#and every time they hear him they just go 'where the hell are you from'

[shaisuki]

❝ THE WOLF I PICKED UP AS A STRAY IS A BUM.ᐟ CLINGY TOO! ❞

content warnings. hybrid toji, suggestive themes, nsfw under the cut.

wolf! toji that you picked up on one windy night. littered with cuts and one of his wolf ears are cut. probably from a fight and thus, you brought him home to take care until he's healed.

wolf! toji who took a liking to you. he never left your house and lives as a free loader who never offered to get a job to pay for the bills in exchange for living with you. he only stares at you. a mischievous glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk. “i'm guarding your house, sweetheart.” he said with a wink and you kind of wanted to slap the shit out of him.

wolf! toji that annoys the hell out of you. trying to get a rise and won't behave unless you threatened to kick him out which works but only for a certain amount of time and he's back on to you again.

wolf! toji beefy body with broad shoulders and everything about him screams big. menacing even with the scar in the corner of his mouth. his ears twitching and that sharp fangs that you knew can tear huge chunks of flesh from how he eats. his strength jaw can crush anyone with a single bite. despite all of that features of him, he didn't use it to intimidate you.

wolf! toji is a huge lazy bum. who sleeps most of the day and lays on the windows where sunlight streams and he's peacefully snoozing. who only wakes up when it's time to eat or to annoy you. messes up with your things and leave them for you to clean.

wolf! toji who can be surprisingly affectionate when you need it. his ears twitching when he senses you're in distress or particularly sad. his large palms patting your head and will sometimes hug you and let you cry on his shoulder. his huge fluffy tail gently wagging and you can hear it gently thumping.

wolf! toji who enjoys teasing you. pinching your round cheeks until they puffed out. chuckling as you slap his hand away and hears you grumbling. grabs your love handles and squeezing the supple flesh earning another rise out from you. hes careful not to scratch you up with his sharp nails.

wolf! toji who may have been slowly falling in love with his human. he didn't know where it started but he suddenly seeks your warmth in most times and starting to wonder what time will you get home from your work. repeatedly glancing at the clock and yawns from how bored he was without you. the longer you took, the more he hallucinates of you. your laugh bouncing on the walls. your presence at every corner of your home and just you.

wolf! toji who gets too possessive when you came home stinking of a male human. you didn't know cause you don't have super senses like him and you're just confused why he starts growling at you. immediately scenting you afterwards and pulling you close to his muscular body. squirming and writhing and going as far to punch him to get out of his grip didn't work. he didn't even budge.

wolf! toji growling at you from trying to move away from him. keeping a tight grip to your plush waist as he settled you on his lap. straddling him with your thick thighs and feeling the hardness of cock. rubbing between your clothed cunt. you can hear him grunting at the skin of your neck where your pulse is. “mine. you're mine.”

wolf! toji biting the skin to mark you as his. sharp canine teeth digging at your skin enough to bruise before licking it with his tongue to sooth you from the pain he had caused. nuzzling at your neck after that. inhaling your scent that without a doubt no trace of any other men beside him.

wolf! toji is grabbing your soft chin and he melts at the look in your face. the color of your eyes meeting with his own green ones and he loses at the sight of your parted lips. beckoning him to kiss you and he did. it was messy. all tongue and drool seeping on the corners of his mouth. lost in the feeling of your soft lips against his. giving you no time to reciprocate as he claimed you. grabbing the back of your head to deepen the kiss and burying yourself in the hardness of his body.

wolf! toji who breaks the kiss. licking the remnants of his spit and yours in his lips. his thumb caressing your round cheek. no words are said and it was clear that you belong to him and only him.

wolf! toji is now your partner. a clingy one and too overprotective who never left your side. acting as a guard dog whenever you two shop. growling and glaring to everyone who gets closer to you. baring his sharp canine teeth and snarls to someone who dares to approach you. he stands behind you. looking for any threats that may harm you. he can't have you being put in danger. that's what he reasoned when you scold him for being territorial and he brushes it off. he also likes his view when he's behind you.

wolf! toji who have no concept of personal space. he's almost your shadow now. follows you everywhere. in the kitchen where you cook, he standing behind you. watching you prepare a meal for him and yours. in the bathroom who insists that he should be there — what happens if you slip? no one will be there except for him. you sprayed him water once and he hates it but didn't deterred him. in the living room where either he's sprawled above you, crushing you with his weight or you on his lap while you finish a work.

wolf! toji is so handsy at you. grabbing whatever flesh he can get. kneading and squishing every part of your body especially your round belly where he grabs the malleable flesh. feeling it in his hand and loving the way it feels against his hand and then to your boobs. palming it every change he can get. you're his human-sized stressball.

wolf! toji that loves when you touch him. he may not say it but his tail says so. you teased him for it and he only grumbles. a slight blush dusting on his cheeks. he gives in when you scratch his head. his wears twitching and you hear that familiar sound of his tail wagging thumping against the floor. he gets so putty at your touch but he won't tell you.

wolf! toji who loves the closeness with your body and his. contrasting his hard ones with your softness. he likes it how feels against his and how it rubs against his skin when he fucks you senseless. plowing into your fat pussy like there's no tomorrow and being hypnotized from how your body jiggles beneath him.

wolf! toji that loves to eat your fat pussy. his tongue are perfect for it. it's wide and take your whole pussy lips in them. giving you broader and wider licks whole he catches your juices on his tongue. his tail wagging on response from how happy he is. tasting your sweet cunt of his mouth.

wolf! toji stretching you with his big, fat cock. folded you up in a mating press. drooling at the sight of your belly being squished and your fat pussy swallowing his cock whole. growling at the sensation of being buried in your wet, velvety heat.

wolf! toji who pounds in you with no tomorrow. fucking you in a wild abandon while he grabs your plush waist for better grip. the flesh spilling into his large palms. beads of blood surfacing where his sharp nails had digged into your skin. relishing into your moans and gasps.

wolf! toji who cums a lot. his thick warm cum seeping into the crevices of your awaiting womb. spurts after spurts of his cum being loaded inside of you. desperation evident from how badly he wants to fill you with his cum.

it's not the end for that not when wolf! toji who loves you very much. he ain't good, not kind either and pretty mean to you but he can be soft when he wants to. just with you though. he already claimed you, marked you. there's no running from him when he got you wrapped around his big, beefy arms. snuggling into you like there's no tomorrow and definitely not letting you go.

help your struggling writer with a coffee.

[keferon]

Well I just finished improvising chapter one of Mecha AU :D

I recommend you read it on BlueSky because the formatting and redacting there is better but you also can read it all here under the cut

Summary:

Jazz huddles in the cockpit, turns on the comm channel, and habitually ignores the static

“This is 1061. I don't know if you guys can hear me, but I have news. I've found other mechs in space! But..”

He taps nervously on the console panel

“I am not sure they're piloted by humans.”

---------

Jazz isn't sure at what exact moment his life turned into anime completely. It was probably when a huge monster appeared in the sky above his home? Yeah...it must have been then.

The big green thing blew up almost half the city before it was destroyed with so much explosives that the government probably had to empty their pockets to scrape together that much.

In the future, of course, they had to repeat the feat.

And then again.

And again.

Either the government of these monsters had a lot of extra money, or the monsters were free volunteers.

Jazz tried to watch from a distance. Ideally from a place where it would be hard to yank him out. Even with a stick. Even for a massive space monster.

%%%%

If you think about it. This wasn't anime yet. It was more in apocalypse film territory.

The anime started when a smiling man in a surprisingly expensive suit came to Jazz and offered to take a few tests to see if Jazz was suitable for some sort of special earth protection program of his. The pay was suspiciously good, and the list of medical forms was suspiciously long. But last week, a huge shark-like thing had trampled Jazz's last workplace and well...there wasn't much else for him to go to.

The man smiled and looked like a toothpaste advertisement as he shook his hand.

Yeah, the anime definitely started with that.

-----

It's actually amazing how a shitty thing like alien monsters and giant robots can become habitual. Maybe even beloved. Not monsters, of course. No.

But robots? Definitely.

Jazz is one hell of a pilot. One of the best, as his superiors like to say. They don't really have a way to test who's the greatest pilot in the world because the life span of the average pilot isn't usually very long. Jazz doesn't mind. He knows he's good, but he doesn't want to think about how good. Other pilots like to compete for the top of the charts. Numbers, kills, promotions and everything else that goes with it.

Jazz is mostly just vibing.

His early tests don't show very high or impressive potential for compatibility with combat mech technology, but once he's out of the simulator and into the real thing....

Jazz can't explain it. He just feels it. He just stops seeing the dashboard in front of him, stops thinking about how comfortable the pilot's seat is or how to hold the controls.

Jazz gets in the cockpit and stops being human.

Jazz gets in the cockpit and turns into metal and machinery. Rockets and joints. Hydraulics and thousands of sensors.

His hands become huge, able to crush a car. His legs gain new articulations. His body moves in ways completely impossible for a human and it feels so familiar, as if he's always been like this.

It feels like him. Like home.

Jazz isn't interested in promotions because important people aren't allowed to operate mechs. Not allowed to be mechs.

Jazz wants to be a mech.

He's just not ready to trade that feeling for anything else.

————

War gets crazier as time goes on.

Every time Jazz thinks it's going to end now, someone steps on Chekhov's gun in the ceiling.

The aliens aren't going to die out or leave.

Humans refuse to go extinct.

It's a tug-of-war that inevitably leads both sides to think that if they can't win with the ‘pull harder’ method, they should try something new. Something creative.

That’s how Jazz finds himself in the middle of developing a mech capable of travelling through space.

Because whoever is making the decisions up there has decided it's time to get more aggressive and start fighting on more than just their own territory.

The aliens have so far been too comfortable taking advantage of the fact that space is inaccessible to humans. They've always had places to retreat to. Places to hide to lick their wounds. Jazz thinks it makes sense. Sort of. If there's anything left in this world that respects logic.

The development department takes some time and an absolutely obscene amount of money to figure out how to launch a giant robot into space without the human inside it turning to paste.

They show an incredible ability to organize space and play a game of tetris where instead of blocks there are vital systems like air storage and provisions falling from the ceiling.

Jazz, as someone who has been forced to participate in hundreds of their tests and observe their tenacity, is genuinely proud of them.

His pride even overcomes the fact that they have been close to turning him into a paste more times than he is comfortable counting.

They stick him in hundreds of variations of different armor and plating and make him perform the same boring motions a million times to “make sure there's no risk of depressurization”.

Sometimes he's shoved to the bottom of a swimming pool and asked to perform mission simulations without coming out of the water. This is the only part of development that Jazz actually genuinely loves. Swimming is fun when you're metal and don't have to breathe.

%%%%%%%

At the end of the tests, Jazz is left with a hundred or so system upgrades, increased weight by almost half, nice new armor, and added height. His legs now have another joint in them. Some of the pilots complain that it hurts them to even look at Jazz's freakishly bendy legs, but their opinion fades under the weight of delight.

Jazz loves the new joints. New joints mean he can navigate even wackier surfaces now.

For the first official space mission, the superiors choose him without much hesitation.

Space is unfamiliar territory. And no matter how hard you try, you can't fully recreate its conditions without being there. This means that no amount of training and simulations can fully prepare pilots for what will be waiting for them there. They're going to have to adjust. Improvise. Find ways and solutions on the spot.

Jazz is good at that. Exceptionally and impressively good. He also has enough thirst for adventures in him to go along with the idea.

But most importantly, he's undeniably the best when it comes to controlling a battle mech. His ability to “ I don’t know I’m just vibing you know” is envy-inducing and wary at the same time. Mechs are huge and heavy, and in the hands of someone who doesn't fully know what to do, they're pretty damn clumsy.

Jazz is one of the few who can control a battle mech as naturally as his own human body.

In theory that means if he's thrown into a zero-gravity environment, he can handle it just fine. No worse than if he could do it without the mech. Or at least not fail dramatically enough to embarrass the entire engineering department.

Jazz promises to do his best, shakes all the hands necessary for pretty pictures, and uploads a file with simple instructions.

This mission shouldn't be anything too bizarre except for its location. He is warned that a lot can go wrong, but then immediately assured that a whole crowd of experts will be waiting and watching and will respond at his first call.

Jazz politely thanks them and does a few simple movements to make sure all the joints in his legs are working properly.

His boss smiles like he's advertizing toothpaste and promises him a nice big raise if he'll continue to work on space missions.

Jazz somehow manages to forget that this is where anime usually begins.

________________

Things are going very wrong very fast. Most unfairly, for a completely unexplainable reason.

Jazz is quite successful at getting around in space. The lack of gravity is incredibly uncomfortable at first, but he adapts. It takes time to understand the movement, but nothing beyond the plan.

At one point he even has fun. He spots a satellite orbiting the Earth and waves cheerfully at it, hoping it is recording.

He confidently completes the exploration and is about to turn back when something huge and possessing an uncomfortable number of limbs materializes in front of him literally out of nowhere.

He is surprised and a little disgusted, but the monster's appearance wasn't entirely unforeseen. His instructions are simple. Anything larger than an elephant and not a human being must become dead.

A fight with a strange space thing is no problem. The problem is that the thing is losing very quickly and is clearly panicking about it. Jazz is just about to rip another leg off of it when an unidentifiable bright green light flashes around them and suddenly the whole world starts to feel bloody wrong. Space feels like it's stretching and shrinking at the same time. Jazz can't tell if he's feeling the pressure or if he's being torn apart.

He's screaming. Not from pain, but from surprise.

And finds himself standing in the middle of a crowd of similar monsters.

The one he was just about to kill makes some gurgling, panicked noises. The other monsters freeze, either surprised or frightened, it's impossible to tell.

Jazz manages to notice that he's inside some kind of room. His brain finds no suitable alternative for a quick description. He has never been in such strange places before

He doesn't even have time to take a step when there's a muffled click from behind and he's blinded by the green light again.

He doesn't know what to expect when he opens his eyes.

The first time, the strange green light dragged him through every possible sensation in just a couple of seconds, and that was enough to scare the hell out of him.

The second time, it feels like it lasts forever. He tries to look at his watch, but his eyes refuse to work properly. Which ones of his eyes? He doesn't know. One overlaps with the other. He feels terribly tiny but at the same time it's like his body is everywhere at once. Somewhere in the far corner of his brain, flickers the thought that mixing experimental technology with obscure alien magic is a spectacularly bad idea. The amount of things that could go wrong wouldn't fit in any insurance policy, even if they were writing small text under a microscope. Who ‘they’ are, he's not imagining. His boss and his advertising teeth probably.

Jazz clenches his fists, closes his eyes, and tries his hardest to at least just not pass out. The Engineering Department will owe him so much pool time for all of this.

That's assuming he survives long enough to see the engineering department again.

He tries to focus on the simple things.

Everything around him feels like ‘WRONG’.

He can't breathe.

Maybe the urge to stay awake has been overrated.

He's falling.

*********

When he wakes up, the first thing he notices is cold hands on his head.

Someone is gently turning it, probably to examine him.

There are voices above him. He doesn't recognize them and can't distinguish what they're saying.

The palms of the hands are hard. They feel like they're made of metal.

He hears more voices.

For a scary second he worries his brain is broken, but the more he listens the more he realizes it's just another language.

A completely...unfamiliar language. Unlike anything he's ever heard before.

Hands move away and he chooses that moment to open his eyes.

Long time ago, he used to go to all sorts of movie and art fan festivals. There were always a lot of cosplayers trying to outdo each other in the art of character creation.

The picture that meets him is actually a surprisingly strong reminder of those times.

The people crowded around him are extremely colorful. Also quite small compared to his metallic body.

The strange thin lilac creature is saying something. It sounds questioning.

The other lilac creature shakes its head negatively and judging by its intonation redirects the question to someone else.

Jazz tries to figure out if the green light could have made him see things. Because it's unlikely the afterlife looks like this.

