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#who appear to be living their of their own free will
ithebookhoarder · 3 days
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Do you have any criminal minds fics in progress? I’d love to see more of your work for them :)
A Sweet Surprise (Aaron Hotchner x AFAB!Reader)
A/N: Oh do I? Haha. Well, whilst my inbox of requests is bursting this randomly fell out of my brain, so great timing with this I guess? I promise I will get to the other stories soon people - in the meantime, enjoy xxx
Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then visit my Ko-fi here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️
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Warnings: Alcohol, mentions of pregnancy, Aaron being a protective partner
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“Aaron, honey, stop," you giggled, trying and failing to wriggle free from your husband’s wandering hands. "I swear, I am fine. Don’t make me banish you back into the living room. You know Garcia has been dying to get you to play Monopoly and, so help me God, I will tell her you’re dying to be the shoe.“
Aaron’s laugh was infectious and if you weren’t so stressed you’d have melted into him. Instead, your eyes narrowed into a warning glare as he reached for you again. 
“I just think you should let me help you, honey-” he pleaded, falling silent as soon as you heard footsteps approaching the kitchen doorway. You glanced up, watching as your host for the evening, Rossi, appeared, an empty glass of wine in hand. He had clearly come in need of a refill of whatever expensive vintage he had cracked open for your monthly team dinner. 
“Help with what?” he teased, watching as Aaron sheepishly stepped back, as if he was a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. “Aaron, you may be the boss in the office but in the kitchen? We both know Y/N is the only one I trust to help me cook, so leave her be and come relax in the other room, ok? She clearly has dessert handled.” 
“Thank you, Rossi.” You smirked, pushing Aaron back with a floured covered hand. “I told him I could handle a pie, but you know what he’s like.”
“I’m just offering to help.”
“Which I thank you for, but I got this,” you assured, even if he clearly disagreed. 
“I know, but it’s been a long day, why don’t you let me finish this-”
“Aaron Hotchner, go and sit down. Now.”
Rossi’s eyes widened as he let the bickering continue, waiting until he had finished filling his glass before he decided to weigh in again. He knew the pair of you better than you knew yourselves sometimes and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out what was going on here. 
Aaron was protective of those he loved at the best of times, but something was different - and considering you hadn’t touched any of the drinks that had been put in front of you tonight, he had a pretty good idea what.  
“Aaron,” he sighed, placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, come have a drink with me and the team. We both know Y/N is going to be ok. She’ll join us in a minute, or she’ll ask if she needs help.” 
"But-"
"Leave the poor girl alone," Rossi teased, shooting you both a knowing look. “Otherwise, you'll give yourselves away before we even get to dinner.”
Aaron coughed but failed to hide the shock on his face. It was no use either of you trying to deny it, not when your closest friends were also profilers. If anything, you were surprised you two had been able to hide it this long - and it had only been a mere week since you’d first told him the good news. 
“Ah,” he choked, turning slightly red. However, he relaxed as soon as you turned and pressed a kiss against his cheek. He could see you were relieved by the discovery, rather than upset, and that was enough to make him remember who it was he was sharing the news with. 
"Ha! I told youuuuu,” you sang smugly. “And now you owe me $50. I knew you’d be the one to give it away.” 
“Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up, sweetheart.”
“Oh, I will.” 
“Well, congratulations to you both,” Rossi said simply, lifting his glass in a silent toast. He then shook Aaron’s hand and reached to pull you into a hug of his own. However, it was he went to let you go that he paused. “And Y/N? If you do need a break, or want me to finish dessert, I can-“
"Oh my god, Rossi! Not you too,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. “Are you going to tell anyone?”  
“Oh, hell no,” he chuckled. “Given your performance tonight, I want to see if you can manage to keep it a secret from the team until dinner, let alone until work on Monday."
"So much for the being the best profilers in the US," you snorted, remembering how it had been Jack who had first worked it out rather than his usually observant father. He'd been the one to spot the pregnancy pamphlets hidden in your purse, after digging to find the candy he knew you always kept in there.
Of course, he'd only reacted with excitement upon learning he was going to be a big brother - leading to him bursting into the house, asking when he'd get to play with his new sibling... yeah, you'd thought Aaron was about to pass out he went so white.
“Hey, now. In my defence,” Aaron protested, “you're not showing yet."
"So my weird ass craving requests didn't tip you off?"
"Honey, you eat so much weird shit normally... Like, so much. Even Jack wouldn't eat half the stuff you do."
Well, he had you there. "... You still owe me $50."
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fanfic-obsessed · 14 hours
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Well...That Esclated Quickly
Here is another idea that came to me during my walk to work.  I want you to know, though it goes in a humorous direction it really is not a full fix-it. 
When Order 66 went live, some of the chips did not activate. There is no rhyme nor reason as to which chips activate and which did not. Not a huge amount compared to the whole, but some. Enough that a few hundred Jedi and a Few thousand Clones regroup in the aftermath. 
While you can fill in most of the blanks the following are included in my idea
Obi Wan Kenobi and a company’s worth of 212th clones, including Cody: Obi Wan was still shot off the cliff, to the horrified eyes of the still free clones. The still free clones don't have enough numbers to take on their brethren who appear to have gone insane, but do have enough to steal one of the midsized transport ships, one capable of hyperspace flight.  They reluctantly allow Obi Wan to go to Coruscant on his own, with the rationale that one person can sneak to the surface much easier than a whole company, while the clones establish a regroup point.  From there Obi Wan goes on the Mustafar, which ends as it did in canon. Obi Wan brings Padme to the transport ship where she still dies of complications of her pregnancy
Fox, Hound, a dozen other members of the CG, and the Younglings: Fox and the few members of the CG that were unaffected by O66 raced to beat the 501st to the Temple. They made it just a few minutes before their enslaved brothers. Just barely in time to evacuate the children in the creche with the help (and insistent sacrifice) of the adult Jedi.  While there were a few Creche Masters evacuated with the children, it was now basically just Fox and his CG functionally in charge of baby Jedi ranging from Babies to Pre teens. They connect with remains of the 212th before the events of Mustafar. 
Yoda, who did still have to kill his commander in order to escape, but was able to bring a few clones with him.  They still end up being collected by Bail Organa.
Ahsoka, Rex, Jesse and  a portion of the maintenance team for their battalion: They do not meet up with the rest for quite some time (at least three years). Rex’s chip did activate but he was able to get Ahsoka the message about Fives. After Rex is freed they find Jesse and the other free clones (soft shells all) looking on in horror at their controlled brethren. With the help of the maintenance team they are able to escape from the ship without freeing Maul or crashing into the moon.  By the time they are able to look past the immediate situation, the Temple is already burning and it has been announced that the Jedi are traitors. These 25 or so go to ground in Mandalorian space and try to figure out how to free the clones from the chips (beyond surgery which really does not work with the numbers they have to deal with). They do not realize anyone else has survived. 
Aayla survived, due to one of the clones (not Bly) pushing her out of the way and sacrificing his life for her. Bly’s chip does work. She escapes with two dozen free clones and six chipped clones tied up in the back (Including Bly, even the clones agree they cannot save everyone and hopefully it means that they can figure out what is going wrong).
Shaak Ti, 10 Veteran clones, 40 ‘Shinies’, 300 child and teenage cadets, three junior Kaminoan Scientists (not Nala Se) none of which knew about the chip or Order 66, and Omega.  Shaak Ti had been working with a few Kaminoan Scientists to see the clones as sentients in their own right and the reactions of the clones under the chip's control horrified a few of those scientists.  Between them and Omega, who had been paying attention and used this as a chance to escape the lab (the Bad Batch being off planet at the time) they were able to evacuate anyone not under the control of the chip. 
All of these people (Barring Ahsoka and Co) converge on the ship that had been stolen by the free 212th clones. Had less children survived (about a third of the living Jedi are children under the age of 11, plus the cadets) they all would likely have split into small groups and made their own way through the galaxy. But there was just no way to break into small enough groups to be safe AND still make sure the children (and to some extent the Shinies) were taken care of.  They were also too large a group to go anywhere in the Republic, or even anywhere in Mandalorian space (There were an awful lot of uninhabited planets in the galaxy but most were uninhabited for a reason). Thus there was only one thing they could do.
Take over the Hutt Empire.
To be fair the take over part did start out accidentally. The actual goal was to find a place to lay low in the Hutt Empire, possibly the only place Palpatine’s Empire could not reach quite yet(at least until Palpatine solidified his rule). 
So they found a planet within the Hutt Empire to lay low on, While Bail Organa left to begin planting the seeds for the rebellion (No Leia as the twins were not being split up). As much as I want it to be Tattoine, it just has too small a population to not have a couple of thousand people (Most of whom hide their very distinctive faces) showing not be noticeable. So they choose a planet with a higher population. 
This is where the trouble began. All of our adults are deeply traumatized, trained warriors who are not used to sitting by, universally feeling useless. They are facing an insurmountable task, still mostly directionless, and deeply angry at life.  
It starts with the local Hutt’s minions trying to shake down some newcomers, who were not looking for a target to vent their spleen but found one just the same. It does not end well for the minions. Nor the next six attempts, with different groups of Clones and Jedi each time.  No one has told Command yet, but they look at each other and ‘shit we can’t keep drawing attention to ourselves but we can’t leave either’
The solution (Commander Cody himself would like to reiterate this was not the correct solution)? Take out the Hutt. Then they realize that taking out the Hutt has just drawn more attention to this city as the other Hutts for the planet try to figure out who took out this one.
The next Solution? Take out the rest of the Hutts on the planet. 
They have now drawn even more attention to the planet from yet more Hutts. This is the one thing that is critical they do not have. 
The next Solution? Try three to make this plan work (Commander Cody reminds you that trying the same thing over and over again, hoping for different results, is the definition of insanity) and take out the Hutts looking for answers. 
By the time that these small groups have admitted to Command (Obi Wan, Cody, Yoda, Shaak Ti, Fox) what is going on, a few months later, they have accidentally taken over the Hutt Empire.
