#but god DAMN do those boys deserve a fucking break. please.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

i dont know if im still just fucking reeling and riding the extreme emotional high that the david kaufman voicelines gave me. but i think pd just bumped up to being my favorite jrwi campaign. like it was suuuuch a close second behind riptide for so long. and while i do love riptide very dearly and it has a really really specific special place in my brain. god fucking damn it i havent been this winded and weepy and emotional over a season finale in such a long time

[worldlxvlys]

Hi baby!

I love your writing so much!

Are you able to do a aftercare fic? Majority of smut stories I see they have little to no aftercare or very shitty aftercare

Hope you're doing well!

earned it (one of the girls part 3)

fwb! chris sturniolo x reader

warnings: smutttt, p in v, cream pie, overstimulation, oral (fem receiving), pretty fluffyyyy, cursing

a/n: hopefully this is enough aftercare for you 🙏🏾

hope you enjoyyy

part 1. part 2.

“well? what are you so afraid of?” she asked, looking at me expectantly.

“i don’t know” i breathed out, finding it difficult to speak the words i wanted to.

she squinted her eyes at me, “yes you do, chris. why are you lying to me?”

fuck her for knowing me so well.

“i’m not” i spoke, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“yes you are”

“no, i’m…” my voice trailed off as she leaned over me on the bed, making me move my body away from hers until i was laying down.

“do i make you nervous, chris ?” she asked as she looked down at me.

yes.

“no”

“still lying, huh?” she asked as she ground her hips down into mine.

“oh my god” i groaned as my hands shot out to her waist.

“no touching until you stop lying to me” she spoke as she slapped my hands away.

her hands pushed down on my chest, keeping my body pressed to the bed as she rubbed her clothed pussy against my bulge.

“touch me again and i’ll tie your ass up” she spoke before pulling her shirt over her head.

“fuck” i sighed out as i realized she wasn’t wearing a bra.

you make it look like it’s magic

‘cause i see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

i was lost in the way her hips moved on top of me. the way she leaned back on my thighs, her head thrown back in pleasure.

she knew what she wanted, and she was going to get it.

when she put her mind to something, she never allowed anything to stop her. and right now, she was determined to get the truth out of me.

i was damn near ready to give it to her.

she never broke eye contact with me, despite my dominant nature, she was never intimidated by me.

although she was usually the submissive one, she never failed to put me in my place.

so i love when you call unexpected

‘cause i hate when the moment’s expected

so i’ma care for you, you, you

i’ma care for you, you, you, you

she caught me off guard with the role switch, the last thing i was expecting tonight was to have her on top of me, looking down at me with those hooded eyes.

she knew exactly what to do to drive me crazy, she knew what to do to get me to break.

she grabbed my hand, moving it up her ribcage but stopping right under her breast.

“wanna touch, chris?” she asked, tilting her head to the side and batting her eyelashes at me.

i nodded my head frantically.

“beg”

“no”

“no?” she raise her eyebrows at me, halting her movements.

“i wanna take care of you” i spoke up to her.

“that’s a first” she scoffed. “you can make it up to me after, right now i wanna hear you beg”

“you want me so bad? you care about me? actions speak louder than words, pretty boy. so fucking prove it”

“please. i wanna touch you so badly, ma. i wanna worship your body, show you how much you mean to me. wanna show you how loved you are” i said.

cause girl, you’re perfect

you’re always worth it

and you deserve it

the way you work it

“go ahead then” she said. as soon as the words came out of her mouth, i sat up, wrapping my arms around her waist.

“love your tits” i whispered before bringing one into my mouth, making her moan.

i focused on swirling my tongue around her nipple before doing the same to the other one.

i left open-mouthed kisses all over her chest while staring up at her.

“i know you like it rough, but i’m gonna take my time with you. you deserve it”

‘cause girl, you earned it, yeah

girl, you earned it, yeah

i left kisses up her neck, and jaw before leaving them all over her face.

“chris!” she laughed before i placed a soft kiss against her lips.

“you’re so fucking beautiful, have i ever told you that?”

“yeah, but you were also buried inside of me when you said it so i don’t think that counts” she said playfully.

“i mean everything i tell you, no matter when i say it. it’s never just the heat of the moment baby” i whispered to her.

��ok” she whispered back, a slight smile growing on her face.

i left kisses all up and down her arms, before starting my descent down her stomach.

“can i?” i asked as my mouth stopped at her sleep shorts.

“always, chris”

on that lonely night

said it wouldn’t be love

but we felt the rush

i couldn’t keep my hands off of her, not being able to touch her seemed to have affected me way more than i thought it had.

i needed to feel her bare body against mine.

“need to feel you” i whispered against her skin, looking up at her.

“you have me, chris. i’m right here” she responded, breathing heavily.

i pulled down her shorts and panties, while she helped me rid myself of my own clothes.

once they were off, i flipped us around, laying her down under me.

we just stared at each other for a while, so many unspoken words being exchanged through our eyes.

we both knew what this meant, but were too scared to say it aloud.

i love you.

at least, that’s what i was thinking. who knows what was going on in her head.

“mark me” i told her.

“what?” she asked, eyes widening.

“no more other girls, i only want you. i’m yours, so mark me”

she wasted no time in pulling my neck down, placing her lips on it.

i let out a moan at the feeling of her sucking on the skin, her lips massaging the area sensually before she let it go.

she moved further up my neck, repeating the motion several times, before moving her head back to admire her work.

“pretty” she whispered with a smile on her face.

i dipped my head back down, now leaving kisses to her thighs.

‘cause girl you’re perfect

you’re always worth it

and you deserve it

“you deserve all of the love in this world, and if no one else gives it to you, then i will” i spoke between kisses. “i love everything about you”

“chris-”she started, but let out a loud moan when i licked a stripe up her pussy.

“just need a little taste” i spoke as i stared at her wetness.

i hooked my hands around her thighs before lapping at her arousal.

“oh my god, chris. yes, yes, it feels so good!” she gasped.

i groaned against her as i felt her thighs push against my hands, attempting to close.

her gasps and moans filled the room as i continued to work my tongue through her folds, relishing in the taste of her against my tongue.

i pushed my tongue into her needy hole, her hands flying to my hair to grip the brown locs.

i curled my tongue inside of her, shoveling it through her velvety walls, making her scream.

“c-chris, i’m gonna cum if you keep doing that” she moaned out.

i shook my head side to side, allowing my nose to press against her clit, before moving my face away.

“god, you taste so fucking good” i whispered as i licked my lips, watching as she looked down at me with her eyes slightly widened.

“need you so bad, chris” she whined, clenching her thighs together.

“i got you, princess. just relax. gonna take care of you” i told her before lining myself up with her.

“ready?” i asked, grabbing her hips. once she gave me a nod in response, i pushed into her.

her legs wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer to her, making us both moan as i bottomed out.

i leaned down, pressing my chest to hers as i began to move.

my thrusts were slow but deep, allowing her walls to cling onto my dick tightly.

“h-holy shit” i groaned out, shuddering at the way she felt around me.

we’d done this a million times before, but this time was different.

it felt like i was closer to her than i’d ever been.

she looked so good, staring up at me with her face contorted in pleasure, her eyes rolled into the back of her head.

“god, you feel so good around me. not gonna last long” i groaned when she clenched around me in response.

“fuck, i-i’m so close” i moaned as my hands clenched the bedsheet under her.

“good, i want you to fill me up so badly” she spoke as she stared up at me.

she was pushing me closer to my orgasm embarrassingly fast, but i couldn’t help it.

being with her like this was driving me crazy. my every thought was consumed by her. my skin pressed against hers, the taste of her essence lingering on my tongue, her breathy moans, her hands wrapped around my arms, all of the little things turned me on even more.

“come on, chris. you gonna cum with me?” she asked as she clenched around me again, pushing me over the edge.

“oh my god! fuck, fuck, i’m cumming” i panted out as i shot my load inside of her, making her cry out.

she shook under me as she released all over my cock, while my seed continued to spurt out of me.

“fuck, chris. didn’t even know you could cum this much” she spoke when i finished, her inner thighs covered in my pleasure.

when i pulled out, we watched our juices spill out of her and onto the sheets.

“got anymore?” she asked before wrapping her hand around my dick, making my hips jerk into her hand.

“w-wait, baby that- shit, shit, shit” i whimpered as more cum shot out of me.

“hmm, someone liked that, huh?” she teased as she continued to stroke me, watching as my hips shook.

i went to grab her wrist, but she stopped me before i could.

“what’s that you always tell me? sit there and take it?” she smirked at me.

a few more beads of cum flew out of me before she let go of me, making me let out a heavy sigh.

“i- you’re fucking insane” i breathed out as she pulled me on top of her into a hug.

“ yup, and you love it” she smiled, leaving a kiss to my nose.

“ok, i gotta go now” i spoke as i began to get up, jokingly.

she saw the smile on my face, knowing i was joking, before pulling me back down onto her.

“shut the hell up, you’re not funny” she narrowed her eyes at me.

“i think i’m hilarious”

“i think it’s hilarious how i just had you whimpering a minute ago”

my smile instantly dropped at that, as i shot her a glare, “ok fuck you”

“just saying” she shrugged.

“are you ok? anything hurt?” i asked, scanning her body over.

“i’m ok, chris”

“mmhm, what hurts?” i asked as i placed a few kisses to her shoulder.

“my legs”

“want a massage?” i asked her.

“please” she sighed out.

i moved down to her legs, placing my hands on one and gently squeezing it.

i rubbed the soft skin between my hands, soothing her achey muscles.

she moaned at the feeling, her eyes fluttering shut.

i continued to massage her leg, her noises of approval fueling me to keep going, before moving to the other leg.

when i finished i looked up to tell her i was done, only to be met with her soft snores.

i went to her bathroom, wetting a clean wash cloth with warm water, and coming back to clean her up.

when i finished, i put my shirt on her to keep her from getting cold, before cleaning myself up.

i discarded the wash cloth in the hamper before getting back into the bed with her, pulling the blanket over both of us.

i looked at her before whispering, “i love you so much, you’re worth it. i’m not running away ever again”

‘cause girl you’re perfect

the way you work it

you deserve it

girl, you deserve it

🌹🌹🌹🌹

masterlist

tag list: : @lustfulslxt @flowerxbunnie @sturnssx @mattslolita @its-jennarose @sophssturn @bernardsleftbootycheek @queen161718 @cupidsword @imwetforyourmom @nickmillersn1gf @mattsneezing @chrisstankyleg @sturniolobltch @ciarasturn1 @bethsturn @bernardenjoyer @mbbsgf @rac00ns-are-c00l4 @ssturniolo @blueeyedbesson @mxqdii @sturniolowhore @readerakayourname @defnotayonna @urmom2bitch @rootbeerworshiper @starsturniolo @hearts4chriss @theyluv-meee @carolinalikesthings @itzdarling @chrisstopherfilmed @judespoision @sstvrnioloo @littlebookworm803 @nicksdrpepper @chrisloyalgf @robins-scoop @fandomhopped @chr1sgirl4life @bbglmfao @55sturn @sturniolololover @meg-sturniolo @mattsnymphette @leah-loves-lilies @vanteguccir @ineedchriscock @junnniiieee07

[balsalmic-vinegar]

I'm so sick and tired of the Demon Brothers judging Mammon. Like, calling him scumbag and worthless. Do they not realize that words hurt? That their words might actually have an affect on mammon that they may not realize? Like, omg I know it's a game, but god fucking damn. Let my poor baby have a break :(

He's trying his fucking hardest, but he stills gets so much shit from his brothers. HIS BROTHERS. Of all people (or demons ig). Like be so fucking for real.

In my opinion, Mammon is the demon closest to regaining his title as an angel. He's never used his demon form on MC and hasn't even threatened it. He's never harmed them. But all of the other brothers have (besides maybe Asmo and Beel, but still). Anyways, PLEASE LET MY SWEET BABY BOY BREATHEEEE

edit: i know he’s not innocent, i’m not saying he is. he does steal their things to sell them, and so in those situations it is deserved. however, all the times he’s called an idiot and stupid when all he’s trying to do is talk, i think is a bit much. and i don’t he should be strung up as often as he is, bc that can be considered abusive. i’m just saying that all the name calling and degradation can’t be good for his mental health

edit (again): this was supposed to be a silly little rant and wasnt supposed to be taken too seriously. and i’m sorry if any of you who come across it find it offensive or inaccurate. these are just my personal opinions and you don’t have to agree. i respect that you may feel differently on the matter, and i respect different thoughts and opinions on it. so all i ask is that you respect mine as well. but i am open to further discussion on the topic if any of you would like to have one. my dms are open! :3 <3

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Finale

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also.It's just colors and vibes here. It's been a chaotic journey, but it finally ends today, most likely with a character death, so . . .

Disclaimer: I'm just screaming this entire post.

Surprising absolutely no one, Barbara immediately forgave Charles. Like I wrote last week, I'll hold this grudge for both of us, Babe.

If this bastard is still alive by the end of this, there is no justice in the world.

Did he just give them a key to get out? They could just walk through a door, but . . . I'll take it. Kentana is trying to redeem himself. Now, KILL YOUR SHITTY FATHER, and you will earn the top place in my heart.

Don't do it, Way Way. Don't. I see you eyeing that man, but you will take zero bullets for Pete or Babe. Am I clear?! NONE! I don't care if you are wearing white compared to everyone else's black. You will not die. No.

I'm not even going to say shit about these two's colors because BIG RED JUST KILLED A KID!

OH FUCK! HE IS KILLING EVERYONE!

KIMBERLY! I LOVE YOU!

And this is why you deserve to die. Who does something like this? It's not a porn, sir. This is a murder. You're about to die. Not get laid.

WAYMOND, NO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING DO THIS! NOOOOOOOOOO!

I know it's blood, but the 'smoke' being red too is great and I need more of it as BIG RED DIES FOR KILLING WAY WAY!

Y'all are letting Big Red talk too much while Way Way is just bleeding out on the floor, and I just need one of y'all to apply pressure to the wound so Way has a fighting chance. Please for the love of God. PLEASE! LET WAY LIVE!

Oh, shit, this is awful. Do NOT think about any good memories with this man who wore red in the past but no longer does for some wacky reason. Those memories are all tainted. He is awful. KILL HIM ALREADY AND GET WAY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL!

I HATE HIM! Barbara, don't you trade your life for Charles. Don't fucking do it. Charles came back from the dead once. He can do it again. KILL BIG RED ALREADY!

OH MY FUCKING GOD, YES! I LOVE KENTA! KILL HIM!

YOU KILLED YOUR SHITTY FATHER! YOU'VE DONE WHAT NO OTHER BL BOY HAS EVER DONE!

YOU WON MY HEART!

Now, someone go hug him! Pete what the fuck are you doing?! One boyfriend is dying and another is breaking down. DO SOMETHING, PETER!

I knew this was going to happen! I knew Way was gonna die taking a bullet for Babe. I knew it, and I'm still upset! WHY?! Why can't Peter have TWO boyfriends?! Why do we always have to kill someone to redeem them and to cancel them out of the poly plot equation. LET POLY HAPPEN!

Fuck, Alan is crying.

FUCK!

I will not be pacified with Jeffrey finally being consumed by blue. I'm still very upset about Way Way having to die instead of Peter just having two boyfriends.

Vegas' Hedgehog, I'm so over your ass! Red flowers?! At Way's funeral?! That is sooooo rude! What is wrong with you?! Read the room, you pretty bitch! RED IS OUT! Way died for the blue! THE BLUE!

I hate this necklace. I hate that Way is dead instead of being taken care of by his two boyfriends. Where the hell is Ken anyway?! Why is he not holding Peter's hand right now? WHAT IS THIS LIE?!

I trust your dad, Barbie, because he is wearing blue, but you have had to cry a thousand tears this episodes, and I pray like GMMTV's First, you stay hydrated because crying can wreck havoc on a thirsty body.

Y'all cannot fuck the grief away in the blue. You can try, but Waymond is still gonna be dead instead of having two boyfriends. This is a real problem, and I want it addressed. RIGHT NOW!

KIMBERLY! YOU'RE BLUE NOW!

