#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.

[quandledlngle69]

･ﾟ★ " DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT. "

FROM THE BLACK!BUTLER X BLUE!LOCK COLLECTION.

☆ CONTENT: Being Chigiri’s demon butler and dealing with Chigiri’s bad days and saving him from his fall from stubbornness.

☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: Chigiri’s ACL is permanently torn resulting in him using a wheelchair most of the time; but he uses a walking cane. Mention of ableism, injury, despair, reader sees him and other humans like fragile dolls. implication of tantrums, slight mention of thrown dishes, close proximity, reader is Chigiri finds the reader off-putting. Also no implied gender here.

☆ PAIRING: Lord!Chigiri x Demon!Butler!Reader

☆ W.C. 0.9K

“My Lord, I'm concerned you are pushing yourself more than your body can take.”

You only gain a quiet grunt from across the room in return, a slow shuffling of feet filling the space. You sighed. The empty wheelchair in the corner long forgotten, its owner stubbornly leaving it a few paces behind. You were out of the room for just a few minutes. You hadn't expected him to boldly take that open window of time to attempt to walk. It was one of his frustrated days, an adamant mindset not even you could shake from him. 

He was actively limping, and soon enough you knew the outcome. 

“Young Lord, would you like your walking cane–”

“No.” He murmured, cutting you off as his narrowed eyes focused on the polished wooden floorboards, almost in a trance.

From his gritted teeth, you could tell he was in pain, but pushing through it with anger and determination. Humans were already so fragile, yet this one seemed to be made of porcelain. Looking out the window momentarily, rain thrummed from the outside, the gloomy weather reflecting the atmosphere inside, and the turmoil in Chigiri’s mind. Two bowls and several cups had already been spilled or thrown purposely that day, and you wondered how many more there would be before dinner rolls around. It was almost…amusing. The way a human would push themselves over their limits out of adamancy they were not weak.

But your Lord was weak, weaker than an average human, in mind and body.

Yet you were his body, the one he controls like its his own.

You gave it another minute, before you stepped forward, the wooden floorboards creaking under your weight.

He was clearly threatened by your body language, neck twisting in your direction and sharpened eyes implicitly telling you to back off, yet you did not move, only giving a polite smile. In his state, you knew he wouldn’t last another thirty seconds standing up with no support. In an almost miserable way, he was panting through flared nostrils, almost as if he was quietly trying to hide the dull ache in his legs, or the way they were trembling with every half–step.

Three, two, one– 

Chigiri felt his legs go numb, before finally giving out under the pressure. In an instinctive movement, his arm shot out, his fingers brushing against the edge of a nearby bookshelf, seeking to clutch the wooden frame. The once steady bookshelf jiggles violently, books–once neatly stacked–came tumbling down like a wave. Like a bullet, your legs dashed forward, right hand outstretched as it held back the tipping bookshelf. Sheltering his body with yours, a dozen works of books crashed onto the surface of your back and floor, a flurry of papers flying around and soft thuds filled the space. The back of his collar was twisted into your left palm, holding up his weight effortlessly, precluding his body from hitting the floor.

After the chaos had settled, you could only hear his soft pants in the quietness. Despite that, there was a lingering tension in the atmosphere as you peered down at him. 

His eyes widened, breath stolen away from the proximity he was unaware of until now. You were close enough to feel his breath on your face, appreciate the specs of deep pink in his eyes, and absorb his surprised expression. An unamused look was openly displayed on your features as you gently set him on the floor, the bookshelf creaking as your other hand forced it into its original position with a small grunt.

Silly boy.

Your free hand then began to reach out, “My Lord, you need to be more careful–”

His hand slapped yours, the sound echoing in the room as a beat passed.

“–Don't touch me,” He huffed irritably, attempting to stand, yet his legs gave out on him almost immediately. 

You unhurriedly grab under his arms, almost as if he was a baby, before slinging his body over your right shoulder. From his heavy breathing, you knew he was upset, and the best course of action was to stay quiet. Making your way over to the wheelchair still left in the corner, you seated him on the chair firmly. The corner of his mouth twitched as you pulled away, and you were met with a miserable look.

