#also like I would not believe this bastard man on anything so there’s that too

[grimoireofhayley]

Shackles

Leon S. Kennedy x TF141!Reader

Inspired by both events of Modern Warfare 2, Resident Evil (Games & Animated Movies) and the Song Shackles by Steven Rodriguez

Shackles Master List

Warnings: Smut (Eventually), Swearing, Blood & Gore, Flirting, BDSM (Eventually), Implied Mental Health Struggles, Alcoholism, Trauma, Torture, Eventual Kidnapping , Age Gap (Leon is 48 and reader is 25), Enemies to Lovers, Leon is an absolute ass at first, Slight Ghost x Reader x Soap if you squint, Abuse, Masochism

A/n: I apologize if reader seems like a Mary-sue… I couldn’t help it, I wanted the reader to seem more badass/Independent… I’m not very good at describing it, however, I hope you enjoy. 😊 Also, this song inspired the way this chapter played out lol. Listen to it as you read, you won’t regret it.

Chapter 4:

Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz were standing to the side, having watched the events unfold in front of them. They were trying to contain their amusement, but the entire situation was just too good to be true.

Soap slapped his knee, bursting out into laughter. “That was bloody brilliant.”

Price shook his head, a smile playing at his lips. “That’s one hell of a woman,” he chuckled, “Thank god she’s on our team.”

Ghost let out a low whistle, still in shock at what he had just witnessed. “I don’t know if I’m more surprised or impressed. That was some serious power she had over him.”

Soap chuckled again, “She’s got ‘em right where she wants him.”

Price nodded in agreement, “Seems that way. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so rattled before, even when I held him at gun point…”

The four men continued to watch, all of them amused and entertained by the situation. They knew Leon wouldn’t recover from this.

Leon stood up, dusting himself off, as he looked over at the four, a look of embarrassment on his face. He could hear the sound of their laughter, it was annoying.

He took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. He knew he had been humbled for maybe the first time in his life, and it was by a woman no less.

And a woman that he can’t get out of his head.

Soap snickered, “Look at his face. I dinnae think I’ve ever seen him look so defeated.”

Gaz smirked, “The look of a man who’s been put in his place, isn’t it beautiful?”

Ghost chuckled, “Looks like he finally got what he deserved. Cocky ‘lil bastard.”

All the men laughed again, clearly enjoying Leon’s current state.

Leon watched as (Y/n) brushed past him, her eyes avoiding his gaze. He wanted to call out to her, to say something, anything, but the words refused to come.

He felt a mix of humiliation and desire warring within him, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He could hear the laughs and taunts of the others in the background, mocking him for his current state, and it only made things worse.

Leon continued to watch her, her scent lingering in the air, his eyes following her every movement. He couldn’t believe what had just happened.

He was so used to being in control, but she had completely turned the tables, and he was struggling to process it.

He turned to look at Price, Soap, Ghost and Gaz, all still laughing at his expense. He scowled, “Piss off, all of you…”

“What’s the matter, Kennedy? Can’t take a little humiliation?” Soap taunted, still chuckling.

Ghost joined in, “Looks like someone can’t ‘andle a strong independent woman.”

Price had a smirk on his face, enjoying this more than the others. “I don’t know what’s funnier, you being put in your place like that, or the fact that you were practically drooling over our lil’ lass…”

Leon’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment as the rest of (Y/n)’s teammates continued to laugh at him. He knew they would never let him live this down.

He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. “She just took me by surprise, that’s all,” he muttered.

Soap chuckled. “If by surprise you mean ‘completely knocked off yer feet’, then yeah, sure.”

Ghost raised an eyebrow, a smug expression behind the fabric of his mask, “You seemed to be enjoyin’ it, a ‘lil too much if you ask me…”

Leon rolled his eyes. “Like you’d fare any better in my position.”

Soap’s smirk widened. “Oh, I dunno about that. I think I could handle her.”

Ghost grunted, “You’d be on your ass in ten seconds flat.” His London-cockney accent deepening with each word he spoke.

Leon felt a pang of jealousy at the thought of Soap trying to hit on (Y/n). Something about the idea annoyed the hell out of him.

He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his expression neutral. “You wouldn’t stand a chance.”

She scoffed, her hands tightening around her weapon. “Enough, the lot of you.” She snivelled, “I am not a bet, or some whore you bed during missions..” (Y/n) groaned, “Just because I have tits and an ass does not mean you can treat me like a toy or act as if I am not here.” She brought her rifle up, pointing it to the ceiling again, leaning on one foot, “And besides, neither of you can handle me.” She barked, trudging past the males ahead of her.

Soap and the others fell silent, stunned by (Y/n)'s sharp response. They hadn't expected such a vehement reaction from her, at least, not to her own comrades… She knew they were kidding, right? Usually she’d be in on it, joking around with them, or maybe it was because Leon had gotten inside her head? Yeah, that had to be the case. Fuckin’ bastard.

Leon, however, felt a strange mixture of admiration and arousal as he watched her storm past them. Her confidence was both attractive and intimidating, and he found himself wanting to see more of it.

Gaz spoke up, his tone apologetic, "We didn't mean anything by it, lass."

“I know you didn’t…” She softly spoke, walking towards Captain Price. “Can we focus on the mission?” Her tone was neutral.

Price nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. “O’ course.”

The team regained their composure, refocusing their attention on the task at hand. Leon couldn't help but steal glances at her as they prepared for their next move. Despite her earlier outburst, he found himself more intrigued by her than ever even if she did humiliate him.

__

The groans and moans of the undead were heard like an orchestra of gurgling, loitering about outside of the Raccoon City Police Station, ramming into the doors, windows and walls trying to get in. No doubt from the commotion inside, especially when (Y/n) riddled the ceiling with bullets earlier - the noise brought unwanted attention.

Leon and the TF141 were swarmed and the things outside… were hungry.

The team prepared their weapons, getting ready for the imminent onslaught of undead. Leon checked his gear, securing his pistol and ammo. He looked to the others, nodding in readiness.

Gaz looked out through the window, “They’re practically pounding on the door. We can’t stay in here for much longer…”

Soap scanned the area, “Looks like our only option is to fight our way out?” He said more of a question than anything, feeling the unease set in from the mission.

“Fuck no.” Price spoke, “We need to come up with another plan first and fast.”

(Y/n) sighed, placing her weapon behind her, securely strapping it over her shoulder.

She had her own plan and it was only going to work if the idiots in front of her stayed distracted, or else they wouldn’t let her go out there on her own; they’d fight her against it.

(Y/n) had eyed a vehicle near by that was behind the horde, noise was the only thing that could get them to bugger off and away from the building, it’s the only way any of them have a chance to escape and get to the hospital - point B.

(Y/n) tiptoed around the men, heading to the exit door that was nearest to the car, she was on high alert, but she was determined, the plan had to work.

Crouching, she rested her hand above her switchblade, ready to pull it out in case a stray zombie spotted her as she opened the exit door.

__

Making her way to the car, she opened the hood of it.

Yes, this was going to work. There’s no way it won’t.

Bending over, (Y/n) smirked to herself, severing the wire to the car alarm. She closed the hood just as the summer breeze picked up, ridden with plague, as it blew her hair all over the place.

She pulled her leather glove tighter on her hand using her teeth, then made a fist, punching the glass to the drivers side, reaching her hand to the tab that locked the car, unlocking it.

__

Leon, Soap, Ghost and Gaz were still in the main room, discussing their strategy. They were oblivious to (Y/n)’s absence, focused on their own conversation.

Leon ran a hand through his brunette hair, deep in thought. "We need to be careful. If we alert the horde to our presence, we'll be overrun in seconds."

Soap nodded in agreement, "Aye, we need to find a way to distract them."

Ghost only looked ahead of him, watching as the dead continued to throw themselves at the building, gripping his weapon.

Captain Price was silent, deep in thought as his eyes flickered; something, or someone was missing…

Leon continued to strategize with the others, his mind occupied with figuring out the best approach. He noticed Captain Price was distracted, his eyes darting around the room, as if searching for something. Suddenly, he realized it, "Wait a minute...where's (Y/n)?”

__

(Y/n) opened the car door, closing it, adrenaline pumping through her.

She rummaged around, highjacking the car’s engine to get it to start, “C’mon…” She spoke quietly, trying to get a spark. “You can do it, baby..” She grunted, finally getting a reaction from the vehicle. She silently cheered as the headlights turned on, directing the soft glow to the Police Station where the others were.

__

Leon, Soap, Ghost, and Gaz turned towards the headlights, their eyes narrowing as the car engine roared to life.

Gaz's eyes widened, "Is she...?"

Soap smirked, "Looks like the lass has a plan of her own."

Ghost sniffled, "Reckless, but it just might work."

Captain Price raised an eyebrow, a hint of admiration in his eyes.

Leon now felt a mix of worry and pride as he watched (Y/n).

He turned to the others, “Is she out of her goddamn mind? She's going to get herself killed.”

Soap chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. “Looks like she's got things under control.”

Gaz rolled his eyes, "Or she's about to get herself killed. You know how she is, bloody woman has a death wish.”

__

(Y/n) gripped the steering wheel, revving the engine, gaining some attention from the walkers, she quickly turned the radio on with a flick of her wrist and Hollywood Undead’s song ‘Riot’ started to play…

“I've been searching for an answer, but I ain't found one, I've been known to tear shit up and go off like a gun. I've been drinking way too much, but now I think I'm done…” The lyrics echoed loudly, alerting any, if not, all dead nearby.

“Okay, new plan…” She chuckled, revving the engine again and the tires skidded as she drove.

The men watched in astonishment as (Y/n) floored the gas pedal, heading straight for the horde of undead.

Soap whistled, "Bloody hell, she's doing it."

Ghost's eyes widened, "Is she nuts?"

"Apparently so," Gaz muttered.

Captain Price chuckled, "Can't say I'm surprised."

Leon couldn't believe what he was seeing. (Y/n), the woman who had just put him in his place, was now driving headfirst into a horde of zombies. It was both madness and impressive.

He shook his head, "She's going to get herself killed." He repeated.

Gaz smirked, "Or she's just being the badass we all know she is."

Ghost chuckled, "Aye, that's our (Y/n) for ya.."

The car plowed through the undead, sending them flying in every direction. (Y/n) expertly maneuvered the vehicle, narrowly avoiding the grasping hands of the zombies.

Soap, Ghost and Gaz were in awe, watching the spectacle unfold. Leon was still in shock, torn between admiration and concern.

The team could barely believe what (Y/n) was doing. Driving straight through a horde of undead was impressive enough, but to then reverse into the police station with only one hand on the wheel…it was downright crazy.

Soap groaned, “She's got balls.”

Gaz shook his head, "I'll never doubt the lass again."

Ghost just chuckled, unable to hide his smirk. Even Captain Price had a hint of a smile on his face, they had trained her well.

She poked her head out of the shattered window, waving her arm at them, her other hand still gripping the wheel. “Well, what are you dumbasses waitin’ for? Get in!” She ordered, turning the music off.

The team snapped out of their shock, quickly following (Y/n)’s command. They hurried to the car, climbing into the backseat and piling in, Leon found himself sitting in the passenger seat, their shoulders brushing against one another. He tried to ignore the flicker of electricity he felt at the contact, but eventually gave in to it as he sucked in a shaky breath.

Leon closed the door, "You're absolutely batshit." he said, unable to hide the admiration in his voice.

(Y/n) only shot him a wink.

Gaz, Soap, Ghost and Price were squished in the backseat, trying to find room to breathe. Ghost was particularly uncomfortable, grumbling about the lack of space, “Aye, you couldna find a bigger vehicle?”

(Y/n) laughed as she noticed Ghost's discomfort. "Sorry, mate, but beggars can't be choosers in a zombie apocalypse." She glanced in the rearview mirror at the team squished in the backseat. "Sorry lads, this was the best I could do."

Gaz tried to readjust himself, his elbow bumping into Soap's side. "Yeah, I can feel that."

Soap winced, but couldn’t resist adding a tease, "At least it's a bit cozy back here, eh?"

Ghost grumbled, trying his best to shoot Soap a glare, “If by cozy, you mean claustrophobic, then sure, it’s fuckin’ cozy.”

Captain Price just chuckled at their banter. "Stop squabbling and just be glad we're not being eaten alive right about now."

Leon leaned back in his seat, still in awe at (Y/n)’s driving. "You really are something else, you know that?"

(Y/n) shot him a playful smirk, "I know."

Gaz and Soap snickered in the back, knowing full well how much Leon liked that smirk.

Ghost groaned, growing more and more irritated by the cramped space. "Can we get movin’? I'm being crushed over here."

“Yes, sir.” (Y/n) mock saluted Ghost, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Hold on tight boys.” She purred, getting ready to move.

The team braced themselves for the impending speed, grabbing onto whatever they could to steady themselves.

Soap, as always, had a quip ready, "Well, this is just like a roller-coaster, innit?"

Gaz, who was smushed between Soap and Ghost, tried to find a stable position. "Aye, a roller-coaster with no safety bar."

Ghost grumbled, "I'd rather be chased by the undead than stuck in this car any longer." He attempted to adjust his long legs, but to no avail, he couldn’t budge.

Captain Price just chuckled at their banter. "You lads need to lighten up, it's not so bad."

Leon couldn't help but grin at the interaction.

(Y/n) leaned forward, quickly turning the music back on. “Aye, this is going to be a bumpy ride.” She warned.

The car screeched as (Y/n) slammed the pedal to the floor, the team holding on for dear life in the backseat.

Soap chuckled, "Bloody hell, she's a maniac behind the wheel."

Ghost gritted his teeth, "I think 'maniac' is being kind."

<— Previous Next —>

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[OLD ART ALERT] A COLLECTION OF SCENES FROM THE GILLIONS CATSCRATCH ARC THAT BROUGHT ME GREAT JOY. i love fishy chips especially when its just gillion being delirious and violent and hostile

[wtfaniii]

Req for a Hwang In-ho os with kind off parenting scenarios like what if by mistake a toddler was brought to the games and he ends up in the caretaker roll (and yes he gives off daddy vibes ya know !)

God I loved this one, I feel like him would be great protector.

¿What if...? a little girl entered the games

little girl x Hwang In-ho father figure

Summary: Your eleven-year-old self is taken to an island believing you'll be a little entertainment.

Warning: In-ho may not be that attached to the original character ¡this man will be a big hug bear here!

Note: I do my best to answer the rest of the requests, thanks for your support!! And if I make a mistake I accept constructive criticism!

You lived alone on the street, you didn't know anything about your parents and every day was a struggle until one day you saw a man in a suit playing Ddakji with another person, when you saw that he gave money as a reward if you beat him quickly went to him.

At first he ignored you and walked away with you right behind him but you were so persistent that after walking a few blocks he finally turned to with a raised eyebrow.

You played with him and won every time, received money and a card to continue playing for more money.

You didn't owe anything, he knew that, but he thought he was doing you a favor by opening the doors to the slaughterhouse, maybe it would be better than you continuing to sleep in a box and eat leftover food.

"She's going to die anyway, I'm just making her suffering shorter" thought the salesman.

What he didn't know is that a certain man would take a liking to you as soon as he saw you.

You played "green light, red light" and managed to get through without a scratch, you were scared but Gi-hun made sure to keep you safe during this game.

—¡They are bastards! ¡They brought a little girl for the love of God! —456 screamed to the sky as the ceiling loomed over their heads, the other player 390 covered your eyes so you wouldn't see all the carnage they left behind in the first round.

Meanwhile... The Front Man's firm footsteps echoed through the hallways as he made his way to the control booth, when he arrived, he spoke in a voice that chilled the blood of his employees.

—¿Who let her in?

He knew the salesman, he knew the heartless idiot had no empathy for even a puppy but the fact that these guards had dressed you up and put you in that arena gave him a headache.

When he was given the number of the one who allowed you to get into the first game, he personally took it upon himself to put a bullet in him head.

He thought about getting you out immediately but considering the fact that he would also be infiltrating there and how after that massacre you were playing and talking non-stop with 390 and 456 as if nothing had happened, he let you continue but this time under his personal supervision.

It was quite easy for him to infiltrate and join Gi-hun, keeping his enemy close would be very useful but he also kept his eyes on you.

—Eat this too —In-ho handed you his can of food when he saw how quickly you had finished the rice, sausage and egg.

—No thanks —The smile you gave him almost made his hard heart beat—You should eat too, but if you insist so much you can give me the sausages.

You finished with a smile, to which he returned the gesture and gave you part of his portion.

During the night he took care of covering you with the blanket so that you wouldn't be cold and of laying you in bed next to him in case you had a nightmare, but to his surprise and that of your new friends, you slept all night without interruptions.

When it was time to go to the next game, In-ho kept you by his side so that you would be on his team with Gi-hun.

His team made it to the end so he wasn't worried if they lost, if they did neither you nor he would have died and there would be no witnesses.

He would break just a few of the rules to stay you alive.

Every time some players were eliminated, you covered your ears and closed your eyes tightly, something that moved him so much that he also distracted you by talking to you every time the guards removed the bodies to prevent you from seeing all that show of death and blood.

After the second vote Jung-bae was sorry for choosing the circle so he apologized to you and Jun-hee.

—It's okay, as long as we're together ¡we'll win! —You said with a beaming smile as Young-il ruffled your hair in excitement.

The day seemed long in there, but you didn't get bored with Young-il. He told you some children's stories and played with you.

However, when you were playing with the empty milk carton you accidentally hit the back of player 100.

—Oops, sorry sir —You said politely, reaching out to grab the little box from the floor, but before you could do so, he stepped on it hard, stepping on two of your fingers of the hand in the process.

Your cry of pain caught In-ho's immediate attention, he cut off the conversation he was having with Gi-hun and went to you.

—¡¿How is it possible that you are still alive?! ¡You are just a little brat!

In-ho effortlessly picked you and hug against his chest.

With just one look he silenced the man, it wasn't a warning, it was a threat, that man had hurt you and he would make sure him paid the consequences, not now, but he would definitely suffer.

—I told you not to stray too far from me —He said as he walked back to his place with the others.

You just nodded still with tears in your eyes and hugging him by the neck, he left you on the bed and took your hand to analyze the damage.

