#and fuck you if you’re silent about this as well

[quarterlifekitty]

Promethean

fuckboy!Soap x Shy!Reader x Ghost (college!au) p.2

Uhh warning soap isn’t in this chapter and reader isn’t acting very shy rn lol

Simon managed to drag you, shocked and still on shaky legs, into his surprisingly clean car and across town to a little cafe. The guy with eye bags behind the counter starts making his order as soon as he comes in the door— must be a regular.

At the counter he points to a couple of items in the display case, before prompting you— you stutter out your go-to, and Simon whips out a beat-up debit card before you can think to pull out your wallet.

The largest size of earl grey almost looks normal in his large hand, a plate of pastries in his other mitt. You grab your own drink and follow where he tilts his head in gesture.

When you sit, he pushes the plate towards you. Like he’s dropping a fresh kill at your doorstep—a courting gift. Eat. Be provided for, sensitive doe. You pick up a danish, if only to ease the clench of his fist on the table. He pulls the black surgical mask down to sip his tea in a way that’s almost hilariously delicate given his permanent scowl.

You couldn’t have sat in silence for more than 10 minutes. But it feels like a lot longer.

“Simon. What are we doing here?” You probe quietly. Saying his name when you’ve never actually been introduced to each other feels wrong. Like you’ve stolen a piece of him that he hasn’t given freely.

“He never takes you out,” he grunts. As if that explains anything.

“It’s not… what we have isn’t like that.”

——

Simon chews on your overly diplomatic response for a minute. That’s what it must be, chewing— why else would he grind his teeth together when his tongue is still wet with his favorite soothing beverage?

You’re kind. Kinder than the mutt deserves.

“But you want it to be.” He says it with an almost biblical level of finality. Your pastry making the plate clink against the table as you drop it back down.

“What would you know about what I want?”

“You’re an easy read. S’how y’got yourself in this situation. Soap’s not exactly a rocket scientist when it comes to chattin’ up birds, you’re jus’ an open book.”

Simon shamelessly stares at your lips as they quirk in anger— so unused to vitriol. It’s gorgeous.

“So he’s using me. I know. Is that what this was about? Taking me on a pity date to let me down gently? Or did you just wanna see if you could have a go as well?”

Seeing you like this. It’s something else. He’s seen you mope around so many times, silently begging for crumbs that will never be tossed your way. It’s even harder to pull his gaze from you, now that you’re hissing. He wants to dig his teeth into your heart shoulder and rip out the bruise Johnny left you with.

Soap is his best friend.

“He’s a dickhead. You don’t need him. You’ll find something better.”

Simon has never been what he would call “something better”. Not in any sense. But this might be the first time he’s wanted to be.

“I won’t,” you say with the lower half of your face hidden by the sipping of your drink. As if it’s quenched your fire, and all that leaves you is vapor. “I’m not… the type.”

He gets it. Really, he does. He’s not the type either— or so he’s thought. You’re making him wonder if he’s imagined that about himself— the same way you’ve clearly imagined it about yourself.

“What’s the rest of your day look like?”

“…Nothing set in stone.” The not that it’s any of your fucking business goes unspoken, but is plain to see in the air between you.

“Lemme take you around. On a date. Be mine for today. If y’hate it, I’ll drop you back at yours and the next time you come round, I’ll mind my business and keep the door closed.” Well, that’s the most you’ve ever heard him say in one go. And it begs a question.

“What happens if I like it? You’ll fuck me in a different room of the same frat house?” Your unimpressed look makes him feel ravenous. She-wolf is threatening to turn her eyes from the display. Rejection. Not an option. “Or maybe you’ll ask me to go steady,” you huff under your breath like it’s a bad joke.

“If y’like it, then you’ll stay mine, and y’won’t fuckin’ want for anything. You’re supposed to be worshipped, not begging for scraps at a mutt’s door.”

He really didn’t mean to say it like that. He meant to bite his tongue. He’s trying not to think of how hot it would be if his intensity scared you into pissing yourself. He’s trying not to let himself show through the lines. It’s not working. Any of it.

The venomous bile that spills from behind his teeth reminds him that his eloquence is just one of many reasons why he’s single. Why he should be muzzled instead of kept. He doesn’t know why he’s taking it upon himself to do this. Selfishness, maybe. There’s plenty of better men he could’ve put up to the task, easy. The man who wants to feel blood on the back of his throat makes a terrible savior.

He feels like he can see your pupils dilate. You pick up your danish again and take a bite. You hold it out for him to try. It’s a test. You don’t think someone with eyes like his can handle doing cutesy, saccharine things. Like what couples do. That must be it.

He tries not to think of his teeth going past the flakey flesh of the pastry and sinking into your fingers. When his tongue meets the butter between the layers, he tries not to think of the salt sweet flavor of your sweat and tears. A seed from the blackberry jam gets thoughtlessly crushed between his molars— he hopes the bitterness will suddenly wake him up and he won’t be a beast crying for love at the heart of the world anymore.

It doesn’t.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Batboys and reader doing the hear me out cake trend and reader pulls out a picture of Bruce when he was in his prime.

Apologies anon but this trend…Do not get me started on how misconstrued the phrase ‘hear me out’ is. I’ll rant about how a lot of ppl should look up the definition first. I’m very passionate about how butchered the trend is that every time I see one I can’t help but think ‘not a hear me out, try again or don’t to save my small remnants of sanity.’ I hate it so much.

Dick

Pouts.

‘My dad? Really?’ He’d ask you.

‘Yeah, what can I say he was a total hunk.’ You shrugged.

‘Was?!’ Dick replied, looking at you as though you had grown a second head. ‘What is he now then chopped liver? Do you not like older men?! Do they loose their charm the moment they have a few grey hairs and lines on their face?!’ He exclaims.

This wasn’t what you were expecting when doing this challenge because now you were being grilled by dick on whether you’ll still feel attractive to him when he himself gets old and grey.

‘I don’t have anything against older men dick, I just find your dad hot in this specific picture.’ You defended yourself and dick only puts his hands on your shoulders and gives them a firm squeeze as he presses his forehead against yours.

‘Sweetheart I don’t think you understand because what do you mean you find him hotter in the picture?! It’s Bruce the man is just naturally photogenic!’ Dick tells you. ‘You could’ve chosen a recent picture of Bruce and say the exact same thing.’

‘Eh, it’s not the same thing.’ You say and dick felt as though he might as well rip his hair from his head because what do you mean it’s not the same thing?! He was now more certain that you didn’t like older men if Bruce was only appealing to you in his youth, his supposed prime.

Needless to say the conversation diverted from the fact that you found his dad hot, to one where dick was trying to prove to himself that you just didn’t like older men/ silver foxes for whatever absurd reason.

Jason

He’s oddly silent.

You feared you did something the moment you pulled the picture of young Bruce Wayne out to put on the cake.

The wait was over the moment he did decide to say something but it was nothing like you’d expect to come out of his mouth;

‘Out of all the pictures there are of Bruce, that’s the one you picked? Nothing about that picture is flattering to him in any way whatsoever.’

‘Oh you’re just jealous.’ You’d tell him and Jason only raises his brow at you.

‘Jealous, babe have you seen me? What’s there to be jealous of that old bat.’ Jason replies as he gestures towards himself before pinching your cheeks. ‘I just think it’s adorable how you consider Bruce in his prime as a hear me out, it’s laughable really but you do you chipmunk.’ He adds.

However when you weren’t looking, he’d take the picture of Bruce from the cake and throw it over his shoulder, for there was no way in hell he was going to have a picture of Bruce on a cake. No sir, Jason would much rather die again than allow his own father to overstay his welcome on the damn cake.

He’d even act innocent when you would ask where the picture went as though he didn’t set it on fire with a lighter after plucking it off the cake. ‘It must’ve grew legs and walked off.’ He’d shrug but it wasn’t hard to know the truth.

His dad can fuck off away from the cake and you.

Damian

Another one who’s not so amused by the fact that you added his father on a ‘hear me out’ cake.

He doesn’t partake in such stupid trends that’ll sooner or later long forgotten by the public consciousness in favour of a new trend that’ll run itself to the ground just as quickly as the last. He questions the publics attention span if it was this short and unreliable, he really does and fears that the age of stupidity has begun with people who think a conventional attractive man with a Roman nose or any other unique feature is a ‘hear me out.’

As if they were any less attractive than a man with a plain featured, and rather unappealing and basic appearance. They’re weren’t, if anything people with romantic noses or any other unique features were just as attractive as the plained featured ones, and Damian found it rather ridiculous that is what is being considered a secrete that many think they’ll be judged for finding appealing.

‘My father? Really?’ He’d say as he looked between you and the picture of his father.

‘Yeah.’ You shrugged.

Damian only sighed as he crossed his arms over his chest. ‘A conventionally attractive man is you hear me out?’

‘Not just any conventionally attractive man-‘ you tried to explain but Damian didn’t allow you the space to do so.

‘My father in his prime doesn’t count, you should really do better research before putting random people on a cake, or better yet don’t partake in a challenge you don’t understand.’ Was all Damian said before he leaves the room, he’s not impressed and feared that there was too many people who for some stupid reason also though his father in his prime is a ‘hear me out.’

It freaks him out and disappoints him greatly of what the future of Gotham and humanity as a whole would look like if these people were to be at the helm.

Tim

Not amused.

He’s sick and tired of people putting conventional attractive people and anthropomorphic animals who are drawn in a specific way to elicit such emotions out of people.

So to see that you had put his father, more specifically Bruce in his first steps as the dark knight, he couldn’t help but look at you disappointedly.

One, you obviously didn’t understand the concept of a hear me out and Tim is more then ready to educate you on what one is with his long ass PowerPoint presentation. And two, really? His dad? What was wrong with his dad in his current old age? Did you have something against older men?

Wait- why was he so suddenly concerned whether or not you find his father less appealing now than how he looked in his prime? He should be more focused on the fact that you found such pristine picture of Bruce during that time, he’s tried multiple times but the resolution was god awful and didn’t do anything to flatter Bruce.

You’re still getting lectured on what a proper hear me out is though. Tim’s got fucking tons.

[tsukuhoe]

10. please please please

from behind the mixing desk, choso watched you intently. his fingers hovered over the soundboard, ready to adjust levels at a moment’s notice. 

“y/n,” the brunette said, his voice crackling through the intercom. “wanna take it from the bridge again? you’re almost there— just lean into it.” whenever he works, choso’s like a whole new person. more serious, more focused, more professional. 

you nodded, determination flashing in your eyes. you took a deep breath as the instrumental track began to play in your headphones, the rich swell of strings building into a steady rhythm. your voice was raw and soulful when you sang, each word dripping with emotion. choso nodded along, tweaking the EQ slightly as you hit a particularly powerful note. as the song reached its peak, your voice cracked ever so slightly. 

“fuck,” you muttered, pulling off the headphones. 

“it’s okay,” choso said, stepping into the booth. “you’re pushing too hard on the outro… let it breathe. remember, it’s not about being perfect— it’s about feeling it.” 

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i know. i just… i want this to be right. it’s a bit personal.”

choso placed his hand on your shoulder. “that’s exactly why it’ll be great! just sing it for yourself this time.”

you nodded, letting his words sink in. with a deep breath, you slid the headphones back on and faced the mic. choso returned to his seat, adjusted a few knobs, and gave you a thumbs-up. the track started again, softer this time. your voice was vulnerable yet strong as you sang. as you finished, the studio fell silent, your heart racing.

the brunette leaned into the mic, a slow smile spreading across his face. “that’s it, y/n. that’s the one.”

you grinned, the tension in your shoulders melting away. “really?”

“really. it was perfect.”

you ran out the booth, excitedly jumping towards him and pulling him into a warm unexpected hug. choso’s stomach did a flip. his mind racing. was this real? should he hug you back? would that be weird? 

“thank you, cho…” you said softly, your cheek resting against his shoulder and eyes welling up with tears. the brunette blinked, finally letting his arms rise to lightly return the hug.

“are you alright, y/n?” 

you didn’t expect to start tearing up at the question, however, it’s been a rough week with the rumours of sukuna being spotted with his ex all while being in a new environment filming for the first time. not only that, but the recent spike in popularity from your new single has been overwhelming. you couldn’t help but start tearing up in choso’s embrace; presence was so comforting. 

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your hands still resting lightly on his shoulders. “yeah. sorry for getting emotional… it’s been a long week.” you chuckled, wiping the small tears that formed in your eyes. “oh, by the way, i forgot to tell you but i got permission for us to use special grade’s music production rooms— access to them 24/7.” 

choso’s eyes widened and lit up, excited like a puppy seeing a treat. “really?! wait y/n, seriously? that’s awesome!” 

“right, baby! you deserved a reward— so i bargained with the management when they discussed the scream reboot.” 

“thank you so so much! i could not be any happier, oh my god… i can’t believe it! all the new equipment, the space… i mean, can you imagine the quality of their mics? we could make so much more higher quality songs and…” a soft smile tugged at your lips. his voice rose and fell, his excitement weaving through every syllable. 

seconds later, the door swung open, revealing yuji, your producer’s younger brother, wearing a flour-dusted apron and an exuberant smile. 

“choso! y/n!” the pink-haired boy exclaimed, opening the door as the scent of vanilla and cinnamon enveloped the room like a cozy blanket. “the band and i just finished making cinnamon rolls, and we wanted to bring you two some! i’m not interrupting anything, right?” 

