#and that i now possibly have very soggy

[uesrnmane]

*smells bergamot*

oh noh

[regressionschool]

Ready for a change

You sit on the porch, enjoying the late afternoon sun when you see her waddling down the street. Lilly, in her adorable pink dress, her knee-high socks, and that unmistakable crinkle with every step. The sight makes your heart swell with both affection and amusement.

As she gets closer, you notice the slight sag in her pampers, clearly soaked from her day at regression school. Her eyes light up when she spots you, and she breaks into a joyous, waddling run, her arms outstretched.

You set your coffee down just in time to catch her as she leaps into your arms. The impact is soft and squishy, and you can feel the warmth of her soaked diaper pressing against you. She buries her face in your neck, giggling with pure delight.

"Hello, princess," you murmur, stroking her hair gently. "Did you have fun at adult preschool today?“ She nods enthusiastically, still clinging to you. "Yes, Daddy! So much fun!”

Lilly excitedly lets go of you, her eyes sparkling with pride. "Daddy, guess what? My teacher said I'm ready for a change!"

You look at her inquisitively, curious about what she means. "A change, sweetheart? What kind of change?"

Lilly beams, bouncing a little in your arms. "A big change, Daddy! I'm ready to change my regression level from preschooler to toddler!"

You raise an eyebrow, both amused and intrigued. "Oh? And what makes you ready for that?"

With a giggle, Lilly puffs out her chest proudly. "I didn't even try to use the potty all week! Not even once! Miss Amanda said that means I'm a perfect toddler now."

You chuckle, ruffling her hair affectionately. "Well, that is quite an accomplishment, isn't it? I'm very proud of you, princess."

Lilly nods eagerly, her excitement bubbling over. "It means I get to wear the really thick diapers all the time now, just like a real toddler!"

"Is that so?" you ask, lifting her gently to give her soggy bottom a playful pat. "Well then, I suppose we should get you changed into one of those thick diapers right away, huh?"

Lilly's eyes light up even more, if that were possible. "Yes, Daddy! I want to feel extra snug and safe!"

[kcrossvine-art]

Hi fellow adventurers!! Welcome to chapter 2! We're going to be attempting a nice lil fruit-focused quiche/frittata/pie thing. And yes, tomatoes are fruits.

Who says you cant eat totally normal things in a dungeon with definitely no monsters in them? 

You know what that means; Man-Eating Plant Tart!

(As always you can find the cooking instructions and full ingredient list under the break-)

MY NAMES CROSS NOW LETS COOK LIKE ANIMALS

SO, “what goes in to a Man-Eating Plant Tart?” YOU MIGHT ASKThe way its prepared in the show is akin to a frittata, but the crust is borrowed from quiche world.

Eggs

Whole milk

Bell peppers

Persimmons

Cherry tomatoes

Pitted green olives

Thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

In the show they use leftover hotpot stock, slime, and mashed up fruit as the batter ingredients. Fruit mush is easy to work with but I couldn't find any stand-in for slime that would cook correctly into what they made in the show, and the hotpot stock is just not thick enough to carry the base. It is too many watery ingredients at once. Needing a thickening agent, both gelatin and agar agar were tried. It was edible but the texture was… gelatinous. Regular egg and milk will serve for our purposes.

The next complication was the crust- so in the show its made with the skins of fruit, straightforward yeah? Well. You see it also has to be 1. Thick enough to bake without burning 2. Harden through cooking to be sliced and held and 3. Inedible. Lotus leaves? Plantain leaves? Really thin gourds? I couldnt find any historical basis for a savory food cooked in this method, or similar method, with an intentionally inedible crust. I could find a few dishes which used leaves as their crust, but none that hardened during cooking and even less that used fruit skin. I chose sweet potato skin for its visual match and texture. It is edible, and it is not a fruit.

I hope youll forgive me for these 2 major deviations as i wanted to keep it looking how it does in the show while also ensuring it tastes good.

AND, “what does a Man-Eating Plant Tart taste like?” YOU MIGHT ASKFluffy, airy, savory, salty.

The density of the eggs is offset by the crisp fruits

And the saltiness doesnt overpower the remnant fruit-sweetness

(If you eat the crust) the sweet potato brings this nice muted, smokey, flavor

Spongecake-esque in consistency

Would pair well with cranberry or strawberry juice

Would also pair well with a mellow hot sauce?

. You can use heavy cream instead of milk for a creamier batter . Roast the fruit longer to remove more liquid if too wet (and vice versa if too dry) . Smoked paprika, pepper flakes, cumin, garlic powder, and onion powder would taste good in the mixture

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

"A mixture of mashed up and cut up Man-Eating Plant fruit, slime and scorpion soup is poured into a pan lined with the flattened peel of the fruit and cooked before garnishing with some more fruit. Described as salty by the group."

From start to finish this recipe took 3-ish hours? Shredding the potatoes took the longest, so if you get them bagged itd be cut down. A very filling recipe and a good way to sneak veggies/fruits in if you have a hard time getting enough of those essential nutrients. The best advice i can give is to add salt/seasonings at every stage of the process, to build up layers. It makes a difference flavor-wise (even if its just salt). I advise against reheating if possible. The filling will make the crust soggy over time.

If you want to be closer to the cooking of the show, you could double the fruit amounts and mash them together while halving the amount of egg and milk. I hadnt tried due to budget reasons, but it should work with some finangling. I'll pass the final verdict off to you guys with how todays recipe turned out <333

What would you rate this recipe out of 10? (with 1 being food that makes one physically sick and 10 being food that gives one a lust for life again.) Did you love it, did you hate it? What're your thoughts on what I could do better, and what would you have done instead?

🐁 ORIGINAL RESIPPY TEXT BELOW 🐁

Ingredients:

3 Eggs

13oz whole milk

2 bell peppers

2 small persimmons

140oz cherry tomatoes

12oz pitted green olives

34oz thinly sliced OR shredded sweet potatos

Salt

Pepper

Method:

Heat oven to 420f and grease a 9-inch pie pan.

Thinly slice (or shred) your sweet potatoes and squeeze out any excess moisture. Coat in olive oil, salt and pepper.

Press sweet potato mixture evenly into and up the sides of the pie pan.

Blind bake for roughly 25 minutes or until lightly golden-brown. No worries if the edges get crisp.

Remove pie pan from oven and set aside.

Core and chop up your bell peppers and persimmons. Coat with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

Line out on a baking sheet, evenly spaced, and roast for roughly 20 minutes or until softened. (you can do this at the same time on a separate rack from the pie crust if you have room)

Remove the stems from your cherry tomatoes, and drain/dry your green olives if canned.

Bring a frying pan to medium heat with olive oil. Add the green olives and sautee until their skin texture starts dimpling. Add the cherry tomatoes and continue sauteeing for about 5 minutes or until lightly browned.

Once the bell peppers, persimmons, cherry tomatoes, and green olives are all done, set aside to cool until just above room temp.

Lower the oven temperature to 350f.

In a mixing bowl combine your eggs and milk, add salt to taste. If you want other seasonings nows a good time!

Once uniform in color and texture, add your cooked fruit. Stir until evenly distributed.

Pour mixture into the potato pie crust.

Bake for roughly 40 minutes. The filling should be mostly firm, but wiggle *slightly* when you shake the pan.

Remove from oven and let rest for roughly 15 minutes before serving.

[traveler-at-heart]

Cat's out of the (super) bag

Summary: Natasha doesn't like going on missions with you. Learning the truth might make her change her mind.

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Big thanks to @soggy-wet-cat for hearing this idea before I wrote it :)

--

Fury was going soft.

That was the only way to explain your presence on most of Natasha’s missions.

Rogers, she gets. He’s a super soldier and as capable as Natasha is, it doesn’t hurt to have an enhanced individual around.

But you.

Always slow, always too relaxed for Natasha’s liking. Insisting you could do more, but last week you weren’t even able to pick a lock.

Not to mention how much you avoid hand to hand combat. Natasha suspects it’s because your skill level is very low.

“She’d do better out of the field” Natasha complains for the tenth time. Fury smirks. “This isn’t funny. I’m risking my neck to protect her and she’s not even worried about getting better. I’m not doing missions with her anymore”

“Now, hold on” Fury protests. “That’s not for you to decide. And I thought you trusted me”

“It’s her I can’t trust”

“Too damn bad. You have a mission. No Rogers this time. And I better hear it went well, Romanoff”

Natasha rolls her eyes and leaves his office.

It will only go well if she convinces you to sit and wait at the jet.

—

“What did you do to piss off Romanoff?”

“Morning to you too, Nick” you smile, placing a cup of coffee in front of him. “I don’t know. It’s pretty obvious she doesn’t like me”

“I know that. Have you done anything to upset her?”

“I barely speak to her and when I do she doesn’t answer” you shrug your shoulders, going back to every interaction you’ve had with the redhead. Her intense glare comes back to haunt you. “Do you think she knows?”

“You tell me. Did you screw up?”

“I keep a low profile. Like you asked me to” you nod, knowing how important this is for him.

“Better stay that way. You’re both leaving for a mission tomorrow” the man hands you a folder and you skim it. “Keep your head down and don’t make her angrier”

“Is that even possible?”

“You don’t wanna know”

—

It’s a mess from the start. You try to stay away from Natasha, but every time your attempts go in the worst way possible. Like when she’s walking down the jet, and you move aside so she has space. Except you end up pushing a few buttons on the console and Natasha has to come back and straighten the ship.

“Stay still” she mutters, glaring. You nod and sit on your hands, more concerned with the woman’s temper than about the mission.

“Wait here” is all she says after landing the jet.

“Excuse me?”

“It’s a very simple mission” Natasha says, without looking at you, focused on adjusting her widow bites. “So, if you really want to help, stay out of my way”

“That’s not the plan. I’m supposed to watch the south entrance”

“They’ll never even noticed I inflitrated the building”

“You’re not my boss. Fury is. And if he wants me to stand outside and watch the south entrance, then that is exacly what I’ll do, Natasha”

The redhead finally turns back to look at you, surprised. This is the first time she’s seen you upset. You’re walking past her, not bothering to look her way… have you always been this tall? It always seems like you’re trying to look small.

“Hey” Natasha tries to make you turn, grabbing your arm. She’s surprised by how strong you are. “You better not screw up. Or I’ll make sure you’re on desk duty for the rest of your career, Y/L/N”

“Oh, now that’s funny. I’ve been here far longer than you” you lean forward, whispering. Natasha tries to understand what you mean, her eyes scanning your features for a sign. Aware of how close you are to her, you take a step back and jump out the door, ignoring the ladder.

Ridiculous, to think that you (you!) are an incompetent agent.

Maybe Fury was wrong for asking you to do this.

You’re kicking the ground, huffing every few minutes, still fuming at Natasha’s words. All this time, you thought she didn’t like you and though it sucked, you could live with that. But saying you were bad at your job when it was the exact opposite makes you see red.

“Y/N?” Natasha says over the comms.

“Here” you answer.

“A little help”

Those three words make your stomach drop. Natasha asking for your help?

This must be life or death kind of bad.

“Tell me where you are” you ask, breaking into the building.

“Intelligence room. Surrounded by at least 20 guards”

“Use the vents to go out and grab one of their vehicles. I’ll distract them”

“You’re gonna take down 20 people all on your own?”

“Just do as I say, Romanoff”

It feels good to finally use all your strenght. You practically rip open a door that sets off an alarm, and then you throw a couple of grenades around.

Now, all eyes are on you.

Sure enough, it takes them a few minutes to come find you, but you’re ready to shoot at the first guards, and when the second wave has gone through their ammo, you prepare for hand to hand combat.

“I’m out but there are two individuals after me. Towards the east, away from the jet”

“Got it. Gentleman” you turn to the man. “Change of plans. Let me go or die. Whichever is fine by me”

They laugh, until you send one of them flying across the room, his neck snapping.

“Who’s next, ladies?”

—

How could this mission have gone so wrong? Now Natasha is navigating the snowy road on a motorcycle, being chased by two of the guards and dodging their bullets.

The cold air is stabbing her hands and face but she has to keep going. She is too far away to communicate with you, but hoped you had the good sense of going back to the jet.

She’d find a way to survive.

Or maybe not, as she notices a third motorcycle joining the chase.

Through the rearview mirror, she sees the new person approaching one of the guards. A fight ensues and an exchange of shots. Next thing Natasha saw was the motorcycles colliding.

“Y/N?” she tries the comms, hoping you aren’t stupid enough to be knocking down people. Whoever those two were, the force of the hit was enough to kill them.

And yet, one of them begins to run after Natasha and the man still chasing her. The figure is fast approaching, which is ridiculous, considering Natasha was going 150 miles per hour.

The brute is clearly scared, as his movements become more erratic, trying to get rid of Natasha and the mysterious figure at the same time. He shoots behind him and then at Natasha, getting to one of the tires in her bike.

She tries to keep the handle steady, but can’t turn on the curve ahead of her. Natasha is sent flying directly to a river, the cold water making her momentarily paralized. The currents confused her, and she couldn’t tell up from down. She swam and swam, until her arms were too tired.

She began to drift, and the last thing she saw was a shadow hovering above her.

—

“Natasha? Nat?” you plead, doing CPR as gently as you can. You don’t want to add cracked ribs to her list of injuries.

Finally, after what felt like hours but were only seconds, Natasha lunges forward, coughing and throwing up water. You hold her head, helping her until she can breathe again.

“I’m freezing” Natasha complains, looking around. “Did we lose them? How did you…” she then turns to you and widens her eyes. “You’re bleeding”

“Yeah, he shot me. It’ll stop in a second. And yes, we lost them. Though I’m sure HYDRA is sending more people to track us down. Come on” you stand up, offering your hand. Natasha takes it and is once again surpised by how strong you are.

Your body is also warmer than hers, even if you dived to rescue her. On pure instinct, Natasha comes closer, practically melting against your body heat.

“You’re hiding something” she states and you chuckle.

“Now’s not the time. Come on, I’ll carry you. There must be a safe house close to the river”

Natasha climbs to your back, and as if she weights nothing, you walk down the river, trusting she’ll keep an eye for any place to hide.

Sure enough, after ten minutes of walking, the redhead gets your attention and points at the right. There’s a small cottage hiding between some trees.

“Here” you say as you kick open the door, not bothering to find a key. You set Natasha down and go around the place, looking for blankets and anything that will make her warm.

“Did it stop bleeding?” she asks, looking at your abdomen. You nod, placing a blanket over her shoulder and checking for other injuries. “Are you a super soldier?”

You smile, thinking that Fury will be up in arms. But technically, you didn’t tell Natasha. She figured it out.

“Yes”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Who else knows?” Natasha says, pulling the blanket closer, as if it will help her cover from you as well. It’s clear she doesn’t trust you right now.

“Fury asked me to keep a low profile. He’s the only one that knows. I think he’s concerned about the integrity of SHIELD. You know him, keeping an ace up his sleeve”

“How long have you known him for?”

“Thirty years, give or take. My existence is top secret, and I spent some time away from the job. My father died, and he was the last person that I knew before everything, so… it was hard, I guess”

“I’m sorry”

“Me too. I didn’t like lying to you or pretending to be something I’m not”

Natasha kicks herself for not noticing sooner. It’s so glaringly obvious now that she has to roll her eyes at herself.

Your build, the fact that you never seem to be tired or catching your breath. Hell, the fact you never train with anyone else.

Natasha made an assumption and ran with it, instead of trying to see past it.

“Hey, you ok?” you ask, craddling her head in your hands. “Did you hit your head? Feel dizzy?”