The Hutt Empire that is still nominally allied with Palpatine’s Empire. The Hutt Empire that has to stay allied to Palpatine’s Empire if they do not want to draw the attention of the entire Imperial Forces to the largest concentration of living Jedi and free Clones in the galaxy.  The Hutt Empire that no longer has any active Hutts. 
In this the human centric leaning of Palpatine’s Empire is actually helpful.  They very rarely wanted to deal with other species, so it was easy to appoint someone unknown but human to deal with the com calls and visits. It does mean that they have to make up a Hutt that they essentially have to play ‘Weekend at Bernie’s’ with, a couple of times a year when a representative insists on meeting with the Hutt in charge. 
Also the fact that Palpatine’s Empire is more interested in enslaving their own citizens for free as opposed to buying them from the Hutts means that they can shut down the slave trade within Hutt Space (over time).  Fox both loves and hates running a criminal empire. 
It should be noted that, even with Bly and the five other chipped clones, no one actually knows what is going on until Rex and Co find their way back to them.  We are going with the thought that a level 5 atomic scan is a ludicrously high level of scanning. Like sitting on a Nuclear Reactor to get an X-Ray kind of ludicrous, so not only does no one think to do that level of scanning to see what is wrong, but they do not even have that kind of equipment readily available.  The reports about Fives from Rex never made it to any kind of centralized repository, there is no way to know why most clones suddenly started to kill Jedi. Bly and Co spend the three years before Rex shows up in a makeshift brig, they can function almost normally until a Jedi is brought up or in the room with them. 
Bail laughs his ass off when he is told, through several intermediaries and coded messages, that the Jedi and the Clones accidentally took over a criminal empire.  Then he starts funneling the Path and the people his rebellion are rescuing into Hutt Space to find the Jedi. 
Three years in Rex, Ahsoka, the clones with them (now having grown to nearly another thousand) arrive with the news that they can disable the chips from a distance of about a large cruiser. 
That is how the Hutt Empire became freedom fighters.
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fulcrvm · 12 hours
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Last Line Tag Game
Thanks for tagging me @teejaystumbles ! A really nice surprise!! :D I am indeed contemplating writing two Dead Boy Detectives fic right now, but they're both in the very early 'being-outlined-in-my-head' stage, haha. They both revolve around post-s1 Edwin pining for Charles, one where Edwin takes matters into his own hands and one where he decides to have a chat with the Cat King about it. Not sure if they'll ever be written but they're intriguing!
But for the sake of the tag game, here's a lengthy bit from a Dreamling wip I've slowly been chipping away at for a few months!
A scene from Every Little Thing (Working Title)— In which Morpheus is a figure drawing professor who has just been fired from a film production based on his comics, and Hob does part-time figure modeling and is determined befriend the aforementioned professor.
Morpheus picks his class schedules wisely— he runs two first year general figure drawing classes, at 8 a.m. and at noon on Mondays and Thursdays. He helps the uni’s live figure workshop club on Wednesdays and Fridays at 6 p.m., and meets his sister for lunch on Wednesdays. All other free time was dedicated for his industry work. That wouldn’t be a concern anymore, would it. By the time Morpheus unlocks the door to the studio, sets his bag down by his desk, and starts fiddling with the ceiling studio lights pointed at the model stand, all of Morpheus’ thoughts have reduced to pure spite. Fine, maybe the big studios don’t want him. They don’t deserve him, then, their loss. His portfolio and repertoire are infamous in the industry, they’ll be crawling back to him in no time. Too bad, maybe he would have started his own production studio and he’ll end up with the next ground-breaking animated film. Maybe— Morpheus’ thoughts are interrupted by a knock at the door. He shakes himself out of it, calling, “Come in.” A glance at his watch tells him it’s only 7:48, perhaps it’s an overeager student here early. It’s only the second week of the semester, they grab every opportunity to prove themselves with a spirited step that Morpheus might be slightly envious of. “Hello, Morpheus Endeles?” Hearing his full name startles Morpheus, and he turns from the lighting settings to the door. “Yes?” The man who steps into view can only be described as radiant. He can’t be much older than Morpheus, not much taller either but wider in the shoulders. His hair is cropped just above his shoulders and he sports a neatly kept beard. Morpheus registers this all first simply because of his profession but— he gets caught on the man’s brilliant smile and deep brown eyes. There’s something there that knocks all thoughts clear out of Morpheus’ head. The stranger smiles warmly, smiles like he already cares. “I’m here to model for the morning and noon figure classes?” The man says. Morpheus clears his throat and steps forward, “Yes, this is the right studio.” He extends a hand, “Robert Gadling, I presume?” The man takes his hand— god, he’s so warm— and shakes it steadily, “Please, call me Hob! All my friends do.”
I'm a sucker for the 'Morpheus catalogues Hob's appearance during their first meeting' trope in most Dreamling human AU fics, I couldn't not do it too :]
Besides this, I've also got a Dreamling Velvet Goldmine-ish AU fic that I want to get done this summer. I'm a very slow and ruminative writer so let's see if I can commit to any of these fics now that I've posted about them lol!
No pressure tags! I have no idea who's been tagged recently so-- lol. @hardly-an-escape @valeriianz @moorishflower @amielot :)
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lovelyo · 3 days
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Live in Reality: You Would Not Want a Friend Like Penelope
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I can’t with people talking bout Cressida is meaner than Penelope or that Cressida is a bully and Eloise is a bad person for befriending Cressida. The difference is Cressida is upfront with her mean girl attitude. She isn’t two-faced and would let you know upfront that she doesn’t fuck with you, totally opposite from Penelope who would write the muddiest of shit about you behind your back and feel absolutely no remorse, while on top of that gaslighting into believing she’s the victim.
Unless you’re a masochist, who would want a friend who smiles in your face but has secretly been resenting you and your family for years, has been tricking and lying to you for years; the friend has been disrespecting your family behind your back, gaslights you, is jealous of you every waking moment, always singing the same “woe is me, life is unfair” song to you but accuses you of being a bad friend, throws you under the bus to save their own neck and tries to manipulate it as they were trying to “help” or “save” you.
Anyone with a well-adjusted mind who has a friend or who sees a love one have a friend such as that will immediately take the action of cutting them off, despite any history, despite the memories, we would clearly think that a friend as toxic as that is not a good friend or rather a good person to be around.
So why does the individual who has been dealt with such a friend has to apologize or accept the toxic’s friend past and current bullshit. Does it make sense that that individual who has been treated like that by the toxic friend apologize to the toxic friend?
That’s y’all’ logic when it comes to Eloise and Penelope.
When you holler your chewbacca war cry in defense of Penelope, you are rooting for that toxic friend I have explained earlier knowing damn well that if someone like that was in your life or in the life of someone you deeply care for, you would NOT be associating with them or advise others not to.
But Eloise mustn’t be upset and must accept Pen’s hollow apology despite all the things that she has objectively done because…🤷🏾‍♂️ we’re not allowed to be mad at the plus size character cause she’s plus size, that’s the reason people are mainly giving me.
Who cares about size? A toxic person is A TOXIC PERSON: short, tall, small, curvy, a person’s character isn’t defined or should be given a free pass because of their appearance. That’s what you guys are doing with Penelope and it’s insane dawg 😭.
P.S. Given from the spoilers, Pen apologizes to Eloise about the betrayal and being LW but goes back to the same schtick, talking shit bout her brother so ask yourself how genuine she really was
P.S.S Even Colin thinks what LW did was wicked and unnecessary, especially since in season 2 he said if Marina had told him bout the pregnancy, he would’ve still went with the marriage. Plus his sister got dunked on….but hooray for Penelope getting a HEA and being a part of a family she disparages.
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orange-demons · 3 days
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Let's get some more CC Bosch content on the streets 💙
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CC Bosch! CC Bosch! CC Bosch! Every time I think of CC Bosch it's always sad. also had to take some creative liberties when writing this so please don't judge too hard.
After JP muddied the Resistance's image, they've been getting a lot of criticism from the people of Nayshall and even more around the world. A country of criminals, he said. How pitiful, a place rich in people and culture reduced to nothing but a place for illegal gambling and money laundering.
And a Resistance born out of forced modernization, with NGOs sucking Nayshall dry of all their resources for their own benefit.
Many shared their sentiment of not wanting these big companies taking over, but Kalima had to make sure JP and Amnesia weren't snooping around to pry more information out of them, so they had to be careful.
Because of that, she knew every single person that came in and out of the caves of Mt. Vashal. It wasn't until she came across an all-too-familiar face in the crowd. His wide green eyes peered up at her as she led another group to protest in front of the business district.
He popped up a few times after their initial encounter and even managed to sneak his way into their meetings. And every time, Kalima told him to go home, that this wasn't something for kids to be playing around by.
But he was in awe of her and the way she spoke about their independence. To be free from the clutches of big corporations trying to use Nayshall as a cover for their nefarious schemes.
Time and time again he came back to show his loyalty, not only for Kalima, but for the Resistance.
"Then how far are you willing to go, Bosch?"
Kalima listened to the trickling water and winds that passed through the cave systems. She stayed in a meditative state as she kneeled in front of the altar. A variety of fruits were placed in a basket on the steps and candles were lit in honor to signify the memory of Nayshall's founding fathers.
She didn't need to look behind her to know who was dragging their feet along the floors with metal chains clanking against each other.
He's battered and broken, but his mental state is the true liability if he is left unchecked.
Monsters. All of them.
JP is the foundation of the cruelty the world will experience.
Not the boogie-man that lived in the closet. Or the shadow you saw in the corner of the room. But a real breathing monster is worming his way into Nayshall this very second. And he will stop at nothing until this country is a shell of what it used to be.
And to bring in a kid, who's barely able to contain himself, to be used as a spectacle to garner views is the lowest form of depravity.
JP is the root of all evil.