His chest tightened at the expression on your face. 

“Don’t give me that fucking look.” He breathed.

It was that blank look on your features that made him shiver internally, one that had the hairs on his neck standing up, and his heart rate sky rocketing, and not in a good way. It wasn’t any of the pitying looks he got from older women at balls or gatherings, or the disgusted looks of ignorant passers by. It was worse, a cold, dead look. As if your whole being was full of apathy.

Another courteous smile took over your expressionless features, but it felt empty to him. “I apologise if my facial expressions offends you, my Lord, it won’t happen again.” He watched you bow, before he let out a shaky sigh, his arms crossing over almost defensively, slightly shrinking back in his chair. His eyes ripped away from yours for a second, almost as if he was embarrassed by the whole situation.

“Leave my room,” he demanded sharply, his eyes examining you with a cautious glare. “That is an order.”

Amused, you give a polite bow, before silently disappearing from the room.

 Quandaledlngle69 © 2025

[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!

[livinghalfway]

Younger Years Pt. 2

Part 1

Summary: Damian gets temp de-aged to 6yrs old; cue him asking where his twin is. This is how everyone finds out about Danny's existence Word Count: 1608

If anyone were to ask how he reacted when Damian jumped from the bed to attack him, Dick would say that he reacted exactly as a vigilante who’s been on the job for years now would. Ask anyone else who was there to witness it though and you’d get a much different story of events. 

"Aaaahhh!" Both Dick and Damian slam onto the ground. Damian hits don't pack as much of a punch as they normally would, but that doesn't mean they're not precise when hitting a body's weak spots. "Dam- oof, Damian! It’s okay, you're safe! I'm your brother!" 

That did not have the desired effect he wished it did on the smaller boy; if anything Damian seemed to grow angrier at the mention of them being brothers. "Liar!"  

The others must have heard the commotion because the next moment the med bay door is being thrown open with everyone rushing in. Jason is the first one to get to them, and when he does he's quick to grab Damian. He holds the furiously kicking child to his chest while pinning Damian's arms to his side. 

"Dick, you alright?" Duke is kneeling by his side with a comforting hand on his shoulder as he helps Dick sit up. "Baby Damian really caught you off guard, huh?"

Somewhere in the midst of all the chaos happening Dick hears the sound of a camera click, and he can't help but smile. Another photo down!

"Damian," Bruce's voice is firm as he says, "You need to calm down; no one here is going to hurt you."

That of course does nothing to calm the child who just woke up with strangers surrounding him. "Since when has telling someone to calm down ever worked?" Tim questions as he watches everything from the doorway. 

Bruce sends a slight glare Tim's way before directing his attention back to his youngest child, "Chum, my name is Bruce Wayne, do you know who I am?"

"No, but I know that you've somehow managed to take me hostage," Damian growls out. He's stopped struggling in Jason's arms, and seems to be analyzing them all with a hard gaze. "Who are you working for?"

"Do you know about Batman?" Bruce counter questions instead of giving any kind of answer. 

"I might; is he the one behind this?" Damian for the first time looks unsure about what's happening,

Jason gives a little amused huff, "That is Batman, demon brat."

"Surely not!" Damian judgmentally looks Bruce up and down, "Batman is definitely taller than him." 

That of course got a laugh from everyone, and even Bruce had an amused smile on his face as he thought about how Damian said something similar when meeting him for the first time. 

"And do you know who Batman is when it comes to you?" Dick asks after a few seconds. It's clear at this point that Bruce is trying to see if Damian has been told who his father is. If they can establish that relationship now it might save them all from anymore attacks; at least for the rest of the night.

Instead of answering Damian tucks his chin to his chest and glares at the ground. What's really shocking though is how his body goes almost limp. It seems to shock Jason as well because his tight grip even loosen, and changes to a more gentle hold.

Asking questions probably isn't going to get the baby assassin to trust Dick thinks to himself; not with how his youngest brother was raised. They're going to have to try something else, "Hey Dami, how about we-" 

Before he can continue though Dick is cut off by a loud smacking sound. Damian had very suddenly thrown his head back so that it would hit Jason square in the face. He wouldn't be surprised if it even broke Jason's nose from the sound.