“I’m just cold”

“We can’t start a fire” you regret, looking out. “Here” you pull her closer, your arms going around her shoulders. She tries to protest, but whatever she was about to say dies in her throat as soon as she feels how warm you are.

“This suit is all wet” she says, pulling away and taking it off. “Don’t look or I’ll kill you”

“Uh… what is going on?” your eyes dart to the ceiling, blushing. Then, you feel Natasha’s cold skin against you. “Jesus, Nat. You’re freezing”

You bury the both of you in more blankets, and feel her melting against your side. On instinct, your arms go around her waist and bring her closer, to which she responds by burying her face on the crook of your neck.

“So I can’t look but I can touch, huh?”

“Glad we understand each other”

—

“So…”

“So” Natasha says, landing the jet back home.

“Can we be friends? Friendly, at least?”

“No” she stands up, walking towards you. “Friends don’t look at each other the way you’ve been looking at me for the entire ride home”

“Can you blame me?” your eyes drift to her cleavage, remembering how she was practically naked and clinging to you as if her life depended on it.

“Wine and dine me, Y/L/N. And we’ll take it from there”

“Yes, Ma’am”

“Am I interrupting?” Fury shouts from the hangar.

“Yes” you say, but Natasha leaves, glaring at Fury on her way out.

“I’ve known you for thirty years and you still can’t keep it together around a pretty lady. And now I’m in trouble too” Fury says, clearly displeased.

“Hey, at least you don’t have that problem with Rogers, huh?”

“For now, Y/L/N. There’s always some trouble waiting around the courner”

You laugh and clap his back, leaving the jet. His plan may have failed, but you’re certainly not complaining.

Not when you have a hot date waiting for you.

[mellowsadistic]

The Succubus - Valentine's Day

A sequel to The Succubus.

***

“Good morning, little cucky,” the monster cooed, peering over the bars of the crib. “Happy Valentine’s Day! Could you hear the grown-ups having their fun earlier, sweetie? I hope we didn’t wake you…”

Debbie glowered at her, all too aware of how ridiculous she must look trying to be intimidating with a pacifier bobbing in her mouth, lying at the bottom of an oversized crib beneath a set of Disney princess bedsheets. Her eyes were red, and there were tears drying on her cheeks as well. She had indeed woken up to the loud sounds of lovemaking coming from her former bedroom.

The Succubus laughed. “Oh dear! Someone’s a very grumpy girl today! Looks like we did wake you after all, huh? I guess you’ll just have to have an extra-long nap this afternoon to make up for it. But right now it’s time to get you up and dressed, little one!” She flung back the princess covers to reveal Debbie’s body, nude but for the thick disposable diaper around her waist.

Debbie slipped out of her crib, her nappy sagging heavily between her legs as she got to her feet. Her bottom lip trembled behind her soother. She’d woken up wet again.

The Succubus reached out, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and put her hand on Debbie’s crotch. Debbie could feel the cold, soggy padding pressing against her pussy. “That’s my little bedwetter,” said the Succubus softly. She slipped a finger past the leak guards, her eyes not leaving Debbie’s face. “Soaked again... Mummy’s poor widdle baby just can’t contwol herself, can she?”  Then she spun her around and pulled out the back of her diaper. “But you’re still not pooping at night.” She turned her back around, smiling horribly. “Don’t worry though. Sooner or later you’ll start waking up stinky.”

Debbie imagined waking up every morning to a yucky mess in the seat of her pants and no memory of how it had got there, and felt sick at the thought. The Succubus wanted her to be fully incontinent. Her horrifying voice power had served to strip Debbie of most of her daytime control, but her commands didn’t work as well when Debbie was sleeping. It had taken weeks of ‘special medicine’ in her baby bottles, but now she was starting to reliably wake up in pissy Pampers. Yet the creature who had stolen her adulthood clearly wouldn’t be satisfied until she was doing the most babyish thing possible in her pants while she slept.

Once her hair was tied up in pigtails, frilly socks had been pulled over her feet, and she was dressed in a pale pink frock that failed to reach past the drooping, discoloured seat of her nappy (her overnight diaper was never changed before she made her morning poo-poo), Debbie was ready to head downstairs for breakfast. Mealtimes had been bad enough from the start, when the demon liked to cram her body inside a tight highchair, tie a bib around her neck, and feed her jar after jar of bland, mushy baby food – but things had become even worse ever since she’d realised there was another, better way to feed her ‘baby girl’.

They headed into the living room rather than the kitchen once they’d gone down the stairs, to find John lounging in an armchair having just finished his breakfast. His empty tray was sitting on a table beside him.

“Go and kiss Daddy good morning,” said the Succubus, patting Debbie’s diapered bottom to send her on her way.

Debbie hurried over to her husband. She wasn’t really allowed to kiss him, she knew. Instead she pressed the shield of her binky briefly against his cheek and let him pat her on the head. “Good morning, pretty princess,” he cooed, and Debbie’s heart did a little flutter despite herself.

She turned around and felt her stomach roll, as it always did, at the sight of the Succubus sitting on the sofa with her large, heavy tits out of her top. A droplet of milk was glistening on the end of one of her nipples. “Come to Mummy, baby,” she said seductively, her dark eyes burning like coals. “Time for your feeding.”

Debbie toddled to the sofa, diaper crinkling noisily, and lay herself across the monster woman’s lap. It had taken a while for her milk to come in, but now she produced enough that Debbie had three meals a day from her boobs, supplemented in the evenings by oatmeal and store-bought baby food. With a wet pop, the Succubus removed the dummy from her mouth and guided her lips slowly towards her waiting breast, clearly savouring the look of revulsion on her victim’s face.

Debbie felt the warm nipple enter her mouth, and her lips closed around it and began to suckle instinctively, enthusiastically, against her will. Hot, creamy breastmilk ran down her throat at once. It had a rum-like sweetness to it that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but no matter how hard she tried, Debbie couldn’t ignore the fact that she was guzzling milk from another woman’s tits. It didn’t help that the Succubus cooed to her in a sickening sweet voice while she fed.

“Good girl, Debbie! Drink up all your milkies, that’s a good baby. Isn’t it yummy-wummy? Straight from Mummy’s boobies to baby’s belly.”

The milk seemed endless, and Debbie’s stomach already felt full to bursting when she was moved onto the second breast. But she knew better than to try and fight. That would just make the creature use that cold, awful voice, and Debbie would simply end up doing as she was told anyway. She may even earn herself a spanking to boot. At last she finished her breakfast, and after being briefly burped with her head over the Succubus’s shoulder, the monster kissed her on the forehead, shoved her pacifier back between her lips, and got up. “Time for Mummy to have her breakfast too,” she said, her eyes sparkling. “I think pancakes sound tasty. You stay here and behave yourself, okay sweetie?” And she left Debbie sitting on the sofa feeling heavy and tired, with her tummy full to the brim with breastmilk.

But Debbie knew she had a rare opportunity. It wasn’t often that the Succubus left her alone with her husband. John was still in his armchair, reading the paper, and the moment the demon left the living room, Debbie got off the sofa and waddled over to him as fast as she could. She could feel the milk sloshing around in her stomach. John looked up from his paper at the sound of her rustling diaper just as she reached him. Pushing aside his newspaper, her gaze fixed on his handsome face, Debbie clambered into her husband’s lap and straddled one of his legs. She bounced impatiently on his knee, and John wrinkled his nose at the pee-pee smell, but he chuckled indulgently all the same. “Do you want a horsey-ride, little missy?”

“Yes please,” Debbie whispered breathily, her soother falling from her mouth and dangling on the end of its chord. It had been over two weeks since she’d last had the opportunity for a ‘horsey-ride’ on his lap, but she felt that if the two of them could just have something resembling an intimate moment today, on Valentine’s Day, it would somehow undo the Succubus’s brainwashing and make John see her as a woman again.

John raised his eyebrow at her.

“Yes please, Daddy,” she corrected, hating the monster that had done this to her loving husband.

John nodded, satisfied, and started to bounce his knee. “Horsey, horsey, don’t you stop,” he sang, “just let your feet go clippety-clop!”

Debbie suppressed a moan of pleasure as her padded pussy was pressed hard against his knee with each bounce. If she closed her eyes and ignored the singing, if she pressed her body against his chest and pretended her pants weren’t full of pee-pee, she could almost pretend that they were making love.

“Your tail goes swish and your wheels go round!”

Her clit was pulsing delightfully. She could feel herself getting closer and closer to orgasm. She was so desperate these days. She was almost there… She was right on the edge…

“Giddy up, we’re homeward bound!”

“I think that’s enough of that!” came the Succubus’s amused voice, and Debbie felt arms loop around her middle and lift her effortlessly off her husband’s knee.

“Noooo!” she shrieked, kicking her legs and humping the air desperately. Her pussy was spasming, tantalisingly close to relief. “No! No! No!”

Her feet hit the floor and there was a sharp smack on her bottom. “Aren’t you a lucky girl, getting to play on Daddy’s lap for a bit!” the demon crooned darkly. She swatted Debbie’s bottom again. “But settle down now, babykins. You can’t play horsey forever, and Daddy doesn’t want you rubbing your disgusting, piss-soaked diaper all over him.”

“Pleeeease…” Debbie begged, tears welling up in her eyes. She pressed her hand against the front of her nappy and started to rub. She couldn’t stop herself. She needed release.

“Bad girl, Debbie!” the Succubus scolded, pushing her hands away from her crotch. “Is that what Mummy’s taught you to do when you’re feeling naughty tingles in your no-no spot?”

Debbie whined. She clenched her fists at her sides and bounced on the spot. Her pussy was so achy. She hated asking, hated what it involved, but it was the only time the Succubus ever allowed her to orgasm. Most of the time the monster refused her. But occasionally, just frequently enough, she’d say yes.

“Mummy…” Debbie said through gritted teeth. “Please can I have sex?”

“Keep going, baby,” the Succubus said, her eyes glittering maliciously. “Ask properly.”

“I know… I know I’m too silly and little for real sex,” said Debbie, glaring at the floor, “but I want to play pretend. Please can I have sex with my teddy bear?”

The Succubus ran her fingers through one of Debbie’s pigtails, considering, letting the silence drag on. “Yes you may, baby,” she said finally. “Go get teddy.”

Debbie rushed over to the toybox that sat in the corner of the room and pulled out an enormous teddy bear, disentangling him from some of her dress-up clothes. But she’d only gone two steps back towards the Succubus when she stopped dead. For a moment, she couldn’t figure out what was wrong. Then a soft grunt escaped her lips. Her knees began to bend, and she found herself sinking into an uncontrollable squat. Tears spilled down her cheeks. “No…” she sobbed.

“Uh-oh!” sang the Succubus, and Debbie could hear the grin on her face. “Looks like it’s time for someone’s morning whoopsies!”

John laughed. “I’m just glad she waited until she was out of my lap!”

Debbie let out a loud, unladylike grunt, following by another sob, and then she got to work pushing last night’s din-dins into her pants. Her diaper drooped even lower beneath the hem of her frock as a heavy, smelly mess dropped into the back. Her face was scrunched up as though she was straining with all her might to make as big of a poo-poo as she possibly could in her Pampers, although the truth was that she was quite out of control of her own body. Her nappy sagged again as she dumped another load into it, accompanied by a fresh wave of wee-wee, so that her baby pants hung so heavily between her thighs they were halfway down to her knees. Then, with a final grunt, Debbie straightened up.

“Mummy…” she whimpered. “Please can I have a change before… before…”

The Succubus’s face was as full of delight as Debbie’s was with horror. She approached the quivering baby woman like a predator. “No, little one,” she said, her tone mocking. “If you want your special rub-rubs today then you have to have them now, in your dirty diaper.” She shoved Debbie’s dummy back between her lips, took her by the hand, and led her over to the centre of the room. “Put teddy down here,” she said, pointing at the floor. Arms trembling, Debbie did as she was told. She felt sick with shame, but even with the horrible, babyish mess in her pants, her pussy was still burning needily. “Good girl,” said the monster, flushed with arousal. “Now you can have sex with teddy, and I can have sex with your husband.” She looked over at John. “Ready for round two?” she asked, smirking.

John grinned back and started to undo his belt as his lover strutted over to him, stripping off her clothes as she went. Meanwhile Debbie lowered herself gently to the floor, on top of her teddy bear. She nearly gagged when the poop in her diaper squished against her bottom, but she was almost too horny to care. The first thrust against teddy sent a wave of pleasure coursing through her body, and she couldn’t stop herself moaning like a slut. She heard John and the Succubus laugh, but she kept going, grinding her aching, diaper-clad pussy against her bear, picking up speed. But then she made the mistake of looking up, and although she didn’t stop humping, Debbie started to wail at the sight of the demon riding her husband’s cock. She was straddling his lap, bouncing up and down on his manhood with her head thrown back in ecstasy. “Oh, oh, ohhh!” she moaned.

Debbie felt her orgasm getting closer and closer, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the nightmare happening before her. She sucked frantically on her binky and went cross-eyed as she thrust against her teddy bear, her head dizzy with need. She was right on the edge. And then she was over it, she was cumming in her stinky, sopping wet diaper – and as she did, the Succubus looked over her shoulder with an evil smile and whispered, “Happy Valentine’s Day, baby girl…”

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Introduction/Part One

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, (future) Bjorn

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Word Count: 2445

Warnings: time travel being possible, bullying, getting chased by some very confused vikings, imprisonment

Masterlist Here

"Cmon Jason. Give it a rest," you heard one of his friends tell him, but you were already crossing the bridge to get away from them.

You'd came to the park after school to relax after yet another hellish day of studying. You were a history student, obsessed with the Vikings, and sadly for some reason Jason's enemy number one. Apparently, the frat boy still held a grudge for the time you rejected him last year and decided to make your life a misery.

As you were halfway across the bridge you heard laughing then footsteps and just as you went to turn you felt him grab your bag off your shoulder. Well, he tried. You grabbed it back, yelling "help!" As his other friend tried to help him pull it away. 

You glanced behind you to see if anyone was near but no. You were alone of the bridge 6 feet at least above the deep lake. "Dude!" You heard the friend again as your head whipped back around.

"fine!" Jason yelled as he let go of the bag just as you had attempted to tug it from him. "Wait no!" You heard his voice before you felt the wood dig into your back and then heard a sickening snap.

You screamed as you felt the wind rush past your face, hair whipping around as your body hurtled headfirst towards the water. You felt your head sink in and the water ring in your ears like church bells as your eyes screwed up tight.

You waited for your head to crash against the rocks but instead felt your legs hit the soft ground, your butt and shoulders soon following. Your head hit the ground gently as a groan left your lips. As your eyes opened you realised not only did you feel no water or soggy clothing but that a scattered sunlight was washing over your face. 

"What the-" you muttered as you sat up. Your guitar bag was still clutched in one hand, your backpack hooked around your elbow, and now your earphones had been tossed behind you during the fall. That however did not concern you as much as the overwhelming greenery.

The Forrest around you had winding trees up to the sky with whispers of squirrels and rabbits in the background. You pulled yourself to your feet as your eyes scanned the woods. "Where am I?" You muttered as you grabbed your headphones and shoved them in your bag. 

You checked your phone however there was not only no signal but now the time had become dashes alongside the battery percentage. The Wi-Fi and Bluetooth signals were now just colourful blobs and even when you tried opening the emergency number call it refused to let you punch in the digits. You sighed and turned it off, hoping that by the time you found your way out the Forrest it would have rebooted so you could call your parents or maybe even a hospital since you'd obviously hit your head very hard.

You put the phone in your bag and zipped it up, even using the number lock your mother insisted you put on it to keep your bag safe. You weren't sure which way to go. After all no matter where you walked you could either be going closer or further to whatever destination would be the safest.