"You just missed it. Your friend gave Rewancha a run for his money after they found out about the Championship belt." Kalima said rising to her feet, dusting the particles of dirt that managed to stick to her clothes.
"A real piece of work, if you ask me." She glanced at Bosch, taking in his appearance once more. He has moments when he's more primal in nature, with a hunched back and heavy breathing. Her eyes shot down to his pants, which were splattered with god knows what. Scars littered his body with a purple tinge seeping from the open wounds. And the chains held firm against his wrists, rattling at the slightest movement.
But the most obvious feature about him was the box on his head. A crude way to conceal his identity that Bosch picked up in Metro City.
"Are you going to wear that thing all day?" she said, motioning to it.
He hesitantly reached up to remove his headwear, giving Kalima a view of his face. The bags under his eyes served as a reminder of restless nights and the constant mental load weighing on him.
"Got anything to say?" she said, crossing her arms across her chest.
He remained quiet for the most part, despite his huffing and puffing.
"I...wanted them to know about the Resistance, if something happened to me. To know what I- ... what we've been fighting for. That's why I gave them the Data card." he replied through the throbbing sensation in his head, hoping Kalima would see his side.
"And now, look where it got us." She aimlessly gestured to the space around them. "We have someone with no business with the Resistance snooping around JP's faction. Do you have any idea the position it can put us in, especially the day before the tournament?"
"I know, I'm responsible for everything they've done leading up to this." Bosch said gruffly. Telling you was a gamble on his part, but he couldn't have that card on him for their enemy to use against the group, so he needed to get rid of it.
Well, that and for personal reasons that Kalima wouldn't want to hear.
"Then I hope you know what you're doing by dragging them into our affairs. In Nayshall's affairs."
"Right..." he muttered, holding his tongue.
He claimed he wanted to get stronger, not for himself, but for the Resistance. And he could only find true strength outside of here.
Kalima did take into consideration the bonds he would eventually form with the people of Metro City, but, there was one person Bosch was close to during his stay according to her contacts.
And that's when he became a liability. Not when he fell in the enemy's clutches, or when Bosch escaped with his modified body. It was when he met you.
You're making Bosch second-guess himself and the motives rooted in their core beliefs.
He's even gone so far as to go against her orders to not return to Metro City, when collecting the raw materials for their next big plan.
He said he had unfinished business he needed to attend to, before forcing his way on the next flight. Kalima knew Bosch was going to find a way to see you again one way or another, but now the Resistance is treading on dangerous territory. And they can't afford any more outside casualties to their already hostile image.
"So what now? Are you going to stop them? You know they're trying to deactivate the belt as we speak."
"Do you think they'll get far?" Bosch's brows furrowed, trying to focus his attention on the tunnel you entered. The whirlwind of energy coursing through his veins was making it hard to focus on small things now.
"Best case scenario, Your friend gets stopped by security before they even have a chance to reach the belt." Kalima shrugged.
"And worse?" his grip tightened on the box, crumbling its edges.
"You better hope they get stopped by security." Nothing escaped her scrutiny, especially when he referred to you in a way that had underlying connotations. So that's what this was, puppy love.
"Look, I don't care what you two had before all this." she sighed in frustration. "But you better tie up all of your loose ends by the start of the Suval'hal tournament. Because I won't let the Resistance falter because you decided to bring an outsider into our fight." Kalima said, giving him one last look before leaving with the rest of the group.
When the space was void of people, Bosch sat in his thoughts, gritting his teeth at what was to come.
But all he could do was stare at the statue of Nayshall's first founding father for guidance, as the burning sensation of his skin resurfaced once more.
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evilkitten3 · 5 months
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i know almost nothing about naruto but i love that orochimaru is the most genderfucked out of any fictional character ive ever heard of. what an icon tbh
orochimaru has committed unthinkable atrocities but i simply do not care. in fact i think she should have done some more
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a-s-levynn · 5 months
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"Even if the sky cracks in mourning / And the heavens just won't open up for me" A Series of Small Offerings - II/12 - day20
#a series of small offerings#sleep token fanart#elaboration on this piece further down in the tags because this one may confuse people i think#(also please note that i firmly believe that the from the room below version of this song is the superior one)#(so the art was made with that version in mind because that is the version that lives rent free in my brain for reasons)#i've been thinking so much how to approach this one.. i knew pretty much since i've made the challenge that i will go with this line#specifically because i refuse to hear it as the lyrics sites and spotify tells me to hear it (as it appears in the post) but instead#i don't hear the 'the' in any version of the song i'm sorry that is just not there#so i'm convinced it is 'as the sky cracks in mourning'#(sky cracking-lightning;sky mourning-rain)#which is also exactly how the song feels to me#being a sad wet cat of a person standing bare feet in a strom and just crying 'why i was i so blind to my own hubris'#specifically in relation of finally (and far too late) understanding you fucked up a relationship so bad it still hurts years after#if you've ever felt anything remotely similar you know what i'm talking about#and you get why i refuse it being 'in the morning' instead of 'in mourning'#vessel i#vessel#vessel sleep token#vessel fanart#sleep token band#sleeptoken#levynn tries to draw#sleep token#edit: i don't mean to offend those who stand behind the line being 'in the morning' btw i just don't hear it#and i don't think i'm correct. i'm correct for me. not in your stead. half the lyrics can be heard at least two ways#edit2: appearently i'm actually right about something for a change.. a truly unusual turn of events#see comments for referrence pls#also edited this post to the correct lyrics#but leaving the tags for context 'cause thw original version of the post has been rb-d before editing i think
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shitbrainratface · 10 months
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Srry i am very chatty today but i noticed the pipeline of
I want to die -> I want to be someone else -> I want to be me with a different life -> I want the plans I've made in my life to be easier to fulfill and that I could be more sure that I even can fulfill them
to be such a huge improvement and I'm proud
/ok to rb
#i find it funny when i talk about the state i am in and ppl seem so sad#like oh you cant drive oh you cant live on your own oh you need a caregiver... i wish you a good recovery#bitch i am recovered! just because my best point is worse than your lowest point doesnt mean i havent made huge steps#or like i talk about my insecurities#and theyre like well i hope you feel better about yourself#nonono its a good thing! because I get up and I look in the mirror and I feel negative emotion and thats it#i dont insult myself i dont feel dread or suicidal about it anymore#i just feel bad! and that bad feeling doesnt even last the rest of the day - I can forget about it easily now!#like ik ''i dislike how i look'' is sad for a lot of people but like... its such an improvement from ''if i look in a mirror i suddenly#develope delusions that my appearance is causing my girlfriend to cheat on me and that everyone wants me dead''#its honestly like... i was talking with a trans woman who was thinking of coming out and transitioning#and she was like ''but im scared that i wont like the way i look#and everyone says i will but what if i dont''#and i told her ''you have no idea how freeing it is to look in the mirror & dislike the way you look & still be happy and proud of your#physical changes''#''imagine seeing yourself and instead of wanting to cry and scream and kill someone you go 'eh could be better' and then feel fine the rest#of the day''#and the best part: I fully accept that there are other people who can find me attractive now#if i take a nude and i think it sucks then I send it anyways bc hey they see something in me that i cant and thats wonderful#and she said it really helped her bc that reality seemed so much more attainable than sudden radical self love#and maybe some day i will love myyself and love my appearance but even just where I am right now I think its pretty good#just.... i can not stress how freeing it is to be okay with yourself after a life time of thinking my appearance was the end of the world#im not going to lie - i am still incredibly jealous of hot ppl especially hot ppl who get a lot of compliments#but atleast being around hot people doesnt trigger me into a defensive scared mess anymore
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xenovair · 1 year
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-ˋˏ*・★。 @batagonist​​ said :   💏   (   37.  ... without a motive   )
-ˋˏ*・★。50 WAYS TO KISS SOMEONE → ACCEPTING !
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              THERE WAS SOMETHING TO BE SAID ABOUT THE NIGHT SKY ,     the way it managed to simplify everything ,   to quiet a mind as turbulent as her own .   Perhaps it was the nostalgia of gazing upon the stars in a different galaxy or the serenity that comes from being so high above the calamity down below ,   not alone but company so welcome she feels just as settled as she would be if in solidarity .     SO SHE WOULD GIVE INTO HER WHIMS FAR EASIER ,     the one usually so violently opposed would extend calmly lit hand until fingertips can ghost gently upon his jawline ,  coaxing him toward her just enough for lips to be pressed to the corner of his ,  lingering a moment or two until they curl into a simple smile .
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               NO REASON IS GIVEN AS NO REASON IS PRESENT ,     she couldn’t give him a reason even if he asked ,  not without thinking beyond the affection itself ,   a level of introspection that she is fundamentally opposed to .
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mosquitinho · 2 years
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simwithshan · 5 months
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AM & PM Traditions
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"AM & PM Traditions" are personalized habits your sims can use in their calendar to create their own morning and night routine so they can craft their own daily rituals.
Start your day off right with choices ranging from a refreshing morning shower, bathes, brushing their teeth and even shaving to some much-needed skincare. Don't forget a calming cup of coffee or tea after. Have work in the morning, I made sure to add a Pack Sack Lunch into the choices in their routine as well.
However, my favorite part of these traditions has to the be Words of Affirmations choice and journaling. I love having my sims indulge into some needed selfcare and couldn't hesitate not to add these features!
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Everything Included
Bathe: Great for hygiene and starting the day fresh. It adds a realistic touch to your Sims morning rituals. All Types of bathing from traditional to using the petals, soaps etc.
Brush Teeth: Dental hygiene is crucial! It's good that you've included this routine to ensure your Sims maintain healthy teeth. You can complete this buy brushing your sims teeth by clicking on the sink.
Coffee and Tea: A perfect way to kickstart the morning or wind down in the evening. It adds a touch of realism and comfort to your Sims' lives. Brew and drink coffee or tea to complete this.
Journaling: A wonderful addition for Sims to reflect on their day or express their thoughts. It's a great way to incorporate self-care and mindfulness. Make sure to use the sims private journal to complete this.