Everyone is in blue, and then we have Vegas' fucking Hedgehog in those damn orange pants, and . . . AHHHHHHH *starts throwing clothes around the room and out the window*

Barbie is lighter. He is still black, but now he has the white mixed with it while he looks longingly into the eyes of his Blue Boy (who lied to him several times including lying about his death, pero I'll carry this grudge for both of us, Barbara)

Now why the fuck are you wearing red, Alan?! Why won't this show just let me have nice things?!

So . . . now that this is all over and I, unsurprisingly, did NOT get poly nor Kenta x Pete, I will be unblocking the tags because seeing black boxes on my dash is driving me crazy, and I need to reblog some GIFs of Kimberly, Alan, and Waymond x Peter x Kentana to fill this huge void in my heart where a poly plot would have perfectly fit.

I will never go back and watch this show with subs. Never. Whatever I got from it was exactly what I needed to get from it, and I need nothing else. Because what I got was a boy FINALLY deciding to

KILL HIS SHITTY FATHER

Kenta, you deserve my respect. You loved Pete. You helped all the guys in your own way. You killed your shitty dad. You committed queer wrongs, and I forgive every single one of them. You deserve a happy life, and I hope you are laying in Pete's bed with his arms around you thinking about what y'all will have for breakfast, so he can read your mind and go make it for you.

I like you.

I respect you.

I love you.

And so does Pete.

GIVE ME POLY, DAMN IT!

[sister-lucifer]

what’s wrong with you based on your favorite batman villain

(don’t take these too seriously)

(sequel to this post)

The Riddler: Holy shit shut the fuck up for two seconds PLEASE. i know you have a touch of the tism and crave to derail every conversation to talk about your special interest but no one else is having fun. this is why you don’t have any friends. You also have a very niche and the second most expensive taste in clothing so you only have like 3 outfits to mix and match. You either dress like you’re going to the Met Gala or like a dad on vacation, no in between

The Penguin: STOP FUCKING IMPULSE BUYING!!! YOU HAVE TOO MANY TRINKETS!!! YOU DONT NEED IT JUST BECAUSE ITS PRETTY!!!! You have the most expensive taste in clothing, especially victorian undergarments, and spend an embarrassing amount of money to dress like a vampire. And stop being so hard on your body. It might not always be the perfect image of what you want, but it’s doing its best, even if you have to help it out a bit.

Harley Quinn: Sweetheart, I promise you are more than just your sex appeal. I know you grew up around misogyny and were raised to be a housewife but you’re free now!! Well…you would be if you stopped picking the shittiest men. A relationship does not define you, stop settling for assholes because you feel ashamed for being single. Have you tried dating a woman? No, seriously, try it. You deserve it

The Joker: Stop using your humor to deflect from your trauma, i bet your back hurts from carrying the weight of being the funniest person in your friend group. You’re a big time maximalist who spends an hour picking out a hundred accessories to wear and wind up being late because you couldn’t choose which kandi bracelets were best for the occasion. You’re still holding on to the last shreds of your teenage edgelord phase. Also clean your damn room and throw away those old drink cans, nasty ass

Catwoman: How does it feel to be the sexiest person in the room at any given time? Not good, I bet, since you struggle to make friends because of how often they wind up to only be after your body. Sorry you can’t catch a break. You’re probably still carrying money saving habits you got from your parents when you were a kid even though you don’t need to now. Also please try wearing a color besides black, it’s almost summer, you’re gonna die of heatstroke. Nice eyeliner though

Poison Ivy: Dude, so many people are crushing on you rn, how do you not see this?! You’re so hot but soooo emotionally unavailable, christ. A boy in middle school said something uncomfortable to you once which was then reinforced by the misogynistic micro aggressions you were subject to as a teenager and it’s kinda tainted your entire view of the male gender, which is fair but also kinda sucks.

The Scarecrow: Daddy issues, daddy issues everywhere. He was scary as fuck, wasn’t he? Your fear was valid. You really love to analyze people which wouldn’t be an issue if you could actually be subtle about it. Stop staring, you creep. Also, that flannel doesn’t look as good as you think it does, you look like a depressed lumberjack. Like please just buy a cardigan. Halloween is your favorite holiday and you get really annoying about it around mid august. And remember to brush your fuckin hair for gods sake

The Mad Hatter: You get like…reeeeaaaally weird about your crushes, man. Like whatever you’re doing it’s not normal. You can just talk to them, you know. You have the weirdest sexual interests but they’re more so hyper specific and niche than gross or unsettling. That’s better, I guess? You gotta leave your headspace and live in reality for a bit, man. I know it kinda sucks, but there are real people here! Also you’re short. Gross

[rigginsstreet]

Steve Harrington is a pretty good choice in partner, but Billy is of the solid opinion that everything can be improved. And what won't be improved willingly can always be roped and dragged there kicking and screaming.

First and foremost; that godforsaken bedroom his boyfriend expects him to sleep in. Billy actually physically recoils the first time Harrington opens the door, and decides immediately if you ever want to break a man, just lock him in here.

Looking at his dad's bare asshole would invoke less of a vomit reflex than tartan on tartan. Also, whoever actually created and sold tartan wallpaper needs to be killed for the immediate greater good of humanity.

Still. The wallpaper is a longcon kinda game, so Billy turns his attention to something that can be fixed with relative swiftness.

The fire is roaring and crackling when Steve comes home from work, and his boyfriend scrunches his nose at it with a pleased, surprised smile. "Howdy, Pyro," he greets, leans over Billy's shoulder to warm his hands. Billy offers him the pack of marshmallows and, subtly, uses his heel to kick the pair of scissors further under the deck chair.

"Is that fabric?" Steve asks on his third marshmallow, leaning so close to the flames Billy has to pull him back lest he lose a brow.

"Eh, scraps I found in the garage."

Two weeks later, Steve has been rib-deep in his closet for a good half an hour before he calls out; "hey, Cake? Do you know where my green sweater is?"

Billy can't help smiling a slow, smug, sly little thing as he dries off the last dish. "Sorry, Hidalgo. No idea."

The next time, Steve brought it on himself. The faux-fur monstrosity he wears out to the movies looks like he cut up a rug made out of unfortunate roadkill and shaped it like a jacket, and honestly, Billy's just doing the Lord's work when he trips and spills a blue slushie all over it. It'll never wash out, and Harrington wisely decides the thing has lived a full life and deserves to visit the landfill of eternal rest.

The day after, Billy buys a cream colored suede jacket with sheepskin on the collar and cuffs. Presents it to Steve, pouty and apologetic, and Steve wears it for a week straight when they go out. It makes his eyes look deeper, darker. Makes the pink on his cheeks stand out a little.

Two months into dating proper, Steve wears an honest to god vest that Nancy got him for his birthday to Jonathan's college leaving party, and Billy has to do breathing exercises before getting in the car.

"You love him," he mutters, clenching and unclenching his fists. "You love him. His dick is fucking huge. You love him. He eats your ass like he's starving. You love him...."

The vest, ultimately, accidentally gets washed with a pair of jeans Billy doesn't really care about anyway, which happen to have a forgotten switchblade in the pocket, and Billy has to visibly school his expression when Steve pulls it out of the machine a half-hour later in eight different pieces.

They're three months, two jackets, three sweats, one vest and a pair of honest to god flared khakis ("they're novelty, Billy!") later, and they're laying together in their newly papered bedroom when Steve rolls over him, tucks a lock of his hair behind his ear and says;

"The guilt is eating me alive, so. How about next time you hate something I wear, you just tell me, and we can donate it to charity so you can get me something else, my conscience stays clear, and we're both happy, mm?"

Billy grins. "And inflict those crimes against humanity on other people? Damn, Long Johnson. Knew you were a secret sadist. That's kinda hot," he bites his lip and Steve laughs, squirms up close, fingers digging into Billy's hips, words hot on his ear.

"Oh, Barbie. If you wanna see sadism, I'll show you my christmas sweater collection."

I AM SCREAMING AT THESE NICKNAMES!!!!

billy is gonna queer eye steve so hard when they start dating ... he loves the rich preppy boy money he does NOT love the yuppie fashion he has to draw a line somewhere

[heartofhubris-a]

top ten molina characters that need to get dicked down

Otto Octavius

One look at this wet, greiving man, and I'll put down money that the man needs a night ignoring the fact he's constantly in pain and that he really really needs some release, and to see that he can have fun with the actuators

2. Harding Hooten

To quote @eroticaplush

He needs a break. Harding needs some stress relief. He's overworked and needs something to remember how to relax. Harding needs someone to lay him on the bed and ride him so all he has to do is hold onto their hips

3. Konstantin Levin

Between his adhd and the whole Kitty settling for him in the book, Koysta needs someone to pin him to the bed, wrists in their hands, and introduce him to his prostate.

4. Comte De Reynaud

I think that if you poked his arm he'd snap in half from stress. And he's gone how many years since his wife left? Yes, he would cum the second you touched his dick. But that would not be the only time he came that night.

5. Maxim horvath

In that exact same vein as Comte, Maxim's at least gone a century or so without a single orgasm to our knowledge. He doesn't really seem to have had a moment in the movie to take himself in hand, and frankly the world needs to know if Maxim's eyes would roll back into his head the first time he cums

6. Jim Bussey

we get about nothing for his character in this movie at all. But a hermit with a salt and pepper beard like that? Dead wife? Tragic man who looks like he's a damn space heater? oh man his hands would be clumsy and out of practice but there's gunna be some eager smiles and looks and messy kisses

7. Cliff, Orchids

just gunna point at the man and ask you if you think he's not repressed. And those GLORIOUS stairs? please please let him get fucked on them, or fuck someone on those stairs. He needs it, he deserves it.

8. Oliver Syme

Possibly controversial, but. From what I remember of his character, the asshole needs to have someone to butt heads with him, but in the way that he's interested instead of turned away. Wall fucking. That's the idea there.

9. Satipo

Ok yes he was in the movie for all of like 30 seconds and he did backstab Indiana however, did you see how eager his eyes were? Oh my god Satipo would be begging for directions and so fucking eager to please, he'd just want to do whatever he could to be called good or smart or sweet, give that boy some affirmations and affection and he'd be putty. And tie up his hands behind his back.

10. Snidley Whiplash.

I specifically want this one to be with someone more sexually experienced than him though so he can try and talk a big game and then get absolutely turned inside out by functionally a single finger. Let that villain be wrapped around my finger and every single one of his evil plans will be confessed to.

[sarascamander]

I need to rant somewhere and here's the thing, holy fuck Holloway and Jack are ADORABLE. I'm just in chapter 5 of the second book and they already get me giggling and kicking my feet just by being themselves. I'm smiling like an idiot in public. I'm humiliated! Damn them.

1) their banter is EVERYTHING. They fought like a married couple I LOVE THEM SO MUCH. They banter so smoothly and sometimes out of topic that they forget the first topic and it's always about something so domestic like the state of Jack's room and Holloway's quirk. THEY'RE SO CUTE.

2) The communication *chef fucking kiss*. Communication is their strongest suit, honestly the other miscommunication trope can go fuck off. They tell each other when they're upset or angry and try to solve it now and here. It wasn't always easy but they always talked to each other about their feelings and other stuff. Like when H was following Jack and Aston. They laid out their feelings and sorted it out and it's SO SATISFYING. They know each other so damn well.

“Did you lie to me?” I asked.

His answer took a long time: the ticking of the snow against the windshield, the hiss of the heater, the engine’s purr. “No.”

“Did you think about it?”

He took even longer. “Yes.”

I nodded. “Could you have gotten away with it?

"Of course.” Then he shifted in his seat. Some of the Ivy League part had come loose and tumbled across his forehead. His voice held a faint note of chagrin as he added, “Until you asked me. I find it difficult to…prevaricate. With you.”

“What every boy dreams of hearing.”

3) Ariana is a cool girl and smart and really an angel who knows her worth. I like her and she deserves the World but for god sake please break up with Jack. He belongs to Holloway, please Ariana, you must see that. 🙏🏻🙏🏻

4) Jack is the best character ever. His sarcasm, his wit, his kindness, his patience — god, this guy is perfectly flawed and I love his broke ass. And I want to wrap Holloway in a fluffy blanket and hug him to death. He's adorable!!!!

5) Jack adored H so MUCH IT'S FREAKING ADORABLE. He noticed every one of H's habit and sometimes just drifted to the most romantic sweetest paragraph about how beautiful H is. LIKE STOP YOU'RE EMBARRASSING YOURSELF WITH HOW MUCH YOU'RE IN LOVE. I kid you not. I fucking love it. For example:

He (Holloway) made a frustrated noise. Then he smiled. The expression was a little stiff; he wasn’t used to doing it, and it was another of those things that he was self-conscious about. I’d read about people who get up at two or three in the morning—on vacation, no less, when they’re in Hawaii—and then they drive hours and hours, and all of it is to see the sunrise from this one specific spot, and I thought, Come to Utah if you want something worth your time.

For context, they are in Utah. Jack basically implies that H's smile is prettier than sunrise goddamn it!

6) Jack is basically 90% of Holloway's impulse control. And that's saying something since Jack doesn't even have an impulse control himself. He'll be like "you need to eat, H" and "when is the last time you sleep, H?"and "how much of Addie did you take?" And all that stuff but the next scene show Jack literally smashed at a party and almost got beaten up.

7) Jack's narrative is the funniest, I swear

Detective Rivera, one of the Utah County Sheriff’s Department’s finest and my personal law-enforcement nemesis (if he could still be a nemesis after he bought me McDonald’s), was sitting on the sofa, sending a message on his phone.

8. Jack is so proud of H whenever he did butchy thing — like, he love his asshole 😭😭

“I’ll tell him it’s a sex thing.” “Good,” Holmes said. “He’ll be pleased that all your hours of mindless pornography are finally paying dividends.” My jaw legit dropped. “H!” “Desk, please.” “That was so amazingly bitchy.” “Desk.” “And, like, also kind of evil. Which I loved.”

9. Are you fucking kidding me?

He sat there in silhouette, head down. I knew the curve of his spine. I knew the span of his shoulders. Anywhere, I thought. I could be anywhere and know you

10. The fact that every single guy in Holmes' life let him down and hurt him one way or another and Jack is the only one who cherished him 😭😭

[theatrekidstatus]

Chapter 11

Y/n pov: -next month- "Y/N" Anthony yelled "YEAH" I yelled back "Let's go we have rehearsals" he informed I mumbled a bunch of stuff none were real words I changed into this

"You look beautiful babe" he compliments "Thank you," I say "Not so bad yourself " I complimented Wee better head out now" he advised "Yeah"

"BABE" Jazzy yelled"WIFEY" I scream back "We're GONNA BE ON BROADWAY" "FAMOUS COUPLE" "LEZZZZ GOOOOOO" "MAN WHAT YOU LOOKING AT US FOR" Jazzy screamed at Ant "Shi my bad" he replied "fuh boy" she calls "yo calm down jazzy" I warn "my bad" she 'apologizes' "now say sorry" I demanded "SORRY ANT" she yells "oh um no prob-" he says before getting cut off "THAT YOUR HAIRLINES RECEDING" she cuts off "there it is" "JASMINE CEPHAS JONES" renèe yells "IM SORRY ANT" she yells we didn't believe her. so we waited [ (; ] "DAMN I SAID SORRY" she yells agitated "I forgive you" he chockes up "coo" she replies "OK LETS GET TO WORK" Lin shouts we head to the stage it was so big (a/n: shut up) ok let's rehearse first song

-2 minutes later-

"when he was ten his father split full of it depth ridden"

-2 hours later- "let's take a break" (RUN AWAY WITH US FOR THE SUMMER LET'S GO UPDATE) "I'm so tired" I tell Ant "Did you eat" he asks "Yeah..." I lie "Are you lying?" "Yeah..." I admit "Eat this apple" he demands "ok..." I eat the apple "Now let's take a nap" he suggests I fell asleep while Ant was scrolling threw insta I wake up to a nudge "Hey, hey, babe wake up" "What happened" I rub my eyes with the bottom of my fist "we gotta rehearse" I yawn and get up "I bet you could sleep forever" renèe "LIN WHAT MY RECORD" he shouts"17 hours" "WHAT THE FUCK" "I was depressed"

-After rehearsal- "SEE YOU TOMORROW GANG" Lin yells "gang?" Jazzy asks with a raised eyebrow "Aren't we a gang" Lin asks "I'd take family" Pippa suggests "DIBS ON MOM" I shout "DIBS ON DAD" Ant shouts "Aw fuck" Lin mumbles "Anyway let's head home" Chris suggests "k" we all say in unison "you wanna stay at my apartment" ant asked "sure" "nice let's go" "but you don't have a car" I bring up "yeah" he tells "uh" "..." "uh let's go I guess" I say

