#absolutely merciless on both sides

[theetherealbloom]

The Things I Would Do, Just To Be Here With You

Summary: Amidst the whirlwind of movie premieres and busy schedules, you and Pedro Pascal, both thriving in your respective careers, find ways to celebrate each other despite the distance. While Pedro promotes Gladiator 2 in London, he longs for your presence at the after-party.

Or, you two would scream at the stars for keeping you apart... and the government too.

“Pedro Pascal x f!reader, Pedro is promoting Gladiator 2, and reader is in Wicked (Elphaba or Galinda of course!) for the screenplay of Wicked, and they are just really supportive of each other but also joke about their own movie being the best. Finding time to come to each other’s premiers. Posting behind the scenes or visiting each other.” — From @imaginemixedfandom

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Established Relationship, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Red Carpet, Cameras, Paparazzi, Long Distance, Timezone Difference, Social Media, Interviews, I’m not a Spanish speaker, I might be wrong with the terms, please don’t come after me T^T,

Word Count: 4.4k

A/N: Ty @imaginemixedfandom for giving the idea! I didn’t really want to replace the reader with the cast of Ariana Grande and Cynthia Erivo. Those two are just too iconic. So instead I will make the reader a writer for the screenplay adaptation of Wicked tehe. You all should listen to brent iii by Jeremy Zucker and Chelsea Cutler, it’s absolutely one of my favorite albums of this year. Lastly, remember this is all fictional and for fun! Enjoyyyy my loves!

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: and the government too! By Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

gif by @andrew-garfielld

| Main Masterlist |

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING

“Hi.” Your voice was soft as you nestled deeper into the duvet, your body cocooned in its comforting folds.

“Hola, mi amor.” Pedro’s face lit up on your phone screen, the warm timbre of his voice washing over you like a balm. “I miss you.” “I miss you too… so much,” you replied with a little pout. The time difference between London and New York was merciless. Between his packed schedule promoting Gladiator 2 and prepping for Fantastic Four, and your whirlwind of work with the Wicked movie premiere, your conversations had been reduced to stolen moments like this. Still, even through a screen, Pedro had a way of making you feel like the most important person in the world. “You look cozy,” he said with a lopsided grin, his brown eyes crinkling at the corners. “Meanwhile, I’m freezing my ass off here on set. I think my nose might fall off.” You laughed softly, the sound tinged with longing. “I’d trade you, you know. I’ll take the cold if it means I get to see you.”

“Don’t tempt me.” He leaned closer to the camera, his face filling your screen. “If I weren’t contractually obligated to be here, I’d hop on the next flight and show up at your premiere tomorrow. Red carpet and all.” You smiled wistfully, your fingers brushing against the edge of your phone as if you could reach through it to touch him. “You’d outshine me. Imagine the headlines: ‘Pedro Pascal steals the show at Wicked premiere.’” “Please. Everyone’s going to be talking about you. ‘Brilliant screenwriter dazzles Hollywood!’” He paused, his tone softening. “You’re incredible, you know that?” Your throat tightened at his words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. “Stop, or I’ll actually cry, and my face will be all puffy for tomorrow.” He chuckled. “Okay, okay. But seriously, mi amor, I’m so proud of you. You’ve worked so hard for this.” “And so have you,” you countered. “The Gladiator 2 trailer broke the internet, and you still found time to send me flowers last week. You’re amazing, Pedro.” “Yeah, but flowers aren’t the same as being there with you.” His voice dipped, a hint of regret slipping through. “I hate being this far away.” You sighed, your heart aching in tandem with his. “Me too.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence filled with the unspoken tension of your shared longing. Then, Pedro’s grin returned, bright and mischievous. “So,” he said, leaning back in his chair, “who do you think has the better movie? Be honest.”

You raised an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Are you seriously asking me to compare Wicked to Gladiator 2? One’s a heartfelt, magical adaptation, and the other is a testosterone-filled epic. They’re different.”

“Uh-huh,” he teased, crossing his arms. “Sounds like you’re dodging the question. I knew you were scared to admit Gladiator 2 is better.”

You scoffed, sitting up straighter in bed. “Scared? Please. I just don’t want to hurt your feelings when Wicked inevitably becomes a global phenomenon.”

Pedro laughed, the sound rich and contagious. “You’re lucky I love you. Otherwise, this would be grounds for war.”

“Lucky? You’re the lucky one,” you shot back, smirking. “I’ll prove it when I finally see you in person again. But until then…”

You brought the phone closer, pressing a soft kiss to the screen. Pedro mimicked your gesture, his lips brushing his camera lens.

“Goodnight, mi vida,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Pedro.” Your voice was tender, laced with all the love you couldn’t put into words.

As the call ended, you clutched the phone to your chest, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips. Despite the distance, despite the chaos of your lives, you knew one thing for certain: Pedro Pascal would always be worth the wait.

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — MORNING

Today was the day. You were walking the red carpet for the Wicked movie premiere. A sea of celebrities, producers, fellow writers, and editors would surround you. The sheer magnitude of it all left you feeling both giddy and utterly petrified.  

You smoothed your hands over the silk robe you wore, your palms damp with nerves. While you loved the craft of storytelling, the spotlight had always felt daunting. You preferred to let your work speak for itself—a tendency that paired surprisingly well with dating Pedro Pascal, the literal human embodiment of charisma and charm.  

“There, all done,” Laura, your makeup artist, said with a satisfied grin.  

You blinked at your reflection in the mirror. Your skin glowed, your eyes were accentuated just enough to look striking without overwhelming, and your lips were painted a perfect shade of confidence.  

“You’ve outdone yourself,” you said, giving her a warm smile.  

“Of course I did,” Laura replied with a wink. “Big night for my favorite screenwriter.”  

Mia, your stylist, emerged from behind a rack of gowns, holding up the dress. “Speaking of big nights... Ready to put this beauty on?”  

You nodded, though your smile wavered. “I just wish Pedro were here,” you admitted, your voice quieter now.  

Laura and Mia exchanged sympathetic glances before Laura gently squeezed your shoulder. “You’re going to look incredible, and he’d lose his mind if he saw you. How about we take some pictures to send him? A little preview for the man himself.”  

You hesitated, glancing at your phone on the vanity. “I don’t want to distract him. He’s busy with interviews and set work. London and New York aren’t exactly next door…”  

“All is fair in love and war,” Laura teased, her giggle breaking the tension. “Come on, babe! If anything, it’ll be motivation for him to hop on the next flight.”  

Mia chimed in, smirking. “Or just to remind him what he’s missing. Trust me, teasing Pedro is a public service.”  

You laughed despite yourself, feeling the nerves lift slightly. “Fine, fine. But if he complains, I’m blaming you two.”  

They ushered you into the dress—a masterpiece of emerald silk and intricate detailing that clung perfectly in all the right places. As Mia zipped you up, Laura stepped back, her hands pressed dramatically over her heart.  

“Pedro’s going to lose his shit.”  

“You look like a literal goddess,” Mia added, spinning you toward the mirror.  

For a moment, you hardly recognized yourself. The reflection staring back radiated elegance and confidence, even if you didn’t entirely feel it yet.  

“Okay, okay. Take the pictures,” you relented, biting your lip as you tried to contain your grin.  

Laura grabbed your phone and started snapping. You struck a few playful poses, twirling and laughing as Mia adjusted the hem of your dress. It felt silly, but imagining Pedro’s reaction warmed your chest.  

Once the photos were taken, you grabbed your phone and hovered over the message screen. You debated for a moment, then attached the best photo and typed a quick message.  

You: Wish you were here. But since you’re not... Enjoy this. Don’t let it distract you too much, cariño.  

You hit send before you could second-guess yourself, the familiar swoosh of the message sending making your heart race.  

The reply came faster than you expected.  

Pedro: Distract me? How am I supposed to do anything now? You look like an angel. No, better than an angel. Drop-dead stunning. 

You couldn’t stop the grin from taking over your face.  

Pedro: Red carpet better be ready. They’ve got no idea who they’re dealing with tonight.  

The butterflies in your stomach multiplied tenfold. Before you could reply, another message appeared.  

Pedro: I’m so proud of you. Go knock ’em dead, mi amor. I love you.  

Your throat tightened, and you had to blink back the sudden tears threatening to ruin Laura’s hard work. You tapped out a quick reply.  

You: I love you too. Now go back to being the coolest man alive.  

“You okay over there?” Mia asked, watching you with a knowing smile.  

“More than okay,” you said softly, tucking your phone away.  

As you prepared to step into the whirlwind of the premiere, Pedro’s words echoed in your mind. Even from thousands of miles away, he made you feel invincible.  

Tonight wasn’t just about the red carpet or the glitz and glamour. It was about celebrating what you loved—and knowing Pedro would always be your biggest cheerleader, no matter where in the world he was.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON — AFTERNOON  

Pedro sighed deeply, his head resting against the back of his chair. The steady hum of activity on set felt like background noise, the voices and clatter muffled by the ache in his chest. His fingers drummed lightly against his thigh, the motion absent-minded, a physical echo of the restlessness he felt inside.  

He missed you.  

It wasn’t the casual longing of someone who hadn’t seen their partner in a while—it was the kind of yearning that settled into his bones, heavy and persistent. A few hundred miles of ocean separated you, but it may as well have been an entire galaxy.  

He opened his phone and scrolled back to the picture you’d sent him that morning. The emerald dress, the way it hugged your form, the way your eyes sparkled even in a still image—it took his breath away. You looked like a dream. His dream.  

“If I were there right now…” he murmured under his breath, running his thumb over the screen as if he could touch you.  

If it were as simple as hopping on a flight, he’d already be on his way. He imagined the way you’d light up when you saw him, how you’d rush into his arms. He’d bury his face in your hair, inhale your scent, and hold you so tightly that he’d forget about the world outside.  

But it wasn’t that simple. The timing was off, as it so often was with both your careers in full swing. He was tied to the production schedule of Fantastic Four, and you were in the spotlight for Wicked. The universe seemed determined to keep you apart, and for the first time in years, Pedro felt the cracks in his patience.  

He closed his eyes, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward. “Damn stars. Damn schedules. Damn… government,” he muttered bitterly. The laugh that followed was humorless, the frustration thick in his voice.  

If he could, he’d scream at the stars for conspiring against you both. Curse the invisible forces that made life so complicated. He’d barter with time itself, twist it and stretch it, just to have you here with him for a few stolen moments.  

He wondered what you were doing right now. Were you nervous about the red carpet? Did you feel as hollow without him as he felt without you? Pedro clenched his jaw, guilt gnawing at him. You deserved to have him there, to walk that carpet with you, to hold your hand and beam with pride as you took in the applause for your work.  

“Pedro, they’re ready for you!”  

The call from a production assistant jolted him from his thoughts. He blinked, the weight of reality crashing back down as he stood and stretched.  

“Be right there,” he called back, tucking his phone into his pocket.  

As he made his way back to the soundstage, he couldn’t shake the thought of tomorrow. The Gladiator 2 premiere loomed ahead, another milestone he should be celebrating with you by his side. Instead, you’d be halfway across the world.  

But one day, he promised himself, one day, nothing will keep us apart.  

NEW YORK, NEW YORK — EVENING 

The flashing lights were relentless, casting an almost blinding glow over the red carpet. The screams of fans and the constant click of cameras created a symphony of chaos, one you weren’t entirely comfortable navigating. You’d always preferred the quiet—curled up with a book, tucked away from the world’s prying eyes.  

But tonight, you smiled and posed alongside your cast and the production crew. You owed it to them, to yourself, and to the story you’d helped bring to life.  

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Winnie Holzman, the original writer of Wicked, leaned in with a smile, her eyes sparkling as she looked at the crowd.  

You nodded, though your voice was tinged with nervousness. “It’s incredible. Overwhelming, but in the best way.”  

“You’ve done amazing work,” Dana Fox chimed in, her excitement infectious. “We wouldn’t be standing here without your screenplay tying it all together.”  

Jon M. Chu, ever the cheerleader, clapped you lightly on the back. “Tonight’s your night too. Own it.”  

You laughed softly, feeling a little more at ease with their encouragement. Together, the four of you posed for the cameras, sharing a few candid laughs before heading closer to the press area.  

As you stepped into the spotlight for interviews, the questions started flying.  

“How does it feel to see Wicked finally come to life on the big screen?”  

“It feels surreal,” you answered, your smile genuine. “Everyone on this project has poured so much heart into it. To see it come together like this is... overwhelming in the best way.”  

“You’re known for being quite private. How are you handling all the attention tonight?”  

“It’s definitely out of my comfort zone,” you admitted with a small laugh. “But I’m surrounded by such a talented and supportive team, which makes it easier.”  

Then, inevitably, came the question you’d been bracing for. “We couldn’t help but notice that Pedro Pascal isn’t here tonight. Do you miss him?”  

The question tugged at something deep inside you. “I miss him so much,” you said softly, your expression softening. “He’s busy promoting Gladiator 2 and filming in London. I know he wishes he could be here, just like I wish I could be there for him. We’re both incredibly proud of each other, though.” You grinned, a playful sparkle in your eyes. “But, of course, Wicked is better. Don’t tell him I said that.”  

The interviewer laughed, and you followed with a wink before stepping away.  

AFTER THE PREMIERE  

As the credits rolled and the crowd applauded, you walked alongside Jon, Winnie, and Dana toward the exit. The night air was cool and refreshing after the heat of the theater.  

“You were glowing on that carpet,” Winnie teased, nudging you gently.  

Jon smirked. “Bet it’s because of a certain someone who couldn’t make it.”  

You flushed immediately, your cheeks warming. “Stop,” you mumbled, though your smile betrayed your embarrassment.  

“Oh, come on,” Dana added with a laugh. “You were gushing about him earlier. Just admit it—you’re head over heels.”  

You sighed dramatically, though your heart raced just thinking about Pedro. “Okay, fine. I miss him like crazy. I just—” You paused, glancing up at the stars. “I wish I could be there for him, you know? For his premiere. He’s always so supportive of me. It feels wrong not to do the same.”  

Jon stopped walking, turning to face you with a thoughtful look. “So go.”  

“What?”  

“Go to him,” he said with a shrug. “Take the jet. I’ll make the call.”  

You blinked at him, stunned. “You—you’d let me do that?”  

“Of course,” Jon said, waving off your concern. “You’re part of the heart of this project. If being with him makes you happy, it’s worth it.”  

“But I don’t have a ticket, and I need to pack, and—”  

Dana held up a hand, already pulling out her phone. “Relax. I’ll call a car, and we’ll pack together. You just focus on getting there.”  

Before you could protest further, Jon had already stepped aside, dialing someone on his phone. Dana grabbed your arm and started steering you toward the waiting car.  

“You’re really doing this,” she said, grinning.  

“I—I guess I am.” Your voice trembled with excitement and nerves. “What if I don’t make it in time? What if—”  

Dana cut you off with a gentle squeeze on your shoulder. “You’ll make it. And even if you don’t, just being there will mean everything to him.”  

AT THE AIRPORT  

The private jet was waiting for you, its sleek frame illuminated by the glow of the runway lights. You quickly texted Pedro’s manager and assistant, letting them know you were on your way.  

You: I’m coming to London. Please don’t tell him. I want it to be a surprise.  

The response was almost immediate:  

Franklin Latt: Got it. He’s going to lose his mind—in the best way.  

As you settled into your seat and the jet began to taxi, your heart raced. Seven hours separated you from Pedro, but for the first time in days, the distance didn’t feel insurmountable.  

You leaned your head back against the seat, clutching your phone tightly as you closed your eyes. You could already picture the look on his face when he saw you.  

Just hold on, Pedro. I’m on my way.  

