#They vacuum seal their mouths around it

[p1zzaparty]

I don't remember when this was but at some point i started documenting how dogs eat hamburgers via ms paint 

[moondirti]

soapgaz but kyle gets a girl and johnny doesn’t see how that should stop them.

dubcon. cum eating. cunnilingus. voyeurism. unedited

shows up at their flat on weekends, greasy takeout in hand to weasel his way between the two during their movie night. legs spread, crotch prominently on display — where kyle would’ve once taken advantage of that, he now stares at him with an incredulous expression, ushering to his clearly uncomfortable bird when johnny asks what’s the matter.

opts to stay the night, despite lacking invitation. he can’t be expected to drive back home in this state, can he? (this state being the unaddressed boner). camps out in their one bathroom before they can get ready for bed, chugging one so loudly they’re bound to hear him from the next room. cums all over the underside of the toilet cover and does a poor job of wiping it clean.

watches porn through the night on the telly they have situated in the guest room. him and kyle always had the most fun finding flicks together, their hands down each other’s pants, rating each star to spread themself on screen. johnny’s had his, albeit unsatisfactory, fun today, so the ploy isn’t so much for his pleasure but to lure the other man out of his room.

wakes up so early the sun is barely strung over the horizon, padding out into the kitchen to rummage through their groceries. eats about everything he can get his hands on — cheese, milk, bread, jam — and when she comes out to fix herself breakfast, he’s hovering over her shoulder, telling her to make him one, too.

“gotta learn how tae share, bonnie.” he whines, standing too close to a girl he’s never met before yesterday. you feel his chest mere inches away from your back, the furry lengths of his legs tickling yours. that’s your mistake for wearing shorts when you knew there was a freak in your home.

“alright, alright. bleedin’ christ, dude. just back the fuck off me. i’ll make you an omelette.”

soap shakes his head. at least you think he does, based on the way his uneven breaths fan across your nape. “wasnae what ah was talking aboot.”

your hands hesitate over the oven dial. his smooth down your waist, tugging at the waistband of your pants. “w-what—”

but he shucks them and your panties down before you can force the protest from your throat, sinking to his knees so his nose is level with your cunt. when his rough palms spread over either cheek, you learn to anticipate the way he spreads you apart, exposing your vulnerable holes to his eye. he stuffs his face into your taint, shoulders broadening as he takes a deep whiff.

“can fuckin' reek him in ye, this greedy snatch. cannae save some for th’ rest of us, ay?” he growls, digging an index finger in your still-sore hole. sure enough, it comes back coated in kyle’s spend, pearlescent and a little watered down by your own fluids. you can’t help the whimper that stutters from your chest. the evidence of the morning’s debauchery, inspired by the obscenely loud porn that fixed itself into your dreams last night, is enough to send you reeling beyond reason.

soap growls. you feel its vibrations shoot through you when he fixes his mouth on your pussy, warm tongue poking until you have to clench around it. its dextrous, thick, and reaches a place you did not think could be touched by anything but kyle’s expert fingers. involuntarily, your legs widen, feet rooting a metre apart to give him space.

he cleans you out like your sloppy seconds are manna, the aftertaste of his best mate and favourite fuck buddy the only heaven he’ll know. when he can no longer reach the cum sticking deep to your insides, he starts syphoning it from you like a straw, lips vacuum sealed to your vulva, thumbs pressed painfully into the swell of your ass.

kyle’s bound to wake with how loud you moan. you can only hope he comes out in time to pull soap back by the mohawk — before you find yourself unravelling by his impassioned effort.

(little do you know, he’s been out of bed for a good minute now, pasted discreetly to the wall as he watches soap eat you out from behind, his over-hard cock leaking liquid desire into his hands.)

[earth2steve]

eddie rambles vol 1: (18+)

whatever eddie lacks in technique, he makes up two times over in enthusiasm. 

he’s on you before your legs even hit the bed today; pawing at your ass and thighs and pressing hot open mouthed kisses down your stomach. he's always got a mouth on him, but right now he’s babbling and slurring over every second syllable so bad you'd think he were drunk. “fuck, sweetheart - lemme get my mouth on you? need it so fuckin’ bad, shit-”

he gets like this sometimes - so frantic and dizzying and urgent in his need to get you off that it almost knocks the wind out of you. “god, eddie - yes. please.” 

by the time he reaches his destination between your thighs you’re starting to feel as wound up as he looks. hot pleasure twists and bubbles in your gut as he slots himself against you and manhandles one of your legs over his shoulder. your hands twitch around on the sheets beside you, not knowing quite what to do with themselves. 

the feeling of vulnerability only grows as he stares straight through you and begins to suckle at your clit through the fabric of your underwear. his gaze is so cruel in its intensity that you have to look away and start counting the cracks in the ceiling.

his eyes flit back and forth just once from your absent gaze and flailing hand, and then he's reaching his own up the expanse of your stomach and drumming his fingers there. heat blooms in your chest and between your thighs as you reach down and interlace your fingers. he squeezes your hand twice, and it feels, in your mind, in lieu of a kiss.

it’s a sweet kind of torture when he really gets started; his hot, syrupy mouth working against the heat of you while frizzy curls tickles your thighs. he's not what one would call precise, but the sheer desperation with which he's making out with your cunt is nothing to complain about. his nose bumps incessantly at your clit with the angle he works you at, and every movement of his tongue is accompanied by the dull vibration of a moan against the heat of you.

it's too much - he's too much - in a way that makes your legs twitch and blood rush in your ears. even more so when he latches his mouth in a vacuum seal around your clit and shakes his head from side to side in replacement for the usual movements of his thumb. a series of whines and curses tumble from your lips, and right as you feel like you might start levitating exorcist-style off the mattress, he comes up for air with a blistering grin plastered across his face.

“gimme a number.”

your eyes are blurry with mounting pleasure when you prop yourself up to meet his gaze. "what?"

“how many times d' you wanna cum on my tongue? gotta know when you want me to stop or i could go all night, sweetheart.”

you pretend to be offended at his vulgarity of his words; the cockiness they hold - but the truth is, whatever eddie lacks in technique, he makes up two four times over in enthusiasm. 

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Daydreaming

fluffff plot: Satoru Gojo doesn't ever depend on anyone but himself, but waking up next to you is starting to make him feel a little... in love? content: it is like brain rotting fluff. waking up together, reminiscing the love story, mentions of Geto, reader referred to as his pretty girl, yayyyy word count: 1.5k satoru gojo x reader note: a bit of a drabble i cooked up rly quickly but honestly i love it so much I love gojo happy in love. kind of inspired by daydreaming by harry styles if you wanna listen to that!! <3 love u

Satoru Gojo has never been one to depend on others.

His entire life, he has been put on a pedestal by the entire Jujutsu society. He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, solely due to qualities he was born with. He has always been expected to never depend on anyone as the world relies on him and his abilities. How weak would he be if the so-called "Strongest Sorcerer" ever needed any aid? So many eyes watch his every room that if he shows any sense of weakness, the existence of the world as humanity knows it may be at stake. He has learned through his training, through his old best friend Suguru Geto, through all of the losses, through every battle, through every decision he has ever made - he learned he was the only one he could truly depend on.

Gojo wants to help others - that's why he became a teacher. So others can grow strong, and they can save each other and themselves. To make up for his weakness getting the best of him; because he depended on his best friend, and it got the best of him. The next generation will at least be protected in a way his never was, and they will never have to feel the pressure Gojo finds himself under.

That's where you come in.

Golden sunlight gently embraces your features, emphasizing your beauty in such a vulnerable state. Your mouth is slightly agape, breathing quiet and evenly paced. You are at peace, dreaming sweet dreams about kittens pitter-pattering through the most gorgeous meadow with you.

Laying beside you and holding you in his arms now as he has been all night, Gojo admires you and the way the sun dances across your face and highlights how perfect you are. He watches the way your pretty eyelashes flutter every now and then, how your delicate fingers lay against your white bedsheets, how your messy hair sprawls across your pillowcase in a way that frames you to perfection. Your cheek is a little squished against the pillow, making your face look all cute and his stomach fills with butterflies, flying at high speeds and knocking into everything in their way.

Gojo can only think one thing as he watches you sleep: you are so beautiful.