Someone very furry peeks out from behind the backs of the lilac creatures and authoritatively pulls out a thing that looks like a regular tablet. They poke at it for a couple seconds and then show everyone in the crowd a picture of some kind of robot simultaneously pointing at Jazz.

The crowd disagrees.

One of them says something poking Jazz with his hand. He wonders idly if it's the same hand. No, it's the wrong size.

The picture changes to a different one.

The effect is the same.

Another round of poking and prodding later, Jazz's fried brain gets it.

They're trying to figure out what he is.

Little colorful things. Probably never seen a robot like this before?

He doesn't have time to process the thought properly when the floor he's lying on starts to shake violently.

The creatures shriek in frustration and Jazz, who until then had been sure he was in some kind of building, suddenly realizes that. Oh, shit. No. The surface is moving.

Is he being taken somewhere???

Jazz looks around in confusion, trying to figure out who it belongs to.

He makes an attempt to jump to his feet and all the creatures crowding around him all start screaming at the same time. He doesn't understand it, but it sounds hysterical, angry and so damn unpleasant to his poor head. Someone shrieks and from somewhere to his left there are sharp clicks and the floor shakes and Jazz wants to go back to the bottom of the pool where it's dark and quiet and

Someone picks him up under his elbows from behind. Not exerting much pressure or holding him down. Just offering support.

A new voice comes from the back of the room. Louder and much lower than all the previous ones and, notably...not from the floor.

And meets the gaze of another giant robot.

__________________________

Side note: to those of you who went to hang out with me while I was writing. Thank you hejdhfngn I appreciate the company❤️

Oh by the way I’m in the process of writing the Mecha pilot au right now you can read if you want :D

[blackknight-kai]

Wukong and Cat

I just think it would be funny to see Wukong dealing with a house pet. Specially a cat. (Maybe a dog but that’s not the point today) - In this Wukong can travel to the modern day to stay with you (before you fully commit to staying in the past with him Edit: yes taking the cat with you).

See, cats are…cats. Yes they can be skittish or friendly, mean or weird as hell. They come in all shapes and sizes both in body and personality. They consistently push boundaries - keeping them off counters am I right? And sometimes as the slightest change they do awful shit to tell you it displeased them - pissing outside the litter box because you moved it a few feet from where it normally is or got rid of their favorite chair.

Cats are entitled and they run the house. You ever been hounded by a cat that woke up from its nap and thinks it’s dinner time but they don’t eat for another 3 hours? Yeah it’s annoying. (We love them)

They are our mini gods basically.

Wukong would NOT do well with one at first.

It doesn’t listen to him, it gives him dirty looks 24/7, he doesn’t know what the hell it’s up to or thinking but he knows it’s plotting harm to him, he knows it’s mocking him as it watches him form its perch across the room. The damn thing even had you on a feeding schedule!!! It OWNS you!

But it will not own him. No. He is a free monkey. A KING! The Great Sage Equal to Heaven and Earth! No house pet will have dominion over him.

You even buy it toys it seems to play with 1 time before and never again. You spoil the ungrateful shit. It also sleeps with you, but not since he came along much to his pleasure. Yes furry asshole, that’s HIS spot now.

He finds it ridiculous that you even scoop up its fucking shit that it leaves for you. At the very least it covers it up but why are you its designated poop scraper? He doesn’t understand why it doesn’t shit and piss outside like every other animal. He may be a king but he’s never had anyone shovel his shit!

So when you ask him to help with the house chores one day, specifically handling the litter box and trash, he is taken aback. Him? Use the tiny shovel to scrape out its excrement? Oh absolute not. Hell no. Not on your life.

He is a KING. He does NOT shovel SHIT. No. He doesn’t budge until you glare at him. He can tell you’re getting annoyed and he doesn’t like it when you’re mad at him.

Wukong, thinking he’s being a genius summons a clone and decides the clone can handle the shitty sand. But then the clone also refuses. Starts arguing with him! The audacity! This goes on for several minutes, neither clone or original giving in until you come into the room having heard the heated conversation.

You tell him with a tone of finality to stop being a monkey cub and grow up, that if he doesn’t sift the litter by the time you come back he’s sleeping on the couch - one night for every turd and pee clump you find in that box. You stomp off to finish the laundry and Wukong & Clone look at the doorway with slight surprise. Clone snickers and gives Wukong a smirk, saying “Looks like our Queen has spoken, the King is on turd duty.” Before offing himself and disappearing with a cackle as Wukong curses his own cheekiness.

After several minutes of staring at the box with disgust he hears you walking through the house and his heart races. Quickly he grabs the weird little shovel and starts sifting, as you step into the room he smiles at you as if to say “See I’m a good boy” and you give him a look before going back to your own chores.

Wukong doesn’t DARE push you enough to ruin his nightly cuddles with you. No. Nothing is worth losing that. So he scoops the damn cats box and as he does so he hears tiny footsteps. Looking over he sees your cat watching him, as though supervising him. It pisses him off to no end that the house pet is looking at him so smugly. “Who’s the king now.”

Grumbling under his breath Wukong finishes his task and finally stands up straight. As he does so he looks at the furry animal. “Is it clean enough your highness?” He asks sarcastically but then his eyes widen as the cat steps towards the box.

To his utter annoyance and anger it takes a shit! RIGHT AFTER HED JUST CLEANED IT OUT? HOW DARE!!!!

He throws a tantrum he will deny to this day about it to you and you laugh saying that yeah, that happens almost every time. It infuriates him to no end. But he loves you and you love the cat. So he can’t do anything that would bring the little asshole harm or he’d risk losing you which is NOT an option.

He hates the damn thing so much.

But one day, while he’s napping on your couch, he wakes to a weird rumbling on his chest. Groggily he opens his eyes and lifts his head a little and is met with the sight of your cat curled up on his chest, eyes half lidded and watching him, its purring. He lays his head back down and tries to be annoyed by it. But the damn purr is soothing….it’s genuinely kinda nice. And his chest is warm. If he ends up stroking your cats fur making it purr louder until the two of them fall back asleep? That’s between him and cat.

[ashwhowrites]

Hello, I love your stories and I hope you can make my fun request

Can you do Eddie Munson x Death fem reader

So hear me out let's say there in the upside down (11 and everyone isn't in California there in Hawkins and in the upside down with them and while they where chilling out in the upside down when Steve got hurt all of the sudden they heard whistling and turned and see a badass fem reader and walked up to 11 and starts toying with her (just like the wolf from puss and boots yk Death and when they figured out she's actually death they somehow get her a change of heart (after she tried to kill 11 and showed off her power a bit) and her and Eddie fall in love or Eddie falls first.

Sorry if it’s long

This was actually so fun and I loved writing the Death character. So if anyone else loves it, feel free to request ( once they are open ) for more death reader. I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it! Thank you for requesting 🫶🏻

Death was inspired by Rio from Agatha all along, won't lie. But the Death character is NOT Rio. If that makes sense. Just don't think Aubrey plaza is the reader because she's not, just was an inspiration so I wanted to give the credit to that.

Lady Death

"I FUCKING hate these bats," Steve growled. Nancy sat on her knees as she tried to cover Steve's wounds.

"What the hell is this place?" Eddie asked once he caught his breath. All he knew was that he jumped off a boat and was in a hell pit.

"The upside down," El said. She was looking around, almost like she felt the presence of something no one had seen yet.

"Oh great, so I have to fight to survive in the normal world, and now I have to survive in this sewer-type place? And this girl has powers?" Eddie asked frantically. He knew somewhat of everything that was going on, he just didn't believe it was a real place.

"Dude, I've already told you all of this!" Dustin argued.

"No offense, kid. But I figured you were full of shit!'" Eddie spat.

"Guys! Quiet," El demanded. Everyone went silent as they looked at her. She closed her eyes, trying to feel what was wrong. "There's something here," she whispered.

"Yeah, flesh-eating bats!" Steve hissed.

Before anyone could say anything, El was flung across the ground.

"EL!" Mike shouted, running over to her. But before he could come in contact with her, she was evaluated into the air. The gang watched in horror as she seemed to be held up by her throat, by an invisible force.

"What's going on?" Robin panicked. Nancy worked faster to clean up Steve.

The sound of someone whistling filled their ears. The gang all turned to see a woman walking towards them. She was dressed in a skin-tight green bodysuit, holes on the sides that showed skin, a green crown on her head, and a dangerous smirk playing on her lips.

Everyone stared at her in fear and awe. She was incredibly beautiful, but nothing alive behind her eyes.

"Poor little El, not so strong anymore, huh?" The lady mocked, she flicked her wrist and El fell to the floor. Mike raced over to her, this time able to collect her body in his arms.

"Who are you?" El asked, panting as she took air into her lungs.

"She's Death," Eddie said in awe. Everyone looked at him shocked, how did he know who she was?

Even she was surprised. She was fast, appearing in front of Eddie in seconds as she gripped his neck. Eddie tried to cover up the fact that he was incredibly turned on by her harsh touch.

"Who are you?" she questioned, Eddie blushed under her studying eyes. She took in every inch of his face, something about him was familiar.

"Edward Munson," he choked out. The gang didn't move an inch, staring at the two.

"How do you know who I am?" She released his throat to allow him to speak. She flicked her wrist and everyone in the gang was thrown to the ground. They were stuck, not able to move a muscle.

Eddie was a little scared, looking at his friends and some people he barely knew trapped under her power.

"I've read about you. You collect souls, right? El was supposed to die from Vecna but she escaped. Unfinished business and now you have to finish her," Eddie explained, "am I right, Y/N?"

Y/N stepped away from the boy. She felt uneasy that he seemed to know everything. No one was supposed to know who she was until she took their soul, of course.

With her distracted, the gang ran over to El. El was quick to use her own powers, sending Y/N in the air and harshly crashing into the ground. Her head hit the ground with a thud and her body went still.

"LET'S GO!" Steve yelled, the gang nodded and all ran to make their escape. Eddie went to follow but when he took a look at Y/N's limp body on the floor, he stopped.

"Eddie, come on!" Dustin said, gesturing his hands to show that everyone was leaving.

"We can't just leave her," Eddie argued, against his better judgement he walked towards her.

"You said it yourself, she's Death. I think she's capable of handling a bump on the head," Mike sassed. He was annoyed that Eddie seemed to care about a stranger that was more than willing to kill El.

Eddie ignored Mike's words, kneeling down as he rolled her body over. There was a gash on her head, blood running down the side of her face. Eddie didn't have anything on him to help, but he ripped the end of his shirt and tied it around her head. He watched as his white shirt began to stain with her blood, but he didn't mind.

She couldn't die, he knew that. But he wouldn't feel right leaving her behind with no help at all.

~~~

It's been a few days since the encounter with Death, and she was in everyone's head ( just for different reasons.) El thought of her as a new enemy and most of the gang were terrified to know they were that close to Death.

But she was in Eddie's mind for a different reason. When he was younger he loved reading about death and what happened in the afterlife. He learned what death was, who death was. She's been around for centuries but never aged. Still the beautiful girl, who lost her soul too young.

Eddie often felt a connection to her. She didn't have a family, or any friends. People were scared of her, banished her, leaving her alone for years and years. She was like Eddie and Eddie was just like her. He was alone and banished in his own way, but they had much in common.

He couldn't leave her behind because he understood the pain of being alone. The pain of everyone running away, terrified. He wanted her to feel cared about for once.

Something about Eddie humanized her in a sense. She hadn't felt anything in her body since she died. She didn't feel emotions, her heart, not even her lungs. But when she was near him, touching and seeing him, she felt a beat in her chest. A flutter in her stomach.

Her body felt alive

She was able to trace where he lived from the property of his shirt. She carried the blood stained shirt in her hand as she walked through the woods, looking for his trailer park.

She felt that same beat in her chest as she walked past a small trailer. Random chairs in the front and an ash tray by the door. She walked away, the beat in her chest decreasing. With furrowed eyebrows, she walked backwards, the beat increased.

"Well look at that, having a heart is good for something," she scoffed, turning in the direction of the trailer.

She didn't knock, using her powers to fling the door right off the hinges.

Eddie was brushing his teeth when he heard his front door slam a wall.

"Shit!" He swore through his foamy mouth. He figured a big gust of wind blew through the door but when he came out, he saw Y/N standing in his house. His toothbrush hung from his mouth as he stared at her in shock.

"On-mf-e-sec-mff," he said through the foam. He turned and raced back in his bathroom to spit out the paste and rinse his mouth. He jumped when Y/N appeared behind him.

"Um, hi," Eddie said, staring at her reflection. She stood tall behind him, peaking over his shoulder. Her hair was down, framing her face. She was in her death clothes, the tight bodysuit making him gulp.

"You gave me this," she spoke bluntly. She held his shirt, hanging from her fingertips. He turned around and grabbed the shirt, tossing it to the floor.

"Thanks for bringing it back," he smiled. She flinched as she felt her heart race. But recovered with a smile.

"You're welcome," she said, turning around and walking out. Eddie followed, confusion on his face.

"Wait, where are you going?" He asked, moving to cut her off. Her body slammed against his and she stepped back. Her face stone cold.

"I dropped off the shirt. That's all that needed to be done," she said. Eddie frowned, thinking about how the only time she's in someone's presence is to kill them.

"Hey, you know you can be around people for fun, not just take their souls," the comment sounded like he was a dick but he was genuine about it. He closed the door and moved to his couch, patting the seat next to him.

She eyed him, moving cautiously and sitting next to him. "Well, thank you," she smiled. "And thank you for helping me."

"You don't have to thank me. I promise my friends are kind people, they just had to fight for their lives a few too many times," Eddie sadly laughed.

"You haven't?" She asked, Eddie could feel her eyes. He turned his head to look at her, trying not to get lost in her eyes.

"I have, I just understand how it feels to be the one that's left behind. I've studied you my whole life and you're not as scary as the books made you seem."

Y/N was in awe of the softness he showed and offered her. She couldn't remember when was the last time she got to be in someone's company.

"And by far more beautiful in person," he said, softer and quieter than before. Her heart fluttered and she felt her skin getting warm.

She felt shy, moving her head to hide away but his hand reached out. She jumped slightly at the feeling of his hand on her warm cheek. The eye contact felt intense, like she was in a trance and unable to look away. She didn't want to anyway, she wanted to stare at him all day long.

"You know, since you brought back my shirt. I think I owe you for your kindness," he whispered. Her stomach flipped as a small smile formed on his face. His perfect pink lips stretched as his white teeth were on display. She turned her head to the side, questioning him.

"You hungry?" He asked, "for food not souls." He clarified. She couldn't help but giggle at his words.

"I could eat," she smiled. He smiled back, standing up and grabbing her hand. He was prepared to go right out the door but then he stopped.

"Would you maybe feel more comfortable in..uh-" he stuttered, still feeling the effects of her suit clinging to her body and showing off her figure. "Comfier clothes?"

"What are the options?"

~

"Steve, if I hear you moan and bitch about the bats one more time, I will cut you myself," Robin threatened.

"I'd like a little support here! I could've died!" Steve argued. Nancy laughed to herself as the two began to argue. Jonathan had his arm thrown around her shoulder, looking down at the menu.

Eddie walked in, his hand in hers as he looked around for an open table. He was shocked to see Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan at a table.

Steve looked up and his eyes locked on Eddie, and then the girl next to him. Eddie gave him a small wave but turned the other direction, leading Y/N. They sat at a table, with her back to his friends.

Steve raced over to their table, he wanted to see if his eyes were seeing things. But as he made it to them, his eyes were right. Eddie was holding hands with Death.

"Can I talk to you?" Steve asked, his eyes on Eddie.

"One second," Eddie said, softly kissing her hand before he let go.

The two huddled over to the side, Steve whispering harshly.

"Are you insane?"

"She's still a person!" Eddie argued

"She's a killer, Eddie. You can't just get sucked into her looks. She's evil."

"She's not! It's a job. She doesn't kill randomly. She only goes when she's called. There's some human inside of her, I'm going to bring it out. She just needs someone to show her" Eddie explained.

"You are going to risk yourself and all your friends because you want to find the human in her?" Steve scoffed, "I don't believe there's any human in her," Steve looked over at the table. She sat drumming her fingers as she twirled a knife in the air with her powers.

Eddie sighed, knowing she wasn't helping his case.

Steve noticed a look in Eddie's eyes. He was desperate and he had this soft look when his eyes cast over her.

"You fell for her already, didn't you?" Steve chuckled. It was nice to see Eddie had a romantic side to him. Steve remembered the feeling of falling in love for the first time.

"Yes," Eddie sighed. "Which I know is crazy but trust me, she came to my house and do you know how easily she could have killed me if she wanted to?"

Steve sighed, he nodded his head. Sometimes he hated being a good friend.

"Well," he puffed, landing his hand on Eddie's shoulder, "Enjoy your date. And the gang will need to hear all about it."

The hand that was on Eddie's shoulder was suddenly ripped off. Steve cried out as his arm was bent backwards behind his back and slammed into a wall.

"Y/N!" Eddie hissed, taking her body off of Steve's.

The rest of the gang looked at the commotion, fast on their feet to run to Steve.

"Sorry!" Y/N said, a look of shock in her eyes. "I felt something burn in my body and lost it."

"From what?" Steve asked, his eyes huge as he sassed the girl, who he now noticed was dressed in Eddie's clothes.

"You touched Eddie," Y/N shrugged. She wasn't exactly sure herself.

"What's going on?" Robin asked. Quickly looking Death up and down, which didn't go unnoticed by Eddie. He snapped his fingers and Robin looked at him.

"Well," Steve said as he rubbed his arm, "looks like Eddie and um Y/N here are on a date."

The gang were shocked, not sure what to say.

"And she's the jealous type," Steve added through his clenched teeth.

"I'll stop by later and talk yeah? I'd like to enjoy my date," Eddie said as he slipped his hand into hers.

"Uh sure," Nancy said, still giving the two a weird look. Jonathan kept quiet, but he was just as confused.

The gang walked back to their table, Robin looking over her shoulder as the two sat back down.

"How the hell did he manage to swing her? She's way too hot for him," Robin scoffed.

"Oh little Rob, we'll get you your own little Death lover," Steve teased.