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING

The energy in Leicester Square was electric. Fans filled the barricades, the roar of excitement nearly drowning out the camera flashes as Pedro made his way down the red carpet. Dressed in a sharp black shirt, the top unbuttoned, slacks, his signature charm, and a warm smile lit up every interaction as he stopped to greet fans and pose for photos.

The press area was bustling, and soon Pedro found himself standing in front of a journalist holding a microphone.

“Pedro, congratulations on Gladiator 2! How does it feel to be here tonight celebrating this film?”

Pedro grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “It feels incredible. This is one of those projects you dream about as an actor, and to see it all come together, to see everyone’s hard work pay off, it’s… it’s a real honor.”

The interviewer nodded. “You’ve had an amazing year, between this and your other projects. But we couldn’t help but notice that someone special in your life had a big night recently—the Wicked premiere in New York. Did you get a chance to see any photos?”

Pedro’s face lit up instantly, a laugh bubbling out of him. “Oh, I did. Believe me, I did. She sent me some pictures, and I’ve seen the ones floating around online too. I mean… she looked absolutely stunning. Like, knock-you-out, breathtakingly gorgeous. I might be a little biased, but still.”

The crowd nearby caught wind of his gushing, and a few cheers erupted. Pedro laughed, scratching the back of his neck.

“Honestly, I’m so proud of her,” he continued, his voice softening. “She poured so much of herself into that screenplay, and to see her get the recognition she deserves? It’s the best feeling in the world.”

The interviewer smiled. “There’s definitely a lot of love and mutual admiration between you two. Word on the street is you’ve got a bit of a friendly competition going on—Gladiator 2 versus Wicked. Any truth to that?”

Pedro chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh, it’s absolutely true. We’ve got a bet going. She’s convinced Wicked is going to sweep the box office, and I, of course, have complete faith in Gladiator 2. Let’s just say the stakes are high—winner gets breakfast in bed for a week.”

The interviewer laughed along with him. “That’s adorable. Who’s winning so far?”

Pedro smirked. “Let’s just say she’s got me a little worried. But I’ll never admit that to her.”

LATER, BACKSTAGE

Pedro leaned against the wall, sipping from a glass of water while chatting with Paul Mescal. Their conversation flowed easily, but Pedro’s gaze kept drifting toward the entrance, as if hoping for some sort of miracle.

“You’ve got that look again,” Paul teased, nudging him with his elbow.

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning ignorance.

“The ‘I’m desperately in love and missing my girl’ look,” Paul quipped with a grin.

Denzel Washington, who had just joined the conversation, chuckled. “He’s not wrong, man. You’ve been staring off into space like a lovesick teenager.”

Joe Quinn walked by, overhearing the exchange and throwing in his two cents. “It’s cute, though. Very romantic. Someone should write a movie about it.”

Pedro rolled his eyes, though a bashful smile crept onto his face. “Okay, okay, I miss her. Can you blame me? She’s halfway across the world, and I can’t stop thinking about her.”

Frank, Pedro’s manager, stepped in, giving him a supportive pat on the back. “You’ve got it bad, buddy. But hey, it’s not a bad problem to have.”

Frank couldn’t help but smile to himself, already knowing what Pedro didn’t—that you were on your way. He could only imagine Pedro’s reaction when he saw you walk through those doors.

“Alright,” Pedro said with a dramatic sigh, “can we please focus on the fact that we’re here for Gladiator 2 and not my love life?”

“Sure,” Paul said, smirking. “But if she shows up, we’re all watching you lose it.”

Pedro laughed, shaking his head. “I’ll take that bet.”

Little did he know, he was about to owe a lot of people a round of drinks.

UNITED KINGDOM, LONDON, ODEON LUXE LEICESTER SQUARE — EVENING  

The crowd in the after-party buzzed with excitement, a mix of A-list chatter and glasses clinking. Pedro stood near Lux, their conversation about the night’s success lighthearted, though his gaze kept drifting toward the entrance. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, only that the ache of missing you hadn’t dulled, even amidst all the celebration.  

Lux, sharp-eyed as always, caught the slight shift in his expression and smirked. “You’ve got that look again,” she teased.  

“What look?” Pedro asked, feigning nonchalance as he sipped his drink.  

“The one that screams, ‘I wish she were here.’” Lux nudged his arm playfully.  

Before he could muster a witty retort, Lux’s eyes darted toward the entrance, widening in surprise. “Well, speak of the devil…”  

Pedro turned, following her gaze, and the breath left his lungs.  

There you were, stepping into the room, your black silk gown catching the dim lights perfectly. Your hair, slightly tousled from the rush, framed your face with an effortless beauty that made his heart stop. Heads turned as you walked in with Frank, but Pedro didn’t notice anyone else.  

He froze, jaw slack, his mind racing to comprehend that you were actually here.  

“Pedro,” Lux whispered, amused. “Close your mouth before you catch a fly.”  

But Pedro couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. All he could do was watch as you walked toward him, the soft smile on your lips turning into a grin as your eyes met his. He vaguely registered Joe, Paul, and Denzel laughing nearby, but he didn’t care. You were here.  

When you finally stopped in front of him, your grin widened, and you quipped, “Sorry, I’m late. Traffic was terrible—there’s a movie premiere happening, and I—”  

Before you could finish, Pedro moved.  

He swept you up in his arms, lifting you off your feet as a chorus of cheers, whistles, and laughter erupted around you. You let out a surprised giggle, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck as he held you close, burying his face against your shoulder.  

“Dios mío,” Pedro murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “You’re here.”  

“I’m here,” you whispered back, your fingers threading through his curls.  

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes brimming with love. “I can’t believe this. You’re really here.”  

You smiled, tears threatening to spill as you cupped his face. “I couldn’t let you have all the fun without me.”  

Pedro didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance, kissing you with a fervor that made the entire room fade away. The kiss was deep, all-consuming, and when you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless.  

Your laughter broke the moment, and Pedro pressed his forehead to yours, his hands still firmly around your waist as if afraid you might disappear. “Thank you,” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly.  

“For what?” you asked softly, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw.  

“For being here. For being you. For… everything.” His voice was low, reverent. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’ll never stop thanking the universe for it.”  

You kissed him again, a soft press of lips this time, and smiled against his mouth. “You don’t have to thank the universe. Just let me love you.”  

Pedro let out a soft laugh, his arms tightening around you. “You’re incredible, you know that?”  

“You’ve mentioned it once or twice,” you teased, resting your head against his chest as the room slowly came back into focus.  

From the sidelines, Joe nudged Paul, chuckling. “Think he’s gonna let her go anytime soon?”  

Paul smirked. “Not a chance.”  

Denzel clinked his glass against Joe’s. “Now that’s a man in love.”  

And Pedro? He didn’t care about the laughter, the cameras, or even the early morning call time tomorrow. For now, you were in his arms, and nothing else mattered.

[adispit]

Mates (Sweet Thing Pt.2)

Hare! Original character x bunny! Male reader

Warnings: hints of possessiveness, your owner getting his poor eyes destroyed, cream pie, a bit of an exhibitionism kink, pwp, dirty talk

Note: if you’re confused about the anatomy, in the eyes of humans they’re animals but to each other they’re like hybrids (human with animal features), just don’t think too much about it lol and enjoy the story

The sun didn’t let you slumber peacefully after the night of merciless fucking. You could hear the faint sounds of water flowing nearby as you awoke blearily, feeling a little disoriented. “Ow!”A sharp stab of pain shot through your lower half, the ache a reminder of the shameless acts you had committed. A rush of shame left your face burning as you recalled what you had said in your haze of pleasure. Looking down, you noticed your lower half was clean, had Mr Hare cleaned you up?

Before you could ponder more about it, a loud grumble from your stomach interrupted your thoughts. “Hungry?” A low, magnetic voice sounded beside your ear. “Oh, Mr Hare! I…” Your throat felt dry, what could you say?! The embarrassment was too much… Mr Hare must have known from the way you avoided his gaze but he chose to ignore it, offering you an apple. Looking sheepish, he continued, “Listen, sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t really myself and I must have scared you a lot… I’ve just been really pent up and you smelled absolutely amazing.” His ears were red. Oh. Cute. Even Mr Hare had an adorable side to him. “I don’t mean to really impose on you bunny but after all that, I mean I have to know your name at least,” He smiled apologetically.

“It’s (name)!” You offered a toothy grin in return. “Thank you so much for cleaning me up and giving me this apple, I’m so sorry for intruding upon your territory as well…but I don’t regret it though! You’re so nice and handsome too..I mean..”You blabbered out a thanks but it seemed you said too much, you didn’t mean to! He was really good-looking!! You really didn’t dare to look at his face now, wishing you would vanish from the face of this earth. “Well, (name), the pleasure is mine as your mate. I am glad you found me satisfactory.” The corner of his mouth lifted in a gentle chuckle.

Mates?! Yours eyes widened as you tried to grasp the revelation, your initial astonishment at what he said melting into sheer happiness. Forgetting about the ache in your lower half, you bounced next to him in a fit of excitement, “Really? You mean it? You mean it?” The questions rushed out as you couldn’t stop yourself from grinning uncontrollably. Looking at your delighted expression, Mr Hare muttered an agreement, his eyes crinkling. “Well, Mister Hare, since we’re mates now, I have to tell my owner!” Your tail puffed out in eagerly as you grabbed his hands and stared at him with stars in your eyes.

It didn’t take much convincing as it seemed Mr Hare was rather smitten with you and didn’t mind for the latter part, if your owner were to reject you both, he would just whisk you away anyways even if you didn’t want to. As you bounded in the direction of your home from the meadow with Mr Hare in tow, it seemed as if the odds were in your favour, you even remembered the way back! As you arrived at the familiar sight of your house, you could see the frantic and panicked look of your owner through the window, a sense of guilt weighed down on your heart for worrying him because of your greed. Glancing at your worried face, Mr Hare offered some words of comfort, “(Name), it’s alright, I’m sure your owner would understand.” He was right! You could do this! Leaping through the window, you landed at your owners’s feet with Mr Hare behind you.

“(Name)!? Wait, I’ll talk to you later, this rascal just came back after a day of disappearing!!” Your owner spoke in a rapid fire manner at the person in the phone before hanging up. Disappointment apparent in his displeased expression, he scooped you up. “(Name)! Where have you been? I’ve been worried to death and you just disappear on me?? Where did your shorts go? And- Wait. Did you bring a girl home.” Before your owner could finish giving you a rough talking to, he noticed Mr Hare on the ground, who was clearly disgruntled by the fact that your owner had just snatched you up. “(Name), god damn it! I didn’t spay you because you were the only bunny I had at home but you bring home some random female hare?!?” Clearly perturbed, your owner bemoaned at you.

It seemed your owner was too exasperated to even listen to you…he had even assumed Mr Hare was a female! Mr Hare shot you a look that expressed his irritation. Desperate to explain yourself, you jumped from your owner’s embrace beside Mr Hare and he immediately mounted you, showing his dominance. “God what if she’s pregnant- (Name), what are you doing?! Oh- l.”Left speechless, your owner immediately understood. “Okay, so you were the one who got pounded?? My bunny got mounted by some random hare??? I give up…this is the price I get for pampering you so much (name)…let’s at least get this guy checked to see if he has an owner…” Your owner was so exasperated with the situation that he finally threw up my hands and gave up, leaving to call the animal shelter.

As your owner conceded defeat, you knew despite his sharp words, he had accepted that Mr Hare was now part of your family. Excitement coursed through you at the thought of having Mr Hare around and it seemed like he shared the same idea as well! Just when you were about to rave about the future you had already imagined with Mr Hare and your owner together as one big family, he interrupted you. “Bunny, I don’t really like how your owner just grabbed you away like that…” He wore a scowl of displeasure, his grip on you tightening as if to ward off any potential threat. Mr Hare being all possessive over you just because your owner touched you should have put you off but it didn’t, instead you felt yourself hardening shamefully, your hole twitching.

He noticed, wearing a smug smirk on his face as if he clearly relishing his victory over the competition. “W-wait, Mr Hare… my owner is still here…” However, your words were the opposite of your actions as you teasingly rubbed your ass against his already rock hard dick. “Bunny…you’re really tempting me…” He grunted as he pulled you close, your thighs flush against his cock. A faint blush crept up your neck and cheeks as a low pitched squeak left you. The blunt head of his dick repeatedly rubbing against your rim of muscle, precum wetting your awaiting hole. Mr Hare cooed at you patronisingly before he thrusted into your heat, the immediate stretch and burn of his impossibly huge cock filling you.

Almost going slack from the penetration, your body trembled from the stimulation as the excitement from your owner catching you both made you shamelessly clench around his cock repeatedly. “You like your owner just behind the door, bunny? Catching me pumping my seed into his precious pet, huh?” Mr Hare snarled as his hands teased your chest, hands rolling your taut nipples. “Please.” You cried out, unsure of what you even wanted as your vision grew hazy. It felt impossibly good. “God. Your hole is so tight, my dick’s gonna break.” He laughed as his hips snapped against yours at a brutal speed. “Unh- ah!” You moaned, tongue now lolling out and eyes rolling back as the pleasure built up and left you reeling in its wake.

The sensation of his cock spearing you open again and again felt so good. The obscene squelch of your hole after every slap of his balls against your skin echoed in the room. It was too much. The tension in your body building up and snapping as you orgasmed. As wave after wave of pleasure crashed into you, your walls pulsed around Mr Hare’s cock rapidly, milking him of what he was worth. Your cock painted your tummy in white as you slurred incoherently, Mr Hare’s grip on you bruisingly tight as his pace stuttered. “Fuck.” Mr Hare moaned. It was not long before hot spurts of cum splashed your insides with his semen. Pulling out his soft cock, a vulgar squelch sounded, followed by his cum dripping out of your swollen hole.

Too exhausted to even feel ashamed about what you did, you lay against Mr Hare as the afterglow left you dazed. Gently cradling in his arms, he kissed your nape in satisfaction. Unfortunately, your sweet moment was interrupted by your owner coming in. “Alright, I’ve confirmed he doesn’t have an owner so we’ll just adopt him and get him vaccinated for some shots… (Name)?! Oh god.”

At least you were both now mates at least…but your owner’s eyes would need some time to recover…

note: I rly need to give this guy a name lol I can’t keep calling him Mr Hare in smut scenes 😭💀 I didn’t beta this so there might be some spelling errors

Reblogs are appreciated! 🙏

[valentine-cafe]

helloo! i hope you're having a good time, whatever timezone you're in. may i please order a strawberry shortcake??

(top!male!reader)

thinking about rishen and reader going home together after a party, both of them absolutely wasted, and them having really messy sex? (with hate fucking possibly?)

— 🫀 anon

˖⁺. “ fuck you harder !? ” : 

﹙ top rival male reader x bttm nerd rival ﹚.𖹭 ݁

. . . verse 781 rishen x male reader !! 🍓 : ﹙ hero ˖ spider-moth-mantis hybrid ˖ preppy nerd character ﹚

you've always had quite the rivarly with the pretty nerd of your uni. yet he has become quite bold at a party. teasing you, pressing up against you, making out with you at the bar. you just had to take him home. . . but then he just had to piss you off in the cab back home. 

﹙ cws ﹚: explicit content ˖ handjob ˖ rough sex ˖ penetrative sex ˖ thigh-fucking ˖ rough sex ˖ creampie ˖ degradation ˖ messy sex ˖ hate-fucking | wc : 1.8k 

﹙ receipts ﹚: I love you so so much for this ask because rishen is suuuchhh a brat and I finally get to write about it 

꒰  other treats : guidelines ˖ m.list ˖ characters ˖ our lore  ꒱

“Y’gonna make me bend - you over my - fucking sofa, brat?”