You were in the same class as Gojo, only in Kyoto. While you weren't from one of the three great sorcerer clans of the jujutsu world, your lineage was decently known and well respected. When the two of you met, he thought you were cute, of course, but you were best friends with Utahime and she absolutely hated Gojo. At the time, he had no interest in anything other than meaningless flings and sex, anyway - which, from the rumors he'd heard around that that was not your thing (rumors being what he'd been told after bothering Shoko every single day with questions about you and what you are interested in, just because he wanted to hook up and not at all because you were the most beautiful person his six eyes had ever had the blessing to land upon and he never thought love at first sight was real until the moment he first saw you). Something about you had him holding back because deep down, he knew if he stepped too close to you, he would be completely sucked in, vacuumed sealed in your presence in an blink, and unable to control or stop it.

A couple years after being alumni from Jujutsu Tech, you ended up in the same place as each other - teachers at Tokyo's Jujutsu High. You moved after some conversations with Yaga who believed you were the perfect fit for a teacher at his school. You agreed, much to Gakuganji's dismay (though, you never liked the old man, so you were happy to be away from him finally). Gojo, still grieving his and Geto's friendship, tried his hardest to stay away from you at first. He resolved to put every ounce of his cursed energy into becoming stronger and saving as many as he could. He couldn't have any distractions, and he had been doing well with his plan ever since Shinjuku.

But once you were there, he was swept off of his feet almost instantly. He couldn't even try to stop it, because as strong as he was, he was weak at his knees just from looking at you. He knew you were special, but his eyes would never tell him exactly why, and he had to find out for himself or he would - as he had convinced himself - die.

He was over the moon for you. He tried to keep his distance, but how was he supposed to control himself when you kept talking to him at work, asking questions and requesting his help? At some point, he had found he memorized the crinkle in your eye when you smile, the way your cursed energy blended with his, and the curve of your upper lip that had always looked so delicious that he predicted it would be the best sweet he'd ever taste (which he eventually was able to confirm).

After very obviously swooning over you for about a year, Gojo found the courage to ask you to dinner, to which you asked why it took him so long to ask, and then you said yes to the date after that, and to the one after that, and to the one after that, and so on.

Which brings him to today - several dinner dates and a few coffee dates and one willyoupleasepleasepleasebemygirlfriend later. It's still early in the relationship, the time where it's all so fresh and new, and you are trying to figure out each other. At this point, you have practically moved into Gojo's home, with the excuse that it was closer to the school and on the way, so why not stay there all the time and bring all of your belongings with you - even your cat?

Satoru Gojo stares at you and starts to think that maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't be able to live without waking up to this everyday.

Maybe he could let himself depend on this. On you.

Maybe this is what love feels like.

The realization reverberates in his mind as he takes a deep breath, trying to ground himself as he feels like he's dreaming alongside you. Your eyes crack open, growing more conscious as well as increasingly aware of your boyfriend's intense stare. You turn to look at him, confirming your suspicions, then cover your face to block his view.

"Hi, baby," Satoru quietly speaks, smile on his face spreading from the how adorable you are. "Sleep well?"

You smile at the softness of his voice - one that he only uses with you. "Woke up to you staring at me, creep," you tease. Satoru lets out a breathy laugh, watching as you reveal your face to him again. He reaches a hand to move a strand of hair blocking your eyes, allowing himself a clearer view of you.

"Sorry, you're just so pretty. I can't help myself, my pretty, pretty girl. 'm so lucky," Satoru coos. He tucks the strand behind your ear, bringing his hand down to your cheek. He leans your head toward his and places a gentle kiss to your forehead, a silent way of telling you he loves you.

Eventually, he'll find lots of ways to tell you he loves you without even speaking the words. Eventually, he will shower you with everything you could ever want, buy you sweets on missions, open doors for you, keep you safe, everything he can do to show how he feels about you to the world. Eventually, he will tell you those three dangerous words - and right now he is thinking of some extravagant ways to - but now is not the time.

Right now, he needs to savor this and savor you. Stressing about the so-called "L-Bomb" can be done later. Right now, he just wants you.

"Toru," you chastise, dragging on the end of the nickname only you can call him. It's a teasing scold, one full of sarcasm and sleepiness, and it made Toru's smile widen even more. He stares at you, his eyes uncovered and taking all of you in, no barrier between the two of you. No blindfold on, no sunglasses on; he lets you see all of him without filter, something so few are every granted permission to have a peek at.

You stare right back, somehow even more lost in his eyes than he is in yours. They truly are mesmerizing. They draw you in and have since the moment you first shared a glance with them - if someone told you his eyes had some magic love potion with no antidote, you would believe them. You lean up, landing a quick peck on his lips, and smile up at your boyfriend.

Yeah, he could get used to this.

The Satoru Gojo never needs to depend on anyone for anything, but sometimes, Your Toru just needs you. His pretty girl.

thank you for readdinnggggg i hope you like!

[brewed-pangolin]

Just a little bit of Soap comfort...

18+MDNI

--

You didn't have to call him. He was already waiting on your doorstep when you came home.

"C'mere, bonnie." His voice was like velvet. Soothing the open nerves of your heart while his arms welcomed you into his loving sanctuary.

You had cured an unspoken bond when you were together. It was so long ago, yet the tendrils of devotion still pulled at your souls like vines. Stubborn and overgrown.

"I still love ya, y'know." He spoke soflty into the delicate fibers of your hair. Burying your head into his chest, encapsulated within the safety of his embrace as your world shattered like emotionally stained glass all around you.

"I can't do this, Johnny. Not now." Your feigned attempt a reluctance was met by a tighter hold of his arms around you.

"I know. We donnae 'ave to do anythin'. Jus' talk if ya want."

-

That 'just talk' lasted no more than thirty minutes before Johnny had you splayed out underneath him.

Every thrust fracturing your soul. Every fragmented whimper swallowed by his greedy void. Feasting relentlessly on your heartache, emptying the pain within your chest. Filling the vacuum with his overwhelming tenderness to dull the burn of healing as your mind and body cauterized itself from yet another failed relationship.

"Johnny," you whimpered breathlessly into his mouth.

"I know, bonnie. I know."

His wavering timbre sending you barreling into overstimulatation. Clenching your eyes, digging your nails into his flesh of his back as the pulse of an orgasm radiates deep within your pelvic floor.

"Open your eyes, love. Got'a see ya. Fuck, miss seein' ya like this."

You willingly follow his grunting command. Meeting his gaze, immediately drowning in his cerulean seas as you reach your climax and blissfully convulse around him.

"Joh-" your murmured whine was quickly silenced by his mouth. Defeaning your moans as he slows his pace, his hips stuttering with a growly moan as he abruptly empties himself deep within your welcoming caverns.

"I fuckin' love ya, bonnie. Love ya so goddamn much."

"I know, Johnny." His exhausted proclamation ricocheted off the walls and straight into your heart. Cementing the borders of your soul once more as you found yourself again within the deep recesses of his eyes.

You trail a finger across his sweat covered brow. Curling tendrils of his overgrown mohawk behind his ear, find your voice once more as his body steadily trembles above you.

"You wanna try again, Johnny? See what happens?"

"Aye. I'd try fer a lifetime if it meant I could 'ave jus' one night wit you."

You sealed the next juncture of your renewal with a kiss. Rekindling the flame between your conjoined bodies as the doors of eternity opened in a welcoming embrace.

--

I don't know what this is, besides a heap of emotional mumbo-jumbo. Whatever. I love writing SoftSoap. And writing this just healed my soul.