—You didn't hurt yourself much, you'll be better after pouring cold water on yourself in the bath —He said trying to calm you down, he dried the tears from your cheeks and kissed your forehead, it was an act he did on impulse and it even surprised himself a little.

"You'll be a great father" Gi-hun told him when you were sleeping, which was strange, the last time he heard that was when his wife talked to him about starting a family, he silently thanked but deep down he felt different, as if you had been able to reach the light inside him, a light he had considered extinct.

During the third game he stayed close to you, every time it was time to team up and run into a room he made sure to hold your hand.

Until the time came to form a team of four, there were many in his group so you and he separated, the counter reached zero and In-ho managed to get you two into a room and close it.

—But we're missing two —You said somewhat nervously and scared while the shots rang out from outside.

—Listen to me —In-ho knelt in front of you and held your shoulders —I need you to keep this a secret,

He gave a quick glance to the camera in the corner, they weren't going to kill them even if they cheated but now he needed no one else to find out about this.

—But it's cheating... —You murmured, confused and still a little scared.

—Promise me you won't say anything about this, not to Gi-hun or the others.

You nodded silently, you didn't say anything and that, without knowing it, would cost the lives of some of your friends.

That same night, there was a rebellion organized by 456.

You wanted to go with them, believing yourself strong enough to help them, but Young-il opposed it.

—I'm not going to let you come with us—He said firmly as he took you by the hand and led you back to the rest of the players —It's dangerous, you will stay with them until we return.

He left you in the hands of 149, 222 and 007, the older woman was the one who had the most empathy for you so In-ho knew you would be fine until his guards came for you.

[...]

After returning to his place as Front man, he sent a group of guards to control the rest of the players in the room and get you out of there.

"Player 398, you must come with us" when you heard that and saw the guards coming towards you, you hugged 149, you were scared, after all you were a girl and didn't know what was happening.

Geum-ja also held you tightly to prevent you from being taken away but it was useless, In-ho was surprised by how you won the affection of her, Jun-hee, Hyun-ju and Myung-gi to the point that they were able to stand up to his soldiers.

As were led through the colorful hallways you bit the hand of one of the pink guards and kicked the other to escape, you had spent entire short life on the streets so escaping was one of your skills, the first thing you did was call some of your friends, including Young-il.

But there came a time when you started to cry, believing that they were dead and you sat on the ground, you remained there scared and worried until once again two guards found you, this time accompanied by a man dressed in grey and a black mask.

When you looked up, he could see your watery eyes and red nose, which made his affection for you grow and not caring about his own rules about secret identity, he took off his mask and crouched down to be at your level.

He didn't know what to say to you, how to handle this situation in which you were so confused and overwhelmed, so when you hugged him he just returned the gesture and got up from the floor with you.

—It's okay, you're going to be fine —He whispered to you calmly while caressing your hair.

In-ho didn't know anything about being a father, he hadn't thought about being one since his wife died but he would do everything possible to take care of you from now on, for a few seconds he thought about sending you with Jun-ho and his mother but he preferred not to, besides, you didn't want to leave him alone for even a second.

He would teach you how to use weapons and defend yourself, he would also try to get you to accompany him everywhere or remain under surveillance, you quickly became a weakness so the safer you are the safer he will be too.

He didn't explain everything to you in detail, much less what role he had in these games, he believed that you wouldn't forgive him so the less you know the better for you, but you weren't stupid, the life you had before meeting him made you analyze things better than many others.

You knew that whatever his job was, it wasn't good but you didn't judge him or talk to him.

To you, he was like your father and that would make you defend him tooth and nail from anyone who wanted to hurt him.

In case Gi-hun ends the games, Jun-ho would probably take responsibility for you and let you visit In-ho in prison, (when you're older, you'll probably help him escape and move to another continent).

But if not, you will probably be given the front man position when you grow up because you are trained enough by this man, you will be calculating and probably a younger, female version of him.

N/A: Ok, I hope this is what you expected and thanks for this idea!

I honestly think In-ho wouldn't canonically take responsibility for a child, maybe he would protect sometimes like 222, but I don't think he would care afterwards, that man is beyond help 😭

[beardysuits]

Closer to Dad pt 2

Part 1 found here

I can’t believe it, I’m uncle Rob! I was still getting used to being a solid 50 pounds heavier, probably even more to be honest. When I dressed up as Rob, I had chosen one of his older football jerseys to feel his stomach pressed against his beefy belly. Each step I took I could feel the fabric stretch to accommodate my new form. I patted it, feeling the jiggle ripple through the rest of my abdomen. This was going to be a fun day.

Normally it would have taken me about 15 minutes to get from Rob’s house back to mine, but with my new longer legs, and the amount of excitement built in, I made it in half the time. Stepping up to the front door, my heart was racing in anticipation. I haven’t spent real quality time with my dad in what felt likes years. To go from being the scrawny son he essentially ignored, to becoming his best friend and brother, was a dramatic shift. However, I let out a long breath of air and pounded on the door with my strong fist. 

Dad, I guess I should refer to him by his first name now, Mike, opened the door and looked at me inquisitively. He wasn’t even wearing his usual jersey, just a green t shirt and jeans, his hair messy, with the locks shining in the golden sunlight. 

“Rob? What are you doing knocking on the door? You haven’t done anything but stroll in like a bastard for years”. Shit, of course I should have just walked in. Rob’s been coming over to our place for years now to hang out with my dad. I chuckled to try and cover.

“What and not take you up on opening the door for me? Fat chance,” I told him with my best uncle Rob impersonation. He rolled his eyes and ushered me in. I think I can still play this off. Coming into my home as Rob made it feel like a brand new experience, like I was stepping foot for the first time. Though that may just be because I’m about a foot taller and my perception has greatly shifted at this new height. 

“You want a beer?” Mike asked, closing the door behind me. 

“It can’t even be 8 am,” I told him without a second thought. His eyebrow raised again. 

“What took you so long to ask?” I asked him back. He scoffed and wandered off to the kitchen. My heart would not slow down. I can make a couple of recoveries, but what am I supposed to do when he actually starts talking about football? Mike came back, and tossed me an unopened can. I popped the tab and took a swing, almost spitting it right back out. Fuck me, that’s what beer tastes like? At the tender age of 20, I was just shy of getting myself any alcohol of my own. Though also, at the tender heart, I was too chicken to sneak one of my dad’s to try before today. 

Thankfully Mike had his back turned to me, otherwise he surely would have seen me grimace from the taste. 

“So, game’s not for another hour,” he said, coming back from the kitchen again, this time holding the entire box full of beers. Oh god do I have to drink all of those? I can’t even stomach one. 

“How about you make your lazy ass of some use and help me stock the fridge? Especially since you didn’t bring any of your own,” he continued. Was I supposed to bring something? I’m clearly an awful guest. I followed him downstairs to his man cave, one which I rarely stepped foot in. 

It was what one would expect of a middle aged man who was obsessed with football. A once plush couch now worn out from years of ass being met with it, a small beer fridge along the side, massive flat screen tv along the back wall. If you pick up a copy of “Man Caves for Dummies”, you’d find this on chapter one. Mike shoved the box of beers at me and I waddled off to the fridge to stock up. Not like there was much space anyways, he always kept it pretty filled. 

As I was finishing up the bottom level of the fridge, I felt a hard smack against my ass, almost causing me to shove my whole head into the fridge. 

“Hurry up slowpoke, I wanna get these chilled before the game starts,” Mike said, pulling another beer out of the top shelf. He already finished the first one? I was too distracted to even drink mine, now so aroused at my ass getting smacked, and being ordered around by my dad. Don’t get me wrong, I was used to him ordering me around before, but this time it was playful. It didn’t help that my new cock was pressed against the silky material of my jockstrap, hidden under Rob’s set of Wranglers. I was chubbed up since I came in his body earlier today, but the touch of Mike, and the material sliding against it, made me rock hard. 

I adjusted my pants to help try and mitigate how much of my cock showed and closed the fridge door behind me. 

“Just giving you time to remember how I got the good ass genes from dad,” I told him. I turned and shook my ass at him, smacking it myself. Fuck Rob’s butt really kept up some perk since his old military days. 

“Please, the only thing you got from dad was a bad back and a receding hairline,” he said, chuckling to himself. He took a swig out of his beer and I decided to mirror him. This time, I knew what to expect and choked down the ale with less effort. This actually wasn’t too bad after a while. He reclined back on the couch and kicked his feet up on the corner L of the sofa. He was wearing his basketball shorts and his calves were showing. I never looked at my father in a suggestive way from the implication alone, but I wasn’t me right now. Even as his brother it felt like I was somebody entirely different. 

I could admire how strong his legs looked, especially when he stretched one of them out to pop his knee. The shorts rode up and a brief glimpse of his thigh bared itself to me. This didn’t help my need to hide my raging boner at all. He turned his attention from the TV and looked at me. 

“What are you waiting for? Permission?” He asked. I sat on the opposite end of the couch from him. We had an hour until the game, and I immensely regretted not doing more research before I took over Rob. Mike tried to engage with me about the team, sports, players, and I did my best to rebut against them with jokes and more general comments. He definitely knew something was up though. I drank through the whole thing, feeling my new belly slosh as it contained nothing but beer. The jersey I was wearing started to feel even tighter as I felt my stomach expand to accommodate. 

“Jeez Rob are you okay?” He asked me, minutes before the game began. My consciousness was starting to fade some, the alcohol finally starting to kick in. I had to have been 6 beers in by this point, only taking so long due to Rob’s large build. 

“What do you mean?” I asked him, blinking slowly to orient myself. He finished his last bit of his drink and threw it into the closest trash can. 

“You aren’t yourself. No idea what I’m talking about, stumbling through any conversation, it’s like I’m talking to…” he shrugged, “well, Timmy”. That made me snap into focus. The original plan when I took over Rob was to talk to my dad about anything but football, and hopefully, make him actually like the real me. 

“What about Tim?” I asked him. He cracked open a new beer. 

“Well you know, he’s a good kid, but I just don’t get him. Always up in his room all day, toying around with those little figures of his.” My figures I paint as a hobby. Something about bringing those little guys to life brought me a lot of calm. I didn’t even think my dad knew they existed.

“Have you tried connecting with him about what he likes?” I asked him. I knew the answer, but wanted to hear him admit it. 

“Yeah,” he said. Liar. “I mean, kind of. I just don’t get it. You known when we were growing up we were outside, running around the woods, getting dirty. Tim he just, I don’t know, is just a shut in. We didn’t grow up like that, he actually did things. Like when we kidnapped the Connors’ dog and posted a ransom to buy snacks in the summer. I mean you know, we did a LOT together. Tried new things, grew closer. He doesn’t do anything, just toys away and plays on that damn computer”. 

Ouch. Can’t say I’m surprised though, it’s about what I expected him to feel. 

“But I wanna connect with him, you know. I want to be his dad, not just his father. I taught him to ride a bike, hit a baseball, how football works. Then he became a teenager and just dropped all of it and became a different kid.” I was about to open another beer, but wanted to be as much of myself as possible. 

“You know Mike, I think he may have always been like this,” I told him. He raised an eyebrow in response. “I think, he just wanted to be the person you wanted him to be so you’d love him. But, he found out that he wasn’t happy doing those things, so he just decided to be himself, and hope you’d love him anyway.” 

Mike was silent for a long time, not even taking another drink. 

“That is, at least my theory,” I said. He shrugged and pondered. 

“I mean I do love him, no matter what he does,” he finally said. “He’s my son. He can be a pro athlete or build and sell a computer for a living. I just figured since we had so much fun together and have great memories, that’s how he should do it too. But, maybe I should try and see how we can do what he likes more.”

I could feel the tears well in my eyes. Fuck Dad, why couldn’t you just tell me that. 

“Thanks Rob for just letting me- are you crying?” He asked. I wiped the tears away and hid my face from him.

“No no, just, fuck it,” I said, looking for a new beer. 

“You fucking softie,” he said, a hearty laugh escaping him. “Here, for you listening to my bitching.” He leaned over the armrest of the sofa for a little while and finally pulled out a new can. He tossed it to me. Raising his own, he opened the tab. I did the same, only to be met with a flare of foam dousing me. He cackled and slapped his knee. 

“Fucker!” I yelled at him, already becoming inhibited from all the drinks. “Gotta change this fucking shirt now,” I told him. I could feel the words slurring as the alcohol came on harder. I stood up, stepping back to try and regain my balance. I grabbed the bottom of my jersey with both hands and yanked it up, my head stuck in the hole before finally tugging it off and slamming it to he ground. 

I looked down, once again admiring Rob’s hairy chest and beautiful pecs. The years of service he did performed wonders on his body, which he didn’t give up on as he reached middle age. 

“Give me a shirt,” I told him, trying to make it to the staircase. 

“Rob fucking sit down, you’re fine,” he called out to me. “Let that shit dry and just be half naked for a bit you puss.” I walked back and fell back on the sofa. My cheeks were flaring up and I could feel my heart pounding from the exertion. I put my hand on my chest to feel the heart rate, and couldn’t help but squeeze a little, feeling the pec succumb to my own touch. I chuckled and looked over to my father, who was looking at me intently. I chuckled to him.

“What?” I asked, losing sight in trying to pretend to be Rob at this point. He smirked. 

“Nothing, just, all this talk about our childhoods is making me just remember the good old times. You know know, the Connors dog, the woods, the…. late night talks. Ones about girls, and who was hot in my grade, who was hot in yours. How we’d-“ he pulled his own shirt off and threw it on top of mine. “Try to figure out what would make them feel good”. 

I admired Mike’s body, not as toned as mine, but certainly he took care of himself as he aged. He own chest displayed a gorgeous set of fur. How did I miss out on just how beautiful he was? How did I not get these genes and looked more like my mother? How is he looking at me so… sexually? He slid down the L of the sofa, laying his head against the back cushion, throwing an arm behind his head to rest it. His armpit was shadowed in a dark bush, which I can only imagine smelled of a strong musk. 

Wait what the fuck? This is my dad, or my brother? He’s family, but I did jerk off my own uncle just hours before. He’s my dad, but he’s also not making this weird. He’s.. he’s.. fuck he’s sexy! 

“Game’s about to start,” I told him finally, not taking my eyes off his physique. 

“They’re playing the Buccaneers, I know how it’ll go,” he said. He got on all fours and crawled to me. Judging from the look in his eyes, the beers had taken their toll on him as well. We were now face to face, mere inches from one another. I could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and planted his lips on mine. I pushed back a bit, but he wouldn’t let me break away. His tongue slithered forward and traced it along my new one. I gave in and wrestled his with my own, my lips moving in sync with his. He placed a hand on my chest and squeezed at my pec, the warm touch juxtaposing with the shivers which shot through me. 

I took my hand and placed it on the back of his head, brushing my fingers through his salt and pepper hair. As I gripped at it, he became more aggressive and reached for my throat. He wasn’t rough with it, but placed his thumb just below my Adams apple, pressing firmly. My breath was ragged from his force, and my pants had grown so incredibly tight in futile attempts to restrain my cock. My other hand went on the lower end of his back, guiding him to press into me, the fur on our chests entangling. 

He slipped his mouth away from my lips, running them down my neck, kissing me as he lowered himself further down this stolen body. When he got to my belly, he took extra time to take both hands and rub them across it. He worshipped my stomach, kissing at it, gripping, and without a single word, making me know it was his. His hands ran down my stomach to zipper off my hands, toying with it. I spoke back to him with my dick, flexing it to tell him it needed to be released. 

He looked up at me and smirked, lowering his head down again to lick at my bulge. It was torture, I needed to produce it to him and have it slide down his throat. I reached my hand down to get to my pants, but he immediately snapped and grasped my wrists. 

“Uh uh,” he hushed. “Remember, I’m making you the girl here. And a good girl, lets the man do what he wants.” He released my wrists and finally got his hands back on my zipper. He zipped it down, before finally finishing with a flourish and pulling the Wranglers down to my ankles. He worked to get them kicked off my feet, before being met a silky pink jockstrap, which could snap at a moments notice. It was absolutely soaked in precum, and my dick had pushed it to its limits. 

“What the fuck Rob? You sporting these now?” He asked me. I smirked at him. 

“Was just remembering the good times,” I told him with a wink. He seemed to hesitate, almost snapping back to reality. However, the lust must have taken over, as he proceeded to take his tongue and lick up the precum which topped off the jock. Just feeling the tip of his tongue hit my cock made me groan involuntarily. 

“Shut up, Tim might be home,” he told me. I wouldn’t worry about that, I wanted to tell him, but no words could form at this point. He proceeded to lap at my bulge, seeming to suck off any of the pre which had accumulated. Just as it seemed he was about to pull my jock off, he backed away. Fuck, was something wrong? I looked up and saw him working on getting his own pants off. He was struggling, barely able to move at all. 

I assisted him, leaning forward and not taking the same slow care he had given me. I yanked the pants off and discovered two thing about my dad. One, he liked to go commando. Two, he had an impressive cock. Veiny, hard as a rock, and long enough that I knew he could rub out a prostate without even going halfway in. If he was the surprisingly soft and sultry type, I was the ravenous one. I had never actually sucked a dick before, but had watched plenty of films to emulate what others had done. I gripped the base of his shaft, which despite how large my new hands were, still was an intimidating beast. 

I licked at the head of his cock, tasing the musky aroma come to life as the sensation of manhood trickled down my throat. He tasted amazing, his own precum starting to mix with the sweat he had built through the day. I licked my lips, lubing them up as I began to take his entire cock into my mouth. The years of study had prepared me somewhat for what it took to take him, but practice made perfect. At first I almost gagged and vomited the half dozen beers which still waved in my stomach, but as I got into a rhythm, it became easier. He leaned his head back and didn’t say a word, but moans were suppressed from his closed mouth. 

He raised both arms up, showing off his pits. The smell permeated through the air, filling my nostrils. He must have not showered in the past couple of days, as I could smell the usual scent of my father embody the room. It motivated me to work harder, pushing my lips to the base of his balls and holding them in place. He grabbed the sides of my head and thrust his cock back and forth, skull fucking me as a growls began to erupt from him. 