With Jason's grip already loose it doesn't take a lot of effort for Damian to escape his grasp, and make a run for the door. Tim, who was far more focused on his camera, didn’t even have a second to properly react before he was being knocked out of the way. Allowing the young child access to the whole cave.  

"Motherfu-" Jason cuts himself off with a groan before running towards the door as well, "You really let him run right past you, Timbo?"

"You're the one who let him go!"

"He broke my nose!" 

"Guys!" Duke shouts as he runs past the two of them, "let's focus on finding Damian before fighting with each other!" 

That kicked everyone into gear as soon all of them were now trying to find the escapee who had seemingly disappeared. The only thing they can hope for right now is that he doesn't find a weapon of any kind. 

Everyone has split off in different areas to search, and taking the situation more seriously knowing that the kid could pop out of anywhere and attack them. It's not until after 20 mins of searching that Dick decides to just start speaking, hoping that he can somehow convince him to come out of hiding at the very least. 

"Damian, I know that you know Batman is your father, and now you know that Bruce," He gestures to where the older man is standing, "is Batman; your father! I swear you are safe here."

The cave is covered in silence as everyone waits for a response to come. Just as it looks like nothing will happen a slight but deliberate sound comes from the side of where he is.

"Damia-" 

"Silence." Damian speaks forward enough to be seen, but making sure to stand out of reach, "Did Mother set this test up? Grandfather? Either way I'm not falling for it. If you wanted to make this more convincing you should have included my brother."

Dick felt a pain in his chest at that word. Brother? Did Damian really have a brother while at the league? Is he talking about a sort of battle brother, or did Talia have another kid? Is it Bruce's kid? Taking a glance to where Bruce is he sees that the man must be having the same thoughts as his face sits somewhere between anger and grief. 

"You have a brother!?" Tim is the one that finally asks the question on everyone's mind. 

"There is no need to continue this act; I've already figured out that this isn't real."

"Like the same mom, same dad type of brother?" Duke even looks aghast at the revelation of a second possible child of Bruce. 

Damian only looks more annoyed at each question, but answers anyway in a tone that makes it clear that he thinks the answer is obvious, "Tt of course. That tends to be the case with twins after all." 

Damian has a twin?

The de-aged child in front of him could lie about a lot of things right now to get an advantage in this situation, but what advantage does lying about a twin get him? Damian seems so sure that all of this is a test from the league. There is no way he could lie about something like this. 

Damian is a twin. 

As much as Dick wished it wasn’t true he couldn’t lie to himself about this. Between the ages of 6 and 10 something must have happened to the other boy. He’d bet money that whatever it was made Talia bring Damian to the manor. Why did she or Damian never say anything? Was his brother even given the chance to mourn the loss of his brother?

Damian had a twin. 

"Jason, you were with the league for a while, did Damian really have a twin?" Tim whispers quietly to the man standing next to him.

"I wasn't exactly in the right state of mind when I was there, and even then I never saw the brat or brats I suppose." 

"Enough!" Damian suddenly slams a foot onto the ground clearly done with everyone around him whispering, "the test is done, and I'm ready to return back to the compound." 

Tim now turns to Bruce with nothing but shock still on his face, "I think it'd be easier to just explain the truth to him. Otherwise this is what the next couple days are going to be like.”

"The baby assassin is just going to keep attacking us and trying to escape otherwise." Jason adds on as well as he takes a seat at the center table. “I for one would like to keep the demon spawn close by because I’ve got some questions he’s going to need to answer ASAP when he’s normal again.”

Bruce seems to finally snap out of his trance and slowly starts to make his way to Damian. Once he's just out of reach of his son he kneels down so that he's much closer to Damian's current height. "Son, this isn't a test, and I am your father.”

"You are a liar; my father wouldn't leave Danyal behind!" 