Drabbles Masterlist

@deadbranch @sofasoap @jynxmirage @glitterypirateduck @homicidal-slvt @astraluminaaa @punishmepunisher @d3athtr4psworld @ghosts-goldendoodle @obligatoryghoststare @shotmrmiller @writeforfandoms @thetrashpossum @simpingoverquestionablemen @mykneeshurt @haurasha @kkaaaagt @luismickydees

[eunbitchh]

casual

pairing: amber freeman x fem!reader, college!au

word count: 1.3k

summary: in which you confront amber about your relationship, or lack thereof.

warnings: smut, pussy eating, fingering, angst

fic inspo from the midwest princess herself, chappell roan

i MIGHTTT write a part 2?? i haven’t decided yet lmao

you and amber had a.. complicated relationship to say the least. you can’t exactly remember how it happened, maybe it was at one of her parties? but here you were, on a night like many others, head trapped between her thighs eating her out like she was your last meal. her hand laced through your hair, pushing your head further into her cunt, not giving you a chance to breathe. it’s not that you wanted to breathe anyways, you would happily die drowning in her juices. amber was an addiction, one that you needed satiated on a regular basis. your hookups initially started off very minimal. a bootycall one in awhile, but they quickly picked up to being a multiple times a week thing. your favorite bra lived in her dresser, just because of how often you visited her dorm room. it became the more convenient place for it to be.

if you had to guess, it was amber who proposed the idea to you. you had always thought she was beautiful, but you weren’t the type to make a first move. amber had always been bold, forward even, while in contrast you would agree to do anything had she asked you to do it. that’s how you always came to be in this exact scenario, your mouth practically vacuum sealed to her clit while your fingers were knuckle deep in her pussy. your wrist ached but you couldn’t care less, continuing you ministrations on her. it was all worth it, for the view of her writhing around falling apart for you paired with the sweet moans that continually fell through her lips. that’s what always kept you coming back for more.

your biggest mistake was catching feelings along the way. well, that was putting it lightly.. you found yourself having fallen in love with her, but you could never tell that to her. after every hookup she made it abundantly clear that it was “just a casual thing” since it was supposedly easier that way. you found yourself agreeing with her words, despite not truly feeling the same about what you were doing. you had never really brought it up with her, not wanting to cut off what little relationship you had. in retrospect that wasn’t a good idea either, you knew that. what was between the two of you wasn’t healthy, but you didn’t want it to end. you truly wished to be with her and this was the only way it could be done, so be it.

at first it was enough to satisfy your yearning to be with her, and it was certainly enough to satisfy her sexual urges. you knew what made her tick, every hit of your fingers deliberately hitting her g-spot, every flick of your tongue and suck from your mouth perfectly stimulating her clit, and how your hands fit her body just right while you held her close to your face. you managed to make her fall apart within seconds, repeatedly. you were by far the best lover she’s ever had. yet it still wasn’t enough for her to love you despite all those things, and it was getting to the point where it was no longer enough for you anymore on top of all that. deep down you wanted- needed her love.

she came hard for you as per usual, her orgasm coating your tongue and you gladly drank her cum, taking every last drop she gave to you until she pushed your head away feeling far too sensitive from your touch. you wiped the remainder of her cum off your face, having been coated from your lips to your chin. you always got carried away with her, you couldn’t help it when she tasted so sweet. she made it hard to be “casual”. it was even harder when you got to have such intimate aftercare with her. cleaning her up with a warm washcloth, carefully cleaning her up while she whispered praises about how good you felt, how you were so good to her. it made your heart hurt so much worse than it already did. she would hold you for a while, soft touches to your skin in return, before you would leave and repeat the process another day.

you left feeling more dejected every time. you couldn’t keep doing this. it was effecting your mental health, your other friendships, and worst of all, your grades. this had the potential to ruin your future, you had to change things. fast. that’s how you got here, in front of her dorm. palms cold and clammy, nerves going haywire. she opened the door, a little taken aback at your unexpected appearance before a smile graced her features as she opened the door wider for you to come in. she thought you were here for a different reason than why you actually came. she led you over to her bed, as usual, raising her eyebrow at you when you sat down and nervously played with the hem of your shirt.

“alright spill, what’s on your mind?” she asked, her tone suspicious as she eyed you.

you sighed, meeting her gaze hesitantly.

“look, amber.. i know that we agreed to be casual but-“ she held her hand up, effectively cutting you off.

“stop beating around the bush. get to your point, y/n.” her arms were crossed over her chest now, growing more impatient by the second.

you bit the inside of your cheek, another bad habit you had picked up recently before finally spilling your issue to her.

“i’ve.. fallen in love with you.” you mumbled, avoiding her gaze.

silence hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. you heard her take a couple steps back from you, almost like she was putting a wall between the two of you.

“y/n.. you can’t love me. that’s not what we agreed to.. we promised each other “no attachments”, remember?” her voice had an edge to it, her tone far more harsh than you were used to. it felt like she was ripping your heart out and slowly tearing it to shreds right in front of you.

“i know, i didn’t mean to fall in love with you, but i couldn’t help it-“

“get out.” she cut you off, turning away from you, not daring to look at you.

“amber please.. can we please talk about this??” you begged. you knew how pathetic you sounded but you were desperate, you didn’t want to lose her, not like this.

“i said GET OUT!” she rose her voice, words like hot venom on her tongue as she spun around to face you. her face contorted in sheer anger, frustration.

white hot shame coursed through your body as you rose from her bed, heading towards the door you had only entered through a couple minutes ago. this isn’t how you imagined this conversation going at all. you had deluded yourself with fantasies of her introducing you to her friends, a shared apartment with her, a future with her. you truly thought she thought of you better. more than just some girl she bangs when she needed a release. how stupid of you.

“goodbye, y/n.” she spoke lowly, having nothing more to say to you.

“go to hell, amber.” you responded pettily, hearing the door slam shut behind you. you ran your hands across your face, gathering yourself and your emotions so you wouldn’t wind up crying right there on the spot and embarassing yourself further. you didn’t bother sparing another second to take one last look at her door when you left, your heart couldn’t stand to. you hated yourself for letting things go on for so long, and you hated how things ended between you two even more.

you had thought it was hard being casual, but now you were being faced with something even harder. being nothing at all.

[marcelloandtyler]

“Would you like to upgrade to a balcony room for an extra $125 each?”

Nico glanced at Marcello, who shrugged.

“Uh, hell yeah,” he said, handing his Credit Card to the woman at the cruise terminal. It’d been a long and exhausting morning of traveling from Boston to New York to board the ship that’d take them to fifteen ports over the course of a summer. Nico had won the cruise, which Marcello had been convinced was a scam right up until their tickets were scanned at the beginning of the massive security line.

And it seemed like their luck was improving. An entire, summer’s long vacation with everything included for less than they’d ever pay in rent for just a single month. So far, all they’d pre-paid for were tips, a couple of pre-booked excursions, and a few specialty restaurants. The trade off was that Marcello would not be able to save money over the summer, but he supposed he’d make do when he got back.

The woman handed them their key cards and gave them a spiel about where to wait until the letter on their key card was called (it was an E). Marcello stopped in the bathroom while Nico grabbed a hot dog from a stand inside the terminal, insisting he wanted a genuine NYC, American sendoff before embarking on an international experience. Marcello didn’t bother reminding him that the food served on the ship would likely include plenty of American cuisine. His brother was clearly starting to feel the fat edible he’d forgotten he had in his carry on and had shoved in his mouth before going through security. The rest of his weed was vacuum sealed and so deep inside of his bad that Marcello doubted they’d ever get it out.

He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment as he washed his hands in the public restroom, inhaling the sterile scent of bathroom cleaner and liquid hand soap. There were bags under his eyes. He lifted a hand to his hair, trying to fix a stray strand. When someone came in, he didn’t look at them and instead moved to dry his hands. When he turned around with the paper towel in his hand, he saw a very good looking guy around his age and gave him a tight smile before tossing out the towel and exiting to find Nico.

[pedge-page]

Joel Dealing with Sarah: Super Woman, Super Wife

- - - -

Little Sarah having a blast today going to the park then meeting with friends then getting ice cream, just pure summer fun all day with Dad as her chauffeur. Until it's night time and she's in her car seat and suddenly remembers something, looks around desperately, and starts panicking:

She lost her favorite squishmellow.

Starts screaming and crying and kicking her feet, and Joel is freaking out because it's literally the only thing she sleeps with, carries around 24/7, in the mud and in the pool, to bed and to dinner, and if she lost it.... its all hell. And he knows it probably fell out of the car on the road at some point today as she got in and out of the back. The chances of finding it all torn up and squished into the asphalt are slim as is.

You get a frantic 3 calls from Joel. When you pick up, you hear uncontrolled wailing in the background.

"Joel I can't hear you! What's going on?"