I thought he was about to coat my throat with his cum, but just as he was about to finish, he threw my head back and pushed me to the other side of the sofa. I looked up to find him jerking himself off and staring at me seductively. 

“Turn around and show your big brother that hole of yours,” he commanded, sitting up on his knees. I did as he was told, getting on all fours and facing away from him. I felt the couch move below him as he crawled to me. He spit, and the sensation of his saliva against my hole made me shake. With one hand, he spread my ass cheek to the side, and with the other, I felt him guide the tip of his cock. Pressing against my hole, I gripped at the fabric in the couch, my knuckles turning white. 

“Easy,” he told me. “Remember, just like we used to practice.” He pushed the tip and my hole reluctantly allowed him in. It was a shock of pain which made me scream. His hand quickly shot to my mouth and covered it, muffling my howls.

“I told you to shut up,” He said. He kept pushing his cock further in, still holding my mouth closed. He inch which slid its way in made me try to yell louder in and louder, but his calloused hand pressed harder against my lips. There was a sensation, a pop. Immediately I stopped yelling and groaned again, this time in ecstasy. 

“There you go lil bro,” he told me. “Just like riding a bike”. He pulled out some and pushed his way back in. Fuuuuuuck. Fuck he was so god damn big! He pumped, his cock rubbing against my prostate. Each thrust sent electricity coursing through my body and out the tip of my cock. I hadn’t touched it in ages and wanted to pump in unison with him, but too much of me was just holding on to the couch for dear life. His thrust began to increase in speed, with no room in between for rest. 

“Fuck daddy’s gonna cum!” He yelled out, clearly not worried about the noise anymore. He put a hand on each of my shoulder to steady himself. 

“Cum in me dad, cum in me!” I yelled out, my lips free from his grasp. 

“FUCK!” He yelled out, pushing his balls deep against my bare ass. I felt his cock twitch with his pulse as wave after wave of his cum shot deep into my colon. I counted it out, each pulse getting weaker and weaker, before finally all I could feel was my dad’s stomach resting on my back as he caught his breath. He slid out and fell back on the couch, his legs spread, and while now limp, he cock rested beautifully on his thigh. 

I laid on my own back and marveled at him, so gorgeous even just lit by the TV glow. For a second I was worried in his post nut clarity, he would realize what had happened. Instead, I could hear him snoring, somehow already passed out from the exertion. I took the opportunity to finally whip off the jock strap and pump my cock, which had been lathered up in a concoction of my precum and dad’s saliva. 

I felt his cum begin to leak out of my hole, running into the couch. I grabbed a small handful and rubbed it between my fingers. It was thick and a stark white, prime for breeding. Prime for lathering up my cock further and… lathering… That, gave me an idea. Releasing my cock, I stepped to my pants he had discarded on the floor. I fumbled with the pockets until I found it, another vial. 

Inside was the lotion I had made to slip myself into Rob. I was worried it would wear off while I was here, making me be ejected. So, I brought an extra container in case I had to sip back inside. But, what if I went a step further? Both of us were already naked, so I took the opportunity to pour the contents all over Rob’s body, just as I had done in my real body. 

It was a miracle there was enough, as Rob was twice the size as my original body. However, I finally stood in front of my father, silk, lathered up, and ready to experiment. I was just as careful as I was when I took over Rob’s body. Fingering my dad’s hole and enlarging it. Making it able to take one finger, then two, three, until finally my whole hand was inside of him. I think all of the drinking had sedated him, as he wasn’t moving a muscle from all of the activity. 

I pushed further, finding the process to be much more difficult than last time. Previously, I was going from a short, lanky form, barely 150 pounds into a man twice my size. This time, while my father was hardly a small man, had less room available to take in Rob’s body. I worked carefully, pushing both arms inside, before taking a deep breath and plunging my head inside. This sensation was the same at least. Pitch darkness, a tight sensation, the beating of his heart echoing around me. The issue was, Rob’s chest was so fucking massive, I had to really push to get inside. 

I could still feel my feet outside, so I used them to prop myself up and force myself in further. I could only imagine what it looked like out there. The towering form of Rob, chest deep inside of my dad’s hole as he tried to slam his entire body into him. However, with each thrust, I could feel my body being encapsulated by my father. Eventually I found my whole upper body inside, and I worked to stretch myself out. It was like I was trying to slide into a latex suit that was two sizes too small. Every crevice of mine was suppressed and pushed inward. 

It was constricting, my father’s form could barely contain the man who had at least 40 pounds of muscle on him. But surely, I found a way to get both legs inside and curl my feet in too. I felt the hole close and Rob’s body completely be closed in. Having done this once already, I had an idea of what to do next, but the size difference made it all too difficult. I did learn however from last time to adjust my cock first and not cause a panic. With both arms still not in position with my dad’s, I took my cock and slide it into his like a sheath. 

Before I aligned them though, I experimented and pulled back and pushed in again. I did this a few times, feeling like I was fucking the inside of my father. It was too good, but I had to push on, the constriction was getting to me. I aligned both feet and legs, arms, hands, and finally head. I slithered my tongue into my father, and pushed the top of my head into his. With one final force, I pushed my cock into the tip of his and felt the transformation complete.

I opened my eyes and surveyed the room, my head groggy as I felt the alcohol trying to hold me still. The glow of the TV still reflected off the walls, but more noticeable than that was the smell of my father’s musk right next to me. I looked to my left and found his armpit right next to my face. I inhaled deeply, now aware that I was my dad! I liked at his bicep, knowing all the while this tongue just moments ago was worshipping me. I sat up, trying to orientate myself. 

Everything was the exact same, though now I could see just under me was a pool of the lotion and cum which soaked into the seats. I rubbed my dad’s hole, and found that some of his cum was still leaking out from me. I brought it to my face and lapped it up. It was salty, tinged with the potency worthy of breeding. 

I took another scoopful of his, I guess, MY own cum and lathered up my new dick. As I never did actually finish while I was just Rob, I still had a sizable load to get out. I pumped my dad’s cock which had sprung to life once more. I smelled at this pits as I did so, lapping at his biceps and worshipping my new body. 

NSFW version found here

From the excitement of today, it didn’t take long before I could feel the eruption coming. 

“Fuck I”m gonna cum!!” I yelled in my dad’s voice, before finally letting out the build up of cum spray all over me. Despite getting off just earlier today, it was a cascade as I coated chest. The fur absorbing every drop and sinking into my chest. My cock was bright red, pulsing as each drip soared into the air. But it was over all too soon, and I was left with just myself, the smell of cum, musk, and the football announcers quietly speaking. 

I looked down at myself, proud of the mess I had made. Though, I did wonder what this meant. Was I stuck as my father, with Rob gone forever? Would I get ejected as Rob? As myself? The lotion had lasted this long already, I wonder how much longer I had. If it wasn’t long, I wanted to make the most of it. Slowly, I raised myself up and stood, looking to dress myself up. There I found the jockstrap I had Rob wear, still damp. I stepped in and shimmied it up my legs. 

It was cool at this point, and made me shiver, but it was so good to be reunited with it. I rubbed my hands over my body, coaxing the cum further into my hair and admired the nice bulge my dad gave the jockstrap. Maybe if I can keep this up for a bit, I’ll have to have dad pick up some new clothes…Something with leather perhaps. 

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

A bit of a longer story, but hopefully that makes you all enjoy it even further! Would love to hear from all of you as to what you'd like to see more of as I try to get back more into my writing.

Thank you all!

[opal-owl-flight]

Your Protege. (Pt 2)

(Pt 1)

SAME DAY DELIVERY. HERE WE GO.

This is the only time theyve shown such sheer anger in front of anyone. Theyre usually just cold, or disappointed -- never furious.

Its one of the times Neo3 actually feared the captain.

MORE NOTES ABT CUTTLEFISH BELOW

Not over how Cuttlefish is this fuckign loony old man who pushes his ideas on young 3, constantly goinf "yall kids think Im crazy but LOOK WHOS RIGHT FOR ONCE", "I cant fight anymore, thats why I got you!", "Youre hero material, kid! Youre gonna be big!!"

Then raves abt how the Octarians are evil

3, who was desperate for praise from someone who reminds them of their direct relatives, does everything he says to do just to be appreciated more.

Cuttlefish taught them how to fight hand to hand. How to move and think on their feet. (Though they were given similar in their younger years)

Cuttlefish was... generally more warm and supportive than their dad, but yknow. A lot of this started bc 3 agreed to work for him. Be his deadly weapon.

-------

Cuttlefish was more concerned abt the Zapfish than 3s well-being then... He knew that the constant praising was working so hes gonna keep doing it. (...mostly bc thats what worked on HIM back then)

After 3 does his dirty work, he realized he should probably keep the kid around bc his paranoia with Octaria is a damn bitch and this kid is one hell of an ass kicker. They dont mind. Right??

3 never showed any sign of wanting to leave. Why would they, he was so kind to them, more than their dad or grandad ever was. (Also the paranoia rubbed off on them. Oops!)

Then, he asked them to go on a longer patrol with him. Pushed them to their fucking limit. Bc of what?? Octaria making moves again? (Octavio did make moves but they were already, as we say in the game, "too far from the objective to really contribute to the fight". This is why agent 4 was dragged in.)

There, 3 saw more and more that hes just a loony old man who wanted to have a fancy weapon to protect him in his crusade. A crusade they never really questioned, mind you. Theyve no reason to believe Octaria was nice in any way, not when they keep trying to kill them. (...in self defense. They havent realized, yet.)

Then they encounter 8, who had dropped her weapon at the sight of them. Raising her hands in surrender. 3 was far ahead of the coot, and managed to actually talk to her and everything. They were this close to bringing her back to Inkopolis as a friend, until the bastard ruined the moment.

Cuttlefish still told them that she was a danger. It might be a trick! Dont put your guard down! Pressured to follow their superior, 3s mask returns to their face, turning onto 8 with the herl shot ready to fire.

Then they all tumbled into the metro.......

....for Cuttlefish to use yet ANOTHER kid (8) to get him out of a hairy situation.

--------

Hes a crazy old man. Only caring for any of the kids beyond the platoon after they do his dirty work.

Like "mmm! Thank you for committing the war crimes in my stead. Youre a good kid, you know that? Anything I can do to support you further? Mmmm???"

...I dont think hes aware.

Hes not aware that hes harming the entire platoon, bc in his mind hes doing the greater good here. Get some easily manipulable kids on the street, shower em with praise and promises of glory and valor, and theyll do ANYTHING for you.

Including the warcrimes you keep wanting to do.

I think...I think he doesnt know hes manipulating the kids. I think he genuinely believes his own promises. He glamorizes the valor of war bc hes a commander who sits in the back of it. He really believes that this is for the best. He believes that this is how you inspire your troops to fight.

--------

LETS GO THATS ALL MY NOTES I SPENT ALL DAY FINISHING THIS COMIC. GOODNIGHT INKOPOLIS!!!

[calisources]

𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences here were taken from different media about possessive love, the thrill of the chase, banter, and competition regarding one's affection. Some have foul language so please beware but most are fun, banter, possessive fun. All of these are made for roleplay purposes. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I love you. You’re mine. I’ll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me.

I spend a quarter of every day inside you. 

I have never said this to anyone before.

But the idea of you with child is the most insanely arousing thing I’ve ever imagined.

Your belly all swollen, your breasts heavy, the funny little way you would walk … I would worship you. I would take care of your every need. And everyone would know that I’d made you that way, that you belonged to me.

You want to be free. You also want to be mine. You can't be both.

We can't possess one another.

Just because I can't have you right now, doesn't mean I'm okay with him having you.

I will be good to you, Myst. Please, I promise.

You are mine. And I protect what’s mine.

Of course I won't go alone. I shall take my maid.

No.You will take me.

The purpose of a knight is to protect. Why won’t you let him do his job to me?

I want you all to myself.

I can’t explain to you the joy I feel knowing it’s all mine. That you are all mine, that your body is all mine.

There is something in me that wakes up when I want something, a possession.

God knows he deserved you more than I do. 

Listen well, for you belong to me.

Good grief, you’re such an adorably greedy person.

And when you fall in love with her  just keep in mind that she’s mine. 

 She’s more than you could handle, anyway.

That almost sounds like a challenge.

I don’t need your permission to do anything.

Your hands will touch me and no one else, Meadow. That is final.

You chase off every man that’s ever been interested, and you do it without even trying.

You reject every suitor and yet, you keep entertaining me. I believe you want me too, and you are dying to be touched.

I don't own you, you just belong to me.

You’re my gold, your cunt is my liquid gold. 

I will have your mouth, you will give it to me. Then I will have your spirit, Circe. I will own it. Always.

By the gods you have never been more beautiful than you are right now, spread before me, wrapped in my wool.

Once I take you, you are mine. My woman. No other man can have you.

I do not belong to you, or to anyone else. I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want.

Not if it’s some ass who thinks he can put his hands on you.

You didn’t have a problem with me acting like a caveman last night.

When it comes to you… I don’t like to share.

Most men prefer to do the eating.

Do you know what passion is?

Most people think it only means desire. Arousal. Wild abandon. But that’s not all. The word derives from the Latin. It means suffering. Submission. Pain and pleasure, Nikki. Passion.

You’re wearing my colors, love.

I’m going to put you on your knees, Ruby. You’re going to hate how much you love it.

He is my king, he is my warrior, he is my husband and I am proud to say above all… he is mine.

You have rare beauty the like I have never seen but you will be more beautiful heavy with my seed.

You are my golden queen. You are my tigress. You are my Circe. 

Never will I allow your gold to be taken from me. Never. Understand this, Circe, and never forget.

Maybe I fell in love with a version of him that didn't exist.

 I would have you right here if you would let me. Fear you? I exalt you. 

You could burn me a thousand times, and I would still want you for my own.

Everything has a price. The price, however, isn't always money.

You’re my scariest hell, You’re my perfect paradise.

Well, I admit my crib is pretty sweet. But a gold cage is still a cage, Harry.

I intend to the last. 

If I win, then you shall be mine. Tonight.

You are so sure of yourself.

The game is simple. The women run, the men chase. If you catch the one with your color. . .well, that’s up to you.

But women have been running all their lives, most men don’t catch that easily.

We are in a maze, lost, and your hand is up my skirt.

Aye, but I don’t hear any complaints. The maze will hide our secret.

[slimepuparibaba]

LnDS HCs: Sylus (General HCs)

HI! I HAVE TOO MANY HEADCANONS FOR SYLUS SO PLEASE TAKE THEM!! THEY WILL DEFO NOT BE ACCURATE COME JULY BUT STILL IM USING WHAT SCRAPS OF INFO I HAVE RN AND IF HE TURNS OUT LIKE THIS APOLLO GAVE ME THE GIFT OF PROPHECY

IF THIS IS INACCURATE I WILL COMMIT CHAPTER 4 OKOK

GENERAL HC DUMP / PREDICTIONS (MAYBE DONT COUNT ON IT)

Okay, we all agree he comes off as the type of guy that would burn the world for you.

BUT!

Big but here.

I don't think he's a terrible boyfriend or anything. In fact, he genuinely does love you.

I believe, me personally, you are the one weakness this man has and he will treat you with care. Is the way he treats you rough around the edges and comes off a little different than most? Yes.

But he won't ever actually hurt you. He watches you from afar like a silent protector to make sure you aren't hurt, even using his Evol to make sure you STAY alive.

I personally think he might actually treat you kinda like one of his men, like an equal in terms of "you can definitely handle yourself and I know you're strong", but he'll still keep an eye on you just because you're that important to him. He trusts you.

...okay, so like, maybe not completely trust you because let's be honest here, you're kiiiinda prone to trying dumb shit on him, but it's funny. He'll forgive it. The smug bastard.

From what I've seen, he comes off cool, suave, knows what he's doing. Cocky.

Bad boy. He's a bad boy in all sense of the word.

He knows what he's doing, he's confident, he's charming. Knows what to say and do. He's also a CEO so dealing with people? Basically easy for him.

When it comes to you? He will flirt. Because he likes getting a reaction out of you.

I bet he teases you a TON. You hate him? Good. At least you have him in your thoughts.

Love is war with him. You try to scheme? He already has a counter. Man is 100 steps ahead of you, but just likes seeing you make a complete fool of yourself.

You know when he gets the upper hand he'll have that signature smirk of his that just screams "kiss me to shut me up and I'll consider this your win".

You thought Rafayel had an ego? Nah. NAH, THIS DUDE HAS AN E G O.

Sparring sessions with him are very likely. He'd probably be like "alright, but not going easy on you" or something cocky like that with a smug smirk on his face.

Man genuinely treats you as his equal though when training. Teaches you everything he knows and points out some techniques you might be rusty on.

Rizz is off the charts. He's lived in the N109 Zone and breathed it for so long. He's a sweet talker, so be prepared for him to know how to make you melt.

But also, he will actually spoil you. Will he make you work for it? Yes. He will give you an entire runaround (make you say please, make you verbalize it, etc), but he does it because he loves you.

You are genuinely his soft spot, and I CANNOT stress this enough.

The things he does in the dark are things he does FOR YOU. His reason for being REVOLVES around you, you just don't know it yet. Don't let him being the leader of Onichynus get to your head—he has method to his madness.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi, I really liked it and I thought the maidenless board game club headcanons were really fun, I don't know if you've done it for any other club, but if not, I'd like to ask if you could do it for the basketball club if it were possible, it's the club that has some of my favorite characters and I would really like to read :)

[Maidenless Board Game Club headcanons here!]

asdyugagsodoefa Thank you, I'm glad you liked those original headcanons 😅 That post is actually a bunch of ideas I cooked up while talking with a friend. We also talk about the Basketball Club a lot, so here's a compilation of those too. It should be noted that I do not intend to complete this prompt for all of the characters; I'm only posting the Basketball Club content because I happen to have them on hand. Any and all mentions of the reader are meant to be gender neutral; gendered terms may still appear in these headcanons, but never in reference to the reader.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Ace tries to claim his stake as the "cool guy" of the team by bragging about his ex to the older players + acting like some dating god and advice dispenser. They seem none too impressed by him, with some of them (including Floyd) dunking on him for being ganged up on and scolded by a bunch of girls.

