetness streaked across your thighs and his pale hand. The obscene view of your pussy lips clinging on to him had you mortified, unable to formulate any words at such a sight. 

He let you bask in your shame for a few seconds before shoving his fingers back inside. Using the palm of his hand to rub against your clit, he worked your body until he had you screaming for him.

~

The scent of your sweet cunt caused his mouth to salivate, a thin line of drool escaping him before he wiped it away with the back of his hand. His cock was heavy and throbbing, straining in the confines of his pants, wanting to replace the fingers lodged inside your sweet orifice.

Gyutaro wanted to feel those tight, fluttering walls around his girthy mass, clenching on his manhood as he brought you to completion again and again. He could only imagine what other reactions you’d make, forcing you to enjoy your own ruination by him and envisioning your pretty pussy swallowing all he had to give.

Gyutaro just knew you were going to feel amazing wrapped around him. 

✣✣✣✣✣

The NSFW Art ft my OC here -->(⁠｡⁠・⁠/⁠/⁠ε⁠/⁠/⁠・⁠｡⁠)

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Hi! If you're still taking requests I'd love request a drabble about the moment when Konig and Reader first noticed each other and what they thought/felt during that moment based on your "Just Friends" fic.

Btw I love your work and oh my god, it's perfection, absolutely amazing. Super excited to read chapter 3&4 (no rush take your time!!)

Thabj you!!!

Even Demons are Lonely

Wordcount: 3.8 k

Summary: König sees reader for the first time. Soon, the promise to never touch someone as lovely as her turns into a vow to never leave her side.

Tags/warnings: F!Reader, König POV, Just Friends universe. Angst, twisted & fluffy feelings, pining, obsessive behavior, stalking, panty stealing, mentions of past trauma, abuse and patricide, yandere!König falling in love (=being delusional). Mild sexual and violent themes. 

A/N: I did take my time with this one... 🩷 And it's only König POV, but I hope you enjoy! 💋

"Abashed the Devil stood, and felt how awful goodness is, and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely – saw, and pined His loss..."

– John Milton, Paradise Lost

Purgatory.

That's the word that stuck to him when he was learning English at school, simply because it was an accurate definition of how he felt.

Adults used to say there is heaven and hell, and then this world, the world of humans, somewhere in between. They said he would go to heaven after he died and that bad people would go to hell.

They were all liars because hell already existed here on Earth. He had lived there ever since he was born.

The first memories of the cutting are shallow and pale, like they happened to some other boy. With every hit and cut and every cry, the sounds turned muddy until he was mute too, until all he could hear was mother's crying and Papa's roaring. The old man always got more mad when people cried and cowered. 

That's when he knew he would someday do something about bad people, that crying and cowering and begging wasn't going to help. It was the birth hour of hope and heaven. He dreamed of killing his father, killing his "friends", killing everyone who looked at him like he was a freak. 

He soon learned that this was not what people associated with heaven at all. He learned that there was a word for people like him, for phantoms who were morbidly interested in death and decay.

Ghoul.

A grave robber and a corpse feaster he was not, but neither was he going to pretend that some people didn't deserve to be gutted. If being normal meant he should just play along and pretend that there was justice in this world, then he was happy to be morbid. A little ghoul boy who grew up in hell, who dreamed of heaven, who slipped behind the thin veil between the worlds when he was four, who learned how to make the knives dance while everyone around him suffered.

He learned to cry and beg before he learned to speak, but when the words finally started to make sense to him, he had no use for them. No one wanted to talk to him, so he settled to observe. Life was a film reel running by, and words were useless when all he wanted to do was roar. There was a growing, gaping maw inside him, shrieking and spitting blood while he was without a voice.

It took a while to make Papa cry and beg. But he begged, eventually. In his last words, he tried to hide behind a woman’s skirt. 

"Don't do this to your mother," was a plea that didn't ignite mercy: it drove him off the ledge. Looking at the horrible excuse for a man squirming at his feet made him realize he should've released his mother from this demon years ago. He was too weak, and he vowed to himself, to the whole world, that he would never be weak again.