Your fingers coil tighter around his curls as you smack him over the arm of the grey sofa. Hands delving to his thigh high stocking and feeling his soft skin before you’re shoving a hand up his skirt and curling your fingers into his red panties. Yanking them down with a force that threatens to tear them.

“Mppff,” he hiccups into the throw cushion. Smart comments that he throws you through hallways and all through tonight nowhere to be seen for the moment. Not when you grab at his cock and give a few jerks that leave his eyes fluttering.

“Yeah?” You slur.

“F-. . . Fucking slow -”

Your hand reacts on cue. Slapping his ass and jerking him further over the arm as you squeeze your palm around his tip and hear him sob. Once again submitting to your rough movements. The harsh kisses that you lather over the side of his neck and the merciless pumps of his weeping dick.

The audacity of this nerd. From riling you up at every. Waking. Moment in uni. To even now - when you have a hand up his skirt and making him leak all over your sofa.

What a bratty mouth for a damn nerd indeed.

The hand in his hair circles round his neck. You give him a harsh squeeze beneath his jaw before stuffing your fingers past his lips. Adding a new taste to his tongue bitter from alcohol. You just can’t help but fuck his mouth decorated in glossy red lipstick with your fingers. Pressing on the back of his tongue as you aggressively hump against his plush ass.

“Al’ways have - smthing to fuckin’ say.”

You huff out. The alcohol staining your own tongue. Oh you wish it was stained with his leaking precum. You feel the way he’s dripping all over your hand and it takes all of your self restraint not to remove your palm and have a taste.

But there is no way in hell that you are giving him head after he’s had a smart mouth with you all night.

Flashes of the party flicker through your haughty eyes. Of the little slut pretending he couldn’t hear you. Ignoring you. Grinding up on you on the dance floor. Tongue kissing you at the bar when you have enough of his coy bullshit.

Don’t even get you started on the ride back home. The things he said to you. “Why’re you holding back? Not packin’ big boy?”

You’ll show him small.

The sound of the belt buckle takes over the sound of his whining, pathetic moans into the cushion. When did you get two fingers in him? You’re not sure. All you know is that you are fucking him knuckles-deep. Fast. Blinding. A rotate of your wrist every few seconds to press your fingers up into that one spot that has him crying and clawing at the fabric of the sofa pathetically.

“P-P-. . . Pleasepeasepl - angh - god pleeaaaseee -”

His hips are rocking back into your hand so needily. How can you not shove your pants down and stumble around in the process. Suck in a breath and blink a few times to rid the haze and colourful spots in your vision. His thighs will sober you right up - is what you tell yourself.

So you release his cock and hiss in his ear when he whines at you. “Be patient. Whore.” Another smack to his thigh for good measure. A tint to his bronze skin. You can’t wait to paint it with cum instead.

Air fills your lungs as you suck in another breath to keep yourself steady. Pump at your own cock and bite your lip at the throb of your tip. For a second you forget that you’re finger-fucking him. You so desperately wish to just push in and fuck him raw. But your pettiness, somehow, outweighs your neediness to feel his tight ass throbbing around your cock.

Instead you pull your fingers out completely. Spread his thighs out and spit on his fluttering rim when he tries to complain. Your nails dig into his soft flesh as a warning before you are slipping your dick between the small gap you created. A hitch of breath from the both of you when your tip drags over the underside of his balls.

There’s a beat of silence. Both of you relishing in the sensation that makes your tips pulse with the threat of precum.

Until your rough hands squish his thighs together. Hurriedly snap your hips against him. There’s a plap of skin. Leaking all over - but the only friction Rishen can taste is the drag of your dick against his occasionally as you fuck is thighs instead of him.

You can almost hear his offense in his whines. The way that he tries to buck his hips back into you. You see the small wet patch of his drool all over the cushion; and let out a bark of laughter. Your hand returns to hook around his hair. Yank his head up and smack your hips against him as though you are fucking him sore.

Oh he’s sore alright. Cock pulsing. Glistening with his need. The slick that catches on your tip and draws a few grunts from your lips and tightened jaw.

“Fucking whore. Not even in yet.”

But it’s torture to you too. You ache to fuck him full. Teach him a lesson. Make him cream himself all over your sheets until he won’t be able to even look at you the next time you cross paths in the uni hallway.

The room swirls. Colours mixing in a confusing haze. All you remember is the softness of the mattress. The plush of his body. The way he thrashed into the bed and sobbed so desperately into the sheets once you bullied your cock into his tight ass. Stretch him out as you hold him down with two firm hands on his thighs. Shoved down onto his tummy and helpless. Unable to do anything but take you.

Everything is spinning. The scent of alcohol and sex burns your nostrils. But nothing compares to the sweet cherry perfume that fills your senses when you reach down to latch your teeth onto his neck. Your dizzy head centers around the combination of the headboard banging into the wall and his helpless, slutty moans.

“P-Pl- nghh fuck - fuckfpleaas- h-hngah-!”

It’s a slew of English, Spanish and gibberish. One that draws grunts from your lips. The tequila from earlier pales in comparison to the intoxicating affect that his moans have you. Your hips respond in tandem. Rapidly smacking into his ass as you hold him against the sheets with a lazy strength.

For a moment you pull away from abusing his neck with your hickeys and bites. In favour of watching the way his poor little hole takes you - again, again - and again.

Suddenly you are drunk on the sight of ripples through his flesh. The obvious plap plap plap of his skin with every rough cram of your hips against his. And most importantly. . . how the big-mouthed nerd struggles to take you after all that smart talk.

“Is it still small?” The hiss seeps through your clenched teeth. Your fingers join the venom and clutch at his hips to hold him still as you slowly draw out. Groan at the sight of slick stringing to your tip from his fluttering hole.

A slew of pitiful moans is the only answer. The irritation and hurt pride from earlier swells through you and you twist his smaller body around. Snatch his jaw and shove his face into sheets as you ram back into his awaiting walls. All the way so that you can fuck hard and fast against that spot that his eyes rolling back.

“Is.”

slam.

“It.”

slam!

“Small?”

Another squirt of his cum that shoots to his abdomen. His needy sobs drown out as your hips jam into his. Slotting so perfectly while your other hand grips at his thigh and makes sure it is wide open for your rabid pounding.

“N-No - no -nonoo angh - i-it’s not - snotitssnooott fuuckk,” he manages to slur and hiccup into the sheets as you let lose on his poor ass. You don’t care how many times he’s splurted his messy cum all over. The drunken, mindless need to prove a point drives your stamina to the max as your hands roam all over.

If they aren’t in his hair. It’s down his sides. Yanking on his thighs so that he’s forced back down into your blinding thrusts. Oh you love the way his eyes cross at that. If not that then you are pinching at his pierced nipples. Or rubbing over the piercing on his dick that glistens with his numerous releases.

“Mhhm.”

The hum is low in your throat. Thumb slowly stroking along the silver bar that makes his poor dick squirt all over again. A perfect contrast to your pace that has refused to halt since you stumbled haphazardly into your dim bedroom.

“Tha’s what I though. Yeah. Take it all f’me.”

You bite down on your lip at the sight of him. Thighs hooked over your hips. Fingers coiled into the sheets above him. His lips parted and eyes rolled back

His hand moves to grab at your arm. Eyes rolling back into his skull, while another orgasm is ripped out of him. Like the feral animal you are, you eat it all up.

“F—Fu—ck-k!” He whines and shivers. tongue out and head rolling around to every thrust. And as you set your pace to an extra few notches up, you feel yourself growing a bit sloppy as his tight hole squeezes around you.

The both of you were made for one another. You didn’t doubt it one second with how he took you.

Slowly, the frantic slapping of skin against skin began losing it’s rhythm. Plapping out into the room and melting into the walls as your own, last, orgasm rushed to your abdomen. Cum staining the poor boy’s ass.

“S— ‘S that- hahh what you like?” You pant in his ear, groaning, while you collapse down upon him. Hips still grinding slowly into his needy hole.

“N-no-morreee— No puedo mááááááás.” The whine reaches your ears quick. He’s had enough. Why not give him a break and let him catch up. Until the both of you are ready to fuck again later?

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[judes-hoe]

Skims ~ JB5

Parrings ~ Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary ~ watching Jude doing the skims shoot…made you crazy you needed him and couldn’t wait!

Warnings ~ p in v(unprotected), creampie(2), a tad bit rough whoopsies, boob play, manhandled😵‍💫, jealousy, praise, teasing, slight pussy slapping, ab licking🤭.

A/N ~gave me a little ick but not enough to not write a fic😵‍💫

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When Jude told you he got invited to do a skims shoot, you immediately said you were going with him. He knew you were jealous, just a little, that other women would see him in his underwear.

The morning before you both left for the shoot. Wellll let’s just say you begged Jude to put a load in you…if you know you know.

Sitting in a chair watching the shoot. Jude walking out in only a pair of the grey pair of skim boxers. You could already feel yourself wetting your panties.

Once he got some pictures with the grey boxers, you snuck into his changing room. Waiting for him knowing he’s still got to do the white pair.

Jude walks in to change and is a little scared when he saw you. “Baby what you doing in here.” He asked but is caught off when you walk up to him and kiss his neck and palm him through the underwear. “Need you Jude, please, you look so big in these.” You said desperate. “Baby i already gave you some this morning.” He whispered trying to make sure nobody hears. “Need more, hate when other people see you like this, it’s mine!” You spoke getting a little possessive.

You kneel in front of him and lick his “sweaty” abs, a part of him you were absolutely obsessed with. You run you hands over his chest and abs, kissing all over them.

Before you knew it your pants were pulled to you knees and panties to the side. Jude’s skims off and he’s alined with your entrance. “Such a needy girl.” He hummed in your ear as you leaned against the wall with him behind you. “Need it.” You whimper. “I’ll give you it…just be quite can’t let everyone know how good I make you feel.” He said teasing your entrance, rubbing his cock back and forth slapping it in your clit before pushing in.

You cover your mouth and let out a moan into it. “Need me to fuck the jealousy and possessiveness out of you?” He said slowly pickup up his speed. You nod you head as your eyes roll back a little. He feels so deep inside you.

“Gonna cum inside you, want my cum to leak down your thigh, want everyone to know I’m yours?” He teased you with a smirk. “Please Jude.” You moan softly as your hands are on the wall desperate to grip on something. He pulls out of your and turns you around picking you up, legs immediately going around his waist as he slips back in and uses the wall to help support you.

He fuck up into you now, your hands scratching his shoulder and upper back. “Such a good girl.” He smirks as he starts kissing your neck. Hands slipping under your shirt to squeeze your boobs. “J-Jude!” You moan into his shoulder to muffle it. “Gonna cum for me baby?” He whispered in your ear. “Y-yes!” You cry clutching onto him.

He stops his thrust and goes to the couch sitting down and immediately thrusting up into you at a merciless pace. “C-cumming Jude.” You moan into his neck. “Cum for me I’m right behind you.” He said trying his best to keep his speed up.

You cums round his cock and soon after feel his final thrust up into you. Shoot his load into you filling you up as you pleased. “All my baby need was to be refilled huh?” He teased as he sat there. “Want people to see my cum drop out of you…so they know I’m yours?” He asked kissing your neck softly. “Mhm.” You mumble into his neck, fucked out.

“Last part of the shoot baby…then I’m all yours.” He said as he pulls on the white pair of skims. He had helped you get dressed again also. You walk out a little after him, his cum soaking your panties.

At least this time it’s real sweat and not fake for the shoot….

[chrollogy]

18+ MDNI; smut, porn without plot, unprotected sex, creampie, shameless oikawa brainrot, pathetic & subby(?) oikawa, he has praise kink, overstimulation (m), multiple orgasms (2), cowgirl, erotic asphyxiation (m), pet names (baby, my love). divider: cafekitsune.

notes: this is for my dear friend lexi @hanafubuxi :3 eheheheheheh pay back for that tsumu ask you sent <3

── you didn’t know how to describe the view before you . . heavenly? ethereal? lewd? hm. the list could go on, and on but there was one thing you were sure of—oikawa was as pretty as the first flowers of spring whenever he wore those infamous specs, especially with the apples of his cheeks painted the same hue as a japanese camellia.

erotic sounds of loud skin slapping, and dulcet whines filled the shared bedroom; the scent of passionate intimacy lingered in the heavy atmosphere, kissing your naked bodies in the form of sweat.

beneath you was oikawa—your lover—all in his bare glory; umber strands splayed across the soft ivory pillow beneath his head, displaying a faux halo, as though he was a heavenly being sent from above, divine, and all things pure; his naked chest subtly gleamed with sweat, skin peppered in hues of dark red, and purple. oikawa looked like an absolute mess with tears threatening to spill from his eyes, and it drove you up the wall, clenching around his cock at the state he was in.

though, the cherry on top were the glasses he donned—all fogged up, and moist from the damp atmosphere of your shared bedroom. the frame crookedly sat atop oikawa’s pretty face, threatening to fall off with every merciless bounce of your hips. a glimpse of his eyes rolled back from ecstasy peeked beneath the translucent glass; god, he looked no better than a common whore from how good he was taking the sinful movements of your hips.

lightly circling your fingers around his neck, the bed frame creaked beneath your naked bodies, a light squeaking in unison with each eager bounce. with oikawa’s rosy lips parted, a series of colourful curses, and incoherent mewls slipped off his tongue, as your hips relentlessly moved up, and down, up, and down his hard cock.

fuck, just the feeling of your hand around his throat had him seeing stars.

slim, shaky fingers dug onto the feverish skin of your hips, a feeble attempt to slow your actions but you didn’t let up. instead, you took both of oikawa’s hands, and pinned them on either side of his face, interlacing your fingers with his own, and using them as leverage to angle your hips better.

the slight change in angle pulled a shaky whine from you, and oikawa, his head pressed further into the pillow beneath as the your warm cunt eagerly sucked his cock even deeper; kissing intimate parts of your velvety walls.

“f-fuck—! too much, baby, please. .”

oikawa whined, adam’s apple bobbing with every saccharine sound that slipped past his swollen lips; strands of umber that framed his handsome face were now stuck to his forehead. you let out a humourless laugh—one that had oikawa coiling in pleasure—and planted a chaste kiss on his sweaty forehead,

“but you’re doing so, so well for me, my love . .”

a shameless moan in the shape of your name rolled off his tongue, handsome face contorted in pure bliss as he unexpectedly came at the mere praise that fell from your lips; oikawa’s fingers tightened against your own, a way to ground himself from the dizzying pleasure. whispered curses filled your ears as ribbons of hot cum painted your walls white, pulling a low whine from you at the familiar sensation.

oikawa’s mouth hung open as he gasped for air, immense pleasure that engulfed the entirety of his body becoming too much as the pace of your hips remained indifferent, effectively overstimulating him.

you could feel him attempt to pry off the weight of your hands against his own but the pleasure that gnawed at his bones had made his body limp; so, all oikawa could do was lay there, and take it all—the sinful roll of your hips, the ecstatic feeling that ate away at his sanity, and the feeling of your wet cunt hugging his cock.

it wasn’t long before oikawa reached another orgasm, this time, with you. curling over your body at the intense feeling, you babbled sweet, drunken praises against oikawa’s ear, gently nibbling at his feverish skin. the man beneath you let out a silent moan, hot tears that pooled his umber eyes rolled down his rosy cheeks, wetting his long lashes.

heavy pants filled the room as you, and oikawa stayed still for a moment, the cost of chasing pleasure weighing down on your naked bodies; a low whine slipped past his lips, sensitive cock moving against your cunt as you shifted atop him. oikawa’s thumb caressed the back of your palm, sleep slowly overtaking his body with each passing second, the sound of both your heartbeats lulling him to dreamland.

god, you never fail to drive him absolutely insane.