-at apartment-

"Nice place" I compliment "Thanks, lemme get changed"

"Gah damn" I mumble "like what ya see?" He asks with a cocky voice and smiles "Hell yeah" I say flirtatiously. he chuckled and flopped in bed "you coming" he ask "i don't have anything to sleep in" I share "you did that on purpose" "maybeeeee" I joke "go get a t-shirt and boxers" he tells "YA-I mean ok" Anthony chuckled "your cute" "so are you" (imagine how Zendaya SOUNDED and that one interview when Tom holland said she was cute) "uh oh did nervous y/n come back" he ask with a smirk "no shut up" "THAT HURT MY FEELINGS MY WORDS MATTER" "👆🏾" he started fake crying "I'm sorry you big baby" I said while hugging him "it's ok" he faked sobbed i went to get his boxers and shirt "HOW DO I LOOK" "amazing" "ant" I whispered "what" "you're blushing" "oh um sorry um shit god" "JUST KIDDING" "🖕🏼" "I love you too now come here" "what" "I wanna spoon" "ok" we spooned and at 3:00 am we got a call "ughhhhhh" "do I Answer or" "pick Up I guess" "hello" "EW" "what" "it's that Alexa girl" "ew" "bye bitch" he said before hanging up "your funny" "I know" he says before falling back asleep

-next morning-

"WAKE UP" "SHUT UP" he started whimpering (STFU) "I'm sorry" "It's ok" We get ready

"Do you think you can move in those jeans" "yeah" "ok" "let's get donuts" "FUCK YEA" "let's go" we stopped at krispey cream "can I get-" "I WANT THE BEE DONUTS PLEASE" "HOW MANY" "ALL" "a dozen" "ALL" "DOZEN" "ok pull up please" "that will be 2.99 " (I don't know how much donuts cost) "thank you" "I WANTED ALL" I huff "you can have 2" "I DESERVE ALL" "you do but you only getting 2" "ghvghgdh" "sorry babe" it's fine"

-at the theatre-

"how was y'all sleep over" "good but Alexa called ant" "ew" "yeah but ant said 'bye bitch and hung up" "what she say" "um um" "ANTHONY" "huh" "WHAT LEXA SAY LAST NIGHT" "hi freckles" "ok" "YOU LYING" "NO JAZZY DANM" "AIGHT" "anyway I slept in his clothes" "oooooooo" "did y'all...you know" "JAZZY" "what" "it's ok and no we didn't" "OK LISTEN UP WE'RE GONNA BE ON BROADWAY SO THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT SO LETS GET TO WORK" "SIR YES SIR" "har de har" "now get up here" we got up there and didn't get down for 5 hours! I was wobbly and sick "UM LETS TAKE A BREAK" (rUn AwAy WiTh tHe SuMmEr LeTs Go UpStAtE) "You good pinky pie" "Shut up dude" "I'm Sirius" "Yeah...I'm im" then it went black. I hear loud sirens "Huh what happened" "Y/N" Ant and Lin yelled while they tried to jump in they only let Lin in and said "Sir your gonna have to meet her at the hospital I just saw angry tears flow down his face "L-Lin" "yeah" "what happened" "you fainted and we're out for 2hours" "it took y'all 2hours to call the ambulance" "IT TOOK THEM 2HOURS TO COME" "Lin shut up because if they throw us out on the streets what then" he chuckled we get there I got checked out they gave me pills and a chart on how much I should eat for each meal

-after rehearsals and at home-

"Hard day" "It was ok" (bars) "Let's eat" "I'm not really-" I was cut off by an intense stare given by Lin "I'll eat" "Good don't stuff or overeat"

-on broadway- "WOO OPENING NIGHT LETS GO HOW WE FEELING" "SCARED" "AND" "EXITED" "THATS WHAT I LIKE TO HEAR" "ok 45 minutes till places" "you nervous John" "No, I'm terrified" "don't be you did good off broadway" "just think of it as a bigger stage that's all it is" "just a bigger stage" he mumbled "exactly know get dressed" "I got-dressed" "ok" "oooooo updated costume?" "Yeah you should see my Phillip one" "Can't wait" "Is your mom here tonight" "Yeah she saved a seat for you and everything" Thanks babe I go find ant mom she waved me over and I sat with her and chatted about ant as a kid "oh he was so cute did you know he dimples on his butt" "no," I say giggling but not letting out the laugh I want "oh yeah he was cute the you know the baseball Super Bowl thing (I don't know what it's called or if it's even a thing😭😭) "yeah" "he loved it as kid he once pissed his pants not to miss it" "oh really" I say holding back I laugh "oh it's starting"

-After the show- "Can you show walk me backstage" "Of course" "HI BABE YOU DID SO GOOD" "THANKS babe, did you like meeting my mom" "Yep dimples" "Dim-?"He was caught off by embarrassment he went pale then red "Honey are you okay" "sí Mama que tu hablar como y/n" "You as a Child" "OK gracias" "No problema" "DONT worry I think it's cute" I say while kissing his cheek

[reynie-muldoons]

"A Commitment to All Things Cozy" liveblog!

FINALLY!! I've been super busy, but I can finally sit down and just enjoy myself. I'm watching both episodes- episode 6 tonight, and episode 7 either tonight or in the morning.

As always, spoilers below the cut!

0:32 the fact that they highlighted the "treat them without mercy" line in the recap makes me Nervous

0:58 oh shit, they didnt even play the intro. Things are getting serious

1:08 .....Martina?

1:27 RHONDAAAAA

1:32 and Martina :) team up of the century

1:47 "classic." God I missed Kate and Martina's dynamic

2:10 "to bring Curtain down" we love a vindictive woman

2:27 "Are you okay with this, Constance?" GOD I LOVE HER SO MUCH. she took the time to pause and get consent from the affected party. QUEEN BEHAVIOR.

2:31 "no one can punish her more than she punishes herself." Mic drop baby girl

2:33 "that's true 😥" HAHAHAHA

2:39 Italy? Somehow I did not expect that

2:52 "um... we are independent contractors....no skin in the game." "Not at all." "open to a buy out." okay this is fucking golden

3:03 LMAO HEY the gang's all together

3:17 MILLIGAN USED A TRANQ GUN SHDJDJDHJD. Even if it's just a blow dart one it COUNTS

3:21 "Hello." what an entrance

3:27 fambly 🥺

3:56 MILLIGAN WHY DO YOU RUN LIKE THAT. Boy's high-kneeing

4:15 oh my gosh you could SEE her make the choice to sacrifice herself. Tears. TEARS.

4:33 shit. SHIT. MILLIGAN.

4:52 WHERE ARE STICKY AND CONSTANCE

4:55 oh now the opening plays? After that shitshow???

6:02 this is fucking strange

6:28 twi-night by stephanie meyers, coming soon to a theater near you

7:10 while I agree that there are people in the world who refuse to be happy, people who dont want to their brain chemistry to be chemically altered with some kind of high-risk strain of hypnosis dont fall into that category

7:19 Nicholas I swear to god if you dont appreciate number two the way she deserves

8:30 I love the artistic prowess, the peels are adorable 😂

8:46 WE'RE DOING THIS??? WE'RE FOLLOWING THE DUSKWORT PLOTLINE?????

8:59 the comment about the clothes being too tight was, uh. Not necessary. Dont love that

9:46 "Good. Are you prepared to do it?" That is the question, and I'm really not sure what the answer is. I dont think Mr B knows the answer either

10:09 damn, they're really getting into it 😂

10:20 "Ha." MILLIGAN

11:09 "I'm sorry. I'm not helping." "Dont apologize, if you're feeling something, it's okay, say it!" First of all, queen behavior from Rhonda once again. Second, PLEASE. Reynie has been bottling up his feelings since day fucking one, let the boy vent

11:37 "and angry." "At what?" "Myself." Hoooo boy we're getting into it

11:51 "more. Louder." YES LET HIM YELL IT OUT

12:09 glad he's getting this out but why rip off the vest 😂😂😂 what did the vest do to you

12:10 DAMN LMAO scream it out!!!

12:26 "how did that feel?" "Good. Strange, but good." Yeah it's strange because you bottle everything up

12:51 how did they manage to hitchhike on a chicken truck. How did they get here 😂

13:36 I thought people outside the compound didnt receive the technique thing, but this guy seems pretty frozen

14:21 that inn seems like it's right in front of them, why did they just notice it now lol

14:30 that front entry looks adorable.

14:38 weird vibes from these two

15:04 "a commitment to all things cozy." Cheers to that, and roll credits!

15:38 awww, I love the mug cozies :) I tried to make those one time, but you have to be very careful because if you make them wrong bc it will literally never come off of the mug and you'll never be able to get it entirely clean or dry because of the yarn LOL

16:28 how much are they about to charge these kids for room and board, because I hate to break it to you but they're flat fucking broke

16:45 dumbass didnt realize that a pushpin would keep the globe from turning. Definition of book smart versus street smart

16:59 I was thinking about this earlier, Curtain has had no interaction with Miss Perumal, there's no reason he would recognize the name or know her significance

17:23 I like how he was so sure that Miss Permual's story was a cover when it's just. True.

17:49 oh here we go, they're gonna tell him

18:11 two things:

1. Shoot your shot, you're probably doing better than Marlin anyway lol

2. I love how hard they're trying to break the news gently, but it's not going to work with the monstrous temper on that guy 🥴

18:37 is he calling the victims weak-minded? Like what's the founding in that? Also, that still makes it a side effect of the happiness cult

18:42 "and ethically, their medical condition cannot be shared with the others" he said hipaa laws, bitch

18:59 daaaamn.

19:05 "I dont trust this doctor. Find another one." Maybe that's why he hired Marlin, they're two sides of the same coin. He said the same thing

19:28 "is this the silence of consensus?" "I dont need protecting." Okay two things:

1. Kate's fierce independence is rearing its head, girl basically raised herself and now she has to get used to letting people have her back. I had to do the same thing growing up. Love to see it.

2. I'm sorry but Milligan's sass is the funniest fucking thing to me, you go boy

19:40 "I am careful." "You fell off a cliff. carefully?" book!Milligan cant really say anything about that one, but show!Milligan can 😂

19:51 "I was alone for a really long time. I had to learn to take care of myself." THERE IT IS.

19:56 "and then you just...showed up!"

20:17 "ARE WE PREPARED TO WIN??" Martina I love the energy you're bringing, but please read the room 😂😂😂

20:20 LMAO YOU GO GIRL

21:00 oh baby I know you're young but I KNOW you did not just do that

21:28 I dont think roasting your hosts is going to get you very far

21:42 yeahhhh I'm with Sticky

21:50 okay so every arc is coming to a peak right now, damn

22:10 tell me this isn't about to be another tv special

22:12 ughhhh

22:38 I dont like this

22:49 creepy. I guess that's how people outside the compound get recruited

23:12 "could I have predicted that Elena would start instead of me? No one could. Because it makes no sense." I love the shade 😂 she's so passionate

23:27 "but no matter what goes down, I'm glad we got to hang out again."

23:34 Madge's honor, that's adorable

23:57 "but standing by if you need me...while also giving you space" I love him so much hahahahah

23:59 THEIR FACES HAHAHAHA

24:03 YES MARTINA GET THROUGH TO HER

24:18 Martina's parents not putting in effort to get to know her explains why she tried so damn hard in school- to get their attention

24:22 "Your dad's trying."

24:56 god he's about to see her and not have any clue wtf is happening

25:22 that poor man

25:57 it's so alien hearing her say such high praise 😂

27:07 I'm so glad they were able to blow up at each other, and now they can actually talk through it. That's so important.

27:33 RHONDAAAAA

27:13 "I'm confused too. But I love you just the way you are." My daddy issues are QUAKINGGG.

27:50 god Reynie doesnt even know and Milligan's trying to break it easy

28:14 "wait, did you just call me sticky?" That's right, she only ever calls him George or George Washington

28:33 the fucking pose 🥴 corny bastard

28:46 "my failure at the Institute shattered me as a man" really? Couldnt tell from the desperacy to prove yourself

29:18 what is that coat thing??? Fugly

29:47 he looks so stupid in the hobo clothes

30:20 why are they both so weird and stiff

30:56 and this is the reason Reynie's joke landed last season- both of their senses of humor are broken 😂

30:59 STOP SHE LOOKS SO SCARED

31:28 oh damn, how did they even know her to recommend her? That's interesting

32:01 "we forgive you." They have the creepy twin thing nailed

32:11 THE PATS

32:19 Martina you sneaky snake 😂😂

32:57 we love a responsible girl. Or at least slightly responsible

33:02 SGDJDHDJDJ HER FACE WHEN SHE REALIZED, THE TENDERNESS, THE FACT THAT KATE NEVER INITIATES INTIMACY,,,,

33:11 "I'll see you down the road, friends." PLEASE tell me that means she's planned for S3

33:44 the sideeye he just gave her 🤨

34:10 oh he is so gonna blow it

34:17 funky looking pot. I like the colors

34:54 dude

35:24 so this is his plan, sic the kid on her

Wow, what an episode. Overall, good!! Lots of action, character arcs are moving towards resolution. Didnt love some of the side commentary, especially those couple weight jokes. That was tasteless and unnecessary. But generally things are falling into place. I cant wait to watch episode 7!

[jules-and-company]

episode 4 : the aliens handing in a warrant to arrest « a member of your party » and there’s a look between jim spock and bones that translates to « did any of you commit war crimes as of late ? ». aw bones no it’s your fault we all know that. also they’re all so ready to hold hostage a diplomatic member of a neutral planet to get their way to prove bones’s innocence.

this show ain’t real part i’m stuck in eternal torture

and now everyone except spock has a motherfucking plague. and spock is breaking bones out of jail. HE FINALLY SAID THAT HE WAS A DOCTOR AND ADDED NOTHING BEHIND, AT LAST. of course bones didn’t cause any plague, and saved everyone’s asses again. and then spock commenting that bones has been slacking off on his duties recently because he was IN ACTUAL JAIL, « hippocrates wouldn’t have accepted lame excuses, doctor » « WHY THAT- THAT- jim, if i’m ever in jail again, don’t send that vulcan to release me. just let me rot ! » and jim just bursting out laughing : peak mcspirk. (also who knew the jim tas meme came from that specific scene and it’s him laughing).

episode 5 : they’re being attacked again. give them a goddamn break. KUKULKAN ??? imagine being in sickbay talking to the CMO and then he just. vaporises out of existence. those are one too many sudden abductions by a higher power for what i suspect is the fifth year of the five year mission, please dear holy jesus can we stop encountering gods. please. why can’t we meet a peaceful god too.

scotty animal lover confirmed

also bones and scotty are the first ones to say « you’re done. you’re so done » when kukulkan orders them to submit, i love my boys. spock’s « hold on to your seats kids we’re gonna blast wrap so hard we’ll be thrown thousands of lightyears away » and nobody fucking bats an eyelid. jim you absolute DUMBASS why do you go touch the 2,000 volts attacking wildcat ? you should be dead but alas you have plot armor

*tearing up* let him keep it. let him have a little kitty. he deserves it

and they cite shakespeare. finally a relatively normal episode.

episode 6 (THANK FUCKING GOD) : BABEL AGAIN ??? STOP IT WITH THE FOLLOW-UP EPISODES PLEASE BE ORIGINAL. bones’s rizz is off the charts. « oh doctor, flattery will get you everywhere » damn right that’s my man right here. they go directly into a supernova were everything is reversed, from the ship’s controls (thoughts and prayers for engineering) to actual time. wtf. TIME GOES BACKWARDS AND THEY ALL GET YOUNGER ???

finally i’m outta here. i’ve been personally traumatised and simultaneously love this show. watch it and suffer

aye you thought i was done with tas ? i will never be free from this torment.

season 2. unfortunately. maybe after watching that i can finally move on and stop being haunted by this fucking stupid cartoon

episode 1 : spock deadly ill, another one for the follow-up episode bingo.

jim, calling starfleet command : pickuppickuppickup

starfleet command : oh my god what do you want

jim : RING RING MOTHERFUCKERS ALL HANDS ON DECK MY BOYFRIEND IS DYING

starfleet command : again ?!?!?

bones, it's been four seasons. we know you care about him. "don't worry, we'll get the cure soon" there's twenty minutes left of the episode out of twenty-seven. will you though. "what good are doctors even are ? without our drugs and technology, i might as well be practising in the middle ages." "if you really believed that, bones, you wouldn't still be practising after 25 years." can y'all stop. with bones's complicated relationship with his job. please. oh and there's bomb asteroids too. oooh girl you know it's about to go down when jim kirk starts citing precise passages of diplomatic conferences. you know how you can tell that bones was WORRIED SICK that this time they would really lose spock ? because the second he's better they start arguing about whose constitution is better between vulcan and human (and spock of course saying he prefers vulcan) and bones just goes "he's as stubborn as ever..." and has the most sincere, warm laughter. thank u tas for this and solely for this.

episode 2 : shady "observer" aboard the ship, call him lego alien the way his body is detachable.

it's only now that you ask yourself this question ?

this show isn't real

and now they're talking to god. not that it's unusual

kirk and spock : *are in danger*

scotty :

"i am humbled" brother I am humbled by the amount of madshit crazy content i've been absorbing for the past four hours.

episode 3 : it has been exactly seven seconds of episode. they're already being attacked. romulans btw. they're going through an big ass energy fold and scotty is WORRIED

they're having a little party <3. "we used to pull that off all the time at medical school, with trick glasses" sir respectfully what the fuck were you doing back at the academy when you weren't studying. you know the crew is T I R E D when food falling off of your fork is enough to send an entire table of senior officers into a fit of laughter.

this show ain't real part 2

whoever is waging the prank war is DETERMINED. i love that bones uhura and sulu seem to regularly have time-off together, besties. there's a holodeck ??? i fucking knew it ! they never showed that on tos but i fucking knew it was there. it's the ship's computer who became sentient who's waging the prank war, not only does it have terrible humour but it also said "fuck around and find out" to spock. jim cannot believe he's being sassed by his own ship's computer. "when i find out who's the clown behind all this, i'll put him in sickbay for a week !" is the most bones threat ever.

this show ain’t real part 3

why is bones so weak to the cold like my man is always « leave me alone to die i’m frostbitten anyways ». the enterprise truly is a little fucker because now she’s getting revenge on the romulans by sending them on a wild-goose chase after an enterprise-shaped balloon. jimmy boy why are you having a panic attack on bridge ??? how it was a counterprank.