………………

Sometimes, a glimpse of true heaven can be seen on a clear summer's day when the sun shines, when bees are buzzing and a beautiful voice sings a love song on the radio. Beautiful, peaceful things only add to his suffering. They are simply evidence gathered – examples of everything he will never have. 

The air clots inside his mask with a brew of old sweat and acrid gunpowder. It's usually enriched by a hot desert wind or the stench of dust and emissions, a city's rotten core. It would feel odd to be met with a fresh breeze or the smell of rust and smoke than have them dampened by the baggy mask. He's certain that it would only be painful to feel the full brunt of the world on his naked face again. His enemies can't see him when he kills them, so they can't haunt him either.

He is the only ghoul here. He is the one who haunts.

He's learned to let love and peace go. He came here to reap; that's his job. Ghouls cannot love or be loved. They are supposed to get rid of the plague, do what normal people can't do, what good people deem hideous and wrong.

People have always been alien to him: they both know something he cannot seem to decode and are unaware of the constant presence of the Maw. He has to feed it in order to not be swallowed by it himself. It helps with the constant yelling for a while. 

His father was the first demon to be punished, but he has learned that all demons are liars when they beg. They don't know what real hell is like. That's why he didn't give mercy to his father, and that's why he doesn't give mercy to them, either. It's not hell, it's not heaven, so he must be in a limbo state in between. 

That's why he calls this place purgatory. 

………………

He sees a woman under the sun one day.

The sheer sight of her sitting there on her little blanket spread over the grass, dressed in a pure white dress is like a torturing dream from above. It stops him in his tracks like there is suddenly an invisible wall in front of him, forcing him to halt.

His heart is pounding, but that's not new. His heart is always tight and racing, and that's why it's better to have a heavy gun in his hands than hold onto nothing at all; it's better to do something than do nothing at all. The only thing that calms the endless roil inside him is work; when there's no work, it helps to go outdoors, somewhere between the shadows between thick trees.

Trees are better than people...

But they're not better than a woman like her.

He knows his mind plays tricks sometimes with females. That is why at first he thinks that the creature before him is not from this world either. How could someone like her even end up here? There are few ladies in the base, and none of them have picnics; none of them look like angels.

She looks up at the sky, at the single cloud drifting across the cerulean blue that hurts his eyes. Sun shines on her exposed throat, her stare is dreamy as she basks in the warmth and raises an apple to her lips. 

He stops breathing as she takes a bite, fearing it might stain the beautiful white dress from how juicy it is. The runaway apple juice drips down her chin, but she catches it with her finger, then sweeps the sweet taste of it back into her mouth. 

Her lips hug the finger gently as she savors the treat, and his breath returns to him, heavy and with a pang, like someone just punched him between the lungs.

She can't be human... 

He wonders if she's even real. 

He's hungry, but the need to devour this woman turns into a need to worship her before he can even decipher what is happening to him. He would grovel at her feet if that's what it took to get her to feed him some of that fruit. His mind goes numb from the need to march there and hug her. Just hold her, so close that he forgets what it is to breathe.

He knows she would only scream, and it's good he's been walking in the shade. It's good that she can't see him unless she turns her head. Because she must be an angel, and angels have no business with ghouls. 

He should go and leave her be... Mortals he can want, humans he can torture, but a celestial being he could never touch. The wind carries a whiff of apple juice to his nose; it overrides the stench of sweat and gun oil and smoke. 

And then the angel turns her head. 

It's Judgment Day, but she doesn't condemn him. She blinks a few times, lashes fluttering like he's another sun, the dreaded black sun, and she can't bear to look directly at him. But there's no disgust, no uneasiness, there's no fear. There's only shyness and the smallest smile. 

The pain inside his gut turns into a brutal stab, pure suffering. He hasn't hoped for anything for a long, long time. Now hope bleeds into his stomach with golden tingles, like those rays of sun that caress her skin.