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum !

[softpascalito]

I Healing Hands I Marcus Acacius I

Summary: Acacius returns home with an injury—and you try to care for him. But his ideas of healing (and baths) are a little ... different. Especially when you finally have some time to yourselves.

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x F!Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 2.3k Tags: Explicit, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Creampie, Handjobs, Nipple Play, Dirty Talk, Bathing/Washing, Blood & Injury, Secret Relationship, Mention of Period-Typical Violence, Mention of Period-Typical Slavery, Not historically accurate

AO3 LINK // Masterlist

notes: i can't believe i wrote smut about romans. anyway, i can't wait to see the trailer, enjoy the porn <3

domus - a type of house dulcissima - sweetest anaticula - little duck (affectionate) subligaculum - a type of underwear (i had three years of latin so i absolutely know what i'm doing)

The domus he lives in sits on the edge of Palatine hill, a small house that feels more welcoming to you than any palace could. The atrium is decorated with a variety of plants, the green colors peaking through the columns that line the sides of the open space. You’ve come to know the details of this place well, from the feel of the stones below your feet to the artistically created, coffered ceilings.

As you let your gaze wander over the sunlit atrium, you find yourself looking at the small statue that sits in the middle of a small fountain, both almost hidden by the plants around them. The water below reflects the merciless sun above and sends small reflections of light dancing across the open space. The form of Apollo stands still, frozen in a heroic movement with one arm raised and his head held high.

The god of music, of truth, and most importantly, of healing. You always think your presence in this house must please him, because since being here, you have felt more healing than you have known before.

You hear Acacius before you see him, his breath coming in a little shorter than you’d like. His footsteps sound through the atrium and you catch glimpses of him as he passes behind the columns on the other side. Even from a distance, the way he’s holding himself tells you he’s hurt, not to mention the dirt on him and his armor. The golden details usually shine in the sun—now they look almost ancient, covered in grime.

You sent a silent prayer to Apollo, your eyes briefly flying back to the statue. When you turn back towards Acacius, he has rounded the corner, making his way over to you, though much slower than he usually would. A small sigh leaves his lips as his eyes land on you and you can see his body deflate visibly.

“Acacius.”

You’re by his side in an instant, attempting to let him prop himself up on you, to use your body to support his. Instead, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your own arms around him, a hand finding his hair and attempting to brush through it—only to find it matted with blood. He must feel you tense next to him, a sharp breath escaping you as your fingers feel over his scalp, trying to locate the wound.

“Not mine,” he mumbles under his breath. He pauses for a short moment. “I promised I would come back.”

“You always do and yet I dread the day you will break that promise,” you say, a sad smile playing around your lips. You pull back enough to look at him, taking in the small cuts on his face and the deep lines between his brows that you want to smooth out until he looks as peaceful as he does in his sleep.

He does not protest when you try to take some of his weight on you, silently wishing you could take his worries too, and lead him away from the atrium and towards the small bath that is off to the side. You maneuver him through the small archway that is framed by beige columns on either side and into the middle of the room, the scent of the bath salts filling your nostrils as soon as you take a deep breath.

Acacius lifts his right arm—and immediately screws his face up in pain. You send a stern glance his way. “Let me do that.”

You nudge his arm to the side just enough to reach the leather strings that hold his armor together, slowly working your way through them until you can easily slide the dark leather off him, shaking your head weakly when you see how caked with blood and dirt it is. When you’ve placed the armor on one of the stone benches that line the wall, you move on to his braces and his shoes—and finally, the undercloth, taking it off just as carefully and leaving him in just his underwear.

And then, you suddenly see the reason he’s holding himself the way he is.

A nasty cut marks his right side, just below the ribs. You swallow hard, reaching out and tracing the dried blood around it with a motion that comes naturally. You feel Acacius shift under your fingers, bringing his own hands towards yours and wrapping them around it. They fit perfectly, his grip strong despite his injury.

Your gaze is drawn back to his face by the movement and he smiles weakly. “It looks much worse than it is, dulcissima.”

He’s not wrong. He’s definitely had worse injuries, including the time he barely made it to the atrium, instead collapsing into your arms just behind the entrance to the domus. But, quite frankly, it doesn’t mean you don’t worry.

“It stopped bleeding halfway here,” Acacius adds, correctly interpreting your silence.

“Why didn’t you clean yourself at the baths? They would’ve tended to your wound.” You search his face as you speak.

“I wanted to be with you.”

You sigh disapprovingly at his response, though you can’t deny you like to have him close too, especially when he’s injured. Which, with him, feels like it’s every other day.

He leans down to you, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, mumbling. “It really does not hurt all that much anymore.” His arm sneaks back around you, though his hand is now wandering much lower than it did before.

You bite your lip, trying to give him another stern look but you can feel the way you begin to falter as he smoothes circles into the fabric of your tunic. “Acacius, your servants—”

“They are busy,” he assures you, dragging his lips over your cheek and towards your earlobe. “Besides, if any of them attempted to talk, I’d have their heads.”

You listen into the silence that follows, almost determined to catch a pair of feet approaching or a voice in the distance. But the only sounds that reach your ears are those of the small fountain in the atrium and Acacius’s breath against your skin.

“We won’t be disturbed,” he hums and you sigh in defeat, reaching down to undo his subligaculum, the soft fabric falling away to reveal the trail of dark hair that leads down towards his cock. You’re only mildly surprised to find him already half-hard.

“Let me clean you first at least,” you mutter, leading him further into the room and towards the small bath embedded in the tiled floor. You sit him down at the edge of it, letting him dangle his legs into the warm water. You reach for a cloth, wet it slightly and get to work. You start with his arms, watching as the dirt and blood starts to come off, revealing the tanned skin underneath.

You hear Acacius sigh above you and you feel his eyes on you, the soft gaze he looks at you with so different from the one he carries on the battlefield. His hands begin wandering again, dipping below the thin fabric of your tunic and you are just reaching down to wet the cloth again when he manhandles you into him, placing you comfortably on his lap.

You tense for a split moment before he catches your lips in a kiss—and then you hear yourself sigh as the protest inside you makes space for a fire that’s rapidly building in your lower abdomen. You can smell him, his sweat mixed with a hint of blood, you can feel the dirt rubbing off on you but you don’t care. You just want him.

His voice is a growl. “Merda, get out of that thing already.”

You obey, crawling off him and slipping the tunic off your body, carelessly letting it fall to the dirty floor. You see Acacius’s eyes raking over your body, taking in every curve like he’s seeing you for the first time rather than the hundreth.

“You are as beautiful as the gods, my dulcissima,” he mumbles, pulling you back onto his lap, one hand securely placed on your back to keep you from falling into the water behind you.

He’s careful not to lean on his bad side as he sneaks his free hand between your bodies, dragging it down ever so slowly until he reaches your mound, his index finger drawing a few circles around your bundle of nerves before moving on, a smile spreading over his lips when he finds wetness waiting for him between your legs.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as he inserts a finger without warning, the size of them always taking you slightly by surprise. His moves are shallow, never quite pulling his finger out completely but always keeping you on that delicious edge. When he adds a second one and starts curling them, he has you whimpering almost immediately.

“Marcus, please—”

“I thought I was Acacius to you. Just to make sure you do not—how did you put it—slip up,” he mumbles, a smirk on his face. The groan you intend to sound annoyed comes out much more desperate than you would like.

“You know we have to be careful—” you try to start, but with his fingers inside you, your brain simply does not work the way it usually does.

“One of these days, I’ll make you my wife,” he mumbles into your ear, his voice so low you can barely hear it. Without taking his eyes off yours, his thumb finds the spot that, combined with his words, almost drives you over the edge. “And you’ll live with me and we can make as many babies as you want.”

It catches you off-guard, but not in an unpleasant way. It’s just a fantasy, one that may very well be unattainable, but you like to let your mind drift there regardless. Judging by the twitch his cock gives against your skin, you’re clearly not the only one who does.

At that thought, you manage to hold off a bit longer and reach for him in return, enjoying the way his breath catches in his throat when your hand wraps around his attention-starved cock. His gaze flies down, to your bodies already so intertwined, touching each other impatiently. And you know he craves it as much as you do—to be even closer, to feel the weight of him nestled inside of you.

“You are so dirty,” he whispers, withdrawing his hand and making you whine at the loss. He wipes at some of the dirt on your thigh, mixing it with your own juices.

“And you seem to rather enjoy that,” you mumble back, squeezing him slightly. An affirmative chuckles leaves his throat before he lifts you up and lowers you into the small bath in front of him, the warm water immediately soothing your body.

He follows a moment later, stepping into the blue mass. A few petals swirl around on the surface, stirred by your movements in the water as he pulls you close again, his body seemingly all around you as he wraps you in his arms. Then he lowers his head, trailing kisses over your collarbone and down your skin until he reaches your chest, grazing his teeth over your hardened nipple.

“Marcus—” you whine, impatiently pressing your body into his, attempting to get any friction, a task made even harder by the water around you. “I want you inside, please.”

“Always so polite, Anaticula,” he mumbles into your skin but he does satisfy himself with one more nip at your skin before pulling back. “Is that what you want?”

You nod impatiently and feel him lining himself up below you, gently directing you towards the far edge of the bath, where he immediately braces himself against the wall for support with you in his arms—and just a moment later, you can feel him sink into you.

Your bodies mold together, his cock making you feel so deliciously full and complete. You can hear him grunt as he begins to thrust into you gently, his hands on your hips as he guides you onto him again and again, making you moan into his neck as you cling on, half a mind not to touch his injury.

Acacius groans your name, his movements speeding up slightly. “Come on, I want to see your pretty face, dulcissima.” You pull back enough to see him and press your forehead against his. Your thumb comes up to wipe a spot of dirt off his face and brush over his beard, the hairs of it more gray than dark, like they were when you first met, and for a few moments, you both just stare at each other as the water around you ripples with your movements.

“Let go for me.” It's just a whisper—and one you don’t think you could ignore if you tried. You feel the wave wash over you, your vision going weak as you fall apart—knowing that Acacius will hold you close until you’re put together again. You barely notice that he follows suit, spilling himself inside of you with whispered promises of all the things you’ll have one day.

You stay intertwined in the water like that for a while. Eventually, you begin to gather some in your hand and let it run down Acacius’s scalp, beginning to wash the dried blood out of the gray-streaked hair.

“You are going to let me put a proper bandage on your cut once we get out,” you state, earning a loyal nod from him. His eyes are searching yours again, carrying the soft look you know is reserved for you.

“I did come back,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion and you suddenly feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes.

“I know.”

You kiss him softly and he kisses you back just as softly as you curl into him, inhaling his scent and pulling him close and ever closer, determined to let noone take you from him.

thank you for reading! feel free to follow my socials or leave a comment if you want more of slutty roman men <3

[marvolos]

Hold Me While You Wait

PAIRING: Cho Hyun Ju x gender neutral reader

SYNOPSIS: Cho Hyun-ju has known loss, but nothing compares to holding the lifeless body of the only person who ever truly believed in her. As they die in her arms, their final plea for comfort shatters her. Consumed by guilt over her choices in the deadly games, she is left alone in the silence of her grief, forced to confront the price of survival in a world that offers no mercy.

GENRE: angst

WARNINGS: blood, death, grief, guilt and self-blame

NOTES: i have literally been obsessed with hyunju since i finished watching s2 and the lack of fics made me want to attempt my own hand at writing (thank u to the people who requested this!!). please keep in mind that this is my absolute first time indulging into fanfic writing rather than relying on reading others' works so i would love some constructive criticism!! english is not my first language so i apologise if there are errors, this is not proof read.

Cho Hyun-ju was no stranger to the cruel intimacy of loss. It clung to her like a shadow, its touch cold and unrelenting. She had lost so many she had once dared to love, the echoes of their departures a constant ache in her chest. Friends, companions, confidants—each had slipped through her grasp the moment she chose to trust them, her vulnerability rewarded with betrayal as sharp and merciless as any blade. Yet, as she knelt there now, cradling the almost lifeless body of the only soul who had never faltered in their belief in her, she realized she had never truly understood pain. Not like this.

“Hyun-ju...” Their voice was weak, little more than a whisper. She leaned closer, her tears falling onto their face as she brushed a strand of hair from their blood-streaked forehead.

“I’m here,” she choked out, her voice cracking. “I’m here. You’re going to be okay. Just...stay with me.”

A faint smile tugged at their lips, so familiar yet so fragile it made her chest ache. “Liar,” they murmured, their words tinged with bittersweet amusement. “We both know...I’m not making it out of this.”

“Don’t say that!” Hyun-ju snapped, her hands pressing desperately against the wound in their chest. “You’re not leaving me. You promised! You said we’d survive this together!”

Their hand, slick with blood, reached up to cup her cheek. The gesture was weak, trembling, but the tenderness in their touch was unmistakable. “Hyun-ju,” they said, their gaze locking onto hers with a heartbreaking intensity. “Just...hold me.”

Her breath hitched. “No, I can stop the bleeding, I—”

“Please,” they interrupted, their voice so soft it broke her. “There’s no time. I don’t want to die alone... Just...let me feel safe. One last time.”

Hyun-ju’s vision blurred with tears, but she obeyed, gathering them closer against her chest. She buried her face in their hair, her sobs muffled as she clung to them like a lifeline. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her words trembling with the weight of her grief. “I’m here. I’ll stay with you. Always.”

“Thank you,” they murmured, their voice barely audible now. “You...made it all worth it. Even this.”

“No,” Hyun-ju cried, her tears falling faster. “Don’t talk like that. Don’t leave me. Please...”

But their breathing slowed, each ragged inhale weaker than the last. Their hand fell from her cheek, limp at their side.

“I love you,” they whispered, the words so faint she barely caught them. And then, silence.

Hyun-ju’s world shattered.

Her beloved’s blood soaked through her fingers, warm and sticky, as if it carried the remnants of the life now slipping away. Hyun-ju's arms tightened around them as if she could hold their spirit in place, refusing to let death take what was hers. But their chest no longer rose with breath, and their once-bright eyes had dulled, staring blankly at a sky that offered no solace.

Hyun-ju's mind screamed at her to do something—anything—but her body was paralyzed, shackled by despair. The memory of a promise whispered in the tender quiet of midnight played cruelly in her head: We’ll face this together. Forever. That word mocked her now, hanging heavy with unfulfilled dreams, as eternity dissolved into a fleeting, fragile moment that ended too soon.

This was her fault.

The realization hit like a tidal wave, threatening to drag her under. Every choice she had made, every desperate gamble to survive, had led to this. She had believed she was fighting for their future—for their chance to escape the grasp of the brutal games that reduced human lives to fodder for the amusement of the elite. But instead, her choices had forged the very blade that now severed their shared hopes and dreams.

Her thoughts spiraled back to the first moment she saw them, standing on the shoreline, now just the pieces of a faint memory. The sea had stretched endlessly behind them, a restless expanse of possibility. Their smile had been like sunlight breaking through storm clouds, offering her something she had almost forgotten—hope. For the first time in years, she had felt seen, understood, as if their very presence whispered, you belong.

In the games, that hope had been her anchor. They had stood by her through every blood-streaked challenge, every moment of terror when the line between life and death blurred. They had trusted her when no one else would, had defended her when she didn’t deserve it.

And now they were gone.

That fleeting sense of belonging had been torn from her, ripped apart by the blood-soaked machinery of the games. She wanted to blame them—the faceless architects of this hell—but deep down, she knew it was her own hand that had led them here. Stay for one more game, she had told herself, clinging to the illusion that they could endure just a little longer, that she could outwit the odds. And now...now, that decision had cost her everything.