Fuck it. You thought. There's only one way to find out. You walked through the forest, not even trying to not step on twigs or ruffle leaves since you were probably just far deeper into the campus woods than you'd ever been before. However, then you heard voices.

Well laughter really. At least three men. Your footsteps slowed encase Jason and his friends had somehow made you lose your mind and we're torturing you but no. Instead, you held back a gasp as you peaked through the leaves to see four men with their backs to you.

One was sat on a log playing with what looked like a dagger while another two practised throwing axes. Fuck. All three were dressed as if they were Vikings. Perhaps you'd been studying them too much and had officially lost your marbles.

Or perhaps the other Viking nerds in your school had formed a club. As you debated taking a step forward one of the men missed his throw causing another to yell out a jab. As the man span round to answer his eyes stopped when he saw you. His hand shot out to nudge the man next to him who turned around.

He was a brunette man with a long braid down how back "I'm Ubbe," the boy called as he stepped forward, "Who are you? Why are you here?" He called however your eyes wandered down then widened as you saw him gripping his axe.

"Tell us!" The boy who had missed called, stepping closer. Your eyes wandered to the third who was reaching for something in his belt when you finally made up your mind.

Run. You turned, sprinting as fast as your legs could carry you. Your feet hammered against the dirt as their shouts echoed through the forest. You didn't dare glance back or stop for the branches whipping against your face. There was finally a break in the trees. Freedom. Safety you thought.

As you ran you arrived at the top of a hill. You turned to look down, expecting to see your campus when dread filled your blood. No this wasn't real. A village of Vikings now looked up at where you stood on the hill.

You stood for a moment panting as you overlooked it all. That was until you heard them again. "Stop right there!" Ubbe all but screamed. 

You ran again. To your left was a high cliff facing a grey blue ocean and to your right was 3 very angry looking Vikings. You decided to take your chances with the clueless as you barrelled down the hill into what looked to be like a market.

Despite being the least terrifying person here they all jumped out your way, gasping and screaming as you ran all while Ubbe and the others chased you. 

You were running towards a bridge by a stream and decided for one last second to glance behind you. They were just running around the corner when you felt a hand grab your foot as the other got swept up in the air.

It was as if your body took flight as you fell to the ground with a large thump. You groaned as you tried to pick yourself up just for a large hand to grab your shoulder and flip you on your back. 

As you stared at his electric blue eyes your own eyes widened. "Ivar?" You whispered and his eyes widened so much you wondered if it hurt however just as he went to speak Ubbe pulled him off him.

Ubbe. Your brain clicked. There's no possible way. It couldn't be. Surely not. Ubbes hand pulling you to your feet. "I asked you a question," he growled as you gasped for air. As much as you wanted to be tough and brave and all the other things these Vikings were being faced to face to Ubbe was too much as the spots began to cloud your vision and you felt your body fall limp as the world faded to black.

-

As you began to stir you half expected to open your eyes and see your dorm room, but the hard stick pressed against your spine made you doubtful. Your eyes opened to find yourself in a wooden cage in the corner of what looked like a bedroom. It was dark and suddenly felt very small as your hands grabbed the bars as you began to shake them.

“Fuck,” you grunted as you hit your hand against the frame but instead of it budging now your hand just hurt. Before you could try for any longer you froze when you saw the door slowly push open.

“I see what you mean,” a woman’s voice muttered as she approached your cage. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her or the men behind her, “What is she wearing?” she whispered.

“We don’t know,”

“We found her like this,”

“Do you think she’s a witch?” you felt your blood run cold at the man’s word.

The woman stood up and turned to what you soon realised were her sons. In fact, now you realised who they all were. It was Sigurd who’d claimed you may be a witch but how could he possibly be real? He was a tv character after all.

“Perhaps but we cannot know for sure yet,” Aslaug whispered to her son, “Can you speak child?” she called out to you as if she was shouting on a dog. Your head raised so you could get a better look, but you couldn’t bring yourself to speak.

“What are we going to do?” Ubbe asked. As the four spoke amongst themselves you realised one was missing. Ivar was nowhere to be seen.

“Your father should be home any day now. We will wait for him,” Aslaug finally determined, “I have never seen someone like this. I do not wish to find out what harm she can cause alone,” with that the four turned to leave, shutting the door and leaving you in the stale dark once more.

You sighed as you leaned back against the cage however as your eyes scanned the room you noticed your bags sitting in the corner making your head instantly perk up. You knew you didn’t have anything sharp in it but as your stomach rumbled you realised what you did need. Food.

As you began to wonder how you would get to your things you heard the door crack open. You looked up as Ivar dragged himself into the room, constantly checking over his shoulder before he shut the door and brought himself over to your cage. His eyes scanned your frame as you brought your knees to your chest and hugged them tightly.

“Who are you?” he murmured, his eyes landing on your face, “and how do you know my name?” the silence that followed was only broken by the loud rumble of your stomach once more as you winced. “You’re hungry?” he asked.

Finally, you nodded, and a smile quirked onto his lips, “So you do understand?” you nodded again, “If you tell me who you are I’ll bring you something to eat,”

You paused as you decided if it was worth breaking the façade, you’d created but as your stomach churned you realised starving to death before Ragnar returned was not worth it. you whispered your name, but your voice was hoarse from lack of use.

Ivars’s head tilted slightly as his eyebrows knitted, “What a usual name,” he mused.

You bit back a laugh. “Coming from Ivar the boneless,” you muttered.

His eyes widened, a look of what you couldn’t tell if shock or rage or both washed over his face. “What did you call me?” he half yelled, grabbing onto the bars of the cage you were suddenly thankful for.

“It’s what everyone calls you!” you rushed out, pushing yourself as far away as possible, “In the textbooks that’s what legend says you were called I’m sorry,”

He paused, his hands slipping from the bar as the confused look returned, “What is a textbook?”

“Like a history book,” you said but that did little to explain it to him, “It’s like- “you paused trying to think what the closest thing to a Viking textbook was, “It’s like how you pass down stories in songs! We write them down in textbooks, so nobody forgets,”

Ivar paused for a moment as he finally relaxed again, “Where did you come from?” he asked, “And how do they know who I am? What have you told them?”

“I haven’t told them anything, my teachers they taught it to me,” you said, finally allowing yourself to sit at ease again, “I’m from the future,” the words felt foreign in your mouth as Ivar’s blue eyes widened.

“Prove it,”

“You’re Ivar the boneless, son of Ragnar Lothbrok,” you spoke but your voice was shaky as you tried to remember all you could, “Brother of Bjorn Ironside who explored the Mediterranean sea. Son of Aslaug. You go on to command the great heathen army,” you said and as you spoke Ivar looked like a child being read a bedtime story about pirates and mermaids, “You Ivar are a legend where I am from,” perhaps bending the truth a little but what would he know.

“And who- “

You cut him off this time when you felt your stomach lurch, “You said you would feed me. I won’t tell you anything else till you live up to your word,” you tried to sound firm, but it clearly wasn’t your style.

Still though Ivar nodded as he slowly began to drag himself away, “I shall return,” he said as he opened the door, a small smile tugging at his lips, “Don’t go anywhere,” he teased before shutting the door behind him.

You rolled your eyes as you sunk back into the wood behind you. “Oh god he really is nuts,” you whispered. Then again perhaps it was you that was nuts. After all you had just been talking to a Viking who’d died thousands of years ago.

Part two

General Taglist: @strvngestark @headinfantasy @meg-ro @427120lxld @obx-josie18 @ravenmoore14 @tessakate

Vikings Taglist: @bellroclucky03 @ringpopdust @hypocritic-trash-baby @tessakate

[messedupfan]

Chapter 22

Summary: Reader and Wanda go on their very first date.

A/n: HELLLLOOOO!!! So sorry for the VERY late update. I was working on this almost everyday once I started to feel more comfortable at my new job. But it was slow going with a few stuck moments. Anyway! Hope y'all enjoy now that we are FINALLY HERE!! Enjoy!

Masterlist | All Stories Taglist  | All Chapters

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

You and Wanda slosh through the front door of her house. Both of you are drenched in water and covered in mud. The heel of one of her shoes is dangling from the bottom as it had broken at some point in the date. You are both exhausted from the evening. Wanda doesn’t care as the two track mud into the house and crash on the couch with their soggy clothes. You sigh as you throw your head back. 

“You are never allowed to do witchcraft with your friends ever again,” you mutter tiredly. 

Wanda scoffs, “Believe me. I’m never risking it again. Agatha really knows her stuff.” 

Hours Earlier 

You adjust your collar a couple of times as you wait outside of Wanda’s house. You knock on the door again and look at the time on your watch. You're almost certain she's in her room getting ready and that she will come down stairs as she is putting on an eating as say that you could have just come in. But the two of you agreed to treat this date like a blind date. No expectations of each other. You ring the doorbell this time and continue to wait. 

Wanda opens the door and continues to blindly search to connect the two ends of her earring. You smirk as you step inside. “You know that you could have just walked in, right?” You chuckle softly to yourself, you certainly do know her better than you thought you did. 

“Wanda Maximoff?” You say dumbly and when she has the earring locked onto her earlobe she drops her hands and looks at you to see if you’re being serious. 

“Really? You take my words too seriously sometimes,” she mumbles as she shakes her head with a scoff. You wink as you hold out the bouquet of flowers that you bought for her. She accepts them with a smile. “Thank you, this was very thoughtful of you.” She takes your hand and walks you into the kitchen so that she can hand you a vase she had put away. “Set them up for me while I finish getting ready please,” Wanda presses her soft lips against your jawline. You feel your heart flutter at the small display of affection. 

“Yeah, no problem,” you wink at her and take the vase and flowers as she runs up the stairs. It takes you no time at all to properly add the flowers to the vase. What takes you more time is figuring out where the best place to leave it is. You end up setting it in the middle of the table. Then you make your way up to her room. She is sitting at her vanity, finishing up her makeup. 

“I thought we didn’t know each other,” she jokes as you sit on the edge of her bed. 

You let off a soft huff of a laugh, “I thought it was a good idea at first. But it’s a lot harder than I thought it would be. I just want this date to be as relaxing as possible. Considering that you and your friends cursed it.” 

Wanda rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Oh please, we are not capable of cursing anything.” 

You lift your shoulders up with an unconvinced expression. “If you say so.” 

“I need your help, heels or no heels?” Wanda asks as she holds up a nice flat shoe and an even nicer heel with a red bottom. You tilt your head to the side as you consider both options. You hum and picture her in either shoe and her comfortability. 

“I don’t know how you feel about wearing heels but I’m thinking you should wear the heels. If you’re not comfortable with that, stay safe and go with the flats,” you give your honest opinion. Wanda nods considering your words and hands you both heels. You take the cue and kneel in front of her to put her foot in each heel. 

“I don’t wear them often but this feels like a special occasion to go all out,” Wanda says as she smiles down at you. Noticing how your touch is so delicate on her ankles as you slip her heels on her. 

You grin and wink as you look up at her. You rise and offer your hands to help her stand. As she does, she falls against you and you catch her easily. You steady the both of you with a small laugh. “Woah! Are you okay?” 

Wanda nods, “Uh, yeah. I just got a little light headed. I was a little nervous about this all day. I’m honestly not sure if I’ve eaten today.” You shake her head and quietly scold her for not taking better care of herself. Before the two of you leave you have her drink a glass of water. 

On the way to the restaurant, she jams along to the playlist that you typically play for Rachel. She knows almost all of the songs and attempts to sing the chorus to the ones she doesn’t know. You chuckle and let her know that’s how you sing all of the songs. She lightly smacks your shoulder and says that you need to join her. You shake your head, knowing that you’re mostly going to be mumbling instead of singing because this isn’t your typical playlist. You forgot it was on until Wanda turned on your stereo. It was too late to switch it once she was singing along. 

Because of wanting to avoid running into anyone that either of you know, you made reservations at a restaurant an hour and a half away from where the two of you live. Halfway through the drive you reach your hand out and lace your fingers through hers. She smiles at you and you wink at her. This is going to be the best first date of your life. You can feel it. 

When you arrive the restaurant appears to be very busy. The entrance is crowded and so is the bar. You feel some relief because you made the reservations on Wednesday when you and Wanda had a moment to talk about where to go. She had said that someone recommended it to her once but she couldn’t for the life of her remember. But the relief dissipates when the hostess warns you that even though you made reservations it’s a forty-five minute wait. You and Wanda try to find a spot at the bar to wait but every chance a seat opens up, it’s stolen by another couple. You start to grow frustrated and Wanda can sense it, she starts to rub your back to calm you and it instantly does. Her delicate touch relaxes the tense muscles in your body. You thank her with a kiss on her temple and wrap your arm around her waist. She leans into your chest as she continues to rub your back. 

“Maybe we should have picked a diner in the middle of nowhere,” you remark softly. Wanda responds with a small laugh as she turns to face you in your arms.

“Where’s the fun in that?” She says as she leans her chin on your shoulder and looks up at you. 

“I’d feel a little better about waiting if you ate something today,” you make a face letting her know that she shouldn’t have skipped any meals today. 

“Stop worrying about me,” Wanda says. “Go back to pretending that I'm a stranger and this is a blind date.” 

You shake your head and hum. “I guess we're pretending that I’m an asshole tonight too,” you joke. Wanda's stomach grumbles. “See?” You tilt your head down to talk to her stomach. “I'm trying to tell her to feed you. She doesn't want to listen.” Wanda rolls her eyes with a smile, amused by your antics. 

A blond-ish brunette-ish pregnant woman overhears your conversation and puts her hand on Wanda’s shoulder to get her attention. “My husband does the same thing to me. How far along are you? You are so lucky, you aren't showing at all!” You and Wanda both freeze for a moment at the question. Then you both laugh at the situation. 

“No, sorry, I'm not, we're just…” Wanda stumbles on her explanation. 

“It's our first date,” you clarify with a grin. Wanda nods in agreement. 

“Oh!” The pregnant woman covers her mouth as her blue eyes widen. “I’m so sorry! You two just seem so comfortable! Not at all first date energy.” You and Wanda nod with wide grins, she pats your back a couple of times and you squeeze her hip. 

“Thank you. We've been friends for almost a year now. Our kids have been friends a little bit longer than us actually and they hang out all of the time so it's brought us closer,” you explain with a grin as you think about their little plan to get you and Wanda together. It was sweet that they could even see what's meant to be. 

“Oh, that's lovely,” the woman smiles as she rubs her belly as she speaks. 

“Honey, our table is ready,” her husband says as returns to her side. He's a taller man with brunette hair with gray sides and a salt and pepper beard. The woman says it was a lovely chat while her husband escorts her towards the hostess. 

You and Wanda share a look as the idea of being mistaken for a married or expecting couple sticks in your minds. It also reminds you of the first night the two of you went out as friends. The way that you both lied to the overly flirty waiter about your relationship and even claimed Wanda was pregnant that night. 

You know that you're still not ready to have another child but if Wanda wanted to try for one in the near future, you wouldn't be opposed to having conversations about it. Though, you doubt she is considering it. Especially since she only recently got in a better place about the miscarriage of her daughter. It took a toll on her. It didn't help that she had lost her father around the same time. Then shortly after, her husband confessed to an affair and left her. As you think of all that she has overcome in the past few years before you even met her, you cannot fathom how she managed to get through it all. 

You take a moment to gaze at her and admire her for her strength. She is truly beautiful and strong in your eyes. 

“What's that look for,” Wanda asks in a soft tone. 

“What look?” You ask dumbly. 