[corrodedcoffinkid]

could you do a fic about eddie dealing with teachers refusing to accommodate him?

“Edward Munson, I said put them away.”

“But I-”

“Put them away!”

Eddie sighs sadly as he takes off his headphones. The class is really loud today, and he couldn’t concentrate. Too bad Mrs. O’Donnell didn’t really care about his ability to pay attention.

Eddie’s eyes look anxiously around the room as he hears what has to be thousands of sounds. The chalk on the chalkboard, the buzzing of the fluorescent lights, the whispers about his pleading with the teacher… it all comes crashing down on his senses.

So, he doodles. He takes out a piece of paper and begins doodling instead of jotting down notes. It didn’t matter- he’s taken this class twice already. He’s halfway into his drawing of ‘Eddie the Brave’ before the paper is snatched off of his desk.

Mrs. O’Donnell balls up the paper before tossing it into the trash. “What did I tell you about paying attention in my class?” she asks rudely, eyes wide with rage.

Eddie breaks eye contact, choosing to look at his feet instead. “My Uncle told Principal Higgins that drawing helps me concentrate. Higgins was supposed to tell you.”

“I can’t possibly see how doodling away useless nonsense about fairytales helps you concentrate! Whatever you’re doing isn’t working, and I’m positive I’ll be seeing you in my class again next year!”

Eddie’s hands clench, and his eyebrows knit together. “Well maybe if I could sit in this fucking class for longer than five goddamn minutes before you start targeting me, I could actually fucking pay attention.”

“Edward Munson, Principal’s Higgins’ office now!”

Eddie grabs his book bag and slings it over his shoulder. “Thank God! Maybe they’ll fucking suspend me and I won’t have to see your wrinkly, fucked up face for a week or two.”

Eddie pushes open the door to the Higgins’ office, and slings his back into the floor. “You know the number by now, Higgins. Please, humor my uncle and tell him that he needs to come all the way down here because I cussed out a teacher.”

Half an hour later, Eddie finds himself sitting next to his uncle in the principal’s office.

“Suspended for four days… won’t tolerate this type of behavior… unacceptable attitude…” is all Eddie really retains. Uncle Wayne sits in silence until the principal is done with his spiel. Then, he says, “None of you at this school know nothing about autism, do ya?”

“Sir, autistic or not-”

“My boy needs those headphones and those drawings to even think about learning, and you’re rippin’ ‘em out of his hands and expecting him to learn? You’ve lost your goddamn minds! I had to take off work to listen to a grown ass adult bully my nephew! This is ridiculous!”

Wayne grabs Eddie, and leaves, ignoring whatever Principal Higgins is saying in response. Eddie grabs his headphones, and pulls them over his ears. “So…” he says quietly, buckling his seatbelt, “Ice cream?”

“Son,” Wayne sighs sadly, “I’m sorry. I’d pull you out of this school in a heartbeat if I could.”

Eddie shrugs. “I’m survived this long. It’s okay, old man, really.”

“Well, you’re not in trouble in my book. I think you deserve some damn ice cream. What do you say?”

Eddie smiles, looking at his uncle in admiration. “Chocolate?

“If you insist, boy, if you insist.”

[suna-reversed]

Hello :)

Sukuna. fluff. Pretty please.

Could you write something about sukuna falling for itadori's best friend. You can throw some angst in there too because I am a masochist❤️

Sukuna x F! Reader 

oh god, this turned purely self indulgent halfway through. low key thinking of turning this into a series to give you the angst you deserve.

A/N: (reader is Itadori’s senior and is 18) (loosely inspired by the song “me and my husband” by mitski)

“And I am the idiot with the painted face

In the corner, taking up space

But when he walks in, I am loved, I am loved”

——-

- You had been one of the few poor senior students who had been victim to what had been Itadori’s “elevator pitch” for more people to join the occult club early back in high school. [the said “elevator pitch” being him jumping out at random people with a white bedsheet over his head saying “boo” as he handed you the club form]

- You didn't end up joining the club. But you somehow did end up getting joined at the hip with the chaotic mess under the white sheet.

- Whether it was you two rushing to the theatre to watch Jennifer Lawrence’s new movie,  or going to a revolving sushi place [only to get pocky from a nearby vending machine instead because revolving sushi is apparently expensive], Itadori Yuuji had become a comforting and very important presence in your life.

- So of course when he suddenly dropped out of your life, being the worried friend you were, you decided to poke around a little only to find out that he was...dead?

- Maybe a few months down the line, you would’ve started to slightly recover from the tragic news you had just gotten. Instead, what you got was your supposedly dead best friend popping up days later to tell you that he ate a finger and now he was the vessel for some centuries old curse,,,

- Um yeah...safe to say that Yuji did not expect you to go into the fit of emotions that you did [boy had the audacity to call you dramatic for fainting and then crying while hugging him once you gained consciousness] 

- some time passed and Yuji and you didn’t see each other much with him practically training to be the strongest jujutsu sorcerer. Still, simply happy to have him back alive, your brain managed to convinced itself that everything was still the same. 

- And it was when he’d sneak out a day or two from his heavy schedule and you’d be back to your normal routine of watching movies, stuffing your face with snacks, getting your face licked by the mouth on Yuji’s hand…

- ,,,wait what

- The first time the curse had made contact with you was simply out of annoyance of why the stupid brat even took the time to see someone as mundane as you so often.

- His plan was to simply scare you into leaving, knowing it would cause the brat pain.

- So he grabbed the opportunity when Yuji moved forward to brush off some popcorn dust on the side of your mouth, not only licking the side of your face but also being successful in slightly grazing his teeth against your tender skin. 

- Yuji had mentioned that being a vessel had caused some weird physical “abnormalities” for him. you didn’t understand it back then but at least knowing that had sort of prepared you for such an instance.

- So imagine the curse’s surprise [and an even further growing annoyance] when your eyes barely widened for a second before you burst into laugher, 

“Didn’t you train your dog to not bite?”

- by now, Yuji had jumped 5 feet away from you and was still halfway through his string of apologies, but upon hearing your reaction, he mused on your fake calm while letting out a chuckle himself, 

- “Guess I’ve got to get a leash for him” 

- By this point, the ever so indifferent curse had taken two teenagers talking about him like a mere annoyance as a personal challenge.

- And that’s how it started.

- He’d come out every now and then, licking your fingers as Yuji passed you something or making lewd remarks on anything and everything that you ever started a conversation about. 

- But you and Yuji barely paid him attention and it was an understatement to say that it infuriated the living hell out of him.

- Particularly you, who wouldn’t even be annoyed or sarcastic about his tactics anymore. Instead, treating him like a friend who was simply joining you and the brat to hang out. 

- He hated it. Hated how bright your laugh was. Hated how you made them stop every time you saw a stray animal just so you could pet it. Hated how your skin was as soft as a cloud and how you sometimes smelled like cherry blossoms. He’d kill you in an instant if he could ugh.

- it was a weekend and Yuji and you had been watching a movie, even though Yuji was barely paying attention. You knew he was tired as his large frame slumped over your shoulder. Pulling the blanket up to his face, you once again felt the wet feeling of the assaults you had grown familiar with on the side of your hand.

- “You could’ve just asked for a pocky if you wanted one, no need to lick it off my fingers you grumpy little thing”, you laughed as you stood up to go to the bathroom

- that snapped the final string. 

- Coming back into your living room, you wondered if Yuji had somehow gotten up in his sleep and managed to draw weird black lines over himself all in the span of 5 minutes. 

- ‘Yuji, what the fuck?’

- ‘Well well, now who’s acting like a grumpy little thing’ 

- The deep voice sent rumbles down your spine and you knew in an instant what had happened. 

- Even though your breath hitched in your throat and your body begged for you to run as fast away as you can, you held your ground as you simply tilted your head at the curse 

- “Well, I’d like my best friend back if you don’t mind.”

- You saw the smirk on Sukuna’s face falter for just a second before he crossed the space between the couch and you.

- Now as strong of a front as you managed to hold up until now, watching something like that stride straight towards you would have had even the strongest of sorcerers shitting bricks.

- Instinctively, you took a few steps backwards, but he simply continued to close the distance between the two of you until you were backed up against the wall.

- You flinched as he slammed a hand right next to your head and he seemed to gain immense satisfaction from that as he looked down at your startled face with a smirk plastered on his tattooed face. 

- Sukuna was sure that you’d be begging for his mercy any second now. His smirk widened and he was ready to mock your pleas as he saw you open your mouth to say something, 

- “ ...so much for a damn pocky.”

- All those other times you had caught the curse off guard were nothing compared to the “partially-confused partially-baffled” expression that he held on his face now. It almost made him look human. Almost.

- You didn’t realise just how long you were holding his gaze until Yuji took back control and apologized like a million times over, reassuring you that he would’ve never let you get hurt. 

- The curse didn’t show up for almost a week after that. And while you were grateful for not having to wash off your hands or face 14 times a day, you somehow felt anxious about its sudden disappearance. 

- All those worries were thrown out the window as he once again showed up while Yuji was passed out on the couch after a particularly tough session with Gojo sensei.

- Looking at the curse, you felt anger more than anything, how could he just drop out on you with no warning and then show up in the middle of your living room- ...wait a second, why the hell are you mad at a literal curse for not telling you he was taking a mental health break or whatever it was that he was doing? 

- While you sorted out through these conflicting thoughts in your mind, the curse seemed to be going through a similar crisis. 

- Having woken up in the brat’s fragile human body with no warning whatsoever, Sukuna wasn’t in the mood to see your face so soon again. He didn’t know why your physical presence unsettled him so much. All he knew was that he hated it. Even more now that he knew what you looked like all scared and small compared to his vessel’s towering build, and how you smelled even sweeter than what he had tasted, and how despite all that you still had the courage to stand up to someone as dangerous as him. Ugh, disgusting. 

- “The stupid brat passed out.”

- Such a simple statement caused you to snap your head up at him. But he didn’t wait for your reaction as he somehow managed to plop down on the couch while still looking graceful. Picking up the half eaten box of pocky, he warily pulled one out, eyeing it as if it was  a poisoned dagger before breaking off a piece and placing it on his tongue.

- “This is what you would risk your life for, brat?” 

- He turned his head slightly to look at you still frozen in place, staring at him with that doe eyed look that made his chest burn a little. Isn’t this what he wanted all along?

- “Are you simply going to stand there and gawk? I don’t bite-...well, not unless you ask me to.”

- He knew that would set you right back to your usual self,

 - “...maybe we do need to get a leash after all.”

- Sukuna internally grinned as he saw you move to the other side of the couch, ready to hear whatever more of the snarky comeback that you’d have (not that he was anticipating it, it was just the better alternative to being gaped at. Or so he told himself)

- “You ate the non chocolate covered part of the pocky by the way-”

- “As if a layer of this disgusting brown substance can make the rotten stick taste bette-”

- “Well aren’t sticks all you had to eat in yOuR TiME anyways?”- 

—-

- You somehow managed to fall asleep after the bickering, proceeding to sit in silence after you told him to not bother you while you tried to read. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were a little disappointed when he actually didn’t. Instead, he sat on the couch with a slight smirk still plastered on his face, continuing to simply gaze at you. your heart did lunges every time you slyly looked up from your book to take a peak at him. you wondered how many ways he had come up with to kill you so far. 

- On the other hand, the curse sat idly, watching you while his thoughts rumbled in his mind. Maybe killing you can be pushed off the agenda for now. There are much better ways to hurt the brat anyways aren't there? Perhaps he could use one of these brownish covered sticks to-...what is he thinking?

- He ultimately deems it stupid brat’s humane emotions and sheer stupidity that must be interfering with his thoughts.

- A loud sneeze snaps him out of his daze as he sees you slumped against a pillow, your book falling off your lap. And then he does something that he immediately decides that he would pretend to have not done for the rest of his existence. Luckily, the brat takes back control right after he does it anyways.

- But that thought slips his mind as he finds himself replaying the serene look on your face as he gently pulled the book out of your hands, and how his hands shook a little as you nuzzled your nose into the fabric of the blanket that he pulled over you. How could you have felt so calm around him?

[djarinsbeskar]

Foul - Boxer!Din AU

Definition - To break one of boxing’s rules (i.e. hitting an opponent below the navel, ear or while they are down), which can ultimately lead to point deductions if they are repeated.

A/N: The results of my Boxer!AU poll told me that the majority were interested in a jealous/protective boxer so I hope I have delivered! As always, relaxed fit = unedited, no beta. We also have a sneaky introduction to Paz in the Boxer verse which is super exciting! His concept art has been completed by the insanely talented @ronnieiswriting when I said I saw a mix of Jason Momoa and Winston Duke as our heavy. PLEASE heed the warnings in this chapter. There is nothing explicit but the topics hinted at might be triggering.

Word Count: 7k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: SMUT! (unprotected sex), blood and violence, toxic masculinity and derogatory speech, hints at discussions of non-con, somewhat possessive behavior, spanking, dom!Din and everything that comes with it.

Main Masterlist | Boxer Materlist

He might as well have been in hell. A colosseum of decaying humanity and dirt floors that erupted in a burst of dust like poisonous ash every time his next opponent fell. The hollow thump of pure muscle meeting the ground of the makeshift ring only drowned by the cheers of spectators. Masked, shadowed—unseen as they dropped hundreds – thousands sometimes – on which gladiator would remain standing in the end.

He felt like a king, a god among men within the confines of his realm of rope and canvas. It was easy to forget—standing under the spotlights that highlighted the sweat and blood and sculpted beauty of primal masculinity that it was a hollow victory any time he fought in the seedy underground rings of Akiva.

Every gladiator was a slave. Even the victor.

Why the fuck did he think it was a good idea to let you come to one of these fights?

“Enough!”

Paz’s unassailable strength banded around Din’s chest, pinning his arms to his side—attempting to contain lightning in a glass jar. Sweat, blood—it all dripped into Din’s eyes as he growled at his opponent, passed out in the middle of the dirt ring—face swollen and puffy from Din’s fists.