~~~

Within a few months, Y/N was around more often. She was glued to Eddie's side whenever she could be. Eddie loved it. He loved always having someone on his arm, and he wasn't mad about the kisses that were always placed on his skin.

The gang accepted her, a little on edge at times but she was mostly harmless. It was clear that the two were head over heels for each other in their own ways.

The times she was called to do her work, Eddie waited in his trailer. His heart warming when she appeared back within minutes, claiming she missed him.

Then she'd slide in his lap, Eddie's hands landing on her hips. He rubbed his thumb against her skin, thankful for the holes in her suit. He was guilty of getting hard whenever he saw her dressed in her suit. She was Death so of course she was mean about it. Rocking her hips against him as she slowly kissed his lips.

She was his and he was hers.

Who knew Death could make someone feel so alive.

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37 @bellaisswagger @arlxt @ineedmentalhelp123

[kbbueckers]

house party

characters: caitlin clark x reader

overview: caitlin punches your homophobic and toxic ex boyfriend, tiny bit of fluff at the end

warnings: tiny bit of angst, tiny bit of blood, violence, homophobia from ex

caitlin has been your girlfriend for about two or three years, you and caitlin were at a house party because you begged her to go with you for weeks, and she finally agreed. turns out the begging wasn't even worth it, you weren't having fun. the music was bad, there was no food, and your ex was here. 

"i'm gonna go get a drink, kk?" you laid her down on the couch as she whispered something you didn't really hear. as you were refilling your cup, the one person you've been trying your best all night to avoid came up to you. 

jay was your boyfriend back before you even knew you were a lesbian. once you realized, you broke up with him because "the spark was gone." atleast that's how you worded it. he really never got over it, and still tries to hit on you every now and then. 

"you've been avoiding me, haven't you?" he asked, leaning against the door frame. you at first thought to not even reply, but you knew that would only make the situation worst. "if you know someone's avoiding you, why come up to them?" you went to walk away before he grabbed your arm, convincing you to stay.

"i've missed you." he attempted to touch your hair before you slapped his hand away. without your knowledge, caitlin had followed you through the crowd and saw the whole interaction with him.

caitlin was extremely overprotective, she has always made attachments to people easily, especially you. ever since you started dating, caitlin wouldn't let you out of her sight. either following you everywhere like a little puppy dog, or dragging you everywhere she went, you thought it was cute. 

"is he bothering you?" she asked. coming up behind you, and grabbing you waist to pull you back from him. caitlin knew your history with him. you always used to tell her whether you found out you were gay or not you still would've eventually ended things with him.

he treated you horribly the whole relationship. when you used to live with him in his apartment, anytime he got the slightest bit of angry, even if it wasn't your fault, he would kick you out. there were many nights where you had to knock on friends doors asking can you stay the night.

caitlin was one of those friends. you would cry to her many nights about how you couldn't do this anymore, and how bad he would make you feel. she always thought you deserved better, and now you had better.

you shake your head no. saving jay the trouble, knowing she could, and would, beat his ass. "this is none of your business." he starts to get defensive with caitlin, deciding to start trouble even though she's about a foot taller than him. 

"i'm her girlfriend, and it seems like you're bothering her, so it is my business." caitlin starts to get louder, and all up in his face. not sure if it was the alcohol or what, but she was ready to fight.

"oh so you're kissing girls now?" he turned to you in surprise. "that's none of your business." you replied. "man just leave her alone, she clearly doesn't wanna speak to you." caitlin brushed him off, turning around back to me as we both started to walk away. before we were able to walk away fully, jay muttered something.

"whatever, fuckin' homos"

what. the. hell. 

you and caitlin both stopped in your tracks, before you could even turn around to stop caitlin from doing whatever she was about to do, she turned around quick, serving a punch to jay's nose. he made a loud sound on the ground from falling, taking a few chairs with him, and the whole keg of beer, causing everyone to turn around in shock.

"come on baby, let's go." caitlin tugged your arm a few times before pointing to the door, turning around like she didn't just punch your ex boyfriend in the nose.

you nodded as you turned around to see jay's friends helping him up off the ground, his nose bleeding bad, and a puddle of beer forming around him. everyone around us was staring at caitlin, muttering and whispering, but she didn't care as we walked out of the house and into the cold. caitlin's arm around your shoulders, holding you tighter than when you first walked in.

caitlin was driving home in silence with her hand resting on your thigh, you couldn't help but notice the small red spots on her knuckles.

"are your hands okay?" she shook her head. "i'm good baby, thanks."

even though caitlin told you her hand was fine, once you got home you insisted on putting some ice on it and wrapping it. you were sitting on her lap and holding her fingers while dabbing the ice on them lightly.

"i'm sorry for punching him." she spoke up. you shook your head. "no, no. i wanna thank you. he definitely won't mess with me anymore." caitlin nodded. "why didn't you tell me he was bothering you?" caitlin wrapped her arms around your waist as she pulled you closer. you shrugged your shoulders in response "i didn't want this to happen." 

once you were finished wrapping her fingers, caitlin got both you and her ready for bed before you cuddled up against each other,  resting from the long night you just had. 

this kinda sucks but i've been working on it all afternoon and im tired, really hope you enjoy.

tips on how to improve my writing are greatly appreciated

-kbbueckers💋

[ephie-om]

You lounge in a beanbag chair in Levi's room, engrossed in a manga he's insisted you are only allowed to read where he can keep an eye on you, lest you mess up the pages. At the moment, however, he's neck-deep in a failing raid in one of his MMOs. Over the course of the past ten minutes, you've watched his stress levels rise and rise as his tail erratically twitches and tenses with every dodge. You hear the tinny voices of his teammates through his headset, calling out instructions and strategies. Levi himself has been largely quiet, which to them might mean he was focused, but you knew it meant he was about to blow.

You adjust your position enough to get a view of the screen just in time to see the massive warrior's sword cleave through his teammates, downing one of them. A game sprite surrounded by a blazing yellow light- a healer, you would guess- tries to run towards the slowly crawling form but is stopped in his tracks by a tentacle rising from the ground. You watch the revive timer slowly tick down, and Levi finally breathes in. Here he goes, you think, and tuck the manga in your arms to protect it from his rage.

"Dodge through," he says, quiet but firm. "Astaroth, you need to dodge through that gap to your left." The healer moves and finally manages to get to his teammate. "Saleos, there's a couple frames after that beam attack where the boss is invincible, so don't waste any attacks on her. Focus on positioning yourself to attack once her defense drops." You sit up, enraptured by this new side of Levi. Suddenly it made sense to you why he never seemed like the Grand Admiral of Hell's Navy; he never had a reason to in everyday life. But here, he could strategize, give orders, boost morale. No wonder this was where he thrived.

The voices on his headset have gone much quieter once they realize following his orders will win them the battle. It continues on for a few more minutes with Levi peppering in instructions where needed, and an occasional "Good job; great timing on that attack." Finally the health bar turns black, the boss staggers, drops her sword, and falls. Cheers erupt from the headset, but Levi is quiet once again. Confused, you get up to look at him, only to find his face split by a grin. "Well done everyone, really. We need to have these classes more often, the synergy is what took her down in the end." He says his goodbyes and the headset finally comes off. He stands up to stretch, turns his head just enough to see you, and screams. "H-how long have you been standing there?? What, like you've never seen a raid before?" His tail lashes back and forth, agitated. There was the Levi you knew.

You laugh. "That was amazing. You were amazing, Levi. I've never seen you do that before." A blush floods his neck and face and you swear even his scales turn a deeper magenta.

"That's just what I'm supposed to do, I mean, I'm the highest level in the party, of course I would know the most about the mechanics, they were expecting me to say something anyway-"

"You must be proud of yourself."

He stops in his tracks. "Proud?" You nod encouragingly. Almost subconsciously, his posture straightens. He smooths his hair back into place and relaxes his shoulders. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am pretty proud of that." You smile at him again, glad he found something he could admit he was good at. "But d-don't expect me to let you in here again if you're going to stare at me all creepy!"

[the-universal-sun]

little stan crying for his mom and ford/fidds having to try and comfort him 🤞🤞🤞🤞

Nonny, I had a hard time deciding on whether I wanted to do Ford or Fidds as Stan’s caregiver, but I decided there wasn’t enough Stan and Fidds! Forewarning, there is mention of death of a loved one and some minor cursing! So, please don’t read if this is sensitive, uncomfortable, or triggering for you!

Stanley’s had a rough day. No scratch that, he’s had a rough week. No, scratch that, he’s had a rough life. But he thinks today might just take the cake for how damn shitty his life is. He got a call from Shermie today, technically Ford did because he, Stanley, is literally dead to his family. And now normally he likes his calls with Shermie, the updates on his nephew and his eldest brother's life are a nice reprieve from the tourists and the portal work, but he wishes he never picked up the phone today. Shermie didn’t call to update him on his son's college life or how California is. He called to tell him that mom passed. Their mom. His mom. She’s gone, going into the ground and he’ll never see her again. Hug her again, never talk to her again. Or taste her Latkes, she’s never going to send him Sufganiyots every holiday season.  He’s never going to be around his Ma’ ever again. He hasn’t been around her since the fake funeral, and now he’ll never get the chance to again.

He slid down the wall he balanced himself on when he first heard the news, the telephone hanging by the cord, he didn’t even realize he dropped it, were his hands shaking? He’s on the floor, but his knees still feel so weak, why? He lifts his shaking hands up to his face, wiping off the tears that keep streaming down his face, his white shirt already darkening where the missed tears hit. His chest hurt and his head felt tight, or was that the other way around? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t think. He doesn’t want to think. He can’t think. He just wants his mama, to be held in her arms again like he used to, before he got too big and grown up to be held and rocked, with her stories and lullabies. He can’t even stifle his sobs, and he hates himself for it because he’s a man and men don’t cry. He didn’t cry when Flbrick passed. Hell, he didn’t even show up to the funeral, so why is he sobbing like a baby now?

“Stanford? Stanford are you there? I-I know this is a lot to process, but I need your help planning her funeral. Can you-” At Shermie’s mention of a funeral, Stan let out a wail before he clasped his hands over his mouth, not wanting to alert Fidds or Shermie to his aching chest and furthering fuzzy head. He’s so in his head that he doesn’t hear Fiddleford’s footsteps or register his voice.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“Stanley, are you alright? I heard a noise an’ I-” Fiddleford stops short at the scene in the kitchen. He takes a moment to process what he’s seeing. Stanley’s sobbing on the floor with the phone off the hook. He can hear someone’s tinny voice coming through the hanging phone. He walks over to Stan, kneeling down and trying to see his face.

           “Stan? Hon, are you alright? What happened?” He asks quietly, voice panicked. Is Stan hurt? He doesn’t see anything indicating that, and Stan’s usually so strong against pain, he’s only seen him cry when regressed….Oh dear. Oh this isn’t good. Stan was having a good day, a really good one, until he briefly stepped away from dinner to take a phone call and now he’s on the floor sobbing and most likely regressed. Fiddleford pulls at his hair, not as hard as he used to before Stan but still hard enough to get him to focus. Focus and be calm is what he needs to do. He’s a Father, a Big Brother, and a Caregiver, he can deal with tears. He can do this. He takes a deep breath in, exhales it out, and stands up, grabbing the phone on his way. He’s going to see who and what just upset his baby.

“Stanford! C’mon man! I need you to talk to me here-” Fiddleford heard from the telephone receiver as he brought it up to his ear.

“Dr. McGucket, who do I have the pleasure of speaking to?” He asked coldly, not liking the angry tone of the man on the other end. This is the one who probably upset his Pumpkin, and he will not stand for that yelling or anything as such directed towards his family. It doesn’t matter who the man on the other end is, he will shut down any and all attempts to strong arm or deride Stanley.

“Dr. Mc-What it? Listen, I need to speak with Stanford right now, so just-put him back on the phone. It’s important family stuff, so, none-ya-business-” came the irritated reply from the man steadily making an enemy out of a one Fiddleford Hadron McGucket.

“I’m Stan’s research partner, Dr. Fiddleford McGucket, and Stanford is currently-” he looks down at his boy, still sobbing, but now wrapped around his legs, and his eyes softened, “-indisposed at the moment. I assure you, Sir, that I’ll be sure to relay any messages back to him. Now, I ask again, who are you and what’s your business with Stan?”

“It’s Shermie, his big brother. Listen, I’ll call back whenever he’s not uh- “indisposed”-” Fiddleford can just hear the air quotes, “and all. Just let him know that I need help with Ma’s funeral, okay, Dr. Whatever? Bye.” Fiddleford hears that dial tone and his heart feels heavy in his chest. Oh no, oh his poor, poor baby. He loved his mama so much, always smiled for hours after talking to her, and now she’s-

Fiddleford lowers himself to kneel beside Stan, whose arms are still wrapped around his leg, and gently lifts his face to look at him. He sees Stan’s tear stained face, his lips in the biggest and wobbliest frown he’s ever seen on his boy's face and he finds himself at a loss for words.

“Oh Honey, I’m so sorry about your Ma’.” Is the only thing he can think to say at the moment.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hearing those words, Stan feels the ache in his tummy get worse, his throat burns, and he can’t stop the new tears as they go down his face. He wasn’t dreaming it or thinking wrong, if Fidds’ is saying that, then Mama must really be gone, but he doesn't want her to be gone! He wants to hug his Mama now!

He buries his head in Fidds’ chest, sobbing so hard he finds it hard to breathe. He knows he’s gettin’ tears an’ snot on Fidds’ nice white shirt, but he doesn’t say anything. He just rocks them and rocks them, and pats his back and talks to him. Stan can’t hear what he’s saying, but he always likes to hear his voice, Stan’s always found it so nice to listen to his Fidd speak to him, even though he can’t understand what he says.