"ITS ALL FUCKING HELL BREAKING LOOSE!" He shouts into the receiver, one finger plunged deep into his ear canal while pressing his phone into the other.

"Im coming home! Just wait for me!"

-

You rush through the door, a raucous of fat tears and inconsolable shrieks greeting you. Joel is literally burying Sarah in a mountain or her stuffed animals trying to calm her. He thinks youre gonna run towards them and give her a big hug and do SOMETHING Mommy Magical. Instead, you run upstairs without greeting them.

Joel keeps trying, his ears ringing, ready to just duct tape her mouth shut. Nothing is giving her any peace unless it's her one of a kind, super soft , special, best friend, s--

"SQUISHY!!!"

As Sarah reaches forward, smiling for the first time all afternoon, Joel sees you approaching excitedly, waving her pristine and glorious squishmellow. His daughter grasps it tightly and hugs it with all her might.

"How the hell did you find it?" Joel asks you. He's beyond fucking amazed. His superhuman, super hero, magician of a wife never once failing to deliver. He thinks you should write a book on your powers. "How did you get it so clean??"

As Sarah reunites with her Squishy, you take Joel upstairs to the back of your closet, in a high reach inconspicuous box labeled "for emergencies only". He always assumed it was an extra stash of bandaid, or maybe some special makeup in case you get a random case of acne.

You open the mysterious cover and reveal 10 vacuumed sealed, brand new, unopened squishmellows EXACTLY like the one Sarah has downstairs.

"You thought I just bought one the first time?" You chuckle at Joel's jaw dropped expression, probably marveling at what a fucking genius you are.

Though when you two return downstairs, your heart stops for a moment as Sarah suspiciously eyes her seemingly "rescued" plush from afar. Narrow eyes of distrust on its gleaming perfect unstained, brightly colored body, as if she can smell it's factory newness, false nose, and her scheming parents...

Thankfully, she shrugs and goes back to feeding it her dinner at the table. You and Joel let out a sigh of relief.

[mechaknight-98]

Team Up I (NSFW) FT Chodan and Momo

Authors Note: Have y'all checked out Qwer… I mean Sheesh. Also I am aware that I may have a type. Part II: Coming eventually

The first time I met Chodan I was at a random bookstore in California looking for the most recent volume of Kaiju no. 8, Go Go Loser Ranger and ultraman. I noticed her nabbing a few copies of bleach (my favorite of the big three) she was wearing a simple white shirt and dark pants. Cautiously I approach she tracks me and I force my most confident and resolute smile. I think of an opener but she beats me to it. 

“I see you like manga. How do you feel about Bleach.” She asked. 

“It is my favorite of the big three. I love its expressive art style and how the author portrays and draws “black characters” his portrayal is only second to the author of Soul Eater and Fire Force” I respond. The lady smiles like I passed her test.

“My name is Chodan,” I nod 

“Okay Chodan  I dig it, but seeing you up close up you have this weird sense of familiarity.” I lied. Chodan  smirked

“Well, that depends are you on twitch.” She asked seductively she was surprised when I shook my head. Seeing the opportunity I say, 

“I got it,” I say mock recollecting, “you’ve been the lady running around in my dreams” Chodan laughs and smiles.

“You’re funny I like that. What’s your name?” She questioned 

                        Two years later

“Okay, Cho. I am at arrivals,” I say to my girlfriend who’s been driving around the airport waiting for me. She had flown in the week prior for a series of shows across Japan. I was flying in to see "League of Legends" World championship which was in Tokyo this year. I was also staying an extra two days to see the showcase because I love her so much. She didn’t know it though. 

When I saw her I smiled. “Hey sexy thing, you waiting for me?” she asked as she rolled the window. I smile as I get in 

“You know you saying that makes me sound like a prostitute,” I tease.

Cho smiles back, “Well maybe I think you are a cheap whore. You would still be my favorite though.” I laugh with her as she drives off.

“So where are we heading?” I ask as she drives from the airport.

“Our little love nest than a PC Bang probably, don't worry though they have a card shop attached so you can play commander,” Chodan said with a smile. 

“You know me so well,” babe I say as she pulls up to the Hotel’s parking Chodan smiles before kissing my cheek. We get into the hotel and I set my bag down and take in the view. 

“You like it?” Chodan asks. I nodded and turned to her

“Yes, but I like this view more,” I say as I watch her take off her jacket and reveal her tight tank top. I kiss her and she chuckles

"You're such a slut you know that," She teases while bringing me in for a passionate kiss. her hands wander across my chest and arms before she breaks the kiss and lifts the tank top over her head. her eyes are wide with lust as I smile before responding

"Well, when my girlfriend looks this hot how can I say no, ya know?"

"Well, Why can't I just be sexy without my whore of a boyfriend needing to fuck me?" She teases back. Playing her game I respond in kind

"I can take a nap we don't have to do this," I respond. Cho responds aggressively by throwing my shirt off me and forcing my pants open. 

"I have gone without this evil but delicious cock for 4 months. you are not going to deprive me of it any longer," she growls and I worry slightly because she's never done that before. but my fears are soon pushed away as she takes my cock into her mouth. Her tight vacuum seal around my rod is intoxicating and causes me to begin moaning for her

“Ah fuck Jihye,” I moan out reverting to her real name. She takes me in further than she ever has as her throat relaxes around my cock and her eyes scream at me to go deeper, so I lightly grab the sides of her head before fulfilling her request. I plunge my cock deeper. Her gags and my moans are the only audible sounds resonating in the room I look down at my lovely girlfriend and gone is the cute girl I have come to love and cherish replaced with a hungry predator. She devoured my rod with the fervor of a starved animal. 

Her adorable bright eyes left dark tainted by the shadow of lust as her throat stretched to accommodate me. Her eyes invite, no demand I cum down her throat as she challenges me to fuck her face harder, which I do. I thrust with more force as she gags more on my cock her eyes roll into the back of her head signifying her satisfaction. Her spit is flying her makeup is ruined but she is euphoric in her body as I watch her finger herself. Unable to hold off any longer my dick churns massive amounts of cum down her throat as I exploded into her tight wet throat. Chodan moans causing an almost secondary orgasm on top of my original one but I hold out. I needed to own her pussy as well. When I left her mouth she stared at me with a disheveled but blissed-out look, 

“Thank God I had that itch in my throat for months, and only your cock could scratch it” Chodan joked before stripping the rest of her clothes. Her tight body enticed me to further depravity but what sealed the deal was her sizable bust swaying in the cool air hypnotizing me to fuck her for real this time. I grabbed Chodan wordlessly causing her to yelp before I stuff her pussy with my cock 

“Hey? Ooh fuck.” her voice went from a high-pitched yelp to a pleased moan. My cock invaded her insides as she said, “Oh is my slut gonna cum again?” she always knew the words to set me off as I began slowly I pulled out just enough for the tip to remain in her before slamming my whole length back in. Chodan moaned no longer having the mental capacity to do anything other than take my cock which she always did so well. I groped her mesmeric orbs she called breasts and forced her body to be flush with mine instead of having her bent over the bed. My primal instincts took over as I thrust into like an animal trying to impregnate her. The harder the better. 

Chodan throughout all could only moan before she came on my cock. Her moans rang through my ears like melodic percussion as she lost herself to the pleasure but I as her drenched and sloshed pussy squelched and squeezed my high was not far off. I explode into my girl as she moans “Oh God yes, oh God yes,” we collapsed onto the bed with my cock still inside her. When we woke up she rode my cock again to her and my fulfillment. Then we took a quick chaste shower Cho and I went to the PC Bang she mentioned.

You and Momo were heading to PC Bang after a long and stressful day at work. As you walk in Chodan and I bump into y'all.

"Oh Gomen," I reply. You look at me with a curious look as I return the look.

We stare at each other for a bit of time before Momo says to Chodan, how pretty her hair is. you notice my deck bag and ask if I play mtg in English. I nod and you gesture for Chodan and me to join you. Momo and Chodan split off while we find a nice table to play at. 

"Do you play modern?" You ask.

I nod.

"Oh good, I hate 1v1 commander."

"I do as well," I reply, "that is why I built Domain Zoo," I added.

