#I think this comes down to roughly three reactions

[webgeekist]

.

[cupidscrule]

sooo if u could do bullysatosugu x fem!reader u would do me a biiiiiiggg favorrr and thak youuu

PUPPY BABY !

BULLY!Satosugu× afab!reader (no prns r used)

WARNINGS - light bondage, mean Satoru and suguru, slight non con? Reader doesn't explicitly consent but it's Implied, au where suguru isn't a cult leader, p in v, forced blow job, marking, reader gags on their panties

1.2 k wrds

You were their victim, all throughout highschool and now as a teacher. Still their victim, even though you three had grown up that didn't stop them, Satoru. Suguru.

Fucken assholes, calling you names, making fun of how you look, talked, anuthin' they could.

It was miserable, you couldn't do anything against them either way so it was pointless, the only reasonable person in your life was Shoko

"I swear I'm gonna kill them." You mutter to her dramatically falling back onto her bed, "I know they're annoying " she replies glam in over at you, she was the only person you could TALK to. At least she was always there as a buffer between you and the bastards, always let you rant and scream with her.

They never fucked around with Shoko though, no idea why they won't respect you but they will her.

"I'm so tireddd" you groan leaning back in the empty classroom, your students were currently out on a mission, probobly not dead. Shoko was off doing god knows what and, well there was Gojo and Geto. Honestly it was a pretty good day, they weren't around you; they were doing their own thing. Meaning you get peace and quiet. Which is rare.

"Hey y/n! What's up" the way too familiar voice echos, sound of the creaking door opening. Standing in the doorway the men.

"The hell do you want" you murmmer looking over at them, eyes halflided looking both grosed out and annoyed. Typical reaction to seeing those dicks.

"You looked lonely, thought we'd stop by" suguru said causally, shrugging his shoulders.

"Whatever bullshit your up to, I don't care" you say plainly, to your dismay they don't leave though. Coming up closer to you, Satoru talking about random shit, suguru just looking over at you. You were leaning on one of the old desks, too tired to be bothered to get rid of the pests

Satoru coming up beside you pulling on your hair harshly, slightly whimper comes from your lips

"Oh fuck sugu~ hear that" the white haired one says smirking like a cunt

Pulling away from him, standing a few feet away from them. "Fucken' whore" he whispers small laugh coming from him

" 'toru aren't you being a bit mean to the poor thing?" Geto hums, hands in his pockets. Eyes lingering on the display infront of him

"Nah shes not crying it's fine!! Sugu don't be such a downer " Satoru says fake frown on his dumb little face. Looking back over at you his hand going to grab your face, only to be stopped by you slapping it away

"Don't touch me." You say short, teeth gritting

"Bitch oh you're gonna regret that" he glaring at you, roughly grabbing onto your shoulders pushing you firmly against the wall, his grip tight, nails digging into your soft skin though the fabric of your uniform

Before briefly releasing you, shoving you down. Honestly you're kinda shocked, shocked that he thinks he can just get away with this. But of course it doesn't even MATTTER suguru's standing beside the cunt. They both have a devilsh look on their eyes which made you shudder, brows furrowed at them

"Yknow I've- fuck always been more a dog person"

Fucking humiliation is all you felt, they had you on your knees. Hands held behind your back, gagging on Satoru, even worse was your soaked panties, the fact you were getting off on this

Suguru sat on a chair behind you, holding your wrists firmly, while you were buried between satorus legs, his hand held on your hair gripping it and fucking your sore throat. Only sloppy moans came from you, tears in your eyes

"Shit you crying? What happened to tellin us to fuck off ?" Suguru laughs, using his free hand to rub the tears off your face.

"Mmf- don't even have a gag reflex you really are - fuck a slut huh?" Satoru says, forcing you to take his whole length, feeling his seed seep into your throat.

He pulls out, still semi hard dick in his hand "swallow." He said, watching you, a teary pretty little mess choke it down, face all red.

"Better listen hunny" suguru mutters patting the side of your cheek, you would almost think it was endearing if it wasn't for your situation.

No matter how much you tried you just couldn't make a coherent sentence, just babbles of cuss words.

"F-fuck y- you-"'

"Use your words" suguru says again in that sickly sweet tone

Satoru still up in front of you, looking down at you as if you're a bug.

"I h- hiccup hate- you. " Only words to come out of your mouth, wasn't really what they wanted to hear but it was something !

Suguru letting go of your wrists , releasing you, thighs were pressed together , dribbles of cum coming down from your chin with still teary eyes, awe it made satorus heart melt. For a moment he almost wanted to take away all the pain you were in, but then you wouldn't be crying so what's the fun in that?

"I'll take care of you hm? Alright hunny?" Suguru says, picking you up, bending your down, stomach down and ass up on the cold desk you were sitting on, you still had all your clothes on. Well despite your shirt being ever so slightly unbuttoned. Suguru with ease pulled down your sweats, your white lacey panties soaked, small giggle comes from Satoru after seein' that

"I was just jokin' damn, slutty one aren't ya?"

Suguru gently pulling them off, handing them to Satoru who proceeds to jam them in your mouth, making you taste your own filth, hearing suguru unbutton his pants, running his dick on your slit making muffled moans escape from you

Bullying his dick into your right hole, soft groans is all that's heard in the room, suguru has your legs resting on his hips while he digs into you.

Hands digging into your ass, earning small whines from you

His pace wasn't as bad at Satorus, still sore though. Till eventual you can feel him slowdown chasing his high, pulling close into you and cumming inside, hands still gripped onto your ass making small red marks.

"Cries too much" Satoru says pushing you over onto suguru

"Satoru, be nice they've been through enough ~"

"Mfm-sore- hurt" you whine snuggling closer to them

Huh, maybe they aren't so bad.

PT 2 CHAT?1!!1

[ellecdc]

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFx4A93R/

Dude in my opinion, the moonwater couple are like tidy couple? Do you get what i mean? Like they will keep everything at their place amd everything clean?

What will be their reaction if reader shows them this video and ask them if they would do the same to reader as a lesson?

It'll be cool if it can be a fic. But idk if your request is open. I just immediately went to this ask without checking it first

omg first of all - fuck that guy fr fr lolllll. Also that is such a sweet headcanon to have about moonwater - what does everyone else think? I totally agree with Regulus being super organized and tidy, but I'm not sure about Remus? Perhaps if he was with Regulus then yes, he'd be pretty tidy.

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who has hair ties and bobby pins and wears makeup

It was sort of comical the way that the three of you created some sort of spectrum of tidiness in your relationship.

Regulus was by far the tidiest of the bunch. As a matter of fact, if you didn’t see Regulus haunting the halls of your flat, you’d be hard-pressed to believe another person lived with you at all. He was so tidy, in fact, that he would often follow behind you as you tidied in order to re-tidy, though he never made a big deal about it.

“Don’t worry, mon amour, I’ll handle it. You go sit.”

He was simply just a tidy person – something that likely followed him into adulthood from his home life as a child – and he, as well as you and Remus, readily accepted that.

Remus was less tidy than Regulus but not nearly as liberal as yourself. Sometimes, you’d find Regulus picking up the odd stray half-finished cup of tea, or books that were turned face down and never returned to, but that was roughly the extent of Remus’ mess. 

Remus was what you called a piler – he had various piles of things throughout your shared home that may look random or out of place to the layperson but seemed to be the pique of organization in Remus’ mind. He was also the kind of person who would clean as he cooked and wouldn’t sit down to eat until the kitchen was cleaned up behind him.

Couldn’t be you, however. 

You were sure you seemed like chaos personified compared to your two boyfriends, always leaving a ‘trail of destruction’ behind you as Regulus once (lovingly) referred to it as. There was evidence of you everywhere – hair ties, bobby pins, half-finished drinks, books, magazines, and the likes. No one would have to wonder if you were home from work, seeing as your shoes were hastily tossed aside, your keys thrown onto the console table rather than hanging in their rightful place, your bag hung over the back of a chair, and your hair tie sitting on the kitchen table – all screaming “your girlfriend’s home!”

And though your boyfriends have occasionally taken the piss for your untidiness, it had never escalated to anything more than a “hey dove, can you come rinse your paint brushes that you’ve left in the sink” or a “amour, I don’t know where your makeup goes, can you come put this away?”

So, when you saw this video on Tiktok, you couldn’t help but ask them if they’d ever consider doing this to you to teach you a lesson. 

“‘Teach you a lesson’!?�� Regulus repeated incredulously, already looking horrified and you hadn’t even shown him the video yet.

“Why…why does he have a hammer?” Remus asked cautiously.

Suffice it to say, the boys did not like the video.

“I’m not watching this.” Regulus spat and stood from his spot on the couch next to Remus rather abruptly. You momentarily felt bad for showing it to him, knowing that signs of even mild aggression like this could be triggering to someone who grew up in a tense household, but felt better when he turned to glower darkly at you, knowing then that his ire was only half-hearted. 

“Dovey,” Remus pleaded, his face looking horrified as he watched the man smash his girlfriend’s makeup. “Why…oh my god. If I ever do something like that to you, you fucking leave my arse, alright? Punch me right in the face whilst you’re at it, too.”

“Not me.” Regulus added, not making it very far after refusing to watch the video and leaning against the back of the couch to continue watching it over Remus’ shoulder. “Just kill me; put me right out of my misery if I insist on being such a miserable wanker.” 

You snorted a laugh as both boys scoffed derisively at the “I heart you” written on the mirror, Regulus looking thoroughly disgusted and Remus still seemingly horrified. 

“Oh, he loves her. I guess that makes it alright then.” He muttered sarcastically. “What’s this woman’s address? Tell her we’re sending her a gift card to…. what’s the store that you like?”

“Sephora.”

“Sephora; tell her we’re sending her a gift card to Sephora.”

You chuckled and leaned further into Remus’ shoulder. “You have to keep watching, he says he’s going to take her shopping for all new stuff after.”

This caused a pained groan to rip through Regulus’ throat as he began muttering angrily in French and finally wandering away. “Idiot absolu. On dit que ce n'est pas tous les hommes, mais il y a des hommes comme ça. Je ne peux même pas les appeler des hommes, plutôt des putains de bambins.”

“Why would you show me this?” Remus turned to look at you, his bottom lip jutting out comically. “This is making me so sad.”

“I wanted to know if you would resort to something like this because of my mess!” You defended.

“Oh, dove. You’re not messy, you’re just not as tidy as Mr. Clean-Freak over there.” He motioned towards the direction Regulus had gone with his head earning him a “you watch yourself monsieur les tas” from his boyfriend’s disembodied voice.

Remus pressed a lingering kiss to your lips and only broke away because he couldn’t stop smiling. “I would clean up after you for the rest of my life if it meant getting to keep you around.” He said proudly, and you felt your heart stutter in your chest.

“Remus.” You moaned, pressing another kiss to his lips. “So, you wouldn’t ruin my makeup for leaving it out?”

Remus scoffed and turned back to his book. “Not in a million years.”

“Come on amour! Get your jacket, we’re leaving.” Regulus called to you from the door. You could hear him jingling his car keys.

“Where are we going?” You called back.

“Sephora. I have to buy someone makeup now. If I can’t send some to the internet girl, I may as well spoil my own.” 

[missannwinchester]

Marina, +18, Joel Miller/Reader

Summary: On vacation with your father and his new wife, you seek revenge in the arms of an older sailor. Pure porn, no plot.

MAIN MASTERLIST maybe you'll find sth interesting

Warnings: oral s*x (female receiving), unprotected s*x (because this is fiction and not real life), a teeny tiny little bit of degradation I guess? (Reader asks to be called sl*t),

panties used as a gag, pretty vanilla tbh, Reader is over 18, however old you want her to be, she is wearing a dress, Joel is older, unspecified age gap.

You were lying on your back, looking at the wooden ceiling of the cabin. Your yellow summer dress was being pulled up your thighs. Joel, the sexy older man you had met in the marina, spread your knees and ran his scruffy cheek along your inner thigh. One of his massive hands slid up to find the hem of your panties. The other one joined promptly and he took off your underwear quite roughly. You trembled in anticipation and tangled your fingers into his hair when he was busy planting wet kisses on your abdomen. Your hand tried to urge him to stop teasing you, but it was clear he was going to play by his own rules.

Finally, you felt his hot breath on your wet labia. He licked you, starting at the bottom, finishing right on your clit. You moved one of your legs, impatiently pressing into his shoulder. He grabbed your leg with one hand and pressed on it.

"So impatient," he muttered into your core and you sighed.

"Come on, please!"

"Mmm, princess, you know what I should do? Gag you with those tiny little panties, you're distracting me," he tried to reason with you, his brown eyes devouring your half naked silhouette.

"Please do it," you begged before your brain could register what was happening.

"Really?" He wanted to make sure.

"I like it a little rough... I think..."

"You think?" He asked.

The truth was you didn't really know. You had always been too shy and insecure to have ever told your partners what you wanted. This time was going to be different. It was your first ever one night stand and you were going to do it right. And by right you meant that you were going to enjoy it. No shame, no guilt, no regret. At least that was what you were telling yourself. So you nodded.

"Oh b-before you do that..."

You sat up on the bed, instinctively adjusting your dress so that it would cover you.

"It should be easy for you to just spit out. Or tap the bed three times and I'll stop. That alright with you, darlin'?"

There was something about that you couldn't quite pin down, but it was easy for you to trust him. That's why you found yourself on his boat, in that cozy, narrow cabin, on the king sized bed. Half naked.

The way he looked at you made your insides flutter. It was unbelieveable to you that you actually wanted to be vulnerable with that man. It was unthinkable. Yet... you had to ask.

"Are there other names you want to call me?" You wondered.

"Like what? I'll call you anything you want," he promised, carressing your thigh with one hand, squeezing your panties in the other.

"Even... something bad?"

You watched his reaction.

"Ohh," he hummed with understanding. "I got myself a bad girl."

He took your knees and spread them again. You felt his finger at your opening, smearing your slick wettness along your mound.

"I found a little slut today," he smirked at you and you nodded.

Maybe you weren't into rough sex normally? Maybe this situation made you crave it? Maybe it was his intimidating persona that made you think all those thoughts. It was all very naughty to you. He was easily twenty years older than you, looking better than any other man on Earth and he was about to fuck you. Really, truly fuck you.

Suddenly, you found yourself on your back again, looking at the already familiar knag on the ceiling. Joel was hovering over you, holding your jaw lightly. You obeyed him and he put your damp panties in your mouth. You felt a little self conscious for a second, but then Joel's nose pressed against your throbbing clit. Oh damn.

The rest was a blur. He started lapping at your wettness, making obscene noises. His tongue moved expertly, right where you wanted it. Your fingers were massaging his head, trying to press him harder into you. You were a panting mess, a little slut, gagged on a stranger's bed in a shady part of the marina. The tension inside you was building, about to explode any minute. After a few expert moves you came, choking him, trapping between your trembling legs.

Your body finally relaxed and Joel hovered over you, his lips and scruff were covered in your juices.

"How's my slut feeling?" He asked, clearly expecting an answer, but did nothing to remove the makeshift gag.

You wondered for a split second if you should take it out yourself, but you just said "amazing" with it still in, making an incoherent noise.

"Such a good bad girl, who would have thought?"

You were suspecting that he didn't actually think you were a bad girl. Judging by his... performance it all was probably very vanilla for him.

"Fuck me," you said, enjoying the sound of your own muffled voice.

"What are you saying?"