The weight of her grief pressed down on her chest, suffocating. Her vision blurred with tears, but she didn’t bother to wipe them away. What did it matter now? The world was a cruel, hollow place, and mourning was all she had left.

Her hands shook as she pressed them to the wound in their chest, futilely trying to stem the flow of blood. But it was pointless. The games didn’t allow for miracles.

The loudspeaker crackled to life above her, the voice cutting through her despair like a blade.

“Contestant 024 eliminated. Remaining contestants, return to the starting line for the next round.”

Hyun-ju’s breath hitched. The next round. It never ended. The games didn’t stop for grief, didn’t pause for the dead. They demanded obedience, demanded survival at any cost.

But what was the point of surviving now?

Her gaze shifted to the others still standing at the edge of the arena, their faces pale, their eyes averted. They had seen what happened, knew it could just as easily have been them. The games had robbed them all of their humanity, turning them into hollow shells, desperate only to live another day. Sympathy was a luxury the games didn’t allow.

“What was the point?” she choked out, her voice raw and broken. The words fell into the stillness around her, unanswered, as if the universe itself had turned its back on her suffering.

She looked down at her beloved’s face, tracing every line and feature with trembling fingers. How often had those lips spoken words of reassurance, promises that they’d make it through together? How often had those eyes met hers with unwavering faith, even when the world seemed intent on breaking them both?

Now, they were gone. And she remained. A cruel joke, an empty punishment for sins she could never atone for.

Hyun-ju pressed her forehead to theirs, her tears mingling with the blood between them. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking with the weight of a thousand unspoken apologies. “I’m so, so sorry.”

But the silence that greeted her was deafening, a reminder that forgiveness would never come.

The night stretched on, oppressive and eternal, as she sat there in the crimson pool of her regret, mourning not just the love she had lost but the pieces of herself that had died with them.

hold me while you wait — © marvolos, 2025.

[transformers-synergize]

Do you have any more stuff for Sunny & Sides? Your designs for them are some of the best I've seen, and I'd love to know more about your plans or headcanons for them!

No pressure ofc, I support you and your absolute galaxy brain :D

Sure, here is a bunch of random stuff about in no particular order, lot of this stuff was just pulled from my notes but whatever lol 

Sunstreaker is egotistical, he knows he is the best and makes sure everyone knows it too. He also has the skills, looks, and combat prowess to back it up. Sunstreaker only really cares about himself and Sideswipe, considering pretty much every bots below him or not worth his time. He often makes sly comments, belittling or cracking jokes about bots whom he deems lesser. His friends are either Sideswipes friends who can tolerate him or bots who think he's cool, which is usually due to factors outside his personality. He's always down for a good fight, being ruthless and downright merciless in combat while still somehow managing to get as little dirt, energon, or other various combat filth on himself as possible, sometimes being nearly spotless after a battle aside from the energon coating his blade. Sunny likes to keep himself in good condition, making sure his paint is perfect and his polish shines, it really helps accentuate how he's the best.

Sideswipe is the nicer of the two brothers. He's outgoing and usually pretty friendly. Sideswipes is always looking for a fight. He loves the thrill of combat. He often treats serious situations more like a game than the high-danger situations he often places in. Sideswipe often can't sit still and always need something to do, and if there is nothing fun to do then he will make his own fun, he is often sparring with his fellow Autobots, trying risky stunts, pulling pranks on other bots and generally just causing chaos. He's very impulsive, often doing the first thing that comes to mind because he thought it might be fun, never considering the consequences. He's kinda like a jock who treats war like a sport with an almost ruthless approach to combat. He often tenses and banter with other autobots, sometimes making jokes at their expense, but unlike Sunny, he usually knows when to stop or when he's gone too far.

info dump bellow↓↓↓

Sideswipe and Sunstreaker both emerged during the Autobot Decepticon war and never known peace times. They are the youngest of the crashed Autobots, both being around a thousand years old, which is very young when your species can live to their hundred thousands.

Twins are what happens when a shuttle-sized spark splits into two, so before Sideswipe and Sunstreaker split, their emerging was highly anticipated because shuttles are rare and extremely powerful, but their spark ended up splitting. When they finally emerged, it was a great disappointment.

they were mentored by Inferno and, to a lesser extent, his conjux Redalert (they are one of the many reasons for Redalerts anxiety). Sideswipe has a pretty good relationship with his mentors Sunny… not so much 

Sunny hates Earth, it's filthy it's wet it's squishy it's sticky it's too hot, at least compared to Cybertron's frigid temperatures, and its dominant species are nothing but a pain he hates he has to hide his existence from the stupid inferior fleshy creatures that rule this dirtball of a planet he hates how often on missions he has to have a fleshy human chaperone to perform basic task that he could easily do himself or wouldn't be a problem if humans just didn't exist. Whichever bot or bots are on a mission with Sunny where human help is required, the other bot will always be the one transporting the human because Sunny refuses to let a human inside of him.

Sideswipe likes Earth, there so much to see it his first time being anywhere without the war consent looming present of the great war, but having to hide all the time on Earth is frustrating, he's been able to seek out and do some street races without Prowl knowing, he likes quite a lot of human stuff human music is pretty good and he like some human tv shows and movies mostly the ones with a lot of actions and explosion, he like interacting with the humans he's allowed to interact with especially Carly and Raoul, thought Sideswipe often struggles to understand how fragile humans are and often can put them at risk without even knowing it. Sideswipe is still a little homesick for Cybertron, even if he's only ever known it as a war-torn mess.

their poses often mirror each other

Sunny tells Sideswipe to smile with his mouth closed because his split beak. 

Sunny is the decision-maker of the two, and though Sideswipe may make destinations for himself on his own as a pair, Sunny always has the final say. 

Sunstreaker hates Sideswipe stickers but gave up on trying to remove them because whenever he tried, he got his claws sticky. 

Sunstreaker and Tracks have a bit of a rivalry going on, though Tracks hates Sunstreaker more than Sunstreaker dislikes Tracks. Also, Sunny usually comes out as the victor of most of their little spats.

Sideswipe pulls pranks but doesn't dare prank Sunstreaker because he knows there will be hell to pay if he messes up his brother's paint job. 

sideswipe loves to cause chaos, Sunny often help

Sunny has some artistic talent, though he doesn't use it much

Sunstreaker always makes sure his frame is clean and in near-perfect condition. Sideswipe doesn't care as much but Sunny, make sure Sideswipe keeps up to a certain standard.

Sideswipe is very extroverted, loves interacting with other bots, and will talk to basically anyone. Sunny is more introverted and prefers to keep to himself and select bots. Sunny tries to encourage his brother not to hang out with bots he considers not good enough to be associated with them which is most bots.

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

As for plans for them, I like keeping what I share plot-wise pretty vague. They appear pretty early on, and they both are pretty plot-important. I don't really care about spoiling characters who appear in the first seven chapters. After that, I'm a little more sneaky and vague about who will appear.

[eccentrcks]

I'm not afraid of you now I'm not afraid of you now villain and violent infant and innocent baby both arms cradle you now I'm not afraid of you now. - "Forwards Beckon Rebound" by Adrienne Lenker.

"Russell Adler, I've been expecting you." He hears her cold voice, thickened with disdain and perhaps resentment, which was ironic that he should be displaying such... dislike towards her instead of the way around for giving him so many emotional scars than his time in Vietnam had given him. "I see we bear similar scars now," Marlene, the little terror who's been a painful thorn to his side, simply sat in front of him on some wooden stool as she nodded at his neck.

Just the opposite sides, kid...

"I wasn't expecting a warm welcome, but..." He stated blankly and tried readjusting his restraints. "I would've expected to be somewhere more reclusive... instead of the same room you entrapped me."

"Don't worry, this isn't my safe house. It's just... temporary." Those empty brown eyes of hers bore into his cold blue ones. His sunglasses remained on the creaky wooden floor. "So, I just removed the tracker from your pocket what you intended to put into me and put it in some fishing shop into fish bait. That's gonna be an interesting trip for your little jarheads." She chuckled dryly and played with the sharp edges of the silver blade.

"You never intended to kill me." He broke the silence after a moment of Marlene staring at him. As if she was inspecting the insect caught in a harmless trap.

"Why should I? Getting rid of you doesn't really benefit me," She leaned forward with her knife, the point end flipping to downwards with the handle in her grip. "You're just an CIA officer with not much value for me. Just one of those... potential casualties. I'd rather just let your job do it for me. I learnt a lot from my mother and the organization that taken me in."

"Astraea."

Marlene just stared at him and an unsettling smile dipped onto her features. "Of course, did you know that mercy isn't always a good thing? Especially the one receiving it? That's the lesson I learnt as a child and relearnt it the year after we first met. So, sparing you wasn't an act of kindness. Otherwise, it would've been nothing more a waste of my time." She reached over to fix his hair and paused to grip the scalp. "It's something you should consider learning for yourself."

Adler almost wants to laugh at that and not out of genuineness. More like sarcastically. It made him think these people were creating a merciless killer more than some obedient soldier, he doesn't really want to know if her mother was worst or not.

Marlene Monroe obviously knows what she is doing, and of course, he'll immediately believe she grew up like an seasoned field operator. What kind of mother teaches their child to be a soldier and to withstand torture in a long capacity? And Adler once believed he could've controlled her like he did with Bell a year ago.

He would've been easily compromised like now.

She let go of his scalp and went back to fiddling with the knife in her hands. "My time with them... made me realized we're not so different each other, although there was one difference that stood out. I had more freedom... and then when they took me in by force, it wasn't long before I felt true isolation. You and my previous interrogators in the past made me feel like I had an opportunity to leave the black hole before, but with them..." Marlene slowly leaned in again. "It was like there was no hope for me at all. Just absolute no way out until they just put you to better use. Nothing can make you feel that way compared to their ways."

Adler stayed still and barely budged from her intense gaze. "So the next time we meet and we will... perhaps I can show you what hell is truly like. It's nothing compared to your little MKUltra methods and all. Then maybe... maybe we'll see that little facade of yours break. Soldiers like you break eventually. They always do." She nodded with a little hum and lightly tapped his chin with the end of her knife.

"What happened to going home?" He had to ask since the last time he'd seen her, she was determine to do Astraea's dirty work in exchange to going home. Yet she was still here, continuing to be the war criminal he's hunting down.

Marlene tapped the knife on her own chin and looked thoughtful before rolling her shoulders. "There's nothing for me to go back to. You'll know the feeling of being seen as an actual villain someday, Russell Adler. Trust me, there's no worser feeling than your loved ones seeing you as the bad guy and eventually becoming one." She stood up from her seat towards a silver briefcase to unlock it.

"Now, I have very important matters to attend to than to entertain you and your whack jobs. So... until then, Russell Adler." Marlene finished before putting on a respirator and some little canister inside released gas. "Nighty night." Those empty brown eyes intently stared straight at his face to watch the drug take effect on him.

Adler felt his vision blurring and breathing became heavier. Little dots that slowly turned bigger filled his vision and it wasn't long before he completely blacked out.

Until then...

-

a.n: Beautiful artwork goes to the lovely @sleepyconfusedpotato and on my god, I loved this piece so much! This is more of a concept on how Adler tries to reach and confront the rotting apple of his eye who gave him fresh scars as she explains how she was taught and etc while he was restrained. This wasn't proofread either, so I apologize for any bad grammar detected.

[dellalyra]

𝐉𝐮𝐣𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐞𝐧 - ᴋɪɴᴋʏ? ᴋɪɴᴋʏ.

 ᴘɪxɪᴇ - 𝘮𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬𝘴 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘫𝘫𝘬 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘥𝘶𝘭𝘨𝘦 𝘪𝘯?

𓆩♡𓆪 Gojo 𓆩♡𓆪

- Size

You just know this man loves how much bigger he is than you. His height - he towers over pretty much everyone anyway, but seeing you so tiny compared to him? Incredible. He’s so broad too, and muscled. He loves remembering the first time you saw him naked, a very pleasant shock reverberating through your body because he has muscle mass like that under all those baggy clothes? He makes sure to wear tight shirts around the house now. He loves how he dwarfs you in bed, when he’s hovering over you - pounding into your tiny little body and your form is completely engulfed by his. Your little hands? On his big, fat cock? Something he’ll never tire of.

- Marking

You are his. He’s cocky, he wants people to know. He wants everyone to know that those marks on your neck are his - he’s the one who sucks them into your soft skin at night when he’s balls deep inside you. He wants them to know.

- Begging

He loves to tease, and getting you to the point where you’re pleading so prettily for him to just fuck you? It’s music to his ears.

- Cunnilingus

He’s got a sweet tooth, and there’s nothing sweeter than his pretty princesses cunt. He will lay between your spread legs for hours, lapping at your fold like a starved man as he whispers how delicious you taste and telling you to just stop wriggling and let him enjoy his dessert.

- Teasing

As above, he’s the worst tease on the list. He loves dragging you into an classroom when you’re both at work in Jujutsu Tech and pressing breathy kisses into your neck and ghosting his fingers across your lacy panties only to smirk when he feels your heart quicken and then leave, continuing to let his hands linger a little too long, whisper a little too close to your ear until you’re on your knees begging him when you get home.

- Breeding

Again, he’s possessive. He likes the idea of you being the momma to his kids, but it’s not just about that for him- the best part of it for him is filling up with tight pussy and giving you everything he has. On an emotional level, it’s a level of trust and intimacy he craves. Knowing you’re so committed to loving him forever and never leaving him that you’d let him. It’s so special to him, having some of him inside you, inside your body. When you tell him it’s okay the first time, he teared up. He’s always been so above others, a figure to look up to - but kept at a distance out of fear and reverence, but here you are. Joined with him in the most intimate way and letting him leave an essence of himself to even further the closeness.

- Brat taming

He teases you so much he really should have expected you to bite back, and put up a fight. He loves to remind you who’s in charge however. Sassing him? Absolutely not. Getting pissy when he’s teasing you? He’ll just smirk at you and tell you to be a good girl for him.

𓆩♡𓆪 Geto 𓆩♡𓆪

- Corruption

Even before his defection, he definitely had always had a corruption kink - whether it be his pretty little untouched crush, or introducing his inexperienced girl to his other hobbies.

- BDSM

He’s a hard dom. Merciless. He’s got a whole selection of instruments to use on you, seeing you writhe beneath him while you’re all tied up in those pretty black ropes and at his fucking mercy is so beautiful to him he wishes he could paint it. The sharp gasps you let out as a paddle hits your plushy behind as you arch your back in the air subconsciously chasing for more comes a very close second.

- Somnophilia

A softer side of him mixes in with this one. You’re just so pretty, so perfect, so serene when you sleep - how can he not want to cherish and love you with all he has? But still, his girl needs her rest - and if he gets to use you for his own pleasure while worshipping you as you rest? Ideal.

- Mirror sex

He knows he’s hot - but you? You’re ethereal. He wants to show you, make you see why he wants you on his cock 24/7 - how could he not when you look like that when you cum? It’s only natural. He loves how you wriggle and tear your eyes away, cheeks flushed with shyness as the sight of such depravity and lust looks back at you - but still - looking at this 6ft Adonis of a man stuffing you full on his lap with his hand around your throat has you coming undone in seconds.

𓆩♡𓆪 Nanami 𓆩♡𓆪

- Orgasm control

Nanami likes control. He likes to be aware of everything around him, he likes having you under his thumb. The thought of having you under his spell so much that he can control when and how you feel pleasure, completely dictating and torturing you by making you wait, and stop, and ride him, then stop and then finally allowing you to gush all over his handsome face is a dream come true.