"Okay good you are playing an archetype and not Jank," you reply relieved pulling out indomitable creativity. We get set up and I face you. I pull out my dice. 

"Do you want to go first or should I?" I ask. You point to yourself and I give you the thumbs up. We shuffle up and you and pregame action I play Leyline of the guildpact. You give me a thumbs up and play your turn 1 Ragavan. It gets to my turn I play an arid mesa and tap it for an Esper sentinel. you look at me surprised and then on your next turn you cast a bolt (directed at me)  and then I draw a card. You swing Ragavan and pull a leyline of the guild pact off of my top. I shrug at this, but before we can get further into the game the building begins to shake. We look at each other and run outside. As expected a Kaiju is wreaking havoc on the city. I take out my transformer and you take out yours as we do our transformations “Hyperion” you yell

“Hyperion X” I yell

We transform and fight the kaiju. Through our combined efforts it honestly barely an issue. We deactivated our transformations before the HDF could even arrive. 

“So you’re also a Hyperion?” you ask. I nod and quantify 

“But I was born here,” your eyes narrow and you respond

“Hmm, that’s a first,” you say.

I shrug and reply

“Well my parents like this planet, as do you it seems,” I tease as I watch our girlfriends walk up to us in their full HDF combat attire. 

“Oh good Dota you’re safe,” Chodan says relieved. You and Momo look at me confused. 

“Dota?” You question.

“Oh right, I never introduced myself. My name is Dakota King but everyone calls me Dota usually.” I respond you nod and then Momo says,”

“Okay well then Dota and Chodan how about we get some lunch since our date was ruined,” Cho and I nod as we follow the older couple. We went to a nearby restaurant and had a pleasant experience where got to know each other. I learned that Momo and you were part of Japan's HDF force (You were a cleaner, and Momo was a fighter), and we also learned that Chodan's subgroup would be working with Momo's group for one of the upcoming showcases. After we ate our fill Chodan and I left.

"They seem nice," Momo says to you when the two of you get back to your shared apartment. 

You nod, and reply, "I wonder if they have any other plans? Maybe we can see them again."

Mom lights up, "Ooh I'd love that," she says happily. The two of you then quickly discard the other's clothing and begin making out. Momo moans into the kiss. 

"Someone is excited," you say to her. Momo nods, 

"I have you all to myself tonight, and I am going to enjoy it," Momo said. 

[the-badger-mole]

Destined

Zuko hated the idea of destiny. It seemed that nothing he actually chose for himself really mattered. Did anyone ask if he wanted to be the Fire Lord to lead the country out of war? Did anyone care? No, it seemed they did not. When he tried to talk to his uncle, he got nowhere. Iroh empathized with his nephew-of course he did- but it was not his destiny to lead the Fire Nation. No, his destiny was a tea shop where he could make small talk with his regulars.

Bitterness got him nowhere, though. Zuko realized that on one level. On another level, he wasn't even twenty yet, and he was already finding grey hairs from the stress. He loved his country. He loved it enough to shudder at the idea of the power vacuum that would form if he should ever abdicate. The throne, he'd realized long ago, was his destiny. Sometimes, destiny felt like a shackle.

Katara felt like a prisoner. She loved Aang. Of course she loved him. She wouldn't be here if she didn't. He'd chosen the Southern Air Temple as their home, and she'd loved being introduced to his culture. Truly she had. But Katara also wished that Aang would be more open to incorporating more of her culture, too. It wasn't like everything the in the Southern Water Tribe had to do with bringing animal products into the home. Katara had given up her warm furs and hearty stews. For the most part. She still partook whenever she was home, which was oftener than Aang liked, but not enough for Katara. She felt like a foreigner in the wide halls of the air temple. Especially since the Acolytes had taken residence.

The Acolytes were a particularly sore point for Katara. The way they fawned over Aang hit the back of her mouth like a bitter melon and made her jaw clench. Aang swore up and down that she didn't need to feel intimidated by them. That once she'd gotten used to the way things worked around the air temple, she would feel much better. And she would get used to it. She had to. It was her destiny to be with Aang forever. He was the the powerful bender she was supposed to end up with. That's what Aang kept reminding her when she brought up how uncomfortable his relationship with some of the Acolytes made her. That's what he said when he failed to stop them from making comments about her being the Avatar's First Girlfriend, or from sticking their noses into her business about the few Southern Tribe artifacts she kept in her own room. So what if they happened to be made of bits of animals? She wasn't going to get rid of the ram seal horn her father and brother painstakingly carved for her, or the fur parka her Gran Gran sewed for her no matter how many disapproving looks she got over them.

"We'll figure it out," Aang often told her. "You and me are destined, so it has to work out."

Destiny felt like a weight. Duty more than inclination steered the ship, but maybe the ship would be better dashed against the rocks and sunk to the ocean floor.

It was completely by accident that they discovered they felt the same way about destiny. Zuko had been looking for a place to hide from the foreign diplomats attempting to corner him into discussions he was far too overwhelmed, and they far too many drinks in to discuss at the opening banquet of the sixth annual Summit. He found Katara had not only discovered his favorite hiding place, but had set up camp with an assortment of grilled meats on a stick- a Fire Nation specialty that had until Zuko's reign been more popular among the populace than the upper class.

"Sorry," Zuko said, already backing out of the secluded balcony.

"For what?" Katara asked. "This is your home. You have more a right to be here than I do." She had a point, Zuko had to admit. Not out loud, but still.

"I didn't mean to disturb you," he told Katara.

"You haven't," she assured him. She gestured to her meal with a rueful smile. "I just didn't want Aang shaking his head at me while I ate. I don't mind having company... Or would you rather not have company?"

"I didn't really want company," Zuko admitted. "Not of most people here. But I wouldn't mind yours." Katara smiled and slid her plate towards him.

"I'm not going to be able to finish all of this on my own," she told him. "My eyes were bigger than my stomach this time." Zuko took a skewer awkwardly and sat beside Katara.

"Is Aang really that bad that you have to eat meat in secret?" he asked half-joking. Katara rolled her eyes.

"Killing animals just to eat is wrong!" she mimicked his preaching tone. "How would you feel if it was Appa or Momo you were being served?"

"Sorry I asked," Zuko chuckled. "I won't tell about your secret meal if you don't tell that I'm hiding from King Kuei."

"Well, he is very intimidating," Katara chuckled.

"You laugh," Zuko said dryly. "Have you ever been cornered by him? The guy can never just get to the point. He has to talk around the issue in circles until I want to scream at him to just spit it out. But I can't do that because I'm the Fire Lord." Zuko scowled off into the distance and took an aggressive bite out of his skewer.

"If it helps," Katara said hesitantly. She cleared her throat. "If it helps, I think you're doing an amazing job."

"Yeah?" Zuko smirked at her. "Glad someone thinks so."

"I'm sure a lot of people think so," Katara insisted. She turned towards him and held his gaze. "Zuko, you're doing an amazing job as Fire Lord. I'm glad it's you who ended up on the throne."

"I know, I know," Zuko scoffed. "It's my destiny."

"No," Katara said slowly. "I think...I think it's more than destiny. I think you were the right person for the job because you chose to be."

"Is that what you think?" Zuko asked, raising his brow at her. Katara nodded firmly.

"What is destiny, anyway?" she asked. She sounded strangely emotional. Zuko eyed her worriedly. Katara held a skewer in a grip so tight, Zuko was worried the stick would snap. But she took a breath and found a wavery smile.

"I think what makes you such a great Fire Lord is the fact that you care," she said. "Maybe it was your destiny to lead the Fire Nation, but it's who you are that makes you so good at it."

"You think so?" Zuko asked. Katara nodded firmly.

"Just because you're destined for something doesn't necessarily mean it's supposed to be something good. I think..." Katara frowned and thought for a moment. "I think maybe someone's destiny isn't supposed to be good. After all, it seems like Ozai was destined to be Fire Lord. At least for a little while. Even the war must have been destined. So if destiny can be good or bad, then maybe it's up to us to decide which it's going to be."

Zuko had the distinct feeling that Katara wasn't just talking about his destiny as Fire Lord. This felt more personal. This felt like a moment for him to say something profound. He had nothing.

"Not everything is destiny," he tried, hoping that he could help her with whatever it was that had made her so morose.