He feels Fidds chest rise and fall in a big way, and matches it because Fidds taught him that to calm him down when he’s feeling these big emotions, when he can’t swallow and his tummy hurts like it does now. He looks up at Fidds, and he can’t say what the look on his face is, but it makes Stan's tummy ache worse, so he just buries his face in the shirt again.

He feels himself being lifted up and walked somewhere. He doesn’t want to walk anywhere, but his knees were hurting sitting down, so he guesses this is fine. He blinks when a bright light turns on and he’s sat down. They’re in the bathroom? He sniffles, bringing his hand up to rub his eyes and looks around, he’s confused on why they’re here, he doesn’t want to take a bath. He doesn’t want to do anything but lay down with Poindexter and cry and miss Mama. Except he doesn’t want to do that either because it hurts to cry and miss her, it always does, but there’s no more calling her when he misses her any more because she’s gone! His lips wobble and he can feel the tears in his eyes again, but he doesn’t want to cry again, he’s a big boy and big boys don’t cry! Stan startles when he feels a warm and wet washcloth gently touch his face, wiping away his snot and tears. He looks at Fidds, who’s kneeling in front of him with a serious look on his face.

“Now, Stanley, I know what you’re going through is hard. It’s the toughest thing anyone can go through, so it’s alright to cry. Ah!” Fidds cuts off when Stan shakes his head, “None o’ that, Love Bug, crying is healthy and good for the soul. Lord knows I’ve done enough crying to know how it can feel like a release. So it’s okay to cry, you loved your Ma’, and it’s a painful feeling, that loss. I lost my momma when I was about to graduate high school, and it was the hardest thing I’ve been through. I cried like a baby every day for weeks. Does that make me less of a man?” Stan quickly shook his head, feeling dizzy from the force of it. Fidds was one of the manliest people he knows (excluding the entire Corduroy family), he’s super duper smart, and he can cook, and he can chop woods, and Stan saw him tackle a Deer once! Fidds is so cool, smart, and manly!

“Exactly, crying is nothing but a human emotion, and you’re a human, you can let yourself feel your emotions, Stanley. I promise you, I will not make fun of you, no teasing, no nothing of the sort, ya’hear?” Stan nods his head, “Good. It’s okay to grieve, I want you to grieve, I want you to remember your Ma’, all the good she’s brought in your life and how much love she filled it with, I want you to always remember her, okay?” Stan feels more tears fall down his face, his Fidds is so wise. He knows how to help Stanley, what to say and do, even when Stanley doesn’t know why he’s feeling a sort of way, or can’t find himself to speak or think. He loves his Fidds, he wishes he had him as a dad instead of him, then life would’ve been super better, probably great even!

“But, don’t get stuck in your feelings, you can remember and love your Ma’ all you want and need, but you need to remember there’s other people that care about you. I care about you so much, so many people in town care about you. So when you find yourself feeling too much about your Ma’ or your past, remember your present and the people here that love you. Remember me, Stanley, remember how I love you as much as I love to breathe. Remember that you’re my baby, that I love taking care of you, that I love being here, in the now, with you. Can you do that for me, Sweetpea?” Stan sniffles and throws his arms around Fidds’ neck sobbing into him. He also loves his Fidds! He loves how he cuts his sandwiches just right, how he does the voices when he reads to him, he loves how Fidds doesn’t call him stupid or girly. He loves how he can just be small around him, that he’s allowed to cry. Fidds would be such a good Pa’.

Stan feels Fidds softly pat his back as he cries again, for what feels like forever this time. When he feels his tears stop, he sniffles and leans back, wiping his nose on his hand. He giggles as he feels Fidds swipe at his face with the cloth again, covering his face from the ticklish feeling of the cold water. He softly pushes Fidds’ hands away with a soft spoken “stop”, breathy from his giggling. 

“There’s my boy! Now, I think we both need an early bedtime, hmm? What do ya’ about getting in your comfiest pajamas-I’m thinking your Whale long johns-and getting cozy in bed with Poindexter and “Goodnight Moon”? How ‘bout it?” Stan nods his head slower this time, crying always makes his head hurt. He doesn’t want to think anymore right now, he just wants to cuddle his Fidds, Poindexter too of course, he couldn’t leave out his bestest friend, and fall asleep under a warm blankie. Fidds helps him off the toilet seat and into their room, helping him step into his fuzzy whale pajamas and tucking him tight into bed. All the way up from his feet to his neck, just how he likes, and finishing with a forehead kiss that has scrunching his nose up into an adorable smile before settling under the covers with the book open. 

“In the great green room there was a telephone and a red balloon…” Fiddleford began reading.

And, as he drifts off to sleep surrounded by warmth and love, he lets out a whispered “G’night, papa”, which squeezes Fiddleford’s heart, which in turn means he squeezes his boy even tighter, resting his head on top of his Stanley’s. Promising, to both himself and the little nestled right here in his arms, that he’ll never waver in love and devotion to his little family.

[asvtrials]

Let me show you how sorry I am

Bjorn x Fem!Reader

minors dni!

summary: Bjorn made you cry and he's very sorry about it. So sorry that he buries his head between your legs... warnings: smut, oral (fem! receiving), toxic relationship, plot? what plot?, ooc maybe?, not proof-read a/n: Guess who's back?! I wrote this in like two hours so if it's shit yk why. Bjorn eating his gf out after he fucked up is very real to me this man will avoid the consequences of being a dick like it's the plague. ANYWAYS, something small for you! w/c: 819

Bjorn is always saying shit he doesn’t mean. It’s just how he is.

In the heat of the moment, he will say the most outrageous shit and cause you to storm out in tears.

At first, he thinks you’re being dramatic until he calms down and realizes what a dickhead he was. And that’s when the guilt comes and he’s calling you, texting you, begging you to hear him out.

When you ignore him, he goes to your trailer. When you open the door and send him a venomous look, he looks all desperate, like a kicked puppy.

He cups your face, keeps saying how sorry he is and how much of an asshole he is all the time and you let him, because you know what comes next.

You’re weak, so weak you hated it. Especially when he starts kissing your cheeks, testing the waters, seeing if you’ll push him away. You never do, always melting in his arms as he slowly kisses your jaw and neck.

His lips move with yours in a slow, deep rhythm, leading you to your bedroom.

You fall on the bed with a soft groan, pulling him on top of you.

You don’t stop him when he takes off your pants. Why would you? 

Oh right, you’re mad at him…

Then he starts whispering “You know I don’t mean all’at shit, right?” and “I love you, I dunno what I was sayin’, baby.” between kisses. 

You barely hear him, too drunk on the taste of his tongue yet you nodded, no longer caring about the fight. Hell, you barely remember it.

And he knows it.

A small smirk tugs at his lips when you chase his lips after he pulls away.

“My perfect girl deserves better.” He purrs against your neck whilst leaving a trail of red marks from your neck to your collarbone.

You reach for his soft hair when he reaches your panties, lips inches away from where you desperately need him.

His finger lightly grazes the wet spot on the fabric as he looks up at you through his lashes and asks you “Lemme show ya how sorry I am, yeah?”

It’s embarrassing how fast you nod.

He drags the underwear down your legs, torturously slow to the point where you whine for him to hurry up.

Bjorn is rarely patient. He usually fucks you fast and hard, like a starved man. But not tonight.

Tonight he wanted to show you how sorry he is. And why you always end up forgiving him.

Watching him position himself between your spread legs is enough to knock the air out of your lungs.

You watched the spit abandon his lips and fall on your core, mixing with your juices. 

His eyes meet yours once again as he flattens his tongue against your pussy, sending shivers down your spine.

His name falls from your lips in desperate, pathetic moans as he dives between your legs.

He sucked and slurped on your essence, spreading your folds with his fingers. He didn’t stop even when your thighs were squeezing his head, not even when he felt like his lungs were going to explode from the lack of oxygen.

How could he? When his girl was begging him to ‘not stop’ when she was so sweet to let him show her how remorseful he was.

Almost as sweet as her juices that drive him crazy with every lick. 

“Ah! Fuck!” You moan, thighs trembling with the sensation of your nearing release.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and lifted your hips to bring you closer, needing to be as close as possible, to lick every last drop you had to offer him.

His tongue feverishly lapped your soaked cunt, your loud moans only fueling him to go faster, to ruin you completely so that the only thing you can remember is the feeling of your tongue between your folds.

The last straw was Bjorn’s moan against your clit. You come with a scream, not caring about your neighbors.

You squeezed his head with your quivering thighs, the earthshattering orgasm you just experienced left you a shaking, breathless mess.

And you swear you almost came again when Bjorn finally pulled his head back, admiring his work before meeting your hazy gaze. His slick-coated lips moved but you didn’t hear him.

You nod regardless.

“You really forgive me, baby?” He asks again, his smile turning into a smirk when you weakly reply ‘yeah’.

You were sure you’d feel at least a little pathetic with how easy it was for him but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Especially with the way he looked right now. Chin glistening with your taste, a small victorious grin tugging at his bruised lips as he looked at you.

You knew this wouldn’t be your last orgasm, it never was. After all, Bjorn was very sorry and you were very weak.

[majesty0h]

~Sharing is CARING. And Toji Cares About You Very Much~ imagine this is them ok

You and Toji have a great sex life. Scratch that, you have an AMAZING sex life. His stamina is stupid, he's packing bigger than you've ever encountered...he's a FREAK. A hulking, muscled freak who's down for anything and has showed your usually prude ass things you've never even dreamed of. Bondage, wearing vibrators in public, petplay, breathplay, temperature play, hell one time he ate your ass on the balcony while he was dressed as Wolverine. You had no clue where he got all of these ideas, but you certainly weren't complaining.

The current "thing" was watching porn on your VR headset while he went down on you. He'd been shocked to hear that you didn't consume it regularly, I mean, he was beating off to BBW on the Hub every chance he got. He was determined to force you outside your comfort zone.

It started slow, vanilla. Standard B/G, anal. Then it evolved to breeding, cucking, double penetration...

That's when he noticed it.

You took forever, FOREVER to cum on his mouth (to his annoyance) when you were watching dirty movies. But when you stumbled upon a woman getting plowed by her husband and his best friend...you were quick. Too quick. The way you moaned and gripped his hair, pulling him in deeper, it caused his tongue to stop flickering for a moment.

"Hm? What the fuck's gotten you so riled up, ma?"

You instantly freeze and pause the video, cheeks burning red behind that stupid headset, feeling dirty, feeling bad. It was bad this was so hot, right? "Uh, nothing. Just usual stuff," you lied.

You're a terrible liar.

You feel and hear the bed creak as he shifts up and snatches the device off you, raising it up and peering. He's wearing just grey sweatpants, that were tenting the minute he realized what was up. A shit eating grin spread across his face. "Oh fuck. That's what you're into now?"

You groan and throw a pillow at him. "Shu up! I've just never seen it before. You ruined the mood."

Your boyfriend is snickering at your discomfort. "Uh huh. Get on all fours. I wanna see who fucks her better."

You push this morning's events out of your head as you go to work. And it's definitely not when you return home ten hours later, tired, annoyed, and frustrated.

"Hey babes. Welcome home!" Toji, your beautiful trophy boy calls from the living room. "How was work?"

Sighing you kick off your heels and scan your phone. "It was rough. This merger is insane. We have 5 million dollars riding on this and everyone wants to dick around. I thought being Vice President was worth the drama, but it's seriously getting to me," you vent as you scroll through dozens of confidential, high priority emails.

Maybe that's why you loved Toji so much. Whenver you're with him, you don't think about deadlines, trades, layoffs. Just feeling good, happy, and full.

Walking into the living room, you're so engrossed you don't even register there's someone else sitting on the couch with Fushiguro. You only look up in confusion when the stranger whistles, low and deep. It's almost like a purr. "Damn Toji, you weren't lyin'. Complete smokeshow."

Your eyes widen and your head snaps up. There he is, manspreading on your very expensive couch, sleek black boots pressed against your /very/ expensive white rug. He's tall, lanky, built like a beanpole. He's got a shock of white hair, and he's wearing small, circle shaped sunglasses, but the shine of dazzling blue eyes peek through anyways.

Toji's looking at you like it's Christmas morning, his gaze darting between the other man and his jaded wifey. He seems to drink in your confusion.

"Oh...I...I didn't know you had a friend over," you say after an awkward pause. You're trying to address your man, but you can't tear your eyes away from this twink. Who is he? "Hi?"

The stranger beams, shifting to a more professional posture. God he is tall. You feel so small under his gaze, and you glance to Toji for help, understanding. He offers none. "Hey, pretty lady. My name is Jerome. Jerome Washington. The building's maintenance man. I heard..." he leans slightly closer to you, sliding his shades just down an inch. "You need your pipes cleaned."

You blink. "No? The pipes are fine?"

Toji groans in disproval and shoves "Jerome" slightly. "Dude, I told you, you don't gotta do any of that shit. Just be normal, for fuck's sake."

The stranger, who was doing his best to seem mysterious and commanding, broke into a boyish smile. "Oh yeah my bad. Sup? I'm Satoru Gojo. I'm going to fuck the shit out of you tonight!"

"We," Toji corrected, but he's got that same expression.

Have you gone crazy? Has the stress finally made you crack? Are you hallucinating? This was a fever dream. Toji had a knack for wanting to snap the neck of any man who even looked at you...so why was he sitting here, giddy, as this "Satoru" addressed you so vulgar? So hungry?

"...huh?" is the only thing you can say, darting between the pair. You're more than a yard away, but you can practically smell the lust filling the room. "Toji...what is--"

"Remember earlier today?" he interrupts, running a hand through his shaggy hair. "When you were creamin' over that video? The Eiffel Tower?"

"Toji!!"you hiss, flustered he would bring this up in front of a guest.

He cocks his head, throwing Gojo a knowing smirk. "She's all shy. Isn't that cute? But I promise, she was feening."

Satoru licks his lips, still undressing you with his eyes. "I bet. To be honest I haven't either. But I'm not stupid enough to turn it down."

Toji snorts. "Yeah? Don't worry, I'll show your prudes how it's done." He snaps his fingers at you. "C'mere doll. C'mere and kneel."

You're glued to the same spot, trying to reconcile what's happening. You watch as Satoru pats his knee, promising not to bite, unless you're into that.

"Princess,"Toji repeats again, his tone firm and commanding enough to snap you back to reality. You know that voice. It's the "you listen or you're in a lot of trouble" voice.

Sheepishly, you stare at your feet as you shuffle forward. You can't ignore how your heart beats in your chest, how your dress feels too tight, how this is the hottest fucking thing you've ever experienced.

"Kneel."

You don't defy him. You look up at them both with doey eyes, shuddering when he grips your chin, stroking your cheek with the pad of his calloused thumb. Gojo hums and repeats the same motion on the other side. His touch is soft and warm, and you can't help the soft sigh that escapes you. You squeeze your thighs together, trying to ignore the growing warmth. Your boyfriend presses your foreheads together, his voice syrupy against your ear. "I love you so much, doll. I'd do anything to make you happy. If this doesn't show it, nothing else will. Now you just relax and I'm gonna make your fantasies all come true," he promise as he nips at your neck. "Now start making our friend feel at home."

You swallowed hard. You feel like you could faint. You want to reply "yes daddy" like the good girl you are, but words fail you. All you can do is nod.

You take a deep breath and scoot over, still on your knees, but nestled between Gojo's skinny legs. He smiles down at you innocently, but the contents of his words are far from it. "You have such pretty lips, sweetie. How about you open them for me?"

You glance at Toji for reassurance, but he's gone from the couch, crouching behind you, fingers weaving into your hair, massaging your scalp. "Go on."

Your hands tremble as you reach for Gojo's belt.

((haven't written anything like this in years LOL im so rusty. stay tuned for part 2 and feel free to share ;D ))

[nourangul]

Missed Connections

It's my first attempt at anything x reader, but thanks to a few notes from @darktrashsoulbear I think I've gotten it. I hope so at least. Comments are always welcome. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Now to enjoy another Ewan Mitchell x Reader oneshot!