Laser focus and animosity spilled from charcoal eyes as he tried to break free of his friends hold with a vicious yank forward of powerful shoulder and an unfaltering purpose. The bastard had it coming. One round a few punches wasn’t enough to slake Din’s anger, the fumes of rage seeping into his skin and clouding his senses until all he could think of was making the asshole on the ground before him pay.

The practiced speed that Din wrapped his hands slowed at the rowdy group on the other side of the room. Dammit, for all the money they brought in, could these cheapskates not provide separate fucking changing rooms so he didn’t have to be subjected to idiots jacking themselves up on testosterone and false hope?

But pissing contests and fragile masculinity weren’t what caught his attention. He could tune that bullshit out like a fine art. What caught Din’s attention was the obvious death wish one of his possible opponents had – if he even managed to get that far up the ranks to Din – when he waved a red flag in front of the boxers’ metaphorical bull.

“See that one in the front row? You know the one I’m talking about.”

Bawdy agreements and asinine gestures raked up Din’s spine, thorny—and prickling nerves of instinct that made him pause the music blaring in his ears. He fucking hated the scum he came across in these fights. Gang members, criminals—the dredges of humanity he sometimes worried he was part of.

“Gonna get her on her knees choking on my cock before the night is out. Sluts like that love titles, champions—why else do they attend? Good excuse to win tonight, eh fellas?”

“Do you wanna completely destroy your career?” Paz yelled over the chortles and raucous cheers for more, for revenge—for everything under the poor fallacy of a sun that strung in dim, bald bulbs along the notoriously infamous Avika fighting ring.

Din thought you would be safe, arrogantly assuming people would avoid even looking at you once they saw who you were with. And you had been—you were safe, but even he couldn’t protect you from the thoughts of others.

The larger man struggled with him, dragging him out of the ring when it was obvious his words were falling on deaf ears. All Din could hear was the little pricks voice in his head from hours before.

Din stood.

Inhaled, exhaled—tried those bullshit breathing exercises that were supposed to focus his mind before a fight. Help to rein in a temper like his from overflowing in devastating tidal waves to destroy all around him. Din didn’t lose his temper often—but when he did, it was lethal.

The breathing exercises didn’t work.

Because the idiot kept talking.

“Did you see the ass on that?”

Leers sounded from his group of friends. Encouraging the vile words that Din always knew came from a man who felt entitled to a woman’s body. He had seen enough of the underbelly of the world to know what that led to time and again. Din might have been shameless in his youth and even until recently when it came to sex, to one night stands, to women—but he fucking respected the girls he fucked or didn’t fuck.

“Traipsing around in a dress like that? She’s looking for the attention,” the asshole defended himself when one of his party voiced an alternative point of view. They were promptly shut down and didn’t speak again.

Din’s blood turned to ice. An image of you running a hand down his arm on your way to your seat when you parted ways for him to get ready, dress sinfully tight but effortlessly classy—a zip front he was dying to pull open with his teeth later that night.

“It’ll look so good with my cock buried in it…”

The ice in his blood turned to fury, white hot and molten as he tied off the tape at his wrists—throwing the roll into the dingy locker he had been given for the evening. The clatter of noise from where it slammed against the metal back was the only warning he was planning on giving them. The lull of conversation was fleeting, his warning going unheeded—when dim-witted morons didn’t read the murder in his gaze.

Looks like they weren’t nearly as intelligent as the pigs he thought them to be.

Grabbing his water bottle and phone, Din stalked towards the chipped door—distracting himself with a text of “don’t go anywhere alone in this place, sweetheart. Ask Paz to go with you” sent to you without a second thought.

The immediate response of “Yes yes I know, for the thousandth time. Don’t worry and focus on yourself” did little to assuage the roar of blood in his ears. There was only one thing he heard over the noise, one thing as his vision became hued in red and fixated on a single target.

“Wonder if she’ll let me fuck her there too—can’t imagine she’s a virgin but her ass will still probably be tighter than her cunt.”

Bald headed and littered in scars and tattoos of a gang known for their viciousness, the other boxer – if he could even be called that – thrust vulgarly into the air, mimicking the hold he would have on the girl. Din’s girl.

The fucker had a death wish.

And Din was only too happy to play the part of the grim reaper.

His friends voice hardly registered over that same ringing in his ears, the roar of protective aggression at the lecherous sneer on the other man’s face who now lay in a heap in the dirt, the filth he spewed about his masseuse, his girl. How beady eyes, cold and villainous dared to drift away from Din before the bell sounded—over his shoulder, to where he knew you were sitting. Knowing your body had been tainted by the gaze of a man who would sooner take what he wanted from you by force than look at you with anything akin to the respect you deserved—it made something snap inside of Din.

And he attacked.

He was lucky he had only been disqualified.

He was damn lucky no one called the cops.

But the perks of underground fighting, was that everyone who attended had something to hide. And no one wanted to be caught in the middle of shady transactions or betting on fighters to beat each other to a pulp. Hell, the savagery Din subjected the other guy to was exactly what half the fuckers who showed up hoped to see.

Din wasn’t just a nameless street fighter though, not anymore. He had something to lose. Any smear on his record for assault and he would be suspended from tournament participation quicker than the asshole’s body dropped after a crushing blow under the jaw by Din’s right uppercut.

Thank fuck Din’s main sponsor was equally as shady. A good man by Din’s logic, but merciless when it came to succeeding. Din being benched was the surest way to make his benefactors patience run out. No, Paz was right—Boba even more so when he clocked Din good in the cheek after Paz wrestled the irate male out of the ring.

“You fucking idiot, bloodlust is an ugly image, boy—”

“I am not a boy—” Din snapped at Boba, teeth bared and bloody from his split lip, neck straining when he spat the words viciously at his long-time coach. He ran his tongue over the metallic tang of blood before spitting it out of his mouth onto the dirt flooring by the chaotic rows of metal seating.

“You almost killed a guy in the ring, you little shit,” Boba snarled with equal venom, matching the anger reflected in Din’s gaze with furious sense Din didn’t want to witness.

“Let me go,” was all Din growled, eyes never leaving his coach’s even when Paz loosened his arms around his chest. Heaving, coal black eyes darkened dangerously and stabbed the former boxer with a dare to try and restrain him again. The other man shook a rope of dreadlock that had come loose from the strip of leather he kept his hair tied in and made to say something when Din interrupted,

“Where is she?”

Paz closed his mouth, heavy brows furrowing over his eyes as recognition dawned in their dark hues,

“Is that what this is about? Dammit, vod—it’s not like she’s your girlfriend, isn’t that what you always say?”

“Don’t fucking try me tonight—” Din snapped aggressively, the threatening hum between the two men charged to dangerous voltage.

“Din?”

Your voice washed over him – aloe on the burns his fury had scorched his skin with – and he was making his way over to you in the next moment, mind battling with instinct as he ignored the calls and curses of his friends.

Mine.

Not yours—

Mine.

He moved with feral grace, parting the sea of people who bleated from the sidelines but cowered in his presence once his attention was facing them and there was no canvas or rope to separate boxer from spectator. They were lucky. He didn’t see them. Would step on them if they were stupid enough to stay in his path. All he could see, was you—watching him with confusion and concern marring those pretty features, absent of fear in the face of an incensed, adrenaline fueled boxer post fight.

He exhaled a growl as he came to stand before you, the sound cavernous and deep in his chest—the hands you had lifted to examine his face intercepted by his own when he grabbed them. His fingers wrapped fully around your wrists, and he was reminded of how fragile you were – even if you worked out whenever you could and had a will of iron that would make you whack him for saying that – and just how easily a man like him, any of the fighters here tonight—could hurt you.

Never.

They wouldn’t dare.

Not with him around.

But how could they know?

How would they know to stay the fuck away from you?

Knuckles stained with dirt and blood; his hand rasped against the softness of your palm as he dragged you in the direction of the unused backstage waiting room fighters had been offered as a changing room. Where this whole fucking thing started.

“Din—Din, what the hell happened up there?”

You jogged behind him to keep up with his pace, long legs taking him farther than your shorter ones could when confined to the heels you had worn for the night out. He stalked through the dimly lit corridors to the flaky, chipped door with a temporary sign on lined paper with “ATHLETES” scrawled along the front of it like some ironic joke.

He almost bent the worn, cheap metal handle in half—nearly pulled it from its socket with how hard he tore the door open and dragged you over the threshold inside.

You whirled on him with a huff, eyes flashing and hands planting on your hips in growing annoyance.

“Din will you just—”

You didn’t get another word out.

His wrapped hands cupped your cheeks between them, his mouth on yours hungrily when he bent over you. Biting, clawing, desperate—the kiss was more a battle of tongue and teeth than anything else. There was nothing soft, nothing slow or affectionate about the way his teeth sank into your bottom lip so hard you gasped. The way the blood seeping from his split lip painted yours in a crimson rouge—smeared and varnishing you in a visceral mark of his claim.

“Mine,” he snarled unknowingly into your mouth, lapping his tongue along the prairies of your tastebuds, plundering the depths of your mouth to brand every inch of you he could reach. Inside and out. His hands had the same idea, forming down over the shape of your curves as he walked you back blindly to the disused vanity pushed against the closest wall. Topped with a row of mirrors undoubtedly used by performers for whatever this place had once been used for, the glass was now aged with discoloration.

It didn’t matter.

He didn’t have eyes for anything but you as he hiked your legs up to perch you on the edge, your fingers curled into the taut muscles at his neck and clawing down over the sweat slick muscles of his pecs—catching on flat nipples that made ripples of pleasure heat his body further. Mad him tangle a hand in your hair, yank your head back harshly and meet your eyes with dark desire before dropping to your neck. His newest target.

“Din…” your irritated, questioning tone had morphed to fervent sighs. His tongue mapped a trail from the corner of your mouth – tasting the tang of his own blood – to the rapid tattoo of your pulse, a delicate sheen of perspiration beginning to shimmer on your flushed skin from the arousal. Another layer of flavor for him to get drunk on.

So fucking hot under his hands.

So beautiful.

So his.

“Mine,” he repeated into the curve of your neck, framed by tremulous stretches of muscle either side that he carved with scrapes of his teeth to leave tracks of slow fading pink grazes before he bit into it. Your legs – already open and inviting him to settle between them – crossed at the ankles around his narrow hips to keep him close. It was fucking intoxicating the way he could make you feel, the desperate need he had for you.

Months of sleeping together, of knowing his body so intimately had given you a rare insight to his emotions whether he knew it or not. And you knew he didn’t need to talk right now, he needed to fuck. To work through whatever had affected him so badly in hard kisses and rough hands on your soft flesh. It didn’t stop your stomach from flipping at his possessive words though, deliriously spoken but whispering the unacknowledged desires you had for him beyond his body.

“Yours,” you admitted before you could stop yourself, your hand cupping under his jaw to lift his mouth back to yours. His raspy moan at your agreement turned positively filthy when you carded short nails through his damp hair. Din was weak to having his hair stroked, his staunch dominance buckling in violent shivers of pleasure when you dragged those skilled fingers down the back of his skull and neck.

Traipsing around in a dress like that…

His eyes flew open, and he broke the kiss—ripped his mouth from yours to press his forehead to yours, eyes searching while his free hand ran indulgently up your torso to the neckline of your dress,

“Never let anyone disrespect you, sweetheart—” he rumbled, his fingers already undoing the zip of the dress, the nude pink material tempting to the eye and celebrating those features you were most proud of—that he found irresistible to know you loved. That someone could make you uncomfortable in those clothes… fucker. He snarled and pressed a long kiss to your mouth, large hands spreading the sides of the dress open wide – no underwear, baby? – and shucked the material down your arms to leave you bare before him.

His appreciation for your body – fucking gorgeous – was only tampered by the frustration he had with himself at the noise of confusion you made at his words. Of course, you hadn’t heard anything that asshole had said thankfully—but fuck, he couldn’t get it out of his head. You read his desperation somehow, and nodded slowly with puzzled eyes, teeth sinking into your swollen bottom lip as you leaned back on your hands.

So trusting…

Fuck.

It made alarm and something akin to fear rise swell uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

“Never let anyone take advantage of you,” he whispered against your mouth in earnest, his hands running up your bare thighs to press his thumbs into the seams of your legs and hips, “tell me—”

His mouth dropped to your collarbone, funneling those feelings into lapping down to your heaving breasts, sucking a nipple into his mouth with a groan and befuddling your mind to his request until he nipped the swollen peak – say it, baby – and caused your head to fall back against the mirror,

“Yes—yes,” you moaned, “I won’t—”

He snarled internally, dammit. Hearing you say it didn’t help. He wanted to say how he wouldn’t let anyone disrespect you, how he wouldn’t let anyone ever take advantage of you. But he couldn’t. Had to frame it like advice he would give any woman he knew instead of speaking it like the promise he wanted to make.

Din had been fucking you for the last few months now, exclusively after only a few months—but it never went beyond that. He had no reason, no excuse to be worried over your life or safety or what you did when you weren’t in his bed. He wasn’t expected to be involved in your life the way a friend or family member was. Not the way a boyfriend was.

He didn’t do relationships. Never had. Too much trouble and frankly—he liked his privacy, his space—and liked not being accountable to anyone but himself. The consequences of any shitty decisions he made would fall on him and him alone. If he demanded that of the women he slept with and then insisted on inserting himself into their lives in the next breath, he would be a hypocrite. And Din hated hypocrites.

He couldn’t.

But fuck. He never wanted to hear someone speak that way about you, never wanted them to think they had the slightest chance with a woman like you. His blood boiled at the notion of someone else’s hands on you, his tempered flared when he imagined your pleasure or smiles, or laughter give to someone who didn’t deserve you.

Like he did?

Fuck no, he knew he didn’t.

He never said he wasn’t selfish though, and he coveted you with sinful greed.

“Fuck me, baby—please, please—” you mewled into his neck as your hands that had started all of this with that first massage, fit into the sliver of space between your bodies to stroke along his cock over his shorts impatiently. His head fell back, and his mind blissfully emptied for a moment, grunting your name at the frisson of pleasure before those damned memories resurfaced again.

Look at the ass on that.

That.

Her. You weren’t a thing, a possession. You were—

He snarled. Misplaced anger manifesting in aggressive passion as he grabbed your wrist from where you stroked him to pin behind your back on the vanity.

“Always so eager, aren’t you—” he grinned darkly when you nodded, “turn around.”

The command was delivered low and dangerous, more a rumble of noise—deep echoes of jungle predators crackling like the kindling of threat, inspiring awareness that one wrong move would be fatal. But you never made a wrong move—not for as long as he had known you. Whether it was alleviating a pain deep in his muscles that had bothered him for months or pushing yourself slowing off the vanity to your feet as you were now—you always knew what he needed.

Wisps of hair fell into his eyes as he watched you—the decided turn of your naked body to dace the mirror—eyes never leaving his even as they caught them again in the aged glass. Bending forward, your ass pressed into the front of his shorts, and you rested your elbows on the vanity.

Perfect.

He didn’t realize he had whispered the word as he pressed his mouth between your shoulder blades, tongue trailing down the arch of your spine while his hands kneaded plush cheeks—spreading them and exposing your slick cunt to the cool air. The hitches in your breath, small squirms of your hips for relief—they all fed into his desire for you.

And he desired you. Constantly.

“I’m gonna eat your pussy until you can’t stand, baby—and then I’m gonna fuck you until you can’t speak,” he muttered against the shell of your ear, massive bulk bowed over your back and shadowed eyes – the duality of warm walnut and lethal obsidian – bore into yours through the glass.

“I want them all to know who you belong to,” he nipped your ear, flicking his tongue along the cartilage—the black ink on his back catching the light as his muscles rippled with movement, a roll of pleasure from your ass grinding back against him with a whimper of his name, “so don’t be quiet this time, sweetheart.”

Your eyes fluttered open molasses slow from where they had dropped closed at his words,

“What—what hap—” you tried to turn your head, the concern mingled with lust in those gorgeous, honest eyes making warning bells blare painfully – too close – and he silenced you with a kiss. Swallowing the worry that hinted at feelings that surpassed those expected from a fuck buddy, he buried it deep inside himself, in the shadows like a coward. To be locked away where he would remain safe from it.

Your tongue grew sloppy with a moan when he ground his crotch into your ass—dragging the solid thickness of his clothed cock between your soaked folds and up against your tight rear entrance.