Apply Makeup: For Sims who enjoy enhancing their appearance, this routine adds a touch of personal grooming. You can only do this at the vanity!
Remove Makeup: A thoughtful inclusion for Sims who prefer to go makeup-free or need to prepare for bedtime. You can only do this at the vanity!
Pack Lunch: Ideal for Sims with a busy day ahead. It's a practical addition for those who want to bring their own meals to work or school. Make sure you pack a sack lunch to complete this.
Shave: A grooming routine for Sims who prefer to keep a clean-shaven look. It adds realism to their daily preparations. This includes all body shaving areas, not just your face!
Shower: An essential part of maintaining hygiene. This routine ensures your Sims stay clean and refreshed. Just do your usual showering!
Skincare: A great way to incorporate self-care into your Sims' daily lives. It's perfect for those who prioritize skincare. I love this one, make sure you use a face mask or the cleanser to complete this.
Words of Affirmation: A fantastic addition for promoting positive mental health. It adds a meaningful and uplifting touch to your Sims' routines. Psyche self-up in a standing mirror to complete this. You do not do this one at the vanity.
Want more Traditions to add to your routine? I have so many!
Workout Traditions or Me Time Traditions
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shiny-jr · 12 days
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I’ve just had a vision, what if a yan (e.g riddle or vil because they are most princess-ish) was a trapped in a castle away like in one of those stereotypical fairy tales and the reader decides to save them because they are a ‘damsel in distress’ and reader is like a hero… only to realise there is a reason why they were locked away (because they were batshit crazy)
Warning: Yandere. Gender-neutral reader.
Characters: Vil Schoenheit.
Summary: You are a thief with freshly stolen goods. Chased and hunted down, you avoid capture by finding a castle hidden in gloom and fog. Locals told legends of this place, saying a royal had been trapped within. Of course, you don't quite believe such tall tales. That is, until you discover the royal and learned that they were purposefully sealed inside...
Note: I think I'll call this one, not your valiant savior. It's just a placeholder name for now. Just a quick post, so sorry if it's bad.
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It was too easy. What did they expect when they left out a priceless object owned by the royal family and estimated to be worth a fortune? Of course a famed thief on the loose such as yourself, would just be itching to snatch the relic. And snatch you did, living up to your reputation of thief. Each member having unique abilities to assist in stealing. Your mother had speed to outrun anyone in a chase, your grandfather had the talent of picking any locks, your great-grandmother could sweet-talk anyone then rob them blind. And so on and so forth.
And of course, you had your own talent. As quiet as a mouse and with fingers that stuck to valuables like glue, stealing became like second nature. Literally. However, it wasn't exactly a talent valued by the wider community, and if you stole enough you could end up on terribly drawn wanted posters. Which is why staying in one place wasn't wise.
From place to place, you went taking and claiming anything of worth. When you got very low on cash, you set your sights high: on the vault that stored the royal's priceless treasures. There was bound to be endless riches stored within, if only you could get your grubby hands on them. Well, after careful planning, you had. It wasn't a giant gem or sack full of gold.
Time was short, so you had grabbed the closest thing you could before guards could find you. A golden box encrusted with jewels. Who knew what was inside? Maybe some family heirloom, a magical artifact, or something else of high value. And with the box, you bolted, and the chase had begun out of the city and through the woods.
As fast as you could, you ran through the mystic woods, a forrest travelers and locals alike were all wary of. It was the safest place you could go when chased by frightening palace guards on horseback that would do anything to take back what you stole and drag you back to the gallows. Even the woods heavy with fog and dark from the clouds overhead, had deterred your pursuers enough for you to slip out of their reach and deeper into the forrest where there was no way they would be able to track you. Here, you would have to wait until tomorrow and depart early. Then, you'd be home free and rich beyond your wildest dreams.
After what felt like hours of walking, you stumbled upon a bridge over a gloomy lake. In the middle, sat an old castle of gray stone and dark windows. A castle once said to hold a royal captive, but of course, you didn't believe such stories that were so old they were told to your own grandparents. This castle would be your sanctuary for the night. And maybe, just maybe, you'd clutch the jeweled box and dream of simpler times when you were told fairytales of locked away royals waiting for a savior.
The castle was exactly like those set in spooky tales, haunted by vengeful spirits and claimed by ghosts. It appeared abandoned, that much was obvious by the crumbling stone bridge and the battered old wooden doors that once protected the inhabitants.
Cautiously stepping over the splintered debris of the front door, you didn’t bother boarding it up since no one would be stupid enough to follow you inside.
There was wreckage and ruin everywhere. If you had to guess, whatever happened here, whether the people were driven away by conflict or time, it was followed by the destruction of time. Time with weather were likely all factors that led to the disarray of what was probably once a grand estate. Strangely enough, there was furniture and decor. Everything coated in dust and grime, but still here. Had people been too afraid to enter the grounds? There were so many valuables that could've been looted!
"I'll definitely have to come back here later." You scoff, turning over a few clothes or broken furniture with your foot to uncover possible hidden goodies. Maybe something as small but valuable as a ring was lost somewhere on the ground.
Proceeding to carry the golden box under your arm, you decide to search for the cleaniest, not-so-moldy room where you could spend the night. On the third floor halls, you see ripped curtains and frames where portraits loosely hung. Every rug was brown with dirt and dust.
There were items left behind, which showcased the life one led here. A piano too big to steal, the skeleton of a chandelier and broken gems hanging from its limbs, empty glass perfume bottles now filled with dust. The place must've been wondrous once, but now it was like a tomb. A setting frozen in time.
When you found moonlight filtering through the open balcony of what looked to be the master bedroom, you paused to see the space wrecked more than the others. As if more than just weather and time had affected this place. The owner of this castle likely slept in this very room, on that very bed where the sheets were ruffled and unkempt.
"I wonder who used to live here..." You murmur to no one in particular, as you approach the balcony looking over the bridge and woods. This would be a good vantage point.
A heavy fog settled over the woods, extending over the bridge like water. Good, an extra layer for cover. You stepped back into the room, analyzing every carved piece of wooden furniture, makeup and brushes stored on tabletops, a separate room as long as a hallway and filled with all types of articles of clothing.
If all this was still here, then was it possible some jewelry was left behind? You scoured the room, looking for hidden compartments while murmuring to yourself to fill the ominous silence. As you pulled back a curtain against a wall, you furrowed your eyebrows when you saw an uneven lump underneath the wallpaper.
Could this be handle leading to a vault of treasures? With that in mind, you ripped off the old wallpaper. A glimmer of gold made your heart soar with hope, but when you caught sight of your reflection, you stopped and stared. A mirror. It was a large mirror, oval shaped, with golden borders so intricately decorated. However, when a hand suddenly appeared on the other side of the mirror, like a ghostly apparition, you screamed and stumbled back.
A hand– there was a hand in the mirror! You stared with widened eyes full of shock, as the hand pressed its palm against the surface of the glass. You couldn't see anything else, no one behind the hand. After a second, the slim pale hand delicately pointed a long dainty finger at the box you were holding in a vice grip.
"What...? This? You want this? But..."
You had worked hard to procure this golden box from the royals. Pursing your lips, you contemplated your options, with so many questions running rampant in your mind. What was that thing? A magic mirror? A magic mirror would be priceless, much more valuable than any gold. However, if it was magic, it would be tricky. Possibly even sentient. So you'd have to gain its favor.
"Alright, alright, the box. You know, I went through hell trying to get this."
You informed the mirror, unsure if it even understood you. You carefully set down the heavy box in front of the mirror, and watch as the hand made a motion with its fingers.
Click!
It had unlocked the box, without even a key or tool. A grin broke out on your face. Had it done it for you? Apparently not, because the box opened on its own and a heavy thick tome floated out from it and into the air. The hand beckoned the tome closer, and closer it came, until it was literally phasing through the glass.
"Hey! Wait––"
The glass shattered, the sound booming and ringing out in the silence like an explosion. You only had a second to react, instinctually using your arms to shield your face from the glass flying out in every direction. When it stopped, you looked around. The mattress was shredded, the curtains torn to shreds, wooden furniture cut as if done by an axe, but miraculously you were somehow unharmed.
A breath, not of your own, caught your attention. Your eyes darted over to the now broken mirror, awestruck at the vision of a figure stepping over broken glass. They were beautiful, gorgeous, stunning, more than any words could convey. Their hair like gold and eyes an alluring shade of purple like two amethyst stones, soft pink lips, and a tall slim pale figure clothed in odd robes. For a moment, whoever this person was, appeared disoriented for a brief moment, but they clutched the tome like a lifeline. The tome that came from the box you had stolen.
"Thank you––"
He breathed, his voice quiet as he attempted to stand tall and upright. When his legs nearly gave out beneath him, you were there to catch his hand and prevent him from falling as he looked at you with appreciation. You were just stunned, bewildered, in pure disbelief.
"You... You freed me. You returned my stolen tome...!"
He exclaimed in disbelief, as he restored his posture. Somehow, he was able to stand in heels, but heels were currently one of the least important details.
What did he mean freed?
There was no time to ask any questions. The loud sound of the shattering must've alerted any of your pursuers that had followed you thus far, because from the balcony you could make out the torchlights weaving their way directly towards the bridge.
The mysterious man from the mirror took notice of your expression of dismay as he glanced at the distant torchlights. Smoothing out his robes, he looked back at you and took in your expression. "Enemies of yours?"
"Yes..." You nod slowly.
"Now that just won't do. I can't have anyone harming, or even killing my savior. I've yet to even learn your name." Tapping some well-manicured fingers against the spine of the tome, he appeared to contemplate something. When he stopped tapping his fingers, he smiled so sweetly. "I am Vil Schoenheit, prince and prodigy. Here's my proposition to you, my savior: I will destroy your enemies for a small price. You must tell me your name, and I will grant you my protection."