————————————————

It had been a last minute thing, Ewan had fully intended just to hole up in his hotel room for the night and rest with a book he was attempting to read.  He’d read the same page a few times when a friend on the crew called him–inviting him out to a local show.  At first, he’d been teetering on no, but had asked what kind of show–something metal.  Matt’s girlfriend knew the band, had even helped get them sorted out with a small label that wouldn’t take them for all they were worth and then some.

What the hell

He’d thought, he’d go and enjoy the evening.  More than anything, he wanted an outlet–to do something fun that made his stress melt away.  What better way than to go a little mad in the pit?

——

No matter the city or even the country, clubs were all the same: strobe lights thumping along with the bass of varying degrees of quality, shouted conversations to and from everyone and no one, the smell of spilled and shake liquor on top of a hundred perfumes and colognes with a base layer of sweat, the clank of ice and glass as overworked bartenders kept up with the ebb and flow of humanity in search of social lubricant. 

It was sensory hell before trying to get through the crowd and Ewan had been firmly left at their chosen table while he nursed a drink and watched his friends “dance”. It had at least started as dancing and now it was a scant step up from grinding. Now he was looking at anything else to avoid an accidental eye fucking he’d never recover from. Everyone was a stranger here and he wasn’t prepared for that, not tonight at least. 

Drink in hand, he headed outside to save some of his hearing and to have a smoke. A nasty habit, sure, but one he had no intention of quitting…

“Fuckin’ hell.” 

After a thorough pat down of every spare pocket he had, Ewan realized he’d left his pack of smokes god only knew where. 

“Ewan? It’s Ewan, right?”

A woman had come up to him and for a long moment, he didn’t recognize her. Was she a fan or…

“Yes… Wait, I know you–from the flight to Heathrow?”

“I thought this was you! Your hair looks good!”

He’d been dark blond the last time she saw him, not the bleached blond he’d chosen for the premier of the second season. He’d run a hand through his hair out of habit, a little smile at receiving a compliment from a pretty girl. 

And god she was pretty with that big smile of hers. She looked intimidating, but that could just be the nerves… Oh god, but that smile… fuck, she could light up all of London. 

A hug was offered and accepted, they’d become fast friends on a red eye from New York to London. Yet he hadn’t ever expected to see her again when she sprinted away to make a connecting flight to Helsinki. Fate was funny that way, it seemed. 

Their conversation was about everything and nothing. Sharing a pack of cigarettes he later learned was from Finland. She’d come back to London to do press for a new ep. Just like he had just finished his own press tour. 

Over shared experience, one drink turned into two, then three. His phone buzzed occasionally—Matt had been an unexpected friend and he was grateful. Tom was an even better friend and both liked to check on him from time to time. Especially Matt in this case. He and his girlfriend had invited him out. The least they could do was check on him. 

“You have good friends, they like to check on you. Nice for a night out in a loud club.”

“I do, it’s a gift.”

“Any of them here? I can release you if you want.”

“No, it’s fine. I came with a mate and his girl, they’re about to call it a night.”

“And what about you?”

“Haven’t decided yet. The company is good.”

“Hmm…” She played with one of the pendants she wore. “I could eat. Wanna get out of here and find some food?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

——

Which led them to perhaps the seediest kebab shop he’d ever seen, but it was open all night. 

It was the sort of place Matt’s girlfriend had called “a greasy spoon”. It fit: the tables were a little sticky, napkins were thin, the plates were almost as thin, but it was the best thing he’d ever eaten. Something about the beer, tobacco, and the company. 

It would be a warm memory, he knew it already. Knew it when he brought her back to his hotel only for them to both fall asleep at the beginning of some 2000s horror movie.

A perfect surprise. 

A perfect night. 

[aloneinthehellfire]

Chapter Twenty-One: Friend Or Foe, Part II

Gates Of Hell

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: amnesia, needles, guns, death, guilt

[A/N: since the last chapter showed what steve was up to, i figured we should find out what was happening to mini hopper over here... *hint* it's not fun]

Friend Or Foe, Part II

“Which is why I’m sorry.”

You push him, the faceless boy, into a void. There are so many noises echoing across concrete walls, a splintering boulder bashing against the door, your only exit.

At first, you just stand there, staring as the open wall closes itself, a cry of your name thrown from the other side. And then you hear snarls, growls, monsters. You run.

But there is nowhere to run.

You’re caged in a corner, creatures drawn from the shadows, covering your face as you prepare for the end.

“WAKE UP”

You wake up with a gasp, twisting the soft cushion below you and immediately open your mouth to call for- Your breath stops in your throat. Who were you calling for?

Leaning on your elbow, you take a look around the furnished room. You fell asleep on the couch again. How many times was this now? At least eight, you think. You aren’t entirely sure how many days you’ve been down here.

You send a quick glance to the new pile of clothes waiting on the armchair opposite, a soft frown pinching your eyebrows. You still didn’t know where Brenner got them from. He left a different assortment every so often. You tried not to think about if they came from a deserted store, or somewhere much more morbid.

As you walk past, you grab a grey sweatshirt and pull it over, staring down at the sleeves.

You’ve worn something like this before. A hoodie of some kind. You remember it brought you comfort. You remember… it wasn’t yours.

A frustrated sigh echoes the room as you drag your hands down your face. Once again, you couldn’t locate the boy your brain so itched to find.

Brenner was helping you with your memories. Every day, you would do some mind exercises, incredibly mundane but so so important to you. At the end of each session, you’d take your medication and try to continue what he was teaching. You didn’t want to be stuck in this bunker forever, but how were you meant to leave when you couldn’t even find the door?

Besides, Brenner treated you with kindness. There were worse places to be in an apocalypse.

You take a deep breath, nodding to yourself. Today would be the day. You were going to remember.

The door creaked a familiar welcome when you leave the room, staring down the hall. You wonder if you have enough time to go exploring again.

A consequential part of the bunker you couldn’t wrap your head around was the lack of time. There wasn’t a single clock on the walls you so often wander around. Brenner always seemed to know exactly when everything should happen, however. Your tests, sleeping schedules, appropriate times to eat. And yet, you’ve never managed to catch him with a watch on his wrist.

You find the central part of the building, staring up at it with awe, as you did every single time. Here, there were separate floors for separate doors, all circling you as you stand in the middle. This section of the bunker made it seem much bigger than you had assumed it to be. In fact, the label bunker didn’t seem to match the grand scale of it. Although, you weren’t sure what else to call it now. A base, perhaps.

None of the doors here opened, windows blacked out with paint. Whether they were like that before or after Brenner moved in, somebody didn’t want you seeing inside those rooms. You were curious about them, as anyone else would be, but they weren’t a priority for you; finding the missing pieces of your memories were.

You’ve had several flashes of your forgotten past flash into your mind at random points over the past few days, but none gave you enough information to decipher what you were seeing. Just yesterday you had been staring down the same hallway you were now stood facing, imagining the lights flickering wildly with a panicked thrum of your heart beating against your chest.

You wondered when you would give up trying. It was silly, really, to constantly be wondering that when Brenner always told you positive thinking would better the results. You couldn’t help it. You supposed part of you must have always been expecting the worst outcome. You didn’t even remember who you really were. Did you really want to remember?

...Were you worth remembering?

Do the people who you left behind want you to remember-

“Why do you do that? Act like you aren’t someone important, when you most definitely are.”

You blink, footsteps frozen. It had just been a whisper in your mind, a calming voice. You’d been hearing it a lot lately, mostly in your dreams, sometimes when you’re overthinking like this. He was still faceless, whoever it was ushering sweet words of emotional relief. If you could just see him, the boy in your dreams, you’re sure you’d finally find that missing piece.

“We should rethink this.”

You stop again, head turning to the hallway with a confused expression. That voice most certainly wasn’t in your head. And it didn’t belong to anyone you knew, either.

“Calm down, this is what we’ve wanted since we started this whole thing.”

Brenner’s voice drifted down the hall this time. Without another thought, your feet are guiding you to the murmurs of conversation, curiosity proving it had you rather than reversed.

The speech between two men was louder when you reach the door at the end of the hall, concealing yourself around the corner and peering into the room.

From the gap in the door, you could make out a face you hadn’t see before. He seemed to be similar in age to Brenner, sporting a long white lab coat. His right hand was fiddling with the pen between his fingers, a nervous trait if you ever saw one. He was a little shorter than the man stood in front of him, his face twisted into some sort of conflicted emotion. From the discussion you were overhearing, it was clear he was in the opposition.

“Can it not wait longer?” He persisted, taking a step forward. “We can find another way. I just need time-”

“We’re out of time.” Brenner interrupts, placing a hand on his shoulder. “It’ll be alright, my friend. Think of all the things we can…”

His voice trails off, retracting his hand and straightening his back. You can’t see his expression from where you’re stood, but the man he was with seemed confused by it.

“Y/n.” Brenner suddenly turns around with a smile. Your stomach drops in shame. You obviously weren’t as inconspicuous as you hoped. “Please, come in.”

You take a few tentative steps into the room, observing the machines with various enticing buttons. There was a giant window at the back, replacing the wall. Except, you couldn’t see out of it. A giant shutter was rolled down, stopped just before completely covering the space and leaving a slither of light at the bottom. You frown at the sight. A giant window. In a control room…

“Okay.” A girl breathes out, slotting the key into a metal door. “We lock the door anytime we leave, just in case. We take shifts so some of us end up sleeping between. Don’t wanna be blind-sided.”

“It’s a good idea.” You say and she smiles.

“This way.” She announces as she swings open the door.

It was like stepping into a sci-fi movie. Lab equipment everywhere, some now lifeless machines, a large glass window overlooking rows of metal staircases, cages.

And a giant gate to hell staring back at you.

“This is Dr. Owens.” Brenner interjects the swirling memories, stepping forward. You peel your eyes away from the shutters and finally acknowledge the men standing in front of you. “I have brought him here to help with your memories. He’s very skilled in this area.”

Owens was happily nodding, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. You think you’re pretty good at reading people, consequence of the years you would sit and observe on the outside of many conversations. This man looked… sad, in some way.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope my sudden appearance isn’t alarming in any way.” He offers a hand and you shake it, feeling the slight tremor in his grip. Something felt wrong.

“Well, shall we begin today’s session?” Brenner claps his hands and Owens retrieves his, nodding and walking out of the room.

You watched as he turned right towards the centre of the base rather than left to the room you’ve been conducting these sessions for weeks.

Brenner notices your confusion and places a hand on your shoulder. “We’re moving to a different room this time. Nothing to be worried about, I assure you. We just need some better equipment for this.”

He barely gives you time to think, the hand on your back guiding you out the door before you can even remember the window at the back of the room, holding a secret the universe didn’t want you to find.

“Before we begin today’s session, I’ve been meaning to take blood samples from you.” Brenner announces as you sit in an uncomfortable chair, the metal entirely different from the plush sofa you usually rest on.

“Blood samples?” You question, and Brenner smiles that same smile he’s shown you since your coma. When you think a little harder about his kindness now, did his show of comfort feel… forced?

“Are you sure she’s ready for that now?” Owens surprises you with his interjection, stepping into view beside you. “Maybe you should give her a little more time with the medication, I’d hate to-”

“Why don’t we ask her how she feels about it?” Brenner suggests, leaning forward to meet your eyes. “We don’t have to do this today. It’s simply to help us monitor if there’s perhaps something a little more medical than amnesia happening.”

More medical than amnesia? You think to yourself, glancing over at the tray of needles. This contrasted the last sessions dramatically. Every nerve in you screamed ‘no’, to refuse their help. But that crippling fear seemed to outweigh it; what if you never remembered?

Maybe this was one of those risks you have to take for the better.

“It’s okay.” You nod, turning to the man beside you. “I’m willing to do whatever.”

You assure the new doctor you’re alright, but his eyes were racked with an emotion you’ve witnessed and felt numerous times. Guilt.

It sends a shock of a memory: holding someone’s hand, tears running down your face, a hospital bed you didn’t occupy. Your sister. Sara. How your heart ached with her absence. How guilty you felt when you assumed your father would replace her. The girl was so sweet, she didn’t deserve your hostility. The girl. Who was she?

Who was she?

A number.

9?

10?

1-

“We must start.” Brenner interrupts, and the memory is fading.

“Wait!” You stand from your seat and Owens pauses with the needle in his hand, waiting. Brenner wasn’t so patient.

“Did you change your mind?” He questions, tilting his head. He had barely moved from his seat, even in recognition to your outburst.

“No, no, I-” You glance between them, scrunching your face. “I remembered something. My sister. I have a sister.”

Brenner seems to be personally interested this time, not a usual trait he displayed. He shifts to sit a little straighter, attempting to fashion it out by placing down his clipboard and nodding.

“What about her do you remember? Anything important?”

“I…” And your voice trails away with the image of a young girl, disappearing. Your next words came out a little defeated, shoulders slumping. “I don’t know.”

“Hm.” Brenner leans back, crossing his legs. “Let’s continue, then.”

You practically deflate back into the chair, staring down at the ground with an unwavering sense of helplessness.

“No.”

Both of your heads whip to where Owens was placing the needle back on the table and shaking his head.

“She’s not ready. We’ll do it tomorrow, let her prepare herself.” He aims his declaration to the man sat in front of you, eyes holding more warning than you had expected.

“But it’s just a blood test.” You say, leaning forward. Neither of them reply. “Right?”

“Perhaps Dr Owens is right.” Brenner eventually says, standing from his chair and peeling his eyes from his colleague. He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a familiar phial, the rattling noise echoing in the uncomfortable silence. “We’ll continue this later. Just take your medication for now. Dr Owens and I will confer on what’s next.”

You realise your voice wasn’t to be heard here and allow him to shake out two pills, clutching them in your hand. You held them tightly even as you left the room, weaving back through the hallways to the comforting hue of a furnished room.

Your feet took you to the water bottle on the desk by the door, instinctively raising the pills to your mouth, just like you did after every session. But this time, something makes you pause.

My sister.

You try to focus on the image of your sister, almost forcing yourself to place her features piece by piece. She was the same age Sara would have been. Oh god… Sara. How could you have let yourself forget about her? How did you let yourself forget about anything?

Hopper will be so disappointed when you find him. He taught you better. Whatever caused this amnesia was probably the result of your own stupidity. If he was in your position, he would have left this place already, regardless of memory or not. You knew he would.

So why were you still here?

Maybe you were just afraid there was no one waiting for you on the surface, dead or alive.

The little white pills were long forgotten, discarded on the desk as you trudge your way over to the couch, sinking into it like your forlorn attitude. Your eyes close with the last slip of a tear. Of all the things to forget, why couldn’t it be how awful you felt?

You didn’t realise you had drifted to sleep until the sound of the door shutting echoed through the room. You turn your head to find Owens is stood there, running a hand down his face and clutching a notebook.

“Hello?” You prompt, sitting up.

He turns to you in surprise, your unexpected presence sending a mix of emotions onto his face.

“My apologies.” He says, walking back over to the door. “I didn’t realise you were sleeping.”

“No, it’s okay.” You say, smiling. “I’m not meant to be sleeping in here anyway.”

Rather than respond, he stands awkwardly in front of the door, eyes shifting between his notebook and feet as he decides between staying and leaving. Even though you didn’t know this man, you could tell something was weighing on him, as it was you also.

“Can I ask you a question?”

His eyes dart up in surprise but he nods, clearing his throat “Of course.”

“Why are you here?”

The question lingers, his hardened expression softening into contemplation. It was almost as if he wasn’t certain of his presence here either.

“May I sit?” He asks after a little while and you smile timidly, shuffling further down the couch to make room. When he finally sinks into the cushions, he adapts a more comfortable posture, tilting his head in your direction. “I’m here because Dr Brenner asked me to be.”

“I assume you’re friends?” You ask, fiddling with the sleeves of your hoodie. A nervous habit.

“We’ve known eachother a long time.” He responds, eyes never fully meeting yours. It seemed he was dodging the truthful answer, whatever that may be. “We worked in a lab together a while ago, trying to make a difference. But before we could really do anything, I… I left.”