Wonder if she’ll let me take her there…

Bastard.

He sucked on your tongue with a groan of your name, hand releasing your cheeks to fan up your ribcage and cup your breasts. You jerked in sensitivity when rough hands pinched sore nipples – he fucking loved how sensitive your tits got just before your period. The cry you released was nothing short of musical, tempting him lower as he kissed down your spine—wrapped hands sanding down over your ribs again when he lapped around the rim of your ass, circling it before he traced lower.

You were dripping.

He dropped to his knees behind you, eyes drunken with an ingrained pride that he was the one in this position, looking at the petals of your swollen pussy glistening with arousal he inspired from just a few kisses and rolls of his hips. He kept his eyes on the steady trickle of wetness from your twitching entrance, his teeth grazing distractedly down the back of your thigh as he did so.

A finger ruddy with flecks of dried blood caught a string of your arousal – don’t waste a drop – and he sucked it between his lips with an approving groan, the noise of your whimpers the perfect accompaniment. Blood and lust. The essence of humanity, that was what he tasted when he sucked his finger clean. It tasted like life. And he wanted more.

A sharp crack echoed through the room when his hand came down hard on one cheek, and again... and again—each strike making that dripping wetness gush until he couldn’t hold back anymore. He buried his face in your cunt, nosing at your entrance and tongue spreading puffy lips apart so he could trace in pitter patter swipes through your folds—greedily gathering anything he could get on his tongue before swallowing. Dehydrated on the sands of depravity and sordid company—your cunt was an oasis of relief where he eagerly drank his fill.

You tried to move, your hips slamming up against the edge of the vanity – that’ll bruise – and you keened with a shuddering cry when his mouth simply followed your attempt to escape the onslaught of pleasure that was too much too soon.

“Fuck—fuckfuckfuck—” you gasped, dropping a hand back to tangle in his hair, dragging him closer despite your protests. Mm, he loved when you got like this—overstimulated from the first touch. No matter how much you whined, no matter how many times he wiped tears that smudged your makeup when he unraveled orgasm after orgasm from the knots inside you—he knew you loved the intensity as much as he did.

He spanked you again – take it – your cheeks red and beautiful when he spread them side for him to spit directly onto your quivering cunt. His saliva dribbled and mixed with your juices to gather over your clit, his mouth forming over the little bud enthusiastically, urged by your slow ruts back against his face to streak his face with your essence.

“More—” you whimpered.

“Greedy—” he growled back.

The sound of your breathless laugh meshed delightfully with the swallow of a moan – guttural and primal – and made his cock twitch in his shorts. His hips snapped up uselessly from where he was kneeling—finding no purchase or warm embrace to bury itself in as his tongue took that pleasure for itself.

It licked and curled with practiced, seemingly illogical strokes along your clit and up to your entrance—sloppily kissing it before his tongue dove into your tight depths, thumb working in quick circles over your clit. He knew exactly what to do to make you come undone.

Your first orgasm was sudden—strong and surprising. He hadn’t even fucking fingered you and you were already spasming around nothing. Your muscles tensed as you went on your toes to lean even further on the vanity, trying to escape his tongue that worked you through each wave—drowning you in the pleasure he knew only he could give you. You were his. His his his his h—

You sobbed his name, a raw answer to his internal mantra his mind struggled against and failed to overcome.

Din wanted you.

He wanted your body, your mind, your time—he wanted what Paz had.

Fuck.

The way the older man mooned and gazed with shameless adoration for the little baker he had fallen for in so short a time. Hell, Din teased him over it constantly. And maybe he didn’t want that—but he wanted something. Din wanted something with you. Wanted you to visit him in the gym and stop him mid set just to kiss him and tell him that you would wait for him to finish so you could go home together. He wanted to buy you flowers without having to think of a fucking excuse like last time to distance himself from the sentimentality. He wanted to open his front door and feel our presence as more than just a visitor. That a toothbrush and the stray pieces of clothing you forgot at his place would turn to shoes at the door and your taste in décor mixing with his.

Din wanted you.

But he had no idea how to do anything but fuck you. He didn’t know how to date or be romantic. Was clueless to things like companionship—to the softer emotions he knew you craved. That all people craved. Din had no idea how to do any of it.

You lay with your cheek on the wooden surface of the vanity, eyes half-closed and spacey as you watched him lift his head from your pussy, face shiny from your release and when he licked over his lips, still hungry for more—you mewled.

“Don’t tap out on me yet, sweetheart.”

You shook your head, a whimper and almost childish refusal while your cheek remained plastered to the vanity, all strength having left your body and an adorable pout trying to lie and tell him you couldn’t take any more.

“Mm, yes you can—” he answered you, dragging his mouth back up your slit and along your tight ass where he lapped at the rim again. Later. It took time for him to stretch you to take his size—it was better left for when he had you in his apartment and could take his time.

His hand followed his mouths direction as it continued up to meet your mouth—smirking against your lips at the whimpers you made from the slaps he gave your pussy—the obscene, wet sound filling the area with each slap slap slap until his hand was damn near slipping every time he struck your cunt from how wet it was.

A bang on the door—a harsh slap to your pussy so you would moan just right for him, and he growled out a threatening “occupied” to whoever was outside. You were too high strung to even notice.

“No one else can have you,” he rasped darkly into your temple, his free hand tangling in the strands to pull your head back against his shoulder—the position no doubt edging on uncomfortable with the way your spine and neck were arched back—moUlded into his hard frame. Your eyes fell to half mast even as your lips parted—still smeared with specks of blood you hadn’t yet licked or chewed off—and he bit your jaw in warning.

“No one else—” you parroted, your hot breath fanning over his cheek even as you rocked back against him, a steel confidence entering your fucked out gaze—mercurial in the swirling heat, “just like no one else can have you.”

The boldness of your words, the conviction spoken in that voice of wooden flutes and bubbling creeks made his blood light with fire—yes. As much as he anted you, he yearned for you to crave him in return.

“No one else,” he repeated your words back to you, rutting his hips against you when his cock pulsed with a negligent ache that demanded to be addressed. He kept one hand in your hair when he pushed his shorts down enough to free his leaking cock, the turgid length swollen and angry as he rubbed the tip between your lips.

Maybe he would buy you flowers tomorrow, after all.

Din gave you no time to prepare yourself – that’s my girl – sliding inside you with one brutal thrust that had you pushed up against the mirror and his cock engulfed in fiery bliss. He felt the heat run up his spine, a volcanic metamorphism into marble as his muscles froze in an immediate pause to stop himself from spilling inside you after one damn thrust.

You weren’t doing much better—one hand clawing for purchase on the mirror and the other digging your nails into his hip as you panted his name, an incoherent string of curses and praise as your sensitive walls convulsed around him. The position had him pressed right against that one spot he cock curved up against that could make you see stars and your care for being caught dissipate in cries of ecstasy.

“Baby—fuck please, so—too deep—” you whimpered in inane babbles, tightening in residual spasms from your orgasm and the sudden intrusion of his cock, still a stretch after all these months. Too deep… he snorted, rolling his hips hard to try shove himself deeper still. He could never get deep enough, always wanting more—always seeking to conquer the untouched lands of your body.

“Mm, want me to stop?” he teased, dragging his hips back with a smirk at your immediate rejection of no no no fuck—please, no—hand pathetically trying to drag him closer to you by the hip. Lovely little thing… thinking you were strong enough.

“That’s better…” he purred, relief washing over him when he pulled out—the walls of your cunt stretching around him, refusing his exit, and trying to keep him nestled inside you. The pace he chose was brutal. He fucked you like he fought tonight. Violently, mercilessly—and deaf to the calls to relent. But where he wanted his opponent to suffer, he wanted to devastate you with pleasure, enrapture you with ecstasy and leave you moaning his name where others would curse it.

Wet cock slapping as he pounded into you in short, frantic ruts – need you baby… fuck I need you – there was no time for you to catch a full breath before he was knocking it out of you again. His fingers had to tighten in your hair to keep you up – your body trembling under his as he sank his teeth into the taut muscle at your neck and his cock sank into your welcome body – exposed and waiting for him to litter in his signature.

He would never get enough of the way his marks looked on your skin—the way you decorated him in yours. You were powerless to do much else than accept them right now – likely getting him back later – boneless and weak under the attack of his mouth and the dominance of his body.

He would make sure everyone in this fucking shithole of a place knew who you were with. They would have to be blind not to notice the blotches of poppy bruises snaking down your neck with the elusion to more hidden from unworthy eyes. The smudge of your mascara as tears pearled like crystals in the corner of your eyes when you glanced at him in strung out bliss.

“M-more—” you begged, dropping one of your hands between your legs to rub at your clit—fingers splitting around the girth of his cock as he fucked you to feel the thick length disappear into you over and over, the soaked mess amassed from your frantic desire for each other trickling down your thighs.

“Yeah?” he grinned, breathless and sweating for much more pleasing reasons than he had been in the ring, a languid kiss to your neck as he hiked one of your knees up onto the vanity—spreading you wider for him to sink deeper.

You spasmed, your head falling back against his shoulder with a cry.

“Yes—there, there baby, fuck you feel so good…” you rambled, fingers working feverishly over your clit in wet strokes, grazing his balls every time they slapped against your skin and making him muffle his moan in your neck.

Rolling a nipple between his fingers, his large—bloodied hand completely swallowed your breast, squeezing it and tickling sounds that belonged to him from you and into his mouth when you kissed him. One last kiss before you collapsed back onto the vanity, and he stood to his full height so he could ruin you with his cock.

His name was the only thing you remembered as he split you open with full, hard thrusts—the entire length of his cock stretching your tight walls around it and playing along raw nerves already on the brink of another orgasm.

“Gonna cum, sweetheart—” he strained, desperate for release as he watched himself fuck you in the mirror—him behind your smaller body, squirming under the pleasure while his muscles bunched and relaxed with each snap of his hips—the veins in his forearms prominent and tendons taut as he poured all that training and dedication and determination into you, into pleasing you.

“Inside—inside, Din fuck, please—”

His mind emptied. Nothing else mattered about tonight—not the fight, not the disqualification, not the rage. Your eyes—cloudy with lust and achingly trusting as you looked back at him were all he could think about. Nodding without even realizing, the thought of filling you running in his mind on a loop.

“Fuck—!”

He wanted you to cum before him, he always did—but he was so high strung, so tense that he couldn’t stop himself, burying himself to the hilt with several punched out moans—exhaled rapture with every pump of his seed against your waiting womb. Your eyes rolled closed at the amount, bloating you with his release and as he came, you worked your clit frantically—chasing that addictive edge you gladly hurled yourself over at just the thought of him coming inside you.

Din dropped his forehead to your shoulder with a gasp, your spasming walls too much on his sensitive length but he had to stay inside—the contractions of pleasure, the gush of your release might push his out. He couldn’t have that. So, he gritted his teeth, mumbled husky praise – good girl, that’s it—just like that, soak me – to work you through your orgasm and pressed open mouth kisses to sweaty skin, the salt tickling his tongue as he caught his breath.

His mouth worked over the sweep of your shoulder, up your neck to your jaw when your orgasm subsided, purring your name and nonsensical strings of words he had no idea made sense or not. He finally eased his softening cock out of you slowly when you shifted your hips—testing your strength and finding it lacking when you realized both he and the vanity were what kept your legs up.

“Feel… feel better?”

“Mhm…” he confirmed noncommittally, nuzzling the marks beginning to bloom and darken like a forbidden garden only he was allowed indulge in the scent of. One of his hands ran absently down the back of your thigh, feeling for his release—pleased to feel nothing but your sticky arousal, his own still nestled inside your sore cunt.

“Want one of those crepes you’re always raving about from that twenty-four hour place?” he purred, helping you stand—going so far as to pull the straps of your dress back up so that zipping the metal teeth would be easier. Your eyes brightened despite the lazy, satiated fatigue hiding in their orbs.

“Gino’s?”

“Mm,” he nodded, looking down from his greater height and lips quirking in an annoying desire to smile when one – bright as daylight – broke out on yours.

You nodded quickly, looping your arms around his neck to drag him down to your mouth, kissing him good and proper while his hands fell under the still open sides of your dress to settle on bare hips,

“Are you ever going to tell me what set you off tonight?” you mumbled against his lips cautiously, the ghost of a smile from the promise of dessert still lingering but a hesitant worry entering your gaze, unsure if his mood would sour again.

It didn’t.

He nudged his nose along yours, aquiline curve slotting along yours as he hummed in thought, thumbs rubbing lazily into your hips,

“Maybe later,” he settled on and captured your lips again.

You left the changing room together, his gym bag slung over one shoulder and his free arm wrapped around your shoulder—nose never leaving your temple or nuzzling into your hair with blatant affection as you blushed at how obvious it was to anyone who saw you what you had been doing.

You had both tried to tidy yourselves—cleaning the corners of your makeup and trying to flatten your mused hair was about all you could do. Din didn’t even attempt to cover the freshly fucked look of messy hair and heavy eyes as he pulled an unzipped Mythosaur Gym hoodie on over his muscle shirt.

A group were passing in the corridor as you asked him something—his former opponent with one eye swollen shut from the bruises forming around his eye, jaw, and cheeks. Din answered you easily, an automatic response to whatever you were asking as his eyes met his opponents, cold fury and arrogant pride flashing in their depths.

You remained none the wiser as you passed the group, Din’s body protectively placed between you and them. He probably should have told you; he knew you wouldn’t be swayed by it—comfortable in your body as you were, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He could protect you from slander and toxicity at the very least—and he planned to. Even if he had to do so in the shadows for now.

For himself, the swelling and bruising on the idiots’ face weren’t the only thing he had to satisfy himself with. He was the one whose cum was still buried inside you, clinging to your thighs and keeping you slick and wet for him to add more to later when he got you back to his place. And as you glanced up at him with a disarming smile after he dropped his hoodie over your shoulders without a thought once you both were outside in the crisp air of the early morning darkness—he secretly hoped that he would be the only one to have that privilege from then on.

Taglist | Form

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[cynettic]

Stay with Me pt.3

Summary - You manage to escape from Scaramouche, if only for a moment before you realize there’s no escape. It only takes until you’re sitting back in your regular spot that you know what you need to do.

Pairings - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warnings - Suggestive content, mentions of death, swearing, slight gore / blood 

A/N - Its really hard to make this depressing while I’m vibing to Rasputin. Like no joke- I have it on one of the 1 hour playlists :D

Here you’ll find -  pt.1 and pt.2

He’d left a key.

Scaramouche didnt make mistakes, not while he had you captive in the vicinity of his bedroom. He didnt have room for mistakes, not when you were watching his every movement while he was in your line of sight. 

Sure, he mightve killed a person or two in front of you, but those were necessary mistakes. There was a sign on the door, it specified not to enter. You’d understand that, right?

Thats what he thought at least, lulling himself into belief after belief that you’d be there waiting for him every time. That you’d welcome him with open arms, even if there were chains ensnaring your wrists. That you’d accept your fate at his hands and submit yourself to him.

The Balladeer was a fool.

He’d kept you there for too long, and while you searched for an easy way to escape, time sent your head spinning. Into a spiral that begged only for the wind against your face, back laying on dirt with the familiar chirping up birds waking you up in the morning.

You wanted to go outside.

And when push comes to shove, you had to risk a little more to make it happen. Lure him into bed with kisses while your hands unbuttoned his vest. But what he believed to be alluring contacts was just your way of finding the keys hidden in the back pocket of his shorts.

It wasnt hard to find the one to your cuffs while he was asleep, cuddled in your chest with both arms around your waist as if to get you to stay put. You took the key, hiding them back in his clothing and hoping he didnt notice.

He didnt say anything the next day.

You werent going to wait any longer.

“Oh for fucks sake, why won't the goddamn door open?”

The room was left in tatters behind you, a little gift for Scaramouche once he got back. Turns out a pair of chains can smash up a lot of things, and rage can be used as a great source of strength when contained for such a long time.

But you’d done more than throw the blankets around, cut up the drawers and smash open the windows. Because your fists had bled red when you punched through the glass, puncturing your skin. Your knuckles were an ugly red, bruising already.

Ah, Scaramouche deserved a much better gift.

Gruesome as it was, you rubbed your knuckles against the pale walls. Till the blood stopped coming, till there was a nice little message for the boy which you held so dearly to your heart.

‘Balladeer.’