Of course you gave him your name, and almost immediately you saw the fog below turn an odd color. The torchlights flickered out, you no longer heard their encouraged shouts to move forward but instead their screams echoing in the dark woods. All after Vil murmured a few words in a foreign tongue read from his tome, as he continued to gaze at your intently. What exactly was he to cause so much death in a single instant with hardly any effort...? And you were stuck in this abandoned castle with him.
The prince had no plans to abandon you, he's made that much clear when you attempted to casually part ways after thanking him for getting rid of your pursuers. Stay. I can make it worth your while. Once I reach my former glory, you'll be able to bask in it with me. Is what he said as you swore you heard the front of the castle be sealed shut.
The entire time he looked around the castle with disdain, cross as he complained about the state of his home. While helping him clean up some rooms, he told you more about himself. Vil was a prince who once lived in this castle, set to inherent the throne shortly after the death of his father. However, he was widely feared due to being a prodigy in dark magics and genius at brewing concoctions. For attempting to steal the life of a younger kinder foreign prince who specialized in good magic, he was trapped in a mirror with his tome being the only key to grant him freedom.
Vil actually appeared to be much too fond of you, which you attributed to his isolation. If you were imprisoned all alone in a mirror for centuries, you likely would've gone insane. It was a miracle Vil's mind was intact, but maybe he wasn't there entirely. Because what sane person killed people with the snap of their fingers while smiling so kindly at the one who set him free?
Pridefully he listed off his feats and accomplishments. Living prodigy. Most beautiful man in the land. Prince of the land. It felt too much like flaunting, as he wanted you to realize how truly great he was. He replaced your clothes with his own, and while combing your hair he reminded you that what's rightfully his will be returned to him one day, and you would be there beside him that day.
The crown was what he wanted, a crown he believed was stolen from him and passed down to the descendants of the very good prince he attempted to kill. He spoke of a future in the castle restored to its former glory, where citizens would be loyal to him once again, and those that wronged him will receive a fate worse than death. Positions were open for applying once he became king, he told you one day. He was still searching for a vassal, a knight, a jester, or a partner to wear a crown as well.
Was it the isolation that had driven him to become so attached to the one who set him free? It was possible, but you couldn't even be sure. For all you knew, he could've been like this before he became trapped in the mirror. What mattered now was that he did not make any effort to hide his attraction towards you. Vil was offering a thief all the riches he would attain after his plan for vengeance, and his heart in a golden box.
"Keep the knives I gifted you, although I doubt you'll have to resort to lifting a finger. Just allow me to handle it when the time comes. I want to extract vengeance slowly and painfully, make them hurt just as they did to me... And at the end of the day, you will be there, you little thief who stole my affections, to comfort me and drive away those memories of cold lonely centuries in darkness. You'll be there for me, won't you, my valiant savior?"
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luminiamore · 26 days
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biker geto suguru x black hoochie mama reader
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warnings: fingerfucking, soft dom sugu, he’s a tease, sugu has a big dick, but we knew this!
a/n: this man is so fine i need him neow.
masterlist
Life has always treated you so well, beyond well, in fact. You resided in one of Atlanta’s finest lofts, debt-free at 23 despite recently graduating from college. Even though you have your own income, your generous parents still send you a fat check every week or so. You had men constantly begging on their knees to fund your entire existence, and on the occasion, women, too. Everything you wanted simply came to you with no trouble. 
You wanted that cute brown skin man with the waves that you saw at the grocery store? He already has your number. You want that pretty ’90s hairstyle you saw in a vintage magazine? You were already on your way to go get it done. You want to change your dramatic nails, even though you just got them done two days ago, because you found another style you want more? Who can deny you? It’s your world. 
Was it manifestation? Who knows. The one thing you do know is that the world hands you everything on a pure gold platter.
Popularity followed you whenever you went, but who could blame you? You were the epitome of everything sexy. From the way your rose-colored wedges beautifully complement your flawless white toes against your dark skin to how your denim mini skirts hug your curves and accentuate your figure, and your tops, or mainly bikini tops, enhance your boobs so well that they could make a grown man cry. 
Had you been an adult woman in the 90s instead of being a high-maintenance child, you might have been a star, perhaps even one of the most iconic video vixens. However, that title belongs to your momma. The OG.
She was the sought-after beauty every top rapper wanted for their music videos. From Snoop Dogg to 50 Cent, Lil Wayne to Jay Z, Biggie - she lit up screens. She even brought fire to the feud between Tupac and Biggie when she appeared in the latter’s video. You’re almost sure that lady even told you about how Pac was nearly your father before she met your dad. And you, like the little minx you were, lived up to her status.
Now, you weren’t in those modern-day rap videos of the pretty big booty woman shaking their ass on camera. Your momma raised you to have more class than that. She taught you that your ass isn’t the biggest asset you have to offer, figuratively. Your face is, the way you make people feel is, the way you seduce people is. 
That resulted in you appearing in a few music videos where the artist expressed love for someone, as those typically featured the camera focused on one girl. And that girl was you. Those got you the recognition your momma had. Those got men practically lining up to pay all your bills, those got plentiful women dying to either be you or be with you.
Your reputation preceded you; you were exceptional, operating on a different level altogether. Your complexion was flawless, your lips rich and full, and your eyes possessed a captivating allure that could weaken anyone with just one glance. You were taught to always go after the best because you are the best. 
So, what the hell was your ass doing walking around in Oakland City? Wearing your ripped undercut booty shorts, which showed more booty than shorts, along with a vintage Dior top you borrowed stole from your momma, complete with a matching purse.
Your flower sandals from Dolce & Gabbana made such a powerful tapping sound, combined with the multiple pieces of gold adorning your wrists, ears, and neck, that everyone you passed couldn’t help but look to see just who it was, and they were definitely not disappointed.
You’re not stupid. You wouldn’t dream of entering one of the most dangerous areas of your hometown without protection. Your bedazzled gold pepper spray and your fully loaded Beretta Nano 9mm pistol in your purse, itching to be used if someone tries you.
They wouldn’t dare, though. Your momma wasn’t the only legendary figure in your family. Your dad ran one of the leading crime families in all of Atlanta, dealing with heavy drugs, counterfeiting, and smuggling illegal things across borders. He was feared just as equally as he was respected. 
Messing with you? Your pops would send their family a well-decorated package with their son on a shirt. The last man that cheated on you was a prime example. You couldn’t feel bad for him, though, you did warn him.
To answer your earlier inquiry, which has been nagging at you since you parked your Toyota GR Supra Coupe at a motel five blocks away from the neighborhood, you were there to buy drugs. Weed, more specifically. You could have asked your father, but you really weren’t up for hearing his opinion on how he believes you smoke too much. So you go to the next best thing, Satoru Gojo. 
Since your dad was focused on dealing with harder drugs, he didn’t bother with substances like shrooms or anything related to weed. He considered himself too old for that and delegated the task to his second in command and your friend since birth, Satoru. You quicken your pace, heels tapping rapidly as you approach one of his many houses. You’re almost there. 
He has some of the best shit in the A, but whenever you ask him how he does it,
“I just sell it, Sis. My best friend does all the hard stuff,” 
You would always roll your pretty eyes at this because this supposed best friend he always bragged about was never around. At first, you believed he fibbed about having a best friend out of embarrassment, suspecting that you were the only one who could tolerate his antics.
But you saw glimpses, small ones. A fine leather jacket hanging off his dining room chair that you know Satoru wouldn’t wear. A motorcycle helmet standing tall on the side of his kitchen counter. Your suspicions proved unfounded as your gaze shifted to a sleek, blacked-out MTT 420 Turbine Superbike as you approached Toru’s driveway. 
You know damn well that can’t belong to Satoru. Your movements stop once you knock harshly on the door. You catch the faint sound of a random trap song playing through it. You can’t help but smile, amused by how predictably cliché this white-haired man-child can be. Trap music at a trap house.
Your smile fades as you’re met with a cold glare from a short, thick, light-skinned girl wearing a blonde wig. Studying her features further, you can’t help but acknowledge her prettiness. But the minute she opened her mouth, you were annoyed.
“And, who the fuck you is?” She snaps loudly, the gum she’s chewing matching her obnoxiousness. She’s too pretty for this.
“Girl, bye.” You push past her, causing her to stumble slightly, as you march into the house. Maybe she was about to say something, but you didn’t stick around to find out. With your back turned to her, you catch Satoru muttering softly and glancing past you, “Don’t even try it.” 
She sucks her teeth in annoyance, slamming the door behind her as she heads back to the couch where Satoru, another man, and three other girls are seated. Wait- another man? 
You glance back at the couch again, only to steady your hands on the wall you were leaning on. Woah. This man was so fine that he almost made your legs give out on you. The fuck?
His face was so pretty. Sharp black eyes and the longest hair you’ve ever seen on a man. The wife beater he wore clung tightly to his perfect skin, so much so that you could make out that he had nipple piercings. Woah. The tattoos trailing up both of his muscular arms had you ready to remind yourself to just fucking breathe. He sported washed black Chrome Heart jeans, and the pretty cross peeking from his waistband gave it away. 
This man was looking at you, more like undressing you with his eyes. And you couldn’t look away.
“You can’t be knocking on my door like that Sis, I almost thought you were the feds.” Satoru hums, though he really wasn’t worried. He knew the feds couldn’t hold him for long; he had too much money for that. You quickly glance at him and roll your eyes. When you shift your gaze away from Toru, you turn back to the man who has yet to introduce himself to you.
As if he could read your mind, he rises from his seat, his towering height catching you off guard, and he saunters almost sensually towards where you’re standing in the kitchen. The minute he stands in front of you,
“Suguru Geto. You’re beautiful if you don’t mind me saying,” He brings a hand out to shake yours, his eyes never shifting from your brown ones. You glance down for a moment, and you swear you can feel your heartbeat in your pussy when you catch sight of his immaculately clean, clear polished nails, his fingers adorned with silver rings. Lord, help you.