“omg thank you so much yuji! that’s so sweet of you!” you smiled giving him a peck on the cheek, as he handed you a plate with two freshly baked sweet rolls. 

choso never wanted to be his brother so badly until this very moment. 

album bonus tracks: — chosoy/n moments omgeee 🥹 — y/n in this chapter was having a panic attack btw if u didn't notice lol — (based on irl experiences when i had one in hs bc of my ex ꃋᴖꃋ) — yuji is so precious omg (adopt him rn!!!) ⋮ MASTERLIST  ֹ⋮  PREVIOUS  ⋮  ֹNEXT  ⋮

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[candycandy00]

I’ve Been a Naughty Girl! - A Sukuna x Reader Fanfic

The mall Santa is hot as hell, and your friends dare you to sit on his lap and tell him you’ve been a very naughty girl! 

Smut. 18+. Sukuna as a mall Santa. Fem Reader. Very rough (but consensual) sex and oral sex. Cream pies. 

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

Part of CandyCandy’s Kinkmas 2024!

The mall is crowded, full of busy shoppers buying last minutes gifts. It’s only three days until Christmas after all. To be honest, you enjoy the hustle and bustle, the excited energy that seems to fill the mall along with the holiday music blasting through the speakers. 

Every store has garland covered in clear lights draped across the aisles, wreaths hang on every door, and in the very center of the mall stands an enormous Christmas tree. 

Your friends came along with you to pick up some items, and the four of you are having a blast. Especially when you walk by the giant tree. At the base of it, there’s a roped off section where kids are lined up to meet “Santa Clause”. 

One by one they sit on his lap, tell him what they want for Christmas, and smile for the commemorative photo. You have fond memories of doing that as a kid, but you don’t remember Santa ever looking like this. 

You and your friends all stop and stare, your mouths slightly open and your eyes wide. Because this Santa is hot as hell. He’s huge, tall and muscular enough to make the big red chair he’s sitting in seem tiny. The fake beard does little to cover the black tattoos on his face, and pink hair is sticking out of the back of his hat.

The kid on his lap is screaming, throwing a loud tantrum while the mother seemingly pays it no mind. The little boy is yelling about some kind of toy he wants that the store is sold out of, demanding that Santa make one for him and bring it Christmas morning. 

You watch as the buff Santa leans down and whispers something into the kid’s ear. The boy instantly falls silent, looking up at Santa with a terrified expression. The boy doesn’t move a muscle or make a sound until the photo is taken and his confused mother pulls him off Santa’s lap. 

“Wow,” one of your friends says beside you, “I wouldn’t mind being on his naughty list.”

You laugh and say, “Same. He can deck my halls any time!”

All of you giggle, then your friends start to walk away. You stay rooted to the spot, still watching the man. There’s an animalistic attraction drawing you to him, something primal and powerful. You just can’t look away from him. 

Your friends look from you to the Santa, probably noticing the look of lust in your eyes. 

“Just go talk to him,” one of them says. 

“And say what?” you ask. “I can’t just walk up to the mall Santa and tell him I wanna fuck him!”

Your friend grins. “Actually, you can. Get in line and go sit on his lap.”

“Oh come on, that’s for kids! They’d probably kick me out of the mall for that,” you say. 

Your other friends have stepped back over, wearing excited expressions. 

“Do it!” one of them cheers. 

“I dare you!” the other says. 

You look back toward the Santa, and his eyes suddenly shift up, meeting yours. A smile spreads over his face, but it’s not the jolly Santa smile you expected. This is a devious, predatory smile. All teeth. 

God, you’re already getting wet. 

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you announce. “But if I get in trouble you guys better be ready to bail me out!”

Your friends laugh and playfully push you toward the line. When you get there, the kids and parents give you looks ranging from confused to offended. It’s embarrassing to be standing there, but it’s the only idea you have for talking to this very sexy Santa. 

The wait is torture. With every child that takes their turn, you get closer, and you grow more nervous. What if he thinks you’re being ridiculous? What if you just imagined the attraction in his gaze when he smiled at you? 

Oh well, it’s too late to back out now. The child in front of you in line is smiling for the photo, and you’re next. 

When it’s your turn, the “elf” ushers you forward, seeming completely disinterested in an adult wanting to meet Santa. Maybe others have done this today. You wouldn’t be surprised. 

You gather your courage and walk over to Santa. You’ve been mentally rehearsing what you’re going to say, how you’re going to get him all riled up. You’re hoping to leave with his number. 

He pats his lap when you’re standing right in front of him, and you giggle nervously as you sit on one of his muscular thighs. As soon as you do, he reaches down and pulls both your legs up, so that you’re fully sitting across his lap. His hand is resting on your thighs, just above your knees. 

You’re so glad you wore a short skirt today. 

The “elf” suddenly looks concerned, their eyes darting about to see if anyone else is noticing this inappropriate scene. They’re probably wondering if they should say something. In that case, you should probably act fast. 

“Santa, I’ve been a very naughty girl this year,” you tell him in your sweetest voice. 

His grip on your thigh tightens slightly. “I happen to like naughty girls,” he replies, his voice deep and smooth. “So what do you want for Christmas?”

You giggle again, shifting just a little, enough for him to feel your ass moving in his lap. Then you lean in close to his ear and say, “I want a big, tall guy with tattoos to fuck me until I can’t walk.”

You expected his eyes to widen in surprise, perhaps a shocked expression. But no, this Santa simply grins at you. “If that’s what you want, I can give you your present right now.”

Huh? Right now?!

He slides you off his lap and stands up, taking you by the hand and leading you away from the chair. The elf looks horrified. 

“Hey, your break’s not for another hour!”

Some of the kids begin whining, crying out, “Where are you going, Santa?”

A parent huffs an incredulous, “We’ve been waiting in line for thirty minutes!”

Santa has nearly pulled you to the edge of the roped off area before he stops and turns back to look at them all. He gives them a look. Just a single glance, and it’s enough to silence them all. Then he lifts the rope, pulls you under it with him, and heads to the south end of the mall. 

You let yourself be pulled. With every step, your heart beats faster. Where is he even taking you?

He makes a turn down a hallway, toward the restrooms. Is he going to fuck you in a stall? But no, he walks right past them and through a door clearly marked as “Employees Only”. 

Your excitement builds even more. Now you really do feel naughty, stepping into a section of the mall you’re not supposed to be in. As a kid you once snuck into an area like this in another mall, and even though nothing happened, you still felt like such a rebel. That same feeling is creeping back into your mind. Because this time, something will definitely happen. 

He leads you past several doors, probably break rooms and offices, before opening one and pulling you inside. It’s pitch dark until he flips on the light switch, revealing an empty office. There’s a couple of desks but no computers on them or even chairs to sit on. You suppose that’s why no one is using it. 

The lock on the door clicks, and your heart nearly stops. You turn to face him, but just as you do, he suddenly rushes forward, pushing you against the nearest wall in the cramped little room and covering your mouth with his. You don’t even remember when he pulled the fake beard off. 

Apparently he’s not interested in chatting or even exchanging names. “Santa” it is then. 

You raise your arms when he pauses to pull your sweater up and over your head, then unhook your bra yourself just to speed things up. You’re as hungry for him as he seems to be for you. 

He yanks down your skirt, leaving you in cute candy cane striped panties and your red ankle boots. Before stripping you any further, he practically tears off the black leather belt around his waist and jerks open his red Santa coat. 

Oh. Oh god. Those tattoos line his well sculpted torso, absolutely mesmerizing you. Your mouth goes dry, your pussy gets wetter, and you can’t resist putting your hands on his chest, tracing the black inky lines with your fingers. 

He allows you a few seconds to admire his body, then puts one firm hand on your bare shoulder. “Kneel,” he says in an authoritative tone that sends a shiver down your spine. 

You’re happy to comply, dropping to your knees in front of him as he unbuttons his pants. You watch with breathless excitement as he lowers his pants slightly and pulls out the biggest cock you’ve ever seen. In thickness and in length, no other cock can even compare. Fuck, he’s going to wreck you. 

Leaning forward, you place one hand on the meaty organ. Your fingers can’t even reach all the way around it, but you begin stroking it anyway before giving it a few kitten licks just to tease him. When you look up, you realize he’s not a man to be teased. 

Not the least bit amused, he says, “Open your mouth, naughty girl.”

You open as widely as you can, and he shoves into your mouth, instantly hitting the back of your throat. You gag, but keep yourself under control. He grips your hair with one hand and begins pumping in and out, your lips automatically tightening around him while your tongue fights to keep moving along his length. Your throat’s going to be raw tomorrow, but right now you don’t care.  

He keeps moving, keeps shoving himself down your throat while holding your head steady. You’ve never had your mouth fucked so aggressively before, but it’s got you so turned on, your hand slips down the front of your panties. 

You hear him laugh above you as his grip on your hair tightens. “You really are a naughty girl, huh?”

His cock is throbbing in your mouth, his pulse quickening as your throat constricts around his tip. You think he’s close, but it’s another five minutes before he pulls almost completely out and then shoots his entire hot sticky load onto your tongue. His cum floods your mouth, so much that you’re struggling to swallow it all fast enough to take a breath. 

When you finally get it all down, you pant for a few minutes. He helps you to your feet, which is likely the closest you’re going to get to gentlemanly behavior. 

Which is fine. There’s plenty of sweet guys you can call if you wanna be fucked like a delicate princess. Today, you want to be ruined. 

His hands are on your hips before you have time to be shocked that he’s hard again already. With one jerk, your panties are in shreds. Then he’s lifting you up by your waist and shoving you against the wall, his own body pinning you there, your feet dangling above the floor. 

He wastes no time with talking or asking if you’re ready. He knows you’re drenched and practically in tears, wanting him inside you as soon as possible. So he buries himself completely in your warm, tight pussy, going all the way in, pressing into your cervix. 

For a moment, you see stars. You open your mouth but no sound comes out. But then he begins thrusting, and you find your voice. 

“F-fuck…! S’too big!”

He grins down at you. “Oh? I thought a naughty girl like you could take me.”

Not wanting to be outdone, you wrap your legs around him and clench as tightly as you can, your hands moving up to hold onto his shoulders. “I can take you, Santa,” you say, though your voice is shaky. 

You’ve never felt so full in your life. It’s like he’s hollowing you out. But your arousal is dripping out around him and you can feel your pulse in your clit. His hard body rubs across it with every thrust, leaving you moaning and babbling. 

“So good… gonna cum… please let me cum, Santa!”

“Not yet,” he says, fucking into you even harder. You whine and wrap your arms around his neck, pressing your teary face into his wide shoulder. Your whole body is trembling. 

He suddenly shoves in so deep, you think he’s in your rib cage. “I’ve got an extra special present for this naughty little pussy,” he says. “So take it!”

With that, thick ropes of cum shoot inside you, even more than he shot in your mouth. And as he’s filling you up, he says, “Now you can cum.”

You release all the tension in your body, stop fighting the raging orgasm that’s been beating on your door, begging to be let loose. You cum so hard you cry, clinging to his neck while you quiver in his arms and his cum continues spilling into you. 

Once it’s over, your spent legs slide from his body and he pulls out, letting your feet touch the floor again. Cum pours out of your pussy, dripping down your thighs while you pant and lean against the wall. 

After a few minutes, you stumble over to an empty desk and place one hand on it to keep yourself steady. 

“Uh oh, looks like you can still walk,” you hear Santa say. With wide eyes you look back at him. He’s grinning that same predatory grin. “Guess I haven’t granted your wish yet.”

You can only let out an exhausted groan as he bends you over the desk and lifts one of your shaky legs up, plunging his cock back into your sticky, cum filled cunt. 

Maybe you bit off a little more than you can chew with this Santa. But it’s a Christmas you’ll never forget. 

As his hand reaches down and around to rub your aching clit, you cry out in pleasure, your fingernails scratching the chipped paint on the desk. And you realize he’s just getting started. 

He laughs when you start babbling again, fucking you even harder as he says, “Looks like you’re getting what you want for Christmas, naughty girl!”

Tag List:

@coldluminarykoala @atomicweaselpaperapricot @chocoyanchan @calculust-prime 

[childrenofcain-if]

When I saw the snippet where Mc was being just plain mean, I came running to ask you how would it go if an argument breaks out between Mc and C because Mc is a little too condescending about C's broken knee which leads to them getting called out for being an arrogant jackass? My Mc means well but god they're such an asshole 😭

the only clearly audible sound in C’s suite was the low hum of the heater working overtime against the december chill.

but you could still hear C’s uneven steps, their limp heavier than usual as they crossed the room. you supposed that ever since they had told you about it, they’d gotten more comfortable about not hiding it from you anymore.

yeah, the limp wasn’t new, but it was worse tonight. C’s gait was uneven, jagged, every step catching slightly as if the bones in their knee were grinding against each other. you’d been watching it for weeks now, how they soldiered through it, jaw tight and posture straight, as though sheer willpower could replace cartilage.

tonight, though, after watching them wince when they thought you weren’t looking, you decided it was enough.