He thought good things would feel… well, good, but to his horror, they feel painful too. She's painfully sweet. Even the demon inside him falls silent, the only demon he cannot destroy. It's finally quiet, as it should be. Everything in him bows to this greater power of Her. 

But she can't be real... His mind is sick and has finally conjured up the most beautiful thing he can never, ever have. He's been called a freak, he's been called a dumb ugly giant, he's been called so many things, but he's not stupid enough to think that the creature hugged by the golden aura of light is meant for him. 

So he squares his shoulders and pushes through the invisible wall, back behind the veil, back to where he belongs, and leaves the heavenly apparition in the sun.

………………

The next time he sees her is after a mission and inside the base. 

He brings mud and blood inside after a few rainy days spent in the mountains. He's so soaked that not even the 3-hour flight managed to dry all the dirt. She's waiting for him, or that's how it feels like when she gives him a small, relieved smile and starts to clean the mess he and every other operator leave behind.

His angel is not only a celestial visage but a cleaner.

She keeps the building that houses people who destroy life, clean. She scrubs the filth killers like him bring inside the cold, dead compound built on what used to be a forest full of birds, life, and wind through the trees. 

No one thanks this girl as she humbly dusts a table or mops the floor. No one understands that she's a saint for coming to the purgatory and making it a more decent place for the demons and ghouls to live. And she's relieved every time he comes back unharmed. She's happy to see he's alive. There's someone waiting for him. And not just someone, not just anyone, but an angel.

It's unbelievable how no one has claimed her yet. She has no one to keep her safe, and it makes his hands twitch. If he was her protector, she would never have to work again.

She's not like the rest of them: she doesn't turn her gaze away when he flicks a knife out. She likes to watch him make them dance. It's a ritual that makes him invincible on the battlefield. He used to do it every morning before school to stay safe – there were no angels back then to keep him alive.

He almost stops the first time he sees her watching how he goes through the rite. 

No, look away, little angel... You're not supposed to see this; this is a death dance, it's filthy, demonic magic.

But she's not afraid of his blades or the way he weaves his spell of protection. The girl follows his moves entranced. Her eyes shine, and he nearly drops the blade – he hasn't dropped a knife since he was ten – because there's hunger in her stare. Not as fathomless as his, but deep enough for him to recognize it. 

His angel is lonely and trapped too. 

He completes the dance, returns the knife to his pocket, and looks back, straight back.

She doesn't look away. She doesn't wince or lean back, no: she leans forward, and he can see it, the way her pulse flutters on her neck, the way her mouth opens even more, how a tiny pink tongue sweeps across her lips as she looks back into the jaws of damnation. It takes him a while to realize his angel must be wet, just from seeing how good he is with a knife. The notion doesn't only make his cock jolt; it throws him headfirst into the abyss. 

You'll never get rid of me now, the demon growls before he can choke him silent.

Her wet eyes, her wet, promising lips belong in a realm of madness. She's not filthy; his angel could never be filthy. But she's seducing him, which means she might seduce other men too. 

Has someone claimed her already…? 

What if she has a lover? Do they make her legs shake, do they make her mew?

Who does he have to kill?

………………

He breaks into her room that night. 

He only meant to stand watch and see if someone creeps to her in the cover of darkness. He thinks about different ways to kill her lover as he waits near her door. Should he just strangle them when they enter her room? Make her an offering, let her know she could have a far more powerful male if she wants?

No, he must use a knife... She will get wet if he uses a knife.

But no one appears: he is the only shadow in the dark hall, and after midnight, he decides to take a look at his innocent, sleeping angel. Just one look.

Her domain is full of softness, and he has to take a few deep breaths before he continues. Her world is so different from his that he nearly turns back and closes the door to paradise. But then her breathing calls to him, causing him to take a few steps. She sleeps with her window open, likes to listen to the sound of night birds before she falls asleep – just like he does…

The demon is awake in an instant and grabs him by the throat. 

No. 

Don’t look. If you look, she will steal your soul.

He freezes before he reaches her bed. His gaze sweeps her room instead, and the demon pants at the sight. Her dresses are laid out on a clothing rack: they salute him like a row of colorful flowers. Flowing and singing like a river, they hit him with a breeze made of life and all things good. 