"FUCK ME!" you mumbled loudly.

"I'm sorry," he said.

He knelt on the bed and unzipped his pants, then he quickly pulled them down, together with his boxers. His impressive length sprung out and it was definitely bigger than what you had expected. It looked bigger than your big dildo and in your experience real humans never had those dimensions.

"No idea what you're saying, but I'm lovin' it" he muttered, smearing precum around his tip.

"Are you gonna make those noises now too?" He wondered.

He placed himself above you and nuzzled your entrance with the tip.

"I asked you," he admonished. "Are you gonna make those noises now? Now that I'm feeding your needy pussy with my cock, hmm?"

"Mhmm!" You responded this time, nodding your head frantically, desperately wanting to feel more of him.

"Perfect little slut," he commented.

His dick slid along your labia a few times, smearing the wettness around. He pressed the tip into your opening and you whined, wrapping both of your hands around his strong, still clothed torso. The white shirt he was wearing was starting to cling to his body, but it was only the beginning.

Your walls stretched around him, wet, warm and welcoming. He slid in carefully, slowly, filling you to the brim, making you hum with pleasure. You had a feeling he liked it when you moaned behind the gag so you decided not to refrain yourself from making noises.

The depths of you he managed to reach were now tingling, each move, each stroke was bringing you closer and closer to yet another orgasm. Your legs were pulling him closer to you, your nails were tracing patterns on the damp, white shirt. Your strangled noises weren't enough for you anymore, but you struggled to spit out the gag. Finally you helped yourself a little with your hand, pulling your underwear out of your mouth in between strokes.

"Fuck!" was the first word you said or maybe moaned and it came out much louder than you intended.

You were starting to lose your rhythm, or maybe Joel was, or the both of you.

"I'm- I'm feeling you so deep inside me," you whimpered, rocking your hips into him, desperate for more.

"I know," he panted into your ear in a condescending tone. "You are taking it so well, so fucking well," he groaned. "You're taking it like a real slut, I know it's a lot, I know..."

His thrusts were powerful, forceful even, and you encouraged him with little moans.

"I know, it's okay little slut, it's okay, nothing you can't take..."

"Fuck! Fuck, Joel!"

It hit you like a truck.

Your walls fluttered around him, tightening, squeezing him. He moved a few times before spilling his seed into you, filling you, painting your insides. Your fucked raw pussy milked him dry. He collapsed on top of you instead of simply pulling out and you pulled him even closer to your chest.

He hummed in content, nuzzling your neck with his nose, tickling you with his facial hair.

"You're something else, darlin'," he gasped into your ear, his spent, sweaty body was still pressing you into the mattress making you feel safe and relaxed, like a warm, breathing weighted blanket.

"You're not bad either," you whispered.

Breathing deeply, with your muscles relaxed, with calloused fingertips gently tracing invisible patterns on your skin you felt your eyelids getting heavier and heavier.

"I don't wanna go," you confessed sleepily.

"Then don't."

Then don't. Simple as that.

You wondered what it would be like. Travelling on his little boat, stopping in marinas, sunbathing on the deck all day, fucking relentlessly all night... You felt a pang of pain at the concept, like you were missing it, mourning a mere idea, nothing more than an efemeral thought.

You decided to indulge yourself, drifting deeper into thought, falling asleep under the weight of Joel, the sailor who rocked your world like the sea rocks such tiny little boats.

The end.

Thank you for reading :) Comments are very appreciated.

~missannwinchester

[urlovebot]

✮⋆˙ All mine

c/w: dumbification. throat fucking with a strap-on. EXTREMELY possessive bada. reader is a brat, bada is a brat tamer a/n: uhm... enjoy 😄

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“put it on for me.”

bada’s hand guides yours to the silicone cock lying on the bed. you feel the weight of it in your hand, quivering as you think of what she might have in mind tonight. you know you shouldn’t have acted out tonight; talked back to your girlfriend.

you were out with bada and the rest of her team when they all started clowning on her so, naturally, you joined in on the fun. you might've taken it too far by saying

“i know you wouldn’t think it- but i tell bada what to do in the bedroom.”

and when she looked at you, eyes piercing through your own, your heart dropped. she subtly holds up three fingers and then points directly at you so quickly that you would’ve missed it had you not caught her stare just moments before. your third strike.

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

“mhm, just like that.” bada looks down at you and watches while you shakily attach the toy to her harness. bada thinks— you should be scared. you should be fucking terrified. once you’ve finished, bada’s hand cradles your cheek and slides down to cup your jaw.

bada coos at you, feigning concern when your eyes well up with tears, “stop fuckin’ crying. you’ll do enough of that later.” bada scoffs and shakes her head, “ran that goddamn mouth tonight, didnt you?”

you felt so bad, but good god were you turned on. whether bada realizes or not, you did it on purpose to get a reaction out of her. you nod, head hanging in shame. “yes i did.” bada’s eyebrows raise when you stopped looking at her— were you fucking serious? her hand moves from your jaw to the hair at the nape of your neck. she wrenches your head up and when you make eye contact she looks furious.

“first you say stupid shit in front of my team, then you deny me that pretty cunt of yours in the car… and now you don’t wanna look at me? huh?”, bada bends down so that her head is level with your own, “you need to learn some manners, don’t you baby? ‘m gonna teach you exactly what that pretty mouth is good for.”

bada doesn’t give you any time to respond, she just brings your face up to the cock strapped to her. “kiss it.”

you kiss up the length of the cock, lips flowering over the head.

“that’s it, baby. open your mouth for me.”

it’s as if every word that comes out of bada’s mouth possesses you. your jaw drops and you open wide for her. she slaps the tip of her strap against your tongue.

“you gonna take it all f’me? hmm?” she stops tapping the tip on your tongue in favor of watching you try to form words. she chuckles then coos at you, feigning concern, “its okay pretty girl, let me do all the thinking for you. you just focus on being a pretty face for me.”

and with that, she guides your mouth onto the silicone cock, grasping at your hair harder when you try to pull away. she pushes your head down to the base of the cock and brings it back up the length, pulling you off with a pop. she taps the now spit-coated strap onto your face, grinning at how pretty you looked like this. on your knees, eyes glazed over, tears in your eyes, and tongue lolling out of your mouth, just waiting for her to do whatever she wants to you. pliant. she liked you pliant. she brings your head to the tip of her cock again, but instead of pushing you down the shaft, she fucks it into your mouth in one thrust. you let out a cough and try to pull away but bada is not happy with that.

“aht—” she holds your head in place as she fucks in and out of your mouth, “you’re gonna take this shit, y/n. run from it again and see where that gets you.”

she steels the grip on your hair and fucks your mouth so roughly that you feel lightheaded. she lets you up for air but doesn’t loosen her grip. you’re taking in quick breathes, barely able to recover before bada is back fucking into you. you make the mistake of looking up at her. she’d tied her hair up today, bangs pulled back. you can see her abs contract with every thrust and her eyes are squeezed shut. she’s panting, groaning out every couple breaths.

bada loved punishing you. she loved putting you in your place because—

“you were being such a fucking—” pant, “brat today. shit, baby. sometimes,” her eyes open and she looks down at you, “sometimes i wish i could fuck my own cock into this pretty mouth. feel your throat constrict around it. fuck you full of me, just the way it should be. train you to take all of me. because why?” she pulls out of your mouth, a line of spit connecting her strap to your lips. she lets go of your hair in favor of tapping your cheek with her hand. she leans down again and opens her mouth. she lets a string of spit fall from her tongue into your mouth. when you swallow and open your mouth again, she gives you a wet kiss and pulls away grinning, “because you were made for me. you’re my good,” kiss, “fucking,” kiss, “girl.”

the next kiss is rougher, bada’s tongue licking into your mouth, she takes your lip between her teeth as she pulls away. “let me remind you exactly why you slut yourself out— just for me.”

[maybe-moonchild]

CHAPTER 5

summary: in which the last person you expect to show up and save the day… shows up and saves the day. WC: 5.2

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

Scar Guy roughly hoists you up from the ground, dropping you back into the chair and no one seems to pay you any mind at all. You think they might be getting into position- at least that’s what you assume the three thugs are doing. Fisk is more focused on checking his own cell phone which is fine by you.  

So you just sit there, trying to make yourself comfortable to pass the time.

Inhale for five, hold for three, and exhale in the hopes of chasing away the trepidation that is consuming you.

You keep your arm cradled to your chest, the tiniest movement sending a stabbing pain firing through your neurons. The sensation radiates deep into the bones of your upper arm and down into your fingertips. With a sniffle, you carefully wipe your tears on your shoulder without looking up, hoping no one sees how scared you are.

You know it's obvious through your tear stained cheeks and the hunch of your shoulders but, hey, you’re trying to save face.

You really want to go home. You really want to break down into tears. You really want Peter.

More so, you really don’t want him to get hurt. 

Suddenly, the last eight years of distance between the two of you feels so stupid. So incredibly stupid and such a waste of time. Even stupider is the fact you’d spent the past week hiding away from him since the kiss the two of you shared terrified you too. 

Scared and alone, yet again. 

“Look at you,” Fisk ridicules, your head turning away in shame. “I knew he’d come just from hearing your voice. So predictable but, hey,” he shrugs, “that was what I was counting on.” 

You still don’t speak or look up, not even when the tops of his shiny, black shoes become visible in the top of your vision. The crime boss is patient for a moment. When you still don’t give him some sort of reaction, he lets out a sigh, sounding disappointed since he’d just been so kind and graced you with another moment of patience. 

Fisk’s hand shoots out, wrapping around your wrist and forcing you to face him. His fingers feel like they’re digging into the hairline fracture of your bone and widening the crevice, the pain so sharp and blinding that you can’t keep from crying out this time. Clearly, he doesn’t really care that your eyes are screwed shut and not actually looking at him since he has your attention. 

“Any second now,” Fisk says, leaning down so his face is inches from yours, “You want to walk out of here, you’re going to stay right here.”

“Okay!” You choke the words out, face twisted in agony. “Yes- Okay! Okay!”

“No more funny business, got it?You stay right there and don’t say a word unless I tell you to. Another stunt like what you pulled earlier and the next bone I snap will be your neck, got it?” 

“Yes!”

Seemingly satisfied, Fisk drops your arm, letting you slump over on yourself.

 He’s gotten his point across. You just don’t know what that point is. 

You don’t know the rules of the game. You don’t know how to play. You don’t know anything.

Cradling your arm to your chest doesn’t provide much relief but you’re not sure how else to immobilize it. You bite your lip so hard to keep quiet that you draw blood. Hair hangs in front of your face like a curtain that you are happy to hide behind if it means you can have a moment to yourself. 

Fisk and his men chat quietly amongst themselves as minutes drag on. Well, mainly Tattooed Thug and Red Hat Goon crack a few jokes, some at your expense but you don’t really care.

Scar Guy is the only one that seems like a professional criminal; all gruff and irritable like he has more important crimes to commit than this. 

You inhale slowly through your nose to calm down, to pull your thoughts together and think of a plan to get out of here. It’s just so hard to think straight when your mind feels jumbled. It feels like someone opened your skull, removed your brain, and scribbled inside with a pencil. Thoughts and emotions too crammed in the empty spaces that you can’t quite sort through. 

Fisk doesn’t seem like a second chance kinda guy which makes you blink back another wave of tears. 

Luckily, you don’t have to think much longer when one of the goons cries out in surprise. Everyone's heads snap in the direction of the sound, just in time to see that it’s Red Hat Guy.

 One minute, he’s standing there with his gun aimed at the floor; the next, he’s suddenly hoisted up by webbing coming out of thin air. The gun he’d been leisurely holding clatters against the ground as he disappears into the ether of the rafters above.

You jump in your seat when his body drops, covered in webbing and landing in an unconscious heap on the ground. Somehow, the quiet that follows seems even louder than the sound of his head connecting with the cement.

Considering this asshole had specifically been the one with a gun to your head last week, you can’t bring yourself to feel bad. 

Unease spreads quickly through the air, almost palpable in the look Scar Guy and Fisk exchange in a single glance. 

Fisk seems aggravated, his teeth clenched while the other two thugs in the room seem confused. Their guns aim towards the ceiling, eyes scanning the dark for any sign of the newest guest to arrive to the party. 

Spider-Man.

Not even you can help looking up into the dark rafters for a glimpse of the friendly neighborhood hero. You’d clearly expected Peter to show up and you’re not sure how a superhero got the memo but you are certainly not complaining.

It’s better this way, you tell yourself, safer for Peter. Keeping him out of the danger he brought on himself.

Well, also on you. 

But you don’t understand why Spider-Man has shown up. Does his arrival signify your death since Peter didn’t follow the rules? Does he not know that your life is at stake- does he not care? You would never, not for a single moment, think that he would do something so reckless as to involve a superhero when it certainly wouldn’t end well for you. 

All you can feel is confusion clouding your thoughts. You can’t catch up. Everytime you take one step forward, you realize that it was in the wrong direction and you can’t figure out where you’re supposed to get the answers. 

There’s a harsh grip in your hair, forcing you to your feet with a stumble, narrowly avoiding tripping over the chair leg. You whimper at the pain on your scalp, biting down on your lip again when your arm gets jerked around.

Something cold digs into your temple and the familiar feeling is enough for your heart to skip a beat.

A gun… again. 

You already planned on complying but… sure, you really would comply now. 

You know that Fisk was clearly expecting Peter to show up. Not a real threat, like Spider-Man, who could send both his empire of Fisk Industries and his lesser known, criminal empire crumbling to dust. You think that maybe Peter finally realized he was in over his head and called for super powered intervention. 

Fisk, who’s a bit more in the loop than you are regarding secret identities and spider bites, also had been anticipating Peter's arrival.

That was supposed to be the plan. Of course Peter was supposed to show up as himself, mask free and overly cautious about revealing his secret to you; allowing Fisk to keep control of the situation. 

Now some of that control was in Peters hands, settled right next to the triggers of his web shooters. 

“Alright, now. I think we should be able to chat like adults about this,” Fisk calls out towards the shadowed high ceilings of the warehouse. His voice makes you flinch and confirms the identity of who is behind you, holding the gun.

You're just thankful that Fisk is not actually pulling your hair off your scalp, just using it to hold you in front of him like a shield. 

It’s a statement. Take Fisk down and he might just pull the trigger, bringing you down with him. 

After a long moment of silence, Spider-man doesn’t reveal himself. Instead, he sends a rapid succession of webs towards Tattooed Thug, the momentum and webs adhering him to the wall. 

Your shoulders heave up and down, desperately chasing for a breath that you can't quite catch. This has to be the smallest you have ever felt in your life but you just wish you were smaller so you’d disappear entirely. 

Scar Guy’s gun whips in the direction of the hero the moment he drops to the ground. He doesn’t even flinch at being a target whereas you’re horrified. You’d only ever caught a glimpse of him from hundreds of feet away when you happened to be on the same street he was swinging through. 

Right now, Spider-Man hardly looks friendly. His hands shake, voice clear and threatening through the mask as he takes a few steps closer. It’s not close enough to comfort you. 

“Let her go or I’ll kill you.”

That’s it. That’s the threat.

Peter will make good on it.

So now Fisk has got to improvise which means applying a bit more pressure on you. 

“Give me the files and she’s all yours,” Fisk says with a nonchalance that feels sardonic given the circumstances. 

You’re too busy staring at the red and blue spandex clad figure standing ten feet away. 

Because you know that voice. 