No one was surprised this time when Damian sprung forward to attack Bruce. In the end Alfred had to give him a light sedative to calm him down enough to be laid back down on the med bay bed. Duke even went upstairs, and brought Alfred the cat down to sleep in the boy's lap. Unsurprisingly, that cat still loves him when he's this small. 

For now they can only hope that things will be calmer when Damian wakes up again. 

The cave after that was met with suffocating silence as there was only one thought in everyone's head.

"What happened to Danyal?"

[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.

[everythingseasoning]

love, forever?

vampire! Suguru Geto x reader x vampire! Satoru Gojo

Tags: Morality, and selfishness vs selflessness themes. // Vampire! Suguru and Satoru, who are vampire hunters that protect humans from evil ones. // Blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. // AU characters. Satoru is clingier and more emotional than his canon self. Suguru despises the strong (vampires) for hurting the weak (humans). // New vampire lore ;). // Angst. Suguru battling his inner demons, trying to do good despite his vampire nature and urges. // Reader has multiple targets on her back (Naoya appearance!) // Both Suguru and Satoru fall for reader. // Eventual smut in later chapters. //

Chapter Warnings: College party drinking, Reader slaps Satoru, Mentions of blood and feeding, Reader falls in a ditch (LOL), Suggestiveness, MDNI

Chapter Word Count: ~4.3k (it’s worth it!)

NOTE: even if you you saw the teaser already, or any edit of the teaser, please read this chapter, as I’ve edited it a lot, and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;)

Ch. 01 | Living Haunted

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. You could see that she might be his type. Green jealousy explodes in your chest, along with a poisonous, deep sense of insecurity. The horrible feelings move through your body. Was he moving on already? Did you really mean so little to him? Would she be the one to make him stay?

You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the painful twisting motion of your heart would be soon dulled. Coca Cola, sherbet, and yakult alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes. 

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?” 

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat when you see such a beautiful stranger. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, chuckling as you braid his hair, the nonfiction book he’s been reading facedown in his lap as your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; The warmth and sturdiness of his hands against your face as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right. 

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fleeting dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace, your face buried in his sturdy chest— that feeling of being cared for— 

You missed him bad, with every fiber of your being. 

Suguru is still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and you still came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following? 

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply. 

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party. 

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming. 

“And you are?” 

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go here, don’t you know?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?” 

Satoru just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky person. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

Satoru waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?” 

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not ever met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him. 

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” he says. 

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your focus isn’t on that.

You’re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with. 

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. You’re hurt. You’re aching in confusion about what wasn’t good enough about you. You’re angry and betrayed— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear, “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat of the stuffy, overcrowded room. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking— 

And he’s gone. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle. 

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue. He’s spitting it out back into the bottle immediately. 

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of lovely bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam. 

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs. 

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, then?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru notices, but says nothing, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper. 

“And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love—d her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d have missed it.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru. 

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They do. But there’s something the myths forgot. Some sort of change is written in a vampire’s eyes. There always has been, and always will be, some sort of difference from a person’s antecedent human form, and their new, evolved one, hidden in their eyes after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy. 

That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. He woke up with them, the day after everything changed. 

Suguru’s tired reflection stares back at him, rich amethyst irises shining like glossy, sharp stars in the mirror. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness. 

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave. He grimaces at the knowing that his vampire instincts made him crave you dangerously, the one he loves, more than anything else. It was cursed, his very existence. He was turned into a walking, sentient, functioning monster. The blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly.

“So,” Satoru grunts with chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires. It’s something Suguru was grateful for, considering his job of being a vampire slayer. 

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand. 

But Satoru presses on anyway, nodding, looking bored. 

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all, on that unwelcomed, fateful night. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget— You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.” 

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. If you and I didn’t always ask for consent before feeding, I’d never have believed she would be okay with that,” Satoru’s eyes gleam playfully. Suguru doesn’t reply, and Satoru deflates. 

“You’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.” 

Ah. The truth comes out. Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes. 

“Satoru, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out. He curses silently in disgust at what he has become. 

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching. 

“Well. I need to feed again.” 