She has a little armchair filled with cushions, and there's more softness and beauty everywhere he looks; he can see it even in the darkness of the night. Her delicate perfume that follows him as he follows her around the base lingers in the air and mixes with the distant birdsong and moonlight that shift the curtains in her room.

There's art on her walls, lively houseplants on the window sill, she has collected a cavalcade of cute little things on top of her drawer: nail polish and sea shells and beeswax candles and a piece of driftwood, a bottle of that perfume she uses, decorative lights above it all, placed around a small mirror. 

He wants all of that. 

He wants light and living things and greenery – he never had plants at home – he wants softness and cute little items, he wants to listen if the seashell still roars with the crashing waves were he to bring it to his ear. His mama always told him seashells remember the ocean because it used to be their home…

He wants her to light a honeyed candle and give him a bite of that apple, catch the juice as it runs down his scarred chin, or better yet, kiss it away before it falls. He wants to taste what's between her thighs. She must taste like honey and heaven.

One of the drawers is open, and from it, a torrent of cute little underthings is spilling out; they almost cascade on the floor. In different colors, too, and his hand reaches out and takes one before he can even think. He steals it like it's candy, then turns around with a stiff back and shoulders heavy from the sin he just committed.

He's about to go to the door, but her soft breathing calls him back. He tries to calm the demon - the girl can't steal anything: there's nothing left to steal. He has no soul, so he doesn't have to fear her either. 

Taking a few steps, he takes the peek he shouldn't take because it will only prolong his sentence in purgatory. Little does the demon know that he would suffer eternally for one little glimpse… 

She's not cocooned inside her blanket as he thought she would be. He thought he would find her coiled into a fetal position, curled into safety, but instead, she's sleeping on her back, arms spread next to her face, looking like she just fell from heaven and is feeling a little dizzy from the fall. She's calm and innocent as the moonlight brushes her cheek, her face free from all worry.

Why is she so cute, why is she so sweet? 

She has no right. She should be up in heaven.

He almost crawls on top of her right then and there, because blinding want is nothing compared to this. He wants to breathe her, breathe with her, hold her gently, and have her smile at him when she wakes up. He doesn't want to ruin her… He just wants a taste, see if an angel would like to have a demon worship her. If his worship would mean anything, if it had any power to persuade her to like him... 

He would never kneel before anyone, but he would kneel before her. In spirit, he is on his knees, and the only thing that makes him suffer is the fear that she might not want him, a ruined temple haunted by old, hateful spirits.

The madness was right. Apparently, there was a soul to steal, a tiny broken mosaic piece left, for the angel has it now. She owns what's left of him, the haunted temple is hers if she would ever want to come visit. He would restrain all those monsters so that she can walk freely and explore all the things buried under the rubble.

Her underwear burns his palm like a flower on fire. He only then realizes that there are no actual flowers in her room. He wonders if she would give him a kiss if he were to bring her one. Or two. Or an entire bouquet…

The demon inside cuts him with a searing blade – stupid idiot – she doesn't want to kiss your mauled face or love your ghouls. There's no treasure hidden inside that filthy rubble, there's only shit and blood and festering vomit. Better to just take her right now, see how tight she is, how wide her eyes go when a proper man comes to assert his will and authority. The demon tells him to at least ruin that cute thing in his hand and throw it on the table. Imagine her shocked little face when she wakes up…

Tears brim, and the maw of hell laughs with a roar of raging fire. He forces both down with a swallow and a wrench that shuts his heart.

There's no way she would ever let a man like him inside her. He's a sickness; no, he's an entire plague. He could try to make love to her, and she would only cry and bleed to death.

The smooth place between her brows gains a wrinkle as if she can hear his thoughts but doesn't agree with them. A little whimper escapes her nose, her head nods on the pillow; it looks like an attempt to hide while you're tied and cannot move. 

Pretty angel is having a nightmare, and it's no wonder. Of course she can sense she's being visited by a monster. 