- Lingerie

Look at you - sitting all pretty. Like a gift in a satin bow. He likes seeing the effort or forethought that lingerie shows, and how it highlights all your assets. He’s never one to rip it off (ahem… the rest of them), he likes to painstakingly, carefully, gently unravel and unwrap the gift laid out before him.

- Face sitting

Enough said. He is the definition of ‘don’t hover, fucking sit.’ He wants you to sit your pretty cunt on his face so he can have you for his dessert.

- Stockings

He’s already a thigh man - mix in some lace top stockings under your skirt, edges peeking out when you cross your legs? You’re going to be the death of this man.

𓆩♡𓆪 Toji 𓆩♡𓆪

- Exhibitionism

He’s so fucking cocky - he wants everyone seeing how you fall apart on his fat dick. He gets off on the thought of getting caught, the adrenaline rush adding to his brutal pleasure as he doesn’t even try to muffle your cries while he fucks you against the back wall of the dive bar.

- Daddy kink

He thinks he fits the name perfectly, the dominant, sexy and slightly older guy - hearing it from your glossy lips when you beg for more is music to his cock.

- Marking

His. All his. He’s going to make sure everyone knows it too.

- Booty stuff

The taboo of it all, the idea of putting his fingers or his cock anywhere near your ‘other’ entrance is enough to have him hard in seconds - it’s ‘forbidden’ so of course it’s something Toji wants.

𓆩♡𓆪 Choso 𓆩♡𓆪

- Breeding

This sweet boy, he loves his family - and he loves his girl. Hang on… what if he… combined them? Having a family with you? You having his baby? You round and squishy and soft and swollen with his child? Oh dear lord he nearly weeps. The thought of you trusting and loving him so much, that you’d beg for him to cum inside you so much you leak for days has him plugging you with his cock to stop even a drop from leaking out.

- Praise

He didn’t totally know what he was doing when you fist got together - sure, he knew the gist of things - but he’s so desperate to make you feel as good as you make him feel, and hearing you verbally confirm or tell him how nice his tongue feels, or how well his cock fills you or how nice he tastes? It’s fuel to get even more high praise from his precious girl.

- Biting

It’s primal - marking, similar to the breeding kink he’s a boy who didn’t know much but allowed his primal instincts to take over and the first time he came when you both had to keep the volume down he bit your shoulder to stifle his groans and the mark he made, almost brutally, and the gasp you let out on your skin drove him to yet another round. The harshest thing this sweetheart will do.

- Thigh-fucking

When you were both figuring things out, as he discovered sex and sexuality, you usually guided him to where he was desperate to be buried - but the first time he guided his own cock it slid between your thighs and his hips stutters above you and he loaned at how your thighs felt around him - he couldn’t stop, he knows he wasn’t in your pretty pussy but why did this feel so good? He loves your thighs as is but Jesus not only are they beautiful but they’re also so soft he can’t stop himself as he paints your plushy thighs with cum, as you whisper encouragement into his ear.

- Blowjobs

When you explain that not only are you willing to put his… in your… mouth - you actively want to - this is shocking to him. Sure, he’s done the same for you before but you want to devote yourself to pleasuring him that way? He constantly checks in as you make out and then drop to your knees and the minute he feels your tongue on his solid length his mind goes blank. He can’t think, can’t focus, can’t hold back - he can only feel how incredibly wet and warm and he thinks he could easily spend his life right here. You’d blow his mind (pun intended).

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Fem Reader who possesses the Curse technique ability of the Mystic Eyes of Death Perception (This power comes from the Fate series)? Bonus, if she’s like sweet and gentle to everyone, but in battle, she’s cold, merciless, and swift? HCs with the JJK men, like Gojo, Itadori, Megumi, Sukuna?

Most characters think you can stand with them. The big dogs of the big dogs. As a student, they'd bet 100% that you'd go for Special Grade given the proper training. As an adult, you’re probably already one, if not a very strong first grade.

Sukuna has strong interest in your technique.

He sees someone with the ability to kill anything regardless of the power difference. He automatically wants to see it in action and the potential damage it can cause. If possible, he’d even like to claim the skill for himself (think of his interest in the Executioner’s sword).

Your technique causes you to be high on his list of most potential, second only to Megumi. The only thing that stops you from being first on his list is that you still need awareness on how to kill your target or get around their technique to be able to touch your target. If Sukuna touches someone, chances are he’s going to kill them anyway.

Either way, he wants to keep you alive for now if only to see if that sweet nature of yours (the one holding you back) will win out over the cold, calculated, barbarian he knows is inside you when you fight. It’s a form of entertainment while he’s under lock and key in Itadori’s body.

If things had been different, he might've been willing to keep you as a servant ALA Uraume.

Satoru thinks the world of you.

He has you right up there next to Yuuta and Geto in terms of skills and personal importance. He didn’t really expect after his birth, when the Jujutsu world spun and more powerful curses appeared, that it would also be accompanied by the revival of a technique once thought extinct.

Satoru likes to be paired with you to figure out how your powers work and to see you in action. A part of him would like to fight you and to test your skill out against infinity, but your curse technique has an added sure kill effect so that’s a bit out of the question.

You remind him a lot of himself. He definitely smiles when that good girl nature disappears and he can confirm for a fact, that you're crazy (affectionately).

Satoru likes to pick on you and constantly tries to rope you into his schemes and games, bringing you to his side when it comes to rewriting the jujutsu society. He likes to speak in terms of “our” “us” “we” when it comes to the two of you. Due to your potential to be a special grade, the fact that both your techniques revolve around your eyes, and the simple fact that you might be the only one who can grow to understand both the rush and excitement of power while being able to circumvent the loneliness that comes with it.

You’re also so genuinely kind to him, and he thinks that you earnestly care about him and want to be around him. You’re not the only one who is like this to him but it’s more special when it’s you.

Megumi is a bit annoyed by you, not because of anything you’ve done wrong, but mostly because that sweet nature of yours causes you to overly worry for him, like a mom, and vice versa.

Like Itadori, you’re a good person so he worries about you when it comes to interacting with others. He’s worried someone might take advantage of that gentleness of yours. However, he’s aware well enough that you can take care of yourself in a fight.

He isn’t really scared of your power. It reminds him of Nanami, after all. What he is scared of is your worry and fretting and scolding. Megumi absolutely refuses to tell you when someone or rather something gives him a hospital visit because of it, constantly reminding the others not to tell you when it happens for his own peace.

In battle, he relies on you much more than you rely on him, instantly feeling more relaxed and confident about hard missions when you’re there.

He gets embarrassed when you remind him that you rely on him, too, that the thing that helps you see is his planning and observation of the enemy, that’s better than your own.

Ironically and hypocritically, he finds you too self-sacrificing for your own good when you get out of control. At the end of the day, you’re more important than him.

Itadori thinks you’re scary since you first met under less-than-ideal conditions.

When you meet again at school, he’s shocked that it’s you. He straight up asks if you have a twin, a scarier really strong twin. He’s a bit more respectful when he figures out that you’re that scary twin.

You're easily one of his favorite people because of how nice you are. You're usually willing to go out with him when the others bail out. He often forgets how crazy you get otherwise.

Itadori really values your opinions when it comes to fighting and techniques. He confides in you often until he can rectify the fact he has to kill to survive, including humans. Itadori wonders how you compartmentalize everything, but between your sweet personality and the brutal one, but he’s too scared to learn your answer.

Despite this, Itadori still doesn't entirely understand your technique even when you explain it to him multiple times. He just knows it's kinda badass. You slice and things die, almost always.

(You're still working on figuring out how to explain it to him in a way he'd understand.)

[ponderingmoonlight]

Die With a Smile

Pairing: Suguru x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: Despite the dark part he has chosen, Suguru finds himself drawn back to you. In a rain-soaked encounter, both of you face the heartbreaking reality that love can't save him from the path of destruction he's committed to.

Inspired by "die with a smile" by Lady Gaga + Bruno Mars

Warnings: omg guys this is more depressing than I thought lmao. What do you think about a part 2 with a little bit of spice + happy end? If this fic does well I might think about something 👀🤍

It’s raining like crazy when Suguru Geto steps out of the temple, the downpour a perfect reflection his mood. His hair sticks to his forehead, cold water soaking into his robes and bones.

But he couldn’t care less. Cursed spirits linger at his side, their whispers low and evil. He stopped caring about that a long time ago. They’re his companions now, the only ones who understand the path he’s chosen.

Even though it wasn’t always like this.

Back when everything made sense, you were there. Bright, like a flame in the middle of a dark room. He’d never admit it aloud, but you were a constant for him, an anchor in a world full of chaos. You, with that smile of yours that seemed to soothe the sharp edges of his mind, the one that made the world a little less bleak.

But that was before. Before the fall. Before everything between you broke apart, before he made his choice.

Now, all that’s left is this: the rain, the cursed spirits, and the heavy weight of his decision.

Still, you haunt him. You haunt him every single day since he left.

He doesn’t go looking for you. Not really. But somehow, his path leads him to the edge of the city where you live. It’s been months since you last saw each other and he knows he shouldn’t be here. Yet, there’s something magnetic about the thought of you, something that pulls him back, even if it’s just to catch a glimpse from afar.

Suguru stands across the street from your apartment, hidden under the cover of a dark alley. The rain is merciless, making everything look blurry and distorted. but he knows this place so well that he’d find it blind. You used to invite him over sometimes.

Before he left. Before he walked away from everything.

It’s late, and your window is dark. You’re probably asleep, unaware that he’s even here, lingering like a creep just outside the edge of your world. He feels something stir in his chest, something he doesn’t want to name, and yet it’s undeniable.

He shouldn’t be here. Fuck, he shouldn’t even think of you. Suguru never second-guessed his decision, never wished himself back into this cursed school, into the arms of all those unaware people.

And you? You still turn his world upside down, make him ponder about what could have been if he didn’t left.

Enough of this madness. He’s about to turn away, to disappear into the night as he always does, but the soft click of your door opening freezes him in place.

His breath gets stuck in his throat when he sees you step outside, dressed in nothing but a loose sweater and pajama pants. You’re holding an umbrella, but the rain splatters against your feet, soaking your slippers. You don’t seem to care, though. Your eyes are scanning the dark street, as if searching for something or someone. And you look so absolutely breathtaking gorgeous that Suguru can’t help but take in your sight like an alcoholic.

It’s then that you see him.

Suguru’s heart skips a beat when your eyes lock onto his. He stays still, waiting for the anger or fear to appear in your expression.

But instead, all he sees is sadness. The weight of the months apart, of the choices he made, is written clearly on your face. He feels a lump form in his throat, and for a moment, he thinks about running, disappearing into the night like a phantom, just like he did all those months.

However, something keeps him rooted to the spot.

You take a cautious step forward, then another. Suguru watches as you cross the street, the rain drumming against your umbrella in a steady rhythm. When you finally reach him, standing just a few feet away, the silence between you is deafening.

For a long moment, neither of you speak. The only sound is the rain and the occasional hiss of cursed spirits that hover in the background, though you can’t see them. Suguru doesn’t try to stop them. They’re part of him now, as much as his own heartbeat.

And you.

“What are you doing here?”

Your voice is soft, barely audible over the rain, but it cuts through the silence like a knife.

Suguru exhales, his breath visible in the cold night air. He doesn’t have an answer for you, let alone a logical one. Or maybe he just doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“I don’t know,” he finally replies, his voice rougher than he intended.

“I shouldn’t be here.”

You lower the umbrella slightly, the rain splashing onto your shoulders.

“But you are.”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t. The guilt that he’s buried for so long claws its way to the surface, threatening to swallow him whole.

He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be anywhere near you. The life he’s chosen is one of darkness and destruction, and there’s no place for you in that. He made that more than clear when he left you that fateful day.

And yet…

“I thought I could forget,” Suguru admits, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“But I can’t.”

You don’t say anything, and he wonders if you’re waiting for him to explain. But what is there to say? That he left everything behind to chase after an ideal he no longer fully believes in when looking at you? That every day without you feels like a slow, suffocating death? He clenches his fists, nails biting into his palms as the rain keeps pouring.

You take another step closer, now just a breath away. He can feel your warmth despite the cold, the same warmth that used to hunt away the darkest parts of him. For a brief second, it feels like nothing has changed, like the world isn’t crumbling around him.

But that’s a lie and he knows it all too well.

“You chose this path, Suguru. You left” you breathe out, voice full of pain.

“I know.”

“And you hurt me.”

He flinches, the words hitting harder than any curse could. He did hurt you, more than he can ever admit, more than he’ll ever forgive himself for. You were the one good thing in his life, and he tore it apart with his own hands. But hearing it coming directly out of your mouth almost makes him lose his composure.

“I didn’t want to. But I couldn’t stay” he states quietly, his voice strained.

“Why?”

Your question hangs in the air and Suguru struggles to find the words. How can he explain the rage that consumed him, the burning desire to reshape the world in his own image? How can he tell you that the hatred he feels for humanity is stronger than any love he’s ever known? You wouldn’t understand. You couldn’t.

But you deserve the truth.

“Because the world is rotten,” he finally blurts out, his voice laced with bitterness.

“It’s full of people who don’t deserve to live, and I can’t stand by and let it continue.”

You stare at him, your eyes searching his face for something, anything, that will make this make sense. But there’s no logic in what he’s saying, no reason that can justify the path he’s taken, nothing that stops your heart from shattering into tiny little pieces all over again.

“So, you’re doing all of this… to save the world?” you question, disbelief coating your voice.

“No.”

He shakes his head vehemently.

“I’m doing it to destroy the world. The one that doesn’t deserve to exist.”

Your eyes widen, and for the first time, he sees fear in them while you take a step back. Fear of him. The realization cuts deep, sharper than any blade, and he hates himself for it. This is who he’s become: a monster. A monster that even you, the person who once loved him, can’t recognize anymore.

The rain seems to fall harder, as if the heavens themselves are weeping for what’s been lost between you. Suguru takes a step back as well, the distance between you widening like a rift he can never cross again.

“I should go,” he says, his voice low.

You don’t stop him. Even if it almost kills you inside, there is no reason to stop the man you love from walking away. All this time you imagined a future with him, the things ahead of you. Fuck, even a little family, a dog or a cat. And now? Your dreams wash away with the rain that pours, disappearing into the night without a single spark of hope that it’s left. You should let this man go.

But as he turns to leave, your voice breaks through the storm once more, soft and trembling.

“Suguru… if you walk away now, there’s no coming back.”

He knows that. He’s known that for a long time. There’s no redemption for someone like him, no salvation in the arms of the person he loves. He’s too far gone, too consumed by the darkness he’s embraced.

But for a fleeting second, he allows himself to imagine what it would be like to stay. To hold you close, to apologize for every wound he’s caused, to promise that he’ll change. He imagines the two of you together, somewhere far away from all this pain and destruction, living a life where the weight of his sins doesn’t hang over him like a curse.

And then he crushes that fantasy, burying it deep where it can never touch him again.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear.

Before you can respond, he’s gone, disappearing into the rain-soaked streets, swallowed by the night. The cursed spirits follow him, their sinister whispers the only company he has left.

As he walks, the words of an old song echo in his mind—a song you once played for him, one quiet evening when things were simpler. The lyrics come unbidden, haunting him with their bittersweet truth.

I'd wanna hold you just for a while and die with a smile

But tonight, there’s no smile. He’ll never be able to hold you again.

And the weight of his choice feels heavier than ever.

Tags:

@arehzhera @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @kenstarsworld

@hellkaiserinphoenix  @lauv4chuuya @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen

@magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut 

@mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0

@ynackerman9499 @keepghostly  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso @gojosrealwife 

@coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain 

@risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny

@ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp @localhehecat @alicerhr

@sugu-love @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world

@oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo @kentocalls @cheesemachine44

@ryva @kenjakusconcubine @baku2345 @komelrebi-san @deezy12299

@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[wreckingtickles]

Say the line, Bakugo!