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door. Did he need the black coat? No. Not at all. Vampires don’t get cold. They’re already icy to the touch. But it helps him blend in, both with humans and the night. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot. 

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. 

He slips through the shadows. 

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you. 

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

If Satoru was being honest, this was a chance to understand the enemy. The golden goal would be to get Suguru to forget about you and move on, so his best friend could finally look and be alive again, the two of them happily slaying the vampires that hurt humans— and this was the first step in his plan. 

“Hey,” he nearly purrs, slinking around you as you take a step forward— stumbling a bit— 

Cold fingers grip you firmly, holding you upright. Satoru: 1, gravity: 0. 

“You’re fucking making me freeze even more!” You retort, snapping at him as you yank your warm arm away from his cool grasp. You were more than tipsy, but you recalled his rudeness from earlier.

He lets you go and you teeter. “Just trying to help. You sure aren’t shy, huh?” Satoru remarks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spit out, the question giving you both Deja vu.

“It means what it means,” Satoru grins. Deja-fucking-vu. You’re getting fed up now, huffing and mumbling under your alcohol-tinged breath, an insult that Satoru’s super hearing picks up on. He stifles a laugh. You keep walking. 

“Wait,” Satoru calls out. You don’t turn around or slow your snail-like pace. He strides up to you in two quick, lengthy steps. He bends, entering your vision, his teeth sharp and protruding from his close lipped smile. Were they always that long?

“I’m great at reading people. And as much as you want to deny it, your heart is beating faster around me.” He suppresses his urge to poke your ribcage, directly over the beating muscle. 

“Shut up,” you growl. 

“You could make me, you know.”

“There you go again with that cliche flirting,” you snort. 

“And here I am again, asking if you’re offering lessons. Though the better question would be if you’re even qualified to give them,” Satoru grins.

He keeps up with your sluggish pace as you try to make your way back to the dorms.

“What do you want from me? Don’t you think it’s weird to be flirting with your best friend’s ex?” 

You think this will shut him up. That, or he’ll have a lame excuse. But for the first time in this second conversation you’re having with him, his answer changes.

“If I’m being honest,” he speaks in a rich, velvety, low voice, and you almost feel entranced, your feet stopping, your gaze resting on Satoru. “I’m doing this for him. And about what I want?” 

You sway in the chilly night breeze, barely registering anything but the sound of his voice. 

“I want to know you better,” he purrs. You’re breathless as he continues, his voice like a siren in your ear, “If you were sober, would you let me bite you?”

He pulls away, and you’re back to your senses in a second. You feel like slapping him again. You almost do, but your hand misses, causing you to stumble. 

“Too slow!” He cackles as you tumble onto the ground, your dress flying up.

You look absolutely humiliated, livid, and harmless from the ground, eyes narrowed in deep hatred for this weirdo. 

“Need a hand?” Satoru smirks, his tall, silhouetted form outlined in light from the lamp behind him. 

You push off the cold cement, ignoring him, fuming silently as you continue your drunken walk to the dorms. That typical pang of hunger hits Satoru out of the blue, impelling him to leave.

“I have to go now. See you around,” Satoru says, before disappearing, the need to find a sober person he can get consent from to feed on overpowering him. 

Suddenly the night is quiet again, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. You keep walking, not realizing that there are no longer lamps to light the way until you’re surrounded by darkness. You aren’t familiar with this part of campus, squinting to see the road sign to your right. You barely make out the words ‘Under Construction’ written in bold black letters, and you shiver as the cool breeze swings through the area. A snapping twig sounds behind you and your eyes widen, fear running through your intoxicated bloodstream. 

“Hello?” You call out. You hate to admit it, but you regret letting Satoru leave. Nobody answers.

You take another step into the darkness, speeding up your pace. Another snap of a twig, and you’re breaking out into a full blown run now— blood rushes through your ears—

Something catches your foot, and you tumble forward, falling down into a ditch, knocking out.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru sighs contentedly, his eyes crossing as he swallows his last gulp of blood for the night. The woman is staring at the ceiling with a lovestruck look, the pleasure from the toxin in his fangs acting like a drug. He releases his lips from her skin, licking at the two puncture marks on her neck. 