The first time you’d found out about him being a harbinger he’d told you not to call him by that name. You weren’t someone he associated with by work, you were a treasure to him. That’s why you continued to call him as he pleased, although the temptation always arose.

You were no longer his.

Shoving the door with your hand again, palm fiddling with the handle and groaning when it hardly budged. “Stupid,” you grumbled when the knob began to loosen. Backing up, you charged with your shoulder to the door, full force as the momentum broke the hinges. The door fell down with you along with it.

It was expected, you’d been stuck in the room for a long time, and thats considering you’d sat on the ground for decades. Your body was slight numb, muscles sore and unused for so long. 

“You a-arent supposed to leave your room!”

A young man stood in the hallway along with a woman who looked relatively the same age. The two were wearing uniforms, flinching when you stood up from the debris and off the door. “Excuse me?” You asked, voice unnecessarily icy and stern. But you couldnt care less, you were going to get out of this house, damn anyone who stood in your way.

They both continued to shake when you walked towards them, staggering from side to side. The woman stepped up in front of the man, presenting a brave face. “If you leave the mansion, the harbinger will kill us all!”

“Well then I expect you should be on your way then. Actually…” you gestured to the maze of hallways. “You can lead the way.”

“What…?”

Your hand went limp to your side, an exasperated looking momentarily crossing your face before you sighed. “Im not staying trapped in that room, I’m sorry if that ruins your life, but frankly you're not the one stuck in there are you?” You took an extra step just to intimidate them, eyes wide to make the appearance of crazy. “It would be a great help if you showed me where he hid my vision too.”

“We can show you to the door…” The man began, “But the whereabouts of your vision are unknown, he wouldnt tell us something like that.”

A gift bestowed from the gods, a piece to help me thrive with my ambitions and pursue my goals.

Gone.

You really wished you’d taken to clawing out Scaramouche’s face instead, but you’d take what you got. Right now your main priority was getting out of this place, even if it meant leaving a piece of you behind.

“Door.” Your voice was raspy and there was a terrible feeling that crawled up to your throat, but you didnt have time to be emotional. “Show me where the door is… please.”

The conflict in their eyes dissipates by the time they lead you along, mumbling words between themselves. You didnt bother to try eavesdropping, you were so, so tired. You wanted to go home.

Anywhere. Anywhere but here.

It took a few minutes until you were standing in front of a grand door, almost twice the size of you and just as wide. You then began to notice the decorational plants and furniture that filled the empty space, there wasn't an inch of dust. Even though you could tell none of it was used.

“Hurry,” the man warned when you paused. “I dont know when our master is coming back, but if its soon, we’ll all be screwed.”

You couldnt feel your head as you numbly nodded, hand clenching the knob and flinging the set of doors open. “Thank you,” you merely mumbled, taking your first step out of the house in what felt like forever.

The days after that were a blur, the area around Scaramouche’s house were nothing but void. Empty and filled with forests and vast plains. You knew he didnt like people or socializing in general, but to this extent?

Your only option was to run.

Let your feet take you somewhere, anywhere. It was a constant pattern of running and taking breaks, leaning on a tree and gasping in a few breaths before you were again scurrying through the forest. 

And yet you felt better than you’d felt in past months that you’d been stuck with Scaramouche.

Food became any boar you came across, the claws you’d spent so long hiding with Scaramouche coming to unleash a wrath beyond your comprehension. Till the animal was cut to shreds and no meat was left even to eat. You’d slaughtered it, without intention to eat or benefit for it, you’d killed it just to kill.

“I’m sorry,” you’d sobbed into the ground where you’d buried the harmless animal. Forehead pressed into the dirt as you pleaded for forgiveness to whatever archons would accept it. You couldn't even remember what archons you were supposed to pray to. “Forgive me- forgive me…”

But eventually you found your way around to somewhere you knew. Territory of Inazuma where you could find your way back, back home.

Where was home?

You’d been on the run from the vision hunt decree, abandoning your post for the Kitsune Saiguu for such a thing. Even now that you could return without a vision and as no threat under the decree…

You’d sacrificed everything for your vision.

Where were you to go now…?

Rain patted down, the trees providing only a slight cover as stray drops fell into your matted dirty hair. You didnt mind, it hid the tears that slid down your lifeless face, feet taking you into the far meadows of your hometown. Till you plopped down underneath a tree, knees curled to your chest and arms hugging them close. You were crying.

You were home.

____________________

“Awh,” a ginger haired murmured, elbow resting on the cool wood of the tabletop. “Is little Mouchie sad? I heard your kitty cat escaped~”

A death wish, even fatui that idly minded themselves around the bar knew it. Sipping cold drinks and swirling their cups, the soft chatter was nothing but a distraction from the main course of events. That being the smaller Harbinger who sat sulking in his seat, hunched over with a drink in hand. He’d drank far more than what was on the counter, but everytime he finished a glass, he’d smash it on the ground, watching the fragile glass shatter into pieces.

“I dont have a cat,'' was his only response, tone daring Childe to pursue further. To give him a reason to start throwing the glass in his face instead.

And Childe was an idiot when it came to challenging someone.

“No cat?” The rest of the drink in the taller harbinger’s glass was gone when he threw his head back. “Hmmm, I cant think of what else could’ve had you so enraptured in returning home then~!”

Scaramouche didnt respond, uneven bangs shadowing the bags under his eyes. “Stronger,” he said instead, elbow on the counter and hand outstretched for something. When there was no movement from the man managing the wine, the harbinger looked up. “I need something stronger to drink,” he repeated, voice seething.

“Of c-course!”

The glass was nestled in Scaramouche’s palm in no time, fingers curling around the circular form to down it in seconds. The drink merely slid down his throat in one movement, alcohol burning his senses. It didn’t matter, he was numbed by the growing rage inside of him.

Finally, he turned to the ginger haired boy, eyes hazily dancing along the counter till it reached his fingertips. Up his hand and along his arm, till Scaramouche was staring right into Childe’s eyes. “They escaped,” he admitted softly. “But it’s alright, because I sent something that’ll bring them back.”

Childe paused, raising his drink up away from his lips to pose a question. Hesitation danced along his features before he brought the glass back, he’d rather not provoke the shorter male any further. Wasn’t like he could interfere anyway.

____________________

“That… that…” 

It was preposterous, having returned to that same spot for a day or two and heading back to the hometown you’d once lived in. The one Scaramouche had lived in. There shouldn’t have been an issue, you were solely gathering supplies for the sake of it, ambition driving you to travel far far away.

Out of Inazuma.

It was your new beginning, convincing yourself that you didn't need a vision. Finding some sort of purpose before Scaramouche shattered the vision and your life along with it. You’d seen how people had reacted when it had been ingrained in the statue, neutralized and broken. They lost hope, purpose and aspirations for anything new.

It’s not like the Raiden Shogun took my vision.

But you’d taken that fact for granted, expecting some sort of new start without Scaramouche. A victory, getting away from him just for a split second and getting out of Inazuma altogether, you’d never see him again.

Until you got his message.

“How the hell…” You crushed the note until it was just crumbled paper in your hand, slowly leaning on the stone wall. “Piece of shit… what kind of person even…” 

Not only did he manage to find you, but without making his presence known, he’d tugged at your one weakness with an ease that had you down on your knees.

You threw the paper to the ground, deliberate as you stared past the alleyway. Pensive as you considered your options. Damn, what options did you even have? You’d been an idiot to underestimate Scaramouche, he wasn’t a child, you knew that… but archons he seemed like one when he was with you. Shown you a vulnerability he wanted only you to see. But maybe that had been part of his plan all along, until all you believed was his soft demeanor.

He may act like a child, but he’s a harbinger.

You stared down at the crumbled piece of paper in disgust.

Not only that, but he has no regard for human life.

Either way, you’d lived decades more than him. You could face him, you would present yourself to him just as he expected you to. Even when everything in you rejected the idea, sobbed at the thought of returning to that house, those chains. Being locked up and confined only for the purpose of coddling a small boy, a selfish boy, a cruel boy. 

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

You’d figure out a way, and this time you wouldn’t rule out the option of his death.

———————

Oh darling Y/n, how have you been?

I hope this letter reaches you rather soon, we both have much to discuss, no? About me, about you, and much more. You see, I’ve taken up quite a distaste to your little friends. Stone statues in Inazuma as small as Kitsunes truly hold no purpose, what will they do, come back to life? Haha, I should think not. I’ve already arranged to have them demolished, who knows what kind of material they might possess. Ah, and of course I’d show you the finishing product, unless you’re willing to come and have a chat with me once more? Under the Sakura tree like we used to, you’ve waited years, I believe you can wait for me?

I hope this letter reaches you in best interests. I’m always looking out for you after all.

Sincerely, your Balladeer

——————

It was raining.

Beautiful weather as you lay sitting there, feet crossed and tucked in the same you’d often do. After all, there was no need to fear the vision hunt decree or the Raiden Shogun. Let them come, let them take care of you before Scaramouche did.

You werent cold, not when the cold drops dampened your clothing, slipping down the length of your spine and drenching your face. Despite having lived in a luxury residency for such a long time, this was where you were most comfortable, enduring whatever the weather had for you, taking it with a smile. Because you were waiting…

The Kitsune Saiguu was a distant memory.

You were waiting for Scaramouche, the young boy that often bound into the field in lengthy strides, childlike wonder in his eyes. The one who’d cried when the other kids pushed him away, the one that just wanted to be praised. You’d held him in your arms, and now, even knowing the results, you wouldnt have done differently.

He was just a boy.

Just a boy when he joined the fatui, looking for praise that he was given. He created chaos and bellowed orders with a cruelty that was highly looked upon. Told that he was doing well, so he continued to do so.

He’s just a boy.

You wished you’d held him in your arms, if not only for a tad longer. Shield him away from the wrongness of the world, if only for one last time.

Banishing away your hatred for him was hard.

But you found it under the tree, rain soon dimming down to a clouded cold breeze that swept through the meadow. You’d hated him while stuck in the mansion, but you could now see it from a larger point of view. What he did was wrong of course, but you could remember him so vividly now. His small form giggling, tiny arms around your neck. 

“Play with me!”

Was it your fault?

For not holding him tighter? For trying to rectify his bad doings and teach him what was wrong and right? Maybe if your grip was firmer, if you’d spoken to him about the warmth he’d given you that day when playing cards...

“Lazy ass.”

Burying down that pile of worry and insecurities, you took a deep breath in to relax. The edge of your lip perked up, only slightly. “Still terrible with your social skills arent you?”

Slowly securing a dry space under the three with you, Scaramouche sat down. His features were the same ones you’d grown accustomed to at his mansion. Rich clothes, sharp eyes, and the baby face that refused to go away. His movements were soft as he pulled out a deck of cards. The two of you didnt speak as he distributed them between you both. It was tense… no, it felt too much like the warmth form long ago to be tense. You only wished the situation to be different.

“I love you.”

But you could only offer a bitter smile to his words. “I love my vision,” you replied. “I love the Kitsune Saiguu, and I love my friends.”

His touch was gentle when his fingers came to gently cradle your cheek. Holding your face dearly as he peered into your eyes, his were soft. Different from the cruelty he held within, the hatred that burned and destruction that seeked to explode.

You saw a little boy.

Your hand came to press his hand further against your cheek, till you slid his palm to your lips. He appeared so calm when you pressed the first kiss, lips tracing the lines along his palm with all the care in the world.

But you needed to change your view, see him as the man he now was. As the man he had become.

“I love you,” he repeated, and you let go of his hand. It fell limp by his side, cards all but forgotten. There was a much more pressing matter at hand, because you truly needed to see him as he was.

It was necessary if you planned to kill him.

[blessedlance]

pretty baby.

[r18+]

[wc:] 4k

[cw:] sub!atsumu, softdom!reader, femdom, oral (f. receiving), riding, pegging, mommy kink, puppy kink, minor dacryphilia, collar-play, restraints

! haikyuu manga timeskip spoilers. atsumu is 24. !

a/n: oh my god i haven’t written for leisure in literally 10 years i hope this is bearable LOL. @luvsicksubs​ wrote a lil tidbit about sub!atsumu a while ago and i have not known peace ever since so big thank you to ari for the inspo! pls enjoi :9

Atsumu’s been gone lately. A lot.

 Too much.

 You know it’s not his fault. The Jackals' practices have been brutal lately. So when Atsumu does eventually trudge his way back to your shared apartment every evening, he can only muster up enough energy to shower and collapse into bed. You’ve had to wake him more than once, chiding him to get up and at least dry his hair before bed.

“You can’t afford to get yourself sick by sleeping with wet hair, ‘Tsumu.” You’d whisper, shaking him gently awake. Usually he’d just groan in response and bury himself further against your body heat beneath the comforter--unwilling to give up even a second of precious, blissful sleep. You’d even gone so far as to physically pull his heavy, six foot athlete’s body out of the bed and into the bathroom to dry it for him once or twice.

It’s for his health, you reason. You can afford to pamper him a little--especially when he’s been working so hard. And the way his body slumps while he sits, his features softening--long eyelashes kissing the tops of his cheeks as he dozes off into half-sleep at the feel of your fingers tussling his hair with the gentle heat of the blow dryer… He becomes so soft in those moments, like putty in your hands.

It’s dangerous, because it makes you crave the sight of him like this--fragile and reliant on the comfort of your touch--even more.

You sigh. Reminding yourself again, for seemingly the millionth time since this excessive practicing for the championships started,

‘It’s not his fault.’

He’s been good. So, so good. Trying so hard to make sure you know he loves you and he’s sorry. Texting you to check in whenever he has the chance.

 > how are you today?

> how’s work going??

> what’s for lunch??? ლ(≧ڡ≦ლ)

 Sometimes sending videos of himself and Hinata hashing out new plays (only the ones they’ve mastered, though. You may be intimately familiar with every embarrassing piece of him, but he still wants to try to look cool in front of his girlfriend.)

And it helps. It really does. But you also know the texts are just as much for his own sake as they are for yours. You know how needy Atsumu gets when you two are apart.

 You remember the time he’d called you from his hotel room after an away game in Tokyo. How he whined into the phone at the sound of your voice when you whispered.

“Touch yourself for me.”

The way a soft cry escaped him at your command--your name leaving his lips with a breath.

 You want to feel him like that again. To see him beneath you, squirming and desperate--begging for you to just touch him, just sit on his face, his cock, anything you want just please--

 You abruptly stop your line of thinking--not daring to continue dwelling on this recurring fantasy. Atsumu doesn’t deserve the punishment you crave to dole out on him to relieve this frustration.

 … But he might want it.

 Championships are tomorrow. Just 24 hours stand between you and the feeling of Atsumu Miya’s taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You take a breath, summoning the remnants of your willpower.

You could do this. You would make certain that the wait would be worth it.

For both of you.

 ---

 The Black Jackals win their first match because of course they do. Honestly, sometimes you feel a bit bad for the opposing teams. Their skill, their teamwork, their passion, their absolute willpower to win is stifling. Atsumu texts you that they’re going out for celebratory dinner and drinks. Bokuto’s idea. (Obviously). He promises he’ll be home as soon as he can. They’ve all got tomorrow morning off, and a whole day before the next round of matches. Some indulgence is well-deserved.

You type out your reply.

 > Take your time and enjoy yourself! You’ve earned it. 💕

 Knowing you’ve got at least two hours or more before the boys’ exhaustion ushers them all home, you decide to spend some time... preparing.

 You’re reclined on the couch, watching something you can comfortably give your half-assed attention to while scrolling on your phone. You hear the front door unlocking, the handle turning, and your heart leaps into your throat. The thought of finally, finally having Astumu all to yourself makes you absolutely giddy.

You turn expectantly, and can’t help the way your lips curl upward into a smile.

Atsumu pushes the door open and turns toward you, already smiling when he opens his mouth.

 “Hey.” You murmur.

 “Hey.” He breathes back, and you watch the way his features relax at the sight of you. The way the confident, assiduous Atsumu Miya--a man who wakes up every single day and strives for perfection in everything and every one---melts into something softer.

Something that’s silently begging for you to tear him apart and piece him back together again.

He slips off his shoes, drops his gym bag to the floor, and brings his long, heavy body to lay over yours on the couch.

His face--tinted pink (presumably from the drinks)--buries itself against your neck, lips pressed to your skin.