“C,” you began, and they stopped in their tracks. the way they turned, furrowed brows and jaw clenched, should have been enough warning to stop you from saying the next words. but you were you—brazen, brilliant, thoughtless. “i noticed you’re limping worse than usual. maybe it’s time to consider getting a cane.”

you saw their expression hardened immediately, but you kept going, your voice infuriatingly calm, like a teacher correcting a student.

“it would make things easier for you, don’t you think? i mean, i know it’s not ideal, but considering the structural integrity of your knee—”

“the structural integrity of my knee?” C repeated your words incredulously. “you’re really pulling out your SAT vocabulary for this, aren’t you?”

“what are you talking about?” you asked, your own voice rising now, confused about their reaction. “i’m just trying to help, C. god, i don’t know why you have to make everything so difficult.”

“are you this fucking dense?” C’s voice cracked on the word, and they took a step closer to you, their hands clenched at their sides. “you think i want to be like this? you think i don’t know how i look, how i walk? i don’t need your—” they broke off, shaking their head, their face a mask of barely-contained fury.

“i never said any of that,” you said, but it didn’t seem to matter.

“no,” C said, their voice cold. “you didn’t have to.”

you could feel the argument spiraling out of control, but you didn’t know how to stop it. instead, you reached for something—anything—to regain the upper hand.

“you’re being obstinate,” you said, and the word felt strange in your mouth, too big, too formal, but you didn’t care. “you’re acting like an overly sensitive child.”

C’s eyes narrowed, and they let out a harsh, humorless laugh.

“obstinate,” they repeated, rolling the word around like it was a sour taste in their mouth. “jesus christ, could you sound any more condescending? do you ever stop trying to sound like you swallowed a thesaurus? what, you think using words like that makes you better than me? smarter than me?”

“that’s just how i talk,” you snapped, your voice sharp and venomous, the words spilling out before you could think them through. “i’m sorry if it’s not simple enough for you to understand. i’m sorry you always jump to conclusions without hearing me out. i’m sorry that your father never bothered to teach you words like that—he was too busy bashing your head against the wall of your old house while you apologized for even existing.”

the room went silent.

C stared at you, their mouth slightly open, their chest rising and falling like they couldn’t quite catch their breath. their face was now pale, and their chalcedony green eyes blazed with something that wasn’t just anger—it was hurt. deep, raw, soul-deep hurt that made your heart squeeze uncomfortably.

“fuck you,” they said finally, their voice low and trembling with barely-contained fury and tears. “fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.”

“C—” you started, but they flinched when you stepped closer, their body jerking like you were the one who struck them.

“don’t,” they said, their voice sharp and broken all at once. “don’t fucking touch me.”

and then they were gone, the door slamming behind them so hard it rattled the walls.

you stood there, the words still hot on your tongue, searing and damning. you could still see the look on their face, the way their eyes had gone wide and vulnerable, the way they’d looked at you like you’d taken something sacred and smashed it to pieces.

you sank onto the couch, your head in your hands, the weight of your regret pressing down on you like a boulder. you hadn’t meant it. you hadn’t meant any of it. but meaning didn’t matter now. the damage was done.

you’d known—instantly, the moment the words left your mouth—that you’d crossed a line. not just crossed it, obliterated it. and now, the consequences were as painful as the regret slicing through you.

and you were alone, left to drown in the bitter aftertaste of your own words.

[echojays]

── .✦ date night 

✮ . ⠂ phillip graves x reader 

wc; 1.3k 

summary; a dinner date with phillip has you reminiscing about the first time you met. 

warnings; reader wears a dress and a necklace but no female pronouns are used? does this count as fem reader ? idk . 

a/n; smbody sent in an ask saying how much they liked the other fic but i deleted it on accident and i can't get it back and i actually like threw my hands above my head in grief and guilt at my actions. sorry anon. this one is for you. sorry it took so long to write also !! i have actually been crashing out and getting throttled by my bpd and also transferring colleges and fighting for my life in general so i have not been able to write at all. but we persevere in the name of phillip graves x reader fanfiction. amen.

— — —

His hands are warm as they brush against the nape of your neck. They’re always warm. He’s always warm. The man could be a fucking space heater with the temperature he’s constantly running. 

Your eyes flick up to his reflection in the mirror— he’s lasered in on getting this damn necklace clasped. He furrows his brow as he misses the chain loop with the clasp again, shuffling a little closer as he lets out an aggravated huff. He’s not used to being so wholly gentle with you. You give him grace. 

He’s getting practice in— you’ll give him that, too. You wake up to coffee and a kiss most mornings when he's home, and he’ll scratch your back if you toss and turn in bed for too long (which, by his definition, is any amount of time at all). You conclude that gentleness is something not learnt all at once. The same man you’ve watched disassemble and clean a gun with a precision you didn’t know was possible has just fumbled getting this necklace around your neck for the third time in a row. 

You’d offer to do it yourself, but you know better than that. It’s a matter of his pride at this point.

It’s four more tries until he finally gets it. He throws his hands up like he just won the lottery before kissing the back of your neck. 

“Jesus Christ. I’m never doing that again.”

You smile at his reflection as he meets your gaze in the mirror. There’s a long moment of silence as he appreciates the sight of you. He snakes his arms around your waist and hooks his head over your shoulder, and there’s a selfishly longer moment of silence as he appreciates the sight of you with him. 

“Look at us.”

You have been. You raise an eyebrow. 

“What about us?”

“Pretty couple.” He states simply, pulling away to grab his car keys off the dresser and spinning them around his finger. “You ready to roll?”

Everything on the way to the restaurant reminds you of your first date.

You remember that evening perfectly well, both of you a bit more timid and a hell of a lot younger. It was a blind date a mutual friend had set up, which scared the hell out of both of you. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of each other at first. You certainly weren’t sure what to make of his beat-up Silverado when you saw it pulling into your driveway. But the date went perfectly, and the one after that, and the one after that. The truck, you soon learnt, didn’t matter— the boy that drove it around was a keeper. 

At some point you convinced him to retire it get a new one. The new one was lifted, much to his delight and much to your dismay, especially as you’re practically crawling up the side of it in your dress to get in the front seat. His hand finds the small of your back as he helps you up and in. The door shuts beside you, and the car is silent for a moment. You fold your hands in your lap and look down at the ring on your finger. 

Things changed— like they always do— after the two of you met. He wasn’t a marine anymore, he was a CEO. A commander. New paychecks. New truck. New house. New scars. Coming home with a fresh red line across his cheek and a bit of his ear gone. You plainly remember getting upset about how close of a call it must have been. Taking his head in your hands and staring at it. Contemplating how near whatever caused it came to striking him through the head. 

You kissed it and told him he pulled it off well. He remembers that. 

He shuts the driver’s side door and the truck rumbles to life. His hand finds your thigh on instinct, idling there as he pulls out of the driveway and starts down the state road out from the house. That’s another thing that’s changed, you count,— is that six or seven?— it all feels a lot more natural than the first time. You both sit in silence the entire car ride, but it’s not the same awkward, unsure silence that you two tried desperately to fill on the first date. 

There’s nothing either of you can think to discuss and that is perfectly okay with the both of you. Your hand rests on his as you watch the trees go by. 

He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. 

Time with you doesn’t need anything particularly exciting, anything spurring it forward and keeping it full. Initially, all the showmanship he loves very much was good cover for how horribly smitten he was over you. Remarkably, he found, it worked. You were enticed, charmed, and unbeknownst to him, saw straight through the flamboyant bullshit and determined to rip it all away.

You met him— the real him— in bits and pieces as he let them show. You fell in love with him again and again. 

Unfortunately, he still very much enjoys getting a rise out of you. Him and his smart mouth are a package deal. 

He pulls into the lot and helps you out of the truck. The restaurant is, as you note out loud before stepping inside, “fancy as hell”. 

You’re seated quickly in a small booth in the back corner, the candle in the middle of the table lighting up both of your faces. You smile softly at him. He grins. You can’t tell if he’s about to say something cocky or sweet. 

You wordlessly raise your brows, tilting your head slightly. Spit it out.

He does. “You look amazing.”

Not cocky. Unexpected.

You’ll take it. 

You lean forward, weight against the table as you shift and pluck the menu from between the two of you with a smile. “You say that a lot.”

“I mean it.” He hums, ankle bumping against yours under the table. You can’t tell if the contact is on purpose, if this is his way of getting a reaction out of you under the facade of  being genuine. “Every time.”

If that’s his goal, he wins, and you shoot him a stupid, flustered grin as you flush red. 

The rest of the evening gently moves along. You split a bottle of wine and pick off each other's plates, talking back and forth about work and life and everything that happens when you’re apart. 

He loves you with all of his heart and hates how much you manage to pull from him, how you get him prattling on and on with nothing more than a tilt of your head. It’s an art you’ve mastered, one that, unlike him, you never gloat about. You’ll take your win in silence. 

It’s completely dark out by the time you leave, the moon lighting the lot as the two of you quickly shuffle towards the warmth of the truck. You clamber in before he does, starting the car and turning the heat on high. He pulls himself into the driver’s seat, slamming the door behind him with a huff. 

The ride back home is similarly quiet. You sit in the hot air, head tilted back and eyes closed as his hand moves back to its place on your thigh.

He remembers the drive back to your house after the first date. Infatuated and doubly scared shitless. 

He’d walked you to the front steps of your house in silence, and before he could get any words out, you’d asked if you could kiss him. Gave him the grin he’d been flashing you all night that suddenly made him consider that maybe you’d read him to filth, that you’d beat him at his own game, that he was way in over his head. 

Your hand drapes gently over his, thumb running over the wedding ring on his finger. 

He wonders, watching the road visible  in the headlights, how the hell he got so lucky. 

— — —

hey !! it’s me !! echojays !!!!!! thank you for reading !! if you enjoyed this, consider becoming a beta reader— dm me here on tumblr if you’re interested !! you get super awesome early access to everything and i would love to beta read for you if you write in similar fandoms!  (please only reach out if you’re 18 or older!)

p.s. !! art / writing reqs are open, feel free to send in anything !! >:]

[weministertomonsters]

The Alien Emissary

Or, It's Hard To Be An Emissary When Everything In Space Hates You

➤ Wordcount - 1.9k (ignore the double spacing, the format always gets fucked when I write on my phone. I'll fix it later!)

──────────────────

Sweat drips down your temple as you yank the decelerator on the shiny new spacecraft you just stole from a bunch of angry aliens. When your superior broke protocol to squeeze every last drop of advantage out of the deal, the alien race you were negotiating with decided to solve the problem by lighting his ass on fire. Bye, Frank. The show of aggression made everyone trigger-happy, and within seconds, bullets were flying on what had once been neutral ground.

You’re not built for warfare. Your expertise lies in intergalactic extraterrestrial correspondence, preferably from the safety of a comfy spaceship. So you hauled ass and ran for shelter, which just so happened to be the Vathri shuttle; a smallish, compact transportation vehicle nowhere near as flashy as one of their motherships. You had no trouble finding the cockpit and silently thanked the stars for your former career in piloting as you got the shuttle off the ground.

Before the Vathri could notice what was happening, you had sealed the entrance ports to keep them out. There was plenty of spear-waving and shard-snapping, but none of them want to attack their own spacecraft, so you took off without a hitch. By the time they realized you’d taken their only mode of transportation, it was too late. You can only hope they have another way to call their mothership for a ride. You're not too worried because the tech-savvy Vathri are probably already tracking you, thirsting for blood.

You wipe the sweat from your brow and drop into the pilot’s seat, scanning the unfamiliar controls for a tracking system to make sure they can't locate you too easily. Despite your piloting experience, the Vathri controls are difficult to decipher, like trying to use a keyboard made for a foreign language. Every dial and button looks like a potential disaster. Two buttons in particular catch your attention—a blinking red one, ominous and foreboding, placed next to a glowy green button. Some real Matrix-level bullshit. After a moment’s hesitation, you reach for the green button.

A fuzzy sound echoes over the intercom, followed by a glitchy, deep voice: “Inadvisable.”

Well, shit.

“Who’s this? Are you the system?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder just in case. The voice came through the speakers, and there’s no one behind you.

The response takes a moment, but the voice comes again. "No."

"Who are you? Are you one of them?"

"Partially."

"What does that mean?"

"I am Vathri, but I am not with this contingent."

"Um, how's that?" You manage to find the hover feature and turn it on, multitasking figuring the shuttle out and talking to the voice.

"I am a prisoner of the Vathri State."

"Wait, so you're on this shuttle?" Your eyes widen in alarm.

"How else would we be in conversation? I am chained in the hold."

"Great, then stay there. The last thing I want to add to my list of crimes is assisting in a jailbreak," you mutter.

Now that you're hovering, the last thing you want is something sneaking up on you. There are much worse things than the Vathri out here. The Vathri you're talking to takes so long to speak again that you almost forget about it as you search the compartments on the dashboard for a manual. Unlikely, but you're not one to go without checking these kinds of things. Everything is scrupulously clean. There are even any bits and bobs in the compartments. The small square screen in front of you looks like it's for scoping, so you turn that on. Bingo. Your surroundings blink on the screen, which is nice and empty.

"A platoon of Vathri is headed your way," the intercom buzzes. "And they make haste."

"No!" You look at the screen and the prisoner is right.

An indicator has just shown up on the radar and it's coming up fast. The system beeps politely to let you know. You grab the controls and kick the little spacecraft into gear. You might not know A from B, but you do know how to fly things in general. The shuttle shoots forward smooth as butter sliding across a hot plate, and you grapple with the steering, which suddenly seems to have a mind of its own.