He turns to leave, and notices another colorful thing on the floor: her underwear, and not clean. She's slipped out of it before bed: his angel is naked under that blanket. His angel sleeps naked…

He wonders if she has touched herself before sleep. Not with feverish, stern hands, like he does, but softly, under that blanket, with her features melting into pleasure as she comes with sighs and a series of desperate little whimpers. 

His blood turns to hellfire as he drops the underwear he's holding. It falls right next to the intoxicating thing he picks up instead. Taking a deep inhale, he can finally smell her. Not just her perfume, but her. She smells of an angel and a woman, raw, perfect woman, and he knows he's lost. This is worse than any dream or demon; this is worse than anything ever before. There's no going back now. 

Her scent calls to him, those hands frame her face in a gesture of surrender. She smiled at him on that day under the sun, and she smiled at him today.

What if he's spent enough time in hell? What if it's possible to have a taste of heaven?

He can't help but wonder if his angel wants this too... 

“Engel,” he whispers into the night.

It takes only a second before she whimpers again. It's an answer, it's a yes, and his heart is full of tiny needles; they pinch him with terrible love and hope. The wrinkle has smoothed out, and his angel is smiling very, very softly. 

She's calling for him. How could he refuse?

His angel is full of light as he makes his decision. He whispers his apology, only in his mind and only in German, trusting that angels must know every language in the world. He asks for her forgiveness for all the things he's about to do to her. Then he promises he will come for her, that she doesn't need to worry: she has a guardian now and always will. She will be forever safe with him by her side. He will drive even her nightmares away.

Then he returns to his room so different from hers, returns to the realm of death and worships the thing he just stole, spraying it with hot, white love - the only thing inside him that can be called pure, the color of angels. It's only a matter of time before he gets to worship her in the flesh, unite with her, the soul who forgave his sins and slipped him the key to heaven.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Betrayal

Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Author’s note: this hyperfixation is reaching ridiculous proportions, but hey I’m not complaining, enjoy another fic!

Synopsis: set during the end of season 4, Sam’s desperation for demon blood is making him do things he wouldn’t normally do

Warnings: Sam being an absolute jerk (with a bit of redemption) reader is slightly injured, Sam hurts the reader, this one’s a bit dark.

It had been three days. Three days of Sam stuck in that demon-proof room, screaming like every demon in hell and on earth was in there with him.

Dean wouldn’t let you go down to see him, but that didn’t keep you from hearing the screams from upstairs. You were tired, and scared. You just wanted to let Sam out, but you understood why he had to stay there.

Despite this, you couldn’t sleep. Every second Sam was screaming, it was torture for you, but somehow the silence was even worse.

Dean was keeping you close these days, maybe in his mind it was to make up for how he hadn’t watched Sam close enough. So there you were, on Bobby’s couch, in Dean’s arms, when Sam escaped, and you saw him creeping around outside the window.

You didn’t know why you didn’t wake Dean, for some reason the thought just didn’t cross your mind. You saw Sam, and your only instinct was to run to him.

That was a mistake.

You decided to go around the far side of Bobby’s yard so that Sam wouldn’t see you coming, which is why when you got to him, you saw that Bobby had beaten you to him. You watched as Sam knocked him out with his own gun, and you knew that you couldn’t get through to him, not yet anyways. So you did the only thing you could think of.

You snuck into Sam’s trunk, and let him drive away with you.

…

You waited for Sam to get into the hotel before getting out of the trunk. You were just about to walk into the lobby when it happened. Black smoke flitted in front of your eyes before forcing itself down your throat. You nearly gagged on it, before you felt another mind enter yours. A more dominant one. It took control of your body, forcing you up the stairs and to Sam’s room. You could only watch as it knocked on Sam’s door, and you saw Sam’s look of surprise when he opened it. The demon walked you into Sam’s room, and it didn’t hesitate. It jumped at him instantly, taking your knife from your belt and going for Sam’s throat. Sam dodged, and tried to use his powers to get the demon out of you, but to no avail; he was too weak.