“Why?”

“My wife.” Owens smiles this time, a fond memory playfully tugging at his lips. He twists the silver ring on his left hand, “She was the most supportive person I knew. She was the reason I really started all of this. High school sweethearts, if you can believe it. We were going to change the world. But she got sick. Cancer. She fought for such a long time… after that, I didn’t have the energy to continue my work.”

“I get it.” You say after some contemplation. He frowns, eyeing you with curiosity. “My sister…”

His eyebrows raise, a stillness to his exterior. You pretended not to notice, pulling back at the sleeves of your hoodie.

“Grief is a very powerful thing.” He says, sighing. “Especially when you believe you have the power to save them. I just… I never had the resources.”

You nod along to his words, an unexpected similarity between you and this man you’ve never met. Just remembering Sara’s face was all your heart needed to start aching. No one really understood that before. Other than Hopper. You never gave him a chance to connect with you over her death. You suppose he didn’t, either.

After a moment, a groan leaves Owens’ mouth and he runs his hands down his face, looking up at the ceiling.

“I wanted to help people.” He admits quietly. “God, it was all I ever wanted. I was ready to find new ways to better the lives of everyone around us, to find cures, to- to discover endless possibilities of the human mind…”

“Did you?”

“In a way.” He sighs, looking at you. “Just not the way I wanted.”

You watch his smile fade into sadness, his eyes drifting to the ground.

“Are you okay?” You ask, shifting to face him on the couch.

“I am.” He states, closing his eyes. “But you aren’t.”

You frown, tilting your head. “What?”

“Brenner isn’t who you think he is.” Owens says solemnly, scared eyes burning fear into yours. “He isn’t trying to help you.”

“I- I don’t understand.”

“You didn’t take the pills, did you?” He glances over at the little white capsules collecting metaphorical dust on the desk. “And now you’re already starting to remember your life.”

Your eyes widen at his implication, turning your head in horror at the ‘medication’ meant to be fixing you.

“Antipsychotics.” Owens answers before you can even ask, tightening his lips. “They’re designed to lessen the effects of extreme psychosis but only in smaller doses. The pills Brenner has administered to you are… they are more than anyone should take, especially those with amnesia. They aren’t curing you, Y/n. They’re making your memory worse.”

“Why would he do that?” You shake your head, unsure who to trust. But this man in front of you had more emotions than Brenner has displayed to you in the past two weeks.

Trust no-one, your dad would say, only trust yourself.

But how could you do that when you quite literally couldn’t remember who you are?

Owens tries to answer when he suddenly looks up at the door, panicked.

“Hide.” He says, gently tugging your arm and ushering you off the sofa and towards the closet.

“Here?” You question, but you make no effort to stop him guiding you over to it.

“Behind here is a vent system. I cut out a panel of the closet so you should be able to access it. It’ll lead you to the other side of the lab- bunker. You need to get through it quickly and pretend like none of this happened. It’s not an escape, but it’ll make it look like you were never in this room, you hear me?”

“What? Why?” You stumble into the wooden structure, turning to catch his arm before he could close the door. There were so many questions you needed to ask, but there would never be enough time to have them answered. “What’s going to happen?”

“Look, kid.” He says almost sadly, a small smile on his lips. “He isn’t who you think he is. I need you to act like everything is okay. Don’t take the pills, radio your friends- I’ve heard them on one of the frequencies before. But, most importantly, don’t let him catch you.”

“Don’t let him catch me.” You repeat, but it wasn’t a question. Don’t let him catch me. “What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Protect yourself, protect your friends. You’ll need eachother if you ever want to stop it.”

“Stop what?”

A rushed echo of footsteps can be heard from the other side of the door, pulling away Owens’ attention. Your heart sank. It was too late.

“Room 237. He needs you.” He whispers, grabbing the closet door before you can object. “Now, go. Don’t look back.”

Owens carefully shuts it and plunges you into darkness, only a slither of light peeking between the cupboard doors. You turn around to see exactly what he had described, crouching to carefully remove the cover. It barely made a sound and you sigh in relief just as a louder noise filled the room.

Brenner swung the door open and closed in one swift motion, stepping onto the carpet where he found Owens sat at the couch, skimming through a notebook.

You place a hand inside the vent, testing its structure. Rock solid.

“Did you tell her?” Brenner questions and despite every instruction you were given, you paused.

“Tell her what?” Owens responds with a casual tone. But even you could hear the slight incline in his voice behind the wooden doors, a tell-tale sign he was hiding something.

“Where is she?”

“She hasn’t been here. I’ve been sat here for a while waiting.” He shrugs. “She’s probably wandering about again.”

“Hm.”

Silence. You wince. You couldn’t make an escape if you didn’t have the tone of their voices to distract it.

“I heard the transmissions.” Brenner states lowly. “I know what you’ve done, Sam.”

“I don’t know what you’re-”

“Don’t lie to me!” He suddenly roars, making you flinch. You haven’t ever seen him like this. You weren’t even aware he was capable of it.

“Fine!” Owens yells back, standing from the couch and throwing his notebook onto the cushions. “Fine. I sent out a call for help. She doesn’t deserve to be locked up in here, Martin. None of us do. You’re going too far.”

“Too far? This could be our only saviour.”

“No. It’ll be your saviour.” Owens raises his chin.“You’re the only one that needs this. Let the girl go. I won’t ever speak of this again. I’ll be out of your hair.”

Brenner sighs. He stares at his friend for a moment, something dark lurking behind his eyes.

“You’ve been a good friend to me all these years.” He smiles. It was unsettling this time. Almost like it didn’t belong to him. “I do hope you understand.”

Owens frowns, lips parting to inquire his cryptic words. The question never hit the air.

Brenner pulls out a gun from behind his back and shoots Owens directly in the chest.

Your hands fly to your mouth in a quick motion, suppressing an urge to scream out. You watch Brenner through that tiny little gap, tears pooling in your eyes as the man looks down at his former friend with nothing but disgust.

“We could have changed the world, Sam.” He says as his final farewell.

A twitch of Owens’ hand on the carpet catches your attention. You can just hear the choked gasp of breath leave his mouth in response.

It doesn’t return.

Brenner swiftly pockets his gun again and fishes out a key in his shirt. Without a second glance, he leaves the room, the click of a lock echoing back through.

All you could hear was your thundering heart beat against your eardrums, arms tight around your legs. Brenner just killed him. He killed him. And if he knew what you had just witnessed, he would surely kill you too.

You take another look at Owens’ body, shuddering at the thought of dying the same fate. You shouldn’t leave him like that. What if he was still alive?

Don’t look back, he had said with the last remaining urgency in his soul. He told you to leave. So that’s what you had to do, even if every cell in your body was screeching for you to sit here in a puddle of your tears and wait until someone came to save you. You knew even if you gave in to your fear, no one would come.

So, instead, plant your shaking hands on the cool metal of the vent and climb your way through, choking back the sobs scratching at your throat.

Chapter Twenty-Two: coming soon...

taglist:

@sheisjoeschateau . @kthomps914 . @curled-hair-red-lips . @nix-rose .

@palmtreesx3 . @kryztalglear . @sattlersquarry . @hey-barnes-stole-a-jeep . @sadslasher13 .

@iliveonteaandbooks . @innercreationflower . @newyorkangelbaby . @totally-bogus-timelady . @pansexualhoor .

@kitdjarin1 . @chiliwhore . @carolineesnell .

[fujii-draws]

OKAY! Chatot rant in tags below! Read at your own discretion.

[crystalkitty1220]

Man I wonder where the leader of the fear realm could've gone, it's alMOST LIKE NEVIN HAS AN

[zazzander]

The Pureblood Accent Headcanons

Pureblood wizards split off from their upper-class counterparts in and around the Statute of Secrecy, i.e., the 17th century. For this reason, I would expect the Black cousins and their peers to have a markedly different accent to pretty much anyone else in the UK.

After the split, the London accent went through a variety of changes, some of which I’m sure the purebloods did pick up eventually. So I basically mixed what was the aristocratic accent of the late 17th century (which was still mostly rhotic!) with modern "posh" accent.

Keep in mind, most wizards live in isolated areas. Many families reside in the West Country. We know a significant portion live in Hogsmeade (i.e. Scotland). We can assume the accent is also influenced by that. For families like the Potters and the Weasleys, even more so.

In my headcanon, their vowels would look a little like this (use the IPA chart to get the sounds):

Some examples of how that looks in words / names! (my best guess)

"James Potter" = d͡ʒɛɪmz pɔt-tɛɹ (pought-teR)

"Black" = blɛk

"Sirius" = sɪː.ɾi.əs "Regulus" = ɾeg.ul.əs "Andromeda" = ɛn.dɾɑ.meː.də (so "Andy" would be more like "Endy", "Meda" would be like "May-da"), "Bellatrix" = bɛ̈l.ə.tɾiks "Narcissa" = nɑɹ.si.sə (sounds very American)

"Remus Lupin" = rɪː.məs luː.pin

"Molly Weasley" = mɑ.lɪː weːz.lɪː

"Muggles" = mɤ-gəlz (almost like moo-glz)

"Muggle-born" = mɤ-gəl-boːɹn (moo-gl-bouRn)

"Mudblood" = mɤd-blɤd (mewd-blewd)

Added: you can listen to the sounds here https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/International_Phonetic_Alphabet_chart

[tonycries]

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

Synopsis. Marathons - they’re better in bed.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, marathon séx, major overstím, pússydrunk boys, CÚMPLAY, creampíes, mean Geto, squírting, innappropríate use of jujutsu (Gojo and Sukuna), pússy-slappíng, best friend!Choso, aphrodísiacs, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, BRÉEDING, making them cry, full nélson, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a good leak day mwah <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 5 rounds

“Raw.” he breathes, and there’s a strained - almost whiny - shudder being wrenched out of Toji’s hulking body when he sinks inch after long, hefty inch into your plush cunt. Bullying past the barely-there resistance of that first ring of muscle with such a harsh tug of your pliant body down his swollen cock. “R-raw. You- fuck- you finally let me–”

No, it wasn’t the first time you let Toji fuck you into these silken bedsheets without a condom - that was a few hours ago. But that didn’t stop him from spitting out that same, strained accusation, the same greedy little push and pull of his toned hips smacking sloppily against your clingy pussy. 

He was addicted. 

“O-oh, Toji–” you’re babbling, swollen lips glossed with tears, thighs burning at just how long he’s been pounding into you like this. “S’already the- the third? Fourth? Or-”

“Fifth.” he’s cutting you off, with a hoarse chuckle - voice shot already. “Fifth n’-” Head lolling drunkenly into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do to bite out brokenly, “-oh, my girl- hope y’know m’not hahhh- letting you go until I physically can’t anymore.”

Fifth, huh?

Oh, it was setting in - fuck, was he feeling it. You were so pretty underneath him, sweat-slicked body splayed out all shamefully for him, slurring words barely coherently. And Toji couldn’t even keep his eyes open, stars popping up behind his lids at every one of your velvety clenches, abs burning with each ravaged mash of his overworked, weepy head against your ravaged g-spot.

Fingers jittery where he’s hauling your body desperately to his muscled one. Clinging onto you so close - like a lifeline - that you could hear every tremoringly quiet ah! ah ah! following those long, solid glides, feel his happy trail scratching against your sluttily arched back. 

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good, that even after painting your gluey, sloshing insides white four times tonight already, Toji wanted more more more-

A bludgeoning knee comes down to shove your thighs spread even wider, spreading your puffy pussy lips so gapingly around his thick shaft. 

“Oh sh-shit.” he’s hissing. And Toji Fushiguro never stutters, he never throws his head back to let out such pained whimper like this.“Such a f-filthy pussy.” His pretty pink lips purse to spit a languid wad of his spit down on the bullseye of your slobbering cunt. The chilling dredges oozing a slow trail down your split-open pussy. “The fifth time- n’ y’pretend like this cute cunt of yours can’t handle more of me.”

“Ngh-” your teeth are clamping around one of the cushiony pillows, trembly fingers scrambling jerkily at the headboard, the plush mattress, anything- “You’re in s-so deep- feels like m’gonna pass out. How the hell are you still going?”

Toji rolls his eyes, acting for all the world like those whiny little words of yours don’t have his red, angry tip painting your insides with another honeyed coat of his sweltering precum. “Told ya not to hah- test me doll- just had to run that pretty mouth, huh?”

You’re keening when all five of his calloused fingers come up to smush your cheeks together embarrassingly, “Saying m’not gonna last going in raw- look where ya are now.” Toji’s craning his head to leave wet little kisses up your spine, your jaw, your forehead. Fully bending you in half to meet his lips, angling his riotous hips to graze his sensitive slit right against the swollen, bruised divots on your cervix. “Look where I am- I can’t stop.” 

And your hypnotized hips can only manage to give a last sticky heave meeting Toji’s drunken staccato before splaying limply down on the bed. Moaning around the lewd sucking of his lips around your heavy tongue. 

“No- no come back- shit, m’not-” He’s slowly losing control of those lingering thrusts, desperation bleeding into the way his big arms frantically circle around your weakening waist. Dragging you up, up, up like some glorified ragdoll, “How are ya n-not able to keep up when you hah- came up with the idea, ma.” And for all how gentle he’s being suckling on your pouty lower lip, one hand of his glides down easily to cup at your bulging pussy. Smearing in another quick, branding stream of saliva on your struggling, swollen folds spread so lewdly open around his thick hilt, “Ohhh, gonna make a man lose his sanity with a pussy this heavenly. Doesn’t seem so fair now, does it?”

That delirious little shake of your head makes him bare his canines in a grin, smiling at how utterly fucked-out you were on his mean cock. There’s a lazy, glistening trail of drool at the corner of your lips that Toji idles out his hot tongue to lick away, “Now now. Why don’t you- ah- use those words like a big girl, huh?” 

“Hah- didn’t-” those wet gurgles bubble at your throat, dying down after each harsh clash into your most sensitive spot. He’s reaching every nook and cranny inside of you - drilling cock expanding even girthier with each heady second. “Didn’t think you’d get so-” Another pretty glob of spit onto your cunt, “-addicted!”

“Well, what can I- hah- say?” Each taunting word is pushing you further and further up the bed, Toji’s tense hips hammering into you with no rhythm and rhyme now. Just lingering, mindless grinds chasing that painfully good smack! of his heavy, cum-filled balls at your ass, “When- ngh- when life gives you a wife this cute-”

You think he’s cumming - you think you’re cumming. But you can’t even be fully sure at this point, your own high nothing more than a few white-hot tingles, Toji’s overwhelmed cock straining to squeeze out a few more wispy strings of his milky seed. Until you were drenched in a silky coating down your inner thighs, beading pearly drops of his seed and your sweet sweet juices. To stuff you full even more.“-fuck her at least five times.”

“At- at least?”

Toji grins, “At least.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - As many as you can take (and a lil’ more!)

“My love.” Two soft pads of Nanami’s long fingers tap gently on your cheek, lingering when he lovingly cups your glossy pout. “My love.”

Biting your lip, you whine at his heated intrusion at your pretty cunt. Free hand thumbing open your soppingly wet slit to spread even wider around his thick hilt, scratching up so rawly against those neat tufts of blond at his sharp pelvis. “N’nothing, s’just that- hahh–” cocking your head to nuzzle his large palm, “You’re not- not tired, Ken?”

“Doesn’t matter.” he breathes, minty hot breath fanning your face when he leans in. And you think he’s going to kiss you - to maybe mouth away those big fat, overstimulated tears rolling down your face - but instead, Nanami’s stern lips wrap around your lolling tongue. Sucking. Moaning so depravedly. “All that matters is that- hngh- that–” Splaying out all five fingers on your stomach, pressing down hard where he can feel the divot of his very head, “-the mother of my future kids s’doing alright.”

He can feel that rotund clenching of your snug channel, the way your pussy grows increasingly more soaked with every stuttering nudge at your g-spot. 