“Fuck…” She mewls, leaning in to kiss Satoru. He lets her kiss him.

“Look at me,” Satoru commands gently, his voice taking on a different tone now— and she’s under his spell in an instant. 

“Forget this entire interaction. Forget that you ever saw me. Forget that I fed on you. Don’t question the slight tenderness in your neck tomorrow morning. Associate it with sleeping weirdly,” he murmurs, and she’s caught on his every word, nodding when he stops talking. 

“Good.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru retraces his steps, walking on the road he last saw you on. His teeth have retracted, going back to a normal length, as they always do after he’s fed. Yeah, he may be selfish, jealous, and dislike you— but he’s not a villain. It’s late, you are intoxicated, and he still wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“She’s probably fast asleep back at her dorm. I’m just wasting my time,” he grumbles in the dark. But he just has this funny feeling, like something happened, and now he’s acting like some lovesick fool that worries and checks in on their lover. 

Blood. Satoru smells it, that familiar, rich, sharp scent that sends a rush of electricity through his body. Because he just fed, his brain doesn’t light up as it usually would, and he realizes that somebody is hurt— and that somebody is probably you. 

Satoru’s legs are a blur as he races towards the source—

He stands over a dirt edge, a hole in the path made by the ongoing construction. You lay in the ditch looking like a broken doll, effectively knocked out. There’s a gash on your arm and knee. 

“Fuck,” Satoru curses, quickly climbing down to get to you. He’s by your side in a flash, checking your pulse. It’s normal. He feels the tension in his body drain. You’re probably just passed out from the combination of alcohol and falling in a ditch. Satoru rolls his eyes, huffing, “Idiot,” as he scoops you up into his arms. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

He didn’t know what to do. Leave you in the hallway of the coed dorm? Drop you off at the 24/hour care station? He figured he should do the latter, and so he went. 

He dings the bell at the front desk, shifting to readjust your relaxed body. Ten seconds go by. During that time, Satoru finds himself staring at your face, a few smears of dirt on your skin. You breathe in and out, because you have to. It’s not like him and Suguru, who breathe to fake their normalness and blend in. They have no need for oxygen. Your lips look so soft. Your chest rising and falling gently, you look totally at peace, and Satoru is mesmerized. He gets lost in the rhythm of your breaths for a moment— the steady beat of your heart bringing about a peace and longing ache in his own lifeless one. He snaps out of his daze, and rings the bell again, huffing impatiently. Another ten seconds go by, and he starts to spam the bell. 

“Where are they?” He grumbles. Satoru slips behind the desk, frowning and pissy, looking into the back room. Nobody is there. 

“Seriously?” 

He can’t just leave you here when the door is unlocked and the place is unattended. Satoru curses under his breath again, looking down at your sleeping face, your body curled against his frame in his arms. 

“Guess Suguru has to confront his demons tonight,” Satoru sighs, not realizing the weight of the statement he’s just uttered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Sweet, mouth-watering, the scent of a dream— it wafts through the hallway, into his room, and Suguru wakes up with a growling stomach. 

Human blood. One that smells absolutely ravishing. Suguru sits up, alert and awake, wondering if Satoru brought back somebody to share, somebody who wanted to be fed on and possibly fucked by the two of them. The raven-haired man stands up and tears open his door—

Satoru is hunched over a body on the couch. Suguru makes his way over, his fangs protruding, his amethyst eyes glinting with hunger—

Satoru finishes wiping the blood off your arm, the sight of the red cloth in his hand making Suguru freeze when he realizes Satoru brought back a hurt person.

“Satoru–” 

Satoru turns, standing up, and Suguru finally catches a glimpse of who is on their couch. If his heart was beating, it would have skipped a beat. 

Suguru’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape. You?

“Hey,” the snowy-haired vampire says. “Before you get pissed—!”

Suguru is crossing the living room in a flash, shoving Satoru up against the wall. Suguru’s head is ringing, swirling with hunger, anger, fear, grief, and shame. Something as seemingly small as the sight of you did that to him. 