“That look,” Wanda points to your face and it makes you laugh. 

“Nothing, I'm just thinking about how beautiful and strong you are.” 

Wanda blushes and hides her face in your chest. “I swear, you make me feel like a teenager,” she mumbles when she pulls back slightly. 

“Uh oh, I hope that's a good thing,” you mutter back as you look down at her. “I don't know about you but I hated being a teenager.” 

“Really? I loved being a teenager,” Wanda says, then your last name is being called and you and Wanda hurry towards the hostess to get led to a table. 

You pull her chair out for her and scoot her towards the table once she has sat down. You take the seat across from her and get a rush of giddiness. It’s all finally happening, you hadn’t even thought of how dating would be. Most of your fantasies over the year centered around the life you want to build with her. You didn’t realize you were missing the expectations of dating until sitting in front of her with a fake candle lit on a low setting sitting in the center of the table. The dim lighting of the restaurant would be enough to set the mood if it wasn’t being disrupted by everyone’s loud chatter. But you don’t let it disrupt your night. 

A silence falls between you and Wanda as you both look over the menu, neither of you certain what you’re in the mood for. Wanda is being conscious over what will give her bad breath and you’re concerned over the price point. You want to give her a good first experience. You don’t want to be a cheap date and not pay for the whole meal or dictate what she gets. 

Then the server comes by to introduce herself. 

“Hello, welcome to – oh shit, ehem, I mean… My apologies. Welcome to The Shield! My name is Maria, I will be your server tonight,” the waitress stumbles on her introduction. “Can I get you started with some drinks?” 

You look between her and Wanda with amusement in your eyes as you quickly pick up on the history there. “I'll start with water,” you say with a smile. “Then I’ll have a soda when the food gets here. Thank you.” 

The waitress writes down the order. You have to hand it to her that she is putting her professionalism ahead of her personal feelings. “And for the lady,” she asks with a tight smile. 

“I'll do water to start, I'm still deciding on what to eat then I'll pair it,” Wanda says as she keeps her eyes on the menu. 

“Please, take your time,” Maria walks away and you have to contain yourself as you continue to watch Wanda. She isn't budging, she is keeping her focus on the menu. You can tell she's embarrassed but it doesn't kill your curiosity in the slightest. 

Someone else comes by with a pitcher of water and fills the glasses while you continue to go over the menu. When you decide on the burger, you set the menu down and look at Wanda from across the table. A small amused smirk pulls on your lips as you take sips of your water.

“So, I'm assuming she was the one that recommended this restaurant to you,” you finally ask. Wanda shuts her eyes for a moment, realizing that she couldn't play it off. She looks up and opens her eyes with a small nod. “How long did she think you two were going to last?” You ask because she has admitted before that she hardly knew anything about the people she was hooking up with. It was the people that assumed that she wanted more with them that would give her details of their lives.

“You're getting a real kick out of this aren't you?” Wanda asks as she drinks some water. You laugh then control yourself and shake your head. Wanda rolls her eyes and it makes you break again. “Whatever, alright. Yes. She and I…” she waves her hand around because she doesn't want to say hooked up it sounds so childish. She's an adult. She's a mother. “For a few weeks, she might've gotten a little comfortable.”

You nod as you decide not to press for more information. You don't need any more details to know you might receive terrible service. Plus the possibility of you and/or Wanda receiving phlegm or some form of mucus in the food. You are also preparing yourself to leave a big tip out of guilt. “Do you want to go somewhere else?” You offer so that nothing can ruin the date. Wanda bites her lips as she contemplates her answer. Then she shakes her head. 

“I don't think it should be a big issue, let's just get through this,” she says as takes a sip of her water and keeps her eyes trained on the menu. You agree since Wanda hasn't eaten all day. The two of you have already had to wait for forty minutes for the table. Plus you still have to order and wait for the food to arrive. You'll probably run into difficulties finding another nice restaurant without a long wait time. Besides, it'll only create a longer night for the both of you. 

You just hope that the waitress can put aside her feelings so that your first date with Wanda doesn't end at a restaurant with a drive thru. But part of you wouldn't mind the excuse to not have to spend so much money. 

“Okay, I know what I want,” Wanda says as she looks up from the menu. She smiles as she leans her chin on the heel of her palm with her elbow on the table. You smile back at her as you lean on your side of the table resting both elbows on the table with your arms crossed. “What's going on in your mind?” She asks as she gazes at you. 

You shrug with a soft laugh, “Nothing good. I'm entertaining an idea.” 

Wanda shifts her position and makes a face out of curiosity. “An idea,” she questions as she drinks. “What kind of idea?” 

A mischievous expression crosses your eyes. “What if I tell Maria that we're celebrating our five year anniversary or something like that?” 

Wanda shakes her head with a scoff. “That's just evil,” she mutters. 

You nod your head. “I told you it was nothing good.” You reach across the table and take her hand. She bites her bottom lip taking note of how gentle you are with her. She is happy that she splurged on getting her nails done as you compliment her. As the two of you talk to get to know each other in ways you haven't learned about each other yet, you start to trace shapes on her palm with the tip of your pointer finger. 

As you're about to kiss her knuckles, that's when Maria stumbles as she passes while bringing someone else's food and it happens to fall on your table. The sauce splatters on you and on Wanda. Everyone around turns their heads in the direction of the commotion. You tell Maria that it's fine when she gives a clumsy apology. You and Wanda stand up and walk to the restrooms to wipe off the sauce from yourselves. Luckily they have a gender neutral restroom so the both of you walk in to help clean each other off. 

“I guess we should have up and left,” Wanda says as she wipes the sauce from your cheek. 

You start to laugh as you agree with her. “I can't say I blame her though. She's not the one that cursed this evening.” You place your hand on Wanda’s hip to bring her in for a short kiss on the lips. She gives you another quick kiss just before she takes a step back. 

“I think you're cursing this evening with how much you keep mentioning it,” she says as she dabs the sauce off of your shirt which you're pretty certain is ruined beyond repair.

You grab some paper towels to help her out as well. “Okay, okay, I'll stop joking about it.” Wanda’s stomach grumbles again, louder this time. You sigh, at this point, fast food is better than nothing. “How about we just grab some cheap burgers and walk the boardwalk we passed on the way over here?” You ask because that solution seems to be the only logical one at the moment. 

“Yeah, I didn't realize how hungry I was,” she frowns. The two of you finish up and the manager is trying to offer to comp this meal or offer free meal vouchers. You take the meal vouchers and hand find the pregnant woman and her husband and hand off the vouchers to them. You and Wanda walk out of that restaurant and walk to your truck. 

You hold her hand as you drive to the nearest fast food restaurant. You pick up a couple of meals in the drive thru then drive to the boardwalk. Once you’ve arrived near the boardwalk , it’s nearly impossible to find parking. You end up parking in a secluded area that isn’t actually a parking space. “Let’s hope I don't get towed or broken into,” you say as you unbuckle your seatbelt. 

“You have to stop putting stuff out there like that,” she says in a warning tone. You kiss her cheek. She rolls her eyes as she blushes slightly. She hasn’t felt this giddy in years. While the two of you walk the boardwalk in stained clothes you are each carrying a burger, you are holding the bag of french fries, and Wanda is carrying her drink. Wanda thinks about how she wouldn’t agree to a date with anyone like this. She definitely wouldn’t move forward with a second date after a night like this. She’s almost certain her younger self would think she was crazy for continuing a date that has gone this bad.

“At least it’s a nice night,” you say as you walk arm in arm with Wanda. She nods as she chews on her burger. As the two of you walk in silence, eating your food and enjoying each other’s company, Wanda steps in a crack in the wood and snaps her heel. 

“Shit!” She curses as she nearly loses her balance. You hold her steady. “Woah, careful there,” you say as you examine the situation. You were both finishing up your fries. You put what's left of your food in the bag and have her hold it as you kneel down to help her get her foot out of the shoe. 

“Alright, don’t move too much. You don’t want to sprain or twist your ankle,” you gently remove her heel that isn’t stuck first. Then you have her shift her weight on the free foot. Then you free her stuck foot. “How’s your ankle?” you ask as you look up at her.  Wanda moves her foot around then stands on it. She is filled with relief that she is un-injured. 

“It’s good,” she smiles. You start to save her shoe but it is really jammed in there. As you are about to pull it free, seagulls swoop down to take the bag away from Wanda. With the commotion, you free her shoe but stumble off of the boardwalk as Wanda tries to escape the hungry birds causing both of you to fall into the water together. 

The two of you have to swim to the shore because there isn’t an easy way to climb back onto the boardwalk. You walk Wanda back to the truck before you walk back to retrieve Wanda’s good shoe from the spot the two of you had fallen in. You had left her in the truck with the heater running and a towel around her with princesses on it. It’s one of Rachel’s towels. You find Wanda’s shoe and almost chuck it at the birds that are happily eating the remainder of fries. You walk back to the truck and think about calling it a night. “Your shoe, madame,” you say as you climb into the truck. You smirk as you notice that her makeup is running. 

“What? Is there something on my face?” Wanda asks as she blindly wipes her face with the towel. Only causing the colors to smear together. 

You kiss her cheek before you whisper, “Just your makeup.” 

Wanda’s eyes widen, she moves to look at her reflection in the sun visor mirror. “Oh my goodness! I knew I should’ve done the water proof!” Wanda exclaims. 

“It’s not that bad,” you try to make it easier on her. She glares at you and you can’t hold in your laughter anymore. This entire date just keeps getting worse and worse. But you wouldn’t want to go through a night like this with anyone else. “Alright, let’s get you home. I’m calling it a night.” Wanda doesn’t protest as she cleans her face with the towel. Staining it with her makeup. As you drive away, Wanda promises to wash the towel herself and you don’t argue. You don’t want to have to explain the mess on the towel to Rachel or even to Jean. 

Not even thirty minutes into the drive, the truck starts to make an odd sound before coming to a slow and complete stop. You look at the gauge to see that the gas is on empty. “Shit,” you burse with a frustrated groan. 

“Oh no, what’s happening now?” Wanda asks, feeling just as frustrated. 

“I don’t know! I could’ve sworn I had a full tank!” You say as you climb out of the truck to push it off to the side of the road and put it in park. You throw your head back as you discover the problem. The door to your gas tank is bent, as if they wanted you to know that they stole from you. When you swing it open you find the cap missing as well. You climb back into the truck and grab your phone. The battery is low and there is no signal because of course not. You try to look up the nearest gas station but the data keeps going in and out. So, you look at Wanda and ask, “Is your phone working?” 

Her eyes go wide as she remembers that her phone was in her purse. The purse she was wearing when she fell in the water. She has no clue if it’s working. She slowly slips her hand inside of her purse. Anticipating a pool of water and for everything to be damaged. She breathes a sigh of relief that everything is completely dry. Luckily, her phone is still fully charged and she has much better service than you do. “Remind me to complain to your brother about his company’s phone plan.” You mutter as you use her phone to map out the directions to the nearest gas station. You then try to use either of the car service apps to get a ride to the gas station but there aren’t any active drivers in the area. “Looks like I’m going to have to walk,” you sigh and shake your head. You look up at Wanda, “Do you want to stay here or come with me?” You ask her�� as you think about how you will have to carry her both ways since she doesn’t have shoes at the moment. 

Wanda also considers her options. She can’t join you and walk barefoot. But she doesn’t want to be left on her own in your truck in the middle of seemingly nowhere. Then she makes a guilty face. “I’d prefer it if we could go together, if that’s not too much to ask.” 

Seeing the guilty expression on her face causes you to adjust your own expression. Not certain what face you were making that would have her feeling guilty. “It’s not too much. This is our first date. I didn’t want to make you come with me if you didn’t want to,” you say as you mentally prepare yourself to carry Wanda the two hours the map predicts the walk should take. You’re not worried about her weight, it’s more about the length of time and your back and knees haven’t been the greatest. Since you haven’t been able to make time to exercise and you haven’t properly stretched. Not to mention your shoes aren’t meant for more than going to a nice place. You climb back out and shut and lock your door. Then you open Wanda’s door and stand with your back turned to her. “Whenever you’re ready,” you say when you notice her hesitation. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Positive,” you say as you brace yourself. 

“On second thought,” Wanda says, “I think I can wait here. It should only be a few minutes, right?” 

You turn around and look at her and shake your head.  “I wish. It’s going to be about two hours if I’m not able to hitch a ride and I’m going to need to use your phone to get me there and I’m not leaving you here without your phone.” You turn around again and this time Wanda’s hands grab your shoulders. Then her legs wrap around your waist. As you pull her on you better she locks her arms around your neck with her phone ready to guide the two of you. You shut the truck door and lock it. You shove the keys in your pocket before putting your hands on her legs to start your journey. “Did you ever think this is how you’d be riding me on our first date?” You ask in order to lighten the mood a bit. Wanda scoffs and slaps your shoulder. 

“That is… I’m appalled. I resent that. How dare you?” You can hear the smile in her voice. 

“That’s not a no,” you add with a short laugh. 

“You’re ridiculous,” she says, “For your information. I was not planning on ‘riding’ you on our first date, period! However, no, this is not at all what I expected how tonight would go.” She kisses your cheek. “But if I had to have a disastrous first date. I’m glad it’s with you.” You smile, grateful that she isn’t upset with this date turning out the way that it has. Or at least that she isn’t upset with you over it. “What was your first date ever like?” Wanda asks as she rests her chin on your shoulder. You hum as you dig through the files in your mind to find the memory. 

“My very first date?” You repeat the question as you continue to walk. “I don’t really remember to be quite honest. I know it wasn’t with Jean. I had a few childish relationships before finally convincing Jean to date me.” You start to ramble in hopes that it will bring up the memory. Unfortunately, it works and you feel yourself internally cringe. “Ah shit, I remember now,” you groan and it makes Wanda giggle in anticipation. 

“Please tell me, I really have to know now,” she begs softly. You shake your head and sigh as you prepare yourself to answer. 

“It was in eighth grade. It was the Halloween school dance. I still can't recall her name but I remember having a crush on her for some time and someone told me she liked me so I asked her to the dance.” You lift Wanda as you feel her slipping on your back a bit and she tightens her grip on you. “We tried to plan our costumes around each other but it wasn't easy for either of us to explain it to our parents because we didn't want to get in trouble so we didn't worry about it.” You smile as the memory becomes clearer and clearer. “It was sweet. You know? We danced and hung out with our friends. I think she might've kissed my cheek during a slow song. It was sweet.” 

Wanda smiles against your shoulder as she listens to the story. “That sounds sweet. How long did that relationship last?”  She asks, knowing what middle schoolers consider long term relationships. 

You take a second to think. Not certain what happened with that. Then you remember. “Not even a week. At school the week after that, I found her talking and laughing with her friends about how weird she thought I was because I wasn't gender conforming. Even then, well, especially back then.” 

“Kids are cruel,” Wanda says as she squeezes your shoulders with her arms. 

You shrug and scrunch your face. “It was a long time ago and that's possibly not the worst thing to ever happen to me. I was probably heartbroken over it for a week and haven't thought of it since. I think Jean spread some crazy rumor about her because she had my back a lot when we were growing up.” You laugh and shake your head. “What about you? What was your very first date like?” You can feel the vibration in your back as Wanda hums in thought. 