He swears to his club mates he can bag someone, he just thinks dating’s way too much trouble so he’s fine by himself, thank you very much! It’s Ace obviously scrambling to salvage his pride and reputation among his peers. (No one believes him.)

During the move-in week to NRC, Ace was out in Foothill Town to buy school supplies. He saw Jamil in casual wear and mistook him as a mature onee-san so he catcalled him. Ace rambled on for a while before Jamil cut him off by informing him that he is a man. This shocked and embarrassed Ace so much that he shut up and scurried away, thankful that the chances of running into Jamil again are slim... until he sees the exact same guy at the Basketball Team tryouts.

Ace has too much pride to back out now, but he also deeply fears that Jamil will obliterate him by sharing their first interaction with the team. Whenever Jamil smirks, Ace gets a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach and dreads what Jamil will say next. It could be the end of his social life at school! (It’s dangled over Ace’s head as collateral to get him to behave; if Ace acts out, Jamil will start to tell the story as a warning.)

If Ace spots a cute spectator at their games, he’ll wink at them, then call out and dedicate his next shot to them. (Bro proceeds to completely whiff the throw; the ball bounces off the rim of the hoop.)

He feels insecure about his masculinity, especially when put next to his senpai who get a lot more attention than he does. Ace tries to mooch off their popularity by claiming he’s a lot closer to them than he actually is or by playing up the role of being “the cute one”, only to be humiliated by Floyd or Jamil’s jeers. “Mmm? Isn’t Crabby the one who called me ‘the worst’ the other day?” / “… ‘Cute’? You? Don’t make me laugh. You’re anything but.”)

Attracts a decent amount of romantic attention (which Ace loudly complains about) but never commits to actively pursuing any relationship in the long term. No one seems to hold his interest long enough--and besides, Floyd's not lookin' to be tied down.

When asked “why do you like them?” or “why are you with them?” Floyd usually responds with a shrug or an answer that’s not too well thought out like, “Uh, cuz they told me they were into me?” or, “I dunno, just felt like it today.”

Frequently pisses potential partners off due to his attitude. Floyd can be fun but he flakes very often, saying he’ll be there one day and then cancelling like an hour before the date. He’s never consistent with anything, and that tests patiences.

Also commits the sin of ghosting people once he loses interest or he feels they’re being too needy. Ace calls him a bastard for that, but Floyd shoots back by reminding Ace he did this to HIS ex too.

There was an incident in which his S/O of like... one weekend's worth of time saw Jade in public and approached him, thinking it was Floyd. Jade did not recognize them but played along just to have fun. The S/O was so offended they stormed off and broke up with Floyd via text. He wasn't bothered at all; he and Jade shared a laugh about it. ("You're equally awful," Jamil had chided them.)

Casually and shamelessly talks about his escapades. Doesn’t care to be tactful with his wording, lays it all out there. Ace is super invested in the gossip whereas Jamil makes it clear he’s disgusted by this use of their club time.

Single because he is legitimately way too busy with school, caring for Kalim, etc. to even entertain the idea of a relationship. Doesn’t need that extra stress right now.

Najma calls him “forever alone” to her friends and jokingly acts all disgusted whenever he acts slightly shy or affectionate towards someone. “Oh my gosh, Jamil…! Are you crushing on them?!” she teases him. “Wow, I never thought I’d see the day where you’d be all lovey-dovey…” Since that first incident, Jamil had vowed to himself to never allow his sister see him in such a vulnerable state.

Due to his flat voice and placid face, Jamil is aware he can come off as cold or disinterested. He makes sure to smile a little and to brighten up his tone when speaking with someone he wants to make a good first impression with--but he's also careful never to get too close, to be too familiar. He must keep polite and professional at all times, lest he bring shame upon his name--or the Asims' name.

Jamil has somehow settled into the position of the "team mom" (not by choice, but due to necessity; who else is going to round up all these idiots?). He's the one bringing snacks, reminding the team to behave and to stay hydrated, tending to injuries with his first aid kit, etc. Ace sometimes makes fun of this and claims "no one wants a second parent for a boyfriend", to which Jamil just rolls his eyes and tells him to stop acting so childish.

The only one with some god damn common sense around here. Jamil listens to the callous way Floyd and Ace treated their exes and shakes his head, sighs, and tells them off. In his head, he talks himself up and claims he isn't so stupid as to make the same mistakes that they did if he were in their shoes. (... Yes, Jamil Viper is his OWN hype man for hypothetical romantic situations 😭)

HE’S SO REPRESSED, HOLY SHIT. Since he can’t feasibly go out and seek a relationship, Jamil settles for daydreams of a peaceful domestic life, traveling Twisted Wonderland together, and other adventures. He’d rather die than share any of these fantasies with his peers.

[mymoshangthoughts]

the thing about my mobei jun hcs are that i believe two things are equally true

mobei jun is helplessly in love with (airplane) shang qinghua and would do literally anything for him, finds him charming, wants to spend the rest of his life with him, would simp 100%, very in love

mobei jun absolutely hates that sniveling motherfucking stupid piece of dumb shit (airplane) shang qinghua and spends many days thinking about how nice it would be to pop off his stupid little head so that he'd stop with all the fucking bullshit and also, fuck that guy

like i think he finds pathetic crybaby airplane to be the cutest thing ever. and he simultaneously thinks he's the most obnoxious bastard ever.

to be fair, i think most of his hate comes solely from the fact that:

airplane is clearly lying to him, has been clearly lying to him, their whole fucking relationship is basically a lie from day 1 and getting him to say anything sincere is like pulling teeth

airplane is not his type. oki bear with me, i know that i SAY two-faced crybabies are his type and thats because THEY ARE. but its like, he doesnt REALIZE that's his type and it's also the type he hates. highkey, this man has 'uncle issues' and realizing that his type is lowkey similar to his uncle is a reality that he is NOT ready to cope with. so he very much THINKS thats the type of person he hates most, even tho he's weak to it

airplane is NOT RESPONDING APPROPRIATELY TO ANY OF HIS COURTING ATTEMPTS, NOT EVEN GIVING AN APPROPRIATE REJECTION. IT IS MADDENING. try being strung along for many years with someone who keeps kinda giving you HOPE they miiigggghhhttt like you back, but then they rescind it just as quickly. over and over and over until you kinda hate them a little bit

i just love the contradiction of mobei jun being very ready to be a devoted and loving partner while also being very ready and happy to punt shang qinghua into a death-cave, oki? like he's been strung along for WAY TOO LONG not to have some hang ups about his shitty not-boyfriend

in other words, our beloved ice demon king is a motherfucking tsundere. to his very core, this trsundere is dying at all times because he simultaneously loves and hates the object of his affection and feels deeply embarrassed by his own feelings and equally shameless about them. mobei jun is pretty much ready at all times to completely deny any affection ever held for shang qinghua with a cold passion AND to shamelessly announce that this is his consort, his husband, the owner of his heart, and the only one he ever wants near him and the person he cares for most in this world

our precious tsundere king is sliiiggghhttly just trying to guard his heart from breaking because shang qinghua basically sends him every single mixed message in the world and LOOK IT MAKES HIM A LOT INSANE

when he tastes even a whiff of rejection from shang qinghua, mobei jun is ready to close himself off and haughtily sniff "i never liked that human anyway, fuck off. im not crying at all". at the slightest indication that shang qinghua returns his affections, he's ready to throw away almost all of his pride and cling to him desperately

i love him so much. mobei jun is so fucking silly and i love it. he absolutely is mad at shang qinghua and holds a grudge against him (for various reasons). but he's also so down bad for shang qinghua that it's a bit sad lmfaooo

expanding upon my previous thoughts of "shang qinghua totally tricking mobei jun into marrying him without his knowledge", i'd just like to say that i think it's a particularly amazing thought with regards to mobei jun's Very Conflicted Heart in mind

like he's split in equal parts "omg omg omg im his!? he's mine?! WE'RE MARRIED?!?!?! HE LOVES ME?!!? HEAD EMPTY, NEED QINGHUA, WHERE QINGHUA, MUST QINGHUA, LOVE QINGHUA, AHHHHHHHHH, NEED HUSBAND NOW" and ".........im going to kill him. im going to skin him alive. im going to roast him over one of those fires he loves so fucking much and eat his organs in front of him while he pleads for his life. THAT MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT I CANNOT BELIEVE HIM IM GONNA--"

[livelaughlovesubs]

How do you think househusband Fyodor would act like? Bc I feel like he’d act similar to a traditional housewife that goes to church every Sunday but is actually a total freak in the sheets almost every night (only almost everyday bc his amnesic body can keep up with his needs😞)

Ik I have a problem but what about him also having a breeding kink?👀 like he subtly hints at it after talking to a couple at church who had recently got the news that they’re expecting. Fyodor later acts pouty and starts suggesting baby names, pointing out cute children clothes when shopping, mumbles about he wished that god would bless us with a child.

(I love Fyofyo, especially if he’s a whiny horny bastard <33)

-🍮 anon

Omg wait… fyodor as a househusband/ traditional wife would be so ahhhhh

Dom!reader x sub!fyodor

He cooks, he cleans, he stays home to take care of the chores and is obedient. He believes that he has to submit to you all the time. Cuz that’s what he got himself into the moment he decided he’ll be your male wife.

Would get on his knees when you come home to greet you. Then help take off your jacket and ask what you’d like to do. Eat first or wash up? Or maybe.. something else?

Sometimes you’d encourage him to go out more, but he said he won’t do it unless it’s with you. A married man shouldn’t go out alone, without their partner.

Wears very conservative clothes, doesn’t show skin, but secretly wears lingers underneath it. It’s preparations for when you want to do it, he has to please you after all.

He’d let you do him anywhere. On the couch, balcony, over the kitchen counter, in the confession rooms of the church or in some suspicious looking alleys

Was never into sex before, until getting married with you. Since then he is so drunk on getting filled and stretched and manhandled and-

He thinks he is a great house husband, which he is, but not perfect enough. A stay at home wife usually takes care of a kid too, so you two doesn’t have one yet…

Despite him knowing he can’t get pregnant, he really wished it was possible!! Praying to his dear lord every Sunday to please bless him with a baby.

During intimacy, when he’s been going at it too long and his brain has been turned into mush, he might start revealing those thoughts

Begging you stay inside him, not wanting to let you pull out. Saying some pretty lewd things like:

“Please breed me.,mhhHmm, ah- I-i want to have your fir-first bornnHgh..!”

Probably would allow you to see other man too, cuz all he has to do it serve you and love you

It is a pretty suffocating lifestyle, that’s what you think. Which is why you never cheat or anything, you try to get him to change his mindset but he’s very stubborn about it

[yanderefarm]

Ok there's vampire ares, but what about vampire or even pet Achilles, sadistic vampire reader who holds very popular "parties" where all the guests drink, have sex, and watch reader torture humans and vampires alike, maybe even add a casino element with people placing bets on who will scream loudest, last the longest without passing out, etc

cw;; blood drinking, blood, dehumanization, torture, needles, drugs

i was possessed to write this. i love this whole concept so much.

some vampires are kind to humans, they remember their own humanity and treat humans with care like domestic animals. some vampires have either forgotten or abandoned their original humanity in favour of making the weak suffer. and with modern technologies it's easier to push these humans to the absolute breaking point.

you're not so cruel as to hate humans, they make you money and entertain you after all, but you do enjoy hearing a human's will break. that's why you have your nightclub, an underground place where deranged perverts go to torture humans. human pets who were abandoned, human uprising activists, a greedy blood bank employee, a misbehaving human cattle, anything you wanted could be found right here. it was a demon's slice of heaven and the humans pit of hell.

you were enjoying the screams of the damned from your vip seat, blood wine in hand and two of the most sadistic female vampires you knew on your arms. they knew staying near you would mean they got a taste of the best humans to break. one of your usual suppliers approached your seat with 3 humans following behind him. two of them were clearly pets, numbers written on their faces to signify lot numbers, while the third and most beautiful wasn't marked or scarred he looked out of place.

"this was their last day on the auction. no one wants em so-"

"what about him."

the other vampire looks back at the pretty boy and sighs.

"he's a return. his owner complained he doesn't talk, doesn't scream, doesn't even get afraid."

your eyebrow raised in curiosity. you took his chain from the man, yanking the beautiful man closer to you.

"what's your name?"

"i told you he doesn't talk, sir. dunno how mu-"

"achilles."

his pretty voice was like honey. your supplier looked at him shocked while a smirk crossed your lips. you sat up fully intrigued by your new beautiful guest.

"achilles~ how come you're here and not being pampered and adored by one of the nice guys?"

"because I'm too beautiful to waste on them."

you laughed at that, the other vampires sheepishly joining in. as your laughter died you pulled him down to your level by his chain. your cold fingers gently brushed some of his pretty red curls out of his face.

"is that what the one who abandoned you said? or do you really believe it?"

it was amusing how naturally his stoic face leaned into your gentle touch.

"he told me that. he also said beautiful things, like me, look best when we're screaming and crying."

as if to punctuate his cold delivery you could hear a harsh thwack followed by a human's sobbing screams. you ran your thumb over his soft skin down to his pretty lips.

"that's why you didn't scream for him right? wouldn't make a noise, wouldn't cry. no, not you. you won't let these sick vampire bastards win. am i close?"

"i need to get home to my family. nothing he did to me was so unbearable that i couldn't endure for them."

your sadistic smirk turned to a genuine smile as you looked him over.

"... I'll make you a deal. you show me your worth and I'll protect your family."

he remained quiet contemplating it for a minute.

"if my worth is screaming and being in pain i don't know how well i can preform."

you let out a huff in amusement.

"don't worry I'll take care of your suffering if you agree to this."

"i would like to talk more about the terms but i just have to prove to you i have some value? is that correct?"

"that's correct."

"will any value be sufficient even if it's not what you're picturing?"

"hmmm... yes. even if your only value is your blood or your good looks. i still hope you'll endeavor to show me more than that, though."

"so i succeed by simply agreeing. you just hope to motivate me to be pushed to the edge?"

"yes. that's right. so, do you agree?"

"i agree."

you paid the supplier for all three of them, leaving the lesser two to the female vampires by your side. they both went about feeding on their new toys first while you sat achilles in your lap.

after a short while of just sitting there a waiter came up to you with a silver platter. in the middle of the platter was a syringe filled with a hot pink liquid. achilles eyed it, clearly intimidated by the sight but there was nothing he could do to stop you from picking it up. your other hand grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing his lips to purse.

"open."

he hesitated before he opened his mouth.

"tongue out."

his pretty wet tongue slipped out of his mouth giving him a slutty look there in your hands. pretty boy. you released his jaw but he kept his mouth open like a good boy. you tapped the syringe twice before bringing the sharp tip to his outstretched tongue. you didn't hesitate even as he flinched, plunging the whole thing into his tongue.

one of the girls looked at you both with wide eyes. "the whole thing??"

you gently removed the needle and placed it back on the silver platter, dismissing the waiter.

"what was it...?"

"if he's going to be amusing he'll need the whole thing. now get up and strip."

achilles hesitated again, his body actually frozen as he stood there brow furrowed. you let out a heavy sigh and began to unbutton his shirt.

"what... was it...?"

"it was something that will make you feel good. it makes your whole body sensitive."

you pulled his shirt down over his shoulders and discarded it to the side.

"is it dangerous to use all of it..."

"no. it'll just hit you really hard. it's ok, I'll take care of you but you do need to do exactly as I say. now take your pants off."

he stood up doing as you ordered with his cold face. he went to sit in your lap again but instead you lead him to the side of the couch and told him to stand there with his hands behind his back. he could feel everyone in the club staring at his naked body and you noticed his soft cock twitch slightly. you smirked before giving him a quick kiss and returning to your seat.

it took about 20 minutes before you finally heard a sound from achilles. you'd just been sharing one of the other pets, indulging in the free blood, when you heard the softest sluttiest whimper you've ever heard. you looked over to see your forgotten game with his entire body flushed and his cock stiff and leaking. he was clearly trying to stand still but even the slightest bit of breeze made him squirm and flinch. your eyes widened and your hunger that had been successfully satisfied so far tonight was like a fresh tidal wave. you needed to sink your fangs into him. you needed him screaming.

you got up abandoning everything too transfixed on your pretty toy to care. your breath was hitched when you reached inches from his wanting body, your fingers hovered over his skin. he looked over at you his stoic face now red and his eyes had hearts in them. he was like a masterpiece of want and desire you didn't even want to touch him for fear of ruining his perfect body. you hesitantly ran your fingers over his soft pink lips and a sultry moan flowed from his lips like honey.

everyone in the club was staring at you both now. everyone wanted this pretty piece of ass. you felt an odd twinge of jealousy and possessiveness strike. you pulled your hand away from your toy's lips instead grabbing his wrist roughly. god he let out another slutty moan. you couldn't stand that everyone could hear him. you started dragging him forcefully to your private room. as you did you noticed his feet struggling to keep up with your quick steps. you surprised yourself when you slowed down and matched his pace.

god you were already whipped for this pretty human.

as soon as you were in the private room you shoved him into the door, your mouth swallowing his slutty moans with a passionate kiss. his whole sensitive body twitched and jerked as his cock spilled cum onto his stomach. fuck. you pulled away to look at his mess leaving him gasping for air. he looked down as he tried to compose himself and the sight of his stomach covered in cum made him whimper. fuck.

you slammed your hand over his mouth hitting his head against the door.

"you're gonna fucking scream."

[pastorpresent]

Part 2 to this, as an apology, except as with everything I write, it gets worse before it gets better lmaooo

-

Things had been tense between them, since that night. So tense that Wade had taken to making up a makeshift bed on the floor, and that was about the only time Logan even saw the mercenary.

During the day, their paths rarely crossed.

Mary Puppins was loving it. Their lack of communication meant that Logan was fairly certain she was ending up with double the food and double the walks.

Al was sick of both their shit, and had made sure to let them both know several times. The phrase 'emotionally constipated dick for brains assholes' sprung to mind.

Logan knew it wasn't functional, but then again he was barely functional these days. If he wasn't too drunk to be conscious, he was chain smoking on the couch watching shitty reality tv, trying in vain to conjure up Wade esque commentary alongside it in his head (and wasn't that fucking crazy, to miss the idiots ramblings) and pretend that the arms he wrapped around himself belonged to somebody else.