“Did you fucking hurt her? I swear to god, if you so much as touched a hair on her head—” Suguru hisses before Satoru shoves his best friend back, scowling.

“Listen for a second! She was in a ditch when I found her, okay? By the construction site. I may not like this little pest of a weakling, but I didn’t hurt her,” Satoru retorts. Suguru backs off, clenching his fists so hard that it draws red blood of his own. His eyes burn holes into the floorboards. 

Satoru watches, a beat of silence passing before he speaks up, “Hey, Suguru. Just… just take a moment to get a hold of yourself. If you have to take a walk…”

What Satoru didn’t understand was how absolutely feral Suguru was for you, down to a chemical level. Bringing you around was enough to make Suguru’s head pound with a dizzying need to feast on you— but bringing you when you were bleeding? Suguru is feeling white hot need pulse throughout his body.

“She— she’s not supposed to be here—” Suguru manages to say, his voice strained. 

“Why–”

“She can’t be by me!” Suguru roars, looking up from the ground to meet Satoru’s shocked gaze. Suguru’s purple eyes are filled with a storm of anger and pain, and Satoru opens his mouth to apologize—

But Suguru is gone in a blink, the door to their apartment creaking as yellow light from the hallway spills in, falling on your face, painting you in a soft glow. 

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[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.

[stevesgother]

ahhhhhhh there it is ! 💌 love letter officially deposited hehe

thank you sm for answering my inbox message and for taking in my request. Steve Harrington girlies forever and ever amen !!!

Pairing - Steve Harrington x GN!Reader

WC - 1.3k

Warnings - mention of character death, canon typical violence/gore, sad stebe, flangst, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, depictions of ptsd

Request by @sheisjoeschateau w/ the prompts - barely proofread. i'm really sick, cut me some slack

“The panic between thinking you lost them and the relief of seeing they are okay” + “Just please, don’t leave me.”

“Let me go!” You all but scream as Nancy holds you back by your waist from the squelching, pulsating gate in Eddie’s trailer ceiling.

“You can’t go back, it’s too dangerous!” Dustin tries to reason with you but his pleas fall on deaf ears. Eddie’s down there– Steve is down there. Your Steve. If they aren’t going to help them, then you will.

You know you’ll be apologizing profusely for this later– already thinking of ways you can make it up to her as you rear back, driving your skull into Nancy’s nose with just enough force for her to loosen her grip. When she stumbles back, you don’t waste the opportunity to grab onto the makeshift rope and hoist yourself into that dank, unforgiving hellhole.

Not nearly as agile as Steve, you land on your back with a harsh ‘thump!’ and realize with a stark clarity that Eddie must’ve moved the mattress. There are a solid ten seconds where you can’t seem to convince your lungs to suck in oxygen, and you lie there squirming uncomfortably until your alveoli start to inflate again.

You hobble out of the trailer with as much agility as you can muster, calling for Steve and Eddie all the while. A trash can lid with nails protrudes from the ground, surrounded by tiny scraps of clothing littering the dirt. Bile rises in your throat at the thought that they could’ve belonged to Steve.

“Eddie!?” You whisper yell, as not to bring unwanted attention to your location. You may be impulsive, but you’re not stupid. Screaming down here would be like ringing the dinner bell for interdimensional demons, “Steve!”

About thirty yards from the front door of Eddie’s trailer, you see a bloodied and bruised figure hunched over another mass. From this distance, they seem to be moving– a rhythmic rise and fall of broad shoulders.

Knowing exactly who you’re looking at and expecting the worst, you sprint to the huddle as fast as your appendages will carry you. Your lungs burn from the exertion of it, combined with the less-than-stellar quality of the air in this alternate dimension.

Steve is giving Eddie CPR, or at least attempting to. He’s badly injured himself– his lifeguard training never prepared him for something like this.

“Steve!” You grab his shoulders when you reach him, and one look at Eddie informs you that he’s gone, “Steve, we have to go, I’m sorry,”

Lost to his dissociative state, it’s hard to tell how long he’s been down here hunkered over Eddie’s dying form for. He barely acknowledges your presence, only muttering a weak ‘gotta save him.’