He changed his tactic, and instead of trying to exorcise the demon, he used his power to fling you into the wall. You felt your body jolt, and then you heard a horrible crunch, before everything went dark.

…

You awoke tied to a chair, a demon’s trap drawn under you. Sam was sitting in front of you, his eyes trained on your face.

“Well hello, Sammy,” the demon said.

“Exor-“ Sam didn’t even get the first word out before the demon cut him off with a laugh.

“Oh, you don’t wanna do that. At least not yet.”

Sam glared at you.

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I have something you want. Something you need.”

Sam scoffed, “Oh yeah, like what?”

You felt the corners of your mouth tilt up in an awful grin.

“Blood.”

Sam swallowed hard, and you could see in his eyes that he had already thought about this.

“C’mon Sammy, you know you need it. Ruby isn’t coming, she hasn’t answered your calls in weeks. You need my blood.”

Sam licked his lips before glancing away.

“I know how much you’re hurting. Trust me, I can help you.” The demon twisted your hand, and you noticed a cut on your finger that you must’ve gotten when you were thrown across the room. A drop of your blood dripped to the floor, and Sam visibly flinched.

“Go ahead. Take it.”

Sam moved so quickly that even if you had been in control, you wouldn’t have had time to cry out.

He lunged forwards, grabbing your small hand in both of his, and began sucking the blood out of the small cut on your finger.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds before it became obvious that it wasn’t enough; the cut wasn’t big enough, and the little taste that Sam had gotten had only increased his craving. He reached down to pick up his knife when it happened.

You felt the demon retreat inside you. It didn’t leave, but it relinquished control, allowing you to speak and move.

You struggled against the ropes, and Sam hesitated, sensing the change in you.

“Sammy, Sam stop please!”

He looked up at you.

“Y/N?”

You whimpered, “It’s me, it’s me the demon’s letting me talk, don’t do this please! Please Sammy, you can stop this.”

Sam’s eyes welled up, but he didn’t put down his knife.

“I…the demon is…” Sam was unable to look at your face, too intent on the knife, and what he was trying not to do.

“Sammy it’s me, just get the demon out, exorcise it, please!” You cried as Sam gave up, lifting the knife to your arm.

“I will, I will baby I promise. I just…I need this first.”

Sam grabbed your arm to hold you still, slicing a cut a few inches long into your forearm.

You cried out in pain, but it only got worse as Sam leaned down and began to drink the demon’s blood out of your cut.

You jerked your arm back, trying desperately to escape your big brother’s grasp, but to no avail.

“Sam, Sam stop it! Sam, you’re hurting me!”

Sam wasn’t Sam anymore. Not right now. Now, he was so hooked on demon’s blood that he couldn’t live without it, he needed a fix and he couldn’t stop.

At least that’s what you kept telling yourself as your big brother sucked the blood out of your body through a cut that he had made.

You were just starting to feel dizzy, your vision slightly blurry, when Sam finally pulled away.

As he did, blood dripping down his chin, you could see it. The pure, unadulterated disgust in his face. In that moment, you had no doubt that your brother absolutely hated himself.

That moment only lasted for a second, before Dean swung the vase against Sam’s head, and he collapsed in a heap in front of you.

…

By the time Sam came to, Dean had exorcised the demon out of you, and you were sitting on one of the beds, unable to take your eyes off your unconscious brother.

As Sam stirred, Dean stayed in the back corner of the room, desperate to talk to Sam but sensing that you needed to talk to him first after what happened.

When Sam lifted his head and looked at you, you flinched, making Dean wince.

Sam jumped up immediately, heading right for you. You misunderstood his eagerness, and you scrambled away from him, a whimper escaping your lips.

“It’s-it’s gone Sam…the demon was exorcised, I don’t have the blood anymore, I swear, I swear, please.”

Sam froze. You had backed up all the way to the bed frame, and your whole body was shaking as you held your injured arm against your chest, as if protecting it from him.

“I-I wasn’t-“ Sam reached for you, but flinched back when you cried out and tried to get further away from him.