“My first date was with my first ever boyfriend. His name was Simon. He was very sweet. Very obsessed with me. We were in the middle of our sophomore year of high school. I wasn’t really interested in the whole dating thing because of my friends dating so much. It just seemed like an emotional rollercoaster that I didn't need.” She adjusts herself when she feels herself slipping again. “But he was cute and he was sweet and I felt really giddy when he asked me out. We walked to a nearby ice cream shop after school instead of going home on our buses. Which, my mom freaked but it’s not like I could have texted her. My parents wouldn’t let me have a phone and once I found out how expensive those things were, honestly, I couldn’t blame them. But at the time I gave them that age old speech of being almost sixteen yada yada.” She laughs softly as she remembers the screaming match she had with her mom. Then she sighs and buries her face in your neck. She groans. “I don't want my boys to grow up.” 

You smile and nod. “I hear you. I'm dreading the day Rachel flips on us because Jean and I definitely do not have good karma.”

The rest of the way to the gas station, you and Wanda continue to get to know each other on a level neither of you had attempted to explore before. Normally it’s seen as a red flag to be talking about exes on a first date. But after the conversation of “firsts” neither of you could help but finally ask more about each other’s former marriages. Sure, the two of you have gone over those relationships somewhat over the year the two of you have gotten to know each other. But both of you held back as friends, not trying to pry too much in each other's lives or pasts. To keep things strictly to a level of a platonic friendship because every time the two of you got into deep conversations, you always felt the connection deepening. Now seeing each other as potential life partners, it’s better for both of you to get all of the skeletons out of the closet when there is time and space to get the information out. Especially with the unpredictability of either former spouse.

“Wait, wait, so Jean wanted to have a threesome and you agreed?” Wanda asks, flabbergasted by the idea. 

“Hold on, I said eventually I agreed. She made a pretty good argument that we were young and that we hadn’t really been with anyone but each other, and at the time, things had gotten pretty dead between us. So I agreed to consider the idea. But as we talked about it, we didn’t want to do it anymore. It got complicated and started to feel creepy. So we didn’t go through with it. But Jean really wanted to experiment with her sexuality a bit more and that’s when I realized I was losinging her,” you explain the situation a bit better. 

“That’s the saddest ‘almost threesome’ story I’d ever heard,” Wanda says lightly. “I almost want to offer you another chance just to make you feel better.” The both of you laugh at the thought. 

Finally, after about an hour of walking, you are able to stop as you come up to the parking lot of a fast food restaurant. You set Wanda on the bench and stretch as she orders a car to pick the two of you up from. “Maybe I can convince – dammit! I hate small towns,” Wanda groans. 

You look back at her from where you are stretching. “What’s wrong?”

“There are no active drivers in the area,” she says as she shows you the phone. You sigh for a second then shrug and act unphased. 

“It’s not ideal but I can still carry you to the gas station. Or maybe,” you tap your chin as you think. “Can you check if there is a supermarket or some sort of multipurpose store close by?” Wanda searches through the phone while you scan the area with your eyes. “Nevermind, found it,” you say as you point to the large building a few parking lots away. 

Wanda thanks you and puts her phone in her bag before climbing back onto your back. You walk to the store and continue to carry her until you get to the shoe section. There aren’t a lot of great options but now isn’t the time to be picky. She grabs the first pair of sneakers that fit. They are kept together by a stretchy string that you use your swiss army knife to cut and pocket the price tag so that she can have shoes to walk around the store. She straightens out her outfit. “Okay, let’s go pay for these,” Wanda says. 

You shake your head and take her hand. “Not yet,” you say. You guide her over to the section of the store where they have bikes, scooters, skates, and skateboards for sale. “Did I ever tell you that I used to skate?” You ask as you look at the prices on the boards available. Trying to find the cheapest option. 

“Did I ever tell you that I have absolutely no idea what to do with one of those?” Wanda says as she looks at you with a mix of amusement and amazement. 

You shrug again, “That’s okay. You want a scooter or a bike?” You point to the other options. “Roller Skates?” you point out and Wanda laughs. 

“Is this seriously what it’s come to?” You nod as you settle on a skateboard with a Barbie logo on it, figuring that you’ll start to teach Rachel how to use it since she’s old enough to learn. Wanda looks over her options. “I don’t know, I don’t think anything will be comfortable to ride in this outfit, especially not a bike,” she says as she contemplates. You notice a red beach cruiser with white accents. The tires are black with white rims. It has a white basket with a front light attached. The white seat isn’t wide which makes you cringe at the thought but there isn’t a bike with any better seat options. The two ninety-nine price tag gives you pause but you figure that it’s still a better option than having her struggle on a scooter or with roller skates, especially since the sneakers need to be paid for regardless. 

You pull out the bike and say, “How about this one and we grab some pants for you from over there?” You point in the direction the two of you had just come from. 

Wanda bites her lips, “I’m paying,” she states and you shake your head. 

“I’ll agree to splitting the cost but I’m not letting you pay for all of it,” you negotiate. 

She nods, “Okay, I’m cool with that.” 

The two of you move onto the section with the discounted mixed clothing and Wanda picks out a simple gray sweatpants. You push the bike through the store. When everything is purchased and Wanda is comfortable, the two of you ride the rest of the way to the gas station successfully. You purchase a portable tank of gas and breathe a sigh of relief that this plan is working. Then as you and Wanda are on your way back to your truck, a loud clap of thunder warns the two of you. 

As you and Wanda try to race back, the rain starts to fall down pretty heavily. You try to slow down on your skateboard but as you do, the road becomes slippery and you guide the skateboard to go off on the side of the road to soften the blow. You fall into the mud. Wanda uses the breaks on her bike to come to a full stop. 

“Y/n!” Wanda shouts from the side of the road. Through the rain and darkness she can't see you. Her heart is pounding. Terrified that you're dead. “Y/n!” She calls out again, looking for any sign of you. 

You groan as you stand up and stretch. You grab the skateboard and sigh at how muddy you are now. “I'm okay!” You shout as you move up to where Wanda is. She is instantly filled with an overwhelming amount of relief. It causes her to start crying. You walk up to hold her as she continues to cry. “It's okay, it's okay. I know, I'm okay,” you try to settle her down. 

Once she stops crying you kiss her on the lips. Her hands grip the front of your shirt as she pulls you closer. The two of you deepen the kiss, feeling an intense gratitude towards being alive and in each other's presence. You pull away and rest your forehead against hers with your eyes closed to catch your breath. 

“How far are we from the truck?” You ask as you step back. 

Wanda clears her throat and her mind as she looks at the pin she dropped on her map to mark where the truck was left. “Only a few more minutes,” she confirms. “You're walking. I'll fill the tank. I don't need you falling again.” You want to argue that you'll be fine but instead you nod and see her off. You start walking towards the car while carrying the skateboard. When you get there, you lift the bike onto the bed of your truck after setting the skateboard inside. You make your way around to where Wanda is finishing up filling the gas tank. 

When the truck starts up, the both of you are relieved that nothing else is wrong as you drive back to Wanda's house. When you guys finally get to her house you're both exhausted. Wanda unfortunately closes the door on her dress and doesn't realize until she rips it. She sighs and just opens the door and steps away before closing the door again. 

You and Wanda slosh through the front door of her house. Both of you are drenched in water and covered in mud. The heel of one of her shoes is dangling from the bottom as it had broken at some point in the date. You are both exhausted from the evening. Wanda doesn’t care as the two track mud into the house and crash on the couch with their soggy clothes. You sigh as you throw your head back. 

“You are never allowed to do witchcraft with your friends ever again,” you mutter tiredly. 

Wanda scoffs, “Believe me. I’m never risking it again. Agatha really knows her stuff.” You nod and sigh as you rub your face. Feeling the exhaustion of the night. You were just happy that Jean was visiting her parents and that she took Rachel with her because you aren’t sure if you’d have an explanation for your appearance other than the truth. 

“I have a feeling that I need to start packing extra clothes for our dates,” you tease as you look at Wanda. She shakes her head and pushes on your shoulder as she tells you to shut up. Then she stands and walks over to the downstairs restroom. She returns a few minutes later with a first aid kit. “What’s that for?” You ask dumbly. 

She sets down the kit and goes into the kitchen to fill a bowl with water and grab a rag. “You don’t feel that scratch on your forehead?” She asks as she walks back over. She sits on her coffee table in front of you as she wets the rag to use to wipe the dirt from your face. You shake your head with a frown. “Oh, well, you definitely cut yourself when you fell,” she says as she cleans the area and reveals the injury in full. “So much for secrecy, you’re going to be dealing with question after question until this is healed.” Her touch is so soft and gentle, it causes a warmth to spread through your chest as she takes care of you. 

“Eh, I’ll say I ran into a wall or something. People are pretty used to me being banged up,” you say as you try not to move too much while you watch Wanda focus on cleaning the scratch. The corner of her mouth lifts up in a small smile before dropping as her eyebrows crease in concentration. You don’t interrupt her as she works on you. But once she is done, you pull her in for a deep kiss. “Marry me,” you say in a mostly joking tone. 

Wanda rolls her eyes, “Don’t get ahead of yourself.” She has a grin on her face the entire time then kisses you again.

Chapter 23

Taglist: @princessprudy @sayah13 @agaymilflover @awkwardmandalorian @bentleywolf29 @thatshyboy1998 @artisannat @thisischaismagic @wqndanat @madamevirgo @likefirenrain @tearsofglitter @feltlikethat @the-writer-arcane @natashasilverfox @karsonromanoff @aloneodi @lovelyy-moonlight @red1culous @jovialsublimecomputer @natasha-maximoff @iliketozoneout @doudouneverte @druggedduck @diealittlesometime @when-wolves-howl @lifespectator @justyourwritter69 @wandaromamoff69 @awesomelygayasf @nekoannie-chan @diaryoflife @wuwu96 @wandanats-goodgirl @sincerely-indi @blueredg52 @sisiofthemultifandom @fuzzyuniversityeclipsefriend @arcturusseer @scarlettwidow34 @chasethemoon @raven-ss @canyonyodeler @sokovianbaby @alexawynters @bittysworld @hopeless-romantic17177 @spongebobtentacles @the-ox-fan20 @shaniiwm @casualreadersstuff @neopolitan-torchwick

[assortedgoods123]

Severus Snape x chatty!reader Soulmate AU

Writers block with stardew valley stuff so im trying something totally different to shake the cobwebs loose

do ppl still need to say they dont fuck with jkr or is it a given at this point? (genuine question)

*meet-cute!!!*

*this reader has titties and gender neutral pronouns*

Walking quickly, your eyes are glued to your phone as you round the corner of a street in London. You are already running late for a meeting but you absolutely refuse to deal with your coworker's bullshit without something caffeinated in your hands.

Just as you are about to look up and find the entrance to the cafe you frequent, you slam into something. You squeak out a nervous gasp when you realize it wasn't a lamp post, but a person.

"Ohmygosh I am so so so sorry!" You say, frantically digging in your bag for your horde of cocktail napkins. Your eyes flit nervously over the stranger, realizing you're both covered in his drink order. Dabbing at his torso with your little napkins, his silence makes you about a thousand times more anxious.

"I really am so so sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going, it's totally my fault." You stammer out, glancing at up at his face while you pat pat pat his chest with your napkins.

Your poor little heart, already beating like a hummingbird in your chest, leaps into your throat at the sight of the hottest fucking guy you've ever seen in your life. The kind of hottie you would chase down the street to throw yourself at. You've done very embarrassing things to get a chance to know people who are far less good-looking than this man in front of you now. And because you were too preoccupied with your phone, you're almost certain you won't be walking away with his number.

And he's frozen, staring at you with a weird look on his face. Definitely the worst first impression you could have possibly made.

Never one for fits of grace, you frown and say, "People as attractive as you should come with an escape lever." You throw the soggy napkins in the trash nearby and add, "I hate embarrassing myself in front of hot people."

Still not getting a response, you turn and look up at him. "You gonna say anything handsome?"

-

Severus Snape has never been rendered this speechless in his entire life.

The day the courts ruled him not guilty enough for Azkaban was certainly shocking, but even that paled in comparison to what he was experiencing now.

He was leaving his favorite coffee shop when he bumped into a muggle. People are clumsy, it happens. But then, instead of apologizing and running away from the tall scary man, they started talking to him. The sweetest, softest voice Severus had ever heard, telling him he's... hot. Attractive. Handsome.

Every single time anyone has ever shown interest in him in public, Severus has immediately and viciously shut them down. Far better to come across as an asshole upfront than to be humiliated and heartbroken later.

But now, he had this sweet little muggle running their warm hands all over his chest in a matter of seconds. Before he could snarl at them to back off, he looked down and, well.

What was already a very low-cut top was now soaked with tea, becoming slightly translucent. Half of Severus was now laser-focused on the stretch of the damp fabric over your tits, while the other half was screaming at him to get a hold of himself.

You asked him a question, he realizes. Jerking his head around to face you properly, he blurts out, "Huh?"

Oh he's doomed, he thinks.

-

You gasp and grab his arm, "Oh no I'm already so late I need to go right now but listen, here's a bit of money to buy yourself a new drink it's the least I can do I'm so so sorry for running into you and dashing away but I really am late it was nice to meet you bye!"

Hustling away, you sigh and hope you run into him again. Such a shame you couldn't stay and flirt longer. Checking your watch, you growl and break into a jog. Fuck this day, you think.

-

"Fuck this day" Severus mutters, before heading down an alley to dissipate home. Just like him to meet someone who actually thinks he's attractive only for them to be so late they have to literally run.

It was only a fraction of a moment, but Severus knows it'll be the thing keeping him from falling down a pit of despair some nights.

Hating himself as he does it, he sniffs the money you handed him. It smells like your perfume. He sets it aside on his dresser.

Pathetic virgin, he thinks.

Later that night, however, he wakes with a gasp. "Idiot idiot idiot!" He snarls, yanking the covers away from himself. "You were so focused on them you forgot to check your soul mark" He glowers at himself in the mirror before lifting his tongue. There, on the underside, is a swirl unique to him and his soulmate.

His heart skips a beat when he sees it glitter in the dingy bathroom lighting. It's activated. And the only people he spoke to yesterday were you and the exhausted-looking barista.

He thinks of the look on your face when you saw him, how you pouted so cutely when you threw the napkins away. The way your clothes stretched over your body.

I've gone mad, he thinks, as he throws on some clothes and dissipates to an alley in London.

-

I am literally insane, you think.

You've been sitting on a bench outside the coffee shop you almost went in yesterday for about half an hour now. It's too early for anyone else to be up and about yet, it's about 3 in the morning. You woke up last night realizing you didn't check your soul mark after meeting that stupidly hot guy. Sure enough, it was activated.

You twist your fingers anxiously, hoping and hoping that he will show up eventually. You'll be so sad if it's not him.

Suddenly, you hear an odd noise in a nearby alley. Nervously, you run your hands along your pepper spray.

Turning your head to look, you see him. Disheveled and breathing heavy, he locks eyes with you and storms over.

Feeling slightly lightheaded, you rush towards him and lift your tongue up so he can see. Tears of happiness and overwhelm run down your face when he nods and shows you his activated mark.

"Can I...?" You open your arms, asking for a hug.

Hesitating, he steps into your embrace, standing like a stiff board while you sniffle into his shirt and squeeze him tight.

You have a good feeling about this.

(not sure how to end it so ill call it here 🤗)

[the-modern-typewriter]

ah, could you write something about a vampire x mortal who always reincarnates

The vampire recognised the scent of them immediately. Part of them thought it might be wishful thinking. The other part burned with thirst and longing and too many raw things for any one person - supposedly soulless vampire or not - to cope with.

If they needed to breathe, they would have been breathless.

It wasn't them.

It couldn't be them.

"Jesus," they heard their lovely and inexplicable love murmur. "What have they done to you?!"

The sounds of the world grew a little louder as the human began to tear down the wall around them, inch by cold and concrete inch. The vampire felt like they had been trapped for a very long time.