“He’s gone, Steve,” you manage to bite back the sob that threatens to spill through your lips like hot blood, “We have to go. Now.”

Using all your will and every ounce of strength you have left, you pull your best friend to his feet with a promise to come back and get Eddie when this is all over. The gashes in his sides are weeping and caked with dirt, infection will set in soon. You needed to get him to a hospital yesterday.

The leather of Nancy’s Mercury Grand Marquis is cold and biting at the bare expanse of your right thigh; your clothes having been torn to shreds earlier in the evening. Steve’s head lies motionless against your lap where he’s curled into a fetal position on the bench of the backseat.

“Are we almost there?” You ask Nancy for the fourth time. The Earth had split clean in two– at least it did in your sleepy town that you’d called home your entire life. The home you’d met Steve in. The home you’d almost lost him in.

“About four more minutes,” she called back from the driver’s seat, “traffics’ backed up, I promise I’m going as fast as I can,” she hits a particularly deep pothole and Steve groans as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

You run a soothing hand over his albeit grimy hair, “I know, it’s okay. You’re gonna be okay, Stevie,” you reassure, not even entirely sure he can hear you. You’d talk to Steve forever. In life or in death– in disaster or in peace. Whether he could hear you or not.

Nancy came to a halting stop in front of the Hawkin’s Memorial Hospital’s emergency room entrance. Despite being brushed off by several hospital staff, she continues to demand for a gurney until a resident sidles one up to the car for Steve.

Without thinking twice, you try to enter with him– his hand locked tightly in yours.

“Are you family?” The resident asks in a scruffy voice as he narrows his eyes at you questioningly.

“I–” Yes. No. Kind of? Not the blood kind. But he has no other family, at least not in the way that counts. Just you, and this ragtag group of teenagers. “Yes.”

He doesn’t question you again as he ushers the two of you into the emergency room, and the on-call doctor assesses his injuries.

Four hours and fifty seven stitches later, Steve still hasn’t regained consciousness. The staff assures you that he will– but that they gave him an anesthetic and pain medicine that’s keeping him knocked out cold. You lay with your head resting against his hospital gown clad chest, still keeping a firm grasp on his calloused hand. You didn’t plan on letting go any time soon.

A groan, not unlike the one he released in the car, breaks through the cacophony of hospital noises causing you to snap to attention. His eyes peel open slowly and one at a time– a look of recognition and fondness passing over his features when he realizes it’s you. His voice cracks with misuse as he says your name.

“Steve. You’re okay,” you try not to disturb his web of hospital wiring and stitches as you hug him a bit tighter.

“I’m okay,” he reassures you with a wobbly smile.

“I love you.” You blurt it out like it’s sour acid on your tongue– painful to keep it in for even a second longer.

He squeezes your hand, “I love you, too,”

“No, I–” you inhale a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“Oh…” he whispers, realization flickering across his features.

“I’m sorry– I know this is such shitty timing. Just, after everything, I mean I– I thought I was going to lose you before I ever got to say anything and I–”

“Hey–” he interrupts your rambling with a shaky hand to the apple of your cheek, “I love you, too,” he repeats the words in the same clarifying cadence as you did, causing you to crack a small smile.

“Let me go get the others,” you say as you get up, antsy to let everyone know he’s awake. But before you even have the chance to leave the chair, a firm hand grips your wrist.

You can see a flash of fear and the subtle well of tears above his lash line, “Don’t go,”

“Are you sure? They’re all really worried about you,”

“I’m sure just– just please, don’t go,” and the pleading look in his eyes crumbled what was left of your already deteriorating resolve.

“Okay, Steve,” you sit back down from where you were hovering over the uncomfortable plastic chair, “I’ll stay. I’m right here.”

Steve scoots his body close to the edge of the hospital bed, and you lie down next to him with an arm around his torso. The warmth of the embrace and the release of a ten-year-long breath is enough to lull you both into a peaceful sleep.

divider credit @cafekitsune

[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.

[azfellesquire]

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.