When the heady bedroom air is only punctuated with a few sticky squelches from your cunt Nanami has to grit out - to force himself to speak. “Please-” hissing at the velvety silk or his seed swirling around your hole, it makes his toes curl, overworked balls squeeze achingly. Shit. “Give me an answer- please, darling, your cunt s’driving me insane. Fuck- I’ve- I’ve lost count at this point how many times I-”

At this, you can’t help but giggle. Reaching up to lick at the stray, glistening tear falling down his sharp cheekbone, “Are- are you crying, Ken?” The heels of your trembly feet curl tightly against the sinful dimples at the end of his spine, plunging him even deeper into the gloopy bottom of your pussy. “Can’t take any more?”

“No!” Nanami’s usually steady voice just cracks pitifully at the end. “No no no- just- hngh! I can take it- can give y’more. Anything for you, ma.”

Each of his hammering thrusts are slowly getting meaner. Slowly losing control. They’re haphazardly alternating between long, thorough slams of his entirely swollen length to mere jutting, half-thrusts - as if it just pained him to part with your clingy pussy more than that. 

And, shit, he’s so thick - so jaw-slackingly hefty when he twitches animalistically against all your sensitive spots. Gliding in solid, wet smears of his leaky tip against your cervix reminding you of the sheer strength he held. Fucking you so mean, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it - tired, fatigued body moving on animal instinct.

“Darling–” Nanami’s wet croon has you blinking away the lusty haze in your pupils, locking them with his own blown-out ones. “Eyes on me- have to make sure you can- ngh-” You can hear his jaw click with strain when you’re giving an experimental squeeze of your velvety cunt, “-m-me. Hafta make sure you can take it- you can take it, right?”

You’re gasping out brokenly, nodding in response to his question - thighs jittery and you don’t know whether you want to run or fuck yourself back down for more more more-

“Then why are you running, ma?”

Just as those billowing words leave his mouth, Nanami’s falling back onto his thick thighs, grabbing your body right along to seat you prettily down his brutal dick. It was devastating. It was sloppy how silky, stringy ropes of cum were rushing down in a glossy coat. Smacking so sluggishly down below.

“Wh-what?” you’re batting your teary lashes, jaw hanging open at just how much this didn’t sound like your usually gentle husband. Deep voice jagged, gutturally dangerous - he was talking to you in a steady, hard tone as if you were some prey. Setting his lewd sights on you to mash up even harder into your pretty cunt. 

He’s breathing out shakily in a way that told you he was getting close, thighs aching, red tip so angry and flinching in such a dizzy way. “Why- are- you-” The metal band of his gold wedding ring burns into your heated skin, digging possessively when he hauls you close. “-running away? Don’t- don’t think you can escape, darling.”

Those drenched silk sheets bunch up messily behind you at just how firmly he was halting your escape. “S’jus’-” you’re whining, in that syrupy sweet tone that makes him only grow painfully harder. Stiffening his back to drill copious inches, he’s tracing his fingertips back across your stomach. “-you’re in so deep. Think m’- hah, think m’getting close.”

“A-ah– of course you are.” he whimpers, tone lilting upwards at the end. It was just so stimulating how you were taking him so well despite being stuffed to the brim, overflowing in a creamy sheen. “Gotta- gotta get my pretty lady to cum- ngh! Breed her pussy full.” And oh, despite how composed Nanami seemed on the outside you could sense the waver in his words, the way his ruthless pace was evening out to something more messy. Untamed. “Make her the most beautiful momma.”

Brows knitting deeper and deeper every, it hurt - fuck, but it hurt more to not stuff you full until you were round and glowing. To leave even the tiniest chance of you being carried out of this bedroom without carrying his future kid. 

“You can do it- cum f’me.” It’s almost like he’s whispering to himself at this point, stamina withering. One hand of his guides your other own down from your searing grip on his unkept strands, down past his tear-slicked cheeks, down past his wobbly plump lips. Wrapping your fingers tightly around Nanami’s pale neck, forcing your nails to dig into the sweat-beaded skin. “Cum f’me- jus this once, because after this time m’not gonna be playing nice, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 7 rounds

“Shhh, gorgeous.” Geto’s hushed, smooth voice in your ear would almost be soothing, his large thumb gliding against the very peak of your puffed-up clit almost distracting- “S’all part of your special initiation.”

If it wasn’t for the rest of the cult standing behind those semi-sheer watching all of this happen to you, that is. 

Ah, you didn’t know whether that syrupy sweet idea of a special initiation - a rite of passage “just for you” - had you joining Geto’s religious association even sooner.  

Because here you were - your thighs burning with the relentless stretch of Geto’s forearms hooked underneath them, spreading you so fucking shamelessly towards where the countless others in the group were stood behind the covering around the creaky bed. A barely-there sense of privacy while he just ravaged you into the meanest full nelson possible. 

“Oh- fuuuck–” Geto’s groaning at your drunken little squirms on his cock, mouth salivating at the wet squelches being wrenched out with each pressurized thrust. “Just one more round now- come on, seven’s my lucky number. And y’wanna hngh- finish the initiation- right, pretty girl?”

His two strong legs plant even more vice-like on the absolutely drenched sheets, seeping into the creamy puddle of cum and honeyed slick spreading further and further each obscene second. 

That lolling nod of your delirious head has him crashing his sensitive, throbbing tip against your spongy g-spot, already so branded with the bruises of his divot. Holding back each whine after whine threatening to drag out from his throat when your swollen lips meet his in a sloppy graze of a kiss.

Shit, you were so cute - no wonder he had the fucking brilliant idea of fucking you like this. Even if it hurt - even if his achy cock was rubbing raw, over and over and-

“Aww, my pretty baby wants a kiss?” Geto’s leering grin only grows when he glides a dripping coat of wispy precum right across the back of your cervix, it’s so hot inside you - and you feel drunk off of every ooze of his cum from before, sloshing down in a milky white sheen. “Well not until you hngh-” He’s moving to bite down onto your earlobe, pussydrunk mind wondering whether your gummy walls were shaping around every ridge and vein of his shaft by now. “-cum f’me once more.”

“S-Sugu–” your eyes are rolling to the back of your head at the warm, wet cascade of his juices down your thighs, slipping and sliding you easily down his girthy length. “Don’t know if I- if I can cum- hah-” That admonishing smack! on your achy clit is taken in stride, gaping your gummy entrance even wider to swallow his every fucking inch greedily. “But- but I wanna. Wanna cum f’you so badly.”

There’s a muted shuffling from behind the curtains that have Geto’s darkened eyes narrowing in hostility, and he’s possessively turning his head to take in that sinful view of you down below. 

Shit- he could’ve almost came from just the sheer sight. The sight of your glisteningly puffy folds stretched to their limits around the creamy translucent ring around his thick hilt. Velvety walls contorting to massage his attritioning veins, grinding in thorough, purposeful gyrations against his heavily twitching balls. 

You were taking him so good.

And Geto’s never been more happy you couldn’t see the full plane of his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the mere sight, teeth biting down on his plump lower lip as if to draw blood. 

“Then do it.” Geto’s biceps just bulge against the small of your waist when they dig into a restraining loop around your body, pinning you down so helplessly to his sculpted front. “Cum f’me like a good girl then. Show me, show them-” The hand not rolling over your sensitive clit dips upwards to angle your face towards the still-watching crowd. His lips are drag so slowly at your heated ear, “-show them what a good girl you are f’me.”

Your cute, wobbly lips cry out in a broken little whine - and then your slutty cunt is just gushing down the entirety of Geto’s furious front. Slobbering a glossy, glossy sheen that coats his milky skin, syrupy and sticking - meshing your bodies so close together he doesn’t know where you begin and where he ends. 

”Good girl- good- hah- good girl.” Geto’s gritting out, trying for all the world to not sound as wrecked as he feels right now. Fuck, ignoring the spiking sensitivity, the stars behind his eyes to chase every little suck of your sopping wet walls, thighs trembly, eyes crinkling with such pathetically big tears. Shit, he’s pussydrunk. Only babbling out, “Ohhh- so perfect f’me, right? Even squirting- too generous f’me, gorgeous.”

It only takes a few more gasps from his ragged chest - heaves even. Delicately pink tip stuffing you so wholly full it’s like you’re about to explode, and Geto’s not too far behind. 

Not at all, in fact, with the way a final, harsh nudge against your springy cervix has him spurting out ribbons of creamy white cum. Oozing out in a thick, viscous polish that drools out of your bulging slit. Leaving a lewd trail of evidence where Geto’s fat cock was rummaging your poor insides. Over and over until he’s shooting nothing but blanks.

And it’s so hot, that you can almost feel it in your lungs. Limbs twitching mindlessly, he’s finding it easy to pull out - to display the gloopy filling lazily trickling out of you. Those slender fingers of his on your clit dance just downwards to circle the ring of your sloppy hole, swirling around that messy gloss. He coats his fingers until they just gleam in the dim lighting. Around and around. 

With a look of pure, unfiltered pride Geto clears his throat authoritatively. Jolting, you realize he’s not addressing you this time, “Everyone, say hello to your new second-in-command.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 6 rounds

Choso thinks he’s cumming - Choso thinks he’s crying, begging out such broken little pleas in your open mouth. He’s wrapping five pale, jittery fingers of his around the furiously red base of his cock, angling the bulbous head of his fat tip just right to press deeply into your greedy entrance. 

“Oh!” you’re smirking down at your best friend, biting back a wrecked moan at just how much he was stretching you, barely even reeling back at the brief resistance. His shredded patience can only wait a beat - two - more watching the snug channel of your cunt gush down in thick, hot streams of his seed from earlier, before bucking his hips up, up up- “Even five times wasn’t enough for you? What did I hah- tell ya about th-the-”

“I know I know, m’sorry, baby–” Choso cries, dark lashes batting at his cheeks when his eyes scrunch up into a pathetic bawl. “M’sorry I accidentally ate your- your ‘special chocolate’ but I fuck- it feels like m’burning all over. Like m’gonna die if I don’t fuck your cute cunt.”

And yet his bruising grip on your hips don’t waver, he’s still prying down your sticky body onto his, strong arms wrenching open your thighs to straddle him even wider. Still so needy - so hot all over with the itching greed to fuck you until one of you breaks.

Truly, it was a surprise to come home and find out your sweet best friend had raided that joke stash of aphrodisiac chocolate gifted by your coworkers last week - a welcome surprise. 

Because here he was - splayed out on your drenched silken sheets, big fat tears glistening across his cheekbones, toned body jolting so harshly at each one of your touches. So pussydrunk that you almost wondered whether it hurt, how his poor, overworked cock wasn’t fucking seizing at this point.

And even if it did, Choso wouldn’t complain - not one bit. 

“Please-” his breath comes out in a feverish puff, as wild as the fingers now toying with your swollen clit. Smearing the creamy dredges of his seed all over your puffed-up folds in tight little circles over and over and- 

Slam!

In a split-second, Choso’s hands are being pinned above his head. It would’ve looked almost comical - your much smaller ones restraining his own, fingers twitching animalistically with every sloppy drag down his pulsingly needy length - but oh, was Choso letting you. Letting himself be used like your favorite toy. 

“You’re being real greedy, Cho–” your teasing voice sends shivers wracking down his entire body. Powerful thighs bucking up in pressurized ruts up into your squelching cunt. “First you ate my- hah- secret stash, n’ now you’re being so hasty makin’ me cum.”

Each one of your words are punctuated by a sticky slam down onto his slowly-reddening pelvis, the fat of your ass being smacked with his sharp hipbones. You were riding him to insanity. 

“Yes!” Choso’s jaw hangs deliriously open, rosy red lips forming around your name again and again like a mantra. “M’so greedy- so greedy for your pretty pussy.” He whines, and just the feeling of your velvety walls milking his fat length for so long has his syrupy mess of a mind thrown into such a primal frenzy. “Can’t help it when you’re so heavenly, baby– K-keep wantin’ to fuck this cunt forever.”

The painful pull of your fingers weaving into his dark strands have him keening, latching onto the very tips of your sensitive nipples bouncing temptingly onto his face. “Can’t help it.” he echoes, swirling his hot tongue around your sweet areola, looking up at you with his gorgeously glassy, dark eyes. “Really can’t help it.”

There’s such a sickly, syrupy sweet staccato of Choso’s probing tip pressing deep into the drippingly wet g-spot inside you. And slowly - but steadily - your deft fingers find themselves dancing a path down to wrap around Choso’s heavily gulping throat. Breath hitching when they squeeze-

“Cum f’me, Cho-” he raises his lolling head up to meet yours, meshing back into a messy excuse of a kiss. Your teeth sink down to tug on his pouty bottom lip, fingers tightening, “Cum f’me- s’all to cure you of this chocolate after a-all, right?” 

At the reminder of that, his wrists try to wrench useless in your other hand’s vice-like hold. And honestly, Choso doesn’t know if he wants to cum again - he doesn’t know if he can. But the soft clingy feeling of your walls against his girthy shaft have him gasping, poor, overworked balls so raw. Tight and clenching painfully with every crashing push into your g-spot. He’s absolutely ruined. 

And both of you know it.

Oh, his head was so light now - your fingers vice-like around his pale throat. The only thing that Choso can seem to urgently choke out right about now is a honeyed, dragged-out drawl of, “Spit-” His wild cock leaking hot precum in another drippingly saturated wave everywhere, “Spit in my mouth, baby–”

And you do - that translucent wad of saliva barely hitting right in the middle of Choso’s lolling-out tongue before he cums. That ravaged divot on the very tip of his fat head stuttering out only one, two tiny beads of milky seed before he’s riding out such an addictively dry orgasm. 

Dewy eyes rolling to the back of his head, body sweat-slicked and clinging onto yours with creamy strings of cum and spit. So desperate when he’s fucking into you so filthy, pummelling you along the curve of his length like he was trying to drag out another milky stream of seed. Again and again and-

It takes only a split-second to break out of your hold - of course, it does - and you’re barely even registering it when Choso pins you back onto the sloppy mess of your soaked sheets. Hips still relentless, voice still ragged- “Think we’re gonna hafta hah- skip the dating n’ go straight to marriage after this, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 8 (and a half) rounds

If there was ever a time that the infamous king of curses would let out raspy little whimpers of his baritone voice - muscled just heaving deep gasps, looking at you all four eyes glistening with wet tears, hearts in his gaze - it would be right now. 

When the day sitting around his throne had been too long, when there’d been just a few too many scum curses groveling at his feet. 

When you were sprawled all prettily on his muscular, manspread thighs, your expensive robes pulled up just enough for that gummy cunt of yours to stretch open gapingly around his two matchingly rock-hard cocks. The plush of your ass on full, obscene display for him, limbs twitching with each swallowed-up inch down his fat, throbbing lengths. 

“Fuuck- take it easy, woman.” he’s hissing, powerful hip rutting upwards to skim his sensitive tip over the ends of your slobbering pussy. 

That has you pouty tearily, huffing out a low, “W-well- jus’ want you to hngh- be right-” Skittish fingers fluttering over to where you could feel him coating every hidden spot of your insides in his potent seed, angry cockhead bruising your taut channel more and more open around him. It was such a delicious stretch. And you’re pressing down where you can feel the divot of his head knock feverishly on your womb, splattering around milky dredges inside you, “-here.” 

Sukuna’s hips just surge forwards, like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

“Kuna- wh-wha-” you’re barely able to get out, whirling your head half-lucidly over your shoulder. But you don’t get very far - because one domineering palm hastily turns your face right back. “What are you-”

“No.” he’s letting out a strangled moan, leaving neat little indentations of his black, sharpened fingernails on your skin. “No you don’t get to- oh–” In a flash, sharp canines are digging menacingly right above the pulsepoint on your throat, and his hot breath fans over your ear. “Ah- y’don’t get to see me hngh- like this- fuckin’ embarrassing. I can’t even-” 

Sukuna’s cutting himself off by getting up onto two unsteady feet, holding you plastered so close onto his bowed body. The position is so precarious that for a second you’re worried, wondering how the hell the two of you haven’t broken any bones these past eight rounds. 