The League of Villains wants Bakugo to renege heroism on video, but the stubborn trainee might need a little bit of persuasion... a whole lot of it, in fact.

Words: 2,924

This picture made me do it:

Tickle torture under the cut!

“FUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHCK!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAPPPP!!!”

Four hours. That’s how long he had been at it. Four goddamn hours that felt like forty.

The Energizer had two massagers pressed deep into Bakugo’s underarms, the furious vibrations rippling out to affect the entirety of the hairless, slick hollows. Some ten minutes prior, he’d said that he’d figured out a method that would drive Bakugo absolutely ballistic, and that promise had been kept, much to the captive’s chagrin. Somehow, that was indeed even worse than the claws, whose gentle skating had in turn been more agonizing than the Energizer’s own wiggling fingers. He claimed he’d realize the massagers would work wonders when he saw how sensitive the blond’s ribcage and armpits were to raspberries.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! EHEHEHNOOOOOOUUUUUUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

“Enough? We’ve got two more hours to go!” trilled the Energizer, who’d taken his sweet time testing Bakugo’s body head to toe. He increased the speed of the massagers, relishing in the rise in the pitch of the captive’s laughter he knew would come.

Unfortunately, Bakugo wasn’t able to hear him, and not due to the defeated sounds he was forced to produce or the toll the tickling was taking on his senses: three hours in, the Energizer had opted for sensory deprivation. The headphones secured to Bakugo’s ears played an edited recording of their first three hours together, forcing the trainee to listen to the embarrassing sound of his own increasing laughter interspersed with the Energizer’s merciless teasing. He wished he could see the moment the fight would leave Bakugo’s eyes, but it was even more satisfying to see ticklish tears stain the black blindfold and pool at both sides of the blond’s head. He had gotten to see his anger turn to suspicion and then horror when he realized what was going to happen to him, and again later when his body – but seemingly not its owner – realized he wouldn’t be able to outlast this.

The Energizer had debated gagging him as well, but hearing his threats and insults turn into obstinate grunting, then resentful cackling, and finally howling laughter was too delightful to pass up. Besides, letting Bakugo try to speak, threaten, bargain might be more effective at breaking his ego than depriving him of that outlet.

“How come you keep getting more and more ticklish? Mh, your skin is so smooth, which makes tickling you so easy, and your Quirk… oh, is it because of your sweat? If I had known, I wouldn’t have bothered with the oil. You should have told me, silly! Someone really needs punishment tickles.”

He turned the two massagers to the max, ripping another screech from the spent prisoner. The only reason Bakugo was still able to thrash and laugh his explosive head off was the Energizer’s Quirk, an incense-like smell he could secrete to replenish the inhaler’s stamina – which had the apparent side effect of keeping him at peak sensitivity as well.

How had Bakugo found himself sweating bullets on that low, Y-shaped contraption, his hands still encased in those Quirk-suppressing manacles and secured to the top portion of the horizontal surface so his upperbody would be completely vulnerable, his black tee having been pulled up to his elbows, his legs spread and his toes pried back and individually tied to the ankle restraints, his bare feet currently wrapped in two plastic bags to keep them warm and ever more sensitive?

The League of Villains had planned to release a new video, one in which Bakugo himself would mouth Shigaraki’s talking points about the unfairness of the hero system and how violence was turned into a spectacle dressed up in morality - the prisoner hadn’t really paid much attention, preferring to thrash in place even though he was going nowhere.

His stubbornness was sure to prove a tremendous obstacle, but the League had already accounted for it by hiring the Energizer, an infamous torturer who couldn’t have been much older than Bakugo himself going by his voice, though his high-collared lab coat and round shades obscured most of his face. The League had been ready to offer him hundreds of thousands of yen; when he was told who he’d be working over, the Energizer agreed to do it for free. Pro bono. He kept tabs on the heroes in training that could one day be his targets, and there was something he’d wanted to try on this specific trainee since the Sports Festival. He wouldn’t leave a single mark and he’d be done before the six hours were up. He only had two conditions, the first of which was that he wanted to be alone with the captive.

He’d started at Bakugo’s stomach, claiming that it was a favorite spot of his. His gentle scribbling had caused Bakugo to freak out, out of rage rather than ticklishness, and to his credit, not even the combination of oil, claws, and an electric toothbrush in his bellybutton had fully succeeded in breaking him, though the addition of the occasional raspberry had pushed him to the brink.

His sides had been acquainted with the Energizer’s fingers as well as the dreadful massagers, both the scalp and the electric sort. Those same tools had been used on Bakugo’s waist and hips, but thankfully his pants prevented easy access to his thighs, and his knees didn’t happen to be very sensitive. However, the torturer had no compunction about removing the trainee’s shoes and socks, and he’d made a point of telling Bakugo that he’d been curious about that area’s sensitivity ever since his rude refusal to accommodate his classmates during the cavalry battle by removing his footwear.

Bakugo hated himself for how hard he’d laughed then, with toothbrushes – sonic and electric – flossers, paintbrushes, pieces of string, and the massagers were used on his toes, while combs, claws, forks, hairbrushes and, worst of all, grooming gloves had ravaged his oiled soles.

The moment he’d felt the Energizer leave his feet alone for a moment and take a stab at his ribs, he’d begged, not even for the torment to stop, just for a break. A reasonable request, the Energizer had agreed, before digging into his ribcage full-force. Fingers, soft scrub brushes, backscratchers, claws, raspberries, all used to superb effect on the trainee’s most ticklish spot – at least at that time, because at that moment, his pits were proving about as rewarding, for the Energizer, and excruciating, for Bakugo.

The torturer had teased him and remarked on his ticklishness throughout, no matter what he was doing, both for his own entertainment and so that Bakugo would be forced to listen to him again once the headphones came on. The fact that the broken hero couldn’t hear him didn’t deter him.

“Hey, if you don’t want me to use these two massagers of mine on your ribs, you can just say so. Tell me now.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAGHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHASSOHOOOOOHOHOLE-- HAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA!!”

“I’m not hearing a no. Does that mean I can? Are you sure? Because you reeeeeeally look like you’re at your limit. Well, two hours ago you did. For real, it’s your last chance!”

“GHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! STAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!!! YOU FUUUUUUHAHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAAHA!!!! PLEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! PLEEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHASEEEEEEHEHEHEHEHEHE!!!”

“Please? Alright, if you insist!”

Before Bakugo could even realize the massagers – still on their highest setting – had left his thoroughly exploited pits, he felt them press into the very top of his ribcage.

He screeched and his body spasmed as if the Energizer had electrocuted him. Maybe he would have preferred it.

“…………………………EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!!! GGGHAHAHAHAHAH HAAHHAHAHAA GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!”

Bakugo needed to say something. He couldn’t remember what, if his would even allow him to string two coherent sounds together. He was scrambling for a magic word that would make it all end.

“Tsk tsk, I told you you couldn’t take it! Why didn’t you stop me? And it’s so much worse when you can’t see or hear! That stubbornness of yours will land you in trouble one of these days, I tell you.”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAAHAHAHAHHA!!!!! …………………..GGGGGHAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAA!!! NEEEHEHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAAAAAA!!”

“Oh, is it too much right here at the top? Maybe it tickles less at the bottom, let’s see.”

“FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! SSSSSOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAAHAHHAHAHAAAAA!!!”

“Nope, I don’t think it does. Tell you what, I’ll just do both.”

“HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHHAAHHAHAHAAHA!!!!! HAHAHA!!! HAHAHAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHA AHAHAHAHAH HAHAHAHAAHAHAHHAAHAHHAHAAHA!!! IIII CAAAAAAAAAANNN’T!!! IHIH CAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!!”

“I can though, so you will.”

He kept Bakugo in that hysterical limbo for a few more minutes, until he noticed that one of the massagers was losing power. Some part of Bakugo must have noticed too, because his lungs were pumping out mirth only at 100% capacity.

“Oh, you think the worst is over? Not when I can do this!” said the Energizer as he drilled his knuckles into either side of the trainee’s ribcage.

Bakugo all but wailed, having believed for just the slightest second that his torment would get ever so slightly more bearable, before being plunged back into the deepest depths of despair.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHA!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAA!!”

“If you want me to stop, you only have to tell me.”

“GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!!! STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAAAAAPPPP!!!”

“Oh wow, you’re a lucky one, aren’t you? Well, you would be if I was actually going to stop, which I’m not. How about my knuckles and a massager?”

So he buried his knuckles into the right side of Bakugo’s ribcage while pressing the vibrating head into his lowest set of ribs.

Bakugo coughed, wheezed, let out a choked cry, his whole body shook, and he screeched again at the top of his lungs.

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKKK!!! EEHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! NONONOPLEASEPLEASEPLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAHHAHA!!!”

“Oh, I think we have a winner!” trilled the Energizer, repeating the deadly combo, and again, and again, switching sides, making sure not a single spot of Bakugo’s extremely sensitive ribcage went unmolested, his Quirk – Caffeine – preventing the blond’s senses from failing even for a moment.

Bakugo coughed, wheezed, and his laughter went silent. The Energizer didn’t stop. He fell perfectly still, his blindfolded face frozen in the most perfect expression of ticklish agony, but the Energizer didn’t stop. And his howling laughter exploded out of his chest once more as the Energizer pressed the massager into his top ribs.

He only relented when that massager’s battery began to flash red as well. “Oh snap. Well, that’s what powerbanks are for,” he mused out loud as he recharged both massagers. That was probably for the best, Bakugo’s voice had become unpleasantly hoarse by the end of it, so he left him to recuperate a bit. He checked the timer. About an hour and a half left. So he had thirty minutes before the grand finale.

He removed the headphones from Bakugo’s head. The blond reflexively jerked to the side to avoid his touch, and the Energizer smiled. He had him. He also took off the blindfold, watching Bakugo’s eyes flutter uncertainly under the harsh spotlight that kept the rest of the warehouse shrouded in darkness.

“F- umph, fuhuck…”

“Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?” teased the Energizer.

Bakugo thought better.

“Hey, you’ve made it!” exclaimed the Energizer, clapping a hand on Bakugo’s knee. “That was six hours. I assume you’ll say what the League wants you to say?”

Bakugo gave him the best glare he could muster. “Fuck… you.”

The Energizer smiled. “Shucks. I shot my best shot, I guess there’s nothing to be done…” he proclaimed theatrically as he turned his back on Bakugo.

He could almost feel the surge of relief and pride that filled Bakugo’s chest, pride that would eventually sour once he remembered that he’d nearly given in to a villain’s demands due to being tickled, but at that moment he could picture the exact smirk, the gloating curses forming at the back of his throat…

“Just one more thing,” he said as he pivoted and showed Bakugo his timer. - 01:32:02.

“NO!” shouted Bakugo, the exact grin that the Energizer had imagined dying on his lips. “No—Fuck! You can’t…! Fuck, fuck!”

“Look where that loud mouth of yours landed you, again.”

“FUCK YOU! DON’T COME ANY CLOSER!!”

“You look so stupid now. And ticklish.”

“DON’T TOUCH ME!!!”

“That I cannot do, but I can promise to leave your pits and oh-so-sensitive ribs alone,” cooed the Energizer, making his way toward the bottom of the contraption.

Bakugo immediately realized what was about to happen and tried to kick, thrash, twist, do anything to get away from the Energizer’s torturous touches. Oh, taking off the blindfold and headphones was so worth it.

He slowly tore off the plastic bag around Bakugo’s left foot, and watched as the blond jerked his leg as if he’d been scorched. Then, he did the same to the second bag, this time even slower.

“Mmh, I wonder what I should do next…” he teased, his fingers reaching for the bare sole.

“Fuck you, I’ll never say it, you guys can choOOOOOHOHOHOOHHOHHOOO!!! NAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHA!!!!” guffawed Bakugo as his tormentor slipped a finger between each of the toes of the blond’s left foot, the digits effortlessly sliding into place thanks to Bakugo’s Quirk.

“Listen to the little hardass,” taunted the Energizer without even moving his fingers, letting the micro-twitches of Bakugo’s toes do all the work for him.

“STOOOOOHOHP, FUHUHUHUCKIHING STOOOOOHOHHOHP!!!” pleaded Bakugo.

“I’m not even doing anything, look,” observed the Energizer as the fingers of his left hand subjected Bakugo’s remaining toes to the same treatment.

“HAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAHA!!! SHITSHITSHIHIHIHIITT!!!! QUHUHUHUIT IHIHIT PLEHEHEHEHEHEAAAAAAHAHAHAHSEE!!”

“I’m literally not doing anything, just resting my fingers! Damn, and I thought your feet were ticklish before. Your toes aren’t even the most sensitive part, I hope you remember that.”

“LEHEHAVE MY FEEHHET AAAHALONE YOOU FREHEHAK!!!”

“What’s the magic word?” asked the Energizer, moving his fingers almost imperceptibly…. unless you’re Bakugo of course.

“PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHAHAHAHAHSEEEE!!! STAHAHAHAHAHHAPPP!!! I CAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHN’T!”

Entertaining though the spectacle was, the Energizer withdrew his hands… and reached for an object Bakugo couldn’t see.

“Wrong. The magic word is ‘abracadabra,’” he said before vigorously scrubbing the detailing brush on the bare sole.

Bakugo arched his back and screamed. “FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUHAHAHHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!”

“There it is!” chuckled the Energizer. “The ball is the most ticklish part, right? Right around here,” he narrated as the brushed honed in on that spot, inching agonizingly closer with each pass, until it hit it, and Bakugo screeched again.

“Am I good at my job or what?” gloated the Energizer, though Bakugo was obviously in no condition to answer.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAAH!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHOHOHOHO MOOOOOOOHOHOHOOOOOO!!!”

“Wouldn’t it be awful if I also had a comb to use on the base of your toes?”

“GHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH!!! STAHHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAPPPP FAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!! PLEEHEEHEHEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHAHAHAHAH!!!”

“Oh, wouldn’t you know!”

“GGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!! HAHAHAHAHAH AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH AHAHHAHAHAHAHA HAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!!”

“This is some real anime shit,” commented the Energizer as the brush devastated most of Bakugo’s sole while the comb in his other hand did all the precision work.

The closest thing Bakugo got to a reprieve in the following 30 minutes were the momentary switches between one foot and the other.

“OOOOOOOOHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAH!!! OHOHOK!!! OKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOKOOKAAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!”

The Executioner checked the timer. Minus one hour, give or take. Just in time.

For the first time that night, he actually stopped in tandem with (though not as a consequence of) his target’s plea. He moved the comb and brush less than an inch away from Bakugo’s foot, just as a reminder.

“So?” he asked, impatiently waiting for Bakugo to speak between heaving breaths.

“I… I will… say… it…”

“Will you really? How do I know you’re not saying it just to make me stop?”

“N-! No I’ll, I’ll sahay the thing…”

“And what will you say after you’re released? That the mean villains tick-tick-tickled you so so hard that you just had to say those awful things? Is the big stwong hewo so weak that a widdle bit of tickwing will take him down?”

It was a testament to his skill that Bakugo was too thoroughly broken to take umbrage at the baby talk. Even his voice had embraced defeat. “I’ll say… I’ll do anything, just… stop.”

From the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, Bakugo could tell even through the mist of ticklish tears that the Energizer was smiling.

“I’ll let you in on a secret,” he murmured. “I know you will. But I have… a little over an hour with you still, and we don’t want that ugly temper of yours to flare again, do we? So I’ll use every single second of our remaining time together to make sure that stubborn little brain remembers exactly how bad things will get if you don’t give the performance of a lifetime.”