You give him a smile when you register his compliment, “Y/n. You’re the infamous best friend I hear so much about but never see?” You raise a brow.
Suguru swears he’s died and went to heaven when he hears your honey voice. He thinks he’s met the prettiest girl he’s laid eyes on. The gold grill you have of what he remembers is the Scorpio sign confirms it. I mean, just look at you, your outfit, your jewelry, and your face. 
Suguru believes he knows himself. He knows he doesn���t like girls that do “too much,” but you make it look so good. He knows he doesn’t even have a fetish for feet. But if you told him to right now, he would drop down immediately and worship yours. He believed a goddess was walking among him when you walked through the door. 
“That’s me, the idiot doesn’t have anyone else,” He mutters. You let out the cutest laugh at his comment that makes his dick harden in his jeans. Lord, help him.
Satoru lets out a dramatic gasp behind the two of you, “Hey! I have Y/n!” You immediately retort at him, raising a finger at him. 
“Aht! No, you don’t,” You chuckle, snickering and rolling your eyes as you catch him placing a hand on his heart as if you’ve just shot him.
“Stop hogging my best friend and come get what you came for, Sis,” He waves a bag in the air, holding at least 20 grams of weed, ignoring the two girls tugging on both of his arms.
You squeal and sprint as fast as your heels allow towards where he’s seated. Suguru follows after you slowly, feeling ashamed at the way the other two girls cling to him the moment he sits down. He wants nothing to do with them, he feels almost disgusted by their presence now that you’re here. He didn’t even realize they were here when he arrived, he was only here for Satoru.
You snatch the bag from him, slip it into your purse, and then lunge toward him for a hug, knowing he’d never let you pay, of course.
“Thank you, Toru!” Naturally, he wastes no time pushing the two girls aside to embrace you. You’ve always been his top priority. Suguru finds it challenging to look away because as you hug his best friend, your curvaceous behind is directly in his line of sight. He wishes you would hug him like that.
When you straighten, “I gotta go. You guys seem busy anyway,” You quickly utter and glance at Suguru. He seemed like he was about to say something, but you interject before he can. 
“It was nice meeting you, Suguru.” You softly tell him. He might’ve just came in his pants with the way you said his name in that tone. He pauses for a moment, but before he can utter a word, you’ve already dashed out the front door.
He stills, and he turns to his lifelong best friend,
“Give me her number.”
⋆。゚☁︎。⋆。 ゚☾ ゚。⋆
It’s been about two hours since you arrived at your loft. You prepared yourself a nice dinner, a well-made Alfredo, before making your way to your room. You sink into the comfort of your silk sheets, retrieving your ashtray and preparing to roll up. Soft Erykah Badu playing from your Alexa Speaker. You’re interrupted by an unknown number dinging on your phone. 
Who’s this?
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You smile immediately, feeling a rush of nerves as you realize he asked Satoru for your number. You're accustomed to getting what you want, and right now, you want him. You eagerly await his text, noticing that he's typing.
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You observe his directness. Suguru is texting you as if he knows exactly what he wants, and if there's one thing you admire in a man, it's when he's decisive and goes after what he wants.
You've already decided to smoke with him, swiftly swapping your shorts for a black Juicy Tracksuit as it got windy. You opt to play a little hard to get.
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Your jaw drops at the amount he sent you for an Uber. Is he crazy? While you’ve had people send you rides to go somewhere, you can’t shake the feeling that he just wanted an excuse to send you money. You’re still reeling from the shock when he immediately sends you the address to his place afterward. You grab two rolled-up blunts and slide on a pair of kitten heels. Snatching your keys, you head out when your Uber driver arrives outside.
The drive to his place is surprisingly short, almost too short. Considering how spread out the area is, you’ve only been in the car for 15 minutes, yet you’re still in the same neighborhood. You brush it off and approach his door. As you knock, you notice Suguru’s driveway filled with three vehicles: the motorcycle you saw earlier, a Mercedes E-Class, and a sleek BMW M3. You can’t help but appreciate yet another reason you’re drawn to him.
He opens the door, and you swear you wish you could pounce on him. He’s still wearing the wife beater, and when you glance up at his face, you notice his eyes are low and red. With his hair tied up in a man bun, a few strands cascading over his face, the only thought running through your mind is... He’s so pretty.
“You started getting lit without me?” You feign surprise as he welcomes you inside. He kindly takes your keys and hangs them on the holder by his door. You could feel him staring at your ass as you move to stand beside him.
He chuckles, shaking his head at you. He reaches a hand out. “You know how Satoru is. My room?” You nod, and he shivers as your long, pretty nails brush against his hand. Was everything about you so alluring?
You follow behind him, noting how he never lets go of your hand. His room, much like his style, is entirely black. Black sheets adorn a king-sized bed, with a few rock band posters hanging above where his dressers are placed. He even has a private bathroom, the door wide open. Damn, this man even has lavender incense burning on the small desk next to his bed.
“Make yourself comfortable, sweetheart,”
Don’t mind if I do. You drop your body on his bed with a plop. You start to take off your right heel, intending to reach for the left one, only to find Suguru already kneeling down, doing it for you. When he’s done, he rubs your feet for about three long seconds before pulling away. You gasp softly, looking away from his intense gaze. Is he usually this forward?
“Uh- I rolled two. I get lip gloss on the blunt,” You sputter out, retrieving them from your purse as he stands up from his position on the floor and settles onto his pillow.
He makes a tsk sound, “Don’t play with me,” He grabs only one from your raised hand and pulls a skull lighter from his jeans pocket. As you place the other one in your purse, you watch him take the first hit. You realize he enjoys eye contact because, throughout all of his movements, his eyes never leave yours.
You’re nervous. For the first time in your life, a man has made you feel nervous. His energy makes you nervous, how he observes you with such intensity makes you nervous, and even how he feeds you the blunt after taking a few hits makes you nervous.
You’re mesmerized. The effects of the blunts hit you swiftly, altering your mind and intensifying your urge to fuck this man till he sees stars.
Suguru himself has never felt this way before. He’s had a few flings here and there and has even been in a relationship or two. But he’s never felt the need to be entirely consumed by someone. The minute he saw you, it felt like time had stopped for him; he could hear how fast his heart was beating. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to give you the universe because the world is far too small for someone like you.
“You have a boyfriend?” His husky voice asks this out of respect for you. Honestly, he couldn’t give a fuck less if you had a man. You’d be his either way.
“Why? You want me?” You giggle, though you knew he did, you just wanted to tease him. As you gaze up at him through the haze, your breath catches when you observe that his eyes have darkened noticeably. You recognize that expression all too well—it mirrors the one you give the camera when it’s focused on you.
He doesn’t respond or even break a smile at your inquiry. No, his eyes are fixated on your plump, glossed lips as you take another hit. You shift your thighs a little, you don’t know how long you can wait before he makes his move.
Suguru notices, and this time, his lips twitch up a bit, “And if I did?” His whisper keeps you quiet. What the hell were you supposed to say to that? Suguru doesn’t mind your silence. He needs you to savor your angelic tune anyway since you’ll scream his name in a few minutes. Rising from his position, he tilts your chin towards him, his eyes catching note of the smoke in your mouth. Drawing his lips dangerously close to yours, he exhales softly,
“Let it go.” You don’t hesitate to listen to his command. It’s as if your mind is his now, the way he doesn’t even do anything to get your attention. As soon as the smoke escapes your lips, he inhales it, pressing his soft lips firmly against yours.
You whimper out at the force and immediately kiss him back. Suguru swears he’s already in love when he feels your lips reciprocate his action, the stickiness of your strawberry gloss making him release a sound that had you squeezing your thighs. He’s relentless, nipping and forcing his tongue to merge with yours.
His fervor with just a kiss leaves you reeling. The combination of the weed and his lips makes you feel intoxicated, causing you to grasp onto the fabric of his jeans to steady yourself. When he pulls away from you, it only makes you crave more.
You’re both breathing heavily, and the sound of Brent Faiyez playing on his speaker is long tuned out. He stares at your eyes briefly before gently pulling you down to lay on your back. You lean up to pull him into another passionate kiss,
“More, please.” You whine out, a little too desperate for your taste. You couldn’t understand why you wanted him so bad, maybe it was the weed, or maybe it was the fact that your pussy was dripping the minute you saw him at Satoru’s place. You can tell he wants to take things slow, but you can’t find it in you to share the same feeling. You need him to do something to you, now.
He only whispers, “Patience, sweetheart.” And moves his lips down to your neck. Soft kisses fill your throat before he stops teasing and reaches for your zipper. He's not shocked to learn that you don't wear a bra; he could almost see your hard nipples through the velvet fabric of your hoodie.
Your sigh of satisfaction comes from the moment he wraps his lips around your dark areola and gently caresses the fat of your unattended boob. He starts slowly, listening to the sounds you make and observing how he can persuade you to moan louder. Your breath gets shaky when he gets more aggressive with his movement, pulling at your sensitive nipples. He decides that he wants more from you.
Suguru rasps out, “I know you want me to fuck you,” Your body feels on fire as his touch slithers down your stomach, grazing your belly ring. He lowers your tracksuit pants for you and throws them across his room, forbidding you to do anything that doesn’t include you receiving pleasure. Your body is anticipating as he continues, “But I need to prep you, or you won’t be able to take me,”
He toys with the slender strap of your thong, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on your face as he talks, “Be good and let me play with you for a bit, okay?”
Your fiery personality is well-known for not letting men dictate your actions. You’re quick to dismiss any nigga, and based on instinct, you’re almost prepared to snap: Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? 
By now, you should realize that Suguru observes every single move you make, every slight gesture you make, when your breath catches, and even now, he detects that you intend to snap at him. He does nothing but give you a look, a dangerous look, which only implies I dare you. Suguru orchestrates a dominance so calm but prominent that you can’t help but whimper out a quiet “Yes,”
What is he doing to you?