"Careful," you mutter, leaning back in the seat and reminding yourself to breathe.

You haven't got a helmet on to enhance your vision, so you have to rely on your human eyesight and just pray you don't fly straight into asteroid spray. There's probably a mode for that on the scoping system but it's beyond your understanding. You can't just mash buttons and hope something goes well. You're sweating again.

"I can assist you."

"I'm handling it," you snap, jolting in your seat. Your almost forgotten about them. "We're fine."

"You have little knowledge of the controls and have effectively made this spacecraft a potential coffin."

"How are you seeing what I'm doing anyway?" You demand, taking a hard right.

The shuttle wheels around so sharply that it does a neat little flip over your pursuers. There's a thump in the hold, and you wince.

"I guess you're not strapped in. Sorry," you mutter. You can't help but gasp when you see the behemoth of a ship that's after you. It's black and the gloss on the exterior makes it look slippery. It's clearly meant for stealth and packed with heavy artillery. The spiked flare on top resembles a shark's fin, and you nearly shear the hull of the shuttle open on it. That's how close the ship is.

"Shit!" You scream. "What the fuck is that?"

"A Deathglider," the imprisoned Vathri says. Their voice sounds far away. "Calm yourself, human. You will lose control."

"That thing is massive! Oh my god, I'm so fucked," you moan, pushing the acceleration as high as it can go.

The Deathglider is too big for quick turns, but it has triple the thrusters and once it curves around, it's quickly gaining on you again.

"I can pilot the craft."

"Not a chance!" You snap. "I'm managing!"

Indeed, you are. If you can turn the correct scoping mode on, you might be able to lose them in an asteroid field. If your sense of direction is still holding true, then you know from the briefing earlier today that there's one nearby. You're confident you can pull it off up until the Deathglider starts shooting at you. The first shot misses by a good twenty feet—or maybe that was a warning—and your mouth falls open as you see the metal shaft of the bullet burning past the cockpit window.

"I'm human, you assholes!" You holler into the air. "I made a mistake, but I'm not that big of a threat! Stop with the missiles!"

"I do not believe they are much interested in you."

"Oh yeah? Then why in the blazes..."

"That was for me."

You gasp and steer to the left as the Deathglider takes a second shot. Another near miss; and now the system is giving you a warning of the engine overheating. Your ride isn't meant to accelerate this fast and for so long.

"What the hell did you even do, kill the Queen?" You demand. "Why do you have a army after you?"

"I fucked the Princess."

"Come again?"

"Is that not the word you use? To fuck—"

"I heard you the first time! I thought you were joking!" You screech.

"They are almost upon us. Let me help you."

This entire time, the Vathri's voice has remained at the same eerily unaffected pitch. If they're scared of dying in an exploding ball of shrapnel, they don't sound like it. You give up trying to do this alone when the next shot takes out one of the thrusters. Luckily, it clips clean off instead of going up in a fiery blaze, but unless there's a miracle, the shuttle will soon be dead in the black water of space.

"Tell me what to do," you say.

"Press the third button to the left of the scoping system. It will mask us. Then turn and fly underneath the Deathglider. It will buy us a few minutes. Long enough to unlock my—"

"Okay, third button, got it." You're panting as the system starts making a blaring sound to warn you of the incoming projectile which is a huge ship hurtling towards you.

You press the button, flip the shuttle over, and dip under the Deathglider with what feels like moments to spare. You book it in the other direction, so concentrated on getting away that it takes you a while to notice that everything is invisible. Including yourself. The visual of space stretching above and beneath you, sparkling with stars, is impossibly beautiful. At the same time, not being able to see your body creates a disconnect with your brain, and your vision starts to go all funny.

"Press the red button!" Finally, there's some haste in that voice. You feel a warm ping of smugness.

"Huh... What button?" You mumble as your ears pop from the pressure. "What?"

"The red-" What comes after that is a jumble of Vathri that grates in your ears like nails on a chalkboard.

It's just enough to prevent you from falling asleep and remind you that you're in some kind of danger. The Vathri told you to do something... Your body moves like it's in a pool of syrup. You know your hands are there somewhere, but you can't see them and everything feels numb. You pat the invisible dashboard, poking at things. You press something and the shuttle powers down and starts to float, tipping belly-up like a bloated fish. With what feels like the last of your energy, you smack your hand down in the spot where you remember the red button to be.

Nothing happens, or so you think. Your eyes start to close. You're strapped into the seat, but it feels like the seatbelt came loose at some point and you're slipping. Your head seems to be drifting away from your body. Suddenly, blinding lights sting your eyes, which snap open and stream with prickling pain. You're coughing and gasping for air as the pressure lifts off of you and you're able to breathe again. The interior has returned, and the scenery of space is whizzing by outside the window as the shuttle flies. You unclip your seatbelt and stand, bumping into something.

It takes a moment for your vision to connect to your brain, which fires up with an enthusiastic thought: that's an absolute unit of an alien. The imprisoned Vathri is now standing right in front of you, leaning over the controls. You did it, you set him free. Your movements still feel a little wobbly, so when you lean in to see what he's doing, you sort of tip off balance against his side. He's warm and it's nice. He glances at you.

"Did you do it? Are we safe?" You ask.

"We have bought ourselves a few hours." He straightens and turns to you. "I apologize for the oversight with the cloaking. I did not realize it would affect you so."

"It's nothing a few minutes won't fix," you reply woozily.

Famous last words, because you end up passing out.

──────────────────

I'm aliveee! Passing out is the easiest way to close a scene but I think I use it too often. Oops? Also, are the spaceship shenanigans accurate to scifi? Don't know, don't care. I had lots of fun writing it and I intend to write more. I have another story somewhere that is very similar to this one. They're kind of the same idea that I just keep sort of rewriting until I'm happy with it? I think I'm happy with it now.

[mrslaflour]

📸 cheese babe.

pairing — taehyun x reader

warnings — noncon filming, restraints, reader is drugged tf out, taehyun totally just cum shotted all over reader, somnophilia things but no sex scene, didn’t proof read shit, all lowercase

notes — VERY QUICK DRABBLE. yes, yes i did post this before grape party kai. this is a tiny drabble to hold you over that i just scribbled down basically :p.

you feel numb. tingles spreading throughout your whole body but you can’t move a single muscle. your eyes can only part slightly, everything else remaining blurry. god, how late is it? was this just another late night nap? you hear a click and then a bright flash come through your eyes causing you to groan.

“you’re awake?”

another voice. in your room? you live alone. you go to speak up but nothing comes out. nothing can come out. it’s like your tongue is just dead and your lips refuse to fully part. you go to sit up but even that task isn’t possible. your arms are stuck behind your back, you finally notice that. but still. you should be able to lift your chest. now you’re worried and your breathing becomes heavier and more strained. it wasn’t until you felt a cold hand press against your chest that you realized you probably were naked. you say probably considering that fact that you can’t move your head to look and you can barely see out of your eyes in the first place.

“you’re my muse for the night. you’re drugged the fuck out though, so if you’re freaking out due to the sensory issues, there’s your answer.”

a man’s voice. that’s all you could get out of what he just said. well, other than the fact that he definitely either kidnapped you or has you out in the back of an alley, once again, you’re literally in the dark. it’s starting to even become difficult to think straight. he moves his hand from your chest and brushes a hair behind your ear.

“i’ll show you the pictures when i’m done and well, when you’re not so out of it.”

he moves away and you hear a few more clicks and see a few more flashes. your eyes shut, and you decide to keep them like that. you feel him push you onto your back and spread your legs open. feeling an extremely cold breeze against your sex. you hear him mumble a few things, but you can’t make them out.

“can you smile?”

it’s silent. you can’t respond and he just laughs. you feel what feels like a giant weight on top of you and two fingers prodding at the corners of your mouth pushing it into a smile and the click of his camera again. that noise was gonna drive you crazy. you feel his arms move lower and start rubbing your sides and gliding through your collarbone.

“i could really have my way with you right now. don’t have to worry about you bitching, screaming for me to stop, pushing me away…”

he pauses.

“but that would be too easy. a struggle is always fun.”

he slaps you and tilts his head to the side with a questioning look on his face.

“could you feel that? are you still there?”

you slightly open your eyes and the tiniest tear pokes out. he hums in content.

“assuming you can hear me, just know you shouldn’t piss me off. i’m not afraid to kill you. it’s not hard for me to find someone new.”

he stands up off of you and you close your eyes again once the camera flash blinds you again. you feel him go to mess with your wrists and the slightest bit of tension seems to be released. he has a hold on one of your wrists and moves it over to your crotch and your other hand to your breast. moving you around like a doll.

“say cheese…”

another click. another flash.

“you look like a fucked out drunk little bimbo. i should live stream this and have people tell me what i should do to you. would give me some more ideas of what positions to put you in for my photos.”

you’re passed out. well…not completely. you can feel everything he’s doing, hear everything, but you can’t think anymore, and you can’t even open your eyes anymore. more tingles bouncing throughout your body.

the sound of a different button can be heard as well as the sound of the camera being placed on the floor. you hear his footsteps come closer to you and the sound of a zipper.

“i know i said it’d be too easy but i have plenty of chances to let you play hard to get after this.”

you hear him groan a couple times before you feel something cold dripping on your stomach and slowly moving up to your face.

“what a shot. can you say cheese for the video?”

he leans down and you feel his hand touch your face before he moves your face on its side. presumably so you can face said camera. you then feel full all the sudden. a sense of splitting in you and you groan. the feeling starts to become painful.

“sh, just lay there and look pretty and let me do all the work.”

he goes deeper in you as he moves up more so he can put his finger on the corner of your lips and moves it up into a smile again.

“say cheese!”

[jam3sacaster]

“Thank God you’re here.”

(Rivals) Basil Baddingham x Reader (Platonic!)

Suggestion by a sweet anon 🫶🏽 / Wherever you and Bas go, mischief follows…

18+ FANFIC / Platonic, super cute relationship with you and Bas! Short Work. Reader character aged at 21. Hope you enjoy! 🩷

Snow lined the nestled edging of The Falconry, winter making itself at home as the evening drew to a close. Inside the lavishly decorated ballroom, Monica Baddingham was laughing uneasily, sipping champagne from an elongated flute. She found conversation with her brother-in-law to be especially soporific, he was only interested in polo and women, whereas she had recently seen The Barber of Seville and wanted to tell him all about it. Adorned in a forest green silk slip dress and black stilettos, you reluctantly slip through the grand doors of the ballroom, surveying the scene and struggling to recognise a face amongst the pompous, reddened faces. “Excuse me, Mon.” Basil silenced her, avoiding eye contact and marching towards the doors. “Thank God you’re here.” He sighed in relief, placing his hands on your shoulders and squeezing tightly. Your timorous expression instantaneously softened at the sight of the olive-skinned beauty.

“I only got invited this morning, something of an afterthought I suppose.” You tutted, dragging Basil towards the bar. “A very, very, very large glass of whiskey and a gin & tonic, please.” Basil asked the barman, leaning against the counter. “You look delectable, darling.” He added, his eyes scanning over the green silk. “Thank you. So do you.” You winked, nodding your head towards the barman as he pushed your drinks towards you, a disgruntled expression wiped across his lips. You leant beside Basil now, both silently judging the self-important, pretentious attendees. “I am…” You begin, sighing wearily. “So incredibly bored.” Basil finished your sentence, trying to locate his stiff upper-lipped brother in amongst the crowd.

“Can you see Tony anywhere?” He asked, raking a hand through his hazelnut-brown hair. Narrowing your eyes slightly, you shook your head in response. “Perfect. Follow me.” Bas smirked devilishly, clamping his hand across yours and leading you out of the ballroom. He knew his way around The Falconry all too well. Guiding you to the upstairs corridor, he hauled open the heavy glazed window and peered onto the driveway — making out the shadowy figure of his brother, puffing away at a cigarette and making monotonous conversation with suited businessmen. “What’s your plan?” You questioned, giggling in excitement. Your partner in crime used his pointing finger to shush you, before pottering into the bathroom.

Basil emerged moments later, frantically yielding a small bucket of water that he’d managed to scope from the airing cupboard, and filled it to the brim with tap water. “Basil… no!” You cackled, watching him hang the bucket over the window ledge. “We’ve got to make this dreadful party entertaining somehow.” He muttered, before dumping the contents of the bucket over his brother’s head. Tony let out a stentorian bellow that reverberated the walls of The Falconry. Through glassed eyes, his hawk-like eyes shot upwards, but you and Basil were too quick, crouching under the window ledge in a roaring fit of laughter. “Fucking hell, his face!” You chortled, smacking Basil’s chest through hyperventilating breath. Bas opened his mouth to respond, but his uncontrollable laughter prevented anything but gasping breaths from departing his lips. Thank God he was here.

[bluebearial]

Untitled Short Story Where You Get Cold

Contains TF (plush), intimacy, and a lot of snuggling.

2.5k Words

I couldn't think of a good title for this!!!! Fuck!!!!!!!!! But you're cold, and you need some snuggles. Jot that down

Docs version here.

Another day, another dollar.