(They suspected that they might have been trapped for a very long time).

The sound of that blood, that impossibly familiar blood, roared in their ears. A heartbeat. A lifeline. A hangman's noose.

"Don't." The words were inaudible with disuse. The whisper of cracked plaster and old bones long since desiccated.

Cool air caressed the hollow of the vampire's throat as that part of the wall was shattered through first. The vampire couldn't see them straight away, there was only the agony of hope. Glimpses.

Their love had a new haircut - something of the contemporary style, perhaps? Their eyes were so much older than their face. Their lips were pressed in a harsh, trembling, utterly livid line.

Was it truly them?

Their love looked like a strange memory, not quite accurate to the version that the vampire knew. Different. The same. Younger?

The vampire tumbled out of their broken cage less like a deadly immortal apex predator and more like a Jenga tower made out of soggy potato wedges.

The human caught them, cradled them close, pressing frantic kisses atop their no-doubt horribly greasy hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner," the human said. "I thought you were dead. If I'd known - it's going to be okay now. You're going to be okay."

Maybe it was a hallucination.

Maybe the vampire had finally died.

That blood was so close, so enticing, a siren call that they were too pathetically weak to even reach for. They didn't feel like a living thing at all.

The vampire groaned.

"Blood." The human - the hallucination, the everything because if they were dead or hallucinating than at least the vampire got to see them again - blurted the word. "You need blood. Of course you need blood! You must be starving. Shit. Okay."

The kisses stopped crowning their head.

It was possible that hallucinations were supposed to hurt less.

The scent of blood grew stronger. Something was pressed against the vampire's mouth and -

They drank.

When the vampire came to themselves again, they had only the vaguest memory of stumbling out of the tunnels and into the inky night. The human's arm was warm and secure around them. There was a bed. Soft sheets. Fresh air. A growing strength returning to their body.

The room around them was clear. The human sitting by the bed was undoubtedly there, but still impossible. Still some miracle.

"You look a lot less dead now," the human said, apparently making a remarkable effort to keep their voice light. "That's good. Dead doesn't suit you."

"You died." The vampire had processed the grief for years, as if such loss could be neatly packaged and boxed away like a vampire feral with mourning.

"I came back. I didn't realise you had too."

"You're..." The vampire's brow furrowed. They sat up, slow and careful lest they terrify their definitely not a vampire but not quite mortal love.

"And you're a vampire," the human said. "Wow. When did that happen?"

"Shortly after you died. You died."

"Sorry. I didn't do it on purpose."

They stared at each other, disbelieving and so crippled by relief that it left them both shy and faltering.

What did one say to the reincarnated version of someone they had loved more than anything? What did one say to a blood-thirsty monster who had spent the last decade or so entombed in a wall?

It felt somewhere between a second chance, beautiful and shining and everything that they had ever wanted...and an utterly sick joke.

The vampire wanted to kiss them.

"And you're back," the vampire said.

"And you're a vampire."

"I didn't do it on purpose." They would never have chosen an eternity without their love on purpose and yet...there they sat. The vampire was glad that they didn't have to blink, didn't have to tear their attention away for even a millisecond.

Their hand twitched on the bedsheet. They were abruptly aware that a long chain connected their wrist to the headboard.

Their love coloured. "I wasn't sure if you'd try and eat me again. You weren't...you weren't quite yourself."

"It's okay."

"It's not okay. What they did to you - if I hadn't come back - if I'd found you sooner -" It was so like them that it had to be real, and so the vampire had to smile.

"It's okay," they said. "You're back. You found me."

Everything would be okay because they were there.

The moment after that, the two of them were clinging to each other like they were clutching for the last life boat off the Titanic.

Everything was going to be okay.

"God," the human mumbled into their neck, "I missed you. I thought I was - I thought I was alone. I thought you were gone."

"Never." The vampire kissed them, then, claiming and tender. "I'll never be gone again. I'll wait for you forever."

Their mortal would never wake up with that shattering grief again.

The vampire grew used to the exquisite pleasure-pain of the reincarnation cycles after that.

[billyshakesp]

If I had a nickel for every time two lesbians got into a fight after one of them tried to commandeer a futuristic ship, and one of the lesbians was a dumb idiot jock with a good heart who does not remember her past, only that she came from some distant place in deep space, and the dumb idiot jock lesbian was raised by an old-ass woman with scars completely covering her face, and she has a sword which serves as her weapon and her hand and possibly her cuddly toy, and the one of the lesbians was an evil genius who is also an idiot, but only when it comes to feelings, and has trauma as deep and dark as the chasm she was raised in (which is very deep, and very dark!), and harbours the world's saddest, most all-encompassing crush on the dumb idiot jock lesbian which everyone, quite literally everyone knows about except for her, gasp for air–

And the lesbians get really angee at each other, so they other friends, and the DIJL (take a wild guess as to what that stands for) makes friends with a bunch of really kind and really powerful people, and the idiot is confused because she never felt this "love" thing before, and the evil genius/sapphic mess befriends a dude (gender-neutral) who sold their innocence and childhood to the devil for books! (relatable)–and that person is a genius with the social aptitude of a cantaloupe, except later we find that they actually do know what's going on around them, they're just so deeply incredibly nerdy that no one notices that they are totally badass and will fuck you up, deep inhale–

And then the lesbians attend a formal event where they are friends with sexual tension for a bit, and then they go back to being angee until, Oh no!–the world is now Weirdmaggedon, which results in the death of an actually mature adult woman who we thought didn't have issues, but actually is deeply fucked up inside, and the idiot lesbian has to stop the apocalypse, but this only further increases the rift between the two, but then the evil genius/soft whimpering mess is lifted into space, away from the love-of-her-life-whom-she-doesn't-even-know-she-likes-but-would-actually-fall-on-an-iron-spike-for, but she would actually prefer said spike over ever coming to terms with her feelings, and the evil genius now works with an intergalactic super-empire which rules the observable universe, but she has hallucinations from her childhood (if you could call it that), and she then realises that, shit, I'm just maybe a little bit of a soft, sad, hopeless disaster for one dude (gender neutral) waving a sword around, dramatic gulp for air–

Meanwhile said lesbian with a sword finds out that she is only one piece in a grand plot to harness the ambient energy of her planet, a plan which has been stewing for actual millennia at this point, and it turns out that she's been systematically lied to by the people around her, which makes her big mad, so she starts thwacking her sword at the weird, vaguely animal-looking soldiers sent down by an unfathomably powerful space monster, wheeze–

Meanwhile meanwhile in space, the evil genius/soggy kitten (figurative and literal) actually finds out that oh, it's not actually normal that every time she sees the idiot lesbian, she gets the overwhelming urge to spit in the idiot's face, then lick it off, because bbygirl is disturbed and affection is difficult, okay?–so she almost, almost properly reunites with the other lesbian, but then our hearts are once again torn, still beating, from our ribcage and impaled with a rusty iron spke when, oh no! they have to save the world again...

Meanwhile meanwhile meanwhile in a far-off planet the smart one, their bestie, and another person with a weird gender situation work to raise their family and kill god.

I would have two nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

[ciitroner]

Cabin In The Woods: and the consequences of your actions

Kidnapper!Ghost x Reader x Kidnapper!Soap

PART 3 OF THE KIDNAP!AU BACKSTORY SERIES, part 1, part 2.

ROUGH DAY (main story)

Summary: Never did you once believe that the seemingly abandoned cabin you stumbled across after an accident on your hike would belong to two men you once met at a bar. You wish you'd listened to your gut feeling about them...

Warnings: 18+ (MDNI), afab!reader, kidnapping, oral sex, NON-CON, blowjob, DARK FIC, creepy/pervy behaviour, toxic behaviour, somnophilia? (not really, but you were about to drift to sleep), dacryphilia, humiliation, mention of stalking, slight violence, manipulation, hair pulling, fingering, you get hurt in the process of the hike

Notes: This took way too long, I deleted a few drafts before I said fuck it and settled with this one. Ok mwah enjoy Wc: 4.9k

The evening sun, accompanied by the small occasional breeze carefully, yet harshly, caresses your tired body. Your frame hangs low as if you had not slept in years, your eyebags complimenting the appearance. One after the other, with a shaking huff and a puff, you lift your legs to strive forward. To where - you had yet to discover. You had lost your hiking trail and were now only hoping for a helping sign, although to no avail. Your friend, whose house you were staying at, at the moment, had suggested that you enjoy the forest and nature instead of… well, sulking at home over not getting a job. It was a good idea at the time, and you had promised her to take a lot of beautiful photos that both of you could sigh happily about later on. The only problem is, that you’ve never gone on a hiking trip before, and suddenly being thrown into the worst situation you could currently think of- fuelled your hate for nature. No signal, and an almost dead phone did you no good.

With every rise of angriness and anxiousness over the setting sun, you find the strength to go deeper into the forest - maybe not the greatest idea, but you are so very sure that the hiking trail was around that area… probably… hopefully. You feel a droplet hit your nose, pulling you out of your thought process. How lovely! The bad situation became even worse. It’s slowly but surely getting colder, and what was once only a few drops of rain had turned into a heavy downpour. You could barely see your surroundings, but at least you don’t have to worry about water, you laugh miserably to yourself while you resume walking - as standing in the middle of nowhere would get you… nowhere. The forest ground is wet and slippery, forcing a few gasps and yelps out of you when you lose your balance from time to time. You’re cold, wet, muddy and grumpy after a few stumbles when the first flash of lightning lights up the dark sky, and not very much later - you hear the sharp sound.

“Ah… shit.” You’d have to find shelter as soon as possible, as being surrounded by trees wasn’t ideal in a full-blown thunderstorm.

The slow, hunched walking evolves into jogging in fear when the next bolt of lightning hits somewhere close. Something, most likely a root, knocks you down on your knees as you trip over it. Barely hearing your groan over the loud pitter-patter of the rain, you get up again - and you’d guess your knees were scraped bloody through your pants due to every fall - though, this one was significantly harsh. Your soggy clothing and annoying backpack weigh down on you, not much unlike the anxiousness of getting lost and eaten by wolves - and holding back tears is the only thing you feel like you have control over at the moment. Gasping for breath, you push through a dense thicket, the rain soaking every inch of your being and thorns grabbing onto the poor excuse of clothes you’re wearing. The forest seems to close in around you, and bile rises in your throat - which you have to force down with a gulp. The eerie creaking of branches, the rustling of unseen animals… creatures, the horrible sound of lightning and the relentless downpour create a symphony of discomfort - nonetheless, you push through the labyrinth of nightmares.

Each step forward is a struggle, and being unable to see what’s in front of you awakens a cruel twist of fate as it sends you tumbling down a steep part of the mountain. The world becomes a blur of mud, rocks and undeniable hurt as you desperately claw at anything within reach - attempting to halt your rapid descent. Time seems to slow down, and the echoes of your terrified screams mix with the howling wind until everything goes dark.

With a shocked and pained gasp, you awaken. God knows how long you’ve been out cold - but it mustn’t have been too long, as the world around you is still dark, and the storm continues its wrath, indifferent to your plight.  Pain radiates through your body as you lay there, dazed and battered. You must’ve hit your head, making you pass out, you conclude after a horrible headache crashes down on you. Your hands hurt and so does a part of your lip, you could only guess that it had been injured in the accident. Grimacing, you manage to push yourself upright - letting out pained ah’s and oh’s when you have to balance your body on your hands to get up. Your backpack is still in its place - you realise, and you’re thankful as it could have dampened the fall. You stay standing still for a while, just… appreciating life, thankful you’re still alive. You put your hands in your pockets to preserve the warmth when you realise that your phone is gone, and you realise it's worthless to try and look around if you don’t want to fall somewhere again - as horrible as it was, your life was a bit more important.

As you’re turning around to take a new path, hopefully bringing you some place higher up where you could scream for help during the day, something catches your eye. With a squint of your tired eyes, you notice a cabin in the far distance. You realise it’s not a trick of your exhausted mind and that there indeed is a cabin nearby, nestled within the shadows of the towering trees - and like the most cliché horror character, you’re not taking a chance, limping forward towards the entrance. The cabin emerges from the darkness, its outline becoming clearer as you draw near. It looks old and slightly ugly, you notice - the chair and table on the front porch most likely have been broken and fallen over due to the relentless storm and many more.

With a deep breath, you approach the creaking door. You decide that it’s better to be potentially breaking into the cabin than to be left standing outside in dangerous weather conditions. You pull down the handle, and you’re relieved when it opens. The interior of the cabin gives a special charm of itself - as if time had paused within its walls - and you’re thankful that the shelter you had found for yourself had a good roof, not letting any drops of water slip by. The air is thick with the scent of aged wood and dust. Pretty - but basic, furniture is arranged sporadically as if the owner only had put them there to… put them there. You notice a lamp over a kitchen table with two seats and realise that there might be a chance that the electricity still works, you could only hope. Quickly closing the door behind you, you take on the job of grazing the walls with your sore fingertips, for a sign of the light switch. You mutter an apology to the absent owner when you spread mud and water over the floor in your search, and promise yourself to clean it afterwards, “Aha!”

It takes around ten seconds before the light starts flickering before staying lit. You’re careful to avoid the rugs - some normal, and other animal pelts - when you search for other light switches, as you didn’t want to stay in the dark for any longer. When you’d get home… if you got home, you’d give your friend two slaps on each cheek before giving her a long hug and cry into her shoulder. Then you’d research every how-to on hiking there is, even though you’d never go again - it’s good to know. The occasional gust of wind through a window, incapable of being fully closed, makes the dust dance in the air and you cough.

There’s a fireplace in front of the sofa, surrounded by a bit larger stones, with a flat-screen TV resting on the mantel above the fireplace. You’re cold, and the only thing on your mind is a shower and a hot drink - but you shake your head and explore further, setting down your large backpack close to the entrance. You’d have to take out your things to examine what’s wet and what’s not later - even though you took a waterproof bag (thank god for your friend’s boyfriend), you don’t know if your things were safe from the horrid weather and fall. It’s a two-floor, cosy cabin - the upstairs area consists of a balcony and a bedroom. The windows, though framed by large heavy curtains, allow glimpses of the storm outside, and the flickering bedside lamp you’ve turned on allows you to see the dust gathered on the wooden frames of the bed, and a few flies that had died. The downstairs area consists of the living room, kitchen, and surprisingly clean bathroom - aside from the dust, there is no sign of mould nor any horror film yellowish-bathroom colour anywhere in the sink. You sigh in happiness and pray to whatever entity that had let you live the fall down the mountain that the hot water still works.

The owner might not have visited for a while, and you can only hope that they don’t feel like coming during the few hours- or days, you might be here. The wooden floor creaks under your every step when you walk over to pick up your backpack and settle it down on the kitchen table - obviously after dusting it down with a feather duster you had found in a corner. You needed a change of clothes as soon as possible if you didn't want to get sick - and thus, you unzip it and uncover a carefully wrapped bundle of spare clothes. The previous overthinking, while you had packed your bag, pays off as you take out another pair of underwear, shampoo and some warmer sweats. Luckily, as it was packed at the bottom - it hadn’t become wet, unlike your equipment at the top. You walk to the bathroom and put your clothes down on the counter connected to the basin.

You turn on the water in the bathtub, and let it run while the gentle hum of the electricity powers a small heater. You undress and look at yourself in the mirror, horrifying - you conclude. Steam begins to rise, and you slide the curtain to the side and walk in, sighing as the too-warm water almost boils your skin off - as it should. You made a mental note to remember the fireplace afterwards before you begin washing yourself, scrubbing the dirt and grime off of your body. The scent of your shampoo fills your lungs, and you smile to yourself.