He'd looked at other apartments, but he couldn't afford the rent, and there was still something tethering him here. Maybe he was clinging onto something long gone, but maybe it was salvageable. He needed to believe that, because he'd never had anything worth clinging too since his old team, and that had been a long time ago.

So he couldn't bring himself to leave. Because even if him and Wade only saw each other in passing for what was likely a grand total of thirty seconds a day, he needed those thirty seconds.

He was fine. It was fine.

Well, that is until one afternoon when he'd arrived home from a grocery run.

When he'd opened the door, he was surprised to see Wade's shoes on the rack. He had been at work when Logan had left, and normally he was there until at least five.

He very almost called out for the man, but decided against it. Whatever reason it was, Logan was certain it was none of his buisness.

He headed to the kitchen, noting their shut bedroom door, which also wasn't all that uncommon these days. Wade spent most his time locked away in there, likely in an effort to avoid him.

There was something niggling at him, though. An anxiety he wasn't used to feeling, because he wasn't used to caring about people enough to agonise over their wellbeing. It had been too long, and so the feeling felt unfamiliar and wrong, and it compounded onto everything else that was unfamiliar and wrong in his body.

He was about ready to buckle under the weight of it.

What if Wade had left work early because he'd been hurt? What if someone had come for him for whatever reason? What if he was sick? Could he get sick? What if he-

The carton of milk he'd picked up to put away burst under the strength of his grip, getting all over him and the floor.

Fuck it. Fuck all of it. He'd just check quickly to make sure the bastard was okay, and it would mean absolutely nothing, and then he could go back to putting the groceries away and not destroying half of them in the process. He was only checking on him because he couldn't afford to replace more food, basically, which was a completely normal thing to do. Obviously.

He goes to their room and flings the door open.

Wade is fine. He's... he's more than fine, probably, Logan thinks vaguely as he stares at the scene in front of him.

He'd not seen Vanessa's shoes at the door. Had they been there? Maybe he'd missed them. Maybe he'd been too focused on Wade's. He should go check.

"Logan-!"

He shut the door. Because it was the right thing to do when two people were fucking, and despite the general concencess - he was polite. Not because he couldn't look at them without wanting to scream and break shit and throw up.

It's a blur, leaving the apartment. He almost slips on the puddle of milk dogpool is currently lapping up, and he hopes Wade has the sense after... after he's done to mop it up so Al doesn't slip.

Wade, cleaning up his fucking mess. Again. Ironic that that's exactly how this whatever-the-fuck between them is going to end.

He shoves his shoes on, skips out on a jacket because he needs to be out of here now, because the air is too thin and he's going to fucking suffocate, regenerative powers be damned. This is what dying feels like, actual dying, and he's certain of it.

His skin is burning. So are his eyes.

He doesn't take a key. Doesn't need to be back. He's never coming back in again, he's sure of it.

What the fuck was he thinking, staying here? Bombarding into Wade's life like a piece of a puzzle that doesn't fit properly, leaving gaps around him and fucking the whole thing up.

He's wrong. He doesn't fit here, because he's from another puzzle entirely, and he should never of left his box. Maybe that's why everything was so fucked. His body knew on a level that his brain refused to acknowledge yet that he didn't belong in this world. He didn't belong with Wade, even if it's the safest he'd felt in years.

He's sobbing and probably completely incoherent by the time he stumbles into the nearest TVA post, but they don't question his state or why he makes his request. They just do it.

//

"Logan-!"

Wade pushes Vanessa away from him rather than making a grab for the covers, which says more than he'd care to analyse at the minute.

Logan doesn't say anything, which is the worst outcome. Wade wants to be cussed out. Have a liquor bottle thrown at his head. Anything, dealers choice!

But not the crestfallen expression as he quickly shuts the door. As if Wade's exclamation had been from aggravation at being interrupted, rather than a place of genuine oh fuck no.

It's his own fault, and he needs to fix it now.

"Wade, where are you going?" Vanessa asks, her frustrations thinly veiled as he scrambles off the bed and tries to find his clothes.

"Logan- he... I need to make sure he's okay," Wade explains in a rushed sort of garble, and where the fuck did he throw his shirt?! He wanted to punch his horny self in the face for not neatly folding his clothes atop of the nightstand.

"He's 200, and didn't he live in a mansion with a bunch of teenagers? I'm sure it's not the first time he's walked in on people having sex," Vanessa deadpanned, and Wade wanted to shout at her that she didn't get it, but that wouldn't be remotely fair.

How could he expect her to know anything about the thing him and Logan had failed to even discuss themselves? Especially... especially when he'd called her for this exact purpose.

He'd been having an awful day at work. Beyond shit. He'd been spoken to like an idiot by some asshole who only seemed to come to car dealerships to flaunt his knowledge of each vehicle for an hour straight. His manager had screamed at him for an hour over a two dollar till discrepancy, and he'd learnt they were taking away two lots of commission from him due to his name not being 'cohesive' enough on the paperwork.

That, on top of how royally he'd fucked up things with Logan by pushing him too far too quickly, and he just needed to feel like he could do something right, and experience a few minutes of sweet post orgasm bliss.

He'd called Vanessa, been pretty fucking transparent about his intentions of it as a one time hookup, clocked out early under the guise of not feeling great and met her at the apartment.

Logan was out on the grocery run, which normally meant he'd be out a couple of hours.

He wasn't meant to come back earlier. He wasn't meant to open the door.

Because Wade knew how it looked, he did. It looked like he'd given up on... whatever the hell they'd been building, because it had gotten messy and he just wanted to get his dick wet.

And he'd done some real fucked up things in his life, but if Logan thought that was remotely true, even for the five minutes it would take Wade to find him and correct it, that was going up there with the very worst.

"I need to find him, 'Ness. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, I just..." he couldn't say it, because he was an emotionally stunted child, and he needed to apologise to her properly too, for dragging her into this - but his brain was going too fast for his mouth and he was left without the ability to say any of it.

"Wade," she interrupted quietly, pulling on her own shirt and coming over to him with his own dangling from a finger, "it's okay, alright? I'm not blind, I know he means a lot to you. I just wish you two assholes would figure it out," she smiled softly, and Wade frowned.

"I- I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called," he murmured, and she shrugged, kissing his cheek and pushing the shirt against his chest, "eh, one last hurrah was needed before you settle down with that one. Pretty sure you'll never be single again, Wilson. Or will it be Howlett?"

Wade let out a surprised sound, choking on air momentarily while she laughed at him.

He pulled on the shirt, giving her one last small smile before rushing out the room.

//

He'd been searching for days. He'd went into every bar in a ten mile radius of their apartment, had spent an entire weeks wage on cabs just driving the streets. Looking for literally any sign of him.

None.

He was fucking desperate. His calls went straight to voicemail, and he even got fucking missing person posters made (he was too depressed to even photoshop kitty ears onto the photo he used which, come on).

He wasn't sleeping. The idea of never seeing Logan ever again all because he was too much of a pussy to talk to him? It killed any sembelence of appetite he had, and any hope at settling enough to sleep.

The TVA was his very last avenue of hope. They could see everything, so they'd have to be able to find Logan.

He hadn't even bothered to put on his suit, and the agents looked thoroughly confused when he entered, not used to seeing him without it.

It was hung up in the closet right next to Logans. Taking it away from the untouched yellow felt too much like an omen for Wade to proceed with, if he was being fully honest with himself.

"I need your help," he said, feeling the eyes move with him as he strode across the room up to the lead agent. He didn't know his name, and didn't frankly care to either.

The guy frowned, "Wade Wilson, right?"

"Can you locate people? Get a general whereabouts for them? My friend is... missing," he interrupted, cutting right to the chase. He didn't have time for pleasantries, and God knows he didn't have the temperament as of right now.

"Ah," the guy hummed, "you're looking for Logan. Well I regret to inform you, Mr Wilson, but he requested that information remain quiet-"

Wade might not of packed any weapons, but he tended to thrive with improvisation, which was how he ended up with the fucker pinned against the console, a pen inches from his eye.

"My friend was feeling a smidge unstable, so you'll have to forgive him for making you make promises you can't keep however," he pushed down an arm against the guys neck, who choked beneathe it, "I'm substantially more unstable, and unless you tell me where the hell he is right now, I'm going to ram this pen so deep into your skull it pops out the other side, then I'm going to make you use it to write down his exact coordinates. Understood?"

And maybe it was overkill. Just slightly, because the guy just seemed remarkably harmless, but there was no way Wade was leaving here without knowing the exact address of whatever bar Logan had opted to drink himself to death in.

The guy nodded frantically, raising his arms in surrender.

"He- he's returned to his own timeline, I'm afraid."

Wade stumbled backwards.

No. He must've heard wrong, because Logan wouldn't of done that. Couldn't of left forever, not when... not when they hadn't fixed things.

"I am sorry, Mr Wilson. But Logan was very clear that he wanted to return to his home-"

"I'm his fucking home!" Wade screamed before he could reign in the building anger, tears burning in his eyes, "this is his goddamn home, you fuck. Our- our beds here, and our apartment, and our dog and... and me, so you're going to give me your stupid time jumping thing and let me go bring him back to his actual home," he seethed, his chest heaving as he glared at the man.

"I can't just give you my tempad. You've already proved yourself dangerous to other timelines previously-"

Wade laughed, and laughed, until the guy gave a nervous chuckle himself, forcing a smile, and then Wade grabbed him by his neck and tossed him onto the ground, grabbing his tie as he did in order to choke him before crouching down and getting uncomfortably close.

"You think you've seen me be dangerous? What I'm going to do to you if you don't give me what I want will make all of my past actions look like a kitten riding a fucking unicorn over cotton candy clouds in order to go to an ice cream parlour," Wade threatened, and he meant every word.

He pitied the stupid asshole who kept him away from his Logan. Fucking idiot. And it was so fucking stupid, because Logan probably didn't want anything to do with him anymore. I mean, could there be a clearer message that quite literally hopping timelines to get away from somebody?

But it couldn't end like this. He wouldn't let it. It couldn't end with them barely speaking, two ghosts sharing an apartment. It couldn't end with Logan believing what they'd had for so many months, and what they very almost had that night a few weeks ago, meant nothing to him.

The fact was - it was the thing that meant the fucking most.

He loved Logan Howlett, and something about that thought, hitting him with such clarity as he threatened to murder a man, made everything make so much more sense.

He needed to see Logan. Now.

Maybe the guy could see the emotion in his face and pitied him. Maybe the universe was rewarding him for conjuring up genuine emotion and acting on it. Maybe the guy just didn't want to be decapitated.

Either way, Wade ended up with tempad in hand. Logistics and reasons were no longer relevant.

"Thanks, sweetness. See ya soon!"

He pressed the button, dissapearing from the room and leaving behind a dozen horrified employees.

//

The first time he'd been to Logan's timeline, he hadn't exactly seen much. He spawned into the bar practically atop of him, and he'd dragged his unconscious body through the portal back to his own world in that same bar.

He wasn't exactly wanting a full tour regardless. From what Logan had divulged after too much alcohol and the safety of their bedroom walls, his world was very anti-mutant.

Logan insisted a lot of it was down to him, but Wade believed people fucking sucked, and if they wanted to hate something, they didn't waste time looking for a reason to do it.

When he stepped through the doorway, it was into a dark street.

He didn't recognise where he was, and he could only hope he was somewhere close to Logan.

He glanced around, but nothing really caught his eye, until he noticed a shrouded alleyway, with a metal door.

It didn't seem to be attached to any store front, and Wade figured it probably fit the description of shady ass bar slash potential strip club enough for Logan to be inside.

He knocked. A burly guy opened the door, and glared at him, "fuck off, your kind isn't welcome here you fuckin' freak," he spat, about to slam the door, but Wade stopped him.

He wanted to break the guys face, lecture him on acceptance while pummeling him into the concrete, but there was a sinking feeling in his stomach that was nagging at him to get inside, and to do that he'd have to play it smart.

"You think I'm one of those mutant freaks? Fuck no. Sick bastards. This? Is from a warehouse fire," he gestured to his face, and the guy looked immediately apologetic.

"My bad man, my bad. Can never be too careful, y'know? Thought we'd almost eradicated the fuckers, and then one turns up at the door a few days ago. Luckily for him, we were needing some entertainment around here since the last catch kicked the bucket," the guy smirked.

Wade had to swallow down bile.

"That's what I'm here for," he replied, unable to really formulated anything else around the suffocating fear filling his lungs. It wasn't an emotion he was used to feeling, but the idea of Logan being used as 'entertainment' in this place was enough for the blood in his veins to freeze up with it.

"Come on in then, man. Just down the stairs, to your right," he stepped aside, and Wade quickly pushed inside, following the directions.

The hallways grew dimmer as he went, lights flickering and buzzing, and then... cheering.

The fuck was this place?

Posters spewing death to mutant slogans were littering the walls, and Wade forced himself to keep moving, hoping and praying that Logan wasn't in this twisted fucking place. That he'd gotten it wrong, and the brunette was in some slightly less terrifying place drinking away his emotions.

He rounded the corner, pushing open the double doors, and the cheering grew into a roar as he entered a room full of bodies, people herded in a circle surrounding a cage.

A cage, which Logan was currently in.

Wade pushed his way to the front, getting drinks spilt down him as he shoulder checked men double his size. He stumbled forwards like a moth to a flame, eyes wide, grabbing the bars and staring at the man he loved in utter horror.

Logan was chained to the bars in thick metal cuffs, and he had a collar strapped around his neck that Wade was far too familiar with. He was on his knees, slumped forward, bleeding from wounds Wade couldn't see properly. He was stripped down to a pair of dirtied boxers, breathing heavily, muscles pulling from obvious pain.

"Twenty dollar entry, and you can do whatever the fuck you want to him, folks! A genuine, dirty fucking mutant - and not just any, either - The Wolverine himself!" The crowd erupted in yelling and boos, the stench of alcohol overwhelming as men pushed into him from behind, trying to get a better view.

Look at me, baby. Look up. I'm here, I'm going to get you out. I'm so sorry.

Wade wished that Logan could hear his thoughts. He wished so badly he could just tell him it was going to be alright.

He started trying to move his way to the door of the prison where the presenter freak was, pay his dues. If he could just get in there, he could open up a door back to their timeline and pull Logan through. Easy.

Someone beat him to it.

"Alright, get ready for the show, folks!"

The door opened, and unless you were really searching (Wade was, because he's always searching Logan's expression, always wanting to know how the other was feeling) you wouldn't notice the slight flinch Logan did when he heard the sound.

Wade watched with baited breath as the sick fuckface approached. His fingers itched for his gun, so he could empty a few dozen rounds into the bastards smug mouth.

It was cowardly and fucking pathetic. Having Logan chained up, powers suppressed, helpless to do a damn thing all while he was beat on.

The man wasted no time.

He kicked, and punched, and stomped every inch of Logan that he could, being utterly brutal with it, blood splattering on him and the ground and a few drops even landed on Wade, who was watching the scene on the other side of the bars, screaming Logan's name, begging him to at least try to fight back.

He didn't. His only movements were the jolts from the impact of the beating, and Wade was fairly certain he had to be unconscious until the man dug his fingers into his hair and pulled his head upwards, giving a better view of his face.

Wade choked on a building sob, the air being yanked from his lungs.

Logan's entire face was battered and bruised, swollen beyond recognition. There was more blood than skin visible, some fresh and some sticky looking, half dried, and some flaking off. A testament to how long he'd been trapped in this hell hole, to how many men had paid just to make him bleed.

Guilt gnawed uneasily at his stomach. If it wasn't for him and his stupid selfishness and inability to express his goddamn emotions, Logan would never of left. He wouldn't of ended up here, and he wouldn't be about to die in some disgusting back alley fight club while all Wade could do was watch helplessly. He caused this. He caused the person he loved the most in the world to be quite literally dying on his knees, at the mercy of assholes who had none to offer him.

The guy punched him hard across the jaw, earning a sickly crack, before spitting on his face. The crowd cheered him on, laughing and whooping.

Logan didn't react, blinking blearily beneath two swollen black eyes. When the grip of his hair dissapeared, he slumped back towards the ground like a rag doll.

Wade needed to get in that fucking cage right now. He shoved his way to the door, where the presenter guy was stood, looking almost bored.

Wade's desire for murder was going fucking crazy today. It should be a genuine testament to his self control that he hadn't killed half the stupid fucks he'd encountered, even if said restraint was only born from a need to save his friend.

"I've got one hundred. I want in now, but I want the cuffs off," Wade held up the crumpled bills, and the guy looked between the cash and the cage.

"Cuffs off? Don't think you get how dangerous this one is, kid. He's got a list of victims longer than the damn Bible, and I ain't getting in there to pull you out if he decides to gut ya like a fish. His powers may be suppressed but he's still fuckin' strong," the guy warned, and Wade plastered on the sleeziest smirk he could manage.

"I've got it, I want to be able to snap all his fingers in two. Doesn't seem right that they are protected away in those cuffs, they deserve the same treatment as the rest of him," his brain was screaming at him, the words physically hurting as he spoke them, like razor blades crawling up his throat and cutting his mouth to ribbons.

The man shrugged, "whatever," and a buzzer rang out.

"New contestant entering the ring!"

The door was opened. The man who had just been beating Logan strode out with a satisfied look on his stupid face, and Wade might of been refraining from actual murder, but absolutely anyone could've stuck their leg to the side and tripped the fucker. Anyone at all, really!

He followed the presenter into the cage.

Logan didn't move, or look up.

The cuffs got removed, and Wade got a pat on the shoulder as the man left, along with a sadistic "enjoy, all yours."

Logan was slumped into a heap on the floor, and now Wade was closer, he could better see the extent of the damage.

Every breath Logan took was laboured and wheezing, short pained gasps. The blood truly was everywhere, along with... other bodily fluids, which Wade sort of expected. This didn't seem the sort of job that allowed for frequent bathroom breaks.

He crouched down, reaching out to lightly rest a hand on Logan's bicep, on the area with the least damage, which was sickeningly hard to find.

Logan whimpered beneathe his hand, curling in onto himself further, a whispered "stop," barely audible under the weight of the crowds chants as they goaded him into beating the man in front of him further.