You Know that voice because, before eight years ago, you had heard it everyday since you were nine. Which is impossible because that would mean that Spider-Man is…

“Peter?” 

His name falls from your lips so quietly, it’s practically just a breath, barely audible over the deafening silence ringing in your ears.

You realize who he is. Who he’s been this whole time and yet, you’ve never once made the connection. 

Some of the tension slips from his rigid stance at the sound of his name coming from your mouth, so softly you’re surprised he hears it. His eyes turn to you, or at least what would be his eyes behind the white lenses of the mask.

It’s clear from the wide eyed look on your face, lips parted and unmoving without the ability to formulate any words that you know. He’s okay with that, deep down; he knew you’d know but the way you’re looking at him… fuck, he somehow feels like a liar.

Peter has to clench his teeth hard enough to hurt when he takes note of the state you’re in. 

You're bleeding. There’s a scrape on your cheek and matching ones on both of your skinned knees. The back of your head has finally stopped bleeding, Fisk’s hand showing off the congealed blood in your hair at the base of your skull.

“You’re gonna be okay- alright? Everything’s going to be fine,” Peter forces out, praying it sounds reassuring.

It does. It’s enough to make your eyes well with tears, like the clouds outside that are fat with rain, waiting and waiting until they can’t hold off on letting them drop.

Now it all makes sense. 

Why he’d stolen it in the first place. How he’d refused to tell you anything more than that he did it to help people. What he was trying to say earlier when he came over before he had to rush off. 

That Peter Parker, your childhood best friend, was freaking Spider-Man. 

And clearly, Fisk does not care that you are making a life altering revelation that your childhood best friend is the one behind the mask of NYC’s most infamous hero. He gives your head a tug, pressing the barrel of the gun deeper into your temple so you flinch.

“The files Parker. Now,” Fisk grits out in warning that his patience is wavering. 

Peter’s face hardens into anger again. 

“Alright then- let her go,” Peter barks and the sharpness of his voice echoes around the eerie quiet of the warehouse. His emotions are evident in his body language along; his rage that someone laid a hand on you in his clenched fists, fear in the tautness of each muscle, and the urge to jump into action clear by the way he stands on the balls of his feet. 

The gun cocks for emphasis.

You flinch, squeezing your eyes shut like you're bracing yourself for what could happen next. You feel like you’re standing on the edge of a building blindfolded, teetering both directions without knowing if your misstep will send you tumbling to the roof or right to your death.

Peter tenses and a moment passes… 

“Peter, Peter,” Fisk tsks, like he is somehow disappointed that things had to come to this. That somehow it's Fisk’s arm that’s been twisted into breaking your arm and holding the gun to your head. “Please. I don’t want to hurt her. So just slide over the files and everyone wins.”

“Let her go first.”

“Do you look like you’re in a position to negotiate?” the crime boss chuckles. “Let me see the files and she walks out of here without a scratch.”

Peter stares back. He’s so still, he doesn’t even look like he’s breathing. Maybe he isn’t. You can’t really tell if you are either.

“I’ll give you the files, but if you come near her again, I’ll rip both you and these thugs apart without a second thought. That’s the deal.”

Fisk takes a moment to pretend to think like he’s just trying to draw out the moment.

“Deal.” He smiles and gives your head a little shake. “And if you ever take what belongs to me again, I’ll pay someone to rip her apart without a second thought.”

The manilla folder slides across the floor, slowing to a stop halfway between you and Peter. Kingpin doesn’t even need to pick it up himself.; not when Scar Guy is already moving for him so you can continue to be used as leverage. It’s the only way to keep the four criminals from immediately getting their asses pummeled into the cement. 

Scar Guy inspects the folder, thumbing through the file and checking that everything they were after is accounted for. You can’t help but hold your breath in the few moments it takes for him to look up and give Fisk a nod. That’s the signal for them to be done here. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Parker.”

Clearly, he and Peter have some sort of deal in place that keeps their anonymity. They both know what kinds of secret activities the other is involved in their free time and could easily expose the other. It just meant that the other would be exposed in the process.

Mutual black mail apparently keeps secret identities. 

Scar Guy speaks up from where he stands a few feet away, “What about them?” With a jerk of his head, he gestures to Red Hat and Tattooed Thug, both unconscious and incapacitated. 

“We’ll send someone to collect them later,” Fisk says without an air of concern. There’s nothing warm about the smile he gives Peter before adding, “Hurry up with your little reunion here. I’ll make sure that my men shoot first, ask questions later if there's anyone in here when they show.”

You gasp when Fisk drags you back a few steps, you feel lagging before they can comply. It’s only far enough so Scar Guy can place himself as a barrier between the hero and the villain so they can back towards the door. When your importance as a hostage and human shield has come to an end, Fisk drops you without a second thought. 

You manage to catch yourself on your hands and knees before you can collapse completely. Unfortunately, the reminder that your bone is broken comes as a blinding pain that shoots through your arm, making it crumple. It doesn’t take long for the rest of your body to follow until you’ve collapsed on your side. 

Fisk and Scar Guy are out of the warehouse without another word or glance behind them. They have what they came for. 

Peter doesn’t care about prolonging Kingpin’s presence. He’s rushing forward in an instant, dropping to his knees beside you. He doesn’t think twice about ripping off his mask and letting it fall to the floor. Not when he’s too busy slipping his arms under you to help you up so he can cradle your face in his hands. 

“Hey, hey,” he coos, his voice shaking and thumbs brushing away your tears that you just can’t hold in anymore. “You’re alright! Look at you. You’re okay. It’s done now.”  

You lean into his palms in the hope of overwhelming all of your senses with his touch. It sounds like he's trying to convince himself that you’re some semblance of ‘okay’ more than he’s trying to convince you.

“I’m sorry. I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid,” Peter repeats over and over. He smooths your hair from your face, inspecting the cut and bruise on your cheek. 

With a sniffle, you settle back into his arm wrapped around your waist because you don’t think you can keep yourself seated upright on your own. Every shift is agony before you manage to find some way to sit with your arm protectively cradled to your chest. 

It’s too quiet now, every tiny sound amplified and echoing through the too large space. Rain pelts against the roof and all you can smell is The Hudson and fresh earth. 

“I wanna go home,” you whimper, resting your forehead against his shoulder as he tries to soothe you.

You want to pretend none of this is real. That Peter isn’t actually Spider-Man, your arm wasn’t broken and the scariest thing that could ever happen, didn’t just happen. 

Peter nods instantly, like he’s just glad to finally hear your voice. You’re alive. Shaken and terrified and hurt, sure. 

But breathing and heart pumping? Absolutely. 

“We’re going to go home,” he agrees, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head so he can mumble into your hair. “And maybe never leave the house again? How does that sound?” 

Despite the fact that you’re crying, you almost laugh at that. 

Never leaving the house again sounds wonderful, even if impractical. 

“Can I take a look at your wrist?” 

As much as you don’t want to, you lift your head up while relying on the arm he has wrapped around you as support. You pry your own arm away from your chest, sniffling again when your face screws up in pain. Peter is intentionally delicate when he slowly pulls up your sleeve with one hand, the other holding your arm as lightly as possible.

Purple and blue blotch the circumference of your forearm, a pattern of Fisk’s fingerprints splayed on your skin.

Maybe you don’t know much about broken bones, but you and Peter had managed to break a few of them during your childhoods. Back then, they had been the result of stupid skateboard tricks or a mutual decision to hop the fence to Midtown Public Pool at midnight.

Tonight? Nothing about that felt childish.  

“Oh, god.” Peter’s breath catches in his throat. “I am so… so sorry, okay? This was never- this was never supposed to happen.”

 His thumb barely brushes against the irritated red encircling your wrist from the duct tape as he comes to the realization that you are actually injured. Gone is the irrational fear that would sometimes creep into the dark corners of his mind, filling it with fictitious ideas of something bad happening to you. 

It’s no longer fictitious or irrational, it’s him and it’s real. He’s the bad that happened to you. 

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ

The trip to the hospital? It sucked. 

You’d never had a particularly strong interest in being a passenger to Spider-Man and his web swinging. Flash, who was a pretty big fan of the friendly neighborhood hero, had led many debates on the topic; he thought it was awesome, Katie was afraid of heights, and you had no reason to want to be in a situation you needed rescuing from. 

So having to do so with a broken arm and bloody skull was particularly awful. 

You’re sure you would enjoy it more if you weren’t in excruciating pain.

Rain seeped into your clothes, plastering your wind whipped hair on your face that you kept buried in the crook of his neck.

Sure, maybe you like breathing in the smell of him too… and maybe you liked the warmth radiating from under his suit. 

Somehow you had managed to tell him to set you down outside the hospital and leave you there. He tried to shut it down instantly until coming to his senses. The last thing either of you needed was someone figuring out that the awkward guy that showed up after Spider-Man dropped you off at the nearest ED had the exact same voice and height.

It takes him longer than you expected to run off, change out of his suit, and return to the hospital. By the time he arrives, you’re tucked into the hospital bed, wet dress exchanged for a stiff hospital gown. Cold had seeped so deeply into your bones that the heated blanket was practically a gift from god, thawing the fear away. 

The nurse holds the door open for him, saying something that sounds too far away for you to grasp. She gestures for him to enter with a waive of her hand, his head dipping in thanks as she leaves. There's a quiet click as the door shuts but he doesn’t move closer. 

He takes a moment to rock back and forth on his feet, hands shoved deeply into his pockets. His uncertainty on how to proceed is evident from the corner of your eye.

“They said it might be an hour for an X-ray,” you mumble distractedly, too busy watching some rich house wife yell at another about sleeping with her husband on the TV. The quiet hum of the show, the scratchy sheets that are pulled up to your chin and your damp hair seeping into the pillows under your head are vague sensations.

Peter leans against the doorframe and watches you silently. The million emotions creating turmoil in his mind are summarized by a simple frown. Your injured arm is stabilized in some sort of temporary splint, keeping it immobilized until you can get down to radiology for an X-Ray. 

The sight of you safely tucked into the bed, your face somewhat cleaner and no danger pressing into your temple almost makes him laugh from how hard relief slams into him. 

Slowly, he lowers himself down on the edge of your bed once he’s made sure your legs are out of the way so he can be near you. You don’t flinch when he gently brushes your hair off your face so he lets his hand linger.

Not long, just enough to feel your life on your cheek so he can be sure you’re really there.  

“How are you holding up?” Peter whispers, his head tilting to the side. You can feel him studying you, looking for a single reason to panic or call for a nurse. Looking for something he can fix. 

“Honest answer?” you draw out, pausing to search for the answer. You scratch at your nose with your good arm, careful not to tug at the IV pumping you full of a steady stream of medications and fluids. 

“I think I’m in denial about the whole thing… plus, I think I’m super high.”

Your slurred words almost make him smile. Almost. Then the memory of your tear stained face and the panic in your eyes plagues his brain, making it slip right off his face. He might never find anything funny again after now that he’s seen that. He certainly won't ever forget it. 

“I’m pretty sure those painkillers are supposed to make you high, so you’re doing it right,” Peter whispers, still staring at you, his bottom lip nearly chewed to the point of bleeding. 

You just hum in response. Light from the TV flickers the shadows across your face, stretching the shapes around the room. The rain, steady beeping of the machines, and the quiet drone of the shitty reality TV show playing were eerily comforting. 

He lets out a long sigh while his hands fidget in his lap.

“I’m so damn sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry.” Looking at the ugly pattern of the hospital floor is easier than stomaching the sight of the little bandage on your cheek. The whole situation was so horrible earlier that he couldn’t help but be angry. 

Angry that you were put in this situation in the first place. Angry that someone used you to get to him.

Angry for the kiss he still can’t stop thinking about. Angry that you’re hurt.

Now that anger had soothed into a throbbing guilt, the kind that is so overwhelming, it feels like someone is sitting on his chest and suffocating him with a pillow.

You, on the other hand, are feeling pretty solid- or quite the opposite given the floating feeling in your extremities. The pain meds coursing through your system have dulled the throb in the back of your skull that’s been cleaned and sewed with two little sutures.

“I should have been there- should have never let this happen to you,” he adds, his voice cracking. His mouth snaps closed in an attempt to swallow down the guilt.

This finally makes you pull your eyes from the TV, the sound becoming background noise. Your head lulls to the side on the pillow, damp hair tickling your cheek so you can look at his side profile. 

For a long moment, you just mull over his apology. 

You know he���s sorry. How could he not be when you and his second and third interactions in the past eight years were being used as leverage by a criminal to get to him. But it’s more that you just know that his guilt is eating him alive without him even saying it.

Peter being the one behind Spider-Man's mask is another thing you can’t quite fit in the jumbled mess of your brain at this moment. 

“You kept digging then.” It’s not exactly a question or a statement, but it’s still a disappointment. “Fisks files… you gave them back but you’d already made copies-”

“I always make copies,” Peter mumbles sheepishly, slumping back in his chair but you continue a little sharper. 

“-so you could keep digging on whatever it is he’s doing even when he already made it clear for you to stop.”

All of the air rushes from his cheeks before he’s able to pick his eyes up from the tiled floor. Slowly, he nods because he has no right to defend himself. 

“Yeah- I was- I was trying to tell you. Tell you everything. I did,” he confirms. “After last week I realized just how important it was that I got them back…” Peter pauses, unsure how to continue.  “I needed them. So much is at stake.”

Your tired face twists up in a scowl and you’re unable to stop yourself from muttering,“Oh, really? So much is at stake? Never would've guessed.”

Peter presses his lips into a thin line but decides to let you have that given the circumstances. 

A quiet falls over the room, quietly accompanied by the petty problems of pretty people with too much money fighting on TV. Neither of you say anything for a long moment which gives you the chance to actually try and think. When you turn to actually look at him through tired eyes, he can’t help but look down, chewing on the inside of his cheek and waiting for your verdict. 

The fact he would put himself through so much danger, face down the most powerful and terrifying criminals and villains of all time to keep the world safe, all to protect people like you… that’s the problem. 

At least when he got his ass kicked by Flash, it was because Peter Parker was standing up for someone that needed it. Now, he hid behind some mask and was reduced to nothing more than spandex.

All of New York loved Spider-Man and would never want to see him hurt but… if the hero died, they’d get over it. 

If something happened to Peter Parker, you’d die. 

Spider-Man was for everyone, Peter was only for you. 

“You’ve always been like,” you murmur and look back to the TV so you can get comfortable.  “You’ve always been the one to stand up for people. Always getting yourself hurt to help others.”

The thick fog in your brain made your thoughts too sluggish to grasp. You are not going to be able to begin to unpack the events of the night when you feel like you’re floating above the hospital bed. Hell, you might never be able to unpack the fact that Peter was Spider-Man, even when you were sober and gone to therapy.

Peter practically holds his breath when you seem to sink deeper into the blankets and pillows. 

“Can we talk about it all later?” You sound more defeated than upset. 

A part of him really wants to argue but the sight of your bruised face sticking out from the scratchy sheets and your eyes falling closed stops him. Peter sighs, but relents, sinking back into the chair in both surrender and similar defeat. 

Something akin to peace settles over the space of the hospital room. 

Not for Peter, though, who can’t stop anxiously bouncing his leg up and down, shifting in his seat or finding a new position to worry his hands.

His guilt is nearly palpable and it’s stressing you out, even if he’s only visible on the edge of your peripheral. The cheap hospital chair is pulled up to the side of your bed so he can pretend to watch the TV, even when he’s only pretending so he can glance at you.