“It’s not in me, it’s not in me Sammy I promise!”

Sam’s lip was quivering, and he found that he couldn’t even look at you. He dropped his gaze, swallowing hard.

“I’m not gonna hurt you. I swear, baby I’m so sorry,” Sam forced himself to meet your petrified gaze. “I’m so sorry, I won’t hurt you, I won’t.”

You ducked your head, hugging your injured arm even tighter to your chest.

“You already did.”

Sam suddenly felt desperate to explain, even though he should have known it was unexplainable.

“It wasn’t you, I didn’t want to hurt you, I just needed the demon-“

“The demon was in me!” You jerked your head up, and Sam nearly flinched when he saw not anger, but fear in your eyes. “It was in me, and you could’ve gotten it out. You could’ve helped me, but you didn’t. You made it worse.”

Sam stepped forwards, “I’m sorry, I’m so so sorry. Let me help, let me try to-“

You were shaking your head, curling in on yourself and holding your hurt arm in a vice grip.

“Stop, stop it, get away! Go away!”

Dean finally stepped in, grabbing Sam by the shoulder and pulling him back.

“Sam, don’t. She’s scared, and you’re not helping.” Dean brushed past his brother and came to you, gently taking your hurt arm in his hand.

“It’s ok, baby. He won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“He already did,” you sobbed, holding onto Dean’s arms.

Dean reached up and brushed the hair away from your face.

“I know, I know and I’m sorry. I won’t let it happen ever again, I’m right here. He can’t hurt you.”

Can’t. Not won’t. Can’t.

Sam felt his chest constrict, his breathing quicken. Dean wasn’t reassuring you of Sam’s goodness, he was promising protection. Protection from him.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam didn’t bother trying to get close to you again. “Please, let me help. That cut is-“ Sam swallowed past the lump in his throat, “that cut is pretty deep. Let me stitch it up.”

Sam held his breath as he awaited your response. You never let Dean stitch you up, he had as you called it, “butcher hands”. It was always Sam patching you up, always.

“No. Dean,” you whimpered, holding out your arm to the eldest Winchester.

Sam watched as Dean stitched your arm, his instincts screaming at him to comfort you every time your breathing hitched, or you flinched. Every time you did something that alerted both brothers that you were hurting. He fought his instincts though, knowing that he would only scare you, only make things worse.

When night fell, Sam slept on the couch so you and Dean could have the beds. It wasn’t much, but he was trying to do any little thing he could think of to be nicer to you. It was all he could do to keep from running to you and holding you close, apologizing until you promised to forgive him.

He had never felt more like a monster in his life. He had never felt more disgusted with himself.

Sam lay awake long after you and Dean went to sleep. That was why, when you started to call out, he was at your side long before Dean even woke up.

He would’ve stayed away, afraid of scaring you, if it wasn’t for what you were calling out.

“Sam…Sammy!”

By the time he reached you, you were thrashing around, and when he managed to pin you down he saw that your stitches had ripped, and your arm was bleeding again.

“Y/N, honey calm down, calm down!”

He hadn’t even noticed that your eyes were closed until they snapped open. As soon as you saw Sam, you scrambled away from him, and he jumped in surprise when you started to scream.

“No, no, get away! Leave me alone!”

If you hadn’t broken open your stitches, Sam would’ve listened to you. But as it was, he didn’t want you to hurt yourself, so he held onto your injured arm, keeping you from moving around but making sure to be gentle.

Not that it mattered. The pure terror on your face made it clear that as long as Sam was close, you wouldn’t be calm. You were crying now, which he supposed was better than screaming, until you started trying to kick him away from you.

“Y/N please, please calm down you’re ok, I’m just-“

Sam felt himself being jerked away from you, and he grunted when he landed hard on the floor.

“Stay away from her, Sam! Can’t you see she’s terrified?”

“She’s bleeding, Dean!” Sam was too worried about you to bother arguing with Dean, not that he really disagreed with him.