Working from home isn’t the worst thing ever, you suppose. Looking past the mist on your window only serves to reaffirm your decision. Rain comes down in torrents, which are only briefly broken up by the odd gust of wind. You wouldn’t want to drive in that.

Your eyes drift back to your screen. You squint, keeping your eyes from glazing over. Database management isn’t the most intellectually stimulating, and that’s putting it lightly. It only takes a few keystrokes to ensure that company data is labeled properly, before you move on to the next task.

However, it isn’t long before you find yourself tucking your hands under your arms. What a day for the heat to give out in the whole building…

You figured that maybe a pipe had burst, or maybe the whole system was down for maintenance. Either way, it was cold.

As you lift your legs up into your seat, tucking them against your body, you think back to your time out with Lupa on Halloween. You think about your time spent wearing her, how warm she was inside… You met a cute girl or two as well, if you recall correctly.

There’s also what happened later in the night… By the time you’d gotten home and taken Lupa off, you’d been transformed into a plush wolf, much like her. …Or maybe you were a fox? You hadn’t the opportunity to check all that closely before you two snuggled up with each other. You’d never known that spending so much time with your girlfriend would cause her to… rub off on you in that way. Untucking your hands, you look down at them. You’d kinda wished the transformation wasn’t temporary... Sure, you’d have to navigate being a plushie, but you’d be so warm and cute… Feeling the cold creep up your fingers, you tuck them back under your arms. Oh, if only you still had those soft, brown mitts…

Your chair lurches forward as something leans on it, nearly pushing you into your desk. You look up, brushing your head against something soft. A wolf’s muzzle greets you.

“’Sup?”, comes the wolf’s casual, familiar greeting. “You, uh… You good?”

“Oh, hey Lupa,” you reply, a wavering little smile gracing your face. “I’m doing my best!” You untuck your hand to offer a thumbs up, silently regretting it almost immediately. Oughh, so cold…

“You sure?” She puts her massive paws on her hips, adjusting her plush weight with a fabric rustle. “You don’t have to lie to me, babe. I’ve been watching you, and you don’t exactly… look like you’re havin’ a good time.”

“I’m fihhheeeyy…” You try to protest, but a monolithic paw comes down upon your head before the words have a chance to escape.

“Don’t lie to meeeeeee.” She lets out a soft, playful growl as she grinds her cushy pawpads into your hair.

“Alright, alright,” you surrender, turning in your chair and putting your hands on her paw. You’ll admit it… “I’ve been cold.”

“Is that all?” She looks incredulous. “It’s not that cold in here, is it?”

“The heat’s been out all morning!” You fire back, “How did you not notice? …Oh, wait. You’re covered in fur.” She snickers.

“Ha! Guess I am, huh? And, you know…” She hooks a stubby claw into the collar of her green turtleneck sweater, offering you a blushy smile. “There’s this lil’ thing you got me. Pro’lly helps.”

Seeing her makes you blush. You’re glad she likes it… It wasn’t exactly easy finding a sweater for a wolf her size.

“Hey, I’ve got an idea.” As you blush, her paw returns to your head, “Why don’t we snuggle up, huh? No use in you sittin’ out here all alone.”

“W-We could, but…” You open your mouth to offer an excuse of some kind, but you just can’t find the energy to. The way her humongous paw rubs along the side of your head, plastic claws lovingly scritching into your scalp… It’s disarming, calming. The sounds around you seem to muffle and lose definition… For the first time today, you feel… warm. By the time you reopen your eyes – you hadn’t even realized you’d closed them – you’re greeted by a smugly grinning wolf.

“But what, huh?” She asks all too innocently, swaying her hips and swishing her tail.

“Hmmm… Nothing…” You sigh contently.

“Nice! Thought not.~” She lilts. “Come on, let’s—” She only pauses for a beat. When she lifts her paw from your head, she glances up slightly, and her grin only widens.

“…Yeah, I think this’ll work. C’mon, you.~” Before you can question it, her massive, soft arms wrap around you and she’s already carting you off to your room. At least you can hear again. What was up with that?

You can’t help but feel like a child whenever Lupa carries you, especially when you’re under her arm like this. She gives you a reassuring squeeze, smushing half of your face into the side of her generous, sweater-clad chest. Eventually, you end up on her bed.

Your bed, sorry.

It may as well be her bed, though, with how much space she takes up nowadays. Some nights, you find it easier to just lay on top of her. She definitely doesn’t mind it… Today, though, it looks like she has a different plan in mind as she gently sets you down among the blankets, crawling into bed after you. You could feel her loom over you… As you roll a bit, trying to get comfortable, you hear her snicker.

“You’re like a little bug, dude.”

You stop in your tracks.

“Wh—What? What’s your problem?” You ask, brow furrowed as you sit up.

“I don’t got a problem!” She puts her paw up, “I just think you’re small, squirt. But that’s okay, I can help with that.”

You puff your cheeks. Something’s up, you can feel it.

The wolf lays down next to you, reaching up to caress the side of your face. Just like that, your suspicion melts like ice under the sun, and you lean into her polkadotted pawpad. That warmth returns as you close your eyes, and you feel yourself being guided down toward the rest of her body. You didn’t need to see – after all, she was a mattress in her own way. Hard to miss. Your chin rests against the soft material of her sweater. It feels warm, but strangely artificial. You yearn to get closer to her. Thankfully, she grants your wish, and you feel it slide against you as she lifts it by the hem, lowering it behind you. You push your head through her sweater’s collar, brushing up against her snout.

You open your eyes – only a crack – and the sight of her pouty, dark lips greets you. She’s already kissing you, leaving ghosts of warmth wherever her lips touch. A feral little growl, and she pinches your cheek between her plastic teeth, before giving it an apologetic lick. It didn’t hurt, but you appreciate the feeling of her satin tongue all the same. Her paw returns to its familiar spot atop your head, pushing you down against her supple body. You cling to her as best as you can, sifting your fingers through her forest of white and grey fur. You’re always surprised by the amount of ‘give��� her body has as you hug her, squeezing her layers of fur, foam, and cotton.

As your chin settles in her cleavage, she begins to pet and stroke you. Front to back, front to back, she settles into a comfortable rhythm… You close your eyes again, letting out a sleepy little sigh. Her paw glides over your head, your ears, over and over and over again, and you lay there, dozing as you idly squeeze and grope at your girlfriend. The more she pets you, the deeper you fall into your idle haze. You feel softer…

 At some point, you aren’t sure when, she’d freed you from the cozy confines of her sweater. As big as it is, it was still a bit tight on her it seemed. Through the haze, you wonder if you should’ve gotten her the XXXXL instead… You do nothing to stop her as her paws dig underneath your sweatshirt, though you shudder as her fluffy digits contact you directly. They gently glide across your skin, leaving trails of glowing warmth in their wake. Something itches, but you ignore it. You squeeze her some more, noting how your hands possess a certain ‘give’ to them.

“You look adorable, babe.” When you open your eyes, she’s in the process of lifting herself off of you. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy…” You muse, putting a darkly furred hand up to your cheek… A numb sense of surprise spreads over you like a weak breeze, and you sluggishly look at your other paw. Watching the seams shift as you flex your stubby digits. You lift your shirt, gazing down at the plum and cream fur that was steadily growing in over your front. You were sure that your fur had spread all across your back too… Wherever Lupa’s paws had strayed, there was that warmth. And wherever there was warmth, change came with it… In fact-

Yeah. You reached up to the top of your head to find a pair of tall, pointy, twitching ears. Were they there the entire time…?

Meanwhile, Lupa settles onto her knees. She hooks a finger under the hem of her sweater - and she lifts it up to really give you a show. Her white tummy looks especially chubby today, thickly padded and covered in freshly brushed fur. As she pulls her sweater up, she briefly drags her bosom with it, before it falls free and settles with a bounce. The real difficulty comes when her sweater snags on her snout. She wrestles with it for a moment, before popping free.

She twirls her clothes around her finger, straightening her hair with her other paw. Soon, she’s balling that thing up and tossing it in the air, catching it in her jaws. Swallowing it whole, you watch its outline sink down into her depths.

“Don’t gimme that look,” she teases, wiping her paws on her chest, smoothening her fur out, “Trust me, I love your gift, babe. It looks cool on the outside, but… I’ll get more use out of it inside me anyway.~ Now let’s finally get you all warmed up, hmm?”

Weren’t you warm already…? Between the fur and these paws, you’re feeling pretty comfy… She looms over you, though, raising herself slightly so her shadow completely envelopes you. You blearily look up at her, wondering just what she was planning to do. The wolf raises her paws, sticking her tongue out as she leans. Then, like a tower, she begins to fall.

“Better get ready! Here I come~!”

Wait. Wait—

PWOOMF.

Everything is dark. You can’t see- you can hardly move. Something soft is compressing you down into the sheets, keeping you nice and still. It moves every now and then, probably getting comfortable, and grinding you further down into your bed in the process. You lay there, enveloped in stuffy warmth, breathing in your girlfriend’s linen scent. You take a deep breath of thick, plush-smelling air. You greedily fill your lungs with it – or whatever you have that passes for lungs now – before letting it back out. Another shift, and your face is forced between her pillows, cementing the fact that you’re totally smothered in downy, grey softness.

You wag your tail. Did you have a tail before now? It doesn’t matter. It swishes, betraying your joy and hazy euphoria. Your thoughts begin to slow…

One moment bleeds into another, and you aren’t sure how long you spend down here. It almost seems frivolous to keep track. It’s much easier to just lay there… But at some point, light hits your eyes, breaking you out of your slumber. You could feel yourself regain your shape, and a sense of cognizance comes with it. You must’ve been nearly squished flat under her.

“Aaaaafternoon, hun,” comes that sweet, sleepy voice, “Had a good nap?” You simply nod, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You could listen to her all day. “Still cold?~”

Oh, right. The heat was out, wasn’t it? You briefly pat yourself down, barely sitting up enough to get a good look at yourself. When she fell on you, she must’ve completed your transformation in an instant. You look a lot like her now. You’ve gained a few pounds around the middle, and a lot on your hips. Your hair looks a bit shaggier too, but that’s probably because of what just happened.

You feel… bigger too, and not just because you’re as thick as a mattress now. As you sit up and turn to rest your footpaws on the floor, you realize how much height you’ve gained. You’re almost as tall as your girlfriend, but not quite.

Oh, right. Her question.

“The cold? Neeever heard of it…~” You lilt, looking back at her with a toothy grin. Wow, your voice is a little deeper too. Lupa snickers, crawling closer and wrapping her arms around you from behind. Her lips end up on your cheek, and you could just swoon right there.

“…Guessin’ you gotta go back to work now, huh?...”

What a weird question. You tilt your head at her, before it clicks. Right. Work.

Right… Work…

You’d almost forgotten. Your shoulders fall as you let out a groan (more of a growl, really). Plushes shouldn’t have to work…

“Yeah, I guess so…” You sigh. You stand up with a groan, and wow you really have gotten taller. “I’ll see you soon, Lulu.” You look back at her with a little smirk, and she replies with a little wave.

--

You sit back down at your desk, blushing as you find yourself struggling to fit between the armrests. It’s pretty late in the day now, but you figure you could knock out another hour of work before clocking out. As you begin to type, however, you realize something. Your paws are way too big for your keyboard. You’re, like. Pressing at least 5 buttons at once here.

You roll your eyes as you flip your computer shut. You can’t type with mittens like these! How silly of you! But hey, at least you’re not cold anymore.

…You figure that you’ll just start again in the morning. Assuming this wears off in the morning.

And considering how long you were snuggling your girlfriend, you get the feeling it’ll last a good while… (In fact, you hope so.)

For now, you deserve some more quality time with your girlfriend. So with a little effort, you get up, nearly taking the chair with you, and you set off to find her. You’re a plushie, and every cotton fiber of your being wanted to snuggle.

[kristiliqua]

by the way ,

if you do not support palestine , get the fuck out .

/srs . you cannot be neutral on a genocide , and i’m sure as hell not going to let any pro-israel motherfuckers in here . get the fuck out . i don’t want you here , ever . thanks :)

[milkstoner]

I don't have an insta 😔

I do have to respect that honestly.

[malcolm-reeds-pineapple]

When I was growing up the cops got called on my family like a bit but not too much like it was never all the time but I was always the little girl crying on the couch while The Horrors happened around me so one cop was always just assigned to Deal With Me and I knew they were trying to get information out of me but cops were The Enemy so I’d just infodump about my interests at them and I liked watching them desperately try to steer me in the Direction of The Horrors but they couldn’t get a word in edgewise cuz they’d activated my trap card: being a new set of ears that I hadn’t talked off about Green Day

[tojbnuy]

boyfriend!toji who doesn’t know why but he feels this weird jealousy everytime he sees you meet your friends and greet them all with a big hug. you never did that with him. you relationship was still fairly new to the both of you, but you kissed you fucked you even held hands sometimes when walking around. but, what toji was now realizing, was that he wanted a hug. well, he wanted a hug from You. not a casual little hug, a hug. holding each other. he didn’t know how to broach the subject without sounding needy and like the complete opposite of how he usually acts. he had never cared about this kinda stuff with other people, he’d never experienced it growing up and he thought he could live without it. until you. until you showed him that wanting to be held was normal. he’d been thinking about it for a while until one night, as the two of you got ready for bed it simply slipped out.