"How do you know which is which, then?" Katara asked. Zuko shrugged. He leaned back against the wall and looked up at the stars.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe...maybe trying to identify destiny is a mistake. Maybe...it's more important to try to do what's right. Even when it's hard."

"But how do I know what's right?" Katara huffed, and leaned back against the wall beside Zuko.

"i don't really know." Zuko chewed his lip pensively. "When Uncle told me he wouldn't take the throne, I thought it was a huge mistake. I thought he was the best fit for it. After all, of the two of us, he was actually groomed for the part. But after I took the throne....? I don't know...It didn't feel right immediately. It still doesn't feel right to me sometimes, but I did it. At the time, I resented uncle for not at least taking the throne until I was of age, but now that I've been Fire Lord for a few years, I get it. Uncle...he is a good man, but he did some terrible things. He's tried to make up for it, but it was never going to be enough. Not enough to expect everyone to be comfortable with him on the throne. I get it now. I think me taking the throne was the right thing to do. It has been hard. It's been lonely, too. But it was the best call either of us could make.

"But you didn't know it was right when you did it," Katara pointed out.

"No," Zuko tapped his finger thoughtfully on the flagstone. "I don't think I was completely sure that I was the best fit for Fire Lord. I still think Uncle would've been the better choice, history aside. I think there are a lot of much smarter people who probably deserve to be here instead of me. But I also know that there wasn't anyone who had a shot at taking the throne who would care about reparations to the other countries, or about rebuilding for the lower classes. I love my people, Katara, and I think...I think that helped me figure out what I needed to do, even if I don't always like it. I almost never like it."

Katara blinked hard against the tears that had suddenly sprang up in her eyes. She reached out for his and squeezed it tight. She knew how hard leading was for Zuko at times. He did it gracefully, though. He did it fairly, and she could see the progress the Fire Nation had made under him. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was substantial. If only she could feel that, at least. If only her destiny could make her feel half so accomplished.

"I wish I didn't know what my destiny was," she sighed. "Maybe if I felt like I had even as much choice as you have, I'd feel better." Zuko shot her a strange look. He had so many questions, but none of them felt appropriate. Instead he sighed and scooted closer to Katara.

"Maybe you need to focus less on what you think your destiny is and focus more on what you feel is right," he said. "I know you. Your sense of right and wrong is...well, it's unshakeable. I trust your judgement, even if you don't. If you were making the right choices, you wouldn't feel this conflicted. Even if your choice made you uncomfortable, if you thought it was the right one...well, you wouldn't be on a balcony alone eating secret yakitori." Zuko held up a skewer and waved it at Katara. She laughed and pushed his hand away.

"What if I make a choice and it's the wrong one?" Katara asked.

"I don't see that happening," Zuko said, grinning at her. "But even if you do make a mistake, I think you're smart enough to fix it. I'd help you, if you wanted. And so would Sokka and the Chief. So would all of us." Katara flinched at that. Zuko pretended not to notice.

"What would you do if you didn't know your destiny?" he asked. Katara sat quietly for a long while, looking thoughtfully across the garden below. She absently ran her thumb over Zuko's fingers.

"I think ...I think I'd like to go back to the Northern Tribe," she said. "To finish learning healing from Yugoda. Then I'd like to go the Foggy Swamp and learn swampbending. Then I'd like to find every copy of Southern style bending scrolls I could get my hands on and learn that, too."

"Then you should!" Zuko insisted. "Do that. I'll help when I can. My grandfather kept things from every nation he could. I'm having everything organized and sent back to where they came from. I'm working on the Earth Kingdom now, but I don't have anyone to help sort through all the Water Tribe artifacts. The job is yours, if you want it.

"Are you serious?" Katara gasped. Zuko nodded with a grin.

"I was planning to ask your father to recommend someone soon," he told Katara. "Maybe it's your destiny to do that, for whatever it's worth. I mean, it's an important job, but it's not a long one. Maybe six months to a year. But maybe it'll give you a chance to think about what you want. What you think it the right thing for you to do."

Katara considered his offer for a moment. Her initial reaction was to insist that she couldn't do that. That Aang needed her. But she bit her tongue and thought. What did Aang need her for? She cooked his meals, kept the Air Temple tidy, and kept his diary for him. It was important to keep the Avatar on task, but was it right? Was it right for her?

Soon, all the points in favor of it presented themselves. Sure keeping the Avatar on track was important, but reclaiming all of the Southern style bending she could? Learning everything she could about waterbending? The thought made her heart ache with a longing she'd almost forgotten how to feel. If Aang really was her destiny, he'd understand why she wanted to do this. After all, he was also working to reclaim Air Nomad culture.

It was tempting.

It was tempting.

It was...

"I think..." Katara said slowly. She cleared her throat again and turned to Zuko. "I think I'll do that."

"Really?" Zuko's face lit up.

"Really," Katara said, nodding once sharply. Then she smirked at Zuko. "You're going to get sick of having me around."

"Never that," he swore. "Never, ever that."

[yuri-is-online]

Trey seeing you like his teasing and bullying, don't tempt the man. He's barely hanging on.

the following is a rough concept? warm up? from a long fic I have been writing on and off for months now. the context is that Trey is sick and Yuu has decided to bring him food before Riddle can kill him w/ Lilia on the assist.

Nothing too explicit... yet. yet

"Seriously." You sigh, focusing on the container and... quivering. Your arms are straining against the containers unintentional vacuum seal, did you run over here to see him as soon as you heard about him fainting? Or were you just too... he doesn't want to say stupid even though it catches in his throat along with his saliva when he sees you roll your lower lip under your teeth and grunt. "It's tight." Yes, something is, wound so tight it ought to snap.

"Need some help?" His voice is uncharacteristically breathy, as is the directness of the offer, and he thinks he can make out disappointment. A phantom strength allows him to sit up as his eyes narrow to let him see just that much better; he tries focusing on your teeth, it's the left canine that's denting your lip. It pushes in as he moves forward, threatens to pierce the flesh. The lump in his throat goes down as he floats more than moves up from the bed, resting his weight against his night stand.

"No." You bring the soup up to your chest before immediately bringing it back down. How silly of you, it must be really hot. "I keep telling you, I'm not doing this because I need you-" Trey moves his arm around to your other side, resting it on his desk and delighting in how clear your surprise is now that he has his glasses on.

"How kind of you." Your tongue peaks out to lick your canine and draws his attention back to your lips. Trey likes your lips, they're so... expressive. Uncontrollable, no matter how much you try to hide how much you want to have him around your lips always give you away. "But you've got to be doing this for some reason." Right now they purse, hooked on his bait and unaware of the line as he leans just a bit more forward crowding you closer to the desk. "That's just how this school works." Your lip trembles. Three more teeth peak out of your mouth and Trey can't even be bothered to list the numbers in his head to distract from where the blood leaving his head is going. He wants to bite down, sink in his own teeth in place of yours and suck-

"Trey!" Thank the seven you put thought to put the food behind you before you went to catch him, Trey's heavy even if you only have to push him back over to his bed which thankfully isn't that far. "You're supposed to be resting." You snatch his glasses from his head before he can even manage to react but he doesn't seem to upset. He wiggles his head back into his pillow, and looks in your vague direction as you finally manage to pop the damn lid off the soup and try to convince yourself the heat hurting your face is from the steam and not your own stupid feelings. "I'll set this over here and get some tea."

"Make some for yourself too." You think you hear him say as you walk on out in a daze.

Trey closes his eyes and tries to take a deep breath without hating himself too much. Something is wrong with him, that's got to be the correct explanation for this.

[upsidedownwithsteve]

BAD FOR BUSINESS: THE BONUS LEVEL

Steve Harrington x fem!reader 18+

It was the first shift you’d had with Steve since you’d made each other come in the front seat of his car.

It had been as you expected: a little awkward, a little nerve wracking. Gazes meeting across the arcade, dim lights hiding Steve’s pink cheeks, your frantic, wide eyes, the hitched breaths every time the other came a little too close.

You stayed away for the most part, hidden behind the cash desk while Steve helped Mike Wheeler and his friends with the jerky controller on Space Invaders. But then the eight o’clock was rolling round and the customers left, Robin vacuumed the floors and Murray was hurrying out the door and telling you that you were in charge of locking up. The rain came when Robin left, her jacket stretched over her head as she ran to her mom’s car and then it was just Steve, watching you from across the desk.