Dean grabbed onto your shoulders, trying to keep you still while he assessed you for injuries. When you saw it was Dean in front of you and not Sam, it didn’t take long for you to calm down. Dean carefully held your arm as blood dripped onto the sheets, before he turned his eyes to Sam.

“Sam. What did you do?”

Sam flinched, “I didn’t do that! She was already bleeding Dean! I only came over here because she was calling out for me, yelling my name.”

Dean shook his head, “She was terrified of you, she wouldn’t-“

“Dean it’s ok,” you reached up and grabbed at Dean’s arms. “It’s ok, I was having a nightmare. I think he’s right, I ripped the stitches in my sleep.”

Sam slowly got to his feet and looked down at you.

“You…you weren’t calling for me. You were…” Sam swallowed and averted his gaze from you. You didn’t want his help. You were having a nightmare about him hurting you.

Dean sighed, “I’m gonna have to stitch this back up before you go back to sleep.”

Neither Winchester boy missed the quiet whimper that escaped you. This night had been hard enough as is, and you hated stitches.

“Hey…” Sam took half a step closer to your bed, going as slow as possible. “Baby, please let me help you. It’s…” he scoffed, “it’s literally the least I can do. Please, let me stitch you up.”

“Sam, just let her-“

“Ok,” Dean stopped when he heard your quiet voice.

“Ok?”

You nodded, “O-ok. You can do it.”

Dean hesitantly stood to let Sam take his place at your side, but you gripped his arm.

“Don’t-don’t go.”

Dean nodded his head, carefully seating himself next to you on the bed so that Sam would have room to work.

Sam was hyper focused as he lifted the needle and began to work. He didn’t want any false moves, any missteps. He wanted to make this as painless as possible for you.

Dean held onto your hand the whole time, his eyes fixed on Sam. It was making Sam nervous, but he wasn’t about to comment on it.

About halfway through, Sam started to lean down so that he could get a closer look, trying to make sure his stitches were straight.

When you saw Sam’s face leaning towards your arm, you flinched violently and let out a frightened yelp. Sam leaned back instantly, and Dean squeezed your hand.

“You alright? I can finish if you want me to.”

You shook your head at Dean’s offer.

“I’m ok.”

Sam finished the stitches, making sure to keep his head as far away from your arm as possible as he worked. He stared at you for a long moment after he had finished, something nagging at his brain.

You and him had this…this stupid little tradition. It had started when you were four years old, and you had dropped a glass at a diner, slicing open your calf. Sam had carried you back to the motel room and stitched you up, and you had still been crying.

“It hurts, Sammy,” you whimpered.

“It’s ok, I know how to make it better,” Sam leaned down and pecked his lips against the stitches, and you giggled through your tears.

The tradition had stuck around, and every time he finished tying up your stitches, he always kissed the wound, and every time you laughed.

It was stupid, and you were probably too old for it, but…but Sam didn’t care.

You met his gaze, and seemed to read his mind. He could see the fear in your eyes, the hesitancy, and he was about to pull away when he felt your arm moving. He looked down and saw that you were lifting your arm a little closer to his face. An invitation.

Dean tensed when Sam began to lean towards your arm, but he stayed silent when he noticed that you didn’t stop him.

Sam made sure to move slowly, not wanting to scare you. He gently kissed the cut on your arm, and pulled back just slightly to look at you. You weren’t exactly up for a laugh, but he did manage to get a little half-smile.

That was plenty good enough for him.

“You ready to go back to sleep?” Dean asked, interrupting the moment.

You nodded, and Sam didn’t miss the way that you gripped onto Dean’s arm. Apparently Dean didn’t miss it either.

“How about I sleep with you here, and we let Sam have the other bed, ok?”

You tried to hide your relieved smile and failed miserably.

“Yeah ok.”

Sam pulled away from you and went to the empty bed, trying not to be hurt by the fact that you were so scared, you wanted Dean near you. It wasn’t your fault, it was his own. And at least you had let him stitch you up.

He knew he was nowhere near your good graces, and he was most certainly a million miles from Dean’s, but he also knew now that you didn’t hate him.

That would have to be good enough for now. At least until he could make it up to you.