Just because it’s his fault doesn’t mean you want him to eat himself alive. 

He straightens when you jerkily try to tug your good arm out from under the covers, like he’s ready to jump in and help the second he notices a single sign you're in pain. You extend it to him, letting it hover weakly in the space between the two of you. His frown deepens before he understands, his face softening. 

An olive branch. 

You still haven't looked in his direction but he doesn’t seem to mind when it’s obvious you’re struggling to remain conscious. Peter scoots his chair towards your bed, leaning on the edge with his forearms and collecting your hand in his. 

His palm is warm in yours, shaky and gentle. When you give him a faint squeeze, he returns it wholeheartedly. 

Eventually, you fall asleep. 

Eventually, he does too.

[airaibunny]

mohyo x reader - “beginner’s luck” (warnings: smut, threesome, degradation, voyeurism, corruption[kinda?], oral)

a/n: i didn’t put dom/sub indicators because it kinda switches in the middle, so i didn’t know to label it!

word count: 2k

you and all of the girls are sitting in the living room, like a typical night at twice's dorm. chaeyoung and mina are all over each other as usual, and everyone else is just watching a show and relaxing, except for you. paying attention to anything isn't precisely simple when one of your girlfriends is next to you drawing circles on your thigh and the other is on the other side doing the same to your stomach. all of this combined with the fact that the only thing hiding it all is a blanket.

momo and jihyo know exactly what they’re doing, and what reaction they’re causing. you know this because they acknowledge each other by exchanging smirks and touching hands under the blanket.

"stop, please." you try to be as quiet as possible while saying this, but evidently fail given that nayeon responds.

"sana, stop trying to kiss her."

"i'm quite literally on the other side of the couch."

everyone giggles at sana’s response, except for you, who could now feel your girlfriends' hands rubbing your heat over your clothes.

"why didn't you laugh? you normally laugh at everything." momo says through a sarcastic smirk.

"come on momo, don't tease her like that," jihyo gets closer to your ear to deliver the rest of her remark "she's a sensitive girl." the words flowing out of her mouth only serve to make you positively wetter.

"fuck. your shorts are wet."

momo says in a low sultry voice that sends shivers down your spine.

"upstairs, please..." this is all you can get out without giving in to what’s happening and completely ignoring the fact that everyone else is here.

jihyo wastes no time stating that the three of you are tired and will just head up to bed early. all of the girls say ‘goodnight’ and think nothing of it, much to your delight.

momo barely pushes you in the room when she’s already instructing you to undress. you do as you’re told swiftly and sit on one of the beds, eagerly anticipating any kind of touch, from either of them. however, your desire won’t be fulfilled for some time.

"jihyo, darling, do you think our princess would like to get a show before we fuck her?"

"i think she'd love to."

they both smirk and you just continue getting wetter. you watch as jihyo and momo begin kissing each other and rubbing their bodies together. they make their way to the bed adjacent to you, all whilst never breaking contact. jihyo slips her hands under momo’s shirt and throws it on the floor, the rest of their clothes joining the pile in a few seconds.

"aww, look how she's blushing. she still gets so flustered watching us kiss." jihyo laughs while looking at you who’s dripping by this point.

"you’re so cute, princess," momo replies while looking at you and pushing jihyo down on her back. you watch as she slowly kisses her lips, gradually moving past her jawline, neck, and collarbone to finally arrive at the main attraction; her breasts.

"you have amazing tits." momo giggles and bends down to take one in her mouth. her lips mold around the nipple while she takes the other breast into her hand, squeezing and playing with it.

"shit. yeah...you've told me before." jihyo states in between breathy moans. momo keeps using her mouth on jihyo’s breast while shifting her hands to her thighs, roughly pushing them apart. she caresses her inner thighs, occasionally doing the same to her core.

you watch while squirming in your spot, drenching the bedsheets in your juices. watching them play with each other always has this effect on you. it feels somewhat pornographic, yet you know you’re the only one who gets to watch.

"momo stop being a fucking tease." jihyo grabs the japanese girl’s chin and orders in her face. "if that's what you want." momo slaps jihyo’s hand away and abruptly pushes two fingers into her, immediately speeding up without giving her a chance to adapt.

"ah, you're such a fucking bitch." you notice how jihyo’s remark makes momo gulp and nervously start shaking. she’s strong and is extremely dominant towards you, but when it comes to jihyo, she folds like a piece of paper.

"you like that, right? you like being treated like a slut, right, momo?" jihyo always manages to form perfectly coherent sentences while being stimulated, which is something neither momo nor you ever manage to achieve. this makes her all the more powerful in a sense, she’s untouchable, a leader on all fronts.

"answer me."

momo gulps again and tries her best to sound put together, even though she’s very visibly flustered, crumbling just because of a few words.

"yes." she swallows her pride and answers because she knows jihyo will completely stop calling her all those pretty names to punish her if she doesn’t. jihyo knows how to get exactly what she wants, which requires that she also know what makes the two of you crazy. there is no doubt about what that is for momo.

"don't change your pace, i’m so close.”

jihyo barely finishes her sentence before her hips buck and the knot in her stomach comes completely undone. the sight of this happening combined with the friction from the sheets under you nearly makes you cum on the spot. momo helps her ride out her orgasm completely and they finally acknowledge you for the first time since they began.

your mouth is open and you’re panting, completely engrossed in your two girlfriends.

"why are you out of breath, pretty girl? do we really make you that horny?” jihyo laughs and makes eye contact with momo who joins her.

“come." momo motions for you to join them in the other bed. you do as she says and sit in between them. they immediately begin placing kisses all over your body and touching your sensitive spots, making the river between your legs run quicker and further into the sheets.

“lay on momo while i go down on you, okay?" momo begins pulling you to her chest without waiting for your answer, but you make her stop.

"are you okay, pretty girl? did we do something?"

"no, it's not that, i just um..."

jihyo raises her eyebrows at you and nods her head, signaling for you to go on. they always do this, even if they already know what you want, they make you say it out loud.

“i want to, uh..." you look down at momo’s lap, struggling to give a verbal answer. you can see the realization in jihyo’s eyes as she looks where your eyes are fixed. she smirks at momo who immediately gets the message as well.

"can i please..."

jihyo rolls her eyes. "speak, or nothing will happen."

"can i eat one of you out?" you feel the blood rush to your cheeks as soon as you admit what you want out loud. the sudden warmness makes you impulsively bury your face into jihyo’s chest and clutch momo’s hand for comfort.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, pretty girl." jihyo smiles and lifts your face up while momo places her hand on your thigh.

"you can do whatever you want, but do you know how?" momo cups your face with her hand while still touching your thigh with the other.

"i can just try to do what you guys do to me."

"that’s cute," jihyo smiles "go ahead."

she motions for momo to lay down and pushes her legs open. she then brings you in between momo’s legs and positions herself beside you, ready to instruct you if you need any help.

you lower yourself to momo’s core and notice how wet she is. your breathing hinders as you realize what you’re about to do. even though jihyo and momo have been together for a long time, you have only been dating them for a few weeks, so you’ve only had sex a few times. whenever you’ve done anything, you’ve always been on the receiving end, so this is the first time they’re letting you do anything.

you pull yourself out of your thoughts and look up at jihyo, waiting for her approval to go on. she looks at momo and then back at you, giving you a nod.

with jihyo and momo’s consent, you finally put your lips on momo’s skin. you kiss her abdomen while trailing your hands across her inner thighs, mimicking what you watched her do to jihyo.

"your skin feels soft." you pull away from your indulgence to tell her your thoughts and she answer in form of a breathy laugh. you waste no time going back to your previous task, dragging your tongue across her skin while moving lower. when you’re about to reach her folds, you stop yourself. you remember how much jihyo and momo tease you while doing this, so you skip past it and move to her inner thighs. they both notice what you’re doing, but one of them seems to be more impressed than the other.

“you’re so good at this already.” jihyo runs her fingers through your hair with the compliment, you smile. you keep kissing momo’s inner thighs, leaving sloppy kisses and bite marks behind you. momo is already a moaning mess, which means you’re doing a great job.

"you’re doing great." jihyo remarks toward momo while holding onto her hand. after you’re sure you’ve teased momo enough, you direct your mouth to her dripping wetness. you start with one long, continuous lick from the bottom to the top of momo’s heat. a deep moan escapes her lips, making you even more excited. you start moving your tongue in every direction, completely coating her in your saliva.

momo’s moans get louder and louder as you play with her clit, circling your tongue around it and sucking it like the sweetest candy. you can hear a string of degradations falling from jihyo’s lips as you continue eating momo like it’s your last meal.

"she’s doing so great, don’t you think momo? do you want to tell her?” you look up to see jihyo smirking at you. for the first time ever, you seem to develop the same telepathy her and momo seem to have, so you stop what you’re doing for a second.

“c’mon, please tell me i’m doing a good job.” you smirk as well, quickly going back to making momo an incoherent mess with your tongue. you hear a few incomprehensible words coming of momo’s mouth, which you assume is her attempt at a reply.

"y/n," jihyo pauses until you look at her "stop, if she isn’t telling you you’re doing a good job, than she must not like it."

"no!” momo shouts a plea at you, putting her hands on your head to hold you in place.

"you’re doing a-" momo’s sentence is interrupted by an unrelentingly loud moan, so loud you’re scared the others might have heard. her grip on your hair tightens and you’re suddenly overwhelmed by how much of her arousal is coming out of her entrance. you drink every last bit of it, momentarily forgetting to breath in the process. jihyo talks you through how to help her completely finish while kissing momo’s cheek and telling her to take deep breaths. you finally come up, licking your lips and smiling.

momo sits up-still somewhat out of breath-and finally lets go of jihyo’s hand after squeezing it the entire time.

"fuck, you were so amazing, princess. i’m sorry i couldn't get that out earlier."

momo pulls you in for a kiss and then does the same with jihyo, who then then pulls you in for a kiss.

"you're not getting away with that. you were quite rude earlier, just ignoring mine and y/n’s request." jihyo bites the corner of her lip and lifts her eyebrows. momo’s mouth opens to say something, but she doesn’t manage to get anything out.

"oof, good luck with that." you jokingly state smiling at momo. you look back at jihyo, expecting her to be smiling as well, but are surprised to see how mischievous she looks.

"hey pretty girl, do you want to help me punish momo?"

[sugahbunnies]

BUCKET LIST ☆ 11

He's been avoiding you.

Kusuo Saiki, the one who has been attached to you by the hip, not willingly but forcefully, is avoiding you. The one who has been obsessively worried about you for the past few weeks, is avoiding you. The boy who you claim as your best friend and you really hope he sees you in the same light, is avoiding you.

You've been ripping out your hair is frustration, looking for opportunities to swoop in and apologize to Saiki but anytime he even sees a glimpse of you, he turns the other way. Even at the cafeteria table, it is so painfully obvious he avoids eye contact with you even though you sit across from him. He’s so good at making you feel like you never mattered to him.

You sit slumped up on your chair, twirling your pencil between your fingers as you bore your eyes on Saiki’s face. He is looking straight toward the board and tapping his fingertips on the desk, like he did back in the hospital three days ago.

Wait .. has it been three days since he’s been ignoring you? There is no way, he couldn’t go longer than three days can he? You did not know Saiki was so stubborn, but then again it made sense. Hiding your condition from him has only made things worse, and you’re honestly thinking if you should just tell him. It’s not like you’re dying, right? No, of course not. It won’t hurt to tell him, knowing your illness is pretty neutral in severance. Or that is what your doctor told you. Although, you can feel your symptoms worsening. The bruises have multiplied and honestly, it’s disheartening to see how they go from purple to yellow tints. You have been taking your pills and supplements, but what good is it if you’re still losing chunks of thinning hair? You’ll have to take blood tests again in order to figure if your anemia is getting better. Being fatigued and in risk of bleeding to death? Not so bad. That is what you think.

You rip a piece of notebook paper and write down in big lettering, “can we talk? :(“. You make sure to add that frowny face at the end to ensure that his heart will at least waver a bit. You wait until the teacher has her back to the class and slip the paper onto his desk. You smile awkwardly as he pauses for a second, and you feel hope as he picks it up and reads it. Your heart skips a beat and you lean forward to see his reaction. He turns his head and stares at you with such piercing eyes it could've stabbed you right in the heart. He scrumbles up the paper in his palm and throws it at the space between your eyebrows with accuracy. You tilt your head back in surprise, a faint "What?" coming out of your mouth as the paper falls to your feet. Saiki side eyes you with obvious anger radiating off his body. He then focuses on the teacher upfront, scribbling in his notebook.

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, did he really ignore you? Your lip begins to tremble and you just hope you don't start weeping like a baby during class. You clench your fists and slump in your seat, glancing at the clock and seeing the end of the day is coming soon.

As soon as the teacher dismisses the class, Saiki shoves all his materials inside his backpack. You hover over his desk, words struggling to come up from your throat. He gets up and almost bumps heads with you, he visibly sighs and roughly brushes shoulders with you. You look back with a swift movement of your head, seeing him walk out and ignoring Nendou and Kaidou who attempted to talk to him.

Kaidou notices you standing with defeat, and walks over to you with a concerned look. "Why is he upset?" Kaidou pleads with puppy eyes and all, his hand reaching up and resting on your shoulder. You shake your head in hesitation, feeling your throat drying up.

"I'm not sure .. I think I'm going to go to walk home alone okay?" You inform, staring down at the ground as speeding out of the class as quickly as possible. You hear Nendou and Kaidou call out your name but you decide to ignore them. You need time to organize your emotions.

The way home was pretty fast, as your steps quicken as every feeling in your body seems to get worse. You fall onto the pavement in front of the door to your house, wincing as the cement scrapes up your knees in small cuts. You struggle to sit up right, putting a hand to your chest and having trouble breathing.

Panic attack? No way..

You look up to the sky and see the clouds gathering up, a disgusting color of gray splattered over. You feel a tightening sensation in your throat and begin choking up. Gasping for air, you go on your knees and hands. You begin seeing blurriness and smushed colors.

"Kusuo" You manage to choke out. Your desperation for air increases as you genuinely start feeling yourself hyperventilate. You crawl onto the clean cut grass, falling to your side and a knot in your stomach appears to twist. You push your knees up to your chest, attempting to take control of your breathing. The blurriness of vision still remains. Your thoughts are absolutely scrambled right now and everything seems to be spinning. Your heart is completely racing and you are trembling.

You stay still for what seems an eternity. The anxiety running through your veins as you try to focus on the flowers sprouting across the front yard. You gasp, the sensations of your body parts coming back. Your eyes try to decipher the objects in front of you and you realize you can see clearly now. You take deep breaths and making sure it reaches the end of your ribs. Sitting straight up on the itchy grass, you place your arms in your lap. You stare straight on, realizing something that gave you a fuzzy feeling.

You said Saiki's first name.

Well, that's normal right? In a moment of desperation, you called out his name as if he would come help you. He's your best friend so it only makes sense? So nothing else would be rational. It's not like you think of him in a different way.. right?

You reach inside your backpack and take out the Peter Pan book that Saiki had annotated for you. You flip through the pages, noticing how his handwriting went from neat to messier as each page went. Did he really read this in one sitting?

A smile creeps up onto your face, seeing the mini sketches he did on the sides. A two headed bunny, a pink cow and a person.. who oddly looks like you. Your smile falls as soon as you realize you are enjoying this way too much.