‘how come you don’t hug me?’

immediately you stopped plaiting your hair and turned to him with a shocked look.

‘what?’

‘how come you don’t hug me? like when you see your friends or you say bye you hug them. you don’t hug me.’

as soon as he said it he felt stupid. a grown man like him, older than you and he was sat here asking for a fucking hug. what if you turned the question around and said ‘well you don’t hug me’ what would he say? that i’ve never done that before sorry i don’t know how? his thoughts came to a stop when he felt a small hand grab his own larger one.

‘i- toji im so sorry. i’m sorry i didn’t think that was something you wanted.’

fuck now he’s made you feel bad.

‘nah doll you don’t have to say sorry, its nothing let’s just go to bed’

‘no toji please. let’s talk about it.’

you lifted the blanket and made your way over to his side of the bed so you could sit face to face. everything about you was so soft, so kind. such a complete contrast to himself. he was panicking, he didn’t do stuff like this, never talked about stuff like this.

‘honestly toji, i really just thought you weren’t a touchy person. i’m sorry for just assuming especially considering everything you’ve been through,’

‘no please doll. i wasn’t trying to blame you for anything. i just’

his palms were actually sweating, but your face. god your darling sweet face, looking at him like he hung up the stars in sky. like every word out of his mouth meant the world to you. you would wait for him to get the words out no matter how long he took.

‘i don’t know to be honest. you’re right i’m not a touchy person i’ve never really hugged anyone. but i want that. with you. and im sorry, i should be the one to initiate it i just didn’t really know how doll.’ his voice was so quiet, just a rough whisper.

he looked up to stare into your glassy eyes when you leaned in and kissed him. a small whisper of a kiss.

‘can i hug you?’ you said with your lips pressed against his.

he knew you knew he would prefer not to dwell on it.

and then he wrapped his arms around your back so tightly like he was showing the universe just how bad he needed you. he pulled you into his lap and let his cheek fall to your shoulder. he felt your arms wrap around his neck and you fingers stroking the hairs at his nape.

neither of you spoke, you simply sat and held each other and made a silent promise to maintain the closeness from today onwards.

‘thank you for telling me toji. you big baby.’

‘yeah that’s enough. time for bed.’

your giggle was music to his ears.

[screampied]

#WANNA PLAY PSYCHO KILLER? t. fushiguro

☆ sum. you know girl, usually when someone’s about to get stabbed, they scream—not moan. ghostface is supposed to be scary, intimidating, terrifying. but what happens when he’s tall, hot, and has a scar that runs down the right side of his lip? maybe his motive this time was to make you scream out his name in another way. welcome to act three.

wc. 7.0k

warnings. fem! reader, ghostface!toji, pwp, roleplay, unprotected, slight dacryphīlia, glove / mask kink, scream spoilers + references, dumbification, knīfe play, biting, he's crazy but your pússy's crazier, fīngering, riding his face mask, hair pulling, first time squīrt, cunnīlingus, pússy drunk toji, spīt, praise, dirty talk, petnames.

➤ kinktober mlist.

“now girl, what the fuck was that,” a husky voice that sounds a bit muffled murmurs out to you. you’re laid on the ground, quite literally seeing the life flash before your eyes as the edge of his jagged knife glimmers against the ceiling light. peeking one open, you’re met with the covered soulless eyes of an infamous ghostface mask, and he’s tilting his head at you. “did i hear ya right?”

as he hovers over you, you speak in a breathy voice. growing sheepish, you glance away. “um, hear what?”

“you moaned, doll,” he replies, and the cottony flaps of his costume brush against your skin the closer he gets. as the coolly aerating air turns dead silent for a few moments, you could hear the sounds of his irregular breaths – deep sinister breaths . . and for some reason, it makes your thighs clench, and not in fear. “right as i said i was gonna gut ya like a fish,” and your own breathing hitched once his gloved finger strokes down your lip. “and i put the knife riiiiiight down here,” he slowly drags the prop down your nearly torn top, “you moaned right as i was about to strike. why?”

“i think . . you’re hearing things,” you rub the back of your neck, but you left off yet another moan the second he slides a knee between your legs.

“nah,” the masked man jibes, and it’s as if he’s staring right through your clothes. with a gloved hand he pulls up his mask, only showing part of his face. he pulls it down inches below his nose as you glance at his scarred lips that show. “think i heard quite well, princess,” and he slowly grazes the soft end of the knife further and further down your skin. “besides, like i said earlier. . i wanna play a game—and we can start with me asking,” and he pauses, leaning up close to your shell of your ear, warm breath tickling against your lobe. “you’re not wearing panties right now, are ya, princess?”

right at his words—your thighs stuck together and you felt a shiver run down your spine. it’s cold, and it made your eyebrow twitch at how insanely turned on you were.

usually, most people would scream or run—hell, even fight back. but it’s different when it’s you.

as he continued to straddle over you, you could have sworn you saw this movie before. .

and now, here you were—helpless indeed and on the floor as he hovers his weight over you, waving a his knife—(a knife that looks like a sort of cheap knockoff version of the one michael myers walks around with) in your face while his other hand mockingly cups your cheek.

“and if i’m not?” you mumble, fixating your eyes solely on the hole parts that shield his eyes.

it’s like you were staring at empty black voids, and no matter how hard you squinted – you just couldn’t see him at all. all you could make out was white and black plastic mask, and as he tilts his head again, he’s returning the gaze. fuck, each time he head tilts and cocks his head to a certain degree—it’s like he’s challenging you, taunting you even, and you’d constantly feel your thighs squeeze together tighter and tighter.

“ah, well,” he thinks for a moment, feeling his covered eyes bore at your body. in his mind, you looked so pretty sprawled all out and underneath him. with your chest heaving in and out as he continues to strum his gloved fingers down your exposed skin, he hums.

“maybe i’d just have ‘ta take a look for myself,” and your breath hitches again once he slowly drags the whetted edge of the knife down your polka dot blouse. with a loud tearing ‘shiiiiek’, a few of your buttons go loose as he’s easily dividing through the fabric with the blade. “cute, i’m assuming you’re not wearin’ a bra either,” and you felt yourself throb the moment he pauses his hands, staring at your perked tits. “phew,” he whistles, giving your pretty physique a nice three second stare. “nice rack.”

“you . . aren’t gonna—”

“—what, kill ya? oh, no doll. now that wouldn’t be fun,” he purrs, finishing your sentence.

it was almost embarrassing at how your body responded to him. you didn’t just wanted more, you craved it. staring right back at you were those same dark holes of a mask that you desperately wanted to see his true identity.

just who was he?

but judging from his voice though, it was a raspy low. . somewhat sounding of a way of smoker would speak. the voice sounded a bit older and of course—he had the body shape of a fucking tank.

as he lets off a low sigh, he shrugs his broad shoulders. “you’re too pretty for that. besides, i’m hard ‘n that little moan you did nearly ruined me if i’m bein’ honest.”

as a small impish smile forms against your glossed pursed lips, your nerves lessen. you stare up at the man before exhaling slight sudden relief. so you were gonna be in the sequel, score.

“so . . . what, is this the part where i’m supposed to beg for my life, mr. ghostface?” you had nothing really to lose, so why not play around with him for a bit – reverse psychology.

“actually,” he clicks his tongue, swiping a thumb down the keen edge of his dagger. it’s an eerie dead pause that whistles in the air once his gloved hands brush against your skin before he continues.

“this would be the part where you scream,” and as he presses his mask all the way against face, he’s so close that you get a glimpse of his scarred lips that poke underneath the cover. “but fuck it. since y’er not scared yet, guess i’ll have ‘ta get that heart racin’ one way or another.”

and toji—who was apparently his name, does this in no other way but propping himself right between your legs.

long story short, everything escalated quickly. so quickly that one minute you were on the floor quote and quote “fearing” for your life and the next . . ? you find yourself being tossed on your velveteen cushioned sofa, voluntarily spreading your legs out for him like some slut out of a cheesy predictable horror movie.

if you were being completely honest, the real killer was his tongue . . because for the life of you, you just couldn’t get over how sloppy he moved it in different directions.

toji kept his mask on the entire time, but it’s pulled up just a tad bit to where you’re only getting a tiny glimpse of the lower part of his face. the fabric just barely shields the bottom part of his nose as his scarred thin lips press their way against your sopping folds.

“fuuuck,” you’d whimper, preferring this over death any day.

right away, you spot the scar that slashes straight down the right side of his lip and it’s a small but attractive feature. every few seconds, he’d purposely smear that part of his mouth against your cunt, earning out a candied ‘ooh!’ from you. within seconds, your numbed thighs were already starting to stick together – like glue.

letting off a sharp drawn out gasp, you glance near your nightstand and the alarm that sits above it. the time was a quarter past two . . and well, some would ask how you’d even get yourself in this situation.

truth is, you didn’t really know either but you damn sure weren’t exactly complaining either. toji found you a bit strange though.

usually people would run from him but you . . you moaned right as you were about to meet your maker. weird, and he’s heard countless screams but never once like yours. that’s kind of because yours wasn’t even a scream, it was a literal moan.

and he wanted to hear more and more of it.

it intrigued him – you intrigued him, and he sort of wants to make you scream in a whole other way though, especially since he’s got you right where he wants. sprawled all out, legs fucking spread . .

“do you . . have to keep this stupid thing on?” you breathlessly grouse, a cute pout curling against your lips as your hands grab the top of his head.

it sort of irked you how he kept his ghostface mask on the entire duration he’s positioned between your legs. with a tight grip, you yank him forward and he groans against your cunt. toji peppers sloppy kisses against your pudgy folds before staring up at you, a faint smirk twisting against his own lips. huffing out an annoyed exhale, you grump. “ ‘s not like ‘m gonna turn you in or anything. i never even found ghostface scary anywa—”

toji snickers. “yeahhh, right,” and you shiver, watching with low hooded eyes as he gathers a glossy string of spit in his mouth.

as your legs quivered from the single grip of one of his hands, he spits right on your teary pussy, watching the lustrous trail of slime drag down his chin. “i’ll think about it,” and he laps his own mess right up, dexterously creating nasty slosh sounds with his exaggerated smacking lips.

with a teasing pat of his gloved hand, he smears the slick puddle that rests on your entrance before humming. “cute, seems like y’er pussy’s tryna seduce me though.”

you let off a whimper, not knowing how long your legs could remain open as he’s toying with your clit. fat clothed fingers drag their way down your slobbering cunt, drawing various circles and shapes around your knobbling nub as a breath snatches from your full lungs. “s- shit, spit on it ‘s more,” you’d weep, feeling your own lips part into a curling ‘o’ shape as you’re in carnal awe.

“now, doll,” he’d whisper against your folds, slurping you clean and savoring the taste of your bittersweet fervor on his tongue.

toji brings two thick fingers toward the outer part of your clit before it slowly starts to disappear inside. it’s like a magic trick — you watch them slowly disintegrate inside of your sopping cunt and you whimper, feeling them curl their ways inside.

as he’s preparing to pump both digits inside, your tummy caves in and you let off a sweet moan the second his long digits start to scissor inside of you. “since ‘m gonna spare ya, i think it’s time we set some ground rules,” and as his hot breath continues to fan against your twitching sex—your grip tightens near the top part of his mask. “don’t tell me how to eat, yeah?”

a timid whimper was your response and you watch how his lips carve into a haughty smile. with a second thought, toji spanks your cunt and he hums, hearing the wet back-talking chatter of squelches leave from your pussy.

as you’re twitching and pulsating from the tender stimulation—you feel him starting to lay his long tongue flat. starting from bottom to top, he eats out your cunt as if it was served to him on a silver fucking platter. “afraid ‘m gonna need an answer, little girl.”

“y- yes,” you let off a soft shrilling gasp, feeling his callused fingertips prod deep inside your gummy clenching walls. toji’s gloved digits felt scorchingly warm inside you, and with just a swift motion, he twirls them ‘round and ‘round, barreling each long inch inside of your pretty pussy.

god, if his fingers were this long, you only imagined imagined what his dick would feel like. the feeling alone made your stomach flutter uncontrollably as your teeth sink into the skin coating your bottom lip.

this was bad, this was really really bad . .

you were probably breaking every cliche horror movie rule in the book . . or in this case, the script. you were supposed to run, not open your legs. but, what’s the saying? you only live once, and that’s if you survive his tongue.

toji was ruthless.

his head moves back and forth as he munched on your pussy, playfully nipping the pearly edges teeth against your clit. each time he does that, you’re sensitive and you whine out a sweet battle cry, rutting your hips further into his greedy slick mouth. your legs nearly suffocated him but he didn’t care, and each long stripe that he creates with his sticky tongue earns out a bundle of whiny whimpers from you.

you had no panties on, and he was basically eating you out with nothing but a skirt that’s pulled up toward your waist—clinging against your jerking, active hips. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum,” you abruptly gasp, feeling your legs already starting to weaken.

by this point, he’s not even eating your pussy anymore, he’s damn near making out with it. toji’s making out with your pussy – with tongue, and lots lots of it.

he’s creating darting motions with the pointed tip of his tongue, barely batting a single lash of an eye that his chin’s starting to glimmer with sheeny slick. your sheeny slick. as you occasionally look down, you only see that same part of his face that’s shown—but it makes you throb regardless, just imagining just what he really looked like.

you knew he was tall—that much was apparent, a strong burly build and a cocky persona to match.