After a long time, you emerge from the shower, wrapped in a dry towel, and feel a renewed sense of vitality. You slip into the fresh, clean clothes - a stark contrast to the dampness and discomfort that defined your… adventure thus far.

You towel dry your hair before leaving the towel to dry on the bathtub curtain rack along with your previous clothes - abandoning your shoes for a pair of warm fuzzy socks you had brought with you, wearing them with a pair of slippers you’d found. Although a few sizes too big, you cringed at the thought of walking on the dust and dead-flies-filled floor. The cabin was creepy, and the occasional flickering of light paired with the storm outside made you take no chances - so in case a monster of some sort came up behind you, at least you could hit it with a slipper. You shrug.

You bring out a vacuum cleaner and plug it into an outlet in the kitchen before cleaning the cabin, making it a more comfortable place - you were especially careful not to leave any dust particles around the fireplace, as it's highly flammable. You decide to clean upstairs as well, fixing the bed in slight sympathy for the owner, before arranging the logs in the fireplace - creating a carefully crafted pyramid you’re frankly proud of. A small box of matches rests on the mantel, and thankfully there are a few left. You strike a match, the flame dancing briefly before settling into a steady glow, and carefully touch the match to the kindling. The flames grow, licking at the wood and bringing the living room area to life.

You’d brought a few - now soggy, although still edible - snacks with you. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to keep your stomach satisfied for at least a day or two. A breeze from the broken window made you shiver and stay closer to the fire, it was still dark outside, but the rain had calmed down by now and would probably come to a full stop in a few hours. You eat a few protein bars, before falling asleep on the sofa - not being able to turn the television on, as you had no energy to search for the remote control. Dangerous, yes, but it seems like your bad luck had run out as you awaken in the morning (or afternoon, you had no idea - as the only clock in the house had stopped working) with a fully intact cabin and now only a small sad fire in the fireplace. It’s sunny outside, thankfully - and you quickly wash your dirty clothes in the bathtub before hanging them outside on a clothesline. You grimace at the sight of your shoes, it would take at least a few sunny days to dry them fully - even though you almost turn them fully inside out. You walk back inside again, to get yourself some food.

“Hey!”

You let out a shrill scream at the unsuspected voice behind you, and you quickly turn around - cursing as you stumble because of the big slippers on your feet. He’s big, the man. Owner, you presume, inspecting him with wide eyes. He has a large balaclava with a skull print on it, and you can’t help but feel like you’ve seen it before. His gaze is cold, and there’s a certain standoffishness to his demeanour.

“Didn’t mean to startle you,” he apologizes, half-heartedly you assume by the hint of amusement and lack of warmth in his tone. His gaze assesses you, not unkindly, but with a detached scrutiny that makes you uneasy. He kicks his boots off by the front door, leaving it ajar, before setting down four full bags on the table you’d kept your backpack - before moving it to the sofa while you snacked yesterday. Your accelerated breathing and heart rate calm a bit when you realise that he doesn’t have any will to hurt you for breaking into his cabin at the moment, you feel the need to excuse your actions.

“It’s okay, it’s been q-quite a night,” you gulp, throat dry, “found your cabin while I was lost due to the storm.”

His response is a nonchalant nod. “Make yourself at home,” he responds, voice authoritative - making the suggestion almost sound like a command. It holds a distance that almost seems intentional. He takes in his surroundings and notices how clean it is, unusual to what it would normally be like after not visiting for almost months at a time. “I… I cleaned,” you announce with a cough, getting up from the floor feeling like an idiot. He seems indifferent, as if your actions hold little significance to him, “I can see that.”

He opens cabinets and slowly but steadily empties the bags, most of it is food, and other things include batteries, you notice. You feel awkward standing while he does the work, “d-do you-”

“Name’s Ghost,” he states abruptly, cutting you off mid-sentence, and not bothering to extend a handshake or any other friendly gesture - continuing to store the items in their places. The introduction hangs in the air, the conversation feeling more obligatory than welcoming. You take off his slippers - and he seems to track your movements through the corner of his eye - before offering your own name. He lets out a short hum, and there’s that. It doesn’t lead anywhere, and you’re both left in silence before the front door opens once more. The sudden footsteps behind you startle you, and you turn around to find another man there.

“Did ye hang those rags outside- oh,” the man notices you and raises his dark eyebrows, “didn’t expect tae see anyone here,” he greets with an accent, although somewhat confused, his tone is friendly and warm - rivalling against Ghost’s composed and cold behaviour. Ghost offers the man a subtle nod in his direction, acknowledging his presence without uttering a single word.

“I was on a hike, got lost and sought shelter from the storm here…” you quickly explain yourself, fiddling with your fingers behind your back in anxiousness of being stared down by two large men. The man continues your conversation while Ghost neatly folds the plastic bags before putting them in a box somewhere in the corner.

“Nae bother,” he drops your name and your ears perk up, eyebrows furrowing in shock. He speaks with a grin as if nothing weird had happened at all. He takes off his boots before joining Ghost in the kitchen - muttering something about teabags. “Thanks for gien’ the place a tidy up.” You ignore his thankfulness.                  

“How do you know my name?” you ask, a tinge of uncertainty layering your words. The man’s grin widens, “we met at the bar, ‘bout a month ago. We had a good time, tad bit too much on the bevvy, though.”

“Ah… Soap?”

“Aye.” He almost vividly describes the details of your… not so much conversation, reminding you of a night when you were perhaps a bit too inebriated to recall much. You have to shush him after a moment, and he cackles at your embarrassed face.

You find it odd that Soap remembers everything so clearly - especially since it’s been a month, while your memories from that night are only flickering fragments. The realization that he has been holding onto these details gets you uncomfortable.

“Ye like yer tea wi’ a wee smidgen of sugar, aye lassie?”

It’s as if he has been meticulously collecting pieces of your life. Despite the peculiar circumstances, Soap continues to engage in casual - slightly one-sided - conversation, seemingly oblivious to the unease settling within you. The sun shines bright through the window close to the table, where Soap is now ushering you towards. You shake your head.

“I… I think I should go home,” you utter tentatively, voicing the sudden urge that has gripped you. Ghost’s gaze, still concealed behind the balaclava, remains unreadable - though the air surrounding him seems to thicken. Soap, his charm momentarily faltering, raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Leaving… so soon?” he questions, friendly demeanour momentarily slipping into an expression of perplexity - leaving you with goosebumps. He leans casually against a wall, as if waiting for your explanation.

“It’s just… I don’t know. These past hours have been a bit,” you wave your hands around, wanting to find the right words, “too much,” you stammer, struggling to articulate your urgency to leave. Soap’s grin returns, but there’s a subtle shift in his gaze, “we’ve got everything ye need right here. Naw need tae go,” he voices with a friendly tone that contradicts the unease in your gut. He places a warm cup of tea in front of you, setting you down on a seat, before sitting on the chair in front of you with a cup of his own. Ghost, still a silent observer - now also with a cup - stands beside Soap, not much unlike a bodyguard.

“Ye’ve been through so much… take a day or two’s rest here before you leave.” It’s voiced almost like a demand. “I guess,” you sip on the tea - silently cursing Soap because he made it just the way you like it. Soap relaxes against the wooden chair and Ghost moves slightly away from your eyesight - before lighting his balaclava to drink.

That was your third and last mistake.

“Love the hustle and bustle o’ the city, but sometimes, a quiet place like this feels like a different world, aye?” Soap shares, a lopsided grin on his face. “I guess,” you repeat. It had been a nightmare, really. You’d never go out again after this.

“Especially since we’ve now got an Angel sent from heaven, now.”

“I- I guess,” you would be a bit more creeped out if he wasn’t exactly your type. You’re both attracted to each other, it seems like. Awful situation.

You continue chatting, Ghost quipping in with small jokes occasionally - and you laugh. The tension in the air slowly disappears, and soon enough - when the tea cups are empty, Ghost drags his mask over his jaw again, hiding anything but his eyes. He gets a stool and settles down next to Soap. You’re thankful they’re being nice hosts.

“Soap-”

“Johnny,” he cuts you off, “he’s Simon. No need for call signs.”

“Ah… Johnny,” you begin, and swear that you see him shudder slightly, “where do you keep your plasters? My knees-” he cuts you off, “hurt in the storm, yeah? Lt will show ye.”

Simon, without uttering a word, motions for you to follow him. Johnny stays in the kitchen, mumbling something about dinner, had it been that long? He leads you to the bedroom to your surprise, you’d guess they’d kept them in the bathroom… but alright. The silence in the air is thick, only broken by the occasional creak of wood under your feet as you climb the stairs. The flickering poor bulb on the ceiling sparks to life when he turns it on, and he gestures towards the bed.

“Take your clothes off.”

“W-what?”

Simon doesn’t repeat himself, doesn’t even glance at you as he walks to the bedside table and rummages around, before getting up and leaving the room. You decide to strip, not wanting him to stare at you while you do it, at least. You take off both your shirt and pants, leaving you in your underwear when Simon returns to you with a damp cloth and a few plasters. “We need to clean the wound before applying the plasters.” He deadpans as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. You hesitantly nod, feeling way too naked.

“Have you done this before?” you ask dumbly, “i-is it a part of… your job, or something?”

“Sometimes.” He kneels between your legs, and you hiss when he starts to almost expertly wipe at your knees. He doesn’t stop for your cries, focus unwavering and trying to get it over as quickly as possible. You recall Johnny calling Simon “lieutenant”, and you guess their line of work was military. He carefully places plasters on the scraped areas once he finishes cleaning the wounds. He throws you out of your thought process when he sits beside you, towering over your vulnerable body, “elbow” is the only thing he says before lifting your arm. You two sit in silence as he works, his touch is surprisingly gentle, despite the lack of expression on his face - and the whole process feels clinical, as if he’s merely completing a necessary task.

“You’re lucky it’s not more serious,” he finally speaks, placing a warm hand on the back of your neck, squeezing slightly and breaking the quiet tension looming over you both. His words are cold, his voice deep, and you find yourself longing for the warmth and friendliness that Johnny had exhibited earlier. The hand stays for a bit too long before he gets up. As you put your clothes back on, Simon exits the room without a word, leaving you alone with your thoughts. You can hear the distant sounds of Johnny’s clinks and clanks in the kitchen. Descending the stairs, the delicious smell of food fills your lungs, and you’re so hungry - you realise.

“Feelin’ better, bonnie?” Johnny asks as he places three plates of food on the table. You nod, sitting down in your previous seat. It’s a simple microwavable dinner, but you almost drool. Simon sets down a wine glass in front of you all and Johnny brings a bottle, “to relax, aye?” he winks. You could use a glass of wine, to be honest, and so you let him fill your glass.

The three of you sit down to eat, and the conversation flows more naturally this time. Johnny, though still eccentric, appears to have softened his demeanour, engaging you in discussions about various topics. You find yourself laughing at some things you normally wouldn’t, you blame it on the wine and stress. As the night progresses, they suggest you take the bed - to which you reply that you can’t- won’t

“Can’t let you sleep on the sofa!” you exclaim.

“Who said anything about a sofa?” Simon shrugs. You brushed it off and assumed they had a guest room somewhere you could borrow, you were naive, you realise, now. Because that’s how you end up between them in their bed. To preserve heat in this cold climate, Johnny had said, plays with your sense of logic like a puppeteer.

At some point, he’d started touching you a bit inappropriately, and when you’d turned around to cuss him out - he’d latched his mouth to yours. Simon lies on his side, facing you two - yet not moving a muscle to help you at all. Between filthy and sloppy kisses, you manage out a “What the FUCK do you think you’re doing, Johnny!” to which he only responds with a shaky moan and rubs his growing hard-on into your thigh, “fuckin’ loooove when ye sae m’ name. Gets me so hard, lovie.”

He stops shoving his tongue down your throat to instead lick a stripe down to your neck, where he starts sucking hot open-mouth kisses into your skin. You let out a quivery breath, closing your eyes to not see the drooling man hunched over your body - the imprint of his dick tight against his jeans. You remember cumming on your vibrator to the thought of it a month back, but now you’d do anything to run away from it. A slap on your cheek brings you back to reality, the skin almost burns and tears prickle in your eyes. Simon is staring you down, while Johnny raises his body just enough to almost rip his t-shirt off of himself.

“Keep your eyes open.” It’s a demand, a scary one at that. Military men are, in theory, hot, but in practice… still hot but also terrifying. He brings his calloused fingertips to gently stroke the cheek, before gripping both of your cheeks until your lips pout and your face aches. Johnny grins crookedly, bends down and gives you an almost cute kiss before yelling “ass up!” Your body almost flies down the bed with the force he drags your pants and panties off of you, and you let out a squeal which both of the men laugh at, “P-please, I can… I can give you money” you beg through your pouty lips and make them laugh harder, “sure,” Johnny comments, “got naw money to pay rent, how are ye supposed to pay us?”

“How,” your mouth hurts, “how do you-”

Simon releases his grip on your face and moves to pet your hair.

“So talkative. Take her mouth, Johnny.”

The man almost flies up to sit next to your head, pubic hair rubbing against your cheek when he drags his leaking cock over your lips. He’s big, awfully so, and he knows it because he pulls at your chin until you open it reluctantly, “nice ‘n wide now, sae ahhh,” then sinks in. The moan he lets out almost makes you rub your thighs together, it’s filthy and pornographic, and only intensifies when you swallow around him in an attempt to not puke up the dinner you’d shared with them. Simon smacks your thigh, which makes you avert your wet eyes from Johnny to him. He continues petting your hair while his other hand simultaneously moves downwards to your pussy, body easily moving in between your legs to make it difficult for you to close them. His middle and ring fingers spread your flaps apart and tease at your hole before dragging them upwards and collecting your juices. You fight but fail the loud moan that escapes your mouth, “Y-yeah just like that- fuck…” Johnny rambles on.

It’s embarrassing, and you have to hold back from crying when you see how wet you are. Simon gladly spreads his fingers to show off, before wiping them off on Johnny’s balls, making his breath hitch, and his next thrust a bit harsher. With the hand on your head, which has since long stopped stroking, he wraps his fingers in your hair suddenly and pulls you slightly upwards. Tears trickle down your cheeks, and your sobs only rile the man in your mouth up even more. Simon gets closer to your face, almost rips your hair off of your skull and moves his still-wet fingers down to your clit, rubs painfully - almost past the point of pleasure.

“You, are never leaving.”

[gabessquishytum]

The Endless family are nothing, if not the most horrible of people. They don't care who/what they hurt to lord it over people.

Morpheus tries to have as little to do with his adoptive family (he along with a number of his other siblings were foundlings) as possible, but the family still own his apartment building and probably have found a sneaky underhanded way to have a stake in his fledgling art career. This is part of the reason he appeared when summoned to the most recent family dinner/shitty people party.

For some yet undisclosed reason, Morpheus parents were particularly smug about whatever was going to happen at the party - he just hopes it's not overt and open criming, he doesn't really want to be pressed into hiding bodies and depending on how long it takes to get to whatever their "surprise" is, Morpheus will have to stay at the party for longer than he would ever want.

The surprise is wheeled out, in a giant tank -- a captured male merperson. To Morpheus's eyes, he was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen - long brown hair flowing in the water, strong chest and arms flowing seamlessly down to a golden tail, shot through with warm browns, yellows and greens. Just the colors alone spoke to Morpheus's artist soul. He knew he could happily spend the rest of his life doing nothing but attempting to recreate this beauty.

And then he locked eyes with the angry brown eyes of what was obviously the rest of his existence,,,,,,,and Morpheus's soul mark burned.