It’s his reversed curse technique, you later learn - but for now all you can do is gasp at your legs dangling in midair, spine arched back against his bulging pecs in a perfect arch, raising your head up, up, up and oh-

His eyes are aflame, glowing through the hypnotically dim lighting. Teeth bared into such a vicious grin one which only curls wider when you ask, “C-can’t even what, Kuna?”

He hisses down at the absolutely sultry look on your face - kiss-bitten lips falling slack into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded and miles away, your moans ringing through his ears like his favorite melody. “Heh- the fuckin- ah-” Another staggering push past your clingy sopping walls have him spitting out little swears, vision blurring dangerously at the corners. “-the fuckin’ audacity t-to ask me that, knowing what yer doing to me. S’pposed to help me relax but you’re hngh- driving me insane.”

You swear, you could feel his bulbous heads grow even thicker, expanding their way into contorting your gripping walls around his very shape. The even deeper intrusion has him throwing his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing with a dragged out moan of your name. 

A limp hand of yours dares to thread its way into Sukuna’s, tugging - pulling, “Look at me, please–?” And when he finally does - though, not before punishing the curve of your ass with such a stinging smack - you smirk, “Look so- ngh! pretty when you’re ruined like this, Kuna.”

That makes him falter - it makes his eyes grow just a bit wider, the insides of your elastic cunt being inflated open with another fresh wave of his furiously leaking precum. 

“Don’t-” Sukuna clears his throat of any traitorous dredges of a whimper, “Don’t push your- your luck, brat.”

But he couldn’t hide the fondness in his tone, that tiny little drawl of a whimper in his words. Heavy, pink lashes clumping up together with his overstimulating tears. It only takes a few more solid rams into your sweet hole - milking the bloated ends of his lengths for something delicious - a few more sharp, branding slams of his curving balls against your cunt. So large and aching for release that when they do, the sheer volume of Sukuna’s cum makes you dizzy.

Double the amount. It overspills, splattering half the thick, silky contents onto the decadent throne room floor. Soiling a sinful little puddle that he just can’t help but smile at, tutting mockingly, “Now now, look what you’ve done- making things even- hngh! even more stressful f’me now with this to clean up.” 

Out of his four beefy arms, two of them pin your own easily behind your back, the other dipping down to roll your puffed-up clit between his thick index and thumb. And the last one- fuck, the last one was pooling all the milky white ribbons of cum slobbering out of your stretched-out entrance. Velvety spurts dousing your walls once more - and he’s having so much fun, molding out your gummy cunt around to squeeze his fingers right in-between his two cocks. 

Still rutting into you - still cumming from both heads - every jackhammering thrust sparks stars behind his eyes. Back muscles curving deeper and deeper into you when he replaces every dredge of cum oozing down your saturated slit with a new one. The thrumming hum of his jujutsu making you keen-

“So messy. Such a filthy cunt my woman has-” he sighs, in a dark little way you knew meant he was just seconds away from tearing you apart. “Hmmm…wonder if it’ll be more relaxing. if I cum dry?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - RIP.

The strongest looks up at you with big, teary blue eyes, long lashes twinkling his pretty cheekbones every time he’s batting them. “Please. Just the tip-”

“Toru-”

“Please.” Gojo whimpers out, two of his massive hands laying at rest on the curving globes of your ass. Squeezing. Kneading you desperately in shallow, lazy grinds up and down his furiously leaky cock, “Please, sweetheart, don’t think I can handle cockwarming.” His abds are aching when they flex upwards towards you, “Haven’t had my hngh- fill just yet.”

You’re gasping when he has the audacity to give your plump clit a sharp smack! the pressurized buzz of his jujutsu from earlier sending white-hot electricity running down your arched spine. Splaying your cunt so deliciously to massage against your bulging g-spot. “N-nice try.” you grit out, legs trembling at the feeling of his thick, potent cum sliding out of your surprised entrance. “But I don’t think you’re ready- you’ve already set the lights off with your jujutsu being overstimulated, Toru.”

“Jus’ the tip- m’kay? Just the tip, I swear-” If you were of a clearer state of mind maybe you’d have pointed out that Gojo was well past the tip at this point. Feeling his fat head curve at your womb, knocking in a merciless, methodical pace. “Just missed you so much today- hah- gotta make up for lost time.”

He flashes you a devilish grin - one you’re somewhat ashamed to admit has your sopping cunt drip down a fresh sheen of your sweet sweet juices down his curvaceous length. Pooling at his frantically, painfully squeezing balls. 

And Gojo notices - of course, he does - even with his six eyes getting a bit too bleary right about the eighth? ninth? round. Ah, fuck, it didn’t matter anyway- 

“Then- then that’s good, isn’t it? Lights out- across all of hah- Tokyo, I bet.” His wretchedly strained tone is so different from the incessant pace of his bullying cock. Bludgeoning deep into your most secure spots, he’s nudging apart every velvety crevice of your walls, making such a mess of the creamy white seed of his dripping from the inside. Gliding his nose up the sweat-slicked column of your throat, “So really- we have nothing better to do. How about you- hngh- let me paint this pretty pussy white all over again?”

Of course, you wanted him to - but it was so fun how your barest tease makes Gojo fall apart. Pouty lips running a mile a minute.

His words are almost sleepy, and both of you aren’t even lucid enough to do anything about the ever-spreading puddle of cum and slick right below you. Meshing your lips drunkenly in an intoxicatingly sloppy kiss, “Come onnnn–” he’s babbling at your pointed silence. “One more? M’begging- begging, sweetheart. You got the strongest on his ah- knees n’ unable to use his powers.”

You knew so many people - so many curses - would kill to have Satoru Gojo all helpless like this. His lips moving faster than his overstimulated mind right now, drool dripping down the side of his rosy red mouth. So sensitive right now - unable to fight back. The only show of his previous prowess of strength being a stray flicker of blue lightning at his eyes when you’re cushioning his fat length with your clingy walls just a bit too hard, 

He’s heaving now - gasping deep, lungfuls of air every time his bruising grip is just bouncing your pliant body erratically down onto his. Wreckless, lunging slams that have your knees weak, stars flickering behind your lids. 

“Come on- come onnn–” He spits so syrupy sweetly into your panting, open mouth. Slender fingers wrapping around your clit, and it just throbs with the steady hum of his reversed curse technique. Stopping the two of you from breaking bones - because shit, how the hell is Gojo going to fuck up into you like an animal. Desperate little pleas of yes! yes! yes! wrenching from you at the stimulation. “Give it t’me, missed so much when you were gone out today. Please-”

“Hngh! S’too- too-” you’re drawling out incoherent sentences to match his. “Yeah- fuck yes- jus’ like that, Toru–” 

It’s only because of Gojo’s ungodly stamina that he was even able to last this long - the fact that he hadn’t fucked himself into a stupor at this point. And that’s the only thing, along with a few fumes of his reversed curse technique that have him careening smacking away your pathetic attempts to meet his thrusts.

The sensitivity too much, that he’s bawling - unable to handle the saturated drags of your slobbering pussy down his raw shaft. Mouth lolling open when you feel two big arms circle around your waist, mumbling tearily, “Wait- fuck hold that- think m’-” Like something snaps in the air.

Because then he’s cumming - at least, Gojo can feel himself cumming. This time, there’s no shattering of lightbulbs, no gleaming power in his pupils, because his poor body was too fucked-out for this. Too tired to do anything but have his heavy, strained-out balls just clench, shooting up wispy blanks into your readily swallowing pussy. 

“Oh!” he’s throwing his head back at the sheer overwhelming pleasure, beading out only a few, pearly little beads of sticky seed. But fuck, was Gojo riding out his high - riding out yours. Fucking you through each convulsing little clench of your silky cum-slicked walls, a high you’ve barely even registered still. “I don’t- I don’t know if I-”

“Don’t, Toru.” you warn, but it’s too late - only one, fleeting glance at your prettily stuffed pussy, the creamy little outer ring on your entrance, the way your puffy folds are just quivering like you’re in need of more - has Gojo intaking a sharp gasp. 

His wrecked eyes widen, looking almost afraid. Breath hitching, his words are shrill - barely audible, “Think- think we haven’t made up for lost time yet, sweetheart.”

“Toru, I was gone for five hours.”

“And?”

A/N. Gojo nation will we get a comeback today plsplspls?!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[ebodebo]

Ghost Garage

—mechanic!simon riley fucking you in his car garage because you couldn’t afford to pay for his services:(( MDNI ofc

“You’re lookin’ at six thousand for a new engine,” Simon says thoughtfully, scribbling a collection of messy additions in his notebook. “And if you’re lookin’ to do just one set of brake pads and rotors,” he says, scribbling some more, “lookin’ at six hundred even for those.”

Your eyes widen at his words because how the fuck were you ever going to be able to afford this? You swallow hard, pondering your following words. “Do you do discounts or something?” You’re sure you sound like an idiot, but you’re desperate.

The corner of his lip quirks at your question as his eyes stay glued to the notebook paper, still scribbling. “No. Still no discounts ere’,” he says, capping his pen, finally looking at you.

You fidget with your hands, eyes on his. “I—um…there’s no way I can…” you begin, turning your gaze away from him, feeling bashful, “…afford that.” Even though you had come to Simon’s garage before, this was just the first time you outwardly told him you couldn’t afford his services.

He leans back in his chair, the base squeaking a little. “Do ya’know how dangerous it is to drive with worn-out brake pads?” he states, placing the pen in his mouth, awaiting your response.

“Yes. I’m aware, but—” you begin, only for him to interrupt.

“But nothin’,” he calmly says, shifty in the chair, eyes shamelessly dragging down your body. You pretend not to notice even though it invokes an immeasurable amount of wetness to gather in your panties.

He can tell you’re nervous—your body language says it all. Clammy hands you wipe off on your jeans every so often, you’re avoiding direct eye contact with him, and the fact he can hear your heartbeat from where he sits.

He shouldn’t even have unholy thoughts of you come across his mind. But, shocker, he did. Every night from the time you first went to the shop all of those four months ago, he would fist himself in the shower thinking about you.

You, who always had that doe-eyed, glossed-over expression. You, who always had to bring Simon a sweet treat when you came, whether it be candy or some fresh-baked cookies you prepared. Oh, and you, who would hug him after he did your car inspections. Ya, he thought about that one a lot.

He considers your predicament. He has a solution, but it’s risky—perhaps too risky?

Eh, Fuck it. What’s he got to lose?

“Tell ya what,” he starts, standing up from his chair and grabbing the notebook paper with the numbers. “I’ll throw this ere’ piece of paper in the trash—hell, I’ll burn it,” he cocks a brow, “If you do somethin’ for me.” He hovers the small, intimidating piece of paper over a small trash can.

“Anything,” you say, desperation coating your voice. He hums, ducking his head to stare at the trashcan.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says, followed by a gravelly laugh. You gulp, waiting for him to explain.

“I want somethin’ from ya,” he finally looks up at you, wiping his mask-less jaw with his hand. “Somethin’ that isn’t…money.”

You slightly confound your head. “Like I said…anything,” you amend.

He sticks his tongue in his cheek, drops the tainted paper into the trash, and then takes slow, deliberate steps towards you.

You inhale as he stands before you, unsure of his intentions. Exhaling sharply only when he brings his thumb up, dragging it delicately across your jaw, tilting it up so you are looking at him.

“I think we could figure out a way for you to get that work paid in full,” he rumbles, brushing his thumb against your bottom lip. “And a way I could feel that pretty pussy around me.”

Your eyes widen at his words, dumbfounded by his sheer bluntness and vulgarity. Though you admit, you feel a knot start to form in your lower stomach and more wetness pool between your thighs.

“Unless you don’t want to?” His tone his monotone, no signs of resentment as he drops his hand from your face.

“No—I do,” you affirm, even grabbing his hand and then dropping it from embarrassment. “I just didn’t think…you, uh, liked me like that,” you mutter, shifting on your feet and shifting your gaze to the concrete floor you both stand on.

“Oh, trust me. I like you like that,” he laughs lowly, stepping closer to you, bringing his hand back to the same spot to brush his finger against your pouty lip. “Can I?” He questions his gaze on your lips. You nod, standing on your tiptoes, gripping his neck, and bringing his lips to yours. You could taste remnants of cigarette smoke and the icy tang of Nicorette mint gum.

The kiss quickly became full of fervent urgency. Sloppy lips sucking your own, hands aimlessly gripping any piece of flesh it could, and teeth frantically clashing with your own.

“You do this with all your clientele?” you tease as Simon grips the bottom of your shirt and quickly pulls it off your head.

“Nah,” he coolly says, hands palming your breasts over your bra. “Just the ones I jerk off to.” You gasp at not only his hands on such a sensitive part of you but also his confession.

“You jerk off to me?” you tentatively ask, bringing your hands to grip the hem of his shirt, slipping it off his head. His lips instantly connect with your neck.

“What about it?” he murmurs against your skin, dragging his tongue from the side of your neck to your lips.

“I just…I finger myself thinking about you,” you admit in between his feverish kisses, which are apparently taking away your sense of shame. He pulls back only a little.

“You’re tellin’ me…” he reaches down to bring your hand up, grazing your fingers with his own. “You plunge these in your pussy, thinkin’ about me?” he stares at your fingers, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing. He darts his eyes to yours. “I get you off?”

“Of course you do,” you attest, dragging your hand so it rests on his cock that is tucked away in his greased stained jeans. He groans at your touch.

“Now let me see what I’ve been imagining.”

He wastes no time stripping you bare, throwing your bra and panties off to the side, before he unlatches his belt, roughly yanking his jeans and boxers down just below his thighs.

He grips the back of your thighs before hauling you over to a wood table that currently holds some pens and a toolbox. His lips connect with your collarbone, then to the fat of your breast, as you lazily stroke his cock.

“Little smaller than I imagined,” you cheekily say before Simon lightly nips at your nipple with his teeth, making you moan. He laughs against your skin, sending vibrations throughout your entire body.

“And yet it still makes you fuckin’ wet,” he cockily says as his hand slips to graze your glistening cunt. You don’t even talk; you have no breath left to speak. So, you let out a pathetic noise instead—somewhere between a moan and whine.

“Let me play with ya for a minute,” he murmurs into your ribs, pointer finger brushing against your labia. You squirm at his touch.

“Simon. I just…I need you in me,” you beg, pulling him by the hair so his ear is by your mouth, rocking your hips against his finger in you.

“I’m gonna come as soon as I’m in you, Sweetheart,” he says honestly, pointer plunging into your cunt, gently touching your clit.

“I don’t care…just…just,” you rasp, unable to speak with his hand plunging into you.

“Fine, fine,” he says. He gives his cock a tug before he pokes your entrance with the head, gripping your hips before he pushes inside you a little. He grits his teeth at the sensation, and you whine at the slight pain.

“Open up for me. Come on,” he hisses, throwing his head back as he sinks deeper into you. “There she goes,” he praises, gripping one of your legs and positioning it so it lies straight up against his body. You both groan at the deeper contact.

“Shit,” you curse as Simon starts up a good pace. His cock managed to graze you in all of the right spots—reaching places you didn’t even know was possible.

You knew you both wouldn’t last long at this pace—you’re honestly not so sure he would have lasted at any pace. He was painfully hard when you hadn’t even whipped your tits out.

Though you thought the jokes were on him, as soon as he brought his thumb to stimulate your clit, you were skewing curses, tightening around his cock.

“Fuck. That’s it…that’s—” he panted out as he felt you clamp around him, hearing you yell, ‘Coming,” before he followed with his orgasm.

Once both of your orgasms have subsided, he helps you off the table to grab your clothing. You gently tug on your lip before you speak.

“Also…about the payment?” You shyly question as he pulls his jeans up.

“Consider it handled,” he says with a smirk as he zips up his jeans.

a/n: bye once again i abused the italicized button

reblogs & comments are encouraged!