"Ah! Y/n get it together!". You get on your feet and slide the window open to your house. The front door is jammed, pretty inconvenient huh? You plop down on the couch, racking your brain as to what you are going to do about the silly boy you call your friend.

You get what he is mad, it all makes sense. It must be frustrating seeing your best friend who you just met four months ago rapidly becoming sick. It's not like its a terminal illness, or so thats what your doctor says. You actually have an appointment tomorrow and hopefully your blood tests came out well. It won't turn out bad, you know it won't.

☆

You stand in front of the clinic you have been going to for the past nine months. Since last night, you could not shake off the nervous feeling that something bad might happen. I mean already being diagnosed with this illness was a hit to the head. The doctor had told you that you're not at a severe stage right now. So, you shouldn't be worried, right?

You breathe out, a puff of cold air visible in front of you. Sitting in the lobby always gave you the worst rollercoaster of emotions. It was mostly middle aged to older people that you encountered in this lobby. You are quite young and experiencing such a crisis ? It's unfair and you start to think wow, I have the worst luck.

"Y/n?".

You break away from your thoughts and see the same doctor assistant as always. His name is Sato? You're not sure, you never really paid attention to anything as you were always worried things have gotten worse. You flash him a faint smile and follow him into the brightly lit room.

After endless questions, he leaves and you patiently wait for Suzuki to come in. You actually remember your doctors name since she has freakishly long hair that you wish you had. You hear the door creak and she comes in, her hair waving side to side. Your mouth twitches in jealously, leaning against the seat and smiling in a fake manner.

"What's up?" You question in curiosity, and see a thick pile of papers in her hands. You tilt your head in slight confusion, usually she only has five or so papers clutched in her hands. Now, its much more than that. You hold up your finger and aim it towards her, you utter a terrified "Uhm".

"Listen Y/n, your blood tests show uhm.. worsening of your symptoms and I think.." She trails off, her eyes shifting to the ground.

"You think what?" You ask breathlessly, your breath hitching in your throat as she offers you a dreadful look.

"I think your condition is turning critical, well it is critical and I think we need to put you in intensive care".

You shake your head and you feel your body beginning to tremble. You point at her in a rude manner, your words coming out slurred and incoherent.

"You will not! And I mean it when I say you will not put me in there, I am not that sick!". You're now desperately jabbing your own finger at yourself, tears running down your cheeks. You took all those pills and supplements everyday .. for nothing? You did what the doctor told you to do and yet you got worse?

You drop to the floor, grabbing fistfuls in your hair and hiccuping on your tears. She kneels down and pats your head lightly.

"I'll leave you alone for a bit, I'll be back and we can decide something together okay?". She quietly closes the door behind you. Scooting up to the corner of the room, you push your knees up to your chest and sob uncontrollably.

"Kusuo" You cry out, punching a fist into your chest as you wish your best friend was here.

You need him and he's not here with you now, you really hate how attached you got to him. He's everything you needed in your life as your parents never were home. You really need Saiki right now.

"Kusuo" You whisper, tracing lines onto the walls. You feel your fingers shake as you begin to stare into the void.

"Please forgive me".

[slayfics]

Hey again! I've returned with another fanfic request :D

So, I've been rewatching mha, and I got to the kidnapping part, and that got me thinking for fic ideas!

The reader ended up getting kidnapped by the league (along with bakugo), and the rescue team went after them (all like in the anime). Could you do shoto's reaction to all of that and the Aftermath once they're all living in the dorms? It could be really sweet and fluffy with a little bit of angst (flashbacks from shoto's pov??)

I've said this before, and I'll say it again, I adore all of your work, and I will support you till the day I die!!

Shoto rescues you from the League of Villains.

Shoto sat on the train, his mind haunted by the last time he saw you. The League of Villains had kidnapped you along with Katuski, your face was painted with terror when they pulled you into the wrap gate. The rest of your classmates being unable to reach you or Katsuki in time.

"Hey man, don't look so worried. We will get them back." Eijiro spoke, sitting next to Shoto on the train. A few of your classmates had devised a plan to sneak out and try to rescue you and Katsuki.

"I know we'll try our best," Shoto said, looking out the window of the train, his expression reflected in the window giving Eijiro a mirrored image of his distress.

"I'm sure they are doing fine, they are tough. Plus Bakugo's there too and you know firsthand how strong he is," Eijiro said, still trying to soothe Shoto.

However, at Bakugo's name, Shoto's face gave a wince.

"Yeah," he replied.

Eijro's face fell a bit realizing he wasn't helping much at easing his friend's worries. The only thing stopping him from trying again was Momo going over a rescue plan with everyone on the train.

Shoto and the other students who had come on the secret rescue mission followed Momo's proposed plan. Even as far as disguising themselves in ridiculous outfits. Momo's plan included following her tracker that she had placed on one of the villains to check out and see if you or Katsuki were there or any other information leading to your whereabouts.

Following Momo's tracker had led them to a building just outside of town. Eijiro had come prepared with night vision goggles, allowing them all to get a better look inside the building. However, this only revealed the location of several stowed Nomo. You and Katsuki were nowhere in sight.

The next occurrence left all of your classmates shaking and paralyzed with fear. The villain All For One appeared just meters away from where everyone was hiding. Soon followed by the other League of Villains members, Katsuki, and you.

Not soon after All Might had appeared on the scene and began battling with All For One. Shoto and the rest of the classmates that came were frozen with fear, unable to move. While each of them knew something had to be done, it was unclear as to what.

Seeing Shoto's visceral reaction and instinctive drive to go to you, Tenya grabbed his arm and held him back. Tenya knew it was too dangerous to move in without a plan. Luckily Midoriya, like always, devised a plan that allowed for him, Eijiro, and Tenya to make it across the battlefield and rescue Katuki. This distraction leaving the villain dumbfounded watching their escape through the sky gave Shoto the perfect opening to call for you.

Stunned at seeing your classmates fly through the sky like a shooting star giving Katskui an escape, you almost missed Shoto calling for you to join him and Momo down the alleyway.

You ran to him quickly once you realized.

"This way!" Shoto yelled at you.

You ran to him and Shoto roughly grabbed your wrist, pulling you to run. The three of you ran until you were sure you were far enough away from the villains. You all stopped at the commotion in town watching the news broadcast of the fight. Your adrenaline began to run off after you were safe and you looked down to realize Shoto was still holding onto your wrist.

"Oh sorry," he said, noticing and letting go. A blush might have made its way to your face if you weren't so overwhelmed with the situation.

The rest of the events went by in a blur. Now you found yourself carrying your belongings inside the UA common room seeing the news broadcast replay in your mind. You all watched All Might take down One For All on the news broadcast in town that night before making it back to your homes safely. A few days later Aizawa made an appearance at your home proposing all the students move into dorms to keep them safe.

It took some convincing but you finally were here moving your things to your dorm room.

"That looks heavy, do you want help?" You heard a voice call. You turned around to see Shoto placing his own belongings on the floor.

"Uh sure," You responded, and Shoto picked up your oversized box of belongings. "Lead the way."

You walked with Shoto to the elevator pressing your floor level on the elevator.

"How have you been fleeing?" He asked as the elevator started its ascent.

"Ok, happy to be here at UA again," You said trying to keep a joyful smile. The truth was you had been having nightmares every night about the incident.

"Well, I'm happy you are safe and in good health," He responded.

The elevator door opened and you both stepped out as you led Shoto to your dorm.

"It's this one," You said, opening the door.

"If there are any other heavy boxes don't be afraid to come get me," He said, dropping the box on the floor.

"Thank you, I appreciate it... and um... thank you for coming to rescue me that night. I never did get a chance to tell you that," You replied.

"Of course, I was only able to because of Yaoyorozu. Back at the summer camp, she placed a tracker on one of the villains," Shoto explained.

"Oh," You exclaimed, feeling our stomach turn a bit at the sound of Shoto mentioning her name. "I'll be sure to thank her too," You said looking at the floor.

Shoto nodded, "You have been doing okay since then though? I know that must have been pretty traumatic being being kidnapped by villains," Shoto said, a worried expression plaguing his face.

"I'm fine, don't worry. Besides, it was hard to be scared with all of Bakugo's yelling about how he was going to murder every last one of them," You laughed and tried to brush off Shoto's concern.

Shoto having his own reaction to you mentioning Katsuki averted his gaze from you, "Right... well, let me know if you need any more help." He said as he made his way out of your room.

"Todoroki wait!" You called as he stepped into the hallway. Shoto turned back around with a curious look on his face.

"Um.. thank you again," You nervously spat out as you hurriedly stepped forward to wrap your arms around him bringing him into a hug. Your face buried in Shoto's chest kept you from seeing the bright red shade his face turned as he awkwardly wrapped his arms around you for just a moment before pulling away.

"Of course," he responded, voice deviating ever so silently from his usual cool tone. "Good luck with the rest of moving, don't over-exert yourself." He said as a soft smile spread on his lips before he swiftly exited unsure of how to process your sudden affection.

Thank you for the request and your continued support! My first time writing for Shoto- I tried to do my best! I hope you enjoy it~

Tags~

@unofficialmuilover

[specialinterestshows]

De-stress and re-stress in this latest chapter of my Rhea Ripley x lady!reader fic, Absolute Smokeshow.

Warnings for this section: Anxiety, dirty talk, spanking, teasing, tickling, tearing of clothes, praise, biting, choking, collaring, possessive sex, parasocial interactions, social anxiety

-

Absolute Smokeshow (Part 76 of ?): Dom Dom

The next morning, you said your goodbyes, called out of work, and filled your tank with gas before starting your long trek back home. Merging onto the highway, you hummed along to the music to try and shake your anxiety about having used your last sick day when you weren’t even sick.

The drive back would take most of the day, meaning you couldn’t ease your anxiety in the usual way. As the road stretched out in front of you, you decided it was best to occupy your thoughts with something less stressful; and what better way than remembering what you did last night?

-

“So, NXT North American Champion: how do you really want to celebrate?” Rhea had asked Dom as soon as the three of you were back at the hotel.

He looked away, blushing already, and muttered something neither one of you heard.

“Speak. Up.” Rhea’s tone was firm.

“I… I want, um, both of you to dom me,” he admitted, causing an immediate wordless exchange between you and Rhea.

She raised an eyebrow: “You up for it?”

You smiled shyly and nodded: “I want to, but I might need a little help.”

Dom missed your silent conversation entirely, looking back to see the both of you smiling.

“I think we should have our little boytoy do a striptease for us,” your girlfriend suggested with a smirk, looking your way, “Don’t you?”

“He’s so shy,” you respond, carefully gauging his reaction, “How do we know he’ll do it?”

“Easy: we don’t let him come unless he puts on the best show he can for us,” Rhea chuckled, watching Dom start to get hard before finally addressing him directly, “That means lap dances too, bitch.”

“Yes, Mami,” he breathed before turning to look at you, “And, uh, what should I call you?”

Rhea turned to await your response as well.

Not many titles sprang to mind, but there was one that seemed comfortable the more you thought about it.

“Call me Mistress.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Dom replied excitedly.

“Well don’t just stand there,” Rhea told him, tapping her phone to turn on slow, sultry music, “Strip.”

Dom still seemed hesitant, face turning red, so you decided to encourage him. You stood, reaching out and grabbing his hand to help pull him up to his feet as well.

“We all know you look better without any clothes,” you said, grabbing onto his vest roughly, “Don’t keep us waiting.”

“Yes, Mistress, sorry, Mistress,” he replied, trying to hurriedly remove his clothes when you let go before Rhea stopped him.

“Slowly,” she ordered, moving his hips to the beat for him before he took over, “There’s my good boy.”

Watching Dom strip, you were surprised when Rhea gently pulled you down onto the bed to sit next to her. She gave you a kiss and you giggled, watching her coax a now half-naked Dominik toward the two of you with one finger.

“Show your Mistress what you can do,” Rhea instructed, giving his ass a hard slap as he turned to straddle you.

Dom getting flustered and blushing was something you had grown to expect - but what you didn’t realize was that you were now in that same position, unsure whether or not you should touch him or where as your face grew steadily warmer.

Noticing your pause, Dom gingerly lifted your hands and set them on his chest as his slight muscles continued to ripple with the movement of his torso. You slid one hand over to play with his nipple as the other moved down and traced the words inked across his rib cage. He whimpered at the pinch and then giggled at the light touch down his side.

“Oh, are you ticklish there?” you ask, pulling your hand back as he instinctively covers his tender skin, and adjusts his underwear, as you smirk, “Good to know.”

“Mami’s turn,” Rhea giggles, snapping the elastic on Dom’s boxers and watching him jump.

Before he could move onto her lap himself, she had grabbed and lifted him onto her with one fluid motion, as if he didn’t weigh a thing. Marveling at your girlfriend’s strength, you watched Dom try to give her a lap dance while she ran her tongue up his chest before sucking and biting on his nipples.

Her need to dominate him was carnal and you were practically drooling watching the two of them. A small, involuntary moan escaped your lips when you watched Rhea rip and tear his underwear off, teeth sunk deep into Dom’s shoulder as he whimpered frantically.

“Good boy,” she growled, shoving him down onto the bed, “Now let your Mistress enjoy you while Mami gets her strap.”

Looking up at you, Dom laid naked and awaiting your orders - or perhaps simply your touch. Before anything else, you remove your clothes, relishing the way he watched you. Then, pinning both hands above his head, you straddle and grind against him, leaning in for a kiss. Your other hand closes around his throat, making him moan and whine against your lips.

“You’re so much fun to play with pretty boy,” you whispered into Dom’s ear, giving his throat a squeeze before releasing him to hear his reply.

“Thank you, Mistress.”

“Mami’s back,” Rhea sang, elongating the last word. Turning around, the sight of your girlfriend wearing nothing but a strap-on greeted you, making you forget for a moment that you were domming. The items in her hand barely registered until she addressed you.

“Put this on him,” Rhea said, handing you Dom’s collar, “Keeps him deep in sub space.”

You nodded, doing as she suggested. Dom raised his head off the bed to let you secure the collar, looking deep into your eyes as he did. The change when you collared him was immediate, his expression relaxing, eyes dizzy with desire.

A squelch made you turn to Rhea again as you held Dom by the ring in his collar. Lube glistened on the tip of her strap and the palm of one hand as she closed the bottle with the other.

“Make room for Mami on the bed, darling,” Rhea told you, smile widening at the noise he made when you pulled Dom up as well.

Your girlfriend was sat down on the bed, ordering Dom to come closer. Once he was within arm’s reach, Rhea made him turn around before gently applying the lube and stretching him out with her fingers. Dom squirmed and whined as you approached him, slowly pressing your naked body against his when you leaned in to kiss Rhea.

“Now, Dom-Dom, be a good boy and sit on my strap,” she commanded as soon as her lips were free again, “Take it as deep as it’ll go.”

“Yes, Mami,” he whimpered as she removed her fingers, wiping them off on his discarded shirt.

The ease with which Dom took the toy inside of him was impressive as he bit his lip, slightly muffling the noises he made as he followed orders. Rhea had her strap buried deep inside him rather quickly.

“Your ass is mine,” she growled in his ear, “But your Mistress is going to be fucking you too” - she spoke to you now - “Go ahead and sit on his pathetic little dick; we’re going to use this fucktoy the way he was meant to be used.”

Rhea leaned back on her elbows as she watched you approach. You had the lube with you, squirting a bit in your hand to make sure Dom was slick enough. He whined at your touch, then louder when you turned around and teased him with a bit of grinding before taking all of him inside you.