He presses a kiss to the side of your mouth as a reward. He’s in a trance. Suguru can’t pull his gaze away from your panties. You’re so wet that it’s clinging onto the fabric as he slowly pulls it away from your lower lips. He finds himself plunging two fingers into your wet cunt before your thong even touches your knees. Fuck, you’re tight.
“Ah- shit! Sugu!” You mewl, walls immediately clenching on his thick fingers. He quickly begins to rub circles on your twitching clit, observing as you gasp and scramble under him. You’re so beautiful like this, he thinks. He doesn’t hesitate to tell you this, too.
“I know, sweetheart. You’re so beautiful, y’know that?” Your slick is dripping all over his palm as he finger fucks you. You try to keep your moans in, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you lose your mind. But you can’t. You can’t do anything but scream out at the way his long fingers are effortlessly punishing your G-spot.
Suguru moves his fingers faster when you don’t answer him, “I asked you a question, baby.” 
Your loud whimpers can be heard over his music. How could you possibly answer? You’re already starting to blank, you’re not sure you even listened to what he said. “I- Oh fuck, Yes!” 
The sounds coming from your fat pussy is downright phonographic. The squishing, the squelching. Shit, it’s even dripping onto his bed, creating a wet stain. Fuck. Suguru doesn’t think he can take another minute without being inside you. He needs it, but he needs to make you cum first. 
He knows you’re about to, with the way your breathing is stuttering and the way there’s a white cream starting to stain his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you. You’re clenching so hard he’s not sure his dick will fit inside of you. He’ll make it fit, he’ll break your little pussy in if he has to.
Suguru leans against you, his desperate panting revealing his longing for you as he whispers in your ear, “I need you to cum for me, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?” He fucks his fingers inside of you harder, rubbing your pretty clit even faster.
You nod eagerly, mind already reeling as you wail, “Y-Yes. I’m gonna cum, Sugu! I- Shitt,” He gently kisses your lips, sliding his tongue into your mouth as if he’s encouraging you to accept it, to just cum all over him. And you do.
Your grip on the bottom of Suguru’s wifebeater hurts your fingers, and you arch your back off the bed while your tight walls clench once more around him. You see white spots in your blacked-out vision, and your squealing is so loud that you worry the neighbors will hear it. He doesn’t stop moving when you cum, wanting to prolong what he knows is the strongest orgasm you’ve ever had. 
When you finally stop twitching in aftershock, your breathing begins to slow down, and his movements follow suit. Your panties are long gone. He swiftly pulls out of you while you’re still in a daze, making you unaware that he’s sucking up your essence from his fingers and pulling his jeans down along with his Calvin Klein briefs.
You are, however, aware when he pushes your thick brown thighs flush against your chest. And you’re even more aware when he lines his fat pink tip to your sticky lower lips. Suguru doesn’t let you see just how big he is, he directs your focus to his lips on yours. But Lord, do you fucking feel it. You feel it when he rubs up and down on your wet slit. You feel it when he pushes only his tip inside of you before he pulls back out again.
Suguru doesn’t think he can keep on teasing you like this. He tries to keep it up for your sake, but the way you feel on his tip has his body shaking; it’s almost embarrassing. But he can’t find himself to feel ashamed when you look up at him at him like that, your eyes pleading for him to fuck you into the mattress.
“I’m gonna put it in now, baby. I’m gonna fuck you real good, okay?” You’re learning, you know he wants an answer from you, and you don’t bat an eye when your trembling, honeyed voice whispers, “Whatever y-you want, Sugu.”
Whatever he wants? You probably should’ve never said that, and he’ll show you why. He pushes inside of your cunt slowly, hissing at the same time you shriek when your walls try to push him out. “Breathe,” He rasps out. And you’re trying, you’re really trying to. But he’s just so fucking big, it’s like he’s breaking your pussy in half. 
“Y-You’re too big! I can’t-” He doesn’t let you finish, he proves that you can when he pushes in halfway through your slobbering pussy. 
“Of course you can, Y/n. You’re almost there, sweetheart. One more breath for me, yeah?” 
You listen wordlessly, sucking in another deep breath. It’s inevitable to cry when he plunges the rest of his 8 and a half inches in one go. Suguru lets out a groan in your ear, and the sound makes your insides churn. How is it that he immediately finds your spongy spot? You’re so used to being briefly grazed in that spot that this feeling is foreign to you.
Suguru gives you a few seconds before your pussy starts suffocating him, and he’s forced to start feeding you with slow, deep strokes. “Jesus, fuck!” You keen, mewling, and pressing on his firm abs; the pressure was just too much for you. Are you crazy?
“None of that Y/n.” He uses his left hand to hold both of your hands and place them above your head, gently grasping your throat with his right. All the while, his eyes never leave yours, and his big cock never stops stirring up your guts at that slow pace. He gets impatient. 
“You feel so good, so fucking tight. Pretty pussy is mine now, yeah? Tell me it is,” Gradual snapping of his hips against yours in a feverous tempo causes you to scramble under him, with your mind getting lost since you can’t find anything to keep you grounded. He has you altogether under his control, and you can’t find it in yourself to be upset.
You don’t respond, your brain too gone to form any thought that’s not Sugu. You’ve forgotten your manners, he’ll make sure to remind you. He snaps his hips harder, he swears the cries you make almost make him cum on the spot.
“Words, Y/n. Tell me this perfect pussy is mine,” The sound of your soaked pussy filling the air as he whispers against your lips, which are permanently shaped in a perfect O.
You weep out, “Fuck! Oh, Sugu- it’s yours, all yours! I- Ah!” His face adorns with a sly smile at your confession. His body is on fire, your pussy perfectly snug around the shape of his cock. He knows he’s about to cum, with the way his insides are twisting, and his heavy balls are twitching rapidly as they slap on the fat on your ass. Your pussy is so good that he swears you’re not even from this planet. But he needs to get you there first. That’s all he needs to dump his seed inside of you.
He slithers the hand gripping your throat down to your drooling clit, rubbing so fast you think you’re having whiplash. Your cries become louder, and before you even know what’s happening, you’re covering Suguru’s entire stomach and his soft sheets with your squirt.
Suguru follows swiftly after you, letting out a sinful moan, his body trembling as he fills your pussy with his cum. It’s so much, so fucking much, that you can feel it overflowing past your stretched-out pussy. The sluggishness of his thrusts inside you causes him to let out loud breaths and drop his face in the crook of your neck.
Your eyes are still stuck on the ceiling above you, shallow breaths emerging from your sore throat. Woah.
The long-haired man above you is still panting and giving you another command, making it difficult for you to process what just happened to you.
“On your stomach, sweetheart.”
This time, you remember your manners.
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evilminji · 3 months
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Dani should Kidnap The Clones.
It's basicly protective custody. Preemptive child services, if you will. NONE of these fuckers out here makin adorable clone baby just cause they want kids!
*kicks down the door to your shady lab* Knock Knock! ITS THE POLICE! *Walker's Shock troopers swarm the place as Dani secures the kids*
Look me in the eyes. You KNOW he'd love an excuse to enforce The Rules on people technically outside his jurisdiction. It's for The Children(tm)! Why, he simply had no CHOICE!
Meanwhile? Dani is shoving all these mal-adjusted Murder Clones into her Lair? Which is? Basicly a Door style Lair she hid inside Danny's Lair for safe keeping. It's shoved behind a vending machine just outside the observatory. And the inside? Goes on for DAYS.
Like national parks and every beautiful beach she ever came across. She smashed together the BEST sights and places she's found in her travels, like a collection. Always adding more. New waterfalls, new noodle shops, new fields of wine grapes. It's... beautiful. Snapshots of every wonderous little thing about Earth, stitched together.
They can't hurt anyone. Can't achieve their "objectives". Are just treated like actual individuals and the children they truely are. Are surrounded by other Clones. So it's NORMAL here. Just? All of it.
But also?
Dani and Dan? Teaming up to make History's Scariest Adoption Agency(TM). Dan runs it. Dan wants to know why EXACTLY you want a kid. Explain yourself to Dan. What are your references? Qualifications. He's doing a home visit to inspect the premises. He BETTER not find any suspicious Labs.
And? It just? Appears out of nowhere. It's powered by Zone Bullshit. One second you're thinking "oh woe is me D:> I will never have a child to fill my lovely home, because of all my Superhero Secrets and also because government bureaucracy!" And the next?
.....wasn't that an out of business taco bell? "Zone Adoptions"?
"....Free Clone Baby?"
Okay that is HIGHLY suspicious and as a hero you are basicly legally obligated to investigate. But now it's bigger on the inside? Fancy waiting room? You are being interrogated? Wait, no, you're supposed to be the one doing the-?
Somehow? You leave with your Clone Son from another Dimension. And a pamphlet. You're scheduled for a home visit in three days. You... you never told them where you live.
Somehow that doesn't seem like it will slow them down.
Did the Fae just Suprise Baby you with a clone baby? Can they DO that? W... what's happening? What days is this? Who ARE YOU PEOPLE?! HUH!?!?
Just? Imagine. IMAGINE. I was gonna say Bruce... but?
Damian.
He finds himself... pondering What Could Have Been. Had his Clones not wanted him dead. Wondering if he could have saved them. If, perhaps, he had found them as infants. Raised them. Could he have given them a good life? Been a good father?
He gets emotional. Fatherly. He's about 14.
Dan's been around Ghosts too long to remember how humans age or how age relates to development. This one TALKS like An Adult. Must be one. Probably just short.
And Damian? Never backs down. The second Dan starts challenging him? His character is flawless and his morals divine. He has never done anything wrong, ever, in his LIFE. Fuck you. And on TOP of that? He not only will be the SINGLE GREATEST FATHER TO EVER FATHER, his home is the most loving and beloved ON THE PLANET!
In entirety of EARTH'S history, no less!
....what are they arguing about?
*is handed a baby and kicked out of Dan's adoption agency*
See you in a few days!