The weather outside was a roar above your head, a deafening din of water of rain on the roof and with the machines powered down for the night, it was the only thing you could hear. Maybe, if you listened hard enough, you would’ve been able to hear your own heartbeat under it all, matching the erratic beat.

“You gonna help?” You asked Steve, just to break the tension. You gestured to the stack of receipts and tickets and coins on the desk that still needed counted. “Or are you just gonna gawk?”

Steve turned pinker under the lights, ultraviolet and fuschia, neon aquamarine from the glow of the games and Steve was too pretty under it all, prettier with his flushed cheeks. It gave you a little piece of normality back when he narrowed his eyes at you, brows furrowed, gaze bored. But his nose was still tinted pink when he reached your side and when his arm brushed yours, you hated and loved how close he was.

Your stomach flipped, tumbled, an endless fall into something you couldn’t make out. Not yet.

You stood in silence for minutes, maybe ten, maybe fifteen. Maybe it had only been one. But the tension was too much, it was splitting at the seams, it was cracking you open, a yawning, stretching ache in your chest, beating at your bones and—

“You’re not doing that right,” is what you said. And then you just shut up, lips sealed, features pinched as if in pain because it was taking you everything you had to not talk about the kiss. Both kisses. The two fucking kisses you’d shared with Steve fucking Harrington.

And it was easier to fight about it than anything else.

Steve scoffed like you knew he would, eyes rolling, lips curling. “How the fuck can I be doing it wrong?” He bit. “I’m counting tickets, princess, not balancing million dollar cheques.”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t. Because he was side by side with hand brushing yours every time you both reached across the desk and he was warm, he was solid and he was wearing the same cologne from the Photo Booth and if you were going to put your smart mouth to use again, it was going to be against Steve’s.

It was too hot and suddenly the rain above wasn’t the loudest thing in the room. You swallowed hard and tried to block out the best of your heart against your ribcage. It was so loud, you wondered if Steve could hear it too.

“What? No argument?” Steve glanced at you from the side of his eyes, frowning. You weren’t sure what gave it away, maybe your tensed shoulders, your blown out pupils. Whatever it was, it made the boy too bold. “You’re lookin’ a little warm, princess, you okay there?”

Smug. Steve sounded smug and it was fucking infuriating.

And then you were on him.

Or maybe it was the other way around, you were sure. It happened seconds ago, but you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t remember anything. All that mattered now was that your lips were fused to Steve’s and he was crowding you against the counter, his hands splayed against your sides, fingers slipping up over your ribs and making your shirt slide with it, bare skin exposed for him to touch, a gasp wrenched from his throat at the feel of you, your hands grabbing at his hair and pulling hard.

He was moaning, but maybe you were too, gasping into each others patted mouths and swallowing each others noises, noses smashed to cheeks and hands roaming, bodies pressed together in a desperate bid to get as close as possible with your clothes still on and you’d never been so glad that Murray never bothered with working security cameras.

Steve was saying your name, whispers of it between curses, making it sound like a prayer, like you were something holy, that you were gonna save him but you decided then and there you’d do whatever it took to make Steve sound the way he did - even if you went to hell with him.

But then he was pushing you away, panting, big hands curling around the backs of your knees and you were on the desk, tickets and coins scattering, sitting in a pool of neon lights and the silk of your splayed skirt.

Steve sucked in a breath, wrecked sounding. He’d never looked prettier. Swollen lips, pink cheeks, hair a riot from your teasing fingers, his eyes darker than they were supposed to be.

“I wanna go down on you, so fuckin’ badly.”

You swore out loud, brain glitching for a second, stuttering over the words that had gotten stuck in your throat and you were nodding, frantic, head bobbing and jaw hanging loose because Steve was dropping to his knees and sliding his palms up your thighs.

“M’gonna need some confirmation here, princess,” Steve urged, kissing across your knee, his hair tickling at the insides of your thighs.

You were tingling, an electric kind of buzz running under your skin, your body a livewire and you hadn’t felt this turned on since god knows fucking when. It was a filthy, pretty thing, dirty and wrong and in an inappropriate place with a beautiful boy who you’d tricked yourself into hating.

Supposedly.

So you let some sounds rip from your throat and thankfully they made words, desperate pleas of agreement and Steve was grinning, looking like he’d had all his wishes granted as he mouthed his way between your thighs. He didn’t hesitate and there was no shame from you either as he dragged up your skirt, fingers hooking into the cotton of your underwear so he could pull it to the side. He groaned, a breath punching from him as his lips parted at the sight of you, pretty and wet and waiting.

He made you squeal, smiling against you as he leaned in to kiss at your folds, delicate little things against your slick skin, nose nudging at your clit and then you moaned his name and he lost all sense of control.

“Steve, oh— ohmygod, fuck!” You lurched forward, body curling over him as you grabbed at the boy’s hair and Steve just answered in kind, hands curling around the tops of your thighs to pull you closer to him, your ass perched precariously on the edge of the counter, toes skimming the floor and you were almost riding his face, hips rolling as he held you up and licked broad stripes over your cunt.

He only moved back to press a surprisingly sweet kiss to the juncture of your thigh but he had your eyes rolling when he looked up at your from under his lashes, lips pink and wet from you. “M’so goddamn hard right now, you have no idea.”

You were crying out, an awfully loud moan ripping from your lips and you were putty, you were a mess. And for the next fifteen minutes, you were entirely Steve’s. He took you apart with his tongue and his lips and you let him, his blunt fingernails leaving half moon markings in your hips that’d you stare at in the mirror later.

And when you came, hard, grinding down onto Steve’s mouth, his chin, his nose, you let go of your manic grip on his hair and smoothed a hand over his temple instead, coaxing him closer before you gasped out his name, breathless.

The next morning, nobody could answer why there were tickets scattered over the floor, hidden under machines and stuck to forgotten bubblegum. And when the rest of the team looked to you and Steve for answers, you both just walked in opposite directions, matching smiles hidden in the shadows between the neon lights.

[bamsara]

"I just wanted to say. Thank you for protecting me"

Eclipse-Centric | Wordcount: 805 | AO3 Version

(Maybe some major spoilers for Solar Lunacy, TW for some robot gore, human injury)

The damage to their body was... extensive. Not life-threatening. But extensive.

You don't know how you're going to fix this right now, but Gramps has a toolbox in the shed, and there's duct tape underneath your kitchen sink, and Eclipse is very, very patient as he sits numbly on your coach, of few words and more looks, as you pluck out charred wires and plastic out of the hole in his arm to the robot that's probably held together less out of reasonable sense and more out of will and magic that you don't understand.

The arm that was torn off has sharp edges in the metal that cut at your fingertips when you try and brush it off, and you don't know if the animatronic feel pain if you were to try and sand it. So, in a comical fashion, you've put an oven mitt over the end of it, taping it to hold its place.

The other arms are laying limp, two on the couch, resting with its palm up in your lap. There's fried wiring around the elbow, dents in the forearm where Monty grabbed him, and openings that you can't tell look like they're from wolf claws or the steel of a knife.

The sight of them makes the wound under your own bandages ache for a moment, but you swallow back the wet soreness in your throat and continue working. The hospital gave you decent pain meds. You needed to stay on task while they were effective.

"Lift, please." You talk quietly, fearing that your voice may crack.

Eclipse doesn't respond, eyes locked onto the television. The news is playing, covering the fire. The sound is low so not to bother you. Still, the animatronic shifts his limbs for you, head turned towards the screen.

There's melted plastic stuck to his forearm, and you're peeling it off with chipped fingernails and whatever willpower you have left, flicking off the pieces onto the carpet to vacuum up later when you have the energy. Leaning back, you gather the duct tape from the coffee table, pulling out a strip to cover the hole in his shoulder.

It's...not what he needs. But it's all you have. All you can do is pick up the pieces and cover up the damage so it doesn't get any worse.

"I'm gonna put this over the opening, okay?" Two long strips are wide enough to cover this 'wound', and it seals the inside of the wiring away. "So nothing gets in your chassis. Or falls out."