Once you started riding Dom, Rhea began thrusting, creating a ripple effect with the momentum she gathered until you barely had to move your hips anymore.

“Mami… Mistress… You both feel… so good,” Dominik moaned underneath you.

Trying to keep your balance, you reached out on either side of you; one hand finding Rhea’s and the other touching Dom’s as the three of you continued undulating together with every thrust Rhea gave.

“Are you going to come for us, love?” she asked Dom as his moans grew more desperate.

A gentle caress of your hip.

Nails digging into your skin.

You stopped keeping track of who was doing or saying what, lost in how good you felt until you came, hard.

-

Once the roads and signs became more familiar, you started to feel the many miles you’ve traveled and few stops you’ve taken in your aching muscles. When you finally pulled up to your building, a wave of anxiety hit as you remembered one of the comments you had read the other day.

“I think she lives in my same apartments?”

You parked and shut off your car as quickly as you could, double-checking to make sure the doors were locked and headlights were off before scanning the parking lot and nearby apartments for movement. Seeing none, you popped open your glove compartment and pulled out the cloth mask you kept inside. Once your mask was secure, you felt your way through your bag, hands closing around a hat that would hopefully also help hide your identity.

The hasty disguise would have to do, you thought as you glanced at your reflection in the rear view mirror.

The sound of your own footsteps startled you in your paranoia as you hurried from your car to your door, luggage in tow.

Once you were at your door, you fumbled with your keys, dropping them in your hurry. Cursing your nerves, you bent over to pick up your keys. A jolt of fear coursed through you when you suddenly heard someone laughing. Your first instinct was to freeze, but the laughter turned to talking as the voice approached.

You let your muscle memory take over, unlocking the door and pulling in your bags before closing and locking the door. Listening as intently as you could with your rapid heartbeat pounding in your ears, you caught a bit of the conversation as whoever it was passed by.

“Come on, what are we even doing here? Just because she’s dating her, doesn’t mean Rhea is going to be hanging out around here.”

You felt lightheaded.

Maybe you should find another place to stay for a while, you thought, trembling as you slid the deadbolt shut.

[end part seventy-six of ?]

Part 77: “Un Poco De Azúcar”

-

Tag list (thank you!)

@littlemiss-fanficlover , @babybatlover , @girlofpink , @kagome2909 , @domripley , @wiccanpriestess , @falloutboy-lover , @aut0luminescence , @riverina69 , @itsrheasgirl , @1-800-sinister , @ripleylove , @beeposts

[virgilphobic]

why does edwin gasp after he looks at charles for a long time?

my thoughts;

(this is simply me running my mouth and yes i’m reading into this too much i’m just bored.)

edwin and niko had a conversation earlier on in the series, in which niko ultimately told edwin that two boy’s can indeed like each other. No one had probably ever said that to edwin before, because when he was alive there was no one on his side, like niko, to do that. he also didn’t quite know when he was alive, but after he spent so much time with charles (roughly 3 decades because on the dbd door it says ‘est. 1990.’ yay.) he had probably felt some feelings that he had pushed down due to edwin not understanding them. he clearly has emotional response issues, and we can tell through his coarse, but direct and statistical way of talking. his interactions with the cat king also stir up more conflict within him, and by the third episode of the series there are more signs that edwin does indeed love charles. even if he himself isn’t 100% sure.

edwin’s interaction with the cat king in episode three is a rather rousing one. edwin falls into his presence and finds himself getting closer and closer towards the cat king. the cat king first transforms to monty, but he doesn’t get the response from edwin that he would like. who does give him the reaction he would like? charles. from the few interactions that charles and edwin have had with the cat king, he can tell that charles seems to pull at edwin’s heart strings more than anyone. edwin leans into the embrace of the faux-charles, before he rips himself back and comes back to his senses. he felt safe with the image of charles, even if he knew it wasn’t him. even if it was just for a moment, he let his guard down. it just felt better to be treated that way by some version of charles than by no version of him at all.

the interaction leaves edwin frazzled, to say the least, and when he re-groups with the rest of the team, he is ever-so-slightly shaken up. he looks at charles as he speaks with crystal, and there is a sense of longing and yearning to his gaze. the world around him shifts to a tunnel vision of just charles. i can only assume that the images of the cat king came across his mind as he looked upon him, and he tuned out momentarily. he clearly doesn’t mean to do so, as seen in the gasp he lets out after charles calls for him, and edwin awkwardly responds / changes the subject before going to sit by the star fish with niko. i think he liked the interaction with the cat king more than he would like to admit deep down.

[luvxiem]

luca and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day (until it wasn't)

##INFO

luca kaneshiro x gn!reader, fluff, attempt at humor 💔 mild angst (??) suggestive themes at the end, established relationship except nobody thinks it's real LMFAOOOO, college au, they go to school in the us for this just pretend they r all cool foreign students minus shu (he's still cool even if he is american)

word count: 3.1k

##SUMMARY

vox, mysta, shu, and ike haven't met luca's partner because they live in canada, duh! what? of course they're real?? he's not lying this time, he swears! they really are real!!!!

“i’m fucking tired, dude.”

a dark backpack drops roughly to the ground as its owner soon follows suit, the lanky compsci major sitting with a sigh as he shoves his phone into his brother’s face. shu hurriedly swallows his rice and almost chokes in the process while leaning away from the sudden bright screen in front of him. after pounding his chest with his fist a couple times to dislodge a few grains, he realizes that mysta’s phone was open to an instagram post of a couple.

ike leans over to look at the post as well with a raised eyebrow.

“it’s just fulgur and uki?” he questions, staring at his friend. mysta raises his head from where he laid spread-eagle on the grass to glare at him.

“just fulgur and uki,” mysta mocks, dropping his head back onto the ground and reaching up to cover his face with one arm. “everywhere i look is just couples! everywhere! i can’t escape them, man,” he bemoans. ike rolls his eyes and returns to his lunch, used to his friend’s antics. shu glances between the two of them in between bites of his own food, gently nudging a bento toward his distressed brother. mysta grunts in thanks before pushing himself up to sit cross-legged, eagerly lifting the lid of the bento and digging into his food.

"don't cry just because you can't any bitches," a smug voice calls. the trio looks up to see the arrival of vox, the drama major carrying his blazer hooked over his shoulder.

there's a prominent hickey on his neck. mysta's eye twitches.

"shut the fuck up," he grumbles as vox ruffles his hair endearingly before sitting down beside him.

"being single is ok too, ya know," vox sympathizes, knowing that his friend was feeling left out of the recent romantic festivities. "you don't need to be in a relationship to be happy."

shu nods at his words, ever the agreeable one of their friend group. ike pauses mid bite before resuming his meal, not giving any reaction to what vox said. he wasn't about to admit that he's been salty at seeing all the other couples as well. vox notices mysta is still feeling a bit bummed, however, since the shorter man hasn't spoken much since he arrived.

"hey," vox grins, nudging him with his fist. "what if i set you up with an acquaintance of mine?" he offers. mysta glances up at him with mild interest, but before he could respond, the final member of their group comes barreling down the sidewalk with a wide smile, clutching his beanie with one hand and waving enthusiastically with the other.

"hey guys!" luca beams, patting vox's shoulder before plopping down, closing their little circle on the grass. "what were you talking about?" the blonde takes out a sandwich from his bag and looks at the others expectantly. vox smirks as the other three inwardly sigh.

"since i'm the only one who had a valentines this year and being the generous friend that i am, i've decided to set up mysta with a friend of mine," he explains rather proudly. now, vox was expecting a few responses from luca—perhaps an understanding nod, a wail of jealousy, even an aversion to the topic in general—but instead of any of that, the blonde tilts his head in confusion and opens his mouth to speak.

"i had a valentines too, though?"

shu actually chokes on his food this time, ike hurriedly offering him his water bottle and pounding his back to dislodge the shit stuck in his throat. vox was staring at luca in disbelief, mouth opening and closing not unlike that of a fish. mysta, however, throws his head back and starts laughing loudly.

"yeah, right," he cackles, shaking his head before looking back up at his friend. "you're even worse than me when it comes to dating!" luca frowns at him this time.

"i'm being serious! that's why i was busy yesterday, we’ve been together for a few months now-“

"then why haven't you ever talked about them?" mysta accuses. luca shrugs helplessly.

"well, you—you never asked!" vox glances between the two of them before settling on the blonde.

"do you have any pictures of them?" he asks, wanting to give luca the benefit of the doubt even if he didn't actually believe him.

"ok so, y'know how i like, i broke my phone last week? while riding my uh, my bike?" the four nod. "well, i didn't back up my phone and i lost all my photos." mysta's eye twitches once again.

"do they even go to UCI?" shu wonders aloud now that he wasn't at risk of asphyxiation. ike nods in agreement, genuinely curious as well. it’s not that he didn't—no. that's a lie. he didn't believe his friend as much as he wanted to. listen, this was the guy who was locked in a closet with a girl he liked for over ten minutes and didn't even do anything! forgive him for having his doubts!

"no, they live in canada." luca fidgets in place as four pairs of eyes stare at him with clear skepticism. "i'm serious!"

the group looks at each other and comes to a collective agreement.

"luca," ike says hesitatingly. "you don't have to lie to us." vox pats his shoulder comfortingly and nods.

"yeah, big guy. it really is ok if you're single on valentine's day. the whole thing is a capitalistic scam anyways." luca flounders and vox has to appreciate him sticking to the bit, even if he did feel a tad disappointed at the fact his friend thought he had to lie to them.

"what about social media? what's their instagram?" mysta questions, already pulling up the app on his phone once again. luca rolls his eyes.

"they don't have instagram," he reveals. "social media isn't their thing." luca pauses for a moment. "actually, i think one of their friends has a picture of them on their page.” ike, shu, mysta, and vox lean forward in interest.

luca takes mysta's phone and taps on the search bar. he clicks on an account of a short haired blonde girl before sighing in disappointment.

"never mind. millie removed all her posts again." ike, shu, mysta, and vox slump back.

"anyways," luca starts, returning mysta’s phone and swallowing the last piece of his sandwich before standing up and dusting off his pants. "i gotta get going before i miss my—miss my class. see ya!" luca waves with a grin before jogging off. the remaining members stare at where he just stood.

"there's no way they're real," ike deadpans.

following the reveal of luca’s very real, not fake, canadian partner, the blonde starts using them as an excuse every time there’s a get together.

“i can’t, tonight’s movie night! he replies excitedly when vox invites him to go drinking after exams.

a week later: “not today, we’re playing overcooked!”

“i think they’ve had a bad day and i wanna call them.”

“sorry, i already made plans.”

the other four members of their group have been sneaking glances at each other every time luca evades their clutches, slowly becoming more and more upset with every (perceived) lie coming out of their friend’s mouth. if he really didn’t want to hang out with them, he should just be honest and say so instead of doing whatever—whatever this is.

today’s excuse was, “tomorrow’s our anniversary and i gotta get ready!”

mysta stares at the spot luca previously occupied before he ran off in the direction of the dorms. the brunette’s frowning, gnawing on his lower lip and bouncing his knee repeatedly. nearby students stare at him with mild annoyance and inch away.

“what the actual hell.” ike looks up from his worksheet and casts a nervous glance at the librarian. hopefully they were far enough away that they wouldn’t hear their inevitably loud conversation. he couldn't deal with another scolding this week.

“why does he keep ditching us,” mysta scowls, now leaned back rather precariously in his chair and chewing on the tip of his pencil. ike chooses not to respond despite agreeing with his friend, currently more preoccupied with his essay. vox and shu, however, have no such priorities at the moment and thus can entertain mysta’s concerns.

“does he not like us anymore?” vox frowns, suddenly a bit insecure. shu nudges his arm with a gentle smile.

“nah, luca isn’t the type of person to just ghost us like this. maybe he really is dating someone,” he says cheerfully. vox and mysta lock eyes before resolutely shaking their heads.

“no. there’s no way,” vox vehemently denies, mysta nodding in agreement. shu hums in response, twirling his pen in his hand with a contemplative expression.

“i dunno,” he muses. “i mean, luca’s like, a good looking guy. would it really be that surprising for him to have a partner?”

“yes!” mysta exclaims, slamming a hand down on the mahogany table. “he doesn’t even react whenever someone tries to flirt with him! he’s too dense to date!” more than a few people swivel their heads toward them at the noise and glare.

“luca may be hot but he doesn’t, y’know. have much rizz.” vox winces, feeling a bit bad about talking behind their friend’s back like this.

the four men silently mull over every possible reason they could think of as to why luca keeps disappearing on them. eventually, dinnertime arrives and they each say their goodbyes before heading out for the night. hopefully the mystery surrounding their friend will be resolved soon; it’s been too long since the five of them got to hang out all together.

there’s something wrong with luca.

in their shared 8AM class, shu notices the smile he gave in greeting didn’t quite reach his eyes. he kept shooting glances at his phone all morning, noticeably more than usual.

“hey,” shu whispers, leaning in close. “you okay?”

luca hums distractedly, his response a little delayed.

“yeah, it’s nothing,” he grins before turning forward to face the professor. shu stares at his side profile for a few seconds and wonders what his friend might be thinking about that might have caused his less-than-stellar mood. unfortunately, luca packed up and slipped out of the lecture hall almost immediately after they were dismissed, leaving shu in the dust and wondering how he could cheer up his friend.

ike can sense his gloom from a mile away. the english major runs into him on his way to the student store—quite literally. luca was looking down at his phone and didn’t see the other man until they bumped heads, both of their belongings spilling onto the ground around them.

“ouch… you good, luca?” ike asks, fixing his glasses that went askew.

“yeah, why wouldn’t i be?” he answers, rubbing the back of his neck. ike observes him for a moment before reaching to pick up his things. perhaps the blonde thought he was worried he got hurt in their little scuffle. don’t get him wrong—of course he cares—but in ike’s humble opinion, his friend’s mental state was a smidge more important than his physical at the moment.

luca grabs his phone and groans. looking over, ike can see a large crack going down the middle of the screen which was glitching at random intervals.

“ah, i’m so sorry, luca” he apologizes, feeling guilty. luca waves him off.

“it’s not your fault,” he reassures, although judging by the look on his face, he was clearly upset. “i gotta run—see ya, ike.” before the other could even respond, luca shoves his broken phone into the pocket of his hoodie and stands up, turning the corner without another word.

“bye, luca…” ike mumbles dejectedly.

mysta and vox are waiting at the back of the line in the cafeteria for lunch when luca shows up behind them with a forlorn expression on his face. vox doesn't notice, however, and grins at his arrival, wrapping an arm around luca’s shoulder and ruffling his hair.

“why didn’t you pick up the phone?” vox whines. “i called you like, five times.” luca shrugs off his arm and takes a step back from the duo. vox and mysta frown at his reaction, realizing their friend wasn’t in the best of moods at the moment.

“it died,” luca grumbles, letting out a loud huff. the three of them slowly move up the line, grabbing items off the counter and placing them on their respective trays. luca’s was noticeably empty.

“we’re out of pizza, sorry,” the cafeteria worker says, shrugging helplessly. “the only thing we have left is salad.” mysta looks down at his tray guiltily knowing he must have taken the last plate. he opens his mouth to offer it to luca but the other man just takes the plate of salad with furrowed brows and pursed lips.

they eat in tense silence—luca stabbing the greens rather aggressively with his fork while the other two share concerned looks.