"Logan," he breathed, but the older man seemed to be buried too far in his own head to realise it was him.

Wade wasn't wasting anymore time. He needed Logan out of here, and the stupid inhibitor collar off of his neck so he could heal before he died from his injuries.

He opened the portal, and before anyone could even unlock the cage to get in, he was dragging all 300 pounds of Logan back into their apartment, and quickly shut down the gateway.

He left him bleeding on the carpet while he raced to the kitchen, rifling through drawers until he found the small metal magnetic device. A gift from Colossus a good while ago, which had the ability to open up those awful collars. Something told him brute force wasn't an option for Logan right now.

He returned, that uneasy pit in his stomach only growing when he discovered Logan was still in the same spot he'd left him in, staring up at the ceiling but seemingly not seeing anything.

"Hey Lo, I'm gonna take that collar off now, alright?"

His voice earned no reaction either, and Wade swallowed, reaching out for the device wrapped around his neck.

Logan flinched back when he did, shaking his head sluggishly, "no, no more, pl'se, no," and Logan sobbed, trying to curl up but hissing in pain when he moved.

"Peanut-"

The brunette tried to get up, but quickly came crashing back down when his legs instantly buckled.

"Logan, it's me, yeah? It's Wade," he assured, and he watched as Logan stilled, trying to focus in on his face, those big wet eyes filling up again.

He let out an awful, pained sound, and grabbed onto his arm so tightly it hurt.

"M...'m dead? I- want Wade," he cried harder, and Wade frowned.

"No baby, I'm here. You're alive, you're okay. I got you out. I'm here," he promised, squeezing Logan's hand in his own.

"Stop! S-stop! N-not real, not..." Logan choked, gagging out blood onto the carpet, and all Wade could do was whisper an apology before grabbing the collar and pulling Logan up enough to reach the back to open it, all while Logan screamed and thrashed and tried to fight him.

The collar popped off with a click, and Wade shoved it aside, shushing Logan softly with a hand stroking through his greasy hair.

To his relief, Logan started healing fairly quickly, his wounds closing themselves up and the bruises fading from where they'd once painted his skin unforgiving shades of blue and purple.

"You're alright, everything is okay. I'm here," Wade continued to assure quietly, and Logan's screaming tapered down into simmering sobs, ripping out of his chest just as brutally.

"'M, 'm sorry," he hiccuped, still clinging onto him for dear life, and Wade shook his head, still playing with his hair.

"No, nono, no baby. No 'sorry', you didn't do anything wrong," Wade said, but Logan thrashed, getting more distressed.

"Ru'n everythin' I touch. Messed up you're l-life, 'm not... shouldn't be here," Logan cried, trying to move away, but Wade stopped him, staring down at him.

"Is that really what you think?"

How could Logan even start to believe that? How could he think for a single second that he was impacting negatively whatsoever on Wade's life? He was Wade's life, could the idiot really not see that?

"Logan, look at me right the fuck now."

Logan hesitantly looked in his direction, "i- I shouldn't be here. You- you had a life, a future," he said, and Wade could tell this wasn't just something that had came to him in that moment. The way Logan spoke, the utter pain laced through the words like poison, this was something that had been eating away at him for a while.

God, Wade wanted to scream. He wanted to grab the dumbass and shake some actual sense into him, because seriously?

"There isn't anywhere else I'd let you be, peanut. You could hop fifty universes over and I'd march into the TVA and kill any fucker who tells me I'm not allowed to follow. You're stuck with me, get it? You're my present, and my future, and I'm not letting you dip out of that," Wade promised, because it was exactly that. A promise. Logan wasn't going anywhere without him following behind. Wade would make sure of it, no matter who he'd have to kill or worlds he'd have to eradicate in the process. It was all just pointless collateral to Wade, if it meant staying beside Logan.

Logan was looking at him with something akin to awe, bright eyes shining through the layers of blood and dirt smeared over his face, like he couldn't fathom that Wade would choose him to mean so much.

It was sweet, and yet made him want to rip his own heart out at the same time, to know that Logan thought so ridiculously little of himself. For him to think that, even after the months they've had together, that Wade could ever be so quick to discard him.

That was partly his fault. He knew that. He hadn't exactly showed a willingness to fight for... this when he was sleeping with Vanessa.

"Wade you... you're good. You're too good and you deserve someone who's not completely fucked up," Logan sat up a little, a bitter laugh erupting from his chest, "fuck, I couldn't even... I couldn't even get through sex without fucking breaking down, and it's not fair on you to carry that burden-"

Wade couldn't listen to Logan's self deprivation any longer, and leaned in to kiss him hard, one hand moving to cup the back of his head.

"Shut up," he said when the kiss broke momentarily, both of them panting inches away from each other, "shut the fuck up, alright? You are not a fucking burden to carry, and besides - you really think I'm good? You really think I'm a walk in the park? I kill people on the regular just for the crime of pissing me off. I never stop fucking talking. It's takes me six to twelve buisness weeks to process an emotion, and I'm a terrible friend-"

"Wade stop it," Logan begged, voice tight, hand on his thigh.

"No, you're not the only one with flaws here, baby. I could write you a whole book of mine, get you to sign it like a fucking contract," wasn't a bad idea, actually - having Logan legally binded to him just a little, "the point is," he kissed Logan's jaw, splayed his fingers over his neck, dug in his nails just a little, just enough to make the brunette whimper into his mouth, "I fucking love the shit out of you, Lo. You don't have to say it back. That's not what this is, alright? I just need you to know."

Logan broke their almost embrace to sit back, staring at him. Wade couldn't breathe for a second, waiting for the impending rejection.

Instead, he was met with three hundred pounds of adamantium skeleton atop of him, Logan's arms wrapping tight enough to hurt around his waist, his face buried away in Wade's neck which was rapidly growing wet with tears.

"I- I love you too," came a shaky whisper, and Wade just might of air punched in celebration if he was capable of moving at the present moment.

He leaned down to drop a kiss to Logan's hair, nuzzling his face into it. Logan practically purred, lifting his head up enough to kiss him, tongue slipping in without inhibition, and Wade moaned against his mouth, running his hands all over, knowing he'd probably need it after so long.

He was proven right by the way Logan's body went limp and heavy, soft noises escaping his throat as he plastered himself against Wade.

They lay like that for a while, on the blood stained rug, sharing lazy but desperate kisses, all while Wade touched Logan as much as he possibly could, reclaiming every inch of skin as his own, until he almost forgot where one part of himself ended and Logan started.

Logan mewled, bucking his hips down, and Wade kissed his cheek tenderly, "soon, big guy. Let's shower and get you something to eat first, kay? Let me take care of you, then I'll fuck you so hard you pass out. Pinky promise," Wade hummed, and Logan murmured his agreement, letting Wade help him up off the floor.

A few hours later when, true to his word, Wade had quite literally washed him, scrubbing his scalp clean with gentle fingers, made him his favourite meal despite his hatred of cooking, and then fucked him so good Logan did genuinely pass out briefly at his climax, they were laid out in bed together, tangled together loosely.

Wade was playing with his hair. Logan was leaving trails of peppered kisses over Wade's chest.

And Logan thought, for the first time with a clear brain, the voices gone, that Wade would never have to follow him across fifty universes, because Logan would rather gouge his own body apart than be more than fifty feet away from him ever again.

[fic-dumpster]

Deer in headlights | Short stories: Public disturbance

1k+ words || Bonten x Reader

fluff mostly, typical shenanigans, no beta and not edited, commas placed everywhere, tried to write it as gender-neutral as possible, let me know if I missed anything.

The thing about going shopping with Bonten is not the unnecessary stuff they buy nor the amount of attention they get; it's the bathroom. Every time you have to go to a public place, they don't let you go alone.

How many times have you heard women shriek in terror because you didn't notice Sanzu or Rindou following you inside the ladies’ washroom? The worst part was that they were surprised and asked what was wrong like it was the most normal thing to do, and they weren’t doing something inappropriate.

That's why you’re pulling Kokonoi with you. He's not going to intimidate the women occupying the bathroom, at least not like the other four waiting at the nearest bench. Takeomi, Sanzu, Kakucho, and Rindou remained with all the shopping bags there. Kokonoi could pass unnoticeable.

After buying some things and drinking three iced teas, of course, your bladder would be full, and you’ll have no other choice but to go with someone. Mikey and his orders about your safety. It’s not like the rest didn't agree with him.

Two doors and a lock later, you are in a stall with Kokonoi. The latter refused to turn around.

“Koko, just turn; I can't pee like this,” you grumbled.

“No, It’s weird to stare at the door,” Kokonoi replied.

“Then close your eyes!” But you didn't mean it like that because he did close his eyes, but the idiot didn't turn around.

You peed, staring at Kokonoi, who was trying to hold back his smile.

“See, it wasn't that bad,” Kokonoi said as he dried your hands together with his under one of those automatic air dryers, “you always make such a fuss.”

“Why do I feel you enjoy this,” you murmured, ignoring the previous statement.

And you were right. A wicked side smile adorned his face. Kokonoi basked in the privilege of being able to be alone with you, handpicked by you, only you, while the rest drowned in jealousy. Except for Sanzu. He was drowning in a strawberry and banana frappe, angrily slurping the chunks of frozen fruit that weren't properly triturated.

“Where are they? Kokonoi is taking too long with Y/N,” spat the Sanzu, suspecting the worst, “I bet my left sack that he’s having se-”

“A line in the bathroom? That happens often,” intruded Takeomi as he remembers a time when he had to take Senju to the bathroom. Why do women take so long? Internally wondered the scarred man.

Rindou and Kakucho groaned from carrying the most bags out of them and they also followed Sanzu’s line of thoughts. Three out of four men sighed in unison.

All laments were put to a halt by Takeomi’s phone ring. The screen showed Kokonoi’s name, and an unpleasant feeling stuck in the older man’s gut. It only worsened as soon as he picked up and heard your screams of desperation.

“Help!!! Takeomi!!!!!! I need your help!! It’s an emergency!!” you didn't give Takeomi time to ask any questions. You blurted out your location and ended the call after screaming for him to hurry.

Takeomi didn't notice the other three men present had leaned over to hear the conversation, and not a second later, Sanzu, Rindou, and Kakucho dashed towards the place you mentioned over the phone, leaving Takeomi with all the shopping bags, alone.

“Hurry up, Y/N needs-” Turning around, Takeomi realized he was talking to none but shopping bags. “Bastards.”

“I can't believe you snatched my phone for that,” Kokonoi massaged his temples, already expecting the dumbasses to show up guns blazing in the middle of a shopping mall after your call for help.

“But I am out of battery, and it's an emergency!!” you said.

“I don't think this qualifies as an emergency,” sighed Kokonoi as he eyed the crowd around him and the stage with colorful lights. “Besides, how are the rest supposed to find us?”

On cue, Sanzu’s obviously loud call of your name could be heard above the tumult of people. Kokonoi had to give them credit; that was pretty fast. He could recognize the pink mane not too far from where he stood and Rindou’s purple head too.

“Koko, do you see them?!” you grabbed his sleeves with urgency. “I can’t see! Let me—” You used him as a ladder, climbing until your eyes could see above the crowd.

Rolling his eyes, Kokonoi let you do as you pleased. What else was he supposed to do? Once your head popped up from above the crowd, you enthusiastically waved at the trio, beckoning them over. As soon as they were close enough to touch you, Sanzu, Rindou, and Kakucho surrounded Kokonoi, who was attempting to hold you in his arms, and began inspecting every inch of skin they could reach.

“You seem fine,” said Sanzu, holding your face in between his palms, pressing your cheeks until your lips puckered like a fish.

“Becaushh I am,” you mumbled with your fish lips, “pleash let my cheekshh go.”

Sanzu couldn't help but coo at you, and without any warnings, he planted little pecks on your lips, making Kokonoi frown, he sat first row for the PDA show.

“Enough! That's enough!” Shouted Rindou, prying Sanzu’s hands away from your face as Kokonoi moved with you still in his arms, separating you both. Kakucho stood there, watching Sanzu and Rindou fight while Kokonoi scolded Sanzu from afar.

“Have you no self-control?!” screamed Kokonoi.

“Like any of you have any when it comes to Y/N!” Sanzu defended himself.

“That’s true,” acknowledged Kakucho.

Everyone talking loudly on top of each other.

As the scene transpired, none noticed the circle of people who observed the whole thing. Some murmured about a lovers’ quarrel, while others about a kidnapping, and debated whether they should call security.

You, on the other hand, remembered why you called them in the first place.

Ah, right. You needed a charger. But none was paying attention to you, hanging like a chihuahua in Koko’s arms.

Not a minute later, security appeared and escorted everyone out for causing a public disturbance.

Takeomi watched the minutes pass by on a TV screen near the bench you all left him. With all the bags and now his own phone without battery, He wondered when would you all come back to pick up all the shopping bags.

[velvetures]

Hello loves💕 I still can't get over your writing I'm obsessed!!

I would love to request Roommate König x fem reader. König hears you fucking some guy on the other side of the wall and he can tell you faked it so once the dude is gone he's got you over his shoulder and is walking you to his bedroom to fuck you right. I love the idea of her trying to get him to confess to her and trying anything after months or years of mutual pining, her last resort is to make him jealous.

Overheard

a/n: I'm so sorry for being so slow my love... I always have the worst self-confidence with nsfw reqs. I constantly write them, delete them, and start all over... (this is like... the 8th full-draft retry) So I hope you'll forgive me if this isn't up to standard. Also, I know this trope has been covered by some really talented writers and I hoped to do it justice, and not feel like a carbon copy of something better. (ps. This shit is too long... but I knew if I deleted anything, I'd delete the whole thing over again.)

tw's: 18+ ONLY, nameless hookup, alluded unprotected sex w/side character, unintentional orgasm denial, the reader is mentally not in the best place for sex (disconnected), voyeurism, jealously, fem-oral receiving, fem-fingering receiving, dirty talk, König being a bit of a loser, König omitting his lack of experience, aftercare.

His mom kept saying it was about time to settle down. That the biological clock, normally pushed on women, was ever-present and ticking against his favor. But his sweet, innocent, mother didn’t know the depth of his awkwardness. Not even the slightest idea that her well-mannered boy, turned praise-worthy Colonel was nothing but a bumbling fucking idiot when it came to speaking with women. In the field, sure. He could give orders, discuss tactics, and even bullshit with the best of the best… but if a woman was among those? Oh hell. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall with a randomly developed stuttering issue.

He didn’t understand where it came from either.

It wasn’t like his mother was one of the overbearing types that made dating impossible, and nor did he exactly have the worst time when he was younger with women being interested. It was just… after they showed interest, that became the struggle. Relaxing wasn’t possible. Not when he knew that a woman’s perception of him was far higher than that of any man. Believing that even the smallest of gestures and phrases could earn him an immediate dismissal, and his name or photo being sent in some group-chat to be berated after a first date. He didn’t blame any of the women though… he knew what he looked like. What he sounded like… and God, how miserable his personality was compared to what his career and position would lead others to assume.

A shred of truth could always be found in his mother’s warning though.

He’d gone years without any meaningful relationship where the softer, side of a woman could be found. He found bastardized ways of getting a taste, but he could only allocate so much money a month to porn sites and camgirls without feeling like a total sleaze. The Colonel felt much more confident mapping out a prospective warzone than the contours of a woman’s body, and fuck… it made him more than a little embarrassed to admit. Enough so, that when you mentioned that your rental agreement was coming to an end, and you were trying to find somewhere new to stay, he offered for you to just move in with him.

He owned. Which made the idea of ‘rent’ or you paying it almost unquestionably stupid. It made the deal a little sweeter -in his mind- for you to agree, and then he wouldn’t have to be quite so personally diligent on logging onto online portals to pay utilities. That is, if he could get you to move in. And while in his own mind and body, every synapse screamed that he was being unrealistic, you hadn’t caught on. He’d looked just as stoic and cold as ever when he propositioned that you just start moving over your things into his house. Save money… it’ll be easier for you; He’d said, hard eyes glancing over your face. You thought saying ‘yes’ was anxiety-inducing? König nearly passed out in his office after walking there on numb feet and weak knees.

In the week following, he brought you a small ring of keys, and you started moving your life into his, one cardboard box at a time. And every night after returning from his on-base duties, he would have to physically restrain himself from opening up the taped flaps and getting a peek at the unattended items sitting by the front door. At the time, he thought it was nothing more than unchecked curiosity and instinct to feel-out a new situation. Just simply wanting to learn more about you before you started sleeping over. Merely the soldier in him. But box, by box, that curiosity didn’t dampen down. Even when your items began making their way out of their containers and enmeshing with his around the house.

Tea cups in the kitchen cabinet next to his thicker, coffee mugs. Throw blankets rolled and stacked in the far corning of the couch he rarely sat on. A little rug you’d tossed down in the kitchen in front of the stove with a little floral print that he’d been utterly possessed to not get any stains on while cooking, or by taking off his boots before walking inside. And while never claiming to be a ‘minimalist’ man, he learned right away that his house was nothing short of a hotel when it came to personality.

You’d brought at least five full walls worth of decor. Little trinkets and cute things from all over the world you’d been sneaky enough to stuff into the pockets of your gear. And all of it, had initially been shoved into an empty linen closet he’d been perfect happy with you claiming as your own since it was ‘on your side of the house’. That was, until he found himself noticing that you’d put more than “storage” things away, and had silently refused to put them where they belonged.

On the damn walls.

“I don’t decorate well anyways..” It’d been his excuse… or at least something along those lines. Maybe a little bit more gruff. Guarded. Because even in his own home, he had the tendency of walking around like someone was going to sneak up behind him.

So one week, while he was away, you took the permission and ran with it. Buying the picture hanging kits, and everything else needed to begin covering the Colonel’s walls with your amassed collection of utterly unnecessary, but brain-scratching decorations, art, and collectable junk. Spending a good half hour walking around the halls and rooms with a little smile of accomplishment on your face seeing the colonel’s house feeling more like a home. Totally unaware that he’d been checking the security cameras dotted around, watching you scale a shitty stepladder, climb the kitchen cabinets, and struggle to lift the more heavy items. All the while, growing more and more intrigued with this new arrangement. Debating whether he liked it or not. Rapt attention making the instinctive suggestion that you’d make a good wife far less perverse than he should’ve felt it to be.