Oh, the abject terror in Bakugo’s eyes. “NO!!! YOU-- YOU CAN’T!!!”

“Watch me. Oh, Oooooohmuuuuuu!” he called, and the trainee when from confusion to dismay when he saw the monstrous figures shamble out of the dark. Was he going to be torn limb from limb?

“Don’t worry, they aren’t going to hurt you. See, Ohmus are rally dumb, they only understand simple commands,” explained the Energizer as he removed the two massagers from their chargers and turned them on. “Like… stick these things into his pits and don’t move, like I did before.”

He handed the two vibrating menaces to the massive horror near Bakugo’s arms.

“Wait no no more please I’ll do anything pleeHEHEHEHEHHEHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHHAAH!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHA!!!”

“You, remember the thing I did with the knuckles? This right here? Yeah, do that. You, with the many hands? Ok, curl and uncurl your fingers like this. Do that on his belly, his sides, and the bottom of his ribs – here. That’s exactly it! You, take that hairbrush, you wanna scrub that right here, see how red it is already? There you go. Can I get someone to floss his toes-- great. And, well, I’m already holding this brush and this comb, so…”

[bcmbiquinn]

https://www.tumblr.com/bcmbiquinn/774846876722855936?source=share

A tickle fic? Pls 🥺

𝜗𝜚 ࣪˖ hey anon, sorry for taking so long but here it is, hope you enjoy it, even if it’s small

Content warning: Just too adorable, proceed with caution. ♡

The dim glow of the living room lamp casts soft shadows on the walls, the only source of light as you curl up on the couch with Joe, tangled in each other like you were made to fit like this. The movie on the screen is long forgotten, replaced by slow, lingering kisses that have stolen both of your attention. His lips moved slowly against yours, his hand resting on your waist, fingertips drawing lazy circles against your skin.

Joe sighs against your lips, a sound that makes your chest feel warm and light. He tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss. Everything about him feels gentle, his touch, the warmth of his breath, the way he holds you like he has all the time in the world.

Your fingers slid under the hem of his shirt. But the second your hand brushed against a particular spot near his ribs, he let out the tiniest giggle. A real, genuine, boyish giggle. You pulled back, blinking at him in surprise.

“Wait a second…” a slow grin stretched across your face as realisation dawned.

Joe's eyes widened. “No, don’t even think about it”

But it was too late. Your fingers darted back to his side, experimentally wiggling against his skin, he jolted, a surprised laugh escaping before he clamped his lips shut, shaking his head wildly.

“Babe, babe, no…” he gasps between fits of helpless laughter, squirming and trying to catch your hands. But it’s too late and you’re merciless.

That encouraged you. You climbed over him, straddling his lap as you launched your full attack, tickling his sides, his stomach, anywhere you could reach.

“Oh, this is golden!” You teased, digging your finger into the soft spot near his ribs that seems to be his weak point. His laughter turns breathless, almost wheezy and his hands clamp around your wrist but he’s too busy giggling to fight back properly.

He squirmed beneath you, laughter spilling out in full, uncontrolled bursts. Then…

He snorted.

“You snorted!” You shriek, laughing so hard your own stomach aches.

Joe groans, hiding his face with both hands as you finally let up, still giggling as you fall beside him. His breath is heavy, his face flushed and he’s glaring at you, though the corner of his lips are twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

You continue laughing at him. “Joe snorts when he laughs!!” You teased.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he mutters.

”I can’t believe you snort when you laugh,” you shoot back, grinning.

“Right. Well, this has been fun,” he says dramatically, reaching for the couch pillow and tossing it at you. “I’m moving out. Leaving the country. Maybe the planet.”

You dodge the pillow easily, still giggling as you cuddle back into his side. “No, you’re not. You love me too much.”

Joseph huffs, but the way his arm wraps around you again says you’re absolutely right. After a beat, he grumbles, “You’re never gonna let this go, are you?”

You grin up at him. “Not a chance.”

He tried to glare at you, but the laughter still twitching at his lips betrayed him. And when you leaned down, pressing a teasing kiss to the tip of his nose before launching back into your tickle attack, he surrendered completely, lost in laughter, in you, in the warmth of this perfect, silly moment.

[holnnetd]

Catfisher!König Part 1

Warning: Suggestive content, mentions of pornography, misogyny, low-key incel behaviour, please be 18 or older if you read this!

Basically college loser!König cat fishing reader for some nudes.

In my defence, I was reading something about a cat shifter, but with my dyslexic ass brain I read catfish, and now it can't get out of my head.

This is the first part, explaining the context a little, to get into the juicy part go to part 3 (Nah I lied to you, part 3 has no smut, I changed my mind it will come in part 4)😊.

This is only fiction, please remember.

Teen!König is an absolute nerd, going to collage just because mommy said that would make her proud. She would only agree to let him join the army after he graduates, of course. Does it matter that he's an adult and doesn't have to listen to his mother's wishes? Absolutely not, he's a mamas boy. And if she wishes he goes to collage, he will.

But sadly for him, school is merciless. In military you have some kind of camaraderie, but collage? Hah, nom..

If you think people grow out of being assholes, you are only half right.

Do guys make fun of him because he's socially awkward? No, they do make fun of him for never getting laid though. It's not like he has a reason to be celibate, no religious background or not any other reason.

He just gets no cunt. Easy. Fucking virgin.

But he does have friends! Or that's what they call themselves!

Do they make demeaning comments about him and straight up just make fun of him in every way possible? Yeah, but that's how boys are. Right?

Not that it matters, he doesn't care about a group of boys bullying him. It's the girls in his classes.

Fuck, those are merciless. Or so he says. Of course a pretty girl with decent grades only gets it through sleeping, he says, fully believing his weird incel like comment.

And every time a conventionally attractive girl looks at him wrong, he's on and about how he doesn't need a lady in his life. He's better off on his own. Yeah König, go sleep with your mom when you're at it.

Tsk.

And there is you. Yes, long introduction, I know. I had to build up the climax (haha)

A gorgeous, overly feminine, hot, confident woman. Ugh, he gets hard when you walk by and he gets a whiff of that smell.

And his bestest of asshole fuckboy friends, seem to take a notice in his little crush, not that he would say it out loud, but he looks like he jacked off to you at least thrice this week.

"Eh, you like?" That one loudest guy ask, jabbing his elbow into Königs side as their gases follows your ass.

König grunts out a noise, probably confirmation.

"Fucking sucks you're ugly." He snickers and that ass kissing fucker behind him laughs too, trying to get closer to that guy's fucking asshole. Tsk.

König rolls his eyes, giving him a dismissive side eye. "Don't you have a girlfriend to fuck, Rody? I'm sure she has been complaining about your bed performance to her friends lately." He scoffs back.

Rody chuckles and shakes his head. "Don't matter. She doesn't know what's fucking good for her." He hums and that boot licker agrees, making some degenerate comment.

Both König and Rody shoot him an annoyed look. No one stands this guy but he refuses to leave their side. A thorn dressed as a leaf, really.

"But if you're that desperate to get something from her, just text her from a fake account. I assure you she won't answer the profile you're stalking her with." He huffs and König scoffs in annoyance. "Why are you so invested in my account activity, Bruder?"

But later that night, in a desperate attempt to get off he started browsing for some good old porn, hoping to get his sickly horny mind off of your body, but not one of those overly erotic videos seems to be getting him off.

Browsing through the categories didn't do shit to him. Solo female? Too old, too old, too plastic, too small toy, too loud and this one doesn't look of age, nope. Absolutely not.

That's not it.

But staring at those he did get an idea, getting crafty after his super friendly asshole friend inspired him.

..., Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

[chrollogy]

MY TURN

— hisoka morow x f!reader

syn: Hisoka turns into a complete mess all because of a strap on.

18+ MDNI; explicit smut, pegging/use of strap on, anal (m), bottom!hisoka, top!reader, porn without plot, just pure filth im so sorry, hisoka gets his shit rocked, pet name (baby), not beta read.

word count: 1.5k

notes: divider: cafekitsune. im running away . a quick lil smut warm up :3 i actually enjoyed writing this heh (oki see u on november !)

Hot. Damp. Filthy.

Hisoka’s pornographic moans filled the thick atmosphere of the room—they had no restraint whatsoever, ribbons, and ribbons of colourful curses tied with your name slipped past his wet lips; both coherent, and incoherent, each lust-filled noise came out of him with every merciless thrust of your hips. Face down, ass up. That’s the position you currently had Hisoka on, with his back unnaturally arched to take the strap even deeper.

How pathetic. A big strong man capable of killing anyone seemed to lose it at a mere silicone cock.

With Hisoka’s head turned to the side—he figured it’d be such a waste to muffle his melodic moans—he stared straight at you from over his shoulder; light amber gaze coated in pure carnal desire.

It held a hint of amusement deep beneath the brightness of its colour as if to tease you even though he’s the one getting railed into oblivion with a faux cock.

You clicked your tongue.

Even with that expression on his face—brows tightly knitted together, lips unceremoniously parted, and a glob of saliva rolling from the corner of his mouth paired with a deep crimson blush—Hisoka still managed to rouse a sense of superiority with just his eyes.

You gripped his hips, nails digging into the bareness of his pale skin before driving the strap-on cock deeper into his hole. “Mhm—aah! Yeah, that’s it—ngh!” The ivory sheets beneath his sweaty palms crumpled under his touch, eyes rolling to the back of his head as the tip of the faux cock kissed Hisoka’s sweet spot.

An icy shudder kissed up his arched back, leaving trails of goosebumps on his bare skin. Hot tears lined his pretty eyes, you watched as it rolled down his face, and onto the silk pillowcase beneath.

God, the sight before you was absolutely immaculate, downright filthy yet oddly enough, there was something so beautiful about it—the way Hisoka’s expansive back muscles flexed with pure pleasure, veins that decorated his arms bulged from the tightness of his grip on the sheets.

Not to mention how his muscular body jolted back, and forth from each merciless thrust of your hips. Bright red hair that was normally slicked back now fell onto his neck, damp, and stuck to his sweaty skin.

Hisoka looked like an absolute whore beneath you, and you lived for the sight.

If he was being honest, he couldn’t think properly anymore; his mind was nothing but a lust-filled mush, hungry for more, more, more pleasure until it pushed him into the brink of complete insanity. Pure ecstasy engulfed his body from head to toe, causing him to shake from the mind blowing sensation.

Oh, what an amazing feeling it was, if only he could live in this state forever. Sounds of wet squelches mixed with Hisoka’s shameless whimpers, and moans were like music to your ears—a sinful melody reserved for you only.

With your palms flat against his shoulder blades, you shifted your weight to your hands, using his back as a leverage to angle your hips better, and reach deeper inside him. Hisoka panted in unison with every thrust, the weight of your body on top allowed him to enter a blissful haze from the lack of oxygen in his lungs—almost like a drunken state but paired with lust.

His toes curled at the foreign sensation, relishing in the way it made his body feel limp yet stiff at the same time. The familiar feeling deep inside his stomach was slowly rising to the surface—he was near his orgasm, and you knew from the way Hisoka moaned your name like a broken record.

Ah, but you weren’t quite finished with him just yet.

“Turn around for me, will you?” You panted, hastily slipping out of his hole which earned a pathetic whimper from the man before you.

Nonetheless, Hisoka obliged, and swiftly so—as though mere seconds away from pleasure was going to cost him his whole life. He adjusted himself, bare back flushed against the sheets beneath, uncomfortably sticking onto his sweat-covered skin. A bright hue of red surrounded Hisoka’s head like a sinful halo, his hair was splayed onto the pillow which made him look all the more majestic in his raw beauty.

His hard cock slapped against his abdomen, it stood proudly, and leaked of a pearlescent pre-cum which you were tempted to get your tongue on, and relish at the taste of him. You wrapped your fingers around the back of Hisoka’s knees, bending his long legs, and bringing them to his chest before slipping the faux cock back inside his hole, earning a high pitched whimper from your lover, followed by a muttered curse.

Without letting him adjust, you returned to the swift pace you had set mere moments ago, pulling louder moans, and groans from Hisoka. At this point he was long gone, drunk on pure pleasure without an ounce of sobriety left inside him, letting you do as you please with his body as long as the feeling of ecstasy was what he received—a win, win situation.

Light amber eyes slowly dipped beneath his heavy eyelids, his stare held nothing but empty lust. As odd as it was, Hisoka’s fucked out expression allowed pride to bloom across your chest, a feeling of accomplisment that you, too, were able to reduce your lover into nothing but a common whore who eagerly chased after pleasure.

After all, it was always the other way around—Hisoka never shied away from taking you in many sinful positions, rendering you cockdrunk, and unable to form a single coherent thought.

You bent over him, palms placed on either side of his head, a smug smile painted on your sweaty face, “My, my, what a scandalous sight. God, I love that expression you’re making.” You moaned—a fake one to tease him. That was usually Hisoka’s line when he’d fuck you, he always loved to comment on your fucked out expression; per his words, it fuelled his sex drive like gasoline on fire.

Hisoka could only reply with a bite of his lip. Another set of fresh tears rolled down his crimson coloured cheeks as electrifying shocks of pleasure washed over his body. With the harsh jolts of his body, and tears clouding his gaze, he couldn’t even see you properly but that didn’t really matter since he could feel you perfectly fine.

“Fist your cock for me.” You breathed out.

Hisoka snaked a shaky hand down to the apex of his legs where his cock remained untouched, and hard. He wrapped his deft fingers around the shaft, back arched off the mattress at the added pleasure, “Aah! Fuck, that feels so—ngh! So good!” Hisoka’s lips curled into a crazed smile, a breathy chuckle erupted from his throat at the feel of his hole, and cock being simultaneously pleasure.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Everything felt too fucking good, he couldn’t help but feel amused.

Completely letting himself go, Hisoka eagerly fisted his cock in time with your thrusts. His body stiffened under the immense pleasure he felt, a series of incoherent sentences flowed out of his mouth as though he spoke another language.

Hisoka was close.

So fucking close to his orgasm  as the knot inside his stomach threatened to snap with each passing second—with each thrust of your hips.

The only thing grounding him right now was his free hand curling around the ivory sheets, and if he were to let go, he might actually start floating as though on cloud nine.

“Ah—! Mhm! Yes! That’s it, baby don’t stop!” 

And you didn’t, you kept the same merciless pace despite the resistance of his walls making it a little harder to thrust inside. Hisoka panted like a dog, bare, sweaty chest heaving up, and down as if his life depended on it; his precum-covered thumb deftly rubbed at his sensitive slit—up, and down, up, and down, fast, tight circles along the tip of his cock head.

Pleasure gnawed at Hisoka’s very bones, his body trembled with immense pleasure; mind completely blank, and in a lust-filled haze. Every muscle inside his body stiffened as climax neared, all four limbs tingling with a foreign sensation as though a million butterflies kissed his bare skin.

With one last thrust from you, and a few more tight rubs on his tip, Hisoka unceremoniously came with a loud moan of your name while pressing his head further into the pillow beneath.

Ribbons, and ribbons of thick ivory spurted from his hardened cock, and onto his chiselled abdomen—Hisoka’s face contorted in pure pleasure, completely lost in the sinful sensation.

Fuck, it felt like his head was spinning.

The two of you stayed still for a moment, allowing him to bask in the serene aftermath of an earth shattering orgasm, heavy pants from both of you quickly replaced Hisoka’s lewd moans. After a heartbeat, he opened his eyes, and you were met with a cold amber stare, full of predatory intent, and carnal desire,

And with a sinister curl of his lips, Hisoka breathed out, “Now then, it’s my turn.”

—

affiliated with @houseofsolisoccasum & @pixelcafe-network !