“yeah? give it to me then,” he interrupts your thoughts as a wolffish grin spreads across his lips like butter.

toji’s thick fingers resume to mercilessly plummet in and out of you and he feels his jaw locking. your taste—he couldn’t get enough of it, and pretty soon he’s the epitome of pussy drunk.

you tasted so sweet, and you let off a whimper once he pulls up his mask just a little bit further. “heh,” he huffs out, and he stops it just at the hem of his button shaped nose. as that same wry smirk compresses against his lips, you spot his dimples stretching out near the corners. leaning all the way in, toji gives your cunt a three second sniff before cupping his lips over your pulsating cunt. “mmph—actually, hold on doll.”

as you’re panting heavily, a look of confusion marinates against your features once you watch him prepare to take off his mask. with a bubbly ‘pop’, toji slowly slides his fingers out of you before glancing at your impatient face.

“ah ah, close ‘em,” he clicks his tongue, watching your pretty clit twitch at his demand.

you pout, feeling a brief sting as you’re being delayed of your long awaited release. with a cute sigh, you place a hand over eyes, your vision turning completely dark. “good girl . . now,” he huffs lowly, and you hear a bit of shuffling. toji sits you up and you feel something place underneath your legs. his voice was close, and it sounds like he’s near the side of you. “cum on my mask, pretty girl. can ya do that for me?”

“uh, okay,” you shakily reply, feeling him prop up your hips to sit right up against the ghostly mouth part. it’s eerily carved into a long hanging oval shape and you moan—feeling how warm it was from the front. it makes you pulse, knowing that his mouth was just behind that exact spot a few seconds ago.

even though your eyes were still covered with your own hand, you feel a daunting chill run down your spine yet again, sensing his cold haunting presence.

whoever he was, he was watching you right now, get off . . on his mask.

you let off a quiet moan as your hips started to rut against the propped plastic. you were drenched, and a bit of slick sticks down against your thighs.

toji feels his dick strain in his ripped jeans as he openly stares like a stalker — pretty, you looked so pretty like this. grinding your sweet cunt against the mask he wears on a daily. now that he thinks about it, it’d be a pretty good souvenir.

“touch yourself too,” he’d rasp, kneeling down closer to you. toji gets behind you, and you whimper once you feel the frigid edge of his knife slowly drag down your skin. he starts a trail, and he’s safe surprisingly—making sure to not nip your skin, but it’s close enough to where you feel the coldness of the steel.

as your needy whines pitch louder, you find yourself now guiding a hand near your bouncing breasts. a bit of the ripped fabric of your blouse runs against your fingertips and toji feels himself getting more hard just watching you. “yeah, baby. that’s it. get my fuckin’ mask wet so i can taste it after.”

“tojiiii, ‘m cumming—fuck,” and as he’s got one of his own hands grabbing onto your left tit, you end up finishing.

you’re cutely hysterical, creaming all on the mouth part of his mask as shame swells in your chest. “ngh, fuck fuck.” you babble, your thighs submitting defeat as he pulls you back against his chest. it felt hard, and you couldn’t help but imagine how built he probably was.

toji presses a cold kiss near the left side of your neck. his frigid lips makes you whimper as your head tilts to the left.

his touch . . you only wanted more, and he could tell from the way that the hand that was at first cupping your breast now starts to reach toward his wrist. “atta girl,” he whispers, and right as you were about to remove your other hand off your eyes, he places his own back over your face. “nice try, sweetheart. gotta be patient.”

you continue to pout, and toji slides the drenched front part of his mask from underneath your legs and brings it up to his lips. “mhm, would ya look at that,” and as you’re panting on his chest, still frantic from your recent orgasm, you hear him cleaning it off with his tongue.

he trails his tongue to where your cunt sat against the mouth part, lapping it up and relishes in your sweet taste entirely. “fuck, sweetest thing i’ve had in a while.”

you dig your nails into his thigh as you’re trying to get over your high, speaking in a needy voice.

“t.. toji,” and he finds it cute how you’re speaking through gritted teeth. he could tell you were annoyed with him, how you weren’t fond of his teasing at all.

“hm, what is it?” he replies, giving his mask a satisfied glance once he finishes. it shines in the dim light—and he licks his lips as the right side of his mouth twitches into a devious simper.

“can . . can i have a kiss?” and the words came out of your mouth oh so sweetly.

you don’t know what came over you, but your body was just fed up. something was screaming at you, hollering at you to get a taste. you throbbed, secretly yearning to feel his lips crash on yours. the entire time he was buried between your legs, it was all you thought about, constantly.

toji hums, tilting his head as he faces you. “a kiss, huh?” and he’s still got a hand covering your eyes.

he ponders about it for a while before a low guffaw leaves from his thin lips. “aw, you want a taste of yourself too, don’t you dirty girl?” and once you shamelessly nod in response, toji’s shoulders drop. “fine, you’ll get that kiss. c’mere,”

and you could feel him inching closer and closer closer. toji’s cologne was loud—it’s a manly musk of what you think was rosemary and cedarwood.

it practically blinds the insides of your flared nostrils the more he closes the awkward distance between you both. your cunt’s pulses start to quicken before he’s merely just inches away from your lips now. “stupid, stupid girl,” he pulls your bottom lip down with a gloved finger, and that’s when he stares at your pretty plump lips before whispering. “beg me.”

“i’m not gonna—”

“no beg, no fuckin’ kiss,” he cuts you off, and you grumble. it was almost embarrassing at how your pussy gave away your true dirty feelings. you continued to twitch, and you let off a defeated sigh once his smears a thumb over your wet lips.

“please . . please, kiss me,” and as you speak, he continues to softly caress the curvature of your mouth. you could hear him breathing from behind the mask. it was short raspy breaths and what would usually frighten most people, turned you on.

toji runs a hand through his jet black tresses before a cunning smirk pierces the corners of his lips. “that’s more like it,” and his lips were almost touching yours – almost, a mere breath away.

you could never get over how deep his voice. it’s as if he didn’t need a voice changer like the ones they’d always use in the movies. his was naturally just as gritty, just as husky.

“obedient . . good,” and as he playfully licks near your bottom lip, toji grunts, “mouth, open.”

you moan, feeling his hand reach between your legs, squeezing your pussy. once your lips part and your mouth opens, toji spits right inside, staring as your cute tongue tries to catch it all.

it’s quick, and before you knew it – his lips hurriedly crash onto yours. within seconds, teeth starts to clash amongst each other and you helplessly whine in his mouth. this, this was what you wanted. a kiss.

one gloved hand of his remains covered over your eyes whilst another snakes its way between your legs. toji’s rubbing against your cunt, feeling your cute hips grind against him as you try to squirm and writhe. you were still so tender. his mouth was cold, and you can’t help but moan at the literal taste of yourself washing back against your tongue.

you feel his scar that slants down the right side of his lip rub off against your lips and his lips curve into a sly smirk. “nasty girl,” he murmurs between hot kisses, and you gasp once he starts to maneuver quicker circles against your cunt.

you were soaked already, still sensitive from your recent release but that’s when he lies you back down. as you fall down on the sofa, toji deepens the kiss for a few extra seconds, abruptly pulling away. a pretty decorated string of glittery saliva tugs away from both lips and he wipes your wet mouth, snickering. “such a damn baby. got me spoilin’ you already, tch.”

he’s still got your eyes covered, but that’s right when you reach out . . not expecting your hand to grab near his hardened bulge that hides underneath his cloak.

toji pauses, staring at you before you squeeze it and he groans. “what now, doll? still not satisfied?”

“fuck me,” you murmur, but it’s more of a pathetic whine.

you didn’t care anymore—you were at your wits ends. the erotic two words and six letters easily flowed past your lips as if you were dying to say it for the longest, and in this case – you were.

toji’s amused more than anything, and he’s well aware that you’re far not like the others.

this wasn’t just a usual psycho killer versus helpless victim, this was something more . .

“strong words, baby,” he purrs against your ear, licking a stripe down your neck. toji holds your weak rickety hips in place, still shielding your eyes with his palm before showering a good part of your collarbone with a plethora of sloppy kisses.

uh oh, he was starting to get attached. already, he could feel it . . and he knew you were gonna be nothing but a fucking problem in the long run.

a problem he didn’t mind tampering with for a bit.

“say it again,” he whispers, and this time he picks up his knife once more.

it gradually tears down your blouse all the way from the center, openly staring your tits spring open. “tell me what you want me ‘ta do to you again,” and as his husky voice lowers a single octave within each coarse sentence, you squeeze your thighs together.

toji focuses the edge of his knife against your skin and you shiver, feeling it softly brush against the bristles of hair that coat your skin.

the thing that pissed him off though was that you weren’t even scared of him . . no, far from it actually.

you were aroused—hell, maybe even just as crazy as him.

“fuck me, toji.” you repeat, taking it upon yourself to grab the handle of the knife. he raises a brow as he watches, and you bring the wooden end up to your lips, deciding to be a tease and lowering your mouth down it. toji huffs, growing annoyed at your audacity — but fuck, he’s into it.

and all he’s imagining at the moment is your pretty lips that’s wrapped around the handle of his knife being wrapped around his dick instead. you start sucking on it until it taps near the scaled back of your throat, reaching past the roof of your mouth and he scoffs.

brat.

“got some nerve, suckin’ on my damn knife, girl,” and he snatches it away, softly turning you around, pushing you near the right arm of the couch.

you gasp, feeling him swat a hand against your bare ass before he grabs your hips. his movements were so fast that you could barely keep up let alone react. “fine, i’ll fuck you,” and he’s not covering your eyes anymore.

right as you were about to turn around, toji grabs the back of your neck with a gloved hand, tittering. “don’t try me. eyes forward, head down,” and you moan, feeling him pick your hips up—making your rear grind and jostle against his hardening bulge. “ass. fuckin’. up.”

you kiss your teeth, feeling another breath of air leave out your lungs before you whine. toji’s rough, and he’s got a firm grip against your waist before springing out his dick. he grunts, rolling his eyes as he watches you impatiently wriggle your ass, hoping he’d hurry up already.

“can’t wait, can ya baby?” he utters, stroking his length.

as a thumb of his nearly grazes his throbbing vein, his eyes gaze toward your sopping creamy pussy. all wet, and just for him. the antagonizing wait for him to just fuck you like you wanted became almost unbearable, and the second you feel his tip side-swipe against the entrance of your cunt it was over.

a swollen fat tip smacks vigorously against your pussy, and one smack turns into two, then three, then four. .

as he’s slapping his mushroomy cockhead against your drooling pool of heat, you hear a low chortle from behind you. “god, she’s a fuckin’ wet one, ain’t she?” and you whine, hearing yourself squelch each time his angry tip whacks against your poor soddened flaps. ‘whack’ after ‘whack’ and the sounds of his dick slapping against your pussy slowly started to clank through one ear of yours and out the other.

but doing so—the pulsing sensation between your legs only increased, and by now, you were starting to chew on your tongue.

anticipation was eating away at you as you let off a moan, cutely grumbling. “just fuck me already.”

“how ‘bout i leave you ‘n let you fuck yourself,” he snaps back, matching your sass.

oh. you weren’t really used to someone matching your energy—especially a masked man walking around in a ghostface mask but well, that’s besides the point.

toji’s still got a gloved hand wrapped around his hefty length that’s covered in lighting-like twitching veins before he groans.

he’s so fucking hard . . and the more he stares at your pretty sobbing cunt, the more he understands why. “don’t think you’d like that now though, would ya?”

“n- no,” you reply truthfully, letting off a pornographic moan once he starts to align himself between your gaping slit.

it’s fat, and you could tell from the feeling of the size of his monstrous tip alone. you sort of wished you were facing him but alas, you’d just have to use your imagination for now. “fuckk,” you breathe, already starting to feel your eyes rolling back.

the stretch, god the stretch. you thought his fingers was something but it’s nothing compared to his cock. your toes were already curling up, and oh, you knew you were fucked.

toji’s got a few curly black specks of hair that resides near his base—and as he’s slowly easing himself inside, he feels you tightening. right as you do, you feel a vein that runs down his shaft prod.

he feels it – you feel it, and you both hiss in unison. “goddamn,” he grumbles, staring as your own sappy slick starts to glue against his sculptured pelvis. tiny glimmering strands stick and tape against his skin all because of you and it’s just messy. toji smacks your ass one more time before lightly pushing your head into the satiny covered pillow. “move, move those hips or ‘m gonna pull out, doll.”

“mmph—s- so fuckin’ big,” you babble, bringing a bawled up fist into your mouth.

your sweet moans become muffled as his dick’s gradually expanding through your gummy walls, leaving his very mark with his tip. he’s rummaging through every part of you and you gasp—feeling your cunt welcome him wholly, your squelches becoming louder and louder. your tummy starts to churn the more he sinks in deeper and your lips form into a cute gasping shape. “oh, fuck. ‘s gonna break me, toji.”