Missions took precedence though. And it kept both of you busy more than not. Fully living adjacent instead of in a more dependent role. But there were decidedly small decisions that needed to be made. Like who was in charge of buying groceries, and getting essentials that you both used. König ended up just leaving cash on the counter once a week so you could take care of his end for him. Saving the trouble of a second loaf of bread being bought, or doubling up on paper towels after a miscommunication lead to fifty rolls of the shit needing to be stored somewhere. You did the job more than credibly, and it got you out of the house too.

Which was good, because you rarely left.

Not unlike him, you preferred your time spent in calm situations. Either reading reports, answering emails, and other related tasks before just closing that tab on your laptop and opening up an new one to watch a show or scroll on your phone. You appeared to thrive in his house when you could curl up like some little bird in a nest and just rest. Developing almost permanently sleepy eyes when you came through the door, and a softer tone of voice that took some getting used to. König didn’t exactly understand it. Why your demeanor changed so much within the house, and how it got substantially much more noticeable when your schedules aligned for both of you to be there at the same time.

A solid seven months or more passed before he got his answer. And from your late-night scrolling nonetheless.

Some woman, blabbering on about her husband, and all of the ways that he effected her life once she moved in with him. And, honestly, König wasn’t listening all that much. Having just begun sitting on the other end of the couch with you, since it was where you spent your evenings after dinner. And, it’d become a little bit of a new experience. Just being halfway close to you. Interacting, but not. A safe way to enjoy your presence without any expectations. But that woman on your phone caught his attention when she made the joke about being tired all the time. Tired. Sleepy. All the fucking time. He had to stare down at the TV to keep his head from snapping in your direction.

Apparently it was chemical. Some little thing in the back of a woman’s mind that men didn’t have the complexity to experience the same way. That this woman -and you- were so mentally focused for such a long time, that when the right person was around you, and created a safe space, it acted like a the strongest sleeping pill in existence. Flooding you with dopamine and melatonin to the point that your pretty face got even sweeter with those deep, sleepy looks and constant yawns at all times of the day. Getting a glimpse of you tapping the screen twice, and then tapping at your keyboard to leave a comment only reinforced his inquisitiveness. From the moving boxes, to watching you on cameras while away… and now realizing that you acted so sweet and docile around the house because of him..? He didn’t know how to control himself, and still find a way to keep figuring you out.

Wanting more…

Needing a chance to find out if things could go further than just living in his house.

Dating wasn’t a walk in the park for you either. Call it a hazard of military work. Computers and filing paperwork was more your speed than the guns and blood that König was accustomed to, but it still limited the amount of men who were interested. Especially in the long-term.

It really came down to the uniform and lack of free time that could be allotted to the guys that you did have the fortune to meet. They wanted to take you on dates, and your superiors preferred you stay late to take minutes for a meeting. They always suggested you take a vacation, since it was clear just how tired you were on a daily basis. But vacations were practically a laughable dream you knew wouldn’t come to fruition until you finally were sent the retirement packet everyone in the service dreamed of. But.. on the rare occasion, you did have the energy to entertain a man for a night. Just. One. Night.

Thankfully König was out.

Such good timing considering you’d spent nearly a week, taking your sweet time to wring orgasms out of yourself just for the sheer frustration of getting them, and still not feeling satisfied. Instinctively missing the warmth of skin on skin and the dynamic of having someone else provide and take pleasure from you. Even getting on the app had felt more like a shopping trip than a chance to go on a date. Looking through photos and bios with nothing more on your mind than someone big enough, and pretty enough to make the ordeal worth it. The guy who answered back to your painfully blatant request for a good fuck, didn’t ask any questions either. Just asked politely asked if you wanted to go to him, or vice versa and gave you ample time to get yourself ready before the knock on the front door.

Your mental ruined any chance of having a good time though.

The poor guy sucking at your neck and grunting soft praises was nice… but you couldn’t get into it. Feeling tense. Going through the motions. Foreplay becoming an act of forced moans to reassure the guy genuinely trying to make you feel good, and unable to even make eye contact for a slightly guilty feeling that pervaded your thoughts. Hell, you even refused to have missionary, just to make sure that your facial expressions didn’t have to constantly match the fake whimpers and whines.

John… Joe… Jacob… whatever his name was, he was honestly a sweet guy. Giving your clit attention, no just shoving his cock in you without prep, and actively checking in without making it overbearing. On another day, you’d have really been trying harder to impress him. Give the impression that you were interested in him for more than the sex you couldn’t surrender to. Hope that he liked you enough to stick around. But deep down, you thought better of it. Withholding your feelings to ensure that when he left you alone for the night, that you wouldn’t hate yourself.

König, on the other hand, came home a bit earlier than expected. Walking in the door quietly to expect a silent house, and you sleeping in your bed or on the couch after waiting up for him. Only to be stunned with wet, skin slapping and familiar, pathetic, whimpers getting overrun by deep grunts and low, almost whispered sounds from a man.

God… you were getting fucked.

His whole chest tightened in embarrassment and his face felt hot. You’d never been quite this comfortable… at least to his knowledge. Plenty of nights he had overheard the faint sounds of you getting off alone… soft little moans and gentle hums of a vibrator filtering down the hallway to him. But he’d never heard anything quite that… loud. Even when you fucked yourself on a dildo -he’d always been too curious not to listen intently- the slick sounds of your cunt always made louder noise than your voice. As mortified as he was hearing it… part of him knew something was wrong. Like his whole body was stiff, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. Faking it… for some unknown reason.

Why couldn’t you say something? Surely you could ask him to… to do something different right? To let you use a toy? Or… or touch your clit? Whatever it took to help you enjoy yourself. But those pinched, almost broken moans starting grating on him within seconds. Stalking towards your bedroom door quietly, and leaning against the wall. Eyes closed and his breath getting heavier with each imagined scene in his head that developed. Picturing him doing all the wrong things… Touching you… tasting you… and living out his own pleasure without the slightest idea that every sound out of your mouth was a fucking lie.

König’s jaw clenched. Resisting a sudden desire to bang on the door or make some other loud noise that would bring this all to an end. Even his fist clenched at his side flinched towards the bedroom door, as if he was insane enough to actually bust in.

What would he even do?

The question rang out a bit too harshly in his mind.

He didn’t have the first idea how to… do better. To make you feel good, or any woman really. Plenty of jealousy rose in his throat at the thought of that bastard fucking you, but he hadn’t even touched a pussy in years. And the last time he did it, he was, pathetically inexperienced. Using his huge fingers to try and prep his partner, but not hitting any of the right spots. Accidentally taking a clinical approach, and it left him feeling like a damn gynecologist instead of a good fuck.

He couldn’t please you, no matter how much he wanted to…

The sobering thought forced him to back away from your bedroom door. But pride alone forced him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of scotch in his hand. The last -and unavoidable- line of defense before the front door. No doubt in his mind that if nothing else, he’d get a good look at the man you’d brought home for a disappointing night of sex. Wanting to at least humiliate the bastard for a few seconds. Because while he knew himself to not be an acceptable partner, the guy currently riding out his high in your bedroom wasn’t going to know it. And seeing him -in his daily fatigues- and his hood, would give any man a moment of pause.

You felt sticky. Hot. And more than a little achy in all the wrong ways as Jeff… Josh… whoever the fuck he was, removed himself form your bed and began pulling on his jeans. Watching cautiously as he excused himself into your bathroom -sweetly- offering you a wet washcloth and a too-shy smile for a man who’d just come all over your stomach.

You didn’t bother putting on pants to walk him out to the front door. Too disappointed and stuck in your own head to see König standing in the corner of the kitchen. His dark eyes glaring daggers at your… ‘guest’ who was much more observant, and stood stock still. Shirt in his hands, and forced to raise his gaze more than normal to get the best look at the terrifying man looming in the shadows. It took you far longer than it should’ve. To trace Jonah… Josiah’s… gaze, and recognize your roommate. And even longer to remember that you weren’t wearing pants.

“Hey man…”

You had to give what’s-his-name credit for being as casual as he sounded. Because in all honesty, you were just as taken aback. Shuffling to stand behind the guy just enough that your bare pussy and ass weren’t totally out for him to see.

“Evening…” König sounded… bored? Not his normal tone. “Heading out already?” The guy you were using as a shield, just nodded his head. Looking a bit apologetic, but still anxious.

“Yeah, man…” He pulled his head over his shirt, patting his pockets for the jingle of car keys before glancing back at you with an truly apologetic smile, and a clear unpreparedness for the situation. “I… uh…. thanks for… letting me come over…”

You can’t manage more than a nod. No smile, no reassuring touch to him… nothing. Just a silent acknowledgment and the subsequent scamper over to the couch to grab a blanket to cover yourself up.

Shit… König fucking waved bye…

He didn’t expect you to come out. Nor to get his first-ever look at your pussy. And god it’d taken a lot of restraint not to just stare at you and memorize what he could get get a look at. You just looked soft. So fucking small and soft… A slight sheen of sweat on your face and the roots of your hair damp from the erotic affair.

Too bad it was all an act.

“Thanks for letting him come, huh?” He can’t resist… the guy just hadn’t been cautious enough to not fuel the fire of jealously in him.

Seeing you wrap that blanket around you tighter, avoiding all eye contact, and even turning your side to him a bit… it makes him smile under his hood. An amused one. A sickeningly happy sort of feeling rising in his gut where you appear vulnerable under his gaze. You’re already much more expressive just talking to him than you’d sounded with that bastards cock inside you.

“Didn’t think you’d be back for a while…” Your valid excuse falls a bit flat, especially when those dark brown eyes scan your entire body. He lifts his tumbler of scotch under his hood, nodding before taking a long drink. Feeling a secondary burn that soothes the heat building everywhere else in him.

“I can see that…” He chuckles lowly. To him, it sounds unsure… and maybe tinged with anger, jealously. But on your face, he’s clear that you don’t recognize it. Far too embarrassed to see that there’s just as much uncertainty flooding him as well. “Could hear it too…”

He literally sees your shoulders sink. The wave of embarrassment. Part of him loves it. Knowing you’re experiencing some of the same things he is. That you to, know what it’s like to leave a bed feeling like things didn’t go right, and there’s a guilt that hardens like sediment in your gut. Yet the other half, resists pushing harder. Using this same, defensive, and chastising tone. To give you just a bit of respite, because, he’s not really mad… he’s just fuming with jealously.

“If I knew… I wouldn’t have…” You can’t manage much more. Both of you knowing damn well this wouldn’t have happened if you knew what his arrival was going to be. You always kept so good to his schedules… and not just because this was his house. But because you were so genuinely sweet around him.

“Been so loud?” He suggests, downing the last gulp of his scotch and pushing away from the counter. “Speaking of that…” His gaze lingers on your throat… those faked moans echoing in his mind.

“I didn’t know it was common practice for women to walk their fucktoys to the door… especially when he doesn’t make you come.”

If your stomach was twisting before, there wasn’t a doubt now. And god… you couldn’t tell if it was that he was home, or his voice, or just the edged-feeling of your aching pussy; but König was making you squirm. More than he’d ever done before… and you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of him plenty of times before when no other fantasy had done the trick.

“I finished.” You defend, tightening the blanket around your waist and tucking your bare feet under the excess material pooling on the floor.

König’s eyes blacken, and he laughs lowly. It’s the closest you’ve seen to his behavior when he’s interrogating someone. His power of knowing all the right answers and just dangling the freedom to lie right in front of your face. Maddening, to say the least. And enough to make your thighs flex together.

“I’d like to believe you…” he begins, making leisurely steps closer. “Yet, I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit hearing you come… and what I just hear… is nothing close to the real thing.”

“It’s different with—when it’s not just me.” You gape at him, trying to find anger at the audacity.

Searching for something other than a feeling of arousal knowing that despite your muffled cries into pillows, he’d still heard you at night. Still listened, and if nothing else, knew what your true pleasure sounded like to call you on bullshit. He shrugs, massive hands resting on his hips. Watching them sway a little as he keeps getting closer. Testing the boundary lines you no doubt had. Pushing and prodding at weak spots, and wondering if he can set foot on the living room rug you stood at the center of.

“Different, huh?” The fake acceptance doesn’t last long. “So if I asked for proof… you’d have it?”

“Proof?” You choke out. “What kind of proof could I even give you?” There are plenty running around in your head, all of them raunchier than the previous. But you’re almost desperate to hear him say it.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got the wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever heard,” He growls softly. “You never finish yourself off without making the slickest goddamn noises. Can hear it from down the hallway like it’s playing off my phone.” He adds, voice getting gritty, eyes lowering towards your hips and back up.

“Show me, that is… if he really did make you come.”

Air in your lungs evaporates. God it’s criminal how fucking lewd anything could sound coming from his mouth. And your dry pussy is pathetically getting wetter by the second. Fluttering muscles twitching with each filthy admission he makes. You’re already resorting to putting pressure against your clit by flexing your legs, trying to deny the feelings. Excusing it all by the still-lingering desire for release and not König. Not moving, and a miserable lack of a response forces him to approach faster. Stepping onto the rug serving as a mental barrier for you.

“Embarrassed?” He asks, head tilting a little and stretching the hood to pull away from his chest a little. Putting a bit more of his chest on display in that tight t-shirt.

You shake your head defiantly.

“Oh? Okay then… you should be able to show me then, right? Pretty girl like you, wanting to get fucked… Should be more than willing to brag that you got satisfied. That he left you satiated…”

Your face burns. Debating how to answer. If it’s even smart to try and test your voice in the first place.

“Nothing to see… got-got cleaned up…” God the miserable truth that your no-name partner’s cum was the only thing needing cleaned off of you hits like a punch to the gut.

A massive hand grabs at the blanket in your grip stops all possibility of lying anymore. A warning. Gentle, for sure and meant to be just a small test of consent. However, you too far into this to not want more. He’s just hitting all the right buttons, whether he means to or not.

“How about I… check for myself?” He asks lowly, free hand -covered in a glove- sliding up under his hood and returning into sight with the achingly sexy sight of a huge, scarred hand. His meaning isn’t lost on you, and it’s almost like your cunt floods in anticipation.

“Slide my hand between your pretty thighs, and see just how good he treated you…” He murmurs, trailing fingers down the two sides of the blanket pulled together. “Let me see if that pussy is fucking drenched like she deserves to be.”

“König.” You warn softly, eyes darting down to his hand and back to his eyes.

Not the slightest bit worried about him touching you. Not at all. But about what would happen after all the tension faded. What would come of your relationship if you fucked… or, just made things complicated in general.And he pauses, looking to you a bit cooler. His breathing still heavy, and laden with emotion.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You’re desperate to think of a way to explain yourself, but the most basic, stupid, comment comes out of your mouth.

“I don’t want this to end badly.”

He straightens just a bit. But his hands don’t move. And while from your perspective, it seems he’s hesitating on whether or not to continue, that’s not what’s got him stuck mere inches away from slipping his fingers between your folds.

He’s worried you know. That you’ve caught on to his inexperience, and are merely defending yourself from a second bad experience in one night. And god it makes this throat burn. Desperate to defend himself and prove that while -yes- he’s more than a little bit lost when it comes to the manual process, he’s still going to be the most teachable fucking man you’ve ever met.

“I’ll listen so well…” He eventually mutters, stepping just a bit closer. Voice lowering and a hint of desperation entering it. “Can—can give you everything you want… Just need to tell me…” he adds, unable to look you in the eyes.

It’s not exactly what you were expecting to hear, but it still strokes that burn between your thighs. Especially when his hands grip your hips through the blanket wrapped around you. Groping softly, massaging at the fat over your muscles and feeling hungry just to touch you.

“I… I don’t want things to be awkward afterwards.” You try to reexplain. Hoping the clarification will help him see why you hadn’t already leaned into his commanding touch.

“Awkward,” he repeats, as if it’s a foreign idea. Like it’d never crossed his mind. “Don’t plan on ignoring you anymore… Not—Not after hearing that… and knowing… fuck…”

“He couldn’t have listened… please tell me you tried to tell him what to do… what you wanted,” His rambles get more panicked. Like every thought in his head is equally important and he can’t take the time to pick one and let me even answer. “Should’ve asked what your pussy needed… how to make you feel good… make those pretty sounds..”

You’re half dazed just watching his breathy words fan the material of his hood to react to his boot kicking your feet apart. Wide hand sliding between your thighs and groaning. A deep, guttural sound that reminds of him being winded. And really… he probably should be. Because your inner thighs are dry to the touch. The wetness he’d been creating still not enough to make much fuss over. But he’s not satisfied with that alone. Immediately curling a finger to spread your lips, feeling the thick, slick of new arousal that had been nothing, if not his doing.

“Ohh, you poor baby…” He sighs lowly, head rolling back at the mere sensation of your pussy under his fingertips. Feeling you a bit anxiously, yet getting a buzz in the back of his skull when your hole pulses against his prodding touch. “Left you so fucking hot…”

It’s a fast movement but he’s got you off your feet and dropped down onto the couch in one swift move. Your back arched in the slumped position and the blanket that’d been covering your -pathetic- modesty, fluttered open on both sides of your hips. Leaving your core exposed to his hungry and heavy-lidded eyes. Letting out a little whine of a sound when he slowly drops to a knee; tracing his hands down your inner thighs like he was scared of touching you too harshly.

“König, please…” You gasp out, watching his thumb run over your swollen labias. Pinching your fat lips together softly and inadvertently putting delicious pressure on your swollen clit. He curses under his breath, free hand grabbing your thigh with bruising strength.

“Tell me how to please you,” He commands, eyes flashing dangerously wide in the icy moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “I need to make you come.”

His desperate, and knows you can see it. His whole body shakes seeing your flushed pussy a mere foot away from his face, and nothing but opportunity and his hood preventing him from burying his face in it. Watching as you shyly reach for his wrist, guiding his hand where you want it. Extending his fingers and whimpering when your motion for him to rub small circles over your clit sends those to-intense waves of pleasure through your pussy.

“Like that… just like that…” You’re able to praise with a shaky nod of your head.