Eclipse doesn't make a movement to acknowledge what you said, staring limply with the default smile toward the news broadcaster detailing the company's statement, and it's an estimate of the cost of damages.

Their ability to emote is not currently active, just like their voicebox. Not until they are both fixed. You wish they were active. You wish you could get something, a facial expression, a joke, a sentence, anything. You're taping your friend's fingers together like broken bones only theirs were stuck as claws.

A warmth travels down your face, past your mouth and you don't feel the wetness until it hits your neck. Lips pressed together into a thin line, you rub the tear away. You'll do that on your own time. Not now.

When you blink, you see a shift in the corner of your eye. Eclipse is staring at you now.

Your tongue feels swollen in your mouth. "I, uh-" You busy yourself with his hand, grey-tainted with burned-off paint and scorched sharp points. "I wanted to say thank you for protecting me. You know-" You keep your head low. "Back then."

He looks at you with black eyes and still pupils. The crack in his faceplate feels like guilt and sorrow in your ribcage.

You missed them saying things. You'd be happy for a stupid nickname, even.

The fingers you were treating suddenly tense in your grip, and by instinct, you let them go, until they turn and they fold around your own hand. Long, damaged fingers curl into your own, grasping your hand and holding it along with your wrist.

You freeze as Eclipse leans down, and his faceplate presses against your forehead. Not barely, but heavily, firmly, resting in your hair.

He lingers there as the news broadcast flashes familiar images on the screen, casting different colors on both of you.

You only raise a hand to press your fingertips to the bottom of his faceplate pushing him back as you mummer you needed to remove his ruffled collar so you can clean the soot you've spotted hidden underneath it.

He lets you, but the hand not using the rag stays in his hold, and his other comes up to palm away a warmth that falls from your face and onto your neck again.

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Countdown

"Villain, please-" Hero started.

"I told you not to try anything, and what did you do as soon as my back was turned? You realize you could've gotten hurt pulling a stunt like that?"

"I wouldn't have had to pull the stunt if you weren't holding me prisoner!"

"Prisoner?" Villain scoffed, "I've given you everything you could ever want, but if you insist you're a prisoner..."

Villain's expression darkened. They pulled a syringe from their pocket and approached Hero.

"I may as well treat you like one."

Hero scurried back on the bed, but Villain was quicker. They instantly jammed the syringe into Hero's skin, letting the contents flood their system. Hero's body began to feel numb and fuzzy. They collapsed on the bed, unable to hold themselves up.

"P-please-"

"The time for begging is over," Villain said, "here's what's going to happen. We're going to count down from five. I'll start us off. Five..."

Villain produced a roll of heavy-duty tape and began to wrap it around Hero, pinning their limbs together.

"Villain, wait!"

Villain ignored them. They stuffed squeezeballs in Hero's hands, then taped them up into useless stumps. They wrapped the rest of their body up, to the point that not an inch of them was visible below their neck. They then fetched a shiny, industrial black bag. The inside was coated with adhesive. They stuffed Hero inside, ignoring their protests, and vacuum sealed them in.

"Four..."

Villain shoved a squeezeball into Hero's mouth, holding it shut and smearing a strong adhesive over their lips. They then wrapped several layers of tape around their head, over their lips.

"Mm!!"

"Three..."

Villain wrapped more tape over Hero's eyes and the rest of their head. The only thing that wasn't covered was their nose.

"Mmph! Mm!"

"Shh," Villain cooed, "we're not done yet. Two..."

Villain shoved earplugs into Hero's ears, then snapped noise-canceling headphones over them as well.

"One."

They placed an oxygen mask over Hero's nose, that would keep a steady supply of the numbing drug in their system.

"Some time like this should teach you to behave," Villain said, not that Hero could hear them.

Villain left Hero's room and set about putting more security measures in place should their Hero make another escape attempt. Though Villain doubted they would after today. Meanwhile, Hero's muffled screams could barely be heard from their room.

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[delusionalbitchinthehouse]

Hi, I wanted to write ghoul’s night out antics, so here it is. This is pointless, they’re just being chaotic.

It’s late, the ghouls are all different degrees of drunk, it’s getting harder to maintain their glamor up in the dim light of the bar, and Swiss and Ifrit can’t keep their hands off of each other.

They’re probably the drunkest out of the little group that decided to go get drinks in town this otherwise boring Thursday night, and it shows. 

Swiss has a hand in Ifrit’s back pocket, an impressive fit given the vacuum sealed black jeans he’s wearing, groping the fire ghoul’s ass without any shame whatsoever. Ifrit isn’t much better, two hands shoved under Swiss’ shirt, roaming unsubtly on warm skin.

They’re swaying clumsily to the music, so close their foreheads keep knocking together, giggling and blushing in between heated kisses.

« Too much tongue, » Mist comments idly from her chair, spinning her beer bottle in her hands, « why do they always put too much tongue ? »

Rain shrugs on the stool next to her.

« Swiss likes it messy. »

« And Alpha taught Ifrit, » Pebble adds in a snigger that gets cut short when Alpha kicks his chair already kept in a precarious balance on two legs, sending Pebble sprawling on the floor. 

Dew silences them with an annoyed hush, invested in the two ghouls all over themselves a few feet away.

Swiss is mouthing at Ifrit’s neck now, the fire ghoul melting against him, hips canting up and knocking against Swiss’.

« Fritter’s getting worked up, » Aether chuckles, rubbing circles in the back of Dew’s hand.

« Bet his tail would be wagging if he were unglamored, » Pebble hums, still rubbing his elbow with a glare in Alpha’s direction, only looking away when the fire ghoul grins feral at him.

« ´s cute, » Mist huffs. She tilts her head back to down the rest of her bottle, gently knocking knees with Rain.

It is, in a way. At least until Ifrit scrambles for Swiss’ waist, pushing their hips together again. They rearrange themselves, heads on each other’s shoulders, in what could be a way to accommodate the slower romantic music, if not for the way their hips relentlessly grind together. 

They’re too drunk for subtlety, and what little costumers are still hanging around couldn’t miss what’s going on even if they tried to.

With a snort, Dew slouches against Aether, drumming his fingers on the arm the quint wrapped around his shoulders.

« Should we separate them, for decency’s sake, or wait and see how far they’ll go ? »

« C’mon, puddle, we all know you like the second option better, » Mist points out. She tries to take another swing from her bottle, only to to be reminded it’s empty. Aether hands her his, still half full, which she returns with a nod after a long sip.

The unmistakable sound of a half choked moan reaches their too keen to be human ears, Ifrit visibly biting his lip raw to keep some semblance of silence.

« Never been a quiet one, Ifrit. He’s gonna embarrass himself before the end of the song, I’m calling it, » Alpha huffs, now manspreading the day away next to Pebble, who, surprisingly, doesn’t protest.

Rain shakes his head, throwing his long legs on Dew’s lap.

« Nah, I have faith in him. He’ll hold on for two songs. »

« Oh you’re on, tadpole. »

With all their staring at Swiss and Ifrit, everyone misses Alpha’s hand slipping under the jacket thrown on Pebble’s lap, the way the earth ghoul tenses, a muscle twitching in his jaw, before he seemingly helplessly give in, legs parting slightly more.

Everyone but Mist, who sinks more comfortably in her seat to wait for when they’ll inevitably get kicked out. 

Who’s fault it will be is yet to be determined.

[julykings]

defined by our togetherness, we could make up a Venn diagram in the shower steam, onomatopoeic joining with a slurp or vacuum seal sound as our tummies fuse and we breathe through the same mouth one out + one in to joint lungs. maybe then we'd have to stop smoking and let those gaps of our lip corners veil in vining plants. we do everything anyway. roll around in the afternoon like everyone should have the chance to, then fall asleep sweating. even September knows that lovers should sweat.

iloveyou iloveyou iloveyou tongues, necks, armpits, taste of the jelly bean deodorant, leg muscle, head pushing, spitting when we are called to. but also when we wander our bod(y)(ies) through the grocery store, tamed and showered, our domestic deciding between apple varieties is some cosmic thing, cleaning out the fridge expansive, reality tv shared between our welded eyeballs a gift of the universe aligning right, us overlapping, even on this little couch.