'should we ask him what's wrong?' vox mouths, nodding his head in luca's direction. mysta frowns, worried that their questions might just make him more irritated. on the rare occasions that he's upset, luca usually chooses to distance himself from others until he calms down in case he ends up taking out his frustrations on them. at his core, luca is kind, and he doesn't want to hurt the people he cares about.

deciding to wait for his friend to come to them instead, mysta shakes his head. it won't do them any good now to talk to luca when he's this wound up.

after luca leaves, the two immediately call ike and shu to come up with a plan. when the duo hears of the others' run ins with their friend today, the four come to a collective agreement.

"so..." shu starts, staring at the door in front of them. "what're we gonna say?"

the group stands in front of luca and vox's shared dorm room holding a variety of items: cheddar cheese pringles, ike's blue ray dvd of 'shrek,' and ice cream cake. hopefully luca's calmed down enough now and they can attempt to improve his mood. the sun is just barely starting to set and dinner won't be for another hour—maybe they can order pizza to make up for lunch?

before any of them can come up with something, however, they hear a loud noise coming from inside that sounded suspiciously like something breaking. panicking, vox shoves the cake into mysta's arms and frantically searches his person for his dorm key. fumbling to open the door, vox trips over a pair of shoes in the doorway that don't belong to him nor luca (not that he notices in his alarm).

"luca!" vox calls out worriedly. "are you oka-"

"WHAT THE HELL?!"

ike's sudden screech startles everyone in the dorm. all six of them.

pressed against the wall was luca, staring at his friends with wide eyes and tussled hair. his lips were slightly swollen and there was a faint line of drool on his chin, the hoodie he was wearing thrown haphazardly onto the couch. holding him against said wall was a rather attractive stranger with equally ruined hair and flushed cheeks, both of their necks clearly littered with hickeys, although luca's noticeably more so. on the floor next to them lay the sorry remains of vox's lamp.

mysta's eye twitches.

"um. hello," you wave, trying to subtly fix your hair and clothes while luca leans against the wall, dazed and still shirtless.

"you must be luca's friends, it's great to meet finally you all!"

at your words, the group suddenly reanimates from where they stood frozen in the doorway.

"you're—you're real. you're actually real." ike stammers. "you're luca's partner?!"

you shift awkwardly, nodding. did your boyfriend not talk about you to them?

mysta stares at you, mouth agape as he struggles to process the scene before him.

you're the farthest thing from what he's imagined, which is rather impressive considering he wasn't able to come up with anything at all. how in the hell did luca manage to cuff somebody as hot as you?!

"what the fuck," he says eloquently. that just about sums up everyone's reaction, minus the apparently real couple.

"...my lamp," vox weakly adds, unable to say anything more complicated than monosyllables in his shock.

shu—god bless his soul—comes to his senses quicker than the others and hurriedly places the gifts on a nearby counter before pushing his friends out the dorm, sending a wink your way and slamming the door shut behind him leaving you and luca alone once again.

your eyes glance over the stuff with an amused expression on your face. turning to face your lover, you slam your hands against the wall next to his head and peck him on the lips.

"what's up with that?" you ask, nodding your head toward the presents. luca blinks at you, taking a moment to process your question in the aftermath of the chaos that just ensued.

"they probably—uh. i think they wanted to cheer me up," he guesses. you hum in response, running your fingers through soft blonde hair. luca let's his eyes fall shut and sighs contentedly.

"were you upset earlier, baby?" you ask, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck before biting down. luca whines above you as his arms tense from where they were wrapped around your waist.

"mmm, i thought you forgot about me," he admits, shivering at the feeling of your warm tongue laving against the freshly formed bruise. "you weren't replying to any of my messages."

you chuckle, pulling back to gaze lovingly at your cute boyfriend.

"of course i didn't forget about you, luca, or our anniversary. i'm sorry i didn't tell you i was flying over before, i wanted to surprise you," you coo, tucking a few stray strands of hair behind his ear.

"it's ok, i'm just happy you're here," luca mumbles, holding you tightly. with a laugh, you pull away but before he could even think about protesting, you grab his wrist and drag him toward his bed.

"you sure you don't want an apology?" you tease, enjoying the way luca's face burns red at the implication.

"n-no! i mean, yes! i want an apology! please!"

"of course, baby," you purr, pushing him onto the mattress and straddling his hips. "let me make it up to you."

outside, the four men stood frozen in the same position they were in when they got forced out of the room five minutes ago.

"holy shit," vox breathes, "luca gets bitches."

##WRITTEN ON 230220

[wade-winston-wilson]

Here's a little Icemav Thing from an RP I had a while back: His stomach devours itself on the way to the Bradshaws’ door. Mav knocks, and each time, it's like a bell toll, rattling Ice to the bone. On the fourth knock, the door flies open, revealing a disheveled Carole: tracks of tears line her red, puffy cheeks; she's only wearing a nightgown and a bonnet on her head, seemingly all out of sorts. Her face crumbles when she notices the state of Maverick, all the confirmation she needs for something she's already been told. She yanks Maverick into a hug and holds on for dear life, sobbing violently into the clothes that aren't his.

Quietly, Ice follows them inside. He closes the door and latches the lock, eyes glued to the tacky blue it's been painted. Fleetingly, he thinks he should go. It's just a gut reaction–pathetic for a man of the Navy, his father would say–but obviously that's not going to happen; because Maverick needs him, and Ice is in love with him–and Goose is dead.

It's the sound of rustling sheets that snaps Iceman out of it altogether. He turns, takes in the room: small, with double queen-sized beds shoved together in the middle. On the one furthest from the door, Bradley Bradshaw stirs awake, tiny fists digging into his eyes. Ice sits with him through his mother's agony, hating himself with every hitch of breath she can't seem to catch.

“I'm so sorry, Baby Goose,” he pleads softly into Bradley's hair, just as his little lip starts to tremble. He makes a promise to Goose right then and there, praying he'll hear it.

They stay like that for hours: with Mav holding Carole, and Ice cradling Bradley to his chest, until eventually, all the crying comes to a gradual stop. By oh-two-hundred, Bradley is fast asleep. Carole had tucked herself into a recliner about half an hour ago, a blanket strewn across her legs as she gazes blankly at a spot on the floor. Ice stands and places Bradley in her arms, then squats beside her chair. She looks at him then, utterly exhausted. Somehow, she still manages a tired smile.

Ice believes every word Goose has ever said about her.

“Thank you,” she rasps out, low in the room, but loud and ringing in Ice's head. Don't, he doesn't say, watches instead as she tilts her head at Bradley–then at Mav through the window, who at some point had moved outside. “For takin’ care of the boys.”

Ice stares at Maverick's silhouette for a long time before turning back to Carole. “You know how he got the name Goose?”

Her eyes shine with tears, but she's smiling again, shaking her head. With a cotton-thick mouth, Ice tells her.

“Every time he opened his mouth, he'd always find a way to mention how incredible his wife is, or how smart of a son he has. Like a Mother Goose.”

Carole laughs and cries, burying her face against her shoulder, and reaching out for Ice. Ice takes her hand.

“You meant the world to him. All three of you,” he adds, glancing at the window again. Carole squeezes his hand; and as he gets to his feet, he squeezes back. “Don’t hesitate to reach out for anything. That goes for the rest of the squad, too. Whatever you need.”

“Thank you, Tom,” she sniffles, wiping roughly at her eyes. She sighs at the window along with him. “Now get on out of here an’ get Pete to bed. Before he passes out and hits the concrete, okay? Me an’ Bradley, we'll… well, we'll get through it tonight.”

Ice lets her go with a soft goodbye and a promise to get Maverick to sleep, fitting the lock in place before shutting the door. The air is warm against his skin as he steps out, soothing the ache in his throat–brought on from the tears he’d managed to swallow down. Maverick's back is to him, slim shoulders tense. Ice runs a hand over his mouth to keep from touching him.

“I'm sorry you didn't get to tell her first,” he says into the hush of the night, coming to stand beside Maverick–leaving space between them. “I know you wanted her to hear it from you.”

This is the longest they've gone without some kind of physicality between them: a back rub, someone's ruffled hair, even a hand hold. Ice doesn't know how Maverick likes to be touched when he's grieving. Doesn't know how to hug him without Carole's sobs harmonizing with Goose's screams. All he can do right now is make good on his promises to all four of the Bradshaws.

Ice looks down at Mav, eyes trained on the curve of his nose. “Come on.”

[amerricanartwork]

RW Headcanon: Goodnight, Moon

AHHH YESSSS, now that that Lilypad essay is done I can FINALLY share these—!

Hey, @ghostlycoze! So you remember a few months ago how I made that drawing acting on the Moon beepsnort headcanon, and how in my last reblog I eluded to the possibility of drawing out some of your headcanons again? Well, it looks like that time has come, and this time I've got not just drawings, but lots of additions to another headcanon of yours!

This time, it's from your tags in these three posts, which I also saw a while ago! Yet for some reason I began thinking about it again recently, and as is my nature with ideas I like, I decided to develop it further, and even draw it this time!

Also, just to preface, you'll see I did a bunch of notes beside the actual drawings as well. I'll share the picture and roughly type out the notes (in case my handwriting is a bit hard to read) as well as whatever info I couldn't fit on the page. Some of the text also just says "robots" rather than "iterators" because some of these ideas are stuff I actually imagine applying to robot characters in general! Maybe I'll make a post on that someday...

With all that out of the way though, the actual headcanon is under the cut! Hope you like it!

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

What are iterators like when they’re sleepy? Do they even get “sleepy” the way we humans do? This headcanon answers that question with a focus on the iterators’ puppets. Much of this info is also framed in the context of a hypothetical “worm-off-the-string” scenario, since I believe that’s the main situation where sleep and getting tired would actually matter to the iterators.

Firstly, when iterator puppets are low on power, until they find a place to recharge they usually enter a power-saving state where, to conserve what’s left of it, their energy is temporarily redirected away from some of their less-important processes. The side-effect of this, however, is that iterator puppets show symptoms of drowsiness kinda like humans! Whereas humans may yawn, stretch, or rub their eyes when sleepy, iterators will often make sloppier/less precise movements, close their lenses a little, and may even have a harder time thinking, since they sometimes shut off some processors and other cognitive functions until they can recharge. The most common symptom, however, is slurred speech, coming from less power given to their speech-forming software.

Another very-common sign of iterator sleepiness is frequent beeping, often in place of words. This is because, like slurred speech, beeps take much less energy and processing to make than analyzing data, formulating a complex response, then vocalizing it clearly. Beeps are thus far more efficient for conveying simple emotions and reactions than words. Looks to the Moon in particular gets super beepy when she’s tired because she and other early models relied more on beeps for communication — they were made back when things like vivid emotion weren’t as taboo in Ancient society, and iterators were meant to be more friendly and openly interactive with their citizens — so she’s more used to beeping to easily express her emotions. 

As a side-note and mini-headcanon (wow, real headcanon-layering action here), while even the newest iterator puppets can beep, the older iterator models, as a result of this design influence, also have a much greater “beep-vocabulary” with a wider range of sounds that shrunk with the generations. Their beeps are thus a lot more expressive as well, with some sounds even being similar in nature to animal noises or regular speech! I imagine the entire range of their beeps would closely resemble shorter versions of the “droidspeak” sounds of the astromechs in Star Wars.

But, back to sleepy iterators. 

When it’s hibernation time, iterators enter a “sleep-mode”, where almost all of their systems are shut down and recharging becomes the primary objective. However, compared to how I imagine other robots, iterator puppets have a unique way of recharging. Rather than shutting off completely and absorbing power from an external source, iterator puppets have a few key systems within them that remain on even during sleep-mode. These systems, just like those in their superstructures, are capable of converting nutrients into power directly. They emit a soft, rather comforting whirr while the puppets sleep — the only sound iterators make while sleeping, and comparable in nature to stomach sounds during digestion. Otherwise, though, the only other systems remaining on during sleep-mode are a few basic senses, and a program that decides when to “wake up”. The presence of this program also means, uniquely to iterators again, they can wake up on their own, rather than having to be powered back on by someone else like other robots. Overall, these systems are yet another aspect of iterator designs that make them far more biological than many iterators (*cough* *cough* Pebbles *cough*) would like to admit.  And in my imaginings of a “worm-off-the-string” AU, systems like these are one of the main sources of both physical and internal conflict for these characters.

Also, since most of their systems are off during sleep mode, iterators sleep, both figuratively and literally, like statues. Whatever position they fall asleep in is the position they remain in the entire time unless a.) someone moves them or b.) they wake up and move on their own. This also means (unfortunately, if you thought these ideas would be cute) that iterators do not snore, shift around, sleepwalk, sleep-talk, or dream while in sleep mode.

That’s about it for this headcanon as it applies to iterator puppets overall. Now, I’m gonna get into how I imagine Looks to the Moon specifically likes to sleep.

In addition to getting very beepy, Moon also gets very cuddly when sleepy, though some of this comes from her affectionate personality. However, it's also due to a lasting trauma from her collapse. Of course she's learned to tolerate the rain over time, yet after spending so many cycles being rapidly drowned over and over in her can — with endless disorientation and senses so out-of-control from being disconnected from most of her superstructure, no one around to comfort her save for the occasional wandering creature, and the knowledge that her own beloved brother was responsible for this — it’s still left a fair amount of bad memories with her, especially from those cycles most recently after her collapse/revival, and this general unease often resurfaces with the sound of the rain. Therefore, whenever the rain comes, this trauma serves as another, more internal reason Looks to the Moon always wants to fall asleep holding onto/being held by someone, or at the very least while sharing the shelter with someone she loves. 

On a more positive note, since I’m now officially a Lilypad shipper, I imagine that No Significant Harassment is Moon’s default choice of cuddling partner! It can be a little hard to get in position — I imagine Moon always likes to be the little spoon despite her being slightly taller than him — but they manage! Moon pretty much always falls asleep first, because, as the oldest model of the group, and having sustained the most damage post-collapse on top of that, she simply doesn’t use power as efficiently as the others do and therefore gets tired much more easily. In some ways, the poor thing even feels a little guilty about it; she’s supposed to be the leader of this group, and yet here she is, tiring out after less travel and growing drowsy before the rain even starts! Luckily, Sig makes an effort to ensure her she’s more-than worth keeping around, because after every awful thing the world has thrown at her kindness, the least she deserves is some quality guilt-free nap time! And sometimes, if they want a little alone-time (or if Pebbles gets too fed-up with their lovey-dovey gestures), it’ll be just the two of them, and perhaps their slugcats, cuddling together in the shelter. 

And speaking of slugcats, Moon’s second choice of cuddles is Rivulet! Being very soft, warm, and equally cuddly, she makes another good source of cuddles for Moon. And sometimes, if Hunter’s also around and willing, the two join forces with Sig and Hunter for a big, soft, cuddle-filled slumber party!

Still, though, Sig is definitely no. 1 provider of snuggles for Moon. But he loves her dearly, so for the most part he doesn’t mind! Since she falls asleep first, some of his favorite moments each cycle are from just watching her and holding her close as the rainfall echoes from outside; she always looks so beautiful when she’s relaxed, and having her in his arms makes him feel like he can protect her no matter what. So he never really minds when Moon, slurring her words, tiredly asks for him to hold her while she enters sleep mode. 