(o.o ) *happy gurgling from the baby* *Damian.exe has stopped working*
Smash cut, after Damian speed runs his stages of grief at his own Dumbass Life Choices, to his rocking back up at the Manor like? Congratulations, Father. I have brought you your first grandson! Do Not ask how I obtained him. It was likely dubiously legal but I will not be returning him. We have bonded.
And just? Annihilating the collective Bats on one go. You did what? You have What?! That is a baby! WHY IS THERE A BABY?! How is there a baby!? WHOS BABY!? *sirens going off and everyone panicking*
Will Damian be allowed to KEEP the Baby? Ha! Hell no. Bruce will. Damian is a child. But it will be a Needlessly Dramatic Bat Cold War Of Dramatic Drama to pry that small cherubic baby from his grip long enough for Bruce to fill out the paperwork.
Child thieving bastard that he is. How dare he. That is Damian's SON! D:<
*happy oblivious baby noises as Alfred feeds him in the background, while the Bats do their Dramatic Custody War*
@hdgnj @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @mutable-manifestation
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vagabond-umlaut · 9 months
Text
tryst, too tempest
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Icarus fell for loving the Sun.
You will, for loving your lover.
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▸ trueform!sukuna x wife!reader; 1.1k wc; comprises of elements inspired by the tale of 'hades and persephone' & 'fall of icarus'; warning: sukuna is sukuna, so expect the expected [mentions of violence, murder, cannibalism]; warning 2.0: the reader is not very keen to leave or not love her husband; uraume is the BEST WINGPERSON none of you two ever deserved but still got; FLUFF & ANGST & A MADLY DEVOTED LOVE YOU AND SUKUNA FEEL FOR EACH OTHER
▸ belongs to the series 'mine? yes, mine.' – same universe as the work 'six seeds, like rubies...' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!
▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️
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Foul winds howl through the land, the first year of your life as one Ryomen Sukuna's wife.
Servants cower before you the moment your shadow falls within their field of vision, yet their gaze stays steeped in pity and envy the entire time it remains trained on your feet. Grocers mumble to one another, eyes looking away when you move to look at the things in their shops. Even the very flora and fauna, you loved so much growing up, writing poems on them from the day you knew how to pen a poem– even the same flora and fauna feels so foreign to you—
"You do realize your importance to Master, don't you?"
Uraume's quiet question floats in through your thoughts, much akin a gentle breeze creating small ripples over the water surface. You smile. "Given how I haven't been eaten by him or sent to be murdered by his subordinate curses, I think I do."
Emotion, too similar to humor, flits across the mien of your husband's loyal follower — you decide not to think much of it. Too many days of having only them as someone to speak to, outside of requesting for a second serving of the soup or asking for the cost of yukata, has led to you imagining a smile on a person who is famous for their poker face. Shaking your head, you return to your poems, the quill fluttering over the roll of parchment you found lying at the breakfast today morning, and let out a content sigh — only for your peace of mind to be broken by the bursting of a guard into the garden, appearing too terrorstruck to utter a single coherent word.
It takes you nothing save one glance, moving from him to Uraume to your ink-stained fingers, before you find yourself keeping the papers on the ground beside and rising, feet breaking into a hasty giddy run down the corridors of the palace to the throne room where, certainly enough–
"I was under the impression you've run away in the extra while I spent sleeping, wife."
The world around you comes to a dead stop as the visage of Sukuna comes into your line of sight; you feel your heart skip two beats then begin a thundering rhythm against your ribcage.
Four years ago, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have given them a second of your time before walking away with a polite excuse.
One year before, if someone were to tell you there is someone who is going to free you from the gilded cage you were forced to call 'home', is going to share with you his name and is going to be the reason you will ponder the meaning of love, you would have huffed a quiet laugh. The first two have already come to pass (with too many lives lost and too many lives threatened) — yet the very last prediction? You would have considered it to be highly improbable, if not outright impossible.
Yet, now, if someone were to tell you the same three things, you think you wouldn't have shown much of a reaction. You would have simply turned to that 'someone' mentioned in the prediction, and gazed and gazed and gazed–
"I left the roll of parchment you bought for Mistress at the breakfast table, just as you asked, Master," Uraume's voice cuts your thoughts into half and you twist to catch them offer you both a very deep bow before hurrying out, to the left towards the kitchen, four baskets full of radishes in their arms.
You look back at your husband, only to find him seated stiffly on his throne, eyes landing anywhere but you. Stifling a giggle, you tilt your head to the side.
"Why do you act so embarrassed, my king?" you ask, stepping a timid step towards him, then another. Gleaming ruby eyes dart to your face then to your approaching feet. Something tingles through your veins. Climbing the stairs leading to him, you hum, smiling, "I don't think it's embarrassing – quite the opposite, in fact. To me, giving one's wife a thoughtful gift as that... it seems quite adorable to me."
"Be careful of your words, woman," the King of Curses growls, rising and taking a large menacing step in your direction; your smile grows intentionally too innocent, which does apparently nothing to quell his increasing fury: the precise outcome you've been wishing so fervently for.
He pulls you by the waist, flush to himself and lowers his lips close to yours, tantalizingly so. He smells very strongly of those bath salts you bought from a travelling merchant three moons back; faintly of blood and death, of the priest he diced last night after dinner — you wonder if you're worthy to be called a human, after finding the curse you have sworn yourself to forever, so terribly dear despite these.
Certainly not — but you reckon you're too far gone to care anyways, so you stop wondering such things – and lift yourself on your tiptoes to brush your lips with your husband's, then pull away a touch, words leaving your lips in a breathy whisper.
"What if I'm not careful with my words? What will you do then, hm? Will you devour me like the monster everyone says you are? Or, will you throw me away like everyone warns me you will one day– when you find someone prettier, smarter, better than me, huh?"
Two moments pass in pin-drop silence between the two of you.
Barking a noisy guffaw, Sukuna weaves his fingers through your hair, still damp from the bath you took a short time ago, and plants a deep kiss to your lips. Then parts his lips from yours, although a mere hair's breadth away, and grins, features teeming with that exotic species of malevolence you never saw yourself regarding to be charming.
Until your gaze met with his, one fated evening, that is.
Your nails dig crescents into the broad muscles of his shoulders.
Your lover's grin sharpens. "Let time tell the tale— yes, my queen?"
The next morning, you find a dozen or so heads waiting for you at the breakfast table, severed by a neat slice at the root of their neck– eyes and mouths which once looked down on your wedding with the King, frozen forever now in a scream of terror.
Forsaking the wonted theme of nature, you decide to pen a poem on scathing, soothing love, instead.
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or... everyone: your husband is a despicable monster!!! you: uh-huh everyone: he might leave you for someone better!!! you: uh-huh everyone: you better not stay in this union anymore. you: nuh-nuh. i'm so gonna stay and love and fuck my hubby <3
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▸ masterlist
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helluvapoison · 3 months
Note
I just read your Lucifer ABC's and the idea of him knowing everything about reader, but also needing words of afirmation just gave me an idea. Just imagine Lucifer truly asking to be tested about how much he knows reader, and they just start asking "Who is the person that i love most?" "Who makes my heart flutter and beat so loud even heaven could hear it?" "Who lives in my head rent free that even while dreaming he's there making everything brighter?". Lucifer would crumble.
I cant take this image from mi mind, please honey, show me the sweet baby crumble.
The Answer
Lucifer Morningstar x Reader
ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ
“C’mon!”
Lucifer’s smile threatens to crack his face in half.
He’s been begging you to quiz him on your knowledge of him even though you assured him, you believe he knows everything about you. A part of you knows this isn’t for you; it’s for him. Lucifer wants to prove he’s a worthy mate by sharing the information he’s collected about you. His crimson eyes are big and beautiful and straight up impossible to deny. With a smile of your own, you sigh and drop your phone. Turning to give him your full attention, you rest your head in your hands.
“Alright. What’s… my favorite color?”
Suddenly his smile drops, eyes rolling dramatically to the left.
“Pfft! That’s way too easy. You need to give me a harder one than that, darling!”
Pursing your lips to the side for only a moment, you don’t need to wrack your brain very hard for a question that would stun Lucifer. A smirk tugs across your face. It’s returned tenfold. He’s vibrating with excitement when he sees you’ve conjured something, something he thinks he can answer. That only makes you more ready to win the battle he’s started.
“Who’s the first person I’d tell a secret to?”
Lucifer inhales like he’s been holding his breathe the whole time.
“That’s—!” He chokes, pupils shrinking to slits, “That’s, uh…”
You make sure to give him a few seconds before dropping the next question.
“Who’s the person I want to see every morning, noon and night of every day?”
“I-I know this one!” Lucifer assures but deflates, shoulders slumping with the amount of uncertainty weighing him down.
“Who am I thinking about every waking moment because they’re my favorite person in the universe?”
Lucifer looks like he wants to say the answer, but he’s afraid it’s wrong. His mouth opens and shuts unsure of itself. His eyes scan your face for any warning signs and although he finds none, it’s as if he can’t trust any of his senses.
Who makes me smile and laugh more than anyone?
Who’s so creative they always have me in awe?
Who can make my day brighter just by being themself?
Question after question, you tug him closer by his hips until he’s flush against you. You will your hands to deliver to reassurance your words cannot. Fingers glide up his neck and comb through his blonde locks, every stroke an apology for dragging the game on.
“Who do I love the very most and thank Heaven every night for sending him to me?”
Your hands steal the apples of his cheeks and tilt his head up. Your eyes grip his in a staring competition fueled by adoration. The games over and forgotten but it has a clear winner. Lucifer’s a blushing disaster, his voice failing him and melting to a whine. He swallows hard on nothing, eyebrows pinching together making his expression appear dangerously hopeful.
Your voice drops to an agonizingly soft whisper. Syrupy sweet yet serious.
“I’ll give you a hint. He’s my angel… His name starts with an L… He’s looking at me like he wants a kiss…?”
“I��Is… Is it.. Me?”
“Yes, Luci. The answer is you.”
Closing the small gap between you both, you finally give him a reward for answering the question correctly.
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