“pft. don’t be dramatic doll,” he purrs, swatting another smack against your ass. the shape brief sting that only lasts for about five seconds makes you moan once your hips finally starts to move.

it takes a few lengthy seconds before with a wet ‘pop’, he bottoms out. so . . much . . girth, your empty brain was spinning cogwheels, trying to process just how could a guy be this fucking big.

your reaction to how well he stretched you of course, fueled a good portion of his highly cocky ego.

toji’s got a hooked curve too—and you feel it all. toji teasingly gives you one thrust, just one single thrust and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. it was that much power of his hips—you felt the wind get snatched out of you and the prettiest moan left from your lips.

biting down on your lip again, you’re feeling all of his hefty length massage the insides of your cunt. milliseconds shortly past before you then start to feel yourself shamelessly drooling on your split knuckles.

“fuck, fuck,” you chant in a quiet mumble, seeing nothing but inky black as your eyelids continue to flutter open and close.

toji had the kind of size that left butterflies in your tummy – a school of them to be specific, and you felt every single inch of him plummet its way inside. as you’re still babbling incoherent whimpers and whines at how snug he’s buried in you—toji starts to move faster with you.

with two hands, he holds you in place. darkened brows of his crease into a furrow as he sighs. “mhm, atta girl. see, look at you,” and you could hear the playful sarcasm seeping off his tone.

“takin’ it like a fuckin’—champ,” and right at that last word of his sentence, he starts to roll his hips just a bit quicker.

toji tries to match your berserk movement with his own hips, but he ends up beating your pace entirely. you’re trying to keep up but failing miserably and it’s just so cute. . but your face probably wasn’t as cute.

you probably looked a sight—mouth all open, jaw dropped and dangling, eyes bulging, pathetically drooling for more and more and . . you get it.

“hng, harder. fuck me,” you whine, the sound of skin and hips clashing repeating in your ears.

your sloppy cunt’s soaking him from the back, and his backshots were just brutal – killer.

each thrust serves its purpose every time and you’re left speechless. after a while, both bodies start to move rhythmically as your jaw’s just dangling.

damn, randy meeks would be shaking his head, tossing ‘n turning in his grave if he saw this.

under no circumstances . . never ever fuck the masked killer, and yet here you were.

but, who gives a fuck about movies?

you didn’t—not really, and when he had a mean stroke game like toji, you weren’t the type to complain. he’s hitting you deep with his fat splitting tip, filthily cruising his hips into you at such precise vigor until you’re just spouting a whole load of nothin’.

“ugh, right there. right fuckin’ there, fuck,” and you let off a cooing mewl once toji’s hand wraps around your throat.

with a few fingers, he gives you a safe squeeze that earns out a faint gasping croak from the back of your throat. toji uses your neck as leverage as he’s pounding into you rawly, ravaging your insides and all. your pearled clit’s repeatedly getting hit with his plump crown and you gasp, squeaking loudly once he taps against your precious g-spot.

all of a sudden, your brain’s fuzzy and you’re seeing stars—somewhat like a cartoon character. you were silly, literally being fucked silly. “fuuuck!” and it catches you by surprise.

once he reaches past that cute ‘lil spongey barrier of yours, it was over.

you were pronounced dead—dead from cock, and pretty soon you were starting to feel yourself go into a lewd white fantasm for a few seconds.

you’re dumb, dumbly fucked stupid from his sloppy enticing hits that you could barely speak coherently. it felt good, it felt so fucking good, and as you feel his heavy base slam back into you again and again, you start to moan. “yeah, i know, i know, baby,” toji huffs, and your cunt’s just addictive. your walls cling onto him tightly, hugging around him like a vice—threatening to never let go.

your sheer sweltering warmth from the inside makes his head slightly toss back to a certain degree and it’s sexy. if only you were to see it. “god, clampin’ down on me so good. work those hips baby, yeah. give me a fuckin’ show.”

as you try to match his crazed tempo. . eventually, you start to feel a tender feeling arise in the lower part of your tummy.

its familiar, and you can recognize that hot brewing sensation from anywhere. you’re close, and as wanton shrilling whines continue to drag away from your lips you start to spasm.

“fuuucck, toji something’s coming,” you whimper, dragging out your words, and you don’t think it was a regular orgasm.

it was far different . . the feeling was equivalent to someone harshly pressing a palm down on your stomach. your eyes squeeze shut before you repeat yourself through quivering glossed lips. “toji, ‘m gonna—”

“yeah yeah, i heard ya,” he maunders, and he’s feeling himself reaching his inevitable peak too.

it doesn’t take long before he feels the undersides of his meaty thighs starting to burn with hot intensity. toji’s fat cock continues to drag in and out of your goopy walls, hearing you squelch over and over him and he snarls. “fuck,” and he punctuates his thrusts, watching as your ass swiftly slams back into him at such speed. his abs that hide underneath his dark cloak tensing. “same time, baby. finish with me.”

“o.. okay,” you moan, and he’s still got a gloved hand wrapped around your throat the entire time. a thumb of his caresses down your nape, humming at your pretty twitching body underneath him.

it’s a sight he’d love to get used to.

as you’re both chasing your delirious orgasmic peaks—toji presents to your cunt one final thrust that sends your entire body into a crazed stupefied state. your plush cheek near the left side of your face smushes against the pillow before you whimper, starting to feel yourself spritz on him.

your eyes widen as it happens. a spraying geyser shoots out you as you let go—and oh, you’re soaking toji right with you, glossing his entire cock from the base down.

“oh my god, fuck, fuh—fuck!” you sob in craving pleasure, flapping eyelids sticking together from the pretty glassy tears that start to form. so good, it’s a feeling you’ve never felt before and you felt like a weight was gradually being lifted off your shoulders . . including your sweet pussy.

toji finishes seconds later and he groans, stilling his hips against you. creamy velvety bundles of ribbons pours into your cunt and he lets off a low growl. “fuck,” and his hand smacks against your ass again for the nth time.

you felt warm as he’s continuing to spill such a mass amount whilst at the exact same time, you’re drenching his cock – putting faucets to shame at just how damn wet you were.

toji’s cock eventually turns flaccid and soft as his tip and peeled frenulum spits a good amount, watching your body limp underneath him.

with a sly exhausted grin stretching across his scarred lips, he traces his fingers down your spine. “my, oh my,” and you whine, finally finishing. toji stares at your body, feeling you weakly writhe your hips before finally submitting defeat. “did you jus . . fuckin’ squirt on me, pretty girl?”

you did,

and you end up dampening up the cushions of your burgundy colored sofa in the process. you felt like you were floating, panting and heaving ridiculously like a dog. toji brings his hips to a sudden stop, gazing at the ivory wads and ropes of cum that fill inside of your cunt.

slowly but surely . . it starts to race down the crevices of your thighs, splotches of white splattering against your skin. in a dirty, filthy way, it’s pretty – in toji’s mind at least.

he luxuriated at the sight of you all fucked out and speechless. not a word came from your lips except for the occasional whimpers and moaning sobs that would tear out your throat. you were still arched over, moaning once you feel him slowly starting to pull out. “ain’t that a pretty sight,” he rasps, hearing his cock sweetly ‘pop’ out of your creamy fat folds.

you’re oozing out with so so much of his gooey lush cum and it makes him licks his lips. you looked delicious, and he couldn’t help but swipe a finger down your runny cunt, bringing his eager digit up to his lips just to get a taste for himself.

toji was a nasty man—but with the way you tasted, he was even nastier.

as he licks his gloved finger that contains the concoction mess of both sappy liquids, he hums in amusement. “mhm,” and as his leafy viridescent colored eyes linger down towards your cunt, he smears his leaky tip over your pussy.

toji grunts, making sure to paint the entirety of your entrance with his pasty cum that sobs down parched folds. “good girl, good . . fuckin’ girl.”

toji stays like that for a while, and it’s only after an abrupt pausing moment that he makes you turn around to face him. he makes you lie flat on your back, and there, you’re met with the eyes of a handsome smug man. his features were as sly as his attitude, and his ruffled black hair was naturally messy.

“surprise,” he mutters, and you intake a breath once he gets on top of you again. toji doesn’t have the mask on anymore—but he still has on the costume part, a ghoulish black cloak that had slits near the edges of his sleeves. “scared yet?”

“not . . really,” you sheepishly say, slowly trailing your eyes down his body.

squinting just enough, you saw right through the outline of his muscular frame. he was fucking ripped, and you felt yourself throb the moment you started to imagine him wrapping those big burly arms around your—

“figures,” he scoffs, though his tone’s a bit more playful than annoyed. toji runs a big veiny hand through his hair before bringing his watch up to his face. wrinkling his nose, he hums. “gotta run, doll. ‘s been fun.”

a pout pulls against both sides of your lips as he says he has to depart. sure, you didn’t exactly expect him to stay . . well who were you kidding, you sort of did. but you knew he had to go.

your thighs stick together as he remains on top of you, watching him pull his mask back on. with a slightly worn out voice, you murmur. “you can’t stay?”

“no, i can’t stay,” he snickers, knowing you wanted more. toji’s head friskily tilts as you stare at him with a cute doe-eyed expression, still pouting and he rolls his eyes behind the mask. “god, fine. greedy little thing aren’t ‘cha?”

and you hear a bit of shuffling, watching him fish a hand in his pocket as his jeans were now pulled up and made presentable again. toji grabs a sharpie out of his pocket before pulling your waist closer toward him. “tsk. stay still,” and you’re curious to what he was about to do, not daring to move an inch.

you’re all bare and exposed, and you let off a soft exhale once he starts to write something right below your belly button. just a few more inches down and he’d be writing on your pussy.

it lasts for about seven seconds before he stops, adding a heart near the end of what was a ten digit phone number.

“alright, princess. here’s my number. whenever you’re feelin’ horny, just give me a call, yeah?”

and before you could even reply, he leans up to you—pulling up his ghostface mask over his lips, giving you a long teasing kiss. you moan into his mouth, smelling a scent of his cologne before he leisurely pulls away. toji whispers against your lips for one final time before pressing a thumb toward your throat.

“i’ll always come back.”

[cathnospam]

Bakugo makes you laugh, A LOT and it drives him insane.

“It was not that damn funny.”

You try to conceal the snickers from your mouth, but fail horribly. All he did was mutter something about Mineta being a punk ass and it had you giggly.

At first he used to take offense by it, maybe you were laughing AT him and not what he says, almost like mocking him, that wasn’t until Deku quickly explained in passing that you laugh very easily.

But you don’t laugh this damn much with anybody else but him. At this point he thought you had a similar quirk to Ms. Joke, and he nicknamed you Giggles.

You both were studying in the library like you both usually do during exam week, and Bakugo noticed you haven’t been Miss. Cackle the past few days. Not even a smile actually and you’d think it would have been some relief for him from hearing your laugh obxonious laugh, but he’s actually more annoyed.

He looks up from his book and glances at you across the table, you’re typing away, with a less that neutral look on your face. Lips somehow forming a pout and eyes looking droopy. He scoffs going back to his work, but it was an itch he needed to scratch with you..?

“Who pissed in your breakfast.”

“What?”

“You been looking like a sad lost puppy all week what the hell is your problem.”

The corner of your lips cracked upwards a bit, almost as if you were fighting to smile, but instead you shrug, “‘Nothing you needa worry about. Why.”

It was almost concerning how calm you sounded. Your voice was more tame that you didn’t even sound recognizable which make Bakugo crease his brows, “You suck at lying. Is it, because of that shitty boyfriend you have pissed you off.”

He was referring to Shindo, he wasn’t your boyfriend, but he was a guy you got close with after meeting him a few years ago, but Bakugo was half right he was part of the problem.

You had a small crush on Shindo , but overheard him tell his classmates how he isn’t into you like that mainly because you’re not his type and how much he can’t stand how loud you talk/laugh sometimes.

It hurt hearing it, when he found out you heard he tried apologizing but you didn’t wanna hear it, so since then you’ve turn self conscious about speaking and laughing too loudly for the past week to avoid anymore issues that you have caused with people.

After slowly explaining to the Blonde he rolled his eyes, “You’re ganna let the walking vibrator dictate your life too? So stupid.”

“You hate my laugh too. What does it matter.”

Bakugo stayed silent for a moment while you went back to work. Thinking how could he word what he wants to say without sounding like an idiot, “I never said that, besides you never stopped even when I did tell you your laugh was annoying. If you want to cackle like a hyena who gives a fuck—“

You break into a snicker but end up covering it with your hand. He cracks a proud smirk, he almost forgot what you looked like with a smile, “I don’t wanna be loud. Just can’t help it.”

“We know.”

You giggle at his deadpanned voice, it really wasn’t your fault, you’re just so easy to please and Bakugo knows that, “Giggly ass, and I seen you almost laugh when Denki tripped at the lecture today.”

“Becauuseee he is always so dramatic when he falls.” You whined into a chuckle, sharing a small one with him.

It was a start of many more shared laughs after studying, Katsuki even tried to be just a LITTLE bit more funnier than usual when walking back to the dorms. When you finally cracked a real loud one out he felt himself grinning at you.

“Katsuki Alexander Bakugo are you smiling?”

“Don’t you EVER say my full name like that again got dammit I will blow you the hell UP!”

You almost fall to your knees of how funny his reaction was to you, it felt so good to smile again. You missed it, and so did everybody else the next day apparently.

Mina and some others thought you were depressed, Deku assumed you were sick, Denki outwardly blamed Bakugo which got him smacked, and IIda actually missed your loud noises as well.

Your classmates enjoyed your presence more than you thought they did.

But Bakugo missed it the most.

Your laughs drives him insane, because he loves to hear them.