Rocking your hips in tandem with his movements and nearly crying out in relief when he diligently keeps the same pressure to you despite your little twitches and grinds. Allowing you the freedom to plant your feet on the edge of the couch and simply feel. König’s lost in it. Lost in the sight of you. Your pretty mouth gaping open and your hips chasing the touch he’s providing. His breath catching when you cry out or give a weak praise for his work. Like you’re enjoyingwhat he’s doing.

But god he’s happy to stay right where you want him, how you want him. Feeling his knee dig into the harsh floorboards, and ignoring it with a refreshed feeling of duty he’d long lost as a soldier. Never had he been given such a pretty fucking prize to work for. Nothing as sweet as seeing your cunt drip from his rough fingers rubbing soft, almost too-soft circles over it. Not even realizing that he’d spent almost fifteen minutes just rubbing your clit lazily when your hand reaches back down. Happy to direct him yet again, especially when he doesn’t even need a verbal direction to do exactly what you want.

“Fingers,” You whisper through panting exhales. “Give me your fingers…”

Your little hand grabs his pointer and middle fingers, spreading your own slick over them like a goddamn professional before guiding him down to your aching hole. Letting go just long enough to feel the thick digits press though that first little ring of tightened muscle. Forcing your eyes open to witness his mostly-hidden expression as he sinks knuckle deep inside of you.

“So fucking pretty,” His head shakes a little, lost in the creamy slick gathering at the base of his fingers as he curls him up towards your pelvis just a little. Subconsciously scared to do the wrong thing, but desperate to keep your cunt flex and mold to his touch. “Tell me, sweetheart… show me what she needs.”

You’re too possessed to chase your high to not listen. Readjusting your bent legs on the couch to gently lift your hips and sink them back down. Slowly getting used to the feeling of his thick fingers, already deeper than your no-name partner. Groaning when they bump into your g-spot just hard enough to make your clit burn. Grinding against his hand and keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist just to try and ground yourself to the present situation. Lost in the rhythm of fucking yourself -quite literally- stupid within mere minutes. Beginning to hear that vulgar, sucking sound of your pussy gripping his fingers and utterly drooling over his palms.

König’s helpless to so more than sing your praise. “That’s a good girl… so good for me. Using me like a fucking toy.”

It’s the best he’s felt in a long time. Watching you take from him. Too absorbed to even think about anything other than yourself. Not in enough control to even worry about the true moans and yelps escaping you. Real pleasure wracking your body and burning every nerve ending.

“More… please more…” You cry softly, hips slowing to a painfully sexy grind as you squeeze the tendons in his wrist with your thumb.

König takes a little more initiative than he’s normally comfortably using, but adds a third finger. Slowly pumping them in and out, little by little, to help you adjust. Watching as your eyebrows pinch together in focus. A low growl rumbles in his chest, his mouth practically watering as your cunt sucks him in.

“Let me taste it, baby…” He huffs, head flinching forwards before backing off, repeating the action a couple more times. “Wanna help… just—just let me taste you…”

You clench around his fingers when he rests his cheek against your inner thigh. Big, wide eyes pleading with you so innocently like he isn’t stretching your hole wider than the biggest of your toys can with nothing but a few fingers. Forcing you to slow the roll of your hips, a shaky hand reaching out to cup his face through the mask. Rubbing a thumb over his hidden cheekbone with a little whimpered hum. Pulling his head closer to you, hissing when the hem of his hood merely grazes your clit.

“How’d you want it?” He asks, head down and pulling his mask up so you’re stuck. Forced to merely feel his mouth so close to you, and not see the shape of his mouth.

“Lick-lick my clit… s-soft…” You whine, eye shutting when the hot fan of his exhale his your fevered skin.

Holding his head steady with one hand, you almost coming up off the couch when his tongue makes one, long, lazy, lap between your folds. Gripping at the material of his hood just tight enough that he ends up ripping the whole thing off. Tossing it to the floor with an aggressive snarl that rumbles against your clit. Sparks of pleasure forcing your thighs apart and jerking your hips back up. Chasing his mouth. The rough texture of his tongue, and the slight graze of his teeth against your slicked folds.

Your orgasm approaches fast from there. Between his fingertips stroking you deep, and the new rhythm of his tongue lapping your slick up to massage your clit, it’s hard to even warn König that he can’t stop for risk of ruining your long-awaited release.

“König… K… oh… fuucckk…”

Your back arches tightly, both hands grabbing harshly at his hair with an unintelligible shout as you come. Jerking wildly and one of your feet losing it’s hold on the edge of the couch. Trying to fight through the shocks of pleasure, and groaning curses with a hoarse throat. Feeling König’s free hand latch onto your thigh to keep you from running away too far from his still-working lips and tongue. Sucking up the wet drips of release trying to drip down his hand.

“Slow, slow down.” You whimper, pushing at his forehead just a little. The pressure too much. The stretch of his fingers still satisfying but overstimulating.

Your so fucking grateful that he doesn’t fight you on it, or force you to try for another. And maybe it’s just the mere sight of you. abdominal muscles twitching, forcing your upper body to do baby-curls with each flex of your pulsing cunt. Toes curled and an all-over buzzing sensation making it hard to even make sense of where your limbs are in relation to the rest of your body, much less König or the couch your hardly laying on.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His softened voice almost gives you emotional whiplash, especially when he bends over you forehead resting against yours softly.

Gently removing his fingers with murmured apologies when your little winces mar your pretty features. Both hands sliding up your sides to help lift you back onto the couch, moving to sit himself next to you just long enough to reposition your body on his lap. Pulling that blanket back over your bottom half and maneuvering your cold, tingling feet between his thighs like he can tell they’re freezing. He presses soft kisses all over your forehead and nose. Rocking you softly and squeezing at the muscles in the back of your neck reassuringly.

“You needed that… needed to feel good…” he murmurs almost lovingly.

You nod dumbly, laying your head against his shoulder. Letting out soft nearly unconscious whimpers and a soft repetition of his name in cum-drunk appreciation.

“Told you I could listen… could be good for you,” He adds, almost like he’s reassuring himself of the idea. “Wanted to be better than him. Needed to prove it.”

He holds up your weighty head, stabilizing it with care and a sickeningly sweet look of devotion in his eyes.

“You’re never going to fake it again, sweetheart.”

reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

[clairewritesjjkxreader]

Sukuna’s Wife and Yuuji’s Onee-chan (Sukuna x Reincarnated!Y/N) scenario

Request/Inquiry from @aikothingdream:

“It would be funny to see Yuuji also not like his teacher hitting on Onee-chan”

Life as a cursed spirit’s “bride” was hilariously boring. 

Gojo described your cursed energy as below average, you had zero martial arts training or talent, and Sukuna threatened Gojo and Yuuji not to put you in danger. 

Yuuji was often busy training, studying, or hanging out with his new classmates. You were happy that he had people to look after him in your place, but without a job or a class to attend, you were a parasite.

To alleviate your guilt, you did everyone’s laundry (minus their unmentionables, even Yuuji's, who furiously insisted he was old enough to wash his own underwear–kids, they grow up so fast *sigh*), mopped the hallways, wiped the windows, and other chores. 

You just finished rearranging the clothes in your cabinet for the second time today. 

You sprawled yourself on the floor like a starfish. 

Free food, no rent. Everything was paid for here. This should’ve been the ideal life, but you were so booooored.

Spurned by the desire to fill the void, you went to the kitchen. No one was around. Of course. 

You searched the cupboard, but only found a half-eaten package of cookies. The fridge had a can of whipped cream on the verge of emptiness and some strawberries.. 

Shutting the fridge close with your hip, you chomped on a cookie and a medium-sized strawberry then sprayed a swirl of cream in your mouth.

“Guess who’s back with treats! I–ah.” Gojo Satoru stopped at the kitchen doorway, a plastic bag full of sweets hanging from his hand. 

A silence fell over as you saw each other. 

He stood there, quietly as you stared, frozen with a mouth stuffed with sugar. 

You: (⊙ｏ⊙)

Gojo: ( ._. )

Gojo: …

Gojo: …pft.

You: …!

You forced yourself to chew faster, but expectedly, the thing that was supposed to be in charge of you and your brother burst into maniacal laughter.

“PWAHAHAHAHA!” 

“Mm…mf!” 

“Oh, man. I gotta take a picture.” He pulled out his phone. 

You wanted to say something, but there was too much stuff in your mouth! 

Gojo continued laughing between clicks and flashes until you started choking like a pelican who swallowed too big a fish. 

In an instant, he was behind you, arms wound tightly around your abdomen. “Please don’t die. It would be too pathetic!”

“Aurgh..!!!??” Translation: You think I wanna go like this, you a&%****!?

With one, strong squeeze, Gojo forced the food out of you. 

“That was close! Good thing I was here or who knows what would’ve happened.”

“...”

“Hm?”

“...”

“Not going to say anything? What’s wrong, nee-san?”

Feeling a vein near popping, you coughed out, “I believe I asked you not to call me that.”

“You’re so cold. Megumi and Kugisaki call you that. Even the second years!”

You had a couple of things to say, but considering that he technically saved your life, you opted to keep them to yourself. “Thank you for the help, now please let go. I’m going to clean this up.”

But as you said this, your knees buckled and his arms shifted to stop you from falling.

“Aw, don’t be like that.”

Whoosh

A giant knife flew towards Gojo, stopped only by his infinity. 

You both turned to find Yuuji standing by the door, panic and shock on his face as he gripped hard on his right arm responsible for throwing the blade. 

“I-I didn’t know how that happened, I swear!”

Sukuna spoke from his cheek. “You damn blue-eyed bastard. How dare you touch my wife so shamelessly?”

“Excuse me?! I just saved her from cho–” 

“Yuuji!” Embarrassed, you pushed yourself out of Gojo’s embrace and walked towards your brother. “Welcome home. Do you have any requests for dinner?”

“I’ve been craving curry rice since this morning.”

“I think we just ran out. I’llgocheckthestorageroom!” Flustered, you rushed out of the kitchen, forgetting your own mess. 

Yuuji quietly went to mop the food you choked out.

Gojo sighed. “Yuuji, what should I do, I don’t think your sister likes me.”

“Gojo-sensei.”

When Gojo met his student’s gaze, it held a surprising sharpness. “???”

“Thank you for taking care of us,” Yuuji’s normally cheery tone was flat as he spoke, “but please don’t bother my sister too much.” 

“???????”

Later that evening, in Fushiguro’s room…

Gojo: Megumi, why is everybody so mean to me?

Gojo: (˃̣̣̥ᴖ˂̣̣̥)

Megumi: Please leave. 

A/N: I tried to have more fun with this one so I was more liberal with my style. Anyway, I got a few more requests, the products are coming soon!

@shadowywizardarcade @hannya-exists @nineooooo @lilachaeyo @pumpkindudeishere @jessbeinme15 @fluffy-koalala @cringeycookies @frogzxch @isimpfordanielpark @marvelsgirl4ever @sanzusmom @sheccidoscar @marvelsgirl4ever @alastorhazbin @satosuguswife @lumaniii @leahlovesreading @blackstaw @nineooooo @boba--12

Other snippets of this au are found here.

[littlemisssquiggles]

Why did no one tell me about the little “omake” chapters of DandaDan?

I was today years old when I learned the existence of these little extra omake or bonus chapters of Dandadan that expand on what’s going on with some of the other DanDandan characters like the Aira and Evil Eye Jiji one for example.

I thought it quite cute that Evil Eye cared enough about Aira to help her with getting her old friends to start talking to her again. That was actually oddly sweet of him.

If I didn’t know any better, I’d say the Evil Eye might secretly have a widdle crush on Aira. Doesn’t have to be true. I mean it’s just me spitting here.

But I’d be lying if Evil Eye crushing on Aira is definitely feeding into my thoughts on Aira and Jiji eventually being a couple.

I DO LIKE the Jijira ship. I mean Dandadan got me wracking up new ships to love like Uno cards with each new arc.

Already I’m Team Momokarun - obviously. Otherwise why am I even here if not to suffer at the hands of Yukinobu Tatsu as he proceeds to write the most beautiful shoujo romance love story disguised as a shonen battle anime that the world has ever seen and taking his sweet ass time doing it too. That magnificent romantic bastard.

---

I’m Team Jijira - I just think they’re NEAT okay? Our secondary BAKAS IN LOVE potential couple next to Momokarun.

No seriously, I think these two can actually work really, REALLY well together if Aira would just come to her senses of seeing that Okarun is OBVIOUSLY in love with Momo and NOT her, get over him and redirect her interest to the guy who is actually always by her side more than Okarun. Meaning Jiji.

As for Jiji and where he stands on love and romance. To all the people who keep saying that Jiji is in LOVE with Momo, I raise you one important question? Where? Where is this love you keep insinuating that Jiji has for Momo?

Believe me, I have watched the anime. I have read the manga up to date and all I’ve seen so far is a good boy who just simply cares very deeply for his childhood friend and is very protective of her. Nothing more.

I mean Aira is more obvious with her feelings for Okarun than Jiji is for Momo.

I dunno man. The Momiji ship and its shippers is giving me Zutara from Avatar vibes. Ya’ll up in here painting this magnificent love story between these two characters and telling everybody who would listen about it but when you actually read the ACTUAL canon content, there is nothing to insinuate anything like that at all.

Then again, I might just be biased because even IF Jiji DID in fact have a crush on Momo … that means shit because WE KNOW Jiji will NEVER end up with Momo BECAUSE SHE IS IN LOVE WITH OKARUN AND HE LOVES HER TOO!

Not unless Tat-Tat writes an arc where there’s an alternative universe/ reverse time line type shit where Momo ended up with Jiji instead of Okarun due to weebly wobbly, timey wimey stuff.

And now thanks to Aira omake chapter with the Evil Eye, I have more reasons to believe that Jijira could be a possibility. Either way, my Jijira shipping heart has been fed.

---

I’m Team Vaminta: or Kintola? Whatever the official Vamola x Kinta ship is called. Doesn’t matter. Vamola is (literally) a queen and Kinta is her king. Nuff said!

My goat and baby girl deserve each other!

---

And finally; I’m Team Rinuma - yes, yes, I KNOW Rin and Zuma have yet to actually officially interact in the story but how can I NOT ship them prematurely. The girl with gravity powers making people float and the boy with the umbrella? C’mon it’s like poetry. The ship practically writes itself even if Tat-Tat hasn’t gotten there yet. I see the vision and I’m embracing it while I can; dagnabbit!

---

So yeah, those are my current favourite Dandadan ships. Returning to the omakes, I also enjoyed the Chiquitta one.

Did not know Chiquitta was attending school on Earth. I mean it would make sense since his father is currently working on Earth so that Chiquitta can get all the milk he can get to keep himself healthy and strong. Yeah makes perfect sense actually.

Loved the chapter showing Chiquitta protecting his classmates from older bullies. Like father, like son. Chiquitta got hands man! That’s our favourite kappa son!

Also Chiquitta imitating Jiji of all people when interacting with a girl is insanely cute. Of all the people for Lil Chiqui to copy, why Jiji of all people? Then again, better him that Kenta, am I right?

There’s also speculation now that the little girl that suspects Chiquitta to be an alien is actually related to Okarun.

Like she’s his little sister and that Okarun comes from a large family where possibly some of the background characters we’ve probably overlooked throughout the story may allegedly be related to our favourite Yokai speedster.

Personally I’m down for this theory since it’ll actually confirm Okarun as being from Earth instead of my crazy theory of him secretly being a member of a humanoid alien race who was abandoned on Earth at birth and raised by a human family or someting like that. .

Because we have yet to glimpse into what Okarun’s home life is as yet, it’s got me wondering if Okarun even has a family. I mean surely he has to have a home because in spite being a loner/outcast for most of his school life, Okarun is always well-clothed, well fed and stocked up on occult-related magazines.

So outside of the alien heritage theory, it wouldn’t surprise me if Okarun actually comes from a pretty wealthy family and the reason why he’s always seen ready and flexible to go off on his own without his parents wondering about his whereabouts is probably because Okarun’s parents/caretakers are probably living a life where they’re never home with him.

Perhaps Okarun’s parents work overseas and the reason for Okarun’s deep fascination with the occult is cause its related to his parents’ occupation.

Maybe his parents are archaeologists or astrologists or a pair of people who study these kind of things and often have to travel abroad for long periods of time while Okarun is left alone; unable to accompany them due to him attending school in Japan.

I mean, it would make sense why we haven’t seen them as yet in the story. To me, Okarun living alone because his parents work overseas sounds more plausible than them secretly being alien.

Perhaps the little girl who suspects Chiquitta of being an alien doesn’t necessarily have to be someone related to Okarun. Perhaps she’s his neighbour or something. Or maybe she doesn’t even know Okarun and is just someone related to Chiquitta’s side of the story.

On the subject of aliens, it would actually be pretty funny if Okarun’s parents were another pair of refugee aliens who have been living on Earth for years and thus Okarun is secretly an alien who was born and raised on Earth.

Like his parents brought him up on the occult to desensitize him to the existence of the alien race. Their race; although they never revealed the truth of their alien lineage to Okarun, wanting him to grow up believing himself to be just a “normal human boy on Earth” when he actually isn't.

I mean that’s another theory for the pool of possibilities.

If Okarun parents are indeed secretly aliens then imagine them being Ken Takakura fans as much as Momo is because his movies were the first thing they were exposed to once they came to Earth and thus they decided to take the surname of Takakura and named their Earth-born “alien” son, Okarun after him.

It would honestly be insane if there comes a time when Momo gets to meet Okarun’s parents and the first thing they bond over is their shared love for Ken Takakura.

That would actually be insanely cute.

Overall, these are just little headcanons. For all I know, there’s probably no twist to Okarun at all.

He could really just be a regular guy who, despite everything that life had thrown at him, lucked out and found the love of his life and the literal girl of his dreams when she just happened to be passing by on a bad day and noticed him for the first time.

That really could be just it.

Then again; who really knows.

We really have to see what Tat-Tat has cooking up in that noggin of his for this ongoing love story he's made.

The most I will say is that the longer the story drags on with us readers never seeing or knowing anything about Okarun’s homelife, the more this squiggle meister will start to believe that he’s secretly an alien until it’s debunked by the actual story.

~LMS (2025)