That is, except when this happens and he’s stuck in that spot for the next several hours…

A few more ideas to this headcanon:

Moon’s third choice of cuddles is Five Pebbles. It’s a bit interesting, because in basically all other scenarios Pebbles insists on sleeping alone in a separate shelter, even though he’s actually rather touch-starved (though it'll be a while before he admits it). Moon is one of the only people he’s actually willing to sleep with, besides occasionally Artificer (in which the feeling is mutual and no one else must be in the room). If I someday decide to ship Pebbles with someone, I imagine he’d also be willing to sleep with them, again, only if no one else is around to see it.

To elaborate on the last point and shift to Five Pebbles’ perspective, the reason why Pebbles always wants to sleep alone is because, as I imagine the worm-off-the-string story so far, Pebbles’ biggest internal conflicts are learning to accept all those “worldly attachments” the Ancients so strongly rejected, and overcoming his god-complex and fear of relying on others. And one of the main ways this manifests is him being so deeply embarrassed to be dealing with these basic survival needs — like yet another one of the savage beasts roaming the world, after having been a vast mechanical god so far above those primitive creatures — that he refuses to let others, even his friends and family, observe him in such a “pitiful” state whenever possible, and resolves to try and overcome it alone. 

To further continue this idea, this is why Moon sometimes insists on sleeping with him. Even though he’ll have to overcome these conflicts on his own, it doesn’t mean he has to be alone while he does it. She makes an effort during these and other moments in this scenario to assure him that it’s okay, no one’s gonna judge or punish him for living this way, and she’ll always be there if he ever decides to accept some help. Pebbles always falls asleep with his head buried in her chest and holding onto her very tightly.

The iterators often like to sleep with their slugcats, who in the AU also stick around a lot to help guide them as they figure out the ins-and-outs of organic survival. 

Both Moon and Pebbles tend to sleep in a curled position. It's actually very similar to how slugcats generally sleep!

Pebbles is quite the workaholic in general, but it also means he has a hard time falling asleep — not because he doesn’t get sleepy, but rather that he often denies it or its significance in an attempt to get more done that cycle (and because, again, he’s “too advanced” for animalistic things like sleeping). The group often has to literally drag him to bed to get him to sleep, and Sig often teases him when his lenses start drooping and his syllables begin to stretch.

In extreme cases, where almost all of their power has been exhausted, iterators won't just slur their words anymore, but their speech will often lose coherency overall, like a spoken case of very drunk typing .

When sleepy, Moon not only slurs her words, but has a tendency to say rather strange and very silly things. It’s another side-effect of less power being used to actually think through her words. There have been many instances where the whole group erupted in laughter after Moon made a really out-of-left-field comment!

Oh, and here's one last quick doodle based off one of the ones above:

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Aaaand that's all for another headcanon! Even though it took me a whole week to do the drawings, it was SO fun getting to develop this idea, especially since sleepy Moonie is such a cute concept! I am so glad that you shared that little idea, Ghost!!

And speaking of which, if you've made it all the way down here, Ghost, may I invite you to add any more ideas to all this, if you want? I'd especially love hearing ideas for the other iterators' sleeping habits (how fast they get tired, what position they like to sleep in, who they usually sleep with, how they wind down before bed, etc.)! I mainly focused on Moon and a bit of Pebbles at the end, since I'm still trying to get a read on Sig and Suns's personalities (especially Suns), so it'd be fun to even further expand on this idea in that regard! Of course, you don't have to, but it's a proposition!

But regardless, I hope you and anyone else who made it to the bottom enjoyed my contributions to the idea! And be sure to keep the adorable headcanon ideas coming!!

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Bonus: Here are the full sketchbook pages, in case anyone was interested in seeing the completed layout! I think I'm gonna be making more of these kinds of drawing/explanation combo artworks!3

[harlowsbby]

Who is Who

You loved pranking Jack it was always so funny watching him get all riled up and frustrated but this time around you were going to be the one getting riled up.

Lately the two of you have been arguing more than usual and it was always over something so small or meaningless, let’s say Jack forgot to take out the trash you’d get irritated and just start rambling on and on, on how forgetful he is. So today he decided it was time to get you back.

For today’s prank Jack was going to be saying another girls name in his ‘sleep’ and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid of your reaction because he’d be mad too if you said another man’s name in your sleep.

The two of you had a little party to go to later so you were in your room taking a nap and Jack was on the couch taking a ‘nap’ as well. You had your alarm set to go off in a few minutes so Jack had to hurry up and make it seem as if he was sleeping before you woke up.

He took his blanket and laid it across himself and messed up his curls a bit to make it seem like he was sleeping and hung one leg over the couch, he looked at the time seeing it was about 5 minutes till your alarm was set to go off.

After a few minutes of laying there he heard the sound of your alarm going off and the sound of you getting up from the bed. You groaned and stretched before standing up and making your way outside to the living room.

You rolled your eyes seeing Jack passed out on the couch and went to get you some water, Jack opened his eyes up a bit seeing you in the kitchen and quickly closed his eyes as you turned back around.

Just as you were about to go inside the room again to get ready for the party you stopped when you heard Jack talking in his sleep. “Ashley stop it.” He laughed in his sleep.

You froze and looked down at him if looks could kill Jack would be a dead man right about now. “What did you just say?” You told him and made your way into the living room again and sat on the coffee table.

“Jack.” You shook him roughly but he still didn’t budge. “Jack.” You said again the irritation was evident in your tone. “Ashley come on baby stop it now.” He laughed again in his sleep and flipped over to the side.

“Ashley? Who the hell is Ashley, you know what I got something for Ashley.” You said sarcastically and made your way back into the kitchen where you got a bottle of freezing cold water before making your way back into the living room.

Jack moved around a bit more in his sleep and you stood there with the bottle of water dangerously close to his face. “What did you just say?” You repeated yourself again. “Wake up Jack.” You shook him again but he still wasn’t budging so you tossed the water in his face which caused him to get up.

“What are you doing?!” He was honestly startled he didn’t think you’d actually throw something on him.

“Who is Ashley?!”

“No the real question is why did you just throw water in my face?!” He yelled back as he cleaned his face with his shirt.

“Answer my damn question Jack who is Ashley? And why do you keep saying her name in your sleep.”

You were beyond irritated and Jack was trying his absolute best not to start laughing right then and there.

“What are you talking about? I don’t know anybody named Ashley.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed.

“Are you being serious right now? You said Ashley like three times in your sleep.” He looked around ‘confused’ acting as if he had no idea.

“Ashley who?” You huffed and placed your hands on your hips and looked at him with your eyebrows raised. “Seriously? This is how you’re going to act now.” He sat up and raised his hands in defense. “Baby, on my life I don’t know who Ashley is I swear.”

“So you think I’m stupid? Do you think I just made up everything I just heard?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “I didn’t… I mean I didn’t say that.” He tried defending his case but you weren’t having it.

“Fine, since you wanna act like you don’t know who Ashley is I guess I’ll just go with Jason.” You smirked and walked away and of course Jack followed after you. “Who is Jason?” He said and leaned against the bathroom frame watching as you applied your makeup.

“Who is Ashley.” You completely ignored his question. “No I asked you first Y/N, now who is Jason? You think you can just go around and see other guys when you’re clearly in a relationship with me?” He was starting to get red in the face now.

“Says the one that’s clearly out here seeing other women why don’t you go take Ashley to the party I’ll just hangout with Jason tonight.” You smirked and patted his chest as you walked past him and into your closet, Jack followed you like a lost puppy.

“Baby it’s a prank I’m not seeing anybody nor do I know anybody named Ashley I just decided to mess with you.” He started to panic as you started putting on your heels. “Really? That’s honestly wild because I’m not joking I’m really going out with Jason.” Jack didn’t know what to do but to watch you finish putting on your heels and put on your accessories.

“Baby come on I know you’re messing with me you’d never cheat on me and you know it.” You stopped what you were doing and raised your eyebrows at him. “Oh yeah? How are you so sure about that, I’ve been thinking since we’ve been arguing so much lately it’s best we take a little break and see new people.”

His mouth practically flew open at the words that just came out your mouth. “You’re joking right? I’m sorry but you aren’t going anywhere and you aren’t leaving me.” You laughed and shook your head at him. “It’s a joke Jack I’m not leaving you.”

“Wait.. so you just pranked me back?” He said dumbfounded. “I sure did, next time you want to prank someone maybe don’t send your idea to the person you’re pranking.” You said slowly and showed him your messages he groaned seeing that he did indeed send his plan to you.

“I’m sorry baby I just decided it would be fun to get you for once since you’re always getting me.” He said. You coo’d and wrapped your arms around his shoulders. “It’s okay and I’m sorry for pranking you back I’m also sorry for the past few days I know I’ve been a lot.”

“You got that right.” He mumbled under his breath but you heard him loud and clear.

“Oh is that right? Well since you wanna agree with me you can sleep on the couch tonight and get your own ride to the party.” You huffed and grabbed your purse before making your way outside.

“Baby!? I’m only playing you know I love you.” He yelled and chased after you with a grin displayed on his face.

Even when the two of you had little small heated arguments you both always knew how to bounce back in the end and let love win.

(Something I did just because I was bored 😭)

[captain-mj]

I bring you the bones of my friends that are uneducated on lgbtq+ matters for

PrinceGraves x leader of Royal guard Price

Graves is ruling temporarily while the King is away on diplomatic matters and he drives the court insane. He's cocky, talks over advisors and thinks he can doe everything better.

After 3 days Price is so fed up with the spoiled Prince so he fucks him on the throne and tell him to behave.

Here ya go!! Btw, in case it's not explicit enough, Graves is very capable, he was just playing Price to get a reaction. It's not really paid much attention, we all know why we're here

Price watched the Prince speak and tried not to chew his own sword.

The worst part was Graves had good points occasionally, but he didn't listen and he always questioned everything. He didn't trust any of them and made that clear.

Price bit his tongue as Graves once again questioned one of the King's most trusted advisor.

"How are you sure of this? Where are your sources?" Graves looked right at Price as he spoke, a small grin on his face. He had asked that four times. In this meeting.

"Are you sure we should do that? I heard that those are flimsy..."

Price got up and left, going to the throne room. God that little brat pissed him off. As the leader of the royal guard, he knew he needed to keep on good terms with him. One day, Graves could be his boss.

God, he hoped not.

Price took off his helmet and ran his hands through his hair. Didn't help that he was so hot. Walking around barely dressed most of the time. Wearing sheer clothing and letting everyone just drool over him. When his father was here, he never acted like this!! What was his deal?

"John." Graves interrupted his thoughts. He only had some loose pants and his crown on. "You alright?"

"I'm fine, your majesty." Price glared at him but Graves did not seem moved.

After a few minutes, Graves tilted his head. "You know, it's polite to ask someone how they're doing back. I know you're a Captain, but that's not an excuse for bad manners."

Price gritted his teeth before drawing his sword and put it to his throat. He didn't have words. Three fucking days of this.

Graves blushed and looked up at him. "John. Remember your place. Kill me and the King will have your head. Relationship or not."

Price got closer. "I wouldn't kill you, Graves."

Graves looked intrigued. "What are you going to do to me?"

"Make you shut up." Price threw the sword to the side and grabbed him, placing him on his back on the throne. He pulled down his pants.

"Wait! The doors!!"

"Let them walk in." Price snapped at him. "Maybe it'll teach you manners. Get too loud and someone will come in."

Graves blushed and looked away, grabbing the throne. "Fine. I give you permission."

Price shoved Graves's knees to his chest and shoved a finger into his hole roughly. He spit onto his finger and shoved it in deeper. Graves started to thrash and eventually tapped him insistently. "Wait, there's oil. Please you're being too rough with me!"

Price grumbled, but he did it. He wanted to hurt the Prince but... not that bad. Tearing him seemed excessive.

Now that he had the oil, he forced his fingers back in, watching Graves tense to try to stop himself from moving. He groaned as Price slid a second one in, making him pant softly as he tried to keep quiet.

"Can't get through one meeting without you complaining about how long its taking or how many people are there or how you want to be doing anything else." He thrust his fingers in hard over and over again, needing him well stretched.

Graves whimpered and twisted, clearly not used to such rough treatment. "What else?"

Price frowned and got a third one in, groaning at how tight the fit was. "What else what?"

"What else do I do wrong?" He pushed back against him, biting his lip. His face twisted in pleasure and pain.

"You keep questioning me! I'm the Captain of the Royal Guard for a reason! You're such a royal brat." Price forced another finger in him and Graves's back arched.

"I'm sorry, sir." Graves panted out, putting his hands under his knees so Price didn't have to keep holding him. He threw his head back and rocked against him desperately. "So good, please."

"Shut up." Price forced his fingers in deeper. "So tight. So fucking tight. Shit."

Graves closed his eyes and looked away. Once Price was sure he was open enough, he picked Graves up. He then put him on the floor and sat in the throne himself, the great crowned prince looking up at him from his knees.

Price buried his hand in Graves's hair and pulled him to his cock, watching Graves's eyes widen. He tilted his head before running his tongues along one of the veins, grinning when Price groaned.

"Good boy. Finally putting that mouth of yours to good use."

Graves went to retort and Price yanked him down on his cock, making him gag. He held him there for a moment, feeling his cock convulse around him for a moment before letting go so Graves could pull back. He took a deep breath and then immediately went back down on him, swallowing. Price groaned and relaxed, letting Graves work on him.

"You seem happier on your knees. Like you wanted me to do this."

Graves looked up at him through his lashes, swallowing hard.

"You fucking brat." Price yanked him closer, making his eyes fill with tears. He swallowed and used his tongue, clearly trying to please him. "You're not going to be able to walk until the fucking King comes back."

Graves hummed in response and bobbed his head enthusiastically. Price pulled him off and he made a wounded noise.

"Yeah, Yeah. Get up here."

Graves did as told, grabbing Price's shoulders as he picked him up. He slid him down on his cock and enjoyed the little whimpers it got. One of his hands fit around Graves's throat and the other around his waist. He thrust up into Graves, watching his eyes roll back.

Price enjoyed him like a toy. Graves scrambled for a hold as he was slammed into mercilessly, hiding his face out of shame.

Well, that just wouldn't do.

Price turned him around so he couldn't, hands going under his knees to keep his legs spread apart. If anyone came in, they'd see Graves's face and the way his body took Price like a whore.

"Sir, please."

"Your voice is pretty when you're begging." He moved Graves instead of himself, making him bounce up and down. The new angle must've felt nice because he was a mess in Price's arms, tears streaming down his face.

Graves twisted his head to kiss his cheek. "So mean to me."

Price growled. "You like it."

Graves blushed and shuddered. "I like when you growl."

Price yanked him closer and kissed him, hammering into him now. Graves grasped him as hard as he could and Price could feel his legs shaking.

"Don't finish until I do."

"You fucking bastard." Graves huffed. "Hard to do that when you're fucking me like this."

"Try harder." Price smiled and forced his legs further apart.

Graves held on to him, painfully hard. He was clearly trying his hardest though and Price could appreciate that.

Price reached around and stroked him, feeling him tremble. "No, please, I won't last." He kept stroking Graves anyway.

Graves did not last. He came all over himself with a groan and his head fell back. He panted softly as Price fucked him through it. Price came in him and patted his thigh.

Slowly, he pulled out of him and set his Prince on the throne. "You look gorgeous." He didn't fix his pants, but he did fix his crown, looking at the cum running down his legs. "Act right in the next couple of meetings and I'll do this again."

"Don't you mean don't do this again?"

"Darling, we both know you wanted this."

Graves bit his lip. "Alright, yes sir."