Your fingers assume their familiar position, nestled in the blonde locks atop his head.

 “Missed you…” You say lowly against his ear.

The small shiver that runs down his spine does not escape your notice.

 “I’ve been here every night!” He protests.

 “You know what I mean.” Your fingers press against his head, tugging on the strands the slightest bit.

 “Mmm…” He affirms softly--your skin keenly feeling the gentle hum against its surface. He knows what you mean. He’s been here, yes, but it’s felt more like the ghost of him--wisping into your bed for a few hours and gone again in the morning.

 “You were really in the zone today.” You comment. “I felt bad for the other team.”

 He huffs out a small laugh. “Don’t. They played fine. We were just better.”

 “Hmm…” You take your unoccupied hand and run a single finger up the curve of his spine.

 He exhales, and you listen for the tremble in his breath you know will be there.

Just a little more.

 “Either way, you were so good.” You can’t contain the coy lilt your voice takes on. You know damn well what you’re doing--using the very words that always make him quiver. He knows what you’re doing, too.

Atsumu thinks he doesn’t mind.

 It’s quiet for a beat. The two of you simply basking in the warmth of your bodies pressed against each other. You stretch beneath him, and… readjust yourself in a way that presses your breasts against him just a little bit more...

And Atsumu finally, finally breaks.

 He inhales sharply, and lets the subsequent exhale freely pass against your neck. A muffled word that sounds a lot like a plea leaves his throat.

 “What was that?” You ask, purposely grazing your lips against his reddening ear.

 “Please…” He begs.

 You consider being mean for a moment. Consider pushing him to his limit in desperation. The way those sharp brown eyes would turn glassy and tearful, his dark brows pulled together, pleading you to hurry up and take him--touch him--let him touch you--fucking anything. However you want, wherever you want. Make him vocalize that burning desire, and only concede when he well and truly begs.

 But that can always be arranged another time.

You’re far too heady with desire yourself to enact such cruelty on him right now. Not after he’s been so good.

 You shift your weight, moving to switch your positions by sitting up and pressing him beneath you. Your straddle his hips, purposely pressing your weight down against his pelvis ever-so-slightly.

 “You’ve been working so hard, ‘Tsumu…” You murmur, lowering the top half of your body to lean over his. Hands sliding under the hem of his shirt, running up along the taut muscles that tremble at your touch. “Such a good boy…”

Atsumu’s bites his lip in an effort to stifle the deep moan that leaves his chest. The way his body almost involuntarily reacts to that phrase every. single. time… It’s just too good to pass up.

You wet your lips.

 “Let me make you feel good.”

 And you press those lips ever-so-softly to the juncture between his jaw and neck. Soft touch turning to a light bite, and then back to a soothing kiss.

 Atsumu is crumbling--his hardening length pressing insistently against you.

 “I got everything ready. We can use whatever you want: rope,” and you press a slow open-mouth kiss to his neck,

“your collar,” then one to his collarbone,

“a toy,” traveling down to his pecs,

“the strap…” ending just beneath his belly button.

You look up at him from beneath your lashes, watching keenly for his expression to shift in interest at any certain one.

 Atsumu doesn’t give an immediate answer, his gaze unable to meet your own. Your hands trail back down his body, grazing a nipple with your fingernail just to see the way he twitches at the sensation. 

 “C’mon baby, how am I supposed to treat my good boy if he doesn’t tell me what he wants?” You purr, bringing your hands to the hem of the worn, oversized t-shirt covering your top half down to the juncture of your thighs. You’d snatched it from his dresser earlier to lounge in. Another carefully plotted detail. You knew just how riled up he got at the sight of you wearing his shirts. Even more so if he lifted it only to find those black and gold lacy panties underneath… Or if there was nothing…

Stretching your body, you pull the shirt up and off of your torso, tossing it aimlessly behind you. Atsumu’s gaze immediately returns to you--spotting that very set’s match: a black bra with intricate gold stitching around the lace adorning your skin. His hands are on you in an instant--palms sliding up your ribs to reach your breasts and gently squeezing around them.

Astumu had never been good with the concept of patience.

 Normally, you’d stop those big, calloused setter hands in their tracks--admonishing him for not asking permission, first. But this was about him. About fulfilling every whim his exhausted mind and body had the energy left to want. You could allow a little insubordination tonight.

 “You even wore my favorite.” He grins, that cheeky, self important tone of his sneaking back out. You smile coyly and tilt your hips downward, pressing your bare core against his still-restrained cock. He inhales sharply--dropping the attitude once more.

 “Part of the reward.” You grin. “Now, what does my good boy want?”

 His eyes drift upwards from their fixation on your breasts, meeting your gaze.

 “I want…” He bites his lip. “Wanna make you feel good.”

 Your eyes widen at the admission, but he’s speaking again before you can inquire.

 “You’re always so patient with me when practice gets like this. I just want to... To give you a reward, too.”

 You’re taken aback for a beat, pleasantly surprised at the acknowledgement. Atsumu still manages to surprise you with how observant he is. One of the more unexpected traits he shares with Osamu. Your eyes soften and you reach up to gently cup his face. He turns his head to kiss your hand and murmurs against your palm.

 "Let me taste you. Please."

 He knows how you get when he’s busy like this. How--despite your authority and confidence in the bedroom--you still long for his affection and crave his touch when he’s gone.

And this… This is the perfect way for him to express his gratitude while still pleasing both of you.

 “Okay.” You breathe, moving to kneel over his face. “Whatever you want,” you gently drop your weight toward his mouth. “my sweet boy.”

 He practically preens at the praise, moaning against your core. Again, Atsumu demonstrates his struggle with patience and savoring the moment. In an instant, he’s gripping your thighs and pulling them closer against the sides of his face. You know you could sit your entire weight atop him and he’d thank you, but tonight calls for something gentler. It’s enough to know you’re the only person who gets to see him like this. The only one who gets to watch the diligent, cocksure Astumu Miya, one of--if not the--best setters in Japan, become so vulnerable and desperate beneath you.

 He flattens his tongue and runs it slowly up from the start of your opening to the top of your clit.

 “Fuck, ‘Tsumu…” You moan, hands rushing to grasp at his hair. He groans, too, at the sensation of your fingers tugging--the hum sending a vibration through your body. You grind your hips, silently urging him on, and his tongue laves at your clit with small kitten licks. The feeling of those tiny, gentle laps against your most sensitive spot, so diligent and soft--it’s like electricity coursing through you, running up into every limb.

 “Mmhmm.” He hums against you. He knows just how you like it. When he services you like this--like the obedient puppy he is. “So wet… Y’taste s’good...” He says, hot breath fanning against you while he catches his breath for a moment.

 You press yourself back against him insistently. “Who said you could take a break? Use your fingers, too.”

 His mouth is back against you immediately, right hand sliding beneath your thigh to reach your opening. Carefully, he presses two fingers against it--testing the give, while his tongue continues to lick and suck at that sensitive nub. Spit has dribbled down from his mouth to where his fingers are pressed, and he slides his digits against the wetness, adding to the natural lubricant. Then, finally, he pushes those long middle and ring fingers up and into you. They slide in easily despite the way you feel yourself clench around the intrusion. He was right--you’re soaked. He finds a comfortable rhythm to compliment his tongue’s lashings easily and your head falls back, a deep moan escaping past your lips.

 “‘Tsumu… ‘Tsumu, fuck just like that--you do it so well for me, baby… Right there--”

 You’re cut off by the feeling of his fingers curling within you--searching, and then pressing against that spot so nicely.

Your thigh muscles twitch against his cheeks--breath fleeing from your lungs at the sudden rush.

 “Yes, ‘Tsumu--fuck yes.”

 You chance a look down at his face. Those long lashes closed, brows knit together in concentration while he pleasures you. Atsumu’s a pretty boy, but you think he’s prettiest like this.

 Fuck, you want more of that desperate expression. Want to edge him over and over until he’s drooling and can’t remember his own fucking name.

 You’re getting close. That climbing ecstasy rising dangerously high within you. You pull yourself off him before you can climb too high, and the release of suction from his mouth makes a small, wet pop.

 “You eat it so well, baby. So, so good for me, pretty boy.” You coo, caressing the sides of his face. His lips are pink and wet and you return your hips to their place atop his length. His lip wobbles with a whimper, back arching against you in search of more.

 “I think you’ve earned your reward now, don’t you?” Your eyelids fall, half-closed seductively while you lean your chest toward his face. You reach behind your back and release the clasp of your bra. His hands tighten themselves into fists, trying to restrain the urge to reach up and touch. The fingers of your left hand splay out against his chest, holding your weight, while the right moves down to pull off his boxer briefs. Then, your wet folds are sliding against his erect, bare, length. Slowly, up and down.

 “Mmm please can I--can I touch--”

 You interrupt him with a small lick against those still-wet lips and chuckle quietly to yourself.

 Oh, so now he’s ready to ask first?

 “You can.” You affirm, reaching down to line him up with your entrance. His breath is coming harder now, those hardened pecs rising and falling beneath you. The anticipation is rapidly unraveling him. Atsumu’s hands are on your back, tugging your chest back down towards him. As they slide forward around your ribcage to grasp your breasts, his gaze flits up to you.

 “Can I--?”

 “Mmhmm.” You nod--knowing what he wants. His mouth closes around your nipple, sucking with that perfect amount of harshness to tighten the coiling pressure in your lower body. His tip rests right against your opening. You can see the precum dribbling out of him--can feel the way he’s pushing himself slightly further up--desperate to get inside. Were this any other time,  you’d reprimand him for such impertinence. Tie his hands above his head and deny him completely. ‘And you were being so good, too, asking permission and everything. You wanna be inside that bad, maybe I should remind you how it feels to be on the receiving end, hmm?’

But, honestly, he’d nearly tipped you over the edge with just his mouth earlier. You were becoming impatient, yourself. 

 Finally, blessedly, you sink yourself down onto his cock, revelling in the way his mouth falls open and his head flings backward against the couch pillow with a cry.

 “Mmm.. ‘s it that good, baby?” You tease.

 “‘S been a while… So tight…” He hisses, almost like it’s too much.

 “Yeah?” You tease. Your hips are gradually picking up speed. Slowly rising up, up, up, as far as you can go before it feels like he might just fall out of you, and then your hip fall again, taking his full length deep inside.

 “‘Tsumu…” You say, rising back up again. “I wanted to pamper you tonight... “ and you slide back down. “Give my cute, sweet boy a reward for all his hard work.”

 Atsumu keens, whimpering beneath you.

 “But I think I wanna be a little selfish, too.” You breathe, leaning in close enough for your breath to fan against his face. “Is that ok baby?”

 A high pitched moan leaves Atsumu’s throat, and you clench around him.

 “Yes…” He sighs between ragged breaths. “Yes... Please, I--”

 “Please, what?” You interrupt him.

 “P-please…” You watch his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. “Please, mommy…”

 “Ohhhhh, that’s my good boy.” You moan, restarting the rise and fall motion of your cunt around him. “Gonna make you feel so good. Just the way you deserve, ‘Tsumu. But you have to promise you won’t cum until I say so, mmk?” You’re holding his face, running your right index finger along the line of his jaw with a feather-light touch.

 And Astumu Miya shudders beneath you, staring up in reverence. The way those big brown watery eyes look at you… He’d look so cute with a collar clasped around his neck right now.

 He nods. “I--I won’t. I promise. Please.”

 Your hand moves up to stroke his hair softly. “Good boy.”

 You restraighten your back in your seated position atop him. Your hands come to rest against his chest for leverage, and you begin riding him in earnest. Atsumu’s eyelids fall closed again, head thrown back while his mouth hangs open in pleasure.

 “Is this what you wanted ‘Tsumu? Just want to feel me fuck myself on you until I’m satisfied?” You tease as you bounce. You slow to almost a halt and grind your hips in a circle, feeling the way his cock buries itself to the hilt. Atsumu’s hands are balled into tight fists against the couch. He’s moaning freely now--little cries escaping him as your cunt eagerly swallows him down over and over and over again.

“So good… You’re so good inside me, ‘Tsumu. Stretching me out so much every time. I know you know how good that feels.”

 “Ahnn--!” He keens at the memory. The way your soft hands had pressed his legs up against his chest. Wetness from the lube dripping down so tantalizingly slow between his ass cheeks. The cock of your strap buried within him. How utterly full he had felt, stretched around it while you softly cooed praises at him, stroking his cock.

 Fuck he wanted to cum like that again.

 More than that, he just wanted to cum. His hands clench and unclench--mouth hanging open while he revels in memory--in the feeling of your tight, wet, heat sliding up and down him just how he likes--how he needs.

 “I told you it was OK to touch, baby.” You reach down to grasp his hands with your own, bringing them to rest on your hips. “Hold onto me while I fuck myself on you.” You whisper.

 Atsumu’s eyes open at that, watching your body bounce on him. HIs left hand hastily comes up to grasp a breast, relishing the feel of the soft, pliable skin in his grasp.

 You gasp lightly at the sensation of his hand grazing your sensitive nipple. “Fuck yeah. So good for me baby--so good. Gonna make you cum in me like this--”

 Atsumu’s head falls back against the cushions again, his expression knotted in pleasure. “You feel so good. So good… Please… Please I’m-- Ahh!-- I’m getting close.”

 “Aww you’re close already? You wanna cum baby?” You shouldn’t tease. You know you’re close, too. That cresting peak getting closer and closer with every push of his cock into your deepest places. Your breath is ragged from the exertion of your body. You reach behind you blindly, refusing to miss an instant of Atsumu’s delicious expression. Eventually, you find the small bullet vibrator you’d stashed beneath the cushions earlier. You bring the toy to your clit and immediately feel it; that powerful wave looming just behind--threatening to take you over the edge. You steele yourself the best you can, inhaling deeply.

 Atsumu slides his eyes open at the sound and unleashes the mostly ungodly, moan. His voice trembles when he speaks.

 “Can I--can I come? Please--please baby let me come. Let me come.” His hands hold fast to your hips, grip growing steadily tighter as the sensations continue to climb. Faster now--exponentially faster. He’s not sure he could stop if he wanted to.

 “Mmmm hearing you beg like that… Good boy. You can cum, baby. I’ll even cum with you for being so good. Go ahead. Cum in this tight pussy.” Your words are rushed, breath catching here and there. “Give it to me.”

 And Atsumu shatters.

 The way his cry lilts up--high-pitched and unabashed. That wave crashing into him so hard and so completely it takes you down under with him. Atsumu’s mind is empty. Nothing but blinding white as he expends everything he has in him in an instant. His name spills past your lips over and over like a mantra while you ride out your high. The two of you so in-sync, it feels as though your cunt convulses in time with his every pulse. Everything feels so, astonishingly good and intimate.

 You’re both breathing heavily, eyes shut tight as that shared bliss slowly dissipates. You let yourself come down to rest on his chest. It’s suddenly very quiet save for your shared breaths. Eventually you rise onto your elbows, face directly over his.

 “I love you…” Atsumu murmurs, eyes slightly flitting about while he studies the intricacies of your face. He memorized them all long ago, but even in this he is never sated. Your eyes soften, chest fluttering at his tone: so tender and soft.

 “I love you, too.” You say, gently caressing his face. “So much.”

 Atsumu can’t help the smile spreading across his face. In one quick motion, his arms are around your neck and tugging your face down toward him. His head tilts, lips melding themselves against yours when they make contact. The kiss is unusually tender, his lips trying to convey what his words cannot: how he is so thankful and lucky to have you. You, who understands how dear his passion, his career, is to him yet helps him remain grounded so that it does not consume him entirely. You, who remains so, so patient when he is away. You, who is always there to help him take care of himself when he is too busy or exhausted. You, who holds him when he finally fractures under the stress of giving his everything all the time--and who helps him put his pieces back together again and get back at it.

 Your head returns to its resting place on his chest. His heartbeat steady beneath you, lulling you to sleep. You both need to get up, clean up, and get into your actual bed, but the bliss of finally feeling Atsumu’s hard body beneath you. Knowing it is completely yours, at least for a short while… You don’t want to relinquish it for even a second.

There’s another beat of silence before you speak.

 “Wanna go to ‘Samu’s and get tuna tomorrow?” You ask.

 Atsumu groans his approval loudly--so much so one would think he hadn’t just finished a massive meal with the Jackals. That signature cheeky grin returns to his face.

 “Oh my god I love you.”