Ahhhh this is so chilling!! I like the idea of Hob being beautiful but terrifying.

Of course Dream has to do something. So he asks to stay the night at his "parents" awful mansion. After midnight he sneaks down the damp basement where the huge tank has been stored. The merman is skulking around the bottom of the tank, and those brown-gold eyes glare out through the darkness. Dream can't stop himself from stepping forward and pressing the palm of his hand against the glass.

"Well." The merman says, sending bubbles shooting out to the surface of the tank. "How are you going to get me out of here?"

It turns into a proper mini heist. Dream recruits a team to get his soulmate out: his estranged adoptive brother Ollie, his youngest sister (who still lives at home, and can let them all into the mansion), a few sketchy friends he made at university (Matthew and Cori) and, bizarrely, the director of the gallery that shows his art. Gilbert may be older in years, but he is very good with a weapon.

They take an old bathtub that Matthew dug out of a skip to the mansion in Cori's truck. And then they lug the damn thing down to the basement. Hob looks distinctly unimpressed. But when Dream begs him to get in the bath, his fierce attitude softens. Muttering about dumb humans, he flops out from the top of the tank, into the bath - bringing plenty of water along with him.

Then they have to get him back up the stairs. Dream is not super helpful tbh, he's too fixated on Hob’s beautiful tail. And his eyes. And just everything, really. Thank goodness Ollie hits the gym regularly - they make it out of the mansion before dawn. Delirium gives Hob a big kiss on the cheek, and he gets all soft and mushy, giving her a soggy hug in return before they wave goodbye and get the hell out of there. They head for Gilbert's gallery (since its on the ground floor), where Hob's eyes get all big and shiny as he looks at Dream’s art.

What the hell do they do now? No doubt Dream’s parents will notice the missing merman. And Hob can't live in a bathtub forever. Maybe it's time for Dream to get the nice cottage by the sea that he's always fancied. The question is - will Hob want to hang around, when he's free to swim away?

The answer is a grumpy "yes". As long as Dream agrees to paint him. Which obviously isn't going to be an issue at all 😄

[transsongtaewon]

Myeongwoo was busily chopping away at cabbage. He found it rather dull, but at least he could appreciate the craftsmanship of the knife. It was very good knife, since he was the one who made it.

"Myeongwoo oppa?" Yerim stuck her head into the kitchen.

"Yes?" His focus didn't sway from the cabbage, fully cut now. He moved the piles into the salad spinner and set it in the sink.

"You and ahjussi are friends, right?"

He paused in his cabbage cleaning endeavour. "I'd like to think so."

Privately, he thought that 'friends' was putting it a bit lightly. He wouldn't cook three meals a day for someone who was just a friend. But he also couldn't say they were more than friends, necessarily.

"Why do you ask?"

What steps beyond 'friends' were there? Lovers, maybe. He inwardly recoiled. Definitely not that. Family? He didn't really care about his biological family and he didn't feel the need to put someone else in that spot, either.

"Just because." He couldn't see what Yerim was doing behind him, focused on his cabbage. "Do we have any leftovers?"

"I'm working on dinner right now." How long was he supposed to wash cabbage for? "You can check in the fridge if you want."

The door opened and she dug through the shelves. "Are friends usually as close as you and ahjussi?"

"Maybe. I don't know." It wasn't like Myeongwoo had extensive experience in the friendship department. It was entirely possible he was overthinking a regular, boring friendship. Well, not boring. He sometimes wished Yoojin was more boring, maybe then he would almost die less often.

"I mean, how long did you know each other before you wanted to move in with him?" By the sounds of it, she had located a box of pre-cooked ramyun noodles and was now eating them completely unseasoned. Teenagers.

"How long did you know each other before you made him your legal guardian?"

Her answer was muffled by noodles, but he was reasonably certain it was "Touché."

She did have a point. Everything including Yoojin had gone very fast. Myeongwoo knew why, but that didn't make it that much less odd. He definitely didn't mind it, of course. He just acknowledged it may look weird looking in from the outside.

"Myeongwoo oppa, did that cabbage to something bad?"

He was startled out of his thoughts. He really had washed it for too long. It had turned somewhat over-shredded and more than a bit soggy.

"Ah, I just got distracted. Thank you." He spun it to dry, as gently as possible. Which wasn't very, if he wanted to actually make use of the centrifugal forces, but at least he tried. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

"Nope! Call me when dinner is done!" She dropped her chopsticks and Tupperware in the dishwasher and left the kitchen as quickly as she had entered.

In the end it didn't really matter if he and Yoojin were friends or lovers or a secret third thing. They just cared about each other, deeply, and no one else had to understand what was between them. Maybe not even they themselves.

Myeongwoo started to wipe down the countertop to prepare it before moving on to cutting meat. Dinner would take a while yet.

Written for Sctir Pride Week Day 7: Friends

[marclef]

From what I’ve learnt from the fact about how much Fake Peppino hates water to the point where he’ll drink it to avoid having it on him… it got me thinking.

Let’s put this into a scenario here. Let’s say, hypothetically, someone where to take Fake Peppino and throw him into something like a pool, would it be possible that he’d attempt to consume all the water before it makes him go all goopy and loose his form? And that’s assuming he can actually swim…

AGAIN, a hypothetical scenario.

what a fun scenario... and wonderfully worded too! 😅

so, let's have a look-see at this hypothetical here, the way i see it there are two ways this could go!

the hypothetical though: SOMEBODY decides to be a jerk VERY rude and push this goopy fella into a big pool of water! obviously not ideal for Fakey.

now, the first direction it could go from here: usually, Fakey reserves trying to suck up any outside water if it's a smaller body, say falling into a puddle or being shoved into a bathtub. but, it's always possible he'd try it here, anything to stop the water from touching his sensitive outside skin! his insides are like a sponge though when it comes to liquids; they absorb very quickly, but it'll stay saturated in his skin for a while afterwards, until he dries or manages to fully convert it into goop.

but... an entire pool of water though... that's a lot of liquid.

and another fun fact, Fake Peppino hates being soggy. so now he's been shoved into a pool, panicked and drank a ton of water to save himself, and now he's wet and spongy...

he is not gonna be in the best of moods.

of course, that's only one of two ways this could go though! the other is much more simple....

that being, that it's way too much water to try that with. so the much more likely scenario that'll happen is simply this:

the well-known Fake Peppino Goop Pile. too much liquid and he can't even hold his form down! he won't dissolve in the water at least, just reduced to an extra-slimy, writhing blob of Goop. at which point he'd do everything he can to flee from the water, and start trying to find any way to dry off quicker.

how rude of somebody to push him into the water like that though; don't they know how uncomfortable being like this feels? at least there's one benefit to being a living pile of goo, and that's being able to smother the jerk who did this to you!

(haha, get GOOPED idiot 👆)

[bomberqueen17]

cellulitis adventures

So on Friday I was cleaning in the barn, hosing rotting meat out of a floor drain. I tripped over the hose, and fell on the hand holding the hose sprayer, in a pile of moldy rat shit I'd tried to clean earlier but hadn't done a great job on. The hose sprayer scraped my thumb, opening up a little cut and tearing the skin, which was annoying and hurt a lot.

Naturally I was like, listen I need to clean this really well, so I did. But I was busy, so I washed it really well and then didn't bandage it, because I had a lot more grubby shit to work on and a bandage would just get soggy. I cleaned it again when I was done, but still forgot to bandage it. it was not a serious cut, it was more of a scrape, and it hadn't really bled much, it was mostly just sort of scabbed over. Not a big deal.

Drove home to Buffalo on Saturday, and noticed it was a little sore, maybe a bit puffy. Ah, not great. I cleaned it again, put neosporin on it this time. Went to bed. In the morning I reapplied antibiotic gel and put a band-aid on it, and went off to work, off to Dude's aunt's house where his mother is clearing it out. (Aunt had to go into a long-term-care apartment downstate near her daughter, after a stroke left her with poor working memory, and nobody's happy about this but the house needs to be gone through and her sister is the one to do it. And we are the ones to help her; her children live a few hundred to a thousand miles away, and wouldn't know what to do with the things in Latvian anyway.)

Anyway. Finished with that, took a nap, ran some errands. My thumb was a bit achy under that band-aid, but I was busy. It wasn't until I was making dinner and noticed a red line on my wrist that I realized I ought to give this more attention.

I finished making dinner, sat down, took off my watch to look at the red line a bit better. Now, I have really pale skin, and it shows red marks from everything; I expected it was red from steam from the cooking. But no, the line curved and went unaltered under where the band of my watch had been, and out the other side. It was under my skin, not the surface of it.

So I took a picture of it and sent it to an online buddy who is a nurse, who said immediately to go to urgent care, not to wait and see if it cleared up overnight because it was not going to. And now that I've come out the other side of this with some antibiotics, I thought I would write a little post and tell y'all what to worry about, because it was no big deal in my case but if I had waited it might well have been. So behind the cut will be a very non-gory photograph, which possibly will look more dramatic than it would on your skin because I have so little pigment in mine. But mine was a very clear textbook case, so I figure it's a good example. Again though, no gore, so I do encourage you to look even if you're squeamish, because it's really good to get an idea in your mind about danger.

For the record, urgent care turned me away so I went to the ER and while I waited a long time, the staff, rushed off their feet and far too busy, was still kind and reassured me I had done exactly the correct thing in coming in. This is the kind of thing it's trivial to fix up with a routine course of oral antibiotics if you catch it, but if it goes too long it can get into all kinds of bodily systems and become very difficult to safely eradicate, and can cause lasting, even permanent complications.

So I thought, for other dumbasses like me who would ignore a throbbing cut, here is a little PSA about Shit To Definitely Not Ignore, and thanks times several million to my online nurse buddy who told me so.

Behind the cut, a photo that does not include the actual injury or any gore or disfigurement, but very clearly shows the telltale sign, which is redness from inflammation from the infection traveling through the lymphatic system, and is like, a prime time danger sign and if you see this seek care and do not delay. I haven't been able to find good pictures of what this looks like on darker skin, alas, but here it is on me.

[Image description: the right forearm and hand of a pale-skinned person, lying on the edge of a table with the fingers loosely closed, thumb upward. The thumb goes off the top of the frame, and a bandage is just visible circling it. A red line wavers from the side of the thumb down along the back of the heel of the hand, curves down along the inner edge of the wrist, and then curves down to the underside of the arm. Several blue veins are also dimly visible through the skin, not following quite the same path as the red line, which is wider and blurrier than they are. The red line is quite blurry and hard to see in some places, clearer and more distinct in others, and in one place clearly but briefly splits to follow two channels before reuniting into one. There's also a faint dent visible in the skin at the side of the wrist, where the buckle of a watch was; the red line is not otherwise interrupted by where the skin had been covered by the watch.]

Again, the injury itself was a little gnarly but not anything I would have sought treatment for on its own; it was a bit sore to bend my thumb, it was getting a bit red and swollen but I had it under a bandage and wasn't monitoring it. The red streak was what made me look, and it's good I did. For the record, i don't know if this is typical, but pressing down at the point right on the side of my wrist where that red streak was widest was tender, like pressing a bruise, and isn't this morning; that was what really convinced me this was something from the inside and not a weird mark left by touching something from the outside. I don't know if that would be universal, and it wasn't tender along the whole length of it, but right there it's going over bone so I could really feel it. It's not raised at all, not a rash, it felt like bruising deep under the skin but if you pull your finger across it didn't fade or change color or have any kind of texture to it at all. This morning it's not tender anymore either, though the injury itself is a bit more painful than it was.

They gave me a dose of antibiotics last night around 10pm, and the streaking has faded, but the injury itself is more angry and swollen and is affecting my grip strength with that hand. I plan to follow the course of antibiotics, of course, and am grateful for modern medicine, which makes this mostly just an amusing anecdote. Who knew scraping your hand in a barn full of rat shit was dangerous! (Well, I did.)

Anyway-- off to see about filling this prescription. I gotta take it four times a day but like, y'know, I can handle that in exchange for not having sepsis, LOL.

[lale-txt]

❈ 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐰/ 𝐆𝐨𝐣𝐨 & 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐠𝐧)

@bas-writes asked: That was supposed to be a joke but I can't get it out of my mind after our extra conversation 😭😂 Could I request Gojo or Geto (still can't decide sorry aklskdd) taking bath or shower with their tall afab s/o - or rather, attempting to because when the average height is like 185cm nothing possibly can be easy 🤭 Thank you! ❤

a/n: ngl this drabble sent me into a deep dive of how certain parts of a shower are called because somehow i forgot them in all three languages LMAO it ended up being a short drabble and only slightly suggestive at the end, but the scenario was just too funny for me to take the full blown nsfw route asdfhjks but i hope you'll enjoy it anyway! thank you for your request, Bas! you're always giving me such fun prompts to work with, hehe.

word count: 637

“Uhm, excuse me, personal space?” 

You let out a small huff when someone squeezes into the shower with you, basically cornering you with his tall frame. It’s not like you were small to begin with, and yet Gojo still could rest his chin on top of your head if he wanted to–and right now there was almost no other choice than to do so. This shower wasn’t built for a person above average height, even less for two of your kind.

“You didn’t seem to mind me in your personal space last ni–OI!”

Note to yourself: Shower head aimed directly at his face can make Gojo shut up for an approximate span of two seconds. He’ll never get rid of the house cat accusations, huh?

Gojo grabs your hand that’s holding the cursed tool and gently nibs at your neck (again with the cat behavior…) before he puts the shower head back where it belongs. He’s not bothered by your protests and reaches to adjust the temperature of the water from a pleasant medium high to something that could best be described as close to boiling, filling the already too small shower with so much steam you practically go blind. Not much of a problem for the Six Eyes though.

“You could have just waited till I got out of the shower, you know?”, you grumble, trying to find your shampoo bottle but continue to grab anything but said bottle, maybe because Gojo is everywhere your hands reach out to in this cramped space. He hums, a deep sound in his chest that was close to purring, his big hands running over your body playfully with his chest pressed against your back. 

“But Ichiji texted me that he’s already waiting for us outside, even before I got into the shower. I’m just being time-efficient here”, Gojo coos and presses a kiss on the back of your neck. His wet hair tickles your skin while his hands sneak around your waist—a moment of defenselessness, leaving him unprepared for you abruptly bending over to grab your shampoo from the ground and pummeling your boyfriend out of the shower with the sheer force of your arched back.

Freedom never tasted sweeter than in this moment; to finally move around somewhat freely in your shower again without bumping into this brick of a man. Sure, you still had to duck slightly to stand under the shower head, but at least it wasn’t getting blocked by another giant. You love Gojo, with all your heart, but you learned very early on in your relationship that showering together wasn’t this romantic and cute scenario for you two to enjoy–it was war.

“Oi!”

The shower curtain gets dramatically pulled aside and once the hot water steam sets slightly, you see your butt-naked lover with his hands on his hips, bright blue eyes on you, probably thinking of a hundred creative ways to make you pay for your crime. You would be intimidated if he didn’t look like a soggy wet Norwegian cat which makes you bite back a laughter forming in your throat.

“Don’t come back in here, I swear, this shower is too small for–”, you threaten him with a laugh, already reaching for your weapon–the shower head–again. 

With one big step Gojo is back in the shower with you, cornering you once more, his mouth finding your neck and trailing kisses up to your ear before he bites it gently. He chuckles quietly at the small noise you let out and you know he won’t stop until he charms out many, many other sounds. Something tells you that you won’t be getting out of this shower anytime soon and you make a mental note to send Ichiji a gift basket for putting up with your demeanors. It probably won’t be the last time.